I Saw Him Standing There

I have a bank of cameras in front of me most of the time at work--even now, when I'm typing this, there are twenty-five screens going on the monitor to my left--and usually, if I see quick movement (a car going too fast, someone running in or out of the building, the length of a smile from Emily the Librarian), it will draw my eye.  This case was the opposite, though.

I glanced at the downstairs hallway and saw someone in black standing right in front of the doors.  I paid it no mind, but the next time I glanced at it, there he still was.  Often, that means the connection from the camera feed has been broken and I need to reconnect it.  

But that wasn't the situation here.  I hit Refresh, and the image didn't change.  The guy was just standing there, not moving.  For, like, a full minute.  Was he looking at his phone?  Did he have  a book he was reading?  Was he another pesky ghost?*  Maybe he was soiling himself--which yeah, sometimes happens.

Regardless of the answer, the second I caught a screengrab of the dude in the downstairs hall, he started moving again.  As if he knew.

Once again, this was not really worth blogging about, but I got the image, and rather than making it go to waste, I figured . . .  See, now you've got me second-guessing myself.  Thanks a lot.

*My last shift, there was a manager who was staying overnight, but who thought she heard a man shouting in the building (I'm pretty sure I know who it was--maybe I'll do a recording about it, if I remember to), so I went through both floors of the library, watching and listening.  When I explained that there was nobody, she told me to go on home.  I said, "Are you sure?  You gonna be alright here by yourself?" and she immediately said, "You mean with the ghosts?  I don't know that I believe those stories."  That wasn't what I had been referring to--I would think that a woman alone would be more afraid of running into a man in the dark than a ghost . . . or a bear, if you get my reference.

The Way Of Pain(Quil)

I didn't quite remember the quote from FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING, to start out this little post (I knew it was something like, "So, you have chosen the way of pain," when it was actually, "I gave you the chance of aiding me willingly, but you have elected the way of pain"), but every once in a while, I see or hear something that amuses me and want to do a post about it.*

A few months ago, I was walking through the Health & Beauty section of Walmart when I saw a display that had new, fun flavors of NyQuil, the medicine you take to make you sleep when you're sick.**  And one of them struck me as extremely funny--instead of just NyQuil and DayQuil, there was a new red bottle marked PainQuil.

It also comes in purple, for the sleepy kind.

Now, I fully imagine you don't find the name "PainQuil" to be funny (if you did, we'd be closer than we are by quite a bit).  But I find it inexplicably amusing.  PainQuil, a brand name that is uncomfortably close to the word "painful."  Or maybe it's not, maybe it's just me.

Hey, I can't explain why I laughed when I saw it, and brought it up nigh unto incessantly when my cousin and I would go to Walmart.

And then, one day, the PainQuil was gone from the display, never to be brought up again . . . and I regretted never having tried it.  I've never tried a lot of things.***

But hey, the other day, I was walking through the department, minding my business (mankind is my business, the common welfare is my business.  Charity, mercy, forbearance, benevolence, all are my business), when I passed by the Procter & Gamble-sponsored display . . . and it was back.

A whole rack of PainQuil, in all its red-bottled glory.  Oh happy day!

Did I buy any?  What do you think?

No.  No, I didn't.

And then, around the time I thought of making this blogpost, I took my mother to Walmart for grocery shopping and I said, "Ma, if we see a PainQuil display, will you take a picture of me holding a bottle of it?"  She said she would, but assured me that it wouldn't be the least bit funny . . . and I was disappointed to discover that the display had already been taken down.  Or maybe they had just sold so many bottles of delicious pain-sapping elixir (it's ten percent alcohol, by the way!) that they had to replace it with Q-Tips or rubbing alcohol or adult diapers.

But then, last night, my sister complained that the lightbulbs in her refrigerator went out, so I volunteered to get her replacements, and in the Walmart in her town . . . they had PainQuil--it turns out it comes in Cherry flavor and also Honey.  So, I got my picture.

Was I right?  Or was it my mother as usual?

