It is that time of year.
This short story by Ray Bradbury was written in 1948.
Oddly enough, it seems like something you would see gracing the front pages of today’s morning paper.
I’ve decided to re-post this perennial favorite simply because it is horrifying.
Just to warn you, it’s a fairly gruesome tale.
Bradbury was so far ahead of his time.
If you haven’t read The October Game and would like to,
click on the picture above.
Halloween will be here on Saturday and I have a few creepy and crawly things
to offer you between now and then.
If you are not a horror flick fan, I’m so sorry.
This short clip is from ‘An American Werewolf in London’, a film by Jon Landis.
The clip is pure Landis with musical soundtrack, graphic manipulation of human flesh and all.
At the time it was state of the art.
Still looks pretty damn cool today, methinks.
Check it out.
Oh, and . . . Booo!
This is something we should all read at least once a week.
It was written By Regina Brett, of The Plain Dealer, Cleveland, Ohio
To celebrate growing older, she once wrote a column called ‘45 lessons life taught me‘.
It was the most-requested column she’d ever written.
Her odometer rolled over to 50 in 2006, and there was an update.
This was an email sent to me by a blogging friend from another blogging friend.
I’m hoping she sees this and realizes that, yes,
I am in that rare 7% to pass this one along.
This is priceless, folks.
Please feel free to forward friends and family this LINK.
This needs to be read.
Regina Brett’s 45 life lessons and 5 to grow on
1. Life isn’t fair, but it’s still good.
2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.
3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.
4. Don’t take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
5. Pay off your credit cards every month.
6. You don’t have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.
7. Cry with someone. It’s more healing than crying alone.
8. It’s OK to get angry with God. He can take it.
9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.
10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.
11. Make peace with your past so it won’t screw up the present.
12. It’s OK to let your children see you cry.
13. Don’t compare your life to others’. You have no idea what their journey is all about.
14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn’t be in it.
15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don’t worry; God never blinks.
16. Life is too short for long pity parties. Get busy living, or get busy dying.
17. You can get through anything if you stay put in today.
18. A writer writes. If you want to be a writer, write.
19. It’s never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.
20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don’t take no for an answer.
21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don’t save it for a special occasion. Today is special.
22. Overprepare, then go with the flow.
23. Be eccentric now. Don’t wait for old age to wear purple.
24. The most important sex organ is the brain.
25. No one is in charge of your happiness except you.
26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words: “In five years, will this matter?”
27. Always choose life.
28. Forgive everyone everything.
29. What other people think of you is none of your business.
30. Time heals almost everything. Give time time.
31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.
32. Your job won’t take care of you when you are sick. Your friends will. Stay in touch.
33. Believe in miracles.
34. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn’t do.
35. Whatever doesn’t kill you really does make you stronger.
36. Growing old beats the alternative – dying young.
37. Your children get only one childhood. Make it memorable.
38. Read the Psalms. They cover every human emotion.
39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere.
40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else’s, we’d grab ours back.
41. Don’t audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.
42. Get rid of anything that isn’t useful, beautiful or joyful.
43. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.
44. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.
45. The best is yet to come.
46. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.
47. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.
48. If you don’t ask, you don’t get.
50. Life isn’t tied with a bow, but it’s still a gift.
It is Malarkey Monday once again. (almost, here in the States)
Where the hell did the week go?
I give up.
I won’t give up on the strange pics, vids and sites I’ve found this week though.
Happy Malarkey Monday folks!
Take the ‘suck’ out of your Monday and laugh a bit, okay?
I won’t keep you long . . .
Never underestimate the power of a good story.
It may save your life.
Like Chinese food?
So does John Pinette.
Check it out.
A picture for shits, giggles and some pussy humor . . .
Do you like Halloween Desktop wallpaper?
Click on the pic below and thank me later . . .
Please visit my Malarkey Monday cohorts!
They love the comments!!!!!
Thankful beyond my wildest dreams.
To 2 very special people who shall remain anonymous.
I will sleep well tonight . . .
with a confirmed warmth for the upcoming Winter as well.
Thought I’d bring you up to date on the state of my current didgeridoo playing;
Yes, I can play it.
