Tonight was your show, dear boy. You were the featured guest on Creature Feature. It went well, you represented your organization well and even handled yourself with one liners and timing. Well done, dear boy. I bow to your place as the guest with respect.
Pint Sized Tyrant and I called in to engage you in conversation, and Executrix and Tiny Terror were wonderful hosts. Truth be told, had you not been scheduled to be on the show, I may not have joined otherwise. But it went well. Also, I was prepared for things to be less civil and more heated than it was, but it would seem that decorum shows that we CAN be civil to one another. A pleasant surprise.
I didn't expect however to seemingly steal the show. It would seem that several people on the show were taken by me. It was also a chance to level the field, now both of us have voices to use as templates as we read each other's words. The seeming attention doted upon me for my vocal tones and mimicry was a pleasant surprise. I also noticed the racial jibe and bait thrown out there. Clever, but shot down like clay pigeons.
'Twas a shame you had to retire early, my boy. It was also surprising to hear how people were seemingly becoming SEDUCED by my voice! I appreciate the compliments, even if I do not reciprocate the passions. It was also a surprise that at the end, I was thanked before you! Not my attention, I assure you. But perhaps I will call in again in the future, and we can continue our jousts should it be desired. The show was pleasant, it's been some time since I engaged in a broadcast roundtable.
Before attempting to retire before morning, I have a few things I'd like to say to help purge the adrenaline of tonight. You brought up a wonderful point in the history of Krampus, and the declaration of having no fear for not being a child was well done. But as I was interrupted by requests of my talents, I was unable to continue my tale. As I said, the Nazis engaged in looking into the occult. Part of the lost tale of Krampus was, the Nazis did in fact try to use the name of Krampus to frighten their enemies, while being wicked themselves. So Krampus engaged them in bloody, glorious combat. However, the lost tale is that in their practice, were able to temporarily contain Krampus, locking him away before punishing the slayers of the six million. Adolph as a child was missed, and should have been rectified. As Krampus Nacht grew into Krampus Nights, the followers sustained Krampus, growing in power, until fate and fortune allowed Krampus to be released. Now, there is much to make up for in the way of lost time. So in the past, Krampus went after the wicked child and women of loose morality. But the children grew into monsters, villains, terrors. The spoiled grew to throw parties and those that arrive with no gifts are seen as socially inept. Those on the Naughty list are rewarded? This is against the natural order. So now, the adults are also within the visions and ears of Krampus. There are no age limits in the twenty-first century. Time will tell if the scales will be balanced within a single lifetime.
And you've revealed some sensitive truths of yourself tonight, attraction to my voice aside. I can begin to see why some might grasp at straws of racial prejudice in past statements, but I wish to make this clear. I will NEVER hate you or another for race, skin tone, facial features, genealogy, religion, family or heritage. I have other reasons to do so by word and deed, by action and patterns perceived. Especially when the sites are targeting those I feel closest to. And unlike others in our circles who like to edit and hide away the truth(by the way, thanks for approving on the nickname 'Menstruating Mudworm' on air tonight, do you think it will catch on?), my posts remain, as I am resolute in my belief that only an idiot would have reacted as some have to my words. Grasping at straws, claiming malice where none could clearly be. There was no prejudice in my words, nor their intended targets. But they did make for quite the bait in reactions, didn't they? And you took it, as well as Mr. Menstruating. Something inflammatory and discerned to be threatening to invoke a reaction. We're both guilty of that. And I don't hide the fact. But, we were able to move past that tonight I believe. Or at least not to target each other's threats on air. I never expected the seduction though. I will agree with your stance on Psycho Anus the Rapist, the attention isn't reciprocated. No means no!
When it comes to perceived threats against those I care for, I am capable of terrible reprisals to defend them. Say what you will of me, but against those I care for and they me? Far worse. It would be the same feeling if someone said something about your lovely wife and family. That feeling in your gut, the growing desire to snatch the tongue from the head of anyone saying a word against them? I feel the same for my clan, biological and extended. And they were threatened earlier this year. We both feel strongly for those we care for. You for yours and ROACH, I for my people. We're both capable of civility and carnage in the defense for our territories. I am not apologizing nor asking for one. But tonight, we were able to speak on civil terms, in witness of the aether of the internet, and the growing audience for a show featuring you as a guest. You should be proud.
I STILL will NEVER fuck you, though. I know, maybe I'm a tease. Deal with it.
Until next time, Auf Wiedersehen, and may your nightmares remind you how wonderful it feels to be alive, much like tonight was,
Krampus
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
The Death(s) of(in) Reality TV
*sigh* Who does one have to mutilate to get a good season's hibernation 'round here? Krampus was prepared to turn in after the summer's fracas, and sleep may yet come. But much like Keith and Monty Colburn aboard the Wizard, my roommate knew this was one blood soaked walrus herd I'd have been enraged if missed. And oh, what a bloody herd it is.
Given my interest in Schadenfreude, it's suffice to say that reality television has been a ripe harvest waiting to happen. People nearly drowning on game shows and suffering permanent damage, brawls captured on digital media, it's a veritable on the same tracks multiple train wreck waiting to happen in full, glorious bloody color. And all it would take would be the weight of multiple tragedies, or one large one, to silence the rampant 'reality'. Has that finality finally occurred? Time will tell, but this is a veritable mudshow circus of sex and gore!
VH1's rampant recycling of reality show contestants can occasionally bring forth entertainment. Let us look at Megan Hauserman, if only briefly. A woman getting her reality's first injection on Beauty and the Geek, she moved on, unable to find love on Rock of Love, the hard rock's version of Flavor of Love only without the roast on Comedy Central. Then showing that she's more than a bikini on I Love Money by showing the epitome of manipulative women showing cunning, intelligence beyond her exterior and mentally challenged dog, failed to win the prize when confronted by the peers she helped to eliminate. Then on Rock of Love Charm School, Megan went onto boast that her most lucrative goal for her future would be to play the role of trophy wife for a rich man. She also acted a drunken mess, daring to belittle Sharon Osbourne's family at the reunion show, resulting in a drink thrown all over her. A hot, wet mess that her friend Brandi C. seemed to see coming.
So Megan, in her own charm and VH1's need to milk ratings like hungry fingers in a hospital's enlarged prostate ward, managed to get her own show originally titled Megan Hauserman: Trophy Wife, renamed Megan Wants a Millionaire. I can't help but laugh at how closely Megan may have dodged a bullet, or a strangulation and mutilation and becoming a trophy for a killer. You see, one of the respective millionaires on the show was Ryan Alexander Jenkins, dubbed the 'smooth operator'. It's said that he actually made it into the top three on the show. Oh, spoiler alert. But a funny thing happened to bring the wrong publicity to the show.
At first, when Ryan's freshly married then annulled ex-wife Jasmine Fiore's body was found naked, in a suitcase and in a dumpster, he was wanted for questioning. Then when more details came out, he was a full fledged suspect. You see, no one could immediately tell it was Jasmine. Whoever strangled her also cut her fingers off, and pulled her teeth out to prevent identification! Isn't that fucking meticulous? A crime of passion is one thing. But to sever each finger, and pull out 32 teeth out of a woman's dead head? I wonder if the body's eyes were still open at the time? Could you imagine someone mutilating a body with those vacant eyes staring up at you?
