Garrison Kelly's Blog, page 121
February 10, 2015
Tales From the Hood: Hardcore Convert
MOVIE TITLE: Tales From the Hood
SUB-STORY: Hardcore Convert
DIRECTOR: Rusty Cundieff
YEAR: 1995
GENRE: Gangster Horror
RATING: R for violence, vulgar language, and male nudity
GRADE: Pass
In the final story from the Tales From the Hood anthology, Jerome Johns aka Crazy K is a psychopathic gangster who goes on a rampage and eventually gets captured by the police. After serving four years of his life sentence, Crazy K meets Dr. Cushing, a scientist who gives him the chance of being released back on the streets on the condition that he undergoes “behavioral modification”.
Crazy K thinks this is an easy way out of jail, but the physical and psychological torture he is subjected to suggests otherwise. He’s forced to have a conversation with a racist serial killer, be strapped to a spinning table while watching violent footage, and be lowered into a sensory deprivation chamber to confront the ghosts of those he murdered. Is Crazy K capable of being a respectable human being or is he just a lost cause who “Doesn’t give a fuck”?
The idea of brainwashing a violent person into becoming a pacifist has been explored before, particularly in the Anthony Burgess novel which later became a movie “A Clockwork Orange”. The conditioning techniques used in both “A Clockwork Orange” and “Hardcore Convert” are similar in the sense that the subject will become violently ill after watching or attempting brutality. The difference between the two is that the conditioning in “A Clockwork Orange” actually does its job in making the main character into a “model citizen” while Crazy K continues to defy authority.
Experimental treatments are judged on a trial and error basis, so Crazy K’s rebellious ways are believable. In fact, his multiple F-bombs and aggressive tone make him a quotable character. Just don’t quote him in a public place where children are present. Also, when somebody asks you if you’re interested in science, don’t say, “I saw a few chemicals in my day.” That doesn’t sound promising. It’s funny as hell, but not promising.
Here’s the million dollar question that I’ve always had when watching this part of Tales From the Hood. During the spinning table scene, were the sexual overtones intentional or were they accidental? I’ve wrestled with this question plenty of times in my analysis of this movie. Crazy K is wearing nothing but a black g-string (which leaves very little to the imagination), he’s being tied to a table, he has a metal ball gag in his mouth and feeding tubes in his nostrils, he has electric pasties on his nipples, he has a spring-loaded clamp on his groin, and the women who are doing all of this to him are smoking hot. Even in her 50’s, Rosalind Cash (Dr. Cushing) was a gorgeous woman, so that furthers my last point.
To answer the question of whether the sexual overtones were intentional, I’m still on the fence on that one. Yes, the spinning table scene has all of those kinky elements going on, but it also has some rather disturbing ones. The slide show that Crazy K is being shown basically compares KKK lynchings to gangs shootings. These are all brutal photos, but the bold point is being made that black gangsters are no different from white supremacists in the sense that they both randomly kill other black people. And let’s not forget, these points are being made while Crazy K is being spun around on a torture table and becoming nauseated afterwards. If there was an attempt at fan service, it fell apart the minute the table started spinning.
You can look at this final Tales From the Hood story from any angle you want. You can jokingly call it “Fifty Shades of K” or “Clockwork Orgasm” all you want, but let’s not forget that there’s a serious tale of gang violence being told in this story. The fact that Crazy K can remain defiant after everything is done says something about our society: some people just can’t be cured. You can help them all you want, but in the end, it’s up to that individual to make a conscientious decision to change his or her life. Crazy K wanted an easy way to freedom and he got schooled instead. The easiest path to your goals isn’t always the best one. Cheaters never win and winners never cheat. That’s why Crazy K is in a coffin at Simms’ Funeral Home and not at home rebuilding his life. A passing grade for a tale of tragedy.
SUB-STORY: Hardcore Convert
DIRECTOR: Rusty Cundieff
YEAR: 1995
GENRE: Gangster Horror
RATING: R for violence, vulgar language, and male nudity
GRADE: Pass
In the final story from the Tales From the Hood anthology, Jerome Johns aka Crazy K is a psychopathic gangster who goes on a rampage and eventually gets captured by the police. After serving four years of his life sentence, Crazy K meets Dr. Cushing, a scientist who gives him the chance of being released back on the streets on the condition that he undergoes “behavioral modification”.
Crazy K thinks this is an easy way out of jail, but the physical and psychological torture he is subjected to suggests otherwise. He’s forced to have a conversation with a racist serial killer, be strapped to a spinning table while watching violent footage, and be lowered into a sensory deprivation chamber to confront the ghosts of those he murdered. Is Crazy K capable of being a respectable human being or is he just a lost cause who “Doesn’t give a fuck”?
The idea of brainwashing a violent person into becoming a pacifist has been explored before, particularly in the Anthony Burgess novel which later became a movie “A Clockwork Orange”. The conditioning techniques used in both “A Clockwork Orange” and “Hardcore Convert” are similar in the sense that the subject will become violently ill after watching or attempting brutality. The difference between the two is that the conditioning in “A Clockwork Orange” actually does its job in making the main character into a “model citizen” while Crazy K continues to defy authority.
Experimental treatments are judged on a trial and error basis, so Crazy K’s rebellious ways are believable. In fact, his multiple F-bombs and aggressive tone make him a quotable character. Just don’t quote him in a public place where children are present. Also, when somebody asks you if you’re interested in science, don’t say, “I saw a few chemicals in my day.” That doesn’t sound promising. It’s funny as hell, but not promising.
Here’s the million dollar question that I’ve always had when watching this part of Tales From the Hood. During the spinning table scene, were the sexual overtones intentional or were they accidental? I’ve wrestled with this question plenty of times in my analysis of this movie. Crazy K is wearing nothing but a black g-string (which leaves very little to the imagination), he’s being tied to a table, he has a metal ball gag in his mouth and feeding tubes in his nostrils, he has electric pasties on his nipples, he has a spring-loaded clamp on his groin, and the women who are doing all of this to him are smoking hot. Even in her 50’s, Rosalind Cash (Dr. Cushing) was a gorgeous woman, so that furthers my last point.
To answer the question of whether the sexual overtones were intentional, I’m still on the fence on that one. Yes, the spinning table scene has all of those kinky elements going on, but it also has some rather disturbing ones. The slide show that Crazy K is being shown basically compares KKK lynchings to gangs shootings. These are all brutal photos, but the bold point is being made that black gangsters are no different from white supremacists in the sense that they both randomly kill other black people. And let’s not forget, these points are being made while Crazy K is being spun around on a torture table and becoming nauseated afterwards. If there was an attempt at fan service, it fell apart the minute the table started spinning.
You can look at this final Tales From the Hood story from any angle you want. You can jokingly call it “Fifty Shades of K” or “Clockwork Orgasm” all you want, but let’s not forget that there’s a serious tale of gang violence being told in this story. The fact that Crazy K can remain defiant after everything is done says something about our society: some people just can’t be cured. You can help them all you want, but in the end, it’s up to that individual to make a conscientious decision to change his or her life. Crazy K wanted an easy way to freedom and he got schooled instead. The easiest path to your goals isn’t always the best one. Cheaters never win and winners never cheat. That’s why Crazy K is in a coffin at Simms’ Funeral Home and not at home rebuilding his life. A passing grade for a tale of tragedy.
The Jeffrey Dahmer Fan Club
TEAM NAME: The Jeffrey Dahmer Fan Club
CANON: Ode to Jeffrey Dahmer
NAME: Otis Norman
AGE: 30
OCCUPATION: Unemployed
NAME: Courtney Robyn
AGE: 28
OCCUPATION: Unemployed
There once was a time during the life of Garrison’s Library that I would blog about weird dreams I had. My blog was a place for creative fuel of all kinds, dreams being no exception. The reason I don’t do it anymore is because those small bursts of creative fuel usually don’t lead anywhere. They’re just a sequence of weird events that have no application to real life. And thus, we have a short story called Ode to Jeffrey Dahmer, where a psychopathic couple go on a rampage in the name of the same serial killer they worship so much. It was a short story so nonsensical that it was eventually dumped when I had to choose stories to publish in American Darkness.
Close your eyes and let me paint a picture for you of the two sole members of the Jeffrey Dahmer Fan Club. If at any time you feel like you’re having an acid trip, you probably are and you should call 911, if not for yourself, then for Otis and Courtney. The two of them are unemployed, broke, and about to get kicked out of their poorly kept apartment. So what do they do about their economic situation? They start off by sneaking into an old man’s neighboring apartment and stealing clothes that would make Otis look like Jeffrey Dahmer: a Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts, and a fedora. Whether or not Jeffrey Dahmer actually wore those things is something that boggles my mind to this day.
Otis and Courtney hold hands together and skip down the stairs and toward their car like a couple in love. Not that two serial killer worshipers know anything about love, but who’s keeping score here? They get in their car and speed away before their landlord has a chance to harass them about rent money. During this million mile per hour chase down the streets and on the freeway, they cause so many accidents that they could be accused of committing genocide. That’s a lot of dead bodies and not enough morgues and graveyards to fill them. The cops couldn’t pull the couple over because the police too were involved in these horrendous and lethal accidents.
The reckless driving and the psychotic laughter was all for the purpose of going to the airport and sneaking on an airline flight to Moscow, Russia. Why are they going to Russia? To celebrate Halloween, of course. I know Russia is a mostly conservative country, so they probably don’t take Halloween as seriously as they would in, say, New Orleans. I’m not sure, because I didn’t research this, which is another mistake I made when writing Ode to Jeffrey Dahmer.
