"Brain Droppings" by George Carlin

Seeing as how “Brain Droppings” is a collection of George Carlin’s greatest hits, it’s only fitting that instead of a full-scale review, I give a few samples of his work. Starting with…

Which is more immoral? Killing two 100-pound people or killing 300-pound person?

Which is taller? A short-order cook or a small-engine mechanic?

If JFK Jr. got into a taxi in New York to go to the airport, do you think he would say, “Take me to JFK?” How would he feel about that? And how does Lee Harvey Oswald’s mother feel when she walks through JFK, knowing that if she had stayed single it would probably be Martin Luther King Jr. Airport?

How can “crash course” and “collision course” have two different meanings?

Kids are now being born with syphilis and cocaine habits. There’s nothing like waking up your second day on Earth and realizing that once you kick cocaine you’re still going to have the syph. And hey, kids! If you didn’t get VD in the womb, don’t worry, you still have a shot. Some toddlers recently picked up gonorrhea at a day care center.

When a lion escapes from a circus in Africa, how do they know when they’ve caught the right one?

They said on the news that tests on monkeys showed HIV can be transmitted through oral sex. What I want to know is, who had to blow the monkeys?

Shopping and buying and getting and having comprise the Great American Addiction. No one is immune: When the underclass riots in this country, they don’t kill policemen and politicians, they steal merchandise. How embarrassing.

Since childhood is a time when kids prepare to be grownups, I think it makes a lot of sense to completely traumatize your children. Gets them ready for the real world.

I always order the International Breakfast: French toast, English muffin, Belgian waffle, Spanish omelet, Danish pastry, Swedish pancakes, Canadian bacon, and Irish coffee.

Something is dreadfully wrong in this country. There is actually an organization called Wrestlers Against Drugs, and on TV there is now a Christian weightlifting tour.

Want more? Buy “Brain Droppings”. It’s what Carlin would have wanted…whether he was dead or alive.

　

***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“We’ve heard about battered wives and a lot of work has been done in that area. But then we started hearing about battered husbands too. There are battered husbands. This happens when the woman is really big, the man is really small, and they each drink a quart of whiskey a day.”

-George Carlin (who else?)-

The Crying Clown with Back Pain

There are times when you can never fully decipher what a dream means and then there are times when they’re painfully obvious. One night, I had a dream that was the latter of those two extremes. Before going to bed, I had a tremendous pain in my lower back. It was so bad that the next day I had to call in sick to my weekly volunteer job at the Kitsap Historical Society. Somehow my subconscious took all this pain as a cue to create of the most depressing dreams I’ve ever had. I dreamed I was watching a cartoon where a clown was riding around in a small car bumping into police cars. He’s happy and fine one minute, but with no real transition into the next moment, he’s suddenly crying because his back hurts. This isn’t just any kind of crying. It’s not the kind of crying that a child does when he hits his head. It’s not even a minor euphemism for complaining. This was an actual tearjerker of a scene. There were tears raining down his face all because he suddenly had back problems that prevented him from taking a shower. The clown is a symbol of happiness and joy (despite what you see in “The Brave Little Toaster” and “It“). To see a prominent symbol of laughter crying in a depressive state over having dull back pain is the ultimate slap in the face to someone in the real world who actually has back pain. When I woke up, after I made the call to the museum that I was taking the day off, I went downstairs to have a heat wrap pasted to my lower back. Ever since then, my pain became a non-issue. I might have to go to the chiropractor, but I like going there anyways, so it’s not a big deal. Knowing that a positive outcome was on the horizon, why exactly did my subconscious need to send me a clinically depressed clown? It’s not like the clown had a malignant tumor in his back, nor did he have any slash marks. It’s just minor back pain and he’s crying like his grandma just died. If it’s bothering him that bad, he should shell out some dough for a massage or a chiropractic adjustment. Minor back pain doesn’t necessarily constitute high drama. But in my imagination, it just might. If I make a story out of this, it will have to be done with a clear head and intensive planning. I can make this work. In fact, I can make it work or my name isn’t Garrison Kelly. Actually, Kelly isn’t my last name, it’s a pseudonym. The Garrison part of my penname is right, so maybe I can split the difference 50/50 when it comes to my success with a story about a sad clown with back pain.

　

***TELEVISION QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Ever heard of Obama Care? Well, this is We Don’t Care.”

-Marty Deeks from “NCIS: Los Angeles”-

Karlos Ludwig

Okay, so maybe I already have a character named Karlos Ludwig. He’s the guitarist in the title band Death Blade. He’s got dreadlocks, a fluffy beard, and badass shredding abilities. Even so, his role was very small, because there were other characters who easily outshined him and his name was only mentioned a few times within that short story. Before the guitarist version of this character was created, Karlos Ludwig was an entirely different person in a Good Reads fantasy RPG called Medieval Magic. In that storyline, he was an introverted knight who didn’t like taking crap from authority figures. Being introverted works for a lot of people in real life, but unfortunately, aggressively seeking privacy from the other players doesn’t work so well in an RPG setting. Nobody can say he didn’t try, though. He ordered a big ass pizza at a bar known for brawls. He took a swim in a fairy lake. He trained in an open field known for being hunting grounds. How could this guy not be obvious to everyone after all these things? It’s probably because everyone was so scared of Karlos that they were afraid to approach him. Due to a lack of human interaction, I had to permanently disable him from game play and when I tried to make a more extroverted character, that didn’t work either. Eventually, I parted ways with Medieval Magic and went on to bigger and better things. Despite having already used Karlos as a character in Death Blade, I feel like he didn’t get enough of the spotlight and that he needs more. I’m more than willing to recycle his name into a more prominent character. What kind of character will that be? Karlos Ludwig is a very intimidating name no matter what occupation he undertakes. Hey, he could be an undertaker! Nothing strikes fear in the hearts of others quite like burying dead bodies. But what if he was actively seeking “clients”? What if he was cruising the neighborhood looking for young girls to put in these graves? Alive, no less! Karlos Ludwig is already sounding like a creepy psychopath. But he doesn’t necessarily have to be. In Medieval Magic, he was a dark knight similar to Cecil Harvey’s first incarnation in the videogame Final Fantasy IV. What if Karlos was Cecil Harvey on steroids? Maybe instead of dark blue armor, it could be all black with poisonous spikes. Instead of a long sword, Karlos could carry a glowing green battleaxe to signify even more poison running through his veins. Whether he’s an antihero or an ant villain, the one requirement I would have for Karlos Ludwig is that he’s the scariest motherfucker in the entire prose. He’d have to have a face only a mother could love, provided that mother also gave birth to either Jeffrey Dahmer or Charles Manson. I think we can make this work, people. I’m not ruling it out just yet!

