We're Simply "MAD" About Tonto's New Beverage

If Tonto learned one thing in college, it was that all my professors were only good for infusing skepticism into the blood of the civilized world. They made it disreputable to believe in the actual existence of anything that could not be tested in crucibles or demonstrated by critical reasoning. I, on the other hand, contended that through creative chemistry, and by transmutation of the elements of the baser metals; I could create an elixir that would render me immortal. It didn’t quite work out as I had planned, but with a little marketing, I am now promoting it as caffeine enhanced malt liquor on college campuses.

Santa Bring My Baby Back (To Me)

As you are well aware, Tonto has had many different jobs in his life. With all of my experience, I still come across situations where I can only scratch my head. I’m starting a new segment, that I want to call; “How in the Hell did this guy ever get hired?” Today—Texting Santa. Scenario: He somehow convinced the fat hillbilly manager of the Mall that he is actually Elvis in disguise and he’ll let him drive one of his Cadillac’s when the shift ends. He’ll even let him buy the drinks at the strip club.

Nintendo Says...

As we all know, tyranny of the mind is a condition where a force from outside overrides the internal voice and undermines trust in one’s own way of knowing. It enslaves people to something outside of themselves and becomes the arbiter of value and meaning in life. This is why Tonto went to the greatest lengths to uncover a plot by Wii to inculcate our children into devolving and accepting Nintendo as an artificial and external moral authority through the game of Simon Says in kindergarten classes across America. Simon Says today--New Super Mario Brothers tomorrow.

Update!!!

Tonto wants his fans to know that he has not given up on the flying hamster idea. In fact Spunky VII will be making his test flight debut soon in a prototype based on the original drawings of Leonardo Da Vinci.

Norwegian Death Folk

BJØRG MYRVOLD, former lead singer for the Norwegian Death Metal band Napalm Pestilence, has decide to try his hand at folk singing since his girlfriend, Dagmar, told him to get his act together or she would kick him out. His song list has been toned down and now includes hits such as, “I Had a Rooster and Bit Its Head Off” and “Mamma Don’t Allow No Necrophilia’s.” Dagmar is quoted as saying, “Old MacDonald Had an Aneurism,” is not exactly what I had in mind, but at least the makeup is gone and those idiot band mates aren’t freeloading from my fridge anymore.”

Whip It Good!

When Tonto met the devil at the crossroad, we made an interesting bargain indeed. In exchange for making me the world’s best pinochle player, I would introduce him to Florence Henderson, whom I knew quite well from my days as a gaffer for Redwood Productions, in association with Paramount Television.

What could have been famous lines, if they hadn’t ended up on the Cutting Room floor.

From The Maltese Falcon: “Okay, I admit it. I got hungry and cooked the damn bird. Want a drumstick?”

Tradition

Tonto would just like to remind folks on this auspicious holiday that the tradition of begging at the table was also started on the first Thanksgiving Feast.

Let me tell you... don't you look at those illustrations too long, because they'll come alive and they'll tell you stories.

When I modeled for the illustration of this book cover, I thought—why not make the best out of an unfortunate mishap. When Tonto had entered the parlor, I specifically stated that I wanted a tattoo of the word “Mom” on my left bicep. I guess you could say that it was partly my fault for falling asleep, but when I awoke, I was covered from head to toe with ink. Apparently Fat Eddie had made the mistake of combining coffee and antihistamines and got slightly carried away. Since tattoos are viewed in our society as a way of uniquely identifying a person’s self-expressions and personal beliefs, I suddenly realized I had somebody else’s story on my body. Slightly ill at ease, I broached the subject to Eddie of what was covering me now, and he said it was a tribute to the film The Breakfast Club. Upon reflection, I realized that if they don't tell a story that grabs you emotionally, then they're just there for decorations. And if there isn’t any emotional appeal, to my way of thinking, they aren’t real tattoos. Now I just say that it is a tribute to the film Fight Club, and put my shirt back on really quickly.

There She Is...

Tonto was pleased to be the judge of the Miss Barrow Competition this year. The winner was Frank Runs with Bears. Eskimo children are named after family members, often ones who have recently died. There are no boy’s names and girls names in Inuit culture, so it is common for a girl to take on the name of her grandfather. I was rather impressed with her caribou coat, trousers, stockings, and boots. The thing that I found “dead sexy,” and what put her over the top, was that she opted for the two garment evening wear. This is when the inner parka has the fur against the skin, and the outer one has the fur on the outside. Congratulations Frank!

And the Murderer Is...

