My stay-at-home vacations are thing to behold
The view from my upstairs patio overlooking the pool and courtyard of Bienville Square on Hughes Street in Fort Walton Beach. Image courtesy of Del Stone Jr.
This morning I slept in until the late hour of 7:25 a.m. And I didn’t make the bed immediately. My God, what’s happening to me?
This is the day I usually become panic-stricken. It’s the first real day of vacation and I begin to sense the time slipping away. Saturday and Sunday are always the free bonus days where I get to do anything I want, though Friday night is the best. I have a full week of no stress, no obligations and lots of free time ahead. I can finally, completely relax, knowing that if the phone rings it won’t be a calamity that I am responsible for fixing.
I vow each vacation to not waste my time off sitting behind the computer. I promise to GET STUFF DONE, life-changing “stuff,” even if it’s finally ironing all the clothes in the ironing closet. I pursue this with great enthusiasm on Saturday, let up a little on Sunday, then awaken Monday to realize time is slipping away and I’d better get busy. That’s what I did today.
The house reeked of jambalaya. The fridge was packed to the point of nearly exploding with leftovers from yesterday’s Super Bowl extravaganza. But at least the kitchen was clean. In fact, the entire house looked neat and orderly. I was pleased.
So. I got my stuff together for my taxes. I take them to a CPA. In the past my taxes were so complicated I decided it was worth the money to hire somebody to do them. I’d been doing them and getting back $300 or so – the first year I took them to a CPA I got back well over $1,000. It’s been that way ever since, except one year when I made so much money writing I actually had to send the IRS a check. Unfortunately that has never happened again.
My first stop was the tax collector’s office. I had to apply for a rebate on the Pathfinder’s tag. The tax collector’s office is now conveniently hidden in the very back of the new Uptown Station expansion. You enter a foyer; on the left is an office that has not yet been finished. The guts of the thing are hanging out. On the right is the tax collector’s office. You walk into a spacious room and are immediately confronted by an electronic device that wants to know about your “transaction.” You push a button and it spits out a piece of paper with a number on it. Then, you wait until a very pleasant female voice calls out over a P.A. system what you hope will be your number. It reminded me of that Ridley Scott commercial for Apple back in the 1980s. The lady who helped me was pleasant but not overly friendly, which I guess is not a complaint per se. It’s just that every other time I’ve been there the staff was very chatty and personal, which I like. This person had that professional distance I’m not accustomed to encountering at the tax collector’s office. She did, however, get me the form and tell me where to mail it so my mission was a success.
I then dropped off bags of beer bottles, tin cans, plastic bottles, and aluminum at the recycling van. Wasn’t I just there Saturday? Why yes, I was. But over the course of Saturday and Sunday I filled two more bags! So there. And the drunken wasps were nowhere to be found.
As it was just around the corner, I dropped by the used book store to leave a couple of paperbacks and see if they had two books I’m looking for, The Bourne Supremacy and Ben Bova’s Mars Lives. They were closed! Seems like every time I go by there the place is closed. They keep irregular hours and who knows, maybe they close on Mondays. Or maybe the hired help was sick. Don’t know.
So I set out in search of a day-old bakery. There’s one on Green Acres Road but I thought there was one over by Santa Rosa Mall, so I headed off that way. No such luck. One thing I noticed, however, was the emptiness of the mall. At first I thought it was closed. A sad cluster of cars was parked outside the entrance to JC Penney, and another in front of the main entrance. That was it. My God, at that rate the mall won’t be able to stay open. I haven’t been there in years and probably should drop by just to see if they have some interesting new stores.
One other thing I noticed while I was over there is that Mary Esther has a nature trail! I guess it’s been there awhile but I’d never seen it. The place was unusually busy for a workday. I’ll have to drop by with my camera and do a photo gallery.
I visited the Salvation Army’s new digs at Mary Esther Plaza and bought a couple of books, The Flight of the Intruder and another war-themed novel. I’ve been reading lots of those lately and I enjoy them. Paperbacks at S.A. are only 50 cents. The selection is pretty bad but I saw a few goodies on the shelves.
Then it was off to the bakery, where I found a package of hoagie rolls for $1.75 and a loaf of whole-wheat bread for the same price. Why would you buy bread from the supermarket ever again?
