Blanka from Street Fighter II vs. Laura Ingraham from Fox News: A Masterclass in Malicious Compliance

 

Lucia Morgan from Final Fight 3 vs. Jordan Peterson

 

Final Fantasy IV and Stupidity

When people ask me about my favorite videogames, Final Fantasy IV is somewhere in that Mt. Rushmore...of more than four heads. Why wouldn’t it be? It’s got magic, science fiction, creepy puppets, and…unfortunately, it also has stupid characters. Cecil has to travel the world to protect the elemental crystals from Golbez. But every time Cecil and his friends touch one, Golbez is right there to take it from them, almost like the protagonists are just leading him to the crystals. There’s even one instance where Cecil had to exchange a crystal for his girlfriend Rosa. He gives Golbez the crystal and, surprise, surprise, Golbez reneges on the deal and tries to kill him. And then there’s the dragon knight Kain, who is supposed to be one of Cecil’s allies, but he keeps getting brainwashed by Golbez…over and over again! And what does Cecil do? Welcomes Kain back into the party every single fucking time the brainwashing wears off. Tellah, an old mage with powerful magic, has to sacrifice his own life to cast Meteor on Golbez, which doesn’t kill him, but forces him to relinquish control of Kain…for a little while! And by the way, Golbez is no better. He’s an all-powerful wizard knight who could kill everyone and everything in his path with just his magic alone. There’s even a time when he leaves Cecil and crew laying on the ground…and doesn’t kill them! If Golbez is that powerful, what the fuck does he need elemental crystals for? He could just lightning bolt the world out of orbit if he wanted to! Zip-zap, done! End of story! I’m not saying I’ve never had stupid characters before, but holy shit, they’re not THAT dumb. Now that I’m looking at Final Fantasy IV through a critical lens and not a nostalgic one, where does that rank it on the Mt. Rushmore of my favorite videogames? Hmm…

FF DOT: The Pixel Art of Final Fantasy

BOOK TITLE: FF DOT: The Pixel Art of Final Fantasy

YEAR: 2018

GENRE: Picture Book

SUBGENRE: Videogame Art

GRADE: A

As someone who spent most of my childhood playing Final Fantasy games left and right, this collection of artwork was nostalgic heaven for me. The first game in the series was basically a D&D campaign brought to life and the character and environmental designs reflected that. Even though my favorite classes to use were physical combatants, I got a kick out of seeing the magic users as well. I could just imagine these brave warriors fighting monsters and crawling through dungeons all over again. The rest of the games in the series gave me a nostalgic boost as well. Cecil was a stud as both a dark knight and a paladin, wearing the finest armor and swinging the mightiest swords. Sabin could be WWE Champion today if he wanted to with his brute strength and intimidating presence. Bartz could put on samurai gear and throw money at his opponents like he was more powerful than Elon Musk and Bill Gates combined. Whenever your creative well is running dry like mine was, this book will power you back up again. You don’t even have to be a fan of the games to get enjoyment out of this; the art is simultaneously a history lesson and a shot in the arm for anybody wanting to flex their creative muscles. What more is there to say other than this book gets an easy A out of me?

Go With Them...I Guess

“I’m going off on an adventure!”

“I’m going to seek glory!”

“Garrison, what are you going to do?”

“…Go with them…I guess…”

Ah, yes. When every D&D session is a holiday season in the sense that players should give their all, my specialty in large groups was hitching my wagon to the other players. Don’t contribute any meaningful character information, just…you know…”Go with them…I guess…” But then again, what else was I supposed to do? Walk away from the group and do my own thing? That would require an extra DM just to deal with my bullshit. The easier answer would be to just assume that I’m following my fellow party members around everywhere they go. In which case, I wouldn’t be an elf fighter or a half-orc wizard anymore. I’d be a dog. A loyal golden retriever who couldn’t get enough pets and love, as long as my fellow party members had beef snacks ready. Dogs don’t have to worry about serious character development since their histories amount to chasing squirrels and rolling in mud. Not much complexity there!

Even from my very first session as an elf warrior, it should have been assumed that I’d follow my party members everywhere they went. But that wasn’t how D&D worked in those days. I always assumed that it would be like Final Fantasy games where the party goes everywhere together and would only become active characters during a battle. Not the case at all, it seems. Super Nintendos can’t ask for the player’s opinion beyond a yes or no question. Dungeon Masters can and will. So imagine my shock when the DM, my brother James, asked everyone in the party what they were going to do once they got to a town. The two players before me knew exactly what they were going to do: explore. But when James asked me what I was going to do, I froze like Sub-Zero’s opponents in Mortal Kombat. I thought we were just following each other around. Nope! I actually had to make a decision independent of my party members. And I couldn’t do it. So my elf hunter jumped down a manhole and was never seen again.

All these years later, what is the right answer to the, “What are you going to do?” question when you’re in a group of two or more adventurers? Should Dungeon Masters just assume that party members are just going to follow each other around like dogs and do nothing until they’re specifically called upon? While that is a convenient answer, it would certainly get weird after a while, wouldn’t you agree? Wouldn’t the other party members wonder why these strangers are following them around without saying a word? The easy answer would be to say, “We’re on the same team. Live with it.” But are you? What makes you all a team? Are you just there for the hell of it? Do teams really get together because it’s the right thing to do and nothing should be questioned?

And this is where the all-important character development comes into play. As it turns out, it’s not enough to have a half-orc barbarian with bulging muscles and a battleaxe that can cut through the Golden Gate Bridge. Why is this half-orc barbarian running around with a Halfling thief and a half-elf wizard? How did this half-orc barbarian come into existence other than having a full-orc and a human fuck each other’s brains out? Why does he have all of these muscles other than he’s a barbarian and it should be a universally-accepted truth? What are the stories behind his scars? What are the stories behind his actions? What are the stories behind his blind loyalty to his party? When a character’s motivations and goals are explored beyond being a shallow drone, that’s when the fun really begins. After all, mindless drones aren’t nearly as much fun to read about as fleshed-out three-dimensional characters. Isn’t that right, Stephenie Meyer? How about you, E.L. James, do you want to weigh in on this subject? Didn’t think so.

Let’s go back to the example of the elf hunter who got so confused that he jumped down a sewer hole without giving a second thought. Could he have just hitched his wagon to the other PC’s and went along with them wherever they went? But why would he do that? Well, that’s where a “session zero” comes into play. It’s a D&D session designed to get the characters introduced to each other before the campaign officially begins. So what are the elf hunter’s motivations? Does he want revenge on someone who killed his parents? Does he want to earn enough money to pay for his sister’s heart transplant? Does he want to earn enough money so that he can go on a vacation to a sandy beach paradise? Does he want to earn enough money to go to school and learn more about the world around him? These are all reasonable motivations to have as a character. They may have been done to death by other authors and PC’s, but not you. You as the player have all the power in the world to fashion these motivations into something tangible and unique. So maybe the answer isn’t to hitch your wagon to a bunch of mindless drones.

