"Where Fillmore County News Comes First"
Online Edition
Wednesday, June 19th, 2013
Volume ∞ Issue ∞
- 8:58:04, Jun 18th 2013 - cabraden1 - I salute you Colonel Overland. Your were my c.o. at Rockville Naval Air ... [Read More]
- 7:10:46, Jun 13th 2013 - chipperlee - Seems to be a well written article, except maybe Silica Sand is used in ... [Read More]
- 12:02:15, Jun 9th 2013 - getthefacts - The problem here lies in the fact that girls were repeatedly told "if y ... [Read More]
- 10:45:32, Jun 7th 2013 - Jo mom for 6yrs - Mr. Ehler hit the nail on the head. I agree with the religious con ... [Read More]
- 2:47:58, Jun 7th 2013 - hello - Hello, it's time you wake up. There isn't a community nearby that doesn't offe ... [Read More]
- 9:06:21, Jun 6th 2013 - hello - Hello, it's time you wake up. There isn't a community nearby that doesn't offe ... [Read More]
- 2:05:29, Jun 6th 2013 - Kim Wentworth - The number one rule in a debate: 1) if the person from the opposite si ... [Read More]
- 12:42:18, Jun 4th 2013 - EW - For someone that is always spouting religious rhetoric, you try to come off as a ... [Read More]
- 11:32:18, May 31st 2013 - JO PLAYER - This is unfair to us girls. Morrie Miller is not getting canceled but J ... [Read More]
- 8:25:34, May 29th 2013 - RP - Why is Mr. Ehler involving himself with non-school activities? Is he going after ... [Read More]
Dear Stephen King
Comments
I have to admit that over the years I haven’t paid much attention to you or the hundreds of books that you’ve written. I’m not a big horror fan and neither is my wife. She’s such a wimp, in fact, that she suffered nightmares after watching that sappy movie, The Addams Family Values. So it’s not likely she’s going to be curling up with a Stephen King novel any time soon.
I did pay attention last year when I heard on the news that you got hit while walking along the side of the road in Maine by that guy in the minivan. His excuse was that he was reaching for his dog. That always sounded sorta fishy to me. What was the dog’s name – Son of Sam?
I rooted for your recovery and was heartened when you said you knew you’d suffered irreversible brain damage after you found yourself crying while watching Titanic. Your brain, it seemed to me, was in fine form.
Then, how could I ignore all the hoopla around your latest book? The book that is only available on-line and that only cost $2.50 to download. I saw you on the cover of Time magazine and everywhere else. This was a momentous occasion, the media gushed, the publishing world will never be the same. They compared it to Gutenberg’s invention of the movable type press and others said it was akin to the beginning of the cheap paperback era, which hit in the 1930’s.
I realized that the time had finally come for me to read a Stephen King book. I guess I’m a consumer like everybody else.
So I went on-line and looked around and discovered that at Amazon.Com, they were ‘selling’ your book for free. No wonder they’ve never made any money. Their site was so overloaded with requests though, that they said that they would e-mail me when things were less hectic. I left my address and within two days I received a message that I could download your book.
First of all I had to download a program called Glassbook Reader. This took over an hour to do. I live out in the sticks where Internet connections don’t exactly hum at optimal speed. In fact, the very fastest my modem has ever been able to connect to the Net is at 26,400 bbs, which is akin to going about fifteen mph in your car on an Interstate hiway.
Still that’s a lot better than it was in the past when that evil company called US West pro-vided our phone ser-vice. But that’s an-other story – a horror story you might say. If you want to know more, send me an e-mail.
Anyway, after the Glassbook Reader was installed I was instructed to download your book, and this only took ten minutes max. Of course, in the civilized world you can do this in seconds, but that’s the price we pay out here for our country fresh air and uncongested gravel roads.
Your book was called Riding the Bullet and must be the shortest thing you’ve ever written, clocking in at just 66 pages. It’s probably due to the severity of your injuries that you are easing back into the literary mode. No doubt your next book will be of the usual 1,500-page doorstop variety.
You’ve got a real easy fluid writing style. I noticed that right away as I sat in front of my monitor clicking through your book. The plot line was fairly simple: a college kid hitchhiking back home to visit his mother in the hospital.
I found myself reading with a certain amount of apprehension and expected at any second that a pack of deranged cats sent straight from Lucifer would suddenly start clawing the eyeballs out of every resident in the state of Maine. That’s the kind of stuff you usually write, isn’t it?
