Indian Bear Fetish

Sup Bogachevs

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 08:48:00 +0000

That's right I called you a Bogachev. Where are your witty comebacks now? Can't think of one, can ya? I knew that powerful insult would tongue tie you. Also, I'm doing the National Novel Writing Month thingy, over at nanowrimo.org they got all the info if you wanna start five days late. I've done this before and it's quite enjoyable, I'm putting The Cold Beak (the next thing I'm doing) on the backburper for a bit. Enjoy this thing I wrote last November about Stonewall Jackson:

SOLID GOLD STONEWALL

This story details the operatic saga of legendary civil war general Stonewall Jackson.
Sure, we've all heard of Fredericksburg and Antietam and Bull Run, but what happened to Stonewall Jackson AFTER the war between the states? Before this story, no one knew. But now I intend to draw back the curtain, to shed some light on this renowned, influential commander, as well as his storied final years.
Well, first things first, he became a cyborg. He couldn't handle the south's defeat, and decided to take matters into his own hands. He went over to Jefferson Davis' house one night, desperate for change.
"What've you got for me, Jeff?" he asked gruffly, taking a swig of whiskey. His dark, grizzled beard was tinged a faint red by the firelight of Davis' study.
The disgraced politician, leaning on the mantle, gazed into his fireplace, a bitter expression on his face. He'd been drinking. "Nothing." he said. "It's over, Jackson. Those damn Yanks have won. It's time to move on."
As he spoke these words, he could feel Stonewall's cold, piercing gaze on his back. "You know that's something I can't do." grunted the general.
Jefferson Davis sighed. He watched the fire dance for a moment, then said, "There is... something. But it's still in experimental stages."
Stonewall's dark eyes narrowed. "To the lab."
The former president nodded and pulled one of the candlesticks on the mantle. Like a lever it came down, and with a clank the fireplace swung outward, revealing a fluorescent-lit hallway. They took it to Jefferson Davis' secret lair, an amazing hidden laboratory filled with astonishing technology.
It was there that he made Stonewall Jackson, one of the south's most revered generals, into a cyborg.
When Stonewall Jackson awoke, he was made completely of gold. Gold arms and gold legs, gold hands and gold feet. Gold eyes and gold ears. A gold head with a gold brain, and a gold heart pumping liquid gold through his gold veins.
"I'm... I'm solid gold!" he exclaimed, looking himself over in a full-body mirror. "Is this what you would call... a cyborg?"
"Ah, not exactly." said Jefferson Davis. "Cyborgs are part robot and part human, and I assure you there isn't a drop of human left in your body."
"Then... then what am I?" asked Stonewall Jackson.
"A goldborg, Mr. Jackson." said Jefferson Davis coolly, sipping a fine wine. "A goldborg."
And so the reign of Solid Gold Stonewall began. He wiped out then-president Abe Lincoln with one punch in the face, then named himself Emperor of America. Nobody complained, for fear that they too would feel his wrath.
Drunk with power, he ruled America with an golden fist. Many assassins and insurgents rose to topple him, but all were crushed by his rippling golden musculature. Among these was his former leader and creator, Jefferson Davis. Everyone he defeated in battle he swallowed and digested, using their rich nutrients to fuel the golden gears that churned inside him.
Solid Gold Stonewall proceeded to invade Canada and Mexico, both nations falling feebly at his mighty golden feet. His army of gold-enhanced supermen breezed through South America to Antarctica, where he erected a 3000 foot radio tower, which would transmit gold beams across the entire planet. By New Year's Eve, everyone on earth would be slave to Stonewall.
However, just when Solid Gold Stonewall was celebrating in his colossal mansion with a glass of whiskey, the door to his study was rudely bashed in.
"WHO DARES?!" he roared, leaping out of his throne. A man and woman stood in his doorway.
"Hello, Solid Gold Stonewall." said the woman calmly.
The former general grinned evilly, revealing a row of golden teeth. "My personal congratulations on making it this far. It couldn't have been easy to disable my security drones. However, the journey ends here."
He fired a gold cannonball out of his mouth, and was shocked as it merely bounced off the man's face. He neither moved, nor blinked.
"It will take more than that to defeat us, Jackson." said the man.
The look of shock on Solid Gold Stonewall's face evaporated, replaced by a look of guarded curiosity. "Who are you people?"
Then, without warning, the woman fired a gold cannonball of her own! It took Solid Gold Stonewall by surprise, hitting him in the stomach and knocking him backwards into a shelf full of books.
"You're... you're goldborgs!" he gasped.
"Yes." said the man. The duo dropped their holograms, revealing their true, gleaming yellow forms. "I am Rube Goldborg. This is Whoopi Goldborg. We have all the powers you have, and more."
Stonewall's expression changed again, this time to disgust. "Davis."
"Yes." said Rube Goldborg. "Before you quashed his uprising, he created us. Should his mission fail, we would be unleashed. To do what humanity could not."
"To defeat me."
"Precisely."
Stonewall stood up and dusted himself off. "You could join me. Together, we could rule this pitiful planet. And beyond. Soon, the grip of our influence could reach to the stars!"
Whoopi Goldborg shook her head, her golden dreadlocks reflecting patches of shimmering firelight around the room. "Humans do not belong to goldborgs. Goldborgs exist to serve humanity."
"But we could do more! We could rule!" raved Solid Gold Stonewall.
"But we won't." said Rube Goldborg. "I'm sorry it had to be this way." He solemnly pulled a rope which dangled next to his head. This rope was connected to a cat's tail, causing the startled animal to jump up in the air. It hit its head on a bell, tricking two boxers into thinking it was time for a match. They beat the snot out of each other until one fell, accidentally switching on a stove as he collapsed. There was a pot of water on top of the stove, and as it boiled, the rising steam caused a balloon to rise. This balloon was attached to a small gate, and upon the lifting of the gate a bowling ball was allowed to go careening down a large chute. This bowling ball was tied to the trigger of a carefully placed gun, shooting and killing the hapless Solid Gold Stonewall.
"I did all I could... to make a gold utopia..." were the general's final words before closing his gold eyes.
After that day, the earth returned to normal. The world chose to overlook these dark times, and Solid Gold Stonewall was completely written out of the history books. Whoopi Goldborg and Rube Goldborg were never seen again. Rumor has it they changed their names, put up their holograms, and learned to live among us as normal people. But that, of course, is just a myth.
THE END

