Fred Durst from Limp Bizkit

 

Comedic Obligations

***COMEDIC OBLIGATIONS***

When you’re a writer and you feel obligated to include certain elements in your story, you can often find yourself not knowing what the hell you’re doing. For example, there’re a lot of TV shows, movies, and books out there that have shoehorned romances, so you feel like in order to stand a chance of being above average, you too have to have a romance despite not having the necessary experience or interest. The same thing is true with comedy. Although George Carlin remains one of my strongest comedic influences, not even his material is capable of making me into a carbon copy of him, which he wouldn’t want anyways because of his strong individuality. I can be funny sometimes, but when I feel obligated to make a joke in my stories, the writing suffers badly and I have to go through yet another round of editing. Tonight I’m counting down the three cringiest examples of jokes or cleverness gone badly in my stories. Why three? Because that’s three cringes too many.

I should go ahead and say that all three major examples come from Poison Tongue Tales, the first drafts at least. You won’t find the jokes there now, thank god. Let’s begin with the major money line from Stone Cold, a short story within that tome about a barbarian (surprise, surprise, surprise) who wants revenge on a warthog sorcerer and a female dark paladin for killing his wife. The barbarian wins the battle, but not without feeling like his heart is going to explode and a vein in his brain is going to pop like a balloon. While the female dark paladin is laying on the ground on her way to the afterlife, the barbarian leans down and says to her in a sexy voice…”Maybe I’ll get some practice on you before I meet my wife in heaven.” Practice doing what, you say? Well, if you can’t figure that out, I’m not going to tell you. Either way, you should be appalled at that, which is why that line no longer occupies my story.

And then the other two examples come from the same story within PTT. That story is called Streetwalker and that title alone should already have you feeling anxiety bubble up in the pit of your stomach. The main villain, another barbarian (what a goddamn shock), wants to buy the services of a wizard prostitute to celebrate a major victory in battle. The prostitute turns him down, so instead of paying the full price, he tries to get it for free by attempting to rape her. Being that she’s a wizard and that she’s using her prostitution money to fund her magical education, the hooker throws every kind of elemental spell at the barbarian’s way. Fireballs, lightning bolts, poison bubbles, shadow spears, glacial spikes, you name it, she’s throwing it. She thinks she’s won the fight, but the spells have absolutely no effect on the barbarian. So what does the would-be rapist say? He says…”In order to cast the spells properly…you need the world’s biggest magic wand!” In the words of my beautiful beta reader Marie Krepps, “Why doesn’t he just shoot her already? I’d rather get raped than listen to another one of his bad jokes.” You and me both, Babe-a-Licious Mondo. You and me both.

That Emmy Award-winning zinger should have been the end of it for Streetwalker, but it wasn’t. Instead the audience was treated to yet another “clever” piece of writing. It wasn’t really a joke nor was it intended to be misogynistic. It was just my obligations creeping through yet again. So what happens in Streetwalker (SPOILER ALERT) is that the barbarian has his way with the prostitute and leaves her bloody and bruised in a dark alleyway. Yes, she managed to knock is money bag loose (his actual money bag, not his testicles, you fools!), but even with all of that gold at her disposal, she still feels guilty for “allowing herself” to be raped in the first place. As part of this self-imposed guilt trip, I, the narrator, describe her ordeal as…(gulp)…I’m not sure if I should say this, but I’m going to if it means proving my point…the prostitute’s rape was…”a permanent part of her resume”. I can hear the dry heaves coming from miles away. Absolutely barferrific. No call for that. It got so bad that when Marie was writing her critique notes, she said, “Let’s keep this between you and me.” I couldn’t agree more, but here it is out in the open.

I didn’t count down those three examples because I wanted a laugh track to magically appear in my room. I counted them down because I wanted to be free from my obligations of putting comedy and/or clever lines in my writing. Yes, comedy is nice every once and a while, but only when done by a true master. Whenever I get into a heated argument with someone, my brain shuts down, so I can’t quickly access a savage one-liner to defeat my opponent. Why should I expect the same thing from my characters? Because Hollywood told me to do it? Because they do it so well in the WWE (which I still don’t watch anymore)? Why can’t two people just have a passionate conversation full of vitriol and curse words? Why does everything have to be funny all the time?

Now that I think about it, the funnier a movie or book tries to be, the more it comes off as bathos to an otherwise emotional moment. Bathos is defined as a descent from emotional highs and it’s usually achieved through comedy. Marvel movies have been accused of doing this a lot, especially with anything featuring Iron Man and his actor Robert Downey, Jr. When you rob your audience of an emotional high, you’re stealing a major part of the movie-watching experience. I don’t know about the rest of you, but when I get hit in the feels, I don’t want my attacker to use kid gloves. That’s why I like books like The Perks of Being a Wallflower and The Savior’s Champion. Sure, they have witty dialogue peppered here and there, but it doesn’t diminish the dramatic action of their respective stories.

I have not yet mastered the balance between (good) comedy and punches to the feels. I’ve been an amateur/professional author since 2001 and I still can’t do it. Is this something I should work on or should I abandon it altogether? Is comedy really that important or should I emancipate myself from the chains of obligation? See? Even that last line sounded too over-the-top to be considered comedic gold. I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like laughing at bad jokes, keep climbing the mountain!

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***

Chapter seven of this ongoing rewrite is edging towards the horizon. Windham managed to free himself from the shackles and now he needs to not only escape Shelly’s castle, but beforehand has to draw blueprints from the inside and collect a handsome payday from Shadow Asylum. Can he keep his emotions in check long enough to not spoil his escape? Can he watch one of his own being sold to a paying aristocrat without snapping again? Whatever the case may be, I’m free from the chains of comedic obligations, so there won’t be any jokes about Nickelodeon Slime Cannons or some shit like that (some of Shelly’s sex slaves are teenagers).

