Office Space

MOVIE TITLE: Office Space

DIRECTOR: Mike Judge

YEAR: 1999

GENRE: Comedy

RATING: R for language

GRADE: B

It feels weird watching this movie during the Great Resignation. Everybody in America is figuring out how bad their jobs are, so they’re leaving for higher ground. Monotony, low pay, uncaring bosses, lack of opportunities, these are all perfectly valid reasons to hate a job. The audience has no problem living vicariously through the main character, Peter Gibbons, who hates his white-collar job so much that he becomes an aloof slacker. What is he going to do for money? Well, that’s where you’ll have to watch the movie and find out. Whatever it is, it certainly won’t be crunching numbers at a pointless job. Building sympathy for the little guy is something this movie does well. It’s a shame it didn’t fare well at the box office, but its status as a cult film is more than deserved.

But if the movie is that good at making comedy out of a corporate miasma, then why am I giving it only a B grade? Surely, I could learn to hate work just as much as Peter Gibbons, Michael Bolton, and Samir…whatever his name is, right? As true as that might be, I only laughed a handful of times when I watched this. It could be my tapioca pudding brain malfunctioning on me. But if a comedy only makes me laugh a handful of times, then what’s the point? I did like Michael Bolton’s delivery as a character. I did like the courtroom dream that Peter had. I did like the…actually, I liked the…and wouldn’t you know it, my tapioca pudding brain with electricity inside can’t think of another instance where I let out even a little bit of a chuckle. Maybe my brain is so fried that I only have an appreciation for darker comedy, I don’t know. In any event, I didn’t laugh as often as I should have and that’s going to bring the grade down a notch.

But just because I wasn’t hee-hawing out of my chair, doesn’t mean I didn’t get any enjoyment out of watching this movie. Watching Peter, Michael, and Samir destroy a malfunctioning piece of computer equipment was so satisfying, considering my own Incredible Hulk rage towards such things. Watching Peter find happiness when he started the movie so miserable and out-of-body also made me glow like a light bulb. Listening to the gangster rap soundtrack to subdue Michael Bolton’s unfortunate name? Delicious piece of storytelling. There’s a lot of joy the average audience member can find in this movie. We’ve all had a condescending boss or teacher at some point in our lives. Rebelling against them is a fantasy everyone can enjoy no matter what level of work experience they have. “Level of work experience.” That’s a corporate buzzword if I’ve ever heard one. I’m sure Lumberg’s said that a few times off camera.

While the movie isn’t perfect by any means, it’s still appointment viewing for pretty much anybody who’s had it with corporate authority. Yes, the movie takes place in 1999 and might be a little dated in some places, but when has that ever stopped Mike Judge from predicting the future like he did with Idiocracy? Actually, he was off by 490 years, but hey, details, details. They matter about as much as a fraction of a penny. What does a fraction of a penny have to do with this plot? Watch it and find out. It’ll be yet another piece of anti-corporate satisfaction. I promise you. This movie gets four stars out of five, a B for Bureaucracy, and an 85% save progress bar. Seriously, you stupid computer, hurry up and save the files!

Rusty

VERSE 1

It’s been too long since my last dance

Never gave my tired soul a single chance

To rest and unwind in the easy chair

While complaining that this isn’t fair

Fifteen hundred words sung like birds

The most drunken shit you’ve ever heard

Colored pencils on a blank white canvas

Muscled orcs swinging big fucking axes

CHORUS

Not a problem, it’s just a little rust

Blow the pages into a cloud of dust

Clear the cobwebs from my head

Thank the universe that I’m not dead

VERSE 2

Three days coming, three more going

Ran out of gas, showing signs of slowing

Can’t concentrate worth a good goddamn

Can’t be your Adderall addicted superman

A candle that burned at more than two ends

A streak of sadness growing hard to defend

The lowest of lows and the lowest of blows

Is when everyone cares, but nobody knows

CHORUS

Not a problem, it’s just a little rust

Blow the pages into a cloud of dust

Clear the cobwebs from my head

Thank the universe that I’m not dead

BRIDGE

How much more can I do today?

