That’s “Hello Readers!” according to Google Translate. Being Italian I should technically know how to say that on my own, but my family’s dialect is far too regional to communicate anything coherent. Luckily I had the chance to interview fellow Italian and renowned world traveler, Christopher Columbus. Let’s hope his English is better than my Italian: (more…)
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Grim has arrived. The graphic novel empire known as Newbury Comics has graciously agreed to take a chance on everyone’s favorite Reaper by offering a spot for his book on its illustrious shelves.
For those of you who may not know, Newbury Comics is New England’s premiere comic/graphic novel/punk/new wave/indie music vendor. Considered Mecca to the pop-culture obsessed, I couldn’t imagine a better fit for a novella series as potentially off-putting as REAPERS WITH ISSUES.
Now, if I could just finish Book Two…
CLICK THE PIC FOR STORE LOCATIONS
Hold onto your garders people, because this next interviewee works red, white and blue. To commemorate the Fourth of July and a belated Flag Day we sit down with our nation’s favorite seamstress, the ever saucy Betsy Ross (Sparklebumps).
*** So tell me, Ms. Ross, what was it like being raised in a strict religious household?
As I was growing up, I never noticed that anything was amiss with regards to my religious upbringing. I was taught the ways of God and that to stray from them was a sin. It was until I met John that perhaps there was something more to life than praying and confession.
*** It seems you were quite the rebellious young woman. Tell us about your early love affair and your elopement with your husband, John.
I must point out, H.E., that I detest the word “rebellious”. I prefer the term “incorrigible.” No one has ever made me do something I didn’t want to do, and once I set my mind to do something, I do it, no matter what the reaction. That includes my elopement with John. My family was so upset I was excommunicated from our Quaker community. But every decision I made was worth it, because John was my one true love, and anyway, who could pass up the amazing honeymooning sex?
*** After John was killed in battle you went on to marry two more times which was nearly unheard of during the early 1700’s. How do you attribute your success in finding men?
I must be honest when I say that I’m not sure what it is that attracted all the men to me. I suppose my breasts may have had something to do with it, and my obnoxious need for love and affection…
*** I am going to quote Wikipedia here: “There is speculation that Betsy was the “beautiful young widow” who distracted Carl von Donop in Mount Holly, New Jersey, after the Battle of Iron Works Hill, thus keeping his forces out of the Battle of Trenton.” What was it like being so desirable that you potentially altered the future of a nation?
Women have been the cause for wars and the downfalls of countries for centuries. Just look at Helen of Troy. The main thing is to not let it go to your head.
*** Where did you get the idea for the design of the American Flag?
Well, I will let you in on a little secret here. I’m into S&M a bit, and I was asked to design the flag right before I had a more than satifying… encounter. There was blood striping my freshly-washed white sheets, and that’s where the idea for the stripes came from. The stars I thought of because I tried to think of the most beautiful and sparkly thing I could think of to represent each state of glittery happiness our country had. Voila!
*** If you hadn’t made the flag, what would you like to have made instead?
If I hadn’t made the flag, I probably would have designed amazing satiny dresses for prostitutes, so as to give them a semblance of class.
*** What’s history’s biggest misconception about Betsy Ross?
The biggest misconception? ALL women who misbehave are misconceived. You know what they say- “Well-behaved women rarely make history.” I guarantee you wouldn’t be interviewing me if I had remained a Quaker. XOXO
Just when I thought I’d said it all, El Guapo says it better. I give you my screenplay as seen through a very handsome lens:
THE ADVENTURES OF HELLIS IN BLOGGERLAND
Judging from the actors, your movie is a rom-com-buddy cop movie, with Edward Hotspur as the alien no one understands. Hilarity ensues as Edward, separated from the mother ship, is lost and adrift in dark foreboding Canadia. Kayjai, president of Canadia, takes pity on him and drives him (in a fast car, and apparently very few clothes) southeast to the wilds of New England, where for some reason, his gadgets are telling him to go.
