Saturday, April 23, 2011



I didn't think it could be even better than my expectations but it was better!


Better than last season!

Better than free ice cream!

Better than accidentally finding a picture of an old girl girlfriend in her bathing suit on FACEBOOK!

What an amazing setup!

What an amazing cliffhanger!

What a great time to be a DOCTOR WHO fan!

How can I stand the suspense until next week?


And btw here is a preview for next week's episode...


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Friday, April 22, 2011



There have been countless undead hordes down through the years, but Amando de Ossorio’s skeletal, cowl-wearing Knights from his Blind Dead series of films have a special place in the history of the genre. Appearing in four films altogether – Tombs of the Blind Dead, Return of the Evil Dead, Horror of the Zombies and Night of the Seagulls – Ossorio’s walking corpses emerge straight out of a unique place and time in European cinema...


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Ray Garton's CRUCIFAX is available again!

To get out of my depressing apartment, I went for a lot of walks and spent late hours writing in an all-night coffee shop in nearby Studio City called Tiny Naylor’s. Sometimes writing was difficult because the people-watching at Tiny’s, which unfortunately no longer exists, was so distracting. Every Wednesday evening, a group of familiar character actors – the kind of actors whose faces you recognize but whose names you don’t know – came in together. The group always included Mark Lenard, who played Spock’s father Sarek on Star Trek, and Dave Madden, who used to play Reuben Kincaid on The Partridge Family and whose distinctive voice carried throughout the restaurant whenever he was there. They were the only two whose names I immediately knew, but the group included other familiar faces from movies, TV shows and commercials. Tracy Ullman and Jodie Foster came in frequently and most trips to Tiny’s included at least one celebrity sighting. The San Fernando Valley is probably the capital of the porn industry and Tiny’s got a lot of business from people I often didn’t immediately recognize with their clothes on...


click here to visit Ray's blog and learn more about the origin of his novel and more importantly how to get a copy of your own!


(Recommended Reads) BLIND DATE by Icy Sedgwick

So there I am, sitting in the back of the taxi with the cute brunette. She keeps fiddling with the strap of her bag, and I resist the urge to put my hand on her knee. I thought I was dreaming when she came up to me by the pool. Normally I have to buy a chick a few drinks before she’s so bold. Not little Daphne. Of course, she wasn’t talking to me for her. No, she figured her mistress would like me. You know the type - shy divorcee, too scared to approach a guy herself, so gets a companion to do it for her. Well, I’ve been scamming old broads along the coast for four years - what was one more...

click here to read the rest

NOBODY MOVE has a quote from one of my childhood icons! How could I not reblog it?

"Sherman Duffy of the NEW YORK HERALD once said, 'A newspaperman is the loneliest guy on earth. Socially he ranks somewhere between a hooker and a bartender. Spiritually he stands with Galileo, because he knows the world is round.' Not that it matters much, when his editor knows its flat."

-Carl Kolchak (Darren McGavin), The Night Stalker (1972)



I miss you Karl! (and Darren!)


Be sure to visit NOBODY MOVE!


Thursday, April 21, 2011

THE LOCAL HEROES: Good Knight Claire

Good Knight Claire
Al Bruno III
(the Acrobatic Flea was created by Tim Knight)