　

***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

VIC MACKEY: You want us to catch this killer or not?

DAVID ACEVEDA: Going undercover as dirty cops. You think you can pull that off?

VIC MACKEY: We can try.

-The Shield-

Daniel McBride

As a writer, I draw inspiration from pretty much everything around me. Drawing inspiration from the movie Pulp Fiction as a teenager was probably not the best idea. Don’t get me wrong, Pulp Fiction is a badass movie and Quentin Tarantino will always be remembered for it. It’s just that Quentin Tarantino is really the only person qualified to write anything in his own style. I tried copying his style and it was a fucking disaster. That’s where we get the character Daniel McBride. The reason he’s called that is because I didn’t know at the time of creation there were already people named Danny McBride. I thought I was being original, but it turns out I’m not. You want to know what made Daniel so special? He used racial slurs despite not being a racist. He was first introduced in a Play By Web college RPG as a freshman art major. He got in a rivalry with another kid named Shawn Rawlins because Shawn’s player controlled Daniel’s actions and used him to trip Shawn accidentally. Folks, if you’re ever in an RPG, don’t control anybody’s character but your own. That’s a huge pet peeve of mine. But instead of complaining to the admin of the game, I tried to make lemonade out of lemons. Daniel tried apologizing to Shawn, but Shawn pulled a gun on him and shot him in the leg. Daniel then shouted a whole bunch of KKK jokes at him (Shawn was black) and got beaten up even further for it. That and the wannabe thug stole Daniel’s girlfriend away from him in the process. I can safely say I’ve never been traumatized by an RPG before that moment, so I left for greener pastures. Years later, Daniel McBride became a character in a movie I wrote called Pumping Filter, where his old rivalry with Shawn Rawlins was relived. Pumping Filter had a whole bunch of racial tension with no real reason for it. The way I justified it back then was the whole idea behind insulting someone was to get them angry and nothing made an opponent angry like an attack on their culture. As I got older, I realized that simply using those attacks is enough to be deemed racist and rightfully so. These days, my works don’t resemble Pulp Fiction on steroids. Quentin Tarantino was a staple of the criminal underworld, so he has all the tools he needs to write these kinds of movies. Me? I’m just a suburban white kid who had a generally easy life. But as it stands, Daniel McBride needs a new home, either as a college or high school kid. Maybe this time his martial arts skills will come in handy and he’ll actually win fights. His martial arts skills didn’t work too well in Pumping Filter and that college RPG. Can I really make chicken salad out of chicken shit and turn Daniel McBride into a respectable human being? I hope so, because my imagination is getting to be too lonely for him.

　

***JOKE OF THE DAY***

Q: What grades do racist skinheads get in school?

A: Not C’s.

Devon Spirit Wolf

Being a referee in any sport is a thankless job, especially in the world of mixed-martial arts. If you make one tiny mistake as a referee, a firestorm of criticism will descend upon you like the end of the world is already upon us. You’ll catch shit from Dana White, Joe Rogan, the fans, the fighters, everybody. If you don’t believe me, ask referees like Steve Mazzigatti, Kim Winslow, Yves Lavigne, and just recently, Herb Dean. I don’t have a Twitter account, so I never know if these referees are lashing out against their critics. That’s why I’ve taken the liberty of creating a character that I hope to one day use in a future combat sports prose. Meet Devon Spirit Wolf. She’s Native American, she’s smoking hot, but best of all, she’s opinionated. In fact, she has her own blog called The Bitchy Referee. In this blog, she has a take no prisoners attitude and she doesn’t let anybody get away with murder. I know referees are supposed to be impartial, but Devon can get away with it because she lives in a fictional world were neutrality is bullshit. In one of her posts, she says that she has a lot of empathy for real world referee Kim Winslow. Kim is one of the most criticized referees in the business. Not because she makes controversial calls, but because she’s a woman. Think of all the “make me a sandwich” comments she had to endure over the internet, not to mention other renditions of the kitchen genre. Devon is also a woman and also doesn’t put up with sexism. She also doesn’t put up with transphobia either. In fact, when Matt Mitrione made his bigoted comments about Fallon Fox, Devon was the first to say that Matt secretly swung both ways and that he had a dress collection in his closet. Ouch! You know what else Devon Spirit Wolf hates? Pro-life zealots. She actually had an abortion when she was a teenager. She knows it’s not the most pleasant experience a woman can go through, but she also knows that a woman should never be shamed for it. Any other topics you’d like to throw in front of Devon Spirit Wolf’s face? She may be small enough to fit in Demetrious Johnson’s pockets, but she’ll kick anybody’s ass, whether it’s verbally or physically. She has a Brazilian Jujitsu black belt, so don’t piss her off. Now if only she can find a job in one of my stories. I already had one referee who was verbally animated and her name was Cheryl Glenn. I’m sure Devon Spirit Wolf will find work as well.

　

***DOMESTIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“If men want women to buy rape insurance, men should have to buy murder insurance.”