Trask Avenue, a member of Canadia’s equivalent of the CIA (the dreaded MSF – Moose Syrup Fanatics), follows in hot pursuit. At the border, bored Border Guard, El Guapo, decides to leave his job and accompany the two star-crossed travellers on their journey. At one point, he distracts Trask from his pursuit while Kayjai and Hotspur escape. He is last seen (until the finale) telling a confused Trask (who has just arrested him) “Hey, if you can’t beat em, confuse em!”
Our story continues through the wilds of Nebraska and Ohio. They stop off at an empty diner, run by BestBathroomBooks for some food. He dispenses wit and wisdom along with hot coffee and huevos rancheros. They continue on their drive, stopping at an Ohio crossing to let the freight train pass. A badass in a mustang pulls up, none other than GingerSnaap. Hotspur reminds her of the frog who done her wrong (no, really, an actual frog) all those years ago, and there is a spectacular heart stopping chase through the cornfields (are there cornfields in Ohio?) of Ohio.
Kayjai and Hotspur manage to escape, heading east toward the dawning of a new day. They are exhausted and pull over to rest. While sleeping, Kayjai is visited by Sandylikeabeach, who sums up what has already happened, and hints about what may happen next – but she does it all in one long sentence that even includes her trademarked asides. And it’s all in Charo’s voice!!! (Seriously, this is my favorite scene of the movie!)
As they come out of the wilds and into the bigger cities, Trask Avenue is closing in. But Hotspur uses his magic to convince unbelievably sexy companions Sparklebumps and Megan that he is the good guy. They use their not inconsiderable wiles to slow down Trask while Kayjai and Hotspur escape.
Finally, closing in on the snow filled bus lots of New England, the two stop at the tire yard, and ask a shirtless, sweaty HR Nightmare (wearing a green shoulder mounted bikini thong)(because that’s how he rolls) where they can find the magic moose of Massachusetts – which is the only thing that can save Hotspur now.
(Sorry – earths environment is slowly killing Hotspur. What? I’m sitting at my desk writing this thing, cut me some slack. We good? Ok, moving on.)
HR points down a snow filled trail. Kayjai slowly eases the car down the path. We see Trask (in his gov’t issue Crown Victoria) speeding toward them. In the back seat, El Guapo rises, swinging a ski pole at the back of Trasks head. Trask yanks the wheel and Guapo flies out of the car, landing on a plank and, with a “WOOHOO” snowboards into the distance.
But while Trask was distracted, a blue Charger comes rocketing along the road. “SHINY!!!” bellows GingerSnaap, as she races along, bumping mercilessly into Trask in an attempt to drive him off the road. BestBathroomBooks, in the car with her, calmly calls out reasons to Trask why he should surrender. Trask grits his teeth and continues pounding down the road.
Into a clearing.
Where Sparklebumps, Sandylikeabeach and Megan all dance gracefully on an empty patch of land.
A bright light suddenly engulfs the beautiful ladies as Kayjai and Hotspur glide to a halt, Trask pulling up behind them. Arms spread, Hotspur steps into the circle of light, as Trask raises his gun. Sparklebumps flashes him to distract him, but surprisingly, that only works for a moment. Hotspur turns, and in the language of his people, yells “Unicorn! Palindrome lyric poem! Innuendo!”
Trasks weapon flies from his hand, and bewildered, he, with everyone else, watch the circle of bright light condense into a pinpoint beam of rainbow as Hotspur floats gently up to the mothership.
Kayjai strolls over to Trask. “For fucks sake.” she says.
Trask raises an eyebrow.
Apologies to everyone slandered in this, and if you’ve made it this far, next round is on me. Really, you earned it.
I’m sure I’ve mentioned somewhere in previous posts that I’m a New Englander, but unless you’re from here you can’t really comprehend the significance of that statement. New Englanders wear their citizenship like a badge of honor, defining ourselves not by our individual states but by our geographical region, much the same way someone from Scotland or Ireland would define themselves by their family, or clan.
