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Why aren't these books on my shelf???

I was researching for my website and ohmygosh, stumbled over these two books! Why, oh why aren't they on my bookshelves already?

 

Dark Matter: A Century of Speculative Fiction from the African Diaspora (Ages 15+)

The Amazon.com review:

"Dark matter: the nonluminous matter, not yet detected, that nonetheless has detectable gravitational effects on the universe. Dark matter: the Afro-American presence and influences unseen or unacknowledged by Euro-American culture. Dark Matter: the first anthology to illuminate the presence and influence of black writers in speculative fiction, with 25 stories, three novel excerpts, and five essays. This anthology's critical and historical importance is indisputable. But that's not why it will prove to be the best anthology of 2000 in both the speculative and the literary fiction fields. It's because the stories are great: entertaining, imaginative, insightful, sharply characterized, and beautifully written. The earliest story in Dark Matter is acclaimed literary author Charles W. Chesnutt's "The Goophered Grapevine" (1887), in which an aging ex-slave tells a chilling tale of cursed land to a white Northerner buying a Southern plantation. In "The Comet" (1920), W.E.B. Du Bois portrays the rich white woman and the poor black man who may be the only survivors of an astronomical near-miss. In George S. Schuyler's "Black No More" (1931), an excerpt from the satirical novel of the same name, an African American scientist invents a machine that can turn blacks white. More recent reprints include science fiction master Samuel R. Delany's Nebula Award-winning "Aye, and Gomorrah..." (1967), which delineates the socio-sexual effects of asexual astronauts; Charles R. Saunders's heroic fantasy "Gimmile's Songs" (1984), in which a woman warrior encounters a singer with a frightening, compelling magic in ancient West Africa; MacArthur Genius Grant recipient Octavia E. Butler's powerful "The Evening and the Morning and the Night" (1987), in which the cure for cancer creates a terrifying new disease of compulsive self-mutilation; and Derrick Bell's angry, riveting "The Space Traders" (1992), in which aliens offer to trade their advanced technology to the U.S. in exchange for its black population. Other reprints include "Ark of Bones" (1974) by author-poet-folklorist Henry Dumas; "Future Christmas" (1982) by master satirist Ishmael Reed; "Rhythm Travel" (1996) by playwright-poet-critic Amiri Baraka (who has also written as LeRoi Jones and Imamu Amiri Baraka); and "The African Origins of UFOs" (2000) by London-based West Indian author Anthony Joseph.

Most of the stories in Dark Matter are original; these range even more widely in their concerns and themes. In the generation ship of Linda Addison's "Twice, at Once, Separated," a Yanomami Indian tribe preserves its culture in coexistence with technology, while visions tear a young woman from her own wedding. Bestselling novelist Steven Barnes examines degrees of privilege and deprivation when an African American woman artist is trapped in an African concentration camp in his unflinching contribution, "The Woman in the Wall." In John W. Campbell Award winner Nalo Hopkinson's sexy, scary "Ganger (Ball Lightning)," two lovers drifting apart try to reconnect through the separation of virtual sex. A mystic power awakens in the devastated future of Ama Patterson's gorgeous and tough "Hussy Strutt." An artist's infidelity changes two generations in Leone Ross's astute, magic-realist "Tasting Songs." In Nisi Shawl's sharp, witty mythic fantasy "At the Huts of Ajala," the spirit of a modern woman must outwit a god before she is even born. Others contributing new stories are Tananarive Due, Robert Fleming, Jewelle Gomez, Akua Lezli Hope, Honorée Fanonne Jeffers, Kalamu ya Salaam, Kiini Ibura Salaam, Evie Shockley, and Darryl A. Smith. --Cynthia Ward"

 

Dark Matter: Reading the Bones (Ages 15+)

"In the tradition of The Norton Anthology of Black Literature, DARK MATTER: READING THE BONES, like its ground-breaking predecessor, will introduce black SF, fantasy, and speculative fiction writers to those who have not yet realized the depth and breadth of their work-or even, in some cases, that it exists. Including original short fiction and nonfiction as well as previously published works and essays, DARK MATTER will contain approximately 30 stories from the early part of the century through the most cutting-edge work of today. Contributors to this new volume include Charles Johnson, National Book Award-winning author of Middle Passage; Tananarive Due; Walter Mosley, W.E.B. Du Bois; Samuel R. Delany; Nalo Hopkinson; and many more."

I can only ask myself, "Why aren't these books on my shelves?" I've added them to my own wish list because these are must-have collections for anyone seeking stories and books based on cultures outside of the traditional American/European sci-fi experience. (RDJ)

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2 New story ideas ???

The first one will be called " The ghost of Rodney King

Where the brother wil come back not to raise hell and cause problems or get revenge.

He will come back to observe and only interfere when somebody is getting some type of injustice served upon them.His new purpose is to preven what happen to him while here not to happen to anybody esle,especially if they are really innoncent.

 

The second one wil be based on the  idea of the lady who was just made a prosecutor of the internatioal court.

