Alex De Large from A Clockwork Orange vs. iilluminaughtii

 

The lyrics in the top panel are a paraphrase of "Love Is Blue", definitely not the Paul Mauriat version. Imagine if Alex listened to that instead of Beethoven while he was being tortured.

Dope vs. The News Cycle

 

The lyrics in the bottom panel are from the Dope song "Debonaire". But yeah, I can't watch political content anymore without losing my fucking mind. Even if I agree with what they're saying, it's still disaster porn. It's bad for my mental health.

Clockwork Orange Milk Over My Cereal

***BEFORE I BEGIN***

I know it’s been a while since you’ve last heard from me. And by a while, I mean only a few days, which doesn’t seem like much to the laymen in my life, but to me it’s an eternity. I’ve been busy lately. I currently divide my time between editing the shit out of Emilio and the Scratching Post (which I now want to rename to Emilio & Marigold) and taking naps in the middle of the day for no reason. The editing process has been just a tad overwhelming at times, even more so now that I’ve got a bunch of macro edits staring me in the face. But the good news is, I’ve learned how to create biographies for my characters. So now their actions have a purpose. Now my short story can be…a character-driven fairytale! Woo-hoo! Wish me luck! I’m going to need it! And now for a more lighthearted topic! We now return you to your regularly scheduled program.

***CLOCKWORK ORANGE MILK OVER MY CEREAL***

“Alcohol: because no great story ever started with a glass of milk.”

(Cue the picture of Alex De Large from A Clockwork Orange drinking Moloko Velochek.)

The other night, I was eating a bowl of Life cereal and the milk reminded me of that opening scene from A Clockwork Orange. And that got me thinking: what if I actually poured Moloko Velochek over my cereal and ate it? No, I have no idea where this thought will take me. It’s nothing more than a good idea.

My obsession with drug-laced milk didn’t end there. Last night I ate hot wings at the Tracyton Pub with my brother James, his friend Blake, and their mutual friend Jeffrey. I ordered fifteen breaded wings of the spiciest flavor the pub had: Death Wish. My mouth was on fire, my nose was dripping like a waterfall, and the next day my asshole was leaking lava. Milk is the only thing that will calm down a fiery mouth, so I drank two glasses of it at the pub and multiple glasses when I got home. I couldn’t help but hear the Clockwork Orange opening theme playing in my head as I downed the milk. That quickly changed when James drove me and Blake home at a bajillion miles per hour while playing “Rollin’” by Limp Bizkit at maximum volume. For the record, James hates Limp Bizkit.

Luckily, I didn’t go out for a night of “ultra-violence with my droogs”, fast driving aside. I also didn’t get brainwashed into becoming a pacifist, which would suck if I still watched WWE on a regular basis. The thought of becoming violently ill at Ricochet’s aerial offence or Braun Strowman’s powerhouse slams would be depressing as fuck. While it is hard to feel sorry for violent criminals, it’s even harder to feel good about brainwashing the fuck out of them to where they can’t even defend themselves. And while we’re at it, was it really necessary to play Alex’s favorite music during the torture process? Imagine if that happened to me. Not only could I not watch pro-wrestling, but I also couldn’t listen to heavy metal anymore. What a big bag of suck life would be.

I don’t really have any philosophical thoughts beyond all of this. I didn’t even anticipate how short this topic would be. So I’ll just call it a night and post this sucker on my social media accounts. I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like throwing up, keep listening to…nah, don’t do that.

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Say when! We’re outlaws wanted dead or alive under the cover of a blood red sky. Bring a knife to a gunfight and we still win. Pale horse is coming. Retribution for sin. Skin that smoke wagon. I said throw down, boy. You going to do something or just stand there and bleed? If you want to die, say when. If you want to play for blood, just say when. Say when! Domination to anything that’s in our way. Life mowers are coming and stocking the graves. It’s futile to run and there’s nowhere to hide. So get down on your knees and pray for your life. Should I hate him? He reminds me of me. Now I know I hate him. So now it’s time to bleed. If you want to die, say when. If you want to play for blood, just say when. This is how the war is won. Cultivate the blood that we feed on. Sanguis! Credat apaella non ego. Eventus stoltorum magister. In pace requiescat. I want your blood. I want your soul. Do you want to play for blood? I’m your huckleberry. Sanguis! Credat apaella non ego. Eventus stoltorum magister. In pace requiescat. Just say when!”

