Monday, September 17, 2012

I'll Accept "Retardeder" As A Word Because I'm From Florida, or Her Teeth Were The Same Color As Her Shirt (At Least The Yellow Part Of It)

U R famous LOL...

Oh, it's almost a funny kind of cosmic irony that when I went into my e-mail this afternoon before I sat down to begin this post that I found that written to me in a direct message from someone on Twitter.  It was accompanied by a link which went to FaceBook to some blank app page or another.  I sat and looked at it for a minute, then closed it out.  I tried the link a couple of more times with the same result.  I found myself wondering if it was just that, just another of those useless, glitched re-directs, or if maybe there was something more to it.

Well, of course in the cosmic scheme of things, the reason I found this vague statement ironic was that I had seen it before, actually more than once, attached to snide comments directed to me on Literotica.  It was not my intention to begin this post by mentioning Literotica, and I will get more into that subject later on, but that vague comment, since I have no clue what it was about, surely smacked of it.  I'm not sure if it was meant in reference to a "tweet", or something I had posted on das Booken, or even if it was referring to the video intro to this post, the first ever House Of Master Vyle MiniSode, Preview Of Coming Distractions.

U R famous LOL...


To anyone who has ever said that to me in the past, I guess the joke is on you.  If you know me, or if you have been reading this blog, then you know that fame and fortune are not the overriding and main motivating goals in my life.  Surely I would like to be successful enough at what I do to someday be able to do it exclusively.  I would also one day love to be well known.  Who wouldn't?  But famous, over anything I have done thus far?  Or to even have the delusion that I am in my own mind?


Fame isn't something for me to decide.  That will forever be in the hands of my readers to decide.  Fame is a someday far off, if ever, thing.  It's nothing I long for, or crave, or even dream about all the time.  I'm the one noted for one thing, no matter what I or anyone else might say about me, and that is this:  I do things differently, and I do them under my own terms.  It might not get me anywhere far fast.  It might not get me anywhere at all.  However, this is the way I am going to do what it is I do.  I am taking the slow road, and if it's the Slow Road To Nowhere, then so be it.  The main thing for me is that I matter to the people who matter the most to me.  That is the thing I have wanted the most in life, and at times in the depths of despair thought I would never be worthy of having.  Fame and fortune is nothing compared to that.  Famous people are forgotten all the time.  Rich people lose everything all the time.  What I have is forever.  If I ever end up with those other side effects from anything I write or do I'll accept them and enjoy them for as long as they last, but they will never compare to the love of my wife and children.

U R famous LOL...

If posting shitty and hastily written stories on some story submission site is a guarantee of fame, then I guess I'll never be famous.  Oh, poor me, and BOO-fuckin'-HOO!

And now that that little bit of seriousness is over with I will get to that thing, which though I am unsure if it was what was meant in this case, but it has been the case, that makes "U R famous LOL..." crop up in snide comments, that thing I am "famous", or rather infamous for:  Pissin' people off!


The above pictures were taken on my last vacation day of the year.  Just before the start of the school year, oh yes, that magical time when the kids go off to the institutes of higher learning, or those places down here they go to cram to pass the FCAT for the first part of the year and do absolutely nothing for the rest of the year.  Myself, along with the lovely lady vyle, Quentin, and my in-laws, all went to Siesta Key for the day to enjoy the beach and the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico for the afternoon.  And I have to say that an enjoyable and relaxing time was had by all, and it was additionally better than the trip the lady vyle and I had taken a few weeks earlier with Alex and Cali, and of course Tropical Storm Debby.

Of course you can see I was decked out in my beach going best:  Pool shoes from Wal-Mart (a Florida staple).  Peter Grimm, wannabe horror host style hat.  Panama Jack shades.  Black Hawaiian print swim trunks, with a tropical drink t-shirt, and an orange button up over-shirt.  Beach parasol from the Umbrella Corporation's Raccoon City summer line.  Does it make me look like I'm actually from Florida or more like a tourist?  Hard to say, but most would agree that the outfit is 100% Michael C. Laney/Master Vyle either way.

Yes, it was a pleasant day of fun for all, all the way around.  That was, at least until I got home.

Well, of course you know how most stories like this end.  Last day of vacation.  You get home from the beach.  You go back to work.  That's where the pleasantness ends.  Right?

Well, not quite.

At the end of the afternoon everyone was quite baked, even Quentin, despite his heritage.  So, since the house (of Master Vyle), was on the way, my in-laws dropped them there and I rode on with them to their house to help them unload their car and to pick up ours since we had went down together.  I also needed to pick up some cat food, Friskies in particular, because we had given our feline family their last can that morning, and our house is a feed us or be eaten place after about five, dry food or no.  So, from the in-laws' I drove further up the road to the local Sweetbay, because: One they sell Friskies cheaper than anyone else in the area and we have five (inside) cats, and Two I suggested grabbing a rotisserie chicken to save any of us the trouble of cooking anything.  Yes, two steps, a simple plan.

Indeed, my plan did seem to go off without a hitch.  I cruised on down, listening to a little Halcali on the way.  I grabbed a chicken.  I loaded up on 30 cans of Friskies (no two cans the same, because Socks obeys that old rule set forth by Gallagher, despite the fact he's never seen his show).  Went right through the line, no waiting.  Zoom, out to the car.

Then, it's as I'm loading my few purchases in the trunk, that I hear a car come up behind me.  Nothing unusual about that.  However, it does not immediately pull into the empty space beside me, and in the space of about a second I am thinking, Well, that's weird.  And then, laughter.  Snorting, obnoxious, side splitting laughter.

When you're my age, and you've lived enough life, and especially if you have kids, you get that sense going on.  So, I didn't have to really put any heavy thought into what the woman (it was plainly a woman laughing) in the car was laughing at.  Now, mind you, I had lost my hat and shades to drive and shop.  I had even lost my, oh, so pretty, umbrella.  And I knew, that no matter where I was, at this point, dressed as I was, for any day of the year in Florida, I was dressed pretty much like anyone else.  So, as I continued to place the last of my bags in the trunk I cut my eyes back to get a slight glance as this woman is doubled up over her steering wheel laughing at me, still stopped right behind me and making no attempt to hide the fact.

Now, you know, not even another second had a chance to tick by before the Florida sun wasn't the only thing making me hot.

She finally pulled into the space on the passenger side of my car, still laughing her ass off, as I reached up and slammed my trunk.  Ms. Giggler was driving a shiny, black BMW.  My eyes went right to the plates, which were Florida plates that lacked any county marking and proclaimed "SUNSHINE STATE", which around 75% of the time means rental.  She killed the engine and was still roaring with laughter, and as I walked around to the driver's side of my car it's pretty much safe to say that I was replaying in my head every sour incident that I had lived with for somewhere around 30 years of my life or so.  Instead of getting right in I kind of ground my gums between my teeth, really looking Ms. Giggler in the BMW over.

Now to say she was nothing special would be an understatement.  She looked pretty much like the run of the mill, anybody you could pass on the street: slim-ish, curly blond hair, maybe mid-40's if that, white shirt with a beach scene airbrushed on it.  She did have a horse mouth that was filled with a set of teeth that would be an orthodontist's dream.  Her teeth were the same color as her shirt (at least the yellow part of it).  Honestly, if not for the laughing that wouldn't stop I wouldn't remember a single thing about seeing her if she had just pulled up and parked like a "normal" person.  In fact her passenger was much more memorable.  He looked like Larry the Cable Guy on meth, and he was even dressed the part too.  IN A FREAKIN' BMW!

I can't help myself, but to steal one of those "Blue Collar" Comedians' lines, "That's funny.  I don't care who you are."

Yes, I love to make people laugh, but I love to do it deliberately, and there are reasons.  They say comedians do their best to make other people laugh and smile because they are miserable, or have lead horrible lives.

Hand raised.  Right here!

However there is a huge difference between getting someone to laugh and that mocking laughter meant to do nothing more than ridicule, the same kind I had heard for the longest time.

I know there are quite a few people who would be more than willing to point out that ridiculing people is my thing, and yeah, to an extent maybe it is, however at 40 I would never get right up on someone I didn't know or have some real problem with and start laughing at them for the way they were dressed, or they way they looked, or the color of their skin, or if they were in a wheelchair, or any number of asinine reasons that I am sure Ms. Giggler seemed to think it was okay to belly laugh at anyone, for no other reason than maybe to impress "Scary" the Cable Guy.

Again, when you've lived long enough, have the life experience, of course you know, as I did, it wasn't all just about the clothes.  Ms. Giggler was laughing at me because she thought I was gay, which she was half-right about.  When you've spent a majority of your life, everywhere you've ever been, being called a fag, and a homo and a gayford, and a queer since middle school there's something about the way they laugh at you, even when they don't say it, that just screams it into your soul.  Remember  that above I mentioned I was replaying ever sour moment from about the past 30 years of my life in my head as I stood there.  There had only been one other time that I had ever really let loose, a couple of years ago, when after being inundated with continual e-mails and reminders to register and update my profile information on the Class Of 1990's website for the 20 year reunion that I finally exploded, filling out the requested information with a vyle style rant, and slamming my fellow classmates as I finally came out as being bisexual, in a huge and public way, and letting most of the people I had attended Auburndale High School with know that they had made me feel miserable because I was made to feel ashamed to be who I was before I could even understand what it meant to be bisexual, or even understand that there was a concept of such a thing as guys being bisexual.

