Saturday, December 30, 2017

Saturday, December 23, 2017

Merry Festivus

Rhombus gives an end of the year message.

Check out this episode!

Thursday, December 14, 2017

A Space Goat Carol

Written by Charles Dickens

Destroyed by Robot 1

Space Goat provided by the Lord Potato foundation.

This is literally the worst way to spend 3 hours I can imagine.  Don't listen to it.

Check out this episode!

Saturday, December 2, 2017

Thursday, November 30, 2017

National Not Writing Month

4000 words.

I am NEVER making a writing commitment when between situations again.

Saturday, November 18, 2017

Mommeries - Part 11

High School and Joining the Mormon Church

Check out this episode!

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

Day 1 - Word Count 81

Not looking good.  Psychic block from a potential job offer that is being delayed combined with other family situations are slowing me down.  I do traditionally write a small amount and then sleep on it before starting, but each day counts on this and I have dealt with this psychic block before.  This is not writer's block.  This is a refusal of the other parts of me that don't want to do this to suffer the pain writing always causes me with out a reason.

After the Decatur Book Festival....I know it isn't sales or potential popularity.

Really, its inertia and the desire to complete this final goal....but that isn't sufficient to get this done in the insanely tight time table.

Here's hoping something changes.

Monday, October 30, 2017

Certain Death, Small Chance of Success

15 years ago I started my first novel with hopes and a great deal of trepidation. three years later I managed to produce a pile of absolute shit.  but I was absolutely determined to do this and so I produced a second pile of shit and then a third book that was actually pretty good and a fourth book that I can't do anything with it because I wrote it with somebody who won't talk to me anymore, and then it's pretty good fifth book and then A sixth book that none of you have had a chance to read except for my mother and my wife. 

I have had professionals at World con tell me that I should actually give up science fiction writing and still produce book 6 as a result of national novel writing month two years ago.  since then I've had my worst fears confirmed it a physical way by the complete the lack of sales at the Decatur Book Festival.  I know for a fact that I am terrible at self marketing and that I just don't do a good job of selling my books.

any intelligent person would have already given up by now but the truth is that I promised myself I would do seven of these things and this is the last one I'm going to do.  right now I'm unemployed and not of the most high morale for a lot of reasons I sense it looks like my books will never actually have any measure of success and I'm going to be in a cycle of chronic employment and unemployment for the remainder of my days.

but there is such a thing as honor and I'm going to honor the past 15 years of myself in those years because I set a goal and I'm going to complete it or at least I'm going to do a damn good job of trying it so for a third time on Wednesday I will be starting National novel writing month again attempting to write Fruitloop and Frankenstein.

Here's Fun Storming The Castle.

Its likely to be the last time.

Saturday, October 28, 2017

Saturday, October 14, 2017

Our Story So Far

Personal stuff you don't care about, backstory that is largely irrelevant, lore of the fae that might get you killed ever saying it out loud, sharp and ironic political commentary that is only glossed over and a return to unsuccessful short stories no one ever cares about.

Followed by Potatoes and Pecans.

Check out this episode!

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

Preparations for Nanowrimo - Fruitloop and Frankenstein

So far preparations go well.  In case you were unaware, this is a big deal for a lot of reasons, not the least is that this will be #7 of my most important remaining Bucket List to write seven novels before I die.  

(#3 and #5 are on sale, #4 is in limbo with its cowriter not contacting me, #1 and #2 are kinna crap and #6 is still being edited)  I did a different genre for each so far (Space Opera, Action Thriller, Horror/Super Hero, Cyberpunk, Steam Punk, Urban Fantasy) and am now trying a seventh, Paranormal Romance.  Our heroes of the novel, Frankenstein (technically Frankenstein III) and Fruitloop are going well.  I am prepping notes and have the basics of the plot outlined.

Right now, I have a series of exercises that are in the Fantasy Fiction Formala by Deborah Chester to work out, and hope to have them done by Nov 1. 

Here's hoping.

Monday, October 2, 2017

The Woman With The Eyeball at the End of Her Finger

Hi there, I'm Rhombus Ticks. I wanted to tell you the story of my grandmother that she told me about what happened to her when she was a little girl, about the Woman with the Eyeball on her Finger. You must be careful what you wish for.

The old country in Louisiana is neither old, nor a country in the cosmic scale of things; certainly for a Fae or anywhere in the old world. But it is very old for this country, and the most remote of areas have things that were brought by the Huguenots fleeing persecution in France. Pound for Pound, 17th century France had more Fae interaction than any time or place on Terra except Germany and Ireland. So you can imagine that there some lingering bits and flotsam that came here.

The night sky was full of stars and bright was the moon as the young girl wished on the falling star. She was always so curious and no one would let her stay for anything. So she wished for an eye on the end of her finger, so she could see around corners. The sky flashed a brilliant shade of pink and gold and suddenly she realized it was the northern lights. She had seen that on Rudolph the Red Nosed reindeer. How was she to know how impossibly south they were? But there they were just the same.

