Welcome to the new American
The book “The Ugly American” was published in 1958 and lauded as an incisive analysis of America’s myopic approach to foreign policy in Southeast Asia.
But over the years it has come to mean something else: the inclination of many Americans to view their citizenship as a moral entitlement to be served by other nations and cultures, and their boorish refusal to consider competing viewpoints.
I got a taste of that one recent night at a local saloon.
My friend, whose name I’ll leave out of this, is gearing up for a deployment to a “dry, dusty place.” He is a reservist and has served in the military for many years. He, his wife and I decided to have dinner and catch up before he leaves.
At the saloon we looked forward to playing a televised trivia game in which each player uses a remote to answer questions and compete against other bar patrons. One of our habits is to use unusual or funny names. Considering recent events, my friend decided to play as “Chirac.” I chose “Saddam.” How ironic, I thought. Saddam has been booted out of Iraq and he’s playing trivia in a saloon near my home.
Wrong.
Soon, our table was approached by an angry man, who snarled at us, “You should be ashamed yourselves for using those names! Get out of here! Exit! EXIT!”
I thought he was joking, but only when I realized his face was purple with rage did the situation take on the surreal aspect of a David Lynch movie.
Then his buddy, an ex-Marine, approached. He too snarled at us, and when I told him to go back to the bar he shoved me, causing me and my stool to lean into my friend’s wife. In the perfect dream scenario I would have recovered my balance, leaped from my stool and pounded him to within an inch of his life. In fact, by the time I regained my footing my friend was off his stool and the aggressor had retreated.
The fact that I’m the son of a World War II fighter pilot and an Air Force brat mattered not a bit. The fact that my friend is active-duty military and fresh from a Distinguished Flying Cross for action in Afghanistan didn’t matter either. These two were offended and they were going to smite the offender.
Others said later I was stupid for choosing such a name in a “military community.”
Bunk.
My experience is that servicemembers are usually smarter, funnier and more tolerant than the civilian general wannabes who get drunk on Fox News and armchair testosterone.
It is these arrogant, self-absorbed, cultural and political bigots who support and perpetuate the notion of pax Americana, having grown fat on a grotesque parody of information supplied by so-called “news networks” who routinely color their presentations with propaganda and distortions.
But it really has nothing to do with war, respect or taste. It’s a question of having the sophistication to distinguish between an insult and a slur, and the ability to function as a person who is sufficiently confident and comfortable in his beliefs that he doesn’t feel compelled to destroy others for believing differently.
The ugly American these days tends to be a humorless, jingoistic super-patriot whose dogmatic chest-thumping blinds him to reality, reason, and in this case, humor.
A lot of Americans think that isn’t a bad thing. But in a world that becomes more globalized and interdependent each minute, cultural and intellectual xenophobia are the first steps on a road self-absorption, decay and collapse, not vitality.
And besides, the ugly Americans have got it all wrong. America is not about squashing dissent and differences. It’s about diversity, tolerance and intelligence.
The ugly American is not a patriot. He’s one of the things wrong with the country.
About the author:
Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”
Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.
As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.
Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .
It couldn’t happen here.
For decades Americans have watched mayhem overseas, smugly confident their shores were safe from chaos. Sept. 11, 2001 changed that.
We’re talking about journalism, of course.
While American media rushed to pat themselves on the back for a job well done, members of the foreign press – long the butt of ridicule by their counterparts in North America – shook their heads in wonder at jingoistic coverage, timid media mouthpieces parroting government press releases, media “celebrities” and “talking heads” greedily chasing the spotlight, drama queens playing to the gooshy gush of Hollywood tropes and cliches, and an uncharacteristic reluctance at self-reflection.
William Randolph Hearst meets “Where the Buffalo Roam.” Consider the following – exaggerated for your reading pleasure:
Headline: Sons-of-bitches blow up World Trade Center.
Flash: American newspapers print their 10,184th picture of a sad person clutching a candle and bowing his head respectfully.
Press pool question for Gen. Tommy Franks, who commands Operation Enduring Freedom: “For the 10,184th time, Gen. Franks, when will this war end? Frankly the whole thing is becoming rather boring.”
Flash: Journalists provide al Qaida with cameras and equipment so they can receive statements from the group. Al Qaida says a few cameras and equipment won’t be enough. “If you really want a statement from Al Qaida, cough up some real equipment,” says an Al Qaida spokesman, identified only as “Joe.”
Flash: After ABC and NBC receive anthrax-infected letters, Dan Rather threatens to file suit.
Flash: Journalists report the hunt for bin Laden is “heating up.”
Question for Gen. Franks: “Will you be sure to let us know when you’ve captured Osama bin Laden?”
Flash: Arabs say videotapes that allegedly prove Osama bin Laden’s involvement in the planning of the Sept. 11 attacks were faked by Rob Lowe.
