Garrison Kelly vs. The Military a.k.a. the Cult That Nobody Should Be Pressured to Join

 

Captain Evil

***CAPTAIN EVIL***

More often than not, when I’m writing a blog entry like this one, I like to joke about how nobody would take a villain named Captain Evil seriously. Who is Captain Evil? He’s my punch line for any villain who is evil for the sake of being evil. No motivations, no ambitions, no personality, just evil, evil, evil. Stomping on kittens, blowing up buildings, shooting up schools, all for the sake of being a massive dick. Do villains like these exist? Of course they do, but they’re mostly in golden age videogames and children’s cartoons.

If Bowser from the Mario Brothers franchise was renamed Captain Evil, nobody would even notice. He too has a one-track mind with not much dimension to him. Kidnapping Princess Peach seems to be his only motivation in life. But what does he do with her? Is he in love with her? Does it turn out at long last that Bowser is a horny incel? And if he’s really this big ass turtle warrior with a spiked shell and fiery breath, how come he has incompetent minions do his bidding for him? I know the early Mario games weren’t intended for deep thinking, but when you’re writing your own story, you really have no choice but to question a lot of these Captain Evil tropes.

But enough about Bowser and his two dimensions (both in terms of sprite graphics and character development). What about an actual person named Captain Evil? Is it really possible to redeem such a character? His name already gives off vibes of being a villain, much like the name Sweet Pea would lead you to believe she’s a protagonist. But what’s in a name? Does it say Captain Evil on his driver’s license? What if it’s just a catchy nickname? What if the guy who uses that name isn’t really evil, but just a really tough son of a bitch?

What if Captain Evil was the name of a military drill instructor who screamed at his privates all the time? Feel free to take that however you want. What if Captain Evil was a mixed-martial artist with an aggressive fighting style? What if Captain Evil was an actual supervillain? Could he still have multiple layers in his character development? Sure, he can! Maybe he doesn’t see being evil as a bad thing. Maybe he admits he’s evil and just doesn’t give a shit. Maybe it’s the world around him who gave him this label and he’s just rolling with it.

But the thing about multi-layered villains as that they don’t actually believe they’re the bad guy in their story. In fact, nobody in this world sees themselves as a villain despite the fact that they might do shitty things from time to time. Everybody has an original point of view, everybody has their own version of right and wrong, and our differences clash often. So even a guy with the name Captain Evil couldn’t see himself as a true villain if he has any chance at being multi-layered.

If you must make Captain Evil sympathetic, do it in a way that doesn’t involve a troubled past that leads nowhere. It’s a tired trope that only matters if executed correctly. If Captain Evil’s parents were killed, it has to lead to somewhere. If Captain Evil was bullied in school, it has to figure into the story somehow. If you’re just piling on problems for the sake of making a villain into a victim, you’re not doing yourself or your character any favors.

I know how ironic it seems to hear me say that since I too struggle with creating sympathetic characters. Then again, these days I struggle with every aspect of the writing game, whether it’s realistic dialogue, showing vs. telling, and of course, creating three-dimensional characters. I’ve been writing since 2002 and I still get it wrong from time to time. It’s almost as though I need someone to hold my hand for me as I cross the street. Although all first drafts by their very nature suck ass, some suck more than others. Some first drafts have an incomplete version of Captain Evil lurking in the background. I know a lot of mine do.

I’m not recommending you actually create a character named Captain Evil, unless of course it’s a challenge you want to undertake. If you like challenges and you like creating chicken salad out of chicken shit, then by all means, go for it. Some people thrive with minimal creative fuel. Some people need more to go by. As for myself, if I ever decide to create my own version of Captain Evil, I’m going to need all the help I can get from beta readers, editors, and Author Tubers with funny and helpful videos (I’m looking at you, Jenna Moreci).

Wait a minute…did I just namedrop Jenna Moreci? In a blog about Captain Evil? Her debut novel “Eve: the Awakening” has a character in it named Captain Ramsey. He was a former Navy Captain who now teaches combat classes at Billington University. He’s tough-minded, he’s hardcore, he’s a no-bullshit kind of guy. He doesn’t accept mediocrity from any of his students, least of all chimeras. Could he accept the nickname Captain Evil even though he’s technically one of the good guys? If we’re going by his no-bullshit attitude alone, then yes, I can see him earning that moniker. And wouldn’t you know it? He’s three-dimensional too!