Having grown up in the 70's and 80's I am sure that many of you reading this can probably appreciate that I had a very difficult time freely being who I was and understanding it.  The time I grew up in was difficult enough.  That was further compounded by the fact that I grew up in Polk County, Florida.  It's still not a shining beacon of high civilization today, but especially through my elementary and middle school years the attitudes here were extremely rural and provincial.  Tormented Barry Prince from my short story Frog Nog was truly me.  To make matters worse I had lived through two extended incidents of sexual molestation where I was victimized by members of the same sex covering a period of nearly eight years, and those increased the sense of self-loathing I had at any attraction or curiosity I had toward members of the same sex to the point that I truly felt like I was the twisted pervert everyone called me for no reason.  So I did what anyone in my situation would do.  I buried and did the best I could to hide those feelings from everyone, even myself, played the muy macho tough guy who hated "fags", and did my best to date every girl who would show me the slightest bit of attention, in a town of women who didn't want to be within 50 feet of me.

Did I feel like the outcast almost all the time?

Oh, yeah!

Back to Ms. Giggler though, as fate would have it another car pulled into to the space beside me on the driver's side, so I stepped a little closer to my door and acted as if I were finally going to get inside my own car.  I had no doubt that she was going to get out then, as someone else being present is always the cue of the coward and bully to slink around as if they're innocent and pure as new born lamb.  Numbers, even if they're not within their own little group, always give cowardly little bitches like her confidence.  Again, I know because I have years of experience to back this up, actually dating all the way back to the third grade and Tyron Rove.  I mention Tyron Rove by name for no other reason than I suspect he became such a success and a shining example of humanity.  (Yeah, right.)  But, anyway, the lady who pulled up on my driver's side worked her way out of her car, a cute and short black BBW who I like to imagine was there to pick up a few things, just as I had been.  All safe because there was someone else around Ms. Giggler got the windows up, and then she and Scary the Cable Guy exited the Beamer.

Well, unfortunately Ms. Giggler didn't know she had been laughing at Master Vyle.  She also didn't know that since he had "come out" that he had been dealing with one person who had been a pretty good friend to him, who now treated him as if he didn't exist, every single day.  Thirty years of pent up aggression, loosing it once already, a pseudo-friend acting like you've got the plague, the Florida heat, and someone who should know better acting like they're a little kid from like 1984, it all adds up to something and that something is nothing good.

I let Ms. Giggler and Scary the Cable Guy get to the trunk of their rented BMW, and they both kind of giggled to each other as they looked to each other with the car still between them.  The black lady was just closing her door.  I glanced to her and she gave me a quick smile and said, "Hello."  Then I looked back to the not-so-dynamic duo as they joined one another behind the rental, and that's when I let loose.

"So, what's so funny there, Ms. Giggler?  The fact that, I don't know, I'm dressed like everyone else in Florida, or is it that Doc Brown and Marty dropped you at the rental company and all they had was a Beamer and you still can't believe you incredible luck?"

Well, they both turned and looked at me.  Total deers in the headlights.  Because of course, you know, I was expected to never say anything back.  Plus I'm guessing they were both, more than likely, heavily processing, my Back To The Future reference.  Good thing I didn't go with Buckaroo Banzai or Doctor Who, because they would probably still be standing in the same spot today trying to think it out right now.

The lady who had parked on the other side of me stopped short of her trunk and said, "Uh-oh."  We had never met, but it was apparent from my tone that she knew what was coming.

"Oh, what?  Nothing to say?"  I questioned after they stood there for a second without offering a response of any kind.  "Did you exhaust your vocal cords laughing, or is it just that you're too fuckin' stupid to offer a decent explanation of why you find me so funny?  Is it my SEXY swim suit?  Is it my GAY hair?  Come on and tell me!  Enquiring minds want to know!"  I swept my hands back at the woman who had parked on the other side of me.

Well, I can tell you with a smile on my face that that action had the desired effect, because that cute shorty of a black lady just, "HA-HAed", even louder than Ms. Giggler had been laughing.

"Do y'all think you're special or something?"  I questioned, stepping back toward the rear of my car.  Ms. Giggler and Scary the Cable Guy took a couple of steps away from their rental.  "What?  Do you think I haven't been hearing shit like this, like, fuckin' forever?  They've been calling me a queer-bait and a faggot since third grade.  And it's just rolled on from there, like I've got the fuckin' plague, everywhere I go and everything I do.  And I'm BISEXUAL, BY the way, FREAKIN' pun INTENDED.  If you know what a FREAKIN' pun is.  So, again, you're nothing new, you're nothing SPECIAL, other than your gigglin' and fuckin' droolin'!  And BI the way, Scary the Cable Guy, I've been told by many a man that I suck dick better than their wives do, so if you want to find out...,"  I paused, "but then again I don't really look forward to a case of syphilis of the mouth."

That last bit was enough to make the lady behind me double over laughing in pretty much the way I imagine that Melody Dewberry does when I make comments on LiveStream when we're all watching something classic and horrible on The Bone Jangler Show.  And then, just like magic, there's this voice from the other end of the shopping center yelling, "You go, sister!"

Well, this was finally enough to spur the not-to-dynamic duo into action.  Each swallowing hard they beat a path to the safe haven of the waiting grocery store.  "Yeah, run along!"  I called after them.  "Because everyone knows that high classed, white trash, rednecks that rent BWMs shop at the fuckin' Sweetbay, because you're too fuckin' good to go to Wal-Mart!"

After she had a chance to recover from her own laughing fit the woman who had parked beside me walked up to me and paused before herself heading the rest of the way into the store.  "Oh, Jesus, that was so funny," she said.  "Don't ever let people like that get away with givin' you shit."

"Oh, I won't."

Her eyes wide she nodded and chuckled again.  "Yeah.  Somehow I get that feelin' you don't."  She snorted out another giggle, then told me to take care before heading into the store, and from the look of her she started laughing again as she made her way to the doors.

As I have looked back it surprises me that his incident occurred in Lake County, which is semi-ritzy.  Granted it happened in the extreme southern part of Lake County, but still when it comes to ignorance in this area I still expect it to be centered in my home county, good old Polk County, Florida.

Yes, I still find Polk County to be a black hole of ignorance.  The fact that I am again dealing with the Polk County School System has been a nice and warm reminder.  Warm, like trails of chunky pant gravy running down the back of your legs.  Yes, what other school system would offer free lunches to runaways.  Really?  Free lunches for runaways?  Because I was always under the impression that when kids ran away from home they generally avoided places their parents might find them, like school.

Also shit my own pants laughable are the maximum charge limits for students who forget to bring a lunch or lunch money.  In the memo the school board sent out it states that, "We have a strong commitment to feeding the students of Polk County...", however the maximum charge limit for high school students who forget to bring their lunches or lunch money is (loooooooong drum roll) $0.00.  Yes, that's right ZERO DOLLARS and ZERO CENTS.  Because, yes, it is important for all students to eat a proper meal, but if you're a runaway who forgets to pack a lunch or does not bring any lunch money you're all good.  Better still charge limits for other schools are token amounts like $7.00 and $5.00, and those (according to what is printed just below the charge schedule) can be lowered at the discretion of the principal of each individual school as they see fit.  Wow, and again, it is VERY IMPORTANT to the Polk County School Board that ALL STUDENTS have a chance to eat a proper meal because they have that strong commitment to feeding the students of Polk County.  Now, that said, when a student (and one assumes this means a student anywhere other than in high school) exceeds their charge limit, then they have the opportunity to have a "lower cost" alternative meal provided.  These meals cost between $0.60, and $0.90.  Mmmmm... yes, and if a student who has not brought money and maxes out their charge account should require the money to pay for this alternative meal, where exactly does that come from?

Oh, yes.  I 'll accept retardeder as a word because I'm from Florida.  POLK COUNTY, FLORIDA.  Yes, I did graduate in the top 25% of my graduating class.  NO, it wasn't that hard, even in 1990!  But, of course, we still just had the SATs back then, where the students were actually graded instead of the schools.  Sad part, it's pretty apparent that students from the bottom 75% of graduating classes from across the country are now in charge of the Polk County School Board.  Really not surprising either when you think about it.  After all, I'm betting if you walked into any mall, anywhere in America, on any given day and yelled, "Who wants to be the King of the Idiots?" a majority of the people within earshot will raise their hands.

