Garrison Kelly's Blog, page 25
January 29, 2021
Dean McLean the Macho Marine
VERSE 1
I call it ethnic cleansing, you call it spring cleaning
Took the word democracy, completely changed its meaning
Then you come back to the world to yell at your wife
And make a living hell out of my own goddamn life
Dropping your pants, showing me your dirty ass
Teabagging on Halo like you’re teaching pimp class
Ding-dong-ditch while you call me your little bitch
But these are just jokes designed to rip the last stitch
CHORUS
Dean McLean the Macho Marine!
The manliest man you’ve ever seen!
Ends justify the meanest of means!
Yell “Hoorah!” like a fighting machine!
Dean McLean the Macho Marine!
VERSE 2
You blame your worst mistakes on PTSD
It’ll take more than that to fool little old me
I set my boundaries and you knock them down
Play the biggest victim in the whole damn town
Everyone around you thanks you for your service
“Freedom isn’t free!”, now where have I heard this?
They’re buzzwords to justify machinegun fire
If only more people would see you as a liar
CHORUS
Dean McLean the Macho Marine!
The manliest man you’ve ever seen!
Ends justify the meanest of means!
Yell “Hoorah!” like a fighting machine!
Dean McLean the Macho Marine!
VERSE 3
I don’t give a damn about your Star Spangled Banner
It doesn’t mean shit when you lack basic manners
I don’t give a damn about your big fucking truck
You can drive it through sewage, get yourself stuck
I don’t give a damn about your precious Purple Heart
You probably dug it out from a box of Pop Tarts
Your insults and pranks were disguised as friendship
“Marine humor” to get you through a war so endless
PRE-CHORUS
The only twenty-one gun salute you’ll get
Is when they aim the rifles right at your head
Sociopathic brains run down the sewer drain
Thank you for your service, you little shit stain!
CHORUS
Dean McLean the Macho Marine!
The manliest man you’ve ever seen!
Ends justify the meanest of means!
Yell “Hoorah!” like a fighting machine!
Dean McLean the Macho Marine!
I call it ethnic cleansing, you call it spring cleaning
Took the word democracy, completely changed its meaning
Then you come back to the world to yell at your wife
And make a living hell out of my own goddamn life
Dropping your pants, showing me your dirty ass
Teabagging on Halo like you’re teaching pimp class
Ding-dong-ditch while you call me your little bitch
But these are just jokes designed to rip the last stitch
CHORUS
Dean McLean the Macho Marine!
The manliest man you’ve ever seen!
Ends justify the meanest of means!
Yell “Hoorah!” like a fighting machine!
Dean McLean the Macho Marine!
VERSE 2
You blame your worst mistakes on PTSD
It’ll take more than that to fool little old me
I set my boundaries and you knock them down
Play the biggest victim in the whole damn town
Everyone around you thanks you for your service
“Freedom isn’t free!”, now where have I heard this?
They’re buzzwords to justify machinegun fire
If only more people would see you as a liar
CHORUS
Dean McLean the Macho Marine!
The manliest man you’ve ever seen!
Ends justify the meanest of means!
Yell “Hoorah!” like a fighting machine!
Dean McLean the Macho Marine!
VERSE 3
I don’t give a damn about your Star Spangled Banner
It doesn’t mean shit when you lack basic manners
I don’t give a damn about your big fucking truck
You can drive it through sewage, get yourself stuck
I don’t give a damn about your precious Purple Heart
You probably dug it out from a box of Pop Tarts
Your insults and pranks were disguised as friendship
“Marine humor” to get you through a war so endless
PRE-CHORUS
The only twenty-one gun salute you’ll get
Is when they aim the rifles right at your head
Sociopathic brains run down the sewer drain
Thank you for your service, you little shit stain!
CHORUS
Dean McLean the Macho Marine!
The manliest man you’ve ever seen!
Ends justify the meanest of means!
Yell “Hoorah!” like a fighting machine!
Dean McLean the Macho Marine!
January 16, 2021
Characters Without Aspirations
If somebody is living a “normal” life, it’s seen as a positive. If somebody is living an “average” life, it’s seen indifferently. However…if somebody is living a “mediocre” life, then shame on that person. Normal, average, and mediocre all have the same meaning, yet their connotations are different across each word. Normal and average characters are relatable, but mediocre ones are looked down up with disgust. But when a critic is talking about a mediocre character, they’re not usually talking about the character’s upbringing, education, or work life. Mediocrity often means the character has no ambitions, dreams, or aspirations. Three-dimensional characters are the best kind and a character cannot be three-dimensional without at least one feasible goal or lifelong dream. That’s what we’ve been taught as writers because that’s what makes a story interesting to begin with.
But is that always the case? Do characters HAVE to have big dreams and aspirations? Commonsense would dictate that a character-driven story would mean having the MC pursue an end game. But what if the character had no dreams or aspirations at all? Sounds pretty boring, doesn’t it? Until you dig a little deeper into why that is. Maybe the character is so depressed that he can’t see a future for himself. Maybe he’s older and subscribes to the “don’t follow your passion” rhetoric that conservatives of his generation like to preach. Maybe he’s a younger child who’s been brainwashed by the school system into believing that STEM jobs are the only kind that matter. With the latter case, the brainwashed child in question has a goal, but not the one he originally intended. Does that count? Not if he’s going through the motions.
Mediocrity isn’t fun to read about, but the reasons behind it can be. In fact, the reasons alone could turn an otherwise dull character into someone to root for. Maybe the goal is to break the cycle of mediocrity and become his own person. Maybe the goal is to murder the people responsible for creating his dull situation. Wait a minute. Did that get a little too extreme for you? Is it really reasonable for a mundane character to go around stabbing people to death if they forced him into a life of boredom? Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. Either way, you’ve got a compelling story on your hand.
Conformity through brainwashing or creative suppression can be a powerful thing. That’s why millennials and Gen Z people tend to dislike Mike Rowe, because he’s using his platform to encourage capitalistic conformity. Conforming to society will make you more presentable in the eyes of the CEO’s writing your checks. Okay, Boomer, enough is enough.
While most people do want to break the chains of capitalism and tell Mike Rowe to suck a big fat one, there are legitimate slackers in society. I’m sure you, my lovely audience, have gone to school with a few of these guys. They don’t do homework. They spend their time in class shooting spitballs and fucking around. They mouth off to the teacher when they’re receiving genuine criticism. While these students don’t make up an entire generation nor can they not be saved, they do exist and they can often be interesting characters to read about.
It’s easy to tell this lackadaisical student to “get a job” and “stop screwing around”. But have you ever been inside the mind of one of these students? Maybe the sour attitude is a cover-up for suppressed trauma. Maybe he doesn’t feel like there’s any hope for him after all. Or maybe he just wants to play videogames and fuck the world. Even the latter of those choices can be made into three-dimensional character work if an author knows what the hell he’s doing.
You’re probably reading all of this and are digging into the recesses of your mind trying to find examples of mediocre characters that are fun to read about. You want to find the difference between being lost in a dream due to aspirations and lost in a dream because he doesn’t want to wake up and face the world. Not a book, per se, but the 1994 comedy Clerks is a good example of this. Dante works at the Quick Stop Convenience Store and has no plans of bettering his life, yet he constantly complains about the situation he’s in. His friend Randal works at RST Video Store and doesn’t mind slacking off every once and a while as long as he gets to anger the customers.
Two mediocre workers, different clashing mindsets. They have little goals here and there. Dante wants to get back together with his ex-girlfriend Caitlin while still dating a superior woman in Veronica. He wants to play hockey on the rooftop. He wants to go to a funeral to say goodbye to one of his exes. But are any of these goals really going to get him out of his depressive funk? No fucking way. Even if he somehow achieves these goals, he’ll go right back to where he was the next day: tedium and shitty customers. Dante and Randal have painfully ordinary lives, yet Clerks is considered a cult classic and Kevin Smith’s best movie of all time.