this story is dedicated to the memory of Elizabeth Sladen
The trip from the United States to England took eight hours. Bill Kane had chosen to travel coach, he kept his bag of carry on luggage in his lap the entire way. The cab ride from Heathrow airport to the city of Muldwych Point took another hour. Once he had checked in to his hotel room he removed the red and blue spandex from the secret lining of his suitcase and slowly put it on. Before he donned his mask and became Captain Hero he added a plain black armband to his costume.
The buildings of Muldwych Point were further apart than he had expected and it took Captain Hero half and hour to find the proper rhythm for leaping from rooftop to rooftop.
The city of Muldwych Point was famous for two things; its cheese and its superheroes. The cheese was a sharp, smoky cheddar variant made exclusively from the milk of fainting goats.
It’s superheroes were no less unusual. There were four of them and they worked together to defend England from dragons, mutants and aliens. They called themselves 'the Muldwych Knights' and there were four of them; the Acrobatic Flea, Girlizard, Dr. Hercules PhD and Grant Mandelbrot.
There were four of them... Captain Hero thought with a frown. He fired a grapple line, made sure it had caught hold of the nearby office building and swung.
He knew he was being followed but he decided to bide his time.
There was a tower in the center of the city. It had been built in the 1960’s to house a computerized telecommunications system. It had been abandoned a few years later after the computerized telecommunications system became sentient and tried to take over the world with giant robots.
Now it was the headquarters of the Muldwych Knights. From the ledge of a nearby apartment building Captain Hero watched the citizens standing vigil. The had surrounded the base of the tower with cards, flowers and other symbols of grief. The spectacle was as heartwarming as it was sad, it hammered home to Captain Hero the utter finality of this situation.
His years of crime-fighting had taught him that superhero deaths were like celebrity weddings- they rarely stuck, but this time felt different, terribly different. This was no hoax or imaginary story, Claire Heath aka Girlizard was dead.
A slender figure dropped onto the ledge beside Captain Hero, bounced a few times and then settled down. He wore a green costume and mask that was complimented by red boots, matching gloves and dark oversized goggles. Even though his mask covered his entire face the little antenna attached to his goggles betrayed his expressions, “If it isn't Captain Mid-life Crisis!”
“How's are you insect?” Captain Hero turned to look at the man beside him, the high-jumping super hero that called himself the Acrobatic Flea.
“Like I want to punch someone.”
“Don’t get any funny ideas,” Captain Hero said. He and the Acrobatic Flea had fought on several occasions, mainly due to misunderstandings or mind control but their last most terrible battle had been over Girlizard. This was the first time they had spoken since.
Of course we both fell for her. He thought. She was sweet and sassy and she could turn into a nine foot dinosaur.
“How are the others?” Captain Hero asked.
The Acrobatic Flea rubbed the back of his neck, “Doc Herc is acting like nothing happened and Grant... well Grant is Grant.”
“And what about you? How are you holding up?”
“I don't...” The Acrobatic Flea sighed, “...I don't know if I...”
The sound of an explosion rocked the night. The two costumed heroes looked to the Muldwych Point bank. “Speaking of holding up,” Captain Hero said.

The super criminal known as Black Pudding waded through the flames and wreckage. He was an obese, pink-skinned nightmare in a dark suit. He extruded tentacles at will, tearing the vault door off its hinges and tossing it casually aside.
The two masked heroes stood near the bank’s ruined entrance. Captain Hero asked as he thumbed through his utility belt, “What is that?”
“Black Pudding,” the Acrobatic Flea said, “he’s a shoggoth.”
“You don’t say?”
Black Pudding grabbed several sacks of money and absorbed them into his bulbous torso. Sirens and alarms began to fill the air. Neither crime-fighter liked to think about the chances the local authorities would have against this villain.
“Last year there was a community theater performance of Macbeth,” the Acrobatic Flea explained, “it was so bad it tore a hole in the fabric of reality and this wanker came through.”
Black Pudding turned to see the two heroes blocking his way, he roared and oozed in all directions. A gleaming black tentacle lashed out at the Acrobatic Flea but the hero was already leaping through the air, his wrist blasters firing.
Since the Acrobatic Flea was going high Captain Hero went low tossing a handful of concussion grenades at Black Pudding’s feet.
The attacks splattered parts of the shoggoth in all directions. In his rage he began tearing the bank down around himself- and the heroes.
Bounding through the flying wreckage the Acrobatic flea pulled the other crime-fighter back out into the street.
“Something tells me-” Captain Hero coughed, “-we’re going to be late for the wake.”
“You know,” the Acrobatic Flea adjusted his wrist blasters again, “I loved her man. Really loved her.”
“I know,” Captain Hero said, “I did too.”
Black Pudding burst out of the wreckage his body swollen and bristling with limbs, tendrils and mouths. He was making all the standard threats but neither of his adversaries paid attention.
“I wonder what she would say,” Captain Hero mused, “if she could see us working together.”
The Acrobatic Flea chuckled, “I think she’d say something like- ‘Kick his ass boys.’
Laughing they charged into battle once more.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

The Elisabeth Sladen tributes continue...

