My solution to the stinky Dolphins? Draft non-NFL players
I have thrown away my Miami Dolphins watch cap, my Miami Dolphins keychain, my Miami Dolphins Viagra prescription and my Miami Dolphins helmeted killer dolphin action figure.
I have committed these unthinkable acts because this year, the Miami Dolphins smell like three-day-old chum. If Ruckel Middle School belonged to the NFL, the JV team would have a better win-loss record than the Miami Dolphins.
The Fish are losers.
Why is this? My theory is the Miami Dolphins have “drafted” poorly. For those of you who do not study the Miami Dolphins the way some people study the Dead Sea Scrolls, the term “draft” refers to a process whereby teams choose players, similar to the way the United States chose players for the “Vietnam Bowl” except in the NFL players like former Miami Dolphin running back Ricky Williams wait until thy are two years into their contracts before running away to a foreign country.
But don’t let me dwell on Ricky Williams, who is studying holistic medicine but may I gently suggest he change his major to abnormal psychology because he appears to be, if I may borrow a medical term, “crazy.”
I am all about “solutions.” And my solution to the belly-up Dolphins is: Draft non-football players.
“But that’s what they’ve been doing the past four years!” you gasp, choking on your Mrs. Paul’s fried dolphin fingers. Tut tut, I am talking about looking outside the NFL player pool for new talent, such as:
At defensive line: that ninja guy from “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.” Have seen the way that guy flew through the air? He’d jump off a roof and land in Cleveland where somebody from the Browns would attempt to draft him.
At quarterback the Greek mythical figure Medusa. You know who I’m talking about – the chick with snakes for hair. If you look at her you turn to stone, jut like Joan Rivers! The NFL would have to invent a new penalty – illegal contact with a python.
At wide receiver: a fully grown Bengal tiger with rabies. Forget about it, Cincinnati; we thought of it first.
Offensive coach: Martha Stewart. The Miami Dolphins need an infusion of creativity in their play-0calling, and who better to accomplish this task than a person who can take a box that once contained a Black & Decker weed whacker and transform it into a Swiss chalet, complete with yodeling mountain men wearing funny hats.
Safety: the viewpoint character from “Halo 2,” but with a bigger gun.
Recruiting: Lara Croft of “Tomb Raider” fame. May she unearth some of the wizened, desiccated old guys who at least can punt, pass and kick without demanding $40 million per game and put themselves on the injured reserve list every time they experience a bunion.
Front office: Bill Gates. Money can’t buy love, but it CAN buy a decent quarterback.
This column was originally published in the Saturday, Jan. 8, 2005 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, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .
This was our non-commercialized Christmas haul in 1960, just before we left Keesler Air Force Base in Biloxi, Miss., for Torrejon Air Base outside Madrid, Spain. Image by Del Stone Sr.
Some cynics believe that in these crassly commercialized times, it is impossible to remain faithful to the real meaning of Christmas.
Phooey! Have these Negative Nellies never seen an episode of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer Part IV: Rudolph Takes Fallujah,” which I believe is traditionally sponsored by Smith & Wesson?
At Christmas, that joyous time of year stretching from mid-January to 12:01 Christmas morning when the stores begin stocking their shelves with Easter Peeps, our hearts are filled with hope and our driveways are filled with new Mustang GTs.
Crass commercialization? If you say so. But don’t ask me for a ride to Walmart to buy candy bunnies, you slackers.
Look, it’s simple: At Christmas:
A bright light in the sky signals the beginning of the season. No, it is not the light of a Verizon “Can you hear me now” tower. It is Rudolph, of course, and he is reconnoitering the world for his Christmas Eve mission (and doing a little job on the side for the Department of Homeland Security).
As the story goes, Rudolph spots a lonely green man with strange hair whose name is not Don King. It is the Grinch, with his dog, Snoopy. They are riding a giant Norelco electric shaver down the mountain where Busch beer is brewed – and the Grinch is NOT bringing a keg to the Whoville town square sing-along.
No, the spirit of Christmas has not taken possession of the Grinch’s heart in the sweet angina of the season. It has been replaced by the spirit of junk bonds and wardrobe malfunctions and getting fired by Donald Trump.
The Grinch’s heart has been tainted, like the heart of the one-armed zombie in “Dawn of the Dead.”
And he’s carrying a Red Ranger BB gun.
