Rant Rave Review: Godzilla Minus One and Slaughterhouse-Five

I'm still alive (barely). Soon I shall have a new, revamped website, bt in the meantime, enjoy this Rant Rave Review of Godzilla Minus One and Slaughterhouse-Five.

Two sci-fi war stories. One is garbage. The other features a giant lizard smashing stuff. Get ready for metaphors about atomic war, pretentious use of time-travel, sexism, and a bit about anthropology.

Rant Rave Review: H.P. Lovecraft and Sinking City

It's like, a cyclopean abomination from black gulfs of non-Euclidean geometry... or something.

Today, I rave about Lovecraft and Sinking City (and briefly rant about Lovecraft Country). Get ready for pulpy cults, unfortunate cat names, cannibalism, soggy city streets, and framing a man for murder!

Rant Rave Review: Jimmy Akin's Mysterious World

It's like Unsolved Mysteries, but BETTER!

Today, I rave about Jimmy Akin's Mysterious World, a podcast featuring unsolved crimes, cryptids, fake mediums, real psychic spies, a great big bushy beard, and aliens (because it's always aliens).

Watch the show on Youtube

Visit the show's page on Star Quest

 ALSO! If you watch to the end of the video, there's a special ironic bonus of a clip I thought I'd edited out of the beginning of the video randomly appearing at the end of the video, right after I talked about learning to edit (I haven't learned, yet, ok?). But I already spent an hour uploading the video to YouTube, so it's staying, and dash the consequences!!!!

Rant Rave Review: The Maid by Nita Prose

It's, like, my triumphant return?

Today, I rant about The Maid, by Canadian editor/author Nita Prose. Featuring misleading blurbs, grating narration, one-dimensional characters, "heartwarming" murder, and all the "likes" that I've been saving up since last video!

Poem: What is This Nameless Fear

What is this nameless fear,
this dread,
that holds me in waking paralysis?
An incubus lurking in my shadow,
a nightmare just out of sight,
it seems to whisper of a coming calamity:
societal insanity raining down
inane judgements on my head.
Some unknown jury and executioner
sharpen their knives and axes,
licking blood off their teeth
in expectation of tasting my own.
If I stay silent, I will drown,
drawn under into their current,
always wary of being hooked,
netted, harpooned and pulled forth, writhing.
If I speak, and do not lie,
then I will burn in the pyre of their eyes,
their screams, their calumnies.
And if I lie—No.
I will not lie. And so, I choose to burn,
in blinding flames that cast
out the darkness in their minds.
If this dread is my doom,
then I will turn to face it,
name it,
and fear no more.