Movie Critics Are Stupid

Going to college, I learned that conformity is much appreciated. Not mainstream conformity, but the even worse, canonical arts conformity, where classical works are intermingled with a few contemporary, self-righteous, scholarly narcissists, who won some crap shoot to be added to the list. Are they good? Probably. Should they be remembered? Probably not. This doesn’t really have anything to do with movie critics, which is my main point.

Why the hell do all movie critics lead off with a paragraph that doesn’t have anything to do with the movie? I’m reading your critique because I want to know if the movie is good enough to watch, and not because I am interested in some bullshit experience you had as a youth that you somehow think is a good segue into a film which overshadows your entire existence, that you’re probably going to misinterpret and give nothing but negative feedback on, simply because it doesn’t measure up to some oft-hailed masterpiece it didn’t try to be in the first place.

Your job is about movies, not small glimpses into your own life that you feel makes you an even greater expert on a subject you have self-proclaimed expertise in. Sure, background info on yourself is fine, and can often explain why you may have liked or disliked something, but I’m not here to read your memoirs, and you’re probably not that interesting to begin with if you spend the majority of your time bashing everything the majority of people enjoyed.

Now there is a difference between someone who reviews movies and a movie critic, despite these terms often being used interchangeably. People who review movies do so because they enjoy films, enjoy writing about them, and usually love sharing their experiences with others, to encourage or discourage other viewers. They often form strong bonds of friendship out of their passionate hobby. Movie critics are snobs who like to point out the obvious, and sometimes the irrelevant, and like to rate the smallest detail against the greatest. They usually just want praise and to be more important than their subject of ridicule.

I have several friends who review movies, and no friends who are movie critics, because movie critics have no friends and have never been laid. They live miserable lives and try to suck everyone into their misery. You either like something, or you don’t, so avoid letting movie critics make that decision for you. 

6 Months

I've created six months worth of posts, an exercise that has allowed me to write every single day, or thereabouts, and I plan on continuing that, but not on this blog. I will continue to focus on my fiction writing, every day, but this blog will become less frequent, at least weekly, possibly Saturday or Sunday as an almost definite, (which more or less makes it indefinite), and who the hell knows what I'm going to write about? Not me. Fiction writing takes more than me sitting down and cranking out fifteen or so minutes of randomness, barely proofreading, and occasionally finding a funny picture to go along with it. It requires effort, work, devotion, perseverance, etc. and I cannot do both. I'm not trying to get rich here, but I've a story or two to tell. 75 countries and 4 territories have anti-social individuals, just like me, just like us, and for that, we should be proud in what we have achieved. Write on. 

Arcade Games: The Sequel

This was apparently popular and I actually missed a few, so I decided to do a second entry. Read the first one here.

I remember we had Golden Axe at K-Mart. They used to put them close to the exit so kids could rob their parents of quarters as they shopped. My mom would shop for hours, so you better believe I went straight to the game. I always chose that dwarf guy who actually had the golden axe, and who can forget playing on a landscape built on the back of a giant turtle or bird? I remember once when my mom finished before I did and then she had to wait in the car for a half hour. She complained, but at least she knew how it felt.
The movie theater we always went to, Loews in Erlanger, had some cool games as well. The theater was notorious in later years for being run down, and still having the same exact games. The one game I remember the most was Terminator 2: Judgement Day. It was cool because it had a machine gun for a controller, but it notoriously ate quarters, while at the same time being generous with extra plays. This made for some confusion, if I recall correctly, because some people slipped several quarters in at the same time, but you shared credits, so you never knew who was getting the extra plays or paying for them. I actually found this game this past year with a friend and we completely defeated it. Good times. 
Big Lots had the Double Dragon game, years late, but it also had Double Dragon II, years late, and it also had Double Dragon III, years late. I played all three of them there, with my uncle who was three years older than me, and we beat each one, so they get a hats off for allowing me to beat a trilogy at the same location. Naturally, the games got more difficult, because consumerism was taking over and it was time to rob players of their quarters, but looking back, I still had a blast. 

A Picture Is Worth a Thousand Words

I can prove this old adage is untrue. 

A picture of "A Thousand Words".

