Ian Totten's Blog

Someone has recently taken great interest in my coverage of my true crime ‘white whale,’ The Atlanta Child Murders, which has once again gotten me fired up. I don’t believe I ever fully shared my theory on what I believe happened. It is known that there was a very active pedophile ring in Atlanta during 1979-1981. What is less known is that most, if not all of those who went missing and turned up dead were ensnared in this ring, or that there were members from outside of the black community, namely white men. It is known fact that one of these white men was convicted multiple times, and that he lived across the street from a local swimming hole where one of the boys was last seen. This boy was known to have been inside of this man’s house on numerous occasions, and was in fact said to have visited the house on the day he vanished. When questioned, the adult male claimed to know nothing. Upon searching his home, police found a cache of pornographic pictures that they said at the time were all of white children. The reality is that many of those in the pictures were in fact black, and ended up victims in the ACM’s, including the boy who went missing on the day he was supposed to be at the house. Further, the pedophiles in this ring were well known to one another, and had a central hub on Grey St. that belonged to Uncle Tom Terrell. Terrell was fairly open in his proclivities, even with television news reporters. Something else often overlooked is that nearly all of the children attended wrestling matches at the Omni, so much so that the police questioned the promoters on record. One of these men, who I will call Jim B. was said to be openly gay, although after months of research I don’t believe that to be the case. This man was beyond politically connected, and had something of a magic touch when it came to the wrestling business, owning territories across the country and even outside of it. It is known that he owned the Detroit territory during a period of time when a man named Francis Sheldon was running a nationwide child sex ring out of North Fox Island, and that when the ring was discovered, the wrestling business was swiftly sold. Coincidence? It could be, except both Sheldon and Jim were very wealthy, had considerable political power, and traveled in the same circles. Jim was also forced to flee the country after being embroiled in a scandal wherein he provided college football players to wealthy men at parties.

Which brings us to Atlanta. One of those who went missing was seen getting into a nice car being driven by a black man while a well dressed, older white man in glasses sat in the back seat and smeared ‘mud’ on the child’s face The man’s description fits our Jim, and the mud was some concoction found at the house on Grey St that the children said made them feel ‘high and sleepy.” So where do the Williams’s come in? Both Wayne and his father Homer were photographers and known by people in both the Atlanta government and police force. Wayne ran a talent agency which is known to have had contact with many of the missing and murdered and both were photographers.

When a man was arrested in another state and began talking about what he knew in relation to the murders. That was when the adult victims began to appear. When this man was released, he too, soon wound up dead, and not long after Wayne Williams was stopped crossing the bridge. The next day, Homer and his son were seen burning massive amounts of pictures, negatives, and other items of interest in their backyard.

Now that you have all of that information, here is the full theory; I believe Jim was in this ring (possibly heading it), and that the others would groom the children for all of their mutual use. Wayne and his father would help in procuring them through Wayne’s business. When a child began to get too demanding or they grew tired of them, they were killed, possibly because they threatened to tell what was going on or that their friends were being slain. When the man from out of state began to spill the beans, it was decided that any others who were outside of the inner circle had to go. Keep in mind, at this point in time, there was no differentiation between being gay and liking boys. This is important as everyone of those males who were killed were said to have an interest in ‘homosexual activities’ with no age ranges ever being specified. I believe when Wayne was popped, it was a set up by those higher up (with the body being dumped later to further implicate him in the murders by his supposed allies). Wayne, either because he was too dumb to realize the trouble he was in or fearing for his families well being, took the fall. At this point he is still playing the game, because bad things happen to those who run their mouths. Some may think, 'why would they cover this up?' It's simple, the racial overtones of the case would have torn the city apart. It's fact that the Atlanta PD did everything possible to ignore the evidence presented to them during the killings, even going so far as to state that sex was not a motivating factor in the crimes. Even the Klansmen who have become the favorite target of those who believe Wayne is innocent were said to be 'homosexual' which in this context means pedophiles.