Only in this story it will be a universal court and  they will send out their people to arrest all  the  real criminals behind the scenes to be put on universal trial and   then  given a sentence of life in iimbo in time

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Fall of the Caretakers: The Conclusion

Invinci-Man slammed into him with a bone-crunching wallop, his massively muscled arms wrapping Jackson in a super powered bear hug. Jackson squirmed to break the grip, but his borrowed strength had run out. He was helpless as a field mouse in the clutches of a hawk. Gone was the look of casual indulgence on Invinci-Man’s face. A cruel glimmer shined from his eyes. Jackson felt exposed as a newborn in the light of the other’s utterly ruthless gaze. “We’re done toying with you.”

Invinci-Man went into a sudden dive. Jackson’s gut lurched. Within a millisecond of hitting the ground, Invinci-Man released his hold on the armored man with a shove and shot upward. Jackson torpedoed into the top of a tractor-trailer truck. Both tractor and trailer were sheared in half on impact an instant before the collision’s full force shredded them to scrap, producing a bruising shock wave that blew out every window in every building in the vicinity.

Jackson groaned. Half his body was embedded in concrete beneath the tractor/trailer’s flaming wreckage. His climate control must have been shot, which explained the failure of his armor to provide insulation from the ferocious fire-generated heat. He needed to get up and out before he baked to death inside his armor. He tried to extricate himself, but the entire left side of his suit refused to respond to his neuro-linked nudge. “NEED HELP?”

Jackson looked up to see the Nile Goddess plunging into the fire with star staff raised. She brought the staff down in a blurring stroke, striking Jackson’s paralyzed left shoulder. A crimson orb issued rapidly from the blow, followed by a powerful blast that tossed up an oil black mushroom cloud. A hot breeze cleared away the worst of the smoke. Jackson lay prone at the center of a deep, steaming depression.

Parts of his armor hung in scorched, tattered strips, barely connected to its pliable, carbon-nanotube inner layer. In some places the armor became porous, oozing globs of inertial gel. His AVD flickered in and out. Snowy static clouded the remainder of his displays. Of course he didn’t need diagnostics to tell him that his suit was no longer functional. As for his body, he ached to high hell from that final round of abuse inflicted on him by Invinci-Man and Candace.

The slightest motion ignited a firestorm of pain. But he weathered the suffering, rising slowly to his knees. He could rise no more. He pulled a string of release tabs along the upper section of his neck guard and removed his helmet, tossing it aside. Jackson ran a hand down his face, wiping away perspiration.

He lifted his head and saw that he was surrounded. Invinci-Man, the Nile Goddess, Windrider, the Blue Blur, and Machine-Ware loomed above him from the ridge of the depression. Undoubtedly, they would have slaughtered him on the spot. All it took was one word from Invinci-Man. Jackson stared at Invinci-Man, partly resigned, partly defiant, and waiting for the latter to give that word.

Instead, the leader of the Guardian Protectors hovered and descended into the pit, his expression softened by sympathy and memories of bygone fraternity. Jackson remembered as well, and for a moment the two men shared fond memories in silence. “What happened to you, Jeff?” Jackson asked with a tinge of anguish. “How did you of all people cross that line from a noble caretaker to being no better than the thugs, lowlifes, and murderers we used to battle?”

Invinci-Man tilted his head, his brow narrowing as if mulling over the question. “Call it enlightenment. One day an epiphany hit me. I realized that people don’t need caretakers, they need prison guards. They need control, discipline, structure. And if they go astray they need swift, harsh punishment to correct their errors. Who else can provide these things other than those of us endowed with the capabilities, be it by accident, design or birth, to exert our will over this depraved planet?”

“How has the killing of innocents made this world any better than before you decided to run rough shod over it?”

“I don’t worry about the innocent. What is that saying?” Invinci-Man caressed his broad chin in a show of thought. “Ah, yes…let God sort them out.” He settled on his haunches, looking Jackson square in the eye, scrutinizing, searching. “Your self righteous platitudes choke with hypocrisy. You hadn’t always abided by the law in your crime fighting. For all the wonderful hi-tech toys that sprang out of that genius head of yours, you were still nothing but a vigilante.”

Jackson dropped his eyes. “You’re right. I was a vigilante, albeit a glorified one. I admit to operating outside the law when I had to accomplish an objective. But this…what you and the others are doing…I never embarked down that path.”

“But you considered it! Didn’t you, Victor?!” Invinci-Man leaned in close until his piercing, umber eyed glare became the only object in Jackson’s scaled down universe. “Be honest. You never thought once about using your suit to its fullest potential?” Fullest potential. The question stung in ways Jackson couldn’t disregard. He kept his eyes averted, unwilling…or unable to meet the other’s gaze. Invinci-Man stood, choosing not to press for an answer. His tone weighed heavy with regret.

“You should have joined us, Victor. I hate that you forced me into this position. I would just love to plop you inside a maximum security lockbox somewhere far from civilization. But then I’d have to spend my every waking hour worrying that you might figure a way to escape. We can’t be distracted by loose ends. Not while we’re in the midst of whipping this world into shape. I can make this quick and painless for you. It’s the least I can do for a friend.” Jackson eased his way to a standing position. Pain surged like electricity through his body.

“Thanks for the offer, Jeff,” he managed through gritted teeth. “But I have a second option.” Invinci-Man possessed multi-spectrum vision. Had he used the X Ray portion, he would have spotted a thumbnail size wafer lodged beneath Jackson’s temple. Jackson pressed a finger to his temple, activating an implant. That action sent up a transmission to a satellite orbiting in geo-sync directly above Valor City’s South District. Invinci-Man’s brow crinkled in suspicion. Suspicion morphed into alarm.