How many obstacles are in my way?

How many hours must I spend in bed?

To not feel like I’m the walking dead?

VERSE 3

Complaining about it doesn’t feel right

When others have a much bloodier fight

Keep my chin up and ball up my hands

I don’t expect the world to understand

I don’t expect the world to forgive me

For this rusty life that I’m truly living

I don’t expect the world to bow down

I’m tapping out in the final round

CHORUS

Not a problem, it’s just a little rust

Blow the pages into a cloud of dust

Clear the cobwebs from my head

Thank the universe that I’m not dead

The Perks of Being a Zombie

VERSE 1

I once had wild dreams of being a creator

But everyone else was a heel commentator

“Fix computers, scoop ice cream into cones

Do it all for your wallet and future home”

But I resisted every obnoxious voice

The ones in my head gave me no choice

“Listen and conform to everything we say

If you don’t want bleed for the rest of the day”

CHORUS

“Move it! Move it! Get your fat ass in gear!

Let’s go! Let’s go! Before I kick you in the rear!

Faster! Faster! Listen to what’s in your ear!

The perks of being a zombie are always clear!”

VERSE 2

I packed up and went to the indoctrination center

The closest place to hell that I could ever enter

I wouldn’t know it from the numbness in my brain

When it comes to pain, it all feels the same

Psychotic behavior was disguised as laziness

Torment and anguish was disguised as craziness

I never felt so naked in all of my goddamn life

The suicidal tendencies always felt so right

CHORUS

“Move it! Move it! Get your fat ass in gear!

Let’s go! Let’s go! Before I kick you in the rear!

Faster! Faster! Listen to what’s in your ear!

The perks of being a zombie are always clear!”

VERSE 3

I had a Broken Universe before it became cool

My pillow was always soaked in undead drool

My dreams were grayer than the winter shadow

Doing my homework was always such a battle

One day in psychology class, I found the name

Of the force inside me that brought me shame

A condition that I thought was traumatic cinema

Name of my disease was paranoid schizophrenia

ALTERNATIVE CHORUS

I am the master! You are the slave!

Nobody tells me how to behave!

It took a whole decade, but my eyes are wide!

I don’t have to run, I don’t have to hide!

My nights are cozy, my dreams are sweeter!

I’m a positive force and a negative eater!

You call me crazy and I give my thanks!

I’m the captain of the ship, I’m pulling rank!

Rise and Shine

VERSE 1

Rise and shine for your fucked up mind

There’s no more time to relax and unwind

Get your ass out of bed, Mr. Sleepyhead

Rise like a zombie coming back from the dead

CHORUS 1

Rise and shine or your ass is mine!

Rise and shine, don’t fucking whine!

Rise and shine for the dollar signs!

Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!

VERSE 2

Too many stories and not enough glory

A life of snoring is so damn boring

Work your fingers to the powdery bone

Your flesh melts like an ice cream cone

Your blood boils like a river of lava

Your wheels turn as you pen this drama

Do it all again on the very next day

This line of work is where you’ll stay

CHORUS 1

Rise and shine or your ass is mine!

Rise and shine, don’t fucking whine!

Rise and shine for the dollar signs!

Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!

BRIDGE

This lifestyle isn’t just a stepping stone

It’s what you should be calling home

There’s nothing bigger, nothing better

To your own craft, you are a debtor

VERSE 3

Something mysterious is holding you back

Energy and fire is what you fucking lack

You burned yourself out like a dying candle

The daily grind you’ll never be able to handle

Good morning is a hypocritical phrase

When all you want to do is laze in your haze

Stressed out, pissed off, fucked up, get lost

Now you know the deal, time to pay the cost

CHORUS 2

Rise and shine? Go fuck yourself!

Rise and shine? Go straight to hell!

Rise and shine? No goddamn chance!

Find another partner for your puppet dance!

