Monthly Archives: June 2015

Gays Win the Weimar Lottery

Imagine there is a lottery in Germany, much like our modern one back in the 1920’s/ Imagine a one Wolfdietrich von Stumm of Weimar Germany in November of 1923. After a rout of drinking and harassing some Jews, he stops by his local store to check his lottery tickets.

“Heilige Scheiße!” (Holy Shit!) this intoxicated antisemite exclaims, he has just matched all numbers from last week’s lottery.

Then he reads that what would have been his millions of Marks last week that would have bought a week’s worth of meals will now not even be enough for a downpayment on a loaf of bread. He had wondered where his wife had found the Mark-wallpaper design!

“Fick die Henne!” (Fuck the Chicken) He spits throwing the newspaper to the ground and going back to the bar.

That, in a nutshell is what gays in America got today in the Supreme Court ruling that made same sex marriages legal in all 50 states.

What used to be considered a sacrament (if only sometimes as an ideal) is now not even afforded the status of a gentlemanly handshake. Not even the force of a business contract. A large segment of the current generation skips it entirely seeing the hollow folly their predecessors made of the institution.

People can divorce for any reason whatsoever – children be damned – under the slightest whim or the faintest of pressures. Because he has found a tighter ass or bigger tits, or she a bigger dick or larger wallet, or the initial lust has worn away – whatever. And they are free to repeat this process as many times as they feel the need to.

In today’s culture of ME, marriage didn’t stand a chance. Now I never had children, but I didn’t need to to learn the first lesson of marriage, it is not about ME. And this goes roundly and doubly if you have children then it is absolutely NOT ABOUT YOU.

So diluted and meaningless is the modern institution of secular marriage we have the spectacle of the “open marriage” which is really not a marriage no matter if the modern episte allows for the exclusion of the essential in one’s definition.

People walk around having children in marriage, without the marriage at the same time, having 4 children by four different fathers (never forget I point the finger at the fathers as well).

I get astonishment when I tell people I’ve been married for 22 years. It is like I’ve achieved some sort of rare, almost unheard of feat. That used to be the norm.

So no one be shocked that marriage is now “redefined” because it has been undefined for some years now.

What did they get? It’s a pity, they didn’t get much. Some vague contract thingy that will help you in court when you divorce (maybe) get you health insurance through your partner. They’re getting something most people I know aren’t searching for and don’t care about.

It is not an achievement. They did not gain anything. What they gained was a rubble. If they had gained it 50, even 40 years ago, that may have been something (scratch the 40, that would have been 1975, too late!). They would have really achieved something if it was still viewed as sacrament.

But I’ll leave it for the reader to see why that would be impossible. Hint: the answer lies not in intolerance or even religious views, the answer lies in psychology and I left the hint in this very post. Happy hunting.

Anyway… Hurray! Good for you!

 

 

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Some Thoughts on Horror

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I can’t remember who I read it from, it may have been Stephen King in Dense Macabre, that horror and comedy were two of the hardest genres to write in. You were in constant danger of the one becoming the other. Of inept horror becoming comedy, or comedy becoming the horror of embarrassing ineptness.

No one minds seeing a poorly executed horror movie with bad acting, it is its own genre. I used to love USA’s Up All Night with Gilbert Gottfried and his commentary of some astoundingly bad films. No one wants to see a failed comedy, we get angry at having wasted our time.

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A horror writer (one that is attempting to shock or frighten) does not want laughter when he wants a scream. And a comedy writer doesn’t want a moan when there should be a chuckle.

I have flirted with trying my hand at horror before. I would probably be a little mild for people’s tastes nowadays. I don’t mind gore, actually quite numb to it, it just doesn’t interest me, it is not horrifying. I think far deeper horror is below the surface of the skin, below even the subcutaneous layer. It is not the doctor dismembering an infant in some dank basement that is the horror – not the deepest horror, but what is it in the doctor that makes the action possible. And how do you make that as difficult as possible for the reader.

Him just being a crazy is boring. He has to be made human, he has to be your father, he has to be you… or someone very close to you. That is why I find those profiler murder porn shows (the fictional or reality-based ones) to be so dull. There is a certain horror to the existence of a John Wayne Gacy or a Dahmer, but only so much because they are so much not us. We tend, as if instinctively, to disassociate ourselves from such individuals. And I don’t think it is an irrational distancing. Although many of the processes by which one becomes a sociopathic killer are the same processes by which many of us also become what we are, there are many distinctive characteristics that makes them wholly separate. To name but one, such killers display an almost complete lack of impulse control – that is how they first start indulging in dark fantasies.

As adults, if you are not already one of them, you are not going to become one of them. Not the lone serial killer type. Now you could possess the make-up to be an Angel of Death in a totalitarian dictatorship.

I think many more of us have that potential than we would care to admit.

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Going back to the original comment about horror and comedy I find that it is obvious why these two genres would be so difficult. They are specifically defined by the eliciting of a specific emotion or reaction, horror in the former and laughter in the latter. It is true that all art seeks to elicit some sort of reaction in the participant. Mystery seeks to build suspense (who did it?). Although I think mystery achieves its aim more by a mechanical means of plot structure.