There was a sharp prickling on her finger and this was no enchanted needle putting sleeping beauty to sleep. The pain was a short gift compared to the itching. It started out like a bug bite at first but then it kept lingering and lingering. She couldn't even sleep, and on through the next day it persisted. There were no lesions, no marks on the skin. No matter how many times she showed it to her parents asking them to take her to the doctor, they looked at it and told her she was being a hypochondriac. She was in a daze at school the first day. Exhaustion took her to sleep some the second night but she only got a few hours sleep and was still a zombie the next day. The itching would not stop. Itch a scritch a scritch a scritchy scratch. She slowly went a little bit bonkers, losing sleep and getting grouchy to all her friends. Even her pets started to drive her a little crazy so she kept them in one room in the house so she could keep an eye on them. Itch a scritch a scritch a scritchy scratch. She started rubbing it against the desk to make it feel better. It only helped a little bit at a time. It started to feel swolen but when anyone looked at it, they said they saw nothing. Finally, the lack of sleep made them take her to the doctor, who gave her some sugar pills and sent her home. It didn't help at all. Itch a scritch a scritch a scritchy scratch.

She woke up in the morning and panicked because her vision was blurred but as she started to flail her hands around in panic she made herself even more sick. As she slowed down a bit and closed her eyes, she realized she could still see! She had an eye on the end of her finger! She had an EYE on the end of her finger! She had an EYE. on the end. of. her. finger! She laughed hysterically and giggled and cried and accidentally poked herself in the finger eye as she rolled about in fits. "Ow!" She was not happy.

Grandma was so happy that she raced down the stairs and told great grandma who finally flipped her lid. She grabbed the little girl by the hair, dragged her around the house clockwise three times and then counterclockwise three times and then tossed her in the empty bath tub. "Now stay there until you can stop playing prison warden to all the animals in the house!"

The little girl lay there in the bathtub, shivering with delight and horror, determined to do her mother proud and stop herding the animals into the guest room. She didn't need to. She could watch them all the time now...with the eye on her fingeR!

She watched the animals for days; leaving school sometimes in the middle of the day much to the alarm of her teachers. She had always been such a good student with a sharp mind that they could not fathom her rebellion and they dare not tell her mother for fear of what she or the little girl's sisters might do to punish. And what started with the animals extended to the family. Grandma understood that the impulse to control the animals was a mirror from her sister's impulse to control the people. Father and Mother humored her, but all the other children obeyed from fear. Sister wanted all to be in order, and now, from around corners, hidden in shadowed halls, my grandmother as a little girl saw it all.

And the world was never the same.

She began to hear things, things that let her know her family were not quite normal. These are memories I had forgotten until now, the stories my grandmother told me, that were told to her, about the old country. About Carcosa. But the things she heard were not about that. I am sure that she heard a lot of things, but all she remembers hearing was the horrible things they said and thought about her that she had never known before. She was not well liked by anyone but her mother and even then, her mother had grown very cross with her because of the itch.

The world was not a very nice place. In fact, it was a terrible place, not some place she wanted to be at all. So she turned from the world and went away from it as far as she could, which for a 9 year old girl was not very far at all. So she did what any smart girl would do. She went farther and farther back into her mind, hiding from all of the evil things around her, running as far and as fast as she could. Grandmother hid in her dolls and her talking animals and her mysteries where the bad guys were always caught and good always prevailed. And everything was good….for a while.

The eye on her finger started to show her other worlds than the one she was used to; the dead, the fae, unreal worlds such as Mana and Gaia and even hints of Earth. Earth was the worst of all; its terrible banality and the shocking cruelty of Earthlings one to another was more than she could bear. It slowly began to drive her mad, more than all of the whispers of tentacles and flutes and fish scales could ever do. But she bore it well, and coped by keeping the animals in the guest room except for a single hour where she let them roll around on the lawn in the sunlight, which they loved.

She took up gardening, which she did until she was almost 70. She became quite good at it, building high walls to keep the cats inside when they were rolling about, and high enough fences that she could resist the temptation to poke her finger above the fence and spy at the neighboors. So many plants; both vegetables you could eat and flowers that you could smell. It was a wonderful place until she couldn’t care for it any more and the snakes and weeds and trash started to clog up the beautiful work that she had done.

I always loved the gloves she wore all the time. She eventually told me about the eye on her finger and she never showed it to me until she died. I wasn’t the one to wash and annoint her body, but during the wake I did go up to her gloved hand in the casket to see if the eye was really there. I still don’t know. There were calous marks on her finger with a tattoo of a closed eye lid. It felt like a finger when I moved my finger tip over it.

But I will tell you this. As I moved away, I heard a very faint sound, and as I returned to my seat I could not help but think that I was being watched. In truth in fact, that feeling never really went away. Even now, I wonder if somewhere in some world I cannot see, the eye on the end of her finger is there, watching me, listening, learning my secrets. Hello Grandma. I miss you.

Saturday, September 30, 2017

Cow Level

This is it folks.  What you have been waiting for.  Or not, but the secrets of the universe are revealed. Or rather a secret.  Argueably two.

