The first day of programming for the 2012 World Horror Convention wasn’t going to begin until 3:00 p.m. Thursday, so at 9:30 a.m., I threw myself out on the streets of Salt Lake City. I didn’t return to the hotel until 1:00 p.m., having spent 3-1/2 hours jumping on and off buses and street cars, getting lost as none of them took me quite where I wanted to go, walking around 4-1/2 miles, having lunch for breakfast, and hunting the elusive ukulele.

I was going through ukulele withdrawal, so I had this crazy idea that I’d visit a music store about three miles away, pick up one of their extremely cheap bottom-of-the-line ukes so I could continue to practice each day, then give it away to some kid before I flew home. But due to that getting-lost thing, I never made it there. So I abandoned my plans and instead headed to the first stop on my Man V. Food tour of the city—Bruges Waffles and Frites, where I began my day with their famed Machine Gun Sandwich, which is “a fresh baguette stuffed with: 2 merguez (lamb) sausages, fries, andalouse sauce.”

Yes, there are two spicy sausages buried somewhere under there! (Adam Richman did NOT let me down.)

From there, I headed off to Intermountain Guitar and Banjo (which was much easier to find than that other uke place) to check out their collection of vintage ukuleles, including this 1929 Gibson banjolele.

But I’d made the mistake of showing up on a day the uke specialist wasn’t there, so I didn’t get to lay my hands on any of them. I might sneak back Friday afternoon, though, when there’s a break in the horrific con festivities.

When I returned to the hotel at 1:00, I immediately left again with Jeff Strand, Lynne Hansen, Gabrielle Faust, Stephen Kling and Derek Clendening so they could experience Bruges (it’s that good), followed by much schmoozing in the halls until the 6:00 p.m. opening ceremonies … which you can watch below whether you were in Salt Lake City or not. (more…)

Those of you who come here for the comics and the science fiction and the old timey magazine and newspaper articles have probably been thinking lately, what’s all this with the ukulele? Well, I’ve fallen in love, so there’ll be uke neep now and then, but this will be the last for a bit, especially since I’m heading off to this year’s World Horror Convention later today, so expect chattering about the goings-on in Salt Lake City for the next week instead.

But one last ukulele video before I go, just to show how far my strumming has gotten in four months and a day of owning a ukulele. Still trying to figure out how to sing decently while strumming and fretting at the same time, but I’m sure that will come.

And now … no more ukulele videos until I post something on April 25 to see how far I’ve gotten in five months!

(But you’re not going to hold me to that, are you?)

It’s hard to believe that when I started with the ukulele four months ago I hadn’t heard of George Formby, but … I hadn’t. Because now that I’ve learned of him, I’ve fallen in love with his personality and ukulele skills, and in fact, I’m kind of addicted.

I only heard of him five weeks ago, which is hard to believe, considering how obsessed I’ve become with him since then. But it wasn’t until, right before my three-month uke anniversary, when I announced I would post a video of me playing and asked you to choose a song, that someone suggested I play “Leaning on a Lamp Post,” which led me to discover (via Wikipedia) that “between 1934 and 1945 Formby was the top comedian in British cinema,” and that in 1939 “he was Britain’s number-one film star of all genres.”

But he didn’t travel well, it seems, and he never caught in in the States. I quickly fell in love with him, though, thanks to what I found on YouTube, which included this recent documentary that explains his appeal and revealed that after his death in 1961, the George Formby Society began holding quarterly conventions in Blackpool.

And then, thanks to a Twitter search a few weeks ago, I discovered that one of those cons was going on that weekend, and I befriended a dedicated bunch of UK Formby fans, who’ve been giving me the kind of feedback I need to learn the uke the way I want to learn it, particularly since no one on this side of the pond, including my ukulele teacher, had any idea who Formby was.

And so, in the spirit of friendship, I threatened to post a video of me singing one of Formby’s songs to the Formby Facebook Fan Club, even though I’m in no way ready to sing them. See, the man used a bunch of special strumming techniques, like the split stroke and the triple, to create banjolele solos he’d plunk down in the middle of songs to wow audiences, and I have no idea how to do that yet. But these new friends seemed so convivial that yesterday I recorded myself “performing” the first Formby song I found on YouTube, “Why Don’t Women Like Me?” And after their response, I thought, oh, why not post it here? (more…)

I bought a ukulele exactly four months ago today—which you’d already know if you saw what I inflicted on the world when I hit my three-month ukulele anniversary—so I thought I should share another one of the songs I’m noodling around with. Today’s victim, “Side by Side,” which was sung far better by Ukulele Ike.

One unfortunate side effect I’ve noticed about playing the ukulele is that my singing seems to have deteriorated as a result. I never thought of it before, but playing an instrument while singing is sort of like singing while rubbing my stomach and patting my head—there’s not much brain left over to pay attention to what’s going on with my throat. I hope that will improve as the playing comes more naturally to me. (Please tell me it will improve!)

In any event, here it is, flubs and all!

