Interim Dunkin III Lowdown

Last Updated on Friday, 28 August 2009 09:28

Okay! Some of yuz are confused as to the current state of affairs regarding Dunkin III. I've drank quite a bit, so I feel uniquely qualified to clear up matters. There will be a test later, so pay fraggin' attention! Har! Ya rat bastadges. I'm gonna give away shit. Every week. I have a few uncorrected proofs of Bluetooth Bayou which are signed. I'm giving those away. Plus some GCCsuperCRAPtacular DVDs. Stay tuned for the final details.

First: there's a little thing on the right side that says Dunkin III Release. NO ONE GETS DUNKIN III until it hits 3000. AND... I won't release any other books until it hits 3000. Cuz, I don't want ya to think I'm just padding sales. Sales are growing like a milkweed. I've sold more book downloads than 90% of the authors currently on the shelf. It's a fraggin' tough business. Ya gotta deliver entertainment. I deliver. I brag about it. I drink. I knock people off a barstools. It's all good.

There will be a severely LIMITED EDITION of the DUNKIN TRILOGY in hardcover with all three books, PLUS a DVD-insert containing all three audiobooks and e-books of the DUNKIN Trilogy. YOU CANNOT BUY IT! But you can win it. I will use the number of your limited edition DVD to determine winners. And I will use the Florida pick three lottery numbers to choose those winners. I will have nothing to do with who wins. SEE! Fraggin' fair, and piggybacking off the random lottery picks of a crooked state.

 The actual paper books you win will be uncorrected proofs. THEY WILL HAVE TYPOS!  Look, ya kumquats. I ain't sitting in no hi-rise building with mirrored windows and leggy, redhead secretaries catering to my every drunken whim. I'm a lone asshole in a shack, with a five-year-old mac laptop, a supply of tinned sardines, canned pork&beans, a rum cache, some seegars and a fraggin' bad attitude. I write these stories straight from my fevered skull and send them your way via a cheap-ass Samsung microphone and an Imac located at a friends house in town.

There ain't no proofreader. No editor. No loving partner to flag my drunken typos.  You get what the fuck I wrote.

I've turned down book deals with no advance and a promise to print and distribute a bunch a books. Look, if I want to make jack shit, I'll stick a bottle of rum in my mouth and use my other hand to shove a thumb up my ass. My agent says I have a bad attitude. I agree. Wholeheartedly. Like Rorschach in The Watchmen—no compromise without a check. You give me a check and you can print-edit-jerk yer gherkin til the apocalypse.

Taking into account my foul fucking nature, the only way you will ever get Crites' work is come to this piece of shit website and buy.

And make no mistake, I damn sure appreciate it. There is no better validation of the value of my storytelling than your willingness to spend money. Fuck a bunch of comments. Fuck a bunch of ratings. I do appreciate them, and your emails. I answer them. Every one... just as soon as I sober up for a few hours. But... Cash means you enjoyed yourself. Cash means I have rum. Cash means my nonsense provided value. It don't get any better than that.

And you folks who have ponied up... For that, I will always love yuz... but I'll call ya names anyway.

OH! And the friggin' engine I rebuilt and was gibbering about in Clodcast 29. It's running. I took the bastard apart. Ordered piston rings, connecting rod, gaskets. Sanded the crank journal. Installed the new crap. Dosed all moving parts with engine assembly grease. Loaded the bastard with oil. Cranked it... and sheared the freaking aluminum pin on the flywheel—which, controls the spark timing. I studied. I googled. I figured out that the friggin' lock bolts on the crankshaft needs to be torqued to HULK specs. I put in the new pin. I torqued it down until the sweat dripped off my sack. I started it up. I drove the fucker around.

They wanted $500 bucks to fix it. I spent $130 on parts and seven hours.

My point: you and I have to accomplish shit. Every day. We're judged by our performance. Government screws up. Consistently. Inevitably. They are never judged. Never penalized for the harebrained crap they saddle us with. Treat them with the contempt they deserve.

New Clodcast written. But I'm writimg another book right now.