A man-hating cyber-psychopath is leading a one-woman crusade to cleanse the city of chauvenism! Can our two proud male chauvenist pigs put a halt to the triple-X (chromosome) terror of ...The Feminazi?
I'm proud to announce that Smoking Cat Productions is marching into its third year. With nearly 7,400 hits, three books, five short stories, and a monthly comic book series to its credit, the website has grown by leaps and bounds. However, a growing child needs to be fed...and that takes money. Of course, my long-standing dispute with the Herald is cutting very deeply into my earning potential, damaging my credibility and denying me valuable interviews with newspapers. Mormonism has Joseph Smith and its golden tablets buried in a hill; liberalism has Scott Mitchell and the Magic Phantom Sketch.
I don't think anyone could ever understand what I had to give up because of the unthinking, contemptuous actions of The Big Five--especially not the left. These self-appointed bastions of tolerance routinely downplay my loss. They cannot fathom the depths of their own depravity. They act as if it was a little inconsequential thing, like, oops, I broke a shoelace, or, oh no, I dropped some food on my pants. No, you morons, this was a huge, life-altering experience. I lost not only a career, friends, and my education, but my ability to trust in people. Echoes of this loss can be seen in Eve Bade Adam Eat, SweetTart, and Tiresias. Though each has a unique flavor and a different ending, at its core lies the same story: a young man who, through no fault of his own, goes from god to gutter overnight, and spends the rest of his life trapped on the outside looking in. The Herald was the one place I ever felt truly loved. I, for the first time in my life, belonged. But suddenly everything I loved was taken from me because of petty people with their ugly suspicions and lies. I'm not really mad over having to leave the paper. If they wanted me to resign, I'd have stepped down gladly; all they had to do was ask. They could have at least been mad at me for something I'd actually done or said or written; however, they felt they had to fabricate something entirely just to get me, and that was wrong. Like those fabled sheets of holy writ Smith once unearthed in an obscure New England field, only one man in the world, a greedy little copy boy, has ever seen the golden sketch. Yet ten years have passed, and its followers grow exponentially in number daily, going from seven little morons and a corrupt faculty advisor to untold legions, perhaps hundreds, even thousands, in number. The only reason you on the left hate me is because I refuse to buy into your odious false gospel, and I dare to fight back, refusing to be the good little victim you want me to be. You have punished me ten years for a crime I didn't commit. Look into your black hearts and your tiny backwards minds and ask yourself, you judgmental fools: how effective is a punishment if your victim doesn't know what he's being punished for? You liberals are soulless monsters with no sense of human concepts like caring, compassion, or mercy. Feel shame, if you even can.
Liberalism is a religion unto itself: God for the godless. Like any faith, liberalism starts as a belief, hardens to a dogma, and if not watched, will escalate into a crusade. Despite never having laid eyes upon the Magic Phantom Sketch, you leftist morons believe without question in its existance and spew streams of vitriol at anyone who dares to question either their faith or St. Mitchell the Selfless. Believe in the sketch all you wish, Sybil2 and General Tasty. That's fine. It's when you start hanging people from the rafters because they don't think like you that you become a problem. You are only two such examples of these blind, brainwashed acolytes screaming "Convert the heathen! Destroy the unbeliever!". Hypocrites! You preach love and acceptance yet march blindly after a false prophet and viciously attack anyone who dares to disagree with you. You spam my guestbook, mock and curse me on message boards, and spread lies against me in every dark corner you human roaches meet in to talk. Journalists are the worst--an ugly, narrow-minded, incestuous little lot. I recently learned Bonnie Thrasher, Herald advisor, has been working for the Jonesboro Sun this summer. The very woman who took the most beautiful thing in my life and twisted it into something ugly and perverted, my nemesis, served as associate editor on the Sun, where I have been trying desperately to secure an interview. How can I ever hope to see ink in a paper that is in bed with the devil herself?
