Lisa Roberts

I’ve never been much of a John Wayne guy. I also never condoned the idea of cowboys shooting at Indians for no particular reason other than to be dicks. So why then would the western genre interest me enough to almost write a story about called Tombstone Technique? Because everything, and I do mean everything, can be made better…with magic! Cowboys shooting magic bullets at each other and Indians firing lightning arrows at their attackers. Bank robberies being done with shadowy skull staves and ten-pace shootouts being done with bone wands. My idea of a western story would be a sick hybrid of A Million Ways to Die in the West, Diablo II: Lord of Destruction, and Harry Potter.

That’s where Deputy Lisa Roberts comes in. You want to know where I got the name Lisa Roberts from? I stole it from NCIS: Los Angeles. It was a cover name used by Kensi Blye when she was going undercover as a warehouse thief. Actually, that’s an episode I’d rather forget, because it ends with Kensi getting punched in the jaw to the point where she can’t chew her food.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have the time or patience to expand Tombstone Technique beyond a genre hodgepodge and a roster of names. That means of course we have a lot of work to do when it comes to developing Lisa Roberts. And no, the word “development” has nothing to do with her breasts, you sick freak. It simply means we know nothing about her. She’s a clean slate and we need a piece of chalk to create art.

First and foremost, I want Lisa Roberts to be tough and sexy at the same time. I want her to rock a pair of jean shorts and to kick the balls of any man perverted enough to stare at her legs. I want her to have a revolver in one hand and a skull wand in the other. Whenever she has assholes on both sides of her, she can pump some lead into one side and shoot lightning bolts, bone spears, poison daggers, and fireballs on the other. But what if she got the crazy idea of imbuing her bullets with magical powers? Fireball bullets. Lightning bullets. Ice bullets. How about bullets that contain all three of those mystic elements? I have to fan myself off for a minute and it has nothing to do with the summer weather.

But of course, if I made Lisa Roberts into a male fantasy sex machine, she wouldn’t do well with the female members of my audience (unless they were lesbians, but chances are, they’re not). What kind of likeable qualities could we give this woman to make her stand out as a super heroine of the wild west? Toughness, as I’ve said earlier, will go a long way in giving her popularity. A silver tongue might also do wonders for her. A take-no-shit attitude will sure as hell give her some staying power. I’m liking Lisa already! She reminds me of Wonder Woman!

It’s funny, because just a few weeks ago at the WSS Contest and Company group on Good Reads, I confessed to everybody that I didn’t know how to make likeable characters, that I just threw everything together willy-nilly. I’m still doing that with Lisa Roberts. The difference is, if I want Lisa to become the fully-developed badass she’s destined to be, I can’t put her in a short story contest entry. She has to go through a whole journey that can only be told within a full-length novel. And unlike most characters in my novels, Lisa Roberts will live to see the next novel, should she be a popular hit with my audience. She’s a survivor, damn it! Put her in the move “The Purge” and she’ll still come out smelling like roses and gunpowder!

　

***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“My wife Stacy is good at getting heel heat with the crowd at wrestling shows. Hell, she gets heat with me around the house.”

-Jim Cornette-

"My Friends" by Red Hot Chili Peppers

“My friends are so depressed, I feel the question of your loneliness. ‘Cause I’ll be by your side. You know I will. You know I will…” The ideal scenario for this unusually depressing Red Hot Chili Peppers song is this: you have multiple friends who are in some kind of slump they can’t get out of on their own. They make an internet post asking for help, but you’re incapable of providing that help either because of preexisting financial burdens or a lengthy distance between you and your friends. When you can’t share your resources with your friends, you try to share words of wisdom. Your oratory of love falls on deaf ears, so the most you can provide to your friends is a hug or a kiss.

I’ve been on the other side of a friend’s depressing circumstances before. I don’t make a lot of money, I don’t drive a car, and I’m not particularly wise, so the best thing I can offer these friends is a hug or a pat on the head. My incapability of helping people is the reason why I’m not a psychology major today. I thought about doing a cinema and psychology double major when I was taking college classes, but due to the fact that my “advice” didn’t register with the people I talked to, I opted to do a single major instead, obviously dropping psychology. I’m embarrassed to say this, but I’m full of more shit than Dr. Phil when it comes to giving emotional advice.

