Rebecca Watson vs. Christopher Hitchens: New Atheism, Same Conservative Bigotry

 

Lori Chavez-DeRemer: Rated R for Republican

 

A Chosen Destiny by Drew McIntyre

BOOK TITLE: A Chosen Destiny

AUTHOR: Drew McIntyre (ghostwritten by Sarah Edworthy)

YEAR: 2021

GENRE: Nonfiction

SUBGENRE: Wrestling Memoir

GRADE: B

If you’ve watched WWE from the late 2000’s to the 2020’s, you’ve seen the Scottish Psychopath Drew McIntyre on your screen, whether he was an arrogant heel, a brawling monster, or the WWE Champion during the pandemic era. If you want to hear his turbulent story about how he got to that pinnacle and all the obstacles between him and glory, you’ve cracked open the right book. I need to warn you, though, that this book reads like a lot of pro-wrestlers’ memoirs: a childhood dream turned reality with an overabundance of show-don’t-tell violations. Emotional moments that deserved time to breathe barely get a few sentences to describe how Drew was feeling in that moment, which is a shame considering some of the trauma he went through. “I was angry.” “I was sad.” “I wanted to wreck everything.” Not all of the writing is like this, but most of it is. That’s to be expected from celebrity memoirs. If that kind of milk-toast style bothers you or you’re not already part of the wrestling bubble, you may want to keep this book shelved. Otherwise, enjoy the ride!

If you can excuse the bland writing style, then you might be moved by some of these legitimately heartbreaking stories he tells. Winning the WWE Championship in an empty warehouse with no fans to cheer him on is the ultimate bittersweet moment in his career. It’s not nearly as soul-crushing as losing his physically disabled, yet highly optimistic mother to cancer in the middle of his WWE career. Or how about the time when he kept showing up to work plastered because alcohol was the only thing that brought him peace? What about the time when he was fired from WWE along with nine other wrestlers like he was an expendable foot soldier? These are all moments that would destroy any reader if they were explored in depth and with a more descriptive ghostwriter. They still tug at the heartstrings. They still hit me where it hurts. But like I said in the first paragraph, these legitimately painful moments needed time to breathe and develop. Just like Drew was robbed of his Wrestlemania crowd pop, we were robbed of a face full of tears. How’s that for irony?

I wrestled with myself (no pun intended) when trying to decide between a B or a C grade for this memoir. Ultimately, I settled on a B, because Drew McIntyre has an interesting enough life to justify penning a memoir. The way he talks about his obsession with wrestling as a kid and how he brought that fandom into his everyday life? That’s the stuff dreams are made of. Completely transforming his diet and lifestyle after getting fired by WWE? That and touring relentlessly on the indie circuit was exactly what he needed to get back into the company. Getting cheered on by his family in Scotland and his wife in America? That’s what kept him going every night. And then he eventually won the WWE Championship, but that, according to him, was only the beginning of much bigger plans. His newfound work ethic was an admirable thing to see in his process of maturity. But again, it would have meant more with better writing.

A Chosen Destiny is an interesting read, but only if you already follow wrestling. Maybe that was the whole point behind the marketing techniques. Maybe it doesn’t have to be massively appealing to be successful. Should I be more forgiving of books that have a super-niche audience? I’d like to think that’s a good idea. Maybe that’s why I’m being generous with my B grade instead of dropping it to a C. It is a good book for what it is, but I would only recommend it to other wrestling fans. In that respect, the memoir did its job. Drew McIntyre, on the other hand, will hopefully never have to do a long string of jobs ever again. Wrestling fans know what that means.

Pointless Thoughts

Stuck in the mud with these pointless thoughts

Dreaming about murder and never getting caught

Descending into madness with every bully’s word

Every kiss begins with K, how fucking absurd

Rumination is the word of this never-ending day

Getting revenge on the voices, but it’s me who pays

I could argue until my jaw is clamped down tight

Sore facial muscles with every phantom bite

A headache that won’t go away with some Advil

A demonic revelation even after I take sad pills

Kiss the girls and only make yourself cry

Take the punches and make some wishes to die

Take the insults without asking reasons why

Take the abuse until your insides are fried

Pointless thoughts, what the fuck are you doing?

Eating me alive, what the fuck are you chewing?

One mind against a meat suit full of organs

Betrayal from within, should I drink some Captain Morgan?

