Aladdin Is the Reason 90's Kids Grew Up Kinky

 

Magneto from X-Men: the Arcade Game vs. Lauren Boebert

 

Magneto's dialogue was a typo in the arcade game. Lauren Boebert's dialogue was intentional.

Landon Bryce (Millennium) X Elly Chandler (Chandler & Co): Trauma Buddies, Not Lovers

 

Those are lyrics from "Invisible Sun" by The Police. And yes, the asshole who kidnapped Elly would in fact kill her for a cigarette. Hell, he'd kill her for less.

Anti-Millennial Bigotry

***ANTI-MILLENNIAL BIGOTRY***

I’m not a confrontational person by any stretch of the imagination. I don’t talk about politics on a frequent basis and I dread getting in debates with people. However, as someone who was born in 1985, I feel like if I don’t write this blog entry, it’ll be a missed opportunity to put myself out there. This is a sensitive topic for me, so bear with me for a minute. I’m talking of course about ageism, particularly against people born in the 80’s and 90’s a.k.a. Millennials.

Being a Generation Y member should never be associated with laziness or selfishness. Those are stereotypes based on limited information. Some Millennials fit the stereotypes, some don’t, just like with any other group of people. It’s like saying all black people love fried chicken or all gay people think about sex 24/7. Again, those are stereotypes and they don’t apply to everyone. Yet ageism against young adults seems to slip through the cracks and is widely accepted by both liberals and conservatives of older generations. They see some of us texting on our phones and think the entire population is suddenly doomed.

No generation is without their own set of stereotypes. For example, I could easily label Generation X members as whiny drug addicts or Prozac chugging slackers, but I’m not going to say any of those things, because I’m not an asshole. I could also say Baby Boomers and Great Generation members are a bunch of boring storytellers who can’t shut up about walking 100 miles in the snow, but again, that would make me an asshole and that’s not who I am. So why would it be okay to say that every millennial on this planet is a self-important text-messaging queen? Every last one of them? Not just some? Not just a few? All of them?

As a millennial myself, I do admit to fitting in with at least SOME of the stereotypes against us, but not because my birth year was magically selected to be 1985. I’m open about the fact that I’m unemployed and live with my parents.

I’m not unemployed because I’m lazy and therefore don’t want a job. I’m unemployed because after sending my resume to a bunch of different work sites and doing countless interviews, the bosses still said no. It happens a lot, especially since millennials hit their pique during the Bush-era recession. Older people love to blame laziness, but that’s simply not true. Truth is, you can dress in your nicest clothes, you can work your hardest, you can give the most agreeable answers, and give 100% of yourself during an interview, but in the end, you, the Generation Y member, are not the one who makes the decisions in the workplace. Otherwise, unemployment wouldn’t be a major stereotype for my generation. If we could work, we would. We know full well that money isn’t everything, but it is something.

I don’t live with my parents because of financial worries. I live with them for two main reasons. One, I love being in their company. Two, we have a symbiotic relationship where we help each other. As Baby Boomers, my mom and step-dad can’t do as much physical labor as they could in their younger years. My mother has hip and knee problems that she can only find relief from on a temporary basis. My step-dad Dale has been battling a kidney stone since the last month. While I don’t enjoy heavy lifting or any other kind of strenuous labor, I do it because I love my parents and I don’t want them to get hurt. If you can’t take care of each other, who can you take care of? It’s natural to want to surround yourself with people who make you feel good and that’s something that spans all generations.

While I’ll always condemn people who unfairly criticize young adults for laziness and entitlement, there is one thing I will share common ground with them on: smart phones. I agree with the idea that being in real world company should trump text messaging or playing videogames on a smart phone. It’s a basic form of respect. Corey Taylor from Slipknot once smacked a phone out of someone’s hands during a performance because that audience member was texting instead of watching the show. I grinned from ear to ear at Mr. Taylor’s display.

I myself don’t need a smart phone for anything that my desktop computer can do better. I have a generic cell phone that I only use for emergencies, whether it’s bumming a ride or needing to know where a family member is. And before you criticize me for not having my own car and therefore being a lazy millennial, I should let you know that crashing on the highway and spreading one’s guts all over the tarmac isn’t a pleasant experience for any age group.

Millennials are just like any other group of people in this world. Some are good, some are evil. Some are smart, some are dumb. Some are happy, some are sad. There will always be standouts who defy stereotypes no matter what group of people you’re talking about. George Carlin, a member of the Great Generation, is definitely not a droning storyteller; he’s one of the funniest comedians of all time. The main cast of the new Ghostbusters movie are not a bunch of bikini-wearing sex machines; they’re normal women who do extraordinary things in their movie. Q-Tip, a born-again Muslim rapper, is not secretly plotting to blow up buildings with a suicide vest; he’s putting out kick-ass music and helping younger rappers get noticed.

