Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Spoilers: Enough Said.




Whassup weedles! No time ta fuck aroun tonite. I got a migraine n sum asshole jus spoiled tha last Pitbulls and Parolees fer me.

Which brings me ta tha subject at hand: spoilers. We all know n hate em. Before yer able ta see tha latest episode a yer favorite show er watch a movie ya really wanna see or, fer ya ancient bastards out therr, read a book er sum shit, sum asshole on twitter or in tha hallway at yer office ruins tha fuckin endin. No "spoiler alert!", no askin if evrybody in tha room er on their friends list has seen it. Jus sum stupid fuckin comment, er even worse sum lame ass joke, that kills tha story for ya n fuckin rips yer heart out n sprays diarrhea all over it.

This type a shit has been goin on fer centuries. U know sum muthafucka listenin ta Homer spit The Iliad fer 27 n a half hours bak in tha day had it ruined by sum random dipshit walkin by in tha 28th hour who jus decides ta spout off bout Achilles stabbin Hector thru tha neck in tha end cuz he heard tha story last week n he has to let everybody fuckin know it cuz lettin u know he knows sumthin bout pop culture that u dont is tha only fuckin way he can connect wit other livin beins n provin that he heard sumthin first is tha only way ta giv meanin ta his worthless fuckin piece a shit life.

Don't fuck wit The Iliad man, fer real.

Nowadays its a lil worse cuz a tha internet. Ya cant get away from tha shit. Evry body n evry website is talkin bout enertainment all tha dam time n tha chances are, less ya watch evry piece a enertainment yer intrested in tha exact moment it comes out, yer gonna have sum shit spoiled for ya. Ya DVR Sons of Anarchy but cant watch it fer two days n before ya do fuckin Stuart Scott is makin sum kinda corny reference to it on SportsCenter n yer like what tha fuck does Tara gettin killed hav ta do wit tha fuckin Serena Williams match Im tryin ta see highlights of, Stuart? Huh? Oh shit, spoiler alert! My bad tardy Sons of Anarchy fans.

See? Shit is unavoidable in this day n age. But its still fuckin horrible when it happens ta u. Thas why I don't like talkin bout shows I like if they r still runnin. At all. Cuz even tha basic fuckin conjecture evrybody feels tha urge ta share ruins shit: "I think that blah blah is gonna blah blah wit blah blah," or, "I heard that tha actor who plays blah blah isnt in it next season so hes gonna blah." Fuck. Don't tell me! I dont want yer fuckin hypothesis or sum rumor ya heard poisonin tha experience for me.

Muthafuckas love talkin bout shit theyre into, n if they know a lil more bout it than u, they r jus dyin ta share that info. They say shit like, "I won't ruin it, I'll just say this: yer never gonna believe it!" Or, "Oh you havent seen that episode yet? I wont spoil it but it was insane!" Or, "Oh yer gonna watch that? I wont say anythin but it was good til tha ending." Assholes! Ya dont wanna say shit but ya all said shit! Now I'm watchin sumthin wit a certain expectation in my head that I aint wanna hav. I want a blank fuckin canvas in my head wen I watch sumthin. I dont wanna read tha plot summary on netflix. I aint readin any reviews. I aint even lookin at tha posters any more cuz even major studios wanna ruin their own movies.

N sumtimes just seein the cast ruins a movie.

Shit, I dont even wanna know tha run time, that way I cant look at my watch n see how much time is left so i can figure out what type a plan tha hero can come up wit. Like, is it gonna be some long, elaborate, brilliant shit er sum quick get in, get out, bullshit deus ex machina endin? Even my own conjecture fucks me up.

After I watch a movie er show Ill read evry fuckin thing about it, whether I love it er hate it. But I dont wanna know shit before I watch.

Im puttin a permanent ban on talkin bout tv shows til theyre off tha air. I was gonna say sum shit like till a year after they come out, but some lil muthafucka jus picked up Game of Thrones season 1 right now n deserves ta not hav that shit ruined. As fer movies, they gotta be out on dvd or netflix fer a solid decade before any discussions bout em. Matter a fact, theres gotta be a remake or a gritty reboot before anybody talks about tha original. Then again, theyre remakin shit that came out like 5 years earlier, so lets stick wit tha decade rule.

Thas it. No more talkin bout shows er movies. That should make tha internet more fuckin tolerable. It prolly also means no more human interaction cuz like 95% a yer conversations r bout shows er movies, but i dont think thas a bad thing either. All yer yappin is givin me this fuckin headache.

