POST PRINTERS ROW BOOK SALE

 Since we got rained out on the second day of Printers Row, I still have stock of my own books. Here is what I have and what each one costs. And I'll tell you what, I'll give you a deal. Buy any three books? That's $30 in total, shipping included.

-THE LIFE AND TIMES OF HIERONYMUS ALOYSIS ZIEGE: 23 copies. $12 each. If you buy this book, you will also get a copy of SHIT POEMS NUMBER 2 for free! Limited to 30 copies! First come, first serve.

-TALES OF UNSPEAKABLE TASTE: 3 copies. $14 each.

-BLOOD: 5 copies. $12 each.

-POOR BASTARDS AND RICH FUCKS: 2 copies. $10 each.

-TALES OF QUESTIONABLE TASTE: 2 copies. $12.

-STRIP: 1 copy. $15.

-GONZO RISING: 1 copy. $12.

And what the hell? I have a bunch of copies of issues 1 and 3 of TABARD INN. I'll throw those in for free for any purchase. I'd put issue 2 in there, too, but I'm pretty sure I'm out of those.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #470: HORRIBLE THOUGHTS FROM MY HEAD #1,290: AUTHORS GONE WILD

 Before we begin tonight, yes, I'm high. I'm near the edge of not being able to write this.

So a while back I remember someone came up with a joke (maybe?) of doing a calendar of hot male bizarro authors. I'm disappointed that I was not invited. It's OK. I get it. I have a mirror. I look plain with my clothes on. Take 'em off? It's a horror show.

But this being the week of Mardi Gras, I couldn't help but think of Girls Gone Wild and how it might apply to authors. What if we really, really wanted those Mardi Gras bead necklaces? Would we flash our breasts to earn them?

Probably not. Who the fuck wants beads, anyway? Unless you can cash them in for prizes like getting arcade tickets for playing skeeball. Fuck, I loved that when I was a kid.

But it's a great marketing idea. Imagine me at Mardi Gras, getting into the groove, and when I'm offered beads (or some other excellent incentive, like I don't know, Amazon gift cards) I decide to reciprocate. Now imagine me lifting my shirt to expose my tits. Except instead of my tits you see twin copies of TALES OF UNSPEAKABLE TASTE? That's right, now you're excessively horny AND you want to buy my most recent book. It's a win-win.

Or I've just lost the plot. I can't tell for sure. Probably the latter.

Fuck. I've not been sleeping well. Goodnight, fuckers.

By the way, earlier tonight while I was planning this column I thought it would be a wonderfully horrible idea to post a shirtless picture of me with a couple of my books covering my breasts. I thought better of it. You're welcome.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #450: HORRIBLE THOUGHTS FROM MY HEAD #1,569,969

 Every once in a while my mind comes up with a horrible idea that I should never unleash into the world . . . and then I unleash it into the world, usually in the form of fiction. But there are some horrible thoughts that I think twice about. For example, "Butt Club." As I wrote that one, I thought about the book I was paying homage to/parodying/ripping off. So many people took that book and the subsequent movie the wrong way and actually started creating Fight Clubs. What if I inadvertently started a bunch of people creating Butt Clubs? I know I have nowhere near the reach of Chuck Palahniuk, but at the same time, he didn't either, not when Fight Club first came out.

(And I almost did start a Butt Club at a bizarro live reading. Thankfully everyone seemed to be in the joke. I had some doubts about a couple of people, but to the best of my knowledge, no one has created a Butt Club. Also, if you want to read that story, you can find it in TALES OF UNSPEAKABLE TASTE.)

So I thought of a terrorist attack that would absolutely work and change our way of life forever. And I'm not shy about sharing it here because Palahniuk wrote another book in which he described a terrorist act that would 100% work even if you knew all about it. If you haven't read Pygmy, give it a shot and you'll see. Brian K. Vaughan also came up with a great idea for one in The Private Eye, which is definitely worth the read. The terrorist attack in that one isn't a spoiler. It's background for the story he wanted to tell, so I'll describe it here. In his graphic novel someone released everyone's search history to the world so no one could possibly have a secret from anyone ever. Also, who can kink shame when everyone knows what everyone else is into? In the book everyone has just decided to declare a worldwide amnesty and to never discuss it ever again, but think about what would happen if someone did that in reality?