Now here's another little tidbit on "alternative meals".  If your student, again Kindergarten to Eighth Grade, has to eat an alternative breakfast, they're treated to a delicious, and oh, so nutritious meal of graham crackers and milk or orange juice.  Mmmmmmm... Graham crackers, the breakfast of champions.  It's as if the Polk County School Board wants to thumb their nose at these kids like the bullies of old and yell, "Nayh, nayh, nayh, nayh, nayh, you're family is so poor you can't even afford Pop Tarts!"  Better still for just that $0.30 more they don't have they can get alternative lunch instead, where they will be treated to that delicacy or delicacies, A SANDWICH!  (Yes, the answer to that age old question, What can $0.30 extra get you?  More than graham crackers.)  I can only, and with about 100% certainty, guess that the titular sandwich in question would be the dreaded bologna sandwich, which, by the way, is the exact same thing they serve for lunch at the Polk County Correctional Facility.  WOOOHOOOOO, Polk County School Board, way to prepare the best and the brightest Florida has to offer for their eventual future!  Two thumbs straight up!  I suppose it's a good thing that a majority of this citizenry of Polk County are either dirt poor or runaways and can take advantage of free and reduced priced lunches in the first place.  Right?  I'm even more glad my student packs his own lunch.

Ahhh, the Polk County School Board!  They haven't (personally) failed to let me down since 1976!

Now, it's not that I'm not happy to be done with Osceola County and the, oh, so wonderful, Four Corners Charter School with its cast of idiots, parents dumb enough to give Ms. Giggler and Scary the Cable Guy a run for their money, and an administration staff with no background in education, however there are things about school this year that peeve me as a parent and taxpayer off.  In particular the main office, which is about the size of that prison Rick and the gang were eying on the trailers for The Walking Dead.  When you walk inside you enter this waiting area that, and I shit you not, is larger than any home I have ever lived in.  In fact you can fit my mother's new monster of a house inside of it, and probably clear five feet over the roof.  This area has a counter in the middle and a desk off to each side, a few chairs along the walls and other than that is filled with absolutely nothing.  It's larger than freakin' Darth Sidious' office.  And what makes this phenomenal waste of space even worse is that if you walk down the hallway directly behind it you find the same set up pretty much mirrored on the other side of the building.  I think that if the issue of overcrowded schools ever comes up it should be mandatory for all parents and taxpayers to visit this office, just so they can see how the architect and the Polk County School Board raped them out of a huge chunk of change to build this waste of space.  The class rooms themselves by the way are the same size as class rooms have been in every school since time immemorial, so... mmmmmm.... yeah, good job Polk County, you never fail to let me down.  Honestly, kids, what I want most is to know how many boxes of graham crackers could have been bought for the price of this office that's large enough for a Jedi vs. Sith lightsaber battle, force lightning and all.  Better yet, how many boxes of graham crackers would it take to fill the volume of this room?  Probably enough to feed "alternative breakfast" to every student in Polk County, every school day, for the next ten years.  AT LEAST.

Also helping the school system shine in Polk County, not even three weeks into the school year and we have a teacher arrested for "sexting" with an underage student.  Ah, the miracles of the 21st Century.  Man, I remember when I was in school and underaged students actually banged their teachers.  Yep, that was all fun and games, until someone got pregnant.  Ooops.  Too bad her hubby was in a vegetative state.  But, hell it was the 90's.  No arrest or criminals records back then.  Just a little resignation in disgrace and that awkward divorce, followed by an even more awkward marriage to a dashing stud who, I'm pretty sure, graduated in the bottom 75% of the class.  (Except for maybe one class.  Hhehehehehehehe.)  Yes, I'm pretty sure that marriage is still going strong today.

Anyway, not everything about Polk County, Florida is absolutely terrible.  It does actually have it's good points.  There is of course, me.  Hhhehehehehehe.  (Sorry, I couldn't resist.)  Of course Dr. Paul Bearer, Dick Bennick, my hero, lived here a great many years, as well as George Jenkins, who believe it or not is another man I do greatly admire.  Of course the very first Red Lobster was opened in Lakeland in 1968, and although I abstain from seafood they do make nice little steaks and chicken breasts.  And despite the fact that, for the most part, my school years were a very difficult time, I did make lasting friendships with people who are dear to me.  People like Marie Barnes, Jerry Duley, Jenny Shafar, Troy Austin and Brian Levi to name just a few.  However, when it comes to friends, the one who I have had the longest and has always meant the most has been my best friend, Scott Smith.

Back when my life was becoming a train wreck due to the ending of my first marriage Scott's life was pretty much becoming somewhat of a train wreck as well.  We lost contact with each other, and had no clue where the other was for nearly 14 years.  If you are a regular reader of this blog (which, yes, I realize, that's like three people), then you may have read my post last year Joining das FaceBooken: Why I Dit It in which I spilled out my main motivation for ever joining FaceBook was in the hopes of reconnecting with my best friend.  Well, it did take around a year, and to my surprise he was the one who tracked me down, but it still finally happened.  I have to say that from our conversations on the phone, and even chatting through "social media", a new medium for us, it was nearly as if no time at all had passed.

Scott paid us a visit on Labor Day, and we had a chance to catch up face to face.  Again, not much has changed, other than he's gone a little gray, while I've gone blond.  Hhehehehehehe.  Currently Scott is playing bass in the up and coming band Divided/Bye.  Of course you know I think that's cool, because he, as well as I, am doing the thing that he has always wanted to do.  Now back in our freshman year of high school, or rather our last year in junior high school... Yes, that's right, we attended junior high school, because again, we're from Polk County, Florida!  But, anyway, in our, erstwhile senior year of junior high school we came up with the idea for a band, despite the fact that at the time Scott could barely play a guitar of any sort, and that I could play nothing, or even sing worth a shit.  (Hey, it was going to be a speed/death metal band anyway, so what did it matter?)

Anyway, I had the name and gimmick all figured out, Afterbirth!  Oh, yeah, it's as sick and as twisted as it sounds.  Yes, Afterbirth would have had this huge, Iron Maiden-esque, stage set up, however, instead of having a huge robot Eddie that could walk out on stage and shoot sparks out of its eyes there was going to be a gigantic set of female legs, one on each side of the band.  (Yeah, I'm pretty sure you know where this is going.)  At the start of the show the crowd pretty much gets hosed as the "water" breaks.  Then throughout the concert there are burst of blood and little chunks of faux meat.  At the climax of the show a huge, foam, baby would be shot from a cannon into the center of the crowd.  And of course, finally, at the finale, great fountains of "blood" and faux gore would erupt from between the legs, shooting over the drummer's head as the titular afterbirth came into play.

What can I say?  That was the vision of a couple of 15 year old would be rock gods back in 1986.  Too bad rap and Metallica had to come along and fuck it up.

Divided/Bye (left to right) Scott Smith bass and backing vocals, Josh Day drums, and Rob Cox vocals and lead guitar.

Now, if you're going to be in the Lakeland, Florida Area the last weekend of October do not miss your chance to see Divided/Bye and help support a good cause.  On Saturday, October 27, Divided/Bye and three other bands will be taking part in Bands 4 Boobs.  Yes, that's right, Bands 4 Boobs!  An event sponsored by Sinking Ink Tattoos and Johnny G's Bar to help fund a little breast cancer research.  Be sure to check out Divided/Bye's FaceBook page for updates and details.

Okay, I know this post is far and away from the usual subjects I cover on this blog, those of horror and writing, or the more often combined subject of horrible writing.  So now it's time to get on track as I turn my attention back to that place I mentioned at the very beginning of this post Literotica.

Now, according to its own press, and most Internet search engines, Literotica is the "number one erotic story submission site in the world".  And granted, I suppose when it comes to the volume of submissions they get they probably are, however, it takes more than a high volume of submissions to be considered the number one erotic story site.  In fact, as what I am about to discuss was skirted in another forum, I think perhaps that Kink~E Magazine owner Marabelle Blue put it best when she questioned, "They still even exist?"

Again, if you've followed me on my journey as a writer you know that Literotica was actually my first publication pit stop.  And again, if you read at least a couple of posts back, Egomania Still Runnin' Wild, Brother: How Michael C. Laney Became A "Liberated" Author, then you already know that when I say "pit stop" I mean that I had been writing for a very very long time before ever submitting to Literotica, and not that I was reading stories on Literotica and suddenly one day decided I was a writer and that I would send in stories there too.  I am sure that my experience is actually the same experience that many other actual writers have had, when, deciding to branch out into publication after years of being "dormant", dormant due to the fact that for years you were locked out of the exclusive club of established "published" writers because you were poor.  It hits them that the world has changed and the Internet has opened up new possibilities.  Admittedly, like the proverbial fool, I rushed in, when I saw there was the opportunity to be published and read online without the hassle of publishing houses, agents and a bazillion dollar bank account to feed them with.  I went in thinking I was joining a community of like minded people and peers, and oh what an uninformed fool I was indeed.

