tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86095111645933421432024-03-20T21:47:33.419-07:00Destination: AsphyxiationUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8609511164593342143.post-34061006666827074552012-11-19T12:56:00.001-08:002012-11-19T12:56:43.826-08:00We've Moved! Visit Our New Site<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<b><a href="http://www.destasph.com/">www.destasph.com</a></b></h2>
<br />
We've upgraded our shit and moved on from this place. Stop by our new, official site for new episodes of Destination: Asphyxiation podcast, new articles, contributions from new guest editors, and more. Only at <a href="http://destasph.com/">destasph.com</a>.<br />
<br />
Thanks,<br />
Tom B & Site Crew<br />
<br />
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<b><a href="http://www.destasph.com/">www.destasph.com</a></b></h2>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8609511164593342143.post-12493719044346721402012-08-22T03:00:00.001-07:002012-08-22T09:37:35.107-07:00Let's Talk About The Savage Land and Savage Times<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi-JTQMh7iGSiWVaQV8kcABteh-WMxNUW_fwPjd7TloCjZa6m7Yr7ILyGzB-y-XwD0vKDBExC8zFTQn1z5_FVqhZd2tkeS19wFw8uI8CD9pnUZYkZ1RHE6O-Q0Rvs6qfYZIYz4w7IQ-gE/s1600/wallick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi-JTQMh7iGSiWVaQV8kcABteh-WMxNUW_fwPjd7TloCjZa6m7Yr7ILyGzB-y-XwD0vKDBExC8zFTQn1z5_FVqhZd2tkeS19wFw8uI8CD9pnUZYkZ1RHE6O-Q0Rvs6qfYZIYz4w7IQ-gE/s640/wallick.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Memo From The National Affairs Desk<br />
<br />
DATE: August something or other 2012 (it's kind of foggy let it go)<br />
FROM: Edward R. Wallick, MCSE, MCNGP, A+, D.D.S.<br />
<br />
Subject: Savage Times in a Savage Land Call for Extreme Measures & Liquor<br />
<br />
When the Managing Editor of this site first asked me to write him an article I was somewhat taken<br />
aback. To be honest, he still owes me money and seems to have a talent for disappearing from<br />
any given room that happens to have the poor luck of containing both of us at the same time, it's<br />
a gravitational mass thing. We think heavy. But then I recalled, through my hazy thoughts of that<br />
morning, that his bedeviled text messages (yes, plural! messages!) had dragged me laboriously<br />
from a lovely dream where I was once again being worshiped by several thousand Polynesian vestal<br />
goddesses. This bastard would have to pay for that if nothing else in a just and fair world. Also, I<br />
remembered that in addition to the several thousand in cash, he owed me a ballad with which I wanted<br />
to try and seduce the first real island bred goddess that happens to cross my path. But still, none of this<br />
is unusual for me on any given Tuesday morning.<br />
<br />
But then this Tuesday actually was a special Tuesday and by special I don't mean it was 'Taco<br />
Tuesday', which though a great value is diversionary from our topic here. This morning, I found upon<br />
reading the papers, was the day one of my favorite GOP ring wraiths had decided to allow his state<br />
to kill a mental deficient, a disabled person, a special needs person, a dummy, a moron, you know, a<br />
retard!<br />
<br />
Don't misunderstand, I have no problems with a good public stoning of your whores of Beersheba or<br />
even a lippy divorcee. I like to hang the occasional itinerant wandering carpenter up on some of the<br />
larger Redwoods here in NorCal myself, not for any moral reason I just like to keep busy on Sunday<br />
mornings. But even I have never killed a mental deficient, which is tough for me. That personal choice<br />
in victim selection takes most active members of the GOP and local Tea Party off my 'active roster'.<br />
<br />
I do however have a problem with a man whose IQ was tested at 61 being put down like a dog when<br />
he most likely was railroaded. Even if he wasn't, the issue here is his mental culpability, the guy really<br />
believed as they were killing him he was going home to Jesus. What more proof could be required of<br />
his delusion and naivete? A written record of him voting for a Bush?<br />
<br />
The victim in this case was an undercover 'drug informant'. Meaning, someone the cops in Texas had<br />
busted for a drug offense and intimidated into becoming their informant in order to reduce or overturn<br />
entirely his own charges brought about by drug activity. This guy was already a dead man because he<br />
broke the first rule, never open your fucking mouth. Don't get mad at me, it's not my rule it's a 'criminal<br />
seedy underbelly types' rule, so take it up with their local subcommittee in your region. In fact if<br />
anything I'd suspect this poor mentally deficient man was instructed to kill that rat by someone smart<br />
enough to know he'd take the fall. Unfortunately for our victim he took that fall and an additional 6 feet<br />
in the end.<br />
<br />
I don't understand how we can allow a 'Born Again Christian' to let a mentally retarded person be<br />
clinically killed by a state? It's not ok to abort them but it is ok to kill them with a chemical? Why?<br />
Because a bullshit piece of fiction written by multiple authors who never knew the truth about the<br />
universe all worked independently and then had their works thrown together like some ancient fucking<br />
Barnes & Nobles Classical Stories Collection?<br />
<br />
I know an itinerant carpenter who travels all over America we'll call him 'Steve', he is real and he walks<br />
this earth today. I love him! He's a friend of mine! But none the less I wouldn't follow him, or any of<br />
his philosophies, if he died tomorrow because he got hung on a tree by a bunch of whacky citizens<br />
from Oregon (they are literally the closest thing to the Romans in the world today) who were on a tear<br />
for some reason.<br />
<br />
There are several reasons for this: First, just like with Jesus we don't know what Steve was doing from<br />
the ages of 12 to 32. It's a literal fucking mystery that hasn't been solved to this day! I'm not even<br />
certain that Steve knows himself actually, he claims he was in schools and working at various jobs but<br />
there is no verifiable proof! We know he used massive amounts of drugs and alcohol during this period<br />
as well as fathered up to 3 children out of wedlock whom he has trouble supporting to this day. Second,<br />
and this is actually the most important reason, following people on blind faith is for children, people<br />
with special needs who can't understand logic or reasoning and stupid ignorant little brained people.<br />
<br />
What can we learn from this parable? Obviously, Jesus fathered many, many children whom he<br />
abandoned all over Judeah. Mostly with drunken women he'd met in bars based upon Steves parallel<br />
period 'wandering the lands and ministering to the less fortunate' in North America during the late 80's<br />
and early 90's. Basically Jesus was a whore monger, a drunkard and a meth abuser. And Gov. Rick<br />
Perry is a stupid slack jawed pig killer of cognitively disabled people who follows his 'laws'.<br />
<br />
This country was founded on a lot of really great ideals that were great as long as you were white and<br />
wealthy when it was founded. If you weren't white, if you didn't own land or if you weren't pretty<br />
enough to marry up and out of your class restrictions by polishing a good 'knob' then you knew (even<br />
then) that evil is part of America's core. It reared it's head the minute we set foot on the shore and<br />
started killing the natives. It was so full of evil that once we'd killed off the local natives we should<br />
have enslaved we imported exotic natives to do the same work doubling our initial costs. Oh, if only<br />
we'd left more Native Americans alive we'd have turned a bigger profit while we stole the West and<br />
completed our God given quest of manifest destiny.<br />
<br />
Today is just another day in America. Just another evil, vile, disgusting little day. We all let a retard get<br />
killed in Texas last week. Because we're either too lazy to fight for someone we don't know or we're<br />
all just too frightened to really stand up and say what we believe when we see something wrong going<br />
down.<br />
<br />
Because it's a scary thing when you're seeing the death of the American Dream on a 1080p HD LCD<br />
screen in your living room. Especially when you can't find your ammo.<br />
<br />
--ERWUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8609511164593342143.post-29485297334396432212012-08-22T01:29:00.001-07:002012-08-22T02:57:37.996-07:00Let’s Talk About the Hashtag Comedy Show<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiytJmqaf2URIAEl1UJ_RrBPPNgE_mQgUNGEKbGzqKwkBF1XgmFMRY-NN7s_pB_zRJk9Lmk_sTAL8Zsdh2xyk1z4NsU0LVPcGrtp_FmRxdONrtkmAEZnLeV6VjgDL-fe7iaQFlOIGIXozI/s1600/TOC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiytJmqaf2URIAEl1UJ_RrBPPNgE_mQgUNGEKbGzqKwkBF1XgmFMRY-NN7s_pB_zRJk9Lmk_sTAL8Zsdh2xyk1z4NsU0LVPcGrtp_FmRxdONrtkmAEZnLeV6VjgDL-fe7iaQFlOIGIXozI/s640/TOC.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<a href="http://tocpod.com/hashtag-comedy-show-info/" target="_blank">Donate to the #hashtagcomedyshow here!</a></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Podcasts are fun.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Half of the fun is sorting through all the sludge to find
something reasonably passable. Some
podcasts have balls-to-the-wall production value, with studio-grade microphones
and top-tier recording software and hosts that could easily be situated
anywhere on the radio or television.