-Susan Wilson, the Deep Space Cowgirl-

The Geek Store

Dreams are always a wonderful source of creativity. When we have them, it seems as though they’re just random pictures floating through our heads. Do they have meaning? Most of the time they do. I had a dream the other night that might be the inspiration for a business venture should I ever make enough money from being an indie author. In this dream, I went to a place called The Geek Store and bought a whole bunch of graphic novels. I might have gotten some standard novels as well, but for the most part, I got comic books. When I talked about this with my sister-in-law Susan, I began to brainstorm other things I could sell if I decided to open my own version of The Geek Store. So far, I have graphic novels, regular novels, Dungeons & Dragons paraphernalia, toys, Magic: the Gathering cards, and the obligatory snacks people eat whenever they’re engaging in creative activities. I’m pretty sure there are gaming shops that sell these things already. Lord knows I’ve been to a few of them. That means when I eventually buy the rights to The Geek Store, I’ll have to sell more varieties of things. Maybe I should put on some tunes and brainstorm ideas for items at this store in my Lego journal. Journals are good for brainstorming. They really clear up the mind, and, holy shit, there’s another idea for something to sell: themed diaries. With all the things I’ve already listed, how about I just put it this way. I envision The Geek Store being a hybrid of all these other stores: Barnes & Noble, Wizards of the Coast, Lego Land, Toys R Us, and Michael’s Art Shop. All of the sudden, the umbrella term just got opened up to cover more areas. I like that! I like that a lot! Of course, with any business idea, while it may sound like a lot of fun, I do have to keep track of several financial aspects such as taxes and profits. All those numbers can really drain somebody’s creativity before it has the chance to spark in a place like The Geek Store. If I ever do open up such a place, I’ll need a business savvy partner. It doesn’t even have to be somebody I already know. It could just be a random consultant out of the Yellow Pages. I know absolutely nothing about business. I took one class on it when I was in high school and that was during my freshman year when my brain was already turning to liquid shit. Having a business-minded partner would seal the deal if I ever decided to make this store a reality. I’ll even settle for having Paul Heyman as my business associate. Then again, it’s not really settling if you enjoy the guy’s WWE promos. I’d even dare say I’m a Paul Heyman guy. But I’m losing sight of things already. The question of the day is, if I opened a Geek Store in your hometown, would you shop there? Please say yes. Hell, I know you’ll say yes, because you’d have to be a little geeky in order to read my blog in the first place.

　

***JOKE OF THE DAY***

Q: What does a futuristic police officer get when he has sex with a prostitute?

A: Robo Clap.

Laser Rocket Bomb

Childhood is a time when imaginations run wild and people are free to be their silly selves. I certainly was no exception when I was growing up in the early 1990’s in California. My favorite way of exercising my imagination was playing with Legos. I had one Lego piece that was a rod attached to a five-studded single block. The side studs had switches on them and the top stud had a long red laser pole. These pieces obviously came from a space adventure set I had (in case you didn’t already guess from the laser pole). What kind of thing could I imagine this Lego piece to be? How about a weapon that can blow shit up like Hiroshima? How about I call this Lego piece…a Laser Rocket Bomb. I shit you not. My creativity was wild, but my vocabulary was minimal. Then again, in the early 90’s I was only a fucking kid, give me a break. Seeing as how I was a kid, I didn’t know how serious nuclear war was. There was even a time when I thought dead people could be brought back to life by CPR. Naturally, I wanted the Laser Rocket Bomb to be a real weapon I could use on people. I often imagined it being used to blow up my school so I didn’t have to go anymore. That’s pretty sadistic, but being young and naïve has that effect on a child. Imagine if I actually tried to build this weapon out of raw materials. I would need three light switches, a small rocket engine, a light saber (from Star Wars fame), and a grenade in the middle of the whole contraption. I ran this idea by my older brother James and he had enough wisdom to tell me that I would die while making it. Pulling a pin on a grenade will set it off whether the light saber handle is stuck in the hole or not. I’ll be the first to admit that the Laser Rocket Bomb isn’t a very practical military weapon. What exactly would the point of the light saber be? Doesn’t the grenade and rocket engine do enough damage? Do we really need that extra amount of overkill? And why are grenades and rocket engines paired together in the first place? Come to think of it, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if this weapon was used during the Bush administration during the Iraq War. In fact, if George W. Bush attempted to build the Laser Rocket Bomb himself, we probably wouldn’t have an Iraq War. Let this be a lesson to everyone who wants to exercise their imagination. Get it out of your system when you’re a kid and don’t know how the world works yet. When you’re older and it all makes sense, it won’t be so fun anymore.

　

***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Politicians are like a box of chocolates: the democrats are soft and gooey on the inside and the republican party just has a bunch of nuts in it.”

-Bill Maher-

Mario Bryan

My characters are an extension of my personality in some way. Mario Bryan is no different. He’s an atheist liberal, he hears voices in his head, he was a pro-wrestling and MMA enthusiast, and he studied English in college. Mario and I couldn’t be more alike if we both were featured in the music video for “Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2” by Pink Floyd. Another way we’re alike is how we came to be schizophrenics. It was during a time in our lives when we thought nothing could touch us. We were riding high creatively and academically. Mario had a hot girlfriend named Tori Edge and I was getting used to the company of girls. And then when we started hearing voices in our heads, our charisma was pretty much nonexistent. Once the charisma was gone, so were our social circles. This is how we graduated from high school: lost in delusion and all alone in the process. For me, college was more of the same: tons of head voices and nobody to be friends with. But for Mario Bryan, it’s not too late just yet. He was my main character in a Good Reads college genre role-playing game. His first appearance in the collective storyline was at Barnes & Noble, where he would purchase the darkly funny thriller “Pipsqueak” by Brian Wiprud. During this transaction, he wouldn’t even look the clerk in the eye and she couldn’t do it either. Mario just gave her his debit card and she charged it for the purchase. When he went over to the tea bar, however, the storyline became slightly more interesting. The female clerk (Emily) was being yelled at by her boss and she could do nothing but run over to the tea bar as an escape plan. With this stressed out lady in front of him, Mario did something his introversion and schizophrenia would never allow him to do: he asked if she was okay. The conversation between him and Emily started getting more casual with topics ranging from tastes in literature to college majors. There was one point in the conversation where Mario did a Bullwinkle impression for her and she giggled at it. She didn’t know who Bullwinkle was, but she loved the impression anyways. Two socially awkward people such as Mario and Emily would have made great friends, maybe even a great couple at best. Due to inactivity and nobody showing an interest in playing with me, this gimmick never materialized. Mario Bryan is still a schizophrenic college student, but now he doesn’t have a college to go to. At least with his disability, he can collect social security until he’s ready for the job market. The only question now is, what kind of job will he take? I’m sure there’s somebody out there who needs a weirdo like him.

