The Shield: David Aceveda vs. Juan Lozano a.k.a. the Award-Winning Meteorologist

 

David Aceveda from The Shield: Captain of The Barn, Which Is Full of Pigs

 

Kamala Harris vs. Alex Jones: "Sleeping Your Way to the Top" Is Better Than Plummeting Hard to the Bottom

 

Professor Chesko vs. Heel vs. Babyface (I swear it's not a triple threat match)

 

The Thunder Eagles

***THE THUNDER EAGLES***

How about we take a break from the high school drama known as Silent Warrior so that I can tell you a little story about my childhood. I promise you we’ll get back to our regularly scheduled program after these messages. Although, chapter thirteen will contain graphic sexual content, so if you want to look for it when it’s up, go to Wattpad. Until the day I write that chapter, you’re getting a story from my past.

In spite of the fact that I was raised on WWF, WCW, and ECW, I didn’t have much love for sports or exercise of any kind growing up. I’m paying for it now that I’m north of three hundred pounds, but even back when I was a skinny little string bean, athletic competition was hard for me. I’d gas out after the first few minutes. Imagine this kind of negative attitude applied to elementary school-level soccer.

In the early to mid-90’s, I lived in Elk Grove, California and achieved success in my third, fourth, and fifth grade academics. Athletic achievements? Not so much. My parents signed me and my brother James up for soccer, albeit different teams. James’s team, the Laguna Lasers, was successful and happy to be so. My team, The Thunder Eagles (not to be confused with the Thunderbirds), were an intergalactic disaster. We only won two games out of god knows how many and one of those two games was against a team of children who were much younger and smaller than us. For all of you wrestling nerds out there, it’s basically Bone Soldier beating the shit out of James Ellsworth.

As a child, I’ve always been a sore loser no matter what the game was. When I brother beat me at Connect Four, I threw a hissyfit like no other. When I played Hero Quest and my barbarian was killed, I threw game pieces across the living room in frustration. When the Thunder Eagles lost over and over again, I wanted to beat something up. It didn’t help matters that I was always getting knocked down (accidentally) or hit with the ball (accidentally) by the other players. Whenever one of them would hit me, I’d chase after them and throw hammer fists until I was benched for the rest of the game. And then when both of our teams formed lines to high five each other, I withdrew my hand. Hell, as angry as I was, I might as well have flipped them off instead. Vinny Jones would be so proud of me.

It also didn’t help matters that my own teammates were conspiring against me most of the time. I remember during practice how they would play keep away with a soccer ball I brought myself. I never could get the ball back from them, but every time someone kicked it away, I’d either shove them to the ground or kick them in the legs. I also remember a time when a fellow teammate named Jorge kept bouncing the ball off my legs, so I ran up to him, kicked him in the asshole, and made him cry. I’d later recall these stories as an adult to James, who kept asking me why I took everything so personally back then. I’d jokingly respond with, “They tried to kill me!”

If I had been an adult and committed these violent and vengeful acts against other players, I’d probably be in jail right now. But as a kid, you can get away with pretty much anything and the worst you’ll get is detention or a suspension (which is really just a nice vacation away from the stresses of school). In the case of soccer, my mom bribed me with a trip to McDonald’s after each game on the condition that I didn’t clobber anybody who accidentally bumped me down. One particular game, I got smacked in the thigh with the ball and it stung like hell. But instead of beating the shit out of another kid, I cried my eyes out. Needless to say, I earned my Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese that day.

The lesson I learned from all of this soccer immersion was that if at first you don’t succeed, cry and cry again. As I said before, the Thunder Eagles lost every game except for two. Plus, I was getting sick and tired of being smashed around and gassing out after only a few seconds of activity. While my brother James continues to enjoy an athletic lifestyle, I’ve resigned myself to a life of videogames and have remained injury free since then. That reminds me of another lesson I learned from soccer: if you get hit in what’s supposed to be a no-contact sport, the admins might as well make it as violent as possible. I would have loved to bring steel chairs and kendo sticks onto the soccer field with me, maybe even a barbed wire bat. Extreme Championship Soccer! ECS! ECS! ECS! ECS!

I’d like to think that this is why I continue to watch wrestling and MMA as an adult: because violent sports don’t try to hide behind the façade of being safe and conscientious about self-esteem. I guess football could be considered violent because of all the concussions the players get, but I have yet to see any of them whip out some martial arts moves on the gridiron, so football doesn’t count in the end. And now that we’re on the topic of violent sports, when, oh when are the Wrestling Observer Newsletter awards going to come out already?! That Most Disgusting Promotional Tactic award is ripe for the picking this year! Come on, Meltzer! I’m Garrison Kelly and I’ll see you next time!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“I’ll hypnotize you like a vampire. Bite your neck and set your head on fire. Shoot me with silver bullets, okay. I’ll pull ‘em out, pawn ‘em, and get paid!”

-Violent J from Insane Clown Posse rapping “Bring It On”-

2017 In Review

***WRITING***

Earlier this year, I published a collection of fifty micro-stories in the sci-fi, fantasy, and horror genres called Poison Tongue Tales. If it wasn’t for my awesome beta reader Marie Krepps, this publication wouldn’t be possible. I know I brag about her a lot, but that’s just an illustration of how wonderful of a friend she is to me. Pointing out weaknesses and possible solutions in my stories while maintaining a silver-tongued sense of humor is a valuable skill to have. It makes the editing process virtually painless when you’re dealing with someone who knows what the fuck they’re doing. So far Poison Tongue Tales is sitting pretty at a three-star out of five rating on Good Reads and Amazon. Then again, it has only been reviewed once, so I’ve got a lot of marketing ahead of me.

Whenever I’m not standing on a street corner and shouting about my book like a madman (is that how marketing is done?), I’m usually pumping out more first drafts. In 2017 alone, I’ve written micro-stories for American Darkness 2 (contemporary) and Poison Tongue Tales 2 (sci-fi, fantasy, and horror), poetry and songs for Lunatic Justice (a future publication that’s currently being beta-read by Marie), and a psychological heavy metal fantasy novella called Demon Axe. While trying to come up with the next novel idea, I’m currently pumping out more stories for what will be American Darkness 3.

I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love the writing business so much that I want to build my entire life around it. It may not be the most profitable venture I’ve ever embarked on, but who gives a shit? I could have just as easily obtained an engineering degree, but I’d be bored to tears at whatever job I got with it. The writing business doesn’t owe me anything. I owe the writing business everything.

***MUSIC CONCERTS***

Another thing I’m grateful for is the fact that I’ve seen five music concerts in 2017. It all began with Roger Waters at the Tacoma Dome during my birth month of June. The special effects, the poignant music, and of course, those creepy ass putty face masks, they made Roger Waters’ performance a special one. It was my fourth time seeing him live and this was easily my favorite performance of his. Just over a week later, I got to see the Pink Floyd tribute band Brit Floyd and they’re every bit as satisfying as the real deal. That’s a lot of Floyd in just a short time span. Then again, as long as someone is singing “We don’t need no education!” in my ear, I’m a happy motherfucker.

