Guest Blog by David Hunt: Insert Title Here

This week's guest blogger is David Hunt. I've known Dave since he had the unfortunate fate of being stuck as my roommate for a session of summer school during college. Some of you may remember that Dave had a previous mention on the CS last fall after winning a fight with a brain tumor. I'm still trying very, very hard to get him to reconsider moving forward with the zipper pull tattoo for his scar but so far to no avail. Mr. Hunt also serves as the unofficial beat cop for the Grammar Police, patrolling the CS as diligently as possible and citing yours truly when I develop a case of fumble finger on the keyboard. One of Dave's trademarks has always been that he possesses one of the driest wits known to man and that is one of the reasons I invited him to guest blog. I hope you enjoy what he's written, and if you all will show a little love, I'm quite sure we might even be able to get him to give it a go on some of the other titles he's hinting at as well. Without further gilding of the lilly, ladies and gentlemen, David Hunt.

So a few weeks ago an old friend asked if I might write a guest blog post. I was reluctant to write something not because I don't have a lot to say (who doesn't) but because I didn't want to disgrace my friend or his blog with my mindless ramblings (keep reading, you'll see). Well, the fear of humiliation or disgrace has never stopped me before so here we go.

First a little about me. Unlike most of the other guest bloggers, I am a professional writer. That's right. I get paid to sit and click clack on a keyboard all day. Perhaps you are familiar with some of my work. Auto Item Deletion? 8 Day Past Due Report? Shopfloor Punishment Report? No? Well, that's probably because I'm merely a computer programmer and I write code. Ha! Got ya! Okay, maybe I didn't. Well, enough about me. I'm boring to talk about. All you really need to know is that I'm pretty awesome. Trust me.

Enough stalling. So what to write about? I've considered many topics. Here are the potential titles of a few: How to break the news to friends and family that you have a tumor. What's it like to think you're about to die. 101 funny things to say about brain surgery after you've survived. Growing up Wookie. What not to say aloud in Church. 

Okay, so any of those might be more fun than what I'm about to write. Too bad, it's my laptop and I'm the one typing. But I digress...

I think I want to talk about friendship and simply being a good person. As I mentioned before, this blog's author is an old friend. When he asks for a favor (and I can comply), then I answer the call. I don't want you to misunderstand, we haven't seen each other in, what, a decade? It's not like we're blood brothers or bonded by some life changing experience. Well, there was that time in college when we shared that hooker... Okay, I'm kidding, I just held the camera. No, I'm kidding, she held the camera. 

At this point I think it might be important to point out that I'm a bit off the old rocker (no, not Steven Tyler). I'm the person who takes a bad idea (like deep fried twinkies) and makes it worse (like dipping it in fondu) and then makes it REALLY worse (like quick freezing it so you can eat it like a popsicle...who wouldn't like a deep fried twinkie-du sicle?). But I digest...

I chose friendship because of the implied nonsupport BP has gotten for his new novella. Personally, I plan on ordering several copies. Why? Because he's my friend. I want him to succeed. Now, if this book turns out to NOT be to my liking, then I plan to pass my copies along. Now I know all about constructive criticism and that's not what I'm talking about here. The point is friends show support. If you are one of those who have been less than supportive, then maybe you aren't really a friend. Well, that's cool too (to my mind). Please do not pretend to be something you are not. "Hi friend. What's that knife for?" 

Perhaps this came about because I watched "Wyatt Earp" this morning (thanks for the quotes IMDB!): 

Frank Mclaury: You're first on my list Holiday. Spend the rest of your time expecting to see me.

Doc Holiday: Mclaury, seeing you would be a nice change. I understand most of your enemies got it in the back

Obviously, I kinda see myself in the Doc Holiday role here as I am the friend showing support (but NOT dying of tuberculosis). Now, here's a piece of advice from old "Doc" (me, not Holiday): if someone is NOT your friend, then, unless you value their opinion, blow them off. 

Maybe Doc Holiday DID say it best: "All of you can kiss my rebel dick."

Well kids, this has been a rambling mess and if my old friend has any sense, he'll edit the hell out of this or simply delete it. Seriously, delete it.

Wyatt Earp: Not everyone who knows you hates you, Doc.

Doc Holliday: I know it's not always easy being my friend, but I'll be there when you need me.

The Faith of a Mustard Seed

     One of the very first posts I wrote for The Cynical Sarcastic was entitled "Faith and Religion."  For a very long while it remained the most viewed post on the blog and still ranks right up there in the top five most viewed.  For those of you who read that post last fall, I hope you won't see this as a rehashing of past ideas.  I try very hard not to recycle content.  As a side note I am also going to keep this post fairly civil in tone.  Believe it or not I'm not intending to tread on anyone with what I have to say on this matter.  Nothing I'm saying here today is intended to put anyone on the defensive, although if it makes you feel that way I would delicately offer that maybe you need a moment of introspection to figure out why.

     I've made several comments in the past in reference to tolerance for a wide range of religious views.  I personally happen to believe that a person with faith in anything is preferable to and a lot less unpredictable than someone who believes in nothing.  I also find it necessary to surround myself with a wide range of people whose beliefs are not my own.  I've found over the years that coming to understand their views in matters of faith and religion allow me come to a deeper understanding of my own.  Not only have I found value in that sharing of, for lack of a better term, 'religous culture' on an intellectual front but I have in all honesty found it necessary to adjust my own beliefs in some areas as well.

     The next comment is a statement of fact and, although some will find it inflammatory, it is not meant to be so.  Although I consider myself Christian in basic faith, I do not agree with nor hold true to the entire tenancy of Christian dogma.  I find portions of it to be unnecessary and in some cases no longer applicable.  There are those who feel that to label yourself as a member of any faith you must abide by all tenets of said faith and believe wholeheartedly in the entirity thereof.  Our views diverge on this point and all I ask is that you remember that your opinion is your right as is mine.  If I had to put an even moderately accurate label on my personal beliefs I would have to say that I am a Christian with inclusions of Taoist and Pagan principles.  Once you're able to work out that particular version of the faith in your head, get back with me.  It's an inclusion of my personal beliefs and even I get conflicted on occasion, truth be told.  Hey, you try blending the Crucifixion, meditation, and a Blood Eagle into the same ceremony and let me know how it works for you.

     I've front-loaded you with all of this information because I have a complaint that was derived from the Sunday morning service today at my local church.  I'm going to be careful with my phrasing here because I in no way wish to detract from anyone's opinion or belie my own opinion of the pastor in question.  My complaint is this: why is it that religious leaders feel the need to decry other faiths as false and/or cast dispersions on the tenets that said faiths are built upon from the pulpit? 

     Although it will most likely shock a large number of you, I have actually read the Bible cover to cover a number of times in my life.  Even the parts with the red words.  I'm familiar with everything from Adam and Steve (just kidding) to the 'begats' through the lesser and greater kings of Israel to the New Testament and the crucifixion and the new covenant (both with and without the Mel Gibson filter) to the really fun parts of Revelation that Tim Lehay didn't get wrong.  I know that one of the commandments was to have no other gods before God.  I get that.  I understand that this point is where a lot of church leaders rest their decision to decry other faiths.