Is a bottle full of poison the answer to it all?

The answer is never, so I continue to brawl

If it takes forever to keep my brain in line

Then I’m putting on the gloves, your ass is mine!

The Whole World Is Watching

The whole world is watching whenever you’re botching

A million TV’s tune in

Whenever you shower, their dicks become towers

Tissues flushed into the sewage

Whenever you slide and you land on your hide

They laugh just like a demon

Whenever you stutter and melt into butter

The power dynamic is uneven

When you ask her out and you’re crippled by doubt

The comedy starts to punch down

When your ass gets fired for being too tired

You become their favorite punk clown

When you leave the bar and then you crash your car

The comedy turns into tragedy

When you rot in jail from your epic fail

It’s time to end the pageantry

When you take your last breath and teeter on death

The shock pads wake you up

When they set you free for the world to see

They grab their popcorn and soda cup

When you leave them hanging, their big heads are banging

Against a fucking brick wall

When you’re born for laughs and government graphs

You don’t have permission to bawl

When you’re born this way, at the end of the day

It was God who made the mistake

When death’s a solution in this institution

It’s your only shot at a coffee break

The whole world is watching whenever you’re dodging

The spotlight in the sky

The whole world hates you, they always debate you

Brain tells you to say goodbye

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!”

Andre the Giant

 MOVIE TITLE: Andre the Giant
PRODUCER: HBO
YEAR: 2018
GENRE: Wrestling Documentary
RATING: TV-14 for violence and language
GRADE: Extra Credit

Seven feet and four inches tall, well over four hundred pounds, undefeated for fifteen years in professional wrestling, first ever WWE Hall of Famer, and above all else, a literal larger than life character. When the name Andre the Giant is mentioned, these are the descriptors that come with it and it was a solidly earned reputation. Wrestling fans wanted to see a godlike attraction, so they dished out large sums of money to see him destroy his opponents like they were nothing. The wrestling business wouldn’t have boomed in popularity if not for Andre’s mystique and extraordinary presence. Watching this HBO documentary on him made me believe in the legend all over again. It made me nostalgic for the “good old days”, at the risk of sounding like an old codger. I gave up watching pro-wrestling in 2018 due to how bad the WWE product had become. Seeing Andre in action being a dominant beast and making fans go absolutely bananas rekindled a tiny spark within me. It made me believe in the “never say never” idiom. Andre died in 1993, but his memory lives forever. This documentary was the perfect way to keep him immortal in the eyes of wrestling fans both old and new. It’s certainly more respectful than a yearly WWE battle royal where the winner achieves minimal success shortly thereafter.

One thing you can’t say about Andre the Giant was that he was a Gary-Stu, or a character so flawless that they become unrelatable. On the contrary, he was incredibly flawed. People think that being a gigantic tough guy is the ultimate ticket to being taken seriously and not being messed with. Fans messed with him a lot. They pointed and laughed at him. They said horrible things about his appearance, like a high school bully would do relentlessly in order to get his target to commit suicide. You would think that macho pro-wrestlers didn’t have sensitive sides, but Andre cried every time he was picked on by snickering fans. On top of all that, being that big comes with physical hardships as well, whether it was his failing organs, crooked spine, bad hips, or arthritic knees. Peers would often joke about Andre’s drinking habits and how he could go through a hundred cans of beer in a single sitting. He drank because he was depressed and couldn’t cope with the physical and emotional toll constant travel took on him. He couldn’t even sit in a normal sized car seat or rest in a normal sized bed. He also couldn’t be there for his daughter Robin when she needed him the most. Seeing this very human side to a deified wrestler reminds us over and over again not to judge a book by its cover and not to wish we could swap lives with other people. Everyone has their own set of hardships and everyone deals with them in their own way. It certainly makes his death that much more difficult to hear about from the perspectives of his colleagues, who also cried, by the way. The gentle giant deserved better than a slow and painful death. It makes me wonder if a Hall of Fame induction and a namesake battle royal are really enough to do him justice.