The other three concerts I went to in 2017 were spaced throughout the month of August. First on the list was Green Day at the White River Amphitheater. The second was Metallica at Century Link Field. And the third was Incubus, also at the White River Amphitheater. All three of these bands along with the openers brought their fucking A-games. I’ve never been prouder to be a metal head than in August 2017. Onstage antics, badass music, special effect gimmicks, and the sense of siblinghood I felt with the people sitting next to me at all three shows, they were worth the long rides home.

In 2018, I’ve scheduled myself for even more shows: Pop Evil and Starset in February (separate shows) and Papa Roach and Soulfly in May (also separate shows). And of course, every year at the White River Amphitheater, there’s the obligatory Pain in the Grass festival with an ass-load of bands (tickets aren’t available yet, but I’m fixing to snatch one up once the musicians are announced).

***COMEDY SHOWS***

This year has also seen a great deal of hee-haws and belly laughter, compliments of guys like Garrison Keillor, Brian Regan, Jason Mewes, and the cast of Capitol Steps. I know how bleak Garrison Keillor’s performance looks in hindsight considering he was exposed as a sexual predator in the #MeToo movement, but I went to see him long before the allegations surfaced, so I was able to enjoy a night of poetry and giggles with him.Brian Regan has been a favorite of my biological dad and brother James for a long time now. Going to see him was like a pilgrimage for them and I tagged along to get a few laughs in too. And then there was Jason Mewes’ Q&A session, where my James Bond-esque laugh got a huge pop from the crowd in attendance as well as Mr. Mewes himself. I got to meet Jason Mewes after the show and he couldn’t have been more cordial and fun to be around. To close out the giggle factory, there’s Capitol Steps, an ensemble cast of political figure impersonators who made the Donald Trump circus in 2017 bearable and laughable at the same time. In 2018, I’m planning on taking my mom with me to see Trevor Noah and Bill Maher (again, on separate shows), but I haven’t purchased the tickets yet.

***VACATIONS***

Sitting on airplanes or in cars during long trips can be summed up with the phrase “six hours of ass torture”. The vacations themselves, however, were worth the sore asses. The first vacation of 2017 was a Mexican cruise book-ended with a few days in California. I got to pet a manta ray, snuggle with a sea lion, ride a banana boat, and get my picture taken with Spiderman. The trip to Seaside, Oregon shortly after was a little more low-key with window shopping and beach strolling, but I like low-key all the same. And then I spent some time in New Orleans, where I ate pralines (and other delicious meals), bought Legos, got a table massage, and ventured onto a plantation to learn about the horrors of black slavery. Mom’s going to try and get a job as a teacher again so that we have extra income to go on more of these wonderful trips.

***CONCLUSION***

The more grateful you are for the positives in your life, the more positives you’ll have in the first place. This sounds ironic coming from a guy like me who has a permanent resting bitch face, but on the inside, I’m feeling the gratitude, which can only be described as warm and fuzzy. The year 2018 will bring good things as well if you want it to. Even if it’s something as simple as a back massage or a meal at Red Lobster, don’t take it for granted. Life is too short for constant complaining and drama. Be good to yourself in 2018. Don’t let this year of silver linings pass you by. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

***AMERICAN DARKNESS 3***

If there are two things American Darkness 3 is in no short supply of, it’s women named Vikki and women who are bound and gagged. “Duct Tape Princess” will bring you the best of both of those worlds. It goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

1.      Vikki Colt, Lounge Singer

2.      Nadia Rinehart, Street Fighter

3.      Johnny Rinehart, Nadia’s Gangster Husband

PROMPT CONFORMITY: To be announced.

SYNOPSIS: After putting on a seductive performance at a gangster bar, Vikki gets a visit in her apartment from a furious Nadia, who is convinced that Vikki was flirting with Johnny while onstage. Nadia has the fighting abilities to pummel anybody into powder, but instead she ties and gags Vikki with duct tape and holds her hostage in the apartment. The sexy songstress begins to think twice about choosing shady venues.

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Up next on the chopping block is Antonio Fujiwara, a giant ninja from a future Poison Tongue Tales 3 story called “A Bastard Sword in a Haystack”. Yes, you heard that right: a giant fucking ninja is attempting to blend in. He sticks out like a hard-on at the chalkboard, but that won’t stop him from at least attempting to find refuge in the dark forest, which happens to be full of tall trees.

***JOKE OF THE DAY***

Q: What do you call it when a fireman and a paramedic blow each other at the same time?

A: 69-1-1.

I Still Remember

I still remember the games we played

I still remember the price you paid

I still remember the lashings you took

In the name of the so-called good book

I still remember our time as kids

I still remember the good we did

I still remember the world’s response

Our biggest gain was their total loss

I still remember our videogames

I still remember your name

I still remember what we created

How teenaged years left us jaded

I still remember the crazy cartoons

Good guys, bad guys, all were buffoons

I don’t remember where those tapes went

I hope it was money well-spent

Now we are older, time passed us by

High school made us want to die

Though I wasn’t there to see you cry

I could have been if I only tried

Different cities, different stories

Different defeats, different glories

We can never return to those young days

Do you still remember how to play?

"Alley Kat Blues" by Karen Kijewski

BOOK TITLE: Alley Kat Blues

AUTHOR: Karen Kijewski (pronounced “key-EFF-ski”)

YEAR: 1995

GENRE: Fiction

SUBGENRE: Murder Mystery

GRADE: Pass

Kat Colorado is a California-based private investigator who suspects that an ex-Mormon college student named Courtney Dillard was murdered rather than the victim of a car accident. Kat’s boyfriend Hank is a Las Vegas detective who’s obsessed with finding a serial killer known as the Strip Stalker. Kat and Hank’s relationship hits several pot holes when Kat finds a stripper named Amber Echo in Hank’s bed and also when Hank can’t make time for his girlfriend anymore, constantly working the Strip Stalker case. As Kat digs deeper into both cases, she finds how much in common they have with each other and how they could both potentially destroy not just a relationship, but also Kat’s sanity.

In pretty much every detective book I’ve read in my life, the narrator always feels the need to point out that the mystery isn’t as easily solved in the book as it is on TV. DNA evidence, quick legal procedure, technological superiority, and open-and-shut cases can all be thrown out the window for Alley Kat Blues, because this is another example of that. As cliché as it is to rip on TV crime dramas, I also agree with this method of writing. Mysteries should be well-researched. Laws and procedure should be known by heart. Kat Colorado comes off as someone who could easily pass the bar exam if she wanted to. She also knows when to tell little white lies and how to get information out of her suspects in a deceptive way. If you want to read about a woman who knows what the hell she’s doing, this book is for you.

Another thing I enjoy about this book is Kat’s narration and dialogue throughout. Hard-boiled detectives have always been portrayed as fast-talkers and smart-asses, so why should it be any different with Kat Colorado? When someone in the book says she doesn’t look like a private investigator, she says, “I left my trench coat and fedora at the dry cleaners.” It’s not just one-liners that will grab the reader’s attention, but also the intrapersonal dialogue she has while having conversations and confrontations with various characters. And then there are certain attitudes she takes with the more difficult characters, often coming off as sarcastic, condescending, and clearly in control of the conversation. She doesn’t back down from anybody whether it’s a posturing male, a filthy gun salesman, a religious zealot, or even a guy on the edge of killing her. There are a lot of qualities one could enjoy about Kat’s character profile; pick one!