He made a move toward Jackson. “What are you…” A haze of light suddenly filled the depression. Jackson squeezed his eyes shut. Even so, the searing brightness soaked through his eyelids, fully immersing him in a glaring void of white. Seconds, moments, minutes may have passed. Jackson had no idea. It was like he slipped into a crease in time.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. Invinci-Man was gone. Jackson searched the ridge. The others were also gone, seized by the light. “And this was the least I could do for a friend.” Jackson sank back to his knees as exhaustion took its toll. Intelligence Chief Yohannes Brady approached the ambulance where a paramedic just completed wrapping Victor Jackson’s ribs in bandages. Jackson gently prodded the area above his two cracked ribs and winced. Brady expressed something close to paternal concern.

“How are you, Ace?” Jackson’s lips parted minimally in a tired smile.

“I could be better.” He gave a thumbs up. “But I’m alive.” The intelligence chief looked around, taking in the bleak sight of a neighborhood resembling old footage he’d seen of Berlin in the aftermath of World War II. The place had truly been a warzone. The difference in this case was that the combatants comprised one human, of extraordinary brilliance with technology to match, pitted against a squad of super-powered psychopaths. Brady had to shake his head at the wonder of it all.

“Your suit held out pretty well. Longer than I expected to be honest.” “It took some hellified punishment, didn’t it?” Jackson boasted. On a serious note, he added: “I upgraded it. I needed it to last just long enough for me to gather them in one area.”

“And spring your trap,” Brady finished. “What exactly was that light beam from the sky? A weapon? Did it kill them?”

Jackson shook his head. “No, they’re not dead…at least I’m sure they’re not. There exists multiple universes, multiple realities. I discovered a way to open a door to any one of them. The satellite I built created a portal.” Brady gave a look verging on merriment.

“You sent Invinci-Man and his gang to another universe?”

“I’m not exactly comfortable with that outcome,” Jackson qualified soberly. “I would’ve liked to have had time to vet universes before I used the portal. Now, I’m afraid I might have sent them to a populated realm where they’ll be able to duplicate the terror they’ve created here. But I needed to get them out of this universe with all due haste, before they caused further pain and suffering.”

The intelligence chief nodded thoughtfully. “Humanity is going to be damn grateful to you for getting rid of them. And don’t worry. Chances are you sent those bastards to a place without people. They could be stranded on a dead world.”

Jackson considered the possibility. “Could be.” At that moment, a sleek black SUV limo pulled up beside the ambulance. The driver, a long-legged, cocoa skinned beauty (whom Brady suspected might have served Jackson in other ways) emerged from the vehicle.

“Mr. Jackson, thank God you’re all right,” said the driver reaching for her employer’s arm. “Hello, Chastity…no, please, I don’t need help. Thank you.” Chastity held back her assistance, but remained vigilantly close as Jackson moved gingerly toward the limo.

“And where are you off to?” Brady asked.

“Home,” replied Jackson. “I’m going to hit the sack and sleep for a week…maybe two.”

“Oh.” Brady looked troubled and hesitant, but only for a second. He tried to mask his unease with affability. “Hey, uh, why don’t you hang out with me for a little while. We can run to the local office, you provide a debrief, and afterward I’ll treat you to your favorite restaurant.” Nothing in the intelligence chief’s manner escaped Jackson’s keen notice. Which is why he enjoyed seeing the other trying to suppress a squirm as he refused the invitation.

“Appreciate the invite, but I’ll debrief later. And my favorite restaurant is not in this city. It’s not in this country for that matter.”

Chastity opened the limo door. “Victor,” Brady called out. “How does it feel being the only Guardian Protector?”

Jackson’s expression dimmed with melancholy. “I’m no longer a Guardian Protector. They don’t exist anymore.” He stepped into the limo and the driver closed the door. An hour later, Jackson entered his ops center located in the basement level of his mansion. Chastity Hunter, his driver and assistant, frowned her disapproval, insisting her employer get some much needed rest. Jackson kindly declined her advice. Rest could wait for a few minutes. There was something he needed to check on. The side walls of his ops room were lined with book shelves that were neatly stocked with thousands of volumes. The facing wall was a gigantic terminal screen that doubled as a CCTV monitor.

A brown leather bound swivel chair and a large maroon desk with a computer and keyboard sat in the center. Jackson noticed the swivel chair was turned a hairbreadth of a degree to the left, evidence of an intrusion. His suspicion was confirmed. There were other ways he could tell that he’d been breached. One of them he picked up from MachineWare who long ago constructed micro-size video pickups the size of dust particles. Jackson had deposited a small handful of the micro-cams throughout the ops room, on the floor, the book shelves, the desk.

He pressed a key on the keyboard, bringing the wall screen to life. Then he inputted a code that pulled recorded visual data from the micro-cams and transferred it to the screen. A view of the ops room from the perspective of the west facing book shelf came up. Three figures in black skulked into the picture. One took a seat at the desk. The other two did a circuit around the room before taking guard positions on opposite sides of the door.

