Bigtime Internet Crybaby

Have you ever read Cracked.com?  It's a site consisting of a list of lists, and while it has its moments, I feel it has committed an unforgivable crime.  While not the only offender, it is perhaps the most noteworthy.

Many of the articles (read: lists) on the site are things along the lines of "10 Most Terrifying Snakes" or "5 Cartoons That Make Me Want to Shit Myself", etc.  At first this conceit isn't so terrible; everyone bonds over things that make them uncomfortable.  Or if not, they probably should.  I imagine shared irrational fears are more revealing than shared favorite books.  But the tone of these works appears to work on a sliding scale of exponential hyperbole, in which the author expresses in the most strident manner possible how he will never sleep again and his children will be forever cursed because one time he saw a bug.

One imagines these men and women are eternally paralyzed with fear as they go through their lives, unable to take a breath without looking around first for any organic life or children's entertainment which might terrify them into a bowel-blasting fit of panic.  When did this kind of timidity burrow into the black heart of the jaded internet reader?  What person barely bats an eye at a photograph of a man distending his anus but shrieks like a tea kettle at the sight of a lotus root?

There are many other sites which seem to have taken this baby-brained wussery to heart, producing similar articles with more niche-focused content; most accidentally frightening video game characters, most upsetting breeds of dog, biggest cry-baby bitch who writes for this website.  The epidemic of chicken-shit weeping has spread over the internet.  I can understand that people are frightened of the natural world.  I get that.  I, personally, think it is an endless font of beauty, astonishment, and the closest thing to religious ecstasy I will ever experience, as an unrepentantly godless heathen.  I respect that some components of the natural world can, and will, kill me.  But this is not a source of fear for me, it is simply another facet of the aforementioned beauty/astonishment/revelation.

I'm not an idiot, of course.  If a fucking tiger was trying to take a chomp out of me, I wouldn't be telling it how graceful it looks as it savages my torso, I would be panicking and running and probably trying in vain to hit it with a stick.  And I understand that much of this hyperbole which I see in these articles is probably for humorous purposes, which is a fair and just thing to aim for.  But the frequency with which this "fuck anything that isn't shaped approximately like me/has more than four limbs/lives in the ocean" attitude recurs makes me uncomfortable.  It is not a healthy sentiment to express.

Not that these individuals limit their unbelievable crybabitude to nature and her multi-limbed progeny.  Man's works are the source of terror as well.  Old cartoons, big construction machinery, etc., etc.

I feel as if I am rambling somewhat, so I'll make my point and try to exit this posting gracefully.  My central point is that fear is the oldest and most basal emotional reaction man has to anything.  And while this emotion is fun to toy with in a controlled setting, it is not the best way to approach new situations.  Neophobia is for rodents.  It is the place of humans (and elephants, apes and dolphins) to think about and interact with new things to understand them.  Occasionally this interaction may manifest as being bitten by a spider and dying, but that is a very small price to pay for the vindication of our entire species as thinking, reasoning beings and not pants-wetting losers.

Zagaron

Argh.  It's too early, but I managed to totally forget to post something today due to a combination of baking cookies, Homestuck and Adventure Time/Regular Show anticipation.  Also probably still getting used to this whole thing as a habit.  But enough self-indulgence about me.  Because it's almost 2 am, I'll post something I wrote earlier.  I was hoping to save this for a bigger emergency post, but whatever, now my crutch is knocked out from under me.  This thing is kind of political, but mostly just satire (I guess) and I wrote it when I was very disillusioned and disappointed with the world in general.

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This essay is something very deeply personal to me.  For years now I have despaired at the powerful climate of anti-intellectualism in the world in general, and the United States in specific.  People celebrate their ignorance, believing their hateful small-mindedness brings them closer to a cold and distant deity.  Equality for all humanity is the fever-dream of the masses, publicly stated and soundly rebuffed in private.  The wealthy sacrifice hordes of the less-fortunate to supplement their extravagance; racism is disguised as fear of and concern for “illegal immigration” or “terrorist activity”.  The vital importance of the planet’s ecosystem is ignored so those who have more than enough might obtain just a bit extra, and any creature not shaped like us (and even a fair few that are) is considered either a food source or a nuisance.  I am disgusted that I must live in a world so consumed with self-interest, self-absorption, and self-righteousness.  And so, I no longer will.
 