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“I've built myself a stage to plea. The curtains closed, it's only me. It's only me to beg and to plead. Left for dead and left to bleed. Thirteen struck dead, unlucky at best. I'll never rest, in hell I'm just a guest. So listen closely because I'll only say it once before departing. When the show ends it's really only starting.”

-Sworn In singing “XIII”-

The McLeod Brothers (Charles and Ivan)

With the way book sales are going these days, not everyone will know the name of Mitch McLeod. If that’s the case, you’ll know even less about his cousins, Charles and Ivan McLeod. When I was still a member of Play By Web in the early 2000’s, Mitch McLeod was the most popular and brutal brawler to ever venture into OTT (Over the Top Wrestling) territory. He did things with weapons that nobody else thought of doing until their brains were swirling into the storm sewer. These days, Mitch McLeod has found employment under the Brawl Mart banner as a rebel within KDW (Keegan Day Wrestling). So where does that leave Charles and Ivan, his cousins? Are they going to follow in Mitch’s footsteps and become great? Do they have it in them to become the greatest tag team ever assembled? Or are these two beefcakes just a couple of dimwits? I’ve considered both routes when deciding what to do with Charles and Ivan. If they were to follow in the successful footsteps of Mitch, they would be a pair of characters that will be admired for generations to come. If on the other hand they started off as moronic slackers, then their transformation into a successful tag team will certainly be more believable. Every main character has to go through some kind of transformation by the time the book’s over, we all know that. That transformation can be anything from learning something new, finding friendship, finding love, or just becoming an overall stronger person. There are even times when the events of a story can make someone bitter and twisted. With that said, maybe the more believable route would be to make Charles and Ivan a pair of dumb-asses who have to learn how to be intelligent businessmen. They certainly will be given the potential to do so no matter what organization they’re a part of. They both weigh 285 lbs., they’re both 6’6”, and their finishing move is a double curb stomp. A single curb stomp is when a wrestler rolls his opponent on his stomach, pulls his arms backwards, places his boot behind the opponent’s head, and stomp him face first into the mat. I first saw Paul Burchill do it in the WWE, so giving this finishing move to a tag team of hulking idiots would seem logical to me. So we have this tag team with million dollar bodies and nickel brains. What kinds of obstacles will they face together? Superior opponents? Corporate oppressiveness? Fan hatred? Road troubles? These are all worthy things to throw in front of Charles and Ivan McLeod. I’ll let you all know what I decide to do with these guys if I ever want to do another Brawl Mart novel or Occupy Wrestling act. Until then, adios, motherfuckers!

　

***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“If you knock up Sarah Palin, Australia is a great place to hide, because then she’ll look for you in Austria.”

-Bill Maher-

"Lonely Day" by System of a Down

As someone who spends his days waiting for rides to the grocery store and figures to come up on my Deviant Art, Good Reads, and Smash Words accounts, I can appreciate how crippling boredom is. “Lonely Day” by System of a Down happens to be about boredom. But to me, it holds a very special meaning. Back in 2006, I had a best friend on Deviant Art named Colleen. The two of us were working on a tandem novel together. I don’t share my workload with anybody, so that said a lot about how much I valued Colleen’s friendship. It was my turn to write a chapter and I chose to do a dream sequence where one of the main characters, Morgan Gat, was at a high school dance. Everybody was dancing in each other’s arms and in some cases making out…except for Morgan. Morgan got all dressed up in fancy clothes, bought a bouquet of flowers, and showered with Axe products. You know who he did this for? Anybody who would pay attention to him. When nobody wanted to dance with him, he got frustrated to the point of boiling hot blood and salty wet tears. He did something that no high schooler should have to do: he went outside and dropkicked the bouquet of flowers into the parking lot. After the flowers covered some distance, Morgan caught up with them again and began double-stomping them until they were ripped to shreds. Everybody stuck-up girl inside that gymnasium did the same thing that night, except with Morgan’s heart. And then there was Colleen’s character in the parking lot. For the life of me, I can’t remember the character’s name, but she did something that touched Morgan’s heart in a profound way. She slow-danced with him to “Lonely Day”. “Such a lonely day should be banned. It’s a day that I can’t stand.” It was the most magical moment that could ever exist between two people. Years later, though, the novel would be scrapped due to inactivity and even further into time, Colleen broke off her friendship with me when she got a new Deviant Art account and blocked mine. What motivated Colleen to hate me all of the sudden, I’ll never know. It must have had something to do with the fact that I would continually call her “Colleen-Pie”. But is that really a reason to break off a beautiful friendship with someone? Thanks to her, “Lonely Day” has a brand new meaning to me. In addition to the boredom I feel at home, I also feel betrayed by Colleen and rightfully so. Even so, I will not let a good storyline go to waste. In my short story queue for the WSS group on Good Reads, I still have the flower kicking gimmick and it’s still going to take place at a high school dance. But this time, we’re going to do it right. It’s going to be one of my masterpieces, with or without Colleen.

　

***TELEVISION QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“This week on Cheaters, John discovers that his barista girlfriend is putting the cream topping on another man’s coffee.”