But if you’re going to intentionally write a mediocre character and have him lead the charge, his uncaring attitude should mesh well with his environment. If the character is a humanoid dragon barbarian fighting for his life in a dark fantasy kingdom with demons, devils, and zombies chewing on his flesh, that MC cannot afford to be mediocre for even a second. Yes, Gary-Stus exist, but in a fantasy or sci-fi setting, they’re frowned upon. Speculative fiction is known for having colorful worlds where the author’s imagination runs wild. Crystal castles in the sky, fireball magic spells, temptress witches, electromantic dragons, sneaky goblins, they’ve got it all! If a character is mediocre in an above-average setting, then that’s a problem.
But…what if a character is mediocre in a BELOW-average setting? What if the fantasy world has turned to absolute shit and the character gives into his urges to give up all hope? It doesn’t even have to be a nuclear apocalypse, no, no, no. It could be worldwide blight. It could be constant darkness. It could be monsters and zombies overrunning everything. Or it could be an actual world of shit, because there’s nowhere else to go to the bathroom. Losing hope and giving up easily would be perfectly understandable in a below-average hellscape. At that point, the character has two choices: give up entirely and submit to the Lovecraftian negativity, or find smaller goals to achieve if only to make life a little more bearable than it was before.
By choosing the latter of those two scenarios, your characters cease to be mediocre. An example of this is a 2009 movie called Zombieland. As the title would suggest, zombies have taken over the world and are chewing on humans like bubblegum. Fuck hope, because it’ll never come back no matter how many shotgun shells are popped off at these undead cannibals. The world will never return to its normal state. So what do the characters do? They cope. They don’t solve everything. They cope. Woody Harrelson’s character wants to find Twinkies and eat them like he was a zombie himself. The two girls in the zombie-escaping team want to go to a theme park and party it up. The main character? He just wants to see his family again. By having these little goals to keep them company in an otherwise shitty world, a run-of-the-mill comedy has become a three-dimensional story that deserves all the praise it gets.
In case it wasn’t apparent by now, mediocrity itself isn’t good or bad (that’s the very definition of the word). It’s what an author does with it that counts the most. Hell, it can even apply to real life, even in a nonconformist setting. It doesn’t have to be all about brainwashing and Boomerisms. Sometimes those big dreams aren’t what they appear to be when examined further. I had lots of dreams when I was younger, but didn’t realize how damaging those pursuits will be until I grew older. I wanted to be a pro-wrestler, but that would involve exhausting exercise, injuries, tedious travel, and bullying from the higher ups. I wanted to be a heavy metal singer, but that would also involve tedious travel, along with clashing egos, heavy criticism, potential drug and alcohol use, meaningless sex, and yes, sometimes injuries. I wanted to be a screenwriter, but that would involve traveling to Hollywood and potentially being molested by Harvey Weinstein or someone just like him.
After all of those options, the one I decided was least detrimental to both my mental and physical health was the life of an author. I can still indulge in my creative fantasies. I can still tell Mike Rowe to get fucked. I can still be a productive person. And above all else, no injuries! Have you ever heard about an author who broke his neck while typing a novel? No, and you never will. Maybe mental injuries could be more prevalent with worldwide criticism and general trolling, but that’s not enough to keep me from pursing my dreams of being an author. I live a normal life without submitting to mediocrity. I guess I could be a three-dimensional character in someone’s novel. Or I could just do a complete self-insert, one of the two.
But is that always the case? Do characters HAVE to have big dreams and aspirations? Commonsense would dictate that a character-driven story would mean having the MC pursue an end game. But what if the character had no dreams or aspirations at all? Sounds pretty boring, doesn’t it? Until you dig a little deeper into why that is. Maybe the character is so depressed that he can’t see a future for himself. Maybe he’s older and subscribes to the “don’t follow your passion” rhetoric that conservatives of his generation like to preach. Maybe he’s a younger child who’s been brainwashed by the school system into believing that STEM jobs are the only kind that matter. With the latter case, the brainwashed child in question has a goal, but not the one he originally intended. Does that count? Not if he’s going through the motions.
Mediocrity isn’t fun to read about, but the reasons behind it can be. In fact, the reasons alone could turn an otherwise dull character into someone to root for. Maybe the goal is to break the cycle of mediocrity and become his own person. Maybe the goal is to murder the people responsible for creating his dull situation. Wait a minute. Did that get a little too extreme for you? Is it really reasonable for a mundane character to go around stabbing people to death if they forced him into a life of boredom? Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. Either way, you’ve got a compelling story on your hand.
Conformity through brainwashing or creative suppression can be a powerful thing. That’s why millennials and Gen Z people tend to dislike Mike Rowe, because he’s using his platform to encourage capitalistic conformity. Conforming to society will make you more presentable in the eyes of the CEO’s writing your checks. Okay, Boomer, enough is enough.
While most people do want to break the chains of capitalism and tell Mike Rowe to suck a big fat one, there are legitimate slackers in society. I’m sure you, my lovely audience, have gone to school with a few of these guys. They don’t do homework. They spend their time in class shooting spitballs and fucking around. They mouth off to the teacher when they’re receiving genuine criticism. While these students don’t make up an entire generation nor can they not be saved, they do exist and they can often be interesting characters to read about.
It’s easy to tell this lackadaisical student to “get a job” and “stop screwing around”. But have you ever been inside the mind of one of these students? Maybe the sour attitude is a cover-up for suppressed trauma. Maybe he doesn’t feel like there’s any hope for him after all. Or maybe he just wants to play videogames and fuck the world. Even the latter of those choices can be made into three-dimensional character work if an author knows what the hell he’s doing.
You’re probably reading all of this and are digging into the recesses of your mind trying to find examples of mediocre characters that are fun to read about. You want to find the difference between being lost in a dream due to aspirations and lost in a dream because he doesn’t want to wake up and face the world. Not a book, per se, but the 1994 comedy Clerks is a good example of this. Dante works at the Quick Stop Convenience Store and has no plans of bettering his life, yet he constantly complains about the situation he’s in. His friend Randal works at RST Video Store and doesn’t mind slacking off every once and a while as long as he gets to anger the customers.
Two mediocre workers, different clashing mindsets. They have little goals here and there. Dante wants to get back together with his ex-girlfriend Caitlin while still dating a superior woman in Veronica. He wants to play hockey on the rooftop. He wants to go to a funeral to say goodbye to one of his exes. But are any of these goals really going to get him out of his depressive funk? No fucking way. Even if he somehow achieves these goals, he’ll go right back to where he was the next day: tedium and shitty customers. Dante and Randal have painfully ordinary lives, yet Clerks is considered a cult classic and Kevin Smith’s best movie of all time.
But if you’re going to intentionally write a mediocre character and have him lead the charge, his uncaring attitude should mesh well with his environment. If the character is a humanoid dragon barbarian fighting for his life in a dark fantasy kingdom with demons, devils, and zombies chewing on his flesh, that MC cannot afford to be mediocre for even a second. Yes, Gary-Stus exist, but in a fantasy or sci-fi setting, they’re frowned upon. Speculative fiction is known for having colorful worlds where the author’s imagination runs wild. Crystal castles in the sky, fireball magic spells, temptress witches, electromantic dragons, sneaky goblins, they’ve got it all! If a character is mediocre in an above-average setting, then that’s a problem.
But…what if a character is mediocre in a BELOW-average setting? What if the fantasy world has turned to absolute shit and the character gives into his urges to give up all hope? It doesn’t even have to be a nuclear apocalypse, no, no, no. It could be worldwide blight. It could be constant darkness. It could be monsters and zombies overrunning everything. Or it could be an actual world of shit, because there’s nowhere else to go to the bathroom. Losing hope and giving up easily would be perfectly understandable in a below-average hellscape. At that point, the character has two choices: give up entirely and submit to the Lovecraftian negativity, or find smaller goals to achieve if only to make life a little more bearable than it was before.
