Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Monday, December 29, 2014
Friday, December 26, 2014
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
Let's take another glimpse at steampunk Vampirella...
From BLEEDING COOL
As part of Dynamite’s new spinoff series from the Bill Willingham creation, Legenderry: A Steampunk Adventure, we get this first look at some of the interior pages from Legenderry: Vampirella #1. The four-part miniseries is being done by David Avallone and David Cabrera and hits comic shelves in February. Here are the first three pages from the book...
As part of Dynamite’s new spinoff series from the Bill Willingham creation, Legenderry: A Steampunk Adventure, we get this first look at some of the interior pages from Legenderry: Vampirella #1. The four-part miniseries is being done by David Avallone and David Cabrera and hits comic shelves in February. Here are the first three pages from the book...
Red Sonja wears pants somtimes? Does that mean I have to?
via BLEEDING COOL
With the holidays approaching quickly you may not have time to get to the comic store but still want something new to read. Here Dynamite has given us Red Sonja #7 by Gail Simone and Walter Geovani for you to read for free...
With the holidays approaching quickly you may not have time to get to the comic store but still want something new to read. Here Dynamite has given us Red Sonja #7 by Gail Simone and Walter Geovani for you to read for free...
Saturday, December 13, 2014
Have you experienced 'THE ASTONISHINGLY INCOMPETENT SUPERHERO ART OF FLETCHER HANKS'?
Hanks was born in 1887. We know he was married and had a son but then packed up and left around 1930. According to his son, who is named Fletcher Hanks Jr., he was an alcoholic and physically abused his wife and son. We know that he was found, frozen to death on a park bench in Manhattan in January 1976, at the age of 88. Hanks’ work had two primary characters, “Stardust the Super Wizard” and “Fantomah the Mystery Woman of the Jungle,” and a host of less interesting characters like Space Smith, Big Red McLane, and Whirlwind Carter. Hanks used pseudonyms like Hank Christy, Barclay Flagg, Bob Jordan, and Charles Netcher. As Karasik points out in the video below, part of the fascination Hanks exerts is that he is a rare early case of a true auteur, a comics artist who “wrote, penciled, inked, lettered, and, I think, colored his work.”...
Click here to read the rest...
Friday, December 12, 2014
BLEEDING COOL's Octavio Karbank remembers Cathy Lee Crosby's terrible outing as Wonder Woman!
From BLEEDING COOL
Starring Cathy Lee Crosby, better known for anything else she ever did, and directed by Vincent McEeety, meet the powerless, karate-choppin’, lasso and tiara-less, blond Wonder Woman! Oh, and she has a utility belt. Do any of those things sound remotely like Wonder Woman? If you answered no, you’re correct! However, ABC didn’t really care what you or anyone else thought and figured this Wonder Woman should don an outfit that looked like an Olympic skiing jumpsuit. The only real connection to Wonder Woman is Crosby’s character, named Diana Prince, who just so happens to be an Amazon, and the relatively faithful origin. Similar to the comics, Diana is sent from her home in Themyscira to our world, but everything goes positively bonkers from there...
Starring Cathy Lee Crosby, better known for anything else she ever did, and directed by Vincent McEeety, meet the powerless, karate-choppin’, lasso and tiara-less, blond Wonder Woman! Oh, and she has a utility belt. Do any of those things sound remotely like Wonder Woman? If you answered no, you’re correct! However, ABC didn’t really care what you or anyone else thought and figured this Wonder Woman should don an outfit that looked like an Olympic skiing jumpsuit. The only real connection to Wonder Woman is Crosby’s character, named Diana Prince, who just so happens to be an Amazon, and the relatively faithful origin. Similar to the comics, Diana is sent from her home in Themyscira to our world, but everything goes positively bonkers from there...
Not only is John Kenneth Muir's article 'Déjà vu All Over Again' a fun read- it also has a picture of Robey I'd never seen before!
From FLASHBAK
Once upon a time, major TV series in America were expected to be on the air and producing new material for twenty-five to thirty weeks a year.