Laziness

***LAZINESS***

I’ve beaten this dead horse so many times that it’s nothing more than shredded flesh and bone powder. I wouldn’t blame any of my readers if they suddenly got tired of hearing about it. But if I don’t write about the topic of laziness for the hundredth time, I feel like this will be a missed opportunity. There seems to be an updated version of this song and dance every time I write about it. So here it goes.

As of today, I don’t have a whole lot going on in my life. I haven’t lifted heavy furniture or done any strenuous chores around the house for weeks now. I still don’t have a high demand for book sales. I wanted to apply for a job with What Culture, but I didn’t think I could make the cut since I’m not as knowledgeable about pop culture as the admins. I’ve been on the job application sending circuit in the past and not one boss said yes to me. The WSS and my Deviant Art page have both been slowly declining in activity since old friends are falling off the face of the earth.

So I guess it stands to reason that I have all of this time in the world to work on my creative output and boost my self-employed career as an author. I can keep putting out chapters of novels, short stories, and heavy metal lyrics in hopes that one day, just one day someone will see them and help spread my message like a virus. That’s pretty much what being an indie author is all about: hoping that the right people will see you and want to invest their time and money in you. It’s like fishing in the sense that the right lure will catch the biggest and tastiest fish.

But here’s the thing. Yes, I do have lots of free time on my hands now that my schedule is clearing up quickly. However, most of my free time has been replaced with zombie walking. In other words, I pace around the house, lay in bed, or surf the internet hoping that my motivation will come back to me. The motivation has always been there, but every time it’s time to read, write, or edit, there’s this sensation in my brain that keeps me down. It’s a combination of sensitivity and numbness (for lack of a better description) and it robs me of the energy and willpower to get any creative work done.

I thought this problem was long behind me. I’m using my CPAP every night, I’m eating less and losing weight because of it, I haven’t had a schizophrenic attack in forever, and life is comfortable in this cozy town of Port Orchard. So where exactly is this mysterious brain sensation coming from? Self-doubt? Possible depression? Dare I say, the gray weather? The outside world’s influence? Aging?

That last item is important because when I was in my teens and 20’s, I used to get shit done on a regular basis. When I worked on a novel, I wrote a chapter a day with the longest paragraphs. When I had a college assignment, I worked relentlessly on it until it was done and turned in on time. When I had my volunteer jobs here and there, I worked my ass off and made my supervisors happier than the Pillsbury Doughboy being frisked by the TSA.

So what changed? How did I go from writing a chapter or short story per day to barely getting anything in at all? Am I really feeling like an old man at 31 years old? Is my obesity really that much of an influence? Keep in mind that in my teens and 20’s, I was skinnier and drank a lot of caffeinated energy drinks. I’ve since shot back up to 300 lbs. and I can’t drink Red Bulls anymore because they make my heart race. Maybe there’s also something about not having a routine schedule that makes me sluggish. Maybe I have to have work in order to do work.

I don’t claim to have all of the answers to my own dilemma, but I’d like at least some idea of what’s going on. I’ve read articles on procrastination and boredom and they’ve suggested that irregular sleep cycles, lack of exercise, and too much caffeine were among the reasons for that. Those seem like easy problems to rectify, but you have to remember that sleeping late, eating fast food, and drinking caffeine are all addictive behaviors. It’s just another way for my own brain to fuck with me. Thanks, brain.

Laying around and walking like a zombie might seem like paradise to someone with an overworked schedule. But make no mistake about it: there’s nothing glorious about feeling sluggish. There’s nothing normal about not being able to do what you love because of a technicality in your own fucked up mind. I repeat: a technicality, with many loose explanations, but no concrete answers. I see people brag about how hard they work and it hurts that I can’t put in as much firepower as them, all because…of a technicality in my goddamn brain. It’s a technicality that seldom existed in my younger years and little has changed now that I’m a 31-year-old.

If I could put out creative project after creative project 24/7 for the rest of my life, trust me, I would. I love writing. I love reading. I love editing. I even love my drawings and photography even though they’re not my main products. Common sense dictates that doing these things more often than I do would increase my happiness and fulfill my hardworking nature. So why am I not doing them? Because of a technicality, that’s why.