Get a Life, Loser

People believe what they want. I mean they really do, about everything. Some are just hard-wired for it. You're not going to change their minds. But that doesn't stop some people. Some people have to force their viewpoint on you. They will not accept that you have made the choice to blindly believe something you're told, or raised with, or assumed on your own. Most of those are bent on conversion and will not rest until you are on their imagined "side" or at least start questioning everything you believe. Others just like to hear themselves talk, and have the "I'm right, you're wrong" syndrome.

There are entire communities devoted to skepticism. Some in these communities are the good guys. They point out bullshit, especially harmful bullshit, in the interest of helping and saving others. Maybe they've been wronged, or know someone who has, or are crusaders against a perceived wrong. I have no quarrel with them. Others are failed stage magicians with ridiculous egos who force their name onto everything and are just as full of shit as some of the people they "investigate" "scientifically", despite not being a scientist or having any scientific credentials or training. I have a quarrel with them. You know where I'm going with this.

That's great you found a place among similar-minded people, but why on earth do you spend so much time disrupting the lives of others who are not similar-minded and don't want to be. Also, stop lumping people into generic groups; you're not a sociologist. There's probably some dick reading this right now with a BA in sociology saying, "Actually, I am," with a smirk. Fuck off. These armchair experts are not as intelligent as the people they idolize, or even the people they are rallying against, and it's proven by the fact that if they were, they'd have better things to do than to go on the offensive against a bunch of people who want to believe in a spoon-bending Israeli. You don't believe in him. Okay, move along and do something productive with your life.

Notable skeptic, James Randi.

Angry Owls

I'm scrapping the usual Friday segment, because it's not very popular, I personally don't care that much about turning people on to obscure psychedelic music that wasn't very popular to begin with, and who the hell wants to write about that on a Friday? Not me. Instead, I'll try and bring you some interesting owls. You heard that right. Owls are really creepy, and even creepier is that fact that so many people are becoming obsessed with them. 
My mom had one hanging in our kitchen made out of macrame, which I have no clue what that is, but I assume it has to do with how it's made and not the material. Anyway, it hung high, above the stove on the wall and my sister used to call it the Woolly Booger, or something stupid (and years after used to make fun of me for calling elephants skelephants.) I like owls, too, especially that angry owl video on Youtube. Here it is; you cannot un-see or hear:

Changes (Again)

Going to be making some changes to my blog, since it's starting to feel more restrictive than a pair of briefs. I'm not a fan of that when ti comes to creativity, let alone outpouring whatever I want to into blog format. I'll keep some of the more focused blogs that are fun, but sometimes when I'm logging in and start writing, I want to write about something else entirely, yet I'm forced to do something specifically designated for that day. Lame. Look for changes to roll out really soon. 

Random dog picture.

Coffin Birth

Coffin birth is not a subject for the squeamish. Basically, a woman dies, while pregnant, and something, usually decomposition, forces her to expel the fetus of her child. For the most part, all tales of babies being born in actual coffins are bullshit, especially with today's burial practices. However, there are a few interesting cases of it happening, albeit not in a coffin. One of them took place in India, where a woman, 8 months pregnant, couldn't find the will to go on anymore and hung herself. The contractions, having already started prior to the incident, continued long enough to force the baby out and it lived. Not trying to make light of this, as I found it to be exceptionally grim, term aside, but I figured I might as well pass it on. 

Coffin Birth Wiki

Target.com Won’t Ship to Kentucky

I got on their website the other day because someone wanted something and it clearly said it was available online, as well as being reduced in price because of something. I thought to myself, that’s a really cheap price and I’ve seen it sell for two and three times that on eBay. The lady wants it; I’m going to buy it for her. I made an account, because no real man has a Target.com account, and then I put the item in my shopping cart and had it delivered to me. Only a warning popped up that said, “We’re sorry, but we’re dumb, and you can’t have that item shipped to you for no real reason.” Okay, it actually did list a reason and it’s really stupid (and wrong.) “This item can’t be delivered to Kentucky!” Uh, why, because it’s a state in the Union where the majority of everything this side of the entire country ships through? That’s the stupidest response I’ve ever received. Luckily, I assumed it was simply because I had it going to a PO Box and not a street address, changed it, and it worked, but their reason for not initially being able to ship it made me more or less pissed off at them. 