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Horror and comedy seek to produce all the elements that any other genre attempts to produce, plus a standing order to produce certain specific reactions that define itself as that genre.

That’s pretty demanding.


Christopher Lee and American Horror Story

Christopher Lee

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Sadly, actor Christopher Lee passed away last week at 93. Most people now probably remember him from either the Lord of the Rings trilogy or the Star Wars prequels. Growing up in the 70’s I remember him also as Dracula and about a dozen other bad men.

One thing I didn’t know about him was his heavy metal music career in his late 80’s to the time of his death. Heavy metal? Really? Yep. That’s gotta mark you as some sort of badass. Of course he’s not wailing high falsettos because he was more a bass voice. But I sampled some of his album Charlemagne: The Omens of Death, it’s… different, and certainly different as Lee comes on sounding like what you’d imagine Charlemagne to sound like.

If he sang in English, that is.

He also supplanted Tony Bennett as the oldest living performer to enter the music charts with his song Jingle Hell.

I laugh. That’s great. 91 and half years old and he makes it to #22 on the charts with a heavy metal song called Jingle Hell.

American Horror Story

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I have always been a big fan of horror. Unfortunately horror is a very difficult genre to produce, in any medium, so most of it is garbage. Most of it nowadays I don’t even try to sample. But it is a genre that will always have a place in the dark recesses of my blackened soul, mwehahaha!

When I was growing up I had this friend named Pat who had a truly creepy house in mid-state Michigan. It was a two story house by a river and there was a fenced in barn opposite the house that always had a night light that shined dimly on the door. His bedroom was a small, cramped thing with only room enough for a bed, a television and the usual piles of children’s junk. But his bed was built into one of the walls of the bedroom and adjacent to it was the closet. When you entered the closet on the floor was a little hole in the wall that went under the bed. It was creepy.

We would stay up half the night watching the horror movie run on whatever channel did that in the 70’s. And then take dares to solo journeys either to the barn or under the bed. Or into the woods… across the river… under a pale moonlight.

And I was scared shitless by the whole Amityville Horror for many years. I think it was the news magazine exposes about it that really scared me.

Of course Stephen King managed to scare the shit out of me a couple of times in the 80’s. But the movies never did it for me after that. Slasher fests seemed to be the order of the day.

Now I’m a little old to be scared that same way again, but I still enjoy the genre. So I was delighted when my wife turned me on (pause for your discomfort…) to American Horror Story. It gives me three things horror can still give me: horripilation, suspense, genuine uneasiness.

First, the acting in this series is fantastic. You have Jessica Lange, that alone is probably worth the price of admission. Sarah Paulson, Kathy Bates is in for seasons 3 & 4 so far, Angela Bassett, and many other familiar faces.

The younger cast members are some real talent. Even Peters is in every season and is one of the best young actors I’ve seen in awhile although he did spend most of season 3 as a mute corpse… And Taissa Farmiga is also very good.

Zachary Quinto (most famous for taking over the role of Spock in the Star Trek revamp timeline movies) is absolutely stone cold as a sadistic psychopath. Some of the scenes with him and Sarah Paulson in season two were quite disturbing.

Each season is around 13 episodes with each one getting the characters into deeper and deeper trouble. Season two is definitely the strongest of the ones I’ve seen. It takes place in a psych ward run by nuns… and a former Nazi experimental doctor.

The only drawback to the show is they do an excellent job of building the tension and the story up to episode 8 or 9, and it seems right then that you can’t go any further and it has to break at that point – how are they going to do 4 or 5 more episodes? Well, they can’t so they have to segue into something or stretch it out. The ending of season three was noticeable for this problem. I think the problem is not the writing, which is excellent, the season is simply a little too long.

As the genre it is, you can’t have “slumber” episodes that are meant as filler. You can’t have a family in a haunted house and then have a few episodes where they have some yucks at Knott’s Berry Farm. Or have a psych ward run by nuns and then have a few episodes where some of the nuns take off for a Pope tour or something. Unless he’s the antiPope…

Horror in that way is very restricted to plot line. You can have scenes that relieve the tension for a moment, but you can’t go off the grid and cut it off entirely.

That knife, the psychopath, Dracula has to always be, possibly, right around the corner ready to strike.


Follow-up to “Unamused”

I told my wife about Jenner’s comment that life as a woman being primarily a matter of mental state and lifestyle. With due scorn and, I believe, justice, she scoffed at this.

When he gets cramps and bleeds five days a month for decades, then he can talk about being a woman. Something to that effect. More basically it is the capacity for pregnancy and everything that entails that makes a woman a woman.

Or, as with so many other topics, South Park said it best in the following dialogue. This is where Mr. Garrison gets a sex change and thinks he is pregnant and so happily goes to the abortion clinic. Note: the scene is pretty damned offensive (and funny) and so to the point.

MRS. GARRISON
                         Hello doctor, looks like I need an abortion. 
                         
 
                                     DOCTOR
                         ...an abortion?

