Josh Hilden's Blog, page 11
November 4, 2016
Josh Flaws & All Part 11 “I’m always Angry”
“You want to know my secret, Cap? I’m always angry.” – Dr. Bruce Banner
This is the last of the FLAWS AND ALL essays, and I saved the one I’m most ashamed of for last. This is the one that dominates and overshadows all of the other flaws. I am a very angry man. When I say angry, I don’t mean I transform into a giant green, purple-pants-wearing rage monster. That would be kinda badass especially if I could break Dayton
Yes, break Dayton and watch the ruins burn… Josh, smash!
Anyway, I admit I have a temper, but it’s a really passive aggressive temper, which turns me into a dark and brooding bastard. I don't hit people, I don’t break things, and except on the most extreme occasions, I don’t yell. What I do is much more pathetic. I stew in my anger and allow it to permeate every other part of my life. The anger builds and condenses until all I have is this black hole of irrational rage buried deep in my liver sucking all the joy out of my life. I suspect it looks like a demonic magic 8 ball.
I thought for a long time I could control and redirect my anger, and for a while I did. But as the years went by and the symptoms of my bipolar disorder increased, it became harder and harder to control the anger let alone shunt it to a place where it couldn’t hurt anyone. It all reached a climax in the spring of 2011 when I decided to leave my wife.
Let me rewind and give you the entire story.
In 2007 I drove my family into financial ruin because I was too proud to tell my wife how bad our financial situation was. We collapsed and were forced to declare bankruptcy, but in the process, I had a nervous breakdown and attempted suicide for the second and final time in my life. When the dust settled my bipolar depression was in full bloom and my anger toward my wife was growing unchecked.
Pause
My wife is wonderful, and she did nothing wrong and deserved none of the negative emotions I directed towards her. The problem was she was intertwined with the things making me so upset, and she was also the one person I was sure would love me no matter what and therefore she was the lightning rod for my darkness. I’m still so ashamed of what happened.
Unpause
Everything that happened—the car breaking down, the kids acting up, the overdrawn bank account, and the constant plumbing and electrical issues I blamed on her. It was her fault we had the seven-year loan on the car as opposed to the five even though it would’ve only been twenty dollars more a month. It was her fault we'd been suckered into buying a house that was falling apart, over priced, and beyond our means. None of these were her fault, but in my mind it all was.
I told you my passive aggressive anger makes me a real bastard.
In the spring of 2011, my internal anger destroying me. I told my wife I wanted a divorce. It was a horrible day of tears, anger on both sides, and conversation. The conversation was the important part. We hadn’t actually talked in years and in the end that talk saved us. Anger and sadness were vented, and when we were done, I knew I still loved her more than anyone in the world, and that none of my problems were her doing.
I want to say after that cathartic night everything was better and I’ve had a better handle on my anger for the last five and a half years. I wish I could, but if I did it’d be a lie. I fight my anger and the accompanying self-loathing every hour of every day. Has it gotten easier to deal with? Yes, between my medication and keeping a constant open dialog with my wife things are better. But I will never be able to let my guard down. I will always be angry and because of that I will always be cautious.
This is the last of the FLAWS AND ALL essays, and I saved the one I’m most ashamed of for last. This is the one that dominates and overshadows all of the other flaws. I am a very angry man. When I say angry, I don’t mean I transform into a giant green, purple-pants-wearing rage monster. That would be kinda badass especially if I could break Dayton
Yes, break Dayton and watch the ruins burn… Josh, smash!
Anyway, I admit I have a temper, but it’s a really passive aggressive temper, which turns me into a dark and brooding bastard. I don't hit people, I don’t break things, and except on the most extreme occasions, I don’t yell. What I do is much more pathetic. I stew in my anger and allow it to permeate every other part of my life. The anger builds and condenses until all I have is this black hole of irrational rage buried deep in my liver sucking all the joy out of my life. I suspect it looks like a demonic magic 8 ball.
I thought for a long time I could control and redirect my anger, and for a while I did. But as the years went by and the symptoms of my bipolar disorder increased, it became harder and harder to control the anger let alone shunt it to a place where it couldn’t hurt anyone. It all reached a climax in the spring of 2011 when I decided to leave my wife.
Let me rewind and give you the entire story.
In 2007 I drove my family into financial ruin because I was too proud to tell my wife how bad our financial situation was. We collapsed and were forced to declare bankruptcy, but in the process, I had a nervous breakdown and attempted suicide for the second and final time in my life. When the dust settled my bipolar depression was in full bloom and my anger toward my wife was growing unchecked.
Pause
My wife is wonderful, and she did nothing wrong and deserved none of the negative emotions I directed towards her. The problem was she was intertwined with the things making me so upset, and she was also the one person I was sure would love me no matter what and therefore she was the lightning rod for my darkness. I’m still so ashamed of what happened.
Unpause
Everything that happened—the car breaking down, the kids acting up, the overdrawn bank account, and the constant plumbing and electrical issues I blamed on her. It was her fault we had the seven-year loan on the car as opposed to the five even though it would’ve only been twenty dollars more a month. It was her fault we'd been suckered into buying a house that was falling apart, over priced, and beyond our means. None of these were her fault, but in my mind it all was.
I told you my passive aggressive anger makes me a real bastard.
In the spring of 2011, my internal anger destroying me. I told my wife I wanted a divorce. It was a horrible day of tears, anger on both sides, and conversation. The conversation was the important part. We hadn’t actually talked in years and in the end that talk saved us. Anger and sadness were vented, and when we were done, I knew I still loved her more than anyone in the world, and that none of my problems were her doing.
I want to say after that cathartic night everything was better and I’ve had a better handle on my anger for the last five and a half years. I wish I could, but if I did it’d be a lie. I fight my anger and the accompanying self-loathing every hour of every day. Has it gotten easier to deal with? Yes, between my medication and keeping a constant open dialog with my wife things are better. But I will never be able to let my guard down. I will always be angry and because of that I will always be cautious.
Everybody’s Working For The Weekend Part 6 “Working For The Man”
From the fall of 1998 to the spring of 2001 I was a stay at home father. To say it was the best job I’ve ever had other than being a writer is an understatement. Having every day with my children was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.
Unfortunately, in 2000 we were seduced into buying a home well beyond our means, and in 2001 I was forced to seek full-time employment in order to keep our home and not have to live in a van down by the river.
My grandfather was a politician in our town. He’d been on the local city council for several years and eventually made a run at the state house of representatives. He never won the house seat, but he made a good showing in the election. In 2001 I put in an application to work in the city maintenance department as a seasonal employee. I won’t treat you like an idiot, the only reason I got the job working for the city was because my grandfather put in a word for me. But hey, I’m okay with that. I was more than qualified for the position and once I had it, there was never any complaints about my work. The complaints were because of who I was related to, but I’ll get to that in a bit.
So, how was it working for the city? Well, you know the whole thing about city employees being lazy slackers? It’s one hundred percent true in regards to the city I worked for. My assignment was a combination of the city recreation center and water park.
Pause
That fucking water park. I lived in the city when it was built and oh my gods what a cluster fuck. Built with mob labor and taxpayer money that shit show was constantly breaking down. The multimillion dollar facility stayed open for a whole seven years. Then they closed it, and it’s lain rotting on Main St. for the last nine years.
Unpause
My duties working for the city during the summer were pretty straight forward. I cleaned pools, restrooms, buildings, and repaired or painted as needed. Also, I got to run those giant fucking lawnmowers and use the best weed whackers ever built by man. Did you ever see SCOUTS GUIDE TO THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE? The one the main character uses at the end of the movie is a toy compared to the ones I played with.
Of course, when you work for the government everything is politics.
The first problem came from who my grandfather was. Several members of the maintenance department were convinced I was a narc being sent in to catch them fucking around and doing the things they actually did as opposed to what they were supposed to do. After that myth was dispelled, the problem came from the direction of the half dozen other seasonal employees. They knew I wanted a full-time city job and they figured I had the in. Then there was the fact that I actually did my fucking job as opposed to joining the other employees, the ones with full-time jobs, in their laziness and general shitty work ethic.
This is not me saying I’m some perfect employee. At best I’m an adequate worker. I like taking extra breaks and long lunches. I love being able to sit around and shoot the shit with my buddies. But here's the thing, we were all vying for a single $20.00 an hour full-time city job with benefits in the future. When you're doing that, maybe you should make an extra fucking effort.
At the end of summer 2001 two things happened. The twin towers fell, and I was the only seasonal employee asked to stay on until the end of the year. I was at work when the towers fell and I saw the second plane hit in real time. We were going on our first break and walking past the reception desk when we heard the Today Show cast talking on the television. The first tower had just been hit, and they were running that now iconic grainy footage of the impact. We stood around the desk watching in stunned silence when the second plane hit. We spent the rest of the day doing nothing but watching the television in our break room. I’ll never forget it and I shouldn’t.
At the end of the year, my then Maintenance Director and the Parks and Recreation Director came to me and told me I could have a job working at the rec center until the spring when I’d be back in the maintenance department. The job at the center was so boring I wanted to blow my brains out. All I did was monitor the various activity rooms for six to eight hours a day, but it kept me employed until the next spring when I returned to maintenance.
My second and final stint in the maintenance department wasn’t as good as the first. There were personality conflicts and backbiting to a degree I hadn’t experienced since my tenure with the Dayton Daily News. I also learned the dirty secret about how the city ran, it was all based on who you knew… through the church. Because apparently unless you're a member of an approved church, you're never going to advance in the city.
A new seasonal worker started with us that year. His name was Eric, and he was a former criminal who went to church to my boss. I knew then, and there I’d been cast aside for new holier employee. I worked just as hard that season and was kept on with Eric at the end. I didn’t go back to working for the rec center at the end of the year. I’d have rather been anally violated by an icecicle.
Instead, I went back to Meijer for my second stint.
I never went back to the city. When the next season started, I was hired back but never started. When I went in to fill out my paperwork my supervisor, not the director, picked a fight with me and in my anger, I told him to shove the job up his fat ass.
Interesting addendum, in 2008 a full-time job in maintenance opened up, and I took the civil service test. I scored fourth out of two hundred and interviewed with my old director. It didn’t go well and a month later Eric, who scored fifty-seventh, got the job. Of course, when the economy crashed six months later he and a dozen others were laid off.
Serves them right.
Unfortunately, in 2000 we were seduced into buying a home well beyond our means, and in 2001 I was forced to seek full-time employment in order to keep our home and not have to live in a van down by the river.
My grandfather was a politician in our town. He’d been on the local city council for several years and eventually made a run at the state house of representatives. He never won the house seat, but he made a good showing in the election. In 2001 I put in an application to work in the city maintenance department as a seasonal employee. I won’t treat you like an idiot, the only reason I got the job working for the city was because my grandfather put in a word for me. But hey, I’m okay with that. I was more than qualified for the position and once I had it, there was never any complaints about my work. The complaints were because of who I was related to, but I’ll get to that in a bit.
So, how was it working for the city? Well, you know the whole thing about city employees being lazy slackers? It’s one hundred percent true in regards to the city I worked for. My assignment was a combination of the city recreation center and water park.
