Is a Vampire’s Castle His?

Law and popular culture are filled with examples of persons having total authority over their own property. Which raises the question whether a vampire requires permission to enter the house that they owned while a human.

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Pulping the Classics

I had a conversation over the weekend about whether certain genres need to be about particular things or whether they can be an aesthetic. And, as is common with discussion of genre boundaries, the discussion soon sent out a tendril into the field of literature vs. genre fiction. While the difference—if any—between literary and genre fiction is of interest to me, I was more intrigued by the question of whether the reverse of magical realism existed: a genre version of literature. So, I experimented with a pulp version of the opening of an American classic. I present it below, not to prove or disprove a hypothesis but in the hope it will amuse.

The Film That Should Not Be!

As further evidence of a universe that basks in blessed madness, Episode 92 of the Geek Podcast: The Nasgûl & The Bus Driver makes passing reference to one of my moments of Yog-Sothothic whimsy. For those seeking the ultimate in roiling blasphemy, it’s also on iTunes.

A logo formed of a red square with Geek Questioner Podcast number 92 week in review the nasgul and the busdriver on it

Should you feel mentally prepared for those secrets Charlie Hooper refused to share, I reproduce my suggestions of films altered by the name Cthulhu below: Correlate the contents of your mind…

Mock Trial

There are two sorts of people in the world: people who are not involved in a legal proceedings, who think that the law is somewhat ridiculous; and people who are involved in legal proceedings, who think that the law is of the utmost seriousness. However, it can’t be denied that there are sometimes cases that tickle my fancy; although not always for the reasons they please most.

Hunters of the Free Tsar

100 Words of Speculation written over a background of fountain pen and printed text

T’kjun pressed his flippers to the ice, shooting forward to the base of the berg. Harpoon cinched tight, he clambered up. The five heads that had shattered the ice had gone—for now. The tribe relied on him to find the bounty exposed by the breaking and to give warning if the five heads returned. He would not fail them.

Beak jutting, he crested the ridge and stopped in awe. Aqua green skin with markings of brown and beige. A mighty Vy’un Etta, flanks barely dusted with frost.

Raising his harpoon above his head, he signalled the mammoth handlers to advance.

The Call of Cabbage

Even the most cursory internet search for HP Lovecraft is likely to uncover a fresh-to-the-searcher article or discussion of his racism: he was objectively racist; he was a product of his time; he was more racist than his time; he was a racist but his works aren’t; and so forth. I suspect the broad questions of cultural relativism might never be answers satisfactorily, but what if he objectively wasn’t racist? What if he was actually anything but prejudiced?