By this time in the blog entry, the dead horse is beyond necromancy. Not even Papa Shango’s silly magic from 1992 WWE television will be enough to animate this horse’s dead body. It used to be that every time I talk about this subject, the next day would result in a cornucopia of creativity. Maybe that’s what will happen tomorrow, maybe not. I don’t know anymore. It’d be nice to have some solid answers, but who do I look like, Dick Tracy?

***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Go ahead, Miz, go do what you do best! Whatever it is, it sure as hell isn’t wrestling!”

-Daniel Bryan-

Anti-Millennial Bigotry

***ANTI-MILLENNIAL BIGOTRY***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***JOKE OF THE DAY***

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

A: Minimum rage.

Self-Pressure

***SELF-PRESSURE***

Dr. Phil McGraw may be full of shit most of the time, but he at least has one thing right: the words we tell ourselves are so powerful that we blindly believe them. If you’re sending yourself negative messages, you’re going to feel sad and angry. If you’re sending yourself positive messages, your self-esteem will be a lot higher.

The same thing goes for the kind of pressure we put on ourselves in order to be successful. Some people do well under such pressure, others crack. When you’re putting the weight of the world on your shoulders, successes and failures become that much more amplified in the way they feel emotionally. But sometimes we put so much pressure on ourselves that no amount of success will satisfy us.

As artists, being unsatisfied with success is a way of life for us. We don’t like to rest on our laurels and that’s a good thing. The creative urge takes over and we continually make more and more pieces of art. But what about our “off” days? What happens when circumstances prevent us from doing our best or doing anything at all? Then the pressure we put on ourselves gives way to negativity and we feel awful about that day. It doesn’t matter what those circumstances are, because in our minds, there are no excuses.

Athletes feel this way all the time since they’re constantly put in pressure cooker situations. In his second match in the UFC, Conor McGregor put on a martial arts clinic against fellow upstart Max Holloway. Although Conor won the match by unanimous decision, he was pissed off with himself because he wanted to win either by knockout or submission. He doesn’t even care how good the match was; he still wanted to win convincingly instead of leaving things in the judges’ hands. He put the weight of the world on his shoulders and it crushed him.

I also put a lot of pressure on myself as many of you know by now. Some days, I’m a working stiff who can put out a short story, a blog entry, a WWE match review, and a drawing all in one day well still being able to read 30 pages of whatever novel I’m on. On those days, I feel high as a kite and nothing can take my big ass down. And then there are those “off” days where I get either so little done or nothing at all done. At the end of those days, I feel empty inside and it’s an awful feeling. Hell, there have been days when I wrote a short story for the WSS and it was the best damn thing I’ve written so far. Yet, I still feel like shit because I don’t feel like it’s enough.

My reasons for putting this much pressure on myself are simple. I’m unemployed and have no social life, which means I have all the time in the world to work on my creative projects. There are people out there who are employed fulltime and go to work anyways even during their “off” days. I feel like I have to constantly prove to myself that I’m just as hardworking as those who have jobs as pay taxes. I don’t know why, but I constantly do. When I go through just one day, one single day, of lazing around, the pressure I put on myself turns me into coal dust instead of a diamond in the rough.

Is self-pressure a good motivator or is it just a way to make people feel like shit? It all depends on how well you work under pressure. Some people achieve great things when the weight of the world is crashing down on them. Some people don’t and they panic easily. Because I’m an autistic schizophrenic introvert, I have increased sensitivity to all stimuli, including the kind I inflict on myself. When the pressure caves down on me, I feel horrible. So maybe it’s a good idea for me to ease some of the self-pressure and be a happy guy no matter what happens.

Anybody can miss one day of creative work. And when you do force yourself to work under extreme conditions, you don’t always put out the best product possible. If anything, these one day breaks of mine are ways to recover mentally so that when I’m ready, I can put out 110% effort and give an A+ performance. Teachers always advise students to get good nutrition and have a regular exercise routine. You know why? Because teachers want their students to have as many “on” days as possible and the only way to do that is by being healthy and getting enough sleep.

