on the cover (in3D!): Dave Senecal www.senecal.deviantart.com

Originally starting Tastes Like Chicken in Columbus, Ohio, Wayne’s been wrangling the legions at the magazine for 8 years now.  They’ve got their new print issue coming up in a couple weeks, and their website at TLChicken.com is always awash in new belly-laughs. Wayne’ll be live on G4TV on April 20th, and he’s also busy doing monthly radio shows, biweekly podcasts, and recently did some writing for Image comics.  Oh, and his interviews are friggin’ hilarious.

If you had to place a bet on a Bolton vs Tesh deathmatch, who would you put your money, how much would you put down, and how does your work at TLChicken relate to that decision? 

Bolton, all the way. Tesh is just a little girl next to the awesomeness that is Michael Bolton. In fact, I know it to be entirely true that John Tesh has a vagina. I know this because a good friend of mine named Jason Latta had sex with him in a bathroom at a public park. And besides, Bolton can belt out that heartfelt rendition of "When A Man Loves A Woman", and everybody loves that song, right? So yeah, my money would be on him. All of it. Every dime I have. All $7.64. And my work at TLC totally relates to that decision, because I'm surrounded by ass-clowns day and night, so I know them really, really well. In fact, I'm around them so much that it's kind of like I'm an ass-clown. Only not really.

What’s new in Wayne’s World? 

A whole damn lot! We're working on print issue #8 right now of our magazine, and the website continues to get bigger and bigger. We recently launched a video game on our site where you're Dick Cheney and you get to shoot your friends in the face with a shotgun. I'm always writing my own stuff-- books, screenplays, etc.-- and we also recently launched our own bi-weekly Podcast radio show. Things are busy at TLC. They always are. But creating things--  mags, sites, books, shows-- is what we love. Also, on April 20th I will be out in LA as a guest on G4TV's show "Attack Of The Show". Check your cable provider for times.

Read any good Zombie Anthologies lately?  

Actually, no, I haven't. Oh, wait... yeah, I did! You know, you kids are awfully talented in a lot of different avenues. Your gang of knobs reminds me a lot of my gang of idiots. "Brain Child" turned out really, really well, and you should all be very proud of the final product. In addition to great visual art and well-thought out writing, the layout is just beautiful. Congratulations on the publishing of it, and I'm really looking forward to the next project.

Do you know the Scorpions?  If so, can you get us an interview?  

I don't know the Scorpions, but I do know someone that did art for the cover of an old Scorpions cover. His name is Gottfried Helnwein. One hell of an artist, and he's a great guy, too. One of our staffers, Night Watchman, knows a guy named "Bug", but that's not exactly like a Scorpion.  I had crabs once-- okay, twice-- but those too are not very Scorpion-like.  Sorry I can't be much help. You know, I am going to a gay bath house later on tonight, so if I happen to run into Rob Halford I'll let him know that you're looking for him.

What was the best interview question you’ve been asked, and can you please answer that question for us?

Years ago I interviewed RuPaul. During the course of our interview, somehow the tables turned and he began to interview me.  During that portion of the interview he asked me if I had ever had a homosexual experience, and if I had ever had my "beef curtains parted". And will I answer that question for you? Absolutely not. But my boyfriend might be willing to answer it if you're ever able to get in touch
with him. His name is Rob Halford.

"Ology” refers to “the study of”. What is your Ology?

Well, I'd like to think that my Ology would be vaginology, as they are the one thing I love to study the most. Sadly, I'm probably more appropriate for either readingonthetoiletology or visitingpornowebsitesology more than I am for the former. Wow... I'm depressed now. Thanks a lot.  Your questions can really bring a guy down.

To learn more about Tastes Like Chicken please visit www.tlchicken.com.

A children's book for adults, God's Acre's "stories within stories" follow two children in a graveyard full of secrets. It is also an ongoing example of collaborative publishing whereby multiple artists and writers are able to flex their muscles within a single compelling narrative.

Here's a quick preview...

   “These crazy birds are yours?” she said with surprise, slowing the waving of her hands a bit.  “You talk to them?” she continued, with a definite note of extra disdain in her voice.  “I…I…why, you…you weird little runt!  I thought you were just a harmless weirdo with a crush on me.  I can’t believe I let you talk me up here, with all these crazy birds.  And look at this place, its like a garbage dump!”  She was getting into a rant now, every once in a while bobbing and weaving from a bird that flew a little too near to her or dropped something a little too close for comfort.  Some were even swooping down and trying to pull strings out of the clothes in the laundry, but only succeeding in scaring her more and more and making a veritable mess of everything.    Norman knew he had to act fast or this whole thing was going to go to hell, and the only thing he could think of was to pull out his tour de force. 

  “Wait, no…I wanted to give you something…I…I have a ring…I…I love you…and I…I never loved anyone else, and I can talk to you, and you don’t’ make me feel weird and you seem to like talking to me and its good and it makes me excited and…and I want to be with you…I…I want you to marry me.” He attempted to say, clearly desperate.   But what she heard had even less of the innocent emotion and confidence that he managed to muster.  She just heard a few fleeting words and saw him pull a golden trinket from his pocket and offer it towards her.     “Marry you?!?!” she shrieked, sending the birds that had calmed a little into a frenzy once again.  “You must be kidding me… And live where, here?!  Just…just stay away from me from now on and keep your damn birds to yourself!” she ended.  With a last wave of her hands she threw her wool blouse with about 25 long strands of string hanging from it at a couple of the birds that were near her head.  And in that same motion, she turned on her heals, stormed through the door, slammed it and left Norman and the birds alone with a shimmering ring in the middle of the room.

