Writer • Artist • Podcaster

Paul Matthew Carr

Blogging about silly things and making things
up and then attempting to convince
people they are proper stories.
Talks into microphones as well.


& Tresspasses


Amateur Philosophy


Prog Rock






You Reading?

  • We are all familiar with the benevolent nighttime intruder who once a year indulges in mass breaking and entering to deposit gifts under indoor foliage. You know, the omnipotent fat man dressed in red who observes your every waking and […]

  • Well, it’s Christmas time everyone, and nothing says Christmas like Star Wars. And as we know nothing says Star Wars like Bea Arthur and Jefferson Starship! Wait, what? That’s right, the Star Wars Holiday Special [...]

  • Horror as a genre is an unusual beast. It is on the surface just a way to illicit scares, to give you a momentary burst of adrenalin. Other times it is a way to repulse you [...]

  • In 1954, at the height of McCarthyism, the comic book industry was under scrutiny for being a corrupter of youth and an inciter of crime. And according to the book Seduction of the Innocent by Fredric Werthram all of the […]

  • In the 1970s satanic cults were everywhere. Or at least that’s what popular culture would have you believe. In apartment complexes, suburban planned communities, and quiet rural towns – somewhere lurking beneath the all-too-normal exterior was a sinister group ready […]

  • I am driving home from work in the rain. The traffic is heavy and I am upset. Not at anything, in particular, just a strange combination of angry-sad, non-focused malaise. I have a feeling of something is wrong, there is […]

  • I stand atop the Sand Dunes at the foot of the Sangre de Cristo, the blood of Christ, my back to the wind. The sand swirls around me, my pockets fill with it, and my feet sink in it till […]

  • I had the privilege of hearing Kurt Vonnegut speak once toward the end of his life. I was overwhelmed by his humor and humanity. He was a unique and brilliant individual [...]

  • It is Independence Day. There is red, white and blue bunting hung from porches and windows. The air has the scent of smoke; it’s there in the background but always present. You almost don’t notice it...

  • Once, a long time ago, I lived in a house near the edge of the world. In the winter, when the air was still, I would lie awake at night and listen to the Ocean, to the waves. Relentless. Never-ending. […]

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