Anyway, Rudolph alerts Frosty the Snowman, who bears a suspicious resemblance to a scrubbed-down Michael Moore although much more angry and confrontational, and the hot-tempered snowman assembles a fire team of ninja elves and sleigh drivers from “Grand Theft Auto: NASCAR vs. Desperate Housewives,” and they move to take out the Grinch and win themselves fat action-figure contracts from Mattel.
But it is here we learn an important holiday lesson: In the spirit of the season, violence is not the solution.
Lawsuits are the solution.
So the fire team defers to Charlie Brown, who warms the Grinch’s heart, like a Thermoskin Arthritic Knew Wrap, with his scraggly, pathetic tree, which just happens to be decorated with a Faberge egg. Whoville is saved and the inhabitants gather for the annual Running of the Visa Cards, while Donder gets Blitzened on a keg of Busch Ice.
So this business of Christmas getting swallowed up by commercialization is all a matter of your perspective, which can be dramatically improved by the sight of a brand new GT parked in the driveway.
This column was originally published in the Saturday, Dec. 18, 2004 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, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .
“Casshern” Directed by Kazuaki Kiriya. Starring Yusuke Iseya, Akira Terao, Kanako Higuchi. 142 minutes. Unrated.
Mladen’s take
A confession.
Without Del explaining between sets of kicking my butt in tennis what “Casshern” was about, I’d still be scratching my head.
The plot, as it turns out, is semi-unoriginal.
Corrupt politicians of a militaristic superstate collude with malignant corporation bosses to create a dystopian wonderland of carnage where healthy humans are involuntarily used as tissue donors.
Meanwhile, the leader of a small cell of mutants created by a bolt from the Universe that pierced the occluded sky of Earth and hit a vat of artificially growing human limbs promises to avenge the mistreatment he suffered at the hands of government security forces.
Then, from same vat that birthed the mutants, arises a hero.
And, he shall be called Casshern.
Casshern, with his body armor-integrated George Jetson-like rocket pack and morphing helmet tries his dangedest to keep the superstate and mutants from destroying everything, but fails.
Or something like that.
The convoluted plot of “Casshern” is tough to follow but the Japanese movie held me captive for no other reason than background details. They were gloriously presented with cinematography resembling a blend of “Brazil,” “Sin City,” and the “Kill Bills.”
In the movie, the society spoke Japanese but wrote in Russian, I think.
Tanks and flying machines are clunky, mechanical beasts as pragmatic and ugly as the imploded society that created them.
The army of robots organized by the mutant leader from leftovers of an earlier conflict march lockstep, their heads adorned with helmets that look like Kraut head gear of World War I.
The landscape, baked by industrial waste, is brown-red-gray. Only the rich enjoy green grass and gardens filled with blooming flowers.
Most striking is the intermodal concentration camp.
Spanning several sets of rails, the prison train pulls cars loaded with shipping containers. The containers are placed aboard by multiple rotor helicopters. Inside the containers are healthy humans.
The train set is used by the cabal that runs the superstate to store and process the healthies. They’re used as DNA feedstock for a covert genetic engineering program designed to keep the aging rulers alive.
“Casshern” is no fairy tale. It’s bleak from beginning to end. People are nothing more than a commodity to be exploited. The compelling film brims with treachery. And, maybe someday, after I’ve watched it again and again, I’ll understand the plot and its half-dozen subplots.
Del’s take
I came across “Casshern” in the $3 bin at Big Lots and decided to take a chance. I don’t have a problem with anime-inspired stories and I love Japanese horror movies including Hideo Nakata’s “Ring” and Takashi Shimizu’s “Ju-on.”
I won’t reproduce Mladen’s summary of the plot because I think it’s pretty well spot-on. Like Mladen, I had a tough time following the plot – especially with the rapid-fire pacing that meant subtitles appeared and disappeared so quickly I found myself reading more than wallowing in the lush visuals.
And they are lush. Americans aren’t quite acclimated to the look of anime. I can think of only one American director – Ridley Scott – who imbues at least some of his films with a similar attention to visual detail (“Blade Runner” and “Legend”). The intermixing of high-power CGI with live action to produce a poetic vision is something Japanese directors expect the audience to accept. In America it’s CGI made to resemble live action. In Japan it’s CGI that makes no apologies for itself.
Like many anime-inspired stories “Casshern” is a bit heavy-handed with the subtext. Running throughout is a not-so-subtle criticism of science, the stifling hand of cultural authority, the loss of environmental sanctity, and the violence to which humanity seems perpetually addicted.