I am returning to my home planet of Zagaron, which lies in a solar system many millions of light years away.  The planet Zagaron is populated by a species which is physically identical to human beings for reasons too complicated to go into now.  On Zagaron, everyone dresses and behaves exactly like your Old West cowboys; it is thought, by leading scientists, that your Western-themed television broadcasts (Gunsmoke et al.) were sent back in time thousands of years by a black hole and arrived on our planet in time to shape our entire culture.  Despite this cultural backlog, the inhabitants of Zagaron (we call ourselves Hooblars) are a deeply respectful and peaceful society.  Once, we were extremely wasteful and cruel; entire ecosystems were razed to recreate the dust-blown plains we saw in our ancestral telenovellas.  Species were driven to extinction in constant cattle-rustlings, dawn-lit duels, and tumbleweed races.
 

We have, however, abandoned these practices so that we may begin to heal our fragile earth.  Where once were enormous drills trying to access our planet’s rich mineral wealth of jundlebeeb crystals, now there are wildlife sanctuaries and arboretums.  Museums form the majority of our public entertainment, and though we have not forgotten our cultural tendency toward hootenannies, we now strive for a future in which no Hooblar must toil in the gaxbone fields just to earn enough tulgos to feed his family (or “shripwrast”).  We offer equality to all creatures, on Zagaron.  Desperadoes who are sexually attracted to other desperadoes have all the same rights as desperadoes who are sexually attracted to saloon-girls, just as the dark-skinned mosiers of the south have the same rights as the blue-skinned side-saddler’s of the east.
 

On Zagaron, we have done away with money.  Items are provided as needed, free of charge to anyone and everyone.  There is no poverty, just as there is no wealth.  Once, long before this revolutionary development, a Hooblar couldn’t close his or her eyes without the constant sound of stage-coach robberies and barroom brawls over card sharks keeping him from his well-deserved shut-eye.  Sure, we still have bad people.  Banditos and crooked varmints are still put in the pokey by star-badged sheriffs.  You can never totally do away with the viler nature of a society, all that can be done is to prevent it from overtaking the world.  Robber-barons no longer run our railroads and townships, trying to run settlers off their homesteads to claim the land in order to access valuable rogarth oil!  Our government is a meritocracy, where no politician is permitted to serve longer than two frimpits (approximate to your Earth-years).  Each man or woman puts the good of the public before their own for this period of service, and the rights of Hooblars are maintained.  

So I leave this missive, carved into your Earth-Moon, as a message to the greatest of you.  Do not allow the petty and the cruel to rule your world any longer; stand up and say that you want a world of equality between sexes, between races, between sexual orientations, between man and wilderness: a world where the golden chaps of office can be worn by any pilgrim.  Until this time, I must take my leave of your decreasingly verdant and beautiful world.  Perhaps, someday, I shall return.  But as I bid you adieu, I must now ride off, into the sunset.  In a spaceship.

Terrortime Movietime Recommendatory

October is one of my favorite months; mostly because it is considered socially acceptable to watch monster movies during this time of year.  By virtue of the final day of the month, an entire genre of film is invited to slither in from the cold and join us 'round the fire.  This is the annual celebration of the most basal and elementary of human drives: raving, abject terror.

And so we watch movies.  Some of these movies are very, very good, and that is why they frighten us.  Others are very, very bad, and that is why they fail to frighten us.  I could probably go on all damn day about the nature of horror movies, the place of fear in the psyche, etc, (and I probably will in a future posting, as it's something very dear to me) but that's not what this is about.  This is about me recommending good scary movies.  I'm thinking three, for now, but if I think of any (or if anyone leaves maybe a comment about their preferences) please let me know.

VISCERAL HORROR MOVIE

- John Carpenter's The Thing - 1982

Not only does this movie wholeheartedly embrace paranoia and isolation as it's preferred themes, but it gives us no shortage of loathsome, otherworldly monstrosities; bodies twisted into unbearably alien shapes, whose sole purpose is the destruction of those around them.  In the film (in case you haven't heard of it, which you should have by now), a group of men at an Antarctic research station unintentionally welcome into their midst an alien entity which either possesses or replaces some of their number (I personally find the film to be vague on this point, which is definitely a plus) and imitates them, seeming perfectly human and normal right up until the moment the imposter is discovered, at which point terrible, terrible things happen.

The twisted gore and beautifully creepy practical effects lend an atmosphere to this movie which grabs you by the guts and never quite lets go.   It's an excellent example of how CGI will never be able to replace good practical effects.  Replace the writhing and throbbing of animatronics and stop-motion abominations with the slick stumpiness of digital monsters, and I guarantee you will have weakened the film down to SyFy (god that is a stupid name) Channel Original Movie preposterousness.  What's more, despite the importance of the gruesome to the film, it still strives for decent characterization and a profound atmosphere; too many words have been wasted on Saw as is, so suffice it to say that this movie illustrates why that one doesn't work.