From David Tennant

I just can't believe that Lis is gone. She seemed invincible. The same woman who enchanted my childhood, enchanted my time on Doctor Who and enchanted generations who have watched her and fallen in love with her – just like I did. I feel very honoured to have shared a TARDIS with Sarah Jane Smith, and I feel very lucky to have shared some time with Lis Sladen. She was extraordinary...


From Greg Davies at GEEKS OF DOOM


...Elisabeth Sladen’s death is not just a sad moment for fans. For many of us, she was like a teacher to us (as was the Doctor), helping us cultivate our own moral foundation based on the choices she and the Doctor made in the show. It was more than just a science fiction show for us early fans. It was an experience for us to see that there is so much wonderful stuff out there in the world (and indeed, up into the skies and beyond). ..


And the BBC have announced that there will be a special Sarah Jane Tribute

Elisabeth Sladen created one of Doctor Who's best loved and most enduring characters, Sarah Jane Smith. For over 35 years she brought the feisty, compassionate journalist to life, creating a figure that was adored by audiences of all ages - truly a heroine whose appeal had no boundaries. This 15 minute programme is both a tribute and a celebration of Elisabeth Sladen. It brings together stories from friends and colleagues and draws on a rich archive of material to remind us of Sarah Jane's journey, from companion to the Third Doctor to the central character in CBBC's award-winning The Sarah Jane Adventures...

Tom Baker and Matt Smith remember Elizabeth Sladen

From Tom Baker



Those sweet memories of happy days with Lis Sladen, the lovely, witty, kind and so talented Lis Sladen.  I am consoled by the memories.  I was there, I knew her, she was good to me and I shall always be grateful, and I shall miss her...


From Matt Smith



"What struck me about Lis was her grace. She welcomed me, educated me, and delighted me with her tales and adventures on Doctor Who. And she also seemed to have a quality of youth that not many people retain as they go through life. Her grace and kindness will stay with me because she had such qualities in abundance and shared them freely... I will miss her, as will the world of Doctor Who and all the Doctors that had the good pleasure to work with Lis Sladen and travel the universe with Sarah-Jane." 

A bit of Sarah Jane Smith artwork from Rebecca Whitaker of NO SMOKING IN THE SKULL CAVE

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Elisabeth Sladen 1948-2011


Elisabeth Sladen -- better known as Sarah Jane Smith of Doctor Who and The Sarah Jane Adventures series -- has died today at the age of 63. There are few details concerning her passing, but the BBC is reporting she had had cancer for sometime. Obviously, Doctor Who fans old and young are in mourning for the woman who played the Doctor's most arguably popular companion and certainly one of the series' most popular characters for 38 years...

Here I am, a grown man with tears in his eyes for a woman he never met. It still feels like I've lost an old and dear friend.

Elizabeth Sladen was part of everything that was great about DOCTOR WHO, Sarah Jane Smith was a part of my childhood and thanks to the revived series and THE SARAH JANE ADVENTURES she is one of my daughter's heroes. That couldn't have been possible if not for the magic Elizabeth Sladen brought to the role.



CHAD'S ORACLES chapter eleven


Chad’s Oracles

Chapter Eleven


They carried her back to the Oracles’ room and handcuffed her to the radiator. They let her scream and pull at her restraints. When Sara brought her a sleeping bag and an extra pillow there was an apologetic look in her eyes. Then Annie called her back to their card game and they seemed to almost forget their prisoner was there.

Whenever Thelma shouted at them they ignored her, when she asked a question in a calm voice Bonita gave her a matter of fact answer.

And no matter how many ways Thelma asked the question the answer was always the same, “You’re not going anywhere.”

The sun descended in a slow arc, its light passing through, then past the window. Thelma watched its progress with a kind of morbid fascination. Wasn’t it after sunset when dreadful things were done and bodies were disposed of? She shivered at the thought. The radio stayed on the entire afternoon, always tuned to the top forty station, when the news came on they all paused to hear the details about the ongoing police search for Thelma French.

When the music started again they went back to their games. With nothing better to do then watch them, Thelma observed the strange symbols that covered their homemade playing cards. They looked like the symbols Thelma had seen on the basement walls.

They’re all crazy. Thelma thought, They’re all crazy and I was crazy to come here.

