Jesus Fucking Christ! No Really, He's Here! He's Risen! And He's Not Happy!

 

Marcelis Galvani, Religious Scammer from "Jumping for Jesus"

 

Jenna Moreci vs. Franklin Graham: a 2018 Fantasy Novel vs. a Jesus Christ Fan Fiction

 

Angel's Share

The rift between Alex Macintosh and her so-called “lord and savior” grew with every bigoted slur that came out of a preacher’s mouth. It was already a yawning chasm from an early age. Now it was a dark black hole that sucked all of the life out of her. Going to church wasn’t as fun as she remembered it being. The fairytales weren’t as fascinating. The loving spirit wasn’t as warm. Everything in this mega church full of enthusiastic worshippers revolved around money these days.

How much money could Pastor Shawn Hawkins swindle out of his followers? How much of it would actually go to the poor? How much of it would fund his vacation in Neo Hawaii? The deeper Alex dug into his bank account, the more obvious the answers became. There she was in a shadowy corner of the church tapping away on her smart phone and thumb drive. Her dark trench coat and equally dark scarf around her face made hiding in the shadows that much easier. It also helped matters that the thousands of people packing the arena were too busy praying for things they’d never get on their own.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” shouted a young man into the microphone. His voice temporarily jarred Alex out of her hack job, but ultimately she thought nothing of it and went back to work. “Put your hands together for the messenger of God himself! The angel from the heavens above! The warrior of worship! The preacher of perfection! Here he is: Pastor Shawn Hawkins!”

The raucous clapping and lurching from the congregation once again snapped Alex out of her work. They were so obnoxious with their zeal that she failed to concentrate on what was most important: getting Pastor Hawkins’s ill-gotten fortunes back into the hands of those who needed it. Just a few more bars of code…just a few more clicks…”Damn it!” she whispered to herself. She quickly covered her mouth considering where she was saying it, but still nobody paid attention to her.

As the audience clapped and some of them did back flips and cartwheels in the audience, Pastor Shawn Hawkins descended from the ceiling dressed in flowing red robes. He really was an angel from heaven with his feathery wings gently flapping and lowering him to the stage. “I’ve seen better wings on a plate of KFC,” murmured Alex as she struggled to focus on her hack job.

The raven-haired, thick-bearded Pastor yanked the microphone out of his hype man’s hand and motioned for his congregation to sit down and shut up, which they gladly did. Alex couldn’t believe the smiles on their faces, the tears in their eyes…and the dollar bills folded up in their hands. “Here we go…” she muttered.

Taking a karate stance in the center of the stage, Pastor Hawkins belted his sermon into the microphone like a heavy metal singer moonlighting as a fat-shaming fitness guru. “Sinners! All of them! Each and every damned soul outside of this church today will have no such access to the pearly gates! They choose not to come here and choose not to give their welfare money to the heavens above! They are vile! They are rotten! For every penny they pinch, they are keeping the Christian revolution from taking place! That will not happen on my watch! Can I get an amen?!”

“Amen!” said everybody not named Alex Macintosh, who still thumbed away on her smart phone, still chipping away at Shawn’s bank account.

Pointing his hairy finger out into the crowd, he shouted, “You see that?! The sinners and nonbelievers call that fanaticism, but I call it reality! God is your reality! This world we’ve created for ourselves inside this church is the only thing that’s real to us now! Forget the vegetable-munching hippies! Forget the rock and roll niggers! Forget the transgender fags! They hold no power of us!”

That last slur had Alex’s eyes watering with rage as she looked up from her screen to unleash a hellish look upon her tormentor. He couldn’t see her even as he flapped his wings and floated around the church, but she saw him with tunnel vision, so much so that she forgot to keep cracking the code. She wanted so much to rip his tongue out, but also knew that Shawn Hawkins was a martial arts expert and often used his trade to intimidate “sinners” into giving him money.

“I fly around this room today and I see heavenly beauty!” As if right on cue, congregation members grinned up at him and held out their wads of cash. “You’re not just giving me your hard-earned money. You’re buying something with your dollars. You’re buying a revolution! You’re buying paradise! You’re buying a weapon against the darkness of hell!”

Alex shook her head and got right back to work cracking the code. Pastor Hawkins’s words began to blend together in a cacophony of screaming and prejudice, so much so that Alex didn’t even notice him flapping directly above her until she saw his reflection in her screen. “Come on, damn it!” she whispered as she grew closer to cracking his password.

“Who said that?! Who in God’s good name said that in my church?!” roared Shawn. Alex dropped her phone in panic and almost shattered the screen. She crab-walked against the wall in an attempt to hide from her accuser. She even held her knees to her chest to make herself small. But there he was descending upon her, the flaps of his wings creating deafening whooshes, the anger on his reddening face palpable and tense.

“Come to me, harlot,” said Shawn as he held out his hand. Alex couldn’t. She was frozen in fear. “I said come to me, you devil’s whore!” He stomped over to her and her phone crunched beneath his army boots. The congregation stared at her with wide-eyed shock while Shawn picked up the remains of the phone and instantly deciphered what Alex was trying to do.

“It appears we have a thief in our midst, my children. Stealing is a sin! Stealing from the lord is a MORTAL SIN!” Shawn stared hellfire into Alex’s soul and she could do nothing but cower in the corner and shiver. He ripped off her scarf and revealed another “sin” to the congregation. The blond hair extensions, the white makeup, the poorly smudged blue lipstick, they all led him to one conclusion. “Transgender whore!”

Alex could feel the boos and “Whore!” chants radiating off the congregation and piercing her skin like daggers. She tried to stand up, but her legs were too wobbly and her head was swimming laps around this church. She eventually found her equilibrium by holding onto a stair railing. “Please!” she begged in a low, trembling voice. “Just let me go…I’ll never bother you again…it’s just that I…”

“Silence!” barked Shawn as he punched a hole in the wall next to her head, causing her to trip over her own quaking fear. She couldn’t even crawl down the stairs without Shawn placing his boot across her ankle. The harder he pressed, the louder she screamed. “You dare steal from a house of worship?! You dare steal from the lord almighty?! That is inexcusable! I shall send you to hell myself, you filthy whore!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, just take my flash drive and take your foot off of me!” She blindly chucked the flash drive at him hoping he would catch it. However, her heart and brain pumped her with so many chemicals that she miscalculated how hard she threw it. It bounced off of one of his feathers and exposed wiring underneath. The hacking properties of the device caused even more sparks to shoot out of what was now revealed as his mechanism. The congregation gasped in shock while Shawn’s hardened facial expression grew soft with worry. He even took his foot off of Alex’s leg.

Trying to regain her breath, Alex pointed at the fake mechanical wings and said, “You see that, everyone? He’s not even a real angel. His money isn’t being used for a Christian revolution! He fooled you all! Thou shalt not bear false witness, anyone? He tricked you all into becoming bigots! He tricked you all into giving away your money to what will eventually be his expensive vacation! If you don’t believe me, look on that flash drive! Look on whatever’s left of my phone! The more you hate people like me and the other so-called ‘fags’, the richer he becomes and the poorer you all become!”

Shawn kneeled down beside his victim and smiled at her. “Don’t you get it by now? These people don’t care about any of that. They don’t care about you. Did they care when our president said he would grab a certain part of the female anatomy? No. Did they care when a certain Supreme Court justice was accused of doing much worse to said anatomy? No. These people know who the real enemy is and who their friends really are. They want entry into heaven. They know they’re not going to get it by listening to a transgender thief whore like you!”

“Is…is this true, everyone?” asked Alex. Her answer came in the form of angry stares from the congregation, not at the one swindling them, but at the one they were told to hate. Their hatred hurt her badly. She could feel her heart racing and her mind numbing to the violence that would become of her very shortly.

