Tag Archives: Danger Crumples

“We [don’t] rob banks.”

I have some news… it turns out that Pere and I are partners in art crime. Alleged art crime. We came, we parodied, CBS Studios and Disney/Lucasfilm let us know they have no sense of humor and enjoy censoring the artistic work of poor people and they were allowed to because only the rich get away with shit that’s protected. Only Pere-based works have been targeted at this time and I find it very annoying and irksome in a “Why just my ornery ladypig?” way. I have experienced much of the bullying and shaming for being a lady who isn’t a doormat, and a lady who likes things lots of other people don’t, and also at one point I was shamed for being confident about my opinions and I didn’t realize it till later when the person backstabbed me…so…these are all things that make me say Grrr. That said and throw pillows and hoodies no longer a possibility, I do have both paintings and also some posters and postcards. Saturday and Sunday I will be showing my works at the GeekCraft Expo in Madison. Come get your own piece of future criminalized art if you want.

Come get some. Peregrine’s in confrontation mode on her log platform pillow.


We’ll never do it again. Peregrine and I are totally done with our parody schemes. *wink*


Samurai Finny is really fast. Like so fast.


Finny and the Finnybeast. He so loves having his photo taken. Just always sits pleasantly still…

Pere and Horace, admiring themselves in my Danger Things parody works.


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Adventures by the pool of sadness

Art break!

I’ve been painting again, because I’m participating in the GeekCraft Expo in Madison on March 3-4, it’s at the Masonic Center and it’s free to get in. Free to get in! That’s unlike any of the other shows I’ve done…anyway, another show means new paintings had to be done and this year I’ve been expanding my selection of guinea pigs on TV with:

Look at these boys on their bikes. They are ready for an adventure in the upside-down. They’re even wearing jackets. Sensible.


My adventurous little trio of boars – Ozymandias, Danger Crumples, and Horace – got out of the graveyard and into the guinea pig version of Hawkins.

And then there’s Pere-Barb:

Sitting by the pool of sadness, just like every other girl who was super cool in high school. Eat your heart out, actual cool kids.

Peregrine channels her inner lovable loser feelings to be Barb just before everything went tits up for her. Poor Barb. Poor everyone who understood how she felt sitting by that pool, alone, sent away from her best friend who had a shot at being cool… I certainly can’t relate. *cough*

I will have postcards of both of these paintings and the actual paintings on display and technically priced at the GeekCraft Expo, which is on March 3-4 in Madison at the Masonic Center. I will also have more paintings and more postcards and posters and prints I made with my human hands (which will also be visible) at the show. I’m not bringing Peregrine, but, that’s because her true beauty is hard to witness in person. It’s very distracting. Horace too, he’s like, really cute in person.

Anyway, sorry about that bragging, but everyone can enjoy images of Pere and Horace (and Ozy and Danger Crumples and more!) in person at the show OR, if you can’t make it to Madison, I have made them available on stuff and things via my Redbubble page:


Danger Things

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“Truth hasn’t been too popular these days.” (Arnold in The Running Man movie from 1987, Oh the irony is so painful.)

33. The Bachman Books: The Running Man – Richard Bachman

Sooooo…this book makes me uncomfortable now because I feel like it’s the near future rather than a dystopian nightmare – and not just because it takes place in 2025. Dude.

There’s a lot going on in this story but the main things that stay with me are how consistent the demonization of poverty, the covering up of scandal, and the ridiculous value system are with our current era. Yikes.

To calm myself, I watched the film version, which is a little more ostentatious than the book and features Dweezil Zappa (namesake of my second ever guinea pig) in a Che Guevara outfit. I really hope that we’re in the unitard/Richard Dawson phase by the time the Mueller investigation indicts that moldy orange who was mistakenly put in charge for, well, pick your poison at this point there seems to be a lot of it. Money laundering’s pretty much a given and since he likes the idea of being popular, him running from a variety of celebrities with weapons sounds like a fun trial. I think it would get good ratings, and apparently that’s all that’s important anymore.

The running pig. Danger Crumples.

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“The Gift of the Magi,” it’s not, but, whatever. Be like the squirrel.

21. Darkness Visible – William Styron

One last post for the year… On a holiday that can be a really bad time for a lot of people. I generally have a hard time around Christmas, last year’s was particularly hard for me and I ended up coming back from my time at home in quite a bad place, which would not have made any sense if you saw me on my last day at work before the holiday. I was in a ridiculously good mood, also for no particular reason beyond having had one very amusing conversation the night before and getting “Get Lucky” by Daft Punk stuck in my head. I also listened to the whole of the True Story of Abner Jay that day. Vacillating back and forth between “Get Lucky” and Abner Jay doesn’t sound like a good idea on paper, but I do love a random juxtaposition and The True Story of Abner Jay is so fucking good. So good. I love that mule song, damnit. After work I drove through a solid whiteout snow storm for three hours to my original home land and I couldn’t listen to either song in the car; but, I don’t even remember what I listened to because I was concentrating so hard on not sliding off the road, or into anyone else, or losing where I was, etc. Inclement weather driving is not fun, but I have a lot of experience with it.