By choosing the latter of those two scenarios, your characters cease to be mediocre. An example of this is a 2009 movie called Zombieland. As the title would suggest, zombies have taken over the world and are chewing on humans like bubblegum. Fuck hope, because it’ll never come back no matter how many shotgun shells are popped off at these undead cannibals. The world will never return to its normal state. So what do the characters do? They cope. They don’t solve everything. They cope. Woody Harrelson’s character wants to find Twinkies and eat them like he was a zombie himself. The two girls in the zombie-escaping team want to go to a theme park and party it up. The main character? He just wants to see his family again. By having these little goals to keep them company in an otherwise shitty world, a run-of-the-mill comedy has become a three-dimensional story that deserves all the praise it gets.
In case it wasn’t apparent by now, mediocrity itself isn’t good or bad (that’s the very definition of the word). It’s what an author does with it that counts the most. Hell, it can even apply to real life, even in a nonconformist setting. It doesn’t have to be all about brainwashing and Boomerisms. Sometimes those big dreams aren’t what they appear to be when examined further. I had lots of dreams when I was younger, but didn’t realize how damaging those pursuits will be until I grew older. I wanted to be a pro-wrestler, but that would involve exhausting exercise, injuries, tedious travel, and bullying from the higher ups. I wanted to be a heavy metal singer, but that would also involve tedious travel, along with clashing egos, heavy criticism, potential drug and alcohol use, meaningless sex, and yes, sometimes injuries. I wanted to be a screenwriter, but that would involve traveling to Hollywood and potentially being molested by Harvey Weinstein or someone just like him.
After all of those options, the one I decided was least detrimental to both my mental and physical health was the life of an author. I can still indulge in my creative fantasies. I can still tell Mike Rowe to get fucked. I can still be a productive person. And above all else, no injuries! Have you ever heard about an author who broke his neck while typing a novel? No, and you never will. Maybe mental injuries could be more prevalent with worldwide criticism and general trolling, but that’s not enough to keep me from pursing my dreams of being an author. I live a normal life without submitting to mediocrity. I guess I could be a three-dimensional character in someone’s novel. Or I could just do a complete self-insert, one of the two.
January 15, 2021
Save the World
VERSE 1
I talked some shit online about Dumbass Donald
And his favorite butt puppet Moscow McConnell
I got a million replies telling me I should die
Telling me they’ll drink my liberal tears if I cry
I got a head full of demons and nothing accomplished
Couldn’t find anything we could share in common
But at least I performed my own civic duty
Even though my mind is melting into something gooey
CHORUS
Why does everybody expect me to save the world?
By myself! With nobody else!
Why does everybody expect me to have superpowers?
I wasn’t born tough! I’m just a traumatized coward!
VERSE 2
I went to the protest and held up my cardboard sign
Got a face full of mace and now I’m legally blind
Got a beer bottle broken over my pretty little head
If I come for round two, they’ll shoot my ass dead
I got a hospital bill and not a damn thing changed
I’ve got years of therapy, who’s willing to pay?
But at least I can say that I’ve got some big balls
I hope they’ll help against my debt collection calls
CHORUS
Why does everybody expect me to save the world?
By myself! With nobody else!
Why does everybody expect me to have superpowers?
I wasn’t born tough! I’m just a traumatized coward!
BRIDGE
Is it too much to ask that I see some results
To go with my beatings and bigoted insults?
Is it too much to ask for systematic reform
When dystopia has become the new norm?
Is it too much to ask for some compensation
When I’m crucified by the Teabag nation?
Is it too much to ask that my efforts matter
Or should we keep making the fat cats fatter?
VERSE 3
I went to the courthouse and filed a lawsuit
Against everybody who dared to lick boots
Case dragged on for a whole millennium
I couldn’t outspend every single defendant
I did my best and not a fucking thing improved
No tears for me, because nobody was moved
I guess you could tell me, “Welcome to the club”
Before you beat my ass with it, stain it in blood
EXTENDED CHORUS
Why does everybody expect me to save the world?
By myself! With nobody else!
Why does everybody expect me to have superpowers?
I wasn’t born tough! I’m just a traumatized coward!
Why does everybody think I’ve got what it takes
Then brush it all off with the phrase, “That’s the breaks?”
Why can’t I just lay in bed with my pretty kitty?
I’m not Batman and this is not Gotham City!
I talked some shit online about Dumbass Donald
And his favorite butt puppet Moscow McConnell
I got a million replies telling me I should die
Telling me they’ll drink my liberal tears if I cry
I got a head full of demons and nothing accomplished
Couldn’t find anything we could share in common
But at least I performed my own civic duty
Even though my mind is melting into something gooey
CHORUS
Why does everybody expect me to save the world?
By myself! With nobody else!
Why does everybody expect me to have superpowers?
I wasn’t born tough! I’m just a traumatized coward!
VERSE 2
I went to the protest and held up my cardboard sign
Got a face full of mace and now I’m legally blind
Got a beer bottle broken over my pretty little head
If I come for round two, they’ll shoot my ass dead
I got a hospital bill and not a damn thing changed
I’ve got years of therapy, who’s willing to pay?
But at least I can say that I’ve got some big balls
I hope they’ll help against my debt collection calls
CHORUS
Why does everybody expect me to save the world?
By myself! With nobody else!
Why does everybody expect me to have superpowers?
I wasn’t born tough! I’m just a traumatized coward!
BRIDGE
Is it too much to ask that I see some results
To go with my beatings and bigoted insults?
Is it too much to ask for systematic reform
When dystopia has become the new norm?
Is it too much to ask for some compensation
When I’m crucified by the Teabag nation?
Is it too much to ask that my efforts matter
Or should we keep making the fat cats fatter?
VERSE 3
I went to the courthouse and filed a lawsuit
Against everybody who dared to lick boots
Case dragged on for a whole millennium
I couldn’t outspend every single defendant
I did my best and not a fucking thing improved
No tears for me, because nobody was moved
I guess you could tell me, “Welcome to the club”
Before you beat my ass with it, stain it in blood
EXTENDED CHORUS
Why does everybody expect me to save the world?
By myself! With nobody else!
Why does everybody expect me to have superpowers?
I wasn’t born tough! I’m just a traumatized coward!
Why does everybody think I’ve got what it takes
Then brush it all off with the phrase, “That’s the breaks?”
Why can’t I just lay in bed with my pretty kitty?
I’m not Batman and this is not Gotham City!
January 13, 2021
Hair vs. Hair
VERSE 1
While you were assed out, lost in a dream
I shaved your head bald like my man Mr. Clean
I’ll keep your locks as a game hunting trophy
For losing to me, it’s the least that you owe me
I could’ve cut out your silver-coated tongue
Could’ve ripped out your tobacco-coated lungs
Could’ve snipped off your two-inch pecker
Kept your sorry ass from being a home-wrecker
CHORUS
It’s hair vs. hair!
Should I use a razor or rip and tear?
It’s hair vs. hair!
Your scalp is so bloody, we call it rare
VERSE 2
No steaming hot towel over your face
No shoulder massage at a gentle pace
No aftershave with the vanilla scent
The beauty salon isn’t where you went
CHORUS
It’s hair vs. hair!
Should I use a razor or rip and tear?
It’s hair vs. hair!
Your scalp is so bloody, we call it rare
VERSE 3
With your chrome dome, you could join the army
Or be under the watch of a perverted carnie
It doesn’t feel good to be the victim, does it?
Then what makes you think I’d ever love it?
You don’t owe me a single dollar or penny
Your clumps of hair will be more than plenty
I’d say we’re even if only for the time being
Look into the mirror and hate what you’re seeing
EXTENDED CHORUS
It’s hair vs. hair!
