
Brian Leno has come into a group of display cabinets and now is working to fill them up. I imagine he’ll juggle some of the stuff around again, eventually. Maybe have one devoted to his Jack the Ripper collection. Or literary suicides — or others. He’ll run out of cases long before he runs out of categories.
“Quick Pic of some shelves and books,” Brian writes. “Kind of a hodge podge really.”
Just glancing it over I see his Og books top shelf left. Nice dustjacket on Triggernometry bottom shelf extreme right. Next to Trig must be Brian’s copy of Texas Sheriff inscribed by Gene Cunningham.
“The photo in the middle should capture your attention,” Brian says. “Two first class scholars and a clown masquerading as a scholar. I’ll let the viewer decide which is which.”
That photo comes from PulpFest 2012 when Brian and I were on a panel about Robert E. Howard.
Brian casting a hairy eyeball on the clown comes after he found previously unseen postcard snaps of Cross Plains, Texas — REH’s hometown. The current REH newsletter asked to use them, so Brian complied — and the dude sitting on the end never sent a contributors copy or two of the issue.
I suspect they think the next time they want something from Brian, he’ll jump to it. . . .
A bunch of those fanboys are just bozos. No sense of books, or common courtesy. I wasn’t surprised that I never got a contributors copy when the REH Foundation reprinted Steve Harrison’s Casebook with my introduction. I’m amazed, actually, that they had the presence of mind to keep the intro, instead of having someone who doesn’t know anything whip a few words together on a boilerplate.
Or maybe they kept it in by accident.
I heard these fannish forces merrily ditched the Steve Eng into to REH’s collected poetry (but Steve was in the FIRST EDITION, the one that counts), and let the dogs loose on it.
Oh well, something is in print, I guess, but I’ll hope they don’t do up future versions where the fan writers get to insert their own poems in with Howard. You know they want to.
Ah, Howard Fandom.

