If Jenna Moreci can successfully create Captain Evil, you can too and so can I! Let’s create an army of Captain Evils together! We’ve got this! No challenge is too big for us! I’m Garrison Kelly! Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight! Anyone who can guess where my new sign-off phrase comes from gets a free cookie. It’ll be a digital cookie, but it’ll have chocolate chips nonetheless. Or if you’re an Oreo guy, you can have that too.

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***

I’m looking at all the time stamps in which I completed these twenty-four chapters so far and holy shit, are they spaced out. Twenty-four chapters so far with three remaining on deck. I didn’t begin rewriting Beautiful Monster until late November last year. That means it took me over half a year to rewrite a novel that normally takes me two months at most. I don’t like to beat myself up over little shit, but goddamn, that’s got to be the longest I’ve ever spent on a WIP. Then again, I’ve also had quite a few creative and real life projects on my plate in lieu of Beautiful Monster. My Jack and the Beanstalk parody Emilio & Marigold dominated a good portion of my year. So did reading the shortest books in my library and reviewing them all. So did writing short stories and poems for the WSS on Good Reads. I can’t blame it all on psychological torpor, but since Impostor Syndrome is a bitch….Anyways, I wrote chapter twenty-four earlier today, so I’m a happy motherfucker. Windham finally swears! Yay! And I’m not just talking about damn and hell either. He dropped an F-bomb on Shelly like it was an actual nuclear warhead. You want to know what he said to her? “FUCK LOVE!” Speaking of which…

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Binary lie never scratch it on my skin. But you’d loved to see the mark just to fill the blackness in. I know what you are. You’re the last thing I see as my lungs fill. I’ll be goddamned if you didn’t love the sin while you offer up advice just to keep your secrets in. I know what you are. You’re the last breath I breathe as my lungs fill. Fuck love! It only goes away. There’s no goddamn good in this goodbye you made me say. Don’t love ever again. Fuck love! Your promise was in vain. There’s no goddamn good in this goodbye you made me say. Don’t love ever again. Counting all the days that deception was the game. I lived every day just to keep my promises. I can’t hide the scar. Now my last breath is yours and my lungs fill. Didn’t see the snake that was signaling the change. I’ll be damned for my sleep but still I hold you to blame. Still hold you to. Fuck love!”

-All That Remains singing “Fuck Love”-

***POST-SCRIPT***

Do any All That Remains fans out there get the feeling that “Fuck Love” was written about Oli Herbert’s relationship with his wife before he died? I don’t want to peddle conspiracy theories, but…

Gary-Stu

I spent a hundred years in the navy

The sexy siren is carrying my baby

I spent five decades in the marines

They all call me a fighting machine

I spent half a century in the army

No way could the enemy harm me

I spent ten years in the air force

I still don’t make sense, of course

I’m a Gary-Stu who’s lost at sea

Always carry machineguns with me

A battleaxe bigger than my body

Always imitated, but never copied

Except by those trying to make a buck

Make a fortune from negative luck

Put me in a videogame or paperback

I’m a macho man, genetically jacked

Everybody wants to buy my image

Everybody wants to laugh at critics

Everybody wants to look for tropes

Everybody’s given too much rope

Whatever happened to character depth?

Got slaughtered in a battle to the death

Everybody’s got their own little flaws

They don’t include too much brawn

They don’t include a nasty attitude

They don’t include a lazy aptitude

Three dimensional isn’t hard to achieve

All you have to do is make them believe

If a captain is going to be lost at sea

If a warrior is going to bleed, bleed, bleed

If a damsel in distress screams one last time

Put some reason in your fucked up rhyme

Fire and Fury

Ronis Wakizashi chewed his breakfast steak and savored every juicy bite before the heavenly meal slid down his throat. It had been a while since he’d eaten at The Buffalo Brunch. Catching his latest criminal called for a celebration: tender sirloin steak, fluffy scrambled eggs, butter-drenched English muffins, and crispy hash browns. Ronis ate his meal without regard for the contents tangling into his scraggly beard or splattering on his bulletproof vest and blue jeans. He even managed to get a bite of scrambled egg on his cowboy hat, which took some serious talent.

