I inherited great dusty boxes of family photos and slides following my mother's death, so I've been gradually sifting through, sorting and appraising ... the above photo was included, although I'm not sure of the identity of these children. It can't be my brother Greg and I -- we were never this awesome. Perhaps some German relatives I've never met? Whoever they are, I hope they are still exactly the same.

More photos to follow ... my grandfather was a very good amateur photographer during the post-WWII years, and there are many creative and/or adorable portraits of my mother's childhood in this collection which don't require family ties to appreciate.

For example ...

Haloween 1947, as captured by my grandfather, Frederick Storz, in Flint MI. The model is my mother, Diane Storz, age 4.

I know it's rough out there, but for those in the biz, here's a new freelance writing opportunity. Good luck, all.

Hey, no one died today, least not nobody I felt like Googling (or as we used to say in the 90s, "Jeevesing"). This is merely a notice to say I found a full-length copy of a film I've been curious about for some time, a no-budget French gorefest called Ogroff, The Mad Mutilator (click the link for a cogent explanation of facts via the Bleeding Skull fellas). It's a cheap amateur job at best, but makes for  truly subversive environmental stimulation ... maybe if you spoke French it would make more (or possibly less) sense.

It's available thanks to a YouTuber calling hisself GoodOldeDaze ... there's plenty of nuthin' up there, including the absolutely wonderful American Gothic (Yvonne DeCarlo, Rod Steiger and Michael Pollard as a murderous backwoods family and a good surprise ending, again, click the link if you need more encouragement). This one I can heartily recommend, that is, if you're still reading ... those with horror interests should sit down for it, things get very weird here.





As for all else, I feel refreshed by summer and ready to tackle my windmills again. Cover art for BSH-003 is at the printer, vinyl pressing plants have been alerted, website prepared for extreme overhaul, and the outside doesn't feel so outside anymore.

PS. Should have also mentioned Mausoleum, which I've been waiting to see since a juicy Fangoria puff piece back in 1983. Features two of my heroes, Marjoe Gortner and LaWanda Page in service to full-on absurdity. Thanks again, GoodOldeDaze, whoever you are.

Seems like I never post anymore unless someone dies, and usually someone I've never met. Whatever, dude ... Bob Welch's suicide inspired me to seek out some awkward-stage Fleetwood Mac, and some of it is beautiful. So here we are.