End of the Month Music Bitchfest - July 2012

Nine Inch Nails
Someone pinch me!!! Could it be??? A new song??? Without lyrics??? For a supermacho, run-of-the-mill first person shooter??? Coming out in November???
This truly is the Age of Wonders.*
So, Reznor is doing the theme for Call of Duty: Black Ops 2: Headshotting A Bunch Of Juvenile, Racist, Sexist, Brainless, Pothead Douchbags In Multiplayer.
And I am thrilled.
One year : one song.
A bold new artistic direction for Nine Inch Nails, but, hey, you never know, this could be what saves the dying music industry.
You can hear a few bits and pieces of said theme underneath one of the most......long winded....and overdramatic.....speeches......EVAR...here.
You can also hear it in the background under David S. Goyer and Reznor talking about how video games are viable entertainment here.

In the same (not proofread) interview with USA Today, Reznor was also asked about the How To Destroy Angels album (set for release Q1, 2011) and said the following:

We have a finished album. It's been finished for a little while. We're doing a little bit of tweaks on it (see what I mean about the lack of proofreading?). The record will be out soon. We are doing a different type of distribution this time so it's taking a bit longer to coordinate stuff. There's a lot of music about to be unleashed, videos et cetera.

Now...I think I've discussed (at length) Trent Reznor's definition of "soon"...yes? So, my pants are sad, but, he also said there is "a lot of music coming". Last time he said that, he released the three disc Girl With The Dragon Tattoo score, so my pants are happy.
And, as far as, "a different type of distribution"...well...I have no idea how they're going to reinvent this wheel in a way that really matters and I'd be fine with his previous methods of distribution if it meant we got the new music faster but...I don't know...if they come up with something other than the various purchase options (ranging from mp3 to FLAC to CD to deluxe to super deluxe to sell-a-kidney super deluxe packaging), great, just don't let the wrapping delay the contents, namean?
One thing I will say; if this magical and stunningly original distribution plan involves six months of posting blurred images, then a handful of short, abstract videos with a bass line or synth loop or drum beat, then a free song, then a music video and then, finally, the album...expect me to be a touch vexed.
Note: the previous sentence is rendered null and void if said album meets or exceeds the aforementioned six month period of hype.
Thank you.

Reznor also mentioned, rather offhandedly, that he's working on new Nine Inch Nails music and that it was "in gestation".
Whether we're talking the gestation period of a mayfly or of an African elephant...well, I suppose we'll find out in 2015**, when the next Nine Inch Nails album is slated for release.

You can read the whole interview here.


They Might Be Giants
Although the first major IFC package (as well as our custom ringtones) was promised in July...nothing came, although, again, thanks to Flans' constant updates via the IFC Tumblr account, the fans have been kept well informed and, according to Mr. Flansburgh, they should go out in the next week or so.
In other news, TMBG have announced their only three shows scheduled for 2012: Saturday the 29th of December through Monday the 31st of December at the Williamsburgh Music Hall for Apathetic, Eye-Rolling Douchbags Who Drink Beer They Don't Like Because It's "Funny".
While I would have loved to go to their New Year's Eve show (I went once and it was awesome), I'm working, so I got tickets to both the preceding shows, the first of which will consist of one side of their second and third albums (Lincoln and Flood) and the second of which will consist of the other side of their second and third albums. Should be fun.


Beck
While the month started off with more flyspecks of not-news manufactured specifically to feed my hatefire (oooh, Beck produced a track for some chick who did a song on the Fleetwood Mac tribute album, ooooooh and oooooooooooooooohhhhhhhh, here's a recording of a Woody Guthrie song from the mid-90's, ooooooooooohhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!), the end of the month presents us with the revelation of NEW BECK MUSIC.......well, three new songs ("Cities", "Spiral Staircase" and "Touch The People") to be used in a video game called Sound Shapes.
In this game you sort of play the songs as the level...?
You know, it's a little hard to explain and while it does look like a pretty innovative game design and this is a fitting place for Beck's sexy robot musical stylings***...well, I guess I'd like to know where I can purchase these songs as, you know, songs...for listening...with my ears.
Will I buy this game specifically to hear new Beck music?
That...is a good question.
Here's a video that kind of clears things up a bit, and here's another video with one of the new Beck songs ("Cities").
Getting better Beck, but I want album meat, not video game salad.


Eels
In about three months, it'll have been a full year since Eels' official web site has been updated and even longer since it was updated with anything pertaining to Eels' music.
I have nothing else to go here, I'm just worried.
Has anyone talked to E lately?
Everything okay, big guy?
How's your beard?
How about Bobby Jr.?
I have a pretty strong feeling that, if/when that dog dies, E is soon to follow...
And, if you think that sounds a bit shallow...listen to his music some time, he's a seriously fragile dude.


In other musicy newsy poo, I haven't really been overlistening to anything, but I have been focusing on older Bowie (Hunky Dory, The Man Who Sold The World, Diamond Dogs, Pin-Ups). The rampant joy in this young David Bowie's voice is just darling. You can hear those wonderful, jagged, pre-capped teeth giving each syllable its own unique skew...
Some highlights from each include:


From The Man Who Sold The World (1970)

• The Width Of A Circle - A bit long winded at times, but so are you, shut up.
• Running Gun Blues - In which Bowie's voice has this lilt of madness...really unsettling.
• The Supermen - It's a story about a planet of undying gods that can do anything but die. Basically, it's an Alan Moore graphic novel sung by David Bowie.

From Hunky Dory (1971)

• Uh...actually? Pretty much the whole album.

From Pin-Ups (1973)

• Here Comes The Night - Just fun, stop pestering me for reasons you should listen to songs.
• See Emily Play - Why? Because it's Bowie covering Pink Floyd, that's why.
• Friday On My Mind - Just a good time groove. Or GTG, as I call them.

From Diamond Dogs (1974)

• Sweet Thing/Candidate/Sweet Thing (reprise) - These three tracks are really one track, and it's amazing. Dark and brash and triumphant and go and listen to it now.
• Rock and Roll With Me - I have never felt as good about rocking and rolling with someone as when I hear this song,. Yes, David, I WILL rock and roll with you...unless that means sex, in which case...I'll probably still rock and roll with you.
• We Are The Dead - In this we meet a creeping and slimy Bowie (perhaps Halloween Jack from the title track?) who's representing the dead. I have no idea what's happening here, but I want to be somewhere else.

Other than the Bowiefest...hm, that's about it.
This has been a rather horrible month, emotionally, and I've mostly been listening to podcasts about video games to take my mind off things and, when I have been listening to music, it's been my 500+ song "mellow" iPod playlist on shuffle.
I need some more mellow music.

Oh, one last thing: just found out yesterday: a new album from Tori Amos called Gold Dust. When I went to her site and saw the track list, I was bummed; it looked like a best of made up of deep cuts rather than her better known stuff, but, upon further, you know, reading what was written there, I saw that Tori has, in reality, rerecorded and rearranged these fourteen songs with the Metropole Orchestra.
This is intriguing.
I love when bands I've loved for a long time do things like this; reinterpreting their own work years after they wrote it, making it more pertinent and vital and contemporary, finding something new it something old.
This is an excellent exercise for bands that have been around for decades.
Reznor has always excelled at this, as has TMBG, who have been playing some of the same songs in completely different styles for over thirty years.
And, as far as Eels, every single concert features complete reimaginings of their work.
Very much looking forward to this.
Gold Dust is coming out October 2nd.

Anyway, see the bitch/be the bitch.







*Read "Internet Sarcasm"
** Late 2015
*** As in, he is a sexy robot, not that his robot stylings are sexy...even though they are.

More Batman (and some other stuff)

As I'd mentioned before, I saw DKR for a second time on Sunday with Jen and Chris.
Beforehand, Jen and I watched some Batman: The Animated Series because that is what one does.
After coming home from the movie, I broke out my Batman Beyond DVDs in order to watch the episode in which Ra's al Ghul comes back in Talia's body in order to convince Bruce Wayne to live with her and use the Lazarus Pit in order to regain his youth.
Excellent, excellent episode.
After that, I watched a few more.
You know, I sometimes forget how great that show was. Much like BTAS, it's aged very well; it's a bit cheesy here and there (the seemingly obligatory anti-drug episode especially) but the writing and voice acting is rock solid in most cases.
And the actors?
In one random episode, the cast included Robert Patrick, Stephen Baldwin and William H. Macy.
Tight.
And, while the new villains the show introduced are all right, I'm always a sucker for the episodes which feature the villains from Batman's original rogue's gallery, like Mr. Freeze or Ra's al Ghul. The idea that these guys are still threats decades after Batman first fought them gives the whole universe a wonderful sense of cohesion.
In a recent list of Batman movies that were never made, a Batman Beyond movie was mentioned and, according to random internet flatulence, this next reboot is going to shoot for a younger cast... I must say that a Batman Beyond movie would be a great way to ameliorate some of the fans' hatred directed at the idea of rebooting the franchise so soon after such a masterful showing.
It'd rub salve on my ass in any case.

In non-Batman related news*, I was reflecting on that Cardiovascular Institute VO I had last week. Usually, when I go into a VO audition, there is copy with specs. The specs are usually the most banal shit you hear me rant about ("friendly...not announcery...with a hint of a smile..."), but the specs of this consisted of five words: Strong. Confident. Humble. Quiet. Honest. The fact that I booked it felt pretty good. Not that I really believe I''m any of these things, really...but someone somewhere, at the Cardiovascular Institute, thinks I can sound that way.
So I'm going to count that as a victory.

This weekend shall include saying goodbye to two dear friends, Jim and Jen, who are moving to fucking Hawaii. Honestly, it'll be less of a "we're sad to see you go" party and more of a "you lucky assholes" party.
But a party is a party.
And we...like...to party...we like...we like to party.
And then, on Sunday, going to Jersey to help Chris with the last of her mom's furniture.
Which should be just as fun, or MORE fun, than said party.
As long as I'm drunk.

