A: MadWorld (Wii Game)
The Nintendo Wii is a great success that seems to be reaching its limits. Clearly Nintendo has enjoyed the most success when it comes to sales and even more importantly, at a cultural level. For a third or maybe even fourth time Nintendo has brought home (and portable) consoles to everyday people. From children to the elderly a Wii system is something that can just turn up in all sorts of homes across many different backgrounds and types of people. You can own and enjoy a Wii without really being a "Gamer".
It is however, not to say that a "Gamer" would not or should not own a Wii. It has some great and enjoyable games some of which utilize its motion capture technology and some that do not. Games like Smash Brothers, Zelda Twilight Princess (or so I heard), Mario Galaxy (ditto), Smash Brother Brawl (yeah!!!), and a gigantic pay-per-download digital library of ports (which exists on other consoles too). It is somewhat ironic that the "casual" and often fairly crappy "shovelware" tend to make better and more imaginative use of the Wii's motion capture technology then the "hardcore" games that tend to be better on average.
This is of course only as accurate as the Wii's library for the date of Aug 14th, 2010 but I do feel it will remain partially accurate even if the new Zelda, Kirby, and Metroid games are well received as I expect them to be. Kirby in particular is one I have a lot of hope for because he's just a happy little guy and you cannot help but love him.
The problem is that this is too far and few between. The Wii is more geared towards the non "gamer" or the dreaded casual which may be a shallow way to enjoy video gaming but is certainly not something worthy of scorn. For their influence on what kind of games are deemed potentially profitable enough to be made can be problematic, without their money the entire industry is not last. We, the "gamer", the hardcore, just do not have enough money to put into this now somewhat mature industry. Which is way the, ugghh, "internet indie freeware scene" is so promising despite how painful it is for me to summarize it into four words. Forgive me.
Madworld is an exception in that it is both a high quality "gamer" gamer and it utilizes great use of the Wii technology. It does all this while simultaneously not being a first party (Nintendo developed or at least produced) game. So of course it was a lackluster commercial success because people really like their Party Babyz but it has received most of the critical respect it deserves. It is certainly a unique product on many different levels beyond its gameplay and presentation. You just have to get past the gore which is not asking much for the average gamer. There is something primal and default about violence in the human mind which makes it one of the easiest interactions to engage in without thinking about it. MOre on that later, brah.
Madworld was developed by a small, Japanese, art-house company owned by Sega. Many of their employees are refugees from the too beautiful for this world art-house game company Clover, who were originally owned by Capcom. Clover developed three widely beloved games Viewtiful Joe (I,II), Okami, and Godhand. I still have yet to complete but will someday because I love them. Okami and Viewtiful Joe are fairly innovative when it comes to breathing life into action gameplay and the third is more of a throwback to scrolling beat em ups that are little too limited for modern tastes. It makes up for it (and in a way I think beat em ups have to today in order to continue to exists) with personality. All three of them have a lot of character and personality quite frankly but Godhand benefits the most from it.
Madworld is as fun as it is polished (which is a statement you can agree with if you happen to hate this game). The basic premise is that a city is shut off from the world at large in order for a huge blood sport tournament to take place, filmed and broadcast in real time globally. You are Jack Cayman, a grizzled deadly cyborg who doesn't help people, he kills them. It's up to you to save the mayor's daughter and put an end to this Madworld. Also, there is a virus or something but whatever the story is a good enough background for interesting characterization which is really more important then lining up a sequence of events to the conclusion. At least to myself.
The streets are filled with deadly weapons, hazardous traps, and dangerous freaks. Madmax style urban barbarian gangs, private military security, zombies, and ninjas roam the streets, castles, dojos, secret government laboratories, context free "post/meta" ethnic humor laced east Asian American neighborhoods (ssrsly) and casino floors (double ssrsly). More on that later. It's your job to kill enough mooks to earn enough points for the boss battle. If you want to advance in good time, you need to get creative and intricate with your bloodshed. This is where MadWorld shines, the main reason why it is worth writing and thinking about again over a year after its release.
Much of the environment (which is colorful despite ironically being in black and white) can be used to kill your opponents. It is as (usually) easy as throwing someone into a gigantic tempura batter frying pan, down a grand diner table into a scorching fireplace, into an UFO propulsion turbine (a normal jet turbine too), into an oncoming subway, into a giant reanimated monster's hand, onto a catapult that launches them into the moon (somehow), asshole first onto a giant spike, face first into a toilet, onto electrical panels/wires, into swirling blades, into raw naked outer space (though I have yet to find this), or multiple times onto spikes, spikes, spikes, spikes, spikes. You can also chop them with your chainsaw arm, cram signposts (multiple) into their necks, blow them up with oldschool Chinese fireworks, various intricate routines involving katanas, double chainsaws, (big ass) knives, a spiked bat, a golf club, and a magnet beam. You also have a tendency to finish off your opponent with his or her own weapon. Nice touch. What makes it so great is how intuitive it is. The controls are great and you can pull off all sorts of crazy, depraved shit just by a swing of the Wii-mote and an idea. There is a downside to this as well.
Violence is such a simple basic behavior to engage in. Witness infants crush insects or pull the tails of puppies without (so far as we know) intention. This translate to video games quite well, as a maturing but still fairly young medium/media. Violence, pain, and death are such simple but profound concepts to convey that they were apparent in even the earliest, most basic of games. From calculating the trajectory of a missile, to destroying asteroids, to avoiding murderous ghosts and searching for medication that will allow you to consume them (temporarily), these things can be expressed in a simple flashing or disappearance. That dot, that person, animal, monster, whatever the game asks my imagination to buy is here, right now, I the player consciously moves over to it and 9/10 times back then and now maybe 7.5/10 times today I;m going to either hurt it or kill it. True, there are many games in the past and today where its more about beating or overcoming the non player characters but that is still conflict. One could argue that conflict is the nature, the crux of all stories but video games are a pastime that can have stories but do not need to in order to be a success. Just like songs, and some of the best ones, are narratives filled with characters and a resolution, but the story is essential.
MadWorld is a success on its own but one hopes that it will open the door for new ways for the player to interact with the environment and the NPCs beyond violence. And no, I'm not (at the moment) thinking about sex but rather cooperation with A.I and customization of the environment. Little by little we are seeing gamers games that use these concepts. It is ironically, much more prevalent in the "soft core", "casual market" particularity in browsergames. Developers of games for the more dedicated video game hobbyist can learn from their more shallow and accessible counterparts.
Beyond the game of MadWorld is its awesome, hilarious, and unique style. What impresses myself in particular is that fact this is a very Japanese game developed for Western audiences. Even though the main story itself is disposable if you want it to be, the little touches and in particular the characters are great. Each boss is colorful and filled with personality. Despite the fact that your really do not see much of them outside the fight, you get a sense of who they are and you wish you could see more of them. No matter how mad you may be at them for being so difficult. Jack himself is pretty cool too voiced by Steve Blum with a good mix of badassery and detachment. He's seen it all before but he still makes it interesting. The real stars of the show are never seen. They are two radio announcers who comment on every blow and drop of blood. Howard "Buckshot" Holmes (voiced by comedian Greg Proops) and former DeathWatch (the name of the violent gameshow you play in) fighter Kreese Kreeley (John Dimaggio taking Bender to an even more twisted level). It can be hard to hear everything they say and you will have to adjust the other ambient sounds (mostly screaming, swearing, and industrial machinery tearing flesh and bone), and the music. They repeat themselves often and that's just inevitable. They still have a wide variety of comments and jokes. Your mileage may vary but I thought they were funny. Particularity when they talk about how the semi-offensive violent theme park stage "Asian Town" was created by "throwing a bunch of stereotypes together, they (the DeathWatch) didn't know what they were doing". Being a Japanese game developed solely for Western players, it makes you wonder who is making fun of who.
The game also engages in a little edgy, ethnic humor in the form of "The Black Baron", a bombastic and deadly MC pimp who seems to be invulnerable. He even has his own leit motif! He is voiced by Reno Wilson who was fairly recently criticized for his characters in the Transformers movies Franchise Frenzy and Mudflap. They were accused of, for lack of a better word, being "wiggers" which in a throw away comment in the last fight, falls upon the character of the Black Baron too. You would be hard pressed to find another game that makes a tasteful joke about a blackface but then again, I'm speaking from the super comfortable and fun to live in Caucasian/Anglo perspective. As Rebbecca Mayes put it, "it feels so good to be in the majority/it feels so good to be a white straight man". (her being someone who possesses two of those fortunate backgrounds) This fact continues to be true no matter what little this has to do with my personal merit, personality, or competence, or the good of the world at large.