Pause
That fucking water park. I lived in the city when it was built and oh my gods what a cluster fuck. Built with mob labor and taxpayer money that shit show was constantly breaking down. The multimillion dollar facility stayed open for a whole seven years. Then they closed it, and it’s lain rotting on Main St. for the last nine years.
Unpause
My duties working for the city during the summer were pretty straight forward. I cleaned pools, restrooms, buildings, and repaired or painted as needed. Also, I got to run those giant fucking lawnmowers and use the best weed whackers ever built by man. Did you ever see SCOUTS GUIDE TO THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE? The one the main character uses at the end of the movie is a toy compared to the ones I played with.
Of course, when you work for the government everything is politics.
The first problem came from who my grandfather was. Several members of the maintenance department were convinced I was a narc being sent in to catch them fucking around and doing the things they actually did as opposed to what they were supposed to do. After that myth was dispelled, the problem came from the direction of the half dozen other seasonal employees. They knew I wanted a full-time city job and they figured I had the in. Then there was the fact that I actually did my fucking job as opposed to joining the other employees, the ones with full-time jobs, in their laziness and general shitty work ethic.
This is not me saying I’m some perfect employee. At best I’m an adequate worker. I like taking extra breaks and long lunches. I love being able to sit around and shoot the shit with my buddies. But here's the thing, we were all vying for a single $20.00 an hour full-time city job with benefits in the future. When you're doing that, maybe you should make an extra fucking effort.
At the end of summer 2001 two things happened. The twin towers fell, and I was the only seasonal employee asked to stay on until the end of the year. I was at work when the towers fell and I saw the second plane hit in real time. We were going on our first break and walking past the reception desk when we heard the Today Show cast talking on the television. The first tower had just been hit, and they were running that now iconic grainy footage of the impact. We stood around the desk watching in stunned silence when the second plane hit. We spent the rest of the day doing nothing but watching the television in our break room. I’ll never forget it and I shouldn’t.
At the end of the year, my then Maintenance Director and the Parks and Recreation Director came to me and told me I could have a job working at the rec center until the spring when I’d be back in the maintenance department. The job at the center was so boring I wanted to blow my brains out. All I did was monitor the various activity rooms for six to eight hours a day, but it kept me employed until the next spring when I returned to maintenance.
My second and final stint in the maintenance department wasn’t as good as the first. There were personality conflicts and backbiting to a degree I hadn’t experienced since my tenure with the Dayton Daily News. I also learned the dirty secret about how the city ran, it was all based on who you knew… through the church. Because apparently unless you're a member of an approved church, you're never going to advance in the city.
A new seasonal worker started with us that year. His name was Eric, and he was a former criminal who went to church to my boss. I knew then, and there I’d been cast aside for new holier employee. I worked just as hard that season and was kept on with Eric at the end. I didn’t go back to working for the rec center at the end of the year. I’d have rather been anally violated by an icecicle.
Instead, I went back to Meijer for my second stint.
I never went back to the city. When the next season started, I was hired back but never started. When I went in to fill out my paperwork my supervisor, not the director, picked a fight with me and in my anger, I told him to shove the job up his fat ass.
Interesting addendum, in 2008 a full-time job in maintenance opened up, and I took the civil service test. I scored fourth out of two hundred and interviewed with my old director. It didn’t go well and a month later Eric, who scored fifty-seventh, got the job. Of course, when the economy crashed six months later he and a dozen others were laid off.
Serves them right.
November 1, 2016
Flaws and All #10 “I’m Impatient”
“I WANT IT NOW!” – Verruca Salt
I may be the most impatient son of a bitch I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing. I’m not exaggerating when I make that statement. Impatience has been a hallmark of my character since I was a little boy. And when I say impatience I don’t mean the normal kid excited for Christmas morning level either I mean the make myself puke kind of impatience.
When I was in the first grade, my mother had her issues and went to stay with my grandmother in Dayton, Ohio for a few weeks. She took my infant unnamed brother and left me alone with my father. It was an amazing time of staying up entirely too late and grilling stakes in the rain. That all came to a self-induced, crashing halt three days before my mother came home.
The GI JOE comic book and companion television cartoon had entered my life not long before my mom left and it was all my friends and I could talk about. To this day GI JOE is probably my number one childhood pop culture touchstone after Star Trek, so you can imagine how excited I was when the commercials for the toy line started airing on TV. When Mom told me on one of our nightly phone calls that she’d bought me a GI JOE Action figure in Dayton, I nearly pissed myself.
If she’d told me the night before coming home everything would have been fine. But in thinking, she was doing me a favor by telling me as soon as she bought it she actually took an emotional haymaker at me and never knew it. That is NOT to say I’m blaming my mother for what happened next, for fuck sake she did something incredibly generous for me. It’s not her fault I have the nerves and patience of a jittery hyper-caffeinated hummingbird.
The first night of anticipation was awesome. I reread all of my GI JOE comics a hundred times and drew picture after picture depicting my interpretation of the subject matter. The second day wasn’t so good. I spent the day listless and jumpy at the same time. All I could think of was the action figure and how awesome it was going to be to have and play with it. That’s still barely within the normal spectrum of childhood impatience.
What happened on day three crossed the line.
I remember it clearly. It was Monday and therefore I was in school. We were nearing the end of the day and my best friend, Jason’s mom Laura came to pick him up early. While she was there, I asked her if my mom was home. They were also best friends and lived right across the street from us, so it was a valid question to ask her. She said Mom was home and that yes she had my brand new GI JOE action figure. That boils and ghouls was when the anxiety and impatience spiked dramatically.
How?
I vomited ten minutes later all over the classroom floor.
After that, my impatience manifested in many interesting ways. Fear, rage, sickness, and anxiety being the primary venues those manifestations chose. Most people hate waiting, but for me, it’s enough that if the line at a theater or restaurant is too long, I’ll just say fuck it and walk away. In the process, I may or may not break something or yell at an unsuspecting companion.
I know it makes me sound like a petulant child, but I swear I do my best to control it. For every one instance when I lose my control and make a complete jackass out of myself there are a dozen times I hold it together. That’s not an excuse. There is no excuse for such base and immature behavior, I’m just telling you how things are.
Nothing has been affected by my impatience, other than my poor, suffering and amazing family, more than my writing. One of the main reasons I was never able to jumpstart my career for so many years was because the process of finishing a manuscript drove me insane. I was convinced I’d never be able to write a complete book from start to finish without going insane. Obviously based on the amount of wordage I’ve spewed into the universe in the last four years that fear was unfounded.
Still, impatience permeates my life. From my hatred of cooking to my loathing of the time it takes to do the laundry, my everyday life has been saturated by impatience-induced problems. It’s the time it takes to do normal everyday activities like shaving and making the bed that drives me to reenact the face-shredding scene from Poltergeist, not the actual task.
It’s all so tiring and mind breaking.
I may be the most impatient son of a bitch I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing. I’m not exaggerating when I make that statement. Impatience has been a hallmark of my character since I was a little boy. And when I say impatience I don’t mean the normal kid excited for Christmas morning level either I mean the make myself puke kind of impatience.
When I was in the first grade, my mother had her issues and went to stay with my grandmother in Dayton, Ohio for a few weeks. She took my infant unnamed brother and left me alone with my father. It was an amazing time of staying up entirely too late and grilling stakes in the rain. That all came to a self-induced, crashing halt three days before my mother came home.
The GI JOE comic book and companion television cartoon had entered my life not long before my mom left and it was all my friends and I could talk about. To this day GI JOE is probably my number one childhood pop culture touchstone after Star Trek, so you can imagine how excited I was when the commercials for the toy line started airing on TV. When Mom told me on one of our nightly phone calls that she’d bought me a GI JOE Action figure in Dayton, I nearly pissed myself.
If she’d told me the night before coming home everything would have been fine. But in thinking, she was doing me a favor by telling me as soon as she bought it she actually took an emotional haymaker at me and never knew it. That is NOT to say I’m blaming my mother for what happened next, for fuck sake she did something incredibly generous for me. It’s not her fault I have the nerves and patience of a jittery hyper-caffeinated hummingbird.
The first night of anticipation was awesome. I reread all of my GI JOE comics a hundred times and drew picture after picture depicting my interpretation of the subject matter. The second day wasn’t so good. I spent the day listless and jumpy at the same time. All I could think of was the action figure and how awesome it was going to be to have and play with it. That’s still barely within the normal spectrum of childhood impatience.
What happened on day three crossed the line.
I remember it clearly. It was Monday and therefore I was in school. We were nearing the end of the day and my best friend, Jason’s mom Laura came to pick him up early. While she was there, I asked her if my mom was home. They were also best friends and lived right across the street from us, so it was a valid question to ask her. She said Mom was home and that yes she had my brand new GI JOE action figure. That boils and ghouls was when the anxiety and impatience spiked dramatically.
How?
I vomited ten minutes later all over the classroom floor.
After that, my impatience manifested in many interesting ways. Fear, rage, sickness, and anxiety being the primary venues those manifestations chose. Most people hate waiting, but for me, it’s enough that if the line at a theater or restaurant is too long, I’ll just say fuck it and walk away. In the process, I may or may not break something or yell at an unsuspecting companion.
I know it makes me sound like a petulant child, but I swear I do my best to control it. For every one instance when I lose my control and make a complete jackass out of myself there are a dozen times I hold it together. That’s not an excuse. There is no excuse for such base and immature behavior, I’m just telling you how things are.
Nothing has been affected by my impatience, other than my poor, suffering and amazing family, more than my writing. One of the main reasons I was never able to jumpstart my career for so many years was because the process of finishing a manuscript drove me insane. I was convinced I’d never be able to write a complete book from start to finish without going insane. Obviously based on the amount of wordage I’ve spewed into the universe in the last four years that fear was unfounded.
Still, impatience permeates my life. From my hatred of cooking to my loathing of the time it takes to do the laundry, my everyday life has been saturated by impatience-induced problems. It’s the time it takes to do normal everyday activities like shaving and making the bed that drives me to reenact the face-shredding scene from Poltergeist, not the actual task.
It’s all so tiring and mind breaking.
October 31, 2016
The Bad Movies I Love #5 Jason X
He just wants his machete back!” – Dieter Perez
For most people, 2001 is the year the world changed. And let’s not beat around the bush it was. In 2001 we were all knocked on our asses and I fear things will never be the same again. I mean seriously who thought it was a good idea for Jason Voorhees to become the lovechild of James Cameron and Paul Verhoeven?
What, you thought I was talking about 9-11?
Why the hell would I do that?
For me, 2001 was the year the most batshit, awesome, crazy horror movie ever came out—Jason X.
Jason X is the tenth installment in the Friday the 13th film series and stars Kane Hodder in his fourth and final appearance as the undead, mass murderer Jason Voorhees. Let’s tell the truth and shame devil. My paternal grandma used that term all the time, and I will NEVER tire of it. This movie is all about the indomitable Kane Hodder. I’ve met Mr. Hodder at a few different geek and horror-centric conventions over the years, and the man is just great. He treats his fans like friends and has a laugh that could light up a room.