Picked up Silent Hill: Downpour against better judgement as well as the new Amazing Spider-Man game which serves as an epilogue to the movie of the same name, so now I have to see the movie. I think I'm doing that next weekend with Jen and anyone else who's interested.
This was spurred on by my recent watching of tonnes of the mid-90's Spider-Man animated show, which, get ready, is pretty good.
Not really the writing or the animation, both are pretty sloppy and childish, but the scope of the thing...
One recent episode featured Morbius, Blade and the Punisher (all of who were majorly nerfed so as not to scare the kiddies-- you hear a lot of "get him" and "destroy him", but never "kill him"-- but still) and, the one I watched last night, had Venom, Carnage, Baron Mordo (Tony Jay!), Dormammu, Iron Man and fucking War Machine (who was voiced by none other than James "Uncle Phil/Shredder" Avery), and it managed not to feel pointless with all these characters in it. Very well done.
Plus,each season after the first is one cohesive story (to a point), with reoccurring themes and actual character development...it's nowhere near as good as BTAS but it's leagues better than X-Men.

And, in about eighteen minutes, I'm off to grab Neuromancer for Chris and We Can Remember It For You Wholesale, the Philip K. Wang collection so as to see where Total Recall came from before it was a bad movie and, hopefully, a not-as-bad movie in August.

Finally, my good friend Phil has embarked upon a crazy writing challenge, one that will hopefully bear crazy fruits.
Keep a look out over at his site transientme.com.

I'm out.












*You may go.

I'm Going To Talk About The Batman

First things first: major spoilers regarding Batman Begins, The Dark Knight and The Dark Knight Rises ahead*, so, there's a reason beside disinterest to not continue reading...

On Thursday last, I came down with a horrible case of Bane Mouth and had to call out of work...what excellent luck that it cleared up right before I headed out to see the Dark Knight trilogy at 34th street's fake IMAX** theater with Jay and Paul and Steve and Jose.
All of whom you don't know but are, nonetheless, real.
I was going to show up at 3pm, but actually found myself tittering with excitement in the shower at about 1:30, so I got out and showed up at 2...right behind ten people and Jay.
About ten minutes later, Steve showed up and, after reading a sign, discovered that we were standing in the line for the Bourne Legacy screening (which, oddly enough, I had turned down an invite to earlier that week) happening at the same theater.
He lead us to the correct line where we were still about ten or fifteen people back.
We stood there and geeked our fucking balls off until about 5pm, when, just as those horrifying isolated thunderstorms were beginning...we were let in.
Guys...we were handed posters...and lanyards.
I worn mine for about five minutes and then took it off, feeling as though I had gone too far.
I'm not kidding, even I have limits.

Then I somehow managed to eat a whole burrito with only a dozen or so grains of rice spilled***, which made me very proud in a way I haven't felt in, literally, decades.
There was more talking and then the (totally gayballs) "IMAX calibration sequence" began.
I have seen ONE other film in IMAX: the re-release of The Exorcist whenever that was...I was in college I think...and, after seeing these three movies in IMAX, I will never see anything in IMAX again.
It was loud to the point of parody. Each footstep was a gunshot, each gunshot was an apocalypse and each explosion was instant anal prolapse.
The upside of anal prolapse is that it can only happen once.
Trying to understand Batman's growl-screaming-through-stuffed-sinuses-with-a mouth-full-of-rock-choked-mud and Bane's ball-gag-made-of-live-rabbits-German?-tinged-yawn-thunder was hard enough without all the music and sound effects turned up to "Go Fuck Yourself If You Can't Hear Shit".

Anyway, the trailers came on, the only one of which held any interest for me was the "exclusive" Skyfall extended trailer...which made me wish, for just...one...second that I was about to see that instead...but then...Batman Begins...begans...or did it?
No, it did not.
Now, I've only seen Begins a handful of times, maybe five, maybe less, but something felt...off...a moment later, I knew why: the lackwit in the booth pushing buttons...pushed the wrong button...and The Dark Knight Rises began to play...at 6pm on Thursday.
At first, people seemed upset...but then they kind of got quiet...because we were about to see the new, final Batman movie we'd been waiting for since one second after The Dark Knight ended in 2008 a whole six hours early...which I was totally fine with because I had a VO booked for the next morning at 9:15.
But, right around the time Bane was causing a ruckus in the airplane, it stopped.
The reaction was mixed.

Then, well, they showed Batman Begins and, after a thirty minute break or so, The Dark Knight.
And they were the excellent movies they've always been, except for the are-you-really-sure-this-should-be-this-loud-there's-blood-coming-from-my-nose-mouth-ears-and-dickhead IMAX sound pummeling.
Also, I'll admit, I was getting antsy and tired.
I have NO earthly idea how those freaks did the Avengers marathon (five 2+ hour movies PLUS the two and a half hour Avengers flick) or those Oscar marathons, but after two movies, I was ready to leave.
Then, they ran the trailers again and the movie finally started.

Hm...what to say that hasn't been said already...
Well, it, in no way, topped Dark Knight. Liam Neeson is great and Tom Hardy was great as well, but I could not take my eyes off the screen when Heath Ledger was on it.
I was so convinced that Nolan would have found a way to trump himself, but, he didn't. I mean, the scope was bigger, and the tying in of the first two movies was very well done, but I wanted this to make me forget about Dark Knight...not that I wanted to forget it, I wanted to be made to forget it, dig?
Anne Hathaway did all right, I suppose, but I really have trouble seeing her as this generation's Grace Kelly...could someone maybe point me at something amazing that she's done to earn this auspicious title? I mean, her boob was pretty cool for those ten seconds in Havoc, but Grace Kelly?!
Bane turned out very nicely, although turning up his garbled voice is really not the same thing as having him re-record it. I saw in an interview that Tom Hardy based Bane's voice on a gypsy bare-knuckle boxer named Bartley Gorman, the character's intelligence...and hiss Caribbean background.
No.
No no no, he sounds German.
German is how he sounds.
Except for the times when he sounds like Sean Connery ("Come now, Doctor...thish is not the time for fea-ah...that comsh latah...").
Oh, and when he picked up the microphone at the stadium?
Guys, insult to injury, can we get some fucking subtitles please.
The first time I saw the film (partially because of the goddamn IMAX ear-fucking), I did not catch everything Bane said, but, after seeing it for a second time on Sunday with Jen and Chris, I got everything except for the second to last thing he says to Dagget before whatever horrible thing he does to him off screen because this is PG-13 and we don't want to scare anybody.
"I am here to rumble tummy rugby rhubarb watermelon guggle tup" is what I think he said.

Also, at times, although the movie is one hundred and sixty five minutes long, I felt like stuff was missing...for instance, the way the bomb goes from 23 days to 18 hours to 12 hours to 11 minutes in a matter of, what, ten real time minutes?

And, how did Bruce Wayne get back from the prison to Gotham, how did he into Gotham and how did he know everything that was going on with the bomb while he was away?

My biggest problem with The Dark Knight Rises actually had nothing to do with the cast or crew of DKR...is had to do with that tubby pothead fuck, Kevin Smith.
Back in mid 2011, casting news for Rises came to light.
Now, announcing Tom Hardy as Bane gives away that the villain (or a villain, in any case) will be Bane.
Announcing that Liam Neeson will be in the movie could mean one thing or another (flashback, hallucination, that he is Ra's Al Ghul, the immortal Demon's Head!!!!, whatever).
But.
When Smith and his equally fuckfaced companion announced on their podcast that Marion Cotillard was cast as Miranda Tate...but that she was really playing Talia Al Ghul...well, fuck!
I have no problem with announcing casting news, this is one of the most anticipated movies of all time and casting news and set photo speculation is all part of the enjoyment for some people, but, fucking shit in a teapot CALL SPOILERS!!! I'm looking forward to the film, I don't want to know things that will potentially ruin the plot for me, which is, by the by, exactly what these idiots did.
At first, I tried to forget.
One more time: I tried to forget...which, any neurologist will tell you is physically IMPOSSIBLE.
DON'T THINK ABOUT MY HUGE PENIS.
See?
Doesn't work.
So, once I gave up trying to forget that this woman happens to be the grieving daughter of Batman's first and greatest enemy whose ultimate plan is to destroy him and the city he has sworn to protect...I tried to hope that this would be revealed early on, maybe...in the first three minutes of the film? Like, in a flashback, her and her father are sitting somewhere (maybe on that same patch of ice Ra's and Bruce fought on), and he tells her:

RA'S AL GHUL:  Daughter, my daughter, Talia, for that is your name, Talia Al Ghul, the daughter of Ra's-

TALIA AL GHUL: Yes, father, I get it, I'm your daughter.

RA'S AL GHUL: Yes, of course, sometimes I forget...if anything should ever happen to me...like dying in a train wreck caused by some billionaire who is also a bat man...avenge me by becoming a socialite and then blah blah blah...whatever.

But that didn't happen.
(Also: it's pronounced "raysch", not "razz". It's in the comics, it's in Batman: The Animated Series and, in Batman Beyond, they actually address the fact that it is not pronounced "razz", so I don't know if it was one of the Nolan's or that no one wanted to correct Liam Neeson, but...yeah, "raysch", not "razz". Please continue.)
What happened was, from the moment she first appeared on the screen, I was 100,000% completely aware that she was secretly working against Bruce Wayne AND Batman. So, every time Bruce entrusted her with something important I cringed.
"I want you to take care of my company" (fuck)
"I want to get naked in front of you" (goddamn it!)
"I want you to be in control of my god damn nuclear bomb machine hidden under the fucking city." (fucking WHAT?!)
And, all the while, I'm looking for something in the film that would give her away so I can start enjoying this movie as it should be, but NO (except for that part with the scar on her shoulder...sort of), not until, literally, 97% of the way through the film, when she takes off her mask and goes, "Ah ha! I am not who you thought I was! I am, in reality--"
Yes, yes, do shut up, Marion.
So, because of that, a lot of this film was ruined for me.
I like being surprised (even if this wasn't the biggest surprise in the history of cinema) and these dickless cockhounds ruined it for me OVER HALF A YEAR BEFORE THE FILM CAME OUT.