Awwww yeahhh.
The soundtrack is incredible. At first when the trailer came out, gamers wondered if hip-hop would mesh well with an action game. Beyond Grand Theft Auto, whatever 50-cent is pooping out lately, racing or sports game with soundtracks, and the excellent Def Jam Vendetta series, there is little rap in video games. Donkey Kong 64, aside.
This game has 20 tracks of upbeat, "progressive hip-hop". Well over the majority of these songs are great. I could write a whole other review just on the soundtrack. These tracks utilize a lot horns, drums, clarinets, guitars in their beats. S.O.U.L Purpose's "Survival" is one of my particular favorites. "Get it Up" by Ox, and "Look Pimpin'" by Sick YG are two greats as well. Even though most of the lyrics are written for this game and consisting of themes like chainsaws, blood, and DeathWatch it is still a very enjoyable introduction to indie, upbeat hip-hop. Go onto Youtube and load up a couple tracks. Its well worth your time.
In the end MadWorld is a great game and I predict it will pave the way, directly or subconsciously, to new ways to interact with the digital environment and the npcs. Wii's are available in stores now, you won't have to pay $400 on ebay like this cowboy did a couple of years ago. Toss Platinum Games a few bucks and pick this bad boy up. You will not regret it.
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B: Charity (noun/practice/philosophy)
A donation is the act of giving aid to someone or maybe a group of someones you are not related to. "Aid" being the key concept here as it has to be something positive and not something awful like a hard time or AIDS which is touched upon in the first review.
Human beings as a species are particularly skilled at disagreeing with one another which makes the idea of what is good, what is a beneficiary aid (single) a huge problem. From the act of blessing Somoans with sitcoms and bodily self image complexes, broadening the horizons and immune systems of indigenous north/central/south Americans (with varying degrees of intention), and teaching people who search for meaning and a sense of Earthly duty that should instead be ashamed of themselves we often do the most damage when we want to do good. We barely understand what's best for ourselves which makes aiding others a random and sometimes tragic act.
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C: The United States (Country 1776-20??)
The United States is a country located between two sensible places like Mexico and Canada. It was founded fairly recently by uppity nouveau riche and built mostly by African slaves, Irishmen, and Chinese people. Its citizens if you can even tell who nowadays, (amirite?) pride themselves in their great tradition of Democracy which is a result of it being a constitutional republic. Its official language is terrible and its currency is the Yuan.
Although a diverse nation, most American lifestyles fall into five different types: cowboys, single moms, guidos, basement dwellers, and Mormons. Sub categories exist and provide a rich cultural tapestry for you to explore if you would like to pay us a visit. We could really use the money.
There are three economic classes in the United States of America: Obscenely wealthy, overworked debt ridden "middle" class angrily evaporating into formless existential, dread, and poor ass motherfuckers. Sheeeeeeeiiiit!
The United States is one of the largest and most influential nations in the world. It is filled hundreds of millions of people who cannot stand the way they use the freedom they themselves enjoy to live their lives. Nations all over the world depend on their aid, military, and technology while devouring/aping their culture all while hating them for it. The United States is the only 1st world country with 3rd world leaders, voters, and children.
As a nation, the United States gets an 8/10 because guess who lives there? This Cowboy; right here. Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaah Baby!
Friday, July 9, 2010
Thursday, July 8, 2010
The Good to know Review show #1
Hi there, how are you? I'm great and I have a whole lot of opinions! I'm not sure how right they are but I sure would love to share them with you! Each episode we will take a look at different things in three different paragraphs. So pop a seat, open your ears, and let's get started!
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A: Dead Girl (film 2008)
Dead Girl is an independent films directed by Gadi Harel and Marcel Sarmiento. It was written by long time Troma veteran, Trent Haaga. Those of you who who do not know what Troma studios are, might be aware of their most popular characters; the Toxic Avenger and Kabuki Man. Troma is an extreme low budget and an extreme in general independent movie studio (one of the first) in America. They specialize in gore and humor and this film has a whole lot of the the former and replaces the latter with dread and a clunky deconstruction of heterosexual male desire.
Rickie and JT are teenage losers. They live in a run down dead end town. High School is going to be the peak of their lives and they suck at that too. All they have is each other, really. That and Ricky's crush on Joan, a flame he has nurtured for years. Like many adolescent crushes it is not based on reality or even getting to know the object of his desire. The goodhearted loser with an impossible dream of love with the unatainable girl next door is one of the most common narrative engines or tropes if you will and this movie takes it to its tragic conclusion.
Rickie and JT cut class because hey, no one is going to care anyways. They go to an abandoned insane asylum. Deep in its catacombs they find a young, naked, and feral girl strapped to a gurney. JT wants to rape her but Rickie manages to convince him otherwise. They leave together but JT sneaks back in latter. He and Rickie are tired of seeing the jocks get all the action and JT does not want to be a virgin anymore.
Rickie cuts class for a few days and JT goes out looking for him. It turns out he has been banging away at the Deadgirl non-stop. She is a zombie of some sort. Rickie found this out by accident after trying to kill the girl a few times post-coitus and finding it impossible. Not being much for cuddling, Rickie begins pimping her out to their loser friends. The Deadgirl is only mostly helpless as it manages to slash Rickie once in the face when he takes his hand off her arm for a few moments. Deadgirl may not be sentient in the traditional sense but she most definitely does not enjoy being a meat train for despairing teenagers engaging in situational necrophilia.
Things get out of hand after the jocks follow JT and Rickie to their love shack. They try to offer Deadgirl's oral services to one of them in order to spare themselves a richly deserved beating. Deadgirl strikes back by digging her teeth deeply into one of the jock's privates (the same jock who happens to be dating Jt's crush Joan) and infecting him. Speaking of Joan, JT is still trying to convince her to leave the popular, athletic, confident, hygienic jock for him forgetting that attraction is not something you can detail in points and arguments. She's too nice to her former friend to really spell it out to him.
The movie ends with the jock (mentally uninfected) shitting out his intestines at the high school. This was foreshadowed in the opening shot of the high school seemingly abandoned in a panic. Meanwhile, Joan JT, and Rickie are trapped in the insane asylum with an escaped Deadgirl. She kills Rickie, infects Joan, and spares JT for whatever reason. Maybe she was dimly aware that JT was mildly opposed to the whole zombie rape thing, not that he did much to stop it besides whining at his necrophiliac friends. As Joan beings to succumb to this disease (much faster than her boyfriend too), JT tells her that he always "loved her" and that he's going to save her. In the one really good moment of this movie, Joan spits blood in his face, tells him to "grow up" and to "leave me alone". The film flashes forward a little bit and we see JT ridding his bike to the asylum alone. There, surrounded by candles and wearing lingerie is zombie Joan. Strapped to a bed this time instead of a gurney.
Like Funny Games, this film makes you feel bad for watching it. It is not poorly acted, written, or directed. It just hurts. Not in a profound and illuminating way either. The fantasy crush, especially an adolescent one is not necessarily something that needed to be deconstructed. Particularity in a gross horror movie. The movie does make a substantial comparison to obsessing over someone you are attracted to without really knowing the person or caring about they want to raping a zombie but this could have been explored in a less extreme way. This movie is okay when you look at its individual parts but together its mediocre at best. 5/10 really. It might be worth your torrent time if you love zombies and/or rape.
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B: The HIV Virus
First gaining popularity in 1981, the Human Immunodeficiency Virus is a slow acting retrovirus. Don't bust out your shoulder pads and ripped jeans quite yet! The term retro actually applies to how it produces DNA from its RNA genome. There are four ways to acquire this virus and only two of them are any fun. Dogging of the raw and IV drug use are two of the more common ways the virus can be spread. The other two come from breast milk or vertical transmission during the birth process. Laaaaame!
The virus can take from two weeks to 20 years to gestate making it easy for a person to be infected and to infect without others knowing. The most common symptoms once the party starts getting started are flu and headache; two symptoms that almost never occur outside of HIV infection. The virus attacks T-cells which help direct your body's immune system. If you went to public school in the US, you might have been introduced to the "Pirate attacks the ship captain" metaphor which is so straight forward to middle school aged children it needs no elaboration. Once a person's immune system is damaged enough by the HIV virus, the are diagnosed with the helpful sounding condition of AIDS.
Upon achieving AIDS, the body begins to break down from constant opportunistic infections. The billions of bacteria and viruses that live inside normal human bodies are completely unchecked and begin to overwhelm their host. The victim begins to sprout non-cancerous (most of the time, lol) tumors and suffers from constant headaches before dying between 7-9 years.
