Frederick The Cairn Terror by Earl B Morris

I realize the nature of this publication and it's internet webbing is primarily of the Science Fiction and unicorn nature, and I came on board in spite of that fact. I was originally hired for my expert knowledge in the field of comic book reading, however once the editors discovered my prowess with a compumax I was relegated duties such as mashing buttons for a google, and bloggeling. Well, "Don't put your mouth on that unless you want to get sick," as my mother would say.

Today I had intended to write about my two favorite heroes, Little Lotta & Captain Vyom, but recently I've been having very emotionally trying times with my little dog Frederick that necessitated my seeking the help of a mystic. I have taken the liberty of posting our communications via my bloggle, rather than my original subject, in the hopes that my shedding light on this most sensitive of topics may help others in the same predicament.




Dear Sirs,

I have a seven year old Cairn Terrier named Frederick who I've had since he was a puppy. He recently started showing signs of sexual aggression toward me that have gotten worse in the last few months. The aggression borders on harassment, but so far it hasn't been anything physical, just a sort of vibe he's been sending me. I am starting to enjoy his company less and less, even to the point of not letting him sleep under the covers with me anymore.
I'm writing to enlist the aid of a pet psychic in the hopes that our relationship can get back to normal. Fredricks always been a little "macho" and developed at an early age, but until recently his sexual prowess has never been directed at me. My fears of being mentally and physically harassed by him prevent me from even doing my daily routines like morning Pilates without locking him in the bathroom.
Freddy did start to act out a little after his most recent overnight trip to the vet, do you see anything here? Should I have him neutered?
I'm getting a little desperate.

Thank you so much for your time,

Earl B Morris




Hi,

I did not read past the words "the seven year old terrier" because I ask people not to send me any details in advance.Part of the way I know that I have tuned in to your pet in a reading is by describing the pet whether it be a cat a dog a large animal the color of its fur or whatever. Additionally, I am not an email reader and only receive information when I am live in session with you. Trying to recollect what you have sent in an email in a reading makes it very difficult for me to stay in a channeling state and disrupts the reading. This is why I ask that you not send any information and why I did not read the rest of your email.

If you would like a reading healing for your pet, please go to the order a reading page and fill out the scheduler. Each reading is for one pet. Please take the time to read the first page of my web site as well as the pet page. Once the scheduler is sent you will receive instructions how to prepare for the reading as well as a confirmation of a time.

I look forward to reading for you.
Brightest blessings,
Nancy




Dear Sir,

Since you do not read emails, there is probably no reason for me to write this, but I will use this letter as emotional release if nothing else.
Your missive was received too late. Frederick made his move last night. I decided to give him one last shot at sleeping in the same bed with me and behaving himself, and his sexuality got the better of him.
I fear the damage to our relationship is irreversible, and see no alternative to selling him for breeding to a Connecticut puppy mill. Perhaps there he can exercise his "energy."

I only regret that I could not make contact with you sooner.

Regretfully,
Earl B Morris




If you are not going to order a reading kindly do not contact me. Again, I did not read your email beyond the first sentence. Again, I am NOT one who can psychically channel off of an email.

Take care,
Nancy
www.seaintuit.com
"Working in unison with Angels to heal people and pets"
If you would like to make a donation please click here: Donate




Dear Sir,

Brightest blessings upon you. I will have no further need of your services. I have taken the advice of my great aunt and began allowing Frederick to sleep with her instead. They both seem very happy with this arrangement.

Sincerely,
Earl B Morris

My Troubles with Beer by Earl B Morris

I am blogging this week, not about science or fiction or any of the derivative subjects those who attend comic book conventions and watch "The Twilight Zones" seem to be so fascinated by, but rather about the rather alarming lack of respect shown to myself and my great aunt by a national brewing company recently.

I have included the letters I wrote, and the responses written by a woman calling herself "Mary," in the body of this blog, by "cutting and pasting," a technique which necessitates the mashing of up to two "mouse" buttons at various times, and which is far too complicated for the average computer neophyte to understand. My letters are in a "normal" font, while the responses are in an "italian" font, thus they may be told apart from one another. I don't want to bore the reader with the details of how this is accomplished, but if someone has an interest they may send me an "electronic" mail, making sure to put "italian font" in the subject space.



