Ari Emanuel (TKO) X Jade Pettyjohn (Big Sky): "Just Be a Fan..."

 

A History of Violence...Against Internet Trolls

 

Ophelia Cornell: Legendary Serial Killer from "Dungeon of Love"

 

Frank Black from Millennium vs. Morgan Wallen: The Devil Doesn't Wear Prada, He Wears Red Baseball Caps

 

Iggie Denver, Chief Prison Guard with a Country Singer Name from "Marines Love Prison"

 

Hughy Casey, Petty Argument Bystander from "Happy Fun Land"

 

Arne Lindemann: Abusive Psych Ward Orderly from "My Favorite Magazine"

 

Upcoming Character Drawings

Well…you guys saw my political cartoons and hopefully you’ve enjoyed them so far. Now I’m going to start uploading drawings of my characters, particularly ones who will appear in my two novelette collections Lysergic Fairytales and Tacky Tuesday. When I’ll finish the damn stories, I’ll never know, because schizophrenia’s been fucking with my energy and my general wellbeing. I’m drawing characters as a way of keeping hope alive. I will finish my writing someday, even if I have to take forever to mentally heal. Until then…meet the cast and crew!

Murder Nuts the Clown

 

Landon Bryce (Millennium) X Elly Chandler (Chandler & Co): Trauma Buddies, Not Lovers

 

Those are lyrics from "Invisible Sun" by The Police. And yes, the asshole who kidnapped Elly would in fact kill her for a cigarette. Hell, he'd kill her for less.

A History of Violence

MOVIE TITLE: A History of Violence

DIRECTOR: David Cronenberg

YEAR: 2005

GENRE: Thriller

RATING: R for violence, language, and sex

GRADE: A

A story about a diner-owner saving his establishment from a robbery would have been thrilling enough on his own. But where exactly did Tom Stall get his fighting skills from? It wasn’t just blind luck. He didn’t take martial arts courses. Maybe he was ex-military, but why would an ex-military guy suddenly have mafia goons calling him Joey when his name is clearly Tom? He’s hiding something, not only from the town that praises his actions, but also his own family. The growing tension between Tom and his family is a focal point of the story’s drama. The more that comes out about him, the more isolated he becomes from the one he loves. I was going to dock this movie a point for a sometimes slow pace, but that slow pace actually helps intensify the drama. Tension needs time to build. In the case of the audience, they’re going to feel all the hate and anger that Tom and his family feels towards the ones who wronged them…right before they implode on each other. If you have a history of violence, the cycle will eventually repeat itself. Building tension and sending anxiety through the audience are this movie’s strong suits.

But of course, you can’t call the movie A History of Violence and not have a good deal of violence in it. Tom Stall’s punches, kicks, and limb breaks are so brutal that they’re satisfying to watch as they happen to everyone who messes with his family. But the cherry on top of the blood-covered sundae came from Jack Stall, Tom’s son, who had been bullied all year at school by a redneck named Bobby and his friends. Jack just absolutely wrecked Bobby and it was so delicious to watch. As a former bullying victim myself, I love watching these kinds of scenes. Of course, Tom isn’t happy with how Jack handled it, because that’s not how his family solves problems…but Tom totally does as he slaps his son for smart-mouthing him. Pot, meet kettle. But that just widens the divide between Tom and his family, so blatant hypocrisy adds to the building tension that the movie does so well.

I won’t spoil the ending for everyone, so I’ll speak as vaguely as possible. By the time all is said and done, we don’t know if the main problem is solved. We don’t know if Jack will face repercussions other than suspension for the pounding he gave Bobby. We don’t know if Edie (Tom’s wife) can carry on with her marriage. We don’t know if Sarah (Tom’s daughter) will stop seeing monsters at night. But most importantly, we don’t know if this cycle of violence will continue or if everything falls apart. Normally, this kind of open-ended storytelling is ideal for producing a sequel, which I wouldn’t be against. But even without a sequel, this is effective storytelling because it leaves the audience with anxiety-inducing questions long after it’s over. They’re free to exercise their imaginations. It’s not even confusion they feel. It’s a genuine interest in seeing the story beyond its ninety-six minutes. By renting space in the audience’s head long after it’s over, A History of Violence truly did its job of telling an effective story.

