I literally cannot get over how goddamn funny his quotes were!
In reference to nothing: "I am nigger."
In reference to anal porn: "She's not even struggling! She's taking it like a champ!"
Goddammit, I cannot stop laughing!
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Jack Did Strangle Danny; Here's the Proof
As it is always a work in process, I have noticed another implication about Stanley Kubrick's The Shining. Now, I watch this film kind of often now; and believe I have an idea for a moment that occurs in the film.
Do you remember when Jack was throwing the tennis ball at the wall and down the hall? From that, we can certainly imply that it is Jack's ball and it belongs to no one else, right?
Now, later in the flick when Danny is playing with his toys on the rugs; the tennis ball comes rolling toward him and Danny gets up and walks down the hall to room 237, which is open.
Now, a few minutes later we find Jack screaming and Wendy finds that Danny has been strangled (not dead, though) and his sweater torn. She then accuses Jack of doing it following his dream of killing her and their son. Now, he goes and talks to Lloyd the bartender and Wendy shows up to tell him a woman in the hotel did it.
Even when he sees the woman in the room, he comes back and tells Wendy that Danny must've done it to himself.
Now, here's where my idea kicks in.
The marks on Danny's neck and his ripped sweater would be too much for a boy his age to do. He simply couldn't, you see? So, with that; Danny is not responsible for self-harm.
Secondly, the notion of ghosts being real are deliberately played down to being all the nature of cabin fever, right? I think even though Jack is going crazy, he is still sane enough to realise the ghosts aren't real and that's why he tells Wendy there was no woman in room 237 even though he saw one. We never see her again, because she wasn't real and Jack knew it.
Going back to the tennis ball, I believe that Jack was waiting in room 237 for Danny, and so he threw the ball toward him to get his attention and once in the room, he tried to strangle him. Waking up from a 'trance' he realised what he did, told Danny to tell Wendy it was a woman, and he went back to the Colorado Lounge to pretty he was asleep.
Just a very rough idea in process, but it seems plausible, right?
Do you remember when Jack was throwing the tennis ball at the wall and down the hall? From that, we can certainly imply that it is Jack's ball and it belongs to no one else, right?
Now, later in the flick when Danny is playing with his toys on the rugs; the tennis ball comes rolling toward him and Danny gets up and walks down the hall to room 237, which is open.
Now, a few minutes later we find Jack screaming and Wendy finds that Danny has been strangled (not dead, though) and his sweater torn. She then accuses Jack of doing it following his dream of killing her and their son. Now, he goes and talks to Lloyd the bartender and Wendy shows up to tell him a woman in the hotel did it.
Even when he sees the woman in the room, he comes back and tells Wendy that Danny must've done it to himself.
Now, here's where my idea kicks in.
The marks on Danny's neck and his ripped sweater would be too much for a boy his age to do. He simply couldn't, you see? So, with that; Danny is not responsible for self-harm.
Secondly, the notion of ghosts being real are deliberately played down to being all the nature of cabin fever, right? I think even though Jack is going crazy, he is still sane enough to realise the ghosts aren't real and that's why he tells Wendy there was no woman in room 237 even though he saw one. We never see her again, because she wasn't real and Jack knew it.
Going back to the tennis ball, I believe that Jack was waiting in room 237 for Danny, and so he threw the ball toward him to get his attention and once in the room, he tried to strangle him. Waking up from a 'trance' he realised what he did, told Danny to tell Wendy it was a woman, and he went back to the Colorado Lounge to pretty he was asleep.
Just a very rough idea in process, but it seems plausible, right?
Holy Shit, There's Actually Still Good Music?
Goddammit, I've found a song from the past few years (2012, specifically) that I not only like a bit, that I actually really love! I was hella surprised, seeing as how most of the shit we see on today's charts are horrid rap music and shitty teen pop. So, what is the glorious song that I enjoy so well?
My fucking Lennon; if this isn't a way to boost the dying sales of folk rock, I don't know what is! Truly, no lies here; this song may find its way onto my list of all-time favourite songs because of how much it stands out, and how well it was executed.
Friday, June 28, 2013
Goddammit, I Really Am a Cynical Asshole...
Let me tell you, when I started this blog; I meant the name and the attitude to be sort of ironic. When I started, I was only mildly cynical and for the most part wanted to make fun of people who get upset and get cynical about things. However, in recent times I've realised that it's no longer an ironic joke; I really am a cynical asshole.
I hadn't thought much about it before, but when I was on my Facebook today; I was scrolling through the homepage and seeing all the new statuses and whatnot, when I realised that as I was seeing statuses and photos of people being happy and having fun; I was building in anger and being pissed.
It's weird, the people I was seeing were friends of mine, around my age and I've known them all my life. I like (most) of them. However, just seeing people having fun really pissed me off. It's odd, I began to realise that even in "fun" situations, I still cannot recall having any true fun.
Like when I was a kid, I was always in a pissy mood during trips, or anything of the sort. Fuck! That was when I was a child! I don't know why I am like this, but I'm actually kind of freaked out about how cynical I've become over my illustrious fifteen years on this planet.
I hadn't thought much about it before, but when I was on my Facebook today; I was scrolling through the homepage and seeing all the new statuses and whatnot, when I realised that as I was seeing statuses and photos of people being happy and having fun; I was building in anger and being pissed.
It's weird, the people I was seeing were friends of mine, around my age and I've known them all my life. I like (most) of them. However, just seeing people having fun really pissed me off. It's odd, I began to realise that even in "fun" situations, I still cannot recall having any true fun.