His beautiful breakfast was interrupted at the sounds of heavy breathing from across the restaurant. Among all the patrons, the female navy sailor with the jittery hands and splashing coffee cup got his attention. Her breathing patterns included some slight squeaks. Ronis stared at her for a while then shook his head in annoyance before digging right back into his breakfast.

The sailor’s breathing deepened as tears flowed from her eyes ever so lightly. Ronis slammed his fork down on his plate and gave her another annoyed look, but she was too pumped on nervous adrenaline to notice. Even the waitress had to ask the sailor five or six times whether she wanted a refill on her coffee before she snapped out of her trance and said yes.

Ronis watched as the waitress poured coffee into the sailor’s mug. The navy soldier finally snapped when a splash of coffee burned her fingers. She shot up and let out a lengthy blood-curdling scream while shaking the burn out of her hand. The waitress apologized relentlessly and scanned the restaurant for other patrons staring at her, to which she gave them an awkward smile.

The sailor pulled a knife from her belt and wrapped one arm around the waitress’s throat. When the hostess screamed, the navy soldier snapped, “Shut up! Shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch! If I hear so much as a pin drop in this fucking place, I’ll carve your ass up from ear to ear!”

The waitress’s wailing was reduced to childish whimpering and a stream of heavy tears. Everybody stared at the knife-wielder, including Ronis, who kept a steady grip on his shotgun underneath the table. The Sheriff even had the nerve to keep eating his breakfast, gnashing a piece of English muffin with those smelly teeth of his.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing, old man?!” screamed the sailor. “Breakfast is over! Now you all are going to listen to me before I slash this bitch’s throat!”

“I don’t think so, you stupid whore,” said Ronis with a scarily calm demeanor. He stood right up and pointed his shotgun at the sailor, who proceeded to press her blade tightly against the sobbing waitress’s throat. “Put the knife down, navy chick. You’re not going to win this fight. I’m the one with the shotgun and all you have is a little tinker toy. Are you ready to give up or do I have to splatter your brains all over the table?”

“You want to shoot me?” the sailor stammered. “You want to kill my ass? Go ahead! Anything’s better than living with this shit inside my brain! You’d be doing me a favor!”

“Alright, I get it,” said Ronis halfheartedly. “You’re a soldier who saw a whole bunch of nasty stuff overseas and now you can’t get it out of your mind. Hell, if I went through half of what you guys go through every day, I’d be messed up in the head too. Put you’ve got to put the knife down. Carving up that sweet thing isn’t going to give you relief.”

“No, it won’t,” admitted the sailor in a somewhat calmer voice. “But it’ll make people listen. You know why people like to show up at political rallies with cardboard signs? Because they want to be heard. And now I want to be heard too. If I didn’t have this knife in my hands, you’d be sitting there finishing your goddamn breakfast.”

“You got my attention, princess,” said Ronis. “Now tell me what you want. I ain’t got all day. You’re right: I do want to eat my breakfast, so make it quick.”

“Please!” begged the waitress through horrified tears. “Don’t make her angry! Just give her what she wants so that we can all go home!”

“Shut the fuck up, you skinny bitch, this ain’t any of your goddamn business!” Ronis shouted. He returned his attention to the traumatized sailor and said, “Now, you have the floor. Say something and say it fast. Otherwise, my trigger finger’s going to get really itchy. Are we clear?” No response. “Do you want a microphone and a stage or what? Talk, damn it!”

“You want me to talk?” asked the sailor. “Fine, let’s talk. After all, if I don’t say anything, I’ll just be another statistic on a government chart. I’ll just be another homeless bum on the streets who can’t find a goddamn job. Yeah, you think you know what I’m going through? Of course you don’t. You can sleep easy at night without having to worry if you’re going to die in your dreams. You don’t have to think about exploding land mines or gunfire blowing out your eardrums or your supervisor not giving a shit either way! I don’t want to fight this war any longer. I want to know what true comfort really is.”