I’ll tell you something about the book you won’t like, but only in the sense of discomfort and not because you genuinely hate it: the way Karen Kijewski portrays rightwing fanatics. I’m not just talking about run of the mill Republicans who are all about family values and lower taxes. I’m talking about the fringiest of fringes and the cringiest of cringes. I’m talking about cult-like atmospheres where the men are in charge, the women and children are obedient, and anybody who questions the men’s authority will be beaten, raped, or psychologically tortured. Education is stripped away and all that’s left is brainwashing and zeal. The men in charge don’t need all the guns that they have, because they’ve already got enough power over their families to turn them into weapons themselves. It’s scary to think about, so much so that even Kat got rattled a few times in the story. No matter what your political stance, you will be shaken to the core. Why? Because zealots in the real world are just as terrifying. Remember, folks: this ain’t HBO.

Alley Kat Blues is a fun little read that goes by rather quickly despite the three hundred plus pages. Sometimes you might have to think carefully about how the clues connect with each other, but that’s why we read in the first place: to think critically, unlike the Mormon cults portrayed in this story. Once you think you have the answers, Karen Kijewski pulls the rug out from underneath you and you’re all out of whack. A passing grade will go to this wonderfully-crafted mystery that leaves no stone unturned.

"The Blood Files: the Case of Arnus Mortem" by BJ Taylor and Marie Krepps

BOOK TITLE: The Blood Files: the Case of Arnus Mortem

AUTHORS: BJ Taylor and Marie Krepps

YEAR: 2017

GENRE: Fiction

SUBGENRE: Vampire Horror

GRADE: Pass

Between the years 1929 and 1930, Arnus Mortem a.k.a. Jack the Ripper has been slaying and raping prostitutes on the streets of London with no signs of stopping. He piques the interest of vampire legend Dracula, who turns him into a vampire through a sexually charged ritual and sends him on a mission to build an army of vampires and conquer America. The murderous bloodbaths continue all over the streets of San Francisco, California, where even the cops are powerless to thwart Arnus and his new minions. Will America fall into corrupt and bloodstained hands? The trail of battered bodies seems to agree.

As a lover and writer of gory fiction, I applaud the level of gob-smacking violence the two authors have peppered in this novella. The way the blood, organs, and bones splatter and explode onto everything is delicious even to a non-vampire like myself. It’s almost as if the vampires are painting a masterpiece using the their favorite shades of red, pink, and purple. The sexual overtones are perfectly laced into these violent beat downs. While I won’t go into explicit detail as to how arousing the bloody sex is, make sure your kids are tucked into bed and that your own bedroom door is locked tightly. You might want to invest in a bank vault door if need be. If you love R-rated beauty, you’ll love this novella.

One minor complaint I have about this story is that there are a lot of corrupt characters in this story that are hard to root for. Arnus Mortem is a cold-blooded murderer turned vampire, Dracula is a genocidal misanthropist, Anne beats the crap out of her friend Susan with a baseball bat, and Renfield is a crooked cop who breaks more laws than he upholds. Even the last good guy in the book, Private Investigator Randall Jones, is a home wrecker for his secretary Penny as the two of them have a sexual affair together in his office. There are no clearly defined heroes in this book since everybody is either a murderer, a rapist, a genocidal lunatic, or a combination of all three. As much as we love to root for the villain, those are not likeable qualities for main characters. All they want to do is kill and have sex without any sign of a moral compass. But as I’ve said, that’s only a minor complaint and doesn’t take away from my ability to enjoy this brutal piece of horror fiction.

Not one human being in this novel is safe from vampire driven slaughter. Saw, Hostel, and even Blood Drive can’t compare to the brutality you’ll see in this novel. This novella is not for the weak at heart. Only the toughest and most badass readers will get a kick out of this sexy gore fest. I happen to love every page of this book. Marie Krepps and BJ Taylor are an outstanding team when it comes to vampire fiction and I hope they put out more books like these in the future. Come to think of it, there was a “to be continued” disclaimer at the end of the book, so it looks like my bloody desires will come true yet again! These two authors deserve a passing grade for this hardcore effort. Drink it in, folks (the story, not the blood, hehe!).

California and Colorado

VERSE 1

You’ve got traces of blood in your alcohol stream

Your biggest heroin dose put you in a dark dream

All your trust fund money went up your nose

Sucking up the cocaine like a vacuum cleaner hose

Wake up the next morning not knowing where you are

Shake the cobwebs to find out you’re in a cop car

Solitary confinement or the general population

No chance of parole or a suspended probation

CHORUS

Going to California and Colorado?

Your pipe dreams are not what they seem

Flying to the moon and the red planet?

Controlled substances tell you what you believe

Going to Washington and Canada?

You tell the lies and trust those who deceive

How about Seaside and Long Beach?

Get your ass clean and get a permanent reprieve

VERSE 2

Whoever’s in your ear is the one you should fear

Whether it’s a cult master with no charismatic peers

A drunken fool who thinks his magic is cool

A babbling idiot with diseases on his tool

ABRIDGED CHORUS

Going to California and Colorado?

Your pipe dreams are not what they seem

Flying to the moon and the red planet?

Controlled substances tell you what you believe

BRIDGE

All your potential went up in a cloud of smoke

All your arguments come off as a big fucking joke

All your meaningless words come out as word salad

Your story’s ending was marked with a judge’s mallet

VERSE 3

Was it worth the thrills and the temporary chills?

Was it worth the stacks of debt collection bills?

Was it worth the pain you put your family through?

Don’t say for a minute that you never really knew!

CHORUS

Going to California and Colorado?

Your pipe dreams are not what they seem

Flying to the moon and the red planet?

Controlled substances tell you what you believe

Going to Washington and Canada?

You tell the lies and trust those who deceive

How about Seaside and Long Beach?

Get your ass clean and get a permanent reprieve

Illness

***ILLNESS***

The Mexican cruise and the Californian trip was without a doubt the most fun I’ve had in a while with the major highlight being the sea lion and stingray encounters in Puerto Vallarta. Coming home from this lengthy vacation was supposed to be a nonstop relaxation fest where I snuggled with kitties and slept soundly in my own bed. But last Wednesday was anything but relaxing. I got some writing done that day, so that was worth celebrating. It was the boiling hot fever I got at the end of the night that set the tone for the rest of the week. And thus begins the very boring blog topic of…(yawn)…physical illness. Grab a pillow. It’s going to be a long one.

The night I had the fever, I also vomited in the toilet several times and had loose diarrhea. My sickness got so bad that I elected not to use my CPAP for fear that I might puke in it in my sleep. My breath was also so hot that it made the mask uncomfortable. I spent most of that night drinking Sparkling Ices and staying awake in my computer and reading chairs. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well that night and it would get worse over the next two days.

More vomiting ensued, so much so that my ribs were sore afterwards. Every time I would cough or sneeze, my rib pain would flare up. I was practically begging my mom to take me to the chiropractor after my sickness was over. Because I had more loose diarrhea and vomiting, instead of a chiropractor, I spent Friday night in the hospital. I had to be rehydrated with four pounds of water, but I probably lost even more than that throughout the sickness. What a hell of a way to lose weight.

