Showing posts with label World. Show all posts
Showing posts with label World. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 2, 2020

Destroying the Earth

Whether you’re watching your Saturday morning cartoons or playing your favorite Super Nintendo game, sometimes you just have to ask to nobody in particular: “Why does the villain want to destroy the earth?” Doesn’t matter if the villain is a robot, an alien, a monster, or an ordinary human with extraordinary powers; chances are good he wants to destroy the world for no fucking reason other than to flex his muscle. You hear him cackle like a madman. You hear him barking orders at his minions even though he’s capable of doing a much better job. But that’s about all you hear. No motives, no thorough planning, and if he does have the latter, it’ll be explained in intricate detail to the protagonist rather than using that precious time to murder the motherfucker. All you know about the villain is that he wants to destroy the earth, but you don’t know why.


Do you realize what happens when the earth is destroyed? There’s a very real possibility that the main villain lives on planet earth, so if he destroys the whole fucking thing, where is he going to live? He’d better have a spaceship handy. If he does, what planet is going to take him in whilst being able to support human life? Even if the planet did support human life, why would they willingly want a genocidal maniac as part of their world population? Does the villain want to destroy his new home world too? Is that all this asshole does on his spare time? Just destroy worlds haphazardly without thinking about the consequences of mass genocide? At least Freiza from Dragon Ball Z had a motive. He wiped out the planet’s population and sold the planet to the highest bidder. He was a businessman. A ruthless businessman, but as we’ve seen with corporate America, that’s really a redundant phrase at this point.


I suppose any villain could use the CEO excuse to destroy random planets, but people who have seen Dragon Ball Z would know where the motive came from and accusations of plagiarism would be louder than a Super Saiyan screaming before he throws a Kamehameha wave…out of his ass…after eating a hundred dollars worth of Taco Bell food. Yes, I know, there’s no such thing as an original idea. Everything comes from somewhere. But surely there are more motives for committing genocide on a planet’s population than just dollars and cents, right? Yes, dollars and cents are very enticing to villains with a shallow point of view, or even a desperate debtor. But it’s hardly the only reason why someone would want to destroy a whole planet.


Destroying the earth seems to have lost its luster over time due to the backwards logistics of it all. But it doesn’t have to be. Part of the fun of being a professional author is spinning tropes on their heads. Maybe the threat of global destruction is part of an ultimatum. “Give me a gazillion dollars or I’m going to blow up a major world city every hour on the hour.” We’ve seen that in movies before, but why would a genocidal lunatic need a gazillion dollars? Climbing out of poverty? Buying a vacation home in somewhere other than a targeted city? Clinging to an expensive cocaine and hooker addiction? These are all solid reasons for world destruction. They’re shitty things to do, but as far as character arcs go, they’ll go a long way in giving villains all three of their much-needed dimensions. The audience will laugh at villains for being cheesy and one-dimensional. Why not make them blackmailers of the most disgusting kind?


But why is it just blackmail? Can a villain want to destroy the earth just for the satisfaction of watching the world burn? Dead bodies can be very satisfying to a villain with a constant Joker’s grin. But after one dead body, he’d have to keep achieving that high in order to maintain satisfaction. When the bodies run out, then what is he going to do? But maybe he will find satisfaction in worldwide genocide, because he sees his abusers in every person he meets. Or maybe he was raised with a Nazi ideology and sees himself as the purest human. Maybe the parents who gave him his Nazi ideology were abusive themselves. In the bloody war between nature and nurture, nurture wins hands down.


Can a villain be born evil, though? Certain genes could allow that to happen, like a predisposition for psychopathy, sociopathy, and narcissism. Maybe the villain is beyond help and can’t help himself when he kills large numbers of people. Maybe he legitimately doesn’t see the consequences of his actions and kills just because. But when he’s criticized or punished for his heinous crimes, he suddenly plays the sympathy card like a little coward. We’ve seen that in movies and TV shows before, because it continues to work. Hell, we see this shit in today’s world news with certain politicians, pundits, and bullies in general. I’m sure they’d love to watch the world burn just because.


What if a magical voice tells the villain to commit worldwide genocide and will only give him relief from his mind-fuck when he completes his task. Where is this voice coming from? The depths of hell? A sorcerer long believed to be dead? A bug implanted in his ear? A caterpillar that crawls up his nose and infests his brain? A psychoactive drug with micro-insects swimming through it? But if you as a writer choose to go down this route, you’ll want to remove it as far as you can from actual real world schizophrenia. Schizophrenics have enough stigmas attached to them as it is. The magical voice has to be purely from a magical or science-fiction standpoint. You can even take a page out of the Cyberpunk 2020 playbook and have the cyborg lose his humanity after overusing his mechanical limbs.