Maybe instead of stretching myself beyond my means to help those who need more than I have, I could just recommend this Red Hot Chili Peppers song to them. When somebody needs a good cry, “My Friends” is the ultimate song to go to for that stream of tears. In fact, I’d even dare say this song should be included in the soundtrack for either “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” or “Love Letters to the Dead”. The emotions run that deep within these alternative rock chords.

Would this method of “help” work within my writing? That’s kind of iffy. In my writing, I wouldn’t have any characters who were beyond help or redemption. If I did have a character who was like that, then finding a solution for that character’s sadness would be next to impossible. I can’t find solutions for my own friends, so why would I be able to find them for my fictional characters? And don’t give me that shit about how it’s fiction and I can bend my world any way I want. Yes, the fictional genre gives me a lot of leeway, but it still has to be believable. Even if I was writing dark fantasy, the emotions have to be real or else nobody’s going to buy into the things I’m selling.

So if you’re feeling down in the dumps and nobody can help you, sad music is a good place to turn to. Music doesn’t judge you. It may dictate its own message, but as long as the music flows through your soul and gets a reaction out of you, that message will never come off as judgmental. Take it from me: I’m a liberal who listens to Five Finger Death Punch and an atheist who listens to Skillet.

But as far as “My Friends” by Red Hot Chili Peppers goes, Anthony Kiedis will do all of the talking when he sings these words to you. But if you need someone to listen to your sorrows, then the power of your imagination can mix with the song’s message to create pure nirvana within your soul. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, go to You Tube and find this song. You’ll be glad you did. Or sad, depending on how many tears drop from your face afterwards.

　

***COMMERCIAL QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Failure IS an option, because in order to get better, you’re going to make mistakes.”

-Nameless Pizza Chef from a Domino’s Ad-

"Love Letters to the Dead" by Ava Dellaira

Before I get started with the body of this review, I want to personally thank Stephen Chbosky for recommending this book to me. I still to this day don’t know if it was a chain letter or a personal note, but in any case, I still want to express my gratitude to him. “Love Letters to the Dead” often drew comparisons to “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” due to the themes of growing up, nostalgia, soulful music, and also due to the letter style in which both novels are written. After reading both books, I decided not to rank one before the other, because like family, they both have a special place in my heart.

This particular novel centers around Laurel, a high school student with a broken family made even more distant by the passing of her older sister May. There are so many secrets surrounding May’s death that it takes an entire novel to unravel them. And when they finally do get unraveled, there are a lot of waterworks involved, which means PTSD was involved. What kinds of secrets would cause somebody to develop traumatic memories? That’s for you to find out, my friend.

And during your quest to solve the mystery of May’s death, take some time to digest the fact that these chapters are written in the form of letters to dead celebrities such as Kurt Cobain, Amelia Earhart, Amy Winehouse, River Phoenix, and many others that had a huge impact o Laurel’s life. It started out as a simple English assignment: write a letter to a famous dead person. Laurel wrote one to Kurt Cobain, but never handed it in. Instead, the one assignment evolved into an entire notebook of letters to various celebrities chronicling Laurel’s heartaches, triumphs, traumas, tragedies, and ultimately resolutions.

I will admit that reading these letters really put a timestamp on how old Laurel really is. In other words, she writes and talks like a typical teenager. There are even times when she attempts to use a clever metaphor, but it backfires into something that only makes marginal sense. However, these are flaws I am very easily able to forgive for the sake of a beautiful and heart-wrenching story. Imagine that: me, an English major, forgiving a strange writing style. It’s something I would have done anyways even if this book was assigned to me in either college or high school.

While “Love Letters to the Dead” didn’t bring me to tears like “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” almost did, I’m crying on the inside for Laurel and I hope she goes on to do great things in her life. I feel the same way about her friends and family, who have also proven to be three-dimensional in their own special way throughout the book. People on Good Reads like to take shots at this book for being “immature” and having “cookie cutter characters”. While it was amusing to see two people named Tristan and Kristen, I have to disagree with those cheap shots. This is a wonderful book for anybody who recently spent over $100 on Kleenex.

　

***TELEVISION QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“You’re not in love with him. You’re in love with what you want him to be.”