-Hellyeah singing “Say When”-

Conditioned to Ignore Me

VERSE 1

The Clockwork Orange magic spell

Gave you a brainwashed story to tell

Conditioned to ignore me no matter what

Whether I hurt inside or have a deeper cut

I could burn a building to the ground

Or I could rescue an abused hound

Optimist, pessimist, who gives a fuck?

If it’s a cry for help, I’m shit out of luck

CHORUS

Conditioned to ignore me

Because you find me boring

Because I’m down on my knees

Begging for me to finally be seen

VERSE 2

Pavlov’s sorcery has got you by the balls

Conditioned to laugh whenever I fall

Conditioned to walk right past me

Conditioned to low-key blast me

It’s meat paste and the bell once again

Making drooling slaves out of good friends

I could burn the world or buy you pearls

Who’d give a fuck? Any boy or girl?

CHORUS

Conditioned to ignore me

Because you find me boring

Because I’m down on my knees

Begging for me to finally be seen

VERSE 3

I could hack the biggest computer database

I could kiss my kitty on his fuzzy little face

I could ride a nuclear missile like a horsy

I could pet every Labrador and every Corgi

Your conditioned response is still the same

To forget that I exist or that I have a name

Who put this spell on your pretty little head?

Who was the one who wished your soul dead?

EXTENDED CHORUS

Conditioned to ignore me

Because you find me boring

Because I’m down on my knees

Begging for me to finally be seen

Conditioned to reject me

Chew me up then digest me

Because I can’t scream loud enough

Somebody else already has it rough

My Name In Your Mouth

***MY NAME IN YOUR MOUTH***

Before I begin with the body of this blog entry, I want everybody to know that this isn’t aimed at anybody in particular nor is it meant to be an attack in the first place. This is about something that’s been going on in my mind for quite a while now. I’m sure a lot of my writer friends can relate, or at least I hope they do. But anytime somebody mentions me in association with my writing in real life or in a You Tube video…I panic. I get this anxious sensation in the pit of my tummy and my first instinct is to turn around and run away (or cringe if I don’t have an available exit). These people could be saying the nicest, friendliest things about my work, but I’m still Clockwork Oranged into believing it’s worth being nervous about. Why is that?

I’m no stranger to criticism and I’ve had a lot of it in my career. But I’m also at a place in my life where I’ve come to depend on critiques and notes like the mature adult that I am. Although critiques are necessary to any author’s success, it doesn’t make the nervousness go away. In fact, the longer I have to wait for it, the higher the anxiety builds. Yes, I know I sound like a sensitive snowflake with thin skin and a strong need for a safe space. If I could choose to be more durable, I’d be fucking invincible. It never gets easier for me with age and I can’t understand why.

I’ll always remember a time in late 2010 when I wrote music-themed fan fiction and posted it live on Face Book. One of those stories was called “Awake and Alive” and it was about a young man named Junie Fritz, who wanted to break his own shyness by going to a Skillet concert in Seattle and making friends with a cute girl named Shawn Tucker. My brother’s girlfriend at the time Susan (who doesn’t live with us anymore) caught me in the hallway and said, “So I read your story about Junie!” Without missing a beat I wave goodbye to her and try to retreat into my room. Turns out she liked the story and wanted to praise it (despite the fact that Junie rode a fucking ATV to the arena).

Another example of wanting to cringe and/or retreat was Mother’s Day earlier this year, when I gifted my mom a copy of Poison Tongue Tales. She’s one of my biggest fans and wanted to see a sample of what I’ve published, so I gave her that. She was so happy to have it and immediately jumped into the Two-Sentence Horror Stories section. I cringed hard when she read some of those stories out loud, not because of her, but because I was listening to my own writing and I wanted to get the fuck out of there. It’s like I’ve been conditioned into thinking my own writing sucks by the various haters I’ve had over the years.

