Ring Ring Ring

Game of Groans
Think about an object, an activity, or a cultural phenomenon you really don’t like. Now write a post (tongue in cheek or not — your call!) about why it’s the best thing ever.


Remember back in  the olden days when all you could do on a  phone was talk into it?

It just sat on a table or it hung on the wall and when it rang  you had to run to it and hope the other person didn’t hang up  before you could answer it.

Now you can carry your phone around with you anywhere you go.

Even if you are in an accident and  strapped to a stretcher with you head immobilized you can not only answer  your phone, you can take a selfie and go to Facebook and update your status to say something like, ‘ I think my neck is broken and everyone in my car and the other car are smashed to a bloody pulp and they’re all dead but at least the Paramedics are hot LOL.”

You can text message  from your phone too- but those aren’t just four or five sentences forced to exist  together like couples in an arranged marriage. Oh no. Those are literary  gems. If Hemingway were alive he’d die with envy because text messages are so concise so well crafted so alive.  Plus you can do little faces like this you
to get your point across…instead of you know, explaining yourself.

Text messages are the best thing ever, instead of talking you can just send a picture of a woman sitting on a rock and looking off into the distance or arranging flowers.

Back when I was a kid that was how Kotex and Tampon said ‘buy our products’.


Nowadays the same image means you’re centered and feeling strong and the person you send the Tampon Ad to will know it and you don’t have to say, ” I’m doing fine. Thanks for asking. How are you doing?”

I love my phone.

It whistles and sings to me and I’m not ashamed to admit when it calls I am it’s slave and I do whatever it tells me to do- update it, recharge it, make sure it’s safe and away from harm at all times.

I’d drop a baby before I’d drop my phone.

I worry  that when it gets older  I’ll have to think about replacing it- I mean we have a life together me and my phone.

My phone, my companion,  my connection to the world, what was I before you?

I was an empty shell. I know that now.

Never leave me- I can’t exist, do NOT exist without you.

Blue Is The New Yuck

______ is the new ______
Click over to your favorite blog, and pick out the 4th and 14th words (that aren’t “the” or “an”). Drop them into this phrase:
“__BLUE___ is the new _YUCK____.”
There’s your post title. Now write!
Photo: A.M Moscoso

Photo: A.M Moscoso

I used to tell everyone that my favorite colors were Black and Blue.

Everyone would roll their eyes around and laugh and say of  course because I wore a leather jacket, I rode motorcycles, I played the guitar and I wrote horror stories and worshipped Stephen King and Clive Barker.

So of COURSE black and blue were my favorite colors.

But in my dark heart where I wrote stories about people being buried alive, killer grandma’s, cannibals and murderous ghosts I loved pink.

I adored pink and I didn’t wear a spot of it on my person.

Nothing I owned was pink.

There was a reason for that.

Do you know the world is full of pink haters?

Something about that color sets people’s teeth on edge- mostly women.

I guess it’s because Pink is associated with vulnerability and  dare I say youth and innocence.

My great Aunt was buried in a pink coffin and she was one of those ladies who wore pearls and looked prim and proper and she could whip your ass with one arm tied behind her back and she could whistle between her teeth.

She wore dark colors too, but she always had something pink around her.

As I’ve gotten older and less inclined to hide my feelings I have released my inner demon which is pink.

It’s a dark lovely shade of  pink and it’s deadly vicious and it carries around this magic marker and when I run into a Pink Hater I can see it slither up their leg straight to their face and it magic markers, ” dumb ass ” on their forehead.

In pink of course.

So now days I always have  something pink on me- my shades, my nails, my purse something I’m wearing.

Just a little splash of ” Kiss My Ass “

For real, hating a color is like hating puppies or kittens.

Who does that?

And why did I ever care?

Sunny Longyear Goes To Mars

Simply the Best

NASA is building a new Voyager spacecraft that will carry the best of modern human culture. What belongs onboard?


Captain Longyear came from a long line of pilots.

Her Grandmother was a pilot, her  Aunt was a pilot her cousin Lane was a pilot, and Sunny had flown the same path- but in her case, this time she was flying to Mars.

Sunny’s last trip had been to Callisto.

Callisto was supposed to be a lifeless  hunk of rock but it wasn’t and when Sunny came back her entire crew had been infected by Callisto and within a days they were dead.

Callisto just spun around and as it did it reached into their heads and shut their neurons down one at a time.

It’s what Callisto did and it was lesson learned and nobody ever went back there again, but they did continue  fly to Mars, to Venus and Pluto and landed something on every single asteroid that was dumb enough to get to close to Earth.

Humanity couldn’t stop once they got out there into the System. They were all over the place- planting flags, mining, and on some of the Moons they were even farming in domes and sending submarines to explore Oceans on moons that weren’t  technically alive and could shut your brain down for the hell of it.


This trip to Mars was supposed an easy one. It  was one of those feel good missions- use the budget or lose it so someone came up with the great idea of collecting the best of human culture, stuffing it into a box and burying  it on a radioactive world.

She guessed it was in case anything happened one day and all that was left of humanity was going to be safe and buried on Mars.

Only Sunny figured if there was no Earth the chances there would be a Mars to was slim to none but what the Hell.

There were four passengers on this flight. Sunny’s crew of 2 and a robot cat and a robot dog because about 100 years ago it was the only way to get people to agree to 10 year missions – they could take a pet.



They had been on Mars for a week and Sunny watched with infinite patience as the  four passengers and two of her crew carefully packed the best of human culture in airless glass boxes- in the random collection were pictures, musical instruments, wine, books.

Sunny was stunned

It looked like a garage sale down in the cargo hold.


One day Sunny grabbed a survival pack, a shovel the dog  and a cruiser and began to disappear for about three hours a day.

She came back in just before sunset and upon each return she was always in a better mood then the day before.

” What are you doing out there?” Daisy Farmer one of the Humanity Reps asked her as she was getting read for her daily trip out.

” Oh, communing with nature.”

” Mars has nature?

Sunny tapped the side of her nose, whistled for the dog and this time she took the cat too.


It was Daisy who followed Sunny out on the eve their last day on Mars.

Sunny was leaning against a rock and the dog and cat were doing what all robot animals do when Daisy found them.

” I’m just curious Captain, what you do when you come out here.”

” Do you know what I learned on Callisto?” Sunny asked

Daisy shook her head.

” I learned that when you did and drill and force things into shapes and to look like something they are not, sometimes Daisy they say ouch. And then they kick your ass all over the Solar system. Not very humane of us is it? Torturing some poor planet and then cutting it open and shoving our crap into its carcass.”

” I suppose not” not Daisy said while wondering if Captain Longyear was sane or not.

” Well, I’m just trying to balance things out, come one I’ll show you.”

Daisy followed Sunny over a ridge and down a hill and the cat and dog ran ahead and then Della looked to where Sunny was pointing and she saw the six empty graves.

And then the Martian sky seemed to turn black and Daisy Farmer fell into eternity, a true representative of human culture