Devon Marshall Writes

The Mores of Marketing And The Fed-Up Writer

2012-02-10T22:50:00.001Z

When write, you do it because you love it. Not because you want to be rich or even be a best-seller because those are the few. If you can even make a living off your writing without having to do something else, you’re lucky. Of course, there are those lucky enough to be able to insist it’s because they are so damned good that they can make a living from it, but we all know how the authorial ego likes to romanticize, don’t we? Loving what you do also suggests that what you do is, or should be, fun. Writers should be having fun when they are writing. Sadly, with the pressures inherent in writing today, this can’t always be the case. Even those authors with mainstream or ‘Big 6’ publishers must do more self-promotion today than ever has been the case at any time before. You need to be not just a writer but also a techie, marketer, publicist, and social networking expert. Often, by the time you’re done with this aspect of it, the hard sell, you are too fucking exhausted and out of inspiration to write a single word of fiction.
A little while ago writing stopped being fun for me. I just got so overwhelmed by the whole promotional expectations. Worse, I couldn’t figure what good was my promotion doing amidst the overwhelming noise and confusion of all the other writers, musicians, artists, bloggers, and just about everybody else with a product to sell, blaring daily from the Internet. Half of the time I wonder if anyone is listening to anyone else on Facebook or if we are all just mindlessly spraying electronic graffiti on each other’s Walls? I don’t even understand Twitter and Google+ is so far beyond what I’m willing to do I refuse to even go there. Then my website went from being right up there at the top when you Googled me, to not even appearing in Google searches at all, and I have no fucking idea why ( please do not comment to tell me why it’s disappeared unless you can do so without a single techie word being used, or I will delete your comment. I’m not a techie. If you can offer a very simple solution without techie-speak I may let the comment stand, however ). The demand to need-to-know about everything from e-book conversion to Amazon sales rankings gives me a headache and a serious inclination to raid the booze cabinet. I suddenly found all my desire to write down words of fiction waning. I came very close to hating it all and just wanting to go be a street sweeper for the local council instead.
Then I decided to have a bit of fun with it all. Because, you know, I think that’s what is missing from today’s endless round of “ Like my page!” and “ Follow me back!” A little bit of good old-fashioned fun in marketing. So I did something I do know how to do, I created a YouTube channel, and I made a daft little PR video starring my dog. And lo, it did make me laugh, and it did also make some other peeps laugh. And that gladdened my near-jaded little heart once more.
So, I’ve decided to fuck the self-seriousness and go with what I know best. Instead of demanding that you all “ Like my page!” I shall be asking you all “ Would you like some laughter with your promotion?” Because I know I do.
And here it is…My Advert Starring THE DOG. Hope you like it.

And then go check out the website HERE:
The New Orleans Mysteries

Bounding Along Nicely With Yoshi

2012-01-31T16:44:00.000Z

Blind Curves by Diane Anderson-Minshall

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The cover blurb for this book made it sound a little different from the run-of-the-mill murder/mystery-heavy-on-the-romance which flourishes in lesbian publishing and to my happy surprise, it lived right up to the blurb.
Rosemary Finney, the most hated woman in lesbian publishing, has been murdered. The prime suspect is her ex-girlfriend, journalist Velvet Erickson who recently had a blazing public argument with Rosemary and threatened to kill her. However, all is not so clear cut. It quickly becomes apparent that Rosemary has more enemies than you could shake a lesbian romance novel at. Velvet is given 48 hours by the court in which to clear her name and to do so she hires private detective Yoshi Yakamoto and the Blind Eye Agency.
This is a plot-driven novel. As the title suggests there are lots of blind curves around which it takes us before the real killer and motive are revealed. Events bound along quite pleasingly in between, with the romantic entanglements ( and there are those ) kept to a sub-plot and never allowed to over-shadow the mystery element. The writing is witty, for the most part relevant to the plot, if occasionally heavy on the fashion and lifestyle references. Perhaps you don’t get “deep” into the characters heads and hearts but I didn’t mind that at all. Too much angst-ridden contemplation of motivation here would have slowed the plot down. You know what you need to know about the characters. As it was, the single jarring element in the narrative was the unintentionally hilarious descriptive turn of phrase “ hot breath building up between them like LA smog”… but that would be a gripe toward the editor and not the writers. All writers can occasionally get carried with our own cleverness. That’s why we have editors who should be red-penning this kind of flowery stuff out of existence.
As an aside, this book was given one very stinging bad review on Amazon. It’s interesting to note that the review has since disappeared and sad in a way, too, because every less-than glowing review taken down makes it seem like authors think readers are not discerning enough to make up their own minds. Or am I really the exception who was encouraged to read the novel for myself by the review ( which, whilst veering often into the unnecessarily personal, did make a couple of valid points )? It made such a refreshing change from the feeling that there is some secret policy on never posting anything but reviews dripping in glowing praise-diamonds where LGBT books are concerned. Curb the right of readers to give an honest opinion too many times and it will surely result in less of them being willing to give such reviews. Is that really what LGBT writers want?

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No Unicorns Pooping Rainbows, Thank Heaven!

2012-01-20T15:19:00.000Z

Steam-Powered: Lesbian Steampunk Stories by JoSelle Vanderhooft

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Let me start by saying that romance is not my favorite genre to read, and lesbian romance in particular more often than not grates on me with its insistence on everything working out as perfectly as unicorns pooping rainbows.

However, this collection of lesbian steampunk-themed romantic shorts from Torquere Press is well written, the romance is not necessarily of the happy-ever-after-coated-in-sugar-rainbows variety, and the steampunk is pretty darn good from what I can tell as a relative newbie to that genre. The alternative worlds built by the writers are convincing and if the science of steampunk still baffles me a bit, it thankfully wasn't overly-complicated here. Only one out of the sixteen stories in the collection really left me bored enough to skip the ending, and I was particularly intrigued by 'Suffer Water' by Beth Wodzinski and 'Under The Dome' by Teresa Wymore, each of which is themed by human-machine and human-animal hybridization respectively. I would have read either of these as full-length novels.

A good buy if you like steampunk and you like romance, but not necessarily having the latter shoved down your throat.

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Scary Monsters & Super-Creeps of the Silver Screen

2012-01-19T19:59:00.000Z

Today I want to look at horror movie serial killers. I want to do so just because I’m in that mood and I can. Come and look with me if you are bored, curious, or just love horror movies and serial killers so much that you can’t resist looking at anything has even a remote connection to them.

First of all, let’s consider some of the basic qualifications required to be a horror movie serial killer. These chaps ( most are chaps, although the Alien Queen whom Ripley memorably called a bitch would qualify as one of the exceptions to that rule ) all have important traits in common: they are implacable and they are impervious. Meaning they just won’t stop and they can’t be killed. Not by drowning, burning, or dropping them from a great height, nor by shooting them repeatedly or stabbing them with sharp things. Once you have engaged these fuckers, they aren’t going away anytime soon. They also are very, very angry, and they share a florid ability for coming up with painful and excessively gory ways to take their anger out on you. Oh, and they all tend to have terrible taste in fashions. Dirty striped jumpers and boiler suits are all too common.

So, without further ado, let us look at my personal Top 10 of horror moviedom’s scary monsters and super-creeps in no particular order of nastiness or longevity.

1. Jason Voorhees ( Friday 13th, Friday 13th Part 2 et al ). Jason is the extreme example of what can happen when a kid is abused, neglected, bullied, or otherwise traumatized early in life. Poor little Jason drowned at summer camp because the smug, obnoxious teenage camp counselors were too busy drinking, smoking pot, and screwing each other’s brains out to notice that one of their junior charges was, in fact, drowning and not just fucking waving at them. Only Jason didn’t die. Well, not exactly. It’s never really explained properly. It’s a horror movie serial killer thing. Just go with it, okay? Jason grew up into a big strapping lad who took to wearing a boiler suit and a hockey mask and picking off other smug, obnoxious teenage camp counselors. He started out with a machete, but over the course of eight or ten movies ( I forget the exact number ) he branched out to use pretty much everything he could lay hands on. Every time Jason was about to kill someone he - and we, the terrified audience - would hear the frantically whispered mantra “ KillKillKillKill!” which was sooooo fucking creepy. You were at risk from Jason if you were a counselor at Camp Crystal Lake and you indulged in drinking, smoking pot, swimming nude in the lake, or having sex with Kevin Bacon. Of course, there are many of us would love to skewer Kevin Bacon through his vitals but that has nothing to do with Jason Voorhees. Moving swiftly on then…

2. Michael Myers ( Halloween, Halloween 2 et al ). Michael was the little boy who developed a weird and ultimately dangerous fetishistic obsession with sisters and babysitters, particularly if these were involved in sexual activity. Sex plays a huge role ( pun, double entendre, and all the rest fully intended ) in creating serial killers out of these guys. Michael, too, grew up to be a big strapping lad who liked to wear boiler suits and creepy-ass masks and go around doing violently stabby things to young ladies. And occasionally to his psychiatrists. The Halloween movies gave us the most memorably creepy oh-shit-the-psycho-is-in-the-house music ever. It also gave us Laurie Strode, played by the greatest Scream Queen ever, Jamie Lee Curtis, most memorably shoving a knitting needle into Michael’s eye socket. Didn’t kill him though. But thank you, John Carpenter. You are a god.

3. Freddy Krueger ( Nightmare On Elm Street, NOES Part 2 et al ). Freddy is perhaps the only example in movie history of a sadistic, perverted, child molesting serial killer to become a horror movie icon and anti-hero. Once upon a longish time ago, in a quietly nightmarish suburb of Middle America, when the courts failed to convict child-killer Freddy Krueger, the local parents and police chief took matters into their own hands. They burned Freddy alive in a basement incinerator. One can only imagine these clueless adults must never have watched a horror movie in their lives, otherwise they’d have known the shit load of trouble they were inviting in. Freddy proceeded, in best movie serial killer tradition, to come back from whatever corner of Hades these guys reside in, and to quite literally haunt the dreams of the teenage progeny of those who so cruelly cut his child-killing career short. Many people died in bloody, horrible ways and Heather Lagenkamp could never take a bubble bath again without seeing Freddy’s famous razor-fingered gloved hand popping shark fin-like out of the bubbles and trying to slice her in two. Thank you, Wes Craven, for you also are a god, and we love Freddy.

By the way, are you seeing a pattern emerging here? The fact that there is so often more than bloody one of these movies? Proves that you can’t keep a good serial killer, or a good movie franchise, down. But you would be forgiven for thinking that by Friday 13th Part 8 people might have at least thought about closing down Camp Crystal Lake and well, maybe burning the cursed place to the ground or something? Anyway, onwards and downwards into the bowels of Hell…

4. Jaws ( Jaws, Jaws 2 et al ). Bruce the Shark, as he was known during filming, is the only real-life creature to make it onto this list because, let’s face it, what’s scarier than a big, angry Great White shark snapping off your arms and legs whilst you innocently surf the waves? Jaws gave us yet more memorably creepy music as the shark menacingly stalked a nubile young swimmer, and chomped off her various vital bits, thus incurring the wrath of Roy Scheider. And making practically everyone on earth too fucking terrified to go near the water for years. Steven Spielberg is a very cruel man. Don’t be fooled by ET. The man has a twisted streak a mile wide.

5. Chucky ( Childs Play, Childs Play 2 et al ). What could be more deliciously depraved than a red-headed, freckle-faced talking doll named Chucky possessed by the angry, vengeful spirit of a serial killer? It’s a sure-fire winner with horror movie fans. For a while Chucky and the Childs Play movies received a lot of unwarranted bad press when some depressingly horrific events in real life were blamed on the movie by a society too shocked and scared to admit that some parents can manage to psychologically fuck up their own kids without any help at all from movies. But society eventually came to its senses and Chucky was allowed to return from his temporary banishment to the attic. Yay.

