Holy penguins, Batman! The Aquarium of the Americas is pretty cool!
Aquarium of the Americas visitors stand eye-to-eye with species of fish that inhabit the Atlantic Ocean. The aquarium is a favored tourist attraction of New Orelans. Image by Del Stone Jr.
I was editing Staff Writer Pam Golden’s account of her trip to the Aquarium of the Americas in New Orleans when I was stung by the idea of getting in the face of a jellyfish.
Let’s do it, I told Connie, and we drove over on a Friday. We stayed smack in the middle of French Quarter, in a place called the Marie Antoinette, and I did not price the house guillotine – traffic was sufficiently dangerous to satisfy any thrill-seeking impulse.
Our friends Charles and Mary took us to a lakeside restaurant where the hired help climbed aboard tables and did the Macarena, spanking their hips amongst platters of stuffed crab, boiled shrimp, fried catfish and steamed oysters – a fine opportunity to gain weight, then lose it.
Next morning we sashayed down the narrow Quarter sidewalks, dodging merchants with hoses, mule-drawn carriages, fellow tourists, and quirkily dressed creatures returning to their lairs for the day.
The aquarium is a large, glass-encased structure on the riverfront. A brick walkway bearing the names of various donors and dedications leads to the ticket booths.
Having purchased our tickets by phone, we went inside, posed for photos beside a shimmering fish-scale sculpture, then began the tour in earnest.
Exhibit 1 is a gargantuan aquarium containing species from the Atlantic. You walk through a tunnel which allows sharks and other predatory denizens to gaze down at you longingly, licking their chops. Perversely, I wondered if these glass walls had ever sprung a leak.
Exhibit 2, my favorite, was a real tropical rain forest, with underwater exhibits of piranha, Oscars, and other South American fishes. You walk amidst dense undergrowth as birds squawk and a waterfall humidifies the steamy atmosphere. Sprays of orchids dangle enticingly from the tree trunks. It’s all very beautiful and, I hope, authentic.
Another fun exhibit is the penguin tank, and we were lucky to be there as the staff was feeding these well-dressed little birds.
Then we tracked along a series of smaller aquariums that led us to a sluice where you could reach in and pet a shark. Hmmm. I watched shark-petters, expecting them to withdraw handless arms but that didn’t happen. A spoiled city shark, no doubt.
The jellyfish exhibit was splendid. The only word I can think of to describe these dainty creatures is: ethereal. I hear they don’t take well to captivity, but these jellies were maneuvering around their tanks like small, translucent angels.
Throughout all this, Connie and I debated how best to take pictures. Having viewed the results, I’d recommend two strategies: If you use a flash, take the photo at an angle to the aquarium glass. Otherwise you’ll get backflash. But the best way – and this is true if you have a Camera for Idiots like I do – is to shut off the flash, shoot with 400 speed film, and stand about 3 feet from the tank. Your photos should be fine.
After the aquarium tour we dropped by the IMAX theater for a cinematic visitation to a coral reef. You IMAX vets know that the screen fills your field of view, making for a spectacular movie-watching experience. But was IMAX with 3-D1
I hope to get over there again soon. The Aquarium was a nice, nonalcohol-related excuse to get out of town and visit The Big Easy.
This column was originally published in the Wednesday, Jan. 1, 1997 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 .
Today being Christmas, I’ll share with you some of my favorite gifts of all time.
The first is an electric blanket given to me by my friends Sandy and Dave Jacobs of Fort Walton Beach. It has warmed me for years to the point it is old and worn out.
I told my friend Ray Aldridge of Fort Walton Beach, who nagged me for years to buy a computer so I cold write a novel, that I first needed to cross off everything on my Need-To-Get List. One of those items was a Stanley hammer. Later, Ray presented me with a Stanley hammer, with a note that said: “I hope this brings you one step closer to the computer.” Next year, I bought the computer. The novel came out a month ago.
Otis Gossman presented me with a bottle of Absolut for Christmas 1983. I was a beer drinker, not a vodka drinker, but to make Otis feel better I tasted the stuff. Lo! It was splendid.