*See also "Don't follow me, creepy creeper."

**As a child, the ad went, "The nighttime coughing, aching, stuffy head, fever, so you can rest medicine."

***A buddy of mine in Los Angeles had a child and handed out cigars to everybody at work.  I had never smoked, but I told myself, "Well, if I ever do, at least I'll have this fancy cigar at my disposal."  But alas, when a certain hygiene product in my apartment complex started breaking into my place when I was gone (douche--I was calling him a douche there), besides my DVDs, X-box, self-inflating love doll, and coin collection (also in a ceramic container in the shape of a love doll), one of the things he stole was that cigar Kevin had given me.  Sigh.

Rish Outcast 328: My Friend of Misery 2

In the second section of "My Friend of Misery," little brother Brent has a new friend, and Brielle Montrose is starting to suspect it's not a great idea to spend time with the boogeyman.

Afterward, Rish talks about who Brielle is, killing off parents in a story like this, and a ton about child actors.

To download the episode, Right-Click HERE.

To support my daft efforts on Patreon, click HERE.

Logo by Gino "My Fiend of Misery" Moretto.

My Voice on "Fallen Angel" by Campfire Radio Theater

I have been known to complain when a particular podcast makes its (according to me) irritatingly unreasonable demands on me, but one podcast I've never been unhappy to work on is Campfire Radio Theater.  John Ballentine's audio dramas are, no exaggeration, the highest-quality productions I get to be a part of.*

When an online investigative journalist is approached about a mysterious object being kept under wraps by the government, she is surprised to find something truly otherworldly, not to mention dangerous.  For her.

I voice General Randall (Character Voice 2 in my list of three), but maybe one day, I'll get to be the lead in one of these again.  Vegas odds say no, though.

Check it out HERE.

*Perhaps that's why they never come to me anymore.  There may be folks out there who can do a dozen voices and accents, instead of my usual three.

Delusions of Grandeur 107: The New Galaxy's Edge

Hey, the Delusions of Grandeur show is back!

Rish makes Marshal watch the new promos for Disneyland, featuring fake-Han Solo and faux-Princess Leia, briefly calls Big Anklevich a baby, and tries to counter the many, many complaints about this new change.  Does anybody remember the Galactic Starcruiser?  Don't people have a way to tap into their inner child?  Wanna hear the story again about the first Spider-man movie?  And how is Anaheim, California like Berlin, Germany?

Check it out HERE!

Rish Outcast 327: My Friend of Misery 1

After a very long introduction, Rish presents the first section of his novella "My Friend of Misery." Teenager Brielle Montrose hears a voice coming from her little brother Brent's room in the middle of the night. And it sure ain't Bluey.

Afterward, Rish tells (in excruciating detail) the inspiration for this story, wonders about the genders of the characters, and proposes an assignment for a Writing class.

Download the file directly by Right-Clicking HERE.

Support me on Patreon HERE!

Logo by Gino "My Fiend" Moretto.

A Case of Silver Screen Syndrome

One of the podcast anthologies that asks me to do narrations for them--the last one being the unfortunately-located "The Cat That Went To Uranus"--is Cast of Wonders.

Recently, they had me narrate "Silver Screen Syndrome" by Mia Xuan.  The father of the narrator is suffering from an uncommon mental (or physical?) disorder wherein he only comes alive and alert when cameras are on him, to increasingly diminishing results.

It's one of those Science Fiction stories that is clearly about Something Else, but cloaked in the fantastic so as to make the subject more palatable to a 1950s audience.  Having to be around someone you love when their mind is deteriorating has got to be difficult, and I can imagine the writer of this story dealing with that by creating a malady that's distant from reality, yet just as baffling and/or frustrating as the real thing.

The story is extremely short, and yet it had half a dozen words in it I did not know how to pronounce, which is pretty rare nowadays.  I did the best I could with it*, but whether my performance is affective (or affecting) or not really depends on the listener.  Find out for yourself HERE.

*And that ain't nothin.  But still.