Headline: America vows to get the dirty bastards who blew up the WTC.
Flash: Israel attacks Palestinian targets following suicide bombings that leave several people dead. As the United States bombs Afghanistan into the Stone Age, it urges Israel to show restraint. Editorial writers excoriate Israel for its cowboy diplomacy.
Flash: Journalists provide al Qaida with Happy Meals and the entire first season of “The X-Files” on DVD. Al Qaida says more is needed if journalists want to get the “full story.”
Flash: Somebody finally sends CBS some anthrax. Dan Rather bravely refuses to be tested, prompting at-risk patients, from potential AIDS sufferers to kids with strep throat, to snub medical clinics in droves.
Flash: A commemorative plate featuring the likeness of a sad person clutching a candle and bowing his head respectfully is advertised for only $24.95, plus shipping and handling.
Flash: Journalists report the hunt for bin Laden is “really, really getting hot now.”
Flash: A helpful scrawl across the bottom of the CNN screen provides viewers with the URL for bin Laden’s Web site, www.deathtoamerica.com, where browsers can sign his guestbook, view a streamed denunciation of Western infidels, play a video game of airplanes and skyscrapers, and even use a nifty image archive of possible disguises for Uncle Osama.
Flash: The U.S. government denies faking the bin Laden video, saying its transcript of the tape was provided by Mrs. Nelly’s fourth-grade students at Ibson Elementary School in Schenectady, N.Y., as part of a class Internet translation site project. The kids receive trophies on “Good Morning America.”
Flash: News media make big honkin’ deal out of “humanitarian aid” being dumped on Afghanistan – Pop Tarts and peanut butter, which are fed to camels or sold at firesale prices on the black market.
Question for Gen. Franks: “What’s your favorite color?”
Flash: Journalists provide al Qaida with surface-to-air Stinger missiles. Al Qaida spokesmen say, “Now you’re talking ’60 Minutes.’ ’’
Flash: Millions tune in to the CBS Evening News to see if Dan Rather’s nose has fallen off.
Flash: Journalists report the hunt for bin Laden is “so hot you can’t touch it with an oven mitt in the shape of a trout.”
Flash: The bin Laden video wins at Cannes.
Headline: “Kill! Kill! Kill!” Girl Scouts chant at White House pep rally
Flash: Tons and tons of humanitarian aid pelt from the skies in Afghanistan. Back home, a mysterious shortage of Count Chocula and AOL Version 8.0 start-up discs prompts an investigative series by USA Today, which follows up with this story: Has the stress of 9/11 made Americans fatter? Rack sales explode.
Flash: American spy plane downed, possibly by a Stinger missile. Journalists ask a Pentagon spokesman, “Where the heck did al Qaida got its hands on a Stinger missile?”
Flash: Dan Rather gets strep throat.
Flash: Journalists report the hunt for bin Laden is getting “colder, colder – warmer, warmer – colder – warmer – warmer. …”
Question for Gen. Franks: “What’s your opinion of ‘Lord of the Rings’ – and please be specific.”
Flash: Bin Laden is spotted on a box of Wheaties.
Flash: The media dutifully report the tonnage of “humanitarian aid” dropped in Afghanistan. Afghan camels get fat and develop tooth decay and cardiac problems. The military proposes air drops of toothpaste and phen-fen.
Flash: Ted Turner provide al Qaida with B-2 bombers laden with humanitarian aid.
Flash: Dan Rather refuses to take a pregnancy test.
Flash: Journalists report the hunt for bin Laden is somewhere between “hell and hell freezing over.”
Flash: Gulf News says fighting over the spelling of “Al Qaida” has caused it economic hardships beyond its ability to manage and asks Congress for a bailout similar to the one granted the airline industry.
Flash: Pop Tarts and jars of peanut butter mysteriously fall from the sky in Topeka, Kansas, causing mass panic and a stampede that leaves 42 people hospitalized.
Flash: Al Qaida explains the Sept. 11 attacks as the work of “scamps” and a few “rowdies.” News talk show hosts interview child psychologists and ask, “Where did their parents go wrong? Is this a failure of the system?”
Question for Gen. Franks: “In light of 9/11 do you think the government should provide free Paxil prescriptions for all Americans?
Flash: A crazed homeless person confronts Dan Rather on the street and shouts, “What’s the frequency, Kenneth?” Rather shouts back, “What is this? Some kind of test? Don’t you watch TV? I DON’T TAKE TESTS!”
Headline: Oprah could “just slap” bin Laden.
Flash: Journalists report the hunt for bin Laden is about as hot as the hunt for a new angle to this story.
Flash: Humanitarian aid drops of new Xbox game cartridges over Afghanistan cause teen-agers in Tokyo and Los Angeles to declare jihad.