It's almost time. My newest novel, 'Throwaway Girls of Olympia' will be released in a little over a week, on Monday March 9th, 2020. This has been a long process, as the original ending was found to be to unrealistic and I was forced to rewrite it. How will it be received? Only time will tell, but you can preorder the Kindle version now. The paperback edition will, unfortunately, not be available until the release date. I hope you will take this journey, though it be dark and unsettling, as this is my first work that doesn't have any elements of the supernatural. Instead, it takes place in the real world, and is as realistic as I could possibly make it.
Click on the link below to preorder your copy (only $2.99) and prepare to experience something unique
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0857L8RNS/...

It's been a long time since last I sat down and wrote out a blog, and much has happened since then (which will possibly be covered in another post). For now, I'd like to offer you all a sneak peak at my fifth novel, "The Throwaway Girls of Olympia," which will be out sometime in the first quarter of this year with an amazing cover by the fine folks over at Hollow Creek Art.
Enjoy:
" 1.
Bugs flew past the truck’s windshield, appearing to glow in the light thrown from the headlamps. Woods stood on either side of the road, at times appearing crisp in the light, at others like ghostly black silhouettes. The driver paid them no mind, the red tip of his cigarette neither moving left nor right as he kept his attention focused on the stripe of dirt that raced up and under him in a never-ending blur. The radio played softly, mixing with the sound of the humid wind that rushed by outside the pickup truck’s open windows.
He saw her from a distance walking alone along the stretch of unlit road and slowed the truck to barely a crawl, switching the headlamps to low as he did so. She became a specter then, a ghostly image stumbling along the rutted road. He gauged her age at around fifteen. Removing the smoldering cigarette from his mouth he licked the inside of his lower lip in anticipation. She was perfect, the kind of girl he had always dreamed about yet because of some cruel twist of fate could never seem to obtain. Now she was here, less than forty yards in front of him, unaware that she was being watched; observed like some unique specimen as he stalked her silently through the night. A flutter of nervous butterflies sprang up in his stomach as the realization of what he was about to do settled into his mind. It was, he knew, forbidden by society. It didn’t matter. The excitement of anticipation flooded his body with adrenalin.
What if you get caught? a small voice whispered in the dark recesses of his mind. He knew what would happen then; they would cage and examine him while the courts and their doctors sought to convict him for being the way he was. Parents and friends would hurl accusations all while trying to understand what he was. They can’t understand you, the voice said reassuringly. No one really could, except for others like him, assuming that there were any others that is.
He looked around quickly, making certain that there were no pinpricks of light that would signal an oncoming vehicle. There was nothing now save the soft sighing of the wind, and in the distance the roaring whoosh of traffic out on the freeway three miles to the West. They were alone out here, just the two of them. He relaxed and smiled before reaching out a boot encased foot and depressing the floor stud that turned the high beams back on.
They lit the road before him as well as the walking shape of the girl in a halo of light. Her blouse was a washed-out blue that hung from her lean body shapelessly. Long dark hair spilled down her back in a wave, bouncing with each movement she made. The cut off jean shorts hugged her heart shaped ass as though she had been poured into them. They moved and stretched with each step her long legs took. He felt himself grow aroused at the sight.
Realizing that he had come to a stop he depressed the gas, hoping the truck wouldn’t stall out. It didn’t and he began to sidle up behind her, curious why she hadn’t looked around at the sound of the approaching vehicle’s engine. Must be on something, he thought. The truck was pulling up beside her now on her left and he slowed even more until it was almost stopped again. She turned to look at him, moving slowly as though in a haze. Her large brown eyes were glazed over and glassy. She stood looking at him with an expression of bemused puzzlement.
“Need a ride?” he asked, his voice sounding pleasant enough on the hot June night.
“Sure,” she responded, her words slightly slurred.
A slender, unsteady hand reached out and grasped the handle. It felt cool in the stifling night as she pulled the door open. Hinges squealed in protests and the door fell open, frozen in place as she clambered within. Another screech of metal as it thumped shut with a finality that was lost on the girl.
Then he pushed down on the pedals, easing forward. He drove off into the night, his truck following the spectral beams of light through the dark woods."

