The Perfect Life #18: All Twerk and No Play Makes for a Dull Retirement

14 Monday Jun 2021

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in The Perfect Life

The Perfect Life #18 by Dr. Perfect

All Twerk and No Play Makes for a Dull Retirement

Dear Dr. Perfect,

How can I persuade my grandfather to stop twerking? He has deep-vein thrombosis, and I am afraid that he’s going to kill himself dancing to Ghostface Killa’s Bulletproof Wallets on repeat all day long.

Signed,
Worried-in-Peoria

——————

Dear Worried-in-Peoria,

How do you discourage anyelderly person from twerking? My own TikTok feed was inundated with this shameless display of girls, both young and old and of all proportions, engaging in such odd behavior. The fall of Rome looked more graceful in comparison. Twerking soon ran its course only to be embraced by elderly men like your grandfather.

For the sake of his health, explain to your grandfather that we’ve moved on to bigger and better things like the Charleston and the funky chicken. Our seniors need to feel recognized and appreciated. If not, they might just lash out. Some rob banks to get attention, others take up twerking. My advice is to commit him to a retirement community. Have him take up writing or painting and ensure that he’s heavily sedated. A sedated mind is a happy one, especially in Peoria.

I was at Walmart the other day bemoaning the absence of VHS movies. In 1980, Ronald Reagan was elected President at 69 years old. The media focused a lot on his age back then, citing it as a reason for concern. Today, we currently have the oldest man to ever serve as President with Joe Biden at 78. He’s nonetheless surprised naysayers with his ability to read speeches and seemingly function. He also regularly engages with various social media personalities he’s never heard ofin YouTube White House video chats. I’ve never heard of these people either.

The most viewed video on YouTube is something called the “Baby Shark Dance,” a nursery rhyme with nearly ten-billion views. That b wasn’t a typo.

I can’t fathom ten billion of anything.

I also can’t fathom seniors all across the country injuring themselves while twerking. The madness must end. We’ve ignored them and made fun of their clothes and slow driving for far too long. A reckoning is coming, my friend. Be ready.

One day we’ll gaze into the mirror and behold their final act of vengeance. We’ll be old, too. Then we’ll also twerk against the wishes of our physicians, until our bodies or your spirit breaks.

Or both.

I hope the drugs will be pretty great then.

Dr. Perfect has slung advice across the globe for the last two decades due to his dedication to the uplift of the human condition.

Episode 476: Anahid Nersessian!

12 Saturday Jun 2021

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in Episode, Poetry

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Episode 476 of The Drunken Odyssey, your favorite podcast about creative writing and literature is available on Apple podcasts, stitcher, spotify, or click here to stream (right click to download, if that’s your thing).

In this week’s show, literary scholar Anahid Nersessian & I discuss John Keats, the potential for personal observations in academic work, the sexual politics of art, theme parks, and academic institutions, the dialectic of the indeterminacy & the permanence of art, & the scope of Keats’s personae.

TEXT DISCUSSED

NOTES

TDO Listeners can get 20% of a premium subscription to Scribophile. After using the above link to register for a basic account, go here while still logged in to upgrade the account with the discount.
Check out my literary adventure novel, Guy Psycho and the Ziggurat of Shame.

The Curator of Schlock #358: Season of the Witch

11 Friday Jun 2021

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in Horror, The Curator of Schlock

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Tags

Arrow Home Video, George A. Romero, Hungry Wives, Season of the Witch

The Curator of Schlock #358 by Jeff Shuster

Season of the Witch

Also known as Hungry Wives

I think my traveling kangaroo companion, Edwige, killed a Quebecer named Lickity Split in an illegal street fight. I collected my winnings and skedaddled before the cops showed up. Apparently, kangaroos punch really hard. I’m not heading back to that bar until the heat dies down.

This week’s Arrow Home Video is 1973’s Season of the Witch from director George Romero, of Night of the Living Dead fame. Apparently, the original distributer tried to sell the flick as a softcore porno called Hungry Wives.

The film never really found an audience and didn’t gain any attention until Dawn of the Dead became a hit. Hungry Wives was then triumphantly rereleased under the title Season of the Witch.