While ageism should be recognized as being like any other form of bigotry, it somehow became normal along the way. Bill Maher, a liberal-libertarian pundit, once called ageism “The last acceptable prejudice” and then turned around and referred to Millennials as “Generation Ass” because he saw a picture on Twitter of a woman with a giant posterior. Ageism has become one of those things that spans many belief systems and cultures while no real progress is being made against it. There are even members of Generation Y who criticize their own age group.

I don’t know how young people ageism became acceptable, but I can assure you that it has nothing to do with all of this sweet technology and “free shit” we have. No generation wants to pass the torch to the next. I even had a hard time passing the torch to Generation Z because of all the Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez songs that were being published. Reina, my Generation Z niece, doesn’t fit those stereotypes because she’d rather listen to bands like Breaking Benjamin and 3 Doors Down. That’s right, folks. I used to be just another ignorant ageist myself. And then I posted a 2009 essay where I joked about ruling over teenagers with an iron fist if I ever became an English teacher. That didn’t go over too well with the Deviant Art community, because surprise, surprise, ageism is just as bad as any other form of prejudice. As we all know, prejudice isn’t just insulting, but it can hurt us on an even deeper level whether it’s with employment, police treatment, or social status.

I’m going to ask something that’s been asked many times before, but nobody gave a definitive answer to. Can’t we all just get along?

***JOKE OF THE DAY***

Q: What do you call it when a McDonald’s employee goes berserk?

A: Minimum rage.

"The Girlfriend Wager" by Edward Davies

BOOK TITLE: The Girlfriend Wager
AUTHOR: Edward Davies
YEAR: 2015
GENRE: Fiction
SUBGENRE: Sex Drama-Comedy
GRADE: Pass


In 1990’s England, five college buddies, Rob, Kent, Adrian, Jim, and Hugh, get together in a bar one night and make a wager with each other. Whoever could keep a relationship with a girl for at least three months while having sex at least once would have the rest of the group pay for his drinks after the college year was over. Girl shyness, awkward behavior, previous lovers, and many other strange obstacles get in the way of determining a true victor. Hearts are broken, embarrassments happen, and the only escape for these five friends is a giant glass of cold beer. Is anybody really a winner in this story or are these five virgins just a group of sad sops?

I’m going to start with the biggest reason why this e-book gets a passing grade. The concepts of girl shyness, social awkwardness, virginity, and fear of rejection all resonate with me on a deep level. Yes, this is intended to be funny in some places, but that doesn’t stop the book from speaking the truth from time to time. When I went to high school and college, I was one of the wallflowers who stayed in the background while being protected from the emotional despair of romance. Everyone was always saying to me, “Just ask her out! It’s no big deal! If she says no, just move on to the next one!” If love was that easy, I’d have a whole harem of girls coming after me. But as I’ve found out both from my own experiences with dating and from reading this book, it’s complicated on so many levels. I want to love and be loved, but getting my foot in the door is harder for me than it is for the five friends, and that’s saying something.

Before I get too far into a rant, I have to discuss the other reason why this book gets a passing grade: the pacing. While it is true the book is 400-plus pages long, it reads so quickly that you won’t feel bogged down by too much description. Besides, most of the descriptions come from 90’s pop culture references that I actually understand, so the pacing is even better. If you’re an author and comedy is your intended genre, you don’t want to spend too much time on funny descriptions. The jokes were delivered with such rapid-fire wit that I basically blitzed through the entire story with no potholes or traffic lights along the way. It helps that the witty aspects of this book come from the author using a lot of British vernacular like “fancy” and “bullocks”. I swear it’s like listening to a CD by The Streets, except funnier…for the most part.

There would have been a time when I considered giving this book an extra credit grade, or five stars for all of you Good Reads and Amazon junkies. However, there are certain unforgivable flaws that keep me from doing so. Try as he might to edit this story down to its last detail, Mr. Davies left behind a few glaring mistakes, such as Becca calling Hugh “Paul” and a sentence that reads “Kent glared at Kent”. But these are things Edward Davies could fix on the fly and not break too much of a sweat.

But then you have the pornographic aspects of the book which make the story seem slightly unrealistic. Yes, it’s realistic in the sense that shyness and awkwardness get in the way of a lot of good relationships. But when I say pornographic aspects, I’m talking about all of the women having large breasts, giant asses, and an easy way to get to know them. Plus, there’s a lot of talk about sticking things in their vaginas and squeezing their titties, which are also things you’d find in a cheap porn movie. Granted, this book is somewhat based on Edward Davies’ past at college and a lot of his friends really did talk like that. But even with that background realness, I’m not sure if I’m supposed to take the book seriously or jack off to it like a Playboy magazine.