By the time Otis and Courtney hit the streets of Moscow, prostitutes and partygoers were hitting on Otis because of his Jeffrey Dahmer clothing. There was even a swarm of women who pulled him inside a nightclub while leaving a jealous Courtney out on the streets to freeze to death. She was so bitter and angry that she engaged in revenge sex with an entire hockey team. Otis found out what his girlfriend was doing, so he vomited his teeth into a garbage can. The story ended with Courtney sarcastically wishing her now ex-boyfriend a Happy Halloween.
Now do you know why Otis Norman and Courtney Robyn are unemployed? It’s not because I don’t have a use for psychotic characters. It’s because the story they were a part of didn’t make a goddamn lick of sense. Of course, nobody told me that I could have merely manipulated the details of my dream to fit a traditional narrative style. Imagine that: I can actually embellish details of my dreams! Who would’ve thunk it? But I’d better be careful, because the same people who sabotaged James Frey could sabotage me for being a big fucking liar! Cue the eye rolls.
The choice of clothing for Otis is also something I’d like to carry on should I use him or Courtney again. The Hawaiian shirt and fedora look is something currently being used by WWE wrestler Bray Wyatt, who coincidentally enough has the gimmick of a backwoods cult master. Does Otis Norman have what it takes to be a cultist? Absolutely. He’s the president of the Jeffrey Dahmer Fan Club, for shit’s sake. For all we know, Courtney Robyn could be his deacon. Or his altar girl, depending on how sick he can actually be. With so much potential surrounding a creepy cultist gimmick, it won’t be long before Otis and Courtney find work again. Hell, I already wrote a short poem about them. But they can do more. They certainly can do more.
***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***
(RE: Paige licking her face.)
“You don’t have to sexually harass me in order to have a good match with me!”
-Natalya from “Total Divas”-
CANON: Ode to Jeffrey Dahmer
NAME: Otis Norman
AGE: 30
OCCUPATION: Unemployed
NAME: Courtney Robyn
AGE: 28
OCCUPATION: Unemployed
There once was a time during the life of Garrison’s Library that I would blog about weird dreams I had. My blog was a place for creative fuel of all kinds, dreams being no exception. The reason I don’t do it anymore is because those small bursts of creative fuel usually don’t lead anywhere. They’re just a sequence of weird events that have no application to real life. And thus, we have a short story called Ode to Jeffrey Dahmer, where a psychopathic couple go on a rampage in the name of the same serial killer they worship so much. It was a short story so nonsensical that it was eventually dumped when I had to choose stories to publish in American Darkness.
Close your eyes and let me paint a picture for you of the two sole members of the Jeffrey Dahmer Fan Club. If at any time you feel like you’re having an acid trip, you probably are and you should call 911, if not for yourself, then for Otis and Courtney. The two of them are unemployed, broke, and about to get kicked out of their poorly kept apartment. So what do they do about their economic situation? They start off by sneaking into an old man’s neighboring apartment and stealing clothes that would make Otis look like Jeffrey Dahmer: a Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts, and a fedora. Whether or not Jeffrey Dahmer actually wore those things is something that boggles my mind to this day.
Otis and Courtney hold hands together and skip down the stairs and toward their car like a couple in love. Not that two serial killer worshipers know anything about love, but who’s keeping score here? They get in their car and speed away before their landlord has a chance to harass them about rent money. During this million mile per hour chase down the streets and on the freeway, they cause so many accidents that they could be accused of committing genocide. That’s a lot of dead bodies and not enough morgues and graveyards to fill them. The cops couldn’t pull the couple over because the police too were involved in these horrendous and lethal accidents.
The reckless driving and the psychotic laughter was all for the purpose of going to the airport and sneaking on an airline flight to Moscow, Russia. Why are they going to Russia? To celebrate Halloween, of course. I know Russia is a mostly conservative country, so they probably don’t take Halloween as seriously as they would in, say, New Orleans. I’m not sure, because I didn’t research this, which is another mistake I made when writing Ode to Jeffrey Dahmer.
By the time Otis and Courtney hit the streets of Moscow, prostitutes and partygoers were hitting on Otis because of his Jeffrey Dahmer clothing. There was even a swarm of women who pulled him inside a nightclub while leaving a jealous Courtney out on the streets to freeze to death. She was so bitter and angry that she engaged in revenge sex with an entire hockey team. Otis found out what his girlfriend was doing, so he vomited his teeth into a garbage can. The story ended with Courtney sarcastically wishing her now ex-boyfriend a Happy Halloween.
Now do you know why Otis Norman and Courtney Robyn are unemployed? It’s not because I don’t have a use for psychotic characters. It’s because the story they were a part of didn’t make a goddamn lick of sense. Of course, nobody told me that I could have merely manipulated the details of my dream to fit a traditional narrative style. Imagine that: I can actually embellish details of my dreams! Who would’ve thunk it? But I’d better be careful, because the same people who sabotaged James Frey could sabotage me for being a big fucking liar! Cue the eye rolls.
The choice of clothing for Otis is also something I’d like to carry on should I use him or Courtney again. The Hawaiian shirt and fedora look is something currently being used by WWE wrestler Bray Wyatt, who coincidentally enough has the gimmick of a backwoods cult master. Does Otis Norman have what it takes to be a cultist? Absolutely. He’s the president of the Jeffrey Dahmer Fan Club, for shit’s sake. For all we know, Courtney Robyn could be his deacon. Or his altar girl, depending on how sick he can actually be. With so much potential surrounding a creepy cultist gimmick, it won’t be long before Otis and Courtney find work again. Hell, I already wrote a short poem about them. But they can do more. They certainly can do more.
***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***
(RE: Paige licking her face.)
“You don’t have to sexually harass me in order to have a good match with me!”
-Natalya from “Total Divas”-
February 6, 2015
WWE Wrestlemania 28: Sheamus vs. Daniel Bryan
MATCH: Sheamus vs. Daniel Bryan for the latter’s World Heavyweight Championship
PROMOTION: World Wrestling Entertainment
EVENT: Wrestlemania 28
YEAR: 2012
RATING: TV-PG for mild violence
GRADE: Fail
Sheamus was first on WWE television in 2009 as part of the revived version of ECW (which wasn’t anything like the original, unfortunately). He had the size, strength, and athleticism that WWE management loves in a potential World Champion. Naturally, they booked him to go on an undefeated streak for months on end, even having him win the WWE Championship in December of that year from John Cena in a Tables Match. While the muscular and gigantic Irishman was mowing over opponents left and right, he even caught the attention of the Wrestling Observer Newsletter in 2010, who deemed him the Most Improved Wrestler of that year.
Daniel Bryan is the exact opposite of Sheamus. He arrived on WWE television in 2010 as part of the show that replaced ECW called NXT, where he was a “rookie” learning from The Miz. From the first day in the WWE, Daniel Bryan was disrespected by his peers and even caused play-by-play announcer Michael Cole to turn heel in an effort to bury him on commentary. During his time on NXT, Bryan amassed a win-loss record of 0-10 and continued to be booked in losing situations throughout 2010 and 2011. He won the World Heavyweight Championship from the Big Show in December of 2011, but only because he had the Money in the Bank briefcase and cashed it in at a vulnerable opportunity.
All of this hatred for Bryan from WWE management stemmed from his “dorky” personality and short stature. And yet, the Wrestling Observer Newsletter awarded him Match of the Year one time and Most Outstanding and Best Technical Wrestler multiple times during his career on the independent circuit. The clash of opinions between the “internet dorks” and WWE management was not lost on the audience.
Fast forward to 2012 where Sheamus is a wildly popular baby face and Daniel Bryan is a cowardly heel who celebrates disqualification and count-out victories. Sheamus won the Royal Rumble in January and got to choose which World Champion to face at Wrestlemania: CM Punk or Daniel Bryan. Sheamus chose the latter of those two and the match was booked.
But having a match booked in advance is very different from having a match properly promoted. In most normal championship matches, the baby face is the one who has to overcome insurmountable odds to win the belt. Not the case with Sheamus. He had the size and the violent momentum while Daniel Bryan was running away and being a sheepish coward. Betting the house on Sheamus winning in convincing fashion would make you a rich man by now.
And then the World Heavyweight Championship match took place at Wrestlemania 28. The fans in attendance were expecting a war between these two. They expected Sheamus’ powerful brawling style to clash with Daniel Bryan’s fast-paced technical style in a battle where concussions, blood, and welts would have been considered normal. Here’s how it really went down. Daniel Bryan’s storyline girlfriend AJ Lee gets on the apron and the two of them share a pre-match kiss. Daniel Bryan turns around and gets a Brogue Kick to the face, which is Sheamus’ finishing move. Sheamus pins Bryan 1-2-3 and wins the title in a record-setting 18 seconds. When Five Finger Death Punch put out the album “War Is the Answer”, they clearly didn’t have this drive-by abortion of a match in mind.
To say that the fans were pissed off would be an understatement. To say that they were in a riotous rage would be more appropriate assumption. The fans booed Sheamus out of the building (despite him being a baby face) and cheered wildly for Daniel Bryan (despite him being a heel). You have to remember that this is a new day in wrestling. The fans won’t blindly cheer for baby faces and blindly boo heels anymore. With universal internet access, you can find out backstage facts about your favorite wrestlers and form your own opinion of them. The fans still love Daniel Bryan to this day and cheer their heads off for him everywhere he goes. The WWE tried to bury his legacy and now he’s the most popular guy on the roster. The fans got ripped off and the bookers for this match have egg on their faces.
At this point, it shouldn’t come as a surprise anymore that WWE management doesn’t enjoy the work of Daniel Bryan. However, I believe his attempted burial at Wrestlemania 28 had more to do with something else disturbing. A few weeks before his match with Sheamus, Daniel Bryan interfered in a match featuring Randy Orton and caused a No Contest when he clocked Orton in the back of the head with his title belt. Randy Orton was diagnosed with a concussion and written of WWE television for the next few weeks.