     Fully aware that I'm treading in even deeper water by the nanosecond, allow me a little indulgence here and play devil's advocate with me for some blasphemy points.  If you look back in history and examine the horrific splintering of faith going on in the camps of the flock under Moses' command at the time of the Commandments, wouldn't it make sense that some form of unification would logically be called for?  If you're trying to keep a people together, wouldn't one religion make the whole process a lot more manageable from a leadership standpoint, particularly on an extended mass desert walkabout?  Allow me to really insult the more devout out there with one simple thought:  consider the Ten Commandments not as a religious mandate but as a personnel manual.  Interesting thought, isn't it?

     This gets into the area where my logical brain and the notion of illogical faith clash, to be frankly honest.  Pragmatically speaking there is a clear logical need for religion in the control of society dating back to prehistory.  If the fear of punishment or death can't keep the good people toeing the line, the fear of eternal damnation usually does the trick.  Ask the Roman Catholic Church prior to the Protestant Reformation and its whole herd of Pardoners.  If the church is too limiting or clashes too harshly with the wants and needs of the powerful, to heck with them, let's do it our own way.  Thank you Henry VIII, The Anglican Church, and Anne Bolyn's significantly-shorter-by-a-head corpse.  Oh look, women are beginning to think for themselves and that might become a difficulty for the good ol' men folk.  Enter the Malleus Maleficarum / Hexenhammer / Witches Hammer and the good people of the Spanish Inquisition to show you the best ways to implement it with abandon.  My point is simply that faith, even the Christian faith, has molded around the times it existed in so that it was relevant to the people and could continue to control them in that relevancy.  If it didn't, would Constantine's Edict of Milan in 313 AD, which granted religious tolerance to Christians, let alone his deathbed conversion to the faith to unify the Empire as a Christian nation, have been even remotely necessary?  Can anyone seriously tell me with a straight face that Constantine found out he was dying and thought "you know the orgies to Minerva are getting boring in my advancing illness.  Let's see what this Christ dude everyone is impaling each other over is talking about."  Seriously?

     The Christian church adapts itself to times, its a fact.  Imagine if you will St. Paul, upon whom the orthodox church was "built," reading his own writings on an i-Pad.  Well, at least you can get an app for Aramaic.  I guess that's something anyway. So why then does the church seem to lash out repeatedly through history at other faiths?  No, I'm not referring to times when politics and religion took a less than holy tumble through the sheets and bastardized a Crusade or twenty-three.  What I'm referring to are the times the church has gone after another faith simply because it can.  My favorite is the imposition of the Christian faith on the peoples of Scandanavia.  Why does this supposed horrorific slaughter of missionaries over nearly one-hundred years rank as my favorite one of these travesties?  It's simple, actually.  The pagan faiths (yes there were several in play at the time) that dominated that area of land all shared similar views regarding the faith of others.  Unless you were prepared to kill a man over the dispute it was considered horrifically uncivilized (yes, even for the 'Vikings') to insult another's God.  The fact that the Christian's were so violently expelled over and over again should tell you that they may not have been going about it the right way to begin with.  Without further devolving this into a history lesson, it seems to me that the faiths the church tends to pick on are the one's it couldn't find a way to slaughter or cajole out of existence.

     What does that mean for those of us in the modern world who don't hold wholly Christian faiths?  It means we get to sit through yet another sermon where the pastor slanders part of our beliefs because he finds them silly.  Do I still respect the man?  Yes, even though the whole things does make me want to hit him in the head with a copy of The Davinci Code.  Do I wish he, as a slightly less than elegant but still highly poetic pagan friend of mine posted on Facebook yesterday morning, would open a book and read something before making an ass of himself?  Yes, even if I was the only one in the congregation to ever notice the difference.

     When I think back over some of those aforementioned red words in the Bible, I'm reminded of a comment that Jesus made regarding having the faith of a mustard seed and being able to move mountains while he was exorcising a demon from a young boy (Matthew 17:20 for those playing along at home).  Not to be trite and with all contextual implications ignored, I just have one little nagging question: did he actually specify which faith?      

Angry, Ranting Tirade #472

     Ladies and gentlemen, I'd love to be able to say that at this precise moment I am at a loss for words.  Unfortunately, when you take into consideration what I do for a "living," it should come as no surprise that I am anything but at a loss for words at this particular moment.  In fact, I've got a great big ol' pile of those bastards just layin' here, sharp and ready to get thrown at someone's jugular.

     I have to admit that I've been quietly stewing on several things / issues for nearly a week now.  An incident occurred last weekend in which I was exposed to a person who falls into one of these categories and they irritated me fairly significantly.  However, I've been trying to stick to my statement about not vehemently spewing rage on my blog as often as I had in the past.  Emphasis on TRYING. As the week has progressed I have not only still had to deal with this person but more of their knuckle dragging, partially informed ilk have popped out of the woodwork to join them and collectively they have been hopping up and down on my last stump of a nerve and I am now officially done with being nice about it.

     Let's make this whole issue simple kids: if you have no clue what you're talking about, or moreso if the discussed issue has nothing to do with you AND you have no clue, THEN POLITELY SHUT THE BLEEDING FUCK UP AND SIT THERE UNTIL SOMEONE POKES YOU WITH A STICK!

     First of all, let's make sure we're clear here from the outset.  Everyone is entitled to an opinion.  That's a given.  Opinions are very definitely like assholes: everyone's got one and some get used more than others.  I'll never get after anyone who presents opinions even remotely appropriately.  I'm one of the first people to bitch and moan when folks don't say what needs to be said.  Is your grandmother mean and evil in some bizarre Machiavellian way?  Fuck it, call her a bitch if it's truly warranted, be done with it, and get on with the day.

     My issue comes up when someone who, in parlance, doesn't have a dog in the race decides that the world can't live without their two-and-a-half-fucking-cents worth.  Am a being hypocritical?  Maybe a tiny bit because I do tend to ramble on a lot about things that I have no real control over or effect on, however the nature of my job is to comment on the things around me so I have to give myself the smallest of passes here.

     Allow me to voice a few of my complaints from the past week.  Hopefully they'll illustrate what has me so blessedly hacked off at the moment.  Most of them are on topic but a few just have me really riled up at the moment.  Indulge me if you will.

     1) If you have never written a book of any kind, you are unqualified to comment on a writer's process, style of writing, or creativity beyond a nearly-binary Like It or Don't Like It.  Just because your spouse is employed in the literary field doesn't mean you have the smallest fucking clue what you're talking about.  You see, writers expect bad reviews.  Some of us even revel in them.  What we can't stand is a talking head yammering on when it's obvious that the last thing they actually read was the back of the package of Soft Batch they just inhaled along with a quart of ice cream.  Quit bleating about concepts and buzzwords you don't truly understand in a vain attempt to sound like your life partner, you stupid fat fuck.  Allow me to reassure your simple ass that the capacity for intelligent thought IS NOT SEXUALLY TRANSMITTED. 