So what do you guys think of all of this? Do you put an overwhelming amount of pressure on yourselves as well? If so, do you become a diamond or coal dust? Do you believe alleviating some of this pressure will help you? We’ve got ears, say cheers!

　

***MUSIC DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

“Some may call it a curse, a life like mine. But others, a blessing. It’s certainly a lonely life, but a fulfilling one and the best. It’s my cross to bear and I’ll bear it gladly. Someone has to take a stand against evil. Why should it not be me?”

-Mother Maiden from the Within Temptation song “Why Not Me?”-

Adrenaline Dump

***ADRENALINE DUMP***

As of today, I only have seven more stories to write before I hit number 50 for Poison Tongue Tales. This past Saturday I wrote one called “Born to Die” and the day after I wrote “Minnie-Moo”. In between chapters, I’ve been writing jokes for Face Book and drawing pictures for my Dark Fantasy Warriors collection. And then on Monday…I took the world’s longest nap in my parents’ bed with Sitka snuggling beside me…before watching WWE Raw later that night. Monday was considered a lazy day, to say the least. Today, I’m trying to keep the work rate going with this journal and maybe some paperback reading.

In the UFC, there are times during a match when a fighter will unleash an exciting fury of offense for the first round and be completely drained for the next two rounds (or four if it’s a main event or championship fight). Commentators Joe Rogan and Mike Goldberg will refer to that as an “adrenaline dump”, and no, it has nothing to do with taking a powerful shit. After reading my work schedule in the first paragraph of this journal, do you see how that UFC analogy is appropriate? I work on my creative projects throughout the past few days, do a shit ton of work on Sunday, and then pass out with Sitka on Monday.

This is not the first time I’ve experienced an adrenaline dump. Then again, I bet there are some writers out there who go through the same thing. I played the word game TPBM (The Person Below Me) on the WSS Contest and Company’s forum and made a post asking if the next person experiences downpours of adrenaline. The next person indeed said yes. That’s one other person. But as you all know, the reason I post these journals is to pose questions to my audience, this one being obvious by now.

Actually, the real reason I’m writing this journal is to keep with the tradition of NaNoWriMo as an excuse to write every day since yesterday I technically broke that tradition by falling asleep with Sitka. I’m pretty sure most people will answer “yes” to the adrenaline dump question since we’re all human and nobody here is a 24/7 worker. If you were a 24/7 worker, you’d probably be dead from stress.

We all need to take time to relax and be alone. We don’t always get that time, so when you do, take advantage of it and stretch it out for as long as possible. Taking a break every once and a while isn’t a sign of laziness. A battery cannot generate electricity if it’s not fully charged. The human mind and body cannot compose an opera, paint a painting, or write a novel if that’s all they’re doing with their lives.

I make this point all the time because the word “lazy” is thrown around a lot these days, often unnecessarily and always unfairly. We hear that word all the time in political debates, especially since a year from now we’re going to have a new president. Welfare, food stamp, and social security recipients are unfairly categorized as being lazy by people who don’t know nor care about the recipients’ circumstances. Millennials are stereotyped as being lazy because of their love of technology and their desires to chase their dreams instead of being stuck behind a desk all day. Minorities of all kinds are stereotyped as lazy because they have a harder time getting hired by mostly white employers.

As humans, we’re all capable of working hard and engaging the world in doing so. It’s not just limited to certain age, economic, or racial groups. What separates us isn’t our “laziness”, but our desires. We do work hard, but on other projects that are more important to us than others. Some people want to cure AIDS. Some people want to fight terrorists overseas. Some people want to write novels. Some people want to sing to an audience. The moment we criticize each other for our desires is when hatred spreads like the virus it is. Nationalism doesn’t work. Conformity of any kind doesn’t work, because instead of teaching teamwork, it teaches resentment and bitterness.

