I've been out a while. Don't chalk it up to Bronco-fan depression. I watched less than 5 minutes of the ol' horse slaughter last month. I'm more a Bears fan, and Base-ketball fan, and a Beers fan. A special blast goes out to all you lovers out there:
Happy Valtrex-tine's Day. Be safe. Don't fuck up. (And by "fuck-up" I mean get AIDS/Herpes. DON"T!)
It was 2 years ago today, that my wife-to-be, was killed. Her body was chopped in half by a meth-head driver, in a huge, speeding dump truck full of dead animals. I loved her so much. My betrothed's bisection was actually a blessing in disguise, because she also had an incurable ass disease. That ass was sick. Which is worse? Being ripped in two by a big, nasty 80 ton truck, or, suffering slowly through years of vile anus rot? I really cunt say. Only one thing is certain:
She's totally dead.
God's really just a hater isn't he? "You two can't fuck unless I say it's OK." He's such a dick. You know he watches too? Goddamn perv. Overseer. He's really more of a smiter than a hater though…
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Toilet Theater Presents...Coiled Brown Cobra. Chocolate Boobs.
It was back during last Halloween, when the Terrible Terror Toilet was removed, that the reality crack beneath The Toilet Theater first ruptured. It has now split to an unmanageable size. It will, in the near future, swallow the whole theater. One last screening will be held here. Good Night, Sweet Toilet. We hardly knew ye. Falling into a reality crack can be hazardous. Always handle snakes carefully. View at ye own risk.
Not to be confused with Cobra Woman (1944), or Black Cobra Woman (1976), Night Of The Cobra Woman is the story of a horny female researcher named Joanna. She has sort of a "Pippi Longstocking: The College Years" look. Joanna was played by an actress actually named Joy Bang. Apparently, she bang. When she's not hooking monkeys up to shit and experimenting on them, she has a scrawny boyfriend she fucks. His name's Duff. Just picture Duff from GNR if you want. Duff is accompanying Joanna on her trip to find the Cobra Woman and her Magic Snake.
The actual Cobra Woman was once a human woman. She was a nurse, until one day while exploring a cave (as nurses are often prone to do??) she gets bit by a cobra named Larry who grants her the power of eternal youth. She's hot too. Wouldn't that be awesome if just once, a really ugly chick could get that power? I believe the dialogue would go a little like this...
"She'll never age."
"So what. She's hideous."
The Cobra Woman was played by actress and super-sexy black woman, Marlene Clark. Ms. Clark has appeared on tons of TV. From Bonanza, to Sanford and Son, to The Mod Squad, she's also been in a few cool cult classics like Switchblade Sisters (1975) and Black Mamba (1974). Her most memorable appearance was in Enter The Dragon (1973), as Roper's lady. The Cobra Woman has cool snakey skin, and fucks Joanna's mananah. Tits a poppin'. Duff then gets her herpetosis and becomes all snakey. This movie takes every chance it can to show Marlene's glorious boobs. I'm a bit of a boobgazer myself, a real toportunist. Plus, they're definitely the only (non-porn) boobs I'll be seeing tonight. Sorry, I'm supposed to be talking about this movie, right?
The Cobra Woman fucks a local invalid. He becomes this Peter Lorre caricature who's face gets all crazy. Some of this movies best bits are when this guy is going apeshit. Duff gets all hung up on the Cobra Woman. An obvious choice. Some Eagle kills Larry. (I believe the eagle's name was Don.) But Larry's snake-ghost haunts The Cobra Woman. The Cobra Woman Must Die! Long Live The Cobra Women! (LINK)
If you want to see a fellah that's really into snake venom like Duff check out this awesome news documentary by Vice (LINK) Night Of The Cobra Woman is a fuckin' awesome riffer's dream. There may be more silence than sound in this shit. Watch if you dare.