There are thousands of reasons why a villain would want to destroy the earth. Pick one and stick with it. You could have a laughing skeleton in a dark cloak carrying a fiery battleaxe, but unless you give him some reasons for doing the things he does, he’s going to come off as cheesy and clownish. Imagine if Darth Vader, one of the most iconic Star Wars villains of all time, destroyed worlds willy-nilly and had no real reason for it. He lusted for power, above all else. It’s a simple motive, but power is enticing to psychopaths who need to be in control of their environment at all times. Is the lust for power over-used? Could be. But if everything else about the villain clicks, whether it’s the dialogue, the presentation, or the power he already has, then the audience will forgive you if you use the power-hunger trope one more time.


I’m currently in the process of rewriting a fantasy novel called Beautiful Monster for the third time in a row. For the first couple of drafts, Queen Shelly Atwood had no real reason for being a sex-crazed rapist who wanted to get as much power as she could. But in this current draft, she likes having the power and influence of a queen because it turns her on. The money she makes selling brainwashed sex slaves affords her pleasures, comforts, and conveniences she wouldn’t have had as a poor peasant. Power is addictive and so is the one-percent lifestyle. She’s gotten so used to being powerful that she must have things her way all the time. She doesn’t want to lose even a smidgen of that power to anybody. Whether she gains it from raping a future sex slave or making shady business deals, she’ll take it where she can get it. With this much power and money comes possessions that she wouldn’t otherwise have. Scary artwork, pornographic novels, ice cream ingredients, fine wine, powerful drugs, she’s like a spoiled brat on Christmas, but every day is Christmas and every night is Halloween for the ones she steps on.


Any goofy character can be made into a convincing badass as long as there are layers and dimensions to their personality. Any atrocious act of genocide can be justified in the mind of the villain as long as that justification is made loud and clear. Evil for the sake of evil comes across as hokey no matter what the story is. Evil has a purpose. Evil has a background story. Evil has personality. The villains themselves might even insist that they’re the good guys of their own story. They’re destroying the earth to put the miserable population out of their respective misery. They’re committing genocide because the population is somehow responsible for shunning him from all forms of society. The villain is killing at random because he has a heightened sense of alertness that won’t allow him to be taken by surprise even by the most mundane human being or animal.


The table is set, fellow authors. Flesh out your villains, flesh out your stories, flesh out your worlds, and make sure your audience notices all the hard work you put into your craft. Even the most random occurrences happen for a reason despite the reason not being readily available to the victims. They should be available to your readers, though. They’re not stupid. They see right through laziness. You don’t want to be the author who gives them a whole lot of nothing, right? Show us why the villain is evil, don’t just say he wants to destroy the earth. Any clown in a spaceship can destroy the earth. But a true villain can haunt the minds of his audience while he’s doing it.

Saturday, September 28, 2019

Intro: When I Was Young


When I was young, I could tell the world to fuck off with little to no consequences.

I could throw the first punch.

I could bruise the biggest egos.

I could walk among giants.

And then one day…the world fought back.

A shade of purple underneath my eye.

A shade of red in my tunnel vision.

A shade of gray in my foggy mind.

Ever since then, I broke down my own walls just to make others feel comfortable.

I gave you all comfort you didn’t deserve.

You took full advantage of that and more.

The only way you left my life was on your own terms.

Did I give you permission to walk all over me? Don’t answer that.

I don’t care if you think I’m a boring person.

I don’t care if you think I’m an awful writer.

I don’t care if you think I’m too ugly for love.

I stopped caring what you think the minute you haunted my mind like a schizophrenic ghost.

I learned how to cope using positive thinking.

And then you gave me permission to feel bad.

I guess I was only just fucking myself.

The day will come when I’m able to rise up and tell the world to fuck off once more.

It won’t be today.

It won’t be tomorrow.

But one day when you’ve pushed enough of my buttons, I will strike.

I held back too many times for fear of fucking everything up.

But when I unleash my full strength…I’ll take every one of you motherfuckers with me to hell.

Sunday, September 15, 2019

Nobody Cares


VERSE 1
The world is on fire, dictators are liars
Nobody left on our planet to admire
We go through the motions every year
Drown our sorrows in drugs and beer
The other side wants to mock our tears
And divide us with their angry fears
Nobody cares that this is happening
The apathetic have become champions

CHORUS 1
And nobody cares
Nobody cares
Another rainstorm of bullets
Godly rhetoric is bullshit

VERSE 2
We could burn an orphanage tonight
Leave a beacon like a searchlight
Everyone would look the other way
Carry on like it’s just another day
We could steamroll our own young
When they grow a silver tongue
And nobody would give a damn
Despite performances of a ham

CHORUS 2
And nobody cares
Nobody cares
Another war with ourselves
Creating our own version of hell

BRIDGE
Sex is used as a weapon
The rapists go to heaven
The victims are crucified
Accused of spewing lies
And nobody cares
Nobody cares

VERSE 3
If one person could do enough
Then life wouldn’t be so tough
If one person’s voice truly mattered
We could put an end to the splatters
I wanted to believe that this was true
But there’s nothing I can do
Except play the role of the helpless
Call me lazy or call me selfish