Dear Sirs,

I am writing to voice my complaints about your new anti-Semite advertising campaign.
I only recently started drinking "real" beer (last summer in fact, at a folk dancing workshop) and over time have learned to enjoy the musky smell and rather giddy feelings that accompany a fine glass. Recently, I purchased a pack of six bottles of your "Boston Ale" to bring home to share with my dog Lily while we watched "Dancing with the Stars" together. We were halfway through a glass, when I glanced at the bottle and noticed the label proudly proclaimed itself part of the "Jewmaster's Collection!"
I was flabbergasted! To insinuate that after thousands of years of punishment and persecution the Jews needed a "Master" and that master would be the clearly Irish Catholic "Samuel Adams" is outrageous, and frankly very offensive! I am 1/8 Hebrew, and feel quite certain that my forefathers are rolling in their graves to think that their progeny would be helping to further the blatantly hateful campaign of a beer company.
This is one Jew who does NOT need a "Master" and will NOT be purchasing any further six-bottle packs of your product.

Sincerely,
Earl B Morris

P.S. I have purposefully not included my home address or phone number in this email, for fear of a hateful reprise on the part of your company!



Dear Earl,

Thank you for writing to us at Samuel Adams and for allowing us to respond. I think there has been a misunderstanding. We have a collection of beer styles that are call the BREWmasters Collection, a brewmaster being a certified brewer. They are an assortment of beers that fall into this collection for their distinguished taste and style.

We apologize for any misunderstanding, and are unsure if your label was a typo or if perhaps you just read it wrong. Please let us know if there is anything else.

Sincerely,

Mary
The Boston Beer Company
75 ********** St.
Boston, MA 02116



Gentleman,

Rest assured I am no fool. I speak two languages including English, and attended the School of Design in Yuma, Arizona for over seven years. While I was touched by your letter, I feel certain that you would not impugn my dignity by assuming I would "read it wrong!"
However, let’s move past the obvious, your anti-Semite slogans, and into the more sublime;
My research into the life of Samuel Adams, through most of the evening yesterday, revealed that he has little or no Jewish blood in his lineage. Perhaps it was simply an error on your part to name a collection of beer for him, thus totally ignoring an element of society that has been crucial to both the entertainment field, and the world of finance. Perhaps you can attempt to rectify this oversight.
A few suggestions:

1: Change the name of your product to "Samuel Adamstein", this way he would still be recognizable as our beloved historical figure, but also would be a nod to a large segment of the drinking population!

2: Change his first name to "Chaim". "Chaim Adams Beer" has a nice ring to it, and the ladies would LOVE IT!

C: Omit "Samuel Adams" Completely and name the beer for other more loved Jewish historical figures. Perhaps a well known sports figure?

Either of these three idea’s would be enough for my great-aunt and I to start drinking your beer again, and probably many other men and their great-aunts as well.
I look forward to hearing from you, and discussing possible rights to these ideas.

Sincerely,
Earl B Morris

P.S. how does one obtain a "Brewmasters" Certificate? It sounds as though it would be an interesting job. Do you offer the program there? If you do please send details.



Earl,
Please feel free to mail me the label that says Jewmasters. I would definitely be interested in seeing it as it is obviously a printing error on our part.

Cheers, Mary



Dear Sir,

I no longer have the bottles. I was so enraged I threw them into the neighbors bin. I can however attempt to sketch a reproduction. I am a fairly artistic person to put it mildly!
I will need charcoal pens and a rubber eraser and at least three 8x11 sheets of quality paper. Will you be supplying these or do you simply reimburse me?

Looking forward to speaking further on this matter,

Earl Morris

* There has been no further correspondence.

- Earl B Morris

Science/Fiction

So, the other day, I realized that it had been far too long since I'd read any science fiction, and I thought this was extremely strange. I'm a tried and true science fiction fan. I grew up on the stuff, I cut my teeth writing the stuff (which is why you should write with your fingers, and not your teeth) and I deeply enjoy it.

