Showing posts with label Environment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Environment. Show all posts

Saturday, April 13, 2019

"Cecil's Pride" by The Hatkoff Family


BOOK TITLE: Cecil’s Pride: The True Story of a Lion King
AUTHORS: The Hatkoff Family
YEAR: 2016
GENRE: Nonfiction
SUBGENRE: Lion Biography
GRADE: Extra Credit

When Cecil the Lion was heartlessly killed by a trophy hunter, it sparked worldwide outrage and rightfully so. The subsequent debate on animal welfare and wildlife conservation led to new laws being put in place to protect future generations of lions. But to fully understand how important these new protections are, we must first understand how Cecil lived his life as the king of his pride. He wasn’t just a random animal. He was a loving protector and a social creature at heart. May he rest peacefully and may his pride continue his majestic bloodline.

Instead of just a barebones biography, Cecil’s story was treated as an actual story with a beginning, middle, and end. He was portrayed as a three-dimensional character with his strengths, flaws, and lovability. He fought other animals when his pride was threatened and he ran away only when necessary. And because lions like Cecil are social creatures, they bond with other prides for the sake of protection. This is a classic storytelling technique: two factions banding together to fight off a stronger villain. And when Cecil is eventually killed, the reader will care that much more about him. It was already an angering story to hear about on the news, but to see it in this book is that much more heartbreaking. Cecil’s portrayal as a regal figure and a dynamic character in a much larger story is what makes this book special enough to deserve an extra credit grade.

In addition to employing storytelling techniques, this book also has an educational side to it. Because these two qualities work side-by-side with each other, it’ll be a guaranteed hit with students of all ages. You’ll learn why lions are important to Africa’s ecosystem. You’ll learn why they attract so many mates at a time. You’ll even learn a few statistics about animal extinction and why conservation is more important now than it has been in the past. Education shouldn’t stop when school is over. You can get more out of this book than just trivial facts. You can learn empathy. You can learn how to be an activist. You can do some good in this world with these forty pages shaping your mind. Put down the hunting rifle. Put down the bow and arrow. The only shooting you should be doing is with a high shutter speed camera.

Speaking of which, the lion photographs in this book are magnificent to look at. Cecil looks like a proud king when he watches over his families. His cubs look like little cuties when they practice their roars. His lionesses look seductive when lying about with their mates. Cecil even looks alert and ready to protect his pack when he’s doing something as mundane as drinking from the river. The African landscape is more than just a place for wild animals to do battle. It’s a kingdom. It’s an empire. It’s a society that must be protected from the cruelty of guns and crossbows. These pictures do the lions justice a hundred times over. Even the drawings have that kind of power over the reader.

It’s easy to balk at this book for being targeted towards small children. There are also a few who will contrast Cecil’s death to those of aborted fetuses. There are even those who question why lion lives matter to begin with. To those who would easily brush this book aside, I say give it one chance to change your heart. It’s forty pages and it’s mostly pictures. You’re not sacrificing much when picking this book up for a quick read. If anything, you’ll be better off for the experience. Keep your eyes and mind open and you’ll want to give this book an extra credit grade as well.

Thursday, September 13, 2018

"Double Whammy" by Carl Hiaasen


BOOK TITLE: Double Whammy
AUTHOR: Carl Hiaasen
YEAR: 1987
GENRE: Fiction
SUBGENRE: Environmental Thriller
GRADE: Pass

In the always wacky state of Florida, RJ Decker is a private investigator trying to make ends meet and his latest assignment fetches a high price. He’s assigned by an arrogant sports fisherman named Dennis Gault to catch his rival Dickie Lockhart cheating in a high stakes fishing tournament. What seems like an easy assignment quickly escalates into a murder conspiracy involving a psychotic eco-terrorist, a seductive blackmailer, and a shady televangelist to name a few. Nobody is safe from this chaotic form of storytelling and that’s the way Carl Hiaasen likes it.

One thing I will always love about Mr. Hiaasen’s books is how reliable he is when it comes to delivering the goods. I haven’t read a bad Hiaasen book yet and Double Whammy is no exception to the rule. It’s especially refreshing to read considering a previous book I read from another author was so god awful that I couldn’t make it past the halfway mark. There are plenty of aspects to choose from when it comes to liking a Hiaasen book: extensive knowledge of the law, colorful characters, satisfying comeuppances, or just being hooked until the very end (not unlike the twenty-plus pound bass the fishermen in this tournament are trying to catch).

When it comes to colorful characters, there are none more colorful than Clinton Tyree a.k.a. Skink. This former governor of Florida wanted to run his state the honest way, which meant refusing money from special interest groups and never selling out his democratic beliefs. And then he was forced out of office by his corrupt opponents and went delightfully insane. Now a drifting eco-terrorist, he runs around in a shower cap and rain suit looking for creative ways to dismantle his opponents. If this already sounds like a wonderfully-written profile to you, you’re in luck, because Skink is a recurring character throughout most of Carl Hiaasen’s catalogue.

And of course, wherever there’s Skink, black highway patrolman Jim Tile isn’t far behind. Don’t worry, because Jim Tile and Skink are actually close friends who help each other out for the common good. Mr. Tile takes a lot of racially-charged abuse from the people he pulls over on the highway, yet he maintains his cool and serious demeanor through it all. He doesn’t use force unless it’s absolutely necessary, in which case, his amateur wrestling background will come in handy for turning a racist redneck’s arm into a wet noodle. To be honest, we need more cops like Jim Tile and less murderers like Darren Wilson. If black readers ever need a hero to look up to, they can always rely on Jim Tile to be their role model.

Thank you, Carl Hiaasen, for bringing me another fantastic crime novel and thank you for being a constant influence on my own writing. There’s a reason why you’re one of my favorites. In fact, there are many reasons, but I won’t name them all lest this brief review turn into a novel itself (and not a novel as entertaining as Double Whammy). I’ve made it a personal goal of mine to read through Mr. Hiaasen’s entire catalogue. I’ve already blitzed through over half of it, so getting through the rest is going to be easy-breezy-lemon-squeezy. A passing grade will go to this delightful and fun novel!

Tuesday, January 9, 2018

Backwoods Barbarian

***BACKWOODS BARBARIAN***

With American Darkness 3 suspended and Poison Tongue Tales 3 not even a possibility, I need something to work on to keep me busy and to keep my creative juices flowing. I originally wanted to do a modern day drama about fat-shaming called “Hulk Logan”, but I couldn’t pre-write it past the fifth chapter. I was hesitant to do the story I’m going to talk about in this blog entry, but then I realized something along the way. Though it could be categorized as fantasy, it’s actually a deconstruction of the violent messes Poison Tongue Tales, Demon Axe, and Occupy Wrestling have been. Yes, this new story will have plenty of fight scenes, but they’re not a means to an end.

I’m talking of course about Backwoods Barbarian, an environmental fantasy I’ve developed all the way to chapter twenty. Yeah, I know, everything has to be about barbarians. All barbarians 24/7. It’s all I ever think about, yada, yada, yada. What good is a barbarian’s rage if he keeps losing his fights and getting himself into trouble? This barbarian can’t win with brute force alone, because there are other fighters out there who are more powerful than him, particularly a dwarf monk named Sabin Rex and a werewolf assassin named Gray Miller (both characters I’ve used in past stories).