Now if my Egomania Still Runnin' Wild post was not enough to paint a picture of the independent writing scene in general, or the independent erotica writing scene in particular, then let me tell you that Literotica is a pretty good example of why you NEVER want to submit to an online story site.  I know many people will gripe and piss and moan over this and that content guideline or restriction, on this site vs. that site, and for the most part Literotica has fair guidelines, but in the end who gives a fuck, because Master Vyle's Number One reason as to why you should never submit a story to any website is your content should not be restricted within reason.  Now that may sound vague, but it isn't really.  My philosophy is that if it's been published in print before and considered legal, then it's good enough for ePublishing.  PERIOD!  And when the high lords of eBook publishing come down from their glass towers (i.e. they have some low level jabroni send me an e-mail) threatening to terminate my account with them if I do not remove "Book X" from their listings for violating their content guidelines I simply point to something, usually that print edition of Stephen King's It (which also so conveniently comes in an eBook edition on the same site) with its waaaaaaaay underage sewer gang bang, and underage male on male masturbation scenes in their print book listings, and they promptly shut the fuck up and send me another e-mail about five days later thanking me for assisting in their "investigation".  Guidelines are not a valid reason for avoiding submitting to an online story site.  The fact that you are indeed NOT joining a community of your peers, and the fact that you are NOT reaching the audience that you are hoping to reach IS.

Of course that is not to say that there are not some wonderful readers (and writers) on Literotica as well as other story submission sites.  There are, and in fact I have quite a few loyal fans who I gained through my association through Literotica in particular.  It was a learning experience.  I also can point out that I would not be where I am on my journey as a writer today without having joined Literotica.  However I also have to point out that I am on that part of the journey because one of my stories, Fungi, was plagiarized off of Literotica.

However, for the most part, Literotica was just the beginning of that negative experience that was being associated with that term "independent author".  Not only did it not take me very long to figure out that I was not among peers who would take a look at my work and offer constructive criticism, but I quickly found out that a majority of its readers were quite frankly the dregs of humanity, and often times it seemed to me that many of them existed for no other purpose than to read either cutting edge stories, or stories from genres or dealing with subjects they completely hated, for no other reason than to tear them apart.  (If you don't believe me just go to Literotica and look at their "Most Recent Comments" section.)  I quickly dubbed the site Il-Literotica, and Cat-Literotica, because either most of the stories were written so badly they made me want to do physical harm to myself (and these people actually rejected some of my stories over "punctuation issues"), or the readers were allowed to post comments that were such shit and get away with it that it was unbelievable.  In fact freedom of speech and expression is a hallmark and paramount on Literotica, at least in its comments and forums, including, but not limited to, outright racism.  Writers on Literotica, and their works, are fair game.  I'ma Prefessional Kommenter, Yep was rejected five times, the final time with a warning that I would be suspended if I ever submitted it again.  (Damn I should have sent it in a sixth time!)  I was told that it couldn't be posted because it would, "Cause too much discussion", and "Literotica is a place our readers like to come and relax and have a good time and not feel like they're being attacked."

Oh, so it was never meant to be a place for writers to come and relax and have a good time and not feel like they were being attacked?

I had not posted anything to Literotica since February of 2011, shortly after I published Heather's Journey: The Sound Of her MASTER'S VOICE as an eBook.  As I moved to focus more on eBook publishing I began to let those accounts kind of "die" where I could.  I'm pretty sure everyone knows the story of me and LushStories by now, so I won't bore you with that one.  Occasionally I would still get feedback from someone on Literotica, and I would always answer back (because I M Not Famous...LOL), to thank the readers for their feedback and kind words, and to let them know that I no longer posted stories there, and pretty much where to find me online to stay posted on what I was doing in the future.

Well, unlike most larger story sites Literotica does not give you a box or button so that you can just simply delete your account if you want to leave.  Nor does it address deleting your account or individual works in its FAQ's Section on their site.  When I decided to switch gears and no longer post stories online I was not all that worried with it, though several times in the past I had wanted that information.  I just figured I would leave things as they were, no fuss, no muss.

Yet, Literotica still became the bane of my existence.  Remember?  U R famous... LOL.  That still occasionally cropped up here and there.  I think one reason is due to the fact that, for some strange reason, a shit load of devout Christians read stories on Literotica and for some reason stories about cuckold couples and interracial sex bothers the Hell out of them.  The other is that I believe that 99% of the people who actually read stories on Literotica are from Fuknmyownsister, West Virginia.  It was all typical Il-Literotica dot Com bullshit until the day I got an e-mail from Amazon, who decided they wanted to have a debate with me about exactly what constituted an eBook, as I had several stories for sale on Amazon (for the whopping price of $0.99 which only nets me a $0.35 royalty mind you) which had been previously posted on Literotica, and I was being ordered to remove the works in question from Amazon for offering my "eBooks" for free elsewhere which violated my agreement with Amazon, or they were going to terminate my account.  Well, of course that didn't happen, but to give you the "Reader's Digest" condensed book version of what did happen I wrote Amazon a really "vyle" and nasty letter which basically talked down to them like they were a bunch of fuckin' morons who were on my payroll and not the other way around (which is true.)  In that letter I stated that the works in question were not only different versions of the stories in question (and they were, updated, upgraded and edited), but they were also NOT eBooks.  I further speculated that they had not issued a similar warning to Erika Leonard (E.L. James) or her publishing house, Random House UK, as a work titled Master Of The Universe, better known as Fifty Shades Of Grey, was readily available on several sites for free from one "snowqueensicedragon", followed by a long list of URLs as to where they cold find it.  The next afternoon Master Of The Universe was no longer available online, though I am still told you can find PDF copies of it everywhere.  Four days later Amazon sent me a letter to let me know my works would remain on Amazon and to thank me for assisting them with their investigation.


Okay, okay.  Of course I can't totally claim responsibility for eradication the existence of those last "copies" of Master Of The Universe which had been submitted to or were otherwise carried on various websites online.  However, it was an awesome coincidence, albeit an inconvenient one as I was doing my side by side comparison between it and Fifty Shades Of Grey at the time on one of those sites.  I'll get more into that GREY area of SnowJob IceDragon's little "Twilight" world in just a bit, but I will say from what I compared personally, when going along with those estimated figures that Master Of The Universe and Fifty Shades Of Grey were somewhere in the neighborhood of 87% the same content, 90% was due to name changes alone.

Now, on to that final straw.  The thing which made me do what I know so many have wondered, How can I do this?  Just how THE FUCK can I get my stories off of Literotica?  The thing that actually made me say, AWWWWW, Fuck this shit!  I'm done with dealing with Literotica and I'm going to get off of it!  What?  Oh what horrible thing, after two years of snide comments from inbreds, indifference from its administration, being plagiarized from its virtual pages and having threats levied at me by Mighty Amazon itself could finally make me say, "ENOUGH IS ENOUGH?"

Well, boys and girls, the answer is a letter.  A letter from, a fan.  Ooooooh.  Ahhhhhh. ~GASP~  YES!  That's right.  It was a letter from A FAN!

Here is the letter in its entirety.  Note: For comedic effect and to PROVE this came from someone who obviously reads regularly on Literotica I have not edited it.  Just as I did not edit Gina Kincade's e-mail which proved that 30 or so correspondence course completion certificates in Creative Writing from Conestoga College are not enough to teach someone the difference between THEN and THAN.


Being a BBW myself I love you bbw stories. I am sure you have gone millions of these letters... All that most of us want is someone to love and appreciate us.

anyhow... THANK YOU!!!
fill free to respond... or not either way I WILL be back to read more of your amazing stories.

Short, simple and to the point.  It's a fan/comment letter not unlike any other of dozens and dozens I am sure are written to writers on Literotica every day.  In fact on the surface it pretty much looks like nothing special to most people.  I, however, being that, I M NOT Famous..LOL, take a different view of letters like this.

You see when I was younger, and I am sure most everyone who I ever went to school with can vouch for me on this, I loved Garfield the Cat.  I was a huge Garfield fan, and I idolized his creator, Jim Davis.  My mother bought me the third collection of Garfield comic strips, Garfield At Large, and at the front of that book were step by step instructions on how to draw Garfield.  For many years drawing Garfield and his friends, as well as other Garfield inspired characters helped to fill an otherwise lonely and dreary existence.  I was, in fact, so noted for being able to draw the character that I was asked to write the final sixth grade school play at Bridger's Avenue Elementary School, Garfield Greets Spring, as well as designing the sets and playing it in.  (This was of course when you could do such things without the National Guard showing up to raid your sixth grade school play because you were infringing someones intellectual property rights.)

It was during the time that I was working on that school play that my mother was able to track down an address for Jim Davis, so as any good fan would, I wrote him a letter.  Within a matter of weeks I had a response, and you can only imagine my excitement.  Now Jim Davis was not the first "famous" person I had ever gotten a letter from, however, he was the first one I had gotten a letter from who I idolized.  I was overjoyed with this letter, and proud of it, and of course I just couldn't help myself, I wrote him a second letter to profusely thank him for his quick response to my letter.