But what if there’s a reason for being a mindless drone? What if all of the party members are part of a cult that just goes around doing whatever their higher power tells them to do? What if the higher power tells them to murder everyone they come across as a worthy sacrifice? What if the higher power tells them to steal enough money to make the cult richer than Scientology ever could be? In that case, while the players are still mindless drones, they have motivations beyond two-dimensional character work. But even if this were the case, the players who own those characters still have to put in the work when it comes to developing back stories and mythologies. If you’re going to, “Go with them…I guess…”, then at least have a reason for doing so. I hate to use the phrase, “Everything happens for a reason”, but in the case of D&D characters following each other around, it definitely does.

Even the elf hunter has a reason for falling down a sewer hole (not just because the player didn’t know what the fuck he’s doing). Okay, so he’s exited the party under weird circumstances. Now what? Are there creatures lurking in the sewers? Does the shit-scented water have a dark secret buried beneath? Does the sewer serve as a passageway to another world? How about a secret entrance into a castle full of riches and sorcery? Now the question becomes, does the elf hunter keep all of his findings to himself or does he share them with his party members if and when he returns to the surface? Hopefully, he’s had a nice bath beforehand and not in a river of shit and piss. Otherwise, they’re going to think he’s a lunatic and have him locked in a madhouse.

But what does the elf hunter do while he’s confined to a padded cell filled with other crazy people? Does he share his secrets with the crazy people and get into even more trouble than he’s already in? Does he meet someone there who could bust everyone out and flood the streets with whack-a-dos? Does he meet a corrupt nurse who’s beating the shit out of the patients for no reason other than to satisfy their sadistic urges? If you look hard enough, everything has an angle behind it, everything has a story that can be exploited for creative fodder.

Here’s the thing with me as a middle schooler: I didn’t give a shit about developing back stories and looking at life through multiple angles. I just liked the shallow aspects of the characters I created and the places I went to. Does my character have skulls decorating his entire body? Does he carry an axe with a long enough shaft to double as a wizard’s staff? Does he have a drill bit on top of his head? Is his metal armor so thick that it can protect him from nuclear missiles in a medieval fantasy setting? For me back in those days, looking cool was more important than being cool. My characters could have the flattest personalities and the agendas of mindless drones as long as they looked cool doing it. I could get away with it back then, but not today as an author telling my own stories.

One thing I’ve learned as an author is that nobody cares if your dark knight carries a chainsaw into battle with him. Nobody cares if your dragon-born barbarian breathes ice instead of fire. Nobody cares if your goblin electromancer shoots bolts of lightning out of his ass. Surface-level character development isn’t development at all. Having thick armor isn’t a personality trait. Having trident heads for fists isn’t a relatable flaw. The audience doesn’t want chainsaw-wielding dark paladins if those same warriors don’t have an inch of depth or personality behind them. Ever wonder why we like one-line zingers? It’s because a mindless drone could never come up with them. Ever wonder why we like edgy dialogue? Because it takes a special kind of character development to come up with those sound bites. Characters are more than their swords, axes, and lightning breath. They have flaws. They have dreams and goals. They have styles of speech. They have reasons behind their actions that extend beyond Captain Evil territories.

So…do you want to know what the right answer to the, “What are you going to do?” question is? Well, if your only solution is to hitch your wagon to your party members whilst contributing nothing in the way of character development, your D&D session is going to be boring as hell and so will the stories you write as a professional author. It is somewhat surprising to hear me of all people say that, the same guy who struggles with character development because my characters are either too nice or too mean, too extreme or too bland, too smart or too dumb, or too good or too evil. I couldn’t find the middle ground with a map and a compass. 

But that’s why we have character profiles and character sheets: not to keep track of how many muscles our ogre barbarians have, but to keep track of all of their personality traits and why they act the way they do. Coming up with three-dimensional characters is a lot of work, but it’s work very much worth doing. Even out the extreme tendencies and make shit happen for a reason. Think beyond the shallow. Get in your character’s head like a schizophrenic voice. Ask yourself: what makes this character tick? But when you’re figuring this stuff out, take all the time you need. You don’t have to get three-dimensional character work right the first time, but you should get it right eventually. It’s a skill, one that takes patience. Do you have it in you? Of course you do! Otherwise, you wouldn’t have a D&D character sheet or a novel idea in the first place.

Tiger Uppercut

VERSE 1

Striking a nerve like a glockenspiel

Is not how the world is supposed to heal

Of course it matters how your audience feels

They’re the ones who pay for your meals

They didn’t pay to see you spin your wheels

Shouting slurs with a Klansman’s zeal

Bigotry and anger weren’t part of the deal

Your jokes are older than slipping on a peel

CHORUS 1

Tiger uppercut to the billionaire giants

Sho-ryu-ken to the fascist tyrants

Machinegun punches to the royal crown

Punch all the way up, not all the way down

VERSE 2

You’re not dead yet, got millions of dollars

And an army of defenders who hoot and holler

They’re the Twitter trolls and radio callers

Your ego gets bigger, but your dick gets smaller

CHORUS 2

Tiger uppercut to the cardinals and popes

Sho-ryu-ken to abusers of bad jokes

Machinegun punches for the evil frowns

Punch all the way up, not all the way down

VERSE 3

You’ve never experienced living on the streets

You’ve never had to worry about when you’ll eat

You’ve never had a cop pound your face like meat

You’ve never been your uncle’s favorite tasty treat

Not all of your victims have a dinner table seat

Think about that when you’re feeling the heat

They’re not chewed gum stuck underneath your feet

They have their own dreams, march to their own beat

CHORUS 3

Tiger uppercut for the ones with bullwhips

Sho-ryu-ken for the sellers of bullshit

Machinegun punches for conspiracy clowns

Punch all the way up, not all the way down

Flash kick for the gods who rule from the sky

Spinning bird kick when they refuse to die

Rising dragon kick with a Bruce Lee sound

Kick all the way up, not all the way down

It Was All an Adventure to You

 “He’s right this way, Princess. Watch your step. He’s been lying here all day, it seems.”

Princess Marle knew who that male pronoun was meant for, but she didn’t want to say it out loud. She didn’t want his name associated with the grape-scented wine wafting through the forest. She intentionally slowed down, not because she didn’t want to step on her royal white dress, but to prolong the answer. She could have moved at a snail’s pace despite the urgency of her squad of knights, but this part of her future was inevitable. As a former time traveler, she knew something about grim futures.

The knight captain raised a branch so that Marle could pass through. Some of the leaves got in her otherwise perfect blond hair, but hers wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the young boy lying against the trees in front of her. Defeated, drunk, disheveled, and demonized. Four D’s, one shell of a former human being. It was indeed Marle’s ex-husband Crono, his eyes glazed over, his clothes a stained mess, his spiky red hair even messier than usual. All life had left his once bright eyes, numbed by the genie lamp-like bottle dangling in his right hand.

With her knights firmly behind her, Marle tiptoed toward her ex and took a whiff of the offensive air that poisoned not just the forest, but an entire human body. “Did you bathe in Genie’s Delight, Crono?” No answer, just drool, tears, and snot. Marle yanked the bottle out of his hand and sarcastically took a sip. “Mmm! You have fine tastes…despite the fact that you’re not even old enough to drink alcohol. Still…you have very nice tastes.”

Marle threw the lamp-like bottle against a nearby stump, the shattering noise jostling Crono around a little bit, the only sign of life he was capable of showing. Not even his ex-wife’s scowling contempt was enough to wake him up from this depressive stupor. “Arrest him.”

