Saturday, April 21, 2012

(Recommended Reads) 'I Taught Her Well' by Anthony Venutolo

Even though she pointed that gun at me, I wasn't scared.

You see, it wasn't the first time and truth be told, I wasn't sure if this little chickadee had what chickadees didn't to pull the trigger. In fact, I couldn't help think how it made her sexier. I tried not to smirk. She looked cute.

I slowly walked over to the bar cart and poured myself a copper delight. I raised an empty glass in her direction, asking if she wanted one herself. She shook her head. That was the extent of our communication.

At this point, the smirk arrived. "You could still have some hooch and point that gun, ya know..."


click here to read the rest

Since this song has been stuck in my head all damn day... SING IT REDNEX!

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What if true love was just a nightmare away? What if there were things worse than gods and monsters? What if Necronomicon had a tech support line?

These are just some of the questions raised by my anthology of weird tales In This Twilight!

This collection of 13 stories transports you to a world where both dreams and monsters lurk in the shadows, where love and forgotten rituals fight for control of the human heart, and where the madness of eternity can be glimpsed in a single segmented eye...

Friday, April 20, 2012

Happy Birthday George Takei!

Here are two of my favorite moments from him...



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TELEPORT CITY remembers Theda Bara the original vamp...

Louise Brooks is our girl, but in our darker moods, we here at Teleport City want nothing more than to skulk down into some opulently decorated but ominously spooky antechamber to engage in some manner of esoteric Thelemic ritual with Hollywood’s first vamp. Theda Bara had an elaborate, if untrue, mysterious background that added to her public mystique. If any screen siren of the Silent era was going to take us in and destroy us, you’d be hard pressed to find a better way to go that being devoured by the woman with “the face of a vampire but the heart of a feminist.”...





For more visit TELEPORT CITY

(Recommended Reads) 'Blood Brothers' by TheGreatDicktator


My name is James Jacob Alty.

At the time of writing I am 47 years of age. I believe this makes me the third oldest man on the face of the planet – though I hope this to be untrue.

I was two days shy of seventeen when the plague hit. By the time I was eighteen the world as we knew it had ceased to exist.

The plague, as I’m sure you know, turned out not to be a plague at all, but a military funded bioweapon. A terrorist group bombed one of the old country’s classified military bases and the bioweapon leaked. I don’t think they knew what they were doing. I hope they didn’t....


click here to read the rest at reddit's LIBRARY OF SHADOWS

(Recommended Reads) 'A Colder War' by Charles Stross


Roger Jourgensen tilts back in his chair, reading.

He's a fair-haired man, in his mid-thirties: hair razor-cropped, skin pallid from too much time spent under artificial lights. Spectacles, short-sleeved white shirt and tie, photographic ID badge on a chain round his neck. He works in an air-conditioned office with no windows.

The file he is reading frightens him.

Once, when Roger was a young boy, his father took him to an open day at Nellis AFB, out in the California desert. Sunlight glared brilliantly from the polished silverplate flanks of the big bombers, sitting in their concrete-lined dispersal bays behind barriers and blinking radiation monitors. The brightly coloured streamers flying from their pitot tubes lent them a strange, almost festive appearance. But they were sleeping nightmares: once awakened, nobody -- except the flight crew -- could come within a mile of the nuclear-powered bombers and live.

Looking at the gleaming, bulging pods slung under their wingtip pylons, Roger had a premature inkling of the fires that waited within, a frigid terror that echoed the siren wail of the air raid warnings. He'd sucked nervously on his ice cream and gripped his father's hand tightly while the band ripped through a cheerful Sousa march, and only forgot his fear when a flock of Thunderchiefs sliced by overhead and rattled the car windows for miles around.

He has the same feeling now, as an adult reading this intelligence assessment, that he had as a child, watching the nuclear powered bombers sleeping in their concrete beds.

There's a blurry photograph of a concrete box inside the file, snapped from above by a high-flying U-2 during the autumn of '61. Three coffin-shaped lakes, bulking dark and gloomy beneath the arctic sun; a canal heading west, deep in the Soviet heartland, surrounded by warning trefoils and armed guards. Deep waters saturated with calcium salts, concrete coffer-dams lined with gold and lead. A sleeping giant pointed at NATO, more terrifying than any nuclear weapon.