CHORUS 3
And nobody cares
Nobody cares
Another day in paradise
Why can’t we all play nice?
And nobody cares
Nobody cares
Another day in the shitter
Leaves us cold and bitter
Another day in this winter
Is worth becoming a quitter
And nobody cares
Nobody cares

Sunday, January 6, 2019

Hope Punk


VERSE 1
Worldwide genocide, national pride
Taking the sheep for a nickel ride
Insanity is the brand new reason
Jingoism is the brand new treason
Thinking hate is something great
It’s sealing this world’s final fate
Dictators pop up in every country
I don’t find this shit normal or funny

CHORUS
Hey, Hope Punk! Let’s rise up!
Let’s show them we can win this one!
Hey, victim! Rise from the grave!
No more living like mindless slaves!
Hey, Hope Punk! Hey, victim!
Let love conquer this unjust system!

VERSE 2
Refuse, resist, stay fucking pissed
No one tells us how to fucking live
Never tell us to sit down and take it
Dystopian bullshit will never make it
Build utopia from our hearts and souls
Everybody matters in these new roles
Be an activist, the fucking catalyst
Worldwide change can be arranged

CHORUS
Hey, Hope Punk! Let’s rise up!
Let’s show them we can win this one!
Hey, victim! Rise from the grave!
No more living like mindless slaves!
Hey, Hope Punk! Hey, victim!
Let love conquer this unjust system!

VERSE 3
Democracy doesn’t have to die
To say otherwise is a blatant lie
Some doubters will never even try
Content to let their lives pass them by
The countdown clock is ticking away
Won’t settle for less for another day
Won’t settle for mediocre or just okay
We’ve got the power, we’re here to stay

CHORUS
Hey, Hope Punk! Let’s rise up!
Let’s show them we can win this one!
Hey, victim! Rise from the grave!
No more living like mindless slaves!
Hey, Hope Punk! Hey, victim!
Let love conquer this unjust system!

FINAL WORDS
Hey, Hope Punk!
Hey, victim!
Hey, Hope Punk!
Time to bring the loudest funk!

Thursday, July 19, 2018

"Truth Is Fragmentary" by Gabrielle Bell


BOOK TITLE: Truth Is Fragmentary
AUTHOR: Gabrielle Bell
YEAR: 2014
GENRE: Graphic Novel
SUBGENRE: Travel Memoir
GRADE: Pass

Gabrielle Bell is a struggling comic book artist who puts herself on a schedule to draw every day despite her mental exhaustion. Her travels around the world give her more than enough creative fuel for an autobiography, both because of the experiences and the exhaustion. She specifically travels to places where other comic book artists meet, as a way to not only better her own style, but to market herself to the public. With a shy personality and an emotionally wrecked mind, putting herself out there becomes increasingly difficult as the graphic novel marches on.

The themes of shyness, stress, and depression are all relatable topics that most readers can get behind. The ways in which Miss Bell shows them are creative and razor-sharp, to say the least. For example, when asked about her shyness, the next panel shows Miss Bell morphing into a two-headed creature as she wracks her brain thinking of an answer. Being stressed out also takes its toll on her as evidenced by her sarcastic “cat riding” vacation photos. It gets so maddening at times for her that she pops Xanax on airplane rides and chews cocaine leaves just to numb the pain. While I don’t recommend going too hardcore with the medication you take, it’s certainly understandable.

Of all the places Gabrielle has traveled to, her visit to Columbia has to be the most eye-opening. We all have this image of Columbia being a corrupt place where guys like Pablo Escobar can run roughshod over everyone while the police do nothing about it. To some extent, that could very well be the case. But Gabrielle also knows that beneath all the violence and drugs, there’s a spark of humanity and a cry for help. As an open-minded liberal, she knows not to judge an entire culture based on the actions of a few people. That’s a lesson we all need to understand at some point, especially with our current politics the way they are now with the Donald in charge.

If there’s one complaint I have about this graphic novel, it’s that the themes I care about the most took too long to kick in. At first it seemed like Gabrielle was having a good time with all the traveling she did. Then you scratch beneath the surface and find that nothing is okay and she needs help. I wish that was more prevalent in the opening chapters of the book. Maybe it was already there and I missed it, but it just seemed to be a deviation from the near end of the story. If you don’t have a lot of patience as a reader, I can see how this would be a turn-off. But I must advise you to keep going until the very end. I did and I’m grateful for it.

It’s easy to tell that Truth Is Fragmentary was a labor of love for Gabrielle Bell and she should be rewarded for soldiering through the stress and depression. Buy a copy of her book and give her your undivided attention. If you like what you see, keep buying her works. She’ll be grateful for any attention she gets, as are many up-and-coming writers and artists. That’s what you have to remember as you go through this book: everybody starts somewhere and it’s the journey, not the destination, that matters the most. Thank you, Gabrielle Bell, for giving me something worthwhile to read! A passing grade for you, my dear!