You can't make stupid up.

Arcade Games

Some friends of mine brought up the question of what arcade games do you remember the most. I remembered a ton of them, apparently, and figured I would briefly discuss them here on Game Monday, which rightly sounds like gay Monday when spoken, because we were all happy shoving quarters in the slots back then.
The first arcade game I ever played was Commando at Mike's corner-store a block behind my house. I was pretty good at it, for being so young. I distinctly remember my dad giving in and handing me a quarter. He expected me to die quick, but the ADHD was a gift back then and I could move around the screen for awhile, as my dad sat there talking to the owner. I'd finally die and we'd head back home. Dodging bullets and grenades while mowing down the enemy was such a blast back then.
Then there was the pizza place (Pizza Town, I think) where I got to be the Conan-esque Rastan, or Shinobi the ninja. Both of these games bring back awesome memories. Rastan had a certain creepiness to it, from the music, to that one scene where you get chained to the wall and have to fight off bad guys. Shinobi was so fast paced for the time that it made the old King Fu movies look lame in comparison. You could order a hoagie and play games. No complaints.
Next we went to another corner store we called Barb's, after the owner. They never changed games much, but I do remember Choplifter, where you went into enemy territory to rescue I think POWs, armed only with a helicoptor, before having to return to base. Also, they had Karate Champ, which everyone should be familiar with, since it only had knobs and no buttons. I distinctly remember taking on Ray Jackson and Frank Dux and beating both of them before they invited me to the Kumite, where I was disqualified.
But the granddaddy of them all was the actual arcade at the Florence Mall called Tilt. So many games were played there, but the most memorable ones were Gauntlet, Magic Sword, Smash TV, and of course, Mercs. I distinctly remember beating the latter, because the mercs drove off into the sunset in a jeep, with one of them sitting in the back relaxing as they drove away. It was an amazing time. 

Stress, Anxiety, and Depression

These things can haunt your life, and often do mine. Recently, I've been under it a lot. Writing often helps, even if it's just a tidbit, but you can always tell when I'm in it or not, when it comes to hammering away on the keys. Aside from my sporadic posting, and the one a day entry that I then have to catch up on in a hurry, I try not to show too many signs. But I never directly talk about what is bothering me, even when blowing minor grievances out or proportion. 
I don't handle stress very well. I know, some people think I do, but I'm very big on trying to be prepared for the future as much as possible. I've come to the realization that no amount of prepping will allow me to tackle doomsday, so I've given up on that. But the stress of uncertainty is the one that gets me the most. You cannot control the actions of those around you, can't read their thoughts, and if you're a guy, you're often oblivious to how someone else is feeeling. I've tried to accept that as well. Financially, you can only prepare so much. Either my dollar is not going as far, or I'm living further outside my means than I thought, and that's really sad. 
When the stress gets turned up a notch, I can handle it, but when there doesn't seem to be an end in sight, or the level doesn't return to normal relatively quick, it gets the best of me. I forget to take my meds, most of which are used to combat ADHD, which increases my level of anxiety. I get lost, confused, forget what time or even day it is, and before I know it, weeks or even months have flown by. Everything together leads to depression, and that reduces your energy levels and sometimes even physically hurts, just to move and get up and do something. 
I know that after awhile, most of this will go away. I'll prepare better for the future, and further down the road I will experience this same exact thing, while wondering how it happened again. I persevere, never truly give up, and hope that people reading this who have no clue what I am experiencing have gained a little insight, and people that have it way worse know that I at least understand the basics of what they go through way more than I.  

Ghost Whisperers

My mother was the oldest of eight children, three girls, and five boys. Their house wasn't really large enough to accommodate all of them, but like all families back then, they made due. My mother always had the same bedroom, by herself for many years, until her middle sister was born seven years later, and then her youngest sister was born three years after that. From the time she was little, something in her bedroom would whisper her name every night. She always assumed it was one of her brothers in the adjacent room messing with her, since it was a male voice, but she never knew for certain.
While vacationing with her youngest sister, who is ten years younger than her, they started to discuss the house and eventually got on the subject of how creepy it was. Then my aunt brought up how every night when she was trying to fall asleep, something would whisper her name. My mother revealed the same, and both thought the other was messing with them. The difference between the two experiences is that when my aunt was hearing this, the only other sibling in the house was her brother, my uncle, who was ten years younger than her, which rules out the mischievous sibling.

