Alternate Histories

Imagine, if you will, a world in which the Nazis won World War II.  Now Imagine a world in which some guy goes back in time and gives a crate of M-16s to Confederate soldiers fighting in the Civil War.  Imagine a world in which dinosaurs have laser guns and use them to shoot out of the sky the meteors that were to collide with the earth and render them extinct.  Now imagine Betsy Ross uploading an image of the first American flag to her Facebook.  And just for the heck of it, imagine Winston Churchill using a shake weight on the back of a triceratops while sending a text message to Mary, Queen of Scots.  Pretty tiring, huh?

Fortunately for you, you don't have to do all that imagining.  Leave it to the writers of Alternate History, a branch of science fiction that looks to the past rather than the future and speculates on what might have been.

Let's imagine that, for instance, the South really has won the Civil War.  Since I am not a writer of Alternate Histories, my powers of imagination are greatly limited.  But I am certain of one thing: the makers of Members Only jackets would no longer have to hide behind the thinly-veiled message communicated by their brand name.  If ever such a scenario were to take place (or had this scenario taken place--which it obviously didn't because, I mean, here we are one and a half centuries in the future and the fact that the South did not win the Civil war is pretty much set in one hundred and fifty years of pretty solid stone) their articles of clothing would undoubtedly look something like this:

No, the company would no longer have to hide their agenda behind their highly specialized brand of country club jargon.  So, the next time you think that the perfect compliment to your skinny jeans and serial killer eyeglasses would be Nehru collared with passants, and be pastel in color, you may want to think again.  If not for their ugly brand of exclusivity, then for their dopey and possibly ironic appeal as relics of a thankfully bygone era.

On second thought, just because they became a punchline after their first post-80s decline doesn't mean that they'll fall out of style again.  Fashion is never fickle, now is it?

A Sure Sign You're a Nerd

Every book you've ever read features a map on the first two pages.

Rat King

Here's an interesting bit of trivia sent to me by my sister.  Rat kings are said to arise when a large number of rats become entangled by the tail, oftentimes fused together by knots, blood, ice, dirt and excrement.

Well, what a way to elect a leader.  Leave it to the rats to be totally disgusting.  Since there are a large number of you and you are held together by ice, blood, and excrement, why don't we just crown you king?  You seem to have all the qualifications to be ruler, so, please, lead us.

Thank goodness we humans have a more sophisticated means of choosing our leaders.

Or do we?  Let's take careful measures to ensure that our bosses, religious, and political leaders are single persons, and not a number of people fused together by a mixture of ice, blood, and excrement.  It goes without saying that this will require a keen eye.

Don't let this picture fool you.  If you have recently invited a rat king to dinner, chances are that when it shows up, it will not be quite this adorable.

30lb Dog Cashes In on Paranormal Romance Craze

Trends are funny things, aren't they?  Not so!  They, if viewed with an entrepreneurial eye, are great opportunities to jump on board and make some real money.  Why is it that all the old historical romance novels with their Fabio-adorned covers are sitting on the shelves of bookstores.  I mean, the man is positively tearing the bodice off of the model on the cover.  Have people lost their interest in bodices being forcibly removed from the female frame?

Yes they have.  Today's romance reader has matured.  They want nothing to do with some moldy old bodice and bodies that, let's face it, have probably not had a good dunk in a tub full of soapy water for two or three fortnights. Today's romance reader would much rather see a leather vest torn off from the bodacious bod of a sexy vampiress by, I don't know, a werewolf or a creature from some black lagoon or something.  This new genre, often referred to as Paranormal Romance, is sweeping the country.

We here at 30lb Dog are excited to announce our contribution to this exciting genre with an exciting new series: Ghost Fuckers.  If there's one lesson we've learned from the popularity of Paranormal Romance, it's that sex with a ghost is hot, hot, hot.  As a special treat to readers of this blog, an excerpt from the first novel in the Ghost Fuckers series, The Haunting of Drusilla's Naughty Parts:

"Boo!" came the voice behind her, startling her in such a manner that caused her love muscle to become engorged with blood.  Drusilla turned to face the form that appeared behind her.  He was a magnificent sight, with long hair and a blousy shirt unbuttoned to the naval.  He was also glowing white and kind of see-through.