“It was all an adventure to you…”

The knights couldn’t proceed any further as Marle held out her arms like a barricade, wanting to give her ex-husband a chance to speak his mind…or whatever was left of it. “Come again?”

Crono spit a wad of blood onto a nearby patch of grass, as if that would be more effective at deforesting this area than his alcoholic miasma. “Time travel is supposed to be fun, right? We were all having a good time going through all those worlds…all those dinosaurs…all those dragons…all those bony old men looking for something to eat in a fucking factory…” He spat again. “I’m glad you had a good time, Marle. I’m happy all those lighting bolts and fire bombs didn’t scar you in the least. I was worried being in constant battle would take its toll on all of us…” He hiccupped.

“Crono…let me make something perfectly clear. Those battles were not my idea of fun. Nobody was having fun. We fought all of those monsters because it was necessary. We saved the world. Isn’t that something to be proud of? Isn’t that something you want to be remembered for?”

Crono burped.

“Answer me!” Marle’s arms folded like she was ready to make her final judgment upon this poor bastard in front of her.

Crono burped again. “I’m sure it’d be nice to be remembered as a savior. But that’s not how I remember it. All I remember was being burned alive and slashed to pieces.” Tears welled up in his eyes, much to the dismay of his ex-wife. “I died, Marle! I literally died! And before that I almost had my head chopped off by your kingdom! They were going to give me the guillotine for a fake kidnapping charge! The guillotine! To a little boy! That’s all that capital punishment is, really: state-sanctioned murder.”

Marle calmed down somewhat. “I agree.”

“I don’t,” said the knight captain, who earned himself a slap on the arm from her highness.

“You were cleared of all charges, Crono.”

“Tell that to the townsfolk. You think I don’t hear them talking? They still think I kidnapped you. They don’t buy that time portal explanation. Nobody does.” He pointed at an empty field. “Even that guy won’t stop talking about it. He wants me dead, just like everyone else.”

“Crono, who are you pointing at? There’s nobody there.” The weight of what Marle just said caused her to suck in a deep breath. Almost holding her hand to her mouth, she whimpered, “Are you delusional? Are you…hearing voices?” Her only answer came in the form of a weak shrug. “Is that why you drink so much?” He nodded. “You ruined our marriage over a few bottles of wine for this? Crono, why didn’t you tell me?”

He laughed like the madman he was becoming. “How am I supposed to bring that up in conversation? Oh, honey, these mashed potatoes are delicious! By the way, I’m hearing things that aren’t there! Your knights would have given me the guillotine just for that. I guess there’s no better way to relieve head trauma, am I right?” He chuckled at his own form of gallows humor.

Marle’s breathing became more erratic and jittery as she fought back tears that she never wanted her loyal knights to see. “Crono, if you would have told me, I wouldn’t have judged you for it. I would have helped you through it. We all would have.”

“I wouldn’t have,” said the knight captain.

“SHUT UP!” yelled Marle, an order that was quickly obeyed. “Crono…we married each other…we shared moments…and you threw it all away with that disgusting wine! You could have told me what was going on!”

“Not even your healing magic would have done me any favors, Marle!” Crono snapped back. “You want to help me? Reach inside my head, pull the demons out one-by-one, and throw them away for good! Can you do that? Can anybody do that?!”

“…No…I can’t…” Marle’s tears were slowly eroding away her royal toughness.

“Look…if you’re going to arrest me, then do it already. I’m beyond help at this point. Those combat memories won’t go away on their own. Those chatty bastards won’t stop spreading rumors about me. And I’ll never get the taste of Genie’s Delight out of my mouth. Ah, who am I kidding? Everything tastes like blood nowadays. I’ve been stabbed so many times that I can taste it every day. I’ve been burned so many times that it tastes like crispy black scabs. Just arrest me or kill me, okay? I don’t care what you choose, just do something.”

Marle wiped her eyes on her arm glove before using her arm like a barricade once more to stop the knight captain from arresting Crono. “I’ll handle this. Take the rest of the day off, Captain. You’ve done enough.”

“But Princess, I…”

She lifted a finger to her lips. “Not. Another. Word. Let me handle this. Go.”

The knights hesitated for a while before marching back to the castle, leaving Marle to wrap Crono’s arm around her back and hoist him to his feet. His dizzy equilibrium made him harder to carry, but she was still willing to do it. He was so slippery that she just decided to carry him baby style in her arms. He seemed comfortable in that position from how easily he closed his puffy eyes. Marle didn’t even have to struggle that much to hold him, suggesting to her that he hadn’t had much food to go with his copious amounts of alcohol.

Marle carried the remains of her ex-husband through the dark forest, the one where they used to “level up”. The one where they escaped from the castle guards by traveling to the future, the future of broken down factories, skinny survivors, constant hunger, and dark skies. Maybe there was some validity to Crono’s trauma.

She carried him like the mother she originally wanted to be. She climbed many castle stairs, receiving dirty looks from the guards along the way. She didn’t care. She climbed more stairs. And more. And more. And then she introduced Crono to a room he thought he hadn’t seen before. “This doesn’t look like a drunk tank…”

“That’s because it isn’t. It’s our old bedroom. The bed is a lot softer here than in a drunk tank.”

A little bit of life returned to Crono’s eyes as he looked around the old bedroom he shared with his now ex-wife. Marle took it in as well. The stained glass windows, the bookcase full of knowledge and wisdom, the beautiful artwork that was a mirror image of the battles they fought together, and more importantly, the bed that felt like laying on a cloud of vanilla ice cream.

“I think you’d be more comfortable with your shirt off.” Sure enough, Marle stood him up and removed his wine-scented tunic, revealing visible ribs underneath. She elected to leave everything else on his body in order to keep it PG. She hobbled him over to the bed and laid him down on his stomach, face first into the silky eiderdown pillow. He was asleep almost instantly, snoring like a coffee grinder and snorting like a pig.

Marle gazed down upon her once beloved with watery eyes. She threatened him with arrest back in the forest, but she knew in her heart she could never carry out such an order. He was so irresponsible, but he was also hurting. She couldn’t leave someone like that alone in the forest at the mercy of conservative knights. He looked almost as pained as the starving twigs from the future. He looked like a corpse ready for his permanent dirt nap. He was drunk out of his mind, yet he clung to life all the same. She knew he wasn’t ready to surrender.

Knowing full well he was knocked out from the drunkenness, Marle climbed on Crono’s back and gave him a massage anyways. She didn’t want to squeeze too hard out of consideration for his visible bones, but she squeezed just enough to hopefully put some better memories in his traumatic nightmares. If the gentle touches weren’t enough, she leaned into his ear and whispered something she wanted to say, but couldn’t get through to him during their crumbling marriage: “Crono…I never stopped loving you!”