6. The Alien ( Alien, Aliens et al ). Big, nasty-ass bio-mechanical alien creatures with corrosive acid for blood and two vicious snapping sets of jaws. Oh, and a penchant for watching Sigourney Weaver strip to her undies in a space craft. But we can hardly blame it for that, can we? ;-) Space is a fucking dangerous place. Go there, start terra-forming planets, and next thing you know you’ve got a flattened out leathery crab-thing on you face, impregnating you ( and no, it isn’t Kevin Bacon ) and after a few hours another squirming, screeching, be-fanged alien creature will come bursting out of your chest cavity and grow into one of those big, nasty-ass acid-blood bugs. Thank heaven and all things cute and holy then for Sigourney Weaver, for she is the goddess who will single-handedly save us from this space-bug menace. “ Get away from her, you bitch!” Yes, ma’am.

Ripley. " You go, gurl!"

7. Leather Face ( The Texas Chainsaw Massacre ). Leather Face is a bit pathetic really, as scary monsters and super-creeps go. Living in that slaughterhouse with that weird family, getting pestered by stupid, doped-up, smug teenagers looking for a phone to use ’cos their ratty old campervan broke down…For fuck’s sake, do we LOOK like we have a goddamned phone here???…I’d be after them with a chainsaw too, disturbing my inbred peace like that. Pathetic or not, however, Leather Face deserves a slot on this list because anybody can dance with a chainsaw like that has to be on the list.

8. Dracula ( too many movies to list ). What would a list of movie monsters be without the ultimate monster, the King of Vampires, Count Dracula himself? It would be for shit, that’s what. Of course, Dracula is the only monster appearing on this list who also qualifies as being sexy. Unless you’re into hockey masks and machetes or child-killers with seriously messed-up faces, and if you are, please keep it to yourself, thank you. Whether he is being portrayed by Bela Lugosi, Frank Langella ( who was The Best Dracula Ever in my opinion, and no, there is nothing humble about my opinion, bitches ), or Gary Oldman, Dracula is one sexy beast and as much as we might shudder in fear at the sight of those gleaming fangs sinking into the pure white neck of some fainting maiden, we’re also kinda, sorta jealous of her. Dracula, and vampires in general, are possibly the most enduring of the ‘traditional’ horror movie scary monsters and super-creeps ( which would also include werewolves and mummies ) and we salute every director and writer who has ever treated us to these sexy, scary beings. Gods. All.

9. The Martians ( War of The Worlds ). I don’t know about you, but every time I hear that mysterious, mechanical where-the-fuck-is-it-coming-from low-grade humming sound seems to infest certain parts of the world, or see another of those creepy sink holes open up in Guatemala or wherever, my mind can’t help but go straight to, Oh shit, the Martians are here! and Jeff Wayne’s musical accompaniment starts playing in my head. Admit it, those Martians were scary, and their big-legged metal fighting machines, the Tripods, those were just wrong. It was like spiders had grown huge and were stomping on all the humans has ever stomped on them. I mean, imagine if that happened…

10. Death ( Final Destination, Final Destination 2 et al ). That most implacable and impervious of foes, Death, unseen for the entire franchise but no less scary for it, started out hunting down Ali Larter and friends after they inadvertently escaped one of the most convincing on-screen depictions of an airplane blowing up and tearing itself in half that I’ve ever seen, or ever want to see again. I fucking hate flying as it is. The next installment saw the ever-lovely AJ Cook predicting a pile-up on the freeway and so temporarily saving herself and her comrades from getting unceremoniously creamed. Of course, they all spent the rest of the movie getting, well, unceremoniously creamed. Over the course of the franchise numerous hapless teens have first miraculously escaped Death’s clutches only to be later decapitated, squashed, ripped apart, and killed in just about every other vomit-making gruesome way you can think of. Death will not have its greedy clutch denied. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

So there you have it. This has been a Slightly Tipsy Afternoon Production. It is by no means a comprehensive listing of all horror movie scary monsters and super-creeps, and I both apologize and give a clutching-my-Oscar-to-my-bosom heartfelt shout-out to all those whom I forgot on my relentless climb to the top. You may disagree with some of those on my list. That is, as Britney Spears and Bobby Brown before her said, your prerogative. And I could give a shit. Especially if you think I should have included Jigsaw from the SAW movies. They dropped off my list around the fifth installment when the whole franchise stopped being the least bit entertaining and veered into pointless ‘video nasty’ territory. Feel free to complain about my omission to your local MP or congressman or whatever.

Facehugger. Not Kevin Bacon.

Chestbuster. Messy little devil.

Man in rubber suit. Not scary at all.

Mari SanGiovanni wishes us 'Greetings From Jamaica...'

2012-01-17T16:49:00.000Z

Greetings From Jamaica, Wish You Were Queer by Mari SanGiovanni

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

'Greetings From Jamaica, Wish You Were Queer' warns you “this book may make you laugh out loud in public”. Although I didn’t quite do that, it did give me a few silent chuckles for all the right reasons.
Marie Santora inherits a fortune from her grandmother and takes her crazy Italian family to Jamaica with it, as a parting gift before she departs for a new life as a screenwriter in Hollywood. Also turning up unexpectedly in Jamaica is Lorn Elaine, the actress Marie has been “stalking” in an attempt to get Lorn to read her script. Thus the scene is set for misunderstandings and romance.
I’m a sucker for fiction involves crazy, unruly families and incident-prone protagonists, and Mari SanGiovanni’s debut novel certainly delivers on both those counts. Marie is a likeable protagonist and I was left curious enough about her to wonder if the writer plans a follow-up? The book was a tad long for my liking at 256 pages. A comic romance like this may have been more comfortable edited down to around 200 pages, but that’s an editing beef not a writer one.
'Greetings From Jamaica'… would be an ideal book to read whilst lazing on the beach with a pitcher of cold margaritas.

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" Most People Just Do It!"

2012-01-14T19:40:00.000Z

WARNING!

May Contain A Smattering of Words of an Adult Nature!!!

One of these days I’m going to get myself a tee-shirt printed with my favorite pic of SSA Emily Prentiss and underneath that I’ll have printed her famous line: “ I’m not most people.”

And the reason for this ( other than just wanting an Emily Prentiss tee-shirt ) is that I find myself pressed to speak these very words to varying people at least two or three times in an average week.

Let me explain. Just one of the things can bug the ever-loving crap out of me in this life are people who, when asked why they want you to do something, respond by getting that deer-in-the-headlights look and stuttering, “ Well…em…I don’t know…it’s just because…most people just do it!” Whatever ‘it’ happens to be. Fill in the form. Hand out your personal PIN number. Drop and give the asker fifty. This endlessly irritating statement is most often accompanied by a smile so fake it’s a wonder it doesn’t turn the asker’s lips green, and much nervous tittering as they come to the apparently personally devastating realization that they do not, in fact, know why. They have themselves been following the orders given to them by others for so long they have stopped noticing that they haven’t a clue why they do most of the things they spend every… goddamned… day… of their lives doing.

Well, not this person.

If you’re going to ask me to do something and I don’t already know why, I’m going to ask why. And when I ask, if your reply is any variation of “ Well…em…I don’t…It’s just because…most people just do it!” ( cue nervous titter ) be warned that shit ain’t gonna fly. You will hear me say:

“ I’m not most people.”

Hence my reason for wanting the Emily tee-shirt. I get bored with repeating myself, so why not have a tee-shirt says it for me? ( And I get to have Emily Prentiss on my chest. There really is a silver lining in every cloud, Virginia! ) And it’s more polite than a tee-shirt says, “ Well, find the fuck out why before you ask me!”

It amazes me…it scares me somewhat too, and it certainly disheartens me…to realize how many people go through life blindly following orders and allowing themselves to be at the unquestioning behest of others, even when it makes no sense nor would seem to serve a productive purpose to do so. If an action performed at the behest of another - especially if the other is any nameless, faceless bureaucrat or bureaucratic organization - has no clear purpose or advantage to anyone involved, you ought to be at least mildly suspicious of it. Why does the meat-space storekeeper from whom you’ve just made a one-off cash purchase require your email address? You don’t expect to ever be in his store again. He has no need to contact you. Could it be he is intending to SPAM you? *Gasp!*

I’ll bet a lot of you reading this were thinking, “ Well, it’s probably just because…”

Two of the most dangerous words in the English language… “ just because”. Try counting up the amount of times you have done something or gone along with something “just because” you’ve thought “most people just do it”. Scared yourself there, I bet.

Now try something different. Try not just doing something because most people are doing it. Ask why you’re doing it first. Even if it’s just for one day. If nothing else you might give yourself a smile when you see that deer-in-the-headlights look and hear the nervous tittering before the spluttered, “ Well…em…I don’t…It’s just because…most people just do it!”

And remember. The only stupid question is the one you didn’t ask.

Emily is not most people. And neither am I.

Happy Halloween, Ghouls & Boils!

2011-10-31T01:25:00.000Z

Even the Grim Reaper deserves some Halloween candy!
piZap.com free online photo editor

I'm Coming Out...Oh, wait, done that already...

2011-10-11T16:36:00.000+01:00

So it’s National Coming Out Day for the LGBT community, is it? Wouldn’t it be nice if the world were someday to reach a point in its social evolution where ‘coming out’ wasn’t even necessary? After all, one doesn’t see National Coming Out Day for, say, opera fans. And that’s O-P-E-R-A, as in people in fancy period costumes prancing around a stage and loudly singing a tale of love, betrayal, and revenge in a foreign language, not Oprah. Although I suppose we could have a National Coming Out Day for her fans, too. I just think it says a lot about how backward the world still is that we need a National Day to make LGBT people feel better and more secure about coming out. Your sexuality should be no more anyone else’s business to make an issue out of ( well, besides the business of whomever you intend to have sex with, of course ) than the color of your underwear. Which presumably might also be the business of whomever you intend to have sex with to make an issue of, although not for long if you’re doing it right ;-)... It’s not as though at the age of forty you would find yourself saying to your parents, “ Mom. Dad. I have something to tell you. I’m a Formula One racing fan. You’re not too shocked, are you? You do still love me, don’t you?” So why should you be put through an emotional wringer about revealing your sexuality to anyone?

And if we must have a National Coming Out Day for the LGBT community, for the love of Prada, can’t we make it at least a wee bit fun and glamorous? I know we have Pride Days for parades and all that, but it’s our coming out and we should be allowed to make a party of it if we want to. So let’s make it a vodka-and-beer-soaked holiday parade of gays, lesbians, drag queens and kings, all the trans men and women, all our fag hags and lettie bags, and every other fabulous creature ( nod to GeeGee there…go check out her website Two Fat Cows And A Bottle Of Goose…it’s fabulous, too! ) on this green earth. Show the homophobes, who continue with their rabid ignorance to force us to make an issue of ‘coming out’ at all, exactly how dreary a place the world would be without us in it.

For National Coming Out Day...and just because there's always time for some glam-disco!

