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As authoress Jennifer Susannah Devore works diligently on the second edit of her fifth novel, in fact the fourth in her Savannah of Williamsburg 18thC. historical-fiction series, she takes a moment to celebrate October 13th: Goth Chick Appreciation Day.

It is a day to commemorate "those ladies, young and old, with a penchant for the macabre and twisted ... not your average, hair-twirling, dim-witted twits, they are the cultured, refined, poetic enigmas that make life worth living". As JennyPop is busy editing Savannah of Williamsburg: Washington, Wisdom & The West, Virginia 1754 (Book IV in the series), she will allow Foamy the Squirrel to enlighten you further.

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Remember, as it regards GCAD sacrifices, if cheerleaders are not readily available in your area, pinatas can be substituted for cheerleaders. It's not as fun, but it is less messy and there is no liability.


"Old goths don't die. We just dress that way."

- Kat Kinsman


Happy Goth Chick Appreciation Day to all you fellow poetic enigmas!


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As author Jennifer Susannah Devore works diligently, her wee fingertips tattered to the bone, editing Book IV of her Savannah of Williamsburg series of historical-fiction, she finds herself currently obsessed with AMC's resplendent, American Revolutionary War drama, TURN: Washington's Spies.

Well, of course she is, you roll your eyes. She's JennyPop. Anyone who knows her even moderately well knows of her love affair with the 18thC.: art, architecture, fashion, history, literature and so on. To boot, the series is shot on-location in Virginia, including her fave American hamlet, her former home of Colonial Williamsburg. I wonder if the cast hangs out at The Green Leafe? JennyPop wonders. Oh, wait., she recalls. It's closed for renovations. Maybe they go to Blue Talon Bistro? she adjusts her curiosity.

In between long bouts of editing, she has, of late, been curating her own TURN soundtrack. Odd, you might think. Yes, one could agree. What a glorious waste of time, you amend. Again, yes, one could agree.

Regardless of your opinion, she has gloriously wasted her time for you, the TURN devotee. As you await the fourth, and, sadly, final season on AMC, fret not. If you find yourself mourning the loss of Major John André, fretting over the emotional well-being of Miss Peggy Shippen-Arnold, terrified of Captain Simcoe's next psychotic demonstration, curious if Mary Woodhull will take to attempted murder again and hoping against hope that Anna and Captain Hewlett find true love together, you can always watch and re-watch the series on Netflix and Amazon Instant, buy the Blu-Rays and, if you so choose, peruse JennyPop's TURN soundtrack and perchance create your own playlist.

Aside: One of JennyPop's dear friends, Lance Pedigo, former Head of Music for Colonial Williamsburg and former head of the CW Fife and Drum Corps, leads the sad, drum procession to Major John André's hanging at the end of S3e10: "Trial and Execution".


JennyPop's TURN Soundtrack


"Don't Cry" (Major André's and Peggy's lament) by Guns N' Roses

"Centuries" by Fall Out Boy

"Regular Army O" by Mick Moloney

"Sucker For Pain" on Suicide Squad soundtrack

"Stressed Out" by Twenty One Pilots

"Renegades" by X Ambassadors

"Strip" by Adam Ant

"Little Talks" by Of Monsters and Men

"Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen or Panic at the Disco!

"Fake It" by Seether

"Stand and Deliver" by Adam Ant

"God's Gonna Cut You Down" by Johnny Cash

"How I Could Just Kill A Man" (Simcoe's theme) by Rage Against the Machine



What would you add? Curate your own and share @JennyPopNet! Feel free to share mine!






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Based on the sci-fi mystery novels penned by James S.A. Corey (a nom de plume serving the endeavours of the writing team Daniel Abraham and Ty Franc, Leviathan Wakes) The Expanse titles have spread like flowering spores into a SyFy original series. Some two-hundred years in the future, a now-fully-habitable solar system serves as the ripe-for-rivalry mise-en-scène. Space provides the optimum landscape, especially space under colonial administration, to host not one, but all three classical conflicts of storytelling: man vs. man, man vs. nature, and man vs. himself.

It is in this expanse where a new breed of mankind operates in roughly the same rigid, egocentric and tenuous fashion that ancient mankind did when Earth was, essentially, his only domain; yet, now there is more territory to cover and more peoples to monitor, and control. If resources, greed, logistics, prejudices, power trips and egos proved existential beasties on one planet, whilst the endgame may remain the same when dealing with an entire solar system, the wider struggle proves a significant hurdle.