Pee-Wee Herman On Crack

VERSE 1

Baldheaded puppets, intestines for strings

They’ll cut off your head, hollow everything

A present for the darkest of dark lord knights

Not bad for a bunch of freaks who look like

Pee-Wee Herman on crack

Never get your serotonin back

Pee-Wee Herman on crack

Childhood is under attack

VERSE 2

They’ll play you a nice little waltz lullaby

Not in hopes you will sleep, but want to die

Infinite loops until your sanity goes bye-bye

Not bad for some monsters who look like

Pee-Wee Herman on meth

Pray for the quickest death

Pee-Wee Herman on drugs

Intestinal noose fits nice and snug

VERSE 3

My guitar is made from puppet strings

When I open my mouth, the demons sing

When I strike the mallet, funeral bells ring

When the puppets dance, you’ll start to think

That they’re Pee-Wee Herman on acid

Schizophrenic voices bring the traffic

Pee-Wee Herman on pills

Getting their bloodthirsty thrills

VERSE 4

When you beat them down, the trauma remains

Making lemonade out of your melting brains

All the Xanax in the world won’t help you now

Neither will the simple phrase, “I disavow”

Pee-Wee Herman on heroin

Cool off your superhero arrogance

Pee-Wee Herman on crack

Once they’re in your mind, there’s no going back

Pee-Wee Herman on crack

Pee-Wee Herman on smack

Pee-Wee Herman unpacked

From a body bag, goodbye to your sack

Food-Mindedness and Body Horror

In case it wasn’t already abundantly clear from my 300 lb. belly, I’m very food-minded. Almost everything in my life reminds me of food in some way. Hell, the word Life will conjure images of the oat square cereal swirling around in milk. The word swirling will remind me of frosted cinnamon buns, keyword being frosted, as in enough frosting to cover the whole fucking thing. At least those words make a modicum of sense, but then there are names of people that remind me of food for no reason at all. Marcus reminds me of hotdogs and mustard. Brad reminds me of French bread. Rachel reminds me of apple juice. Erick reminds me of birthday cake-flavored milkshakes. How did this happen? Was it the constant advertising? Was there some trick of the brain during childhood I wasn’t aware of?

Already, my relationship with food is off to a rocky start. But then there are the things I find disgusting in life and how they find their way into my food. Not literally, but I imagine that they do and my imagination is powerful enough to make me vomit in some cases. For example, if you’ve ever seen the movie Clerks, the View Askew Productions logo at the beginning will serve as nightmare fuel to haunt you at every stage of life. There’s nothing wrong with men dressing in fishnet pantyhose, high heels, and leather thongs…even if they do have grotesque body hair. But it’s the unwanted sexual attention and creepiness of his flirtation that makes it such a traumatic logo. After seeing that logo for the first time, I kept involuntarily picturing his hairy disgusting body in pieces of my lunch meat. Every time I take a bite of ham or turkey, I imagine I’m taking a bite out of that man’s body. My stomach is aching and my fingers are convulsing just thinking about this.

But that’s just one example. If that was the only one, then I wouldn’t have been inspired to write an entire essay on it. What about the Calcobrena Puppets from Final Fantasy IV? You know, those creepy leotard-wearing dolls with buzzed heads, bloodshot eyes, zombie movements, and murderous intentions. They look like they could be Pee-Wee Herman’s children based on their buzz-cuts alone. Pee-Wee Herman once taught his audience how to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on his show. Therefore…all of my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches will taste like the bodies of the Calcobrena Puppets. It’ll be like eating right off of their skulls, head lice, fleas, and maggots be damned. It’ll be like giving French kisses to each and every one of those dolls…while passing pre-chewed sandwiches back and forth! Again, my stomach is boiling and rotting while I’m typing this.

And what about the Simpsons from their Treehouse of Horror Episodes, particularly the ones where they turn into pale zombies. They chew flesh, they lose limbs, they groan like exhausted monsters, and did I mention that they have pale skin? You know what else is pale in color? Pasta covered in white sauce, whether it’s American cheese or Alfredo sauce. Every bite that I took of those macaroni shells made me believe I was eating pieces of the zombie Simpsons. I took a long time to swallow knowing that zombie flesh was going down my throat and was going to poison me to death. The macaroni turned to mush in my mouth, so when I finally swallowed, I gagged and brought up a little bit of bile with it.

If I rattled off every example of food-related body horror, then we’d be here forever and a day. I could talk about the faceless masks from Pink Floyd the Wall reminding me of melted cheese. I could talk about the diarrhea blasts in The Human Centipede reminding me of chocolate ice cream (that one’s too obvious, though). I could talk about dead flies reminding me of Butterfinger ice cream. How did this all happen? Why are these disgusting things finding their way into my every meal? Am I so linked up with food that every trauma will remind me of such? Suppose I was more inclined towards Legos instead of food. If I touched a Lego piece that had three holes in it, would it remind me of the Pink Floyd masks? What if I was geared towards clothing? Would the View Askew drag queen’s body hair remind me of a wool sweater that’s literally hugging my chest?

I can already hear fatphobic assholes using my food horror as motivation for me to lose weight…or is that just my schizophrenic voices? Nah, I’m pretty sure someone has thought of exploiting me at one point or another. To those fat-shamers, I say watch the Human Centipede and eat a bag of shit and then watch Pink Floyd the Wall and eat an entire McDonald’s Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese (there has to be cheese in it, no exceptions). Unlike drugs and alcohol, food is actually necessary to survive. A cheeseburger will carry you over into the next day. A pack of cigarettes will not. A pepperoni pizza will give you the nutrition you need, even if it’s bad. Alcohol will not. If I gave up all of my favorite foods due to the body horror I’ve witnessed over the years, I would die of anorexia. Imagine that: fat-shaming actually hurts people instead of helping them find motivation. It’s almost as if people are only fat-shaming to satisfy their sadistic urges and are just using motivation as a cover-up for their shitty behavior. Bullying never went away; it just adapted to the new world.

I could tell you all that I’ve found the perfect counter for body horror-induced trauma, but I haven’t. Yes, I’m still alive and eating like a pig, but that’s only because the trauma went away on its own. I eat ham sandwiches whenever I damn well please even though the View Askew drag queen lusted on me through the TV screen as a kid. I eat stuffed mushrooms despite the fact that it feels too much like I’m eating Phanto from Mario Brothers 2, the evilly-smiling little bastard. Trauma going away on its own is not a typical outcome for most people, especially if schizophrenia is a factor like it is for me. Sure, you can take away the stimulus and hope for the Law of Diminishing Returns to kick in, but it doesn’t always do that. I have no solutions for your body horror trauma. As a matter of fact, I may have given you some of that as I described examples of how they make their way into my food.

Sometimes I think I’m the only one who experiences things like this until I Google it and find entire communities full of people who share my problems. But that’s assuming I’m not too lazy on any given day to use Google. It’s such an easy thing, yet I find myself too lazy sometimes to type words into a search engine. If you’re out there and you’re as food-minded as me, I’m sorry I can’t provide solutions for you other than the occasional animal picture and some digital hugs. You know who can provide more than that? Your therapist. They can talk you through your trauma. They can encourage you to face your food-themed fears. They can be there for you when you feel like others would laugh at your plight. Yes, therapy can be expensive at times, but it’s worth every penny if it means you’ll be okay in the end. If you’re not okay, it’s not the end. Life is better alive. It’s a dumb thing to say, but the truth won’t wane away. Okay, now I’m just ripping off quotes and lyrics. I should stop doing that before I get sent to prison for copyright infringement and have my vanilla pudding remind me of my cell mate’s semen. Uh-oh! More body horror!