Gasping Garfield

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 08:59:00 +0000

Hay peeps, I finished a book! It's called Unsubtle Gundam Reference and it's about these time travelers. However it's far too smooth, far too suave to unleash upon the planet just yet. I'll save it and release it paired with another short book, like I did with Dean. I've already started on the next one and I have a hunch it'll be worth the wait. I'll post some stories in here to hold thee over pretty soon. Also Garfield died yesterday RIP he choked on some tainted lasagna such a great artist and personal friend etc.

Treebeard

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 04:55:00 +0000

You ever think about Treebeard? Do the other Ents ever resent his popularity? Sure, Treebeard's a celebrity now, but at what cost?

In other news I'm still writing and so on. I'm getting close to finishing a top secret project. Will the world be ready? Perhaps. We shall see. I will consult the runes and let you know.

Fishing Villages 101

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 06:44:00 +0000

What's up all. I've been writing up a storm lately. Literally I have been writing skyward on the funnel of a tornado. This is sure to be my most powerful novel yet, as it will channel the ferocity of the elements like no other piece of literature before it.

Indian Bear Fetish Radio!

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Thu, 12 Feb 2009 06:35:00 +0000

If you'll look to your right you'll notice something fancy and black. It's called Indian Bear Fetish Radio! 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, we'll be spinning fantastic feel-good jams, each one carefully selected to enhance your reading experience. So next time you reread that worn copy of Dean, be sure to tune in to IBFR for some tasty background ear candy.