You can only imagine my disappointment when a few weeks later my second letter from Jim Davis arrived and I opened it and read it only to find that the contents of the letter were exactly the same as the first.  In fact the only difference was that it came on a piece of Garfield stationery which had a different design than the first letter had been typed on.

Looking back I realize that I had written to Jim Davis at the height of Garfield's popularity in the mid-1980's.  I am sure at that time he must have been so inundated with fan mail from both adults and children from around the world it would have been impossible for him to even respond to a fraction of them personally.  Despite my disappointment I was never really mad with Jim Davis, and age and wisdom have dulled my disappointment with understanding.  However, from day one on Literotica when my first feedback e-mail came in those letters were the first thing I thought about, and I made the conscious decision then that as long as I was some little guy (which will more than likely be forever) that I would always personally respond to fan mail and let people know their comments and kind words were appreciated.

Therefore I did "fill free", as always, to respond to this fan, one Natalie Hill.  Below is my response e-mail in its entirety.

Thank you for your message. I am very glad that you have enjoyed my stories and always look forward to hearing from my readers. I just wanted to let you know that I no longer post stories online, having made the decision to publish them in eBook formats instead. Currently I have a few available, although several have been previously released on story sites, though I am currently working on several new works including the follow up to The Sound Of her MASTER'S VOICE. I have been sick with migraines since October and am finally getting back on track and back to my old self and am beginning to pick up on my writing again and getting back on track with that as well as blogging. For the moment the best way to keep up to date on what I have coming soon would be to find me on FaceBook under Michael C. Laney or on my House Of Master Vyle Blog. Thank you again, and I do hope to entertain you with even better stories in the future.
Be Well,
Michael C. Laney
I know this is fairly standard stuff, and admittedly not much has really been going on with me, so at times I am at a loss as to what to tell new fans other than were to go to find my most current information.  I hate sounding like an advertisement, so I've tried not to bog my responses down with a list of projects in the works or to say things like, "Yeah, I'm on Amazon and Barnes & Noble, go there to see what I got for sale."  I want to be personal enough so that a reader can relate to me the way they can the characters I've created who they like, and I felt that this reader obviously connected with my characters from her brief letter.
Well of course you would think that this should be the end.  I am actually quite used to it being the end.  There are lots of times I get one letter from someone who really liked a story or stories, I write them back, and there's never anything else, and I'm fine with that, because I have done what I have committed to do, and that is answer them personally.  If and when they write back again it is a different story.  As long as I can help it I do not want anyone to feel they're getting a form letter from me.  In fact it's thrilling for me when that second letter comes from the same fan.  It was the thrill I had when I went into my inbox and saw I had a message from Natalie Hill.
Yet when I opened and read that message, after looking it over and really comprehending what it was, that excitement turned into disappointment, the same disappointment I had felt when I had gotten that second letter from Jim Davis all those years ago.  After a few minutes that disappointment turned into abject rage.
You see the e-mail I was looking at, the bulk of it, was my own e-mail that is presented above.  Ms. Hill had forwarded it to one of her friends, and she had also (apparently without realizing it) sent me a copy.  Added above my response was this line:
this is from one of the authors on literotica... I really enjoyed reading his story and sent him a message and this was his reply to me. I honestly dont remember what all I said other than I liked his story
Well, Nat, if you're reading this, since one of the things I directed you to was this blog, what you said was, "fill free to respond...".
In hindsight, this is how I FILL FREE to respond today:  Natalie Hill, you FILL FREE to mosey on down to the local READIN' STO'E, down there in Bald Knob, Kentucky or Fuknmyownsister, West Virginnie, or where the hell ever you're from, buy your semi-literate, diddlin' yourself on Il-Literotica all day self a copy the College Edition of Webster's Dictionary and jam that bitch up your ass!  That's how I FEEL FREE to respond today.  How the hell dare you send off a copy of my e-mail to one of your friends like I'm some kind of creepy perv, or garden variety stalker?  You wrote me, to thank me, to say you appreciated my stories.  You told me to "fill free to respond", and I did, and that was the thanks I got for that?
I might do free eBooks.  I might do free eBook promotions.  And yeah, I know I'm one of those, never say never guys, however, I WILL NEVER, FUCKING EVER, submit a story to an online story submission site again for inbred white trash from Podunk Junction, Missouri to try and fathom, so if you're lucky enough to find any of those stories I left on those oddball random sites, ENJOY!
Yes, so YES, thanks to Natalie Hill that last straw broke the back of one exceptionally strong and stubborn camel.  I said, "That's it!  ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!"
I went into full "Research King"  mode, trying to come up with the answer that age old question:  How do I delete my stories from Literotica?  Well believe it or not the answer was actually buried on Literotica's own forums.  I say the answer was buried in its forums because: A. The answers given there are always delivered by overbearing jackasses who act like they're super smart tech geeks that are above it all and smarter than everyone else (i.e. - They're overbearing jackasses who are super smart tech geeks who have absolutely no common sense, couldn't get laid in a morgue, and know nary a damn thing about writing), coupled with a string of the usual snide, crude and abusive comments from Cat-Literotica's usual inbred peanut gallery.  And B. The answers being given looked so stupid and simplistic that it seemed that there was no possible way that it could be the solution.
However it was the solution.  And if you want your stories off Literotica, right here and now, Master Vyle is going to give you that solution, without the hassle of dealing with Il-Literotica's pet snide tech geeks, or its butt fuck inbred bunch.
Now, to have a work removed from Literotica this is all you have to do, and it's so simple most of you will probably not believe it.  Basically it is the same procedure for updating or editing a story on Literotica.  If you've never done that before that information actually can be found in Literotica's FAQs.  Even without reading them it's a simple process.  You simply go into the submission area and submit your story by entering in the title of the story you want removed on the Title line followed by the word DELETE.  Like a regular submission, for whatever dumbass Literotica tech geek reason, you have to choose a category.  Then you go to the Text area and also type in nothing other than DELETE.  This done you submit it as the story you want deleted, and you are done.
Hard to believe?
Well, I didn't quite believe it myself.  In fact, I actually think Literotica and its tech geek jackasses want you to believe its more complicated than this so you won't even bother to attempt it.  However, I gave it a shot, and was rewarded several days later when my test story disappeared off of Literotica.  Once I saw that it really worked I knew I was in business.
Now, I won't lie to you.  It's a slow process, because after all, it's Cat-Literotica we're talking about.  Now their average turn around time on a story is three days on a good week.  Their average time on an edited story is about a week, and that holds true with stories to be deleted as well.  In fact, on average each work I submitted for deletion was moderated on average FORTY TIMES!  Now, again, you would think this would be an easy matter.  After all, you're talking a document with a title that actually contains one word, that favorite of Cybus Industries produced Cybermen, DELETE!  But, hell, it's Il-Literotica, and apparently that extends past its readership and up into admins as well.
Well, this was a fairly long process.  Including all the parts of her Master's Voice, which was an edited for content and chapter by chapter publication of Heather's Journey: The Sound Of her MASTER'S VOICE, I had over 140 works on Literotica, including various short stories, poems, articles and essays.  Because I had other things to work on I added a few works to the "delete" list every few days.  I guess you could say I was rubbing it in since Literotica only, apparently, will delete someones account outright, if the author goes to the site's administration and grovels and gives them what they deem "compelling reasons" to do so.  I am a Dominant, so you know that was not going to happen.
Well, a month and a half into the process I think that Literotica finally got the message.  With 20 poems left on the site their administration made the decision to delete them without me having to bother to go through "the process".  I remember logging into my account that day and going into submissions and seeing that the number of submissions was zero.  I kind of looked at the screen and blinked.  Then I opened the window to the next screen to double check, and indeed found that all of my remaining works had been deleted.  I sat for a minute, then I laughed to myself.  Then for a minute I considered sending a very nasty message to Literotica's admins demanding to know what had happened to the rest of my shit and stating that I didn't want any of that deleted, just to be a bitch.
Adieu, Literotica... Or as we say in Polk County, Florida, FUCKIN' C-YA!

Now, of course, on occasion, you can actually find some doozies out there in places other than story submission sites.  Such is the story of Jun Baran.  I think it's Jun Baran.  It could be Jun Baron.  Or Jan Buaran.  Or Jan Brady.  Or even possibly Candie Darlin.  Watashi no Candy desu?

This next little lulu falls under the category of "grindhouse" marketing.  If you're not familiar with that term it's basically where something which isn't that much of a deal, say Fifty Shades Of Grey, is hyped to the point that it outsells something that is a huge deal, say Harry Potter And The Search For The Philosopher's Stone.  This technique is often used to promote racy and/or ultra-gory movies, and it often fails, say in the instance of the Quentin Tatantino and Robert Rodriguez flop attempt to revitalize grindhouse movie marketing, Grindhouse.