More gripes: the way Nolan wrapped/set everything up? Bitter fucking sweet.
If he had said, look, I'll make another Batman movie in ten years, I would have been okay with setting Gordon Levitt up as the new Batman, but this is it. They're rebooting the goddamn franchise in something like a year, this world is finished.
That's just cruel.
Yes, it was an amazing ending, but...cruel.
Okay, enough bitching, how about what I liked?
A lot.
I actually got chills when Bane uttered those magic words, "I will break you", and then snapped Batman over his knee.
Amazing.
The scene where Bane makes his way above ground while a fucking child is singing the National Anthem right before Bane destroys everything...in New York City?! Are you kidding me?! Mr. Nolan...you have pushed alll the right buttons, you horrible bastard.
In. Sane.
Oh, and bringing Scarecrow back as the judge was pretty inspired, although I would have loved to see Zsasz come back...he is one of those characters you really can't soften up for animated shows or even PG-13 movies...he kills people and then cuts himself to keep track.
I mean...fuck, he very well may be the darkest Batman villain out there, and the simplest.
We see him at the beginning of Begins getting released into Crane's custody and then again threatening Katie Holmes and that annoying kid when all hell breaks loose; in fact, if you look closely, you can see, when he turns his head away from the camera, a whole bunch of fresh looking scars on the side and back of his neck.
THAT...is what...I am talking...about.
But, badgers can't be choosers and all that.
Al in all, it was a great wrap up to the trilogy, tying everything together beautifully. Was it as perfectly standalone as Dark Knight, but, honestly, can anyone suggest something that would have topped that without it sounding ridiculous?
If so, I'll direct it.

All right, there it is: my completely disorganized bitchfest pertaining to the Dark Knight trilogy.

Note: After speaking with my friend Will who pointed out a basket full of additional plot holes and reading this article from Kotaku, I must admit, the film is harder to enjoy, but, hey...he's Batman.








*I am going to fuckrant my bowels out soon regarding spoilers, their importance and why they're fucking called spoilers.
**Not not NOT to ever be confused with XMAX.
***I haven't actually seen the movie yet, I'm just seeing how much minutiae I can get you to read before you stop-- oops, there you go...

These Knids...They're So Vermicious

Did you know that "vermicious" means wormy or wormlike from the Latin word "vermis"?
That's awful.

Today was busy pants, with me up at 8:20 in order to get to a re-record session consisting of two sentences that needed more sexy from last Friday's Cardiovascular Institute VO.
It was fast and lucrative.
I'd feel guilty...if I weren't...so...god...damned...GOOD.

Then, thinking I would have time to shower and make pretty, it turned out that DBO and her friend, Nurse Rachel, were done with her NYC doctor stuff early, so they came over and we headed to Tuk Tuk.
Thai food is better in the restaurant, don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
Ever.
I'm proud to be counted among Brooke's "other" friends. You know, the ones that aren't rescue divers or astronauts or White House Press Officials or good people who help people with their lives.
Well...not really proud...sort of...accepting?
Yes.
Either way, it was an excellent lunch with two excellent people.
After I sent them on their way to Penn Station, I had just enough time to make pretty and get to work.
Where I soon learned that my wonderful plan of anonymous whimsy and niceness had been thwarted by myself and the US goddamn PS.

So.
I sent Jen Rock a thing in the mail* and addressed it to "Janet van Dyne", the Wasp's secret identity since Jen had just been at Comic-Con cosplaying as Wasp.
No problem, right?
Yes problem, wrong!
Turns out that the Government won't let her pick up this package simply because she doesn't have a valid ID with that name on it!
Bullshit, right?!
No.
Not really.
So I'm an asshole.
I called a bunch of helpful people** and they told me that I'm really quite fucked unless Jen can somehow arrange to get the package in some other fashion.
This package that was meant t be a fun, little surprise.
Ugh.
When I try to be nice, things are awful, so now I have Total Justification for being a Raging Toolbox.
Hopefully this thing will sort itself out...because I'm exhausted.

This evening, I plan to read a bunch of Batman comics, then, when I get home, to watch 30 Minutes Or Less.
I enjoyed Zombieland (even though they said "nut up or shut up" exactly one time too many), enjoy Jesse Eisenberg and, since watching Parks and Recreation, can now tolerate Aziz Ansari.
Game on.
All the way on.

And soon I will have some sort of review thing sort of for Dark Knight Rises, although it's mostly going to be me screaming about how Kevin fucking Smith of ALL PEOPLE should know the value/purpose/proper time to warn of a spoiler and how fucking loud the Dark Knight trilogy is in IMAX.***

All right.
Let's get real.







*That will never be worth all the fucking trouble this has become to obtain said thing.
**Not joking, they were all very nice and helpful
***Hint: fucking very.

Prepare To Lose Interest

Before everything awful in the world happened, I was playing through Silent Hill 2 with Jen.
If it's all the same to you, I'm going to skip over the awful stuff and stick with the escapist-survival horror stuff.
Thanks.

A few weeks ago I picked up the Silent Hill HD Collection, which consists of Silent Hill 2 and 3 with HD graphics and cleaned up textures and the like. I did it so I could expose my friend Jen to all its amazing, genre-defining terrors. After slowly, painfully acclimating to the janky, awkward, tank-like controls of the main character, James, we stepped into the fog and things immediately went bad.

The feeling that everything is wrong kicks in pretty much instantly, thanks to the sound design of Akira Yamaoka, the demented genius behind every sound in every Silent Hill game to date except for the recent excretion, Silent Hill: Downpour.

Did I have fun messing with Jen's head?
I would be lying if I said no.

We met and then "fought" Pyramid Head (a moment still as disturbing, frightening and fruitless as it was the first time I encountered it), met that little bitch, Laura, that vomiting, fat fuck, Eddie and that cock hungry slutbag, Maria. Then we abandoned her in Brookhaven Hospital and screamed our asses off as more horrible shit happened. Pyramid Head showed up one last time to cut Maria in half, then we left the hospital, saved and said our goodbyes.

If she ever comes over again, we have the Silent Hill Historical Society, the prison and the hotel to look forward to.
Oh, also the underground labyrinth, did I forget to mention that?
Yeah, that's where Pyramid Head lives.
So I'm expecting that everything will go fine and nothing will try to cleave us.

In other escapist news, I've been watching a lot of shit lately.
After finishing all the funny shows on television, I returned to the 8th season of the X-Files, starring the T-1000 (nothing will ever allow me to see him as anything else) and Scully, as Mulder is still "abducted".
The quality, obviously, has definitely started to decline, although there's been one or two cool episodes thus far. I believe they are about to replace Scully with actress Annabeth Gish, a name I turn to for solace in times of duress. Not the actress, just the name.
At that point...well, I don't know why I'll be watching the show at that point.
Because...I'm a completionist?
Yeah, let's go with that.

I also completed the Silence of the Lambs "trilogy" by watching Hannibal.
I had totally forgotten that Ridley Scott directed that movie.
I had not totally forgotten that Julianne Moore replaced Jodie Foster though.
I had also not forgotten that, while Silence was one of the best thrillers ever made, its sequel was more of an over-the-top action movie which occurred for no real reason.
I was reminded of that whilst watching Hannibal.
At least Gary Oldman was awesome.
And, hey, man-eating pigs, right?
I'm glad they made Red Dragon so as not to leave fans with a sour taste in their mouths.

Next, National Treasure.
Why?
WHY?
Actually, I can answer that quite easily: I have accrued quite the stockpile of visual flotsam (not jetsam, just flotsam) and, while sitting alone, sick and despairing, I saw something that I thought would be a great way to lose two hours.
And it worked.
I can't say the movie had no impact on me whatsoever, because I took a few notes.
Mainly, the thing that struck me was how vanilla everything was. It was as if Disney had rewatched the Indiana Jones movies (the watchable ones) and said, "Whoa, this is...whoa! This is way too intense for people these days! Let's just turn this from a 9 to a 2."
In fact, I picture Cage's character and Tom Hanks' character from the Dan Brown movies sitting and drinking tea, but the tea is too hot so they let it sit there and cool, but then never drink it for fear that it's still too hot for them.
They also quietly murmur to themselves about parchment.
I felt no sympathy or interest or anything for Nicolas Cage at all. Too be fair though, I'm not sure a snuff film in which he were tortured and eaten by savages would get me to do anything other then stifle a yawn. Because THAT is what Cage sounds like! Ah ha! I think I just had a breakthrough! His ever-present drawl makes it sound like he's always yawning, which makes me tired, which makes me not give a shit if he lives or dies or gets tortured and eaten etc. etc. etc!
Well, that was pretty good.
Also, I liked Sean Bean better when he was trying to kill James Bond.
Please stop making National Treasure movies, they are blanding things up horribly.

