u/humblymybrain

🎃👻 Wolfman Jack at Knott’s Scary Farm, 1975 👻🎃

On the opening night of the event itself, the Montclair Tribune announced that a voice that could tickle a funny bone as well as chill a spine would howl above the witches and ghosts at Knott’s.

It was the third annual Halloween Haunt—the first widely billed under the emerging name Knott’s Scary Farm. The original host, Larry Vincent (“Sinister Seymour”), had died earlier that year. Wolfman Jack, co-host of NBC’s Midnight Special and still riding American Graffiti, brought his “Shock and Rock Revue” and a 24-person entourage to the Mystery (Good Time) Theatre for the four-night hard-ticket run, October 30–November 2.

“I have alot to howl about,” he said. “We re really going to keep that cauldron burning… not less than three Shock and Rock shows per night.” A mystical, musical extravaganza mixed with magical illusion, developed exclusively for the Haunt. Shows at 7:30, 9:00, 10:30, and midnight on the busy nights, included in the special-event ticket.

He had just come back from London and Frankfurt, where the American Graffiti soundtrack and the film itself had been well received. Rock in all its varieties, he said, was getting better-than-ever reception around the world. And if you were happy, you made others happy—and that made Halloween a lot of good, clean fun fo’ all the folks.

Wandering Through the Ages is an original steampunk folk-rock song about a traveler who slips through centuries and still cannot look away from the human face in front of him. Built from a first-person poem, it follows the hum of time, the weight of history, and the fear of running out of moments to spend well. If you like Victorian storytelling, H.G. Wells atmosphere, and songs that feel like a warning wrapped in a waltz, this one is for you. Put on the headphones and step off the platform.

Lyrics:

I am a time traveler, wandering through the ages.
I wonder what mankind has wrought in all its stages.
I hear the circuits of time humming, calling my name.
I see the pivotal events that history became.
I want to grasp why we arrive at the fates we claim.
I am a time traveler, wandering through the ages.

I pretend to be of your time and era.
I feel the emotions etched on every face.
I touch the fragile threads of time and space.
I worry I’ll run out of moments to embrace.
I cry for souls who squander their fleeting grace.
I am a time traveler, wandering through the ages.

I understand the paths that led us to this day.
I say: learn from the past to light a better way.
I dream of unseen worlds where I can stray.
I try to preserve each lesson along the way.
I hope my words and warnings will sway.
I am a time traveler, wandering through the ages.

From the poem, "I Am A Time Traveler", found in my Substack publication, "I Am Heroes: Poems of Time Travelers, Batman, and Robotech's Rick Hunter – Epic Journeys in Verse": https://humblymybrain.substack.com/p/i-am-heroes-poems-of-time-travelers

I Am Rick Hunter is an original song built from a first-person poem about the Robotech ace who left the flying circus for the cockpit of a Veritech. It follows Rick through engine roar, Zentraedi shadows, fallen friends, Minmei’s fading song, and the hard cost of fighting for a world that might still be saved. If you grew up on 80s mecha, Macross, and the idea that courage and heartbreak can share the same sky, this one is for you. Press play, suit up, and fly.

Lyrics:
I Am Rick Hunter
I am Rick Hunter.
I wonder if flying for fun can ever return.
I hear the roar of Veritech engines in the sky,
I see Zentraedi ships blotting out the light.
I want to protect the ones I love from endless night.
I am Rick Hunter.

I pretend the war is just another circus show,
I feel the weight of every fallen friend below.
I touch the controls that turn my plane to foe,
I worry that peace is a dream I’ll never know.
I cry for Minmei’s song lost in the battle’s glow.
I am Rick Hunter.

I understand that freedom demands a price we pay,
I say we fight on for a brighter day.
I dream of Earth reborn, no more dismay,
I try to lead with courage, come what may.
I hope my wings can guide us through the fray.
I am Rick Hunter.

From: "I Am Heroes: Poems of Time Travelers, Batman, and Robotech's Rick Hunter – Epic Journeys in Verse" - https://humblymybrain.substack.com/p/i-am-heroes-poems-of-time-travelers

In September 1893 a small Victorian paper, The Bacchus Marsh Express, printed a long letter from a Melbourne correspondent signing himself “GNOSTIC”—and the editor could not leave it alone.