Project Koschei...


click here to read the rest

(Recommended Reads) 'I am the Key' by Mike Davis

I don’t expect you to believe this story.  I don’t want to believe this story.  I wish that I didn’t.

All of this  happened earlier tonight — just another night at the bar.

Most of my co-workers stop in for a drink or two every evening, but not me.  I’m always happy to go right home to my family… except for Fridays.  That’s my night out, and I always spend an hour or two at Pickman’s, the pub on the ground floor of our office building.  My colleagues and I were in our usual booth at the back, drinking beer and talking about work, about our plans for the weekend… about normal things...


click here to read the rest.

Happy 6th Birthday PLAID STALLIONS!

I think a new villain is heading for Gotham City!

Want your heart to detonate in your chest? Than have I got a hamburger for you!




Burger King in Japan is currently running a promotion where you can add 15 strips of bacon to a burger for an extra ¥100 (~$1.25). So what did some reporter do? Went ALL IN and ordered 1,050 extra slices, creating this $90 monstrosity...


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In case you've missed any of the previous installments of Route d'abbaye

The Nick Of Time (and other abrasions): Route d'abbaye Track Eleven - Mean Mr. Mustard

The Nick Of Time (and other abrasions)

Route d'abbaye

Track Eleven

Mean Mr. Mustard


Al Bruno III

The brothel was decorated in shades of blushing red and labial pink. Sterile-looking erotic lithographs hung on the walls. The only light in the room came from the fireplace. There were armed guards stationed in every corner, well-muscled men wearing only leather diapers and crash helmets. The whores were lined up for inspection, each dressed in a uniform of rubber, latex and polythene. Their shiny black dresses were complimented by elbow length gloves, suicidally high heels and a mask that hid their hair and every facial feature save for their eyes.

Jack Diamond licked his lips, “Do I get my usual discount?”

“Oh... Of course,” the owner of the Sallow Sultan nodded. He was a tall, stooped man that walked with the aid of an ironwood cane. He wore a silk bathrobe, a powdered wig and an ascot. His skin was the color of old parchment and had earned him the nickname Mustard. “Does anything catch your... Eye?”

“Give me time,” the man in the seersucker suit paused to tweak one of the girl’s breasts, “I want something fresh and juicy.”

“We... Aim to please.”

Mustard hated his nickname almost as much as he hated his career choices. The Sallow Sultan was his fourth brothel and it looked like it might go bankrupt just like all the others. Mustard knew the Sallow Sultan had a good reputation but there was a distinct lack of walk-in business. Was it their proximity to the Hammond Academy campus? College girls giving it away were always a drain on the customer base. It was the old Sluts versus whores thing all over again; skill versus scale.

“I must admit...” Mustard said, “I was surprised to hear you were going to be paying us a visit. I assumed you had moved on to... Greener pastures.”

“What can I say? I got a sudden craving,” Jack Diamond paused beside one of the masked women and inhaled deeply, “that’s what I love about this place. All your whores smell like a kiddie pool filled with Astroglide.”

Mustard chuckled diplomatically. He had literally been praying for a bit of luck, a happy coincidence but of all the possible VIPs that could have come to the door why did it have to be the sleaziest mystic since Alistair Crowley?

And why wouldn’t the man just pick a whore and get on with it? Every damn one of them looked alike, that was part of the Sallow Sultan’s allure, the client could pretend he was with anyone or no one. Again Mustard cursed himself for not opening a bakery or a flower shop. Hadn’t his spiritual adviser Tracey warned him that Pimpin’ Ain’t Easy?

Jack Diamond paused in front of a girl, “I like this one.”


There was a gold name tag over one of her breasts, Jack Diamond read it, “Pam?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper, “I’m Pam.”

He pinched her, “Well, I’m ready to rock out with my cock out. How about you?”

“Actually I’m not feeling that well, maybe one of the other girls could-”

That was all Mustard needed to hear. He slammed the pommel of his cane into the polythene-clad girl's midsection. The other whores all flinched in sympathy. The girl doubled over gasping.

“Not feeling well?” the old pimp snarled, “I'll give you a not feeling well! You’ll never feel anything... Again!”

“I’m sorry,” she choked, “I didn't mean to-”

Mustard grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back, “If Mr. Diamond wants you, he'll damn well have you.”