I’m not saying I’ve had a crush on him since I first met him, but I’m not NOT saying it either.
Jason X was only able to be made because of the struggle to get Freddy Vs. Jason made. With production of the eventual record-breaking film stuck in the quagmire (Giggity) New Line Cinema needed to capitalize on the franchise they’d bought from Paramount years before.
Our hero Jason Voorhees is finally captured by a United States government who got their shit together and realized he could not be killed. About damn time. I mean seriously how many times does he have to come back and kill a dozen dumbasses before that becomes obvious? For some reason, he’s incarcerated at the Crystal Lake Research Facility. Why is there a government high-tech research complex in Crystal Lake? Why is this a thing and can I get a job there?
The movie opens in 2010 with a government scientist who decides the best way to contain him is to place Jason in frozen stasis. Considering there have been after several failed attempts to kill Jason since his capture, I actually think this is a really good idea—if you can’t kill him then contain him. Treat his zombie ass like North Korea, but maybe not let him get a nuclear weapon—that’s foreshadowing by the way. Of course, the military fucks it all up because they want to the secret to his perpetual cellular regeneration.
PAUSE!
Why are the military always portrayed as a bunch of thick-headed, over confident, neandertal idiots in sci-fi/horror movies? Yes, I can think of exceptions to this, World War Z and Cloverfield spring to mind. But by and large, you get assholes like these and the idiot Americans in 28 Weeks Later.
Unpause.
The soldiers try to take Jason from the facility but end up accidentally releasing him. Panic ensues and only one of the Crystal Lake personal, Rowan played by the amazing Lexa Doig, manages to keep her head. Slaughter and chaos envelopes the building climax with Rowan managing to get Jason into the cryo pod. He punctures the fluid reserve and both of them are thrust into suspended animation.
We then jump the timeline, and many would say one massive shark later, 445 years. It’s now 2455, and the Earth has become too polluted to support life. So, we are informed in vague and somewhat irritating ways that the human race has moved to a new planet named Earth-Two.
Can the creators of the mid 90s television show EARTH 2 sue?
We join the spaceship Grendel and the members of an academic mission from Earth-Two to explore and catalog the ruins on Earth. A group of university students enters the abandoned yet still powered Crystal Lake Research Complex, and they find the pod still containing the bodies of Rowan and Jason. So, of course, our future geniuses decide to take them back up with the rest of the relics they’d gathered on the surface.
Using nanotechnology, the intrepid explorers reanimate Rowan repairing all the cellular damage and returning her to perfect health. The nanobot scenes are pretty damn cool. Jason is pronounced unrevivable, and they leave his corpsicle in the spaceships morgue. The financial backer of the expedition, Dieter Perez, realizes who they’ve recovered and determines he could make a pretty penny selling the remains to the right collector.
The only thing worse than the military in sci-fi/horror movies is the egomaniacal billionaire.
While we enjoy the obligatory Friday the 13th sex scene, Jason reanimates and kills Adrienne the science student working in the morgue. And boils and ghouls her death is fucking amazeballs, easily my favorite Jason kill ever. Jason grabs her by the back of the head and plunges her face into a basin filled with liquid nitrogen. We see from an underwater POV her screams stop and her head freeze solid in a matter of seconds. This is followed by Jason pulling her head out and smashing it into a thousand pieces.
BAM!!!
After this awesomeness, Jason takes a giant knife from the morgue and heads out to play skeeball, I mean hunt humans. I think Jason Vorhees and Bender Bending Rodriguez would have been best friends. His first dust-up is with the couple having sex where he kills one and the other gets away. After that he heads to the ships’ virtual reality game room, we must not call it a Holo-Deck precious or the Trekkers will gets us, where he slaughters a group of space marines and students playing an action adventure shooter game.
Apparently, a man can’t get his HALO on with Jason chopping his head off in the future.
The Grendel attempts to dock at the space station Solaris, but Jason hacks the pilot to death. With no pilot at the helm, the Grendel plows right through the station destroying it and damaging half of the Grendel and sends it careening through space. In the chaos, Jason reclaims his machete from the crew and leaves the substitute weapon on the ground.
With the ship damaged the survivors decide it’s time to get the fuck off and head for the shuttle. But Jason has a different idea of how things should go down. Jason picks them off one at a time as they prepare to leave which results in one of the terrified survivors trying to launch the shuttle before it’s ready. The shuttle crashes into the Grendel’s hull and explodes leaving the remaining survivors stranded.
Then we get the the greatest, what the fuck? batshit moment in Friday the 13th history.
On board, the Grendel is a robotic grad student and his creation KM-14. KM is female, and it’s pretty clear her creator fucks her regularly. Also, she has no nipples. No reason to mention that other than because it’s kinda fascinating when he tries to giver her artificial nipple attachments. KM gets upgraded to a military robot while Jason is slaughtering the passengers and crew and what we get is a Jason Vs. Robot throwdown. KM legit kicks Jason’s ass as she blows bits and pieces off his body with her advanced weapons and overpowers him with her robot attributes.
Not since Rosey have I wanted to fuck a robot so bad… STOP SHAMMING ME!!!
With Jason out of commission, the survivors send a distress signal which is answered. In preparation for the rescue, they start setting charges to separate the crippled sections of the Grendel. While they are working, the damaged medical bay uses its nanobots to reanimate Jason. Not only do the little robots bring Jason back to consciousness they make him exponentially stronger. As my grandfather said, “I love it because they made Jason the Terminator.” I can’t say I disagree.
Jason kicks KM’s ass by knocking her head right off her shoulders, and he moves to kill the remaining survivors. But at the last minute, one of the survivors uses one of the charges to blow up the corridor giving the survivors a few seconds of breathing room. They use the time to create a solid holographic simulation of classic Crystal Lake to distract Jason. Unfortunately, Jason sees through it and continues toward the now trapped survivors. But they’ve bought enough time for the rest of the charges to be set, and the ship is separated. One survivor uses his EVA suit to divert Jason and the two of them plunge into the atmosphere of Earth Two.
The final shot of the movie is from the perspective of the ground side on Earth-Two, which is apparently a paradise. We see two teens beside a lake who observe what they believe is a falling star as Jason’s charred mask sinks to the bottom of the lake.
I don’t care what anyone says, I love this movie. It’s a balls to the wall rollercoaster ride of fun, and I highly recommend it to horror and science fiction fans alike.
For most people, 2001 is the year the world changed. And let’s not beat around the bush it was. In 2001 we were all knocked on our asses and I fear things will never be the same again. I mean seriously who thought it was a good idea for Jason Voorhees to become the lovechild of James Cameron and Paul Verhoeven?
What, you thought I was talking about 9-11?
Why the hell would I do that?
For me, 2001 was the year the most batshit, awesome, crazy horror movie ever came out—Jason X.
Jason X is the tenth installment in the Friday the 13th film series and stars Kane Hodder in his fourth and final appearance as the undead, mass murderer Jason Voorhees. Let’s tell the truth and shame devil. My paternal grandma used that term all the time, and I will NEVER tire of it. This movie is all about the indomitable Kane Hodder. I’ve met Mr. Hodder at a few different geek and horror-centric conventions over the years, and the man is just great. He treats his fans like friends and has a laugh that could light up a room.
I’m not saying I’ve had a crush on him since I first met him, but I’m not NOT saying it either.
Jason X was only able to be made because of the struggle to get Freddy Vs. Jason made. With production of the eventual record-breaking film stuck in the quagmire (Giggity) New Line Cinema needed to capitalize on the franchise they’d bought from Paramount years before.
Our hero Jason Voorhees is finally captured by a United States government who got their shit together and realized he could not be killed. About damn time. I mean seriously how many times does he have to come back and kill a dozen dumbasses before that becomes obvious? For some reason, he’s incarcerated at the Crystal Lake Research Facility. Why is there a government high-tech research complex in Crystal Lake? Why is this a thing and can I get a job there?
The movie opens in 2010 with a government scientist who decides the best way to contain him is to place Jason in frozen stasis. Considering there have been after several failed attempts to kill Jason since his capture, I actually think this is a really good idea—if you can’t kill him then contain him. Treat his zombie ass like North Korea, but maybe not let him get a nuclear weapon—that’s foreshadowing by the way. Of course, the military fucks it all up because they want to the secret to his perpetual cellular regeneration.
PAUSE!
Why are the military always portrayed as a bunch of thick-headed, over confident, neandertal idiots in sci-fi/horror movies? Yes, I can think of exceptions to this, World War Z and Cloverfield spring to mind. But by and large, you get assholes like these and the idiot Americans in 28 Weeks Later.
Unpause.
The soldiers try to take Jason from the facility but end up accidentally releasing him. Panic ensues and only one of the Crystal Lake personal, Rowan played by the amazing Lexa Doig, manages to keep her head. Slaughter and chaos envelopes the building climax with Rowan managing to get Jason into the cryo pod. He punctures the fluid reserve and both of them are thrust into suspended animation.
We then jump the timeline, and many would say one massive shark later, 445 years. It’s now 2455, and the Earth has become too polluted to support life. So, we are informed in vague and somewhat irritating ways that the human race has moved to a new planet named Earth-Two.
Can the creators of the mid 90s television show EARTH 2 sue?
We join the spaceship Grendel and the members of an academic mission from Earth-Two to explore and catalog the ruins on Earth. A group of university students enters the abandoned yet still powered Crystal Lake Research Complex, and they find the pod still containing the bodies of Rowan and Jason. So, of course, our future geniuses decide to take them back up with the rest of the relics they’d gathered on the surface.
Using nanotechnology, the intrepid explorers reanimate Rowan repairing all the cellular damage and returning her to perfect health. The nanobot scenes are pretty damn cool. Jason is pronounced unrevivable, and they leave his corpsicle in the spaceships morgue. The financial backer of the expedition, Dieter Perez, realizes who they’ve recovered and determines he could make a pretty penny selling the remains to the right collector.
The only thing worse than the military in sci-fi/horror movies is the egomaniacal billionaire.
While we enjoy the obligatory Friday the 13th sex scene, Jason reanimates and kills Adrienne the science student working in the morgue. And boils and ghouls her death is fucking amazeballs, easily my favorite Jason kill ever. Jason grabs her by the back of the head and plunges her face into a basin filled with liquid nitrogen. We see from an underwater POV her screams stop and her head freeze solid in a matter of seconds. This is followed by Jason pulling her head out and smashing it into a thousand pieces.
BAM!!!
After this awesomeness, Jason takes a giant knife from the morgue and heads out to play skeeball, I mean hunt humans. I think Jason Vorhees and Bender Bending Rodriguez would have been best friends. His first dust-up is with the couple having sex where he kills one and the other gets away. After that he heads to the ships’ virtual reality game room, we must not call it a Holo-Deck precious or the Trekkers will gets us, where he slaughters a group of space marines and students playing an action adventure shooter game.
Apparently, a man can’t get his HALO on with Jason chopping his head off in the future.
The Grendel attempts to dock at the space station Solaris, but Jason hacks the pilot to death. With no pilot at the helm, the Grendel plows right through the station destroying it and damaging half of the Grendel and sends it careening through space. In the chaos, Jason reclaims his machete from the crew and leaves the substitute weapon on the ground.