In The Expanse, dominant Earthlings, militant Martians and second-class Belters (those living and working in space, in the asteroid belt) clash like Real Housewives thrown together at a theme party. As the humans delicately co-exist, the United Nations - yes, still in "action" - persuades against a roiling warfare burgeoning between Earth and Mars, under the auspices of violet-cloaked U.N. exec Chrisjen Avasarala (played regally by Shohreh Aghdashloo whom, if you know your Portlandia, will recognize her from S2e3 as the visiting author at Women and Women First.).

In these potentially warring skies, Captain James Holden (Steven Strait) and his skeleton crew of the ice trawler Canterbury face a more immediate concern: who blew up their ship? Fortunately, Holden and his crew were saved from annihilation, as they all happened to be on a (set-up?) distress call, on-board a Canterbury short-range shuttle. So, who killed the Cant? The offending machine was a stealth vessel. Who has the funds for, and access to, a stealth vessel. The war-happy Martians, of course ... or was it?

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Maybe my focus was on all the supa kawai'i Sanrio merchandise. (Have you met Hello Kitty's friend, Gudetama the Lazy Egg?! Please, leave me alone.)

Maybe my focus was on a potential brush with greatness, a possible gallery-soirée with Stan Lee. Yet, to my eyes, cosplay this year at San Diego Comic-Con (S.D.ConvCtr 21-24 July 2016) appeared less prevalent than in years past. It seemed a hipper, more mellow element pervaded the Con. A cool, lackadaisical mood lingered on the floor, like an après-surf, red Solo cup party in Long Beach rather than a meticulously planned, high-energy, kitschy cocktail party in West Hollywood. If I had to associate a drink with the vibe, it would be a craft IPA, served by a chap uninterested in eye contact and sporting a well-worn Overlook Hotel tee, a Turnberry tweed cap and mutton chops.

Note: This blasé attitude does not include anything associated with Hall H, Rotten Tomatoes' Your Opinion Sucks! panel or SyFy's Will Arnett broadcast. This is strictly a floor observation.

This year's populace felt so casual it bordered on loitering outside Apu's Kwik-E-Mart. It felt like going to a Hallowe'en party, over which you've been salivating for weeks and a friendly surfer and his buds shows up with six-packs of Sculpin, Stone and Sierra Nevada, and no costumes, except the one guy ironically wearing a rubber unicorn mask. Somehow, even though it's a Hallowe'en party, they're so damn cool, you end up feeling like the dork because you were high-strung enough to play dress-up. Being the designated dork doesn't change your good-timin' frame o' mind, but you still feel slightly stoopid and a little awkward. At times, Comic-Con felt like that:  like you're Forrest Ackerman and Myrtle Jones at the first World Science Fiction Convention in 1939. (Right? Am I right? Ha! Cosplay humour.)

Without a doubt, at least from the perspective of Yours Truly, the scales tipped from intense cosplay to graphic tees and jeans. Even so, there was still enough cosplay to fill The Drunken Clam; yet, with a noticeable dip in mass participation. If you swung Jar Jar Binks by the ears, you'd hit less cosplay than not. As SDCC has reached such a phenomenally coveted stature, it has become a top-shelf entertainment score. A badge of honour, as it were, attracting A-listers, H-townies and their more desperately-casual following. As much as we love the "It" crowd, sometimes, unknowingly, they mow over the IT Crowd.

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I have always pondered what an experience it would have been to claim, casually over a tankard of Port, back at my fave, Yorkshire pub, The Gargoyle's Daughter, in my twee, riparian village of Notting-on-Scythe, “Yeah, cool. I was at this amazing party last week, in London. Yeah? Shakespeare was there. No, I didn’t get to talk to him, actually. But I saw him, yeah. Cool. Had loads of people around him. Dinna wannna bother him, yeah? He was hanging out by the wooden glove-forms, writing bits of dirty sonnet for some of the guests. Crazy, I tell you. Cool. Yeah, okay cool.”

Well, that never happened, not to Moi anyhoo. History is chock-a-block with visionaries we, today, will ne’er get to meet: Socrates, Didier, Dr. Samuel Johnson, Ben Frankin, Th. Jefferson, Mozart, Shakespeare, Mark Twain, Walt Disney, Jane Austen, Coco Chanel, Elon Musk, Bill Gates, Marie Antoinette (yes), Tim Burton and, natch, Stan Lee. So, I have to ask the universe, What the heck?! More precisely, what the heck, Stan Lee’s handlers?

So, you know when Wile E. Coyote sprints off a Sedona Red Rocks cliff, giving myopic, laser-focused chase to The Road Runner? The effort, the spirit, the heart woven into that sprint? Then, suddenly, Coyote realizes he’s mid-air, sans gravity, whips out his Bye-bye! sign and plummets to the desert floor with a great Splat!? So, that feeling. Mbeep-mbeep!

