Support Deerman at Patreon
Support Deerman by buying something on Amazon with this link. It adds nothing to your total cost, it just gives me a few cents of whatever you buy! Why not buy Invasion of the Weirdos?
Wednesday, September 6, 2017
Catch up with Deerman!
There have already been two chapters of Deerman. Catch up before chapter 3 drops for patrons on Thursday and for the whole damned world next Thursday!
Support Deerman at Patreon
Support Deerman by buying something on Amazon with this link. It adds nothing to your total cost, it just gives me a few cents of whatever you buy! Why not buy Invasion of the Weirdos?
Support Deerman at Patreon
Support Deerman by buying something on Amazon with this link. It adds nothing to your total cost, it just gives me a few cents of whatever you buy! Why not buy Invasion of the Weirdos?
Tuesday, September 5, 2017
Dangerous Minds
When we were kids, we really liked Coolio. Who didn't in 1995/1996? Gangsta's Paradise was the shit. Naturally, my brothers and I wanted the Dangerous Minds soundtrack.
We begged my dad to allow us to buy a "Parental Advisory" CD. Fuck you, Tipper Gore. My dad made us write an essay on why we should own it.
We put our heads together and wrote the best bullshit I've probably ever written in my life.
"The Dangerous Minds soundtrack is an important piece of art. It provides a window into the lives of people who have different lives. It is a good complement to a movie I have never seen about education and crime and poverty. I think you should let us buy this CD."
My dad relented.
We went to the Sam Goody at the Cerritos Towne Center and I went straight for the Rap section. There it was. Michelle Pfieffer being a Breatharian on the cover in a leather jacket and red lipstick. My mind, friends, was getting into dangerous territory.
Dad escorted us to the cash register where some thirty something year old nerd looked at my purchase then back at my dad and said, "You let your kids listen to this filth? They should be listening to Hootie and the Blowfish." I don't think my dad was embarrassed or anything because he said something like, "They wrote a very thought out essay about why it was a necessary purchase." Or maybe he said, "Fuck you, chump. Just take their money."
The mustachioed music gestapo rolled his eyes and allowed us to pay $19.88 for the soundtrack. That's what CDs cost back then. What a scam.
It wasn't long until my brothers and I did something to merit losing our Dangerous Minds privileges. It was a good thing that we backed up the CD to cassette tape because as punishment for whatever sin we committed, he made us return Dangerous Minds in exchange for Hootie and the Blowfish. My dad was a Stalinist for creative and funny punishments.
Lo and behold, the same rules nerd checked us out on the exchange. When I gave him the Hootie and the Blowfish CD to exchange for it, he tapped on the jewel case and said to us, "You see? This is real music."
Hootie and the Blowfish is so irrelevant that it's not even a punchline anymore. We never got that Dangerous Minds soundtrack back but my folks also didn't make us write essays for the shit we wanted. If we had the money for it, we were welcome to take the bus to the record store to get it on our own.
Don't forget to become a patron on Patreon!
Check out my chat with Trey Hudson, founder of Mad Shade!
We begged my dad to allow us to buy a "Parental Advisory" CD. Fuck you, Tipper Gore. My dad made us write an essay on why we should own it.
We put our heads together and wrote the best bullshit I've probably ever written in my life.
"The Dangerous Minds soundtrack is an important piece of art. It provides a window into the lives of people who have different lives. It is a good complement to a movie I have never seen about education and crime and poverty. I think you should let us buy this CD."
My dad relented.
We went to the Sam Goody at the Cerritos Towne Center and I went straight for the Rap section. There it was. Michelle Pfieffer being a Breatharian on the cover in a leather jacket and red lipstick. My mind, friends, was getting into dangerous territory.
Dad escorted us to the cash register where some thirty something year old nerd looked at my purchase then back at my dad and said, "You let your kids listen to this filth? They should be listening to Hootie and the Blowfish." I don't think my dad was embarrassed or anything because he said something like, "They wrote a very thought out essay about why it was a necessary purchase." Or maybe he said, "Fuck you, chump. Just take their money."
The mustachioed music gestapo rolled his eyes and allowed us to pay $19.88 for the soundtrack. That's what CDs cost back then. What a scam.
It wasn't long until my brothers and I did something to merit losing our Dangerous Minds privileges. It was a good thing that we backed up the CD to cassette tape because as punishment for whatever sin we committed, he made us return Dangerous Minds in exchange for Hootie and the Blowfish. My dad was a Stalinist for creative and funny punishments.
Lo and behold, the same rules nerd checked us out on the exchange. When I gave him the Hootie and the Blowfish CD to exchange for it, he tapped on the jewel case and said to us, "You see? This is real music."
Hootie and the Blowfish is so irrelevant that it's not even a punchline anymore. We never got that Dangerous Minds soundtrack back but my folks also didn't make us write essays for the shit we wanted. If we had the money for it, we were welcome to take the bus to the record store to get it on our own.