Some podcasts are recorded by four or five high school nerds all huddled
around a Blue Snowball microphone in their mother’s garage. Some are even worse – some are <a href="http://soundcloud.com/destination-asphyxiation" target="_blank">Destination:Asphyxiation with Tom Bevis</a>. Just like
the best part about Minecraft is spending hours digging around in dirt and the
best part of riding a bike is the peddling, the best part of listening to these
things is tossing out your net and sorting through what you pull out of the
massive, unfiltered ocean that is the world wide web.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, man, Jesus Christ, holy moly, gee whiz and other such
phrases – nothing beats the feeling you get when you find one that’s worth your
time, one that justifies all the wasted hours and hard drive space you spent
milling around iTunes, Podomatic, Podbean, Libsyn, etc, etc ,etc, pulling out
cover after cover. It’s that spark of
gold while you’re panning in California, it’s the shine off that toy you lost
and discover under your bed, it’s the fucking groan you feel when Indiana Jones
escapes that temple at the beginning of Raiders of the Lost Ark with the monkey
head idol intact. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkl0GAlEerlLi4eWYIeqGugiZO_9salk5Xw8E38Augf8L1E-r4y1d_wcAZy8XhJiFQK4bBgRyo3dNPFlMS88nx4wyWW2CSSNe1cXkC1GlKb3jUxGadj6hxEyMvrgMBQwmY5VuDouYrWnQ/s1600/indy+idol.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkl0GAlEerlLi4eWYIeqGugiZO_9salk5Xw8E38Augf8L1E-r4y1d_wcAZy8XhJiFQK4bBgRyo3dNPFlMS88nx4wyWW2CSSNe1cXkC1GlKb3jUxGadj6hxEyMvrgMBQwmY5VuDouYrWnQ/s320/indy+idol.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's a lot easier to subscribe on iTunes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I used to listen to podcasts. And, I tell you, that search can be
relentlessly cruel. But I was lucky
enough to be adopted by the podcasting family through a few sarcastically
warm-hearted connections who took me in for no reason other than I wouldn’t go
away (c’mon, it wasn’t my award-winning personality), and this made my search a
lot easier. And since then, I’ve heard
more podcasts that I can count, and many of them are good. Well above the international average curve –
that is to say, better than those pimply-faced loners locked up in their
basements talking about Dr Who (I’m one of those self-hating podcasters). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And as wonderful and entertaining as podcasts are,
sometimes, they take on a life of their own.
A notable exception is 1 August’s <a href="http://royalanddoodall.com/" target="_blank">Royal and Doodall</a> day. Now, I came in half-way through this
adventure and all the facts I have are secondhand, so if I get anything skewed,
write me a letter about how stupid and lame you think I am, send it to
<a href="mailto:tomfromda@gmail.com" target="_blank">tomfromda (at) gmail (dot) com</a>, and I’ll read it, chuckle, then delete it
promptly. As I understand it, though,
Royal and Doodall day was proposed by yet another podcast, <a href="http://thedheadfactor.com/TheDheadFactor/Home.html" target="_blank">The Dhead Factor</a>, in
an attempt to boost the ratings of the well-deserving Royal and Doodall
podcast. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ97tx28H6eUqODTSKO9Z09Z-Bh_ZSctQO4WARJpaNYfGqkquXoCQQ28TqMoy3jX1HPPgZIpD1poU_SrQaNHuLCB18wYJ2MIYg9_torGgVs10n9csTbd-jGNvQaB59DSFKXi-jVonp-lg/s1600/R%252526D+BrownishYellow+1200x1200.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ97tx28H6eUqODTSKO9Z09Z-Bh_ZSctQO4WARJpaNYfGqkquXoCQQ28TqMoy3jX1HPPgZIpD1poU_SrQaNHuLCB18wYJ2MIYg9_torGgVs10n9csTbd-jGNvQaB59DSFKXi-jVonp-lg/s320/R%252526D+BrownishYellow+1200x1200.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BFF's are fucking boring, listen to these guys instead. @Royal_n_Doodall</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The idea was on 1 August, 2012, all the podcasting and
twitter community between these two shows and all their respective tributaries
would subscribe, rate, download, etc The Royal and Doodall show to up the
numbers on Stitcher and iTunes and all that.
The guys at Dhead Factor had something similar for<a href="http://geeandjayshow.com/" target="_blank"> The Gee and Jay Show</a>
– something of an internet sensation themselves now – previously, but Royal and
Doodall decided to up the ante and do a full-blown live extravaganza that
nearly became an international phenomenon (we’re not talking Beatles big, but
close enough). People connected to the
show from most reaches of the world. Not
all of them, mind you, even God’s arms aren’t that big, and believe it or not,
some places still don’t have internet. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The result was a six-or-eight hour long affair between
Twitter, Skype, Ustream, Google Hangout, and etc. Yours truly was even involved briefly. In fact, if it weren’t for RnD Day 2012, I probably
never would have gotten into podcasting myself.
That sense of community, of camaraderie, showed me that there will never
be a shortage of people willing to beat up on me and say they’re my pals (just
like growing up!) and that I could call someone a goddamn dickweed without them
unfollowing me on the Twitter machine.
Now that’s friendship, man!<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipDcBowHzJhEEJ3QSbf9K1XF1jg5_oVp_Nr3pY3MWccmZWGzKQSxAPomfPiqiVVHenLzY6lP3M_Gyu7_cDSOay7iGrRZeQK_cJdznBeAyL7VgifHi13VNsaFaU9bFKDVrIrvPbM-XX8fc/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipDcBowHzJhEEJ3QSbf9K1XF1jg5_oVp_Nr3pY3MWccmZWGzKQSxAPomfPiqiVVHenLzY6lP3M_Gyu7_cDSOay7iGrRZeQK_cJdznBeAyL7VgifHi13VNsaFaU9bFKDVrIrvPbM-XX8fc/s320/image.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We all owe a debt of gratitude. @thedheadfactor</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And that was great.
That was fun. People are still
talking about it (fifty percent of those people are me, but who’s
counting?). Well, the next big thing to
grow out of a podcast and become its own thing is the Hashtag Comedy Show,
sprouting from a seed planted by <a href="https://twitter.com/thatguytravis" target="_blank">Travis</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/serialnerd" target="_blank">Brandi Clark</a> in their podcast, <a href="http://tocpod.com/" target="_blank">TinyOdd Conversations</a>. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tiny Odd Conversations is one of those aforementioned good
podcasts. In my opinion – which,
honestly, is the Law of the Land in this stream of HTML coding and RSS feeds –
Tiny Odd Conversations is one of the best podcasts out there. In their most recent offering, Episode #62,
titled Martian Sandal Tops, Travis declares that if the duo raises $20 through the
donate button on their website, they will produce a solo comedy album by
Brandi, titled the Hashtag Comedy Album.