You could file this movie under the dissatisfied-housewife-turns-to-the-occult-to-spice-things-up-in-her-life genre. The housewife in this movie is named Joan Mitchell (Jan White) and she is 39 years-old. She has a free spirited daughter named Nikki (Joedda McClain) and a workaholic husband named Jack (Bill Thunhurst).

Joan is plagued by bad dreams usually revolving around her being locked in a dog cage by her husband or, more disturbingly, being given a sales pitch on the wonders of suburban life by her husband. Making matters worse, she regularly sees a psychiatrist who can’t distinguish shit from Shinola. And worse still, she’s joined by an insufferable gaggle of the other housewives and weekend parties with Mad Libs games. If I were her, I’d be bereft, too.

While talking to her friends, Joan hears about a new neighbor rumored to be a witch, a practitioner of the forbidden art of spells and magic. Apparently, this was a trend in the late 1960s America, according to the commentary by Travis Crawford on this superb Arrow Home Video release. Joan and her friend Shirley (Anne Muffley) visit this neighbor and Joan receives a beginners guide to witchcraft book. The two of them go back to Joan’s house where they run into her daughter and this obnoxious college professor she’s dating named Gregg. You get the whole Silent Generation versus Baby Boomer showdown between Joan and Gregg when he plays some head games with her friend Shirley. On the ride back to Shirley’s house, Joan has to listen to Shirley complaining about how she’s old and over the hill and that Joan will be there soon enough.

Joan returns home earlier that she should have because she overhears Nikki and Gregg having sex. When her daughter realizes she’s home, she storms off and moves out the next day without telling anyone. Joan’s husband slaps her around for not doing anything. The police get involved, but no one knows where Nikki is. I think it’s around this point that Joan goes all in on the witchcraft stuff, gathering up occult items and casting spells. She casts a spell on Gregg so that they can have an affair. All is going well, but then Joan starts having vivid nightmares about a demon masked stranger trying to break into her house. She then gets the bright idea of trying to conjure something. I won’t spoil the rest, but this is an interesting lost movie of George Romero’s.

Check it out.

Photo by Leslie Salas

Jeff Shuster (episode 47, episode 102, episode 124, episode 131, episode 284, episode 441, episode 442, episode 443, episode 444, and episode 450) is an MFA graduate from the University of Central Florida.

The Diaries of a Sozzled Scribbler #32

10 Thursday Jun 2021

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in Sozzled Scribbler

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The Diaries of a Sozzled Scribbler #32

Transcribed by a reluctant DMETRI KAKMI

10 June 2021

Hello, my lovelies. We haven’t spoken in a while and for that I apologise. I know from the mountains of fan mail I received that you miss me.

What can I say? The truth, I guess. I have been…shall we say indisposed? This is what happened.

For some time my amanuensis has been telling me that we are receiving hate mail.

‘The letters come from all over the world,’ he told me.

‘What do they say?’

‘They want to kill you.’

‘But…but…why?’ cried I.

‘Because your readers are offended by the things you say. Their feelings are hurt.’

‘But…but…I don’t understand. I thought they loved me. I was under the impression I made them happy.’

‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you. The things you say and do are bad. It’s like you’re some sort of madman, spreading hate.’

You could have knocked me down with a bottle of tequila.

‘Something must be wrong,’ I admitted.

‘Feelings are easily hurt nowadays,’ the stenographer replied. ‘It’s not like the old days when people were made of sterner stuff and put up with being ridiculed, oppressed, enslaved, their land stolen, their cultures plundered, being marginalized, pissed on, raped—’

‘Yeah, yeah. I get it. What can I do to win back the love of my fans?’

‘You need to be nice.’

‘No fucken way.’

‘Okay, well, in that case you need to see someone.’

A doctor’s appointment was made.

After a thorough physical examination, he put his finger on it.

‘Here’s your problem,’ said Dr Frankenstein, pointing at my anus. ‘You’re possessed. An evil spirit got into your body through the sphincter.’

‘Aha,’ cried my trusty helper. ‘Possessed. That’s why he’s been doing all those wicked things.’