Who is this barbarian? Well, he’s not Deus Shadowheart. He’s not Brutus Warcry, either. In fact, if I reveal his name, it might be a tad upsetting to the originator of this character given how the barbarian was once used as a killing machine D&D character. His name is Agrusk Xis and he’s an orc who makes his solitary home in the woods.

He was once owned by an online friend named Timothy. He was also a former character in an attempted dark fantasy novel of mine in 2014 called Fireball Nightmare. I asked Tim if it was okay to use Agrusk in that manner and he said yes. Given Agrusk’s new role as a bumbling brute, Tim could possibly want to think twice about letting me use his character. If he wants me to withdraw Agrusk from Backwoods Barbarian, I’ll gladly do so and swap him out with another character.

If Tim should happen to say yes once again, then Agrusk will be a part of something greater than himself whether he uses brute force or not. As I’ve already established, Agrusk is an orc barbarian who lives in the woods hunting meat and picking fruit. His forest home is about to be chopped down for urban development thanks to the political strategy of Flora City Mayor Annette Cote. Agrusk just wants peace and quiet in his forest home, so he tries to muscle his way into keeping his solitary residence. Needless to say, he’s overpowered and outmanned.

Agrusk meets two environmental protesters along the way: an Amazonian Viking “singer” named Johnna Larson and a bagpipe-playing bard named Julie Piper. Throughout the novel, they teach him that using debate tactics and peaceful protest is more powerful at affecting change than anything he could do with an axe. The whole novel is one big internal battle between Agrusk and his conscience. Can he keep his temper under control or this hothead screw everything up with one moment of impatient rage?

I’ve tooled with the idea of an environmental fantasy before where the plot centered around the government cutting down somebody’s forest home for urban development. I wrote a 2010 D&D-style movie script called Tree Party Nation, where the forest was an eco-terrorist group’s base of operations. As I’ve mentioned earlier, in 2014 I wrote Fireball Nightmare, where the often-recycled Gary-Stu barbarian Deus Shadowheart protected the forest under the command of a living volcano. It’s 2018 and the third time will be the charm. Backwoods Barbarian will be the one that gets this concept right. Watching a “Terrible Writing Advice” You Tube video on environmentalism helped me figure things out.

So that’s it for now. Backwoods Barbarian is officially my next long-term project. It’ll be a departure from what I usually do (barbarism aside), especially considering that I’m shooting for 2,000 words per chapter instead of 1.500 like I normally do. At twenty chapters, that’s an even 40,000 words, which is the generally accepted minimum for a full-length novel. Wish me luck, guys. We’ve got ears, say cheers!


***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

JERRY: Hey George, ask that guy what street we’re on.

GEORGE: Excuse me, where are we?

STRANGER: Earth.

JERRY: Hey, we’re on the phone with the police!


-Seinfeld-

Thursday, November 9, 2017

King of Elves and Trees

Every strike of the axe against the Black Forest trees sent a shiver of rage up and down Saito Kabaka’s spine. The gigantic lumberjack’s swings created the deepest wooshing noises and seemed capable of tearing off a person’s head with one slice. But instead of human heads, the massive battleaxe chipped away quickly and efficiently at the thick redwoods. Saito watched from the bushes with a contorted frown, dying on the inside with every chop. This was ecocide. This was murder. The lumberjack wasn’t just chopping down trees; he was violating the spirits of this very forest.

After a while of nausea and gritted teeth, Saito couldn’t stand idly by any longer. When the elf samurai chucked one of his daggers, he forgot instantly that this man-beast was twice his size and ten times as lethal. The dagger missed its mark, but the flannel shirt and jeans wearing titan stumbled back a few paces and sucked in air at a rapid cadence. Saito’s fiery eyes bore a hole through the giant’s nervous baby blues. Decked out in golden leather armor, donning a glowing green crown of plant roots, and drawing his slender katana, the forest guardian made his presence and fury known.

“I don’t intrude into your home and eat your food. I don’t laze on your bed and fuck your wife. I don’t snatch your valuables from underneath your booger-encrusted schnoz. So why then do you believe it’s acceptable to come to my home and cut down my trees?” asked Saito while pointing his blade at the lumberjack. He slashed at the air and continued his slithery oratory with, “This forest is not your urban dystopia. It doesn’t exist so that you could build fancy hotels and burger joints for overfed human scumbags! Take that piece of shit you call a weapon and leave this place before I rip your intestines out and lynch you with them from the same tree you tried to cut down!”

The baldheaded beast of a man’s eyes darted frantically in every direction while cold sweat poured down his forehead. And then the shtick was over when he laughed his ass off and slapped his thick knees with an echoing thud. “Are you kidding me? A teeny tiny elf like you is going to lynch me with my own intestines? Goddamn, you’re a funny motherfucker!” The yuks poured out of his mouth like verbal diarrhea as he struggled to say, “Listen, man: that environmental bullshit is overrated. Take off that stupid hat; it looks fucking ridiculous on you! You might as well walk around with a salad bowl on your head!”

The lumberjack’s chuckle-filled tirade was cut off by a flying shuriken that narrowly missed his ear. But instead of feigning fear again, he dropped his axe and gave an even less sincere double slap on his cheeks with a wide open mouth.

“Perfect timing, Tifa, as usual,” smiled Saito. Floating down to the dirt like a feather was the silken dress wearing, golden haired female elf counterpart Tifa Croft, armed with claw bracers around her wrists and wearing a plant root crown like her fellow guardian. The two of them shared a peck on the lips much to the overdramatic coughing dismay of the seven-foot lumberjack.

“You guys actually fuck in this forest?” the man giant asked. “Is that how these trees grow, by the two of you sprinkling your seeds all over the ground?”
Tifa folded her arms and treated the lumberjack to a ball-shrinking death stare. “You have the sense of humor of a fucking five year old and probably the intelligence of one too. Saito here is the King of Elves and Trees and I am his Queen. Respect the crowns, you ignorant little shit!”

The lumberjack waved his arm dismissively and scoffed, “Well, I see a whole lot of trees out here, but very many elves, so I guess this ugly ass forest could do with some urban development.” He heaved his axe in the air and pointed at various parts of the forest with his weapon. “We can put a Mickey D’s over there, a Chicas Bonitas over there, and maybe a school all the way over there. You liberal whack jobs like schools, right?”

Saito swung his katana in the air and slithered, “And what do you plan on teaching this new generation of ignoramuses: how to eat a whole bucket of fried chicken in less than thirty seconds? Maybe that’s something you can teach the elves of this forest, who will be here sooner than you think.”

“You’d better hope those little pointy-eared fags run for the hills,” smirked the lumberjack while leaning his face into Saito’s. “I wasn’t planning on committing genocide today, but I just might change my mind if the two of you don’t fuck off and leave me to my work. I’m getting a lot of money for this project and I’ll be damned if you two hippies rip it away from me and my family! Remember the name of Rudiger Seran, but fuck it, you two are going to call me Daddy by the time I’m done with you!”

