Hey everyone. I apologize for the dearth of Blowtorch posting. I’ve been doing my best to excavate some choice dirt on this whole thing, but have run into several impasses. For one, my grandfather has been vacationing in San Juan, so I haven’t been able to get in contact with him. And two, I’ve had this burning sensation between my toes that’s really been bothering me lately, so I’ve stayed off my feet for a week (I told my Human Resource rep that it was a fungus I picked up in one of the employee bathrooms, but really I think it has something to do with a recent barefoot traipsing through some standing water near the town recycling plant–hey, you take workers comp where you can get it).

Anywho, more to come…soon.

If I wanted to mess with someone who bought a Hummer, I’d congratulate them on getting a Schwan’s delivery route.

Illustration Friday “Wind” entry.

More from our mysterious informant:

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i saw you posted my last email. it’s ok that you did. the reason i’m giving you info is so the world can hear it. you know from my site that i was a big fan of the comic book. i had no idea reading it as a kid that there was more to them than fun superhero stories.

i got the issues i had from my dad, like i said on the site. he got them from his brother. his brother served in the army during world war II in europe. he used to send letters back to his family, and sometimes these letters included comics for his little brother. i didn’t know much about this until i grew up, just before my dad passed away.

apaprently the atomic blowtorch comics were given to the soldiers along with a few other comic books as part of their weekly rations. my uncle would read them and then send them home to my dad. my dad didn’t tell me much about this because his brother died over there and it was painful for him to talk about.

I dont have my collection anymore but i am trying to get them back. theres more to the story but that’s for another night.

in burning truth,

brian

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Well, it’s hard to know where this is going, but the fact that the Atomic Blowtorch comic book was given to soldiers during war time makes me further question his existence beyond the printed page. It might be a little disappointing if it ends up that the Blowtorch was nothing more than a fictional character, but it sure wouldn’t be surprising. Still, Brian, what do you mean by “more to them than fun superhero stories”?

click image to enlarge

My boss recently put a bird feeder up outside our office window. While it’s very pleasant to look outside and see one of God’s creatures chowing down on seeds and suet, I wonder why more birds don’t stop by. C’mon, it’s free food!

It didn’t take much waiting on bird visitors for me to make the connection between bird feeder and blog. I know our site’s not exactly a seed-stuffed ball of fat hanging from a tree, but the idea is the same: put out something tasty for free, and hope visitors enjoy it.

We use sitemeter to keep track of people who visit our site. It’s a good way to measure both site traffic and self-esteem. Still, it’s rather cold and impersonal. Can’t someone find a way to let me monitor blog traffic while giving me warm fuzzies?

Introducing BlogFeeder, a computer program that displays a virtual birdfeeder on your desktop. As people visit your blog, virtual birds visit your feeder. To refill the feeder all you have to do is post. The more you blog, the happier your feathered friends will be!

Personalize your settings so visitors from different places appear as different types of birds: Blue Jays for Canada; Chickadees for Maine; Orioles for Maryland. Best of all, you’ll know when a spammer is on your blog because he’ll show up as a big fat squirrel; enable spam-blocking software and watch as that virtu-squirrel gets the boot, BlogFeeder style!

Enjoy the popularity of your site and birdwatch at the same time with BlogFeeder! It’s fun! It’s eco-friendly! It’s Web 2.0… or something! And let’s face it, if you run a blog you probably need to be reminded of what the outdoors looks like!

“You’ll need to do better than that if you want to survive out there,” growled the typing professor. Built like an ex-football player, with ink-stained hands the size of small hams, he glowered down at Agent-in-training Steve Miller. “The way you misspelled ‘A-U-T-H-O-R-I-T-A-T-I-V-E’ you’d be lucky to crawl away with both legs intact.” He harrumphed to himself and strode away angrily. Miller gulped and looked down at the keyboard hanging from his shoulders, attached to the heavy powerpack he wore on his back. “I hate target practice,” he thought glumly.

Ever since the zombies started their rampage across the city, Miller wanted desperately to do something more than the desk job he was stuck in at the precinct. It wasn’t something he liked to think about, but he guessed the rate at which the bureau was losing agents was a big part of his application being accepted. Now he was almost done with his training and, at nearly 120 words-per-minute, he felt ready for some action in the field.

It turned out he didn’t have long to wait. The Thursday after his run-in with the grizzled typing tutor, the call came. Grabbing his sunglasses and suitcoat, he ran out the door and down the hallway of the barracks. As he ran along he met Sarah Beacon, a pretty young agent he knew from his forensics and keyboard maintenance classes. “Hi Sarah,” he puffed as he slowed to match her pace. “Hello Steven,” she replied, managing to stifle a small laugh at his harried appearance. “I guess this is the big day for both of us. I wish we could ease into this, but I guess there’s no easing into fighting zombies.” “No,” Steve admitted, “I guess not.”

They rounded the corner together and came face to face with Agent Mitch Benson, a veteran whose partner had just last week perished at the hands of a pack of flying zombie imps. “Watch it,” he snarled. “Hey, sorry,” Steve mumbled sheepishly. “You two Miller and Beacon?” Benson asked. “Yes we are,” replied Sarah cooly, “I guess we’re your new partners.” Steve glanced over at her. He wished he felt as self-assured as she looked. “Then let’s go,” Mitch grunted. He turned on his heel and was halfway to the barracks doors and the waiting patrol car before Steve could muster up the courage to follow.

The city was a mess. Roving bands of the undead certainly weren’t a tidy bunch. They also weren’t interested in using things like doors. Holes the size of full-grown men had been smashed through plate glass store fronts and brick walls. Steve swallowed hard, having forgotten how strong zombies could be. He flexed his typing fingers and distractedly moved them to home row position. At least he was well-trained. He silently touchtyped a few of the longer phrases they’d been taught, hoping he wouldn’t have to use many of them on his first day of combat. WHAM! Suddenly the car lurched violently to the left. Steve barely saw the right side of the car crumple inward before his head slammed against the window and the world began to go gray…

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