That Guy

Posted by E

Thursday, July 31, 2008

We all have fears that we deal with on a daily basis. I'm mindful because I fear stepping on ants. (I don't wish to indiscriminantly kill.) I struggle every day with those voices commanding me to rape the elderly. (Most days I prevail.) But my one greatest overall fear is the fear of being "That guy".

We've all dealt with that guy at some point in our lives. Whether it be at a restaurant, at the store or at the theater, we've all run across that guy who takes unimportant things WAY too seriously.

Point in case, a week ago, like much of America, I made my way to the theater to catch a screening of The Dark Knight. I had gone with a few friends to an IMAX screening. We got our tickets and made our way to the line for the theater.

After standing there for a few, I turned to one of my friends and said, rather jokingly I thought, "Now, I didn't see Spider-Man 2. Is this movie going to make any sense?"

You could almost hear the frustration coming from the geek that I offended, his hatred so palpable.

"This isn't Spider-Man. It's BATMAN!!!"

"Oh, yeah, sorry, my bad," I said, eyes rolling about in their sockets.

What the fuck, man? First off, did he REALLY think that I was unaware that the ticket I just bought was for Batman? I had to ASK for the ticket at the booth or PUSH THE BUTTON for it at the machine. You'd have to be pretty well retarded to make it all the way to the theater without realizing what film you were there to see.

Is it worth mentioning that no less than THREE people I was with were wearing Batman shirts? That nearly 60% of the LINE was wearing Batman shirts? That every fucking poster at the theater and the giant cardboard display were BATMAN?

"That guy" is always around, always getting indignant over the most banal and uninteresting things.

"NO! KITT damaged HIS Alpha Circuit towing a hatchback in episode 3, "Deadly Maneuvers". You're thinking of the episode where KARR ends up submerged in water, damaging his Alpha Circuit, which in turn required manual intervention for the turbo boost to fire."

"The ORIGINAL Grimlock was from the Diaclone series by Takara Toys that launched in Japan in 1980. So, the Hasbro version released in 1985 is technically a SECOND release."

"It was CLEARLY established in Rainbow Brite's backstory that she was originally an orphan named Wisp, who was taken to the Colorless World. She gets the Sphere of Light and befriends Twink and Starlite, THEN she got the Color Belt and met the Color Kids. Once she beat the Dark One, she was renamed to Rainbow Brite."

Surely any normal person would feel an uncontrollable rage to pummel the face of whatever greasy monstrosity belched out such pointless drivel.

I have my quirks and I certainly have several things that I know WAY too much about. But get this, you can talk incorrectly around me. I might correct you, but I would not get in a huff and throw a tantrum over it.

Is there really anything cartoon, toy or movie-based in this world that's worth defending with so much vigor? Do people really attach that much of their own identity into these things?

For the sake of it, let's ruffle some feathers:

OPTIMUS PRIME IS THE LEADER OF THE HOMOBOTS

ANAKIN SKYWALKER WAS A WHINY LITTLE EMO BITCH THAT DESERVED WHAT HE GOT

ANIME IS NOT COOL

You know, I have been in exactly one fist fight in my entire life. All these years, one fight. You know what that fight was about?

The Smurfs.

That's right, some kid challenged me to a fist fight in sixth grade because I dared to accuse Papa Smurf of being nothing more than a Marxist symbol and that Smurf village was a communist society. That was seriously enough to make somebody wish to cause bodily harm.

Oy gevalt.

Introduction To Arbitrage

"I'll be totally upfront, because you seem like a really cool person. I'm a sex addict."

At this point, I can no longer lose. 6-Love ³

I just castled with the rook. The ball is no longer under any shell. The 3 Card Monte has been executed again with precision.

You see there are only 2 scenarios that will now unfold.

A. She leaves me alone. Good. Now I can throw my headphones back on, and continue my journey through time and space. No need for small talk, maintenance, and the likes.

B. She’ll fuck me. Good. Now I can throw my headphones back on, and continue my journey through time and space. No need for small talk, maintenance, and the likes.

I can’t lose. Game, set, match.

“Arbitrage wins …Final score from centre court. 6-Love, 6-love, 6-Love”

That my friend is Arbitrage.

What is "Freedom"?

So you hear that word thrown around so often in America. "Enjoy your freedom? Thank a Vet!" "America: Land of the FREE" “Freedom isn’t free!” But does anyone really think about what it means?

free·dom /ˈfridəm/ [free-duhm] –noun
1.
the state of being free or at liberty rather than in confinement or under physical restraint: He won his freedom after a retrial.
2.
exemption from external control, interference, regulation, etc.
3.
the power to determine action without restraint.
4.
political or national independence.
5.
personal liberty, as opposed to bondage or slavery: a slave who bought his freedom.

Ok, yes, if not for WW2 veterans, we would likely all be speaking German right now. Yes, we are "free" from Nazi rule. Gotcha. But are we MORE free than other western countries? Lately I have been feeling anything BUT free. I am tired of this cowboy regime that is running our country! With their attitude of:

"Oh, the majority of the country thinks this is a bad idea? Fuck em, we run shit!!"

We, as Americans are being forced in to a lot of things that most of us want no part of. We DON'T want to be at war, we DON'T want oil companies running our country and making our laws, we DON'T want to continue to harm the environment because the car companies don't feel like improving. It is just getting frustrating.

So maybe freedom is democracy? Democracy in this country is currently the "choice" to choose the next leader of the country from a huge group of 2 ASSHOLES. And then the winner of the "I'm less of an asshole" contest runs the country for the next 4-8 years. And in our current situation, even THAT didn't happen.

I understand that this country has a LOT to be thankful for. But it just seems like so many people CALL this the greatest country in the world, and the land of the free, without REALLY thinking about WHY they say that! It's not our electoral system, our foreign policy, our immigration laws, our healthcare, our tax system, our lawmakers, or our environmental standards.

So what is it exactly that makes us "the best"? Is it because we have the biggest war machines? OK, we win the nuclear pissing contest, so what.

I guess that if anything would make this the greatest country on the planet, it would be the people. Not the people running the country, but just the citizens. We are the most charitable nation on earth. For the most part, we really do CARE about the rest of the world. We care about each other, and take care of each other.

If we could get that type of mentality in to the government, and stop all the lobbying and payoffs, things could change. Good people often go in to politics, and after a few years, they are just another one on the payroll of oil, pharmeceutical, auto, and whoever else needs taxes or laws to be changed in their favor.

Hopefully by the time my daughter is old enough to care about this stuff, she will be driving her electric car to work, paying taxes via the fairtax, and will be proud of her president and government.

I can dream can't I?

Hello to Ernie's!!!!

Posted by E

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Well, Hi-Dee-Ho to our friends over at Ernie's House of Whoopass. Getting our humble little site posted onto the front page there has been an exciting experience, to say the least. Allow me to say in my best awful Asian accent...Me rikey Ernie!!!!

If you happened across us earlier, please take a look through the archives now. At this point, specifically the archives for E. Some of our older postings have been integrated into the new site.

As you may or may not have gleaned from what was present on the front page, Omniphobic is a project created by myself and a small cadre of other writers intended to continue offering me an avenue with which to spew forth my screed while also offering a home to some new and interesting voices.

As is apparent from our respective histories, some of us are newer at this. But don't let that be a deterrant. As they say, "If there's grass in the field...play ball!"

If you'd like to take the time to browse our newly online past, you'll get a good feel for the type of information you might find here.

Are we a comedy site? No, but we're funny. Are we an angry site? No, but we're sometimes pissed off.

There is no overarching philosophy here other than an overwhelming desire to entertain. So please, peruse, make yourself at home, drop us a line.

We hope to see you again.

A new low.

Greetings all, Capn' Colon-blow here. When I was asked to come and write here at Omniphobic, I have to admit that my first thought was "Great, it's Marry Poppins and the seven dorks." I knew that I had been asked to come on-board so that I could keep an eye on everyone and make sure they weren't fucking off. These guys are awful about getting anything done and they need people, usually myself, to keep them productive. Now, as much as I hate playing "Nanny Do-right" to these Douche nozzles, I feel that it is my duty. Among other senses, it is my sense of piety that I fear for with this lot. If I had not agreed, I fear that these godless Schmucks would spew nothing but shit and sprinkles. I promise to not let this happen as I have everyone's best intentions in mind and Jeebus in my corner.
In Jeebus all things are probable.

I will say that one of my biggest complaints about working with these fuck sticks has been their constant railing against religion. Atheists and Agnostics, all. Agnostics, seriously... "I have seen nothing that proves that I have any knowledge of evidence that leans towards the possibility that there may be a chance of something else out there that could give us information leading to some insight on the subject of god." Grow a sack and tell people your opinion pussy. It's either, "Yes, I believe in god and I will go to heaven where my joyous soul will thrive forever" or "No, my feeble mind can't possibly comprehend the concept of God so I get to spend my eternal days in a flaming lake of Hellfire, thanks for asking!"