Anyway, I tend to feel quite lonely in places I’m not supposed to, at times I shouldn’t, and it seems like almost any time I have one really, really good day or feel actual happiness, soon after my brain thinks the other shoe’s going to drop. And it does, regardless of whether or not it really dropped. It’s like it wants to make sure I know “nothing gold can stay.” I know. I get it. So, by the time I was driving back to my current city of residence, it wasn’t possible for me to be remotely pleasant. I was definitely under the impression I was going from feeling bad to another place to feel worse with nothing to look forward to, clearly, any amusements were already completely over. Quite hopeless. And then when I got home I checked my little internet messages and got really, really, really upset, because I was trying to confirm I had nothing to look forward to and that my brain was rightly despairing. Nothing super-bleak can stay, either, it turns out, as I had one from someone I never expected and they did something I never expected in that message and additionally, they clearly wanted to see me soon. What a bastard. I made sure to mess up their hair when I drove to them immediately after letting them know I read it by calling them a bastard. They didn’t even know what they were doing – which is exactly how my depression breaks every time, some unexpected, tiny, usually absurd thing. So keep waiting it out and maybe your own grumpy metal Santa will come for you.

As for Darkness Visible, it’s another stone cold classic – and very short. I didn’t think it would be that short considering the number of times I’ve seen it mentioned in other writings about depression.

Instead of really discussing it, I’m just going to share some random chunks I related to and enjoyed or saw someone else I know in:

“…being engulfed by a toxic and unnameable tide that obliterated any enjoyable response to the living world.”

“…in the absence of hope we must still struggle to survive, and so we do – by the skin of our teeth.”

“…unwilling to accept its own gathering deterioration, the mind announces to its indwelling consciousness that it is the body with its perhaps correctable defects – not the precious and irreplaceable mind – that is going haywire.”

“It is a storm indeed, but a storm of murk.”

“Most people in the grip of depression at its ghastliest are, for whatever reason, in a state of unrealistic hopelessness, torn by exaggerated ills and fatal threats that bear no resemblance to actuality.”

Mini-playlist, my gift of absurd juxtaposition for you, gentle reader –

“My Mule” – Abner Jay
“Get Lucky” – Daft Punk
“Little Acorns” – White Stripes
“Never Gonna Give You Up” – Rick Astley


These boys “love” their sweaters.


All four of my Christmas pigs (Horace, Ozma, Peregrine, and Danger Crumples) and their tree.


Horace, Ozma, Peregrine, and Danger Crumples are sort of stuck, but, like, festively stuck.

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“When you grow up, your heart dies.”

44. Vampire Academy – Richelle Mead

The design of the movie version of this book is excellent; especially the color choices for the marketing materials and the soundtrack. It’s very process red and neon green and that’s great for what it is – a so deep it’s shallow friends and vampires story with some sex and violence.

It’s easy to tell that Mead did some significant mythological research and I feel like maybe she researched traits for sassy heroines as well… The connections in teen novels are often built on life or death overdramatics, and in Vampire Academy they didn’t feel earned to me. I still don’t entirely buy Rose’s devotion to Lissa, in part because Lissa felt like a total cipher of vampire royalty to me and also because I don’t buy Rose. Maybe all vampire royalty are total ciphers. Maybe all sassy teenagers who are full of themselves just don’t work for me, even though I did enjoy Holden Caulfield when I read Catcher in the Rye (which might have a lot to do with the writing and angst being palpable instead of told…). In the film I didn’t buy Rose and Lissa’s relationship either, even with emotional facial expressions. In the book, I felt like I was being told a lot of emotionally significant to the narrative things by a narrator who wasn’t actually capable of accessing their vulnerability (even without knowing it, like so many good narrating characters), so it just didn’t ring true- which is one of the problems with the YA boom. Don’t write down to teenagers.

Danger Crumples, guinea pig royalty with excellent, nay, immaculate design.

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It’s certainly not a “Dance Epidemic,” baby.

17. The Depths: The Evolutionary Origins of the Depression Epidemic – Jonathan Rottenberg

One of the most important sentiments that I found in this book is that humans “are not wired for bliss.” Rottenberg makes the argument that it isn’t normal to constantly be happy; it’s actually an evolutionary detriment to be happy all the time. And we as a species would totally not survive if we were constantly happy. Somebody has to notice the cliff instead of just happily whistling as they walk right off it.