But there were surprises. The role of parents as enforcers of cultural authority, the impotence of love vs. that authority – these are strange notions to a Westernized society that has been taught the individual trumps the collective.
More than likely “Casshern” is a standard and perhaps cliched statement movie about the triumph of the will … and the hubris of the willful. But if you can get past the convoluted plot, the sometimes unintentionally humorous dialogue (perhaps resulting from a less-than-perfect translation) and the cultural differences that divide East and West, you might enjoy the movie.
What you will enjoy is the “look” of the movie. Almost every frame produced a sense of awe, masterfully crafted by music video director Kiriya. While some may argue “Casshern” delivers empty calories, think of all the empty calories in your life, from french fries to text messages.
I recently watched “Predators” at the movie theater. I spent $9 on a ticket and $6 on a small bag of popcorn. For the journalists among us that’s $15, or five movies from the $3 bin at Big Lots.
I would much rather have spent that $15 on five movies like “Casshern.”
Mladen Rudman is a former journalist and technical editor. Del Stone Jr. is a former journalist and author.
Video
Today’s topic is so weighty it will tilt the earth on its axis: the evolution of the TV and movie death scene.
In a more innocent time, an actor died with dignity. A gunshot victim, for instance, would clutch his chest as if a microwaved burrito were causing his pacemaker to do the Robot, then fall gracefully to the ground so that the shooter could hover nearby while the shoot-ee revealed the valuable moral lesson imparted to him by the hollow-tipped .38 slug. “You have redeemed me,” the shoot-ee would gasp. “I will never remove the tag from a mattress again – and that’s not just because I’m dying.” Then the shoot-ee would close his eyes as the shooter wiped away a tear and filed a report with the Serta Corporation.
The next step in TV and movie death scene evolution was the open-eye death. The shoot-ee would die and he would stare into infinity, his eyes glazed, the way people look at their telephone bills. The shooter would run his hand over the eyelids to close them, as if he felt watched, and a violin soundtrack would reach a crescendo of screeching as the shooter and the audience simultaneously realized that death can certain put the kibosh on that snorkeling trip to the Caymans.
Then we had the violent death where gunshot victims were knocked backward by the force the bullet’s impact the same way you get knocked backward when you step out of the shower dripping wet and plug in the blow dryer. The problem in the kocking-backward part never seems to synch with the shooting part – the gun fires and a too-late second afterward, the person gets knocked back. It’s like watching a Japanese monster movie dubbed into English.
The next evolution of TV and movie death scenes was epitomized by “Saving Private Ryan,” which I recently watched as a snub to the FCC. That’ll show ’em. In “Saving Private Ryan:” we encounter the gory realistic death scene. Every single way a person can die was used in that movie and they were all very bloody and grotesque, like watching Richard Simmons squeeze himself into a Spandex tutu.
Right now my favorite TV and move death scene occurs in “Dawn of the Dead.” In this scene, the driver of a panel truck is trying to back it up to a loading dock while being attacked by zombies. You gotta figure the driving isn’t going to be by the book (unless it’s New York state’s “Driving Manual for Snowbirds Wintering in Florida book). Indeed, while back up the truck at about 40 mph they run over several zombies who are sprinting toward the truck. I’ve watch that scene many times trying to figure out how they did it. Best I can tell they got several contestants from “Fear Factor” to attempt a truckjacking and we got to watch the losers.
Frankly I don’t want to know how people look or act when they die, unless it’s Sean Hayes’ character on “Will & Grace.” That little creep can even leave his eyes open.
The column was originally published in the December 6, 2003 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, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .
Image courtesy of Picryl by way of a Creative Commons license.
Husband: Hello, Honey Bunny. Guess where I’m standing? <Chirp!>
Wife: Hi, Sunggle-Icious. You’re standing in line at the grocery store checkout. <Chirp!>
H: Ha, ha! You cheated, Snooky-Ookems. You peeked at the camera on my new walkie-talkie cell phone. And I can see you worming the cat. <Chirp!>
W: That’s right, Lovey Dovey. Aren’t these walkie-talkie cell phones the greatest? <Chirp!>
H: They sure are, Babe-A-Licious. Now, we can annoy nearby people with obnoxious cell phone ring tones AND inflict our insipid, banal conversations on them at the same time. <Chirp!>
W: And don’t forget that aggravating electronic chirp that falls at the end of each message, Kissy Sissy.
