Horror Sleaze Trash: Prose in Poor Taste
Horror Sleaze Trash: Prose in Poor Taste has finally arrived!This anthology includes over seventy pieces of short and flash fiction submitted to Horror, Sleaze and Trash over the years, from inception to this present day. There is no shortage of great talent to be found between these covers (50+ authors!), and it was my distinct privilege to compile it together.
Get the paperback here, entering your discount code (KCNJDZGB) for half off the list price.
And, as with all HST titles, the free ebook is available here.
VIVA LA HST!!!
From the 259,000 word "Blase Eight" by the author on the bottom of this icon. $4.99 on Amazon; free only if you ask real nice.
MUST BE THE DAWNING OF THE NEW AGE- Velvet Underground, ca. 1965
“Mnf. Thank you again, but I think that we’re all comfortable now. It can also mean your angels are reaching out and with awareness you can begin to feel and experience their presence. Be aware in the moment you see these numbers, and you will be able to decipher the hidden meaning behind 11:11 for yourself. Your guides and angels are near! 11:11 is often said to be a doorway between realms. Seeing this number often signifies that your guides and angels are trying to contact you, as it is a sort of calling card for many spiritual beings.”
Patricia said; “Can they get me more Xanax? I’m like ready to freak.”
MUST BE THE DAWNING OF THE NEW AGE- Velvet Underground, ca. 1965
“Mnf. Thank you again, but I think that we’re all comfortable now. It can also mean your angels are reaching out and with awareness you can begin to feel and experience their presence. Be aware in the moment you see these numbers, and you will be able to decipher the hidden meaning behind 11:11 for yourself. Your guides and angels are near! 11:11 is often said to be a doorway between realms. Seeing this number often signifies that your guides and angels are trying to contact you, as it is a sort of calling card for many spiritual beings.”
Patricia said; “Can they get me more Xanax? I’m like ready to freak.”
Arthur wrote; "You've always got such a hard-on for the top reviewers, but in my experience, it's the power-tripping, by-the-book librarians you need to watch out for. I swear, if I ever quit GR myself, it will be because of those persnickety little fuckers. "
Actually, I like and respect the few top reviewers who speak to me. Just like to tease them. Those librarians; yeah; but I guess that's what GR gets for free.
But, I truly have noticed some things which seem odd; and it's some reviewers, but not the top ones. I probably shouldn't have started this.
Actually, I like and respect the few top reviewers who speak to me. Just like to tease them. Those librarians; yeah; but I guess that's what GR gets for free.
But, I truly have noticed some things which seem odd; and it's some reviewers, but not the top ones. I probably shouldn't have started this.
Signing off for now. Really drawing a blank beyond 10 pages for G3. But, I got an idea to do something I once said I never would; a story about a writer. Something like; "My Non Life Not on Goodreads," or something better than that.
It will be making fun of myself, rather than GR and its inner circle.
That's the true intent, and it came to me through misreading something of Vonnegut.
I lie a lot.
It will be making fun of myself, rather than GR and its inner circle.
That's the true intent, and it came to me through misreading something of Vonnegut.
I lie a lot.
SevenD wrote: "I got an idea to do something I once said I never would; a story about a writer. Something like; "My Non Life Not on Goodreads," or something better than that."Idk, sounds awfully meta...
Arthur wrote; "Idk, sounds awfully meta..."
IDK either; but I have to be doing something while I can't think up another dog story. And you know that word is so overused. I mean all fiction and most of non has always been meta. Here's three pages inspired by my misreading of the theme of "God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater." ..................... Take my word, it's a story no one would want to sit through until I get on Charlie Rose.
This entire, weird chain of events had no clearly defined starting point. But I suppose that if you choose to commence yapping that you are stuck in having to pick some arbitrary point to start the yap at. ......... Never mind; I guess I already have. ....... But, not really. That’s got nothing to do with the story. It’s just one of those clever lead-ins a competent writer tries to hook innocent readers with.
In fact whether or not there is a story is in itself a highly debatable subject to anyone paying any attention whatsoever; with the possible exception of that person who keeps leaving those messages folded under the red flag attached to my mail box. Inconclusive “proof” of that allegation is offered in the absence of an actual photo displayed thusly, “enhanced,” and very much more or less;
Mailbox; the kind courtesy of Pexels,com under their CC0 license; modified.
Got the picture?
Excellent. You may have noted that this is a condescension to po-mo; insofar as the genre which came to fruition with DFW and died when he did is lionized by certain out-of-date critics; their anticipated raves not personally measured in Jacksons; but in Washingtons; the father of this great country.
All that out of the way, please allow me to go back a few months ......... or years. I don’t recall and it doesn’t matter all that much anyway.