Flash: AP and Reuters say if Gulf News receives a bailout, they too deserve a bailout. The LA Times wire refuses a bailout, claiming its expenses are underwritten by income generated by sports center ad revenue. KRT threatens to raise the specter of the spelling of “Khadafy.”
Headline: Small town America declares, “If We See One More Fucking Picture of Somebody Clutching a Candle and Bowing Their Head Respectfully, We Are Just Going to Puke.”
Flash: The Taliban demands to be featured on MTV’s “The Real World,” so the “real story” of the Afghan fundamentalist government can be told. “We are innocent as lambs,” Mullah Omar tells Carson Daly. “We help old ladies cross the street (if they wearing the traditional chador. If not, we help them halfway across). We bake sheep eyeball cookies, and hold sing-alongs. We are not evil. We are misunderstood.”
Flash: Peter Jennings and Tom Brokaw receive letters tainted with lethal concentrations of Stetson cologne. Dan Rather fumes his letter must have been lost in the mail.
Flash: Mainstream America vows to kill the next headline writer who uses the word “heal.”
Flash: A class-action suit filed on behalf of sad people clutching candles and bowing their heads respectfully seeks cash reparations from the government for the stress these people have suffered since 9/11.
Flash: Journalists report the hunt for bin Laden has been expanded to include the audience of “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire.”
Flash: American C-17 cargo jets dump pallets of hundred-dollar bills over Kabul. Media “experts” say this “injection of capital” should jump-start a new wave of entrepreneurs and small businessmen in Afghanistan, who will renounce opium poppies for selling Pop Tarts and peanut butter on the black market.
Headline: War Produces Surplus of Clichés – Grammarians Declare Open Season on “Hunt for Bin Laden Heating Up,” “War on Terror,” “American Forces Pound,” “Shocking Events Unfold,” and “Now for This Commercial Break.”
Flash: Talking heads declare America cannot defeat Afghan warriors in treacherous mountain terrain and should give up and die.
About the author:
Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”
Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.
As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.
Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .
While the nose art indicates the name of this Collings Foundation B-24 is "Golden Girl," the plane was known as the "All American." Journalist Bruce Brewer stands atop the fuselage prior to the flight from Panama City to Crestview in March 1998. Image courtesy of Del Stone Jr.
The afternoon was cold, and Jeff Newell was trembling.
“We get to go flying!” he enthused, rubbing his hands together, his voice rising and falling in a little boy’s sing-song. The freezing wind mattered little. More important was the aging World War II bomber “All American,” a B-24 Liberator of the type that had brought ruin to Hitler’s Third Reich.
The last of its kind, “All American” is maintained by the Collings Foundation a warbirds preservation group in Massachusetts. Mr. Newell was one of three Daily News journalists invited to fly the short hop between Panama City and Crestview.
Later he would write about this flight, and through his story the American wartime experience – and many other things that cannot be put to words – would be passed along to a new generation of Daily News readers.
Which was Mr. Newell’s talent as a journalist: bringing to life the arcane, from matters of history to the complexities of city government to court cases dense as hundred-year-old fruitcake.
In our Fourth Estate world of deadlines and fact-checking, Mr. Newell was a reporter’s reporter – relentless digger who knew what questions to ask and where the answers were hidden. He performed this duty at newspapers across Northwest Florida, from Pensacola to Panama City.
He was honest and fair and dedicated to the relating of facts, a simple ethic that endeared him to readers and sources alike. If you read it in a Jeff Newell story, you knew it was true.
His job never darkened his enthusiasm for life, be it flying on an airplane, playing trumpet in the community band or hamming it up with shortwave radio operators around the world.
This same enthusiasm carried Mr. Newell through the emotional and physical roller coaster of cancer. During the years he waged war with that disease, he displayed a dignity, patience and strength that inspired everyone around him.
Jeff Newell died on July 15, 2001.
Of the World War II veterans who came to see the B-24 “All American” on that 1998 visit to Panama City and Crestview, he wrote”
“They show up for just one more glimpse, searching in the polished aluminum for a reflection of the best days of their lives.”
Mr. Newell was very much like that old airplane: a rugged, reliable classic who got the job done.
Search the pages of this newspaper and we hope you will see a reflection of his character – his hard work, his honesty, his dedication to the craft of journalism. He will not be the last of his kind, but he will always be the best.
In the days when stories were filed by telegraph, it was the practice of reporters to end each transmission with a “30,” indicating the story had come to an end.
It is with fondess, and sadness, that we call an end to Jeff Newell’s time with us. He will be missed.
– 30 –
This editorial was published in the Northwest Florida Daily News in July 2001 and is used with permission.
I get some interesting mail.
For instance, sitting on my desk is a letter from God.
Well.
I didn’t see THAT coming.