Creepy Creeper

A while ago, I observed an exchange that, while thoroughly uninteresting for the rest of you, I keep replaying in my head.*

A typical college girl--not a beauty, but not particularly unattractive--was walking into the library, right in front of my desk, and a typical dorky guy--scrawny and inexperienced due to fate and religious upbringing--followed her through the entrance (which is narrow enough our blind patron hits into it two or three times a week--at least), and I suppose he got too close to this paragon of womanhood, because she stopped, glared at him, and said, "Don't follow me, creepy creeper."

The guy gave out a stammering apology, which you would, and stood there while the girl continued on her way.

And that was it--the whole exchange.  I wrote it down in February (02-02-26--the day my buddy Marshal turned fifty), and I still think of it, enough to someday want to write a post about it.

"Creepy creeper."  That's what the girl said.  It's such an odd thing to say, almost musical in its rhythm.  But it's also insanely uncreative and trite, almost the sort of thing a pre-K child would say.  So, perhaps it's from a show, something like Spongebob or Paw Patrol or Velma.

But it was also so shamelessly rude**, and spoken loud enough that a middle-aged stranger could hear it, that I can't help but wonder if maybe the two of them were friends (or at least "friends") and this was a term of endearment.  And if I lived in a different community, I could even speculate that they are in a relationship, and this was part of a game they play, where she is the dominant one, always keeping her submissive pet in check, and had simply left the leash and ballgag home that night.

But what if it they didn't know each other, what if it was just what it appeared to be, a brief interaction between strangers, one of whom called the other a creepy creeper?

How does being accused of, um, inappropriate intimacy or stalking not make you feel bad, make you even more socially inhibited than before?  Is this guy going to go walking into an ocean or swimming pool, or worse, to the nearest guns and ammo store (which this town has three)?

I fully realize that it was probably not something I should have given a second thought to.  I know we're not supposed to care, but... I still did.  I still do.

Creepy.

*Almost as though it had been said to me.  You know how when you have an argument with someone and months--even years--later, you keep thinking, "Why didn't I say this at the time?"  The French even have a word for that--l’esprit de l’escalier--which, although I can't pronounce it, I can certainly understand it.

**The French have a word for that as well--Cuntish.

Rish Outcast 326: In Security 9 (The Thing Wrapped In The Blanket)

Rish tells a lengthy (interminable?) story about a patron with a wrapped-up object. "Incompetence is about to strike." Also, he encounters The Man In The Stall.

Note: I really ought to go back and retroactively retitle all these episodes with lurid titles like this one.

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

Come support me on Patreon HERE.

Logo by Gino "Out, Security!" Moretto.

When I See You Smile

 My buddy Jonathan Wilson*, months ago, asked me for a couple of my readings of public domain stories that he could run on his YouTube channel, and he's put another one up.

"The Dead Smile" by F. Marion Crawford tells of the evil Hugh Ockram, who, despite being dead, still manages to ruin the lives of his son Gabriel and the woman he loves.  

I really ought to see if I can find another story by him--I spent an hour on Sunday reading a story by a much higher-profile author that ended so badly I just deleted the whole thing--but in the meantime, check it out HERE.

*Is that okay to say?  Is he my buddy?  Would he lend me ten dollars in a pinch?

Marshal and I Fly Through AIRPORT 1975 (1974)

Last year, Marshal and I watched AIRPORT (was it ever called ALEX HALEY'S AIRPORT?), and thought it was pretty good.  Now we're on to the second film in the series, the oddly-named AIRPORT 1975.*  It stars Chuck Heston, Karen Black, Efram Zimbalist Jr., Gloria Swanson, Susan Clark, Large Marge, Linda Blair, Erik Estrada, and of course, George Kennedy.  But is it any good?

Well, this happens:

I really enjoy doing these episodes with Marshal, so go check this one out HERE.  But first, for the love of Pete, fasten your safety belt.

*It came out in 1974. WTH?

Rish Outcast 325: The Realest Song That Ever Was

Guest-starring Big Anklevich, Rish airs his daddy issues and simultaneously proclaims his love for 4 Non Blondes' only hit song.