The $20 was easily achieved, and Travis was egged on by one Angus
Doodall (one half of the Royal and Doodall podcast) to up the ante himself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht5beqTDPf3lDi2PUh1dFlNSUm5CKmZyyRVBSHWYOvimljyyFospuyeddmiS4XcaG2OK6cl_CdSKJYxfgZoLyqX-ft4HU7ey7pPKhsi8H6W6e3fl46bc4qncRlalmpH_jHrSywhBt0Q_U/s1600/TOC_square.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht5beqTDPf3lDi2PUh1dFlNSUm5CKmZyyRVBSHWYOvimljyyFospuyeddmiS4XcaG2OK6cl_CdSKJYxfgZoLyqX-ft4HU7ey7pPKhsi8H6W6e3fl46bc4qncRlalmpH_jHrSywhBt0Q_U/s320/TOC_square.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seriously, don't make me yell. Listen to this show. @TOCpod</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And by George, Travis didn’t back down. Hell, this is a guy who boiled and ate seeds
from a fucking alien pod that a tree in his yard dropped on him for no reason
other than the internet machine demanded it.
It’s been established that he’s fearless. So, in response to these chimes, Travis let
it be known that he would strongarm Brandi into performing a full-on comedy
show, to be streamed across the internet, distributing video copies to donators
and inviting “gold level” designated contributors to attend. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This, my friends, is where magic happens. For every 2-Girls-1-Cups and
OMGTHISCATSISWEARINGGLASSES that pops up on the internet, there are people
willing to go to extraordinary lengths, break their backs and vocal chords, and
embarrass the hell out of their wives (“You’re making me do things I don’t want
to do,” Travis tweets, relaying a conversation with his wife, “It nervouses
(sic) me.”) for the very sake of your entertainment.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-ngpxtYfFgbxoJ2EiukrycBzk-Ow_Xbb2NcuzEaJ7SGEpYZwDU4ROM8EFFV7uyOrXYTTrUbJClTFTkV9ESsEwDMpDB2KXCPD4up_jx-GAHricnuCMjv5XkqWYNbcDNCQe3_vI3LlE_E/s1600/thatguytravis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-ngpxtYfFgbxoJ2EiukrycBzk-Ow_Xbb2NcuzEaJ7SGEpYZwDU4ROM8EFFV7uyOrXYTTrUbJClTFTkV9ESsEwDMpDB2KXCPD4up_jx-GAHricnuCMjv5XkqWYNbcDNCQe3_vI3LlE_E/s320/thatguytravis.jpg" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No one has ever seen the real Travis Clark. @thatguytravis</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, my friends, these things aren’t free. All the goodwill and honest-hearted
entertainment in the world can’t exist without the help of the people who enjoy
it. The Clark’s invitation is simple:
you can enjoy this feat of internet-based entertainment organized by a pair of
people who honestly love to entertain at the very small cost of a generous
donation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Travis has set up a <a href="http://tocpod.com/hashtag-comedy-show-info/" target="_blank">donate button on the Tiny OddConversations website</a> with no minimum (and, by God, no maximum) donation. In short: if you want this to happen, and I’m
sure you do, or you wouldn’t still be reading, toss them a few dollars to front
the bill. It’s that easy. And in return, you’re guaranteed at least
thirty minutes of solid entertainment.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-zGhY-0ucNIe8f7hEtRt1GS9OEV0BcVNnBrahu6ei6TsGhQJ-zx1CURBlhNxj-POjBYw1YW6iPLrb9OuoyZy98tu_I3mSD0n7RchdMU3P1sIUi-KlvKSUK7QMVmw8kjsHTcnoBaAQP8/s1600/vd6t4s3xd0lnvlhc0g5a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-zGhY-0ucNIe8f7hEtRt1GS9OEV0BcVNnBrahu6ei6TsGhQJ-zx1CURBlhNxj-POjBYw1YW6iPLrb9OuoyZy98tu_I3mSD0n7RchdMU3P1sIUi-KlvKSUK7QMVmw8kjsHTcnoBaAQP8/s320/vd6t4s3xd0lnvlhc0g5a.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Presenting: your star! @serialnerd</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And even if that isn’t your speed, keep in mind that unless
you’re Marc Maron or, eventually, Weird Al Yankovic (you goddamn know that
fucker will be podcastin’ with the best of them one day), podcasting is a labor
of love. That is to say, the hosts and
producers of these shows don’t get paid for their work. Even Podfather <a href="http://www.marchershon.com/" target="_blank">Marc Hershon</a> of the <a href="http://succotashshow.blogspot.com/?zx=80a462501c196459" target="_blank">SuccotashShow</a> doesn’t bring in money for all the stellar work he does. Much like television and radio in the past,
the podcast is in its infancy and has yet to be significantly monetized. This means two things, the first is it’s
still a free medium, still a forum where anyone (even those high school kids I
keep talking about) can participate. It
also means that there is no bread being made from all the work, and a guy’s
really gotta eat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What I’m trying to say is – if you have no interest in
hearing or seeing Brandi Clark attempt stand-up for the first time (although
you should), donate to Tiny Odd Conversations anyway. If you don’t listen to Tiny Odd Conversations
(again, you really fucking ought to – here’s that link again), then donate to
your favorite podcast. And if you don’t
listen to podcasts at all, why the fuck are you still reading this?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, just to sweeten the already ample pot, I’m tossing in a
Destination: Asphyxiation t-shirt to anyone donating to Tiny Odd Conversations
for the Hashtag Comedy Show. It’ll be
guaranteed not to fit so you never have to wear it, so it’s a win-win. Consider it a Christmas present to yourself</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<a href="http://tocpod.com/hashtag-comedy-show-info/" target="_blank">Seriously! Donate to the #hashtagcomedyshow right HERE!</a></blockquote>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8609511164593342143.post-76068440563134446912012-08-21T09:59:00.001-07:002012-08-21T10:37:57.244-07:00Episode Two: Let's Talk With Bonnobo<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F56879727&auto_play=false&show_artwork=true&color=a3212a" width="100%"></iframe>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 7px; padding: 0px;">
So, I tried to rebrand it! In an attempt to protect the credibility and integrity of my guest hosts, I'd tried to launch the podcast with a different label so my writers' names wouldn't be dragged through the mud because of anything I may or may not say.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 7px; padding: 0px;">
Too bad for all parties involved, Destination: Asphyxiation stuck, and we're moving forward with that just fine. Now available is episode two, wherein I talked with the wonderfully pleasant Bonnobo of the Bonn and Obo Show about guitars, the UK, why America is big, and, of course, his brilliant podcast. </div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 7px; padding: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 7px; padding: 0px;">
Special segments include:<br />
The Adventures of Casey Delaware<br />
Weekend Movie Forecast<br />
and Levi Thomas' punishment for being my friend.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 7px; padding: 0px;">
Special thanks to Bonnobo (@Bonnobo) of The Bonn and Obo Show (@BonnAndObo) for calling in as guest cohost </div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 7px; padding: 0px;">
Additional voiced by Michael Cornog and Levi Thomas</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8609511164593342143.post-23604240067383318552012-08-11T05:53:00.000-07:002012-08-21T10:37:32.951-07:00Let's Talk With Ed Wallick<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F55936345&show_artwork=true" width="100%"></iframe>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 7px; padding: 0px;">
The first episode of 20 Miles Past Weird, the Destination: Asphyxiation podcast edition has launched in a stellar flame of mediocrity. Hear it now!</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 7px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5em;">Let''s Talk With special guest cohost Ed Wallick about Cash Cab, The Dark Knight Rises, good script writing, and appropriate Twitter grammar.</span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 7px; padding: 0px;">
Special segments include:<br />
The Adventures of Casey Delaware<br />
Weekend Movie Forecast<br />
and the unveiling of secret weapon Strike Plan Operation Alpha, codenamed: STROPHA</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 7px; padding: 0px;">
Special thanks to Ed Wallick (@EdWallick) of Don't Quit Your Day Cast (@DontQuitYourDay, <a href="http://www.dontquityourdaycast.com/" rel="nofollow" style="color: #0066cc; cursor: pointer; outline: 0px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">www.dontquityourdaycast.com</a>) for calling in as guest cohost. Huge ode of gratitude to "An English Gentleman" for his contributions, as well.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 7px; padding: 0px;">
Additional voiced by Michael Cornog and Levi Thomas</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8609511164593342143.post-91618271498208516802012-08-10T14:30:00.005-07:002012-08-10T14:43:47.285-07:00Let’s Talk About Writing Fiction<br />
You know all about me and know about my background in
fiction and all that stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The truth
is, I love writing fiction because I love reading fiction, but one thing I don’t
like is posting my own fiction to websites.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So when I decided that I wanted to launch a fiction section here in
addition to the many other new sections I’m launching to match the overall
newness of the site, I realized there’s only one thing better than posting my
fiction here for free – and that’s posting yours for free!