     2) Disagreeing with someone is a wonderful thing.  Telling someone they're wrong because what they've done is a 'sin' is your perogative, HOWEVER, only if that person shares your religious views.  If they don't, please just do like your mother and grandmother do when you walk around the house wearing a gym sock on your junk: 'tsk' in disapproval, shut the hell up, and go on somewhere.  We're all going roughly the same place when we day.  So what if what they believe is wrong?  We'll all find out when we get there, rest assured.  For your sake though Skippy I'm really hoping we're right on the Jesus thing and you don't get to spend eternity walking behind someone else's World Turtle carrying the pooper scooper.

     3) If you are the parent of a gay child please listen closely: THERE IS NO CURE BECAUSE YOUR CHILD IS NOT SICK.  Your child is gay you homophobic wank tard and there is nothing you can do to change that.  I am so sick of hearing this haughty ignorant shit. You may be able to repress them now but eventually somebody is gonna pick a family dinner, usually on a high holiday, to find the perfect time to come FLAMINGLY out of the closet and gush their excitement all over their extended family!  Bank on it.  I'm going to break this down for you one time and one time only: love you kid for who they are and shut up about it for chrissakes!  If your kid is LGBTU or whatever else you wanna throw in there, GREAT!  Be happy you have a healthy kid.  If you can't handle their sexual orientation it is YOUR problem, not theirs!  Get help before you say something one bridge too far and lose your child forever.  If your child is bisexual then be happy that there are that many more chances that they will find their true love and soul mate to spend their life with.  I actually heard a parent call a bisexual child 'greedy' this week and I swear I nearly hit him in the mouth for being a ignorant turd.

     4) Folks, and I mean this with all sincerity, some of you have absolutely got to stop expecting people to be the same person they were five / ten / twenty years ago.  Just because you haven't changed doesn't mean they are stagnant as well.  Public places are not the forum to start rehashing your greatest hits gag reel with this person when you haven't seen them in longer than it takes a fifth grader to gestate!  Women, if you have a male friend from high school that you haven't seen in a very long time and he used to cheat on everyone he dated twenty hears ago, there is a more than slight chance he got his act together.  Just because he was a ho in high school or college doesn't mean he wants to cheat on his wife, let alone cheat with your skanky ass.  And while we're on the subject, and also to narrow the beam a little here to clue in Princess Clueless from back in the day, just because you had a wild three way back in college with someone doesn't mean that you can attempt to invite yourself to bed with him and his wife.  IF HE WANTED YOU THERE HE WOULD HAVE MARRIED YOU INSTEAD YOU SIMPLE BITCH. 

     5)  There seem to lately be an overabundance of people in my general vicinity who have decided to step out on their husband/wife/boyfriend/girlfriend/symbiotic protein whatever.  Folks, I'm going to speak very plainly here.  I DON'T FUCKING CARE WHAT YOU DO WITH YOUR NAUGHTY BITS NOR DO I NEED THE DRAMA IT CAUSES.  I'm the last person to ever have the balls to lecture anyone on morality.  I've been through 95% of the Kama Sutra at least twice and half of it was with your wife (just kidding, jesus take a joke dude!).  Seriously, and I actually mean this, I don't care who you fuck.  If you're happily married and can pull of three simultaneous affairs then go for it.  What I am so sick and fucking tired of is the juvenile you-sound-like-you're-still-fifteen drama and whining it all has started to entail.  Knock off the drama, pick one or two of your herd of crotch cookies to be happy with, stop being a douche and get back to being the semi-normal scruffy little nerf herder I'm not ashamed to call friend.  Save the drama for the tweens jerking off over the CW.  Please note this is not aimed at one person.  A bunch of yall need to get your little na- na monkey under control with a quickness!
     6)  I do not have a kid.  I can make jokes about kids, but I only have second hand info at best.  I do not have YOUR kid.  If I comment on your parenting style and decisions, privately or publicly, I am only proving myself a moron with no clue of what I speak.  See how simple that was?  Good because I AM SICK AND FUCKING TIRED OF LISTENING TO SOME OF YOU GODDAMN PETTY-ASS TOENAIL CHEWERS RAG ON EACH OTHER'S ABILITY TO RAISE A KID!  It's not your business so butt the hell out.  Nobody ragged on your twitchy ass momma, now did they? 
     7)  "I'm so embarassed for you."  I heard this little nugget two times this week.  The first was in reference to my book being fairly riddled with profanity.  The second was in reference to a friend's vehicle and the stories it invokes.  To both responsible parties I politely offer the one time only deal of a lifetime opportunity to go hang yourself and choke of the front six inches of my cock.  Embarrassment is only derived if you are made uncomfortable by your actions.  You've been reading this post.  Does it seem to you that the fact that I use the word FUCK 73 times in a 120 page book bothers me?  No, you're embarassed "for me" because you didn't have the balls to do it yourself.  Similar in response to the crap about my friend's truck.  That person is just angry they don't have those kind of good stories in their life.  Bubba(ette), I hate to be the one to have to tell you this but sitting at home every Saturday night and talking to the cat who is only waiting to eat your face when you die is not going to get you any good stories.  It's only gonna get your dead face eaten by a cat.
     8)  I would like to make a public service announcement to all those people out there with excuses about why their life is in the condition it is currently:  YOU LET IT GET THIS WAY AND ONLY YOU CAN FIX IT!  Please for the love of whatever deity helps you get through the really bad thunderstorms stop waiting on someone to give you a handout and go handle your shit you deadbeat fuck.  Do whatever you need to do but stop wasting oxygen and looking for life lessons on The View.  You will never succeed at anything unless you try.  If you're not going to try then would you please go ahead and die so some third world kid can get your share of the rice ration and grow up to be useful.  Thanks for your time.
     9)  This last little item is going to sound really harsh but I actually mean it with love and respect.  Right now I know more than five and less than ten women who are literally waiting on a man to save them / fix them / make it all better, be he husband, boyfriend, or dream man of the future.  Sweetheart, I really do mean this with love because I want all of you as my friends to be happy and live awesome lives, you need to stop waiting on him and fix it yourself.  There's a simple reason why.  The universe doesn't present you with the kind of person you want as a partner until you're ready for them and worthy of them - period. You are better, and I mean all of you, than what you're allowing yourself to live with and I emplore to stop letting the awesome person who is my friend live in hell.  I am not friends with people who amount to nothing or are losers or wastes of time.  I don't have time for it.  If I still have time for you as my friend than if for nothing else than that little teeny thing you have worth and the bullshit needs to stop.
     Okay, I'm better for at least now.  I would apologize for being harsh but sometimes kids you just have to say it like you feel. Have a great weekend and I'll talk to you on the other side of a large quantity of alcohol and a few days sleep.