During my stay in the hospital, I had a CAT scan to make sure I didn’t have appendicitis (I had gut pains on the right side of my body). I was greatly relieved when I tested negative, so chances are this whole sickness of mine was due to a virus going around or potentially food poisoning. The bug made more sense because my brother James and step-dad Dale got sick as well. My mom was already dealing with a bout of whooping cough once we got off the cruise ship. This whole week has just been one big barfaroni fest for all of us.

As a result of our collective sicknesses, my family has a shit ton of Gatorade and Campbell’s soup stocked up around the house. I didn’t start eating solid foods until just a few days ago. I’m doing much better today than I was a week ago. In fact, I might even go for a walk to the convenience store later today. It used to be that I was too weak and lazy to do basic chores like clean the litter box or take out the garbage. While I’m still sneezing and coughing like crazy, a sense of normalcy has been restored to the Haines-Temons-Stevens-Wilson household. Normal is good.

I can only hope that we’re all feeling well enough to see Garrison Keillor perform tomorrow night in Tacoma. We need him now more than ever in this Trump-ruled country. It’s going to be me, mom, Dale, and my therapist Rachel tagging along to see Mr. Keillor do his monologues. I hope it’s a wonderful performance! We’ve got ears, say cheers!

***DEMON AXE, CHAPTER 19***

In the interest of head-hopping fun (because that’s totally acceptable in literature), this chapter is going to focus on a confrontation between King Arthur Triscloud and Roger Zee. Arthur is bound to a crucifix atop a holy mountain with Roger Zee lecturing him the entire time. The two of them have a conversation about Roger’s motives and wondering just what the hell has gotten into him. It is during this conversation that Arthur reveals that he has some “special friends” coming for him and that Roger should heed his warning. The zealot laughs it off like it’s standup comedy, but is that a wise approach to such a stern threat?

***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

MICHAEL: At least your name isn’t Michael Bolton.

SAMIR: You know, there’s nothing wrong with that name.

MICHAEL: There WAS nothing wrong with it, until I was about twelve years old and that no-talent ass-clown became famous and started winning Grammies.

SAMIR: Why don’t you go by Mike instead of Michael?

MICHAEL: No way! Why should I change? He’s the one who sucks.

-Office Space-

Mexican Cruise and Californian Trip

***MEXICAN CRUISE AND CALIFORNIAN TRIP***

After a week and a half of fun in the sun, I’ve finally returned to the only place I could truly call home: Port Orchard, Washington. It’s pouring hard in the Pacific Northwest and it feels surprisingly good on my skin after spending so long south of the border. Speaking of water, because most of the places I went to were beaches with rough waters, I didn’t take any pictures due to the possibility of my camera getting short circuited. So instead of a photo gallery, I’m going to write this blog and hopefully that’ll be just as good. The mark of a good author, after all, is to keep a movie going on inside the reader’s head. So let’s get to it.

Mom, Dale, and I left the house on Sunday March 26^th at 2:00 in the morning to fly out to Los Angeles, California, where the Mexican cruise ship was docked. This was easily the most exhausting day of the trip since I had to wait so long to sleep in one of my cabin’s beds. I can’t sleep while sitting upright, only while I’m lying down, so resting on the plane was out of the question. When we finally got to our room at 1:00 in the afternoon, there were only two normal beds and then a bunk bed above one of them.

This is where our room attendant Dennis came in handy. This Filipino gentleman brought in a lower bed so that I didn’t have to climb up and down the bunk and potentially fall down or step on my mom. He also won us over with his bright and cheery personality and little animals he made for us out of towels and washcloths. Mom made sure to tip him as much as possible while giving him a glowing review on the feedback cards. I hope he earns a good salary on that ship, because he deserves every dollar he makes and more.

Monday and Tuesday were uneventful since those were the days we were out to sea, so we had to entertain ourselves. I got lots of reading done, I jotted down story and character ideas in my Lego journal, I got some exercise in, and I ate some damn good food. Most of the time during these days was spent catching up on Z’s after such a heavy day of traveling on Sunday. Mom and Dale snored like chainsaws whenever they weren’t watching MSNBC.

The first excursion took place Wednesday in Puerto Vallarta. While Mom and Dale were soaking up the sun on the beach, I climbed up and down god knows how many stairs on my way to a sea lion and stingray adventure. I actually got inside the pools where these cuddly animals were being kept. I petted them, hugged them, and even let the sea lion kiss me on the cheek, to which the creature nodded when asked by the trainer if he liked it. The sea lion and stingray were preparing me for the cuddliness that was waiting for me when I eventually got home with my own animals. I even heard one of the kids say that the sea lion looked like a giant puppy. Aww!

The second excursion was on Thursday and it was in Mazatlan, which when translated into English means “deer land”. My main activity here was riding around on a banana boat…twice. The first time was more thrilling than a rollercoaster and I howled in appreciation the whole ride through. Then I made the boneheaded decision to ride the boat again amidst rough waters and high waves. I got knocked off the side of the boat and yelled “HELP!” a few times before making my way back to shore and huffing and puffing in exhaustion.

Due to the sunburns and scariness of the previous excursion, Mom, Dale, and I decided riding around on a glass bottom boat to look at marine life was a better idea for the Cabo San Lucas excursion. Seals, pelicans, and fish were the main attractions of this ride and they were cuter than a bug’s ear, especially the seals congregated on a giant rock barking like puppy-dups. Every time I see a commercial on TV for Thompson’s Water Seal, I’m going to immediately think of these cuddly seal pies in Cabo San Lucas. I’m not sure if they would have been as friendly as the sea lion in Puerto Vallarta, but I want to snuggle with them anyways!

Saturday was spent sailing back to Los Angeles and Sunday was the official day we got off the ship. We spent a few days in California at a Hilton hotel where the beds were soft and spacious. Lord knows how long we were knocked out and snoring like lawnmowers, but it was dark outside by the time we woke up.

Monday was spent going on a Hollywood bus tour. We made stops at Venice Beach, the Hollywood walk of fame, Santa Monica, and…I forget where else. We chose this low-key activity instead of going to Disneyland since the latter required a lot of walking and my mom had knee surgery only months prior. Besides which, Disneyland was overrun with schoolchildren on spring break, so that would have meant standing in long ass lines to get on the rides. The Hollywood bus tour was plenty of fun on its own since my mom got pictures of Chinese theater handprints, walk of fame stars, and me posing with a guy in a Spiderman costume. Plus, we both got to pet a nameless tuxedo kitty on our way back from Venice Beach. So much cuteness!

Tuesday April 4^th was when we finally flew home to sleep in our own beds, snuggle with our own animals, and use our own computers. Vacations can be fun, but there’s no greater feeling than coming back home to your own devices after being gone for so long. Smokey missed me. Maggie left a brown present for me to clean up. Plus, there’s a new addition to our animal family: a gray and white kitty named Chloe. I’ll have to get pictures of her since she’s too darn cute not to photograph.

So that’s what I’ve been doing for the past week and a half. Traveling is exhausting and computer time is minimal, so I didn’t get much done in the way of creativity aside from reading 130 pages of “A Nose For Justice” by Rita Mae Brown. Even now when I write this blog entry, I feel like I’ve gotten rusty since the last time I wrote. But hey, with a little more practice, I can get back in tiptop form. It’s not like I haven’t gone on long vacations before, so I’m definitely capable of coming back to life. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

VIC MACKEY: Do you want to catch this killer or not?