Shawn slowly stalked Alex as she crawled down the staircase. As soon as she moved too fast for everyone’s comfort, the congregation and their Pastor charged after her in a screaming rage. She almost tripped over her fear again when she tried to get up, but this time she bolted out of the emergency exit and set off a blaring fire alarm. Fire sprinkles set off even more sparks on Shawn’s mechanical wings and his congregation crawled on top of him to put out the electrical storm. Alex used this distraction to dash down the street, her legs trembling and aching the whole way.

She ran until she couldn’t do so anymore. Her lungs burned, her heart exploded, and her eyes dripped with wetness as she hunched over on the street corner. “How could they not care?!” she mumbled unintelligibly. “How could they not fucking care!” She stomped her high heeled boot on the ground and broke said heel in the process. “Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it!”

“Excuse me, Miss!” said a homeless man with sunglasses. “Can you spare me some change?”

How about that? He actually said the right gender prefix. But such a small victory was nothing to celebrate as Alex wiped away burning tears from her reddened face. “I don’t have a dime,” she confessed. After a silence hung between them, she pointed at the mega church and said, “But they do. Why don’t you go ask them yourself?” Alex walked away hoping at least one person got the message she was trying to send.

"Preacher, Vol. 9: Alamo" by Garth Ennis

BOOK TITLE: Preacher, Vol. 9: Alamo

AUTHOR: Garth Ennis

YEAR: 2001

GENRE: Graphic Novel

SUBGENRE: Horror

GRADE: Extra Credit

Jesse Custer’s search for God, the Grail’s mission to bring Armageddon to earth, the Patron Saint of Killer’s obsession with revenge, and Cassidy’s quest for redemption, they’ve all come together for one last battle at the Alamo. It’s an appropriate battlefield considering the history behind such a famous stronghold. Bodies will pile up, deals will be brokered with spiritual entities, and everybody will get what they deserve in the end for better or worse.

The reason I’m giving this issue of Preacher a full five stars has to do with the ending and how no loose ends are left untied. While I won’t say what exactly happened (because of spoilers and all), I will say that the letters written to the main characters had my eyes dewy for a moment there. Will the letters mend broken relationships? Will the subsequent conversations bring Jesse, Cassidy, and Tulip the peace they need? Is life more complicated than just saying sorry? Indeed it is. Life is about changing and developing as you grow older, much like the stories themselves. Life is about becoming more than a one-dimensional stereotype. Every character in this graphic novel played their parts perfectly. Whether you love certain characters or hate them, there’s no denying they’ve earned not only their places in this story, but also their endings.

Which brings me to God almighty, the reason for the world’s chaotic destruction and the reason for Jesse Custer’s misery. He’s not portrayed as some fictional entity that haunts the minds of his followers. He’s portrayed as an actual god who demands love from the world and will go to devious lengths to get it. He needs to be put down just like any other despicable villain in this story. Is his portrayal controversial? Maybe to some people. But to me and every other fan of this comic book series, it was about time someone said these things about our lord and savior. Garth Ennis probably got a lot of hate mail in his day and he couldn’t care less. Offensiveness is his bread and butter and he put it to good use. Garth Ennis doesn’t even do it for the sake of shock value. He actually created an entertaining and thought-provoking story from all of the bloody and blasphemous moments. That’s what all R-rated authors should aspire to do.

This was a wonderful way to end the Preacher series and I’m glad I stuck through with it. Then again, sticking through with it wasn’t hard to do considering the previous volumes before it were entertaining to the core. It’s not often I give a five-star review, especially when entertainment is the only thing a book has going for it. I’m giving the final volume my strongest endorsement because of all of the emotions it made me feel as it got closer to the end. I cared about the characters. I cared when they got beaten down, killed, or otherwise humiliated. I still care about them even after I’ve finished reading. Congratulations, Garth Ennis, for earning your extra credit grade!

"Preacher, Vol. 8: All Hell's a-Coming" by Garth Ennis

BOOK TITLE: Preacher, Vol. 8: All Hell’s A-Coming

AUTHOR: Garth Ennis

YEAR: 1999

GENRE: Graphic Novel

SUBGENRE: Horror

GRADE: Pass

After six months of drug-induced sex with Cassidy, Tulip O’Haire escapes the devious vampire’s clutches and reunites with the one she truly loves, Reverend Jesse Custer. The two of them clear up their misunderstandings and their relationship becomes stronger for it. Now all that’s left is for Jesse to ask around town about how dark of a past Cassidy truly has. Meanwhile, the Grail still have plans to assassinate Jesse. Plus, a certain disfigured recording artist faces backlash for his “controversial” messages. All of this will come to a head in the ninth and final installment of Preacher. But for now, enjoy this violent appetizer.

When I first started reading this volume, I expected it to suffer from the same problems as its seventh predecessor. I thought it was going to be yet another hackneyed drama with all of the “good stuff” conveniently left out. By the time I got to the horsemeat storyline, I was proven dead wrong. In fact, the way those horses were butchered wasn’t at all “deliciously violent”. It was downright disturbing. While I never like to see animals treated in that way, I do appreciate being unsettled and uncomfortable during a series that prided itself on offensive content. The horse butchers were the villains of that storyline, so watching them get their rightful beatings was well worth the discomfort.

That doesn’t mean I didn’t appreciate the dramatic aspects of this graphic novel. On the contrary, I loved seeing Jesse and Tulip back together again. Not only is their romance a healthy one, but they’re also equal when it comes to beating up the bad guys. They’re both good with guns, they’re both vicious brawlers, and they both do their fair share of rescuing each other. It makes Cassidy look even more disgusting when you realize just what kind of a person he really is. He tried to keep Tulip for himself, but Tulip saw right through the lies and put a bullet through his chest. She’s a keeper, but only for Jesse Custer.

Speaking of our dear friend Cassidy, the way his acquaintances describe him to Jesse is another part of the Preacher series that could be considered disturbing. For the first few editions, he was a fun-loving friend who’d never stab his friends in the back. In this edition, he’s described as a selfish jerk who disrespects women, spends money on drugs, and has no room in his heart for love. I hated Cassidy so much after hearing this that I wanted Jesse to exact his revenge right then and there. But that’s what makes Cassidy such a convincing shades-of-gray villain: he can manipulate his way out of any dangerous situation. He’s the kind of creep you’d see on Dr. Phil’s show. Or Jerry Springer’s show, either one would be fine.

All in all, this was a fun little comic book even though it didn’t have nearly as many of the screwed up moments as its predecessors. I have a feeling we’ll get more of those in the final volume. For what it’s worth, I’m looking forward to that final volume. Will Jesse finally put God in his place? Will Cassidy get the comeuppance he deserves? Will the Grail finally assassinate Jesse in a nuclear fallout showdown? What will become of Tulip if she loses her boyfriend again? I legitimately want to know the answers to these questions and this graphic novel put me in that mood. Another passing grade for you, Garth Ennis!

"Preacher, Vol. 7: Salvation" by Garth Ennis

BOOK TITLE: Preacher, Vol. 7: Salvation

AUTHOR: Garth Ennis

YEAR: 1999

GENRE: Graphic Novel

SUBGENRE: Horror

GRADE: Pass

Feeling betrayed by his girlfriend Tulip and best friend Cassidy, Reverend Jesse Custer searches for meaning in the small town of Salvation, Texas. After fending off an attack against an old friend, he’s unofficially appointed sheriff of Salvation. His first big assignment is to do something about the Quincannon meat-packing family, who have run amok in Salvation with no consequences due to the patriarch Odin constantly paying off judges and officials. Jesse Custer cannot be bought or sold so easily and promises to do right by the people of Salvation.

While this installment of Preacher has its share of messed up moments, it doesn’t feel nearly as messed up as the previous volumes. Sure, there’s Odin’s little secret in the meat-packing plant. Sure, the villains are intolerably racist. But it just didn’t feel like the Preacher of old. Maybe I’ve become numb to it all after the first six volumes. Maybe I missed something along the way. Maybe I need to have this particular story explained to me. In any event, this seems more like a drama-driven story rather than a shock value extravaganza. While shock value doesn’t always mean good storytelling, Garth Ennis normally does it in a way that fits with the story perfectly. Don’t get me wrong, this is still a good story, but it’s just not the same.