Why would God communicate with via the Postal Service? Why not a good old-fashioned bolt of lightning?
Relax. The God of the letter is not the God who lives in the infinity ZIP code.
This God is serving a prison term for robbery. He refers to himself as the “Jesus Satan himself,” and writes things like:
“I am d Lord they God. D author and finisher of d holy bible. Since u seek a proof of Christ Satan himself speaking in me.”
All righty then.
This God has nothing to do with eternal salvation. He writes: “I love them that love me, and those that seek me early shall find me, and I will fill their treasure … Call Western Union (at) 1-800-325-6000 … give them my name and DC # number with a credit car … give 500, get 25 million, 3,000 get 300 billions. …”
I think this God must be related to the fellow in Nigeria who wants to park his millions in my checking account.
If this God is the real deal he can make his own millions and call Western Union himself. He does not need me to tell him my credit card number. He should already know it. Right?
On another part of my desk I have a note from an unhappy Pet of the Day submitter.
Yes, I am the Pet of the Day editor. Your puppies and parrots and potbellied pigs go through me to reach the pages of the Daily News.
The Pet of the Day is not journalism, of course. It’s an amusement, like the crossword puzzle. But it is beloved, and I enjoy doing it.
To be fair, I publish the pets in the order I receive them. I will occasionally cheat if circumstances warrant, but for the most part Pet of the Day is a first-come, first-served service.
I have quite a backlog of Pet of the Day submissions, and sometimes the wait is so long people think I’ve rejected their kitties and cockatiels. That apparently was the case with this letter writer.
I published the photo of his pet, which I remember because it was very unusual. About two weeks later, while going through the Pet of the Day submissions, I encountered a second letter from this fellow. It read:
“Mr. Chicken(expletive deleted) – Candy(expletive deleted). Afraid to show (name of pet)’s picture? After 40 years , switching to U.S.A.”
Feel the love.
Apparently he thought I’d rejected the photo of his pet. Of course I didn’t, but he’ll never know because now he is reading “U.S.A.”
If a person can become that enraged over a photo of a pet, think of the damnation he might utter for something like world peace, or the election.
Best not let him and God get together. Otherwise, what rough beast, its hour come ’round at least, shall slouch toward Okaloosa County to raise Cain?
This column was originally published in the May 15, 2001 edition of the Northwest Florida Daily News and is reprinted with permission.
About the author:
Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”
Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.
As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.
Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .
We, the registered voters of Florida, are very happy the rest of you Americans have taken such a deep and abiding interest in our ballot-gathering process.
Indeed, we feel honored to hold such a position of, well, how shall I put it? Civic responsibility? Constitutional culpability?
Raw, naked power?
(Forgive me. I swoon.)
Given that the outcome of our vote will decide the fate of the nation for the next four years, we recognize and accept the important obligation that has been placed within our dot-coloring grasp: to resolve this issue in a way that facilitates the smooth transition of political authority from the current administration to the new leadership in Washington, D.C. – whomever we choose to let that be.
We feel confident we can work out any lingering questions about the voting results in Florida so the entire nation can get back to wondering why, now that the election is over, nobody from Congress is offering to wash their car.
But first, a list of our demands.
1. Life in Florida is more difficult than you might believe. For instance, we have lots of water here in the Sunshine State, and it can be very annoying. Also, we’re forever being struck by pesky hurricanes. As you can imagine, this has played havoc with the insurance industry, which has actually been forced in recent years to – Gasp! – PAY CLAIMS.
Because of this tragic and unforeseen circumstance, insurance companies have become reluctant to set foot in the state of Florida for fear of being set upon, like Faye Ray at a King Kong Convention.
So it would be helpful if the rest of the nation pitched in to help us. We’re talking fully subsidized flood and windstorm coverage for every property owner in Florida – even property owners who don’t live next to the ocean. I mean, we DO have lots of rivers and lakes here too, you know.
2. Florida has long been known as a tourist destination.
Well, we don’t want any more tourists. They’re rude, they’re pale, and they block traffic. Don’t send them here, ever again.
But do send their money. In fact, if every state would budget, oh, $100 million per year in a special Help Florida Recover Its Wits tax, we expect the collective IQ here in the Sunshine State would surge above the level required for the citizenry to color little dots next to the name of the highest bidder.
So please, help those who cannot help themselves.
3. Florida is confronted with a special circumstance:
The snowbird.
The snowbird migrates from Ontario, or Michigan, arriving in October and departing in March, once all the sales racks of stretchy-seat pedal pushers have been emptied.
Sometimes these snowbirds fail to leave in March and become permanent residents, like that whale in San Francisco that became confused and swam upriver. Such is the case with Palm Beach.
Unfortunately, nobody is detonating depth charges, or playing whale love songs, to lure these snowbirds back to Manitoba.