Dressed in head to toe black combat gear and armed with short barreled assault weapons, Jackson had no doubt the intruders were Intelligence Branch Para-Military ops soldiers. He fast-forwarded the scene. The soldier at his desk was typing on the keyboard. Jackson knew what the soldier was after. He was trying to crack Jackson’s network, gain access to his files in order to steal his technology. It was the schematics to the armored suit that they wanted in particular. That was the prize. Instead of feeling alarmed or violated, a certain amusement fell over Jackson. Brady’s people thought they had executed a clean in and out operation, undetected.

Of course, they did manage to bypass his security to get this deep into the mansion. Jackson would give them that. The Intelligence Branch didn’t recruit slouches. Good as the organization was, however, it wasn’t that good. The intruders still failed to hack into his files. Jackson tapped another key, bringing up a schematic of his suit. His network remained the most secure on the planet.

If the full resources of the federal government couldn't break it, no one could. He smiled. He actually liked Brady and had worked with the intelligence chief in the past. Strip away layers of subterfuge and a good person lay at the core of that which was Brady. Nevertheless, Jackson trusted the man about as far as he could toss the moon. Jackson plopped in his chair, fixated on the schematic. His thoughts raced back to the question Invinci-Man asked him…the question he didn’t want to answer.

But Jackson knew the answer. The temptation to abuse the power of his suit dogged him like a bad habit since he built the thing. The urge still beckoned, a devil’s enticing whisper appealing to the very worst aspect of himself, an aspect he could ill afford to let loose upon the world. He couldn't…would not follow the others down that dark path. Oh well. There was only one way to overcome temptation: get rid of the source. He could have turned over the suit’s schematics to the government. No good. The military would have replicated it. One super advanced armored suit had been enough. A mass produced army of suit wearing killers amounted to an affliction the world could damn well do without.

His finger hovered over the delete button. He faltered for a few seconds, before tapping the key. The schematic vanished from his screen. Years of research, development, creation… purged… gone. Jackson’s shoulders slumped. He was an ordinary citizen again. The world would have to tackle its own problems. Humanity didn’t need superheroes. It didn’t need caretakers. He stared at a blank screen, staving off feelings of loss and emptiness. He would get over it in time. He stood and walked out of the ops room.

He never looked back.

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Creative Obfuscation...

SapientUniversedotcom

The aide (Karl Rove) said that guys like me were "in what we call the reality-based community," which he defined as people who "believe that solutions emerge from your judicious study of discernible reality." I nodded and murmured something about enlightenment principles and empiricism. He cut me off. "That's not the way the world really works anymore." He continued "We're an empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality. And while you're studying that reality—judiciously, as you will—we'll act again, creating other new realities, which you can study too, and that's how things will sort out. We're history's actors ... and you, all of you, will be left to just study what we do."
Ron Suskind, NYT article, 2004

So, it is with heavy hearts we discern the truth: science is no cure for the made up mind, be it climate change, death panels or birth certificates, facts are for wimps and the dimension Rod Serling narrated on has become a functionality:

"There is a fifth dimension, beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition."

Welcome to the USA: we create our own realities and act on them as if they were true. Engaging in creative obfuscation, we make faith a lie and lies its charleton pimp: never clear on the facts, but Paul Bunyan tellers of tall myths; reinforcing our worldviews only with those we agree with; only opening our mouths to bark the latest sound bite. It's no wonder as a nation we're falling behind in STEM careers; it's no wonder our children's attention spans are short: modeled after our adult Twittering own, with the lifespan of dung heap fleas.

Could we even agree - now in the 21st century - to disagree as well as Sam and Ralph?
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Here is a story

Ok, I was doing a PC tech job on a NASA base. I saw in the hallways a number of older black women who were scientist or engineers. I still imagine older black women as grandmas' or aunts', sort of like the seer in the Matrix movie. Can you imagine granny in her granny dress, baking cookies or cooking a stew being a space scientist and her roles criss-crossing to save a space mission or the class science project.

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Need Comments: Black Steam

 Black Steam: A steam punk novel

<This is my intro . . . am i too far off base? >>

Black people who came to America did not always arrive in chains. They arrived by luxury China Clipper sailing ships, underneath giant bags of hydrogen gas,  or on the backs of giant  Vodoun eagles. These people brought the philosophy, socery and science of Africa to the emerging New World. But their divine mission was not to build an Empire to rule over human civilization; the African ancestors had demanded that the chosen people be put back on the right course and onto a proper timeline.

Thus, with the divine help of the Africans, the Southern Confederate States were destined to defeat  the Northern Federal Union in the American Civil War. But even the Ancestors make mistakes and rely upon “The Gifted Messengers” to set things right.  

-- Black Steam coming Fall 2012

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FREE Kindle Book

My friend, in honor of her father, has her book up for FREE for today and tomorrow (June 10 and 11).All she asks is that if you like it, if you'd be so kind as to write a short review.Memory's Child by Lynnette Spratley. This is an 18+ book, there are scenes of violence, rape and vengence in it. Not for young teens.Link: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B007DQ4WHQ/ref=as_li_tf_il?ie=UTF8&tag=razzjam-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B007DQ4WHQ
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Osguards Rule!

