Psycho Christmas Massacre

In the grand tradition of farce, here's a cynical bit of poetry for the Christmas season.  Something of a Bob Dylan meets Frank Zappa, with a little Spike Jones and Weird Al mixed in; it's wild, crazy, and mismatched to reflect the chaos of the season.  Don't be offended by the mad rambling.  Have a merry freakin' Christmas!

Get your shotgun ready

you know it's gonna snow

We've seen the last of

green, green grass

so the end is sure to come.

It's not another solstice,

it's the end of days.

Make sure you've got

your stocking full

before you kneel and pray.

Christmas time's a-coming

get ready to spend, spend, spend.

The world is made of money

so your credit card says.

But watch out when you go shopping

'cause granny's on the warpath.

She needs to buy those new designer jeans
for her grandson in the pen

and you know she's gonna hit you

with her psychedelic bat.

Keep your shotgun ready

to claim that final turkey.

An angry mob of mothers

will take the skin off your back

They'll bludgeon you for kicks

and use your blood

for decoration.

Ho, ho, ho,

You know that's a

hateful thing to say.

Don't you know

the prostitutes now have

a union of their own?

They ain't no hos anymore.

They're all legally licensed for resale.

Santa Claus,

more like Satan's Claws

They don't call 'em sleigh bells

for nothing.

The man in red

will have your head

on a pole to terrorize his elves.

Keep the greenies

sweating in the shop,

cranking out hunks of plastic

laced with lead and arsenic.

You know his workshop was

outsourced to China.

Now he's really red!

No more Rudolph,

they farmed him out

to the butcher's shop,

for no one really knows

if there's a reindeer in the stew.

Beware the store brand;

it may be you you're eating!

Shop 'til you drop

onto the icy pavement slop

and give up your soul and toil

to the man next door

with the mortgage a mile long.

He doesn't care if he sells out

his wife and kids' future to

afford that fifty inch wide screen

so long as he's fat and happy,

he can watch the football game.

Credit is free money

nobody has to pay!

Madmen climbing the wire

of their store-bought prisons.

You know Uncle Sam

would be ashamed

of the farce this world's turned into.

Cats are eating the flesh off

the fingers of the frozen

hobo on the street corner

all for lack of a restaurant.
Dogs are mating under

cardboard boxes in the

alley, beside the lonely

astronaut who's had his

shuttle grounded by the President.

There are cowards in the street

waving switchblades and firecrackers

wishing they were Jesse James

or O.J. Simpson.

There's blood in the air

and smoke in the water

and everyone's crying crocodile tears.

Does anyone really care?

This was Christ's season

once upon a time,

but that's all over now.

Don't forget to pray to your

pagan idols on the stage.

They might put Cocaine in your stocking!

Everyone knows it's the end times,

so make sure your shotgun's loaded

Zombie apocalypse may be

just around the corner.

Just ask the tabloid man.

When it comes down to it

you can never be too ready.

Buy ammo, and whatever comes,

you'll know the score.

Have a happy holiday.

A Merry Christmas to all,

and hope you survive!

Hurricane Blues (Minstrel Mondays)

Every year, those of us on the east coast of the United States are terrorized by weathermen and media pundits, decrying the "storm of the century."  Oh!  The mega-hurricane is coming up the coast!  It's going to level every city, drown dogs in their back yards, throw great-white sharks up into supermarket parking lots where they'll eat your children!  Help!  Help!   Aughh-gurgle-gurgle!

This year it was Irene, which did little more than bring a bunch of rain down upon us.  There was one unfortunate guy who had a tree limb fall on him, but other than that and a handful of other unfortunate incidents, it was a pretty harmless storm.

Here's a little song I threw together for the blessed event!  God save Biff Buffington!

It's been raining 'round the bend

Looks like it's never gonna end

And here I sit alone in this parade

No telling where I've been

Or when I'll be back again

For the Weather Channel calls for Armageddon!

But the wind and the rain

Don't cause a lot of pain

For me

'Cause I'm sitting in this room

Looking out at Sunday gloom

But the sun will still be shining in the morning.