Should I use a razor or rip and tear?
It’s hair vs. hair!
Your scalp is so bloody, we call it rare
It’s beauty vs. beast!
The roles have been reversed, you see
It’s man vs. monster!
One achieves victory, the other dishonor
It’s hair vs. hair!
A Medal of Freedom can never compare
To the feeling of keeping something of yours
No more lost sleep, in fact, I’ll fucking snore!
While you were assed out, lost in a dream
I shaved your head bald like my man Mr. Clean
I’ll keep your locks as a game hunting trophy
For losing to me, it’s the least that you owe me
I could’ve cut out your silver-coated tongue
Could’ve ripped out your tobacco-coated lungs
Could’ve snipped off your two-inch pecker
Kept your sorry ass from being a home-wrecker
CHORUS
It’s hair vs. hair!
Should I use a razor or rip and tear?
It’s hair vs. hair!
Your scalp is so bloody, we call it rare
VERSE 2
No steaming hot towel over your face
No shoulder massage at a gentle pace
No aftershave with the vanilla scent
The beauty salon isn’t where you went
CHORUS
It’s hair vs. hair!
Should I use a razor or rip and tear?
It’s hair vs. hair!
Your scalp is so bloody, we call it rare
VERSE 3
With your chrome dome, you could join the army
Or be under the watch of a perverted carnie
It doesn’t feel good to be the victim, does it?
Then what makes you think I’d ever love it?
You don’t owe me a single dollar or penny
Your clumps of hair will be more than plenty
I’d say we’re even if only for the time being
Look into the mirror and hate what you’re seeing
EXTENDED CHORUS
It’s hair vs. hair!
Should I use a razor or rip and tear?
It’s hair vs. hair!
Your scalp is so bloody, we call it rare
It’s beauty vs. beast!
The roles have been reversed, you see
It’s man vs. monster!
One achieves victory, the other dishonor
It’s hair vs. hair!
A Medal of Freedom can never compare
To the feeling of keeping something of yours
No more lost sleep, in fact, I’ll fucking snore!
January 4, 2021
Finding Treasure
Every last page of the treasure map has led you to this. Gold, glorious gold, beautiful gold, showers of gold…wait a minute…Anyways, now that you’ve found these mountains of lovely gold coins underneath the waterfall, you send your pirate crew to haul it onboard your vessel. As you sail away with the precious treasure, you fantasize about what you’ll spend your newfound fortune on. A much-needed vacation? An elaborate mansion? Women? Lots and lots of women? Men? Non-binaries?
Your mind races at a million miles an hour at the possibilities. And then...your train of thought has been derailed when your ship snaps in two like a twig. You and your crew are left floating around the seven seas like turds in a punchbowl. Yes, you’ve got your treasure after all of this hard work…but even your mighty vessel wasn’t strong enough to store it all. You overloaded your fucking ship and sank the damn thing. Way to go, champ! You truly are a million dollar baby and the seven seas have gotten even choppier with the addition of your salty tears.
Everybody wants to find treasure. Everybody wants to live beyond their means. Everybody fantasizes about the high life. But in the midst of their fantasies, they forget the logistics of undertaking such a quest. It’s like the episode of South Park with the underpants gnomes. Phase one, steal underwear. Phase two...Phase three, profit. The gnomes don’t know what phase two is and neither do the pirate captains looking for treasure.
That scenario I painted for you in the above paragraphs was actually the ending scene for Captain William Kidd from the 90’s fighting game World Heroes 2. He got so greedy for his beautiful gold that he took too much of it and it sank his ship. Captain Kidd is a lot of things in that game. He’s a great fighter, no doubt. He’s got friendly dialogue. Now we can add one more quality to his resume: dumbassery. Is that a word? It probably could be if English snobs are willing to let words like “avast, ye matey” float by without examination.
So…when constructing your story about treasure hunting, you first have to ask what it is your sea captain is looking for. It doesn’t always have to be ultra-heavy gold coins. It doesn’t even have to be multiple items. It could be a magical gem. It could be a weapon. It could be a key to the gates of heaven. It could be a book. If you think Potterheads camping outside of Barnes & Noble takes dedication, you’ve never met a sea captain who searches far and wide for a book of secrets beneath the Atlantic Ocean.
Anything can be a valuable treasure if you put enough stock into it. Even another human being can be considered a valuable treasure. Maybe the sea captain is looking for a sexy siren who when discovered will become his wife for all eternity. Sounds great in theory, but it’s not exactly healthy relationship material if one party has too much power over the other.
Okay, so you know what you want your sea captain to look for. How do they get it? Do they have access to a treasure map? If so, how difficult was it to find? Did they have to wrestle it out of the hands of an orcish army? An ogre bruiser? A sneaky goblin? What about the map itself? Is it just one sheet of paper or is it a fucking novel the size of Webster’s Dictionary? Is the map even in plain English or does the captain need a translator to accompany him on his treasure hunt? Does the translator know how to fight or will they be swallowed whole by a bloodthirsty kraken? If you really wanted to be a dick to your main character, you could have the map come in the form of a thick novel with missing pages scattered all over the world, each of them in a different foreign language. How many times can your sea captain’s patience be tested before they say, “Fuck it, I’ll live on the streets?”
As if finding the missing pages to a treasure map wasn’t enough of a pain in the ass, getting from point A to point B is full of obstacles that grind the captain’s patience down to nothing. I’ve already mentioned bloodthirsty krakens who’ll eat entire armies alive with just one bite, but not before they’re wrapped in the pirate ship’s mast and eaten like Hot Pockets. What about other pirates, though? Surely, you’re not so arrogant to believe you’re the only one who wants the treasure, right? That’s why psychology experts warn You Tube consumers not to fall in love with content creators: because there’s an army of watchers who feel the same way and the chances of you being chosen are pretty fucking slim.
So who are these other pirates going after your forbidden treasure? Skeletons? Orcs? Zombies? Dragon people? Or maybe they’re just ordinary humans. You can breathe a sigh of relief if the latter is the case, right? Not if they’re armed with AK-47’s and all you’ve got is a measly cutlass. I guarantee you Captain William Kidd wouldn’t stand a chance against Somali pirates. He can only throw the Shark Knuckle and Shark Upper so many times before he’s pumped full of lead. Those fighters in World Heroes 2 never really accounted for firearms, did they?
If the other pirates don’t kick the shit out of you, I guarantee that the oceans and general shitty weather will. Have you ridden on a boat with choppy waves before? I have. I was vacationing in Mexico in 2017 and part of my vacation was riding on a banana boat. Because the waves were rough and heavy, I fell off the damn boat and screamed for help until the lifeguards rescued me. The only reason why I didn’t scream earlier was because my head was underwater and bubbles don’t exactly translate well to above-surface lifeguards.
If you’re sailing the seven seas, chances are good that you’ll be bounced up and down by the rolling waves. Your crew will be jostled around so many times that some of them may even fall off the ship never to be seen again. And that’s just the ocean. What about the rain? And the lightning? Suppose the only translator you have for your overly-complex map gets struck by lightning and dies? Then he gets tossed overboard by the nasty-ass waves? You talk about being lost at sea? Bitch, you’ll be lucky if you’re ever found again. The Coast Guard ain’t going to save your ass, because if they were capable of doing so, they would have found the treasure long before you ever did.
You know those motivational quotes that tell you to take risks without thinking too much about the consequences of failure? They seem inspirational at first, but overall, it’s shitty advice, especially if you’re a sea captain. You have to think about the risk-reward factor all the time. Is it worth the danger of being swallowed whole by the sea? Is it worth being gutted alive by a skeleton crew’s cutlasses? Is it worth the sleepless nights? Is it worth being so tired that you’re constantly on the edge of having a stroke, heart attack, aneurism, or all three at the same time?