In Osguard: Homecoming, the first book in a series of space adventures by Malcolm Dylan Petteway, we're introduced to an African American family descended from two slave sisters who came from a far off land...a land that happened to be on another planet called Ckaktun. The sisters would survive the horrendous ordeal of American slavery and go on to found a vast interstellar alliance comprising sixty galaxies. The Osguards are the leaders of the Universal Science Security and Trade Association of Planets. This is the Star Wars' Empire on steroids. In fact Palpatine would have to think more than twice before even contemplating an attack on this multi-galaxy colossus.We were also introduced to USSTAP's enemy, the Kulusk Empire, and its ambitious war mongering leader, Kie Ritchen. Battle lines were drawn in Book One and the two powers clashed in a war waged on many fronts, including Earth. In Osguards: Revelations, Malcolm's second installment, that war has taken a particularly deadly turn when Kie Ritchen launches a biological attack against USSTAP's capitol. The bioagent used in the attack threatens to wipe out USSTAP's command and control, leaving the organization wide open for annihilation at the hands of the Kulusks. Jaunita Genesis-Clark is the only Osguard not incapacitated by the agent. An antidote exists, but she must travel on a perilous journey to the very heart of the Kulusk Empire to obtain it. At the same time, she must deal with the murder of her young cousin on Earth and confront the estrangement of a jealous relative.Malcolm switches seamlessly between Earth bound issues of violent crime on the streets of Shreveport, Louisiana and war and intrigue in far distant parts of the universe. The scope of this riveting tale is not limited to spatial. Malcolm takes us on a trip through time, back to the latter 19th century, 20 years after the ashes of the Civil War had settled. In a sustained flashback, we follow the heir to the Kulusk throne and his brother as they travel to Earth, sent by their father to eliminate the descendants of the Chaktun sisters. Here, Malcolm does a fantastic job of weaving science fiction and history, as he ties in the African American experience during post Reconstruction with the Kulusk brothers' murderous efforts to track down their quarry.And then there is a 21st century U.S.president's unraveling attempt to contain the secret that is USSTAP. On top of that, USSTAP is faced with yet another threat...There is a lot going on in Book Two. Malcolm has upped the ante and increased the stakes. Once again, the action is rapid and adrenaline-raising, the characters, rendered with fine strokes of depth, and the settings, wondrous. Another plus about Revelations, is its throwback appeal. It has a Golden Age science fiction quality that will definitely attract fans of that era as well the techno aspect that will draw in the Tom Clancy crowd. Osguards: Revelations is a must read. I fully expect Book Three to crank it up further.
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Ray Bradbury...

"On June 6, 2012, Ray Bradbury, the Universe's writer, was called back to his galaxy." - Orange County Screenwriters Association


JUNE 6, 2012


Ray Bradbury, recipient of the 2000 National Book Foundation Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters, the 2004 National Medal of Arts, and the 2007 Pulitzer Prize Special Citation, died on June 5, 2012, at the age of 91 after a long illness. He lived in Los Angeles.

In a career spanning more than seventy years, Ray Bradbury has inspired generations of readers to dream, think, and create. A prolific author of hundreds of short stories and close to fifty books, as well as numerous poems, essays, operas, plays, teleplays, and screenplays, Bradbury was one of the most celebrated writers of our time. His groundbreaking works include Fahrenheit 451, The Martian Chronicles, The Illustrated Man, Dandelion Wine, and Something Wicked This Way Comes. He wrote the screen play for John Huston's classic film adaptation of Moby Dick, and was nominated for an Academy Award. He adapted sixty-five of his stories for television's The Ray Bradbury Theater, and won an Emmy for his teleplay of The Halloween Tree. In 2005, Bradbury published a book of essays titled Bradbury Speaks, in which he wrote: In my later years I have looked in the mirror each day and found a happy person staring back. Occasionally I wonder why I can be so happy. The answer is that every day of my life I've worked only for myself and for the joy that comes from writing and creating. The image in my mirror is not optimistic, but the result of optimal behavior.

He is survived by his four daughters, Susan Nixon, Ramona Ostergren, Bettina Karapetian, and Alexandra Bradbury, and eight grandchildren. His wife, Marguerite, predeceased him in 2003, after fifty-seven years of marriage.

 

Throughout his life, Bradbury liked to recount the story of meeting a carnival magician, Mr. Electrico, in 1932. At the end of his performance Electrico reached out to the twelve-year-old Bradbury, touched the boy with his sword, and commanded, Live forever! Bradbury later said, I decided that was the greatest idea I had ever heard. I started writing every day. I never stopped.

Web site: RayBradbury.com
CNN: Sci-fi legend Ray Bradbury dies

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Queen Philippa: England's First Black Queen

England's First Black Queen, Mother of the Black Prince

Philippa was the daughter of William of Hainault, a lord in part of what is now Belgium. When she was nine the King of England, Edward II, decided that he would marry his son, the future Edward III, to her, and sent one of his bishops, a Bishop Stapeldon, to look at her. He described her thus:

"The lady whom we saw has not uncomely hair, betwixt blue-black and brown. Her head is cleaned shaped; her forehead high and broad, and standing somewhat forward. Her face narrows between the eyes, and the lower part of her face is still more narrow and slender than the forehead. Her eyes are blackish brown and deep. Her nose is fairly smooth and even, save that is somewhat broad at the tip and flattened, yet it is no snub nose. Her nostrils are also broad, her mouth fairly wide. Her lips somewhat full and especially the lower lip…all her limbs are well set and unmaimed, and nought is amiss so far as a man may see. Moreover, she is brown of skin all over, and much like her father, and in all things she is pleasant enough, as it seems to us."

