this originally posted over at the now-dead Depraved Press back in February 2008. Had completely forgotten about it, but Jesse Lawrence, the “JL” here — you’ll also find him in various acknowledgements and thanks in my books — hadn’t forgot, still had it saved in email. However, all the formatting’s gone, with this paste-across, so, much as I hate it, no italics for the titles. As of now, anyway. But all the words are the same
Editor’s note: The following tape is one of many confiscated from the locker of LP Deal in the back of the Fool’s Hip Bowling Alley in the Dakota Territories by Federal Agents during their investigation into the murder of tourists in the region. The publisher acquired the tapes through legal means and now has made transcripts of them available to the public so that more can be understood of the incident in question and the man who claims not to have been involved at all, Stephen Graham Jones.
My third-ever self-interview, up now at Sea Minor.
First-ever self-interview? Above, under “FAQ.”
Second: in IRON HORSE LITERARY REVIEW a few issues ago.
Next: daily. Every time I find myself in “As seen on TV”-aisle of Walgreens, after which I’ll be asking myself “Did you REALLY think that was going to work like it did on the informercial?”
Answer: Yes, always. Still. Forever.
and not just because of the radiation, but because people keep talking about him, like here. Thanks to Mike Hance for the headsup.
Of course it’s way after the fact for me to be writing about Piranha 3D, but if I do it later then it’ll even be more after the fact, so . . .
Remember when Lou Diamond Phillips was in Bats, way back in 99 or so? An interview he did around then, he kind of smiled, said, yeah, he knew exactly the movie he’d signed on for here, but, too, thought his kids would get a kick out of it, and it looked like a romp of a time, so why not? Exactly. Or, I should say: “Exactly,” Elizabeth Shue said. But she’s not the only one having fun in Piranha 3D. There’s Richard Dreyfuss, bringing his Jaws cred in, hamming it up as the blood sacrifice every horror movie needs in order to prime the pumps. There’s Jerry O’Connell doing for Joe Francis what Eisenberg did to/for Zuckerberg. There’s Kelly Brook updating Kelly LeBrock. There’s Eli Roth cameoing it up (that’s a Zappa tribute, not the man himself). There’s Christopher Lloyd giving us all the mock-science a story like this can hold. And there’s a pair of final girls (one of them male, but properly chaste, sick of spring break, all that) at the center of it all, each so innocent and so meant for each other that if either of them didn’t make it through (rather miraculously) this teeth-blender alive, then Hollywood might just step off into the water itself, have to hide its face for shame.