Don't forget to become a patron on Patreon!
Check out my chat with Trey Hudson, founder of Mad Shade!
Sunday, August 27, 2017
My dog is named Comrade
My dog is named Comrade and people always want to say Conrad.
My pal, Derrick, said, "Oh, like Joseph?"
I answered, "Totally," because I heard Josef. As in Grandpa Joe. Man of Steel. Stalin, Comrade the Ultimate.
It was only when I got up my car that I realized he meant Joseph Conrad.
Comrade is an asshole. A total bitch. She runs around barking at nothing about the virtues of destroying all property and I have to answer, "cut it out unless you want to go back into your crate," accidentally validating all of her high falutin ideals about whatever the fuck it is dog commies believe in.
She'll telegraph she wants to take a shit and I'll get up and take her out only to spend 20 minutes in the rain chasing her around as she barks at the ghosts of whatever Texas battle was fought here. She's fast. Take away the 's' and you have a good adjective for me.
It's probably good exercise chasing around this dog.
When she sees people she gets wild and excited and pees on their feet. There's no good way to say sorry for this to a stranger except to walk away and refuse to clean it up.
I've never had a pet before. Comrade is my first pet. I demanded it be a puppy or else I'd never love it. It's not that I thought dogs were disgusting before; I appreciate that they exist, it's just that I've never connected with an animal.
Puppies are cute. It's undeniable. I could love a puppy. And it'd grow into a dog so gradually that I wouldn't notice and I'd still love it as a puppy.
People who own dogs know this is some dumb ass logic. It's been hard to train a puppy. They were right. It's hard to understand a puppy. It's harder when it's teething. I'd have my hands full, they said.
They were right.
But I was right, too.
Because Comrade has pissed on my floor, shat on my floor, torn apart my pocket notebook, bit my fingers, scratched my legs, woken me up in the middle of the night, ruined our garden, and done any number of idiotic shit.
But I love that damn dog.
Go catch up with Deerman.
My pal, Derrick, said, "Oh, like Joseph?"
I answered, "Totally," because I heard Josef. As in Grandpa Joe. Man of Steel. Stalin, Comrade the Ultimate.
It was only when I got up my car that I realized he meant Joseph Conrad.
Comrade is an asshole. A total bitch. She runs around barking at nothing about the virtues of destroying all property and I have to answer, "cut it out unless you want to go back into your crate," accidentally validating all of her high falutin ideals about whatever the fuck it is dog commies believe in.
She'll telegraph she wants to take a shit and I'll get up and take her out only to spend 20 minutes in the rain chasing her around as she barks at the ghosts of whatever Texas battle was fought here. She's fast. Take away the 's' and you have a good adjective for me.
It's probably good exercise chasing around this dog.
When she sees people she gets wild and excited and pees on their feet. There's no good way to say sorry for this to a stranger except to walk away and refuse to clean it up.
I've never had a pet before. Comrade is my first pet. I demanded it be a puppy or else I'd never love it. It's not that I thought dogs were disgusting before; I appreciate that they exist, it's just that I've never connected with an animal.
Puppies are cute. It's undeniable. I could love a puppy. And it'd grow into a dog so gradually that I wouldn't notice and I'd still love it as a puppy.
People who own dogs know this is some dumb ass logic. It's been hard to train a puppy. They were right. It's hard to understand a puppy. It's harder when it's teething. I'd have my hands full, they said.
They were right.
But I was right, too.
Because Comrade has pissed on my floor, shat on my floor, torn apart my pocket notebook, bit my fingers, scratched my legs, woken me up in the middle of the night, ruined our garden, and done any number of idiotic shit.
But I love that damn dog.
Go catch up with Deerman.
Sunday, August 20, 2017
Deerman, Episode 2 is live!
Hey, y'all!
Deerman, episode 2 is now live. I wanted to do this thing monthly but I have decided that the best course is to publish episodes at least twice a month.
I can't thank Zug Goodina enough for making the artwork for this episode of Deerman. You may have seen his work on Party World Rasslin' things. That's where I originally encountered his art and I'm stoked that he agreed to do something for Deerman. He takes commissions and can be reached through his facebook.
Deerman is available on podbean, youtube, iTunes, Google Play, and soon to be on Stitcher. We're trying to take over the world here.
Deerman is going to be as long as it needs to be but I am also writing another novel that will be released "traditionally." Everything is a little screwy right now when it comes to our lives and creating and publishing and eating. We're all just trying to figure out what works. After Deerman is done, I plan on continuing the idea of serialized novellas/novels via podcast.
Anyways, enjoy some bit of Deerman! Subscribe! Share! Like! Yadda!
Friday, August 4, 2017
I almost burned my house down making cold brew
It's true.