Four years later, Prince Edward went to visit his bride-to-be and her family, and fell in love with her. She was betrothed to him and, in 1327, when she was only 14, she arrived in England. The next year, when she was 15, they married and were crowned King and Queen, in 1330, when she was heavily pregnant with her first child and only 17.

This first child was called Edward, like his father, but is better known as the Black Prince. Many say that he was called this because of the colour of his armour, but there are records that show that he was called 'black' when he was very small. The French called him 'Le Noir'.

Philippa was a remarkable woman. She was very wise and was known and loved by the English for her kindliness and restraint. She would travel with her husband on his campaigns and take her children as well. When the King was abroad she ruled in his absence. Queen's College in Oxford University was founded under her direction by her chaplain, Robert de Eglesfield in 1341 when she was 28. She brought many artists and scholars from Hainault who contributed to English culture.

When she died, Edward never really recovered, and she was much mourned by him and the country. King Edward had a beautiful sculpture made for her tomb which you can see today at Westminster Abbey.

http://www.hickeyclan.com/William/d1304.htm

Queen Phillipa
England's first black Queen
Mother of the black prince

 

 

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As i sit here and think about what ifs and why nots, I research certain questions and i see the questions repeated over and over again but to no avail. Why arent there more black superheroes in the movies and mainstream comics even? Where are all the black heroines that i know are out there waiting to have their movies made? Where are the black comics? Milestone set the bar high what have we done since?

 

They say the world isnt ready to accept an black hero i say bull, what about Blade? Why havent new stars been given the nod yet( Michael Jai White) Who can pretty much take anybody out he darn well pleases and yet we have him doing comedy roles. Really? Is that the best we can do for someone born to be an action star like him comedy?  Tell me what you think

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First page of my graphic novel

I use Sketchbook Pro for my thumbnails and Manga Studio Debut to lay out the book.  I also draw thumbnails in pencil and scan into Sketchbook Pro.  This is my first attempt so the learning curve is quite high but the process is fun.  Like being a kid again!  I created a twelve page teaser and got some feedback.  Spent the time since retooling the script for the first issue.  I'll spend the summer completing the first issue

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NOW IN PRINT!!! The Serpent Cult


I'm jumping off the walls!!!
The Serpent Cult is now available in PRINT!
So for those who love to read action adventure WHILE actually FEELING the pages and the weight of the book in your hands you can grab it on CreateSpace or at Amazon

Of Course for those trendy techo savy futurists it's also good to go on Kindle and NOOK!


I'm working on my own Website now where I'll be posting all things Mountairy Rock!
Your Boi,
Howard Night (The NIGHTMANAGER!!)

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After spending the Memorial Day Weekend watching both seasons of 'The Walking Dead', it occurred to me there needs to be a set of rules to guide those who plan on surviving a Zombie Apocalypse.

Though there are people out there who are actually stocking up on guns and what-not in preparation of a real 'pock-y-clipse' featuring zombies or worse, 'furriners', I believe these rules will help them as well.

While your neighbors, co-workers, family and friends are freaking out as to 'what's going on?', you will no doubt have these rules hardwired into memory or on a cheat sheet you always keep with you. So pay close attention and take notes (no there won't be a quiz, but you damn sure don't want to fail the practical exam!)

Rule #1- Everything has changed

In every ZA flick you always hear people flipping out asking questions like, 'what's going on?', 'why is this happening?, yadda, yadda. The answers are simple: 'Mofo's are running around eatin' people en masse' and 'Because it is, now shut up and run for your life!'

From the moment you see the reporter and camera crew get overrun and eaten on TV or look out the window and see your neighbors literally ripping your former loudmouth neighbor to pieces, the world as you knew it is over. Accept it.

Rule #2 - All bets are off

In every ZA flick there's always someone whining about 'morality', 'feeling attachment for a zombified loved one' or 'being hostile because of racial, ethinc...' you get the picture. Let me break it down for you. First refer to Rule #1 when you want to rely on your usual thinking or modus operandi. Then recognize all that crap doesn't mean jack anymore. From now on, there are only two kinds of people left in the world; those who are not being eaten and those who are. In the ZA scenario, Humanity is back in 'Savannah Mode'. That means you and every red-blooded person still alive are 'rabbits' and there are hordes of hungry undead wolves on your tails. So that means the honkeys, chinks, greasers, spics, towel heads, redskins, dot heads and nigga's you were arguing with 10 minutes ago are now your allies! Every extra set of eyes and hands are going to come in damn handy. So you better get over your differences quick 'cause they no longer apply.

Rule #3 - Unless you're already there, Don't go home

What's the first thing you hear mofo's say when the feces hit the oscillating air flow cooling unit? 'I've got to get home! I've got to find my family!' Yeah, about that. Here's the thing. Odds are, stuff is jumping off in all directions. So the chances things are already popping off on the homefront are unfortunately pretty good. You're probably saying, 'but I've got to save my family!' Yeah, but you've got three major problems with that. Location, Distance and Time.