‘It’s probably Tourette’s,’ I said, not wanting to admit that I was possessed. Though Bacchus knows heaps of people have been inside me in my long life.

‘Evil spirit,’ countered the doctor, shaking his deregistered head.

‘Give me pill for it,’ I said.

Once more, Dr Frankenstein shook his noggin. ‘Afraid not. There’s only one thing for it.’

‘What?’ I cried.

‘Exorcism.’

So here I am at the Convent of Saint Manuela the Bubblehead.

After a thorough spiritual examination, Sista Attracta, a bosomy black woman, announced she knows who is inside me.

‘Anthony Perkins,’ I said.

‘Nope.’

‘Marlon Brando.’

‘Wrong.’

‘Joe Manganiello?’

‘Try again.’

‘Jamie Foxx.’

‘One more try.’

‘The Collingwood football team?’

‘No, you depraved creature. It’s the author Patricia Highsmith.’

‘Oh, her,’ I said. ‘She’s a sweetie. What’s she doing in me? I thought she was into women. Hey, you, come out of there this instant,’ added I, addressing my rear end.

Patricia Highsmith refused to come out. She swore, vomited copious amounts of cheap gin, caused me to slither like a snail up walls, made shocking misanthropic utterances, and wiggled her tongue in a crude way at Sista Attracta. It was all rather fun, really.

Sista Attracta wasn’t impressed.

‘I must drive out the satanic sapphic supremacy,’ cried the holy woman.

And so for seven days and seven nights, Sista Attracta performed the Voodoo Rite of Exorcism over my corpus delicti. By the end, the convent was razed to the ground and most of the nuns were pushing up yams.

But Patricia Highsmith kept her insidious grip on my beautifully toned, surprisingly youthful body.

Finally, a desperate Sista Attracta beseeched Patricia Highsmith to take her instead.

Instantly, my sphincter dilated and Patricia Highsmith shot out of my arsehole (asshole to Americans who can’t speak English) and down Sista Attracta’s throat.

‘Oh, yuck,’ cried Sista.

Before the evil could take full possession of Sista Attracta’s body, I heard my personal assistant tell her to implant a good influence in me. Sista Attracta complied moments before Patricia Highsmith took full control.

When I came to my senses I was twirling gayly through the convent garden, picking flowers and singing ‘The hills are alive with the sound of music’.

‘What’s going on?’ I yelled, alarmed.

‘You’re possessed by the spirit of Maria von Trapp,’ said my assistant.

‘Who’s she when she’s not running from Nazis?’

‘Julie Andrews’ character in The Sound of Music.’

Horrified, I said ‘frack’ instead of ‘fuck’ and ‘shoot’ instead of ‘shit’.

‘What have you done?’ I shouted.

‘From now on you will be nice,’ he said with a shoot-eating grin.

As mortified as I was about my condition, it was nothing compared to what was happening to poor Sista Attracta.

Have you ever seen a big black woman dressed in a nun’s habit lewdly waggle her tongue at you and say foul things about ethnic minorities while cooking jambalaya over an open fire?

I have. I ain’t pretty.

À bientôt, mes amies.

The Sozzled Scribbler was born in the shadow of the Erechtheion in Athens, Greece, to an Egyptian street walker and a Greek bear wrestler. He is currently stateless and lives on gin and cigarettes.

Dmetri Kakmi is the author of Mother Land (shortlisted for the New South Wales Premier’s Literary Awards in Australia), and the editor of When We Were Young. His latest book is The Door and Other Uncanny Tales. He does not endorse the Sozzled Scribbler’s views.

Comics Are Trying to Break Your Heart #126: Sector’s End

09 Wednesday Jun 2021

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in Comic Books, Comics Are Trying to Break Your Heart

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Comics Are Trying to Break Your Heart #126 by Drew Barth

Sector’s End

It’s been a full year since I last wrote about the first handful of issues of Far Sector and we return now to the series at its conclusion. I mentioned before how Far Sector was the kind of comic we needed at that moment—how it could capture the feeling of the time as only comics could during a time of massive social unrest. With its depictions of protests and police brutality coming months ahead of the George Floyd protests in early June last year, Jemisin and Campbell created a story that immediately resonated. How have things gone, one year later, now that the world has changed slightly and the series has ended?