A Condensed and Transitory Imperfect Recollection of Trite Attitudes Which Trigger Thoughts of Suicide in the Dopes
As soon as I came back in I flipped on my laptop, shuffled around anxiously while the thing took forever to boot up. What seemed like an hour later, I finally navigated to Kindle Direct Publishing. I put in my e-mail address, the password, and clicked “Reports.” At the bottom of the screen, in very small letters, I got the message; “There are no sales to report for this period.”
Being a rational person I concluded that there was some sort of mistake.
Hi, precious and possibly non-existent reader. The name’s Ed; and the first thing I’d like to do is complement you on your good taste.
The second thing I’d like to do is dash off this e-mail to Kindle Direct Publishing, saying that they will not be allowed to steal from me. There is no possibility that in this entire world of five hundred billion English proficient people; if you count the Brits; that not one of them has purchased my book.
Fraud!!
Every single one of the other dog walkers I met while walking Daisy down by the river said that I’d soon be on TV with the likes of Franzen and DeLillo.
IDK either; but I have to be doing something while I can't think up another dog story. And you know that word is so overused. I mean all fiction and most of non has always been meta. Here's three pages inspired by my misreading of the theme of "God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater." ..................... Take my word, it's a story no one would want to sit through until I get on Charlie Rose.
This entire, weird chain of events had no clearly defined starting point. But I suppose that if you choose to commence yapping that you are stuck in having to pick some arbitrary point to start the yap at. ......... Never mind; I guess I already have. ....... But, not really. That’s got nothing to do with the story. It’s just one of those clever lead-ins a competent writer tries to hook innocent readers with.
In fact whether or not there is a story is in itself a highly debatable subject to anyone paying any attention whatsoever; with the possible exception of that person who keeps leaving those messages folded under the red flag attached to my mail box. Inconclusive “proof” of that allegation is offered in the absence of an actual photo displayed thusly, “enhanced,” and very much more or less;
Mailbox; the kind courtesy of Pexels,com under their CC0 license; modified.
Got the picture?
Excellent. You may have noted that this is a condescension to po-mo; insofar as the genre which came to fruition with DFW and died when he did is lionized by certain out-of-date critics; their anticipated raves not personally measured in Jacksons; but in Washingtons; the father of this great country.
All that out of the way, please allow me to go back a few months ......... or years. I don’t recall and it doesn’t matter all that much anyway.
A Condensed and Transitory Imperfect Recollection of Trite Attitudes Which Trigger Thoughts of Suicide in the Dopes
As soon as I came back in I flipped on my laptop, shuffled around anxiously while the thing took forever to boot up. What seemed like an hour later, I finally navigated to Kindle Direct Publishing. I put in my e-mail address, the password, and clicked “Reports.” At the bottom of the screen, in very small letters, I got the message; “There are no sales to report for this period.”
Being a rational person I concluded that there was some sort of mistake.
Hi, precious and possibly non-existent reader. The name’s Ed; and the first thing I’d like to do is complement you on your good taste.
The second thing I’d like to do is dash off this e-mail to Kindle Direct Publishing, saying that they will not be allowed to steal from me. There is no possibility that in this entire world of five hundred billion English proficient people; if you count the Brits; that not one of them has purchased my book.
Fraud!!
Every single one of the other dog walkers I met while walking Daisy down by the river said that I’d soon be on TV with the likes of Franzen and DeLillo.
Good day so far! Without having to extend myself I've been deleted by two insignificant people; a Brit and an Aussie. Yeah, I guess US potential is there too as soon as Hackle gets out of the stall where he is rumored to lunch and get poops on his shoes.
The hope for ecumenisicism is still alive.
The hope for ecumenisicism is still alive.
here's some more of that meta book, whose title escapes me right now. I've got to stop doing this; but I feel sorry for Douglas' creativite deficiency, and figure I might give him an idea he could copy.
Every single one of the other dog walkers I met while walking Daisy down by the river said that I’d soon be on TV with the likes of Franzen and DeLillo. Okay, they didn’t specify that it would be on the same show; so I sort of made a reasonable assumption about that, if you have to get picky.
Hi again, astute reader pal. I just want to be clear that that e-mail I mentioned sending out was in the past, and it has already been sent. But, my hi to you is in the present, for the second time. ............... Don’t ask.
Those mailbox messages are a continuing thing. I remember the first one well. I had just written and self-published my first book; “Deadly Doornails,” a month prior. I was really bummed out over having had no sales. This is a little bit later than what went before, but is conceptually the same as what went on that first day, except for that mailbox.