The virus itself is a whimsical fellow, prone to flights of fancy and variation for its own sake. The disease has a hard time making exact copies of itself as it gleefully tears through another victim. As a result, its copies are often just different enough to force the world's medical researches to scratch their heads. It is very difficult to find a cure or a vaccine for a virus with such volatile DNA/RNA. Despite being in the world's spotlight for years there still is no solution yet. There are however, expensive and debilitating cures that may sorta kind of work. What we do know about the cures is that they cost a lot of money, so they must be good for something!
The virus has a way of striking society's least liked people's; male homosexuals and IV drug users. Anyone who exchanges semen/vaginal secretions/blood/boob juice can be infected but the nature of anal intercourse and IV drug use makes those two activities particularly open to HIV infection. Since condoms are a huge downer and nothing changes a frown like sweet, sweet brown HIV infection is inevitable. Unless you are a square or something.
Due to its copying advantage, slow incubation, and rich symbolic depths, this virus earns an 8/10. I would not recommend getting yourself infected but check it out. For alternative theories about HIV/AIDS from highly qualified musicians, see David Grohl.
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C: Caucasians
A race of human beings with lighter to slightly dark skin, these are often considered the default race amongst the highly educated. Skills, features, and abilities include dairy digestion, obesity, softer bones, and a predilection for mental illness.
Like most non-Biblical based humans, Caucasians originated in the African content. Their lighter skin and bottomless appetite for creamy body fluids intended for the offspring of other animals came from a genetic mutation separating them from the original darker skinned humans. These shaggy albino trolls then shuffled their way to the European continent.
Caucasians are the most dominate race on the planet today. Much of this advantage comes from their ancestors foresight to settle in regions with easily domesticated/eaten animals and resources that only required a few thousand years of technological development to harvest/utilize. Caucasians are particularly good at taking the advances of other cultures and claiming them for their own. Examples of this include the number "0", writing, and Christianity.
Caucasians earn about a 6/10 on the race scale. It is better to be one than not in the current conditon the world is in right now but much of this is due to chance.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
A: Dead Girl (film 2008)
Dead Girl is an independent films directed by Gadi Harel and Marcel Sarmiento. It was written by long time Troma veteran, Trent Haaga. Those of you who who do not know what Troma studios are, might be aware of their most popular characters; the Toxic Avenger and Kabuki Man. Troma is an extreme low budget and an extreme in general independent movie studio (one of the first) in America. They specialize in gore and humor and this film has a whole lot of the the former and replaces the latter with dread and a clunky deconstruction of heterosexual male desire.
Rickie and JT are teenage losers. They live in a run down dead end town. High School is going to be the peak of their lives and they suck at that too. All they have is each other, really. That and Ricky's crush on Joan, a flame he has nurtured for years. Like many adolescent crushes it is not based on reality or even getting to know the object of his desire. The goodhearted loser with an impossible dream of love with the unatainable girl next door is one of the most common narrative engines or tropes if you will and this movie takes it to its tragic conclusion.
Rickie and JT cut class because hey, no one is going to care anyways. They go to an abandoned insane asylum. Deep in its catacombs they find a young, naked, and feral girl strapped to a gurney. JT wants to rape her but Rickie manages to convince him otherwise. They leave together but JT sneaks back in latter. He and Rickie are tired of seeing the jocks get all the action and JT does not want to be a virgin anymore.
Rickie cuts class for a few days and JT goes out looking for him. It turns out he has been banging away at the Deadgirl non-stop. She is a zombie of some sort. Rickie found this out by accident after trying to kill the girl a few times post-coitus and finding it impossible. Not being much for cuddling, Rickie begins pimping her out to their loser friends. The Deadgirl is only mostly helpless as it manages to slash Rickie once in the face when he takes his hand off her arm for a few moments. Deadgirl may not be sentient in the traditional sense but she most definitely does not enjoy being a meat train for despairing teenagers engaging in situational necrophilia.
Things get out of hand after the jocks follow JT and Rickie to their love shack. They try to offer Deadgirl's oral services to one of them in order to spare themselves a richly deserved beating. Deadgirl strikes back by digging her teeth deeply into one of the jock's privates (the same jock who happens to be dating Jt's crush Joan) and infecting him. Speaking of Joan, JT is still trying to convince her to leave the popular, athletic, confident, hygienic jock for him forgetting that attraction is not something you can detail in points and arguments. She's too nice to her former friend to really spell it out to him.
The movie ends with the jock (mentally uninfected) shitting out his intestines at the high school. This was foreshadowed in the opening shot of the high school seemingly abandoned in a panic. Meanwhile, Joan JT, and Rickie are trapped in the insane asylum with an escaped Deadgirl. She kills Rickie, infects Joan, and spares JT for whatever reason. Maybe she was dimly aware that JT was mildly opposed to the whole zombie rape thing, not that he did much to stop it besides whining at his necrophiliac friends. As Joan beings to succumb to this disease (much faster than her boyfriend too), JT tells her that he always "loved her" and that he's going to save her. In the one really good moment of this movie, Joan spits blood in his face, tells him to "grow up" and to "leave me alone". The film flashes forward a little bit and we see JT ridding his bike to the asylum alone. There, surrounded by candles and wearing lingerie is zombie Joan. Strapped to a bed this time instead of a gurney.
Like Funny Games, this film makes you feel bad for watching it. It is not poorly acted, written, or directed. It just hurts. Not in a profound and illuminating way either. The fantasy crush, especially an adolescent one is not necessarily something that needed to be deconstructed. Particularity in a gross horror movie. The movie does make a substantial comparison to obsessing over someone you are attracted to without really knowing the person or caring about they want to raping a zombie but this could have been explored in a less extreme way. This movie is okay when you look at its individual parts but together its mediocre at best. 5/10 really. It might be worth your torrent time if you love zombies and/or rape.
________________________________________________________________________________
B: The HIV Virus
First gaining popularity in 1981, the Human Immunodeficiency Virus is a slow acting retrovirus. Don't bust out your shoulder pads and ripped jeans quite yet! The term retro actually applies to how it produces DNA from its RNA genome. There are four ways to acquire this virus and only two of them are any fun. Dogging of the raw and IV drug use are two of the more common ways the virus can be spread. The other two come from breast milk or vertical transmission during the birth process. Laaaaame!
The virus can take from two weeks to 20 years to gestate making it easy for a person to be infected and to infect without others knowing. The most common symptoms once the party starts getting started are flu and headache; two symptoms that almost never occur outside of HIV infection. The virus attacks T-cells which help direct your body's immune system. If you went to public school in the US, you might have been introduced to the "Pirate attacks the ship captain" metaphor which is so straight forward to middle school aged children it needs no elaboration. Once a person's immune system is damaged enough by the HIV virus, the are diagnosed with the helpful sounding condition of AIDS.
Upon achieving AIDS, the body begins to break down from constant opportunistic infections. The billions of bacteria and viruses that live inside normal human bodies are completely unchecked and begin to overwhelm their host. The victim begins to sprout non-cancerous (most of the time, lol) tumors and suffers from constant headaches before dying between 7-9 years.
The virus itself is a whimsical fellow, prone to flights of fancy and variation for its own sake. The disease has a hard time making exact copies of itself as it gleefully tears through another victim. As a result, its copies are often just different enough to force the world's medical researches to scratch their heads. It is very difficult to find a cure or a vaccine for a virus with such volatile DNA/RNA. Despite being in the world's spotlight for years there still is no solution yet. There are however, expensive and debilitating cures that may sorta kind of work. What we do know about the cures is that they cost a lot of money, so they must be good for something!
The virus has a way of striking society's least liked people's; male homosexuals and IV drug users. Anyone who exchanges semen/vaginal secretions/blood/boob juice can be infected but the nature of anal intercourse and IV drug use makes those two activities particularly open to HIV infection. Since condoms are a huge downer and nothing changes a frown like sweet, sweet brown HIV infection is inevitable. Unless you are a square or something.
Due to its copying advantage, slow incubation, and rich symbolic depths, this virus earns an 8/10. I would not recommend getting yourself infected but check it out. For alternative theories about HIV/AIDS from highly qualified musicians, see David Grohl.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
C: Caucasians
A race of human beings with lighter to slightly dark skin, these are often considered the default race amongst the highly educated. Skills, features, and abilities include dairy digestion, obesity, softer bones, and a predilection for mental illness.
Like most non-Biblical based humans, Caucasians originated in the African content. Their lighter skin and bottomless appetite for creamy body fluids intended for the offspring of other animals came from a genetic mutation separating them from the original darker skinned humans. These shaggy albino trolls then shuffled their way to the European continent.
