Garrison Kelly's Blog, page 42
July 7, 2019
Prisoner of My Own Mind
VERSE 1
This ain’t no dreamscape, I need an escape
A vacation from my self-destructive fate
My mind is a prison, my soul is the warden
My empty eyes have the stare of a gorgon
Every detail is chosen for me in advance
Who will I befriend? With whom will I dance?
When do I get to express my creative freedom?
When do I get to win this war on my demons?
CHORUS
I’m a prisoner of my own mind
The life sentence is always mine
I’m a prisoner of my own soul
Orange suit slave is my only role
VERSE 2
A permanent lock that slows down the clock
Another head for the executioner’s chopping block
Another statistic on a government pie chart
Another nightmare that tears me the fuck apart
CHORUS
I’m a prisoner of my own mind
The life sentence is always mine
I’m a prisoner of my own soul
Orange suit slave is my only role
BRIDGE
Life sentence or death sentence?
Witness testimony or DNA evidence?
Solitary confinement or general population?
Another day of psychological taxation
EXTENDED CHORUS
I’m a prisoner of my own mind
The life sentence is always mine
I’m a prisoner of my own soul
Orange suit slave is my only role
I’m sitting in the electric chair
A head scalped of all its hair
Freedom, take me to a better place
Where everything’s at a slower pace
This ain’t no dreamscape, I need an escape
A vacation from my self-destructive fate
My mind is a prison, my soul is the warden
My empty eyes have the stare of a gorgon
Every detail is chosen for me in advance
Who will I befriend? With whom will I dance?
When do I get to express my creative freedom?
When do I get to win this war on my demons?
CHORUS
I’m a prisoner of my own mind
The life sentence is always mine
I’m a prisoner of my own soul
Orange suit slave is my only role
VERSE 2
A permanent lock that slows down the clock
Another head for the executioner’s chopping block
Another statistic on a government pie chart
Another nightmare that tears me the fuck apart
CHORUS
I’m a prisoner of my own mind
The life sentence is always mine
I’m a prisoner of my own soul
Orange suit slave is my only role
BRIDGE
Life sentence or death sentence?
Witness testimony or DNA evidence?
Solitary confinement or general population?
Another day of psychological taxation
EXTENDED CHORUS
I’m a prisoner of my own mind
The life sentence is always mine
I’m a prisoner of my own soul
Orange suit slave is my only role
I’m sitting in the electric chair
A head scalped of all its hair
Freedom, take me to a better place
Where everything’s at a slower pace
July 4, 2019
Bipolar Rock n' Roller
MOVIE TITLE: Bipolar Rock n’ Roller
DIRECTOR: Haris Usanovic
YEAR: 2018
GENRE: Sports Documentary
RATING: TV-MA for language
GRADE: Extra Credit
Canadian farm boy Mauro Ranallo wanted to be a sports announcer since he was just a little kid. With unlimited energy and an infectious attitude, he was a perfect fit from an early age. However, the stresses of fame along with the death of his best friend Michael caused him to have a breakdown when he was nineteen years old. He was later diagnosed with bipolar disorder, a mental illness that hospitalized him eight times over his lifespan. He still tried to maintain an announcing career despite his ups and downs. In today’s world he is a much-appreciated part of WWE NXT’s commentary team. The Wrestling Observer Newsletter has awarded him Best Television Announcer from 2015 through 2017 and it’s easy to understand why: his passion is genuine and his energy is unstoppable.
You don’t have to be a sports junkie in order to appreciate Mauro Ranallo’s struggles. Bipolar disorder and mental illness in general is a life sentence for all it affects. Even with medication, exercise, therapy, and doing all the right things, you can still have high days and low days. Some days you feel like you can take on the world and other days you just want to stay in bed and never wake up again. Watching Mauro have a depressive episode where he cries is heartbreaking. You feel for this man. You want him to get better. You want him to live the life he’s always wanted to live. Every failure and every rock bottom moment will hit you hard. If it doesn’t, you need to have your pulse checked. My brother and I both suffer from mental illnesses and Mauro’s episodes are all too familiar, whether it’s the tiredness, the crying, or the suicidal thoughts. Nobody wants to see Mauro Ranallo commit suicide, but he came very close to doing so on several occasions.
But on the other side of his long and exhausting journey is a light at the end of the tunnel. By virtue of conquering his demons and doing what he loves most for a living, Mauro Ranallo is an inspiration to us all. If he can follow his passions, the rest of us can too. If he can open up about his struggles, we all should be taking notes. He reminds us over and over again that people with mental illness are not alone in this world. We’re not crazy. We’re not stereotypes. We’re living, breathing human beings and three-dimensional characters. If we have to do art therapy to get through our days, then so be it. If we have to take medication, it has to be done. If we have to find a place to live where marijuana is legal, by all means, go for it. If you can see tomorrow, you must be doing something right.
Mauro Ranallo was not a perfect human being growing up. His behavior made a lot of people angry from coworkers to family members to his ex-girlfriend. But hearing his story from beginning to end gives humanity to all the “crazy” behavior. I love three-dimensional people. I love it when the ordinary becomes the extraordinary. I love it when the underdog can conquer it all, which is really what sports like MMA and pro-wrestling are all about, really. For those reasons, Bipolar Rock n’ Roller gets an extra credit grade. We love you, Mauro. Don’t ever doubt yourself again.
DIRECTOR: Haris Usanovic
YEAR: 2018
GENRE: Sports Documentary
RATING: TV-MA for language
GRADE: Extra Credit
Canadian farm boy Mauro Ranallo wanted to be a sports announcer since he was just a little kid. With unlimited energy and an infectious attitude, he was a perfect fit from an early age. However, the stresses of fame along with the death of his best friend Michael caused him to have a breakdown when he was nineteen years old. He was later diagnosed with bipolar disorder, a mental illness that hospitalized him eight times over his lifespan. He still tried to maintain an announcing career despite his ups and downs. In today’s world he is a much-appreciated part of WWE NXT’s commentary team. The Wrestling Observer Newsletter has awarded him Best Television Announcer from 2015 through 2017 and it’s easy to understand why: his passion is genuine and his energy is unstoppable.
You don’t have to be a sports junkie in order to appreciate Mauro Ranallo’s struggles. Bipolar disorder and mental illness in general is a life sentence for all it affects. Even with medication, exercise, therapy, and doing all the right things, you can still have high days and low days. Some days you feel like you can take on the world and other days you just want to stay in bed and never wake up again. Watching Mauro have a depressive episode where he cries is heartbreaking. You feel for this man. You want him to get better. You want him to live the life he’s always wanted to live. Every failure and every rock bottom moment will hit you hard. If it doesn’t, you need to have your pulse checked. My brother and I both suffer from mental illnesses and Mauro’s episodes are all too familiar, whether it’s the tiredness, the crying, or the suicidal thoughts. Nobody wants to see Mauro Ranallo commit suicide, but he came very close to doing so on several occasions.
But on the other side of his long and exhausting journey is a light at the end of the tunnel. By virtue of conquering his demons and doing what he loves most for a living, Mauro Ranallo is an inspiration to us all. If he can follow his passions, the rest of us can too. If he can open up about his struggles, we all should be taking notes. He reminds us over and over again that people with mental illness are not alone in this world. We’re not crazy. We’re not stereotypes. We’re living, breathing human beings and three-dimensional characters. If we have to do art therapy to get through our days, then so be it. If we have to take medication, it has to be done. If we have to find a place to live where marijuana is legal, by all means, go for it. If you can see tomorrow, you must be doing something right.
Mauro Ranallo was not a perfect human being growing up. His behavior made a lot of people angry from coworkers to family members to his ex-girlfriend. But hearing his story from beginning to end gives humanity to all the “crazy” behavior. I love three-dimensional people. I love it when the ordinary becomes the extraordinary. I love it when the underdog can conquer it all, which is really what sports like MMA and pro-wrestling are all about, really. For those reasons, Bipolar Rock n’ Roller gets an extra credit grade. We love you, Mauro. Don’t ever doubt yourself again.
July 3, 2019
Smells Like a Brewery
“The director will be here really soon, guys, really soon!” said Riley Steel with limited conviction as she stared at her watch. Putting on a red cocktail dress and high heeled sandals for nothing wasn’t her idea of a productive day. She tapped her foot while other crew members and actors milled around waiting for their director to come. The stage was all set. Everyone was ready to go. “Where the hell is he?” And then the repugnant odor of alcohol assaulted her nostrils like a boxing champion’s knockout uppercut. “Oh no,” said Riley while shaking her head in shame.
Fashionably late, Director Devon Rollins came staggering into the studio with a beer bottle in one hand and a whole lot of nothing in the other. This was what his cinematic masterpiece Marble Halls meant to him. This was what he signed a contract for: so that he could show up whenever he wanted to in ridiculously baggy clothes, disheveled brown hair, stubble on his face, and a beer stench that could be whiffed from space.
Devon stood in front of his director’s chair and hummed while battering his lips up and down with his index finger. In the most offensively ableist voice imaginable, he said, “Why’s…everybody…always picking…on…me?” He took a seat in his chair and fell on the back of his neck, much to the shock and horror of everyone on set.
“Good God almighty,” said Riley with shock in her eyes as she watched Devon struggle to get up and reposition his chair.
He got an A for effort, but then stumbled over the chair again and just laid on the floor defeated and dizzy. Throughout all of his drunken posturing, he still managed to keep his beer bottle in his hand. Another A for effort for an acting job that was surely an acquired taste, just like the alcohol that he was smashed on.
