Is there room in the Para/Crypto/Fortean world for a gun-toting, paranoid, bipolar, opinionated bastard? A lonely romantic in search of his lost soul? A knight, Samurai, gunslinger, born in the wrong century? A self-destructive, doom-driven survivor seeking redemption? A heavy drinking gonzo outlaw cryptozoologist whose ego is exceeded only by his libido?
No, there isn't. That's why I'm here...

27 May 2009

This Is Just TOO Cool!

I found this site (don't ask me how!) and I have to say they have some of the coolest stuff ever. Got a Vampire problem? Pop one of their Vampire Repellent garlic mints and rest easy! (in fact, I'm willing to bet nobody will bother you!) Like Zombies? How about a remote controlled shambler of your very own?
But I REALLY like the "Cryptozoological Playset".

All in one set, you get Nessie, El Chupacabra, Mothman, Bigfoot, and that damned Jersey Devil!
They've also got a nice Bigfoot statuette that's sure to "one-up" your neighbors yard gnomes!
Check 'em out!

17 May 2009

Sick Of This Weather

"This morning I shot six holes in my freezer
I think I got cabin fever
Somebody sound the alarm"- Jimmy Buffett, "Boat Drinks"

Okay, so it isn't 20 degrees, but for the past month and a half, we've been experiencing almost daily severe storms, hail, and flash floods. It's like some kind of plague. It's Springtime, dammit! I want to go outside without getting soaked to the skin! I'm sick and tired of dark skies 24/7! I'm going nuts stuck in the compound drinking rum, tequila, and caffeinated beverages! I want to shoot! I want to roam the woods or walk the streets!
Now that the Soviet Union has collapsed, who do I blame for this weather? Are "THEY" screwing around with HAARP or something? I'm going stir crazy!

Weirdness In The Workplace

For the past couple of weeks, a doorchime in the office where I work has been randomly going off when no one is present. Naturally, I've been trying to figure out what's causing it so I can fix it before it drives everybody bonkers and there's a murder-suicide spree.
My first thought was a Poltergeist. But there haven't been any recent deaths in the area that could be associated (however remotely) with the office. So I considered Doppelgangers. After carefully counting the number of false alarms and comparing the numbers to a count of actual traffic, well, it just didn't add up.
So, I finally just decided to take the "shotgun" approach. (no, I didn't whip out the .12 gauge!). I performed some cleansing techniques utilizing typical banes. Sage, vinegar, salt, garlic, iron..y'know, the usual stuff. Then I danced around the office naked (some of you armchair Freudians who think my passion for BIG guns, LONG blades, and LARGE, POWERFUL vehicles means anything shoulda been there, then you'd know that it's not compensation, it's more a matter of verification!)
After all this, I also adjusted the laser transmitter to line up more precisely with the reflector.
Problem solved!

Gonna See A Man About A Gun

I'll be picking up one-o-these tomorrow. I'm trading an AR and my Carbon-15 pistol for a MSAR STG556 bullpup. I like bullpups, but most of them aren't lefty-friendly. The MSAR can be switched to lefthanded ejection by swapping out the bolt. That way you don't get a face full of hot brass. Magazines are a bit pricey, but so is everything else "high-cap" or "assaulty-weapon" looking these days.
It's almost as handy and compact as the Carbon 15 pistol, plus it adds the benefit of a stock. I'm not a big fan of the .223 except in certain applications, so if I get rid of the pistol, I won't need the M4gery anymore anyway.

09 May 2009

This Just In!

Earlier tonight I realized I needed to make a supply run for pineapple juice. I didn't have enough on hand for the massive quantities of rum punch I intended to consume. So, I left the compound and drove into town. My timing could have been better, as I had to rush back to avoid getting caught in our nightly severe storm/flash flood. I drove the Big Weird Jeep at dangerously high speeds along twisty, rainslick roads, testing the limits of my tires' adhesion, as well as the Big Weird Jeep's traction control, QuadraDrive II system, and anti-roll technology, all the while blasting Warren Zevon over the stereo and firing my Glock 20 10mm through the sunroof as a demonstration of my contempt for the darkening skies. I could hear the ejecting brass rattling on the roof, bouncing off the roofrack and finally cascading over the rear of the vehicle.
I decided that while I was out, I may as well swing by the Post Office & check my mail. (I have a great connection at the PO, and anything addressed to "Gummer" or "Gummerfan", Trinity, AL, 35673 usually makes it to me). There was a large envelope in my PO box with no return address. (not an uncommon occurance, some people's desire for
anonymity rivals my own).
I made it down the mountain and managed to arrive back home before the regularly scheduled storm set in, and was able to relax a while.