I’m not going to bring the hammer down too hard on Edward, because all in all, this book earned all four of its stars. While it is true the two of us are good friends online, I’m giving him the passing grade out of respect for his book, not out of service to our friendship. I firmly believe Edward Davies has what it takes to launch his literature into the mainstream one day. He just needs to spend a little quality time with the realism and grammatical aspects of his manuscript before sending it out. Before I read “The Girlfriend Wager”, I delved into “Divine Intervention”, another book by Mr. Davies. I’d definitely say “The Girlfriend Wager” is a huge improvement from his last effort, so you’re damn right there’s hope for him. Hell, it might be a sure thing that he becomes successful!

Wendi Kael

NAME: Wendi Kael
AGE: 10
OCCUPATION: Elementary School Student
CANON: Kill the Power Rangers


When my niece Reina was little and still living with me and my family, she watched a lot of corny cartoons on my TV, among them Spongebob Squarepants. Whenever she did something wrong, I would threaten her by saying, “If you do that one more time, I’m going to kill Spongebob!” She saw right through me. It’s not like I could leap into the TV and strangle the shit out of Spongebob and his friends right in front of Reina. Well, I could leap into the TV, but not only would I have nothing to watch my shows with, but I’d have glass cuts to show for it. Killing Reina’s favorite cartoon characters was a benign threat, but it was one that amused me to where I wanted to write a short story about it.

In the case of 10-year-old Wendi Kael, her favorite TV show was the early 90’s version of the Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers. The flamboyant martial arts, the giant dinosaur robots that could form into one badass (reminds me of Voltron), and of course, there was everybody’s favorite Power Ranger who would one day become a legitimate mixed-martial artist: Tommy Oliver aka The Green Ranger, played by Jason David Frank. Was Wendi old enough to have crushes on older gentlemen such as Mr. Frank? Maybe an innocent schoolgirl one, but nothing more.

In the end, it didn’t matter how emotionally invested Wendi Kael was in her show, because her mother’s boyfriend Chad was determined to screw it all up for her. All that fatherly anger over poor grades in school and Chad knew physical punishment would land him in jail. So what was the next way to break Wendi into becoming a serious student? Kill the Power Rangers, of course. But how was Chad going to do it? He can’t leap into the TV unless he wants to be slashed to pieces by the screen glass. Beating up a stuffed toy of the Green Ranger is even less convincing. In order to make the death of The Power Rangers convincing, Chad had to get disturbingly creative.

Wendi came home from school one day and went back to her room to find The Green Ranger’s rotten corpse lying in her bed gathering flies and bloodying the sheets. Then Wendi went into the garage and found the Yellow and Pink Rangers lynched from the ceiling. Then she went to the backyard and found the Black Ranger lynched from the oak tree (that’s not racist at all). And then she found the Blue Ranger in the tool shed bent over a saw horse with a rake handle shoved up his ass (that’s not homophobic at all). Okay, so these weren’t the real Power Rangers; they were just already dead bodies dressed in their uniforms, which begs the disgusting question of where Chad got the dead bodies.

I tried to pass this story off as black comedy and it would have succeeded in getting those due chuckles. But then the story had to be terminated due to its Deus Ex Machina ending. Chad gets into a standoff with the police and the Red Ranger’s sword miraculously flies through the overbearing step-dad’s throat. Did I also mention that next week the world will end? But don’t worry, because we’ll be saved at the zero hour by a mutant fish koala bird. Clerks came out in 1994 and the original Power Rangers show came out a little earlier, so I didn’t set my time machine too far back.

The black comedy of killing a child’s favorite TV characters could still work in some capacity and Wendi Kael would definitely be the one who took the burden of such heavy jokes. If anybody needs discipline in her life, it’s an obnoxious 10-year-old who doesn’t give a shit about school and watches more TV shows than she reads books. This is the kind of traumatizing tough love she needs to get back on track. But it has to be more convincing and more legal than what Chad did. Otherwise, the joke will fall on deaf ears.

I think I’ve found the perfect solution to “kill” Wendi Kael’s fictional characters: with drawings. So she has a crush on The Green Ranger? Fine. Let’s tie him down to a torture table and have Rita Repulsa put a spring-loaded clamp on the base of his penis. Okay, that might have been influenced by Tales From the Hood, another movie from the 90’s time machine. So let’s be original with our Rangers. Let’s have the Blue Ranger get sodomized by Zed and Maynard from Pulp Fiction, another movie from the 90’s. Let’s have The Black Ranger’s mouth get taken away by Agent Smith from The Matrix, here we go again with the fucking 90’s movies. Anachronisms aside, the point of these drawings is to put the Rangers in violent or sexual situations that would disgust a normal human being. I’ve drawn many pictures like that of Bugs Bunny and Inspector Gadget and showed them to my best friend Susan. She was horrified.