GOOFY HORROR MOVIE

-Geungsi Sinsang or "Mr. Vampire" - 1985

A blend of comedy, horror, and martial arts, this chimeric Hong Kong film was the first of a series which grew predictably unwieldy towards the end.  The movie is a bit difficult to decipher at some points, as it digs into Chinese folklore quite heavily, but it is still fairly enjoyable without that, as most of the major points which differentiate it from American or English vampire films are mentioned within the dialogue.  The film's central characters are the acolytes of a be-unibrowed Taoist priest (who became really the only element of this film to carry over into all of the sequels, and is considered something of a Hong Kong stock character) who have to defend a wealthy family (with requisite beautiful daughter) from the depredations of a vengeful, reanimated grandfather, while simultaneously dealing with a lascivious lady ghost, and the incompetence of the comic relief acolyte.  The titular seems to combine at varying points features of both conventional European vampire lore and traditional Chinese "jiang-shi" legendry, which lends a decently unsettling air to the beast, as even if you know the details of either one, you can't be quite sure what it will do next.

The movie has some problems that should be mentioned.  Chief among them is probably the comic relief, a central character played by a man named Ricky Hui, who was evidently a popular comedian in Hong Kong at the time.  His capering can grow a bit tiresome, but it isn't as bad as some of the adulterations future installments of the series suffered.  In addition, this being made in Hong Kong in the '80s, there were precious few regulations regarding animal cruelty: for instance, a rooster is slaughtered and drained of blood on screen, apparently a regular practice for Hong Kong films dealing with the occult.  And boy, it isn't a rubber rooster.  Rubber roosters don't struggle, and would probably have been more expensive anyway.  However, ignoring these issues (one distressingly familiar and one clearly a cultural artifact), it is still the most successful blend of three largely disparate genres which I have ever seen.

SCI-FI HORROR MOVIE (yes i know that the first one was also sci-fi, get off my back)

-Screamers - 1995

Based on a short story from Philip K. Dick (that is to say, the author of both Blade Runner and Total Recall), this particular movie refuses from the start to pull any punches.  It concerns a war between two factions, regarding a labor dispute, in which the deciding blow is struck by releasing self-propelled robotic saw-blade thingamajigs into the desert sands of the planet on which the film takes place.  I feel that I can't say much more than this without spoiling it, so I'll suffice to say that it has some powerfully chilling moments, is honestly full of surprises, and probably falls between Blade Runner and Total Recall on the quality spectrum.  It also stars the dude from Robocop, which may or may not be a plus to you.

I feel like I may be selling this movie short by not describing it better, but as I said, the twists and turns of its plot are simply too excellent to spoil for anyone who hasn't seen it.  The less I say, the better, so I suppose I can only recommend that you get out there and grab it from either the failing chain video store nearest you, or preferably, from the weird little mom-and-pop video store.  Or I guess Netflix, whatever.

So these are three pretty good movies, in three completely different ways.  Again, I could go on all damn day about horror as a genre, but for now I figure I'll shut the fuck up about it.  Just remember that this is a month for scary shit, so grab a good thick blanket (to prevent bogeymen), plant your back firmly against a wall (so no-one can sneak up behind you...except I guess a ghost) and watch some movie which claims to make you urinate in your clothes.  If it succeeds, well, that's why showers were invented.  In which case, I hope the movie you selected wasn't Psycho.

pictures courtesy of wikipedia/wikimedia commons/whatever

The Best Slang

So there's an official "Talk Like A Pirate Day".  Most people are aware of this.  I am not endeavoring to call anyone's attention to this in the form of a rallying cry of how great and/or terrible it is.  I merely feel that, perhaps, it is not that compelling a form of manufactured/outdated slang to celebrate in such a fashion.  Beyond the standard interjection of "Arr", the various folksy re-christenings of items (money to "booty", any beverage to "rum" or "grog", etc.) and some particularly cliched stock phrases relating to both the aforementioned rum and booty, there isn't terribly much flexibility inherent in the dialect.  Much of this comes from its chronologically remote origins and rather subculturally specific focus.

While I certainly love absolutely anything which both encourages knowledge of the esoteric and abject absurdity, I feel that the attention lavished upon nautical gibbering could best be focused on alternative forms of making oneself look and feel like a complete berk in the most fun way possible.  So I suppose, this long-winded preamble aside, the real meat of this idea is in listing some better alternatives.