Riley’s lips curled with anger as she kicked off her uncomfortable heels and marched over to her drunken director. She kneeled down and grabbed him by his Star Wars T-shirt before shaking and slapping the shit out of him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! You smell like a goddamn brewery! We’ve been waiting for you since ten-thirty this morning!”
Burping and slurring his words, Devon said, “I can’t do this anymore, Linda” before dunking his head backwards and falling asleep.
Riley growled before grabbing her director’s greasy hair and slamming his head against the floor once just to wake him up. After Devon yelled to indicate he was awake, his actress tore into him some more. “It’s Riley, not Linda, you idiot! Pull yourself together, for god’s sake!”
“Sure thing, Tina!” said Devon with an obnoxious burp and a thumbs up.
Riley shook her head and watched as actors and crew members filed out of the studio, not wanting any more of Devon’s shit. “Are you happy now?” she asked rhetorically. “Look at them! They’re walking out on you and I should probably do the same thing. The only thing keeping me from doing so is a little something called a contract. You know, that thing you sign which legally binds you to work on Marble Halls. This is your project, Devon! You have to do it professionally! Otherwise, we’re screwed!”
Devon took a few moments to catch his breath, which still reeked worse than a frat boy’s asshole after doing a tampon chug. “Divas…you’re all divas…”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nobody will do what I say, Tiffany. I give them one direction and they tell me no like they’ve got a choice. I’m the director. I call the shots! If I have to be a North Carolina dictator, then so be it!” Devon ended his rant with another burp, this time with liquid bubbling up in his throat.
Riley made a disgusted face. “So that’s why you started drinking? Because nobody will do what they’re told? In case you hadn’t noticed, Marble Halls is a team effort. It’s not just a bunch of people doing what they’re told. We have input. We have feelings. We have reservations. For example…do you remember that day I refused to do a nude scene for you?”
“Yeah…I remember…you’re a diva too, Rebecca. It’s part of the script. If the script says take your clothes off, then you take your clothes off.”
Riley folded her arms. “Yeah, the script does say that. The script, by the way, that you wrote from beginning to end, by yourself, with no criticism from others. If anybody has the power to negotiate with his own actors, it’s you. Besides, why does that script even need a nude scene anyways? How does it advance the story? Are you sure you didn’t just put it in there because you don’t know how internet porn works?”
“…Ouch, Ronda. Very, very ouch…”
“Truth hurts, doesn’t it?”
“No, I actually mean ouch. Get your knee off my gut!”
Riley stood up and backed away just in time to watch Devon spit up a fountain of barf, covering his own face and chest in biological sludge. He breathed heavily after that while his lead actress could only look on in pity. She shook her head. “Go home, Devon. You’re drunk. Nobody wants to be around you right now. Just go home and sleep it off. We’ll pick up again tomorrow and hopefully you’ll be sober by then.”
“But…what about that contract thingamabob? Isn’t the executioner producer going to be pissed?” Another burp erupted from Devon’s mouth as did a wad of bile.
“To be honest, I’ll take my chances with the EXECUTIVE producer. I’m sure he’ll give me a way out of my contract after what you did today. Besides, if anybody is getting blamed for all of this, it’s you, Mr. North Carolina dictator!” She picked up her heels and tried to leave the studio.
“Wait!” mumbled Devon as he clutched his actress’s ankle. “Don’t go! I…I…”
“You what? You want me to convince the cast and crew to come back? You want me to convince the executive producer not to blacklist or sue your ass? Let go of my damn ankle, Harvey Weinstein!”
“No, that’s not what I meant!” Devon coughed and got some acidic spittle on Riley’s bare foot. “I mean…I need someone to drive me home.”
“I’ll call you a taxi.”
“No…I want you to be the one who drives me.”
Riley scoffed. “Yeah, like I’m going to let you stink up my nice Volvo with your beer and vomit breath. You can sleep on the floor for all I care.”
“Wait! Wait, please…I’m not looking for a way home…I want you to take me to Paradise Rehab.”
Riley’s expression softened as she kneeled down beside her director. “You want to check into rehab?”
“I do…I really do…listen to me just for a moment. I know I’m blitzed right now, but I still have something to say.” Devon took a while to catch his rotten breath. “This drinking problem has been going on for a long time now. This is really the first time I came to the set drunk. All the pressure from upper management…all the arguing with the crew members…the deadlines that are impossible to meet…the beer was the only way I could manage my depression.”
“You’ve been depressed this whole time and you didn’t tell any of us?”
“What do you guys care? I’m just another pig who demands nude scenes, which are totally part of the plot, by the way. I don’t give these orders because I want a bunch of brainwashed slaves. I give them because…I want Marble Halls to be the best movie it can possibly be. And when we draw the big money and win the Oscars…I want to share them all with you and the crew. Yes, I know I’m drunk right now…but I mean every word that I say.” There was a teary twinkle in his eye to validate his true feelings.
Riley’s face was etched with pity once again. She wanted to believe these words despite the alcoholic influence. She wanted to believe Devon Rollins had a good side to him. She wanted to believe that his nude scenes were completely necessary. Although she was fighting not to believe those things, she knew that nothing would be accomplished by leaving him on the floor to be sued and fired. Besides, if what he said about depression was true, then he was just as human as the rebellious cast members.
“Come on, Devon. I’m taking you to rehab.” She wrapped his arm around the back of her neck and struggled to lift him to his feet.
“Thank you, Riley. Thank you so much. I won’t let you down….you know, any more than I already have.”
“No problem, Devon. Just do me a favor: don’t barf all over my expensive leather seats.”
Fashionably late, Director Devon Rollins came staggering into the studio with a beer bottle in one hand and a whole lot of nothing in the other. This was what his cinematic masterpiece Marble Halls meant to him. This was what he signed a contract for: so that he could show up whenever he wanted to in ridiculously baggy clothes, disheveled brown hair, stubble on his face, and a beer stench that could be whiffed from space.
Devon stood in front of his director’s chair and hummed while battering his lips up and down with his index finger. In the most offensively ableist voice imaginable, he said, “Why’s…everybody…always picking…on…me?” He took a seat in his chair and fell on the back of his neck, much to the shock and horror of everyone on set.
“Good God almighty,” said Riley with shock in her eyes as she watched Devon struggle to get up and reposition his chair.
He got an A for effort, but then stumbled over the chair again and just laid on the floor defeated and dizzy. Throughout all of his drunken posturing, he still managed to keep his beer bottle in his hand. Another A for effort for an acting job that was surely an acquired taste, just like the alcohol that he was smashed on.
Riley’s lips curled with anger as she kicked off her uncomfortable heels and marched over to her drunken director. She kneeled down and grabbed him by his Star Wars T-shirt before shaking and slapping the shit out of him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! You smell like a goddamn brewery! We’ve been waiting for you since ten-thirty this morning!”
Burping and slurring his words, Devon said, “I can’t do this anymore, Linda” before dunking his head backwards and falling asleep.
Riley growled before grabbing her director’s greasy hair and slamming his head against the floor once just to wake him up. After Devon yelled to indicate he was awake, his actress tore into him some more. “It’s Riley, not Linda, you idiot! Pull yourself together, for god’s sake!”
“Sure thing, Tina!” said Devon with an obnoxious burp and a thumbs up.
Riley shook her head and watched as actors and crew members filed out of the studio, not wanting any more of Devon’s shit. “Are you happy now?” she asked rhetorically. “Look at them! They’re walking out on you and I should probably do the same thing. The only thing keeping me from doing so is a little something called a contract. You know, that thing you sign which legally binds you to work on Marble Halls. This is your project, Devon! You have to do it professionally! Otherwise, we’re screwed!”
Devon took a few moments to catch his breath, which still reeked worse than a frat boy’s asshole after doing a tampon chug. “Divas…you’re all divas…”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nobody will do what I say, Tiffany. I give them one direction and they tell me no like they’ve got a choice. I’m the director. I call the shots! If I have to be a North Carolina dictator, then so be it!” Devon ended his rant with another burp, this time with liquid bubbling up in his throat.
Riley made a disgusted face. “So that’s why you started drinking? Because nobody will do what they’re told? In case you hadn’t noticed, Marble Halls is a team effort. It’s not just a bunch of people doing what they’re told. We have input. We have feelings. We have reservations. For example…do you remember that day I refused to do a nude scene for you?”
“Yeah…I remember…you’re a diva too, Rebecca. It’s part of the script. If the script says take your clothes off, then you take your clothes off.”
Riley folded her arms. “Yeah, the script does say that. The script, by the way, that you wrote from beginning to end, by yourself, with no criticism from others. If anybody has the power to negotiate with his own actors, it’s you. Besides, why does that script even need a nude scene anyways? How does it advance the story? Are you sure you didn’t just put it in there because you don’t know how internet porn works?”
“…Ouch, Ronda. Very, very ouch…”
“Truth hurts, doesn’t it?”
“No, I actually mean ouch. Get your knee off my gut!”
Riley stood up and backed away just in time to watch Devon spit up a fountain of barf, covering his own face and chest in biological sludge. He breathed heavily after that while his lead actress could only look on in pity. She shook her head. “Go home, Devon. You’re drunk. Nobody wants to be around you right now. Just go home and sleep it off. We’ll pick up again tomorrow and hopefully you’ll be sober by then.”