You know what does do him justice? His main event match at Wrestlemania III against Hulk Hogan for the WWF Championship. This wasn’t just two big guys having a hoss fight. There was a story behind this. This was Andre being taken seriously as a villainous character when he had spent most of his career being a gentle soul. This was Andre posing a credible threat to WWF’s golden goose. This was Andre severing a brotherly bond he had with Hulk Hogan just for a shot at a money-making championship. Hulk Hogan fought through his own tears and gave a resounding “Yes!” in the most emotional delivery possible when the challenge was laid down. The match itself wasn’t a technical masterpiece, but the documentary did a tremendous job in showing the psychology behind it, both backstage and in the ring. Could Hulk Hogan slay the giant and become a megastar that could carry the company through its darkest times? When he finally did with a body slam and leg drop, the audience cheered their heads off. I wanted to cheer my head off too. I wanted to be there in the building to see it happen, but I didn’t live in Detroit at the time. The energy, the emotional investment, the storytelling, they created a perfect storm when Andre’s defeat burst Hulk Hogan into the stratosphere. Again, this was oftentimes a slow and plodding match due to Andre’s mobility issues, but the magic was still there. The magic will always be there thanks to HBO keeping the memory alive.

I don’t give five-star ratings out so lightly, but for this documentary, I’ll gladly fork it over. One way to earn the maximum rating from me is to evoke emotions that I don’t ordinarily feel from movies and TV shows that I just like. HBO’s documentary did just that. It made me fall in love with wrestling again (even if I refuse to watch the current WWE product). It hurt to see Andre in so much agony, be it emotional or physical. It lifted me up whenever his peers would talk about his sense of humor and his kind demeanor outside of the ring. Was he a god on a worldwide level or was he a human being who longed for an normal life from time to time? The correct answer is yes. Rest in peace, Andre the Giant. It’s been many moons since your passing and we still miss you to this day. That’s the mark of a true legend: when you transcend your own death.

"In the Presence of Knowing" by Valarie Savage Kinney

BOOK TITLE: In the Presence of Knowing

AUTHOR: Valarie Savage Kinney

YEAR: 2017

GENRE: Fiction

SUBGENRE: Urban Fantasy

GRADE: Extra Credit

When her alcoholic ex-boyfriend Vince beats her while she’s pregnant, Keisha runs away from home and into the safety of her best friend Layla. Layla helps her get a job at the Windy Springs renaissance faire, a seasonal home for trolls, faeries, gnomes, witches, and other magical creatures that oftentimes blur the lines between fantasy and reality. During one of her treks into the forest, Keisha meets a troll named Gibble (real name Rogan O’Connor) and the two of them form a protective and healthy friendship with each other, something Keisha needed in her life ever since splitting from Vince. Speak of the devil, he’s still out there somewhere and could show up any minute to finish the beating he started at the beginning of the story.

One of the main reasons why I decided to give this book a full five stars was because of how much I loved the relationship between Keisha and Rogan. Their friendship development moves along too fast for some people’s comfort, but none of it feels forced or hokey. These two are perfect for each other. They use their demons to become better people instead of bitter and angry like Vince. Whenever they do get into an argument or two, it makes them stronger and better able to face adversity. They share secrets with each other not out of obligation, but because it’s what they genuinely want. If two people are this good for each other, who cares how fast everything moves? If anything, the readers will want them to get together sooner. While Keisha doesn’t have the martial arts know-how that Rogan does, I still consider these two to be equals in other areas of their relationship. Those are the best kinds of couples, the ones whose love you can believe in.

While Keisha can fend off her demons long enough to be in a healthy relationship with Rogan, she still has those demons in the first place and it shows in her thought processes. Her self-punishment is incredibly realistic of someone who’s been in a previously abusive relationship. Her anxiety and possible PTSD are written in a way that makes me believe the author had some kind of experience with these mental illnesses. Her constant worry over her child is nerve-wracking to read about at times, but it goes to show how much of a loving mother she’ll eventually become when the baby is born. Keisha is a top example of a flawed character whose weaknesses don’t ruin the character development or make them unlikable. Other authors could learn something from this. I know I did.

And then we have the renaissance faire, which aside from the evil witch Cordelia sounds like a fun place to spend a day or even work at. Whether it’s the comedic and lighthearted aura of the trolls and gnomes, the eccentricity of the pirates, the class and elegance of the faeries, or anything else that has to do with the fantasy genre, I’m giving my due props to the author for her undying creativity and passion for putting together this world. People come to medieval conventions to get away from the harsh realities of real life. They can be anything they want and be welcomed with open arms. The sense of community among the workers along with their hatred for mediocre conformity makes this tale of escaping abuse that much easier to digest. These people aren’t just coworkers or friends to Keisha. They’re family. They protect each other physically and creatively. That’s a healthy family dynamic everyone deserves to have.