In a scene from the movie Charlie Chan in the Mystery of the Transgendered Forest Fire Lookout, the famous detective says, "I will reveal the murderer in the morning, but first this is Christmas Eve and I need to assemble this Home Gym for number four son, which will certainly take all night since it includes an adjustable bench with leg entensions and curls and preacher curl, a serious durable squat cage, pull-down/pull-up and fly pulleys, and olympic bar and weight set. The worst part is that the instructions were stained with the victim’s blood."

Kraven Once Again Underestimates a Superhero's Resourcefulness

So, who do you think I run into, out in the middle of Wayne National Forrest, during the middle of my Bigfoot expedition? The once famous Kraven (otherwise known as Sergei), half-brother of Dmitri Smerdyakov, who most of you may recognize as the super villain, Chameleon. This has-been wants to prove once again that he is the greatest hunter in the world. I mean, this guy really likes to show off, so he typically disdains the use of guns or bow and arrows, preferring to take down large dangerous animals with his bare hands. So, I say, “What brings you to these parts Sergei?” And he goes all, “That’s Kraven the Hunter to you, Chief.” And then I’m like, “No you didn’t just Chief me, Gei. By the way, is that vodka, I smell on your breath? I thought you were in AA now, Gei.” And he goes all, “Ga, ga, ga…” And I say, “Got something in your throat, Bawana?”

Sabbatical

Tonto will be on a Bigfoot hunt this weekend. The Wayne National Forrest had the last sighting. I plan to lure him out with copies of By Night In Chile and Distant Star as bait.

Did Shakespeare Cave In to Editor, Or was He Hiding Something?

Othello—before the rewrite:

Oh tale so dark,
that creatures such as this should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their blood! that we should, with joy, pleasance, revel, and applause, transform ourselves into beasts!

Savage Detective

In a recent interview with Sam Barlow, who had a Bigfoot encounter in the Wayne National Forrest, I learned that I had in fact come across the very first instance where the creature had made a literary reference himself. Sam claims (and I believe him) that when he accidentally crossed paths with Bigfoot, he was reclined against a tree stump, looked despondent and reportedly sighed, “"This is my last communiqué from the planet of the monsters. Never again will I immerse myself in literature's bottomless cesspools. I will go back to writing my poems, such as they are, find a job to keep body and soul together, and make no attempt to be published." Not only was I amazed that he could talk, but was also incredulous that he would be quoting Roberto Bolaño.

You Can Have My Shinka, but Please Bring Back My Kishka

Sometimes Tonto finds himself contemplating some of life’s stickier questions. Not happy to leave things alone, I usually end up following them to their inevitable conclusions. This happened recently, when I solved the question of: Who stole the Kishka? Because I am known as a famous literary detective, I used these same skills which led to a culinary search in New York, where the illusive Kishka was found being served at Cafeteria in Chelsea.

America's Sweetheart

A special “shout out” to Officer Baron of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP). This is the anniversary of when this noble breed alerted the patrol of my buried cabin after the famous blizzard of ‘98. I have to admit that I was starting to suffer form a tinge of cabin fever, because when they dug me out I was convinced that my sleeping bag had been transformed into Ann Sothern.

ebook Trailer for The Hillbilly Vampire Chronicles

Ring Cycle Remix

Varg Folkestad, former lead singer for the Norwegian death metal band, Dark Throne of Gorgoroth, who had become one of Tonto’s new acquaintances, approached me not too long ago about a project he was working on. He wanted to compose the definitive Death Metal Opera about the Völsunga and Nibelungenlied Sagas, which might include a futuristic Thidrekssaga. Varg wondered if I might be interested in doing the libretto. Always up for a challenge, I said yes. I filled it with red-blooded, rip-roaring, gung-ho Gods beloved by the Vikings, as well as a copious amount of beautiful blonde VALKYRIES. What can I say—Tonto loves his Valyries. Anyway—I would like to share the lines I wrote from my favorite Aria in the drinking scene: “'Bjorn, when you whacked my head off with that double-headed axe – that was brilliant. I didn't see it coming at all. My blood hit the ceiling! Just wait till tomorrow though. I’m going to get you dude.' 'I'll drink to that! Here, barmaid, five hundred drinking horns of Kvas please. And a packet of pork cracklins.'"

No Life, No Future, Get It?