“I'm sorry!” She said again, “I'm sorry!”

“Now now don't be mean Mister Mustard,” Jack Diamond took her arm and pulled it away from the yellow skinned pimp. “She was probably just intimidated by my reputation.”

“Yeah.” She breathed, “That's it. They say you have a cannon in your pants.”

“Damn straight,” Jack Diamond preened. “Come on Pam, I think we'll start with a little massage. I hear the girls here give a great massage.”

“If she doesn’t...” Mustard tapped the end of his cane on the girl’s masked forehead, “Give you the happiest of happy endings... I want to hear about it.”

Mustard watched her lead the leering man upstairs and thought to himself that happy ending or not he was going to beat that girl within an inch of her life.

Once they were out of sight Mustard dismissed the other whores with a wave of his hand and found his way to his favorite chair. It was a deep, plush club chair and he sank into it with a moan of gratitude. One of the whores tried to snuggle up to his leg but he slapped her away.

With any luck Jack Diamond’s visit would encourage other members of the Kuen-Yuin to come calling. Criminals and clergy always made for the best clients.

And if not? If this whole enterprise turned out to be a waste of time? Mustard frowned. He shifted in his seat and rustled around in his bathrobe pocket until he found the little red phial. He held it between two yellowed fingers and glared at the shape squirming within.

He had been given this thing as a gift. He had been promised that it would lead to a ‘coincidental’ increase in customers. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time.

But now?

The thought of himself praying before the little tube of red glass made his gorge rise.

“If I’ve been made a fool of...” Mustard whispered to himself, “...I’ll shove this thing down Jason Magwier’s throat.”

Click Here To Continue

Another collection of news blunders or "Keep f@cking that chicken."



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Thursday, April 19, 2012

The video CATS IN SPACE features CATS IN SPACE

Found on GAWKER


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(Insane News) Criminal Mastermind posts a picture of himself stealing gas from a police car. Hilarity ensues.



The 20-year-old's photo went viral in his hometown of Jenkins, Kentucky, and eventually reached the local police department, which sent officers to pay Baker a visit Monday evening.

He was charged with theft by unlawful taking and released. His arraignment was scheduled for today...


For the rest of the story visit GAWKER

LOVECRAFTeZINE inteviews the director of ABSENTIA


...I’m a huge Lovecraft fan. I’ve been wearing out the spine of my “Complete Works” for a long time now. His work is certainly a major influence on this film, and a lot of my other work as well.

It’s tough to explain too much without getting into spoilers, but I have always been haunted by his stories of extradimensional entities, particularly the concepts explored in “From Beyond” and “The Shunned House.” His depiction of the vast expanses of existence beyond the veil of our perception have influenced an awful lot of my writing. ABSENTIA deals with a lot of those ideas, through an admittedly minimalist lens.

There is that great plot element in “The Music of Erich Zann” that connects a nightmarish other realm with the disappearance of an entire street, and I’ve always found that so haunting. We obviously couldn’t take it anywhere near as far as that story does, but the idea of people going missing near the mouth of some inexplicable other realm is undoubtedly a major inspiration for ABSENTIA.

The people who come in contact with that place that connects that realm and ours are in great danger, both of losing their lives, and their minds.

I’m fascinated as well by his concept of the “Old Ones,” of ancient forces so alien to our experience that comprehending them is nearly impossible on our limited terms. I always imagined that the creature at work in ABSENTIA is a small inhabitant of something much bigger; just a cockroach in one of the cracks of a truly Lovecraftian realm that only barely overlaps our reality. They’re just little pests in that realm, but utterly horrifying and inexplicable by our standards...


To read the rest of the inteview visit LOVECRAFTeZine.


And trust me ABSENTIA is a terrific film.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

PROJECT ROOFTOP gives a costume redesign to Power Girl

I can remember when the Doctor meeting Captain Kirk was just fanfic...

Check out this short film version of THE SHADOW OUT OF TIME

From the always awesome LOVECRAFTeZine


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Monday, April 16, 2012

The good news is that my daughter is coming home from the hospital on Tuesday...

...the bad news is that I probably won't have any new posts ready until Friday.


Thanks for being patient with me this week and thanks for not forgetting about me.