With the ship damaged the survivors decide it’s time to get the fuck off and head for the shuttle. But Jason has a different idea of how things should go down. Jason picks them off one at a time as they prepare to leave which results in one of the terrified survivors trying to launch the shuttle before it’s ready. The shuttle crashes into the Grendel’s hull and explodes leaving the remaining survivors stranded.
Then we get the the greatest, what the fuck? batshit moment in Friday the 13th history.
On board, the Grendel is a robotic grad student and his creation KM-14. KM is female, and it’s pretty clear her creator fucks her regularly. Also, she has no nipples. No reason to mention that other than because it’s kinda fascinating when he tries to giver her artificial nipple attachments. KM gets upgraded to a military robot while Jason is slaughtering the passengers and crew and what we get is a Jason Vs. Robot throwdown. KM legit kicks Jason’s ass as she blows bits and pieces off his body with her advanced weapons and overpowers him with her robot attributes.
Not since Rosey have I wanted to fuck a robot so bad… STOP SHAMMING ME!!!
With Jason out of commission, the survivors send a distress signal which is answered. In preparation for the rescue, they start setting charges to separate the crippled sections of the Grendel. While they are working, the damaged medical bay uses its nanobots to reanimate Jason. Not only do the little robots bring Jason back to consciousness they make him exponentially stronger. As my grandfather said, “I love it because they made Jason the Terminator.” I can’t say I disagree.
Jason kicks KM’s ass by knocking her head right off her shoulders, and he moves to kill the remaining survivors. But at the last minute, one of the survivors uses one of the charges to blow up the corridor giving the survivors a few seconds of breathing room. They use the time to create a solid holographic simulation of classic Crystal Lake to distract Jason. Unfortunately, Jason sees through it and continues toward the now trapped survivors. But they’ve bought enough time for the rest of the charges to be set, and the ship is separated. One survivor uses his EVA suit to divert Jason and the two of them plunge into the atmosphere of Earth Two.
The final shot of the movie is from the perspective of the ground side on Earth-Two, which is apparently a paradise. We see two teens beside a lake who observe what they believe is a falling star as Jason’s charred mask sinks to the bottom of the lake.
I don’t care what anyone says, I love this movie. It’s a balls to the wall rollercoaster ride of fun, and I highly recommend it to horror and science fiction fans alike.
October 8, 2016
T-Minus 31 Days
The three most divisive topics of conversation ion American society, and I assume other societies, but I’m an American and don’t presume to speak for other countries) are money, politics, and religion. The painful irony of this of is that those are the three most important issues in our culture. All other issues can in one form or another be traced back to one or all of those core issues. Compounded with this being the single most contentious and destabilizing Presidential Election since 1860 and I think we all know how that turned out.
We have a month until the day, and things are looking bad.
We have four viable choices for President of the United States of America this year. There are a significant number of people who will tell you there are only two choices and while they may be right when it comes to the likelihood of success, let’s be honest they are 99.8% right, there is still four major candidates on the ballots in almost every state. Running on the Democratic Ticket is Former Senator and Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton (HRC). Running on the Republican Ticket is Professional Personality Donald J. Trump (DJT). Running on the Libertarian Ticket is Former Governor Gary Johnson, And Running on the Green Ticket is Dr. Jill Stein.
I am an Independent Voter and a proudly self-described Democratic Socialist. If I had to pick a party to be affiliated with it’d be the Green Party, and you’d assume my vote was going to Stein. That would be the furthest thing from the truth, in reality, I’m voting for HRC even though I’ll be holding my nose while I do it and using a couple of bottles of Purell when I’m done. Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration but here’s why I’m voting for her.
I’m going to keep this as short and sweet as I can, but we all know I suffer from diarrhea of the word processor, so I apologize in advance if I ramble.
I like Governor Johnson and Dr. Stein. I’ve watched just about all of their interviews and town halls since spring, and they seem like genuinely good people. Honestly, I could live with one of them winning the presidency, but we all know that’s not going to happen no matter how much their supporters wish otherwise. Do I agree with them on the issues? Surprisingly yes on many issues I agree more with them than HRC and DJT. Now don’t get me wrong they are both fringe candidates from fringe parties which have yet to normalize but they are interesting, and I’m not going to overly criticize anyone who votes for them I just can’t do it myself. Why can’t I vote for one of them even though my views skews heavily toward the Green Party? One reason and I bet I can guess what that is.
Donald J. Trump.
Do I need to go into detail as to why this many can’t be allowed to be the President? Maybe and maybe not but I’m going to do a Solomon and split the baby by giving the short version. DJT is a fascist, megalomaniac, misogynist, racist, corrupt, lying douche bag who encourages his followers to commit violence and openly bragged he could shoot someone in the middle of 5th avenue and not get arrested. (I’m not providing citations for all of these claims, do gods damned google search if you need sources of confirmation) If all of that wasn’t bad enough, he talks about how terrible America is and how he’s gonna make it great again.
How is America terrible in his mind?
Is it the increased racial equality since he was young? Is it the independence of modern American women? Is it that Americans are increasingly and proudly exercising their freedom of speech? Is it the acceptance and equal rights for the LGBT citizens of our nation? Is it the acceptance of other cultures which despite what the media keeps telling us is only growing? Is it the fact that American are hard and industrious workers? Is it the increased empathy which leads us to want to help the less fortunate? Is it our strong and vibrant all volunteer military?
What is it sir, what do you want to change?
Kick out all foreigners? Put women back in the kitchens and bedrooms where you can force them to kiss you and grab them by the pussy and call them fat pigs? The world where you’re free to send even more of job overseas like you have so many of the ones in your company? Are we going to start nuking everyone and killing as many civilians as possible? A world were all environmental, and food regulations are removed or neutered? The world without affordable healthcare and education? The world where nonwhites are the enemy?
The 1950’s are dead and buried. We’re better off without them.
Now for my vote.
I am not going to actively defend why I’m voting for HRC. There will be no falling on my sword for the former Goldwater Girl. We all know the criticisms thrown at her but I’ll give a very brief rundown and my feelings about them. Let’s get the biggie, at least amongst some of the people I know, out of the way. Now let’s confront Benghazi.
The attack on the American Embassy in Benghazi is complete and utter bullshit as a scandal. Is it horrible that four people died at the embassy? Of course, it is. But was there some conspiracy or gross, willful negligence that lead to the tragedy? Not in the least. At worst the State Department, which HRC ran at the time, can be accused of is the bad management of the aftermath. These things have been proven by MULTIPLE GOP lead congressional investigations which have cost us (the American Taxpayers) millions of dollars and yielded nothing but vindication.
Moving on.
Now let’s talk a little about the Clinton Foundation and the private Email server. Why am I combining the two? Because I have a similar opinion on them. I think both of the situations are questionable and she is skating on charges because of her money and connections. Do I think she used the foundation to Launder money? Maybe but probably not, the Clinton Foundation has done a lot of good in the world and seems to be one of the better organizations of its kind. Not perfect but it’s good definitely outweighing the bad. What I do think happened is that outside individuals used their donations to the Foundation in orde3r to gain access to HRC and former President Clinton. It was an unofficial pay for play set up, not technically illegal but definitely slimy. When it comes to the email server, I think it’s something many other politicians have done, and they all should be called to the carpet on it. I think it was illegal and I do not think anything will ever come of it for her or any of the other hundreds of politicians who’ve done similar things.
I don’t like HRC. I think she is a corporatist right wing conservative democrat who would’ve fit in brilliantly with the 1980’s GOP establishment. She is the epitome of the bought and paid for politician. She looks out for her backers and donors first and the public second. She’ll change her mind and position on almost anything to gain and advantage and doesn’t see any of us as real people with thoughts, feelings, hopes, and dreams. In other words, she’s really no different than any other career politician in the United States and gods help us she’s the only thing standing between us and the American Fascists.
That’s why I’m voting for her.
We have a month until the day, and things are looking bad.
We have four viable choices for President of the United States of America this year. There are a significant number of people who will tell you there are only two choices and while they may be right when it comes to the likelihood of success, let’s be honest they are 99.8% right, there is still four major candidates on the ballots in almost every state. Running on the Democratic Ticket is Former Senator and Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton (HRC). Running on the Republican Ticket is Professional Personality Donald J. Trump (DJT). Running on the Libertarian Ticket is Former Governor Gary Johnson, And Running on the Green Ticket is Dr. Jill Stein.
I am an Independent Voter and a proudly self-described Democratic Socialist. If I had to pick a party to be affiliated with it’d be the Green Party, and you’d assume my vote was going to Stein. That would be the furthest thing from the truth, in reality, I’m voting for HRC even though I’ll be holding my nose while I do it and using a couple of bottles of Purell when I’m done. Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration but here’s why I’m voting for her.
I’m going to keep this as short and sweet as I can, but we all know I suffer from diarrhea of the word processor, so I apologize in advance if I ramble.
I like Governor Johnson and Dr. Stein. I’ve watched just about all of their interviews and town halls since spring, and they seem like genuinely good people. Honestly, I could live with one of them winning the presidency, but we all know that’s not going to happen no matter how much their supporters wish otherwise. Do I agree with them on the issues? Surprisingly yes on many issues I agree more with them than HRC and DJT. Now don’t get me wrong they are both fringe candidates from fringe parties which have yet to normalize but they are interesting, and I’m not going to overly criticize anyone who votes for them I just can’t do it myself. Why can’t I vote for one of them even though my views skews heavily toward the Green Party? One reason and I bet I can guess what that is.
Donald J. Trump.
Do I need to go into detail as to why this many can’t be allowed to be the President? Maybe and maybe not but I’m going to do a Solomon and split the baby by giving the short version. DJT is a fascist, megalomaniac, misogynist, racist, corrupt, lying douche bag who encourages his followers to commit violence and openly bragged he could shoot someone in the middle of 5th avenue and not get arrested. (I’m not providing citations for all of these claims, do gods damned google search if you need sources of confirmation) If all of that wasn’t bad enough, he talks about how terrible America is and how he’s gonna make it great again.
How is America terrible in his mind?
Is it the increased racial equality since he was young? Is it the independence of modern American women? Is it that Americans are increasingly and proudly exercising their freedom of speech? Is it the acceptance and equal rights for the LGBT citizens of our nation? Is it the acceptance of other cultures which despite what the media keeps telling us is only growing? Is it the fact that American are hard and industrious workers? Is it the increased empathy which leads us to want to help the less fortunate? Is it our strong and vibrant all volunteer military?
What is it sir, what do you want to change?
Kick out all foreigners? Put women back in the kitchens and bedrooms where you can force them to kiss you and grab them by the pussy and call them fat pigs? The world where you’re free to send even more of job overseas like you have so many of the ones in your company? Are we going to start nuking everyone and killing as many civilians as possible? A world were all environmental, and food regulations are removed or neutered? The world without affordable healthcare and education? The world where nonwhites are the enemy?
The 1950’s are dead and buried. We’re better off without them.
Now for my vote.