If it ever becomes a thing again, Toilet Theater may return. I'm saying "Smell Ya Later" to the stinkers for now. I plan to give myself steady mega doses of GOOD movies, and reading. Thanks to all you riffers who read. There's a shitload of bad movies out there.
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Last LitSpit: My Friend Dahmer
"The premise of this book was that Dahmer was a tragic figure, but that only applies up until the moment he kills." -Backderf (on My Friend Dahmer)
John Backderf, AKA Derf Backderf (DERF) is one of the most inventive creators in American comics. Like many great artists, he draws inspiration from his own life. He's known mostly for his daily strip The City. He also wrote and illustrated the neo-cult-classic Punk Rock & Trailer Parks. In stark contrast to My Friend Dahmer, PR&TP is a festive and humorous tale told out of the Akron, Ohio 1970's wasteland Derf grew up in. Besides being where Devo is from, Akron also had many other famous Punk/New Wave acts pass through it back then. Summit County also houses Bath Township, where Backderf attended Revere High School with his classmate and occasional friend, Jeffrey Dahmer.
"A sick, pathetic, miserable life story, that's all it is." -Dahmer (on himself)
My Friend Dahmer is one of the most subtly creepy stories I've ever read. To know, even in hindsight that the dull pupa of such a brutal menace was amidst you and your friends growing up, must have been as revelatory as it was disturbing. Although serial killers are interesting subjects, I often steer clear of reading stories about Dahmer, because I find him absolutely repugnant. This story is different, because it doesn't focus on rubberneckin' bloodlust, and tells very little of Dahmer as a serial killer. It is a deeply personal story told thoughtfully. The focus of My Friend Dahmer is aimed on this maniac as a troubled young sociopath who's obvious mental illness was ignored by teachers and who's emotional needs were never met by his indifferent, incompatible parents.
"I'm often asked why I never spoke up. Why I didn't try to get Dahmer help…A better question is where were the damn adults." -Backderf (on why)
The storytelling is split, much like Dahmer's own unsettling, secretive duality. Half is compiled from Derf and his friends' memories of Dahmer as a high school spazz, and half from Dahmer's own speculative perspective. Backderf's style of cartoonish caricature adds a sporadic bit of black humor to this otherwise completely gloomy account. I believe that despite the inclusion of these few, grim amusements, (which Dahmer was the butt of) that total respect and sensitivity for the surviving victims of Dahmer's horrific crimes was shown. If you pick up a copy of this robustly eerie, and somber graphic novel, maybe you too, will remember an old classmate like Dahmer, and think twice before laughing when someone quips "He's probably a serial killer, now."
"...Some apes, they gotta go…" -The Vandals
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NOT AGAIN!
Sasquatch, accompanied by a convoy of his local fans, took off in his neon-camo Jeep this morning. Some of the Space Children from School did the art for their banners. Freak flags that now whip the cold breeze on some lost Colorado highway. At the Farewell party, there was much fanfare, free beer, and an inspired, improv a cappella performance featuring Sasquatch, Uncle Yeti, Swamp Thing, Jim Nabors' cyborg double, and Stephen Hawking. Once the festivities had ended, and the teary, thermally clad folks in the audience started to head out, a sad feeling dropped down. A heavy blanket soaked in gorilla tears seemed to cover me.
For a moment, I was paralyzed with despair as I laid on the frozen ground. A light who identified itself as "Zuzz" then appeared before me. It made sounds I'd never heard before. Somehow, I understood what it was saying. But, even more astounding, I can recall what it said to me, word for word, in rhythmic English:
"Beauty is an omen of danger. Fear is a friend of defeat. All those who can breathe can be bought. All those who can bleed can cheat. Trust is the only thing without price. Love is a beautiful myth. Death is for every living thing, every time. Life is not a gift."