I opened the envelope, and found a bunch of notes, letters, and general paranoid ravings (yeah, somebody speaks my language!) regarding Bigfoot, the Patterson film, and some of the world's super-wealthy elite. From Howard Hughes to the Council on Foreign Relations, Bill Clinton & James Carville, T. Boone Pickens, and a veritable "Who's Who" of the rich and powerful.
I'm still sorting through it all, and this could very well blow the lid off the whole Bigfoot mystery (and possibly other strange events) or it could be yet another hoax along the lines of the Allende letters or MJ-12 documents. I'll have to consult with my attorney before I comment or divulge any revelations, since the last thing I need is a major libel suit filed by some of the most influential people on the planet.To be honest, just having this material in my hands could very well make me a marked man. (not that I haven't been "marked" before and emerged unscathed, but it never gets any easier and my luck and reflexes are bound to let me down eventually!)
I wasn't even planning on posting this, but alcohol makes me both libidinous and loquatious, and since my wife is working tonight, the former is out of the question.
Later (I hope!),

Old Account of Alabama River Monster

While surfing the web last night (actually, it was this morning, but since I hadn't been to bed yet, it's still night to me), I hit upon this newspaper account of a giant river monster in Alabama. The armed (read: prepared) witnesses promptly dispatched the beast (Alabama seems to have a tradition of heavily armed monster hunters) and provided the description in the article.
Having imbibed multiple margaritas (I need to post my recipe sometime)I bookmarked the story so I could check it out again with a clear head. It's quite an interesting tale.
Alabama River Monster
So, what was it? A giant catfish? A relict aquatic dinosaur? Do Ogopogo & Champ have a Southern cousin? Was it just a tall tale given legimacy because "it was in the paper"?
One thing's for sure, as we say down here, "Well, it's dead, whatever it was!"
Now, on to Saturday night and rum punch!

08 May 2009

More East Alabama Weirdness...

Here's an article from MUFON about the East Alabama-West Georgia region known as the Troup-Heard Corridor. Sounds like another area of interest in what appears to be a weird region of the state. I'm researching some other tidbits regarding incidents in this region. Sounds like an ideal spot for aliens, the government, or who/whatever to do whatever it is that they do. Plus, the population appears to be spread out enough for "THEM" to avoid unpleasantness like the Flatwoods, WV or Hopkinsville, KY incidents.

Got Your Mojo Workin'?

"Everybody needs a little good luck charm
A little gris-gris keep you safe from harm.
Rub yours on me, and I'll rub mine on you.
Luckiest couple on the avenue"
-Jimmy Buffett- "Love and Luck"

While doing a little seaching on the net, I ran across this site. It's a wealth of information on African-American magic traditions (aka "Hoodoo"). There's tons of articles on mojo bags, charms and spells. Everything from history, tradition in Blues music, to instructions for how to make your very own mojo bag. The site also offers mojo bags for sale "fixed" for a variety of applications. Buying a pre-made bag rather than making your own may seem like a cop-out to some practicioners, but if you lack the time, space, and gardening skills to grow your own herbs and plants,(or if your spouse, roomate, partner doesn't want you ruining cookware cooking up batches of ingredients) it's rather convenient. Besides, the knowledge and ability to fix a mojo is what made the Hoodoo Doctor a valued member of the community. So, if you don't know a Nation Sack from a gris-gris, or don't comprehend the seriousness of the admonition to "keep yo' hands off a' my mojo", check it out.