DAVID ACEVEDA: Wow. Going undercover as dirty cops. Do you think you can pull that off?

VIC MACKEY: We can try.

-The Shield, which, like my vacation, took place in Los Angeles and sometimes Mexico-

Mexican Cruise

***MEXICAN CRUISE***

From March 26th (this Sunday) to April 4th (next Tuesday), I’m going to have a minimal presence on the internet due to a Mexican cruise I’m going on with my parents with a trip to Disneyland afterwards. It feels good to get out of the house every then and what better way to do it than by embarking on a Mexican cruise? Beautiful beaches, beautiful women, beautiful sunshine…beautiful everything! I might even bring home a pair of Mickey Mouse ears, hopefully ones that will fit over my gigantic head.

As I’ve said with past vacations, my online presence will be reduced to answering messages here and there and nothing more. That means for the next two WSS contests (including this one), I’m going to withdraw my participation. No Demon Axe chapters until I get back home in my own beddy-bye with my own kitty-pie. Heh, that rhymes. Maybe I’ll get pairs of mouse ears for my kitties and puppies. Can you imagine how silly Maggie would look with Mickey Mouse ears? She already looks like a Disney dog, so what more could we possibly do? Hehe!

Adios, amigos! Thanks for reading!

***POISON TONGUE TALES***

My paperback copy of Poison Tongue Tales has finally arrived in the mail today. Everything looks in tiptop condition, so I gave my approval for publication and it’ll be a few days before my book becomes available on Amazon. A lot of hard work went into editing the hell out of this collection of short stories. I know it’ll be well-received by those who decide to buy a copy. My biggest thanks goes out to Marie Krepps for her wise-assed critiques and awesome cover-designing skills. She did a lot for me over the past few years and it’s a debt I can never repay no matter how hard I try. Thank you so much, Babe-a-Licious Mondo!

***WRESTLING JOKE OF THE DAY***

Q: What did Roman Reigns say to Captain Jack Sparrow?

A: I thought pirates had cannonballs. It turns out you’re just smuggling some BB pellets.

Demon Axe

***DEMON AXE***

I see all of my writer friends publishing novels left and right and it makes me wonder what I’m doing sitting on my ass. The last time I wrote a novel, summer in 2015 was coming to an end and the story was a psychological fantasy called “Watch You Burn”. Ever since then, it remained a first draft and I had devoted my attention to other projects, such as the WSS contests, editing the shit out of “Occupy Wrestling”, and editing the shit out of “Poison Tongue Tales”. And then I had real life obstacles getting in the way such as sleep apnea, concerts, and exhausting housework. Wherever could I find the time to write a novel these days? Do I truly have to wait until November a.k.a. NaNoWriMo?

The correct answer is not only no, but hell no. I used to pump out novels like an assembly line back in my younger years. They were shitty novels, but they were novels nonetheless. So what pray tell is keeping me from writing a novel in today’s world? Absolutely nothing. Those other creative projects can be done side-by-side with my novel and it wouldn’t affect my energy levels. It’s been a full year since “Watch You Burn” and now it’s time to get some shit done.

In the same way that “Occupy Wrestling” lionizes pro-wrestling and “Watch You Burn” supports people with mental illnesses, this new novel idea, “Demon Axe”, will lionize heavy metal. When you get right down to it, those are the three tropes I live with the most: wrestling, metal, and schizophrenia. Such a wonderful combination! So here it is, ladies and gentlemen: a character list and synopsis for what will be called “Demon Axe”:

MAIN CHARACTERS:

Daniel Mercer, Heavy Metal Singer

Shawn Henry, Police Detective

Raven Triscloud, Elf Warrior

King Triscloud, Elf Leader

Roger Zee, Elf Zealot

Johnny Vega, Giant Wrestler

Sonia Marquez, MMA Fighter

SYNOPSIS: Daniel and his band Demon Axe play a show on an open field that is believed to be holy ground for elves. Not believing the legends, the band goes ahead with the show anyways and encourages the wrath of Roger Zee, a machete-wielding elf who slashes the audience members to pieces. While Shawn Henry tries to investigate, Daniel is visited in the late hours of the night by Raven. Raven wants his help in hunting down Roger and putting him back in his tomb. Daniel confesses that the band name Demon Axe and their onstage dark fantasy gimmicks are just for show and he’s not a real warrior. Raven doesn’t believe him.

If you’ve seen the name Raven Triscloud before, it’s because she was a character in a D&D campaign back in 2010. I’ve asked Heather (the original owner of that character) if it was okay to use her in a story and she said yes. I tried to recycle her into a dark fantasy novel called “Fireball Nightmare”, but that story was too Gary-Stu and Mary-Sue infested. Hopefully, Demon Axe will be a better fit for her.

Spoiler alert: there’s going to be a sex scene in this novel. Not just any sex scene, but an ANGRY sex scene. I’ve often wondered if people really do have angry sex with each other. It seemed legitimate after I went to a Three Days Grace concert and Matt Walst asked the audience pointblank, “Have you ever fucked somebody you hate?!” The audience erupted into cheers after that, so I guess angry sex is a real thing.

I have two other novel ideas that are planned out from beginning to end: a debt collection drama called “Debt of Pain” (naturally) and an animal fantasy called “LuNacho” (named after two stray cats who eventually went to the Humane Society named Luna and Nacho). Demon Axe appeals to me the most right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m casting those other two ideas aside so easily.

Because I want Demon Axe to be a full-fledged novel and not a shortie like “Occupy Wrestling” ended up being, it will have to conform to the 40,000 word quota. That means all twenty chapters of this novel will have to be at least 2,000 words long, which is 500 more than what I’m used to writing with chapters and short stories alike. It’s going to be a challenge, but I know full well that if I keep writing within my comfort zone, I’m never going to get anywhere.

Wish me luck, faithful readers. Keep your devil horns up in the air for my boys Demon Axe!

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Dovald ended up scaring the shit out of my mother when I showed my drawing of him to her. If she thought a bulky dark paladin with creepy face paint was something to behold, she’s never met Tara Greenlee. Tara is a demonic hallucination from the short story “Dancing with Mary Jane” who torments two corrupt cops to the point of insanity. Tara Greenlee is basically Guillermo Batista from “The Balrog” on steroids. Watch out for this bloodthirsty monster!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“You can’t see California without Marlon Brando’s eyes!”

-Slipknot singing “Eyeless”-

Fight to the Death: Mitch McLeod vs. The Hunter

I, Garrison Kelly, challenge you, Andy Peloquin, to a duel to the death! But it is not we who will fight, but our characters…

In the black corner, weighing in at 180 pounds, standing a cool 6 feet tall, the Hunter of Voramis!

Tale of the Tape:

1. ·         Superhuman reflexes, strength, speed--think Captain America, but stronger
2. ·         Thousands of years of weapons training
3. ·         Body has accelerated healing factor--can survive a sword to the heart (can be killed by drowning, iron weapons, beheading, and suffocation)
4. ·         Cannot be killed by anything but iron
5. ·         Accursed dagger that heals him when he kills
6. ·         No magical abilities whatsoever
7. ·         No hesitation to kill if he perceives opponent as a threat/obstacle to his desires--classic anti-hero

In the red corner, from Los Angeles, California, standing 6’4” and weighing in at 268 lbs., “The Hardcore Hero” Mitch McLeod!

