Happy Turkey Day, Everybody!

There's plenty to go around.

Rish Tries To Mine His Manners

I know I said the last time would be the last time, and the time before that (Never again, is what you swore, the time before), but I ended up doing another narration for the Tales To Terrify podcast. Seth Williams, the editor, asked me to read another story, and as literally no other podcast wants me to do them anymore, I accepted, and even followed the inane directions I was criticized for ignoring the last two times.

But don't worry, I doubt they'll ask me to do it again.

This time, the story was "What's Mine Is Yours, What's Yours Is Mined" by L.T. Williams. It's a dreamlike--almost nonsensical--short tale of the owner of an English coal mine who discovers the world and people around him changing into some kind of bleak industrial hellscape. It's the kind of morality play you used to see on "The Twilight Zone," even though I don't quite understand it. But that's okay--I'm not an audiobook narrator, but I do play one on TV.

Check it out HERE.

Podcast That Dares 64: Smee

Rish presents A.M. Burrage's 1931 short horror story "Smee." A young man tells of a disturbing experience that happened to him while playing a game similar to Hide & Seek.

As always, you can download the file by Right-Clicking HERE.

And of course, you should support my Patreon by clicking HERE (they got an extended version of this episode).

Logo by Gino "Pee" Moretto.

Nine, Ten, Never Sleep Again

One of the tasks I don't tend to look forward to at the library is waking up sleeping patrons.*  Now, this has gotten much easier in the year since I first started (mostly because I now understand that while most of them are just sleeping, every once in a while . . . they ain't).

Tonight, there was an elderly man asleep in one of the chairs.  Sometimes it's hard to tell if they're sleeping or just looking at their phones/reading/meditating/praying, but this guy was clearly deep unconscious, just from the position of his body.  I approached him and said, "Hey there."  But he didn't stir.  I got closer.  " Sir, are you alright" I said louder, and there was no reaction.

Now, we're not supposed to touch people, so this time, I got very close and sort of shook the chair he was sitting in.  "Sir?" I said, "Are you--"  And he came awake.

Seeing my face looking down at him, you'd have thought I was the wolfman, a zombie, or worse, Mitch McConnell.**  He recoiled and actually exclaimed, "Ahh!" (which you don't hear all that often)

I apologized, saying I was just checking on him.

"You scared me," he mumbled, and put a hand over his heart.

"Sorry about that."  And I had no other option but to leave him alone.  As I walked back downstairs, I thought of how it would be to awaken to see me leering down at you.  It occurred to me that waking up to my face might well have killed the old bugger.

His inevitable nightmares tonight are preferable, though he may not consider them that way.

*It may sound like I'm complaining here--most of my job is quite pleasant, and I often feel useful--but I would rather mop up a spill (or worse) than wake up sleeping homeless people.

**I originally typed Willem DaFoe there.  But he doesn't deserve that.

Rish Outcast 314: The Factory of Fear

Happy Belated Halloween (I had intended to put out this one at the end of October, and I never hit Publish . . . sorry)!

Rish shares an experience from 2024 of attending The Fear Factory, an elaborate haunted house with his aunt and cousins. Spoiler: he makes it out alive.

Note: Since this was recorded a year ago, a lot of it is as new to me as it is to you. Funny that senility has an upside.

You can download the file by Right-Clicking HERE.

You can support me on Patreon by clicking HERE. 

Logo by Gino "Olfactory of Fear" Moretto.

Okay, Don't Have A Good One

In all the time--a year now--I've been working at the public library, I've probably told people to have a good night (or "a good one") a thousand times.  Every once in a while, they will ignore me, but usually, they will say, "You too" or "Thanks" or "The man in the moon has chickenpox."  It means nothing, but is a social nicety that nobody complains about.

Except one guy.

The other night, as people were leaving for the night, I told one particular dude to have a good night, and he was having none of it.  He stopped in his tracks and turned on me, like one of those vicious dogs behind a fence (at least I hope they're behind one).  

"Don't tell me that," he said, rather animatedly.  

"Sorry?"  

"Don't say that!" he shouted, which got the attention of every other patron about to leave the library (heck, even the girl at Circulation looked up from her phone for a moment).  I could tell that I was dealing with either an unstable person or a royal piece of crap.  "You don't tell somebody to have a good night!"

But he was standing there, waiting for a reply.

"What should I say?" I asked.

He took a step toward me (what law enforcement would refer to as a lunge) and said, "You say goodbye!"

