Noirison: Chapter One – A Tee Bone Man Multiverse Story (by Holen)

NOIRISON: Chapter One

A Tee Bone Man Multiverse Story

By Holen

A cold breeze blew in from the south, rustling the threads on my coat, and shifting my hat ever so slightly. I never could get used to these damn cold nights. I’d spent my nascent years in Perth, Australia. Anything below 60 was too clammy for my good. Leaving home wasn’t my choice, but when you find yourself running amuck of Johnny Law, it’s best to split like a bum at a railroad inspection. New York City had its charms though. I had a nose for action, and this city kept my nostrils flared.

My name is Harrison Healey. I’m a private eye. I used to work for the force, but Captain Ladano considered my attendance too erratic. Of my many virtues, punctuality was not chief among them. I looked more like a cowboy than a gumshoe. I was tan, tall, handsome, and handy with a weapon. A loaded .45 and a license to carry in all fifty states, not that I was too keen on using it. You needed a heater on these streets though, even if it was full of blanks. But if you used dummies, you’d best be ready for the other guy to call your bluff.

Damn, there’s that breeze again. I was only a few blocks from home. I liked to walk some days, it gave me a chance to sweat out the booze, but the cold was getting to me that night. I decided to light a cigar. But where did I put that lighter? It was right about then that a meaty fist the size of a 10 oz steak appeared in front of my face. It was holding a specialized lighter that read, “John T. Dreyfus Productions.” I looked up at the towering lump of meat standing in front of me. This guy was definitely muscle.

“Want a light?” the giant inquired.

“What’s the catch?” I shot back.

“A few minutes of your time. Mr. Dreyfus wants to see you,” he impatiently spat out.

“I don’t presume to know Mr. Dreyfus, and if it’s all the same to you, tiny, I’ve got a bourbon nightcap and a pillow calling my name at home. Tell him to call my office tomorrow and set up an appointment like a normal person.” With that rebuke, I turned to walk away, but the giant had other plans. The 10 oz steak became a hammer and nailed my stomach up against my spine. I hit the ground like a sack of bricks. My still unlit cigar rolled down the curb into the storm drain.

“It wasn’t so much a question,” a booming voice proclaimed from seemingly miles above me. The hammer came ‘round for a second swing, this time whacking my skull. I tasted blood, saw black, and don’t remember too much for a while after that.

I started to come around in a chair. I had no idea how long I was out, but I wasn’t booze drunk anymore, just punch drunk. I had to stop drinking like that. I should have heard a guy his size coming a mile away. A creep that size probably shook the buildings when he walked.

“Ah! He’s coming around! Good thing too, as this whole affair was beginning to try my patience,” an unfamiliar refined voice declared.

I opened my eyes and got a good look at my surroundings for the first time. I was several stories up in an expensive looking room, full of the tacky kind of furniture that only a despicable amount of wealth could ever corrupt you into believing was fashionable. It was still night, but was it the same night? The giant was lumbering in the corner, and a middle aged man with snow white hair approached me.

“My apologies for the rough stuff. My employees can oftentimes be a bit overzealous, but they’re so effective I find it hard to reprimand them!” Dreyfus decreed with insufferable hubris.

“Well if you don’t, I’d be more than happy too,” I groaned. “I think your boy fractured my skull.”

“Now, now, Mr. Healey. Let’s not be melodramatic. I deal with enough of that from my actors. I’m sure your headache is nothing a drink wouldn’t fix. Pick your poison,” he said, gesturing to the extensive supply of liquor on the wall.

“Bourbon, neat.” I guess the moratorium on drinking would have to wait.

“Ah, a man of taste. I understand that Europeans don’t often drink with ice. Is that true of Australia as well? I for one like to savor every sip. I’m a man of refined tastes, and I want to taste every cent,” Dreyfus chuckled, handed me the bourbon, and then poured a glass for himself. I took a sip, and the pain began to subside.

“Look pal, I don’t mean to be rude, but I have no idea who you are, or what you could possibly want from me,” I said.

“You’ve never heard of John T. Dreyfus Productions? I’ve been a pillar in the film industry for thirty years, by the looks of which is longer than you’ve been alive. Haven’t you ever been to a cineplex?”

“I’m a music guy.”

Dreyfus scoffed.

“Well, it’s impertinent to the matter at hand anyway,” he proclaimed. He took a sip of his bourbon. “Despite all the pageantry, what I desire from you is fairly standard. I’d like to hire you to find somebody.”

“I’m in the phone book, didn’t you think to try that first?” I quipped.

“I’m afraid it was a matter of some urgency, and I’m not accustomed to waiting.”

“All right then. What was so urgent you needed to give me a concussion?” I sarcastically inquired.

“An actress. She’s a newcomer, set to play a starring role in my latest film. This woman is a natural! Talented, and not so hard on the eyes either if you catch my drift. The picture is set to start filming next week, but she hasn’t been to rehearsal in the last three days. No one knows where she is, and I refuse to recast her. I want her in that film, and John T. Dreyfus gets what he wants!” he exclaimed in third person.

“I picked up on that, yes.”

“As I’m sure a man of your intelligence has already concluded, I want you to find her, and bring her to me.”

“What if she doesn’t want to come back?” I barbed.

“Well, I presume a man of your distinguished physical attractiveness should have no trouble convincing any woman of the heterosexual persuasion to follow you anywhere,” he said. I couldn’t tell if it was flattery, or an honest observation. In spite of all my vices, I was good looking.

“Dame got a name?” I asked.

“Savannah Severny. Doesn’t the alliteration just tickle you?”

“No,” I bluntly replied. Dreyfus sighed.

“In any case, here’s her profile shot,” Dreyfus handed me a picture of a beautiful blonde. She was a looker all right, but she had that sadness hidden under the surface. Someone had taken a belt to her too many times as a kid, or maybe no one was there to do it at all. Another broken beauty.

Dreyfus interrupted my thoughts saying, “And then there’s the matter of your pay. How does $500 a day suit you?”

It sounded good, great even. Business had been on a downward slide for months, but I wasn’t about to tell him so. I flashed a sour look.

“$750. How about that?” Dreyfus offered.

“Plus expenses,” I added.

“Well, naturally.”

I bit my lip and tried to hide my smirk. This wasn’t a parsimonious man. His po ckets clearly ran as deep as his influence. Still, something about him rubbed me the wrong way. Those rich producer types always had ties of which I never wanted to be associated. But at the end of the day, I couldn’t hide from the ugly naked truth, I needed the money.