North County Road 857, Virago, and La Corneta del Juicio are still available as a series of free exclusive downloads. Almasheol and Postcards of the Hanging are still sold through our partners at XLibris. Please patronize the magazines that have kindly published my "The Kestron Lenses", "The Second Mrs. Pecker", and "Dog's Breakfast", for there are other wonderful pieces there as well by many talented authors and artists. The comic book will still be distributed here for a small cost (a dollar an issue, unless stated otherwise). Plus look for our upcoming third novel Tiresias, and expect a few other surprises in '07.
To buy direct from the publisher or any one of a number of online stores that sell my books or a magazine where a story by me is published, run your mouse over the name of the shop (e.g. XLibris, Amazon, Powell's) and click on it.
To order please send your payment to
Smoking Cat Productions
PO Box 2, Armorel AR 72310
In the memo section of your check, please write the title of the issue(s) of the comic book you want and your e-mail address. Prices are the same for e- books and hard copies, so far, and the better the demand, the more we'll be able to keep our prices low and competitive. We have zero overhead. We don't have a warehouse piled full of mouldering stacks of books. We start printing your item custom the moment we see cash in hand, and ship it to you within a week or so of your order.
Buying at Smoking Cat is the perfect venue for those of you tired of being ripped off and harassed by those other book clubs out there, with their exhorbitant prices and double-billing. We also provide services they don't, such as free short-story downloads--a sort of sample for for those who like to get a feel of my writing before they buy--and external buying links for those who like to comparison-shop for the best prices on the web. To say nothing of our wholehearted support for the underground and self-published writer just starting out. Now how many big-name glitz-and-glamour best-seller mail-order twelve-for-a-penny people will do that for you, eh? Eh?
Order now and get a free copy of our short animated film "The Copy Editor's Lament" with your purchase.
At Smoking Cat, our thoughts and prayers go out to the victims of Katrina and Rita, the Blacksburg shootings, the mine disasters in Utah, and the recent heat deaths in the Mid-South.
"In Greek mythology, Tiresias was said to have been turned into a woman for smiting two mating snakes with his staff. Seven years later, when Lady Tiresias traveled the same road and came upon two snakes similarly entwined, she struck them with her walking-stick to become a man again. He later was blinded by Hera when, based on his own unique experience, he claimed a woman enjoys sex better than a man. Given the gift of divination by Zeus, the prophet later foretold the fall of Oedipus."
What begins as a puzzling case of mistaken identity soon becomes murder and stalking -- but who is stalking whom? This twisted tale of betrayal and revenge is full of surprises that would even have Norman Bates guessing. One of Smoking Cat's most outrageous novels.
"Frome had seen the damned thing sitting on Shoultry's desk a thousand times and always wanted to ask him who the other guy was. But for some reason he never got to asking the hardened nineteen-year veteran about it. So he simply looked into the old man's face--not so much a per-fectly chiseled stone visage by Michaelangelo but more like a rock molded into a semblance of humanity by, say, centuries of water flowing over its surface--and deferred to its grizzled wisdom and seniority by keeping his gob shut.
"It" was a simple wood-framed photo, one of the few personal touches on a desk cluttered with official precinct papers, of a smiling young Hispanic-looking man in a police academy-issue sweatshirt. Next to him, arm about his shoulder, was Sarge, about twenty years younger and fifty pounds less, in an identical garment. About my age then, I'd say, Dennis Frome of the Tesla Police Department murmured inwardly. You gotta wonder whatturns this--he looked again at the smiling young Sarge with the Hispanic officer, both smiling and fresh out of basic--into that. He looked over at sour-faced Sgt. Adam Shoultry, his hardened balding head bent over his desk, deep in paperwork.
Frome might have never learned the story of Luis Gabriel if not for a chance mishap.... "
The scathing confession of a man imprisoned for the murder of his wife, who reveals in his first and perhaps final diary entry that he did not act alone.....
You always remember your first crush. For 18-year-old Howard Russell, it was Dyla--a girl whose clothes never fit quite right and who could never really fit in wth the popular kids. But there was something about her that attracted Howard--an Odd Sock, as he calls himself.