It was absurd enough I nearly laughed, but the man was disturbed enough already.  "Goodbye," I said.

"Thank you!" he half-yelled, then turned and left the library.

And that's it.  I didn't later learn that he'd shot up a yogurt shop or a pickleball court (one just opened here in town, so that would be extra unfortunate) or anything.  It was just a weird thing that happened to me.  Now that I've shared it with you, go ahead and have a nice day.

Poster Boy

(I struggled--as I often do--for a clever pun or play on words for the title of this post . . . but there's only so much blood you can get from a turnip)

So, Drew Struzan died recently (October 13th), and it was nice to see so many filmmakers and film fans mark his passing.  After all, he was the greatest artist of movie posters to ever live, which is saying something, considering movies are a hundred and thirty years old.  

I guess I first noticed Struzan's work when I first became a Star Wars fan, back in 1983, though most of the JEDI posters were done by other artists.  He did the INDY 2 posters the next year, though, and BACK TO THE FUTURE in '85.  His work was all over the Eighties, from GOONIES to BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA, from BLADE RUNNER to POLICE ACADEMY 1-5.  If you wanted your movie to look exciting or magical or deeply appealing or just cinematic, you'd hire Drew to do the art.*

Took me an hour to make this collage--no lie.

I was lucky enough to meet the man one time, back in April of '99.  I had him sign my INDY 3 poster, and since it was about to come out, the PHANTOM MENACE one as well.  Back in those days, these folks would sign what you had for free, which is pretty much a thing of the past.

Believe it or not, this was NOT that long ago.

Struzan was sick for a long time.  One of his friends told me, gee, five years ago now, that he was too ill to do the poster for INDIANA JONES 5, and as far as I could see, INDY 4 was his last one.  He was seventy-eight, and should I live to be that old, I doubt I'll ever see somebody else as talented, or with the gift to capture the soul of the movies, as Drew.

*An anecdote I've never shared with anyone is first seeing the Struzan HARRY POTTER & THE SORCERER'S STONE poster at the AMC theater in LA, and marveling to my friend, "Huh.  That little girl with the unpronounceable first name . . . no way could she be that beautiful.  Well, we'll see when the movie comes out."

Abbie & Rish Read Robin Hobb 1

So, Abigail Hilton and I have started reading "Assassin's Apprentice" by Robin Hobb, and this is the podcast the two of us recorded when we reached the midway point in the book (approximately page 200 of 400, at least according to the library's copy--so, spoilers to that point, plus maybe two more). 

If you're interested in this first book in the Farseer Trilogy, what bit made each of us supremely angry, or listening to Abbie and me try not to interrupt each other, I think you'll get a kick out of it. It's for supporters of my Patreon, so check it out HERE (or HERE).

At least you'll enjoy the moment when she brings up (The Great) Brandon Sanderson and all he's done for authors and Kickstarter. Grrrr.

The Problem With Uranus

I was recently assigned a short story to read for a podcast, and it's not only got a mission to Uranus in it, but it's got Uranus in the title.

And I don't know if you're aware of this, but the name of that planet, at least in American, sounds somewhat like . . . well, I'll explain when you're older.

It's been a problem since before I was born, and will probably be a problem long after I'm dead, as long as there are dumbasses out there.  But it is hard to deliver in a serious way in a Science Fiction story, regardless of the tone of that story.

So, I tried pronouncing it the other way, I tried substituting the planet Neptune, and I tried to just be a grown up and read the story as though I weren't mentally ten years old.  But still, that word appears again and again, and . . . and nothing, I guess.  I suppose I just needed somebody to talk to about it.

Gotta say, that play on words positively wrecked 'em.

Exercise In Futility

At the beginning of the year, I set the goal of exercising 250 days in 2025.  October just ended, and here's my chart for the year-in-progress:

And lookie there, I have already reached my goal, with two months remaining.  Now I know what Big Anklevich much feel like when he does that insane writing spree thing he does so well.  

And I guess I can coast for the rest of the year.  Just like I planned.

Rish Outcast 313: In Security 6

Rish talks a little more about working at the library. In this volume, we get:

1) When a bomb threat calls
2) An exchange of puzzles
3) Sleeping beauty and the runaway toddler
4) The new librarian's new "friend"

Bonus . . . 5) Oh, no.

If you wish to download the episode, Right-Click HERE.

If you wish to support me on Patreon, click HERE.

Logo by Gino "Gin Security" Moretto.