Rudiger threw the first swing of his axe and would have covered the whole forest in blood if Saito and Tifa didn’t duck out of the way in time. The two elves rolled and flipped their way out of every slash that the giant threw. They bounced off of trees hand in hand and found refuge at the top branches. They smiled down upon Rudiger while the lumberjack shouted, “You two cowards better get your asses down here and fight me before I cut this fucker down!”

Saito whispered in Tifa’s pointy ear, “You’ve got the supplies up here right?”

The lovely assassin brushed her hair away and pulled several pinecones out of an otherwise empty bird nest. She grinned, “It wouldn’t be the same without them.” With a wink, a nod, and a kiss, Tifa threw one of the pinecones down upon an unsuspecting Rudiger. The biomass exploded in a flash bang upon making contact with Mr. Seran’s thick skull. The giant hopped and head-banged in pain while belting every swear word known in the English language.

“You’re the best queen a man could ask for,” grinned Saito as he and Tifa threw more flash bang pinecones down upon their assailant. Rudiger tried to smack some of them away like he was playing baseball and managed to hit a few homers out in the distance. Others bounced off of his massive arms and legs while popping like firecrackers. The mighty Seran had struck out and his body ached with redness and scars. The King and Queen hugged each other and laughed like children.

Bruised skin wasn’t the only reason Rudiger was seeing red. He growled through clenched teeth and smacked himself on the cheek so many times he actually bled. His rage became evident in the way he swung his axe at the tree, ripping larger chunks out of the redwood and creating deeper wooshing noises. “Uh-oh!” Tifa quipped while she and Saito held hands and leapt to the next tree just in time for Rudiger’s ecocidal victim to crash to the ground.

Saito’s heart pounded in his chest like a war drum and the cold wetness of Tifa’s hand brought chills racing through his own body. She shook slightly and prompted the king to ask, “Are you okay, my love?”

“I…I think so,” Tifa stuttered before the branch underneath her cracked and crunched, causing her to drop to the forest ground with a resounding thud  Saito tried to hold out his hand and grab her, but all he could do was yell, “No!” as his wife crashed and burned. She lied there in the dirt breathing heavily and coughing up a geyser of blood.

Rudiger hung his battleaxe over his shoulder and strutted around Tifa with a shit-eating grin. “I guess that vegan diet isn’t helping you lose enough weight. And people call me a fat ass!” joked the lumberjack while slapping his knee and chuckling again.

Watching Rudiger Seran belittle his wife clouded Saito’s mind with scathing, bloody thoughts. As defenseless as she was, she still threw her claws around in the air hoping to hit something. Her weakness multiplied when Rudiger stomped on Tifa’s hand and crunched it so that it sounded more violent than when he whacked down the tree. Her screams of agony and shame echoed throughout the forest and caused nearby birds to fly away in fear. She tried to slash Rudiger’s thick ankles with her other claw, but that got stomped on too until there was just a bloody heap underneath his work boots.

Saito tried to remain calm and wait for his perfect opportunity to stealthily strike. But Tifa’s screams filled his gut with nuclear heat. Rudiger’s arrogant laughter filled his nerves with flaming gasoline. The more his heart pumped diesel, the more he forgot about the importance of his samurai training. With katana firmly grasped in both hands, he screamed like a demon and leapt on top of Rudiger with the intent to slash him in two vertically.

Saito could feel the ground hurtling at him at a million miles per hour. The landing was going to break his ankles, but not nearly as badly as he was going to break every bone in Rudiger’s body. And then the lumberjack swung his axe and snapped Saito in two from the waist down. The elf samurai could hear his wife roaring his name in pain as his vision went black and his wrecked body bounced off the tree with a deafening splat.

Even as what was left of him slid slowly and slimily down the tree, he could recall Rudiger asking in a mocking tone where all of the elves were at. The now pouring rain soothed Saito’s burning wounds, but it was already too late for the King of Elves and Trees.

The plant root crown slipped off of his sloppy skull and buried itself into the earth below. The rain poured down violently enough to represent the emotions of Mother Nature herself. She continued to weep as Rudiger thoughtlessly cut down more and more of her trees with vicious whacks while mocking her with cries of, “Where are your elves now, bitch?!” Tears of ecocidal agony turned into monsoons and floods. The crowns formerly worn by Tifa and Saito were drenched with nutrition as they began to take root underneath the forest.

The more Rudiger laughed his ass off, the more the roots spread across the ground. Even in the chilling rain, the arrogant giant chopped and chopped like his paycheck was that important too him. Trees crashed to the earth with sickening pounds, so much so that Rudiger was almost done with his work. But as he jokingly wiped away forehead sweat, he took a look around him and saw that his work was only just beginning.

“What the fuck?” he whispered as the tree stumps grew even more beautiful plants. Not redwoods, not roses, not berry-covered bushes, but the one species Rudiger kept asking for this entire time. Ask and ye shall receive in the form of naked green-skinned elves with blistering red eyes and thorn-covered swords. One by one they blossomed from the stumps and groaned like an army of zombies. Rudiger dropped his axe and cowered on the soaked ground, shivering for reasons other than the temperature.


The pathetic display did nothing to back off the hungry doppelganger elves as they chanted in monstrous unison, “You will feed us! You will feed us! You will feed us!” They closer they marched, the brighter their neon red eyes glowed and the more Rudiger shivered and quaked in his clumsy body. And then, the King and Queen’s beloved army of avengers dined upon the giant’s flesh like the entire menu at one of the lumberjack’s planned Mickey D’s. Rudiger’s flesh tasted more delicious than chocolate cake, meatier than a twenty-pound steak, and juicier than a bottle of Ocean Spray. So much for that vegan diet that Tifa Croft always enjoyed.

Friday, August 18, 2017

The Chicken Shit Scale

***THE CHICKEN SHIT SCALE***

Just to clarify, no, this journal topic has nothing to do with the last topic, which was about cowardly villains. It’s about a certain idiom we’ve all heard at least one point in our lives: “Making chicken salad out of chicken shit”. In other words, it’s a blunt way of saying that you’re going to make the best out of a bad situation. Sometimes you can make a delicious salad, other times you’ve still got a big heaping plate of chicken shit.

I know this because back in 2006, I tried to make chicken salad out of chicken shit with a movie script previously called Pumping Filter. It was drenched with violence and slurs that made absolutely no sense in that context, so I took the script to a woman named Heather for evaluation. Despite the fact that we couldn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things and our professional relationship was a complete failure, Pumping Filter, now called Snakes in a Cage, was slightly better because of her critiques. Unfortunately, the newly christened Snakes in a Cage has been deleted from my archives because in the end it was still a heaping pile of chicken shit. A lot of my past creative writing projects have met this fate and perhaps the silver lining in all of this is that they are learning experiences I will have forever.

Today in 2017, I face the chicken shit dilemma once again. As many of you know, I’m currently shooting towards finishing three different anthologies for publication: American Darkness 2 (contemporary drama), Poison Tongue Tales 2 (sci-fi, fantasy, and horror), and the newly christened Lunatic Justice (dark poetry and heavy metal songs). I also have three first draft novels that I finished a long time ago that need to be looked at: Filter Feeder (environmental fantasy), Watch You Burn (psychological fantasy), and Demon Axe (musical fantasy).