If you’re knowledgeable of backstage politics like I am, you know why concussing Randy Orton is a big deal. The man is the corporate face of WWE. He has all the big matches and all the movie deals, so he has a lot of power when it comes to making decisions about other wrestlers.
In 2009, he complained to management after a wrestler by the name of Mr. Kennedy “botched” a back suplex on him. Mr. Kennedy was fired the next day. Kofi Kingston was in a match with Orton and “botched” the ending. Now Kofi Kingston is a mid-card joke. Roman Reigns and Seth Rollins called Randy Orton out for botching part of the Money in the Bank Ladder Match in 2013. Those two lost their Tag Team Championship months later. So it’s okay for Orton to botch as many times as he wants, but for other people to botch is suddenly heresy. That’s how much power Randy Orton has; he’s untouchable. He just might be the reason why Daniel Bryan lost his championship in 18 seconds. I don’t know, but it’s a damn good guess.
Ever since that god-awful championship match, Sheamus continued to steamroll through opponents and Daniel Bryan continued to be underrated in defeat. But don’t feel too bad for Daniel Bryan, because after forming a successful tag team with Kane, the fans REALLY started to get behind him and he won three more World Titles. But here’s the thing: he didn’t win those titles by being cowardly and sneaky. He won them by being a superior wrestler to his opponents. Hell, at Wrestlemania 30, he defeated three future Hall of Famers in the same night to become the new World Champion, in what would be the most defining moment of Bryan’s career. The moral of the story: you can bury Bryan all you want, but he’s going to keep scratching and clawing until he breathes fresh oxygen once again.
PROMOTION: World Wrestling Entertainment
EVENT: Wrestlemania 28
YEAR: 2012
RATING: TV-PG for mild violence
GRADE: Fail
Sheamus was first on WWE television in 2009 as part of the revived version of ECW (which wasn’t anything like the original, unfortunately). He had the size, strength, and athleticism that WWE management loves in a potential World Champion. Naturally, they booked him to go on an undefeated streak for months on end, even having him win the WWE Championship in December of that year from John Cena in a Tables Match. While the muscular and gigantic Irishman was mowing over opponents left and right, he even caught the attention of the Wrestling Observer Newsletter in 2010, who deemed him the Most Improved Wrestler of that year.
Daniel Bryan is the exact opposite of Sheamus. He arrived on WWE television in 2010 as part of the show that replaced ECW called NXT, where he was a “rookie” learning from The Miz. From the first day in the WWE, Daniel Bryan was disrespected by his peers and even caused play-by-play announcer Michael Cole to turn heel in an effort to bury him on commentary. During his time on NXT, Bryan amassed a win-loss record of 0-10 and continued to be booked in losing situations throughout 2010 and 2011. He won the World Heavyweight Championship from the Big Show in December of 2011, but only because he had the Money in the Bank briefcase and cashed it in at a vulnerable opportunity.
All of this hatred for Bryan from WWE management stemmed from his “dorky” personality and short stature. And yet, the Wrestling Observer Newsletter awarded him Match of the Year one time and Most Outstanding and Best Technical Wrestler multiple times during his career on the independent circuit. The clash of opinions between the “internet dorks” and WWE management was not lost on the audience.
Fast forward to 2012 where Sheamus is a wildly popular baby face and Daniel Bryan is a cowardly heel who celebrates disqualification and count-out victories. Sheamus won the Royal Rumble in January and got to choose which World Champion to face at Wrestlemania: CM Punk or Daniel Bryan. Sheamus chose the latter of those two and the match was booked.
But having a match booked in advance is very different from having a match properly promoted. In most normal championship matches, the baby face is the one who has to overcome insurmountable odds to win the belt. Not the case with Sheamus. He had the size and the violent momentum while Daniel Bryan was running away and being a sheepish coward. Betting the house on Sheamus winning in convincing fashion would make you a rich man by now.
And then the World Heavyweight Championship match took place at Wrestlemania 28. The fans in attendance were expecting a war between these two. They expected Sheamus’ powerful brawling style to clash with Daniel Bryan’s fast-paced technical style in a battle where concussions, blood, and welts would have been considered normal. Here’s how it really went down. Daniel Bryan’s storyline girlfriend AJ Lee gets on the apron and the two of them share a pre-match kiss. Daniel Bryan turns around and gets a Brogue Kick to the face, which is Sheamus’ finishing move. Sheamus pins Bryan 1-2-3 and wins the title in a record-setting 18 seconds. When Five Finger Death Punch put out the album “War Is the Answer”, they clearly didn’t have this drive-by abortion of a match in mind.
To say that the fans were pissed off would be an understatement. To say that they were in a riotous rage would be more appropriate assumption. The fans booed Sheamus out of the building (despite him being a baby face) and cheered wildly for Daniel Bryan (despite him being a heel). You have to remember that this is a new day in wrestling. The fans won’t blindly cheer for baby faces and blindly boo heels anymore. With universal internet access, you can find out backstage facts about your favorite wrestlers and form your own opinion of them. The fans still love Daniel Bryan to this day and cheer their heads off for him everywhere he goes. The WWE tried to bury his legacy and now he’s the most popular guy on the roster. The fans got ripped off and the bookers for this match have egg on their faces.
At this point, it shouldn’t come as a surprise anymore that WWE management doesn’t enjoy the work of Daniel Bryan. However, I believe his attempted burial at Wrestlemania 28 had more to do with something else disturbing. A few weeks before his match with Sheamus, Daniel Bryan interfered in a match featuring Randy Orton and caused a No Contest when he clocked Orton in the back of the head with his title belt. Randy Orton was diagnosed with a concussion and written of WWE television for the next few weeks.
If you’re knowledgeable of backstage politics like I am, you know why concussing Randy Orton is a big deal. The man is the corporate face of WWE. He has all the big matches and all the movie deals, so he has a lot of power when it comes to making decisions about other wrestlers.
In 2009, he complained to management after a wrestler by the name of Mr. Kennedy “botched” a back suplex on him. Mr. Kennedy was fired the next day. Kofi Kingston was in a match with Orton and “botched” the ending. Now Kofi Kingston is a mid-card joke. Roman Reigns and Seth Rollins called Randy Orton out for botching part of the Money in the Bank Ladder Match in 2013. Those two lost their Tag Team Championship months later. So it’s okay for Orton to botch as many times as he wants, but for other people to botch is suddenly heresy. That’s how much power Randy Orton has; he’s untouchable. He just might be the reason why Daniel Bryan lost his championship in 18 seconds. I don’t know, but it’s a damn good guess.
Ever since that god-awful championship match, Sheamus continued to steamroll through opponents and Daniel Bryan continued to be underrated in defeat. But don’t feel too bad for Daniel Bryan, because after forming a successful tag team with Kane, the fans REALLY started to get behind him and he won three more World Titles. But here’s the thing: he didn’t win those titles by being cowardly and sneaky. He won them by being a superior wrestler to his opponents. Hell, at Wrestlemania 30, he defeated three future Hall of Famers in the same night to become the new World Champion, in what would be the most defining moment of Bryan’s career. The moral of the story: you can bury Bryan all you want, but he’s going to keep scratching and clawing until he breathes fresh oxygen once again.
February 4, 2015
Wilde & Jung
TEAM NAME: Wilde & Jung
NAME: Bellatrix Wilde
AGE: 50
OCCUPATION: Mad Scientist
CANON: Wilde & Jung
NAME: Cletus Jung
AGE: 45
OCCUPATION: Monster Psychologist
CANON: Wilde & Jung
Ever since playing Final Fantasy IV and fighting the ultra-insane Dr. Lugae and his bumbling creation Barnabas, I’ve had an obsession with the mad scientist occupation. I went with that angle in 2002 when I created Dr. Scott Cain and Dr. Herman Stan (then known as Dr. James Lugae). After those two raped and sodomized everything in their paths, here I am in early 2011 thinking to myself, “How can I out-crazy those two freaks of nature?” Come on over, Bellatrix Wilde and Cletus Jung. Because as American Bang once said, “We are wild and young! We have just begun!”
In order to out-crazy the likes of Scott Cain and Herman Stan, I had to make these two new characters into 100% Complete Monsters. It was the only way. Bellatrix and Cletus had a daughter together and they molested the shit out of her until she was a legal adult. Not shocked yet? How about the fact that they create and psychological taint monsters for a living and set them loose on the city? Still feeling numb? Then try this shit on for size: these two nut jobs decided to outdo themselves and create Gorgeous George, a slobbering, green blooded, razor fanged, heartless, brainless ogre who would have snapped Cletus Jung’s spine if Bellatrix Wilde wasn’t there to rescue him. It’s so nice to see such a beautiful couple working together…and then having hot tub sex afterwards.
In case Gorgeous George wasn’t doing enough damage to the fictional version of Portland, Cletus and Bellatrix pulled together some money and hired an assassin who’s twice as fucked up as they are, but two decades younger and ten times hotter. Her name was Nina Machete and her only job was to rape the shit out of an autistic trauma patient named Elijah Mellows and give him a goopy black version of the clap. Apparently, Elijah’s testimony would have been enough to lock Bellatrix and Cletus away for a long time, despite the fact that Portland’s police force is running scared.
With so much chaos, blood, and mayhem painting the streets of Portland, there were only so many ways to live under such a society. The first solution was a tragic one that claimed the life of one of Portland’s most profound psychologists: Dr. Charlie Graeme. He was the only hope for this city and even he cracked under pressure, even with the wisdom of a 55-year-old man. Dr. Graeme locked himself in his office and committed suicide via hanging from his work desk. He had no idea how many people cried for him and still wouldn’t know even to this day.