“But…what about that contract thingamabob? Isn’t the executioner producer going to be pissed?” Another burp erupted from Devon’s mouth as did a wad of bile.
“To be honest, I’ll take my chances with the EXECUTIVE producer. I’m sure he’ll give me a way out of my contract after what you did today. Besides, if anybody is getting blamed for all of this, it’s you, Mr. North Carolina dictator!” She picked up her heels and tried to leave the studio.
“Wait!” mumbled Devon as he clutched his actress’s ankle. “Don’t go! I…I…”
“You what? You want me to convince the cast and crew to come back? You want me to convince the executive producer not to blacklist or sue your ass? Let go of my damn ankle, Harvey Weinstein!”
“No, that’s not what I meant!” Devon coughed and got some acidic spittle on Riley’s bare foot. “I mean…I need someone to drive me home.”
“I’ll call you a taxi.”
“No…I want you to be the one who drives me.”
Riley scoffed. “Yeah, like I’m going to let you stink up my nice Volvo with your beer and vomit breath. You can sleep on the floor for all I care.”
“Wait! Wait, please…I’m not looking for a way home…I want you to take me to Paradise Rehab.”
Riley’s expression softened as she kneeled down beside her director. “You want to check into rehab?”
“I do…I really do…listen to me just for a moment. I know I’m blitzed right now, but I still have something to say.” Devon took a while to catch his rotten breath. “This drinking problem has been going on for a long time now. This is really the first time I came to the set drunk. All the pressure from upper management…all the arguing with the crew members…the deadlines that are impossible to meet…the beer was the only way I could manage my depression.”
“You’ve been depressed this whole time and you didn’t tell any of us?”
“What do you guys care? I’m just another pig who demands nude scenes, which are totally part of the plot, by the way. I don’t give these orders because I want a bunch of brainwashed slaves. I give them because…I want Marble Halls to be the best movie it can possibly be. And when we draw the big money and win the Oscars…I want to share them all with you and the crew. Yes, I know I’m drunk right now…but I mean every word that I say.” There was a teary twinkle in his eye to validate his true feelings.
Riley’s face was etched with pity once again. She wanted to believe these words despite the alcoholic influence. She wanted to believe Devon Rollins had a good side to him. She wanted to believe that his nude scenes were completely necessary. Although she was fighting not to believe those things, she knew that nothing would be accomplished by leaving him on the floor to be sued and fired. Besides, if what he said about depression was true, then he was just as human as the rebellious cast members.
“Come on, Devon. I’m taking you to rehab.” She wrapped his arm around the back of her neck and struggled to lift him to his feet.
“Thank you, Riley. Thank you so much. I won’t let you down….you know, any more than I already have.”
“No problem, Devon. Just do me a favor: don’t barf all over my expensive leather seats.”
June 28, 2019
Captain Evil
***CAPTAIN EVIL***
More often than not, when I’m writing a blog entry like this one, I like to joke about how nobody would take a villain named Captain Evil seriously. Who is Captain Evil? He’s my punch line for any villain who is evil for the sake of being evil. No motivations, no ambitions, no personality, just evil, evil, evil. Stomping on kittens, blowing up buildings, shooting up schools, all for the sake of being a massive dick. Do villains like these exist? Of course they do, but they’re mostly in golden age videogames and children’s cartoons.
If Bowser from the Mario Brothers franchise was renamed Captain Evil, nobody would even notice. He too has a one-track mind with not much dimension to him. Kidnapping Princess Peach seems to be his only motivation in life. But what does he do with her? Is he in love with her? Does it turn out at long last that Bowser is a horny incel? And if he’s really this big ass turtle warrior with a spiked shell and fiery breath, how come he has incompetent minions do his bidding for him? I know the early Mario games weren’t intended for deep thinking, but when you’re writing your own story, you really have no choice but to question a lot of these Captain Evil tropes.
But enough about Bowser and his two dimensions (both in terms of sprite graphics and character development). What about an actual person named Captain Evil? Is it really possible to redeem such a character? His name already gives off vibes of being a villain, much like the name Sweet Pea would lead you to believe she’s a protagonist. But what’s in a name? Does it say Captain Evil on his driver’s license? What if it’s just a catchy nickname? What if the guy who uses that name isn’t really evil, but just a really tough son of a bitch?
What if Captain Evil was the name of a military drill instructor who screamed at his privates all the time? Feel free to take that however you want. What if Captain Evil was a mixed-martial artist with an aggressive fighting style? What if Captain Evil was an actual supervillain? Could he still have multiple layers in his character development? Sure, he can! Maybe he doesn’t see being evil as a bad thing. Maybe he admits he’s evil and just doesn’t give a shit. Maybe it’s the world around him who gave him this label and he’s just rolling with it.
But the thing about multi-layered villains as that they don’t actually believe they’re the bad guy in their story. In fact, nobody in this world sees themselves as a villain despite the fact that they might do shitty things from time to time. Everybody has an original point of view, everybody has their own version of right and wrong, and our differences clash often. So even a guy with the name Captain Evil couldn’t see himself as a true villain if he has any chance at being multi-layered.
If you must make Captain Evil sympathetic, do it in a way that doesn’t involve a troubled past that leads nowhere. It’s a tired trope that only matters if executed correctly. If Captain Evil’s parents were killed, it has to lead to somewhere. If Captain Evil was bullied in school, it has to figure into the story somehow. If you’re just piling on problems for the sake of making a villain into a victim, you’re not doing yourself or your character any favors.
I know how ironic it seems to hear me say that since I too struggle with creating sympathetic characters. Then again, these days I struggle with every aspect of the writing game, whether it’s realistic dialogue, showing vs. telling, and of course, creating three-dimensional characters. I’ve been writing since 2002 and I still get it wrong from time to time. It’s almost as though I need someone to hold my hand for me as I cross the street. Although all first drafts by their very nature suck ass, some suck more than others. Some first drafts have an incomplete version of Captain Evil lurking in the background. I know a lot of mine do.
I’m not recommending you actually create a character named Captain Evil, unless of course it’s a challenge you want to undertake. If you like challenges and you like creating chicken salad out of chicken shit, then by all means, go for it. Some people thrive with minimal creative fuel. Some people need more to go by. As for myself, if I ever decide to create my own version of Captain Evil, I’m going to need all the help I can get from beta readers, editors, and Author Tubers with funny and helpful videos (I’m looking at you, Jenna Moreci).
Wait a minute…did I just namedrop Jenna Moreci? In a blog about Captain Evil? Her debut novel “Eve: the Awakening” has a character in it named Captain Ramsey. He was a former Navy Captain who now teaches combat classes at Billington University. He’s tough-minded, he’s hardcore, he’s a no-bullshit kind of guy. He doesn’t accept mediocrity from any of his students, least of all chimeras. Could he accept the nickname Captain Evil even though he’s technically one of the good guys? If we’re going by his no-bullshit attitude alone, then yes, I can see him earning that moniker. And wouldn’t you know it? He’s three-dimensional too!
If Jenna Moreci can successfully create Captain Evil, you can too and so can I! Let’s create an army of Captain Evils together! We’ve got this! No challenge is too big for us! I’m Garrison Kelly! Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight! Anyone who can guess where my new sign-off phrase comes from gets a free cookie. It’ll be a digital cookie, but it’ll have chocolate chips nonetheless. Or if you’re an Oreo guy, you can have that too.
***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***
I’m looking at all the time stamps in which I completed these twenty-four chapters so far and holy shit, are they spaced out. Twenty-four chapters so far with three remaining on deck. I didn’t begin rewriting Beautiful Monster until late November last year. That means it took me over half a year to rewrite a novel that normally takes me two months at most. I don’t like to beat myself up over little shit, but goddamn, that’s got to be the longest I’ve ever spent on a WIP. Then again, I’ve also had quite a few creative and real life projects on my plate in lieu of Beautiful Monster. My Jack and the Beanstalk parody Emilio & Marigold dominated a good portion of my year. So did reading the shortest books in my library and reviewing them all. So did writing short stories and poems for the WSS on Good Reads. I can’t blame it all on psychological torpor, but since Impostor Syndrome is a bitch….Anyways, I wrote chapter twenty-four earlier today, so I’m a happy motherfucker. Windham finally swears! Yay! And I’m not just talking about damn and hell either. He dropped an F-bomb on Shelly like it was an actual nuclear warhead. You want to know what he said to her? “FUCK LOVE!” Speaking of which…
***LYRICS OF THE DAY***
“Binary lie never scratch it on my skin. But you’d loved to see the mark just to fill the blackness in. I know what you are. You’re the last thing I see as my lungs fill. I’ll be goddamned if you didn’t love the sin while you offer up advice just to keep your secrets in. I know what you are. You’re the last breath I breathe as my lungs fill. Fuck love! It only goes away. There’s no goddamn good in this goodbye you made me say. Don’t love ever again. Fuck love! Your promise was in vain. There’s no goddamn good in this goodbye you made me say. Don’t love ever again. Counting all the days that deception was the game. I lived every day just to keep my promises. I can’t hide the scar. Now my last breath is yours and my lungs fill. Didn’t see the snake that was signaling the change. I’ll be damned for my sleep but still I hold you to blame. Still hold you to. Fuck love!”