Okay, so we’ve sent poor Wendi Kael to therapy at least once during this rehabilitation process. Now what? Does she spiral into madness or does she become a respectable citizen in the making? A small part of me is leaning towards spiraling into madness. Children as young as 10 don’t have the mental toughness to question the bullshit they’re being fed. They’ll believe anything adults tell them whether it’s detrimental or beneficial. That’s why a lot of teachers get away with insulting their students into becoming soul-dead conformists: when the kids are that young, they’re vulnerable. Come to think of it, this might sound more like psychological horror than black comedy. The only way it could ever be black comedy is if Wendi Kael was on an episode of either Robot Chicken or Family Guy.

　

***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

BARTENDER: How far are you willing to take this?

MARCELLUS WALLACE: I’m ready to scour the earth for that motherfucker. If he’s hiding out in Indo-China, I want a nigga hiding in a bowl of rice ready to pop a cap in his ass.

-Pulp Fiction, a movie from the 90’s time machine-

Tony Wayne

NAME: Tony Wayne
AGE: 30
OCCUPATION: Competitive Motorcyclist
CANON: The Motorcycle Man


If there’s ever any doubt as to whether or not Tony Wayne should be on my unemployed list, consider this: “The Motorcycle Man” was a movie script I wrote in the early 90’s. When I was alive and well in the early 90’s, I was still going to elementary school in Vancouver, Washington. Do you think that a little kid at that age has it in him to write a full-length movie script? That’s a lot of work for someone that small. I had a hard enough time figuring out adding and subtracting.

Paying attention to literary details? That was clearly asking too much. The script for The Motorcycle Man amounted to me writing all of the dialogue for Tony Wayne and nothing more. The “script” was about as long as a half sheet of sketching paper. But it must have been a movie script, because it had the Parntitmount (which was how I spelled “Paramount”) logo at the beginning of it. Back then I took more interest in the vanity logos than I did with the actual movies. Comprehension was not my strong suit when I was a kid. Then again, it might be because I was born with autism. Or it could be because I was a kid and didn’t know better.

The vision I had for this movie came about when I went to a yard sale with my mom and she got me a little toy motorcycle with a rubber rider on top of it. I would run this motorcycle all over the furniture thinking the couches, desks, and boxes were all part of an elaborate obstacle course. I could have fight scenes, chase scenes, and the occasional gratuitous showing off with this toy alone. Tony Wayne, at least in my imagination, was America’s next big action movie hero.

You’re probably wondering why I would resurrect a character from my childhood and bring him into my adult life considering Tony Wayne didn’t have a whole lot going for him in the way of development. You would be right to ask such a bold question, because Tony’s resume is a blank slate at this point. Yes, he entertained me for hours as a toy, but as a character in one of my stories, he doesn’t have much to work with.

Okay, so he’s a motorcyclist and an action hero. Since I’m not into motocross or anything like that, I should just stick Tony in the action hero category. If that’s the case, he would be a lot like those guys in “The Fast and The Furious”: a bunch of con men trying to get away with something. But since Tony is meant to be a hero, his conning could be seen as an homage to Robin Hood. Let’s see if his motorcycle trickery can get him across the Canadian border when he makes off with a backpack full of Citi Bank’s money.

I know, I know. It’s a backpack, so mass wealth distribution isn’t going to work out the way he had hoped. But maybe he can bring the backpack to a homeless hangout that’s really personal to him. One act of Robin Hood kindness can spread quicker than a Trojan Horse virus on the internet. Would that mean Tony Wayne has partners in crime? The more, the merrier! He could start his own motorcycle gang and do good for the people instead of exploiting them like the Hell’s Angels and Mongrels do.

Anywhere with an action and adventure setting is sure to attract a thrill-seeker such as Tony Wayne. He could visit Disneyland and ride his motorcycle across the rollercoaster tracks in an attempt to thwart an evil plot. He could jump across the Grand Canyon to thwart another evil plot. He could ride across the stage at Carolina Rebellion and have Lamb of God be his live soundtrack. That’s the beautiful thing about having a clean slate: they’re fun to fill up. Would you rather have an experienced character who has so much baggage or would you rather have a young gun you can mold into whatever you want? Think about it.

　

***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Neville is so quick that every time I try to call his matches, I get more confused than a chameleon in a bag of Skittles.”

-Jerry Lawler-