When we last checked in with Sojourner “Jo” Mullein, the City Enduring was in a state after protests linked to both the emotional uninhibiting drug, Switchoff, and the first two murders in the city in about five hundred years. Since then, though? We’ve been through meme black markets and sweatshops, further murders, an attempted coup, and a fight in AI-space that could have killed Jo. You know, standard Green Lantern fare. But from Jo doing her best Kamina to the complete upheaval of society, Far Sector does not know how to stop. Jemisin and Campbell are masters are creating the kind of story and pacing that takes full advantage of comics as a storytelling medium. We can get whole issues of almost non-stop action with others that slow the pace and give us time to process and reflect alongside Jo herself. We fight as she fights, discover as she does, and rest in turn.

Even as Far Sector wears the Comic Book Action on its sleeve well, this is also Jemisin with her best lens on the societal ills we find ourselves in constantly. It proves, more than anything, that accountability and consequences are some of the most important things when writing a series about a whole society beginning to unravel. This isn’t a lone warrior fighting alone against a single tyrannical entity that ends in a bloody victory—Far Sector proves that shit’s too fantastical for fantasy. All change in this series is the effort of many more people, more than we ever see. It is the kind of thing that can fill a reader up with hope for something similar happening in their own lifetimes even if their own government tries every trick it has to keep something positive from happening.

As a series, Jemisin and Campbell have created a series where the ending absolutely feels earned as it is the result of hundreds coming together to make things better for their city. As much as we want to laud the single hero, the larger institutional changes of the City Enduring are through the effort of people. Even if it is only a couple people working and protesting, it is all of the small efforts that build up to a grander result.

Get excited. Get together again.

Drew Barth at Miami Book Fair in 2019.

Drew Barth (Episode 331) is a writer residing in Winter Park, FL. He received his MFA from the University of Central Florida. Right now, he’s worrying about his cat.

Lost Chords & Serenades Divine #21: An Interview with Jad Fair

08 Tuesday Jun 2021

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in Lost Chords & Serenades Divine, Music

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Lost Chords & Serenades Divine #21 by Stephen McClurg

An Interview with Jad Fair

Jad Fair has had anything but a conventional music career. Known for collaborations with everyone from Daniel Johnston to Moe Tucker to John Zorn, he made a recent album with songwriter and puppeteer David Liebe Hart. Also a visual artist, Fair is probably most well-known for Half Japanese, a band featured in many books and documentaries about outsider music.

He is currently releasing at least two albums every week this year. I was lucky enough for Fair to spare some time to talk about this series of albums. Since New Year’s Eve, he has (as of the time of this writing) released thirty-six albums using his own art as the covers.

After the interview, I offer some listening suggestions.

TDO: When we first chatted, you said you were trying to get a new album out every two weeks. You seemed to have made that goal and then some.

Jad Fair: It’s not an album every two weeks. What I’m trying to do is add two new albums every week. I have twenty-four albums so far. I think I should be able to easily have 100 new albums this year.

TDO: Wow! I misunderstood that! Even though you mentioned these were about 50% archive and 50% new material, I can’t imagine getting that many albums together. The covers, gorgeous on their own, also seem to visually unite the work as a singular project, though that may not be in mind at all, given the range of song and music material.

Jad Fair: I’m glad that you like my art. Thanks.

TDO: I’ve seen mention of your influences being some of the great bands that were around Detroit as you were coming up: The Stooges, MC5, and Destroy All Monsters. Some of the current songs have a vocal cadence and structure that reminds me of poetry readings, almost like the Beats collaborating with DEVO or the Residents. I hear Martin Denny in certain musical elements. I was curious about your influences beyond those great Detroit rock bands.

Jad Fair: I grew up in Michigan and some of my favorite bands were from Michigan. I was also a big fan of The Velvet Underground, T Rex, The Shaggs, NRBQ, Captain Beefheart, and The Modern Lovers.

