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Novel Update

I feel like this story is really going to set the tone for me. Right now I'm working on a back story for my character..well actually more like a creation story. It's crazy I know no sane person should write as much as I do, but i felt like my rabbit hole wasn't deep enough.
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DEADLY ARTIFACT REVIEWS AND E-MAILS

Mr. Wilson has created an intense SCI-FI suspense novel of such dramatic proportions that you will be very sad when you finish. Why? This is because his characters are so engaging that you will miss them when you are not reading about their exploits. Victor, Vernon, Ronald, Eunice, Sibekk, Suris, and the aliens on the planet Dabenar will become fast friends in your imagination. I now miss Victor’s temper and the teenager’s strong vernacular as they deal with each other’s personalities as they unravel the details of a mystery that changes how they deal with life.This novel is set in the 1970’s in Northern California among a group of African-American teenagers who embark on an unbelievable adventure of galactic intensity. Mr. Wilson shows us his erudition in electronics, American history, and astrophysics, black culture, and all things Motown. His novel is truly a delight to read and very enjoyable. The science portion of the novel is believable and intense.I may be one of the reviewers who will not be too objective, because I personally know Mr. Wilson. The basis of this novel is an intense family love that spans all time and culture, human or alien. A daughter’s love for the father she never knew and how a group of young African-American young men interact and attempt to love in the growing years of teenage angst makes this novel one of the best I have read. I am a fan of Star Trek and all things SCI-FI and I must admit I look forward to Mr. Wilson’s next sequel, or should I say, prequel as maybe Ra’as and Sulbrin embark of explaining just whose skeleton lays in the cave on Shumen Mountain.Thanks,Tim StinnetteYorktown VirginiaYou can read more on this Hampton Virginia project at the following web site---http://www.eugeneallenwilson.com

Hi Eugene,I'm pleased to see that there are others of African descent in North America who are committed to promoting strong values and showing our communities in a postive and progressive light. I am an African-Canadian woman born and raised in Montreal where we have even fewer opportunities to create cultural products that reflect the realities of our communities, especially when those products stray from mainstream ideas of what sells. I congratulate you on the publishing of your book and wish you all the best in your future endeavours, both personal and professional.Kindest regards,Sharon S.ssprin1@hotmail.com

Hi Eugene,Thanks so much for the kind words:) I checked out your website, looks very interesting. Good luck with your book!Tanyaauthor of ALEXANDERwww.TanyaYvonne.com

Hello Eugene,The book is very, very exciting! I am almost to the end of it and I fine myself right in the middle of the conflicts. You have done a wonderful job and I hope the book soars.Yvonne and Thomas Jowersthomas152@cox.net
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RE: THE WHITE ARMYOut of New Orleans before the catastrophe that was made by a hurricane and, as Dante wrote, “of false gods who lied,” comes The Parable of the Beatitudes, part one in the New Orleans Trilogy. The Parable of the Beatitudes portrays New Orleans as Dante’s purgatory, a place where the sins of men are exposed for all to see, where redemption is close at hand but most often lost, where the mind, body, and soul are tested.This world is revealed by the lives of two social workers, Hannah Dubois (white and nicknamed Scrimp) and Earlene Washington (African-American and nicknamed Pinch), who start their own business, Social Investigations, in order to solve the murders of ten foster children in New Orleans, Louisiana. The NOPD, the Catholic Church, and politicians have sidestepped clues that point to those who hold great power. As Hannah and Earlene find more and more evidence, they also know that they are dealing with a force that crosses into the realm of the spiritual. Earlene is murdered with a sword from the famous Cabildo but returns to join her ghostly friends in the Heavenly City. A ghost can certainly help investigations and The Parables of the Beatitudes gives us the world the ghost private detective. The murderers are part of a secret organization called the White Army (le Armee Blanc), centered in New Orleans, but rooted in Medieval Europe and the Children’s Crusades. Each clue leads to a beatitude and each chapter defines the novel: The Pure of Heart, The Persecuted, The Merciful, The Sorrowful, The Peacemakers, The Meek, The Poor in Spirit, and Those Who Hunger and Thirst for Justice. The Parable of the Beatitudes is thus a study of good and evil, and that act, the murder of innocent children, which encompasses all of the seven deadly sins. Who then can better perform acts of goodness and compassion than those who have suffered? Pinch and Scrimp- a ghost and a voodoo princess?The work was critiqued by Mary Gordon and Kathryn Davis at the Skidmore Summer Writers Institute and was hailed as a work of fine writing, crossing from genre fiction to literature. Also, The Parable of the Beatitudes was a finalist in the 2001 William Faulkner Novel-in-Progress Competition (then titled The Foster Child Murders).Book II in The New Orleans Trilogy, The Book Burners (shortly after the deluge) is almost completed, and book III, Almost Paradise (years after the deluge), is in outline form.My short stories have been published in literary journals such as Big Muddy: AJournal of The Mississippi River Valley (East Missouri University), The Bishop’s HouseReview (Duke), The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, Nantahala, Milestone,Identity Theory, Southern Hum, Stone Table Review and Our Stories. I have also published articles in such journals as Mystery Readers International. I am recipient of the Paris Writers’ Institute Scholarship for study in Paris, France and a Fellowship for study with the Summer Literary Seminars in St. Petersburg, Russia. I studied writing at Skidmore (where I worked with Mary Gordon and Marilynne Robinson), Duke, and the Bread Loaf Writers ConferenceI was born and raised in South Louisiana and lived the greater part of my life in New Orleans.Email me at lynlejeune@cox.net for a FREE ATTACHMENT OF WHITE ARMY AND FEEL FREE TO FORWARD IT TO YOUR FRIENDS AND COLLEAGUES.Lyn
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THE DREAMNASIUM

So, last year, I think, I started this web comic called THE DREAMNASIUM. It was pretty successful even though I was doing it just for fun.I left off at the beginning of the third issue due to work in the real world (for real money) but I've got some time now and I thought I'd get back in.It's an anthology book. I switch up stories every issue or two and switch up styles on every story.Maybe you'll dig it.

Feel free to take a look HERE or HERE.PG and R rated so, be warned.
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My fairy book for Disney

Since I got the contract today I think I can safely share the good news:

I’ll be doing a chapter book for the line of Disney Fairies chapter books.


A friend defined a chapter book perfectly. She said: “A chapter book is intended for intermediate readers (7-10). Although these books do have many illustrations, a chapter book tells the story primarily through text, rather than pictures.”....


Even before I got involved with these chapter books, I was reading them. I picked one up at the library out of curiosity. I read it in a day and thought it was pretty good! Next thing you know I was reading another and another and another. I think I’ve read, like, eight of them. :-).


Pixie Hollow, where the stories are set, has a very floral feel that is totally akin to the world I created in Zahrah the Windseeker. And there was magic in the world of these spunky little fairies. It’s an easy fit for me.


I’ll be doing a chapter book centered on the character of Iridessa.




I’ve already written a draft of it. The tentative title is Iridessa and the Fire-Bellied Dragon Frogs.

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http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=105685925At NPR, we love to hear, and tell, your real-life stories every day. Now, we want to hear your fiction as well.This summer, we're beginning a contest called "Three-Minute Fiction." The premise is simple: Listeners send in original short stories that can be read in three minutes or less — that's usually about 500-600 words long.James Wood, literary critic for The New Yorker and author of the book How Fiction Works, will serve as NPR's "Three-Minute Fiction" guide. Wood will appear on-air throughout the summer to read his favorite submissions, and we'll also post them here on NPR.org.
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Just got finished visiting The Museum of UnCut Funk, a site dedicated to the celebration and preservation of the Funk. We here at the Black Superhero Blog have always had a soft spot for the Funk and this site doesn't dissapoint. With its series of Funky blogs, exhibits, and online community they seem to have it all covered. There is even have a section about Black Comic Books. It's a pretty ambitious project all in all. Check them out.www.museumofuncutfunk.comblacksuperheroes.blogspot.com/
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TOR UK contest for an unpublished novel