Check out this episode!

Saturday, September 9, 2017

Mommeries - Part 6

Not Moonboots, Capes, Fighting and Neighboorhood bullies

Check out this episode!

Monday, September 4, 2017

There was a Human Statue Sculpture of The Muse

In Bronze and as we walked by and dropped a dollar in her box she gave us a slip of paper that said

"At the end of day, we can endure much more than we think."

This might have been the end of Terra, Mana and Gaia, of Lasers Against the Darklord, The Boy w The dragon taboo...

But Heir of Sunfire is written and just need polish.  That work will not be wasted.

Fruitloop and Frankenstein is the seventh novel, a life goal to be written this November.

Mommeries needs at least 20 more hours to record and put in the podcast.

So a second shard of TC "died" and he lets some other guy, Rhombus (and Emmit) fail and keep writing while he moves on with his life.


And Aloha.

Sunday, September 3, 2017

Saturday, September 2, 2017

What do you do

When you know tomorrow will be devastating? When you know the majority if not all the books will be unsold but you are surrounded by constant vibrance and inspiration at dragoncon w stories that must be told?

Soul crushing despair.  That's what.

And supposedly you carry on.


Friday, September 1, 2017

Decatur Book Festival

Spiders in the Sugar Factory
Grenademan vs the Zombies
Have Name, Will Travel

are all on sale for $8 at the Emerging Authors Tent in the Decatur Book Festival

Saturday, August 26, 2017

Mommeries - Part 5

"Little Eyes with Paint Like a Racoon...hehehehehe."

The Art of Pinching

Check out this episode!

Saturday, August 12, 2017

Friday, August 11, 2017

what is art?

reading a fascinating book called The Art of asking by Amanda Palmer and I think it's time I honestly assess what kind of an artist I am. Lots of people do art for different reasons and there are some who steal the work of others or try to intimidate others through our door turn their gifts into very dark and very destructive purposes. From a purely subjective standpoint or it can be a lot of different things to a lot of different people; whether that be literature, poetry, visual art, film or even performance or dance.

but the thing is that ultimately what makes art art ease the subjective lens through which our reality or an imagined reality is displayed for everyone else. Because the experience and the motive of the artists and their life story as much a part of that lens fabrication is what is filtered through it motivation and style are definitely part of an artist's work.  I am not a conventional artist and never have been and probably never will be.  I am a real artist simply because of the fact that I had been paid for it, I seek to constantly better my skill, and in my work has been regarded with esteem by peers who I know to be a fact are what might be considered much more conventional artist...

but what I'm probably never really going to have our fans, certainly not hardcore fans so when I listen to a book like the art of asking which basically involves an artist bonding with the community that is interested in their body of work I find myself wondering should I even do it? And the truth of the matter is of course I should but should I adjust my work to Simply doing things that amuse me or should I still continue to do things that are at least semi comprehensible to other people...

I don't have an answer to that question.  the question of should I give up writing at all, which was suggested to me a number of years ago at Worldcom by so-called experts, has been answered with the definitive no.  and very soon I'll be writing my 7th novel which will complete a self set goal.  I fully intend to keep riding after that although how much writing I don't know.

the real question for me is, should I even continue prose writing at all? my poetry is good personal and very often the most compulsive thing that I have to do is an artist even though I have also worked in visual medium and in prose writing.  but I must admit I enjoy my prose writing even if it's incredibly painful, I enjoy thinking about it I enjoy thinking what to do with it and I enjoy pretty much everything about it even if very often it's very much a love-hate relationship.  very soon I'm going to be selling 20 copies of my book in the Decatur Book Festival and given previous experience with most of my Artistic Endeavors I fully expect very little.  an attempt to get the book spiders in the Sugar Factory signed by the Fantastic artist who did the art for it might trigger to buy the booksome of her fans I don't know.

but the thing is is that if no one's actually going to buy these things and it is purely for me wouldn't it make more sense to stick with ebooks and continue to turnout material that I don't have to pay to edit or pay to make covers for or ever dream of hiring my friend to do the audio books, and the answer is I don't know.  because the truth is I enjoy the work that my work inspires in other artists in fact it's the greatest satisfaction I get.  and it has more meaning to me than simply going to some artists and say draw me a pink spider with a sunset in the background in a world full of toilet clouds... it has meaning because someone else's life was touched by mine through my art even if I had to pay them to do it.

maybe I should pay people to start reading my books I don't know... for most people that would not only be dishonest at a certain level but economically stupid but on the other hand if I actually enjoy it who the fuck is anyone to say otherwise?

Tuesday, August 8, 2017

[Script] FULL Parts is Part Act 1 Scene 1

Dekker is asleep in his suit on the bed. Empty bottles of beer and wine and liquor surround the bed while the bed itself is pristine. Pictures of his family line the walls.

Get your ass up and find him.
Or you’re fired.

Dekker shudders and groans.

I want to tell you that this is about the evidence.

He slowly starts to get up.  He picks up his phone and looks at it a moment.

But that would be a lie.

Decker starts to type

Eat shit and die.

