I’m in the final throes of that short story for Twit Publishing – just getting a few wee hours of sleep in between cycles. In the meantime, I come to you, my friends and colleagues, to see if anyone knows an artist (or is willing to give it the old Community College Try) to combine the aesthetics of this:
Delicious steam-powered Varia Suit.
With the form and functionality of this:
Get away from her, you bitch!
I’m willing to pay in gratitude or even sexual favors.
Ladies and gentlemen, I’m officially in Crunch Time until the end of the week, what with several miscellaneous deadlines looming. In lieu of a real blog post today, I simply leave you with what has to be my favorite image ever:
Everyone’s heard the phrase “the truth is stranger than fiction,” but until you experience an instance of it yourself you kind of lack perspective on the whole thing.
I know nothing about ragtime. Or maple leaves.
I had my experience yesterday, and it started off completely innocuous and ballooned from there. I’ve been working steadily on my second short story for my editor over the past few days(don’t worry, Craig, it’ll be sitting in your inbox by Friday), and without revealing anything or spoiling the plot for anyone, I’m introducing another character that hasn’t appeared in any previous New Herculaneum stories yet. He’s a musician, and as I’m imbuing the series with retro-dieselpunk elements, I decided to specify music that was popular during the early 20th century.
The beginning and the end.
Now I’m not normally one to pick on poor white trash (and not just because they have a reputation for being heavy drinkers, having short tempers, and prone to gun-related violence), but I honestly think I encountered the Omega Redneck yesterday.
After six long years of service, my computer chair finally gave up the ghost and suffered a catastrophic mechanical failure. Unfortunately for me I was sitting in it at the time.
On a scale from 0 to 10, with 0 being hanging yourself in the bathroom and 10 being deliriously happy, these two ferrets are rocking an 11.
Shit nigga, we happy as a mother fucker!
Real content to return this Monday! In the meantime, enjoy the swag.
While the worst day of the year was yesterday for anyone who works retail, I felt it should be commemorated by some good old fashioned inappropriate humor.
I mean, “Black” Friday? Do you even know how racist that sounds?