They chat about nostalgia, Van Halen, the title of this podcast, and of course, they talk Pixar. And does Big know any Smashmouth lyrics?

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

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

Logo by Gino "The Realest Prong That Ever Was" Moretto.

"She was a crackhead, son, your dead mother."

I'm Not A Smart Man, But I Know What CHUD Is

On Saturday, at the third No Kings protest, there were many, many amusing signs.  My favorite of these was an image of Frodo Baggins grasping the One Ring, only with Donald Trump's face over his, along with the caption "I will take the ring to Sauron!"

But while I was hanging out there, alone this time (my niece couldn't make it), I noticed a trio of teenaged girls, all with signs . . . and one of those signs had a familiar word on it.

A lot of the people at the protest were waving their signs around, but some only pointed them at passing cars (a lot of which would honk or wave their own signs back), but this girl kept hers where it was firmly unreadable from me.  Finally, I approached her, and said, "Hey there, does your sign say Donald Trump is one of the CHUDs?"

She turned her sign to me.  I laughed.  You see, there was a horror movie that came out in 1984 where the ad campaign absolutely captivated me, to the point where my friends and I would talk about CHUDs (Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Dwellers, mutated creatures that lurked in New York's sewers and subway tunnels) all the livelong day.  I finally saw the movie about three years later, and was wildly disappointed by it, finding it thoroughly mediocre.*

"A Chud is a--" the girl began, but I needed no mansplaining.  

"Oh, I know what a CHUD is," I said, and snapped this--admittedly imperfect--photo.

I went back to my place (next to an elderly lady with the profound and lyrical sign "It doesn't have to happen to you for you to care about it"), and eventually the crowd dispersed.  But as I was walking to my car (I had had to park four blocks away, despite getting a fairly good parking spot), it occurred to me that I should not have interrupted her.

I didn't know, at least in this context, what a Chud was.

Why didn't I let her explain it to me?  Then I'd have a blog post worth its low-sodium health warning.

But apparently, the word "chud" now means a repulsive or ignorant right-wing loudmouth, a reactionary troll, ie a basement-dweller, rather than the city sewer version.

And don't get me wrong, the word is still funny (I have always had a weakness for words that start with Ch-, such as chalupa, chunder, chingaso, Chima, the main character in CRANK--Chev Chelios, and the Argentine insult chanta.**  I find them inexplicably hysterical), but I wasn't sure if it applied to Donald Trump or not.

But then, I remembered: Donald Trump is from New York City . . . home of the CHUDs.  

*In fact, for the past twenty years, whenever anybody asks me what movie I would remake, if I had the chance, the answer is always C.H.U.D..  Always.

**I recently got out my Lara & The Witch novel and noticed that when Lara attends Miller's Fork High School . . . her English teacher is named Mrs. Chutt.  Hilarious.

All You Need Is A Miracle

Well, I've finally put out another installment in The Sidekick Chronicles.  When it came time to put a link to the other stories in the series (on the last page of the e-book), I discovered that there's only four others . . . and one of those ("Sins of a Sidekick") is not currently available (to you or me).

Even so, "A Sidekick To Miracles" is finally available for your scrolling pleasure. 

In 2018, I watched an episode of Rod Serling's "Night Gallery" that I hated so much I decided to podcast about it.  I bitched about its pointlessness and how there was a glimmer of a really good story in there but they chose to--and then, in mid-sentence, I came up with this story, "A Sidekick To Miracles."  I never used the podcast, for obvious reasons.

Ben Parks encounters a traveling snake oil salesman who tells him he's actually selling hope, and becomes his sidekick, however briefly.  Ben is young enough and naive enough to believe in miracles.

This is the image I liked back in 2024 enough to save it to one day use.

Is the story good, who knows?  Did I wrench every drop of potential out of that idea, probably not.  But was it worth doing?  Sure.  And is it better than the 1971 television episode that inspired it?  Yep.