Loser's Town ( by Johnny Depp's Brother! )

2011-10-07T18:57:00.000+01:00

Loser's Town by Daniel Depp

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

After sleazy “fixer” Richie Stella does up-and-coming movie star Bobby Dye a favor by making a problem disappear, Bobby finds himself the subject of blackmail. Aware of what a scandal could do to his fledgling career, Dye hires PI David Spandau to sort Richie and the mess out. But this being Hollywood, things are, of course, not quite what they seem.
Daniel Depp ( brother of actor Johnny ) steps out of his role as screenwriter and into that of novelist in his first work, a wise-cracking modern noir detective story set in Hollywood. Depp introduces us here to David Spandau, one-time stuntman-turned-investigator. Spandau has all the requisite features of a noir PI: he’s weary and cynical, he drinks, he wise-cracks his way through life, he is the ban of his grumpy boss’s life, he’s still in love with his ex-wife, and deep down he feels he’s on the side of the angels. The plot doesn’t throw up too many surprises within the genre either.
But familiarity in this case is a good thing well enough done by Depp. The story jogs along at a nice pace, the characters interact with lines that occasionally make you actually laugh out loud, and Depp’s writing style, although simplistic, is entertaining enough to get away with it. If there is one thing I appreciate about how screenwriters handle novel-writing it is that they have learned the value of “less is more”. They know when a sentence will suffice rather than a paragraph. The fact that the plot is as thin as your average supermodel is neither here nor there.

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Not Embracing The Change Doesn't Make You A Bad Person!

2011-09-24T16:35:00.000+01:00

It really is okay to admit that you don’t like change. Not all change is either good for us nor done for the greater good, despite what the self-appointed cereal-packet therapists try to tell you, or what the brainwashed-by-the-Establishment middle-class herd wants to believe in order not to disturb its rose-hued vision of everything being well and taken good care of, Citizen. Not embracing every change then does not make you some kind of fearful Luddite bent on returning us all to a dark and dreary yesteryear. It makes you an individual capable of taking off the rose-hued spectacles and thinking for yourself.

The recent Facebook changes have met with a storm of protest from users, mostly because people feel that these changes have been railroaded through without Facebook apparently giving a flying status update about what its users think. Naturally, not consulting people on changes that will affect them is going to cause consternation. Not caring that it is causing consternation is what jars people to outright anger and resistance. Also, at the present moment it is hard for many of us to see where these changes are ‘improving’ our social networking experience rather than making it simply hard work and a headache, and no acknowledgement from Facebook of the problems faced by its users does not diminish our anger or will-to-resistance. It is easy, on the other hand, to see Facebook as caring less about its users than about achieving a kind of internet domination achieved by gathering as much personal information as possible from users for the purpose of luring in more advertisers and thus greater revenue for the CEOs and shareholders.

Some argue that Facebook is a ‘free’ service and therefore we should all put up and shut up as far as the changes go. This argument turns itself in circles when you realize that Facebook is only a free service insofar as the user doesn’t pay an upfront monetary charge to use it. We pay for our usage in other ways, however, by providing information to advertisers via our likes, status updates, links etc. Without users, advertisers would find no purpose in Facebook because they’d have no audience to target, therefore there would be no staggeringly huge profit to be made and no Facebook. Besides, providing a free service does not entitle the provider to change what it likes, whenever it likes, without consulting its users, not unless the price of using a free service is wearing the yoke of dictatorship? In which case it isn’t a free service… and around and around we go. But we end up at the same point: there’s no such thing as a free lunch, or a truly free social networking experience.

Protest and complaint are the legitimate ways by which we voice our displeasure at changes affecting us negatively. How else would the entity behind the changes, be it government or social network, know that it has done anything wrong in the eyes of its service users? ‘Putting up and shutting up’ is what a brainwashed and cowed population does. Is that what we have become…the zombie foot-soldiers of Facebook, marching in mindless obedience to the beat of the profit drum?

Or can we still view things clearly enough without our rose-spectacles to see that we are being so used, and to then realize that we really do have the right to rebel, to tell our wannabe Facebook masters that we don’t like it, we don’t want it, and goddammit, we won’t have it?

My Top 10 TV Crime Fighters ( Male )

2011-08-07T19:37:00.000+01:00

Usually I have much to say about the ladies of TV Land’s crime-fighting programs but today, in the interests of equality and all that is fair, I will give this post over to the crime-fighting chaps who weekly rid the world of bad things at the sides of their female counterparts. My Top 10 TV Crime Fighters ( Male ) then would look like this:

Coming in at NO. 10, but definitely not the least for being last, is body language expert and cheeky git Dr Cal Lightman ( Tim Roth ). Although 'Lie To Me' has now been canceled by those clueless networks, Cal remains a lovably roguish crime fighter. He might not have been hunk-handsome but he had a certain sly charm made him sexy, certainly it was good enough to make him attractive to cute colleague Dr Gillian Foster which makes him good enough for me then.

At NO. 9 and once described as “a pipe cleaner with eyes” is the BAU’s Dr Spencer Reid ( Matthew Gray Gubler ), who brings geek-chic to swoonsome new levels for many a 'Criminal Minds' fan. Spence needs to be my little brother ASAP, he’s puppy-dog-level adorable! It also has to be said that on top of his genius, neither is Spence is a bad shot for someone who once failed his yearly FBI firearms proficiency test! At least he’s a better shot than colleague SSA Emily Prentiss ( as much as I am chagrined to say so ) who over the course of six seasons has continually failed to hit anything smaller than the side of a barn, and I might even doubt that. Of course, if you need some sharp shooting in a tight situation, the smart money is always on JJ…

Striding in at NO. 8 with the ever-present cup o’ joe in hand, is the one, the only, the legendary Leroy Jethro Gibbs ( Mark Harmon ) of 'NCIS'. A man of few words and steely-blue eyes, it’s no surprise that often the distressed damsels prefer to put themselves in the care of this Silver Fox than that of younger agent Tony DiNozzo.

At NO. 7 is yet another of the BAU’s best, the delicious SSA David Rossi ( Joe Mantegna ) also of 'Criminal Minds'. The original profiler and the man for whom the no-fraternization rule was made, Rossi has that roguish, twinkly-eyed, slightly grizzled, bad-boy charm in spades. So much of it does Rossi possess, in fact, that I’m pretty certain even the disagreeable Section Chief Erin Strauss secretly harbors a crush on him! As disturbing an image as that may be for many Rossi fans… I do apologize! Let me make it up to you with a pic of Rossi looking all mean 'n' moody...

Anonymously avenging the justice system’s mistakes at NO. 6 is sexy serial killer Dexter Morgan ( Michael C Hall ) of the eponymous 'Dexter'. Never has murder looked so good as it does wrapped up in the package that is the blood-splatter-analyst-by-day-serial-killer-by-night Dex. And besides, any guy who has a wonderfully foul-mouthed, man-shirt-wearing, sexy cynic of a sister like Detective Debra Morgan ( Jennifer Carpenter ) absolutely must be on this list! I long for the day that Deb realizes men are just not her forte and embraces her latent lesbianism…

At N0. 5 is Sheriff Rick Grimes ( Andrew Lincoln ) of 'The Walking Dead'. Rick may have swapped fighting crime for fighting zombies, but he still looks damn good doing it, and without a doubt he’d be my go-to guy for any living dead problems I might have…well, you never know these things. Do you know for sure that the government isn’t working on creating an army of zombie-soldiers? No. Well. Just sayin’.

At NO. 4 we have another unconventional crime-fighter, Guerrero ( Jackie Earle Haley ), the Man of Only One Name, from 'Human Target', another show canceled by the stupid networks. Forget Chance, forget Winston, the little guy in the glasses is the one I want standing between me and the people hellbent on making me a non-living soul. Kind of like Dexter, Guerrero is a borderline psychopath on the right side of justice, if not quite the law, and the man does have great taste in clothes. I must agree with Mrs Pucci on that one.

Bringing us into the Top 3 at NO. 3 is Deputy Marshall Raylan Givens ( Timothy Olyphant ). The handsome modern-day cowboy of 'Justified' sure knows how to fill a pair of jeans and a Stetson, every damn week making me wish that Raylan had a twin sister also happened to be a lesbian…*sigh*… The man also has the most perfect freaking hair I’ve ever set eyes on, not to mention that wonderful Southern drawl, and damn, can he shoot! Please…someone give this guy a gay twin sister…then put her and Deb Morgan together…

In at NO. 2 in a closely-fought crime-fighter race for the top spot, is The Man That Is Sam Axe ( Bruce Campbell ). Sidekick of 'Burn Notice’s spy Michael Westin, Sam epitomizes cool and he knows how to Get Shit Done. He’s Sam Axe. He’s Bruce Campbell. What else is there to say? He rocks either way.

But, coming in at NO. 1 with a bullet, is the Classic of all Crime Fighters, the hero extraordinaire, The Ginger One himself, the only man who can wear the Sunglasses of Justice, it is Lieutenant Horatio Cain ( David Caruso ) of 'CSI: Miami' fame. Oh yes, if Horatio were a real crime-fighter in the real world, we could all sleep safe and sound in our beds at night, knowing we were being protected by a man true of heart, upright of intent, way smarter than the criminals, as invincible as his sunglasses, a man who can wear black suits in hundred-degree Miami heat and not lose his cool for a moment. Vegas may have survived the departure of Gil Grissom but Miami…nay, the world…will always need Horatio Cain.

" He who wears the Sunglasses of Justice must be invincible..."

Oh, just stop fighting it, Deb. We all know you look too damn good in a man's shirt to be anything but gay...!

Need some shootin' done...? Smart money's on this blonde...not the other blonde, who just needed to be shot!

Making pipe cleaners sexy for six seasons!

Oh, stop denying it, Strauss, you want a piece of the marvelousness is Dave Rossi, too!

Fascinating Stuff In The Junk Box...

2011-07-31T00:12:00.000+01:00

Ooh, an email from the FBI...seems the Bureau haven't enough work to do these days so they are sub-contracting themselves out to Nigerian banks to trace long-lost relatives who have inheritances awaiting. Just send all your private bank details to this nice bank managar ( yes, that is how it was spelled ) in Nigeria and he will promptly send you that $10 million dollars that Great-Uncle Fester left you, for some reason having chosen to leave it in the care of a bank several thousands of miles distant from the USA in which he was resident...except WAIT A MINUTE! I don't have a Great-Uncle Fester, and that isn't the real FBI logo...

How stupid do they think we are?

And oooh tripled, looky at this...another email, this one from Mr Charles ELVIS... he wants to notify me of a payment awaiting me on e-bay and I should just pop all my details over to him in -surprise! - Nigeria so that he can make sure I get this payment. It's odd because I don't have an e-bay account...? Never have had.

Mr Elvis, please leave the building.

Pleased To Make The Acquaintance of Miss Alexia Tarabotti

2011-07-10T15:49:00.000+01:00

Soulless by Gail Carriger

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Every now and then a constant reader like me will stumble delightedly upon book treasure. Gail Carrier’s ‘The Parasol Protectorate’ novels are a fine example of this. Set in a Victorian England where the supernatural and preternatural have been integrated into society, high society very often at that, Carriger manages to combine paranormal mystery, a touch of horror, some surprisingly erotic historical romance, and steampunk, all wrapped up in some deft comic touches. Although the books are too vastly different to bear comparison, Carriger produces in protagonist Miss Alexia Tarabotti a heroine to easily rival Sookie Stackhouse for likeability and ingenuity.

Miss Alexia Tarabotti is considered too old at 25, and too swarthy given her Italian father, to be eligible for marriage within London society. Fortunately for Alexia, she is content with her independent life of books, good food, chaperoning her rather more pale and eligible sisters, and occasionally interfering in the work of the Bureau of Unnatural Registry which keeps track of all the super- and preternaturals in the British Empire on behalf of Queen Victoria. BUR is headed by Scottish Alpha werewolf Lord Conall Maccon, who Miss Tarabotti dislikes most intensely, and the feeling is mutual…or at least that’s what the two keep trying to tell themselves. Alexia’s most recent interference has resulted in the death of an unregistered vampire, courtesy of her handy silver-tipped parasol, and this brings her into both conflict and cooperation with the big, gruff, scruffily handsome Lord Maccon.