When I eventually put the finishing touches on the anthologies, that will be when I present my beautiful beta reader Marie Krepps with choices as to what she wants to work on. I’m not saying I’m incapable of making my own decisions or that my love of surprises has spiraled out of control. I’m saying that some of these first drafts are better than others (despite the fact that all first drafts by their very nature suck ass). The question I need to ask myself is, which ones are easier to fix and which ones will completely drain me?

In an effort to answer this question, I came up with something called The Chicken Shit Scale, where I rank my first drafts on a scale of one to six, where one is the worst rough draft (and therefore needs a LOT of work) and six is the best (easy breezy lemon squeezy). Is it better to make chicken salad out of chicken shit or is it better to make more diamonds out of…well…diamonds! Sorry, that last analogy sucked, which doesn’t help my case for making the most out of a bad situation. Anyways, here are my rankings for my first drafts:

  1. Filter Feeder
  2. Watch You Burn
  3. Demon Axe
  4. Poison Tongue Tales 2
  5. American Darkness 2
  6. Lunatic Justice

I want you to notice that I’ve grouped the novels, short story anthologies, and the singular poetry collection separately. In my experience, short stories and poetry are easier to correct than a full-fledged novel since there aren’t as many variables to deal with. I put Filter Feeder on the bottom of the list because…well…have you seen it lately? It was written a long time ago, so naturally the more recent ones, Watch You Burn and Demon Axe, are going to overwhelmingly outrank it. American Darkness 2 outranks Poison Tongue Tales 2 because I feel like with the latter I’m writing the same story over and over again with different characters are different circumstances. It’s the same ass beating on repeat, which is pretty much what WWE is, but I watch that weekly anyways. Lunatic Justice ranks the highest because people seem to love my poetry anyways, as noted by the grades reviewers have given my previous poetry books Confessions of a Schizophrenic Savage and Necrograph (I swear I’m not trying to stroke myself…maybe).

When the last three items on the list are complete, then that would be a good time to recruit Marie’s services so that I can have a singular focus in my creative work (editing). I know she’s been pretty busy lately and money isn’t coming easy for her, so that’s why I’m treading lightly with this one. To be honest, I’ll pay her whatever she wants because it’ll be worth it in the end. I trust her judgment no matter what the project is. Plus, she’s got a wicked sense of humor. Regarding the “magic wand” joke in the Poison Tongue Tales story Streetwalker, she said, “I’d rather get raped than listen to another one of [Ryan Brock’s] stupid jokes.” She’s brutally honest, but she’s right on the money with that one. Did I mention I trust her completely?

So what will it be? Will I make chicken salad out of chicken shit or will I…uh…uh…make golden earrings out of gold? (What the fuck was that?) We’ve got ears, say cheers!


***CREATIVE WORK***

Besides this journal, I haven’t done any creative work today, so nothing has changed since the Cowardly Villains blog. I might as well put on my “Please Don’t Make Me Do Stuff” T-shirt, because that’s how I feel today.


***MUSIC JOKE OF THE DAY***

Q: What does the lead singer of In This Moment say every time she does a commercial for underwear?

A: Even in these Hanes you can’t Jockey.


***POST-SCIRPT***


If you can make chicken salad out of that chicken shit joke, by all means, go for it. Hehe!

Friday, August 4, 2017

Blue Sky Blues

VERSE 1
You think the skies are your personal toilet?
You think you can heat the ocean and boil it?
You think your actions have no consequences?
You think we can solve this problem with fences?
Breathing the cleanest air is a god-given right
It never should have come to a verbal fight
It never should have resulted in casualties
That you bury in the ground so casually

CHORUS
More smoke in the air than a hookah bar
More poison in the water with oily tar
More politicians who don’t give a shit
These are blue sky blues, not a comedy bit

VERSE 2
Gas masks are not a fashion trend setter
Bigger trucks will not make things better
Lead doesn’t belong anywhere near water
You’ve led us all to the fucking slaughter
You answer to the world, owe them everything
You talk a lot, but haven’t said anything
As long as your bank account continues to grow
You’ll never be wrong, what the fuck do we know?

EXTENDED CHORUS 1
More smoke in the air than a hookah bar
More poison in the water with oily tar
More politicians who don’t give a shit
These are blue sky blues, not a comedy bit
Coal country blues, not a sitcom scene
Steel country blues, so fucking obscene
Pipeline blues, covering rivers in black
Blue sky blues, earth is under attack

BRIDGE
Climate change is as real as it gets
The safest bet, get paid until death
It’s not too late to clean this mess
This will be your ultimate test

EXTENDED CHORUS 2
More smoke in the air than a hookah bar
More poison in the water with oily tar
More politicians who don’t give a shit
These are blue sky blues, not a comedy bit
Drill baby drill, more people to kill
This ain’t no hoax, this is real, folks
The planet will drag you to hell with it

Find a cure for this pollution sickness

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

The Geomancer

Getting away from the madness of city life was exactly what Ally Bennett needed when she went on this hiking trip. Not a single soul dared to venture up these mountains and that was just the way Miss Bennett liked it. She was dressed for the boiling hot weather with her hiking boots, tan shorts, and tight camouflage T-shirt. Sweat poured off her brow, arms, and legs like a fire hydrant, but she didn’t give two shits and a flying fuck in a rolling donut. Her long brunette hair felt sticky, but that was yet another small price for the sake of introverted physical fitness. She lived for the beauty of Mother Nature no matter what the weather was like.

Just when she thought she was alone at the top of the mountain, she saw something that made her drop her hiking staff to the rocky ground. “What the hell?” she silently said to herself as she noticed a man dressed in green and blue wizard robes chanting in tongues while holding out his hands in a Jesus Christ pose. Ally’s first thought was to run back down the mountain screaming like hell. But this mysterious being was just like a car crash: she couldn’t look away no matter how much she wanted to.

The mystical chant ended when the blue haired being turned his head and gave Ally a look of venomous scorn. “You have no business up here, woman. Turn around and leave if you value your life!”

“First of all, dumb shit,” said Ally with her hands on her hips. “This is a national fucking park. Everybody’s welcome here no matter how weird they look in those god awful clothes of yours. Second of all, my name is not woman. It’s Ally. Ally Bennett.”

“Bryan Valencia,” said the wizard. “Nice to meet you, Miss Bennett. Now that the sappy introductions are over, I suggest you get going before shit starts going down!”

“Okay, Mr. Wizard Guy, that sounded a little bit like a threat, so I’m just going to pull out my cell phone and dial 9-1-1…what the hell are you doing?!” Ally never got the chance to press the buttons on her smart phone as she was stunned by Bryan’s geomantic powers. With wide-eyed horror, she watched him raise his palm in the air and levitate a large rock off the ground. The floating rock was hurled into Ally’s cell phone, shattering the gizmo into tiny fragments while giving Ally a red mark on her hand and a reason to scream “Ow! Jesus!”

As the hiker shook out the pain in her palm, Bryan smiled at her and said, “Do I have your attention now? Would you like another demonstration of how badly I can crush you? That rock trick was just child’s play compared to the damage I’m capable of.”