But come here she had, seduced by Chad’s promise of knowing. And she had glimpsed something hadn’t she? Her father passing envelopes and cash to a stranger in a half-empty restaurant in the middle of nowhere like he was some kind of a spy.

What the Hell was that about?

She could believe world wars, dark gods and masked Hierophants but her Dad doing anything surreptitious? He couldn’t even keep her Christmas presents a secret.

When the sun had fully set the girls fired up the lanterns, an hour or so later Chad came in with several boxes of pizza and cans of soda. At first Thelma had thought to refuse to eat but she wasn’t sure what good a hunger strike would do in a situation like this.

So she resigned herself to having a can of Pepsi and a little food; there were three types of pizza to choose from but each choice had anchovies. She picked them off thinking to throw them away but Chad ate all her leavings, joking that she didn’t know what she was missing.

When everyone had eaten Chad chose one of his Oracles, it was Bonita, and lead her from the room. A short while later Thelma started to hear the other girl mumbling nonsense while Chad spoke soothingly and the Squonks burbled their nonsense. She tried to hear what exactly was being said but Annie turned up the radio and drowned them out.

Thelma asked, “What did you do that for?”

Annie shrugged, “They need their privacy.”

“Please let me go.”

“You knew what you were getting in to.”

“Fuck you.”

The other Oracles left her alone after that, an hour Bonita’s voice became a caterwauling and the Squonks carried her in to the room. Sweat had plastered her hair to her head; she had soiled herself and bitten her tongue. The Squonks gently set her down and the other Oracles saw to cleaning her from head to toe. All the while Bonita’s mouth was moving but no words came out, only blood.

Thelma asked, “Is that what you did for me?”

“Sure,” Sara said, “we couldn’t leave you all messy and everything.”

Once Bonita had been tidied up, they dressed her and bundled her into a sleeping bag. Jackie turned her onto her stomach and rubbed her back, trying to relax her. All the while Chad watched from the doorway. The Squonks were nowhere to be seen.

When Chad excused himself Thelma decided it was time to act. “I need…” her voice was a whisper, “…I need to go to the bathroom.” She rattled the handcuffs for emphasis.

Annie shrugged and brought a deep ceramic bowl to her.

Thelma shook her head with disbelief, “Oh come on!”


Even after the lanterns had been extinguished Thelma had been certain she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep; then again she had been certain she would never in her life have to piss in a bowl while handcuffed to a radiator either. She had laid there an hour, listening to Chad’s Oracles drop off to sleep. Alone with her thoughts she had come up with one unworkable or improbable escape plan after another and in the end that had been as good as counting sheep. She drifted off a short while later and slept.

…Flesh and matter lose all meaning; reality peels away and becomes translucent. The Spaces Between loom, they are the eternities that span the silence between each tick of the clock and the yawning void that sprawls in the distance between one molecule and the next…

Thelma sat up suddenly, nearly smacking her head into the radiator, the metal of the handcuff bit into the flesh of her wrist. Shuddering she drew the sleeping bag in tight around herself. The glimmer from a handful of stars sparkled in through the window, leaving her eyes light-starved and confused.

There were sounds nearby, furtive and soft; two shapes tangled together in rhythmic motion.

Oh my God! She gasped; They’re not... Are they?

“Want some gum?”


“Shhhh.” One of the Oracles had made her way over to Thelma, “Want some gum? The chewing sound covers up the noises, if they bother you.”

It was Maureen, the darkness had made her expression impossible to read. Thelma took the stick of gum being offered and slowly chewed it. The cinnamon flavor was strong but she could still taste the carrion sweetness of the Eagoryl. When she spoke again it was in a hushed tone, “Is that one of the Squonks?”

“Yeah, that’s Peter and Annie.”

“Peter?” Thelma raised her voice, the grunting and movements paused long enough for someone to shush them. Thelma whispered again, “They have names?”

“Even dogs have names and we have to call them something. They’re Greg, Peter and Bobby.”

“Oh my God that’s sick... and how can you sleep through this?”

“We don’t sleep, we just don’t pay attention. There’s other things to think about.”

“Oh my God.”

Maureen patted her shoulder, “It’s nothing to be afraid of. I’s barely anything at all really but it means so much to them.”

“Listen to me I don’t want any part of this.”