H: Now, now, Wiggy Waggle. Don’t call me “Kissy Sissy.” You know how that aggravates me – almost as much as your sister, who called me yesterday while I was standing in a crowded elevator and described in exCRUCiating detail the process of having those boils on her lips lanced. <Chirp!>
W: For the record, Sweet Cakes, my sister is no more aggravating than YOUR mother, who called while I was driving our carpool to work and told me a revolting story about the dog horking in the minister’s lap. <Chirp!>
H: Is that right, Snagglepuss? I was having lunch with a client last week when YOUR father called to give me an update on his hernia examination. <Chirp!>
W: “Snagglepuss”? Well, Mr. Toenail Fungus, I should point out that the man in line ahead of you is hefting a clump of broccoli, and I don’t think it’s MY skull he wants to bash in. <Chirp!>
H: Maybe he’s just tired of hearing the TV from your end blaring, “Jer-EEE, Jer-EEE, Jer-EEE,” my little Nasal Obstruction. <Chirp!>
W: Either that or he’s finally detected the fact that you’re incontinent, Groat Boy. <Chirp!>
H; OK, Scrag Hag. If you’re going to discuss my humiliating bodily functions in public, I’m going to discuss those nostril hairs you trim with a Weed Whacker. <Chirp!>
W: Listen, you Bottom-Feeding Gack Hound: You discuss my nasal hairs and I’m going to discuss your third nipple. <Chirp!>
H: Land I will discuss your naval that resembles Mount Rushmore, got it, Abe? <Chirp!>
W: And what about that mole on your neck that resembles Richard Nixon, Scuzz Knuckle? <Chirp!>
H: Liver Fluke. <Chirp!>
W. Weasel Face. <Chirp!>
H: Lizard Lips. <Chirp!>
W: Bunion Onion. <Chirp!>
H: That reminds me … the store has Vidalia onions at half price. Would you like a bag? <Chirp!>
W: Oh, Snicker Doodle, that would be wonderful. I’ll make a blossoming onion for you and the guys before the game. <Chirp!>
H: Would you? Oh, Snuggle Bunny, that would be perfect. I’ll be home soon. All the people in line ahead of me have mysteriously disappeared. Aren’t these walkie-talkie cell phones great? <Chirp!>
W: They certainly are, Kissy Sissy. <Chirp!>
This column was originally published in the Saturday, Nov. 8, 2003 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 Flickr user jridgewayphotograph by way of a Creative Commons license. https://www.flickr.com/photos/jridgewayphotos/
About halfway through today’s Pulitzer contender you will mutter, “Stone, you dunce. You don’t have the sense God gave the clown known as ‘Idiot Face.’ ”
I was paying bills in my post-work fugue state. I’m sure you’re familiar with the syndrome. It should have a Latin name – Workus Exhaustus Twilightzonatorum.
Two checks – one for rent, one for Gulf Power. I did the math (using a calculator … I haven’t been able to subtract in my head since second grade), put them in the envelopes and managed to get the stamps in place without permanently adhering myself to the microwave oven (can you imagine how miserable life would be with people constantly bugging you to heat up their burritos?).
Two days later I got a call from my landlord. “We got your Gulf Power check.”
&#@%$! That meant Gulf Power had gotten my rent check. How could I have been so stupid as to put the wrong check in the wrong envelope? Then a memory came filtering back, of a model airplane melting in the oven. THAT is how stupid I could have been.
I called Gulf Power’s corporate office to find out what they’d done with my rent.
“We show a $500 credit to your account,” the representative told me.
Holy cow! Not only had I put the wrong check in the wrong envelope, I’d made out the rent check to Gulf Power! I must have REALLY been tired – either that or I’d stopped off on the way home for a lobotomy.
Much as I like Gulf Power, I really couldn’t afford to pay them a five-month advance, so I shagged it to their local office for a refund.
By a stroke of dumb luck, I found my checkbook in the car. I looked at the carbon. Wait a minute! The rent check WAS made out to my landlord!
Somehow, Gulf Power’s bank had cashed a check that wasn’t made out to Gulf Power.
I hasten to add that Gulf Power was more than happy to refund the balance. Don’t be mad at me, Gulf Power. I LOVE electricity, especially the electricity flowing to my AC and my nostril-hair trimmer.