-Dr. Phil-

Cameron Gillespie

Is there really any way a 6’1” African-American woman can cut enough weight before a big MMA fight in order to conform to the flyweight division’s 125 lb. standard? Does it even matter that this same woman has pumpkin-sized muscles and the longest reach of any female fighter in history?

Every time Cameron Gillespie gets in the cage, she might as well be playing with a GI Joe in there. She’s only been defeated twice in her career and both of those losses were due to controversial split decisions. But those are just two matches. You want to know how many times Miss Gillespie won? Twenty, all of those victories being obtained either by KO or TKO. Bottom line: this woman is a killing machine and can make the bantamweight limit just as easily as she regularly makes the flyweight limit so miraculously. Hint, hint, wink, wink.

So why is it that I refuse to let this wrecking ball of a woman be a part of American Darkness 1 or 2? Because the story she was a part of didn’t do her justice at all. She was originally part of a short story where she only had one page worth of action and the actions she took were despicable enough to make her an unredeemable villain.

The story was called “It’s a Joke” and was supposed to be an MMA romance between struggling heavyweight fighter Finn Cosgrave and basically a Ronda Rousey parody named Zelda Lee. I thought I was being revolutionary by creating an MMA romance, because not many authors do it. Turns out there’s a reason for that: because there’s no love in war, only pain.

That pain came when Zelda Lee was forced into a fight with Cameron Gillespie, who towered over her like…well…a bell tower! Zelda landed a beautiful takedown and hand Cameron on her back in defensive mode. Zelda then put her hands on the mat to engage Cameron in a ground game. That’s where shit went south in a hurry.

Did you know there’s a rule against kicking somebody in the face while that person is in a kneeling position? If Zelda would have survived the kick to the face from Cameron, the New Orleans-born giant would have been either disqualified or deducted two points at least. Zelda didn’t survive. She was pronounced dead by the referee.

For whatever reason, I decided to have Cameron Gillespie show no remorse for her actions and not go to jail for this “accident”. Zelda Lee was the first person in MMA history to die during a fight and the sport looks even worse than it did before after Cameron Gillespie’s heinous behavior.

That’s not the road I want Cameron to go down. I see a lot of potential in this character and I want her to have the best role I could possibly give a jolly black giant like her. I know that if I include “It’s a Joke” in American Darkness 2, that book will get a low rating and few buys.

I’m not saying I want Cameron Gillespie to be a heroic warrior, but I also don’t want her to be a monster from the depths of hell. What kind of role could she have? A harsh trainer? A drill instructor? How about an incumbent world champion who’s deemed a villain because she’s held the title for so long? Maybe, just maybe she could be the world’s tallest voodoo priest. Can you imagine being that fucking huge and having magical powers to go with your awesome body? It’s overkill, but it’s an overkill people can easily accept.

Please accept Cameron Gillespie into your hearts and imaginations, ladies and gentlemen. Don’t let her become a stereotypical clerk at the DMV. Don’t let her be a stereotypical gangster woman either. I want this character to have substance, and that substance isn’t cocaine or heroin. And before you ask, no, it isn’t steroids either.

　

***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“I dare Ahmed Johnson to say ‘Mother Smucker’ ten times fast.”

-Jerry “The King” Lawler-

"Chalk Outline" by Three Days Grace

When you leave your mark on this world, what will it be in the form of? Will it be a painting that hangs proudly on the museum walls? Will it be a piece of fan fiction on Deviant Art? Will it be stone sculpture in the middle of a water park where dogs and children play? Or will you be a chalk outline on the sidewalk waiting for the rain to wash it away? If you’ve heard the song “Chalk Outline” by Three Days Grace, you know exactly where this is coming from.

Some people are still walking and breathing and yet they feel like chalk outlines anyways. They’re stressed out at work, bored with their relationships, and tired of their general routines. If this scenario makes you feel like a chalk outline, it may be time to try something new. After all, Einstein always said the true definition of insanity is doing the same thing every day and expecting different results.

You don’t necessarily have to be an artist or a celebrity of any kind in order to make an impression on this world. Sometimes giving other people something to think about is enough. Even the smallest act of kindness can be the difference between life or death in the mind of another person. Let’s say you buy a homeless man a cup of coffee and a donut. You think that homeless man will judge you for being a chalk outline? It’s hard to do that with a mouthful of dough and sugar. That spike in his blood cholesterol may have improved his mood to where he actually forgot he was dealt a crappy hand.