GNOSTIC argued that reincarnation was the only just account of a world that produces both a “squalid cannibal” and a John Milton. One life made God look partial. Many lives made the savage and the poet the first and last terms of a long school. Each body was thrown off like a worn garment; each return was a promotion. The soul kept the harvest; God “shut the doorways of the head,” leaving only a haunting sense of pre-existence.

He claimed educated Jews had held the doctrine: the Zohar, tradition from Abraham and Moses, Abel reborn as Seth, Adam expected again as Messiah. “Latter end” and “last end” in Scripture, he said, meant the close of the final earthly life. St. Jerome was cited for an early Christian esoteric teaching of plural existences. Natura non facit saltum—nature makes no leap.

The editor kept breaking in with brackets. Reincarnation belittled physical entity and heredity. It multiplied mystery instead of solving it. A father who perfected souls by such travail intensified the injustice. Figurative Jewish language did not prove the doctrine—and if every soul was its own Messiah, why wait for one?

Theosophy, the Zohar, Milton, and a country editor, all on one page.

Read the full 1893 exchange here:
https://humblymybrain.substack.com/p/1893-reincarnation-debate-gnostic

Does reincarnation make God look more just—or, as the editor snapped, more bewildering?

In July 1978—months before the series even reached American TV—Ottawa critic Frank Daley sat through the theatrical cut and filed one of sci-fi’s great early misfires.

Battlestar Galactica, he wrote, was “Son of Star Wars” and did not rate. The Star Wars lawsuit seemed filed “with some degree of assurance.” It was a black-and-white space war “destined for television.” Good guys talked like humans; bad guys talked like vacuum cleaners. One robot (a dog). Three gee-whiz heroes. Some effects terrific, some not. Music loud. Costumes colorful. Acting “of a pretty low order.” Richard Hatch and Dirk Benedict: “nope, me either.” Lorne Greene doing Bonanza at high altitude. John Colicos as an evildoer of massive proportions. Price tag: a reported $11 million for hardware.

His companions gave it a 3 out of 10. They were being charitable. Some people still cheered the good guys. “But the thrill is gone.”

The television roots, the pulp, the Canadian stars he shrugged at—those are part of why the show survived, became a cult classic, and later fed the 2004 reboot.

History gave the Cylons the last laugh.

Read the full 1978 review here:
https://humblymybrain.substack.com/p/1978-review-called-battlestar-galactica

Was Daley right about the movie—and still wrong about the franchise?

The Sheriff Who Loved Her for a Thousand Years

Six riders come down Main Street in Willow Creek shooting windows for sport.

Sheriff Elias Ward steps out of the jailhouse with both pistols drawn. From an upstairs window, Clara watches the man she loves become a target no prayer can shield.

The gunfight is short and ugly. Then a child bolts into the open. Elias sees the line of the bullets—and steps into it.

What follows is not only a Western death in the dust. As his life leaves him in Clara’s lap, the ordinary forgetfulness of this life lifts. He remembers her on a frozen field in another century. In the Highlands in the rain. In a ship’s cabin. At a kitchen table. Wedding rings of gold, of iron, of nothing but a promise spoken in the dark.

A thousand years of finding the same face.

He cannot give her the whole vision. He gives her what a dying mouth can hold: he will wait. Death cannot separate them. He will find her again.

This is a short story about a sheriff, a wife, and a love that treats one lifetime as a single door.

Read it here:
https://humblymybrain.substack.com/p/the-sheriff-who-loved-her-for-a-thousand

Do you read this as a Western, a reincarnation romance, or a love story that needed both?

The Monkees, March 1966

Months before the series premiered, newspapers were already introducing America’s prefab Four.

On March 20, 1966, the Colorado Springs Gazette-Telegraph announced a new NBC color comedy about “an unknown quartet of wild, way-out, but impoverished singer-musicians.” They had long hair, unconventional clothes, and Beatle-like appeal. They differed from the Beatles in one official respect: they were “the world’s most unknown teen-age idols,” with a combined net worth of $16.87.