Hot Girls With Machetes Don't Need Lingerie

Well boys and girls, now that Bounce is finally put to bed it’s time for your buddy the CS to get back to doing what he does best: running off at the mouth with no real clue where it’s all going to lead! I PROMISE YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY SOUL THIS POST IS IN NO WAY WORK APPROPRIATE.

 So let’s start things off with one of everyone’s favorite topics: HOT WOMEN!

(For all of you learning how to write out there, that’s called cheap pandering to your audience for attention. Learn it well young padawan.)

I’d like to take a few minutes today to discuss what it is about an attractive woman holding a weapon that seems to be so highly boner inducing to the more red blooded members of our herd. Ladies, I am not being discriminatory here in the least. I know there are a large number of you out there that have been known to generate a couple of millimeters of girl wood over an Angelina Jolie-dispensed ass whoopin, so you’re allowed to play today as well. For the rest of you gun hating, limp wristed, prettier than every woman you’ve ever dated wussburgers out there who are still trying to sell everyone else on the whole “guns kill people’ line and were late to work yesterday because you stopped off to piss on Chuck Heston’s grave, the dick you forgot to eat this morning before you left the house is still sitting on the kitchen table. I’d get back to it quickly before that shit hits rooms temperature.

That’s right kiddies, today we’re gonna talk about just exactly what it is that makes these women so freaking attractive. Where did the idea for this post come from, you may ask? Did monkey boy look up from his keyboard too long one night and get caught up with something playing on Netflix in the background that put his mind so far in the gutter that he gave himself an involuntary chin rest? Nope, well, sorta nope anyway although Netflix did have something to do with it. I was browsing thru the new release queue the other day and I couldn’t help but notice how many just bad action movies there were showing up that had scantily clad women on the cover holding some enormous gun or blade of some description. This got my little mind wondering and wandering as it is prone to do so often late at night when I’m trying to get some work done. This brought today’s question to mind: why are we so fascinated with these images that they exist in such proliferation?

Let’s break the whole stereotype apart for a second. Attractive female person with somewhat cartoonish features – check. If you don’t understand that particular part of the equation, I sincerely apologize for wasting both you and your boyfriend’s time and hope you enjoy your antiquing trip to New England this weekend. Place attractive female person in skin tight and or revealing outfit – check but unnecessary. Years after their respective shows were cancelled there still exists a legion of male Joss Whedon fans out there that still weep softly to themselves every time they watch a rerun of Buffy or Firefly and watch Sarah Michelle Gellar stake a vampire in a prom dress or see Jewel Staite all greasy from working on Serenity’s engine in a cargo pants and a wife beater.

Sorry, had to wipe a quick tear from my eye. God I hate it when my inner nerd gets all emotional.

So that leaves us with the weapon itself. Hmm. Well, we all know that gun manufacturers have used attractive women from time immemorial to showcase their wares. You know I’d even be willing to bet you then when Tom Cruise’s character in The Last Samurai freaked out and walked off stage at the expo the Winchester corporation probably replaced his ass with a booth babe in a corset and bloomers. (Dear history buffs: the preceding line was a joke. I know movies aren’t real. And besides, we all know that what Captain Scientology was actually holding was really a pocket Derringer anyway. Bitch is just that short!) So what is it about an attractive woman holding a weapon that gets to us all? I think it comes down to something a whole lot more primal than any of us want to talk about. I think it comes down to testosterone.

It goes without saying that we are becoming more and more passive as a society. I don’t want to wade into the whole pussification-of-America rant here because that’s not really our topic, however the fact remains that there is a lot of truth in the sentiment. We’ve even discussed previously on this very blog how men are becoming softer and softer by nature and how women are becoming increasingly unhappy with this state of affairs. I swear to you I cannot count on both hands the number of female friends I have had to listen to as they bemoan the fact that their men have become less and less manly both in and out of the bedroom.

What does all of this have to do with girls and guns? It’s actually pretty simple if you think about it. We are all still animals no matter how many BMWs we buy or how nice our houses are or how big our bank accounts get. At our most primal we as a species respond to aggression. If you think for one second that Og the caveman got laid regularly by bringing a girl flowers and cleaning her house you are sadly and pathetically mistaken my friend. I think that’s where the whole girls-with-weapons argument hits home: it tweaks that angry, horny little monkey in all of us that wants to mate with someone at least as much of a badass as we see ourselves as if not more so. Think I sound a little far-fetched? Think this theory is a bit out there? I can point to two conversations had in the past two weeks in which both a female and male friend intimated similar information. The guy made a crack about finding a woman confident enough to pull him by the beard and tell him to drag her to bed and the woman lamented her inability to find a man who was alpha male enough to pull her hair, throw her against the wall and break her in half until God came for her (yes, she is a bit of a drama princess). Honestly I thought about trying to get these two together but I’m not sure I want to be responsible for that kind of rampant property damage. It would be like forcing Godzilla to watch days of monkey porn a la A Clockwork Orange and then turning him loose on King Kong’s slightly gothic sister in downtown Tokyo without lube. Yikes. Lizard scales and monkey fur and broken buildings oh my.

You know, I just realized that sometimes mental images can actually go too far. Sorry.

To wrap up, I think the whole issue with women and guns comes down to us just being the animals nature intended. We can cover it up, gloss it over, or try to slap a tie and some Brooks Brothers over it but at the end of the day we are who we are: creatures driven by the need to mate, procreate, and repeat. Since most of us have wives (or husbands – remember ladies are just as much a part of this as men are) that would kick our asses all the way to divorce court for acting on those impulses, we just smile, nod, and go about our day until we see some random girl walk into our favorite bar carrying a bloody machete, a sawed off shotgun, and yelling for a fifth of Jack. Then only one thing needs to be said:

“Dude, seriously, sit back down. I swear it’s not your birthday.”

Publication Update

Here's a quick update on the publication and release schedule for my new novel, Bounce.

The book should show available on Amazon and CreateSpace as a paperback no later than Thursday, 4/26.  Due simply to turn around time for distribution, it may take up to two weeks for it to be available as an e-book through Kindle, Nook, Smashwords, Sony, and other e-book outlets.  I will post availability updates in all the usual places as soon as I have confirmations.

I'm also happy to announce that there will be two covers available for the book.  The black cover is a full wrap around cover and will be available on the actual book while the grey cover is strictly for the e-book only.  Hey, if they can do cover variants with a comic book ...

I am still planning to have copies available this weekend for signing at Cleveland Library's booth at the Strawberry Festival.  These copies will be available for $10 with half of all proceeds going toward the Library.  If we run out or copies are not available in time I will take orders and deliver them as soon as they arrive.  Thanks again to everyone who has supported this blog and the new novel.

Updated 4/26:  There has been a minor delay in the release of Bounce.  There was a minor formatting issue that needed to be fixed upon final review and things are now back on track.  Copies should be available by Monday 4/30 or Tuesday 5/1 at the absolute latest.  Sorry for the delay and I will update again regarding availability as soon as I'm notified.

And Announcing...

