Some Shots in the Sky

It's only been two weeks and things haven't gotten better. Then again no one really cares.

Some little highlights before I go off...

Thanksgiving went well, I kept myself from overeating. Only had two plates of food and one piece of cherry pie.

Decided to finally bite the bullet and write a query letter to agents in hopes t hat I can sell Daemon and not have it on the lulu.com site as a "vanity" press. I really hate that term. But then again I'm low on toilet paper soon and what best way to repleanish the supply is by a bevy of rejection letters with little or no advice to help you break into a medium that you belong? (This is me trying really hard not to bitch at the world.)

The shopping blitz of the year has started and so far I haven't run into (literally and metaphysically) any stupid humans as of yet. I keep my fingers crossed as sooner or later it'll happen. I try to be easy on the rest of you all, truly I do, but sometimes you all need a mental adjustment, including the youth of America, and this goes dubly for the educators.

Now being a son of two educators myself, one with a Masters in secondary education and the other with a Specialist degree in media education I may have some weight in what I say. Sooner or later the children will not be taught to write by hand. Hell, they hardly write cursive anymore. My son told me that teachers in elementary school, when he was there, took a months time teaching the students cursive, but nowadays, they only do three days to a week. If you don't get it you're S.O.L. Now they don't even want students to write things, just type them up onto the computer. (Shaking head.)

Things go boom, there'll be a lot of things that'll be S.O.L.

And me, with only a Bachelor's in English, has done nothing for me whatsoever. Now I put my latest book on the fire in hopes that someone gives me glory. My last novel, Shifter, I got one "maybe" and that turned into a no. WTF? Am I supposed to be the master editor here? Sorry, too many stories in my head to make sense about flow and feel. Still, they're better than Twilight.

H.R. Green, 28th of Novemeber, 2009, 9:32 p.m. Burtchville, MI

And the Holidays Begin...

Now I face a dreaded day tomorrow, trying to trim my stomach down, knowing that I have tons of food staring me in the face. Mounds upon mounds of cholesterol ready, willing, and able to clog my arteries and send me down the doomed path of possible coronary. This is the year that I have to look at all that good food and just say no. I'm sitting at 260 pounds of yuck and that's too much for me, so I've decided to finally stop the gorging, make myself active again in the goal to make my stomach flat by my next birthday in hopes that I can make taken women jealous. God forbid if my vain ass likes what it sees in the mirror by then.

Thanksgiving for me has always been too much food and really bad football. I know this year is going to be no exception. It will be hard for me to stay awake again, this time in a strange person's house and instructed that I cannot fall asleep, so napping before I go is essential.

So I could question how we got here, but we all know why. Americans love excess; we love to overindulge ourselves with anything, usually food, making us the most overweight in the world (Okay, honest opinion, I ain't working with facts here.). But I'm about done with this.

So anyone out there, who even catches this blog, in what way can I change the diet dramatically and not eat bland crap. The stuff must taste good! Please, only decent answers and not smartassed ones.

Oh, and Black Friday, get your steel toe boots on and expect to do some serious ass kicking in the mall and shopping center, or lifestyle center, as they call it now. Umbrellas might help to double as a spear so you can be successful in your shopping conquest. Go to sleep right after eating the turkey and wake up early so that you have optimum energy for the holiday season, otherwise there'll be plenty of shit that'll bring you down, like annoying kids and the other people who stand in the way. Otherwise, the holidays are a happy occasion!

Other than that, y'all have a good Turkey Day and don't do what I wouldn't do, which is very little.

H.R. Green, 25th of November, 2009, 2:35 p.m. Burtchville, MI.

A Long and Festering Legacy

I tend to be a sports nut, so much so that I actually make it a point not to watch the game, rather just see the end result so I can avoid a heart attack. This past decade has given me many things to cheer about but a lot more for me to cringe. (I'm from Michigan, take your pick on this one) Today, my hapless Lions pulled a victory out of their ass, with rookie Matt Stafford having a game for a Lions' quarterback that hasn't happened in quite sometime. Over four hundred yards passing and 5 touchdown passes. Granted he had 3 interceptions as well, but knowing the rest of the Lions players on the field and how much of a team they are not, Matt should be given a fucking medal. Still this isn't about Stafford, oh no, this blog item is more about their schmuck of an owner, William Clay Ford.


From what I'm guessing, this is Billy's 46th year of ownership with the Lions so I wish to share to you his legacy as an NFL owner for the past 45 years this team has been under his command. This doesn't count the current record the Lions hold, which is still abyssmal!


Regular seasons, 698 games played, a record of 286-398-14. That's a winning percentage of .409. My math may be a little off with the ties in that record, but still, not even close to getting him in that winning percentage. This is from a fucking 45 year period!


Playoff record, 10 games played, a record of 1-9 giving them a winning percentage of .100! I can bet I would have a better batting average than that at my age and dilapidated physical fitness state.


Worse than that, Billy boy has gone through 15 different head coaches. That's a new head coach every 2.8 years! The only reason why Bill Ford is there is because he's the owner and the only reason why he still makes money with this team is because he doesn't reward players well; he doesn't open that pocketbook properly. Yeah, throw tons of money to a rookie quarterback or one of the best running backs in the game but don't bother to build a respectable team around him. This old man will never learn and he will never leave as long as he can breathe. He has never known how to run an NFL team and he never will and what's really bad is the old fucktard really doesn't care. I wish Lions' fans could get the point so nobody would show up for games. See how long Ford lasts then.