Jus playin, humans. I still love yall. Jus stop ruinin my shit. Peace.

Spoilers Won't Persist...or Shit Will Pop-off!

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Fountain of Youths


The boy reached for the toy car that had rolled under the table. His mother figured it would keep him busy during dinner, but it was mostly keeping her busy. He kicked at the car and sent it flying across the room, under an empty table near the far wall.

Jack grabbed the plastic orange cup of Cheerios his mother packed for him and ran to the car. He bent to pick it up and the Cheerios spilled from his bowl.

"Of course," his mother said.

She walked over to her son, ready to scold him. A waitress nearby said, "Don't worry ma'am, we'll get that cleaned up."

She contemplated making a scene for the child's sake (he had to learn responsibility somehow) but she held her tongue, nodded, then went to collect her child off the floor where he was now spread out on his belly, reaching for the car.

He couldn't reach it with his short fingers, so he crawled back out towards his mother. When he stood up, eating the last of the Cheerios from his bowl, his mother saw a white marble fountain she had failed to notice before. It depicted a child dumping a pot of water into a small pool the shape of a sea shell. She looked closer at the statue, then back to her son. After repeating the motion a few times, she shook her head in disbelief and called to her husband:

"Hey Will, you gotta come see this."


Her husband looked up from his conversation with his mother and grandmother. It was his grandmother's 90th birthday party and the family was celebrating at her favorite German restaurant.

"Will, check this out."

He walked to his wife, putting his arm around her waist.

"What's up, hon?"

"Look at that statue. Look familiar to you?"

"Yeah. It kinda looks like every little kid statue ever."

"You don't think he looks like Jack?"

"Sure, I guess. It looks like a little white kid with long hair, so yeah."

"Whatever. It looks exactly like him and you know it."

He squeezed her tight, kissed her on the cheek, whispered, "Whatever you say dahhling," then went back to talk to the matriarch of the family.

She laughed and took her son's hand, leading him back to their table.

"The car!" he shouted.

"We'll get it later. We're gonna eat now."

As his face began to scrunch up and his vocal chords prepared to unleash a furious screech, he saw a waitress in full German attire (green dirndl dress and pigtails) carrying four gigantic beer steins and screaming at the top of her lungs:

"We got 4 more here so let's hear it loud and clear...Ziggy zoggy ziggy zoggy!"

And all the people in the room schouted back:

"Oy oy oy!"

By the time the cycle repeated three more times, Jack had forgotten all about his car. He sat down at his table in between his mother and father. Two more waitresses came out carrying several large, colorful hats; a collection of various animals, food items, and other random silly objects. Jack's mom got a tiara and veil. His dad got a viking helmet. He was given a hat with an elelphant trunk and ears. Soon, every one of the family members was wearing some ridiculous hat on their heads.

The little boy sat in wonder at all the adults with the silly headgear. Even his Uncle Randy, whom Jack never saw even crack a smile, was wearing a giant hamburger on his head. If someone asked, this was the best day of little Jack's life.

He didn't complain when his mother cut up the wiener schnitzel and put it on the small plate in front of him. He didn't try to stop her from giving him sauerkraut and cottage cheese. And he didn't even flinch when she scooped some of her red cabbage onto his plate. 

His mother and father shared a surprised yet ecstatic look over his blonde head.

Jack continued to watch the adults with the ridiculous hats eat and drink and laugh while he shoveled food into his mouth. The taste barely registered. What was this magical place that made all the boring adults in his life fun?

"Do you want some more, honey?" his mother asked.

"No thanks."

Again, the parents shared a look of amusement at their son's newfound politeness.

As the adults continued to eat, waitresses continued to bring out beer steins and lead the crowd in cheers. Maybe they held the secret of this magical place.

When one waitress, a particularly rotund and loud woman, got close to him, he turned to get a good look at her. He looked her up and down, studying every inch of the majestic creature, trying to find any clue as to her power over his normally boring family.

The woman noticed the boy's quizzical expression.

"Hey there little man! You like what you see?" She let out a hearty laugh, holding her belly with her free hand.

The normally reserved young boy remained steady, refusing to take his eyes off her commanding presence. 

"What a cute little boy!" She tussled his hair and walked towards the kitchen. 

He stared after her until she disappeared around the corner. His parents were stuffing their faces with the German cuisine, his father chasing it down with a fine German stout. The rest of his family was doing the same. Even his grandmother was drinking from a giant stein, laughing between bites and sips.

