Excuse me, kids, but why the fuck do you all have shorts on in Winter?
Christmas is a magical time of year, when we shuffle around, from store to store, spending our hard-earned money on people who realistically won’t like what we get them anyway. When we are not driving onto curbs to avoid “holiday lunatics”, or fighting our way through a store to get someone the “next big thing”, we all do our best to rekindle our innocence by watching the same holiday specials, over and over again, every year. We say we do it because we love them. But that is not why we do it. We watch them on the off-chance they will rekindle our faith in humanity, or perhaps give us back some of that innocence and purity we had in us when we first saw them as a child. The word is nostalgia, and at no time is that feeling more in the air than at Christmas time. But as you get older, and more and more of you dies inside, you begin to notice things in these specials you never noticed before. The following things I learned in horror last week, watching Frosty again, only this time through different eyes. Bitter, jaded eyes. Prepare to have your mind blown. Or to laugh at me. It will definitely be one or the other and no in-betweens.
Alright guys, if you are reading this, I am assuming things got way out of hand, and I’m sorry. It started as a game, it really did. We called it assassin, and it was just something stupid we did around school that somehow took on a life of its own. The way is started was simple, really. If someone got behind you, and put their hand on your back or neck, it meant you were “dead” for the day. If you were “dead” for the day, you could not assassinate anyone else. The idea was to see who was the last man standing most often, and dubbing that person the monthly assassin. That was it. Then one day, John got the note that changed everything. It was folded into one of his school books, and he pulled it out during class. Scrawled in pen were the words: Surprise, you’re dead! And on the back of the paper were instructions. Kill someone within ten minutes of getting this note, or you will be killed. I know John thought it was a joke, we all did. But the next day when they found John’s body, no one was laughing, and everyone was suspect. And then it happened again, and wouldn’t you know it, kids would much rather kill someone than die themselves, which turned Surprise, You’re Dead into the epidemic it is now. I’ll tell you all I know, but you need to take this to the right people and do the right thing, and you know what that is.
I may not be speaking for everyone, but I am definitely speaking for myself when I say there is something undeniably spiritual about seeing an amazing band live. It just seems like every nerve ending reacts to hearing and feeling the sonic resonance of the music as it travels through the air. And sometimes there are other elements, which are completely out of your control, which can add to one another to make the show even better, whether it’s drugs or an electrical storm. Or even better, taking drugs at an outdoor show during an electrical storm. As scary as that may sound, you pair that up with one of your favorite bands putting on one of the best shows of their lives, and you have all the elements of a life-changing moment. The following are six shows I saw, and the circumstances in which I saw them under, that forever etched them into the wall of my subconscious.
Alright, listen, just because I hate the ideals this country was formed on, doesn’t mean I hate this Country. Quite the opposite, actually. Any Country that allows me to write about hot woman in horror movies, or how getting shot is heavy metal, is a f*cking great Country. Like I said, no issues with the Country itself, but I do have some issues with how we came to be. And no single holiday sums up America quite like Thanksgiving. We pretend the basis for this epic-meal themed-holiday was the discovery of America, and the peaceful cohabitation between different cultures over a mutual understanding. But come on, can’t we stop pretending for a bit? Columbus was a deceitful, shady scumbag, and rape, murder, and thievery where the basis of him
stealing discovering this great Country of ours. So eat away the guilt, people. But atleast be honest with yourself when you do. The whole idea of this holiday is something that always escapes me, every Thanksgiving. Hey, we stole your land and raped your culture, let’s eat pie. For some odd reason, I can’t wrap my head around that, but the general population seems to have no problem with it, which makes it even weirder to me. I know I am not the first to say it, but hear me out for a second.
At the end of the last chapter, I was at Baseball and Boardwalk, and the group of terrible people I was with were about to engage in a fingering contest. Like I said, that is EXACTLY as awful as it sounds. In case you haven’t read the last chapter, I recommend you do so now, or this may be a bit out of context. Regardless, it will be a mindf*ck of a story, but you really should hear it in order. Needless to say, my torment was only going to be furthered if I was the one in the group who DIDN’T finger someone, but in the same breath, I was just an innocent kid back then, and there was NO WAY I was going to be able to (or wanted to) actually finger someone, so I was at a crux. Standing in a land that was all but foreign to me, in every way. The funny thing is, I kicked in to survival mode at that point. These assholes brought this to the surface in me. A diabolical, almost genius method of problem solving I have never experienced before. Man, fight or flight response can be pretty fucking amazing when you are forced into them. And a quick disclaimer: This does not turn into a love story that circles around fingering. This, my friends, is a cunning story of survival. And the nicest teenage girl you will ever read about in your life.
Site is all fucked up, can’t post pics and having a great deal of trouble trying to get posts up, so bear with me for a bit, guys and gals. I haven’t abandoned the site, just need to go stab my webmaster. Just kidding, my webmaster!
*Keeps sharpening knife
In the meantime, here is a video of a Jake from Adventure Time singing about bacon pancakes for ten hours.
That should keep you busy for a bit.
The best part is the song is ALSO the recipe! Good luck getting this out of your head now, by the way.
I was totally sitting down to write an article about suicide. About how, without a doubt, someone you love, at some point in your life, is going to kill themselves. I was going to tell you how there is LITERALLY nothing you could do to change that, and to just steady yourself for it a bit makes the impact less world-shattering. I was prepared to fill you in on statistics, and let you know that thirty-eight percent of all car accidents are actually suicide attempts. But then I remembered that I asked you if you could kill a kid yesterday. You can’t follow-up a “Could you kill a child” article with a “someone you love will inevitably kill themselves” article, because that is just too heavy. So I decided, last-minute, to make this an article full of cute ass puppies, lest someone call me and ask if I need a hug. Which, by the way, I do. Honestly, you gotta give the masses a moment to “squee” now and then, lest you lose them to the darkness.
If you put me up against a pack of zombies, I think it is pretty clear I would kick some ass. If you needed me to invade a hive of vampires, I promise I would stab all those glittery bastards in the heart faster than you could say “sparkle”. And if you had a werewolf infestation in some Romanian village you needed me to quell, I would do so with all the zest of a Charlie Sheen banging a gaggle of porn stars. Hell, even a mindless killer like Jason Vorhees, I know all I need to do is decapitate that fucker and he really can’t do a helluva lot to me at that point. But what about “killer kids”? Little heathens without hearts who look up at you with those big, doe eyes, and ask you not to hurt them? Have you ever imagined what you would do in that situation? Well, maybe you should, because out of all the scenarios I just mentioned, only one of those can kill you in real life, and guess which one that is? Ironically, the one it would be hardest enough to bring yourself to kill: Children.