***JOKE OF THE DAY***

If Fred Durst started his own airline company, would he call it Air Bizkit? It makes me worry about the cabbage and broccoli platters he’d serve to the coach passengers. At least they wouldn’t have to worry about the plane running out of fuel, although the weather would always be cloudy up there.

***POST-SCRIPT***

Okay, so I’m not completely emancipated.

"Outro" by Limp Bizkit

“I’m here to tell you why the new Limp Bizkit album is so important. That’s because CD’s like this one spare you from all the chart-topping, teeny-bopping, disposable happy horseshit that brings up the bile from the back of my neck. I have no time or tolerance for those shitty whack acts like that. I wouldn’t piss on their CD’s to put out a fire.”

If you’re fortunate enough to own the Significant Other album by Limp Bizkit, you know about this gem of a rant at the end the CD by Matt Pinfield. In his words, we need some rock and we need something that has balls. Now, just imagine for a minute if you were an author and somebody gave you the kind of praise that Matt Pinfield gave to Limp Bizkit. Wouldn’t you like to be known as an author who spares people from disposable happy horseshit? I’d jump at the opportunity in a heartbeat.

But that can’t always happen. After all, authors aren’t known for being as aggressive as heavy metal bands when it comes to their craft. Let’s take Stephen King for instance. Everybody knows how brutal he can be when he puts his mind to it. He’s even brutal in his criticism of Twilight by Stephanie Meyer. But you have to admit that Stephen King’s aggression and Fred Durst’s aggression are two very different things. Authors have a quiet rage that settles down once pen is put to paper. Musicians and singers? They just scream it out until they’re mentally and physically exhausted.

When it comes to my writing, I will admit to being just as laidback and mellow as any other author. Yes, I can get down and dirty with the best of them, but there’s a reason why I’m not on stage right now strumming the hell out of an electric guitar. Aside from the obvious reason that I can’t play guitar, I don’t have the kind of aggression it takes to be in a metal band. I hardly even like it when I go to a concert and some rowdy asshole is yelling in the most obnoxious tone possible.

However, if you’re a literary critic and you feel like giving my e-books Matt Pinfield-style praise, I wouldn’t be against it. In fact, I would be grinning for the rest of my life. Deus Shadowheart and Dr. Scott Cain already have reputations of being literary badasses, even when their new home (Fireball Nightmare) is still under construction. If Deus heard that he spared people from disposable happy horseshit even during his most emotional moments, he would scream like the heavy metal freak he was meant to be.

Readers and heavy metal fans are two different groups of people. And yet, I represent both sides of the fence. I just might…you know…bring them together! Actually, no, I won’t. Alice Cooper, Max Cavalera, and Rex Brown have already done that with their published memoirs. Phil Anselmo will do it too once his book comes out in 2015. I’m not much of a fearless leader, but if Phil Anselmo and Max Cavalera bring me to the promised land, I will follow them every step of the way. Same thing goes for Fred Durst and Matt Pinfield.

　

***INTERNET DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

JAY HOWARD: Now come on, own up. Who really wrote “Sitka the Nose Biter”?

ME: I did, Jay-Pie.

JAY HOWARD: No blood and gore, explosions, or shootings? Not even poison? What happened to you while I was gone?!

The No Nookie Clause

Whenever you read a book or watch TV and see two characters who would be perfect romantically, the natural response is to swoon at them and pair them together. While they would make an awesome power couple, there’s an unwritten rule in place called “The No Nookie Clause”. This rule implies that there’s some invisible force keeping these two people from ever coming together. This invisible force could be anything from family ties to workplace rules to even crippling shyness. The No Nookie Clause was implemented recently in episodes of NCIS: Los Angeles. In the season opener, Marty Deeks confesses to Kensi Blye that the only thing that got him through his traumatic torture experience with the drill in his mouth was picturing Kensi’s lovely features and positive aura. A few episodes later, they finally make their longtime-coming relationship official. And during that same episode, Kensi Blye is magically transported overseas for a mission that requires indefinite support while Marty Deeks stays in Los Angeles with day-to-day NCIS operations. Neither Hetty Lange nor Owen Granger, the two authority figures, will fess up to bringing the hammer down using the No Nookie Clause, but it’s heavily implied that they did. If you didn’t already have a reason to question nookie banning from the workplace, you have it now. It’s a heartbreaking situation that didn’t need to happen. If two people love each other, let them be together. It’s as simple as that. With workplace nookie, authority figures like to argue that emotional attachment will screw up their job performance. While it may seem awkward after the eventual breakup, it’s still not right to send your workers home to crysterbate at 11:00 at night over all of this. Everybody needs love and it should matter not where it comes from, unless of course said lover was a minor or married, then it would be problematic. But the last time I checked, Deeks and Kensi were not teenagers and neither of them had rings on their fingers. After reading this blog entry, you’re probably wondering why I would write so passionately about a subject such as fictional romance and why I would repeatedly use the word nookie. The latter of the two questions is easy: I’m a Limp Bizkit fan. That’s all that needs to be said. The former is not quite as easy to explain. At my age, I’m supposed to have enough emotional maturity to not fuss over fictional romance. I want you all to know that I’m not fussing. This NCIS: Los Angeles case study is something all writers can use. If you have two characters who need pairing, make it so. You can tiptoe around it if you want in order to build suspense, but if it seems natural, do it. It worked between Jasmine (rich princess) and Aladdin (homeless vagrant), so that’s saying something.

　

***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

CLARK GABLE: Are you pissed off that your boyfriend lied to you?

LISA: No, I’m happy about it!

-Cheaters-

Magnum Opuses

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

　

***MY FIRST SALE***

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

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

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

-Korn singing “Earache”-