Dekker looks at the phone.

His eyes look like he wants to do something but he just can't do it.

Dekker's thumb lingers on the send button.

Having morals sucks.
Especially if you are a cop.

Dekker deletes the message and does not send it.

Decker stumbles into the bathroom and turns on the shower.

Saturday, August 5, 2017

20 Questions to Big T

Robot 1 asks Big T some questions about his mercinary duty guarding the Terran constitutional convention in Austin.

Check out this episode!

Monday, July 31, 2017

Hitler Luck

There are some beings that have more luck than they ought.  You can slice it any way you like; the guy who survives getting hit by lighting 27 times, the guy who wins the mega lottery six times, the guy who survives a fall from 10,000 feet.  But from time to time, there is a kind of luck that allows someone with a surprising collection of bad ideas to be able to say exactly the right kind of thing in the worst kind of way.  There are a number of people like this in history; Rasputin and Hitler come to mind.  But there are many others.

The important thing to understand about Hitler Luck is that it isn't magic; it's a purely Earther phenomena, and it manifests itself in the reverse of the way that Earthers are able to collapse lower probability quantum wave forms.  This sophism can be positive in certain people who change the world; people who believe so much that they can succeed that they prove everyone else around them, but even then, they have a sense of other, of empathy that allows them to believe that others are real human beings and as such they can be affected by the luck of others or memetics no matter how strong their will.

Some people are so wrapped up in themselves, that they become a legend in their own mind.  That's  why they have mirrors on Terra; we had a Hitler and a Rasputin because the stories of yours changed our by magic.  Not the same story; Terran Hitler got punched a lot, but he was just as indestructible due to magic, not luck.

How many times did people try to kill Hitler? A lot.  And not one of them succeeded.  The people around him were not so indestructible, which is why the Allies were able to win WWII.  The key to defeating Hitler Luck isn't violence.  You can never kill someone so able to adjust probability to match their expectations; you collapse it by making them do it themselves.  There are a lot of ways to do this; taking their toys or sufficient defeat.  But a tried and true way is humiliation, humor and sarcasm.

If you mock someone bestowed with Hitler Luck sufficiently, you can get them to become their own worst enemy.  They can go to their own bunker and take care of the misery they inflict on everyone else themselves, but the key is, you have to be relentless.  Some well meaning, but idiotic fools will chide you for being 'mean' or 'not sufficiently both sided' but don't relent, not even for a moment.  Someone with Hitler Luck could destroy the world, your country, hell, not just your world, all the worlds.  With out stories the universe would collapse and how can that happen without new stories in the font of all stories?

So mock on citizens of Earth, mock on.

Saturday, July 29, 2017

Mommeries - Part 3

More about the life of her father and her own experiences.

Check out this episode!

Thursday, July 27, 2017

[Script] Sentinel Chronicles - Parts is Parts

Dekker is asleep in his suit on the bed. Empty bottles of
beer and wine and liquor surround the bed while the bed
itself is pristine. Pictures of his family line the walls.
Get your ass up and find him.
Or you’re fired.
Decker shudders and groans.
I want to tell you that this is
about the evidence.
He slowly starts to get up.
Captain is yelling at Decker, pointing to a news paper that
says "Famous Military Scientist Dead" with a sub title that
says, "Course of the War May Be Irreparably Damaged"
I want to tell you that this is
about justice.
Do not let Dekker make the evidence
of this public. We will richly
reward you.
But that would be a lie. The
Captain works for Syndicate. Hell,
half the force does and the other
half secretly work for the holy
rollers that started all this.
Decker nods ’listening’ to the captain yell at him with a
jaded and obviously disgusted look on his face.
Dozens of bioroid parts lay strewn about in pieces, blood
everywhere. Lying on top of them, the face down corp of the
doctor sits in a pool of blood as well. Dekker turns him
over while a drone hovers above taking pictures with
intermittent flashes.
Behold the late grate Dr.
Henderson, savior of humanity.
Bioroid Troops salute and march as Dr Henderson smiles and
presents them to an impressed bunch of military officials.
The man who would save humanity by
replacing it.
Henderson waves his arms and shows a huge line of gestation
tubes with bioroids in it.
How did that old commercial go?
What parts? Chicken Parts. Parts
is parts. People parts. Something
like that. Henderson’s just so
much meat now.
Dekker bends down and examines something interesting that he
sees on the doctor’s wrist.
A massive crowd is running in panic.
Decker is holding his wife and two children. They get
separated in the crowd. His wife and children go down.
I was there when the bastards
attacked. Hell, I believed the
lies just like everyone else. I
lost my family didn’t I? Ra Ra. Yay
us. I lost everything that day.
Decker bends down and sees a bar code tattoo on the Doctor’s
Decker recognizes that this is something important.
He puts the sample of skin and the bar code in the evidence
bag and zips it up.
Captain looks at the evidence and a manila folder that says
Like I said.
The Captain and Dekker are arguing. Decker points to the
report which shows the tattoo and a large picture of the
same barcode in an official Syndicate board meeting.
This isn’t about evidence. Or
justice. It’s about pretending
like we’re winning when we’re not.
It’s about money. It’s about not
being willing to admit that we made
something better than we are.
Something that doesn’t lie cheat or
steal the same way we do.
The Captain takes the report and burns it in front of
Decker. Decker tries to grab the report and the Captain
pulls a gun.
Decker pulls his own gun.