So my idea is, what would happen if someone hacked into everyone's social media and the texts on their phones and made public everyone's private messages. Do you want to know what someone really thinks of you? Who among your friends list are closet Nazis? Who is sending unsolicited dick pics or revenge porn or creep shots? What happens when the people you talk about behind their backs find out about those things you're saying? My policy is to never say something to someone I wouldn't say to their face, but I'm all too aware that I'm in the minority on that thought.

What happens when no one really likes anyone else, and no one can trust anyone?

It's not too far fetched that something like that could happen. Considering all the hacks you hear about, all the personal information stolen, all the purloined identities, all it takes is a hacker ruthless and heartless enough to do it.

Hopefully no one will do it. But you never know.

BOOKS IN STOCK

 What in the unholy fuck?! I have my own books in stock! This hasn't happened since I sold the last of them at the last Printers Row book fair, and that was back in summer of 2019. So yeah, I have my own books again. Not all of them. Some have sadly gone out of print. But now you can order directly from me, if your heart desires. I'll sign 'em however you want. Well, more or less. Hell, I'll sign 'em Dinah Shore if that'll make you happy. (With apologies to Jello Biafra on that one. And Dinah Shore, probably.) So here's what I have. $12 for one book. $10 each for two books. If you get three or more, it's still ten bucks a book, but I'll throw in some kind of surprise. It'll be worth it, I think. I hope. I just don't know what it is yet. Maybe a signed manuscript of a short story? I'll figure it out. You'll like it. So! Here's the list. Let me know what you want. First come, first serve. (Shipping is included in the prices.)

--POOR BASTARDS AND RICH FUCKS 2 copies

--AND JESUS CAME BACK 2 copies

--BLOOD 4 copies

--TALES OF UNSPEAKABLE TASTE 19 copies

And hey! I still have a few copies of SHIT POEMS around here somewhere. Buy ANYTHING directly from me, and I'll throw in a copy. Quantities are limited. Uh . . . fuck it. If you just want to flat out buy SHIT POEMS, I'll sell it for seven bucks. That might seem a bit steep for a 'zine of poetry about morning wood, the forever wipe, pissing with fellow creators and Nic Cage movies, but there are only 30 copies in the world.

You can reach me at editor@talesofquestionabletaste.com. Or you can PayPal me at roadmapofpain@yahoo.com. Be sure to include your address and how you'd like me to sign the books. As always, thank you for your attention, and I hope 2021 brings us a lot more fun and a lot less plague.

The Tales of Unspeakable Taste perk--finally revealed!

 

Did you buy a copy of my new book, Tales of Unspeakable Taste? Are you going to buy it? Are you on the fence? Maybe this neat little perk will help. The first 30 people to buy my book will get this handmade zine with my filthy poetry in it. There are only 30 copies, so first come, first serve. All you have to do is send me an image of your receipt and let me know where you want me to send it. These are already moving quickly, so if you want to get this, you should act fast. This will never be reprinted.

From the back:

Are you ready for Shit Poems? Then you've come to the right place. John Bruni, not known for his poetry at all, has put together this collection of gross, filthy, disgusting and hilarious verse. Don't worry. He doesn't do any of that fancy rhyming shit. Not usually, anyway. Be sure to have plenty of tissue on hand. Wait, that didn't come out right. Uh . . . I should clarify. I mean, John Bruni should clarify. This booklet is not for masturbation. Probably. I mean, you do you, right? Ah, I'm going off into the weeds. No one is really reading this anyway. And if you are . . . why? Put some gloves on and get into this lunacy. You know you want to.