The reason people don't grasp the after-life is simple; People can only think in finites. Once you realize this and open your mind to the “in-finites”, it really is a lot simpler to understand. With in-finites, you get forever. Eternal bliss or suffering. Omnipotence, etc. Infinity is the key here. Open your mind and you will see how easy it is. Too many people have “Science” stuck in their vagina and resort to “logic” and “reasoning” as their path. Have fun at lake Burny McSuckit heathens! Shut your free-thinking mouth and say “Moo” with the rest of us.

Zach Morris is the Anti-Christ!

NO!!! Not our good-natured, mischievous, detention dweller from bayside high! How could I say such a thing?? Allow me to explain.

Zach Morris is just one of the characters that began the downfall of society. I am of course referring to the now commonplace “Stupid is Cool” school of thought. We started seeing it in the 80’s – the “cool” kids were the ones that failed classes, cheated on tests, cut school, and caused lots of trouble. The meathead jocks without a brain were included in this “elite” class, as well as the hot cheerleader blondes.

Society (especially young children) immediately followed this new classification of people. How is it that our society has willfully subscribed to such a ridiculous set of standards? Brainwashing.

We are constantly bombarded with media; whether it is Movies, TV, Music, Internet, cartoons, comic books, etc. The general rule for making a good, lovable character is to dumb him or her down. This lets the viewer feel superior to, and not threatened by this character. Even brilliant characters have to include aspects of mischief (such as Val Kilmer’s character from “Real Genius”). This need to make the characters approachable and funny has created 2 RULES FOR LIFE:

1. Stupid people that don’t care about school, work, or their future are cool, popular, funny and lovable.

2. An intelligent person that focuses on grades, their career or generally strives for achievement is a dork, and should be shunned.

This has turned our kids in to people that are ashamed of intelligence. Just think about that for a second. If you have a brain that functions on a higher level than the average (Americans have an average IQ of around 98 points), then you should be ASHAMED. You should hide this brilliance, and not put it to good use, or apply it to your studies or career. To do so, would make you a dork, and will assure that you never get laid.

Hip-hop culture has taken this concept to a new level. Such masters of the English language as Lil’ Jon and Soulja Boy are signs of just how low we have sunk. Using correct English makes you a nerd. Wearing clothes that fit makes you fag. Being intelligent? That shit will get you killed. And god forbid you’re black – because then you’re just “trying to act white”.

Now let’s suppose that you ignore the above RULES FOR LIFE. Just pretend that you don’t care what your classmates think about you. You determine that your brain is capable of comprehension beyond other people. You focus all of this new-found brainpower on studying, reading, learning and excelling. You may be considered an outcast in High School. There will be other outcasts that you can socialize with. It is a temporary inconvenience, so you work through it.

In college, you will notice that your focus on studies is more accepted (except for in the frat house), and that there are many more people with your same goals. You may even be able to get a like-minded girlfriend at this point!

After college, you will be able to get a good job (assuming you have chosen a good major). This means more money in your pocket, and the ability to buy nicer things (like a house and a car). You are most likely in your early to mid twenties now – with a career, house and a car. This is a very good place to be! If you apply yourself to your job, like you have to school, chances are you will move up, and make MORE money.

The “Cool” kids at school who focused more on being funny than making good grades are most likely living with their parents, working at Best Buy.

Now which of these 2 scenarios sounds more desirable? How about more desirable to the opposite sex? Let’s continue..

Continuing down your enlightened path, you will probably find a good spouse, and lead a comfortable life. You will probably have saved enough and invested enough that you will have the option to retire early.
You can now live the rest of your life in rest and luxury.

The “cool” kid may have eventually found a job in sales or real estate, but most likely stayed in some dead-end job. He will live check-to-check his whole life, and probably “retire” when he dies or just can’t handle it anymore.

All so he could hang out with the cheerleaders 50 years ago.
I wish that I could say I knew this in my school years. I wish that I could show you my degrees and my 4.0 GPA’s. I can’t. I too fell victim to this cancer on society - although not nearly as bad as some. Even though it was discovered at a very young age that I had a genius IQ, at around 9th grade, I stopped caring. I wanted to be one of the cool kids.. I got my GED at 17, and went to community college for a few semesters, but then dropped out.

Luckily, I stumbled in to a tech support job, and started my technical career at 18. Due to this stroke of luck, I have been able to undo a lot of my teenage mistakes. I am in my late twenties now, and again working on getting my degree. However, I can’t help but wonder where I would be right now if Zach Morris hadn’t planted his set of ideals in my brain at a young age.

Nazis, KKK, Religious Fanaticism, Genocide, Terrorism, and Saved By the Bell – Human Atrocities that forever have, and will continue to, destroy society.

Give It Up For Ultraporn

Posted by E

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

How about the two of us play a little game? I want you to close your eyes and think very hard about the absolute most disgusting and reprehensible thing you can possibly imagine. It doesn't matter how vile, perverse or disturbing it may be. I'd just like you to focus on it for a minute.

Done? Good, go ahead and open your eyes. Okay, tell me what it was you thought of. Don't worry, I won't think less of you, no matter what it was. In fact, if it's filthy enough I might even think MORE of you.

Now let's get to the upsetting part. Whatever it was you just thought of, regardless of whether it turns your stomach or makes your blood boil, either way somebody masturbates to it.

Don't believe me? Hit google. No matter WHAT you thought of, I'll bet it's been filmed and I'll bet somebody's charging $20 a month for dudes to come spank to it. (In all likelihood, it was filmed in Japan.)

It boggles the mind when you really sit and think about it. Every single thing that has ever been conceived since the dawn of time is somebody's total turn on. This thought occurred to me this morning as I followed one of those links I knew I'd regret seeing. (For the record, a Japanese woman tongue fucking not one but TWO dogs' asses!)

Let that sink in for a minute. Somebody had to recognize the marketability of human/canine analingus. They had to then go and analyze the market to determine just how niche it was, then take the time to get some equipment, hire an actress and get their hands on a couple of dogs. And why? Because someone out there (very likely the next cube/desk over) really wants to see a dog have its chocolate starfish violated by the probing tongue of a young Japanese woman in a schoolgirl's outfit.

As we become more numbed to perversity, thanks in no small part to the internet, peoples' tastes for the pornographic seem to be wavering more towards the extreme. Is this because we've seen it all at this point?

Why settle for plain old vanilla fellatio when you can load up a Max Hardcore film and watch him make those beauties vomit from the forceful face fucking (ooh, alliteration!) he so unpleasantly dishes out?

2 Girls 1 Cup? Pffft. How about 2 Girls 12 Eels? Seen it. Octopus stuffing? Yawn. Cakefarting? Who doesn't like cake? 620 person gangbangs? That's so 2006.

Every time I see a video of this ilk I am transported back to my childhood. (Cue Pepperidge Farms music.) NO, my childhood was NOT that fucked up. Let me explain...

See, I was a kid back in a simpler time, a time when all we had was a 9 year old issue of Playboy that we'd surreptitiously read in the storm drains at my elementary school and the occasional late night Skinemax movie. We were 14 before we were able to get our hands on our first adult movie, thanks to Terry's dad being piss poor at hiding stuff. (For the record, it was called Live Nude Girl and featured a great lesbian scene set to a muzak version of "We're Not Gonna Take It" with dialog so hilarious that 20 years later we still quote it when we get together.) For years the best we could do was an occasional GIF image on a floppy disk.

And today? Jesus. If I could have had access to 24 hour a day amputee fisting, I don't believe I'd ever have left the house. I would have grown up without friends. Why go out and hang with other kids when you can watch a Japanese woman vomit into a bowl, eat that vomit, then force herself to RE-VOMIT it out, only to RE-CONSUME it. That shit is amazing.

Alright, so this is largely tongue in cheek. (Pardon the pun.) I shudder to think that today's kids will actually view this material and find it humdrum and ordinary. What the hell are they going to have to do for the next generation of kids? If everything I've described above becomes the norm, then somebody (the Japanese) is going to have to produce something even MORE vile.

Just like rock and roll has always been about bugging your parents, so too must modern day porn be about offending the shit out of everybody. (Except those who would rush over to eat it afterwards.)

So, I guess it's up to us, as the adults of today, to come up with the ultra porn of tomorrow. Let's take a gander at it, shall we? (If your name is "my mother", please stop reading if you have not already done so. If your name is "my psychiatrist", please pretend that somebody else is writing this.)