Still to this day I have that anxious feeling whenever somebody wants to talk about my writing in real life or on You Tube. Sometimes I feel this way whenever it’s in written form. For a guy who’s trying to market myself to the public so that I can get as many book sales as possible, this is quite the barrier. I should WANT to have my name in people’s mouths. I should WANT the free advertising. I should WANT to have the limelight on me 24/7. But I feel tiny every time my writing comes up in conversation.

Sometimes it’s not even a low self-esteem issue. Sometimes I write a personal story in an email or social media post and there’s a certain part of that story that makes me nervous to talk about it. Just the other day, I wrote an email to my mother detailing why I didn’t want to go on dates when I was in middle school. The biggest reason was because my dad was going through nasty shit with his ex-wives at the time, so I didn’t want to pay alimony or child support to another woman (even though I was fucking thirteen). I told mom that I didn’t want to play second fiddle to a girlfriend who would no doubt prevent me from achieving my college dreams. It didn’t help matters that I watched the Millennium episode “A Room with No View” right around that time and saw Lucy Butler get touchy-feely and kissy-kissy with her hostages. Obviously, things have changed since then and if the opportunity presented itself, I’d definitely go on a date with a nice woman. But still, that was quite the revelation for my mother.

So why all the nervousness? Why all the fuss? Why can’t I just put on my suit of armor and deflect bullets like Superman? Why can’t I just…you know…”toughen up”, like a stereotypical male would say in a Skillset Magazine article? Did my mental illnesses make me this way? Am I just a naturally sensitive person? Do I have too much empathy? Does anybody else feel this sense of panic whenever they hear their own writing? Have I really been Clockwork Oranged into believing I suck? What’s going on here? I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying….well, that would be a good time to retreat to your room and lock the door. No mountain climbing until you calm the fuck down.

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER PROGRESS***

As of today, I’ve written the prologue and first two chapters of this reloaded project. The third chapter will see an argument take place between Torger Manson and Shelly Atwood. Torger wants Shelly to be a businesswoman first and a lover second if she’s going to deny him access to the sex slaves. If you’re not cringing right now, check your pulse. Shelly has already forcibly deflowered Windham, so any conversation she has with Torger about sex will give you the feeling of spiders crawling on your skin. Wish me luck!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Between suicide and all your dirty lies. Are you looking sad for girls? Are you looking bad for sympathy? Between suicide and secrets that you hide. Are you feeling pain like birds? Are you trading pearls for misery? It’s getting hard to say open your eyes. Needles haven’t fixed anything. I guess we’re millions of faces waiting somewhere for somebody else’s place to feel like home. Love is a refuge with fears and doubts. It’s the Jesus on your necklace. Love is a silence to your cry outs. Sleepless hideouts. The cheapest, the fabulous.”

-Your Favorite Enemies singing “Open Your Eyes”-

You're Not Good Enough Book Tag

***YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH BOOK TAG***

The only reason why I know this tag exists is because Lily C Reads did a You Tube video of it two years ago. It looked like a shit ton of fun and Lily is a funny motherfucker in this video, so I figured I should do this tag too. The rules are simple: create a roster of thirty book characters of your choosing and randomly choose two of them to answer each of the fifteen questions. Are you ready? I know I am!

1. You only have one more spot on your Spelling Bee team, who would you pick to complete your team?

Options: Rick Hunter (Robotech) or Charlie (The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky)

Choice: Two guys who can’t figure out their love lives, but only one of them takes an interest in writing and literature. This one’s easy: Charlie. Although, I might change my mind if one of the words is Zentradae (even I don’t know how to spell that).