In keeping with my post from a few months back, wherein I stated I would not be doing any giveaways through this website, I am holding an off-site giveaway for US residents. From September 13 thru the 30th I am giving away 3 copies of my newest novel 'The House of Silver Doors' audio book. It's narrated by the amazingly talented Cory Thomas Hutcheson and I really think your going to enjoy it as he has brought my words to life with his rich voice and deep characterizations.
The rules are simple, copy and paste the below ad and share it throughout your social media world (Facebook, Twitter, etc.). The more times you share it, the better your chances of winning. Winners will be chosen by me after the 30th.
Copy and paste this to win and play:
Now on Audible: 'The House of Silver Doors.' A hauntingly familiar tale that will stay with you long after you're done. "Creepy, fun and with wit..." "Brilliant story, beautiful writing style.."⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
#newrelease #horror https://www.audible.com/pd/B07H4YLPVC...

I rarely if ever write reviews of music as its a deeply personal thing and we all have our own tastes. Personally I am an unabashed metal head (having created it for almost 20 years), that being said, I'm going to put out a review any way. The album is the new E.P. by Zoë Keating called 'Snowmelt.'
If you are familiar with this amazing cellists work, then you already know that she can create landscapes in the mind with sound. I personally became aware of her in mid 2005 when she was touring with the band Rasputina and while I love their work, I didn't really pay attention to the individuals. Fast forward to 2011 and I discovered much to my amazement that she had gone out on her own. I bought the first few albums and was instantly hooked. There's just something about her music that inspires my mind. When I write, it is invariably with her music in the background, as it clears my mind and helps it conjure up what I am seeing.
Zoë's new album is no different, as it is 18 minutes of sweepingly epic beauty that is rich and alive with emotion. Listening to it through the first time I found my eyes closing and a smile spreading across my face. The second and my mind began to fire as her artistry ignited the thing inside my brain where all of my stories writhe.
If you are looking for something outside your norm, music that will pull you into it, this is where to start. 'Snowmelt' takes what she has built before and runs with it, raising mountains of sound that leave you amazed a single person could be responsible for them.
You can find a copy here or on Amazon:
https://music.zoekeating.com/

It’s that time again peeps and freaks, where I review something else I’ve watched. Grab your hairnet, pull up those pants and hold on. This time I’m going to give you a review for a documentary called ‘The Minds of Men’ by filmmakers Melissa and Aaron Dykes.
Rating: N/A
Release: July 16, 2018
Length: 3+ hours
Where to begin? There’s so much information contained in this film, which centers on the CIA’s Project MKUltra, that it’s hard to decide.... While I can’t even begin to cover an 8th of what this film entails, I’ll try giving you a broad overview.
MKUltra was a secret CIA project focussed on mind control and interrogation that ran (runs?) from the early 1950s onward. While the official story is that it ended upon discovery in 1971, the filmmakers give compelling evidence that it was still underway at the time of the Church Committee hearings in 1976 (when I assume it was discovered that the head of the CIA had all the documentation related to the project destroyed in 1973. Yeah, that’s an open, honest, for the people government for you). What’s more interesting (and frightening, at least to me), is the implication that the techniques the Doctors developed were meant to be used on civilian populations to break and turn them into mindless drones (yes, turn away from this drivel, watch those celebrities shake their asses and bitch about not having enough money). Really heady stuff, that I more than believe has and continues to be used against us.
I found the overall film enjoyable and informative, though it did at times drag (cigarette breaks abounded during the viewing, because fuck cancer, 3 hours without a smoke and someone is going to die). This could be blamed on the filmmakers, but the reality is that it has more to do with the subject matter, which required them to go in-depth more than is needed for most other subjects in order for the viewer to understand things fully. At times (Part 2 mostly), I found it difficult to follow. This was due to a combination of the subject and the presentation (I told you it was in-depth, I’m talking Bill Beutel Eyewitness News levels of investigative journalism here), but the compelling nature of the narrative was such that I couldn’t turn it off. Did it take away from the film any? Only slightly (Think in levels of Yoda dying versus Jar Jar being on screen. This was Yoda). A few puffs on a smoke and I was back into it again, lost in the sinister nature of the men being presented to me (seriously, if you burn holes in a monkeys brain in the name of science, you’re a dick who should be shot).
While not as ‘shocking’ as other documentaries like ‘Paradise Lost,’ which tells the falsified story of the West Memphis Three and uses the horror of what was done along with crime scene footage to pull the viewer into the deception, ‘Minds of Men’ instead relies on archival footage and indisputable evidence to snag you. The eeriness of the subject matter (mind control and the breaking of human will), with it’s hint of eugenics and possible world domination, along with the female voiceovers and musical score melded nicely to produce a piece that was overall captivating and informative.
Would I recommend it? Put the kids to bed (early) turn off the phone, and don’t make any plans for the night. You should really watch this one. At best it will open your mind to how diabolical governments can be. At worst you’ll get some ideas for your next novel. Four and 1/4 stars.
You can get your copy here: https://www.themindsofmen.net/