It was still September, but well on the way to October, when Albuquerque has its biggest event, the Balloon Fiesta. I don’t live in Albuquerque, but that doesn’t really matter as every year that I’ve been here, someone puts a flyer in my mail box around this time to say that they’re having a 7AM breakfast on the day of Mass Ascension, and that I’ve been invited. Some of these bastards can be quite sarcastic. Besides, you always have to bring your own breakfast, and I can see the goddam balloons from my own windows.
So, it was like that; but instead of one of many identical “bring-your-own-breakfast-invites” the paper on the box was handwritten and unsigned. It said that this person appreciated having read “Deadly Doornails” and that they wanted to thank me for having written such a great book.
Well, the first thing I thought was that the brat from two doors down who doesn’t like me was making fun of my ass.
Every single one of the other dog walkers I met while walking Daisy down by the river said that I’d soon be on TV with the likes of Franzen and DeLillo. Okay, they didn’t specify that it would be on the same show; so I sort of made a reasonable assumption about that, if you have to get picky.
Hi again, astute reader pal. I just want to be clear that that e-mail I mentioned sending out was in the past, and it has already been sent. But, my hi to you is in the present, for the second time. ............... Don’t ask.
Those mailbox messages are a continuing thing. I remember the first one well. I had just written and self-published my first book; “Deadly Doornails,” a month prior. I was really bummed out over having had no sales. This is a little bit later than what went before, but is conceptually the same as what went on that first day, except for that mailbox.
It was still September, but well on the way to October, when Albuquerque has its biggest event, the Balloon Fiesta. I don’t live in Albuquerque, but that doesn’t really matter as every year that I’ve been here, someone puts a flyer in my mail box around this time to say that they’re having a 7AM breakfast on the day of Mass Ascension, and that I’ve been invited. Some of these bastards can be quite sarcastic. Besides, you always have to bring your own breakfast, and I can see the goddam balloons from my own windows.
So, it was like that; but instead of one of many identical “bring-your-own-breakfast-invites” the paper on the box was handwritten and unsigned. It said that this person appreciated having read “Deadly Doornails” and that they wanted to thank me for having written such a great book.
Well, the first thing I thought was that the brat from two doors down who doesn’t like me was making fun of my ass.
Did it ever occur to anyone that the most popular TV show in the US, The Jerry Springer Show would be banned from GR as well as any other privately owned "social media" website?
When cyber communications are becoming the increasing norm; do you find that irrelevant?
Might you be saving your complaints for the day when complaining is disallowed?
Do you think that the time to protest increasing Republican Conservatism was when it was approaching mid-life crisis? Apparently.
Do you think that Douglas Hackle has the ugliest mug on GR? My vote is for Leo.
Let me take a wild guess as to which of these questions the "nice" geniuses will find most objectionable.
When cyber communications are becoming the increasing norm; do you find that irrelevant?
Might you be saving your complaints for the day when complaining is disallowed?
Do you think that the time to protest increasing Republican Conservatism was when it was approaching mid-life crisis? Apparently.
Do you think that Douglas Hackle has the ugliest mug on GR? My vote is for Leo.
Let me take a wild guess as to which of these questions the "nice" geniuses will find most objectionable.
Douglas wrote: "Genevieve Zero"
Zap number zero.
Zap number zero.
Douglas wrote; "Here lies Edward Drobiski - one of the most stupid, inconsequential, and forgettable people ever to walk the face of this miserable planet."
Thank you. My youthful goals have finally been achieved.
BTW, that ostensibly po-mo thing of yesterday is abandoned. It's worse than a "Winona" book and has absolutely nowhere to go after five pages. So, Doug; feel free to copy it. I owe you at least that much.
Winona 21, Genevieve 0. That was the crappiest football game of all time.
Got some ideas for Genevieve 3 and 4. If the series doesn't make a GR splash, I may stop watching the Bizarro circle jerk, get a free dramamine, and pay the mortgage anyway.
Hey Doug. No bullshit on this one. If you are a casual baseball fan, but not a fanatic, that baseball book would probably interest you. After its 250 pages or so, you'll be able to talk with the big boys; maybe even outdo them.
Thank you. My youthful goals have finally been achieved.
BTW, that ostensibly po-mo thing of yesterday is abandoned. It's worse than a "Winona" book and has absolutely nowhere to go after five pages. So, Doug; feel free to copy it. I owe you at least that much.
Winona 21, Genevieve 0. That was the crappiest football game of all time.
Got some ideas for Genevieve 3 and 4. If the series doesn't make a GR splash, I may stop watching the Bizarro circle jerk, get a free dramamine, and pay the mortgage anyway.
Hey Doug. No bullshit on this one. If you are a casual baseball fan, but not a fanatic, that baseball book would probably interest you. After its 250 pages or so, you'll be able to talk with the big boys; maybe even outdo them.
Hey, what happened to my post? I musta got CENSORED.
Douglas wrote: "Hey, what happened to my post? I musta got CENSORED."
