Back Again!

Next time bury me deeper. Neener neener, kiddies!

Greetings Deadites, and welcome to another edition of The Old Monster’s
Abitoir. Let’s start off with a quick game of “THIS PROVES THAT…”.

1) The majority of birthers and Teabaggers still think Obama is both a nazi and a socialist… how that works is beyond me but there you go.
This proves that:
a. The majority of Birthers and Teabaggers are fucking morons.
b. The majority of Birthers and Teabaggers have an opinion on damn near everything political except for issues they’ve actually read up on…
provided there are any.

2) Kanye West has proven once and for all that he is the biggest douche in the music industry. No mean feat for a midget. Oh I’m sorry, I meant to say “grown-assed little man”. My bad.
This proves that:
a. “Keeping it real” is a hip term for “being a shit-stirring little asshole”.
b. Kanye’s height is inversely proportionate to the amount of shit between his ears.

IN OTHER NEWS:

That is not dead which can eternal lie,
And with strange aeons even death may die.

Back in 2005 an old friend of mine– a VEEEEERY old friend of mine– was featured in a 47 minute silent film produced by the Howard Philip Lovecraft Historical Society. The title of course was CALL OF CTHULHU. If you haven’t seen it, the film is definitely worth a watch.

It’s not a feature release by any means, but a sincere effort by
dedicated beginners who did the work for it’s own sake. It can be ordered at the Society’s Website:

www.cthulhulives.org

For the mere pittance of twenty dollars you can own this masterpiece of retro cinema. Seriously, this film is a work of art. Deliberately done as a silent for a lot of reasons, primarily because the people involved honestly thought it was the only effective way to tell the story. I’m not quite sure I agree with the sentiment but the results speak for themselves. The film demonstrates that a dedicated effort can produce marvelous results, even with a ridiculously small budget.

It’s truly amazing what you can do with model cars, layered photography, model swamp sets and a glitter covered sheet in the right light. See it, you’ll be delighted. And so will the Old One himself. After all… the more folks know of him the more he can reach in his own special way. So go ahead. Heed the call, go mad, and watch the world be consumed. I’ll be fun.

So repeat after me:

“Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn.”

“Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn.”

“Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn”…

Which, for those of you unaccustomed with the old tongue (shameful, truly shameful) means: “In his house at R’lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.”

See you Deadites later.

~OM~

More proof the human race is doomed.

Good whatever-the-sodding-time-is kids, and welcome to another post from your undead pal The Old Monster. This time we’ll address a few little things close to my heart… and my spleen… and my stomach… you get the idea.

First, in literary news a woman named Jordan Scott is suing Stephanie Meyers over elements of her Twilight series, specifically the installment entitled Breaking Dawn, claiming Meyers stole elements of her self-published novel, Nocturne. First, let’s make one thing abundantly clear… neither of these authors, and I use the term loosely, could write their way out of a wet paper bag in my not so humble opinion, but that’s not the point. The fact that Meyers novels have had the same effect upon vampire fiction that AIDS had on the American dating scene is not the point. The fact that Ms. Jordan’s writing is just slightly more mature than a campfire story told by a seven year old is NOT the point. The point is that the Breaking Dawn author is being sued over what amounts to common elements found in many works by a great many authors, most of whom are more talented than plaintiff or defendant in this case. Use of common elements: the same type of monster, the same plot devices, the same motivations… DOES NOT CONSTITUTE PLAGIARISM.

Are we clear, Jordan? Just because 200 different authors at one point or another had a vampire marry a mortal does not mean that they each owe you a nickle. Just because evil demon-baby kills or injures it’s human mother does NOT mean your lawyer should give Poppy Z. Brite a call. Oh wait, Poppy wrote her book first! Pay the woman or face a pointless lawsuit, Jordan. You know, a lawsuit like yours. Sorry, that’s not plagiarism. Elements like this are prevalent throughout the history of genre fiction. They’re used as often as your average stairwell, a hell of a lot. In simple terms, Princess, your derivative work doesn’t merit any of Meyer’s coin just because it was published first. Grow up.

The lesson here?

Frivolous lawsuits are a far bigger bane to the publishing industry than bad writing ever was. You want to make some coin, do it on the merit of your own damn work.