Then, dumb bastard that I am, I finished the Resident Evil Quadrilogy with Resident Evil: Aftermath.
Ugh, you dumb, fucking bastard!
The first thing I will say is positive; cherish it, because it's the only positive thing I have to say about this potato.
For the first time since the original RE movie, they got someone with skills to do the music, namely, music lab, tomandandy. Whereas the "music" for the second and third movies was just wallpaper trying desperately to mimic the score and mood from the first, this one actually has some substance...unlike the movie itself.
Note to Paul W. S. M. T. S. M. W. T. P. M. S. M.* Anderson: if you have to Slo-Mo something to show how badass it is, it probably isn't that badass to begin with.
The opening is some of the most video game video game movie shit I have ever seen, which is really neither here nor there.
The first piece of business is to kill EVERY ONE OF THE CLONES we saw heading to spacedock the Umbrella HQ under Tokyo, only before Wesker, the big, big, baddy bad guy who is responsible for everything bad EVAR, wipes out said HQ and injects Milla Jovovich with something that takes away ALL her superpowers (super strength, super healing, super jumping, super telekinesis, super pyrokinesis, super hair, etc.). Then there is the biggest plane crash ever...which Milla walks away from...with a tiny limp...that is gone by the next scene.
Having survived yet another horrible thing, she is back on her task of finding "Arcadia", a place with no infection or zombies or anything. It's totally awesome. But, when she finally arrives at the coordinates given for Arcadia, there is nothing there but hundreds of abandoned planes and yeah. Okay, I'm going to ruin this for everyone: Arcadia is a huge aircraft carrier looking thing. It's a massive boat. But, in every one of the radio transmissions announcing its location and that there's no infection and all that, not once do they mention that people should be looking for a fucking boat.
What. Assholes.
So, Milla picks up Clair Redfield (who has amnesia now because...this is something that happens to people) and they fly over Los Angeles, because you have to. They see a building there with some "please help us" signs and so they land their bi-plane...on the top of an L.A. skyscraper.
Then they meet the survivors therein.
Okay, so, you know how in the second movie they had all the horror movie stereotypes? Well, this time around, since they find themselves in Los Angeles...they went with Hollywood stereotypes!!! There's the hot, good hearted chick who came to La La Land in order to make it big, the athlete gone movie star, the scummy agent and his personal assistant...Jesus...
Everything is totally safe where they are (a prison) when, for no apparent reason, the zombies, which, up to this point, have been nothing more than shambling (and, sometimes, speedwalking) corpses, start tunneling under and into said prison. Yes, tunneling. AND, if that weren't inexplicable enough, for, literally, no reason, there shows up a character from the Resident Evil 5 video game, the Axe Man. Now...they maybe could have had some Umbrella guy mention some secret weapon or new mutation or something...but they don't. There's just this guy, walking down an empty street, dragging a huge, fucking axe. Then, he shows up and starts banging on the gates of the prison with said huge, fucking axe. The survivors' reaction to this thing? "Shoot that motherfucker!" which, while not a bad reaction, does fuckall with regards to explaining what it is or where it came from.
WHY IS THERE A HUGE FUCKING GUY DRESSED AS AN EXECUTIONER WANDERING AROUND IN THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE WITH AN AXE TWICE AS BIG AS A PERSON?
I would like to think he was just a guy, living in L.A. when all this went down and he just took this opportunity to go totally fucking apeshit. Like, he's just sitting at home, alone in his shitty apartment with his huge, goddamn axe..and then BOOM, Umbrella fucks the world in half and he's like, "You know? Lemons to lemonade, let's break out Ol' Choppy and fuck some shit UP."
Zombie shit, human shit, don't matter. This guy is about the process.
Eventually, this huge fucking utterly mysterious monster thing finds its way (silently) into some room inside the prison and then Milla and Clair beat the shit out of it, finishing it off with a blast of coins fired from a shotgun, producing a deliciously tongue-in-cheek video game trope: the enemy dying then spilling out a bunch of coins.
After escaping the prison (oh, did I mention that Clair's brother and star of a handful of RE games, Chris, was randomly in the prison as well? Well, he was.), the survivors finally make it to the ship, Arcadia...only to find out it's a trap laid by Umbrella in order to catch humans so Wesker (who is totally alive but sharing his body with a hideous mutant variant of the T-virus) can eat their DNA!!!!
Again: so he can eat their DNA.
There is a super big fight and Wesker is totally blown up for sure never to be seen again EVAR...and then things are totally cool.....UNTIL WE SEE A BRAINWASHED JILL VALENTINE LEADING A HUGE SWARM OF HELICOPTERS FILLED WITH UMBRELLA TROOPS TO DESTROY MILLA AND THE REMAINING SURVIVORS!!!!! AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
Resident Evil: Retribution hits theaters September 14th, 2012.

God, I'm not even done yet...

I also watched the Bourne trilogy.
Two things: First, Jason Bourne can never, will never replace James Bond and, if he ever does, it is truly time for me to leave this place, and, second, BUY A FUCKING TRIPOD.
What Abrams' fucking lens flares were to Star Trek, Doug Liman's and Paul Greengrass' Parkinson's Cam was to these movies.
FUCKING STOP IT YOU'RE HURTING THE BABY.

After this, Chris and I watched Total Recall. And the less said of that, the better.
I look forward to reading the Dick story the movie was based on and then seeing the new one when it comes out, although I am sad sad sad SAD that Jessica Biel will be in it.
Sad sad sad sad.

In honor of the top of this post, I then decided to watch the Silent Hill movie.
You know, aside from 75% of the dialogue, 60% of the principals' acting and 1000% of the extras' acting...this is a really great adaptation.
Really great.
After the first time I saw it with Phil, we broke the film down into three parts and graded each accordingly:
The beginning of the film up until the moment Rose wakes up in Silent Hill: B
That moment up until Rose and Cybil enter the Church: A-
That moment until the end credits: C-/D+
The major problems for me were the little girl's acting, the atrocious dialogue and every second the extras are on the screen and doing anything.
They took a pretty lazy route with the music and just used tracks from the various games; I'd really have enjoyed some new Yamaoka sickness, but, whatever.
But...the one amazing, faultless aspect of this movie was the sets.
They.
Are.
Perfect.
The detail that went into them is just astonishing and half the experience with any Silent Hill game are the environments, so I was able to forgive a lot with this movie.
Can't wait for the sequel, even though I am a bit trepidacious.
We'll see if my fears are justified...on October 26th.

Then, I treated myself to some good movies, namely the 1990 remake of Night of the Living Dead and then, the next evening, the 2004 remake of Dawn of the Dead.

The simplicity of Night is perfect. Until the zombies burst in and overrun the house at the end, you only see about twenty the whole time! And that is all you need. The only downside to something this basic is that it's almost too basic, too...beginner, that it can't possibly be recaptured without feeling intentional and like going by the numbers.
And the casting is also pretty perfect. I hated that cockring Cooper from the first second he stomps on screen. The best thing about his character is that, while one could argue he is a very one-dimensional character, his flatness is completely justified: he's protecting his family, doing what he thinks is the only thing to keep them safe. And, the hilarious thing is, in the end, he was right. If he had gotten everybody into the basement (and managed to kill his own zombie daughter) everyone would have it made it out alive the next morning when every redneck in the Universe showed up to kill some dead ass...FUR AMURKAH!!!!
Seriously, every one of those hundreds of characters you see at the end of the movie could be named Cooter and/or Skeet.
Although I think this might be the perfect zombie film, I do have a handful of problems or, at least, questions.
First and foremost, why didn't they hit the attic the second they arrived? These days, that oversight would be inexcusable.
Can zombies use stairs? It's been debated...but can they pull on a string, lower a retractable ladder and then use them?
Fuck. No.
At least not any zombies that I know.
And I know four.
Next, what the hell was up with Tony Todd's kung fu/judo wrestling with the zombies after he's stranded at the gas pump? It was both hilarious and puzzling.
Also hilarious is the look on Barbara's face when the sweet, innocent redneck boy uses a shotgun to shoot the lock of the gasoline pump.** At that instant, every stereotypical thing she's ever heard about rednecks becomes painfully true.
What is less hilarious is just how quickly everything falls apart, (hopefully) reminding viewers that no matter how safe you think you are, there is always something that can go horribly, fatally wrong, and, usually it involves the living, not the dead.
Oh, and Patricia Tallman (Barbara) could be Julianne Moore's cousin.

Next up, Zack Snyder's Dawn of the Dead.
I'm going to be honest: I don't remember liking Romero's original Dawn. As I recall, it suffered greatly from a fatal case of the Contemporaries.
*shudder*
The 70's...
But, this remake (which the guys who made it don't actually call a remake) is fantastic.
People behave very believably and make a lot of the same decisions that I feel I'd make in a similar situation.
Although I would play a lot more video games and most likely cry and masturbate quite a bit as well.
No homo.
There was very little of me screaming at the screen for a character not to do this or to rather do that instead, and that, to me, is at the heart of what makes a good movie good.
In fact, I only have one problem with the entire movie...and that is the legless zombie that ambushes the group in the parking garage...by shimmying, hand over hand on a pipe before dropping onto its unsuspecting prey.
Are. You  Kidding.
Also, at one point, they are using a dog to shuttle supplies to some dude by lowering it into a MASSIVE (thousands of them) crowd of zombies and, while it's being lowered, someone says, with expert knowledge in their voice, "They're not interested in the dog."
One: you aren't a zombie, so don't assume you know what they do/don't want. By your flawed logic, zombies might love deviled eggs...I mean...we've never seen them turn them down...right?
Idiot.
Two: Why the hell wouldn't a zombie want a dog?
Zombies eat living things.
Here's a quick quiz in order to help you remember what a zombie will/won't eat:
Is the thing in question living?
Yes - the zombie wants to eat it***
No - You're set.
Other than that? Well, it was just delightful watching the world end for these poor fuckers.
Also, major kudos to Mekhi Phifer and Zack Snyder for not playing him like a thug/directing him to play a thug.
You made a good choice.
There have been murmurings of a Snyder sequel to Dawn coming out in 2013 entitled Army of the Dead.
If it happens, I will be there.
Now, as I near the end of this colossal media and sadness fueled ramble, I have one final remark regarding zombies and their father in contemporary films:
One thing we can all agree upon is that when George A. Romero dies...he must be immediately decapitated and burned...by Max Brooks.

And, finally, turning away from media and towards my own potentially horrible news and its synchronistic connection to my career: just after talking to my father about his carotid arteries; the left, which is completely occluded and the right, which is 50% occluded, I booked a very well-paying VO gig for...yeah...the Cardiovascular Institute at the Rhode Island Hospital.
Friday I record and Tuesday he has a PET scan.

Yeah...
Yeah.







*Why Stop Making These Shitty Movies When They Pay Me So Much?

** Which, obviously, caused a massive explosion, killing the rednecks and destroying their chance at getting out of there by car, in case you've never seen this/are retarded.

***And for the last fucking time, YES, zombies eat plants...if they grow fast enough to resemble people or animals. Now, does this mean a zombie won't eat a slow person or slow animal? Well, I suppose we'll just have to find out. FETCH ME A ZOMBOTOLOGIST!!!

Such Sickness...

Since Friday, I have been sick.
I have also been squatting in my own living room since the AC has gone in and Chris has gone away to the West.
I feel like the smartest, sickest homeless man ever.
I can hear virtually NOTHING out of my left ear due to weird sick pressure head issues and I can't seem to smell anything either.
I have a 2000 word recording session with TransPerfect Thursday morning at 10.
Fuck. Yes.
I also received an e-mail yesterday from my manager checking my availability for next week to go in for a rerecord for a session I did back in March.
Now, here's the deal, the folks from that session back in March, have yet to send my payment.
So.
Here's what I'm thinking...I won't set foot in that studio until A. we get that payment from fucking March and B. we get a written guarantee that we'll have the payment from this session within 2 weeks.
This company makes, literally, billions of dollars a year, they can fucking expedite this.
I don't think that's unreasonable at all and, if it is a little, I have never been a diva in my career and this is as good a place to start as any.