Caucasians are the most dominate race on the planet today. Much of this advantage comes from their ancestors foresight to settle in regions with easily domesticated/eaten animals and resources that only required a few thousand years of technological development to harvest/utilize. Caucasians are particularly good at taking the advances of other cultures and claiming them for their own. Examples of this include the number "0", writing, and Christianity.
Caucasians earn about a 6/10 on the race scale. It is better to be one than not in the current conditon the world is in right now but much of this is due to chance.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Hanging out with Hitler in Heaven
From the Office of Eternal Self Actualization
Sole-on-Soul Division
Case #EU<2000-ah-d36015> Hitler, Adolph (alias most universally recognized). Entry 1 Primary blocks to SA: Actus Terra Firma (Warmongering, gross violation of CGHR, multiple acts of genocide (soon to be referred to as STTPHA, invasion of multiple countries) 2ndary blocks to SA: International infamy, post-mortem depression, self hatred, identity crisis, inability to adapt to thought malleable celestial environment, memory of genital abuse, guilt over incestuous "alternative" means of sexual satisfaction. Assigned to ESAHA #56123, F Tipu. Report begins bellow.
What can one say that has not already been said about the subject? One of history's most infamous villains, he is just as surprised to be here as each and everyone of his victims. Though, as any Celestial knows, surprise is one of the biggest parts of afterlife in Heaven. At least at first. Most of us get used to it. I would like to thank thank the ESA office for trusting me with what may be my most difficult assignment. Convincing this poor, little once man to enjoy the rest of eternity will add to my crown like nothing else.
{A perceivable but immeasurable amount of "time" later}
Case #EU<2000-ah-d36015> Hitler, Adolph Entry 2:
I prayed for a challenge and the good Lord [Note to Fateh, please refrain from exclusionary/regionalism nomenclatures for C in your reports. S/he does read them] did deliver. Known (whether accurately or not) as the most hateful man who ever lived [ Note to Fateh: We have confirmed that to actually be Case # NA <1070-dm-f32905> Described in Mortalis-Terra terms as "A "creepy", MI, insufferable, American, shut-in, ward of the state who surfs the internet most of time", so far. Despite the much smaller scale he makes up for it in his utterly ruinous mastery of his little corner of HOE], he is wracked with an incredible amount of guilt. Considering the mayhem he helped usher in for about a decade or so, it is understandable. Seeing as the average NAS, which we define as "75%" can be defined in MT terms as "Decent, flawed people with a few kinks, hang ups, and vices battered by conflicting cultures, free range media, and the mental health/bowel status of friends, neighbors, authority figures, family, and countless faceless strangers" We have not only those, if you will excuse the pun [Note to Fateh: We love puns!], Earthly matters to get past but I will do my best. The first attempt is going to consist of LTR in a Dachu like experience. One that will help him cast his guilt aside.
{A perceivable but immeasurable amount of "time" later}
Case #EU<2000-ah-d36015> Hitler, Adolph Entry 3
I want to thank, multiple times, for the repeated offerings of assistance but like I used to say when I was alive, he who walks alone walks fastest. Besides, I need to continue to grow my relationship with him. Having more agents involved could set us back. And as we all know "A single missed moment of eternal bliss is a tragedy it itself". He is entitled to the conscious, eternal peace we all have. Each and everyone one of us. I myself remember the shock I first experienced when I was admitted to Heaven. The things I had done when I was alive, the pain I caused. To Christians in particular, not that this place is that specific to them. Its for us all. My evil life did not matter for no soul is turned down from Heaven's gates.
Our HT "virtual" experience in Dachu has failed. Even after we took it further. Using the testimony and memories of guard and victim alike, we made it even more harrowing than the real event. It last longer up here than down there too. It was not enough. His guilt would not be atoned. We decided to to do the opposite and took him back to art school and let him live decades as a young, talented, successful painter. Alas, for it would not "stick". He could not believe he was loved, successful, and respected. His vile, distant past continued to haunt him.
I listened to him as he told me of his father. It is such a struggle; putting his viciousness aside and moving on with forever while still giving the abuse the weight and context it deserves. If cruelty is part of what made you it can be so hard to put that aside. To prevent that hate from corrupting everything you do to.
I'm going to check out the archives sometime soon. Probably when this session is over. I want to see what how things went for some of history's other great TUS. Everyone lets go eventually, right?
{A perceivable but immeasurable amount of "time" later}
Case #EU<2000-ah-d36015> Hitler, Adolph Entry 4
He is the one. Unique. All souls from the rapists to the robber baron give in eventually. They accept that they are forgiven and become part of the bliss. I thought I took a long time but this, this is unheard of. I tried rounding up as many former Jews (yes I am aware how this sounds out of context) to forgive and embrace him. Of course they all did. Even those who suffered more than others. With eternal happiness ahead of you, why remember any of the pain? I know it can be a big part of what makes you but its the worst part. An inferior, defective part that must be cast aside. YET HE WILL NOT!
I am beginning to become unhappy with his unhappiness. I do not remember how long I have been up here. Eternity begins the moment you get here and we all stop counting very soon. I know I have not be un-happy in such a long time. Its an alien feeling, even beyond its basic negative nature. I'm going to take break from this subject and pursue some pleasure. Maybe visit my family and meet some ancestors I never got to see before. I request you put him on TH and detain him in the BC, for his own sake.
[Note to Fateh: Request accepted]
{A perceivable but immeasurable amount of "time" later}
Case #EU<2000-ah-d36015> Hitler, Adolph Entry 5
How easy we forget, how quickly we remember. My sadness and frustration are not longer distant memories returning unexpectedly but a regular part of my DE. Mr Hitler is no longer the "one" the exception, we are a "we" now. The sole two poor souls in Heaven.
I can feel it in me and building inside. Rising in the horizon like a wave, slowly crushing down on . Less and less pleasure is there for me. My hobbies and interests, both P/PM give me less joy. Base enjoyment like boundless, consequence free food, drink, touch, and substance distract me for a while but through my pleasant haze it comes back. I do not have a body or brain to alter anyways; I used to be able to feel it but now no longer. I wish I could remember how I could see past that. Enjoyment seems like skill, lost to aging and a soft quiet despair.
It is with a heavy heart that I resign from my post in hopes I can return once again. It is my final request with the full weight of rank for a limited Q&A audience with Subject #EU<2000-ah-d36015> [Note to Fateh: Request granted] and with great, great humility, C [Note to Fateh: Request denied].
(ESA Office special addendum. Unconventional communication from Tipu was received in conjunction with his final report. Communication is included for point of information, despite its unpleasantness)
I know, I know, I KNOW like, NO ONE gets to talk to C but COME ON! I know exceptions are made multiple times in the same millennium. I deserve this! I need to know why the subject has not accepted ESA. Its not like his crimes are unique! Slaughter, hate, war, they have all been a part of history. I did much of it myself. The only real difference is the scale. Is that it? Is that the difference between what is or is not forgivable? What number tips the scale? How could God do that?
Letting me talk to the subject but not C just made everything worse. I spent eons with him, seeing him chained at BC, happiness forced into his being with nary a smile. He told me "No Heaven could accept someone like myself. This must really be Hell. That would make me glad because I deserve it". I thought I could get some sort of answer from him but it just made me feel more lost. His TH is going to become P, isn't it? So that his sickness, his sadness will not spread. There he is, the exception, the unique one. Is that what he wanted? Is he really getting what he wanted all along?
Case #EU<2000-ah-d36015> Hitler, Adolph Entry 6, final report. Brief filled 2nd hand as previous HA is unable to perform duty due to TH in BC.
Hello. It is with great reluctance as I resume the mission due to the events surrounding Tipu's temporary disablement. Hitler, A will be referred to as "Subject #1 and former HA Tipu, "Subject 2" are currently the two longest TUSs in the BC. Although I am dedicated to helping these two pull themselves out of self inflicted despair, I have chosen to take (what I feel) are necessary precautions. Although numerous, they boil down to mostly time and space. "Time" as in spending the least amount of it around the subjects I can and "space" as in being as far away from them as possible. Progress will be slow.
Sole-on-Soul Division
Case #EU<2000-ah-d36015> Hitler, Adolph (alias most universally recognized). Entry 1 Primary blocks to SA: Actus Terra Firma (Warmongering, gross violation of CGHR, multiple acts of genocide (soon to be referred to as STTPHA, invasion of multiple countries) 2ndary blocks to SA: International infamy, post-mortem depression, self hatred, identity crisis, inability to adapt to thought malleable celestial environment, memory of genital abuse, guilt over incestuous "alternative" means of sexual satisfaction. Assigned to ESAHA #56123, F Tipu. Report begins bellow.