“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

Thelma whispered, “I’m here because I’m handcuffed to a radiator.”

Maureen shook her head and chuckled, “Those two go at it every Wednesday night. It’s like they’re married or something.”

“Just let me go. I only wanted to know about my Dad.”

“I mean we all have to do it, it’s part of the deal but Annie seems to do it because she feels sorry for Peter. It’s kinda sweet.”

Thelma stared at her in disbelief, “What do you mean we all have to do it?”

“When the time is right. They’re very gentle and you know that afterwards they’re not going to call you a whore behind your back.”

The room seemed to close in around Thelma, cocooning her in pulsing gloom and the heat of too many bodies in an enclosed space. She pulled at the handcuff, at the radiator. Not like this. She told herself, Not here and not like this.

She started screaming, praying that someone would hear her cries.

Click Here To Continue


Rest In Peace to one of my favorite Frankenstein monsters

Just found out via BLACK HOLE REVIEWS that actor Michael Sarrazin passed away. He starred in the miniseries FRANTKENSTEIN THE TRUE STORY. A mini series that had nothing to do with the actual plot of the book but as a kid (and even an adult) I really enjoyed the take on the story. Mr. Sarrazin did a great job as the monster, a performance I still remember.


Rest in Peace Michael Sarrazin


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Monday, April 18, 2011

(Insane News) Ironing On The Expressway... what more can I say?

This article found via


It brings new meaning to going 'flat out' on the motorway. A man wearing a blue dressing gown and slippers made the bizarre decision to do a spot of extreme ironing in the central lane of the M1 this morning....


Click here to read the rest at THE DAILY MAIL

And now a musical interlude courtesy of HEROPRESS!

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Sunday, April 17, 2011

THE LIGHTNING BUG'S LAIR wisely recommends you visit TOURIST TRAP


The movie does start formulaically with a group of teens and their broken down car. One goes up the road to get help (never to return) and the others soon run into Mr. Slausen (Chuck Connors), proprietor of Slausen’s Lost Oasis, a wax museum. The stranded teens (including futureThat 70’s Show MILF Tanya Roberts) hitch a ride with Slausen back to his place. While the group’s lone guy, Jerry (John Van Ness) and Slausen head back to try to fix the car, three girls are left at the Oasis and warned not to venture out due to coyotes. The real danger is Davey. As the girls start to venture out exploring the creepy old house behind Slausen’s tourist trap, they soon encounter the doll faced Davey and his telekinetically powered killer mannequins. The girls as soon picked down to one, the sweet and wholesome Molly (Jocelyn Jones) who discovers the true nature of the slasher’s secret...

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(Recommended Webcomic) THE ABADDON reveals that Hell is for roommates.

Foreplay On The Edge Of Forever part six

Price Breaks and Heartaches

A journal of retail and failed romance

Chapter Six

Foreplay On The Edge Of Forever

part six

Working at Paper Shredder had settled into a routine, as much of a routine as you can have when you're working random part time hours. I stocked the shelves of the book department, performed duties as backup cashier and helped customers at the copy center. Tallulah had changed her schedule working nine to five weekdays so she could go to college at nights. When our paths did cross we didn't do much more than exchange vague pleasantries There was no bitterness or tension- but I did wonder how things were going with her roadie boyfriend. I imagined her running her slender fingers along his muscular stomach, a stomach that, unlike mine, you couldn't lose change in.

On one of those nights I found myself called to the part of the book department set aside for humor and newspaper cartoon collections. There was an irate customer waiting for me.


He looked like a Weeble; he was read faced and snarling. Just another day in retail. I thought to myself.

“How may I help you today?” I asked.

“What the Hell do you people have against Catholics?”

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I don't understand.”

He shoved a book in my hands, it was called Growing Up Catholic, “What do you have to say about this?"

I flipped through the opening pages, “Well according to the reviews, it is 'an irreverent revelation for those who wonder what the Catholic Church is all about'.”

“A likely story,” the irate customer said as he stalked off.

“Excuse me?” Another customer approached, “Excuse me Miss?”

I turned around, “What do you mean Miss?”

“Sorry,” the confused customer said, “I meant Ms.

“I’m a-” I began then gave up, “-how may I help you?”

“I need some sheet protectors.”