Fun Larynx Facts

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Tue, 27 Jan 2009 06:22:00 +0000

A little known fact is that every human larynx has a small lynx inside it. Indeed, we all have lynx kittens in our throats, screaming and scrabbling to get out. Our throcal chords absorb their meowing and transform it into what we know as speech. The truth is that humans have no voices of our own, we rely on baby lynxes for communication almost entirely. Anyways now you know a little bit about the human body, check back later for more wacky anatomy facts.

The November Articles

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Thu, 11 Dec 2008 08:34:00 +0000

Well, I've started writing the next book. Life goes on I guess. Never slow down, never give up, that's the Heman way. During November I wrote a bunch of short stories, I thought I might make the next book a short story collection but it'll probably never happen. My attention span is short enough to make none of my full-length books coherent but it isn't short enough to crank out short work after short work. Anyways I'll probably post some of these to give you an idea of what's going down. Here's the first one:

THEY CAME FROM SPOTICUS 5

It ruffled and fluttered through the trees as it descended. A weave, a bob, a sudden curl as it sloped to earth.
The small oval, not yet used to the earth's dense atmosphere and formidable turbulence, righted itself with great difficulty and lowered it's landing gear. It wasn't much larger than a leaf of notebook paper, and it's thickness was about equal.
It touched down on short, carefully trimmed grass. Creatures began to emerge. They resembled tiny, flat spots. The spots possessed the ability to float, and used it to explore what they would later learn was a human lawn.
"Smokin'!" said a teenage girl, scooping up some of the invaders. "Check out all these badass spots I just found!"
"Whatever, you didn't find those!" said her little brother.
"Did too!" said the girl. "They were right there on the lawn! Boy, wait'll my friends see these!"
"Why would your friends care about a bunch of spots?" asked the boy. "More importantly, why would YOU care about a bunch of spots?"
"Duh, when I wanna skip school all I have to do is put some of them on my face. I'll moan and cough a bit and mom will think I'm sick." said the girl. "I'll never have to go to class again! Muahaha!"
"Glory lanes!" exclaimed the kid, awestruck. "I knew you had a scheme cooked up!"
"Always!" his big sister replied. "Now, help me catch some more and I'll let you keep half!"
"Oh thank you! Blessed art thou!"
Meanwhile, the spots were totally pissed off. Their flight path was erratic as they tried desperately to shake off the huge beasts. They were unimaginably... tall! Such thick objects were unheard of on their home planet.
"Yah! Yah!" shouted the boy, swinging at them with a butterfly net. "En garde, ye spotly spits!"
"Dude." said the teenage girl, suddenly dead serious. "What the fuck."
"What?" he asked.
"A butterfly net? You think this is a game?" The girl narrowed her eyes. "These are spots we're dealing with. Who knows what kind of diseases they could be carrying!"
"What does that have to do with-"
"Oh please, even you're not that stupid!" said the girl. "Everyone knows butterfly nets are CARRIERS!"
"Oh shit!" said the boy, dropping the one he was holding. "I had no idea!"
"It might already be too late." said his sister solemnly.
The boy coughed. "Quick, sis! You gotta get me to a hospital!"
"There's no time." said the girl, with calm, saddened acceptance. "Just try to relax. It'll be over soon."
The boy, not yet in middle school, decided it would be best if he simply resigned to his fate and went to the end with dignity. However, just when he was announcing his resignation at their backyard podium, something magical happened.
The mysterious spots began floating out of the ship in droves, thousands upon thousands of them. They floated across the lawn as a flat sheet of white, heading towards him.
"Wow!" said the girl, fascinated. "This is amazing! What are these things?!"
The boy didn't know. But somewhere, deep down inside, he knew they were trying to help.
The sheet of white wrapped around his body, gently enveloping him in a soft, snug coccoon.
At first, the girl thought they might be angels, here to carry him off to the afterlife. But she was proven wrong when they ruthlessly crushed his ailing body like an anaconda. Their white, spotlike bodies stained with blood, they disembarked from their victim, revealing a gruesome pile of mangled flesh.
The girl screamed and ran as fast as she could. This turned out to be pretty fast, since she was in great shape from being on the school's track team, and it was enough. The spots were quick for their size, but she soon lost the gliding sheet of death.
She staggered into a police station, sucking in deep, heaving breaths while clutching a cramp in her side. "Officer! There's a sheet from space after me! It killed my brother and now it wants me!"