This was a short and easy piece of reading made easier by Valarie Savage Kinney’s undying creativity and passion for what she writes about. She preaches anti-conformity online quite often and practices it to the fullest extent. We all deserve a chance to expand our imaginations beyond the ordinary and Valarie makes us feel safe enough to do that through her writing and online presence. An extra credit grade goes to this wonderful book, the first in a series and boy, what a beginning it was! She’ll no doubt carry this momentum into the rest of the Windy Springs novels.

Smells Like a Brewery

“The director will be here really soon, guys, really soon!” said Riley Steel with limited conviction as she stared at her watch. Putting on a red cocktail dress and high heeled sandals for nothing wasn’t her idea of a productive day. She tapped her foot while other crew members and actors milled around waiting for their director to come. The stage was all set. Everyone was ready to go. “Where the hell is he?” And then the repugnant odor of alcohol assaulted her nostrils like a boxing champion’s knockout uppercut. “Oh no,” said Riley while shaking her head in shame.

Fashionably late, Director Devon Rollins came staggering into the studio with a beer bottle in one hand and a whole lot of nothing in the other. This was what his cinematic masterpiece Marble Halls meant to him. This was what he signed a contract for: so that he could show up whenever he wanted to in ridiculously baggy clothes, disheveled brown hair, stubble on his face, and a beer stench that could be whiffed from space.

Devon stood in front of his director’s chair and hummed while battering his lips up and down with his index finger. In the most offensively ableist voice imaginable, he said, “Why’s…everybody…always picking…on…me?” He took a seat in his chair and fell on the back of his neck, much to the shock and horror of everyone on set.

“Good God almighty,” said Riley with shock in her eyes as she watched Devon struggle to get up and reposition his chair.

He got an A for effort, but then stumbled over the chair again and just laid on the floor defeated and dizzy. Throughout all of his drunken posturing, he still managed to keep his beer bottle in his hand. Another A for effort for an acting job that was surely an acquired taste, just like the alcohol that he was smashed on.

Riley’s lips curled with anger as she kicked off her uncomfortable heels and marched over to her drunken director. She kneeled down and grabbed him by his Star Wars T-shirt before shaking and slapping the shit out of him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! You smell like a goddamn brewery! We’ve been waiting for you since ten-thirty this morning!”

Burping and slurring his words, Devon said, “I can’t do this anymore, Linda” before dunking his head backwards and falling asleep.

Riley growled before grabbing her director’s greasy hair and slamming his head against the floor once just to wake him up. After Devon yelled to indicate he was awake, his actress tore into him some more. “It’s Riley, not Linda, you idiot! Pull yourself together, for god’s sake!”

“Sure thing, Tina!” said Devon with an obnoxious burp and a thumbs up.

Riley shook her head and watched as actors and crew members filed out of the studio, not wanting any more of Devon’s shit. “Are you happy now?” she asked rhetorically. “Look at them! They’re walking out on you and I should probably do the same thing. The only thing keeping me from doing so is a little something called a contract. You know, that thing you sign which legally binds you to work on Marble Halls. This is your project, Devon! You have to do it professionally! Otherwise, we’re screwed!”

Devon took a few moments to catch his breath, which still reeked worse than a frat boy’s asshole after doing a tampon chug. “Divas…you’re all divas…”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nobody will do what I say, Tiffany. I give them one direction and they tell me no like they’ve got a choice. I’m the director. I call the shots! If I have to be a North Carolina dictator, then so be it!” Devon ended his rant with another burp, this time with liquid bubbling up in his throat.

Riley made a disgusted face. “So that’s why you started drinking? Because nobody will do what they’re told? In case you hadn’t noticed, Marble Halls is a team effort. It’s not just a bunch of people doing what they’re told. We have input. We have feelings. We have reservations. For example…do you remember that day I refused to do a nude scene for you?”

“Yeah…I remember…you’re a diva too, Rebecca. It’s part of the script. If the script says take your clothes off, then you take your clothes off.”

Riley folded her arms. “Yeah, the script does say that. The script, by the way, that you wrote from beginning to end, by yourself, with no criticism from others. If anybody has the power to negotiate with his own actors, it’s you. Besides, why does that script even need a nude scene anyways? How does it advance the story? Are you sure you didn’t just put it in there because you don’t know how internet porn works?”