What can one say that has not already been said about the subject? One of history's most infamous villains, he is just as surprised to be here as each and everyone of his victims. Though, as any Celestial knows, surprise is one of the biggest parts of afterlife in Heaven. At least at first. Most of us get used to it. I would like to thank thank the ESA office for trusting me with what may be my most difficult assignment. Convincing this poor, little once man to enjoy the rest of eternity will add to my crown like nothing else.
{A perceivable but immeasurable amount of "time" later}
Case #EU<2000-ah-d36015> Hitler, Adolph Entry 2:
I prayed for a challenge and the good Lord [Note to Fateh, please refrain from exclusionary/regionalism nomenclatures for C in your reports. S/he does read them] did deliver. Known (whether accurately or not) as the most hateful man who ever lived [ Note to Fateh: We have confirmed that to actually be Case # NA <1070-dm-f32905> Described in Mortalis-Terra terms as "A "creepy", MI, insufferable, American, shut-in, ward of the state who surfs the internet most of time", so far. Despite the much smaller scale he makes up for it in his utterly ruinous mastery of his little corner of HOE], he is wracked with an incredible amount of guilt. Considering the mayhem he helped usher in for about a decade or so, it is understandable. Seeing as the average NAS
{A perceivable but immeasurable amount of "time" later}
Case #EU<2000-ah-d36015> Hitler, Adolph Entry 3
I want to thank, multiple times, for the repeated offerings of assistance but like I used to say when I was alive, he who walks alone walks fastest. Besides, I need to continue to grow my relationship with him. Having more agents involved could set us back. And as we all know "A single missed moment of eternal bliss is a tragedy it itself". He is entitled to the conscious, eternal peace we all have. Each and everyone one of us. I myself remember the shock I first experienced when I was admitted to Heaven. The things I had done when I was alive, the pain I caused. To Christians in particular, not that this place is that specific to them. Its for us all. My evil life did not matter for no soul is turned down from Heaven's gates.
Our HT "virtual" experience in Dachu has failed. Even after we took it further. Using the testimony and memories of guard and victim alike, we made it even more harrowing than the real event. It last longer up here than down there too. It was not enough. His guilt would not be atoned. We decided to to do the opposite and took him back to art school and let him live decades as a young, talented, successful painter. Alas, for it would not "stick". He could not believe he was loved, successful, and respected. His vile, distant past continued to haunt him.
I listened to him as he told me of his father. It is such a struggle; putting his viciousness aside and moving on with forever while still giving the abuse the weight and context it deserves. If cruelty is part of what made you it can be so hard to put that aside. To prevent that hate from corrupting everything you do to.
I'm going to check out the archives sometime soon. Probably when this session is over. I want to see what how things went for some of history's other great TUS. Everyone lets go eventually, right?
{A perceivable but immeasurable amount of "time" later}
Case #EU<2000-ah-d36015> Hitler, Adolph Entry 4
He is the one. Unique. All souls from the rapists to the robber baron give in eventually. They accept that they are forgiven and become part of the bliss. I thought I took a long time but this, this is unheard of. I tried rounding up as many former Jews (yes I am aware how this sounds out of context) to forgive and embrace him. Of course they all did. Even those who suffered more than others. With eternal happiness ahead of you, why remember any of the pain? I know it can be a big part of what makes you but its the worst part. An inferior, defective part that must be cast aside. YET HE WILL NOT!
I am beginning to become unhappy with his unhappiness. I do not remember how long I have been up here. Eternity begins the moment you get here and we all stop counting very soon. I know I have not be un-happy in such a long time. Its an alien feeling, even beyond its basic negative nature. I'm going to take break from this subject and pursue some pleasure. Maybe visit my family and meet some ancestors I never got to see before. I request you put him on TH and detain him in the BC, for his own sake.
[Note to Fateh: Request accepted]
{A perceivable but immeasurable amount of "time" later}
Case #EU<2000-ah-d36015> Hitler, Adolph Entry 5
How easy we forget, how quickly we remember. My sadness and frustration are not longer distant memories returning unexpectedly but a regular part of my DE. Mr Hitler is no longer the "one" the exception, we are a "we" now. The sole two poor souls in Heaven.
I can feel it in me and building inside. Rising in the horizon like a wave, slowly crushing down on . Less and less pleasure is there for me. My hobbies and interests, both P/PM give me less joy. Base enjoyment like boundless, consequence free food, drink, touch, and substance distract me for a while but through my pleasant haze it comes back. I do not have a body or brain to alter anyways; I used to be able to feel it but now no longer. I wish I could remember how I could see past that. Enjoyment seems like skill, lost to aging and a soft quiet despair.
It is with a heavy heart that I resign from my post in hopes I can return once again. It is my final request with the full weight of rank for a limited Q&A audience with Subject #EU<2000-ah-d36015> [Note to Fateh: Request granted] and with great, great humility, C [Note to Fateh: Request denied].
(ESA Office special addendum. Unconventional communication from Tipu was received in conjunction with his final report. Communication is included for point of information, despite its unpleasantness)
I know, I know, I KNOW like, NO ONE gets to talk to C but COME ON! I know exceptions are made multiple times in the same millennium. I deserve this! I need to know why the subject has not accepted ESA. Its not like his crimes are unique! Slaughter, hate, war, they have all been a part of history. I did much of it myself. The only real difference is the scale. Is that it? Is that the difference between what is or is not forgivable? What number tips the scale? How could God do that?
Letting me talk to the subject but not C just made everything worse. I spent eons with him, seeing him chained at BC, happiness forced into his being with nary a smile. He told me "No Heaven could accept someone like myself. This must really be Hell. That would make me glad because I deserve it". I thought I could get some sort of answer from him but it just made me feel more lost. His TH is going to become P, isn't it? So that his sickness, his sadness will not spread. There he is, the exception, the unique one. Is that what he wanted? Is he really getting what he wanted all along?
Case #EU<2000-ah-d36015> Hitler, Adolph Entry 6, final report. Brief filled 2nd hand as previous HA is unable to perform duty due to TH in BC.
Hello. It is with great reluctance as I resume the mission due to the events surrounding Tipu's temporary disablement. Hitler, A will be referred to as "Subject #1 and former HA Tipu, "Subject 2" are currently the two longest TUSs in the BC. Although I am dedicated to helping these two pull themselves out of self inflicted despair, I have chosen to take (what I feel) are necessary precautions. Although numerous, they boil down to mostly time and space. "Time" as in spending the least amount of it around the subjects I can and "space" as in being as far away from them as possible. Progress will be slow.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
My little miracle child (inc)
"Come on kid, take it"
"It doesn't work. You need to put air into it. And you can't just breathe into it, you need a pump"
"I know, I'm sorry"
"I don't even like soccer"
"Come, all you kids like football. Except for American kids, not that I blame them"
"I know it's called "football", I said "soccer" for you. Whatever, why do you want me to take this so bad?"
The soldier leaned in a little bit. He was standing on top of a Humvee.
"You're my only friend here. This was supposed to be a good will mission but we fucked it up"
"Hakim, please"
"It doesn't work. You need to put air into it. And you can't just breathe into it, you need a pump"
"I know, I'm sorry"
"I don't even like soccer"
"Come, all you kids like football. Except for American kids, not that I blame them"
"I know it's called "football", I said "soccer" for you. Whatever, why do you want me to take this so bad?"
The soldier leaned in a little bit. He was standing on top of a Humvee.
"You're my only friend here. This was supposed to be a good will mission but we fucked it up"
"Hakim, please"
Monday, October 26, 2009
Changelings and Fair Folk
January 24th, 1999
Dear Journal:
My therapist says I should start writing my musings down so I can "reflect". I really do not want to. Once I have a thought, I'd like to let it go on its way. If it stays any longer its just going to bore me. I'm only 13, but I'm very jaded. I can't be excited by silly mortal pleasures. Not that I hate humans, I just wish I did not have to live amongst them. Surprised? I bet you thought I was just a girl.
.)(.
0
If you had a face, it would be like that. For I say this not out of vanity or "delusion" but in an attempt to make things crystal between us. Believe this revelation; I am one of the Fair Folk. Fairy, Pixie, Gnome, call me what you will (we have many names). Yet at the moment, alas, I am trapped in the form and limitations of a chubby 13-year old human girl. Living in the mundane middle of mopey, marginal, magic-less, A'merica. How can people like this place, this world? All the Asians and Indian-Indians I dine with tell me about how great this place is. How far they traveled just for a job and a safe place to live. How sadly small their dreams are. When I regain my powers, the first place I'm going to is my favorite curry shop. I'll pay them all back for the tips I wish I could have left and the company they gave me.