I decided to make one more attempt at the used bookstore. Still closed. Arghhh! So I came home, changed clothes and went to Mom’s to work in her yard. I got a swath of leaves raked up and hauled out, and yet again mourned the forlorn “garden” I’ve tried to establish in that weird little space between her carport and house. I’ve tried everything in that spot and NOTHING will grow there, not even cactus. The only thing that ever did well was monkey grass, which I hate. My new attempt includes green and variegated spider plants, which you can literally throw on the ground and they’ll grow. If that fails I might just stick a bunch of artificial plants in that spot and be done with it.
Afterwards I returned home, got cleaned up and sat down to work on my zombie story. Gosh, I hope Steve isn’t reading this because he might be irked to hear I am just now starting the story. Truth is I’ve agonized over this thing. When I first heard of the anthology an idea immediately sprang to mind, but then I began searching for an alternative. Now I’m back to the original idea. I hope it’s trendy enough. I ran into that problem with a story I wrote for Live Without a Net. Turns out all the stories in that book were super-trendy; mine was a dowdy conventional story. I felt like I’d worn blue jeans to the prom. I didn’t want to repeat that mistake but the truth is, I can’t pretend to be something I’m not, in life or writing. So I’ll just do the best story I’m capable of writing and hope it’s good enough to make the cut. I created a Word file and started putting words on “paper” so to speak. The story began to unfold and better, because this is something I struggle with, the tone began to emerge. I like what I’ve done so far and that’s a good sign. It’s interesting – to me, anyway.
Then I settled down to eat dinner and watch that Steven Seagal movie I rented Sunday. Dinner was the vegetable tray we didn’t touch during the Super Bowl. I cooked the broccoli and carrots, and ate the rest of the veggies raw. The movie was predictable. Steven Seagal is a former member of the Russian mafia who now writes novels. His ex-wife and daughter are killed and he must find out who did it. Seagal is barely comprehensible when he speaks English. With an affected Russian accent – and his mumbling – you can’t keep track of anything he’s saying! At one point I fell asleep during the movie and will have to rewatch it.
I went to bed at the insanely early hour of 9:30. Isn’t that crazy? I was tired and immediately crashed asleep. With luck I’ll make good progress on my story Tuesday … and maybe get that ironing done. Won’t THAT be fun!
About the author:
Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”
Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.
As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.
Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .
Image courtesy of Public Doman Pictures. Creative Commons license.
Ah, Halloween. Time to start Christmas shopping – for 2005.
Did I say “Halloween”? Of course I meant “Harvest Festival,” that time of year when Food World swaps out its summer yellow Ho Hos for the harvest gold Ding Dongs.
At Harvest Festival time we Americans kick back with a warm mug of soy cider, plug in the electric Person-O-Lantern and turn on the computer to surf some scarecrow porn!
What I meant to say was “we Americans of American descent.”
In America, we turn on the television to watch some politically sanitized, gender-neutral trendy scary movies! Those old Halloween fright films simply won’t do anymore. Can’t have little Caleb and Madison getting any big ideas from “Friday the 13th Part XXII: Jason Gets a Job at the State Department.” One of the kiddies might grow up to invade Iraq!
Next Halloween, remember this story: ‘Trick-or-Treat’
So tonight, be sure to catch some of the new Harvest Festival classics that are sure to air:
“Soccer Mom Massacre” – Desperate Belinda is mad as hell about driving the van with only one electric sliding side door and she’s not going to take it anymore. When husband Squamous, the dermatologist, bingos home the guys from the Botox Poker Mixer he’d better be careful – Belinda has used REAL milk in the latte!
“Night of the Living Telemarketer” – The telephone is chirping and caller ID doesn’t have a clue who it is. Could it be Aunt Skeezy wanting the bagel warmer to heat up her bunion packs? Or somebody else … peddling ski vacations to Aspen for a time-share tour?
“The Day the Earth Took Vioxx” – Scientists discover the Earth’s spirit, otherwise known as Princess Gaia, is suffering from a malodorous infusion of negative aromatherapy from hog farms and NFL locker rooms, not to mention a bad case of Tectonic Itch. To remedy the problem they inject a healing solution of WD-40 and Vioxx directly into the mantle with catastrophic results, ending in a world class action lawsuit!
“Don’t Answer the Cell Phone” – It began with a wrong number and continued with a series of mysterious text messages. The next thing Abercrombie, Valley High’s cheerleading captain knows, her IM emoticon is spinning out of control and her e-mail queue is overflowing with attached ringtones that promise to foretell the day of death for everyone who calls her.