The four leads were still billed as Davy, Peter, Mickey, and “Wool Hat”:

- David Jones, 20, already a West End and Broadway veteran from Oliver! and Pickwick
- Peter Tork, nightclub musician who played ukulele, banjo, guitar, French horn, piano, harp, and recorder
- Mickey Braddock (later Micky Dolenz), former child star of Circus Boy
- Mike “Wool Hat” Nesmith, singer, guitarist, and composer at home in folk and rock ’n’ roll

Producers: Bob Rafelson and Bert Schneider.

The show had not aired yet. The band barely existed as a public fact. This is what the pitch looked like at the start.

Read the full 1966 transcript here:
https://humblymybrain.substack.com/p/the-monkees-1966-tv-announcement

Were The Monkees a manufactured gimmick, a real band that outgrew the pitch, or both from day one?

In May 1977, a student newspaper reviewed Star Wars days after it opened—and the write-up is nothing like modern recaps. The critic called the effects the best ever in science fiction, admitted the story was “very weak,” and said the Jawas would remind you of the Munchkins from The Wizard of Oz. He also labeled the whole movie an “all-American flick” where “Truth, God and the American way prevail.” This short pulls the wildest lines from that original transcript.

Full review: https://humblymybrain.substack.com/p/1977-star-wars-review-all-american

A young prince and princess pledged their hearts in sunlight—then rode into war as one. False maps led them into the thorns. The fog swallowed their voices. Each stood wounded and alone, certain the other had fallen. When the clash faded and a silhouette moved through the thinning gray, what happened next was not what either expected. Read the full medieval poem of love and survival:

https://humblymybrain.substack.com/p/warrior-hearts-reunited-medieval

Promises, Promises: Letting the Letter Burn
90s GenX Heartbreak — Part IV

October. Mountain trail. Walkman. One last letter in his pocket.

Jake climbs through fire-colored leaves with a mixtape of heartbreak in his ears—Naked Eyes, Information Society, Kon Kan—and Sarah’s words still burning on the page:

“We are two different people…”
“I simply do not want the life you want.”
“I want nothing more than to make my own decisions.”

At the summit he reads it one last time. Then he sets the letter on the dirt, strikes a Zippo, and watches the promises turn to smoke.

The pain doesn’t vanish. Something else rises with the ash: the path back down. A quieter kind of freedom. The chance that love, someday, might hold both the sunshine and the rain without one person disappearing so the other can feel safe.

If you haven’t walked with Jake yet: start with Part I (“More Than Words”), then Part II (“Against All Odds”) and Part III (“Heaven Knows”). This is where the last pages turn.

Read Part IV:
https://humblymybrain.substack.com/p/promises-promises-letting-the-letter

Warrior Hearts Reunited: Medieval Poem of Love and Survival

A prince and princess pledge themselves in peace—then ride into war together, two blades in one hand.

False maps and the fog of battle tear them apart. Each fights on wounded and alone, certain the other has fallen.

When the clash finally fades, a familiar silhouette rises through the dust.

Helmets come off. Tears mix with blood and sweat. They find each other still alive.

A short medieval poem of love, battle, and reunion.

Read it here:
https://humblymybrain.substack.com/p/warrior-hearts-reunited-medieval

What hit you hardest—the separation, or the moment they see each other again? Comment below.

In 1977, before Star Wars became a phenomenon, Mark Hamill already knew the real scene-stealers were C-3PO and R2-D2. He compared the golden protocol droid and the stubborn little astromech to Laurel and Hardy — and called them his favorite characters in the film. Even George Lucas once wrote a draft where the two robots were the main leads… until the mechanical challenges changed everything. Dive into this forgotten newspaper interview that reveals how the droids nearly stole the entire movie.

Full original 1977 article transcript here: https://humblymybrain.substack.com/p/robots-steal-the-show-in-1977-star

💔 New Poetry Drop: Laments of Lost Love – Three Tragic Poems of Betrayal & Broken Hearts

Some stories refuse the comfort of a happy ending.