Here comes the part that can only be made in glamour and beauty obsessed Hollywood and Vegas. Do you know how they identified the body? By comparing the serial number on her breast implants! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! Oh, that tickles me in dark places. So Ryan Jenkins, no relation to Leeroy Jenkins I'm sure...but how funny would that be if they were? As he lunges for her throat, screaming:
"All right bitch, let's do this! RYAAAAAAAAN....JEEENNKINNNSSSSS!!!!"
Hehehehe, you simply have to appreciate the humor in all this. Apparently Ryan and Jasmine were last seen together and she alive in a hotel in San Diego. That's right, San Diego. And people have the gall to wonder why I became so defensive of potential sociopaths in vicinity of my friends. And you know, they have yet to find her car, her fingers or her teeth. What happened to them? Were they thrown away, ground up, given to dogs or other animals to feast upon? Or maybe the local cannibal union had finger sandwiches, or dipped them in chocolate for ladyfingers. Teeth aside for making some child a mint from the tooth fairy, where is the car and fingers? Will someone's stomach have to be pumped to recover evidence?
Later, Ryan was found in a dive of a hotel in Calgary, supposedly paid for by a mysterious woman. Was it an old friend of Ryan's? Megan? Maybe the Tooth Fairy? Who knows. But the manhunt ended when Ryan was found, a victim of apparent suicide, hanging by a coat rack by his belt. What is it with sociopathic Canucks anyway? First Benoit and his family, now this. No resolution or trial for closure, no, these selfish afterbirths belched from bleeding cunts leave the justice system hanging. Like David Carradine without the happy ending.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! Oh come now, that was a good one!
You see, THIS is the kind of monster, the type of mind hiding behind smiles and charms, of a facade while the true monster rises underneath that attracts Krampus. These kinds of late term abortions that could have been are the kind to beware. Krampus must catch up on lost time in the future. But now, the show Megan Wants a Millionaire, of which I swore not to watch out of principal and fear of my eyes vomiting from the ridiculous, and I Love Money 3 which Ryan also filmed, has been cancelled. So now the poor soul who actually DID win that show will never receive their payment they have earned. One man, a horrific crime, two shows destroyed. Should we give him a medal posthumously? No, of course not. But we may be looking at the single largest trigger event to see what happens to reality television. Time will tell.
In the meantime, out of respect to the family of Ms. Fiore, the shows featuring Ryan will be pulled from air. But you know, one can't help but look at the greater size of the scale. Was there an accomplice that helped Ryan, and he ran out of suspicion? What happened to the car, fingers and teeth? Who actually removed them? Did the mystery accomplice actually dispose of Ryan and make it look like suicide? Ryan's family insist that Ryan wasn't the man who did this, or he became involved with the wrong crowd. Who knows. But this is not over, ladies and gentlemen. Someone will no doubt sell the rights to this story and we'll see a prime time made for tv movie about all this in the future. From reality to prime time! And I also can't help but appreciate the mystery and potential supernatural aspects of this story. From a glance, it would appear that Ryan became possessed, committed this heinous act, became conscious of it and paid the price for what 'he' had done. It sounds like something we'd see the Winchester boys investigating Thursday nights in the fall.
One thing is for certain, this should affect the outcome of reailty and celebreality television in the future. Tighter background checks, stronger anti-violence guidelines, perhaps an elimination of the more cost-effective shows altogether. Perhaps not. In the meantime, families mourn, potential victims go on anti-anxiety medication, and their television careers remain in limbo. All while people actually would tune in to watch the now canceled shows just to play armchair detective, looking for signs of Ryan's mania in editing. Don't get me wrong, I agree that what happened to Jasmine is a tragedy. The kind that Krampus exists to confront. But since I don't know her, and all this comes from the aether of digital broadcast and the internet, at least I can find entertainment in the story. Just like everyone else. But I have the courage to admit it aloud.
I feel a compulsion to share some of the lyrics to a wonderful song by Tool. It's called Vicarious. I dedicate this to the cowards that live as the song suggests, playing voyeur and jury, but have difficulty in seeing the entire show due to the vantage point within the closet they peek from. I suppose it's hard to get a flat screen into the same area where your winter clothes are.
Eye on the TV
Cause tragedy thrills me
Whatever flavor
It happens to be
Like:
"Killed by the husband"
"Drowned by the ocean"
"Shot by his own son"
"She used a poison in his tea
And kissed him goodbye"
That's my kind of story.
It's no fun 'til someone dies
Don't look at me like
I am a monster
Frown out your one face
But with the other
Stare like a junkie
Into the TV
Stare like a zombie
While the mother holds her child,
Watches him die
Hands to the sky crying,
"Why, oh why!"
Cause I need to watch things die
From a distance
Vicariously, I
Live while the whole world dies
You all need it too - don't lie.
Why can't we just admit it?
Why can't we just admit it?
We won't give pause until the blood is flowin'
Neither the brave nor bold
Will write as the stories told
We won't give pause until the blood is flowin'
I need to watch things die
From a good safe distance
Vicariously, I
Live while the whole world dies
You all feel the same so
Why can't we just admit it
Blood like rain, come down
Drum on grave and ground
Part vampire
Part warrior
Carnivore and voyeur
Stare at the transmitter
Synched to the death rattle...
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la-lie
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la-lie
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la-lie
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la-lie
Credulous at best your desire to believe in
Angels in the hearts of men
Pull your head on out
Your hippy beliefs and give a listen
Shouldn't have to say it all again
The universe is hostile
So impersonal
Devour to survive
So it is, so it's always been...
We all feed on tragedy
It's like blood to a vampire
Vicariously, I
Live while the whole world dies
Much better you than I.
Given my interest in Schadenfreude, it's suffice to say that reality television has been a ripe harvest waiting to happen. People nearly drowning on game shows and suffering permanent damage, brawls captured on digital media, it's a veritable on the same tracks multiple train wreck waiting to happen in full, glorious bloody color. And all it would take would be the weight of multiple tragedies, or one large one, to silence the rampant 'reality'. Has that finality finally occurred? Time will tell, but this is a veritable mudshow circus of sex and gore!
VH1's rampant recycling of reality show contestants can occasionally bring forth entertainment. Let us look at Megan Hauserman, if only briefly. A woman getting her reality's first injection on Beauty and the Geek, she moved on, unable to find love on Rock of Love, the hard rock's version of Flavor of Love only without the roast on Comedy Central. Then showing that she's more than a bikini on I Love Money by showing the epitome of manipulative women showing cunning, intelligence beyond her exterior and mentally challenged dog, failed to win the prize when confronted by the peers she helped to eliminate. Then on Rock of Love Charm School, Megan went onto boast that her most lucrative goal for her future would be to play the role of trophy wife for a rich man. She also acted a drunken mess, daring to belittle Sharon Osbourne's family at the reunion show, resulting in a drink thrown all over her. A hot, wet mess that her friend Brandi C. seemed to see coming.
So Megan, in her own charm and VH1's need to milk ratings like hungry fingers in a hospital's enlarged prostate ward, managed to get her own show originally titled Megan Hauserman: Trophy Wife, renamed Megan Wants a Millionaire. I can't help but laugh at how closely Megan may have dodged a bullet, or a strangulation and mutilation and becoming a trophy for a killer. You see, one of the respective millionaires on the show was Ryan Alexander Jenkins, dubbed the 'smooth operator'. It's said that he actually made it into the top three on the show. Oh, spoiler alert. But a funny thing happened to bring the wrong publicity to the show.