“Of course. Let me show you where they are.” I led her to the appropriate section, “Here you are.”

“No, this isn’t what I want,” she scowled, “this is a box of one hundred. I only need ten.”

“I’m sorry. They don’t come in boxes of ten.”

“I don’t want to buy one hundred.” She said, “What are you going to do about it?”

An intriguing question and one I was not prepared for, “Uhmmm... apologize more?”

“I don’t want your apologies. I want to be satisfied.”

“What do you expect me to do? Open a box of one hundred sheet protectors so you can buy ten?”


So I did it. Burt how much were they going to cost? I decided to let that be the cashiers’ problem.

“Hey,” it was the irate customer again, now he had a paperback novel, “Can you explain this to me?”

“OK. They cut down some trees and then send them to a factory where they get turned into paper and then...”

“No! This is a copy of The Thorn Birds! What’s the big idea?”

“I don’t understanding.”

“This is an Anti- Catholic book. It has priests fornicating in it.”

“Really? On what page?”

“How should I know. I don’t read this filth but you shouldn’t have it on your shelves.”

“I am sorry if it upsets you,” I said, “but it is a free country.”

Appealing to his patriotism only made him madder, “A free country doesn’t mean you can just go around printing books about anything you want.”

“Excuse me!” another customer said.

“I’ll be back.” I promised.

The angry customer said, “You haven’t heard the last of me!”

I turned to my newest customer with a kind of relief, he was an older man and somewhat familiar looking, “And how may I help you sir?

“I am haffing to use your bathroom facilities.”

Speaking of relief. “I’m sorry sir, but Paper Shredder doesn’t offer public restrooms.”

“Vat does zat mean?”

For a moment I couldn’t answer. And I had thought Philosophy class was full of difficult questions! Finally I found my voice again, “I guess it means we don’t have a public restroom.”

“How could zuch a thing be? Vat about health laws? In Luxembourg every ztore has a bathroom. Vere do you empty your bladder?”

I found his concern both heartwarming and worrying, “Oh, we have restrooms for employees.”

“Vell I will use that vun.”

“Uh those bathrooms are for employees only. We don’t have restrooms for the public.”

He stepped closer to me, “Tell me zomething, vat vould you do if I relieved myself right here on zee floor in vront of you?”

“Look away.”

Suddenly the irate customer was shouting for me, “Hey you! Get over here!”

I wished Mr. Luxemborg the best of luck with his bowels and headed back to the book department.

“Yes, sir,” I said to the angry customer how may I help you?”

“What is this?” he pointed to a shelf.

“That’s the Joy of Sex.”

“This is disgusting. With this kind of material I’m surprised people aren’t having sex right here on the floor.”

I cast a glance back towards Mr. Luxemborg, “Well you never know what might happen on the floor around these parts.”

“This store is anti-Catholic and anti-family. He said, “And I'm going to write a letter to the local archdiocese. You're going to find yourselves in the middle of a boycott. Your store is trying to undermine the very foundations of our society. Paper Shredder is anti-Christian!”

I looked around at the aisles full of Christmas decorations, wrapping paper and cards, “Are you sure about that? Not everything is a conspiracy.”

“Don't talk back to me you little faggot! I want to talk to your manager about the kind of books you’re ordering.”

“Sir,” I tried not to be knocked over by the waves of stupidity washing over me. “Neither the manager or I have anything to do with what books are ordered, the central office does all the ordering and also I will have you know I have been with a woman. However briefly.”

“Do you expect me to believe that?”

“Believe what? That we don't do the ordering or that a beautiful woman allowed me to plunge the pulsing heat of my desire into the delta of her Venus?”

Now it was his turn to look stunned and confused, “What the Hell are you talking about?”

“Sorry,” I apologized, “I was shelving some romance novels earlier.”

With that said he returned to his original request, “So you're refusing to get me a manager?”

“No of course I'll get you a manager but I want you to know that yelling at him is like yelling at a picture of Colonel Sanders because you don't like your chicken.”


Someday I would learn not to waste my razor sharp wit on the common horde but it was 1987 and blogs hadn't even been thought of yet. He yelled at the manager and threatened to write angry letters to the home office that never arrived. I can only assume some fresh outrage had distracted him on the way to the post office.

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