"WHOA, dude." I reply-screamed. I looked down to see that I'd been lifted over 200 feet into the sky. There was a piss-yellow cloud of light around me. It was warm, then cold. I awoke soaked in my own urine, near some railroad tracks I'd never seen before. I had no idea where I was. "Not again." I thought. "Not again…"
After walking a short way, I decided to take a shit on the sidewalk. It was cold. I'd chosen a pretty busy intersection. There was a lot of honking until I swore a cop had pulled up behind me, blue strobes ablaze. "FUCK!" I fumed, as I heard his car door slam. "HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO SHIT IN THIS COLD?!?" I yelled back at him. I looked behind me. Nothing. All I thought was there was abruptly gone. No lights. No Cop. No cars. Not a headlight nor a honk anywhere. Not a sight. Not a sound. Had I imagined it all? I finished my shit and walking fast to stay warm, I drifted in the direction I thought my house was.
I woke up that morning in a drunk tank in another state. "Not AGAIN!" I thought. "Not again."
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The multitude of holes in space/time that dot the landscape of Bloggy Creek have begun to fire off and to "speak" to one another. They blast beautiful rays of singing light into space each night now. Different colors every night. Different beautiful songs that move and change with no warning or explanation. No need for one. They make such wonderful music in the icy cold sky above me. Sometimes I'd just sit underneath them, smiling with tears freezing to my eyes so hard it made me laugh.
The strange power that has lived beneath the Creek for heaven knows how long, is migratory. Where it goes from here is anyone's guess. For now, in the last days of Bloggy Creek, I will enjoy my meditations sat here in the frozen swamps under the singing stars. I'll listen to the laughter of the ancient souls in space who make miracles without effort. Such astounding amusements they all were…are. When they go, and are gone, I'm sure I will miss them terribly.
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Last Dance With PCP
We Can Dunce If We Want To...
NETWORX
I finally watched The Crazy Ones. It's a great show…if you like to watch good-looking, bad actors fuck around with Robin Williams. The Olympics are on. Shaun got beat. It's evolution. Even the greatest of snow ninjas must relax to evolution. Why are sports so revered in our country? The answer is money. Advertising money to be specific. Sports means ads. It's just like how snow and ice eventually become mud. It's a natural symbiosis. Like Mom, Baby, and the umbilicus, Sports, TV and Ads are all one thing. Oh yeah, and beer too. Big Beer.
CINEMA
300 part 2 is a farce. You can't even call it 300, ya motherfuckers. There's way more than 300 Spartans fighting in it. It was a big war. Call it something else. I'm not knocking green-screen as a comic-to-cinema art form, of course. It's awesome when it's used right, as Sin City, and 300 part 1 proved to us all years ago. Let's hope those green-screen-dreamers do right by the comic artists/writers next time.
CABLE
Alaska State Troopers has broadened my horizons. FUCK, man! Alaska is weird as fuck. Everyone is armed and they drive around crazy and wasted. Weed for personal use is totally illegal. But, Alaska is truly the last American frontier. It's 90% wild. It's amazing to think about what Alaska will be like in 100 years. How will America tame its last strange? I guess we'll see.
POLITICS
Obama's 2012 campaign song should have been "Somebody's Watching Me" by Rockwell. (LINK)
10 Things I Want To See
(But Can't Yet Make Happen)
Balboa vs Titanoboa: The Video Game.
That contrived, crazed & confused look on James Holmes' face as he's getting brutally ass raped.
A laser that makes people shit their pants. (Only side effect: violent muscle spasms.)
The Reese'sTM Peanut Butter Burger...
Optional Cybernetic Upgrades. (Or mutations that make them unnecessary.)
Nude Boobs allowed on network TV in the U.S.
Hoverboards. (C'mon, now!)
A treatise that allows the Batman TV series to be sold globally, as a boxed set, in my lifetime.
Alpha Centauri.
A nationwide 24-hour, pizza/sandwich/beer-delivery hotline.
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Happy Heart-Card Day, everyone. Love is the greatest joke ever told. Get it. See you friends where the sidewalk ends. Love ya!
-2014 Wielgorecki
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