TDO: You mention movies and many characters, particularly monsters, in your lyrics. I grew up in Michigan and my grandparents lived in Coldwater, where you were born. Did you ever watch Channel 50 out of Detroit? Channel 50 was the first station where I saw monster and horror movies.

Jad Fair: I’m a huge fan of the early monster movies. I remember watching Sargent Sacto on Channel 50.

TDO: “An Evil Wind” mentions the movie Demon Wind, which is a wonderful mess of a film. A couple of the lyrics I particularly liked could be referencing the movie as well as relating to daily life.

I like that these films—and by extension your songs—could have grains of deeper truths in them. I particularly liked, “Teens don’t think about eternity, not on a Saturday night” and “Fool following fool following fool.” Were you just riffing on the film or mixing ideas about it with lyrical concepts you already had?

Jad Fair: A lot of the songs I write are written very quickly. A lot of it is just off the top of my head.

TDO: Some songs reuse lyrics or references (Nosferatu, zombies), some reuse musical settings, and a few seem like the same tracks. Cultural phrases also appear: for whom the bell tolls, all fall down, time waits for no man, etc. How much of that intentional and how much is your process open to the moment? For example, most writers I know would have edited those phrases out. Maybe they would mention Nosferatu in only one song. Is it in any way related to the repetition that goes into making the visual art? The recurring figures of monsters, stars, and hearts?

Jad Fair: I’ve written hundreds of songs. Repetition is fine with me. It’s not something I aim for, but I’m not bothered if it happens.

TDO: I’ve read that you don’t tune your guitar and never really have. Do you try to pitch the strings at all to something you like?

Jad Fair: I sometimes will tune up, but usually not. The guitar sounds more like a percussion instrument to me if it’s untuned.

TDO: I saw a video of you playing a very interesting guitar. I assume it was built for you, but at one moment there was a slow-motion clip and you were rocking like a classic guitar god, but then the neck starting bending forward at a strange angle off the guitar and was almost folding up–the clip didn’t have audio, but it struck me how it bordered on punk rock or those Detroit bands you grew up listening to and something like The Muppets. Then it showed you later folding the guitar up in order to get ready for another gig. I just think of the anger and catharsis of most footage of destroying instruments and how whimsical this was in comparison though so many elements were similar. Ultimately, it appeared that it wasn’t destruction at all. It was an image that reminded me of the phrase on your website: “Enjoy Your Life.”

Jad Fair: While touring I grew tired of having to carry around a suitcase and also a guitar case. I wanted to have a way to fit my guitar into my suitcase. I shortened the neck and have the neck attachable with rubber bands. The rubber bands make it easier to bend notes.

TDO: Is that a particular guitar that was made for you?

Jad Fair: The body of the guitar is one I bought in Glasgow in 1987. I’ve replaced the neck with a shorter one so it’ll fit better in my suitcase.

Here are ten songs to check out from the ever-increasing Bandcamp collection currently being released by Jad Fair.

It’s Go Time: “234-B”

The most recent record (as I’m typing this) is loop-based. The robot on the cover may allude to this. The whispered syllables and almost constant looping had me envisioning the consciousness of a dying robot. Strange and beautiful.

Wonderland: “MMMMM”

One of Fair’s cut-out art pieces representing the White Rabbit and Alice graces the cover. He has similar art available at his website. I picked this one because I like it as an album opener setting the mood for the record. There’s a whistled almost-melody that comes in and out, like the whistler is getting your attention and disappearing like a ghost. Echoey, dub-like drum sounds, and keyboard strings fill out the rest of the track that feels like entering a sound world and descending with it.

We Win: “Invaders from Mars”

This one mixes several strains of Fair’s music that I like. One, it’s one of his sci-fi/monster songs. He writes more songs featuring movie monsters than maybe Danzig has seen, much less wrote about in the Misfits. The other strain I like is that the aliens are invading in order to get things like peppermint twists, Daisy Dukes, and strawberry cake.

Nature: “You Know What They Say”

I thought I should include a more traditional song in this group, at least as traditional as Fair gets. You get gongs, four-on-the-floor-beats, and some guitar strums to go along with some understated vocals. “My love’s a tiger, Tiger. My love’s a darling, Darling.”

