… was sent to me by a reader of “The Dogs Don’t Bark In Brooklyn Any More.” She said it reminded her of the post-apocalyptic battle scene at “The Corridor” — “the confused and crowded river of rusting meal” that was the remains of Interstate 95.
It’s a hell of photo collection by Marcel Wiegernick, and I think it would make a great set of writing prompts for any writer.
Here’s the link to Boredpanda.com:
http://www.boredpanda.com/chatillon-car-graveyard-abandoned-cars-cemetery-belgium/
MamaCat needs to be SLIGHTLY more vigilant. One of the Jelly Beans wandered off and somehow wound up buried WAY down in the folds of the blankets in the cat-house that we constructed. Uncle Eric had to retrieve him after hearing him complain. (They sound a hell of a lot like chirping birds at one day old.)
The little Fur Nugget actually does have a set of pipes on him — it’s surprising how loud such a little animal can be.
As lovable as they are, this entire experience hasn’t been without the occasional yuck factor. Today’s addition was the discovery that one of the newborns actually has the remains of its umbilical cord trailing its tummy like a piece of string.
Little Ninja hasn’t learned deportment just yet. He shamelessly wacks his siblings away when he wants to nurse.
What’s funny is that MamaCat appears to allow me to “babysit.” When I come over to visit, she takes the opportunity to get out and walk around and stretch her legs while I am with the kittens. It’s cute.
Anyway, babysitting today gave me the chance for portraiture of a couple of the Jelly Beans. Whaddya think?
— my old friend and managing editor, Jeff Dute, about the news business. He told me that just before I left Virginia for New York, leaving newspapers behind for a job in public relations. I believe it was around 1997.
I was chatting with a friend with a journalism background today, and I realized how much I miss the news world. I even feel a little of what seems like homesickness when I read the Facebook posts of my old colleagues, even though their “beats” (sports and hunting) are very different from what I used to cover.
News taught me so much about working quickly, multi-tasking, researching a topic quickly, and speaking with people.
It also taught me a lot about authority, local government, the range of beliefs and ideologies in America, neighbors’ kindness toward one another, strangers’ violence against the innocent, and how easy it is to get lost on country roads.
It taught me to smoke cigarettes, to consider my sources’ motivations, and to be loyal to those who confided in me.
There were lessons in mortality too. Rookie reporters are routinely assigned to the traffic accidents that occur at all hours.
All in all, it was a hell of an education — and not an easy job, but a rewarding one.
Found on VectorBelly.com and Imgur.com.
This reminds me of my news reporter days at the Culpeper Star-Exponent, when I would endlessly kid the sports staff about their beats.
Of course, I was just being an obnoxious twerp. My more experienced colleagues, David Utnik and Michael Hicks, were tremendously capable journalists who handled people and information with skills that I hadn’t learned yet.
But … to someone who is NOT a sports fan … this IS rather what sports interviews sound like!
Thanks to my great friend Carrie Schor for passing this along. 🙂
“The Pustoy” is a frightening and effective set of vignettes detailing the rise of a genocidal dictator in a dystopian future Britain. When scientists ostensibly discover “the soul,” a scapegoated underclass, accused of being without souls, are executed on sight. They are “The Pustoy” (Russian for “empty”), and their government sanctioned murder is painted cheerfully by the government as a needed national public service.
Philippe Blenkiron’s creation is an epic political poem with depth and detail, but it is still quite easy to read. Fans of “1984”and “Brave New World” will doubtlessly find it a dark and satisfying bedtime story.
I think what surprised me the most is that this poetry collection will please fans of horror and thrillers as well. Blenkiron has a terribly nice knack for rendering fearful images – be sure to take a close look at his various descriptions of the Staffhounds. Yeesh. If Blenkiron so masterfully creates such scary bad guys, it makes me wonder whether he might write horror stories. I’d happily read them if he does.
He has a wonderfully unique voice. And his ability to juggle of various points of view – each of which has a distinct, character- specific voice – is admirable.
This is a compelling set of poems. Pick it up here at Amazon.com:
1) Save enough money for voice coaching lessons to develop the best Charlton Heston impression ever. Also, bail money for disturbing the peace.
2) Visit Liberty Island wearing nothing but tattered slacks.
3) Just fall to my knees and start screaming: “You blew it up! You maniacs! God damn you! GOD DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!”
Fun with neologisms. Or not.
A Taco John’s manager in South Dakota allegedly forces a 16-year-old gay employee to help customers with a nametag bearing the slur “Gaytard.”
It’s an interesting use of language — he’s managed to target and disparage two demographics with as many syllables: gays and people with developmental disabilities.
Forget the old saying — I suspect that there actually IS such a thing as bad publicity.
See the link:
http://www.advocate.com/business/2014/06/26/teen-restaurant-worker-forced-wear-gaytard-name-tag
“Ah. You’re in that kind of mood. I can feel the thick inky blackness seeping out of your soul and through the Ethernet.”
So this was blackly humorous …
My website, like most others, is configured so that I can see which search terms users employ to arrive there via Google.
Some kind soul searched for “secretary poem,” doubtlessly to find some happy verse to remind some cherished subordinate that they are appreciated. He found my poem entitled “The Secretary,” first published by Dagda and currently appearing in Illumen Magazine. I hope he enjoys it.
My poem, of course, describes a woman marginalized by corporate culture who kills herself in her garage out of loneliness.
I guess it’s just my usual habit of diminishing the light for the kind.
… gonna play that gag where I pretend to be a North Korean agent.
BECAUSE THE GREAT GREEN DRAGON OF NORTH KOREA WILL BE UNDETERRED AND WILL VANQUISH ITS AMERICAN OPPRESSORS.
And because there can be no possible unforeseen consequences for a joke like that.
This is the same guy who has assured me repeatedly that the National Security Agency does not monitor my blog. Let’s see how cavalier he is about the possibility now.
Eric Robert Nolan, Author 