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Merchant of Death retired. I was raised in El Nido, California. I grew up on a dairy farm, where I received my black belt in the ancient art of Portuguese Shovel Fighting, because nothing motivates a Holstein to move its fat ass into the milk barn like a good shovel on the snout.
El Nido was a tiny little town, where the cows far outnumbered the people. Looking back, I suppose I would describe myself as a geeky, fat kid. So rather than play a lot of sports, I preferred to read books. I was that one kid that always had a book in my hands and was usually reading at recess instead of actually doing stuff.
It was my mom that installed a love of reading in me. My dad considered reading fiction a complete waste of time, since reading time should be devoted to information related to important things, like cows or tractors.
But I was a voracious reader. I read everything I could find. El Nido had a tiny library, and by the time I was about twelve I had read everything there.
Two hours on the school bus everyday gives you plenty of extra reading time. I kept one of his index pages and checked off every book as I read it.
Eventually I got them all.
There was just something heroic about those that caught my imagination. Somebody my mom knew had picked it up at a yard sale. After that I discovered Raymond E. Feist and David Eddings, whole new worlds opened, and I knew that I wanted to write fantasy.
I started writing little stories in my school notebooks. I even illustrated them with dragons and swords and lots of explosions, because why the hell not?
The other kids loved them, and suddenly I discovered that I was good at making crap up to entertain people. It would be another twenty-five years before I discovered that I could actually make money at it. The first sci-fi I was introduced to was John Dalmas, and from there I went on a crazed spiral of reading everything possible.
I polished off Dune when I was about ten. She had to read it herself and then give me a quiz. Squirrels and rabbits would burrow into our irrigation ditches, and then when you ran water down them, they would break and flood the roads.
Nothing prevents this quite like shooting the little buggers. Basically, I shot a lot of animals growing up.
As farmers, you had your good years and your bad years. I remember one Christmas where all my presents were a new pair of work gloves and a brick of.
The latest PC gaming hardware news, plus expert, trustworthy and unbiased buying guides. Yahoo Lifestyle is your source for style, beauty, and wellness, including health, inspiring stories, and the latest fashion trends. In August, after a white nationalist rally in Charlottesville ended in murder, Steve Bannon insisted that "there's no room in American society" for neo-Nazis, neo-Confederates, and the KKK.. But an explosive cache of documents obtained by BuzzFeed News proves that there was plenty of .
No matter how poor we got, there was always an ammo budget. You see, killing animals was where food came from, and for me that was work, not fun.A description of tropes appearing in Hellboy.
Guillermo del Toro's films based on Mike Mignola's comicbook series, starring Ron Perlman as the big red guy, . A Collection of Interesting, Important, and Controversial Perspectives Largely Excluded from the American Mainstream Media.
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Get all the latest updates on your favorite movies - from new releases to timeless classics, get the scoop on Moviefone. A cache of documents obtained by BuzzFeed News reveals the truth about Steve Bannon’s alt-right “killing machine.”.
Jon is a part time misanthrope, full time American. Jon loathes modern academia, art, culture, literature, politics, television, and everything on god's green earth that has been inundated with boring, predictable, impotent, vapid Cultural Marxist horseshit which, mind you, is totally void of a single individual thought.