The hurricane drizzle couldn't make a flag unfurl

And the trees are barely waving

Yet they evacuate the masses

Lock them up together

For their own protection

So the rapes and looting can go on unabated

Meanwhile the rain keeps falling

And the clouds are surely laughing

At the ludicrosity of man's folly

But you never know

God might send down his big toe

And squash all them unbelievers

It can't get much calmer

Eye of the storm is

The entirety of its being

It's not about to make

Widows of the great

Mover and shakers of our time

More people will die

Choking on candied ginger

Than fall prey to the storm of the century

Pray your way to safety

After all disaster is dead

God didn't send it to kick your ass

Or else you'd be kissing his now

Why must it take irrational fear

To send the faithful flying?

Shouldn't they believe in the glory

Of a bright summer's day?

The storm is a-comin'

Don't doubt it for a second

You'll all be eating string beans

And crying for your mommies

When the rain never stops

And the trusses fall apart

You'll be wishing you'd bought

Salvation for $19.95

Then maybe you'd still be alive

You know we'll all be

Better off tomorrow

Holler and cheer

That you beat the reaper yet again

Never will false prophecies of doom

Escape your waiting mind

It'll come true next time

So says primetime

Star Trek Blogfest 2011

It's time for some frivolous fun.  As a recovering Trekoholic, this particular blogfest seemed right up my alley.  The objective is to list 5 episodes and 5 characters from the various Star Trek series, and explain why they're great.  Is it a coincidence that there were 5 regular television series?  I think not!  To keep things even, I'll feature 1 episode and 1 character from each of the different versions of Trek.  So, let's start off with 5 fine characters:

Scotty –He didn't have as big a role in the original series as he could have, but the chief engineer had his moments.  He kept the ship running, even when it meant violating the laws of physics.  Aye, he did have the power!

Data –The most unique and entertaining of characters from The Next Generation.  Data had the most character development of any Star Trek entity.  He was good for a laugh, and kept the show from being too dry at times.  He also could perform super-human feats of strength and intelligence.  He was the greatest!  I deny the existence of "Nemesis."  What a horrible and stupid movie!

Quark –It's funny how the most alien-looking characters can sometimes be the most human at heart.  Quark is certainly that, whether you look at his greed or the kind and considerate side he hides behind it.  He's like a small-time mobster trying for the big score.  The womanizing was a bit much, though that's Ferengi for you.  Of course, he wouldn't have been half as good without Odo to keep him in check...

The Doctor –I've said it before without shame:  Voyager is my favorite of the various Star Trek series.  Therefore, this was a tough call, but for today at least I'll go with the nameless holographic doctor.  Robert Picardo really is a great actor, and without his particular style of acting The Doctor wouldn't have been able to stand out as he did.  As the series evolved, he could easily switch from comical awkwardness to moral righteousness, and was really the soul of the show.

Trip –Book-ending the character selections with engineers, Charles Tucker the Third was certainly the best from Enterprise.  For a series that had its ups and downs (and died a premature death) he stayed fairly consistent, and was always interesting and engaging.  Screw the series finale: bring him back to life!

Okay, we've gone through the 5 characters.  Now, let's pick out 5 episodes, one from each series.  These aren't necessarily the "best," and my choice of "favorite" changes on a regular basis, but these are among the 5 that generally land near the top at all times.

The Deadly Years –Season 2 of the Original Series had some real winners, and this is one that always stuck with me.  The concept of rapid aging is a nice plot device when used properly, and this is by far one of the best uses, right up there with Stargate SG-1's "Brief Candle."  This episode also has one of the funniest Chekov moments ever:  "If I survive, they're going to run out of samples."

The Inner Light –One of the most emotionally wrenching episodes of any Star Trek series, The Next Generation's mini-epic gives Picard an entire life in 25 minutes, and gives us a tragic yet lovable storyline.  It'll make you sad in a good way.

What You Leave Behind –With Deep Space Nine, it's very hard to pick a single episode, since so much of the series consisted of multi-part epics.  Really, the last 10 episodes were one story, but the finale had to be the absolute best the show had to offer.  So long as you can sit down and watch the previous half-season first, this finale will move you!