But for all of this story’s faults, there’s no denying the heartstring-tugging moments that go along with it. This isn’t much of a spoiler since it happens early enough in the story, but Jesse does reunite with his mother after several decades apart. I won’t say how, but it does happen. And when it happens, tears flow from Christina Custer’s face like a running faucet. I’m sure Jesse cried somewhere during this reunion as well. Volume two was where Jesse’s sadistic upbringing and subsequent kidnapping was turned up to eleven. After enduring all of that trauma and never really recovering from it, Jesse and his mother have earned their tears and hopefully they’ll earn the reader’s tears too. This kind of hopefulness is what a dark and disturbing story needs every once and a while. Not too much of it, but this story had the right amount.

It’s also nice to see the sense of community among the residents of Salvation. It’s a small town, so everybody knows each other. I’ve lived in a small town before, so I know what that’s like. Coming together during a dire time of need is exactly what this town needed to feel credible. For years, Quincannon’s corporation has been terrorizing Salvation and getting away with it. It’s about time the citizens got sick and tired of being harassed. It’s about time they took Jesse Custer seriously as a sheriff. It’s about time they realized how badly they’re being wrecked by corporate interests. A nice little rebellion is what this story desperately needed. That too is heartwarming, probably just as heartwarming as Jesse’s reunion with his mother. I wish more small towns in America would stand up for their rights as much as Salvation ended up doing.

While I would have loved to see a continuation of the love triangle between Jesse, Tulip, and Cassidy (drug-induced hallucinations aside), I’m not giving up hope for that just yet as I have two more volumes to read before the canon is over. This was still an enjoyable volume to read, however. Yes, it didn’t feel as gritty as the previous volumes, but it didn’t have to be in order to earn my seal of approval. Imagine if I expected grittiness from every story I read outside of the Preacher series. That wouldn’t be fair, now would it? How does a passing grade sound, Mr. Ennis?

"Preacher, Vol. 6: War in the Sun" by Garth Ennis

BOOK TITLE: Preacher, Vol. 6: War in the Sun

AUTHOR: Garth Ennis

YEAR: 1998

GENRE: Graphic Novel

SUBGENRE: Horror

GRADE: Pass

Reverend Jesse Custer, Tulip O’Haire, and Cassidy’s search for God continues in the Arizona desert, where the Grail leader Herr Starr and an entire army are waiting for them. Herr Starr’s rise to power within the Grail has been a long time coming, complete with backstabbing, politicking, and rubbing shoulders with the highest authorities. With complete control of this Christian shadow society, Starr’s power hungriness won’t end until Jesse Custer and the Patron Saint of Killers are both finally dead and buried in the desert sands. Will nuclear missiles, tanks, and machineguns be enough for these two powerful entities?

Yes, the Grail is a fictional religious entity that controls all of the world’s governments and corporations. But despite being fictional, their portrayal is brutally honest when it comes to how power is traded across entities. Conspiracy theorists would go nuts with this kind of material. The Grail moves the money, they keep world leaders under their thumbs, and they do it all in the name of God. Ordinary people don’t have access to that kind of power, so all they can do is protest peacefully and most of the time it’s not enough. If you’ve ever thought there was something out there holding you down and keeping you from advancing, this is the comic book for you. It won’t give you the strength you need to carry on, but it’ll be otherwise entertaining and slightly educational.

Another thing I enjoyed about this graphic novel was the continuation of the storyline between Tulip and Cassidy. If you remember from Volume Five (Dixie Fried), a drunken Cassidy confessed his love for Tulip behind Jesse’s back and that made Tulip despise the Irish vampire for it. While I won’t say how this storyline continues (you know, because of spoilers and all), it will reach its climax by the end of the book. Hearts will be broken, anger will be felt, and everybody comes out of it with sadness in their souls. Maybe your own heart will break alongside the three characters.

Of course, I’d be remised if I didn’t mention just how brutal and messed up everything in this comic book is, the violence not being the deadliest among them. Anybody can shoot a tank cannon or drop a missile with the press of a button. But can you dine on flesh like it’s Taco Tuesday? Can you make the strangest requests to prostitutes imaginable? Can you dive into an eight-hundred pound man’s belly and cause him to throw up? Can you stomach the inbreeding that goes on to keep the “true savior’s” blood pure? Can you listen to New Orleans tunes if they’re unintelligibly sung by a teenaged boy with a grossly deformed face? Garth Ennis has a vivid imagination and he’s not afraid to use it when penning copies of Preacher. That’s what I love about his work.

Another awesome volume of Preacher is in the books. Everything that made the previous volumes great is neatly packaged into this one as well. It makes me want to finish the final three volumes, which is what any book should be doing in the first place: making you hunger for more. Preacher is one of my all-time favorite comic book series and for that I’m giving this volume a passing grade. I anticipate more greatness in the volumes to come.

"Preacher, Vol. 5: Dixie Fried" by Garth Ennis

BOOK TITLE: Preacher, Vol. 5: Dixie Fried

AUTHOR: Garth Ennis

YEAR: 1998

GENRE: Graphic Novel

SUBGENRE: Horror

GRADE: Pass

Reverend Jesse Custer, Tulip, and Cassidy venture down to New Orleans to seek help from a voodoo priest. Jesse wants to access the supernatural power within him in an attempt to find God and make him pay for turning the world into a bloody mess. It just so happened to slip Cassidy’s mind that a den of vampires want revenge on him for what the Irishman did to their master several years ago. Graphic violence is the name of the game for these characters and anybody would be lucky to make it out of this story alive, let alone without any gushing injuries.

As someone who never hits on women, I enjoyed the subplot where Cassidy drunkenly confesses his love for Tulip despite the fact that she’s loyal to Jesse instead. Alcohol or not, it paints Cassidy as a shady pervert who could be easily ousted to Jesse for what he did. The idea that this is even a secret is enough to make me want to read more. You know sooner or later the secret might come out. When it does, a whole powder keg of emotions will destroy the otherwise solid friendship between Cassidy and Jesse. Does the secret actually come out in this volume or will it be saved for a later issue? Maybe. Maybe not. I guess you’ll never know, because I don’t give spoilers beyond the basic synopsis.

Another thing I like about this issue of Preacher is the wisecracking dialogue peppered throughout. Yes, it’s raunchy and vulgar, but the author can write the dialogue without coming off as a teenager trying to be edgy. I would advise my writer friends not to try and duplicate what Garth Ennis has written. Coming from his pen, the dialogue is gritty and rough. Coming from anybody less experienced, it sounds sloppy and awkward. I don’t want to give away any of the dialogue in this review lest I break the PG barrier. Yep. It’s that dirty…and I love it!

And of course, where would the Preacher series be without the delicious violence to go with all of this nasty dialogue? Decapitations, mutilations, gunshot wounds, sex-themed attacks, and vampires burning in the sunlight: what lovely guilty pleasures! But the violence isn’t superficial at all. There’s a deeper plot beneath it all and none of that gets lost in the shuffle. We’re talking about a minister on a revenge mission against God himself. Of course there’s going to be some wild and wacky violence. Of course there’s going to be some three-dimensional storytelling. If all you wanted was violence alone, you could just watch a UFC pay-per-view. Word of advice, Dana White: don’t allow Jesse Custer on any one of your cards. While we’re at it, let’s keep Cassidy and Tulip away from the cage as well.

The fifth volume of Preacher is a satisfying read that makes me want to finish the series. I must know what happens with Cassidy’s secret. I must enjoy more crass language and violence. I must see what happens when Jesse finally confronts God for a battle of epic proportions. A passing grade will go to this exciting graphic novel!

Anyone But You

VERSE 1

We could have had a friendly debate

One without judgment or even hate

But you attacked everything about me

You’re a predator with an ego to feed

Build yourself up, knock me down

Like you’re wearing a fucking crown

I’ll spread my wings, fly into the blue

Anyone but you, jerk, anyone but you!