Allow me to be very clear here … I speak not ill of Stan Lee. Great Odin’s Raven, who would?! Stan Lee’s generous persona, infectious cheer and historic vision are the very reasons I have a beef of any kind today. I also do not speak ill of Chuck Jones Gallery. My post-event reconnaissance with an anonymous consultant, and pre-event communications with multiple, very kind individuals, assure me the gallery is not my personal Road Runner. My Road Runner, as it were, is the team of Stan Lee assistants and/or handlers at the, personally, much anticipated Chuck Jones Gallery event during San Diego Comic-Con 2016.

See, wha’ ha’ happen was …


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JennyPopcorn: Netflix New Releases

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    For years, Hong Kong detective Bennie Black has been trying to put ruthless crime lord Victor Wong out of business. When Bennie's niece gets ensnared in Wong's world, the gumshoe partners with a motormouthed American gambler to save her.
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    Stuck without dates for their cousin's wedding, Stangle brothers Mike and Dave turn to the Internet and soon attract a flood of offers. But the two women the siblings end up selecting turn out to be far more unbridled than expected.
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    Alicia Silverstone and Ryan Kwanten star in this heartfelt romantic comedy about what happens when puppy love goes to the dogs. After six years of marriage, successful physician Olive (Silverstone) and her struggling ice hockey hubby Clay (Kwanten) decide to call it quits. And although the split...

Theme from Savannah of Williamsburg: The Trials of Blackbeard and His Pirates (Book II)

Blackbeard's Chanty:"Me Cup is Broke!"Music by PBIII, lyrics by Jennifer Susannah Devore

Meet Miss JennyPop

Jennifer Susannah Devore

Jenny Pop is the acclaimed Author of the Savannah of Williamsburg series of books and The Darlings of Orange County. In addition, Jen is a prolific consumer of media and pop culture. Never leaving the house without her journal and fave Waterman pen, an old-fashioned, analog book (usually Hunter S. Thompson) and a fresh coat of lipstick, she is constantly on the hunt for fun, espresso, animation  and comics of any kind and always ready for an impromptu day at Disneyland. is a natural extension of  Jen's World; so, spend some time visiting. You'll have fun, she promises!

Meet The Darlings

The Darlings of Orange County

The sexy, cashmere beaches of southern California aren't always what they seem. The dirty little secret here is what it takes to survive. Everyone has a trick up their silk sleeve. Liz Lemon meets Parker Posey, Veronica Darling is smart enough to know what it takes and is willing to soil her soul to bring Hollywood to the California Riviera. The Darlings of Orange County is a salacious, hilarious, harrowing romp chock full of eco-terrorism, horse-racing scandals, weed deals and the obligatory lipstick-lesbian affair that inevitably leads to murder. It all climaxes in a white-knuckled, glitzy, celebrity-stacked Laguna Beach Film Premiere that spells success for Veronica Darling and trouble for her friends and family.

Meet Miss Savannah Squirrel

Savannah Prudence Squirrel

Savannah Prudence Squirrel

Meet Miss Savannah of Colonial Williamsburg in Virginia. Equal parts Amelia Earhart, Lucy Honeychurch, Scarlett O'Hara and Miss Piggy, Savannah is a scholar, adventurer and a lady. Moreover, she is a pebble in the silver-buckled shoe of injustice and with her best pals she is not a squirrel to challenge. She carries  the Magna Carta in one paw and the latest Parisian silk bag in her other. Whether fighting to end slavery, arguing for freedom of the press or scheming to end a duel, Miss Savannah does so with wit and persistence. Read more to meet her best friends and accomplices: Ichabod Wolfgang and Dante Marcus Pritchen. Prepare to also meet pirates, a Venetian fox and an Irish gull, The Commodore!


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Meet Miss Hannah

Hannah Hart, ghost dame of the Hotel del Coronado

Hannah Hart, ghost dame of the Hotel del Coronado

So, here's the low down, all you Joes and Janes ... I'm Hannah Hart, dead girl. Don't fret, it's actually a sweet dish being dead. Having perished in 1934 in a terrifically vicious accessories incident with actress Ida Lupino, I reside where I died: San Diego's gorgeous Hotel del Coronado. It ain't a bad gig at all, really! Great weather, swanky guests (not to mention a few fellow ghosties), amazing amenities, my own private turret overlooking the sea and all the java juice and giggle water I can handle; plus, these bartenders know how to make a Planter's Punch like nobody's business! See, I've been waiting for this Internet thing forever ... now, instead of slamming doors and moving lamps, I get to wag my tongue all I like at

Abyssinia, kids!