Location - If you're in a city, you've got your own problems. Cities are the overflowing 'cornucopia' of zombies. Depending on how fast the 'Sickness' is spreading, you may have only hours or moments to un-ass your current location before you get overrun and turned into 'zombie chow'.

Distance - If there's a considerable distance to cover like 10 miles or more, forget it. Yeah, yeah, I know, 'I've got to save my family!' Well consider this, they've got the exact same issues you do at the same time. Depending on their location, they could already be ass deep in zombies whilst you're trying to literally 'fight' your way through traffic! More than likely you never got around to turning your house, duplex or apartment into the armed citadel of your dreams fully stocked with food, water and armaments. With that in mind, your home is no doubt just as 'soft' when it comes to keeping out zombie hordes as everybody else's is! So more than likely your familia are probably fighting off the hungry dead as you read this....

Time - The real 'killer' in this scenario is time. The more time passes, the worse the situation is going to get. In the initial hours of the outbreak, the number of infected will grow exponentially. Before or if Rigor Mortis sets in, the zombies are going to be fast. Damn fast. Unless you've kept up your high school track skills or made your living as a purse snatcher, you'll have to fight and run. Clock keeps ticking, you're going to get tired 'cause you can run on adrenaline only so long. The infected unfortunately don't have that problem. So the more time you'll have to spend trying to get home, the greater the odds your family will have run for their lives by the time you get there.

So even now if you're still saying, 'but I've got to save my family!' refer to rules #1 and #2.

Rule #4 - Be prepared to go 'Conan' on a mofo

Let's face facts. In the ZA scenario, you've got dead mofo's trying their damndest to turn you into 'Fool under glass'. You also have around you as Agent 'K' from MIB eloquently phrased it; "A bunch of dumb, dangerous and panicky animals' represented by your fellow homosapiens. 'Wise men' by the way who in blind panic are knocking each other over and trampling the fallen, thus making the zombie's dining selection process that much easier.

In order to clear a safe path for yourself and your fellow survivors, you're going to have to get your hands dirty. Big time. It is highly probable, the most efficient way to dispatch the infected will be a shot or crushing blow to the head. Let's just say it is all but certain you won't have a rifle, pistol or assault weapon with plenty of ammo on hand when things start jumping off.  You're going to have to get a suitable blunt or edged weapon... right now. When you do, you're going to have to get as Clint Eastwood said in "Unforgiven", "... Plum mad dog mean." That means if it's dead, bash it in the head. If it's live, bash it 'till it dies.

What? You're saying I should kill potential survivors? If they are panicked and are about to put you in a situation where you can't escape, yup. With extreme prejudice. In the film '28 Days Later' when Selena thought for an instant her longtime comrade had been bitten, she instantly hacked him to death. Despite his screams, she mercilessly did him in. She survived. Let that be a lesson! If you have a problem with that your choices are; allow the person to turn and infect you and your fellow survivors or stop whining and accept  rules #'s 1 and 2 then dispatch your bud quick!

Rule #5 - Adapt

I cannot stress enough Rule #1. Because of rule #1, you must adapt to the new situation. Your days of corporate austerity, girly-girl chic or metrosexual style are over. Clothes that restrict movement or reveal skin are absolutely out! Perfume, cologne, scented deodorant, baby powder, scented soaps are also out. It's a pretty good guess the infected are working with the basic senses alone. It's probable dead noses could transmit sensory info for a while in the initial hours, days and weeks, as the sense of smell will be the primary source of detecting the living. You don't want to help them sniff you out 'cause you couldn't let go your fav' scent.

Adapting means you're going to have to do what the situation requires. If the only way to hide from 'Walkers' is to jump into a sewer, get to jumping. If you have to cover yourself in walker guts and gore to pass among them unnoticed, don't forget to get that hard to reach spot on your back!

If you are claustrophobic but the safest place to hide is an air conditioning vent, get your ass in there and keep your trap shut.

You will also have to change your behavior. If you're a talker when you're nervous, shut up. If you fidget, be still. You a farter when you get scared? Put a cork in it. Teeth chatter? Stick something between your teeth thick enough to keep your jaws from moving and bite down.

Rule #6 - Heroes get eaten

Before you say, 'but I've got to save people!' Yeah, when you can and if you can. But not at the expense of your own life. The price of selfless heroism is being dinner. Save your bravery for when you have to be cunning or stealthy or when it's time to bust open a hole so you and your fellow survivors can make a run for it. What your fellow survivors need to see from you is your determination to get out alive. If you've got a problem with that see rules #1 and 2.

Rule #7 - Let those who are about to die... die

This is the harshest rule of all and where rules #1 and #2 apply the most. It is safe to ascertain a ZA is an 'unnatural situation'. Now that you and your fellow survivors up to now are in a prey-predator dynamic, you have to recognize that everyone in the group ain't gonna' make it. Babies, young children, the extreme elderly, the non-mobile, semi-mobile injured/disabled and the mentally disabled will all be the first to go. I know, I know, 'but we have to help everybody!' Again, I refer you to rules #1 and #2.