Well, after about 45 seconds of complete shock and awe, he slumped back in his chair, his mouth still wide open and confusion buzzing around his head like the ravens.     And then he began to sob.  And his sobs turned to tears.  And his tears erupted into weeping.  Long, lonely, ashamed weeping.  Questions and realizations filling his head.  Each realization knocked aside by the next question, filling him with hurt and embarrassment and anger and fright.  The ring, still held up by his right hand as it leaned on his leg was catching some of his tears and passing them down to the wooden floorboards and starting to form a pool around the base of the legs of the chair. 

Day in and day out, Norman didn’t move from that chair.  He just cried and cried, his depression getting deeper and deeper the more he sat.  Too weak of body and spirit to pay any attention to his ravens he just let the floorboards soak through with his tears until they couldn’t soak up anymore and turned the entire floor to a dark maple color, filling the room with the hint of mildew.

To learn more about God's Acre please visit www.omnibucket.com/godsacre.

Eleventy Billion...

Here's a quick preview...

In 1977, NASA launched the Voyager spacecraft into the deep unknown.  A time capsule.  A message from planet Earth.  The Golden Record, a 12 inch gold-plated phonograph disc, awaits inside the vessel.  It contains greetings in languages both ancient and modern, music that spans human history, images of life on our vulnerable planet. 

We are calling out.

29 years later, we still receive signals from Voyager, as it continues to travel farther than any other manmade object, beyond the Sun’s influence, and into interstellar space.  Soon, it will be too far away to communicate.  The Voyager will be encountered, and the record played, only if tere are advanced space-faring civilizations out there.  A bottle flung into the cosmic ocean. 

We are calling out.

This is another Golden Record, released into the abyss, urging us all to face the surreal and sometimes frightening truths that: We don’t know why we’re here, we don’t know what we’re supposed to do, and we don’t know where we are going. 

We are calling out.

To learn more about Eleventy Billion Miles Away please visit www.omnibucket.com/eleventybillion.

Horrible Celebrity Anagrams

1| Rot Steward; 2| Stefan Gweni; 3| Sircadul
Answers: Rod Stewart, Gwen Stefani, Ludacris

The Carlos Ray Living Memorial to the Unknown Contributor

A few more little-known facts about... Mr. Chuck Norris

When Chuck Norris sends in his taxes, he sends blank forms and includes only a picture of himself, crouched and ready to attack. Chuck Norris has not had to pay taxes ever.

During the 60's, Chuck Norris once drank a full glass of liquid LSD with his eggs. Then he slept for 8 months straight. When he woke he rubbed his eyes and said, 'All in all, I prefer gin.'"

Chuck Norris ate a rubiks cube and crapped it out solved.

Chuck Norris had the idea to sell his urine as a canned beverage. We know this beverage as Red Bull.

When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night he checks his closet for Chuck Norris.

Chuck Norris once ate three 72 oz. steaks in one hour. He spent the first 45 minutes having sex with his waitress.

Chuck Norris' excrement is used as currency in several South American countries.

As a teen Chuck Norris impregnated every nun in a convent tucked away in the hills of Tuscany. Nine months later the nuns gave birth to the 1972 Miami Dolphins, the only undefeated and untied team in professional football history.

Chuck Norris is 1/8th Cherokee. This has nothing to do with ancestry, the man ate an Indian.

Diary of a Sane Man

Only the ugliest women call me baby, love or honey. It is irritating. Earnhardt attired, zit ridden, ratty haired, squinty eyed, sunken cheeked, soul-dead malcontents with tattooed hands, gangrenous breath and fresh knuckle wounds just can't get enough of me. These are the same women who leave moisture on the couch from watching American Chopper. Plasma torch wielding, clink inked felons spitting and swearing has the same effect on these women that a gentle caress and a breathy whisper of "your femininity intoxicates me" has on normal, bathed, and inspired women. I must seep a pheromone that only attracts women who look like Dog the Bounty Hunter. UCK!!! Have you seen this fucking guy??  Dog the Bounty Hunter...this dude looks like a cross between an 80's "ooh brother" pro wrestler and a riot cop. Black jack boots (shiny) leading to black denim jeans (skin tight) outfitted with pepper spray (mild) and handcuffs (metal) Velcro-ed to either mid-thigh (vascular), belt buckle (large), black wife-beater (snug) topped with a dazzling blond mullet that gives God second thoughts about freewill.  Add a pair of depressed tits to the mix and you will understand my predicament.  Man-like she-monsters that remind me of collapsing freedoms spewing adoration towards me...not a fan. Dog the Bounty Hunter...I can't believe that filth is on A&E, the arts and entertainment channel. This show is neither artistic nor entertaining. This high tech redneck movement has to be stopped. I am sick of Texas Hold 'Em, NASCAR and "tricked out" trucks. Fuck your mullet with an 8 shaved into the rightal lobe and double fuck the 3 shaved into your leftern lobe, ma'am.

Please fill out the form below and we'll give you something for free.
No, it's not pneumonia...it's something better.

Why are there so many damn songs about rainbows?
We don't know, but what we do know is that you take care of the people that take care of you, like these two.