Everybody played their roles to perfection. The violence was satisfying whenever it happened to the bad guys (Bobby included). The drama was never in a cool state even after those bad guys get their comeuppance. It started off slow, yes, but that’s something I’m willing to forgive since the rest of the movie kicked it into high gear with the action and drama. If you feel like your patience is being tested, keep watching it all the way through, because you’ll get everything you want and more…even if the ending leaves you with more questions than answers. A History of Violence gets five out of five stars.

We Love You, Alejandro Cherrystone

 Every last page of his love letter collection

Breathed new life into his bloody erection

“We love you, Alejandro Cherrystone!

We can do it in your cell or on the phone

We know you’ve skinned your victims raw

We know you broke a prostitute’s jaw

We know you mutilated neighborhood pets

It doesn’t make us lust for you any less”

Every last page of the dirtiest magazines

Is filled with beauty nobody’s ever seen

Long black locks and androgynous lips

Tight black Speedo clinging to his hips

A six-pack that he worked hard to sculpt

Smooth legs that could start his own sex cult

It’s easy to forget his towering body count

Even when formaldehyde assaults your snout

Every last page of the stenographer’s notes

Crushes every baby girl’s romantic hopes

A heart like his could never be warm

Neither could his corpses left out in the storm

A life behind bars is what he so deserves

Not to be sexed up by the youngest of pervs

Not to be a wet dream for teenage queens

There’d be no debate if he looked like a fiend

Every last page of his death certificate

Makes claims of innocence insignificant

Stabbed to death with a rusty shank

While making a deposit in the sperm bank

Shower water washed away his blood

And the mess left by his supermodel butt

Never mind leaving flowers on his grave

Unless it’s necrophilia which you crave

Every last page of his docudrama script

Now smolders in a pyromantic abyss

No glory for killers, no cinematic thrillers

But compensation for his victims’ tear-spillers

They don’t have to forgive for Jesus’ sake

If Alejandro was alive, he’d continue to take

Never giving back to the world he bloodied

Except for hybristophilia to his favorite honeys

Rest in piss and we’ll see you in hell

This is the only story we should tell

Until the next killer casts a horny spell

Until the next cult forms, oh fucking well

"Force of Nature" by C.J. Box

BOOK TITLE: Force of Nature
AUTHOR: C.J. Box
YEAR: 2012
GENRE: Fiction
SUBGENRE: Mystery Thriller
GRADE: Extra Credit

I don’t give five-star reviews very often. When I do, it’s because the book wasn’t just likeable, but it moved me in some way. I’ve always known Mr. Box to be a competent writer, but I wasn’t expecting to be completely blown away by this piece of fiction. The action and drama in this mystery made me feel alive. It heightened senses within me that were otherwise dulled by the COVID-19 pandemic going on and all the psychological fallout from that. Why wouldn’t this book be exciting? You’ve got a hardnosed warrior named Nate Romanowski who’s in a cat and mouse game with his former commander. You’ve got the always professional Game Warden Joe Pickett, whose family is being threatened by this bloody struggle. You’ve got increased paranoia and distrust among people who are supposed to be supportive of Joe and Nate. You’ve got all the makings of a tried-and-true thriller turned up to twenty. Bloody violence, enigmatic characters, betrayal, and no reason to believe that Nate and Joe are capable of winning. Do they? You’ll ask yourself that question all throughout this reading experience. You’ll have doubts as your anxiety increases. If they do win (and that’s a big if), you’d better believe they’re walking away with trauma and scars.

Speaking of trauma, the way C.J. Box portrays Nate Romanowski is just as disturbing and cold as the character himself. He’s not just an emotionless killer. He’s got an entire history behind him that bubbles to the surface far too often for the reader’s comfort. The military training he had to endure, the fallout with his father, and the coldness required for training falcons, they all will send a chill up and down your spine as if you’re actually trapped in Wyoming’s winter weather. You’ll be eternally grateful that Nate is one of the good guys, because if he for some reason turned evil, this world would turn into a bloodbath. Sometimes you wonder if his innocence is completely gone and maybe he does have evil tendencies. He’s a shades-of-gray hero, but those shades are darker than the night sky. If you ever see Nate Romanowski in real life, you’d better turn the other way and run. He’s got his morals for sure, but he’s also got a heart of stone that could make even the toughest of tough guys knock their knees together in fear. If you think he’s all bark and no bite, just watch the way he tortures people to get what he wants and how quickly he can kill someone in a life-or-death brawl.