Tuesday, May 22, 2018

Because of You


Whether or not you believe it to be true
This world is different because of you
Every word you say, every dollar you spend
Every action you take, every position you defend
Every friend you make, every heart you take
Every enemy you kill, all the blood you spill
What seems like nothing on the surface
Could feel to others overwhelmingly urgent
A lifelong lesson or an honorable mention
A permanent heaven or a hellish weapon
For every action, there’s a consequence
No in-betweens, no riding on the fence
Do you want to be a force of positive change?
Or a constant source of negative pain?
No matter what decision you ultimately make
Have no regrets unless you want to break
This world is different because of you
Either tear it apart or become its glue

Friday, August 4, 2017

Blue Sky Blues

VERSE 1
You think the skies are your personal toilet?
You think you can heat the ocean and boil it?
You think your actions have no consequences?
You think we can solve this problem with fences?
Breathing the cleanest air is a god-given right
It never should have come to a verbal fight
It never should have resulted in casualties
That you bury in the ground so casually

CHORUS
More smoke in the air than a hookah bar
More poison in the water with oily tar
More politicians who don’t give a shit
These are blue sky blues, not a comedy bit

VERSE 2
Gas masks are not a fashion trend setter
Bigger trucks will not make things better
Lead doesn’t belong anywhere near water
You’ve led us all to the fucking slaughter
You answer to the world, owe them everything
You talk a lot, but haven’t said anything
As long as your bank account continues to grow
You’ll never be wrong, what the fuck do we know?

EXTENDED CHORUS 1
More smoke in the air than a hookah bar
More poison in the water with oily tar
More politicians who don’t give a shit
These are blue sky blues, not a comedy bit
Coal country blues, not a sitcom scene
Steel country blues, so fucking obscene
Pipeline blues, covering rivers in black
Blue sky blues, earth is under attack

BRIDGE
Climate change is as real as it gets
The safest bet, get paid until death
It’s not too late to clean this mess
This will be your ultimate test

EXTENDED CHORUS 2
More smoke in the air than a hookah bar
More poison in the water with oily tar
More politicians who don’t give a shit
These are blue sky blues, not a comedy bit
Drill baby drill, more people to kill
This ain’t no hoax, this is real, folks
The planet will drag you to hell with it

Find a cure for this pollution sickness

Thursday, August 4, 2016

Necrocosm

***NECROCOSM***

This will be the first of many journal entries where I come up with an idea for a setting and hopefully a short story, D&D campaign, or novel will snowball from there. What are we kicking off with? The Necrocosm, of course. People who read my poetry will remember a heavy metal song called Necrocosm which basically described the audience at WWE Fast Lane 2015. Even though there was excitement and action going on in the ring, the Tennessee audience acted bored out of their minds. Therefore, they’re living in a necrocosm, or a death world (because they’re a dead audience). It seemed like an apt description to me.

The suffix “cosm” in the Greek language means “world”. I know this because I used to spend my time surfing You Tube for Clerks videos and in one of them, Randal says to Dante, “This is a life of convenience for you and any attempt to change it would shatter the pathetic microcosm you’ve fashioned for yourself.” I looked up the word microcosm on dictionary.com and it was defined as a “little world”, micro meaning “little” and cosm meaning “world”.

So then I thought, what other Greek prefixes could we pair up with the suffix cosm? I’ve done this exercise plenty of times with the suffix “mancer” and thus we have short stories like The Aeromancer (wind wizard), The Hydromancer (water wizard), and The Cryomancer (ice wizard). Let’s see what we can do with the word “cosm”. A pyrocosm would be a world of fire and can actually be an alternative word for the sun. A cryocosm would be a world of ice and that’s basically what Pluto is. A thermocosm would be a world of heat and Mercury would qualify since it’s the closest planet to the sun.

So what could we do with a necrocosm, or a world of death? Lots of things, actually. Some would say the earth in the year 2016 would qualify as a necrocosm since a lot of mass shootings and celebrity deaths took place. Some would say heaven and hell are necrocosms since according to Christianity, that’s where dead people go. Maybe the word necrocosm could apply to graveyards, funeral homes, and morgues.

Those are all valid interpretations, but what if I took it a step further? What if there was a planet in our solar system governed by an alien race of zombies? It doesn’t even have to be a structured government. It could be anarchy with zombies rising from the dirt to feast on trespassers. Maybe it could be an autocracy with an evil necromancer governing everything so that one day he can use his minions to conquer other worlds. Maybe it’s just one big farm where souls of the dead are kept and harvested. I’ve often thought of the possibilities of entire planets being used as seals for demons and undead creatures. Once that seal is broken, all bets are off, motherfuckers. Keegan Day from “Occupy Wrestling” never thought of this shit. Or did he? Hmm.

Okay, so we’ve got this world of reanimated dead bodies. What we need now is a reason for an adventurer to go there. Surely, traveling to such a violent and savage place would be a suicide mission. There must be something or someone of value on this necrocosm that would be worth wading through an army of dead bodies. A villain to fight, a prisoner to rescue, an artifact to steal, these are all good reasons to risk life and limb for a journey to that planet. If you know how to build tension, you can pull off this storyline and be successful at it.