The Year of Hell –Everybody loves this 2-parter (well, almost everyone), so it might be a bit of a cop-out to pick it.  It's such a populist choice, and when it comes to Voyager I could pick so many different episodes.  Each season has half a dozen I call "favorites," so for once I'll play it safe.  This really is one of the best Star Trek stories.  Temporal meddling + pending doom = excellence!  (I just wish they would've cashed in on the future potential of this episode, and had us meet some "alternate" versions of the characters later on.  Somebody left their temporal shields online, hint-hint.  Hey, you'll get my meaning after you watch it).

Similitude –Some people have a problem with the whole Xindi saga from Enterprise.  Season 3 was a bit like DS9's last few seasons, in that it was one single storyline, with a few stray side stories peppered throughout.  But among the main story-arc of the season, there were some real nuggets, and this is one of my favorites.  There is some serious emotion in this one, much like we find in The Inner Light.  It's a story of life, plain and simple.

Well, there you have it, 5 & 5.  Now go Trek yourself.  Do it today!

Saturday The 13th

Spooky!  It's that uncommon occurrence when the 13th day of the month happens to land on a Saturday.  How scary is that?  Much more frightening than a lousy Friday, that's for sure.

I was never one for superstition, and have often turned such foolish beliefs around, as evidenced by my Lucky 13 books.  Friday the 13th is not something that concerns me, and I laugh at it.  Of course, one year ago today, my mother died on Friday the 13th, so there's some irony for you!  Other than that, I can't think of anything really bad happening on a 13.

I've heard different legends about where the fear of the number 13 comes from, and the most common one revolved around the fact that there were 13 people at the Last Supper, and it was on a Friday.  Somehow, that's supposed to spell bad luck, because Christ got betrayed and crucified shortly thereafter.  Ohhh-kay.  Regardless of the origin, I would not advise anyone to fear the number 13.

So, here's a short ditty I tossed together ages ago to commemorate this special conjunction of number and day!

Thirteens have usually been good to me.

I've never known a bad one.

But I just don't know

how today's going to be for me.

Saturday the thirteenth; scary, indeed.

Saturday Shenanigans: We Be Taggin'

Fellow Science Fiction writer Ellie Garratt was kind enough to tag me on Friday, so I now get to answer some frivolous questions and spread the wealth by tagging more bloggers who will no doubt thank me for the opportunity to do the same!

Okay, here we go:

1. Do you think you're hot?

My wife does, and that's all that really matters.

2. Upload a picture or wallpaper you're using at the moment.

This is the picture I'm currently using as my desktop wallpaper.  It's a shelf I stained & varnished last winter, and it sits at the bottom of a set of brick stairs in my home.

3. When was the last time you ate chicken meat?

Thursday.  I pan-fried some boneless breast fillets (lightly breaded) on Tuesday, and took pieces for lunch on-the-job.

4. The song you listened to recently.

Right now, as I'm writing this, my Windows Media Player is on random, and came up with "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For," by U2.  I have a bunch of different music in my system (all from genuinely licensed CDs, no illegal downloads for me!).

5. What were you thinking when you were doing this?

I was thinking "How am I going to finish the latest short story I started a few days ago,"  "What am I going to eat for breakfast?"  "Maybe I should brag about how I don't download illegal music,"  "My back hurts,"  "I wish Stargate Universe hadn't been cancelled," and "Perhaps I should clear the junk off my desk one of these days."  Phew!  That was just one particular moment.  My brain multitasks!

6. Do you have nicknames? What are they?

I really don't have any contemporary nicknames, though the nastier kids in grade school used to call me "groundhog" and various other insults (since my father built our house half-underground).  Sometimes I use "Martinus" as name on internet forums.

7. Tag eight bloggers.

A whole eight?  Nah, I think I'll knock the number down a little (I dare to rebel).  So, I'm going to do six, and see how that works.  If I happen to tag anyone who has already been tagged, oh well.  Also, if for whatever reason you six don't feel like playing along with this exercise, feel free to skip it (not all of us can be wild and wacky with these things).