“War of the Words” is the SciFiNow writing competition in association with Tor UK, an imprint of Macmillan Publishers Limited (“the Competition”)1. The winner will receive a publishing contract with Macmillan Publishers Limited for publica tion in 2010 dependent on publishing schedules. For the purposes of this competition we will pay the winning author a 20% royalty on net receipts but there will be no advance (i.e. an advance payment against future sales). Our contract is non-negotiable and we acquire world rights, with rights revenue split 50/50. We also reserve the option to publish the author’s second novel. The final book is intended to be published in the United Kingdom. Publication will be subject to the winner’s acceptance in writing of those terms and conditions and compliance with them.2. All entrants must have a full length novel (being between 80,000 and 150,000 words long) completed and available upon request by the close of competition on 20 August 2009.3. Entrants who have had a full-length novel previously published by a trade publisher anywhere in the world will not be eligible, (so you will not be excluded by virtue of having any previously self-published work). Additionally this competition is not open to employees or their immediate families of the Promoters and any companies within the Imagine Publishing Ltd. group of companies or the Macmillan Publishers Limited group of comp anies.4. To be eligible, initial entries must comprise of a full synopsis and the first three chapters of a novel set in the fantasy or science fiction genre. There must be a novel completed and available for review by 20 August 2009 should the judging panel request to see the full novel. Entrants will not be put forward to the shortlist without a full novel. The synopsis and first three chapters should be double spaced and emailed to: warofthewords@imagine-publishing.co.uk to be received by SciFi Now Magazine at Imagine Publishing Limited on or before the closing date of 20 August 2009 17:30 GMT.5. Entries from the first round will not be returned.6. The Promoters assume no responsibility for lost, stolen, delayed, damaged, illegible or misdirected entries or for any failure of the website during the competition period.7. Entr ants confirm the following in relation both to their entry and, where applicable, all further work supplied by them where they are selected for the shortlist as described below. Namely that all such work is their own original work and has not previously been published anywhere in the world; that it does not infringe any laws whether of the UK or elsewhere or the rights of any third party; that no other person was involved in the creation of such work; that they have the right to give the Promoters and their respective licensees permission to use it for the purposes set out below.8. No purchase necessary.9. Only one entry per person. No joint entries are permitted.10. A shortlist of six candidates will be drawn up by the judging panel. The judging panel will consist of readers from SciFiNow magazine, the Tor imprint at Pan Macmillan Publishers and at least one person independent of the promoters. The identity of the judges will be made available on request. The shortlisted entrants will be notified no later than 07 September 2009. SciFiNow or Tor will notify the shortlisted candidates by telephone/email, and they will need to respond no later than 5 days from the notification otherwise another entrant will be selected from the remaining eligible entries.11. Each shortlisted entrant will be sent a copy of the Macmillan Publishers Limited contract which they must agree to sign in the form in which it is put forward by Macmillan Publishers Limited in the event that they win the competition. Entering into the final stage of the competition is conditional upon such agreement.12. Copyright in your entry and all subsequent work provided by you where you are selected for the shortlist will remain with you. The winner will be governed under the terms of the Pan Macmillan contract which they must sign as described above. By entering the competition, entrants irrevocably grant the Promoters the right to reproduce their entry or an edited form of their entry in any form or format for the purposes of advertising, marketing or point of sale as the Promoters shall determine. They also irrevocably agree to participate in such promotional activities and feature in such pr omotional and PR activities as the Promoters may reasonably require and consent to the use of their names, city of residence, photograph for publicity purposes in all media.13. The winner will be the entry which, in the decision of the judges, shows a thorough grasp of narrative, pacing and characterization and additionally who, in the opinion of the judges, will create the most appealing and commercial book for the science fiction and fantasy readership and is the most suitable author to be published under the Tor imprint at Pan Macmillan Publishers. The judges’ decision in all matters will be final, and no correspondence will be entered into.14. The winner will be announced no later than 25 November 2009. The winner will be notified by telephone/email, and will need to respond not later than 5 days from the notification as to whether they are able to accept the prize. If a selected entrant does not meet all of the terms and conditions, or does not reply by the deadline another entrant may be selected by the judges from the remaining eligible entries.15. Entrants must be 18 or over on 01 May 2009 and there is no geographical restriction.16. There is only one prize which is the opportunity to have your novel published under the Tor imprint by Macmillan Publishers Limited in 2010 dependent on publishing schedules. The prize is subject to the winning author committing to strict deadlines for publication purposes.17. The prize is non-transferable and there is no cash alternative. The Promoters reserve the right to amend the specification of the prize, and to amend the terms of, or to withdraw this competition without notice, although every effort will be made to avoid undue disappointment to entrants and to provide a prize of similar quality and value. Details of any such changes will be posted on http://www.scifinow.co.uk/18. The name/country of the winner will be published on http://www.scifinow.co.uk/ and published in SciFiNow magazine on 25 November 2009.19. The email address and phone number you provide on entering this competition will only be used by us to contact you if necessary, and will not be shared with other companies.20. The Promoters have organised this prize in good faith and do not accept liability relating to the prize.21. These competition Terms and Conditions shall be governed by and constructed in accordance with the laws of England and Wales and the courts of England shall have exclusive jurisdiction in relation to any disputes arising therefrom.22. Promoters: SciFi Now Magazine, part of Imagine Publishing Limited, Richmond House, 33 Richmond Hill, Bournemouth, Dorset, BH2 6EZ and Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited of Brunel Road, Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire (”Pan Macmillan”) (together “the Promoters”). Please email warofthewords@imagine-publishing.co.uk if you have any queries that are not covered by any of the terms and conditions contained here.http://www.scifinow.co.uk/competitions/war-of-the-words-rules-and-regulations/
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AFTER THE LAST DAY