Gail Carriger, from what I can gather, is an American with a an ex-pat Brit mother and a mild obsession with British culture which she has put to good use indeed. On occasion the writer’s use of certain idioms, and the manners of her characters, betray the fact that she is not a native of the country of her setting. But it really doesn’t matter a whit, as Miss Tarabotti might put it, because these books are fabulously enjoyable. For me anyway, whenever I find a story and characters that I can get my teeth sunk right into, I find it very easy to overlook small technical inaccuracies and the odd grammatical mishap.

‘Soulless’ is the first book in the series. I’ve just started ’Changeless’, the second installment. The books really do need to be read in sequence in order to make sense of Alexia’s life and tribulations with the supernatural community. I’ve had to practically nail my hands to floor to stop myself from buying copies of each installment right now and shutting my ears to the pained squeals of my credit card!

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Fact vs Fiction

2011-06-21T16:44:00.000+01:00

Whenever I hear someone say “ Oh that would never happen in real life!” about something they have seen on a TV cop show or read in a cop/mystery novel, I want to grind my teeth. I also want to tell them, “ No, it wouldn’t happen in real life, but that isn’t real life you’re watching/reading. It’s fiction. And the point of fiction is to entertain.”

Real life is just not that entertaining. The day-to-day reality of the average police officer’s life is taken up with paperwork and court testimony, neither of which makes for giddy viewing. The rest, too, is often non-glamorous calls such a petty thefts, petty assaults, domestics, and traffic incidents. Spend an evening watching those fly-on-the-wall cop documentaries and you’ll see just how similar they all are. It doesn’t matter whether the cops are in LA or London, most often you will see them dragging recalcitrant drunken students into vans, separating drunken friends who’ve decided to fight over some woman, or arresting some drunken driver. Even raids in reality tend to proceed smoothly, carried out deliberately at dawn when the occupants of a house are bound to be asleep and possibly hung-over, unlikely anyway to put up any significant resistance. On TV the raid will take place at night, usually when its pouring rain for atmosphere, and inside the crack house will be a dozen tough-guy gang members, all busily cutting rock cocaine on the kitchen table, and every one of them will have a huge-ass nine-mil in front of him, so that bad guys and cops can enter a tense Mexican stand-off, all pointing guns and screaming at each other. On TV the cops are always pointing their guns and shooting bad guys, and everyone pats them on the back and tells them “ Atta boy/girl!” In reality the average cop may draw his service weapon less than a dozen times in a full twenty-year career, and he may fire it ( outwith the practice range ) once or twice at most. Many cops will never fire their service weapon in their entire career. Discharging your weapon in reality sets off the kind of landslide of paperwork and IA aggravation that no cop needs or wants.

Many ex-cops-turned-writers-or-advisors will praise a show such as Southland for its ‘realistic portrayal of police procedure’ and whilst this may be true in many respects, they are turning a blind eye to the less realistic aspects of the show. For instance, in reality a uniformed cop with an obvious substance abuse problem, discovered drunk, stoned, and handcuffed naked to a bed at a disreputable party, and all whilst on active duty, would likely be dismissed from the Force for conduct unbecoming. A detective would never have to shoot a bad guy breaking into her home to find a witness ( and do so with the 12-guage shotgun she handily keeps in the hallway closet ) because in reality that detective would never have been allowed to take a vital child witness into her own home. Even ‘realistic’ shows like Southland need to inject a little unreality to keep the viewers hooked.

One of my own favorite TV cops shows, Criminal Minds, bears only the most distant resemblance to FBI procedural reality. There is a Behavioral Analysis Unit at Quantico but their work is mostly consultancy done via email and telephone. There is no team of ridiculously good-looking agents who travel around the country on a private jet and help the local law enforcement to solve their crimes. There certainly is no Miss Penelope Garcia doing whizzy things with computers!

These days, it isn’t just the cops either who solve crimes in fiction. We all know that CSI’s don’t carry weapons, they don’t interview witnesses, they don’t make arrests, and they certainly do not solve the crimes all by themselves…except on TV. The streets of LA were surely safer back in the day when Quincy, ME was running around doing the LAPD’s job for it. Two of today’s most successful crime writers are James Patterson and Harlan Coben. Patterson’s runaway success ‘The Women’s Murder Club’ employs a cop, a journalist, an ME, and a lawyer as a crime-solving team of women friends. Coben has Myron Bolitar, a sports agent who inevitably winds up embroiled in dangerous mystery situations on behalf of his clients. We, as viewers and readers, don’t sit around questioning the qualifications of these characters to solve crime, we simply jump aboard and enjoy the ride that they take us on. Yes, every now and then a TV show or novel will jump the shark, stretching the viewer or reader’s willing suspension of disbelief to breaking point, but we accept this and we move on, usually with minimal rancor. We do so because we understand that fiction is allowed to take these kinds of liberties with reality. It is by this means that it entertains us.

So, to all of those who cry “Oh that would never happen in real life!” I would like to say also… if you want to be educated, read a police manual. But if you just want to be entertained, read Patterson.

"Hey, we're CSI's...we do all the work!"

" I am ... Dracula."

2011-06-13T23:47:00.000+01:00

There have been many Draculas come and gone on our screens, big and small, through the years, but for me the greatest incarnations of the Mighty Fanged One still are Bela Lugosi in Todd Browning's 1931 movie, and Frank Langella in John Badham's 1979 version.

Browning's 'Dracula' sticks pretty close to the novel and is fitted with wall-to-wall cliches, from the oversized hovering bat ( " Be careful, it might get in your hair" Jonathan Harker warns Mina at one point, thus forever perpetrating an urban legend that bats will get tangled in your hair ) to the Count's cheesy-and-ham accent. Love him when he tells the suitably Freud-like Van Helsing, " Your will is strong" as the professor gamely resists the dastardly bat's mind-control shenanigans. The second half of Browning's movie rather sags its way into a sort of drawing-room drama with altogether less doing and more talking, but we should bear in mind that this movie was a very early talkie and they probably got a bit carried away with the novelty. The use of matte paintings and Hollywood backlots for outdoor Transylvannia sets is still remarkable and the whole thing is undoubtedly an eerily atmospheric, pretty rockin' classic. And if you can take nothing else at all from it, at least know that Dwight Frye is as mad as bag of spanners as Renfield!

John Badham's 1979 'Dracula' is rather more of a rock video and its eponymous anti-hero a suitable rock god sort of vampire. It also takes a few more liberties with the storyline, including introducing a romance between Dracula and Lucy Westenra, but who cares about liberties? It's Frank Langella. And he's gorgeous, in a lived-in-for-a-very-long-time, crumpled and dissipated sort of way.

Anyway, " Listen to them ... the children of the night. What music they make!" Failing being able to spend a night in a run-down, cobweb-festooned castle in some remote and craggy corner of Transylvannia with a man in a black cape and oversized canines, listening to the howls of the night's children and unexpectedly donating some of your blood, you could do worse than grab some popcorn and settle into your sofa to watch these movies back-to-back.

Emily Says:

2011-05-29T03:37:00.003+01:00

Death By Cucumber. Or Birdbath.

2011-05-29T02:09:00.005+01:00

With the recent linking of cucumbers - a vegetable so apparently unlikely to inspire fear and loathing - to an outbreak of a virulent strain of E.coli in Germany, it now seems to be official ...

Everything in the world is OUT TO GET US.

Humans, a puny species subject to being preyed upon by all manner of evil and nasty things, are consequently at war daily with pretty much each and every object and substance that we might come into even the most fleeting contact with. To judge by the daily reports of doom in the media ( and who does not believe in what the media tells us? ) we are taking one hell of a beating in this war. Think you'll be safe if you don't eat cucumbers? Think again. The cucumbers may have infected your lettuce. And your tomatoes. That summer salad isn't looking quite so 'healthy' now, is it? Don't imagine that you'll be cheating death by indulging in a steady diet of cheeseburgers and chicken nuggets either ... you do not even want to know how many sad unfortunates go to a purple-faced demise every day choking on their nuggets. And don't be so quick to reach for that calming glass of red wine just yet, not until you've absorbed that no one in the medical profession can come to a consensus of opinion on whether it will prolong your life, or just give you killer migraines. Do you REALLY want to take the risk?

If you should doubt any of this everyday danger by which we are faced, take a look at the annual Accident & Emergency reports compiled from NHS Trusts around the UK ( I daresay other countries have their versions of the same ). The figures published in these ( often unintentionally hilarious if you have a sense of humor anything like mine ) reports clearly illustrate how people are being constantly assailed and benighted by the contents of their own households, coming to grief on everything from birdbaths and ironing boards to tin openers and even their underwear. Every night we go to bed in peril of being strangled in our sleep by a legion of evilly-intended duvets. If you are lucky enough to actually wake up in the morning, all manner of hazards await you from the moment you set foot out of bed in the form of lurking slippers, sneaky soap dishes, treacherous toilet paper, and chairs that are anything but easy to get along with. Don't let your guard down if succeed in making it to the office either because therein awaits the terrifying gauntlet of pens, pencils, rubber bands, and the sharp edges of countless manila folders.

So be warned. That innocuous-seeming box of cornflakes on the kitchen counter? It could be plotting your demise right now.

Yes, it may look like an ordinary, innocent birdbath ... but do you really know what it's thinking?

New To Being Undead ...?

2011-05-26T13:55:00.001+01:00

The New Vampire's Handbook by THE VAMPIRE MILES PROCTOR

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

A wonderfully humorous little book full of tongue-in-cheek advice for those new to the life of the Undead, covering everything from the proper etiquette of biting someone in the neck and good fang hygiene, to how to dress without looking like a cheap Bela Lugosi imitation! Read it if you love everything vampire and want to spend an hour with a book makes you smile.

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This Just In ... Facebook Creates Zombies!

2011-05-22T01:26:00.006+01:00

A source more or less close to something or other has revealed to me that Facebook has been making secret preparations for the Zombie Apocalypse predicted by the CDC. From Friday 27th May, Facebook will be sneaking into your home whilst you are asleep to take samples of your brain for tastiness testing. The reason they are doing this is because Facebook has been breeding and training its own army of guard zombies to protect it during the Apocalypse. Apparently these guard zombies have, however, become dissatisfied with the genetically-modified freeze-dried re-hydrogenated faux-brains that their social network masters have been feeding them, and so Facebook needs real brains to keep their pets satisfied. Anyone whose brain sample passes the tastiness test will be subsequently abducted by the race of giant-lizard aliens who are secretly assisting Facebook in its dastardly plan, and taken to an underground complex somewhere so secret that even the aliens piloting the abduction crafts don't know where it is because they are required to wear blindfolds and fly by an autopilot system installed using a Facebook app. Once there, the abductees will have their tasty brains extracted to be fed to the guard zombies. What becomes of their bodies is at this time unknown. And it's probably best not to think about it anyway.

In order to avoid this grisly fate it is recommended that you lock all your doors and windows at night. Because they are just aliens after all, not Vegas magicians, they can't walk through bloody walls. You might also want to reconsider that alarm system you bought five years ago and never learned how to arm.

This information was passed to me via a dirty, crumpled handwritten note in a 'Understanding Your Psychosis 101' night class, by a friend - well, more of an acquaintance really - who got it from his ex-girlfriend's sister's boyfriend's third cousin, who was given it by a defrocked priest, who was told all of it by a parishioner during confession. Presumably before he was defrocked. Although I can't in all honesty vouch for that. It may not be the most reliable information, is what I'm saying. But I wouldn't recommend that you risk totally disregarding it either. Not where Facebook is concerned.

Big-ass lizardy-thing assisting Facebook.

Sadly, there'll be no Erica Evans to save our asses.

Another defrocked priest. Ours probably wasn't as chiselledly handsome as this guy.