Towards the end last year Goodreads sent out an email to all the authors on their site. In it they claimed many of us were clambering for changes to their giveaway program. For those not in the know, giveaways were free for us to set up etc. and all we were responsible for was the books at the end. This new, better program, the email said, would benefit us and get our work in front of more eyes. There's a catch though, each giveaway would now cost the author between $200-$600, and would only be available to U.S. residents. Let that information sink in.
As someone who has achieved bestseller rank twice, people assume I'm making money hand over fist. I'm not, nor are the majority of indie authors, even those with serious name recognition. Ad's cost money. Amazon charges a minimum of $100, boosted posts on Facebook start at $1 and go up if you want to be seen by more than a handful of people. Keep that in mind as you figure in that there's no guarantee that people will buy your book, let alone give you a review after they've read it. Nor do we make most of that sale price you pay, usually only a few dollars of it goes to us. We pay for our own editors, layout people, cover designs as well. You can see that best-selling or not, being an indie author can be an expensive career. The free giveaways were a cheap way to get our work into the hands of people who otherwise might not be inclined to check us out, and hopefully generate interest in our other works. But, because of "overwhelming demand " that avenue is gone. I have a vast number of other indie authors in my network, I know of few, if any who wanted these changes.
So, that leaves the question: why did Goodreads really change the giveaway format?
It's long been known that publishing houses dislike indie authors. We cut into their profits among other reasons. That I suspect is the real reason behind the change. The big firms put pressure, in the form of not using the sites giveaway platform for their own releases, to force a change. Goodreass is a business, they need that money to survive. So they decided to screw over their core users: indie authors and readers in order to keep it. How does this hurt the reader you ask? By charging they've severely limited the number of books that will be up for free, because most of us won't, or can't afford their prices. As a consequence you will be left with only the big names and have less chance of winning.
I for one will continue offering giveaways, through my blog, website, Amazon, and Facebook page. I will not be offering them through this site however, for the foreseeable future. I strongly urge other author's to follow suit and for readers not to swallow this sites lies and feed their corporate greed. Let them know your thoughts on this newest action. Who knows, maybe they'll listen or another website will open up that puts the needs of its users a head of the wants of a few.