In other "news", since I've been delirious with sickness I have watched the 8th season of The Office (loving almost every second of it, and, although HE says he's never gotten it, I think Flans resembles Ed Helms XMAX), the 6th season of 30 Rock (I saw where my part would have been and, although it would have been awesome to put 30 Rock on my resume, I'm fine now that I did not get it; it was for the voice of Mayor MacBeth/Cheese from the credits of the episode where Liz finds her book from the year before and starts solving all her problems before they occur. I had to do a Patrick Stewart impression. And the addition of Kristen Schaal to the cast might have made one of the funniest things on television even funnier. She is perfect), Red Dragon (Ralph...Jesus...you're a nightmare. Also, I'd probably sleep with a serial killer if I later got to pet a tiger), Paul (the movie, not the me), that Rob Zombie animated film, the Haunted World of El Superbeasto (such a wonderful and pus-filled universe he has created, Sherri Moon Zombie-- which might be the coolest name ever-- does a great job as Suzi X...and Paul Giamatti is one of the most versatile voice actors I've ever heard) and the Doctor Who 8th Doctor TV movie (which was shitty trash ass and pure piss awful. Fear and burn this.).

I also played through Resident Evil 5 on Hard...which is less than Hard when you have a lot of super powerful weapons with infinite ammo, and I finally finished Max Payne 3, which was good looking and functional with a solid noir story, but nothing more.
I'm trading it in for something as soon as I have the time.
Not sure what though, as the new Silent Hill (SH: Downpour) got nothing but shit bags for reviews.

Aside from not really being able to hear out of my left side, I'm actually feeling better, so, tomorrow, Jen Rock and I are going to play through as much of Silent Hill 2 as we can without tumbling into the crimson maw of terror and darkness...so, like, forty minutes.  I might put the mattress away...if I have the energy and wherewithal.

The lack of my One and Only plus the effects of my sickness have made me part bachelor (in five days, I have used one bowl, one spoon, one plate and nothing more) and part wounded baby elephant (I've been eating a lot of peanuts and trumpeting).
In short: ay-ee-thang-SALL-fuk-dup.

Finally, after my day of Resident Evil 5, I had an awesome and intense zombie apocalypse dream that was actually a sequel to an earlier zombie apocalypse dream. It involved a secluded lodge house in the woods near a small town with an underground...something...that was causing all the zombie stuff. Aside from regular zombies, there were also huge Lovecraftian mutations running around as well. Utterly horrifying and extremely exhilarating. One part I remember very clearly was sneaking around inside the lodge house and slowly closing the blinds and locking the doors and windows so no zombies saw the people inside. It was during the day and very intense. Then, while making sure everything was shuttered, I saw a massive creature swimming in the river behind the house, something very much like Cthulhu, but more squid-like. If could just plug my brain into my PS3, I'd be the best survival horror game designer in the world.

And my fingers have just stopped working.

Soon, I Shall Number Among The Undead/I'm Totally Fine And You Should Come Over

Okay. So that tickling frog in my throat from yesterday has gestated into a rampaging shoggoth. I have decided that I am dying. So, since I am obviously going to turn into a zombie upon my death, I'm taking steps to make sure I become the best possible zombie that I can be. I'm sharpening my teeth, totally encasing my head in a protective covering (except for the sharpened teeth, of course) and reinforcing my joints and body with chain mail. No one's taking ME down without some collateral damage... I'm also attaching a time bomb to my body, just in case. Now, that said, I'm totally feeling much better and everyone I know should come over for tea and soft, frosted cakes. Since it's so hot out, you'll probably want to wear something light and easy to chew through rather than some sort of body armor. Or something. Don't be weird about it. All righty, I'm off to frost some cakes. I hope everyone likes cinnamon!!!

End of the Month Music Bitchfest - June 2012

Nine Inch Nails
Balls.
Sweaty balls.

Beck
Aside from stunning the world by releasing TWO BRAND NEW ORIGINAL SONGS, Beck also did some old school rapping on a track called "Silk Pillow" with some guy named Childish Gambino.
I like Beck's part, but Mr. Gambino left me feeling unimpressed.
Probably because he wasn't Beck.
Beck has started his summer festivaling and, sadly, crushingly, there has been no...new...music nor any mention of any new music.
And my heart...BURNS...

They Might Be Giants
So, while Nine Inch Nails, Beck, Cake, Eels and TMBG are my favorite bands (despite John Flansburgh calling me a hipster on Twitter yesterday...although we resolved things eventually) and I tend not to really put them in order (although it's usually TMBG vs. NIN when I get down to brass tacks); let this serve as a warning to Nine Inch Nails...at this particular moment...They Might Be Giants has got you beat.
Now, how could that possibly happen?
Well...technically, I can't tell you, as I've been sworn to Fight-Club-esque secrecy as a member of the 2012 Instant Fan Club...but, seeing as there are three people that read this and none of them are in They Might Be Giants, I'll tell you...and only you.
A few weeks ago, Flans sent out an e-mail to all the IFC members telling them a surprise would be showing up in our Inboxes. A day or so later, he told us what it was: the complete demo sessions for John Henry*.
This is probably my favorite TMBG album, and, simply for being a member of the IFC, I was to receive alternate versions of the whole thing?
This, THIS is how one does a fan club.
To the casual listener, there's not a whole lot of difference between this demo album and the released version, but to sick people like myself, it's a completely different experience. Different instrument types, additional notes, alternate endings...Jesus what a brilliant surprise for us psychos.
Along with this unexpected boon, Flans tells us that our July IFC package, which contains, among other stuff, an unreleased live CD from their 2011 tour and two new exclusive 7" vinyls, one with versions of music from the new album and one with old and new covers, is almost complete.
Plus, the custom ringtones should be arriving as well.
Folks, please don't let me complain about They Might Be Giants ever again, 'kay (except for when they call me a hipster)? These guys are performing above and beyond what can be asked of a band.
And, on top of all this awesome, Flans is still tirelessly responding to practically EVERY question put to him on the IFC Tumblr site.
I'm actually running out of stuff to ask them.
Anyone have any questions they'd like to ask They Might Be Giants?


A while back, St. Vincent mentioned that she was working on an album with David Byrne of Talking Heads. At the time I thought, "that's probably going to sound pretty awesome." Well, early in June, Annie Clark sent out an e-mail formally announcing Love This Giant**, the aforementioned Clark/Byrne joint. She said they started by sending things back and forth; music without words, words without music etc. and that the whole thing was centered around working with a brass band. She also released a track from the project called "Who" (which is super funky), announced the release date (September 11th) AND an upcoming St. Vincent/David Byrne tour launching fall of 2012...which I won't be seeing because A. the Beacon blows cockass and B. I'm not going to a place that blows cockass for $125, thanks though.
To be honest, I don't know a lot of Talking Heads but this is definitely going to get me to check them out. I know they're supposed to be amazing and ground breaking and all that, so this should be pretty fun.
Hear the track, read about the concept and see the tour schedule as well as a creepy picture of the two of them over at the official site: Love This Giant

I also remembered this month that Mickey Avalon (co-creator of "My Dick") existed. I did a little looky looky at the clicky box box and, holy shit, as it turns out, he released a new album, Loaded, a few months ago. I immediately stuck my face in and, at first, was very unimpressed; only one of two of the eighteen tracks (kudos for making a full length album though) really got my attention, but, after going back to his first album and then returning to the new one, I began to dig some more stuff off it.
While this guy is never going to replace Eminem as the most talented white rapper in the world, he has some pretty catchy stuff.
Also, the manner in which he talks about how rich he is at the start of a sentence and how broke he is at the end of it is pretty amusing...sadly though, I think that may have more to do with lingering brain problems brought on by years of drug abuse and rough living.
If one were so inclined, one should feel good about checking out the following tracks for the following reasons:

• "Girlfriend" - Catchy chorus and a good beat. Fun, strong single.
• "On The..." - Great melody and a solid rap from Mr. Avalon.
• "California Crack Cocaine" - Despite the...less than radio friendly subject matter and maybe a few too many homages to other summer type songs, this could be your next summer jam. The only person standing in your way is YOU. Asshole.
• "Mickey's Girl" - You ever wonder what Mickey Avalon and Lou Reed would come up with? It's this. This song. The acoustic guitar is a delightful surprise.
• "Making Love" - I love the laughter in Avalon's voice on this one, it's infectious...like Avalon himself.
• "Take Me Home" - An excellent anthem with just enough cock rock guitar to make one almost pump their fist...but not quite.
• "Party In My Pants" - See the title? Good. We're done here.

Again, it isn't as strong as the first album, but there's a lot more to this, although I do miss Dirt Nasty AKA MTV VJ Simon Rex. If this album had its own "My Dick", it would be much better, but, alas, a "My Dick" comes once every generation or so...

Aside from that, I've just recently listened to the Inverse Phase project, Pretty Eight Machine.
It's...pretty niche, so I'll feel completely all right if you skip over this one.
Basically, this dude recreated all of Nine Inch Nails' debut album, Pretty Hate Machine, using eight different 8-bit systems.
If you don't know what that means, think of any music from the Nintendo Entertainment System...that's 8-bit. There is some pretty awesome stuff on there and it's worth a listen if you're A. into chiptune and/or B. into Nine Inch Nails...although, after I finished listening to it, I really just wanted to listen to Pretty Hate Machine...which I did.

And, finally, some great news on the Tweaker front: the new album is totally finished and has been turned in to their label for mastering! They have yet to announce a release date or album title or anything, but, judging by the old model of releasing records, I'd say we're looking at a pretty big Q2 2013 for Tweaker.****

That's all for now.
Screw.









*Almost complete, apparently the song "Stomp Box" didn't actually have a demo version.

**Which, for the LAST TIME is NOT ABOUT ME.***

***It's totally about me.

****Prove me wrong, Future Artists, prove me wrong.

No, YOU stop melting my throat...

Figured out why my head felt like a centrifuge full of piss nails and hate spiders yesterday: I'm in the early phases of getting sick.
And, of course, my audition this morning went okay.
Of course.
Because, if I book this, it will record Monday or Tuesday...which will have given the Sick just enough time to sodomize my vocal chords.
Sans lube.
Fuck you, body.
No pizza for a MONTH, see how you like THAT.
Taking it as easy as I can this weekend, probably just doing the movie for Lisa's 31st. We're seeing Ted, which should be Family Guy, but with a teddy bear and Marky Mark.
Which, if I'm in a proper state of delirium, should be AMAZING.