“Attack of the Killer Arugula Salad” – Janet Hyde-Squab Gorgo is regretting the day she agreed to brunch at Dante’s with her Quilters Against Drivers with Cell Phones group. They swapped out the Spinach with Soy and Faux Gorgonzola salad with the Arugula with Captain Crunch Berries and Strawberry Yoo Hoo kids menu salad and since then she’s been having strange drams about equipping the family Voyager with pneumatic shocks and bouncing through the ’hood, Tupac blasting from the CD player.
This column was originally published in the Saturday, Oct. 28, 2004 (estimated) 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’s topic is so weighty it will tilt the earth on its axis: the evolution of the TV and movie death scene.
In a more innocent time, an actor died with dignity. A gunshot victim, for instance, would clutch his chest as if a microwaved burrito were causing his pacemaker to do the Robot, then fall gracefully to the ground so that the shooter could hover nearby while the shoot-ee revealed the valuable moral lesson imparted to him by the hollow-tipped .38 slug. “You have redeemed me,” the shoot-ee would gasp. “I will never remove the tag from a mattress again – and that’s not just because I’m dying.” Then the shoot-ee would close his eyes as the shooter wiped away a tear and filed a report with the Serta Corporation.
The next step in TV and movie death scene evolution was the open-eye death. The shoot-ee would die and he would stare into infinity, his eyes glazed, the way people look at their telephone bills. The shooter would run his hand over the eyelids to close them, as if he felt watched, and a violin soundtrack would reach a crescendo of screeching as the shooter and the audience simultaneously realized that death can certain put the kibosh on that snorkeling trip to the Caymans.
Then we had the violent death where gunshot victims were knocked backward by the force the bullet’s impact the same way you get knocked backward when you step out of the shower dripping wet and plug in the blow dryer. The problem in the kocking-backward part never seems to synch with the shooting part – the gun fires and a too-late second afterward, the person gets knocked back. It’s like watching a Japanese monster movie dubbed into English.
The next evolution of TV and movie death scenes was epitomized by “Saving Private Ryan,” which I recently watched as a snub to the FCC. That’ll show ’em. In “Saving Private Ryan:” we encounter the gory realistic death scene. Every single way a person can die was used in that movie and they were all very bloody and grotesque, like watching Richard Simmons squeeze himself into a Spandex tutu.
Right now my favorite TV and move death scene occurs in “Dawn of the Dead.” In this scene, the driver of a panel truck is trying to back it up to a loading dock while being attacked by zombies. You gotta figure the driving isn’t going to be by the book (unless it’s New York state’s “Driving Manual for Snowbirds Wintering in Florida book). Indeed, while back up the truck at about 40 mph they run over several zombies who are sprinting toward the truck. I’ve watch that scene many times trying to figure out how they did it. Best I can tell they got several contestants from “Fear Factor” to attempt a truckjacking and we got to watch the losers.
Frankly I don’t want to know how people look or act when they die, unless it’s Sean Hayes’ character on “Will & Grace.” That little creep can even leave his eyes open.
The column was originally published in the December 6, 2003 edition of the Northwest Florida Daily News and is used with permission.
About the author:
Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”
Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.
As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.
Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .
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 .
Image courtesy of Flickr user Lance H. Bates under the auspices of a Creative Commons license. https://www.flickr.com/photos/7977365@N08/5709021472/
A number of people called, e-mailed, faxed, or contacted me via the Intergalactic Council to let me know what a rube I am for suggesting flying saucers are a figment of the collective unconscious.
One person even admonished me to put away my Bible (I nearly choked with laughter over that!) and asserted people like me actually hinder the exploration of space by dissing poor little E.T.
I’m not sure what to think about all this. It’s a comfort knowing that skepticism lives in this day of McDonaldized Mass Mind thinking. But at the same time, how spooky to see that this skepticism is fueled by utter nonsense.
Tell you what: I’ll eat my words if somebody can produce a real, live flying saucer, demonstrably from outer space. Until then, you guys keep shaking your hoodoo sticks and baying at the moon.
I’ll wait for the real scientists to give us our answers.
Look for their names on the silver screen! It was bad enough that I nearly sprained my back and gave myself leg cramps trying to help Harrison Ford crawl back into the airplane in “Air Force One.” But then I had to wait in agony until the end of the credits to see the acknowledgments for Eglin and Hurlburt.