This story doesn’t hit you over the head like that though. It’s much more subtle and it takes almost twenty pages before the college kid finds himself in an eerie roadside cemetery with a little mood mist rolling in underneath a foreboding full moon. He bumps into a tombstone with fresh flowers . . . . but hey, I don’t want to give too much away here.
Back at the road when he sticks out his thumb the next driver that picks him up is – yikes – a ghost!
It’s estimated that you’ll make $450,000 off this story by sell-ing it on-line. Of course, that’s pocket change compared to the 50 million dollars you earned last year. Man, being Stephen King, is like winning the Powerball jackpot week in and week out.
I saw where you were quoted once saying that your work was "plain fiction for plain folks . . . the literary equivalent of a Big Mac and large fries."
After finally sitting down and reading one of your books, I’d have to pretty much agree with that analogy. But McDonalds, though?
Naw, I’d say Riding the Bullet is closer in spirit to those ten burgers for a buck that we used to eat by the bagful in St. Paul at 2 a.m. at that famous culi-nary establishment called White Castle.
Yum!
I did pay attention last year when I heard on the news that you got hit while walking along the side of the road in Maine by that guy in the minivan. His excuse was that he was reaching for his dog. That always sounded sorta fishy to me. What was the dog’s name – Son of Sam?
I rooted for your recovery and was heartened when you said you knew you’d suffered irreversible brain damage after you found yourself crying while watching Titanic. Your brain, it seemed to me, was in fine form.
Then, how could I ignore all the hoopla around your latest book? The book that is only available on-line and that only cost $2.50 to download. I saw you on the cover of Time magazine and everywhere else. This was a momentous occasion, the media gushed, the publishing world will never be the same. They compared it to Gutenberg’s invention of the movable type press and others said it was akin to the beginning of the cheap paperback era, which hit in the 1930’s.
I realized that the time had finally come for me to read a Stephen King book. I guess I’m a consumer like everybody else.
So I went on-line and looked around and discovered that at Amazon.Com, they were ‘selling’ your book for free. No wonder they’ve never made any money. Their site was so overloaded with requests though, that they said that they would e-mail me when things were less hectic. I left my address and within two days I received a message that I could download your book.
First of all I had to download a program called Glassbook Reader. This took over an hour to do. I live out in the sticks where Internet connections don’t exactly hum at optimal speed. In fact, the very fastest my modem has ever been able to connect to the Net is at 26,400 bbs, which is akin to going about fifteen mph in your car on an Interstate hiway.
Still that’s a lot better than it was in the past when that evil company called US West pro-vided our phone ser-vice. But that’s an-other story – a horror story you might say. If you want to know more, send me an e-mail.
Anyway, after the Glassbook Reader was installed I was instructed to download your book, and this only took ten minutes max. Of course, in the civilized world you can do this in seconds, but that’s the price we pay out here for our country fresh air and uncongested gravel roads.
Your book was called Riding the Bullet and must be the shortest thing you’ve ever written, clocking in at just 66 pages. It’s probably due to the severity of your injuries that you are easing back into the literary mode. No doubt your next book will be of the usual 1,500-page doorstop variety.
You’ve got a real easy fluid writing style. I noticed that right away as I sat in front of my monitor clicking through your book. The plot line was fairly simple: a college kid hitchhiking back home to visit his mother in the hospital.
I found myself reading with a certain amount of apprehension and expected at any second that a pack of deranged cats sent straight from Lucifer would suddenly start clawing the eyeballs out of every resident in the state of Maine. That’s the kind of stuff you usually write, isn’t it?
This story doesn’t hit you over the head like that though. It’s much more subtle and it takes almost twenty pages before the college kid finds himself in an eerie roadside cemetery with a little mood mist rolling in underneath a foreboding full moon. He bumps into a tombstone with fresh flowers . . . . but hey, I don’t want to give too much away here.
Back at the road when he sticks out his thumb the next driver that picks him up is – yikes – a ghost!
It’s estimated that you’ll make $450,000 off this story by sell-ing it on-line. Of course, that’s pocket change compared to the 50 million dollars you earned last year. Man, being Stephen King, is like winning the Powerball jackpot week in and week out.
I saw where you were quoted once saying that your work was "plain fiction for plain folks . . . the literary equivalent of a Big Mac and large fries."
After finally sitting down and reading one of your books, I’d have to pretty much agree with that analogy. But McDonalds, though?
Naw, I’d say Riding the Bullet is closer in spirit to those ten burgers for a buck that we used to eat by the bagful in St. Paul at 2 a.m. at that famous culi-nary establishment called White Castle.
Yum!