What will you do once you’ve found this sacred treasure? Will you save it for a rainy day (one that preferably doesn’t take place during your travels)? Will you spend it all at once on hookers and beer and be right back to where you started in a week’s time? Will you use the mountains of gold coins to pay your bills? Does your landlord or debt collector even accept gold coins as currency? Suppose your landlord says, “Sorry, we don’t accept Canadian money.” Your ass is out on the streets in a big fucking hurry. But at least you found your treasure! Right?
Even if you as an author don’t plan on writing a treasure hunting story of any kind, this can still be a valuable lesson in thinking things through before you rush into a project. If you improvise everything, you’ll have a shitty first draft and a lot of work ahead of you. If you plan everything in advance down to the finest detail, you’ll still have a shitty first draft, but you won’t have nearly as much work to do. I wish I heeded this advice when I started pumping out first drafts left and right.
One of the biggest criticisms I’ve ever received (aside from having too many saggy jowled dogs and fat male villains) was that I don’t take authority and culture into account when creating my worlds. I’ve often been asked, “Where are the cops?” My logical answer would have been that I want the MC to get the credit for the victory, not the cops. If the cops can solve everything, why have a story at all? Fair point, but the cops and authority figures still matter in every story. Or maybe the country is 100% anarchy and everybody solves their own damn problems. No matter what the case, it’s good to establish these things so that they’re clear to the reader.
But just because a fine eye for detail is required for any writing project, doesn’t mean you have to explain every…little…thing to the reader. There are some obvious parts of your world that you can trust your readers to form pictures of by themselves. Your book shouldn’t be overly long explanations sandwiching the crucial action and drama of your story. That shit just gets boring after a short while. I’ve DNFed books that took too long explaining everything, case in point, the first Game of Thrones book. The author wouldn’t shut his yap about the details of the characters’ clothes and histories, so the action suffered because of it. I would argue that Empress Theresa is the worst offender when it comes to over-explaining things. Then again, Empress Theresa is the worst offender no matter what category you’re talking about.
Finding a nice balance between over-explaining and not thinking at all about the extra details is paramount to a readable book, whether you’re writing about treasure hunting or not. Treasure hunting is just one genre that deserves this middle ground. It could also be true of contemporary dramas where the world-building details are the same as what we experience in real life. So maybe when Captain William Kidd washes up on the shore, he can build another pirate ship and only take half the gold this time around. And then he’d have to find a way to convert that gold into modern day money. If he really was the devious pirate he claimed to be, he could start his own pyramid scheme with that amount of gold. And then when he finally gets taken to court, he can bypass prison altogether and wind up in the safety of a nut house, because no modern day human being talks or dresses the way he does unless it’s Halloween. See? Details matter!
Your mind races at a million miles an hour at the possibilities. And then...your train of thought has been derailed when your ship snaps in two like a twig. You and your crew are left floating around the seven seas like turds in a punchbowl. Yes, you’ve got your treasure after all of this hard work…but even your mighty vessel wasn’t strong enough to store it all. You overloaded your fucking ship and sank the damn thing. Way to go, champ! You truly are a million dollar baby and the seven seas have gotten even choppier with the addition of your salty tears.
Everybody wants to find treasure. Everybody wants to live beyond their means. Everybody fantasizes about the high life. But in the midst of their fantasies, they forget the logistics of undertaking such a quest. It’s like the episode of South Park with the underpants gnomes. Phase one, steal underwear. Phase two...Phase three, profit. The gnomes don’t know what phase two is and neither do the pirate captains looking for treasure.
That scenario I painted for you in the above paragraphs was actually the ending scene for Captain William Kidd from the 90’s fighting game World Heroes 2. He got so greedy for his beautiful gold that he took too much of it and it sank his ship. Captain Kidd is a lot of things in that game. He’s a great fighter, no doubt. He’s got friendly dialogue. Now we can add one more quality to his resume: dumbassery. Is that a word? It probably could be if English snobs are willing to let words like “avast, ye matey” float by without examination.
So…when constructing your story about treasure hunting, you first have to ask what it is your sea captain is looking for. It doesn’t always have to be ultra-heavy gold coins. It doesn’t even have to be multiple items. It could be a magical gem. It could be a weapon. It could be a key to the gates of heaven. It could be a book. If you think Potterheads camping outside of Barnes & Noble takes dedication, you’ve never met a sea captain who searches far and wide for a book of secrets beneath the Atlantic Ocean.
Anything can be a valuable treasure if you put enough stock into it. Even another human being can be considered a valuable treasure. Maybe the sea captain is looking for a sexy siren who when discovered will become his wife for all eternity. Sounds great in theory, but it’s not exactly healthy relationship material if one party has too much power over the other.
Okay, so you know what you want your sea captain to look for. How do they get it? Do they have access to a treasure map? If so, how difficult was it to find? Did they have to wrestle it out of the hands of an orcish army? An ogre bruiser? A sneaky goblin? What about the map itself? Is it just one sheet of paper or is it a fucking novel the size of Webster’s Dictionary? Is the map even in plain English or does the captain need a translator to accompany him on his treasure hunt? Does the translator know how to fight or will they be swallowed whole by a bloodthirsty kraken? If you really wanted to be a dick to your main character, you could have the map come in the form of a thick novel with missing pages scattered all over the world, each of them in a different foreign language. How many times can your sea captain’s patience be tested before they say, “Fuck it, I’ll live on the streets?”
As if finding the missing pages to a treasure map wasn’t enough of a pain in the ass, getting from point A to point B is full of obstacles that grind the captain’s patience down to nothing. I’ve already mentioned bloodthirsty krakens who’ll eat entire armies alive with just one bite, but not before they’re wrapped in the pirate ship’s mast and eaten like Hot Pockets. What about other pirates, though? Surely, you’re not so arrogant to believe you’re the only one who wants the treasure, right? That’s why psychology experts warn You Tube consumers not to fall in love with content creators: because there’s an army of watchers who feel the same way and the chances of you being chosen are pretty fucking slim.
So who are these other pirates going after your forbidden treasure? Skeletons? Orcs? Zombies? Dragon people? Or maybe they’re just ordinary humans. You can breathe a sigh of relief if the latter is the case, right? Not if they’re armed with AK-47’s and all you’ve got is a measly cutlass. I guarantee you Captain William Kidd wouldn’t stand a chance against Somali pirates. He can only throw the Shark Knuckle and Shark Upper so many times before he’s pumped full of lead. Those fighters in World Heroes 2 never really accounted for firearms, did they?
If the other pirates don’t kick the shit out of you, I guarantee that the oceans and general shitty weather will. Have you ridden on a boat with choppy waves before? I have. I was vacationing in Mexico in 2017 and part of my vacation was riding on a banana boat. Because the waves were rough and heavy, I fell off the damn boat and screamed for help until the lifeguards rescued me. The only reason why I didn’t scream earlier was because my head was underwater and bubbles don’t exactly translate well to above-surface lifeguards.
If you’re sailing the seven seas, chances are good that you’ll be bounced up and down by the rolling waves. Your crew will be jostled around so many times that some of them may even fall off the ship never to be seen again. And that’s just the ocean. What about the rain? And the lightning? Suppose the only translator you have for your overly-complex map gets struck by lightning and dies? Then he gets tossed overboard by the nasty-ass waves? You talk about being lost at sea? Bitch, you’ll be lucky if you’re ever found again. The Coast Guard ain’t going to save your ass, because if they were capable of doing so, they would have found the treasure long before you ever did.
You know those motivational quotes that tell you to take risks without thinking too much about the consequences of failure? They seem inspirational at first, but overall, it’s shitty advice, especially if you’re a sea captain. You have to think about the risk-reward factor all the time. Is it worth the danger of being swallowed whole by the sea? Is it worth being gutted alive by a skeleton crew’s cutlasses? Is it worth the sleepless nights? Is it worth being so tired that you’re constantly on the edge of having a stroke, heart attack, aneurism, or all three at the same time?