2. Both characters want to kill you, which one would you kill first so you have a better chance of surviving?

Options: Julie (Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion) or Deckard Cain (Diablo series)

Choice: Julie is a tried and true survivalist and Deckard Cain is an old man with bad joints. Hmm…which one is the greater threat to me? Sorry, Julie, but you’re taking the dirt nap tonight. My dead cat Smokey is a bigger threat to me than Deckard Cain ever will be.

3. You’re on the bachelor/bachelorette and you’re down to these two characters, which one are you going to give your rose too?

Options: Ava Bigtree (Swamplandia by Karen Russell) or The Woman (The Woman by Jack Ketchum)

Choice: So basically, you’re asking me to choose between statutory rape and the possibility of getting my guts ripped out. Sorry, ladies, you two are on your own. I’d rather be forced to choose between death and unga-bunga (only to get killed via unga-bunga).

4. You’ve been chosen for the Hunger Games, who would most likely volunteer in your place?

Options: Skink (Carl Hiaasen’s books) or Batman

Choice: This one’s a tough call since they’re both certified badasses and can rip an opponent to shreds within seconds. Ultimately, I’ll have to go with Skink since he’s used to survivalist scenarios, ergo why he lives out in the woods in Florida wearing just a shower cap and a raincoat.

5. You’re stranded on an island. Which character would you sacrifice to engage in cannibalism?

Options: Abby Abernathy (Walking Disaster by Jamie McGuire) or Christian Grey (Fifty Shades of Grey)

Choice: The sexual overtones in this question and its choices are more obvious than a boner on the subway. But since Christian Grey has more muscle on his body, his sacrifice will last longer, so I’m going to choose him. Plus, he’s a grade A douche, so nobody will miss him.

6. You’re the next DC/Marvel superhero (with your own tv show of course), who is your sidekick?

Options: Anastasia Steele (Fifty Shades of Grey) or Peeta Mellark (The Hunger Games)

Choice: This one’s a no-brainer if I ever saw one. I’m going with Peeta the ass-kicking machine. If I went with Anastasia, it’s basically giving my opponents a license to shoot me. I think I’d rather be tortured by a supervillain than listen to Ana’s whining throughout our demise.

7. You’re a manager of an Avocado admiring company, who would you fire for lack of communication skills?

Options: Sonya Blade (Mortal Kombat) or Tulip O’Haire (Preacher)

Choice: I’m being asked to choose between two badass women who would cut me from asshole to appetite if I crossed them. But as far as communication skills go, I’d cut Sonya from the team since Tulip has a way with raunchy dialogue. I need all the swear words I can muster up if I’m going to admire avocado.

8. You’ve just finished a book in which your favorite character dies, which character is most likely to comfort you?

Options: Margo Roth Spiegelman (Paper Towns by John Green) or Kick-Ass

Choice: Kick-Ass would probably tell me to suck it up and be a man, so he’d be of no help. The only way I could justify choosing Margo is if I can fucking find her, wherever she is. She kind of has a knack for making herself scarce when her friends need her the most. And even if you do find her…ugh…

9. Ugh, it’s high school. Who would most likely be part of the popular clique?

Options: Marlon Bundo (John Oliver and Jill Twiss’s version of A Day in the Life of Marlon Bundo) or Twilight Lady (Watchmen)

Choice: Hmm…a gay rabbit or a seductive female pimp? Well, since popular cliques in high school tend to be more shallow minded, I’m giving the nod to Twilight Lady since she can hook up the horny teenagers with sex and fun. I’d actually fear for Marlon Bundo’s safety since popular kids love to bully LGBT students.

10. The day has arrived; you’re finally a year older! Who would have the nerve to forget your birthday?

Options: Clarice Starling (Silence of the Lambs) or Scorpion (Mortal Kombat)

Choice: Scorpion doesn’t give a rat’s ass about anybody’s birthdays since he’s too busy breathing fire on his opponents and sticking harpoons through their chests. I’m giving him the nod, obviously. At least with Clarice Starling, it’s forgivable if she forgets your birthday because she’s always busy catching criminals. Being a detective is stressful work.