The Depths presents its discussion of mood science with equal helpings of scientific detail and patient anecdotes and it was immensely useful to me. I love that Rottenberg is discussing mood. It seems like a really obvious aspect of depression to discuss, but it hasn’t been that prevalent in my own readings. I’ve often felt like whatever I was experiencing wasn’t “enough” to be considered depression because I’m otherwise pretty functional. I’ve even been told I’m “high functioning” by a counseling professional. I have had those weird days where I can’t stop crying and I don’t know why, but I’ve never gotten to the stage where I literally could not get out of bed, not even in acute grief-based depressive periods. When you aren’t similar enough to some of the narratives or symptom descriptions, and you feel like you just don’t fit in anywhere in the spectrum…it’s a strange situation. In The Depths, I see more of myself (and someone else I know, that was weird, seeing someone else in a depression narrative more clearly than I saw myself) and the trajectories that I face that I know are depression and involve consistent low mood. I also saw a lot of my own coping mechanisms and of course that makes one feel a little better about the path they’re taking. It meant a lot to me to see these experiences and to be able to characterize these situations in more logical terms. I’m not the most dramatic person, I like practicality, and I enjoyed The Depths.

Ozy and Danger are not trapped in a prison of their own minds, I stuck them in a laundry basket. They coped by gnawing and whistling at me until their cages were clean. Use those rootless teeth! It’s evolutionarily advantageous and a laundry basket is no Château d’If.

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“Is this heaven?”

44. Blood Farm – Sam Siciliano

The cover of this 1988 horror trade paperback is awesome. The title is perfect for an “Iowa Gothic” as it is labeled. That is where the awesome ends, unfortunately.

There are some strong images, the hippie driving the hearse is an amiable fellow, the damsel in distress is damsely and very 70s with the hitchhiking and such, and the highways covered in snow are aptly described. I also appreciated the very 1970s aesthetic of the apartment interior description… It falls apart in terms of the horror. It’s brutally obvious and gets rapey and well, the setting basically means nothing (kind of like the extremely cold Southern Gothic I read earlier this year, Who Made Stevie Crye? [sub-disclosure, I remembered the title as “What Makes Stevie Crye?” and that’s probably because a lot of the book made me want to cry(e)]) and that disappointed me a lot because I’m Iowan. There’s lots of Gothic to extract from the Iowa winter landscape and farms. I’ve seen some desolation, perhaps it is up to me to properly “Iowa Gothic.” To be fair, the one time I tried clove cigarettes and didn’t inhale seems like a more apt description of “Iowa Gothic” for me, which doesn’t bode well for the genre.

Danger Crumples and Horace engage in a tense scene from their Guinea Pig Gothic drama where they are friends and part of the same long lasting herd, but sometimes Danger is compelled by his dementia to be not friends and Horace wants the will re-written so he can inherit the unholy legacy of having as many little toys as Danger Crumples. It’s a real page turner. A flip book.

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“Surveillance does. I hate those.”

35. Shock Value – Jason Zinoman

Short essays on horror movies that gave me the impression that a lot of horror directors act like dicks. That’s actually not too much of a surprise. There’s an accepted attitude of dickishness that has been at work in creative enterprises for an extraordinarily long time, and if you take the lack of opportunities for women into account, it gets even dickier. And sometimes that dickishness works in the favor of the horror audience, sometimes it doesn’t. Too many cooks. Also, there are apparently several factual inaccuracies in the book and that is an important thing to consider if you are into serious film criticism. I’m not that serious, but I do like accuracy so I’m at an impasse. My favorite fact from the book was easily verifiable, so you know I’m trying not to lie to you.

Anyway, I learned many interesting little tidbits from Zinoman’s work and I really enjoyed the chapters on Alien and Texas Chainsaw Massacre in particular. One name that I didn’t know before reading this that I really should have is Dan O’Bannon – although leaving Dan out seems to have been kind of a thing back in the day. Apparently he and John Carpenter ended up frenemies and he worked on that failed Jodorowsky version of Dune and is responsible for the chestburster scene from Alien existing and H.R. Giger being involved in Alien. He is not specifically responsible for my very favorite fact from the book, the one I didn’t know and committed to memory because I knew I would need to repeat it as much as possible – one of the working titles of Alien was “Star Beast.” I cannot imagine how little gravitas Alien would have had if it stayed “Star Beast.” Holy shit that is a terrible title for a horror movie. Or a thriller. Or anything that is supposed to have dark suspense. It evokes the He-Man cartoon for me. The over-projected voices, the furry half-there clothing, the complete lack of suspense…that’s what Star Beast says to me.

I could've named Danger Crumples "Star Beast" and it would've made more sense than calling Alien "Star Beast."

I could’ve named Danger Crumples “Star Beast” and it would’ve made more sense than calling Alien “Star Beast.”

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Class of 1984 might be our best case scenario soon.