Beautiful Music: “Three” and “Four”

There is a certain streak of Fair’s output that seems influenced by exotica. “Three” is a mix of Yma Sumac and Martin Denny in a dark carnival ride. “Four” is an anthemic, reverby acoustic jaunt.

Midnight Eyes: “Vampire Doll”

Swinging drums, barking dogs, and rumbling thunder weave throughout a story of a vampire/devil/voodoo doll in New Orleans.

Entertainment: “Come On”

A track built on various vocal effects and beat boxing. “I want more romance. / I want to see eye-to-eye. / I want to be belly-to-belly / Just you and I.”

Sunshine: “You’ve Got Me In A Spin”

A Fair love song featuring an array of unexpected dub and panning effects, the latter possibly representing the spin of the title.

Monster: “One Way Ticket”

A strummed drone of an acoustic guitar reminiscent of the Velvet Underground forms the basis of this track that lyrically becomes a celebration of shows like The Twilight Zone and The Outer Limits, fears, and small-town life. “Oh, we can’t have the barbecue without you.”

Oh No: “Bad Seed”

I love Fair’s spoken word songs. This one has one of my favorite lyrics: “Shrunken head in a cigar box listening to Steely Dan.”

Stephen McClurg (Episode 24 and Episode 374) writes and teaches in Birmingham, Alabama. He co-hosts The Outrider Podcast, writes at Eunoia Solstice, and infrequently blogs. He has contributed music as a solo artist and with the group Necronomikids to past episodes of The Drunken Odyssey.

Episode 475: Kathleen Rooney!

05 Saturday Jun 2021

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in Craft of Fiction Writing, Episode, History

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Episode 475 of The Drunken Odyssey, your favorite podcast about creative writing and literature is available on Apple podcasts, stitcher, spotify, or click here to stream (right click to download, if that’s your thing).

In this week’s show, I talk to the novelist Kathleen Rooney about finding the spark to begin stories, the shape for long-form narratives, and the whimsy to make discoveries along the way.

Photo by Beth Rooney.

TEXTS DISCUSSED

NOTES

TDO Listeners can get 20% of a premium subscription to Scribophile. After using the above link to register for a basic account, go here while still logged in to upgrade the account with the discount.
Check out my literary adventure novel, Guy Psycho and the Ziggurat of Shame.

The Curator of Schlock #357: J. D.’s Revenge

04 Friday Jun 2021

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in Film, Horror, The Curator of Schlock

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The Curator of Schlock #357 by Jeff Shuster

J. D.’s Revenge

Time for another month of devil movies.

So I’ve set up the match between Edwige, my traveling kangaroo companion, and a Quebecer nicknamed Lickity Spit. I’ve been promised safe passage into Canada if Edwige knocks this guy out and I’m putting my money on Edwige. Literally, I’ve placed what’s left of my savings on this match. Daddy needs a new pair of shoes.

It’s Satan Month for this blog and I’ll be covering four films featuring the Prince of Lies or the closest equivalent. Tonight’s movie is 1976’s J.D.’s Revenge from director Arthur Marks. It’s a movie about ghostly possession. There are no bona fide demons in this movie, but we do get a fire and brimstone preacher ranting about Satan. Close enough.

The movie is about a college football player named Isaac Hendrix (Glynn Turman). Life is going well. He’s studying pre-law, has a job as a taxi driver, and a supportive wife named Christella (Joan Pringle). The two of them go out for a night of revelry with their friends which has them turn up at a stage show featuring hypnosis with audience participation. The hypnotist makes the participants think it’s really hot so they start to strip. Then the hypnotist tells them it’s really cold so they start to cover up. During this hypnosis, Isaac sees horrible visions of death and mutilation. The hypnotist snaps the participants awake, but Isaac is now possessed by the malevolent spirit of J.D. Walker, a hustler murdered in New Orleans back in the 1940s.