"Ma'am, have you been smoking the golly leaf?" said the cop seriously.
"Uh, it's called pot, officer." said the girl. "And no, I haven't."
"How about snorting the devil's grain? Shot any slouching honey lately?" inquired the cop.
"No!" said the girl. "I'm completely sober, officer! The threat of space sheets is REAL, and unless we do something the whole world is in danger!"
"Space sheets. Riiight." burped the cop lazily. "I suppose next you'll tell me there's an anthropomorphic coastal fortress attacking town hall!"
The cop's police radio crackled to life. "Officer Snagdaddy! We need backup, fast! You're not gonna believe this, but I'm at town hall and there's some kinda huge oceanfront stronghold-"
"Not now, Jensen!" barked Officer Snagdaddy. "I'm romancing a fine lady!"
"Sorry sir!" said Jensen meekly. The transmission ended.
"I apologize for that interruption." said Officer Snagdaddy, putting on some Barry White. "Now how about you forget your little sheet problems and let 'The Snag' make it allll better?"
"Dude!" said the girl. "I'm sixteen!"
"That's when woman fruit is at it's ripest." explained the law enforcement officer. He looked her over lecherously. "Yep, I'd say you're just about ready to pick, heh heh..."
"Yuck!" said the girl. "Go pick someone your own size!"
Just then, the sheet from space started clawing at the window.
"Aiiieeee!" shrieked the girl, jumping under a table.
"Aw, how cute! It's just a baby!" squealed the cop, jumping to his feet and throwing open the station door. "C'mon in, little guy! Would you like a ball of yarn to play with? Or, perchance, a saucer of milk?"
"You idiot, this is a murderous beast we're dealing with!" screamed the girl. "Milk? The only way we're leaving HERE is in a BODY BAG!"
"Actually, some milk would be great." said the sheet. "Can I have some fish too? Red snapper if you've got any."
"Coming right up!" said The Snag, putting on his apron.
"What? That's all you want?" asked the girl, confused. "Then why did you smash my brother?"
"He looked like a fish." shrugged the spot sheet. "The sun was in our eyes, alright? Lighten up."
"Don't tell me to lighten up, you plump otter!" spat the girl. "Do you have any idea who my father is?!"
"No, who?" yawned the sheet.
"Lord Ravalon of the sheet kingdom." said the girl. "And I've got a funny feeling he wouldn't be too thrilled to hear about this unfortunate misunderstanding."
"Misunderstanding? Corey, what IS this earth female blabbering about?" said one of the spots in a vaguely British accent.
"We look like a sheet." said Corey grimly, obviously the spots' military commander. "And Ol' Ravalon don't take too kindly to copyright infringement."
"You're fanged right he doesn't." said the girl, hesitant to use the D word.
Just then Lord Ravalon showed up, and the shit really hit the fan. He was a sheet with a jewel-encrusted crown, a scepter of power, and a flowered print.
"WHO DARES CREATE UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTIONS OF MY VALUABLE INTELLECTUAL PROPERTIES?" bellowed Lord Ravalon in a deep, booming voice.
"They do, pop!" said the girl, pointing at the crooked space spots.
"AH, EXCELLENT SLEUTHING, DAUGHTER." said Lord Ravalon. "YOUR PRIVILEGED, UNCHALLENGED UPBRINGING AS MY ROYAL PROGENY HAS CLEARLY NOT SOFTENED YOUR DEDUCTIVE REASONING."
"Thanks."
"You'll never take us, old man! We are the mighty space spots! All Earth copyrights are ours to violate!" said Corey.
"YOU ARE DIRELY MISTAKEN! FOREVER SHALL YOU RUE THIS DAY!"
"Fish is done!" said The Snag, walking into the room carrying a huge platter of fish. "No Red Snapper, but these Basses were just caught this morning!"
"I THINK IT'S BASSI." said Lord Ravalon.
"Basses, bassi, what's the difference?" sulked The Snag, becoming emo. "At the end of the day, these tears are still real." He started softly weeping. "These tears... still hurt."
"It tastes great either way." exulted the space spots, after some of them formed a mouth so they could consume the tasty fish. "My compliments to the chef."
"IS THAT EVEN A COMPLETE SENTENCE? ENGLISH MUST NOT BE YOUR FIRST LANGUAGE." said Lord Ravalon insultingly.
"We were raised space spot, yes." said Corey sensitively.
"YOU PEOPLE MAKE ME SICK. YOU COME TO EARTH, TAKE OUR JOBS, KILL OUR KIDS, SEDUCE OUR BEAUTIFUL EARTH WOMEN, VIOLATE OUR CREATOR'S RIGHTS, AND YOU DON'T EVEN SPEAK THE LANGUAGE." said Lord Ravalon. "GO BACK TO SPOTICUS 5 OR WHEREVER THE FUCK YOU COME FROM."
"Greater Spotulia, actually." sniffed Corey. "Lets go, gang. I can tell when we're not wanted."
"OH, YOU CAN? WE'RE SO IMPRESSED." said Lord Ravalon sarcastically. "ANY DAY NOW YOU'LL LEARN TO READ!"
Everyone in the room laughed heartily, except the spot people of Greater Spotulia, who fled the room, and the planet, in tears.
"Whoa-ho!" chuckled The Snag. "Did somebody say run-on sentence?"
"Sure did." said the Run-on Sentence Elicitor, chewing some beef jerky and wearing tons of studded leather. "You got a problem, tiny?"
"N-no sir." gulped The Snag, trembling with fear.