11. You’ve just found an upcoming booktube star? Who would most likely be?

Options: Cherry Pye (Star Island by Carl Hiaasen) or Tobias Kaya (The Savior’s Champion by Jenna Moreci)

Choice: I’m not sure Cherry Pye even knows how to fucking read. She’s a dumbass pop star with a shallow point of view and no talent, so she doesn’t have much of a chance. Tobias, on the other hand, is a little more scholarly since he has a background as an artist. Plus, he’d be a hit with the female You Tube audience.

12. Sleepover time! Unfortunately you can only invite one person, who would you invite?

Options: Alex De Large (A Clockwork Orange) or Scout Finch (To Kill a Mockingbird)

Choice: So you’re asking me to sleep with either a serial rapist or a young child. No matter what I choose, somebody’s going to jail whether it’s me or Alex. I’m calling this one a draw so that I can spare myself the embarrassment.

13. Bam, you’re pregnant. Who’s the father/mother?

Options: Lisa Hayes (Robotech) or Rorschach (Watchmen)

Choice: If you give a child to Rorschach, you might as well schedule an abortion right now. He might not like that very much since he’s a rightwing nut job and a violent lunatic, but he’ll have to get over it. Lisa Hayes, on the other hand, is gentle enough to be a fitting mother. I think she might have actually had children with Rick Hunter in the Robotech canon, but I’m not sure.

14. You’ve just written a super important text. Who would ‘see’ it, but not reply?

Options: Yum Yum (Lilian Jackson Braun’s Cat Who book) or Sneaky Pie Brown (Rita Mae Brown’s books)

Choice: Both characters are cats, so it all boils down to who the bigger diva is and even then it’s a tough decision. This one’s another draw since they’d be too distracted by laser pens.

15. You’ve just woken up and it’s time for breakfast. Your mum’s been replaced by who?!

Options: Koko (Lilian Jackson Braun’s Cat Who books) or Sean King (David Baldacci’s King & Maxwell series)

Choice: Let’s see here? Who would make a better breakfast for me: a fucking cat or a human being with actual cooking skills? If I chose Koko, I’d probably have a dead bird or mouse served on a plate for me. With Sean King, I’d get eggs and bacon no problem. Let’s see…this is a tough one…

And just like that it’s over. I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!

***DOMESTIC DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

(RE: Rachel Oates video)

JAMES: I’m telling Mom you’re watching a piss fetish video.

GARRISON: That’s not what it is! She’s debunking urine therapy!

JAMES: Then how come you closed it after I came in here?

GARRISON: Because I can’t watch it as long as you’re using my computer.

JAMES: You can still leave it open. What, are you watching porn?

GARRISON: That’s not what it is!

JAMES: Uh-huh. Sure! After I’m done printing my homework, you can keep watching your piss fetish video.

GARRISON: Goddamn it, James!

Wade Fish

NAME: Wade Fish
AGE: 31
OCCUPATION: Prisoner
CANON: Pretty Colors


When certain people grow up with a tough life in a crime-infested neighborhood, they look for positive ways to leave it all behind. Some people turn to music, some turn to sports, some even go so far as to join the military. And then you have those who are so consumed with their demons that their only escape comes from the worst kind of drugs available, either from the streets or at the local Walgreen’s. Guess which kind of escapist Wade Fish turned out to be. I’ll give you a clue: it involves hypodermic needles, a snorting straw, and pill bottles.

When most people look at Wade, they only see his dirty appearance. They don’t see the past he tried to leave behind. He was bullied in school by teachers and students alike. He was abused by his step-father. Crime was everywhere in his ghetto neighborhood. At the age of 31, he still lived with his abusive step-father and frightened mother. To summarize everything I’ve just said, Wade was not only dealt a crappy hand, but he willingly gave up his chips in exchange for a life in the gutter.

