Mala Fide dotcom

Happy Memorial Day.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
— Lt.-Col. John McCrae (1872 – 1918)

Happy Towel Day.

Arthur looked up. “Ford!” he said, “there’s an infinite number of monkeys outside who want to talk to us about this script for Hamlet they’ve worked out.”

And for extra points, Star Wars, the first one…the real one, was released on this date in 1977.

Han shot first!

Score! Another fake letter was published in the ‘Dear Margo’ column. It can be read at Creator’s Syndicate and at The Women on the Web. The WOWOWOW post allows comments and they’re as much fun as the letter.

This one was written by my pal, Mrs. King. She took my crappy note and rewrote it entire. It’s vastly better than the original. Very believably girly in a concerned momlike way. Perfect actually. I only made one small change (the part about the FBI) and sent it to “Dear Margo”. 85% credit to her.

Well played, Mrs. King. Well played.

Building on an evil idea, the point-of-purchase pop-up ad, used in another silly story, I give you:

2017 AD: The Assault

© 2009 Ray Adam Latiolais

He had been making groceries and was almost at his front door when the assault began.

Full lips and breasts filled his vision, swaying and enticing. Voices assailed him with offers sublime and obscene. Strident music interrupted his thought and distracted him beyond reason.

He shut his eyes and covered his ears but to no effect. He staggered the last few feet to the door and sagged against it.

Fumbling, he pulled his phone from his belt. He found the site more by instinct than thought. Cursing his clumsy fingers, he transferred the funds. Seconds later the assault ended.

Still trying to regain his composure, he opened his calendar and set a reminder to renew his ad protection a week before it ran out next time.

SHE WILL LOVE YOU ALL NIGHT LONG TIME!

The Unfact™ is, to the best of our knowledge, completely false and unsupportable. We are not responsible for any consequences that are bound to occur if you are silly enough to believe it.

The 1918 Spanish flu was named after the epidemiologist who first identified the strain, Dr. Roman Germaine Spanish.

What? Too soon?

Mala Fide dotcom uses StatCounter to, heh, count its stats. Among other things it tracks recently used search terms used to find the site. A couple of weeks ago StatCounter revealed this:

“@evilray My website is the first hit in a Google of ‘sf novel tribe of women travel in zeppelin’. 1 – COOL!, B – I would *so* read that novel.”

That would be a Google search for a science fiction novel about a tribe of women that travel in zeppelins. Yeah, I know! Great idea!

And writing it would even be better than reading it. I’ve been working out a plot, an ERBian planetary romance, a world far from Earth, the Earthian hero(es) transported there by mysterious means, a nation of rilly hawt, scantily-clad warrior chix in battle zeppelins fighting for survival on a deadly world…and then the idea of hot girl-on-girl action derails my train of thought. Yeah…like that.

I’ve dummied up a book cover and blurb to help my plotting along. I realize it’s like naming a band and deciding not to date supermodels before learning to play instruments, but that’s the really cool part of the process, isn’t it? And I didn’t misspell my own name, damn it. It’s ‘RAS Latiolais’. It’s just hard to distinguish the caps in that font.

Click on the thumbnails for a larger view.

Here’s the blurb in case the pic didn’t work out:

In 1921 Lorem Ipsum, ace pilot of the Great War, and Klug Stiefel, a scientific genius decades ahead of his
time, vanished while testing the ‘Spirit of Canarsie’, an aircraft of their own design. Hundreds of witnesses saw the ‘Spirit’ fly into a strange, pulsing cloud never to be seen again. On Earth. The cloud transported the two across space to an unknown and fantastic world. A world so terrible that its inhabitants took to the skies just to survive.

Rescued by a fleet of flying aircraft carriers, Lorem and Klug are prisoners and then guests of the Bosomians, a race of Amazons ruled by a terrible warrior empress. Gaining the Bosomians trust, the Earthmen and their skills become instrumental in the Bosomians never-ending war of survival against their horrific vampire-like foes, the Drowqule.

With Lorem’s bravery and Klug’s brilliance, the queen of the Bosomian’s will become the unopposed

MISTRESS OF THE STRATOSPHERE

Nice zepps.