-Bob Magruder narrating “Cheaters”-

Tori Edge

Last year (2013), my mom, step-dad, and I went to the Humane Society and picked up two kitty pies to take home with us. One of them is the inspiration for today’s blog entry. Her name is Tori and she’s a tri-colored Abyssinian kitty. She’s an extrovert until the very end. She has a cute kitty voice and isn’t afraid to approach humans and meow to them until they pet her or pick her up. She’s also very playful. Whenever there’s a toy nearby dipped in catnip, she’ll bat that thing around for hours on end and never get bored. Tori is also an avid hunter. She’ll go outside and capture field mice and bunnies, but not for the purpose of sport. She actually had a giant bunny in her mouth and laid it down to try and nurse it (because the Humane Society aborted her kitties and she still has mothering instincts). Is there anything else I can tell you about Tortellini Alfredo Sauce as I like to call her sometimes? Actually, there is one more thing. I’d like to have a human character modeled after her someday named Tori Edge. She was originally going to be used in a college RPG on Good Reads. She was the ex-girlfriend of a schizophrenic student named Mario Bryan (who will get his own post later on). When Mario’s head voices became too much for her to handle, Tori broke up with him right on the cusp of graduation. Ever since then, she found a new boyfriend and I was going to have her introduce him to Mario in the RPG. Unfortunately for Tori, Mario, Tori’s plus one, and of course, me, the Good Reads group had a lot of potential, but virtually no activity. A group is only as good as the people who participate in it. Nobody wanted to role-play with Mario, so there was no opportunity to introduce Tori. So now that Tori never got her start in the literary world, I’m wondering what exactly I can use her for. A cheerleader? A basketball player? A volleyball player? If I’m going to choose a sport for her, I don’t want it to be a bloody one like MMA or pro-wrestling (despite those two being my all-time favorites). Tori Edge is a major sweetheart and shouldn’t have her face bloodied or bruised by an iron-fisted punch from Liz Carmouche or Amanda Nunez. If it’s at all possible, I’d like to preserve Tori’s innocence for as long as possible. Maybe she can be part of a PG or PG-13 story of some kind. No R-rated stuff for her. I wouldn’t want the kitty version of Tori to experience R-rated trauma, so why would I want that for the human Tori Edge? We’ll find something for her. She’s got the athletic grace to do whatever she wants adventure-wise. She could be the next Sonic or Princess Peach, you never know.

　

***INTERNET MEME OF THE DAY***

“I hate being bipolar, it’s awesome!”

Nathan Phoenix

This is a rhetorical question, but only because the answer is so fucking far out of reach for many of my readers. Can someone explain to me why a Scottish martial artist would have a Jewish given name (Nathan) and a non-ethnic last name (Phoenix)? I’m not talking about a Scottish immigrant coming to the US or an American of Scottish decent. I’m talking about an actual guy from Scotland whose name is Nathan Phoenix. Normally, people over there are named Ian MacDonald or Bryan McKee. But Nathan Phoenix? Not in a million years, though in a million years, the earth will probably be a gigantic ball of flaming shit, so it matters even less. It’s pretty safe to say when I invented Nathan Phoenix as a reserve character, I didn’t have a mind for ethnic names. Hell, I had a Chinese warlord whose name was Kasabian. But enough about nationalities for a moment. Let’s talk about Nathan instead. He’s got some badass red hair. It’s spiky, it’s puffy, and it comes with a neatly trimmed goatee. He also has the muscular build of an NFL linebacker. And when he throws a spinning kick to an opponent’s jaw, that’ll be the last time said opponent eats solid food. His punches are no less lethal. One punch to the ribs and every breath you take will feel like a sword going through your body. Now that we’ve established how badass Nathan Phoenix can be, where do we put him? What kind of home do you give to a guy who can make it anywhere? He’s a martial artist, so maybe we can put him in a 3D fighting videogame. Or we can put him in an MMA cage. Or a wrestling ring. Nathan loves the arena feel, so it should be something in that area. I know absolutely nothing about soccer despite playing it as a small child, but maybe Nathan could even be a soccer player with a mean streak as long as Saturn’s rings. Could you imagine what kind of damage he could do if he kicked a soccer ball and it hit you in your own balls? That’ll be the end of your bloodline, that’s for sure. As long as Nathan Phoenix has a crowd around him and he’s beating somebody up, he’s a happy guy. He’ll flash the biggest smile even though most of his teeth will be crooked from the fight. If he has to go to jail for some reason, this will definitely come in handy. Prisoners love watching a good fight as long as they’re not the ones getting beaten up. Prisoners also love to use their large numbers to single out their prey. Not a good thing to do to Nathan Phoenix, because he’ll punch and kick those prisoners so hard that he’ll make a Bruce Lee movie look like the next installment of Saw. You need an arena fighter? Look no further than the masterpiece himself, Nathan Phoenix. Isn’t that right, laddie? Actually, a guy named Nathan saying “laddie” sounds a little frightening. That could be another aspect of his intimidation game.

　

***MIXED-MARTIAL ARTS QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“He’s taking a book out of Chuck Liddell’s chapter.”