I'd like to take a quick moment tonight on The Cynical Sarcastic to announce a new blog from another member of The Proud Failures Writing Group.  Tatum Radcliffe is formally launching her blog "I Just Want My Cat" this week.  Tatum is a very talented fiction writer and I'm really looking forward to what's coming up for her.  Tatum's first published work, Alice (tentative title), is targeted for release sometime between June and July of this year.  Look for a guest post from Tatum a bit later this week and remember that she will be joining me and Meghan Kelly along with several other local writers at the Cleveland Strawberry Festival on Saturday, April 28th.  Please join me in wishing Tatum good luck with the blog and on all her future publishing endeavors.

For those of you that need the link, you can find her blog at http://ijustwantmycat.blogspot.com

Guest Blog by Eric Jones: I'm Silly, Deal With It

Our third guest blogger on The Cynical Sarcastic is Eric Jones.  Eric is, without ever trying, the funniest person I know and believe me when I tell you that I'm not even factoring looks into the equation.  Eric and his wife Cheri are just over a month away from welcoming their second child into the world. He was gracious enough to take a minute away from practicing his lamaze breathing (passing out twice is just not cool) to write a little something for us.  And so in the best tradition of Steve Harvey (and because I haven't been able to get him to try an open mic night for almost twenty years and God only knows where else he's gonna get an intro...)

He hails... from Garner, North Carolina.  You've seen him in most of my really good blackmail pictures from Western Carolina University and at the head of the line for An Evening With William Shatner.  He currently stars in daily episodes Whose Case of Sundrop Is This? on the CW and was nearly beaten to death for trying to attend Russell Simmons Def Comedy Jam.  He has broken hearts from the mountains of North Carolina to the hottest parts of Florida and all points in between.  He still wants to grow up to be Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau's love child.  Ladies and gentlemen... get on your goddamn feet and put your hands together for my friend... thank you Jesus the one and only... Eric 'Hambone' Jones!

I am silly.

I am also pretty damn cranky about it, thanks for asking.

I have been asked repeatedly through the years why I am so silly.  My standard answer is that I see so many people daily with dour or mean expressions on their face.  No one acknowledges you when you speak a word of kindness or courtesy anymore.  That is why I am silly: to deal with these people.

I have always had an inner muse: a clown.  Even as a kid I liked to do things that made people laugh.  My silly side came out by splitting sides during my parents’ divorce.  I guess you could say that one single event defined me and will continue to do so for the rest of my days.  When you are twelve and on the cusp of discovering girls, cars, and rock and roll like any other teenager and your parents have an ugly separation, it tends to put a scar on you.  It tears you up.  On pure instinct I took my pain, confusion, guilt, and thoughts of ending it all and redirected them out on society as a whole.  The world got an insecure teenage Jerry Lewis instead of yet another angry, mean spirited Rush Limbaugh clone.  I guess you could say that my silliness started as a survival mechanism.  I still get silly when I am depressed or anxious to this day.  Just ask my groomsmen from my wedding.  I’m still paying for at least one therapy bill.

If the universe was wiser I would never have discovered comedy.  I was indoctrinated at a very young age with the Looney Tunes, The Three Stooges, The Little Rascals, and The Addams Family.  It became natural for me to be as zany as I could be.  It was what I watched.  To those who think television doesn’t shape your brain, allow me to introduce you to my Roger Rabbit impersonation.  Today we have become so absorbed in the Internet and our own lives that we look over people as just a part of the scenery.  Rush to work, rush to the store, rush the kids to this that and the other.  Don’t talk to people; you don’t know who they are or what they want.  Damn right you don’t.  When I pass a lady in the store, I will say good afternoon or good morning.  I get no acknowledgement, co-workers included.  Now if I let Mr. Silly man out, I get smiles and laughter.  Most people let their guard down for that moment.  If you are an astute people watcher, you can read a person while this is going on.  Even when you’re in mid pratfall.

I enjoy making people laugh.  I was reminded recently of my claim to fame.  A group of us were on a trip to Myrtle Beach just after graduation.  Of course I was the fifth or seventh wheel, I don’t remember, it depends on how you tally up boobies.  We had all driven all day to get down there and suffered from weariness and hunger.  Trust me when I say that was a bad combination with this group.  We went to Harry’s House of Pancakes in North Myrtle.  We had an older waitress who you could sense had a rough night and was obviously receptive to something abnormal.

And down we sat.

So, to start things off while I ordered, I pretended to have a short circuit.  I jerked my whole body around right in the middle of ordering then keep right on going through as if nothing happened.  Well that started something that to this day eight people will never forget.  She starts playing back.  By the end of the night, she took a utensil cover, put two E.T. finger like link sausages in it and told me that I could use them as an extension if I needed a little extra in the bedroom. 

We fell under the table!!!

It took the poor lady 15 minutes or longer to wait on the next table because every time any of us would see her walking by and we would lock eyes all of us would crack up.  Poor lady laughed so hard she was crying.

Recently I was talking to one of my customers when one of his employees came in.  I stopped what I was saying so he could talk to the manager.  He begins with “I took it out and stuck it in.”  Being that this is a grocery store, there are not many things you can stick something into.  I bit my tongue as long as I could.  I excused myself and went back to the back of the store to pick up some of my product to merchandise.  When I reached the back room, I had a giggle, then a laugh, then a side splitter.  I was laughing so hard I was sweating.  When I finally calmed down, I still hat the giggles the rest of the day.  That one silly moment put me in a good mood the rest of a day where I had been letting the job get to me.  I saw the guy the next day and told him what I had heard and thanked him for the laugh.  Something about silly came up but then he realized the silliness of it and got himself tickled in the process.

I am also silly for my kids.  My son is still baking in the oven but I do not plan on changing when he gets here.  I didn’t for my daughter and with the meds she seems just fine.  I enjoy playing with children.  My sillies bring me closer to their level of thinking.  When we play wrestle or do some other activity, it’s nice to know she thinks of me as a big child.  She knows when the daddy voice comes out its time to be serious.  I like to think that she will be able to talk to me about anything in the future and I can help comfort her. 

When you get to be this close to forty, you get a little cranky when change comes along.  Personally I’ve decided not going to bother. I am going to try and bring a little smile or giggle to people.  I am going to have laugh wrinkles not frowning wrinkles.  I am going to keep being silly to stay young.  I am not going to walk around so down people ask me “Who died?”  I’ll let my diet give me a heart attack, not stress, thank you very much.

When I pass on I want people to be talking about the screaming Taun-Taun incident, the breakfast sausage, ten million inside jokes and many other things.  My kids will grow up to appreciate true humor.  

So am I silly? 

Damn skippy. Deal with it.

Dodging Bullets, Or Wishing They'd Hit

The great thing about friends when you're a writer is that they will always be a great source of ideas and inspiration, whether they mean to be or not.  (Yes, in case you're following along on the home game, I should be working on my book cover right now and this is my form of constructive procrastination.)  Last night I was fishing through my list of Facebook friends in what turned out to be a vain attempt to find someone to set my buddy up with on a blind date.  Instead what I got was literally one massive stinky cheese-laden moment of reverie induced by an old Little Texas song playing on the radio:  "What Might Have Been."