Tale of the Tape:

1. Preferred style of fighting is professional wrestling
2. Described by commentators as a "technical brawler", meaning he is proficient in suplexes, throws, and submission holds
3. Can also slug it out for as long as he wants.
4. Being a professional wrestler requires mental and physical toughness, which he has in spades.
5.  It took an entire roster of monsters and demons just to send him to the ICU and he still delivered his story's final blow.

Two enter the ring, only one can leave alive!

How would Mitch McLeod kill the Hunter? Since professional wrestling requires toughness and endurance, Mitch will absorb two strikes from The Hunter's sword just to deliver one massive superman punch. Once the Hunter is wounded, Mitch can pass through his defenses and perform bone-crunching wrestling moves like the piledriver, the body slam, the belly-to-belly suplex, and even a Texas Cloverleaf submission hold.

To kill Mitch McLeod: The Hunter would try to overwhelm him with his inhuman speed, strength, and skill. All he has to do is pierce him skin with Soulhunger, and the dagger will consume his soul. Not even someone with considerable magical abilities can survive Soulhunger's bite--it was created to kill demons. 

Who would win?

Because he can last longer than any opponent The Hunter has ever faced. Mitch could shake the ropes Ultimate Warrior-style and find his second wind, his third wind, and every wind after that until he finally delivers a spine-jarring power-bomb and paralyzes The Hunter like he did to a seven footer named Jack Finnegan.

But not even the mighty fists of the technical brawler can put the Hunter down for long. No matter how many times McLeod takes him to the ground, the Hunter will get back up. With every taste of McLeod's blood, Soulhunger floods the Hunter with strength and healing and weakens the wrestler. Mitch McLeod may be the greatest warrior to enter the ring, but the Hunter has defeated demons.

Winner: The Hunter. In the end, Soulhunger claims all souls.

Want to find out more about this cold-blooded killer who would dare challenge the former KDW World Heavyweight Champion to the death? Click here https://www.amazon.com/Blade-Destroyer-Last-Bucelarii-Book-ebook/dp/B012EI9M4A  to read about The Hunter.

http://andypeloquin.com/  

Who do YOU think would win? Did we get the match-up right? Leave a comment below and let me know.

Independence Day

***INDEPENDENCE DAY***

Just like Valentine’s Day, July 4^th is a holiday I don’t get too emotionally invested in. Yes, the fireworks are nice to watch. Yes, the barbecued food tastes delicious. But truth be told, I’ve never really considered myself to be overly patriotic when it comes to America. I don’t have a giant American flag hanging from every corner of my house. I don’t sing “The Star Spangled Banner” every chance I get. I don’t have red white and blue clothing of any kind. I don’t understand national pride, that’s all.

There are some parts about America that I like and some that I don’t. I like vacationing on California and visiting their theme parks. I like taking trips to Seattle, Tacoma, and Auburn to see my favorite bands perform. I like going to Seaside, Oregon and strolling around on the beaches (even during an overcast day). I like all of the dog-friendly towns I’ve visited over the years. What I can do without, however, is national conformity, ignorance, and selfishness. I’m also mature enough to realize that not all Americans are like that. I’ve made lots of American friends over the years and I’d hug them all if I could.

Of course, the standard reaction to a lack of enthusiasm for America is, “If you don’t like it, then get out!” Even though people say it a lot, it’s not a realistic thing to say. In order to gain citizenship to another country, you have to go through a lot of bureaucratic hoops, the process of which could take days, weeks, or even years. Getting a work visa can be just as frustrating. While all of the paperwork is going through, where is this unenthusiastic American supposed to go? The ocean? Mars? The Dark Side of the Moon? The Fifth Dimension? Parts Unknown?

And then you have another typical response in the form of, “You’re disrespecting our soldiers!” No, I’m not. In fact, this conversation wasn’t even about soldiers until that point. Even though I disagree with war, I know being a soldier is one of the hardest jobs in the world today. When they come back to the States, a lot of horrible things can happen from homelessness to PTSD. Paying for their health costs, both mental and physical, would be a wiser use for our tax dollars than sending them to war in the first place.

So just because I don’t wave an American flag everywhere I go, doesn’t mean that I’m leaving this country anytime soon. I’m currently at peace with my life in a little town in Washington State called Port Orchard. I used to think of Port Orchard as a paragon of boredom until I realized that most of my boredom was my own doing. Sure, there aren’t any video arcades or comic book shops that I can readily go to, but I still have all of these books on my shelves to read, all of these shows to watch, and all of these short stories that need to be written.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to…do something…fun…I don’t know what yet, but it’ll happen. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

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

I took a one-week vacation from the WSS and now I feel refreshed enough to take part in their contests again. The theme this week is “Crescent Moon” and my story will be called “Chunky Puffs” (any Ed, Edd, n’ Eddy fans in the house?). It goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

Nick Savage, Gothic Vampire

Soa, Cannibal

Tufu, Cannibal

PROMPT CONFORMITY: The party Nick went to was being held under a crescent moon, which means there’s no danger of werewolves since they require the full moon to transform.

SYNOPSIS: Nick wakes up after passing out at a gothic party and finds himself tied to a giant barbecue rack with Soa and Tufu eager to eat him. Nick is actually the hungriest person in this group, but he reconsiders drinking his attackers’ blood since due to their questionable diets. The vampire and the cannibals exchange food jokes back and forth to each other until Nick breaks free from his bondage and engages in a bloody battle with his captors.

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Up next on deck is Derrick O’Brien, the werewolf fugitive from the short story “Chaos”, a title I’m considering changing. He used to be part of a story called “Vampire On Fire” until I realized that “Chaos” would be a better fit for him. Unlike Jacob Black, Derrick is not a pretty boy who likes gentle sex. He’s a monstrous thug who likes it rough and bloody. I pity any motherfucker who stands in his way.

***POLITICAL QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“God created war so that Americans would learn geography.”

-Mark Twain-

The Cryomancer

Olivia Snow could feel the frozen energy surging through her body. A cool breeze blew past her and little snowflakes were descending upon her. To this elf wizard dressed in black ninja gear, this form of magic was known as cryomancy. She had spent tireless years perfecting this beautiful, yet deadly art. With the eight-foot tall fat-ass obnoxious ogre standing in front of her with a bloody smile on his face, Olivia knew she had to be ready to use it at a moment’s notice.

The ogre swung its mighty club down upon Olivia, but the elf cartwheeled out of the way and allowed the heavy weapon to create a spider web crack in the stone ground. The ogre continued to swing with wild rage and unquenchable bloodlust, smashing down trees all in the name of trying to hit this swift ice maiden. She flipped and flopped away from every powerful strike.

When it was her turn to strike, she extended her fingertips and blasted the gigantic weapon with an icy mist. The weapon went from being a gigantic popsicle to diamond dust as it shattered after the ogre dropped it. The monstrous warrior flexed his muscles and roared to the sky in his loudest voice.