As part of my four-month anniversary celebration, I also recorded my take on George Formby’s “Why Don’t Women Like Me?”—I’ve absolutely fallen in love with Formby, have joined the George Formby Society, and am considering attending a Formby convention in Blackpool—but I haven’t decided whether to share that with any save the new uke friends I’ve made in the UK.

We’ll see.

I thought I pretty much knew everything about comics. But thanks to The Superhero Book: The Ultimate Encyclopedia of Comic-Book Icons and Hollywood Heroes, I just learned a couple of things more. And in case you didn’t know these two facts either …

Charlton Comics was created by two guys who met in jail

Charlton was the home of such superheroes as Captain Atom (co-created by Steve Ditko years before he went on to co-create Spider-Man), The Question (where I got my first taste of Ditko’s Ayn Randian pontificating long before I ever encountered his Mr. A), and others.

But it all began because someone got arrested for copyright infringement:

In the early 1930s, Italian immigrant John Santangelo, a bricklayer, was encouraged by a girlfriend to produce a magazine that printed the lyrics to popular songs. His effort landed him behind bars for copyright infringement. In jail, he got a crash course in copyright law, courtesy of fellow inmate Edward Levy, a disbarred lawyer, and they joined forces upon their release to start a legitimate publishing house, Charlton.

Which basically means, no copyright infringement—no Watchmen!
(more…)

I used the Everyday iPhone app to snap a picture of myself each day from March 23, 2011-March 23, 2012. Can you perceive me getting a year closer to death, one day at a time?

I’ll be in Salt Lake City next weekend attending the World Horror Convention, which was last in that city in 2008.

As you can see from this photo of Gary Braunbeck, Lee Thomas, Nicholas Kaufmann, and me, things got UGLY back then!

But I’m not up for a Stoker this year, so there’ll be no need to wrassle other nominees. My pal Gene O’Neill, though, who’s up for three Stokers, had better watch out.

Aside from the awards banquet, where I’ll be a co-presenter for one of the categories, you’ll be able to find me on a Stephen King panel at 10:00 a.m. Friday (will any of you be awake?) along with Rocky Wood, Jason Brock, Blake Casselman, and Michael R. Collings. I’m sure that the average audience member will know as much about King as I do, but I’ll do my best.

Where else will you be able to find me? Well, if you’ve been following my con-going exploits, then you surely already know! (more…)

I ran across two intriguing quotes over the past couple of days that have absolutely nothing in common and have no right to be rubbing up against each other like this. But here they are anyway, and make of them what you will.

First, Philip Kennicott, reviewing (well, eviscerating) “The Art of Video Games” exhibition at the Smithsonian American Art Museum for the Washington Post, wrote:

What must a game do to become art? And when will the medium itself begin to look more like the art world than the entertainment industry?

I’d propose some of the following: We’ll know it’s art when old games are as interesting to people as new ones; when particular games play a role in changing the actual world, just as novels such as The Sorrows of Young Werther, Uncle Tom’s Cabin and The Jungle altered ideas of identity and politics; when the best games are richly self-referential to an accepted canon of classic games; and when the contemplation after playing a game is more pleasing than the game itself.

Which to me says more about the fact that the Post should have sent someone else to review the exhibition than it does about the exhibition itself. (more…)

Last night, Irene and I headed over to what was dubbed an Irish Fest of the Future, hosted by Tom Doyle and Beth Delany. Since we were asked to dress according to the theme, I adorned myself with little green men. As you can see in the photo below, in addition to green clothing and a brown derby, I wore Yoda, Braniac 5, and one of those cute aliens from Toy Story.

Also—you’ll note a certain green-haired wench on my arm … one who’s likely to smack me around for calling her a green-haired wench. (Thanks to Karen Wester Newton for the pic!)

The catalyst for the theme was that Tom’s a recent winner of the Writers of the Future competition, and will be heading to L.A. next month to take part in the awards ceremony. So last night, when he wasn’t leading us in singing “Fairytale of New York” and “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” he read the opening to his story.

St. Patrick’s Day may be over, but that’s no reason not join in the celebration now below! (more…)

Remember Richard Wilson? Some of you might, but alas, most probably don’t. Wilson won the Nebula Award for Best Novelette in 1968 for “Mother to the World” (which got him a Hugo nomination, too), and I published his “The Nineteenth Century Spaceship” in Last Wave back in 1984. He died in 1987, and is now mostly forgotten except to the cognoscenti.

John Pelan of Ramble House is publishing a series of books collecting his short stories—the first volume of which is now on sale, and he got in touch with me to see whether I still had copies of the magazine he could use to help in reprinting that latter story.

But I’d hung on to more than just that. I also had our correspondence regarding that and other submissions. So I sent John scans of a batch of letters, including the one below, which teases with information about a collection editor Terry Carr was considering, one that never came to pass. (Carr also died in 1987.)

Ah, the land of Might-Have-Been! That letter is filled with many things which never came to pass.

For more Wilson, keep up with what Ramble House‘s publishing plans.