Dr. Charlie Graeme left one last solution for the people of Portland and that would be the second way of coping with the violence: leave the fucking city. You know your city is a crappy place to live when the only solution is to give up and let it burn to the fucking ground. To help with that was a very good friend of Dr. Graeme’s: an intercity bus driver named Kelly O’Brien. Her bus driving skills alone would be enough to transport the remaining population of Portland out of the city and to literally a tropical paradise. Elijah Mellows, who was riding in the seat right behind Kelly, led the passengers in singing “They Dance Alone” by Sting. That heartwarming moment alone was enough to bring hope to traumatized citizens of a citywide madhouse.
But whatever happened to Bellatrix Wilde and Cletus Jung, the original two subjects of this blog post? Remember what I said about letting Portland burn to the ground? Well, legend has it that the chaos the two scientists have caused was so out of hand that the city did indeed collapse on itself and take those two nitwits with them. That’s what the legend says. Nobody knows for sure because nobody wants to go over there to find out and possibly get eaten by Gorgeous George. Or sodomized by Wilde and Jung, one of those two.
There are three reasons why Wilde & Jung was a flop. One, it was only 11 chapters long, which meant only so many words, which meant no agent would take it, so I didn’t try. Secondly, the style of writing I employed at the time could only be described as a hyperbolic joke every other sentence, which amounted to awkward and generally shitty writing on my part. But the third reason is the one that’s most important: because nobody likes Complete Monsters. Even the most hardcore horror fans will tell you that these kinds of characters are hard to deal with. There are devout BDSM practitioners who despise Christian Grey; that’s saying a lot! So if Wilde and Jung ever get the band back together, maybe I could tone down the CM level just a little bit.
***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“’More than happy.’ People like to say that a lot, don’t they. ‘Oh, I’ll be more than happy to do that for you.’ Doesn’t that sound like some kind of mental disease to you? ‘Aw, man, we had to lock him up in the loony bin. He just wasn’t right in the head. He was…more than happy!’”
-George Carlin-
NAME: Bellatrix Wilde
AGE: 50
OCCUPATION: Mad Scientist
CANON: Wilde & Jung
NAME: Cletus Jung
AGE: 45
OCCUPATION: Monster Psychologist
CANON: Wilde & Jung
Ever since playing Final Fantasy IV and fighting the ultra-insane Dr. Lugae and his bumbling creation Barnabas, I’ve had an obsession with the mad scientist occupation. I went with that angle in 2002 when I created Dr. Scott Cain and Dr. Herman Stan (then known as Dr. James Lugae). After those two raped and sodomized everything in their paths, here I am in early 2011 thinking to myself, “How can I out-crazy those two freaks of nature?” Come on over, Bellatrix Wilde and Cletus Jung. Because as American Bang once said, “We are wild and young! We have just begun!”
In order to out-crazy the likes of Scott Cain and Herman Stan, I had to make these two new characters into 100% Complete Monsters. It was the only way. Bellatrix and Cletus had a daughter together and they molested the shit out of her until she was a legal adult. Not shocked yet? How about the fact that they create and psychological taint monsters for a living and set them loose on the city? Still feeling numb? Then try this shit on for size: these two nut jobs decided to outdo themselves and create Gorgeous George, a slobbering, green blooded, razor fanged, heartless, brainless ogre who would have snapped Cletus Jung’s spine if Bellatrix Wilde wasn’t there to rescue him. It’s so nice to see such a beautiful couple working together…and then having hot tub sex afterwards.
In case Gorgeous George wasn’t doing enough damage to the fictional version of Portland, Cletus and Bellatrix pulled together some money and hired an assassin who’s twice as fucked up as they are, but two decades younger and ten times hotter. Her name was Nina Machete and her only job was to rape the shit out of an autistic trauma patient named Elijah Mellows and give him a goopy black version of the clap. Apparently, Elijah’s testimony would have been enough to lock Bellatrix and Cletus away for a long time, despite the fact that Portland’s police force is running scared.
With so much chaos, blood, and mayhem painting the streets of Portland, there were only so many ways to live under such a society. The first solution was a tragic one that claimed the life of one of Portland’s most profound psychologists: Dr. Charlie Graeme. He was the only hope for this city and even he cracked under pressure, even with the wisdom of a 55-year-old man. Dr. Graeme locked himself in his office and committed suicide via hanging from his work desk. He had no idea how many people cried for him and still wouldn’t know even to this day.
Dr. Charlie Graeme left one last solution for the people of Portland and that would be the second way of coping with the violence: leave the fucking city. You know your city is a crappy place to live when the only solution is to give up and let it burn to the fucking ground. To help with that was a very good friend of Dr. Graeme’s: an intercity bus driver named Kelly O’Brien. Her bus driving skills alone would be enough to transport the remaining population of Portland out of the city and to literally a tropical paradise. Elijah Mellows, who was riding in the seat right behind Kelly, led the passengers in singing “They Dance Alone” by Sting. That heartwarming moment alone was enough to bring hope to traumatized citizens of a citywide madhouse.
But whatever happened to Bellatrix Wilde and Cletus Jung, the original two subjects of this blog post? Remember what I said about letting Portland burn to the ground? Well, legend has it that the chaos the two scientists have caused was so out of hand that the city did indeed collapse on itself and take those two nitwits with them. That’s what the legend says. Nobody knows for sure because nobody wants to go over there to find out and possibly get eaten by Gorgeous George. Or sodomized by Wilde and Jung, one of those two.
There are three reasons why Wilde & Jung was a flop. One, it was only 11 chapters long, which meant only so many words, which meant no agent would take it, so I didn’t try. Secondly, the style of writing I employed at the time could only be described as a hyperbolic joke every other sentence, which amounted to awkward and generally shitty writing on my part. But the third reason is the one that’s most important: because nobody likes Complete Monsters. Even the most hardcore horror fans will tell you that these kinds of characters are hard to deal with. There are devout BDSM practitioners who despise Christian Grey; that’s saying a lot! So if Wilde and Jung ever get the band back together, maybe I could tone down the CM level just a little bit.
***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“’More than happy.’ People like to say that a lot, don’t they. ‘Oh, I’ll be more than happy to do that for you.’ Doesn’t that sound like some kind of mental disease to you? ‘Aw, man, we had to lock him up in the loony bin. He just wasn’t right in the head. He was…more than happy!’”
-George Carlin-
February 1, 2015
Pulp Fiction
MOVIE TITLE: Pulp Fiction
DIRECTOR: Quentin Tarantino
YEAR: 1994
GENRE: Crime Drama
RATING: R for violence, blood, frequent vulgar language, and sodomy
GRADE: Extra Credit
The overall Pulp Fiction story is a telling of four different crime stories and how by the end of the movie they all intertwine into one underbelly tale. The first quarter of the movie sees low-rent hit men Jules and Vincent retrieving a valuable briefcase for their boss Marcellus Wallace at the expense of the punk kids who stole it.
The second quarter sees Vincent taking Marcellus’ wife Mia out for dinner and dancing at Jack Rabbit Slims and then having to revive her after an overdose.
The third quarter sees heavyweight boxer Butch Coolidge double-crossing Marcellus and then having to secretly retrieve a valuable golden watch from his apartment.
The final portion of the story goes back to the first where Vincent accidentally shoots an informant in Jules’ car and the two of them need to get off the road for a while. Four tales of bloodshed, forced sex, and drug abuse; what else could you ask for in an R-rated crime drama?
There are many theories as to why Pulp Fiction isn’t shown chronologically. My personal theory is because of each character’s path to development. The further the movie goes, the more personal and profound the development.
The first story shows Jules and Vincent doing their job successfully and retrieving a stupid briefcase. It’s early in the story, so not a lot of development will take place.
The second story sees Vincent shooting adrenaline into Mia’s heart and the two of them going from being awkward strangers to the best of friends.
The third story sees Butch rescuing Marcellus Wallace from being sodomized in a pawn shop and the two of them resolving their differences.
But the fourth story, as in the middle of the chronology, is where Jules transforms from a heartless mafia grunt to a soldier of God and the spreader of peaceful messages. We start off with retrieving a stupid briefcase to a total heel to face turn, with some friendships made in the middle. It doesn’t get more developed than that.
The one element of the story that really turned this movie into a cult classic was the dialogue Tarantino wrote for each of his characters. The director grew up in the underbelly of society and absorbed a lot of the vulgar, racist, and sexual dialogue that was used by those criminals.
Criminals have no need for class or political correctness, so the dialogue is perfect for this movie. I’ve personally tried to adopt Quentin Tarantino’s style of speech into my own writing and it sounded sloppy. Mr. Tarantino is the master of what he does; often imitated, never duplicated.
Because of such colorful and creative language, Pulp Fiction is easily one of the most quotable movies of all time. To me and my family personally, quoting this movie is a tradition. There was even a time when I had the entire movie memorized.
Every conversation in this movie counted for something whether it was the sensuality of foot massages, the absence of a certain “sign” in front of Jimmy’s lawn, pigs being filthy animals and therefore inedible, or two rapist serial killers using a child’s nursery rhyme to randomly determine their next victim. If your ears aren’t open for this kick-ass dialogue, then you’re missing out on a huge portion of what makes this movie special.
After hearing everything that needs to be heard, do you at all feel like taking out your wallet (the one that says “Bad Motherfucker”) and forking over some cash to see this 90’s classic? Not only will you say “yes” one time, but you’ll watch this movie over and over again until every last word is etched in your mind and you can recite the whole thing by heart.
