Appalachian Galapagos PDF
Preview Appalachian Galapagos
APPALACHIAN GALAPAGOS By Weston Ochse & David Whitman Crossroad Press Digital Edition published by Crossroad Press Copyright 2011 - Weston Ochse & David Whitman Cover design by David Dodd Part of cover courtesy of: http://moon-willowstock.deviantart.com/ LICENSE NOTES: This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return the vendor of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Except for historical personages and events, all subject matter is a product of the imagination of the author. Any resemblances to living persons are unintentional and coincidental. ALSO FROM WESTON OCHSE, DAVID WHITMAN & CROSSROAD PRESS COLLECTIONS: Scary Rednecks & Other Inbred Horrors NOVELLA Butterfly Winter BUY DIRECT FROM CROSSROAD PRESS & SAVE Try any title from CROSSROAD PRESS. Use the Coupon Code FIRSTBOOK for a onetime 20% savings! We have a wide variety of eBook and Audiobook titles available. Find us at: http://store.crossroadpress.com Dedication To Banjo Boy and his one forever moment of fame. And to The Cabal for their friendship and inspiration. Foreword What the hell's wrong with the liberals these days? Is there no verity at all in their philosophies? Hypocrites, I say—all of 'em. Why? Because they're not bellyaching about the work of Weston Ochse and David Whitman in particular—and the Redneck Horror sub-genre in general. Don't worry. Though I'll freely admit that the following intro is, shall we say, Corona Light-inspired (correction, Corona Light NFL—that's No Fuckin' Lime), I won't drag you through some inebriated rant about modern conservative ideology. I just wanna know why folks like the American Civil Liberties Union, Tipper Gore, and the APCF (that's American Political Correctness Foundation) aren't burning effigies of the purveyors of Redneck Horror, especially Whitman and Ochse. I don't know about you, but I want to piss these libs off. Not because I have much of a problem with the notion of Political Correctness (I only have a problem when such notions bleed into other proactive principles that preach censorship and affront freedom of speech), no, my problem is simply the hypocrisy. Why don't the liberals walk it like they talk it? They invented this whole PC-thing, and by now it's insinuated itself quite solidly into our wonderful society. Good job. For instance, I don't think it's free speech to use the N-Word. Instead, it's ignorant. It's a demonstration of fuckin' incivility, and I'd like to think that the American culture is comprised of more than just a bunch of fuckin' morally bankrupt, indecorous, unsophisticated morons. No, that ain't us—at least I hope it's not. All right, I'm rambling, I'm off track. I'm not getting to the point. (This happens to me on occasion, especially with an abdominal vault full of Corona Light NFL; I just got back from a Free Beer party at my local watering hole. Ask me if I'm sober.) What I'm bitching about is the deviously deselective nature of overall PC Thought. From their long list of inclusions, they've excluded one particular group. Rednecks. Rednecks are people too, right? And they should be afforded the same level of respect that's granted to every other ethnic, regional, or cultural group. I mean...right? Why haven't the libs created a PC-friendly name for Rednecks? What is the cause of this rude and outrageously hypocritical oversight? Why, I ask you, isn't the name of this book APPALACHIAN GALAPAGOS: A Scary Educationally-Challenged Rural Indigenite Collection? How come the libs aren't having grand mal seizures over the way horror writers treat this genus of human being? How come they aren't insisting that guys like Ochse and Whitman come up with an appropriate label for 'necks? Like Americanus Whitetrashus, or Boondocks Endemics? Hmm? I'll tell you why? Because nobody gives a flying dump about respecting Rednecks, and—to be honest—neither do I. I suppose, given the tenor of my intro thus far, that that makes me a hypocrite, too. Fine. My point, ultimately? Thank GOD we still have Rednecks to stereotype. It's friggin' FUN. Jesus Christ, these people hump sheep and blow their noses in their hands. We need 'em. I need 'em. Without these hayseeds, these corn-holin' Petticoat Junction misfits, these veritable crackers, there'd be no one left to exploit. They deserve it anyway, don't they? After what those dirty sons of bitches did to Ned Beatty? You bet your overalls. All right, I'm getting sober now. Time for me to grow up and write something intelligent. Lately, some critics may insist that I've lost—or never possessed— such a capability, but I'll sure try. One reason why Ochse and Whitman are high on my list of favorite horror writers is the uniqueness they bring to the field. This collection exemplifies that uniqueness, and the most important example, I think, is this writing duo's diversity. What successful fiction must always do above all else—above its potential relativity, above its meaning—is entertain. Everything else is secondary, be the fiction aesthetic literature, or be it escapism. In GALAPAGOS, Whitman and Ochse go to great effort to meet this prerequisite. There's no sameness here—something that seems to make story collections wearisome. These guys engage the reader with a variety of styles, themes, and structures, a clever web through which their ability to entertain shines. You ain't gonna get bored. They tackle their concepts from numerous angles, sometimes with outrageous humor, sometimes with allegory or fable, sometimes with subtle psychological darkness or kick-your-ass-down-the-fuckin'-street-bust-your-chops horror. You want laughs? You got it. You want gross-out? Here's a bucket. You want subtext, rites of passage, spiritual overtones and philosophical symbology? Check. Check. And Check. There's even fundamental Darwinism. In one way or another, it's all here, and that's not just entertainment, that's exceptional entertainment. This is a very successful collection of fiction that's unlike anything else being done today, perhaps the most successful collection of the year. Take my word for it. Of course, this is kind of a continuation of their previous collection SCARY REDNECKS AND OTHER INBRED HORRORS, and you know what they say about tough acts to follow. It made me think of this great maxim they had when I was in the Army: "Never write a check with your mouth that you can't cash with your ass." Well, I'm happy to report that there are no bad checks in this batch. And I'm enthused—terribly enthused—by what this latest effort must portend for the future of these two writers, and that's the truth. Hmm. Truth. Well, I did lie about one thing. I wasn't really drunk when I wrote this intro. I was hungover. The Free Beer party was yesterday. Christ, and after all this talk of Rednecks, you know what I need right now? Forget the Corona Light NFL—I need a jug of 'shine and a bag of Red Man. —Edward Lee author of CITY INFERNAL and MONSTROSITY
The list of books you might like
