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Cussing Stinks Like Farts

Is it wrong to use profanity? Is the use of naughty words a sign of laziness?  Is the utterance of FUCK the equivalent of someone farting in your face?

Well, this guy named Eddie Lewis thinks so. Eddie Lewis presents four reasons why you shouldn’t cuss. Let’s look at them.

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1) cussing is repulsive

Eddie Lewis compares cussing to that of someone pissing in a public pool. I’m not joking.

Profanity is no different from passing gas or peeing in a public pool. It’s repulsive. It offends people.

Lewis, I would rather hear someone say fuck than swim in piss water. Piss water is ducking disgusting. I would also rather have someone tell me to suck my mother’s cock than smell someone’s fart. While profanity might offend your ears, the smell of a greasy burrito fart carries with it particles of fecal matter and lingers. The utterance of profanity does not carry fecal matter and should not linger unless you’re the type that fixate on some offense.

I know that you might be thinking that it doesn’t offend your friends. Right? Well, sure. A room full of people who are okay with cussing is a lot like a room full of people who don’t mind if you pick your nose and eat the snot, as long as they can do it, too. Of course it’s not offensive to people who cuss as much as you do.

So, if I’m following Lewis correctly, a bunch of people cussing is the equivalent of a bunch of people eating their snot? Uh, no. Just no. People eating their snot as a social function are probably insane. I don’t understand how a terrible comparison could be made. When people say bitch, shit, and fuck, they’re not engaging in a snot eating fest. You would be insane to think that literally. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt on that.

2) profanity is selfish and self centered

But to  continue cussing because you don’t care what people think is really nothing more than a selfish act of disrespect. When you cuss, you are really saying that you don’t care about anyone else but yourself. That’s very different from saying you don’t care what they think of YOU. One is a selfish act of disrespect and the other is a sign of maturity.

Lewis fails to realize the irony here. One that takes offense at what another does and then wants that the other to change his or her behavior to fit one’s subjective standard is selfish and self centered, and that is exactly want he is suggesting. If you don’t like that I cuss in my writing, then don’t read it, or just move on. Plain and simple.

Now, if I’m cussing while talking to you and the word offends you. I would then ask why is that? Let’s explore how an adult is offended by adult language.

3) swearing is unintelligent and lazy

Based on what fucking evidence? Based one what fucking god damn evidence?

Lazy word usage? Lewis, take notice how I used profanity in the above sentences to emphasize a point. Profanity can be used to direct attention, escalate a situation, convey emotion. I know you understand that, right?

When we use fowl language, we actually end up not using the language part of our mind. What we don’t use, we lose. Right? So every time we cuss instead of articulating our feelings with real words, we put off the day that we become capable of expressing ourselves when we are emotional. Wouldn’t you agree that this is a valuable skill? How often do you look back at those times when you should have said something but the right words just wouldn’t come to you in the heat of the moment?

I think you mean ‘foul’ language. I guess you let a dick slip out from your mouth before you typed this post.

Are you a neuropsychologist? Neither am I, but I know from grad psych courses that when you use words, you use the language center of your brain. Even when you talk out of ass.

The other point you bring up is about thinking clearly and learning how to navigate situations based on experience. What does that have to do with cussing?

4) cussing shows a lack of self control

Without self control, we are nothing but animals. And in fact, that’s what cussing always felt like to me, as if I was barking or grunting like an animal. Unfortunately, when you give up self control, it drags you deeper into the proverbial gutter where not only is it even more difficult to stop cussing, but other problems begin to creep into your life. And the deeper you slide, the more the cussing feeds on itself and grows.

Lewis makes the argument that cussing brings the user to the level of a brutish, knuckle dragging animal. Is this a real argument? So, cussing is like barking for you? Sounds more like a personal problem with words, certain words.

I prefer to live a life that is not controlled by my body. As a Christian I believe that my body and soul must be submitted to the will of my spirit which is submitted to the Holy Spirit. This is what self control is to me, making my body conform to what I know is right.

According to New Testament, all Jesus asked for was belief in him. Jesus said nothing about fuck, shit, pussy, and dicks.

Self control is making Lewis’ body conform to what HE thinks is right. He said it for me. See, it’s all about him and his self centered world. What exactly makes him think that it he is right? What does right mean anyway?

But cussing is an act of letting the body rule the soul. It’s backwards. When we are irritated, we want to resort to the primal roar of cussing to make us feel better. But any time you let your body rule your life that way, you are asking for trouble.

This is not an argument based on logic. This is just bullshit about his feelings. Lewis makes it sounds like cussing leads to bad choices. If you’re having a shit day, it’s probably because you let one too many fucks through your lips.