I am not going to actively defend why I’m voting for HRC. There will be no falling on my sword for the former Goldwater Girl. We all know the criticisms thrown at her but I’ll give a very brief rundown and my feelings about them. Let’s get the biggie, at least amongst some of the people I know, out of the way. Now let’s confront Benghazi.
The attack on the American Embassy in Benghazi is complete and utter bullshit as a scandal. Is it horrible that four people died at the embassy? Of course, it is. But was there some conspiracy or gross, willful negligence that lead to the tragedy? Not in the least. At worst the State Department, which HRC ran at the time, can be accused of is the bad management of the aftermath. These things have been proven by MULTIPLE GOP lead congressional investigations which have cost us (the American Taxpayers) millions of dollars and yielded nothing but vindication.
Moving on.
Now let’s talk a little about the Clinton Foundation and the private Email server. Why am I combining the two? Because I have a similar opinion on them. I think both of the situations are questionable and she is skating on charges because of her money and connections. Do I think she used the foundation to Launder money? Maybe but probably not, the Clinton Foundation has done a lot of good in the world and seems to be one of the better organizations of its kind. Not perfect but it’s good definitely outweighing the bad. What I do think happened is that outside individuals used their donations to the Foundation in orde3r to gain access to HRC and former President Clinton. It was an unofficial pay for play set up, not technically illegal but definitely slimy. When it comes to the email server, I think it’s something many other politicians have done, and they all should be called to the carpet on it. I think it was illegal and I do not think anything will ever come of it for her or any of the other hundreds of politicians who’ve done similar things.
I don’t like HRC. I think she is a corporatist right wing conservative democrat who would’ve fit in brilliantly with the 1980’s GOP establishment. She is the epitome of the bought and paid for politician. She looks out for her backers and donors first and the public second. She’ll change her mind and position on almost anything to gain and advantage and doesn’t see any of us as real people with thoughts, feelings, hopes, and dreams. In other words, she’s really no different than any other career politician in the United States and gods help us she’s the only thing standing between us and the American Fascists.
That’s why I’m voting for her.
October 4, 2016
My Social Economic Contract
This started out as a reply to a good friends post on Facebook. Let me reiterate so there’s no confusion, a GOOD friend. I have no problem being friends with people I know in real life with diametrically opposing views to my own because I choose my friends. If I choose someone to be a real friend, then I should be able to discuss things of a serious nature. Yes, I’ve made mistakes in the past, I am specifically thinking of a childhood friend who always referred to MLK day as “Martin Luther Koon Day” through high school and then spent months claiming he didn’t have a racist bone in his sloth-like body.
With that said here are my BASIC views on how some aspects of the American economy should work.
“A nation will not survive morally or economically when so few have so much, while so many have so little.”
– Sen. Bernie Sanders
How should taxation and government services in the United States work?
If anyone tells you they have the answer, they’re full of shit.
I am a Scandinavian style Democratic Socialist, and I make no apologies for that, but I don’t claim to know the answer to the question either. All I know is what I believe, and my beliefs didn’t spring from my brow like Athena whole and ready for battle. For forty years, okay maybe more like twenty-five to thirty, I’ve adjusted and rethought my views.
Like a lot of teenagers I had my time as a very Libertarian person, and that’s not a slam on Libertarians—some of the most generous and kind people I know are honest Libertarians. However, I’ve personally known more selfish assholes who either describe themselves as Libertarian or ascribe to the same views than those who don’t. I also went through a period when I looked at true Communism, along with Marxism and Maoism, and considered the real virtues they offered. Of course, in the end, they are no better than the Hyper Capitalism of the Libertarian view in my opinion.
My views started solidifying as my wife and I worked our fingers to the bone in order to provide for our children and were never able to make any real headway. And let me state that again just in case you missed it, we worked our god’s damned fingers to the bone and like so many other Americans we lost ground while the uber rich have flaunted their wealth.
My belief is that everyone owes the society they are part of to an equal degree of what they get from it. Every member of a community is entitled (and no I do not consider that a bad word) to a basic minimum level of income and services based on the level the society can comfortably support. In a developed society there is no excuse for people living in extreme poverty. If you don’t want to look at it as “The Right Thing To Do” then look at it this way, it harms society, and it breeds resentment.
This is how revolutions start people.
“Corporations are people, my friend.”
– Governor Mitt Romney (Multi-Millionaire Businessman)
A corporation and a person are not the same things.
In a fair and balanced (see what I did there) society corporations must pay a significant amount of taxes without the plethora of loopholes, shortcuts, and deductions which allow some multibillion-dollar entities to actually get a refund. Let me be VERY blunt: corporations must pay the absolute lion’s share of their profits in taxes.
Now the view that’ll piss people off. The ultra rich do not deserve what they have. Now when I say rich, I don’t mean people that make upwards of half a million dollars a year (random number I have no solid idea what I consider the maximum income level) doing a real job. What I mean are the men and women who make their millions and billions off the backs of workers and through nothing more than moving money around or inheriting it.
Should they keep a significant amount of the money? Sure, absolutely, but they should pay a much higher level of taxes after a certain level in order to help support the society which allows them to make the money in the first place. More tax money to education, public services, healthcare, infrastructure, and other things strengthen our society and will, in the end, generate more money feeding the engine and creating more wealth sustainably.
Why should these poor rich people be forced to do these things through legislation?
Because it’s their obligation to the society that made them rich in the first damn place. They should not be left to choose on their own how much or how little they contribute. The rich can be incredibly selfish and don’t try to shine my ass by telling me otherwise. Obviously not all, but many, and they must be held to the same rules the rest of us are.
You are, of course, free to 100% disagree with me, but you’re not going to convince me I’m wrong.
With that said here are my BASIC views on how some aspects of the American economy should work.
“A nation will not survive morally or economically when so few have so much, while so many have so little.”
– Sen. Bernie Sanders
How should taxation and government services in the United States work?
If anyone tells you they have the answer, they’re full of shit.
I am a Scandinavian style Democratic Socialist, and I make no apologies for that, but I don’t claim to know the answer to the question either. All I know is what I believe, and my beliefs didn’t spring from my brow like Athena whole and ready for battle. For forty years, okay maybe more like twenty-five to thirty, I’ve adjusted and rethought my views.
Like a lot of teenagers I had my time as a very Libertarian person, and that’s not a slam on Libertarians—some of the most generous and kind people I know are honest Libertarians. However, I’ve personally known more selfish assholes who either describe themselves as Libertarian or ascribe to the same views than those who don’t. I also went through a period when I looked at true Communism, along with Marxism and Maoism, and considered the real virtues they offered. Of course, in the end, they are no better than the Hyper Capitalism of the Libertarian view in my opinion.
My views started solidifying as my wife and I worked our fingers to the bone in order to provide for our children and were never able to make any real headway. And let me state that again just in case you missed it, we worked our god’s damned fingers to the bone and like so many other Americans we lost ground while the uber rich have flaunted their wealth.
My belief is that everyone owes the society they are part of to an equal degree of what they get from it. Every member of a community is entitled (and no I do not consider that a bad word) to a basic minimum level of income and services based on the level the society can comfortably support. In a developed society there is no excuse for people living in extreme poverty. If you don’t want to look at it as “The Right Thing To Do” then look at it this way, it harms society, and it breeds resentment.
This is how revolutions start people.
“Corporations are people, my friend.”
– Governor Mitt Romney (Multi-Millionaire Businessman)
A corporation and a person are not the same things.
In a fair and balanced (see what I did there) society corporations must pay a significant amount of taxes without the plethora of loopholes, shortcuts, and deductions which allow some multibillion-dollar entities to actually get a refund. Let me be VERY blunt: corporations must pay the absolute lion’s share of their profits in taxes.
Now the view that’ll piss people off. The ultra rich do not deserve what they have. Now when I say rich, I don’t mean people that make upwards of half a million dollars a year (random number I have no solid idea what I consider the maximum income level) doing a real job. What I mean are the men and women who make their millions and billions off the backs of workers and through nothing more than moving money around or inheriting it.
Should they keep a significant amount of the money? Sure, absolutely, but they should pay a much higher level of taxes after a certain level in order to help support the society which allows them to make the money in the first place. More tax money to education, public services, healthcare, infrastructure, and other things strengthen our society and will, in the end, generate more money feeding the engine and creating more wealth sustainably.
Why should these poor rich people be forced to do these things through legislation?
Because it’s their obligation to the society that made them rich in the first damn place. They should not be left to choose on their own how much or how little they contribute. The rich can be incredibly selfish and don’t try to shine my ass by telling me otherwise. Obviously not all, but many, and they must be held to the same rules the rest of us are.
You are, of course, free to 100% disagree with me, but you’re not going to convince me I’m wrong.
September 11, 2016
Fifteen Years Later
Once more it’s September 11th, and once more everyone is posting what they were doing and where they were fifteen years ago when the towers fell. I never do this (well I did it once, but it was just a short post), not because the day isn’t important to me, fuck’s sake like so many others I count time pre and post 9-11, but because what’s happened since breaks my heart and angries up my blood.
I’m about to get a metric shit ton of hate from people for this, but I turned 40 last month, I’m diabetic, bald, fat, and frankly I don’t give a shit what most people think.
On September 11th, 2001 I was working for the city as a maintenance man, A group of us were clocking out for our first break and the time clock was located behind the central reception desk, and the people at the desk were watching the Today Show. I saw the first tower get hit on replay only minutes after it happened… I saw the second tower hit in real time. The rest of the day is a kinda fuzzy, instead of working we spent the day watching the television and I saw both towers fall as it happened. Calling it the darkest day in living American history is not hyperbole.
Yes I know, none of that pisses you off, we all have our stories, and most are far more disturbing than anything I experienced. No what’s gonna make you want to punch me come now.
In many ways (there are very few if any absolutes) America is a far worse place than it was 15 years ago.
Before you start composing your vitriol, just read my words. We had a chance to take that tragedy and become a better place, and in some ways a minority of people have. But like we’ve seen so many times in the past a segment of the population has turned tragedy to their advantage, and horrible things have been the result. Darkness, long living in the cracks and slimy places of our society, has catalyzed and in many cases been normalized.
What do I mean by that?
In the fear and anger following the September 11th attacks we, as in most of us not all, willingly surrendered our freedoms to a corrupt oligarchy of the rich and the powerful. We thought we were doing it so they could prevent another attack on American soil. Privacy, freedoms, and basic human rights have been curtailed in the name of safety and security. We still live in a constant fear of the other, and it’s not just the Muslims. We are embroiled in several wars, all undeclared by our Congress, wars in which thousands of Americans and our allies have been killed and nearly a million civilians and enemy combatants have lost their lives. Our government has engaged in torture, unlawful detention, spying on Americans, and the extrajudicial executions of Americans abroad.
These people have died for what, justice, revenge, power, money, the Great American Empire?
These are only a few of the things I could name, examples too many Americans don’t care about or worse support wholeheartedly.
Americans are fracturing along lines and to depths not seen in a hundred and fifty years. Religion, sexual orientation, gender identity, religion, law enforcement, justice, personal beliefs of all stripes, and for the love of the Universe wishing someone a “Happy Holidays” is enough top start a fight!
What the fuck happened to us?