So how about it, ladies and gentlemen? If this became a D&D campaign, would your character have the cajones to venture onto such a planet with the lingering fear of having his flesh and organs gnawed on? Would you have the solid steel spine to read through a novel that went behind fierce enemy lines like the war zone the necrocosm is? Could I possibly fit an entire world’s worth of action and drama into one short story? So many possibilities, so little time. Hell, if somebody else wants to expand upon this idea and do something with it, I’m not against it as long as you remember where you got this juicy creative fuel from. The table of opportunity has been set, people. What are you going to do?


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

It’s a brand new week and a brand new prompt has been put into place. Apparently, this suggestion was from many years ago when a former admin named Mike Ragland first posted it in the prompt ideas forum. The theme is Crumbling Well (that definitely has Mike’s fingerprints all over it), so my story this week will be called “The Ophidiomancer” (more Greek wordplay, for sure). It goes like this:


CHARACTERS:

Shaun Goldberg, Sheep Mask-Wearing Giant
Carlos Pierre, Psychotic Snake Handler

PROMPT CONFORMITY: Carlos keeps his poisonous snakes in a crumbling well in the middle of the field.

SYNOPSIS: Shaun is a thirty-year-old man child who recently escaped from his abusive mother and is wandering the plains like a mindless zombie. He stumbles upon Carlos and his followers in the middle of a snakebite ritual. Carlos offers to heal Shaun’s soul with a “test of faith”, but when the snake bites the man child, he goes berserk and starts throwing the followers around. Carlos tries to get out of dodge, but he keeps stumbling and rolling.

FUN FACT: For all of you WWE fans out there (both old school and new), these two main characters are based off of actual wrestlers that worked with the company. Shaun Goldberg is likened to Erick Rowan and Carlos Pierre has similarities to Jake “The Snake” Roberts. They come from two completely different eras of wrestling and bring their own form of creepiness to the table. Since a match between Rowan and Roberts won’t actually take place due to Roberts’ old age, this short story is the next best thing.


***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Elizabeth Wilson has been knocked out of the park and now it’s time for someone new. That someone is Desilu McCourt, the Amazonian hammer swinger from “Occupy Wrestling”. You know the one. She’s the ogre chick who nearly snapped Debra Winter’s spine in half before Mitch McLeod came to the rescue. I’ve done a drawing of Desilu in the past, but I don’t think very highly of it, so I’m going to attempt her again. Wish me luck!


***MOVIE REVIEWS***

The last time I did a movie review, it was for Zootopia and that was many months ago. I don’t do movie reviews very often, but that’s only because I can count the number of visits to the theater I’ve made this year on one hand. I don’t plan on doing a review of Star Wars: The Force Awakens, because I’m still afraid of pissing off people who haven’t seen it yet with plot spoilers. That leaves me with two items on this short task list: the 2016 version of Ghostbusters and a little known documentary called Lucha Mexico. Ghost hunting and masked wrestling: such a delightful combination. Both movies will receive passing grades (four stars). It’s all a matter of putting the words and debating points together in a clean and crisp manner.


***BOOK REVIEW***

As most of you know, I’ve been doing some beta reading for my wonderful author friends Andy Peloquin and Marie Krepps. Their deadlines for publication are drawing near, so you can expect book reviews for them around those times. The first one to come up will be of Marie Krepps’ teen romance novel “What Money Can’t Buy”. It’s being published on August 11th, the same day as my Slipknot X Marilyn Manson concert. We both have things to be excited for!


***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“School uniforms: bad theory! It’s the idea that if kids wear uniforms to school it’ll help maintain order. Don’t these schools do enough damage trying to get these kids to think alike? Now they’re going to get them to look alike too? And it’s not a new idea. I once saw it in old newsreels from the 1930’s, though it was a little hard to understand because the narration was in German!”


-George Carlin-

Thursday, January 7, 2016

Ancient Spirits of Evil

CHORUS
Ancient spirits of evil!
Souls of skeletal people!
This earth will not heal!
It’s all of theirs to steal!


VERSE 1
Death and decay is what they bring
To every hunk of land and living thing
In eternal pain and suffering we scream
Nightmare fuel for an innocent dream
Man, woman, child, it means nothing
To ancient spirits not known for loving
Lightning and shadows is their currency
The world is theirs for all damn eternity


CHORUS
Ancient spirits of evil!
Souls of skeletal people!
This earth will not heal!
It’s all of theirs to steal!


VERSE 2
They harvest the souls of those in power
Rain down on the poor with a fiery shower
Playing politics like it’s a game of D&D
Ripping the land from under you and me
This shit has continued for many centuries
Yet we look at each other like brutal enemies
What the fuck is happening to our dying world?
When will the ancient ones’ flags unfurl?


CHORUS
Ancient spirits of evil!
Souls of skeletal people!
This earth will not heal!
It’s all of theirs to steal!