What will you do once you’ve found this sacred treasure? Will you save it for a rainy day (one that preferably doesn’t take place during your travels)? Will you spend it all at once on hookers and beer and be right back to where you started in a week’s time? Will you use the mountains of gold coins to pay your bills? Does your landlord or debt collector even accept gold coins as currency? Suppose your landlord says, “Sorry, we don’t accept Canadian money.” Your ass is out on the streets in a big fucking hurry. But at least you found your treasure! Right?
Even if you as an author don’t plan on writing a treasure hunting story of any kind, this can still be a valuable lesson in thinking things through before you rush into a project. If you improvise everything, you’ll have a shitty first draft and a lot of work ahead of you. If you plan everything in advance down to the finest detail, you’ll still have a shitty first draft, but you won’t have nearly as much work to do. I wish I heeded this advice when I started pumping out first drafts left and right.
One of the biggest criticisms I’ve ever received (aside from having too many saggy jowled dogs and fat male villains) was that I don’t take authority and culture into account when creating my worlds. I’ve often been asked, “Where are the cops?” My logical answer would have been that I want the MC to get the credit for the victory, not the cops. If the cops can solve everything, why have a story at all? Fair point, but the cops and authority figures still matter in every story. Or maybe the country is 100% anarchy and everybody solves their own damn problems. No matter what the case, it’s good to establish these things so that they’re clear to the reader.
But just because a fine eye for detail is required for any writing project, doesn’t mean you have to explain every…little…thing to the reader. There are some obvious parts of your world that you can trust your readers to form pictures of by themselves. Your book shouldn’t be overly long explanations sandwiching the crucial action and drama of your story. That shit just gets boring after a short while. I’ve DNFed books that took too long explaining everything, case in point, the first Game of Thrones book. The author wouldn’t shut his yap about the details of the characters’ clothes and histories, so the action suffered because of it. I would argue that Empress Theresa is the worst offender when it comes to over-explaining things. Then again, Empress Theresa is the worst offender no matter what category you’re talking about.
Finding a nice balance between over-explaining and not thinking at all about the extra details is paramount to a readable book, whether you’re writing about treasure hunting or not. Treasure hunting is just one genre that deserves this middle ground. It could also be true of contemporary dramas where the world-building details are the same as what we experience in real life. So maybe when Captain William Kidd washes up on the shore, he can build another pirate ship and only take half the gold this time around. And then he’d have to find a way to convert that gold into modern day money. If he really was the devious pirate he claimed to be, he could start his own pyramid scheme with that amount of gold. And then when he finally gets taken to court, he can bypass prison altogether and wind up in the safety of a nut house, because no modern day human being talks or dresses the way he does unless it’s Halloween. See? Details matter!
December 31, 2020
We Love You, Alejandro Cherrystone
Every last page of his love letter collection
Breathed new life into his bloody erection
“We love you, Alejandro Cherrystone!
We can do it in your cell or on the phone
We know you’ve skinned your victims raw
We know you broke a prostitute’s jaw
We know you mutilated neighborhood pets
It doesn’t make us lust for you any less”
Every last page of the dirtiest magazines
Is filled with beauty nobody’s ever seen
Long black locks and androgynous lips
Tight black Speedo clinging to his hips
A six-pack that he worked hard to sculpt
Smooth legs that could start his own sex cult
It’s easy to forget his towering body count
Even when formaldehyde assaults your snout
Every last page of the stenographer’s notes
Crushes every baby girl’s romantic hopes
A heart like his could never be warm
Neither could his corpses left out in the storm
A life behind bars is what he so deserves
Not to be sexed up by the youngest of pervs
Not to be a wet dream for teenage queens
There’d be no debate if he looked like a fiend
Every last page of his death certificate
Makes claims of innocence insignificant
Stabbed to death with a rusty shank
While making a deposit in the sperm bank
Shower water washed away his blood
And the mess left by his supermodel butt
Never mind leaving flowers on his grave
Unless it’s necrophilia which you crave
Every last page of his docudrama script
Now smolders in a pyromantic abyss
No glory for killers, no cinematic thrillers
But compensation for his victims’ tear-spillers
They don’t have to forgive for Jesus’ sake
If Alejandro was alive, he’d continue to take
Never giving back to the world he bloodied
Except for hybristophilia to his favorite honeys
Rest in piss and we’ll see you in hell
This is the only story we should tell
Until the next killer casts a horny spell
Until the next cult forms, oh fucking well
Breathed new life into his bloody erection
“We love you, Alejandro Cherrystone!
We can do it in your cell or on the phone
We know you’ve skinned your victims raw
We know you broke a prostitute’s jaw
We know you mutilated neighborhood pets
It doesn’t make us lust for you any less”
Every last page of the dirtiest magazines
Is filled with beauty nobody’s ever seen
Long black locks and androgynous lips
Tight black Speedo clinging to his hips
A six-pack that he worked hard to sculpt
Smooth legs that could start his own sex cult
It’s easy to forget his towering body count
Even when formaldehyde assaults your snout
Every last page of the stenographer’s notes
Crushes every baby girl’s romantic hopes
A heart like his could never be warm
Neither could his corpses left out in the storm
A life behind bars is what he so deserves
Not to be sexed up by the youngest of pervs
Not to be a wet dream for teenage queens
There’d be no debate if he looked like a fiend
Every last page of his death certificate
Makes claims of innocence insignificant
Stabbed to death with a rusty shank
While making a deposit in the sperm bank
Shower water washed away his blood
And the mess left by his supermodel butt
Never mind leaving flowers on his grave
Unless it’s necrophilia which you crave
Every last page of his docudrama script
Now smolders in a pyromantic abyss
No glory for killers, no cinematic thrillers
But compensation for his victims’ tear-spillers
They don’t have to forgive for Jesus’ sake
If Alejandro was alive, he’d continue to take
Never giving back to the world he bloodied
Except for hybristophilia to his favorite honeys
Rest in piss and we’ll see you in hell
This is the only story we should tell
Until the next killer casts a horny spell
Until the next cult forms, oh fucking well
December 28, 2020
Playtime
MOVIE TITLE: Playtime
DIRECTOR: Dale Trevillion
YEAR: 1994
GENRE: Softcore Drama
RATING: R for sexual content (duh), violence, and language
GRADE: B
Yes, ladies, gentlemen, and non-binaries, it’s true. It’s all true. I’m so bankrupt for creative fuel that I’m actually going to analyze and review…a softcore porn movie. And because of the content I’m about to describe, I will not post this review on Amazon for fear of it getting deleted. Everywhere else is fair game. If the idea of two women masturbating in front of each other while staring at a naked pool man offends you, avert your eyes right away. If the idea of a man and woman having hot tub sex while an extra woman masturbates and even kisses the man upsets you, turn away now. If the idea of a stepmother giving her stepson a handjob in the name of sex education gets your knickers in a twist, well, you know the drill by now.
According to this narrative’s faulty logic, when the husbands are away playing golf, the wives will find excuses to masturbate. Any excuse they can. I’m bored, Geena, what do you want to do? I know, Lindsey! Let’s masturbate! Great idea! Yes, it seems like a great idea on paper, at least to one of the husbands (Joe). But to the other husband (Brad), it’s just another form of adultery. From a storytelling standpoint, the drama is there, but the logic is not. Of course it’s cheating! How is Brad the only one to realize this?! Divorce court is in session. Just kidding! The husbands unofficially trade wives and the cycle of cheating starts over again. Admittedly, nobody watches softcore porn for the storylines and character arcs alone. If they did, the movies would be poorly rated across the board. Same thing goes with the more hardcore stuff: the audience isn’t there for the existential crisis of a pizza delivery boy. They want to see some fucking!