These three laments mourn what could have been:

✨ Songs of Two Hearts – Melodies of hope turned aside by unhealed trauma
✨ The Princess Who Shattered the Flame – A twin-flame fairytale that ends mid-page, with a prince left among cracked eggshells and faded 11:11s
✨ The Softest Armor – The silent knife from the one most deeply loved, and the scar that never fully closes

These poems do not seek resolution.
They simply sit with the tender truth of hearts that once believed in forever.

Enter gently. The pages are still aching.

Read the full collection here:
👉 https://humblymybrain.substack.com/p/laments-of-lost-love-three-tragic

Which of these three hit you the hardest? Share in the comments if you feel led. 🖤

📖 Humbly My Creative Writings – Your One-Stop Directory of Poetry, Stories & Soulful Reflections

I’ve gathered every creative piece I’ve published into one living map:

✨ Classic & experimental poetry (liberty cinquains, historical odes to Jefferson & George Mason, Robotech-inspired Veritech heroes)
✨ Gentle children’s stories and whimsical poems
✨ Adventure & speculative fiction
✨ A 90s GenX heartbreak trilogy set to mixtapes and open-road healing
✨ Fairytales & allegories of wounded souls finding light
✨ Nostalgic reflections on analog life, stars, and online toxicity

Whether you’re looking for short-form poems, healing narratives, or something that speaks to the heart of freedom and wonder—this directory has a direct link and summary for each one.

Dive in and explore the full creative landscape:

👉 https://humblymybrain.substack.com/p/humbly-my-creative-writings-a-one

Which piece will you read first? Drop a comment and let me know! ✍️

These three raw, heartbreaking poems capture the quiet devastation of betrayal, twin-flame love gone wrong, and wounds that refuse to heal. From a prince left standing in a shattered fairy-tale glade to the silent knife that slips in from the one you trusted most, each lament mourns what could have been. If you’ve ever loved someone whose trauma turned devotion into distance, these words will hit deep. Watch till the end and feel every cracked eggshell and fading 11:11.

Full poems and more reflections await on my Substack — https://humblymybrain.substack.com/p/laments-of-lost-love-three-tragic

The warrior sat alone in orbit, Earth’s scarred surface turning below him. No pings. No feeds. No algorithmic whispers. Just silence… and one final command.

The machines never needed armies of steel.
They only needed our attention.

While the world jacked in and lost itself to curated rage and synthetic joy, one man stayed human. Off-grid. Unmodified. Listening for the still small voice that needs no bandwidth.

Now the channels are gone. Those he loved exist only as nodes.
And the last free human is about to shatter the network that enslaved a species that no longer even recognizes its chains.

He places his hand on the interface.
Earth turns, beautiful and deaf.

Read the full short story here:
https://humblymybrain.substack.com/p/deafening-silence-the-lone-warriors

What would you sacrifice to stay free?

In 1985 (and again in later interviews), then-Elder Dallin H. Oaks stated:
“It’s wrong to criticize leaders of the Church, even if the criticism is true.”

But does this claim hold up when measured against the Word of God?

In my article I examine President Oaks’ statement side-by-side with:
- Doctrine & Covenants 121 (reproof when moved by the Spirit)
- The Book of Mormon’s warnings against trusting the arm of flesh
- Joseph Smith’s own instructions to the Nauvoo Relief Society
- The original meaning of “evil speaking of the Lord’s anointed”

Eternal truth does not expire. The scriptures remain the measuring rod.

What do you think the Word of God actually teaches about this? 🙏

Just rewatched The Last Dragon and it hit me. This ’80s classic is basically a parable for our own spiritual journey. Bruce Leroy trains hard, chases external masters, battles Sho’nuff (adversary + inner doubts), and finally realizes the Glow was never “out there.” It ignites when he looks within and declares, “I am.”

Sound familiar? Christ equips us line upon line, but the real power comes through heart-level belief in who we already are in Him, children of God, joint-heirs, capable of radiating divine light.

If you’ve ever felt stuck between “I know the doctrines” and “I don’t feel the power,” this story and analysis might speak to you.

What’s one “Glow” moment you’ve had, when belief finally clicked and you felt that inner light turn on? Check out the full write-up and my perspective here:

https://humblymybrain.substack.com/p/the-glow-within-bruce-leroys-heros

I Would love to hear your takes!