Looking down the list of Facebook people that I still know very well and those I would barely recognize if their I-guess-Jennie-Craig-doesn't-work-for-everyone ass literally ran me over in the grocery store parking lot with a cart full of Little Debbie, it occurred to me for just a moment how many different roads we all start down at one point or another in our lives.  If the theoretical physics is correct and alternate universes are actually generated every time we make a decision in our lives then it only makes logical sense that somewhere there exists a version of you that ended up married to every single person you've ever slept with.  For some of you that may not be a big deal. But then there are those of you out there whose slutty little ass is probably responsible for some Roddenbury-worthy holes in the space-time continuum.  Based on the whittled down bed posts of some of the world class crotch monkeys I've known in my life, to be honest I'm not surprised there aren't more bad Fringe episode holes in the universe created by the sheer weight of all those alternate realities!

It also flashed across my little brain that there were a few individuals on that list of people that once upon a time I was in a relationship with in some form or another.  Looking back now at some of my misadventures I count myself lucky to be where I am in my life and would like to think for the most part that things have worked out the way they were 'supposed to' (if I believed in predestination, but we won't start that argument today).  I also know that there are a lot of people in this world that are critically unhappy with their lives for whatever reason.  I know that all of us have spiderwebs of connections out there with more people than we care to admit.  It's just a theory but I wonder, for all those unhappy people, if somewhere along their spiderweb may actually lie that happiness they are after.  I wonder if they have figured out that one 'magical' decision they made that led them to where they are.  I wonder if that decision is irreversible.

The great thing about being a writer is that everyone, and I do mean everyone, has a story.  If you're happy in your life take a second and look back at how you got here.  It might make you even more appreciative.  If you're unhappy, maybe you can figure out where you screwed up and try to fix it.  If you're insane and smarter than the rest of us, go build a machine and jump to whatever alternate dimension you can find where you're happy and just stay there.  I've watched too much Syfy.  Depressed geniuses scare me.

It's okay, we promise to miss you.  And yes, you can borrow my socket set.

Guest Blog by Brandon Stoops: Big Is The Best Costume

My second guest blogger on The Cynical Sarcastic is Brandon Stoops.  Brandon is a somewhat recent transplant to the Raleigh area from Newport, N.C.  Brandon is a powerlifter and as such has a pretty unique perspective on the world.  For those not familiar with powerlifting, well, if you'll look at all the odd equipment in the free weight section of your gym you'll probably find all of this man's favorite tools of destruction. Brandon is also a new member of the Proud Failures Writers Group and is just beginning his writing career.  Welcome Brandon and take it away! 

Big is the Best Costume by Brandon Stoops

For the better part of my childhood I was the Butterball turkey kid of every classroom I walked into.  I was too shy to do anything in public, whether it was reading aloud or talking to girls.  A funny thing happened along the way.  I discovered these wonderful things called testosterone production and weight rooms and they became my friends.  After a few years I grew to be my now 6’1” and three-hundred pound self.  It kind of goes without saying that I am no longer the fat kid in class:  I’m now the monster that ate that fat kid, but in a good way.

I hear a lot of people say they’d like to be big.  They don’t realize that it has its share of problems.  People look at big folks like me and don’t see our true selves.  They don’t see the big goof.  They see the large, tattooed and angry white guy with a beard that looks like the Viking raiding party just set the house on fire with them in it.  Don’t get me wrong.  The shock and awe factor never gets old but it isn’t who most of us big folk really are.

The older I get the more I find that laughter is the ultimate source of happiness.  This is great because I like making people laugh, hard.  I’m usually down for most anything, even when I find myself as the butt of the joke.  Most of the time it’s worth it, particularly if it cheers up a sad friend or just gets everyone laughing, even if it’s at my expense.  The fact is that most of us big people have a sense of humor and really like to use it.  You probably don’t know it but most big folk don’t mind jumping in on a joke and flopping around in it like a giant baby in water wings.

Shocking, ain’t it?

There is more to us big folks, however, aside from just making others giggle.  The amount of stupid stuff and somewhat useful information that rattles around in my ol’ noggin has surprisingly not been dulled all that much from all the shots to the head I’ve taken over the years.  Who says helmets don’t work? 

Wait, where was I?  Oh yeah.

I don’t let it be known right off if you don’t know me that I’m actually somewhat intelligent.  Like I said the shock and awe factor never really gets old although just once I’d like to meet someone who didn’t immediately twist my arm around and try to read my damn tattoos.  That’s one of the reasons being big is such a great costume.  I truly love the fact that people judge me by what I look like and think that just because I can lift a refrigerator that I must be as dumb as one.  Yes we all know guys that can pick up a car but can’t spell the word but there really aren’t a lot of us like that.  It has a ‘k’ in it, right?

And now for the one serious part of this post.  Please understand that big folk are not big for your convenience.  I’m big and strong because I made the decision to be so and I have literally sweated blood to become this way.  I decided at a young age that if I was going to be big I was going to be strong too.  I made a change in my life. I dedicated myself. I hurt every day. I eat more than your family on any given day because this body I built for myself demands it.  Most people don’t realize that the damage I have done to my body to become this size will cause it to wear out faster and I will die earlier than most of you.  Do I mind all this, no. This is the choice I made.  What I mind is when you expect me to be your pack mule because you’re too lazy to carry that bag of dog food to your cart.  What I also mind is all the violent talk that flies my direction just because I am larger than most.  When is the last time someone told you they would rather shoot you than fight you if they made you mad?  If you only knew how many times a week I hear that crap and have to turn and go on my merry way before the Sickness descends upon me (thank you Mr. Draiman).  Folks, even if I was born five hundred years too late, violence isn’t an acceptable thing in our society and us big folks appreciate that kind of junk even less than you normal people do.  I like many of you was taught as a kid to not act up and honestly I just don’t want to be that guy.  I’d rather be known as the guy you can goof with and the big teddy bear and not the guy you can’t cut your eyes at.  I’m much rather be known for cutting up, carrying on, these deep blue eyes and my Southern form of English that I forget how to speak right sometimes, especially when she’s just that purty!

With all that said I’ll shut up now.  If you’ve made it this far, well, I’d say I’m sorry but yeah well.  Just remember that you never really know someone until you make them laugh.  This goes for you whether you’re big, small, fat, skinny, black, white, plaid, purple, or whatever.

Please don’t make me start quoting Forrest Gump here folks.  It ain’t pretty.

Thanks for listening and all but if I were you I’d move. 

You’re between me and the dinner table.

Dude Your Cover Sucks

As many of you know I am currently in the process of completing my first novel and readying it (finally thank you to the deity of your choice) for publication.  All is done with the exception of the cover.  I have NEVER in my adult life had such a difficult time deciding on anything than on exactly what should be on the wrapper for the fluffy,  nougat filled morsel of brain dropping.  I’ve literally spent weeks agonizing on this issue, even to the point of scouring the racks of the fiction section in Cleveland Library (shameless plug) looking for inspiration. 