The minor role characters can be just as compelling to read about. The one I feel like I have to talk about the most is Pam Kelly, whose husband Paul and son Stumpy were murdered by Nate after they tried to assassinate him. When Pam was younger, she had her starry eyes set on a handsome superstar cowboy. She even carried his baby, who grew up to be Stumpy. But instead of landing a country stud, she settled on Paul and led a mediocre life. Pam was angry when Paul and Stumpy were killed, not because of them, but because she felt like she threw her life away on those two and had nothing to show for it. Old and fat in today’s world, she doesn’t have a chance at starting over and has to clean up the mess left behind by the only two men in her life. While Pam isn’t the kindest character in the book, she is one of the most sympathetic. I’m fat myself and am looking down the barrel of wasted opportunities. Pam’s characterization hit me hard, even if we don’t get to see a lot of her.

Joe Pickett is always a reliable character when it comes to likeability. He’s professional, he’s intelligent, he always knows what to say and when to say it, and he’s a family man at heart who goes the extra mile for those he loves. April, Joe’s adopted daughter, is as bratty and nasty as she has ever been, even going so far as to mock her sister Lucy for missing her high school play. Lucy and Sheridan both have their own projects outside of home and when a monkey wrench is thrown in their plans, they have no problem with showing their disappointment and rage. Marybeth is a caring wife, nurturing mother, and efficient librarian, the latter of which will come into play when she’s being stalked at her place of work (another source of dramatic tension). Kyle McLanahan is a cartoonish redneck Sheriff who somehow keeps getting public praise despite his idiocy. Aside from April, there’s not a character in this book that I felt slowed the pace of the story. Everybody has a role and everybody plays their role with undying commitment. Seriously, though, somebody please give April the spanking of the century.

Out of every book I’ve read from C.J. Box’s catalogue, Force of Nature is without a doubt my favorite among them. Will there be others that exceed or meet that standard? I’m sure Mr. Box can figure out a way to make that happen. He truly earned every award and every word of praise he’s racked up over the years. Even people with opposing political views from Box will get a kick out of his mysteries. They’re well-written, they’re enjoyable, they’ve got splendid character work, and Force of Nature in particular stands out the most in terms of quality. Five stars out of five for this brilliant piece of fiction!

"Cold Wind" by C.J. Box

BOOK TITLE: Cold Wind
AUTHOR: C.J. Box
YEAR: 2011
GENRE: Fiction
SUBGENRE: Mystery/Thriller
GRADE: Pass

Will Joe Pickett find out who murdered wind farm scammer Earl Alden? Will Nate Romanowski exact revenge on the people responsible for his girlfriend’s death? These questions and many more will haunt you during your entire reading adventure through Cold Wind. Just when you think you can breathe a sigh of relief, there’s another twist or obstacle that comes around the corner to mess things up. Even as the book winds down to a close, there’s no room to breathe comfortably. Earl’s murder isn’t an open and shut case; there’s a conspiracy at work involving pyramid schemes and Joe’s own disliked mother-in-law Missy, who is the first accused. And Nate? He can’t depend on the law to help him since he’s an outlaw himself. When you want a revenge murder done right, you’ve got to do it yourself with the help of gigantic pistols and stealthy know-how. All in all, this is a well-crafted mystery that will keep you guessing until the end. You want to cheer for Joe and Nate to find justice. You also want their stories to intertwine since they were former friends. You may have to wait patiently and put together the pieces like everyone else, but your eagerness to crack the case won’t allow you to step away from this book. That’s the mark of a good mystery: always keeping the readers hungry for more.

Behind all of the good writing and carefully-constructed mysteries, the author has an obvious rightwing agenda. This book was published in 2011, when conservatives were paranoid about where their tax money was going. Speaking from my own liberal point of view, I appreciate the fact that C.J. Box’s politics don’t come off as ham-fisted. They’re tolerable so as long as they play a vital role in how the mystery unfolds, which they do. One thing that rubbed me the wrong way, though, was the whining and complaining about diversity in a mostly-white state like Wyoming, which is where the book takes place. People say it’s about preserving realism, I say it’s about celebrating bigotry. But that’s just my opinion. Obviously, the politics of this book didn’t bother me enough to put it down permanently. I read the whole thing from cover to cover and it’s still an effective murder mystery no matter what biases the reader has. I can still get behind characters like Joe Pickett, Nate Romanowski, Marybeth Picket, Alicia Whiteplume, and yes, even Marcus Hand despite this defense lawyer’s sometimes piggish behavior.