VERSE 3
The ghosts of this earth will never rest
We constantly put this planet to the test
Smog, war, hunger, it’s all the same
This is what it takes to make us tame
Digging in the dumpster for a peach pit
Climbing to the top, you’ll never reach it
History teaches us that we never learn
Ancient spirits of evil watch us all burn


HOOK
This isn’t something you can teach at college
Nobody else gives a damn about knowledge
Wisdom has always been in short supply
We’re left to the vultures to feast and fly

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Stardust

When Mitch O’Connor’s spacecraft touched down on the world of Stardust, he couldn’t believe how small it was. It truly was a retreat for an introverted hermit like Marcus Edge. The door to the pod-like spacecraft opened and Mitch clunked down the stairs in his spiked metal power armor while carrying a gauss rifle that was bigger than his own arms. “Oh, this is too easy. Too damn easy!” he said to himself.

Stardust wasn’t the most complex world in the galaxy. Smallness aside, it appeared to be a jungle land complete with coconut trees, dirt trails, tall grass, plant life, just your everyday nature trail on planet earth. Even for a planet this tiny, Mitch still had a problem finding his target Marcus Edge. It didn’t help matters that the space mercenary was stomping around on the ground in his gigantic metal boots. Then again, his job didn’t require a great deal of stealth, so he didn’t dwell on it much.

“Marcus Edge!” shouted Mitch through an amplified microphone inside his space helmet. “I know your ass is around here somewhere! I’m feeling pretty good today, probably because toasting your little world is going to be the easiest thing I’ve ever done! So here’s what I’m going to do, Marcus: I’m going to give you the chance to get your hermit ass off this planet so that when I burn down the plant life and kill all the animals, you won’t have to be a part of it. My boss at World Corp wants to turn your little home into a vacation getaway. It don’t look like much of a vacation right now, buddy boy. It looks more like…”

Before he was allowed to finish his oratory, Mitch O’Connor’s legs were snatched up from underneath him and he hung upside down on a vine. He was so far off the ground that when he dropped his rifle, he couldn’t pick the damn thing back up again. “Oh, you’ve got traps now?” he said. “Well, I got news for you, smart ass: I’ve been doing this shit for a whole decade and ain’t no vine going to stop my ass from burning everything in sight!”

His boldness turned to fear when he found himself face to face with a Venus Fly Trap, the owner of that tight vine. This particular plant had teeth the size of railroad spikes and blood oozing from its mouth like a waterfall. Mitch’s lips were vibrating and his eyes widened at the sight of this monster. And then he went back to being bold when he said, “Wait a minute! Why the hell am I scared of a goddamn plant?”

With his metal space helmet, Mitch O’Connor unleashed a powerful head butt to the Venus Fly Trap, loosening a few teeth and spraying some more blood, but more importantly, loosing the vine’s grip on the mercenary’s legs. Mitch plummeted to the grassy ground below, but his metal armor protected him from injury, so he pretty much picked himself up, dusted himself off, and found his rifle again.

“Is that all you got, Marcus? Some stupid plant? Oh, this is going to be easier than I thought! And I’m making millions off of this job! It’s like Christmas came early!” boasted Mitch.

“Don’t be too sure of that, you disgusting human!” said the busted up Venus Fly Trap in a raspy voice. With Mitch watching in awe and horror, the plant morphed into a human being wearing bear skin clothing and a raccoon cap on his head. This was him alright: Marcus Edge, hermit druid.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be, huh? You want to put up a fight? Well, goddamn, man, you’ve got one now, bitch!” shouted the soldier for hire when he raised his gauss rifle and opened automatic fire. That many plutonium bullets would have been enough to shred a normal human being into dust. Hell, the surgeons would need a microscope to put his sorry ass back together again. But when the storm of bullets ended, there was no corpse.

Instead all Mitch O’Connor got was a deafening bird squawk right in his left ear. Marcus, who now morphed into a parrot, continued to blast his windpipes in his opponent’s ear and double the man over as he got a headache. When the druid believed his adversary had enough, he flew off into the sunset and left Mitch to clutch his aching head.

The sudden drop in volume inspired the mercenary to aim his rifle and unleash another rainstorm of violence upon his opponent. The shredding impact only resulted in one feather this time. On measly little feather.

“What the hell’s going on here?!” Good question, Mr. O’Connor. What was going on was that Marcus Edge had now morphed into a charging rhino. The tank-like beast barreled and stampeded his way across the grass and knocked a few trees over. With little time for his opponent to react, Marcus gored Mitch and sent him flying backwards several feet, knocking a few trees over himself.

That power armor was a blessing for Mitch since he had just survived a high drop and getting spear tackled by a rhino. But now the mercenary was feeling the pain. He was so exhausted from these attacks that he took longer than usual to get up. He crashed into trees, for god’s sake. Trees! Yet he continued to be brash and cocky in the face of danger.

“Is that all you got, you son of a bitch? What are you going to change into now, a small puppy? Are you going to bark your way to victory?” yelled Mitch.

Changing from a rhino back to his human form, Marcus slowly approached his nemesis and said, “No, I’m not going to do any barking today. That’s been your job since you landed on Stardust, you asshole.”