VERSE 2

We could have had a nice dinner date

Ice cream and sex after finishing our plates

But you made me fear for my own safety

That’s why I haven’t been flirty lately

Your soft touch makes my blood go cold

You believe my body is yours to hold

Your so-called love was never even true

Anyone but you, babe, anyone but you!

VERSE 3

You could have taught me a new skill

I wouldn’t have minded the tuition bill

But you marked me with C’s, D’s, and F’s

The midterms hadn’t even started yet

Convince me that I’m mediocre at best

All because I couldn’t pass your test

Class dismissed, nothing more to prove

Anyone but you, prof, anyone but you!

VERSE 4

Dirty bastards come from all walks of life

They don’t always carry a gun or a knife

All they need is just a little bit of power

To turn good people into screaming cowards

Playing with your brain and with your heart

Until you want to rip your fucking skin apart

Whenever she tells you that love is blue

All you have to say is, “Anyone but you!”

VERSE 5

A dead cockroach would be just as friendly

As any role model who plays a better enemy

As any stranger who lacks true empathy

As any troll who laughs at you with anonymity

As any friend who stabs you in the front and back

As any lover who leaves you with eyes so black

As any preacher who thinks his bullshit is true

Anyone but you, fucker, anyone but you!

Jim Cornette's Name Test

***JIM CORNETTE’S NAME TEST***

Another blog entry about wrestling? Well, not entirely, though Jim Cornette is one of wrestling’s most recognizable personalities. This blog has a little bit more of a universal appeal since it’s about character names. Whether the genre is wrestling, fantasy, sci-fi, or even contemporary, you want your characters to have good-sounding names. A guy named Michael Hickenbottom doesn’t stand a chance in the limelight. But Shawn Michaels? Why, that’s Hall of Fame-worthy.

Here’s how the name test works. You have two opponents, the protagonist and the antagonist. When you say their names and stick the word “versus” in between them, you want it to sound like it could be a big deal. Examples from wrestling that could pass the name test include Ric Flair vs. The Undertaker. Sounds exciting, doesn’t it? Makes you want to know more about this conflict. Ricky “The Dragon” Steamboat vs. “Macho Man” Randy Savage. That also sounds exciting.

And like I said at the top of the journal, this logic could apply to any two sets of people. Harry Potter vs. Voldemort sounds as magical as its canon suggests. It makes you want to read the books or watch the movies, so you’ll spend top dollar to know how that story ends. Lion-O vs. Mummra also has a mystical aura to it, which makes sense coming from a cartoon called The Thundercats. Goku vs. Freiza has a martial arts feel to it. Mario vs. Bowser sounds like something that would happen in a comically mischievous world.

As much as I don’t want to toot my own horn, I’m going to use examples from my own stories to show that I’m following Jim Cornette’s advice to a fault. I’m currently writing a high school drama called Silent Warrior, so there better be a positive name test result to back up such a hot title. Scott George vs. Tom Simpson? Well, it doesn’t sound like much on the surface, but if you shortened their names to just their family names, it sounds like a Supreme Court case. George vs. Simpson? I’d say that has a Supreme Court ring to it, which is funny because chapter eighteen features a criminal case against Mr. George.

And then you have examples that not only fail the name test, but fail them on an epic scale. The Undertaker sounds like a creepy enough name on its own, but not when his opponent is named Stinky McFarts or Chilly McFreeze. Ever wonder why you never saw a main event WWE match in the 1990’s between Doink the Clown and Bastion Booger? Look at the names of those two individuals and run them through the test. Epic fucking fail!

As much as I hate to admit it, one of my back-burner novel ideas fails the name test as well. Booger the Clown vs. The Orc King. There’s nothing wrong with The Orc King. In fact, it sounds rather intimidating. But when you pair him up with a guy named Booger the Clown, you can see how the story gets dragged down by guffaws of laughter. Then again, Booger is supposed to be an ironic name to begin with considering the character is a depressed, suicidal marine who moonlights as a birthday clown and can only feel happy when he’s listening to violent gangster rap.

If you’re an author penning the next bestseller, take your naming system seriously and make sure the final conflict doesn’t feature Nut Sack McGee vs. Penis Breaker III. Of course, no self respecting author would ever do that to his or her own product, but it’s worth pointing out anyways. You want to know what sounds like a spellbinding feud? Reverend Jesse Custer vs. God. A lot of whacky shit takes place in Preacher, including that same feud I just mentioned. I don’t know much about the TV show, but I’ve read volumes one through four of the graphic novels. It’s every bit as fucked up as the feud sounds.

So that’s all I have for you today. Don’t forget to tip your waitresses and leave online reviews for your favorite indy authors. I’m Garrison Kelly and I’ll see you next time! But before I leave, now that we’re on a wrestling-related topic, yes, I will do a blog entry about 2017’s Most Disgusting Promotional Tactics as awarded by the Wrestling Observer Newsletter. My love for shocking the shit out of my audience hasn’t waned a bit. And goddamn, we’ve had some good ones this year! Bye!

***LEGAL QUESTION***

For the next chapter of Silent Warrior, I’m planning on having Scott George rushed to the hospital to be treated for anxiety and malnutrition. I’m not sure if court cases actually work like this, but I was thinking about having the trial broadcast to Scott’s room via satellite so that he can at least know what the hell’s going on. Would a court actually do that or do they just wait for the suspect to stand trial? You don’t have to be a member of the bar association to answer this; you just have to know more about it than I do.

***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Accept who you are…unless you’re a serial killer.”

-Ellen DeGeneres-

"Preacher, Vol. 4" by Garth Ennis

BOOK TITLE: Preacher, Vol. 4: Ancient History

AUTHOR: Garth Ennis

YEAR: 1998

GENRE: Graphic Novel

SUBGENRE: Horror

GRADE: Pass

Three tales of bloodshed, three glimpses into the pasts of the famous Preacher characters we know today. The Saint of Killers started off as a wild west bounty hunter with a heart so cold he brought snowy weather to Texas (that’s not a clever joke, that’s a fact). Arse-Face’s was a disenfranchised teenager constantly bullied at school and abused by his corrupt cop father. The Good Old Boys Jody and TC were swamp fighters who stumbled upon a gang of mercenaries trying to recover a blackmail tape from a cop and a smoking hot lawyer. Nobody is safe in these homicidal stories. What doesn’t kill them will leave a scar.

The level of violence in these stories is maximum tier, maybe even beyond that if it’s humanly possible. It’s more than just splattering blood across the scenery. It’s more than just broken bones and squishy organs. It’s psychological torture. It’s reliving those horrific scenes for the rest of your life (however long that may be). Maybe if you’re lucky, your brain will explode in this hurricane of violence and you can be spared from this maddening torture. But then there’s always the possibility of living with a sadistic devil or a corrupt god. In which case, the bloodshed and brutality will come full circle long before you’re ready to be reincarnated and have it happen to you all over again.

Unfortunately, this kind of horrific display is also applicable to innocent animals that’ve done nothing wrong. The animal cruelty in this graphic novel is easily the hardest to stomach while the violence to humans is at least sick and twisted fun. Whether it’s Gumbo McCready’s gang shooting horses, Pube shooting a yappy dog, or Jody beating the hell out of a confused gorilla with a baseball bat, your heart will sink so far down it’ll think it’s in the ninth circle of hell. While the animal deaths are a true representation of how screwed up life can be, it doesn’t make them easier to read about, much less physically see on the pages of a graphic novel. Thank goodness for the ASPCA, which I donate to every month.