Now, grindhouse marketing is something that should not be done with books, especially if it is done by an independent erotica author, unless the book is exceptional.  For the record I will freely admit that Fifty Shades Of Grey and its sequels are truly exceptional pieces of shit.  However, when you throw in someone, maybe perhaps someone even I will go out on a limb and admit may possibly be stupider than Erika Leonard, and that is a double espresso "especially" reason an independent erotica author should never make an attempt to grindhouse market their own book.

Yes, Erika, Jun Baran may be more retardeder than you.

I initially came across "Jun Baran" on a FaceBook post from "Candie Darlin", who I now believe, from having read the nuggets of fun she posts is either a sock account for Jun Baran or Baran's Siamese twin sister.  Now, the post itself was to announce that Sins Of Mother Superior by Jun "Bara" had been released on Amazon.  (You will note I put Bara in quotes, yet another different spelling of the author's last name.)  Darlin's post went on to state, "Efforts to suppress the book have failed. The book is still available even tho it has been placed on the List of Forbidden Texts by the Holy Office in Rome."

Well, of course you know I was intrigued.  Even "tho" it was apparently on a list of "forbidden text".  Due to the fact that I am from POLK COUNTY, FLORIDA, I have this uncanny ability to sniff out absolute BULLSHIT!  I nearly broke my fingers pulling up this book on Amazon.  Reading her bio it became clear that Baran had done more than just raise the ire of the Holy Office.  She had the attention of the Valican itself.  Yes!  That's right!  THE VALICAN!

Baran's biography, if it can be called that, attached to Sins Of Mother Superior is as follows:

Jun Baron is a princess of the lost Kingdom of Nan. She fled the valley when the Kingdom fell to the Visigoths and the forces of Modernity. One of her recent books was banned in Boston. It was also placed on the List of Proscribed Texts by the Holy Office of the Valican. The book was publically burned by the League of Decency. The President of the League, the Reverend Doctor Jimbo Stomper, has written a denunciation of the works of Princess Baran. "Rome fell because of moral decay - and the Visigoths. Books like those of Baran must be committted to eternal fire!" The Reverend Jose Mather has said of her book: "Muy Caliente! Estos infamosos!" Baran has been in hiding for the past three month. She is at an undisclosed location. She is currently writing a history of the Visigoths.

You will note that there are two spellings for the author's last name in her bio.  You will also note that her books were "publically" burned.  One of her recent books, one assumes this one, as it is her only "novel" length work, is banned in Boston.  JUST LIKE CHIC-FIL-A!  LMMFAO!

Now, of course, not one of the people denouncing this book actually exist.  The blurb on the origin of The Disco Exorcist is actually more believable.  Honestly the only name you could find any sort of match too would be the Reverend (because the Catholic Church is full of reverends) Jose Mather.  You can find many Jose Mathers, however you'll never find the one who delivered the quote given in Baran's bio.  Plus on that note, and even though I am from Florida I'm no expert in Spanish, however, I'm pretty sure that, "Muy Caliente!", translates to something along the lines of, "Pretty hot."

So, the "reverend" denouncing the book thought it was pretty hot?

Well, I suppose it could work.  After all, the implication is this is the Catholic Church she's talking about.

Of course the ignorant grindhouse misinformation isn't limited to Amazon and advertising in the Independent Erotica communities on FaceBook.  On her FaceBook page Ms. Darlin continues to spin Jun Brady Baran's tale of woe, stating that, "The Sins of Mother Superior by Jun Baran has been declared to be a threat to public safety in Alabama. Gov Jimbo Mather has denied the plea for communtation of Jun Baran. She is now serving a two year sentence for inciting a riot."

Well now, that's hilarious, especially when you consider the fact that Jimbo Mather is someone else who does not exist, unless she means Jim Mather, who is a member of the Scottish Parliament.  Robert J. Bentley is the Governor of Alabama, and he has been since January of 2011.  Of course you may be noticing at this point that the name Jimbo keeps coming up more often than it does in Polk County, Florida.

Of course this only gets better.  You see, not only does Jun Baran have one work denounced by the VALICAN with a poorly written bio on if for sale on Amazon, she actually has two, the other being The Grass Skirt.

Jun Baran's works.  So CONTROVERIAL they're denounced by the VALICAN.  THE VALICAN PEOPLE!
Here is a look at Baran's author bio from The Grass Skirt:

Jun Baran lives in Bangkok. Her father was born in Paris. Her work is controverial. Her last book was banned in Boston. I was also placed of the List of Proscribed texts by the Holy Office of the Vatican. Her books have been publically burned by the League of Decency. The President of the League Reverend Jimbo Stomper - has said: "Filth! Her books are salacous [sic] filth!" Father Jose Mather y Lopez has said: "Muy caliente! Infamoso!"

Granted it is not as long or as flashy as her bio for Sins Of Mother Superior, although you can see that Reverend Jose Mather has magically become Father Jose Mather y Lopez.  (En Energrish: Father Jose Mather "and" Lopez, Attorneys at LAW!)  Also her works are "controverial".

Now if Jun Baran/Candie Darlin are consistent about anything it seems to be their fetish for the names Jimbo and Mather, almost as if there were no other fictitious names that she could come up with.  Which would be enough to lead one to the conclusion that if she only uses a combination of the same two names for all of her characters, then her stories must be pretty fucking boring.  Well, of course you know I just had to take a look at a preview of the book.  Here is an example of what awaits the reader inside of Sins Of Mother Superior!

"I confess my sins, Holy Mother!", I said, my voice breaking.  She held out her hand and I humbly kissed her ring.

"Here kneel!"  I knelt before the holy woman.  The holy woman sat on the chair, her chin held high.  She composed her self, and smoothed her habit.  She reached down, and raised the black robes of her habit.  She spread her legs, then covered her face with the hem of her black habit.  "Expiate your sins, my son!" she commanded firmly.  Her secret place was shamelessly revealed, with its dark lips and frizzy hair.

"Mother Superior!  This is sinful," I was shocked at her lewd display.

"Silence!  You must consecrate my secret place and give me the kiss of peace!" Sister Serenity said sternly.

Okay!  Admit it!  When she said, "Silence!", you added, I KEEEEL YOU, in your head.  LMMFAO!

In all honesty, perhaps the only way to actually read a book as awful as Sins Of Mother Superior looks to be from what I have seen so far would be to cast the characters in your head and have every single one of them use a different inflection of Jeff Dunham's Achmed the Dead Terrorist voice.

Again, I'll freely admit that it's quite possible that Sins Of Mother Superior just might have the potential to make Fifty Shades Of Grey look like a mother fuckin' masterpiece.  At this moment, in this economy, I'm not quite prepared to part with any amount of money to find out, and believe me, both Baran's novel and short story, based on how awfully written her Amazon bios are, are waaaaaaay too overpriced, even if she were giving them away for free.  And in parting let me just add that on the back cover of the print edition of Sins Of Mother Superior her bio states that she "livesin" Thailand.

I feel compelled to add one final little nugget on the subject of Jun "Brady" Baran and Sins Of Mother Superior.  At the time of this post the novel actually a Three Star review tacked onto it on Amazon.  It was a long and rambling review, maybe somewhere in the neighborhood of only 13.999999999999998% as long as this blog post (and I'll let you do the math on that one), but I think you get the picture, it was a fairly long review.  Now this review seemed to have been written in an attempt to praise Baran's book and writing skills, and one can only assume that it was written by a friend, perhaps even one of her fellow authors at Good Samaritan Press, who perhaps didn't understand that Four Stars would have been better, or that Five would have been "the BESTEST".  I mean, after all, when the author bio is written by someone denounced by the VALICAN, and their works are CONRTOVERIAL enough to be (like Chic-fil-a) banned in Boston (where I might add they're tasteless enough to love John Cena), and her books (a bulk of which are in eBook format) have been PUBICALLY burned, and thinks a member of the Scottish Parliament is the Governor of the State of Alabama...

Yeah, I see how possibly (and hypothetically, mind you), that a "friend" of theirs might think a Three Star rating on Amazon was very good.


Of course in recent weeks there has been much talk of people buying, and in some cases even writing their own reviews.  I would never write a review of my own work, as it is highly unethical.  However, I will gladly accept payment for reviews.  I do charge a flat fee, and the schedule is as follows:  $50 for a Five Star review.  $40 for a Four Star review.  I write nothing less than a Four Star review, because quite frankly, I am that damn good.  Now, I must warn you that I only accept cash or money transfers.  American Only!  (Sorry, Patti Larsen and Jason Darrick.)  Also that money is non-refundable if you are not pleased with the Three Star to Negative Three Star rating I am actually going to give your book, short story or collection.

What?  Did you think I meant I would actually give out Four and Five Star reviews for a price?  Not at all.  The fee covers the quality of my review of your work, not the rating I'm going to give it.