At first, when Ryan's freshly married then annulled ex-wife Jasmine Fiore's body was found naked, in a suitcase and in a dumpster, he was wanted for questioning. Then when more details came out, he was a full fledged suspect. You see, no one could immediately tell it was Jasmine. Whoever strangled her also cut her fingers off, and pulled her teeth out to prevent identification! Isn't that fucking meticulous? A crime of passion is one thing. But to sever each finger, and pull out 32 teeth out of a woman's dead head? I wonder if the body's eyes were still open at the time? Could you imagine someone mutilating a body with those vacant eyes staring up at you?
Here comes the part that can only be made in glamour and beauty obsessed Hollywood and Vegas. Do you know how they identified the body? By comparing the serial number on her breast implants! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! Oh, that tickles me in dark places. So Ryan Jenkins, no relation to Leeroy Jenkins I'm sure...but how funny would that be if they were? As he lunges for her throat, screaming:
"All right bitch, let's do this! RYAAAAAAAAN....JEEENNKINNNSSSSS!!!!"
Hehehehe, you simply have to appreciate the humor in all this. Apparently Ryan and Jasmine were last seen together and she alive in a hotel in San Diego. That's right, San Diego. And people have the gall to wonder why I became so defensive of potential sociopaths in vicinity of my friends. And you know, they have yet to find her car, her fingers or her teeth. What happened to them? Were they thrown away, ground up, given to dogs or other animals to feast upon? Or maybe the local cannibal union had finger sandwiches, or dipped them in chocolate for ladyfingers. Teeth aside for making some child a mint from the tooth fairy, where is the car and fingers? Will someone's stomach have to be pumped to recover evidence?
Later, Ryan was found in a dive of a hotel in Calgary, supposedly paid for by a mysterious woman. Was it an old friend of Ryan's? Megan? Maybe the Tooth Fairy? Who knows. But the manhunt ended when Ryan was found, a victim of apparent suicide, hanging by a coat rack by his belt. What is it with sociopathic Canucks anyway? First Benoit and his family, now this. No resolution or trial for closure, no, these selfish afterbirths belched from bleeding cunts leave the justice system hanging. Like David Carradine without the happy ending.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! Oh come now, that was a good one!
You see, THIS is the kind of monster, the type of mind hiding behind smiles and charms, of a facade while the true monster rises underneath that attracts Krampus. These kinds of late term abortions that could have been are the kind to beware. Krampus must catch up on lost time in the future. But now, the show Megan Wants a Millionaire, of which I swore not to watch out of principal and fear of my eyes vomiting from the ridiculous, and I Love Money 3 which Ryan also filmed, has been cancelled. So now the poor soul who actually DID win that show will never receive their payment they have earned. One man, a horrific crime, two shows destroyed. Should we give him a medal posthumously? No, of course not. But we may be looking at the single largest trigger event to see what happens to reality television. Time will tell.
In the meantime, out of respect to the family of Ms. Fiore, the shows featuring Ryan will be pulled from air. But you know, one can't help but look at the greater size of the scale. Was there an accomplice that helped Ryan, and he ran out of suspicion? What happened to the car, fingers and teeth? Who actually removed them? Did the mystery accomplice actually dispose of Ryan and make it look like suicide? Ryan's family insist that Ryan wasn't the man who did this, or he became involved with the wrong crowd. Who knows. But this is not over, ladies and gentlemen. Someone will no doubt sell the rights to this story and we'll see a prime time made for tv movie about all this in the future. From reality to prime time! And I also can't help but appreciate the mystery and potential supernatural aspects of this story. From a glance, it would appear that Ryan became possessed, committed this heinous act, became conscious of it and paid the price for what 'he' had done. It sounds like something we'd see the Winchester boys investigating Thursday nights in the fall.
One thing is for certain, this should affect the outcome of reailty and celebreality television in the future. Tighter background checks, stronger anti-violence guidelines, perhaps an elimination of the more cost-effective shows altogether. Perhaps not. In the meantime, families mourn, potential victims go on anti-anxiety medication, and their television careers remain in limbo. All while people actually would tune in to watch the now canceled shows just to play armchair detective, looking for signs of Ryan's mania in editing. Don't get me wrong, I agree that what happened to Jasmine is a tragedy. The kind that Krampus exists to confront. But since I don't know her, and all this comes from the aether of digital broadcast and the internet, at least I can find entertainment in the story. Just like everyone else. But I have the courage to admit it aloud.
I feel a compulsion to share some of the lyrics to a wonderful song by Tool. It's called Vicarious. I dedicate this to the cowards that live as the song suggests, playing voyeur and jury, but have difficulty in seeing the entire show due to the vantage point within the closet they peek from. I suppose it's hard to get a flat screen into the same area where your winter clothes are.
Eye on the TV
Cause tragedy thrills me
Whatever flavor
It happens to be
Like:
"Killed by the husband"
"Drowned by the ocean"
"Shot by his own son"
"She used a poison in his tea
And kissed him goodbye"
That's my kind of story.
It's no fun 'til someone dies
Don't look at me like
I am a monster
Frown out your one face
But with the other
Stare like a junkie
Into the TV
Stare like a zombie
While the mother holds her child,
Watches him die
Hands to the sky crying,
"Why, oh why!"
Cause I need to watch things die
From a distance
Vicariously, I
Live while the whole world dies
You all need it too - don't lie.
Why can't we just admit it?
Why can't we just admit it?
We won't give pause until the blood is flowin'
Neither the brave nor bold
Will write as the stories told
We won't give pause until the blood is flowin'
I need to watch things die
From a good safe distance
Vicariously, I
Live while the whole world dies
You all feel the same so
Why can't we just admit it
Blood like rain, come down
Drum on grave and ground
Part vampire
Part warrior
Carnivore and voyeur
Stare at the transmitter
Synched to the death rattle...
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la-lie
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la-lie
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la-lie
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la-lie
Credulous at best your desire to believe in
Angels in the hearts of men
Pull your head on out
Your hippy beliefs and give a listen
Shouldn't have to say it all again
The universe is hostile
So impersonal
Devour to survive
So it is, so it's always been...
We all feed on tragedy
It's like blood to a vampire
Vicariously, I
Live while the whole world dies
Much better you than I.
Friday, August 7, 2009
George Carlin, ladies and gentlemen
I need to watch some of my old recordings of comedy some time. I can't quite find this one on YouTube, but the words are ones I value greatly, and happen to agree with. I give you a sample of the musings of the late, great George Carlin.
“There’s a different group to get pissed off at you in this country for everything your not supposed to say. Can’t say Nigger, Boogie, Jig, Jigaboo, Skinhead, Moolimoolinyon, Schvatzit, Junglebunny. Greaser, Greaseball, Dago, Guinea, Whop, Ginzo, Kike, Zebe, Heed, Yid, Mocky, Himie, Mick, Donkey, Turkey, Limey, Frog. Zip, Zipperhead, Squarehead, Crout, Hiney, Jerry, Hun, Slope, Slopehead, Chink, Gook. There is absolutely nothing wrong with any of those words in and of themselves. Their only words. It’s the context that counts. It’s the user. It’s the intention behind the words that makes them good or bad. The words are completely neutral. The words are innocent. I get tired of people talking about bad words and bad language. Bullshit! It’s the context that makes them good or bad. The context. That makes them good or bad. For instance, you take the word “Nigger.” There is absolutely nothing wrong with the word “Nigger” in and of itself. It’s the racist asshole who’s using it that you ought to be concerned about. We don’t mind when Richard Pryor or Eddie Murphy say it. Why? Because we know their not racist. They're Niggers! Context. Context. We don’t mind their context because we know their black. Hey, I know I’m whitey, the blue-eyed devil, paddy-o, fay gray boy, honkey, mother-fucker myself. Don’t bother my ass. Their only words. You can’t be afraid of words that speak the truth, even if it’s an unpleasant truth, like the fact that there’s a bigot and a racist in every living room on every street corner in this country.”