The scene opens on a putrescent corpse, green and bloated, with all manner of creepy crawlies munching on the skin which has begun to slough off the skull. A young hermaphrodite lays nearby, inserting the rotting toes of the corpse into her female parts while jabbing at the male bits with a cactus connected to a car battery.

A man with a knife enters the frame and begins stabbing at the corpse, explosive bursts of decompositional gasses blasting forth with each abdominal thrust. The hermaphrodite continues the self satisfaction as a donkey is lead into the room, a box of scorpions affixed on its back.

Almost on cue, as the hermaphrodite begins fellating the donkey, the man with the knife begins pulling out large handfuls of maggot laden viscera and excrement from the corpse. He carries this detritus over to the man in the gimp suit who is missing his lower jaw. The man with the blade affixes a funnel into gimpy's cavernous gullet and forces the foul mixture into the gimp's stomach.

As the gimp begins to shudder with violent, retching spasms, blade man goes back to the hermaphrodite and stabs he/she in the abdomen . Gimpy quickly runs over and vomits into the gaping knife wounds before taking the knife from blade man and carving off his own testicles, which he then excitedly tosses to the mating tigers in the corner.

Gimpy then loosens the funnel wrenched in his throat and affixes it into the pulsing rectum of the hermaphrodite. Blades then proceeds to fill the funnel (and consequently the rectum) with the writhing contents of the scorpion box.

At this point the parade of disfigured midgets marches into camera, each waving their dessicated and missing limbs at the camera before making their way over to the litter boxes. After ganging up on the weakest of the lot, the midgets proceed with smashing out the teeth of their victim before taking turns urinating into its bleeding and swollen mouth.

The whole scene concludes with the placing of the hornet hive over the manhood of the hermaphrodite, while the most muscular midget fists its abdominal knife wound.


This whole depraved and disturbing scenario brings forth a few burning questions that I intend to set to work immediately to answer, such as; where can I rent the cameras, where can I find some midgets and how much do I charge for it once it's filmed?

No, I Will Not Fix Your Computer

Would you call your paleontologist friend up at 9:00 at night just to ask with help differentiating a Cambrian from a Paleozoic trilobite? Would you expect some physicist that you barely know as a third-party acquaintance to drop what they're doing and assist with your kid's homework? Then why would you expect me to come and fix your computer?

Has it ever occurred to you that I spend my entire day working on machines and that JUST MAYBE I would rather not have a pile of them to deal with when I get home? Did it cross your mind that perhaps I like to enjoy some of my free time, just like anybody else?

Have you noticed that stores exist that make a lot of money by helping people out with their problems? Just because I have a little knowledge I should be expected to do it all for free? (Or at least dirt cheap)

Let me say this one more time, a little more clearly. No, I will not fix your computer.

You see, if I agree to come to your place and work on it (or allow you to drop it off at my place), then you make assumptions about our future interactions.

For example, if I work on your machine today, that does not mean that you get a lifetime warranty from me, nor does it mean that I absolutely insist on resolving every issue you ever experience.

"Remember when you installed Office for me in 1997? Well, now Internet Explorer won't start. It must be from something you did."

It isn't.

I know little Jimmy is having a rough go of it, not being able to use his computer. Perhaps he shouldn't have installed Limewire so that he can get all of these infected warez. Fuck, kid, if you're going to pirate, at least do it right.

Good job infecting that thing with over 3,000 different kinds of malware, grayware, spyware, adware, trojans and viruses. Thank god cleaning that shit up is a breeze and guaranteed to maintain stability.

Here you go, Jimmy, I just spent nine hours cleaning it all up for you. What's that, you downloaded "deadly_virus.exe" and ran it? Looks like you hosed your system up again. Let me give you two words of advice.

Fuck you.

Fix your own goddamn problems.

As much as I love sitting down to work on a machine only to see 119 programs loaded in the system tray, I'm gonna have to pass.

Shocking, I know, but I really have no desire to deal with your constant phone calls, asking for this answer or that, demanding your machine be finished and otherwise hassling me while I'm trying to scour your machine for whatever halfway decent porn you might have stashed away.

What? You don't even have GOOD porn? Sigh, why am I even looking at this thing?

Seriously, Jimmy, I don't give one shit about your computer woes. If you would just practice a little common sense, perhaps you wouldn't have clicked the link in the spam that simply read, "Good boner is what she really need".

And, for the love of Christ, do NOT give my phone number out to others. Yeah, there's nothing greater than the late night phone call from the friend of the sister of the aunt of the cousin of the hairdresser of the dog groomer of some dude that was friends with a guy that I bumped into a Burger King back in 1984 asking for computer tips because they heard that I'm "in the know".

I can appreciate that you're a neophyte. I'm the same way when I have to take my car to a mechanic. You see, Jimmy, I can call my mechanic friends and ask them those kinds of questions because I can barter with them. I'll fix their computer if they can help me with my car. You, being a teenager, have little to nothing of value to me. Ooooh, you'll give me a bunch of mp3's from My Bloody Valentine and Jimmy Eat World if I help you? How can I say no to that?!?!

I'm not trying to be an asshole here, Jimmy. If you had a marketable or useful skill, you'd understand. But I've noticed that you seem to have difficulty tying your shoes without drooling all over your hands.

You're an idiot, Jimmy. Plain and simple. Quit asking me for help.

The Worst Day EVER!!!

Posted by Doodface

Monday, July 28, 2008

God, today was pure hell. You would not BELIEVE the day I had!

It started as soon as I woke up. My atomic alarm clock played the WRONG mp3 for my alarm! How am I supposed to start my day without the theme from Rocky getting my blood flowing!?!

Then I go to step in the shower, and the shower CD player's volume won't go high enough. AGAIN, I am denied my motivational music being delivered to me properly. I had to bathe with barely audible "Eye of the Tiger" playing! More like eye of the 3-toed sloth, right? RIGHT?

After my shower, I get dressed, and head out to the kitchen. The automatic timer on the coffee maker was set to PM instead of AM! I actually had to PRESS the "Brew" button, and WAIT 4 minutes!!

I should just go back to bed.

I gather up my PDA phone and MP3 player, and get on my way to work. I try to make a call using my car's bluetooth, and it's telling me it can't find my phone!! WHAT THE FUCK??? IT'S IN MY POCKET! How am I supposed to live like this? So after I turn on bluetooth on my phone, it FINALLY connects properly. THEN I tell it; "Call Work". What do you think it does? It responds with "Calling Mark"!! DAMMIT!!!! So at this point, I actually have to take my phone OUT OF MY POCKET, and select which contact to dial. Infuriating.

I plug in the MP3 player to my car's USB port, so that I can continue listening to the audio book that I have been enjoying. Well wouldn't you know it, after I plug it in, and it synchronizes with my car, it can't find the book files. So now I can't even listen to a book on the way to work (what, like I have time to READ??). So now I am stuck with the choices of the other 1000 songs on the MP3 player, Satellite Radio, or plain old radio. Shit.

I pull out my phone on the way to work to check e-mail, see what the weather will be like, and see if there are any new blog posts. It is so goddamned slow that you would think I was on a GPRS connection, and not 3G! GPRS - ha, imagine that!

I finally make it to work, after my GPS tries to get me around traffic. YES, I avoided all of the traffic associated with that wreck on I-85, but I had to go through like 3 stop signs!! What a peice of crap.

When I get in to my office, for some reason, my computer had shut down over the weekend. So now I have to sit there and wait for it to boot (there's 15 seconds of my life I will never get back!!). After it FINALLY boots up, I have to wait as my anti-virus, anti-spam, firewall, and e-mail update. This is normally done all the time, but since it had been shutdown, I had to wait while it caught up. This is just getting ridiculous!! So while it is updating, I continue to work (but at a slightly slower pace, since the computer is BUSY doing other things).

After e-mail updates, I see that the automated spam filter is really dropping the ball. I had to MANUALLY delete like 20 messages from my inbox! Again, 15 seconds of my life; GONE.

After 8 hours of similiar frustrations at work, I finally am off the clock, and on my way to the gym. I grab my MP3 player, and head in to do some cardio. A mere 45 minutes in, the MP3 player dies!! RIGHT in the middle of "You’re The Best"!! I JUST had it on the charger 3 days ago, WTF?? So I have to finish my workout listening to the shitty radio they play at the gym. And you guessed it, not ONCE did they play "eye of the tiger". Tragedy.

After I get home from the gym, I sit down to watch some TV. I grab my Logitech Universal Remote, and turn everything on. On this remote, I am supposed to press one button, and the TV turns on, the Sound is un-muted, and the Tivo is set to the main screen. Well, the surround-sound system didn't automatically unmute. I have to hold my arm like 3 FEET to the left to get it to unmute. Shouldn't this $350 remote be able to send signals AROUND the couch and laundry basket?