I tried and tried to find an image I was happy with--
and poor Big created four or five of these for me--before I decided on this one.

But hey, don't take my word for it, check it out HERE.  

Rish Outcast 324: Writers Conference Report 2026 Part 2

Rish finishes talking about this year's conference. Look at me, Gino! It's all for you!

Rish talks about a writer who only managed to write one book in a year, about meeting a Disney director, about letting your subconscious work out plot details, tries to answer a couple of Marshal Latham questions, and what he has now decided is his favorite Disney animated film.

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 "Biter's Conference" Moretto.

Rish: 1, Ghosts: 0

I haven't had anything to write on my blog in a little while (yes, I have posted, but those have been posts from January or February that I hadn't yet put up).  But something I haven't gotten a lot of complaints about have been my reports about brushes with ghosts.*

A couple of the crappiest cameras we have here are the ones in the halls downstairs and in the building next to us.  While that has proved problematic when trying to identify patrons or suspicious individuals, it does wonders for would-be ghost sightings.

Take this image, for example.  I glanced at the monitor and there was a shape standing on the west stairs in a long white dress, the kind nobody wears anymore.  Of course, she had no face.

Well, I've seen this phenomenon before--and haven't we all awoken on a Monday morning forty minutes before our alarms are set to go off only to discover that we have no face?--so I watched the spectre in question.  Turns out it was just a young woman, posing for photos, and color me surprised, she was not thrilled to hear that I had mistaken her for a ghost.

Between you and me, if you came up to me sometime and said, "Holy cow, I totally thought you were a ghost," I would take it as a compliment.  Also, feel free to sub out "ghost" with "zombie," "devil-worshiper," "Child of the Corn," "serial killer," "wereoctopus," or "pervert."

Apropos of nothing, ghosts often tell Chuck Norris stories around campfires.

P.S.  You may be wondering what the title of this post is all about.  To be honest, I couldn't decide if the ghosts should have gotten a point, with me getting zero, or the other way around.  Ultimately, I decided that I needed a win, just this once.

*Of course, I haven't gotten any compliments about it either, but whatchoogondo?

The Toughest Man In The Afterlife

So, Chuck Norris passed away this week.  He was 86 years old, and was famous for movies such as THE WAY OF THE DRAGON, DELTA FORCE, MISSING IN ACTION, FIREWALKER, and THE EXPENDABLES 2.  Oh, and the very successful television series "Walker Texas Ranger."  Also, he actually died twenty years ago, but the Grim Reaper hadn't built up the courage to tell him.

In other words, beyond his career in action films, Norris had a second success in a series of entertaining jokes about how tough, cool, or bearded the man was ("When the Boogeyman goes to bed, he checks his closet for Chuck Norris."  "Chuck Norris CAN believe it's not butter.").  I first discovered it in 2004 or 2005, and found it endlessly amusing ("There's no such thing as evolution, only a list of species Chuck Norris has allowed to live." "Chuck Norris once played Russian Roulette with a fully-loaded gun . . . and won."), swapping them with friends in California ("Chuck Norris can divide by zero."  "If you have five dollars and Chuck Norris has five dollars . . . he has more money than you.").

About a decade before he died this week, a gas station was built in town, and to celebrate its opening, Chuck Norris came to cut the ribbon and take photos with fans.  I was not necessarily a fan*, but I went anyway with my nephews, who had absolutely no idea who Norris was.  

Would they have been impressed to know that his tears cure cancer . . . but he unfortunately has never cried?

I've not seen a lot of his movies.  They weren't really my thing.  But dang, did I love to swap "facts" about him.  Did you know that when he left home, he told his father "You're the man of the house now?"

Still, all evidence to the contrary (the man had unsavory politics, was quite a limited actor, and sued the publishers of a book collecting some of his famous "facts"), he seemed like a pretty nice guy on that Saturday afternoon.  And I'm glad to have gone down there and gotten a photo with a beard so hard, it could not be chiseled into Mount Rushmore.

Norris wears a hat to protect the sun from him.