“Minister Shirra! Minister Shirra! Oh my! You won’t believe it!Kantootha, with elegant violet tentacles waving, burst into the luminous quarters of the Minister, a place of modern wonder, factually existing in two realities at once, but occupying one space. Interspersed throughout the collection of rooms were pieces of ancient, archaic Terran furniture. Calm down, Kantootha,” said the Trantken Minister. "I’m sure whatever it is cannot be that urgent.” Shirra, a luminous being himself standing nearly twelve feet tall with blooms of tentacles where humans would have arms, rose from his sixty million year old oak wooden desk, a gift from his friend, the Human Minister. He removed one of his left tentacles from the liquid sphere hovering two inches above the desk’s surface and turned to face his aide.“Now Kantootha, what is it?”“Many pardons Minister Shirra, I did not know you were working so late.”Shirra glanced back at the sphere, an informational tesseract used by the members of their order for research. It was essentially a link to a vast library.“No pardons are necessary. I was looking for precedent in the upcoming negotiations with the newly discovered race of sentient beings. Randolph and I are to present our case for contact this very day.”Kantootha passed a tentacle over his furrowed brow.“That is the problem Minister.”With his perfectly round eyes still exhibiting the calm of an elder, Shirra looked at his aide questioningly.“Your meaning Kantootha?” He asked. “Has something happened to my good friend Randolph?”“No Shirra, not just Minister Randolph, but every Human.”“Clarify.”“Minister, as far as we can tell every mainline Human on every world throughout the Conjoining has vanished.”A look of incredulity spread across the face of the Trantken Minister.“What … did you say?”“Yes Minister, every last one. They, they’re all gone.”Ripples, small undulations of wonder and fear worked through what would have passed for the Trantken’s stomach eons ago, waves of urgency, waves of fear, and concern.“Are you certain?”“Absolutely, Minister. It’s being broadcast Conjoining wide.”An unprecedented event in the history of the Inter-Galactic Civilization of the Conjoining had occurred. One of the elder races had completely vanished from existence. Younger races had passed before, usually through self-destruction. This was expected, something that occurred from time to time prior to, or just after a younger race was contacted by a stellar race. But never in the annals of trans-galactic history, even before the creation of the Conjoining had a stellar race, especially an elder race, simply winked out of existence.“Call us a portal Kantootha.”“It is done Minister Shirra. One awaits us just outside your quarters.”The magisterial minister moved swiftly through his quarters, gathering luminous floating data structures, absorbing them into his being as his readied himself for travel.“Current status of the crisis?”“The Galacticum is preparing to convene. You were very deep in your research. I’ve been trying to reach you for some time.”“Yes, I was indeed deeply absorbed in the realms of the tesseract, searching the various possibilities of our collective future with these sentients based on precedent.”“I thought as much, that’s why I rushed over.”The Minister touched a glowing pentagonal hovering just above his head. It seemed to bristle with dancing numbers and symbols. “Interesting that this … happening should occur as I’m so deeply involved in research to plot our futures.”“We still cannot predict with certainty,” offered his aide.“No Kantootha, we cannot. We are not in control of everything just yet.”“Indeed Minister.”“Have all our brethren departed?” Asked Shirra.“They are either already there or en-route. We will not make a late appearance if we leave now.”“Then let us be off.”The two Trantken stepped though the glowing entryway that served as the door to Shirra’s quarters. Outside was a vast hallway, illuminated from either side by bright dancing colors. It was almost fifty yards wide and open to the sky. The sky itself was a dance of colors, full of glowing clouds, dotted with massive curved lattice structures that looked as thought they were made of gossamer. Behind the clouds was the great expanse of stars that Humans had long ago named the Milky Way.The two Trantken looked into the southern sky and saw a distinct set of pointed lights heading directly toward them. The lights were like stars, elongated and stretching as they fell from the sky. Their appearance, a function of space and time, made them seem as though they stretched across the universe, approaching the Trantken on one end, connecting to a cluster of light and stars on the other end, a faraway galactic core. The stars entwined as they fell, a manifestation of quantum/mental entanglement queued only to the Minister and his aide, visible only to their eyes. The light like stars made contact, and the two Trantken appeared to wink out of existence.From their vantage point, as they exited real-space, they were rising into the ether. They passed the constructs in the sky and moved outward into space. The world they had just left was spread out before them, vast, planets connected, curved in some areas, flattened in others, an intricate dance of planets and pieces of planets connected by various atmospheres and living machines. It was a marvel of local, sentient technology, completed during the time of the Trantken, the Humans, and a myriad number of other local races’ rise to prominence.It was old, but not as old as the mode of travel they were now employing. The portals were actually controlled wormholes, artificially created by a race of beings that strode the spaceways eons before the Conjoining. A race that had left civilization in a great exodus to explore the far reaches of the universe, beings whose name was so ancient it is no longer remembered. However, despite the fact their name was forgotten, their exodus was not.Many extreme elder races recalled the time when the unnamed left the Galaxies of the Local Group for places unknown. Departure took many a year. Some of their kind were rumored to still abound in quiet corners of the still vast and unexplored regions of the Galaxies. For even though the universe beckons, there are still places far beyond the view of great sentients. It is from just such a corner of the Milky Way Galaxy the new race with which Shirra was negotiating had come.As he spread his tentacles against the supple walls of the wormhole, hard mathematics given physical form, he wondered if the Humans had retreated to such a corner.He thought not.A race in exodus does not simply vanish overnight. It isn’t possible, especially not for a race as pervasive as Humans. There was a Human presence on a majority of the worlds in almost all of the civilized Galaxies.They came into galactic prominence about the same time as the Trantken. Though the Trantken had not struggled so much to achieve as had the Humans, they felt a mutual kinship with each other, as the youngest races on the Galactic scene at the time. Over the past millions of years that relationship had not changed, which is why Shirra would find it so hard to believe Randolph would not have told him of such an event. They were like brothers.Shirra looked down on the point from which they were ascending. The majesty of the Nexus lay before him. The sentients of the Milky Way Galaxy had come together at the Great Galactic core to create Nexus-Septum, in accordance with the Trans-Galactic precepts of the Conjoining.It was the seat of governance amongst the member races of the Milky Way Galaxy. However, all races did not belong. Some were not yet advanced enough, others simply chose not to be a part. Rather, they preferred to remain totally independent, dealing with the sentients of the Conjoining at their leisure.Those who did participate enjoyed membership in the most profound union of sentients among the many Galaxies of the Local Group. It made races like the Trantken, Haossus, Umiate, and Human quite proud, but not arrogant. All truly advanced species knew the universe was still a place of wonder and mystery.Apparently in response to this belief the universe had seen fit to present the Conjoining with the greatest mystery of all time.Shirra watched as his beautiful home receded and the wormhole carried them far across intergalactic space. Though gated travel was very routine, it would forever hold a wonder for him. He never tired of the awe-inspiring view. The tremendous distances covered in hardly any time at all translated through the physics of the gate to be perceived by the mind as a relatively short jaunt.Ahead of him his destination came into view. The supposed sister galaxy of his own, but one that had spawned galactic governance far before his. It was the true seat of power in the Local Group. The place his friend Randolph had referred to reverently as Great Andromeda. To Shirra it was simply the Great Galaxy. His race attached no mythos to their ancient name for the wondrously bright collection of stellar matter. At the core of the Great Galaxy was a governing capital much like the one he had just left. It was there to which he was now speeding.As he entered the Great Galaxy, passing the stars of Andromeda at the speed of thought, the capital came into view. It was much larger than the capital of the Milky Way simply because it came before. It was not the first and surely would not be the last. But for now it was the center, that which held the rest together.It was Nexus-Prime.A collection of star systems filled with the million million accomplishments of billions of sentients. Worlds crafted in between worlds, tying worlds together in a majestic work of art that could be seen light years away. The wormhole angled towards this regal place, towards the grand capital of the Conjoining, the center of the Great Galaxy in Andromeda, and all her sister galaxies.The bright, bursting light of approach blocked all vision. When next he opened his eyes he had arrived. Nexus-Prime greeted him with surreal majesty. He looked up and the conveying wormhole was vanishing off into space. Nexus-Prime looked much like his own home Nexus-Septum, just larger by many orders of magnitude. It too was constructed according to precept.Before him, off in the distance, a silver sphere the size of a city loomed. Directly in front of him was a glowing disc of light, a gateway of a different sort. Two guards, humanoid in appearance, stood watch.“Minister Shirra of the Trantken,” one of the guards said. “We welcome you.”He bowed deeply and gestured towards the gate. Shirra bowed back, as did Kantootha. Then, Kantootha grabbed the minister’s tentacle and urged him on.“Come Minister Shirra,” he whispered. “They’ve probably already started.”Shirra walked with his aide into the disc of light.“Patience Kantootha. Representatives of our race are no doubt already in attendance.”“Yes Minister, but you must be there as well.”Shirra smiled as they appeared on the other side of the light. Transport allocation and planning was down to the last sentient. After a voyage from one galaxy to the next, the system controlling the wormhole provided a dimensional thruway to the meeting hall inside the sphere. Shirra and Kantootha appeared in their waiting room, right behind their allotted spaces in the Great Hall of the silver sphere.“Come Kantootha,” the minister gestured. “We are finally here, you may take your seat.”Shirra heard the younger Trantken sigh, a very humorous act, something not customarily done among a race so old. But Shirra did have to concede that it was a time for sighing. The mystery before them was great and he had no idea how ardently it would tax them all before revealing its truth. The walked from the waiting room into their assigned slots for the hall. Kantootha took his seat behind the minister. The minister sat on what appeared to be a glowing patch of light and his mind went into rapture.“THE GALACTICUM IS CONVENED!” Came the booming voice of the Galacticum AI into the mind of every sentient there gathered.It was the call to join. At the center of the spherical hall was a smaller sphere, glowing with intense, alternating shades of silver and blue. It was the ancient Galacticum Artificial Intelligence, capable of displaying, combining, and guiding images of thought and reality.Its systems tied the minds of each Conjoining Representative together. It sorted and directed every issue that was to be debated. It served as the impartial arbiter between the great minds of the great races.That day, it began processing what was already being considered the most incredible incident in history. Shirra tied his mind into the joining, listening to the side conversations already in progress. They would quickly turn to him and his contingent, since they were widely considered the closest to humanity in dealings and endeavors.“INTER-GALACTIC YEAR 651 PARA 9, CONJOINING DAY 120.”Shirra listened to the AI announce the meaningless date. Even after millions of years of evolution, many sentients stuck to calendar structures. The Inter-Galactic year was built upon the physical center of expansion of the known universe. It was forever linear and even among the eldest races was considered to lack emotion and color.It was boring.“THE ISSUE OF NOTE IS THE DISSAPPEARANCE OF THE MEMBER RACE HUMAN. PLEASE BEGIN.”Immediately the thoughts of one of the elder races from Nexus-Prime emerged.“Humans have evolved to the level of Elders in the Inter-Galactic schema, Elders with considerable power and influence. They have been and still are involved in many of the most important matters of the Conjoining. Even now they and the Trantken are negotiating trade with the new race from the fourth quadrant of their own galaxy. Their sudden disappearance is a matter of the utmost importance. All the considerable might of the Conjoining should be put towards discovering what has happened to them. The Humans must be brought back.”Shirra knew this one; she could be long winded, but her thoughts rang true.“I have prepared to dispatch my races entire fleet in the search,” came the thoughts of another Andromedan, a sentient whose people could be considered middle aged, but possessed of the largest, and most powerful fleet in the entire Local Group"The Galacticum agreed to this as one. Orders were drafted as soon as the combined thought was completed and the AI dispatched them to the appropriate destinations. The resources of entire star systems were being mobilized. Great Fleets were on the move.It would not take long for them to report back with their first findings. In the meantime, the debate would continue in other directions. Shirra sat back and relaxed, letting his mind ebb and flow with the thoughts of the others. When the minds of the Galacticum were brought together in such a manner, there was no telling how long the debate might last. Shirra had been linked for months at a time, he and Randolph both. This Human mystery could go on for years. But of course, that would be totally intolerable.As time passed, many questions were posed to Shirra. It was quickly being affirmed that he was the immediate expert on Humans. It was an appellation, which was probably not far from the truth. Humans were pervasive on a great many worlds. They had contact with almost every race in the Conjoining. In the time of their evolution they had mated with several other races.The minds of the sphere quickly explored this avenue. It was just as quickly verified that no sentient born of a Human/Non-Human mating had been affected. They were still present in the Galaxies, many in Nexus-Prime. The Galacticum dispatched agents to question those that might have any pertinent information.Many lines of thought were traced and discussed. At times Shirra felt the debate become unwieldy, which is when the Galacticum AI would intervene. The debates were toned down and the lines of thought showing promise, and consensus ushered forward. This was when an errant thought straying through Shirra’s mind was grabbed by the AI and brought to light.“It has occurred to me a festival of Human passage was being celebrated in my own Milky Way Galaxy during this time.”Thoughts bombarded him asking about the festival, wanting to know the importance of it and how did it tie into what was now being called the Great Vanishing.“Please fellow sentients,” Shirra urged.The sphere of the Galacticum AI toned down the tumult.“I didn’t think it was of importance, but nothing should be left to chance,” Shirra said.He paused to pull the attention of all minds upon him completely.