The Ghosts - When You're Dead (1970)

This album is a range of heavy to folk psych with a lot of memorable, (sometimes overwhelming, sometimes chill,) songs. Some of the songs, ironically, have a very haunting quality, like you're on another plane of existence, or they're performed by the dead. Heavy guitar, heavy organ, nice thumbing base, and both male and female vocals round this one out. This is one of my favorite albums. 

Yo App

Some jerkoff just made a million dollars off an app that says, "Yo?"
Yes, investors have given him that cash because the app, which he made while taking a dump in the bathroom, is nice and simple. This is as bad as those apps that are really just hyperlinks and connect you to a website. The fact that people made money off of them was insulting enough. I would make a STFU app, but it probably already exists and I don't want to even check. 

The app that says it all.

Unethical Human Esperimentation

I was just perusing the eponymous Wikipedia article when I read about Frank Olson. I had heard the story before, but it was a nice refresher. Basically, he was a scientist working for the CIA who was given a wicked dose of LSD, which caused him to hallucinate, go crazy, and then throw himself from a building. Or he was murdered. The CIA was quiet about it because they were testing on the rest of the populace. This is why you don't trust your government and you turn to people like Jesse Ventura for your news.

Human Experimentation Wiki
Frank Olson Wiki
MKULTRA Wiki
Jesse Ventura Wiki

Nobody Cares About World Cup

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Lana Del Rey

I've been a long time fan. I know, it's the last thing most people would expect me to admit to and it's not a joke. I've often said I'm obsessed with her like a gay man is Marilyn Monroe, or Judy Garland, etc. Her new album comes out tomorrow, and while I normally show a lot of restrain when giving into consumerism, I did buy her deluxe edition, as well as the special Urban Outfitters exclusive version. Yeah, I don't even shop there. But I like cruising around at night and listening to her music. It relaxes me. Deal with it.

Islamic State in Iraq and Syria

I'll admit that I don't know much about war as far as it concerns politicians. I'll admit even further that the current state of affairs here in my own country make things even more confusing, since we've had nothing but untrustworthy politicians in office since before I can remember. Iraq is a country divided by primitive hatred along ethnic and religious lines. Sure, not everyone there is like that, but certainly the ones with the guns and willing to murder and die for those beliefs. If I believed we were there to help people, it would be one thing.
But if the United States wants to go to war in another country, because it is raising gas prices by ten cents a gallon, then I'll stick my neck out and say it: I have no problem paying that much extra for gas if it keeps is out of another war, especially ones we cannot win. There were no weapons of mass destruction and these countries were only a threat to us because we keep putting our nose where it doesn't belong. You cannot force America on the rest of the world and if they want to be like America, it would only take the population deciding to. Grow the fuck up.

The Russian Sleep Experiment

Russian researchers kept five people awake for fifteen days back in the 1940's as part of an experiment. They were kept in isolation from the researchers, who listened to them via microphone. Everything was fine for the first five days, aside from their conversations taking a darker turn. Then after nine days, they started going crazy and screaming, and a couple of them smeared their feces on paper and covered the windows. After twelve days, this story starts getting really ridiculous and unbelievable, because it is fiction.    
For whatever reason, this story made it beyond the creepy pasta stages and started popping up on paranormal websites. While I get that these sites ten to post claims and nothing else, anyone who took the time to read at least the first half of the story should have detected that it was less believable the further it went on, and even a simple internet search would yield no credible sources, aside from ones saying it is fiction. What the hell, man?

Andromeda

Right after recording a studio project as The Five Day Week Straw People (which also rules), the three members went on to form Andromeda, yet another awesome psych band, which put out one album before disbanding. Here is their first album, followed by outtakes, etc. for 2 and a half hours.