Rish Outfield's Blog

After a very long introduction, Rish presents the first section of his novella "My Friend of Misery." Teenager Brielle Montrose hears a voice coming from her little brother Brent's room in the middle of the night. And it sure ain't Bluey.

Afterward, Rish tells (in excruciating detail) the inspiration for this story, wonders about the genders of the characters, and proposes an assignment for a Writing class.

Download the file directly by Right-Clicking HERE.

Support me on Patreon HERE!

Logo by Gino "My Fiend" Moretto.

One of the podcast anthologies that asks me to do narrations for them--the last one being the unfortunately-located "The Cat That Went To Uranus"--is Cast of Wonders.

Recently, they had me narrate "Silver Screen Syndrome" by Mia Xuan.  The father of the narrator is suffering from an uncommon mental (or physical?) disorder wherein he only comes alive and alert when cameras are on him, to increasingly diminishing results.

It's one of those Science Fiction stories that is clearly about Something Else, but cloaked in the fantastic so as to make the subject more palatable to a 1950s audience.  Having to be around someone you love when their mind is deteriorating has got to be difficult, and I can imagine the writer of this story dealing with that by creating a malady that's distant from reality, yet just as baffling and/or frustrating as the real thing.

The story is extremely short, and yet it had half a dozen words in it I did not know how to pronounce, which is pretty rare nowadays.  I did the best I could with it*, but whether my performance is affective (or affecting) or not really depends on the listener.  Find out for yourself HERE.

*And that ain't nothin.  But still.

Rish tells a lengthy (interminable?) story about a patron with a wrapped-up object. "Incompetence is about to strike." Also, he encounters The Man In The Stall.

Note: I really ought to go back and retroactively retitle all these episodes with lurid titles like this one.

If you'd like to download the episode, Right-Click HERE.

Come support me on Patreon HERE.

Logo by Gino "Out, Security!" Moretto.

 My buddy Jonathan Wilson*, months ago, asked me for a couple of my readings of public domain stories that he could run on his YouTube channel, and he's put another one up.

"The Dead Smile" by F. Marion Crawford tells of the evil Hugh Ockram, who, despite being dead, still manages to ruin the lives of his son Gabriel and the woman he loves.  

I really ought to see if I can find another story by him--I spent an hour on Sunday reading a story by a much higher-profile author that ended so badly I just deleted the whole thing--but in the meantime, check it out HERE.

*Is that okay to say?  Is he my buddy?  Would he lend me ten dollars in a pinch?

Last year, Marshal and I watched AIRPORT (was it ever called ALEX HALEY'S AIRPORT?), and thought it was pretty good.  Now we're on to the second film in the series, the oddly-named AIRPORT 1975.*  It stars Chuck Heston, Karen Black, Efram Zimbalist Jr., Gloria Swanson, Susan Clark, Large Marge, Linda Blair, Erik Estrada, and of course, George Kennedy.  But is it any good?
Well, this happens:

I really enjoy doing these episodes with Marshal, so go check this one out HERE.  But first, for the love of Pete, fasten your safety belt.

*It came out in 1974.

Guest-starring Big Anklevich, Rish airs his daddy issues and simultaneously proclaims his love for 4 Non Blondes' only hit song.

They chat about nostalgia, Van Halen, the title of this podcast, and of course, they talk Pixar. And does Big know any Smashmouth lyrics?

If you want to download the episode, Right-Click HERE.

If you want to support me on Patreon, click HERE.

Logo by Gino "The Realest Prong That Ever Was" Moretto.

"She was a crackhead, son, your dead mother."

On Saturday, at the third No Kings protest, there were many, many amusing signs.  My favorite of these was an image of Frodo Baggins grasping the One Ring, only with Donald Trump's face over his, along with the caption "I will take the ring to Sauron!"

But while I was hanging out there, alone this time (my niece couldn't make it), I noticed a trio of teenaged girls, all with signs . . . and one of those signs had a familiar word on it.
A lot of the people at the protest were waving their signs around, but some only pointed them at passing cars (a lot of which would honk or wave their own signs back), but this girl kept hers where it was firmly unreadable from me.  Finally, I approached her, and said, "Hey there, does your sign say Donald Trump is one of the CHUDs?"
She turned her sign to me.  I laughed.  You see, there was a horror movie that came out in 1984 where the ad campaign absolutely captivated me, to the point where my friends and I would talk about CHUDs (Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Dwellers, mutated creatures that lurked in New York's sewers and subway tunnels) all the livelong day.  I finally saw the movie about three years later, and was wildly disappointed by it, finding it thoroughly mediocre.*

"A Chud is a--" the girl began, but I needed no mansplaining.  
"Oh, I know what a CHUD is," I said, and snapped this--admittedly imperfect--photo.
I went back to my place (next to an elderly lady with the profound and lyrical sign "It doesn't have to happen to you for you to care about it"), and eventually the crowd dispersed.  But as I was walking to my car (I had had to park four blocks away, despite getting a fairly good parking spot), it occurred to me that I should not have interrupted her.
I didn't know, at least in this context, what a Chud was.