You know who I can’t get behind, though? Joe’s adopted daughter April, who comes off as whiny, spoiled, and bratty in all of her appearances in this book. So her parents took away her electronics. Big deal! With all of the venom pouring from this kid’s mouth, I’m surprised they didn’t give up on her right away. At least with Sheridan, you’ve got a college kid who’s worried about navigating life on her own. With Lucy, you’ve got a high school kid who wants her parents to acknowledge the fact that she earned a part in the school play. There’s no reason to feel sympathetic towards April. Yeah, she had a hard go of things in the first Joe Pickett novel, but unless you’re familiar with that side of her story, then all the reader is going to see is a bratty little goblin. At least there’s a reason for Missy Alden’s wicked behavior even as she’s trying to prove her own innocence. It plays into the story. April? Get her out of here already. She’s too much.

While this book isn’t going to change your life or convert anybody to C.J. Box’s beliefs, it will provide you with an exciting thriller with protagonists you can love and cartoonish villains you can hate. Joe Pickett’s family man shtick is evident in not only his personal life, but also in how he takes care of business as a game warden. When he does make stupid mistakes, they’re not so stupid that his family is left without a father figure and a husband. When Nate Romanowski hunts down his girlfriend’s murderers, he does it with precision and intelligence, which is more than I can say about some of the hillbilly villains. Cold Wind gets four out of five stars for being an enjoyable mystery/thriller and not having to be anything more than that.

Knives Out

MOVIE TITLE: Knives Out

DIRECTOR: Rian Johnson

YEAR: 2019

GENRE: Murder Mystery

RATING: PG-13 for violence and language

GRADE: Pass

In a family full of rich, spoiled brats who all claim entitlement to Harlan Thromby’s fortune (and are all cut off from his will), who could possibly want him dead the most? Who would want all of that money for themselves so badly that they’re willing to commit revenge murder to get it? Is it book publisher Walt Thromby? Is it social media influencer Joni? Is it alt-right troll boy Jacob? Truth is, everybody in this family is so unlikable that any one of them would make a convincing suspect. Some are more worthy of hate than others and that may lead you, the viewer, to obvious conclusions. You’re tempted by the obvious choice, but know deep down that’s not always the case. This mystery is so nuanced and so complicated that you’ll not only yearn to know who did it, but also how. Any mystery movie that can keep the wheels turning in your mind for as long as possible counts as a great story in my opinion. Knives Out is that great story. That’s what I expected going into the movie theater and that’s what happened.

In a movie genre where lying is paramount, I love the fact that Marta, Harlan’s personal nurse from [insert Latin country here], spills her cookies every time she lies. It could be a clever plot device. It could be a convenient way to keep her honest. Or maybe it’s just a fun little gimmick to make sure the audience knows what side she’s on. Either way, the gimmick doesn’t overstay its welcome and plays an important role in the story so many times that it’s completely necessary. It’s not even a crutch to get out of storytelling plot holes. It’s there because it needs to be. Marta is a kindhearted woman anyways, but even she makes her fair share of enemies in this movie. She’s not a total Mary-Sue in that respect. Plus, she has her own deep dark secret that may or may not influence the detective work going on throughout. The plot will thicken, not unlike the intestinal acid that bursts from Marta’s mouth every time she tells a whopper.

As to be expected with a rogue’s gallery as the main character roster, there will be some bickering among them and there are some genuinely funny moments in their dialogue. The political discussions are incredibly hammy from the basic talking points to the argot used by both the leftwing and rightwing characters. “How’s that SJW degree going, Meg?” says the most obnoxious member of the family Ransom, who’s seen eating a package of cookies at the will reading. Speaking of which, I nearly bust a gut when Walt makes an offhand remark about Harlan leaving Ransom a glass of milk in the will, proceeded by a swear word insult I will not repeat in this review. Even the serious dialogue is entertaining to listen to and at times accidentally comes off as humorous. Bottom line: it’s hard to be bored with a movie like Knives Out whether it’s the dialogue, characters, or overall mystery that you’re intrigued by.