Over the years Mom and Dad have given me any number of great Christmas gifts, but the one I remember best landed on my chest-of-drawers on a July night. I was working the late shift on an assembly line to save money for college. When I got home that night, I flipped on my bedroom light, instantly knew that something was right, and saw it: a new stereo! A Sound Design with a turntable, an AM-FM tuner and an eight-track player. I wore out three needles on that turntable.
My cousin Dot, who died a few years back, had a knack for giving cool Christmas gifts. Once it was a Kodak pocket camera. Then it was U.S. currency proof sets. I still have the photos and the coins.
Jimmy Ready, my uncle, who lives here in Fort Walton Beach, gave me a portable shortwave radio one Christmas. Many were the nights I listened to Radio Moscow, if the ionosphere was right, or Radio Havana. Mostly I kept it tuned to Dutch Van on WNUE, the AM fixture at 1400 on your dial.
When I was in the seventh grade, Mom and Dad gave me a London Fog jacket for Christmas. London Fog was as necessary to my existence as Hang Ten cotton pullovers, which is to say I would not have attended classes at Pryor Junior High School that semester had I not been wearing a London Fog jacket over my Hang Ten shirt. Sadly, the jacket was stolen that spring.
Probably the best gift I ever received was given to me by the good lord on Christmas 1977. I had just graduated from college and I was jobless, with no immediate prospects. I was feeling low.
Mom, Dad and I drove to Columbus, Ohio, to spend Christmas with my sister and brother-in-law. All I remember wanting for Christmas was to feel good about something. I liked snow. Maybe a snowfall would cheer me up.
We were there a week. No snow. On Christmas Eve, a terrible storm swept through. It rained like the dickens, destroying our carefully arranged luminaria. We sat inside, watching the rain beat against the windows.
Christmas morning dawned gray and cold. We opened our gifts. The trip back to Florida loomed. And then it happened.
Big, fat flakes tumbled out of the sky, like parade confetti. This celebration gave way to a driving, no-nonsense snowfall that covered the ground.
Mom and Dad bought me a plane ticket and told me I cold stay another couple of weeks.
A miracle, for Christmas.
This column was originally published in the Northwest Florida Daily News on December 25, 1996, 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 is an image from Pixabay. Creative Commons license.
If God had intended that I fix things, such as wiring, he would have given me frizzy, electricity-blasted hair.
But my hair is straight. It curls a little when I let it grow, which means I have the desire but lack the competence to fix anything that requires more than a clonging with a hammer.
Still, I try. Recently I’ve been on a kick to get some of the jobs done around the house I’ve been putting off for years. I knew it would be trouble if I tried to do this work myself. I knew I would need people with caulk in their veins.
But when the kitchen fluorescent lights went belly up, I was certain I could fix them – all by myself.
Isn’t that how all horror movies begin? With an innocent, well-intended assumption that goes terribly, terribly wrong?
That thought never entered my mind as I flipped the switch and the lights sputtered. It’s just the tubes, I told myself. They’ve burned out. I replaced them at $2.99 plus tax apiece, nearly falling off the cat-shredded chair and performing a nifty mid-air ballet maneuver as one evil tube spring from its socket and headed for the floor.
The lights still didn’t work.
All right, I thought. It must be the switch. I went to the hardware store and bought one of those fancy illuminated switches. No more fumbling in the dark. I congratulated myself. I am uptown.
I know what you’re thinking. But I didn’t forget to shut off the circuit breaker. I removed the old switch, pulling off a chunk of paint-attached Sheetrock with it. The wiring scheme looked simple enough. I rigged up the new switch and mounted it.
The lights STILL didn’t work. That’s when Dad told me about something called a “ballast,” which could burn out and would need replacing by somebody with copper wire in their veins. Fine, I thought. I’ll call the electrician on Monday.
Then I discovered NONE of the other lights in the kitchen would work either. At first, I couldn’t believe it. I kept flipping the switches, hoping I would awaken from what was fast becoming a nightmare. But they remained dark, and I tell you it was an accusing dark. I called Dad. I could sense his shaking his head in dismay. All he said was, “I’ll come over.”
He gazed in bafflement at the circuit breaker box. He tested the old switch. He scratched his head a lot, I thought. This is not good. Upstairs, the smoke alarm began to beep. I thought, Oh my God, this is REALLY not good. I asked, “Could it have anything to do with that switch I put in today?”
