More Englishy goodness. I’m working my way through a stack of murder mysteries set in Minneapolis, The Sun, The Moon, and the Stars by Stephen Brust, and another writing-of-English book. The mysteries I’ll only review if I think they’re good ones. The Sun, The Moon, and the Stars has just been completed, and I need […]

The Friday Nite Game, Part the Third The sewers beckoned our heroes just like…well, let’s say I have a simile in mind, but we’ll skip it, all right? Black Iron and Nice Guy ferry down the non-flying members of the party onto a stable area in front of the two main sewer lines that the

At some point. When you use humor to keep people at arm’s length, is it still humor? How about charm? Solicitousness? “How’s that baby of yours?” At some point, it becomes obvious that all your humor, charm, and solitictousness aren’t genuine. You aren’t to be touched, you aren’t to be trusted. You’re a good guy.

Reviews. Behind Enemy Lines, The Others. Behind Enemy Lines. If I did the stars thing, I’d gve this one three of five. For what it was, Behind Enemy Lines was all right. It ain’t Schindler’s List, but it ain’t Top Gun, either. Owen Wilson stuffs more into his character than I would have imagined. Gene

Rejection… So I’m on the phone with my folks, who are going to try to make it out here for a couple of days before the fourth, when Lee comes home with one of my SASEs gripped in his sweaty fist. Rejection. One Cool Million. On Spec. Form letter. Note at the bottom. Game shows

The Friday Nite Game, Part the Second. When we left our heroes, Nice Guy and Tinfoil Avenger had just flown away from the decapitated headquarters of the Supreme Squad, and Cornfield Commando, Black Squirrel, and Ol’ Lady Johnson had just hauled off a posse o’ hoodlums to the nearest police precint in Megalopolis. We still

Snippet: The Inner Child (playing with autobiographical infomation) Back when I went to country school (and we didn’t have running water, and we did have outhouses), I idolized one of the boys at school, Mr. K. I thought our love was meant to be, since if I married him, my initials wouldn’t change. I would

Snippet: Towns, Faces, Voices So they packed their dirty laundry in garbage bags, threw everyting else in the back seats of their cars, and drove home to their folks’ for the summer, he on his side of the state, she on hers. The next semester, every time he saw her, he told her he blamed

Reviews.Tom Strong, American Gods. Tom Strong, by Allen Moore, etc. Maybe I haven’t read enough comic books. Then again, Lee read this after I did and agreed with me, and he’s read some serious comic books, from what I understand. I don’t get what Allen Moore is trying to do here. I understand the grosser

Vehicular Annoyance. Surprise, surprise. It is the alternator. Crap.