“…Ouch, Ronda. Very, very ouch…”

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it?”

“No, I actually mean ouch. Get your knee off my gut!”

Riley stood up and backed away just in time to watch Devon spit up a fountain of barf, covering his own face and chest in biological sludge. He breathed heavily after that while his lead actress could only look on in pity. She shook her head. “Go home, Devon. You’re drunk. Nobody wants to be around you right now. Just go home and sleep it off. We’ll pick up again tomorrow and hopefully you’ll be sober by then.”

“But…what about that contract thingamabob? Isn’t the executioner producer going to be pissed?” Another burp erupted from Devon’s mouth as did a wad of bile.

“To be honest, I’ll take my chances with the EXECUTIVE producer. I’m sure he’ll give me a way out of my contract after what you did today. Besides, if anybody is getting blamed for all of this, it’s you, Mr. North Carolina dictator!” She picked up her heels and tried to leave the studio.

“Wait!” mumbled Devon as he clutched his actress’s ankle. “Don’t go! I…I…”

“You what? You want me to convince the cast and crew to come back? You want me to convince the executive producer not to blacklist or sue your ass? Let go of my damn ankle, Harvey Weinstein!”

“No, that’s not what I meant!” Devon coughed and got some acidic spittle on Riley’s bare foot. “I mean…I need someone to drive me home.”

“I’ll call you a taxi.”

“No…I want you to be the one who drives me.”

Riley scoffed. “Yeah, like I’m going to let you stink up my nice Volvo with your beer and vomit breath. You can sleep on the floor for all I care.”

“Wait! Wait, please…I’m not looking for a way home…I want you to take me to Paradise Rehab.”

Riley’s expression softened as she kneeled down beside her director. “You want to check into rehab?”

“I do…I really do…listen to me just for a moment. I know I’m blitzed right now, but I still have something to say.” Devon took a while to catch his rotten breath. “This drinking problem has been going on for a long time now. This is really the first time I came to the set drunk. All the pressure from upper management…all the arguing with the crew members…the deadlines that are impossible to meet…the beer was the only way I could manage my depression.”

“You’ve been depressed this whole time and you didn’t tell any of us?”

“What do you guys care? I’m just another pig who demands nude scenes, which are totally part of the plot, by the way. I don’t give these orders because I want a bunch of brainwashed slaves. I give them because…I want Marble Halls to be the best movie it can possibly be. And when we draw the big money and win the Oscars…I want to share them all with you and the crew. Yes, I know I’m drunk right now…but I mean every word that I say.” There was a teary twinkle in his eye to validate his true feelings.

Riley’s face was etched with pity once again. She wanted to believe these words despite the alcoholic influence. She wanted to believe Devon Rollins had a good side to him. She wanted to believe that his nude scenes were completely necessary. Although she was fighting not to believe those things, she knew that nothing would be accomplished by leaving him on the floor to be sued and fired. Besides, if what he said about depression was true, then he was just as human as the rebellious cast members.

“Come on, Devon. I’m taking you to rehab.” She wrapped his arm around the back of her neck and struggled to lift him to his feet.

“Thank you, Riley. Thank you so much. I won’t let you down….you know, any more than I already have.”

“No problem, Devon. Just do me a favor: don’t barf all over my expensive leather seats.”

A Dog's Journey

MOVIE TITLE: A Dog’s Journey

DIRECTOR: Gail Mancuso

YEAR: 2019

GENRE: Animal Drama

RATING: PG for mild violence

GRADE: Extra Credit

An Australian Shepherd named Bailey enjoys life on a farm with his puppy parents Ethan and Hannah. He also loves their granddaughter CJ and has sworn to protect her no matter how many lives it takes him to do so. An alcoholic mother, a slew of bad boyfriends, and a dwindling music career all serve as obstacles for CJ growing up. The one thing she can count on is always having a puppy-duppy by her side despite the negative influences around her. Can this series of dogs help CJ find her way into a comfortable and loving life?