ALL SCARS GO TO HEAVEN IS HERE!

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Thu, 13 Nov 2008 20:56:00 +0000

http://www.lulu.com/content/4478717
http://www.lulu.com/content/4478717
http://www.lulu.com/content/4478717
http://www.lulu.com/content/4478717!!!

In a move clearly influenced by Radiohead, I'm allowing you to pay any price you want for All Scars Go To Heaven. $0.00, $7.56.... the choice is yours!

It's still on fictionpress too if that's more your speed.

And don't be fooled by the cover's apparent lack of snails! Look closely and one will reveal himself! The only catch is... you have to believe.

Halloween 08

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Sat, 01 Nov 2008 03:16:00 +0000

Sorry, still not done with the book, however I've put up the first chapter on fictionpress so you can at least get started! More chapters to come while I keep striving to finish this. Thanks for tha patience!

Read:
http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2590672/1/All_Scars_Go_To_Heaven

Also, here's something else to "tide" you over!

_/\_

It's a gnarly wave.

holla

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Thu, 09 Oct 2008 07:28:00 +0000

Let's git jolly with an update!

I've been too busy finishing the book and getting kicked out of my house and watching Star Trek to update this blog, and there's no excuse for that. So to make up for it here's some basic info on the book, which I'm currently penning the last chapter of, and will be in your hands significantly before Halloween!

Title: All Scars Go To Heaven
Plot keywords: Scars, the afterlife, intrigue, drama, hip-hop, Cedar Gulch, hatred, comraderie, blackmail, redemption
Expected number of copies sold: 3.5 billion

I haven't given up on putting a snail on the cover, by the way! I made a promise and I intend to keep it!

Heyyyy, popsicle bill, what did you chill, popsicle bill

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 05:51:00 +0000

Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Who shot Biggie? What did popsicle bill chill? These are all questions we have to ask ourselves at one point in our lives. But none so pressing as the question of when Jonah Heman's latest smash hit novel will hit store shelves. I don't have a specific date fer ya, but I am drawing closer. I'm as eager to finish this book as you are to buy it and frame every page individually, so look forward it being completed soon enough.