“All right, I’ll take your case,” I agreed.

“Excellent,” Dreyfus opened a drawer and produced several bills. “Here’s a two day advance. Keep me updated on any progress.” He shook my hand with his right hand, and handed me the bills with his left. I stood up to leave, shot the muscle a quick glance of defiant bemusement, and walked towards the door.

“One more thing,” Dreyfus quickly said. I slowly turned, inadvertently betraying my annoyance.

“Forgive me, dear boy. I’m afraid I’m rather unschooled in the fine art of brevity. But seeing as you seem to have a proclivity towards impetuosity, I’d say we make quite a pair,” Dreyfus wryly remarked.

I stared in waiting.

“A bit of dry humor. Perhaps, misplaced. I’m afraid I mistook my audience, and mistook you for a risible man,” he conceded.

“What is it?” I said curtly, finally losing all patience. Briefly, I caught a sinister glance cast out of Dreyfus’ eyes. It was only a fraction of a second, then he quickly composed himself. This man was definitely a professional.

“Confidentiality is something I hold sacred. From now on, I’d like you to refer to me in all communications and in any notes you may take for this case by a false name. You are to refer to me as Snow. Understood?”

“I think I can manage.”

“Good. On your way then.”

On my way then. The ink hadn’t even dried on our deal and already I was like one of his lackeys. I rode the elevator down to the ground level, questions spinning on my mind. Why me? A man of his financial stature could afford anybody to find this broad. Why’d he employ the services of my crummy dime store operation? Maybe he had looked in the phonebook. Everyone flips to the middle anyway, and my name is right around that area. The c-notes in my pocket helped to pacify my restless mind. I wasn’t sure how I’d find this Savannah lady, but I had a good idea of who I should ask first. Before I saw him, I had to stop by a gas station for a few tallboys.

I slid into T-Bone’s, a local jazz club and found a table near the back. The guy I was looking for was up onstage, a guitarist known only by the name Holen. He was an esteemed player. Everyone knew of him, but no one knew what he looked like. He was an invisible man, sharp-dressed, but tough to discern out of context. He lived for his instrument, it was the only thing in the world that brought him happiness. That and any kind of liquor he could get down his gullet. Hence the cold tall boys in my coat.

I sat there and watched his set. I decided to have a cigar, but remembered I didn’t have a light. It was just gonna be one of those nights. Holen took his solo, then a bow, and made a predictable beeline for the bar. I met him there, tallboys still frosty in my coat. Sweat still dripping from his invisible brow, Holen turned in his barstool towards my direction.

“Harrison Healey. To what do I owe this undoubtedly dubious pleasure?” Holen exhaustedly proffered.

“A little sloppy tonight weren’t you?” I ribbed.

“It was our third set! I’m getting the shakes. And you know I never drink before or during a performance,” he spit back.

“I might find that impressive if those weren’t the only times you aren’t nursing a drink.”

“Speaking of, why don’t you cut to the chase so I can get straight to it? I got a date with the demon rum.”

“I need some information,” I said bluntly.

“Of course you do. You ever think about just making a social call?” he jested.

“I’m not the social type, Holen. Tell me everything you know about this broad,” I extended the picture out to him.

“What’s in it for me?” he grunted. I produced the tallboys.

“They were out of Mickey’s big mouth cases. I figured these would do,” I ribbed.

“Well, that’s a start. Her name’s Crystal. Well, probably not, but that’s what they call her. She dances over at the Two-Bit strip joint off of 10th street. You hurry, you might catch the end of her show.”

“I heard her name’s Savannah.”

“It probably is, but that’s not what they call her down there.”

“You sure it’s her?” I pressed.

“Yes. That’s not the type of dame you mistake for somebody else.”

“Thanks. Take it easy there, Holen. I could almost hear your liver crying above your guitar.”

“I never stop ‘til I’m three sheets to the wind. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

I patted him on the back and proffered a simple, “Do as you will.”

“I intend to,” he quipped back.

Holen was certainly a character. The tosspot took the piss out of everything and everybody. There was something about him I admired though. He’d found his niche and was content indulging his vices nightly. I took leave of T-Bone’s and set out for the strip joint. Luckily for me, it was only a few blocks away. I checked the time, it was a quarter to four. I’d better get moving if I wanted to catch Savannah.

I hastened my pace. The exertion helped subdue the cold. I made good time, and saw several girls being escorted out of the strip club by what had to be the bouncer. I snuck back in the lot behind the place. I didn’t feel like having another confrontation with a brainless brawn. Standing out of sight, I perused the shadowy figures, looking for one that resembled Savannah. No such luck yet. I saw a dark silhouette about to turn the corner, and then felt a heavy object strike the back of my dome with extreme force. So much for avoiding another head injury…

TO BE CONTINUED…

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE ONE – THE SQUIRREL SAGA 

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE TWO – THE MULTIVERSE SAGA

  • Chapter Eighteen:  Shinzon – Origins (By LeBrain)
  • Chapter Nineteen:  Tee Bone Man and Superdekes vs. the Lego (By LeBrain) coming soon
  • Chapter Twenty:  The Death of… (By LeBrain) September
  • Chapter Twenty-One:  The Fate of… (By LeBrain) October

 

  • Noirison:  Chapter One (by Holen)
  • The Mole in Rock and Roll Heaven (by 80sMetalMan) TBA
  • Shinzon – Dread and the Fugitive Mind (By Harrison Kopp) TBA

 

THE COMPLETE ADVENTURES OF EDIE VAN HEELIN’

THE WRITER’S ROOM

 

 

RE-REVIEW: Arkells – Morning Report (2017 vinyl deluxe edition + 4 bonus tracks)

ARKELLS – Morning Report (2017 Universal vinyl deluxe edition)

Last time I reviewed Morning Report, I mentioned that the first two songs, “Drake’s Dad” and “Private School” were my least favourites.  Ironically Morning Report became my favourite Arkells album despite this.  When I re-bought it on a vinyl reissue, I was surprised but pleased to see that the running order had been altered!  Now, a new single called “Knocking At the Door” was track #2, with “Private School” moving on to #3.  This really changes things and makes the album a much more consistent listen from the start.

Y’see, I’ve discovered that I don’t particularly like when the Arkells get too much into modern mainstream pop.   Despite its powerful soul chorus, “Drake’s Dad” falls into this category for me.  It really does have a great chorus, a powerful soul/gospel chant of “I just wanna hold you, so high!” that raises the roof.  It also has a lush arrangement with strings and samples.