And if it’s fucking you want, it’s fucking you’ll get! If you’re watching this movie in the Porn Hub era, you’ve been spoiled rotten and may not find the ejaculation you’re looking for in Playtime. But if you’re just getting introduced to sexual content…holy shit! Geena and Lindsey masturbating in front of each other will always sound appealing. Lindsey giving Joe a blowjob while he’s lying on a bearskin rug? Perfecto! Even something as simple as Geena and Brad having ordinary missionary sex will seem extraordinary to untainted eyes.
But I have to warn you ahead of time that you’ll become desensitized to the hot moments over the course of the movie. It’ll feel like they’re trying too hard to keep your sexual attention and they do. But once Brad starts telling his story about being seduced by his stepmother, it’ll be like a fresh new start. From a masturbatory standpoint, if you’re not already spoiled by internet porn, this movie will get you through your horniest moments, just like it did for me when I was younger. Lindsey comes off like a temptress because she believes in her own sexuality. She wears thong panties and bikini bottoms because she’s confident, not because she’s trying too hard. She’s easily the star of the show when it comes to sexual attention.
You could have a whole debate on how pornography of all kinds produces an unrealistic expectation of sex and you’d have a credible argument. Unless you’re in an open relationship, don’t expect your significant other to have as much enthusiasm for extramarital mutual masturbation as Joe had. I guarantee you if Lindsey touched herself in front of another man, he wouldn’t be so happy with her. As long as you question these sexual tropes and know that it’s a work of pure fiction, you won’t be damaged too much. You could argue that younger viewers won’t be able to distinguish reality from fantasy, so why not educate them on it?
Playtime has one goal above all else: to help its audience achieve orgasms straight across the board. It’s not an example of competent storytelling, but it doesn’t have to be. Sometimes a little cheesiness is necessary for an orgasm or long-lasting fantasy. Although, the scene where Geena and Lindsey describe their fantasies of having sex with door-to-door salesmen came out of nowhere in a big fucking hurry. Sounds like the writers just pulled that out of their asses. Also, the scene where Brad talks about his father beating the shit out of him sounds like a half-assed attempt to get sympathy on him.
But you know what? Despite the flaws, I’ll be forever grateful for this movie coming into my life when it did. Yeah, I was young enough to warrant being kept away from it, but when has that authoritarian state of mind ever worked? If I want to jerk off, I’ll jerk off. I have a whole lifetime to question what I’ve watched and that’s why this movie gets a B instead of an A (those are grades, not sexual puns). If this movie had been anything but a steamy erotica, it would get at most a D and at worst an F (again, those are grades, not sexual puns). This is my grading system and this is my school. Class dismissed! Please report to Sheridan (Brad’s stepmom) for Sexual Education 101 – Intro to Cheesy Sex.
DIRECTOR: Dale Trevillion
YEAR: 1994
GENRE: Softcore Drama
RATING: R for sexual content (duh), violence, and language
GRADE: B
Yes, ladies, gentlemen, and non-binaries, it’s true. It’s all true. I’m so bankrupt for creative fuel that I’m actually going to analyze and review…a softcore porn movie. And because of the content I’m about to describe, I will not post this review on Amazon for fear of it getting deleted. Everywhere else is fair game. If the idea of two women masturbating in front of each other while staring at a naked pool man offends you, avert your eyes right away. If the idea of a man and woman having hot tub sex while an extra woman masturbates and even kisses the man upsets you, turn away now. If the idea of a stepmother giving her stepson a handjob in the name of sex education gets your knickers in a twist, well, you know the drill by now.
According to this narrative’s faulty logic, when the husbands are away playing golf, the wives will find excuses to masturbate. Any excuse they can. I’m bored, Geena, what do you want to do? I know, Lindsey! Let’s masturbate! Great idea! Yes, it seems like a great idea on paper, at least to one of the husbands (Joe). But to the other husband (Brad), it’s just another form of adultery. From a storytelling standpoint, the drama is there, but the logic is not. Of course it’s cheating! How is Brad the only one to realize this?! Divorce court is in session. Just kidding! The husbands unofficially trade wives and the cycle of cheating starts over again. Admittedly, nobody watches softcore porn for the storylines and character arcs alone. If they did, the movies would be poorly rated across the board. Same thing goes with the more hardcore stuff: the audience isn’t there for the existential crisis of a pizza delivery boy. They want to see some fucking!
And if it’s fucking you want, it’s fucking you’ll get! If you’re watching this movie in the Porn Hub era, you’ve been spoiled rotten and may not find the ejaculation you’re looking for in Playtime. But if you’re just getting introduced to sexual content…holy shit! Geena and Lindsey masturbating in front of each other will always sound appealing. Lindsey giving Joe a blowjob while he’s lying on a bearskin rug? Perfecto! Even something as simple as Geena and Brad having ordinary missionary sex will seem extraordinary to untainted eyes.
But I have to warn you ahead of time that you’ll become desensitized to the hot moments over the course of the movie. It’ll feel like they’re trying too hard to keep your sexual attention and they do. But once Brad starts telling his story about being seduced by his stepmother, it’ll be like a fresh new start. From a masturbatory standpoint, if you’re not already spoiled by internet porn, this movie will get you through your horniest moments, just like it did for me when I was younger. Lindsey comes off like a temptress because she believes in her own sexuality. She wears thong panties and bikini bottoms because she’s confident, not because she’s trying too hard. She’s easily the star of the show when it comes to sexual attention.
You could have a whole debate on how pornography of all kinds produces an unrealistic expectation of sex and you’d have a credible argument. Unless you’re in an open relationship, don’t expect your significant other to have as much enthusiasm for extramarital mutual masturbation as Joe had. I guarantee you if Lindsey touched herself in front of another man, he wouldn’t be so happy with her. As long as you question these sexual tropes and know that it’s a work of pure fiction, you won’t be damaged too much. You could argue that younger viewers won’t be able to distinguish reality from fantasy, so why not educate them on it?
Playtime has one goal above all else: to help its audience achieve orgasms straight across the board. It’s not an example of competent storytelling, but it doesn’t have to be. Sometimes a little cheesiness is necessary for an orgasm or long-lasting fantasy. Although, the scene where Geena and Lindsey describe their fantasies of having sex with door-to-door salesmen came out of nowhere in a big fucking hurry. Sounds like the writers just pulled that out of their asses. Also, the scene where Brad talks about his father beating the shit out of him sounds like a half-assed attempt to get sympathy on him.
But you know what? Despite the flaws, I’ll be forever grateful for this movie coming into my life when it did. Yeah, I was young enough to warrant being kept away from it, but when has that authoritarian state of mind ever worked? If I want to jerk off, I’ll jerk off. I have a whole lifetime to question what I’ve watched and that’s why this movie gets a B instead of an A (those are grades, not sexual puns). If this movie had been anything but a steamy erotica, it would get at most a D and at worst an F (again, those are grades, not sexual puns). This is my grading system and this is my school. Class dismissed! Please report to Sheridan (Brad’s stepmom) for Sexual Education 101 – Intro to Cheesy Sex.