Does it mean the Lions may leave? Yes, that's exactly what it means, but I'd rather have the Lions move to another city and be successful under an owner who wants to win football games and championships then to be forced to have one of the most pathetic franchises the NFL and sports world has ever known near my house. In my lifetime, I have witnessed the Tigers, Pistons, and Red Wings reach their goal of a championship. Even the short lived USFL and Arena Football gave me reasons to cheer (Michgian Panthers, Detroit Drive). In college, I also was given the rare treat for the Michigan Wolverines basketball and football teams to capture the NCAA Championship (The Cornholers didn't deserve the co-championship.). You'd think the Lions ownership would be feeling the heat and finally get around to building something worth cheering. Well I'm done with the wait and see attitude and I'm sick with their status quo mentality. It's time to fucking shit or get off the pot. If you don't want to do either, give the team to someone who not only wants to win, but knows how to win.


Do I detect a card from Illitch with his phone number on it? Red Wings and Tigers, that's all I have to say.


H.R. Green, 22nd of November, 2009, 8:07 pm Burtchville, MI

Spinnin' the Turntable

So I was trying to write this particular blog yesterday until I saw the shennanigans about tipping, so I went off on a rant. Today, it's back to boring basics because I wanted to talk about my favorite albums. I guarentee it'll be quick because I don't tend to get long winded about what I like. They are what they are and that's it. This includes the music I listen to and the few I keep in high regard. Also, there are a few bands who has multiple albums I like as I explain down in the list. Also this is not meant to be a definitive end all be all list of albums, these are just my personal choices of favorites. They definitely reflect the time that I was raised and influenced, but also, I hope the show a little diversity. I know they don't show much, just a little. Remember, at times I still feel like I'm that short and stout white kid from Michigan because a lot of times I am. Also I do not include greatest hits albums because they would normally win when you're talking about having a lot of cool songs on one CD. No, they have to be albums that can stand on their own and don't really need the strength of a hit single.

These albums are not really in any order either, they just are, period.

Since I am, usually, a fat boy with a big voice, I should start with someone most would think I was seperated from birth, if it wasn't the fact he was much older than I. Much of the older music, and I speak of seventies, sixties and fifties as older, that I heard and was influenced, came from album rock stations. The main one I listened to, and still do from time to time, is WRIF in Detroit. It was this station who was responsible in opening my ears to these veteran rockers, such as Meat Loaf, to the right there, and Bat out of Hell. Being a disciple of RHPS doesn't help either as it showed me that I didn't need to be a skinny pretty boy to sing rock music especially when I found out I too had the range for the title track and "Two Out of Three Ain't Bad." Every song on this album rocks and every one of them can also bring a tear to your eye. Jim Stienman was the perfect writer, Meat was the perfect voice.

Next is one of my favorite, of not my most favorite, bands of all time, Queen. The hard thing about Queen is choosing an album that stands from all the rest. Even Hot Space has it's own brilliance, even though you have to really look for it. Again, these guys have, like, several versions of Greatest Hits albums which tend to detract from their studio work. But, from the daringness of their first album, their desperation from Queen II, finding their musical voice in Sheer Heart Attack, even their pop metal boldness with News of the World and Jazz, I keep coming back to two of them. One is A Day at the Races, but even more astonding to me is A Night at the Opera, and not just because "Bohemian Rhapsody" is on it and my most favorite song of all time, hands down. It has "Love of My Life," one of the few Freddie Mercury vocals I can keep in my range, "You're My Best Friend," a ballad that just comes out of left field for the listener, "I'm in Love With My Car," a song you really have to be careful with while you're driving, and the dirty sounding, depressing laiden "The Prophet's Song." Along with all the different quirky instruments the band put into this album it's always remained tops with me.

Now, when talking about different, this band should always come to mind. As the eighties progressed, so did I, comes with struggling to grow up, I opened up to more alternative music by accident, and They Might Be Giants were at the front of the line. Say what you might about this band, their album Flood fucking rules. Yeah, yeah, "Istandul, Not Constantanople" is what most people remember (Thanx for MTV playing the living shit out of it), others, because they like "Tiny Toons" may also get "Particle Man." There are other songs like "Birdhouse in Your Soul," "Minimun Wage," and "Whistling in the Dark," which I sing time to time to this day. This is an album that the songs will grab onto your head and play over and over again; but in a good way.

Speaking of the eighties, you cannot think of that decade without seeing the hair bands, and there were a lot of them, some good, some not so good, and some really sucked. I would be lying if I said that I didn't get caught up in that shit, I still had long hair up to the turn of the century and I wrote lyrics for glam rock tunes back then. Nowadays I call it poetry. (Meh) Anyway, my biggest influence there was the band Def Leppard, and specifically, Hysteria. Every song on this album rocked, every song on this album had the potential to be a hit single, though I still have no idea why they decided "Women" should be the first one, but, oh well, they still recovered. Six other songs were released in the States as singles, all of them cracked the top 20, four of them cracked the top ten, one going to number three, on going to number two and one hitting number one, the ballad "Love Bites" of course, even though I thought "Pour Some Sugar On Me" should have hit the top spot too. You can't avoid the numbers for the time, no could you really avoid how the songs rocked; even "Women." They also had fun remixing songs (I did find a few back in the day.), released some live tracks and even had a roadie do one song which I do at karaoke every once in a while in the style of Stumpus Maximus. The singles B-sides, just as hard to acquire because at first they didn't release cassette singles, just 45's. Still, to this day, one of the best unreleased songs out there, I think, is "Run Riot." If you haven't gotten this album yet, you should.

I'll admit, Flood is the only album that was released past the eighties, most of what I have right here are either seventies or eighties as that decade is where my primary influence of what I write about is derived. When it comes to music changing perspective, I'll throw Metallica right into the discussion. Well before you heard the Metallica of now, back then, the Metallica I remember was one who created albums of groid kicked, ear bleeding metal and no music vides, just concert after concert. The epitome of this early time is Master of Puppets. To this date I believe is their best work ever. I still have the 33 it was pressed on and finally got the title track onto my MP3 player. Yeah, my kids can deal when I fucking play it loud in my car!

