Found a 3.5" diskette from 1995. Popped it in and bingo, a crapload of lyrics that I knew were around someplace but couldn't remember where they had ended up.

A lot of this stuff is crap, and there's a few gems amongst them. Most of them are…well, hell, you know the kind of stuff I write. Now imagine that with three musicians backing it up but even bleaker.

But then there was this, which stood out. I had forgotten this even existed.

purgatory, shotgun

i saw you driving that circus car
weaving all over the road
there was a thigh in your face & a knife in your ribs
& you needed a place to unload
so you saw my thumb & gave me a wink
& pulled over to the side
so i got in the back all folded in half
you said prepare for a bumpy ride

that was maybe yesterday
but the gas station just passed
i’m going the wrong way
and my lifetime’s done at last

January 24, 1995. What the hell was I thinking that day?

In it, all the chickens whose wings I had eaten slathered with hot sauce came looking for me. And they wanted revenge.

And they showed up on my front lawn. And demanded I come out and answer to them for having consumed bits of their bodies.

I did come out. And I took one look at them and said, "Oh, there you are! I hate leaving a job unfinished."

Then I scooped them all up and rotisserie'd them in the back yard. I left one alive to spread the word of the fate of its armless fellows. And the ones I did not eat I put in the freezer for later.

That was a great dream.

Well, folks, if you live in North Alabama–where I was spawned–and you want to stop by and say howdy or even buy a book, then put April 30th on the calendar. That's a Saturday, and from 1pm to 3pm, I'll be at Shaver's Bookstore selling and signing copies of Magnificent Desolation as well as Mystics. They're at 2362 Whitesburg Drive in Huntsville.

I'm going to try and read a little bit since I figure you can at least get a small show with your book, but don't hold me to that. We're going to play it by ear. If you have any questions about how to get there or whatever, just ping me. Oh, and bring 99 of your closest friends. Thanks.

Wired's Jargonwatch is always hellacious fun.

After Sue Dibny's murder–while pregnant, her on-panel (page and a half long) rape, the grey moral paint with which the Justice League I grew up with has been painted, and now the on-panel death of Blue Beetle (not to mention the viewing of his corpse), and the way the "fun" Justice League years have now been painted, plus the needless return of the character who is The Red Hood in the Batman book…

I hereby officially concede the DC Universe to the overgrown fanboys who are both writing and reading it. And to the editors who are asleep at the switch. They may all get off on the "bold, mature, edgy" content and the shoddy recycling of stories, but I've just had enough. There's far too much bad writing in the world to be paying for it in 32-page installments at $2 and $3 a pop.