You’re fired Decker.

Truth is going to come out. You
can’t hide this. Not something this

Decker punches the captain.

Get out Dekker. You’re fired.
Badge and gun. Get out.

The truth didn’t come out. They
got away with it.
Maybe we are all just parts. But
I’m more than the sum of mine. I
know the truth. And I’ll tell
anyone who will listen. And that’s
got to matter for something, right?

Monday, July 17, 2017

The Titanic Cinematic Universe

I have often spoke about how stories on Terra aren't "As good" and that we're just not story tellers like folks from Earth.  The truth is, I use the part of TC's Earther brain to take my ideas and turn out the words.   I figured a concrete example of just how bad it might be might be the Titanic Cinematic universe.  Some examples of movies around the original (which is actually more or less a mirror of the Earth version plus a lot more sex and nudity in the car):

Titanic 2 - A well meaning WWII shipping magnate tries to use the blueprints of the Titanic to ship weapons to troops in England.   Sadly, the Titanic 2 is shot down, and our brave American and the USO entertainer heiress are lost at sea.

Titanic 3 - During the cuban missile crisis, Cuban, in an attempt to build the American blockade, builds a ship using the Titanic blue prints ...but gets sunk, nearly starting WW3.  The doomed American / Cuban love affair does not go well.

Mr Limpit 2000 -  A revival of the classic but it is revealed that Limpit was actually descended from a dolphin that tried to save Jack on the original titanic.

Avatitanic - Unable to get his dream made due to the awful performance of Titanic 2, Terra's James Cameron made a space liner called the Titanic that orbitted around Pandora.  The doomed love affair between Sigourney Weaver and the Face Hugger was disrupted by evil cat people.

Titanic 4 - Set in the 80's, this cross marketing feature included Jaws, Predator, Aliens, and Batman and is viewed as a cult classic.  It also bombed, primarily because of the inclusion of Punky Brewster as a vampire slayer.

Titanic Forever (Titanic 5) - Necromancers raise the Titanic as a Ghost Ship where all of the characters from the previous Titanic fight off the Phantom from Phantom 9, Love Isn't Going Away Anytime Soon; wherein the Phantom Cinematic universe permanently became part of the Titanic one.

Namor - Fox held onto the liscense for this and made an X-men movie wherein they used their powers to raise the titanic and attack Atlantis.  Namor stopped them.

Saturday, July 15, 2017

Thursday, July 6, 2017

Thoughts on Scripts

I have several ideas for films with other people, right now the leading candidate for me to do next is the Beatles script I wrote and put up earlier here. I owe a friend of mine a pass on his script for The Sentinel Chronicles, but I don't know that I'll put that one up here.  The full pass he's asked on his Noir script I'll put up either in the two minute form or the long form I put up, likely next.

But I am also thinking of a solo script and solo film project to resharpen my editing skills.  The problem is, doing a movie by yourself is...weird unless done right. I  have one idea about multiple personailities warring on themselves but that has been done to death...BUT...this one might have enough of my own quirks that it might be doable.


Wednesday, July 5, 2017

Humans of Four Worlds

Any good biologist will tell you that just because species look alike, doesn't mean they are.  Indeed, in some instances, those creatures that have the same phenotype (appearance) have a radically different genotype.  There are a number of reasons for this, including evolution's choices are sometimes limited in certain niches; probability is just going to go a certain way sometimes.  Other times it is deliberate in an attempt to capture the shape of a more deadly, more dominant species in any attempt to use their power as cover against potential predators.

The Four World are not even close to all of the potential worlds that they are, but they are 'compass points' by which the terrifying inhabitants of Outer Fae behave, and thus Inner Fae and thus Terra and Gaia took their axioms regarding all human worlds in the immediate vecinity.  Each world and its situation has given the humans of that world tremendous abilities, despite their similar appearances.

Terra: Growing up so close to Inner Fae, it was totally logical for these humans to interbreed with them.  As such, the humans of Terra have tremendous magical capability and the ability to generate off spring with most anything.  There are half fae, half vampires, half ghosts and many other sundry such things running around Terra.  This also means that as creatures of magic, they tend to be great story tellers but not the best makers of tales, so the same stories get used and reused many different ways.

Gaia: Their proximity to the great old ones makes their sanity fragile, since their ability to self decieve and find hope where there is none is legendary.  Humans of Gaia are able to also stop 'mandelbrot probabilities' before they happen; postponing inevitable events.  They are also tremendously vulnerable to mutation, corruption and mind control. Any form of cloaking works well on the inhabitants of Gaia.