So to help all of you southern, inland and west coasters out there understand the Clan New England, I’m going to break it down with a metaphorical example. Imagine a Thanksgiving day dinner table, and at one end you have:
This is grandpa. He doesn’t do or say much, and he’s been around so long you almost forget he’s there. Oh, and he doesn’t have teeth. Next to him is:
This is the oldest son, the one who went off all gung-ho to Vietnam and came back disillusioned and pissed. He rides a Harley and defends his right to not pay taxes. He’ll school you on the history of any firearm known to man, whether you ask him to or not. When he’s not at Laconia for bike week he’s at a Knights of Columbus meeting. He earns his money either by being a trucker, mechanic or working construction. And his wife is Asian. Always. Next to him is:
No one gets under New Hampshire’s tough leather skin quite like Vermont. Part hippie poser, part Phish fan, all organic NPR listening Vermont. He’s college educated, usually earning a degree in either history or philosophy, which makes him an expert on EVERYTHING. He’ll chastise you for driving anything other than a Prius and is forever preaching the evils of pop culture. The only reason he owns a television is to watch PBS, and he’s married to a girl from:
The oldest daughter of a respectable family, make no mistake she is Vassar bound. When she’s not out shopping for argyle socks she’s sticking a finger down her throat or sneaking out to heavy metal concerts to bang tattooed pretty boys on motorcycles. I’m guessing. Next to her is:
He’s the red-headed step child; New England’s own version of Oliver from the Brady Bunch. Our own personal small ball of “why?” And that leads us to the twins. I say twins because this next state is geographically bipolar. Divided by the city of Worcester (pronounced WOOS-tuh), their personalities are as oppositional as any two children could ever be. And that state is:
The child west of Worcester is the girl twin. She’s well-adjusted and lacking in any definable accent. She knows what she wants and that is to GET THE HELL OUT OF NEW ENGLAND. The twin east of Worcester is the boy twin, the one who calls you at 2 a.m. to come bail him out of jail because he:
A. Gave a Yankees fan a beat down.
B. Defended his position that Manhattan clam chowder is, by definition, not a chowder.
C. Beat someone who said something disparaging about Aerosmith or Godsmack or Denis Leary.
He’s the guy who doesn’t actually live anywhere; he just floats from couch to couch to couch. He borrows your car without your permission, drinks all your beer and steals your stuff. And even though you know he’s going to sleep with your girlfriend you let him in your house anyway because he’s just so damned awesome.
Just like any family we fight and spat amongst ourselves, but heaven help the punk who steps to one of us, because then he steps to all of us. Whitey Bulger wouldn’t be Whitey Bulger if he were from the midwest. Well, maybe Kansas. That place is like the friggin’ Twilight Zone. So the next time you cross the border into New England, roll down your windows and listen carefully; you just might hear our siren song:
Anyone who knows me knows that I am an extremely restless individual, and that every now and then I’ve got to switch things up. It could be something as easy as driving a different car for a while, or something as epic as painting my bedroom hot pink.
Since I’ve taken on more hours at work, the switching up has been happening at my desk, or more specifically, my desktop, to the amusement of my many co-workers. So for the amusement of you all, I share with you today a gallery of my ever-changing desktop wallpaper.
Ah…yes. The General Lee. My first love.
Mmm…The Metallicar. My present love.
Next we have two pics that are the perfect marriage of humor and music, Tenacious D. and Dethklok. If you don’t know who they are, I suggest hitting the Google immediately. If you don’t like them, well…we can’t be friends.
Now we have the two greatest bands I’ve ever had the good fortune of hanging out with backstage. Lit and Godsmack. Boys and their tattoos. Dreamy.
Why Lemmy? Because Lemmy is God, that’s why.
Next we have two of the greatest influences of my life: Roller Derby and Charles Bukowski. Bukowski touched me deeply on the inside, and Roller Derby smacked the crap out of me on the outside.
Because I can’t download porn.