Sometimes, production companies fell behind in this rigorous schedule.
Sometimes they simply ran out of money, or were budgeting for an expensive, upcoming sweeps installment, and needed a breather.
And sometimes, the producers were just rushing to put something together in anticipation of a writers or actors strike.
All such production disruptions could necessitate the creation of a terrible Frankenstein Monster: the dreaded “clips show.”
This was an episode of an otherwise beloved and entertaining series in which protagonists convened to recollect “events” in their lives, sometimes to solve a mystery or eliminate a threat. But the ploy was…transparent.
These character “memories” were visualized on screen as, literally, clips from previous episodes. The result was a rerun that wasn’t billed as one.
Even the best of shows in the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s were not immune to the horror of the “clips show.”
Here are five examples of this unfortunate necessity, and they are all pretty terrible...
Click here to read the rest
And now the pervy perfection of that pic!
Once upon a time, major TV series in America were expected to be on the air and producing new material for twenty-five to thirty weeks a year.
Sometimes, production companies fell behind in this rigorous schedule.
Sometimes they simply ran out of money, or were budgeting for an expensive, upcoming sweeps installment, and needed a breather.
And sometimes, the producers were just rushing to put something together in anticipation of a writers or actors strike.
All such production disruptions could necessitate the creation of a terrible Frankenstein Monster: the dreaded “clips show.”
This was an episode of an otherwise beloved and entertaining series in which protagonists convened to recollect “events” in their lives, sometimes to solve a mystery or eliminate a threat. But the ploy was…transparent.
These character “memories” were visualized on screen as, literally, clips from previous episodes. The result was a rerun that wasn’t billed as one.
Even the best of shows in the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s were not immune to the horror of the “clips show.”
Here are five examples of this unfortunate necessity, and they are all pretty terrible...
Click here to read the rest
And now the pervy perfection of that pic!
Another week without the Night Blogger... I miss him too...
This is getting to be a habit isn't it? Usually my writing has been an escape from my troubles but not lately, lately any time I try to rev up the old creative engines I start thinking about my Mom and shut down. In a fit of desperation I finished up an old story I lost interest in called 'MR. CROAD AND ME'. It felt good to finish something and folks seem to like it.
Since all I want to do is sleep and mope, and also because we had to pawn her laptop to keep the lights on I am letting my daughter use my computer most nights. She has been experimenting with fiction and poetry of her own lately.
So, long and short of it, I have not given up on you my loyal readers, I am just trying to deal with things. I am hoping that after the holidays I can become prolific again.
I now return you to the standard geeky news and girly pics.
Since all I want to do is sleep and mope, and also because we had to pawn her laptop to keep the lights on I am letting my daughter use my computer most nights. She has been experimenting with fiction and poetry of her own lately.
So, long and short of it, I have not given up on you my loyal readers, I am just trying to deal with things. I am hoping that after the holidays I can become prolific again.
I now return you to the standard geeky news and girly pics.
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
TELEPORT CITY examines David Lynch's facinating and frustrating 'Mulholland Drive'
From TELEPORT CITY
And so we are left on our own to drift through this freakish true crime dreamscape of Los Angeles that David Lynch has constructed. Mulholland Drive throws you into this world without bothering to explain the rules that govern it. It becomes something akin to a snake devouring its own tail. Lynch’s dream of Los Angeles is a patchwork quilt of real life and romantic legend, of old pulp and hopeful dreams and bitter disillusion set against a backdrop of back alleys and neon, cafes and glamorous parties and oddly remote mansions, and drawn from half a dozen decades. And that dark fantasy land Los Angeles feeds my own sinister romance of Los Angeles. Which is why Mulholland Drive has such an emotional impact with me. It is very easy to identify with Betty, the hopeful young romantic who clings desperately to her illusion of Los Angeles even as the more mundane and grimmer reality seeps in from all sides...
Click here to read the rest.