Yes, it's a horrible thought to even think about babies, small children and grandma/granpa being devoured by zombies, but remember the rabbit analogy. There's a reason you never see baby or elderly rabbits in the wild. If you can see them something's about to eat them. Also, you have those individuals who get what is called 'Deathstruck'. Those who are deathstruck

are stricken with a panic that literally causes them to move or freeze in the path of potentially fatal activity. These people are dangerous! All too often those who are possessed of the heroic impulse leap to save these persons and usually both end up dead. In the situation of a ZA, that 'bad end' is certain. If someone is deathstruck and throws themselves into death's jaws, don't let their sacrifice go in vain!

These are just the first few hard and fast rules, for Surviving a Zombie Apocalypse. In Part II, you'll learn what's necessary for staying alive once you escape the initial event! Until then, RUN, RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!

© 2012 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved. Images used are owned by their prospective copyright holders.

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WHO I AM I NOW REVEAL TO ALL AND ANY

I have read alot of books over the years, too many to count but now finally i can write my own books and i have plenty that i write from my mind not anyone elses.  I have currently 6 books that i am writing and cant wait to get these out of my head and down on paper. I have to title the last book still but i am working on it and this year alone i will have at least 2-3 books completed. I have been scouring the web looking for a site like this and did cartwheels when i found it. Black media is seriously deprived of any thing mainstream.  Oh sure we can put out a comedy show and be the but of every joke and get air time but what about some real quality movies? And why not Sci fy?  I think its time to change that and change lives and times as we know it. I dont know how many times i have went to the fantasy book section looking for a black face on the cover or in the author spot. Growing up i loved comics but always wondered where were the black heroes and heroines? When Milestone came online i went nuts and tried to grab everyone i could get my hands on. I knew they would kill it right away when it came out.  They still dont understand the black market and i dont think they want to up in hollywood. So yes we need to support each other but we need to do it with the knowledge as well which is the key to our weakness and our strength. Fantasy writing is a skill and one that we do well just from what i have seen on this site their are some very talented people on this site. I hope that my writings are met well here and are of substance enough to keep your interest and merit your comments and advice but we shall see.

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BAYNE LEGACY APOCALYPSE PART #1

Born from the thirst of a King Vampire and the bite of a werewolf, Bayne was born dead but revived as a hybrid through the combination of these two supernatural creatures.

 

            BAYNE

Born -1620      Died - 1620

         Re-Born - 1620




BAYNE LEGACY 2014


The world as we know it, has immulated Movies and movies have told the story of a world absent of life. With the consistant preaching of the end is here and the end is near, it has finally come to past. Mother nature has had the last say about life as we know it. With a simple push of the reset button, the core nucleus of Mother earth proved to be unstable due to the constant raping of her nutrional value.

 

And God said "the world will never ever perish by water but shall feel the heat of Fire". The thing about God is, he doesn't have to be specific just know when the fire comes it can come in any form. And in a form it did. Molten lava.   Massive Earthquakes giving way to the inner rage of the planet's distain for humanities lack of respect for her.

 

Once her rage subsided, Mankind's reign over her ended. In their place, the creatures of legends walked the surface and humanity with all it's posturing and boasting and proving they are at the top of the food chain, all turned out to be empty words.  Frome hence forth The Pale ones and Warwolves walk the surface and mankind   has become cattle.

                                     

BAYNE NARRATION

                                                  We all thought it would end in a bang.

                                                  Or biological warfare. From the dawn of

                                                  time, man’s conviction since his creation,

                                                  has been to destroy the world.        

FADE IN:

 

EXT. SAN FRANSISCO BRIDGE - DAY.

The skies are scorched. The San Francisco bridge, is partially demolished. Abandoned.  Dilapidated cars some occupied with   skeletons of the deceased, are strewn about. Random cables holding the bridge up, have snapped from their housing.

                                                                                                                                                     

SLOW MOTION:

A man in white, holding two custom made battle axes which are engraved silver axe heads with a hooked shaped wooden handle and wardog’s K9’s extending from them, walks across the San Francisco bridge away from the city with deadly intent.

                                                                   

                                                                   BAYNE NARRATION

                                                     Always preaching the end is near. The end

                                                     is here. Warring for position and power.

The man in white continues on. Suddenly out of nowhere, a car flies in his direction. He tilts his head slightly evading the oncoming vehicle.                              

                                   

                                                                   BAYNE NARRATION (CONT’D)

                                                     Fighting for political gain. No one ever      

                                                     knowing their place in the food chain.

He grips his battle axes tighter.

 

                                                                   BAYNE NARRATION (CONT’D)

                                                     No one ever took into consideration who

                                                     held the real power. God, if there really is a

                                                     God said the world would end by fire. So when

                                                     the end finally came, it wasn't by man’s doing.

 

The man in white stops.

 

                                                                  BAYNE NARRATION (CONT’D)

                                                    Mother nature made the call and decided to push

                                                    the reset button.

He tilts his spectacles down to get a better look at hordes of Warwolves snarling and growling in front of him. The man in white, smirks.

                                                                   

                                                                   BAYNE NARRATION (CONT’D)

                                                   Warwolves. Looks like it’s going to be a long day

                                                   and I have nothing but time on my hands.

With a quick twirl of his battle axes, The man in white, leaps high into the air poised for combat.

                               

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