Dad looked at it. “What the heck is this?” he blurted, half puzzled, half amazed.
I’d connected what I thought was the ground wire to the ground post. Turns out it wasn’t the ground wire. It was the wire that supplied current to all the other lights.
“You mean that wire’s not supposed to go there?” I asked innocently. “No,” he answered, the implied You knucklehead hanging thickly in the air.
Minutes later, the lights worked, and the smoke alarm had stopped beeping (we’d accidentally shut off its power). But the big lights still wouldn’t work. The copper-veined one would fix that. Dad made me promise. …
Now I’m thinking the place could use a ceiling fan. There’s a place for one in the living room. I think I could put it in. I’ve got a hammer.
The horror. The horror.
This column was published in the Wednesday, December 18, 1996 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 .
Today, Okaloosa County holds the last of its workshops to decide the fate of a 54-acre tract on Okaloosa Island.
The debate has been fractious, with many people and institutions expressing their opinions about how the land should be used. This newspaper has editorialized that it should be developed for a conference center. Others, mostly employees of competing developments, island residents who fear congestion, and recreational interests, have said it should become a park.
I have a third suggestion.
Restore the land to what it was.
Make it a greenway.
A greenway, if you didn’t know, is an island of nature preserved within the urban environment, a slice of trees and wildlife allowed to continue in an undisturbed state as bordering land areas are developed.
Greenways offer many benefits to a community, many of which cannot be measured with a price tag.
The most obvious is that they provide a habitat, or a shelter, for animals and plants that are threatened by development. As people build ever farther into areas previously left to Mother Nature, animals and plants are being squeezed for space. A greenway provides a small haven for at least some of these species.
But the benefits for you and I are greater. A greenway, for instance, offers a small patch of nature into which we may escape at our convenience – or need. As the Emerald Coast grows and the pressures of urban living mount, we will need places like greenways to reconnect our spirit with nature and our peace with ourselves. The “drive in the countryside” may become as close as your nearest greenway.
They also serve as ways to educate children about nature. Children must experience nature firsthand to have a real understanding and appreciation for what they’re being taught. That job cannot be left to television documentaries. Greenways offer safe and accessible environments for this kind of learning.
Greenways also work as natural thermostats, absorbing some f the heat generated by urban life. And in this area they provide a measure of watershed protection, preventing our bays and bayous from becoming unlovely and uninhabitable bodies of sediment and algae.
Apart from all this, an aesthetic issue exists. How can I describe for you the pleasure I felt as I jogged beside Glenwood Park in Cinco Bayou this spring, taking in the delightful scent of flowers, and enjoying the calls of birds or the wind sighing through branches? How many times have I strolled the boardwalk through the park, allowing the cool, dark silence to recompose my wits? Part of the craziness of the world today derives from the unceasing stimulation with which we surround ourselves. A cloud-flecked sky, framed with trees, is the only cure for that malady.
Here, we have a chance to not only stop the damage we’ve inflicted on our lovely coast, but actually reverse that process. I say we clean up that mess over there. Restore it to what it was. Plant scrub pine, beach grass, sea oats. Bring in beach mice. Correct what we have undone.
A greenway may cost us tax revenue, but who can calculate the value such a land tract will bring us in the future? Look at it as a small savings account for our sanity.
See you in the clouds.
The column was originally published in the Northwest Florida Daily News on December 11, 1996 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 .
I had just cracked open a 20-ounce Diet Coke after finishing a steaming-hot Styrofoam cup of coffee when I pulled onto the Interstate 294 toll road in Chicago.
The day was freezing. An icy northwest wind cut across the eight lanes of traffic, buffeting the truck. It seeped inside. I couldn’t get my internal thermostat set; one minute I needed coffee, the next, something cold.
I was only half an hour from my destination, the Hyatt Regency in Lombard, Ill., after having driven that morning from northern Kentucky. I had visions of getting out of these clothes and taking a long, extremely hot shower once I reached the hotel.
The toll was only 40 cents. Fortunately, I had a fistful of change in the console between the two front seats. I hurled a quarter, a dime and a nickel into the basket at the toll booth and raced under the bar as it rose, rolling up the window to shut out the cold.
Traffic was heavy with wall-to-wall trucks, and big cars like Pontiacs, Chevy Impalas, and Lincolns. They were all driving 80 mph. As the lanes went from eight to four, I felt squeezed in.