Gotta be those fuckin' vicious GR librarians or that Graham ghost. I hope you can get it back as I liked it and was encouraged when I saw that you could actually string three sentences together.
Oh, my mistake. It was fucking Graham.
Gotta be those fuckin' vicious GR librarians or that Graham ghost. I hope you can get it back as I liked it and was encouraged when I saw that you could actually string three sentences together.
Oh, my mistake. It was fucking Graham.
Guess you missed it the first time through. Got the words on this one for the deprived Millennial set.
"It's getting hard to be someone, but it all works out. It doesn't matter much to me."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tdbTO...
"It's getting hard to be someone, but it all works out. It doesn't matter much to me."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tdbTO...
BTW, since AG kept asking a while back. That is truly a good description of my attitude. You're just not supposed to say so and everybody thinks you're full of shit if you do. So, pragmatically, I say stuff indicating a lust for success, possessions, and the high priced spread precisely because I find that character hysterically funny, especially in that 99% of the world is precisely that way, but can't openly relate to it, not knowing that it is obvious, despite love for the mirror. Must have gotten a castoff from the "fun" house.
BTW2; don't worry about making grave and death jokes about me. It's kind of funny in that it is so unacceptable to the crowd. I don't care. "No one here gets out alive."
One more elaboration. If my books became big deals and I got a lot of money for them, fine. Unless my wife puts a firecracker up my ass I'm not going on any talk shows. Fuck that. And if they never become a big deal, fuck you.
I'm in too good of a mood to write any crappy shit; so back to Genevieve in a few.
BTW2; don't worry about making grave and death jokes about me. It's kind of funny in that it is so unacceptable to the crowd. I don't care. "No one here gets out alive."
One more elaboration. If my books became big deals and I got a lot of money for them, fine. Unless my wife puts a firecracker up my ass I'm not going on any talk shows. Fuck that. And if they never become a big deal, fuck you.
I'm in too good of a mood to write any crappy shit; so back to Genevieve in a few.
On that "troll"stuff. The troll is just another personally amusing take on the general population. You either get the "help-poor-little-me's-I'm-so-nice" or the ones who put in the effort not to be begging for anyone's largesse. The troll is on both sides, reflecting mankind's insatiable need to find fault with the other. The art of conversation commenced with the first complaint. In a po-mo way it's funny to watch the reactions to the troll; "That is horrid. .............. Let me see more. That's what I'd like to say too. That is horrid."
Fuck you, castration victim.
Speaking of fuck yous; fuck JA and all her pretensions to art; fuck Douglas and all his politically correct horseshit; and fuck Arthur for providing the forum to expose such things.
God is thinking; "Mmm, mmm, mmm. Mother fucka has his moments, but I best keep an eye on that boy."
P.S. Oh yeah. Would somebody please fuck India before she goes ballistic.
Fuck you, castration victim.
Speaking of fuck yous; fuck JA and all her pretensions to art; fuck Douglas and all his politically correct horseshit; and fuck Arthur for providing the forum to expose such things.
God is thinking; "Mmm, mmm, mmm. Mother fucka has his moments, but I best keep an eye on that boy."
P.S. Oh yeah. Would somebody please fuck India before she goes ballistic.
"Pore Ed is daid
A candull lites his haid
All gather 'round his cawfin now and cry
He had a heart of gold
And he wasn't very old—
Oh why did such a feller have to die?
Pore Ed is daid
He's lookin' oh so peaceful and serene—
He's all laid out to rest
With his hands acrost his chest
His fingernails have never been so clean!
Then the preacher'd get up and he'd say:
"Folks, we are gathered here to moan and groan over our brother Ed, who hung hisself up by a rope in his smokehouse."
Then there'd be weepin' and wailin' from some of those women. Then he'd say:
"Jud was the most misunderstood man in this here territory. People used to think he was a mean ugly feller and they called him a dirty skunk and an ornery pig stealer
But the folks 'at really knowed him
Knowed that beneath them two dirty shirts he always wore
There beat a heart as big as all outdoors"
As big as all outdoors
Ed loved his feller man
He loved his feller man
He loved the birds of the air and the beasts of the field. He loved the mice and the vermin in the barns, and he treated the rats like equals, which was right. And he loved little children. He loved everybody and everything in the whole world! Only he never let on, so nobody ever knowed it!
Pore Ed is daid
Pore Ed is daid"
NOT. They say the stupidest shit after you daid. They get paid to do that.
A candull lites his haid
All gather 'round his cawfin now and cry
He had a heart of gold
And he wasn't very old—
Oh why did such a feller have to die?
Pore Ed is daid
He's lookin' oh so peaceful and serene—
He's all laid out to rest
With his hands acrost his chest
His fingernails have never been so clean!