Matt Nord
Gerald Costlow
Kenshin
Alva J. Roberts
Mike Wood
D. Nathan Hilliard

8. A few questions about your tagged friends... 

Who's listed as number one?

Matt Nord, horror writer extraordinaire.  We met over at the Pill Hill Press forum last year.

Say something about number five.

Mike Wood's another writer (notice a trend here) who I encountered during the ABNA contest.  He's quite a character when he wants to be.

How did you get to know number three?

"Sailor" Kenshin and I both moderated a discussion forum years ago, and we've been online friends ever since.  Besides being into pens and knitting, she's a talented writer, and also does some nice artwork.  One of her paintings serves as the cover for the Amazon.com edition of "The Rogue Investigations."

How about number four?

Alva's another fine writer I met through Pill Hill Press.  His wife Jessy runs the place, and did a great job editing The Guns of Mars.  Alva designed the cover for it.

Leave a message for number six.

Hey, Nathan, how's the sequel to The Ways of Khrem coming along (or is it)?

Leave a lovey-dovey message for number two.

Who am I, Anthony Weiner?  Forget it!

Do numbers seven and eight have any similarities?

Yeah, they don't exist (he he).

That's enough fun for one Saturday morning.  Have a great weekend, everyone!

Jojo Jelly Bean

I was at Mardens' the other day, and I came across a most menacing looking box of candy. Jojo Jelly Bean (no "s" on the box). From the Asian symbols on the front of the box, I could tell this was not a domestic candy, and it was just so bizarre I had to buy an example, so you could have a look at it.

The zombie-like clown feeding bug-eyed children with his tongue is downright creepy!

Now, I'm impartial on the whole "clown controversy." Yes, you know that whole "clowns are creepy and/or evil" belief that a lot of people seem to have these days (thank you, Stephen King). If this picture had an ordinary, friendly clown on it, I wouldn't really think much of it, but come on, that is one weird-looking sucker!

The box only cost me twenty-five cents (plus tax), so it wasn't a huge investment. The candy is made in China, so I'm not sure if I'll eat it. I don't really trust Chinese-made sweets (even though I love Chinese restaurant food). They may have slipped some lead or arsenic into these beans (it's been known to happen). Besides, I'm on a diet.

*For those of you who don't live in Maine, Mardens' is a chain of stores which sells surplus and salvage. Our current Governor used to run them, and it's a really great place to buy just about anything. Clothes, food, tools, hardware, furniture, flooring; you name it, they've got it, and generally much cheaper than anywhere else. Mind you, since they buy wholesale lots of stuff, they don't always have the same goods, and inventory shifts frequently. That's why their slogan is "I should have bought it when I saw it at Mardens."

Cynical Stupidity (Minstrel Mondays)

Picking through my collection of songs and poems starting with "C," I find very few. I don't have a lot of material starting with the third letter of the alphabet for some reason, but I did find this quirky little ditty I wrote down over ten years ago. It's weird and wacky, so don't expect to get much out of it.

One day when I was feeling mellow
I went to the beach and let out a bellow.
The sky was quite green and the sea it was yellow
just like some nice old jaundiced fellow.

Was that mellow yellow I saw there?
I didn't think to really care.
I had a head full of long, like hippy, hair
but I certainly swear, I was not bare.

I'm the kind of guy who screams
while in the middle of a mellow dream
just to liven up the scene.
Does it make me mean?

Just a touch of cynicism
mixed with moribund stupidity...

Next Monday, we'll be dealing with "I" and I have something much more poetic planned.  For sure, it'll make this look like roadkill.

Early Critics and The Guns of Mars

Back in 2009, when the Guns of Mars was a semi-finalist in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest, it received quite a bit of praise, but there were some detractors. Most of the negative comments came from fellow contestants, who thought they could improve their chances by writing up negative comments about their competitors. Of course, those reviews were only based on the first 5,000 words (the free excerpt Amazon displayed), so the negative reviewers often had to stretch their imaginations and make wild assumptions about the book's content.