Clutching her hand to sooth the pain, Ally asked, “Who the hell are you, anyways? I know you said your name was Bryan and all that, but what the fuck, man? You’re lifting rocks off the ground, you’re dressed like you’re going to a nerd convention, you’ve got blue fucking hair, I don’t know what to believe anymore!”

“All of those things you so ignorantly described are the traits of a geomancer,” said Bryan.

“Geo what?”

“Geomancer. I control the elements of the earth. If I want an earthquake, I’ll give you one. If I want a mudslide, you’ve got it. But then I figured, why stop there? Earthquakes and mudslides are tinker toys. To really get in touch with Mother Nature, I have to be right here at the top of this mountain. A mountain, which by the way, was at one point an active volcano. You ever wonder why nobody comes up here? Well, let’s just say they’re not fast enough to run away from the lava, like the idiot brain surgeon politician once said. I swear to god, the ignorance of your people is mind-boggling,” ranted Bryan.

“So this is it, huh?” said Ally in a stern voice. “You’re going to blow up this damn volcano just to show everyone who’s boss. You’re such a noble guy.”

With his fists at his side, Bryan roared, “What do you know about nobility?!” The sudden crescendo caused Ally to bounce backward in fear. “Why do you think people go on hiking trips to begin with? To get away from it all. Well, I’m not getting away from anything. I’m confronting the sins of this world dead on. Don’t you ever get sick of the world sometimes? All the violence, all the rape, all the bigotry, all the zeal. The poor are disenfranchised while those in charge get a slap on the wrist. Women are treated as sex objects while men laugh at their misery. Dropping bombs has become the new diplomacy. Well, if it’s bombs you want, I’ll drop the biggest one mankind has ever seen! My decades of geomantic studies have come down to this! And there’s nothing you can do about it!”

“Actually, there is something I can do about it,” said Ally with her arms folded and a death stare on her face.

“And what would that be?” asked Bryan mockingly. “I already shattered your cell phone, so the cops aren’t even close to coming. As far as I know, you don’t have geomantic powers of your own, so striking you down with a thousand stones would be the easiest part of my day. So what other options do you have? What could you possibly do that will stop me from exacting revenge on this world?”

“Call you out on your bullshit, that’s what,” said Ally. Bryan’s facial features and fierce stance softened at the hiker’s stubbornness. “Being against all of those violent things that you’ve listed is noble in its own right. You’d be crazy not to be. It’s like being in favor of kittens and rainbows. Up with puppies! But what good is being against the sins of the world if you’re committing one right now? You’re not a hero to anybody. You’re a hypocrite! Your volcanic blast will take out all of those rich assholes and male chauvinists you hate so much, but it’ll also take out those sexualized women and innocent children that you claim to have a soft spot for. By blowing this volcano, you’ll be no different from the politicians who drop bombs on helpless civilians overseas. Is that the mark you want to leave on this world? Do you want to be a hypocrite?!”

Bryan tucked his head in shame as if those words stung him like a scorpion’s tail. He spent lengthy seconds in what appeared to be silent and deep contemplation. He lifted his head once more, but this time with the same hardened expression as when he started his spell. “You’re so full of shit! How dare you question my tactics! You really think the innocents want to live in a world run by these rich lunatics? Consider this a mercy killing, my friend!”

Something inside Ally Bennett snapped. She grabbed her walking cane and held it like a samurai warrior ready to strike. Her muscles twitched. Her eyes were wild with fiery anger. Her teeth were clenched hard enough to chew through steel. Every word she spoke was full of vitriol and hatred. “If you’re not going to listen to reason, then I’m going to make you! You’re not going to do shit to this world! If I’m going down, I’m going down fighting! This world is worth saving and you’re not going to do shit about it!”

Bryan raised his hands and levitated an entire wall of rocks off the ground, but Ally remained strong and defiant in the face of this new challenge. The geomancer threatened, “You just made the biggest mistake of your life, you crazy bitch! Prepare to die!”

The wizard rained down a storm of rocks upon Ally, hoping to crush her bones into the same fineness as the dirt below. Even with sharp stones piercing her skin, the undeterred hiker swung her cane like a baseball bat and knocked a few of them into Bryan’s throat. While Ally was buried and bloodied underneath a pile of rocks, Bryan Valencia clutched his windpipe while gasping for air. He danced around in pain trying to get his oxygen back, but made a critical mistake when he fell off the ledge of the mountain and rolled down the hill.

The geomancer bumped into many large stones, trees, and sharp grass blades during his barrel roll down the side of the mountain. His spine crunched in two, his arms and legs were shattered beyond repair, and his head exploded with his brains scattered across the landscape. By the time he reached the bottom, he was already a necromantic supper for a family of bears, who feasted on his carcass like the wild animals they were. Nothing was left of Bryan Valencia except for bones and tiny chunks of meat and shit.

Back at the top of the mountain, Ally Bennett stayed buried beneath the rocks like it was going to be her grave. She hadn’t moved for the longest time and her bloody limbs squeezed fresh juice to trickle down the mountain. After what seemed like ages, her fingers twitched and her dirt-covered eyes barely opened.


At that moment she knew she couldn’t run away from the world’s problems like she intended to do in this hike. She was a hero that day for what she did to Bryan Valencia. Her work was far from over. If she was going to join the resistance against oppressive values, she couldn’t do it through volcanoes, earthquakes, or any other form of terrorism. It’s like a famous first lady once said: “When they go low, you go high.” It didn’t get any higher than the top of a volcanic mountain. It didn’t get any lower than being a human buffet table for a family of brown bears.

Saturday, April 22, 2017

"A Nose For Justice" by Rita Mae Brown

BOOK TITLE: A Nose For Justice
AUTHOR: Rita Mae Brown
YEAR: 2010
GENRE: Fiction
SUBGENRE: Cozy Mystery
GRADE: Pass

On a frosty winter in Reno, Nevada, former Wall Street executive Mags Rogers moves in with her great aunt Jeep Reed and brings along her wire-haired dachshund Baxter. During her stay, she becomes entangled in a mystery that involves blown up water pumps and dead bodies. Deputy Pete Meadows and his partner Lonnie investigate these strange events and unravel a conspiracy dealing with water rights, environmentalism, and land purchasing. The entire political landscape of Nevada is at stake and the killer must be found before everything descends into chaos.

As to be expected with a title like “A Nose For Justice”, you’re going to see some animal cuteness during your reading journey. I’ve already mentioned the little dachshund Baxter, but there’s also a bigger puppy-duppy named King, owned by Jeep Reed. The two dogs start off as distrustful strangers, but over time they form a much needed friendship in order to help unravel this water rights conspiracy. They run around together, they nibble on steak bones, they sleep by each other, and they even play in important role in the conclusion of the story, though I won’t give away how. While it’s true that the dogs aren’t seen as often as Pete Meadows and the Reed/Rogers family, you can’t help but want to reach through the pages and rub the dogs’ heads and bellies. They’ve certainly earned it.