The next four fall back to the concept album. It's a format I really love because it's like reading a book with music, except the story goes faster because you're listening to it. The first one is probably the oddest, weirdest one of the batch, but it is also one that combines music loosely around the concept of science fiction, something else that interests me greatly, and probably takes a side route through an acid trip. Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars is probably the best conceptual work that David Bowie has ever done but the lyrics are so ambiguous that you need to listen to it over and over again to try to grasp onto the albums meaning...but you can't. Hence the beauty of this album, you'll never know what you'll get from this album be it when you are sober, drunk, stoned, high, or all three of the latter. The title track, be it a musical epilogue, is still a little haunting to me, and sad.

Next album may have not been the first concept album, but it is responsible for lighting the wick that spawned others, including by this same band who made this one, The Who, and their rock opera Tommy. Now being a child of the eighties I was more visual that those seventies counterparts. Television cable was really coming into it's own to mush our minds out with silly garbage and HBO was really popular so you got to see movies that you wouldn't normally see in the theaters. My first exposure to Tommy was the movie version, sadly. To admit, the album is much more personal and more inspiring than the movie from the seventies, though it's not really an opera, more an oratorio, but I digress. It's my most favorite album from The Who and belongs as one of my ten most favorite of all time just as much as there are times that "Pinball Wizard" just cannot escape my mind.

Speaking about concepts and concept albums, I cannot leave out Pink Floyd; and I'm talking Pink Floyd with Roger Waters. If there is a band who I can listen to and feel strange without a controlled substance, Pink Floyd is that band. They are also another band who, throught the magic of televison's HBO, I got my first glimpse of with The Wall. ::Shivers:: That is what I knew of Pink Floyd until I finally put Dark Side of the Moon on the turntable and all of the sudden The Wall really didn't cut it for my anymore. I cannot and will not listen to only part of this album, I MUST listen to the ENTIRE thing, and that's not because of Dark Side of the Rainbow. Meh! It's just because that album stands on it's own with all the songs connected. Whether they were meant to be together or not, somehow that is the way it is, and even when they released "Money" as a single, it really detracts from the album. People who are close to me know well, when I put the album on it will be a while until it's done.

Now this one came to me at a very odd time. I found this band inadvertantly when I was going to Graceland College and a friend of mine in the dorm I stayed couldn't stop praising them so I decided to borrow one of their albums. Granted the style to me was overmelodic and odd at the time and their singer tended to whine a little with the lyrics the songs were nonetheless, intriguing. When I went home on a short break I went to the record store and picked up the three CD's that were before the album I listened. The one that still stands out with me, as it did back then, was Misplaced Childhood, the band was Marillion. This band has never had the success in the states that they had in England but their music is very good and to me, like the previous album, Misplaced Childhood feels like a concept album to me. and "Kayleigh," their only hit in the states that ever charted, is not my most favorite of the album, neither is "Lavender." "Heart of Lothian" is what strikes a chord with me. A very underrated album that I would suggest any music conniseur should have.

And finally, and I know y'all will snicker at me, the last album on my list. As I have stated throughout this blog, I'm a child of the eighties, and around the time where I was starting to become very impressonable, this album was the shit, hands down. Michael Jackson's Thriller. Yes, I know he got really strange in his later years, but this album is what put him over the top into legendary status and the ridicule that comes with it. You cannot deny the songs that altered the momentum of music, including "Beat It," "Billie Jean," and "Thriller" itself. And at the time, the video for "Thriller" was off the charts. I still play that song as loud as I fucking can during Halloween, at least once, as to tradition. And with Vincent Price's voice laid in with it, the creepiness factor should be at an eleven, because it was back then. It's also the album responsible for keeping Def Leppard's Pyromania from being number one and became the best selling album of all time, beating out Pink Floyd's The Wall from merely a few years before.

Well that's it; my thoughts and feelings about popular music. I'm sure there are other albums worthy of choosing but these are the ones who have staked a claim on my soul to be remembered as "definitive." I've sure I'll see the "you're wrong" comments, but maybe I am. This is a blog of my opinions after all.

H.R. Green, 20th of November, 2009, 3:27 p.m., Burtchville, MI

My Two Cents

Ah yes, this type of thing tend to have it's own quirkly little battles everyonceinawhile. To the right is a picture of a college couple, Leslie Pope and John Wagner, who refused to pay a tip for bad service at the Lehigh Pub in Bethlehem, PA. Their reward is being put into handcuffs and sent to jail for theft. What a lovely bunch of human beings at the Lehigh Pub they are, but as I thought about it, the college couple was wrong as well, but not in a way most might think I explain about it.



I have always had a system with gratuity when it comes to the food service industry. It used to be I started with a 15 percent gratuity and went up and down depending on service. Usually the server's tip stayed at the 15 percent line because it was the service to be expected and nothing above and beyond what they were supposed to do. But there were times that gratuity fell below the average 15 percent. Around Y2K I decided to up the average to 20 percent as I felt that's what the economy at the time called for, and it seemed others were doing the same, however, I have gone to restaurants where they imposed this 18 percent gratuity on their bill. It didn't matter what you were going to do, that tip was already on the bill. I was upset with this fact, for one, we should not be imposed with a tip we MUST pay, and two, it was idignant to the servers. At the restaurant in question, I always asked them not to put it onto our bill so that they could get a bigger tip. If we had to pay a mandatory tip, that's where it was going to stay. Apparently in some restaurants it's policy to do that. At that particular restaurant it is unfair to their waiters and waitresses because they worked their ass off and deserved more than a standard 18 percent. But since the madatory gratuity is imposed, that's what we pay; period.

Which brings me back to our college couple. The big mistake they did was tell the bartender that they were not going to pay their gratuity at all. They should have been more discreet about it; here's how.