Just as alarming is the way in which Arse-Face is treated throughout his story. He’s constantly beaten by his father, beaten by the students at school, and rejected pretty much everywhere else he goes, and this is all before his face became permanently disfigured. His only escape in life is through his punk rocker best friend Pube, who happened to be the one to shoot the yappy dog with a shotgun. Not much of an escape, huh? If I had to live that screwed up of a life in Texas, I too would want to find solace in even the most horrible people while smoking marijuana until the end of time. Disturbing as hell, yet the most poignant of the three stories, especially considering how Kurt Cobain’s suicide played a role in Pube and Arse-Face’s decision-making.

Preacher, Vol. 4 is equal parts heartbreak and violent fun. The delightfully vulgar dialogue sets it all up with perfection and can be another entertaining part of the graphic novel, even with Saddam Hopper and his inability to swear properly. Garth Ennis knocks it out of the park yet again with these Preacher graphic novels. He probably needs many years of therapy, but it’ll be worth it if he continues pumping out awesomely violent fiction like this. How does a passing grade sound to all of you?

The Golden Angel

The Golden Angel sat hunched over on a tree stump with a fiery look in his wild eyes. His bright yellow spandex, his dazzling angel wings, his flowing blond locks, they were part of an image that was all for nothing. He kicked a stone across the dirt into a nearby lake as he thought about what Pastor Jane had said over those airwaves. All of those homophobic slurs, every suggestion of violence, every invocation of hellfire and brimstone for the LGBT community, they caused his blood to boil like a witch’s cauldron. He kicked even more stones into the lake, every shot more aggressive than the last. Goldie even pounded the side of the stump with his fist and sat there in his grumpy state.

Normally the sounds of a woman screaming for help would send Goldie into an adrenaline fueled frenzy in an attempt to be the daring superhero he once was. With super strength and the power of flight, he could have won those fights in record time. But all he did was place a fist under his chin and stew angrily. The woman’s screams were more ear-piercing by the second and Goldie’s indifference turned to irritation. “What the hell’s going on around here?” he asked rhetorically.

Sure enough, a woman in gray sweatpants and a cyan hooded sweatshirt came screaming like hell as she leapt into the Golden Angel’s hulking arms. “Help me!” she cried. “He’s after me! The Dark Paladin is after me! He wants to give me his demon baby! Dear God, help me!”

Behind the drenched tears and bubbling snot of sorrow, Goldie recognized that face as clear as day: Mia Jane, the pastor’s twenty-something daughter. Same long black hair, same dimpled face, same gray eyes, and the same silver crucifix around her neck. Goldie glared at her before dumping her on the ground and causing her to crab walk backwards into another stump. “You’ve got some serious balls asking for my help, Miss Jane. Oh wait a minute, I forgot, women can’t have balls because that’s just an excuse to shower with little girls in the locker room. That is what your father said on the radio the other day, right?”

“Listen, Goldie, I’m begging you, please!” said Mia on her knees with her hands together prayer-style. “I’m sorry for everything my dad said about you and your…people. But you have to help me!”

“My people? What do I look like to you, a fucking alien?!” snapped Goldie as he shot up to his feet. “You think gay people like me are invaders from another planet? Oh wait a minute, they’re just Satan’s creations, which is something else your genius dad said.” He approached her with more muscle in his step. “You know what else he said? He was the one who outed me on national television! He’s the reason I’m hiding out here! What good is being a superhero if I can’t live in the fucking city where all the nasty shit is going on?! In fact, how do I even know The Dark Paladin is out here?! I didn’t hear him at all!”

“He’s here, Goldie. I saw him chase me. You have to believe me!” said Mia through a stream of tears not unlike the one rolling through the forest. “I was out here on my morning run and he flew right in front of me. He said he wanted to…” Her sentence was interrupted by an even bigger storm of tears.

Goldie’s furrowed eyebrows straightened when he knelt beside Mia and placed his pink gloved hand on her shoulder. “I desperately want to be a superhero again. But as long as your dad is spreading his ignorant bullshit around, nobody will let me in. The gay bar has been burned to the ground, transgender folks are being lynched, and I’m just another piece of this puzzle. If I wasn’t for my powers, I’d be a dead motherfucker by now. Just another footnote in Paulson City history. Just another body freezing at the morgue.”

“You’re more than that,” sobbed Mia. “You were an inspiration to us all. And now you’re just going to throw it all away because your feelings got hurt?”

Goldie’s hand slowly traveled up the back of her neck before he grabbed a handful of hair and snapped, “This is more than just emotions! People are dying! People are being beaten! They’re being tortured because of your father’s work! You’re damn right my feelings are hurt! But I bet you’ll be the quintessential tough bitch when it’s a member of your family that has to suffer through the torture!”

Trying to steady her chattering teeth from both the cold morning air and her sorrow, Mia said, “People are dying anyways because you’re out here doing nothing! You’re too good for them! Not everyone in the city is like my father!”

“But you are, Mia. I know you are,” whispered Goldie angrily. “You hang on his every word. You claim to be about love and honor while casting aside those who dare to be different, those who dare to be themselves. I’ve seen a million of your kind come and go, but I’d never thought you’d give up on your city’s only superhero just because you don’t like the fact that I fuck men!”

Mia’s brow furrowed as she smacked away Goldie’s clutch on her hair. “Who’s giving up on who?”

The two of them shared a moment of intense glares when the Golden Angel was blasted off his feet and into the creek, suffering a burn mark on his chest. Mia Jane screamed in horror once again and kept Goldie conscious long enough for him to pull his face out of the water to take in the view of The Dark Paladin. There he was with bulging red muscles, black metal armor, devilish horns, and yellow fangs dripping with the blood and flesh of a forest critter, potentially a squirrel.

“Miss Jane, I personally want to thank you for leading me to the Golden Angel. This couldn’t have been more perfect!” chuckled the Dark Paladin in a throaty voice.

Goldie glared evilly at Mia and whispered, “You bitch! This better not be true!”

“It’s not true! I would never do that! He’s lying!” yelled Mia. “I didn’t even know you were out here!”

“Bullshit!” roared Goldie as he leapt to his feet and took to the skies with his flapping angel wings. Every time Dark Paladin’s eyes radiated with red energy and he shot another scorching beam, Goldie would punch and kick them away like they were dodge balls. Having had enough of the demon’s laughter, the angel zoomed down upon him and threw heavy fists against his already contorted face.

Not one punch cracked bones or loosened teeth. “Is that the best you can do?” Darkie taunted. “Why don’t you try slapping me on the ass instead, lover boy?!” After throwing a mock kiss Goldie’s way, the superhero kneed Darkie in the balls and doubled him over, but only got another throaty laugh for his efforts. “Shouldn’t you take me out to dinner first?”

Dark Paladin attempted an ear clap, but Goldie ducted down and threw rapid fire punches against his stomach, each of them more powerful than the last, some of them cracking the metal armor, but not ribs like he intended. Goldie military pressed the Dark Paladin in the air and slammed him down against a gigantic stone, crumbling it into powder. The demon refused to sell his pain and instead gave a wicked grin.

“I’d say you fight like a sissy, but that’d be a little redundant, don’t you think?” said Darkie with a wink before throwing a knee against Goldie’s ribs and sending him rolling into the creek once more.

Mia Jane shouted, “No!” and ran by her would-be hero’s side. “Are you okay? Please be okay! I never wanted this to happen!”

“Get off of me!” shouted Goldie as he stood back up and attempted to dive bomb Darkie again with flying fists and feet. Instead all he got was a head butt to the skull upon landing. Dark Paladin grabbed the Golden Angel by his shin and twirled him so around so powerfully that the resulting whirlwind took Mia off her feet. Darkie slammed his nemesis against multiple trees and shattered them into beauty bark before tossing Goldie’s limp body on the ground, bloody and bruised.

Mia crab walked backwards in a shaky attempt to get away from the stalking Dark Paladin, who grunted at her, “Time to get my jollies, little lady! You’re giving birth to my child whether you want to or not! Don’t even bother going to one of those special clinics afterwards. Daddy dearest wouldn’t approve!” The last sentence was accentuated with a wink before the Dark Paladin dropped his metal pants and revealed not only his worm-infested meat, but also a familiar crucifix tattoo on his shin.