With Mitch watching in awe of his opponent, Marcus continued his speech with, “You know what I detest about the human race? You people think you have the right to conquer whatever the hell you want. You did it on earth with pretty much every group of people that wasn’t white, including Indians and Africans. That’s all you guys do: just take, take, take. You have some oil? I’ll take that. You have human rights? I’ll take that as well. Is that supposed to be impressive? To who, exactly? Your mother? Your father? Your trophy wife? The president himself? How many more people have to die before you’re finally satisfied with the things you already have! You make me sick! You all make me sick!”

An uncomfortable hush had fallen over the scene and then Marcus laid into Mitch some more, “That’s why I came to Stardust: to get away from it all. And now some space jockey like you decides to come to my world and sell it to some rich asshole? Let me fill you in on a little secret, buddy boy. Stardust isn’t just any tiny planet. It’s the product of my own imagination. As long as I keep being creative, I can manipulate any part of this world I want while you only have that stupid rifle to overcompensate for your small penis. To put it in words even a money-hungry thug like you can understand…you were screwed the minute you stepped foot on my world.”

This would have been the best time for Mitch O’Connor to get back in his spaceship and tell his bosses at World Corp to shove it. Just leave now while he still had his peace of mind and still had his health. But instead he decided to keep playing the role of an arrogant jerk-ass. He yelled, “You worthless piece of shit!” prior to opening fire yet again.

Except this time it wasn’t just plutonium bullets. It was also fireballs, ice sickles, lightning bolts, biological sludge, and laser beams, all of which were hidden compartments on his rifle and all of which were necessary in doing his job to destroy entire planets to get them ready for flipping.

After unloading a cataclysm of agony that Armageddon itself could never produce, Mitch didn’t even check to see if there was a corpse this time. He just dropped to his hands and knees, breathed deeply, and laughed his ass off. “I got you, bitch! I got you this time! And there ain’t nothing you can do about it!”

Mitch was so busy laughing his way to insanity that he didn’t realize he was sinking in a mud pit. Even when the mud was completely covering his space helmet, he couldn’t have cared less. It was when he was underneath the mud pit and into a cavern of filth that he realized what was going on. The realization hit him even harder when Marcus was standing there with his arms folded saying, “What took you so long?”

“No…no…this ain’t happening, man! This ain’t happening! Don’t you ever fucking die, man?!” screamed a deranged Mitch O’Connor.

Marcus laid a hand on his invader’s metal shoulder and said, “Old druids don’t die. They just get better.” With Mitch shedding tears of defeat, Marcus Edge transformed into a gigantic grizzly bear and started chewing and mauling his way through the metal armor, which at this point was a lot like opening a can of Chef Boyardee ravioli. Oh, the meat sauce inside was going to be so worth all this rage.

Friday, August 15, 2014

"My Bloody Roots" by Max Cavalera



Max Cavalera is without a doubt one of the hardest working metal musicians in the industry. He’s fronting three bands (Soulfly, Cavalera Conspiracy, and Killer Be Killed) and he was the founding member of one of the most successful metal bands today: Sepultura. He’s not going to flaunt his greatness in public because he’s a humble and friendly guy, so I’m going to do it for him in what little space I have in this blog entry about his memoir, “My Bloody Roots”.

The reason he can keep a frenetic pace in his work life is he has an unrivaled passion for heavy metal music since it basically saved his life. His father died while Max was only nine years old. Without him, the Cavalera clan lived in poverty in autocratic Brazil. He knew he could never make it as an ice cream salesman or a schoolchild because he was too pissed off about his father being gone. So what did he do? With what little money he had, he bought heavy metal albums and let them inspire him to become the hardcore rock and roller he his today.

All of this energy in his music didn’t come without a price. Aside from his father dying, he also had to deal with the death of his stepson Dana Wells, whose murder remains unsolved to this day. Max’s wife and Dana’s mother Gloria spent the longest time in despondency and all Max wanted to do was to be there for her while the guys of his band at the time, Sepultura, wanted to go on tour right away. One thing led to another and Max eventually left the band along with his wife, who was their manager.

Max was an emotional wreck to say the least, so much so that it affected his ability to continue his music career. So what did he do? The same thing any passionate metal head would have done: he formed Soulfly and became an instant success. The first Soulfly album was released in 1998 and they’ve been in business ever since. Add to that workload Cavalera Conspiracy and Killer Be Killed and you’ve got the recipe for true heavy metal badassery.

I won’t go into too much detail about Max Cavalera’s life (I fear I may have done that already). All I’ll say is that he came back from so many hardships and he did it all through the power of heavy metal music. It’s aggressive, fast-paced, and hardcore music straight from the soul. Without it, not only would Max not have found an escape, but those who listened wouldn’t have either. He doesn’t just rock out for the hell of it; he touches lives.

 

***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

DR. CUSHING: Jerome, it’s not too late to be saved! You won’t get another chance!