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Requirements:</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The requirements for the fiction section are pretty much the
same as the requirements for the rest of the site in that there are none.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or very little, anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here are some general guidelines:</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"></span>Submitted fiction must be written as fiction and in
English.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is to say, no nonfiction
narrative essays about why you think [insert substance here] should be
legalized, written in Portuguese.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></li>
<li><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"></span>The fiction in question must be written originally by
you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not because I’m against anyone who
isn’t you, but because I’ve gone twenty-four years without getting sued and I’d
like to keep my record.<span style="mso-list: Ignore;"></span> </li>
<li>General length guidelines should fall around 750-10,000
words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This isn’t concrete.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you send me a 400 word story and it’s the
best story I’ve ever read in 400 words, I’ll probably put it up and send a beer
and rolled tacos to you via USPS.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Similarly, if you send me a 20,000 page manuscript and it’s fucking
worth the length, I’ll put that up, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But really, if it’s good enough for me, get that shit published for
real.</li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As far as genre/subject/tone/etc, I could give you a bunch
of flowery, pretty adjectives or gritty and mean words to try and seduce you
into sending me something in the hopes that your writing will forever be
associated with aforementioned nice and/or mean adjectives, but I don’t have
time to make up any lists like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
have a full-time job, a rock-and-roll band, and the rest of this website.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So let’s just say if you can write fiction
and find a way to be a smartass, jackass, lameass, or whore’s ass about it, I’d
probably love to read it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And of course,
if I’d love to read it, my narcissism will instruct me that others, too, would
love to read it.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Please e-mail all submissions to <a href="mailto:tomfromda@gmail.com" target="_blank">tomfromda (at) gmail (dot)com</a> either as in-body text or as a Word or richtext format.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Put
something catchy and hilarious in the subject line, too, so I know who
you are and what the email is regarding. Then just sit back, have a
drink, and watch
the spectacularly unspectacular magic happen.</div>
<br />
<b>A Word About Rights:</b><br />
We're not a real magazine. It goes without saying, but at no point will we ever reserve any rights to any piece of fiction. Honestly, no non-subscription based website should. If we plug your shit in to the site here, you're free to send it to other sites/magazines/publishers as you wish. Similarly, if at any point you believe that your stuff being up here for free will jeopardize your opportunities to ever get paid for it, I'll gladly remove it and wish for the best for you on your side. That being said, send me some fucking emails.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8609511164593342143.post-37197946125309902432012-08-02T11:26:00.000-07:002012-08-02T11:26:19.682-07:00Let's Talk About Starting a Podcast<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
These are general truths about your character:</div>
<ul>
<li>You’ve never wanted to host a radio show, but you’ve always
wanted to be on a podcast.</li>
<li>You desperately want to be my best friend/cohort/faithful
life-partner.</li>
<li>You’re ready to get moving on a new project.</li>
<li>You can bake like a fucking pro, but you’re very modest.</li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As it just so happens, I have the remedy for three of those
above-listed characteristics (the modesty is your own problem to solve – try
walking down the street in the buff, that might work).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Within the following weeks, as I finish the
final modifications to site and finalize domain registry, I’ll be focusing on
developing <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">20 Miles Past Weird</b>, the
first-ever and officially official Destination: Asphyxiation podcast.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I can’t do it alone, people.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m now accepting applications for the coveted Cohost
position on 20 Miles Past Weird.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To apply,
please send your credentials (or lack thereof, I won’t judge) to <a href="mailto:tomfromDA@gmail.com" target="_blank">TomfromDA (at)gmail (dot) com</a> for immediate consideration.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Required skills and qualifications:</div>
<ul>
<li>Seriously?</li>
<li>Take a look around this site and you’ll quickly realize
there’s little skill to be found. </li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, no required skills and qualifications.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, to be a part of the show, you either
have to own your essential recording and/or broadcasting equipment (microphone,
home computer, etc etc) or be located in the San Diego area so we can team up in brilliant
Technicolor and use my rig together.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you’ve never listened to a podcast, that’s alright – we’ll
consider your position here at Destination: Asphyxiation a learning
experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During recording, we’ll talk
about everything and nothing at all (the same subjects we cover in text on the
site), play two games exactly, and prank call those boys from <a href="http://royalanddoodall.podbean.com/" target="_blank">Royal andDoodall</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I haven’t driven you away
yet, go ahead and send that email telling me I have no other choice but you.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8609511164593342143.post-84510580013244733822012-08-02T10:06:00.001-07:002012-08-02T11:15:20.250-07:00Let's Talk About Anna Karina<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrxDn-MzLZ5RM7J2m1L60xsxPi8TYQ4lXjAxFJ035C9rRidGxeux7s0fNYoLroBcQ7ljsfooLlVf3hCRUVs0P1i0pD3iuu6NVklgYQz-C8Qkbn9DZEbdaavRpzqAhQU775xra2UvSyHkU/s1600/women.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrxDn-MzLZ5RM7J2m1L60xsxPi8TYQ4lXjAxFJ035C9rRidGxeux7s0fNYoLroBcQ7ljsfooLlVf3hCRUVs0P1i0pD3iuu6NVklgYQz-C8Qkbn9DZEbdaavRpzqAhQU775xra2UvSyHkU/s640/women.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Marilyn Monroe is Clown Shoes: Stop It</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>By Robert Patrick</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anna Karina is a touchstone of French New Wave (Nouvelle
Vague, for those of you who are brooding elitists and clerical mavens). The
slight, doe-eyed symbol of Jean-Luc Godard’s affection is forever branded in
monochrome stills as a foxy chain-smoker with the lettuce of Clara Bow.
Karina’s flippant mane was later worn by the foot herself, Uma Thurman, in
Quentin Tarantino’s jazzy, sardonic Pulp Fiction. That maintained mop of hair
Karina sported on her proud dome ensnared viewers into a celluloid bear trap. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Karina was a music box ballerina with a smoking gun and the
heart of a maimed lioness. Marlene Dietrich was steely, cool and aloof. Audrey
Hepburn was wiry, frail and steamrolled with mascara. Marilyn Monroe was an
hourglass smeared with lipstick. Karina, though, balanced her cigarette like a
baton and dusted her fingertips over sticky coffee tables. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5yb0B9Zs4tWuwumZWdx1Ce2nh8cPJRQjZCXVxnaLGtfPEadZG73Jl-owSvQ6KIC_ej_keLqPfNaeYaxp08rYTukD5bhde0SOUEJzqMkqmVcMmHs5eOodhuBT1mtUAp-aeVD3XVzG9c4s/s1600/17121-15365.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5yb0B9Zs4tWuwumZWdx1Ce2nh8cPJRQjZCXVxnaLGtfPEadZG73Jl-owSvQ6KIC_ej_keLqPfNaeYaxp08rYTukD5bhde0SOUEJzqMkqmVcMmHs5eOodhuBT1mtUAp-aeVD3XVzG9c4s/s320/17121-15365.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You decide who wore it better.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She was an existentialist’s muse. A woman who padded her
lungs with cigarette smoke and wore frumpy sweaters with fuzz balls. A woman
who single handedly out smoked an entire circuit of New York cocktail lounges
in the 1960s. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So why the deal with that cooing, salacious Marilyn Monroe? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why is her porcelain mug branded onto stamps and lacquered
onto walls? Because she pursed her lips and mewed, slunk around with serpentine
abandon, and struck walls with the wingspan of her eyelashes. Maybe for her
time, if you were a hammered Charlie who used his drunken hips to play pinball
with bar stools, you would be smitten over the curled locks belonging to MM.