“Knocking At the Door” has modern elements too, but my attention is drawn to the blast of the horn section, and the impressive and aggressive drumming from Tim Oxford.  The track is just a banger.  The chorus is as powerful as the Arkells get.  Never a dull moment in this song.  Listen to the horns and drums, trust me!  Like “Drake’s Dad”, this one also features soul/gospel vocals.

The forgettable drinking anthem “Private School” has a fun hook of “Ah, fuck off, don’t say I’d do the same!”  Silly fun.  It doesn’t overstay its welcome, and soon makes way for the incredible ballad “My Heart’s Always Yours”.  This suave pop rock heart-tugger just hits all the feels.  Max Kerman has a way with words and I’m certain that the ladies love him for it.  Though keyboards are the prominent hook-delivering instrument, the pure passion and panache of this song just elevates it to the clouds.  As you’ll see later on, it doesn’t need the keyboards.  A brilliant song, made indelible in the brain and heart!

Things get even better on “Savannah”, the fast acoustic-based song with killer lyrics.  “She was named after, she was named after her dad’s favourite city.  I was named after, I was named after the fact…”  How does Max come up with this stuff?!  He paints a picture of characters, often female, drifting in and out of his life.  He tells their stories, often depicting musty old apartments, messy beds, and empty refrigerators.  Musically, “Savannah” is even better than lyrically.  It’s powerful and it has a trumpet solo, so what more could you want?  The chorus is probably the most immediate one on the album.

Then…get ready for chills, for it is time for “Passenger Seat”, the most haunting song on the album and easily one of the most chill-inducing I’ve ever heard.   Then the chorus comes, with Max in a high falsetto, accompanied by sparse piano and keyboard effects.  “Driving on the highway home, this time alone, doesn’t mean the same without you.  I turn on the radio, to somethin’ slow, just to let it fuck with my mood…but songs don’t sound the same without you in the passenger seat.”  Who can’t relate to that?  (People without driver’s licenses I suppose.)

Brightness returns on “Making Due”, like the light peaking through the blinds after a long night.  The music is pure uplifting magic, and the lyrics cut clean through.  A sunny guitar hook opens the track, and then Max delivers some of his best melodies and words to date.  That falsetto really nails the hooks home.  Favourite lines:  “I thought we made a deal, you were crossin’ your fingers!”  Or  “Got a pulse, but there’s a few beats missin’.”

Acoustics come to the fore on “Round and Round”, a folksy number (at first) that serves to bridge two very upbeat pop songs.  The band comes in partway and it becomes a little more late Beatles-y in a weird way.  Horns come blastin’ through, then synth, and it grows into something else entirely: something birthed in the early 80s, but also talking about MuchMusic’s Electric Circus TV show circa 1999.  An interesting track that is more than meets the ear.

“Hung Up” is impossible not to dance to.  “The gatekeepers are keepin’ me out, let me in!  Who made you the president, well fucker?”  The horns also return, along with the synth, creating a modern pop rock classic.  And I just love Max Kerman’s trio of “Well fucker?” at the end of the song.  (Also listen carefully for a reference to “Fake Money” from the prior album High Noon.)  No folks, he may be no Axl Rose, but Max Kerman is not afraid of dropping F-bombs right and left.  Fortunately I’m easily entertained and I find his use of the word (usually) effective and not overdone.

A beauty called “Come Back Home” is a quieter, slow ballad, with a thrumming bassline that provides a dreamy foundation, like a pillow.  “All would be forgiven if you’d come back home,” begs Max.  “‘Cause I just wanna be yours again.”  Filled with regret, Max is looking for reconciliation.  Morning Report could in fact be a concept album about shattered relationships and our reactions to them.  “And I thought about all the ways I could hurt you, to even the score of feelin’ deserted.”

The upbeat moods return on “A Little Rain (A Song for Pete)”.  Max has indicated he’s probably an atheist in past lyrics, but here he says “I stumbled in St. Peter’s Cathedral, there I was.  I never tried religion but man, I’ll try anything once.”  I can’t tell if this song is about someone name Pete, or if Max is singing as if he’s having conversations with St. Pete himself.  It means whatever you want it to!  This incredibly catchy tune has a fun, bouncy beat and a suitable synth riff to go with it.  Drummer Tim Oxford is definitely an underrated percussionist who doesn’t play it simple and always has catchy fills.

A slower but powerful song called “And Then Some”  is next to last.  This romantic dreamer is so good!  “And I love every inch of you, and then some and then some.”  Beautiful song and I can’t help but think of Tom Cochrane on the chorus.  Something about Max’s delivery sounds like the Red Rider frontman.

Strangely, after all this power, all these hooks, and thick arrangements, the final song is very different from anything else.  Quiet, understated and short, “Hangs the Moon” is like a coda.  The arrangement is very bare, and Max’s voice is the main feature.  The Arkells occasionally choose interesting, unconventional closing songs, and this is one.  It works, but it’s not among my favourite songs on the album, and besides, it’s only the closer on the original 12 track album.  We still have three more to go, all acoustic versions of previous songs.

“My Heart’s Always Yours” has a completely different feel as a piano and vocal arrangement.  Guitar and percussion come in later.  The vocal melody is identical, but the mood hits differently.  It’s more sombre, though still mesmerising.  For the softer arrangement, Max resorts to falsetto for some of the power-vocal moments.  The wonderful “And Then Some” sounds more like the album version, though stripped back to basics.  It’s still every bit as beautiful as the record, with a few little surprises.  The best of the bonus tracks.  The last bonus track is an unplugged version “Knocking At the Door”.  This version sounds akin to an earlier album like Michigan Left.   Similar vibe.  There’s a cool bit at the end where the band sings together that just demonstrates their talent and soul.  Great tune, cool bonus.  All these bonus tracks serve to enhance an already excellent album.

To go with the new tracks, the gatefold double LP set comes with new cover art.  It’s similar, but has a woman’s face sketched instead of a man’s.  I love when different editions get similar, but different art!  I didn’t even notice at first.

Morning Report is an album that I have listened to intensely for the last couple months, and has made a permanent impression on my soul.  With Max’s lyrics tattooed on my heart, I’m already terribly biased towards love.  The improved track list here corrects any flaws with the earlier version and renders it obsolete.