Then the preacher'd get up and he'd say:
"Folks, we are gathered here to moan and groan over our brother Ed, who hung hisself up by a rope in his smokehouse."
Then there'd be weepin' and wailin' from some of those women. Then he'd say:
"Jud was the most misunderstood man in this here territory. People used to think he was a mean ugly feller and they called him a dirty skunk and an ornery pig stealer
But the folks 'at really knowed him
Knowed that beneath them two dirty shirts he always wore
There beat a heart as big as all outdoors"
As big as all outdoors
Ed loved his feller man
He loved his feller man
He loved the birds of the air and the beasts of the field. He loved the mice and the vermin in the barns, and he treated the rats like equals, which was right. And he loved little children. He loved everybody and everything in the whole world! Only he never let on, so nobody ever knowed it!
Pore Ed is daid
Pore Ed is daid"
NOT. They say the stupidest shit after you daid. They get paid to do that.
Douglas wrote: "Hey, what happened to my post? I musta got CENSORED."Never!
deleted user wrote: "Would somebody please fuck India before she goes ballistic."LOL
Arthur wrote: "deleted user wrote: "Would somebody please fuck India before she goes ballistic."LOL"
Yea, come on.
Previously the issue of not having anyone attend my funeral came up. Okay, try to understand this. I'll be like DEAD, D-E-A-D, Mutha fuggin DEAD. Got that? So, being that I'll be mutha fuggin DEAD; how many purple raspberries you think I'm gonna blow over how many assholes are gawkin' at me?
If you want large attendance at your funeral, there are two ways to ensure it. Make everyone think you got lots of money and don't leave a will. Mufuggas will be all over the place fighting over that shit till after the worms wipe you out.
Don't let em kid you. Dickens wrote that crap to help the smart people grab that cash.
"I'm all right Jack. Keep your hands off of my stack."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cpbbu...
If you want large attendance at your funeral, there are two ways to ensure it. Make everyone think you got lots of money and don't leave a will. Mufuggas will be all over the place fighting over that shit till after the worms wipe you out.
Don't let em kid you. Dickens wrote that crap to help the smart people grab that cash.
"I'm all right Jack. Keep your hands off of my stack."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cpbbu...
Doogie, Doogie, Doogie. Here comes Doogie Doogie the dancing machine. Go get em Doogie.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ymo7A...
Hey doodoo; no shit; that hood does wonders for your head.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ymo7A...
Hey doodoo; no shit; that hood does wonders for your head.
Well, Arthur, glad to see that HST quarterlies are doing so well. G2 has had one free taker, bless him or her. Maybe things will pick up a bit when the kids get home from school. It still amazes me how people ignore quality when offered the low life stuff.
It does me absolutely no good whatsoever to try to advertise my stuff to the perverts on this thread.
It does me absolutely no good whatsoever to try to advertise my stuff to the perverts on this thread.
NighUpon wrote: "It does me absolutely no good whatsoever to try to advertise my stuff to the perverts on this thread."That may be true, but at least it gives you something to do during the day besides greeting shoppers at Walmart.
Arthur wrote: "...but at least it gives you something to do during the day besides greeting shoppers at Walmart. "heh. burn.
Arthur wrote; "That may be true, but at least it gives you something to do during the day besides greeting shoppers at Walmart."
Having given up after a whole half hour of trying to find some retort, instead allow me to warn Goodreaders of the latest nefarious trend in the book market.
It's in the back cover description of the books. All of a sudden every book purports to portray a character or situation "which changes everyone's life forever." The short reply is "my ass."
The longer one starts with a question. Excluding births and deaths (and that's only said to avoid criticism from the touchy-feely set) what event do you know of which has changed everyone's life forever? Right; not a goddam one. But these charlatan authors would have you believe that they're telling some sort of portentous story about precisely that.
I got some bullshit for the bullshit artists. There ain't one mufuggin book which has changed anyone's life other than that of the self-important author's bank account. Okay? And ain't no one going to bring on anything new with that old bullpiss pitch.
So; all I want to say is buyer beware of these overstated claims of some garbage which is said to change everyone's life more than their fuggin clock.
My ass on the whole fuggin booshite.
And Arthur; I'll get you yet.
Having given up after a whole half hour of trying to find some retort, instead allow me to warn Goodreaders of the latest nefarious trend in the book market.
It's in the back cover description of the books. All of a sudden every book purports to portray a character or situation "which changes everyone's life forever." The short reply is "my ass."
The longer one starts with a question. Excluding births and deaths (and that's only said to avoid criticism from the touchy-feely set) what event do you know of which has changed everyone's life forever? Right; not a goddam one. But these charlatan authors would have you believe that they're telling some sort of portentous story about precisely that.