Dear Facebook ...

2011-05-16T00:48:00.005+01:00

It strikes me that as far as making friends via social networks goes today, you may be in need of some updating.

Since the movie of your life came out even those of us who previously didn't care a jot about these things now know that you started out on your road to world domination as a rather more modest method for college students and other clique-prone sorts to keep tabs on their peeps, and hence users in those days tended to 'friend' people they were already personally acquainted with. But that was then and this is now. And what you need to know now, FB, is that the 500 million users of which you boast ( by the way, congrats on achieving that world domination ) have evolved their usage way beyond simply keeping tabs on their classmates' love lives. The activity of social networking is now conducted on a global scale, with many people who are otherwise unknown to each other daily interacting via cyberspace. And that, all told, is a good thing, knowledge being power and all that.

I want you to think a moment about a statistic, FB. The average number of people that the average person can know on a personal level is 150 ( 'personal' here meaning someone with whom you interact regularly in meat-space and whose birthday you can remember without a prompt down the side of the page ) and interestingly enough it continues to be 150 despite global social networking. However, the same average person has many, many more 'friends' than 150 in cyber-space. You, FB, allow your users to have 5000 such 'friends', and yet you expect them to know these 5000 personally. You cannot be serious? In fact, given that you have 500 million users, it wouldn't be unreasonable to suggest that this limit is on the miserly side. A word, too, about your 'friending warnings'. They beggar belief. Let's just think for a moment, FB, that a good deal of these friendings will have been made at suggestions you have put forward to users. Bit of an own goal there, eh?

" People may feel harrassed, threatened, or otherwise unsafe" you self-righteously pronounce on behalf of your entire 500 million users, at being subjected to something as ungodly petrifying as a friend request made in cyber-space.

Well, gee willickers, FB, I wonder how the human race has survived thousands of years of social interaction, made on a daily basis, with strangers, face-to-face, without you being around to police it for us? We have the option to 'unfriend' and even to block persons we do not desire to have in our cyber-lives, that's safe enough for most of us. We don't need the extra nannying from you, FB. Chill out.

Face it, FB. It's time to get with the modern social networking program, to realize what it means to be the global phenomenon that you are, and to try considering that your closest rivals, Twitter and MySpace, don't limit the amount of friends or followers a user can have, and guess what? The world hasn't ended because of it.

Garcia Says:

2011-05-14T17:34:00.002+01:00

It's Alright JJ's Comin' Back ... And Prentiss May Well Be, Too!

2011-05-14T02:05:00.007+01:00

There is no doubt that Season 6 of CBS's hit show 'Criminal Minds' found itself jumping a whole school of sharks, and it has been an irony - apparently not missed by the network - that the only episodes pleasing to fans and critics alike has been those concerned with the exit arcs of the two inexplicably and unforgivably fired actresses, AJ Cook and Paget Brewster. The latter's final fling, 'Lauren', although seen by US audiences nearly two months ago, only aired last week on UK TV, an otherwise ungodly annoying situation good only for having taken the sting out of the blow. By the time we saw Emily's did-she-die-or-didn't-she-die? finale, we already knew that no, she didn't. We also know that AJ Cook is returning full-time for Seasons 7 & 8, and that Brewster's pilot show 'My Life As An Experiment' has not been picked up to go to series, thus increasing her chances of returning to her own rightful place in the BAU. Co-star Joe Mantegna said he is "optimistic" about Brewster's return in an interview with TVLine.com Well, can I get a "Hell yeah!" on that?
On the whole Paget Brewster got a more deserving send-off than did poor AJ Cook but there were things nonetheless bothered me about 'Lauren'. Not least that Ashley Seaver got to play such a large role. Considering her unpopularity with we fans, it felt a bit like rubbing salt into an already very raw and aching wound. Personally, despite trying to find some means of at least tolerating her, ever since this character joined the show I have only been able to find her the human equivalent of Jar Jar Binks. I have watched her alternately clumsy and insipid delivery of teeth-grindingly inappropriate utterings with something approaching manic irritation ( No, Ashley, there is no chance in hell that a 10 yr-old autistic child is your Unsub ... go back to the Academy RIGHT NOW for even thinking that! ) but having to endure her declaring in the middle of 'Lauren' that she thinks dating a few narcissists makes her an expert on those, well, it made me want to throw something at the TV. And I love my TV. A great deal.
Putting Ashley aside for the moment ( Please, CBS, put her aside someplace ... anywhere that isn't the BAU ), what's done is done with regard to Prentiss, but the good news is it ain't anything can't be undone. Hurrah! All we need now is for the network to hire some new dedicated-to-canon writers who will make it their mission to find a suitable cliff to push Ashley over, and then we can all get on with forgetting that this horrible season ever happened. Me, I'm more than ready to make like Bobby Ewing waking up from a bad dream in the shower.

Yes, we will.

Kitsch(en) Heaven

2011-04-28T00:01:00.000+01:00

Ever since the lovely GeeGee Curtained posted a piece about Royal Wedding tat 'n' trinketry from Oddee on her blog Two Fat Cows And A Bottle Of Goose I have become quite fascinated by the idea of bespoke fridges. The company who makes these £2050 bad boys ( pictured above ), GEAppliances, claim they can put any photograph on your fridge, which is great since Wills 'n' Kate would not be my choice. I'm thinking more along the lines of JJ & Prentiss from Criminal Minds on mine. In full Kevlar. It'd be fangirl-in-kitsch(en)-heaven for me. Only thing is, I'd either put on a ton of weight or start seriously drinking again... any excuse to keep going back to the fridge! Now, I wonder how the bank manager would feel about giving me a loan of that two grand to buy my BAU's Best-bedecked bespoke fridge ...

Yes.

Just one more thing about the Royal Wedding tat ... is it my mind that is simply going to awful places or does that cruet set look a bit, well, phallic? I couldn't imagine shaking anything outta those onto my food ... I have, however, purchased a nice Royal Wedding ashtray for my housemate. Watching her stub her cigarette butts on a couple of royals just kind of appeals to a childishly subersive, rebellious part of me.
No.

Devon Marshall > Blog Entries | WritersCafe.org

2011-04-23T21:55:00.000+01:00

Devon Marshall > Blog Entries | WritersCafe.org

2011-04-23T16:15:00.000+01:00

Shoot Out : Surviving the Fame and (Mis)Fortune of Hollywood by Peter Bart

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I love Hollywood, from past to present, technical to gossip, and I have a large collection of books reflecting this. I bought this one because it appeared to be in the mould of Julia Philips's 'You'll Never Eat Lunch In This Town Again' and William Goldman's 'Adventures In The Screen Trade', and whilst that is true to a degree, 'Shoot Out' is still not quite as good as either of those. Written by two long-time insiders, Peter Bart and Peter Gruber, both studio heads and movie producers at one time or another, it is on the whole an entertaining read. It did get quite technically detailed at times, to the point of being dry, especially when the authors are describing the financial shenanigans of today's 'corporate Hollywood'. Still, I suppose financial wheeling and dealing isn't easy to make sexy unless you are Gordon Gecko!

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A sad, senseless farewell to a beloved character ...

2011-01-15T19:16:00.000Z

Sorry, Reid. They can just take her away.

Beginning its 6th Season on UK TV on 7th January 2011, 'Criminal Minds' played out the 2nd part of the serial-killer-in-the-blackout storyline that ended last season, with a stand-out performance given by AJ Cook as her character manages to get through to killer Billy Flynn using an All Emergency Channel broadcast. The same power was delivered by Cook in her last-ever episode as Special Agent Jennifer ‘JJ’ Jareau, the BAU’s media liaison and so much more ( shown on January 14th 2011 on UK TV ), appropriately enough titled simply ‘JJ’. I am rarely given to displays of weepiness but I admit to tearing up a little as I watched this sad, senseless farewell to a beloved character. Senseless, because suddenly fans were expected to accept that we had entered some strange, alternate universe where an FBI employee can be ordered to take a promotion by the Department of Defense, and that said employee does not have any other options to fight a forced removal from her job for no good effing reason. It was pathetic and it has angered fans no end. Sad, because the farewell scenes between the characters so closely echoed how the actors felt about the wholly unexpected firing of Cook. Spencer Reid’s lip-quiver and desolate, “ But they can’t just take you away from us” was like watching Baby left alone by Mommy, and Garcia’s desperate denial of the inevitable and her helpless sobbing as JJ left, would have cracked even the stoniest heart. It was by far not the first time Cook has shone in this role either. The Season 2 episode ‘Revelations’ still is one of the very best, mostly down to how well Cook played out JJ’s self-blame and doubt at her fitness to be in the field after Reid is kidnapped by a psychotic killer. Season 4’s ‘Cold Comfort’ is effectively humanized by JJ alone as she tells David Rossi, regarding a victim’s mother, “ All she has right now is hope. How can you take that away from her?”

Just as the fans might ask CBS, “ How can you just take JJ away from us?”

CBS has already canceled 'Cold Case' and 'Ghost Whisperer' in similarly unsatisfying circumstances, and its track record of treating female employees with shameful disregard, continues unabated. This is the same network that gives a raise to spoiled, drunken, wife-beating brat Charlie Sheen, and continues to pour money into the dire 'NCIS' spin-off, 'NCIS: Los Angeles', nothing more than a weekly testosterone-fest which, incidentally, killed off the only decent female character immediately after the pilot show. Without any explanation either, leaving that to an obviously cobbled-together episode of 'NCIS' to do later!

It seems like these days ( unless your name is Mariska Hargitay ) if you are female and on TV, you are imminently expendable. What message does that send to all those young women watching who might be seeking role models? “ If you are strong, smart, and independent, you will be treated disgracefully … but hey, if you act like a violent, chauvinistic boor or a simpering bimbo, you’ll be rewarded!”

Nice.

And no, Garcia, they don't care.

Paranormal (in)activity, the walking dead, and bleeding houses.

2010-12-05T16:08:00.001Z

Perhaps I'm just a stubborn moo, but whenever a new book or movie floats through town on a raft of hype, I deliberately avoid climbing aboard with the initial wave of eager souls and wait instead until well after the storm has died down. Disappointingly often I find that the hype was just that, the over-excited babbling of someone in the marketing department ( Witness Dan Brown's 'The DaVinci Code' ). Such has been the case with movie-of-the-moment Paranormal Activity. All I can say is, there went ninety minutes of my life that I'll never get back. Even with the best marketing in the world setting it on fire through the Internet ( that huge black-hole repository of often useless junk ) and a truly fiendish word-of-mouth campaign, surely someone other than myself must have noticed that the actual movie, well, it sucks. Why are there now two sequels? Thank God I had the far superior Zombieland to cheer me back up afterwards, otherwise there are vases in my house might have been in serious danger of being shattered against walls. Woody Harrelson was a treat in that snakeskin jacket, and Jesse Eisenberg is such an unexpected hero. Take note, Paranormal Inactivity, if you want to do something simple but striking, this is how it should be done.

So very much better also is The Walking Dead, currently approaching its finale on FXUK. Just six episodes of this zombie-plague-destroys-the-world ( well, Atlanta, GA anyway ) TV show are not enough. My world was truly made when I found out that zombies would be shambling and moaning along to join the legion of vampires and werewolves biting and howling their way across our TV screens these days, and I was hooked on the show from the moment a zombified torso started crawling towards Sheriff Rick, skeletal jaw snapping, gurgling hungrily at this man-sized Happy Meal. There is something realistic and yet comic-book about The Walking Dead that is deeply unsettling. I'm as excited as a Santa Claus-believing 5 yr-old on Christmas Eve then to learn that the show has been commissioned for a second series run of 13 episodes. Take note, Paranormal Inactivity, if you want to make something look realistic enough to make your viewers doubt the safety of their cosy world just a little, this is how it should be done!