“D…Dad? Is that you? No…no, it can’t be! That’s impossible! You can’t be the Dark Paladin!” cried Mia while pounding the leaves on the ground with her fists.

“That’s right, honey! The Golden Angel ain’t going to help you this time! Not that he ever would, the little coward! Open wide, sweetheart!”

The Golden Angel’s vision was stained with blood and pieces of dirt, but he was conscious long enough to hear the entire conversation. It all made perfect sense to him now why Mia’s demonic father wanted to get rid of him. All the propaganda. All the lies. All the hate. Every one of the newly minted Dark Paladin’s dangerous words haunted Goldie’s mind like schizophrenic voices. Every time he said faggot, queer, or hell in the same sentence lit a hellish flame inside Goldie’s belly, a flame that burned brighter than the bloody pain he was feeling.

He watched Mia Jane crouch on the ground and close her legs as tightly as possible. He watched Dark Paladin’s rotten meat get harder and larger with every close step he took. The more Goldie watched, the more his heart was ready to explode in a volcanic burst. His eyes welled up with hot tears, his blood burned like acid, and his head pounded with a sledgehammer’s fury. He saw red for more reasons than Dark Paladin’s skin and the blood in his eyes.

In one swift motion ignorant of pain, Goldie flapped his wings and buzzed over to the Dark Paladin with a sharp stone in his hand. Before the demon knew what hit him, Goldie smashed the flat stone against Darkie’s groin and sliced off his monstrous genitals. Screaming agony and bloody fountains aside, no genitals meant no demonic birth, and no demonic birth meant the Dark Paladin’s plans for world conquest were ruined.

“You haven’t won shit, Golden Angel! I’ll see you in hell yet!” snarled the Dark Paladin before elbowing Goldie in the chest and sending him rolling backwards. With blood pumping out of the demon at a rapid rate, Darkie held his wound and flew away, dropping pus, maggots, and redness onto the ground below him. Mia Jane had been saved…for now.

The grateful preacher’s daughter, still bubbling with tears and snot, crawled quickly towards the downed Golden Angel and hugged him tightly, unintentionally aggravating his bloody wounds. “Thank you, Goldie! Thank you so much! I’m so sorry everything happened the way it did!”

Groaning painfully, Goldie wiped the blood off of his mouth and said, “Don’t be sorry, Mia. This isn’t over by a long shot. He’ll come back stronger than ever and we have to be ready.”

Mia gently stroked Goldie’s battered chest and said, “I’ll tell everyone the truth. The whole city will know who my father really is. I promise I will undo the damage he has done! This is not the loving priest I know! This is a monster!”

“You? You’re going to bring the people of Paulson City together? You’re going to end the hatred?!” scoffed Goldie. The two of them shared an intense stare together before the superhero said, “You’d better do it, Mia. You’re going to use your loudest voice possible. All that hellfire and brimstone crap? You’re going to use it to end this senselessness. You’re going to be the voice for positive change. You’re going to be the voice of the voiceless. Are you ready for that shit?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Goldie. Ready as I’ll ever be!” said Mia as she wiped the tears and snot from her face with her sweater sleeve.

Dayton Spoke Choir

The ethereal beauty of the choir’s voices haunted Detective Matt McQueen’s mind like a schizophrenic voice. He felt as though he was being lovingly pulled into the center of this heavenly sound, but kept his pistol drawn knowing this was the calm before the storm. He already ventured into the unknown by looking for clues in this dense forest. Every once and a while a spider would land on him and he’d get chills running down his spine before swatting the arachnids away. Those voices. So innocent. So magnificent. They couldn’t have been older than the single digits. What were small children doing all the way out in this secluded nightmare?

Matt took a massive gulp of saliva and wiped the sweat off of his forehead when he found the source of the voices: a broken down church covered in foliage and insects. Another plunge into the unknown. With every one of Detective McQueen’s steps, the choir grew louder and more haunting. His finger tightly wrapped around the trigger, the cop slowly advanced toward the front entrance, which was guarded with little else than a cracked wooden door barely on its hinges. It wasn’t so much the robust structure that kept city folks away; it was the creepiness of it all.

Matt’s eyebrows furrowed and his goateed mouth curled into a dark frown as he kicked down the front door and stormed in on the church screaming, “Freeze! Paulson City Police!” His all-business attitude softened into creeped out jitters when he saw what was inside. He lowered his weapon and asked, “What the fuck?!” He was careful not to drop the pistol, but with his shaky hands, it almost happened.

The children’s choir’s lovely voices were tainted by blue jumpsuits and putty-faced masks with blood dripping down from their mouth and eye holes. Each and every one of them had puppet strings attached to their ankles and wrists, strings that lifted their arms in conformist salute when prompted by their leader.

“Matthew, Matthew, Matthew! It’s so good to see you again. Perhaps you’d like to sing some hymns with us.” Detective McQueen quickly turned around with his pistol aimed at the source of the creepily sensual voice: Reverend Laguna Pearman. No longer was he the trusted member of the Paulson City religious community. No longer was he a donor to the poor and an educator of children. All that remained of Reverend Pearman was a wicked smile and a black choir robe with his fingers tapping together playfully.

“Laguna…I trusted you!” shrieked Matt before bull rushing the preacher and slamming him against the wooden wall. Even with the barrel of Matt’s pistol planted firmly in his jaw line, Laguna’s smile never faded. “I went to your sermons every Sunday. I let my child around you. And this is what you’ve been doing this whole time?! Where’s Caylee?! She better be in here or I’ll blast your fucking head clean off your shoulders!”

“Daddy, no!” shouted a little girl from the choir, who came flying toward her father on puppet strings before clamping around his legs tightly. “Daddy, please don’t kill him! He’s going to take us to heaven to see God! This is our mission!”

“You heard her, Detective. Caylee is much happier here than she was at home. She’s not your child anymore. She belongs to Jesus Christ now,” said Laguna, still not wiping that smug grin off his slender face.

“Shut up, you snaky piece of shit!” yelled Matt before pistol whipping Laguna’s breakable face repeatedly. Caylee begged and pleaded with her father while pounding on his legs with those tiny child hands. The rest of the choir levitated in on their puppet strings to pull Matt off of their “master”. By the time the detective was being held on the ground, Laguna’s visage was covered in blood and bone splinters.

“My face…my beautiful face…how could you do this to me? How could you do this to the face of God?!” sobbed Laguna as he dropped to his knees clutching his shattered mug. While some children held a struggling Matt to the ground, others circled around Laguna and hugged him tightly while crying drops of pink tears.

“Is this what you call leadership?!” bellowed Matt. “This guy’s not your master! He’s not anyone’s master! He’s a false prophet with a child fetish and he needs to be locked up forever!”

“Don’t talk that way about my new daddy!” shouted Caylee with tears running down her masked face.

Matt’s own eyes were sore and swollen from the sorrow of watching his daughter being ripped away from him by this monster. Detective McQueen’s heart felt like it was being put through a juicer. His stomach felt like he’d taken a liver kick from an MMA champion. “Caylee, please don’t say those things,” begged Matt with all of his soul.

“I hate you, Dad! I hate you! I belong to God now!” shrilled Caylee with her fists at her side.

“Oh, Matthew, don’t you ever get sick of questioning things you don’t understand?” asked the bloodied Laguna Pearman rhetorically. “Don’t you ever get sick of taking my name in vain? You should be. It’s a mortal sin after all. And you know how we punish sinners in my church, don’t you?” That last line was punctuated by Laguna gently rubbing his calloused hand across Caylee’s trembling back.

“Don’t touch my daughter!” roared Matt as he struggled even harder to free himself from the choir’s grips.

Laguna spit out some teeth before he reached down for Matt’s gun (which he dropped on the floor earlier) and pointed the weapon at the wiggly detective. “Looks like your beautiful daughter isn’t the only one who belongs to God now. Rest in peace, Detective McQueen!” Matt wiggled his foot free and kicked Laguna in the ankle, causing his gun blast to accidentally strike one of his pupils in the chest. The false prophet along with his choir watched in horror as the child clutched his wound and bled all over the floor, dying a slow and painful death.