“My fellow representatives, among many of us our birth worlds have long been forgotten. Perhaps some members of our great races easily recall their planet of origin. The locations of these planets are of course a matter of record. But for sentients such as ourselves, who call the trillion stars our home, the birth planet is even less than a memory.”The minds of the Galacticum listened to Shirra in earnest. He was well respected and many of them felt if anyone could solve this mystery he could.“This was the case for many of the Humans as well. They didn’t know or care where their homeworld was. But this was not so for Minister Randolph, an integral member of this body who at this time is sorely missed, he knew of my fascination with his race, and often indulged my questions. Only now do I recall him telling me the star Sol was due to go nova. The birth world of the Human race, a world called Terra, or Earth by some, was to be or rather has been destroyed.”The Galacticum measured his thoughts and then posed its questions.“What is the importance of this event Minister Shirra,” asked a Trodosian of Andromeda. “Stars go nova. It’s a simple fact of existence.”“This is true, but I feel it is something that should not be overlooked. Though Randolph and the majority of Humans felt no emotional ties to their race’s ancient birth world, some of their species did. As I recall, there was to be a festival among the worlds of the Sol sector. A commemoration to the star system that gave life to so much.”Suddenly a physical presence appeared in the minds of the Galacticum. It was an avatar representation of an intelligence agent of the Fleet. He requested an audience and it was granted.“Ministers, so far we have not found any trace of the Humans. Whole planets are devoid of them. There are no signs of their passing through any levels of Hyperspace.”“Dimensional migration to an alternate reality?” Asked an Umiate.“Not so far Minister. However, we have dispatched vessels to further investigate this possibility.“I don’t think they would have gone that route in any case,” said another Trantken, who Shirra recognized as Doosa, his races’ transportation and navigation representative. A very capable and highly intelligent sentient.“Why is that?” Asked the Umiate.“We’re talking about the disappearance of an entire race. One hundred sentients, two hundred, even a thousand could escape our watchful navigational sentinels over dimensional bridge wormholes. But if anything above several thousand beings tried to jump through the multiverse at once it would create too large a disturbance. We would know of it instantly, violently.”The Galacticum quickly agreed. However, the Fleet would continue to search along the many pathways to alternate realities. The Great Vanishing was an impossibility in itself, who knew what other impossibilities could have accompanied it.“Ministers, I have one other item to report.”The Galacticum gave its consent as one to proceed.“There was a tremendous gathering in the Milky Way Galaxy near the Sol system, from where I have just come. The event is registered with administrators at Nexus-Septum as the Last Day of Sol. Sentients had gathered to observe the sun as it went Nova and many are still there.”The thoughts of the Galacticum all directed towards Shirra. The timing of the agent’s announcement was lost on no one.“What word from the sentients at the festival?” Shirra asked the agent.“We are currently interviewing Minister.”The Galacticum felt a decision being made in Shirra’s thoughts.“I sense the death of the star Sol may somehow be involved in the mystery we now face,” he said.An Umiate minister’s thoughts surged to the front. “Minister Shirra, I see no connection. What is to be gained by following this line of thought, by diverting resources to investigate with action.”“Minister, we can rule out nothing at this point. Please bear in mind billions of sentients have suddenly vanished without a trace, seemingly overnight. We must follow every thread of thought, no matter how dubious.”Consensus could be sensed following Shirra’s wise thoughts.“I and my aide will accompany the agent back to the Fleet. There we will use due diligence in the acquisition of facts and report back to the Galacticum forth with.”Once again there was consensus.Shirra pulled himself from the combined mind of the Galacticum and rose from the rapture chair. He took a moment to gather himself and turned away from the mighty sphere of thoughts. Kantootha was seated in his chair at the aide’s rear support position. He was looking at several floating holo-screens at once reading excerpts of the debate. As an aide it was the only way he could participate in the joining of minds.“Come Kantootha, we are off.”“We’re off Minister?” Kantootha said looking from the screens. “But the issue … we’re no were near close to a true decisive action.”“So your excerpts may tell you, but I feel we are closer than some believe.”“Minister? Dispatching a fleet, jumping down dimensional bridges, scanning the multiple layers of hyperspace? These are all prudent actions but….”“I know Kantootha, but what else would you recommend?”Kantootha said nothing. He was quite brilliant, which was required to serve in the position he was in. Shirra could see all he was advocating was more mental debate on the issue. It was the way things were supposed to be done according to precept.Galactic civilization placed a great deal of faith in the combined mind of the Galacticum and it was not unfounded. The combined mental power of the sentients and the artificial intelligence had solved staggering problems in the past. But what Kantootha was missing from his training was that fact that sometimes issues required a more hands on approach.“Come, let us be off.”“Yes Minister.”They walked through the disc of light and appeared once more on the beautiful plains of Nexus-Prime. The agent was waiting for them.“Where are we going?” Kantootha asked as the starry brilliance of a portal closed in.“To the death of the origin of humanity, and perhaps a clue to this mystery.”All three vanished in a burst of light.When next they appeared they were standing on a vitreous surface. It was a vessel, a sphere in nature, but completely transparent. The agent walked over to a floating luminescent console and waved his hand over it. Telepathic contact was established with the Fleet.“What is this?” Kantootha asked.“We have arrived in a stasis orb,” the agent answered.“I’m aware of that,” Kantootha said testily. “I want to know what’s going on out there.”Kantootha waved a tentacle at the spectacle before his eyes. Outside the orb, space was littered with spaceships and artificial environments. The artificial environments, which were essentially flat, floating, pieces of planet maintained by stasis fields, were thick with sentients.“Several vessels of the Fleet have come here to investigate,” the agent stated placidly. “We have agents and officers of the Fleet interviewing observers of the nova event.”Shirra and Kantootha both watched the nova before their eyes. It was gorgeous. Intense colors that would be blinding if not for refraction fields shunting light away from them, coursed across the panorama of space. It was the death of a star. An intergalactic opera played out in a spectacular fashion for the mass of sentients there gathered.The great planets of the birth system of the race known as Humanity had been engulfed. All that remained was Sol, deep in its death throes, radiating energy ever outward.“The system had been completely vacated?” Asked Shirra.“Yes Minister. Humanity was a prodigious race. They had terraformed every planet in the system in one form or another. But as we all know, the great bulk of them soon forgot their homeworld. Records indicate custody of the Sol system had been maintained by a small sect of Humanity in the Aetian sector.“Oh? And who were they? I didn’t know any sentients of great number still resided in that sector”“Yes sir, the area had been set fallow. But the Humans who lived there had proper settlement rights and had been living there prior to the sector being officially abandoned. We have ships in the Aetian sector now. The primary planet of settlement is huge, designated listing is Purgatorio. It’s in a standard star system with twenty-two planets. Initial reports indicate all that was in the Sol system now resides or resided there.”“All?”“Everything except the Humans, of course.”Shirra nodded quietly, focusing his attention on the event before him.“Another odd thing Minister.”“Yes.”“The Humans there were one-hundred percent corporeal.”Shirra slowly turned towards the agent. “What?”“Yes sir. The Humans of Purgatorio maintained their ancient human characteristics. Nexus records have no information on this, but it can be assumed at some time they underwent a de-evolution of some type.”Shirra was taken aback. Sentients did not purposely de-evolve. The mystery was growing more convoluted. Humanity was a highly evolved race of energy beings. They could convert some of their energy to mass and thus resemble their ancient forms. Randolph used to do so incessantly. Only human genetic material combined with other sentients through cross breeding still yielded fully corporeal beings. Or at least so it was thought.“Are you sure they were full Humans?”“According to what investigators have found on Purgatorio, yes. And it would bear out Minister, since they’ve all disappeared too. We know sentients that were not fully Human did not vanish.”“That is correct.”“A planet of de-evolved Humans?” Kantootha looked perplexed. “But why Minister?”“I do not know, but it would appear Purgatorio will be our next stop.”“But we’re supposed to report back to the Galacticum once we leave Sol sector.”“In good time Kantootha, in good time.”Shirra turned back to the exploding star. “Agent?”“Yes Minister?”“This stasis orb, are its protection fields equipped with time referential filters?”“Yes Minister, full capabilities.”“Good. I want to observe the actual destruction of Sol. Isolate two images. The star and the planet Terra, maximum dilation and clarification.”“Yes Minister.”The agent passed a hand over the console. Two huge images appeared before them, eclipsing the dying star.“What are you looking for Minister?” Kantootha asked.“Something out of the ordinary.”“Excuse me?”“Purgatorio Kantootha. The name is familiar, but at this moment I cannot recall why. I’m actively searching my internal data-wells. I know I’ve never heard of this planet before, but the name reminds me of something ancient. Something distinctly Human and mythical.”“Did you actually say mythical Minister?”Shirra ignored his aide. He knew myth had no place in an investigation. Neither did instinct, but Shirra felt his instincts tugging at his near immortal form. He knew he would see something. And after hearing the word Purgatorio, he felt myth would come into play as well. On this he would wager the energies of his eternal being.“The images are coming up now Minister,” the agent said.The party of three watched through a window of time as Sol exploded. The agent tuned out positional distortion, a time factor emanating from the vast crowd nearby at that point in time.Shirra concentrated. Sol’s cleansing flame reached outward, engulfing the worlds of Mercury and Venus. As the flames licked the third planet, another bright light appeared. It was twice the size of Earth and as soon as it came into view, it was gone again.“What was that agent?”“I’m not sure Minister. I have a recorded image. I’ll enhance and display.”The image appeared on the screen. All three were more than a little surprised.“It’s a Human!” Kantootha exclaimed.“I’ve never seen a Human that big before,” said the Agent.Shirra stepped towards the image. He examined it closely. It indeed appeared to be a Human, a Human in partial energy phase, still retaining its ancient physical likeness. It was brilliant and quite literally two or three times the size of the planet. The Human appeared to look happy, but in a sad sort of way, as if it was resigned to something. Its hands cradled the planet Earth briefly, then all was engulfed in flame. But Shirra had seen one other thing that surprised him and put him further, no matter how unlikely, on the path of myth.“Did you notice Kantootha? Did you see it?”“How could I not Minister, it was huge! I mean, growth of that magnitude is not an impossibility, but the amount of energy that Human would have to have amassed—.”“No Kantootha.”“What Minister?”“It had wings, Kantootha. The Human had wings.”Kantootha didn’t say a word. He glanced back at the agent, whose face was a mask of stone. Everybody knew Humans didn’t have wings, energy form or not.“It had wings Kantootha. Reminiscent of an ancient being Randolph and I discussed out of Human lore. It was called an Angel.”Kantootha looked worried. He stared at his Minister, lost in the silence following Shirra’s strange words.“That is Purgatorio below Minister,” the agent said.They had decided to take the stasis orb with them to the planet. The Minister wanted the stored images with him and the orb would afford them much more maneuverability in the star system, maneuverability he felt they would need.Minister Shirra had not yet made an official report. His actions at the Sol system would already be a matter of record at the Nexus-Septum data-cluster. Through channels it would work its way back to Nexus-Prime, where the Galacticum would look at his findings with much skepticism. His mention of an archaic mythical Earth entity in the midst of a scientific inquiry could very well cause them to call into question his reasoning capabilities. Before that happened he wanted to find more information. He was sure an answer could be found below.“There are no artificial environments, no structures to be seen from orbit. What kind of planet is this agent?” Kantootha asked. “All I see are our Fleet ships.”“Despite the world’s primitive look, they were quite advanced. Most of their technology is underground. The cities on the surface of the planet are primitive beyond belief. All the planets in this system are like this and it appears this one was its capital.”“Take us down agent.”“Yes Minister.”As the agent began to program the orb’s descent, he touched his brow.“Minister, I’ve received a telepathic signal form the surface. Agents of the Fleet have found a half-Human, half-Zatai sentient in the largest city. They are questioning him now.”“Take us to their location immediately.”“Yes Minister.”The agent lowered the orb deftly through the atmosphere of the vast planet. Purgatorio was one of those unique planets of incredibly immense size still possessing a planetary surface. Its atmosphere had obviously been altered, since planets of this type rarely possessed enough of it to support life. The sky was an iridescent blue, with flecks of red. Shirra noted the sky and thought it to be quite beautiful.“Is that the capital below?” Kantootha asked, looking down through the floor of the orb.“Yes,” the agent replied. “As you can see, it is quite archaic.”“And quite familiar,” Shirra said.Both Kantootha and the agent looked at the Minister, who ignoring them both stared at the approaching city below.The agent landed the orb in the center of the old looking metropolis. They were in the middle of a wide thoroughfare. It wasn’t paved in any manner, modern or otherwise. It was a simple dirt road, not uncommon among frontier settlements. The agent caused the orb’s fields to become permeable and all three stepped outside. The agent gave a telepathic command, the orb unraveled, and shrank into a storage tesseract at his side.“What do you make of this place Minister Shirra?” Asked Kantootha.“It is a magnificent achievement.”“Sir?” The aide said, looking at his minister in amazement.“You do not recognize it, of course.”“And you do?”“Yes, from my studies with Randolph. As you know, he indulged my fascination with Human history. I know these structures quite well. This is a replica of a city from an era millions of years removed. I cannot be absolutely sure, but I believe it predates human flight, a time when they were very corporeal.”Kantootha was mystified. “But why? Why build it? What is it doing here? Is it some kind of monument to the past?”“I do not know, but I believe we will soon have our answers.”Shirra turned towards the agent. The question was answered without having to be asked.“We’re holding him in the structure on your left Minister.”All three turned to face a multi-spired edifice reaching up towards the sky. It wasn’t huge by their era’s standard of construction, but it was still a formidable structure.“And what is that?” Kantootha asked.“It is what the Humans called a Cathedral. A place where ancient corporeal Humans gathered to worship what they believed to be the one true deity.”