In honor of Bill Crider's kick-ass Edgar nom for his kick-ass Damn Near Dead story "Cranked," the Sweepstakes and Gaming Department here at Secret Dead Blog has decided to hold a little contest: Tell a Bill Crider Tall Tale!The rules couldn't be simpler. Just cobble together a one or two-line yarn about Bill Crider, in the spirit of those Chuck Norris Facts, and post it in the comments section below. Enter as often as you like. You can live anywhere in the world. We don't discriminate here at Secret Dead Blog.
And you know what we mean by "tall tale," right? Stuff like, "Bill Crider doesn't get wet. Water gets Bill Crider." Yeah, you got it.
Wild Bill himself will pick three of the best, and the winners will receive a Crider-signed copy of Damn Near Dead. (In fact, those copies were signed last night--David Thompson pinned him down while he was attending Megan Abbott's reading for The Song Is You at Murder by the Book.)
We'll take submissions all weekend long until 9 a.m. Monday. Bill will then pick his favorites, and we'll announce the lucky bastards shortly thereafter.
What are you sitting around for? Start spinnin' those yarns!
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42 comments:
Hey, I might even write one myself.
No one messes with Bill Crider. He's a man so mean he once shot himself for snoring.
There has not been an act of terrorism in the United States since Bill Crider started his blog. When terrorists hide in caves, Bill Crider wins.
Remember the Alamo. Had Bill Crider been there, the Mexican army would have surrendered.
I'm probably ineligible, but I can't resist this contest:
We all know Decartes said, "I think therefore I am." What very few people know is the end of that quote is "afraid of Bill Crider."
Jesus walked on water. Bill Crider walked on Jesus.
Bill Crider could kick Chuck Norris and Jack Bauer's ass. Blindfolded. After losing both his arms. And legs. In a boating accident.
Snow is just a myth. It's actually Bill Crider's dandruff.
4 out of 5 doctors agree; the only real reason that people commit suicide is terminal Bill Crider envy. Bill Crider strangled the fifth with a colostomy bag.
Vintage paperbacks don't kill people. Bill Crider kills people who buy them before he gets a chance to. Don't tell. Judy
Musty paperbacks aren't in Bill Crider's home. They ARE Bill Crider's home.
Bill Crider is so tough, Moses couldn't part Bill's hair.
Bill Crider once threw George Washington across the Potomac River. George said it was the best sex of his life.
When Bill found a robber in his house, he didn't go for his gun, nosirree, he just hurled a copy of Charles Williams' GO HOME, STRANGER at the varmint's head, and knocked him clear to Huntsville State Prison!
Bill Crider is such a gentleman that Dick Cheney was once civil in his presence, Paris Hilton once demure. Crider's most treasured secret: having written whole issues of the 1980s MIKE SHAYNE MYSTERY MAGAZINE, under such pseudonyms as "Brett Halliday," "James Reasoner," and "Joe R. Lansdale."
...for which he was paid damn near $3.50 per issue.
I once saw Bill Crider eat a live badger. No shit. An entire live badger.
True story.
Victor
A man once let Bill Crider kill him bare-handed in Reno so he could watch himself die.
When Bill Crider crosses the street, even 18-wheelers stop and look both directions.
Bill Crider created the world in six days, and on the seventh day he decided to create a second world.
Bill Crider created the world in FIVE days; God took all the credit but changed the number to six, so it wouldn't sound unbelievable.
Alvin, TX is famous for three things: a little old rainstorm, some old retired baseball player, and our hero Bill Crider.
Bill Crider is so terrifying polite that, should you make the mistake of telling him the joke about Mexia and the Dairy Queen, he will not rise up and smite you with a single blow. But he could.
Bill Crider once gave me a look so terrifying my digestive system completely stopped.
No shit.
Q. How many Bill Criders does it take to change a light bulb?
A. One. There is only one Bill Crider, and he never changes light bulbs. He simply gives the broken light bulb "that look", and it starts working again.
While Bill Crider was writing "Cranked," a tornado ripped through his house. It blew his paperbacks out into the neighbor's yard and tried to pick up Bill himself. But Bill dug in his heels right there under his desk. He held onto his wife with one hand and kept right on typing with the other. Finally, that tornado got tired and just faded away. Bill finished the story and his hair wasn't even mussed.
Bill Crider is the worlds greatest power-lifter. He just gives the weights that look, and they lift themselves.
Bill Crider once wrestled Ernest Hemingway AND a 14-foot alligator at the same time. When it was over, Bill helped Hemingway up and even let him use one of the steaks from that 'gator to keep his black eye from getting too swollen.
Bill Crider is so pulp, the Texas Citrus Growers elected him spokesman.
Bill Crider's bowel movements cause earthquakes.
He once sailed to Cuba and replaced Castro's liver with a live rooster.
Bill Crider's characters are so damn vivid the Federal Government automatically assigns them Social Security numbers.
Bill Crider knows the secret of turning rage into gasoline...but he's keeping it to himself, damn it!
When Bill Crider rewrites history reality has the good sense to rearrange itself accordingly.
The Ten Commandments were etched into stone by the power of Bill Crider's mind. He could have written them on paper the normal way, but he wanted to fuck with his editor.
He also wrote the Old Testament in one sitting, with a manual type-writer, while the Titanic sunk after striking an ice-cube in his cocktail.
Bill Crider once did his morning run in Alvin in the nude and NO ONE watched, stared, or even laughed. Of course, he was carrying a fully loaded shotgun and a Joe Lansdale paperback.
At the bottom of the front cover of every dictionary, in every language in the world, are the words, "by Bill Crider."
Bill Crider does not go to the dentist: he just shaves his teeth.
All the words in the world are Bill Crider's: he just lets us copy and paste.
"Bill Crider's Nursing Home" is aptly named: it's just him and forty-two nurses.
If Bill Crider were to read any of my entries, he would kill me for using the word 'just.' That's just-ice, Bill Crider-style.
Chuck Norris used to be a Texas Ranger, then Bill Crider got ahold of him. Now he uses a Walker.
I got ten minutes late to our appointment and this guy Bill Crider had already written a new novel, published under a house name, and done the outline for another. Just sitting there in the fucking bar! He didn't even have his laptop with him, he'd asked the waiter for a napkin. A regular Picasso, that man!
And, of course, I am late for the competition.
And with that, the contest comes to a close. Now it's time to consult Mr. Crider himself, if he can tear himself away from stopping tornadoes and killing people for using the word "just."
Thanks to everyone who entered. Winners to be announced soonish!
Bill Crider kicks Paris Hilton's ass in the Hot department, in choice of fashionwear, in ability to do nothing and get noticed for it, in coolness of friends, in vapid pronouncements of human-to- crocodile injustice, and in stingyness of vocabulary. However her home movies are better than the one he did. Probably because the camera was better. Crider's was so blurry I almost had to stop watching.
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