The audience gives thunderous applause. Rest in peace George, you've earned it. And now, so have I.
“There’s a different group to get pissed off at you in this country for everything your not supposed to say. Can’t say Nigger, Boogie, Jig, Jigaboo, Skinhead, Moolimoolinyon, Schvatzit, Junglebunny. Greaser, Greaseball, Dago, Guinea, Whop, Ginzo, Kike, Zebe, Heed, Yid, Mocky, Himie, Mick, Donkey, Turkey, Limey, Frog. Zip, Zipperhead, Squarehead, Crout, Hiney, Jerry, Hun, Slope, Slopehead, Chink, Gook. There is absolutely nothing wrong with any of those words in and of themselves. Their only words. It’s the context that counts. It’s the user. It’s the intention behind the words that makes them good or bad. The words are completely neutral. The words are innocent. I get tired of people talking about bad words and bad language. Bullshit! It’s the context that makes them good or bad. The context. That makes them good or bad. For instance, you take the word “Nigger.” There is absolutely nothing wrong with the word “Nigger” in and of itself. It’s the racist asshole who’s using it that you ought to be concerned about. We don’t mind when Richard Pryor or Eddie Murphy say it. Why? Because we know their not racist. They're Niggers! Context. Context. We don’t mind their context because we know their black. Hey, I know I’m whitey, the blue-eyed devil, paddy-o, fay gray boy, honkey, mother-fucker myself. Don’t bother my ass. Their only words. You can’t be afraid of words that speak the truth, even if it’s an unpleasant truth, like the fact that there’s a bigot and a racist in every living room on every street corner in this country.”
The audience gives thunderous applause. Rest in peace George, you've earned it. And now, so have I.
Long distance dedication
As Krampus once again attempts to drift off into the land of nod, and as a recent verbal sparring partner was kind enough to dedicate not one, but TWO blogs in my direction, I thought it fair to combine a lullaby of Schadenfreude with a dedication to a man of dense and extremely bleached cranial capacity in San Diego. Here's to you!
If your gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough
When you get knocked down you gotta get back up,
I ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer but I know enough, to know,
If your gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough
I lit my brain with Rot-Gut whiskey
'Till all my pain was chicken fried
And I had dudes with badges frisk me
Teach me how to swallow pride
I took advice no fool would take
I got some habits I can't shake
I ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I know enough to know
If you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough
If you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough
When you get knocked down, you gotta get back up
That's the way it is in life and love
If you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough
I've been up and down and down and out
I've been left and right and wrong
Well I've walked the walk and I've run my mouth
I've been on the short end for too long
But if they gave medals for honky tonk wars
Hell, I'd keep mine in my chest of drawers
With my IRS bills and divorce papers and all that stuff
If you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough
If you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough
When you get knocked down, you gotta get back up
I ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I know enough to know
If you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough
If you're gonna be dumb you gotta be tough
If your gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough
When you get knocked down you gotta get back up,
I ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer but I know enough, to know,
If your gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough
I lit my brain with Rot-Gut whiskey
'Till all my pain was chicken fried
And I had dudes with badges frisk me
Teach me how to swallow pride
I took advice no fool would take
I got some habits I can't shake
I ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I know enough to know
If you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough
If you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough
When you get knocked down, you gotta get back up
That's the way it is in life and love
If you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough
I've been up and down and down and out
I've been left and right and wrong
Well I've walked the walk and I've run my mouth
I've been on the short end for too long
But if they gave medals for honky tonk wars
Hell, I'd keep mine in my chest of drawers
With my IRS bills and divorce papers and all that stuff
If you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough
If you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough
When you get knocked down, you gotta get back up
I ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I know enough to know
If you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough
If you're gonna be dumb you gotta be tough
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Anti-heroism
I've been thinking about this for a couple weeks now. I was content to sleep in the back until the holidays and the cooler weather kicks in, but then the noise woke me up. Oh, how I hate to be awakened early. I've also heard it mentioned lately that if one has a voice, never be afraid to use it. So what the hell, instead of going out on a Saturday night, I thought I'd stay in and make an evening of expressing myself.
Recently my attention has been drawn to the archetypes of superheroes, supervillains, and what defines them. Personally in matters of fiction and Schadenfreude, I like the anti-hero. The bad boys, the ones not afraid to use the same tactics as villains to achieve what they believe to be a just cause. Or maybe they're simply focusing on a grudge and see the likeness of their particular cause at the end of their fist or weapon. It's pleasant to watch such visceral heroes. How we love to live vicariously through them.
In recent weeks, a focus has been put in my scope over people dressing like superheroes, yet acting like vigilantes, and criminals in real life. This of course is illegal, giving people who are genuinely attempting to emulate the best qualities of their heroes in costume through charities or PR a bad name. Not so good overall if one is doing the same as the Ku Klux Klan in the name of 'justice'. I do admit though, from an outside perspective, it's amusing to watch. I've even known of social darwinists that spar with swords, clubs and real archaic weapons. WITH NO PADDING, ARMOR OR PROTECTION. Absolutely idiotic, but if there is something positive to say about them is at least they're committed. You have to respect that. True contenders for henchmen or lackeys if ever I heard of them. Give them a case of beer with the promise of a stronger bottle afterwards and you could have a force dumb enough and driven enough to do anything. Especially acts of terror.
I'll focus on that later. Let me get back on topic. You see, we've established that there are some people who call themselves heroes who act like villains. Villains we like to watch and read about, but it sucks if we happen to know them or are in the firing range of friendly fire. Some have publicly renounced them in the hero community. Others feel like striking out, putting a spotlight upon them, calling them out, being their antithesis. So how do they do this? They claim to be supervillains.
Mmmphh(snicker). Sorry, I can't help but laugh.
Okay, so we have people who call themselves good guys but are acting like bad guys, and giving the good guys a bad name. So to counter the good guys acting like bad guys, a group of socially concerned(snicker) people try to bring their actions to conscious light by calling themselves bad guys?
That's one of the stupidest fucking things I've ever heard.
Now I admit, there's something to be said for playing the role of bad guy. In the story, it presents drama, commentary, an antagonist to rally against. The role of the Heel in wrestling is quite important. It moves the story along, building the energy and pace to a crescendo and ultimately chapters of conflict with a resounding resolution, and perhaps the chance to have the tales told again in sequels. I can respect those who purposely call themselves the villain for the right reasons. To confront a social injustice, to invoke change, or even to better someone through the conflict. To be an opponent, to challenge the nature of one to confront ideologies, ideas, a challenge of wits and skills to ultimately have both parties having mutual respect for one another at the end. This I like.
But wannabes? Tch tch tch.