Why didn't I let her explain it to me?  Then I'd have a blog post worth its low-sodium health warning.
But apparently, the word "chud" now means a repulsive or ignorant right-wing loudmouth, a reactionary troll, ie a basement-dweller, rather than the city sewer version.
And don't get me wrong, the word is still funny (I have always had a weakness for words that start with Ch-, such as chalupa, chunder, chingaso, Chima, the main character in CRANK--Chev Chelios, and the Argentine insult chanta.  I find them inexplicably hilarious), but I wasn't sure if it applied to Donald Trump or not.
But then, I remembered: Donald Trump is from New York City . . . home of the CHUDs.  



*In fact, for the past twenty years, whenever anybody asks me what movie I would remake, if I had the chance, the answer is always C.H.U.D..  Always.

Well, I've finally put out another installment in The Sidekick Chronicles.  When it came time to put a link to the other stories in the series (on the last page of the e-book), I discovered that there's only four others . . . and one of those ("Sins of a Sidekick") is not currently available (to you or me).

Even so, "A Sidekick To Miracles" is finally available for your scrolling pleasure. 

In 2018, I watched an episode of Rod Serling's "Night Gallery" that I hated so much I decided to podcast about it.  I bitched about its pointlessness and how there was a glimmer of a really good story in there but they chose to--and then, in mid-sentence, I came up with this story, "A Sidekick To Miracles."  I never used the podcast, for obvious reasons.

Ben Parks encounters a traveling snake oil salesman who tells him he's actually selling hope, and becomes his sidekick, however briefly.  Ben is young enough and naive enough to believe in miracles.

This is the image I liked back in 2024 enough to save it to one day use.
Is the story good, who knows?  Did I wrench every drop of potential out of that idea, probably not.  But was it worth doing?  Sure.  And is it better than the 1971 television episode that inspired it?  Yep.
I tried and tried to find an image I was happy with--
and poor Big created four or five of these for me--before I decided on this one.

But hey, don't take my word for it, check it out HERE.  

Rish finishes talking about this year's conference. Look at me, Gino! It's all for you!

Rish talks about a writer who only managed to write one book in a year, about meeting a Disney director, about letting your subconscious work out plot details, tries to answer a couple of Marshal Latham questions, and what he has now decided is his favorite Disney animated film.

As always, you can download the file by Right-Clicking HERE.

And of course, you can support my Patreon by clicking HERE.

Logo by Gino "Biter's Conference" Moretto.

I haven't had anything to write on my blog in a little while (yes, I have posted, but those have been posts from January or February that I hadn't yet put up).  But something I haven't gotten a lot of complaints about have been my reports about brushes with ghosts.*
A couple of the crappiest cameras we have here are the ones in the halls downstairs and in the building next to us.  While that has proved problematic when trying to identify patrons or suspicious individuals, it does wonders for would-be ghost sightings.

Take this image, for example.  I glanced at the monitor and there was a shape standing on the west stairs in a long white dress, the kind nobody wears anymore.  Of course, she had no face.

Well, I've seen this phenomenon before--and haven't we all awoken on a Monday morning forty minutes before our alarms are set to go off only to discover that we have no face?--so I watched the spectre in question.  Turns out it was just a young woman, posing for photos, and color me surprised, she was not thrilled to hear that I had mistaken her for a ghost.

Between you and me, if you came up to me sometime and said, "Holy cow, I totally thought you were a ghost," I would take it as a compliment.  Also, feel free to sub out "ghost" with "zombie," "devil-worshiper," "Child of the Corn," "serial killer," "wereoctopus," or "pervert."

Apropos of nothing, ghosts often tell Chuck Norris stories around campfires.

P.S.  You may be wondering what the title of this post is all about.  To be honest, I couldn't decide if the ghosts should have gotten a point, with me getting zero, or the other way around.  Ultimately, I decided that I needed a win, just this once.

*Of course, I haven't gotten any compliments about it either, but whatchoogondo?