New stuff not finished yet, but I've redesigned the IRONCANDY blogspot site to be, you know, readable, with the following introduction:

Q: What is Rebar for Tootsie Rolls? A: Put a Sock in Your Pie Hole, Buster!

On a chilly gray November morning, in an old motor oil box unearthed in the half-lit basement backroom of a decrepit booksellers in Portland, Oregon, was recently found a moth-eaten pile of torn, disconsolate WWII pulp detective magazines stacked like a pile of action pancakes, covered in forsaken syrup. The stories within the yellowing, dusty newsprint pages, crumbling, covered in expiring bookstore ennui and both usual and unusual stains, were torn in half, incomplete, and bespoke- yes bespoke -of another era, where a man could do good when he got up in the morning even in San Francisco just by finding the right Nazi joker to sucker-punch in the kidney. And in the day, he could make a little cabbage slapping around a two-timing claims adjuster or maybe an amateur grammarian with a stick up his keister over conjunctions. And by the evening, he could be charming a smoking hot blond tomato who just stepped out of a Vargas poster into distracting him from the existential wounds of modernity, simply by drinking too much and showing her his really neat gun.

These are those stories that were those there.