Yet, I looked over my bookshelves, my TV shows, my movies, and I realized that Sci-Fi just wasn't on the list. Unless you count things like old Star Trek re-runs, Babylon 5 reruns, and maybe if you count Heroes. That's about it.

Very strange. I got to wondering why.

So I went back further, digging into the sci-fi books that I'd last bought, and trying to figure out why I'd drifted off-course, as it were. I realized that about around the time I discovered Neil Gaiman, I trifted into that type of fantasy and away from sci-fi.

I did figure out why, eventually, and this is why:

Science Fiction, to me, became like high fantasy (a la' Robert Jordan, Terry Goodkind, et al) which I also completely fail to get. That is to say, somewhere along the road, it became so complicated and so in-depth that I felt like I'd lost the plot and I, without meaning to, wandered off.

(This is probably just me, mind you; if you agree, good, otherwise just assume I'm blithering and move thee on.)

The science fiction books of Greg Bear and Kim Robinson, or the books of M. John Harrison for example completely fail to interest me. They're detailed and heavy and strongly science based. They are deep and involved and increasingly scientific. At least by me, it began to feel like I needed to do extra reading in order to follow the books, or needed to have had some really serious college education toward quantum physics before I could really enjoy the book.

Why is this? Truthfully, I'm not sure. I will still happily read Isaac Asimov, even though he spent a great deal of time talking about all manner of scientific detail. That said, as I think back on all the Asimov I've read in my life, I can recall Hari Seldon, the Mayors of the Foundation, Elijah Bailey, R. Daneel Olivaw, Gladys, and so on. All sorts of characters. I can vaugely recall the science of Hari Seldon and yet, as I tried to finish this sentence, I just realized I don't remember what it's called.

I guess the reason I drifted away from a lot of science fiction is that I'm very much in favor of people stories. All stories are people stories, but sometimes there are swaths of information piled on top, layering what can otherwise be a simple story into a thick and complicated tale. (Which is not necessarily a bad thing. I don't want simple stories, mind you.)

So, of late, I've started writing some science fiction stories, and they have very little actual hard science in them, because I guess that's just me. I've started reading some sci-fi again, and it also doesn't have a lot of hard science. When it comes to books, I think I prefer space opera to hard science.

Realizing that, I realized that when I went to Barnes & Noble and specifically looked for sci-fi there was A) Less sci-fi than fantasy and B) Less people story-science fiction than hard science. More William Gibson than Robert A. Heinlein, to make a comparison.

I'm not saying the system's broken. They sell. People buy 'em, and read 'em. I think it's probably just me having one of those figuring-out-the-world moments.

So, er, to bring this around to a point...those of you out in the world who are writing urban fantasy novels? C'mon. Go write me some space opera. Put some people on some space ships and throw them out at weird angles in the universe, and see what happens.

And then tell me about it. Because I like me some people stories.

The Long & Short of the NY Comiccon by Earl B Morris

I recently was an honored guest journalist at the NY Comiccon in NY (or New York to those in the know - also sometimes referred to as The Apple, or simply Appletown, by the Greeks and Armenians that frequent the food stalls and houses of ill-repute in nearby New Jersey).

A convention of the unconventional - comic collectors, cosplayers (people who dress as super-heroes or fruit), artists, writers, inkers, one letterer, filmmakers, actors, publishers, etc - The NY Comiccon was a colorful and interesting diversion from my current project, a delightful musical adaptation of Sophie's Choice to be produced at the Murlfeesboro, Tennessee Jazz players.

I also had the opportunity to meet two of the people on the staff at BBT Magazine with whom I had previously communicated only via the World Wide Internet (which I access on my compumax by mashing the buttons labeled with three W's, and waiting for my processing unit to begin screaming and making puffing sounds to another compumax which screams and puffs as well, at which point I know I'm connected), Lucien Spelman & Kennedy Smith. Both were delightful in "real life," and Lucien seemed clean and articulate. Kennedy I'm sure is a nice man outside of the stress of a comic book convention.

