“…what is important is what we do inside the prisons where we find ourselves. (I feel the vomit rising in my throat at I type such odiously cheap and optimistic sentiments.) …”
“…what is important is what we do inside the prisons where we find ourselves. (I feel the vomit rising in my throat at I type such odiously cheap and optimistic sentiments.) …”
“…I resumed my dream job which was taking apart greasy filthy machinery in order to salvage their screws, which is only slightly more demeaning than the job I do during my waking life…”
House, a 1977 Japanese horror-fantasy-comedy came to the midnight movies in town and I’m still trying to figure out if I just dreamed the whole thing. Continue reading
I’ve often wondered if my 1990 Electra Glide will take me to the grave but didn’t think it might be the actual vessel used. Shows how little imagination I sometimes have.
This youngun’ – shot dead while young enough to leave a beautiful corpse – was allegedly embalmed and mounted on his favorite motorcycle to lie in state. Even if this is a hoax, it’s a pretty fun one, eh?
My psyche wasn’t crafted for conventions – too many actual humans, far too close and in the case of writer’s conventions, humans who are mostly ape-shit crazy.
“…They were wiggling their long alien fingers at me like they were trying to be spooky or something..”
“… there were already things growing there…”
Can we call the whole zombie craze, ah, “dead” so to speak, now that eight year old kids are asking that their birthday cakes be made in the shape of an undead corpse? Continue reading
“…A death threat had been made on the Empress’ life and these three gentlemen had gone grave ends to protect her…”

The violence of everyday office life – punched paper, sheets pierced with staples, envelopes ripped open – is lovingly expressed by this set of stationery designed for 13th Street (a German horror and crime channel.) Continue reading
“…my back started getting numb. My whole right side from my shoulder on down starting tingling and then going dead…”
“…And there was the smell, horrible stench of blood and manure, the smell of a slaughterhouse…”

Thrill to the weirdness of these illustrated playing cards. Continue reading