The biggest problem I have with this while topic, beside being subjective, is that I fail to understand how profanity is offensive. I can see how racial slurs are. But, the word FUCK is just a four letter word that means what, exactly? That was determined to be offensive by whom, exactly? When did shit become a naughty word? Because it offends? Well, then why does it offend?

Lewis, if you don’t like that I cuss, then fine. I fucking cuss, and what’s the damn point. You would like me to stop. You think that it would be better for me to stop. But I don’t see it. Does that make me stubborn and selfish. Sure, I’ll concede that, but you are also selfish when you think I should conform fmto your standards.

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Finding Time to Write

Let’s face it, writing takes time and time is hard to find. Unless you’re living off your parents, found a sugar momma, or comfortable living under a bridge, you gotta spend time busting your ass for a check that barely covers the bills. You get the check and know damn well you worked harder for this. We all do, right? 

Except the lucky few that found a way to exploit someone. Maybe I should be a welfare queen, or encourage my wife to find a sugar daddy. 

In order to bust your ass for that little dollar it takes time, a lot of time. So then, if you’re spending over 80 hours a week working, where do you find the time to write? 

What am I doing right now? I wrote this little blog post standing in the kitchen waiting on my coffee. 

That’s the time.

What are you doing when the kids go to sleep, after you and your wife had your intimate moment, or maybe you’re not married but you allowed both Hannifer and Palmela to play pogo on your stick. What are doing after that? Sleep? 

That’s the time.

What are you doing while you defecate at work? Checking your Facebook, Why? You already know it’s some drama BS or another heated political discussion that will go no where. 

That’s the time.

In order to find time, you have to use whatever time you can. Beggers can’t be choosers. And yes, the quality of the prose is killed when churning out as many words you can in 10 minutes, but it’s better than not getting the story out there, right? 

How do you find the time?

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Decide No Safe Word Cover

While Deadman’s Tome Trumpocalypse is still kicking ass and pissing off Donald Trump, Mr. Deadman is working on something with a bit more kink. February is a time for love and heart-break, but it is also a time for whips and chains. What it love without pain, right? And being that Deadman’s Tome has a routine of serving dark, demented, brutal horror it only makes sense that the gimps wouldn’t be given a safe word.

Help decide the cover for Deadman’s Tome No Safe Word.

Cover A: Handful
Cover B: Thighs
Cover C: Wide Open

Leave a comment below on which cover you like best.

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Facebook Doesn’t Want You to Read This!

Not making this up, folks. Deadman’s Tome HORRGASM, a horror anthology with six titillating tales of provocative horror, cannot be promoted on Facebook. Not only that, but because I somehow circumvented their promotion system, I am banned from using Facebook ads!

Why? Because apparently Facebook deems HORRGASM pornographic, which is odd, because it’s just text. There aren’t any graphic images in the ebook. It’s literally a collection of short stories and nothing more. I will admit that the original cover was graphic, but I even went against my own principles and censored it. But it did not make a difference. I tried talking with a Facebook representative and he told me that Facebook is not a platform for porn and smut. I tried to convince him to read the material, but he never got back with me.

It get’s worse. Apparently, if you try to search for Deadman’s Tome HORRGASM on Amazon it will not show up. It is not even listed, but the book is active on my side. Just what is Facebook and Amazon trying to keep from you? Read it for yourself using this link.




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Debt is the American Dream


Horror writer Chuck Buda joins Mr. Deadman to discuss Pay Up and Die. Pay Up and Die is a horror novel that illustrates a problem that is all too real, a problem that resonates with the American people: debt. It seems in order to do anything one is required to get into a debt. Want that new car? Let’s finance. Want that college degree? Take some student loans without thinking about it. Want that house? Here’s more debt and let’s see how well you can stay afloat before you drown.

When America is supposed to be a beacon of some sort, an example, and yet burdened with debt, it makes one wonder if that example is the dangers of delusions of grandeur. We are coming close to a time when debt collectors may take a more serious way of collecting what’s theirs. We are already in a time where people will sell their own kids to appease their debt collectors. But what if you could fight to the death in a battle royale to have you debt erased? Imagine the numbers of willing contestants, but the trick is that the winner always loses because that vanished debt doesn’t come with a nice check. Rather the debt is gone, but the need to get back into debt in order to live remains.

Chuck also talks about what it’s like to be a co-host under the mean Armand Rosamilia on the Mando Method podcast and shares something that he has never told anyone.