Crappy Halloween

So, I got an episode of the Outcast all ready to go for Halloween, uploading it and completing the blog post . . . only to realize days later than I never posted it.  So, that ain't great.

I ended up working on Halloween night, and it was fine (the library was probably the most dead I have ever seen it--is that irony?), but at one point, I looked at the monitors and I saw someone standing in the corner, their back to me, BLAIR WITCH-style.

I zoomed in, and the person didn't move, just standing there in the corner, like the end of that terrible, terrible film.  "What the fudge?" I might have said aloud.

I kept watching, hoping to understand what I was seeing.  And eventually, I did.  Turns out, the woman was using the outlet there to charge her phone, but was also looking at it.  

What fun.

Marshal & I Face A Terror From Beyond Space

Once again, Marshal Latham and I have reviewed an old movie, this one 1958's IT! THE TERROR FROM BEYOND SPACE on the Outfield Excursions show over at Journey Into...

This was not a great movie, but it did influence Ridley Scott's ALIEN (along with Mario Bava's PLANET OF THE VAMPIRES), and tells the story of the first manned expedition to Mars, which encounters a deadly alien life form, which naturally stows away on the rescue ship.

Check out our review HERE.

Not To Fifty!

Early this summer, I got it into my sick head that I would record Fake Sean Connery either quoting a dozen or so movies, or quoting a dozen or so pop songs, and post them every so often on his Instagram page . . . to see if people had a good time trying to identify them. I picked half a dozen songs on the first day and recorded them up at the cabin, and did another half dozen the next week. And another five or so a week later.  I was having a good time.

By the time I started posting them, I had double the amount I had intended to do. Before long, I had recorded fifty of them, some easy and some hard. And I thought it would be interesting to count how many songs I had done from each decade (assuming the Eighties would rule . . . since, after all, the Eighties rule). Maybe that will be interesting to you as well.

1920s - 1
1940s - 1
1950s - 1
1960s - 4
1970s - 6
1980s - 19
1990s - 8
2000s - 3
2010s - 2
2020s - 5

To my surprise, I learned that Girl, You'll Be A Woman Soon was released in the Sixties, not the Seventies.

To my further surprise, nobody out there gives a mechanic's lugwrench about my little endeavor. But I enjoyed it very much--so much so that I think I'll continue to at least one hundred, regardless of the apathy of any potential Instagram viewers/followers. Sometimes, you create art (or "art," in my case) for an audience of one.

I'll see you at the century mark.

Abbie and I Become Assassin's Apprentices

Have you ever read The Farseer Trilogy by Robin Hobb?  I haven't, but a fan of Abigail Hilton's books recently mentioned that her favorite books were those by Abbie and "The Elderlings" series by Hobb.  Abbie forwarded me the comment (since the listener said she was a fan of my narrations of the books), and I asked her if she thought I'd like the Hobb books.

Abbie said she thought I would, and wondered if I'd want to do a podcast where we read the books and talk about them.*  So, I went out and got "The Assassin's Apprentice," which is the first book in the series, and I started reading just as soon as I finished the previous book I was enjoying.**

If you too would like to read the book, then, hey, we could be brothers.  Or sisters.  Or heroes.  And if you want, you can hear the first episode of our joint podcast HERE (Abbie's page) or HERE (my page), where Abbie and I exchange questions and answers in a way that may be entertaining to you (but I make no guarantees).

Note: Abbie is very smart (or very educated, or both), and that can be intimidating. But I enjoy hearing about her breadth of experience or knowledge, and don't feel insulted if she has to mansplain something to me. I imagine we'll get tons of that as we go on with the books, especially since she has read them (the first three, anyway) before and I haven't. Of course, Abbie doesn't know that Alex McCrindle played General Dodonna in STAR WARS, so, well, you know.

*I initially misrememebered ME being the one who suggested we podcast about it, but I was wrong.  As I was about spelling "misremembered."

**That one was Thomas Hardy's 1874 novel "Far From The Madding Crowd," which I honestly only read because they made a movie of it, an annoying habit I have.

Podcast That Dares 63: The Slizzers

Rish presents Jerome Bixby's 1953 tale, "The Slizzers." When his buddy lets his guard down at their usual poker game, Jerry discovers the man is not what he appears to be.

Guest-starring Big Anklevich as Fred!

Note: Episode 62 was for Patreon supporters only.  So there.

If you'd like to download the episode, Right-Click HERE.

Come support me on Patreon HERE.

Logo by Gino "The Scissors" Moretto.