When bad service happens, I use my own personal trickle down effect. Granted I have to admit, this also accounts to my current mood at the time, and yes, I am a guy so a pretty girl immediately lightens my mood greatly. But when I start noticing trouble, it drops to fifteen and may stay there. When ignorance sets in it tends to fall to ten percent. This stems to waiting for an irregular about of time for our order, or drinks and silverware, or they are obviously tending to the more local crowd. That's all in good, but you are representing your establishment and if you want the visiting patron to talk well about your place we shouldn't be treated any differently. After ten, it fall by two, such as eight, six and four. By this point I am usually about to blow a gasget or have a fucking cow but I still tend to keep my comments to myself. If I really have to get the attention to the manager or someone else. After four percent it usually would go down by ones, but this is more a judgment call at this point. The key to letting a server know they were useless matter of DNA is not to stiff them on the tip, which is the mistake our couple made. Not only did they stiff on the tip, they told the bartender; no, no, no. You leave a tip like one or two pennies and if you really feel upset you hide them. Me, I would prominently leave my penny in plain sight and leave a comment with the manager in charge, anonymously of course. Don't ever let them know you are not going to leave a tip, epecially if you are not done eating yet.

Since my ire is up about this, I shall tell you all a story about a stupid waitress. This is one that stay well into my mind, and for you Cammies out there, this happened at ICC y2k in Cleveland. To this day I will NOT eat in that hotel's restaurant.

My girlfriend (who now is my wife) and I sat down to have a much deserving lunch on that Friday to sort of relax and not have something that was fast food and with the server everything went well. She was cordial and quick, making sure everything was in order and that we were satisfied. I know, this isn't starting like a story from hell, but wait for it. After being there for roughly 45 minutes my GF had to leave for a coordinator's meeting that she was almost late in being there. Since I had a storyteller's meeting, but it wasn't for another hour, I stayed back and waiting for the bill to arrive. She left and I sat there and waited...and waited...and waited. Thirty minutes gone by and no bill and by this time my pop was saturated by the melting ice so now it's watered down Coke. Thirty more minutes and I would be late for my own meeting. The restaurant was not really busy and there were plenty of servers to keep up with the flow. I waved down my server after the third attempt to request my bill as she told me it will be a couple more minutes while she serves other guests. She wasn't busy and I was sitting there for over thirty minutes. Around forty minutes I talked to the hostess about the same problem as well as other waitresses as they told me that I must wait until my server brings me the bill. By this time I had stated that they were making me late for a meeting and that I must recieve my bill now to pay them because I had to leave at that moment. Ten minutes later I finally recieved the bill and not even an apology or a fuck you from this broad.

Here reward for her behavior? One penny! My wife would put down two pennies because the service would not have been worth two cents of her time. It was something she learned from her father.

Yes there are other factors I put into my determination, such as how busy the restaurant is and how well staffed it is, I'm not ignorant in that. There are also times that servers forget, they are human after all, not machines, liken to a fast food joint forgetting how to prepare your meal or putting certain items into your bag. They can only do so much, the consumer has to be attentive as well.

So I guess a new lesson is that, even though you paid for your food, if you don't pay the 18 percent gratuity at the Lehigh Pub in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania you'll be hauled away by the police for theft. Lesson to patrons; don't give your business to the Lehigh Pub ever again. There is no level of apology to fix that action shown to the public.

H.R. Green, 19th of November, 2009, 6:19 p.m. Burtchville, MI

That Spongy Stuff That Can't Hurt You

Last I checked we don't live in a world of Nerf, so why do we constantly try to make this planet as a land of it for our children before they become adults? Isn't that misleading? Why do we hurry in a furvor to make the world safe for our child up to eighteen and then just set them loose on the world without the proper knowledge that shit happens and doodoo often occurs? Okay, maybe I'm being a bit overdramatic but it seems that's how people are trying to be with their kids so, possibly, they, themselves can have less parental responsibilites; kinda like driving a "safe car" excuses them the responsibility to learn how to fucking drive it.

Same thing goes for my government. You all know the government; that public body of people that make up represenatives that WE voted for to represent US in the county, state, and nation, which, in retrospect, reads on paper that THEY work for US! Instead, they tell us what we are going to do. Yeah, this rant has gone over and over again, including bitching about taxes on stuff we enjoy, like a pleasure tax, on pop and tobacco and alcohol, now they are making pleasure products safe for kids, like these new fucking fire safe cigarettes. You know I understand that the human race is traditionally lazy by now and for a quick example just go into a brand new public rest room. You will notice just about all the toilets, sinks, and hand dryers are automatic (or what I like to call psycho toilets) so that we don't have the responsiblity to operate them mainly because (especially with the toilets) we don't clean our area at all; like flushing. Apparently we would rather start writing diatribes on the stall doors and walls. Now cigarettes do not burn constantly and loose their flavor and even though this is not an immediate problem with me, it is a tobacco product and I fear the rest are going to go through the same bullshit.

Quit making our children stupid and soft!

Same way with teaching. When I was in school, not only was I discouraged in using the calculator, you received punishment for it. We were also encouraged to write in cursive. Now? They rather you use a calculator and not only do they not teach children to write in cursive, they'd rather teach the kids to type on a computer, not even write things in print. Well lets just become completely dependent on electronic toys, really good idea you fracking educators.

I'll have to admit, so the video game systems do the same thing to them; and to be honest, me.

So before you all go and start making the world child proof start taking responsiblities for yourselves and your own and quit asking the government to do it for you! They definitely will not make the right decisions.

H.R. Green, 16th of November, 2009, 4:51 p.m. Burtchville, MI

Being Alone, Sometimes, Isn't Smart

And another example of being left alone with my thoughts is the following example:

No More

I knew this night would come but I had no idea it would be so fast.