If there was a drug within Wade’s reach, he did it and became a zombie afterwards. He swallowed pills despite not knowing what they were. He snorted cocaine despite never knowing where it came from. He shot heroin into his veins and formed infections around both arms. And when the high took over, he was unstoppable. Wade would lash out at anybody who passed him. It didn’t matter if you were a gangster, a school student, or even a cop on foot: if Wade had a knife, you were fucking dead. Unfortunately for him, he found the one cop who was willing to shoot him in the leg in order to subdue him

Though in today’s warrior cop world, Wade would have been dead a long time ago. But since I need a story worth writing, his story won’t end at the hands of a brutal police officer. While in prison, Wade is offered a chance at freedom on the condition that he undergoes “behavioral modification”. If this sounds at all like a cheap knockoff of either A Clockwork Orange or the fourth story in Tales From the Hood, it’s because Pretty Colors was. And just like Crazy K from the latter of the two movies I’ve mentioned, Wade didn’t give a fuck about anybody’s feelings; he just wanted an easy way back on the streets.

The best way to relieve someone of traumatic stress is to take away their demons or at least neutralize them. In a part of prison called The Diamond Room (which is a colorful version of Crazy K’s sensory deprivation chamber), Wade Fish can do just that by confronting the people from his past who fucked him over. One by one, the “demons” come to life. First it’s his mother. Then it’s his teacher. Then its his stepfather. And now it’s a multi-headed hydra with all three of their heads, plus the heads of the warden and the scientist who created The Diamond Room in the first place. Wade goes into an “I don’t give a fuck!” rage at each of his demons and ends up dying in the colorful room due to a stroke brought on by a seizure.

After Wade dies, the REAL warden and scientist enter the room and say that The Diamond Room, “Just needs some fine tuning.” Really? That was the problem with this whole setup: it wasn’t tweaked enough? Never mind that a human being’s life was on the line. And by the way, just like with any prisoner, Wade’s legacy was buried deep within the beaurocracy of the prison and his body was thrown away like common garbage. Wisdom, justice, and love, my ass.

Even though Wade’s disturbing past is enough of a reason for him to gain sympathy, he will be cast as a villain for the next time I use him. He technically could be a “sympathetic villain”. Maybe he can be like the narrator in “A Million Little Pieces” and just be a lovable asshole. Either that or he can be a low level henchman who’s doing it all for the smack. So many doors can be opened for Wade Fish. All that’s left is for him to walk through one of those doors and become a literary icon. Or I could just bury him again, that always works out so well.

　

***MOVIE QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“You get me slapped with a fine, you argue with the customers and I have to patch everything up, you get us thrown out of a funeral home for violating a corpse, and to top it all off, you ruin my relationship! I mean, what is your encore?! Do you anally rape my mother while pouring sugar in my gas tank?! You know what the real tragedy behind all of this is?! I’m not even supposed to be here today!”

-Dante Hicks from “Clerks”-

Tales From the Hood: Hardcore Convert

MOVIE TITLE: Tales From the Hood
SUB-STORY: Hardcore Convert
DIRECTOR: Rusty Cundieff
YEAR: 1995
GENRE: Gangster Horror
RATING: R for violence, vulgar language, and male nudity
GRADE: Pass


In the final story from the Tales From the Hood anthology, Jerome Johns aka Crazy K is a psychopathic gangster who goes on a rampage and eventually gets captured by the police. After serving four years of his life sentence, Crazy K meets Dr. Cushing, a scientist who gives him the chance of being released back on the streets on the condition that he undergoes “behavioral modification”.

Crazy K thinks this is an easy way out of jail, but the physical and psychological torture he is subjected to suggests otherwise. He’s forced to have a conversation with a racist serial killer, be strapped to a spinning table while watching violent footage, and be lowered into a sensory deprivation chamber to confront the ghosts of those he murdered. Is Crazy K capable of being a respectable human being or is he just a lost cause who “Doesn’t give a fuck”?

The idea of brainwashing a violent person into becoming a pacifist has been explored before, particularly in the Anthony Burgess novel which later became a movie “A Clockwork Orange”. The conditioning techniques used in both “A Clockwork Orange” and “Hardcore Convert” are similar in the sense that the subject will become violently ill after watching or attempting brutality. The difference between the two is that the conditioning in “A Clockwork Orange” actually does its job in making the main character into a “model citizen” while Crazy K continues to defy authority.