Ten years later, Howard published his journals, a bittersweet reflection of his school days, of life growing up in poor, rural Algodon Mills, Missouri; and of the indelible mark Dyla Gaddis left on his heart. "She was not a girl, but a being too good for this world," he wrote. "I wanted my goddess back, but it was too late." It's a touching and painful account that speaks, perhaps, to our own high school experience.
But don't call him a novelist. He's just a guy telling you what happened.
Newspaperman Xavier Harold Stafford desperately needs glasses for his work. He can afford only a cheap pair, but they work...magically well. Sometimes you get what you pay for; only we have an inkling how dearlyHarry is going to pay for what he gets....
The author, on his birthday, gave a very revealing interview to a devoted sci-fi fan. In it he talks about gowing up a child of the eighties, gives an in-depth answer to that old chestnut, "What inspires you?", gives some tantalizing info about future projects and unpublished manuscripts, plays a little "what if...?" game, and shares some memories about things like workin' for The Man and the worst birthday ever. read HTML version
The creator, writer, and artist of Belch Dimension Comicssits down with his favorite mod and outlines the history and nature of the American Left, as well as revealing how The Belch Dimension came to be, discussing some of his friends he's made at AJM, and waxing philosophically on the price of a good burrito.
Blue Canary, an online comic drawn by an old friend from my Herald days (who, like all the other ex-staffers, never returns my e-mails). Kathryn White also did the "Sassafrass Roots" strip, later retitled Mosquito Creek.
Chip and Walter. Drawn by another Jonathan, "Dub" Gray, from Toon Zone, this hilarious and surreal strip stars a quartet of duck children, an eggnog-loving mad scientist, and an incompetent assassin named Mr. Twister. If I had to qualify it, it's sort of like Disney on acid.
Chocolate Malta. Sort of like Friends, with the whole coffeehouse setting and no black people--but everyone isn't sleeping together. Yet. It's got a cute kitten, and what I think is a Muppet on crack.
Commissioned. A webcomic about the making of a webcomic. It's the trevails of O, a struggling artist and sometimes role-playing gamer, and his friends. On ocassion the story behind each strip is even more hilarious than the strips themselves.
Devil's Panties. It's not especially about panties, and the devil (and occassionally Jesus) only show up periodically, but there you are. It's hailed as a "feminist comic", but even an old misogynist like me can enjoy it.
Electric Girl. The shocking (sorry, couldn't resist the pun) travails of a bioelectric teenage superheroine with a cute pooch and a guardian gremlin.
Thedarktower.net. My personal user page at the forums. An excellent resource and watering-hole for the die-hard Stephen King fan. You must register as a user to access parts of the forum or to talk to me there.
Housd. A comic about the trials and tribulations of geek and slacker life. And there's a monkey. Look at the funny monkey.
MOTU. A personal home page from a fellow Masters of the Universe fan, friend, and the model for Rachel "Rocky" Stuart in "Dark Hunger". Yeah, it's sponsored by GeoShitties. Sorry.
The Order of the Stick. Yes, another stick-figure based comic actually exists out there! This one is drawn by a guy named Chris Burlew. No, no talks of a crossover yet.
Scary Go Round. Sentient gases, mad scientists, zombies, vampires, aliens, goblins, robots, dimensional warps, and a weird little bald kid with a prophesy of change. A very surreal webcomic drawn by John Allison, set in a small British town routinely plagued by the supernatural.
Sexy Losers. Described as "rude, crude, and frequently hilarious" by one blogger. Hentai webcomic. Adult themes and nudity.
Toon Zone's comic book solicitations. Covers and plot summaries for some of my favorite DC titles past and present, including Animaniacs, Batman, Looney Tunes, Pinky and the Brain, and Superman.
Two Lumps. A comic about Ebenezer and Snooch, an odd pair of housecats. One is a genius; the other is insane. Why does that sound so familiar?
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