And so we are left on our own to drift through this freakish true crime dreamscape of Los Angeles that David Lynch has constructed. Mulholland Drive throws you into this world without bothering to explain the rules that govern it. It becomes something akin to a snake devouring its own tail. Lynch’s dream of Los Angeles is a patchwork quilt of real life and romantic legend, of old pulp and hopeful dreams and bitter disillusion set against a backdrop of back alleys and neon, cafes and glamorous parties and oddly remote mansions, and drawn from half a dozen decades. And that dark fantasy land Los Angeles feeds my own sinister romance of Los Angeles. Which is why Mulholland Drive has such an emotional impact with me. It is very easy to identify with Betty, the hopeful young romantic who clings desperately to her illusion of Los Angeles even as the more mundane and grimmer reality seeps in from all sides...
Click here to read the rest.
Sunday, December 7, 2014
GoFundMe update
We are also having one Hell of a time paying for prescriptions so anything you can to help would be appreciated.
Does anyone out there remember PIZZAZZ? Flashbak does! (I do too, I'm old.)
From FLASHBAK
What kid growing up in the seventies didn’t enjoy PIZZAZZ magazine? It was more a less a knock off of the popular Scholastic magazines Dynamite and, more closely, Bananas. However, this had the Marvel Comics badge, and so it was extra cool – Spidey and The Hulk were popping up everywhere on the pages of PIZZAZZ...
What kid growing up in the seventies didn’t enjoy PIZZAZZ magazine? It was more a less a knock off of the popular Scholastic magazines Dynamite and, more closely, Bananas. However, this had the Marvel Comics badge, and so it was extra cool – Spidey and The Hulk were popping up everywhere on the pages of PIZZAZZ...
Thursday, December 4, 2014
Something tells me that Christmas in Scarfolk is unique...
From SCARFOLK COUNCIL
The most desired model kits were those based on popular childrens' television programmes, one of which was a show called Deformed Anonymous Infant Demon, or DAID for short. DAID was a crime-fighting eight year old with a difference. He had 4 arms and one leg because his psychic mother heavily smoked and drank during trances while she was pregnant. For some reason, this also made DAID a demon...
The most desired model kits were those based on popular childrens' television programmes, one of which was a show called Deformed Anonymous Infant Demon, or DAID for short. DAID was a crime-fighting eight year old with a difference. He had 4 arms and one leg because his psychic mother heavily smoked and drank during trances while she was pregnant. For some reason, this also made DAID a demon...
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Saturday, November 29, 2014
GoFundMe and the pawn shop blues...
Hope everyone had an enjoyable Thanksgiving and a survivable Black Friday. I worked both days but since I am no longer in retail I don't mind much.
December is almost here and I must admit I am really looking forward to seeing the end of 2014. It was a rough year by all accounts and measures.
In other news we are trying to get some of our personal electronics out of the friendly neighborhood pawn shop. We had to give up one laptop and two tablets to keep food on the table and gas in the cars.
Anything you can do to help would be appreciated.
Thursday, November 27, 2014
Thanksgivng Post #4: RAGNAROK FRIDAY
by
Al Bruno III
It was morning in River City, one of the coldest on record but George Gordon was sweating his behind off. He was an asthmatic but even with his puffer handy he felt like he was suffocating. He couldn't breathe, he could barely move, his muscles ached from the simple act of steading himself. A horde of people pressed in on all sides and jostled for position. No one made eye contact, everyone just kept their attention fixated on the front doors of the Wal-Mart and the Black Friday bargains contained within.
It was almost time. George ran the shopping list through his head again-he had to find a certain toy, a particular laptop and a dozen or so other nicknacks. None of it was for him however, he had volunteered for this mission; volunteered because his supervisor Rex Alvin Peele had hinted it would be beneficial to George's career goals.
A ripple of movement went through the crowd. The front doors were opening. The Wal-Mart staff tried to control the flow of shoppers passing inside but there was no stemming this tide of consumerism. In the end they could only stand back and hope to God they didn’t loose any greeters this year.