I’ve never had the chance or the words to make those statements about false laziness before. I keep wanting to say them, but those opportunities come only after I’ve seen a Face Book meme criticizing one group of people for “taking handouts”. I don’t want to speak about this passionate topic when I’m angry at someone’s ignorance. I want to speak about it when I’m calm, cool, and collected and that time couldn’t have come any earlier than tonight.

So thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for listening to me bear my soul under the guise of a blog entry about adrenaline dumps. Let’s keep the L word out of our political debates and only use it when the situation actually warrants it. Learn the circumstances of the one you’re throwing that word against before it comes out of your mouth. The more you get to know someone, the less likely you are to cast judgment. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

　

***READING***

It’s been days since I’ve read and reviewed Marie Krepps’ “Love Me Today, Kill Me Tomorrow” as well as Michael Schofield’s “January First”. How many days, I’ve lost track. It’s time for a new book and that new book is called “A Street Cat Named Bob” by James Bowen. I browsed Barnes & Noble for anything that looked interesting and found this book. The front cover features an orange-yellow kitty who looks a little bit like Nacho. Naturally, I had to buy that book.

And, uh…I also paid for copies of Marie Krepps’ books “Box of Chocolates” and “Spunky and the Wizard’s Chair” (written as Ashley Uzzell). Marie is probably going to read that last line and curse me for spending that much money on her books. But the truth is, she’s been so good to me in giving me LuNacho advice, encouraging me to participate in NaNoWriMo, and critiquing my Poison Tongue Tales. Putting a little extra money in Marie’s pocket is my way of thanking her for this year of friendship she has given me. I will always look back on 2015 as the year of Marie Krepps aka Ashley Uzzell. And that thought brings a smile to my face and a tear to my eye! ^_^

　

***POISON TONGUE TALES***

Tomorrow I plan on getting back to my PTT writing schedule. No naps with Sitka, no new age music with Smokey, just straight up hard work. Tomorrow’s short story will be for the WSS while the day after’s short story will be done independently. Here are the synopses for both of them:

　

***STONE COLD (WSS)***

　

CHARACTERS:

　

Brutus Warpath, Human Barbarian
Zod Ragefist, Warthog Sorcerer
Domino Gunn, Human Dark Paladin

　

PROMPT CONFORMITY: Brutus has been on a “wild goose chase” for Zod and Domino for months on end.

　

SYNOPSIS: Brutus has spent months searching for Zod and Domino, the two warriors who slew his wife. As more time passes, Brutus gets angrier and angrier and is more likely to do what Zod says he‘ll do: “give into the evil”. Giving into sadistic tendencies will only make Brutus evil enough to be controlled by Zod’s dark magic. When Brutus finally locates Zod and Domino inside their dragon corpse hideout, he has a decision to make: be just as sick and twisted as Zod wants him to be and violently rape Domino or find a way to make peace with the past.

　

***ZOMBIE (INDEPENDENT)***

　

CHARACTERS:

　

Gail Reinhold, Paladin
Mattie Dent, Drugged Out Mercenary

　

PROMPT CONFORMITY: None.

　

SYNOPSIS: In this urban fantasy tale, Gail’s church runs a drug rehabilitation facility in their basement, where holy magic and self-belief keep patients from staying there forever. Gail bites off more than she can chew when she takes in Mattie Dent, a space mercenary who overdosed on combat drugs and is now behaving like an enraged zombie. Despite Mattie’s homicidal disposition and lengthy criminal history, Gail, being the stalwart paladin that she is, refuses to give up on her.

　

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Up next on the chopping block is Psymon Nordonus, the vigilante hacker from Poison Tongue Tale “Nail Bomb”. Before writing that short story, I used this character in my videogame idea Final Fantasy Hardcore. He was a hacker in that story too, but he also used a steel chain as a whip when getting into hand-to-hand combat. For reference pictures, I’m going to need a good one of a guy in a hoodie, hopefully one that adds to Psymon’s mysterious ways. I’m sure Google will come through for me like it always has.

　

***TELEVISION QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Y’all don’t know whether to scratch your watch or wind your ass.”

-Todd from “Chrisley Knows Best”-