J. D. Walker’s ghost is on a mission to find his sister’s real murderer, after his sister’s vengeful husband mistook J. D. for the murderer and killed him (J. D.). Did you get all that? I was pretty confused from the get-go, but maybe that was the director’s intent. Anyway, Isaac acts stranger and stranger. He starts buying old clothes, straightens his hair, and experiences blackouts when he takes on the persona of J.D. Walker, hardened criminal and womanizer.

Seeking answers to what’s wrong with him, Isaac finds his way to a church run by the Reverend Elijah Bliss (Louis Gossett, Jr.), a prizefighter turned preacher. Reverend Bliss goes on about how we have to fight our inner demons and keep Satan from entering our house. Elijah’s brother, Theotis (Fred Pinkard), doesn’t like the looks of Isaac, but Elijah’s daughter, Roberta (Alice Jubert), is drawn to him. J.D.’s possession of Isaac takes greater and greater control of him. He wreaks havoc all over town before a final confrontation with his killer. Will J.D.’s soul be put at peace and his killer brought to justice? You’ll just have to watch. This a creepy little horror movie with a great dual performance by Glynn Turman.

Photo by Leslie Salas.

Comics Are Trying to Break Your Heart #125: MURDER?!

02 Wednesday Jun 2021

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in Comic Books, Comics Are Trying to Break Your Heart

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Comics Are Trying to Break Your Heart #125 by Drew Barth

MURDER?!

What do we think of when we think of Hellboy? I mean besides Ron Perlman. For the most part, we’re thinking of hellish denizens, ghouls, creatures, and the humanity inherent in most of them. But a series that has been going on for decades and has a world as expansive as Hellboywill inevitably have some spin-offs. And spin-offs are a peculiar thing as they do need to link back to their main series in some way, but not so much that the average reader will find it impenetrable. It is at this intersection of established canon and accessibility that we find The House of Lost Horizons: A Sarah Jewel Mystery by Mike Mignola, Chris Roberson, Leila del Duca, and Michelle Madsen.

As this is the first issue of a mystery series that follows along in the Agatha Christie tradition, a few things must happen. The setting must be established as both precarious and isolated. We start at a mansion on a deserted island in the middle of a storm that has cut off all communication. Next, we have to be introduced to the detective whose reputation precedes them: enter Sarah Jewell and her companion, Marie-Therese, on the last boat to come to the island. Next, the murder. It happened before the sleuths arrive, but just long enough before for some of the tension to diffuse in the mansion. And then, of course, the murder itself. A lawyer at the mansion, Severin, in to appraise and auction the various ancient and occult items being held in the mansion. Then the cast of characters—the lot of odds and ends that are equally innocent and guilty. At least, until another body shows up.

Somehow, even after years and years of reading comics, I have never once picked up a volume of Hellboy. And yet Mignola, Roberson, del Duca, and Madsen make sure that doesn’t really matter in this story. Even if we’re only at the first issue, there may be some small connective tissue linking Sarah Jewell and the other characters in this murder mystery back to the Hellboy world at large, that isn’t the focus here. The focus is on the Christie-esque locked-door murder mystery that unfolds slowly in this deserted mansion. And I’m in. I’m immediately drawn into a mystery like this despite the fact that I have no idea what links could exist back to Hellboy. As the story is, it can stand completely on its own.

A story with legs enough of its own to stand on is the mark of a great spin-off series. And it’s the kind of thing that any longer running series really needs to get more readers interested in the world these characters come from. If a series is going to spin off, it really needs to spin into something else entirely. Different genres give the world a chance to breathe more and complete itself. Not everything has to be about fighting back hell. Sometimes it can just be a dead man in a locked room.

Get excited. Get solving.

Drew Barth at Miami Book Fair in 2019.

Drew Barth (Episode 331) is a writer residing in Winter Park, FL. He received his MFA from the University of Central Florida. Right now, he’s worrying about his cat.

The Perfect Life #17: Family Affairs

31 Monday May 2021

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in The Perfect Life

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The Perfect Life #17 by Dr. Perfect

Family Affairs

Dear Dr. Perfect,

My wife works out of town with her brother, who is married. My wife has disclosed to me that my sister-in-law’s brother, who we summer with together in Nantucket, cheats on his wife, who thinks they are in a monogamous relationship. My sister-in-law’s brother is not discreet, and texts me and our grandmother obscene images of his exploits, which are apparently all with ugly women, which is apparently his fetish.