Today, I have no idea why teenage girls fawn over the star’s hushed whispers
and flighty, staccato speech. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Unless every seventeen year-old girl is a reincarnated JFK. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And the fact that the infinitely talented Michelle Williams
had to dumb herself down to play the vodka inundated, lolling star has me
rolling my eyes like a struck cue ball. If teenagers and twenty-somethings want
to use their short bones to claw at an actress, why not pick Myrna Loy? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Norma Shearer, who was smug and sexual rather than naïve and
crestfallen, is even a better choice. The Cliff’s Notes say that if you’re a
girl, 15-30, and like the carbonated, fuzzy-brained Marilyn Monroe, you likely
suck. You’re not a 1950s businessman with a perversely agape maw, so there is
no reason you should be pining over Norma Jean – that means you, too, Elton
John. Get your shit together.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicT29Ncjj8PD5yVb-tDderxRMC4Cz9BkIltDkxlwkYBu-aEn8n7NDDV4zDLJh1Omn9t9ZJvkvHRo2IMUjjwFL6_uTOMQmQNjrLSVapLrIhTco3nQrPzvdmpLnLBJ4s4uioNbr5IvDjP_s/s1600/Anna-Karina.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicT29Ncjj8PD5yVb-tDderxRMC4Cz9BkIltDkxlwkYBu-aEn8n7NDDV4zDLJh1Omn9t9ZJvkvHRo2IMUjjwFL6_uTOMQmQNjrLSVapLrIhTco3nQrPzvdmpLnLBJ4s4uioNbr5IvDjP_s/s320/Anna-Karina.jpeg" width="254" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old school is foxy as fuck.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At least the
posthumous popularity of Audrey Hepburn is generating interest in someone other
than the boggle-eyed Norma Jean. I don’t really mind when I see girls dotting
their speech with compliments for the fair-browed Hepburn (though I mentioned
her before in a semi-negative light). Sheathed in gloves, each one of Hepburn’s
hands, as if a skewed liberty scale, weighed a cigarette and a cocktail glass.
But she was still smart as a whip (ever see a blind Marilyn Monroe antagonize
Alan Arkin in a dark room? I didn’t think so). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, my advice to you is to go meet cute with Anna Karina in
a smoke plumed 1960’s France. Go waltz with a coy Audrey in a Cary Grant
misadventure. Watch Norma Shearer clink her teeth together in searing
manipulation. Adhere to Myrna Loy’s slicked back buoyancy. Just shut the fuck
up with this Marilyn Monroe garbage. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Go fourth, young person, and understand life!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<o:p><br /></o:p><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxEf79nf3sSGSarkD6k_kFLLiRb4-IMkXGg-VUdbDA6T-p8h3tFRFS05VGk80U97qxefljOqOs0wukhz_k6DlZKstkOzBbNK0lnFzpLwdYiWHcRYoGo11dH96DnU1IskQMli5V21GfEeo/s1600/bob.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxEf79nf3sSGSarkD6k_kFLLiRb4-IMkXGg-VUdbDA6T-p8h3tFRFS05VGk80U97qxefljOqOs0wukhz_k6DlZKstkOzBbNK0lnFzpLwdYiWHcRYoGo11dH96DnU1IskQMli5V21GfEeo/s200/bob.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<i>Robert Patrick has worked for The East County Herald and Alpine Sun
newspapers. He has contributed to The San Diego Reader and is currently the food
reviewer at The East County Californian. He is part of the San Diego
Film Critics Society and runs a website, far less active than the one
you're on, called<a href="http://www.cinemaspartan.com/" target="_blank"> cinemaspartan.com</a>. He is also a popular sports expert
(Boston University women's ice hockey). Robert failed to make it into
the fencing portion of the Olympics this year. He instead earned gold in
forcing Tom to publish his work on this site.</i></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8609511164593342143.post-79754868919834258652012-08-02T01:18:00.000-07:002012-08-02T10:18:54.174-07:00Let’s Talk About the Death of Jimmy Callaway<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXjA-BSTFhFER1x3KD4rEvsSOD55mFg2MtS9HlbhIgz1kSBZDi7CymcLq9j6t186H4zLvASsecvLtI319TguYpRj21yZt9KAQxWmrgQK9cFM_WJXgSUGDw-YaxYG0epBqCI-iWLzVRMyI/s1600/callaway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXjA-BSTFhFER1x3KD4rEvsSOD55mFg2MtS9HlbhIgz1kSBZDi7CymcLq9j6t186H4zLvASsecvLtI319TguYpRj21yZt9KAQxWmrgQK9cFM_WJXgSUGDw-YaxYG0epBqCI-iWLzVRMyI/s640/callaway.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I met Jimmy during my first year of college (if you can call
it that – it was a community college, so let’s say, my first year of half
college, keep it up, champ). I’ve always
been the impatient type, so my first year of college began the summer of my
high school graduation. So, I think I
graduated in 2006, so let’s say I met him somewhere along the summer of ’06.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Christ, that means I’ve known him for six years? Something has to be wrong with my fucking
math. Don’t take any of this for fact,
gents.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, I met him in the hypothetical summer of ’06. I was in an introduction to creative writing
class. C’mon, get off my back. Everyone told me it was a pre-requisite to
take the Masters of [INSERT LITERARY GENRE HERE] courses where I really
belonged. Turns out it was all a bluff
and I probably coulda done whatever I wanted.
He came in, on behest of the instructor of the class, I imagine, and
told us how to make our characters talk.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To this day, the first thing I remember when I think of
Jimmy Callaway is him telling me that people can’t hiss a sentence – literally. “Try it yourself,” he said. “You’ll just sound stupid.” Or something like that. And it’s true. People can’t hiss a sentence unless it’s made
up entirely of “hi-“ and “-ss” sounds. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He gave a short lecture, and when he left, our instructor told
us he wanted to be a teacher. Knowing
him as I do now, I don’t think that was really true. I mean, he was an English tutor at the school
there, and he knows a bunch of stuff about some things, but I can’t imagine him
having that special spark that teachers have, that patience, that utter lack of
faith in the degeneracy of human beings.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Still, what he taught us that day made more sense to me than
anything I learned that entire summer.
