This is crap.

The man was tall, no doubt about that. He was tall and lank, looked almost like the popular representation of Abe Lincoln. He even had a tall hat. Tall legs too. A child s standing next to him. What this child is doing here is anyone’s guess. Yes, anyone’s. Does he have any purpose in this story? We don’t know. Let’s find out. The child is tubby, probably has asthma or some other disease of the lungs which complicates his ability to physically act. The tall man’s name is Steve.

The child looked up to the tall man, a sliver of drool leaking down his double-chin.

“You know,” said the tall man.

“I know?” said the child.

“Do you know how the phrase ‘still-born’ came about?”

“I reckon’ I don’t, sir.”

“Of course you reckon’. Don’t we all reckon’?” A pause. Silence. “Well, once, long ago, there was this woman whose beauty surpassed all that is surpassable. 99.9% of the men in her village pawed after her like, I don’t know, paws, and all the women envied her beauty and stuff. The problem with all of this was that she was an abstinent woman. At least until she got raped one day on her way to the Kwik-e-Stop.”

“They have Kwik-e’s in villages?”

“Be quiet! The rapist forgot to use a condom and she had forgotten to take the pill. Why an abstinent woman needs birth control, I’ll never know. Well, the rapist impregnated her.”

“I don’t understand...”

“I’m not finished yet, impatient child!” He took out a pipe, lit it, threw it at a passing squirrel. “The woman grew heavy with each passing month. She thought she was getting fat. So, she stopped eating, went on a diet, exercised three hours every day. Of course, that didn’t help anything.”

“Why not?”

A stern stare. Continuance. “She grew lean. Poor child didn’t even understand what was happening to her. She was so young, so young. I think she was 90. I’m not sure. Don’t quote me on that. Well, when the baby was finally ready to burst out of her like slf-loathing from a lecher, she didn’t know what to do. Didn’t even know what a baby was, poor girl. Abortion wasn’t an option for her. Her parents were Catholic. They took her to the local hospital, and in those times the local hospital was the squishy herbalist’s house.” He stuck out his tongue and kicked a puppy into a garbage can. “The herbalist knew next to nothing about birthing a child. Huh, what is next to nothing? Of course, we could never know, but it’s an interesting question to posit. Anyway, when the baby was born, it was strangled by the umbilical cord. But, it was still born. Hence “still-born”. Not the best story, is it?”

The man stuck his tongue out at the child, who was probably traumatized. Who cares?

Disturbing Video #do you even care?

An Atheist's God

The life of the scientist was extinguished by the giant amoeba he had created in his lab (whose name was Spoogey). He was now floating inside a little pink bubble, much like that one bitch from The Wizard of Oz. He didn’t know where he was floating to. He felt like he was on some major drugs as the bubble flew over a bunch of mushrooms with what appeared to be a squat plumber jumping over them. Trippy, he thought. The bubble came to a rest on a giant cloud and unceremoniously popped, flopping him on the ground like some sort of fish-thing.

As he propped himself up, he witnessed a beautiful site, the pearly/ashen gates of Heaven (neat, huh?). He limped over to the gates and knocked on their pearly/ashen awesomeness. The gates squeaked open like the bones of some old man thing, and he slowly walked inside. A giant gelatinous marshmallow greeted him. It’s name was God, as evidence by the name tag on its gelatinous exterior. “Congratulations, you’re in heaven!” the marshmallow-thing said.

“Really?” said the scientist. “But I’m an atheist.”

“Exactly!”

“What? I’m confused.”

“Oh, I only let those who are logical enough to not believe in me go to Heaven,” God said, as he chomped down on a chicken leg.

“Wait, so I was wrong?”

“Yep!”

“So logic didn’t help much.”

“Yes it did! You’re in Heaven, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but I was wrong.”

“So? You were logical and that’s all that matters!”

“But logic has failed me! Don’t you see?! How can I, a scientist, be wrong?

“Will you shut up already? You're in ultimate paradise! Now be happy!”

“Logic has failed me! WHY?! WHY?!” he shouted, limbs flailing about as if he’d gone mad.

“OK, fuck you, you’re going to Hell.” A giant hole opened up in the cloud and the scientist fell, screaming like a chihuahua. “Alright, who’s next?” said God.