So now the TV is on and ready to go. I know that my favorite show was recorded last night, so I pull up the Tivo list. HOLY SHIT. It didn't record last night's "Deadliest Catch"!! Apparently, I had scheduled 2 other shows at the same time, and it recorded those instead!! So now I either have to go download the show (which would take like 10 minutes!!), or wait until it repeats tonight at midnight.

Fuck it.

What an infuriating day! I cannot imagine having it any worse. I am sure you are sympathetic though. Thanks for your prayers!

Wait! When Did That Happen?

Posted by E

Thursday, July 24, 2008

The arrival of a new Star Wars film in the theater is always a major event in my life, and the release of Revenge of the Sith in May of 2005 was no exception. In the context of my own life experience, the arrival of Episode 3 could be considered the most important and exciting cinematic event of my lifetime.

My whole life had been building up to the release of this film, beginning with the release of the original Star Wars in 1977. My entire childhood had been built around the mythology that these movies created. Even during the 16 year gap between trilogies, I could still be found watching the films, collecting the toys and reading the novels. Hell, when Episode 1 was released and I saw it for the first time, I cried when the opening music blasted and the text crawl began.

Yes, I really am that much of a geek.

Episode 3 was to be a milestone in my life, marking the end of the Star Wars series as a live action theatrical experience and finishing the story begun nearly thirty years previous. Not to mention the focus of this episode was to be the rise of the Empire and the fall of Anakin Skywalker. This would be the emergence of Darth Vader, quite possibly the coolest character ever created in any medium. In the space of two hours, George Lucas would present to us the final events that turned Anakin from the universe's whiniest bitch to the darkest force of evil ever known.

Within the first 24 hours of its release, I had managed 4 viewings of Revenge of the Sith. As is standard for me, I took everybody I knew to see the film, sometimes paying for both tickets. All of my friends wanted to see this movie with me, as they all know what the Star Wars universe means to me. (And it doesn't hurt seeing a movie like this with a walking encyclopedia to help explain everything that's happening.) One such pairing for this film was my sister and her husband, who joined me for a weekend matinee.

My sister has been exposed to the Star Wars films for the entire run of my life, more or less. I watched them obsessively as a child and could recite the scripts verbatim. I cannot count how many times she came to watch the television, only to have to deal with me geeking out for the umpteenth time.

But despite the endless barrage of movies, toys and discussions, she's never really figured out what the movies are all about. Yeah, she's seen them, but she never cared enough to fully digest them. Starting a discussion on the topic brings to the forefront almost immediately how little she's paid attention all these years. The final hour of Return of the Jedi, with its four plots intertwining has always remained a source of confusion for her.

I knew full well going into this viewing that she would not fully understand what was going on, but if nothing else the movie was exciting and had plenty of eye candy to stare at. But her complete lack of comprehension of the plot was fully divined to me as we left the theater and made our way back to the car.

Me: So, what did you think?

Her: Honestly, I really liked it. That's the first one of those movies that I truly enjoyed. I think I'll probably buy it when it comes out on DVD.

Me: Really? That's awesome! Yeah, I really liked it, too. It really tied everything together quite nicely.

Her: I do have one question, though.

Me: Okay, what's up?

Her: At the end, when Darth Vader got up off that table, he kind of wobbled when he walked. What was up with that?

Me: Well, he just had robotic legs put on. He wasn't used to walking on them yet.

Her: Robot legs? When did that happen?


Allow me to remind you of the ending of Revenge of the Sith. Anakin, having turned to the dark side and assuming the title of Darth Vader, was sent by the Emperor to Mustafar to eliminate the remaining separatists. He is followed there by Padme, who seeks to confront Anakin about his actions. Obi-Wan, unbeknownst to Padme, has sneaked aboard her ship. He appears during Padme and Anakin's discussion and in a blind rage Anakin attacks Padme. This quickly devolves into a confrontation between Anakin and Obi-Wan, followed by an extended lightsaber duel on the molten surface of Mustafar.

Obi-Wan emerges the victor in this battle after successfully liberating Anakin's left arm and both of his legs from his torso. Obi-Wan leaves the limbless form of Anakin to die on the surface, and as he leaves Anakin bursts into flame.

Anakin is rescued by the Emperor, who takes his charred body to a secret lab in order to have robotic limbs grafted to his body. Vader's transformation is completed when he is encased within his mask, making him more machine than man, completely dependent on his suit for survival. This entire scene is played out with a myriad of droids assembling his limbs and surgically attaching them to Anakin while he screams in agony.


Me: That's what that whole scene was! They were giving him new legs and arms since his had been cut off.

Her: Cut off? When did THAT happen?

Me: Are you serious? Obi-Wan sliced them off in their duel.

Her: I didn't notice that.

Me: DIDN'T NOTICE?!? You don't remember him writhing on the ground and screaming before catching on fire?

Her: No.


I was stunned. Absolutely flummoxed and flabbergasted. Like I said, I know she doesn't pay much attention to the films, but really, she didn't notice the fetishized closeups of his mangled frame rolling around while burning?

I found myself more amused, than anything. I have related this story many times over the years. I mentioned it to her yesterday and she didn't have any memory of that conversation. Too funny.

Since then, I have many times considered taking the same stance after a film, just to get a rise out of my fellow movie watchers.

"Yeah, Passion of the Christ was really good, but what I couldn't figure out was, why did he die at the end?"

"I really liked Pulp Fiction, but why was Marcellus Wallace going to have Zed killed?"

I guess some of us just watch movies differently.

Karma: It’s a cold, procrastinating bitch.

Posted by Doodface

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

I am not one that believes in supernatural powers of any kind. I don’t think that there is a God, ghosts, poltergeists, levitation, ESP, etc... That being said, at times there does seem to be a force that punishes evil (or at least shitty) deeds.

In junior high, I met a life-long friend of mine – we’ll call him “Jim”. We were in some of the same classes together, and had almost nothing in common – besides being white kids in a 99% black school. We never really talked until one time I saw him at the skating rink on a Saturday night. And for all of you haters out there; the skating rink was the shit. He was out of school that Friday, so I just went up and asked where he had been.. From that point on we were best of friends – even though his sister scared the shit out of me (long story, but she was crazy)!

We quickly were inseparable, and spent most weekends spending the night at each other’s houses. One night while I was spending the night at Jim’s house, he was talking to a girl that he was trying to hook up with (whatever that means at 14). We’ll call her “Ashley”. He had been out on a ”date” with her recently, and apparently they had made out. All was looking well for him, until I came in to the picture.

While he was talking to her on the phone, I was in the background saying “funny” things and making her laugh. She actually told Jim to hand the phone to me, because I was funny. From that point on, she was mine. Yes, I had just swooped in, and stolen the girl that my best friend was trying to date! MAJOR violation of bro-code. At the time, this thought never crossed my mind. I was even more of an asshole then than I am now.

Well I ended up dating Ashley for 2 years, and she was truly my first love. I can’t describe to you how infatuated I was with her. And she was PERFECT. So nice, so caring, big boobs (which is like daily trips Disneyworld when you’re 14 or 15), and she let me get to third base with her on a regular basis. But she was actually TOO nice, and TOO submissive, and I started to take her for granted.

We went to separate schools, and there were girls at my school that I was interested in, and that were interested in me. So I would pull the ultimate asshole move: I would break up with her, date one of the girls from my school, break up with that girl when I got bored of her, and then go back to Ashley a week later. She took me back every single time, like my personal slave. Until she didn’t.

No amount of begging would get her back; I had fucked up for the last time. The cold realization of what I had done flooded over me, and I realized that I had lost her forever. And even worse, I had recently transferred to her school, which started the month after this went down. I had to see her every day.

Over the next few years, I dated a crazy girl on again and off again that we’ll call Elizabeth. Strangely enough, this girl too started off as Jim’s girl, but this one he turned away by his choice (VERY smart move on his part). Elizabeth was a giant pain in my ass, and extremely immature. I don’t know that I have one good memory of her... But this was only the first dose of karmic ass-rape.

Over these years, Ashley never left my mind. I thought about her a lot, and always thought of her as the perfect girl that I let get away.

In December of 1998, I had a good paying job, had lost a bunch of weight, and was feeling pretty damn good about myself. I figured if I ever had a shot with Ashley again, it was now. I called her up out of the blue (3 years after last speaking to her), and asked her if she wanted to go out some time. Even though she was dating someone, she agreed (this should have been my first clue that she was unstable).

We went out a few times, and once again, she was mine. I quickly noticed however, that this was not the same Ashley from my younger years. Sweet, submissive, caring Ashley had turned in to Jealous, Controlling, OCD Bitch. Even with all those wonderful traits, I loved her. I think I still saw her for what she was in the past. We moved in together pretty quickly, and in November of 2001, got married.