Anything Can Be a D&D Campaign

***ANYTHING CAN BE A D&D CAMPAIGN***

Yes, you read that title right. Anything, and I do mean anything, can become a D&D campaign no matter how ordinary or extraordinary the inspiration is. D&D campaigns are just stories you tell to a group of friends. Novels, on the other hand, are D&D campaigns that you play by yourself. Whether you’re playing with yourself or you’re doing it in a big group, there’s a story deep within you. Deep within the cock, cock, cockles of your heart. If you’ve got a mind for fantasy, you’ve got a D&D campaign.

Let’s take something ordinary for our first example. Let’s say you’re going to the supermarket for some groceries. Nothing special, just some eggs, milk, cheese, bread, lunch meat, god knows what else. You can take this ordinary creative fuel and make it extraordinary in a heartbeat. Perhaps the supermarket is being robbed by a gang of orcish thugs. Perhaps the lunch meat you purchased came from a slain dragon. Perhaps the eggs have snake fetuses inside. All you have to do is take one element of this simple story and twist it into a fantasy setting with some hot action for the characters. Congratulations, you’ve got a D&D story! A trip to the supermarket will now be a glorious adventure.

Now let’s up the ante a little bit with a computer game of Solitaire. Still an ordinary situation, but now it’s in the confines of an extraordinary piece of machinery. Can we make a D&D campaign out of a game of solitaire? Abso-fucking-lutely! The goal of the game is to get every card from the aces to the kings situated in four cells. What if those kings, queens, jacks, and jokers were real people? What if they were being locked in real cells by the joker and held hostage? What will the joker do with his newfound hostages? Ransom them? Beat them? Torture them? Fuck them? Is there any chance at all of saving the royal hostages? Would the two of diamonds or three of clubs even want to save them? Would a four of spades be able to use a shovel as a weapon, like the spade suggests? So many possibilities. The world is yours to unlock and unravel!

And once again, we’ll up the ante with something a little more glorious than a trip to the supermarket or a game of solitaire. Let’s say you want to make a D&D campaign out of your old Final Fight SNES cartridge. You certainly can do that! For those not old enough to remember, Final Fight is a videogame where you take a beefy brawler of your choice and beat the living hell out of the Mad Gear Gang until they give back their pretty young hostage. The creative fuel from such a game is endless. Mike Haggar, a muscular professional wrestler in the game, could be a dragon-born barbarian that breaths fire and chops shit down with battleaxes. Guy, a skinny little ninja, could be an elf with magical abilities to make up for his lack of physical strength. Cody Travers? He could wear gauntlets as he punches through armies of half-orcs on his way to save his girlfriend Jessica Haggar. The possibilities are literally endless!

Of course, the creative alterations you make to any source of creative fuel don’t have to be purely cosmetic, nor should they be. Badass non-human characters are nice, but without a concrete story, they’ve got no reason for doing the things they do and they’ve got no reason to develop beyond their archetypes. So how do you take a game of Vegas Stakes for the SNES and develop it into a, pardon the pun, high stakes situation? For those who don’t know, Vegas Stakes is basically a gambling game where the object is to win…(lifts my pinky to my face) one million dollars! There could be many wrinkles you could add to a seemingly shallow storyline. What if you cheated to win that money and now have to face the wrath of beefy bouncers? What if you spent your winnings on prostitutes and got one of them pregnant? What if you lost all of your money and have to do some unsavory things to get it back? And of course, there’d be dragons flying around everyone and half-orcs losing their shit every which way. It just wouldn’t be a D&D campaign without those things happening every six seconds.

Do I have your attention now? You don’t have to look very hard to find a multi-layered story in the most ordinary or extraordinary things. When you build your story, make sure the characters are the ones driving it. We like character-driven stories, because without the characters, there’s nothing to develop and without anything to develop and cultivate, your story is boring as shit. There are authors out there who still get this wrong. It’s forgivable during the first draft stages, but once your book is out there on the market, you’re fresh out of excuses. Find your story. Build your characters. Make those two things interact with each other. Find friends who are willing to play your new D&D campaign. But if you don’t have friends, write the novel yourself. The world is yours. What you do with it is up to you. I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!

Holy shit! I just found another source of creative fuel, this time from my sign off phrase, which is stolen from a Three Days Grace song. Climbing mountains even when you’re dying? Why are you climbing the mountain? What’s on the top of it that’s so special? What obstacles will test your mettle? Are there dragons, barbarians, and wizards who want that special prize as much as you do? Do I still have your attention, motherfuckers?

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***

Speaking of three-dimensional stories, this new edition of Beautiful Monster is drawing to a close with just three more chapters and an epilogue to write. So close, yet so far away! I can do this! All I have to do is guide Windham, Llewellyn, and Tarja on a mission to pick off poisoned mercenaries and soldiers one by one. Seems easy since they’re all choking on blight fumes, right? Well, not exactly. There are still three people on the battlefield who arrived late and therefore didn’t breathe in an ass-load of toxic smoke. Any guesses as to who these three are? I’m waiting!

***JOKE OF THE DAY***

Q: What do you call an ordinary Shrek character?

A: Medi-ogre.

***POST-SCRIPT***

What’s this? I have another piece of creative fuel to work with? A Shrek-based D&D campaign? Hell yeah!

Psycho Crusher

VERSE 1

My psycho power knows no limits

Wreck your ass within just a minute

Steal your soul in a ritual so dark

Your new nickname is The Human Scar

CHORUS

Psycho Crusher! X4

VERSE 2

Throw your fireballs all you desire

Throw your lightning kicks until you tire

A hundred hand slap could finish any fight

But victory is mine even if only for tonight

Meet me in Thailand for the final round

Throw punches so hard, they shake the ground

This world is mine to conquer and rule

You’re a worthy opponent, but a blind fool

CHORUS

Psycho Crusher! X4

M. BISON QUOTE

Get lost! You can’t compare with my powers!

VERSE 3

You trained your ass off to get to this point

But in the end, your battle cries are white noise

Your hurricane kicks are just cheap ass tricks

Your dragon punches make me fucking sick

You never stood a chance in my tournament

You plead for mercy without earning it

Better luck next time, you second rate hack

Try again when you’re not lying on your back

CHORUS

Psycho Crusher! X4

M. BISON QUOTE

Anyone who opposes me must be destroyed!

Cody Trigger

VERSE 1

On death row, time’s moving slow

A blast to the past is where Cody goes

An adrenaline junkie, funky like a monkey

Beat some ass and earn prizefight money

Squash medieval knights like metal cans

Psychopaths are his number one fans

He doesn’t care if you’re man, beast, or car

He’ll knock your ass down and rip you apart

CHORUS

Criminal Uppercut! Ruffian Kick!

Cheap Shot Stone! Dagger tricks!

Final Destruction! Dead End Irony!

Still want to brag about being fiery?!

Cody Trigger! Chrono Travers!

Cody Trigger! Chrono Travers!

VERSE 2

He could save Metro City, but not himself

He’s nowhere near the hero we knew so well

Can he save us all from the Lavos apocalypse?

If he turns his back, can you still be an apologist?

Can he play nice with the red-haired samurai?

Can he be sweeter to Marle than an apple pie?

Can he throw fists with Robo on the frontline?

Or will he be forever lost in the sands of time?

CHORUS

Criminal Uppercut! Ruffian Kick!