I had another crappy day at school again. Claire called me "Fatula" again and I ate tuna on a hot dog bun, again. Again, again, AGAIN, its the same drab mortal life each and everyday! I hate Claire so much. I wish she was as nice as Sylvia. Why can't she babysit her own sister anyways? Is she that much of a bitch? Not that I'm complaining.
I hate the food here, its so awful. My palette deserves something more refined. Less than a hundred years ago, I was feasting on manna and meat from fantastic beasts. Shelly and I hung out for a little while after school. She's so great. She is my only mortal friend (besides Slyvia but that won't be for too long:-).
I had some friends before her but they stopped hanging out with me when I told them about my special heritage. For a while I sorta gave up and tried to keep it in. Tried to live like everyone else. It made me even more depressed than I am now. I can make it through the day as long as I keep thinking about the future. Keep thinking about how wonderful and beautiful I will become once again. Once I get my glamor back and transform. Reform, back, to who I am supposed to be.
All my friends were on board at first, until they betrayed me. I wonder why? They didn't have problems with it when we were younger. I would be okay with them not believing me (their just jealous) but soon they started making fun of me. Then they stopped being my friends at all! They can't even imagine! It hurt a lot but soon after I met Shelly. We do not talk about it much, but I know she believes me. She doesn't have to say it, I just know. Plus she understands why I can't always be around for movies, going to the mall, or just hanging out. On specific alignments of the moon, planets, and stars at night, I need to be out in woods. Searching for my kinfolk and looking for my lost powers.
February 3, 1999
Dear Ledger:
No.. I can do better.
Dearest Tome:
You just can't win some people over, mortals are limited that way. My therapist says I should write more about "real world stuff" in you and "reality test". That's funny because if reality has a test than I think its failed. He says it will help me with my "delusions", whatever he is just one of the Autumn people. Did you see that doctor? I just called you one of the worst names a True Fae can call a mortal. How do you like that?
I show it to him (YOU!!!) and he tells me I'm not "making the best use of it". Its bad enough to be a drab mortal but one who actively tries to make things more boring and less glamorous? Unbelievable. If only I could show him the things I've seen and the places I've been. It would blow his mind. He can't even imagine.
I babysat Slyvia today. We had a great time like we always do. Shelly is great and all and I can talk to her about stuff I can't with Slyvia but she is not always on board. Sometimes I think she does not support me in my quest, no GEAS to ascend back into the ranks of the Fair Folk. At my worst moments I wonder if she even believes me anymore! Slyvia does. I suspect she may be a reverse Changeling like myself. I bet if I can awaken her it will happen to me too. I will make a glorious return to the Seelee court with my true best friend. I'll leave this slow and fat body behind for something with grace. I'll hold the stars themselves in my silhouette and I will be happy forever.
March 12th 1999:
"Dear" Sad soggy scraps of failures:
I have not bestowed any of my events into you, diary, for a while. Things have been tough and my counselor's quiet judgment doesn't help. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW? HERE IT IS! A DAY TO DAY DOCUMENTATION OF HOW FAR I'VE FALLEN! FROM DEPTHS YOU COULDN'T EVEN IMAGINE!
Shelly doesn't want to be my friend, my consort anymore! She says my elf thing (WRONG!) is too much. She can't take it anymore and would rather spend time with "normal people". Well forget her and forget them. Sylvia was and IS a better friend!
She's starting to realize that she's different like me too! She's almost six but she's already grasping the concept of a GLAMOR transformation too! I hope its powerful enough to bring me along with her. I cannot stand this world anymore! And no doctor, that doesn't mean I want to kill myself. I want the opposite; to live, LIVE in a way YOU CANNOT EVEN IMAGINE!.
April 28th:
Look upon and remember my words, for you will find nary a trace of me:
I was going to wait. I really was. But that insanity in Colorado has made things even more impossible to bear. Everyone who is just a little different (and I'm very different, very SPECIAL so you cannot come close to imagining how hard this is) is a psycho murder or something! Its everybody I could at least STAND who's getting suspicious eyes from the grown ups and even more SHIT from everyone else! The Goths, and the Punks, and the people who like those stupid video games, and the drama kids. Anyone who isn't pretty or athletic getting their ass kicked while at the same time feared for being violent! Its another stupid piece of stupid HUMAN society and I can't stand it!
Shelly is hanging out with Claire now. Of COURSE she'd do that TO ME! Of all the people she could replace me with IT WAS HER! The last straw for this whole mess was three days ago. Claire was making fun of me and of course, Shelly and all her fellow bitches were there too. Joining in and laughing at each others "wit". I thought maybe for a second, Shelly would remember all the kind of good years we had together. It wasn't as great as my old life but I still had fun with her. And I THOUGHT she did too! I asked her to defend me just a little bit. To let them know that even though I'm ugly, and dumpy, and not very good at mortal stuff at least I'm not violent. At least I'm not a KILLER! But she said "I don't know, maybe you will go crazy and shoot us with your faerie guns!" They laughed even harder than I ever heard them before at that one. I tried to leave before I started crying. I tried hard too.
So I called up Sylvia's mom after I got home and asked if I could babysit her. I even offered to pay her for it (I won't be needing money any more soon) and she laughed but said yes. I told Slyvia what happened and she gave me a hug and made me feel a little better. But it was not enough. I stressed to her how dire it was for this to happen, for both of us to change before the despair got to me and made me a Grump, an Autumn person forever. She looked a little scared but agreed. So I dropped her off last Friday.
This wasn't just for her or me, it was for EVERYBODY! Everybody who'd rather spend time in a story, or a play, or in a song, or a game, math problem, movie, comic book, whatever. When the world we live in is so cold, and dry, and gray, and UNFAIR that anything is better! Where people starve and kill and HURT each other! Where everybody is going to get old and sick and dead! Where we can only be a FRACTION OF WHO WE WANT TO BE! HOW DARE YOU BLAME US FOR SPENDING TIME SOMEWHERE BETTER! ANYWHERE BUT HERE! I feel a little sorry for them though, because I'm onto something real. Something they CANNOT EVEN IMAGINE!
We ran deep into the woods until we could hear no car or see no path marker. I found the perfect stone alter , just waiting to be the door into the fantastic! I think she wants this more than I do because she thought of something I didn't. What if she gets bored? What if she gets tempted to walk away after a few days. She was wise, wise beyond her years to not trust herself. Becoming a True Fae is hard. Specifically in this soul sucking modern "world". She was a little too big for the bonnet but we managed to get her inside it anyways. I found an old camping tarp and put it on top of most of her. I found the four biggest rocks I could carry and placed them gently on top of her, to keep her in place. She didn't complain about the weight but I could tell it hurt her a little. I kissed her goodbye and ran home.
I convinced her mom she was sleeping at my house and my mom the opposite. They are starting to get suspicious but I just have to hold out a little longer. Any minute the Changelings and Fairfolk will take her in and awaken her true essence. I'll know when this happens instantly because it will happen to me too! Things will be better than anything possible in the "real world". You cannot even imagine...
(No more entries were found)
Monday, September 21, 2009
Try not to stare
Why do I have to wear shoes like these?
She was having a bit of a hard time keeping her game face on. Her bridge, a part of her body she did not know existed until it started to hurt, was aching. She gritted herself, wanting to show strength and tenacity. Her job was to give as little as possible in this merger.
How is this even professional? Why do I need to be three to four inches taller than I actually am? Does this make me a more shrewd broker?
She looked around and yes, it was mostly men but not that much. Things weren't equal but she had seen success. She felt like a "she" who could be successful. Sheccessful! This was her chance to stand out a little bit above the crowd. Be more than someone in between the middle of entry level. Be a closer, or a shark, Sheshark!
Still, she felt like she had to wear those shoes.
Do they make me that much more sexy? I'm a pretty tall girl to begin with. I might be intimidating some of the smaller guys. Maybe that's what they want me to do?
She kept thinking about how uncomfortable her shoes were because the merger was going nowhere. That and her shoes were kind of painful and impractical but the merger was going nowhere. It sucked. She felt like she was an ace pilot assigned to some fake, dumb ass war game where all she could do was circle around her opponent and try to avoid having the same done to her. There were no bullets, no bombs, no action. Just one group of highly educated professionals staring down another group of highly educated professionals. Fighting over who loses the least in an ever shrinking pot.
Her supervisor, a ladyshark who had worked her way up to loafers, touched her shoulder.
"Liz, we're getting nowhere, I'm calling him in"
She leaned a little bit towards her without changing the direction of her face. It would have been easier to turn but she thought it looked cooler this way. Like a crime boss or a secret agent.