December 21, 2020
Beautiful Monster Official Soundtrack
Commonsense dictates that I should be in bed right now considering it’s about two in the morning. But instead, I put together my official soundtrack for Beautiful Monster. There are twenty songs on this list and they total up to an hour and eighteen minutes of play time. Starting with…
1. “Beautiful Monster” by Otherwise (no shit, Sherlock)
2. “Between You and Nowhere” by Hellyeah
3. “Crying Out” by Shinedown
4. “The Dark of You” by Breaking Benjamin
5. “Death” by Demon Hunter
6. “Don’t Leave Me Now” by Pink Floyd
7. “For You” by Marko Hietala
8. “Frozen” by Within Temptation
9. “Fuck Love” by All That Remains
10. “Heavy” by Linkin Park
11. “Holding My Breath” by Alien Weaponry
12. “A Little Bit Off” by Five Finger Death Punch
13. “Love Is Blue” by Paul Mauriat (of course)
14. “My Immortal” by Evanescence
15. “Nothing’s Fair in Love and War” by Three Days Grace
16. “Say Goodnight” by Gemini Syndrome
17. “Scarlet” by In This Moment
18. “Sickened” by Disturbed
19. “Volcanic” by Death Angel
20. “You Love Me ‘Cause I Hate You” by Lacuna Coil
1. “Beautiful Monster” by Otherwise (no shit, Sherlock)
2. “Between You and Nowhere” by Hellyeah
3. “Crying Out” by Shinedown
4. “The Dark of You” by Breaking Benjamin
5. “Death” by Demon Hunter
6. “Don’t Leave Me Now” by Pink Floyd
7. “For You” by Marko Hietala
8. “Frozen” by Within Temptation
9. “Fuck Love” by All That Remains
10. “Heavy” by Linkin Park
11. “Holding My Breath” by Alien Weaponry
12. “A Little Bit Off” by Five Finger Death Punch
13. “Love Is Blue” by Paul Mauriat (of course)
14. “My Immortal” by Evanescence
15. “Nothing’s Fair in Love and War” by Three Days Grace
16. “Say Goodnight” by Gemini Syndrome
17. “Scarlet” by In This Moment
18. “Sickened” by Disturbed
19. “Volcanic” by Death Angel
20. “You Love Me ‘Cause I Hate You” by Lacuna Coil
December 18, 2020
Rest in Power, Gay Reynolds
His driver’s license said Gabriel, he went by Gay
He’d do anything and anyone to get his fat payday
He had the 70’s moustache and a tray full of ash
Viagra and cocaine tucked inside his private stash
Eight hours of on-camera sex was what he had
A waterfall climax until his pecker looked so sad
For god knows how much money, the gig wasn’t bad
No longer will he miss a payment on his bachelor pad
Couldn’t find this kind of cheddar jockeying a cash box
Couldn’t find all these greenbacks curing smallpox
Would end up on the streets if he went to school to teach
Couldn’t cut it as a field hand picking every last peach
But the biggest price he paid when he got himself laid
Was some protests on his lawn and some online shade
More DM’s in his inbox than he could possibly delete
Asking for a free fuck, on their marriages they cheat
Every judgmental eye stares some daggers in his soul
They know about every hole, terrorism is their goal
A Molotov bomb thrown through his front window
Before they even get a chance to try to fucking know
What his struggles really are, explosives in his car
Blowing every little piece of him fifty feet apart
Why all of the hate for a guy trying to get by?
Couldn’t win against capitalism even if he tried
No love from the police, not a desist or a cease
Not even a bodyguard with a wild pay increase
The world learned to hate, so they sealed his fate
Could’ve been a porno legend, could’ve been great
Everybody mocks what they don’t understand
Rest in Power, Gay Reynolds, in the Promised Land
Never did he know that he left behind a daughter
Mother was a fellow actress also led to slaughter
A kid in foster care never stood a chance there
I wouldn’t blame her if she was constantly scared
Calling out for her parents but the bullies answer
Wishing her to have a malignant form of cancer
Who is anybody to point and laugh and judge?
Roles were reversed? Life would be just as tough
He’d do anything and anyone to get his fat payday
He had the 70’s moustache and a tray full of ash
Viagra and cocaine tucked inside his private stash
Eight hours of on-camera sex was what he had
A waterfall climax until his pecker looked so sad
For god knows how much money, the gig wasn’t bad
No longer will he miss a payment on his bachelor pad
Couldn’t find this kind of cheddar jockeying a cash box
Couldn’t find all these greenbacks curing smallpox
Would end up on the streets if he went to school to teach
Couldn’t cut it as a field hand picking every last peach
But the biggest price he paid when he got himself laid
Was some protests on his lawn and some online shade
More DM’s in his inbox than he could possibly delete
Asking for a free fuck, on their marriages they cheat
Every judgmental eye stares some daggers in his soul
They know about every hole, terrorism is their goal
A Molotov bomb thrown through his front window
Before they even get a chance to try to fucking know
What his struggles really are, explosives in his car
Blowing every little piece of him fifty feet apart
Why all of the hate for a guy trying to get by?
Couldn’t win against capitalism even if he tried
No love from the police, not a desist or a cease
Not even a bodyguard with a wild pay increase
The world learned to hate, so they sealed his fate
Could’ve been a porno legend, could’ve been great
Everybody mocks what they don’t understand
Rest in Power, Gay Reynolds, in the Promised Land
Never did he know that he left behind a daughter
Mother was a fellow actress also led to slaughter
A kid in foster care never stood a chance there
I wouldn’t blame her if she was constantly scared
Calling out for her parents but the bullies answer
Wishing her to have a malignant form of cancer
Who is anybody to point and laugh and judge?
Roles were reversed? Life would be just as tough
December 8, 2020
Die For the Lie
OPENING LINE
Such a waste of valuable human life…just to die for the lie!
VERSE 1
This is the hill you’re willing to die on
This is the slab you’re willing to lie on
Wasted your life on conspiracy theories
You had so many chances to see clearly
No sympathy for you when you lose
Only sympathy for the victims you choose
Could’ve dug yourself out of the pipeline
But you still held on to that little white lie
CHORUS
Die for the lie! Eye for an eye!
No wonder you’re so damn blind!
Die for the lie! Ask yourself why!
You didn’t give the other side a try!
VERSE 2
The only juicy nugget that you’ve got
Is in your underwear leaving a brown spot
You’ve got more nuggets than body parts
You’re full of shit, in case you’re not smart
CHORUS
Die for the lie! Eye for an eye!
No wonder you’re so damn blind!
Die for the lie! Ask yourself why!
You didn’t give the other side a try!
VERSE 3
You only have ears for the loudest voices
You only have a mind for the stupidest choices
You only have a spine for unproven rumors
You only have a life until you’ve got brain tumors
CHORUS
Die for the lie! Eye for an eye!
No wonder you’re so damn blind!
Die for the lie! Ask yourself why!
You didn’t give the other side a try!
FINAL VERSE
You did it all for the cheap comedy
But all you achieved was self-sodomy
Keep on laughing, give yourself a heart attack
You’re better off as a maggot’s favorite snack
FINAL CHORUS
Die for the lie!
Eye for an eye!
Ask yourself why!
You died for the lie!
Such a waste of valuable human life…just to die for the lie!
VERSE 1
This is the hill you’re willing to die on
This is the slab you’re willing to lie on
Wasted your life on conspiracy theories
You had so many chances to see clearly
No sympathy for you when you lose
Only sympathy for the victims you choose
Could’ve dug yourself out of the pipeline
But you still held on to that little white lie
CHORUS
Die for the lie! Eye for an eye!
No wonder you’re so damn blind!
Die for the lie! Ask yourself why!
You didn’t give the other side a try!
VERSE 2
The only juicy nugget that you’ve got
Is in your underwear leaving a brown spot
You’ve got more nuggets than body parts
You’re full of shit, in case you’re not smart
CHORUS
Die for the lie! Eye for an eye!
No wonder you’re so damn blind!
Die for the lie! Ask yourself why!
You didn’t give the other side a try!
VERSE 3
You only have ears for the loudest voices
You only have a mind for the stupidest choices
You only have a spine for unproven rumors
You only have a life until you’ve got brain tumors
CHORUS
Die for the lie! Eye for an eye!
No wonder you’re so damn blind!
Die for the lie! Ask yourself why!
You didn’t give the other side a try!
FINAL VERSE
You did it all for the cheap comedy
But all you achieved was self-sodomy
Keep on laughing, give yourself a heart attack
You’re better off as a maggot’s favorite snack
FINAL CHORUS
Die for the lie!
Eye for an eye!
Ask yourself why!
You died for the lie!