“No…no, no, no! Why, God?! Why would you take this innocent child from me?!” shouted Laguna as he dropped to his knees and shook his fists to the sky. “We’ve done so much for you! We’ve done everything we could to make you happy! Why, my lord! Why?!”

The shocked children’s grips were loosened by this sudden turn of events and Matt shoved them off to earn his freedom. He spear tackled Laguna to the ground and wrestled the gun out of the preacher’s hands. Despite the knee-bending pleas from the choir, Matt unloaded all six rounds into Laguna’s already shattered face, spreading his brains and skull all over the wooden church floor. Caylee shouted, “No!” as she watched the preacher’s blood run down a tiny crack in the floor.

What started out as a kidnapping investigation turned into a full-on massacre for Matt McQueen. His hands trembled as he held his now unloaded gun still in Laguna’s splattered face. The cop slowly climbed to his feet and finally holstered his weapon when the realization set in at what he’d done. Still shaky, yet firm to the core, Matt declared, “Alright, kids. It’s time to go home to your parents. This investigation’s over. Enough with the Halloween bullshit. Take your masks off and load up in the van outside.”

With their puppet strings loosened and their heads hung low, the children, Caylee included, removed their putty-faced masks. When they lifted their heads again, Matt’s newfound resolve shattered into trembling fear. Their faces were even bloodier than Laguna’s was. Their frowns were contorted beyond their natural limits. Some of their teeth and eyes were missing. They even had abscesses that peeled off parts of their faces to reveal their teeth.

“Sorry, Daddy. We warned you!” whispered Caylee. The choir formed a circle around the shivering Matt before jumping on him and chewing at his flesh. The detective’s screams were muffled by the blood pouring out of the hole in his throat. His eyeballs squished and squashed inside the maulers of the deformed children. His blood was slobbered up off the ground and his flesh was ripped and shredded. The final munch came when the evilly smiling Caylee devoured her father’s exposed heart like it was a juicy steak. All that remained of the detective were his bones and small pieces of slashed skin.

As the children lapped down the final pools of blood and chewed the last of their meals like animals, one of them asked, “Hey, Caylee! What should we do with Master Pearman’s body?”

The little brat’s grin never washed away from her bloody face when she said, “We’ve already had our supper for the evening….but we haven’t had dessert yet! Come on, everybody! Sing with me!”

As the choir carried the lifeless body of Laguna Pearman away from the church, they sang in their most innocent voices, “I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream!”

The Ophidiomancer

When Shaun Goldberg breathed fresh cool air for the first time in his life, he was nearly brought to tears. The grass underneath his bare feet felt softer than a kitten’s fur coat. The wind massaged his wounded body with every heavenly blast. For a minute, he thought he actually was in heaven. Then again, even a public bathroom would have been heaven compared to the blood-and-shit-covered cage he was locked in from childhood to his current thirty years. Bending those bars in half and running away gave him a warm fuzzy feeling inside.

With only a sheep mask and a pair of blue jeans to cover himself with, Shaun ventured out into the countryside plains looking for…god knew what. He had no idea what the hell was supposed to be out here. Would the strangers of this new land treat him just as badly as his mother had? Pushing that possibility out of his mind was like fighting with a schizophrenic ghost. The visions of his mother beating him with a belt and setting him on fire caused him to clutch his head so tightly that his ears bled. He had scars and slashes all over his chest and back because of it.

When the traumatic nightmares fought harder and harder to make Shaun’s head explode, he ran across the wheat field with no destination and a freakish cry in his lungs. He could only run for a short distance since his exhausted legs gave out on him. He crashed to his knees and bawled like a baby. He screamed like a wild beast and flailed his arms like morning stars. What good was having freedom if he had nowhere to go, no education, and nobody to talk to? Was he only delaying the inevitable? Was his thirty years on earth just one miserable hellhole?

Shaun’s traumatic voices were interrupted by religious chanting off in the distance. That baritone voice. Those Latin words. The hisses of poisonous snakes. Could he really be out here? Shaun picked his head up and stared languidly at the ritual going on before his very eyes. Yes, it was him! Reverend Carlos Pierre, the televangelist his mother used to watch on TV all the time. With such charisma in the preacher’s voice and a strong presence, surely Mr. Pierre could help Shaun find his way again.

When the masked giant approached the snakebite ceremony, he looked down on the ground to see several of Carlos’s followers rolling around and coughing up venom. The preacher smiled down at them and spoke in tongues while sprinkling some kind of dust on their bodies. With a blue Hawaiian shirt, white trousers, and sandals with black socks, Carlos looked more like a casual slob than a legitimate cleric. But what would Shaun know about fashion? For all he knew, Reverend Pierre was the real deal.

The priest gazed up at Shaun with his thousand mile stare and said, “You’ve come to the right place, my son. We were just in the middle of a ritual. You’re welcome to join us. Heck, it was probably destiny to begin with. The gods have brought you here, my friend. I know that you’re lost and you don’t know what to do. Kneel before me and all will become clear.”

Shaun was shivering with nervousness at the possibility of finding out what his true purpose in life was. He couldn’t have been a punching bag all these years. There was more to it all than that and he was sure Carlos was going to show him the way. With shivering legs, he got down on one knee like they did in the telecasts and bowed his head.

“Very good, my son. You should know by know what’s coming next,” said Carlos with his devious grin. From the crumbling stone well next to him, he pulled out a brick compartment and opened the hatch to release a hooded cobra from its resting place. He picked up the little bastard and petted it like a newborn puppy. “Hello there, little guy. Who’s my handsome little man? You are, my friend!” The Reverend kissed the cobra on the head before holding it like a whip and approaching Shaun while speaking in strange tongues.

The seven-foot tall giant lifted his head for a slight moment and leaped backwards while screaming like an infant. He remembered seeing these kinds of snakes all the time around his cage. He would cry out in the middle of the night and his mother wouldn’t help him. He got bitten and traumatized by these little hellions and his intense whiny breathing said it all: it was going to happen in adulthood.

Carlos wagged his finger at Shaun and smiled before saying in his smooth jazz voice, “Now, now, my son. You want to be healed, right? You want all of those scars on your body to fade away? You want to meet your savior and creator? You must go through with this, my friend. There is no other way to salvation. If you can’t trust this million dollar smile, what can you trust? Do me one other favor, my boy: take off that silly mask.”

“I…I…I can’t, Mister Reverend Sir. She won’t let me! That bitch won’t let me!” panicked Shaun with his hands defensively over his face.

“I’ll let that burst of foul language slide this time around, but if you do it again, you’ll find yourself in a fiery pit by the time this ritual is over. You don’t want to go there, do you? You look like that’s where you’ve been this whole time. Whoever this woman is you’re referring to, she can’t hurt you now. Nobody can hurt you now. The snakebite is all but a heavenly sting. And then the juices will release you from your worst nightmares. Now do as I say and take that mask off,” said Reverend Pierre in a firm, but polite voice.

Shaun slowly let his hands down and said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Pierre. I can’t do it. You don’t want me to. I’m just going to be a sinner if I do.”

Like the animal he held in his hands, Carlos struck quickly when he yanked Shaun’s mask off. The preacher’s expression changed from polite psychosis to pants wetting fear. “Holy shit!” he whispered when he backpedaled and held his cobra out like a sword. The reptile hissed and flicked its tongue in Shaun’s direction.

Both the sheep mask and the gloves were both off. This man was not a preacher. He was a con artist not unlike a certain matriarchal parent. Shaun’s face was covered in blood and looked like a bare skull with a holy cross tattooed on his forehead. The face of a heavyweight boxer looked more pristine after one of his fights than Shaun’s did after thirty years of torture.