Where my heart would fall into the pit of my stomach.

For the moment I have no hope and I don’t want my emotion.

I didn’t want it to happen, but I knew it was coming.

And I knew I couldn’t stop it, but if I did stop it I would be wrong.

If this is right, why do I feel so empty inside?

A piece of my heart died today and I cannot get it back.

Gone with the hope of a person I thought I knew.

I understood what was at stake and I still let it happen.

Powerless of the outcome I could only stand idly by and suffer.

A piece of my heart died today and it will be felt for a long time.

Coming to me, a long time of hurt and agony that I should, but can’t ignore.

I hate being helpless, I hate being felt tossed aside, I hate this sickness.

It keeps happening to me no matter how hard I keep it inside.

My life always has a person who enters it and reopens that wound.

Things are too perfect, and usually that’s true.

From the very beginning I never had a chance, so why do I allow myself to try?

I look into their eyes and die, not knowing why, why I should still care?

A piece of my heart died tonight and it’s not coming back.

It flew away from me in the heat of pain and regret.

There’s only one way it can come back but this hope is a mere glimmer.

For sometimes I feel even our friendship just gets dimmer.

A piece of my heart died tonight, given away freely by infatuation.

Forcing my emotions to be more lost than ever before.

Why must I do the good thing, the decent thing right now?

The man thing to do is to let that go, but why, for once why can’t I just take?

For once it should work and win, for once it shouldn’t matter to anyone.

Because for once it should be the same, for once I should be right.

And the fact only one thing should really be keeping me back from whom I want.

It’s the timing, that’s all; the timing is all wrong so I have to let it go.

A piece of my heart died tonight; died while given to someone.

Someone who I have found fascinating and wonderful and great to be around.

But no matter how much there was in common and how much the same person we were.

I know deep down no good could ever come of it.

A piece of my heart died tonight in the arms of one I care about.

But, no matter how much emotion I could give to them, in the end there must be no more.

A piece of my heart has died; if it happens again I fear there will be no more.

Yeah, just down in the dumps sad, but that's where I am right now.

H.R. Green, 14th of November, 2009, 2:34 p.m. Burtchville, MI

B.A. (Bloodsuckers Annonymous)

Good evening, I hope everyone is well who receives this missive.


My name is unimportant as to what I wish to speak about tonight and quite frankly I really don't care as this is more a letter of enlightenment or warning. You see there are parts of what you all call entertainment in these modern nights that concern me. What I have found in the past is what you see on your medium desensitizes that masses and fills their brain with false feelings, such as a morbid type of hope. I wish to quash these feelings, not because I want to, and believe me this stuff has helped me yet hurt me greatly, no, because I deem it necessary. I am speaking, of course, on the legendary creatrue; the vampyre.

Now to those who know folklore well, vampyres are beings that are not to be trifled with and not to be lampooned. They were and are created to be predators of the night; they are the boogymen that keep you asleep at night and the monsters who prey on the innocent.

With that being said, let me tell you what they are not. Thanks to entertainment, and you all call it that, being in your mainstream like the Twilight movies and the "True Blood" and "Vampire Diaries" television shows, apparently you all think these creatures can be turned into the male model, Fabio. Plus they don't turn into Angel either...they don't have souls, period! If they show that they care it's because there's something in it for them, like a mobster, only one that cannot easily be killed. Vampyres do not look like Robert Pattinson so get over it. They may have possible better personalities than that actor, but, they are personalities that will kill you.

They also don't decide that one night they'll try to be more human. It is not in their D.N.A. So when you come across one, if you know it's one, don't draw attention to it because it's not a stuffed teddy bear. Hell, I've seen a commercial lately about a couple, the man being a vampyre and the woman his mortal plaything. Something makes me think that some entertainment executives are either vampyres or are controlled by them. Either way, it isn't alright to be messing with them.

They are the boogymen, the monsters; they are not nice and they will kill you and they most definately can act better than Robert Pattinson.

With regards,

Vlad.

Yeah, decided to have a little fun with this rant, making it a fictional letter to the masses by a real vampire, but still, I hate Twilight, "True Blood" and "Vampire Diaries," even as much as the touchy feely loving vampire that's en vogue. Kinda makes me wish that vampires did exist to teach these teeny bopper girls a lesson from their ignoramous chick lit. But then again, that's being really mean.

H.R. Green, 12th of November, 2009, 10:04 p.m. Burtchville, MI

Muses Hate Me

This post is a revised version from an introduction I did in one of my books. Because it was an intro from a special edition I did I'm going to start paraphrasing because the beginning is written to state that it was in fact a special edition and that I did some, maybe wonderful and maybe God awful stupid things with said book, I mainly wanted to talk about one thing, as I am going to do here; my muses. But to be more basic, the fact my muses tend, in the end, to hate me as I fall for them. I put poetry in the book, which usually is a bad idea, each piece inspired by a muse. My books as well has had some influence by some woman in my life, normally a woman who probably did not part from me on good terms.

Now it doesn't take a brain surgeon many people of the craft of writing or painting or sculpting or related art forms tend to have their muse for the piece they are working on and lots of times it is more than just a friend interest. That's how a lot of my poetry and song lyrics manifested and even some characters in my stories, they were heavily influenced by real life people, especially muses. I have a huge exception as the title suggests, my muses hate me.

Well, not just hate me, they have come to loathe me and avoid me like the plague. but guys, don't feel bad at all for me, after a decade of this crap you come to expect it from the female race and kind of get used to it; even get pleasantly surprised when one decides to hang around for a while. Plus, I do have this hang up about writing poetry. Even though it is a vital mechanic throughout literary history and a simple basis to create one's voice into the literary world, a lot of poetry I see and read, including my own, tend to be a lot of words put together in hopes that it might mean something to several readers. Think about it this way, I didn't put song lyrics into that special edition in fear that the pages might ooze with maple syrip from the sappy language that sit on the paper.