"Be Jealous!" - Morrison and The Miz
Well, here it is!  It's the moment all those little "Bunker Bitches" have been waiting for.  I didn't save the best for last, but I saved it for next to last, that space devoted to me talking about that thing that I have and all the little 50 Shades fan-girls want, Fifty Shades Of American Women Who Love The Book And Live The Life a.k.a. Fifty Shades Magazine.  Well, before you all start raiding those emergency funds you set aside to cover any medical expenses not covered by Obama-Care so you can subscribe to the equivalent of Tiger Beat or Dynamite Magazine for the pre-menopausal woman who's never actually EVER had an orgasm with a man, let me be the atomic bomb blast that turns "twilight" into broad daylight.  You see, there's no such magazine.

Yes.  Yes, I am laughing my ass off as some of you, mainly due to the fact you consider the works of one Erika Leonard to be high art, are trying to fathom what that actually means.


Damn.  Just the duck puppet again and no crayons.  Okay, here goes...

You see, that copy of Fifty Shades Of American Women Blah Blah Blah Yaddah Yaddah Yaddah I'm holding is not Issue #1 in a continuing series of Fifty Shades Of American Women With No Real Self-Esteem And Would Run Screaming From A Real Dom If They Ever Really Met One.  In reality, what it is, is a copy of Tropix Medial Lab Special.  And it's actually Issue #5.  Now, Tropix Medial Lab is this semi-fly-by-night magazine publisher, that throws together a one shot fanzine every few months to cash in on whatever the latest craze happens to be.  For example future issues include Celebrity Astrology and Reality Stars, Where Are The Now? and of course A Tribute To TV's Greatest Judges.  (A collector's edition, obviously, because it has both Simon Cowell and Howard Stern on the cover!)  Fanzines like this have been around forever, and I'm actually using the term "fanzine" a little loosely here, as I have no evidence that anyone at Tropix Medial Lab is a hardcore 50 Shades Bunker Bitch at all.

Now, as a collector's item, depending on the number of issues printed, and as to whether or not a fanzine is official (and this one is not), prices can vary.  I, for instance, have a copy of Kiss Guitarist Magazine (yes, that KISS, the hottest band in the world), which has great sentimental value to me, but might, just might if I was very, very, very, very, very lucky, net me $0.25 on Pawn Stars. If you have a copy of "Fifty Shades Magazine", trust me, in a few  days I am going to help the potential resale value of this collectible, whatever it may be, go up, by destroying my copy.

Now, several websites have compared Fifty Shades "The Magazine", to Cosmopolitan on steroids, and let me tell you all, if that's the case, then at a whopping 82 pages, that would make long time WWE and WCW referee Charles Robinson the new Hollywood Hulk Hogan, BROTHER.  (And yes, I had to get one in for the EGOMANIACS, BROTHER.)  In fact even a low level manager at a local retail chain commented that it was, "...just like Cosmopolitan, but edgier, and pushing the boundaries even more further."  Wow!  Talk about product knowledge from someone at your local retail store with a token management position.  I'll bet that person can tell you exactly how many varieties of salad their deli carries and name every single variation of plout they carry in their produce department right off the top of their head.

For my own part I have to say the only things which I have actually recently read (other than the preview for Sins Of Mother Superior) that were funnier, more blow piss out my ass hilarious, than Fifty Shades "The Magazine" are Fifty Shades Of Gravy and Fifty Shades Of Stupid (each reviewed in posts below).  In a nutshell, and I'm pretty sure I don't really have to tell you this, it's painfully obvious that there are only two types of people who would ever buy Fifty Shades "The Magazine", hardcore Erika (E. L. snowqueensicedragon James) Leonard fans and people, like me, who delight in pointing out that hardcore Erika Leonard fans are the biggest group of "retardedest" fucking morons walking the face of the Earth and not contained within the boundaries of Polk County, Florida.

Note: A majority of the "articles" and "sources" within Fifty Shades "The Magazine" are uncredited or unlisted.  In other words, I'm fairly sure ALL the information in this un-Official fanzine is 100% CORRECT.


First off the reader is treated with the tale of a man's "meeting" with E. L. James (Erika Leonard), meaning, he was getting her autograph.  I actually believed this story because when he ask Leonard what she thinks of "...having started a sexual revolution in America"  her response is, "I don't."


Yes!  Yes, the reason I find it believable is due to the fact that "I don't", is Leonard's response to any question that involves her "thinking"... ABOUT ANYTHING!

The second little bit, coming of course from reliable source number two, that teaser on the cover that has "inner goddesses" twitching all over, the news about ~gasp~ BOOK FOUR!!!!!

Well, the source, someone else in line somewhere to get Leonard's autograph (again someone TOTALLY RELIABLE), got this information from Leonard's Vintage handler (who of course I am sure would get over FIFTY feet away from Leonard at a book signing).  Not only did this jabroni from Vintage reveal that there was going to be a BOOK FOUR (INNER GODDESSES REJOICE), and that sex happened within the first five pages (~WHEW~ MUCH BETTER THAN WAITING FIVE CHAPTERS), and... AND that it would be out in time for Christmas (JUST LIKE THAT FIFTY SHADES COLOGNE a.k.a. A USED TAMPON or USED MAXI-PAD), but... BUT she actually opened her laptop and showed it to her.

Oh, yes!  Like they really do that!


AnyWho... Back to the Inner Goddess FanGasm that is Fifty Shades "The Magazine" (and yes I keep referring to it as Fifty Shades "The Magazine" because it's funny, like saying Spaceballs "The Video Tape").  Well, if I haven't made your "Inner Goddess" sag and frown like the sag bags hanging on a majority of most women who "love the book and live the life", please read on, because I'm not quite done yet.


The real life Edward Cullen and Bella Swan, oh, I mean Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele, Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart, are pretty much dissed by Tropix Media Lab's compilers in their "Juicy Movie Details" section.  Pattinson doesn't even make the potential cast list, and Stewart showed up as the person they begged Hollywood NOT to cast as Anastasia Steele.  One can only imagine they were afraid she would show off her whisker biscuit a'la Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct.  By the way Sharon Stone did make the fan-girl cream dream cast list (as "Mrs. Robinson").

Other fun parts include things like beginner's tips on how to properly spank someone, something that Christian Grey could have found useful, if he gave a rat's ass about SSC.  (Sorry, Bunker Bitches, I know all you know about BDSM you learned from the Fifty Shades Books, and have no clue what SSC means.)  A section on cocktails inspired by the book (because we know Anastasia Steele holds her liquor so well).  A survey of men asking them which character from the books they wanted to date the most, and believe it or not Anastasia's slutty best friend Kate Kavanaugh won by a whopping 45.5% margin while Grey's sloppy seconds of Ana and "Mrs. Robinson" tied for last place with 9.1%.  Yes, that wowed me, because what hot blooded straight guy in his right mind doesn't want to go out on a date with a 23 year old hot chick who looks like Kristen Stewart, has zero self-esteem, is dumber than a brick and will give her virginity up on her first date EVER?  Oh, wait , I know what it was.  They were all afraid of her massive whisker biscuit.

There are a few longer pieces inside Fifty Shades "The Magazine" as well, however they mainly seem to come from the points of view of closet submissives and people somewhat disillusioned into trying BDSM Erika Leonard style.  The fanzine's one potential shred of credibility comes in the form of an interview with sex therapist Dr. Stephen Snyder that was conducted by Jeff Ashworth.  I'll say it's the closest it comes, because it becomes fairly apparent after doing a little research that Dr. Snyder is pretty much a 50 Shades fan-boy.  At least that was my take on Dr. Snyder, insomuch as it looks as if he wants to cash in on the 50 Shades craze by making it into his own little version of "Mars and Venus".  I guess like those quacking independent erotica authors with little talent and recognition there are some sex therapist who need to latch onto the fan-fic shit wave to have attention drawn to themselves too.  Of course he starts off by reminding people it's only a book and not to take it too seriously.  Then later on seems to talk about Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele as if they're concrete people to be analyzed (because sex therapist go sooooooo deep into analyzing their patients).  On Psychology Today's website an anonymous commenter quipped, "As for 50 shades -- The excerpts I read, read like the journal of a 15 year old fat girl.", in response to Snyder's article Fifty Shades For Men.  Snyder spent time answering this and other negative comments by redirecting them back to passages in his article, and telling people, they pretty much didn't get what he was talking about at all.

What Dr. Snyder Is Talking About = He Is Trying To Make Money From Taking About Fifty Shades Of Grey As If It's Relevant  (Or at least that was the impression I got.)

P.S. - If you want to see a sex therapist who might know something about BDSM other than what you learned from Fifty Shades Of Grey make an appointment with Dr. Gloria Brame.  Why?  Dr. Gloria Brame actually has a background in dealing with BDSM, BDSM Lifestyle relationships and fetishes, and I am sure she is infinitely more qualified to deal with the subject than Dr. Stephen Snyder and Erika Leonard combined.

Honestly, you do not actually have to buy Fifty Shades "The Magazine" to make fun of it.  All you have to do it read the cover.  For instance it tells you to: "Release Your Inner Goddess!  With 80 pages of jump-starting sex secrets."  And believe me I was looking hard for those 80 PAGES of jump-starting sex secrets contained within an 82  PAGE FANZINE.  Quite the feat when you consider that there are FIVE PAGES of full page ads alone, and somewhere in the neighborhood of TEN PAGES of full page photos.  It was just like looking for all those "hot and mind blowing sex scenes" in Fifty Shades Of Grey.