-All That Remains singing “Fuck Love”-
***POST-SCRIPT***
Do any All That Remains fans out there get the feeling that “Fuck Love” was written about Oli Herbert’s relationship with his wife before he died? I don’t want to peddle conspiracy theories, but…
More often than not, when I’m writing a blog entry like this one, I like to joke about how nobody would take a villain named Captain Evil seriously. Who is Captain Evil? He’s my punch line for any villain who is evil for the sake of being evil. No motivations, no ambitions, no personality, just evil, evil, evil. Stomping on kittens, blowing up buildings, shooting up schools, all for the sake of being a massive dick. Do villains like these exist? Of course they do, but they’re mostly in golden age videogames and children’s cartoons.
If Bowser from the Mario Brothers franchise was renamed Captain Evil, nobody would even notice. He too has a one-track mind with not much dimension to him. Kidnapping Princess Peach seems to be his only motivation in life. But what does he do with her? Is he in love with her? Does it turn out at long last that Bowser is a horny incel? And if he’s really this big ass turtle warrior with a spiked shell and fiery breath, how come he has incompetent minions do his bidding for him? I know the early Mario games weren’t intended for deep thinking, but when you’re writing your own story, you really have no choice but to question a lot of these Captain Evil tropes.
But enough about Bowser and his two dimensions (both in terms of sprite graphics and character development). What about an actual person named Captain Evil? Is it really possible to redeem such a character? His name already gives off vibes of being a villain, much like the name Sweet Pea would lead you to believe she’s a protagonist. But what’s in a name? Does it say Captain Evil on his driver’s license? What if it’s just a catchy nickname? What if the guy who uses that name isn’t really evil, but just a really tough son of a bitch?
What if Captain Evil was the name of a military drill instructor who screamed at his privates all the time? Feel free to take that however you want. What if Captain Evil was a mixed-martial artist with an aggressive fighting style? What if Captain Evil was an actual supervillain? Could he still have multiple layers in his character development? Sure, he can! Maybe he doesn’t see being evil as a bad thing. Maybe he admits he’s evil and just doesn’t give a shit. Maybe it’s the world around him who gave him this label and he’s just rolling with it.
But the thing about multi-layered villains as that they don’t actually believe they’re the bad guy in their story. In fact, nobody in this world sees themselves as a villain despite the fact that they might do shitty things from time to time. Everybody has an original point of view, everybody has their own version of right and wrong, and our differences clash often. So even a guy with the name Captain Evil couldn’t see himself as a true villain if he has any chance at being multi-layered.
If you must make Captain Evil sympathetic, do it in a way that doesn’t involve a troubled past that leads nowhere. It’s a tired trope that only matters if executed correctly. If Captain Evil’s parents were killed, it has to lead to somewhere. If Captain Evil was bullied in school, it has to figure into the story somehow. If you’re just piling on problems for the sake of making a villain into a victim, you’re not doing yourself or your character any favors.
I know how ironic it seems to hear me say that since I too struggle with creating sympathetic characters. Then again, these days I struggle with every aspect of the writing game, whether it’s realistic dialogue, showing vs. telling, and of course, creating three-dimensional characters. I’ve been writing since 2002 and I still get it wrong from time to time. It’s almost as though I need someone to hold my hand for me as I cross the street. Although all first drafts by their very nature suck ass, some suck more than others. Some first drafts have an incomplete version of Captain Evil lurking in the background. I know a lot of mine do.
I’m not recommending you actually create a character named Captain Evil, unless of course it’s a challenge you want to undertake. If you like challenges and you like creating chicken salad out of chicken shit, then by all means, go for it. Some people thrive with minimal creative fuel. Some people need more to go by. As for myself, if I ever decide to create my own version of Captain Evil, I’m going to need all the help I can get from beta readers, editors, and Author Tubers with funny and helpful videos (I’m looking at you, Jenna Moreci).
Wait a minute…did I just namedrop Jenna Moreci? In a blog about Captain Evil? Her debut novel “Eve: the Awakening” has a character in it named Captain Ramsey. He was a former Navy Captain who now teaches combat classes at Billington University. He’s tough-minded, he’s hardcore, he’s a no-bullshit kind of guy. He doesn’t accept mediocrity from any of his students, least of all chimeras. Could he accept the nickname Captain Evil even though he’s technically one of the good guys? If we’re going by his no-bullshit attitude alone, then yes, I can see him earning that moniker. And wouldn’t you know it? He’s three-dimensional too!
If Jenna Moreci can successfully create Captain Evil, you can too and so can I! Let’s create an army of Captain Evils together! We’ve got this! No challenge is too big for us! I’m Garrison Kelly! Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight! Anyone who can guess where my new sign-off phrase comes from gets a free cookie. It’ll be a digital cookie, but it’ll have chocolate chips nonetheless. Or if you’re an Oreo guy, you can have that too.
***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***
I’m looking at all the time stamps in which I completed these twenty-four chapters so far and holy shit, are they spaced out. Twenty-four chapters so far with three remaining on deck. I didn’t begin rewriting Beautiful Monster until late November last year. That means it took me over half a year to rewrite a novel that normally takes me two months at most. I don’t like to beat myself up over little shit, but goddamn, that’s got to be the longest I’ve ever spent on a WIP. Then again, I’ve also had quite a few creative and real life projects on my plate in lieu of Beautiful Monster. My Jack and the Beanstalk parody Emilio & Marigold dominated a good portion of my year. So did reading the shortest books in my library and reviewing them all. So did writing short stories and poems for the WSS on Good Reads. I can’t blame it all on psychological torpor, but since Impostor Syndrome is a bitch….Anyways, I wrote chapter twenty-four earlier today, so I’m a happy motherfucker. Windham finally swears! Yay! And I’m not just talking about damn and hell either. He dropped an F-bomb on Shelly like it was an actual nuclear warhead. You want to know what he said to her? “FUCK LOVE!” Speaking of which…
***LYRICS OF THE DAY***
“Binary lie never scratch it on my skin. But you’d loved to see the mark just to fill the blackness in. I know what you are. You’re the last thing I see as my lungs fill. I’ll be goddamned if you didn’t love the sin while you offer up advice just to keep your secrets in. I know what you are. You’re the last breath I breathe as my lungs fill. Fuck love! It only goes away. There’s no goddamn good in this goodbye you made me say. Don’t love ever again. Fuck love! Your promise was in vain. There’s no goddamn good in this goodbye you made me say. Don’t love ever again. Counting all the days that deception was the game. I lived every day just to keep my promises. I can’t hide the scar. Now my last breath is yours and my lungs fill. Didn’t see the snake that was signaling the change. I’ll be damned for my sleep but still I hold you to blame. Still hold you to. Fuck love!”
-All That Remains singing “Fuck Love”-
***POST-SCRIPT***
Do any All That Remains fans out there get the feeling that “Fuck Love” was written about Oli Herbert’s relationship with his wife before he died? I don’t want to peddle conspiracy theories, but…
June 25, 2019
Someplace Else
VERSE 1
Marble halls and diamond ceilings
Still yearning for those feelings
Still can’t see the beauty in the art
Still can’t find the glue for my heart
Roasted beast and potato salad
Buttered greens, I must have them
A temporary fix for my mental tricks
Back to feeling down in the sunset town
CHORUS
I’d rather be someplace else
In a different kind of hell
I’d rather be anywhere else
I need to look after myself
VERSE 2
Dancing troupe playing with fire
Balancing on the highest of wires
Still can’t find my own salvation
No matter how cultured the nation
Glass of wine that tastes so fine
Still the pain is just mine all mine
There really is no heaven on earth
Fuck every mile for what it’s worth
CHORUS
I’d rather be someplace else
In a different kind of hell
I’d rather be anywhere else
I need to look after myself
BRIDGE
Eating pills like candy
Can really come in handy
Fifty percent of the time
It’s still an uphill climb
Relaxing on the beaches
The lessons that it teaches
Money and energy spent
Just to feel internal death
VERSE 3
So far out in the galaxy
The universe is mad at me
I could make a wish on a star
To be taken away somewhere far
But wherever I go, I bring my pain
The expensive bill is always the same
I need a vacation from my broken heart
When will this new journey start?
CHORUS
I’d rather be someplace else
In a different kind of hell
I’d rather be anywhere else
I need to look after myself
Marble halls and diamond ceilings
Still yearning for those feelings
Still can’t see the beauty in the art
Still can’t find the glue for my heart
Roasted beast and potato salad
Buttered greens, I must have them
A temporary fix for my mental tricks
Back to feeling down in the sunset town
CHORUS
I’d rather be someplace else
In a different kind of hell
I’d rather be anywhere else
I need to look after myself
VERSE 2
Dancing troupe playing with fire
Balancing on the highest of wires
Still can’t find my own salvation
No matter how cultured the nation
Glass of wine that tastes so fine
Still the pain is just mine all mine
There really is no heaven on earth
Fuck every mile for what it’s worth
CHORUS
I’d rather be someplace else
In a different kind of hell
I’d rather be anywhere else
I need to look after myself
BRIDGE
Eating pills like candy
Can really come in handy
Fifty percent of the time
It’s still an uphill climb
Relaxing on the beaches
The lessons that it teaches
Money and energy spent
Just to feel internal death
VERSE 3
So far out in the galaxy
The universe is mad at me
I could make a wish on a star
To be taken away somewhere far
But wherever I go, I bring my pain
The expensive bill is always the same
I need a vacation from my broken heart
When will this new journey start?