Next are two pics of my seldom seen daughter, Babygirl. The one above was taken on Halloween when she was two years-old. Her father wanted her to be a princess, but she wanted to be a “basketball boy.” You see who won. (Yes, that is a regulation sized basketball. She was, and still is, very tiny). The one below was taken in our backyard with my nephew. I plan on writing a story just so I can use that pic as a book cover.
Last but not least, for reasons that I cannot begin to comprehend, my all time favorite desktop wallpaper pic ever!!!!!
Doesn’t this pic just say it all?
All across America families are gathered around their tables in celebration of Thanksgiving; a holiday that commemorates the first harvest of 1621 for the Pilgrims of Plymouth, Massachusetts. Here in New England, the birthplace of Thanksgiving, we honor our forebears by keeping with the tradition of serving turkey, an indigenous bird to this part of the country.
While many of us view turkey as festive holiday fare, there are some who consider our gesture of patronage murder. There is one who goes so far as to call it genocide. Today’s holiday interview is like no other that’s come before, because today we are conducting our interview in a secret hide-out free from the tyranny of New England’s native carnivores. Today we interview Pro-foul resistance leader, Tom Turkey.
Hello, Tom. Forgive me for sounding trite, but how are you doing?
Eat me – that’s how I’m doing. Oh, I’m doing really well. Gobble gobble and shit. I’ve been soaking in this hot tub all day – it smells great, sort of spicy or something. It’s making me hungry! GAH! Wait a minute…
Without revealing too much information, can you explain what is involved in engineering and maintaining an underground system of foul relocation?
Ah yes, the Undergrain Railroad. Well first, some wild turkeys are helping out with that by disguising some of us with camouflage and leaves. Those guys are poultry in motion. Secondly, we eat nothing but donuts and burgers and Cheetos to ensure that even if we’re caught, we’re too fatty to be palatable.
From what your lieutenants tell me you’ve been able to successfully move over one thousand turkeys out of New England to a Vegan commune somewhere in rural California. What are the logistics involved in such a massive migration, and were there any bumps along the way?
Besides these red things, you mean? HA HA! GOL! (Ed. note: gobble out loud) One word: trains. This country hates trains, so it’s easy to sneak on like a bunch of hobos and ride them all across the country. And when we can’t do trains, we ride bears. That’s right, bears! Grizzlies! In return for eating bugs. They hate bugs.
Have there ever been any close calls?
Yes there have – hunters. Those damned turkey calling things are like a siren song to some of us. Some of us are really fucking stupid, and when they hear one of those things go off, they go running out, and BLAM! Though this one time, one of our boys was able to get someone shot in the face. Hilarious!
And there was that one time when someone got a little smart for her own good, and read a map, and saw this country called… you know. She put the wrong two with the wrong two and got… well, eaten.
What would you like to see the Obama administration do in the form of policies that would make hiding out unnecessary?
Useless, Hellis. Useless. It’s already been tried. Over 200 years ago, we started a grassroots whisper campaign to get Benjamin Franklin to make the turkey the national bird. We would have been set FOREVER! But that idiot ran out in a rain storm and got shocked, and he was never the same. We couldn’t even get him on the ballot. Eventually, he went to France. Yeah, France. I know, right! Gobbledammed eagles swooped up and took the bird prize. They’re endangered, of course, but no one is eating them, are they.
More than just winning sovereignty for the Turkey population, you’ve been quoted as stating you’d like to see the Thanksgiving holiday abolished altogether. What in particular about Thanksgiving (other than turkey consumption) do you find distasteful?
Cranberry sauce. Terrible stuff. Oh, and those hand thingies, where human children trace their hands and pretend they’re turkeys? What the hell – those look nothing like us.
What’s your opinion on Turduken?
Well, I’ve stuffed a duck AND a chicken before, if you know what I’m saying, and I’ve seen ducks and chickens having some fun, but… yeah… this is just sick.
Finally, where do you see yourself in the future?
President of Mars, which will be renamed Turkopolis. It will also be renicknamed The Red Thingie Planet.