Excitement surrounding the release of this has reached a fever pitch. The ratings for this year's summer olympics are lower than they've ever been, no doubt because millions of people would rather sit at their computers and refresh this page over and over again, desperate for info. Don't worry my friends, the wait will soon be over.

Slugged By A Fist Made Of Whistles

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Sun, 06 Jul 2008 04:51:00 +0000

So what's old Jonesy been up to these days? Oh, the usual! Working hard, writing feverishly, doing nothing but playing GTA4, and watching this completely useless anime called Revolutionary Girl Utena. Ever heard of it? It sucks!

The new book is inching closer and closer to completion. I'm tempted to put a snail on the cover to symbolize how long it's taking me to finish it. Be sure to watch Oprah in the weeks surrounding its release, it's guaranteed to have Book Of The Month status. Once you see the snail, you'll know.

Surveyor Blues

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Mon, 09 Jun 2008 05:50:00 +0000

Sup guys, have you ever been surveying? Let me tell you, it's no walk in the park. Enraged grizzlies, rattlesnakes bigger than your fist, angry boss man up in your grill, it's clearly not a job for the weak hearted. I've been holding my own though, just barely. I do it for you, I do it for my readers. If I weren't working and raking in Benjamins, I'd have more time to write because I wouldn't be playing ps3 all day. You might even have had my new book by now. And that would be disastrous. It's still too soon after the one two punch of Dean and The Waxy Heart Of Colonel Crawdaddy. Your bodies need time to recover, I know you want more but any extra Jonah action so soon runs the risk of an overdose.

In the meantime bone up on your vocabulary, cuz this text I'm preparing is a cornucopian surfeit of inessentially obfuscatory colloquies! Do you know what extrapioliatoring means? You'd better find out, because I use it in every sentence!

Choke Us, Poke Us

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Mon, 12 May 2008 05:01:00 +0000

Yow son I haven't posted here in a while, not that that's a real big deal. I've been hella busy with my awful new job and toning my abs to perfection. Gettin' ready for beach season fellas, and my bulk has to look its best.

I've also been bizzy working on my next book, which will probably never be finished but if it ever is, will be a world changing phenomenon. Even more world changing than these GUNS!!!! You can't see it but I'm flexing my world changing arm muscles now.

Presenting: The Jeep Jeep Five Anthem

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Mon, 10 Mar 2008 04:13:00 +0000

Four o' clock
Five o' clock
Six o' clock
Six o' clock?! More like DEEP six A clock!!!!

BOOM!
Send that clock back where it belongs
Bottom of the sea, boi, it ain't wrong
Back to tha ocean from whence it came
Clock deep sixa, that's my name

Table on the shelf, boi
Table in a box
Table and a Rob Roy
Table 'round the block

BOOM!
Don't let yo baby near it
Sheeps wanna shear it
Spirit's gotta fear it
Take a lesson from me
Like the birds and the bees
Cuz Tabletop Wax knows what you wanna see

BZZZT!
Yeah take it from a master
Take it from The Blaster
Things gonna get faster
You better stay in the pasture

Lions got big manes and they got big claws
The Blaster's got shock, yeah shock n' awe
Gonna beat up a lion, yeah that's my beat
Gonna drag that lion all over the street

BAM!
The rhythm's got who?
The rhyme's got who?
The Maid and the Mixer
Cause things are better in two

Keep the microphone where your mouth can see it
Keep your soul to the amp so the beats can free it
Leave a couple dollars on the microwave
The Maid and the Mixer got something to say

BOOM!
Clock Deep Sixa
The Maid and the Mixer
The master, The Blaster
and Tabletop Wax-er

The winds will howl and the fire will rage
And the Jeep Jeep Five will take the stage

......

Anyway, you can read Orangeade on fictionpress now if you so desire.