Next, a word about Survivor winner Richard Hatch. I normally don’t give a rat’s tuckus about reality shows except to make fun of them and this really isn’t an exception. Every time this never-was reminds us of his existence mankind regrets it… or should. What kind of schmuck wins a million dollars on national television, doesn’t pay his taxes on the million, lies in court, then when pending release tries to accuse the prosecution of committing a hate crime (Hatch is gay)? An imbecile, that’s who. I suppose it never occurred to the man that not paying taxes on a million dollar prize might raise an eyebrow or two. Hell, even I know better than to mess with the IRS, those fuckers scare me. The stupidity some mortals show used to surprise me, but that was a few thousand years back.

He told the “Today” show that he has been financially devastated by his tax case.

Well thank you Captain Obvious. Here’s a link:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090818/ap_en_tv/us_people_richard_hatch

And some of you wonder if I ever feel guilty about killing people. Get real, I’m not trying to destroy the world, I’m just culling the herd a bit.

For now I’ll leave you with a quote:

“It was so hot today that that thing on Donald Trump’s head is panting!” David Letterman

Later Homeys!

OM

Enough to make Nancy Reagan say…

No… R’lyeah?

Yeah… R’lyeah.

I hear Sarah Palin wants to form her own political party to “take this nation back from the liberals which now control both parties”…

AAAAAAH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!!

Excuse me, little excited there. Sure, why not form batshit-as-all-sodding-getout ultra conservative party? If the party gains any popularity, even in the Klan-belt (more a state of mind than a region, but still… ) then Obama has an easy run in 2012. On the other hand, if I truly wanted to destroy the world I’m sure Bimbo Dearest would do a damn fine job of it. Here are a couple of relevant links:

http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2009/jul/12/palin-stump-conservative-democrats/

http://www.sarahpac.com/news/news51.aspx

Hey, I enjoy a nice pipe-dream as much as the next undead horror, but let’s keep it a bit closer to realm of possibility, shall we? The scary part is that some folks still take this painted morlock seriously. You just can’t fake batshit like this broad. There, I’ve said as much as needs to be said about politics for now. Except maybe to assert that a woman like Sarah Palin belongs in government as much as perfume belongs on a pig.

This Week’s Movie Review, or… Now For Something A Tad Less Idiotic.

Welcome, welcome kiddies. This time out I’m fulfilling a promise to an aquaintance by doing another review of a classic horror film.

This time we review a neat little “Spaghetti-Horror” film titled La cripta e l’incubo (1964). Known in the USA Crypt Of The Vampire and Terror In The Crypt, this neatly woven Italian horror film is a well acted and strongly cast retelling of Sheridan Le Fanu’s Carmilla with a little bit of devil worship thrown in for no logical reason. Don’t get me wrong, I see nothing wrong with Devil worship but it doesn’t really belong in this story.

Despite this minor faux pas this movie is a rarely seen and less appreciated gem from 1964. Christopher Lee, in a rare turn as a good guy, supports as the victim’s (Adriana Ambesi) father. As usual, his performance is spot on. Among the assortment of nicely creepy inhabitants of the castle is the enigmatic Ljuba, played quite well by Ursula Davis. The film is wonderfully atmospheric as many horror films from Italy are. The Italians always excelled there. Anyway, the film delivers in a big way if you’re a fan of the classics as I am. If you’re not a fan of the classics then gods-dammit why the Hell not?!? Get thee some edumacation, boils and ghouls. It does a body good!

If you’d like to look up this gem and perhaps purchase it, the film was recently re-released under the title “Crypt Of The Vampire”. Maybe the extra information will make the movie easier to find.

Crypt of The Vampire (1964)

CAST:
Adriana Ambesi Laura Karnstein (as Audry Amber)
Nela Conjiu Rowena
Christopher Lee Count Ludwig Karnstein
Ursula Davis Ljuba

Directed by:
Camillo Mastrocinque (as Thomas Miller)

Writing credits:
(in alphabetical order)
Ernesto Gastaldi screenplay (as Julian Berry)
Ernesto Gastaldi story (as Julian Berry)
Sheridan Le Fanu novel “Carmilla”
María del Carmen Martínez Román story
José Luis Monter writer
Bruno Valeri writer (as Robert Bohr)
Tonino Valerii screenplay
Tonino Valerii story

And remember, if you want your questions answered or just want your slimy emails posted on this blog, with whatever commentary I see fit to add of course, then send an email to me at:

oldmonster@daverana.com

… and feel free to vent your spleen. If you don’t, then all that stress will make the meat tough… can’t have that now, can we?