Experimental treatments are judged on a trial and error basis, so Crazy K’s rebellious ways are believable. In fact, his multiple F-bombs and aggressive tone make him a quotable character. Just don’t quote him in a public place where children are present. Also, when somebody asks you if you’re interested in science, don’t say, “I saw a few chemicals in my day.” That doesn’t sound promising. It’s funny as hell, but not promising.

Here’s the million dollar question that I’ve always had when watching this part of Tales From the Hood. During the spinning table scene, were the sexual overtones intentional or were they accidental? I’ve wrestled with this question plenty of times in my analysis of this movie. Crazy K is wearing nothing but a black g-string (which leaves very little to the imagination), he’s being tied to a table, he has a metal ball gag in his mouth and feeding tubes in his nostrils, he has electric pasties on his nipples, he has a spring-loaded clamp on his groin, and the women who are doing all of this to him are smoking hot. Even in her 50’s, Rosalind Cash (Dr. Cushing) was a gorgeous woman, so that furthers my last point.

To answer the question of whether the sexual overtones were intentional, I’m still on the fence on that one. Yes, the spinning table scene has all of those kinky elements going on, but it also has some rather disturbing ones. The slide show that Crazy K is being shown basically compares KKK lynchings to gangs shootings. These are all brutal photos, but the bold point is being made that black gangsters are no different from white supremacists in the sense that they both randomly kill other black people. And let’s not forget, these points are being made while Crazy K is being spun around on a torture table and becoming nauseated afterwards. If there was an attempt at fan service, it fell apart the minute the table started spinning.

You can look at this final Tales From the Hood story from any angle you want. You can jokingly call it “Fifty Shades of K” or “Clockwork Orgasm” all you want, but let’s not forget that there’s a serious tale of gang violence being told in this story. The fact that Crazy K can remain defiant after everything is done says something about our society: some people just can’t be cured. You can help them all you want, but in the end, it’s up to that individual to make a conscientious decision to change his or her life. Crazy K wanted an easy way to freedom and he got schooled instead. The easiest path to your goals isn’t always the best one. Cheaters never win and winners never cheat. That’s why Crazy K is in a coffin at Simms’ Funeral Home and not at home rebuilding his life. A passing grade for a tale of tragedy.

Book Burnings

There are some zealous people out there who love a good book burning ceremony. Terry Jones, that idiot priest in Florida, was going to burn several copies of the Quran on the anniversary of 9/11. I don’t know if he actually got around to it, but there’s something Mr. Jones needs to be aware of for the next time he plans a book burning ritual. In order to obtain copies of a book, you have to, surprise, surprise, buy them. Every time you buy a book from somewhere, whether it’s $20 at Barnes and Noble or one cent plus shipping and handling on Amazon.com, you’re giving your patronage and your money to the original author along with their publishing company. I hate to burst your bubble, Mr. Jones, but in the end, it doesn’t matter why you buy multiple copies of a book, because a sale is a sale regardless of the reason. You can say whatever you want about the Twilight series, but if you’re buying a hundred copies just so you can rip them up or use them as toilet paper, you’re still giving Stephanie Meyer a shit load of money. And if you think you’re being slick by going on an author’s page and giving him a negative review, sorry, but that’s another way of attracting attention to that author. More attention (good or bad) means more sales, more sales means more money for the author, and more money for the author means that he won’t have to go on welfare and REALLY make you shit your pants. Going back to the original example of that loser Terry Jones, he may have pissed off a bunch of extremists by attempting a Quran burning, but thanks to his ass-load of cash, some publishers are going to be eating a chicken dinner for a long, long time. Winner, winner, chicken dinner! Wakey, wakey, eggs and bacey! Rise and shine, it’s breakfast time! And of course, this blog wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t use myself as an example to further my point. This past Friday, I visited Lulu.com and put together yet another self-published book under the name Garrison Kelly called Foe vs. Blade. It’s another anthology just like Red Blood, White Knuckles, Blue Heart, but Foe vs. Blade is much darker and much more offensive. I may be hypersensitive to criticism, but business will go on as usual whether you’re with me or against me. But in hindsight, I’ve only sold one copy of either of these two books in the past few weeks and that was to my best friend Kenny on Facebook. Either way, that one sale is going to multiply into many sales and I will become well-fed and well-paid whether you want to set fire to my books or recommend them to friends. You’ve got a lighter? Flame on!