A Tribute To Tony Bennett

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 08:00:00 +0000

I LEFT MY HEARRRT IN SAAAN FRANCISSSCO, MAKE SURE TO PUUUT SOME FLOWERS IN YOUR HAIIIIRRR

Paolo Bacigalupi's book came out this month. In case you forgot, he's an amazing author, and you'd be doing the entire world a favor if you bought it:
http://www.amazon.com/Pump-Other-Stories-Paolo-Bacigalupi/dp/159780133X/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1202976338&sr=1-1

And so I leave you with a few profound parting words: A bushel's a bushel 'til it forgets its greed. Greed is the downfall of man and bushel alike, lest we forget.

Wishing you a...

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Sat, 05 Jan 2008 22:19:00 +0000

HOPPY new year!

Yeah son, who's got the mushy feet

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Mon, 17 Dec 2007 08:33:00 +0000

Mushy feet, mushy feet
Who da boi wit da mushy feet
They's sloppy and wet
And damp as can be
I wish dat boi was me

Thanks, that was a white hot sample of my amazing freestyle abilities. If anybody wants to challenge me we'll seriously throw down right here, that is if you think you can take me.

Read my stuff on fictionpress here:

http://www.fictionpress.com/~jonahheman

Right now the first part of The Waxy Heart Of Colonel Crawdaddy is all that's up, but I'll probably put all my stuff there eventually.

I AM SLAVE TO NO MAN

Times tables blues

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Fri, 16 Nov 2007 22:07:00 +0000

3 times 3 is 9. 4 times 12 is 48. These are the facts of life, and they got me down. I got the times tables blues somethin' awful, and the only respite for the pain in my heart-organ is a tall glass of mineral water. Why, there's one now!

I get in a taxy. "Follow that glass of mineral water!"

"The tall one?" asks the taxy driver.

"No, the short one." I sarcastically reply, rolling my eyes like dice in a cup. But the taxy driver doesn't catch my sarcasm and he follows the wrong glass of mineral water. Therefore the times tables blues haunt me forever. DAM THAT TAXY!

A Message For The Future Josh

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Fri, 02 Nov 2007 07:50:00 +0000

I don't know anyone named Josh, but in the future I might. When that day comes, hopefully this message will bring him tidings of joy and make him feel like every day is spring cleaning in his soul.

Wutup Josh, how's it going. I'm feeling good, how about you? Thanks. Nice weather we're having, isn't it? Marvin Gaye is soul with a capital S.

Sincerely, Jonah Heman

SHOCKING NEWS

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Tue, 09 Oct 2007 06:44:00 +0000

I just got the results back from the lab, and my findings are terrifying in their implications. This new info is of interest to everyone in the scientific community, and is sure to radically change the way we look at our universe. Roget's Thesaurus was actually written not by Roget, but by Herbert. And Herbert was, in reality, a pirate's haircut. I await my Nobel Prize for this astonishing discovery.

Some less shocking news is that Dean/The Waxy Heart Of Colonel Crawdaddy has been #1 on the New York Times Bestseller list for 30 weeks now. Don't miss the cool winter read everyone's talking about, download today.

New books for the babyroot

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Tue, 25 Sep 2007 17:32:00 +0000

Okay babyroot, my two new books are out. You can get em both in one handy package riiiight here:
http://www.lulu.com/content/1238440

Their names are Dean and The Waxy Heart Of Colonel Crawdaddy, and they will open your eyes to the way things really are in the world. You can't afford to miss this opportunity to hear the global truth straight from the globe's mouth. Dean is 99 pages and The Waxy Heart Of Colonel Crawdaddy is 98 pages. Both are essential summer reading. Thanks.

Old goop

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Wed, 29 Aug 2007 08:19:00 +0000

I put the goop on my jacket and kept on smilin'. This was gonna be the day.

Is that the feel good story of the year or what? Really gives you a nice, peaceful feelin'. And it's all true. Every word of it. You can't get hard facts like this anywhere else. Only at Indian Bear Fetish, where the wheat grows tall and the corn grows taller. (TM)

So the new book should be out real soon. It's going to be the one that ushers in the new golden age of writing, so you really don't want to miss it. One month tops, pops.