We gave up for a period, listened to people who could not care less about us, and now we’re paying the price. Police have been taught that citizens are the enemy, citizens are told all police are an occupying army bent on crushing them and in both examples neither group has done nearly enough to counter the corrupt and despicable elements around them. The government isn’t run by the people but by the big money donors, the oligarchs who fund the politicians. And what might be the single largest problem facing us, outside of the corrupt government, Racism, classism, homophobia, and religious hate have all been normalized and given a voice by a media controlled by the same oligarchs who’ve bought the politicians. Don’t believe me? Look it up the same six corporations own almost all the news media in the nation and the owners donate HEAVILY to politicians.
Unfortunately, if we want to change this, dark days still lie ahead of us.
Fifteen years ago more than three thousand Americans died in the worst tragedy on American soil in living memory. Many of those people were New York City Police and Firefighters who knew it was bad and did their job anyway. We came together that day like never before and for a moment there seemed to be a silver lining shining brightly in the darkness, ash, and death.
What would those people say about what we’ve become?
– Josh
I’m about to get a metric shit ton of hate from people for this, but I turned 40 last month, I’m diabetic, bald, fat, and frankly I don’t give a shit what most people think.
On September 11th, 2001 I was working for the city as a maintenance man, A group of us were clocking out for our first break and the time clock was located behind the central reception desk, and the people at the desk were watching the Today Show. I saw the first tower get hit on replay only minutes after it happened… I saw the second tower hit in real time. The rest of the day is a kinda fuzzy, instead of working we spent the day watching the television and I saw both towers fall as it happened. Calling it the darkest day in living American history is not hyperbole.
Yes I know, none of that pisses you off, we all have our stories, and most are far more disturbing than anything I experienced. No what’s gonna make you want to punch me come now.
In many ways (there are very few if any absolutes) America is a far worse place than it was 15 years ago.
Before you start composing your vitriol, just read my words. We had a chance to take that tragedy and become a better place, and in some ways a minority of people have. But like we’ve seen so many times in the past a segment of the population has turned tragedy to their advantage, and horrible things have been the result. Darkness, long living in the cracks and slimy places of our society, has catalyzed and in many cases been normalized.
What do I mean by that?
In the fear and anger following the September 11th attacks we, as in most of us not all, willingly surrendered our freedoms to a corrupt oligarchy of the rich and the powerful. We thought we were doing it so they could prevent another attack on American soil. Privacy, freedoms, and basic human rights have been curtailed in the name of safety and security. We still live in a constant fear of the other, and it’s not just the Muslims. We are embroiled in several wars, all undeclared by our Congress, wars in which thousands of Americans and our allies have been killed and nearly a million civilians and enemy combatants have lost their lives. Our government has engaged in torture, unlawful detention, spying on Americans, and the extrajudicial executions of Americans abroad.
These people have died for what, justice, revenge, power, money, the Great American Empire?
These are only a few of the things I could name, examples too many Americans don’t care about or worse support wholeheartedly.
Americans are fracturing along lines and to depths not seen in a hundred and fifty years. Religion, sexual orientation, gender identity, religion, law enforcement, justice, personal beliefs of all stripes, and for the love of the Universe wishing someone a “Happy Holidays” is enough top start a fight!
What the fuck happened to us?
We gave up for a period, listened to people who could not care less about us, and now we’re paying the price. Police have been taught that citizens are the enemy, citizens are told all police are an occupying army bent on crushing them and in both examples neither group has done nearly enough to counter the corrupt and despicable elements around them. The government isn’t run by the people but by the big money donors, the oligarchs who fund the politicians. And what might be the single largest problem facing us, outside of the corrupt government, Racism, classism, homophobia, and religious hate have all been normalized and given a voice by a media controlled by the same oligarchs who’ve bought the politicians. Don’t believe me? Look it up the same six corporations own almost all the news media in the nation and the owners donate HEAVILY to politicians.
Unfortunately, if we want to change this, dark days still lie ahead of us.
Fifteen years ago more than three thousand Americans died in the worst tragedy on American soil in living memory. Many of those people were New York City Police and Firefighters who knew it was bad and did their job anyway. We came together that day like never before and for a moment there seemed to be a silver lining shining brightly in the darkness, ash, and death.
What would those people say about what we’ve become?
– Josh
August 27, 2016
I Was That Guy
There’s a narrative being spewed in the media that race relations are at an all-time low point. This is bullshit. Any of us who live in the real world can see this. Because of that, I am glad Donald J. Trump is running for Head Oompa-Loompa, I mean President of the United States.
Why?
Because it’s like a massive black light was mounted on the moon and has been blasted across the breadth and width of America. We can see all of the fecal, urine, and semen stains no matter how hard people have worked to scrub them from existence. We’ve learned that people we’ve known all of our lives, and honestly thought we knew to the core, are really miserable dipshits. We’ve had our collective eyes opened and no matter what happens next, closing them again will be nigh on impossible. This is a great thing, and I truly believe in the end we will be better off as a people and a nation.
But… Isn’t there always a but and not even a cute one either?
Any of us with a trace of internal morality have been forced to acknowledge that we are also in our own ways just as flawed as the asshats we call friends and family. We’ve had to admit, at least in our secret hearts, that everyone has a tendency towards racism, classism, and bigotry. All of us have judged someone on their race, religion, nationality, class, gender, or sexual orientation. We’ve all done it even if we won’t admit it and you know what? That makes us human.
I’m not saying it’s okay or that we’re excused from our transgressions. What I am saying is we need to know none of us are innocent and that what we need to do is work extra hard to learn and to pass what we learn on to our children and the next generation as a whole.
I know it works, because I was that guy.
I was raised with two very different views on humanity. I’m not going to name names and point fingers, but from many people in my family I was taught that unless you were a straight, white, Christian, middle-class American you were crap. I was taught poor, ethnic, welfare, drug users were the reason we were poor white trash. The faggots, the spics, the niggers, the Muslims, the atheists, and the godless pinko Commies were the enemy, and we should never lift a finger to support them.
Thankfully this train of thought was countered by a very small segment of my family. My mother, father, and grandmothers being paramount in standing against these thoughts. I was taught to judge people by who they are inside not what they are outside.
Sounds stupid simple but it’s the truth.
Now for the honesty. I went through my angry white man period.
From the age of twenty until about twenty-eight I blamed the system because I couldn’t get ahead. Instead of looking at the big picture, I blamed my fellow poor – especially the non-whites – for my inability to support my family. I was convinced, with no proof at all, that they were taking all the jobs and resources from the rest of us real Americans. Because things were difficult for me and mine, I wanted to lash out and blame everyone else for what was in reality just the way this broken system works. I am ashamed to admit Josh in his twenties would’ve been a die hard Trumpeter.
What happened?
I can tell you exactly what happened. I was shopping at a thrift store—ironically I was ashamed of that back then, and now I love the thrift shop – much love Macklemore – and found one of those confederate flag t-shirts stating some bullshit about how I’ll wear my colors if you wear yours. I bought the thing and wore it home proudly. Just imagine a fat, Irish-American Michigander with his used confederate flag t-shirt—I couldn’t make that up for a story.
What an asshole.
Later that evening my mother stopped by and saw me in the shirt. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have too. My mother, who despite all her flaws did her best for us, the woman who raised me to see people as people, and the woman who was one of the first people I came out to as a bi-sexual was ashamed of me.
I threw the rag away that night.
Did things change automatically? Of course not, this is real life not a TV sitcom. But as the years passed I made an effort to examine my flaws and to take steps to rectify them. This eventually lead to me admitting my mental illness in my mid thirties, which in turn helped me closer examine my flaws and so and so forth.
What is my point in all of this?
Self-improvement isn’t a sprint boils and ghouls, it’s a marathon and it’s one worth running.
Why?
Because it’s like a massive black light was mounted on the moon and has been blasted across the breadth and width of America. We can see all of the fecal, urine, and semen stains no matter how hard people have worked to scrub them from existence. We’ve learned that people we’ve known all of our lives, and honestly thought we knew to the core, are really miserable dipshits. We’ve had our collective eyes opened and no matter what happens next, closing them again will be nigh on impossible. This is a great thing, and I truly believe in the end we will be better off as a people and a nation.
But… Isn’t there always a but and not even a cute one either?
Any of us with a trace of internal morality have been forced to acknowledge that we are also in our own ways just as flawed as the asshats we call friends and family. We’ve had to admit, at least in our secret hearts, that everyone has a tendency towards racism, classism, and bigotry. All of us have judged someone on their race, religion, nationality, class, gender, or sexual orientation. We’ve all done it even if we won’t admit it and you know what? That makes us human.
I’m not saying it’s okay or that we’re excused from our transgressions. What I am saying is we need to know none of us are innocent and that what we need to do is work extra hard to learn and to pass what we learn on to our children and the next generation as a whole.
I know it works, because I was that guy.
I was raised with two very different views on humanity. I’m not going to name names and point fingers, but from many people in my family I was taught that unless you were a straight, white, Christian, middle-class American you were crap. I was taught poor, ethnic, welfare, drug users were the reason we were poor white trash. The faggots, the spics, the niggers, the Muslims, the atheists, and the godless pinko Commies were the enemy, and we should never lift a finger to support them.
Thankfully this train of thought was countered by a very small segment of my family. My mother, father, and grandmothers being paramount in standing against these thoughts. I was taught to judge people by who they are inside not what they are outside.
Sounds stupid simple but it’s the truth.
Now for the honesty. I went through my angry white man period.
From the age of twenty until about twenty-eight I blamed the system because I couldn’t get ahead. Instead of looking at the big picture, I blamed my fellow poor – especially the non-whites – for my inability to support my family. I was convinced, with no proof at all, that they were taking all the jobs and resources from the rest of us real Americans. Because things were difficult for me and mine, I wanted to lash out and blame everyone else for what was in reality just the way this broken system works. I am ashamed to admit Josh in his twenties would’ve been a die hard Trumpeter.
What happened?
I can tell you exactly what happened. I was shopping at a thrift store—ironically I was ashamed of that back then, and now I love the thrift shop – much love Macklemore – and found one of those confederate flag t-shirts stating some bullshit about how I’ll wear my colors if you wear yours. I bought the thing and wore it home proudly. Just imagine a fat, Irish-American Michigander with his used confederate flag t-shirt—I couldn’t make that up for a story.
What an asshole.
Later that evening my mother stopped by and saw me in the shirt. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have too. My mother, who despite all her flaws did her best for us, the woman who raised me to see people as people, and the woman who was one of the first people I came out to as a bi-sexual was ashamed of me.
I threw the rag away that night.
Did things change automatically? Of course not, this is real life not a TV sitcom. But as the years passed I made an effort to examine my flaws and to take steps to rectify them. This eventually lead to me admitting my mental illness in my mid thirties, which in turn helped me closer examine my flaws and so and so forth.
What is my point in all of this?
Self-improvement isn’t a sprint boils and ghouls, it’s a marathon and it’s one worth running.
July 10, 2016
Bad Movies I Love #4 Star Wars Episode 1: The Phantom Menace
This one needs a bit of back story.