Mana: The inhabitants of Mana live in a world where their belief actually shapes their reality.  Stories can be very dangerous for them, because while they are not story crippled like Terrans, they are not as great a story tellers as the inhabitants of Earth.  However, once they believe a story, their belief increases the quantum possibilities of it, making even the most fantastic or unbelievable thing more real.  This at one time made their world a fascinating, deadly and wonderous place.  Now it is among the most boring in all creation.

Earth: Humans from Earth have the highest quantum wave form probability; more than all three other worlds combined.  They are more 'real' and if they are given reason to disbelieve something can collapse the quantum wave form of a thing just by observing it.  They are also master story tellers, and if a story from earth spreads to Mana, it can become real in many many worlds; especially Terra or Gaia.  They are only able to master invisible or unseen magics however, since the slightest variation of their observed beliefs often causes them not to be.

Friday, June 30, 2017

Mommeries - Part 1

This podcast is about the biological mother of TC Ricks, the body of whom Rhombus occasionally inhabits starting with her parents and some history thereof.

Check out this episode!

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

Monday, May 29, 2017

News of Four Worlds - Squirell Problems

Robot One and Robot Two have voice problems due to a bundle of Squirells dressed as TC that sneak into the Podcast booth.

Check out this episode!

Saturday, May 13, 2017

Four Worlds Podcast - May 13 2017

News of the Resistance on Terra, Earth, Mana and Gaia.


Mostly on Terra and Earth.

Check out this episode!

Wednesday, May 3, 2017

So I'm not sure what I should do here

I am going to do the podcast, but I am going to merely revert to the old style of simply updating from time to time when doing things.  I do intend to begin writing more and that might inspire more posts, but for now, I will do what I do as I do it.

I did, however want to share this awesome thing Bernie posted on facebook.

I will also start up posts on the podcasts every two weeks I think, though be warned there will be political crap in there.

Sunday, April 16, 2017


EP Blingermeyer starts the Four World's Resistance News ...thing

Check out this episode!

Sunday, April 9, 2017

Emergency Salvage

Thanks to the monstrous and draconian laws instituted by Vladimir Putin on Livejournal, where my poetry blog has been I have had to conduct an emergency salvage in xml only of my poetry here.  The original blog, with formating and context is here.  While it lasts.

Until it is destroyed (since I will now be upping my criticism of putin and the Russian Kleptocrqacy) you can see it here.

Saturday, March 11, 2017

Friday, March 3, 2017

Looking Like That Actor Who Played Satan Has Its Perks

So like, the other day, people stopped me on the street and said, "Excuse me, may I sell my soul to you?"


"Well, I've felt that my life has very little meaning, so I would like to improve it by placing a second mortgage on my soul."


"So that's a yes?"


"Wonderful! I'd like a pony."

"An actual pony?"

"Yes please."



I nod, "Sure."  There is a pause, "But you do know I have to make it look coincidental right? Don't want God to get suspicious or anything."

"Oh sure."

"It'll come.  In the mean time, enjoy the fringe benefits."

"Fringe benefits?"

"Oh you know, better food, better air, better sex."


"Oh yes.  Absolutely."

"Wow, thanks Satan."

"No problem."

Thursday, March 2, 2017

[Script] Hot Tin Lizzie Goes Up and Out - Page 3

Scene: Lizzie takes the cat in her hands and walks into an abandon compound, filled with half repaired or broken machines and cars.

Scene: Lizzie walks up to a house in the middle of the compound, opening the screen door and trying to be as quiet as she can.  She looks around carefully, and then slowly closes it behind her.

Scene: She enters through the kitchen and turns right down a hall full of pictures of the family smiling, several generations including several people in modern clothing though most of the recent ones show people in more and more stark clothing.

Scene: She comes into a room with her father who is snoring and sitting in a chair with TV shows from the 1950's playing in the background.

Lizzie: Dad?


Lizzie: (Louder) DAD?

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

[Script] Hot Tin Lizzie Goes Up and Out - Page 2

Scene: Lizzie slowly works her way out of the cables and large vats of chemicals.  The voice over stops as she leaves the garage which is very cleverly concealed among the timbers and aluminum siding.

Scene: Lizzie walks through a very desolated town, almost empty. A few people look around, many of the men are missing limbs and all the women are frightened in one way or another, all of them.

Scene: Lizzie stops and finds a small kitten making mewling sounds.  At first she ignores it, everyone else is.  She walks past.

Scene: Lizzie turns around a corner and then stops.

Lizzie: Shit.

Scene: Lizzie turns back around and looks it over for a few moments and then picks it up as she resumes her walk home.

Monday, February 27, 2017

The Candy King Can

I have already mentioned that what happens in Earth is reflected in Terra.  So much so, that to fight President Polyester, EP Blingermeyer has begun to recruit some individuals to go to Earth to deal with President Tinkle...simply to help us.  (Terra is kind of incredulous that Earth could vote for something like that without the Toxic Waste dumps used by Polyester, and TC's jokes about Meth aside, these people  But there are other ways that it manifests.