Celebrity Deaths

So we’ve had a lot of deaths over the last month. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against dead folks. Hells, no! Some of my best friends are dead. A lot of them aren’t much for conversation mind you, but you expect this from the undead. Hell, a lot of them aren’t much for anything… so I use them for parts.

Oh crap, I’ve gone and let myself get sidetracked again… anyway the deaths I was referring to are of the hollywood kind. Celebrities. Since June 1st we’ve lost David Carradine, Ed MacMahon, Farrah Fawcett, Billy Mays, and of course that (incomprehensibly to my mind) ever so popular pasty white pop star Michael Jackson. The man was more pale than any ghoul I’ve ever known and that was before he kicked the damn bucket. Popularity being what it is, and american taste being determined how it is… and for the record I have no idea what makes Americans like what they like, Michael Jackson is the one among all of them (and many others I haven’t mentioned) who gets all the attention.

After all the specials, news items, blog posts and memorial posts regarding Michael Jackson’s death one thought has managed to remain foremost in my thoughts every time I see a new article on the man:

The saddest thing about Michael Jackson’s death is that so many people don’t know how to spell Michael.

Blood and Stitches everyone!

The Old Monster

AND REMEMBER TO SEND IN THOSE QUESTIONS, ABOUT LOVE, LIFE, CAREER ADVICE, POLITICS, DAMN NEAR ANYTHING. SEND YOUR QUESTIONS TO:

oldmonster@daverana.com

Movie Review: Horror Express

I’ve just been watching an old Hammer film titled Horror Express on a local retro station. Thankfully a movie that old rarely has much to censor by today’s standards, especially a Hammer film. It certainly Isn’t the best film Hammer has to offer, not by a long shot, but I’ll admit I found it more enjoyable than I remembered when I first saw it a few decades ago.

As you’d expect in a horror film of this vintage the science is laughable, but the idea of a mind wipe thorough enough to smooth the ridges of a human brain is interesting to see even if it is a tad comical. The movie also had a lot of funny moments. Telly Savalas showed up as a sadistic no nonsense Cossack officer which is funny enough by itself, well it’s funny if you’re me anyhow, and the scenery chewing doesn’t hurt either. But what exactly is so memorable about the film? The answer can be found in a single line of dialogue:

The scene takes place in a private car (it is a train after all) where two scientists played by Cushing and Lee (but of course) are having a conversation with an inspector regarding the monster who’s been killing passengers. Upon Cushing’s assertion that the monster could be anyone, the inspector supposes that the monster could even be one of the two scientists themselves. Cushing’s response is priceless.

Inspector Mirov: The two of you together. That’s fine. But what if one of you is the monster?
Dr. Wells: Monster? We’re British, you know.

Though panned at it’s release the film has gone on to become a favorite of both Horror Science Fiction fans alike. This movie is definitely good for a quick infusion of nostalgia for you Hammer fans, or maybe for a movie to watch while stoned for those of you who indulge in such things. It’s all good. The Rasputinesque monk is enough for a night’s fun by himself.

cast:

Christopher Lee: Prof. Alex Caxton
Peter Cushing: Dr. Wells
Telly Savalas: Capt. Kazan
Julio Pena: Inspector Mirov
Alberto de Mendoza: FatherPujardov

Just a quick update, because I know you miss me

Another piece of viewer mail in dire from a reader in dire need of my expertise. Gods help her!

Dear Old Monster

Mr Jerrson says that if I don’t get a good grade in Biology I won’t get
into the college I want. And there’s this guy in my class who totally
looks like Edward from Twilight. But stupid Brianna the cheerleader is
always all over him. Science Fair is coming up, and I want to do
something on anatomy. Is there any way I can get rid of Brianna, do
good at Science Fair, and maybe get “Edward” to notice me?