Olivia shook her head no at the raving beast and blasted him with a gigantic glacial spike, piercing him through his black heart. Even then the ogre was able to rip out the spike and scream in fury some more. Even though he was bleeding profusely from his chest, he yelled out, “Is that the best you’ve got, woman?! You’re a dead bitch!”

The ogre stampeded his way toward the now vulnerable cryomancer, creating impressions and craters in the ground with every thunderous step. Olivia flipped backwards onto a treetop and rained down smaller glacial spikes upon her opponent. This time he bled even more profusely and his tough guy mentality couldn’t save him from becoming a limp and lifeless corpse on the ground. Once the ogre hit the floor and his blood splattered everywhere, his body crumbled into snowflakes and the wind blew him away.

Olivia Snow sat down on the tree branch and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She was so exhausted that she could have fallen asleep in that tree. And then the familiar pounding footsteps rang out across the forest and the elf wizard opened her dreary eyes to see at least five more of these hideous ogres lusting for her death. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” she said to herself. She even stood up on the tree branch and yelled to the sky, “Julian, what the hell is wrong with you! Give me a goddamn break!”

In a small apartment in Hollywood, California, Julian Kane took a break from writing his epic screenplay at the computer and asked, “Did that bitch really just talk to me?” He tried to shake off the tiredness in his eyes and even slapped his own face for good measure. The harder the screenwriter tried to wake up, the more he slacked backwards and snored.

After letting out a ferocious yawn, the scraggly haired and pajama-dressed Julian dragged himself out of his seat and headed toward the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. He looked blurrily at the clock on the stove and said, “No fucking way” when he realized he had been writing and editing that script from the early morning to the dark of night.

He would have gladly gone to bed if it wasn’t for the fact that this movie script was due tomorrow morning at the director’s office. Instead he made his pot of coffee like he set out to do. When he poured it in a cup and tried to drink it however, it was colder than a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. It even triggered sensitivities in his teeth. “Goddamn, man, I need to get to bed,” Julian said to himself. He absentmindedly threw the cold coffee into the sink and shattered his mug.

Mr. Kane got to his bedroom doorway and sobbed to himself when he realized he couldn’t go to bed until his movie script was finished. What broke him out of his sobbing spell was looking out the window and seeing a snowstorm outside. That’s right: a snowstorm in Hollywood, California in June. “What the fuck is going on here?” he said.

Julian trudged back to his computer to put the finishing touches on his masterpiece. He heard a familiar feminine voice ask him, “Do you really think pitting that many ogres against me will make me the strong feminine hero everybody wants to see? There’s a difference between paying your dues and being screwed over. Nobody will want to watch this movie.”

“Jesus, lady, what the fuck do you know about screenwriting? It’s an art form. Besides, if you beat all those ogres, I’m sure…” Julian’s dialogue was cut off by him chattering his teeth. “Goddamn, it’s cold in here.”

“Yes, Julian, I agree. I am after all a cryomancer. That is what your movie will eventually be called, right? How do you think it’s going to do at the box office if I somehow get a fluke victory in an fight a clearly can’t win? All the ice magic in the world isn’t going to save me from getting stepped on or pounded into the ground. Then again, what kind of a hero would I be if I could just the entire world’s population into ice cream sandwiches?”

Julian formed a confused look on his face and asked, “Wait a minute, why am I talking to my own character? You’re not even real. Besides, you don’t get to question me and my decision making. You’re a character. You do what you’re told and that’s it!”

One of the windows in his apartment shattered and snow began covering his carpeted floor. Julian Kane looked on with saucer-like eyes and a trembling jaw. “No! This isn’t real! There’s no such thing as cryomancy! It’s all bullshit! You hear that, Olivia? You’re no different from Pinocchio or the Three Little Pigs! You’re a cartoon and nothing more!”

His front door was the next thing to burst open and the snowstorm followed, turning the entire apartment into a winter wonderland. Standing in the doorway with glowing blue eyes, black ninja garb, and blue energy forming at her fingertips was none other than Olivia Snow. She pointed at the convulsing Julian and said, “You’re no screenwriter and you will not be the author to my pain!”

From her fingertips, she shot a tightly-packed snowball and pinged Julian in his stomach, causing him to double over and clutch his wound. Another snowball flew his direction and hit him in the shoulder. Another came and hit him in the leg. The final blow was smack dab in the middle of his forehead, which caused him to flip around and land flat on his back. His breathing was shallow and his vision was fading.

Olivia knelt down beside his victim and whispered in his ear, “You’re the hero of my screenplay now. If you can get through this, you can get through anything. So what are you going to do about all of this? Are you going to pay your dues or are you going to break like a little bitch?” The elf bit down hard on Julian’s earlobe and drew blood.

That was the sharp pain that awakened the screenwriter from his dream while hunched over his keyboard. Julian’s neck and back were sore from the awkward sleeping position and his eyes were blurry as he tried to read his computer screen. “Screw the director. I’m going to bed. This is bullshit.”

Julian stood up and fished around in his pajama pocket for his smart phone. As soon as his eyes adjusted, he speed dialed the number for his director. He wasn’t picking up, so the screenwriter left a zombie-like message. “Hey. It’s Julian Kane. Listen, I’m not going to be able to get you the script for The Cryomancer tomorrow. I’ve been exhausted lately trying to figure out my own plot holes and shit. Well, that and doing all of these media tours you keep booking me for. I’m going to bed for the evening. You’ll get your movie script in a couple of days, maybe even a week. If you don’t like the timetable, then quit exhausting the shit out of me. Bye!”

Mr. Kane tossed his smart phone on the couch and did his zombie walk back to his bedroom. He didn’t bother brushing his teeth or taking his medication. He just plopped on the bed and covered himself up.

He felt an icy hand on his shoulder and a gentle whisper in his ear from a familiar feminine voice. “You made the right decision, honey.”

“You’re damn right I did. Wait a minute, what?” said Julian as he flipped over to see who was in his bed. It was nobody. His mind was playing tricks on him again even when he agreed to go to sleep. He tiredly laughed it off and covered up his head. He snored and drooled like a tranquilized animal, though he kept wondering why his ear was scarring over and why there was blood on his pillow.

The snow continued to fall over the magical city of Hollywood. Magic? What kind of magic? It wouldn’t happen to be cryomancy, would it?

San Diego

CHORUS
I left my tears in San Diego
I left my heart in the land of Legos
I left my soul in the sandy beaches
Innocence reborn is what this teaches


VERSE 1
Building blocks are no longer just toys
They add some color to schizophrenic noise
The ogre and dragon went to war today
The mini-figures have been laid to waste
Emmet and Metal Beard make things weird
Chaotic minds make them a team to be feared
Let’s build a bridge to the next adventure
With all these bricks from the shopping center


CHORUS
I left my tears in San Diego
I left my heart in the land of Legos
I left my soul in the sandy beaches
Innocence reborn is what this teaches


VERSE 2
The beaches look like heaven today
Soaked forever in ultraviolet rays
Lovely ladies chilling in swimsuits
Fluffy puppies take their masters’ route
Frisbees flying in the clear blue sky
Flower children blow smoke to get high
I’ll laze in the sand until time stands still
If you don’t stay, then I damn sure will


CHORUS
I left my tears in San Diego
I left my heart in the land of Legos
I left my soul in the sandy beaches
Innocence reborn is what this teaches