26. Schoolhouse – Lee Duigon

1988, a time when horror paperbacks were plentiful and there were more than enough skeletons on covers to scare all the children in line at the grocery store. Schoolhouse has a skeleton teacher (with bun and pointer, but no shoes, I feel like she could’ve been wearing shoes) with both an apple and another skull on her desk. Another skull on her desk! And the background isn’t just black, there’s a chalkboard and a spider web and everything. Pinnacle getting their money’s worth out of the cover artist. It’s a full painting. There are many parts of me that wish publishing still allowed for this style of cover and for a proliferation of bizarre horror novels.
Schoolhouse’s staying power is in its weirdness. If one went to public school, one generally could be led to believe that something weird is going on…especially in the 1980s, when the something weird didn’t have to be related to state budget cuts and elected officials painting teachers as the enemy for wanting proper resources because public schools’ mission is give EVERY student an education, and they don’t actually leave any children out.  Perhaps a digression, but things were different then and if your teacher was an enemy, it was probably because they were possessed by an alien beast creature sliming its way to the surface (now those are just lots of repugnant elected officials, possessed by somebody else’s money). Schoolhouse very much treads the line between horror and science fiction and who knew that would be a preview of our educational system today – vouchers and creationist textbooks, anyone? Scary stuff.

Danger Crumples and Ozymandias have very different investigative styles. Danger leaves no pillow un-turned, Ozy knows H.P. Lovecraft-style slimy beasts don't hide under pillows.

Danger Crumples and Ozymandias have very different investigative styles. Danger leaves no pillow un-turned, Ozy knows H.P. Lovecraft-style slimy beasts don’t hide under pillows.

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One thing I know will stay true for the next four years: Guinea pigs will still be cute.

63. Furiously Happy – Jenny Lawson

Last year ended for me under a dark cloud, this year started under one, and frankly I’ve been debating a lot about what to say or to post this year. I was tempted to just cover nothing but horror novels, and they might heavily feature in my posts, but I have a hard time with that because it isn’t as easy as I’d like it to be to find horror novels by female authors that appeal to me and I like to try to be balanced in my review coverage, especially when things don’t appear to be getting any easier for so many people. We are living in a time when people think feelings matter more than facts, being reactionary is somehow applauded, and being an elected official is losing its true focus – public service – when it comes to the highest office in the U.S. because of endless tweets and indignities. When your brain already tries to trick you into thinking nothing is going to get better, it just doesn’t help to watch someone light the match to make the world burn. It’s a lot to fight against both internally and externally.

However, I also appreciate a little escapism as much as the next person who can’t believe this is reality and that’s a little bit of what I’ve been providing content-wise here for several years. So, now I’ll let you gentle readers in on another little cloud that prevented me from posting – Miss Peregrine, queen to my herd, made it clear that she had ovarian cysts and had to be spayed; her surgery took place one week ago. I have never lost a pig to surgery and I know that’s unusual because I’ve had about sixteen pigs all together and several have had surgeries. Every time I’ve noticed and researched symptoms that would lead to surgery I’ve seen accounts of people who have lost their pigs that way. I also lost Danger Crumples last January, so January and anesthesia and I are not necessarily on non-terrified terms. Peregrine made it through, I’ve spent a lot of time hand feeding and staring at her and asking her to tell me how she feels to very little interpretable response, and she is doing well now.

Her back feet remain okay. They didn't need to shave her feathery little legs and for that I am grateful.

Her back feet remain okay. They didn’t need to shave her feathery little legs and for that I am grateful.

To bring in a book, as would be tradition, I read Furiously Happy by Jenny Lawson two years ago, but it surely will be helpful to people now and in the dim future. One of Lawson’s methods for dealing with depression involves a bit of funny extremism in that she will not strive to be happy, she will strive to be “furiously happy.” My version of that is being able to say “I’m actually a depressed person! I’m not just sad! I sometimes have very little will to live! Spring break!” to people who mention they’re “depressed” when their brain is not currently trying to tell them the world would be better off without them. Not that I do say those exclamations out loud – I’d never use that many exclamation points unironically. For shame, spring break, for shame. Many people are actually just temporarily sad, which is fine, but it’s not the same and should never be equivocated with depression. There are a lot of ways to be temporarily depressed, but they’re not all in need of medication or therapy and it’s not nice to equate things that will definitely alleviate with true depressive symptoms because it does tend to make people who need more significant help feel ye old stigma. Nobody needs that. Everyone’s sadness counts. Everyone’s sadness will not alleviate and you should be happy if yours does. Furiously happy.

A lot of whimsical descriptions of taxidermy appear in Furiously Happy, as does a Republican husband. I wonder about the current status of both of these, and Lawson does have a blog. It’s very popular, which is still not enough to cure depression. And if whimsical taxidermy did, I’d probably still be scared of most of it.

Peregrine eating expensive fruit. That's what queens do.

Peregrine eating expensive fruit. That’s what queens do.

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