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Freak Out! 5 Horror Films to Watch Under the Influence


Deadman’s Tome Mug


Howdy, dope fiends! It’s no secret there’s plenty of entertainment that can be improved with certain substances–ask anyone who has ever gone to a Phish show or sat through an entire infomercial. Horror movies are no exception. There’s no shortage of bizarre and freaky splatter flicks that get even weirder under the influence. If you’re looking for a trip, I’ve picked out 5 of my favorites (along with a recommended dosage to get into the right headspace). And hey, if you choose not to partake, these celluloid fever dreams might be the closest you can get to an altered state.


But before we go any further, let me toss out a quick DISCLAIMER to protect my ample ass. To any narcs out there… this article is for entertainment purposes only. That means two things. 1) Ma, if you’re reading this, assume I’m clean as a nun after her Sunday bath. 2) Know your limits and adjust accordingly! Kleaver and Deadman’s Tome take no responsibility if you puke all over your favorite t-shirt. Now that we’ve gotten that legal mumbo-jumbo out of the way, let’s dive right in. So grab your buds (heh heh) and some munchies, because it’s 5 o’clock (or forty minutes prior) somewhere!



#1 House / Hausu. Japan, 1977. Dir. Nobuhiko Obayashi


Recommended Dosage: 1 tab of acid or 5 giant bong rips.


If you haven’t seen this psychedelic nightmare yet, you’re in for a treat. Gorgeous and her six teenybopper girlfriends head out to auntie’s house in the Japanese countryside. (Each of the schoolgirls is conveniently given one personality trait and a related name, a la the Seven Dwarves.) Unfortunately, auntie is a witch and has an army of household objects that are ready to come to life and kill!

Only in Japan… 

House is like a demented lovechild conceived in a threeway between a Hanna-Barbera cartoon, Evil Dead II, and a Monkees record played backwards. Keep an eye out for my favorite parts, like the disembodied head with a penchant for biting asses, or auntie waltzing with a cheap-o skeleton (rattle them plastic bones!), or the piano that eats people, or a bear serving up ramen noodles… for some reason. The whole thing ends with an ocean of blood that matches The Shining’s elevator in sheer volume. Pay close attention to the fate of the girls’ useless “white knight” teacher, Mr. Togo. You’ll never look at a banana the same way again. According to my Wikipedia research, no one at Toho Studios wanted to direct this picture because they feared it would be a career-killer. Their loss. House is a true gem, and even received a Criterion Collection release.


#2 Tromeo & Juliet. USA, 1996. Dir. Lloyd Kaufman


Recommended Dosage: 1 line of Adderall, 1 pint of rum, and the endorphin rush from a self-inflicted safety pin piercing.


Most of Troma’s movies could fit on this list, but why not class things up with their only Shakespearean adaptation, written by Guardians of the Galaxy director James Gunn? You’re definitely going to need a stimulant to keep up with the punk-rock madness contained in this film. In the first ten minutes alone you’ll witness a mumbled speech by Motorhead’s Lemmy (R.I.P.), a dead squirrel, actual footage of a nipple piercing, and finger removal by way of a desktop paper cutter.

It is exactly what it looks like.

The campy, scenery-chewing acting is better than most Troma flicks… well, some of it. Valentine Miele, who plays the Mercutio role, is particularly entertaining. The film loses something after he meets his fate at the end of a Hitler-faced hammer. It doesn’t take long for shit to get really weird: Rats crawl out of a pregnant stomach, Tromeo and Juliet fuck inside of a see-through box (“What light from yonder Plexiglass breaks?”), and a monstrous dong threatens our fair heroine. For maximum enjoyment, drink whenever the characters do, or when someone gets their head caved in. You’ll get good and fucked up. I’m still waiting for Uncle Lloyd to tackle Hamlet!


#3 Suspiria. Italy, 1977. Dir. Dario Argento


Recommended Dosage: 1 joint and a glass of red wine.


It’s a classic of horror cinema, but I’m not sure how people watch this one without cannabis. After a few hits, the ever-present red/yellow/blue color scheme practically jumps off the screen, and the repetitive score improves immensely. The first kill, with a beating heart and shattered glass ceiling, remains my favorite. But Argento is a master of jarring images–the maggots in the attic never fail to make me gag. See if your pot-addled brain can figure out some of the stranger stuff in this film. Why does the foyer of the dance academy have blue velvet walls? What’s the deal with the little kid with the bowl-cut and short shorts? Does Goblin know more than three songs? Like a lot of the Italian horror films of this era, the pacing can drag at times. There’s no shame if you fall into a kush coma; just make sure to tune back in for Suzy’s showdown with the decrepit coven queen at the end.


#4 Brainiac / El Baron Del Terror. Mexico, 1961. Dir. Chano Urueta


Recommended Dosage: As much Tecate as you can drink.

Hey, ladies!

