Encounters on the Road with Art

From an antique mall in Wichita:
I don't know what he's staring at but I'm glad it's not me. Next, a treasure from the same Michigan City IN antique mall where last year I failed to buy the sad clown painting:

It's a painting of John-John Kennedy, bravely saluting his Daddy's coffin as it rolls by! If you click to enlarge you'll see that the artist has affixed a copyright to the picture, which is funny since she copied it straight off of a copyrighted photo. Intellectual property lawyers, I can feel you salivating out there!

And speaking of JFK, here's a velvet rendering of the unholy chimera he spawned with Ronald Reagan, from Terre Haute IN:
And back to Michigan City, where the same stall (I think) that had the sad clown now features this charming landscape:
Just and ordinary picture of a sylvan view? Not so fast! A closer look reveals that this rocky place is haunted by transparent phantoms!
Amazingly, I didn't bring any of these home.

Noir@theBar: the anthology!

Here's the cover, by Matt Kindt, for the Noir at the Bar anthology, available exclusively through Subterranean Books: http://store.subbooks.com/product/noir-bar

And here's the trailer I cut for it: Play it full screen and turn it up REAL LOUD!

Book Trailer

Here's the trailer for "The Adjustment," now available at your local booksellers. Take this and repost it everywhere you can!

Unfortunately BlogSpot won't let me post a video of this size directly onto the page, and when I try to embed the link it comes up blank, so you'll have to cut the link and paste it into your browser window (any of you BlogSpot users have suggestions for a fix?)

Be sure and watch full screen!

Baseball Card

My favorite baseball artifact of all time, except for the Honus Wagner card I used to make my bike spokes make that keen sprockety sound. This is for all those people who take me to task, insisting that Americans of a bygone era did not use the kind of foul language I routinely put in their filthy, filthy old mouths. Click to enlarge, and savor its lack of couth. [UNMAILABLE. Must be forwarded by Express.]

Filthy, Filthy eBooks for your Perverted Pleasure

It's been five months since I last bothered you, but I have important news: Two (2!)new e-books from Concord ePress, the electronic division of the Concord Free Press. The proceeds from these e-books go to support the Free Press's charitable mission in addition to helping pay my mortgage. The first, "Rum, Sodomy and False Eyelashes," is a collection of stories, including one previously unpublished and several that are hard to find elsewhere, and the second is "Rut," my dystopian novel published last year by Concord's Free Press division as a charitable giveaway. Only now you get a swell introduction by the very generous Gregory Maguire--author of "The Next Queen of Heaven" as well as a small cultural phenomenon you may have heard of entitled "Wicked." And there are other books in this début group, including one from Stona Fitch ("Senseless") and one by Matthew McBride ("Frank Sinatra in a Blender"--how can you resist that title?) Buy 'em all!

(And here are those links I failed to post yesterday when this first went up, you'll have to cut and paste them into your browser because for some reason this damned page won't let me post them as clickable links:

http://www.concordepress.com/rum sodomy and false eyelashes/

http://www.concordepress.com/rut/

FLAREGUN!

Oh, yeah, baby, it's FLAREGUN time!

Finally, the Weirdest Gift I Ever Received

Sorry for all the delays. I'd like to claim that I was busy but the fact is I've been too freaked out by the sinister vibes emitted by this anniversary gift from my wife to have much enthusiasm for taking the thing out of its box:



She told me I'd be creeped out by it. "I doubt it," I said. When I started unwrapping it, my first guess was that it was a piece of antique stereoscopic equipment. Then I thought: Welding goggles?



But no, the lens covers were perfectly opaque--metal painted black--and in any case the turrets held no glass. I was baffled, at least until my wife bade me read the card that came with it:



So that explains the sweat stains in the leather. How many men died wearing these, I wonder?