You asked, and the universe provided: it’s finally Friday! Let’s take a look back on what’s happened in the world of the bizarre, the unusual, the horrific this week:
- The Horrors of It All brought us two comic books: Haunted Love #1 and Haunted Horror #21.
- Nev Murray made an open call for confessors at his invaluable Confessions of a Reviewer!!: “If you are an author and would like to take part in [Confessions of My Past, Present, and Future], then please see the guidelines for it below and email me at firstname.lastname@example.org to let me know. Also, for the first time ever, I am throwing the floor open to ANY of you who would like to take part. Yup, that’s right, you don’t have to be a published author to send a submission in for this. If you love books and reading and always have and always will, I want to hear from you.”
- In Tablet, we learned a bit about demonology in the Talmud: “And how did Solomon get his hands on the shamir? We learn from the Gemara that he did so by kidnapping Ashmedai: Solomon tricked the demon into drinking wine, and when he got drunk the king subdued him with a magic chain that bore the name of God.”
- The pressbook for the 1935 film The Roaring West fell out of Zombos’ Closet.
- Ruined Head reviewed the 1969 novel Satan’s Coast: “A tepid thriller, Satan’s Coast distinguishes itself from other genre entries through its heroine’s self-awareness of conventions [or maybe she’s just a good detective rather than an avid reader of romance paperbacks]. After witnessing a few mysterious lights and a boat offshore, Nell immediately deduces what, in other Gothic romances, is often revealed in the denouement as the source of mysterious doings in similar old castle locations—namely, a smuggling operation.”
- At his incisively interesting R’lyeh Tribune, Sean Eaton brought his excellent series on the theme of basements in Lovecraftian-era horror to a close with an analysis of the subway as an urban basement: “But the revelation that “cannibalistic humanoid underground dwellers” are active beneath the streets of New York—reported in the first few paragraphs of the story—is not the primary horror in Far Below. The ghouls were evidently present even before the arrival of white men on Manhattan, and their history is intermingled with that of the great city, with disturbing incidents sprinkled throughout legend and folklore—“Even some of Washington Irving’s writings have a nasty twist to them, if you once realize it!””
- A haunted Bible was recently put on eBay: “An antique Bible that is believed to be possessed by spirits that pulled a woman down the stairs has been put up for sale on eBay. The Bible has been listed on the auction site by a man, named only as Fred, who keeps it in an empty room in a church because he is so fearful of the bad luck the book might bring in to his home.”
- LastBoneStands reviewed the 2014 Bigfoot movie Stomping Ground at The Slaughtered Bird: “The story relies on the tension that builds up between the characters. Ben is a fish out of water, his only lifeline being Annie. He doesn’t know the area or the people, and certainly knows nothing of hiking and camping in the backwoods of North Carolina. Ben is also a skeptic where Bigfoot is concerned, often mocking the others for their belief, and at times becoming frustrated that he seems to be the only one that doesn’t think the creature exists.”
- Scott at AnythingHorror gave us a list of his favorite witch-themed horror films.
- Cool Ass Cinema brought us Japan’s answer to Moby Dick: “Daiei Studios had enjoyed international recognition in the 1950s with award-winning pictures such as Kurosawa’s RASHOMON (1950), but it was the company’s 1960s output that is easily their most popular. Wedged in between Art House films, tense samurai epics and entertaining monster movies are a few pictures that combined all three of those styles; WHALE GOD is one such production.”
- Here, I interviewed author and youth pastor Valicity Garris, and described the experience of being kicked off the staff of Ginger Nuts of Horror for expressing, in my own space, opinions that millions and millions and millions of other people share.*
* It turns out that Jim Mcleod intends to use his gigantic influence in the world of speculative fiction to somehow poison the publishing well for me in revenge for, um, me telling the truth. As he’s no gatekeeper for anything except his own bailiwick, it’s a telling, if rather sad goal, and I welcome the effort.
One thing that Jim Mcleod and his toadying SJW fans at Ginger Nuts of Horror need to realize is that I consider their scorn to be a badge of honor. They can clutch their pearls and squeal in disgust at what I say all day long, but that only strengthens me. Who wants to be admired by unethical, virtue-signaling bullies? If they believe something, all I have to do is take the opposite position and I know I’m on the right side. I stand behind everything I’ve written here.
I know I’m supposed to just drop it, that I should shut up and go away. Accusations of me whining are rich coming from the cowards who snipe and name-call from the safety of a keyboard; not one of them would have the courage to call me a Nazi to my face. And they know it. They’re scared, a charge proven by the pusillanimous way they’ve come after me. I’ve got a thousand better things to do with my time than deal with this petty drama, but how can I tell my son that he’ll have to stand up to bullies if I don’t do it myself?
There’s a psychological game women play called “Let’s you and him fight.” In it, a woman maneuvers two potential suitors into fighting over her. Sometimes she picks the winner to sleep with, sometimes she just gets a sexual charge out of watching two men go at it. Personally, I’d be embarrassed to be the woman in this game, but I know of one lurking, fragile drama queen who can’t wait to go running to his buddies after he reads my material so he can go, “See what he said? See? Go after him, guys!”
It’s pretty damned pathetic, isn’t it? To get your rocks off like that. To peek through a keyhole, get vexed, and then whip up a little outrage club.
You go, girl. Go tell them what I said.