Hell, it made more sense to me than anything I’d learned my entire time
in college. Later on, maybe the next
semester, maybe the semester after that, he and I wound up – entirely by
chance, I wasn’t stalking him or anything – taking a fiction-writing workshop
together. Our friendship was planted in
the soil of a poorly written zombie yarn by yours truly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVAz_TBhFtcl7bz00wQQfuNaXE9CMTYFCinzO9cbjZz8kWtspE-UE1twMCEM-Hd87MFNU9PBIUHsFmcrQbJiXKGuNBEuuhyVkv8AT9Fc98IlYxEz8FYaI5lxLCKVn1CoAHVdBGYyBBmyI/s1600/comics.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVAz_TBhFtcl7bz00wQQfuNaXE9CMTYFCinzO9cbjZz8kWtspE-UE1twMCEM-Hd87MFNU9PBIUHsFmcrQbJiXKGuNBEuuhyVkv8AT9Fc98IlYxEz8FYaI5lxLCKVn1CoAHVdBGYyBBmyI/s320/comics.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jimmy's private affair.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To win his affection, I remember I bought him a second-hand
copy of Stephen King’s “Cell.” Really, I
thought, as a fan of the whole zombie thing, he’d appreciate it. From there, we’d talk about comic books, why
his band always played in bars (y’see, at the time, I hadn’t broken twenty-one
yet and couldn’t legally go into those establishments), and he was a frequent
consultant to my own writing. But now I’m
rambling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’d go on to briefly emulate Jimmy’s don’t-give-a-fuck
overtly informal prose and shotgun crime fiction style. I wasn’t as cool as him, so it didn’t work
out well and I turned, instead, to cutting out words from everything I’d write
and calling it poetry. After his college
graduation and my dropping-out, Jimmy would go on to become a figurehead in a
small school of internet-based writers all sharing that same flare for crime –
writers that you probably haven’t heard of yet, but most definitely will at
some point in the future. Writers like
<a href="http://bloodyknucklescallusedfingertips.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Keith Rawson</a>, Cameron Ashley, Matthew Funk, and Josh Converse. Seriously, if you want to read some good
shit, google any number of those guys.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jimmy’s first assault on the internet centered on
machine-gun submissions to various online crime magazines – <a href="http://theflashfictionoffensive.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Flash FictionOffensive</a>, <a href="http://www.plotswithguns.com/" target="_blank">Plots With Guns</a>, and <a href="http://a-twist-of-noir.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">A Twist of Noir</a>, to name a few. Not to say I read them all, but I read many
of them. Nearly every one of them was
better than the next. It’s around this
time that I read Jimmy Callaway’s novel, the name of which I forgot, and fucking
loved it. I then read a novella he
penned called His Father’s Instruction.
Both very publishable, very marketable, very easy to read, enticing, et
cetera, yet, for reasons unknown, Jimmy made little effort to get them
published (from what he told me, anyhow).
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At that point, I decided it was my destiny to somehow be
linked to Jimmy’s name. So I did what
any logical-minded individual would do: I adapted his novella to a screen play
and shortened the title to Instruction.
It went equally distant into the plains of nowhere, so if anyone out
there is looking to make a movie, shoot me an email and we’ll get it on track.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkY-PTNXnM0dNsyxak1XeUZDtavJrRUV3lUoXuJrhQ3zp9MID9OxiQCsi59MLmI2yIUR-HhUCnGkiGC1thooxto-5RkxGQombCsoAmFPSjsTTZMPNi_ZL3JVN8282PFTsY1ctkOG_EN4w/s1600/lke%2521+logo3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="67" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkY-PTNXnM0dNsyxak1XeUZDtavJrRUV3lUoXuJrhQ3zp9MID9OxiQCsi59MLmI2yIUR-HhUCnGkiGC1thooxto-5RkxGQombCsoAmFPSjsTTZMPNi_ZL3JVN8282PFTsY1ctkOG_EN4w/s320/lke%2521+logo3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Original art by Callaway, I would assume.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jimmy then shifted his focus to a number of online critic
forums. He’d long been maintaining his personal blog about his one true love:
comics. The blog, <a href="http://attentionchildren.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Attention Children:Sequential Art</a> was a monthly staple in my reading regimen. A deep and thoughtful contribution to the
discussions on the funny books in the stark language only Jimmy could provide
helped pull things into focus around the industry and served as an invaluable
tool to decide which comics were worth focusing on.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then, he took it one step further and started yet another
blog called <a href="http://letskilleverybody.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Let’s Kill Everybody!</a>. an examination of the slasher genre and its
social implications. It grew into as
critical an analysis as there is out there for the genre and spawned the
spin-offs <a href="http://letsfighteverybody.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Let’s Fight Everybody!</a>, <a href="http://letsfuckeverybody.blogspot.com/?zx=d4c2a7e4fa248a4" target="_blank">Let’s Fuck Everybody!</a>, and <a href="http://letsdrinkeverybody.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Let’s DrinkEverybody!</a>. I mean it when I say this blog
really took on a life of its own, as it grew and morphed into something bigger
than a blog, with new writers coming in to help Jimmy out. That was the beginning of Jimmy Callaway:
Editor-in-Chief. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZE8osTvfsa2uJg4-R6UuMlAeuyyM9QwwxRLx3suxu8HEsqDfjUOjL6Nsne_LzxhEVvlhJEJ5t_I9tq2YaimTIfwUhwj-LeowyB5vm5w69-lmnkj9GhNZAS-axn5T56QszhNty2ZUStms/s1600/CClogo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZE8osTvfsa2uJg4-R6UuMlAeuyyM9QwwxRLx3suxu8HEsqDfjUOjL6Nsne_LzxhEVvlhJEJ5t_I9tq2YaimTIfwUhwj-LeowyB5vm5w69-lmnkj9GhNZAS-axn5T56QszhNty2ZUStms/s1600/CClogo.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Your one-stop shop for all things criminal.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Having a taste of editorial blood, I suppose Jimmy decided
to keep on pushing, trying to get into the sweet tight-pants of the internet
machine with the sole purpose of penetrating our eyeballs. I don’t know the exact story behind the
<a href="http://www.boomtron.com/category/criminal-complex/" target="_blank">Criminal Complex</a> or how Jimmy became attached to it, but it happened, and he
did, and if you want to know more about it, then cruise over there. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What I’m trying to say is that Jimmy Callaway is one of the
most influential and daring writers you’ll never read. Of course, now that you’ve read this, you’ll
surely look up anything Callaway’s ever touched and read it for yourself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No one knows for sure when Jimmy was born, but we all know
that it happened sometime in the past.
Of course, he died doing what he loved the most: reading comics and
being a smart-ass. It was the ghost of
Lee Marvin who finally did Jimmy in. He
didn’t appreciate his cameo in the aforementioned novella and came back for a
bit of payback. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKr6PB8z4w0x-k2qxdvsO6hHwEsr-cfdFAuM72nm8ezx6yg-Z_jROk3f6muV5K74trQa_WhKNifKYHHx0VpCKorrH0zCzid3L4SzSmJM8ydO4QbhOFgq0oPP6X_HFVpwJFxGMP95sZLy0/s1600/dead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKr6PB8z4w0x-k2qxdvsO6hHwEsr-cfdFAuM72nm8ezx6yg-Z_jROk3f6muV5K74trQa_WhKNifKYHHx0VpCKorrH0zCzid3L4SzSmJM8ydO4QbhOFgq0oPP6X_HFVpwJFxGMP95sZLy0/s320/dead.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Life. It imitates art, y'know?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jimmy loved two things: crime and comic books. And the Big Lebowski. And I think he said he had a sister, so maybe
he loved her, too. As far as I know, he
wasn’t married, so we don’t have to worry about accidentally cuckolding him in
the grave. And although I saw a guy who
looked a lot like him once, this guy was old and ugly enough to be Jimmy’s
brother, so it probably wasn’t his son.
So, no orphans, I hope. I’ll
always remember what you taught me: you can’t hiss a sentence. Jimmy,
old boy, you’ll be missed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Happy Birthday, Calloway. <o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8609511164593342143.post-32279749365227937702012-07-24T21:55:00.001-07:002012-07-26T19:58:20.403-07:00Let's Talk About Lovely Molly<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9JEgGo4jZm9-X2YjW_r5LlMKv74ZxEYHo_hlmqfwEP5TdYfyJeLkUP6sWSuNw1V0ZiGcvlxCnpSzMs4yw9ILDxGNEXQ0RY_xBMGvu2sSPqHCa39AWr9gwpineLs1nSacxIvd1izTTYVA/s1600/lovelymolly1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9JEgGo4jZm9-X2YjW_r5LlMKv74ZxEYHo_hlmqfwEP5TdYfyJeLkUP6sWSuNw1V0ZiGcvlxCnpSzMs4yw9ILDxGNEXQ0RY_xBMGvu2sSPqHCa39AWr9gwpineLs1nSacxIvd1izTTYVA/s640/lovelymolly1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Have you heard of Lovely Molly?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
No, you’re not going to get any horror movie cinephile elitism from me
if you haven’t, because I didn’t either until a few nights ago while sitting
alone watching television when a DVD trailer happened across the screen.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
The movie hasn’t made much of an impact. It started its rounds in the film festival
circuit last September and floundered for a theatrical release for several
months before Image Entertainment confirmed its limited release for May 18. No question why I’d never heard of it. The film had a tiny advertising budget which,
I assume, was mainly spent on six teaser films (I’ll talk about those later),
and I haven’t stepped foot in a movie theater in months, opting instead for a
local two-screen drive-in. So, if it’s
not there and it’s not on the television or being thrown at me from the
internet, I probably won’t see it. If
you’re much like me, you won’t see it either.
