Prefatory Note: Something is rotten in Mud Lick. The following is correspondence obtained through my contact, “Sticky Weeks,” and may be potentially damning for the Driftwood County Attorney’s office—CLS

August 15, 2019
FROM: Ian Ramsay ([email protected])
TO: Jimmy McGinty ([email protected])
SUBJECT: FOIA Request re Moon House murders

To Whom It May Concern:

My name is Ian Ramsay and I’m a freelance journalist creating a podcast on the Moon House murders in Mud Lick, Alabama. I would like to see what is publicly available in the DA’s case file for reference material. Continue reading →

Professional Wrestling is best likened to a very physical form of dance, where participants put their lives in each other’s hands nightly.* Outcomes may be predetermined, but injuries are very real, and wrestlers maintain faith in each other every night that they’ll leave the arena unharmed.

Then there’s Jerome Young, better known as “New Jack.”**

A self-professed ex-bounty hunter with allegedly five justifiable homicides under his belt, New Jack was more of a psychotic thug than a wrestler. His “matches” usually featured victims getting bludgeoned with various weapons Jack would carry to the ring in a trash can. From computer keyboards to guitars filled with jock itch powder, New Jack never found an object he couldn’t swing at someone while Dr. Dre and Ice Cube’s “Natural Born Killaz” boomed in the background. Continue reading →

I recently stumbled on a book with a rather horrendous title. The book is “I Wish My Kids Had Cancer: A Family Surviving The Autism Epidemic.” Michael Alan, the book’s author, apparently has two children with autism and the tome “intimately, honestly, and powerfully, addresses the emotional, social, financial, political and medical aspects of a family fighting for their very existence.”

The title is tone deaf. The premise is idiotic. This twelve-year-old book’s been bashed so many times that addressing it further would be like beating a dead horse until the corpse squeaks. I am not concerned with the book or its substance, however.

Continue reading →

The Grassy Knoll Pub is one of two watering holes in Mud Lick. With decor best described as “delightfully tacky conspiracy theorist,” it attracts residents and out-of-towners who enjoy the proprietor’s rants, free with every pint. Plus, the walls nearest the restrooms are usually redecorated each week with a brand new collage of photos, newspaper clippings, thumbtacks and yarn strands.

One night, the proprietor, a man named Jesse Custer, noticed a new customer in his mid sixties with graying hair and an authoritative demeanor. Even more noticeable were the men in matching black suits and earpieces who accompanied this new customer into the Knoll.

Custer, a lapsed Southern Baptist minister turned barkeep, was far less detached from the world than most of Mud Lick’s citizenry. As the graying, tired man asked for a glass of Bowmore 18, Custer politely asked him to wait a moment, then turned to the Knoll’s doorman. Continue reading →

You’re going to hear enough about the impeachment trial all week next week, so I thought today we’d go through some various items of interest you might have missed.

1. Chief Justice Roberts used the phrase “OK Boomer’’ during oral arguments before the Supreme Court this week. According to court watchers, this was a test run for Roberts’ attempts to make Supreme Court opinions more accessible to millennials. Expect the Chief Justice to begin adding “yeet,” “on fleek,” “extra,” and “bougie” to future penned opinions.
2. Disgraced media mogul Harvey Weinstein’s legal team asked again for a change of venue, claiming there’s no way he can get a fair trial in Manhattan. The newly requested venue is apparently Snake Island. Continue reading →

Prefatory Note: I got several messages from “StickyWeeks,” my informant with a private Discord Channel, over the holidays involving some rather explosive messages from the Mud Lick Sheriff’s Department’s email server. I provide them to you, the SJ readership, as a public service.—CLS

December 26, 2019
FROM: Templeton, Roy ([email protected])
TO: ALL DEPARTMENTS
RE: Boxing Day Reminders

Good morning everyone. I hope all of you had a safe and wonderful Christmas. The following are some important reminders as we leave one holiday and head to another. Continue reading →

SHG:

Aloha from “my island.” I don’t want to give away too many particulars of my location because I like how few people are actually around.

It’s amazing out here. A ten minute walk for coffee in the morning will give you a gorgeous oceanfront experience. I am sheltered from the bulk of “mainlanders,” the good-natured jab locals call tourists. There’s basically no one within thousands of miles to piss me off. Continue reading →

Here again are some unsolicited opinions, offered by a likely unqualified random person on the internet whom no sane person should take seriously. Unless you agree with me.

Here’s a fun thing to try this year. Instead of cookies and milk, have your kids leave a flight of beer and a pizza for Santa. You know what the jolly old elf really wants, and it’s not sugar and dairy.

One book I’d like to read next year is “We Fucked Up: An Extensive Apology Of Everything Bad We’ve Done” by Kamala Harris and Kirsten Gilibrand. Of course it’ll never get written, but a man can dream, can’t he?

Bumper stickers and decals are getting out of hand. You’re allowed two bumper stickers and one window decal. Points are deducted if a bumper sticker is from a failed politician’s campaign. Continue reading →

Prefatory Note: the following was written almost two years ago in honor of “National Dr. Seuss Day” as a tribute to the beloved children’s author. As many of you may not have seen the original post, I’ve decided to bring it back this week.—CLS

I am an inmate in a prison near you.

I am Oaf
Oaf I am

That Oaf-I-Am!
That Oaf-I-Am!
I do not like that Oaf-I-Am!

Do you like
Nutraloaf? Continue reading →

The holiday spirit lit up Mud Lick, Alabama like the warm glow of lights from a Christmas tree. This was Sheriff Roy’s favorite time of the year. Though snow wasn’t common that deep in the South, all the residents took great care in meticulously decorating their homes and storefronts. Holiday music rang through the speakers at the local Value-Lot.

A modest Christmas tree sat in the corner of the Sheriff’s Department bullpen. Sheriff Roy bought doughnuts with red and green icing that morning, and he nibbled on one as he wrapped his Secret Santa present: a copy of Scott Adams’ “Win Bigly.”

Sheriff Templeton’s festive mood was suddenly jolted by his phone ringing. It was Deputy Miranda. Continue reading →