And just let me say, if you think these people are a menace in the voting booth, you should see them behind the wheel of a ‘93 Buick LeSabre. No storefront window is safe.
Or watch a flock of snowbirds hose out a buffet and you will discover religion, my brother. The horror; verily, the horror.
So if you northern states would lure these lost snowbirds back to their roosts in Waukegan, that would take a load off our ballot-counting shoulders.
4. Lastly, we registered voters in Florida are a little tired of all the teasing and jokes.
We’d like to remind the rest of the nation that here in Florida, we have F-15 strike aircraft, carrier battle groups, and submarines armed with nuclear missiles. We can deal a punishing blow to any carpet-bagging, interloping smarty-pants who thinks he knows more about rigging democracy than we do.
If the jokes and teasing don’t stop immediately, we’ll aim these weapons of mass destruction at a target you really care about:
Disney World.
Or Sea World.
Or even Reptile Land, home of the piano-playing duck.
Think of it, my fellow Americans. No more $3 Dove bars in the shape of mouse ears. Or the music box that plays “It’s a Small World After All’’ lying in a puddle of radioactive slag. Travel agents everywhere would hurl themselves from mountains of unsent baskets of fruit.
In conclusion, I’d like to say, Thank you, America, for giving the registered voters of Florida a chance to share with you our mutual concerns regarding the outcome of the presidential election. We are prepared to move forward as one nation, under God, indivisible, blah blah.
If YOU are prepared to ante up. And don’t tell us the check is in the mail; we’ve heard that before. And none of those annoying exploding paint packets.
This column was originally circulated by the Knight Ridder Tribune newswire in November 2000 and was published in various newspapers in the United States and Canada.
About the author:
Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”
Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.
As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.
Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .
Image courtesy of Del Stone Jr.
I give up.
I’m tired of the evil looks.
I’m tired of the snarky remarks.
I’m tired of the short end of the stick.
So I’m defecting to the other side.
I’m joining the opposition.
I am now pro-development.
Gosh, that feels better. No more underdog. No more David and Goliath. I’m hangin’ with the winners. I love the smell of asphalt in the morning.
But what can I, a lowly columnist, do to further the development of Northwest Florida?
I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I’ve decided my role can be that of promotions guy. Rah, rah, sis boom bah, they came, they saw, they put up a parking lot. I’m all that.
Here’s my first effort. Let me know what you think:
“Welcome to the Asphalt Coast – make that the Emerald Coast (old habits are hard to break) – home of the world’s most beautiful beaches – hey you! GET OUT OF THE WATER! It’s bubbling with fecal coliform bacteria! You want a hideous disease to remember your vacation? We have lots of T-shirt shops but not very many hospitals, and we certainly don’t have the health insurance agents to treat a mob of idiot tourists with raging earaches.
“Why not take a relaxing, soothing walk along the beach – whoa, buddy! Not THAT beach. THAT beach is private property! You walk on this PUBLIC beach, all hundred feet of it, with all the other thousands upon thousands of tourists. Just walk in circles and try not to step on anybody’s head.
“And don’t walk so close to the water, dummy! You wanna get run over by a Jet Ski? The insurance on those things is through the roof!
“After your day at the beach, try one of our fine restaurants – are you MAD? Don’t get in your car! You’re not going anywhere! U.S. Highway 98 is a parking lot all summer! Find a spot in the gridlock where three cars are lined up side-by-side, and just leap from one trunk to the next, OK?
“Looking for the nightlight? Feel free to sample our many fine entertainment establishments – well, um, yeah, those are strippers. And yeah, those are underage drinkers. And, er, yes, we do have more bars per capita than Tijuana, Mexico.
“While you’re here, you’ll want to marvel over the wonders of the deep blue sea. Most of them you can find washed up on the beach, or hanging from a hook at a dock next to some lawyer from Birmingham who’s having his picture taken. Try not to let them bite you.
“Also, be sure to tour downtown Fort Walton Beach, where the lovely new medians will beguile you with their Olde Worlde Charme. You may even want to stop and visit the many pool halls, abandoned shopping centers, and car title loan centers. Or just relax and sit back with a police sting operation on crack dealers.
“Please enjoy your stay here at the Emerald Coast, where we go by the motto, Your money or your life.
“And remember: All of this splendor is brought to you by FREE ENTERPRISE, where we’re always looking out for your interests, if there’s a buck in it for us. And if there isn’t, well, then you’re the ones who’d better look out!”
This column was published in the Aug. 4, 1999 Northwest Florida Daily News and is used with permission.
About the author:
Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”
Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.
As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.
Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, Ello and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .
Image courtesy of Columbia Pictures.