It should be no surprise that a movie with this much of a lasting effect would get an Extra Credit grade not only from little old me, but from every movie critic on the planet. That is, unless of course you have a 5th grade point of view and are too grossed out by the sodomy in the third story (but are perfectly okay with Butch performing oral sex on his girlfriend).
DIRECTOR: Quentin Tarantino
YEAR: 1994
GENRE: Crime Drama
RATING: R for violence, blood, frequent vulgar language, and sodomy
GRADE: Extra Credit
The overall Pulp Fiction story is a telling of four different crime stories and how by the end of the movie they all intertwine into one underbelly tale. The first quarter of the movie sees low-rent hit men Jules and Vincent retrieving a valuable briefcase for their boss Marcellus Wallace at the expense of the punk kids who stole it.
The second quarter sees Vincent taking Marcellus’ wife Mia out for dinner and dancing at Jack Rabbit Slims and then having to revive her after an overdose.
The third quarter sees heavyweight boxer Butch Coolidge double-crossing Marcellus and then having to secretly retrieve a valuable golden watch from his apartment.
The final portion of the story goes back to the first where Vincent accidentally shoots an informant in Jules’ car and the two of them need to get off the road for a while. Four tales of bloodshed, forced sex, and drug abuse; what else could you ask for in an R-rated crime drama?
There are many theories as to why Pulp Fiction isn’t shown chronologically. My personal theory is because of each character’s path to development. The further the movie goes, the more personal and profound the development.
The first story shows Jules and Vincent doing their job successfully and retrieving a stupid briefcase. It’s early in the story, so not a lot of development will take place.
The second story sees Vincent shooting adrenaline into Mia’s heart and the two of them going from being awkward strangers to the best of friends.
The third story sees Butch rescuing Marcellus Wallace from being sodomized in a pawn shop and the two of them resolving their differences.
But the fourth story, as in the middle of the chronology, is where Jules transforms from a heartless mafia grunt to a soldier of God and the spreader of peaceful messages. We start off with retrieving a stupid briefcase to a total heel to face turn, with some friendships made in the middle. It doesn’t get more developed than that.
The one element of the story that really turned this movie into a cult classic was the dialogue Tarantino wrote for each of his characters. The director grew up in the underbelly of society and absorbed a lot of the vulgar, racist, and sexual dialogue that was used by those criminals.
Criminals have no need for class or political correctness, so the dialogue is perfect for this movie. I’ve personally tried to adopt Quentin Tarantino’s style of speech into my own writing and it sounded sloppy. Mr. Tarantino is the master of what he does; often imitated, never duplicated.
Because of such colorful and creative language, Pulp Fiction is easily one of the most quotable movies of all time. To me and my family personally, quoting this movie is a tradition. There was even a time when I had the entire movie memorized.
Every conversation in this movie counted for something whether it was the sensuality of foot massages, the absence of a certain “sign” in front of Jimmy’s lawn, pigs being filthy animals and therefore inedible, or two rapist serial killers using a child’s nursery rhyme to randomly determine their next victim. If your ears aren’t open for this kick-ass dialogue, then you’re missing out on a huge portion of what makes this movie special.
After hearing everything that needs to be heard, do you at all feel like taking out your wallet (the one that says “Bad Motherfucker”) and forking over some cash to see this 90’s classic? Not only will you say “yes” one time, but you’ll watch this movie over and over again until every last word is etched in your mind and you can recite the whole thing by heart.
It should be no surprise that a movie with this much of a lasting effect would get an Extra Credit grade not only from little old me, but from every movie critic on the planet. That is, unless of course you have a 5th grade point of view and are too grossed out by the sodomy in the third story (but are perfectly okay with Butch performing oral sex on his girlfriend).
January 31, 2015
Cheaters
TV SHOW TITLE: Cheaters
CREATOR: Bobby Goldstein
YEARS ACTIVE: 2000-present
GENRE: Reality Television
RATING: TV-14 for language, sexual content, and mild violence
GRADE: Mixed
Deep in the heart of Texas, the Cheaters Private Investigators go undercover as they try to catch their clients’ significant others cheating on their relationship with other partners. Each “story” starts with the client giving a brief description of his or her relationship issues and then the PI’s go on a camera stakeout of the cheating partner’s whereabouts.
After seeing the footage of infidelity, the client then is given the choice to confront his or her cheating paramour, to which they always say “yes”. Every confrontation is nasty, violent, and laced with censored swear words.
Let’s face it, the confrontations are the only real reason anybody watches the show. We like action and WWE and UFC won’t always come through for us. Unlike those two organizations, the fights on Cheaters aren’t even close to being graceful or athletic. Sometimes it’s a slap fight. Sometimes drinks are thrown. Most of the time, people just roll around on top of each other and throw haymakers.
It’s not Jackie Chan cinema, but it’s entertaining to watch nonetheless. It’s even more entertaining when these fights end up in the favor of the clients and not the cheating bastards he or she is confronting.
But sometimes it doesn’t always work out for the client and he or she gets an undeserved verbal or physical beat down. The reason this show gets a mixed grade is because the injustices happen way too often. One example is with the Trevor Olson case, where Trevor was really skinny and his girlfriend’s lover Sean was this hulking behemoth. Guess who won the shoving matches while having an over-inflated ego about it? That’s right: Sean.
The most infamous example of romantic injustice was with the Lily Santiago case, where the cheating husband shouted curses at her and the female paramour beat the crap out of her on live TV. Despite the mountain of evidence Lily had against her husband in a potential divorce case, the husband still had a massive ego and was still verbally abusive, which led me to believe he might have won the case.
Another issue that needs to be touched on is the revolving door of hosts for the show. First it was an unexciting bore named Tommy Grand. And then we had Joey Greco, who was full of puns, delightfully condescending to the cheating party, and protective and valiant toward his clients. Joey was such an awesome host that he got to do the show for a little over a decade before his hosting duties were turned over to Clark Gable III.
No, you didn’t read that wrong. The grandson of famous actor Clark Gable is now doing an unsophisticated piece of television called Cheaters. During the first season he did, Clark raised his voice and was generally annoying to listen to. The following seasons, he was too laidback and had no passion for his duties whatsoever. Maybe instead of asking “Scooby-Doo, where are you?!”, we should pose that question to Joey Greco.
In spite of the mixed grade I give this show, I continued to watch it with religious zeal. It was my Saturday night ritual: watching Cheaters with my best friend Susan as the two of us make fun of the dumb characters. We also like to poke fun at the commercials for Belviq that come on during the show, where the actors seem overly confused about their eating habits and then all of the sudden have an overactive social life after taking the pills.
This WAS our Saturday night ritual and then for some reason, Joe TV, a local Seattle channel, decided to stop showing Cheaters. My Roku won’t come through for me either. To say I’m having Cheaters withdrawal is an understatement. Come back, guys! Come back! I’ll raise your grade to Extra Credit if you do! I promise! Scout’s honor, even though I’m not a Boy Scout.
CREATOR: Bobby Goldstein
YEARS ACTIVE: 2000-present
GENRE: Reality Television
RATING: TV-14 for language, sexual content, and mild violence
GRADE: Mixed
Deep in the heart of Texas, the Cheaters Private Investigators go undercover as they try to catch their clients’ significant others cheating on their relationship with other partners. Each “story” starts with the client giving a brief description of his or her relationship issues and then the PI’s go on a camera stakeout of the cheating partner’s whereabouts.
After seeing the footage of infidelity, the client then is given the choice to confront his or her cheating paramour, to which they always say “yes”. Every confrontation is nasty, violent, and laced with censored swear words.
Let’s face it, the confrontations are the only real reason anybody watches the show. We like action and WWE and UFC won’t always come through for us. Unlike those two organizations, the fights on Cheaters aren’t even close to being graceful or athletic. Sometimes it’s a slap fight. Sometimes drinks are thrown. Most of the time, people just roll around on top of each other and throw haymakers.
It’s not Jackie Chan cinema, but it’s entertaining to watch nonetheless. It’s even more entertaining when these fights end up in the favor of the clients and not the cheating bastards he or she is confronting.
But sometimes it doesn’t always work out for the client and he or she gets an undeserved verbal or physical beat down. The reason this show gets a mixed grade is because the injustices happen way too often. One example is with the Trevor Olson case, where Trevor was really skinny and his girlfriend’s lover Sean was this hulking behemoth. Guess who won the shoving matches while having an over-inflated ego about it? That’s right: Sean.
The most infamous example of romantic injustice was with the Lily Santiago case, where the cheating husband shouted curses at her and the female paramour beat the crap out of her on live TV. Despite the mountain of evidence Lily had against her husband in a potential divorce case, the husband still had a massive ego and was still verbally abusive, which led me to believe he might have won the case.
Another issue that needs to be touched on is the revolving door of hosts for the show. First it was an unexciting bore named Tommy Grand. And then we had Joey Greco, who was full of puns, delightfully condescending to the cheating party, and protective and valiant toward his clients. Joey was such an awesome host that he got to do the show for a little over a decade before his hosting duties were turned over to Clark Gable III.
No, you didn’t read that wrong. The grandson of famous actor Clark Gable is now doing an unsophisticated piece of television called Cheaters. During the first season he did, Clark raised his voice and was generally annoying to listen to. The following seasons, he was too laidback and had no passion for his duties whatsoever. Maybe instead of asking “Scooby-Doo, where are you?!”, we should pose that question to Joey Greco.
In spite of the mixed grade I give this show, I continued to watch it with religious zeal. It was my Saturday night ritual: watching Cheaters with my best friend Susan as the two of us make fun of the dumb characters. We also like to poke fun at the commercials for Belviq that come on during the show, where the actors seem overly confused about their eating habits and then all of the sudden have an overactive social life after taking the pills.