There's a recession on, the country's being run by a clueless toff and his mannequin, it's still bloody snowing, so what else is a girl to do but treat herself to a box set of the old ITV series Hammer House of Horror. Thirteen 1-hour stand-alone episodes derived from the series of movies from the same stable which ran in several repeats during the 80's, at some point I managed to convince my mother it would be a good idea to allow me to watch them. Starting with 'The House That Bled To Death', I was suitably creeped out at the time by this episode, especially by the scene of a birthday party ruined by some burst pipes drenching the cake in something a lot worse than a little collected rainwater! Re-watching a few of the episodes now, including the abovementioned, I am still suitably creeped out, proving that sometimes an oldie is indeed a goodie, even if the decor is a little dated and Mom's flares went out with Gary Glitter. God bless the 70's & 80's when horror was King. Take note Paranormal Inactivity...

Conspiracy nut - me? You can blame my old man then ...

2010-10-16T00:17:00.000+01:00

My father was a strangely two-sided man. On the one hand he was very down-to-earth and ever practical, occasionally maddeningly logical if you were a teenager ruled by hormones and peer pressure. But on the other hand he was surprisingly open-minded to many things. I think his own experiences and his deep admiration for his own fair-minded and even-handed father had made him this way. He was also a Naval man who saw active service in Korea and Suez, and had many fascinating stories to relate, all of which I loved hearing and he loved telling, perhaps recognizing, like many a father has, that his greatest chance to be a mythological-style kingly hero lay with his doting daughter!

When he told me about the phenomenon would one day become known as 'rogue waves' I had no hesitation in believing his description. He told me of being in the Indian Ocean - on those slightly baffling things the military like to call 'manoueveres' ( no guarantee of my spelling there, it's one of my blind spots that word! ) - and suddenly seeing a "wall of water, 90 to 100 feet high, coming toward the ship out of a clear horizon". It was, he said, like watching a building rush toward you, and the most frightening thing he had ever witnessed. Yet neither he nor any of the other men on board thought it anything odd. The sea, they knew, is a force to be reckoned with and an unpredictable one at that. My dad, like most people who have spent time at sea, would say that people who don't know the sea, underestimate it all the time and that is their biggest mistake. He also told me about "glowing things, like gel filled with neon" that they would spot all around the ship and which he figured were some kind of luminous sea creatures. Of course now we know all about bio-luminescence.

Dad's descriptions and theories for these phenomena were very clear-headed and practical, hardly mystical or conspiratorial at all. And yet he was both fascinated by and very open-minded about everything from the Bermuda Triangle to UFO's. The first two non-fiction books he ever steered me in the direction of reading were Erich von Daniken's 'Chariots of the Gods' and a book all about some military planes lost in the Bermuda Triangle. He himself had read all about these things, and the Nazca lines and the 'ancient astronauts' theories, crop circles and the Pyramids at Giza being giant spacecraft-guidance machines. This was the same man who would answer your teenage " Oh but everyone is getting it!" pleas for the latest fashion accessory or gadget with the implaccable logic:

" And if everyone was getting a cold, would you want it too?"

He was not a man inclined to jumping on whatever bandwagon happened to be passing by. And yet he was open to the kinds of possibilities that others automatically reject as the ramblings of whacko's. Small wonder then that his daughter turned out to be similarly open-minded and ever-curious. When Dad left the Navy he went to work for the MOD and in doing so he had to officially sign something under the Secrets Act. For many years during the so-called Cold War, he was forbidden to visit the Iron Curtain countries, even though he was only a civilian worker. It was the government's contention that even civilian workers at MOD bases might have seen things that agents of a hostile country could use and their firm belief also that those foreign agents possessed the ways and means of extracting such subconsciously-held information from people using drugs and hypnosis. Dad never doubted that this was so. Nor did he doubt that our government had the same tools at its disposal and presumably the same willingness to use them given the opportunity.

If the government and military can make a civilian worker at an ordinary MOD base go to such lengths, then how willing would they be to cover up something as globally mind-blowing as the actual existence of UFO's? Which made this video footage from NASA all the more fascinating to me ... Wonder what Dad would have made of it? Considering it was he who recommended the movie 'Capricorn One' to me ...

My Ultimate Fantasy Monster-Slaying Army

2010-10-06T17:12:00.000+01:00

If you could pick any movie, TV, book, comic characters to make up your own monster-slaying army, which would it be?

For me, first and foremost there would have to be Ash ( 'The Evil Dead' ). The man is an original and if you want someone to wield that chainsaw with some aplomb, look no further. I'd also want James Bond because he can make a flamethrower out of a cigarette lighter and some hair product. Without a skill like that you'd be up that messy brown creek if there were snakes, wouldn't you? Yeah. And there are always snakes. And still with the flamethrowers, Ripley ( 'Alien Quadrilogy' ) is another must for me. Not only is the woman a bit handy with a flamethrower, she used a payloader to chuck a big, nasty alien queen ( no, not Elton John ) out of an airlock. Since she's become super-clone Ripley I'd bet she could do some serious damage just by chucking a basketball at those ghoulies! I'd also like to have a slayer on hand for, well, slaying. Call me crazy ( won't be the first time anyone has, nor I suspect the last ) but I'd just feel a whole lot safer if it were rogue slayer Faith Lehane on my side rather than Buffy. Besides, Faith looks better in leather and one can never have enough nice things to look at in between lopping off all those zombie heads. What the heck, I might as well have some Willow too, just in case the army trips across a mad mage ( that means an angry wizard, not Madonna in a temper tantrum ) and need some quick spell-casting, and maybe a VanHelsing too, for the old-skool slaying touch. Speaking of things that look good, I reckon my army could do worse than include Kate Austen ( 'Lost' ) again just in case we found ourselves on some mysterious time-shifting island with bug-eyed men named Ben after us, or just fancied some coconuts. Hey, it could happen ... one minute you're staking cyber-vamps, the next you get that craving for fresh coconuts ... For sheer expertise in the arena of firearms and all things that go boom, I reckon I could do worse than have ex-spy Michael Westin and his trigger-happy girlfriend Fiona Glennane ( 'Burn Notice' ) along, and just in case the monsters are joined by human skin-wearing space lizards, I'd take Ham Tyler ( 'V' the original ) and Special Agent Erica Evans ( 'V' 2010 ), the latter just because she wears a thigh-holster very well and I do have my completely shallow moments. Finally, and this may sound like an odd choice so bear with me, I'd want Dr Cal Lightman ( 'Lie To Me' ) on my side. Hey, if I suspected my best friend had been taken over by the pod people and she was trying to convince me she was still human, I'd want Lightman there to tell me, " Nah, sod it. She's lying. I can tell by her eyebrows." He can bring his colleague Dr Gillian Foster along with him too. She's kinda handy with that psychology degree when she's let loose ... besides, she's cute and I'm sure I could find some use for her, even if it was just making the coffee.

So bring on the brain-eating zombies!!!

How To Recognize That You Are In A Horror Movie

2010-10-06T16:22:00.000+01:00

There are certain elements that go into making up a horror movie. There can be variations on these themes but they must always be present in some form for it to be classified as a horror movie ...

1. Running In Heels Through The Cemetery. Graveyards are dangerous places. They are dangerous at any time of day but by night they become especially so. Hence it is NEVER a good idea to enter one. However, you are the bird-brain who appears in every horror movie and who leaves band practise / their date / the local crack-house later than expected and, despite the pea-soup fog and the eerie music playing in the background, will proceed to take an ill-advised short cut through the local cemetery ... the creepy, lonely one at the ass-end of town, right next to the dark woods, the one with all the legends surrounding it about some teenagers got chopped up by a bunch of psycho-cannibals. Naturally you will be in footwear inappropriate to trudging through cemeteries and this will lead to falling down and ricking an ankle, hence allowing the werewolf/vampire/psycho chasing you plenty of time to catch up. You are not Buffy Summers. You are not cut out for hanging around in lonely, creepy, monster-infested cemeteries. Therefore you are a goner. You will die horribly. And it's your own damn fault, you should have stuck to the beaten path.

2. The Curse Of Being The Second Banana. You are the tough, wise-cracking best friend of the leading female character, often kind of cute in that tomboyish way, and maybe even openly gay if the movie is trying really hard to be hip and inclusive. Usually you are destined to die a gruesome but heroic death in the last third of the movie, often whilst attempting to save the ass of the best friend ( which ass you have been secretly coveting for the entire movie ) or less often the ass of her entirely worthless boyfriend ( which ass you have openly been longing to hand to a demon for the entire movie ) but take heart. Your career may stall at playing this Second Banana but you will always have a loyal following amongst the lesbians. It's better than a poke in the eye with a sharpened ax.

3. The Unkillable Killer. When you see the guy in the hockey mask, the one lugging the ax /machete / chainsaw over his shoulder, there is but one thing to do: RUN AWAY. It does not matter what you inflict upon this guy, you can shoot him, stab him, set fire to him, hell, you can throw him from the top of the Empire State building, it might slow him down but it won't kill him. He'll be back. They always come back. I mean, if you could kill him, where would the sequel and the franchise be in that?

4. Just When You Thought It Was Safe ... it isn't. Please recall the above regarding unkillable killers. But you'll forget, won't you? Not five minutes after the blood has been mopped up and the last ripped-off limbs have been tidied away, you'll be right back in the water/woods/creepy summer camp, leaving yourself open to being hacked to pieces by that not-dead-at-all grinning maniac or dragged to hell by some seriously twisted tree roots. Oh well, you didn't learn. You deserve to die also.

5. Put That Chainsaw Down, You'll Have Someone's Eye Out. Seriously, it might look cool, running around waving a chainsaw and screaming like a banshee, but chainsaws are dangerous things. The unskilled should stick to shotguns, flaming torches, and anything sharp and stabby, and leave the chainsaws to the professionals. Otherwise you're just going to wind up cutting your own hands off and it's kind of hard to fight a zombie horde with no freaking hands. Trust me.

6. You've Got To Have Tits n Ass. It's a horror movie. The audience will be largely made up by horny, sticky little teenagers and a few serious weirdoes lurking up the back. Therefore there will be tit n ass. Be prepared to run naked down a beach, all your bits jiggling, and throw yourself into a body of water beneath which will be lurking something much worse than a back-row weirdo. If you possess particularly impressive jiggly bits you may get to play The Slut and will spend the first third of the movie shagging your way through the male cast ( and maybe one female cast member if it's that determinedly hip and inclusive movie you happen to be in ) only to become one of the first grisly casualties. Because if there is one thing the grinning psycho dislikes it's teenage sex. Being skewered whilst shagging Kevin Bacon might not earn you any Oscars but the teenagers and the back-row weirdoes will love it. Or anyone who's ever had a hankering to skewer Kevin Bacon.

7. Last Woman Standing. This is possibly the most coveted role in horror movies for actresses. You get to be tough and glamorous, able to spend a whole day and night plunging through woods in West Virginia ( I honestly don't know why anyone ever goes to Virginia anymore, the place is crawling with inbred psycho-cannibals according to Hollywood! ), and fight off a family of cannibals, and still come out of it with your lipstick intact. Even the torn clothing and the little smears of blood and dirt on your face will look adorably sexy on you. The downside to landing this coveted role is that you may get stuck with it for some considerable time. Horror movies are franchise favorites and you may wind up wondering why you ever tried out for that role when you're doing 'Friday The 13th Part 45'.

Horror-struck ... for all the wrong reasons

2010-09-28T15:06:00.000+01:00

Dear me, what can the matter be with horror movies these days? I have just lately viewed 4 movies all of which managed to seriously rub my unfunny bone the wrong way.