"Goodness," she said.  "You startled me.  What is your name and what business have you skulking about my chamber in the middle of the night?"

"My name is Umberto," said the figure, "and my business is entirely with you."

"The doors are locked.  How did you get inside?"

"I have no need of doors.  For you see, I am a ghost.  I died on a roller coaster when a bird struck my face."

"How horrible!"

"Yes.  And embarrassing.  But enough about that.  I have known your soul for a long time, Drusilla.  I've followed it.  I also like the way that leather vest squeezes your boobs."

"If only I had known you when you were alive," said Drusilla.

"There is no need for sadness.  Fortunately, I died when my beauty was at its peak."

"I'll say," she said, caressing his hairless, well-defined, and ultimately see-through pecks with her hand. After appreciating their firmness for a moment, she then traced a path down toward his trim waist. "Ooh, she cooed.  "I did not realize it were possible for a ghost to have six-pack abs."

"That feels very good, Drusilla," Umberto said in his heavy accent.  He tossed his head back, swaying his lustrous mane of spectral hair.  "Don't stop."

"I've got a confession to make, Umberto.  I've never done it with a ghost before.  Is it more like the movie The Entity or more like the movie Ghost?  Umberto?  Are you even listening to me?  And what's this on my wrist all of a sudden?  Ectoplasm?"

"That's not ectoplasm," Umberto purred.

Pretty hot, huh?  That is just a sample of what you can look forward to when the Ghost Fuckers series hits the shelves.  Look for it in fine bookstores everywhere.

The Red Ribbon

There was this guy and he fell in love with a beautiful woman.  On their first date she accented her outfit by wearing a saucy red ribbon around her neck.  Though it was the type of accessory that would earn one a black bar across the eyes in the back pages of Vogue, it came as no surprise to the man, since every time he had seen the woman she had been wearing the very same red ribbon.  It just must be her thing, he thought.  It is strange, but in no way does it detract from her beauty.

The woman wore the red ribbon around her neck on every subsequent date.  If it were not for her dazzling array of fashionable outfits, this crime of repetition may not have been forgivable.  Besides, the man was in love and that kept him somewhat blind to the ribbon.  It certainly did not stop him from asking the woman for her hand in marriage, which she gave joyously.

As the man had feared, the whiteness of the woman's wedding dress was indeed spoiled by that violent brushstroke of bright red that traversed the neck at the throat.  The ribbon had began to eat at the man.  She wore it all through the honeymoon, even during the act of love, which, the guy had to admit, was kind of hot.

When the couple had settled down into their new home the man, who could no longer suppress the urge to ask about the ribbon.  "Is it absolutely necessary to wear it all the time?" the man asked.

"Yes," the woman said, betraying an air of fear in her voice.  "Absolutely necessary."

"But why?"

"You see," said the woman.  "I went to this place called Personal Palette.  They informed me that I was a summer and that colors associated with summer would always be most flattering on me.  It is for that reason that I wear the red ribbon."

"Is there no other way to inject a splash of red into your wardrobe?  How about a shirt?  Or if you must wear something around your neck, how about a kerchief, or a foulard?  Or even a cravat.  I've seen some very nice cravats in the window of the shops downtown and I'm certain you could find one in red."

"Impossible," said the woman.  "It must be a red ribbon and only a red ribbon.  No other sort of neckwear will do."

"Then perhaps you could do me just one courtesy."

"What is that, my love?"

"Allow me to see you without the red ribbon, if only once."

 "No!" shrieked the woman.  "I can't allow you to do that."  Sobbing, she ran to the bedroom, the door of which she shut loudly behind her.  She did not emerge for hours.

That night as the couple lie in their bed, the man could not sleep.  He looked at his sleeping wife, peaceful and beautiful in the moonlight.  The red ribbon, tied in a bow at the back of the neck, beckoned him.  What harm could it do? the man thought.  What if I were to remove the ribbon, just once as she slept, so that I may gaze upon her beauty without it?  I will tie it back on while she sleeps and she will never be the wiser.

Gingerly the man reached over to his wife and took one end of the ribbon between his thumb and forefinger.  With a tug he untied the ribbon and her feet fell off!


Submitted by M. Night Shaymalan