Starring Craig Berko as Douglas Hall and another, Gretchen Mol as Jane Fuller and another, Vincent D’Onofrio as Jason Whitney, Dennis Haysbert as Larry McBain, Armin Mueller-Stahl as Hannon Fuller, and others. Directed by Josef Rusnak. 1 hour, 40 minutes. Rated R. Streaming on Google Play, Apple TV, Amazon Prime, Vudu.
Plot summary: A computer programmer specializing in full virtual reality immersion tries to solve a murder without losing his grip on reality. As he bounces between the normal physical world and a fake 1930s Los Angeles his company and mentor built, the programmer, Douglas Hall, romances a woman who may not exist.
Are there spoilers in this review: No.
—
Mladen’s take
I can’t tell you if I liked “The Thirteenth Floor” because I’m not sure I’m the one who watched it. Who is writing this review? Beats me.
In a way, the preceding sentences summarize the film’s thrust. The longer “The Thirteenth Floor” progressed, the more difficult it became for me to determine if our hero, or anything, is real to begin with.
My inability to stay oriented as “The Thirteenth Floor” characters shift from actual being to existing as computer code that thinks, manipulates, feels, bleeds, and dies added to the film’s mystique. I was asking myself regularly what was going on but didn’t feel irritated by the ambiguity. Sure, the irises of the characters would flash colors as they transitioned from one state of being to another but, at some point, I lost track of which state they existed in before the shift to a different level.
“The Thirteenth Floor” acting is good. D’Onofrio is particularly notable as the film’s good guy or bad guy. Also well executed by the cast is that each actor played a couple of roles. The characters looked the same but they acted differently, a feat sustained throughout the movie.
It’d be an error (with one exception) to compare “The Thirteenth Floor” with “The Matrix,” though both were released in 1999 to make us ponder about “what is real,” if you’ll allow me to quote Morpheus. “The Matrix” is one of the two best films made. It’s slick from top to bottom while addressing heady issues such as sensory perception, fate, conformity, and mind-over-matter. And, I must tell you, Cipher’s justification for turning against humans shortly before he gets zapped and Neo stays alive, makes sense. What is the difference between taking orders from other humans or taking orders from machines? In both cases your autonomy is diminished.
“The Matrix” is about machines enslaving humans. “The Thirteenth Floor” shows people abusing and exploiting other people be they binary – as in 0s and 1s – or real. They’re different movies, though both tack the winds of existentialism.
What does amaze me, however, is the difference in the sophistication of the visual effects. “The Matrix” seamlessly folded hyper-effects such as slo-mo bullets popping supersonic and a Huey crashing into a skyscraper into the story. The “The Thirteenth Floor” FX are reminiscent of the original “Tron,” all laser light and 1980s arcade game graphics.
If you watch “The Thirteenth Floor” because of my review and like it, assume that it was the real me who recommended the film. If you watch the movie because someone called Mladen Rudman recommended it and you dislike it, consider the possibility that you were persuaded by the non-real me or Del.
Del’s take
Oh, that pesky metaverse, digimonde, cyberspace – whatever the hell they’re calling it these days. You never know who is who, what day or time it is, or if any of the crap surrounding you is real – I assume it is because who or what would bother to program things like our current political and economic landscape? A sadist, or somebody who specializes in black humor.
As Mladen said, reality vs. digital simulation is the overlying issue presented by “The Thirteenth Floor,” and let me point out this is one of those rare occasions when Mladen and I are in total agreement, I mean, right down to our letter grade for the movie, which can only mean one thing: The real Mladen is stuck in the Matrix and the Mladen who wrote this review is some kind of glitchy faux re-creation, because he and I never see eye-to-eye on anything.
“The Thirteenth Floor” started with such promise and limped to an ending that was probably generated by audience reaction surveys. It’s as if they grafted two thirds of a decent movie onto a crappy movie, saving the worst for last.
What I enjoyed about “The Thirteenth Floor” was the immersion into 1930s Los Angeles, with its luxuriant art deco architecture, elaborate and stylish clothes people wore to nightclubs and dance halls, and artistic flourishes of automobile design. Compared to the design-impoverished world of 21st century America, the inhabitants of 1930s Los Angeles lived in splendor.
Like Mladen, I was put off by the dated look of the 1990s technology. Special effects were about a decade behind the times, resembling the early days of MTV videos. More obvious was the rapid evolution of technology over the past two or three decades. I got a kick out of seeing a cell phone with one of those pull-out antennas. I owned one of those phones.
As the story progressed and began to answer some of the questions it asked at the beginning, the plot meandered into an area that is not well-supported by everything preceding it. By story’s end I was struggling to keep up with who was who and what was what, but the real struggle lay in whether I cared what happened because the stakes were much lower that what I’d been led to believe.