By the way, Norris once threw a hand grenade and killed fifty people.  Then it exploded.

*I could like him a lot less--my buddy Jeff hates Norris so bad he will not watch any movie Chuck Norris is in (or has expressed fondness for).  I guess Norris was Jeff's Vin Diesel.

Rish Outcast 323: Writers Conference Report 2026 1

The yearly writers conference that Rish goes to has come and gone, and somebody somewhere wanted an episode about it. Be careful what you wish for, son.

In this half, Rish asks "Am I arrogant?" He encounters the author of "Dungeon Crawler Carl." He attends a panel by a writer that hogs all the attention, he gets in a bit of a sticky situation, and he goes to a panel with a magical technique to improve your writing . . . or has Rish got brain damage?

To download the episode, just Right-Click HERE.

To support me on Patreon, click HERE.

Logo by "Dungeon Crawler Gino" Moretto.

One Book Down

I just finished reading "The Royal Assassin" by Robin Hobb, and I realized a terrible thing: it was the first book I had finished in 2026.  It is March, and I have only read one book.*

There was a Saturday Night Live sketch years ago of a game show called "What Have You Become?" where the host (I think it was the German actor from Bond and INGLORIOUS BASTERDS) would ask each contestant, "What have you become?" and they would realize they had had all these aspirations, all these dreams they had once pursued, and now . . . they were nothing.  One by one, they break down in despair, then he moves on to the next contestant.  It was not a brilliant sketch (I vaguely remember the last contestant, who was actually happy being a stay-at-home mom asking the host what he had become, and he reacts the same way), but it seems relevant now.  

Because, dude, what have I become?  My sweetest friend.

I like to read, very much, and I work . . . holy R.I.P. Jennifer Runyon, in a bloody library.  But I don't ever do it, or hardly ever.  I probably read as much as I write, and you know how good at that I am.

I am partway through another book I have been listening to in the car, but it is a miserable experience, the narrator absolutely ruining the main character every time she opens her mouth, but because I'm two-thirds of the way through it, I am unwilling to quit on it completely--to admit defeat--because all I'd have to do is give it an hour or three more, and I'd have two books read this year.

I heard the other day that writer Dan Simmons had died (which is sad--he was highly underrated), and I told myself, "I ought to read The Terror again sometime."  But at the rate I'm going, that will never happen.  I never make the time to read new books, much less books I've already read.  

And last year, I told my buddy Jeff about "Dungeon Crawler Carl" when I was reading it, and he read all seven books in the series before I had even finished that first one.**

I guess it's not too late to try to do better--and I do tend to read for an hour or two every time I go to the cabin in the summer--but I suspect this is the worst year on record for me and reading. That being said, I just checked out a book at the library (a 350 page T. Kingfisher book), and I will do the best I can to get it finished in less than three months.  Maybe even two. 

Rish

*Plus, I wouldn't even have finished it not been a warm afternoon so I dragged a chair outside and read until it was too dark to see anymore, then forced myself to finish it before I did anything else (otherwise, it might even have been April).

**Now, that's not to say I should compare myself to Jeff in all things.  After all, he reads two or more books a week.  Also, he is planning to retire within two years, and I plan to die penniless (and soon).  

Podcast That Dares 68: The Number Thirteen

Rish presents M.R. James's 1904 spooky story, "The Number Thirteen." A historian in Denmark stays in Room 12 of the local inn . . . but who is in Room 13? And is there even a Room 13?

Rish then talks and talks about the ending of the story (and so should you).

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

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

Logo by Gino "Thirteen Ain't Nothin But A Number" Moretto.

Sidekick Chart 4

The last day of the month was a Saturday, and luckily, most of my family had gone out of town.  I had the choice between trying to write at the library, or sitting down and recording a chapter or two of my novella, "A Sidekick To Miracles."  I chose the recording, mostly because it was the end of the month and I'd have to admit defeat on my Patreon address (again), and I already had failed in my exercise goal for the first time in years, so I sat down and checked my recorder.  I had just under five hours of recording time left.