But, just for fun, go check it out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/-JXnv9YZrcY?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Now that you’ve googled it, let me start with the Eduardo Sanchez
thing. Sanchez is one of the co-directors
of The Blair Witch Project. I’d like to say he’s
the one that matters, but I don’t think either of them do, and I can’t remember
the other guy’s name, so I won’t discuss their differences. If you’ve ever talked to me for any period
of time, you know I have an unfailing and prideful love for The Blair
Witch Project. There are a few reasons around
this, ranging from the film’s brilliant advertising campaign to the fact that
this group of resourceful young people produced one of the greatest hoaxes in
American history. Yeah, you’re reading
this thinking, man, Blair Witch Project sucked, and I’m certain that you’re thinking
that for two reasons:</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: -0.25in;">
</div>
<ol>
<li><span style="background-color: white; text-indent: -0.25in;">You’ve never really seen it, but judging it
according to the worldwide disdain for the film, or;</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; text-indent: -0.25in;">You’re still butthurt that you were fooled, just
like the rest of the country.</span></li>
</ol>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
But the biggest reason I still love the movie to this day is that it’s
the vehicle that introduced me to the Found Footage mode of filmmaking. In fact, I’ve seen countless news sources and
print media citing Sanchez and The Blair Witch Project as the creator of this
format. The truth is, it stretches as
far back as 1980 with the widely banned Cannibal Holocaust, which many viewers had
originally conceived to be actual footage.
The format has sense been adapted for numerous pictures, from the
Spanish zombie flick [REC] and its American counterpart, Quarantine, Paranormal
Activity, and my personal favorite, Cloverfield. Hell, the format existed in literature long
before the advent of the motion picture – Bram Stoker’s Dracula being a key
entry – but that’s a different story.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijFsOavlA4z60E-O1oj8OtYL-7_kFaOPXGeQY8w1etSmWQl1rAgHuAJu1WNRkBXmUGaErPC2tqHOPRF5ULgxzx52U6jbNYPTI7yrqwydd6xjHK8N0Wq3S3e5dMsmmMzTFgft-vO0vCjho/s1600/sanchez.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijFsOavlA4z60E-O1oj8OtYL-7_kFaOPXGeQY8w1etSmWQl1rAgHuAJu1WNRkBXmUGaErPC2tqHOPRF5ULgxzx52U6jbNYPTI7yrqwydd6xjHK8N0Wq3S3e5dMsmmMzTFgft-vO0vCjho/s320/sanchez.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Having trouble finding a usable image from The Blair Witch Project? Me too."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
And people like to complain about this format being overused and
overplayed now, but take a second to count how many mainstream horror movies
hit the theaters. Now, how many of those
use the found footage style? Don’t ask
me, I already know it’s a lower percent than horror movies with bare tits. I don’t know why people are so fed up with
this format, other than the modern consumer of American cinema wanting the
narrative to be spoon-fed to them with as little resistance as possible. I do know, though, why the format works so
well for horror and not so much for anything else.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
That reason is psychological. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Seeing these films told from the first person has two startling effects
on the entertaining viewer. The first
and most obvious is that it puts the audience in the front seat. In these films, you are no longer watching
the events from afar, tucked safe under a fluffy blanket in your mom’s
basement, chewing on stale bubblegum. In
these pictures, you’re thrown into the action, becoming a forced
participant. You are now seeing the
images in the first hand, as they unfold.
When everyone’s dead and there’s no one left to reset the camera, then
dead, too, are your chances of ever escaping.
[REC] and its American remake Quarantine are a shining example of this, as
we watch the events from beginning to end, nearly uncut. The fear is palpable, the struggle for
survival and the realization of unquestionable doom so thick that it weighs you
down.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
The second reason the format works well for horror movies, and
logically the more compelling of the two, is because it draws the attention
away from the cause or the scenario and instead forces the focus onto the human
victims. This is never more apparent
than 2008’s Cloverfield. If Cloverfield
had been shot in a standard format, it would have been easily dismissed as just
another Godzilla clone. Instead, the
format kept the action with the drama of the daring young cast as they fought
for survival. By limiting the view of
the monster to strictly what the characters on screen see, we are able to
embody their curiosity, their fear, and their panic. The beauty of the film is we don’t know any
more about what’s happening than they do.
Cloverfield audiences were outraged by the film’s presentation because
they walked in expecting a monster-filled extravaganza and were given, instead,
and emotional and turbulent story that was entirely human.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_t7Nc9U6pZ_xKYvB0m0j3_X7-qtBMXqC721tbp-nwd5ri1lu32l4sd3rTntQg4WCH3Tor-44w9sKL-ABjTtaMT_Fu-IfUEBR6vMseP1qns9X2wXmwHhZFKSvOjU8Lwt-NABtdcOgrO_w/s1600/foundfootage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_t7Nc9U6pZ_xKYvB0m0j3_X7-qtBMXqC721tbp-nwd5ri1lu32l4sd3rTntQg4WCH3Tor-44w9sKL-ABjTtaMT_Fu-IfUEBR6vMseP1qns9X2wXmwHhZFKSvOjU8Lwt-NABtdcOgrO_w/s400/foundfootage.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Found footage? Let's give it another go. Hair o' the dog, they say."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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This next part will take it all back to The Blair Witch Project. From a creators’ standpoint, the found
footage format is an intriguing concept because it allows for greater
suspension of disbelief. Bram Stoker
wrote Dracula in the form of collected articles to lend it credibility and to,
in a way, recreate the tradition or oral story telling. These events are easier to swallow when we
allow ourselves to believe we’re watching actual events rather than a
collection of orchestrated and edited sound and video.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
The same goes for The Blair Witch Project.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
And for the most part, this creative deception worked – from websites
advertising the search for the missing trio of student filmmakers, to hoards of
street teamers hanging fliers around their towns, to television documentaries
in the months leading up to the film’s release, the creative minds behind its
creation wanted us to believe those tapes were real. Eduardo Sanchez will be paying for his
tremendous success until the day he dies as he tries to become anything other
than “That Guy Who Made The Blair Witch Project.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Well, when he starts making movies worth a damn, maybe he’ll have a
better shot. He was the head behind the
reflective ornaments Altered and Seventh Moon, and the word on the street is he’s
now working on a film called Exists, which – no shit – is about a group of
Texan teenagers being stalked by none other than Bigfoot himself (I actually
hope, for Sanchez’s sake, that there was an error in translation somewhere on
that one and I’ve got my facts horribly wrong).
But when I saw the trailer for Lovely Molly, I’d thought for a moment
that maybe, just maybe, this would be the movie where he got his legs back.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sadly, I was wrong. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Lovely Molly is the story of the young, all-American newlywed couple,
the titular Molly, and her husband, Timmy.
Like so many other young American couples, the two find themselves in
financial strain, and, to save money, they move into Molly’s childhood home,
which has stood abandoned since the death of her father when she was just a
child. Everything goes alright until she
opens a closet and offers her hand to – well, we don’t know. This is the beginning of Sanchez’s deception.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The scene opens with the same kind of pleading confession as The Blair
Witch Project. As I settled down with a pair of gasping
pugs to watch the movie, I thought, this again, okay. I’d hate to see Sanchez get typecast, but if
it meant he’d be making quality movies, it might be worth it. Moments later, the camera format shifts to a
more standard presentation. This is
always tricky. It’s never a good idea to
bounce between the first-person and the third person with no excuse, seemingly
at random (I’m talking to you, District 9), but I decided to give Lovely Molly
a chance.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m glad I didn’t overlook it for that reason, because Sanchez actually
utilized the found footage format in a smart and rather unique way. During key sequences interlaced throughout
the overall narrative, Molly begins taking evening treks into the woods behind
her house. Her motives aren’t
immediately apparent, but instead of filming it from her perspective ala 1978’s
Halloween, Sanchez opts to instead use the footage from the video camera she
carries on her nightly stalking adventures.