Do androids dream of electric sheep? In “The Thirteenth Floor” they do, and while Philip K. Dick might have loved this movie in the early 1960s, he’d likely skip it in 2024. Dick, who helped usher in science fiction’s New Wave and who presaged the cyberpunk movement of the ’80s and ’90s, might have related more closely with “The Matrix.”
You’ll notice the movie’s title refers to something that mostly doesn’t exist. Multi-story hotels routinely renumber their 13th floors because superstitious guests don’t like the association with bad luck. Maybe if they’d named this movie “The Floor between Twelve and Fourteen” I would have liked it better.
I’ll settle on a B-. Kudos for the look back in time, but demerits for a hard-to-follow plot, lame ending and clunky tech look.
Mladen’s grade: B-
Del’s grade: B-
Mladen Rudman is a former journalist and technical writer. Del Stone Jr. is a former journalist and writer.
Image courtesy of Flickr user Got Credit by way of a Creative Commons license. https://www.flickr.com/photos/gotcredit/
A word of advice: Ever get the feeling you’re being overwhelmed with advice?
I have here a press release from the National Headache Foundation, which I’ve been keeping since last month. The NHF wanted me to have a “headache-free Valentine’s Day,” and listed tips on how I might avoid this awful malady.
(Stay away from chocolate, avoid gifts of flowers and perfume, watch what I eat and drink, and consult my doctor. Sounds like a fun Valentine’s Day – for Woody Allen.)
I have another press release from the folks at Shout! The laundry stain remover, which says if I want to look terrific this summer I must carry an emergency fashion kit that contains the following items: blotting paper, facial powder, a mineral water mister, Shout Wipes, an emery board, safety pins, a portable hair brush, makeup fundamentals, hand cream with sunblock, and deodorant. (Whew! With a sash like that I could ride out Armageddon!)
I get tons of these press releases, every one of them as obsessively helpful, and after a point I reach a state of dazed unawareness in which all these “hints” and “tips” and “suggestions” form a lump in my brain that blocks the entry of any other thought.
Enough!
If I followed all this advice, I’d never leave the house, unless I were driving a Winnebago loaded with emergency junk.
Which is exactly what they want, right? They’re not giving “advice.” They’re selling things. “Buy lots of stuff on threat of not looking cool if you get caught without your wipes.”
Puh-leeze.
Garrison Keillor said that capitalism has bestowed the land with a “profound ugliness.”
In this case, ugly is only as deep as the stack of mail on your desk.
Mini-movie review: “The Rage” continues a long line of catastrophic movie sequels. This follow-up to Stephen King’s breakout book “Carrier” follows a predictable path of teen angst, sexual tension and social dynamics – with far less pyrotechnical results. If you saw “Carrie” you saw the better movie. Save “Rage” for video.
A bad omen: I was driving home when five black balloons appeared in the street, carried by the wind, and bounced toward my car. I ran over one. Uh oh, I thought. This could be bad.
Sure enough, five minutes later my doorbell rang. An angry-looking man stood there. “You the man with the Rottweiler?” he snarled. Before I could stammer that I’m a cat man, his friend pointed down the street, and off they went.
Bad luck balloons, huh.
La aqua del flora: Mary LeCompte of Destin wants to know where to find Florida Water, that magical, beautiful stuff the Daily News featured on a recent Health page. We’ve been unable to track down a local connection, so I told Mary I’d ask our best source – YOU!
Mailbag: I get the most fascinating mail.
Somebody who signed his name “tTt” (that’s three crosses) invited me to be baptized. I wonder which heresy prompted that?
Then there’s the guy who wrote to say he wishes I would simply fall asleep and never wake up. Now that is a loving and charitable thing to say to a columnist. Top o’ the mornin’ to ya on this St. Patty’s Day, Sir.
This column was originally published in the March 17, 1999 edition of the Northwest Florida Daily News and is used with permission.
About the author:
Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”
Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.
As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.
Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, Ello and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .
Image courtesy of Mike Skoropad by way of a Creative Commons license. https://www.flickr.com/photos/192905932@N07/51156116220
They got mail: Last week I asked you guys to e-mail birthday greetings to Karen Jarnigan (formerly Wolf) and Tavel Bell (formerly Cowen), who both used to work at the Daily News and then moved along to bigger and better things.
Wow, did you e-mail!
By Friday afternoon, Karen had raked in almost 70 messages and electronic birthday cards. And Tavel reported a similar avalanche – so many she hadn’t been able to count them all yet.
It was part birthday surprise and part birthday joke, and I thought they’d be a tad aggravated. But guess what?
THEY LOVED IT!
Karen said it was the coolest birthday gift she’d ever gotten, and Tavel, who was at the hospital in Ramstein, Germany, tending to a sick husband, said she really, really needed something to cheer her up.
So y’all done good, Karen and Tavel asked me to tell you that.