One of them is the Candy King, once absconded to Outer Fairy and changed in all kinds of interesting ways, given knowledge and secrets about how to make sugar and confections that defied imagining.  He rescued a tribe of Orange Dwarves from a hidden island in the North Sea and had them build a most magical Factory.  He's known throughout the world and at one point opened his reclusive compound to a select group of seven children.  Those that weren't eaten were given a life time get the idea.

What's fascinating is how much Emmit has begun looking at this story lately.  I think he's planning on some kind of poem like he did with Odysseus and Fenris.  Lovely subject matter but the Candy King is not quite as...whimsical as his Terran counter part.  I'm not sure people will appreciate all the blood and a graphic description of what really happened to those children that failed the test.

Thursday, February 23, 2017

[Script] Hot Tin Lizzie Goes Up and Out - Page 1

Scene - Lizzie is working on a something in her garage.

Voice Over: Hi.  I'm Lizzie.  I'm working on a space ship.

Lizzie reaches for something deep inside of the machine and grunts.

Voice Over: Why? Well, in 2045 in the deep of Appalacia, a woman my age has three choices; get Joyed, go west or go up.  And not many people go up these days.  The Greaters have put a mine field two hundred miles wide that goes all the way from the Great South Wall to the Great North Wall.  No thanks.

Lizzie screams with mild frustration as some oil splashes her on the face.

Voice Over: And I like sex too much to be joyed.  I don't sleep around, but its my choice.  Daddy moved us out here for a reason.

Lizzie stops, pensive, looking out the garage as she grabs a rag and rubs her eye.

Voice Over: Daddy.  He isn't what he used to be.  He's a good man but Noma has him wrapped around her little finger.  He was just so lonely after Mama left.

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

Kinds of Changlings

The practice of Fae folk nabbing hapless mortals is as old as Fae itself, which is to say, older than time.  But there are a lot of different kinds of changlings.  The most 'classic' example of someone from Fae stealing a human child and replacing it with a Fae to be raised as their own is the most widely known and also occurred but even then, there are different kinds of replacements.

Inner Fae: Sometimes the royals would hide a member of a royal house to be raised as their own among the common folk.  Before the Great Sealing, this happened all the time, and in most of the fairy tales where the royal was raised by common folk, that actually occurred on Terra, not in Inner Fae.  Inner Fae was fantastically dangerous, and most common folk had at least a little magic not the least of which, how to tell if someone had stolen their child and replaced it with a noble.  To be clear, most common folk before High King Fiddleback were more than happy to have a royal take one of their children or lie with their daughter (or son) since it was a chance at great wealth down the line.

Middle Fae: This is what most people think of as Fae.  These enchanted children never return while the fae eventually finds out what it is and makes its way to the other side of the veil.  Humans make great servants for Fae because they are so easily enchanted and controlled, and usually the combined contracts, treaties and inter tribal rivalries give even the lowest dew drop pixie rights that a human simply does not have.  At least a Terran that is, since some kinds of fae ascribe rights to the inhabitants of Inner Fae.

Outer Fae:  This strange and chaotic place is pure magic.  Humans taken here are often simply incapable of dealing with or understanding reality when they return to it.  God help any family that hosts a creature from Outer Fae.  Ever see the Children of the Corn? That's a  mild case at best.

It Never Happened: One of the cruelest tricks played by the Fae is simply to implant a suspicion that their own child has been replaced when no such substition ever occurred.  This is done very often to those who abuse guest right or are ungracious hosts.  It is particually reserved for those that call them satanic in some form or another.

One Baby For Another: Sometimes Fae just like to change children for other children.  This is a particular favorite of theirs with next door neighbors, where, as the child ages large, incredibly stupid males think that their women have been unfaithful.

Tuesday, February 21, 2017

[Script] Hot Tin Lizzie Goes Up and Out

Script - Hot Tin Lizzie Goes Up and Out

Lizzie - When you're a woman in the year 2045, one of three things happens to you; you get Joyed (where they cut off your ability to enjoy sex per the Virtuous Women Act of 2023), you flee to California or you go to Space, but Space X has been outlawed in the US for 10 years.  Lizzie aims to build her own ship.

Daddy - Daddy was smart enough to move them to Kentucky when they started seriously enforcing the VWA, but now that they are using robot docs, even the back of beyond isn't safe.  Daddy isn't what he used to be but Lizzy would still like to take him with her.

Noma - "NotMama" - Daddy's second wife.  Not Mama is a collaborator.  She has always believed in the VWA and being Great.  She's also been Joyed and is secretly rather bitter.

Lazodela - NotMama's second daughter, looking forward to voluntarily complying with the VWA.  She thinks Lizzie bears a striking resemblance to Lilith in the Great Network's potrayal of Kinda Near Eden.

Mayor Rob - All about being Great.   Hates California.  Hates new things.  Hates Daddy.  Wants to marry Lizzie.

President Musk - President of the Orbital Republic.  Routinely broadcasts to Earth.