LeSigh, I still digress, my muses still hate me and they still haunt me.

H.R. Green, 10th of November, 2009, 8:55 p.m. Burtchville, MI

Enter: Marillion

This small short story is about a character in my current book Daemon, a werewolf by the name of Marillion. He's another character with many names but that is one he likes the most. The following is a story written seven years ago as a prelude to the Daemon novels. Okay, so I should call it one of the Daemon stories, just like "Daemon & Rowanne." There are a few others in existence but I decided on this one to get the fictional ball rolling with this blog...

H.R. Green, 9th of November, 2009, 5:24 p.m. Burtchville, MI

No ruling potential they said.

No strange presence?

No presence of mind?

Oh, how they were wrong about me...over one millennia ago.

***

I have gone by many names; Marcus, Matthew, Jerhal, Mikahl, and so forth. And I have been given very vile names such as Lecher of the Beasts and he who has the sense of humor of the grotesque. Those who have named me that are no longer with us are they? But I still am. Watching you all, and doing all that you will not know or hear about. I am the animal you always hear about but never see one of the original beasts; a lycanthrope, a werewolf, and, fortunately, I can control my disease! I am one of few.

Like all the rest of you my former self came into this world through the female species, as a normal human. My other birth, the one that gave me the powers of a god, I lived fifteen years to the day as a mortal until one day of hunting I was knocked out and awaken to a nightmare of pain and ecstasy and overwhelming confusion. Running around in a scared panic, looking for my tribe. Finally finding them after two days of delusions, I noticed changes in myself. I have become stronger; I have become faster. Every bit of blood tastes better, and every bit of pain feels better. I now scream for cause. I now howl for satisfaction. They soon found out what I became, and feared me. To the point, I have become more, but I did not know it at first. I dealt with lycanthropy as a disease. Something that was disgusted by all people and one I had to get rid of. Some tried to help me, most threw me aside. Until, what I call the freak brigade, decided all freaks of nature should be put to death to take them out of their misery. They found me, and decided I was one to be made an example of. But, I did not want to die. I HAD THE WILL TO LIVE! And I was not going to let a bunch of pathetic little yes men sent by the king to make that decision. The first time in my life, and I did not know then, but I know now why I suddenly thought this way. I was finally getting all of my reconnaissance back, and know whom I really was.

The brigade decided for the “mercy kill” at nightfall, so the creatures of the night could take the curse that was bestowed upon the [accused] to keep it with them. How wrong they were to find out about me.

There was a much motley amount together. What was called freaks then would be appalled by the likes of people like you. There were retards of all nature, including what you call Down syndrome and autistics. All who I could tell had their own personality should have had their own life, but they were hanged. Then they brought the psychos, the crazy people. The ones who talk to themselves, the ones who scream every time someone touches them, the ones addicted to various uncivilized drugs, the people who think they are what they are not, the accused witches and warlocks, and then there was me. I guess the bible huggers thought I might do something to disrupt the happenings. Fuck! The real reason was I was the main attraction. My first lesson in politics, and already I thought it sucked.

“We are here to pass judgment to one man,” the auditor looked over to me in much distain, “who calls himself Marcus on having the devil in him...”

“You never had a trial against me!”

“You bite your tongue, boy! You need not have a trial for you have the devil in you. We have to get rid of it!”

“What gives you the right?”

“We have all the right,” The preacher gets into my face. Man, how I did want to spit a nasty bloody loogie right up his protruding obnoxious nose. It is such a huge shaft that a mason brick could easily fit and the man could still breathe. “We are men of God.” He finishes his statement. So high in his fucking self I wanted to vomit on his neatly shined boots. So I did. It was not hard.

“It is just that attitude that I will enjoy your execution. You gotten too cocky ever since you were told you were to be put to death as a sacrifice to the demons of the land.” The preacher coldly whispers in my ear. “What makes you think that anything but death will happen?”

“What makes you think that I want anything BUT death, laddie?”

The man could not say anything, but scowled at me anyway knowing that I was sane enough to live and not die. Yet, so sane that I would kill when I want and how I want. I knew this too.

“Put the noose on the beast and wait for my signal.”

“Noose?” I thought to myself, “This will not hold me. It held most, but not me.”

“Let it be written, on the year of our Lord, 927 A.D. in the land of the Saxons, that we pronounce the execution and the exorcism of the man who calls himself Marcus. I pronounce you dead.” The preacher brings his arm down to start my hanging. Suddenly I feel great pain directly to my neck has the burning rope starts burning a small inferno into my neck. I twist my head back and forth as the pain intensifies and turns rougher and rougher and the sweeter when I finally blackout to only see my memories, or lack of them. I went back. Back to when I was in the forest when I first started my hellish ride. Now I am conscience to witness what happened to me on that night. But, I was not prepared to know what really happened to me. When I woke up after that night I had a huge headache and a throbbing, nagging pain in my left arm and the same type of pain in my right foot. I was not even close to healthy. I lay there with a limp lifeless body and waited. After a short time I heard movement in the background, then noises of animals. Soon I noticed they were wolves, slowly walking up towards me. There must have been five or six of them. They were stalking me, but I was already unconscious. Why did they have to be cautious with me? Then I knew. The last wolf to approach me, it seemed to be the leader, started licking certain parts of me. I knew I was a goner now. But this was a replay of my past, so the must not of killed me, but they certainly did hurt me a lot. Then the wolf gave me a nasty bite on my wrist, then my left leg. Soon the rest joined on in, like it was a common ritual to them. I did not hurt at all. Instead it felt kind of pleasurable. I knew now what I was, and the potential of what I can become; an ego trip. Well, I sure as hell needed it! I woke up to the real world with this memory, and much to my delight, finally changing to my full potential.