• Cockney Rhyming Slang

Possibly the most confusing slang available.  There is a complex method for creating a unit of rhyming slang, that is perhaps better illustrated than described.  Let's do one together!  For instance, say you wish to call someone a "fuck".  Firstly, you find a phrase (preferably two or three words) which shares an end-rhyme with the desired word; for instance, "fuck" can rhyme quite neatly with "press your luck".  Now that you have such a phrase, you simply omit the part of it that actually frigging rhymes, in this case, the "your luck" component.  So, instead of clearly referring to the object of your distaste as "that stupid fuck", you can call them "that stupid press".  Not only will they not understand what you're saying, but likely no-one else will either.

Of course, that's just what happens when you invent your own rhyming slang phrase.  Existing Cockney rhyming slang relies upon an extensive established lexicon of such...uh...let's say "extracted rhymes".  That's a good phrase.  For instance, earlier in this very post I used the word "berk", a fairly common British pejorative and a clear symptom of my own formative years spent reading Terry Pratchett and watching Monty Python.  It wasn't until I thought to check ol' Wikeepedia that I discovered berk was a piece of wonderfully vulgar rhyming slang.  You see, the world "berk" refers to the "Berkeley Hunt", a big traditional British fox hunt.  Hunt, of course, rhymes with the extremely offensive term "cunt", and so "Berkeley Hunt" was used as a rhyming slang for this by shortening it to the innocuous "berk".  It's like playing an etymological version of Seven Degrees of Kevin Bacon.

Some good rhyming slang terms:
- apples - from "apples and pears" - meaning "stairs"
- boat - from "boat race" - meaning "face"
- "have a butcher's" - from "butcher's hook" - meaning "look"
- richard - from "Richard the Third" - meaning "turd"

source: http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/cockney-rhyming-slang.html

• 1920's Gangster Slang

It is important to note that, while actually gangsters in the 1920's were likely to be exactly as foul-mouthed as the modern X-Box Live playing racist, homophobic teenager, the words that they (and teenagers) used were not considered appropriate for polite audiences for many decades.  As a result, when movies were made concerning these bootleggers and leg-breakers, certain Bowdlerizations were necessary.  That isn't to say that this particular branch of American slang was composed out of whole cloth by film writers and pulp novel authors; certainly many of the same phrases were actually uttered in the speakeasies and dives of the Roaring Twenties.  I just make the argument that the words "fuck", "bitch" and "ass" have been around a very long time, and anyone who would happily fill you with daylight via his Chicago Typewriter wouldn't turn up his nose at colorful language.

That being said, of course, does not mean that the peculiar turns of phrase are any less fun.  Not only do you feel particularly hard-boiled, but as is the goal of most such dialects, no-one is going to have any goddamn idea what you're talking about.  I recently had the fortune of finding an enormous list of 1920's gangster slang words and phrases which had been posted online.  I'll link it at the bottom of this section, but meanwhile, I'll call out a couple which are particularly enjoyable.

Authentic Gangster Slang:
-glad rags - fancy clothes
-elbows - police
-hooker - a drink
-lettuce - dollar dollar bill y'all

source: http://www.leepresson.com/slang/gslang.html

Hm.  I had originally meant to list more than this, but I guess there aren't as many slang varieties that catch my fancy as I had originally thought.  Either way, using these is certainly more fun, and more culturally cohesive, than the whole pirate thing.  Which I think was my original point; that was a bunch of words ago and I don't fully remember.

If you think of any particularly rad slang varieties, let me know in the comment box whatchadidja.

Inauguration

Out of a misguided sense of both my own personal worth and the overall interest that the outside world would have in my twisted miscreations and aimless musings, I have establish an "internet web log", or "bog".  On this bog I will probably be posting the following:

• Uh
• I dunno
• Short stories
• Articles
• Miscellaneous scraps of stuff I write
• Some pages from a webcomic I'd like to get off the ground but haven't worked on enough to justify getting an actual website for
• Random sketchin's and scribblin's
• Information about things that I think are cool but everybody else probably thinks aren't
• Boxes; all shapes, all sizes, from cardboard to plywood.  All kinds of boxes.
• Biology stuff, politics stuff (maybe?), movie stuff, TV stuff, internet stuff
• Hopefully not anything composed in a fit of rage or depression but hey I can't make any promises dawg
• Bulleted lists of stuff I intend to post on my bolg

Other than that I'm not sure what else I would post, seeing as how that list probably encompasses everything anyone could ever post about anything.  I hold no illusions about my prospects concerning internet Big Dollar Money, but hey maybe the Google ads will help bring in some scratch.

Also hello to anyone who knows me in any real world capacity and reads this.  You are a good friend for bothering to suss out my incomprehensible meanings through this internet cyber journal.  Cyblog.  Journointerlob.

I think that perhaps my penchant for portmanteau (penchantereau) is bordering on the pathological (pathologortmantereau).