The Bullhorn of SILVER BROWN

SILVER BROWN: The Final Chapters

Chapters Seventeen and Eighteen will soon be presented to the good people of Planet Earth on Twitter. A new page every day, as usual. I usually start doing this sort of thing on the seventh day of a given month (i.e. today), but this time I’m reluctant to start doing that while the Stanley Cup playoffs are still on.

Ovi knows that feeling. Maybe not so much this year, but he knows that feeling.

The aforementioned sporting tournament is typically over long before the solstice, but this is hardly a typical year. So I tweaked the scheduling accordingly. The tweetment of these pages shall commence the morning after Lord Stanley’s Mug is hoisted. Which could be as soon as tonight*, for all I know.

* My apologies to any diehard Habs fans reading this, but your guys are as good as toast. They’ve clearly met their match with the Bolts’ powerful blue line. Tampa could replace Vasilevskiy with a three-toed sloth and there wouldn’t be any noticeable improvement to your shots on goal.

Once I run out of pages to tweet, SILVER BROWN shall be officially retired as a literary project. This site will then go through a molting phase of its life cycle. I know not what will eventually hatch out of the cocoon, but not knowing is half the fun.


The Bullhorn of SILVER BROWN

Now Playing: A Two-Network Double Whammy

Chapter Sixteen of SILVER BROWN shall be presented to the fine folks of Planet Earth, via Twitter. At a rate of one page a day, like always. It is a relatively short chapter, so it will be followed immediately by an encore presentation of Chapter Thirteen on Facebook. I have something more grandiose planned for the summer, so I wanted to keep things light this time around.

In case you’re not clear on the context, Chapter Sixteen opens with two witches standing in front of a mysterious toolshed on the forest island of ₪EYONUGHIISHI, the elder witch having just cast a spell to summon a colossal faceless entity that lives within the toolshed’s TARDIS-like interior…


The Soundtrack of SILVER BROWN

A Celebration of the Virtual Impeachment

At this point, I’d like to take a moment to dance on the Twitter grave of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I was never one of his followers, and quite frankly I would’ve sooner nailed both my testicles to a tree than click on that now-defunct follow button. Still, every time somebody I follow posted a cheeky response to one of his tweets (which happened pretty much daily), I would see that menacing glower of a profile pic show up in my feed. You know the one. The sudden absence of that glower most certainly is a beautiful thing. Never have to burn my retinas looking at his cerebral diarrhea ever again, and I’m happier than a pig in shit.