I got some bullshit for the bullshit artists. There ain't one mufuggin book which has changed anyone's life other than that of the self-important author's bank account. Okay? And ain't no one going to bring on anything new with that old bullpiss pitch.
So; all I want to say is buyer beware of these overstated claims of some garbage which is said to change everyone's life more than their fuggin clock.
My ass on the whole fuggin booshite.
And Arthur; I'll get you yet.
Ah, let's attempt to escape the banal and its proponents. Wanna do this so I'll be gone a few hours doing G3. It's winter!! So here's the opening I usually re-write 8-10 times. And don't forget that for a limited time only "Genevieve and the Two Black Scotties" is free on Amazon. .............................. I'll get a link for the lazy and addled. Right back
.https://www.amazon.com/GENEVIEVE-BLAC...
The holidays were over and that’s exactly how it felt to Genevieve. Christmas Eve and New Year’s Day had come with their usual celebrations, and gone leaving their usual despair. One could not be too critical of the holidays themselves, as it was not their choice that they had to come to an end. That was more attributable to the makers of calendars or that relative Einstein guy with his silly notions about those space-gravity-time limitations.
And it wasn’t as if the mid-winter snow was all that much of an impediment to pooch play on Pacific Lane. The pooches all had four legs, and unlike the showoff bi-peds on the net, if one slid, there were three others available to eliminate any possibility of a fall. It was more that the overall feel was one of that “something-has-just-ended” and the “new” replacement left a bit to be desired. The snow was kind of fun, and since it was of the moist variety, conducive to the construction of many Frosty-the-Snowmans. But, that intermittent North wind could be brutal.
Mrs. & Mr. Snowman; property of the author.
It was that since the first, the sky which provided it seemed intent on casting a continual dull pallor on that which it had whitened.
Changed it already; just details though.
.https://www.amazon.com/GENEVIEVE-BLAC...
The holidays were over and that’s exactly how it felt to Genevieve. Christmas Eve and New Year’s Day had come with their usual celebrations, and gone leaving their usual despair. One could not be too critical of the holidays themselves, as it was not their choice that they had to come to an end. That was more attributable to the makers of calendars or that relative Einstein guy with his silly notions about those space-gravity-time limitations.
And it wasn’t as if the mid-winter snow was all that much of an impediment to pooch play on Pacific Lane. The pooches all had four legs, and unlike the showoff bi-peds on the net, if one slid, there were three others available to eliminate any possibility of a fall. It was more that the overall feel was one of that “something-has-just-ended” and the “new” replacement left a bit to be desired. The snow was kind of fun, and since it was of the moist variety, conducive to the construction of many Frosty-the-Snowmans. But, that intermittent North wind could be brutal.
Mrs. & Mr. Snowman; property of the author.
It was that since the first, the sky which provided it seemed intent on casting a continual dull pallor on that which it had whitened.
Changed it already; just details though.
Hooray; free "sales" of G2 have doubled to two.
"It's not a religion; it's just a technique.
It's just a way to make you speak."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHFWX...
I'm beginning to suspect that Douglas is a bit miffed with me.
"It's not a religion; it's just a technique.
It's just a way to make you speak."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHFWX...
I'm beginning to suspect that Douglas is a bit miffed with me.
If you're reading this thread it is court accepted proof that you are a retard who likes to sniff farts.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BDW0r...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BDW0r...
NighUpon wrote: "If you're reading this thread it is court accepted proof that you are a retard who likes to sniff farts."And what does that say about you?
Arthur wrote; "And what does that say about you? "
Ask the fucking court, retard.
Ask the fucking court, retard.
AndreTheGiant lasted a whole two seconds. What a shithead.
Douglas wrote: "AndreTheGiant lasted a whole two seconds. What a shithead."
Wow! The demonstration of another fantastic grasp of the obvious; impressive for a Bizarro retard or other dopes reading this "poetry" thread.
Wow! The demonstration of another fantastic grasp of the obvious; impressive for a Bizarro retard or other dopes reading this "poetry" thread.
Douglas wrote; "AndreTheGiant lasted a whole two seconds. What a shithead. "
Go suck wet trouser farts.
Go suck wet trouser farts.
The other day I chanced across a book by Helene Stapinski I thought absolutely great. I was truly LOL. It was about her early childhood in Jersey City. I lived in neighboring Bayonne which isn't very different, so I figured that I'd try the same thing. Anyway, it's not going well. Either she is a much better writer or has more memories than I do. Thing'sfucked up already. But, here's the beginning. If you think it sucks be grateful I didn't attach more as it gets much worse.
