That’s it. I give up. I’m throwing in with the developers
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 .
Image courtesy of Caleb George by way of a Creative Commons search. https://unsplash.com/@seemoris
They had to pry my hands off the armrest. I didn’t know which was worse: flying 2,500 turbulent miles or landing at Los Angeles International Airport.
I was a nervous wreck.
Where was my luggage? “Over there,” a security guard told me, pointing in the general direction of Tokyo. Turns out my luggage WAS in Tokyo.
Then, I couldn’t find a shuttle despite signs with 10-foot tall letters: SHUTTLE STOPS HERE. A VW minibus pulled up with I swear to God a Taco Bell Chihuahua nodding on the dashboard. “Where are you going?” the driver yelled. “Costa Mesa?” I replied meekly. He gave me a look as if I’d passed gas and roared away. Another van whipped in and I was hauled aboard.
At last. Safety. Sanity.
My vanmates consisted of an elderly couple returning from a cruise, and an editor for Scholastic Books.
They were mad at the driver. He kept circling LAX for more passengers. But they wanted to go home.
Words were exchanged. The driver fell menacingly silent as we veered onto the 405. One hour and 30 miles of 12-lane bumper-to-bumper traffic later, my vanmates had been dropped off.
It was just me and the driver.
Alone.
He turned around and glared at me and I was seeing Norman Bates.
“You ready to get the hell outta here?” he screamed.
Uh, yes. Sir.
We careened wildly down the street. He began cursing.
“Cursing” doesn’t do justice to this man’s performance. He was Scarface on speed. It was at once the angriest, most venomous tirade I’ve ever heard.
“That $#@&5\% old @&$%#! What does she mean tellin’ ME how to drive?
“That STOOOOPID &#@$&! Don’t she know a guy’s gotta make a living?
“Why would ANYONE wanna marry a woman who looked like a bulldog?”
Each spew was punctuated with a “You hear me?” to which I quickly agreed, “Damn right.” My life depended on the promptness and tone of my response, and after flying 2,500 stomach-churning miles I wasn’t about to die because an “X-Files” refugee thought I was being a snark.
“What’s the most famous person you ever picked up,” I asked, trying to change the subject.
He slapped his forehead and shouted, “That’s the STOOOOPIDEST $%#@ question I’ve ever been asked! You think anybody famous is gonna climb into this nasty-ass van?”
He strangled the steering wheel as he drove. “There’s a system, you know? You hafta be on the list, and once you’re on the list you hafta to be called. You don’t get called, you don’t get in the airport. You don’t get in the airport, you don’t make the dough. How’m I gonna make the dough to fly my girlfriend up from Rio?”
“What does your girlfriend do in Rio?” I asked, wishing all this would end.
I could swear he said, “She’s a hooker.”
Allll-righteee then. At that moment a vision of loveliness appeared in the window. The Wyndham Hotel. My destination.
As I paid the driver, he declared, “Hey, you’re OK. Not like those other #$@%&! If you wanna tour of the stars’ homes or somethin’, gimme a call.”
Sure thing, #@$%&*!
This column was originally published in the Wednesday, January 13, 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, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .
Image by Del Stone Jr.
Instead of New Year’s resolutions, or a madcap review of 1998, I offer this take on the upcoming 12 months.
January: In an effort to lure shoppers, downtown Fort Walton Beach merchants and chamber officials come up with a catchy new slogan: “Get drunk, get tattooed, get lost.” The CRA declares Santa Rosa Mall a “blighted” area, clearing the way for a future abandoned shopping center.
February: In an effort to lure shoppers, downtown merchants rip out pear trees growing along Main Street and replace them with marijuana plants. The town of Baker changes its name to “Cher.”
March: New improprieties about President Clinton emerge. The president responds by ordering air strikes against the NBA.
April: Citing a previous call for a vote on the convention center issue, Okaloosa County commissioners proclaim “government by referendum” to be “way too annoying” and outlaw all county elections. Instead, future commissioners will be appointed by an expert panel of merchants, developers, and pals.
May: Merchants and elected officials complain local media are not rubber-stamping their press releases and boostering their causes. They seek expert guidance in media control from former Cambodian dictator Pol Pot.
June: North Okaloosa Fire District officials seek expert guidance with their finances from Niceville High School. The CRA declares Silver Sands Factory Stores to be a “blighted” area. The town of Grayton Beach changes its name to “Xena, Warrior Princess.”
July: Okaloosa commissioners tout the need for a convention center, explaining such a facility could be used to store emergency supplies of Tourist Development Commission brochures and crates of those little chicken snacks served at every public function since 1958.