All-New Grouchy Filth Action

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Sat, 14 Jul 2007 06:39:00 +0000

I figured it was about time this blog got some content, so I wrote some. This is a short little extra adventure in the world of Grouchy Filth. It answers a ton of nagging questions from the original work, and gives a wealth of additional insight into the characters and their motivations. It might only be 1 1/4 pages long, but trust me, you do not have the complete Grouchy Filth experience unless you read this.

"Drake, I saw you checking out my package today." said Miranda coolly. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

"I, I wasn't!" stammered Drake. "Honest! I would never!"

"But the question is, was it a look of shock? Of disgust? Did the fact that your little sister's a shemale finally sink in? Or-" asked Miranda, pushing him down onto the bed, "Was it a look of lust?"

"It-" started Drake, but before he could reply she covered his mouth with her own, frenching him passionately. After a moment of enduring her probing tongue and exploring hands, he managed to push her off.

"We, we can't!" he gasped. "You're my brister!"

"That makes it all the more exciting." she grinned devilishly, one of her wandering hands straying to his belt.

"Vi, we've got an emergency!" said Julie worriedly, clicking off the TV.

"Aw man, what are you doing?" whined Vi. "Brister: I Kissed 'Er is my favorite show! And it's a new one tonight, too!"

"You're just gonna have to catch it reruns." said Julie seriously. Her face was cast into suspenseful shadow. "There's something very, very wrong with the moon."

"What do you want ME to do about it?" asked Vi.

"Pretend to fix it in a way that makes me stop bothering you." suggested Julie.

"I guess I can manage that." she sighed. She got up off the couch and they wandered out of the tiny apartment to the elevator, taking it down to the ground floor.

"So what's wrong with the moon?" asked Vi, as they descended.

"I can't even explain it." said Julie seriously. "It's something you have to experience."

"Can I have a hint?" asked Vi.

"It starts with B, and E is the fourth letter." Julie replied.

"Hmmm." said Vi. "Boderoy?"

"Not quite." said Julie.

"Is it a noun or what?" asked Vi.

"It can be." said Julie mysteriously. They stepped out of the elevator and headed outside.

Without saying a word, she solemnly pointed up at the moon.

Vi stared at it. It was a perfectly normal looking crescent moon. "Boderoy?"

"No!" said Julie. "There's a huge 'BITE' taken out of it!"

Vi looked at it again and laughed. "Oh Julie! 23 years of age and STILL so naive!" Some friendly science music began playing. "You see, the moon is what we adults like to call a 'shapeshifter'. It changes it's form many times a month. These erratic, unexplainable changes are called 'phases'! Can you say 'phases', Julie?"

"I can say 'you're a condescending jerk'." said Julie grumpily.

"Then 'phases' shouldn't be a problem! I worried for nothing! Now, during these phases, the moon can look like any number of things! A circle, half a circle, not a circle... anything your imagination can conceive!"

"Even a circle with a bite taken out of it?" asked Julie.

"If you can imagine it!" said Vi whimsically.

"Well, thanks!" said Julie brightly. "That clears everything up."

"Glad to hear it." said Vi. Then, out of nowhere, Sally Moonbiter took a second bite of the moon, and then a third.

"Oh no! Sally Moonbiter!" shouted Vi. "Don't tell me she's back in town!"

"I'm gigantic!" Sally cheerfully reminded them.

THE END

I also thought it was time I added some consonants to this blog, so due to popular demand, here they are: BCDFGHJKLMNPQRSTVWXZ

Go ahead and count 'em, they're all there.

He looks so smug...

noreply@blogger.com (Jonah Heman) — Thu, 28 Jun 2007 03:44:00 +0000

I figured it was high time I updated this. Things are progressing with the thingy as they should be. Expect this book to be grouchier and filthier than Orangeade could ever hope to be. For a while there too I thought that this picture was awesome:

But I guess not.