“Are you serious?”“Quite. Oh, I know the Humans we dealt with never did such things. Randolph certainly never displayed a belief in a god. But I believe the Humans of this world did just that.”The Minister proceeded to walk into the vast Cathedral. The Galacticum agent of the Fleet and Kantootha followed. Inside the building were several rows of seats. It was just like the images Shirra had seen in his studies.The agent took the lead.They walked through a door made of wood into a back room, which the agents had turned into a temporary holding area. There, agents and officers of the Fleet were standing around a humanoid being seated serenely in an ancient wooden chair.The agent turned towards the Minister and after mentally asking permission, pulled Shirra into a telepathic link. He could better serve him this way and prevent possible harm from the unknown sentient. Shirra took another wooden chair and sat directly in front of the humanoid.“Greetings, can you understand me?”The humanoid tilted his head. He had a look of humor on his face, as if to say of course I can understand you.Shirra had seen this kind of sentient before, fully corporeal, with golden skin and thick long cords of hair. He had deep purple orbs for eyes and tiny hearing orifices. The joining of Human and Zatai had happened long before the majority of Humans evolved to the next level. There were enough hybrids from the joining of both races to perpetuate themselves as a species. They could almost be considered an ancient race unto themselves they had been around so long, but they didn’t involve themselves in Galactic affairs. Or any other affairs save their own, or so it was thought.“Of course I can understand you sir. I speak Gal-lang as well as the next sentient,” the Human/Zatai said matter-of-factly.“Yes, of course. Well, do you know who we are.”“As I’ve already told these others gathered around me, of course I do. You’re the Minister for whom I’ve been waiting. These others are witnesses. You are from the vast governmental structure that lingers in blindness.”“Blindness? Why do you say that?He looked at Shirra and smiled. “Because you cannot see,” he said simply.Shirra telepathically queried the agent. He wanted to know if the sentient possessed telepathic capabilities as well. He was satisfied to find he did not.“Do you know my name?”“Yes. As I’ve told you, I’ve been waiting for you. You’re Minister Shirra, honored among the Trantken.If Shirra were not a highly trained diplomat, the side of his face would have glowed purple, a normal Trantken response to surprise. He remained steady and bowed to the Human/Zatai, acknowledging his identity.“I am called Malachi,” the Human/Zatai said, bowing deeply in his seat towards the Minister.Shirra wasn’t impressed with this game of identities. It was time for answers and he would have them.“Now that we know who we are, I believe it is time for you to tell us a few things. What is this place? Why are you waiting for me?”“You already know Minister, deep down inside. But I shall tell you anyway.”“Please do,” replied the Minister nonchalantly.“You are in what we call the star system Israel, unlisted in the data-clusters of all known Nexuses. This world is named Purgatorio. This city is Jerusalem and we are seated in the main Cathedral of the Lord’s City.”Shirra felt a stirring inside and he didn’t know why.“You are in the star system, which resides on the very edge of the firmament Minister. I know why you have come and yes … I have your answers.”There was a stillness in the room. Everyone was hanging on the sentient’s words, but remained silent. The agent received another telepathic signal from Shirra. He willed an image from the stasis orb’s databanks to appear in the center of the room.“Can you tell me what this image is?” The Minister asked.The sentient bowed reverently before answering. “Honor and respect the messenger of the Lord God. He is Gabriel, who comes at the end time to trumpet the first of the last days.”“Gabriel? Is that the name of the being in this image?”“Yes. He is an Archangel of the Lord and a Prince of Heaven.”From behind the Minister came Kantootha’s skeptical voice. “You can’t possibly be serious.”The Minister waved a tentacle at him, telling him to be quiet.“You doubt the image before you?” Malachi asked. “Well, you do not doubt what has happened. I know that for fact. It is why you have come here.”“You really do know don’t you,” Shirra said.“Of course, Minister. This is the most glorious event in the history of all creation.”“You’re referring to the Great Vanishing?”“That is what you have called it in your blindness,” the sentient said, smiling serenely. “They have been called home, all of them, everything living. Only those of us who were not part of the original line remain. But our time is coming soon. As we always knew it would, our faith is justified.”“Faith? What are you saying?”Electricity was almost a tangible force in the air. The words Malachi had spoken went against all excepted Galactic conventions. What he was saying was already quite clear, but Shirra wanted to hear them spoken.“The Lord God has called his children home Minister. Sol has consumed the birth world in fire, as was written. As you yourself can see, the Great Angel of the Lord was on hand to announce the end.It was in that moment Minister that all Human beings of the original line, corporeal or energy, believers or non-believers, were called home to Heaven.”The room was in stunned silence. Nobody knew what to say to this revelation from the Human/Zatai sentient. Malachi sat there, looking quite smug from the shock he engendered in the representatives from the mighty Conjoining. Everyone was at a loss for words, except Shirra.Malachi was right about him. On some level deep within the vortices of energy that comprised his being he had felt this. He was not a believer in deities, just as his friend Randolph had not been, but something inside made Malachi’s words ring true. It was awful and beautiful at the same time. Shirra had so many questions, but he knew it was time to depart. These questions were of mighty import and required the answers to be given elsewhere.“Malachi, would you mind…?”“Of course, Minister,” Malachi said standing. “It is written I will accompany you to give witness among the great powers of the Galaxies. Nexus-Prime is our destination, yes?”Shirra stood as well. “Yes, yes it is.”“As it is written.”Malachi smiled, his countenance was beatific. Though in raw power he resided far below the most junior sentient in the room, it was they who were in awe of him.“None of you believe, Minister,” Malach said. “But at Nexus-Prime … you will.”The Minister said nothing as they walked out of the Cathedral. He ordered the agent to sever the telepathic link. He didn’t want anyone else to know. He didn’t want to speak it and he didn’t want others to feel it. He would wait, wait and see Malachi’s revelation. Only then, did he feel he would be able to deal with what he felt was happening inside. For without any empirical evidence whatsoever, just a time-dated image, and the words of a hybrid sentient, he was finding himself starting to believe.“Well,” he muttered under his breath. “Stranger things have happened.”Minister Shirra and Kantootha assumed their places in the Great Hall. The sphere of the Galacticum AI brought the Trantken’s mind into joining. In the reality of the meeting of the minds, the avatar of the sentient that was Malachi stood. He appeared proud and utterly without fear. He had yet to speak a word, yet Shirra felt derision among the other Ministers. Surprisingly enough, none of it was aimed towards him.By the time they had arrived, the image from Sol was already being debated. The majority had discarded it as non-pertinent to the proceedings. Some said it was Shirra’s keen interest in the missing race’s history clouding his judgment, the very thing the Minister wanted to avoid. He silenced his thoughts and minimized his presence to the others. After the present debates were completed, the Galacticum would turn to Malachi.Sentients revisited the issue of dimensional migration. Proof was posited debunking the theory entirely. There was simply no way the entire Human race could vanish from the Galaxies of the Local Group in such a manner. They would have made too much noise. Such a population trying to leave this reality for an adjacent one at one time would have had disastrous results on both continuums.Several officers and agents of the Fleet reported findings from all corners of the cosmos. Searching the various levels of hyperspace would take more time than there was of it. The chaotic reality just underneath this one was still over eight-five percent uncharted. Its physics allowed for shortcuts in travel, but its dimensions seemed to comprise more space than real space.It was true Humanity could have vanished among one of hyperspace’s many levels, but even the powerful form of Humanity to which Shirra’s friend Randolph belonged required a conveyance to navigate that realm. It was far more hazardous than travel by portal and the Fleet reported every registered vessel belonging to Humanity was still present. Even if they weren’t, there was still more Humanity than ships available to carry them.Scientific inquiries of all types abounded until an errant thought from an Umiate Minister inquired about the Humanoid at the center of their joining. The Galacticum AI immediately seized hold of all thoughts and directed them towards Malachi.“THE GALACTICUM RECOGNIZES THE SENTIENT MALACHI, A HUMAN/ZATAI HYBRID.”The Galacticum listened as Malachi spoke.“My name is Malachi. I am of the race Human/Zatai,” he said, intentionally correcting the AI’s appellation. “I hail from the world Purgatorio, in the Israel System. On that world I followed the tenets of a religion, which existed when the Conjoining was but a young thing.”The sentients of the Galacticum gasped in thought. First, the hybrid said religion. Second, it said a religion was active among their galaxies and older than the Conjoining.“Yes, it is true. Though religion is not at the core of your society, it is in mine. And yes, it is ancient. It is as old as some of the very worlds many of you were birthed on. Know me and the Lord I serve. I am Malachi the Jew, Malachi the Christian, and Malachi the Muslim. In the star system of Israel, the Lord’s chosen people retained the ways of their forebears, their likeness as well as their love for the Lord our God.I see you Ministers of the Galacticum. I know your thoughts. You think me a fool, but the proof is in front of you, in the Universe you think you’ve mastered. But the Lord is all powerful and he has shown you his strength.”Minister Shirra smiled. He was a bright star in the dark sea of Galacticum thought. Malachi was joy personified as he addressed his audience.“In Israel, we remembered the old ways. On Purgatorio we worked, worshipped, and waited. The world of the in between, it was our crucible. There we burned away all our inadequacies in preparation. In the intervening years we have received signs. God has made himself known to the faithful.”The tumult was growing. The Galacticum was still listening intently, but most of them were beginning to dismiss Malachi’s testimony outright. A minority was wondering if something beyond the realm of present knowledge had indeed occurred. Findings had already indicated as much, but now they were entertaining ideas beyond the supernatural. It was supranatural.Shirra would rally behind the minority. For he felt the truth of it in the electrons of his breast. The disappearance of Humanity went beyond them. To believe Malachi’s story required faith. Shirra had known Humans of all types, not just Randolph’s. There was no more thought to it, no more debating, he believed.“Great Ministers of the Galacticum. It was written I would come here to herald the end. Most of you have forgotten the religions of old. You will not believe it, but the undercurrents have often been the same. You just don’t remember. Know that the Lord God has called home Humanity! They were the first in a long line of many. The last days of this Universe are upon us.Do not search for those who have already gone. They are in a place none of your science can reach. I know, still you do not believe my words. But I am strong in the Lord and he has sent another to validate my testimony.”Minister Shirra watched through the eye of his mind, fascinated. Events such as this had never occurred. Now Malachi stood rigid in the middle of the minds. He stretched out his arms and held his face to the artificial, mental sky. Suddenly the impervious, impenetrable sanctum of the combined minds of the Galacticum … was penetrated.“ALIEN PRESENCE DETECTED! ALIEN PRESENCE DETECTED! ALL SECURITY MEASURES HAVE BEEN NULLIFIED! NOTE, THE GALACTICUM IS COMPROMISED!”Before anyone could answer the AI’s pleas, the alien presence manifested. It was beyond anything anyone could describe. It pushed back the mental boundaries of the Galacticum, making room for its presence. It was so bright it blinded the mind. The image of Malachi was engulfed and in his place stood a giant beyond giants.The light dimmed and a being similar to the image Shirra saw at Sol stood before them. It was unimaginably tall, but apparently shrinking for convenience. Shirra reasoned it could easily stand astride three of four star systems. His mind pained with all the other Representatives of the Galacticum. The presence was testing even their vaunted mentalities, their powerful intellects. Its like had never before been recorded in any Nexus data-cluster, or so he thought.This was no mere alien. Just as Shirra had that thought, it spoke.“Behold! The angel of the Lord! I am Metatron!”His words were like a powerful song stampeding through their minds. They made the mightiest beings of the Galacticum tremble, beings who to lesser races in the cosmos were like gods themselves.“The Lord thy God has sent me, one who exists near the true center of all things, to bring you the truth. Look towards the wisdom within, feel the rightness in the words of Malachi, God’s prophet. For the end of creation is at hand and soon God will call you all home, believer and non-believer alike. And there, all will reside with Humanity, and others, until the Lord decides it is time to begin again.”And with that, he was gone.The minds of the Galacticum bounced back from the mental distances they had been stretched to accommodate the strange being. Only Malachi was left at the center, calm, collected, serene.An august Andromedan was the first to speak.“Galacticum AI?”“YES MINISTER.””Can you explain what just happened?”There was a pause, another something unprecedented. Never had the AI been at a loss for words.“NO MINISTER,” was its only reply.Shirra let his thoughts come to the fore.“It seems fellow members of the Galacticum we have our answer. God exists and it is with God that Humanity resides."Malachi looked upon the presence of Shirra’s mind and smiled. Shirra smiled in return. Then it started. Discussion among all the members exploded to a fevered pitch. This was no less than what Shirra expected.He had thought the investigation into where Humanity had gone would last far longer then it had. But no, he had his answer, as did they all. Now they would have to see who believed. Some would categorize it as an attack from an unknown alien entity. Some would discount it all together. These would continue searching for humanity along other lines.Shirra sensed the mystery of this new event would quite literally break the Galacticum into. He felt it implicitly and was sad. But it was the way of the Universe, one thing makes way after a time for another. Perhaps it was just their time.Shirra disengaged himself from the link. “Come Kantootha.”“Minister?’“It is time for us to leave.”“But Minister, the Galacticum has not yet adjourned. What of…”Shirra raised a tentacle, silencing his aide. He looked back at the sphere containing the purported center, the might of Galaxies.“No, I believe it has adjourned Kantootha, perhaps for the last time. Yes, I believe it has.”They walked through the disc and caught a portal on the other side.“Are we headed home Shirra?”“Yes Kantootha. We are headed back to Nexus-Septum.”“What will we do now?”“I have some research to perform Kantootha and you will help me. I seem to remember something from our races’ past, from a time to us immemorial, a legend Kantootha. A legend of an ancient, wise Trantken prophet, and the God she claimed was her father.”http://www.TheHandmill.comhttp://www.2rulesof3.comhttp://blog.2rulesof3.comhttp://shop.2rulesof3.com
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Stealer of Souls (Sneak Peek 2)