“It was an historic election day for the state of New Hampshire. NH has become the first state to elect an all female congressional delegation and governor. Granite State voters selected democrats for all of the top offices. Our four electoral votes have been awarded to President Obama.” - WMUR NEWS
SUCK IT BOYS!!!
Readers, today I have a better-late-than-never interview for you, and of course nature weighed in on this one. Interestingly, I had an interview set up with none other than Christopher Columbus that coincided with Columbus Day, but Hurricane Sandy had a voice in this. Mr. Columbus, welcome!
C.C.: Caio! I mean, hello!
H.E.: There is great debate about what your real motivations were for risking lives to discover the New World. Can you comment on what you were really thinking back there in Spain?
C.C.: I wassa thinking that Isabella was a pretty nice lady. What can I do? My blood, she is Italian.
H.E.: Were there any dangerous points along the way that made you consider turning back?
C.C.: Some of the sailors, they…weren’t lookin’ so good. Some of them even say I looka nice for a man. I think to myself, “Eh, Christoph…you need to find these men some women quick.” I say a little prayer and then boom- we finda land. I’mma one lucky sonafabitch.
H.E.: Rumor has it that you were in fact lost on your first trip, yet you are hailed as a navigational genius. Any comment on that apparent disparity of opinion?
C.C.: Hey…that’s some a pretty bigga words coming from someone who needs a the GPS to find her way out of the shower.
H.E.: You probably also have heard some of the racier rumors about shipboard life involving grog, sodomy and the lash. For a curious world, Chris, sheep or no sheep? Or was this a don’t ask/don’t tell situation?
C.C.: Hey…what’s a matta you? That’s not a polite. I will say this- they don’ta call them a “Seamen” for nothing.
H.E.: Obviously a lot has changed. On that note, America back then, or America now – which do you like better?
C.C.: That’s a easy – America today! They have a holiday justa for me!
H.E.: Okay, so if you had to do it all over again, what would you choose to do differently?
C.C.: Turna left.
H.E.: To wrap this up, Chris, your thoughts on the holiday in your honor?
C.C.: It’s lika my mama used to say, “All good things come from Italy.”
WEDNESDAY! WEDNESDAY! WEDNESDAY!
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WITNESS THE SPECTACLE THAT IS DESTINED TO BE KNOWN AS THE DUEL OF THE CENTURY! WATCH IN AMAZEMENT AS BLOGWORLDS’ OWN LILY-LADEN LOTHARIO EDWARD HOTSPUR MATCHES WITS WITH THE ENIGMATIC CLOWN PRINCE HIMSELF- LE CLOWN IN A DUEL SO INTENSE IT’S SURE TO MAKE HAMILTON AND BURR LOOK LIKE A SLAP FIGHT!
BUT WAIT…THERE’S MORE!!!
WATCH AS TEAM EDWARD’S OWN LOVELY AND TALENTED GINGERSNAAP OF OHMYGODJUSTDOWHATISAY FAME, FLANKED BY THE VERY HANDSOME EL GUAPO FACE-OFF AGAINST LE CLOWN’S OWN WORDSMITH EXTRODINAIRES MADAME WEEBLES AND SPEAKER 7.
The winning topics:
- Furries (fetish), suggested by Carrie Rubin (16 votes);
- Group Sex in Retirement Adult Community, suggested by Rutabaga (10 votes);
- Protection Identities, suggested by The Ringmistress (9 votes).
The face-offs will be as follow:
- September 19 – Furries: Ginger Snaap VS Speaker7;
- September 20 – Protection Identities: El Guapo VS Madame Weebles;
- September 21 – Group Sex in Retirement Community: Edward VS Le Clown.
All posts written by Team Iron Gonads of Iron Fire will be published on Le Clown‘s blog; posts from Team Dachshund will be published on Edward‘s blog. Winners will be crowned by the amount of LIKES each post will get. So you, readers, will have the final say as to who’s this blogosphere’s force to be reckoned with.
TICKETS AVAILABLE FOR THE EPIC BATTLE ROYALE AT THE DOOR FOR A LIMITED TIME ONLY!!!