What about a panting dog trapped in a car during the summertime blues? You think he’ll be grateful if you smash the car window and get him out of that boiling cauldron of a vehicle? How about a barista who’s working a nine to five position at the coffee bar at Barnes & Noble. You think she’ll be grateful for generous tips after her paychecks don’t even break the minimum wage limit? Maybe you’re in a relationship with a girl who’s feeling self-conscious about how a dress is making her look “fat”. You think she’d appreciate it if you told her she looked fantastic? Maybe even sexy?

People like to downplay themselves as being chalk outlines despite the random acts of kindness they commit and it’s unfortunate they do that. They believe memories will eventually fade when the person gets older and Alzheimer’s kicks in. That’s a myth and a half. I don’t care how old you are, because if somebody gives you an adrenaline shot of happiness, you’re probably going to use that memory to replace any bad memories that are haunting your mind like a traumatic ghost.

This may not be the exact message Adam Gontier was thinking of when he wrote this song for Three Days Grace. But just like with any piece of art, the audience is free to interpret it any way they want. That’s why Good Reads authors are encouraged not to explain themselves to people who gave them one or two-star reviews. Even those who absorb the media have the right to be free from the thought police’s brutality. I’m not saying Adam Gontier would ever do that to his fans, I’m just talking in general terms.

I do wish Mr. Gontier good luck in his solo career. I don’t necessarily agree with his decision to leave Three Days Grace since he was such an influential member. But who am I to tell him he’s wrong? If he needs to get away from the group for a while and focus on himself, he’s going to do that without repercussions. Sometimes a permanent sabbatical is just what the doctor ordered. Isn’t that right, CM Punk?

　

***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“If you don’t win the NXT World Title, you won’t be known as Tyson Kidd. You’ll be known as Natalya’s husband.”

-Michael Cole-

Wade Bryan

When you combine the names of WWE wrestlers Wade Barrett and Daniel Bryan and make a Dungeons & Dragons character named Wade Bryan, you’d better make him into a serious badass. He can’t just look good carrying a two-handed sword and dressed in 100-lb. metal armor; he has to look and fight like a war god. He may be a level one human fighter, but back in 2010 when my D&D output was particularly high, he was my level one human fighter. He’s Wade Bryan, damn it, and every time he kicks the bad guys’ asses, everyone gathers around him for flash photography. Wait a minute…flash photography in a medieval fantasy game? How can that be?

In order to grow up to be a kick-ass fighter, you have to be battletested both mentally and physically. That means growing up with a dark past few people gather the inner strength to talk about. For Wade, that was easy. He grew up on a farm with lots of cute animals. He petted chickens, rolled around with pigs, patted the cows on their heads, basically, he was one happy kid whose joyful nature couldn’t be tainted by anything. That is, anything except for learning about what eventually happens to these cute animals on the farm. Wade Bryan wasn’t just shocked by learning these animals were eventually slaughtered; he was traumatized and disgusted.

Upon seeing a row of cow corpses in the slaughterhouse, Wade’s childhood was ruined. He ran away from home with his cousin Chris and decided to pilfer vegetables off of other people’s farms. He and Chris made a pact together to never eat a single bite of meat, eggs, cheese, or any other animal byproducts for the rest of their shattered and war-torn lives. Being a vegan was easy for Wade, because every time a piece of steak would touch his lips, he would get violently ill from the trauma he experienced as a kid. Since he and Chris were close, Chris sympathized with Wade to where he too would get sick at the thought of meat.

Stealing vegetables wasn’t the best way to survive in farm territory, so when Wade and Chris were old enough, they joined the National Guard under the tutelage of the ultra-tough Zell Jardine. Zell put them through hell, and no, I’m not trying to be cute by saying that. The training consisted of constant aerobic and combat exercises with Zell’s piercing screams blasting in the trainees’ ears. It got bad enough for some people that they quit after the first few days. Wade and Chris, on the other hand, graduated with honors and eventually became best friends with Zell Jardine. Funny how that works out.

