Intro to Part 2
Link to Part 1
On the formatting: I hope the screenplay sections are readable. I realize that they’re formatted a little strangely – I did what I could with the limited tools available. I still can’t figure out how to indent the first line of a paragraph, so it’s a bit miraculous if I managed to cobble together some legible script writing.
On the epithets: There are some racial slurs in the text. I don’t use them flippantly or gratuitously. I’m confident that the character who makes use of them is absolved in the end.
On the story itself: This is either the dumbest or the smartest story I ever wrote. Part of me wants to write twenty more Xenomatra stories, follow her into adolescence as she grapples with her identity, into adulthood as she thrashes in the moral quicksand of social justice. The other part of me wants to burn the little bit that I’ve already written. What I know for sure is that nobody will publish any of it.
Anyway, here’s the second part of Xenomatra – Social Justice Warrior Continue reading
A Brief Intro:
Here’s another story that will never have a home. This one had its genesis in the very simple, completely juvenile observation that the Greek goddess of ‘social justice’ is a dyke. Never mind that her name is spelled D-I-K-E and is pronounced differently (it rhymes with Nike) – it was close enough to the mark that I had myself a chuckle at the expense of wokeness.
It ought to have ended there, with the ‘heh’ I probably muttered under my breath. But for some reason a mythic origin story for the Social Justice Warrior began to appeal to me. I wondered what would happen if I set aside my antipathies and chased a certain kind of narrative logic to its unbiased conclusion. Xenomatra is the unexpected result. I’m posting it in two parts because a) it’s rather long, and b) formatting this particular story for the blog has been a nightmare. Part 2 is still under the knife.
So here is Part One of Xenomatra — the original SJW. Continue reading
People never ask me about the Bill of Rights. I consider this an unfortunate state of affairs because I have developed several cogent remarks that concern this subject. Lacking a proper audience I pollute the Internet. Continue reading
The gates of Psycho Pasture opened after Jim ate the banana, and the whole host of pedophiles was unleashed upon the grand plane of paradise. There were some like Jim and the King, who had suffered innocently in the unlucky crossfire between the devil’s conceit and humanity’s prejudice – but most were pale and greasy and thoroughly guilty. Tens of thousands of child-raping men and women stepped out into the light and were bewildered by it. Continue reading
For two years Jim occupied a dungeon cell at Psycho Pasture. His leg was chained to a radiator, he used a stamping machine to make customized license plates for the non-rapist free peoples of paradise, and his cell mate was a pale and greasy man with thin hair and skin disease. Garvey was remorseless about his pedophilia, and Jim often tried to convince Garvey that he ought to feel bad about raping children.
“I mean, at the very least you know that you’re an asshole, right?” Jim said on several occasions. “All other considerations aside, all arguments out the window, in the absence of God and absolute moral authority – you still know in your heart that you’re asshole.” Continue reading
The Psycho Rapist Pasture wasn’t really a pasture. It was more like a circular prison that never came around all the way, and in the middle there was an off-limits garden. Jim figured calling it a pasture was some kind of euphemism.
“And if you’ll look over here,” said the chipper tour guide, “you’ll see the Masochist Chambers, where psychotics can torture, bind, mutilate, and rape a few lucky visitors. The facility is equipped with every known torture machine devised by man, dating all the way back to the bronze age – and a few that the angels cooked up themselves.” Continue reading
Hey guys, not sure if there’s any of you still out there. Haven’t posted in a while. But that short film based on my Jim stories is finally available online. Here it is in all of it’s irreverent glory:
Thanks to everyone involved for a wild ride, and especially to you if you’re reading this. If you’re one of the 8 billion people that hasn’t checked out the illustrated novel yet, it’s free for a couple of days:
Keep the indies alive!
Abdulaziz al-Omari stood on the corner of a busy intersection in Downtown Paradise. He rang a bell and wore a cardboard sign that said, 911 was an inside job. He looked weathered.
Jim watched him from the veranda of the ice cream shop, spooning sundae into his mouth. The terrorist didn’t wear much for an expression – maybe it was sober and kind of defeated – and he just rang his bell with long steady swings of his arm. Every now and again a passerby dropped a nickel in his tin can. Continue reading
The Downtown Apocalypse Exchange was on the corner of Smoke Street and Mirror Avenue. Steel and glass rose out of the thoroughfare and knifed into the Paradise sky. Jim followed Rockefeller in through the revolving doors. Continue reading
The Book of Jim: Agnostic Parables and Dick Jokes from Lucifer’s Paradise – finally published. Took me a few more months than I thought it would, but it was worth it. The paperback is slick as hell, the kindle works great, the illustrations are fantastic. Really happy with it. If you’re a nook-head, the nook version will be available as soon as I can get it to work. Epub is a nightmare when it comes to images. Anyway, here are the amazon links to the paperback and kindle editions:
The stories are still floating around on the blog, free as ever. Metadirt Part 2 coming soon.