Then I realized it. That squeezed feeling wasn’t coming from highway claustrophobia.
It was coming from my bladder.
I’d almost stopped before driving into Chicago proper, but by map reckoning the hotel didn’t look far away, so I’d gone on. “You can make it,” I’d told myself. “In half an hour you’ll be there.”
I drove and drove. The pressure increased. I really had to go. I thought back to the moment I’d opened the Diet Coke and wished I’d thrown it back in the cooler. Idiot. And I was getting cold, too. I had the heater on, but I was cold. Maybe it wasn’t the temperature. Maybe I was going into some kind of shock, from renal failure.
I started looking for an exit, a gas station, a blessed bathroom. That’s when I knew I’d died and gone to hell.
There were no exits.
I drove until I swear my ears were leaking, and there were no exits. Chicagoans must have cast-iron bladders, I told myself.
I needed to take the Eisenhower west off the toll road. I got the exit, and what did I see? A traffic jam – endless tanker trucks, panel trucks and salt-eaten Buicks.
“This can’t be right,” I told myself in a urine-induced delirium. “The road is supposed to go north, not west.” I peeled out of line and took the northern spur. It led me right back onto the damned toll road.
“Oh nooo,” I cried mournfully, seeing the endless stretch of crazed drivers and bathroom-less highway before me. “You FOOL! You IDIOT! You TOOK A WRONG TURN! AND NOW YOU MUST DIE!”
I’d begun to hallucinate. I imagined my bladder had taken on a life of its own and was laughing maniacally. It was a terrorist, holding the rest of the body hostage. Unless its demands where met, it would explode.
I went through the tollbooths like a madman, flinging coins at the automated baskets in a fever of pressure-filled desperation.
And then I saw it.
A toll road oasis.
A gas station, a Wendys, and – and – YES! A bathroom!
I won’t tell you what happened next, but that night they reported flooding along the lakefront in downtown Chicago.
I’d say they got their 40 cents’ worth.
This column was originally published in the Wednesday, November 27, 1996 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 .
Pavlov, about to get up to no good. Image by Del Stone Jr.
Today’s cat itinerary:
5 a.m. – Sit outside the big guy’s door and meow frantically, as if to shout, “The house is on fire!” When he’s standing in front of you, wild-eyed and hair sticking out at crazy angles and screaming, “What the matter, kitty?” stare at him blankly. Then walk away.
5:15 a.m. – Go spelunking inside the couch, using the entrance you just created by sharpening your claws.
5:30 a.m. – Make sure all the dirty dishes in the sink are licked clean.
6 a.m. – The big guy just got out of the shower. Lap up all the water in the bottom of the bathtub. Then take a long swig from the toilet.
6:30 a.m. – The big guy just got back from jogging and he’s all sweaty. Leap into his arms and rub all over him, especially if you’re shedding.
7 a.m. – Meow piteously, as if you were starving, as he replaces the dry food in your dish with NEW dry food. Look at it. Walk away.
7:30 a.m. – He’s brushing you. For no reason whatsoever, BITE him.
8 a.m. – He’s leaving for work. Follow him to the door. Gaze up at him with that I-Know-You’re-Leaving-And-I’ll-Be-Here-All-Day-Along-But-I-Guess-It-Beats-The-Kitty-Gas-Chamber-Down-At-PAWS look.
8:01 a.m. – He’s gone, thank God. Thought he’d NEVER leave. Now, down to business.
8:15 a.m. – Traipse across all the cabinets, the kitchen table, the stereo, the TV, and all the other place you’re not allowed to go when the big guy is here.
8:30 a.m. – Sharpen your claws on the BACK of the stereo speaker so the big guy won’t see it until they replace the carpeting.
9 a.m. – Wallow in that basket of fresh laundry, getting cat hair on his dress pants and work shirts.
9:30 a.m. – Take a break.
Noon – Have a brunch of VCR wiring.
1 p.m. – Practice Rappelling down his collection of Polo shirts hanging in the closet.
2 p.m. – Uh oh. It’s hairball time. Find a nice, clean spot on the carpet.
3 p.m. – Climb upside down on the bottom of the box springs, ripping the fabric in the process.