But I asked a friend at Eglin Federal Credit Union how such a thing could happen. She arched her eyebrows.
“They’re not supposed to do that,” she answered gravely.
A copy of the check revealed it was the Bank of America in Jacksonville that done the processing.
I talked to Mitch Lubitz, a Bank of America media relations guy in Tampa, who explained the check-processing system is automated.
“They’re not manually looked at,” he said, adding the Jacksonville bank processes about 34 MILLION checks a month.
If I had to do 34 million of anything I’d probably screw up 50 million times.
OK. Mystery solved. I’m not fussing anymore.
I just hope I don’t mix up the Gulf Power check with the snotty note I wrote about the person at work who stole my Diet Coke from the break room refrigerator.
This column was originally published in the October 11, 2003 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 pxfuel.
—
I don’t imagine Thursday, the first day of school, was much fun for a certain group of IB students at Choctawhatchee High School.
To bring you up to speed, the students were quoted in a story that appeared on the July 17 Whatever page about the new 18-credit high school diploma program approved by the Florida Legislature. The kids were asked their opinion of the new program.
To put it bluntly, they hated it … and used a few choice words to describe their disfavor, words about lazy students skating by, and kids growing up to be janitors and trash men.
As you might expect, those remarks triggered an angry response from both teenagers and adults. The Daily News received a number of letters to the editor taking the kids to task for their apparent arrogance and elitism.
I don’t know what was said to the kids on Day 1 of the school year, but I can’t imagine it was much fun either. Teens sometimes have an infinite capacity for cruelty. And some adults too, it seems.
I think it’s time to lay off.
If you want to be mad at somebody, be mad at me. I’m the guy who approved and edited the story, and apart from a few poorly chosen words, I agree with much of what the students said.
I don’t think their comments about janitors and trash men were appropriate. Any job is honorable, and janitors and trash men perform a service that’s essential to our existence. Without them we would all be janitors and trash men.
I have friends who are janitors and trash men, and they’re no dummies. One fellow I know could teach college-level philosophy.
But I can understand why the kids made those remarks. They’ve been taught all their lives that without a good education they’d grow up to perform some low-paying job. That’s a standard belief in our culture. Can the kids be penalized for repeating what they’ve been taught?
As for their “arrogance,” let me ask you this: What’s the IB program all about? More difficult courses and smarter students, isn’t it? In these days of preening sports “stars” and entertainers who make heroes of themselves for their drug addictions, can the kids be penalized for admitting they work harder and get better grades?
But I have bigger gripes. My real problem with some of the criticism inflicted on these kids is that it reeks of the righteous wrath you see from people who are hungry to draw attention to themselves.
It’s OK for kids to respond to kids, but I don’t understand what in the world would compel an ADULT to submit a letter to the editor critical of something a kid said or wrote on the Whatever page. Most adults I know would read the kids’ remarks, tell themselves, “Well, there’s a kid talking,” and move on to more adult parts of the newspaper, such as the comics.
Certain levels of humility and civility are expected of us all, letter writers included.
So give the kids a break and lay off.
(This column was previously published in the August 9, 2003 Northwest Florida Daily News.)
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 .
Photo courtesy of Del Stone Jr.
—
Wednesday was Take the Cats to the Vet Day.
Lest you think this is a trivial subject unworthy of a column, let me assure you I am tired of solving world peace, curing fatal diseases or fending off overtures from Jennifer Lopez or the Republican National Committee.
Besides, preparing for this trip required more planning than D-Day.
To say, “The cats don’t like going to the vet” is like saying, “Godzilla doesn’t like Tokyo,” meaning these normally placid animals are transformed into screeching, fur-covered Obama bin Ladens once the pet carriers come out of the closet.
Worse, these cats, Pavlov and Maggie, are fully mission-capable – they have fangs and claws, and they know how to use hem. All allegiances are off on Vet Day.
My first step was to close all the doors in the house while the cats napped blissfully in the living room. They instantly knew something was up. Maybe I was giving off Vet Vibes. But they slunk off to parts unknown – until they realized I’d cut off all their hiding places.
That’s when the screeching began.
I managed to get them into the pet carriers. Maggie has a set of claws that would cause Jack the Ripper to swoon with envy, and she likes to rake them across my wrists, which I think would make her an excellent interrogator of Iraqi POWs. But I successfully dodged her attempts to blood me and headed out for the vet.
In Destin.