Prologue:
Trevelyan led the small band through the countryside, uncertain of what they would find. They had been out a week, ever since Wendell (in one of his more lucid moments), had summoned him to the throne room.
It had been a strange day. Trevelyan was in the middle of supervising a torture when a guard had come down into the dungeon to inform him that he was wanted. Leaving the writhing farmer hanging from chains he’d followed the vampire up into the citadel above. Trevelyan had paid no mind to his unkempt appearance as they went, his graying brown hair had been tousled from the exertion of his activities, his fatigues (stained with various fluids), hung limply against his once burly frame, he sighed stepping into the elevator. So much for a relaxing afternoon, he thought.
The throne room was bathed in near total darkness. The great shields over the windows having long since lost power were in the up position over the great windows which ran from far down on the towers face to the room’s ceiling. Torches guttered along the walls. In years passed the throne room had seen opulence to rival even Earth’s most vain rulers. It had also seen cruelties unimaginable. Now it was a shell of its former self. Great cracks transversed the marble floor and spidered across the black walls. Heaps of refuse lay scattered about. Those few who chose to come here to conduct business did their best not to look around.
A dais sat at the back of the room, directly across from the windows, its steps cracked and pitted. Twin thrones rested at its top. Once grand in appearance, they had falleninto a sad state of repair along with their surroundings. The one on the left which had belonged to the long dead Lady Aurora Von Calistein, sat empty and covered in dust. To its right Wendell Bushemi, Emperor of the known world sat as he had nearly every day for the past century; lost and alone within the fragments of his tortured mind. He’d been that way since the summer following his usurpation of Christopher Von Calistein. At times Wendell was found to be lucid, though those times were few and far between.
His eyes looked out upon the room before him, seeing nothing of those in his presence nor of the filth around him. Within his mind a cool, sensual voice had started speaking to him.
Wendell my dear, Shiva moaned. She was the Goddess that lived beneath the citadel on the Isle of Wight where Wendell dwelled and to whom he had sworn his loyalty.
With a barely perceivable twitch of his eyes, Wendell answered her. Yes, my Queen?
There is a disturbance in the winds of magic, I have felt it for many days now, Shiva purred, the sensual sounds of her voice sending a shiver of delight through her child’s mind.
Yes, so you have told me before, Wendell replied. He could almost see Shiva’s graceful head nodding in anticipation to his response. Her thin, almost bird like neck causing her porcelain face and its cascade of platinum hair to move in a fashion that stoked the fires of lust burning deep within him.
I have searched long and far for its source, Shiva continued. I believe I have discovered it.
Wendell sucked back the saliva which had begun to form in his mouth. He wanted badly to know the cause of thatwhich vexed his Queen that he might destroy it, but Wendell had learned through the years that she would reveal this in her own good time.
Shiva smiled in the picture in his mind, her white lips parting slightly to reveal a hint of sharp feline teeth. Our enemy, your enemy still lives.
What? How is that possible? Wendell demanded to know. Shiva didn’t have to tell him who their enemy was, there was only one. Christopher Von Calistein. I killed him with my own bare hands, Wendell said obstinately. He could remember his fight with the dreaded vampire lord who’s DNA had been used to create him and countless others so that his wife Aurora could have a child. It had been a difficult battle fought atop the very citadel he now ruled from. In the end, Wendell had prevailed and thrown Von Calistein to the street far below after blinding him with the peculiar magic he alone possessed which made other vampires unable to stand beneath the morning light, Von Calistein’s armor had been found at the base of the tower, filled with ashes.