But it was time well spent for about 20 of us who remained in the theater as the movie ended Sunday afternoon. When the names of our local bases rolled across the screen, everybody clapped and cheered.
“Air Force One” is one darned exciting movie – probably the best of the action-movie crop this summer. Check it out – and watch those credits roll.
Let it rain: Saturday’s deluge prompted a very strange reaction among some of us around town.
It was such a thunderous downpour – typical for Florida – that people I talked to didn’t even try to go out and about. They stayed at home and watched NASCAR, the Brickyard 400.
I’m not a big NASCAR fan, but like those other people, I was glued to the TV, rooting for all the old-timers, drivers like Bill Elliot (who is the husband of former Daily News photographer Cindy Poole) and casting hexes on young showoffs like Jeff Gordon.
Next thing you know we’ll be packing up the Winnebago and caravanning to Talladega.
Who won the race?
Somebody named Tide.
This week’s wire weirdness: DAKAR, Senegal (AP) – Vigilante mobs convinced that foreign sorcerers can shrink a man’s genitals with a mere handshake have killed eight people in Senegal in the past week.
Attackers killed five people at Ziguinghor in southern Senegal after a man accused one of them of making his penis shrink, newspapers reported Friday. At least three other people were killed in the West African nation’s capital, Dakar.
Headlines that didn’t work: Miners Refuse to Work after Death.
Strange but true: A man in Johannesburg, South Africa, shot his 49-year-old friend in the face, seriously wounding him, while the two practiced shooting beer cans off each other’s heads.
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 .
My greenlining correspondent, Gayle Melich, sends a copy of a recent Washington Post editorial that provides more fodder for the notion of restricting urban sprawl.
The editorial points out that local and state officials in Maryland are feeling the sting of conflicting interests – “… it’s called sprawl, and it’s killing treasuries, urban areas, forests and farmlands at an alarming pace,” opposed to policies that control “living patterns.”
Reaction was predictably political. “… the governor told a gathering of municipal officials that his intention is not to dictate prescriptions for halting sprawl but to lay some political groundwork for debate, recommendations and action over the coming months.”
What a load.
But the editorial continues along a more heartening path. The governor of Maryland wants money for encouraging development in communities that already exist, which would save those municipalities huge development and upkeep costs for infrastructure.
The editorial ends with this directive: “… the answers should not lie in exhausting the remaining spaces as well as public funds with open invitations to clear and build at will.”
If folks inside the Beltway can understand this common-sense frugality, why can’t the paragons of conservative virtue who rule the roost in Northwest Florida do the same?
Movies, movies, movies! This unwavering summer heat has driven me indoors, where I’ve seen more movies in the past month than I usually see in a year. Here’s my report.
“Independence Day”: A shameless parade of clichés, but who cares? This movie is more fun than cinematic pedantry allows. See the White House get obliterated! Watch Los Angeles disappear in a well-earned lake of fire! There’s much much more! Terror (the laboratory scene is about as spooky as they come); humor (did you catch the homage to “2001: A Space Odyssey?”), and action – on a scale that will even leave Arnold What’s-His-Name out of breath. A “Star Wars” kind of classic.
“Eraser”: Speaking of Arnold What’s-His-Name, here he is with Vanessa Williams, and they’re on the run from … and the bad guys are trying to … and the government wants to … does it really matter? “Eraser” has got bullets and explosions and Arnold. What else does a growing baby need with this formula?
“Phenomenon”: This movie was a test. Could I or could I not stay awake to watch John Travolta mumble and shuffle, like Jimmy Stewart on muscle relaxers, through this stultifying tribute to celluloid boredom? I didn’t fall asleep, but I wish I had.
“The Cable Guy”: I don’t like Jim Carrey. He’s more annoying that funny. But in “The Cable Guy” he has his moments, which I attribute to the streaky genius of the script, not Carrey’s manic comedy. I don’t know what to make of this movie; it was hysterical in parts, dark in others, and largely entertaining.
“The Frighteners”: Creepy special effects and the occasional witty line are no substitute for story, and that’s the big problem with this movie. It gives you no sense of place, no sense of character, no sense of story. It is to movies what malls are to shopping: You see one, you’ve seen ’em all.
This column was originally published in the July 24, 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 .