This WAS our Saturday night ritual and then for some reason, Joe TV, a local Seattle channel, decided to stop showing Cheaters. My Roku won’t come through for me either. To say I’m having Cheaters withdrawal is an understatement. Come back, guys! Come back! I’ll raise your grade to Extra Credit if you do! I promise! Scout’s honor, even though I’m not a Boy Scout.
Fed Up
MOVIE TITLE: Fed Up
DIRECTOR: Katie Couric
YEAR: 2014
GENRE: Documentary
RATING: PG-13 for language and politics
GRADE: Mixed
Fed Up explores the many facets of American food culture from our obsession with sugar and unhealthy chemicals to constant advertising to the end result of it all: obesity. Processed foods have been portrayed as being deadlier than drugs or alcohol since more people die from eating disorders than from lung cancer.
The eating habits of three different families across the country have been monitored by the Fed Up crew and they all are suffering the emotional and physical effects of obesity. There seems to be no immediate hope for this epidemic since politicians, both democrat and republican, are constantly being bought off by food lobbyists. Will we ever break our obsession or will future generations grow up to die at a young age?
Just like with any movie that I give a mixed grade to, there are positives and negatives that need to be explored. The positives are no-brainers. The message of the movie is well-intentioned: be good to your body and your body will be good to you in return. We will eventually come to a point in our lives when we have to pay closer attention to taking care of ourselves.
The message is further spread with the extensive research the writers of this movie did. No stone is left unturned from what chemicals different foods have to which politicians represent which food corporations. The arguments made are so convincing that the message is easy to believe no matter what the audience members’ core beliefs are. Kudos to the Fed Up crew for putting in the hard work and getting things done.
But just like with any ideology or political message, there’s a difference between sharing your views and preaching them with almost religious zeal. The big negative this documentary has falls under the latter of those two extremes. While I do commend them for acknowledging that food addiction is a real thing and not just an excuse for weakness, it still feels like they’re telling me that the next bite of Taco Bell or McDonald’s food I take will be my last.
We all have our guilty pleasures and there are times when it’s best just to respect those pleasures. Eating fresh fruit and vegetables all the time might sound like a healthy idea, but it gets boring after a while. And when you get bored with your food choices, you get depressed. And when you get depressed, you reach for that sizzling steak Quesarito and go back to the cycle of addiction.
With the feeling of impending doom on the horizon, Fed Up feels more like a sermon and less like a diet plan. If I wanted to be showered in religious zeal, I would watch God Loves Uganda. But I didn’t. I watched Fed Up because I wanted hope. I didn’t get any by the time it was all over. In fact, I felt worse about my body than I did before.
In the end, what I believe will save is all won’t be one documentary, one diet and exercise plan, or one influential voice. We need a network of different ideas and support systems. A problem shared is a problem halved. I just wish the Fed Up crew would share my problem instead of making me feel guilty for having one.
DIRECTOR: Katie Couric
YEAR: 2014
GENRE: Documentary
RATING: PG-13 for language and politics
GRADE: Mixed
Fed Up explores the many facets of American food culture from our obsession with sugar and unhealthy chemicals to constant advertising to the end result of it all: obesity. Processed foods have been portrayed as being deadlier than drugs or alcohol since more people die from eating disorders than from lung cancer.
The eating habits of three different families across the country have been monitored by the Fed Up crew and they all are suffering the emotional and physical effects of obesity. There seems to be no immediate hope for this epidemic since politicians, both democrat and republican, are constantly being bought off by food lobbyists. Will we ever break our obsession or will future generations grow up to die at a young age?
Just like with any movie that I give a mixed grade to, there are positives and negatives that need to be explored. The positives are no-brainers. The message of the movie is well-intentioned: be good to your body and your body will be good to you in return. We will eventually come to a point in our lives when we have to pay closer attention to taking care of ourselves.
The message is further spread with the extensive research the writers of this movie did. No stone is left unturned from what chemicals different foods have to which politicians represent which food corporations. The arguments made are so convincing that the message is easy to believe no matter what the audience members’ core beliefs are. Kudos to the Fed Up crew for putting in the hard work and getting things done.
But just like with any ideology or political message, there’s a difference between sharing your views and preaching them with almost religious zeal. The big negative this documentary has falls under the latter of those two extremes. While I do commend them for acknowledging that food addiction is a real thing and not just an excuse for weakness, it still feels like they’re telling me that the next bite of Taco Bell or McDonald’s food I take will be my last.
We all have our guilty pleasures and there are times when it’s best just to respect those pleasures. Eating fresh fruit and vegetables all the time might sound like a healthy idea, but it gets boring after a while. And when you get bored with your food choices, you get depressed. And when you get depressed, you reach for that sizzling steak Quesarito and go back to the cycle of addiction.
With the feeling of impending doom on the horizon, Fed Up feels more like a sermon and less like a diet plan. If I wanted to be showered in religious zeal, I would watch God Loves Uganda. But I didn’t. I watched Fed Up because I wanted hope. I didn’t get any by the time it was all over. In fact, I felt worse about my body than I did before.
In the end, what I believe will save is all won’t be one documentary, one diet and exercise plan, or one influential voice. We need a network of different ideas and support systems. A problem shared is a problem halved. I just wish the Fed Up crew would share my problem instead of making me feel guilty for having one.
Makoto Lionheart
NAME: Makoto Lionheart
AGE: 18
OCCUPATION: Samurai Clown
CANON: The Macaroni & Ownage Project
Those stats alone should tell you how much of a colorful character Makoto had the potential to be. How many samurai clowns are there in this world? And how many people can genuinely say they were part of something called The Macaroni & Ownage Project, whatever the hell that is? It’s a delightfully weird hodgepodge we’ve got going on here. And yet, when I dropped the ball with Makoto, it was the size of a bowling ball and it broke my fucking foot. What could have possibly went wrong with such a chaotic character? Well, seeing as how none of the chaos was controlled, I can think of a number of ways.
In 2007, I wrote a fantasy movie script called The Macaroni & Ownage Project, where a bunch of medieval juggalos rebel against an oppressive and religiously zealous leader named Rajim Kane. The group of clowns responsible for the rebellion would ambush and humiliate Mr. Kane’s forces, just like lunatic clowns do. They’d do things like dry hump a few knights, throw shit-flavored pies in preachers’ faces, and smack around a noble king with a popping jack-in-the-box. Think of the most bizarre and disrespectful shit you can and these clowns did it all. I’m sure a dead ringer for The Artist Formerly Known as Goldust was somewhere within their ranks.
Makoto Lionheart was a member of this organization and even wore the face paint and clown nose to prove it. She just wasn’t as degenerate as her cohorts. In fact, her male counterpart Lee Murdoch seemed to think she was too soft, so he would subject her to sexual ridicule to try to bring out her inner demons. Smart strategy, right? Not!
Although, to Makoto’s credit, she eventually turned to the dark side when it mattered the most. She was kidnapped by a group of Amazon prostitutes (I’m rolling my eyes just saying that) and broke free by disgusting them to death. How did she do it? By ripping out a client’s skull and spinal cord and then coating the body parts in sugar before licking it like a lollipop. Yeah, there’s no way such a movie would get under an NC-17 rating.
Unfortunately, that Faces of Death-style grotesqueness was Makoto’s shining moment in that movie. Well, that and choking Lee Murdoch into unconsciousness with a head scissors leg lock during a fighting tournament. If such sickening sights are the high point of a movie, what are the low points? And you know what the worst part about all of this was? These horrifying antics were normal to me. They still are a little bit normal to me. Yes, I’ve mellowed out considerably over the years, but something deep inside me keeps yelling in a Cavalera-esque voice, “Blood! Fire! War! Hate!” Either that, or I’m listening to Soulfly’s “Conquer” album, one of the two.
So now that another story is about to get Makoto’s sloppy seconds, what exactly am I supposed to do with someone who could be a repeat offender for the Worst Gimmick award if she was in the WWE? What do I do with the illegitimate sister of Gold and Stardust? Should I take the same route where she’s soft at first but then becomes nastier as the story moves on? It’s a reasonable technique, but maybe I could tone down some of the nonsensical violence. Don’t get me wrong, she can still have weird quirks, but they’ll be PG-13 quirks. Makoto will be strange enough to make everyone around her uncomfortable, but peaceful enough to avoid being labeled a sociopath.
Now that I think about it, Makoto Lionheart is a female version of me! Oh, this could be something to cash in on for sure! Maybe she can blow her nose in public as loudly as an elephant. Maybe she can drink fake liquid cheese with bacon bits stirred in; a whole gallon, to be exact! Maybe she can get in an elevator with a lot of people and make it go to an entirely different floor than what everyone intended. And when she does the latter, she won’t say a word to the other passengers no matter how many times they try to engage her in conversation. If she did say something, it’d be like, “Well, I don’t have a chance at a five-way, so I might as well act as crazy as I want.” Now we’re talking! Hey, they wanted conversation, right?
Yes, Makoto Lionheart took a hard fall when it came to character unemployment. In fact, her presence alone might have been part of the reason why my friend at the time Sarah was too afraid to read The Macaroni & Ownage Project. Sarah even admitted to me that she was afraid of clowns. Never mind the disgusting antics of the rebel group, just the fact that they wear juggalo makeup is enough to creep this poor girl out. If such a movie script can creep out someone of sensitive psychology, imagine if it went up against an audience who was tough minded, which is hard to find these days, to be honest. Would they still be disgusted? Part of me says yes, which is why I’m going to be careful with Makoto’s character development in the future. Good call? I’d say so.
***LYRICS OF THE DAY***
“Because I was born this way. I got lightning running through my veins. Ain’t nobody gonna stop this train. So hop onboard or get out the way.”