　

***PARODY DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

DR. CUSHING: Our tests show that you have a weak stomach. Have you ever been strapped to a torture table and spun around several hundred times until you puked your guts out?

CRAZY K: Yeah, I saw a few rollercoasters in my day.

-Tales From the Hood-

　

***POST-SCRIPT***

Anybody who says Tales From the Hood’s fourth story is like A Clockwork Orange is secretly looking for a way to make everybody look away from his massive hard-on. Did Alex De Large walk around in his underwear? Did Alex De Large have stimulators on his nipples? Did Alex De Large have a spring-loaded clamp on the base of his dick? And finally, did Alex De Large have a ball gag in his mouth? The answer to all of these questions is not just no, but a definitive hell no. If you’re going to masturbate to that torture scene in Tales From the Hood, at least be honest about it.

Magnum Opuses

A magnum opus is not a candy bar or an ice cream treat. It’s a singular work that defines an author’s entire career. Musicians, directors, and other artists can have magnum opuses as well. For Anthony Burgess, his magnum opus was A Clockwork Orange, much to his chagrin. The only reason why he wrote it (in such a short time span, no less) was to pay a bill. That’s it. That’s all A Clockwork Orange was supposed to be. My first thought upon hearing this was, “If he can write this good of a story when he’s rushing it, imagine what he’s like when he slows down and plans everything.” Mr. Burgess should be proud of himself. Actually, he can’t since he’s dead, but you get the picture. Then again, there are times when I can sympathize with this magnum opus phenomenon being a bad thing. I have a DeviantART account (in case you didn’t know) and from time to time I’ll post memes of my top ten favorite things or top 100 or god knows what else. When my memes get more views and favorites than my pieces of literature, which I genuinely worked hard on, that’s when I become disappointed with the internet community. It makes me upset that they can identify with a meme more often than a piece of art that actually means something. I don’t know if this is a mark of the smart phone generation or what, but it does piss me off from time to time. But then there are times when a magnum opus can work in the author’s favor like it did with Anthony Burgess (even though he didn’t know it just yet). You know the nu metal band Limp Bizkit? Their magnum opus is a tossup between the songs “Rollin’” and “Counterfeit”. What about Pink Floyd? Theirs is a tossup between the albums The Wall and Dark Side of the Moon. Imagine having to choose between a colorful prism and a hideous screaming face. What if you tried playing a word association game with the name JK Rowling? Harry Potter will always be the first thing to come to mind. The point I’m trying to make here is to be proud of your magnum opus regardless of how ashamed it made you feel previously. In hindsight, a bunch of people faving my memes could lead to those same people being interested in other things of mine as well. That’s normally how it works with drawings, photos, and such. Just try and stay positive about the things you’re famous for. For me personally, I’m glad that my characters Deus Shadowheart (charismatic barbarian) and Dr. Scott Cain (corrupt rapist) have a profound influence on how people see me. That’s why I recycled them from an old videogame idea called Final Fantasy Hardcore into a better-written story known as Hardcore Hate 1. If you’re famous for good things, embrace it.

　

***MY FIRST SALE***

After months of agonizing over success and failure, I finally sold my first copy of “Red Blood, White Knuckles, Blue Heart”. I’m confident that the one sale will spiral into a hundred. Or a thousand. Or a million. Whoever bought this book is going to spread the word for sure. For that, I’m thankful.

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“It don’t bother me if people think I’m funny, ‘cause I’m a big rock star and I make a lot of money!”

-Korn singing “Earache”-