My first clear memory is of seeing Star Wars at the Wayside Drive-In during the re-release in 1979. I know it was the ‘79 release because my mother was not pregnant and I was the only child in the car with my parents. I was three years od, and the experience is burned into my memory. Everything that comes before that moment is a blank slate, and much of what comes after is muddy at best, but that night is crystal clear.
To say Star Wars influenced me is an understatement. Oh, not as much as Star Trek, I’ll be a Trekkie until I die, but I’m a fandom whore, and I have room on my shelf for many things. One day we’ll talk about Babylon 5 until you want to punch me in the face.
When The Empire Strikes Back came out, we were living with my grandmother. My parents were on one of their breaks with my father at our house and us living with grandma. Grandma took me to see Empire at the Universal theater in Ann Arbor. I know it wasn’t on opening weekend, but it was still early in the movies release. I’m sure the secret of Vader being Luke’s father had already been spoiled in the media, but I was unaware of it and thus had the thrill of learning the truth along with Luke in the bowels of Cloud City. My strongest memory of seeing Empire was grandma taking me to the BEST department store (did they have those in your area in the 80’s?) and buying me a Taun-Taun and Hoth Han Solo.
Even then I knew how I felt about Harrison Ford.
Return of the Jedi is a bittersweet memory for me. It is the absolute last thing I remember doing as a family with my parents that wasn’t a birthday or wedding. We saw it at the State Wayne Drive-In the weekend it opened. The movie was great even if I already knew at that tender age that it was the weakest of the three. I remember loving the crimson uniforms of the Imperial Guardsmen to a bizarre degree and being fixed on the bright green of Luke’s new lightsaber. But let’s cut the shit, Princess Leia owned me in that movie. Even to this day, I adore Carrie Fisher.
Young Josh was a Princess Leia fan in the first two movies of the original trilogy, but he fell in love with her in Jedi. Yes, I know all of you cheeky monkeys think I’m referring to the gold bikini and slave Leia, but you’d be wrong… kinda. Prepubescent Josh was indeed turned on by the gorgeous Miss Fisher, but the rest of Josh found his first true female badass that day. He didn’t see Alien and the phenom that is Ellen Ripley for a few more years and on Betamax at that.
Suffice it to say I love Star Wars.
Fast forward to 1997 and the announcement that one Mr. George Lucas was officially working on the first movie of a trilogy of prequels to the original series. Along with this announcement came the remastered and extended/enhanced special editions of the first trilogy. I have to tell you this right now—I like the special editions. Yes the use of CGI is a bit overdone, and yes I’m as pissed as anyone about the whole making Greedo shoot first bullshit. But setting that aside the cleaned up film, enhanced effects, and yes the addition of the formerly cut scene with Jabba the Hut more than makes up for it in my view.
I saw Star Wars Episode 1: The Phantom Menace the day after it opened with my unnamed sibling at the nine pm showing. I liked it a lot. Yes even on the first of my three viewings in the theater there were things I didn’t like. Before I explain why I actually really like this movie, let me give a brief rundown of the things I don’t like.
The entire idea of Midi-chlorians still to this day piss me off. Seriously, bacteria makes the Jedi powerful? So basically I could kill a Jedi with my blood type, drain him or her, transfuse their blood into my body and them BOOM I’m a Sith Lord bitches?! Sign me up because after I’m done, it’s off to Washington D.C. where I’ll get a place as the President’s Chief of Staff. Always wanted to be the power behind the throne.
There was too much Jar-Jar for my liking, but I don’t hate the character as a whole. You need comic relief but even in 1999, the character came off way too racist for my tastes. I in no way think he was intended to be racist, and I actually find the gangly stereotype kinda funny but yeah the affectations of the character make me uncomfortable.
Anakin should not have been a child. The break with established continuity really bothers me. Yes, I know old Ben only said Anakin was already a great pilot when he met him and never specified his age, but it was heavily implied that Anakin was at least a teenager, closer to an adult than a child. Also, I don’t hate Jake Lloyds acting. The kid did the best he could under the circumstances. Look at his work pre-Episode 1 and you’ll see he was a solid actor. I blame how he was directed and the dialog he was given. Look at him during the pod race scene, the kid’s non-verbal acting is intense.
But enough complaining, there’s a lot of good in the film.
George Lucas, despite all of his movie making flaws, actually came damn close to making a perfect movie. I find the plot interesting, entire “Wag The Dog” aspect as Palpatine manipulates everyone killing millions just so he can become Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. Also, the movie still looks amazing, even after nearly twenty years the effects hold up. That final battle for Naboo still has the ability to drag me in and make me forget it’s almost all CGI.
Senator Palpatine is the real star of the movie and in my mind the entire trilogy. When he’s on the screen, he owns it. The man dominates every environment he occupies and his dealings with Queen Amidala in the Galactic Senate chamber are my favorite non-battle scenes in the entire film.
Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi are the Jedi we’d been waiting to meet since 1977. They are they peacemakers, they are the strategists, they are the diplomats, and they are the heart and soul of the Galactic Republic. Yes, they make mistakes, but that just shows they are only human making them even better than if they were unobtainable paragons of virtue.
The Battle for Naboo is amazing. It’s small compared to so many of the other battles in the Star Wars series, but the punch it delivers is memorable. Is it because of the fight in the capital? No, the credit for the awesomeness of the battle hands down belongs to the Gungans. I may not be a Jar-Jar Binks fan, although his portrayal in the TV shows makes him a well-rounded and interesting character, but I love the Gungans. They’re out-manned, outgunned, and using biotech and hand to hand weapons against a droid army and they never back down. The Gungans go in knowing they don’t have a farts chance in a hurricane, and they fight with all they have.
Also, I’m saying this right here, and now, I LOVE Captain Tarpals.
Now we set all of that aside and get to the single greatest thing in Episode 1—Darth Maul. The man is a presence and even though he has very little screen time every second he is up there he owns it. His dominance is second only to Palpatine in Episode 1. From his demonic visage to the double bladed light saber Maul may be the worst Sith around.
Ray Park manages to convey more emotion through expressions and gestures than most actors do in their strongest vocalization. In the final battle between Maul and the Jedi, there’s a scene after he kills Qui-Gon that he and Obi-Wan are separated by a forcefield. Obi forces himself to kneel and meditate as he waits for the forcefield to drop but Darth Maul is a jungle cat. He paces back and forth inches from the barrier eyes locked on the young Jedi. For me, it’s the most powerful moment in the movie.
And that’s it—those are the reasons I love Episode 1. Yes the movie has some serious issues, and I understand why some people hate it, but I don’t. Despite all the flaws I love it.
– Josh
My first clear memory is of seeing Star Wars at the Wayside Drive-In during the re-release in 1979. I know it was the ‘79 release because my mother was not pregnant and I was the only child in the car with my parents. I was three years od, and the experience is burned into my memory. Everything that comes before that moment is a blank slate, and much of what comes after is muddy at best, but that night is crystal clear.
To say Star Wars influenced me is an understatement. Oh, not as much as Star Trek, I’ll be a Trekkie until I die, but I’m a fandom whore, and I have room on my shelf for many things. One day we’ll talk about Babylon 5 until you want to punch me in the face.
When The Empire Strikes Back came out, we were living with my grandmother. My parents were on one of their breaks with my father at our house and us living with grandma. Grandma took me to see Empire at the Universal theater in Ann Arbor. I know it wasn’t on opening weekend, but it was still early in the movies release. I’m sure the secret of Vader being Luke’s father had already been spoiled in the media, but I was unaware of it and thus had the thrill of learning the truth along with Luke in the bowels of Cloud City. My strongest memory of seeing Empire was grandma taking me to the BEST department store (did they have those in your area in the 80’s?) and buying me a Taun-Taun and Hoth Han Solo.
Even then I knew how I felt about Harrison Ford.
Return of the Jedi is a bittersweet memory for me. It is the absolute last thing I remember doing as a family with my parents that wasn’t a birthday or wedding. We saw it at the State Wayne Drive-In the weekend it opened. The movie was great even if I already knew at that tender age that it was the weakest of the three. I remember loving the crimson uniforms of the Imperial Guardsmen to a bizarre degree and being fixed on the bright green of Luke’s new lightsaber. But let’s cut the shit, Princess Leia owned me in that movie. Even to this day, I adore Carrie Fisher.
Young Josh was a Princess Leia fan in the first two movies of the original trilogy, but he fell in love with her in Jedi. Yes, I know all of you cheeky monkeys think I’m referring to the gold bikini and slave Leia, but you’d be wrong… kinda. Prepubescent Josh was indeed turned on by the gorgeous Miss Fisher, but the rest of Josh found his first true female badass that day. He didn’t see Alien and the phenom that is Ellen Ripley for a few more years and on Betamax at that.
Suffice it to say I love Star Wars.
Fast forward to 1997 and the announcement that one Mr. George Lucas was officially working on the first movie of a trilogy of prequels to the original series. Along with this announcement came the remastered and extended/enhanced special editions of the first trilogy. I have to tell you this right now—I like the special editions. Yes the use of CGI is a bit overdone, and yes I’m as pissed as anyone about the whole making Greedo shoot first bullshit. But setting that aside the cleaned up film, enhanced effects, and yes the addition of the formerly cut scene with Jabba the Hut more than makes up for it in my view.
I saw Star Wars Episode 1: The Phantom Menace the day after it opened with my unnamed sibling at the nine pm showing. I liked it a lot. Yes even on the first of my three viewings in the theater there were things I didn’t like. Before I explain why I actually really like this movie, let me give a brief rundown of the things I don’t like.
The entire idea of Midi-chlorians still to this day piss me off. Seriously, bacteria makes the Jedi powerful? So basically I could kill a Jedi with my blood type, drain him or her, transfuse their blood into my body and them BOOM I’m a Sith Lord bitches?! Sign me up because after I’m done, it’s off to Washington D.C. where I’ll get a place as the President’s Chief of Staff. Always wanted to be the power behind the throne.
There was too much Jar-Jar for my liking, but I don’t hate the character as a whole. You need comic relief but even in 1999, the character came off way too racist for my tastes. I in no way think he was intended to be racist, and I actually find the gangly stereotype kinda funny but yeah the affectations of the character make me uncomfortable.
Anakin should not have been a child. The break with established continuity really bothers me. Yes, I know old Ben only said Anakin was already a great pilot when he met him and never specified his age, but it was heavily implied that Anakin was at least a teenager, closer to an adult than a child. Also, I don’t hate Jake Lloyds acting. The kid did the best he could under the circumstances. Look at his work pre-Episode 1 and you’ll see he was a solid actor. I blame how he was directed and the dialog he was given. Look at him during the pod race scene, the kid’s non-verbal acting is intense.
But enough complaining, there’s a lot of good in the film.
George Lucas, despite all of his movie making flaws, actually came damn close to making a perfect movie. I find the plot interesting, entire “Wag The Dog” aspect as Palpatine manipulates everyone killing millions just so he can become Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. Also, the movie still looks amazing, even after nearly twenty years the effects hold up. That final battle for Naboo still has the ability to drag me in and make me forget it’s almost all CGI.