Signed, Failure Is Not An Option

Dear Failure,

Um, why would you be obsessing over a boy who looks like that? Edward
from Twilight? Don’t mind me sweetie, but I just can’t see the appeal of a “vampire” who wears lavender lipstick.

Maybe he’s born with it,

maybe it’s Maybelline?

When it comes to vampires I’ll take Graf Orlock or that dreamy Mr.
Nomack anyday.

As I was about to say before I let myself get sidetracked… again, the
answer should be obvious, even to one so young as you. You need a good grade in Biology, you’re preoccupied with dreamboat (A), and harpy (B) won’t give you any alone time with said dreamboat. Think a moment.

Have you thought of any good ideas for an extra credit project?

No?

Well I have: a dissection. Get it? Dissect Brianna, get an A, or a
life sentence, or both. And you get the boy! Simple.

Reader Mail

Another letter to the Old Monster for your perusal, and it is a dilly! Nothing like throwing a near imponderable to put you into bad case of writer’s block is there? Questions like this one make me sweat frankly so I think I’ll just scratch the surface a bit and hope she can get her research on. Poor kid has one hell of a learning curve ahead of her.

Dear Old Monster,

I have been locked in my parents basement for the last eight years. What should I know about the real world?

Hopefully,
In The Dark And Out Of The Loop

PS: Please help me Old Monster, you’re my only hope!

I’m sorry to have to break this to you, Leia, but if I’m your only hope then I think you’re boned. I’ll have to assume you are somewhere around eighteen for simplicity’s sake as there is no single answer to a question like this. After all, most adults don’t get locked in the basement by their parents, do they? A lot of them should be, but that’s beside the point.

I hardly know where to start. Politically it’s been a hell of an eight years. We’re wrapped up in a war in Iraq that we started over, now get this, a person who didn’t orchestrate an attack the World Trade Center killing thousands, didn’t attack us, didn’t attack our allies, and didn’t have illegal weapons of mass destruction stashed around his country in violation of UN sanctions, and wasn’t hiding Al Quiada operatives in his country. Not when we attacked anyway. Don’t even get me started on who and/or what Al Quaida is… you’ll figure it out soon enough if your Google Fu is strong.

Soooooo– we fragged his country… yeah. Oh, before I forget we also attacked another country and overturned it’s government… sort of. The women still wear Burkas but I hear three men in Kabul have started using toilet paper. Worth every penny of the billions we’ve spent on the invasions, yes?

On the home front we’ve become obsessed with trivial celebrity and shallow attention whoring marketed as reality television. You’ll note that Reality Television is an oximoron. It’s no more real than a cartoon and frankly it barely qualifies as television. This, and its pornographic counterpart the “Girls Gone Wild” videos, allow shows to be made at very low overhead. It’s easy to make a show that doesn’t require plot or storyline (or script writers) and it will likely make a ton of money even if it flops. Television like this almost makes me miss Gilligan’s Island. Almost.

It never took much to achieve celebrity status of course. If you don’t believe me take a look at Paris Hilton. She bought her way into the spotlight regardless of her complete lack of talent, common sense, and a measurable IQ. These things aren’t necessary these days if you start out rich or know who to screw. And before you older folks get on that high horse of yours save it… does the name Zsa Zsa Gabor mean anything to you?

Culturally we aren’t much better off. Wonderful devices such as The cellphone and the PDA and the bastard offspring of both have spared us from the hardships of communicating on the go, personal organization, and literacy; to say nothing of reading comprehension. But you’ll sure look bitchin’ with that Blue tooth headset on behind the wheel of your SUV so no worries, image is everything!

The internet has performed the same purpose of course, but with better graphics and easier input. It seems that the improvements in ease of use of a given bit of technology are inversely proportionate to the decline in most people’s ability to make use of said device. A quick, comprehensive way to frappe’ a human brain in record time. Go Hulu Go!

A few more advancements like these and we won’t need schools. Some fencing around the back forty will keep the sheep contained during class and graduation can be simplified greatly. A quick trip to the kitchen and a sharp blow with a cross-peen hammer and VOILA!.