-Mike Goldberg-

Time Cruisers and Time Twisters

I’ll be the first to admit that history wasn’t always my favorite subject in school. I always thought literature from the middle ages was supposed to be like a Dungeons & Dragons adventure. I also thought the 1800’s were supposed to be a wild west adventure complete with gun slinging and steam punk paraphernalia. I was sorely disappointed when I found out these things were false. I have the C’s on my report card to prove it. With the Time Cruisers and Time Twisters Lego sets and a big imagination, I didn’t have to conform to the history books. The middle ages didn’t have Bat Knights you say? The future doesn’t have Insectoid robots? Fuck that shit! If Dr. Cyber and Tim are a part of my playtime, I say make it so. No teacher screaming in my ear is going to tell me otherwise. This was all back in 1996 and 1997 when these particular Lego sets were popular. Dr. Cyber and Tim, better known as the Time Cruisers, had these creative-looking vehicles with dragon wings, fire engines, and hypnotic disks. Tony Twister and Professor Millennium, better known as the villainous Time Twisters, also had fun-looking vehicles, but this time the hypnotic disks were black and blue and each set came with bat wings, skeletons, chains, god knows what else. The Time Cruisers and Time Twisters would always butt heads in the magical Dark Forest, the mysterious reaches of the moon, the gun slinging bloodbath of the Wild West, or anywhere else my imagination could take me. But as I said, this was during the sixth grade, which was between 1996 and 1997. After those wonderful years of badass time travel, Lego decided to pull the plug on those two series. Ever since then, Dr. Cyber, Tim, Tony Twister, and Professor Millennium have been without work and were only remembered by a select few Generation Y members who actually wanted to bring their creativity to life. I say it’s time we resurrect their legacy from the bowels of forgotten Lego lore. But how are we going to do that other than buy their sets on eBay (the only place they can be found these days)? Could we write fan fiction about them? Maybe the Lego corporation has enough amnesia they wouldn’t notice if somebody breached their copyright clause. Are you willing to take that risk? Is there anybody out there who would gladly take this chance? Yes, fan fiction is an accepted art form on various websites, but what about the real world? Could we actually see a paperback novel about the Time Cruisers and Time Twisters on Barnes & Noble’s bookshelves? It seems to me that’s the best way to bring attention back to these underrated chronomancers. If not, then I guess we’ll just have to keep them alive in our hearts and memories. But you have to admit, hearts and memories can be lonely places at times, not at all unlike solitary confinement.

　

***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“When I was a kid and I got sick, I would go to a doctor who would take me to the hospital to be treated by other doctors. Now I go to a family practitioner who’s part of a health maintenance organization which sends me to a wellness center to be treated by healthcare delivery professionals.”

-George Carlin-

"The Sisters Brothers" by Patrick DeWitt

Whether you’re rooting against the title characters or for them, The Sisters Brothers (Charlie and Eli) will capture your imagination in one way or another. They can disturb you by killing everyone who crosses them. They can amaze you with little acts of humanity. Sometimes the two extremes will intermingle and create a thought-provoking story as written by Patrick DeWitt. Try as they might to get along and complete their mercenary work, Eli and Charlie could not be more different. Eli is the first character between the two of them who shows humanity in this novel. Charlie is just a nasty homicidal lunatic who will kill and fuck anything that walks. These two clashing personalities have to cancel each other out if they’re going to get any work done. Their assignment? Kill off a “thief” prospector by the name of Hermann Warm for the sake of exacting the Commodore’s revenge. The Sisters Brothers know nothing of Hermann Warm except small tales here and there. It’s all the same to them as they get ready to pull the trigger on this assignment. But the further along they get, the more Eli begins to question whether or not what they’re doing is right. Yes, the money is good and it’ll feed them well for years to come, but is there any real rhyme or reason to any of this? Why can’t Eli and Charlie just open up a trading post like any other normal human being in wild west Oregon and California? Wrestling with their consciences is something the brothers have to do all throughout the story, whether it’s shooting a man they know nothing about, taking care of a sickly horse, sending an orphaned boy in the right direction, or anything else that happens in this novel. Patrick DeWitt didn’t just write a mindless bloodbath. He wrote a thoughtful and intense narrative that anyone with even the slightest moral dilemma can relate to. Yes, I said “relate” in a story about the wild west. My references are slightly off, but that just goes to show you how powerful of a narrative Patrick DeWitt wrote. If nothing else, it should be a fun read filled with darkness and small moments of giggly behavior. I enjoyed all 328 pages of it and damn it, you will too. It may not be the fastest thing you’ll read, but it’s still a lovable work of art. Yes, I called it a work of art. If you don’t believe me, just look at the cover and see if you notice the double entendre. It could either be two brothers standing in front of the full moon or a skeletal warrior in a trench coat. Whoever designed the cover pretty much sealed the deal for Patrick DeWitt getting noticed. That, and it’s an intense read to begin with.

　

***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Wealth is not about how much you make, it’s about how much you save. I’ve known guys who make millions and yet they can’t even buy you a cup of coffee.”

-Jim Ross-

The Bathory Brothers (Markus and Karlos)

If it hadn’t been for Five Finger Death Punch, I would have never known that the last name Bathory existed. I didn’t study Hungarian history, so the closest thing I have is the band’s guitarist Zoltan. But what about other Bathory’s in my life? What about the two dark knight brothers Markus and Karlos Bathory? When last we heard of them, they made an appearance in my poetry anthology Confessions of a Schizophrenic Savage. I wrote heavy metal lyrics describing how they would stomp in the skulls of a hundred barbarians and peel the skins of a thousand dragons. You know, the stuff Beowulf could only dream of doing while jerking off in the “whale road“. Where did the Bathory brothers come from, anyways? Aside from the obvious answer of the bowels of hell, they actually do have a legitimate origin. They came to me in a dream I had one night about playing an alternative version of Super Mario World for the SNES. In addition to playing as Mario and Luigi, the obvious good guys, I also had the option of playing against the forces of good as the two evil sons of bitches known as Markus and Karlos Bathory, the black and red knight respectively. The dark knight brothers didn’t use pussy items like mushrooms, flowers, and feathers to bowl over their opponents. They had real weapons such as crossbows, magic wands, clubs, and war hammers. They also didn’t ride on a silly green dinosaur called Yoshi. They rode big ass armadillos, dragons, skeletal bulls, and anything else that could destroy their enemies just by walking over their tiny ass bodies. Now that you know both sides of the good and evil spectrums, which group of brothers do you think would win in a fight: a couple of fat-ass plumbers or a duo of brain-bashing, rib-cracking, flesh-ripping metal knights? All I can say to Mario and Luigi at this point is that they better have an unlimited supply of invincibility stars handy. The only way to defeat Markus and Karlos Bathory is by cheating. Even then, your chances are so slim it’s next to fucking impossible. So what shall I do with the two metal knights? Should they be part of a dark fantasy novel? Seems to be the most logical thing to do with them. They’re not getting enough attention in that poetry book, that’s for sure. Or maybe I could write a Mario Brothers fan fiction and somehow sneak the two knight siblings in the midst of the action. But once I figure out what to do with Markus and Karlos, then comes the question of whether they’re going to be antagonists or protagonists. We know they’re going to be villains, it’s just a matter of whether or not people choose to sympathize with them. If I can somehow make my audience sympathize with a couple of demonic warriors, I’ve got it made. I could retire early, you never know.