“And you think you’re going to get true comfort by slashing a waitress’s throat?” asked Ronis. “There are only two kinds of comfort that will get you: sleeping easy in a six-by-nine cell or sleeping easy in a coffin. In the end, it doesn’t matter if your message is right or wrong. What matters is that you’re putting people in danger with your reckless behavior.”

The sailor’s facial features softened to a contemplative expression, generating silence between her, the captive, and Sheriff Wakizashi. It was a calming silence for all parties involved, but it was really just complacency when the sailor shouted, “Reckless behavior my ass! You haven’t seen shit yet!”

The soldier raised her dagger and forced a shriek out of the waitress as it came down with a quickness. The waitress bowed down on the floor with her ears covered after Ronis pulled the trigger, knocking the sailor to the ground and freeing the server from captivity. The waitress still screamed bloody murder while the other patrons watched in wide-eyed shock and horror.

Ronis, without a hint of remorse, trudged over to the waitress and the sailor’s body with his cowboy boots clicking against the brick floor. He fished several five dollar bills out of his jeans pocket and dropped them on the waitress, who looked up at him with puppy dog eyes and more hysterical sobbing. The Sheriff said, “There’s your tip for putting up with all of this bullshit. I’m proud of you.” No response. “What are you waiting for?”

The waitress scooped up her “gratuity” and ran out of the restaurant in a big blubbering hurry, which was amazing since she wore high heeled shoes the entire time. Ronis looked coldly at the sailor’s prone body and said, “You can stop acting now. That was just a beanbag shot.” The sailor slowly regained consciousness after acquiring a huge purple bump on her forehead. She tenderly touched the bruise and winced in pain after the slightest poke.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” asked Ronis.

“Julie Clay. Seaman Julie Clay,” she said in a dizzied hush.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Sheriff Ronis Wakizashi. I should be taking you to jail right now to serve a long ass sentence. But I’m not going to.” He knelt beside her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “That tough guy talk was just to see how far you’d really go. Intimidation has always worked for me in the past. It didn’t work with you, so I had to shoot you with that beanbag. Sorry about that. You really did have something to say and you weren’t going down without getting your voice out there. I admire that. You really are the dictionary definition of a soldier, Miss Clay.”

“What happens now?” asked Julie. “Do I need to turn around and put my hands behind my back?”

“I’m afraid so, Miss Clay. The handcuffs are a precautionary measure and I never leave home without them. The beanbag gun was optional. I don’t like shooting people when I don’t have to. My father was shot during a traffic stop, not by a crook, but by another cop. I’ve had to live with that shit for a long, long time. I wouldn’t know what comfort was if it came up and bit me on the ass. So I joined the force hoping I could make a difference with just this beanbag gun. But you, it’s not too late for you to make a difference. Hell, you’ve done a lot already with your military career. But before we can turn the clock back, you have to come with me.”

Julie’s breathing got progressively heavier as she held her hands up together and whispered, “Get me out of here. I don’t care where we go from here, just get me the hell out of this place.”

“It’s a good thing you don’t care where we’re going, because I’m not taking you to jail. Jail is for people who have nothing but evil and negativity in their hearts. You’ve got something more than that. I’m taking you to the hospital to be treated. You can’t walk around town with this kind of violent force. I know you don’t mean to do it. I know you don’t want to do it. So come on, let’s get you out of here,” said Ronis before hooking the handcuffs around Julie’s wrists and gently pulling her up.

As the two of them walked slowly toward the exit with Ronis’s arms draped over Julie’s shoulders, she asked, “Why are you doing all of this for me? I almost killed someone and you’re giving me an easy way out.”

“There’s nothing easy about any of this, Miss Clay,” said Ronis in a gentle voice. “But just because your road to recovery is a long one, doesn’t mean that the US Department of Justice has to be an oxymoron.”

I Don't Have To

VERSE 1

Just because I won’t join the fucking army

Doesn’t mean I wear the clothes of Barbie

There is no shame in staying right at home

It’s better than being dead and buried alone

The drill instructors are too damn loud

The abusive authority is too damn proud

I won’t die for some rightwing agenda

Or have visions of war burned into my retina

CHORUS 1

I don’t have to and I don’t want to

I don’t care if “Uncle Sam wants you!”