When Wade Bryan was introduced to the Dungeons & Dragons scenario, he was part of a government program called The Bodyguard System. The Mayor of Middlesex (the main town of the game), Shawn Simms, would grant the services of a high ranking bodyguard to whoever helped his city in any way, shape, or form. The main characters of the game, Darthania Galveston and Brutus Warcry, protected Shawn Simms from various criminal gangs, so they got the services of Wade Bryan. The rest, they say, is history. Wade wasn’t just a government employee, he was also a fuck buddy for the female characters of the game. But that’s a story for another day, probably in a future publication called Fifty Wades of Grey. I’m kidding. Maybe. I don’t know.

　

***PROVERB OF THE DAY***

“What you do to your children, they will do to the world.”

-Unknown-

"Rebellion" by CFO$

For my 29^th birthday, my sister-in-law turned platonic life partner Susan got me a Roku device, which is basically an on-demand service for my TV. One of the things I downloaded with this Roku was the WWE Network and one of the shows I watch on the WWE Network is NXT, where superstars put on kick-ass matches until they’re called to the main WWE roster to perform on Raw or Smackdown. Two of those wrestlers who brutalize their opponents and climb the ladder of success are Konnor and Viktor, better known as The Ascension.

Every WWE superstar and diva needs their own entrance music to psych them up before a big match. Those entrance themes are created by CFO$. So what kind of music do you give two barbarians like Konnor and Viktor, who both have bodies of Greek titans and the rage of jungle beasts? In order to match their primitive aggression, you need music that is equally aggressive and hard-hitting. That’s where the CFO$ song “Rebellion” comes in.

If you’re standing in the opposite corner from The Ascension and you hear “Rebellion” in all of its heavy metal double bass drum glory playing, you’d better be wearing a diaper. Those two barbarians aren’t there to magic tricks or put on a ballet recital. Konnor and Viktor are there for one reason: to rip their opponents to pieces like a pack of rabid wolves on a wounded deer. You talk about meat on the table? That’s cute, because in order to feed The Ascension’s appetite for blood and flesh, you’d need an entire meat truck full of juicy morsels.

Listening to badass heavy metal music and watching The Ascension in action is very inspiring for an author like me who uses anger and aggression in his writing. Along with Diablo II, this NXT tag team has restored my faith in the barbarian’s ways. Eat, sleep, rage, repeat. I too wish to have characters in my story who emulate this violent lifestyle. I’m already trying to do that with Deus and Diva Shadowheart and their Fireball Nightmare story. I’ve already done it with short stories in my Dragon Machinegun e-book. I will do it again with Dragon Machinegun 2: Reload.

The barbaric tribes are hungry and there’s so much tender flesh for them to consume. To quote Ryback before he turned heel in the WWE, feed me more! And who cares about forks and knives when you’ve got an oversized battleaxe in either hand. Or a morning star. Or a sword. Or a spear. Or maybe even the NXT Tag Team Championship belts. Either way, somebody is having lunch today and it’s going to be delicious!

　

***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Everything I say goes right over Michael Cole’s head. It’s like throwing a Frisbee to a guy sitting down.”

-John “Bradshaw” Layfield-

Gryace

In the WWE, there’s no shortage of wrestlers with one name: Cesaro, Rusev, Ryback, Stardust, Kane, Fernando, Diego, aw, fuck it, I’ve made my point. While Gryace may not have a future in a real world company, he did have a future once upon a time at Play By Web. Remember Play By Web? The place I got kicked out of? Gryace is one of the characters I’ve salvaged from there.

Gryace was invented during the time where I was transitioning between the usernames Zeal and Undertaker. If you’d like plain English, my character was active while I was arguing with the entire PBW roster over my ability to enjoy porn despite my young age. Naturally, this flamboyant martial artist didn’t get much time to shine.

While I don’t remember the name of the game he was a part of, I can tell you that the game was basically arena combat where magic and creativity were highly encouraged. In fact, the admin of that group specifically said that if anybody had a problem with magic use, those people would be kicked out of the group altogether since closed-mindedness wasn’t allowed.

Gryace didn’t have any magic powers. But he did have martial arts skills that were so powerful and so flashy, even videogames like Street Fighter and Tekken wouldn’t be able to contain him. He didn’t just kick his opponents; he kicked them while doing a hundred summersaults, fifteen tuck-and-rolls, and twenty triple axles. This guy defied gravity with every punch and kick he threw. Maybe he didn’t need a plane ticket to get to his next venue. He could just kick somebody in the ribs in America and end up in Japan in less than a minute.