I may be the only person alive who has almost burned down their house while making cold brew. I'm taking my coffee game to the next level, nerds.
It's simple. I was using a criminally overpriced coffee sock and I needed to clean it. I put it in a pot of water to boil. Then I remembered that my life is worth much more than watching some fucking pot of water waiting for it to boil. The old adage says, "A watched pot never boils," so I put on my sweet gaming headphones and played a few rounds of Call of Duty before I heard the fire alarm go off and the scent of burning human intelligence in the kitchen.
"OH FUCK DUDE!" I yelled to my compatriot who was probably not listening to me.
I ran to the kitchen in my boxer shorts, shirtless, and my socks. The fire was in the pot. There was no water in the pot. It had already evaporated.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit!"
I threw some water on the burned coffee sock, really regretting that I got the American flag design at that point, and the fire was gone.
Smoke filled the house. I opened every window. I grabbed a broom to help push the smoke out. I grabbed my cat to throw around to vent my frustrations.
I didn't make any cold brew for about a year after that.
Now, I have a new method.
HOW TO MAKE COLD BREW WITHOUT BURNING DOWN YOUR HOUSE OR SPENDING $10 ON A GLORIFIED PIECE OF CHEESE CLOTH
1. Grind the beans real coarse.
2. Dump the beans in your mason jar.
3. Fill the mason jar full of water.
4. Seal the cap.
5. Forget about it for a day.
6. Pour the liquid out into another mason jar with the help of a wire strainer.
7. Voila! You have cold brew without burning down your whole fucking house.
Hopefully this helped you get through another day of monotony and everyone screaming about politics and whatever, whatever. I've been thinking a lot lately about our collective mania. High-powered cold brew should help fuel it.
Oh, yeah! Deerman episode 1 is out! Check it out! Become a patron!
I may be the only person alive who has almost burned down their house while making cold brew. I'm taking my coffee game to the next level, nerds.
It's simple. I was using a criminally overpriced coffee sock and I needed to clean it. I put it in a pot of water to boil. Then I remembered that my life is worth much more than watching some fucking pot of water waiting for it to boil. The old adage says, "A watched pot never boils," so I put on my sweet gaming headphones and played a few rounds of Call of Duty before I heard the fire alarm go off and the scent of burning human intelligence in the kitchen.
"OH FUCK DUDE!" I yelled to my compatriot who was probably not listening to me.
I ran to the kitchen in my boxer shorts, shirtless, and my socks. The fire was in the pot. There was no water in the pot. It had already evaporated.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit!"
I threw some water on the burned coffee sock, really regretting that I got the American flag design at that point, and the fire was gone.
Smoke filled the house. I opened every window. I grabbed a broom to help push the smoke out. I grabbed my cat to throw around to vent my frustrations.
I didn't make any cold brew for about a year after that.
Now, I have a new method.
HOW TO MAKE COLD BREW WITHOUT BURNING DOWN YOUR HOUSE OR SPENDING $10 ON A GLORIFIED PIECE OF CHEESE CLOTH
1. Grind the beans real coarse.
2. Dump the beans in your mason jar.
3. Fill the mason jar full of water.
4. Seal the cap.
5. Forget about it for a day.
6. Pour the liquid out into another mason jar with the help of a wire strainer.
7. Voila! You have cold brew without burning down your whole fucking house.
Hopefully this helped you get through another day of monotony and everyone screaming about politics and whatever, whatever. I've been thinking a lot lately about our collective mania. High-powered cold brew should help fuel it.
Oh, yeah! Deerman episode 1 is out! Check it out! Become a patron!
Tuesday, August 1, 2017
New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest: Steve Bannon Is A Sexual Gymnast Edition!
Oh, God. Here we go again. This one might have a repeat but I am unsure because I'm too lazy to sift through my old posts. Look, I'm not Steve Bannon. I'm not sitting around trying to stuff a banana into the orange lodged up my ass, okay!?
They say they want to turn our town into a destination.
It's kind of weird that we gentrified all around this one guy's taco cart.
Now that I've killed your children in a display of my awesome power, I want you two to sift through my litter box again.
As a matter of fact, my dick DOES hurt.
Deerman, episode 1
Deerman is here, y'all. Check it out!
Click here for PodBean
Click here for YouTube
iTunes coming soon!
Thanks to Jack Arambula for creating the art for this episode.
Thanks to the Grassy Knoll for providing the theme song. Why not buy their album? http://amzn.to/2hjX96V
Help support the Deerman project by becoming a patron: http://www.patreon.com/ahilbert
Help support the Deerman project by buying something from Amazon. It adds nothing to your total, it just gives us a sweet, sweet monetary kickback to keep this shows' wheels greased. You can get my latest book, Invasion of the Weirdos! http://amzn.to/2w1vfA9
Follow me on twitter @AHILBERT3000
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