The Religious Right as a whole and individually is acting the same as it always has: foaming at the mouth, flailing like a drunken hooker in a pig waller at everything that isn’t to their liking. You know, all that post McCarthy bullshit. No change here except a lot of them are managing to get elected to public office. Scary.

If this gives you the impression I’m stalling then you’re half right. More has changed in the last decade or so than can be recounted in a single letter, or for that matter a single book. You have a lot of catching up to do and for this I can only offer my sympathy.

Blood & Stitches,

The Old Monster

Just another Monday

I know it’s been way too long since my last post and I promise to make amends and post more often. Sadly, the last few weeks have been hard on me and as a result I’ve haven’t kept up my torture schedule at all well. For this I offer my humblest apologies and in the future I promise to keep all my victims screaming. Before I read this week’s letter I’d like to remind my readers that any and all questions regardless of type can be sent to:

oldmonster@daverana.com

The questions can be about nearly anything. How to get that boy/girl to notice you, How to get him/her to go away, How to deal with those pesky leftovers (see below), storm the castle, whatever. How to get rid of tea stains, inlaws, anything at all. I live to help. >:p

And now this week’s letter.

Dear Old Monster

It seems like everywhere I go, I trip over a dead hooker. Now, I like dead hookers as much as the next guy, but I think my collection is getting too big for the garage. Trouble is, I hate wasting stuff. I was thinking of maybe making lamps and furniture out of them, but a guy can only have so many chandeliers. Any ideas?

Signed,
Teumany Peltz
420 Slaughterhouse Rd.
Arkham, MA

Oh my my my, aren’t we the busy little sociopath. I find myself tempted to ask why you’re so prolific, but who am I to judge? After all I’m personally responsible for more than my share of landfill stuffing now aren’t I? I do, however, feel the need to ask two questions. You needn’t answer them necessarily, just consider them food for thought.

The first is a simple one. Why hookers? Why do so many handy men such as yourselves target hookers? What did they ever do to you… oh wait, maybe it’s what they wouldn’t do that set you off? I hear that every so often. But hookers are rather low on the scale when it comes to recyclability my friend. Between the abuse, the poverty, and ingesting everything they can wrap their fingers around except food you rarely find much meat on them. I like gnawing on bones as much as the next monster but meat makes the meal my friend. You may want to vary your collection a bit in the future. You know, try something new. I can personally testify that travelling salesman are lovely when sauteed in peanut oil with a little bafat seasoning on low heat. And bankers? Oh, nothing like ‘em. They’re fattening as all hell but you can’t have everything now can you? My personal favorite would have to be missionaries slow roasted with a really good medium heat barbecue sauce, Mmmmmm mmmm…

Oh crap, there I go on another barely relevant tangent. I’d better stop that. Now where was I?

Oh yes, the second question: Why did you wait so long to ask for help, dear boy?

Keeping your activities organized, especially in the disposal of potentially incriminating items such as body parts is essential for the successful connesieur. Haphazard disposal of evidence leads to many an embarassing moment. If you doubt me, try explaining a trashbag full of “discards” to the local authorities. With all due respect you really need to get your act together.

In any event I think I should recommend to you a little book titled 101 Uses For A Dead Cat by Simon Bond and The Cat’s Revenge: 101 Uses For A Dead Human by Philip Lief. The books are chock full of lovely ideas for putting animal flesh (including those pesky house apes) to a productive purpose.

Additionally, might I also recommend a taxidermy course? If nothing else you can sell the work to movie studios. They do appreciate a ready supply of disposable extras. Cheaper than paying someone to stand in the background and they don’t complain. Well, a few of them do but that’s a different sort of taxidermy that you may not be ready for yet… baby steps, you know how it is.

Another thing you can do to dispose of the soft tissue is sell it to a dogfood maker. Meat is so much easier to hide than skin and bone. You just mix it into the hamburger. The skin of course requires a bit more effort to make it less conspicuous. If all else fails you can stitch the hides together and make curtains, right? Do keep me posted on your progress, I can always use an extra contact for meatscraps and the like. The family goes through groceries like a neo-con goes through laxatives.

AND ON TO THE NEXT ISSUE…

This movie review is months overdue, but I hope you can forgive me.