5/5 stars

 

#1076: Weekend Listening At Home

RECORD STORE TALES #1076: Weekend Listening At Home

When I have time and the inclination at home, I like to go through dusty corners of the CD collection and finally get them ripped to PC.  I take my hard drives with me everywhere, so my music collection is always portable.  This weekend I took some deep dives, and sampled the sweet exotic fruits of the E section, a sampling of K’s and L’s, and some new arrivals too.

First of all, the newer stuff.

I’m going to have to re-review Morning Report by the Arkells again!  Turns out, I made a mistake in my original review.  I said that the deluxe edition had three bonus tracks, but I was wrong.  I didn’t realize that there was another bonus track inserted as track #2, between “Drake’s Dad” and “Private School”.  This makes all the difference in the world to the sequencing.  Now we get “Knocking At The Door”, a new single, as the new track #2.  Since “Drake’s Dad” and “Private School” were my two least favourite songs, having something of much higher quality between them really helps the flow.

I always buy something after doing a show on Grant’s Rock Warehouse.  This time, it was the Stone Gods.  I’ve acquired the single for “Burn the Witch”, which comes with two awesome non-album songs:  “Breakdown”, and “Heartburn”!  “Breakdown” is exactly like Thin Lizzy, to a tee, except with Richie Edwards on lead vocals.  “Breakdown” is of equally high quality, a light and humorous tune about Pepto-Bismol and Gaviscon.  Expect a review at some point in the future.

Finally, I sampled some April Wine, from Over 60 Minutes With…All the Rockers.  People ask me “Why do you not own any April Wine?”  I said “I never grew up with April Wine, my friends didn’t like them, so I never bothered.”  Well Tim Durling said I need April Wine.  I will evaluate this at a later date, but I have some April Wine now.

The next batch of discs was from the last part of the E section, five discs that had escaped ripping to the PC all these years.  It could be 20 years or more since I have last played some of these.   Earth, Wind & Fire, nothing need be said here, that’s essential.  I was surprised at the quality of Elf, as boogie-woogie isn’t usually my thing.  The Rik Emmett CD is cool because it has 2001 live versions of some of his old Triumph classics.  Episode Six runs the gamut from quaint to psychedelic.  “UFO” is one cool such song, a spoken word bit over drums, that reads from UFO sighting reports.  But that’s Ian Gillan and Roger Glover on the front cover, yes indeed!  Finally, the Eric Singer Project (ESP) was the weak link in this batch.  Just a bland covers album to me.

Next, over to the K section.  I noticed that none of my Kula Shaker music was on PC, and I have a lot of Kula Shaker.  That’s the entire collection below, in fact.

Look!  The 2 CD edition of debut album K with a cool remix of “Tattva”.  Two CDs of “Govinda” singles with B-sides and remixes.  “Grateful When You’re Dead/Jerry Was There” CD single with two non-album tracks. The highlight of me of these was “The Leek”, a quiz show style radio appearance by bassist Alonza Bevan.  (A distant cousin of Roger Glover, in fact.)  Really funny stuff.  To me, anyway!  Two CDs of “Hush”, the Joe South cover (also covered by Deep Purple Mk I) with lots more non-album tracks.  Then we have the Summer Sun EP, which has four of the previous B-sides and two songs I didn’t have elsewhere.  The second album, Peasants, Pigs & Astronauts spawned a CD single called “Sound of Drums”, both of which are here.  More non-album tracks on that as well.

Well, it turns out, I still love Kula Shaker!  Like, a lot.  That Britpop sound, mixed with 60s psychedelia and far Eastern influences just tickles my fancy.  There were a couple tracks I really loved, but none more than “108 Battles of the Mind” from the second album.  What a cool, manic track that definitely benefited from the Austin Powers era.

One thing about Kula Shaker that needs to be addressed:  the stellar musicianship.  These guys can jam!  Special notice to drummer Paul Winterhart who is absolute monster.  Incredible band.  Once I start re-absorbing these songs back into my memory, I may have to catch up with what they’ve been up to since 1999, where my collection ends.

Continuing through K, and into L, the listening continued on Sunday morning.

Kyuss is a band that I don’t think was summed up well by compilation.  I will have to dig further.  I have their split EP with Queens of the Stone Age, which has “Fatso Forgotso” on it, but I think Kyuss were an album band.  The two Kulick albums are excellent.  Corabi is on Transformer, which is signed!  I didn’t know I had a signed copy!  The James LaBrie solo disc also sounds great from what I sampled!  Very Dream Theater, in a good way.  Some heavy, some soft.  Then we have Life Sex & Death, also called LSD.  Their gimmick was their lead singer “Stanley” who was supposedly homeless (but wasn’t).  This 1992 album is one that needs more exploration.  What I heard was heavy, gritty and riffy while retaining some melody.  To be further examined in the future.

As far as I got on the weekend, this just scratches the surface.  Look at all this stuff that is still sealed in my collection.  Time or inclination just haven’t lined up with the proper mood yet.  Some are newer arrivals, like Metheny, Hollywood Vampires and Eric Carr.  Others have been sitting around for years.  The Kiss compilation may as well stay sealed for collector’s purposes, but The Boxed Life by Rollins…that could have been waiting a decade on these shelves.  The Garth Hudsons have been here since 2020.  The Etta James and Beatles since 2018.  They were in Jen’s mom’s collection.

Wish me luck as I continue to delve into these unheard corners of my collection.  What would you be playing first if you stumbled onto these discs?

 

VIDEO: Puppy memories of Ani

Ani was a special puppy to me.  I think she was my favourite puppy of all time.  She was so affectionate.  I recently found this old video of Ani taken on an unknown phone at an unknown time.  Either my old Motorola or the generic Fakeberry I replaced it with.  But that’s Ani the schnauzer.  My special friend.

The Grab A Stack of Rock Intro Video Odyssey

Back when Harrison and I first launched Grab A Stack of Rock in late 2022, we needed an intro song.  Jen and I had written some lyrics and a melody, but Tee Bone Erickson turned them into a song.  I am proud to have now turned his song into a record.  I decided to have a custom Grab A Stack 7″ picture disc cut by vinylart.co.  I’ve done this before with two other songs (one by Max the Axe and one by Dr. Kathryn Ladano) and though the sonic results are below par, I don’t care as I didn’t have the records made to play them.

Because I’m an idiot, I had this particular record made so I could use it in the new intro video.

Yeah.

That was $60 right there.  For roughly nine seconds of video.

We artists…not only do we suffer for our art, but we also go broke for it too.

I don’t make any money here, folks.   I do it for fun.

