[Note: I originally wrote this as a post on Facebook, but amused myself so much that all you lucky ducks get to see the depths to which I will sink for a laugh.]
Dorothy realized she wasn’t in Kansas anymore. It was more like “Idaho.”
DO NOT READ THIS IS YOU ARE EASILY OFFENDED.
OR GO AHEAD AND READ IT AND BE OFFENDED, YOU SICK BASTARDS!
Below is a frank (i.e., “nasty”) presentation of what happens when a man and a woman (or MM, FF, LGBTQAI)
love fuck each other very, very much.
Facebook also offers, as part of their “sexy Facebook” line of emojis:
😮 Asked back to his/her place and/or car and/or alley
😚 Necking (See “Days, Happy.”)
😮 Presentation of boobs
😬 Presentation of “moobs”
😜 Cunnilingus with squirting
🤐 Cunnilingus with queefing
😏 Discovery of the penis (in pants)
😨 Discovery of the penis (under skirt)
🤢 Fellatio with farting
[There is no emoji for “male being kicked out of the room/car/alley,” but if there were, it would go here.]
😋 Beginning of intercourse
(🤠 x -1) Reverse cowgirl
🐶 From behind
🐴 In Tijuana
🐑 In Scotland
🐙 In R’lyeh
💩 “”Diggin’ for night soil”
⛔ “Diggin’ for night soil” attempt DENIED
😆 Uh-oh, he’s getting close
😵 So is she
😫 OMG ALMOST THERE
😧 She’s like, “Don’t fuck this up! I NEED this!”
😰 OMG OMG OMG its—I—you—hurry—
💥 SHE GETS THERE!
🕜 .000000025 seconds later HE GETS THERE! 🎺
😴 He’s done.
📺 She wasn’t quite done, but whatever, it’s fine.
You’re welcome, friends!
Sean “Perv-O-Matic” Hoade
Salt Lake Fanx has asked me for a headshot they can use to put me on banners and such. So I had to give them a picture in which there was no interfering background. After about 7 hours of Photoshop 7 (2002, REPRESENT), I got an adequate-ish result!
Yes, the hat has lumps from my monkey-like graphic design skills.
It looks a bit choppy, I know, but watch as I magic your ass off:
Ah, hell. The Salt Lake folks will make it perfect in post, anyway.
Las Vegas is world-renowned for three things:
Notice than none of these are what one would call “cultural” in the sense of “artistically pleasing and not likely to end with herpes, homelessness, or harping from harridans.”
Yes, Caesar’s Palace has a mall with talking giant statues of Zeus or Apollo or somebody like that—it is notoriously hard to make out what the statues are actually saying, so maybe just concentrate on the fire and stuff.
They also have Antiquities LV, with some, y’know, sorta interesting items like, I dunno, maybe Abraham Goddamn Lincoln’s fucking autograph.
Antiquities LV makes you understand why some people become high-priced call girls or high-priced assassins or Nicholas Sparks: the money, OMG the precious throwaway money. The store also right now has for sale a personally signed note from Charles Darwin, a fucking signed handwritten poem by Edgar Allan Poe (at a very reasonable $38,995), and other artifacts of interest really only to weirdly obsessed people with no lives whatsoeverOMG LOOK WHAT I FOUND:
Even if I had the money, I shouldn’t get this. It would immediately become my Mirror of Erised.
NOT A JOKE: THIS POST IS *FULL* OF TRIGGER WORDS. IF YOU HAVE BEEN VICTIMIZED BY RAPISTS, RACISTS, NEO-NAZIS, OR GENERAL INTERNET CRUELTY, PLEASE READ THIS CAUTIOUSLY IF YOU DECIDE TO READ IT AT ALL.
AGAIN, THIS POST IS *NOT* A JOKE.
Okay, so who likes stories involving irony, intellectual dilemmas, and mixed feelings? Check this out:
I got an email this morning which showed a very close and careful reading of my Hugo Navikov book, Space Explosions! Pew! Pew! Pew! The writer obviously liked the book and gave me a playful hard time about there not being any actual explosions in space in the novel. That was great, and I am pleased at my reader’s enthusiasm.
Um … however.
Jesus Christ. Okay, go on.
Earlier this year, I finally got the chance to visit Lubbock, Texas, Buddy Holly’s birthplace as well as his home for most of his short, brilliant life. In the depot district, with various cool little pubs and other shops to enchant Texas Tech students, a main sidewalk is made of bricks with the titles of Buddy’s biggest songs. And there are lots of other heartfelt tributes in town, too, if you know where to look.
Remember that art doesn’t have to be “good” if it’s done with love. That alone can make it beautiful.
This is a big deal because (some say) of the avarice of Buddy’s wife of 173 days when he died, Maria Elena Holly Diaz. Say what you will about the woman who has sued to get paid for anything with her first husband’s likeness on it, she has never flagged in keeping his memory alive. Also, Buddy loved her, so she can’t be all bad. But my point is that it’s hard to get a Buddy Holly anything going in Lubbock or anywhere else with Maria Elena always holding her pocketbook open.
In any case, a great exception is 62 bricks on Buddy Holly Avenue between 18th and 19th streets, each with a song title of Buddy’s solo hits or ones with J.I., Joe B., and Niki (sometimes known as “The Crickets” ☺). They are engraved bricks on a well-trod sidewalk, so the foot traffic and rain and gum have effaced some of them almost to unreadability, but others are as crisp as they must have been when they were set down. Continue reading
Chicks and chickens, Yours Truly will be giving two—count ’em, two seminars TODAY on effective fiction writing today, cornerstone information for anyone who wants to write, is writing, or even has written a novel or novels! Check it, yo:
Green Valley Library on Green Valley & Sunset Road
Saturday, November 19
The Big Picture: Mastering the Three-Act Structure
IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWED BY
Writing Dialogue to Make Your Characters Unforgettable
Free? Oh my, yes. Essential? Even more of yes. Fun? ALL OF THE YES.
Hope to see you there!
Yes, friends, it is now the moment of truth. All 25 of you, after losing sleep last night, chewing your fingernails down to the nub, becoming irritable at family members and even more irritable about the existence of Twilight: the reward hath come.
I’m going to tell you how to be in the very special (not like that) and exclusive (like that) group that will read Cthulhu Attacks! Book 2: The Faith at least 6 months before anyone else. As I mentioned yesterday, it shall be released as a serial, a chapter at a time, to make me get the goddamn thing out of my head and onto the page.
“Yes, yes,” you say, understandably impatient. “Get to how do we read it already.” (See, I knew you were feeling irritable.)
First, allow me to tell you about the life of a full-time, barely known novelist.
“OH, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!”
I go to a good number of Comic Cons during the year, 10 to 12 or so, and these provide most of my writerly income. I have a metric shit-ton of books, so selling these books is easier to make money at than would would, say, selling just two books.