Joseph and Karla awoke in a forest of towering redwoods, oaks and weeping willows. They were human again and dressed. Ripple was no where in sight.They got to their feet, gazing around them. It was impossible to say how long they‘d slept, since the tops of the trees eclipsed all light from above.Suddenly to their right, came the sound of approaching hoofs. Weaving easily between the trees, a creature came bearing down upon them. From the waist up, she was a fetching Bronze woman of twenty or so odd years with sepia skin. Yet her body ended in a burgundy mare’s hindquarters. Reddish brown hair curled about her shoulders and her pert breasts were covered by a silver bustier.The last time they’d seen a creature like this had been during the Time of Legend. Then the female centaur had been a Guardian -- a fierce alley who’d fought beside them. But they sensed that this was no elder. She brought with her an aura of malevolence. Karla drew closer to Joseph.The creature came abreast of them: “Hello!” she said, her lashes fluttering prettily above her green eyes. “I haven’t seen you here before. Are you lost?”Innocence and a lack of feeling -- or more precisely the inability to feel -- emanated from her. A strange recipe indeed, and even more deadly than menace alone.Joseph neatly sidestepped the question: “We uh…we’ve lost our friend.”“Oh?” her voice was light and airy, like an adolescent’s. “What does he look like?”“He’s a man in his seventies, with dark hair -- like mine.”The centaur laughed: a brittle akin to breaking glass. Karla felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up.“An old man is this place? That’s funny! No one ages here…! And no one goes home either.”“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Karla blurted.The centaur smiled widely -- a grin that didn’t quite reach her sea green eyes.“I have to go…But I’ll see you later.” She clopped straight ahead into the forest and vanished.Karla held tightly to Joseph staring into the path where the creature had disappeared. “Joseph I’m scared -- really scared! Where are we?”Joseph looked grim. “I don’t know baby, but she scared the shit out of me too.”The dark woman looked up at him. “Do you think Ripple planned this -- to leave us like this?”He shook his head. “No. I think he was taken, and that thing knows where he is.”Copyright Valjeanne Jeffers 2009 all rights reservedI scare myself sometimes. And this passage, for some reason scared the shit out of me -:). But it's one of my favorites -:)
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ARRRGH!