Doing this intro video (over and over again) was a true labour of love.  For our first show, we didn’t have the name yet, so I just ran the LeBrain Train intro video.  By the second show, we had the song but no video, so I made a quickie vid using old LeBrain Train shots.  As the show went on Friday after Friday, I kept updating the video (sometimes weekly) to include new guests and clips.  The version below is the 40th revision!  I’ve done more revisions than shows!

Now, finally I was able to let go of all the old LeBrain Train clips, as good as they often were, and use only fresh Grab A Stack content.  It has been quite an odyssey to get to this point, but…as always…I’m proudest of this version.  I think it’s the best one yet.  Jex and Tim both ham it up a bit in this, while a stoic Harrison looks on, stoically.

Friends like these in the video are the reason I keep doing this.  I love it.  I love us!  I love watching us do our thing, in a “greatest hits” kind of video.

I think this is the best one yet, until the next one.

 

 

 

#1075: Epileptics Will Say the Darndest Things

A sequel to Part 43:  Epilepsy Sucks!

RECORD STORE TALES #1075: Epileptics Will Say the Darndest Things

As a person with seizures that cannot be controlled by medication, my wife Jen has an interesting life.  The seizures are not as bad as they were several years ago, but they still happen regularly a couple times a week.  Lately they’d been pretty mild.  There was a series of them recently that left her unconscious for hours, and she fell three times that night (twice off the bed), but those nights are unusual.  We always must remain vigilant, and pay attention to any signs of coming seizures.  My job is to make sure she’s safe and doesn’t fall or hurt herself.

What is a seizure?  Unusual brain activity can be triggered by flashing lights, or even stress.  This causes Jen to lose consciousness, and sometimes flail her limbs about.  If she’s standing, she falls.  She makes utterances that sound like anything from gibberish to laughing to choking.  Worse things happen too.  It’s scary.  Not gonna lie.  Some people are surprised how calm I seem when they hit.  It’s just experience.

We have learned in our almost 20 years together that you have to have a sense of humour.  When funny things happen, they happen and it should be acknowledged.  For example, after a seizure, Jen’s vision can be extremely distorted and magnified.  She can see details that I can’t, and sometimes things appear incredibly close.  So, when she stared at my nose and proclaimed it “pointy and triangle-shaped”, I had to laugh.  That has to be written down and remembered, because that’s objectively funny.

Recently Jen had an “aura”.  Not quite a seizure, but with similar effects.  Jen is conscious, but in a daze, with similar sensory amplification.  It can be scary for her so I like to just rub her shoulders and talk her through it.  On this particular night, the aura struck just before a hockey game.  I tried to have Jen engage with me, instead of staring off at something scary in the distance.

“Who’s playing tonight?” I asked, gesturing to the TV.

“Team,” she responded simply.  It was the best she could do under the circumstances.

“I know our team [the Leafs] are playing tonight, but who are they playing against?”

“Shitty,” she answered.  I chuckled despite the circumstances.

“Montreal?” I asked her.  The Canadiens are her most hated team.

“Other shitty,” she replied.

“Oh!  Ottawa!” I laughed.

She nodded in the affirmative.

And so, I’m writing this down so we’ll always remember.  You have to laugh!  Yes, the aura left her dazed for hours afterwards, but it is important to find the humour in it.  You can’t let this disease beat you like that.

So laugh!  Find the funny things in life and remember we’re still breathing.

Jen in her Leafs jersey at the beach

NEW SITE! Jexcalibur WordPress is here! …Who Is Jex?

That’s right folks!  I’ve twisted his arm, and Jex “Rambo” Russell is now on WordPress.

You can find him at Jexcalibur.wordpress.com.  He’ll be telling stories like I do, he’ll be reviewing movies (one review is in the bag, to be posted August on 13 on both our sites simultaneously) and he’ll be talking music.  Subscribe and support!

You guys should already know Jex from the Distortion Den, Tim’s Vinyl Confessions, and Grab A Stack of Rock.  If you don’t, where the hell have you been all this time?

Subscribe to Jexcalibur, and celebrate as the community continues to grow.  Welcome Jex!

REVIEW: The Forrest Williams Democracy – “Halos” (2023 single)

THE FORREST WILLIAMS DEMOCRACY – “Halos” (2023 single)

I said it last year, and I’ll say it again:  Anybody who ever dug Big Wreck (and there are lots of you) should be checking out The Forrest Williams Democracy.  Their debut track “In Service of the Greater Good” made us happy last year, but this time we’re smiling ear to ear at the sound of the new song “Halos”!  It was hard to pigeonhole the Forrest Williams Democracy last time, but we bandied about words such as “Sabbath” and “Zeppelin”.  Not this time.  This time I might use words such as “Rush” or “Foo”!  Whether these were influences in any way, I have no way of knowing, but it’s not bad company to be compared to.

“Halos” is upbeat and irresistible!  There are verses that sound like they could have come from the 80s, but then in crashes a killer chorus with distorted vocals a-la your favourite 90s hits.  I find myself listening on repeat, it’s just that good.  Vocally and rhythmically, this is an outstanding track.  Though it is shorter and more to the point than their previous song, it still has a variety of different sections with different feels.  It all works together to make one concise, killer tune that will sound great with the windows down this summer.

“Halos” is out August 1, 2023.  Keep ’em coming, guys….

5/5 stars

The Adventures of Tee Bone Man: Shinzon – Origins

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN
PHASE TWO: THE MULTIVERSE SAGA


Chapter Eighteen:  Shinzon – Origins

 ONE YEAR AGO…in hell…

Harrison, Tee Bone and Superdekes had defeated the Devil and were now signing his autograph book.  Harrison, however, had some reservations.

“Wait a minute,” he asked. “How do I know I’m not signing my soul over to you?”

Satan laughed. “Look, I may be the Devil, but the rules of contracts are very specific. For me to take your soul via a signed contract, the contract must be clear and understood by all parties. You signed my autograph book, that’s all. Look, check out page three.” The Devil magically flipped to the correct page. “That’s Elvis…”

Relieved, Harrison smiled and signed the book gingerly.  The Devil snapped his fingers and the three heroes began to fade.

“Bye guys…” waved Harrison to the other two. They both waved back as all three disappeared, leaving the Devil alone with his new treasures.

Moments later, the Devil snapped his long-nailed fingers again, and summoned an attendant.

“Did you get the DNA sample from the pen?” asked Satan.

“Yes, Great Satan.  A good sampling of the Australian’s DNA has been captured.  We are beginning the preservation process.”