They can do just fine without me

The war machine will not devour me

VERSE 2

Blaming a whole generation of people

Is just as bigoted and just as evil

Millennials figured out a long time ago

If you step on a land mine, it’s going to blow

Body parts are strewn across the desert

Staying at home sounds so much better

We’re not the cowards you make us out to be

We’re just like you; we were born to be free

CHORUS 1

I don’t have to and I don’t want to

I don’t care if “Uncle Sam wants you!”

They can do just fine without me

The war machine will not devour me

VERSE 3

Coming home in a wooden casket

Flowers on your grave in a woven basket

Going insane with the trauma of war

Held prisoner behind padded cell doors

Financially crippled, forever homeless

Forever damaged, forever hopeless

This is far from being the American Dream

It’s the American Nightmare, time to scream

CHORUS 2

I don’t have to and I don’t want to

Death and blood will forever haunt you

I don’t belong in a body freezer

It’s not betrayal, I’m not stabbing Caesar

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.

NCIS: New Orleans

TV SHOW TITLE: NCIS: New Orleans
CREATOR: Gary Glasberg
YEARS ACTIVE: 2014-present
GENRE: Crime Drama
RATING: TV-PG or TV-14, depending on the intensity of the violence
GRADE: Pass


Whenever a marine or navy sailor is murdered in post-Katrina New Orleans, it is the job of Special Agent Dwayne Pride and the rest of the crew of his NCIS branch to solve those crimes. It takes a lot of trickery, intelligence, and martial arts skills for the crew to find what they’re looking for. But once the job is done, it’s party time in the Big Easy. Lots of beads, lots of booze, lots of tasty food, and an endless supply of fun is what each Special Agent can look forward to at least once in every episode.

Just like with NCIS and NCIS: Los Angeles before it, the New Orleans spin-off has its fair share of colorful characters. The NCIS office is led by Dwayne Pride, a southern gentleman who can be tough when it matters and a maker of sweet potato pie when a friend or family member needs comfort. The two junior agents are Chris LaSalle (another southern gentleman who loves a good time) and Meredith Brody (a Michigan transplant who’s slowly learning the ways of New Orleans culture).

For behind the scenes detail, we have Dr. Loretta Wade (a medical examiner with infinite wisdom), Sebastian Lund (a geeky lab technician with a hunger for conspiracy theories), and Patton Plame (a wheelchair-bound computer hacker who tries to be cooler than Sebastian). With this many eccentric personalities coming together in one office building, witty dialogue, strong chemistry, and deep character development are bound to happen, which is why NCIS: New Orleans is so enjoyable.

And with that many three-dimensional characters running around, it’s only fitting that this series take place in New Orleans, an exciting town full of party animals, jazz, yummy food, black magic, and of course the serious side of it all, brutal murders of American soldiers. No matter how much stress is put on the NCIS team by these hard cases, they always seem to have a good time before and after the case is solved. And why wouldn’t they? New Orleans is a fun city to be in whether you’re vacationing for the first time or you live there full time. “Never a dull moment” is the phrase that usually comes to mind.

And of course, we have my mother’s favorite part of NCIS: New Orleans: the opening theme music. It’s a late 90’s rock song called “Boom Boom” by Big Head Todd and the Monsters. If you’re not familiar with it, go to You Tube and check it out. If you’d like a preview before you go, it’s the same song with the jazzy guitar and snare drum burst in between the lead singer going, “Boom, boom, boom, boom! Bang, bang, bang, bang! Ho, ho, ho, ho! Hey, yeah!” If there was one song in our collective music library that fits New Orleans culture, it’s that one. Every time I hear it, I expect some wild party animals to throw me some plastic beads. I don’t think they want to see my tits, though. Hehe!

Whether you’re a fan of the NCIS franchise or you just like good cop dramas, this show is for you. If you can find one thing in this show to complain about, you’re obviously not in the New Orleans spirit. Whenever there’s hardship or anger, they don’t whine and cry. They boogie! What’s that phrase LaSalle likes to say all the time? “It’s on like Donkey Kong!”