In response, I threw together my own review, combining all of the negative comments and weaving them into a lampoon of those critics. I repost it here for those of you who haven't seen it before.

You suck! (1-star)

That sums up what I think of this writer in a nutshell. His writing is just so abhorrent I don't know where to begin. Let's start with chapter one. What the heck is going on? We're dumped right in the middle of the story, where Morgan (a guy with a girl's name?) is stranded on Mars. There's some kind of conspiracy going on, but we don't know how or why (lack of information is annoying here). He rambles on about missing his wife (hello, Elton John?), and then goes to sleep. We're told briefly about some interesting technology, like a space heater and a fancy pressure tent, but there's no technical schematics detailing how this technology works. Perhaps he is too stupid to describe the physics behind a "carbon scrubber?"

Next, we move into chapter two, which throws us back to the start of the story. Morgan sits in a classroom, learning about going to Mars (boring). A childish "colonel" comes in and acts like a prima-donna teenie-bopper, not a real military officer, and we discover she's somehow uncovered the secret to aging and reversed it? What does that have to do with Martian colonization? We also find out that Morgan is from the past, and there's virtual reality technology around? What? Too many plot threads are cropping up to confuse the feeble minded.

To wrap this excerpt up, Morgan goes home and has dinner with his wife (more boring), and we're left wondering what the heck he'll do next. Like I care!

This excerpt was boring, lacked technical detail, didn't have any gunplay (hello, Guns of Mars?), and the writer spent way too much time on character development. Who cares what these people think and feel? Let's get some action, and blow things up!

This book also looks way too complicated to be good. I mean, every complex story with such varied plotlines ends up sucking, just like that Dune series by that Herbert guy, and don't get me started on Heinlein. This writer does too much, and not enough at the same time. Not only that, but I bet he smells like turnips. Just my impression.

Such a scathing critique! It was very entertaining to throw this together back then, and I think it still stands up today. I had quite a few people complain that I spent too much time on character development, so it struck me by surprise when a recent review claimed I didn't do enough in that respect.

Well, I hope you've enjoyed this little blast from the past. Tune in next week for another adventurous review.

This Poetry Sucks! (Minstrel Mondays)

I've been going over my various pieces of old poetry lately, as I prepare these pieces for Minstrel Mondays, and this weekend I couldn't help but be disgusted by my own work. It seems that half of them are mushy love ballads which make me blush, and the others are bitter bitch fests, which decry the improprieties of society or individuals. I had to question my personal depth after reading such trifles.

Then, it dawned upon me. That's what poetry is, for the most part. It's either peace and love, or waaa, waaa, waaaah, nag, nag, nag! The truth of the matter is, poetry is about emotions, and the most obvious ones are love and hate. Poets are often found singing their love for someone or something, or they're complaining about how horrible things are. It's a flighty form of writing, based on limitless passion.

So, taking a couple of minutes out from my busy writing life, I threw down my feelings on the subject, though as latter lines explain, it is only a temporary emotional reaction. Next week, I might have a totally different outlook. That's poetry for you.

I love you,
I hate you
I need you,
Go away!
That's all I hear when I read what you say.
The flakes of emotional breaks.

It's what I get from
Everything we place on our screens,
The psychotic scenes of
mental masturbation for wordsmiths.

It's bitter,
It's beautiful
Eye of the beholder.
The poems they drip with
Sugary vinegar.
Whatever you feel,
It flows on the page
Like bibliographic vomit.

I tried to wade through
The cesspool of poetry
From a plethora of pedantic poets.
Yet it was no use
I felt it was abuse
Of my mind's eye and my writer's sanity.

Should I despise it,
This art form of failed expressions?
It's everything and nothing,
The ultimate art
For those who cannot draw.
Is it any wonder I could never make
A million bucks at weaving words
Which I held in contempt?

Do I really despise poetry?
It is a fair question, but
My answer could never be honest.
Name the day, and my view will change
For ours is a love/hate relationship.
To see the best rhyme, or freestyle slime,
It may seem the best candy
Or the sourest battery acid on the cerebrum.

Take these words for what they are,
A waste of time for your mind's eye
And maybe there you will find their worth.
Goodbye.