Cheap Shot Stone! Dagger tricks!

Final Destruction! Dead End Irony!

Still want to brag about being fiery?!

Cody Trigger! Chrono Travers!

Cody Trigger! Chrono Travers!

VERSE 3

He’s the future and evil beasts are history

He’ll turn this hell into a bigger misery

Dragons, monsters, and the living fireball

He’ll burst into a rage and slaughter them all

He can throw kicks with the cute cavewoman

Save Jessica again and call her puddin’

Save the frog knight from Magus’s blight

You want a battle? Here’s a Dixie dogfight!

CHORUS

Criminal Uppercut! Ruffian Kick!

Cheap Shot Stone! Dagger tricks!

Final Destruction! Dead End Irony!

Still want to brag about being fiery?!

Cody Trigger! Chrono Travers!

Cody Trigger! Chrono Travers!

The Dark Blade

***THE DARK BLADE***

Childhood is a time for developing one’s creativity and imagination. We buy action figures and Legos so that we can act out our own adventures. We draw pictures with our own naïve vision of what the world should be. We build things out of ordinary objects to show that there’s a world beyond their intended use. For me personally, my favorite form of creativity was coming up with ideas for videogames. One of those videogame ideas was intended to be a rival to Squaresoft’s Chrono Trigger and it was called The Dark Blade.

Chrono Trigger as a Super Nintendo game was everything a child could ask for: beautiful storytelling, emotional characters, innovative settings, and exciting game play. Who in their right mind wouldn’t want to play a game about a spiky haired teenager named Crono who travels through time in order to prevent a 1999 apocalypse using lightning magic and katana skills? Who in their prepubescent years wouldn’t have the world’s biggest crush on crossbow fighter Marle or prehistoric vixen Ayla? Who wouldn’t want to use Magus’s shadow magic or Frog’s water magic to overcome the toughest obstacles?

In my pre-teen years, I had a tall task ahead of me if I was going to formulate an RPG that would measure up to the greatness of Chrono Trigger. Therefore, I had The Dark Blade, a supremely underdeveloped story about a spiky haired teenager named David who along with his friends tries to keep the title artifact out of the hands of The Dark Sorcerer (notice the theme of darkness here?). David had the hair of Guile from Street Fighter II, a black karate outfit, ruby boots, vampire fangs (what?!), and the swords of Billy and Jimmy Lee from Double Dragon V. Oh, and he also has the lightning magic of Crono. And he starts the game by going to a carnival, just like Crono.

Being as ignorant as I was about copyright laws, I stole pieces of creative fuel from any source I could find. Princess Crystal Hershey got her last name from the chocolate bar and her outfit from Celes from Final Fantasy VI. Ninja Prince Boris Hershey got his character design from Shadow, also a Final Fantasy VI standout. Nixer (careful how you say that) is a direct rip-off of a Magic: the Gathering card that featured an old ragged man carrying a scythe. Nixer’s magical element was Aura, which is a direct theft of the Aura Bolt technique used by Sabin from Final Fantasy VI.

The Dark Blade’s soundtrack would be stolen directly from albums by The Police, The Moody Blues, Sting, and Metallica. Talk about a bunch of bands that don’t belong in the same concert! Metallica’s “Ride the Lightning” album would serve as battle music, both for normal enemies, mini-bosses, and regular bosses. The Police’s hit “Spirits in the Material World” would serve as carnival music. The Moody Blues’s song “The Voice” would serve as romantic fuel (in a time where I was too young to give a shit about love). Sting’s “Mad About You” would also serve as romantic music even though David and Crystal never officially shack up (again, because I didn’t give two shits and a flying fuck about love back then).

With all of these stolen properties, how would they mesh against the actual story? Somewhere along the way, David would use a lightsaber/baseball bat reminiscent of Star Wars and WWF Wrestlemania: The Arcade Game. He would also ride a hover cycle reminiscent of Space Quest IV. So far, so good. But then we eventually have to get to the depressive dip of the game. Turns out The Dark Sorcerer got a hold of The Dark Blade after all. With its powers, he turned the entire world’s population (except for David, Crystal, Nixer, and Boris) into stone. Turning somebody into a stone statue is straight from the Final Fantasy franchise. Having the bad guy win for a while is the same scenario that happened in Final Fantasy VI when Kefka turned The World of Balance (blue water and green pastures) into the World of Ruin (red water and wastelands).

With the innocence of a child and the creative fuel of a madman, I was sure to have my videogame idea mailed off to Sqauresoft so that they could get cracking on making it. The one thing that kept me from doing so was my brother James’s constant talk about copyright laws and what could happen if I violated them. According to him, I could have my wages garnished and my property stolen by the government. I justified my right to the profits by saying, “I could lock the doors!” Then James said that the Fire Department would come busting through to help the government take my stuff. At one point I whined, “Stop telling me these crummy facts!”, to which he said, “They’re true!”

While I didn’t want my creativity to take a backseat to copyright laws, I had no other choice as I got older and discovered how ridiculous they can be. Viacom and Disney have sued the shit out of anyone and everyone who uploaded their content onto You Tube. Disney has sued a daycare center for using Mickey Mouse decals to decorate the joint. If you want to argue lawsuits, then people these days will sue over anything, and I do mean anything. Donald Trump sued Bill Maher because the comedian said our now president was a descendant of orangutans. James Woods sued a Twitter user for saying that he was a coke head online. The more money you have, the more weight you can throw around in a courtroom. Videogame corporations have a lot of money and by proxy can throw more weight around than WWE Hall of Famers Yokozuna and Rikishi combined.

If The Dark Blade ended up becoming a novel idea in modern day Garrisonism, I suppose I could do away with all of the theft and turn it into something original and fun. People rarely play Super Nintendo games anymore (except for nostalgia purposes on ROM Emulators), so The Dark Blade would have to be a novel. David shouldn’t be such a Gary-Stu for his age, which means no vampire fangs, ruby boots, or dragon swords. Crystal and Boris shouldn’t have the last name Hershey because there have been too many jokes about skid marks over the years thanks to guys like Dave Chappelle. Nixer should have a first name that doesn’t sound like a racial slur. The Dark Sorcerer should have a real name, probably one that doesn’t have “dark” in it.

Turning this childhood videogame idea into a credible novel is a long shot, but I now have the skills and resources to do so as a 31-year-old semi-professional author. Will it rival Chrono Trigger? Ask anybody who’s ever read Occupy Wrestling and they’ll tell you “Hell no!” Then again, nothing can rival Chrono Trigger. It was a special piece of childhood heaven that can’t be taken away no matter how many game consoles 2017 can pump out. You can keep your Halos and Call of Duties and I’ll reminisce in Chrono Trigger’s beauty forever. If anything, I’m clinging to my roots so that I don’t forget how to write The Dark Blade in its truest form. One day, maybe one day David and Crono can have fantasy warfare. We’ve got ears, say cheers! By the way, in case you didn’t know, that last line was stolen from Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. I’m a bigger thief than Locke Cole from Final Fantasy VI. Damn it, I did it again!