I did Chapter 5, then Chapter 6.  I thought about quitting then, because I had done alright and I could raise the red in the bottle.  But I still had space to record, so I went on to Chapter 7.  Then there hit a point where, despite my lofty insecurities about my own writing abilities, the story started getting really good.  I did Chapter 8 and Chapter 9 without taking a break.

I checked, and I had forty minutes left of space to record, so I continued until that time was gone.  And then I deleted a couple of files so I could keep recording.  I ended up going all the way to the end and was delighted to discover that I was getting a chance to voice an adult Ben Parks (something I've never done, and even forgotten I had written).  The story, while not perfect, and not even great, is at least good, and I can rest from my labors knowing I actually accomplished something I had set out to do.

For once.

P.S.  Okay, okay, I didn't accomplish the sample part, but that's for editing audio anyway, so eff you.

Hit Me With Your Best Aught

If you were unfortunate to have seen my recent post about having a hundred Fake Sean Connery song quote videos over at Instagram, you may have observed that the decade of the 00s (or Aughts, as people smarter than me sometimes call them) had been practically ignored.

I figured I would try to remedy that, so I went online and looked up the biggest hits (on Billboard) for those years, and yikes, what awful, awful songs.*  I guess it's not a wonder that I started listening to talk radio, Oldies, and--gasp!--Country music during that era.

I also looked up Rolling Stone magazine's list of the Top 200 songs of the 2000s, and while I only recognized a fraction of those, there were a bunch more tracks I would consider "good" on that list (my impression from the Billboard list is that relatively few hit songs made it to Number 1, then hung on to the top spot of a while, hence there's not as much variety there.**  And out of curiosity, I checked and "A Bar Song" by Shaboozey is the current record-holder with nineteen weeks at the top).

My point is, I'd like to do more songs from that decade, but I found maybe one single song I liked enough to feature.  Do you have songs from the 2000s that Fake Sean could quote?  Let me know in the comments, or if I have already passed by the time you read this, via Ouija board.

P.S.  No, the Shaboozey song is not TECHNICALLY the longest-running Number 1 on Billboard, but don't be a "Well, ackshually" guy.  You're better than that.

*That is, when I even recognized them.    

**And what they claim to have been the biggest hit of the year 2000--"Breathe" by Faith Hill--never actually made it to Number 1.

Rish Outcast 322: The Dark Gift 2

Finishing the presentation of "The Dark Gift." Thanks to you. People are finally starting to notice Nobie Miller . . . a lot of people at the Pickle Days carnival. And they're noticing her a lot.

Rish goes to a pretty dark place (no pun intended) with the discussion afterward, but also explains the main character's ridiculous name (still not as bad as the majority of Gen Z names are--Braxton, Oakley, Addison, Jaiden, and Rayleigh--I'm looking at you).

Warning: Wilson Phillips.

Download the file directly by Right-Clicking HERE.

Support me on Patreon HERE!

Logo by Gino "The Slightly-Tanned Gift" Moretto.

Ghostwatch '26 Update

Spoiler here--still no ghosts.

I was told that the library was haunted, oh, probably three years ago (the librarian that told me it was "totally haunted" no longer works here), and I've kept my eyes open ever since.  No ghosts so far.

Tonight, there was a woman, however, standing completely still in the hallway.*  When I zoomed in on the image, I saw that she had empty sockets where her eyes should be.

Other than that, it's hardly worth mentioning (she's not dressed in an old-fashioned or ghost-like way), and she's not scary in the slightest . . . so why am I mentioning it?  I don't know, I just like to type blog posts when I'm here at work, and I imagine people (or person) out there like them.

The thing is, there are a couple of high-definition cameras here in the library, where you can zoom in and get facial details or license plates, but most of them are just low-def video cameras that get more and more pixelated as you enhance the image.  And because of that, I've seen several people that have empty eye sockets or gaping black Edvard Munch mouths.  I just don't bother writing about it anymore.  