The first offender was Sorority Row which, granted, I wasn't expecting greatness from. But nothing this bad either. Rumor Willis ... you'd have thought her parents might steer her in the direction of something a little less hapless. No, wait, last good thing Demi Moore did was St Elmo's Fire and Bruce Willis ... no, I simply can't cast my mind back that far. As for Carrie Fisher getting involved in this nonsense, I can only assume that she's back on the booze and drank the next month's rent money so needed something to fill the gap.

Next up was The Final Destination ... please not the The to distinguish it as the ultimate ... well, least said about that ... I just bloody well hope it is the final one. Was this in 3-D at the cinema? Because not even screen-popping special effects could make up for a script sounded like it had been written by an 82 yr-old Mormon Republican with a mania for over-explaining everything.

Although by now I was having serious doubts I stuck with my mini-marathon of unmoving horror movies for the remake of Nightmare On Elm Street, a movie which just should not have been remade at all because it is a classic. After watching the remake against my better judgment then, I realized it was two hours of my life that I would never get back and resolved to listen to my better judgment more carefully in future. And by the way, whose seriously messed-up idea was it to take the greatest horror-movie anti-hero of all time, Mr Freddy Krueger, and make him into something resembling an inbred redneck extra left over from Deliverance? Just leave the classics alone. Please. Thank you.

Finally, since I like to finish what I start ( well, sometimes ) I arrived at the final leg of this torturous marathon. I had hoped for better things from Drag Me To Hell but it seems even at the last hurdle life was to cheat me out of a prize. Hell is exactly where both Sam Raimi and this movie should be have been dragged to, and left there for eternity, preferrably before it had a chance to upset the finer sensibilities of horror fans like myself. Raimi's much-vaunted 'truimphant return to horror' was more of a last-gasp clutch at a straw that he has allowed to wither into mulch. Alison Lohman is no Bruce Campbell and I suspect even if she had cut off both her hands with a chainsaw and got dragged from hell to breakfast by a bunch of demented vines all singing the 'Hallelujah' chorus, I wouldn't have been able to raise much more than a bored, " Oh get on with it!"

I must come to the conclusion then that there are altogether too many horror-movie remakes these days ... Friday the 13th, Halloween, The Crazies ( okay, that one did work ), Nightmare On Elm Street ... and on and on. We need less regurgitation of what we have already digested and more assailing of our senses with fresh gore. The horror-movie makers of today also are desperately in need of a humor transplant. Does anyone know where Dr Herbert West is these days?

A Nightmare On Elm Street Image & A Nightmare On Elm Street Pictures
Leave it alone. Robert Englund is Freddy. End of story.

Friday The 13th Scene Image & Friday The 13th Pictures
It's no use, sweetie. He's just gonna keep coming back. This is a franchise, don't you know?

Dreaming In Gore-O-Vision

2010-09-13T05:31:00.000+01:00

Shambling brain-eaters haunt my dreams ...

I cannot surely be the only person who often dreams in horror movies ... can I? Who by slumbering night finds herself starring in her own personally-written and directed slasher flicks? Most often it's zombies. I don't know why this should be since, as my favored sub-genres of the horror genre go, zombies rank for me pretty far below vampires, werewolves, hockey mask-wearing chainsaw-wielding maniacs, and even the odd family of cannibalistic inbreeds. So why my subconscious should be dreaming up complex plots involving these unedifying bad-mannered shambling wrecks of creatures with their disgusting penchant for snacking on the brains of the still-living, I just don't know.

Oh, I have done all the proper dream analysis ... and Drs Freud and Jung, as much as I do love your psychoanalytic scribblings, did either of you really need to get so darned persnickety with our subconscious nocturnal wanderings? Now we can't just have a bad dream ( or a good dream about a bad subject - and that does make as much sense on paper as it did in my head, right? ) without it having to be all about underlying castration fears and other florid psychoses. Thank you very much indeed.

One of my zombie-influenced dreams was in fact so spectacular that I was prompted, in spite of the shambling brain-eaters not being my thing, to write it all down and file it for fleshing out at a later date into a novel proper.

Besides the zombies, I have also dreamed of a Godzilla-like monster arriving to herald the end of the world. That one was so eerily lifelike I actually awoke 99% certain that the world really had ended, until I realized it was merely that Monday feeling I was experiencing. There was also an intriguing dream-state jaunt taken to an idyllic island for a much-needed vacation, only to have it interrupted by some inconsiderate little aliens - weird and disturbingly ferocious hybrids of lizards and Snow White's diminutive friends. I don't need Drs F & J to know that one was inspired by a timely combination of the side effects of beginning a course of Vitamin B6 tablets ( B6 causes very vivid dreams ), watching 'V', and reading about Disney's experimental Perfect Town USA ( that in itself could fill an entire horror blog post - urrgh! )

And don't even get me started on the myriad variations on the theme of an insane janitor on the loose in some creepy-ass small town and me being either his next intended victim who has to avoid him or the cop who has to hunt him down. I have nothing against janitors, at least not consciously. However, apparently my subconscious finds them very suspect indeed.

On the whole I tend to rather enjoy these horror-movie dreams. They're inspiring as well as entertaining, and okay yes, occasionally I get a sniggering kick out of waking up the entire household with my " Help! I'm having a seriously bad dream!" 5am shrieking! I just wish my subconscious would get over the whole zombie thing and instead find itself something to fret about involving the infinitely sexier vampire thing.

I might have no conscious beef with janitors but my subconscious is convinced they are all Freddy Krueger...

Strong Stomach But Still Human

2010-09-02T02:49:00.001+01:00

Growing up I enjoyed reading horror authors such as Stephen King, John Saul, and James Herbert, all of whom were deservedly renowned for paying attention to gory detail! I know I read many, many more authors in the same genre and although I can't recall their names now, I'm pretty sure that most of them probably went just as far as the abovementioned Unholy Trinity in their efforts to gross out their readership. Of course, the 80's were kind of horrific in general ... bat-wing jumpers, pineapple hairdo's, and Margaret Thatcher, does anyone really want to argue that those things were not the products of a deranged psyche? I loved horror movies too. Once upon a time, I could practically recite the script to 'The Evil Dead' by heart.
I still enjoy reading/watching horror today, in my fortieth year, with no sign of that growing-up I'm supposed to do happening yet ( thnak heaven, it's always seemed a little dreary to me, the whole 'adult' thing ), and I'm happy to say there are still many, many gorily good books and movies around to satisfy my bloodlust with! Jack Ketchum, Brian Keene, Bentley Little, and a host that I'm trying to get around to reading before my eyeballs really do explode. Stephen King ( " Bow to the Master!" ) has himself described Little as the 'poet laureate' of horror today and I have to say his work does remind me a good bit of the 80's slash-and-bleed style.
These dubious tastes of mine in blood 'n' gore-drenched reading and watching material are enabled by my having a particularly strong stomach for the kinds of imaginative violence it takes to produce blood 'n' gore by the bucketful, and by my being relatively unshockable. In fact, there is so little I have ever truly shrank from that fact in itself sometimes gives me pause. But not very often, and never for terribly long before the next hockey-masked psycho wielding a shiny ax comes along and distracts me from wondering what kind of human being I am that I'd have rather Edward just ripped Bella's mopey little head off from the get-go, drained every last drop of her blood, and discarded her limp carcass in a school canteen wastebucket for her giggling little friends to discover. That'd take their minds off their prom dresses.
But ... I am human after all, and in my lifetime of otherwise unshockable devouring of all things horrifically-flavored, there have been two things at which I have baulked. The one was reading James Herbert's 'The Rats' but frankly, once I read it again some years later I couldn't even recall what it was about it put me off so much first time. I can only surmise that I must have read it on On Of Those Days we all had as teenagers. The other was Wes Craven's original movie 'The Last House On The Left'. First time around that block I quit one-third of the way after realizing that even with judicious use of the fast-forward I was just never going to find it any less unreasonably distasteful a journey. This time it had nothing to do with a teenage bad-hair day either. For me, despite my lack of shockability and iron-clad stomach, there is nonetheless a line between enjoyable bloody, gory mayhem and the un-entertaining results of a director or writer just coming over all unnecessary, and this lady is not for crossing that line. I did give 'Last House' a second chance also ( the BBFC having lately decided to re-release it on an unsuspecting public after many years languishing in their video-nasty dungeon ) but, unlike Mr Herbert's work, the nausea-inducing impact of 'Last House' had not blunted with my ageing. I was still left scrambling for the Stop button and seething with a desire to find Mr Craven and just smack him around a little for taking what could have been a good horror movie and turning it into something even my strong stomach couldn't, well, stomach. Some people seem to like it though. Enough of them anyway for Hollywood to figure a remake would be profitable. I don't expect I'll tempt fate to test the strength of my stomach for a third time by watching it again though. I'll just get on with wading knee-deep through the enjoyable blood 'n' gore of all those other mayhem-makers still lurking in wait for me on the book and DVD shelves.

Twilight Graphics & Twilight Pictures
Oh, just rip her head off, Edward...

Oh Ancient One ...

2010-08-18T01:25:00.001+01:00

I was supposed to be doing something else but that darned squirrel is back and making a shiny, distracting pest of itself. Hence I found myself a short time ago futzing around on the 'net, reading one of those celebrity gossip sites, and therein was a little vignette about actress Eliza Dushku ( mm-mmm ) and her ex-basketball beau Rick Foxx ( who, like Jamie, apparently has some difficulty spelling his last name ) who have been an item since last October. Anyway, Ms Dushku and Mr Foxx-with-two-exes have recently moved in together. So far, so not earth-shattering. What draws the attention to this relationship is the ages of those involved. She's 29. He's 41. Age gaps like this seem to be a thing which draws a big " So what?" reaction from some people, like myself, who tend to see age as a number and not necessarily representative of who or what is the person behind the number. Others, however, that ubiquitious 'they', will screw up their little faces until those almost fall off and start proclaiming all manner of ill-informed judgment.
" It's all about the sex!" they will cry in abject disgust.
Um ... yes. That's still part of a romantic relationship, isn't it? That hasn't suddenly changed overnight, has it? No. Phew! Now, go away, Captain Obvious. And since they are both also legal, you can take your moral high horse with you.
The next most-oft cited objection to a May-December romance will concern, bizarrely, the hobbies and pastimes of those involved.
" How can they have anything in common?" they will demand in horrified puzzlement.
I could go into a whole list of things people can easily have in common that are not age-specific but it would take up a lot of precious space and would risk stating the obvious, and since we've just got rid of that guy... Some could try to argue that a decade effectively separates two people musically and culturally, but they might try bearing this in mind: there is no doubt I was on this earth when Journey first brought out 'Don't Stop Believing' but since I was more interested then in my Space Hopper than anything on the radio, it's not unsafe to say also that I have as little memory or meaning attatched to the song as do any of the 20-something 'Glee' cast reviving it now. Also, I'm pretty sure Simon Le Bon's haircut was every bit as silly as Justin Bieber's and he certainly had no less an army of silly teenage girls ( and their mothers in some cases ) swooning after him than does young Mr Bieber today. So the players in the pop-culture game may have changed but the rules generally haven't: silly haircuts on smug little boys at whose feet silly giggling girls will throw themselves. Did I miss anything out? And not every teenager/younger person goes ga-ga over pop-culture icons either. I certainly never swooned when I was a teenager ... Okay, I might have gotten a bit woozy over Sigourney Weaver, but hey, pobody's nerfect, right? Still do, and come to think of it, she's got twenty years on me ... Similarly, not everyone enters a pop-culture desert after the age of 25. We may not care much about Justin Bieber but that doesn't mean we don't know who he or his haircut are. So the cultural-divide argument can go the way of Captain Obvious and his moral high horse and take care that the door doesn't hit it in the rear end as it is leaving.
One final argument tends to involve any offspring from previous relationships of the older partner.
" Oh, he/she has a son/daughter the same age!" they will shriek in sanctimonious derision.
Unfortunately this invites Captain Obvious back into the fray but it has to be said: if the offspring are the same age, then it stands to reason they too are legal, old enough to fend for themselves, and big enough to butt out of mommy or daddy's love life. Now, away you go once more, Cap'n, and feed that horse, will you?
I wonder what those who object to May-December romances would think if vampires like Bill and Eric were real? A two thousand year-old Viking vampire and a twenty-six year-old waitress ... would anyone dare to point out to Mr Northman that he is old enough to be Sookie's great-great-great-great ... oh, fudge it! You get the point. And I don't care if Pam was born in the year 1 million BC, she looks darned fine right now and even if she doesn't know who Justin Bieber is, well, sometimes we all wish we didn't know that.

