Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Spam box Q and A

It seems that more of you gracious, loyal fans have sent fan mail to my spam box. Whether out of humility or sheer technical ineptitude, I still want to thank you. You guys are the diehards. You guys will be there for me when these presumptuous people who end up in my actual inbox are long gone. I realize most of these are not questions, but oh well.

Q: Indulge yourself with luxury timepiece.
A: Thanks for the advice. I'm thinking of putting up a Paypal button dedicated to a grandfather clock fund. So, if any of you wants to start things up with a small pledge, I'll take your money.

Q: Tired of being unable to perfom? Can't see images?
A: I'm afraid neither of those things apply to me. It's a good question, though as many of us authors feel we cannot perform and have trouble constructing the necessary images that make our worlds of wonder come to be. This is not a problem for me. I'm also not blind or impotent. If either of these things happens to you, you might have ocular testiculitis, a condition in which your testicles come out of your eyesockets. Seek help immediately,

Q: Hi, looking for the greatest gaming hot spots?
A: Here's somebody who really knows me. Any of my REAL friends know I am a diehard roulette enthusiast. I eat, drink and sleep roulette. Whenever I see something spinning and a man in a red vest doesn't hand me a thousand dollars in chips, I'm confused. I've been known to become violent during board games that use a spinner. Thanks for thinking of me and knowing that I'm on an eternal quest to find America's luckiest roulette wheel. Keep me posted, okay?

Monday, January 26, 2009

Autographed copies of Murderland Part 1: H8 now available!

Autographed copies of my book Murderland part 1: H8 are now available for sale directly from me. Email me at thecentercannothold@gmail.com for more information.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

It Must be True

The swans are hungry. I hear rumbling beneath their feathers. Behind their cold bird eyes is a desire to turn their white plumes red. I'm onto you.

Friday, January 23, 2009


A man came to the door carrying a turtle in an afro wig.
"I believe this turtle is yours," he said.
"I don't think so," I replied.
He said nothing and simply ran away, leaving the turtle on the doorstep.
Was he right?

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

More free entertainment!

You can read more of my work at www.absurdist.cc or on my page at Goodreads.com. Also, on www.authorsden.com/garrettcook! ALSO at http://www.corpse.org/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=146&Itemid=1 (caution:filthy!)
Like love and friendship, all of these things are free.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Urban Legends Debunked! This Week: Clown Abductions

Clowns are a nefarious bunch. From Lon Chaney to Bozo, to Tim Curry in It. People fear them for good reason, whether it be fear of being eaten, being stomped by pathos or simply fear of being molested and left for dead in a dumpster. It's been said since the seventies that clowns have been picking up children in white vans and killing or molesting them. This is not completely the truth. The fact is, yes, there is the occasional odd clown out who picks up children in his white van and eats them to gain immortality and favor in the eyes of the Erl King, but most clowns have another purpose, one just as sinister and far more irksome.
Clowns love I-Hop. Perhaps because I-Hop pancakes are partially made with flour ground from the bones of children. Maybe because clowns just have no taste. But, meager clown paychecks and frequent firings for their serial killing proclivities often leave them broke, with nothing to show for it but their sinister white van of doom. Clowns use this van to pick up children saying they'll take them to some magical land. Instead, they take them to I-Hop. The child is forced to eat a mediocre stoner breakfast dinner and then the clown does the old dine and dash. Children do not usually have money to pay the bills, so are forced to work in the I-Hop kitchen or made into flour for the awful pancakes. As these kitchens are filled with children the quality of food becomes more crappy and clownworthy and the dance of terror continues. If your child, has a cellphone, they'll call you to have you pick them up and you can pay the bill. But, these children are so ashamed and violated they usually won't. Since children are bad at math, unscrupulous I-Hop managers exploit this to make them work interminably. I hope you feel a bit safer now that this vicious urban legend has been debunked.

Friday, January 16, 2009

Bradley Sands is a Dick Anthology

My story entitled Bradley Sands is a Dick (like all entries in this anthology) can be read at andersenprunty.com. Bizarro author Andersen Prunty gathered together experts on why his colleague Bradley Sands, editor of Bust Down the Door and Eat All the Chickens is a dick. If you're looking for profane and surreal anti Bradley Sands propaganda, look no further. When you're done, you can vote on www.andersenprunty.com to chose who should be Bradley Sands' new nemesis. I hope it's me. That guy's a dick.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Spam box Q and A

Every once in awhile (and by every once in awhile, I mean right now on a whim), I like to find out what's on the minds of my many, many fans, especially those who slip under the cracks and somehow end up in my spam box. Here are some of the 236 letters I received in the past seven days.

Q: Why did you leave me?
A:There were a lot of reasons. You were clingy, self-indulgent and loved to cry in public, sometimes for no reason at all. You borrowed my underwear without telling me and wet them just to make me hit you. So "Me" (as you've chosen to call yourself so as not to stoke my rage), there you have it. All the things that drove me away from you. The big, green mullet didn't help either.

Q: Where were you, man?
A: Dude, I was in Hawaii. If you knew me, you would know that I attend weekly Hawaii parties. But I guess we've been out of touch for awhile and you must have tried to meet up with me in Greenland. My Greenland phase is over. I'm a published author. Why eat BK Big Fish when you can eat caviar?

Q:Have you changed your number?
A: No, "Me", I have not changed my number, but all of these emails leave me seriously considering it. You must have missed me while I was at the big Hawaii party.

Q: Score on all the chicks tonight!
A: Not a question but thanks for the kind wishes.

Q: All designer watches! zfbw ew ibfa
A: Ibfa Ew Zbaf. Zafbif we.

Thanks, devoted fans! I'll answer more of these next week.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Bastard at the Mall

I've decided to open up one of those idea booths you see all the time at the mall, as I am ill-suited toward more mundane pursuits. I got the idea yesterday when I was walking around the mall and saw an idea booth. The idea man was a giant, like most ideamen and wore the traditional mortarboard of the trade with pride.
"Hello," he boomed at me, "are you looking for an idea?"
"I don't think so," I said, "I got plenty."
"Just a dollar and it comes with free taffy!"
So I hand him my dollar.
"You, my friend, could be an idea man," he said, "mining the frontiers of consciousness for genius!"
"But I'm not a giant!" I protested.
He shrugged his enormous shoulders and laughed.
"No refunds!"
I walked out of the mall, knowing I'd been conned and went to the Goodwill to find myself some stilts.

Friday, January 2, 2009

My review of the Lost Episodes of Beatie Scareli as posted at www.goodreads.com

The Lost Episodes of Beatie Scareli is a book that takes more risks than the rest of its genre.Your average lit fic bildungsroman depicts reality in a plotcentric realist mode that contradicts the frequent "the journey is its own reward" message or wishes to use the inner strength of heroine's going through a childhood hell to inspire in an Oprah books mode. Ginnetta Correli has written a book that would give Oprah pause. The adult world is ugly and nobody wishes to help. There is no good parent. There are no miracles. The only soundingboard for Beatie' s suffering is a stuffed rabbit. There is no redemption for Beatie's family, no chance at reconciliation. The realm of child abuse and neglect is shown through a sublime funhouse mirror where the only humor is terror at the rantings of Beatie's insane mother. Well done. My only critique is that the moments of surrealism and madness should have gone longer to better accentuate a chaotic world. For those looking for a newer, more brutal approach to the coming age story, check this out.