Recently a conflagration has come between a group of people calling themselves supervillains and folks of a more heroic slant raging against each other in words. Such outrage, such division of party lines, rallying to the defense of their respective sides. This is when I was made aware of all this. My roommate was looking into this, and I was awakened from the din.
Then came the terrorist threats.
Someone in the aforementioned group of villainy, in the midst of accusations and retractions made a comment. Someone mentioned a possibility that, although absurd, caught the eyes of my roommate and myself. Someone said they were going to one of the largest comic book and collectibles conventions on the continent and were planning on unleashing poison gas. Mind you, the gas was supposedly designed to turn people into zombies, but the words stuck out like a freshly raped and bare anus.
Poison gas. Comic Con.
Posion gas. Comic Con.
Poison.
Gas.
Comic Con.
Now, my roommate some time ago came up with an interesting philosophical question. A good man, my roomie. Somewhat clever, gifted in creation yet terribly needs to get laid. Nonetheless, he posed an interesting moral debate. If in a story of fiction or what if scenario, he had unleashed to the world a tale of terror at one such convention, someone decided to smuggle a real firearm amongst the props or even a real melee weapon into the convention, or even pulled a sword, axe, spiked club or other means of pain and death from a table in the hall and started to unleash fury and fire, hurting, maiming, scarring and perhaps killing people before being stopped by the security or even heroic Samaritans attending the convention, would the writer of fiction be responsible for the attacks and deaths to occur in real life?
It's certainly food for thought lately. Warning labels on commercials where people are advised the stunts are being done by professionals or simulated by graphics, do not attempt yourselves. People are easily outraged by acts of stupidity witnessed by media. Most know it's foolish and ridiculous to attempt such a thing. But then there are the dumb fucks who prove mankind are less steps away from the cave than we like to believe by imitating the act, outrage makes people want to claim someone responsible, but NO! Not the parents who should have taught the child better, blame the media! Sue them, take the money from those telling the tale! It'll make those touched by the senseless act of the mentally depraved feel better while spending it on doctor bills, new houses and cars, or maybe even a gold wheelchair like the one Larry Flynt uses! SHINY!
Of course, people rallied to the defense of my roommate's question. Of course you're not responsible for the actions of someone taking real actions to harm, terrorize, maim, cripple, kill or torture by posing a scenario. It's not his intentions to make a play-by-play book for a psychopath. So while one might feel a damning crush to one's soul to have their works and words twisted by a madman, unless you're specifically saying you will do such a thing, or are trying to inspire a monkey see monkey do fucktard into doing it, you're not responsible.
But think about it though. All those prop weapons, commerce and economy, people having fun and usually mean no harm to anyone. Could you imagine someone walking in dressed in military fatigues and a fake SG-1 patch armed with real P-90's, pistols, homemade weapons freshly baked from the Anarchist Cookbook unleashed, burning, slashing, stabbing, bludgeoning the crippled kid in the wheelchair and Starfleet costume, firing on the guy behind the Battlestar Galactica display, running a store owner through with a sword from his own weapons display? And remember those lunatics I mentioned earlier who would be stupid enough to do anything for a case of beer and a promise the leader may or may not plan to keep? Imagine more than one of them all attacking at once, taking on 60 year old woman security guards, unleashing molotov cocktails on priceless figures and comics, unleashing total carnage, a terrorist act worthy of The Joker. Hell, the main guy might even dress as The Joker! Why not? And get it all on camera, you'd make a killing in bootleg downloads and DVD sales! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!
Then of course comes the consequences. A senseless act of horror and terrorism unleashed upon the truly innocent. People in mourning, trying to make sense of the carnage, asking why it happened, who was responsible? The most frightening part would come if the brains behind it survived or even committed suicide with a prerecorded media message. Maybe he thought The Joker was such a wonderful villain, he had the right idea. So to join the ranks of Megatron, the original Transformers toy shaped like a real gun being responsible for very real deaths as policemen thought children holding such a replica had a real gun pointed on them made them fire and slay a child in perceived self-defense, that this icon needs to be immortalized in true blood. The psychopath destroying things of value to someone else, tainting the innocence of such a gathering based on ideals of heroism, tales of adventure and unifying themes in fiction destroyed by real, good old fashioned senseless destruction on the whims of a deluded madman. He simply thought it would be funny as hell to watch it all burn.
Quite a vivid portrait, isn't it? And not one people often think about, but one people would surely be willing to shell out good money for. But for all my love of Schadenfreude and wanting to watch the train wreck happen from a distance, I know enough not to unleash such acts without proper cause, provocation or even true desire. Nope, not interested in it. The consequences of such an action? Not for me. So I conceive it, but do not act. But for all the patience and restraint one such as myself may display, there may well be someone who wont' show such restraint. So the question is asked. What if such a threat, outrageous as it may seem, had a air of truth to it? Hell, the movie The Serpent and the Rainbow was based on a true story, documentaries have been made of creating Haitian zombie powder using the toxin of puffer fish, what if someone decided to try his homemade batch? Or what if it wasn't really zombie gas at all, but a flamethrower, or a mix of household chemicals that'll do more than clean your floors and clogged pipes?
One of the worst potential threats one could face is the one that seems so outrageous that it seems laughable, not to be taken seriously until unleashed in all its horrific glory. So, to put my roommate's mind at ease, I decided to help in a legally responsible way. I contacted the administrators of Comic Con, the San Diego PD, the San Diego branch of the FBI, and even to try and give them an exclusive for coverage, the G4 news department. They were broadcasting from the con live after all.
Oh, that's right, I did say threats. Plural.
Apparently someone else on the aforementioned league of paper terrorists made comments that could also be seen as threats against anyone in a costume doing more than having fun at the con, acting like responsible citizens if they tried to act up or start shit. Someone who from the grapevine had military training. Oh no, I can't see why anyone wouldn't respond to such words. Did I say wouldn't? I meant WOULD AND SHOULD.
In a post-Columbine, Ruby Ridge, Waco and 9/11(that's right, I went there, deal with it) world, despite a disclaimer on another page saying nothing on such a board should be taken seriously, it is my belief that it is utter stupidity to the level of sliding down the evolutionary ladder like it was greased with industrial strength super lube freshly squeezed from San Francisco to say you're going to unleash poison gas at a crowded convention, and joke about hanging out around the air vents! It's also my observation that it's complete and utter arrogance that no one should take any actions seriously by a person to make a claim of attack and action against others in the same span of days when a potentially damaging comment made on another on the same site was retracted, only to be followed up by someone who has engaged in cyber-bullying by exposing the name, photo and location of a minor who was harassing them, only to yank it down quickly in a high-tech game of peekaboo.
If you want a lesson in villainy? I'll be happy to elucidate. I don't care about the context, the disclaimers or the attempt to hide behind parody. I don't care because I know firsthand how potentially dangerous it can be. If you're going to dare to call yourselves villain, much less supervillains, never...EVER ...have the gall to be surprised if someone hates you. Villains in their context are supposed to be hated, despised, attacked, defeated, beaten, broken. And despite the laughable nature of the dressings, villainous acts are truth repeated time and time again not to be taken lightly unless proven that the one speaking such threats are so pathetic, so harmless, so utterly incapable of actual harm and danger as to themselves be perceived as jokes. If a guy in a bunny suit comes up to you with a shotgun at a costume party and says they're gonna paint easter eggs with your blood, you could laugh it off. Until the fucking gun goes off, then people found out the hard way how real the threat was.