***THE NEXT FEW DAYS***

While I’m waiting patiently for the Wrestling Observer Newsletter to come out with their 2016 awards, I’m going to have a few creative projects to occupy my time. I only have seven chapters left to read from Ashley Uzzell’s LGBT fairytale (no, that’s not a pun, shut up!) called “Once Upon a Pastry”. I’ll spend the whole day blitzing right through them and offering her my funniest and most poignant critiques. I also have a Dark Fantasy Warrior that needs drawing and his name is Lord McCain, the elf sorcerer from “Emoticon Artist”. Once I’ve officially drawn one hundred colored Dark Fantasy Warriors, I’m going to put their faces in a meme like I did with the uncolored ones. Somewhere along the way, I’ll write the shit out of Demon Axe’s twelfth chapter (don’t rush me, Writer’s Circle, I’ll get to it eventually!). Once I’m done with these tasks, I can begin work on editing the shit out of Poison Tongue Tales and getting it ready for publication. I’ve already edited the first three stories, so that’s SOME progress (again, don’t rush me, Writer’s Circle!). Once I complete these projects, then and only then can I lament not having a WWE Network subscription so that I can see this year’s Royal Rumble and see Bobby Roode win the NXT Championship from Shinsuke Nakamura at the TakeOver special before that. Wish me luck!

***TELEVISION QUOTE OF THE DAY***

DET. CLAUDETTE WYMS: Where were you last night?

SUSPECT: I was at home jerking off into a sock. You guys need the evidence?

-The Shield-

We Steal Tears

VERSE 1

Death! Death! Double, double, death!

We’re addicted to this shit like crystal meth

Tears! Tears! Triple, triple, tears!

We’ve robbed you of all your childhood years

Quit! Quit! Quadruple quitting!

You want your tears back? Who’re you kidding?

Hack! Slash! Out with all the trash!

Your whole world reduced to a pile of ash

CHORUS

We steal tears! We steal tears!

Drown your sorrow in poisonous beers!

We steal tears! We steal tears!

Capitalizing on your deep and darkest fears!

We steal tears! We steal tears!

Your final Armageddon is drawing near!

We steal everything that you hold dear!

But that ship has already sailed from its pier!

VERSE 2

Love! Love! You can’t get enough!

Breaking through the metal armor so tough

War! War! You’re begging for more!

Get your ass in battle and give me some gore

Experience points! Your currency of choice!

Let me hear some motherfucking noise

Lightning! Fire! Sorcerers for hire!

The final battle is getting down to the wire

CHORUS

We steal tears! We steal tears!

Drown your sorrow in poisonous beers!

We steal tears! We steal tears!

Capitalizing on your deep and darkest fears!

We steal tears! We steal tears!

Your final Armageddon is drawing near!

We steal everything that you hold dear!

But that ship has already sailed from its pier!

BRIDGE

It’s nothing personal, it’s only business

This is what we do with creative vision

Sell you a story of friendship and family

And a hint of magic, it’s your final fantasy

VERSE 3

Buy it fast! Supplies won’t last!

Rain down on your enemies with a fiery blast

Save the girl! Save the world!

Enough lusty drama to make your toes curl

Ride the golden bird! Spread the word!

Fly the airship through a world so absurd

We’re not responsible for your broken heart!

Or the inability to get that shit to restart

CHORUS

We steal tears! We steal tears!

Drown your sorrow in poisonous beers!

We steal tears! We steal tears!

Capitalizing on your deep and darkest fears!

We steal tears! We steal tears!

Your final Armageddon is drawing near!

We steal everything that you hold dear!

But that ship has already sailed from its pier!

Fighting Game Neighborhoods

***FIGHTING GAME NEIGHBORHOODS***

I’m sure most of my reading audience is old enough to remember videogames from the Nintendo and Super Nintendo gaming consoles. What I don’t know is if any of you have played beat ‘em up fighting games like Double Dragon or Final Fight. If you haven’t, then you probably won’t understand just what the hell I’m talking about. In which case, feel free to skip past this portion of my journal and go straight to the creative project updates and the quote of the day.

For those of you who did play those kinds of videogames as a child, congratulations, your childhood was fucking awesome. There’s no violence quite like senseless violence as you move your ass-kicking character from one side of the screen to the other. No talking, no nonsense, just straight up ass-beatings and maybe some kya noises. What this journal deals with in particular is how most of those games take place in poor, dilapidated neighborhoods.

You know the kinds of neighborhoods I’m talking about. The buildings are so broken down that they look like they’re about to collapse. Cars parked on the side of the road live up to their moniker of Fixed or Repaired Daily. The roads and sidewalks have so many potholes that it’s amazing your character doesn’t trip over them constantly. There’s trash everywhere, and I mean everywhere. In the second stage of the first Final Fight game, the subway train’s windows are bashed in and there’s graffiti all over the walls.

If you’ve ever lived in a small town or inner city district before, then you’ve probably made the connection between your own life and a fighting videogame. You would often pretend to be Billy Lee or Cody Travers as you punch and kick at invisible enemies. You couldn’t do that to real people walking by or else that would be considered assault and battery. There are places in Port Orchard and Chehalis, WA that look like they could be backdrops for a fighting game based on their depressing appearances alone. I haven’t met anybody in Port Orchard who was worthy of a Mike Haggar piledriver. Chehalis? Oh, that was quite the different story.

But why is this trope so relevant to fighting games? Why do they always take place in shitty neighborhoods? You never see fighting games that take place in friendly or rich neighborhoods. Even Belger’s penthouse from the first Final Fight game looked like shit. But what if there was an installment of Double Dragon that took place in a gated community? Would it have the same feel? Would it make less sense? Are people in rich neighborhoods suddenly better than people in poor ones?

And that’s how you can tell if class warfare exists. You won’t see Guy slinging a katana at some Wall Street motherfuckers. If Mike Hagger ever got elected president, you wouldn’t see him clotheslining Andore out of his boots at the white house. You won’t see Shadow Master drinking a glass of Chablis while eating caviar with Liberace playing in the background. The poor neighborhood trope in fighting games is stereotypical of how Americans see their economic inferiors. Then again, nobody played those games because of they were models for progressive values. They played them for the same reason I’d love to play them again someday: because kicking ass is a lot of goddamn fun!

***WEEKLY SHORT STORY CONTESTS AND COMPANY***

Speaking of kicking ass and taking names, this week’s story will be called “Kink Floyd” and will conform to the Captive prompt. It goes like this:

 CHARACTERS:

Tarja Hunter, Cop

Daniel “Kink Floyd” Alexander, Bondage Enthusiast

Johnny Filter, Straightedge Gangster

PROMPT CONFORMITY: Tarja is the captive of Daniel and Johnny.

SYNOPSIS: In order to gain leverage over the Paulson City Police Department, Johnny kidnaps Tarja (their best detective) and takes her to Daniel’s studio. “Kink Floyd” as he’s nicknamed poses her in humiliating sexual bondage positions while Johnny takes pictures on his iPhone. Distributing these pictures could do serious damage to the Police Department’s reputation, which is why Johnny wants to use the photos to blackmail them into allowing him and his gang to do whatever they want. But even in kinky bondage, Tarja won’t give up without a fight to the death.

FUN FACT: If Tarja ever arrests her two captives, not only will they be charged with assaulting an officer and attempted conspiracy, but they’ll also be charged with murder. The victim? Pink Floyd’s music.