Shiva broke in on his thoughts, easily pushing them aside. So too thought I. It appears it is not so, however. He has been using magic to communicate with the dead. This is how I discovered that he still lives.
Wendell tried following her words but was still stuck on the idea that his father still stalked the Earth. How was it possible? Wendell knew that there should have been no way anyone, living or undead could have survived the fall.
Shiva drew his thoughts back to her. Even now he is using the knowledge he has gained from the dead to try to return to the land of his birth and retrieve something which he believes will be of use in destroying you and all you have created.
He’s returning to America? Why? It’s nothing but a smoldering nuclear wasteland now. Wendell suddenly wished the cloak of insanity would return to him so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the situation unfolding before him.
I know not, my child, but returning to it he is and you must stop him from achieving his goal, Shiva said, her voice cold. I last felt him up near Warforth, along the mainlands Western coast. Seek him out my child. Destroy him.
For the first time in over ten years Wendell nodded his head and spoke, his voice horse and cracking from disuse.
“Trevelyan, get me Trevelyan.”
Vampires scurried to do their Emperors bidding.
Presently Wendell’s second-in-command, a grizzled looking vampire named Trevelyan stood before him. His eyes danced at the thought that his Master might have returned from the seas of insanity that he sailed.
“Yes, my lord?” Trevelyan said, his once thick Ulster accent having faded slightly with the passage of time.
“Our enemy Christopher Von Calistein still lives,” Wendell croaked.
“But, that’s impossible?” Trevelyan sputtered.
Wendell waved a long nailed hand dismissively and went on. “Even now he seeks passage back to America to retrieve some sort of weapon. He is up near Warforth. Find him. Kill him.”
“Aye, Wendell, I'll find the bastard,” Trevelyan said, turning quickly on his heels to do as he was ordered.
Behind him Wendell’s eyes glazed again as the grip of madness retook him as its bride.
Now as Trevelyan stalked through the thick undergrowth South of Warforth he still found it difficult to believe, despite the evidence to the contrary they had found. Someone had cut down a small tree in a clearing three miles back, and from what Trevelyan had been able to discern, fashioned it into a boat of some sort. A large pile of wood shavings had been near by, as well as broken bits of cord. A peasant he’d found living in a hut nearby had explained what had taken place in the clearing, only after Trevelyan had threatened to sic his men on the man’s daughter. Information in hand, he’d had the small shack burned to the ground, its inhabitants still inside. How could ya still live? Trevelyan wondered again.
A light rain was beginning to fall as Trevelyan led his men up a short hillside. Reaching its peak, he looked down at the town below. Warforth was one of those settlements which had sprang up on the mainland during the Von Calistein’s rule. Then it had been an actual town with buildings constructed of stone and wood, its streets paved with cobblestones. Now however, it was little more than a collection of flimsy huts with thatch roofs, the materials of the old settlement having long ago been carted off by the Bushemi’s for other projects. Trevelyan grinned cruelly as he thought of the suffering and hardships the humans must be enduring here on the coast. The smile fled from his lips almost as soon as it appeared as Trevelyan looked out passed the town and toward the sea. Nearly two miles out a boat floated. He could tell that it had been fashioned from a log. As he watched the wind caught hold of the crafts fabric sail and pulled it further from the shoreline.
“Son of a bitch,” Trevelyan groused to himself. His eyes flaming coals, he turned his back on the small town. “I want this place burned ta the ground,” he said indicating Warforth behind him. Then Trevelyan stalked off to radio the latest developments back to base.


