Fruit Can Be Funny Too

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Review of Hobgoblin #1

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I think crossover events in comic books are a lot like buying an expensive item. I recently purchased the new Samsung Galaxy Nook. I had purchased Nooks prior to purchasing the new one, starting with the Original Nook with had a electronic ink reading screen which made it easier on the eyes to read but really wasn’t very useful for reading magazines with images or trolling the net. And then I purchased the Color Nook, which solved those capabilities, but had a very limited number of Google apps, even though the machine was based on the Android operating system, and then the Nook HD, which was lighter and, more importantly, had access to Google apps, not just Nook apps. So I expected miracles with the Samsung Galaxy Nook. I had bought myself the Galaxy Note 10.1 when it first came out, which I have loved even though subsequent models have come out, so much so that I have not considered rooting the device and installing a custom rom on it as is customary for older devices. But the Samsu...
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[internal]

  core cloaked, clouded. meainng being central/inside   peel away, revelation of pulp/ unblossomed petals/ delicate organs.   [internal] covered in a crust. crust giving substance. existence within.   a temptation. remove the skin but expose the insides.   transformation. [internal] now external.   question from morass? can [internal] be known   Heidegger's cat
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Story Idea: Conspiracy (Rough Draft)

Ten of us conspired to murder Garrett Greenwell although only eight of us actually managed to endure the exhausting course it took to arrive at this moment. You’d have thought that standing over Garrett’s body, his immaculate blue suit, blood-soaked, would have invoked certain emotions in me, terror heightened by the rapid beating of an adrenaline fueled heart, anger rising from a manufactured offense, pleasure withdrawn from a well of psychopathy housed in the core of my soul. But none of that was the case. I felt nothing but pure serenity. “What are we going to do with the body?” Unlike me, Igor failed to appreciate the beauty in Garrett’s death, failed to perceive the canvas upon which we artists had sketched our work, failed to distinguish between the colors of the pallet we used to paint upon that canvas. We hovered over the body looking down upon it, eight murderers, shoulders hunched, heads hung, vultures over a carcass ready to feed. I exited my body for a moment so that I coul...
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