We were sitting at the bar high above the throng, peering down at the conventioneers when Kennedy began slurring remarks to female passersby, many of whom were costumed or in desperate need of a tan. In order to avoid the impending confrontation with a rather menacing looking version of Ms. Marvel, we made our way through the crowd to begin collecting interviews and/or hair samples.

Frankly I am a little behind the times, and haven't seen a film since 1965, and while I like funny books, once the cover price exceeded 20 cents I was forced to leave off the reading of those by my great aunt. With those things under consideration, I parted ways with Lucien & Kennedy, leaving them to do the majority of the interviews.

I wandered for awhile, sipping at a pineapple colada (which I'm certain did not have real pineapple juice in it and for some reason was made with red wine), and just as I was about to leave for the water closet, I spotted a small crowd around one of the tables at the far end of the room. As I got closer, I noticed a small fellow with dark skin, who at first glance appeared to be a child but on later inspection was revealed to be a very short man. A small notice in front of him declared him to be Gary Coleman, an actor, and I presumed super-hero funny book collector.


The small crowd left, and he resumed eating his salad. I fumbled with my recorder, and after changing reels (Kennedy had earlier been singing racy limericks at the top of his voice, and demanded I record him), I made my way over:

"How long will it take you to rid the world of evil?" I asked.
He begins to laugh, a delightful churlish sound, and clearing his eyes he said,"I don't know, a few lifetimes maybe,"
"Are you off to a good start?" I asked. I seemed to be picking up this journalist thing quite handily.
"No. I have not killed my quota yet this year," he said, still grinning.
The grin threw me for a moment. There was a slight menace to it, as though there were more to this man then there seemed. At a loss, but not wanting to waste the opportunity for further dialog, I scanned around the room for inspiration. I noticed a young man with a t-shirt bearing the word "fanboy" scrawled across his chest. Unable to think of anything better to say, I blurted out "Are you a fanboy?"
"Ahhh," he says, and raises his finger to his lips in a rather dynamic gesture. "What's a fanboy?"
"I believe it's someone who likes comic books." I said, a little unsure.
"I used to like Robotech" he said.
"Very good," I say, happy to be off the hook.
His smile fades a little, and we both falter for a moment. The uncomfortable moment of silence is broken by a man in his thirties who begins to pick through a small pile of autographed photos on the table. He chooses a seemingly odd image - in it are two black children, (One of them Mr. Coleman, the small fellow I'm speaking with), a pretty freckled girl, and an older white gentleman. Mr. Coleman is sitting on his knee, offering a sideways glance to the camera. The title below declares it to be a photo from The Different Strokes, an offputting title to be sure. Money is exchanged, a handshake offered across the table, and the man leaves poking his new photo into a plastic bag with a picture of a Japanese schoolgirl sitting atop a police car, and smoking a cigar in bold colors on either side.
Mr. Coleman turns back to me, expectant.
I'm at a loss for words for a moment, then:
"Anything new coming up?"
"Not really, no," he says, but I'll probably be at an upcoming... uh"
"Comic-book convention?" I offered.
"Yeah."

I shook his hand and make my way back to the bar, hoping to find out from either Lucien or Kennedy the nature of the celebrity I had been speaking with, when I was struck by the fact that they seemed to be lining up the guests in this room by height, for a giant of a man with a long head of curly hair was at the far end of the wall from where the small dark fellow was sitting. I was also struck by the fact that he was reading the latest copy of our new publishing endeavor, BBT Magazine, and he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.


I snapped a photo for reference, and later on that evening I showed it to Lucien & Kennedy. Kennedy spat a series of impolite euphemisms at me, and said it was a man named Peter Mayhew, and told me he had played a gorilla or something in The Star Wars, a 30 year old space film. I left to let the two of them sober up a bit, as they were clearly upset about something. I looked him up on the Interweb, but all I could find was this page: www.petermayhew.com with you may also find by typing into your googlemax and mashing the buttons on your mice. Please be sure you wait for the computers to begin screaming at one another, however, to ensure connection.