Road Kill Candy Bar

Let me tell you little story 'bout the Snickers I found.

Completely wrapped, but squished on the ground.

Plain as day sittin' right on the tar.

Long and flat 'cause it squished by a car.

Hi, y'all.  Let me tell you this here story now.

I went up to the Walmart today, looking to buy me some cat food.  As any of you feline owning folks out there know, them furry critters eats a lot, even when they be catching plenty o' mice in the field.  So, I went up there, and what did I find when I comes out of the store but a completely wrapped Snickers candy bar (not to be confused with candy bear, which y'all pronounce the same).

Exhibit-A:
Actual Snickers bar discovered
at the Walmart parking lot
in Calais, Maine.

This here candy bar was flat, like somebody done drove over it, but there weren't no holes in it, so I scooped it up and brought it home.  Later on, when I got me a hankerin' for some of that sweet, sweet candy, I done whipped it out and gnawed on it.  It was the sweetest road kill I ever done ate, I tell you what, and no rabies, woo-hoo!

And that was my story 'bout the Snickers bar.

When Last We Saw Our Hero...

As the waning days of summer shine their last rays, I find myself contemplating many things.  This has been an interesting year for me, on a personal level.  There have been many ups and downs, and I know things are going to keep rolling along this rollercoaster course for a good while to come.

So, want to know what I've been doing lately?  No?  Well, fine then.  I don't want to know what you've been doing, either.  No, don't tell me.  It'll only give me nightmares to hear about your amazing adventures, and personal exploits.  What?  Stop it!  Oh, no!  Hideous imagery burning into my brain.  Blood shooting out of my eyes.  Ahhhhh!

 But, seriously, life has been dragging along at its own hectic pace, and I'd like you all to know that I'm still alive, if not wealthy.  Work is tiring, but it's there, and within the next few weeks I'll have a new baby daughter to occupy my time.  I'm not complaining; children are the future.  Offspring=power!  Soon, my genetic legion shall spread across the face of the Earth, conquering all they see, and finally, when I am installed as emperor of the solar system... oops, sorry.  Please disregard the last few sentences.  You didn't hear that from me.  There must have been a crossed cell-phone signal, or something.

By now, you must be questioning my sanity, and with good cause.  Though, it's all in good fun.  Besides, all writers have to be a little crazy.  Why else would we try to make a living in a market that's so crowded and devoid of profit for 99% of participants?  Yes, all writers are nutjobs (especially the rich, successful ones).  Remember, you heard it here first!

On that note, it's time for a commercial interlude.  Over the last few weeks, I've taken the time to release both Prisoner of Time and The Rogue Investigations on Amazon Kindle, so people can buy cheaper, digital versions of these books.  The Guns of Mars was released on Kindle by Pill Hill Press months ago.  If you have a Kindle, get all of these books asap.  Print versions are of course still available.  Don't be cheap like Howie Carr.  Buy my books today!

Now, back to our program...

As I said, my daughter's birth is imminent.  She could come at any day, though her estimated time of arrival is September 20th (Doctors like to throw out dates to make you think they know what they're talking about—zing!)  After long discussion and perilous negotiations, Jenna and I have decided to name her Kathryn Zoe Ingham.  Please note the spelling: K-A-T-H-R-Y-N.  It's not Catherine, Katherine, or Cathy (and it's not Moira, either, but that's another story).  Rest assured, she will spend half her life correcting people on the proper spelling of her first name, and the other half correcting people on the spelling of her last (at least, until she gets married, and even then...)  And to think, we're trying to NOT give our kids strange names!  Common ones are enough trouble as it is.

By now, you may wonder if I've been drinking, but no.  I am 100% sober (that's 99% more sober than your average congressman!).  It's important to make light of things now and again, because everything is so darn serious these days.  It's cheaper to write like a drunk than to actually imbibe poisonous beverages, so here I am, acting like a bad stand-up comedian.  Or is that stand-up Canadian?  Bah, same difference.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get back to work, which may or may not include killing ants, battling midget ninjas, and eating pie.  Have a bang-up week, Govnah!