THEY’LL SELL YOU A SEAT BUT YOU’LL ONLY NEED THE EDGE….
In an effort to promote my latest work entitled REAPERS WITH ISSUES I’ve decided to devote the next four days to interviewing my favorite middle management employees, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
We’ll begin the first of our interviews with the man beneath the cloak. We’ll discuss what it’s like working for God, his views on intra-office politics and yes, even his love life.
Today I sit down with none other than Death himself, THE GRIM REAPER.
HE: Good morning, Grim. How was your trip to Earth?
GRIM: Fine, I suppose, considering I traveled here by bus. Wouldn’t you know I sat next to a guy who had just come from an Oktoberfest somewhere. Nothing like sitting next to a fat man with bratwurst farts.
HE: Bus?? But I thought you were one of the Four HORSEmen?
GRIM: You’re right; I am, but since God promoted Gabriel to Head of the Archangel Board our department’s equine budget has been “reallocated” south, if you know what I mean.
HE: South? Are you talking about Hell?
GRIM: Look, I don’t want to be the guy who trash talks other department heads, but between you and me let’s just say that Lucifer’s productivity doesn’t jive with the funds flowing his way. It’s good to have a big brother in high places is all I’ve got to say on the matter.
HE: Alright, moving on. What confounds you most about mortals?
GRIM: I’d have to say it’s your obsession with your appearance. A mortal’s lifespan is over in a flash, and yet you feel the need to spend your money on useless beauty procedures. If you only knew what you looked like without your skin, you wouldn’t bother. Trust me.
HE: Where is your favorite place to reap?
GRIM: Canada. The friendliest mortals come from there. The beer’s not bad either, eh?
HE: If you were mortal, what job would you want to have?
GRIM: Gloucesterman, hands down. Nothing sounds better to me than a solitary life of peace and tranquility on the sea. Plus all you can eat lobster. Hmm…pass the buttah.
HE: Has a mortal ever escaped you?
GRIM: Never. Although over the years Dick Clark has given me the slip a couple of times.
HE: What’s the most negative aspect of wearing a meat suit?
GRIM: Meat suits are extremely high maintenance. I’ve yet to find one that didn’t have something wrong with it. They’re hot, they leak and they fall apart easily. And did I mention the smell?
HE: Is it hard working for God?
GRIM: God? Uh…no, not really. I’d say the biggest problem is working for the idiots he puts in charge; namely his sons. They bicker constantly; spend money on themselves, barely show up to work and help themselves to the Heavenly budget just to name a few things. Not to mention that each one thinks he’s the boss when the Big Man’s not around. Typical family business horseshit. Oops! Sorry…horse-puckies.
HE: Is Lucifer as bad as they say?
GRIM: Only if you are a mortal. I was reaping amoebas while he was still in his Father’s good graces, so he’s not too intimidating to me. He’s sort of like a splinter, not lethal- but irritating.
HE: What do you have to say about the Mayans?
GRIM: One of Lucifer’s practical jokes. Just ignore him or he’ll keep it up.
HE: Your dream date is?
GRIM: A certain special lady, a certain Latin meat suit, and a month in the Bahamas. In fact I’m leaving on a trip there as soon as I’m finished with this interview.
HE: Beatles or Elvis?
HE: Favorite sports team?
GRIM: Anyone but the Raiders. Those a-holes don’t know when to die.
HE: Where do you see yourself in five years?
GRIM: If all goes to plan, running my department. I recently managed to cut loose some dead weight so I think things should be running smoothly once I get back from the Bahamas.
HE: What would mortals be most surprised to learn about you?
GRIM: That I have feelings just like everyone else. Being Death isn’t easy, you know. Please don’t fear me.
Thanks for stopping by and visiting with the Grim Reaper. Tune in Tuesday when we sit down with the Horseman better known as Famine, followed by Pestilence on Wednesday and War on Thursday. Stick around this weekend when we’ll be sitting down to chat with some of the upper (and lower) members of the Office of Heavenly Affairs. Until then, stay well avoid the Reaper!