He silently slid under the table, crawled out, and walked in the direction of the waitress without being noticed.

Then he remembered his car. He ran to the empty table and crawled underneath. He didn't see the car, but he noticed something strange. The wall behind the table, near the fountain with the young boy, had a small hole where it met the floor. There were green leaves draped over the entire wall, and it looked to Jack like an entrance to a jungle. He crawled towards it. He reached his finger into the hole, then pushed forward. The hole widened as he went, and he easily reached in to his elbow.

He pushed further and a force like a strong wind pulled him in.

-

Will laughed at the joke his grandmother told at every family function for the past 15 years and took a swig from his stein. He reached towards his steak and said, "How do you like your dinner, Jack-o?"

He looked towards his son's place at the table. Empty. He looked around at the rest of the long table where his family loudly ate, not seeing his son's bright yellow head.

He looked around the room. There were two other large groups taking up three long tables. A few small children Jack's age were huddled in the corner of the room playing with bright plastic toys, but none were Jack.

He leaned over to his wife and said, "Hon. Where's Jack?"

-

The large police officer was trying to calm the crying, screaming woman to no avail. His partner was talking to the woman's husband, the restaurant's manager, and a crowd of family members.

"We have looked everywhere and talked to everyone in the entire building, folks," the grey haired officer said, visibly disturbed by the situation that was thrust upon him. "We have officer outside searching everywhere in a 6 block radius. Are you sure there are no cubbyholes or boarded up rooms or something we didn't check, sir?" he asked the manager.

"We have turned the restaurant upside down and harassed every one of my customers for the last 3 hours. There is nowhere else to look, I'm sorry."

"Well my son is somewhere, dammit!" the child's father yelled. "He didn't just evaporate into thin air!"

The mother was pushing her way past the large officer towards the restaurant manager. He backed up and stood behind the other police officer.

"Keep her away from me!" the manager yelled.

The grey haired officer blocked her way and felt her wrath in the form of her fists pounding on his chest. The large officer grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back.

"Let go of me!" she screamed. The scene was surreal: a petite brunette woman with a tiara on her head pounding on the chest of one police officer and being dragged away by another.

"You can not assault a police officer ma'am," the large officer calmly responded.

"Don't you dare..." she began, then stopped, distracted by something behind the officer. "Wait! Do you hear that?" she yelled to nobody in particular.

"Hear what, honey?" her husband asked. He was almost as concerned about his wife's ability to handle this situation as he was about the situation itself.

"That yelling! How could you not hear that? Jack was yelling out for me!"

"I didn't hear anything," Will said, tears welling in his eyes. "Nobody heard any..."

"I think it's coming from the statue!" She rushed toward the fountain and put her ear next to the little boy's marble face.

Her family stared in disbelief and obvious pity. The last few hours had been emotionally devastating. Her husband walked to her and put his hand on her shoulder. 

"Honey? Honey, I think..." he took the tiara off her head and caressed her curly brunette hair. The gesture usually helped calm her down, but nothing was helping in this situation.

"Shhhhh!" She cupped her hands around her ears and pressed her face closer to the statue. "Be quiet! I think I can hear him!"

Her husband dropped his head to his chest and sobbed.

-

The blonde woman watched her son crawling on the ground, pushing his toy truck, and rolled her eyes. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to bring toys to the restaurant. Then again, he wouldn't last through the party without something to keep his attention.

"Bobby, get off the floor sweetie. You'll get all dirty."

He started to crawl underneath an empty table at the far end of the room. 

"Bobby, get over here," she said as she stood and walked towards him. As she got closer, a marble fountain with the statue of a child caught her attention. She couldn't help but notice the resemblance to her son.

"Hey Stephen, come here for a second. Take a look at this."




-

I Love You All...Class Dismissed.

Thursday, April 10, 2014

Death of The Warrior


The Ultimate Warrior died yesterday, and a little piece of every American male age 25-40 died along with him. Although my desire to watch grown men toss each other's mostly naked body around a ring vanished long ago, what I hope to always remain is that sense of joy I felt when the masked muscular mass with the colorful tassles sprinted down the entrance ramp, grabbed the ropes and shook with all his might, then jumped into the ring and thoroughly destroyed his opponent. He was a menace. A true Warrior.

Plus he was absolutely bonkers.