USMC Squirrel Picture & Squirrel Images
Ripley The Squirrel ...

Ah, Sookie Sookie Now...

2010-08-11T00:48:00.000+01:00

Sorry, I just couldn't resist that! But anyway, let's talk about Sookie and True Blood and all those luscious vampires and werewolves and faeries, oh my. HBO has been known for some time as the home of cutting-edge TV, but its latest denizen has become quite the pop-culture phenomenon. To such a degree that it already has its own entry in the Blackwell Philosophy and Pop Culture series ( read it, it's entertaining and it does kinda make you think in a not-too-hard way ). 'True Blood' is taken from the Southern Vampire Mysteries series of novels by Charlaine Harris and features easygoing, attractive, and telepathic waitress Sookie Stackhouse and a host of supernatural creatures who inhabit the fictional Southern town of Bon Temps alongside her. The resultant TV series is the brainchild of Alan Ball, creator of 'The Sopranos' and 'Six Feet Under', who read the books and was inspired by them to do some very good things as it turns out.

Harris's books are sweet, simply told stories of supernatural adventure, and yet in their very sweetness and simplicity hides a depth and complexity, and a shrewd commentary on life today. Many parallels are being drawn, through the TV adaptation, with what the vampire community 'coming out of the coffin' face by way of prejudice and persecution, with the same things faced for decades by the LGBT community. But these things are also addressed, if with a slightly more Southern subtlety, by Harris in her writing. That she has also created in Sookie perhaps one of the most likeable central characters ever in a series of novels, is a bonus. But Sookie's likeable quality does not make her perfect, far from it, and indeed her very human-ness just makes her even more likeable! She may be blonde and attractive, but she is down-to-earth, she tries not to be prejudice against anyone, she is considerate and accomodating but never anyone's fool, and we love her for it. She tries to be the best person she can be and when she feels that she has failed to be so, she admits her failing. She can have a pragmatic outlook when it is called for, which is just as well since her life has been turned pretty much upside down with the advent of the vampires and all the other weird and wonderful beasties into it. Of her role in the deaths of 'the vampire ho' Lorena and psychotically jealous werewolf Debbie Pelt, she muses, " It's not that I believe in killing, I don't usually, but my God, some people are just begging to put out of their misery, aren't they?" The casting in the role of Sookie of Anna Paquin - hitherto best known for her award-winning child role in 'The Piano' - was as inspired as Harris's creation of the character. Paquin manages to convey all of Sookie's written qualities and also injects a little extra that far from detracting from the character, adds a great deal. Indeed, all of the actors chosen to portray Harris's characters have seemed almost supernatural in their inspiration, bringing Eric, Bill, Pam et al to gorgeous, vibrant life on our screens.

Part of the appeal of 'True Blood' is its ability to reach crossover audiences. Harris and Ball have both described the world portrayed in Bon Temps as a 'soap opera with vampires' and it does indeed have many of the hallmarks of ( exceptionally good ) soap opera, but it is more than just well-formed soapy bubbles. It is drama, and comedy, and horror, and suspense, and fantasy, and yes, it is porn too! In Seasons 1 & 2 most of the latter might have been hetero, but Season 3 seems set to change that up a bit as the ridiculously beautiful Viking vampire Eric Northman sinks fangs and, well, other parts into the boyfriend of Russell Edgington! Who knows, perhaps we will be seeing some girlie action for his lesbian sidekick vampire Pam next?

It won't be Sookie getting it on with another gal, that's for sure, despite actress Anna Paquin's emerging from the closet as bisexual earlier this year. Sookie is straight. Very straight. In the novels, she makes this clear when lesbian vampire Queen Sophie-Anne LeClerq announces that she and Sookie should have sex since Sookie has helped her and it is the done thing ... When Sookie politely declines this offer ( Can I just say here that I would be more than willing to take that one for the team in her place? Please? ) and Sophie-Anne decides then that they should both lie and just say it did happen, Sookie points out that anyone who knows her will know that this just 'isn't her thing' and would never have happened really. She isn't comfortable with either herself or Sophie-Anne telling such an obvious lie and so agrees instead to lie that she had sex with the Queen's odious but male right-hand vampire, even though that thought makes Sookie's skin crawl worse than the thought of having sex with Sophie-Anne, which she doesn't think is an awful proposition per se, it just doesn't do anything for her. It's this straightforward honesty that we like Sookie for. Her rejection of Sophie-Anne's proposal is not based in prejudice or even disgust. Sookie knows herself what it is like to live as a someone that others often consider to be 'different' and therefore a threat of some kind, strange and creepy, and maybe dangerous to have around the kids. Her own mind-reading ability, which she no more asked for than a person does their sexuality or gender identity, has brought her prejudice, even from her own friends, such as fellow waitress Arlene and even best friend Tara Thornton. Sookie therefore tries to keep her own mind open, figuratively if not literally since that tends to mean other people's thoughts come crashing in! It is also one of the major reasons that Sookie is drawn to Vampire Bill the first time she meets him, when she realizes that she can't hear a vampire's thoughts. The silence is bliss for her.

So Eric the Viking might be happily getting it on with a guy, but what of Pam indeed? Her part in the novels is certainly greater than it has been for Seasons 1 & 2 of the TV show. In the novels, she and Sookie even become friends, or as close to friends as Pam is willing to get with a human, even one as, well, not quite human as Sookie! There is, I think, a rather wonderful, hilarious little scene in Season 1 featuring Pam and Sookie. After Bill has dispatched barman Longshadow for trying to kill Sookie, getting blood and gore all over the poor girl in the process, Sookie retreats to the ladies to clean herself up. Pam enters with some fresh clothing for her and first gives her an appreciative look, announcing that she's beginning to see what the fuss might be about. She then reaches a hand toward Sookie and says very politely, " Pardon me. You have vampire in your cleavage" and plucks the offending lump of Longshadow from between Sookie's ample bosom. Sookie just blinks, looks at Pam and then the gore, and opines mildly, " Oh. Eew." It remains to be seen whether Ball will develop any of the book's friendship between Pam and Sookie, but I have heard that he will be giving Pam some other kind of action with another gal.

Well, praise Jesus and pass the Vaseline, as the Newlins may have said!

True Blood Image & True Blood Graphics

Ah, the lovely Pam & Eric!

True Blood Avatar1 Image & True Blood Graphics

And the lovely Sookie & Bill

The Evolution of The Vampire

2010-08-05T06:07:00.001+01:00

Image by FlamingText.com

Vampires are sexy. Vampires are cool. This we know. Ever since that dullard Adam's independantly-minded first wife Lillith started giving upright ( and uptight ) folks the horrors and became the inspiration for the demonic succubi - usually female vampire creatures who visited their victims in the night and 'suffocated' them whilst bringing them erotic nightmares - the concept of the vampire has been evolving. From the evil, sexually-insatiable female demon it morphed into the suave and sexually irresistable Count Dracula, with his bad Bela Lugosi accent, his penchant for frightening the horses, and that faintly ridiculous cape. There it remained for many years until one day along came a schoolgirl named Buffy Summers who moved into a small Californian town that just happened to be located right over the local Hellmouth. Buffy embraced her destiny as the Slayer and the whole book of vampires got itself rewritten by the new King Of The Universe, a fanboy named Joss Whedon ... Where would vampires go from here? Straight to Bon Temps, Louisiana, would be the answer. Eric, Bill et al have once again taken the rule book, shredded it, and proceeded with writing a whole new one. Vampires now wear Armani suits and pumps to die for and they have nerdily cool names like Eric and Bill and Pam. It also must be credited that all of these mainstream novels and TV shows have featured gay/lesbian characters and those which haven't already, plan to. But none have revolved around gay/lesbian vampires.

Similarly, all this bloodsucking has given rise ( pun fully intended ) to a host of mainly web-based bodice-ripping, heavy-breathing erotic fiction that often features vampires. It seems readers can't get enough of the allure of the Undead. Sex and fangs sells. And it does so with a hearty gay/lesbian element. However - and whilst I would never in any way want to be thought as denigrating this writing because so much of it is really so very good - it has to be noted that, from the lesbian point of view, much of it is penned by hetero- or bisexual women and this means it tends to involve male-female sex somewhere along the way. This is something that can be a turn-off to lesbian readers, again understandably, and it is to this fact which I address myself when I ask:

" Where are all the lesbian vampires?"

My consternation is concentrated upon the fact that the 'purely' lesbian fiction market has been so backward at coming forward into this lucrative and popular genre. It is, after all, awash in both romance and detective thriller fiction, and it has proven that it can make an entire TV series out of the lives of a group of lesbians. So why not horror/vampires? Elsewhere in my web-wonderings I have posed the question of what it may be puts both lesbian readers and writers off tackling this particular genre, so I won't repeat that. Take a look in LesbianMySpace if you want to see one of the versions of this wondering. Otherwise, let us concentrate here upon my proposed antitode to the lack of lesbian vampires.

I have been writing for a long time, longer than I either care to recall or go into. During that time I've always had a penchant for vampires and werewolves and ghosties, oh my, both personally and from a writing point of view. My first published full-length novel is then, unsurprisingly, a genre fiction, 'The Lesbian Vampire Chronicles Book 1 : The Children of Judas'. Published in August 2010 by YourPOD UK it chronicles, through narrator Dante Sonnier, a Hollywood agent and thirty-something modern lesbian, her involvement with the LA-based vampire community and their struggle against the Children of Judas, an outcast vampire sect led by a charismatic and deadly vampire with the unlikely name of Robin. Robin is bent on toppling the vampire leadership and outing the entire race. She also has a few startling secrets to reveal to Dante ... Dante's life amongst the vampires is further complicated by her being torn between her growing love for gentle vampire Ellis Kovacs and her irresistable attraction to movie-starlet gorgeous but unscrupulous leader Voshki Kevorkian. Voshki has made it clear also that she wishes Dante to be her human and will attempt to seduce her away from Ellis at all costs! As the title suggests, this is the first in a planned series featuring these, and other, colorful characters and revolving around the human-vampire interaction. As the series progresses, so will the feud between the vampires heat up and even threaten Dante's own very humanity. Part-comedy, part-horror, part-love story, 'The Lesbian Vampire Chronicles' is written specifically for a lesbian audience. Of course, anyone else who would wish to read it is more than welcome to do so! I've never ascribed to the dogma that says straight people can't create or appreciate gay/lesbian characters any more than I have ascribed to the one says gay/lesbian people can't create or appreciate straight characters. For heaven's sake, we wouldn't have any TV worth watching if that were the case!

For now, let me just say that I reckon it is high time for the real lesbian vampires to come out of the coffin and stake their claim ( groan! ) to their place in the genre.

True Blood Collage Image & True Blood Graphics