“There’s Jackalope In Them There Blog!”


Shouldn’t the plural form of jackalope be… jackaleepe?

One plus one equals “HOLY CRAP!”


When I was a child and people asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up, I never replied with ‘Ballerina’ or ‘Lawyer’ or ‘Pharmaceutical Technician’.  I looked them square in the eye (sorta) and said, “I want to write stories about bacon and jackalopes.”

I can finally say that YES, I have achieved my Everest.  Because UNNATURAL TALES OF THE JACKALOPE has been released.  Right now it is available for Kindle (paperbacks are out soon) and it can be found HERE.

But you may be thinking, “What IS a jackalope?”

UNNATURAL TALES OF THE JACKALOPE, Western Legends Publishing’s debut anthology.

A jackalope is a nefarious perplexity of mythos junk-punching zoology with a rubber mallet.  It’s pretty damn impressive.  It lulls you with the big round ‘come hither’ eyes, and then steals your whiskey and eats your babies.

But I could be wrong about that.  Its eyes may actually be more ovular, rather than round.

UNNATURAL TALES OF THE JACKALOPE includes 18 stories, a letter, and a poem of pure unadulterated horror!  And jackalopes.

Every single one of these selections are based on true stories that really did happen to the completely fictitious characters.  It’s like a rollercoaster of something rollercoastery.  This jank is all jacked up!

This is the first imprint from Western Legends Publishing, founded by the talented John Palisano, who is also UTOTJ’s editor.  The table of contents includes peyote tinged goodies from authors Jeff Strand, Sèphera Girón, Rick Pickman, Rachel Towns, Kristi Petersen-Schoonover,  Brenda Knutson,  Michael Bailey,  Jack Horne,  David J. West,  Eric S. Grizzle,  Aaron J. French,  D.T. Griffith,  Erik Williams,  Abbie Bernstein,  Matt Kurtz,  Misty Dahl,  Fawn,  Dean M. Drinkel,  Mike McCarty, and myself.

Jackalopes have brought a constant scourge of fear and perspiration to the American Southwest.  In fact, rebel youth actor James Dean’s last words were, “Holy hellfire, wh—”   While we may never know the end of that sentence, I’m pretty damned sure it had something to do with a jackalope.  And if that’s not enough to give your heebies the jeebies, then I don’t know what.


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