GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #90: THE THIRD STRANGEHOUSE GENIUS (FOR REAL, THIS TIME)

A while back, I talked about the three geniuses I've met through my work with StrangeHouse Books. The first was K.M. Tepe. The second is Jesse Wheeler. For the third, though, I pulled this fuckery. I thought it was pretty funny, and I think everyone else thought so, too. I hope.


But I've kept my silence long enough. Fuck it. It's time to name the third genius and eliminate the mystery. The genius in question is . . .


Hold that thought. In all honesty, the identity of that third genius should surprise no one. It's very obvious who this person is. No one has asked me privately about who this person might be, mostly because they might have been nervous about the scenario I mentioned in that third GF piece. Either that, or maybe it was because everyone knew who I was talking about in the first place.


So without further ado, let's pull the mask off the third genius, whose name is . . .


I wonder if I got to anyone with that third piece. I wonder if anyone cares about it, or if anyone is even reading this. That third piece racked up a ton of readers, but the GF numbers have been down lately. Anyway, the third genius of SHB is . . . someone whose name I'm going to announce next week!


Just kidding. It's Kevin Strange, of course. He was the mastermind behind SHB. It not only took a lot of smarts, but also a ton of balls, to take on a project like that. Most of all, it took a lot of generosity. In this world of self-publishing, who the fuck would want to publish anyone else? I asked him that once, and here is his response.


Not only did he pull off the juggling act of being a publisher, he also wrote some great books. My favorite is probably VAMPIRE GUTS IN NUKE TOWN. Or maybe it's the uncut McHUMANS. Or perhaps THE LAST GIG ON PLANET EARTH? Or . . . I could go on forever. You get the idea. He's full of batshit crazy ideas about down-on-their-luck dudes who find themselves in situations where the odds are totally against them, yet they rise to the challenge. He's the champion of the underdog, and he stomps assholes flat, as evidenced in "Inside an Asshole" (found in MURDER STORIES FOR YOUR BRAIN PIECE, which I helped edit along with Sean Ferrari).


Today is his birthday. Help him celebrate by buying his books, which can be found here. You won't be disappointed. Happy birthday, Kevin Strange, you mad genius bastard, you!

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #24: THE THIRD STRANGEHOUSE GENIUS

I was in my freshman year of high school when I learned about the concept of the "senior prank." I heard some good stories, but my favorite was the one about how someone took three pigs and spray-painted a number on each one: 1, 2 and 4. Then, this sadistic motherfucker set these pigs loose on school grounds. The authorities found all three pigs, but they went batshit crazy trying to find #3, which didn't exist.


Hold that thought. I want to tell you about something else first.


Writers are all arrogant fucks. I include myself in that category. None of us would ever publicly say it, because we are also incredibly fragile people. It's very zen, in a way. We all think the world of ourselves when we're doing the things we do, but when we open ourselves up to criticism, we become these shy creatures. Hell, we start degrading our own work before someone else has a chance to.


I'm guilty of this, too. It pains me to say it, but it's true. We all think we're geniuses, but very few of us really are geniuses. In fact, I'd be willing to bet that 80% of us are trend-followers instead of trend-setters.


In my own false-modesty, I was about to say that I don't know where I fit into that equation. But . . . well, one of the things I pride myself on when it comes to GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS is off-the-cuff honesty. So, confession time: I really don't know where I fit when it comes to that percentage. I know I strive for that other 20%. If I think I'm goldbricking it, or if I'm telling savage lies, I try to back away from that work, like I recently did with my Vietnam slasher novel. But I don't really know for sure if I'm making it into that august category.


When I first started this thing, I fully intended to reveal the identity of the third genius I met through StrangeHouse Books. But then . . . an imp took me over, as an imp sometimes does. About 75% of my life, I think I'm a Trickster God. (There's that arrogance again.)


For one, if I named the person in question, I would have a dozen others angry at me for not saying their name. But that's not nearly as interesting as my other reason: because most SHB writers reading this will think I'm talking about them, even if I'm not. If I were among them, I'd be thinking it, too.


You see, it's a lot like that senior prank I mentioned earlier, except it seems to be the opposite. The third SHB genius really does exist, you see. But I think it's funnier to keep my mouth shut on who it is.


Fair warning: if you ask me in person who this third genius is, I'll say it's you. So . . . if you flaunt it later, you might run into someone else who says, well, you get the idea.


K.M. Tepe and Jesse Wheeler will know. But for everyone else? I'm OK with keeping them guessing . . .


Yes, I know I'm a fucker. Sorry. But these days, I have to get my laughs where I can find them. Rest assured, though, that there is a third. This person is a genius in a different way from Tepe and Wheeler, but this person is a genius nonetheless.


I can't help it. The feeling I get in my head and heart is the same kind of euphoric feeling I got from when I heard about the pigs.