Speaking of Mojo/Hoodoo, some of you are no doubt familiar with the tradition that holds that bluesman Robert Johnson went "Down to the Crossroads" and sold his soul to the Devil in order to gain his mastery of the guitar. In return, he spent the rest of his life with "A Hellhound on my Trail". Well, if you're an aspiring guitarist, here's a site that offers your very own vial of dirt from that very crossroads. There's no guarantee you'll become a legendary blues singer, but at least it doesn't cost you your soul.

03 May 2009

MILF and Misidentification

It was a dark and stormy night (no, REALLY, it was!). I got an email from a frightened female who had seen my blogsite sticker on the Big Weird Jeep and looked me up. Seems she and her daughter were being terrorized by some kind of "monster" lurking in the woods behind their home. The victim described the creature as huge, and looking like something out of "Predator". The creature occasionally emerged from the treeline and just "watched" them. This had been occuring over the past week or so.
So, I packed up some gear and made my way to the other side of the county.
The lady was a 40-ish divorcee living with her 22 year old daughter in a newly acquired home out in the country. The home had an enclosed sun room facing the woods. It also housed a tanning bed and hot tub. (at this point my inner voice said "Careful, Gummer, looks like you just walked into a man-trap"). The client related that they had seen the creature staring at them from the edge of woods one night while sitting in the hot tub. (and who could blame it, I thought to myself). The client was what the porn sites would call a "MILF". (not that I frequent porn sites, they depress me as I get the impression that I'm missing something and everybody in the world is engaging in uninhibited casual sex with total strangers except for me).
As I was surveilling the treeline through the pouring rain, the daughter yelled "There it is!". I looked in the direction she was pointing, and sure enough, there was SOMETHING there. Whatever it was, it was big, weird, and scary-looking. Meanwhile, the mother and daughter had stepped behind me, grabbing my shoulders and pressing their funbags into my shoulder blades.
"What do you think it is?" the MILF asked. "I don't know, I'll need a better look", I answered.
I took the 45-70 Marlin from the Jeep, loaded 4 cigar-sized cartridges into the magazine tube and grabbed my flashlight. (me being me, my "flashlight" is a 3 million candlepower rechargeable spotlight).
The monster was still just standing there, staring at the house (no doubt echoing my thoughts regarding the opportunity to see the MILF and daughter slip into the hot tub) and I made my way around the field to get a better angle of approach. As the rain finally abated, I was able to get a good broadside view of the hideous beast.
I made my way back to the house and informed the MILF and daughter of my findings.
"Do you know if anybody around here is missing a cow?" I asked.
"That's NO cow!" the daughter shot back. I replied, "Yes, yes it is. An UGLY cow, but a cow just the same."
A quick phone call verified that a local farmer had indeed been having trouble keeping one of his cows in the pasture.
After some expressions of relief, embarrassment, and gratitude, I was preparing to leave. The MILF offered to dry my wet clothes for me, but I politely declined. I did ask if it was okay to clean and oil my rain-soaked rifle before I left.
I sat at the kitchen table with a can of BreakFree and some paper towels. MILF & daughter decided to calm their nerves with a good soak. Despite the attractiveness of the offer, I declined an invitation to join them, concentrating on the task at hand and hoping I was seated far enough under the table to conceal the undeniable evidence of my baser nature.
I finally finished oiling the Marlin, and through sheer strength of will was able to walk to the door without stumbling, holding the rifle low in front of me and slightly stooping as I bade them goodbye. (I am, after all, a professional)
By now anyone who's bothered to read this is wondering just how the hell someone could mistake a domestic bovine for a monster from dimensions unknown. I returned to the area and took some pics of the cow, and with a little sloppy image manipulation, I've developed an image that resembles what we saw through the darkness and rain (shown along with the unretouched version)

Note that due to the darkness and the cow's "face-on" orientation, it appeared bipedal, and the black areas of the face blended in with the darkness, giving the impression of an oddly-shaped head)
In conclusion, I managed to escape almost certain temptation, MILF and Daughter can rest easier, and some poor cow was spared the ordeal of being penetrated from cranium to rectum by a 500 grain Full Metal Jacket bullet for committing the "crime" of being ugly. Good thing I didn't shoot first and investigate later. Cows ain't cheap!