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

If Stinger Crushwar’s head looks like it’s a little too far on his left shoulder, I apologize. That was a goof on my part and hopefully there will be fewer of them in the future. No sense in crying over spilled milk, though, because the next one to appear on the list is Mathias Jorgenson, the elf sorcerer from “Forever Autumn”. I already drew a picture of Autumn the parrot wizard, so Mathias was naturally next on the list. “Forever Autumn” was described by my audience as “cute” and “cartoon-like”, so hopefully I’ll capture those essences when I draw Mathias.

***POISON TONGUE TALES***

Only my Deviant Art members will understand why this section of the journal is significant since they’re the only ones who see my editing work. The next three stories that will undergo literary surgery are the three M’s of Poison Tongue Tales: “Mastodon”, “Minnie-Moo”, and “Molly-Dolly”. All three of these stories deal with animals and they all start with the letter M, which spells out MMM!! Tarja Hunter’s going to be saying that a lot when I eventually write “Kink Floyd” for the WSS contest. Hehe!

***JOKE OF THE DAY***

Q: What do you call a mean Canadian?

A: Eh-Hole.

"Mad World" by Tears For Fears

When you’re going to school in the suburban nightmare that is Chehalis, Washington, you do whatever you can to maintain your innocence and creativity before some wise ass bully takes it away from you. From the summer of 1999 to October of that same year, my creativity and innocence led me to a Tears For Fears song called “Mad World”. The groovy 80’s synthesizers and Roland Orzabal’s vocals turned my pre-war mind into a rainbow-colored playground.

“Mad World” would bring about two different visuals in my imagination. One of them was playing Super Mario Kart and going through the Rainbow Road course. I didn’t have a favorite character at the time, but no matter who I used, I always enjoyed the colorful track despite falling off of it six or seven times during the race. The videogame soundtrack already uses cheerful and beautiful synthesizers to document the racers’ journey through this heavenly place. “Mad World” also has cheerful and beautiful synthesizers, so maybe it too could be used to move the racers along.

One train of thought leads to another and then they derail into a gorgeous disaster. I was working on a videogame idea called Super Final Fantasy (before Final Fantasy Hardcore) where the main character was a trench coat wearing, shotgun toting teenager with an axe to grind. Actually, his only weapon was the shotgun, he didn’t carry an axe, but you get what I’m saying. Since Final Fantasy 7 had the Golden Saucer and its many side quests, I figured Super Final Fantasy should have one of its own: the rainbow road-themed rollerblading park.

In order to earn new and better equipment for his party, Sage Gannon, the shotgun toting teenager in question, would have to put on his rollerblades and skate up the rainbow tower and into the calming night skies in a race against other opponents. It’s like the Chocobo race in Final Fantasy 7’s Golden Saucer park, but with humans instead of big ass chickens. Oh, and did I mention that “Mad World” would be the soundtrack for this rollerblade race? Did I also mention that there would be a molten pit in the center of the skate park? Yes, that sounds like a mad world to me. I don’t see Tony Hawk doing this shit.

Sage Gannon was going to rise to new heights whether he actually got to the top of the rainbow tower or not. That rollerblading gimmick was going to be gold. And then a little voice in my head told me to stop exploiting the Final Fantasy franchise and create stories of my own without the brand name. You know who told me that? Squall Leonhart from Final Fantasy 8. Yes, I realize he’s not a real person. If I’m taking advice from a fictional videogame character, then that means my schizophrenia probably started earlier than 2002. I’m still having a debate with myself as to whether this is the case or not, but either way, it was definitely made worse when the bullying started.

I still to this day enjoy the concept of a rainbow road. I still want to develop that concept into a skate park slash tower with a lava pit in the middle. And I still listen to “Mad World” to this day. Before I put the finishing touches on this song review, I want everyone to know I strictly prefer the Tears For Fears version over the Gary Jules version. All Gary Jules did for the song was play a piano and sing in hushed tones. That’s fine and good, but it’s not the best strategy if you’re trying to narrate action in a rainbow-themed skate park. Somehow, Gary Jules doesn’t bring the same Final Fantasy excitement that Tears For Fears does. So thank you, Tears For Fears, for giving me something to dream about even after my mind was incapable of dreaming due to the numbness and exhaustion.

　

***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

MR. GARRISON: Hey, Mr. Slave, I had a dream last night that you were being a real dick.

MR. SLAVE: Really? Why would you dream that I was being an asshole?

MR. GARRISON: No, no, Mr. Slave, I was the asshole.

-South Park-

Names I Will Never Use

We all have to encounter people we absolutely have a deep hatred for at some point in our lives. Like Times New Roman, you know the type. They torment you over a long period of time to the point where their name is a curse word. I have a few names that are like that for me and therefore, when I do my writing, I won’t use them when I’m introducing characters to my stories. Who knows? I may use those names for Complete Monster villains that are going to get their comeuppance eventually in my story, but it’s highly unlikely. Until somebody somewhere makes the name “cool” again, the name will go completely ignored in my stories. For instance, I used to have an aversion to the name Aaron because I got beat up in high school by a kid with that name. But when I started watching MMA and I started hearing about people named Aaron Simpson, Aaron Rosa, and Aaron Riley, the name was cool again and I started using it more often. I have characters named Aaron Jackson “AJ” Rollins and Aaron Edge, the former being a psychotic mercenary and the latter being a dark comedian. I also used to have an aversion to the name Cody because in middle school I had an aggressive bully with that name. Ever since purchasing a copy of Final Fight for the Super Nintendo and playing as a boxer named Cody, the name stopped being forbidden. You see where I’m going with this? If the name becomes used in a positive way, then I won’t have an aversion to it and I’ll use it for my characters. The most noteworthy character for Cody is a female MMA fighter who has an I at the end of her name instead of a Y. Her last name is Oliveira, by the way, and she’s a Brazilian Jiu-Jitzu ace. But then there are some names out there that have no redemption value whatsoever, mainly because nobody names their children that anymore. The most prominent example of a name that will never be cool to me is Art. I had a step-father named Art who was verbally abusive to me and my mom, so that hits close to home. I know there are people out there with the name Art that I can like. I like Art Evans (the crazy old man from the third story of Tales From the Hood), Art Wicks (an English teacher I had in college), and Art Dent (the main character from The Hitchhiker’s Guide To the Galaxy, which is on this blog). Despite three perfectly cool people with the name Art, the name Art itself isn’t very pleasant sounding. If I ever use it in my stories, it’ll be as a last name such as Arthur or McArthur. The second and final example of a name beyond redemption is Cindy. I had a senior social studies teacher named Cindy who like Art was verbally abusive. As of today, nobody in my current life has made the name Cindy cool. I guess I should cite Cyndi Lauper as an example of someone who did, but her music sucks, so no. The only time I’ve ever used the name Cindy in a story was for someone who was a bitchy girlfriend to a comedian named Marcus Edge (Aaron Edge’s brother). As of today, the only two names that have no redemption value to me are Art and Cindy. I’ve had a lot of people express hatred toward me, but their names were made cool again, so I don’t worry about that anymore. In the words of Mike “The Streets” Skinner, do you understand or do you need an interpreter?

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Did you hear the one about me giving a shit? ‘Cause if I ever did, I don’t remember it!”

-Five Finger Death Punch singing “Under and Over It”-