Obligatory check-in post. Not a lot going on, really, but my not putting much on this site since December makes me look lazy and neglectful, and I am not at least one of those things. Mostly, my slacking off (I said ‘slacking’) is due to being too busy with writing words that will go into a storybook instead of words that will be housed in server bunkers or clouds or human battery farms or however they’re storing Internet data these days.
As for what I’m working on (because I know you’re so invested in it), I’ve put a June deadline on finishing it. It’s a book, which, point of interest, has nothing at all to do with the one that probably brought you to this site. You know, the one that you surrendered actual money earned at that job you hate so that you could read and might have even enjoyed. Yeah, it’s got nothing to do with that one (’cause striking while the iron’s hot is how you get third degree burns, kids). Instead, I’m currently wading twenty-two chapters deep in what will probably be twenty-eight or twenty-nine chapters of a hard boiled Prohibition-era detective story (yeah, I’ve posted about this before, but there’s no harm in repeating it–there is, however, shame. Lots of dirty, whore-like shame). There’s no sci-fi to this story in any way (so I guess fuck you, readers who likes that), but there’s more to premise and a higherness to the concept than just standard hard boiled boilerplate stuff (boilerplates – also hot).
Anyway, when that’s finished up, I’m going to see about getting it printed on Mother Earth-offending paper and sold in Mom & Pop store-killing retail chains; something I didn’t do with They Tell Me I’m The Bad Guy because I thought it might be something of a hard sell (and some Amazon reviewers agree). But once this hard boiled thing is all squared away, I’ll be working on the next installment of Donnie Guillory’s life, which I also expect to be the last. Yes, I know trilogies are what all the cool kids are doing these days, but I’m a firm believer in telling only as much story as you’ve legitimately got. If you keep pushing things too hard (that’s what she said) to where the good ideas are drying up and getting harder and harder to come by (that’s what she said), you’re just going to end up disappointing everybody and making a mess (. . . she said that, too). So when the TTMITBG sequel is done, I think I’ll have said all I have to say with Donnie (13% of that being the f-word). I’ve got other stories I want to get to before I die; not gonna spend all my time with him. That guy’s an asshole.
Hugs and Kisses,
R. D.

In politics, however, he found renewed purpose. Lincoln’s keen, affable mind and gift for clever story-telling were put to use in Congress, where the president not only garnered respect and admiration from colleagues, but a collection of nicknames like “The Rail-Splitter” for his early job splitting rails, “Uncle Abe” for his friendly demeanor, and “The Ancient One” for his worship of Y’golonac the Defiler. On his first bid for the White House, Lincoln won a landslide electoral victory. But while the newly-elected president had proponents in Washington and throughout the country, his election did provoke controversy in some corners. For example, it’s alleged by many modern historians that Lincoln, a married man, may have engaged in a homosexual relationship with friend Joshua Speed, and that the resulting gay panic was one of the major contributing factors to Southern Secession. Even Lincoln’s wife Mary Todd, perhaps also suffering from gay panic, drew criticism for spending what some felt was an excessive amount of the country’s money on renovations and improvements to the White House. When questioned on the matter by a reporter, the always sharp-tongued Lincoln replied, “Women be shopping.”

“Scientists,” the people who brought you such discoveries as Phlogistons and the planet Vulcan, have come up with their latest so-called boon to mankind: 
Seriously. Just what the fuck, man. If you’re like me, you’ve been preparing your family to survive underground through the December apocalypse the Mayans will bring upon us “With great revenge and furious anger” — Montezuma 3:16. Out of the blue, however, the apocalypse has come 6 months early in the form of Gulf Coast Zombie Armageddon 2012: Assignment Miami Beach. Those trick-ass Mayans got the jump on us, and nobody paid attention to George Romero’s Reefer Madness-style cautionary tales. As a result, we’ve been caught flat-footed, and I’m in full-on Doomsday Crisis Mode (different vest than prep mode) awaiting the inevitable collapse of society. 