One of my earliest memories is of the time when my Uncle Chesty exploded our television. He was in the back of it when I entered the room. I heard a faint noise like when a lightbulb blows and then saw a twisting urn of black smoke playing on top of the TV. As it dissipated, Uncle Chesty rose with a blackened face; his white bulged eyes saying something like; “What happened?” Being a five year old who had already read some books, I sensed that this was one of those tragic times not intended for conversation. So, I left the room, lay on the bed, put my face tightly in the pillow to muffle the sound, and proceeded to laugh my five-year-old ass off.
Our first exploded television; property of the author.
You might think that ill-mannered or oblivious to the joys of television. You may or may not be right on both counts, but what was going through my young mind after it seemed clear that the whole place wasn’t going to go the way of Hiroshima was that I looked forward to the family dynamic I expected to play out next.
You see that Chesty was my Mom’s only brother; and Dad did not like him one little bit. Neither did Mom, but for other reasons. Dad didn’t like that Chesty was a bachelor who told everyone that he was good at everything. At the time, 1954, it was that he knew how to fix TV sets, the income from which he used to supplement that of his job at the dirty, dumb, and dangerous General Dynamics Paint Manufacturing plant down on the slippery bricks of Third Street.
Chesty was constantly telling the old jokes people just stare at or politely excuse themselves from. I guess he wasn’t a bad guy at all, if you could be Christian and somehow find somewhere within yourself the degree of socially acceptable tolerance which allows one to deal with relentless blabbing.
Mom and Dad truly hated him; Mom, because he was the favored boy in her otherwise all girl family
One of my earliest memories is of the time when my Uncle Chesty exploded our television. He was in the back of it when I entered the room. I heard a faint noise like when a lightbulb blows and then saw a twisting urn of black smoke playing on top of the TV. As it dissipated, Uncle Chesty rose with a blackened face; his white bulged eyes saying something like; “What happened?” Being a five year old who had already read some books, I sensed that this was one of those tragic times not intended for conversation. So, I left the room, lay on the bed, put my face tightly in the pillow to muffle the sound, and proceeded to laugh my five-year-old ass off.
Our first exploded television; property of the author.
You might think that ill-mannered or oblivious to the joys of television. You may or may not be right on both counts, but what was going through my young mind after it seemed clear that the whole place wasn’t going to go the way of Hiroshima was that I looked forward to the family dynamic I expected to play out next.
You see that Chesty was my Mom’s only brother; and Dad did not like him one little bit. Neither did Mom, but for other reasons. Dad didn’t like that Chesty was a bachelor who told everyone that he was good at everything. At the time, 1954, it was that he knew how to fix TV sets, the income from which he used to supplement that of his job at the dirty, dumb, and dangerous General Dynamics Paint Manufacturing plant down on the slippery bricks of Third Street.
Chesty was constantly telling the old jokes people just stare at or politely excuse themselves from. I guess he wasn’t a bad guy at all, if you could be Christian and somehow find somewhere within yourself the degree of socially acceptable tolerance which allows one to deal with relentless blabbing.
Mom and Dad truly hated him; Mom, because he was the favored boy in her otherwise all girl family
Okay, here's a bit more from this book. I decided that I just can't do Helene's style. It's just not me. She gets right to the point all the time. Nazi. Immerse yourself in the waves. I understand that Hackle is the only one who reads this stuff; so I took out the big words.
Before we go any further, it is best for the reader to know what a Bayonne is. It is a city in Hudson County, NJ situated on a peninsula located between Newark Bay, Kill Van Kull, and New York Bay. Each of these bodies of water are gelatinous near Bayonne and are considered undrinkable and of value only to swimmers who appreciate being slimed and not being disturbed by the nonexistent fish.
That’s what the residents say. Public officials find the water potable, swimmable, and are negotiating the establishment of a yacht club adjacent to baseball diamond #2 in City Park. The writer can testify to the virtues. Having been weaned on Bayonne water, he is now apparently immune to those impurities and diseases which suburbanites find in their well water. Not having to purchase the Mafia bottled variety, 55% of which is gathered on Bayonne’s shores, has saved him approximately $850 per annum.
Before we go any further, it is best for the reader to know what a Bayonne is. It is a city in Hudson County, NJ situated on a peninsula located between Newark Bay, Kill Van Kull, and New York Bay. Each of these bodies of water are gelatinous near Bayonne and are considered undrinkable and of value only to swimmers who appreciate being slimed and not being disturbed by the nonexistent fish.
That’s what the residents say. Public officials find the water potable, swimmable, and are negotiating the establishment of a yacht club adjacent to baseball diamond #2 in City Park. The writer can testify to the virtues. Having been weaned on Bayonne water, he is now apparently immune to those impurities and diseases which suburbanites find in their well water. Not having to purchase the Mafia bottled variety, 55% of which is gathered on Bayonne’s shores, has saved him approximately $850 per annum.