“Good.  Good.  Not your soul, young Australian…just your genes!  Our buyer will send payment as soon as we confirm the DNA is intact.  And to think those hero fools now believe I was after their autographs!  A little Australian DNA, and it is money in the bank.”

Satan laughed.  Winning always made him laugh.

The following day, in space…

Darth Tyranus was a stranger in a strange land.  This was not his land.  This was not his life.  The last thing he remembered, Anakin Skywalker had defeated him in combat.  He lost both his hands to a lightsaber and was about to lose his head.  And then…and then…

And then he was summoned.  Plucked, rather, from his own timeline.  His own universe.  His own life.  He was freed from one master, only to serve a new one.  One with the power to skip through universes like a child skips through a puddle of water, and take what he wants without consequence or care.

And now, he waited, over one of the moons of Bogden, his new mechanical hands clenching in leather gloves.

This universe was an interesting one.  There were no Sith.  There were no Jedi.  Until now, there was no Tyranus.  There was an actor, named Christopher Lee, from a planet called Earth, who played a character called Tyranus.  But Tyranus did not exist here.  Not until his new master sent him.

Just as his universe was unique, split into dark and light, this one too was unique.  In this universe, super beings protected the innocent.  Darkness struggled to penetrate this universe, with its guardians ready to defend at any moment.  New ones were appearing almost regularly now.  Something had to be done.

Tyranus checked his chronometer.  His contact from the underworld would be here soon.  Tyranus was brought to this universe for a specific reason:  cloning.  His years of expertise, manipulating the Clone Wars, made him ideal for this job.  His master had provided him with cloning cylinders, and a Kaminoan lab.  In his time in this universe, Tyranus had studied its heroes and villains.  He had chosen allies to serve him.  His goal was simple.  His master had made it clear:  eliminate the heroes.  Especially the Earth heroes.

Especially Tee Bone Man.

And so he studied and studied.  He put elements in play like pieces in chess.  With his gift of foresight, he was able to see in advance the alliances these heroes would make.  He could interfere and manipulate events to set them in his favour.

The DNA sample would be here soon.  Then all would begin to unfold.

Perfectly on time, Satan’s envoy was arriving.  His craft was a saucer-shaped ship with a dome on top, and landing gear below.  It landed a short distance away, and a ramp slowly lowered in front.  Tyranus straightened his cape.  This was his first meeting with an envoy from Hell in person.

From out the flying saucer came a tattooed man with no shirt, ripped pants, and a skewed baseball cap.

“Duuuuuuuuude!” said the tattooed man.

“You may address me as Lord Tyranus,” he answered gruffly.  “You are Satan’s envoy?”

“Yeah dude!” said the man as he approached, package in hand.  “I’ve been Satan’s envoy since the Shout at the Devil album in 1983!  Payment received, and he said to give you this!”

He handed Tyranus a small, sealed, metal box.  The older man took it, waved a hand over a surface, and the box opened.  Inside was a ball-point pen.  He sealed the box once more with another wave.  He summoned a Kaminoan attendant, who took the box away.

“Well done,” he said to the tattooed man.  “You may tell your master Satan to continue his business, but to expect to be summoned again when needed.”  The tattooed man just looked back at him with a stupid grin on his face.

Tyranus had no patience.  “Your name!” he demanded.

“Dude, it’s me, Tommy Lee!” said the Motley Crue drummer gleefully.

“Get out of my sight, Lee!  Give your master my message.  And put on a tunic.”

“A what??”

“A shirt you fool!”  Tyranus lashed out, amplifying his voice with the Force.  With that, Tommy Lee hightailed it out of there.

Tyranus considered to himself what he had achieved this day.  “All is going according to plan.  The Australian was to be their greatest ally.  When I replace him with an evil clone, then Tee Bone Man and Superdekes will never achieve the power they are destined.”  He laughed.  His new master was much more powerful than his old.  He was all but doomed before, betrayed by Darth Sidious and maimed by Skywalker.  Here, he had a new start.

He just needed to ensure that Tee Bone Man was not his next Skywalker.

At that exact moment last year, in Australia…

Harrison Holden, otherwise known as El Moustachio, was rubbing a sore thumb.  There was a sharp piece of plastic on the edge of the pen that he used to sign his autograph back in Hell.  He thought little of it at the time, but after a hard day of assembling Lego pieces, it was starting to bother him.

He applied a bandage to his Australian thumb.  “Ah, my boomerang thumb,” he thought to himself.  No boomerang classes tomorrow for him!

He was excited by his new friendship with the Canadian lads, Tee Bone Man and Superdekes.  They sure did have a good time saving the world.  He hoped it was not their last adventure.

A chill went up his spine.  What was that?  He shivered.  It was…cold…foreboding.

“Better get to bed,” he thought.  He played some Blaze Bayley through his headphones – Alive in Poland – and tucked himself in to bed.  As always, he made one wish at bedtime.

“I wish for more adventures with Superdekes and Tee Bone Man!  And maybe a cool pet that could fit inside a satchel.”

With that, he was off to sleep.  He had no idea that on a distant world, he had just been cloned!

Months after…

Tyranus watched events unfold on Earth.  The heroes were gaining strength.  They had brought into their fold now a wealthy but foolish man named Snow, with resources enough to fund the heroes’ every need.  Tee Bone Man and Superdekes were gaining in might and knowledge faster than anticipated.  Superdekes in particular was making leaps and bounds of progress on the technological side.

Today, that would end.  His Australian clone had advance-aged to perfectly match the original.  Today was the day to open the cloning cylinder.

The plan had unfolded perfectly.  Satan provided them with a flawless, clean Australian DNA sample.  It was not much, just enough for one clone.  Tyranus only needed one clone.  All they had to do was turn on the evil gene.  A simple task for the Kaminoan cloners.  Turning on the evil gene was in fact the easiest thing to do in all of cloning.

It was time.  Tyranus made his way through winding corridors, to the cloning lab.  The metal doors whooshed open, and two tall-necked Kaminoans were diligently preparing the clone for his arrival.

“Have you opened the cylinder?” he asked.

“Not without you present, my master,” answered the first wide-eyed Kaminoan.

“Do it,” he commanded with relish.

Before them, a shining silvery cloning tube opened, with a rush of steam and the hiss of a broken seal.  They waited for the mist to clear, to get a good look at this Australian clone they had just created.

There it lay, eyes closed, but breathing.  A perfect duplicate of El Moustachio.  Indistinguishable.  Its hair was long, brown, silky, straight and smooth.  Just like the original.  Flawless.  Blemish-free in every way.