Get your copy @ http://amzn.to/2mrfWfN

Text from Gods of Fear.
Gods of Fear ©2018 Ian Totten The Blood God's Trilogy Book 3 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever, or stored in any information storage system, without prior written consent of the publisher or the author, except in the case of brief quotations with proper reference, embodied in critical articles and reviews. Cover Art and Interior layout by Deb GypsyOwl Bryan ISBN-10:1548364185 ISBN-13: 978-1548364182

Before I get into the meat and potatoes of the thing let me start of by saying that 'It' by Stephen King is one my favorite novels of all time.
It
rated R
2 hrs 15 minutes
***SPOILER ALERT*** I'm going to be giving an in-depth review here.
The movie starts off well enough, following the book fairly closely. The atmosphere and settings worked well. The child actors were cast nicely, and this could have been an amazing film. It wasn't. The moment CGI Georgie is shown running down the street in a computer generated rainstorm I knew they'd made a mistake. When Pennywise appears my first impression was of a retarded Johnny Depp as the Mad Hatter. There was nothing menacing or interesting about him. The movie got worse from there (how is that possible?) There is no storyline. I mean none whatsoever.
Suddenly it's the end of the school year and we meet the Losers Club. They all interact in stilted ways, with Ritchie throwing out dull dirty one-liners. Henry Bowers, the books secondary antagonist is introduced as a mullet wearing bad boy who is about as intimidating as my 4 year old. Over the course of the next 90 years the Losers all have encounters with IT in rapid succession that make no sense. None were even remotely scary or entertaining.
We meet Mike Hannlon who seems to serve no purpose other than he was in the book and had to be included. His run in with It involves the clown standing in a meat locker. That's it. Just standing there like clowns do, surrounded by dead meat until Henry nearly runs Mike over for no reason. Stan gets attacked by a painting, Bill sees Georgie in his basement, Ben (who has a collection of Derry horror stories hanging from his bedroom walls that make him come off as a budding serial killer) runs from a headless boy, Bev gets attacked by hair (after her fathers not so subtle indication that he's molesting her) and Eddie meets a CGI leper in front of the Munster's house. Our serial killer in training Ben winds up being attacked by Henry and they end up in the Barrens where Patrick meets his off screen end. Ben is suddenly best friends with the Losers.
Somewhere in all of this Bev joins them just because, and they all catch hard ons watching her swim in her undies (perve alert, she's like 12. Sexy panties.....no) before staring at her sun bathing. Next they save Mike (who again serves no purpose) as Henry and Co. are beating him up (no explanation is given other than he lives outside town). A dull rock fight ensues (at which point my wife and I both contemplate leaving) and they decide to go after IT. Just because that's what the script says.
In the house on Neibolt Street mind numbing nonsense erupts. Sure, why don't we just leave half the cast outside while three of us go in to fight this thing that's existence is never explained. So in go Bill, Eddie, and Ritchie. Blah blah blah, dull mindless wannabe scary shit. Eddie breaks his arm, Ritchie goes alone into a room full of clown dolls and a coffin, Bill saves him. Methhead in a clown suit pops out of the fridge (how long is this piece of shit?) Bev rams a piece of rebar through his head (wasn't she outside the big dark house with the others? Oh wait, now they're all in the kitchen and it's sunny, makes sense).
Then a fist fight breaks out because they're all scared, Bev gets taken after daddy tries popping her cherry, (I ask can we leave? No. Damnit.) some other shit that makes no sense happens (which I've thankfully blocked out) Henry murders his dad (sure why not? He's got a mullet, lets just skip right from badass to batshit insane) and we're back at the house on Neibolt Street again.
So they're all going down a well now, the blood splattered one beneath the Munster House with the pile of bones in front of it. All are down except Mike. Here comes Henry. There goes Henry, down into the abyss for evermore (what happened to his friends? Why is he driving Belch's car, did he kill him too?). Bev isn't scared of no clown, even one with headlights in its throat. Now we're all here, for the final fight. Oh hey look, a YouTube channel uploaded a Randy Savage match. He could kick this junkies ass without the rebar, air gun, baseball bat, and other assorted foreign objects that would make Vince McMahon wet (OOOHHH YEAH! You got makeup on my tights! Here comes the madness mother fucker!). Sweet shit they beat him with ease. No tongue biting or going to the beyond. No turtle even. Its over? Thank Christ, I've had to piss for the last three decades and if I left there was no chance of my returning.
There was nothing good about this movie. It was a waste of $6.50. There was zero plot, no character development, and a Methhead clown who looked good but literally did nothing unless it was a stilted CGI run thing and face spilt. There was some blood, a few curse words, and that was it. No reason for an R rating. My final grade: F-
Stay home and cut your toenails instead, maybe eat something from between the couch cushions.

I recently started an Amazon giveaway to try bolstering sales. As in all avenues I'm curious to see how it turns out. I've done them before on other sites such as Goodreads and through Facebook with mild success.
How this one works is simple. Follow my author page on Amazon, share the link with your friends. The more people who enter the better your chances of winning a free copy of Heart of Man.
https://giveaway.amazon.com/p/4a436a2...