Diana Pharaoh Francis Talks About, Well, Me…

Diana Pharaoh Francis (Twitter, LJ) lies! You can’t believe anything she says here. She’s one of those fiction writers. She lies professionally! (Her next book Blood Winter [Amazon | B&N | Mysterious Galaxy] will be out around Christmas of this year.)  She informs me that she is not particularly dangerous and I escaped from nowhere and so no one is hunting me down to drag me back to any sort of asylum. Really.

I am very much amused…


Hello, everyone, and welcome to Jim’s blog. I’m here today to lay out some facts for you, facts you’re likely highly unaware of, and you should be. You must be able to make informed decisions.

First, I’m very sorry to have to inform you, but Jim has lied to you. Constantly and relentlessly and on a variety of subjects. Let’s start with the basics. He isn’t really human. What he is, isn’t certain. Some scholars have postulated that he’s some sort of alien with few bones, as evidenced by the cover pics he did demonstrating how real female poses on Urban Fantasy covers could be. As you can tell from those pictures, no human could actually manage them, and someone with either few bones or other magical properties could only manage to twist himself (or herself—it’s still debatable what gender Jim really is) into such positions. The fact that Jim reasonably accomplished these poses, is proof positive that in fact, he is not human.

Other scholars, incidentally, have suggested that he’s a shapeshifter (unlikely, given the shape he’s chosen for every day life is so very innocuous), that he’s a djinn (highly possible, given that he does fit into small bottles and it would explain the contortions in the cover pics if he was actually made out of smoke, plus Djinns are frequently not so attractive), it is also possible he’s some sort of serpent creature covered in human skin as a disguise (a la V or so many bad SciFi channel movies.) This latter possibility brings us to the next dreadful truth.

Jim Hines is the ghost writer for almost all of the SciFi channel movies involving snakes, piranhas, spiders, gators, octopi, and sharks. Yes. I hate to be the one to have to tell you this. He is responsible for not only writing, but casting and funding these movies. He himself came up with the brainless pepto-bismol pink spiders that farted fire (I mean, what a dead give away!) in Arachnoquake. Sorry Jim, you can’t fool us with the pink. You’ll have to do better than that. And Megapython vs Gatoroid was another of his babies–who else would have chosen his favorite singers Tiffany and Debbie Gibson for the parts? You now know what he does when he disappears and leaves someone else to blog.

Third, he doesn’t really have diabetes. I know what you’re thinking—he’d never lie about that. But I’m sorry, he has. Really, his blood is some sort of highly acidic goop that burns through steel. Yeah, you got it. His great, great, great, great aunt Martha was the alien in Alien. Though that was a disguise as well, so we still don’t know exactly what Jim is. The diabetes thing is just a cover up to allow him to stab himself periodically with needles full of some concoction that is believe to be a ‘happy’ drug. Quaaludes for aliens or djinns. Though the little baby aliens in Alien and Aliens bear a remarkable resemblance to a certain fire spider and also to all the spiders in his SciFi movies . . . . I sense a theme here, a Freudian slip of epic proportions that clues us in on not only what he is, but what a danger he presents to the public.

Folks, I’m telling you. Be careful when encountering Jim. He’s been killed before and risen up. I know. I killed him in Crimson Wind. But he’s back. Dare I say from outer space? Did you just walk in to find him here with that sad look upon his face that makes it so easy to like him? So easy to fall for his charms? So easy to believe that he could just be a normal human and not a secret weapon for some evil force intent upon taking over the world? Over your souls? Over your minds and your children?

There’s really only one thing to do to. Go now. Get yourself armed. Flamethrowers, RAID, Skittles, chocolate, Scotch, Dr. Who, Firefly—whatever it takes to bring this monster to a standstill. Save yourselves. Save your children. Save the dog. (don’t worry about the cats. Cats are much smarter and more powerful than anything Jim might be).

I beg you. Take precautions now.