Monday, February 20, 2017


So after some astral projection, trying to find realities that were not stupid enough to elect an echo of President Tinkle (We elected President Polyester in Terra, more on him and his Disco Zombies later), I took another look at Wonderbreadland, where TC's soul had been stuck for a few decades, permanently warping him in a negative way.  Turns out that Wonderbreadland doesn't call itself that, but actually called Mana.  Most of the cities in the New World have Book of Fred names like Washingtoniaha, New York Cityahemla, Salt Lake Cityiaha, and Philidelphia.  Everyone is happy, by design.  As children, they have practiced a particular form of brain surgery perfected by the Reformed Egyptians on their world removing a small amount of their frontal lobe reducing their ability to judge reality.  So they can turn anything that they don't like off like a light switch.

But say what you will about Mana, it didn't elect President Tinkle.  Right now, their President is President White Horse, owner of the largest chain of used car dealerships in the United States and is single handledly having been attributed to saving the constitution.  For over a hundred and fifty years, they have had a special ceremony where their constitution is dangled by a thread over a fire pit, only to have it saved by their President and Prophet.  Mana is also unique in that magic works quite well there (though only Monotheistic magic, good or evil) and that time travel is quite regular.  What their president declares that they believe is changed by a dedicated band of secret followers known as the Gadianton Nazarines.  They travel back in time with their magic tennis shoes and make sure that whoever needs killing is dealt with so that they never even existed.

The reason they never elected a President Tinkle or a President Polyester is because both of them were smothered in the crib before they were more than a day old.

Friday, February 17, 2017


by Emmit Other

So I said to myself
I said Hey Honey
Its not the size
Its how you use it
And if you're going to spend time 
In the basement garage attic
Of the collective unconcious
You'd better know the house rules
Don't take the leftovers in the fridge man
So if you're gonna do this
Do it right
Or jack
back over again
we'll turn you round and around
Until you do it again and again
Doctor Strange had it right
Don't bring time to the timeless
Unless you're prepared to win the spork fight
You're gone john
you're wiped
We've got your number
You are measured
Expecto Exacto Patronus
These are not the droids you're looking for
Make your time
That entry is not valid
You have been disconnected
Good bye

Thursday, February 16, 2017

Tastes Like Chicken

It is a known, but highly distrubing fact that to the Humans of Terra and Inner Fairy, talking animals tastes better than their non talking counter part.  The infamous Rue de Chair is a street of corrals, pens, farms and restaurants in Inner Fairy which caters to breeding, raising and butchering talking animals.  While cows, chickens and pigs were the most popular attractions, they also included the occasional dog, horse, seal, cat, mouse or fruitbat.  This phenemonea seems entirely restricted to talking mammals; talking birds are largely the same.  Why then did the Rue de Chair raise talking chickens in addition?

Because everyone wanted to try talking chicken as a comparison to everything else.  As an interesting side note, inhabitants of Earth find talking animals to taste like ink or film or air depending on what form of story medium they most prefer.  Indeed, it was extensive expirmentation on the chemical residue of talking animals compared to animals from Terra, Mana, Gaia and Earth that led to a discovery of the infusion of not just magic but also story that caused them to have a dash of reality.

The inhabitants of Gaia, curiously enough, find the taste of talking animals vile and toxic.  Too much blood or flesh of a talking animal causes them to begin to have traits of the very animals they are consuming which leads many to believe the creation of fish men, pig men or goat men might actually do to the over consumption of such flesh by inhabitants at one time.  The less said about the inhabitants of Mana and their consumption of such flesh the better.

Thursday, January 19, 2017

These are the Words

by the 8th part of the soul of TC that went to hell a few years ago and let Rhombus in from time to time.

What is there to say that has not been said?

This darkness we summon now
This closing of the lid of the divine Eye of Providence
This curse we invoke upon ourselves
A less perfect union
Divided, Completely Divisible, Two Nations
This land has shattered the unsolited bargain it has made with itself
The Arc of Justice has had its back broken
And the fanfare for the common man is played with a kazoo
As Washington Burns
And will keep smoldering in the hell we all now dwell in
For is not hell or heaven the people you are with?
And are not so many responsible?
The fingers to point
And the harbingers all cacophanying against themselves
We few
We happy few
Who have an exit plan
To nowhere
For this tiny space ship earth
Is now piloted by the cast of Jackass
And has been for some time
But the arrogant and the ignorant guffaw and believe themselves enlightened
Even now they believe they are effective
Against the Long Bow
They bring a Spork to a Nuke Fight
Can this Miasma be turned?
Oh yes
Oh heavens yes
But it will not be with your refridgerator magnet philosophy horatio
It will be the herald of a new dawn
Not the Armstrong Spacesuit ripped in the vacuum of space
Full of holes and blasphemies
It shall be the temple of the kindest storm
It shall be in the eye of the hurricane
It shall be in the thralls of the voice of the City of Books
It shall be heard in the canyons great and small
These broken cities of ours shall rise up
When the new herald arrives
And on that day
Shall you know joy
But that day is not this day
For on this day
All men
All women
All races
All creeds
All nationalities
All of humanity
Should bow their heads in shame
May the stars heap the scorn upon us that we so richly deserve.
For we have failed.