Marshal and Rish Stop By The AIRPORT

Though it seems like a long time ago, Marshal sent me a DVD with the 1970 disaster movie AIRPORT on it. He figured we needed more Disaster movies under our belts, and this particular film was the daddy of a bunch of them.

There are a couple of tropes we recognize in that Disaster subgenre, and you can find them here . . . along with the part that people most remember George Kennedy for.  Check out our review/conversation HERE.

Object Of Unknown Origin

This is another post from a while back that I abandoned once nothing came of it, but as I was deleting the photo, I decided to jot it down anyway.  For you. 

Look, Damien, it's all for you!

Since I am always late for work, I sometimes leave books to return or what I'm going to eat for lunch in my car, and have to go down to the underground lot at some point to retrieve them. Since I am 92% unsupervised (and that number is rounded down), no one cares that I do this, and one of the many times I went down, I saw an object sitting against one of the garbage cans in the lot.

But I didn't know what it could be.

It was a black cylinder about eight inches tall and five wide, with a white cover or lid, and a curious blue button on the top. It looked like nothing I had ever seen before, except maybe a grenade in a Science Fiction movie (not totally dissimilar to the charges Han and Leia used to blow up the shield generator on Endor's moon).

People lose things every single day at the public library, and people toss their garbage on the ground even oftener, but this might have been either . . . or it might have been something else.

So, I took the above photo of it, and I sent it to my boss with the message, "Any idea what this is?"

Almost immediately, he texted back, "Tent lamp maybe?"

"Ah," I thought aloud, and went back to my desk.

But a minute later, I got a call from my boss (he's Head of Security), asking where I'd seen it and if I had left it there. I told him I assumed somebody lost it, so I left it, but I could take it to Lost & Found, if he wanted me to.

"It's not that," he said. "I'm just worried that somebody's going to see it and call the police."

"But you told me it was a tent l--"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure. Did you pick it up?"

"No," I said, not adding that I was a bit afraid to do so, just in case it was some kind of explosive (we had gotten a bomb threat around this time when I wasn't there, and I'm typing this the day after my nephew's high school [and the one just north of it] got a bomb threat).

He said I'd better go down and get it, in case visitors to the library were freaked out by it.*

Once I'd picked it up and examined the object, I realized that it was a harmless portable lantern, and tonight, as I was typing this up, I discovered that there's a battery-operated lantern almost exactly like it right here in the family cabin (except the one here is even more bomb-like in its shape and coloring, sinisterly enough). 

Inevitably, by the time I get fired from this job too, I will have racked up several more experiences like this. Hopefully, at least a little wisdom will come along with it.

Rish

*That's not an entirely unlikely scenario--twice in the short time I've worked there, people have come up to me to report an item suspiciously left alone somewhere in the library, and I was told of an incident a couple of years back where the bomb squad was called in to dispose of a worrisome package, only to discover it was something utterly banal and inexplosive, but after it had been collected by a robot and pre-detonated in a safe container.

No, I Mean That Literally

You think your life is a dumpster fire?

Well, you and the public library have something in common.

The fire department visited my workplace today as a tossed cigarette started a surprisingly-large fire in the recycling dumpster on the north side of the library.  

While waiting for the firemen to arrive, my coworker Abe ran out and pulled the flaming representation of the Michael Bay Transformers movies away from the building, where it quickly melted the entire container into a bubbling, stinking puddle of charred filth (see also, THE REVENGE OF THE FALLEN).

It did create quite a smell, and the entry doors are propped open as we speak to air out the building (though I can't say if *opening* the doors when the fire was outside makes scientific sense to me).  I can't say that I participated in putting out the fire in any way, but I did take a picture, and made three or four lame jokes about dumpster fires.

Oh, add this one to the list.

Rish Outcast 312: Heads Up

Rish presents a very short story he wrote a number of years ago for a match-the-image contest, about a boy who gets a strange visit from his brother in the night.

Then Rish talks about floating Danny Glick and the last time he saw A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET (1984).

Download the file directly by Right-Clicking HERE.

Support me on Patreon HERE!

Logo by Gino "Foreheads Up" Moretto.

My Voice On "The Wax Shadow" on HorrorAddicts

A lot of the stories Emerian Rich writes for her podcast* have a female main character and female supporting characters. Sometimes, there's a dude who grabs one of the women's butts on the subway or tells her he's gonna kill her daughter if she doesn't give up the briefcase . . . and in those cases, she lately calls me to voice those guys. Everybody else, she voices herself.