The political and historical content is another upside to this story, though some reviewers argue that Miss Brown is too preachy. I don’t believe that’s the case. The lessons she teaches feel more like a college history class rather than a Sunday sermon. She reminds us all how precious water is and how it shouldn’t be squandered so easily. We think we’re going to have it forever, but in places like Nevada, characters in this book would commit acts of terrorism and murder for it, especially if money is involved. Extremism, big business, environmentalism, and even LGBT rights are among the topics discussed in this novel. These topics are handled with sensitivity and the points in favor or against them are made with the skill of a world class debater. You don’t have to agree with everything Rita Mae Brown’s characters talk about, but you’d better listen and give the author a chance.

The final high point I want to talk about is the characters and how quirky and lovable they really are. Mags Rogers is a woman trying to get back on her own two feet and you genuinely want to root for her all the way. Jeep Reed is a salty, but warm-hearted war veteran with more wisdom in her pinky finger than most businessmen and politicians have in their whole bodies. Pete Meadows is a true professional when it comes to his work as a cop; he asks the right questions and evokes the right emotions from his interviewees. Pete even has a little bit of a crush on Mags and she feels the same way. At first they tiptoe around each other, but when they come together for the good of the case and for the sake of true romance, you genuinely feel the love. Even the minor characters are worth investing your emotions into since they’re friendly small town folks you’d want to have as neighbors. There are also characters you love to hate, but I’m here to pick the flowers, not the weeds.


If you’re looking for a well-orchestrated detective novel with a crafty mystery, poignant wisdom, and lovable puppy-dups, pick up a copy of “A Nose For Justice”. At first I was hesitant about reading this since the last Rita Mae Brown book I read (Wish You Were Here) made me feel old due to its small town stereotypes. A Nose For Justice might feel that way for the first few pages, but if patience is one of your virtues, then I encourage you to read on and enjoy this book for the well-written prose it is. A passing grade goes to this amazing author. Great work!

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

Moana

MOVIE TITLE: Moana
DIRECTORS: Ron Clements and John Musker
YEAR: 2016
GENRE: Children’s Animation
RATING: G
GRADE: Pass

In ancient Polynesia, the demigod Maui steals a gem from the island goddess, unwittingly causing a lava demon to rise from the sea and spread a disease across the islands. Motunui is the latest target of this blight when its crops and fishes are dying rapidly. A future chieftain girl named Moana must now sail across the ocean and convince Maui to return the stolen gem to the island goddess. When Maui’s arrogance and Moana’s stubbornness clash, the quest to save the world becomes jeopardized. But the more time this unlikely team spends together, the more they get used to each other’s company, giving them a better chance of righting Maui’s wrongs.

Seeing as how Maui is a muscular human with a barbed wit and heroic athleticism, it only makes sense that Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson provides his voice. Fans of WWE know how good of a trash talker he was and fans of his Hollywood resume know how much of a warrior he can be. Whether he’s a WWE champion, a GI Joe soldier with a chain gun, an FBI agent with an insanely fast car, or a self-centered demigod with a magical fish hook that’s bigger than he is, The Rock is a certified stud no matter what role he takes. He’s energetic, he’s hilarious, and he never misses a beat. I wouldn’t want anybody else taking the role of Maui. It just wouldn’t be right. The Rock’s performance is dead-on and justifiable of his million dollar salary.

Another thing I enjoyed about this movie was the environmental overtones. Yes, the fantasy elements such as the mystical gem and the lava monster don’t fit in with modern day politics, but the message is still the same: treat mother earth with respect and she’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted. If you take too much from her or abuse her in any way, you’re going to feel her wrath. Only take as many fish as you need, plant crops with abundance, and keep the animals and plant-life safe. It’s a simple message that doesn’t get heard enough. Think of Moana as a Disney-animated fantasy version of a Carl Hiaasen novel. Sure, Mr. Hiaasen’s novels don’t have lava monsters, but sometimes the worst monsters are the more realistic ones, like humans.

The final thing I want to touch on is the beauty of the Polynesian world in which Disney created. The clear blue water of the ocean looks like a lot of fun to drink and swim in. The palm tree forests and sandy beaches are vacation-worthy, which is funny considering I watched this movie on a Mexican cruise ship. The character designs are also lovable whether it’s the overly stupid chicken Heihei, the cuddly piggy baby that lives on Moana’s island, or even the gigantic gold and jewel-encrusted crab who’s holding Maui’s magical fishhook hostage. This is a world I wouldn’t mind living in despite the blight spreading across the islands. I would go swimming every day and eat fish until the end of time. Maybe I would even cuddle with Heihei and the piggy. Aww!


Moana is a beautifully executed movie with more high points than I’m capable of listing in this short review. If you like strong female characters, you’ll love the title protagonist. If you like beautiful scenery, you’ll love this movie as a whole. If you love comedic conversations, look no further than Dwayne Johnson and his portrayal of Maui. I would be hard pressed to find a single flaw within this movie. Yes, I know this movie has received a lot of criticism from the Polynesian community, but I prefer to enjoy a good movie instead of dwell in negativity. A passing grade goes to this lovely piece of children’s cinema!

Tuesday, November 1, 2016

Hero

VERSE 1
Screaming into a phone doesn’t make you a hero
Saying otherwise means your IQ is a solid zero
Any coward can offend from miles away
Any moron can change his face and name
But in order to have a solid steel spinal cord
You’ve got to be prepared for a fistfight war
You hide behind lawyers and sympathetic judges
And wonder why the public holds violent grudges

CHORUS 1
I see no bravery among you criminals
Your valor is at the very best minimal
Lock your asses up and throw away the key
Even heroes know when it’s time to flee

VERSE 2
Blasting a sound cannon at a crowd of protesters
Ensures your status as the corporate protectors
You represent the evil you’re trying to fight
You make the streets dangerous to walk at night
The irony is killing me like a rubber bullet
We’re buried underneath mountains of bullshit
Karma is a bitch and she’ll smack you like a pimp
Until your Burger King body is broken and limp

CHORUS 1
I see no bravery among you criminals
Your valor is at the very best minimal
Lock your asses up and throw away the key
Even heroes know when it’s time to flee

VERSE 3
It’s the same old shit, but on a different day
The power hungry don’t know when to pay
They don’t know when to shut their mouths
They hide from justice like a frightened mouse
Prison is a bitch and so are you, my friend
You’ll one day know what it’s like to bend
If it takes forever, we’ll fight forever
We’ll bring the thunder and stormy weather

CHORUS 2
I see no bravery among you thieves
I see no end for the ones who greave
You steal life like a home invader
And turn the innocent into gladiators
You want a battle? Here’s a war
Justice and honor are what we fight for
We don’t need machineguns and tanks

To our strongest voices, we give our thanks

Thursday, September 22, 2016

Take It Back

***TAKE IT BACK***

There seem to be a lot of stories in the news lately about environmental disasters, the most prominent one being about the North Dakota pipeline that the Standing Rock Indian Nation is protesting. Not only would the pipeline poison their water supply, but it would desecrate sacred burial sites. During these protests, the oil company’s private security beat the protesters and unleashed attack dogs on them. And still the Indian Nation remains stronger than ever. Instead of inserting my own political dialogue into this matter, I’m going to have Pink Floyd do it for me with their 1994 hit “Take It Back”. And no, it’s not about an overly emotional chick. It’s about Mother Nature, an even more emotional chick with the power of geomancy. Look the song up on You Tube. Or you can read these lyrics, one of the two.