This movie met my expectations the minute I walked through the theater door. No more, no less. I wasn’t expecting to be emotionally tear-jerked by this movie, but then again, Knives Out doesn’t have to do that. It’s just a fun story from beginning to end. It was cleverly crafted, beautifully acted, and not a single detail went to waste. This movie gets four out of five stars a.k.a. the passing grade. Rian Johnson gets a lot of heat for the way he handled his Star Wars movies. I personally don’t have a problem with them, but if Mr. Johnson needed to wash away the muck from his criticism, Knives Out was the movie to do it. Was it considered for an Oscar? I’m not sure, but it should have been.

The Hateful Eight

MOVIE TITLE: The Hateful Eight

DIRECTOR: Quentin Tarantino

YEAR: 2015

GENRE: Western Thriller

RATING: R for violence, swearing, nudity, and rape

GRADE: Pass

A blizzard hits Wyoming in the middle of bounty hunter John Ruth transporting his $10,000 captive Daisy Domergue to Red Rock to be executed. After his stagecoach picks up two extra passengers along the way, Major Marquis Warren and Sheriff Chris Mannix, the travelers are forced to hunker down in a lodge together with other suspicious characters until the blizzard passes over. As the strangers get to know each other, not everyone can keep their stories straight and it leads to paranoid distrust. Bodies begin piling up until their paranoia tapers, which means Daisy’s chances of escaping execution increase even more.

Just like with any other Quentin Tarantino movie, every character is developed through realistic, gritty, and vulgar dialogue. It’s not just cursing and slurs for the sake of edginess. Everything said in this movie has a purpose and nothing goes to waste. This is especially true when Marquis is telling old man Sandy Smithers how the latter’s son died at the former’s hands. It’s also true when John Ruth tells stories about how he prefers to hang his bounties rather than give them an easy route to death. And it’s true again when Chris Mannix brags about his father’s renegade army of confederate remnants fighting for a dying cause. None of the characters’ back stories or present actions make them appear sympathetic, I’ll admit, but if we were meant to sympathize with them, the movie wouldn’t be called the Hateful Eight. This is classic Tarantino storytelling at its apex.

I also must commend the musicianship of Ennio Morricone, who provided most of the soundtrack for this movie. Whenever a feeling of impending doom or hard justice needs to be experienced by the audience, Morricone’s music will make them believe in the brutality they’re seeing onscreen. He has a legendary track record of providing fantastic scores for western movies, so recruiting him was a natural fit on Tarantino’s part. I’m not sure if the Hateful Eight’s soundtrack has been released as a CD or digital album, but if it hasn’t, then it’s a crime. Classical music never goes out of style and even if it did, it can always be revived by conductors like Morricone.

Tarantino movies could be criticized for dragging themselves out too long or being overindulgent in their exposition through dialogue, but in the case of the Hateful Eight, I don’t agree with that sentiment at all. Everything had its place. Every conversation had its own feeling of drama and excitement. If you watch Tarantino movies just for the brutality, you might have to wait a while, but it’ll be worth it in the end. Think of the conversations as the slow build and the violence as the major crescendo in a symphony of masterful filmmaking. I wouldn’t lump John Ruth punching and elbowing Daisy in with that symphony since it was disturbing to watch and out of context it would make John Ruth look like a jerk. Yes, your butt will go numb as you go through this two and a half hour long masterpiece, but when you’re kicking it in the Caribbean, you’ll be saying to yourself, “Marcellus Wallace was right.” Wait a minute, wrong movie! But you get the idea.

While this movie isn’t anything earth shattering, it is a piece of art to be admired and rewatched just to soak in the talents of everybody involved. Samuel L. Jackson was undoubtedly the show stealer when it came to the acting. Ennio Morricone’s music is always heaven on the ears. The story itself can be easily pieced together once the movie draws to its conclusion. All in all, there’s not much to complain about even with the lengthy screen time and the scenes where Daisy gets punched (despite the fact that she too is an unsympathetic villain). A passing grade will go to this modern day Tarantino classic!