George stayed on his feet and kept pace with the surge of humanity. He wondered briefly if his alter ego might be better suited to this kind of mayhem but he decided against it almost immediately. He wasn’t about to trust his debit card and pin number to a Viking avenger. Super hero or not.
A snarl startled George from his thoughts.
No not one snarl, dozens of them.
Up ahead the crowd was changing, growing taller, and greener. Their eyes became black and their mouths slavered. George Gordon knew what they were turning into.
Trolls! Actual trolls, not the internet kind.
George risked standing on his tip toes and saw the doorway to the Wal-Mart glowing. “Wait!” he shouted, “Turn back!”
But there was no stopping the eager shoppers and when he tried to stop himself from being pushed forward he only succeeded in getting knocked to the ground.
And now he was being trampled and tripped over. No one was stopping to help him.
There was only one thing to do. He pressed his fists to the sides of his head with the pointer fingers raised and shouted, “I summon... HROTHGAR!”
Suddenly the meek mannered DMV employee was gone, in his place was a blonde-haired burly man wearing a horned metal helmet and wielding a great sword. He was Hrothgar the Last Warrior of Valhalla!
And someone was standing on his pelvis.
With a mighty cry Hrothgar rose up to his full six feet in height sending coupon clutching potential shoppers flying in every direction. It took only moments for his steely eyed gaze to lock onto the strangely glowing doorway. He knew the sight of dark Asgardian magic when he saw it. Hrothgar's whipcord muscles tensed in anticipation.
He ran at the entrance to the store, crashing through the crowd until he was directly beneath the sickly green glow. Cursed runes had been carved into the metal of the doorframe. Any ordinary mortal passing beneath them would be transformed into a troll but Hrothgar was no ordinary mortal. The helmet he wore had been forged by the dwarven masters and would protect the Last Warrior of Valhalla from any and all enchantments.
With a single blow from his mighty blade he shattered the metal and glass of the doorway. He howled with victory only to realize that the trollish figures were not reverting back to human form. Instead they were turning to attack him, their clawed hands grasping.
Honor demanded that Hrothgar not harm the ensorceled humans so he scrambled atop one of the cash registers and leapt into the housewares department. Unlike his allies the Local Heroes he was no scientist, detective or well meaning chiropractor; he was merely a warrior but he knew only one person could be responsible for magic like this.
Hrothgar found his quarry in the pet department, a tall wolf-headed man dressed in a three piece suit. He was gloating and snacking on Snausages. “Well met old friend.”
It was Fenrir, Son of Loki. The newly made trolls were howling and making their way closer. Hrothgar’s battle-trained senses told him that as soon as they were done ransacking the ladies underwear department they would be on him.
He pointed his blade at Fenrir, “Let them go. Let all of them go or suffer my wrath.”
Fenrir laughed mockingly and drew a blade of his own, “Your wrath means nothing to me, coward of Valhalla!”
Honor demanded that Hrothgar avenge this insult. He roared and swung his blade in a wide arc. Fenrir raised his sword to parry the blow and it shattered liked so much glass.
“Er,” the wolf-headed man said, “um.”
And before Hrothgar could strike again Fenrir disappeared in a cloud of cold fire and humiliation.
With the Son of Loki, defeated the spell was broken and the shoppers were returning to normal. The experience had left them unmarked save for torn clothes and confused memories. Hrothgar spied an elderly man in a blue vest trying to stand, he strode over and offered his arm.
When the man shrunk away Hrothgar said, “Steady on old wolf. The battle is over and we are victorious.”
The greeter struggled to his feet and said, “You- you saved us all didn’t you? You’re a hero!”
“Aye, but I need no thanks. Glory is its own reward...” Hrothgar paused to read the man’s name tag, “...Phillip.”
“I still want to thank you. I know this isn’t much...” Phillip reached into his pocket and placed a smiley sticker on the Viking's helmet.