When I stepped on the stage to perform several of my new songs, Tonto’s camp director was not at all amused. Supposedly I was to serenade the little creeps with Kumbaya type music. But Tonto’s artistic ideals would not be compromised and I sang “Die little Bastards Die” and “Tarantulas in the Sleeping Bag Rag,” along with several Stooges covers. Needless to say, my stint as a camp counselor did not last long.

CLEAR!!!

Not one to pass up the fast buck that usually accompanies a new fad, Tonto is working on a new project (riding the coattails of the Flying Pig craze). Without giving too much away, let’s just say the concept involves flying and hamsters.

We Ain't Talking Frog Legs Here

This beautiful little creature became Tonto’s savior when I found myself in quite a dilemma. The circumstances were not bright, when my party started disappearing one by one, deep in the Peruvian Amazon. All alone, I used the knowledge imparted to me by my good Yagua friend (whose name is so hard to pronounce, I just call him “little Bubba”), to rustle up a batch of poison darts with several of these buggers boiled down to nice reduction. The munuñúmiy (savage enemy) were easy pickings, since Little Bubba and I used to shoot cigarettes out of each others mouths from a distance of a hundred feet or so, as practice, back in the good old days.

The Book

Tonto, for once, finds himself speechless. So take it away Mary—“The latter part of his tale had kindled anew in me the anger that had died away while he narrated his peaceful life among the cottagers, and as he said this I could no longer suppress the rage that burned within me.” From, Frankenstein.

Suffering Succotash

Tonto’s world record attempt to circumnavigate the globe came to an abrupt halt, over Walla Walla, when I discovered that my wife had filled my food cache with kumquats, garbanzos, guacamole, and succotash. I’m sorry, but there was no way Tonto was going to eat that stuff, when I had clearly indicated on my pre-flight list, to pack plenty of Bacon in a Can and Microwave Sliders, along with several boxes of Oreo Blizzard Crème Oreos, a few jars of Gherkins, and a handful of Zagnut Bars. I had to bail out of the Hot Air Balloon with my trusty parachute after making my horrifying discovery. Eventually I heard that it came down of its own volition, in front of the Ugly Corner Cafe, in Effingham, Illinois.

Eye in the Sky

Tonto doesn’t want to come across as a cheap skate or anything, but rather I would like to recount a story as a way to express my amazement at modern technology. I had dropped a dime on the pavement of the grocery store parking lot. My search was to no avail. But later I went onto Google Satellite Images, put in my coordinates, and sure enough after only a few clicks, I spotted that damn dime. After hitting “Print,” I returned to the store with my treasure map in hand, and wouldn’t you know it—there was that little rascal just where she thought she could hide. And into the change purse she went—scamp!

Look at the Grouse!

Tonto had to step in at the last second to prevent performance artist Philippe Miron from blinding one of his students, during an installation. I had to inform the Frenchman that the Howard brothers actually were actors and that the eye poke was not real. ‘Oui,” he replied. “But I on the other hand was thinking of the Dali film.” “Fake too, you idiot,” I said, and shook my head in amazement.

Alliance of Builders of Islamic Iran, My Ass. More Like Dippers of Coppenhagen and Drinkers of Tall Necks.

You know that phrase, “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter?” Well, Tonto can remember Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, from way back in those mullet days of pickup trucks, keg parties at the lake, and easy women. Where and why he jumped off the crazy train remains a mystery to me and all the boys at the garage, but when I knew him, that dude could party like George Jones.

Ha! He! Hoo! Ha! Che! Wa! Wa!

Tonto learned from his good buddy, Dennis Foo Li Leen, that the secret to walking on hot coals was not found in callused feet or nerves of steel, but rather at the bottom of a fifth of Old Rebel Yell. That was until the time poor Dennis was so drunk, he fell face first in the embers. They now call him Old Yeller.

Alfredo! Alfredo!

I hate to brag, but my record clearly exhibits that no prison can hold old Tonto. Not too long ago, I was doing time in the Ucciardone prison in Palermo, for a crime that the judge would only described as a form of loan sharking and protection. As far as I am concerned—it was frame job. Yet when I sang “De' miei bollenti spiriti,” from La Traviata at the yearly inmate talent show, the warden was so moved by my performance he simply handed me the keys to the front gate and said “Bella, Tonto siete i migliori.”