Dream #4 (In Story Form!)

I was on some sort of field, either a soccer or football field. I'm not sure which. Probably soccer. Anyway, there was a big crowd, and a man was running toward me with a knife. He caught me, cut my right ear off, and then slit my belly, disemboweling me. I blacked out after that. When I came to, I was on my parents' couch, holding my intestines in my hands. I got up from the couch, feeling like a disemboweled person who's had their right ear cut off, and carefully walked to the kitchen, calling for my parents. For some reason they, or anyone else, hadn't thought to take me to the hospital or something. I laid my burdensome intestines on the glass table while I pleaded with my parents to take me to the hospital. They agreed. I was worried that my SO (Significant Other, for those of you who are less knowledgeable of abbreviations) would think I was dead or something, so I started crafting a text message to him, but I was interrupted by my parents who were dragging me to the car, suddenly worried about my health. I continued writing the text message while they were driving, but never sent it for some reason. My parents were talking about what hospital they were going to take me to, and my mom said something like "We're not taking you to Wesley, we're taking you to a real hospital." Apparently she was still upset about her recent stint at Wesley, where she received subpar treatment or something. They told me they were taking me to an Oklahoma hospital, and they kept driving. We arrived at a gigantic, deserted parking lot in front of gigantic, foreboding gates. We got out of the car and walked to the gates with me dragging my intestines (I feel I need to emphasize the intestine-dragging), and entered the gates into what appeared to be some sort of pagoda city; the things were everywhere. A path wound through this bizarre architectural hell which we started down. All around us people were milling about, apparently with nothing better to do. I overheard some of them conversing (yes, it's conversing, Mr. Ens) about me. "Did you hear about what happened to Alex?" "Yeah, I heard he's dead or somewhat." "I's a shame, that." None of them seemed to notice that I was right fucking there. You'd think they'd notice someone with a missing ear, dragging his intestines around. When we reached the end of the path, we found ourselves being dwarfed by an immense pagoda palace thingy with stairs leading to the top where a throne stood, and on that throne, I shit you not, sat Pamela Anderson. At this point I was wondering why the hell we were here. We ascended the stairs and Pamela greeted us with extended arms, marveling that I was alive, and asked how I was. I told her, "Well, my guts are hanging out and I'm missing an ear, but yeah I feel O.K." My parents asked her which hospital they should take me to, and she never really gave a clear answer. We left after awhile and got back in the car. My parents started arguing about something and that's when I woke up.

Disturbing Video #3

Breathing Competition

The spotlights all focus on the twelve contestants as they exit from behind the curtain and line up on the floor, all facing the moderator, who is standing on a dais and rather surprisingly looks nothing at all like Ryan Seacrest, but more like Dustin Hoffman with a severe heroine addiction. The spotlights now converge on the nameless moderator who then announces his name as Bill Osmo (good name for a moderator; short and easy to remember, which is one factor the TV shows consider in determining who they hire for their moderator. I doubt Mr. Seacrest would have gotten his job at American Idol if his name was Flangly Blingblam, but I digress) and he addresses the live studio audience in a voice somewhat reminiscent of a P.E. teacher’s, but not as harsh or strained from overuse. He introduces us to the general idea of the show (cleverly entitled “Down Your Neck”), which is pitting random homeless and/or bored and/or stupid people from the street in a competition of breathing. The contestant who can breathe the best is awarded a thousand and sixty-four dollars in check form, and the losing contestants get these adorable rubber duckies with the faces of popular U.S. presidents who have been rendered with inexplicably large foreheads in an attempt to make them look somewhat comical but really come off as looking incredibly creepy, which is why I like them and would prefer them to the thousand and sixty-four dollar check, but that’s just me.

Several crew members come out from behind the curtains and equip the guests with these machines that kinda look like scuba gear, the purpose of which must be to determine which contestant is breathing the best according to some predetermined scale of breathing. When the contestants all look comfy in their scuba-mask-things, the moderator yells, “Let’s get this show on!” which sounds rather lame for a TV host. You’d think they could come up with something less lame, wouldn’t you? Oh well. The moderator now briskly turns to face the contestants. The roar of the audience accompanies the spotlights as they turn towards the contestants as well. The Contestants wait for the moderator to start the competition. The moderator pauses, watching the audience with all their beady little eyes, like little chihuahuas’ eyes only creepier because they’re human and stuff. “Go!” the moderator shouts, giving the contestants a jump as they start breathing. There are cameraman all over the floor, getting close-ups of that breathing action. Yes, it’s very exciting.