4 p.m. – Find the one breakable item in the house and accidentally knock it off the shelf, breaking it. Hide the pieces under the couch. The big guy will find it next time he moves.
5 p.m. – A door slams. It’s the big guy! He’s home! Hooray!
5:10 p.m. – Saunter downstairs to see what the big guy’s doing. Don’t be TOO friendly – he doesn’t need to think he’s wanted … very much.
6 p.m. – Hey! A strange cat approaches the sliding glass door. Bow up, raise your hackles, spit, hiss, then fight with the interloper through the screen door.
7 p.m. – The big guy is on the phone, which means he’s not lavishing attention on you. Look him squarely in the eye, rake your claws across the couch and run like hell.
8 p.m. – Use the litter box as he’s trying to clean it out.
9 p.m. – He finally sits down. Good. You needed a warm lap to curl up on and sleep. He really is good for something.
About that photo. … Jason’s off the hook. I was within a hairsbreadth of publishing the photo when a rush of nay votes spared Jason the indignity of having his, uh, girlish figure displayed before all. Next time, I’ll ask for our readers’ forgiveness, not their permission. Got it, Jason?
This column was originally published in the November 20, 1996 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 is a stock photo from Flickr user Tambako the Jaguar, but it roughly equates to the cat Mao, who nearly took off my arm as we sat after dinner and chatted in the living room. https://www.flickr.com/photos/tambako/
Got a call from a lady in Navarre who wanted to point out the traffic lights in front of the Target store in Mary Esther are hard to see, and drivers are NOT seeing them, and they’re blowing through red lights at 40, 50 mph, and we can expect carnage, death, etc.
Don’t go cutting down those trees, Mary Esther, but the lights ARE hard to see – I think it’s that funky, hurricane-resistant design. Maybe put up a sign warning drivers that a signal is imminent?
Got a call from the mother of my friend who died of AIDS. Seems his grave has become a target for vandals, who’ve struck twice now. She doesn’t know who’s doing this foul deed, but she wants it to stop.
C’mon, you creeps. Find something better to do with your time, like vandalizing each other.
Speaking of AIDS, OASIS is having another fund-raiser, their Circle of Friends dinner benefit.
The way it works is, an individual hosts a dinner and invites guests who make contributions to OASIS. The dinners can be formal, casual, centered around a theme – anything that gets folks in the mood to give.
For more info, call Melissa Welch at 314-0950, or write to AIDS-OASIS, P.O. Box 35, Fort Walton Beach, FL 32549.
I’m holding in my hands a color photograph of Jason of 98 Rock fame. He’s holding a sign that says, “Braves Beat Those Yankees.” He’s standing by the road outside the station on Hollywood Boulevard, waving to drivers.
He’s wearing a bikini.
Hoo boy. Seems he lost a bet with Anthony, another DJ, over the outcome of the baseball playoffs. A fool and his bathing suit. …
I’m trying to decide if I should publish this photo in next week’s column. If any of you have strong opinions one way or the other, give me a call at the number at the bottom of this column.
This gem moved on the AP: “NEW DELHI, India (AP) – One day after it opened, India’s first McDonald’s restaurant was accused of consuming more than its fair share of electricity. McDonald’s denied the charge Thursday.
“ ‘We have done nothing that is against the law,’ Vikgram Bakshi, managing director of McDonald’s India, told The Associated Press.
“Electricity use is controlled in India to ensure an adequate supply for farmers and public institutions like hospitals.”
You deserve a (circuit) break today. …
If anybody out there has a hankering to buy me a Christmas present, here’s what I want:
Stamps. Specifically, 20-cent stamps.
I love to send postcards – they’re personal yet quick, and the postage is only 20 cents.
It stamps are out, I’ll settle for a three-bedroom, two-bath house in a cul-de-sac. Seriously.
A Brittany by any other name: We recently published a list of the top baby names for boys and girls. I didn’t see my favorites, Annie for girls and Kelly or Todd for boys. I’ll be checking The Public Record for compliance.
I had dinner with a unity (?) of Unitarians the other night, and a delightful unity it was. The hosts were even so kind as to remove Mao the cat, who had nearly gutted me on a previous visit. He left the room yowling, perhaps upset that a second opportunity would be denied him.