But with this new story, "Wax Shadow," it's almost completely the opposite. This tells the tale of Josh Anton, up and coming star of action movies, who is gifted with a wax replica of himself, one that looks remarkably like him. But when Josh spreads himself too thin, the wax version decides to take his place for a little while, to help him get back on his feet.

I voice a whole mess of characters in this one, from Josh and his doppelganger, to his brother, to a talk show host, to a deliveryman, to an Action star from the past that lives down the block (Emerian did change the gender of Josh's assistant to a woman, or it would've been even more).

I tried to make Josh and his brother and his artificial twin sound similar, but slightly different to one another, and that turned out to be a real challenge (sometimes Josh sounds a bit KeanuReevesish, and that wasn't entirely my intention). I'm not sure if it's even apparent in the finished product, but I did try.**

If you've got the time, check it out HERE.

*It's more likely she writes them elsewhere and puts them up on her podcast, since she also publishes collections of them . . . like I oughtta do more of.

**Usually, I can alter the pitch or the accent or the age of the character so they sound distinct, but this one gave me way less wiggle room. By the way, when you were a child, did you have a Wiggle Room? I was always jealous of my friend Steven's Wiggle Room. It seemed so wondrous and freeing and fun. Until they found the bones, that was.

I Don't Know Where He Gets It

My nephew Kayden asked me what time I went to work on Monday, and if I could help him with his English project before I left.  I asked him what the assignment was, and he told me he had to write a narrative story in the first-person that was at least 750 words and had to have a resolution.

He thought maybe he'd write about a court case with lawyers and a judge, and I asked him, "Do you know anything about courtrooms?  Like, do you watch any shows about that sort of th--"

"No," he said, "you're right, that's a stupid idea."

I told him it wasn't stupid, but that he should probably write about something familiar, like school, or golf, or family, or fishing, or buxom young women that like to wear white t-shirts and suspenders in the rain.

He said, "Okay, sure."  

I said, "Alright, what do you want it to be about?"

He didn't know.  I strongly suspect that's why he wanted my help with it.*

So, I kicked several potential ideas at him, of things I knew he was familiar with, that wouldn't be too difficult to riff on (I may have tossed out that old chestnut "Write what you know"), and he picked a fishing trip with him and his friend and his little brother.  It starts to rain on them, and his little brother goes back to get ponchos and/or umbrellas, so he has the keys, and they're lately locked out of the car because of that.

I gave him a couple of notes, feeding him a set-up that could pay off at the very end of the tale, but mostly letting him write the story. And I was surprised by just how hard that was for him, just how bad he was at it, and how not enjoyable this task was to him. It was supposed to be at least 750 words, and at the two or three hundred word point, he asked if it was okay to stop. We could resume work tomorrow, the day before it was due. But I told him we should push on through to the end, and tomorrow, we could do revisions.

The story, as I said, was about him and his friend and his younger brother going fishing, and they get lost in the woods, and then a bunch of wolves chase them ("bunch" is the technical term for a pack of wolves). And to my surprise, he chose to end the story with the wolves eating his little brother.**

It was a surprise because it's not something a lot of kids--a lot of normal kids, anyway--would have gone for. It instead seemed like something I would have gone for at his age. And a lot younger, if we're being honest. So, was that my influence on him? Was that him writing something he thought would please me? Or is it possible that this sort of twisted morbidity runs in the family?

To my surprise, he wanted it to end with his little brother getting eaten, instead of sacrificing his friend's life, or having all three boys escape.  "Are you going to get in trouble?" I asked, "having it end that way?"

"I can write what I want," he said.  "The teacher said it could be about anything, as long as it was long enough."

Well, it was long enough.  I have to admit that I made matters worse, though, by saying, "How about nobody believes you about the wolves, but later, a farmer shoots one, and when he cuts it open, they find your car keys inside it?"  He liked that idea.

I did a word count when we reached the end, and we were at 864 words, which exceeded the assignment. I saved the file (for once) and told him, tomorrow, we can read it aloud and make whatever fixes it needs, then he could turn it in.

But that didn't happen. The next day, he told me he didn't want to work on it anymore, and that it was only supposed to be a first draft anyway. So, I emailed it to him and he handed it in. And he got 100%, which felt pretty good.***

The next assignment was to do a polish on the story, to fix whatever notes the teacher had given, by Kayden said he wasn't going to bother, as he'd already gotten 100%. Now, I don't know if that means that there were no mistakes (there surely were), or that it couldn't be improved (it surely could be), but if the teacher didn't find anything wrong with it, the boy wasn't willing to put in any more work. So I guess that's where he's not a chip off the old block (do uncles have blocks?). At least not totally.