VERSE 3
A bowl of mac and cheese if you please
A plate of fried rice tastes so nice
Who cares about calories when it feels good?
Wolf all that down? You knew I would
Dinner and a show on the cinema screen
R-rated heaven it’s so sick and obscene
Getting on that plane is the hardest part
Of giving San Diego my soul and heart


HOOK
December ‘14 was when my smile returned
When the world finally no longer burned
I held onto paradise with an iron tight grip
As I soak in the hot tub for one last dip

The Shield

TV SHOW TITLE: The Shield
CREATOR: Shawn Ryan
YEARS ACTIVE: 2002-2008
GENRE: Crime Drama
RATING: TV-MA for violence, language, and sexual situations
GRADE: Pass


The city of Los Angeles is plagued with crime whether it’s gang-related, corporate, or the work of a sadistic serial killer. With Detective Vic Mackey and his Strike Team on the case, the justice may be worse than the crime itself. Vic is not afraid to break the rules when it comes to catching criminals. He’s not above torturing suspects or even killing and intimidating other cops if it means closing a case or saving his own ass. Even under the hawk-like eyes of Captain David Aceveda and the scrutiny of his peers such as Detective Dutch Wagenbach and Officer Danielle Sofer, Vic Mackey manages to stay one step ahead of everyone else and leaves a trail of blood and broken bones in his wake.

Unlike crime dramas such as Castle, NCIS, Bones, and Rizzoli and Isles, The Shield takes the viewers to a much darker place where the humor is raunchy and the violence is graphic. As I’ve mentioned in the opening paragraph, Vic often tortures his suspects to get a confession or information to a bigger arrest. Over the course of the show, he has whipped a suspect with a chain, burned a suspect’s face on a stovetop, stabbed a cop killer with his badge, and in the first episode shot another cop named Terry Crowley because Terry was a rat within the Strike Team. Vic Mackey and his team are like police brutality on steroids. The more people complained against him and his tactics, the more bruises and scars those people got. It’s an endless stream of graphic beatings and torture until the city is safe again, at least from the original gangsters, but not Mackey.

As vicious as Vic can be, the things he did on the show will never compare to what happened to David Aceveda in the third season of the show. David is investigating the home of a Mexican gangster named Juan Lazano. Juan jumps David from behind, binds his hands with a TV cord, and orally rapes him while Juan’s buddy is filming the whole thing with a smart phone. The sodomy was disturbing enough, but it was the ongoing trauma, family dissention, and blackmail David experienced afterwards that made The Shield hard to watch. When it comes to TV-MA-rated shows, I’m not a wimp by any stretch of the imagination, but even David Aceveda’s oral rape storyline was enough to shake me to my core.

If you strip away all of the torture, forced sex, limb chopping, burnings, and blood, you still have a well-written detective show. Yes, all of that hardcore and disgusting content is good for the Nightmare Fetishists out there, but The Shield isn’t just about violence and brutality; it has substance. It asks the bold question of whether or not the ends justify the means and how far we’re willing to trust the government to protect us when they commit questionable acts. Police brutality is an ongoing problem even in today’s world; just ask the families of Michael Brown and Eric Garner. The Shield does what all forms of media should do: it holds a mirror up to society and shows everyone its ugliest features. The show doesn’t glorify police brutality; it questions it. And by the end of the series, everybody on that show gets what they deserve whether it’s for better or worse.

But sometimes all you want from a detective show is a solid series of cases where the police work is intelligent and the laws and techniques are well-researched. You’ll get all of those things with The Shield. Shawn Ryan wasn’t just putting together a montage of beatings; he was putting together solid cases that real police officers and detectives would have to solve using their sharp investigative skills. Even Vic Mackey and his Strike Team are capable of using smart investigative tactics; otherwise, they wouldn’t be detectives.

All in all, The Shield is the complete package that a detective show is supposed to have. The only things that separate it from other shows is its dark nature, it’s bold statements, and its TV-MA rating. The show was revolutionary in more ways than TV being allowed to use the word “shit”, which is why it deserves a passing grade.

　

***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

VIC MACKEY: Do you want to catch this criminal or not?

DAVID ACEVEDA: Going undercover as dirty cops. You guys think you can pull that off?

VIC MACKEY: We can try.

-The Shield-

NCIS: Los Angeles

TV SHOW TITLE: NCIS: Los Angeles
CREATOR: Shane Brennan
YEARS ACTIVE: 2009-present
GENRE: Crime Drama
RATING: TV-PG or TV-14, depending on the level of violence
GRADE: Pass


The NCIS Special Ops team solves Navy and Marine-based murders in Los Angeles using a mixture of raw firepower and technological brilliance. Every case they tackle has national security implications and creating international incidents would not be uncommon among the crooks. Through it all, this dedicated team of government agents has each other’s backs until the very end. There may be the occasional infighting, but loyalty and efficiency always come first when completing a mission.

As of today, there are three different NCIS shows: one based in Washington, DC, one based in New Orleans, and the subject of today’s review, the one based in Los Angeles. Out of all three of these franchises, Los Angeles can be considered the most action-packed, which is perfect for anyone looking to get out their primal urges. The shootouts are dramatic, the explosions are intense, the fight scenes are brutal, and every victory achieved by the NCIS team is earned with blood. Occasionally, there will be a Deus Ex Machina ending where a bunch of soldiers come in to save our agents asses, but they don’t come without a compelling explanation, hence why they’re not Deus Ex endings anymore. If you want raw action that makes Bruce Lee movies look like TV-Y snore fests, NCIS; LA is your kind of show.

But of course, no matter which part of the country NCIS is stationed, there will always be colorful characters that bring the series to life and give the audience a reason to be giddy, even if only for a few minutes before the heart-racing action begins. The two main agents are G. Callen and Sam Hanna, two guys who can have a conversation about anything and make it sound like a lot of fun. Then there are the two technical geeks, Eric Beal and Nell Jones, who can be described as delightfully nerdy and giggle-worthy. Then there are the two overseers, Director Henrietta Lange and Assistant Director Owen Granger, who while they both employ a more serious and stern conversational style, they’re still fun to watch since these are two people who make their opponents pay dearly for their sins.

I’d be remised if I didn’t mention the one partnership that everybody is starry-eyed and lovey-dovey about: Detective Marty Deeks and Special Agent Kensi Blye. Marty Deeks can be described as a smart-ass who can crack jokes at seemingly the most serious times. Kensi is the straight woman to all of Marty’s jokes. In fact, she has snarky remarks of her own that bring their chemistry to almost romantic levels on screen. NCIS: Los Angeles fans have been clamoring for these two to finally become a couple instead of just partners. After comforting each other for recent traumas they went through and being around when they need a good emotional breakdown, the fans are sooner than later going to get their chance. And when they do get together, it’s going to be television magic. The fan boys and fan girls will be doing back flips and somersaults, trust me on this one.

If a show comes on TV and it has the NCIS tag in front of it, don’t change the channel. NCIS: Los Angeles is no exception to this rule. It is fast-paced, it is witty, it is heartbreaking, and it will bring the audience and characters closer together with every episode. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go wipe something out of my eye after talking about Deeks and Kensi, otherwise known as Densi.

　

***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

DEEKS: Am I missing something here?

KENSI: Yeah, a cerebral cortex.