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I won't do that thing where it posts my tweets here, I might embed them in the sidebar over at Fragments of Shadow, when I get around to finishing the redesign.
John Updike is dead from lung cancer.

The quote above is from "A&P," my favorite of his short stories. I haven't read the Rabbit series in years, and it's been even longer since The Witches of Eastwick, but he'll definitely be missed.


Get these free stickers over at Ziraxia!


There's also a special offer so you can get another set of stickers with all the Ziraxians and 20% off your order if you buy a shirt (or two, or more).

Do me a favor and repost this for your friends lists, I love these stickers, and want to get them out there far and wide.

Farewell, Forry.

Forrest J. Ackerman has passed.

Thank you, uncle Forry, for everything. For Ray Bradbury, for Famous Monsters of Filmland, and even for Sci-Fi. But most of all, thank you for being a truly kind person.

Kat and I met Forry at DragonCon. Kat was wearing a spider-shaped poison ring that was, essentially, a replica of the one Lon Chaney Sr. used to wear. The one Forrest had, with a picture of Chaney in it, and a dab of his makeup.

Forry came over, and sat down next to Kat, and complimented her on her ring, and showed her the real one. They talked for almost an hour, about everything and nothing, and for the rest of the weekend, every time we saw him, he’d wave at Kat, point to his ring, and wink. He truly loved what he was doing, and his enthusiasm was contagious. It’s no wonder all the things he championed caught on, with a cheerleader like him.

He’ll be missed.

This entry is crossposted from Evil Spy. Go to the original.

Ia, ia, Cthoobi phtagn!

This is a good example of why I work at Ziraxia. Where else would I get to do this?

This entry is crossposted from Evil Spy. Go to the original.

Night of the Wombat Trailer!

Joe, the new guy at work, made this video for the Daily Wombat shirt over at Ziraxia. Remember, you can buy the shirt at Ziraxia!This entry is crossposted from Evil Spy. Go to the original.

Thank you for allowing your ridiculous, homophobic fears to run rampant.

You have succeeded in banning something that was already illegal. You have destroyed what rights I had regarding my relationship with my girlfriend of fourteen years in your knee-jerk reaction, your “HOMO BAD!” flailing.

Perhaps next time you could have a more open mind or failing that, read more than the intentionally misleading summary of the law intended to drive an outmoded, “God-fearing” agenda that has no place in a society with a true separation of church and state.


This entry is crossposted from Evil Spy. Go to the original.

I Want to Write My Secret Across Your Sky

Worlds are colliding. I’m working four jobs right now.

Ziraxia/Red Alert: The same, though I’m changing schedules next week to make Howl-O-Scream work better. We’re doing well. You should buy a shirt here :) Current Writing Gig: Stupidly behind, but almost done. I feel like crap for being late. If you see this, W, Sorry! Howl-O-Scream: Tuesday is dress rehearsal. House looks good this year. Come visit me in Club Muse! Third Eye Games: Doing the website, that’ll be moving here soon.

On top of all that? My mouth is a shambles. The braces I had as a child ate all the enamel off my teeth and now I’m paying for it. I have a root canal tomorrow afternoon. And thousands of dollars worth of work beyond that… With no insurance or idea where I’m going to get the money to pay for it all. Any rich uncles running around out there I don’t know about?

This entry is crossposted from Evil Spy. Go to the original.

From horror to slapstick in one easy step.

Horror must be highly orchestrated. If anything is off, it can turn into comedy, and all the tension you’ve built up can disappear in a puff of smoke.

All they changed was the score.

This entry is crossposted from Evil Spy. Go to the original.

A Song to Say Goodbye

My cat Groucho, my constant companion since he was a kitten 19 years ago, has been ill for a while. He lost a lot of weight over the last month. He’s been fading, despite my best efforts to help him gain weight, to recover. His whole life, he’s been a kitten. Playful. Loving. Last night I spent the entire evening writing with him in my lap or following me around the apartment as best as his wobbly, weak legs could carry him. I knew it was coming. I told him my goodbyes and made sure he knew how much I love him. This morning, I checked on him and he lifted his head up and meowed to me. I kissed his head and petted his purring flank, and went to work.

He passed away in his sleep this afternoon.

Farewell, little one. I miss you.

This entry is crossposted from Evil Spy. Go to the original.