But It's a Dry Heat

Archive for October, 2011

Halloween Playlist and Sandy Claws

Kidnap the Sandy Claws, lock him up real tight
Throw away the key and then
Turn off all the lights

Kidnap the Sandy Claws, beat him with a stick
Lock him for ninety years, see what makes him tick.

And so it begins…the holiday season. Actually, in your average retail store, Christmas began about a month ago. I’m not a complete Grinch (more like 45% proof), but I’ve lost my childlike wonder with the Christmas holiday. Well, let’s face it, about 90% of that childlike wonder was actually avarice. Kids are greedy little pirates, looking forward to a mighty haul of swag.

But Christmas is fun, after you subtract the shopping, gift wrapping and other work. I still love putting up a tree; sparkly lights and here in New Mexico, luminarias. This year we’ll get to have X-Mas Eve dinner in our new dining room, instead of stuffed like sardines around our tiny kitchen table.

But…there are days, when I wish Oogie Boogie’s henchmen would kidnap the Sandy Claws.

I like Halloween, with its ghosts and ghoulies. It’s a pity I don’t actually have the time to celebrate it properly. The closest I get is by playing my Halloween playlist over and over. (Because I’m twelve.)

Some of the Songs on my Halloween Playlist

“All the Myths are True,”  Abney Park; “Before I’m Dead,” Kidney Thieves; “Cry Little Sister,” Gerald McMann; “Dead Man’s Party,” Oingo Boingo; “Ghost Love Score,” Nightwish; “A Gorey Demise,” Creature Feature; “Dragula,” Rob Zombie; “Moon Over Bourbon Street,” Sting; “My Beloved Monster,” Eels; “Paint it Black,” Inkubus Sukkubus; “Rawhead and Bloodybones,” Siouxsie and the Banshees; “Re: Your Brains,” Jonathan Coulter; and “The Undertaker,” Puscifer.

What’s on your Halloween playlist?

Transformers: Dark of the Moon

Yesterday, Netflix vomited Transformers, Dark of the Moon into our mailbox. The reference to regurgitation being appropriate, since after freeing itself of that DVD, I’m sure Netflix felt much better. (Sorry, suckas. It goes back to you today.)

Why was it in our queue? Because the hubby and I are geeks and if it has any element of SF or fantasy, we’re are compelled to watch. Compelled by the power of nerd (and Greyskull/see, “nerds.”). We have the same problem with action flicks. Can’t not watch ’em.

Husband and I plop our butts on the couch, dinner in hand, and fire up the DVD. The movie starts, straightaway, no previews, suggesting that (more…)

A Woman’s Perogative

The average size for a home in the U.S., as of 2009, was 2700 square feet. Our little casa, at 1200, is a mite shy of average. It, along with a half dozen other houses in the neighborhood, was a builder’s concession to the notion of “affordable housing.”

As home for two humans and one large dog, Casa de Kirby doesn’t need to be a McMansion. Any issues with space are the result of a tendency toward packrat-ism that could easily be cured by a trip to the dump.

One exception. The dining room. Or the lack thereof. Events like Christmas dinner take place in a tiny corner of our tinier kitchen. When everyone is seated, getting stuff out of the fridge requires a hybrid game of Twister and Musical Chairs.

The attached garage, like everything else in (more…)

Priest

Once thing can be said for the movie Priest. It is 100-percent free of sparkly vampires. Seriously. Unless they’ve been rolled in glitter, vampires shouldn’t sparkle.

The vampires in Priest resemble naked mole rats. Which, for a sun-hating, subterranean species, isn’t a bad bit of creature design. In humans–the vampire familiars–vampirism causes a particularly virulent case of male pattern baldness. So fans of pretty boy vamps should look elsewhere.

The premise of Priest is simple and flawed. Humans and vampires have been (more…)

Greyhound Racing, Still Full of The Suck

Thanksgiving, about a month away at this point, is coming at the speed of … a greyhound.  The Corrales Society of Artists’ Holiday show will take place over the three days after Thanksgiving. After a whole season of doing next to nothing, “artz-wise,” I’ve got to get my ass in gear and make some inventory.

I was also working on edits for my upcoming release, The Canvas Thief. I think, maybe, that’s out of the way for a while. (Editor sent the final version onto where ever final versions go.) And I’m doing a book signing–The Music of Chaos–in Corrales the same weekend as the Holiday Art Show.

In the interest of appearing to have an online pulse, I give you mo’ anti-greyhound racing propaganda. Greyhound racing is a sleezy and cruel business, which, like the carton of curdled milk in the back of your fridge, has long since passed its expiration date.

The accompanying graphic is a preliminary sketch that hasn’t gone anywhere. It has problems with perspective and the race car looks like a Beetle. Does anyone race Beetles? But I got nothin’ else, so I went ahead and inked it in Photoshop.

For information on how you can help end the cruel greyhound racing industry, go to Grey2K USA.