　

***CONCERT QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Are you guys fucking stupid or what?! You just kicked a chick in the face on purpose!”

-Ivan Moody, lead singer of Five Finger Death Punch-

The Cowboys From Hell (Austin Carlo and Court Jackson)

For the next few blog posts, I’m going to take a character (or multiple characters) of mine and try to find stories for them to be a part of. I’ve been trying to do this for over a decade with a barbarian I have named Deus Shadowheart and it looks like he’s all set. In this blog post, I’m going to focus on two more people who need employment. Otherwise, they’ll just rot in development hell for the rest of their wasted existence. Their names are Austin Carlo and Court Jackson, better known as The Cowboys From Hell. No, I didn’t originally give them that team name, it just stuck with me after listening to Pantera a lot. Like Deus Shadowheart, Austin and Court were once part of a combat sports slash dark fantasy novel called Hardcore Hell (originally called Hardcore Hate until my overly sensitive family shamed me into changing it). Because the novel had too many instances of telling instead of showing as well as hyperbolic descriptions that smothered the reading pace, it eventually had to be dumped and all of the characters had to be locked away in development hell. Austin and Court’s role in the novel was to be the bodyguards of a religious CEO named Hammond Gibbons. Hammond was extremely preachy and could get under anybody’s skin just by the mere mention of a fiery Christmas tree lot known as hell. Austin and Court didn’t necessarily agree with Hammond’s agenda nor did they enjoy being around him. But the money was good and so they took the jobs as hired henchmen. Now for a little characterization. If you think Deus Shadowheart was the biggest baddest motherfucker in the whole story at 6’4” and 285 lbs, try Austin and Court on for size. They were both 7’ tall and weighed anywhere between 325 and 400 lbs at any given moment. They weren’t a couple of lard asses either, they were just big muscular henchmen. Yes, they seem stereotypical and they probably were. So why then would I want to give employment to a couple of washed up minions? Ever since calling them The Cowboys From Hell, I’ve given a new life to all the things they could be. Maybe they’re not just mindless bruisers. Maybe they’re sadistic psychopaths. Maybe they’re deadly gangsters. Maybe, just maybe they’re into heavy metal music. Can you see these two juggernauts forming a band together and touring the world? How about fighting with chainsaws? Or doing what Tyson Hardy did in my latest novel Brawl Mart: carrying magical machineguns. Characters can only be one-dimensional if you give up on them so easily. In fact, as a lesson to all you authors out there, characters can only put out what you put into them. If I want Court Jackson and Austin Carlo to be legitimate badasses instead of mindless drones, I’m going to have to do something a little bit extra with them. Something like, you know, exercise my wild imagination. Court and Austin will find a home someday. I know it. If nothing else, they could be a professional wrestling tag team and the Wrestling Observer Newsletter can name both of them the Most Overrated Wrestlers of the Year. It’s a dubious award, but at least they’re getting noticed!

　

***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

VIC MACKEY: You’re married. Is your wife pretty?

LAWYER: She’s beautiful.

VIC MACKEY: How about I take your wife out for a weekend in Vegas, ride her ass hard, and put her away wet.

LAWYER: What?!

VIC MACKEY: Well, that’s about the level of cooperation I can expect from my captain on anything.

-The Shield-

　

***POST-SCRIPT***

I don’t know if I’ve advertised my e-books on here just yet, but if I haven’t, I’m going to do it now. But before I do, I want to let you all know that my original Lulu.com paperback books “Red Blood, White Knuckles, Blue Heart” and “Foe vs. Blade” are no longer available to be purchased. I couldn’t justify selling obscure mixed-genre anthologies for ten or twenty dollars each. So instead, I have an account with Smash Words and I’m selling genre-specific e-books at 99 cents a pop. My penname is still Garrison Kelly and these are my e-book titles:

Brawl Mart (two-act urban fantasy novel): https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/399435

Confessions of a Schizophrenic Savage (rock song lyrics collection):
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/369154

Dragon Machinegun (sci-fi, horror, and fantasy short story anthology):
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/353531

Remember, ladies and gentlemen: they’re 99 cents a piece. What are you waiting for? Happy reading!

"500 Letters" by Tarja Turunen

Of all the 500 letters from a stranger that appeared on Tarja Turunen’s doorstep, I’ve written at least ten of them. Luckily for the both of us, she never saw them. Otherwise, she would either have a restraining order against me or she would send her husband Marcelo to collect my scalp. This semi-romantic obsession with the Finnish goddess started when I was reintroduced to Nightwish’s music in 2006 with the song “Dead Boy’s Poem”. A year before that, Tarja was released from Nightwish for not getting along with her band mates. I was heartbroken. In fact, my heart had been hurting for her throughout my college days. Granted, most of it was due to the fact my social life was nonexistent. Also granted, I didn’t have a girlfriend at the time. So in order to keep from feeling too lonely, the place I went to in my head to stop the pain was Tarja. Her hair, her face, her voice…everything. It was the only thing that got me through being away from my family for that long. If for some reason it sounds like I’m quoting Marty Deeks from NCIS: Los Angeles, it’s because I am (even though I didn’t have a drill shoved in my mouth like he did). During this obsession with Tarja, I tried my damnedest not to sound creepy when I wrote proses and poetry about her. But then again, anything I do automatically sounds creepy, so it’s a safe bet Mrs. Turunen should have been carrying a can of mace with her at all times. She probably does. Come to think of it, that’s part of the reason why I couldn’t approach anybody in school to be my friend or lover: I didn’t want to unknowingly creep them out. Using Tarja as a comforting mental image was the only safe bet because I knew she would never know me in a million years. In fact, I can pretty much say anything I want about any celebrity on this planet and they’ll never find me. Michael Vick sucks because he tortured puppies. Tarja Turunen is awesome because she makes beautiful music with or without her old band mates. If for some reason she read that, I also hope she reads this next sentence. Tarja, I am not a creep or a stalker. I’ve never been to your house and I don’t follow you on Twitter. Hell, I’ve never been to one of your concerts. But I want you to know that you are still to this day an inspiration to me. Your presence alone has helped me get through so much in my life. For whatever it’s worth, thank you for your gift of music. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get your picture tattooed all over my body like that guy in South America did for Julia Roberts. I’m kidding, of course. Really, I am!