-Thousand Foot Krutch singing “Born This Way”-
***POST-SCRIPT***
Is it wrong that I’m quoting a Christian metal band in a blog entry about sexually deviant clowns?
AGE: 18
OCCUPATION: Samurai Clown
CANON: The Macaroni & Ownage Project
Those stats alone should tell you how much of a colorful character Makoto had the potential to be. How many samurai clowns are there in this world? And how many people can genuinely say they were part of something called The Macaroni & Ownage Project, whatever the hell that is? It’s a delightfully weird hodgepodge we’ve got going on here. And yet, when I dropped the ball with Makoto, it was the size of a bowling ball and it broke my fucking foot. What could have possibly went wrong with such a chaotic character? Well, seeing as how none of the chaos was controlled, I can think of a number of ways.
In 2007, I wrote a fantasy movie script called The Macaroni & Ownage Project, where a bunch of medieval juggalos rebel against an oppressive and religiously zealous leader named Rajim Kane. The group of clowns responsible for the rebellion would ambush and humiliate Mr. Kane’s forces, just like lunatic clowns do. They’d do things like dry hump a few knights, throw shit-flavored pies in preachers’ faces, and smack around a noble king with a popping jack-in-the-box. Think of the most bizarre and disrespectful shit you can and these clowns did it all. I’m sure a dead ringer for The Artist Formerly Known as Goldust was somewhere within their ranks.
Makoto Lionheart was a member of this organization and even wore the face paint and clown nose to prove it. She just wasn’t as degenerate as her cohorts. In fact, her male counterpart Lee Murdoch seemed to think she was too soft, so he would subject her to sexual ridicule to try to bring out her inner demons. Smart strategy, right? Not!
Although, to Makoto’s credit, she eventually turned to the dark side when it mattered the most. She was kidnapped by a group of Amazon prostitutes (I’m rolling my eyes just saying that) and broke free by disgusting them to death. How did she do it? By ripping out a client’s skull and spinal cord and then coating the body parts in sugar before licking it like a lollipop. Yeah, there’s no way such a movie would get under an NC-17 rating.
Unfortunately, that Faces of Death-style grotesqueness was Makoto’s shining moment in that movie. Well, that and choking Lee Murdoch into unconsciousness with a head scissors leg lock during a fighting tournament. If such sickening sights are the high point of a movie, what are the low points? And you know what the worst part about all of this was? These horrifying antics were normal to me. They still are a little bit normal to me. Yes, I’ve mellowed out considerably over the years, but something deep inside me keeps yelling in a Cavalera-esque voice, “Blood! Fire! War! Hate!” Either that, or I’m listening to Soulfly’s “Conquer” album, one of the two.
So now that another story is about to get Makoto’s sloppy seconds, what exactly am I supposed to do with someone who could be a repeat offender for the Worst Gimmick award if she was in the WWE? What do I do with the illegitimate sister of Gold and Stardust? Should I take the same route where she’s soft at first but then becomes nastier as the story moves on? It’s a reasonable technique, but maybe I could tone down some of the nonsensical violence. Don’t get me wrong, she can still have weird quirks, but they’ll be PG-13 quirks. Makoto will be strange enough to make everyone around her uncomfortable, but peaceful enough to avoid being labeled a sociopath.
Now that I think about it, Makoto Lionheart is a female version of me! Oh, this could be something to cash in on for sure! Maybe she can blow her nose in public as loudly as an elephant. Maybe she can drink fake liquid cheese with bacon bits stirred in; a whole gallon, to be exact! Maybe she can get in an elevator with a lot of people and make it go to an entirely different floor than what everyone intended. And when she does the latter, she won’t say a word to the other passengers no matter how many times they try to engage her in conversation. If she did say something, it’d be like, “Well, I don’t have a chance at a five-way, so I might as well act as crazy as I want.” Now we’re talking! Hey, they wanted conversation, right?
Yes, Makoto Lionheart took a hard fall when it came to character unemployment. In fact, her presence alone might have been part of the reason why my friend at the time Sarah was too afraid to read The Macaroni & Ownage Project. Sarah even admitted to me that she was afraid of clowns. Never mind the disgusting antics of the rebel group, just the fact that they wear juggalo makeup is enough to creep this poor girl out. If such a movie script can creep out someone of sensitive psychology, imagine if it went up against an audience who was tough minded, which is hard to find these days, to be honest. Would they still be disgusted? Part of me says yes, which is why I’m going to be careful with Makoto’s character development in the future. Good call? I’d say so.
***LYRICS OF THE DAY***
“Because I was born this way. I got lightning running through my veins. Ain’t nobody gonna stop this train. So hop onboard or get out the way.”
-Thousand Foot Krutch singing “Born This Way”-
***POST-SCRIPT***
Is it wrong that I’m quoting a Christian metal band in a blog entry about sexually deviant clowns?
January 24, 2015
Shelly Craven
NAME: Shelly Craven
AGE: 24
OCCUPATION: Fetish Stripper and Criminal Informant
CANON: Abyss
I don’t go around advertising my sexual fetishes to everyone, but just this one time, I’ll make an exception. The reason I even have to make an exception is because my sexual appetites are, how shall I say this in a nice way…fucking weird! Well, they’re weird to the people who actually know about them. I have three different sexual fetishes: bondage, feet, and diapers (without bodily functions except orgasms).
If you feel like turning around and running away with your arms flailing in the air, I can’t really say I blame you. But if you actually have an open mind and would like to hear about Miss Shelly Craven, you can stay. Be warned: this blog post isn’t rated G. Or PG (unless there’s an I in the middle). Or even PG-13. Abyss, the canon Shelly was a part of, was rated R for, surprise, surprise, sexual content.
Before I was even dimly aware of how bigoted objectification was, I wrote a movie in 2007 called Abyss, where the main character was a 30-year-old man with a baby’s mind and a love for playing with toys. The main character, Angel, is on the run from police after he kills his father over a broken toy. Angel has no idea where the hell he’s going, so he absentmindedly pays a visit to Shelly Craven.
Shelly is the embodiment of all three of my sexual fetishes. When performing onstage for horny strangers, she puts duct tape on her own mouth, she wears a diaper (again, without bodily functions), and she massages oil into her bare feet. Seeing her perform is a very strange experience, I agree. But it’s also one you’re going to have in your spank bank for a long, long time. Admit it, you like her. You know who doesn’t like her, though? Angel. In fact, seeing as how he has the mind of a baby, he’s confused and overwhelmed by her performance.
What Angel doesn’t know is that Shelly, in addition to being the sexy lady of every man’s dreams, is also a snitch for the local police. She was warned ahead of time by Detective Jon Ball that a big man-child might be coming her way. So what does she do? Keep him “occupied” with her dance. Big mistake. Big, big mistake. Not only does Angel get away, but he inspires bouncers to attack him and kills them as well as his father. So now there’s a monster on the loose and Shelly is powerless to capture him.
And now here’s what I would have done differently with Shelly’s character if I was writing Abyss today in 2015 (or at least when this blog post was being written). Over the years, I’ve learned that although women are beautiful in nature, putting them in sexual situations can be the equivalent of making black characters eat watermelon or making Jewish characters greedy. In other words, it’s bigoted and it’s disgusting. It would be the same if somebody made a movie about a schizophrenic kid and turned him into a Complete Monster serial killer. As someone with a mental illness, that would offend me and I’d want to kick the shit out of the writer of that movie.
That’s not to say female characters can’t be attractive. They can retain their sexuality, but only if the audience sees that they’re more than just objects. They’re people with real emotions, real traumas, and real stories. Originally in the Abyss script, Shelly Craven was doing her fetish stripping as a way to keep her head above water. She had bills to pay ranging from basic rent to alimony to her deadbeat husband.
What I would do differently is make her into a character who rises above such adversity in an independent and tough-minded fashion. Maybe she wants retribution against Angel, so she grabs a shotgun and blasts his nuts off. Maybe she collects a reward on the monster’s head and uses that to not only pay her bills, but move into a better place. Yeah, Shelly Craven is sexy as hell, but if you mess with her, you’re one dead motherfucker. She’s a fetish stripper and a male fantasy second and a badass first. Angel, nobody’s going to take away your toys, just your right to live.
Three-dimensionality can exist within any character in any canon. It’s all a matter of being open-minded enough to want it and actually putting in the time to develop these even minor characters. If your Mexican character is running around in a giant nacho hat, he’d better have some fucking personality or you’re in deep shit. Shelly’s going to have personality and that will suffice.
***JOKE OF THE DAY***
Q: What does Anonymous think of Kim Kardashian breaking the internet?
A: They don’t give a Fawkes.
AGE: 24
OCCUPATION: Fetish Stripper and Criminal Informant
CANON: Abyss
I don’t go around advertising my sexual fetishes to everyone, but just this one time, I’ll make an exception. The reason I even have to make an exception is because my sexual appetites are, how shall I say this in a nice way…fucking weird! Well, they’re weird to the people who actually know about them. I have three different sexual fetishes: bondage, feet, and diapers (without bodily functions except orgasms).
If you feel like turning around and running away with your arms flailing in the air, I can’t really say I blame you. But if you actually have an open mind and would like to hear about Miss Shelly Craven, you can stay. Be warned: this blog post isn’t rated G. Or PG (unless there’s an I in the middle). Or even PG-13. Abyss, the canon Shelly was a part of, was rated R for, surprise, surprise, sexual content.
Before I was even dimly aware of how bigoted objectification was, I wrote a movie in 2007 called Abyss, where the main character was a 30-year-old man with a baby’s mind and a love for playing with toys. The main character, Angel, is on the run from police after he kills his father over a broken toy. Angel has no idea where the hell he’s going, so he absentmindedly pays a visit to Shelly Craven.