“Wait…wait…something is wrong,” said Tyranus.  The room fell eerie silent as the Kaminoans froze, waiting.  “Where is its moustache?” thundered the Sith lord.

A timid Kaminoan answered meekly.  “I am sorry, my master.  The DNA sample was uncontaminated, but the original donor had such strong moustache genes.  These strong moustache genes are extraordinarily complex and must be duplicated with exact precision, or the gene remains recessive.  There simply wasn’t enough donor DNA present in the sample to do it.”

The Sith lord closed one mechanical hand into a fist.

“This…will simply not do.  Do you understand?”

The Kaminoan looked down.  “Yes, master.”

There was a flash of a red lightsaber blade, and an alien head hit the ground with a sickening thud.  Tyranus strode out of the chamber with a furious twirl of his cape.  The remaining Kaminoan stayed still and quiet.

The clone awakened in its cylinder.  It rubbed its eyes.

“Who am I?  Where am I?  I feel…evil!” said the clone in a flawless Western Australian accent.

“You, sir, are the worst clone I ever made,” answered the Kaminoan.  “You are fortunate that the evil gene took hold, otherwise he might find you completely worthless.  Your cloning was a failure, and I will give you a deserving name for such a shamelessly poor clone:  Shinzon.”

The cloned looked taken aback by all this information, but being evil, nor having seen Star Trek: Nemesis, did not care very much.

“Shinzon…I like it.  Henceforth I shall be known as Shinzon.  I have a terrible urge to eat cabbage and build things out of Lego.  Is this normal?” asked the clone.

“For you, yes it is.  We have prepared a feast of cabbage for your arrival, though you certainly do not deserve it, for your failure to grow a moustache.”

“Can’t I just wear a fake moustache?” asked Shinzon.

The Kaminoan simply laughed.  “You can’t fake a good moustache.”

More months later…

“Looks like we’re going to Romania,” mused Deke.  Tee Bone Man, Deke and Harrison were at it again:  trying to save the world from the evil plots and schemes of the Great Satan himself.  The devil needed something, and our boys were not about to let him have it!

“What are we going to do with the Infernum record?” questioned Tee Bone Man.  “It would be foolish to take it with us.”

“I think the safest place for it is in El Moustachio’s hands,” Deke said, nodding to Harrison.

The Australian nodded back and surreptitiously put it in his bag. “I’ll defend it with my life,” El Moustachio avowed.

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Tee Bone said with a smile. “But we really have to be going now.”

“Of course. Good luck,” Harrison replied, with a wave as Deke fired up his motorbike. The two accelerated down the road, before shortly taking flight and disappearing into the atmosphere as Harrison watched on.  The Australian then set off for his house, but a feeling of unease set over him.  A chill went up and down his back.  Suddenly an image flashed into his mind.  As clear as day, he could see it!  Goosebumps raised on his arms as he could see in his mind’s eye, a mirror.  In front of that mirror he stood, solemn and alone.  But the face staring back at him wasn’t his.  Or, rather, it was — but cleanly shaven, baby smooth, like some bizarre anti-Harrison.

Harrison shook it off, as he entered his home once again.  “That was so strange.  I would never shave off my moustache.  But that felt so…real!”

His squirrel friend Ripper greeted him at the door, the perfect pet for fitting into a satchel, but Harrison was distracted by this strange vision that he simply could not explain.

That day, in Tyranus’ throne room…

“It is time, Lord Tyranus.  I believe Shinzon is ready to be the agent of evil that you need on Earth,” said the Kaminoan.

Tyranus sat on his throne and considered this.

“He could not even grow a moustache!  And you want me to send this Shinzon of yours to Earth anyway?” mocked Tyranus bitterly.  All those resources spent…wasted…on this moustache-less mockery that calls itself Shinzon.”

“Yes, mi’lord,” answered the Kaminoan.  “I believe he is ready to prove himself.”

Tyranus considered this.  He placed a gloved hand upon his white beard and stroked.

“Very well.  Send him in.  I will test him, myself.”

With that the Kaminoan summoned the moustache-less Australian to the throne room.  Moments later, Shinzon stood before his master, hair silky smooth and freshly perfect.

“You summoned me, Lord Tyranus?” bowed Shinzon.

“Yes.  Have you been been informed of the mission that you have been suggested to lead?” asked a sceptical Tyranus.

“I have, my lord,” answered the clone.  “I am ready.”

Suddenly Tyranus lunged forward.  “Then prove it!”  His red lightsaber ignited, and missed Shinzon by two hairs, as he ducked just in time out of the way, and rolled across the floor.

Shinzon was on the ground now with Tyranus swiftly moving in his direction.  “Prove that you are worthy to serve me!” barked the Sith lord as he threw his lightsaber at Shinzon like a boomerang.

The clone rolled away again and laughed.  Standing, he drew his own boomerang.  “You’ll have to do better than that, Tyranus.  I’m an Australian clone!”  He hurled his boomerang with a mighty right, but Tyranus dissected the projectile with his lightsaber.

“Boastful, arrogant and foolish!” taunted Tyranus.  “Show me your anger!  Show me your hate!  Use them!”

Shinzon gritted his teeth and focused on the pain.  The pain of rejection from this man, this evil entity called Tyranus.  Faster than the eye could see, he drew a blaster.  He fired the sidearm in a blur, but Tyranus easily deflected the blast.

“Good…your hate is making your powerful!  Now, strike the killing blow!” instructed Tyranus.

This time Shinzon pushed a button on his chest and activated a light.  An intense, blinding light that took Tyranus by surprise.  He covered his eyes too late, deactivating his lightsaber, but temporarily blinded.  It took him a second, thanks to the shock of pain in his eyes, but he reached out with the Force — too late.  Shinzon was already at his neck with a blade and a blaster at his temple.

“Check, mate!” said Shinzon.

“Stalemate,” countered Tyranus.  He blinked as sight started to return.  His lightsaber hilt was at Shinzon’s head.  It was stalemate indeed.   Each combatant slowly disarmed and backed off.

“Good.  Good…you have passed this test, Shinzon.  You may yet prove your worth.  Go to Earth.  Be instructed well.  You are not to confront or interfere with Tee Bone Man and Superdekes.  If you alert them to our existence, then all will be for nothing.   I do not trust you:  I trust no-one who cannot grow a moustache, you failed clone,” warned Tyranus.