Villains drag old people for long distances out of the cars they jacked. Villains rape the elderly. Villains carve fetuses out of pregnant women and steal the newborn. Villains sexually assault children, kill them then wrap them in plastic bags and bury them in the back yard. Villains put smiley face stickers on the duct tape of their victims' bodies. Villains go to prison to become better villains and rape their cellmates. Villains steal and slay, creating broken homes over a few dollars and fake jewelery. Villains trick people into dying under the cover of religious beliefs. Villains poison their own soldiers, lie about it for years until many die, then admit they were slipped a potential cure for biological weapons the enemy might unleash, never mind the effects may rival the contagion. The title of supervillain, if any validity is to be given to it, means the actions of such a person are larger, grander, more horrific and dangerous than any of the aforementioned examples. And the examples I see for the followers are to ruin the endings of movies and to steal shopping carts? NIGGER PLEASE!
Oh please, shut the fuck up! Despite my current incarnation's hue beneath the fur and smoke, one of the names Krampus has been called is Black Peter. Chained and working for a Saint during the holidays and doing his dirty work while the good were gifted and the evil were punished. Krampus was a nigger before niggers were niggas, so spare me your outrage and half-handed commentary on political correctness!
I do see the laughable point the group attempted to make. The origins were paved with the gold of good intentions and ridiculous packaging. Witness to injustices by supposed heroes. Wannabes. So they lash out verbally, something I respect. Hell, I even encourage it. But joke and intent or not, it was my perception that lines were crossed. Other examples of such stupidity could be:
Pulling out a machete and saying, "I'm gonna cut your fat ass open and see if any guts fall out! Ha ha, just kidding!"
Children getting a phone call from an 'officer'."Sorry kids, your parents died in a car accident. I'm holding your dad's head in a bag in my hands right now...mmmphh (snicker) Hi I'm Johnny Knoxville, welcome to Jackass!"
How about going into a theater opening night of GI Joe, lighting some smoke bombs and yelling "FIRE!!!! HAHAHAHA, you've been punked!!"
OOO! I have a good one! Posing as a doctor in a health clinic: "Mr. Foreman, we've just double-checked the results of your daughter's blood test. I'm afraid it's more than just pneumonia. Has your daughter had a blood transfusion recently? Hmm, I'm afraid that would explain it. I'm sorry, but your daughter has full blown AIDS. I'm sorry...are you scared? You shouldn't be, you're on Scare Tactics! WOOO! We got you! It was your wife's idea! Oh man, you should've seen the look on your face..."
I'm not one to throw around accusations willy nilly. I am however one to take any threat, any perceived slight upon myself or my friends and blood seriously. And I don't give a flying fuck about the speed of backpedaling on one's words faster than a BMX routine at the Van's Warped Tour halfpipe. Words were thrown that could have harmed a man's reputation, then retracted like a shiv. What else could have been possible and overlooked? So instead of taking the law into my own hands, I took the role of concerned citizen. I let the authorities know of a perceived threat.
So now, eyes are upon us. I had friends going to that convention, to sit and do nothing would be irresponsible if there were even a hair's validity to the threat. To do otherwise would be unconscionable to me. My friends are MY responsibility. I do not say this as a member of a fraternity or gathering of heroes despite friends being potentially threatened, but as one concerned over words spoken perhaps in jest, perhaps with no venom. But spoken and not retracted nonetheless.
I will admit though, I would have loved to revel in the Schadenfreude as such tales of these individuals would be reported, apprehended and held without bond while threatened with the advances of a cellmate who was a convicted pimp who loves to bodybuild and talk of human booster shots in the showers and in the wee hours of the night when the guards aren't watching the monitors as thoroughly as they should while they lay cowering in their cell and crying, "This can't be happening to me! I'm a supervillain!" Don't worry, if it's any consolation, it's not about sex, it's about establishing dominance. Alpha males and bitches. You know, alphas like what supervillains are supposed to be.
Ahhh well.
Now...let's talk about retribution. My advice: DON'T. What are you going to do, kill me? Threaten me, my friends, my family? Find out where I live and send threats, maybe Christmas cards covered in suspicious white powder that after the shock and stress hit and the hazmat teams are called, it turns out to be Arm & Hammer? Or how about other than parodies, cyber-bullying, attempts to hack me or send viruses? I'd rather you didn't. It's illegal. Any such attempts would only prompt me into pointing the law in the direction of any potential enemies I might have made. In fact, I may not be very active on such boards after this is posted. But eyes WILL be watching. I don't want to look upon you with malice. And to be honest, no joke or threat, if any threats were made against me, or worse, anyone I truly cared for, I fear would react badly. I have faced death. My father breathed his last in my face. I saw the one who brought me into life go from everything he raised me to be to dead meat, the light faded from his eyes. I have hunted, I have slain animals not out of malice nor hate. I know what I might be capable of if the worst things happened and doing stupid, illegal things start to seem like good ideas. I don't want to hate you, despite how good the rush might make me feel for a short time. I have asked myself, 'are the things I'm thinking about worth the consequences if I acted on them?' Time and again, I stay on the side of the law and sanity by answering NO. I know the darkness, the evil, the claims of righteous vengeance and fury in the focus of direction against those the mind vilifies, the heart longs to hate and know the freedom of passionate rage. I know it because I have witnessed it, and felt its seduction, spurning its advances. And for this, I keep vigilant against such threats, to protect those which I invoke my love and claim in my circle. I will not fear, but revel in the rush of being alive as I face potential death if someone threatens me. And when it comes to those I care for, I will destroy the monster with honor, and lacking that, becoming a worse beast, more vicious and preparing to unleash a fury that would make a sadist weep for mercy for my dehumanized target.
Under different circumstances, we could have been friends. It's going to take a lot of work for that to happen if desired on either side. Don't dig yourselves into a trench any deeper please. And pray the answer to the question I have asked myself time and again never causes me to stare in a direction you may be and say 'YES'.
Auf Wiedersehen, and may your nightmares remind you how wonderful it feels to be alive,
Krampus
Recently my attention has been drawn to the archetypes of superheroes, supervillains, and what defines them. Personally in matters of fiction and Schadenfreude, I like the anti-hero. The bad boys, the ones not afraid to use the same tactics as villains to achieve what they believe to be a just cause. Or maybe they're simply focusing on a grudge and see the likeness of their particular cause at the end of their fist or weapon. It's pleasant to watch such visceral heroes. How we love to live vicariously through them.
In recent weeks, a focus has been put in my scope over people dressing like superheroes, yet acting like vigilantes, and criminals in real life. This of course is illegal, giving people who are genuinely attempting to emulate the best qualities of their heroes in costume through charities or PR a bad name. Not so good overall if one is doing the same as the Ku Klux Klan in the name of 'justice'. I do admit though, from an outside perspective, it's amusing to watch. I've even known of social darwinists that spar with swords, clubs and real archaic weapons. WITH NO PADDING, ARMOR OR PROTECTION. Absolutely idiotic, but if there is something positive to say about them is at least they're committed. You have to respect that. True contenders for henchmen or lackeys if ever I heard of them. Give them a case of beer with the promise of a stronger bottle afterwards and you could have a force dumb enough and driven enough to do anything. Especially acts of terror.