REPO: THE GENETIC OPERA

There really should be more movies like this (but if anyone even thinks of making a sequel I’ll eat their brains raw with a lovely marinara and a side of sauted shitake). This movie is a joyously sadistic stew of Romance, SciFi, horror, comedy, and rock opera. The characters are all played well, even the role of Amber Sweet. You may ask: Who knew Paris Hilton could act? Don’t be shy, everyone asked the same question, and I answer: It’s easy when you play yourself.

Still, it was tons of fun to watch her *cough* lose face.

This movie was released by Twisted Pictures. These are the same lovely humans who brought you such well known family pictures as the SAW series and Catacombs. Hey, if they’re good enough for my family they’re good enough for yours. It was directed by Darren Lynn Bousman and written by Terrance Zdunich and Darrin Smith, both of whom appear in the movie. Zdunich plays the graverobber with a Faginesque grace that makes this ghoulish character seem almost fatherly. Smith’s role is significantly smaller and played behind a mask. But hey, someone has to lead the band, right? And the music is to die for. Oh stop worrying, I died and you don’t see it affecting my night life do you. This movie is far better seen than described, so get the DVD and see it.

THE CAST:

Alexa Vega … Shilo Wallace

Paul Sorvino … Rotti Largo

Anthony Head … Nathan / Repo Man

Sarah Brightman … Blind Mag

Paris Hilton … Amber Sweet

Bill Moseley … Luigi Largo

Nivek Ogre … Pavi Largo (as Ogre)

Terrance Zdunich … Graverobber

Sarah Power … Marni

Darren Smith … Geneco’s Band Leader

Party Cuisine and a little advice

Hieronymous gets such a kick out of throwing those parties of his. Though he really should be more careful about the cuisine he serves. Refrigerated stiffs from the morgue are all well and good for a ghoul, but even the Jethros of the Undead Smart Set like a warm meal now and again. Perhaps Hie could just chain a used car salesman to a stake on the terrace. You know, make them work a bit to whet the old appetite.

I generally prefer mine warm, conscious, and running but I realize that nothing upsets a tea party for the high and mighties faster than a mismanaged greased-pig catching contest. Don’t let Hieronymous fool you though, though there aren’t many ways to cut corners when feeding his vampire friends you can always save a few bucks feeding ghouls and the hired help. I heard once that he served an embalmed corpse to the kitchen staff. Of course there is always the chance the ghoul was mistaken, their judgement is often questionable after all. It could have been enbalming fluid, or the man might have been Pentacostal. The end result is just as foul regardless.

Anyway, I recieved a really good question from a reader who wants to prepare an extra special batch of cookies for an upcoming birthday party:

Dear Old Monster

What is the best percentage of child-to-flour when making gingerbread cookies? I have the redheads all lined up, but now I don’t know what parts to use. Damned gingers.

Warmest regards,

Natenuff Blutengutz (Culinary student, University of Vasaria )

Well, Herr Blutengutz, gingerbread cookies require a somewhat softer touch than an enterprising maneater like yourself might guess. Ginger, as you know is a potent ingredient in nearly any recipe and as such is quite easy to abuse. We don’t want that now do we? And please note that the best parts of the ginger kid for seasoning purposes are the heart, liver and sweetbreads. chop, dry, grind to a fine powder and seal in an airtight container. Mason jars are your friend. For Gingerkid cookies, I suggest a one to four parts ratio gingerkid to a good whole wheat flour, don’t use white flour. If you use too much gingerkid you can always cut it with a little Brown sugar, or tomato in a vegetable dish or stew. Extract of Mormon will neutralize excess gingerkid with a quickness. Hell Mormon is so bland it could suck the ditzy out of a Scientologist.

I hope this helps you Herr Blutengutz, if not just say so and maybe I can dig up a few nifty recipes out of the old lab.

Wormiest Regards,

The Old Monster

One final thing before we wrap this up. If you have a question for The Old Monster, or if you want to suggest a subject for my next post, write me at oldmonster@daverana.com

Long Time, No Shriek

Greetings and Salutations Mutants! I would have posted earlier but I’ve been busy cleaning up after the holidays and organizing the lab. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to remove that much body fat from a drainpipe, and while we’re on the subject of body fat it might be nice if some of you would take it easy on the Twinkies will you, sheesh!