Because of his ability to tell gravity to go fuck itself and his hard-hitting style in general, Gryace didn’t need magical powers. In fact, if he tried to go Dragon Ball Z on his opponents and throw a Kamehameha wave, he could be an astronaut also in less than a minute. Is there life on other planets? If you give Gryace magic powers, he would be the first to tell you.

How could a young martial artist with a world of potential be so downplayed when it mattered most? Because at the time, I was 16 years old and my writing abilities weren’t nearly as developed as they are now. In order to win any matches in this game, you couldn’t just be a good writer; you had to be a literary badass. While I thought highly of myself and believed in my own abilities at the time, it didn’t mean anyone else agreed with my massive ego. Gryace was destroyed by his magic-wielding opponent in record time. Will we see Gryace again? If I ever have another story where kicking ass is important, you’re damn right you’re going to see him again.

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Even through the darkest days, this fire burns always.”

-Killswitch Engage singing “This Fire Burns”-

"Outro" by Limp Bizkit

“I’m here to tell you why the new Limp Bizkit album is so important. That’s because CD’s like this one spare you from all the chart-topping, teeny-bopping, disposable happy horseshit that brings up the bile from the back of my neck. I have no time or tolerance for those shitty whack acts like that. I wouldn’t piss on their CD’s to put out a fire.”

If you’re fortunate enough to own the Significant Other album by Limp Bizkit, you know about this gem of a rant at the end the CD by Matt Pinfield. In his words, we need some rock and we need something that has balls. Now, just imagine for a minute if you were an author and somebody gave you the kind of praise that Matt Pinfield gave to Limp Bizkit. Wouldn’t you like to be known as an author who spares people from disposable happy horseshit? I’d jump at the opportunity in a heartbeat.

But that can’t always happen. After all, authors aren’t known for being as aggressive as heavy metal bands when it comes to their craft. Let’s take Stephen King for instance. Everybody knows how brutal he can be when he puts his mind to it. He’s even brutal in his criticism of Twilight by Stephanie Meyer. But you have to admit that Stephen King’s aggression and Fred Durst’s aggression are two very different things. Authors have a quiet rage that settles down once pen is put to paper. Musicians and singers? They just scream it out until they’re mentally and physically exhausted.

When it comes to my writing, I will admit to being just as laidback and mellow as any other author. Yes, I can get down and dirty with the best of them, but there’s a reason why I’m not on stage right now strumming the hell out of an electric guitar. Aside from the obvious reason that I can’t play guitar, I don’t have the kind of aggression it takes to be in a metal band. I hardly even like it when I go to a concert and some rowdy asshole is yelling in the most obnoxious tone possible.

However, if you’re a literary critic and you feel like giving my e-books Matt Pinfield-style praise, I wouldn’t be against it. In fact, I would be grinning for the rest of my life. Deus Shadowheart and Dr. Scott Cain already have reputations of being literary badasses, even when their new home (Fireball Nightmare) is still under construction. If Deus heard that he spared people from disposable happy horseshit even during his most emotional moments, he would scream like the heavy metal freak he was meant to be.

Readers and heavy metal fans are two different groups of people. And yet, I represent both sides of the fence. I just might…you know…bring them together! Actually, no, I won’t. Alice Cooper, Max Cavalera, and Rex Brown have already done that with their published memoirs. Phil Anselmo will do it too once his book comes out in 2015. I’m not much of a fearless leader, but if Phil Anselmo and Max Cavalera bring me to the promised land, I will follow them every step of the way. Same thing goes for Fred Durst and Matt Pinfield.

　

***INTERNET DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

JAY HOWARD: Now come on, own up. Who really wrote “Sitka the Nose Biter”?

ME: I did, Jay-Pie.

JAY HOWARD: No blood and gore, explosions, or shootings? Not even poison? What happened to you while I was gone?!

The Play By Webbers (Zeal, The Undertaker, Chakko, and Natron)

During my tenure at Playbyweb.com, I have assumed four different identities (not at the same time, though). The first of these was Zeal, a 16-year-old porn addict who raged against the machine and lost. The second was The Undertaker, a slightly less offensive version of Zeal, but still only a temporary fix since my schizophrenia made it harder for me to role-play. When I turned 18, I came back from my sabbatical from the site under the name Chakko. I raged against the machine over stupid age limits and lost once more. And finally, when I created Natron in an attempt to be diplomatic, my peaceful ways were shut down and that was the last time I set foot on Play By Web’s hostile territory.