Just read GR reviews of "Five Finger Discount." Was surprised and also not surprised how the reviewers disliked it. The book has an average overall rating of 3.56, but the reviews are all 2 and 3 stars, one having one sentence about the writing and the story.
This is clearly indicative of classism, racism, and every other type of ism this site's stupid members bandy about if you do something horrendous, like say Obama was a zero.
Fucking book is fucking hilarious and fucking true.
I was glad to see that Helene is crying all the way to the bank, as without consulting GR reviewers they made a TV movie of it.
I'm not 100% sure, but I think I might know where the five fingers in the title come from. It's when you put your thumb at the end of your nose and wave the other four at an asshole.
This is clearly indicative of classism, racism, and every other type of ism this site's stupid members bandy about if you do something horrendous, like say Obama was a zero.
Fucking book is fucking hilarious and fucking true.
I was glad to see that Helene is crying all the way to the bank, as without consulting GR reviewers they made a TV movie of it.
I'm not 100% sure, but I think I might know where the five fingers in the title come from. It's when you put your thumb at the end of your nose and wave the other four at an asshole.
Mike590 wrote: "This is clearly indicative of classism, racism, and every other type of ism this site's stupid members bandy about if you do something horrendous, like say Obama was a zero.Ease off with the trollism, pal.
I plead ignorance of the GR law this time. Jeez. These social communications dictums are something else.
But OK. No more stuff which might offend anyone no matter how incorrect their interpretation. So .........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
Being one, can I say polack?
But OK. No more stuff which might offend anyone no matter how incorrect their interpretation. So .........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
Being one, can I say polack?
BTW; I'm feeling much better about that book. As always what was posted of it here was pre-editing. Some was done more to do. But I'm enthused now. When I read how the GR reviewers (only the inconsequential ones) didn't like the subject matter, I can't wait to give them more. It's tentatively titled; "Early Television and Prevalent Non-Reception; a Memoir Subject to Severe Interference."
What most initially worried me was that I discovered on the eighth page that there was not enough in my boring little life to carry a book; not even a short story; maybe a chapter with a stretch. So, I started to put in stuff about other people and the town, and discovered that's what Helene did too.
It's not going to be chronological and I hope no idiot says that it's po-mo as a result. It's almost like a series of short stories. There will be stuff like the time I noticed that the last three mayors were owners of funeral homes and asked Dad about it. He told me that it was this way because they know where the bodies are buried.
Pleaser don't split your sides laughing.
What most initially worried me was that I discovered on the eighth page that there was not enough in my boring little life to carry a book; not even a short story; maybe a chapter with a stretch. So, I started to put in stuff about other people and the town, and discovered that's what Helene did too.
It's not going to be chronological and I hope no idiot says that it's po-mo as a result. It's almost like a series of short stories. There will be stuff like the time I noticed that the last three mayors were owners of funeral homes and asked Dad about it. He told me that it was this way because they know where the bodies are buried.
Pleaser don't split your sides laughing.
Eventually I'll post the first two chapters here when reasonably near the end of editing. It's no more than what can be freely seen on Amazon's preview feature anyway.
You know, as I get more and more into this the more and more I think that the "proper" aversion to crass polocks is so petit bourgeois that Pollock would have pissed on it.
You know, as I get more and more into this the more and more I think that the "proper" aversion to crass polocks is so petit bourgeois that Pollock would have pissed on it.
Mike590 wrote: "Being one, can I say polack?"Seems pretty benign as far as racial slurs go. Most people probably don't even know what it means without googling it these days, and besides, does anyone under 80 even use the term anymore? Might as well call someone a kraut...
Referring to polack Arthur wrote; "Seems pretty benign as far as racial slurs go. Most people probably don't even know what it means without googling it these days, and besides, does anyone under 80 even use the term anymore? Might as well call someone a kraut... "
Wow! Totally confused. It's nice to be able to refer to myself as I wish. Yet it is a complete mind boggler to think that no one under 80 will know what it means. ................ And kraut is in my vocabilary too. See, some of those old words like "N" and "F" are immortal, but polacks and krauts are so temporal.
I now understand why writing and the world belong to the young. Now all we have to do is locate one competent kiddie.
Wow! Totally confused. It's nice to be able to refer to myself as I wish. Yet it is a complete mind boggler to think that no one under 80 will know what it means. ................ And kraut is in my vocabilary too. See, some of those old words like "N" and "F" are immortal, but polacks and krauts are so temporal.
I now understand why writing and the world belong to the young. Now all we have to do is locate one competent kiddie.
You've always got such a hard-on for the top reviewers, but in my experience, it's the power-tripping, by-the-book librarians you need to watch out for. I swear, if I ever quit GR myself, it will be because of those persnickety little fuckers.