The Last Hero of Valhalla responded to this the way honor demanded. Thankfully the greeter survived his injuries but Hrothgar was never allowed into that Wal Mart again.
Jon Bois' (@jon_bois) eulogy for Radio Shack is a thing of epic beauty!
4:30 a.m. We show up an hour and a half before the store opens, as demanded by the district office. We stand around and do nothing.
6:00 a.m. We all line up in expectation of hordes of customers. Six on one side of the store, six on the other side, pallbearers of an invisible casket. The manager opens the doors. No one is waiting on the other end.
7:00 a.m. Nobody has walked into the store. Nobody has been seen even walking past the store. This infuriates the manager, who at this juncture elects to fire one employee, right there on the spot, because her sweater is a shade of red that is inconsistent with the dress code.
8:00 a.m. Someone almost walks in. She kind of turns toward the store, sees 11 of us just standing and staring at her, and turns a 180. Don't blame you, ma'am.
9:00 a.m. First customer! Someone just walked in and bought a cordless phone battery. One of us would have made approximately 23 cents on the sale (18 cents after taxes), except you don't start making any sales commission until you surpass a monthly sales figure that is usually unreachable and arbitrarily set. (I worked at RadioShack for 43 months, and barely hit this mark once.)
12:00 p.m. We've sold maybe $90 worth of stuff. Two more employees walk out and don't come back.
2:00 p.m. A couple comes in to return a pair of cell phones I sold them a couple weeks back. I received about $40 for the sale on my last paycheck, and now they will take $40 out of my next paycheck. Voiding a cell phone contract is a process that takes an hour or so of waiting on the phone and talking to three or four different gatekeepers. This time, it's even longer, because someone errantly slapped them with a $200 cancellation fee. My manager gets wind of this and starts screaming at me: "JON, WHAT DID YOU DO? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?" She then tries to initiate a shouting match with my customers, who don't bite.
3:00 p.m. Two more employees quit, one because the manager has refused to give her a lunch break over a 10.5-hour shift.
9:00 p.m. Mercifully, and with sales numbers that are beyond abysmal, the district office tells us to close the store and not to remain open until midnight, as planned. Someone else came in to return a phone, so my sales are now about $60 in the hole. I make $5.45 an hour, and have worked a 16.5-hour shift, so that's about $90. Minus the $60 I've lost, that's $30. So today, I have made about $1.80 per hour, for a shift of nearly 17 hours. Before taxes.
9:45 p.m. Ha ha ha ha I am still at the store, counting the money and helping clean up and such, but not getting paid for it. This is RadioShack's thing: if you're working while the store's closed, they might decide to pay you and they might not. I worked countless hours they never paid me for; this is one. We finally close up. On the way to the parking lot, I ask my manager whether I can take Christmas Eve off; this would allow me barely enough time to make the seven-hour drive home to Kentucky to see my family, then head back. She doesn't say no. She yells no, and tells me I'm not special...
Click here to read the rest
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Holiday mayhem has now caught up with Tristam Bloom and the gang...
No THE COLD INSIDE this week, busy crazy holiday stuff going on.
Things will get normal on this blog soon I swear.
Things will get normal on this blog soon I swear.
Saturday, November 22, 2014
A minor emergency...
A minor emergency.
Once again we find ourselves in a situation where my wife's meds have run out before my paycheck. Now she isn't going to die without them and we have been through this before but she will be uncomfortable.
So if you have any change left after buying your turkeys and stuffing please help if you can.
Once again we find ourselves in a situation where my wife's meds have run out before my paycheck. Now she isn't going to die without them and we have been through this before but she will be uncomfortable.
So if you have any change left after buying your turkeys and stuffing please help if you can.
Friday, November 21, 2014
Overtime, the Night Blogger and other madness...
Well, it looks like I am going to have to change my Night Blogger posting schedule to a bi-weekly format. My workload has been slowing me down and I haven't been able to keep up on videos and podcasts either. THE COLD INSIDE will continue to be posted weekly since that novel is complete.