VERSE 1
Her love rains down on me as easy as the breeze
I listen to her breathing it, sounds like the waves on the sea
I was thinking all about her, burning with rage and desire
We were spinning into darkness, the earth was on fire

CHORUS
She could take it back, she might take it back some day

VERSE 2
So I spy on her, I lie to her, I make promises I cannot keep
Then I hear her laughter rising, rising from the deep
And I make her prove her love for me, I take all that I can take
And I push her to the limit to see if she will break

CHORUS
She might take it back, she could take it back some day

VERSE 3
Now I have seen the warnings, screaming from all sides
It's easy to ignore them and God knows I've tried
All of this temptation, it turned my faith to lies
Until I couldn't see the danger or hear the rising tide

CHORUS X3
She can take it back, she will take it back some day


***WEEKLY SHORT STORY CONTESTS AND COMPANY***

Once again, the WSS admins use a prompt suggestion of mine (Eagle Eye) and I am eternally grateful. But before I can do my official happy dance, I have to write “Emoticon Artist”, which goes like this:


CHARACTERS:

Colin McCain, Authoritative Dungeon Master
Cody Knox, D&D Warrior
Brenda Christopher, D&D Rogue
Beth Bradshaw, D&D Cleric and Texter

PROMPT CONFORMITY: The D&D characters are searching for a magical gem known as The Eagle Eye of Aragon.

SYNOPSIS: An exciting game of Dungeons & Dragons is taking place in Colin’s kitchen and involves the three players trying to defeat a metallic dragon at a robotic junkyard. Just when the climax of the battle is drawing near, Beth’s phone goes off and she gets in a text-messaging war with one of her relatives. As the Dungeon Master, Colin strictly forbids text messaging and/or crying at his table, but Beth isn’t so easy to comply. This angers Colin to where he dives across the table in an attempt to pry the phone away from Beth while Cody and Brenda are restraining him.


***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

If Cain Gutwrench wasn’t scary enough for you, hopefully G-Pac will be. No, G-Pac doesn’t have much fighting experience beyond barroom brawls, but he’s a Dark Fantasy Warrior anyways due to his uniqueness. It’s not every day you see a hooded monk in a clown mask drumming away to a heavy metal tune. You kind of see that with Slipknot’s Shawn Crahan, but I don’t think Mr. Crahan would appreciate me using his likeness in Demon Axe. Thus, we have G-Pac. Before you ask, yes, G-Pac was named after me, Garrison Kelly, even though I don’t play the drums.


***DEMON AXE***

Now that we’re on the topic of Demon Axe, the torment is far from over for Daniel Mercer a.k.a. the Lord of the Pit. It’s bad enough Detective Shawn Henry asks him a bunch of stupid questions for the sake of fulfilling his “bureaucratic nightmare”. Now he gets a visit in the night from Raven Triscloud, an elf warrior who tries to warn Daniel that Roger Zee is far from finished with him. Of course, being the drugged out dunderhead that he is, Daniel thinks that Raven is full of crap and is just another traumatic hallucination. Is she?


***FACE BOOK STATUS OF THE DAY***

“If you ever get bitten by the world travel bug, it won’t be because you used to play Final Fight 2 for the Super Nintendo. It doesn’t matter what country Haggar, Carlos, and Maki do all of their street fighting in, because the stages look just as ghettoized and impoverished as the first level of the original Final Fight. For Christ’s sake, Holland looks like it had a nuclear bomb dropped on it. If the Mad Gear gang has the funds to travel overseas, you’d think they could get some nicer digs. Then again, getting a spinning piledriver from the top of Big Ben isn’t appealing no matter what your gang’s budget is.”


-Me-

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

"Sick Puppy" by Carl Hiaasen

BOOK TITLE: Sick Puppy
AUTHOR: Carl Hiaasen
YEAR: 1999
GENRE: Fiction
SUBGENRE: Environmental Thriller
GRADE: Pass

Twilly Spree is a twenty-something Floridian eco-warrior who would gladly beat somebody’s ass if they screwed with Mother Nature. The first of his victims in this story is Palmer Stoat, a sleazy lobbyist who shamelessly chucks food wrappers out of the window of his car. Mr. Stoat becomes even more disgusting when he tries to put together a political deal to build a bridge to Toad Island, thus burying the wildlife beneath the sand. To teach him a valuable lesson in respecting the earth, Twilly will go to some vile lengths whether it’s filling Palmer’s car with dung beetles, filling his other car with a dump truck’s haul, kidnapping his dog, or kidnapping his wife Desie, who’s already sickened with him anyways. Other colorful characters join the fray in an extortion scenario more chaotic than a deadly hurricane.

When finding things to love about Carl Hiaasen’s work, the colorful characters are the first to come to mind. After Twilly beats up some college drunkards for injuring a seagull with beer cans, you pretty much have no choice but to like the guy. The kidnapped doggie, Boodle/McGuinn, proves to be a sweetie pie and pivotal to bringing the story to its wild conclusion. Even the main villain of the story, Mr. Gash, has some quirky habits, such as listening to tapes of violent 9-1-1 calls while dubbing them with dramatic classical music. But none are quirkier than the returning Clinton “Skink” Tyree, a braid-bearded, shower cap-wearing, glass eye-having, and nearly naked eco-terrorist with a delightfully misanthropic side to him. There’s not one character in this book who won’t strike the reader as wonderfully weird.

But as much as you love to read about these cartoon-like characters, some of them you’ll wish a nasty fate upon. Mr. Gash is a sociopath hit man, so he should go first on the barbecue rack. Palmer Stoat is already a classless litterbug, but he’s also a heartless wildlife hunter with worse marksmanship than Ray Charles. Robert Clapley is a huge part of the bridge deal that’s going to kill off wildlife, but he also has a psychotic fetish for Barbies (not that there’s anything wrong with that). Governor Dick Artemus is just as…well…dickish as his first name suggests with his sleazy politics and loudmouthed behavior. No need to worry about these morons making it to the finish line, because sooner or later, everybody, and I mean everybody from this book gets what they deserve. Such is the way of Mother Earth.

If you’re intimidated by the fact that this book is five hundred plus pages long, relax. Carl Hiaasen’s thrillers always dictate a fast pace without neglecting the finer details of his prose. Everything is shown like a movie on TV from the details of Mr. Gash’s god-awful haircut to the creative way in which he gets his comeuppance. Even when Mr. Hiaasen is giving a History Channel-like lecture on the back stories of his characters, you can still enjoy the ride and not feel like he’s trying too hard to maintain your interest. Trust me, he doesn’t have to try at all. After several decades of writing these kinds of humorous novels, kick-ass environmental storytelling is as easy to him as breathing in and out.

