UPDATING OCCASIONALLY (FOR NOW)

9 thoughts on “539 – A Knife In The Dark (END OF EPISODE 22)

  1. Why am I not surprised.

  2. Typical, it’s always someone else’s fault. Revenge is not just best served cold, but by stupid too. “This is all your fault!” Which is wrong, but in his head, it’s right.

    1. It’s also been heavily hinted he has already been brain washed by the zombie worshiping cult.

      1. Which, no doubt, made easier because of that under-lying feeling. People are always looking for a scape-goat…

    2. I don’t know if you got my callback by intent or not, but it’s great to see almost the same words echoed! https://www.zombieranchcomic.com/comic/203-breaking-worst/

  3. Honestly, probably the first time he’s ever taken control of and done ever in his life. There’s a reason why they kept him. Give a dog that’s been beat all its life a whiff of conference and control, you got a problem.

  4. Imagine his surprise when he stabs a pillow. 😜

  5. He isn’t in control, RC – he’s probably drugged to the very dilated eyeballs, probably with Datura. Back on p.443, Eustace is shown holding a Mojave Rattlesnake on a stick while the Brujefe milks it into a glass. Mojave venom A is a paralytic neurotoxin, like tetrodotoxin. Tetrodotoxin was thought to be part of the legendary Haitian “zombie powder”. The other part was Datura, which contains scopalamine, which messes with memory and concentration, and is supposed to render victims docile and suggestible.
    The question is, where did he get his current dose, and did a little drone whisper in his ear?

  6. Dr. Norman (not a real doctor)

    Me lleva la chingada !

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539 – A Knife In The Dark (END OF EPISODE 22)

Happy Holidays, all! That's a wrap (heh) for Episode 22 just in time for a Christmas cliffhanger! Hope we don't twist the knife too much...

See y'all in 2025 when Zombie Ranch continues!

Stories in song…

Dawn and I got around to watching Disney’s Encanto this past weekend and it’s been on my mind. A slow burn, honestly, but now I’m as obsessed as anyone else with “We Don’t Talk About Bruno” (and it’s safe to say a lot of folk are obsessed since it recently reached #1 on the Billboard Top 100 in the U.S., a feat not even “Let It Go” accomplished). I haven’t really had any stock in the Academy Awards in many years but I have friends in the movie industry or industry-adjacent and so it’s not something I can entirely ignore. One of my friends expressed amusement that Disney’s backing for Best Original Song went to a different tune than the one currently ear worming its way through America. Apparently the story there is that Encanto’s premiere came after the deadline for submissions for Oscar consideration, so Disney just had to make a wild guess ahead of time on which one of the compositions would be The One and… well, they guessed wrong. To be fair(?) “We Don’t Talk About Bruno” is not the kind of song that focus groups and conventional wisdom would see as an Oscar contender or even a chart topper. It’s not a belting solo or a romantic duet, it’s a quirky ensemble piece that’s heavy on the storytelling to the point you arguably need to have watched the movie to understand it. So I suppose one take away would be — a lot of people have watched the movie. But another thought that’s interesting is just the factor that should be its weakness, which is the heavy storytelling element. I personally am quite partial to songs that “move” narratively-speaking, especially if they’re bangers (as the kids say), but I have learned over the decades how little my personal tastes matter in the larger picture. This song works, and there’s a lot of analysis that can be done on why it gels together in such an effective way, including a climactic group repeat of individual stanzas that’s up there with “One Day More” from Les Miserables even though the subject matter is basically family gossip rather than revolution. But one thing that comes to mind is that I’ve been listening to the audiobook of Maria Konnikova’s The Confidence Game which is all about con artistry and why people keep being susceptible to its wiles throughout the centuries, and one thing she brings up is the power of storytelling. Facts, she explains, can be argued and refuted. Stories are slippier things to deny and tend to take root much more easily in our psyches, which is likely why ancient parents first made up something out in the woods that would eat you if you wandered off, just like poor little Og got eaten — rather than just rattling off what big fangs a sabretooth cat has. Stories can have immense power for good and ill, which is a heady thing to contemplate as a storyteller. But in the meantime, it makes it less surprising to me that a mysterious tale spun about a lost relative could resonate with a mass audience, especially if it’s got a beat you can dance to.