August: A consortium called 239 Disposal Inc. files permits to open a plutonium reprocessing facility in northern Okaloosa County. Merchants and landowners quack about all the jobs such a facility will bring to the area. Indeed, oncologists and morticians flock to Crestview. The town of Navarre changes its name to “Viagra Falls.”
September: In an effort to lure shoppers, downtown merchants ask lawmen to lay down metal spikes across Main Street. Angry that a Psychic Hotline poll shows his popularity falling below that of Abraham Lincoln’s, President Clinton orders air strikes against Mount Rushmore.
October: The CRA designates all of Santa Rosa County a “blighted” area, clearing the way for concrete yard gnome dealerships, ostrich obedience schools and UFO landing pads.
November: In an effort to lure shoppers, downtown merchants call on Gov. Jeb Bush to muster National Guard troops to forcibly halt and remove motorists from their cars. If a convention center is built, county officials promise to honor Okaloosa Island’s indelible link to the sea by naming the facility “Flipper.”
December: Downtown merchants celebrate the millennium with “First Strike,” an artillery barrage on factory outlet stores in Foley, Ala. South Walton changes its name to “Margaritaville” and secedes from the planet. The Y2K bug strikes and the entire world shuts down except the North Okaloosa Fire District.
This column was originally published on Wednesday, Jan. 6, 1999 in 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 Christmas I received many, many newsletter updates about my friends, their families and their lives.
I enjoy these epistles, but I come away from them feeling inadequate, which is a nice way of saying I come away from them feeling like an abject failure. My life is only a pale shadow of their exciting travels and accomplishments.
Therefore, next year I will send a newsletter of my own. This is what it will say:
“Greetings from Stockholm, where I am receiving the Nobel Prize for chemistry. I thought to invite you, but only people with IQs above 185 are allowed.
I not only conquered my fear of flying but received my commercial airline pilot’s license, which enabled me to ferry the president and his concubine aboard the Concorde on a fact-finding tour of various South Pacific tropical paradises.
And that little weight problem I grappled with last year? Not only did I get back into shape, I recently posed for the Mr. November foldout of the Under Gear catalog. Good thing my washboard abs were honed to a glistening edge by personal trainer, Arnold Schwarzenegger.
My goal for the coming year is to occupy the top 10 positions on the New York Times best seller list – simultaneously.
My wife, Carolyn Murphy the supermodel, finished that show in Milan and came home to complete her doctorate’s – magna cum laude of course – in cosmology. She will complete her Grand Unification Theory aboard the International Space Station, once she’s finished carving that sculpture of the president into Mount Rushmore.
Our daughter, Zelda, recently won the best actress Academy Award for her portrayal of Juliet Capulet in James Cameron’s new movie, “Shakespeare vs. The Terminator,” which grossed over $2 billion in worldwide ticket receipts. Now it’s back to Oxford – assuming they grant her tenure. If not, she’s been asked to serve a term as prime minister of Japan.
Meanwhile, our son Abercrombie defeated the Russian Federation representative for the world chess crown and recently established radio contact with the Antareans, a race of superbeings who inhabit a distant planet and have promised to share their secrets of immortality and galactic peace with humanity. He’s a clever scamp. Now if I could only get him to make his bed.
Even the family dog, Clytemnestra, has news. She received a presidential citation for leading the passengers and crew of a grounded cruise liner to safety, and recently disarmed a gang of thugs she discovered in the house trying to make off with the Spode. If you see her story on “60 Minutes,” pay close attention to the tile in the entryway – it’s Tuscany, and I quarried, cut, polished and laid it myself (with a little help from Bob Vila).
Lastly, our house has been declared a national sanctuary by federal wildlife officials after a rare orchid, thought to have been extinct 100 million years ago, was discovered growing in our back yard amidst the kiwi grove.
Well, enough about me and my family. How was our tawdry, hollow shell of an existence for the year?”
This column was published in the Dec. 30, 1998 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 Shannon Holman. https://www.flickr.com/photos/shannonholman/
They came by email and they came by telephone and they came by fax and even good old Uncle Sam’s snail mail.
And almost to a man and woman they cried: Kick the flickers.
You folks really hate people who flick their cigarette butts out car windows. Sheesh. And judging by your comments, you’d take vicarious delight in watching the offenders skewered on the sword of public exposure.
Here’s a sampling of your comments:
One man wrote to say he’d seen “a big fat guy in a big red Caddy” roll down his window and toss out a cigarette. Our correspondent got out of his car.
“I knocked on his window. After he rolled it down, I asked him if he was aware that he (had) just accidentally dropped his cigarette. He simply said, ‘Yup’ and quickly rolled up his window and took off.”
An auto mechanic who lives in Navarre revealed a problem with butt-flicking I hadn’t considered.