RBO

*I get that this sort of activity is painful drudgery to some people, but man, it's the sort of assignment I ate up in elementary school, junior high, high school, and college.  In fact, I even thought it was fun walking him through it, though it was a challenge not to try to take over the narrative, or correct him when he said, "Me and Chris kept running as fast as we could" and such.

**Not just biting him, or killing him, or infecting him with werewolfism (the technical term for lycanthropy), but eating him.

***I had worried that the teacher would say, "Uh, no. You need to rewrite it so it has a more appropriate, positive ending." But who knows, maybe he thought it was refreshing.

A Free Lunch?

I came into work today, and saw an unmarked brown paper sack on one of the benches just outside the library (where people go to smoke).  I see abandoned items literally every single day* and often, they're clearly garbage that someone chose not to throw away, but other times, it's less clear.  If it's something valuable, we put them in a little safe in the back and put a note on them designating the date and who found the item.  If it's something less so, there's a big container/tub where items go for a week, then get transferred to a Week 2 tub, and after that . . . well, there's a farm upstate where the items are free to roam and play.  And if it's food-related or simply trash, that's where I toss them.

An hour or so after seeing the sack, I went out there to look in at it, and I saw a sandwich, a green apple, a mustard packet . . . and a couple of dollars under a napkin (actually, I put them under the napkin when I saw them so they weren't so obvious anymore).

I would normally have tossed the whole thing, but now I didn't dare.  But I also didn't dare leave the bag out there in the sun--I know how little money these homeless folks h--okay, I imagine how little money homeless folks have--and assume they would miss even two or three bucks, which makes the difference between a cheap meal . . . and nothing.  So, I grabbed the bag and took it to my desk, then stuck a Post-It note on the cement bench where it had been telling the owner that I had it and he could pick it up from me.

It seems unlikely (at this time, anyway) that anyone will come claim it, but I wanted to give him/her a chance.  And this is all totally unnoteworthy, I realize.

But just a moment ago, a young man--a student-type--was walking down the inside hall, looked over to where my note was, then promptly did a U-turn and headed outside.  Ah ha, I thought, here's our culprit!  (and by that, I don't mean anything negative about the guy, just a fun word to use in a blog post . . . stop getting so upset about words, okay?)  So I watched the kid leave the building and go out to the atrium, where he read my note . . . then promptly took out his phone to take a picture of it.

What the hey?  I'm currently racking my brain to figure out why someone would take a picture of my note--is it funny?**  Does it have some kind of double-meaning behind it?  Is it an in-joke or is he taking it that way?  Does he think it's a clue to something?

I can't say, but then, I can never really say, unless I ask.

Well, a few hours have passed, and nobody came to claim it.  I figured I'd toss the food, but then I thought I'd go ahead and eat the apple.  But it turned out to stink of cigarettes, so I did toss it.  Wow, another truly awful blog post.  Sorry.

*This is actually not technically true, as I started keeping track in August, and there was a single Wednesday where I didn't find a wallet, keys, library card, water bottle, sketchbook, headphones, iPad, or one of those vaping mechanisms.  A single day.

**Probably, as I'm a pretty funny guy.  You should see me in swimtrunks.

Under The Big Top World

Last year, Marshal Latham did a very bad thing.  But what I did might have been even worse.

Over at the Journey Into... Podcast, he created a story contest once again inspired by the music of Journey.  This time, though, there was a visual aspect to it all, as he fed the lyrics of each song into an image generating program.  The song I was assigned was Faithfully, the one about a musician on the road, missing his lady love, and most certainly not mutant related.

But this was the image it generated for me:

Circus life, anyone?

So, I wrote a story ("Faithfully") about a man who used to travel around, judging records for the Guinness Book, who has lost his sense of wonder.  And then he goes to a mystifying backwoods circus, and sees Marcelo, the dog-boy.

It's another of those tales that I wrote in a fever, with very little memory of, which is always nice for me to revisit.  It ended up a quite long story, but is it a good one?  Well, you can find out for yourself by listening to this week's Journey Into... podcast episode, where my tale is narrated by the talented (and muscular) Wilson Fowlie.  Click HERE and send all your love along the wire.