"Who's 'him?'"
"Him. You'll see"
She pulled out a cellphone that was small and gray. It was very no frills and looked outdated. It only had one button in it's center. It had a little square cover over it that had to be carefully lifted. Her supervisor did and with a visible reluctance, pushed the center. After waiting for 40 seconds, she crushed the whole phone into her palm. It crunched fairly easily. Liz watched her wrap it in a small plastic bag and place the broken device back into her coat. Her supervisor leaned back into her and said
"He's the best and he's on his way"
Liz nodded. She then grabbed her forearm. Yikes!
"Try not to stare"
She walked out. She looked like she wanted to avoid something.
Liz sat down for a while and found it to be a small comfort. She heard a faint slapping, scrapping like something fleshy being dragged across the ground. The rest of the room noticed too and began to quiet themselves in awkward anticipation. The door opened. It banged against the frame. He glided in.
"Alright you fucking babies, what's the problem?"
He sounded like someone who would never even consider raising his voice. It just always sounded loud, no matter what the tone volume. He grabbed your attention with his words and his otherworldly appearance. He stalked around the room, challenging each and everyone with his presence.
"We're all dying out there and you both know we need to stem the bleeding or you're both going down"
She could not stop starring at him, exactly as her boss told her not to do! No one could help it. How did he eat? Or sleep? Could he make love or use a bathroom? Was he born this way? Was it a curse or a mad experiment? How could anyone acquire a condition such as this?
Defying all expectations, he sat down. It looked impossible and uncomfortable be he seemed fine with it. Hands on his lap, he looked around. You had to strain to see it, but he pointed to himself with his thumb.
She was having a bit of a hard time keeping her game face on. Her bridge, a part of her body she did not know existed until it started to hurt, was aching. She gritted herself, wanting to show strength and tenacity. Her job was to give as little as possible in this merger.
How is this even professional? Why do I need to be three to four inches taller than I actually am? Does this make me a more shrewd broker?
She looked around and yes, it was mostly men but not that much. Things weren't equal but she had seen success. She felt like a "she" who could be successful. Sheccessful! This was her chance to stand out a little bit above the crowd. Be more than someone in between the middle of entry level. Be a closer, or a shark, Sheshark!
Still, she felt like she had to wear those shoes.
Do they make me that much more sexy? I'm a pretty tall girl to begin with. I might be intimidating some of the smaller guys. Maybe that's what they want me to do?
She kept thinking about how uncomfortable her shoes were because the merger was going nowhere. That and her shoes were kind of painful and impractical but the merger was going nowhere. It sucked. She felt like she was an ace pilot assigned to some fake, dumb ass war game where all she could do was circle around her opponent and try to avoid having the same done to her. There were no bullets, no bombs, no action. Just one group of highly educated professionals staring down another group of highly educated professionals. Fighting over who loses the least in an ever shrinking pot.
Her supervisor, a ladyshark who had worked her way up to loafers, touched her shoulder.
"Liz, we're getting nowhere, I'm calling him in"
She leaned a little bit towards her without changing the direction of her face. It would have been easier to turn but she thought it looked cooler this way. Like a crime boss or a secret agent.
"Who's 'him?'"
"Him. You'll see"
She pulled out a cellphone that was small and gray. It was very no frills and looked outdated. It only had one button in it's center. It had a little square cover over it that had to be carefully lifted. Her supervisor did and with a visible reluctance, pushed the center. After waiting for 40 seconds, she crushed the whole phone into her palm. It crunched fairly easily. Liz watched her wrap it in a small plastic bag and place the broken device back into her coat. Her supervisor leaned back into her and said
"He's the best and he's on his way"
Liz nodded. She then grabbed her forearm. Yikes!
"Try not to stare"
She walked out. She looked like she wanted to avoid something.
Liz sat down for a while and found it to be a small comfort. She heard a faint slapping, scrapping like something fleshy being dragged across the ground. The rest of the room noticed too and began to quiet themselves in awkward anticipation. The door opened. It banged against the frame. He glided in.
"Alright you fucking babies, what's the problem?"
He sounded like someone who would never even consider raising his voice. It just always sounded loud, no matter what the tone volume. He grabbed your attention with his words and his otherworldly appearance. He stalked around the room, challenging each and everyone with his presence.
"We're all dying out there and you both know we need to stem the bleeding or you're both going down"
She could not stop starring at him, exactly as her boss told her not to do! No one could help it. How did he eat? Or sleep? Could he make love or use a bathroom? Was he born this way? Was it a curse or a mad experiment? How could anyone acquire a condition such as this?
Defying all expectations, he sat down. It looked impossible and uncomfortable be he seemed fine with it. Hands on his lap, he looked around. You had to strain to see it, but he pointed to himself with his thumb.
"Both of you have brands and capital I would have killed for. Do you know what I started with?"
He waited. Time hung, sucking up all the room's air. No one blinked. Was this a question he wanted someone else to answer? No one wanted to take that chance. He continued to point at himself and he gestured wildly with his other hand. It was hard to watch.
"Fucking LOOK AT ME! LOOOOK, LOOOOK, LOOOOOOOOOOOOK ATTTTTTTTTT MEEEEEEE! YOU CAN IMAGINE WHAT KIND OF CRAVEN 'PEOPLE' WITH NO OTHER OPTIONS LEFT AND WHAT KIND OF DEGRADING OPERATION WAS DESPERATE ENOUGH TO GIVE ME MY FIRST JOB AND YOU WOULDN'T EVEN COME FUCKING CLOSE!"
All Liz could think was how much she did not want this man to involve her personally in his "pep-talk"
He got back up. It was like some sort of spin or flip and a few in the room gasped when it happened. His feet rose to the sky once again as he glided and skidded over to, (sure enough) her.
"Hey. Hey!....Miss America, I'm talking to you"
Being terrified while on what was supposed to be "Biz-caz Friday" is quite a sorry situation. This merger was going three days too long and everyone was feeling the heat. Now all Liz could feel is a chill as he hovered over her, a backwards awkward menace.
"Are you going to be downsized before you turn 24?"
She sat there as he loomed over her. His feet were right in her face.The question made her mouth drop. He rotated. They had to look down, but each set of eyes was locked onto his.
"All that I ask, is that you earn your pay. Try, try really hard, to make sure you have a company to work for by this Monday"
He glided out of the room and never looked back, skidding a little bit on the way out. They sat in silence.
She looked around. She drew her breath. The worst was over. She felt emboldened.
"You heard him. Let's revisit some of the bigger conflicts we have and work from there"
And so they did. Neither side left happy but it was completed, eventually.
Later that night, she would tell her boyfriend of the man she met that day.
"He was upside down?"
"Yeah. Just upside down. His feet were straight up in the air and sometimes his head would drag against the floor, like he was limping or something. He stood up straight and was normal every other way. Just, upside down"
"How did he walk? Did he use his hands?"
"No, he just kind of took steps off the air"
"That doesn't make any sense! How did he do that?"
"I DON'T KNOW!"
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Dunk n Run
She knelt down, ready to spring to action. Her breath stopped. She waited for it. Waited. Still waiting. Nothing. Not knowing was almost as bad to Asha-lee as the real thing. She was not a fan of surprises. Knowing did not make it any less awful but it did make it less devastating.
She put her hand on the pavement. There it was. It was pulsing, churning like a sick stomach. Hoping it was a jackhammer or some out-of-state/imaginary subway she waited. Waited. Still waiting.
"Clear the area right now! I want a 3 block radius shut down. WE HAVE A RISER! I REPEAT, WE HAVE A RISER!"
It felt like the "Munchkin Mess" of 1985. The one that got her started....
_____________________________________________________________
He was hunched over, looking for the marker as the school had recently updated to whiteboards. There it was; the slit. A coin slot, man hole, plumber's crack, etc. Asha-le looked at the nook on her desk chair where she was encouraged to keep her pencils. She considered the cost/benefit analysis of what she wanted to do very maturely, but still came to the childish conclusion to drop her pencil in her substitute teacher's pants.
I'm going for it
Asha-le hoped no one would tattle her out and ruin the surprise. She liked surprises back then. She leaned in and dropped it. He did not notice.
"I'll find ol' Bluey in a second kids, just sit tight"
He did not hear the snickers and giggles. This was the greatest health class she ever had. She hoped her peers would recognize that it was she who deftly inserted the pencil into the sub's buttcrack.
A nervous chill went down her spine. It prowled her stomach, making her edgy and uncomfortable.
Krrrrrrrrk
The room caught her chill. Everyone felt the desks shake and the shades rattle. The radiator sputtered.