The old adage about judging a book by its cover still holds very, very true in the publishing world.  Almost every new writer guidebook and website will implore you to either get professional help with a cover or make sure you are at least moderately gifted as a graphic artist before you even attempt creating your own.  Apparently, completely to my surprise, you actually have to entice a reader to open a book to start with before you can take your time pissing them off with mediocre content.

Imagine that?

I have to admit something.  In this process of trying to figure out what cute little picture and fonts to use when introducing my ramblings to the world it occurred to me that it seems more and more that we as a society snap to judgment on a person with the same ease we make a decision on a book.  It shames me to have to own up to it but I know for a fact of at least a dozen times in the past month I’ve made a dismissive judgment on a person based on very little information.  I will slap a label on someone and write them off in an instant on occasion with nothing more than three words out of their mouth or one less than intelligent action. 

These realizations started my brain down an even darker path, however.

Imagine how often we/I judge a person based on a label we’re aware of and not the person.  Let’s try a little experiment.  I’m going to throw a couple of the cute little labels that I’ve heard tossed at people lately out on the table.  Unemployed.  Bum.  Ex-Con.  Gay.  Bitch.  Creepy.  (Racial slur of your choice.)  Lawyer.  Little Person, Writer.  Veteran.  Be honest with yourself.  If this person were sitting alone at a table in a crowded restaurant, would you ask to join them? Better yet, would you want to start a conversation with them?

I’ll be the first to admit that, particularly when I’m having one of my special don’t-fuck-with-me days, that I am capable of being the furthest from social as humanly possible.  I did, however, try an experiment today.  I started a random conversation with someone just for giggles.  I then did something I don’t usually do as well as I should. 

I shut the hell up and let them talk.

Something really interesting happened.  That predetermined label I had for that person fell off and dissipated after about five minutes.

Trust me, I am in no way trying to preach to anyone here.  This is merely an observation.  It just occurred to me that we are constantly bombarded with the message of man’s inhumanity to man.  I wonder if sometimes we forget that the person on the other end of our label / rant / judgment is actually a worthwhile human being.

That is, of course, until they prove themselves to be a total waste of space fuck tard.  Once that happens, by all means invite them for a double helping of cock meat sandwich and wish them well in all their self-fornication endeavors.

Movies and Memories

I've always been a little fascinated by the way human memory works.  It will never cease to amaze me how our minds key memories to the seemingly most inane objects or experiences.  To be honest, particularly as a writer, I find it entertaining to see how memories are triggered by the most random things on occasion.  It definitely makes for great story ideas.

This will probably seem incredibly random but as an example a friend of mine and I got into a minor discussion the other day on movies that have served as sign posts for certain memories.  We bantered back and forth for a while but then began to each come up with some fairly good stories based on nothing more than movie titles.

It may not be the usual topic for a blog here at the C.S. but I thought I'd share (most of) the list I came up with during the conversation.  Maybe it might spark a few memories for some of you as well.  By the way, this list is nowhere near comprehensive.  It's just a little stumble down amnesia lane for the heck of it on the beautiful Monday afternoon.

The Purple Rose of Cairo - directed by Woody Allen. 

I watched this movie for the first time thanks to an extremely lazy gym teacher in eigth grade.  Little did I realize that instead of spending my day playing with this round orange thing called a basketball I was about to be introduced to truly classic wit and dialogue in a movie - and there weren't even any Wookiees!

The Star Wars Trilogy and The Indiana Jones Trilogy

Yes I mean the originals, no Jar-Jar poodoo thank you very much.  These movies were what being a kid and going to the movies was really all about:  Saturday afternoon matinees, bad popcorn and sodas big enough to swim in.

Rocky IV and Iron Eagle

These was some of the very first movies my parents recorded off of their brand new Cable TV on their brand new VCR when I was a kid.  Rocky vs. Ivan Drago went a long way toward teaching a little mind about not giving up when things got tough.  Iron Eagle was just cool because of the jets and the kick ass.  For some reason when I was in middle school and beginning to deal with migraines these became the go to feel better flicks.

American Ninja

To my best recollection, this was the first R rated movie I ever saw.  My best friend growing up, Ed Craft, and I watched the movie at one bar of volume in the middle of the night in my parents' living room because my folks didn't exactly subscribe to the whole idea of R rated movies and prepubescent children.  This was also very near the time Ed introduced me to Metallica.  God bless you sir!

Grease and Predator

Two of the oddest movies you could put together and yet somehow they were played back to back at a church youth group co-ed sleepover during my freshman year of high school in Texas.  I can very clearly remember how stunningly hot a certain young lady seemed by the end of Grease and how, somewhere around the time Jesse Ventura buys it in Predator, I was annoyed with her for geting between me and the television.  Yeah, somebody was eventually regretting that decision . . .

Batman

The Michael Keaton original, of course.  This was the first movie I was able to actually drive myself to go see and the time I became so horribly lost in Dallas, Texas at one in the morning that I didn't know if I would ever see home again..

Days of Thunder

The first time I drove a girl to see a movie on a date.  Also the time that I realized that allowing testosterone and a sixteen year old right foot to combine after a race car movie was not going to engender any kind of cuddly response from the rather pretty girl sitting in the passenger seat and hanging on to the oh-shit bar for dear life.

Starship Troopers

Two wonderful things happened while watching this movie.  First I received proof that my father, who had accompanied my friends and I to this opus, suffered from the same degree of testosterone poisoning that I did.  Secondly, I began to understand that my obsession with athletic, curly red-headed women was a very real and tangible thing. 

Mallrats

This was my introduction to Kevin Smith's brilliance in my friend David Hunt's dorm room one Friday night in college.  You know, come to think of it, in a way a lot of how and why I do what I do now stemmed from that night.  Feel free to blame Dave as you feel appropriate.

Tin Cup

This one brings a whole slew of memories with it and every last one of them involves dumb ass golf with my friends in college on a horrific mountain golf course.  Some things are just better with witnesses and some things are just better left quietly in a sand trap.

UPDATE:  Mortal Kombat
Thanks to Mr. Hunt for the catch on this one.  I completely left off one of the greats here and I should have updated it earlier.  Mortal Kombat is a major memory for a lot of reasons.  1)  The first video game movie I remember, or at least the first one that kicked ass.  2)  My then-girlfriend getting all geeky on me when she drug me to see some god awful chick flick just because it had a MK trailer in front of it. 3) After hundreds of hours beating the shit out of each other on the console, we were all horribly disappointed to see Liu Kang win it all.  4) My friend Dave and the absolute, without a doubt, so horrific it was awesome Kano impression of all time.  I think we heard "hello baby" in a bad australian accent for about five years after the fact.  I even distinctly remember him breaking it out at my first wedding.