“By also working on cars, and the newer model cars – the ones with today’s high-tech plastic, I have come across places under the car, the engine compartment, front bumper area, moldings outside and even inside that have burn marks on them where undoubtedly a cigarette was thrown from another vehicle.”
He also said that once, he’d repaired a car’s AC system – to the tune of $150 – after a tossed butt burned a hole through a hose.
A lady reported that as she’d been driving on a local thoroughfare, a burning cigarette flung from the car ahead flew through her open window and landed in the back seat. Good thing she didn’t have a child strapped in back there.
Sheriff’s deputies and Fort Walton Beach policemen called to remind everybody that there are laws against littering – and flicked cigarettes qualify as litter.
On the flip side of this coin, I received several notes from people who warned I’d probably end up with a fat lip – or a lawsuit – if I published people’s license plate numbers.
The fat lip I can’t speak to (although I’m shopping for a hockey mask!). But a lawsuit, I’m told, is not an option, because I would not be identifying a person per se, but only a car the anonymous perp was driving.
Others wrote to say that I would not publish their license plate numbers. They left it at that.
So, what do I do?
Well … unless somebody can point out to me a compelling reason not to do it, I’ll be driving with a notepad at the ready.
Traffic bozos beware!
More local signings: Crestview retired military man and author Col. Don Carmichael has scheduled several signings for his book “A Trumpet for Freedom: (The Legacy: Lost Heritage and War).”
Carmichael describes his book as a look at our culture and its most recent wars – World War II, Korea, and the good, bad and ugly of Vietnam.
Signings are Friday at Destin’s Books-A-Million from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. and at Bayou Books in Niceville from 3 to 5 p.m.; Saturday at the Eglin base exchange from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m.; and Sunday, Pensacola’s Books-A-Million from 1 to 3 p.m.
Remember: Stop and talk to the author!
This column was originally published in the Wednesday, Dec. 16, 1998 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 .
This photo has been largely agreed upon as having been taken at the Palm Theater in Fort Walton Beach, although some doubt remains. I was unable to find the name of the photographer. If anybody knows the identity of the photographer, please let me know. I'll be happy to include a credit or remove the photo, if the photographer would prefer. I found it under a Creative Commons license and it appears to be available for use.
First they closed the Stardust. Now, the old Palm Theater has burned to the ground.
Ashes to dust.
For me, the Palm, called The Picture Show these past few years, had assumed a warm and comfortable place in memory, like a favorite song, that first love or one of life’s essential awakenings.
The Palm was the venue for my first “date.” I was 12 and she was 11. My mother dropped us off; her mother picked us up. The feature was Disney’s “Snow White.” I accidentally kicked over the bottle of Coke I’d smuggled into the theater. It clanked loudly all the way to the front of the auditorium.
And – ahem – there was no kissing (Yuck).
That first date notwithstanding, the Palm is where I traveled from childhood to adolescence. The occasion was “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service,” a James Bond movie, which for years my parents had forbidden me to see, the reason being sex, not violence. I knew that when James Bond became OK, something important about me had changed. I was growing up.
It is also where a friend and I sat through all five “Planet of the Apes” movies. We began this marathon by crouching on the floor in front of the screen, as every mother in town had spotted this rare opportunity to get rid of the kids for a day and the theater was overrun with fidgety 8-year-olds. Luckily, we found an empty seat next to a boy who was willing to let his little brother sit in his lap, so we moved back a few rows, preventing permanent damage to our necks, eyes and spines.
The Palm had a balcony – prime real estate for vandalous little boys with half foot-long gherkins ripe with bright green juice to be squirted onto an unsuspecting audience.
And the staff did not roust you from the theater after each movie showing. You could stay as long as you wanted. I watched “You Only Live Twice” three times in a row.
The Palm had terrific air-conditioning, and on a hot summer afternoon a bratty little kid could lie about his age, get in for 50 cents, and spend two wonderful hours ensconced within the balm of dry, cool, delicious darkness, mesmerized by what have become genre classics: “2001: A Space Odyssey,” “The Other” and “Omega Man.”
Alas, the Palm fell victim to the multiplexes – a shame because moviegoers today are deprived of a unique experience: sitting in a spacious theater, where curtains roll back to reveal a screen as wide as a prairie, and where the synergy of picture and audience reaches a critical mass that cannot be duplicated in the sticky little boxes that pass for theaters these days.
I miss the Palm. It didn’t have fancy sound systems or cup holders in the seats, but it did have grandeur and a sense of excitement that made going to the movies a big deal in a little kid’s life.
Maybe one day theaters will go back to what the Palm was. I think we could all use that small touch of class.
This column was published in the October 1998 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 .