There wasn’t a single dry eye in the move theater when I saw this. Even though I take medication that keeps me emotionally numb, I also couldn’t help but shed a tear or two. Every death, every heartbreak, every cancer diagnosis, and every tragedy in this movie meant something. I wouldn’t have teared up for characters I didn’t care about, but CJ and her many dogs are incredibly deserving of not only the audience’s attention, but love as well. CJ may be the most lovable human character of them all, but even she’s not above making foolish mistakes from time to time. Her imperfections make her a suitable vehicle for our emotions. When she cries, you cry. When she’s happy, you’re happy. When she conquers the world, you too feel inspired to do so. That’s a lot of tears for a lot of moviegoers.

As many lovable characters as there are in this film, they couldn’t bring you those much-needed tears without their foils. Gloria, CJ’s neglectful and emotionally abusive mother, is very much deserving of your scorn. But even she can be redeemable, which is more than the audience will ever say about CJ’s criminal boyfriend Shane or her arrogant suit-wearing boyfriend afterwards named Barry. It’s toxic people like these that remind the audience over and over again never to make the foolish choices that CJ had the misfortune of making. These villains wouldn’t make good puppy parents. They wouldn’t even make good casual acquaintances. The sooner CJ is rid of them, the better off she’ll be. It’s heartbreaking to watch these people invade her life, but it’s necessary to keep the conflict strong and the audience’s eyeballs wet.

And of course, Bailey wouldn’t be able to protect CJ as much as he has if not for the power of reincarnation. This is a powerful theme in the movie, especially when the dead dogs run through a wheat field to cross the Rainbow Bridge. There are critics of reincarnation out there and they very well could be right. But there’s no denying the comfort it brings to owners of deceased pets. It doesn’t even have to be a religious deal. It could just be comfort for comfort’s sake. I had a spunky all-white cat named Simon who crossed the Rainbow Bridge in 2011. Two years later I adopted an equally-spunky cat named Tori, whom I jokingly call Simon 2.0 because of how similar they are. It could be a coincidence, but even my atheist heart doesn’t have it in me to ruin the magic for pet owners, let alone the moviegoers who shed many tears in the theater that evening.

It’s rare when a movie hits me where it hurts the most. I usually watch a movie with the idea that I’ll like it, but not much beyond that. I didn’t just like this movie. I loved it. It made me believe in the power of animal companionship all over again (not that I ever questioned it). Our fur babies depend on us to provide love and care. I’ll keep doing so for as long as I live. I consider it to be my life’s purpose, above my writing career even. That’s what A Dog’s Journey means to me and that’s why I’m giving it an extra credit grade. Congratulations, puppy-duppies: you’ve earned every broken heart.

"Happy!" by Grant Morrison

BOOK TITLE: Happy!

AUTHOR: Grant Morrison

YEAR: 2017

GENRE: Graphic Novel

SUBGENRE: Crime Fiction

GRADE: Pass

Disgraced detective turned contract killer Nick Sax completes an assassination of mob boss Mr. Blue’s sons. During the final moments of the confrontation, one of the sons tells Nick the password to a bank account full of laundered mafia money. Just as Mr. Blue’s henchmen are about to extract the password from him via torture, an imaginary blue unicorn haunts Nick’s psyche and agrees to help him out dangerous situations on the condition that he rescues small children from a porn studio. Will Nick Sax become the hero he was meant to be or will he selfishly reject Happy the horse every step of the way?

This graphic novel is incontrovertible proof that not all protagonists have to be saints in order for the audience to cheer for them. Nick Sax is a vulgar, selfish, negative alcoholic who would rather waste his life away than use it for good causes. Seeing as how this is a redemption story, Happy the Horse has a long way to go in order to convince Nick to see the light. The two of them get into schizophrenic arguments that make outsiders feel uncomfortable and downright frightened to death. When the big payoff finally happens, it feels right. Some would criticize Nick’s newfound reasons as being selfish yet again, but that just goes to show how stonehearted a broken man like him can be. To me, that’s gritty and realistic, which is what all detective novels should be like, imaginary horse aside.

Speaking of Happy, I enjoyed his characterization as well. He’s a goofy, lovable, lighthearted ray of sunshine in a world covered in darkness and beer. Sometimes the reader needs a break from all of the R-rated horror and Happy will provide that relief through his personality alone. In truth, Happy is the last line of defense for childhood innocence since he was one of the kidnapped children’s imaginary friend at one point. Once he’s gone, the whole world turns to poison. Imagination is the most powerful tool we have and it took a lot of it to incorporate Happy’s character in a believable way. Good job in that department, Mr. Morrison!

