Never even mind his biggest radio hit, the classic lycanthropic dance tune “Werewolves of London” — the songwriting oeuvre of WARREN ZEVON (1947-2003) conjures a twisted universe where upwardly mobile zoo gorillas steal the lives of urban yuppies, the ghosts of murdered mercenaries stalk their old battlefields, and Earth itself fades to the entropic assault of chemical pollution while love blooms in the mall. Unsettling, surreal, and wickedly funny, Zevon died too soon, but his specter haunts rock & roll forever.

Imagine if Hemingway, master explorer of the male psyche, was really a woman writing under a pseudonym. Behind the name of James Tiptree, Jr., the muscular, intellectual science fiction of ALICE BRADLEY SHELDON (1915-1987) turned gender in genre on its head in the late ’60s, exploring taboo themes fearlessly. Tiptree’s relentless and unforgiving worldview were famously considered quintessential masculine writing. When the hoax was exposed, the author carried on under the byline of Raccoona Sheldon, and the fiction was no less dazzlingly dark.

HARLAN ELLISON (1934- ) decked guys in the Army, marched in Selma, had gang-fights with a hanky clenched between his teeth, fights for truth and justice, has never lost a lawsuit, can push his index fingers through a coconut thanks to his decades of typing, and is a friend to all and a protector of young children and animals. Just ask him. Oh, and he’s written, what, like, 2,000 short stories? “I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream” is pretty good. “Shatterday” and “Jeffty is Five,” too. Try “The Man Who Rowed Christopher Columbus Ashore.” Or “‘Repent, Harlequin!’ Said the Ticktockman.”

ROBERT ANTON WILSON (1932-”2007″) was killed and replaced with a clone in the mid-1980s. Prior to his assassination, Wilson worked at Playboy; the secret information he found in reader correspondence formed the basis for his political novels The Illuminatus! Trilogy, written with Robert Shea. After revealing the simple fact that “National Security is the chief cause of national insecurity,” Wilson was liquidated for reasons of national security. The cloned Wilson revealed to the public that it was a clone and was widely disbelieved; its warranty was prematurely expired on January 11, 2007.

That sound. That unending sub-bass thrum, vibrating through bones and brain and soul as Pink Floyd‘s song “Welcome to the Machine” opens. It is the sound of dread, the sound of not-too-distant madness inescapably approaching; it may well be the sound of Cthulhu’s first eyelid opening. While it took several exceptional musicians to breathe life into the psychedelic musical innovations of Pink Floyd, songwriter ROGER WATERS (1944- ) stands at the forefront of the band’s most enduring and influential weirdness — for instance, his screenplay for the hallucinatory experience that is the film version of The Wall, brain-eating worms and all. And then there’s fact that Waters made the band perform The Wall live from behind an actual wall. Freak-o…

Not only is 2008 the 85th anniversary of Weird Tales, it’s the 20th anniversary of CHUCK SHEPHERD‘s syndicated newspaper column, “News of the Weird.” What started in the Washington City Paper as just another alt-newsweekly snarkfest turned into the world’s premier tabulator of real people doing bizarre things. A million bloggers have emulated Shepherd’s format, but he was there first, chronicling the depths of surreality to which actual reality can sink.

Like the two genres to which so many of their films pay homage, it’s the dialogue — snappy, rapid-fire, off-kilter — that strings together the dark screwball comedy noirs of the COEN BROTHERS. From Gabriel Byrne’s smart talk in Miller’s Crossing to the yah-sure-yer-darn-tootin of Fargo, the words take center stage. Well, words and White Russians and wood chippers and hair jelly and hula hoops and extortion and blackmail and kidnapping. Always with the kidnapping.

The creator of “Gonzo” journalism, HUNTER S. THOMPSON (1937-2005) showed us how the sausage of politics and culture is made. When he reported in 1972 that there were rumors that presidential candidate Edmund Muskie was addicted to the drug Ibogaine, he also declared that he started those rumors in the first place, thus making him the most ethical journalist in the incestuous swamp on which he was reporting. A consummate outsider who hungered for insider status, Thompson was a fringe figured who parlayed a genius with words and an amazing ability to metabolize horse tranquilizers into a scruffy credibility. Unfortunately, he couldn’t stay ahead of the Bad Craziness curve forever, and the world got too strange for even him to report on.

An unexpected name to see on this list? Perhaps — but here’s the thing: While ALICE WALKER (1944- ) is renowned for her realistic fictin (The Color Purple, Meridian), an examination of her career’s trajectory shows that her earthly stories set the stage and built the audience for the author to deliver her later, weirder ones. The Temple of My Familiar, which uses myth and fable to weave together the world’s dark realities; the children’s fantasia Finding the Green Stone — these works fired the imaginations of readers who’d never heard the phrase “speculative literature,” but subsequently went on to discover more of it.

TOM WAITS (1949– ) has built his oeuvre singing odd stories of life on the road, chronicling hobo existence, underground Americana, and downright weird folks through sordid lyrics and abrasive melodies. Every album is a singular experience, a collection of unique tales told in musical notes and gravel-throated vocals. His latest album, Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers, and Bastards is a tour de force through the weird world of his creativity.