Then, since Chris will be gone for the next 8 days, I'm going to put in the AC, drag my mattress into my living room and squat like a God King in a Palace made of Smiles and Light.
You haven't killed me yet, Summer*, and you won't this year either.












*I'm referring to the season, not Summer Posey, a whore I went to high school with.

Are you a lubriCAN...or a lubriCAN'T?

Bleh.
I can't keep a fucking thought in my head today...which means I'll either die of brain fever or write a screenplay.

Did NOT watch Resident Evil: Afterparty last night because I had to do a home recording for the lovely lollies at TransPerfect. At some point soon, once they overhaul their system, I will be that helpful voice whose face you want to punch for Lenovo. They're either in computers or lubricants*, either way, I'm perfect for them. They just send me e-mails with words, then I say them into a microphone next to my bed, then they give me money. I will tell you a sexy, super-secret secret...I like those kind of acting jobs more than the ones that require auditioning...shhhhhhh...

Then I had to sleep because I had one of those awful auditions where there are other people. It was for some totally amazing web site with a gibberish word as its name.
It's totally going to revolutionize things and the way people do stuff.
Totally.
But I don't think it worked out because I got the note "try it so you don't sound like you're talking about a family members funeral".
In the industry, that is what we call "not promising".

GAH! Fuck! While typing this I just found out I have an audition tomorrow morning at 10:15.
Wow. I'm complaining about auditions...what a cockass.
That's like Phil complaining about having too many ideas for novels or Will complaining about getting invited over to Sir Richard's house (again) for fondue and strip Trivial Persuit...or something.
The good news is the celebrity reference for this is Morgan Freeman. So, I suppose I'd better get busy something or get busy some other thing.
Also, I should stay black and die.
Deep impact.

I guess this means no Resident Evil: Afterbirth tonight either...which leaves me feeling strangely happy...

All right, off to write that screenplay.
I'm calling it "Billy and the Cloneasaurus".








*Personally, I'm a lubrican.

Zombie Jam!!!

I'm just going to jump right to the chase people...I watched Resident Evil: Extinction last night and, put your fingers in your assholes or you are going to SHIT YOURSELVES...it was actually pretty good.

HERE'S WHY!!!

• The attention to detail with regards to making the neverending army of undead look horrifying is BACK! And mostly practical make-up, or so it would seem.
• The huge, over-the-top characters were turned down from a I'd-rather-eat-the-contents-of-a-zombie's-lower-intestine-than-listen-to-you-deliver-your-horrible-tired-dialogue 11 to a nice, intense 4.5. Yes, there was some really awful dialogue here and there but that's to be forgiven...especially in light of the previous entry.
• Fucking EVERYONE DIED. Or, at least, it seemed that way. No one got special treatment, and I find that is important in a horror movie.

Still some shitty CG, a score that tried to mimic the amazing work Manson did on the first film (with results just as one would expect from such an endeavor), some bad writing and the main character randomly developing telekinesis AND pyrokinesis, but that's sort of to be expected in the third movie in a series like this...right? Pyrokinesis? Yeah?

Plus, I think whoever told Paul W.S.A.D. Anderson to "shit up" the script for the second movie told him to "shit down" the script for the third, because, guys, it was a lot less shitty. The director (Russell Mulcahy) got rid of the weird, throwback video effects from the second film (which was directed shat by a monster called Alexander Witt (more like Alexander "Witt The Fick Were You Thinking?")) and just made a pretty solid looking action/horror movie.

I'll nutshell it for you: Anderson and this new director managed to make a ten minute scene in which people are fighting a huge murder of zombie crows NOT CORNY. I say well met, gentlemen.
Also, the intro was pretty brilliantly mindfucking as well.

The really bad news arrives tonight...with the fourth movie in the series...Resident Evil: Afterlife.
I had actually watched this one (illegally downloaded, not purchased or even Netflixed, thank you) around the time it came out and...well...it's like someone told Anderson that Extinction was way too good and that he'd have to make this new one make the second one look like the first one.
If you followed that you are laughing.
Because it was clever.
Dick.

And, speaking of Clever Dick*...I picked up the Silent Hill HD Collection yesterday, which contains HD remakes of Silent Hill 2 (the best SH game in the series) and Silent Hill 3 (the second best game in the series). I'd been wanting to get them, but used my upcoming session with Jen as a catalyst. She has told me she might cry, but, if she does, we have an NES ready to go with Super Mario Bros. 3...just in case. I'm also tossing around the idea of having people over the night of July 3rd for a sleepover but I'm not solid on that yet...

Bouncing back to the movies for a moment, after watching the trailer for the final (bless you, Big Baby Jesus) Resident Evil movie (which seems to have borrowed...everything...from the fifth RE game), I dug up the trailer for the second Silent Hill movie, Silent Hill: Revelations**, and it's pretty awful. Yes, there are some scenes of the protagonist (the chick from the third SH game, based on her appearance and the settings from the trailer) looking terrified while lights go out and the trademark utterly bone-chilling siren wails on and on, but it also features the same protagonist answering a phone (always a bad idea in any Silent Hill situation) and hearing, not any number of nightmares on the other end, but rather someone that sounds a lot like the whiny offspring of Woody Allen and Steve Urkel singing "Happy Birthday". To (somehow) make  this worse, the voice, instead of singing the girl's name, says, "Oh, uh, I forgot your name!" The only thing missing was an "oy" and a "did III doooo thaaaaat?" Anything, literally anything else on the other end of that phone could have made that more creepy. Silence, "Walkin' On Sunshine", a dog farting...anything.
Ugh.

Here, just watch it yourself.

However, as Woody Urkel as it seems, I'll be there Day One (September 26th, 2012) just as I was for the first Silent Hill movie, which Phil and I have discussed at length. They didn't do a bad job, they just needed less dialogue, more indescribable horrors and less awful cultist acting.
I'll guess we'll see soon enough...

Anyway, I'll be back tomorrow with more of my idiot journey through the Resident Evil "films".









*The much loved/feared British childrens' performer from the early 70's

** "Revelations" will always be a horrible subtitle for a movie...especially the second in a series, and superespecially if it's for a movie series like Silent Hill, where explanations aren't really what the series is about. Silent Hill should be about experiencing a nightmare and then, like a nightmare, being unable to describe the logic of it. Jacob's Ladder is a pretty great example of a slightly less stylized Silent Hill movie.

They were a bit...bitey...

Silly, silly, stupid me.
I went ahead and watched Resident Evil: Apocalypse last night.
And it was diapers.

Thing is: I was almost certain that is was, in fact, diapers, but I didn't quite remember.
Now, not only will I have that little burnt smudge in my memory where that movie is, but I'll also have this right here.
So, excuse me a moment, I need to address myself: Paul, don't ever watch Resident Evil: Apocalypse again unless you are drunk as hell or you're trying to win a bet. It was awful.

Okay, everybody back in, we're going to take a ride in the Wah-bulance and discuss this shitty, shitty thing.

First and foremost: we all know that, anecdotally, the sequel is never as good as the original (usually; obviously there are dozens of exceptions). Sometimes it's because the first movie was meant to be a self-contained thing that begins when the film does and ends when the film does, but then it does well and some soulless corporate dude demands more money and has six more movies made, sometimes the people that believed in the first film and made it work don't want a sequel, they said and did what they wanted and they're happy...enter again soulless corporate dude to fire the original team and get some schlock makers in there...whatever the case, they change whatever it was that worked and make some cookie cutter shit that some demographic just gloms onto like blind, idiot children suckling feverishly at some mechanical teat filled with brain-melting yet delicious poison.
But this wasn't just "not as good as the original" bad. The step down in quality was just...stunning.
I was actually stunned at how little work seemed to go into this. There was a drop in the quality and detail of zombie make-up (which was more than somewhat noticeable in a zombie movie. Most of the undead just looked pale and grumpy), myriad awful camera choices (blurred, frame-dropping shots reminiscent of early 90's music videos and b-movies) and the introduction of a veritable parade of horror movie cliches: from the hot, tough chick (who decides to take on the zombie horde wearing sensible boots...and then a micro skirt and a tube top) to the tough but fair commanding officer type to the so-over-the-top street savvy black guy* (in whose every line of dialogue one could find the word "muthafuckah").
I wanted everyone to die all the time.
At least if the zombies won and consumed the earth, there wouldn't be any more bad writing...just the shambling, cannibalistic dead...which would be better.

Now, here's the really confusing thing...the first film was written and directed by Paul W. S. Anderson, the second, while directed by some other person was written by Anderson as well. So...what happened? Did someone just tell him to stop working so hard and just fart on some blank paper? Did he suffer a blow to the head? What the fuck changed?! Also, the lack of Manson's innovative score was palpable. Whoever they got to replace him did a bang up job of making me not notice the score at all.
Ugh.

And you know the worst part?
I'm planning on watching the third movie tonight.
SOMEBODY STOP ME.




*Read "pimp".

Jill, The Master of Unlocking

Thanks, in part, to Jen Rock, I've recently shambled back into the convoluted, absurd and ridiculously Japanese world of Resident Evil.
It all started a few weeks ago when her and I hung out and decided to play RE5 using local co-op (two people playing, at the same time, on the same screen). We finished the game in two sessions, the second of which lasted about twelve hours and ended just as the sun was coming up. It was the most fun I've had gaming in a while.
Since this massive play session, I had a hankering to play through RE5 again in order to unlock a staple in all Resident Evil games...the infinite ammo rocket launcher.
It's a rocket launcher...with infinite ammo...and it is glorious. To be honest, no, it doesn't really add to the tension or horror or feeling of vulnerability inherent in the game, it's more like a fun little thing you get as a reward for playing the living shit out of the game numerous times. And it's delightful; big, Cthuvian nightmare comes shambling and snarling and mewling up to you and then, click, boom, done.
Delicious.