"Deadly Storm" by Richard Castle

BOOK TITLE: Deadly Storm

AUTHOR: Richard Castle

YEAR: 2011

GENRE: Graphic Novel

SUBGENRE: Crime Fiction

GRADE: Mixed

Derrick Storm is a smalltime private investigator whose recent assignment opens up an entire world of conspiracies involving money transfers and rogue CIA agents. The case starts off with Derrick spying on a cheating husband in a trailer park and continues with calls from CIA Agent Clara Strike wanting to hire him for a bigger job. Derrick is continually backed into a corner every time he thinks he’s in the clear, yet he figures out creative ways to get himself out of these sticky situations. Can he put the finishing touches on this case or will these rogue CIA agents disappear without a trace forever?

I’ve read a lot of crime fiction in my day and I’ve also watched a lot of police procedurals on TV. I know the formulas they use inside and out, front to back, and side to side. While I can’t piece together every single part of the formula, I do know that this graphic novel follows it down to the last detail. It depends on the formula so much that it becomes just another crime story rather than sticking out from the pack. It was enjoyable for what it was, but I’ve seen this scenario play out over and over again with other books and TV shows. Nothing about this graphic novel was original, but I still liked reading it. To put it mildly, this graphic novel was just plain fine. Not great, not terrible, just fine. Mediocre at best.

I wanted to give this book a higher grade when I read the opening line: “I’m not exactly an expert on what functioning adults do.” I know it’s unrealistic to expect that the opening line from every single likeable book should hook the reader instantly, but this is one of those rare occasions when it does. It had so much potential to show how messed up Derrick Storm really is. But sadly, I never got to see much of that beyond him joking about how his dad messed him up for life. In other words, he told the audience rather than showed them, which is a huge no-no in the writing business. Sure, he has nice one-liners here and there, but then again, so do a lot of hardboiled detectives. What makes Derrick Storm special? I can’t think of anything, really.

And while we’re on the topic of failed attempts to be original and cool, let’s talk about the names of the characters for a moment. We already know the main character’s name is Derrick Storm. We also know that his CIA handler is named Clara Strike. But did you also know that the trailer park prostitute is named Sassy Monroe (that’s a pseudonym, believe it or not)? I appreciate solid over-the-top names in my literature, but not when they’re so obvious that it becomes pretentious after a while. I’m not saying they should have boring names, don’t get me wrong. But there’s a middle ground between boring and over-the-top that would be suitable in a crime fiction setting. This is not it.

I’ve been pretty hard in judging this graphic novel, but don’t think for a moment that it wouldn’t make a nice gift for the mystery-lover in your life. It’s a quick read, it’s pieced together without any continuity issues, and it has all the whistles and bells that any detective story needs. If I hadn’t memorized this formula already, I might have a higher appreciation for it. But as it is, a mediocre graphic novel gets a mediocre mixed grade from me.

Sexy Lunch

“One…two…three!” SMASH! “Go, go, go! Move, move, move!”

These were the orders Detective Joey Roberts barked to five other police officers after kicking down the door to what used to be the Dam Hill Apartment Building. In one hand was her trusty cold magnum. In the other was the breast pocket of her black trench coat as she held it over her face to keep the foul odor from assaulting her senses. To her it was no different from performing a raid on a bus station bathroom. Filthy diapers, empty liquor bottles, rotten food, and buzzing flies covered every square inch of this dilapidated nightmare.

“Clear!” one officer after another hollered from distant corners of the abandoned trash heap of a building. The more Joey heard that word, the more her rage bubbled to the surface. To think that three years of mind games and false hope would lead to a big waste of time killed her inside worse than a dagger to the heart.

“Come on, Sanchez, where are you?! Show yourself!” barked Joey as she continued bolting down the various corridors with her eyes bloodshot and her pistol packing heat. “That smell better be your dead corpse!” Her wishful thinking led to even more spilled trash covered in every human fluid imaginable. She almost tripped over a dead cat being eaten by maggots. One dead cat led to another. And another. And another. The trail of blood brought her to apartment 12A, the door barely hanging on its hinges. One elbow strike was all it took to knock the motherfucker down.

There he was laying on a mattress with his baggy pants around his ankles and his striped shirt pulled up to his chest. Wearing a nearly toothless grin with an unkempt Mohawk was the man of the hour, Matt Sanchez, who smiled at Joey coldly and with psychotic intentions.

This should have been an open and shut case for the detective. However, she lowered her gun slowly and gazed at the wall behind Mr. Sanchez with wide, horrified eyes and quivering lips. Photographs were pinned to the wall, not just of ordinary people, but of Joey and her two elementary school-aged daughters. All three of them were at the beach enjoying a sunny day and…wearing bikinis. Joey’s saucer eyes morphed into angry slits when she saw the words “Sexy Lunch” scrawled across these photos with what appeared to be and smelled like old, crusty feces.