And it sounds like a didj should sound.
I can make it growl, sing and almost talk.
I have fallen in love with this incredible instrument.
I am still learning to circular breathe and make animal sounds (Dingo, Roo, Kookaburra and more)
I play my didj at least 4-5 times a week for approximately 30 – 60 minutes
or until my lips turn into the consistency of lean ground hamburger (my lips get that red as well).
I did, however, figure out how to blaze my way into the Didgeridoo Hall of Fame. (is there such a place?)
It came to me in a flash while talking on Skype to Maureen and Mark in Australia
(the Givers of said Didj) last Friday night.
I’m going to playTHIS on my didj. (no need to listen to the whole song, just the beginning riff)
I know that it’s weird.
But it’s original, yes?
I know I’ll never win an award but hey,
I am having an absolute blast and it makes me smile whenever I play my didj.
(most definitely not the last didj I will ever own)
Stay tuned for more Didj updates, if you’d like.
Still thinking about that YouTube video as well.
Be patient folks, be real patient.
It’s Malarkey Monday once again.
Where in God’s name did the week go?
Saddle up and let’s ride into this week with one of my all time favorite beer ads.
Nothing like a lawyer with a sense of humor . . .
If you’ve haven’t visited peopleofwalmart.com
check it out.
It is hysterical, scary and often quite disturbing.
Create your own caption for the blistering image below.
I’m in the middle of pouring bleach into my eyes.
Have a great week, peeples!
Please visit my fellow Malarkers for more Monday hijinx:
I hate wearing new shoes and I’m willing to bet that 99.999% of the male population does too.
They never feel right and by the end of the day you’re walking like Donald Duck after
sniffing glue and eating one too many Skittles.
Taste the rainbow of discomfort.
The only footwear that feels right to me the first time I wear them has been (and always will be) sneakers.
I didn’t wear sneakers today.
I wore shoes. New shoes.
Uncomfortable and unbroken-in shoes.
Evil, nasty monster shoes that should be thrown into the footwear abyss where all the bad shoes go.
Actually, they were a pair of Timberland casuals, a gift from my mother-in-law that can’t say no to anything 70% off, although sometimes I wish she would.
I love her anyway.
But my feet felt like two squishy blisters about to pop as I walked to the train.
Even the people driving on Boylston looked at me, concerned, as if to say,
“Hey, man, you look like you gotta take a crap or something!”
As I limped to South Station, I began thinking about walking in my father’s shoes,
not theoretically but realistically.
I would put on his oxblood wingtips that were 6 sizes too big
and waddle around the living room tripping on things while making believe I was him.
Everyone would get their chuckle and it would be bedtime for Mick.
I liked going into my father’s closet in the hallway.
It had all of his ‘stuff’ in it and I could get lost for hours.
In the back of my mind I can see the large glass pickle jar filled with change.
It was in the shape of an actual pickle barrel and it weighed about 200 lbs
(or 90.718474 kilos)
I wonder when he cashed those coins in?
It was probably after I’d lost interest in the closet and moved on to collecting
pollywogs in a rusty pail underneath the back deck.
There was all kinds of stuff in that closet: old army boots, belts that had fallen off their hooks that he forgot he even had, an empty ‘Tootsie Roll’ bank that served no purpose whatsoever and a shoebox filled with brushes, polish and stained rags.
If I could have bottled the smell of his closet, I would have.
The thing I liked best about my father’s closet was the feeling of comfort that it gave me as I sat there surrounded by his stuff. My world was safe as I sat there on the closet floor even when he wasn’t home.
These days I find myself missing the ‘safety’ that was him.
When my mother and father were well I always felt I had that net stretched out below me should ever I fall, not that I would ever use it.
I just liked knowing it was there.
The net disappeared many years ago and I really miss the feeling of calm that it gave to me.
For now, I’ll choose to cherish the memories of that special closet in the hallway that seems light years away.
Maybe it’s not that far away after all.
As I finish writing this post I can see snow falling outside the dark kitchen windows and it’s only October 15th.
Maybe it’s my mother and father’s way of telling me that I now have my own net to tend to.
They always had a way with words . . .