“You are trying to kill me with common rope?! Too bad you had no clue about me preacher.” I grabbed a handful of his hair, “ Now you shall DIE!” And I threw him to the ground, back first, a hard as I could, breaking his neck instantly. I knew it broke because I heard it.

“I’m hungry!” I look around at all the people present, and then I chose the one plumpest to my eye. “You’ll do fer now chubby!” And I commenced to have one of the best dinners of my life, even though it only lasted ten minutes. I distinctly remember a, what at the time I thought was gorgeous, scream at me “MY HUSBAND! You’re killing my husband!” I began searching for her. Somehow it was not hard to find her. I could smell her! I knew what town it was. I had to know what house.

I wandered the town a little bit searching for her. Everyone was in a panic to stop me from walking around. I did not know why they were afraid. I changed back. I guess not enough. I looked in a mirror and saw my face, but the eyes of a wolf. I smiled back at the mirror with admiration. Everything was coming to me now. I knew I was a god.

Then I found her. “Hello.” I yelled to the house. “Hello in there.” No answer. I guess I will introduce myself to the widow during this mass hysteria over me. So I knock on the door. “ Hello. Hello, Mrs. MacShithead, are you in there?” Still no answer. So I entered on my own only to be greeted rudely by an older mortal.

“Now that’s not a nice way to greet a new houseguest is it?” I grabbed the man by the neck and thrust him into a convenient chair. “Sit down and drink yer tea old man!” Now to my quest I thought to myself. “ Were are you my little pretty one. Where are you hiding?”

I quickly met up with the rest of the family, namely the mother and other two sisters; it seemed like, “Go away you vermin!”

“Now, normally I would fuck you hard then kill you for that comment, but you’re too old so I’ll just kill you.” I reached my fist into her chest, pulled out her heart then ate it. This made the other two women faint. Undaunted, I search for my princess. She was not hard to find, in her room it looked like, hiding under her bed, I pulled her from under it and tore off her clothes in one slash, creating a little bloody wound.. That is okay. They are better that way.

“You killed and ate my husband, you animal.”

“All, but his manhood. I cannot stand another man’s manhood.”

“Are you going to eat me too?”

“No. I’m going to have my way with you. Then I’m gonna have my way with those other two downstairs. Then I’ll leave this decrepit village.”

“How dare you-”

I slap her then turn back into the beast. “I dare very much because I can do anything.”

It only took me ten minutes with her, I think. It would have bee longer, but I had two others to do the same to then get the hell out of there. This was wonderful, quick pleasure. Next time I should remember to plan better so it would be longer. After I was done, I had to run out of here. I, of course, was unopposed. With the wind in my fur and a dust trail in the moonlight, I ran to the highest elevation point to yell back down onto the town.

“This town of Caledonia is now and forevermore cursed after your ill-treatment of me. Let it be written that I am the one to be feared by all whether it is in history or legend. My name and my soul will not brook any aggression. I now run the show! I am stronger, I am faster, and I am smarter than ANY of the likes of you and others in surrounding shires! In twenty years your next generation will be plagued with my disease and will rule over this town as much I can rule over you as well. I now will live forever on MY terms! I don’t even care if I’m damned for eternity. I’m going to live for an eternity and I might be so bold as to say I am eternity. May you never, ever forget the name, Marillion!”

Hence my lifelong adventure begins, for generations to come and go.

The Voice of Nothing

So I guess I wasn’t meant to write a blog. It’s the eight of November and nobody has read this for a month; so much for this idea and so much for the experiment. I’ll admit I was optimistic at first, but see how far optimism gets me; about four inches from the door. It is really daunting when someone does an entire article on trick questions to measure the common sense quotient of the American people and everyone reads that yet nobody ever knows about my own stuff.

“Can you end a sentence with the word ‘the’?”

Heh, funny; I was dead tired and still got in within a New York minute. That’s just one of many things that’s been bugging me but then anyone who may stumble on my blogging will figure that out easily, if indeed this thing doesn’t get shut down do to my own neglect. Of course another fault of mine is holding back. Sometimes you have to hold back or you turn into a complete idiot making absolutely no sense or alienating everyone who’s around you.

The world fucking sucks and hurts, yeah, I God damned get it, but once, just fucking once, I wish I could grab that glimmer of hope and ride it until I die. Sometimes it just makes me wonder if I’ll ever be able to tell, if I get that last chance, that it is a chance and not be too stupid to let it walk away in anger before I realize I missed my ride for the last time. I’m not surprised that this blog has turned to the way of almost anything else I’ve tried to do; an epic fail. Makes me wonder why I still try to write at all if it isn’t going to get me anywhere. (This includes the books, of course, which have be barely bought by anyone out there.)

Voice of nothing seems to be my title.

So I’ll put down introductions I’ve written in the past for my books that I’ve published or not, at least they find a home, maybe finish this one serialized story that I started back in the day and put here on this blog, maybe even post a bad poem here and there, but as it stands with a constant post with this blog, put a fork in this steak because it is done. The only way it can be resuscitated back to life if people actually read it and comment. Even if it’s a “fuck you” comment, by now, it’s something rather than nothing. Sorry to be a sour puss but this was not meant for me alone to read.