Now before we got married, I knew she had issues. I had VERY close female friends that I basically was forced to abandon due to her uncontrollable jealousy. She would spend hundreds of dollars on beanie babies and her favorite band’s memorabilia, but then scream at me if I bought a coffee on the bank card. I would get yelled at if I didn’t hang shirts up in the closet facing the right direction. She would make fun of all my friends, and judge them. We weren’t allowed to hang out with my friends, only hers – which I referred to as the “Redneck Rampage”. Bitch was crazy. I stupidly hoped that marriage would change things - It didn’t.

10 months after getting married, I found out that she was cheating on me with a co-worker of hers.

Karma, you fucking bitch.

She never could explain WHY she did it – she said that I treated her perfectly, and was the best guy ever, she just wasn’t happy. I couldn’t figure it out either – until after we split up. At first I wanted to work things out, so I was given a book on “tough love”. This book is basically a manual on how to keep crazy bitches in check. So following the book’s suggestions, I started backing off, acting like I didn’t care, acting like I was moving on. This immediately made me so attractive to her, that she was chasing me like crazy, and trying to get me in to bed. It felt real good to turn her down, by the way. While it was tempting to take her back, seeing this display really solidified how crazy she was. I moved on for good, and she eventually married the guy that she cheated on me with.

Jim stuck with me through all of it (even though Ashley had hurt my relationship with him as well), and Karma got the revenge for him. I guess I had paid my dues, as I soon after found my current wife. She is almost too perfect. She is way too hot to be with me, very easy going, shares my world views, and is someone that I can just talk to for hours. I am glad that Karma punished me early in life.

I hope she is done with me.

Spoiler Alert!

Posted by E

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

I read on the internet prior to my trip to see The Dark Knight this weekend that showings of the movie on IMAX would be preceded by an exclusive 15 second trailer for the new Harry Potter movie. First off, YES, I am a dork for Harry Potter. I've read all the books (at least twice each) and can readily argue and debate the entire story arc ad nauseum. Knowing this, it should come as little surprise that I was intrigued by the possibility of an early glimpse at the sixth movie.

But, of course I am the jaded type, and I knew full well that 15 seconds ain't shit when it comes to previewing a new film. We bandied the idea about in the office that the trailer would consist of nothing more than Harry standing there, wand drawn, only to have the title drop down in front of him.

We weren't far from the truth.

In actuality, it was a single line of dialog (spoken by Dumbledore) followed by the title and the announcement that it was coming in November. A bit of a disappointment.

This got me to thinking about the awesomeness that COULD HAVE BEEN, had they hired me to edit together the trailer for the sixth film. My trailer is thus:

Camera zooms in on Severus Snape, his wand drawn, face curled back in a sneer.
"Avada Kedavra!" he shouts, and a green flash fills the screen followed by Dumbledore's corpse flying out of a window.
"WHAT HAPPENS NEXT? HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF BLOOD PRINCE - NOVEMBER 2008"

Now granted, for the millions of children that haven't read the book yet, this will upset them. Fuck them, I say. If you can't be bothered to read the book, you have no business complaining. Personally, I think that'd make a great trailer.

You could really work these out for a ton of films.

Trailer 1:
"Coming this summer, the exciting conclusion to the Star Wars trilogy."
Clip 1: The Emperor says to Luke, "And now, young Skywalker, you will die."
Clip 2: Yoda dies and then disappears.
Clip 3: The Emperor says, "I assure you we are quite safe from your friends here."
Clip 4: Vader throws a screaming Emperor down the reactor shaft.
Clip 5: The Death Star explodes.
Clip 6: A maskless Darth Vader falls back and dies.
The title appears on the screen: "Return of the Jedi, coming summer 1983"


Trailer 2:
Rawlston: What were Kane's last words?
Dissolve to Kane laying in his bed, dying. He utters the word "Rosebud" and drops a snow globe onto the floor, shattering it.
Rawlston: When he comes to die, he's got something on his mind called Rosebud. What does that mean?
Cut to a pile of items being shoveled into a furnace. Atop that pile is a sled. The camera zooms in and we see the word Rosebud written on it.
"Citizen Kane - Coming soon"


Trailer 3:
Charlton Heston looks at the screen and screams, "Soylent Green is people!"
Title card: "What is the secret of Soylent Green?"


Had I seen any of these trailers prior to seeing the respective films, I probably would have gone to see them, figuring if the stuff they're showing is that earth shattering, just imagine what the rest of the film must be like!

As an aside to this, I really did have a similar experience with Return of the Jedi.

Jedi, as mentioned above, came out in May of 1983, a time when movie theaters only had one, maybe two screens. Being a child of that era, I was absolutely obsessed with Star Wars, and the three year gap between the films was an eternity for me. I tried to pass the time as best I could with the myriad toys and novelties available, but nothing could match the excitement of actually seeing the films on the big screen.

As the release of Jedi approached, I began a full blown campaign to remind my parents on an hourly basis of the exact date of release, and implore of them with my biggest and most adorable eyes to take the family to view what was, for my money, the third arrival of Christ.

You see, I had a man crush on Darth Vader. Vader was my boy. I was absolutely inspired by a man who could walk into a room and have every mouth close out of complete fear. This was a guy who didn't sweat bad news, he just strangled the messenger. Vader was not one to be trifled with. If I could have grown up to be anybody, it would be Vader. (Fun fact: The life-size Vader that Doodface referred to? Still in my house. As well as a painting of Vader that has hung in every bedroom I've slept in since 1986.)

After weeks and months of cajoling, I finally got the parental units to agree to take us to the film. Though I had immersed myself in Star Wars lore, I had done my best to avoid spoilers, as I wanted to savor the movie as it arrived. Especially since Empire had ended on such an awesome note, with that candy ass Luke getting his hand lopped off and having his innocence stripped from him. (Again, mad love to Vader.)

Off to the theater we went to stand in line for who knows how many hours. You didn't just "pop in" to see a new Star Wars film, you had to tough it out. Boys became men in those lines. And wait we did, until we ended up in the final stretch of waiting in the lobby of the theater.

Like I said, this theater only had two screens, both of which were showing Jedi at the time. And as we stood there in the lobby I couldn't help but notice that we could hear the movie coming from one of the theaters.

Here I was, just minutes away from seeing the glory of Jedi with my own eyes and I was hearing the ending. The awful, devastating, miserable ending. The Emperor dies? The Death Star blows up? Vader dies?!?!? DARTH FUCKING VADER DIES?!?!?!?

In that instant my heart dropped through my stomach, my bowels released and I fell to the ground in an inconsolable heap, tears streaming from my eyes as I looked to the heavens screaming "WHY? Why Vader?!? Take me instead, but NOT VADER!!!"

My parents did their best to ease my suffering, but I merely rocked back and forth, clutching at my sides, repeating over and over, "He's not dead, he can't be dead, he's not dead, he can't be dead..." I can't really recall the rest of the evening, particularly after the EMT crew arrived and gave me that shot.

It's 25 years later now, and though I've never forgiven George Lucas for taking away the greatest hero of all time, I've at least come to grips with the fact. Most days I can make it through without crying. The medication helps.



SPOILER ALERT!
If you haven't read Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince or seen Return of the Jedi, Citizen Kane and/or Soylent Green, DO NOT read the preceding article.

He's not making this shit up..

Since I am a guest on Mr. Heittenflaugen’s blog, and this is my first post, I will give you MY perspective of the man you know as E, and how I came to know him. In November of 1999, I was 20 years old, and recently had quit my shitty IT job. The company that I had worked for was a joke, and run by complete assholes. That company went under a couple months after I quit, which made me very happy.

Of course, being 20 years old, I quit this job without having a new source of income. Being fresh out of my teen years, I was indestructible, so I knew the rent would get paid "somehow". Luckily for me and my roommate, I found a new job very quickly doing technical support for a software company. This is where I met E. I will get to him later.

The support department consisted of 4 people: Me, E, Giant Cockface, and The Smartest man alive. I was hired not for my knowledge, but for my track record, and the ability to learn. What this boils down to, is that I didn't know shit about shit.

Giant CockFace was my boss, and as you can gather by his name, was a Giant Cockface. I will have to write another post about him one day, as I cannot stress to you the level cockfactiousness that this man exudes in this paragraph. I immediately started off on the wrong foot with this guy by giving him a nickname that basically referred to him as a giant, walking phallus (which E found to be hilarious). Needless to say, we became enemies from "go".