“Were you masturbating to me and my family?!” Joey growled.

“Yep,” said Matt Sanchez matter-of-factly, his lips smacking and tongue clicking as he chuckled insanely.

This would have been the perfect time to put a bullet in her stalker’s brain and get it over with. Joey’s finger edged oh-so-close to the trigger while sweat poured from her palms like a fine mist. That obnoxious laugh of Matt’s echoed through her mind much like the smell of this apartment complex burned her nostrils. Ultimately, she decided to sheath her weapon…but not out of a sudden change of heart.

Joey ripped a hardcover bible away from the bookend on the nightstand and started pounding it relentlessly over Matt’s head, arms, and back. As stiff as each blow sounded, not even the savage beating could drown out the serial killer’s girlish screams as he attempted badly to cover up. Detective Roberts wouldn’t stop. Her eyes flared up like burning gasoline. Drool splashed all over the already filthy carpeted floor. Every strike became more brutal and faster-paced the longer she went.

It took three police officers to clutch her around the arms and waist and yank her away from the beating while two more officers yanked a bloodied and bruised Matt to his feet to cuff him. Even when pulled away, Joey wouldn’t stop thrashing around, growling loudly, and swinging the bible. “Detective, that’s enough!” she heard one officer say, but it was the understatement of the year. She had to be restrained against the piss-stained wall in order to calm down just a little bit.

“What the hell are you doing, Detective?!” asked one of the cops. “You’re not supposed to be doing shit like that!” Holding his body cam, he said, “You’re going to get us all in a whole fuck load of trouble if you keep that up!”

Joey’s thrashing slowly diminished into heavily-breathing calmness at the realization of what she did. Her eyes and thoughts still burned at the sight of Matt Sanchez’s shit-eating grin superimposed on the unwanted photos on the wall. “You’d better listen to your friends, Detective. Your sexy daughters won’t have mommy to come home to otherwise.”

“You son of a bitch!” shouted Joey as she broke free from the officers’ grasps and spear tackled Matt in the ribs, knocking the rotten wall behind him over. Scandalous photos splattered over the two of them as Joey rained down the heaviest fists she could muster, slashing the serial killer over and over again. This time all five officers had to restrain her to the floor and shout orders for her to calm down. Out of the corner of her eye, Detective Roberts could see Matt Sanchez spitting out some teeth (not that his ugliness changed with them in his mouth). Still was that sadistic grin.

“What the hell are you holding me down for?! Get him before he gets away! That’s an order!” belted the Detective. Sure enough, Matt tried to get back on his knees (cuffed hands be damned), but two officers held him down once again and ordered him to shut his “filthy hole”.

Dripping with blood from his mouth, nose, and fresh cuts, Matt was hauled to his feet and carried from the door, still smiling arrogantly at his “sexy lunch”.

“Now, Miss Roberts…can I trust you to not go berserk this time? Is it okay to let you up or are you going to go ballistic some more?” asked an officer. Just as the glassy-eyed, saliva-mouthed detective was about to answer, a resounding thud echoed throughout the building. The three cops and detective headed out to the lobby and found Matt lying on the ground in a pool of blood and vomit. How much of it was his was up for debate. The two cops attending to the serial killer called for a medic while looking disgustedly at Joey.

“Do you not give a shit if our jobs are on the line?” asked one of the cops. It was hard to tell them apart due to Joey’s blurry tunnel vision and traumatic ghosts haunting her mind. “Hey, are you listening to me?! Our suspect just collapsed and it’s all because of you! The captain is going to have our balls for this! What the hell were you thinking?!”

Attempting to form a sentence through her jittery stutter, Joey said, “Did you…see those…pictures? Did you…see what…he called me and my girls?”

“Detective? And I use that term loosely,” said another faceless officer. “You should know by now that this job isn’t supposed to be personal. We need your head in the game and here you are beating the shit out of our suspect. You know how many times my family has been threatened by this asshole? What about the rest of us? Do we get to pound the hell out of him too? No, we don’t! This is a job! Take it seriously!”