Isn’t that sad?
This column was originally published in the Wednesday, November 13, 1996 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 .
If you could be the star of a movie, would you?
Soon, you’ll have that choice because technology is becoming available that will allow you to create the world of your dreams.
Think about it: If you could “the world of your dreams,” what would it be? I world inhabited by people of your own design and desires – people who are exquisitely witty, or sexually dynamic (I’ve sold you already), or heroic, or dark-hearted, or beautiful?
Would your world be inhabited by lions and tigers and bears, oh my? Griffins, unicorns and dragons? Allosaurs, triceratops and raptors? Godzilla, King Kong, Gidra?
Would this world exist on Earth, or Mars, or far Neptune? Would rings traverse the sky, twin suns rise above the horizon, or bright nebulae illuminate the night?
Would this world exist in three dimensions? Would death shadow life? Would gravity keep things nailed down the way it’s supposed to be?
The point of all this is to get you thinking about the options that will be available to you in a few short years, courtesy of the stunning advances being rendered unto the computer industry. These advances will make today’s computers look primitive, as steam engines laboring noisily in a world powered by silent and efficient reactors.
This bewildering leap forward will be facilitated by dramatic improvements in the way information is exchanged – modems, and either coaxial or fiber-optic cables, that will transmit gigabytes of data in the amount of time (or less) that mere kilobytes are transmitted now.
The operating speeds and computational abilities of computers will be tens of thousands of times higher, making real-time video the norm for screen environments.
Advances in software will permit the creation of character-designing programs, plot-designing programs and other programs that address every aspect of storytelling.
Combine these advances with a recent evolution in Net-interfacing techniques, the “agent,” an electronic proxy that goes onto the Net and does what you want it to do, and you acquire all the ingredients for a fantasy world that you may create.
Farfetched? I saw John Wayne selling beer on TV the other day.
And what will you do with this imaginary world? Allow others to enter? Make little stories, like movies, and sell them on the Net? Go looking for other people’s stories to interface? Or will you kept it for yourself, self-consciously hiding the drama of you and John Lennon playing a canticle for Michelangelo on the 100th level of the revised Dante’s Inferno?
Unlike television, radio, books or other media forms, cyberspace will allow you to create these things, and worse (or better, as the Net advocates assert), you will have a measure of control over every process. Therein lies the allure – and it is a powerful allure. Hence the danger.
Think about it: a highly addictive media form where “truth” and “fantasy” mix freely; an unreal world controlled by a few entities chosen by profit.
This is not a development we should embrace. The Net is a fine library, and a handy way to keep in touch. But as it continues to evolve from its current incarnation, it will become a more attractive, more influential, and ultimately, an evil influence on us as a people.
This column was originally published in the Wednesday, November 6, 1996 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 .
Damage in the Fort Walton Beach, Florida area caused by Hurricane Opal, which struck on Oct. 3, 1995. Image by Del Stone Jr.
On Aug. 5, 1995, and again on Oct. 3, 1995, something strange and wonderful happened in Fort Walton Beach.
Hurricanes Erin and Opal had roared through the days before. The town was in a shambles – trees down, boats sunk, houses destroyed.
People were busy restoring order. They helped themselves and they helped each other – but that’s not the strange and wonderful part.
Electrical service was out in most areas, which meant there was no air-conditioning, and no television. People were forced to go outside where – gasp! – they bumped into their neighbors.
Conversations began. Visits commenced. Cookouts ensued. Neighborhoods, in the truest sense of the word, sprang up literally overnight.
But more was happening. Information was exchanged. Values were formed and shared. Communication skills were honed. The compromises and adjustments demanded by coexistence were composed. The bonds of community and commonality were forged – in a single day!
How strange and wonderful. All the qualities that define the experience of communal man were emerging from the gloom of dead air-conditioners and TV sets.
Sadly, this reconnecting with our humanity ended abruptly when electricity was restored and people could go back to their cool, dark, television-illuminated homes.
Such is the power of air conditioning. But the larger draw is television, what family counselor and syndicated columnist John Rosemond calls the biggest threat to family cohesion ever. Rosemond correctly describes the behavior of watching television as a solitary and isolating act that separates people.
And that’s a relatively benign part of the process – what’s worse is this: The act of watching television is passive, an anesthesia for cognition, essentially transforming the brain into Jell-O.