Podcast That Dares 61: Goodnight, Mr. James

Rish presents Clifford D. Simak's 1951 Sci-Fi tale "Goodnight, Mr. James," where an unstoppable alien creature escapes captivity and only one man (or technically, two) can stop it.

It was also the basis for a 1964 episode of "The Outer Limits" called "The Duplicate Man," which only the Patreon version explores.

Warning: Distractingly noisy audio.

If you'd like to download the episode, Right-Click HERE.

Come support me on Patreon HERE.

Logo by Gino "G'Day, Mr. James" Moretto.

Marshal & I Find Monsters Among The White Rocks

Over at the Outfield Excursions podcast, Marshal Latham and I review the 1959 low-budget horror film, THE MONSTER OF PIEDRAS BLANCAS, no doubt one of your favorites.  We have so little to say about it, though, that I change lanes to talk about a little-seen John Cusack adventure, HOT PURSUIT.

Check it out HERE.

Rish Outcast 311: In Security 5

This is the big one folks--the most significant thing I've experienced since coming to work as a security guard*--and hopefully, I tell it well.

So, in this episode, you'll hear:
1. The Patron That Was M-wording
2. The Sleeper Has Not Awakened
3. Rish Says Inappropriate Things About Minecraft Club

As always, you can download the file by Right-Clicking HERE.

And of course, you can support my Patreon by clicking HERE.

Logo by Gino "In Maturity" Moretto.

*If you don't count the time the poor man befouled his britches because the bathroom door was locked.

If I Was A Ghost, Would I Tell You?

I meant to blog about this months ago, but it seemed so unimportant.  But here we are, at the end of summer . . . and it's even more unimportant.  But I'm going to tell you about it because the library just put up its first Halloween event notice, and wouldn't you know, it has three ghosts on it.

So, because of weirdness, I always go running at night, and I seldom encounter other runners or dogwalkers or crossing guards, etcetera.  But one evening, pretty close to midnight, I was doing my usual spin around the block, when I saw a dark figure at the end of the street.  They weren't jogging or walking, they were standing still as a tree, only the illumination of a nearby streetlight pointing them out to me.  I kept jogging in that direction, but they didn't acknowledge that I was there . . . or even that they were alive.

My pace slowed, which you'd probably think was impossible.  I was only a few yards away now, and the person--it was definitely a person--had not acknowledged me.

"Hey," I said, but the figure didn't move.  I was still moving, though, and as I got closer, I could see that, while it was a person, they appeared to have no face.

I got nearer and nearer, and I have to admit that my pace slowed considerably* and I began to wonder just what I was encountering.

Finally, just as I was passing by, I said, "Are you a ghost?"

At that, the figure moved.  He pulled back his hoodie so that he could lift off one of his headphones, and said, "What did you say?"

Nope, it was just a dude, who had been standing in silence, presumably listening to Chantal Kreviazuk or Cannibal Corpse.**  "Nevermind, sorry," I said and began to jog again, distancing myself from the stranger in the way we always do.

About a half a block away, I turned my head to look back, just in case.  The figure was gone.

No, that's not true.  He had gone back to listening to his Lil Nas X or Rebecca Black.  And I envy him that.

*As I was typing this, the lights in the Attic here at the library began to flicker, and I saw a woman standing alone in the room, looking around as it alternated between dark and light.  Turns out, they're having yoga classes in there tonight and another woman was testing out the lights, but for just a moment...

**Both are equally likely.

Rish Outcast 310: Judge Not

It's time for another sketch, guest-starring Bigglesby Anklevich! This one's called "Judge Not" and deals with a boss very pleased his employee is not the judgmental type.

If you want to download the episode, Right-Click HERE.

If you want to support me on Patreon, click HERE.

Logo by Gino "Fudge Not" Moretto.

Know Why I Pulled You Over?

Twice in a week, I have been pulled over by policemen.  The last time was in March 2020, when the pandemic was just kicking off.  On Thursday evening, I was driving home from Jeff's house (we had watched a Spanish art horror film from the Seventies and . . . well, that pretty much says it all), when a police car pulled up behind me and flashed his lights.  Often, when that happens, I assume they're after me, but they're really after someone else (conversely, when I'd speed and a cop flashed his lights, I often hoped they were after someone else, but alas) so I tried to pull over quickly, but safely.

I parked and took off my seat belt so I could get my wallet out, then quickly put the seat belt back on, worried that he'd think I was driving without it.**

I put down my driver's side window.  The cop--super-young, possibly aspiring to be a policeman when he grows up--came up to my passenger window and knocked, startling me a little.