　

***FACE BOOK POST OF THE DAY***

“There’s a new website out there where stalkers get their comeuppance. It’s called Mace Book and the homepage is a total eyesore.”

-Me-

Pre-Paid Rollercoaster Dream

Dreams say a lot about people, even if the message isn’t readily available. For the first time in a while, I had a dream that could actually be explained. It used to be I had weird ass dreams about going back to school or losing my teeth. But this one was something worthy enough for a Garrison’s Library post. I’m dreaming of being at a theme park and wanting to ride a pre-paid rollercoaster. The more money you put in the machine, the faster it will go. Not knowing about this stipulation ahead of time, I put in a quarter and I might as well have been riding on the back of a turtle. When the ride was over, I fished through my wallet for a twenty dollar bill. By the time I found it, the theme park was closed and I didn’t get to go on a fast ride. I told this dream to my sister-in-law Susan and she actually had a good interpretation of what it could mean. The rollercoaster is a representation of my life and the money I put into the machine is the effort I put into improving my life. I put in a quarter and got minimal results. I wanted to put in a twenty dollar bill, but it was too late. Maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me that it’s too late to improve my situation beyond selling 99 cent books on Smash Words. Truth is, I can put any amount of effort into improving my life, it’s all a matter of having the right amount of energy and tolerance for the negatives. But let’s say I didn’t have a twenty dollar bill. I could have just as easily had a hundred dollar bill. A hundred dollars will go a long way in making a rollercoaster ride fast and furious. At the same time, spending a hundred dollars in one place is recklessly wasteful. If I put too much effort into improving my life, I could end up getting hurt. A lot of self-published authors go around the country selling paperbacks out of the trunk of their car. Some of them relentlessly submit their books to traditional publishing houses until they say yes. That would be an example of me spending a hundred dollars on a rollercoaster ride. I don’t have a car, so I have no trunk to sell paperbacks out of. The nearest publishing house that would be remotely interested in looking at my works is in Seattle and I live in Port Orchard. Do I really need to spend a hundred dollars on a rollercoaster ride if it goes so fast I fall out of my seat? If someone would like to tell me what else is there besides shilling my e-books on Good Reads, I’m happy to listen. Until then, I’ve got a whole bunch of quarters burning a hole in my pocket. Maybe some pennies. I might even go full-on crazy and put a wing nut in the machine.

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“It may seem a million miles away, but it gets a little closer everyday. One world is enough for all of us.”

-The Police singing “One World (Not Three)”

"Heaven" by Otherwise

As I’ve said in a previous blog entry about Skillet, I’m not a religious person by any stretch of the imagination. I don’t believe in God and I wouldn’t follow his demanding rules even if he existed. Even so, the concept of heaven has always been special to me. To my way of thinking, heaven isn’t a place we go when we die. It’s an idea. It’s the perfect utopia. My idea of heaven doesn’t necessarily have to do with clouds and harp lessons. It has more to do with a place where I feel like I’m not only welcome, but also wanted. I’ve tried to find heaven in lots of public places. I’ve looked in college classes, bus stations, bars, grocery stores, concert halls, bookstores, and not one of those places could ever be called heaven because nobody even knew I existed. I even tried to look for heaven on the beach. The cool blue water, the gorgeous pink skies, the lovely ladies in bikinis, the fluffy puppies running around, it seems like the perfect place to look for heaven. Even the beach thought I was just an invisible ghost. Could it be that my awkward behavior is keeping devil horns on my head instead of a halo? Or maybe it’s true that heaven doesn’t exist in such shallow place. The only real place I’ve been able to call heaven is my home. At home, I’m free to be myself without any limitations. I can tell as many offensive jokes as I want, I can toss around my liberal beliefs without backlash, I can speak in a monotone voice whenever I’m not feeling energetic, and I can write my stories as frequently as I want to. What does this have to do with literature, you ask? It’s simple. Every character I write about should have their own version of heaven (even if they don’t find it until the end of the story, which is usually all the time). For example, I recently wrote a short story for Good Reads called “Prozac Nation 2”. Dustin Spears is an insensitive boyfriend in a time where sensitivity and love are both needed to cool down his sorrowful girlfriend Morgan Penn. By being a jerk as a last resort, Dustin has taken away Morgan’s version of heaven and she is forced to bear her soul to him in order to get it back. Maybe I was secretly saying negative reinforcement works. I hope not. I hope it doesn’t contradict my reasons for boycotting a TV show called “Friday Night Tykes”. In any event, the story was met with a warm reception, so I’m happy about that. You know what else should be met with a warm reception? The song “Heaven” by Otherwise. Band members Adrian and Ryan Patrick’s idea of heaven was their mutual brother Ivan, who passed away a few years before the song’s release. What can they do to bring Ivan back? Keep his memory alive through their gorgeous song. With Ivan Patrick’s memory alive, the imaginations of Otherwise’s fans will be alive as well. Those are two things that will save us as a society: imagination and love. Rest in peace, Ivan Patrick.

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“I never believed that your soul could be stolen from me. Who can save me from the monster that I used to be? So if you hear me now, won’t you just send me a sign? Do I make you proud? Tell me that I’m doing fine. If I could, I’d fly away. I’d talk to the angels and beg them to please let me stay. ‘Cause heaven, no heaven, I’ll never see. What can I do to bring you back to me?”

-Otherwise singing “Heaven”-