July 2021.
Roanoke used to be called “Big Lick,” of all things.
This second one I’m a little proud of — that’s the Mill Mountain Star that you see in the background at left.
Looking southwest.
I found Area 51!!! And it was taken over by the Black Oil Alien from “The X-Files.”
Great news! I’m honored to share here that Newington Blue Press will feature a flash fiction story of mine in the third and final volume of “Buk 100.” The publisher is based in Germany, and produces the “Buk 100” commemorative chapbook series as an homage to German-American writer Charles Bukowski. The first two volumes were beautifully crafted and filled with outstanding contributions from around the world. Thanks once again to Matthias Krueger for including my work.
The story is entitled “Bill and I,” and is my stab at spinning a Bukowski-esque vignette. I’ll share ordering details when they become available.
By GFreihalter – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=18740517
Does anybody else remember one of these? The kids across the street from me had one, and it was a pretty big hit.
Trying to figure out if that’s a typo or some new slang or what.
Maybe she’s fallen in with some teen Neanderthals.
Maybe we could make this a thing, if it isn’t already. Hell, we never made “fetch” happen.
Any news that I dislike is fake.
Anyone with knowledge that I myself do not possess is a liar.
Anyone criticizing my preferred candidate is a traitor.
Any election results that I dislike mean that the election was rigged.
Any civil servant with whom I disagree is a member of a criminal conspiracy against me.
Any member of a minority group who exercises the same rights that I currently have is demanding special treatment.
Any news source that reports things in a manner that I dislike is part of THE MEDIA — a vast and monolithic conspiracy insidiously designed to brainwash me. Never mind that I cannot begin to suggest how such a sprawling conspiracy — involving countless ordinary people throughout America — might be organized, led, financed or coordinated.
Any news source that reports things in a manner that I DO like is not part of the dread monolith of THE MEDIA. My preferred news sources should be referred to by their individual names, like Fox News, O.A.N., Newsmax or MyPillow.com.
If one of these news sources begins to report things that I do not like, then it has “sold out” or been “taken over” by liberals, because any deviation from my preferred narrative is false. Then I will retreat to my carefully curated short list of blogs and Youtube channels, which will even better safeguard me from indoctrination.
Anyone who disagrees with me is an anarchist (or a socialist or a Marxist). My inability to define those terms in any detail makes them no less valid an accusation.
Anyone who exceeds my own accomplishments in arts, academia or communications is an elitist. I am more average than they are — and am therefore paradoxically superior. Never mind that this is far closer to the spirit of actual Marxism than the drive for individual achievement is — the Marxists are those OTHER guys. You can tell by the way they dress. You can tell by the way they talk.
My common sense is more trustworthy than any conclusion drawn from evidence — because I know how the REAL world works. I know this because I am a REAL American. It doesn’t matter that I cannot describe the First Amendment, or describe the concept of inalienable rights, or explain what separation of powers is, or even name the three branches of the American government.
My ignorance stems from humility — not intellectual laziness. My rejection of science shows I am wise. A wink and a smile will infuse any assertion of mine with the veracity of folk wisdom.
I distrust all the so-called “experts.” Things I do not like or understand are, by necessity, lies. A man’s knowledge and his honesty are inversely proportional. (This is an axiom that’s remarkably convenient for good people like me, who tend to possess less knowledge than others.) And my anthropomorphic god surely loves the humble and simple and honest folk more than the false and the arrogant.
My opinions and actions are intrinsically more American than those of others. You can tell this from the way that I pepper my language with phrases like “We the people,” “patriots,” “liberty” or “1776.” If I co-opt the language of the American Revolution, then no action of mine can be anti-American. This includes violently overthrowing America’s democratically elected government under instructions from an aspiring dictator. Terrorism is acceptable, just so long as I am play-acting a colonial American while perpetrating it.
I should be congratulated, instead of despised — lauded instead of detested. My shouts and threats and will enliven the heart, where bland and passionless reason cannot. The flag on my t-shirt is an unassailable license — to assail the very same Republic for which it is meant as an emblem.
I am a Trump supporter. Hear me roar.
Photo credit: Tyler Merbler, CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons
“The Last Unicorn” (1982) is an 80’s film that you don’t hear quite as much about in nostalgia circles. My sister took me to see it in the theater when I was in second or third grade. It probably wasn’t the first choice of a movie for a kid whose heroes were Sgt. Rock, Conan the Barbarian, and Ka-Zar the Savage. (Seriously, I read a looooot of comics as a little boy.) But my sister was the one with the car keys.
Come to think of it, there might have been a dearth of options. If memory serves (the 80’s were a very long time ago), there were generally fewer films at the local multiplex for the younger set. “The Last Unicorn” might have been the only children’s movie that happened to be playing. (I think the market has expanded quite a bit since then.) I really liked it, though.
“The Last Unicorn” had a hell of a voice cast — including Alan Arkin, Christopher Lee and Mia Farrow. The animation (to my eyes, at least) looks like strictly average stuff — except for the title unicorn and the monster antagonist. Those look quite good; they look fluid and natural. The backdrops are pretty good too.
The monster’s name here is “The Red Bull,” which is probably funny now, given the eponymous modern energy drink.
Either way, that’s a truly terrible salute. They’re gonna bust me down to private for that.
We need to call it something else to make it seem cooler. Tactical Urban Street Transporter?
If we call it a Tactical REMOVABLE Urban Street Transporter we can go with the acronym T.R.U.S.T., but I’m not sure how cool that sounds — I’ve never been an expert on what’s cool. T.R.U.S.T. sounds like a credit-building plan suggested by a patient, sympathetic banker.
Tactical Urban Freight Forwarder (T.U.F.F.)? No.
Tactical Omnipurpose Urban Ghetto Holder-of-things (T.O.U.G.H.) ? No.
Update: a pal of mine just suggested “Otter Pocket.” Hold up. That’s actually brilliant, because it compels me to adopt a corresponding otter occupant. And I have always wanted an excuse to enlist an otter.
Eric Robert Nolan, Author 