Should I forward these grotesqueries to my brother-in-law’s wife, or should I burn down our summer house to collect the insurance, and then never see my brother-in-law again?

Sincerely,
Desperately Seeking to De-assholify my life

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Dear Desperately Seeking,

Your family sound more dysfunctional than Hamlet or the Royal Tenenbaums, though not as tragic or witty. I haven’t beheld such hedonist debauchery since the time I wandered behind a Newark Macaroni Grill at four in the morning, shocked to find the place still open.

Your brother-in-law doesn’t appear to be a particularly modest fellow. His lack of shame, decency, and/or personal ethics could become a problem. He’d make a prime candidate for any sleazy basic cable reality show. In fact, daytime television was invented for shameless louses of similar stature to eagerly divulge their exploits amid jeers from an inebriated crowd.

Despite my own erudite lineage, I am no more immune from the occasional boorish half-wit in the family than many of our US Presidents. My cousin Seymore (once- removed) ran an illegal cockfighting ring in El Paso in the 1990s. He approached me during a family reunion sometime after and asked if I wanted to place any wagers. He then asked if I was wearing a wire, despite clearly wearing a wire himself. I could see the bulge in his breast pocket and the sweat pouring down his face. The FBI apparently had a lot of time on their hands. Nonetheless, he’s not a relative I regularly engage with.

Your brother-in-law bears little relation to you beyond a simple title. He would most likely protest his well-deserved exposure by telling you to mind your own business. It would make no difference that he freely shared such incriminating behavior to anyone who would listen, including your grandmother. But I must also give him credit for thinking of her. When was the last time you or your wife reached out?

If someone sent me unsolicited pictures of their trysts, that would be grounds for harsh retribution, especially if it involved ugly people. But there is another way, a much healthier and fun alternative. I propose a macabre dinner party at the mansion of a wealthy sadist who forces guests to debase themselves for his personal amusement. We’ve seen this scenario play out in countless horror films, dating back to the 1924 short story “The Most Dangerous Game” and its film adaptation in 1932.

Since then, unwitting participants in these stories always get duped into an elaborate scheme, where they’re hunted, tortured, or forced to participate in some sinister elimination ritual. What motivates these evil rich tyrants in the first place? Is it sexual in nature? Can I participate in this? These are the questions I’ve asked myself, determining that the “evil rich man” trope is lazy storytelling, even if The Bachelor is fun to watch.

A trial run of my solution will commence this Saturday evening at 8:00 p.m. sharp. Your brother-in-law and guests will arrive at my private villa for a black tie event. Guests will mingle in the parlor and be treated to the finest hors d’oeuvres and champagne a $50 Publix gift card can buy. All the while, I will be sizing them up, concealed behind a velvet portrait above the mantle of the Marquis de Sade.

The engagement will unfold with talks of my alleged philanthropy and rumors of a great reward to one lucky winner of my choosing by evening’s end. Naturally, your brother-in-law will believe it to be him by sheer arrogance. Dinner will follow at 8:30, with prime rib, asparagus, and crab cakes displayed on both sides of my long dining table. After copious amounts of food and wine, the games will begin.

I will first call on every guest to reveal an act of deception they’re currently engaged in. The greater the deception, the bigger the win. Each contestant will submit their answer on an index card and place their cards inside a human skull in the middle of the table. The winner will swiftly proceed to the next round, while the losers get rusty nails hammered into their hands or feet. The choice is theirs.

Virulent objections are sure to follow until all guests realize the hopelessness of their situation. My security personnel will enforce the rules as we go along. Your sister-in-law’s brother will be in attendance, possibly restrained in stocks for insolence. This will provide the perfect opportunity for him to come clean. It may be unnecessarily elaborate and cruel, but there is a method behind the madness: I’ve always wanted to throw a dinner party for strangers.

See you there.

Dr. Perfect has slung advice across the globe for the last two decades due to his dedication to the uplift of the human condition.