The cover also offers "50 Women 50 Stories".  Wow, like one from every state, but no one from D.C. or Puerto Rico.  Yes, it's fuckin' funny, because it's so difficult to track down 50 morons who absolutely love Fifty Shades Of Grey.  And of course since it's a "fanzine" they did not interview anyone who did not "love the book or live the life".  Better yet there is this teaser on the cover, "Reviewed: 20 Books even steamier than Shades!"  DUH!  Like that's really fuckin' hard!  Unless you're Jun Baran.

I could go on and on about this, I really could, but unfortunately all good thing must end eventually.  In closing on the subject of Fifty Shades "The Magazine" I want to leave you with a quote from one of those titular 50 Women.  The quote is from "Jane", a thitrysomething year old woman from Missouri.  (And yes, it's totally fuckin' funny to me that someone from the good old "Show Me" State would make a comment such as this.)  "I still get turned on looking at the cover."

Okay, "Jane", okay.  If looking at gray neck ties turns you on, then this one is just for you!

Yep.  There you go, "Jane".  A triple shot of out of style gray neck ties just for you!

As I get ready to wind this post down I have to announce that this will more than likely be my last post for the foreseeable future.  I know I have only recently begun posting again, however I feel it is more important to commit myself to the task of finishing my re-edit of Heather's Journey: The Sound Of her MASTER'S VOICE and preparing that novel for the relaunch and promotion it deserves.  I have said several times over the past year that I was committed to getting this done, and have unfortunately suffered various setbacks, the latest a case of some form of tendinitis or other which has more or less left me with the use of only eight fingers, which has made the task of writing this blog go from a three day task to a ten day one.

The Sound Of her MASTER'S VOICE was my first published novel, and many of you know by now that I rushed it into publication a little overzealously, excited at the prospect of at long last being in print and available somewhere other than on a story submission site.  I know, again, in a world where shit like Fifty Shades Of Grey and its ilk are considered high art, that most of the things that are actually wrong with the novel most people are going to either miss or not care about.  However, I am not most people, and I cannot just simply let it remain in the state that it is currently in forever.  I pride myself on doing what is right and correct by my stories and characters in a world full of "fell out of bed and decided they were authors" writers who do not.  I still hope to have this task done before the end of the year, however I still have at least two and a half read throughs to do as I am my own editor and it is a nearly 800 page manuscript.

I do keep mentioning the fact that I have to re-edit and relaunch this book, because I do make mistakes, and believe it or not, when I make them I actually do admit that I made them.  There are some people, on the other hand, who will never admit to making a mistake.  In fact there are those who get so big when they're called out on a mistake, and when I say mistake I mean they didn't do their homework on a fact, that they'll blow it off and say, "Well, oh, it was all in my own fiction Universe anyway.  Fiddle-dee-dee-dee."

Let me tell you a little story about an anarchism.  It's an anarchism which takes place in the Stephen King's 1994 novel Insomnia.  (Yes, I do realize that blowing off people by saying you were writing in your own fictional Universe is actually King's bag.  However...)  It was Insomnia that gave me that first glimpse that the "King" of modern horror, was starting to slip.  Now of course I know that not everyone rattles off a book and sends it right off to a publisher.  Sometimes they'll write a few when they're super productive, stick them in "the vault", and then pull one or two out when they're feeling lazy and give them to their publisher so they can relax.  (Oh, hey, I think King mentioned doing something similar to this in Bag Of Bones.)  But, anyway Insomnia was supposedly set in contemporary times, the late 80's or early 90's, yet during the climax of the novel, little Patrick Danville (who I might add it turns out becomes a pivotal character in the fictional Universe of which Stephen King is not only the God of, but also a character in as well... and I'm not just talking 30 odd cameos in every other film based on his works either if you're uninformed, I mean literally this clown had the balls and unabashed EGOMANIA to write himself in as a VERY IMPORTANT character in his own novels) is drawing a picture of the Roland the Gunslinger on the back of a coloring sheet at the local McDonald's which prominently features Mayor McCheese.

Mayor McCheese???!!!

Okay, yes, for me reading this actually had the impact that the infamous tampon yanking scene from Fifty Shades Of Grey has on any woman with good hygiene.  As soon as I read, "Mayor McCheese", I was like, Wait a minute.  This kid wouldn't be drawing on the back of a picture of Mayor McCheese.  The Kroft's sued McDonald's and won over him looking too much like H.R. Pufnstuf, and they hadn't used the character in years.  BOOM!  And from there I just could not enjoy the rest of the novel, despite the Dark Tower connection (which had I known what was coming would have foreshadowed even greater disappointment with King), and the fact that there was a cameo by Gage Creed's missing shoe.

Now believe it or not I have ridden this little "error" of fact checking for YEARS!  In fact I have pissed off many a hardcore Stephen King fan, and even Insomnia fans in particular, when they are discussing either him or the book, and their greatness, and then I decide to throw in a monkey wrench named Mayor McCheese.  It has elicited the response of, "Stupid!"  "Idiot!"  and my all time favorite, "Stephen King is brilliant.  MOTHER FUCKING BRILLIANT!  He knows what he's talking about.  Who gives a fuck about Mayor McCheese?"

Well, I do.  Because, like I told Chrystian Marrero, a young man who idolizes King, once you enter a known fact, a time frame, or even a known location whether they are used in a fictitious manner or not, and these elements are meant to enhance the story, the author loses the right and ability to simply say, "Oh, it's all in my made-up Universe."

See Chrystian.  I have absolutely no problem using that on "the master of horror and suspense known throughout the entire world as Stephen King - the modern day master of English literature" as well as using it on budding young authors.  You're in good company, my young friend.

Mayor McCheese and Mayor H.R. Pufnstuf, separated at lawsuit.

Yes, over the years I've had a grand time poking fun at the great Stephen King for letting Mayor McCheese slip past him, his editors and whatever fact checkers worked on Insomnia.  And in the past year it's actually come up more and more often whenever there's a Pufnstuf related post that pops up on FaceBook.  In fact the whole thing has been one of those little side tangent pieces of fodder that has just been waiting for the right story to come along so it can be referenced, so Kroft vs. McDonald's has always been in the vault as something for characters to potentially discuss in one of my stories.

Recently, however, there was a little pause in the fun.  While chatting on LiveStream the subject of Mayor McCheese just so happened to come up out of the blue, which lead to a discussion with someone who claimed that I was all wrong about the Kroft vs. McDonald's lawsuit.  She informed me that the Kroft's had been in with McDonald's from the beginning on the creation of the McDonald Land Characters, helped design and build them, and that the reason they sued McDonald's was that McDonald's did not abide by whatever deal they had made with the Krofts.

Well, being that this woman was a hardcore H.R. Pufnstuf fan and seemed to know her own stuff I didn't argue.  On occasion, again, I have been known to be wrong, and I do occasionally possess incorrect information.  I thanked her for the heads up and told her I would have to check into the subject further, and I did want to know, because this was something I had been thinking of writing about for years, and the idea of putting something out there and it turning out to be wrong (or worse maybe I have been just a wee bit too hard on old Steve for the past 18 years) was a little horrifying.

So first thing the next morning, within five minutes of being online, I was looking at the judgment in the case of Kroft vs. McDonald's.  Not only was the judgement recorded, but there was also a breakdown and timeline of the entire case.  I'm not going to bore you with all the details, instead I'll provide you with the link so you can see for yourself, but basically Sid and Marty Kroft NEVER had a deal with McDonald's.  McDonald's can still, of course, use "their" characters, however they have pretty much been in retirement, according to various websites, and according to my research, would have surely have been inactive during whatever time that Stephen King's Insomnia covered.

R.I.P. Mayor McCheese (Oh, NO!)

Follow this link to see the final judgement and court records in the case of Kroft vs. McDonald's:
Sid and Marty Kroft Entertainment vs. McDonald's Corporation

Now, of course you know I was as humble about my victory as circumstances would allow.  I sat in my chair and did the "In Your Face" Dance.  The current House Of Master Vyle "In Your Face" Dance is Gangnam Style.  If you're not familiar with PSY's Gangnam Style I have provided the video.

Well, it's quite possible that I covered it all and more with this blog post.  I have that feeling that many of you have wet faces, wet keyboards, and quite possibly wet underwear.  I said near the beginning of this post that I like to make people laugh, when I am making them laugh on my own terms.  That is, after all, why I am the creator of the humorous prostitution erotica genre.  It may be too late now, but House Of Master Vyle is not responsible for ruined keyboards, sticky monitors, soiled panties, or asthma attacks.

If you didn't appreciate my biting sense of humor, because it does have teeth, and they are sharp, fill free to comment.  Yes, U R famous...LOL is pretty much expected.

See you after vyle!

Master Vyle