So how are all of you? Eat any good people over the holidays? We didn’t do much around here for New Year’s, just kept an eye out for the few drunks or salesmen that were stupid enough to be lost in our neighborhood. When the town fathers say they don’t appreciate vagrants they aren’t kidding. That reminds me; I really need to thank the sheriff for that visit last night. I was short some necessary, um… parts.

So, that out of the way we can stop sweating the supplies and get back to work. One of your fellow readers sent me two questions that I’d like to address. The first question is: What would you most like to see happen in 2009?

I honestly don’t know for sure what I’d want to see specifically for 2009, I just have a few vague ideas:

I’d like to see a drastic deconstruction of the Patriot Act of course, that goes without saying. There is just so much wrong and unnecessary about that festering gob of legislative effluent that I’d rather not bore you all with the details, but do I look like the type of creature that likes being watched? Not to mention the possible lawsuits if someone listening in on one of my calls has a coronary. I swear you humans have no stomach at all for science. Hell, the last time I called that farmer in the Ozarks I thought I’d have the CDC on me. I wouldn’t mind the partial or preferably the total dismantling of the Dept. of Homeland Security, but we know that money pit of a spook show is here for the duration. Washington loves it’s cash cows. Another thing I’d like to see is a nice, legal hunting season (or at least a single, special open season) on some of life’s more noisome creatures; the ones that are truly a pox on the peoples of the world, human and otherwise… like investment bankers and televangelists.

The next question is:
What do you think is going to happen on 21 December, 2012?

My personal feeling on the matter, along with a heartfelt apology to conspiracy fans in my readership, is that I don’t believe anything is going to happen. The Mayans, if most bonafide research is to be taken at face value, never said the world would end when The Long Count ended. In fact, they never said anything at all. It just so happens that the calender reaches the end of its cycle. The calender itself is identical in function to the other Mayan calenders (different calenders for different purposes) and it should be obvious to even the untrained eye that as the others begin a new cycle after the count resets than so should the Long Count. Conspiracy fans believe the cycle reset signals the end of the world simply because the calendar itself covers such a long a period of time.

They assume the Mayans intended the calender to encompass the entire span of human existence when this is never stated or implied. So sadly I have to conclude that no, those skulls aren’t going to save the world, they’re not going to get the Greys to pick some other planet to use as a tennis ball, and they won’t save you big bucks at your next tax audit. They just won’t.

Part of me wants to slap a bitch on the hand for using a recycled apocalypse theory, but then I remember that all of them are recycled. Don’t think so? Think about this: from a very basic POV, this doomsday scenario is identical to Y2K where it really counts. The clock winds down with a buttload of fanfare and when it reaches the reset point… POW, RIGHT IN THE SOCIETAL NUTSACK! Yep, sounds like a rerun to me. I don’t think I’ve seen an original doomsday scenario in at least three millenia. To review, the Mayans made no obvious allusion to an apocalypse at the end of the Long Count (or as a friend referred to it: the Alpaca Lips. *G*) at all. As far as I can see, they just didn’t plot the next cycle.

The beginning of the new cycle would have been almost a thousand years in the future from even the time of the last major Mayan settlement. Would you have bothered?

But I’d like to assure all the little paranoids, conspiracy fans, mutants, and of course the few sane readers I have that just because I think nothing will happen doesn’t mean I don’t want it to happen. Are you kidding me? I could really use a good apocalypse myself. Hell, Pompeii was a blast, or a blast furnace at the very least… sorry about that horrid little pun, I got all excited there for a moment. That kind of talk gets me moist, no mean feat when you’re dry as dust on most days. Let’s just say that I really enjoy the panic, paranoia and bloodshed that occurs before a predicted disaster and on those oh so rare
occasions that said disaster actually occurs I can usually look forward to lots of fun in the weeks, months, years, whatever that follow it. You say dark age… I say amusement park. It’s all semantics.

So long for now, and remember ladies: The fastest way to a man’s heart is through his ribcage. I recommend using a good broad axe.