Now, the internet looms as televisions evil progeny, a final desocializing technology that threatens to finish what writer Harlan Ellison’s “glass teat” started, to keep us all separated from any meaningful or realistic interaction with one another.
Never mind the deleterious health effects brought about by sitting on your butt all day, staring at a cathode ray tube. The Mass Mind behind the internet offers something even the fizzy brain candy of television cannot: the illusion of participating in a big, happy family.
Net proponents envision a global web of interconnectedness, where everybody and everything is equal – children, Nobel laureates, serial killers, rock stars – a global family to occupy the quaint global village we will become.
What they don’t mention is the fact that this “global village” isn’t real.
It’s a fantasy, an electronic simulation, a substitute for corporeality where people “interact” through a filter of anonymity, which allows for all manner of strange perceptions and behaviors. Reality is as elastic as your processor and modem will allow.
Is that we are stampeding to achieve? The cultural psychosis of leading pseudo-lives in an ersatz world, where reality unfolds around us, unnoticed and untended?
Next, I’d like to talk about the future of the net, and why YOU should tune out and turn off, right now.
Until the next hurricane. …
The column was published in the Northwest Florida Daily News on October 30, 1996 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 Wikimedia Commons user Rock1997.
In “The Lost World” author Michael Crichton takes us on another hair-raising journey through The Land That Time Forgot Then Suddenly Remembered, a revisiting of “Jurassic Park.”
Almost worth the price of admission by itself, however, is Crichton’s indictment of the internet, which he lambasts as the final nail in the coffin of original thinking,
Crichton postulates the demise of our technical culture through an insidious process of intellectual homogenization cultivated by the ease and ubiquity of the Net. He borrows from genetics and chaos theory to describe a world bereft of the diversity and creativity necessary to give rise to new ideas. What television started, the Net will complete.
Grim stuff. Lucky for us Crichton writes fiction.
Or does he? Will his dystopian view of the future come to pass?
Sadly, the answer is yes. It is already happening. And forget the Arcanum of genetics and chaos theory. Much more accessible analogs exist: simple capitalism, for instance.
Give yourself this test. The next time you travel, stop at a shopping center and take an inventory of the stores. What do you see? The Gap. Payless Shoes. Morrow’s. Baskin-Robbins. Dominoes Pizza. Quincy’s Steakhouse. Levis.
Next, study the architecture of the buildings. Do you notice any particular style? Cape Cod? Plantation? Rust Belt Industrial? Anything at all you might call distinctive?
Listen closely to the voices of the people who are walking by you. Do you hear a preponderance of accents? Dialects? Colloquialisms?
Finally, is there anything about any of this that would give you a clue as to what part of the country you’re in?
Keep in mind you can order a Big Man in Freeport, Fla., or Freeport, the Bahamas. You can buy a pair of Nikes in Rome, Ga., or Rome, Italy. Blue jeans have currency in Moscow, Idaho, and Moscow, Russia.
The process of economic and cultural homogenization, facilitated by capitalism, is much nearer to completion there in the States than elsewhere. But it is happening all over the world, and soon, we will all be the same.
Which is not good.
It is differences that make us strong, our cultural, economic and intellectual diversities that compete and cross-pollinate and inspire and protect. These things need their own space to grow. Without them, the world becomes worse than monotonous. It becomes dangerous and evil, subject to an evolving tyranny of intellect, the same slow tyranny you see taking over the free market right now.
This Hitlerization of thinking is responsible for The Mass Mind, a pastiche of pop culture apocryphal stories, distorted history, and magical thinking. Doesn’t it scare you that people really, really believe in Roswell, New Mexico? Or that your children’s opinions lie in the capable hands of MTV? Wait until cyberspace becomes the dominant media form its practitioners say it will.
Forget this “global exchange of ideas” malarkey. That only describes the initial step in the transaction. Ultimately, the Net will weed out originality by encouraging whatever is popular or acceptable – insipid gruel for a world hungry for solutions.
Next week I’ll write about the antecedent to Crichton’s thesis of Net-leavened creativity: How the Net desocializes human interaction and ultimately cognition itself.
This column was originally published in the Wednesday, Oct. 23, 1996 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 .