Traffic, to put it delicately, sucked. A rainy Wednesday afternoon and it was wall-to-wall SUVs and vans from places like Tennessee, George and Hell. The wailing of damned souls from the back seat seemed the perfect musical accompaniment to road conditions.
As we crept into Destin I heard the sound of a kitty stomach being emptied inside the pet carrier. To quote an old Richard Pryor album, “The funk rolled out – it knocked me to my $@%& knees!” Now I was wailing.
A mere 43 minutes later we arrived at the vet’s office, where I spent the next 15 minutes trying to conceal the evidence of Palov’s indiscretion. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” said the vet, who explained she’d been covered with every disgusting substance an animal can emit. She went on to relate a truly gross story about her assistant getting hit in the eye by something so utterly revolting that even I can’t repeat it.
Four inoculations, two collar tags and a credit card swipe later, we were creeping back to Fort Walton Beach. The out-of-town drivers were in full Bonehead Mode. Something about a vacation lobotomizes the courtesy lobe of one’s brain, I guess.
When I got the cats home they crashed, I cleaned out their carriers – Windex was OK but what I needed was a flame-thrower – and then I, like the ungrateful beasts, crashed.
But at least now they won’t give me rabies. Existential angst, maybe. But not rabies.
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 .
[ Cover image courtesy of rawpixel.com . ]
From Amazon:
Imagine a future without cyberspace or without the Web or virtual reality. What would happen in an alternate Information Age? What would you do? What would you fear? What wouldn’t you know?
Today’s top masters of speculative fiction offer visions of futures near and far, of alternative histories, and journeys down roads not taken. What does await us at the end of a different tunnel? What would we find in dimensions where the inevitable vastness of cyberspace has been replaced by things surprising and strange? Welcome to science fiction unplugged, and set free to be.
“Live Without a Net” contains works by such standout science fiction authors as Lou Anders, John Grant, Matthew Sturges, and many more!
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 DreamWorks
Night.
The leathery dark of the alone. A good time for a horror movie.
“The Ring” on DVD. Missed it in the theater. They said it was scary. Horror movies no longer scare me. Things like colonoscopies scare me.
Turn out the lights. What’s that in the corner? Did something just slip in with the dark? No. Just a shirt hanging to dry. Not the undead.
What’s “The Ring”? Watch a video of horrible images and the phone rings. A voice says in seven days you die. Same thing happens if the IRS calls.
Slip “The Ring” into the DVD player. Watch it go through its paces. Flickering images: a tree on fire. A chair twirling. A well. The speakers snarl and a ring appears on the screen. Then. …
Nothing.
Is it supposed to do this?
Push buttons. Nothing. The ring is still on the screen. DVD player locked up.
Eject. Turn off DVD player. Turn on DVD player. Put disc in slot.
More horrific images. Finally, a menu. One choice: “Don’t look at this.”
Hit “play movie.” Movie starts immediately. A skyscraper in rain. A man searching for a videotape in his ex-girlfriend’s house. Clouds racing over a hilltop. A girl crawling from a well. Then snarling and hissing. The ring back on the screen.
DVD player freezes.
Weird.
Eject. Disc won’t eject.
Play. Disc won’t play.
Reverse. Fast Forward.
The ring the ring the ring.
Switch to VCR, then back to DVD.
The ring.
What is this?
Turn OFF the DVD player.
The DVD player will NOT turn off.
The ring.
Turn off VC, TV, EVERYTHING.
The ring.
Then, the disc tray quietly slides open. Sits there. It’s supposed to close again after a few seconds, but it doesn’t.
Approach it cautiously.
Take it, fool. I do.
Push tray shut. Everything goes off. Whoa.
Go upstairs to the computer. Put “The Ring” in the CD/DVD slot. Light flickers several times, but no icon appears on the screen.
Find the D-drive icon in “my computer” and double click. Two icons appear – The Ring Audio and The Ring Video. Neither will start movie.
I’m scared.
Right click on D-drive icon. See “start.” Click that. Screen goes dark. Weird images. “Play movie.” Click that.
Movie begins.
It IS terrifying.
Little girl crawls out of TV screen – hairs on my arm and neck stand on end as if electrified. Push back away from the computer monitor. Cats scramble to get away.
Movie ends.
House is darker than dark.
If the telephone rings, my heart will stop.
Call can go to voicemail.
This column was published in the Saturday, June 14, 2003 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 .