I remember watching those interviews and his matches as a little kid and thinking this was the perfect representation of a man, instead of questioning why they let a clearly psychotic man on camera like I should have been. He was considered a "good guy", but he still managed to be a badass and avoid the corniness of other "good guys" like Hulk Hogan. In fact, his rivalry with Hogan was one of the main reasons I, and so many others, loved him. He was like the cool indie rock band to Hogan's Coldplay. Fuck Coldplay. Give me some off the wall crazy shit nobody has ever heard before. That was the Ultimate Warrior. 

I had a lot of action figures and toys as a kid but I distinctly remember the Ultimate Warrior figure and the Ultimate Warrior pillow. 
Yeah, I was pretty badass, too.

He was a staple of my youth, and it's kind of weird that he's gone. 

Actually, it's not weird at all, it's just making me reflect on a part of my youth I don't usually think about. The fact of the matter is, Warrior dying is kind of par for the course with wrestlers. He's lucky he made it to 54. An inordinate amount of wrestlers die before 50. The amount of wrestlers from the Warrior's generation who have already died would be considered a tragic epidemic if it was any other type of sport/entertainment/business. It's just considered collateral damage for the WWE.

These guys give their bodies and their lives for their jobs, and most don't even make a decent living. It's a lot like the NFL, but much, much worse. The NFL denies guaranteed contracts because they don't want to pay athletes who wind up getting injured. WWE just hires all of its wrestlers as independent contractors so they don't have to pay health care costs. So even if the wrestler makes millions, most of it goes to his health care. And much like the NFL, the people in charge could not care less, as long as the money keeps coming in.

It's no secret that most of these guys use steroids, just like during the "steroid era" of professional baseball. So the fact that many of them suffer complications from their sustained drug use is largely their own fault. Now, I'm not going to try to defend them, but just consider their predicament. If they don't take steroids, they won't be as successful (because the majority of wrestlers are doing steroids) and they won't make a livable wage; besides the top guys, like the Rock, or the Undertaker, wrestlers really don't get paid that well. So to reach the top, and to overcome their often debilitating injuries (they don't get sick days so they have to perform no matter what in order to get paid) they juice up. It's not like anybody is testing them, so what's to stop them? 

Besides, maybe these guys are okay with their shortened lives because it's not about the number of years you live, it's how you spend the years you do have; these guys got the glory, the fame, the thrill, or whatever the hell wearing tiny spandex and grappling with other grown men gives them. The day before he died, Warrior (he legally changed his name) said this on WWE Monday Night Raw:

"Every man’s heart one day beats its final beat. His lungs breathe a final breath. And if what that man did in his life makes the blood pulse through the body of others, and makes them bleed deeper and something larger than life, then his essence, his spirit, will be immortalized."

And immortalized he was. His name, his legacy, lives on. 

But was it all worth it? If he knew his fate going into wrestling, would he still have done it? Do any of these guys really know what they're getting into?

And then there's the kids.

Seriously, though, what about the young fans. Do the kids know what's really going on with these guys? I know I didn't when I was a fan. I understood as I got older, after I outgrew wrestling, but what about the kid who wanted to become a wrestler? Or another type of athlete. What is the real effect of rampant steroid use in professional sports on young athletes? The mentality becomes: do whatever it takes to get the glory. Take anything that will give you an advantage and let the lawyers figure out the technicalities. You may get a suspension or fine at most, but you'll still have "the glory."

I realize that wrestling especially is just entertainment, but it seems something should be done to stop this endless cycle of drugs and early deaths. And I realize that I am implicit in all this for (once upon a time) watching these guys and buying the merchandise. They give up their bodies for our entertainment and we act surprised or outraged when they develop crippling addictions to painkillers or other drugs.

I don't know. I don't want wrestling, or any sport, to stop. As far as wrestling goes, many kids find it highly entertaining, and that alone gives it value. I also can understand why some adults (men) are still into it. It's a soap opera for guys. Even better, it's a live show where guys kick each other's ass. And if you think, "But it's horrible acting!" tell that to the guy who stayed in character with a concussion and a dislocated shoulder. Sports, and sports entertainment, are a necessary and mostly positive aspect of our society. It just seems like something better could be done for people who sacrifice so much for our entertainment. 

I no longer think of the Ultimate Warrior as the perfect representation of man, but I do think he was an amazing performer who made a lasting impact in his time on Earth, and that's all anybody can ever really ask for.

The Ultimate Warrior gave me a lot of joy as a kid, and it seemed like he had quite a bit of fun himself...

"Nightmares are the best part of my dayyyyy!"

...so for that I say, "Thank you, Warrior, you glorious psychopath."

I Love You All...Class Dismissed.