Senator Palpatine is the real star of the movie and in my mind the entire trilogy. When he’s on the screen, he owns it. The man dominates every environment he occupies and his dealings with Queen Amidala in the Galactic Senate chamber are my favorite non-battle scenes in the entire film.
Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi are the Jedi we’d been waiting to meet since 1977. They are they peacemakers, they are the strategists, they are the diplomats, and they are the heart and soul of the Galactic Republic. Yes, they make mistakes, but that just shows they are only human making them even better than if they were unobtainable paragons of virtue.
The Battle for Naboo is amazing. It’s small compared to so many of the other battles in the Star Wars series, but the punch it delivers is memorable. Is it because of the fight in the capital? No, the credit for the awesomeness of the battle hands down belongs to the Gungans. I may not be a Jar-Jar Binks fan, although his portrayal in the TV shows makes him a well-rounded and interesting character, but I love the Gungans. They’re out-manned, outgunned, and using biotech and hand to hand weapons against a droid army and they never back down. The Gungans go in knowing they don’t have a farts chance in a hurricane, and they fight with all they have.
Also, I’m saying this right here, and now, I LOVE Captain Tarpals.
Now we set all of that aside and get to the single greatest thing in Episode 1—Darth Maul. The man is a presence and even though he has very little screen time every second he is up there he owns it. His dominance is second only to Palpatine in Episode 1. From his demonic visage to the double bladed light saber Maul may be the worst Sith around.
Ray Park manages to convey more emotion through expressions and gestures than most actors do in their strongest vocalization. In the final battle between Maul and the Jedi, there’s a scene after he kills Qui-Gon that he and Obi-Wan are separated by a forcefield. Obi forces himself to kneel and meditate as he waits for the forcefield to drop but Darth Maul is a jungle cat. He paces back and forth inches from the barrier eyes locked on the young Jedi. For me, it’s the most powerful moment in the movie.
And that’s it—those are the reasons I love Episode 1. Yes the movie has some serious issues, and I understand why some people hate it, but I don’t. Despite all the flaws I love it.
– Josh
July 7, 2016
Josh, Flaws and All Part 8: Depression
*DISCLAIMER: I do not consider depression a true flaw. People suffering from depression are not responsible for the feeling and can only at best abrogate the effects. We will never be free of depression and we are often ridiculed and judged for it. That being said I find the way I’ve reacted to my depression to be my single biggest flaw.*
I bet I can guess what you’re thinking reading the title of this part. Want me to guess? If I do will you go out and buy a few of my books? Okay, here we go, I bet you’re thinking some variation of the following:
“Really?
Are we really talking about depression again?
I mean damn Josh it seems like all you ever do is talk about your struggle with depression. You go on and on like a broken record perpetually playing ‘Hit Me Baby One More Time’ but not the Britney version. No the version we’re stuck with is from an impersonator working in Branson, Missouri, Branson not even mother fucking Las Vegas or even Atlantic City!”
Am I right?
If I am then, you have my permission to stop reading now and do something fun. I recommend going to see Captain America Civil War while it’s still in the theaters. If you’ve already seen it, then the local water park (if you live in the northern hemisphere) or the ski slope (if you live in the mythical lands of the Southern Cross) are perfect for an enjoyable day out.
Still here? Awesome then let’s get down to it.
When I was, I want to say seven, but it might have been eight, all I know for sure is it was the summer my parents split up, and I assumed we were vacating the house so Dad could clear his stuff out. To facilitate this, my mother took me and my unnamed sibling camping with my paternal grandfather. The horrible biological one not the one who helped raise me. I was never clear on the details, but for some reason my grandfather was hiding out at a KOA campground. Not sure if it was because his second wife kicked him out or he was being hunted by one of his side women’s husbands. Not even joking—there is a solid possibility this is the reason.
I loved camping as a kid and really couldn’t care less why we were going to spend a week on the lake. We had a really good time while there. I think it may be the last good time I had with my bio-grandfather. It wasn’t long after the camping trip that I saw him hit my mother in the garage on Taladay Road.
On the last day of the trip, we were cleaning up the campsite and I was really sad. My mom asked me if I was depressed that we were leaving. I’m not 100% sure but I believe that was the first time I’d ever heard the term applied to me. I asked mom what she meant, and she did the best she could to explain. She told me being depressed was being sad and not being able to do anything about it. That was a poor explanation, but it did open the door for me to learn more in the years to come.
I realized my depression was far from “normal” in the eighth grade. We’d been living with my maternal grandparents for two years, and I was going through the horrors of puberty. It was the lowest point of my pre-adult life, but at the time I thought it was normal. I honestly believed everyone was wired the way I am, and it wouldn’t be until I was sixteen years old that I learned I had problems.
I’ve told the story of my first suicide attempt before, and I’m not going to bore you all with that story again. What I will say is that during the summer I spent in the looney bin, ok it was a good place and I have remained thankful for my time there, I learned I was Bi-Polar. In the years following my stint in the nuthatch I’ve done a bad job of dealing with my depression.
I’ve ignored my friends and family. I’ve been petty and cruel. I’ve ignored my depression. I’ve refused to talk about the things bothering me. I’ve blamed others for my issues. I’ve been a horrible friend. I’ve been a terrible father. I’ve been an unworthy partner. I’ve allowed my depression to reign financial ruin on my family. I’ve allowed my depression to ruin jobs. I’ve allowed my depression to destroy my self-esteem.
I could go on, but this is depressing me.
In the spring of 2012, I finally cracked and opened up to my doctor about my depression. Since then it’s been a dance of balancing medication and forcing myself to expose my flaws and secrets to the light of day. It’s worked wonders, and there are stretches of entire weeks when I don’t feel the tendrils of severe depression tickling the back of my mind. That may sound mediocre to many of you but to me it’s a miracle I would’ve never believed possible five years ago.
Sometimes I’m happy.
The whole point of this has been trying to describe what living with severe chronic depression is like, and I fear I keep coming up empty. Should I have focused on the sadness, the anxiety, the apathy, the fear, or the pain? I couldn’t decide on a single angle and instead blasted them all at you like a shotgun. After that, they all might have resonated with some of you, but they failed to focus in on my personal experience in more than a peripheral way.
I nearly deleted all of this and walked away having failed in truly conveying my experience. But I waited a few minutes and let the situation ferment. After a few seconds, I knew what I had to say. I knew how to cut to the heart of the situation.
Every morning since the age of sixteen I wake up and think, “If today is too awful I can just kill myself and not have to wake up again.”
That’s it—that’s what my depression means to me. This is how I live every day of my life. It doesn’t mean I want to die, it doesn’t mean I hate my life or the people in it, and this is not a cry for help or attention. This is simply how I handle depression and without it I’d have been dead or insane years ago.
It works for me, and despite it being my greatest flaw I make no apologies.
– Josh
I bet I can guess what you’re thinking reading the title of this part. Want me to guess? If I do will you go out and buy a few of my books? Okay, here we go, I bet you’re thinking some variation of the following:
“Really?
Are we really talking about depression again?
I mean damn Josh it seems like all you ever do is talk about your struggle with depression. You go on and on like a broken record perpetually playing ‘Hit Me Baby One More Time’ but not the Britney version. No the version we’re stuck with is from an impersonator working in Branson, Missouri, Branson not even mother fucking Las Vegas or even Atlantic City!”
Am I right?
If I am then, you have my permission to stop reading now and do something fun. I recommend going to see Captain America Civil War while it’s still in the theaters. If you’ve already seen it, then the local water park (if you live in the northern hemisphere) or the ski slope (if you live in the mythical lands of the Southern Cross) are perfect for an enjoyable day out.
Still here? Awesome then let’s get down to it.
When I was, I want to say seven, but it might have been eight, all I know for sure is it was the summer my parents split up, and I assumed we were vacating the house so Dad could clear his stuff out. To facilitate this, my mother took me and my unnamed sibling camping with my paternal grandfather. The horrible biological one not the one who helped raise me. I was never clear on the details, but for some reason my grandfather was hiding out at a KOA campground. Not sure if it was because his second wife kicked him out or he was being hunted by one of his side women’s husbands. Not even joking—there is a solid possibility this is the reason.
I loved camping as a kid and really couldn’t care less why we were going to spend a week on the lake. We had a really good time while there. I think it may be the last good time I had with my bio-grandfather. It wasn’t long after the camping trip that I saw him hit my mother in the garage on Taladay Road.
On the last day of the trip, we were cleaning up the campsite and I was really sad. My mom asked me if I was depressed that we were leaving. I’m not 100% sure but I believe that was the first time I’d ever heard the term applied to me. I asked mom what she meant, and she did the best she could to explain. She told me being depressed was being sad and not being able to do anything about it. That was a poor explanation, but it did open the door for me to learn more in the years to come.
I realized my depression was far from “normal” in the eighth grade. We’d been living with my maternal grandparents for two years, and I was going through the horrors of puberty. It was the lowest point of my pre-adult life, but at the time I thought it was normal. I honestly believed everyone was wired the way I am, and it wouldn’t be until I was sixteen years old that I learned I had problems.
I’ve told the story of my first suicide attempt before, and I’m not going to bore you all with that story again. What I will say is that during the summer I spent in the looney bin, ok it was a good place and I have remained thankful for my time there, I learned I was Bi-Polar. In the years following my stint in the nuthatch I’ve done a bad job of dealing with my depression.
I’ve ignored my friends and family. I’ve been petty and cruel. I’ve ignored my depression. I’ve refused to talk about the things bothering me. I’ve blamed others for my issues. I’ve been a horrible friend. I’ve been a terrible father. I’ve been an unworthy partner. I’ve allowed my depression to reign financial ruin on my family. I’ve allowed my depression to ruin jobs. I’ve allowed my depression to destroy my self-esteem.
I could go on, but this is depressing me.
In the spring of 2012, I finally cracked and opened up to my doctor about my depression. Since then it’s been a dance of balancing medication and forcing myself to expose my flaws and secrets to the light of day. It’s worked wonders, and there are stretches of entire weeks when I don’t feel the tendrils of severe depression tickling the back of my mind. That may sound mediocre to many of you but to me it’s a miracle I would’ve never believed possible five years ago.
Sometimes I’m happy.
The whole point of this has been trying to describe what living with severe chronic depression is like, and I fear I keep coming up empty. Should I have focused on the sadness, the anxiety, the apathy, the fear, or the pain? I couldn’t decide on a single angle and instead blasted them all at you like a shotgun. After that, they all might have resonated with some of you, but they failed to focus in on my personal experience in more than a peripheral way.
I nearly deleted all of this and walked away having failed in truly conveying my experience. But I waited a few minutes and let the situation ferment. After a few seconds, I knew what I had to say. I knew how to cut to the heart of the situation.
Every morning since the age of sixteen I wake up and think, “If today is too awful I can just kill myself and not have to wake up again.”
That’s it—that’s what my depression means to me. This is how I live every day of my life. It doesn’t mean I want to die, it doesn’t mean I hate my life or the people in it, and this is not a cry for help or attention. This is simply how I handle depression and without it I’d have been dead or insane years ago.
It works for me, and despite it being my greatest flaw I make no apologies.
– Josh