"What's going on?"
The substitute teacher stood up and as something slid down his right pants leg.
"Okay, relax. And who dropped a pencil down my pants? I lost a lot of weight recently and its hard to find things in my closet that fit my...."
Just like that, the floor beneath the sub sunk in. He was gone. The children began to scream. They began to panic rushing the door. Asha-le froze. She was waiting for something to
She put her hand on the pavement. There it was. It was pulsing, churning like a sick stomach. Hoping it was a jackhammer or some out-of-state/imaginary subway she waited. Waited. Still waiting.
Still there
Now here!
"Clear the area right now! I want a 3 block radius shut down. WE HAVE A RISER! I REPEAT, WE HAVE A RISER!"
It felt like the "Munchkin Mess" of 1985. The one that got her started....
_____________________________________________________________
He was hunched over, looking for the marker as the school had recently updated to whiteboards. There it was; the slit. A coin slot, man hole, plumber's crack, etc. Asha-le looked at the nook on her desk chair where she was encouraged to keep her pencils. She considered the cost/benefit analysis of what she wanted to do very maturely, but still came to the childish conclusion to drop her pencil in her substitute teacher's pants.
I'm going for it
Asha-le hoped no one would tattle her out and ruin the surprise. She liked surprises back then. She leaned in and dropped it. He did not notice.
"I'll find ol' Bluey in a second kids, just sit tight"
He did not hear the snickers and giggles. This was the greatest health class she ever had. She hoped her peers would recognize that it was she who deftly inserted the pencil into the sub's buttcrack.
A nervous chill went down her spine. It prowled her stomach, making her edgy and uncomfortable.
Krrrrrrrrk
The room caught her chill. Everyone felt the desks shake and the shades rattle. The radiator sputtered.
"What's going on?"
The substitute teacher stood up and as something slid down his right pants leg.
"Okay, relax. And who dropped a pencil down my pants? I lost a lot of weight recently and its hard to find things in my closet that fit my...."
Foooooom
Just like that, the floor beneath the sub sunk in. He was gone. The children began to scream. They began to panic rushing the door. Asha-le froze. She was waiting for something to
KRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRK FOOOOOOOOM
The children slid and fell atop one another before disappearing like their substitute. Just like that. Though young, she knew they would be dead the next time she saw them, should she ever get the opportunity. Pawtucket is a hard city to grow up in. Once those mills shut down it took everyone's will to live with it.
She sat in her desk chair. Asha-le sniffed a few times. It was an attempt to hold in her tears. She did not want to let them out until her mother was there to catch them. They trickled out a little bit as she frowned. She clenched her fists and sucked in the dusty air.
"Lee..Help..Help me"
Springing out of her chair, she remembered her cousin Byron. She dashed over to the hole. It looked like a popped zit; violently unfolded with sick jagged edges. There was a small patch of floor between where the substitute fell and the hole near the door. She hopped onto it and then peered down at the larger opening near it.
It was odd looking at her school from the top down. She had seen a blueprint of Goff Community Middle School before, so nothing really surprised her. She still gasped, unprepared for it to be this unstable. Girders and beams burrowed through walls that shouldn't be. She got on her knees and leaned a little forward.
Grabbing onto the edge as she slipped, she hung there facing forward with her arms behind her back. She looked for something close enough to fall on, took a risk, and went for it. The sound of her landing shook her more than the impact but she felt okay enough to hop down from the cafeteria landing.
The floor was covered in coffee. She sought the faint moaning curling around her ears.
Before it really hit her, she buffered her feelings; observing to delay that Byron's blood wasn't really changing the color of the Dark Roast very much.
_____________________________________________________________
The official term became "Unplanned franchise eruption" as it was officially referred to by the worried experts who ran domesticated, benign locations, would prove to be far less destructive. At least on the surface. There was the great likelihood of hundreds of thousands in damages to sewers, street, and the aging grid. This was Pawtucket after all and sometimes its hard to gauge the freshness of local ruin.
Most flee a rising to at least a 500 foot radial distance but not her. She knew this intuitively at first. Over time it was developed with specific studies in physics, architecture, and probability. Despite all this, Asha-le was always the first one in during a recently metastasized specimen.
The pavement cracked with a dull roar as the medium sized franchise rose. Dust flew up into the air and rocks fell to the ground. Power lines tipped over as this building completed itself. A light gray granite sludge rose and dried beneath it, providing support.
Beyond the suddenness and the naked impossibility of buildings violently constructing themselves, Asha-le was unnerved by its completeness. As soon as a wild, unplanned Dunkin Donuts settled, its products manifested. Muffins, coffee, donuts, biscuits, liquid egg mix, sugar and Sweet & Low packets, sometimes even pipping hot espresso (in wealthier neighborhoods somehow it "knew"). This did not stop her from grabbing a low fat Blue Berry muffin and eating it. Thousands of hours of analysis had proven the food to be no more toxic than domesticated products from control group franchises.
Something always brings me back to you/it never takes too long
She grabbed a napkin and wiped her face. While her hand was reaching her eyes stopped at a round metal container full of plastic knives. She took one and snapped it in half, keeping both carefully pieces.
She closed her eyes and reached out. Somewhere between hearing and feeling there it was. Pulsing, it was what gave this plastic/metal/granite tumor a sort of wheezing life. It felt her as as she felt it. Both became screamingly aware of one another. Her head hurt. She helped herself to a large black Turbo ice before seeking its dark heart. She descended to the immaculate basement, stepping over bags of beans and boxes of frozen dough templates.
It seemed to float as if supported by its own improbability. Flowing charts and consumer spending trends made its veins. They were stitched together in a semi-real sinew filled with fleshy chords. All working in an impossible harmony that brought this "idea" to life. Its chambers were lined with red anti-money, lies so powerful you could spend them. It had no mouth to scream, so it shook.
She held up half of the plastic knife. These things could be more easily killed when done with its own phantom materials. Stabbed with its own bones. She kept it still with her left hand and pressed the shard to it. Still it struggled, gently tugging her hand with all its might. She hesitated.
___________________________________________________________________
"I'm not angry, you know?"
She blinked. Snapping out of something.
"Angry at what, Byron?"
She turned around and saw that he had wheeled himself right next to her. Once in a while she caught herself being freshly saddened by her cousin's condition. It had been a while since the fall.
"The riser. The one that hurt me. I'm not mad at it"
She turned around and went back to her graphs.
"Of course you aren't. How could anyone be mad at them?"
"Are you sure you really believe that? You can be mad at anything. It doesn't have to make sense,"
____________________________________________________________________
Asha-le could not not remember when she had that conversation. She could remember it being the last time she really listened to Byron in quite a while. She loved him but he was a burden, her generous salary and benefits not withstanding. Sometimes we forget that the people who need help can help us too. That in all their need and helplessness, they might have something to say.
She focused on the task in her hand, the dark heart of this wild newborn store. She looked at it. She looked at it some more. She stopped looking and felt it beyond skins.
You just want to live
In your own twisted way
She dropped the knife shard. It laid there for a moment before being absorbed into the floor, forever cutting nothing.
____________________________________________________________________
"Welcome to the Rhode Island Border Sanctioned Dunkin Donuts Runoff Distribution Center. How many I direct your Public Domain Naturally Manifesting Food/Beverage Product Allotment?"
"I know I came here before today, but I was hoping I could get an extra biscuit and a Extra Extra 'Great One'"
"I will see what I can do"
Due to the low volume time of day, human services worker A. Gonsulao was able to get an extra free treat after a particularity tough day at work. Dunkin Donuts containment policy had changed after Asha-le's change of heart. The products, equipment, sometimes even the building materials themselves were harvested periodically and given out to the community free of charge. Planned commercial franchises were converted into Subways and Papa Gino's depending on the local sandwich/pizza ratios.
Public hunger dropped drastically. People now had significantly more disposable income to pump back into the economy. The distribution was performed at a controlled pace that allowed it all to grow back, though no one seemed able to witness the event. Despite cameras and many eyes they just seemed to manifest ex nilo the moment anything glanced elsewhere.
Riser policy changed throughout Rhode Island. The rate of new risers decreased drastically by simply leaving most of them be. Some states were a little less progressive with their Dunkin Donuts containment methods and continued with their destruction. This ironically insured that the rate of wild buildings would steadily increase in certain parts of the country while remaining flat it places like Rhode Island.
Asha-le would continue her work, pruning tumors that would occasionally rise in structurally intolerable locations and providing early warnings to all involved. It became very organized and predictable. Asha-le showed America how to properly run on Dunkin and we were all the better for it.
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