Refractive Index

Tonto was absolutely positive that his invisibility was a physical condition, and not something in my head. I certainly had not been hiding in a cave, living underground and stealing electricity from the Monopolated Light & Power Company and listening to Louis Armstrong records day and night. Perhaps this is why no body recognized me or had ever even heard of me, although in dark glasses, several other writers mistook me for someone named Rinehart. Things got a little dicey when I quickly ran out of money, and displayed my violent temper in the lounge. Worse still, the hotel security seemed to think that I was some kind of chemist because I had filled my room with messy chemicals, test tubes, beakers and the like. What the portable lab was for, I have no comment on advisement of my attorney. But by the end of the writer’s conference, I realized that I needed to stick to my guns: to honor my individual complexity and remain true to my own anonymity.

"Every Village Has One, Ladies and Gentlemen!"

Tonto’s old buddy, Reverend Stiggins, did not fare well after heckling the clowns in the touring circus, during their performance of the “Unicycle and Rubbish Can” routine. They did not appreciate that Nathaniel’s sense of humor was based on his unique perception of universal characteristics, like absurdity, incongruity, and emotional chaos. What these clowns had in mind, was more along the lines of the physiological, where the comedy involved exaggerated physical violence and a skit which exceeded the boundaries of common sense. The crowd went mad.

To Boldly Go Where No Man Has Gone Before

As an inquisitive youth, I found that my two revolutionary theories could possibly win me both our school’s Science Fair AND help me get to second base with Mary Lou Pinsky. First, there was my general equation for the Electrostatic Repulsion Force between two charged objects that are point sources or spherical in shape. This could help demonstrate that nuclear stability exists when the nucleus has the proper proportion of neutrons to protons. And second, was that if I made an impression on Mary Lou by demonstrating a unique skill, talent or something difficult to do, she would know that I exist. As for actually reaching second base, I’m saving that for my biography.

Fear and Apprehension on the Part of a Wild Animal, Once Removed, Can Lead to a Total Disregard of any Being they Don't Respect.

Training toy poodles proved to be a far greater challenge than Tonto had signed up for. At first, I just assumed them to be cuddly little cutie pies, but quickly they displayed their truer instincts—those of the vicious beast. Since I had no fondness for bleeding and open wounds, I had to develop sufficient trust for them to approach me. These poodles were certainly viewing me as food (trust me, I could tell). I then took the tact of offering emotional enrichment, to gain their trust. It seemed to do the trick, at least for awhile, until they started to become upset, agitated, and anxious. The attack was not a pretty picture, but in retrospect the experience reinforced the feeling that I am alive and living, not just alive. There’s a big difference. Let’s just say I chalked this one up to experience-- no books or classrooms for this wild man.

Wovoka as the Christ

Tonto mistakenly thought that he had come upon a revival of the Ghost Dance, not too long ago when attending a Grateful Dead concert. Being truly inspired that I had discovered a sect who believed that a great new Indian Messiah had come to liberate them from the scourge of white people, I wished them well for the apocalypse they were summoning, during which time the earth would be destroyed, only to be recreated with their tribe as the inheritors of the new earth. I was certain of my anthropological find, because these dancers seemed to be engaged in the ceremonial cleansing, which was a form of meditation and prayer, which included chanting, and most importantly, dancing the Ghost Dance. I am sure that you can understand my confusion, when they stopped their dance and said to me, “Dude, you the fuzz or what?” All I could say back was, “Mellow Out. Hey, is that China Cat Sunflower?”

Thar She Blows

“A noble craft, but somehow a most melancholy! All noble things are touched with that.” It was thoughts like this that plagued Ahab when he realized how hard it was to articulate where exactly the line between camaraderie and romance was drawn. The social and homoerotic bonds between men were never more confusing to him until the season had come to an end. After realizing his single-minded obsession with the white whale was only a metaphor or sexual symbol for something completely different than what he had thought, was he able to realize the valuable lesson that sanity can only consist of moderation and the relinquishing of guilt. This could not have been more poignant than when he came to blows with Ishmael over their mutual man crush for Queequeg.

POW! ZAP! KABAM!

The characteristics of gifted children often lead to social and emotional problems that can affect their emotional and social development. In many ways, gifted children have the same social and emotional needs other children have, but their needs are often intensified by the characteristics that make them gifted. They can be exceptionally sensitive, especially to the way they are treated, but also to the way others are treated. Volunteering to help others and learning how to fight crime is a good way for them to see that even one person can make a difference. Because of this, Batman and Robin, at a very early stage in their development, decided that action was the better answer than inaction. During my stint as a pre-school instructor, I was able to teach them that in order for them to avoid any existential depression, they needed to not only examine the “big questions” of our time — what it means to be human, freedom, civil rights, individual rights, racism, addiction, family, disability, civil liberties -- but to also be able to show little remorse over killing or maiming evil genius criminals.