Although Carl Hiaasen novels are entertaining and fun to read, there’s also an important message behind all of the chaotic violence, Sick Puppy being no exception. The message of land and animal preservation is highly apparent in this book since we actually get to see what kinds of shady deals go on between lobbyists and politicians, both Democrat and Republican. Money controls everything in politics and as long as there’s lots of it going around, nobody’s going to care what happens to the baby toads or cuddly squirrels of Toad Island. If on the other hand you actually have a soul like Twilly Spree and Clinton Tyree do, you’ll realize that there are more important things in this world that money such as intelligence and decency. Will Carl Hiaasen’s novels change the minds of ignorant people? I hope they do. A passing grade goes to this wonderfully crafted piece of literature.

Friday, May 8, 2015

Colleen Owens

NAME: Colleen Owens
AGE: 19
OCCUPATION: Eco-Warrior
CANON: Vampire On Fire


It shouldn’t be a surprise to anybody by now how I feel about environmental issues: I support them. Climate change is a real thing and we should all do something about it. Animals need our protection instead of getting shot at or abused. Habitats for those animals need our protection as well. Colleen Owens embodies every one of these beliefs. There’s just one problem: she’s billed as a villain and takes her alignment a little too seriously.

Being an eco-warrior isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but taking it to the extreme is. Pretty much any political belief has the potential to be polarized whether you’re a pro-lifer who shoots doctors or an anti-war protester who loots liquor stores during a riot. Colleen has good intentions, but she achieves her goals through vicious means, which is what makes her a convincing villain.

In Vampire On Fire, an oil tanker is pulling into the harbor of a nameless city (before I started calling every location in my short stories Paulson City). Three different creatures of the night want to attack this oil tanker for different reasons. Mario Grand, a vampire who doesn’t burn during daylight but has a fiery aura, wants victims to feast on and fill his blood pool. Derrick O’Brien, a werewolf who undergoes his transformation via rage, wants relief from his PTSD. Can you take a guess as to what Colleen Owens wants with the oil tanker? She wants to destroy the fucking thing, that’s what.

Armed with little more than a machete and a bitchy attitude, Colleen storms the oil tanker and slashes innocent people along the path to her goals. She even goes so far as to torture one of them while screaming in an annoying voice. That’s the key thing you have to remember about Colleen: her voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard. She could scream the lyrics to a Soulfly or Five Finger Death Punch song and still sound disgusting.

Combine this with the will to kill anybody over the smallest disagreement over environmental issues and you’ve got the makings of a terrorist. If you leave your lights on when you’re not around, she’ll tie your ass to the couch and burn your home. If you eat a 50 calorie beef stick, she’ll shove it up your ass like a dildo and pop your eyeballs out. At this point, calling her a bitch might not be enough. We might have to move one more letter down the alphabet to accurately describe this violent woman.

So I guess Colleen Owens can be labeled by TV Tropes as being a Complete Monster. Even hardcore liberals can’t identify with this woman and those on the right hate her even more. She’s doing more damage to her cause than good. Sometimes she doesn’t even have a clear game plan; she’ll just rape and pillage everything until this entire world is burning in her violence, which also goes against the environmental doctrine.

A villain who gets called the C-word on a regular basis and earns it every time should be a satisfying kill for someone like Mario Grand or Derrick O’Brien. Fear not, readers. After the two of them take down an ultra-powerful mummy and put aside their differences, Derrick ties and gags Colleen with duct tape while Mario throws a head kick and decapitates her in the process. If I hadn’t used so many hyperbolic descriptions while ignoring the “normal” rules of writing, then maybe Vampire On Fire would be a satisfying read. Unfortunately, the writing techniques I employed along with the Deus Ex Machina ending would make this story a weak contender for publication and therefore a candidate for being deleted from my archives.

If I ever have the need for a bitchy villain who demands conformity and is too violent even for an NC-17 rating, then I’ll be happy to call on Colleen Owens for help. But if I’m going to use her, then I can’t have her be TOO bitchy. Otherwise, people might put the book down and pick up a copy of something a little more heavenly, like “The Fault In Our Stars” by John Green or “Love Letters to the Dead” by Ava Dellaira. I’d include “Fifty Shades of Grey” on that list, but I’m inclined to believe that Colleen Owens and Christian Grey would make the ideal Complete Monster couple. That’s a scary prospect no matter which way you spin it. It sends chills down my spine and it should yours as well.

 

***JOKE OF THE DAY***

When Christian Grey wants to go to a rock concert, does he shop at Ticket Master?

Wednesday, December 24, 2014

"Open Season" by CJ Box



BOOK TITLE: Open Season

AUTHOR: CJ Box

YEAR: 2001

GENRE: Fiction

SUBGENRE: Crime Thriller

GRADE: Pass

As the new Game Warden for Twelve Sleep, Wyoming, Joe Pickett hasn’t made a whole lot of friends. Whenever he needs to write a ticket or make an arrest, he does it without a second thought. It wasn’t anything personal until a former suspect of his wound up dead in a woodpile in his backyard. Three other hunters ended up dead in what would appear to be an open and shut case. Joe wasn’t satisfied with such an easy ending. He looked further into this case and uncovered a conspiracy involving an endangered species and plans to build an oil pipeline from Wyoming to California. The danger even goes deep enough to involve his family, the same family he vowed to protect throughout all of this.

Joe Pickett is far from a perfect character, which is actually a compliment and not an insult. As readers, we identify more with flawed characters than we do Gary-Stu’s. Joe tries to be the by-the-books, no-nonsense good guy, but occasionally he makes mistakes that cost him dearly. For example, in the opening moments of the book, Ote Keeley, the dead suspect I mentioned earlier, steals Joe’s gun right out from under his nose and could have killed him right there. Instead of dying, Joe took a huge hit to his pride. He constantly berates himself for not being a good enough husband to his wife or a father to his children. He fears that one of these blunders could cost him his entire family. And then what? What would he do with himself then?

Joe’s moral compass is one of the things that make this novel such a fascinating read. The other thing of course is how the mystery and the action is put together. Everybody knows that a happy ending is almost always on the horizon. The question then becomes, how? With all of these obstacles and unanswered questions in Joe Pickett’s way, how exactly does he go through hell and earn the ending he so rightly deserves? If I revealed the how’s, then I would need to post a spoiler alert. All you need to know is that Joe Pickett is the standup guy he so desperately wants to be. He puts his family first and himself second. With that kind of mentality, do you honestly believe he would settle for anything less than a shut case?

And then of course, there’s the political side to CJ Box’s Joe Pickett series, to which Open Season is the first one. As a hardcore liberal, commonsense would dictate that I would be irritated with the conservative views shown on this book. But I’m not. In fact, I don’t mind at all. As long as CJ Box continues to put out instant classic after instant classic, I’ll continue to read them like the devoted fan I am. Did I also mention that I’m a liberal who listens to Five Finger Death Punch and an atheist who listens to Skillet? The point I’m trying to make is that politics don’t dictate enjoyment. CJ Box sounds like a conservative, but he’s not overly preachy when it comes to his views. Open Season is not the first CJ Box book I’ve read and it sure as hell won’t be the last.

All in all, not only did CJ Box kick down the doors with his first Joe Pickett novel, but he also won so many awards and all of those victories were completely justified. This novel is fast-paced, emotional, and well-orchestrated. What more could you possibly want out of a mystery novel than that?