CHORUS
I’d rather be someplace else
In a different kind of hell
I’d rather be anywhere else
I need to look after myself
June 24, 2019
The Secret Life of Pets 2
MOVIE TITLE: The Secret Life of Pets 2
DIRECTOR: Chris Renaud
YEAR: 2019
GENRE: 3D Animated Comedy
RATING: PG for comic mischief
GRADE: Pass
A Jack Russell Terrier named Max is having difficulty with being stressed out and easily fearful, especially when his owner has a baby named Liam and the whole family takes a trip to a chaotic farm. A superhero rabbit named Snowball has been charged with the task of rescuing a white tiger named Hu from a sadistic circus owner. While Max is away on vacation, his Pomeranian girlfriend Gidget is tasked with taking care of his favorite squeaky bumblebee toy only for it to wind up in a crazy cat lady’s apartment. These three stories converge near the end and the animals find that they’re willing to do extraordinary things to achieve their individual goals.
Cuteness aside, the guy who put together this movie definitely has experience with animal quirks and it shows in the most obvious ways. Cats chasing after laser pens, dogs acting paranoid when things get too stressful, animals in general defecating in places where the owners will least suspect it, cats knocking things over haphazardly, the list goes on and on. I can confirm all of these things and more since I too am an avid animal lover. Realism will always earn points with the audience, especially if there’s humor attached to it. You don’t have to hee-haw at every scene to think it’s funny. You could be laughing on the inside and walking out of the movie theater with happiness in your heart. Isn’t that what animal movies are all about?
Every story and subplot in this movie was well-executed, but my favorite in terms of character development has to be Max and his journey to overcome the fear of everything. In this respect, he really has no choice since he vacations on a farm with animals who don’t respect him and eventually crosses paths with Sergei, the cruel and vicious circus owner. Courage isn’t the absence of fear, but the action taken in spite of fear. We already know that Snowball the superhero bunny will voluntarily throw himself into danger for the good of the group. Gidget’s fear of being around that many cats dissipates rather quickly. But for Max, it’s a journey that spans the entire movie. Will he face things head on or will he continue itching at something that isn’t there? If not for himself, then he has extra motivation when doing it for baby Liam and his parents.
And now here comes the downer of this review. At the time that I’m writing this, my elderly cat Emilio is slowly but surely passing away due to failing kidneys and a subsequent loss of appetite. Throughout his final days, I’ve been finding solace not only in my creative activities (which includes this review), but also watching The Secret Life of Pets 2. In other words, this movie was literally therapy for me. It reminded me that I did everything I could to save Emilio’s life and when his time eventually comes, he can cross the Rainbow Bridge a happy kitty. He was fourteen years old, but I’ve only owned him for the past six months. Rest well, baby Emilio. You’ll always be my baby despite your advanced age.
If you’re looking for a feel-good movie with plenty of cuteness and humor, you’ll get a lot of satisfaction out of The Secret Life of Pets 2. Even if you haven’t seen the first movie, you’ll still get enjoyment out of the sequel and you won’t be confused by the plot. Based on the success of the sequel, I plan on watching the first movie on Netflix when I get the chance. How does a passing grade sound to you guys?
DIRECTOR: Chris Renaud
YEAR: 2019
GENRE: 3D Animated Comedy
RATING: PG for comic mischief
GRADE: Pass
A Jack Russell Terrier named Max is having difficulty with being stressed out and easily fearful, especially when his owner has a baby named Liam and the whole family takes a trip to a chaotic farm. A superhero rabbit named Snowball has been charged with the task of rescuing a white tiger named Hu from a sadistic circus owner. While Max is away on vacation, his Pomeranian girlfriend Gidget is tasked with taking care of his favorite squeaky bumblebee toy only for it to wind up in a crazy cat lady’s apartment. These three stories converge near the end and the animals find that they’re willing to do extraordinary things to achieve their individual goals.
Cuteness aside, the guy who put together this movie definitely has experience with animal quirks and it shows in the most obvious ways. Cats chasing after laser pens, dogs acting paranoid when things get too stressful, animals in general defecating in places where the owners will least suspect it, cats knocking things over haphazardly, the list goes on and on. I can confirm all of these things and more since I too am an avid animal lover. Realism will always earn points with the audience, especially if there’s humor attached to it. You don’t have to hee-haw at every scene to think it’s funny. You could be laughing on the inside and walking out of the movie theater with happiness in your heart. Isn’t that what animal movies are all about?
Every story and subplot in this movie was well-executed, but my favorite in terms of character development has to be Max and his journey to overcome the fear of everything. In this respect, he really has no choice since he vacations on a farm with animals who don’t respect him and eventually crosses paths with Sergei, the cruel and vicious circus owner. Courage isn’t the absence of fear, but the action taken in spite of fear. We already know that Snowball the superhero bunny will voluntarily throw himself into danger for the good of the group. Gidget’s fear of being around that many cats dissipates rather quickly. But for Max, it’s a journey that spans the entire movie. Will he face things head on or will he continue itching at something that isn’t there? If not for himself, then he has extra motivation when doing it for baby Liam and his parents.
And now here comes the downer of this review. At the time that I’m writing this, my elderly cat Emilio is slowly but surely passing away due to failing kidneys and a subsequent loss of appetite. Throughout his final days, I’ve been finding solace not only in my creative activities (which includes this review), but also watching The Secret Life of Pets 2. In other words, this movie was literally therapy for me. It reminded me that I did everything I could to save Emilio’s life and when his time eventually comes, he can cross the Rainbow Bridge a happy kitty. He was fourteen years old, but I’ve only owned him for the past six months. Rest well, baby Emilio. You’ll always be my baby despite your advanced age.
If you’re looking for a feel-good movie with plenty of cuteness and humor, you’ll get a lot of satisfaction out of The Secret Life of Pets 2. Even if you haven’t seen the first movie, you’ll still get enjoyment out of the sequel and you won’t be confused by the plot. Based on the success of the sequel, I plan on watching the first movie on Netflix when I get the chance. How does a passing grade sound to you guys?
June 20, 2019
The Sadness Olympics
Melanie Chappell’s legs rattled underneath her graduation robe while her mind bombarded her with traumatic images. Every gunshot. Every scream of death. Every splatter of blood. And then the coup-de-grace: one final bullet from the shooter’s gun aimed at his own head. Just like that it was all over, but in Melanie’s numbed out brain, it still went on.
How dare these students and faculty members carry on without her? How dare they leave her behind while she suffered silently? Her grades could get her into any school she wanted, but all the A+’s in the world couldn’t take away pain that would last forever…or at least until she deemed fit to use the undetected metal device in her pocket.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage our valedictorian, Miss Melanie Chappell!”
The numbness wore off as she realized Principal Jeff Nygard’s voice summoning her to the podium. She just then remembered she was at a graduation ceremony. It took too long for the applause to register in her mind. Even the fancy purple and green colors of Principal Nygard’s wizard-like robe blended in with the rest of Melanie’s pitch black world.
High heels aside, Melanie’s legs nearly buckled underneath her as she staggered to the podium. Going back to bed was better than listening to these claps, which sounded too much for her comfort like repetitive gunfire from an AR-15. Instead of cycling through what she was supposed to say, she contemplated what the acronym AR stood for. Asshole Redneck? Aryan Race? Ammosexual Romance? She would have smiled at that last one if she didn’t nearly fall over the podium. Luckily, Principal Nygard’s hands were there to catch her.
“I’m okay,” she unconvincingly whispered to Nygard.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m fine…at least I think so.”
As Principal Nygard took his seat at the back of the stage, the concerned faces of graduating classmates washed over her war-like mind. While gunshots and blood splatters still smashed her mind into fragments, she believed the students’ reactions to be underwhelming for what had just happened a month ago. Had it really been a month? Or was it five seconds ago? Who gives a fuck, it’s never really over, she thought to herself.
Melanie attempted to adjust the microphone to her mouth and did so poorly. She stalled for time with a few halfhearted coughs. When time became a bigger enemy to her than the incel with the gun, she wiped away a singular tear and tried her damnedest to speak.
“Thank you all for coming out here today.” God, that sounded stupid, she thought. “I, uh…I know you all…this isn’t the end of…” Tears splashed around her eyeballs as she struggled to compose herself. Fuck it, I’ll go with it.
“A month ago, something awful happened at our school. I won’t go into the specifics of it since it’s fresh enough in everyone’s minds as it is. Many of our classmates died that day. Their families will never get to see them achieve greatness. Never see them smile again. Never erase those memories from their minds. And…while we can all agree to come together and give each other comfort and strength…not everyone on the internet sees it that way. In fact, there’s a…disgusting hashtag going around social media called The Sadness Olympics. It’s used by trolls who want to mock what we’ve been through, to protect their so-called second amendment rights, to…to…”
Melanie’s words became scrambled as silent tears dropped from her eyes like waterfalls. She could feel Principal Nygard’s hand on her shoulder, a sign of the comfort she spoke of before the most disgusting hashtag on the internet left her mouth. Jeff whispered, “If you need to leave the stage, you have my permission.”
“No! No…I’ve got this, Mr. Nygard. I’ve got this….”
Once he sat back down among all the other wizard-robe-wearing faculty members, rage bubbled from beneath Melanie’s skin like a murky, venomous swamp. Despite the tears rolling down her face, her expression said, “Do not fuck with me!” without those words actually coming off of her tongue.
“To whoever’s circulating that hashtag, I’ve got a message for you,” said Melanie. “You’re every bit as evil as the gunman who came to our school. You may not have pulled the trigger, but make no mistake about it, you’re a murderer!”
“Miss Chappell, please!” begged Principal Nygard.
“Shut up! I told you I’ve got this!” The whole auditorium along with the school Principal fell silent. “The fact that people think our suffering, my suffering is funny makes me sick to my stomach. People like that are the whole reason our country is going to shit.”
As the audience gasped at the swear word, Principal Nygard spoke up once again. “Miss Chappell, that’s enough! Please leave the stage, if not for us, then for your own benefit!”
“I told you I’ve got this, Mr. Nygard, now sit down and shut up! It’s what you do best!” His face grew red with embarrassment while his jaw nearly touched his lap. Melanie’s silver-tongued rhetoric continued. “The only thing that makes me sicker than that hashtag is the fact that it’s being used by some of our own students, many of whom are here today! I see you out there! You think this is comedy? Fine! You can laugh while your guts are spilling out of your body! You can literally laugh your head off as a bullet passes through it!
“And now that I think about it, maybe I shouldn’t be so mad that a shooter came to our school with a AR-15 or whatever the fuck it’s called! Hell, I would have come in with an army tank if I knew where to find one! I’d still be traumatized! I’d still wake up in the middle of the night trying to recover from a shitty dream! But you know what? If it means you hashtag warriors, you Sadness Olympics comedians, will get what’s coming to you, it’d be worth taking Xanax for the rest of my life! I can’t even afford it since it’s a controlled substance, but if Principal Nygard has taught me anything, it’s that it’s all in my head, a head which should be filled with ‘thoughts and prayers’, by the way!”
The students gasped once again as Nygard’s tone grew more serious. “One more outburst from you, Miss Chappell, and I’ll withhold your diploma! No more of this nonsense, you understand me?!”
Suddenly calming down, Melanie turned around to face her Principal with dewy eyes and a neon pink face. “Yeah…yeah, I understand, Mr. Nygard. I really shouldn’t have gotten off track like that. Sorry. I forgot we were supposed to be taking away each other’s pain, not shuffling it around.”
Facing the students again and adjusting the microphone nervously, Melanie’s streak of calmness continued. “Truth is, I don’t really have a solution to your traumas. I don’t even have a solution for my own. I don’t really know if we’re going to have another school shooting or not. I don’t know if we’re going to get more from our government than so-called ‘thoughts and prayers’.
“But one thing I do know…is that I don’t want any part of this. The graduation ceremony, the diploma, the college debt I’ll rack up…it’s all for nothing if my nightmares won’t leave me alone for even a few seconds. It’s all for nothing if internet trolls are just going to keep cracking jokes about us. So you know what I say? Before another horny incel has the chance to gun me down…I’ll strike first.”
In one swift motion, Melanie pulled a pistol out of her pocket and blew her own brains out, sending one final message to her fellow classmates. A message that hope is only an illusion, comedy isn’t fun anymore, and “thoughts and prayers” is just a phrase as empty as Melanie’s exploded skull. She could have sworn she heard screams everywhere around her, but only for a few seconds before her body went completely limp. What’s one more trauma to these people, right?
How dare these students and faculty members carry on without her? How dare they leave her behind while she suffered silently? Her grades could get her into any school she wanted, but all the A+’s in the world couldn’t take away pain that would last forever…or at least until she deemed fit to use the undetected metal device in her pocket.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage our valedictorian, Miss Melanie Chappell!”
The numbness wore off as she realized Principal Jeff Nygard’s voice summoning her to the podium. She just then remembered she was at a graduation ceremony. It took too long for the applause to register in her mind. Even the fancy purple and green colors of Principal Nygard’s wizard-like robe blended in with the rest of Melanie’s pitch black world.
High heels aside, Melanie’s legs nearly buckled underneath her as she staggered to the podium. Going back to bed was better than listening to these claps, which sounded too much for her comfort like repetitive gunfire from an AR-15. Instead of cycling through what she was supposed to say, she contemplated what the acronym AR stood for. Asshole Redneck? Aryan Race? Ammosexual Romance? She would have smiled at that last one if she didn’t nearly fall over the podium. Luckily, Principal Nygard’s hands were there to catch her.
“I’m okay,” she unconvincingly whispered to Nygard.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m fine…at least I think so.”
As Principal Nygard took his seat at the back of the stage, the concerned faces of graduating classmates washed over her war-like mind. While gunshots and blood splatters still smashed her mind into fragments, she believed the students’ reactions to be underwhelming for what had just happened a month ago. Had it really been a month? Or was it five seconds ago? Who gives a fuck, it’s never really over, she thought to herself.
Melanie attempted to adjust the microphone to her mouth and did so poorly. She stalled for time with a few halfhearted coughs. When time became a bigger enemy to her than the incel with the gun, she wiped away a singular tear and tried her damnedest to speak.
“Thank you all for coming out here today.” God, that sounded stupid, she thought. “I, uh…I know you all…this isn’t the end of…” Tears splashed around her eyeballs as she struggled to compose herself. Fuck it, I’ll go with it.
“A month ago, something awful happened at our school. I won’t go into the specifics of it since it’s fresh enough in everyone’s minds as it is. Many of our classmates died that day. Their families will never get to see them achieve greatness. Never see them smile again. Never erase those memories from their minds. And…while we can all agree to come together and give each other comfort and strength…not everyone on the internet sees it that way. In fact, there’s a…disgusting hashtag going around social media called The Sadness Olympics. It’s used by trolls who want to mock what we’ve been through, to protect their so-called second amendment rights, to…to…”
Melanie’s words became scrambled as silent tears dropped from her eyes like waterfalls. She could feel Principal Nygard’s hand on her shoulder, a sign of the comfort she spoke of before the most disgusting hashtag on the internet left her mouth. Jeff whispered, “If you need to leave the stage, you have my permission.”
“No! No…I’ve got this, Mr. Nygard. I’ve got this….”
Once he sat back down among all the other wizard-robe-wearing faculty members, rage bubbled from beneath Melanie’s skin like a murky, venomous swamp. Despite the tears rolling down her face, her expression said, “Do not fuck with me!” without those words actually coming off of her tongue.
“To whoever’s circulating that hashtag, I’ve got a message for you,” said Melanie. “You’re every bit as evil as the gunman who came to our school. You may not have pulled the trigger, but make no mistake about it, you’re a murderer!”
“Miss Chappell, please!” begged Principal Nygard.
“Shut up! I told you I’ve got this!” The whole auditorium along with the school Principal fell silent. “The fact that people think our suffering, my suffering is funny makes me sick to my stomach. People like that are the whole reason our country is going to shit.”
As the audience gasped at the swear word, Principal Nygard spoke up once again. “Miss Chappell, that’s enough! Please leave the stage, if not for us, then for your own benefit!”
“I told you I’ve got this, Mr. Nygard, now sit down and shut up! It’s what you do best!” His face grew red with embarrassment while his jaw nearly touched his lap. Melanie’s silver-tongued rhetoric continued. “The only thing that makes me sicker than that hashtag is the fact that it’s being used by some of our own students, many of whom are here today! I see you out there! You think this is comedy? Fine! You can laugh while your guts are spilling out of your body! You can literally laugh your head off as a bullet passes through it!
“And now that I think about it, maybe I shouldn’t be so mad that a shooter came to our school with a AR-15 or whatever the fuck it’s called! Hell, I would have come in with an army tank if I knew where to find one! I’d still be traumatized! I’d still wake up in the middle of the night trying to recover from a shitty dream! But you know what? If it means you hashtag warriors, you Sadness Olympics comedians, will get what’s coming to you, it’d be worth taking Xanax for the rest of my life! I can’t even afford it since it’s a controlled substance, but if Principal Nygard has taught me anything, it’s that it’s all in my head, a head which should be filled with ‘thoughts and prayers’, by the way!”
The students gasped once again as Nygard’s tone grew more serious. “One more outburst from you, Miss Chappell, and I’ll withhold your diploma! No more of this nonsense, you understand me?!”
Suddenly calming down, Melanie turned around to face her Principal with dewy eyes and a neon pink face. “Yeah…yeah, I understand, Mr. Nygard. I really shouldn’t have gotten off track like that. Sorry. I forgot we were supposed to be taking away each other’s pain, not shuffling it around.”
Facing the students again and adjusting the microphone nervously, Melanie’s streak of calmness continued. “Truth is, I don’t really have a solution to your traumas. I don’t even have a solution for my own. I don’t really know if we’re going to have another school shooting or not. I don’t know if we’re going to get more from our government than so-called ‘thoughts and prayers’.
“But one thing I do know…is that I don’t want any part of this. The graduation ceremony, the diploma, the college debt I’ll rack up…it’s all for nothing if my nightmares won’t leave me alone for even a few seconds. It’s all for nothing if internet trolls are just going to keep cracking jokes about us. So you know what I say? Before another horny incel has the chance to gun me down…I’ll strike first.”
In one swift motion, Melanie pulled a pistol out of her pocket and blew her own brains out, sending one final message to her fellow classmates. A message that hope is only an illusion, comedy isn’t fun anymore, and “thoughts and prayers” is just a phrase as empty as Melanie’s exploded skull. She could have sworn she heard screams everywhere around her, but only for a few seconds before her body went completely limp. What’s one more trauma to these people, right?
June 19, 2019
Anything Can Be a D&D Campaign
***ANYTHING CAN BE A D&D CAMPAIGN***
Yes, you read that title right. Anything, and I do mean anything, can become a D&D campaign no matter how ordinary or extraordinary the inspiration is. D&D campaigns are just stories you tell to a group of friends. Novels, on the other hand, are D&D campaigns that you play by yourself. Whether you’re playing with yourself or you’re doing it in a big group, there’s a story deep within you. Deep within the cock, cock, cockles of your heart. If you’ve got a mind for fantasy, you’ve got a D&D campaign.
Let’s take something ordinary for our first example. Let’s say you’re going to the supermarket for some groceries. Nothing special, just some eggs, milk, cheese, bread, lunch meat, god knows what else. You can take this ordinary creative fuel and make it extraordinary in a heartbeat. Perhaps the supermarket is being robbed by a gang of orcish thugs. Perhaps the lunch meat you purchased came from a slain dragon. Perhaps the eggs have snake fetuses inside. All you have to do is take one element of this simple story and twist it into a fantasy setting with some hot action for the characters. Congratulations, you’ve got a D&D story! A trip to the supermarket will now be a glorious adventure.
Now let’s up the ante a little bit with a computer game of Solitaire. Still an ordinary situation, but now it’s in the confines of an extraordinary piece of machinery. Can we make a D&D campaign out of a game of solitaire? Abso-fucking-lutely! The goal of the game is to get every card from the aces to the kings situated in four cells. What if those kings, queens, jacks, and jokers were real people? What if they were being locked in real cells by the joker and held hostage? What will the joker do with his newfound hostages? Ransom them? Beat them? Torture them? Fuck them? Is there any chance at all of saving the royal hostages? Would the two of diamonds or three of clubs even want to save them? Would a four of spades be able to use a shovel as a weapon, like the spade suggests? So many possibilities. The world is yours to unlock and unravel!
And once again, we’ll up the ante with something a little more glorious than a trip to the supermarket or a game of solitaire. Let’s say you want to make a D&D campaign out of your old Final Fight SNES cartridge. You certainly can do that! For those not old enough to remember, Final Fight is a videogame where you take a beefy brawler of your choice and beat the living hell out of the Mad Gear Gang until they give back their pretty young hostage. The creative fuel from such a game is endless. Mike Haggar, a muscular professional wrestler in the game, could be a dragon-born barbarian that breaths fire and chops shit down with battleaxes. Guy, a skinny little ninja, could be an elf with magical abilities to make up for his lack of physical strength. Cody Travers? He could wear gauntlets as he punches through armies of half-orcs on his way to save his girlfriend Jessica Haggar. The possibilities are literally endless!
Of course, the creative alterations you make to any source of creative fuel don’t have to be purely cosmetic, nor should they be. Badass non-human characters are nice, but without a concrete story, they’ve got no reason for doing the things they do and they’ve got no reason to develop beyond their archetypes. So how do you take a game of Vegas Stakes for the SNES and develop it into a, pardon the pun, high stakes situation? For those who don’t know, Vegas Stakes is basically a gambling game where the object is to win…(lifts my pinky to my face) one million dollars! There could be many wrinkles you could add to a seemingly shallow storyline. What if you cheated to win that money and now have to face the wrath of beefy bouncers? What if you spent your winnings on prostitutes and got one of them pregnant? What if you lost all of your money and have to do some unsavory things to get it back? And of course, there’d be dragons flying around everyone and half-orcs losing their shit every which way. It just wouldn’t be a D&D campaign without those things happening every six seconds.
Do I have your attention now? You don’t have to look very hard to find a multi-layered story in the most ordinary or extraordinary things. When you build your story, make sure the characters are the ones driving it. We like character-driven stories, because without the characters, there’s nothing to develop and without anything to develop and cultivate, your story is boring as shit. There are authors out there who still get this wrong. It’s forgivable during the first draft stages, but once your book is out there on the market, you’re fresh out of excuses. Find your story. Build your characters. Make those two things interact with each other. Find friends who are willing to play your new D&D campaign. But if you don’t have friends, write the novel yourself. The world is yours. What you do with it is up to you. I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!
Holy shit! I just found another source of creative fuel, this time from my sign off phrase, which is stolen from a Three Days Grace song. Climbing mountains even when you’re dying? Why are you climbing the mountain? What’s on the top of it that’s so special? What obstacles will test your mettle? Are there dragons, barbarians, and wizards who want that special prize as much as you do? Do I still have your attention, motherfuckers?
***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***
Speaking of three-dimensional stories, this new edition of Beautiful Monster is drawing to a close with just three more chapters and an epilogue to write. So close, yet so far away! I can do this! All I have to do is guide Windham, Llewellyn, and Tarja on a mission to pick off poisoned mercenaries and soldiers one by one. Seems easy since they’re all choking on blight fumes, right? Well, not exactly. There are still three people on the battlefield who arrived late and therefore didn’t breathe in an ass-load of toxic smoke. Any guesses as to who these three are? I’m waiting!
***JOKE OF THE DAY***
Q: What do you call an ordinary Shrek character?
A: Medi-ogre.
***POST-SCRIPT***
What’s this? I have another piece of creative fuel to work with? A Shrek-based D&D campaign? Hell yeah!
Yes, you read that title right. Anything, and I do mean anything, can become a D&D campaign no matter how ordinary or extraordinary the inspiration is. D&D campaigns are just stories you tell to a group of friends. Novels, on the other hand, are D&D campaigns that you play by yourself. Whether you’re playing with yourself or you’re doing it in a big group, there’s a story deep within you. Deep within the cock, cock, cockles of your heart. If you’ve got a mind for fantasy, you’ve got a D&D campaign.
Let’s take something ordinary for our first example. Let’s say you’re going to the supermarket for some groceries. Nothing special, just some eggs, milk, cheese, bread, lunch meat, god knows what else. You can take this ordinary creative fuel and make it extraordinary in a heartbeat. Perhaps the supermarket is being robbed by a gang of orcish thugs. Perhaps the lunch meat you purchased came from a slain dragon. Perhaps the eggs have snake fetuses inside. All you have to do is take one element of this simple story and twist it into a fantasy setting with some hot action for the characters. Congratulations, you’ve got a D&D story! A trip to the supermarket will now be a glorious adventure.
Now let’s up the ante a little bit with a computer game of Solitaire. Still an ordinary situation, but now it’s in the confines of an extraordinary piece of machinery. Can we make a D&D campaign out of a game of solitaire? Abso-fucking-lutely! The goal of the game is to get every card from the aces to the kings situated in four cells. What if those kings, queens, jacks, and jokers were real people? What if they were being locked in real cells by the joker and held hostage? What will the joker do with his newfound hostages? Ransom them? Beat them? Torture them? Fuck them? Is there any chance at all of saving the royal hostages? Would the two of diamonds or three of clubs even want to save them? Would a four of spades be able to use a shovel as a weapon, like the spade suggests? So many possibilities. The world is yours to unlock and unravel!
And once again, we’ll up the ante with something a little more glorious than a trip to the supermarket or a game of solitaire. Let’s say you want to make a D&D campaign out of your old Final Fight SNES cartridge. You certainly can do that! For those not old enough to remember, Final Fight is a videogame where you take a beefy brawler of your choice and beat the living hell out of the Mad Gear Gang until they give back their pretty young hostage. The creative fuel from such a game is endless. Mike Haggar, a muscular professional wrestler in the game, could be a dragon-born barbarian that breaths fire and chops shit down with battleaxes. Guy, a skinny little ninja, could be an elf with magical abilities to make up for his lack of physical strength. Cody Travers? He could wear gauntlets as he punches through armies of half-orcs on his way to save his girlfriend Jessica Haggar. The possibilities are literally endless!
Of course, the creative alterations you make to any source of creative fuel don’t have to be purely cosmetic, nor should they be. Badass non-human characters are nice, but without a concrete story, they’ve got no reason for doing the things they do and they’ve got no reason to develop beyond their archetypes. So how do you take a game of Vegas Stakes for the SNES and develop it into a, pardon the pun, high stakes situation? For those who don’t know, Vegas Stakes is basically a gambling game where the object is to win…(lifts my pinky to my face) one million dollars! There could be many wrinkles you could add to a seemingly shallow storyline. What if you cheated to win that money and now have to face the wrath of beefy bouncers? What if you spent your winnings on prostitutes and got one of them pregnant? What if you lost all of your money and have to do some unsavory things to get it back? And of course, there’d be dragons flying around everyone and half-orcs losing their shit every which way. It just wouldn’t be a D&D campaign without those things happening every six seconds.
Do I have your attention now? You don’t have to look very hard to find a multi-layered story in the most ordinary or extraordinary things. When you build your story, make sure the characters are the ones driving it. We like character-driven stories, because without the characters, there’s nothing to develop and without anything to develop and cultivate, your story is boring as shit. There are authors out there who still get this wrong. It’s forgivable during the first draft stages, but once your book is out there on the market, you’re fresh out of excuses. Find your story. Build your characters. Make those two things interact with each other. Find friends who are willing to play your new D&D campaign. But if you don’t have friends, write the novel yourself. The world is yours. What you do with it is up to you. I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!
Holy shit! I just found another source of creative fuel, this time from my sign off phrase, which is stolen from a Three Days Grace song. Climbing mountains even when you’re dying? Why are you climbing the mountain? What’s on the top of it that’s so special? What obstacles will test your mettle? Are there dragons, barbarians, and wizards who want that special prize as much as you do? Do I still have your attention, motherfuckers?
***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***
Speaking of three-dimensional stories, this new edition of Beautiful Monster is drawing to a close with just three more chapters and an epilogue to write. So close, yet so far away! I can do this! All I have to do is guide Windham, Llewellyn, and Tarja on a mission to pick off poisoned mercenaries and soldiers one by one. Seems easy since they’re all choking on blight fumes, right? Well, not exactly. There are still three people on the battlefield who arrived late and therefore didn’t breathe in an ass-load of toxic smoke. Any guesses as to who these three are? I’m waiting!
***JOKE OF THE DAY***
Q: What do you call an ordinary Shrek character?
A: Medi-ogre.
***POST-SCRIPT***
What’s this? I have another piece of creative fuel to work with? A Shrek-based D&D campaign? Hell yeah!
June 18, 2019
Raised By Television
VERSE 1
How many slurs are you allowed to use?
How many drugs are you allowed to abuse?
How many sheep are you allowed to confuse?
How many lives are you allowed to lose?
You watch the box, but never question it
You have a dispute, but never settle it
You never pick apart the stories you hear
Cave in to manufactured crises and fears
CHORUS
Raised by television
Rattling your vision
It’s now your mission
To widen the division
VERSE 2
Fantasy, reality, what’s the difference?
Fucked up adult, why the bitterness?
Nostalgic for your lost brain cells
And your depleted creative wells
Nothing wrong with a good story
Nothing wrong with living the glory
As long as you think for yourself
And not let your life spiral to hell
CHORUS
Raised by television
Rattling your vision
It’s now your mission
To widen the division
BRIDGE
Question everything
The lyrics you sing
The shows you watch
The life you botch
VERSE 3
Pick up a book and learn how to hook
The audience in for more than a look
Go outside and play Seek and Hide
Jump on the rollercoaster, go for a ride
Swim in a lake for as long as you take
Drive around town to musical sounds
When you go back to the glowing box
Keep your wits, be crazy like a fox
CHORUS
Raised by television
Rattling your vision
It’s now your mission
To widen the division
How many slurs are you allowed to use?
How many drugs are you allowed to abuse?
How many sheep are you allowed to confuse?
How many lives are you allowed to lose?
You watch the box, but never question it
You have a dispute, but never settle it
You never pick apart the stories you hear
Cave in to manufactured crises and fears
CHORUS
Raised by television
Rattling your vision
It’s now your mission
To widen the division
VERSE 2
Fantasy, reality, what’s the difference?
Fucked up adult, why the bitterness?
Nostalgic for your lost brain cells
And your depleted creative wells
Nothing wrong with a good story
Nothing wrong with living the glory
As long as you think for yourself
And not let your life spiral to hell
CHORUS
Raised by television
Rattling your vision
It’s now your mission
To widen the division
BRIDGE
Question everything
The lyrics you sing
The shows you watch
The life you botch
VERSE 3
Pick up a book and learn how to hook
The audience in for more than a look
Go outside and play Seek and Hide
Jump on the rollercoaster, go for a ride
Swim in a lake for as long as you take
Drive around town to musical sounds
When you go back to the glowing box
Keep your wits, be crazy like a fox
CHORUS
Raised by television
Rattling your vision
It’s now your mission
To widen the division
June 15, 2019
Dark Phoenix
MOVIE TITLE: Dark Phoenix
DIRECTOR: Simon Kinberg
YEAR: 2019
GENRE: Superhero Adventure
RATING: PG-13 for violence and language
GRADE: Pass
While the X-Men are performing a space mission to rescue astronauts from a spinning shuttle, telepath Jean Grey absorbs a fiery supernova into her body and becomes even more powerful than she already is. Before she has the chance to celebrate with her fellow mutants, her powers spin out of control and cost loved ones their lives. With the human world and some of her own X-Men turning against her, Jean struggles to find acceptance despite her godlike and lethal abilities. While she’s figuring herself out, an alien race known as the D’Bari want to harvest her powers so that they can rebuild the world they lost due to the supernova. Not a friend in the world can save her now.
I’ve accepted the fact that I’m part of the minority that actually liked this movie. I know I’m on an island when it comes to Jean Grey’s character development and her extreme case of Impostor Syndrome. People are dying all around her and she (sometimes rightfully) believes it’s her own fault. She wants to do good things in a world that has a fragile relationship with mutants, but she hasn’t mastered her newfound powers yet and she can’t help herself when she gets explosive. Imagine having your own low self-esteem confirmed by pretty much everyone around you and there’s no evidence left to prove yourself wrong. That hurts. It hurts so much that normal people who watch this movie can relate to it (sans murder). Does someone out in the world still love Jean Grey? Does someone out in the world still love us all? I guess we’ll never know until the dead end.
An even more imperfect character is Professor Charles Xavier, owner of the mutant school that houses the X-Men. Comic book fans know him as the super intelligent, ultra wise leader who can solve any problem with his wits. But even he makes the gravest mistakes sometimes and he becomes just as much to blame as Jean Grey. Using the X-Men as a superhero taskforce was his idea to earn goodwill with the human race. Some mutants don’t want their lives risked in such a way and I can’t say I blame them. Yet I continued to feel heartbroken during Charles’s most downtrodden moments. I wanted him to redeem himself and show Jean Grey that someone out there still cares for her. Excellent performance by James McAvoy, the actor who played Charles Xavier.
Jean Grey and Charles Xavier aren’t the only characters in this movie that have valid points. All of the characters do from Beast to Storm to Magneto himself. If I remember correctly, this was one of the director’s goals for the film: everybody is right and a healthy debate among the audience is encouraged. This is the dictionary definition of a 3D character. Not even the villains will admit that they’re wrong. You’ll never see an X-Men character named Captain Evil or Kitten Stomper. You know why? Because just like in real life, we all like to believe that we’re the good guys despite our flaws.
I’m plainly aware of how much hate this film has gotten since its release. It holds a below thirty percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes. It’s even been called the worst movie of the X-Men franchise by many critics. But I don’t have a one-way ticket aboard the hate train. I came into the movie theater wanting to be entertained and that’s exactly what happened. I was so entertained that I considered giving this movie an Extra Credit grade during the ride home. But the reason it earned only a passing grade was because the social impact couldn’t compare to other great superhero movies like Black Panther and Wonder Woman. Otherwise, great job, Marvel!
DIRECTOR: Simon Kinberg
YEAR: 2019
GENRE: Superhero Adventure
RATING: PG-13 for violence and language
GRADE: Pass
While the X-Men are performing a space mission to rescue astronauts from a spinning shuttle, telepath Jean Grey absorbs a fiery supernova into her body and becomes even more powerful than she already is. Before she has the chance to celebrate with her fellow mutants, her powers spin out of control and cost loved ones their lives. With the human world and some of her own X-Men turning against her, Jean struggles to find acceptance despite her godlike and lethal abilities. While she’s figuring herself out, an alien race known as the D’Bari want to harvest her powers so that they can rebuild the world they lost due to the supernova. Not a friend in the world can save her now.
I’ve accepted the fact that I’m part of the minority that actually liked this movie. I know I’m on an island when it comes to Jean Grey’s character development and her extreme case of Impostor Syndrome. People are dying all around her and she (sometimes rightfully) believes it’s her own fault. She wants to do good things in a world that has a fragile relationship with mutants, but she hasn’t mastered her newfound powers yet and she can’t help herself when she gets explosive. Imagine having your own low self-esteem confirmed by pretty much everyone around you and there’s no evidence left to prove yourself wrong. That hurts. It hurts so much that normal people who watch this movie can relate to it (sans murder). Does someone out in the world still love Jean Grey? Does someone out in the world still love us all? I guess we’ll never know until the dead end.
An even more imperfect character is Professor Charles Xavier, owner of the mutant school that houses the X-Men. Comic book fans know him as the super intelligent, ultra wise leader who can solve any problem with his wits. But even he makes the gravest mistakes sometimes and he becomes just as much to blame as Jean Grey. Using the X-Men as a superhero taskforce was his idea to earn goodwill with the human race. Some mutants don’t want their lives risked in such a way and I can’t say I blame them. Yet I continued to feel heartbroken during Charles’s most downtrodden moments. I wanted him to redeem himself and show Jean Grey that someone out there still cares for her. Excellent performance by James McAvoy, the actor who played Charles Xavier.
Jean Grey and Charles Xavier aren’t the only characters in this movie that have valid points. All of the characters do from Beast to Storm to Magneto himself. If I remember correctly, this was one of the director’s goals for the film: everybody is right and a healthy debate among the audience is encouraged. This is the dictionary definition of a 3D character. Not even the villains will admit that they’re wrong. You’ll never see an X-Men character named Captain Evil or Kitten Stomper. You know why? Because just like in real life, we all like to believe that we’re the good guys despite our flaws.
I’m plainly aware of how much hate this film has gotten since its release. It holds a below thirty percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes. It’s even been called the worst movie of the X-Men franchise by many critics. But I don’t have a one-way ticket aboard the hate train. I came into the movie theater wanting to be entertained and that’s exactly what happened. I was so entertained that I considered giving this movie an Extra Credit grade during the ride home. But the reason it earned only a passing grade was because the social impact couldn’t compare to other great superhero movies like Black Panther and Wonder Woman. Otherwise, great job, Marvel!