The smartest man alive was extremely intimidating. He also lacked patience with anyone less intelligent than himself (which is everyone). Asking him a question, even a complicated one, would result in the most condescending attitude imaginable. After asking what I considered to be a complex technical question, he would look at me as if I had just inquired on how to remove the feces from my underwear. No matter what the question was, it would usually result in an eye-roll, a sigh, and a patronizing response. This got real old, real fast, so I quickly began to avoid him at all cost.

I was quickly running out of people to turn to. Did I mention that I am kind of an asshole, and tend to alienate myself? Luckily E was there. He was immediately friendly, helpful, and forgiving of my assholish ways. He took me under his wing, and taught me how to properly do the job. If it were not for him, I can guarantee that I would have been fired pretty quickly. To repay him for his kindness, I gave him the name Heittenflauggen in my first week on the job - mainly because I couldn't remember his real last name. While being a very nice guy, and easy to get along with, this is not the "fun" part of E.

As I soon found out, E is a weird guy. The more I worked with him, the more of his little quirks started to surface. It started innocently, with his fascination with Star Wars. Yes, that in itself is nerdy, but E takes it to another level. At the time, his apartment was filled with Star Wars toys and memorabilia (including a life-size darth vader). Oh, did I mention the 3 Star Wars tattoos? He can also name pretty much any character that has ever showed up in the movies (even the ones in the background that are never mentioned), and give their back story.

My favorite of E's quirks has to be the endless list of phobias. One of my favorite cures of office boredom is to get him to start naming some of the things he is afraid of. Some of my favorites are: Flushing Toilets, Corners, Hallways, open windows, CLOSED windows, and Dolls. The dolls are especially fun, because you can get to see it in action. For a real fun day, just leave a doll sitting on his desk. He will become visibly frightened, and shy away while making references to their dead, soul-less eyes staring at him. I love hearing stories of him flushing the toilet when he is home alone, and immediately running in fear (I also picture a girlish squeal as he runs from the toilet).

As previously mentioned, E is a good boredom killer. Listening to his stories of a strange childhood, or of his phobias is quite entertaining. However, my all-time favorite boredom killer is the "what will he eat?" game. Being a typical office, we get fast food or food delivered here quite often. We hang on to the condiments from these meals in case we need them for future meals. We also keep food in drawers for lunches and such. Well over the years, these condiments and snacks turn in to new creations. These are the tools that make this game possible. On a day of extreme boredom, I will start digging through drawers to find the weirdest, oldest stuff that could be consumed. E immediately takes on a look of dread, as he knows what this means. I will put something in front of him, and beg him to eat it. he occasionally puts up some resistance, but unless it is unsafe, he will eventually give in. Watching him choke down these goodies puts me in tears every single time. To see him struggling to get down a heaping spoonful of powdered chicken bouillon is just magic. He once ate a slim jim that was so old, it could have been considered petrified. All of the oil had seeped out from the "meat", and left this shriveled, leathery stick. Yes he choked it down, but it wasn't easy. In other feats of gurgitation, he took down 12 packets of splenda at once, a giant pouch of chili sauce, and countless "aged" condiments.

E is by no means a side show freak that everyone laughs at. He laughs at himself, and knows that his idiosyncrasies are strange and amusing. He thrives on the fact that he is an outright geek, and will proclaim it proudly. His fascinations with horror, blood, guts, and other atrocities do not make him menacing in any way. To read some of his posts, you may wonder when he is going to go on a killing spree, but trust me, he's harmless. I describe him as "lovably quirky", not psychotic.

Greetings and Salutations

Posted by E

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Omniphobic...The icy chill that runs through your veins when you hear a noise downstairs in the middle of the night.

Omniphobic...The terror that shoots through your body as you see the imminent accident approaching.

Omniphobic...That sick feeling in the pit of your stomach as you sense your rights being stripped away by a government gone mad.

We are all living in an omniphobic state, our existence merely a collection of reflexive instincts in the interest of self preservation. Whether we come to grips with our fear and adapt or let it run our lives, either way those fears compel and drive us, causing us to be the people we are.

The world around us sees fit to keep us pumped full of fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of failure. Fear of owning the wrong car. Fear of others. Hardly an hour goes by where fear doesn't force our hand on some decision.

Fear is reality. Fear is natural. Fear is intrinsically human. We ARE fear.

How we choose to live with this fear determines who we are as a person. Some of us cower from the world, wrapping ourselves in comforting tales intended to shield us from that which we cannot understand. Some of us live behind a mask, hiding our vulnerabilities behind a veil of humor or anger. Some of us use that fear to fuel our personalities, turning negative energy into positive.

Fear binds us as a species. We may not share the same fears, but fear lives in all of us.


With that, welcome to Omniphobic, a new project from yours truly and a host of other writers, some familiar to the Bonez readers, some you will be experiencing for the first time.

Let me begin your time with Omniphobic by putting forward a simple and direct philosophy for what we will be doing here.

Content is king.

That's it. It's as simple as that.

The overriding spirit of this blog is to provide our readers with interesting, original, and above all varied content.

Predictability is boring.

It is our intent that every visit to Omniphobic will be a new experience for our readers. It is our intent to ensure that you never quite know what to expect here.

Don't let the title fool you. This is not to be a dismal blog filled with unhappy or frightening tales. No doubt you will find some darker fare here as well as some more mature topics, but you are just as likely to find whimsy and amusement as well.

This will not be a collection of links. Though we will not hesitate to provide links to expand on our feelings or add flavor to an article, you will never find us posting links just for the sake of having something to post.

More than anything, Omniphobic will be home to original thoughts and ideas.

We encourage participation. This is your space as much as it is ours. We love hearing from our readers, whether it be for discussion, suggestions or just plain old conversation. We welcome all voices. A link will be provided shortly should you wish to join the team and offer your own thoughts.


Omniphobic...The recognition of thoughts outside our normal boundaries.

Omniphobic...The burrowing of new ideas deep in your brain.

Omniphobic...The feelings that take control when rationality has failed you.

You are omniphobic, too.

And we welcome you.

The Most Disturbing Thing I've Ever Watched

Posted by E

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Some things, once seen, can never be unseen. Such is the curse for me, due to my inherent need to view things I'd be better off avoiding. I have mentioned many times in the past my inborn need to watch disturbing material, sometimes of a graphically violent nature, sometimes of a generally disgusting nature.

My accursed mind will forever draw itself towards things I find repugnant. As a result, I continuously push myself beyond my own boundaries, horrifically scarring my mind and burning into my psyche things best left unthought.

In some respects, this can be a cathartic, even somewhat useful thing. For someone who enjoys writing and is possessed of a sinister imagination, witnessing atrocities and horror first hand can prove a valuable insight, particularly when attempting to understand the minds of those who would commit such acts and the thoughts of those who would suffer them.

But some things dig deep into your skull, burrowing into the darker recesses of your mind, echoing out their diseased noises when all around is dark, raising your hackles when nothing is afoot and ultimately leaving you terrified of the actions of others, for you have had the opportunity to look death in the eye.

For many of us, it started the same. In the video age we contented ourselves with such films as Faces of Death, Traces of Death and Death Scenes, films that catered to the dark need to see, to understand the evil that exists in the world around us. These films allowed us to see the human body for what it is, a frail vessel that merely ferrets our inner selves around. The damage wrought upon it can be severe and immediate.

Once the age of the Internet arrived, the ghouls started finding new places to converge, seeking the company of others who understand that same dark compulsion, that desire to forever lift up the carpet to see what has been swept underneath.

The advent of the Internet as a medium allowed for an exploration into the evils of man far more intense than those proffered in the past. Now we could take the time to examine the acts, pause them, zoom in, see them for what they really were.

Many of the ghouls recognize the "old standards" that float around. Most have seen the "Natural Born Loosers" (sic) set, depicting the murderous actions of a naked woman and her boyfriend, dispatching of and then summarily dismembering and playing with the corpse of her jilted husband.

We're all familiar with the case of R. Budd Dwyer, state treasurer for the state of Pennsylvania who, after being convicted of bribery charges, called a press conference, only to produce a .357 magnum from an envelope and pull the trigger in front of the unblinking eye of the camera.

For a long time the holy grail of online gore was a video known either as "The unknown Russian soldier" or its more common name, "chechclear", which depicts, up close and in living color, a young man gasping in pain and terror, a Chechen jackboot perched upon his head. In short order and without warning a large knife is plunged into his throat, slicing outward, splaying his neck into a large red blossom. The horrific scream that chokes into a bubbling gurgle stays in the mind far longer than the actual act.

As the US entered into the war in Iraq, a new type of tape became commonplace, the beheading. These propaganda videos almost all started with the accused relaying their crimes (real or implied), usually of the nature of providing aid or comfort to the American or resistance forces. A group of masked men would stand behind the victim, reading a statement until such time as a blade was brandished and the condemned was drawn to the floor as the executioner used the blade to end the life of his prey.