                                     MRS. GARRISON
                         Yeah, I've got one growing inside me. 
                         Now, are you gonna scramble its brains 
                         or just vacuum it out?  ...If you want 
                         you can just scramble it and I'll queef 
                         it out myself.
 
                                     DOCTOR
                         Mmister Garrison-

                                     MRS. GARRISON
                          Mrs. Garrison.

                                     DOCTOR
                         Mmrs. Garrison, you can't have an abortion.
 
                         
                                     MRS. GARRISON
                         Don't you tell me what I can and can't 
                         do with my body!  A woman has a right 
                         to choose!
 
                                     DOCTOR
                         No, I mean you're physically unable 
                         to have an abortion, because you can't 
                         get pergnant.
 
                                     MRS. GARRISON
                         But I missed my period.

                                     DOCTOR
                         You can't have periods either.  You 
                         had a sex change, Mr. Garrison, but 
                         you don't have ovaries or a womb. You 
                         don't produce eggs.
 
                                     MRS. GARRISON
                          You mean, I'll never know what it feels 
                         like to have a baby growing inside me 
                         and then scramble its brains and vacuum 
                         it out?
 
                                     DOCTOR
                         N-that's right.

                                     MRS. GARRISON
                         But I paid five thousand dollars to 
                         be a woman. This would mean I I'm not 
                         really a woman. Ih, I'm just a... a 
                         I'm just a guy with a mutilated penis!
 
                         
                                     DOCTOR
                         Basically, yes.

                                     MRS. GARRISON
                         ...Oh boy, do I feel like a jackass.
 

And You Can Now Call Me “Unamused”

So the guy that used to be on my Wheaties box as a child is now a woman, but not a woman. I pity any writers of the absurd. Break your pen, you’re done. The absurd now would have to be that world that was once considered normal.

The thing that struck me about this was ESPN’s jump to award her/him, no, fuck it, it has a dick, HIM, the Arthur Ashe courage award.

What courage?

We are talking about a man, (yes, a man) that hid and repressed this until the day when most of society would gush over his “coming out”. He waited until a post like mine would (if anyone deemed to come to this dark corner of the internet) be a minority opinion, hissed and booed, and called mean. I would be called part of the cause of suicides.

He waited until the day when Imdb and wikipedia would have his pronoun completely changed the day of the announcement and all major media outlets would follow in lockstep.

And if this is courageous, where is Boy George’s fucking reward, Rupaul’s? These guys were dressing as women long before it was so “courageous”.

The man (yes, man) waited until it is almost illegal not to clap and say, “oh, he’s so courageous.” Well, it would be illegal not to provide him flowers for his next wedding.

This is like a Russian athlete coming out against communism now. Big whoop. You were quiet in 1980, now you want a freedom medal?

This man waited long enough that ESPN would say the following without blinking:

They also provided a written statement which said Jenner was chosen “to help move forward a constructive dialogue about progress and acceptance.”

You waited until the day they would set it all up for you. You see, they even admit he didn’t win for courage (because as is obvious, that is not one of his characteristics) but for some other agenda. So Lauren Hill (see below) can just be dead ,who cares? It’s not about courage, that’s just a title for moving forward a social message.

So courage is now another word that means absolutely nothing.

Bruce Jenner (yeah, you’re Bruce, dude) waited long enough that he would climb right over Lauren Hill’s dead body to win the award that she so obviously deserved. Waited until ESPN itself And Bruce’s (yes, you will always be Bruce, dude) response to hearing about the Espy award? The following Twitter comment:

“What the hell am I going to wear?”

It’s all about you, girl!

“She would prefer not to be called ‘Bruce,’ but told the kids that they could still call her ‘Dad,’ at least for now.”

It’s all about you, girl!

What we have here, people, is complete self-absorption, a profound myopic narcissism. I don’t think anything else can be expected of a member that represents one of the nadirs of the modern West.

The honorable thing for his to do would be to decline the honor. Hmm, any takers on a bet here? Do you think he would do that?

And lastly this little tidbit from Bruce (yes, I am going to call you Bruce forever! my parents bought those boxes of Wheaties that paid your endorsements, so it’s Bruce!) himself.

While she has undergone some cosmetic surgery as part of transitioning, she has not undergone gender confirmation surgery, but has not ruled it out either; she said that life as a woman is primarily a matter of mental state and lifestyle.[77] She said she has never been attracted to men and had exclusively been attracted to women before her transition, but currently identifies as asexual.[78][79]

I’ll just pass over the part where it clearly states that she is a DUDE. But look at the statement that life as a woman is primarily a matter of mental state and lifestyle. Well, that’s a modern take, I’ll give him that. Of course we should take the word of a M-A-N about what it means, primarily, to be a woman. Are we sure having a vagina and a womb and being able to bear life is not more primary than say, lifestyle? Is going out a buying a purse primary?

Gotta walk the dogs. Hey maybe if I come back to finish this I’ll be a woman! I won’t have to change my name though. My wife calls me Bobby so I’m set there. Ah, the courage I’ll have!