Now that this potential meltdown is diverted, let’s move on to the mess
surrounding the rest of the movie.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Once, I thought it would be cool to toss all of my unused electronic
cables into a bin so I’d always know where they are. Brilliant, right? Yeah, until I lost my old Gameboy adapter and
had to pull out my spare and realized I never wound up any of those old
cords. The result was a massive knot
made up of loose ends unfulfilled hopes.
Yeah, that’s Lovely Molly, alright.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It’s worth noting right off that bat that much of the acting was
top-notch, especially from newcomer Gretchen Lodge in her lead debut. She hands down owns the picture, performing
much of it alone, and spending much of that time in the buff. She’s fearless, dedicated, and convincing in
her portrayal of a young woman with a troubled past that’s caught up to
her. Or, maybe she’s possessed? No, the house is haunted, right?</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUXl8TIrgbQ51XGapyyKC2DbFuxzW_y5g8cmzhpjaPtmyL4HwsP9BL1STHTiwmAXNSMFgXUtp4mwwUEpV7ViP5tczwGGxIXMh6efQj3SXai8DeJep4qJqxhuiRFADInECuy8DdeI3EmRs/s1600/rapeystuff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUXl8TIrgbQ51XGapyyKC2DbFuxzW_y5g8cmzhpjaPtmyL4HwsP9BL1STHTiwmAXNSMFgXUtp4mwwUEpV7ViP5tczwGGxIXMh6efQj3SXai8DeJep4qJqxhuiRFADInECuy8DdeI3EmRs/s400/rapeystuff.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sorry, Gretchen, you're not getting paid more for all the weird sex stuff.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Hell, even if you haven’t seen the movie, you may know just as much
about it as I do. For the entire length
of the film, Sanchez is trying to dupe us into believing any one of the three possibilities,
any number of which may be wrong. His
greatest success in The Blair Witch Project was tricking so many people into believing
such a silly story, sure, but what’s the point here? Looking back at movies like this – The Amityville
Horror, for example – this lack of clarity is typically the kind of thing that
infuriates viewers, so why would he intentionally toss it at the people paying
to see his movie?<o:p></o:p></div>
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This actually began long before the film’s release. Remember those six teaser short’s I
mentioned? These short films were
released on the world wide web in the weeks leading up to the film, two for
each theory, between demonic possession, abusive history, and haunting. They are presented in the same pseudo-documentary
format as much of the Blair Witch Project propaganda was, utilizing a ridiculous
narration that seems that it would be more at home as a queue narration at
Disneyland than a promotion for a horror film.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/OH0a0D8N97U?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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In the movie itself, scenes are tossed together with stacking evidence
for either scenario – from episodic tantrums, creepy moaning closets, a bunch
of weird rapey stuff, second-handed conversations, we can’t tell if Molly is
facing ghosts, demons, or a history of repressed sexual and physical abuse
finally taking their toll. What we do
know is that Molly has a history with drugs, her father was likely to be an
abusive man after the death of her mother, and he died in the house she is now
residing in. But no matter how much
evidence Sanchez throws into the mix, it’s all for waste by the film’s
conclusion. Don’t rush me, though, I’ll
get to it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Now, I started to get hopeful.
For much of the film, we’re never shown any monsters or ghouls or devil
babies. We hear sounds, sure, and we
watch, despairingly, as Molly descends into a deep, traumatic madness. Everything can point back to mental illness,
to a psyche being shattered by the painful remembrance of her past as she
continues to live in her childhood home.
We’re talking about an abusive father, molestation, and isolation, the
same stuff that drove poor Molly to drug use.
We watch her return to that state of mind, and we watch her pain as she
tries to confront it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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What a beautiful device that would have been, a story about trauma and
bad memories – our metaphorical ghosts made literal by an unstable mind in
danger of collapsing. We could only be
so lucky. Here’s where I ought to warn
you, as you’re new to my style and I’m new to yours. I’m gonna talk about the end of the movie
here, so if you wanna split, do it now.
Like I said, all of this mounting evidence means very little by the
conclusion of the film. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3KGANm5-TlDvRIv0MUFlevWcUaKMnbtxfOmDu5-QJUiIKivxs57-orohjHEWsT8hRNtx-ik3TrrJhmO3VXZnr5fp_-i8XIMQNtjd6k-_W33y8wcmpvkHFttlpZzmtXcd28fzoA2Eck34/s1600/mollygwar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3KGANm5-TlDvRIv0MUFlevWcUaKMnbtxfOmDu5-QJUiIKivxs57-orohjHEWsT8hRNtx-ik3TrrJhmO3VXZnr5fp_-i8XIMQNtjd6k-_W33y8wcmpvkHFttlpZzmtXcd28fzoA2Eck34/s320/mollygwar.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fresh from the Gwar concert.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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We find Molly at the bottom of the well – she is now a murderer, a
stalker, she’s shunned her sister, lost her husband, she’s trapped in a house
full of bad memories, a possible devil infestation, and maybe ghosts. What a drag, right? Well, it gets worse. With nothing left to cling to, she finally succumbs. In a scene that’s disturbingly and obscenely
sexual in the worst kind of ways, she accepts her demons, whether they’re the
scars of her past, a ghost in the closet, or, well, actual demons.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And, as it turns out, demons were exactly what it was. <o:p></o:p></div>
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After she’s finished giving up the rest of her innocence in her old
childhood bedroom, she morosely marches down the stairs, and out the front
door. Waiting in the yard for her, arms
outstretched, is some kind of devil with the face of a horse. No, not Sarah Jessica Parker, I mean, a
literal horse. But it doesn’t look
scary. I mean, I’d be willing to give
this thing a hug, regardless of whatever kind of ordeal happened in the upstairs
bedroom. It looked like something from
the goddamn Muppets.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In a short epilogue, Molly’s sister (whose name I can’t remember, but
is played by Alexandra Holden) walks through the house, investigating the empty
rooms and eerie doorways. In her
upstairs bedroom, she discovers the family photo album, where Molly had
replaced her father’s face with the heads of horses. Then, she looks up to the closet, opens it in
a manner identical to that of Molly, and BAM, she, too, is introduced to the
evil forces of the closet, same as her sister.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgDrwWC3rkmvSVypbKZ2K7UGE1TJbSxpLXxSHXiwPSqmqUBxEd8HNW4hRtzDwTGFtYfOnBNydgdS3MrBT5S4rj6p719_lVZ3BRnnBW49nNayUvVZpw5VzR9jiqaTJI7TOCZY9LcWb6Y1M/s1600/crew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgDrwWC3rkmvSVypbKZ2K7UGE1TJbSxpLXxSHXiwPSqmqUBxEd8HNW4hRtzDwTGFtYfOnBNydgdS3MrBT5S4rj6p719_lVZ3BRnnBW49nNayUvVZpw5VzR9jiqaTJI7TOCZY9LcWb6Y1M/s320/crew.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sanchez is the rapey-looking one in the back.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Providing those two ending scenes, it’s unlikely that any psychological
ties can be made. To me, that seems an
awful shame. The idea seemed crisp and
oddly romantic to me as I watched and hoped for something original or
marginally inspiring from the genre and Sanchez. That very small twist would have made the
picture a heartbreaking segue into the deterioration of the human mind in the
face of a true human horror instead of bleeding into the background with all
the other haunted and/or demonic house movies.<o:p></o:p></div>
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If you’re still interested in seeing it (you must be, or else you
wouldn’t have gotten this far into the article), then you can find it on DVD
wherever bad horror movies are sold on August 28.<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0