I'll focus on that later. Let me get back on topic. You see, we've established that there are some people who call themselves heroes who act like villains. Villains we like to watch and read about, but it sucks if we happen to know them or are in the firing range of friendly fire. Some have publicly renounced them in the hero community. Others feel like striking out, putting a spotlight upon them, calling them out, being their antithesis. So how do they do this? They claim to be supervillains.
Mmmphh(snicker). Sorry, I can't help but laugh.
Okay, so we have people who call themselves good guys but are acting like bad guys, and giving the good guys a bad name. So to counter the good guys acting like bad guys, a group of socially concerned(snicker) people try to bring their actions to conscious light by calling themselves bad guys?
That's one of the stupidest fucking things I've ever heard.
Now I admit, there's something to be said for playing the role of bad guy. In the story, it presents drama, commentary, an antagonist to rally against. The role of the Heel in wrestling is quite important. It moves the story along, building the energy and pace to a crescendo and ultimately chapters of conflict with a resounding resolution, and perhaps the chance to have the tales told again in sequels. I can respect those who purposely call themselves the villain for the right reasons. To confront a social injustice, to invoke change, or even to better someone through the conflict. To be an opponent, to challenge the nature of one to confront ideologies, ideas, a challenge of wits and skills to ultimately have both parties having mutual respect for one another at the end. This I like.
But wannabes? Tch tch tch.
Recently a conflagration has come between a group of people calling themselves supervillains and folks of a more heroic slant raging against each other in words. Such outrage, such division of party lines, rallying to the defense of their respective sides. This is when I was made aware of all this. My roommate was looking into this, and I was awakened from the din.
Then came the terrorist threats.
Someone in the aforementioned group of villainy, in the midst of accusations and retractions made a comment. Someone mentioned a possibility that, although absurd, caught the eyes of my roommate and myself. Someone said they were going to one of the largest comic book and collectibles conventions on the continent and were planning on unleashing poison gas. Mind you, the gas was supposedly designed to turn people into zombies, but the words stuck out like a freshly raped and bare anus.
Poison gas. Comic Con.
Posion gas. Comic Con.
Poison.
Gas.
Comic Con.
Now, my roommate some time ago came up with an interesting philosophical question. A good man, my roomie. Somewhat clever, gifted in creation yet terribly needs to get laid. Nonetheless, he posed an interesting moral debate. If in a story of fiction or what if scenario, he had unleashed to the world a tale of terror at one such convention, someone decided to smuggle a real firearm amongst the props or even a real melee weapon into the convention, or even pulled a sword, axe, spiked club or other means of pain and death from a table in the hall and started to unleash fury and fire, hurting, maiming, scarring and perhaps killing people before being stopped by the security or even heroic Samaritans attending the convention, would the writer of fiction be responsible for the attacks and deaths to occur in real life?
It's certainly food for thought lately. Warning labels on commercials where people are advised the stunts are being done by professionals or simulated by graphics, do not attempt yourselves. People are easily outraged by acts of stupidity witnessed by media. Most know it's foolish and ridiculous to attempt such a thing. But then there are the dumb fucks who prove mankind are less steps away from the cave than we like to believe by imitating the act, outrage makes people want to claim someone responsible, but NO! Not the parents who should have taught the child better, blame the media! Sue them, take the money from those telling the tale! It'll make those touched by the senseless act of the mentally depraved feel better while spending it on doctor bills, new houses and cars, or maybe even a gold wheelchair like the one Larry Flynt uses! SHINY!
Of course, people rallied to the defense of my roommate's question. Of course you're not responsible for the actions of someone taking real actions to harm, terrorize, maim, cripple, kill or torture by posing a scenario. It's not his intentions to make a play-by-play book for a psychopath. So while one might feel a damning crush to one's soul to have their works and words twisted by a madman, unless you're specifically saying you will do such a thing, or are trying to inspire a monkey see monkey do fucktard into doing it, you're not responsible.
But think about it though. All those prop weapons, commerce and economy, people having fun and usually mean no harm to anyone. Could you imagine someone walking in dressed in military fatigues and a fake SG-1 patch armed with real P-90's, pistols, homemade weapons freshly baked from the Anarchist Cookbook unleashed, burning, slashing, stabbing, bludgeoning the crippled kid in the wheelchair and Starfleet costume, firing on the guy behind the Battlestar Galactica display, running a store owner through with a sword from his own weapons display? And remember those lunatics I mentioned earlier who would be stupid enough to do anything for a case of beer and a promise the leader may or may not plan to keep? Imagine more than one of them all attacking at once, taking on 60 year old woman security guards, unleashing molotov cocktails on priceless figures and comics, unleashing total carnage, a terrorist act worthy of The Joker. Hell, the main guy might even dress as The Joker! Why not? And get it all on camera, you'd make a killing in bootleg downloads and DVD sales! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!
Then of course comes the consequences. A senseless act of horror and terrorism unleashed upon the truly innocent. People in mourning, trying to make sense of the carnage, asking why it happened, who was responsible? The most frightening part would come if the brains behind it survived or even committed suicide with a prerecorded media message. Maybe he thought The Joker was such a wonderful villain, he had the right idea. So to join the ranks of Megatron, the original Transformers toy shaped like a real gun being responsible for very real deaths as policemen thought children holding such a replica had a real gun pointed on them made them fire and slay a child in perceived self-defense, that this icon needs to be immortalized in true blood. The psychopath destroying things of value to someone else, tainting the innocence of such a gathering based on ideals of heroism, tales of adventure and unifying themes in fiction destroyed by real, good old fashioned senseless destruction on the whims of a deluded madman. He simply thought it would be funny as hell to watch it all burn.
Quite a vivid portrait, isn't it? And not one people often think about, but one people would surely be willing to shell out good money for. But for all my love of Schadenfreude and wanting to watch the train wreck happen from a distance, I know enough not to unleash such acts without proper cause, provocation or even true desire. Nope, not interested in it. The consequences of such an action? Not for me. So I conceive it, but do not act. But for all the patience and restraint one such as myself may display, there may well be someone who wont' show such restraint. So the question is asked. What if such a threat, outrageous as it may seem, had a air of truth to it? Hell, the movie The Serpent and the Rainbow was based on a true story, documentaries have been made of creating Haitian zombie powder using the toxin of puffer fish, what if someone decided to try his homemade batch? Or what if it wasn't really zombie gas at all, but a flamethrower, or a mix of household chemicals that'll do more than clean your floors and clogged pipes?
One of the worst potential threats one could face is the one that seems so outrageous that it seems laughable, not to be taken seriously until unleashed in all its horrific glory. So, to put my roommate's mind at ease, I decided to help in a legally responsible way. I contacted the administrators of Comic Con, the San Diego PD, the San Diego branch of the FBI, and even to try and give them an exclusive for coverage, the G4 news department. They were broadcasting from the con live after all.
Oh, that's right, I did say threats. Plural.
Apparently someone else on the aforementioned league of paper terrorists made comments that could also be seen as threats against anyone in a costume doing more than having fun at the con, acting like responsible citizens if they tried to act up or start shit. Someone who from the grapevine had military training. Oh no, I can't see why anyone wouldn't respond to such words. Did I say wouldn't? I meant WOULD AND SHOULD.