About half an hour has passed. The audience is still on the edge of their plastic seats. Suddenly, but not quite suddenly enough to be considered sudden by, say, Spiderman, an audience member yells, “He’s wheezing! He’s wheezing!” while pointing franticly at the contestant on the far right who is indeed wheezing. Maybe he has asthma. I’m not sure. Posit a guess? No? Alright then. The wheezing contestant continues wheezing and the audience settles down again.

Five minutes have passed. The wheezing contestant is still wheezing, though it’s more pronounced, and he appears to be sweating vigorously.

Another five minutes have passed. The wheezing contestant is doing very freaky things. I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with him. He’s flailing his arms and feet about wildly, panting and sweating buckets. The other contestants have stopped breathing and are now stepping away from him. I don’t know why the crew members haven’t taken him away and given him some medical attention. Maybe they’re scared. Maybe they want this spectacle to continue. I hope they do soon. That guy don’t look too good.

Three minutes have passed. Oh God. That contestant’s head appears to have mutated into some sort of alien proboscis with teeth. He’s jumping on the moderator’s dais. He’s eating the moderator’s head. My word, this is fucked up. I’m leaving now.

Coraline: A Movie Review

Hello ladies and gentleman, time for another movie review. As you can see this review is over the stop-motion film Coraline. When we are first introduced to Coraline she is moving into Pink Palace Apartments with her parents. Shortly after her arrival she meets a weird boy, named Wybie, and his cat. Wybie's grandmother owns Pink Palace Apartments but forbids him to enter the property. Wybie ends up giving Coraline a little doll that holds striking resemblance to her.

One day while exploring her house she comes across a small door in the living room that is locked. Once she opens the doors she is only greeted with brick. That night Coraline is awoken by a small mouse, and she chases it down to the living room where the mouse escapes through the little door (huh???). Obviously Coraline follows, and she ends up in some weird parallel universe. She ends up meeting these two people who call themselves her Other Parents. They have buttons for eyes though. Strange....After having a jolly old time there she goes to bed, but wakes up in her own universe. From that point she visits her other parents every night. Evetually it gets to the point where the Other Mother says Coraline can stay if she allows her to sew buttons over her eyes.Coraline goes to bed hoping she ends up back home, but is still in the Other World. Eventually the Other Wybie helps her escape and she comes back to an empty home (oh noes!). These rest of the movie deals with Coraline's attempt at trying to get her real parents back.

Overall, I love this movie. I thought in the beginning I would lose interest, but it started to grow on me. I thought Coraline was a bit of a smartass and if I had been her parents I would constantly been popping her in the mouth. She was kind of funny though. There are two sets of other characters you're introduced to. Mr. Bobinsky the neighbor from upstairs is a Russian gymnast who has to have one of the most unproportional bodies I have ever seen. He had little jumping mice that he was trying to train for the circue. Then there were to older ladies who lived downstairs named Miss Spink and Miss Forcible, who are retired actresses. I found these two quite amusing because they had tons of stuffed Scotty dogs up on a shelf because they don't like giving them up when they die. They also have a large collection of a hundred old taffy. I forgot which one it was, but one of them had ginormous boobs! In the Other World when they are performing a musical [I guess] the big boobed old lady was dressed up like Aphrodite. It was pretty gross because she had a jeweled thong and then jeweled pasties for her tah-tahs lulz.

The cat was pretty cool too because he talked in the Other World. He sounded really suave. The Other Mother was pretty freaky because she was actually a spider. I'm not sure how spiders fit in with people with button eyes though...But yeah, good film. I'm just annoyed because Coraline is going to become another big hit in Hot Topic and you're going to have all the lame mall "gawfs" buying up all the stuff just like they did for Sweeny Todd, Nightmare Before Christmas, and Pirates. Laaaame.