Thanks for sticking with me through all the changes...
Thanks for sticking with me through all the changes...
You don't have to believe the stories on my blog, you can dismiss them as good hallucinations or bad fiction if you want to but they're all true. The darkness was never empty, there are things that wait for the innocent and unwary to turn their backs. What is it you think I'm talking about here? Ghosts? Vampires? Ghouls? If only it were that simple. The creatures of the night are still out there but they're not shadowing your every footstep. They just check your status updates from the comfort of their tombs.
All I ever wanted was to be a Do-It-Yourself style reporter but more often than I like I find myself becoming part of my stories. It turns out gods and monsters don't like their secrets getting out any more than your standard politician or celebrity. We all know how this is going to turn out in the end; I'm already long overdue for jail, the looney bin or a guest of honor spot at a monster buffet but until that fateful day I'm not going to back down or give up.
My name is Brian Foster and some people call me The Night Blogger.
But I wish they wouldn't it's kinda cheesy.
Storyline In Progress
Completed Stories
Part Three: Digging In The Dirt
Part Four: The Red Chimes
Part Five: Back From The Shadows Again
Part Six: The Devil's In The House Of The Rising Sun
Part Seven: The House Of Gorgo
Part Eight: The Parliament Of Moloch
Part Nine: Under The Eye Of Luna
Part Ten: The Tale Of Detective Bradshaw
Part Eleven: Waiting For The Mortician Or Someone Like Him
Part Twelve: The Shape On The Stairwell
Part Thirteen: It's What's Inside That Counts
Part Fourteen: Dies Irae
Part Four: The Red Chimes
Part Five: Back From The Shadows Again
Part Six: The Devil's In The House Of The Rising Sun
Part Seven: The House Of Gorgo
Part Eight: The Parliament Of Moloch
Part Nine: Under The Eye Of Luna
Part Ten: The Tale Of Detective Bradshaw
Part Eleven: Waiting For The Mortician Or Someone Like Him
Part Twelve: The Shape On The Stairwell
Part Thirteen: It's What's Inside That Counts
Part Fourteen: Dies Irae
Part One: Hello Operator, Give Me Number Nine
Part Two: Where There's Smoke...
Part Three: Crooked Teeth
Part Four: Twizzlers And Beer
Part Five: The Canned Hunt
Part Six: Who Can It Be Now
Part Seven: The Box
Part Two: Where There's Smoke...
Part Three: Crooked Teeth
Part Four: Twizzlers And Beer
Part Five: The Canned Hunt
Part Six: Who Can It Be Now
Part Seven: The Box
Part Eight: Kalo Junction
Part Nine: Foster Got Fingered
Part Ten: Assignment Terror
Part Eleven: Pineapple Rendition
Part Twelve: The Clemens Callback
Part Thirteen: Run In With The Devil
Part Fourteen: Women And Children
Part Fifteen: The Tarantino Situation
Part Sixteen: Our Nada Who Art In Nada
Part Seventeen: Photo Finish
Part Nine: Foster Got Fingered
Part Ten: Assignment Terror
Part Eleven: Pineapple Rendition
Part Twelve: The Clemens Callback
Part Thirteen: Run In With The Devil
Part Fourteen: Women And Children
Part Fifteen: The Tarantino Situation
Part Sixteen: Our Nada Who Art In Nada
Part Seventeen: Photo Finish
The Podcasts
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Latest GoFundMe update...
Just checking in before the Thanksgiving Holiday. I have to work that day but here is hoping you don't have to! My wife is almost a 100% recovered from the surgery and her Crohn's disease seems to be in remission. Joint pain is still an issue, so she still has the occasional sleepless night. That's the next thing to take care of I guess. Here is hoping that 2015 will be a much less... exciting year.
That being said the bills are still there, nibbling away at our ability to keep food in the fridge and gas in the car. Anything you can do would be appreciated...
Monday, November 17, 2014
Thursday, November 13, 2014
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