Still on my Resident Evil Zombie Train*, I watched the first Resident Evil movie last night. Aside from some less than amazing CG and computer effects and a handful of trite lines of dialogue delivered badly, this movie still holds up remarkably well. It's a bit more stylized than your typical zombie flick, more sci-fi, but it does a great job of co-existing with the RE video game universe...at least until you start watching the second (of five) sequels and begin to yearn for a time machine. They do a great job with the antiseptic atmosphere of Umbrella's underground labs and Marilyn Manson's score work is astonishing; it fits perfectly and does exactly what it sets out to do. And there is never anything wrong with Milla Jovovich ever. Except in Ultraviolet.

Going back to RE5: it's the best looking game in the series, allowing you to clearly see the horrible creatures and then struggle to try and describe them. In one case, Jen and I were fighting a huge, man-shaped bunch of black squiggles, in another, a part prawn, part whale, part vagina monster. If a Silent Hill game could look this good, I don't think I'd ever be able to sleep again. That was always something I liked more about the SH series, you never really know what you're fighting. With RE it's always an experiment gone wrong and sometimes you even find documents describing how and what went wrong, but with SH, you might get a torn and blood-smeared page from some black tome bound in human flesh rambling on about some awful ritual...and, when you get down to it, horrible supernatural evil is always more frightening than corporate espionage.

So, despite being smart and attractive, I still plan to watch the second Resident Evil movie (Resident Evil: Apocalypse) this evening. I may actually stop myself before watching the third (Resident Evil: Extinction) and I will definitely stop myself before watching the fourth (Resident Evil: Afterlife).
But...will I see the fifth and (please, sweet baby Jesus) final Resident Evil movie, Resident Evil: Retribution, in theaters this September? No. I won't. In fact, I'm so not going to see it, that I'm not even going to make a joke about it. I will never see another Resident Evil movie in the theaters. I saw the first one and that was it. This is, again, not a joke.

I will however, be purchasing the new Resident Evil game (curiously titled Resident Evil 6) the day it comes out.
Because, ladies and gentlemen, zombies are back.
In the past two RE titles, RE4 and 5, the things you've been killing have NOT been zombies, but rather people infected with something called Las Plagas (literally, "the plague"**), an organism that, essentially, removes their humanity, but, in RE6, the good, old fashioned, reanimated-dead-you-have-to-shoot-them-in-the-head zombies are back.

And I look forward to obliterating them all with an infinite ammo rocket launcher with Jen Rock by my side.









*Which sort of sums up the plot of Resident Evil 0 for the Gamecube
**Slow, unimpressed applause

Passing with flying colors...although one of the colors is brown.

The past week was the Hospital's annual visit from the State Department of Somethingorother and, just today, I was informed that we passed...except for the following issues, which were taken from the CEO's e-mail to everyone:

• MDS did not accurately reflect resident status (pertaining to dental)
• Care Plan not updated in a timely manner after a resident fall
• Documentation – refusal of care not documented for several days; vital signs were below set parameters
• Food in the kitchen was not stored in a sanitary manner to prevent foodborne illness
• Facility did not implement hand washing practices consistent with accepted standards of practice
• Facility did not ensure documentation accurately reflected resident condition

Can you guess which two I'm about to discuss?

Yes, numbers four and five.

In my eight years here I have never, ever, EVER eaten ANYTHING that came from the kitchen.

To do so would be to invite horrifying osmotic poops and screaming gastrointestinal nightmares.

And that is not my bag.

How is it that I know not to ingest such poison? Well, believe it or not, the reason is pretty closely linked to item five on the above list: because these scummy fucks in the kitchen don't wash their hands after handling their filthy genitals.

WHO DOESN'T WASH THEIR HANDS AFTER EXPELLING WASTE FROM THEIR BODY?!

Five year olds and the people that work here.

And I wouldn't eat food prepared for me by either.

One question though: how did the State know about these unsatisfactory hand washing conditions? Did they post people in the bathrooms? If so, my earlier question needs some refining: WHO DOESN'T WASH THEIR HANDS AFTER EXPELLING WASTE FROM THEIR BODY WHEN SOMEONE WITH A CLIPBOARD IS HANGING OUT IN THE BATHROOM WITH YOU??!?!?!?

Fucking idiots, friends, fucking...idiots.

*sigh*

Oh, and don't think that any of this stuff is going to be addressed or corrected...what happens now is everyone has a "we didn't get shut down" party...the food for which has been prepared by people with feces on their hands.

Bon appitit!

Switching gears to something that does NOT involve eating food tainted with fecal matter, right at this moment, one Philip Tucker and his blushing bride, Grace, are speeding their way to a new and better life here in the northeast, more specifically, Massachusetts.

I am beside myself with happiness and excitement with their advent.

Next step: get Virgin Galactic and NASA to open offices in New York and get Will and Diana over here.

Then we open an ice cream shoppe and watch the hijinks ensue!!!

All right, I'm through.

BUT, check this shit out, something positive about this weather: my hair looks amazing.

And you're jealous.

The Account

I don't role play much, but almost every time I have, Philip Tucker has been the DM/GM/Storyteller/whatever you nerds call it.
Below is an account of one of the best, if not the best role playing experience I have ever had.
It was all thanks to Phil and further proves how insane, brilliant and beautiful his mind is.
If this doesn't make you want to read more of his work...well, then you're an accountant.
Sorry to be so harsh...but you are.
Enjoy.

These events transpired roughly between 4:30am and 6:30am on Monday, December 22nd, 2008.

Philip utilized the White Wolf dice system which entails the use of 10 sided dice.

He used a random number generating website for dice rolls.

Characters have skills, attributes, etc. that range from 0 to 5, five being world class.

All "dots" were assigned on the fly, in the context of my character, there was no character sheet.

Throughout the playing of the game, the Mickey Avalon album was on shuffle and repeat, although at specific and key moments, Phil would play "My Dick".

Character name: Mickey Avalon

Description: 13 year old kid from the Philippians, a hustler working for Mammon.

    Found myself at a bar, sweating out drugs which I had taken in place of food and water after a three week party that left me stranded in the desert.  I received a call on my cell from Mammon's number and was told by a voice that Mammon wanted to see me.

I told him to send a car to get me and then I turned back to the bartender, who was a pre-op transsexual, and flirted with him, tweaking his nipples (which he did not feel).

A zebra-striped limo arrived outside and a thick, monk-looking fellow in a robe stepped out.  I recognized him and got in.

Disco lights and purple fringe.

Half the limo's interior was blood spattered and the rest was bare where the interior had been torn up.

The windows were tinted from the inside and I couldn't see where we were going.

We arrived outside a hotel on South Beach, it was one of Mammon's headquarters.

I asked the monk for a knife (the weapon with which I am most familiar) and he told me he never carried weapons because-- and then I cut him off and walked inside.

    Went to the elevator in the back.  Mist poured out as it opened and there was only one button which read "MY DICK".  I pushed it and was taken to the fourth floor where I arrived at the remains of a party.  I noticed Lenny Kravitz in a sex swing wearing assless chaps and lipstick.  I took the wallet of some unconscious rich man as well as a letter opener that had been stabbed through his hand.  I then noticed the up and coming flyweight boxing champion sitting in the corner muttering to himself over a deck of Tarot cards, all of which were "The Fool",  I entered Mammon's office where he sat behind a desk, with the monk at his side, I had NOT seen the monk pass me on the way here and there were no other exits or entrances to this room.

    Mammon was described to me as being obscenely corpulent.  I was told he might have a chair under him somewhere and that he was probably pantsless, as usual.  Mammon also has long, curly white hair that went down to his ass.  It was wispy enough to trail behind him a moment after he stopped moving.  He tells me about a job that will pay $10,000 as opposed to my usual $2,000.  I say "hit me" and then lose an initiative roll by one die.  I feel "the tiniest prick ever enter my ass".  I asked Philip for confirmation and he rephrases the statement to inform me that the monk (who is half monk and half ninja) has injected something from a syringe into my ass.  Mammon informs me I've been infected with "some Japanese synth shit" and I will be dead within six hours.  Also in the syringe was a custom made STD and my mission is to infect someone with it, then, Mammon tells me, I will get my money and the cure.

    I decide to go against my normal impulse and I jump up on his desk and put my letter opener less than an inch from his eye.  The monk/ninja fails his roll and "stumbles over an imaginary turtle, which he then stops to contemplate".  Mammon calmly tells me that his foot is now depressing a pedal under his desk that is rigged to 18 Desert Eagles hidden in and around his desk, all pointed up as a failsafe against his death.  If I kill him they all go off.  I interrupt him by pushing the letter opener three inches into his eye.  At this moment, the ninja/monk kicks me in the back of the head, causing the letter opener to go further in.  As I fall behind the desk, I hear "an ominous click" from inside Mammon's skull and an instant later, napalm is spraying out of his eyes, nose and mouth, drenching the ninja/monk (who landed right where I had been a moment ago) in jellied fire.  He falls to the ground, silently.  I kill him, just in case.  I then search the desk and find one Desert Eagle, a few boxes of shells, $200,000 in cash, about a dozen car keys and a pillow case labeled "Virgin's Blood" which is full of cocaine.  Under the desk I find a flamethrower with a full tank.  I take the car keys, the money and the DE with some shells.  I also cut a huge line of coke to ease my pain.  As I'm coming back around, a razor sharp Fool Tarot card buries itself in surface of the desk.  I turn to see the boxer has just thrown one and is about to throw another.  I take a shot with my DE and miss.  He throws again and I attempt to catch the card in my teeth.  I fail and cut the shit out of my mouth.

    As I'm preparing to shoot again, the wall behind me explodes inward.  I look over my shoulder to see a clump of pink tentacles questing around the room; they are moving in a sort of pattern which I cannot discern because I fail a Perception (4) and Crafts (5) roll.  I turn back to see that the boxer has fled into the main room through which I entered.  I spray a few shots through the wall in hopes of hitting him and instead, cause the tentacles to not only find me, but complete encircle me and lift me out of the hole it made in the wall.  I am now four stories above the ocean, looking down at a group of screaming people and a cop trying to keep them calm.  The thing the tentacles are attached to looks straight out of 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, but pink.  I decide to bite it.  It dies immediately and I land, safely, on its body.  I then step, with utmost style and composure from its corpse onto the beach, right in front of the hotel's parking lot.  The cop and crowd are staring at me.  The cop sees my DE and yells to freeze.  I take a shot at him and hit his shoulder.  He uses the momentum from the impact to spin around and take a shot at my knees.  He misses and I put one in his chest, dead.  I then look to see if any of the keys in my pockets match any of the cars in the parking lot.  One does.  The logo on the key is Lamborghini.  I look around and see a slick and beautiful Lamborghini with five models on it, rubbing themselves and being model-y.  I fire a warning shot at them and blow one's head off.  The other four models seem not to notice and the crowd politely applauds.  I get in and see there is no keyhole, only a button on the key ring.  I press it and a voice says "You're not Mr. Mammon."  I tell the car that he's letting me use it.  "Password," it demands.  I think for a moment, smile and say, with utter confidence, "My dick."  The instrument panel slides open, the car starts and it then asks me where I want to go.  I tell it to get rid of the models.  The car emits an electric shock, blowing them from the car.  The crowd applauds more loudly.  I tell the car I want to make a stylish exit.  "My Dick" starts playing and the crowd applauds and dances as I peel out.