Shelly is the embodiment of all three of my sexual fetishes. When performing onstage for horny strangers, she puts duct tape on her own mouth, she wears a diaper (again, without bodily functions), and she massages oil into her bare feet. Seeing her perform is a very strange experience, I agree. But it’s also one you’re going to have in your spank bank for a long, long time. Admit it, you like her. You know who doesn’t like her, though? Angel. In fact, seeing as how he has the mind of a baby, he’s confused and overwhelmed by her performance.
What Angel doesn’t know is that Shelly, in addition to being the sexy lady of every man’s dreams, is also a snitch for the local police. She was warned ahead of time by Detective Jon Ball that a big man-child might be coming her way. So what does she do? Keep him “occupied” with her dance. Big mistake. Big, big mistake. Not only does Angel get away, but he inspires bouncers to attack him and kills them as well as his father. So now there’s a monster on the loose and Shelly is powerless to capture him.
And now here’s what I would have done differently with Shelly’s character if I was writing Abyss today in 2015 (or at least when this blog post was being written). Over the years, I’ve learned that although women are beautiful in nature, putting them in sexual situations can be the equivalent of making black characters eat watermelon or making Jewish characters greedy. In other words, it’s bigoted and it’s disgusting. It would be the same if somebody made a movie about a schizophrenic kid and turned him into a Complete Monster serial killer. As someone with a mental illness, that would offend me and I’d want to kick the shit out of the writer of that movie.
That’s not to say female characters can’t be attractive. They can retain their sexuality, but only if the audience sees that they’re more than just objects. They’re people with real emotions, real traumas, and real stories. Originally in the Abyss script, Shelly Craven was doing her fetish stripping as a way to keep her head above water. She had bills to pay ranging from basic rent to alimony to her deadbeat husband.
What I would do differently is make her into a character who rises above such adversity in an independent and tough-minded fashion. Maybe she wants retribution against Angel, so she grabs a shotgun and blasts his nuts off. Maybe she collects a reward on the monster’s head and uses that to not only pay her bills, but move into a better place. Yeah, Shelly Craven is sexy as hell, but if you mess with her, you’re one dead motherfucker. She’s a fetish stripper and a male fantasy second and a badass first. Angel, nobody’s going to take away your toys, just your right to live.
Three-dimensionality can exist within any character in any canon. It’s all a matter of being open-minded enough to want it and actually putting in the time to develop these even minor characters. If your Mexican character is running around in a giant nacho hat, he’d better have some fucking personality or you’re in deep shit. Shelly’s going to have personality and that will suffice.
***JOKE OF THE DAY***
Q: What does Anonymous think of Kim Kardashian breaking the internet?
A: They don’t give a Fawkes.
January 16, 2015
Darthania Gaveston
NAME: Darthania Gaveston
AGE: 20
OCCUPATION: Wizard
CANONS: Dungeons & Dragons: The Middlesex Campaign and Fireball Nightmare
Technically, this character doesn’t belong to me. She belongs to my good friend Heather, who I used to play a lot of Dungeons & Dragons with back in 2010. She was the wife of my human barbarian Brutus Warcry, who I’ve talked about in previous character profiles. This couple did everything together. They chased bounty heads, they competed in mixed-martial arts, they went on missions to kick some villainous ass, and they even protected the mayor of Middlesex Shawn Simms on more than one occasion. Darthania and Brutus’ romance and adventures were the ultimate rags to riches tale. They started off begging for handouts and became eighth level millionaires.
Darthania comes from a similar romantic background to her husband Brutus in the sense that he was not her first choice. Before Brutus came into her life, Darthania was studying wizardry at the Middlesex Academy of the Arts. She was a damn good student as well as the man she fell in love with at the time, Randy Farrell. They’d do experiments together whether they were wizardry assignments or otherwise…and my definition of otherwise is very loose if you know what I mean. Hehe!
They started off as lab partners and became lovers destined for marriage. And then one day, an accident during class caused a chemical explosion that poisoned Randy and killed him slowly while he rested in a hospital bed. Darthania never got to say goodbye to Randy and still missed him even after marrying Brutus. Brutus never got over Kai Nightwolf and Darthania never got over Randy Farrell. The relatives of the dead lovers entered Brutus and Darthania’s lives as government-paid bodyguards, those guys being Electra Nightwolf, Sandra Nightwolf, and Windham Farrell. It’s not the same, though. It’ll never be the same again.
Darthania had a huge impact not just on Brutus’ life, but on the lives of everybody who participated in that game from Heather to TJ to Sid to Amber. She was so much of an icon that I asked Heather for permission to use her in Fireball Nightmare. Not only did she say it was okay, but she said she was honored since she admires my writing skills (not to brag about it or anything. Hehe!).
In Fireball Nightmare, Darthania Gaveston’s new role was the ex-lover of Brutus in a love polygon that involved anywhere up to seven people. That’s a lot of emotional turmoil to go through. And a lot of condoms. But if she could put those dark feelings aside, then she would have been responsible for Deus, Brutus, and company finding the Lunar Crystal, which when dropped down Vahd’s volcanic opening would cool the earth off from the hellfire it was subjected to. In other words, Darthania would have been responsible for earth’s freedom. But because of confusing plot holes, perfect characters, and all around shabby writing, Fireball Nightmare has been deleted from my archives and is yet another failed project. I had a chance to make Heather’s character famous and I blew it. That’s worth a deep sigh.
Since I already asked once if it was okay to use Darthania in a novel of mine, I’m sure Heather will say yes every time after that as well. It all depends on how many times until I find the perfect fit for the lovely elf wizard. Like every other unemployed character I plan on using, Darthania’s chances of being chosen for a story are random. But if she’s going to stay in my archives indefinitely, the right thing to do would be to let Heather have a crack at writing a story for her. Granted, I’ve never read any of Heather’s writing before, but judging from how well she played Darthania in the D&D sessions, I know she can hack it as a writer.
***LYRICS OF THE DAY***
“You could say I’ve lost my faith in politicians. They all seem like game show hosts to me. But if I ever lose my faith in you, there would be nothing left for me to do. I could be lost inside their locks without a trace. But every time I close my eyes, I see your face.”
-Sting singing “If I Ever Lose My Faith In You”-
AGE: 20
OCCUPATION: Wizard
CANONS: Dungeons & Dragons: The Middlesex Campaign and Fireball Nightmare
Technically, this character doesn’t belong to me. She belongs to my good friend Heather, who I used to play a lot of Dungeons & Dragons with back in 2010. She was the wife of my human barbarian Brutus Warcry, who I’ve talked about in previous character profiles. This couple did everything together. They chased bounty heads, they competed in mixed-martial arts, they went on missions to kick some villainous ass, and they even protected the mayor of Middlesex Shawn Simms on more than one occasion. Darthania and Brutus’ romance and adventures were the ultimate rags to riches tale. They started off begging for handouts and became eighth level millionaires.
Darthania comes from a similar romantic background to her husband Brutus in the sense that he was not her first choice. Before Brutus came into her life, Darthania was studying wizardry at the Middlesex Academy of the Arts. She was a damn good student as well as the man she fell in love with at the time, Randy Farrell. They’d do experiments together whether they were wizardry assignments or otherwise…and my definition of otherwise is very loose if you know what I mean. Hehe!
They started off as lab partners and became lovers destined for marriage. And then one day, an accident during class caused a chemical explosion that poisoned Randy and killed him slowly while he rested in a hospital bed. Darthania never got to say goodbye to Randy and still missed him even after marrying Brutus. Brutus never got over Kai Nightwolf and Darthania never got over Randy Farrell. The relatives of the dead lovers entered Brutus and Darthania’s lives as government-paid bodyguards, those guys being Electra Nightwolf, Sandra Nightwolf, and Windham Farrell. It’s not the same, though. It’ll never be the same again.
Darthania had a huge impact not just on Brutus’ life, but on the lives of everybody who participated in that game from Heather to TJ to Sid to Amber. She was so much of an icon that I asked Heather for permission to use her in Fireball Nightmare. Not only did she say it was okay, but she said she was honored since she admires my writing skills (not to brag about it or anything. Hehe!).
In Fireball Nightmare, Darthania Gaveston’s new role was the ex-lover of Brutus in a love polygon that involved anywhere up to seven people. That’s a lot of emotional turmoil to go through. And a lot of condoms. But if she could put those dark feelings aside, then she would have been responsible for Deus, Brutus, and company finding the Lunar Crystal, which when dropped down Vahd’s volcanic opening would cool the earth off from the hellfire it was subjected to. In other words, Darthania would have been responsible for earth’s freedom. But because of confusing plot holes, perfect characters, and all around shabby writing, Fireball Nightmare has been deleted from my archives and is yet another failed project. I had a chance to make Heather’s character famous and I blew it. That’s worth a deep sigh.
Since I already asked once if it was okay to use Darthania in a novel of mine, I’m sure Heather will say yes every time after that as well. It all depends on how many times until I find the perfect fit for the lovely elf wizard. Like every other unemployed character I plan on using, Darthania’s chances of being chosen for a story are random. But if she’s going to stay in my archives indefinitely, the right thing to do would be to let Heather have a crack at writing a story for her. Granted, I’ve never read any of Heather’s writing before, but judging from how well she played Darthania in the D&D sessions, I know she can hack it as a writer.
***LYRICS OF THE DAY***
“You could say I’ve lost my faith in politicians. They all seem like game show hosts to me. But if I ever lose my faith in you, there would be nothing left for me to do. I could be lost inside their locks without a trace. But every time I close my eyes, I see your face.”
-Sting singing “If I Ever Lose My Faith In You”-