I don’t have many complaints, but I do have one about Nick Sax’s back story as to why he acts as coldly as he does. While it is a tragic story about his family that would make any reader tear up, it seems forced and cliché, like it somehow excuses Nick’s behavior by virtue of its mere existence in the storyline. I’ve seen this trope used many times before and it only numbs me to the real tragedy of the much larger story. But as I said, this is a minor complaint since it didn’t actually derail the story in any way. It’s just a flaw that needed to be pointed out, that’s all.

All in all, this was a fun little graphic novel and I can easily see why Syfy would want to make a TV show out of it. Sometimes it’s fun to root for the antihero, especially when a magical flying horse evens him out. That’s the trick with the antihero: he can’t be worse than the villains he’s fighting. Otherwise, there’s nothing to believe in. Nick Sax’s redemption story is believable to me and that’s why I’m giving this graphic novel a passing grade despite his clichéd character history.

"Andre the Giant: Closer to Heaven" by Brandon Easton

BOOK TITLE: Andre the Giant: Closer to Heaven

AUTHOR: Brandon Easton

YEAR: 2015

GENRE: Graphic Novel

SUBGENRE: Wrestling Biography

GRADE: Pass

Andre the Giant’s road to wrestling stardom was one filled with pain, unhappiness, excessive drinking, and tough choices. Starting out as a farm boy in France, he fell in love with professional wrestling in his teen years when he’d see these small shows performed in front of live crowds. Needing an escape from feeling like a freak, he used his massive size to his advantage and started his long hard road to becoming one of the biggest legends in the wrestling industry. He traveled all over the world wrestling matches that stunned spectators until he made it to the multi-billion dollar World Wrestling Federation. His larger-than-life star power would become immortalized with his matches against Hulk Hogan, The Ultimate Warrior, and many other future Hall of Famers. He died in 1993 due to complications with his gigantism, but he will never be forgotten.

Graphic novels and comic books alike get bad reputations for being ordinary picture books for kids (that was a dig at you, Bill Maher). This graphic novel in particular is much more than that. It’s a well-written biography with dialogue and narration any reader can get behind. I especially liked the part where the old lady at the fairgrounds told Andre that he’s “closer to heaven” because God doesn’t have to reach down that far to touch him. That simple act of kindness helped Andre feel like more than just a sideshow freak. He was a human being with real emotions and real struggles, just like any other regardless of size. The dialogue and narration help convey that message perfectly. In other words, he’s a three-dimensional character within the confines of a greater story.

Just like all three-dimensional characters, Andre had flaws underneath all of his stardom. He was so young and egotistical that he thought he was invincible, so he turned to drinking and telling inappropriate jokes to keep up this appearance. Partying was a huge part of the wrestling industry and some people succumb to their vices easier than others. In Andre’s case, his alcoholism led him to complicate his gigantism, where his bones were already aching and he needed so many surgeries that he lost count. Despite his flaws, it’s impossible to hate Andre the Giant as a character. He is, after all, human. He still feels guilty during his times of sin, especially as it relates to his estranged daughter Robin, who penned an emotional letter to him while he was away. This is a reminder that nobody is invincible no matter how big and strong they are. That’s true storytelling at its best.

In addition to his struggles with his physical health, his emotional health took a toll on him as well. Despite being a mega star every country he wrestles in, he couldn’t find his permanent happiness. He took the little things for granted until it was almost too late to appreciate them once again. Being able to catch up with his friends back home in France was a huge emotional boost for him. Forging new friendships with his business manager and his bosses helped keep him in check. Being able to shoot movies and work with friendly actors helped him escape from wrestling when he needed to the most. In the end, being happy is all that matters in this world. If you hate life with a passion, you can’t be like Andre the Giant and be “closer to heaven”. It’s not a religious thing. It’s common sense that we all push aside at some point down the road. The key is to remember who we are and why we do what we do.

As short as this graphic novel is and as easy as it is to poke fun at the wrestling genre (again, I’m looking at you, Bill Maher), Andre the Giant: Closer to Heaven is a brilliantly-written piece of art that should be appreciated by wrestling and non-wrestling fans alike. It’s not just a biography of a pop culture icon. It’s a story. A real, living, breathing, three-dimensional story about a human being overcoming gargantuan obstacles. A passing grade is what this graphic novel deserves.