These acts are, as they sound, horrific beyond words. Why do some wish to see them? What do we gain from seeing the misery and anguish of others?

Of course, I cannot speak for others, only myself. For me, it is a means of confronting both evil and mortality, to see for myself things that will hopefully forever remain outside of my life. As a creative type, I need to understand these situations for future reference. No pleasure is gained from these viewings, only a better knowledge of humanity.

But there is one thing I have seen that sticks out in my mind, coming to me in my dreams, appearing as a shadow behind my normal vision, never allowing itself to leave my thoughts. This is a thing so horrific and brutal that words fail me when attempting to describe the horror and brutality it displays.

The feelings of empathy that flow through me as I watch these moments bring a heavy and sullen feeling to the air, the weight of doom and despair that certainly was felt by those present at these actions. This is a tape of such unconscionable behavior that I can literally feel my beliefs in the underlying good nature of people die within me.

Before getting to the tape proper, it is best to understand the context of what is happening on screen.

A group of rebel Chechens, led by Salautdin Temirbulatov crossed into the Republic of Dagestan, in an attempt to rout out the occupying Russian forces. Temirbulatov's group came across a village being defended by a sparse group of 13 Russian conscripts. Upon realizing they were greatly outnumbered, 7 of the soldiers fled, while the remaining 6 continued to fight. Once they had run out of ammunition, they surrendered themselves into a promised POW status.

The tape opens with the six soldiers laying on the ground, face down, the one furthest to the right is straddled by a Chechen soldier, who is sawing at the neck of the soldier, leaving his twitching, gurgling body to lay face down in a spreading pool of thickened blood.

The other five soldiers do their best to ignore their friend's plight, totally aware of similar gruesome fates that doubtless await them. Shortly thereafter the leftmost soldier is assaulted, stabbed in the chest and shoulders to subdue him before running his throat out as well.

The cold eye of the camera moves in for a fetishized closeup as his skin turns ashen from blood loss. The lack of oxygen slows his movements and reflexes, and we are left to watch the exposed trachea struggling to pull in air, a high-pitched whistling ushering forth from the gaping maw opened by the blade. The Chechen pauses to wipe the soldier's blood from his blade onto the hand of the dying man.

The remaining three lay motionless, wondering when their turn will come. The Chechens carry on as if nothing unusual is happening, even occasionally laughing to one another.

Number two is told to stand, while someone runs over to deepen the wound in six's throat, as he is not bleeding out sufficiently fast. He still struggles to raise himself from the ground, but the pain and weakness are beginning to overtake him and he fades in and out of consciousness as the blood continues to flow.

The second soldier is pulled off to the side, about 10 yards from his dying comrades and is kicked to the ground, a Chechen brandishing a large knife stands above him, making fervent attempts to slice at the side of the soldier's throat. The soldier cowers and blocks until covering his head with his hands and crying for his mother. The camera cuts away as the rebel strikes home with the blade.

The camera pans back to the lineup of soldiers, pausing to zoom once again on the wide opened throat of number one, who is slowly moving his hands towards his head, while lulling from side to side. We see the gathering rebels standing around the crowd of dying soldiers, some pointing and laughing, some carrying on about their business.

Now the camera pans back to the second soldier who has been separated from the group. A small puddle of blood has formed under him, but it is apparent that his injuries are not life threatening. A second rebel comes to finish the job and the soldier pulls himself up as the man moves to cut. They struggle briefly and then the Russian charges from the scene. We do not see his fate, but are led to believe that he was shot in the back during his escape.

The next is pulled and separated from the remaining soldiers, begging for his life. He points out where some weapons are hidden and attempts to appeal to his captors. I provide below a translation of the next part, provided by a user at the Ogrish Forums named Warlord47, the provider of the tape I am describing. His translation helps to describe the horror underpinning the events as they unfold:

Kid laying on the grass ....
Chechen with the knife "Turn around"
Kid moves abit sideways ..
Chechen off camera "LAY DOWN!"
Chechen takes the knife out and bends towards the kid ..
Aleksey Lipatov "You dont need to cut me..I'll tell you everthing.."
Chechen with the knife "what are you gonna tell me?"
Chechen off camera "Go ahead talk ..."
Aleksey Lipatov "I'll tell you where its located"
Chechen off camera "Where is it located?"
Aleksey Lipatov points towards a hill with houses "There in that house"
Chechen with knife "What ?"
Chechen off camera "What is in that house?"
Aleksey Lipatov "Weapons and ammo"
Chechen with knife "Where ? In that house?" and points
Aleksey Lipatov "Yes from there"
Chechen with knife looks at his combatant
Chechen off camera "Hes lying ... "
Chechen of camera "Lay on the ground"
Chechen with knife "what else you have to tell us?"
Chechen off camera "Where are the weapons!"
Aleksey Lipatov "what ?"
Chechen of camera "The weapons and the ammo"
Aleksey Lipatov "ON the top of the mountains"
Chechen with knife "where ?"
Aleksey Lipatov "There on top" and points.
Chechen with knife "Are you sure?"
Aleksey Lipatov "Yes, yes"
AK shots fired ...
Chechen with knife backs off and he doesnt want to cut .. feels sorry for the kid "What do you want me to do?" in chechen.
Chechen of camera "Just cut him"
Aleksey Lipatov "There its right there" and points.
Chechens yelling "Leave him alone and come back!" .. a bunch of them yelling at once.
Gun shots fired from AK.
(The kid if fucking LAYING waiting to be cut ... I dont get it ... RUN BOY!!! )
Chechens keep yelling "leave him the alone ....come back already" (they are reffering to the other kid that ran)
Chechen with the knife "Turn around"
Chechen "take off your belt"
Chechens of camera "Come on cut him up"
Aleksey Lipatov "You dont have to"
Chechen of camera "just cut im up already"
Aleksey Lipatov "You dont need to, please ..."
Chechen scum hits him with the belt
Chechen "All right come on!"
Chechen with Adidas jacket "Hands back!"
Aleksey Lipatov "Please dont"
Chechen (Adidas) "Hands back!"
Chechen (Adidas) hits him in the face "I said hands back!!"
Gets hit with AK.
Chechen of camera "quickly, quickly"
Aleksey Lipatov "Please lets talk.."
Chechen with camera "HANDS BACK! you fuck"
Chechen "fuck the belt"
Rifle hits the kid
Chechen of camera "Just fucking cut him already!"
Aleksey Lipatov "Please I dont want to do " ... they wrestle
Aleksey Lipatov screaming" I DONT WANT TO DIE! PLEASE!"
Chechens "cut him"
Aleksey Lipatov crying
Aleksey Lipatov "I DONT WANT TO DIE PLEASE!! you are very good people, please!"
Camera man "Yes, we are very very good people.... THE BEST"
Chechen "get the knife"
Chechen punches the kid in the head a few times
Chechen with the knife "Stop fucking hitting him"
Camera man "You gonna live in the grave city"
Aleksey Lipatov "MOM! MOM!"
Camera man "torture him"
Aleksey Lipatov "I WANT TO LIVE!"
Camera man in sarcasm "He wants to live!"
Aleksey Lipatov screaming .. 3 on 1
Aleksey Lipatov "Come on fellows ... I just want to live"
Chechen "CUT HIM NOW"
Aleksey Lipatov "Leave me alone!"
Knife goes thru throat.
Aleksey Lipatov is kneeling while get butted in the head with an AK
Chechen with knife to the guy with the AK "What the fuck are you doing, fuck off"
Chechen with knife "Ill do this by myself!"
Cutting Aleksey Lipatov
Stabbing in the neck ... over and over and over .... Aleksey Lipatov is no more.

The camera moves back to the group laying on the ground and zooms in for a closeup of the face of the next soldier as his head is pulled back and his throat slashed. He has a very low blood pressure, so we see the contortions of agony in his face as throws his body and rolls around, neck ripping wider with each passing moment, until he too lays motionless.

We never see the death of the sixth, but we do see his corpse.

The video ends with the soldiers' corpses being unceremoniously dumped into a shallow grave.

I have seen this video more times than I care to admit, each time hoping that someone will find a way to turn the tables, that some might escape or survive. That such events can take place in the modern world sickens me, but that such a fetishistic glee can be taken with capturing those moments on film is beyond upsetting.

We should all consider ourselves lucky for likely never finding ourselves in a situation such as that. But such actions should not go unnoticed. Odd as it may sound, I feel that I'm doing those killed a disservice by not seeing the torments wrought upon them.

They died so that those images could be used for propaganda purposes. If nothing else, viewing their final moments allows a small piece of them to reside in the minds of the masses, to make their senseless deaths have more meaning than some sickening act played out in front of the cold mechanical sights of a camera.