Taking longer breaths and lowering her guard, Joey said with quiet anger, “It’s too late now. He’s already dead. What’s done is done. The world isn’t going to miss him and neither are any of you. Those body cams can record whatever they want for all I care. Hopefully, they recorded all of those…pictures…those pictures…those goddamn pictures!”

An officer leaned Matt up in a seated position, the killer’s body fading in and out of consciousness. But still there was that smile, like he had eaten the world’s sexiest lunch and had a comfortable BM afterwards. “What are you smiling at?!” burst Joey. “What the hell are you smiling at, you little rat turd?!”

Spitting blood on the floor, Matt said, “Looks like I’ve got one more kill under my belt. Well…much more than that if the whole police department gets taken down. My life…is complete…my work…is done!”

With a mile-long stare into Matt’s soulless eyes, Joey said, “You heard him, boys. His life is complete. His work is done. There’s nothing left for him to do. We’re all screwed one way or another. Hell, he probably put those pictures up just so we’d find them and commit career suicide. Mission accomplished. Now that we’re dead, let’s go have a few beers.”

Seeing the writing on the wall, the cop that was attending to Matt Sanchez pulled out his gun and blew the killer’s brains out, doing no more damage to the apartment complex than already stated. The legal shitstorm would come quickly and destructively. But the joke was on the DA because the cops and detective didn’t have any money to give to the plaintiffs. They spent it all on hot wings and beer!

Game Night

MOVIE TITLE: Game Night

DIRECTORS: John Francis Daley and Jonathan Goldstein

YEAR: 2018

GENRE: Black Comedy

RATING: R for violence, language, and suggestive dialogue

GRADE: Pass

Competitive gamers Max and Annie Davis have the chance to upstage Max’s obnoxiously successful brother Brooks when he sets up a live action murder mystery game with a Stingray Corvette at stake. As part of this role-play, masked criminals raid Brooks’s house and kidnap him, though the fight scene looks a little too realistic for everybody’s tastes. The deeper Max, Annie, and their gamer friends dig into this mystery, the more they realize that it wasn’t a role-play and that Brooks’s life really is in danger.

I know that this is supposed to be a goofy comedy movie, but it could easily pass for the thriller genre due to how well-constructed the mystery is. Every time you think Max and his friends have the answers, there’s always another swerve to cut them off at the knees. There are no easy solutions and not everything is part of a role-playing game. That’s the mark of a good thriller: it keeps you guessing until the climax. You don’t know how, you don’t know why, you don’t know who, but if you pay close attention and wait until the end, it’ll all become as clear as day.

And then you have the various subplots within the main one which make hopping between characters an interesting way of storytelling. Max and Annie are trying to have a baby, but Max’s sperm count is low because he’s stressed out by his brother. A black couple named Kevin and Michelle keep arguing over which celebrity Michelle allegedly cheated on Kevin with. Ryan and Sarah argue over Ryan’s blatant stupidity and ignorance while Sarah comes off as a posh and intelligent Irishwoman. Gary is a socially awkward cop who wants to join game night, but keeps getting ignored due to his weirdness. And then we find out that Brooks isn’t really who he says he is, though I’ll say no more than that, because I don’t want to give away spoilers. Bouncing from subplot to subplot keeps the movie from getting monotonous, though it’s hard for monotony to happen when there’s so much comedy going on all at once.

Yes, let us never forget that this is a comedy first and foremost. I watched this movie with my older brother and we kept guessing who the celebrity was that Michelle slept with. We were hoping and praying that it wasn’t Bill Cosby. Oh dear. Speaking of Michelle and Kevin, they received a clue from the mystery role-play where they’re looking for an object that holds whiteness together. Kevin’s first guess was Donald Trump, but it was actually a stapler since paper is white. And finally, another favorite part of mine is when Max’s bullet wound drips all over Gary’s dog, carpet, and shrine of his ex-wife. Yes, I said it: there was blood all over a shrine of Gary’s ex-wife. Let that sink in for a moment. I’d tell you more funny parts, but I’d rather you watch the movie yourselves.

If you’re in the mood for some good wholesome fun, watch Game Night, though I don’t really think wholesome is the word to describe it. It’s dirty, it’s dark, it’s funny as hell, and it’ll make you want to have a game night of your own, though hopefully yours won’t involve kidnapping and murder. Maybe you should just stick to Scrabble. They don’t kill people in Scrabble…as far as I know. A passing grade goes to this hilarious black comedy!

"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!