Not getting ANY interest from Agents from my query letter. Any hints to help me improve it or should I just break down and rewrite the 1st chapter of my book?Query:I’ve been a fan of Sci-Fi and fantasy since before I could even read. For a young African American that meant watching and reading stories that didn’t include people who looked like me or who were from where I was from. Then as I got older it seemed as though the opposite began to happen with OVERLY Afro centric characters and settings. But these stories felt even more alien to me than those with the incredibly monochromatic heroes and places that I had already been accustomed to reading.So I when I got tired of just reading I started writing and eventually, after college (HU!), a bit of Air Force, and a long ugly stint in retail, I wrote THE SERPENT CULT, an Urban Fantasy story set in a fictional modern day East coast city. If you like action, suspense and mystery then you’re going to love visiting Mountairy Rock.As a matter of fact there’s so much action… maybe I should add “Action” to the description…Yea… it’s an Action Urban Fantasy that takes place in Mountairy Rock; an old city within a modern city where goliath trees dwarf the skyscrapers, hidden packs of werewolves roam the rooftops, modern day witches practice in secret… and a leviathan of a Demon secretly builds it’s own army of crazed worshipers. So there’s actually quite a bit of the occult mixed in too.I guess that makes it an Action Urban Occult Fantasy novel.Anyway, life had finally started to come together for Max Madigan. This was going to be the year that would see him finally get his Doctorate, start his career and hopefully kick his long dormant love life back into gear.But just as the New Year starts there’s a grisly massacre at Haley University Museum, where Max works as a researcher. Several employees were murdered when black leather clad cultists broke into the building apparently in a frantic search for some unknown item. As a Senior Researcher, Max was asked by the police to help them sort through the ransacked Museum in order to discover what the maniacs had been after. Max unknowingly stumbles across the StoneAt first glance the small engraved stone seemed to be nothing more than a bit of debris from the violence of the attack. So insignificant that he doesn’t notice that it pulses warmly with mystical power. Now, much to his distress, the path that his life had been traveling down has been irrevocably changed.Indeed everything seems different. Even his native city suddenly becomes very foreign to him. The Detective in charge of investigating the murders suspects Max of being involved. The cult responsible for the murders now knows that he is in possession of the Stone and begins launching attacks at him. Their members are crazed, maniacal and in some cases; serpent eyed and fang toothed.Fortunately the mysterious and powerful Stone seems to be tune with his peril and begins to fill him with its power granting him the incredible strength, speed, and heightened senses of a feral animal. It is a mystical power and it is just enough to keep Max half a step ahead of the cult and just out of arms reach of being cuffed and imprisoned by the law. But there are others who can sense and want the power that emanates from the Stone.Prya, a flame haired vixen from the isolated Downhills section of Mountairy Rock, has taken a keen interest in both the Stone and Max himself. That interest isn’t looked upon by lightly by her self proclaimed fiancé, Lotarre who, along with his brothers begin a relentless pursuit of Max all over Mountairy Rock.Beset on all sides by danger and a mounting foray of enemies, Max’s luck turns and he is given aid by a modern day witch, Rasheeda Landry. Rasheeda serves as a guide to the side of Mountairy Rock that he’s never seen. She warns him of the dangers of Mountairy Rock, of the wickedness of the Serpent Cult……and she warns him of the Demon.Though it’s the members of the Cult that will fight, kill, and die if necessary in their worship, Max must eventually deal with the Demon that is intent on possessing the Stone. After wave after wave of crazed maniacs and wicked serpent-men fail to capture it, the stage is set for the ultimate face-off between the Demon and an exhausted, beaten and spent Max in the back alleys of Mountairy Rock.So that’s my pitch. I’m looking for a bit of guidance and help navigating my publishing options. As I’ve said I’ve never been published but I have posted work to few web sites and have received very positive feedback. I also wrote a short story, Race War that will be featured in; Future Passage: The Black Science Fiction Society Anthology.The SERPENT CULT is complete and runs 144,000 words. It’s not the first book I’ve finished but it’s the first one I’m trying to get published and I’m hoping to make a SERIES out of it.…hence the word “chronicles” in the title…I know, I know; "Chronicles" has been SO run into the ground! But I had this title in my head long before everybody else jumped on the bandwagon and I'm gonna use it! I'm currently working on the second novel: The Mountairy Rock Chronicles: BLOOD CITY where Max battles both warring street gangs and a deranged serial killer. The third book will be based on a short story I wrote featuring Max called: The Ghost of P181. In Ghost a powerless Max must protect the woman he loves from an Urban Zombie in the basement of an abandoned project.…maybe Max is a superhero. Doesn’t that make it a Superhero Action Urban Occult Fantasy novel?…probably a bit redundant…THE MOUNTAIRY ROCK CITY CHRONICLES:THE SERPENT CULTPROLOGUE: SITE TWOWet soil sprayed a good ten feet when he landed. Barely… just barely… he managed to make it across the water and onto the other bank. Before he was even sure of his footing he turned, twisted and looked back across the narrow river into the dark shadows of the jungle on the other side. The bright full moon could not penetrate the dense canopy.Where were they?He sat there, down on one knee, as still and quiet as he could be. His lungs ached as he held his breath and strained his ears. Over the pounding of his heartbeat and the sound of the slow moving water he could hear nothing else.Had he lost them?Then came a bird’s angry warning cry. Just on the other side of the water but farther up the bank it, whatever bird it was, warbled twice; its nest was threatened.They were coming.He leapt up and ran on, delving into the dense jungle on his side of the river. Quickly he found an animal trail and followed it. It would be easier to run, easier to make good distance,…and easier for them to follow.Far too soon though he heard splashing behind him and knew they had reached the river. So he pumped his legs even harder, staying on the animal trail less the underbrush trip him.The moon seemed to run along side him, whenever it peaked through the trees. Though it was a clear night the heat and humidity made the air thick and heavy. It had rained earlier but that had done nothing to cool off the valley. Sweat poured out of his skin and soaked his clothes. That made running even harder but he pressed on.Another animal cried out. The call was one he did not recognize. Never the less whatever the beast was it was far off to his right now and behind him.He came to a stop. His pursuers had over shot him, perhaps thinking that he had followed the river. Again he held his breath and tried to listen past the blood beating in his ears.Another bird cry sounded this one even farther away. Slowly he let the breath go… exhaled and inhaled. He had lost them. They would follow the river all the way to the falls before they realized it. Only then would they would head back far too late to catch him.He cupped his hand over his wrist and pressed down on his watch face until it lit up with a faint indigo glow. It was almost four in the morning. They might reach the falls in fifteen minutes… turn back almost immediately… get back to base camp in an hour… search it for… ten minutes at the most before finding the invoices…After a second of calculation he figured that they could get to the airfield before six a.m. if it did not rain again. That meant they could stop the shipment.Quickly he looked about and found a thin, low hanging branch. Gripping it firmly he closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath,then snapped it.Almost at once he heard the rallying cry followed by the warning cries of half a dozen different animals. They were getting sloppy now, and desperate. He could almost hear them crashing through the jungle. Maybe, if he was lucky, one of them would come across something dangerous… poisonous hopefully.Not that it would stop them. They were too determined… too close to let something so pedestrian stop them now.He turned on his heel and took off again. They would catch him he knew, but not for a good while longer.The path he was on had taken him uphill a bit until the foliage fell away. The dense jungle gave way to a small rocky outcropping that lead further down into the valley which lay spread out before him. The moonlight painted the tops of the trees with pale blue light for as far as he could see. The distant horizon was faint but he swore he could see the glow of the coming dawn. He heard a snarl and turned and looked back into the jungle behind him.It could not be them… it was too soon…it was…Without another thought he spun and leapt from the outcropping and down to the hard soil leading into the valley. His fears were confirmed by the sound of something crashing through the shrubbery behind him, hard steps on the rock of the ridge;… several somethings.They had split up he realized and almost cursed aloud his frustration. A couple of the smart bastards had followed the animal trail he had taken. Then they kept quiet when he let their friends know where he was until they could get right on top of them.Without time to search out and find another path he simply plunged forward into the jungle trying to stay near the big trees where the undergrowth was minimal.But he was slower now and they had much larger strides. The jungle here was still dense and he could see only a few meters about him in any direction. The crashing thumping, stomping footsteps of his pursuers were behind him and on both sides just beyond the dark leaves, tree trunks and crisscrossing vines. Now that they had him they snarled, clicked, and trilled their triumph.No longer trying to keep silent he took in deep breaths and let them out in hard rasping howls. Branches and vines whipped at his face, knurled roots and rocks tripped his feet. He thundered on.But then he heard the flapping of a great bird’s wings and the dark screen of jungle ahead of him shook and swayed.He skid to a stop and looked about. They had him surrounded. Clicks, snarls, growls, hissing, and trills sounded all about him. They were smarter this time; they were going to attack together. They would not give him the chance to escape again.He checked his watch again.It was just past Four now. He had to hold out; keep them from finding out he had tricked them for as long as he could.They stomped closer, together, from each side.He pulled the dagger from his belt and swore a silent vow to himself as they breached the dark foliage with their bright shining eyes. He would not fail. He would not fall.Not until the dawn arrived and the plane took the shipment all the way to America and out of their reach forever.Chapter one:NEW YEARS IN MOUNTAIRY ROCK"Happy NEW YEAR!!!" The raucous refrain was followed by the distant sound of firecrackers and the loud, off key, singing of the traditional New Years song over the car radio. Maximillion Madigan listened woefully as he drove on having been forced to leave the festivities at King square. That was because of a sudden and mysterious call from the Director and head curator of Haley Museum, Dr. Odom King. It was a call that ordered him to go immediately to the Museum that night.“Damn!” He muttered to the empty passenger seat. His date for the evening had “declined” to accompany him to the Museum. Not that he blamed her; the party at King square was going to be the best one Mountairy Rock city had ever seen. When he left it had been so crowded that he could not even see the huge stage set in front of City hall through the throngs of people standing shoulder to shoulder on New City Ave. Although that should not have mattered; with all the parties and other celebrations going on in center city, there was plenty to see and do. The huge snowdrifts lining the side streets from the past storm only packed the crowds tighter, but did nothing to stop them from growing. There were exhibitions, vendors selling just about anything, music coming from several open doors along the avenue, pop stars performing live, and women running around baring their chests for beads in this crazy weather.It was New Years’ Eve in Mountairy Rock City and every year it got better and better, crazier and crazier. The city had a strong and well represented culturally diversity. That meant that tonight there was nowhere you could go in Mountairy Rock and not find a grand celebration going on… except for the Museum that is. For the past three years Dr. King had ordered the Museum closed during New Years’, usually for inventory. Several key parties that had been held there had been forced to move, not without a little resentment, to other parts of the school or the city. Especially the huge Mountairy Rock countdown party which was both New Years celebration and the City’s founding day celebration.That was the real reason for the blow out. Mountairy Rock was an old city, officially two hundred and ninety-five years old, and as the city got closer to its official tri-centennial the huge end of year party had been getting bigger every year. Now that party was being held in King square, on the other side of the city and far out of site in Max's rear view mirror. Or rather it had been held in King Square; Max had already heard the count down and fireworks.So that meant that he was going to get there a little late this year if at all. Hopefully, he could return to his date before she found another escort.His cell had gone off about fifteen before midnight, and like a complete idiot, he answered even though he knew it was his boss and mentor, Dr. King. The only reason King would have to call him in the middle of New Years’ Eve would have to be something of such importance that it would definitely bring his evening to an end. It turned out that someone had broken into the Museum and the Doctor wanted Max to be there, as he himself could not arrive for some time.Probably at the party he was hosting, having a ball! He thought. King was the curator of Haley museum, one of the largest museums in America. He was also a Professor and a Dean at Mountairy Rock University, where Max was doing his graduate studies in...“DAMN!” The young man cursed his luck. Even with it being the holidays there was always a good number of staff and security at the museum, so much so that he should not have been called no matter what the emergency was. Unfortunately because many of his superiors had gone to a research project taking place in Africa recently, Max was made Dr. King’s new top aid. If something had happened in the labs or offices where they had been working then it was important that someone who was familiar with what was going on to be there.Dammit! He had only been trying to talk with Rosette for a month and when she finally agrees to go out with him this happens. Hell, he had rented a Benz.The police were already there when he pulled up and Max saw half a dozen squad cars parked outside among the huge piles of plowed snow as well as a few ambulances. The usual over kill response the Museum usually got for alarms and such. Money demands attention and the Museum and the University were the two biggest moneymakers the city had in the past century.The lot was so filled that Max had to park the rental a good distance away from the museum. All six feet three inches of him stepped out of the car. The long black over coat blew impressively as he walked down the row of police cars and snow banks. It was his good one, and also his only one as was the suit beneath it. His good hat had been lost so he complimented his wardrobe with a black baseball cap, the number 76 emblazed in white on it. It was as sharp a look as he could manage and he was going to be wasting it on cops and a stupid break-in. With any luck he would be able to get out of there soon, find Rosette and somehow salvage the night.There were only two officers just outside the big double doors of the Museum’s barbican; the huge medieval guardhouse, but he knew there would be more in the Museum itself. Careful of ice he ran up the steps, noticing that one of the policemen was bent over."Excuse me? I'm Max Madigan. Dr. King sent me over to see what happened." The officer who was bent over stood up and wiped his mouth, the mess on the ground was apparent. Max almost smiled. It looked like these cops took to the New Year’s festivities early, and hard."Go ahead inside.” said his partner, who did not even bother to look in Max's direction. “They're expecting you."Carefully he stepped past the officers, through the barbican, and across the causeway that sat over the empty basin of the moat. Why the cop couldn’t stop here to gag, instead of inside the barbican, Max did not know.This was Haley Museum’s main visitor entrance, still very much the old world castle for tourists. The moat was usually full and fed by an under ground waterway originating from and flowing back out to Cobbs river but in winter it was blocked off and kept empty. From the front of the Museum, which sat on Germantown Avenue, this was the only way to gain entrance. Students, Professors and employees entered through the “Dock” along the side. The fact that the police and Ambulance vehicles were sitting out in front must have meant that whatever had happened, must have happened either in the Gatehouse, maybe in the Outer Bailey beyond or worse, in the Main building of the Museum itself.In that case it could have been something that happened in the South tower where Dr. King’s offices and labs were, and where Max worked.As he passed through the Gatehouse door he spotted the broken glass on the floor. The glass front door that was cut out of the larger drawbridge, which had not been lowered since before the town was founded, had been broken open. Cold winter air blew into the Gatehouse behind him when he entered but that did not stop a strong acrid smell from making him wince as he took it in. What was it?It was almost as cold inside here as it was outside. The Museum was always a cold drafty place anyway and the heating system never seemed to be able to compensate, but now it was so cold he could see his breath. There was another officer just inside the vestibule standing there apparently waiting for the ill officer. The look on this officer’s face made Max feel an even greater chill."What happened?" He could already see that the Gatehouse was in shambles. “You guys had your New Year’s party here again?” He was joking, but the police man’s face only grew tauter."Thought it was just vandalism, until we found the bodies." The officer stated flatlyBodies?
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ghettoManga.com