These evils exist in our world. We cannot deny it.

It Takes a Major Turn Halfway Through

Posted by E

Thursday, July 10, 2008

In 1999, geeks the world over were chomping at the bit over the impending release of Star Wars: Episode I: The Phantom Menace, a movie so loved and cherished by the populous at large today that we sometimes forget just how major a release it was.

All kidding aside, prior to the release of the film, geeks such as myself were literally shaking with excitement. Lucasfilm, in all of their wisdom, decided that 1999 would also be the year that they would throw their first sanctioned Star Wars event in 12 years, a convention in Denver, Colorado to be held from April 30-May 2, just a few days prior to the release of the film.

Being the type of guy that had Star Wars tattoos, it was pretty much a given that I'd be attending. I felt pretty badly for my coworkers, who were having to endure my endless enthusiasm for a movie that I'd ultimately rate with a "Meh", so I figured a few days surrounded by others just as excited as myself would help ease the pain of waiting.

Accompanying me on this trip were two friends, Teddy and Batman. Teddy wasn't so much a geek, he was just interested in seeing the kind of people that would fly halfway across the country to attend a convention. Batman is most definitely a geek. And a crime fighter.

We had planned these three days to be as fun-filled and excitement packed as we could possibly stomach. Life, as always, planned differently.

We boarded the plane early morning on Friday, the 30th. One thing that one must know about me; whenever a story begins with "We boarded the plane" you can rest assured that drugs were involved. There is nothing on this plane of existence that terrifies me more than the metallic coffin that is the modern day airplane. I would rather sleep in a tub full of vipers than ride on one of those abominations. Of course, this meant that I had to get up at 4 in the morning, meet up with Teddy and Batman and then take massive doses of over the counter medications in a vain and ultimately failed attempt to knock myself out in time to miss the experience of flying.

Batman had never flown anywhere before, so while I was as somber and morose as one could hope to be, he was giddy with excitement and recording EVERYTHING with a video camera. For the next three days I would never see his face, just the cold glass eye staring me down.

After the trip was over and I received a copy of the tape, I saw that he had text on the screen like "Leaving Mos Eisley Spaceport" and "Aboard the Falcon". Needless to say the first 10 minutes of the tape is me scowling and slipping in and out of consciousness. My drug addled conspicuity caught the attention of the TSA, whom hastily pulled me to the side for some extra searches, all the while threatening Batman to "turn the camera off".

I have no real recollection of the flight itself, as I managed to actually maintain unawareness for the few hours we were in transit. Thankfully, though, Batman managed to capture all the magic and his tape astounds the viewer with more than 20 minutes of footage of clouds passing by, as well as a nice view of the airline meal.

I staggered off the plane and we made our way towards ground transportation. We needed to rent a car and check into our hotel prior to hitting the convention proper. I couldn't help but notice the weather once we got outside. It was 40 and pouring.

Now, I had lived in the south for a few years at this point, and I had made the association that May = warm, which was completely accurate were it not for the fact that it was totally wrong.

Shit.

Of course, if you were to open my luggage at that point you would see a handful of t-shirts and shorts and that's it. No jeans. No slacks. No coat. No long sleeved shirt. But I figured "what the hell, I'm originally from Michigan. I'll tough it out". Friggin' machismo.

We checked into the hotel and then made our way to the convention itself. From everything I had read, all indications pointed to a crowd of about 7,000 people converging on this airplane hangar for a few days of lightsabers, force powers and wookiees. Initial calculations proved to be off by a bit, though, and soon we were treated to a crowd of nearly 30,000 people all waiting to get into the same building and the same tent.

30,000 people in the pouring rain, sloshing about in a field, churning up mud so thick that you would sink past your ankle with every step. Within minutes of arriving my skin began turning purple and I found myself huddled under a B-52 rubbing my arms for warmth. Every once in awhile I would attempt to squeak out a "woo hoo!" and a thumbs up, but usually found my extremities to be uncooperative.

The oft repeated joke of the event was that Lucas spared no expense in bringing the swamp planet Dagobah to his fans. And boy, did we mean it. Everybody was covered in mud and frozen to the bone. We waited almost four hours that day just to get into the main exhibit, which turned out to be largely displays for all the products that people would be selling in a couple of weeks.

After another hour or two wait, we were able to make our way into the dealers' tent, where we were free to shovel wheelbarrow loads of cash over for vintage Star Wars goods. This managed to bring up a somewhat major mistake on the organizer's part. The official street date for ALL Episode 1 merchandise was May 3, which meant that all of the die-hard fans in attendance at this event would be in transit when everything actually went on sale. To cap this off there were strict orders that NO Episode 1 items were to be sold to the attendees.

Here we were, 1400 miles from home, at an event absolutely dedicated to enticing us to buy merchandise and they were refusing to sell any of it to us. More than a few of the 30,000 people in attendance pissed a collective bitch over that one.

After spending some money and freezing some more, we made our way back to the hotel to crash out for the night. Back at the room we decided to go check out Denver the next day and then return to the convention on Sunday. Much to the amusement of Teddy and myself, we found a pair of tights under Teddy's bed, which we continuously hid in Batman's luggage. We figured he had brought them with every intention of sneaking out after we fell asleep to fight crime. Ahh...superheroes.

And now it's time for me to throw the curveball to the story, the bit that brings the fun level down a few notches. Remember how I mentioned that this convention took place in Denver, Colorado from April 30-May 2?

On April 20, 1999, Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris, two seniors at Columbine High School arrived at school with a plan for both mass violence and suicide. In the space of a few hours Klebold and Harris left 12 students and a teacher dead and more than 23 others wounded before taking their own lives. Their actions stunned our nation and devastated the small Denver suburb where it took place.

To say that Denver was reeling from the shock and pain of the horrific atrocities that had been committed would be an understatement of biblical proportions. Columbine was the word on everybody's mind, but the one word above all others that must not be spoken.

Being the curious types, we decided to head out towards the school just to see with our own eyes where such malice had been born. Finding the school proved to be a difficult task as we really did not want to stop and ask for fear of looking like ghouls.

While making our way towards the school we ended up ensnarled in a traffic jam in the downtown area, brought on by the arrival of Charlton Heston and the NRA. Protestors lined the streets and we found ourselves stuck in the area for quite some time. After finally detangling ourselves from the mess wrought by that fiasco, we decided to stop and ask for directions.

I ended up in the gas station inquiring where the school was. I did my best to not appear exploitive, but the pain and anger that was felt by the community at large was easily visible in the clerk's eyes as he gave me the directions.

We really didn't know what we expected to see there, we just felt that we needed to experience it for ourselves.

Once we found the school we found ourselves stripped of our ability to speak. The weight of the situation hung oppressively thick in the air. The weight of the world had converged on this little slice of America, driven so beyond its ability to cope with the grief that the very sky seemed to be crying for its residents.

The campus was enormous and every square inch of it was covered with cards, signs, stuffed animals, flowers, you name it. There wasn't one square inch of that campus untouched by the collective outpouring of grief and confusion that such an act left in its wake. Signs from schools across the nation, personal letters, photographs, well wishings, prayers, hopes and outpourings of heartfelt emotion. The pain was centered on these few acres, but it was obvious that it was felt across the nation.

And crowds of people. Hundreds of people gathered, many openly weeping, there to help shoulder the burden of pain that was too much for the community to bear. I was approached by the father of one of the slain children, who wore a pin with his child's face on it. He placed a pamphlet in my hand which implored all of mankind to find inner peace, to find whatever it is that makes us happy and able to cope.

Amongst the throngs of people, the media was to be found, scurrilous vermin primping their hair, drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes and above all laughing. LAUGHING. There was no joy to be found in these environs, no jocularity to be shared between those in attendance, no elbows to the ribs. But these bastards stood around in their black trench coats telling jokes while their camera operators tried to find those "perfect shots" to drive home the impact at the end of the piece. I watched one fidgeting with a rose he had stolen from one of the copious bouquets, struggling to make it stick in a wooden fence just right so he could get that perfect shot with the rose in the foreground and the memorial crosses in the background.

We stood in the thickening gloom for an hour, waiting for our turn to visit the memorial crosses which had been erected at the top of a hill. (Two of those crosses, Klebold's and Harris' would be cut down later that night by an angry parent.) We paid our silent respects and then headed back to the car. It was nearly an hour before any of us spoke again.

We finished out our third day with another six hour line, this time waiting to get into the official store so that we could buy t-shirts and posters. If nothing else can be said, the weather had improved and the sun even peeked out of the clouds to warm us just a little.

We saw our exhibits, bought our goods and then made our way home. We had gone there expecting to learn about an upcoming film, instead we learned a little about humanity. It was an experience that none of us would ever forget.