"Do you know why I pulled you over?" he asked, and it was a good question, as I was sure I hadn't been speeding.*  

I could think of nothing snarky, so I said, "No, sir."  

He said, "I can't read your license plate."  

I thought that was odd, so I asked, "Is it gone?  Did somebody take my licens--"  

He interrupted, "No, it's still there.  License and proof of insurance please."

Well, I leaned over and opened the glove compartment, and grabbed the registration paper, but he said, "That's your registration, I need your insurance form."  Well, I have insurance, but as I had an accident a month or two back, I must have left it in the house when I was dealing with that.

I gave him my license and he then said, "By the way, I saw you putting on your seat belt just now." 

Now maybe I was impolite about it (I tried not to be), but I insisted I had had my belt on, but took it off for my wallet then put it back for the exact purpose of not being accused of not having it on.  "Uh huh," said the man, like I do when I hear people claim Trump's going to drain the swamp (or has already).

Maybe I overstated my case, because I promised him I had had it on, and have to admit that I wasn't pleased that he didn't believe me.

Anyway, he explained to me that there's a reflective material on license plates, and mine has faded to the point of not being able to read the number, then he went back to write it up.

I took advantage of the lull to get on my phone and look up my insurance information for when he came back.  When he did, I tried to show him, but he said, "It needed to be in a timely manner, sir," which sounded kind of like he thought I was a douche.

"Sorry," I said.

He added, "Oh, and you really shouldn't reach over the way you did when you get pulled over."

"Well, I was reaching for my proof of . . . never mind."  As soon as I said it, I knew it sounded lame.

"We don't know what you're reaching for, so be aware," he said.

"Sure, sure," I said, trying to sound like one of the good guys here.

Regardless, he told me I needed to go to the DMV and order a new license plate, one that was readable, and that he'd just let me go with a warning, on the assurance that I'd take care of it.

Honestly, I was just relieved about the insurance thing, so I thanked him and went home.

Hey Rish, you may be asking, why are you wasting my time with this?

To which I say, Is it a waste of time?   You don't like this blog post?

No, I'm just asking, why would you blog about something like this when there seems to be no good reason for it?

To which I say, Well, now I feel bad.   Do you really think it's a w-- 

No, no, I didn't mean waste of time.  I just meant you seldom write about things that happen to you anymore, and yet you spent the time to write this one up.

I did.  Yeah.

But this one doesn't seem to have a f***ing point.

Huh.

So, here's my point, basically.  That night, as soon as I got home, I printed out my proof of insurance, and made one for the glove box and one for my wallet.  Just in case.

And on Sunday, I took out the 8.5 metric tonnes of crap from my trunk until I found the other license place (the one that goes on the front) and I switched it with the old one, since it was still brand new (I also stuck the registration sticker on it, hoping it would stay on at least until next year's stickers came).

I went to the cabin for the day and came home this morning, and as I was emerging from the canyon, I passed a sheriff's department vehicle on the side of the road.  I was going too fast, as was the truck that was riding my hind end, presumably trying to figure out what my bumper sticker was supposed to represent.***

"Do you know why I pulled you over?" this cop asked me.  Well, I was pretty sure it was because I was speeding, but he'd also pulled over the pickup truck too, which I'd never seen before.  It may have been that he was pulling everyone over that came through the canyon, because they might not be aware of the zombie apocalypse going on in the cities.

Maybe they ask the question that way so that people will say, "I dunno, is it because of the baggies of heroin under the spare in the trunk?" or "Because you finally found out what I did at the synagogue?"

Anyway, in this case, he said, "Clocked you and the other guy doing 46 in a 35."

Ah.  Anyway, I got out my license and said, "Can I grab you my proof of insurance?"

And the cop said, "I don't need it.  If I want to, I can check to see if you have insurance."

Ah again.

Anyway, he checked to see if I had any outstanding warrants, then let both of us speeders go.

And that's it for my scintillating tale . . . unless I get pulled over a third time this week.  I'll let you know why he pulled me over.

*I wouldn't have said my car was capable of speeding until today, but that's putting the patrolman before the horse.

**My car, and I assume yours as well, has an ear-splitting beeping that goes off if you don't put your seatbelt on, or if you've got a box sitting on the passenger seat until you're about to lose your mind and you pull over, get out, and put a seatbelt over the box.

***It's the second Death Star.  You know, the one that was still under construction.