The savage giant stood up on both bare feet and slowly approached the frightened ophidiomancer. The cobra in Carlos’s hand would snap and hiss while the preacher himself kept chanting, “Get away from me! You’re nothing more than a foul beast! Be gone, sinner! Be gone!”

When Shaun got too close, the cobra finally struck. The little creature would have sunk its razorblade teeth into the giant’s chest if Shaun hadn’t instinctively grabbed its head and squeezed with all of his angry might. “Let him go!” shouted Carlos as he tried to pull the snake away. “He hasn’t done anything to anybody! He’s just an animal! He’s innocent! He’s the gateway to heaven!”

Carlos pulled too hard and snapped the snake’s smashed up head off. The goop, blood, and venom in Shaun’s hand was shaken off like a common stain. The preacher backed up until he was cornered against the stone well. Shaun lifted his hands offensively and smiled a devilish smile at his prey. When he reached down for his opponent’s throat, Carlos sprang back up and started punching and elbowing Shaun’s already bloodied up face. Sprays of thick red gunk splashed all over the now dead corpses of Carlos’s followers. After one too many strikes, Shaun fell backwards like a domino and snored heavily.

The ophidiomancer looked down at his victim with a wicked grin and laughed like this whole encounter was one big joke. He had life juices all over his arms as he held them to the sky and laughed like a maniac. “You see that?! I told you I was the one who was going to send you to heaven! But did you listen?! No, and that’s why you’re rotting in an eternal hell!”

Shaun sat up and glared at his attacker dead in his now frightened eyes. “No…no! How can you?! You’re just a demon! You’re a common sinner! You’re a fool!” shouted Carlos.

The giant nipped up to his feet and bull rushed Carlos back first into the stone well. While the preacher was struggling for air as Shaun held his throat, the giant said, “Truth is, Reverend, the only hell that exists for me is miles back there! If you want to know what a real fire pit looks like, I’ll be happy to show you!”

While Carlos was shouting “No!” repeatedly, Shaun reached into the well and pulled out yet another poisonous snake. With one hand firmly wrapped around the creature’s neck, he wrapped the body around Carlos’s throat and strangled him with brutal force. The preacher’s legs were dangling as he was being hoisted in the air by this ogre-like nightmare of a man. Oxygen only lasted for so long, but Shaun Goldberg’s newfound smile lasted forever.

The beauty of the afternoon passed into the chill of the night. The Goldberg family residence was little more than a beat up trailer with a shit-stained farm out back. Bursting the door open with a slab of red meat was a corpulent woman dressed in a pink bathrobe with bunny slippers. “Shaun! Rise and shine! It’s dinner time, you sack of shit! You’d better be up and awake before I bet your ass again!”

The matriarch of the Goldberg family kicked open the barn door and burst into tears at what she saw. It wasn’t her precious little boy in the bloody cage. It was her dear and beloved Reverend Carlos Pierre hanging by his own snake, lifeless as the corpses he collected that day. The mother sobbed and wailed as she waddled over to the dead body and hugged it tightly. “Oh, Reverend! I’m sorry my bastard boy did this to you! I know now that you’re in heaven!”

“Hello, mother dearest!” said a familiar gravelly monster voice. The bitchy mother slowly turned her head and saw that her “bastard boy” Shaun was standing in the doorway covered in live poisonous snakes. The mother dropped on her ass and continued to shed pathetic tears. The son? He had only one question: “What’s for dinner, momma?”

Fed Up

MOVIE TITLE: Fed Up

DIRECTOR: Katie Couric

YEAR: 2014

GENRE: Documentary

RATING: PG-13 for language and politics

GRADE: Mixed

Fed Up explores the many facets of American food culture from our obsession with sugar and unhealthy chemicals to constant advertising to the end result of it all: obesity. Processed foods have been portrayed as being deadlier than drugs or alcohol since more people die from eating disorders than from lung cancer.

The eating habits of three different families across the country have been monitored by the Fed Up crew and they all are suffering the emotional and physical effects of obesity. There seems to be no immediate hope for this epidemic since politicians, both democrat and republican, are constantly being bought off by food lobbyists. Will we ever break our obsession or will future generations grow up to die at a young age?

Just like with any movie that I give a mixed grade to, there are positives and negatives that need to be explored. The positives are no-brainers. The message of the movie is well-intentioned: be good to your body and your body will be good to you in return. We will eventually come to a point in our lives when we have to pay closer attention to taking care of ourselves.

The message is further spread with the extensive research the writers of this movie did. No stone is left unturned from what chemicals different foods have to which politicians represent which food corporations. The arguments made are so convincing that the message is easy to believe no matter what the audience members’ core beliefs are. Kudos to the Fed Up crew for putting in the hard work and getting things done.

But just like with any ideology or political message, there’s a difference between sharing your views and preaching them with almost religious zeal. The big negative this documentary has falls under the latter of those two extremes. While I do commend them for acknowledging that food addiction is a real thing and not just an excuse for weakness, it still feels like they’re telling me that the next bite of Taco Bell or McDonald’s food I take will be my last.

We all have our guilty pleasures and there are times when it’s best just to respect those pleasures. Eating fresh fruit and vegetables all the time might sound like a healthy idea, but it gets boring after a while. And when you get bored with your food choices, you get depressed. And when you get depressed, you reach for that sizzling steak Quesarito and go back to the cycle of addiction.

With the feeling of impending doom on the horizon, Fed Up feels more like a sermon and less like a diet plan. If I wanted to be showered in religious zeal, I would watch God Loves Uganda. But I didn’t. I watched Fed Up because I wanted hope. I didn’t get any by the time it was all over. In fact, I felt worse about my body than I did before.

In the end, what I believe will save is all won’t be one documentary, one diet and exercise plan, or one influential voice. We need a network of different ideas and support systems. A problem shared is a problem halved. I just wish the Fed Up crew would share my problem instead of making me feel guilty for having one.

"Preacher, Vol. 1 through 3" by Garth Ennis

Just because the title of this graphic novel series is “Preacher”, doesn’t mean you should expect some Mickey Mouse, Veggie Tales, McGee bullshit. Yes, the main character, Jesse Custer’s, occupation is a minister, but what actually occupies his time is trying to fight off demons and angels left and right. How does he do it? With the help of a trigger-happy girlfriend named Tulip and a raunchy Irish vampire named Cassidy. Oh, and Jesse also has a powerful stare that forces its victims to do whatever the fuck he wants. If Jesse Custer wants you to go fuck yourself, that’s exactly what you’ll do. If he wants you to count the grains of sand on the beach, then be prepared for a long ass night. You can see every piece of hardcore, godless, offensive action in the first three graphic novels of the Preacher series. Each of them have blood, guts, broken bones, monstrous sex scenes, and dialogue that no bar of soap on the tongue can cure. No absence of malice in any of the first three editions. Having said that, the most disturbing of the three so far is the second one where Jesse has to survive being tortured and twisted by his devilish and bitchy grandmother. The horror she put Jesse through as a child and teenager is unspeakable, the most disgusting treatment being locking him in an underwater coffin for what seems like an eternity as punishment for going against the word of God. Throughout the entire second edition, you keep hoping and praying (no pun intended) that the grandmother gets her comeuppance. The further you read, the angrier you get at her and her cohorts. But before you punch a hole through the comic book, you should feel some sort of relief that there’s a special place in hell for people like her. You think you have fire coursing through your veins? Try living in hell for as long as the grandmother will. Constant torture and agony for a longer time than all of Jesse Custer’s underwater coffin punishments put together. This is the kind of thing you can expect from every episode of Preacher: badass action, transgression horror, and nightmares for many days to come. For all of you who say that comic books are for kids, I certainly hope you’re not talking about the Preacher series. Your kids would need so much therapy that even Bill Gates couldn’t afford to pay for it all.

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“When I hear that trumpet sound, I’m gonna rise right out of the ground. Ain’t no grave can hold my body down.”

-Johnny Cash singing “Ain’t No Grave”-