But if I ever see a woman with long flowing hair and a wispy white dress blowing in a non-existent breeze pointing her finger at me in a silent accusatory scream, I'll be sure to let you know.

I realize this image isn't great, but I kept it because the hand is on the wrong side.  VERY common with ghosts.

*Sometimes--okay, nearly always--the video readout glitches and the images are momentarily frozen, so people will appear or disappear as the footage catches up with realtime, but this was just a woman standing there, thinking or listening to music or ____.  

My Voice In "Manor Of Frights" Collection

I often mention it when I narrate or lend my voice to a story on other podcasts, but I suppose I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that Emerian Rich has recently put out a collection of stories that she performed on the HorrorAddicts podcast, many of which feature my voice as well.

The collection includes (at least as far as I can tell) seventeen stories, each taking place in a room of a macabre Victorian manor, and are as follows:

Flowers in the Foyer by DW Milton
Storage by Ollie Fox
Bye, Baby Bunting by Leslie Warren

Withered Bindings by Michael Fassbender
Dinner Guests by Emerian Rich
A Green Thumb by Daphne Strasert
Turning Pages by Mark Orr

A Fresh Start by D.J. Pitsiladis
The Living Room by Amanda Leslie
Lanai by BF Vega
Cacophony by Judith Pancoast
Nightbears by Loren Rhodes
Beyond the Ensuite by Barend Nieuwstraten III (I remember reading this one and thinking, "What the devil's an ensuite?"  Oh, I was so naive in those days.  But I still don't know)
The Desiccated Heart by Sumiko Saulson
A Study in Terror by Jason Fischer
Come Find Me, Mummy by Rosetta Yorke
Missing by R.L. Merrill

Emz put these out where you can buy the whole collection in audio, and it's now up on Audible HERE.  Just pray the doors don't lock behind you.

Sidekick Chart 3

It's practically the end of the month, and it seems clear I will not make my goal of finishing "A Sidekick To Miracles," even though it was totally doable.

The problem is, writing is hard.  And rewriting is, if not just as hard, probably less enjoyable, and that makes it just as difficult.  I have had several opportunities to get to work on the audiobook this month, and have found an excuse not to nearly every single time.

Today, though, I found myself alone in the house for a few minutes, and I forced myself to sit down and at least finish Chapter 3.  It took approximately five times longer than it should have, which is not great, but also not the worst I've done on one of these.  And then, after my run tonight, I did Chapter 4 (which is barely a chapter, and still took twenty-something minutes).

So, here's where our bottle stands as of now (great, it is not):

You may think I'm doing better than last time, at least as far as the bottle goes . . . and you'd be right.  Last time, I thought there were fifteen chapters in the book, but there are only thirteen.  So it looks like I've made much better progress than I have.

Marshal & Rish Bury . . . The Living??

I remember watching I BURY THE LIVING! at the family cabin alone on a Sunday afternoon last fall.  It's a 1958 horror film about a man (Richard Boone) hired to work at a cemetery with a big map of all the burial plots who discovers that, when he puts a pin in a space, the person who owns that plot dies.  Or do they?

Okay, I'll be honest: until today, I had completely forgotten we had watched this movie, and had it confused with the Daisy Ridley zombie flick that came out a month back.  But not too long ago, Marshal Latham and I did an episode talking about it, and I even did a whole separate podcast episode inspired by it, talking about Stephen King's "Obits," which was also inspired by it.

Maybe you'll be inspired too.  Check it out HERE.

Rish Outcast 321: The Dark Gift Part I

Rish presents the first half of his recent carnival story, "The Dark Gift." Nobie, Eris, and Grump are enjoying the 1992 Pickle Days celebration when Nobie spins a wheel and it stops on something it wasn't supposed to.

Afterward, Rish explains the title and inspiration--making this probably the only story he's ever written due to spite.

Note: This was not intended to be split into two episodes, so it might behoove you to wait and listen to both parts together.  Or, judging by its reaction elsewhere . . . not at all.

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

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

Logo by Gino "The Dork Gift" Moretto.