Cellular hellular: I was maneuvering for my life in the parking lot of a local grocery store when Mr. Middle-Aged Flabby White Guy driving a six-wheeled Extended Cab Surrogate Manhoodmobile nearly flattened me like a beer can.
Couple of days later, Mr. Silver Streak Mid-Life Crisis Guy behind the wheel of a drop-top Corvette almost sideswiped my little Nissan on Racetrack Dragstrip.
What did these two men have in common, besides a desperate need of sexual validation?
They were both yakking on cellular telephones while driving.
Now I see where country singer George Jones is near death after plowing into a bridge abutment because he couldn’t handle his cell phone and his SUV at the same time.
The message is clear: It’s way past time we took these things out of the hands of motor vehicle operators.
I know what you’re thinking: “Hey, Slick you’ll pry my cell phone out of my cold, dead fingers.”
Yeah, well, I just hope you don’t take some innocent bystander with you, Dealmaker.
I think it’s strange that in Florida, where you CAN’T drive a motorcycle without a helmet, you CAN’T drive a car unless you’re belted in like John freaking Glenn, and you CAN’T drive your kid to soccer riot practice unless he’s locked in a plastic shell, it’s perfectly A-OK to maneuver a two-ton vehicle with one finger while you’re blabbering on a cell phone.
What’s the difference between cell phone impairment and knocking back a few vodka tonics and going for a spin?
Not a thing, Sherlock.
So here’s a suggestion for the Northwest Florida political brain trust: Introduce a bill this legislative session that penalizes cell phone users who jive while they drive.
It’ll be unpopular, and it’ll require political cojones, but it’s the right thing to do.
Cell phone users have no business being on the streets.
Dodged a bullet the other day: Jim dropped by the office Wednesday and said – almost mournfully – that I was looking good and he wouldn’t be getting his hands on me anytime soon.
Jim works for Emerald Coast Funeral Home.
This column was originally published in the Northwest Florida Daily News on March 10, 1999 and is used with permission.
About the author:
Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”
Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.
As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.
Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, Ello and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .
Image courtesy of Del Stone Jr.
Good morning, Okaloosa County, and welcome to $4.3 million worth of new development on Okaloosa Island, courtesy of park leaseholders Surfside Ventures and your overly friendly County Commission.
Say what? You didn’t know about any development proposal for Okaloosa Island?
You’re not alone. Most people didn’t.
In fact, had the sun risen over the wrong end of Okaloosa Island on Tuesday, we couldn’t have been more surprised.
That’s because it was buried on the commission’s agenda, which was faxed to the media last Thursday at 4:45 in the afternoon.
And when commissioners met Tuesday morning, following the three-day Martin Luther King Jr. holiday weekend, this multimillion dollar project was approved after less than a scan half-hour’s discussion.
The development calls for an expansion of facilities at Newman C. Brackin Wayside Park on Okaloosa Island. Coming are Sheriff’s Office and Emergency Medical Services substations, a stage for outdoor bands, a wedding chapel and a go-cart track.
The expansion also includes a festival site, a department store, an extreme sports site, specialty stores, a restaurant and bar, and a slide, gazebos, public picnic pavilion and yogurt shop.
The leaseholder is Surfside Ventures, comprised of Bob Bonezzi, Beach Resort owner Fred Tolbert, Atlanta developer Mahammad Malas, Richard Rausch and A.J.’s owner Alan Laird.
No matter what you believe about development on Okaloosa Island, you should be mad as hell, because while commissioners violated no laws, they conducted their business in a way that essentially deprived YOU, the public, of a chance to express an opinion.
As if it needed saying, that’s wrong, wrong, wrong.
“We didn’t mean to sneak it up anybody,” commission Chairman Nick Nicholson said when asked by Staff Writer Jeff Newell if the expansion required more notice to the public or a public hearing. “If there was a requirement for a public hearing, our attorney would have advised us of that.”
Said Nicholson, “I don’t think it was the intent to do it quietly or loudly. We just acted on it from a business standpoint, from the leaseholders’ request.”
How reassuring that the county is looking out for the interest of its leaseholders. What about the interests of the public, whom commissioners are alleged to represent.
Can anybody spell V-A-S-E-L-I-N-E?
Truth is, had the Daily News spotted the innocuous entry on the county’s agenda Thursday night, Newell couldn’t have turned a story around until Saturday’s newspaper, when commissioners would have been conveniently unavailable until Tuesday morning.
Perhaps angry mobs at Tuesday’s commission meeting could have altered events. Or maybe that’s why things happened as they did.
But somebody needs to remind commissioners that government is a cooperative venture between politicians and people, and when you alter that equation, the result is something that falls horribly short of democracy.
This column was published in the Jan. 20, 1999 Northwest Florida Daily News and is used with permission.
About the author:
Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”
Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.
As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.
Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, Ello and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .