I realized today that I'm a writer that hardly reads at all. Thats really sad because I used to read everything I could get my hands on. I decided to remedy that today by going to the both the bookstore and the library. To my surprise I didn't get any of the fiction I intended to, I ended up getting a bunch of non-fiction science books.
Bookstore:
A Brief History of Time (10th Anniversary Edition) by Stephen Hawking
Library:
Billions and Billions, Thoughts on Life and Death at the Brink of the Millennium by Carl Sagan
The Reluctant Mr. Darwin by David Quammen
I couldn't find Lovecraft anywhere. Not surprising, but I also couldn't find a copy of Darwin's Origin of the Species. Is that a banned book you think? Oh well, I ordered it from Amazon, should be interesting. I'll have to read it in public to see if anyone says anything.
Also, I want to get into Charles Dickens as I was never able to before. I think having him shoved down my throat in high school pretty much ruined any joy I would get out of reading his work. Does anybody like Dickens? What book should I start with?
I suppose I should end with a list of my favorite books ever. Here's a few that I couldn't put down:
Richard Adams:
Watership Down
The Plague Dogs
Stephen King:
It
The Stand
The whole Dark Tower series
Carrie
The Shining
Harper Lee - To Kill a Mockingbird (absolutely everyone should read this book but not in school. Read it on your own, its so much better. Then watch the movie).
Kevin Murphy - A Year at the Movies
Bram Stoker - Dracula (boy did I have some weird dreams while I read this one!)
H.G. Wells:
The Island of Dr. Moreau
The Time Machine
The Invisible Man
Anything and everything by Ray Bradbury.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Oh My Sweet Lord....
I have seen many many many horror movies. Some are scary, some are lame, some are down right terrifying. I have seen few that match up to the sheer terror of this...this thing. That psycho killer mask is supposed to send electric shocks to your face to rejuvenate your skin or some such garbage but look at it! I want to buy it just to freak people out. Can you imagine waking up and seeing someone standing over you with that on? And that song! It just adds to the freaky weirdness of the whole thing. I can imagine it playing while Micheal Myers, in his spiffy new rejuvenation mask, stabs people to death in slow motion. I...I am rendered speechless. When I start making horror movies I hope mine will turn out to be half that subliminally terrifying. David Lynch eat your heart out.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
CYOF: Oh Jeez
The only one that voted last time was Spumkin and he picked that Betsy Ann be Horny. Oh Jeebus, here we go...
You cover your head with your arms and expect the screaming and beatings and cops dragging you off to jail any second but nothing happens. After a bit you uncover your head and stare in disbelief. Instead of kicking you in the face, Betsy Ann is smiling.
"Oh you silly silly boy," she says and pulls you out of the closet by your arm. "Wasn't that uncomfortable in there? Sit here instead." She shoves you onto the bed and laughs. Is this really happening? You want to pinch yourself to make sure but then you'd probably wake up in Geometry class with everyone laughing at the drool all over your desk.
Still clutching her towel around her body she climbs on top of you. "You want me don't you?" She says and rubs her hand on your crotch. She laughs. "I can tell you do."
You try to form some sort of answer, to say anything but she shes got her hand down your pants now and you can hardly breathe.
Then she lets her towel drop and leans over you to kiss your mouth but she stops and sits up. Golly, her boobs are fantastic. You reach out to grab them but she catches your hands.
"Here's the deal big boy. You can do anything to me you want. anything at all, but there's one tiny little simple thing you've got to do for me."
You gasp out "What? What is it, I'll do anything!"
"I want you..." She runs her hand down the front of your jeans again.
"To..." Blue balls hits you like a hammer to the groin and you fall on the ground in a heap, groaning.
"kill my step dad."
You stop and through a blinding wall of pain look up a her.
"Wa--what?" You stammer out.
She puts her hands on her hips and looks at you like a little child.
"If you even want a hand job, I want that prick lying in a pool of his own blood as soon as possible! I don't care how you do it, just do it and do it quick."
She grabs her towel and wraps it around herself again.
"I'll be in my room. And you better not come in till his soul is burning in Hell."
Then she walks out and shuts the door.
Cripes Scoob! What are you going to do now? You've never even seen a girl naked before today and now the greatest moment of your life is so close! Do you dare do such a terrible thing for sex? Do you? And how will you do it if you do?
You cover your head with your arms and expect the screaming and beatings and cops dragging you off to jail any second but nothing happens. After a bit you uncover your head and stare in disbelief. Instead of kicking you in the face, Betsy Ann is smiling.
"Oh you silly silly boy," she says and pulls you out of the closet by your arm. "Wasn't that uncomfortable in there? Sit here instead." She shoves you onto the bed and laughs. Is this really happening? You want to pinch yourself to make sure but then you'd probably wake up in Geometry class with everyone laughing at the drool all over your desk.
Still clutching her towel around her body she climbs on top of you. "You want me don't you?" She says and rubs her hand on your crotch. She laughs. "I can tell you do."
You try to form some sort of answer, to say anything but she shes got her hand down your pants now and you can hardly breathe.
Then she lets her towel drop and leans over you to kiss your mouth but she stops and sits up. Golly, her boobs are fantastic. You reach out to grab them but she catches your hands.
"Here's the deal big boy. You can do anything to me you want. anything at all, but there's one tiny little simple thing you've got to do for me."
You gasp out "What? What is it, I'll do anything!"
"I want you..." She runs her hand down the front of your jeans again.
"To..." Blue balls hits you like a hammer to the groin and you fall on the ground in a heap, groaning.
"kill my step dad."
You stop and through a blinding wall of pain look up a her.
"Wa--what?" You stammer out.
She puts her hands on her hips and looks at you like a little child.
"If you even want a hand job, I want that prick lying in a pool of his own blood as soon as possible! I don't care how you do it, just do it and do it quick."
She grabs her towel and wraps it around herself again.
"I'll be in my room. And you better not come in till his soul is burning in Hell."
Then she walks out and shuts the door.
Cripes Scoob! What are you going to do now? You've never even seen a girl naked before today and now the greatest moment of your life is so close! Do you dare do such a terrible thing for sex? Do you? And how will you do it if you do?
Just had to try it...
I found out about this on the Onion AV Club and I just had to do it:
"New meme: here's a totally random way to make your new random band's new random album cover. Post one! Go to “Wikipedia.” Hit “random” and the first article you get is the name of your band. Then go to “Random Quotations” and the last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album. Then, go to Flickr and click on “Explore the Last Seven Days” and the third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover."
My first attempt:
Band Name: HMNZS Manawanui
Album Title: Laughter is an instant vacation
(Oh and by the way, if you can't save an image to edit it, just right click and hit block image. It will block out the image overlay thats not letting you save.)
Putting it all together with a random picture from Flickr (using my feeble MS Paint Skillz) I got this:
(Click for full size)
Seems to me that HMNZS Manawanui is some kind of Japanese band. Possibly punk? That album cover is too lame to be anything but subversive. Or maybe its some soothing elevator muzak crap. Yeah, I'll go with that one.
That was fun! I think I'll try it again. Here's what I came up with the second time
Band Name: Bantam
Album Title: quite different from being rash
Album cover looks like:
Seems like an 80s cheese rock band but the girl would probably be nakeder. I like how this one turned out.
Oh man, this is too much fun. I'll do one more and then I swear I'll get to CYOF.
Band name: Nail plate
Album Title: become famous without ability
Cover looks like:
Thats a heavy metal cover for sure, lulling you in with its simple and soothing art and then blasting your ears when you put the record on. No band named Nail Plate could be anything but death and destruction and knobs turned up to 11.
You guys gotta do this too!
"New meme: here's a totally random way to make your new random band's new random album cover. Post one! Go to “Wikipedia.” Hit “random” and the first article you get is the name of your band. Then go to “Random Quotations” and the last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album. Then, go to Flickr and click on “Explore the Last Seven Days” and the third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover."
My first attempt:
Band Name: HMNZS Manawanui
Album Title: Laughter is an instant vacation
(Oh and by the way, if you can't save an image to edit it, just right click and hit block image. It will block out the image overlay thats not letting you save.)
Putting it all together with a random picture from Flickr (using my feeble MS Paint Skillz) I got this:
(Click for full size)
Seems to me that HMNZS Manawanui is some kind of Japanese band. Possibly punk? That album cover is too lame to be anything but subversive. Or maybe its some soothing elevator muzak crap. Yeah, I'll go with that one.
That was fun! I think I'll try it again. Here's what I came up with the second time
Band Name: Bantam
Album Title: quite different from being rash
Album cover looks like:
Seems like an 80s cheese rock band but the girl would probably be nakeder. I like how this one turned out.
Oh man, this is too much fun. I'll do one more and then I swear I'll get to CYOF.
Band name: Nail plate
Album Title: become famous without ability
Cover looks like:
Thats a heavy metal cover for sure, lulling you in with its simple and soothing art and then blasting your ears when you put the record on. No band named Nail Plate could be anything but death and destruction and knobs turned up to 11.
You guys gotta do this too!
Quick Questions
What is this Twitter thing all the kids are doing? Would it be worth it to sign up? I get the general idea I guess but it just seems like Facebook with nothing but the status update bar. Am I wrong? I'm so out of touch...
Choose Your Own Fate coming tonight!
Choose Your Own Fate coming tonight!
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Random Word Experiment #2
Oh random word generator, I love you so. You know what word it gave me tonight? Horror! I needed a word for inspiration and it gave me horror. Kick ass. Hmmm....thats really broad though. Lets hit refresh and try to get a second word.
Unstable! This is getting interesting. Lets try it a third time.
Employment. Sweet, lets see what kind of stuff we can make out of this.
I was working late when I killed my boss. It was just us handling the "up late" shift at Chicken Shack, which wasn't a shack at all, I don't know why it was called that. My job that night was to cut the chicken up for the Healthy chicken Crunch Wrap menu special item bullshit that were popular because of an annoying jingle they put in their ads. Just about everyone that came in ordered one. So there I was cutting up chicken to make these damn things. The thing is there's a certain way they have to be cut. Everything has to be done by the regulations in Chicken Shack Inc.'s company hand book that they give you when you get hired. I dropped the damn thing on my foot one time. That shit hurt let me tell you.
But anyways, the chicken for the Healthy Chicken Crunch Wrap menu special item has to be cut diagonally in exact equal portions. Every chicken patty that comes frozen in large packs to Chicken Shack kitchens across the world looks exactly the same since its really ground up chicken parts mashed into a spherical shape by a machine. There's even lines burned into it where you have to cut. This is all explained in the hand book by the way, you should really track down a copy on Ebay, very interesting reading. Or to hurl through your neighbors window.
That night my boss, having nothing else to do, contented himself with being a prick. He always was a prick but at least when other people were on shift he could spread it around. And at least when Rachael was there he'd hit on her and the blowjobs she gave him for extra money kept him away for a little bit. That night she was home with her sick kid. At least thats what she said. I think she had some personal business to take care of at the Ballard club downtown. Thats what I think.
Alright, I keep going off on tangents. The boss was looking over my shoulder the whole time I was trying to cut and he telling me I was doing it wrong. And he kept jabbing me in the shoulder. I don't like to be touched and I really don't like to be jabbed with a long bony finger thats been God knows where. So...uh...yeah, I got pissed off and I stabbed him in the eye. Thats about it. It wasn't an accident or anything if thats what you're wondering. I got pissed off and took the fucker's eye out.
The bit with the cooler? I didn't do that. Well, you're not going to believe me if I tell you. Alright. After I stabbed his eye out he was fumblin' around screamin' knockin' pots off the racks, making a damn mess in the kitchen. The reg book would have something to say about that let me tell you, ha ha. You probably saw his hand, he put it in the deep friar. It wasn't in very long but he burnt the shit out of it. Jesus, he was screamin' loud. Then the fucking chicken attacked him. I swear on my mother's grave! He kept dancing around, screaming, making a mess, so I opened the cooler and shoved him in. Then the chicken patties jumped on him, fucking covered up his face so he couldn't breath. You found one down his throat didn't you? Yeah, it crawled in there. Weirdest damn thing I've ever seen and I've seen some weird shit. What's that? Nah, I wasn't on drugs. Not that night anyways.
Yeah yeah, thats my story. Back to my cell right? I hear we're having fried chicken for lunch, you better watch your back officer, ah ha ha!
That was weak, I'm sorry guys. Maybe it could be part of a larger story though, someday.
Unstable! This is getting interesting. Lets try it a third time.
Employment. Sweet, lets see what kind of stuff we can make out of this.
I was working late when I killed my boss. It was just us handling the "up late" shift at Chicken Shack, which wasn't a shack at all, I don't know why it was called that. My job that night was to cut the chicken up for the Healthy chicken Crunch Wrap menu special item bullshit that were popular because of an annoying jingle they put in their ads. Just about everyone that came in ordered one. So there I was cutting up chicken to make these damn things. The thing is there's a certain way they have to be cut. Everything has to be done by the regulations in Chicken Shack Inc.'s company hand book that they give you when you get hired. I dropped the damn thing on my foot one time. That shit hurt let me tell you.
But anyways, the chicken for the Healthy Chicken Crunch Wrap menu special item has to be cut diagonally in exact equal portions. Every chicken patty that comes frozen in large packs to Chicken Shack kitchens across the world looks exactly the same since its really ground up chicken parts mashed into a spherical shape by a machine. There's even lines burned into it where you have to cut. This is all explained in the hand book by the way, you should really track down a copy on Ebay, very interesting reading. Or to hurl through your neighbors window.
That night my boss, having nothing else to do, contented himself with being a prick. He always was a prick but at least when other people were on shift he could spread it around. And at least when Rachael was there he'd hit on her and the blowjobs she gave him for extra money kept him away for a little bit. That night she was home with her sick kid. At least thats what she said. I think she had some personal business to take care of at the Ballard club downtown. Thats what I think.
Alright, I keep going off on tangents. The boss was looking over my shoulder the whole time I was trying to cut and he telling me I was doing it wrong. And he kept jabbing me in the shoulder. I don't like to be touched and I really don't like to be jabbed with a long bony finger thats been God knows where. So...uh...yeah, I got pissed off and I stabbed him in the eye. Thats about it. It wasn't an accident or anything if thats what you're wondering. I got pissed off and took the fucker's eye out.
The bit with the cooler? I didn't do that. Well, you're not going to believe me if I tell you. Alright. After I stabbed his eye out he was fumblin' around screamin' knockin' pots off the racks, making a damn mess in the kitchen. The reg book would have something to say about that let me tell you, ha ha. You probably saw his hand, he put it in the deep friar. It wasn't in very long but he burnt the shit out of it. Jesus, he was screamin' loud. Then the fucking chicken attacked him. I swear on my mother's grave! He kept dancing around, screaming, making a mess, so I opened the cooler and shoved him in. Then the chicken patties jumped on him, fucking covered up his face so he couldn't breath. You found one down his throat didn't you? Yeah, it crawled in there. Weirdest damn thing I've ever seen and I've seen some weird shit. What's that? Nah, I wasn't on drugs. Not that night anyways.
Yeah yeah, thats my story. Back to my cell right? I hear we're having fried chicken for lunch, you better watch your back officer, ah ha ha!
That was weak, I'm sorry guys. Maybe it could be part of a larger story though, someday.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Choose Your Own Fate: Up Dem Purty Stairs
Hmmm, you'd better try upstairs. If you go into the kitchen you'll just end up eating as much food as you can get your hands on and if you go into the living room you'll just lie down and take a nap. If you go into the back yard you'll run around chasing butterflies till someone calls the cops. You are a very strange person, I'll give you that.
You grip the stair riser and slowly creep up trying not to make a sound. When you get to the top you can hear water running. It's coming from the door right in front of you. You walk up to it and push it open a tiny bit. It's a bathroom and there is a shower running. You can see someone moving behind the opaque curtain. Someone naked, you guess. Suddenly the form turns and looks at you and you book it across the hallway into the first door you can find, hiding in the closet. Why didn't you just go back downstairs, dumbass! You hear the water shutoff and then footsteps coming down the hall. They stop at the door and it slowly opens. From your position cowering behind a stack of board games you can't see out the slats very well. Maybe you could if you moved a bit, but you wouldn't want to make noise would you?
Suddenly the closet door swings open and there is Betsy Ann wearing nothing but a towel staring right at you, her hair is still dripping wet.
Is she:
Angry?
Happy?
Horny?
Sad?
Does she run screaming down the hallway?
Or does she grab the nearest object to beat you with?
Or does she not see you at all?
Or make up your own reaction.
You grip the stair riser and slowly creep up trying not to make a sound. When you get to the top you can hear water running. It's coming from the door right in front of you. You walk up to it and push it open a tiny bit. It's a bathroom and there is a shower running. You can see someone moving behind the opaque curtain. Someone naked, you guess. Suddenly the form turns and looks at you and you book it across the hallway into the first door you can find, hiding in the closet. Why didn't you just go back downstairs, dumbass! You hear the water shutoff and then footsteps coming down the hall. They stop at the door and it slowly opens. From your position cowering behind a stack of board games you can't see out the slats very well. Maybe you could if you moved a bit, but you wouldn't want to make noise would you?
Suddenly the closet door swings open and there is Betsy Ann wearing nothing but a towel staring right at you, her hair is still dripping wet.
Is she:
Angry?
Happy?
Horny?
Sad?
Does she run screaming down the hallway?
Or does she grab the nearest object to beat you with?
Or does she not see you at all?
Or make up your own reaction.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Who am I?
Am I a king in a castle up high
Who sits in his throne room and weeps?
When his enemies are coming to cut off his head
A horror he's known about for weeks?
Am I a clown in a large circus show
Or a madman, a furry, a freak?
Or a thing with six arms
Come to rip you apart
Do I have the answers you seek?
I am everything
I am nothing
Just a speck of dust
On a beach large and grand
I am the waves that wash over your feet
As you slowly sink into the sand
I am Adam with apple in hand
As I give it to Eve to eat
I am your god
Your serpent
Your friend
Get on your knees
And bow down to me
I am Hitler in a bunker
With Eva when the bombs are dropped
Will you take that pill?
I know that you will
I've already killed off the dogs
I am Jack on a cold foggy night
My knife it fits well in my grip
A girl a girl a girl
I must find
To cut open from top to rind
To see what neat things there are inside
I am everything
I am nothing
The wind that tears at your clothes
And when you finally reach
The answers you seek
When you finally know who I am
I'll be there to remind you
That I'm really inside you
I am them
I am you
I am me
I am their beginnings
And their ends
That voice in your ear
That you can't help but hear
All the evil that is done
Is by my hand
For I am man
Who sits in his throne room and weeps?
When his enemies are coming to cut off his head
A horror he's known about for weeks?
Am I a clown in a large circus show
Or a madman, a furry, a freak?
Or a thing with six arms
Come to rip you apart
Do I have the answers you seek?
I am everything
I am nothing
Just a speck of dust
On a beach large and grand
I am the waves that wash over your feet
As you slowly sink into the sand
I am Adam with apple in hand
As I give it to Eve to eat
I am your god
Your serpent
Your friend
Get on your knees
And bow down to me
I am Hitler in a bunker
With Eva when the bombs are dropped
Will you take that pill?
I know that you will
I've already killed off the dogs
I am Jack on a cold foggy night
My knife it fits well in my grip
A girl a girl a girl
I must find
To cut open from top to rind
To see what neat things there are inside
I am everything
I am nothing
The wind that tears at your clothes
And when you finally reach
The answers you seek
When you finally know who I am
I'll be there to remind you
That I'm really inside you
I am them
I am you
I am me
I am their beginnings
And their ends
That voice in your ear
That you can't help but hear
All the evil that is done
Is by my hand
For I am man
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Angora Napkin!
So I finally got my copy of Troy Little's Angora Napkin book in the mail. I was expecting a slim little paper back comic so imagine my surprise when I got a thick hardcover book! And also imagine my surprise when I couldn't stop reading it! Listen up all yea starved for awesome cartoony comics that are just a tad bit on the adult side, here is your Saviour. Zombies! Undead parties! Bubblegum pop! Boob grabbing! Useless priests! Salad!
I'm not going to give away any real plot details so I guess this is kind of a paltry review but it gets a very high recommendation from this random person on the Internet.
Order here!
I'm not going to give away any real plot details so I guess this is kind of a paltry review but it gets a very high recommendation from this random person on the Internet.
Order here!
Friday, February 20, 2009
The Problem with Robot Love
Once upon a time we were falling in love
Remember when we kissed in the dark?
Then you tore at my face
And you tried to rip out my heart
Every now and then I get a little bit lonely and go back to where you were born
I look at the parts on the garage floor
And I wonder where it all went wrong
Then I turnaround
And every now and I then I see you standing behind me
And I really can't help but smile
It was violent in the end
But I need you my friend
And I don't have enough parts to build you again
And every now and then you fell apart
And I put you back together
And didn't know you couldn't go out in wet weather
But I thought you'd love me forever
And we always made it right
Cause we were made for each other
I didn't know what to do so I sat in the dark
You looked like a powder keg giving off sparks
That really wasn't a good night
The end was the beginning that night
The end was the beginning that night
Once upon a time you were built out of love
And then I had to rip you apart
And there's nothing I can say
You tried to rip out my heart
And there's nothing I can say
I had to tear you apart
Remember when we kissed in the dark?
Then you tore at my face
And you tried to rip out my heart
Every now and then I get a little bit lonely and go back to where you were born
I look at the parts on the garage floor
And I wonder where it all went wrong
Then I turnaround
And every now and I then I see you standing behind me
And I really can't help but smile
It was violent in the end
But I need you my friend
And I don't have enough parts to build you again
And every now and then you fell apart
And I put you back together
And didn't know you couldn't go out in wet weather
But I thought you'd love me forever
And we always made it right
Cause we were made for each other
I didn't know what to do so I sat in the dark
You looked like a powder keg giving off sparks
That really wasn't a good night
The end was the beginning that night
The end was the beginning that night
Once upon a time you were built out of love
And then I had to rip you apart
And there's nothing I can say
You tried to rip out my heart
And there's nothing I can say
I had to tear you apart
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
How to Make a Million Dollars
It used to be that to be an entertainer, you had to be good at what you did, especially as a popular musician. This slowly eroded but at least until the late 90s you at least had to have some sort of singing or song writing talent for people to like your songs. Even the most banal studio produced garbage had catchy hooks or something that would get stuck in your head and warrant play on the radio.
That was until this asshat came along:
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Soulja Boy, seen here on a beach wearing clothes you could shoplift from Goodwill.
Man, I thought I knew what a horrible song sounded like but in the history of stupid, lame crud music this shit really takes the cake. The first time I heard the song who's name I don't dare speak, on the radio, I couldn't believe it. My mind couldn't wrap itself around what I was hearing. There was a random steel drum beat and what sounded like a mentally challenged youth mumbling something about hos and superman and then an annoying voice shouting YOU over and over. I had no idea what it was. It certainly wasn't music. Music has rhythm and melody. Pop music is supposed to at least attempt a catchy hook. This had nothing. Nothing at fucking all. So of course I had to look it up. Was this really what the kids were listening to now? Had pop music fallen so far since I graduated highschool and stopped listening to the radio? Apparently yes. This song was a number one hit for seven freaking weeks. SEVEN! On top of that it made millions from tone deaf morons who put it on their cell phones. Then Soulja Jerk-ass won a grammy for best new rap artist. Rap? What? Thats not rap music. Rap music even at its worst has a rhythm and beat to it and actual fucking lyrics. How did this happen? Theres tons of talented musicians out there who try and try and try to break into the music business by writing actual songs, most of whom never make it but this fucking talentless hack publishes this "thing" on the net and suddenly he's fucking everywhere making tons of money. It's not fucking fair!
So here's what you need to do to become rich like this ass clown:
1. Steal a random beat from somewhere. It doesn't have to be relevant to the song, any random beat will do.
2. Think of the first thing that comes into your head. Soulja Boy's first hit song was about a nasty sex act. Mine will be about...corn dogs.
3. Record your vocals, it doesn't matter what you sing about because you'll be mumbling and no one will understand you anyways. Be sure to shout out at least one word loud and clear.
4. Create a stupid dance for the short bus kids who go to clubs to dance to. Mine is called the corn dog. To do the corn dog you wave your arms in the air while shouting FOOD really loudly.
5. Put it all together, publish it on the net, and then sit back and count your money.
The only reason I'm ripping on this loser is because I heard another of his musical atrocities today and it made me sick. He's still popular and making money, which blows my mind and makes me very sad for our culture.
That was until this asshat came along:
Soulja Boy, seen here on a beach wearing clothes you could shoplift from Goodwill.
Man, I thought I knew what a horrible song sounded like but in the history of stupid, lame crud music this shit really takes the cake. The first time I heard the song who's name I don't dare speak, on the radio, I couldn't believe it. My mind couldn't wrap itself around what I was hearing. There was a random steel drum beat and what sounded like a mentally challenged youth mumbling something about hos and superman and then an annoying voice shouting YOU over and over. I had no idea what it was. It certainly wasn't music. Music has rhythm and melody. Pop music is supposed to at least attempt a catchy hook. This had nothing. Nothing at fucking all. So of course I had to look it up. Was this really what the kids were listening to now? Had pop music fallen so far since I graduated highschool and stopped listening to the radio? Apparently yes. This song was a number one hit for seven freaking weeks. SEVEN! On top of that it made millions from tone deaf morons who put it on their cell phones. Then Soulja Jerk-ass won a grammy for best new rap artist. Rap? What? Thats not rap music. Rap music even at its worst has a rhythm and beat to it and actual fucking lyrics. How did this happen? Theres tons of talented musicians out there who try and try and try to break into the music business by writing actual songs, most of whom never make it but this fucking talentless hack publishes this "thing" on the net and suddenly he's fucking everywhere making tons of money. It's not fucking fair!
So here's what you need to do to become rich like this ass clown:
1. Steal a random beat from somewhere. It doesn't have to be relevant to the song, any random beat will do.
2. Think of the first thing that comes into your head. Soulja Boy's first hit song was about a nasty sex act. Mine will be about...corn dogs.
3. Record your vocals, it doesn't matter what you sing about because you'll be mumbling and no one will understand you anyways. Be sure to shout out at least one word loud and clear.
4. Create a stupid dance for the short bus kids who go to clubs to dance to. Mine is called the corn dog. To do the corn dog you wave your arms in the air while shouting FOOD really loudly.
5. Put it all together, publish it on the net, and then sit back and count your money.
The only reason I'm ripping on this loser is because I heard another of his musical atrocities today and it made me sick. He's still popular and making money, which blows my mind and makes me very sad for our culture.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Fill in the _________
Once up time in the land of ______ there lived a poor _______ by the name of Bargengoogle. He lived in a small __________ by a ________ and was very happy. One day the king of this great land called upon all of its citizens to attend a party at his castle where they would __________ all the _________ in gratitude for all the great things they had done for the kingdom. Bargengoogle was so happy that he _________ his _________ with glee. He dropped his plow, put on his best peasant covering and made his way to the party.
Along the way he met a stinky old hermit by the name of Forgorban the old and stinky. Forgorban pointed an ominous finger in Bargengoogle's nose and warned him not to go the party for there he would _________ and be forced to __________ till his ________ fell out his ___________. Bargengoogle laughed at the old man and told him to run along and _________ with his ___________. Then he continued on his way to the castle.
When he got there the party was already in full swing. All the lords and ladies were already ___________ their ___________ and ____________ the king as he sat on his mighty throne. Bargengoogle had never seen such fun and merriment since he was but a poor peasant farmer. He went to the food table and grabbed a turkey leg chewing it noisily. Suddenly the music stopped. Everyone turned and looked at Bargengoogle. The king __________ and ___________ and ___________ as he ran over and pulled the leg out of the poor man's mouth.
"You stupid fool!" That turkey was for _____________! How are we going to _________ it now? Get out! Leave this land and never return!"
Bargengoogle ran out of the castle crying his poor little eyes out. Before he left for the great wastlelands beyond he vowed to _________ the king in his __________ and ___________ his daughter too. And he did too. But that is a story for another time....
Along the way he met a stinky old hermit by the name of Forgorban the old and stinky. Forgorban pointed an ominous finger in Bargengoogle's nose and warned him not to go the party for there he would _________ and be forced to __________ till his ________ fell out his ___________. Bargengoogle laughed at the old man and told him to run along and _________ with his ___________. Then he continued on his way to the castle.
When he got there the party was already in full swing. All the lords and ladies were already ___________ their ___________ and ____________ the king as he sat on his mighty throne. Bargengoogle had never seen such fun and merriment since he was but a poor peasant farmer. He went to the food table and grabbed a turkey leg chewing it noisily. Suddenly the music stopped. Everyone turned and looked at Bargengoogle. The king __________ and ___________ and ___________ as he ran over and pulled the leg out of the poor man's mouth.
"You stupid fool!" That turkey was for _____________! How are we going to _________ it now? Get out! Leave this land and never return!"
Bargengoogle ran out of the castle crying his poor little eyes out. Before he left for the great wastlelands beyond he vowed to _________ the king in his __________ and ___________ his daughter too. And he did too. But that is a story for another time....
Sunday, February 15, 2009
A Valentine's Day Story
Jimmy was a dork. You know the kind, they're in high school but still get dressed by their moms. Jimmy was such a dork this his mom also brushed his teeth and combed his hair. Sometimes she even bathed him. This of course got out somehow and Jimmy's one friend (a fat smelly kid that picked his nose and wiped it in his pockets) stopped hanging out with him. Well, they had stood around in the hallway by the art room and now the fat smelly kid stood five feet away but to Jimmy it was like he wasn't even there anymore. The thought ran through his mind that he couldn't even remember the kids name anymore and a single tear ran down his cheek. A group of jocks walked by and laughed and the captain of the football team punched him in the stomach. At least they didn't stuff him in the trashcan like they usually did. Jimmy stood up and walked to homeroom class.
Sitting right in front of Jimmy in Mr. Dergstrom's morning borefest was Melthea Dorbinson. She never talked to Jimmy but he liked to sit behind her and smell her hair. It smelled like strawberry's today. He inhaled deeply and she turned around and gave him a strange look. Then she moved to an empty desk at the front of the room. Another tear ran down his cheek and the beefy jock next to him smacked him in the back of the head with a hefty science book. Jimmy's head flew forward and smashed into his desk. Everything went black and when he woke up....
There was no one else in the room. As he stared in awe at the empty and oddly bright and sunny classroom he heard a voice behind him. Melthea was sitting on the teacher's desk.
"Hey big boy," she said and squeezed her boobs. "How'd you like me to teach you something useful?" Then she pulled off her shirt...
Back in the classroom, Mr. Dergstrom hadn't come in yet. All the kids in the classroom were gathered around Jimmy's unconscious form. Most of his body was blacked out but his hand sure wasn't. Melthea and her friend Almetha laughed and pointed as he furiously jerked himself. Everyone else was silent at this grand spectacle of hideous self love. Suddenly Jimmy groaned and it was all over. As he sat up and screamed the room burst with laughter and poor Jimmy cried and ran out of the classroom into the bathroom.
He weeped as he washed off his hands. As he thought about how many more hours he had before he could be home in the warm loving arms of his mother, he heard a small noise. It was coming from the bathroom stall. Cautiously he walked over and opened it. There was the fat smelly kid sitting on the toilet, his pants pulled down around his ankles, his hands covered in poop. He was crying softly.
"What happened?" Said Jimmy.
"I POOPED MAHSELF!" Said the smelly kid.
"That sucks for you," Said Jimmy "Here let me help you clean up."
As he wiped the stinky shit off the kids hands Jimmy knew that he had found true love. Later they would have sex in the back of the band room till Mr. Nebbish walked in on them and went blind.
The moral of the story is: Love sucks, take it where you can find it. Even if it involves poop and public humiliation.
THE END
Harpy valenteens day you hosers!
Sitting right in front of Jimmy in Mr. Dergstrom's morning borefest was Melthea Dorbinson. She never talked to Jimmy but he liked to sit behind her and smell her hair. It smelled like strawberry's today. He inhaled deeply and she turned around and gave him a strange look. Then she moved to an empty desk at the front of the room. Another tear ran down his cheek and the beefy jock next to him smacked him in the back of the head with a hefty science book. Jimmy's head flew forward and smashed into his desk. Everything went black and when he woke up....
There was no one else in the room. As he stared in awe at the empty and oddly bright and sunny classroom he heard a voice behind him. Melthea was sitting on the teacher's desk.
"Hey big boy," she said and squeezed her boobs. "How'd you like me to teach you something useful?" Then she pulled off her shirt...
Back in the classroom, Mr. Dergstrom hadn't come in yet. All the kids in the classroom were gathered around Jimmy's unconscious form. Most of his body was blacked out but his hand sure wasn't. Melthea and her friend Almetha laughed and pointed as he furiously jerked himself. Everyone else was silent at this grand spectacle of hideous self love. Suddenly Jimmy groaned and it was all over. As he sat up and screamed the room burst with laughter and poor Jimmy cried and ran out of the classroom into the bathroom.
He weeped as he washed off his hands. As he thought about how many more hours he had before he could be home in the warm loving arms of his mother, he heard a small noise. It was coming from the bathroom stall. Cautiously he walked over and opened it. There was the fat smelly kid sitting on the toilet, his pants pulled down around his ankles, his hands covered in poop. He was crying softly.
"What happened?" Said Jimmy.
"I POOPED MAHSELF!" Said the smelly kid.
"That sucks for you," Said Jimmy "Here let me help you clean up."
As he wiped the stinky shit off the kids hands Jimmy knew that he had found true love. Later they would have sex in the back of the band room till Mr. Nebbish walked in on them and went blind.
The moral of the story is: Love sucks, take it where you can find it. Even if it involves poop and public humiliation.
THE END
Harpy valenteens day you hosers!
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Life Posting: Girls who can draw, Bob Seger, and Alan Moore
One of my favorite cartoonists put up a bunch of hilarious (and cute) Disney skteches: http://binsybaby.livejournal.com/606604.html#cutid1
Her name is Emmy Cicerega and I'm ashamed to admit that I've developed kind of a large crush on her, just from reading her blog and looking at her drawings. She is incredibly cute however, which doesn't help things much. I guess it's just me being weird that I could fall in love with someone I've never met just because they can draw. If you want my heart just be female and make some funny pictures and I'm all yours.
Currently reading: V for Vendetta
There's been lots of "Alan Moore is overrated" junk going around from hipster morons lately, but the fact is that the man is a damn genius and thats all there is to it. He may be bat shit crazy, but most geniuses are. If you haven't read Watchmen or League of Extraordinary Gentlemen or even Top 10, then you are missing out big time.
Currently listening to: Bob Seger's Greatest Hits
This was one of my favorite albums in high school for some reason. I started listening to it again yesterday and I can't for the life of me figure out why I liked it so much. It's not bad but it's not super awesome great like it used to be. Sigh, sometimes the past is a wisp of fog that you try over and over to grab, only to have it dissipate in your hand.
Currently watching: Prophet Buddy! Thanks once again go to the wonderful people at Dumm comics for pointing me towards another kick ass cartoonist that makes kick ass cartoons. I've been spreading these out and watching them all day!
Working on finishing up Seven Deadly Stories. I'm in a "hate everything I write, why the frick am I bothering" mood again so I've put it aside for a bit. When I feel a little better I'll pick it up and work on revising some more. Look for my Manos post on Crudloadofmovies tomorrow! Stay cool you crazy cats!
Her name is Emmy Cicerega and I'm ashamed to admit that I've developed kind of a large crush on her, just from reading her blog and looking at her drawings. She is incredibly cute however, which doesn't help things much. I guess it's just me being weird that I could fall in love with someone I've never met just because they can draw. If you want my heart just be female and make some funny pictures and I'm all yours.
Currently reading: V for Vendetta
There's been lots of "Alan Moore is overrated" junk going around from hipster morons lately, but the fact is that the man is a damn genius and thats all there is to it. He may be bat shit crazy, but most geniuses are. If you haven't read Watchmen or League of Extraordinary Gentlemen or even Top 10, then you are missing out big time.
Currently listening to: Bob Seger's Greatest Hits
This was one of my favorite albums in high school for some reason. I started listening to it again yesterday and I can't for the life of me figure out why I liked it so much. It's not bad but it's not super awesome great like it used to be. Sigh, sometimes the past is a wisp of fog that you try over and over to grab, only to have it dissipate in your hand.
Currently watching: Prophet Buddy! Thanks once again go to the wonderful people at Dumm comics for pointing me towards another kick ass cartoonist that makes kick ass cartoons. I've been spreading these out and watching them all day!
Working on finishing up Seven Deadly Stories. I'm in a "hate everything I write, why the frick am I bothering" mood again so I've put it aside for a bit. When I feel a little better I'll pick it up and work on revising some more. Look for my Manos post on Crudloadofmovies tomorrow! Stay cool you crazy cats!
Choose Your Own Fate: Of Love and Puke
So there you are: Standing at the door of the girl that broke your heart, some strange alien goop covered in blood and snot concealed in your hand, ready to mash it into her face. Oh sweet revenge, thy name is goop. You rap on the door delicately so as not to alert suspicions. You can hear noises in the house, someone is coming to the door. They get closer. CLOSER! You pull your hand back to throw, your brow furrows in concentration. Sweat beads on your forehead...this is it, the grand moment. Possibly the greatest moment of your teenhood, nay, of your life! The footsteps get up to the door and stop. The knob turns slowly. SLOWLY! And the door creaks open...
Before you even look to see who answered your knocks, you let the crud fly. Your wussy toss causes it to arc and it lands on the shirt of Rock Fizzlebeef (yup thats really his name) Betsy Ann's 300 LB wad of muscle and veins boyfriend! Oh geez, you're really in trouble now! Run for it!
You try to run but he grabs on to the back of your shirt and your legs spin uselessly just like in a cartoon. He picks you up and puts your face right next to his.
"Whyfore you throw snot on my shirt?" He growls. His breath smells like mothballs and old cabbage. You gag.
"Dat not very nice of you. WHYFORE YOU THROW SNOT AT MES?" He's breathing hard and shouting now. You feel your stomach start to turn flops.
"DAT NOT VERY NICE, I PUT CLEAN SHIRT ON TODAY FOR BETSY ANN AND YOU MAKE IT YUCKY! BETSY ANN NOT LIKE YUCKY SHIRT! I MAKE YOU PAY!"
As he raises his hand to turn your face into a bloody pulp you let go and vomit up food you don't even remember eating. All over jock boys face. He screams and drops you and runs into the house screaming surprisingly girly screams. You laugh and wipe off your mouth. Your weak as shit stomach finally did some good! But what of Betsy Ann? Now that your thoughts of revenge have been tempered, you decide to go profess your love to her again. But where to look?
Alright guys. There's a stairs to your left and a living room to your right, devoid of people. The couches look comfy though. Ahead of you, you can see a kitchen and a window onto a backyard. Pick a direction!
Before you even look to see who answered your knocks, you let the crud fly. Your wussy toss causes it to arc and it lands on the shirt of Rock Fizzlebeef (yup thats really his name) Betsy Ann's 300 LB wad of muscle and veins boyfriend! Oh geez, you're really in trouble now! Run for it!
You try to run but he grabs on to the back of your shirt and your legs spin uselessly just like in a cartoon. He picks you up and puts your face right next to his.
"Whyfore you throw snot on my shirt?" He growls. His breath smells like mothballs and old cabbage. You gag.
"Dat not very nice of you. WHYFORE YOU THROW SNOT AT MES?" He's breathing hard and shouting now. You feel your stomach start to turn flops.
"DAT NOT VERY NICE, I PUT CLEAN SHIRT ON TODAY FOR BETSY ANN AND YOU MAKE IT YUCKY! BETSY ANN NOT LIKE YUCKY SHIRT! I MAKE YOU PAY!"
As he raises his hand to turn your face into a bloody pulp you let go and vomit up food you don't even remember eating. All over jock boys face. He screams and drops you and runs into the house screaming surprisingly girly screams. You laugh and wipe off your mouth. Your weak as shit stomach finally did some good! But what of Betsy Ann? Now that your thoughts of revenge have been tempered, you decide to go profess your love to her again. But where to look?
Alright guys. There's a stairs to your left and a living room to your right, devoid of people. The couches look comfy though. Ahead of you, you can see a kitchen and a window onto a backyard. Pick a direction!
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Writing Experiment: Random Word
Go here: Random Word Generator
Write (or draw) whatever based on whatever word comes up.
My word is "impact"
Impact
The car hit the railing
And flew into the air
He knew he was going to die
But he really didn't care
Suspended for a moment
Before the impact came
The last lonely thought
That wandered through his brain
Was not of life or death or pain
But of the sound it would make
When his all his bones started to break
And his brain smashed into paste
He marveled at the peculiar sound
Right before he hit the ground
What a symphony for me, he thought
Right here at the end
A record that I wish I'd bought
And could show to all my friends
This is how I died I'd say
Turn the volume up a little ways
And you can hear my last breath blow
When the car stops in the snow
Then the twisted metal choir
Kept harmony with the roaring fire
The grim conductor extended a bony hand
To the back part of the band
A counterpoint they struck
Composed of snaps, crackles and pops
Then the symphony was done
But an audience there was none
The only one to see the show
Was silent in the melting snow
His admission might have been free
But it sure had lousy seats
Write (or draw) whatever based on whatever word comes up.
My word is "impact"
Impact
The car hit the railing
And flew into the air
He knew he was going to die
But he really didn't care
Suspended for a moment
Before the impact came
The last lonely thought
That wandered through his brain
Was not of life or death or pain
But of the sound it would make
When his all his bones started to break
And his brain smashed into paste
He marveled at the peculiar sound
Right before he hit the ground
What a symphony for me, he thought
Right here at the end
A record that I wish I'd bought
And could show to all my friends
This is how I died I'd say
Turn the volume up a little ways
And you can hear my last breath blow
When the car stops in the snow
Then the twisted metal choir
Kept harmony with the roaring fire
The grim conductor extended a bony hand
To the back part of the band
A counterpoint they struck
Composed of snaps, crackles and pops
Then the symphony was done
But an audience there was none
The only one to see the show
Was silent in the melting snow
His admission might have been free
But it sure had lousy seats
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Song of the Happy Clown
Come one
come all
We'll all have so much fun
I can sing
I can juggle
I can dance
I can play all the current popular songs
On my ukulele
And my bike horn
I'll wear funny pants
I'll do anything to make you laugh
I'll hit my head
I'll fall down
I'll cut all my veins wide open
Here's my blood
Just for you
Aren't we having such a good time?
I'll tell jokes
I'll throw pies
If you don't laugh then I'll die
And I'll take you all with me
Here's a balloon
Just for you
It looks just like my ex-wife
Laugh goddamn you laugh!
Watch me dance
And piss my pants
I'll do anything to make you laugh
I'll do anything to make you laugh
Please laugh
Or I swear I'll kill your dog
And by the way
Happy birthday
It's such a special day for you
Here's your cake
Isn't it great?
I wish it was my birthday
All I got when I was a kid
Was a kick in the ass
Now lets all dance
To this tune
I wrote it about killing small animals
No you can't leave
What did I just say?
One more step and I'll blow you away
And that would ruin
Timmy's special day
Lets all thank him
For inviting you
To his very special party
And for hiring
Binky the happy dancing clown.
I wish I could play guitar, I so would write a tune for this thing.
come all
We'll all have so much fun
I can sing
I can juggle
I can dance
I can play all the current popular songs
On my ukulele
And my bike horn
I'll wear funny pants
I'll do anything to make you laugh
I'll hit my head
I'll fall down
I'll cut all my veins wide open
Here's my blood
Just for you
Aren't we having such a good time?
I'll tell jokes
I'll throw pies
If you don't laugh then I'll die
And I'll take you all with me
Here's a balloon
Just for you
It looks just like my ex-wife
Laugh goddamn you laugh!
Watch me dance
And piss my pants
I'll do anything to make you laugh
I'll do anything to make you laugh
Please laugh
Or I swear I'll kill your dog
And by the way
Happy birthday
It's such a special day for you
Here's your cake
Isn't it great?
I wish it was my birthday
All I got when I was a kid
Was a kick in the ass
Now lets all dance
To this tune
I wrote it about killing small animals
No you can't leave
What did I just say?
One more step and I'll blow you away
And that would ruin
Timmy's special day
Lets all thank him
For inviting you
To his very special party
And for hiring
Binky the happy dancing clown.
I wish I could play guitar, I so would write a tune for this thing.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Choose Your Own Fate Doubles Down!
Option 1:
You feel so happy you could puke and you do, all over the garage floor! You'll have to clean that up later, but right now all you want to do is dance and sing! You run outside as fast as you can and do your stupid dance in the pouring rain. It's alright, no one will see you since everyone is inside away from the storm. As you dance like a retarded monkey on crack you sing as loud as you can:
"I'm on the top of the world lookin' down on creation
And the only explanation I can find..."
You twirl and spin and disco dance and do your gay little prance all over the lawn. Then you close your eyes and twirl and spin and twirl some more.
"Is the love that Ive found ever since you've been around
Your loves put me at the top of the..." SMUCK!
Oh no! You danced out into the road and old man Finklestein (who was rushing to get home so his wife wouldn't know he's been screwing that cutie down at the bingo hall) couldn't see you because of the rain and the fact that he's as blind as a naked mole rat! You fly through the air and land on the ground in a bloody heap. Oh geez, it looks like all your bones are broken and several of your internal organs are now in your chest. The last sound you hear is the old man's tires burning rubber off into the distance. Stupid old geezer probably thinks he hit a squirrel is your last thought as everything fades to black.
YOU ARE DEAD!
Game over man, game over!
Or is it...
Option 2:
You feel so happy now that you have control of your own body again and never have to watch another episode of The Brady Bunch ever. You probably will though, you have a horrible crush on Mrs. Brady, you poor fool you. What should I do now, you think and stroke your imaginary beard.
Suddenly Betsy Ann Morgan pops into your head. Something else pops too but you choose to ignore it and it goes away. Betsy Ann is the cutest girl in the whole school and you were stupid enough to think you'd have a chance with her. That was until her boyfriend put you in a dumpster out behind the lunch room with all the candies you gave her shoved down your pants. Your mind turns from what she'd look like lying on your bed covered in cooking oil to thoughts of revenge! You smile an evil smile and scoop up some of the nasty crud and head over to her house just a few blocks down the street...
The rain has let up a bit and now it's only drizzling. Thunder rumbles off in the distance as you ring her doorbell. You've got the goop tightly concealed in your hand, hidden behind your back. Oh boy! Is she ever going to feel sorry she rejected your persistent and sort of creepy advances...
Okay, it's time to pick where the story goes!
Who will answer the door?
Betsy Ann?
Betsy Ann the way she'd look in your sickest fantasies?
Her mom?
Her dad?
A monkey with a flamethrower?
Marsha Brady?
Or...no one at all.
or just make some shit up, that would be cool too!
You feel so happy you could puke and you do, all over the garage floor! You'll have to clean that up later, but right now all you want to do is dance and sing! You run outside as fast as you can and do your stupid dance in the pouring rain. It's alright, no one will see you since everyone is inside away from the storm. As you dance like a retarded monkey on crack you sing as loud as you can:
"I'm on the top of the world lookin' down on creation
And the only explanation I can find..."
You twirl and spin and disco dance and do your gay little prance all over the lawn. Then you close your eyes and twirl and spin and twirl some more.
"Is the love that Ive found ever since you've been around
Your loves put me at the top of the..." SMUCK!
Oh no! You danced out into the road and old man Finklestein (who was rushing to get home so his wife wouldn't know he's been screwing that cutie down at the bingo hall) couldn't see you because of the rain and the fact that he's as blind as a naked mole rat! You fly through the air and land on the ground in a bloody heap. Oh geez, it looks like all your bones are broken and several of your internal organs are now in your chest. The last sound you hear is the old man's tires burning rubber off into the distance. Stupid old geezer probably thinks he hit a squirrel is your last thought as everything fades to black.
YOU ARE DEAD!
Game over man, game over!
Or is it...
Option 2:
You feel so happy now that you have control of your own body again and never have to watch another episode of The Brady Bunch ever. You probably will though, you have a horrible crush on Mrs. Brady, you poor fool you. What should I do now, you think and stroke your imaginary beard.
Suddenly Betsy Ann Morgan pops into your head. Something else pops too but you choose to ignore it and it goes away. Betsy Ann is the cutest girl in the whole school and you were stupid enough to think you'd have a chance with her. That was until her boyfriend put you in a dumpster out behind the lunch room with all the candies you gave her shoved down your pants. Your mind turns from what she'd look like lying on your bed covered in cooking oil to thoughts of revenge! You smile an evil smile and scoop up some of the nasty crud and head over to her house just a few blocks down the street...
The rain has let up a bit and now it's only drizzling. Thunder rumbles off in the distance as you ring her doorbell. You've got the goop tightly concealed in your hand, hidden behind your back. Oh boy! Is she ever going to feel sorry she rejected your persistent and sort of creepy advances...
Okay, it's time to pick where the story goes!
Who will answer the door?
Betsy Ann?
Betsy Ann the way she'd look in your sickest fantasies?
Her mom?
Her dad?
A monkey with a flamethrower?
Marsha Brady?
Or...no one at all.
or just make some shit up, that would be cool too!
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Stream of Consciousness Experiment
This is an interesting experiment. Just write whatever comes into your head, let it flow out as you write.
Here's mine:
Take the left fork to the left side of the road and hit the apple tree on the third branch. A man will fall and tell you were you need to turn next. Don't listen to him though, go the opposite way and you will reach the rusted out factory where the manic depressive elves live. Don't go there. Go to the broken down pizza hut next to it and order a large baloney sandwich with three kinds of cheese. A stairway will appear and you will be magically carried away by a pink and purple horse. His name is Hal. Do not ride him. Kick him in the balls and he will vomit magical stomach acid. Take some of this and give it to the dead dog thats rotting outside. He will revive and bite off your hand. Don't worry, you don't need it anyways. Follow him down to the mill by the park where the gay faeries dance and charter a riverboat to the seventh level of Hell. Hell is where your mother lives, don't you remember when she told you to eat her vegetables and you told her you wished she was dead? That wasn't very nice.
Tell the faeries to piss off and they will attack you and bite out your spleen. You will need this later so kill the pamby bastard that did it and get it back. Now board the fershulugin ship and sail away to the dark red waters of Hell. Throw your spleen at Satan and he will surrender his ship and his many many barrels of whores. This was your mission all along, you see. Now you have enough skanky sluts to last a lifetime! You congratulate yourself and get VD. The end.
Well that was fun. What can you guys come up with?
CYOF tomorrow, I swear, I've got it all planned out!
Here's mine:
Take the left fork to the left side of the road and hit the apple tree on the third branch. A man will fall and tell you were you need to turn next. Don't listen to him though, go the opposite way and you will reach the rusted out factory where the manic depressive elves live. Don't go there. Go to the broken down pizza hut next to it and order a large baloney sandwich with three kinds of cheese. A stairway will appear and you will be magically carried away by a pink and purple horse. His name is Hal. Do not ride him. Kick him in the balls and he will vomit magical stomach acid. Take some of this and give it to the dead dog thats rotting outside. He will revive and bite off your hand. Don't worry, you don't need it anyways. Follow him down to the mill by the park where the gay faeries dance and charter a riverboat to the seventh level of Hell. Hell is where your mother lives, don't you remember when she told you to eat her vegetables and you told her you wished she was dead? That wasn't very nice.
Tell the faeries to piss off and they will attack you and bite out your spleen. You will need this later so kill the pamby bastard that did it and get it back. Now board the fershulugin ship and sail away to the dark red waters of Hell. Throw your spleen at Satan and he will surrender his ship and his many many barrels of whores. This was your mission all along, you see. Now you have enough skanky sluts to last a lifetime! You congratulate yourself and get VD. The end.
Well that was fun. What can you guys come up with?
CYOF tomorrow, I swear, I've got it all planned out!
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Sam and Andrea
Some characters I've been working on for a very very long time. This is the first part of a much much longer and involved story. Perhaps I'll actually attempt to write it but it keeps changing and evolving so it's hard to pin down. Here's the two main characters:
Sam and Andrea are friends. They are very good friends. They are both in Jr. high school and want to be rock stars someday. Andrea plays guitar and piano and violin. Sam sings and plays a bit of guitar and harmonica but says that she'll never be as good as Andrea on guitar and that is alright with her.
Sam has dark hair that she hates and thinks she is fat, even though Andrea keeps telling her that she is not.
Andrea is skinny and blonde and none of the boys look at her because she has no boobs. This makes her sad but Sam tells her that any guy that would like her just for that isn't worth her time anyways.
Sam likes Bob Dylan but Andrea likes John Lennon better. They both like to sit and listen to records for hours and talk and play guitar and sing songs. Someday they will start a band and have lots of fans and maybe even get on TV. They don't care about being famous though, they just want to sing and play and have people listen to them sing and play.
Sam's dad was a musician who ran away when she was very young. Her mother is fat and sits on the couch all day watching TV.
Andrea never had a dad but her mom is an abusive old witch who forced her to learn violin and piano. She was home schooled till she hit Jr. High. Sam is her only friend as being sheltered from the outside world all her life has made her incredibly shy and quiet.
Together they struggle through the day to day drudgery of high school life, knowing that someday they will escape the crap sack little town they live in.
Someday....
Sam and Andrea are friends. They are very good friends. They are both in Jr. high school and want to be rock stars someday. Andrea plays guitar and piano and violin. Sam sings and plays a bit of guitar and harmonica but says that she'll never be as good as Andrea on guitar and that is alright with her.
Sam has dark hair that she hates and thinks she is fat, even though Andrea keeps telling her that she is not.
Andrea is skinny and blonde and none of the boys look at her because she has no boobs. This makes her sad but Sam tells her that any guy that would like her just for that isn't worth her time anyways.
Sam likes Bob Dylan but Andrea likes John Lennon better. They both like to sit and listen to records for hours and talk and play guitar and sing songs. Someday they will start a band and have lots of fans and maybe even get on TV. They don't care about being famous though, they just want to sing and play and have people listen to them sing and play.
Sam's dad was a musician who ran away when she was very young. Her mother is fat and sits on the couch all day watching TV.
Andrea never had a dad but her mom is an abusive old witch who forced her to learn violin and piano. She was home schooled till she hit Jr. High. Sam is her only friend as being sheltered from the outside world all her life has made her incredibly shy and quiet.
Together they struggle through the day to day drudgery of high school life, knowing that someday they will escape the crap sack little town they live in.
Someday....
Will You be My Yoko?
Will you be my Yoko?
I can be your John
We'll have our own bed-in
We'll have so much fun
Eating chocolate cake
In our bags till dawn
Will you be my Yoko?
And can I be your John?
Will you be my Yoko?
Can I be your walrus too?
I will write you pretty songs
Just because I love you
and I will stay right by your side
When your baby is due
If you will be my Yoko
Then I will be your walrus too
Will you be my Yoko?
And can I be your John?
You'll be my inspiration
When the rest of The Beatles are gone
I won't care what those fools will say
Because our love will still be true...
And I will sing you pretty songs
Just because I love you
If you will be my Yoko,
Then I will love you true.
I can be your John
We'll have our own bed-in
We'll have so much fun
Eating chocolate cake
In our bags till dawn
Will you be my Yoko?
And can I be your John?
Will you be my Yoko?
Can I be your walrus too?
I will write you pretty songs
Just because I love you
and I will stay right by your side
When your baby is due
If you will be my Yoko
Then I will be your walrus too
Will you be my Yoko?
And can I be your John?
You'll be my inspiration
When the rest of The Beatles are gone
I won't care what those fools will say
Because our love will still be true...
And I will sing you pretty songs
Just because I love you
If you will be my Yoko,
Then I will love you true.
Post Deleted
Sorry about that. I just had a very bad day today. I apologize if I ruined anyones good time. It will not happen again. Tomorrow: some stuff that will actually make make you feel better instead of worse. I promise.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Choose Your Own Fate Part 6
This was written on sticky notes and little scraps of paper while I sat at my desk pretending to work today. Hope you guys like it!
Despair hits you like a ton of bricks. Blood pours out of your nose and stains the front of your wide collared shirt. You want to cry and pee your pants, but you know that won't help stop the thing inside your head from yelling and screaming obscenities. Suddenly flash bulbs go off and you smile. What do you always do when you're sad to cheer yourself up that would drown out the the icky thing's rantings? Why, sing of course! You take a deep breath and yodel out the first song that comes to your mind.
"I fell in love with you before the second show
Your guitar, it sounds so sweet and clear
But you're not really here
Its just the radio..."
The thing stops shouting and when you get to the first chorus it sings along!
"Don't you remember you told me you loved me baby!
You said you'd be coming back this way again baby!
Baby, baby, baby, baby, oh, baby, I love you I really do!"
You let it sing the next verse and run quickly into the garage.
This dank oil smelling cavern is also your dad's workshop, which you were never allowed in till now. It's still pretty easy to find his tools since he's a slob and never puts things away. You grab a pair of pilers off a pile of tools.
"Loneliness is a such a sad affair
And I can hardly wait to be with you agai..."
The thing stops singing and shouts.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing boy? I don't fucking think so!"
Before you can get the pilers halfway up to your face it takes control of your hand and starts to pull it down. Gathering up all your will you pull back and your hand slowly raises. You get it close, oh so close, when the thing screams,
"Damn you, you sitcom hating freak!"
And gives a mighty tug on your hand, sending the pilers skittering across the floor. Thunder booms and it screams,
"You're mine forever! Do you hear me, forever!" Then it laughs like a retarded Vincent Price.
In desperation you shout, "Hey, look out over there!"
To your very great surprise your half ass desperate ruse works and with a "huh" the thing turns your head around and you break for it grabbing the pliers and shoving them firmly up your right nostril.
The thing screams, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" as the pliers grab a hold of something spongy which you hope isn't brain tissue and you give it a mighty tug.
The thing flies out with one yank and lies on the floor spasming and mewling like a wounded puppy, a quivering pile of snot, blood, and slime.
It's trying to crawl away, get it!
Your mighty sledgehammer of doom comes down directly in the middle of the thing and it deflates, squirting green and black blood all over the dirty floor.
"That was for making me sing along to Keith Partridge you son of a bitch!" You scream and pound it again.
After the horrid thing is just little bits of slime and tissue splattered everywhere, you stop to catch your breath. Wiping the sweat and gunk off your forehead you reflect on the events that have just transpired. You've never felt so alive!
What will you do next?
1. Run around in the rain like an idiot.
2. Gather up some slime, go over to the girl's house that wouldn't go with you to prom, and shove it in her face!
3. Go to your scientist neighbor's house and get him to come see what's left of this thing.
4. Explore the dark garage by yourself.
Despair hits you like a ton of bricks. Blood pours out of your nose and stains the front of your wide collared shirt. You want to cry and pee your pants, but you know that won't help stop the thing inside your head from yelling and screaming obscenities. Suddenly flash bulbs go off and you smile. What do you always do when you're sad to cheer yourself up that would drown out the the icky thing's rantings? Why, sing of course! You take a deep breath and yodel out the first song that comes to your mind.
"I fell in love with you before the second show
Your guitar, it sounds so sweet and clear
But you're not really here
Its just the radio..."
The thing stops shouting and when you get to the first chorus it sings along!
"Don't you remember you told me you loved me baby!
You said you'd be coming back this way again baby!
Baby, baby, baby, baby, oh, baby, I love you I really do!"
You let it sing the next verse and run quickly into the garage.
This dank oil smelling cavern is also your dad's workshop, which you were never allowed in till now. It's still pretty easy to find his tools since he's a slob and never puts things away. You grab a pair of pilers off a pile of tools.
"Loneliness is a such a sad affair
And I can hardly wait to be with you agai..."
The thing stops singing and shouts.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing boy? I don't fucking think so!"
Before you can get the pilers halfway up to your face it takes control of your hand and starts to pull it down. Gathering up all your will you pull back and your hand slowly raises. You get it close, oh so close, when the thing screams,
"Damn you, you sitcom hating freak!"
And gives a mighty tug on your hand, sending the pilers skittering across the floor. Thunder booms and it screams,
"You're mine forever! Do you hear me, forever!" Then it laughs like a retarded Vincent Price.
In desperation you shout, "Hey, look out over there!"
To your very great surprise your half ass desperate ruse works and with a "huh" the thing turns your head around and you break for it grabbing the pliers and shoving them firmly up your right nostril.
The thing screams, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" as the pliers grab a hold of something spongy which you hope isn't brain tissue and you give it a mighty tug.
The thing flies out with one yank and lies on the floor spasming and mewling like a wounded puppy, a quivering pile of snot, blood, and slime.
It's trying to crawl away, get it!
Your mighty sledgehammer of doom comes down directly in the middle of the thing and it deflates, squirting green and black blood all over the dirty floor.
"That was for making me sing along to Keith Partridge you son of a bitch!" You scream and pound it again.
After the horrid thing is just little bits of slime and tissue splattered everywhere, you stop to catch your breath. Wiping the sweat and gunk off your forehead you reflect on the events that have just transpired. You've never felt so alive!
What will you do next?
1. Run around in the rain like an idiot.
2. Gather up some slime, go over to the girl's house that wouldn't go with you to prom, and shove it in her face!
3. Go to your scientist neighbor's house and get him to come see what's left of this thing.
4. Explore the dark garage by yourself.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Alright I admit it...
I actually like Yoko Ono's music. There I said it...
I've been listening to John Lennon's and Yoko Ono's Plastic Ono Band albums back to back for a couple days now. John's album is amazing of course, like it would it be anything else, but I really didn't like Yoko's album (not many people seem to). It took two or three play-throughs before I really got it, before all the pieces really snapped into place and suddenly it was brilliant. The weird warbling, the high pitched screaming, she's using her voice as an instrument, an instrument that she can abuse however she wants. She can use it to express rage, happiness, and lust without even having to speak real words. Sometimes she tricks you into thinking she's going one way and suddenly does a full turn around, like the orgasmic moans on the track called AOS that turn into blaring primal screams, it's genius!
She's dissident and noisy as Hell, but how is it much different than the other noisy bands I've been ruining my ears with for the past three years? In fact I hear a lot of her influence in those bands and it's given me a new appreciation of where they're coming from now.
So God help me, next month when I get the next album in Lennon's discography, I might get Yoko's too. God help me...
Choose Your Own Fate Part 5
1.) You must escape the horrible torture of sitcom after sitcom, so you remind the thing about its demand to go to the garage.
Will do Spitter!
Oh God, another Brady Bunch episode! If this keeps up you'll have Jan Brady's voice stuck in your head forever! With an amazing force of will you leap up and knock the TV over where it lands on the floor in a flash of electric sparks and smoke. Then everything thing is dark and silent. You stand for what seems like an eternity, breathing heavily before the voice in your head speaks up softly and eerily calm.
"Why did you do that? That was very rude of you. Now you will have to be punished!" It says. You think fast,
"Because....because we still have to go to the garage, remember? You really wanted to go there! Don't hurt me!"
"Hmmm," the thing ponders for a bit, "Yes, you're right. The hilarity of American scripted comedy distracted me from my true mission! Let us go!"
Suddenly you're running full speed through the kitchen, past the basement stairs, and to the door leading to the garage. Too bad the thing forgets to make you open the damn thing and you slam right into it. You sit on the floor holding your bleeding nose.
"DOOR OPEN NOW PITIFUL HUMAN SCUM!" Screams the thing. "OR I KILL YOU FOOL POOPY JERK FACE PASTY SKINNED WEAK STUPID BUTT HEAD..."
What will you do now?
1. Open the door and see what it was that it wanted in the garage.
2. There's a plunger in the basement bathroom, maybe that would work to get it out of your head somehow?
3. This is all too much! Scream your head off and pee your pants.
4. Sit and sing Top of the World by The Carpenters.
5. Sing Carpenter's songs while you waltz into the garage.
Will do Spitter!
Oh God, another Brady Bunch episode! If this keeps up you'll have Jan Brady's voice stuck in your head forever! With an amazing force of will you leap up and knock the TV over where it lands on the floor in a flash of electric sparks and smoke. Then everything thing is dark and silent. You stand for what seems like an eternity, breathing heavily before the voice in your head speaks up softly and eerily calm.
"Why did you do that? That was very rude of you. Now you will have to be punished!" It says. You think fast,
"Because....because we still have to go to the garage, remember? You really wanted to go there! Don't hurt me!"
"Hmmm," the thing ponders for a bit, "Yes, you're right. The hilarity of American scripted comedy distracted me from my true mission! Let us go!"
Suddenly you're running full speed through the kitchen, past the basement stairs, and to the door leading to the garage. Too bad the thing forgets to make you open the damn thing and you slam right into it. You sit on the floor holding your bleeding nose.
"DOOR OPEN NOW PITIFUL HUMAN SCUM!" Screams the thing. "OR I KILL YOU FOOL POOPY JERK FACE PASTY SKINNED WEAK STUPID BUTT HEAD..."
What will you do now?
1. Open the door and see what it was that it wanted in the garage.
2. There's a plunger in the basement bathroom, maybe that would work to get it out of your head somehow?
3. This is all too much! Scream your head off and pee your pants.
4. Sit and sing Top of the World by The Carpenters.
5. Sing Carpenter's songs while you waltz into the garage.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Mystery Frog Crunch Random Update Post
Currently listening to:
John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band
Yoko Ono/Plastic Ono Band
I didn't have to get the Yoko album but I'm a crazy completest and I would have felt like a jerk just getting John's album. Plus I kind of like Yoko's weird random screechy music. She does some really cool things with her voice and if you can just step back and appreciate it for that, its kind of alright. Or you can just call it crap and move on, I wouldn't think less of you for it.
Currently reading:
Going to finally read the EC comic reprints I ordered. For some reason I just haven't been in the right frame of mind...
I had a couple random story ideas that floated through my brain today. One was about a guy who takes his girlfriend on a date to a graveyard and she gets really pissed off about it and creeped out. That's as far as I got on that one.
I was also thinking about islands again, it's always about islands with me, I don't know. I was thinking what if you were stranded on a deserted island and the only ship that came by was sea pirates? Wouldn't that suck? You think they'd kill you or just let you alone? Or capture you and hold you for ransom to extort money from your family back home? I think I'd take the spears I had been using to kill fish and crabs and take out as many of them as I could. Or just hide till they went away.
I've been thinking about my influences too. Everyone has influences right? Well, I started off reading R L Stine in 6th grade, moved on to Stephen King in high school, and to Lovecraft after that. I also read a lot of 1950s science fiction stuff, Ray Bradbury was my favorite. He was one of those authors that I read everything of his I could get my hands on.
Our small town library had a lot of books of old short science fiction stories for some reason. That was good stuff, before science got too accurate and sci-fi authors stopped thinking up crazy impossible things.
Current Favorite Song: Johnathan Coulton - Shop Vac
A real suburban nightmare song, this is the kind of life I'm trying very hard to avoid falling into:
"We hung a flag above the door
Checked out the gourmet grocery store
I bought a mower I can ride around the yard
But we haven't got real friends
And now even the fake ones have stopped calling
Maybe if you forget to hide the keys
I'll take a ride to Applebee's
I'll come home drunk on daiquiris and throw up on the neighbor's lawn
If you need me
I'll be downstairs
With the shop vac
You can call but I probably won't hear you
Because it's loud with the shop vac on
(For heaven's sake it's really loud with the shop vac on)
But you'll be OK
Cause you'll be upstairs
With the TV
You can cry and I probably won't hear you
Because it's loud with the shop vac on"
Haffa goot nite boys and ghouls. I'll put up something worth reading tomorrow. Thank you for your patronage.
John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band
Yoko Ono/Plastic Ono Band
I didn't have to get the Yoko album but I'm a crazy completest and I would have felt like a jerk just getting John's album. Plus I kind of like Yoko's weird random screechy music. She does some really cool things with her voice and if you can just step back and appreciate it for that, its kind of alright. Or you can just call it crap and move on, I wouldn't think less of you for it.
Currently reading:
Going to finally read the EC comic reprints I ordered. For some reason I just haven't been in the right frame of mind...
I had a couple random story ideas that floated through my brain today. One was about a guy who takes his girlfriend on a date to a graveyard and she gets really pissed off about it and creeped out. That's as far as I got on that one.
I was also thinking about islands again, it's always about islands with me, I don't know. I was thinking what if you were stranded on a deserted island and the only ship that came by was sea pirates? Wouldn't that suck? You think they'd kill you or just let you alone? Or capture you and hold you for ransom to extort money from your family back home? I think I'd take the spears I had been using to kill fish and crabs and take out as many of them as I could. Or just hide till they went away.
I've been thinking about my influences too. Everyone has influences right? Well, I started off reading R L Stine in 6th grade, moved on to Stephen King in high school, and to Lovecraft after that. I also read a lot of 1950s science fiction stuff, Ray Bradbury was my favorite. He was one of those authors that I read everything of his I could get my hands on.
Our small town library had a lot of books of old short science fiction stories for some reason. That was good stuff, before science got too accurate and sci-fi authors stopped thinking up crazy impossible things.
Current Favorite Song: Johnathan Coulton - Shop Vac
A real suburban nightmare song, this is the kind of life I'm trying very hard to avoid falling into:
"We hung a flag above the door
Checked out the gourmet grocery store
I bought a mower I can ride around the yard
But we haven't got real friends
And now even the fake ones have stopped calling
Maybe if you forget to hide the keys
I'll take a ride to Applebee's
I'll come home drunk on daiquiris and throw up on the neighbor's lawn
If you need me
I'll be downstairs
With the shop vac
You can call but I probably won't hear you
Because it's loud with the shop vac on
(For heaven's sake it's really loud with the shop vac on)
But you'll be OK
Cause you'll be upstairs
With the TV
You can cry and I probably won't hear you
Because it's loud with the shop vac on"
Haffa goot nite boys and ghouls. I'll put up something worth reading tomorrow. Thank you for your patronage.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Writing Experiments
Working on getting better at my descriptive passages, been thinking a bit about how it works too. For instance if I write:
"It was a summer day and the sun was shining brightly."
That's an alright description to get the reader in the right frame of mind but is it the same as:
"It was mid-summer and it was so hot and muggy that the second you stepped outside you were covered in sweat. The sun was a ball of fire in the sky, an evil yellow orb that scorched the earth making the business of living a veritable Hell."
Or how about the classic "It was a dark and stormy night?"
How about if I change it to: "There was no moon that night and the darkness was almost suffocating. The rain fell in sheets, blown back and forth by a vengeful howling wind."
Works better doesn't it?
It works for people too.
"Jim was a pimply faced teenager."
"Jim's face was pocked with old acne scars and fresh new black and white heads, covered by a sheen of oil. Needless to say, puberty had not been kind to Jim."
"Mary was a tramp."
"Mary had had sex with almost every of age male in town and it was whispered that she had lain with a few youngsters too. And a couple dogs, if old Barney's word could be trusted."
I'll have to dig out my copy of Stephen King's On Writing again. That book has a ton of good literary advice that methinks I need. If I remember right there's some good experiments in it that I could try.
"It was a summer day and the sun was shining brightly."
That's an alright description to get the reader in the right frame of mind but is it the same as:
"It was mid-summer and it was so hot and muggy that the second you stepped outside you were covered in sweat. The sun was a ball of fire in the sky, an evil yellow orb that scorched the earth making the business of living a veritable Hell."
Or how about the classic "It was a dark and stormy night?"
How about if I change it to: "There was no moon that night and the darkness was almost suffocating. The rain fell in sheets, blown back and forth by a vengeful howling wind."
Works better doesn't it?
It works for people too.
"Jim was a pimply faced teenager."
"Jim's face was pocked with old acne scars and fresh new black and white heads, covered by a sheen of oil. Needless to say, puberty had not been kind to Jim."
"Mary was a tramp."
"Mary had had sex with almost every of age male in town and it was whispered that she had lain with a few youngsters too. And a couple dogs, if old Barney's word could be trusted."
I'll have to dig out my copy of Stephen King's On Writing again. That book has a ton of good literary advice that methinks I need. If I remember right there's some good experiments in it that I could try.
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