H.R. Green, 8^th of November 2009, 9:45 p.m. Burtchville, MI

Camping Around the Idiot Box

So a little while back I got enamored with a new television show called “Defying Gravity.” Unfortunately I knew this television show was doomed from the start. First, it was one I liked very much and second, it was an intelligent science fiction series. Well, it was as close to science fiction as the American networks would get. Only thirteen episodes of this show and it was suddenly scrapped, I knew I couldn’t count an both the networks and the viewing public to carry on with something that would actually make them think as well as entertain. ABC carried the majority of the episodes, just not all of them but thankfully I’m close to Canada, so I can see the last shows telecast from their networks. (I think it was CTV.) So what does ABC put into it’s place after the poor ratings? How about a rehashed sci-fi show from the eighties called “V?” And the idea was just as cheesy as it’s eighties counterpart; lizard people using synthetic skin to look more human who are about to destroy the human race. Yeah, it sounds like the same thing. I guess “SyFy” wins out again as more and more I get sick and tired of this bubblegum culture get stupefied by their little glass teat friend, a.k.a. “The Idiot Box” a.k.a. television. I know now why P.B.S. to me is getting cooler by the day.

Very little out there peaks my interest anymore. Granted there’s “House” and “Burn Notice” in the summer, and hopefully a “Warehouse 13” on the horizon, but beyond them we get stuck with franchised shows, as if we don’t have enough with one concept, we get force fed with multiples of the same shows, like “CSI” and “Law and Order,” now “NCIS” is beginning to be franchised. Granted some are good shows but they are too much of a good thing. What’s next? “Law and Order” the cartoon?

A while ago I watched the older scifi shows and realized from when I was a child up to now how one’s intellect may change. When I was eight I loved watching “Buck Rogers,” I thought that show was really cool and was pissed when they cancelled the show. I even had a little Twiki robot toy. When I watch it now I catch on more to the adult themes, mainly the difference in Buck’s knowledge of the twentieth century and his perpetual slang he constantly used that would confuse his friends. I didn’t get that part of the show when I was younger.

On the other hand, when I was younger I always fell asleep when Star Trek was on, and I really tried to follow it. I didn’t help that the local station at the time aired it on Sunday afternoon, right after church when I was fighting to stay awake during the sermons. After that torture was supposed to be naptime, usually. Now that I’m older and other Star Trek series came on I was able to get a better grasp on the original series, granted I’m not a trekker or trekkie, though my wife is, but I am now able to enjoy it a little more, however Star Trek Voyager and Enterprise was really pushing things, hence, the franchise comment above.

“Babylon 5”; great concept, was fun to watch, a beginning, middle, and end was a nice kick in the teeth to those “franchise” people. “Farscape” should have be given a better treatment than it was, but I guess the “Stargate” franchise was more important. Oh, by the way, “SGU” is ass. “Battlestar Galactica,” now there was something that was done right by “SyFy,” sort of; with their beginning, middle, and end, just way too fucking depressing. The earlier series and miniseries “1980” I never saw at first because bedtime was 9 pm for a long time. I missed a lot of decent TV because of that but I also missed a lot of shitty TV too. But, with the original series, I read the Book of Mormon, so I had an idea of the show’s concept. About the same with the new one, except this one had an ending and gave me a replacement word for my vernacular so I don’t swear in front of my children. That is always a good thing.

“Terminator: The Sarah Conner Chronicles” ended too fast, and so did “Firefly,” however both are just sci-fi, still a little entertaining, and not just because Summer Glau was in both of them. These are just a few examples I’m giving you all, I’m sure others out there can voice out a few other television gems that should have earned a better shelf life.

But the idiot box will always churn out shit, because the viewing public wants shit, so it will give it shit. However, nowadays, the gourmet shit is “reality TV.” And that’s a whole other rant.

TTFN

H.R. Green, 7^th of Novemeber, 2009, 11:30 p.m. Burtchville, MI

Pulp Toys

Okay, people wonder how weirdos lose their minds in the first place. I wish society would make up it's fucking mind as to what's acceptable and what is not, whether it pertains to sex, religion, fashion or stereotypes. The double standard of say one thing/do something different tends to get on my nerves. Today's topic, my friends, to put it generally, is toys.

Specifically, this Ken doll over here, smiling, looking like a million bucks, and yet another one that looks like it swings in the wrong direction to give it a little description; I mean, come on, what man would walk a dog out like that? But, more importantly, Mattel is telling girls to go out and get a man with loads of money, regardless of sexual orientation. Is it wrong? Yes. Can you stop it? No, not really. I am still waiting on trailer park Barbie to be created. Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll have a massvie recall on it due to bad taste? Okay, so the Ken doll is a collector's item, but, still, damn!

This is so disenchanting, my son tried, at least I think he tried, for a long time to stick to normal toys but that computer and those playing cards proved too addicting. Then again, he keeps his plastic swords to beat his friends with to get his agressions out so it isn't all bad. "We are the Knights who say 'Ni!'"

Then again, I shouldn't bitch too much, I am a part of the generation who thought the Atari 2600 was the shit. Actually it was the only game in town for a while. And wouldn't it be great if the video games were more lifelike? Well, they are now, and they're turning our's and our children's brains into moose poop. Television, doing the same thing, but when the toys get weird on you it's gotta give you some pause.

Remember the fucking Furby, anyone? The little A.I. stuffed animal that talked and "learned," that doll was evil! It was more evil than Teddy Ruxpin. The cartoons were not much better; cartoons, mind you, that tied themselves into merchandise in some way. YuGiOh was/is a show that was written around a collectable card game that it was based off of, so watch the show, see how the game is played, and imagine your dark magicians and dragons jump off the cards themselves. WHEEEEEEEEEE! At least with Transformers you can create a vehicle and turn it back into a robot. Pokemon and YuGiOh is just about as bad as playing Mystery Date; "Character's faces do not talk."

Well, on an unrelated not, this is the end of week three of the experiment and I gotta say, pretty fucking dismal. This is worse than my book sales and that's saying something. Not even a "you suck" comment on my blog. ::Shrugs::

Well, we will see if I can write any blogs in the next three days but I highly doubt it. It's convention time for me before I become a slave to the grind once again. If my books were bought, I wouldn't have this problem. TTFN

H.R. Green, 29th of October, 2009, 12:53 p.m. Flint, MI