comics.hipHop.news.art.cultureThe Museum of Uncut Funk is officially the shiznit people! they CONSISTANTLY educate me on the untold history of black comics. their feature on Black Music and Comics not only covered books i knew about (KRS ONE's Break the Chain), but they dropped dime on books about Public Enemy, Ice-T and 2 Live Crew that i never even HEARD of... and that's just the hip hop stuff! but the Museum always goes deep to break you off the knowledge, and sports a comicbook collection any comics nerd would covet! peep 'em here www.musuemofuncutfunk.com.holla!-samax
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World of Hurt

“Funkemporium!” May 1st, 2009Gotta give some link love to The Museum of Uncut Funk!Described by curator Pamela Thomas, aka “Sister Tofunky,” as “The planet’s first virtual museum dedicated to the celebration and preservation of the FUNK!,” The Museum of Uncut Funk has more galleries than the Smithsonian Institution. Before you click the link, get yourself a two-day pass and pack a lunch, ’cause you’ll definitely be there a while and you’ll STILL have to come back for more.The Museum of Uncut Funk is split into approximately 7 different virtual “galleries.” The galleries spin off from the main collection. Each gallery focuses on a different aspect of 70’s Black pop culture, and most combine the blog format with permanent exhibits dedicated to that focus. My favorite gallery is sort of a hodge-podge, catch-all for Ms. Thomas, entitled “Can’t Get Enough…Of that Funky Stuff Blog,” however I also dug the “Jim Kelly Exhibit,” for its breezy, but informative, multi-media look at the man’s life and career . Each gallery boasts a wide array of funky memorabilia from Ms. Thomas’ personal collection, like Blaxploitation movie posters, Blaxploitation soundtrack album cover art, and Blaxploitation-themed comic books. One of the most interesting aspects of The Museum of Uncut Funk is that every exhibit contains at least one “Where The Hell Did She Get That?” entry. I thought I knew a little something about Blaxploitation culture, but Sister ToFunky humbles even the most jaded collector with unexpected treasures like the Egyptian poster for Sheba Baby or original production art from an aborted Hanna-Barbera cartoon called The Blackstones. (Think The Flintstones, but…y’know, Black.)Along with the fun, Ms. Thomas’ site includes sobering glimpses of how Blacks were depicted before we had the means and opportunities to control our images with an exhibit showcasing pre-Civil Rights era crate labels that included stereotypical images of bug-eyed mammies and barefoot pickaninnies toting baskets full of yams. The Museum is also building exhibits dedicated to Blacks on stamps and currencies from around the world.The only minor drawback to The Museum of Uncut Funk is that the main gallery pages are embedded with sound files that automatically load when you go to the page. The sound files are fantastic, tight cuts from groups like The Ohio Players and The Jimmy Castor Bunch, but if your computer loads slowly, it could be the equivalent of going to the museum and waiting in line behind an old lady with six screaming grandkids, trying to pay by check. You might be in line a while, but it’s definitely worth the wait.www.worldofhurtonline.comwww.museumofuncutfunk.com- JEP
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Penelope and Otto discuss all things social and sexual!

Listen to In Like Flynn on internet talk radio

In the news this week: Elections in Iran: Should we be concerned with the outcome? Essence magazine has published its top 25 Slow jams - See which ones made Penelope and Otto's list! And tonight Errett Thomas discusses "Some times you have just have some fun. If you stay stressed it comes out. It could cause your attitude to appear negative and you may not even know it." and considering the JHoys of Less - can you live your life with less? Join us tonight at 11pm CST for these issues and more on this installment of In Like FlynnJoin us in the Chat room or call in and Speak with Penelope, Otto, and Errett Thomas, the author of How to Make One Million Dollars in One Year at 718/508-9683

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