“To be fair mi’lord, it is turning out that he is remarkably evil, and quite good at all things Australian.  He will blend in on Earth just as well as the original,” said the Kaminoan attendant.

Tyranus stood dismissively.  “Assign Shinzon to one of the lesser heroes.  The Van Heelin’ woman, perhaps.  Perhaps…perhaps we can use her, in our plans against Tee Bone Man and Superdekes, if he is capable.”

“It shall be done, mi’lord,” said the Kaminoan.  Shinzon nodded his agreement.

“Good.  Contact Satan.  Get him to send his envoy once more, to bring Shinzon to Earth.  Give him access to all the technological resources, from every universe, that we have.”

The Kaminoan nodded its long neck and left the room.  Shinzon lingered a moment, glaring at Tyranus, before turning and exiting.

Tyranus sat, rather satisfied with himself.  Sending Shinzon to deal with the Van Heelin’ woman might serve one purpose, but if Shinzon could figure out a way to manipulate her against Tee Bone Man, then perhaps this cloning misadventure was not the waste that it appeared to be.

Earth.  Present Day.

Tee Bone Man and Superdekes were concerned.  Deep furrows of worry had formed in Superdekes’ face.  Tee Bone Man was constantly rubbing the bridge of his nose where headaches liked to go.  They were only beginning to connect the dots.  Through their mutual friend Mike the Brainiac, Tee Bone and Superdekes had made contact with another superhero on the west coast named Edie Van Heelin’.  While they successfully formed an alliance, it also brought Tee Bone and Deke into a larger world.  They had just become aware that evil powers from several levels higher than any they had dealt with before were now actively seeking to destroy them both.

They did not know much.  Deke had scribbled charts and diagrams on sheets of paper scattered on his desk.  Everything seemed to lead to a dead end.  The biggest lead they had was this Shinzon character.

Neither Deke nor Tee Bone Man had dealt with him directly, but Van Heelin’ and Brainiac had.  Shinzon had access to technology seemingly from the future, and he definitely reported to a higher power.  A higher power that had yet to reveal itself.  They also knew that Tommy Lee had allied himself as a lacky of Shinzon, and could not be trusted.  To be on the side of caution, Nikki Sixx, Vince Neil and John 5 were all also considered compromised.

“Think we should call it a night, Deke?” yawned Tee Bone.

“Yeah buddy, I don’t think we’re going to wrap up this case tonight.  There’s definitely a ‘Big Bad’ at the end of all this.  And that entity is definitely more than meets the eye.  That’s about all I can surmise at this moment.  Not very reassuring, I know,” yawned Deke in return.

“We do have this,” added Tee Bone as he tucked his glasses away and pulled a piece of paper from a shirt pocket.  “I’ve asked some friends of ours if they’d be willing to join the fight.  Join the Northern Lights.  Here’s the list of respondents.”  He handed Deke the paper, who peered down over his glasses.

“Wow…big names here.  Max the Axe…Bernard the Knight…King of the Sharks…Kevin the Mars Man…Snowman on financial support…Jex Rambo…the Durling Foundation…Brainiac…and Common Knowledge?  What’s he on this list for!?”

“Sorry, I accidentally copied him on the email chain.  He said yes, but I told him we were already full up!”

“Hah,” said Deke.  “Good call, if it was down to him or me, well, he’d be all yours pal!”  They both laughed at Tee Bone’s mis-sent email.  “There’s one name missing from this list,” added Deke with a somber tone.  “El Moustachio.”

Tee Bone looked down.

“Whereabouts still unknown.  I know he’d be with us if he could be.  Which is what concerns me the most.  He’d be here…which means he’s really in big trouble.”

Deke nodded in sad agreement.  “Are all these people on this list looking for him too?”

Tee Bone answered in affirmative.  “All but Max the Axe.  He’s looking for a new VCR.  Probably for the better.  We need to keep him at arm’s length or next thing you know, we’ll forget what we were all doing in the first place.”  Tee Bone paused a moment before they retired for the night.  “Listen…as impressive as some of the names on that list are…we’re going to need more.  I don’t know where to find them.  It was Shinzon’s blunder that put us in contact with Edie Van Heelin’ in the first place.  If there are other heroes in this universe, we’re going to need to find them ourselves.”

“Agreed,” said Deke.  “Strength in numbers.”

“We got the touch, we got the power,” said Tee Bone with a fist bump.  “G’night.”

Space.

Shinzon was aboard his personal spaceship, about to meet with Tyranus face to face for the first time since leaving the moons of Bogden.  Though he was always calm and stoic on his exterior, his insides were boiling in fear.  Tyranus would not be happy, for Shinzon had failed him.  Again.

Tyranus always saw him as a mistake, an abomination, garbage that should have been disposed of.   And this could be time for Tyranus to do just that.

His assignment was to set Van Heelin’ against Tee Bone Man and destroy them both.  Instead, he had created an alliance between them.  The worst possible outcome for Shinzon.  It was really all the Brainiac’s fault; the one factor nobody considered.  And Shinzon would have his revenge on the Brainiac.  It will come.

He thought a moment.  “What if…what if I simply…don’t go back to Bogden?  What if I don’t report back to Tyranus?  My chances are better in space, than with him.  Let him deal with Tee Bone and Van Heelin’ himself.  See how easy he finds it.”

Studying his starcharts, he made a choice.  With that, he changed course.

“Mars.  The Martians are not sympathetic to Tee Bone Man.  I’ll lay low on Mars for a while before I make my next move.”

An uncertain future ahead, Shinzon headed back to the Sol system.  It was not his home, yet it was.  On Mars he would be a stranger in a strange land once again.  But at least he would be free from Tyranus’ yoke.

For now.

The end.

 

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE ONE – THE SQUIRREL SAGA

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE TWO – THE MULTIVERSE SAGA

  • Chapter Eighteen:  Shinzon – Origins (By LeBrain)
  • Noirison Part One (By Holen) Coming soon
  • The Mole in Rock and Roll Heaven (by 80sMetalMan) TBA
  • Shinzon – Dread and the Fugitive Mind (By Harrison Kopp) TBA
  • The Death of… (By LeBrain) TBA
  • The Fate of… (By LeBrain) TBA

 

THE COMPLETE ADVENTURES OF EDIE VAN HEELIN’

THE WRITER’S ROOM

 

 

 

 

 

REVIEW: KISS Starchild “BlownUps!” review with laser light show (Paul Stanley Weeble Wobble)

From the  Dressed To Kill line by Jabberwocky Toys

5/5 star(child)s