Four different usernames, four different agendas. It would be a shame to let these guys go to waste. So I had the brilliant idea of making characters out of them. Although, if I wanted to use The Undertaker, I’d have to fight an uphill legal battle with WWE over the name and to that I say hell no. That’s like a pigmy warrior going up against an army of Greek titans. So now we’re down to three characters: Zeal, Chakko, and Natron.

What could I possibly do with these three? I know! Let’s make them teenagers in a dystopian hellhole who want access to porn! Yes, that’s what I was fighting for back in March of 2002: the right to view porn despite my young age. I may have argued that I was only two years below the benchmark of 18 and two years makes zero difference. I may have also argued that there was no real reason for my adult opponents to keep me from doing whatever the hell I want. The way I saw it, only a hardcore religious zealot would ever object to me masturbating to porn.

Therefore, when I construct a group of antagonists for Zeal, Chakko, and Natron to face off against, they will be paladins. They will wear heavy suits of armor and carry flails that can turn skulls into blood bombs with one smack. And just like in Diablo II: Lord of Destruction, these zealous paladins will have auras to give them magical powers. Do the three teenagers feel overwhelmed yet? That’s exactly how I felt when I argued with the entire website over my personal freedom: overwhelmed and traumatized.

In order to combat these heavy-handed head smashers, Zeal, Chakko, and Natron will have to be smooth and slick as they move about the dystopian city in search of good porn. Their official character classes will have to be somewhere between a rogue and a wizard, maybe both. They can sneak up on their opponents and stab them with magically energized daggers. They can steal smaller weapons and imbue them with lightning or fire. My only limit is my imagination. It should be known by now that porn enthusiasts have vast imaginations, hint, hint, wink, wink.

　

***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“You know that scene in As Good As It Gets where Jack Nicholson tells his girlfriend, ‘You make me want to be a better person.’? You know how often that happens? Never.”

-Bill Maher-

"Robot Boy" by Linkin Park

“You say you’re not going to fight ‘cause no one will fight for you.” This is the opening line to “Robot Boy” and every time I hear it, it stays true. Even though I live a passive life, I’m still an independent author and I still have my own battles to fight. I’m fighting for a steady payday, recognition, immortalization, and most importantly, love and friendship. Even the simplest of these list items seems like an uphill confrontation. Though it seems like I have allies in these struggles, help seems so far away.

Then again, the music of Linkin Park has always documented the band’s uphill struggles. Chester Bennington has his own family trauma to contend with. Mike Shinoda fights for his Japanese culture, especially since his father was interned in 1942. These two lead vocalists speak for everybody when they’re fighting the good fight. Is it any wonder why they have such a strong fan base?

I don’t know exactly which path Linkin Park took in order to become the voice of the voiceless. I don’t want to say they got lucky, because that would be disrespectful of the way they became successful musicians. I too wish to be a voice of the voiceless, but as you can plainly see, I only live vicariously through Chester and Mike. I have some fame, but not enough for people to listen to what I have to say. Self-published e-books and blogs will only go so far. And when the path to success is buried underneath mounds of dirt, it becomes hard to tell where you are.

“Someday the weight of the world will give you the strength to go.” The weight of the world represents the burdens us artists must bear on our path to the top. Constant weightlifting builds muscle. Our worldly burdens will therefore make us stronger for the experience. If nothing else, they give us creative fuel so that our wells don’t run dry too soon.

I hope this song and the story of Linkin Park in general can be creative fuel to my readers as these things have been to me. Despite my passive lifestyle, I can still throw a powerful punch to every demon that opposes me. I may not throw many punches, but one of these days, my one powerful shot will earn me a knockout victory over the forces working against me. Then and only then will I be able to rest peacefully myself. I’m leaving my mark on the world one way or another. Whether it’s in the form of a black eye or a warm hug remains to be seen.

　

***PROVERB OF THE DAY***

“The true definition of insanity is doing the same thing every day and expecting different results.”

-Albert Einstein-