CRAZY K: I don’t need another motherfucking chance! You want to know why?! ‘Cause I don’t give a fuck! I said I don’t give a fuck! I don’t give a fuck! I don’t give a fuck! I don’t give a fuck! I don’t give a fuck! I don’t give a FUCK!!

Thursday, May 30, 2013

Fight Scenes

Seeing as how I’m a fan of action movies and literary thrillers, it’s always been my belief that fight scenes should be just as fast-paced and action-packed as a Jackie Chan or Bruce Lee movie. That’s why WWE is so dazzling to watch, because the fighting is reminiscent of a martial arts movie. UFC matches aren’t always like that and some of them can be pretty boring. Isn’t that right, Clay Guida and Gray Maynard? If all fight scenes should be dazzling, then how would that translate into literature? When reading Kick-Ass and Kick-Ass 2, the fight scenes in those graphic novels were extremely bloody and a lot of bones were snapped in two. That’s one way to make a fight exciting: turning the characters into Gorn Stars Dancing. Another way to make them thrill rides is by having the characters throw a lot of shots at each other and have them dodged or blocked, just like a martial arts movie as I’ve said before. But this is only for fight scenes in books that are billed as action stories. If you take a look at the fight scenes in “For the Win” by Cory Doctorow, you’ll find that they’re extremely short and are ended usually by one or two moves. Not the most exciting way to stage a fight, but it is appropriate for the genre of that book. And quite frankly, that’s alright with me. If I’m reading something from “The Cat Who…” series, it would greatly surprise me if Jim Qwilleran disposed of the prime suspect by throwing ninja stars at him and slashing his throat with a handsaw. By the same token, if a fight in “The Hunger Games” was ended by simply punching someone in the face and knocking them into unconsciousness, it wouldn’t be true to the genre. This isn’t so much a lesson in how to make a fight scene exciting. It’s about staying true to the genre in which you’re working with. I know a lot of authors out there hate being categorized into a particular genre. Some authors prefer their books to be called “dark fantasy” instead of “horror” while others choose “dystopian fiction” instead of “sci-fi”. Well, guess what! If you don’t have a genre that defines your book, chances are your fight scenes are going to be ridiculous as hell and unreadable. Can you imagine Offred from “The Handmaid’s Tale” charging through a crowd of people on a horse while wielding a jousting lance? It wouldn’t make any fucking sense! Need more examples? Yeah, I thought not. Goodbye, pachos and pachas!

 

***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

ALPHONSE: I want him to beg for mercy.
VICTOR: I don’t think he’s going to beg for mercy.
ALPHONSE: He wouldn’t get it anyways.

-Dead Man Down-

Thursday, May 2, 2013

"Gone Too Soon" by Ian Hamilton



As you can guess from the title of this book, you won’t be expecting a happy ending…or middle…or beginning. What this 90-page summary implies is that it actually took tragedies in order for the wrestling business to change. These changes should have taken place a long time ago, but it’s an ugly side of life we all have to live with at some point. Take for instance the first person this book talks about, Owen Hart. He was a fun guy to be around and a great performer in the ring. The fact that he’s never won a world title before is a sacrilege. He would have had a lifetime to do it, but in order for that to happen, he couldn’t have performed a stunt from the top of the rafters and fallen to his death. Unfortunately, that’s how Owen’s life came to an end: the harness he was wearing broke and he plummeted to the ground below. It actually took that accident for the writers to realize that dangerous stunts like those should be kept to a minimum and closely monitored. Or not even done at all, that would be even better. You know who else could have used close monitoring? Eddie Guerrero. For a while, he was heavily into drugs and alcohol and it got so bad that he had to be released from WWE. Upon completing rehab and getting himself clean, he came back to the company and ended up winning the WWE Championship from Brock Lesnar. That would end up being his only world title reign as a year later, he had a heart attack from all the drug abuse he put himself through. Because of that horrifying death, WWE put into place the Wellness Program, where superstars can be suspended for testing positive for drugs of any kind. It seems good on paper until you consider the case of Chris Benoit, who passed several drug tests despite having a high ratio of testosterone in his body. Because of his own problems with performance-enhancing drugs and several blows to the head, he went into a rage and murdered his wife and child before hanging himself on exercise equipment. I’ve said it before and it bears to be repeated: it shouldn’t take a tragedy for regulations to be in effect, let alone three. And the sad part about all of this? These three wrestlers, Owen Hart, Eddie Guerrero, and Chris Benoit, are not the only ones who died under such circumstances. If you look near the back of the book, you’ll see an entire list of people who died prematurely. It’s depressing to see your heroes go so soon. It really is.

 

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“These wounds won’t seem to heal. This pain is just too real. There’s just too much that time cannot erase. When you cried, I’d wipe away all of your tears. When you screamed, I’d fight away all of your fears. And I held your hand through all of these years. But you still have all of me. I’ve tried so hard to tell myself that you’re gone. But though you’re still with me, I’ve been alone all along.”

-Evanescence singing “My Immortal”-