    I then extend my arm to the car's dashboard and say "Analyze my blood."  Sure enough, a hole opens and I put my arm in.  Then the car starts to freak out.  It says "Japanese virus".  I ask where I can get the antidote.  It stutters "3....2.....3...." and then stops talking.  A moment later, the voice says "must terminate".  It then starts driving at over 100 MPH.  I take a shot at the engine from my seat and the bullet ricochets and goes in through my stomach, out through my back, back into my back, out through the stomach and in once more from the front.  Black blood starts pouring out of me.  I duck and take another shot, it bounces until it stops.  I brace myself as best I can and the last thing I see is the speedometer reading 140 and a wall.  Next thing I know, I'm sitting in the burning wreck, completely unscathed.  I get out and look for an Internet cafe in which to look up the address "323".  I find a super hip Internet cafe filled with black-clad emo kids.  I turn to the nearest one and ask for his clothes a la Arnold Schwarzenegger from T2.  He begins to give me a smarmy answer so I pistol whip him (getting an exploding ten (allowing another dice roll) which causes me to utterly annihilate his jaw).  He hits the floor and says "thank you".  I'm trying to get his clothes off him when the other 65 emo kids all get up from their seats and start to do the Robot.  They begin to slowly move towards me.  I take the jawless emo kid's iPhone and run outside.  It asks me for a password and I gleefully enter "my dick" again.  Access granted.

    I find out that the only "323" address that could be anything is a beer hall called the Abbey.  I then do as much research on "Japanese virus",  "some new Japanese synth shit", "healing factor", "black blood" etc. as I can via Google.  Eventually, I find two articles, one on Yahoo! and the other from The Onion.  They describe a new Japanese synthetic drug called tricycline 3 that is derived from orca and killer whale cells.  It replaces one's cells with whale cells, hence the black blood and amazing healing ability.  I go to find someone who knows the most about drugs and that turns out to be the head of a McDonald's that is really a huge drug dealing hub.  I need a car to get there, so I use my sex powers to get someone to pull over.  Dozens of cars crash around me, their drivers wanting to touch me. I get in the nearest one as the emo kids (still doing the Robot) round the corner.  I back over one, then again but the third time he has gotten on top of the car.  I take a crazy corner and he goes flying off.  I crush him against a wall and take his wallet.  Phil gives me a MASSIVELY mundane yet detailed description of what's in the wallet including a family photo and four condoms, one sheep skin, one Trojan and two with Japanese writing on them as well as red lightning bolts.  I take one of the Japanese ones out.  It crackles in my fingers, seeming to singe my flesh.  I put it on my dickus and my penis immediately becomes "a power rod".  On the way to McDonald's I stop to sex a man out of his clothes.  At McDonald's, I find Joseph, the 12-year old girl who runs the place.  I ask her if she knows anything about "this", and then I bite a chunk out of my wrist, causing black blood to pour from the wound.  She hands me a hamburger bun and tells me to soak it up with it.  I do so and she takes it back, puts cheese and lettuce on it and then eats it.  A moment later she tells me it's tricycline 3 and that I need to see this Japanese guy to get the antidote.  She holds up a business card, out of my reach.  I ask what she wants for it.  She asks what I've got.  I offer her the 200k but she refuses, I offer her my erect and electrified penis and she says she's a lesbian.  She then asks for me to hold out my left hand.  I give it to her and she produces a cleaver which with she cuts it off.  She then hands me the business card.  On it is written "Stephen Lee, Chemist, Walgreens".  I thank her and drive off.

    I arrive at the Walgreens and go to the pharmacy counter where I see a display for the condom which I am wearing.  A Japanese man appears and I ask him what these condoms do.  He tells me they feed off my chi and that wearing them for more than forty minutes will cause my brain to explode.  I remove mine along with several patches of dick skin.  I ask him about the virus.  He begins to give me "wisdom" and then I plant an image of the mass pelvic thrust from the "Yes" video into his brain.  He begins to furiously hump the counter before slapping himself, swallowing a whole packet of horny goat weed, slapping himself again and then putting one of the lightning bolt condoms on himself. "None of that!" he says.  I ask him what I need.  He asks to see my palm.  I ask him if he has a cleaver and he says no, then licks my palm.  He then tells me I need the poison sac of a Fugu fish, the spit of a pre-op transsexual fried on one of the condoms and then injected via syringe into my heart.  I buy the syringe and two more condoms and then ask if he knows where the bar (with the pre-op transsexual) is.  He then fades like a flower and disappears behind the counter.  I look over and see him lying there, looking up at me.  It is awkward.  I begin to suck on my gun barrel in order to get him to tell and he does.  I turn to leave when I see the front of the store is being slowly filled with the emo kids still doing the Robot.  I flee out the back and see a DeLorean with a sign that says "Drive Me."

    I get in and tentatively say, "Hello?" The car asks where I want to go.  I tell it I need to go to a sushi place.  It begins to spin around and around until it reaches 88 MPH, at which point it's engulfed in lightning.  Suddenly, the lightning clears and I'm in the parking lot as before, with a different configuration of cars.  I ask when we are and the car says, "three hours ago".  We then speed to the sushi place.  Out front there are five live sharks hanging by their tails off which a line of sushi chefs are carving shark steaks.  There are also platforms on which kids are standing in order to be raised inside the sharks and back down again.  I enter the restaurant, which is very trendy and playing German trip hop and ask the chef, in Japanese, for Fugu.  Everyone stops, dropping their utensils, the music screeches to a halt.  The chef says, "White man is not strong" I then interrupt Phil to remind him that I am Filipino.  He then says "This Filipino man speaks like a white" I interrupt him AGAIN to remind him that I spoke in Japanese.  The chef presents the Fugu, still alive, flayed open before me and wearing a breathing apparatus to keep it alive.  I bow (the entire restaurant bows back) and grab a combat knife from the table to remove the poison sacs.  As I leave, I recite the haiku "FOR THIS GIFT OF FISH/ THAT YOU HAVE GIVEN TO ME/I PAY YOU WITH SEX"

This causes people to faint and projectile vomit and the building to collapse.  I get back in the car and tell it to take me to the bar.  I arrive just in time to see myself leaving in the zebra limo. A large group of people enter just before me and, as I am waiting to talk to the pre-op transsexual, I notice that the man at the bar buying everyone shots...is the Judge from Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian.  He looks at me and nods, as if in approval, I nod back, VERY relieved, but still pensive.  The pre-op transsexual comes over and I ask him for his spit in a shot glass.  He obliges.  I head into the Men's room to mix my antidote...

   The Men's room has two stalls. one "out of order" (in the same sense that the stall in Desperado or Trainspotting was "out of order") and one with the door closed.  I had a bad feeling and went into the Ladies' room.  There was only one stall and it was closed.  I knocked, got no response, and pushed the door open...standing inside, naked and with a huge smile on his face, was the Judge with his arms open to embrace me.  He had "annihilation in his eyes".  If you don't know about the Judge, I'll relate what Philip said: "He is immortal.  He is the Avatar of War.  He does not botch."  According to Phil, the Judge has all 6's in a rule set where 5 is the most a character can have.  So, I'm standing there facing him.  He wins the initiative roll and goes to hug me (which, I find out later, is instant death, no questions) AND FAILS HIS ROLL OF OVER TEN DICE.  It's my turn and I debate whether to shoot or run.  I choose to run.  My rolls contains THREE exploding tens (which means I get an extra die to roll), two of which are also exploding tens.  I end up with a total of 9 successes, the Judge BARELY missing me with 6 successes.  I explode into the car, which, thankfully, sensed danger and was ready for me.  I scream to get us away from the Judge and the car says to do so we must enter the time stream.  I scream to do it and the car begins to spin.  Out the window, I see the Judge exit the bar.  On the first rotation, I see him removing the bolts from one of the huge arc sodium lights in the parking lot, on the second, I see him push down the light, on the third and fourth I see him tearing the wiring out and gathering it up and on the fifth, I see him making a lasso out of it.  At this point, the car is up to 77MPH.  I see the Judge throw the lasso and see it snag the car's antenna.  The surge of power sends the speedometer from 77 to 140 and the last thing I hear as I blast into the time stream was the Judge's laughter echoing behind me.

    We reappear in the same parking lot.  The cars are in a different position and the light pole is still down.  I ask the car what happened and it says we've been hurled a few hours into the future.  I suddenly begin to die.  The Judge has sent me just past the end of the six hours the virus took to kill me and I am on my way out.  I roll to put my antidote together and fail.  The last thing I say is: "Take me to Joseph".  The car peels out and streaks to the McDonald's.  On the way, I make the second most important roll of the game and stave off death long enough for Joseph to make an excellent roll herself and inject a syringe of adrenaline into my heart.  With her needle still in, I decide whether I want to attempt to make the antidote now or make it while telling her how to in case I die.  I decide to make it myself and succeed, slamming the needle into my heart an instant after she has pulled the other one out.  A moment later...I'm fine.

    I ask Phil how much money I have in savings from my years of hustling.  He says four million.  I ask Joseph how many people we could get for four million to take someone out.  She says it depends on who we want and how long it would take, I cut her off and tell her it's the Judge.  She screams and runs back inside the McDonald's, slamming the door behind her.

    And the game ends.

    Afterwards, Philip and I go over what's just occurred, bask in our utter and complete awesomeness, and then he drove me to my hotel, where I sat in the lobby for an hour and a half, writing this account.