This turkey demands a Mystery Science Theater-style riffing, so do what I do: slam back some watery Mexican brews and start yellin’ at the screen! The titular Baron/Brainiac, a necromancer and all-around bad dude, is burned at the stake in 1661. He swears revenge, and returns 300 years later as a rubber-masked monster with a kung-fu beard and a taste for grey matter. (He should’ve gotten a job as a gigolo in Tijuana instead. The Baron’s tongue is longer than Gene Simmons’, and his hands end in odd, tube-like fingers that could fit snug around some south-of-the-border boners.) The plot follows a pretty standard mid-century fright flick formula. The Baron meets a hapless victim and sucks out their brains, while the protagonists bumble around looking for answers. Shit gets set on fire. Rinse and repeat for the next 60 minutes. Watch for the Baron spooning brains into a cup like they’re tapioca pudding. Chug whenever the floor is covered with dry-ice fog.


#5 Frankenhooker. USA, 1990. Dir. Frank Henenlotter


Recommended Dosage: A 40 oz. and a blunt.


The cover of my DVD features a review from none other than Bill Murray: “If you only see one movie this year, it should be Frankenhooker.” Take his word for it! Our story begins when Jeffrey, a wannabe Herbert West type from Jersey, sees his fiancee killed in a tragic lawnmower accident. (“The vivacious young girl was instantly reduced to a tossed human salad,” says a news reporter. “A salad that was once named Elizabeth.”) Jeffrey keeps her head, but needs a body. In order to find the perfect specimen, he begins stalking, er… women with negotiable affections.

This young man is living the dream.

Henenlotter shoots on-location in New York City, back when it was sleazy as hell. His cast of unknowns adds to the grimy authenticity. This flick is absolutely bonkers! Highlights include flying body parts, purple nipples, and a certain face the revived Elizabeth makes (you’ll know it when you see it). Drink heavily whenever Jeffrey drills a hole into his own skull, someone is topless, and/or a hooker freaks out on supercrack. Frankenhooker has been one of my favorites since high school. At the tender age of 18, your esteemed author began and abandoned a script for a musical version. Maybe Lin-Manuel Miranda can get involved.


Bonus: Brain Damage. USA, 1987. Dir. Frank Henenlotter


Recommended Dosage: A shameful hangover.


If you enjoyed Frankenhooker, check out Henenlotter’s most explicitly drugged-out movie. A phallic alien parasite feeds off human brains while giving its victims colorful, trippy visions. After the hedonistic bacchanal previously recommended, this one a cautionary tale… the sweaty, gory withdrawal scene will resonate with anyone who has ever tried to kick a bad habit. Everything in moderation, kiddies!

About the Author: Philip W. Kleaver lives in Baltimore and writes speculative fiction. His work has appeared in Shotgun Horror Clips and Deadman’s Tome Trumpocalypse. One of his stories will be produced for an upcoming episode of That Horrible Woman, a horror podcast. Find him on Twitter @pwkleaver or on his website,

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Interview with Chuck Buda and FREE Trumpocalypse


This Friday at 10PM CST, Chuck Buda, author of Pay Up and Die and Delinquent, meets with Mr. Deadman to shoot the shit about debt collectors, horror, latest projects. Catch the show live by using this link

Participate in the chat and have a chance to win a free digital copy of Trumpocalypse!



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Send me to Trump!

Despise Trump? Think he’s the worst thing to ever happen? Then fuck him.

Even Trump supporters must admit that the cabinet selections are a giant red flag that the Bush years are making a comeback, but with even more doubling down. But, we could prevent that by using his own ego against him. Deadman’s Tome Trumpocalypse is loaded with stories, images, and an interview that will surely piss off the orange faced baboon. Help operation #FuckTrump by sending copies of Trumpocalypse to the Whitehouse and\or Trump Tower!



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Chill with Mr. Deadman

Chill with Mr. Deadman tonight at 10PM on the Deadman’s Tome podcast. Use this link to catch the show and participate in the chat.

Tonight I am open to discuss New Year’s Resolutions with callers via Skype. Just contact me using on Skype from 10PM to 11:30PM CST and I will answer.

I will also go over the top posts and stories for the year month by month!

we may have some fun with Writing with Mr. Deadman, where we will write a little something from a random generated plot and cards pulled from Cards Against Humanity.


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No Safe Word – Call for Submissions


Deadman’s Tome is calling for submissions for its February issue titled No Safe Word.


No Safe Word is themed around dark erotica with an element of horror and bizarre. Submissions should be approximately 1000 words. Deadline is January 25th. However, the call for submissions may close early if I’m flooded with quality work. So, send your submissions as soon as possible.

I offer 10% royalty as payment and an invite to the Deadman’s Tome podcast.

If interested, please submit to