In a post-Columbine, Ruby Ridge, Waco and 9/11(that's right, I went there, deal with it) world, despite a disclaimer on another page saying nothing on such a board should be taken seriously, it is my belief that it is utter stupidity to the level of sliding down the evolutionary ladder like it was greased with industrial strength super lube freshly squeezed from San Francisco to say you're going to unleash poison gas at a crowded convention, and joke about hanging out around the air vents! It's also my observation that it's complete and utter arrogance that no one should take any actions seriously by a person to make a claim of attack and action against others in the same span of days when a potentially damaging comment made on another on the same site was retracted, only to be followed up by someone who has engaged in cyber-bullying by exposing the name, photo and location of a minor who was harassing them, only to yank it down quickly in a high-tech game of peekaboo.
If you want a lesson in villainy? I'll be happy to elucidate. I don't care about the context, the disclaimers or the attempt to hide behind parody. I don't care because I know firsthand how potentially dangerous it can be. If you're going to dare to call yourselves villain, much less supervillains, never...EVER ...have the gall to be surprised if someone hates you. Villains in their context are supposed to be hated, despised, attacked, defeated, beaten, broken. And despite the laughable nature of the dressings, villainous acts are truth repeated time and time again not to be taken lightly unless proven that the one speaking such threats are so pathetic, so harmless, so utterly incapable of actual harm and danger as to themselves be perceived as jokes. If a guy in a bunny suit comes up to you with a shotgun at a costume party and says they're gonna paint easter eggs with your blood, you could laugh it off. Until the fucking gun goes off, then people found out the hard way how real the threat was.
Villains drag old people for long distances out of the cars they jacked. Villains rape the elderly. Villains carve fetuses out of pregnant women and steal the newborn. Villains sexually assault children, kill them then wrap them in plastic bags and bury them in the back yard. Villains put smiley face stickers on the duct tape of their victims' bodies. Villains go to prison to become better villains and rape their cellmates. Villains steal and slay, creating broken homes over a few dollars and fake jewelery. Villains trick people into dying under the cover of religious beliefs. Villains poison their own soldiers, lie about it for years until many die, then admit they were slipped a potential cure for biological weapons the enemy might unleash, never mind the effects may rival the contagion. The title of supervillain, if any validity is to be given to it, means the actions of such a person are larger, grander, more horrific and dangerous than any of the aforementioned examples. And the examples I see for the followers are to ruin the endings of movies and to steal shopping carts? NIGGER PLEASE!
Oh please, shut the fuck up! Despite my current incarnation's hue beneath the fur and smoke, one of the names Krampus has been called is Black Peter. Chained and working for a Saint during the holidays and doing his dirty work while the good were gifted and the evil were punished. Krampus was a nigger before niggers were niggas, so spare me your outrage and half-handed commentary on political correctness!
I do see the laughable point the group attempted to make. The origins were paved with the gold of good intentions and ridiculous packaging. Witness to injustices by supposed heroes. Wannabes. So they lash out verbally, something I respect. Hell, I even encourage it. But joke and intent or not, it was my perception that lines were crossed. Other examples of such stupidity could be:
Pulling out a machete and saying, "I'm gonna cut your fat ass open and see if any guts fall out! Ha ha, just kidding!"
Children getting a phone call from an 'officer'."Sorry kids, your parents died in a car accident. I'm holding your dad's head in a bag in my hands right now...mmmphh (snicker) Hi I'm Johnny Knoxville, welcome to Jackass!"
How about going into a theater opening night of GI Joe, lighting some smoke bombs and yelling "FIRE!!!! HAHAHAHA, you've been punked!!"
OOO! I have a good one! Posing as a doctor in a health clinic: "Mr. Foreman, we've just double-checked the results of your daughter's blood test. I'm afraid it's more than just pneumonia. Has your daughter had a blood transfusion recently? Hmm, I'm afraid that would explain it. I'm sorry, but your daughter has full blown AIDS. I'm sorry...are you scared? You shouldn't be, you're on Scare Tactics! WOOO! We got you! It was your wife's idea! Oh man, you should've seen the look on your face..."
I'm not one to throw around accusations willy nilly. I am however one to take any threat, any perceived slight upon myself or my friends and blood seriously. And I don't give a flying fuck about the speed of backpedaling on one's words faster than a BMX routine at the Van's Warped Tour halfpipe. Words were thrown that could have harmed a man's reputation, then retracted like a shiv. What else could have been possible and overlooked? So instead of taking the law into my own hands, I took the role of concerned citizen. I let the authorities know of a perceived threat.
So now, eyes are upon us. I had friends going to that convention, to sit and do nothing would be irresponsible if there were even a hair's validity to the threat. To do otherwise would be unconscionable to me. My friends are MY responsibility. I do not say this as a member of a fraternity or gathering of heroes despite friends being potentially threatened, but as one concerned over words spoken perhaps in jest, perhaps with no venom. But spoken and not retracted nonetheless.
I will admit though, I would have loved to revel in the Schadenfreude as such tales of these individuals would be reported, apprehended and held without bond while threatened with the advances of a cellmate who was a convicted pimp who loves to bodybuild and talk of human booster shots in the showers and in the wee hours of the night when the guards aren't watching the monitors as thoroughly as they should while they lay cowering in their cell and crying, "This can't be happening to me! I'm a supervillain!" Don't worry, if it's any consolation, it's not about sex, it's about establishing dominance. Alpha males and bitches. You know, alphas like what supervillains are supposed to be.
Ahhh well.
Now...let's talk about retribution. My advice: DON'T. What are you going to do, kill me? Threaten me, my friends, my family? Find out where I live and send threats, maybe Christmas cards covered in suspicious white powder that after the shock and stress hit and the hazmat teams are called, it turns out to be Arm & Hammer? Or how about other than parodies, cyber-bullying, attempts to hack me or send viruses? I'd rather you didn't. It's illegal. Any such attempts would only prompt me into pointing the law in the direction of any potential enemies I might have made. In fact, I may not be very active on such boards after this is posted. But eyes WILL be watching. I don't want to look upon you with malice. And to be honest, no joke or threat, if any threats were made against me, or worse, anyone I truly cared for, I fear would react badly. I have faced death. My father breathed his last in my face. I saw the one who brought me into life go from everything he raised me to be to dead meat, the light faded from his eyes. I have hunted, I have slain animals not out of malice nor hate. I know what I might be capable of if the worst things happened and doing stupid, illegal things start to seem like good ideas. I don't want to hate you, despite how good the rush might make me feel for a short time. I have asked myself, 'are the things I'm thinking about worth the consequences if I acted on them?' Time and again, I stay on the side of the law and sanity by answering NO. I know the darkness, the evil, the claims of righteous vengeance and fury in the focus of direction against those the mind vilifies, the heart longs to hate and know the freedom of passionate rage. I know it because I have witnessed it, and felt its seduction, spurning its advances. And for this, I keep vigilant against such threats, to protect those which I invoke my love and claim in my circle. I will not fear, but revel in the rush of being alive as I face potential death if someone threatens me. And when it comes to those I care for, I will destroy the monster with honor, and lacking that, becoming a worse beast, more vicious and preparing to unleash a fury that would make a sadist weep for mercy for my dehumanized target.
Under different circumstances, we could have been friends. It's going to take a lot of work for that to happen if desired on either side. Don't dig yourselves into a trench any deeper please. And pray the answer to the question I have asked myself time and again never causes me to stare in a direction you may be and say 'YES'.
Auf Wiedersehen, and may your nightmares remind you how wonderful it feels to be alive,
Krampus
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