Striptease

I would be horrifically remiss if I didn't include this one.  This movie conjures images of floating down the mighty Tuckaseegee river in college, VERY slowly, getting a horrific sunburn, then driving all the way to Asheville with Eric Jones for the sole purpose of finding a movie theater playing anything at all right then.  All I remember of the first time I watched this movie was being so cold that my teeth were literally chattering and being so out of it from the sunburn that the movie made very little sense.  Sadly, the next time I tried to watch it several years later it made even less sense.

Harold and Maude

I watched this during a film as literature class in college.  I remember it simply as the only time, including every horror movie I've ever watched, that I have ever thrown up during a movie.  The may have been alcohol involved, I'll never tell.

Armageddon

This was the last movie I saw in a drive in theater to date and I saw it in a steadily decaying facility outside of Asheville, N.C.  That is one of those truly awesome experiences of Americana that I wish someone would find a way to revive, although I'm not sure you can put IMAX 3-D on an outdoor screen.

The Lord of the Rings Trilogy

I was going through my divorce about the time the third of these movies came out.  I remember that my now ex-wife had laughed at me heartily for being a nerd because a local theater was selling an all day ticket to watch all three extended editions, back to back, including meals.  I also remember that one of my first days as a newly single person was spent in a very large theater chair indulging my inner nerd to its absolute fullest.

The Girl Next Door

This one is probably an overshare but watching that DVD for the first time ranks as the most sexually frustrating night of my adult life and it had absolutely nothing to do with the movie.  No further details will be added for everyone's sake, anonymity and to attempt to avoid anyone wretching in the aisles of their workplace.

The Kingdom of Heaven

This movie was where I learned, without a doubt, that being the only guy in a group of women has its very clear advantages and its very, very dangerous pitfalls.  I also learned that getting overly happy about slaughter in front of the opposite sex can lead to questions you just don't want to have to answer later when the lights come back up.

Serenity

I remember having to be drug to this movie for the first time by my sister.  It now ranks as one of my top three all time favorites.  Who knew genius could be expressed in hybrid English and Chinese?  I remember the night clearly because it was the first time I had to publicly admit she was right about anything!

300

The cataclysmic level of testosterone poisoning the average male received in the theater while watching this flick was exponentially higher than any other action movie.  I'll never forget it as long as I live because I watched my brother-in-law, normally a very cool and laid back person, lose his temper and be ready to go all Leonidas on a rather ignorant Marine.  I don't remember exactly what was said to start it but I do remember that he very suddenly had about six guys as back up and somebody, I think it was his wife / fiance at the time, had the sense to tell us all to get out of the theater.  I also very clearly remember submitting about an extra 150 points on his man card the next morning for just sheer balls!

and lastly, so I can stop torturing you all, The Expendables

This movie is the perfect action movie in my opinion.  I remember it being, for the first time in a long time, the only movie that did not disappoint me and a really good night overall because it included a CharGrill cheeseburger and massive violence and no objections from any female in the group.

Okay, so that's enough of that tumble down amnesia alley.  What are some of your favorite movie triggered memories?  Post them in the comments section!

Guest Blog by Meghan Kelly: I Write Romance Novels

As our first guest blogger to the Cynical Sarcastic, I'd like to welcome Meghan Kelly.  Meghan is a local Raleigh area author.  So far in her career Meghan has published two novels:  Cursing Fate and Clockwork, both of which are available for purchase thru Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and CreateSpace.  Meghan is a founding member of the Proud Failures Writing Group and is also a talented graphic artist and photographer.  She's got some great work presented online at http://callipe-jones.deviantart.com/gallery. Remember to show some appreciation folks and check out her work as well as post some comments!

So, without further ado, take it away Meghan!

I Write Romance Novels by Meghan Kelly

I write romance novels.  This is the most painful admission I can make when meeting someone for the first time.  This is my dirty little secret. 

I’ll be the first to admit, I do not look like a romance writer.  Most likely, I look like someone who should be writing dystopian post- apocalyptic tales filled with violence and zombies.  Lots of zombies.  And I do, on occasion, write such things with varying degrees of success. 

But when it comes down to it, I write romances.  I write love stories. 

There is a stigma attached to the genre of romance that is pervasive and enduring.  Romance novels = bodice rippers.  Full of gooey purple prose and unrealistic heroes and marathon sex scenes that are written with ridiculous euphemisms that would make any decent writer beg for mercy.  One of my personal favorites as an example – “purple headed warrior” for penis.  No, really; I’ve seen that in many books and laughed my ass off each time. 

I have read my share of bodice rippers.  Actually I’ve probably read a dozen other people’s shares as well.  I devoured these books as a teen and my first forays into novel writing resulted in the same cliché and metaphor heavy prose that now makes me want to vomit. 

So if I hate that sort of thing, you might ask, why the HELL do I write it?

Romance writing is a billion dollar a year industry.  1.35 billion in sales in 2010 according to Romance Writers of America.  That’s a hell of a lot of money for what some people consider to be a genre strictly for lonely housewives and crazy cat ladies. 

Romance is not the bodice rippers of yesterday anymore, children.  Some of my most vocal readers are men.  Contemporary romance has blown up the bookstores and pointed out that love comes in all shapes and sizes.  The writers I admire the most when it comes to romance; well I hate them as much as I admire them.  Nora Roberts is an industry giant and cranks out five books a year.  FIVE.  She has written over 200 books in her continuing career.  That’s mind boggling.  And yet, her plots, besides being the standard ‘boy meets girl’ variety, are intriguing (admittedly, some more than others) and her characters are not over the top fantastical beings, but REAL people with odd quirks and jobs and worries.  And Nicholas Sparks… well, that brilliant bastard can even make me cry and I’m as cynical as the Cynical Sarcastic. 

That’s not to say that the books of large-breasted, fiery-haired vixens, over the top heroes and improbably acrobatic sex no longer exist, they’re still produced in droves.  Just walk into your local bookstore and play ‘spot the lurid cover’.  They’re just not the only game in town.  And I’m terribly pleased.

So… why do I write romance if I don’t even like to admit I do it?

The easy answer is because I’m good at it.  Romance is what comes easily for me.  Is it what I want to write?  Yes and no.  I won’t say I don’t want to write love stories.  That’s in my blood and tattooed on my soul.  I’ve been brain washed by a lifetime of fairy tales and I like it that way.  I believe in romance and in the fairy tale.  I believe in love and heroes.  So I will always write about that.   As cynical as I am, as bitter and jaded I get, in the end, I still believe and hope I always will. 

Sex and attraction and unlikely plots are not the point of romance novels.  Love is.  The hope for it, the finding of it, the losing of it.  Love is the point and I’m all for it. 

I just won’t write the flowery, sickeningly Hallmark version of it because that, my darlings, is not how I’m made.  My heroes aren’t going to save the girl and then drop onto one knee and propose.  (Okay, maybe one did, but that was his own fault, not mine.)  My heroes are flawed and broken, just like my heroines, and their stories aren’t pretty, because I put them up trees and throw rocks at them until someone bleeds.

But at the end, it boils down to love.  And love is the most powerful and marketable thing out there. 

So, yeah.  My name is Meghan Kelly and I write romance novels.