Like when I was a kid, I was always in a pissy mood during trips, or anything of the sort. Fuck! That was when I was a child! I don't know why I am like this, but I'm actually kind of freaked out about how cynical I've become over my illustrious fifteen years on this planet.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Tonight, I Play the Midnight Game
What's the Midnight Game, you ponder? Well, give me a fucking second and I'll elaborate:
The Midnight Game was originally conceived as punishment for those who doubted and questioned the Pagan religion. Me being a stout atheist, I might as well suffer it too, y'know?
The rules are simple(ish). First, you take a piece of blank paper and write your full name on it. (first, middle and last) Then, you poke your finger and get a drop of blood and smear it next to your name on the piece of paper.
Next, just before 12:00 AM, you place the paper down on the ground in front of your front door, light a candle and place it on top of the paper; knock 22 times on your front (wooden) door making the twenty-second knock exactly at 12.
Then, you open your front door, blow out your candle, and re-light it. You have just invited the midnight man into your home. Equipped with nothing more than your lit candle and a container of salt, you must now wonder around your house in complete darkness until 3:33 AM.
Signs you're close to the Midnight Man are as follows: a sudden change in temperature, or your candle going out mysteriously. If that happens, you must either re-light your candle within ten seconds or stop in place, create a circle of salt where you are, and stay there for the rest of the night.
At 3:33, if you followed the instructions well, will be free of the Midnight Man. But from now on, he will always be watching you.
The Midnight Game was originally conceived as punishment for those who doubted and questioned the Pagan religion. Me being a stout atheist, I might as well suffer it too, y'know?
The rules are simple(ish). First, you take a piece of blank paper and write your full name on it. (first, middle and last) Then, you poke your finger and get a drop of blood and smear it next to your name on the piece of paper.
Next, just before 12:00 AM, you place the paper down on the ground in front of your front door, light a candle and place it on top of the paper; knock 22 times on your front (wooden) door making the twenty-second knock exactly at 12.
Then, you open your front door, blow out your candle, and re-light it. You have just invited the midnight man into your home. Equipped with nothing more than your lit candle and a container of salt, you must now wonder around your house in complete darkness until 3:33 AM.
Signs you're close to the Midnight Man are as follows: a sudden change in temperature, or your candle going out mysteriously. If that happens, you must either re-light your candle within ten seconds or stop in place, create a circle of salt where you are, and stay there for the rest of the night.
At 3:33, if you followed the instructions well, will be free of the Midnight Man. But from now on, he will always be watching you.
Fuck You, I'm Uncircumcised
I don't know why here in the United States that the mutilation of dicks is such a common practice. I'm goddamn happy that my parents didn't let the doctors cut off my manhood! In case you don't know, circumcision is the horrifying act of cutting a newly-born baby's foreskin off!
I feel so bad for everyone who has gotten the unfortunate procedure done to them! How dare they do it at birth; why not let the kid decide, goddammit! It is his cock, you know?
Jesus, shit like this gets me so pissed off.
I feel so bad for everyone who has gotten the unfortunate procedure done to them! How dare they do it at birth; why not let the kid decide, goddammit! It is his cock, you know?
Jesus, shit like this gets me so pissed off.
Bitter Ramblings From an Author with ADHD.
Okay, well, I actually don't have ADHD; or at least I haven't been formally diagnosed. But no matter, because I have a horrid tendency to start something, become encompassed in it completely, then never finish it. Fuck, does this annoy me! If one was to search through my computer long enough, and managed to completely miss all of the fucked up, depraved porn on there, they'd find a stash of plot outlines, character sheets, unfinished books, individual chapters, unfinished screenplays. The whole nine yards, basically.
A part of me is really turned on by the fact that I have so much work to complete before I bite the dust. I mean, think about it: I'm fifteen, so if I have a seemingly-endless collection of work begging to be finished, and I do this all of the time; then I never have to worry about "writer's block". I have an infinite slew of stuff to do! If I ever grow tired of writing a book about an Arabian midget and his struggle to become a woman, well then I have a whole different book about a Chilean man and his love affair with a toaster! I never have to worry about finding new ideas! Yay!
On the flip-side, however...I'll never be able to finish it all! If I keep doing this shit, by the time I pass on, I will have a whole library of unfinished work! Why is this horrible, you wonder? Well, what if I become a well-respected author and the books and screenplays I do manage to finish in my life are critically acclaimed; then all of the sudden I drop dead of a massive heart attack at age 40. Uh-oh, this isn't good. Now twenty years after I pass, two-or-three yuppie assholes are going to try and "complete my work" and they fuck it up worse than I could've ever done. I'd haunt their asses!
Plus, a lot of my work is shit. Really bad shit, I might add. But they have the potential to be brilliant! What if someone stumbles onto my work and they read it and go: "Jesus H. Christ! This fucking sucks!" and then my reputation and/or memories as a good writer are tarnished! Fuck! Most of the shit on my computer will be from my youth. So, of course it'll fucking blow donkey dick! They won't know that, though!
I guess there are pros and cons to the matter, but regardless I just want to begin and finish a project in one fucking sitting, goddammit!
A part of me is really turned on by the fact that I have so much work to complete before I bite the dust. I mean, think about it: I'm fifteen, so if I have a seemingly-endless collection of work begging to be finished, and I do this all of the time; then I never have to worry about "writer's block". I have an infinite slew of stuff to do! If I ever grow tired of writing a book about an Arabian midget and his struggle to become a woman, well then I have a whole different book about a Chilean man and his love affair with a toaster! I never have to worry about finding new ideas! Yay!
On the flip-side, however...I'll never be able to finish it all! If I keep doing this shit, by the time I pass on, I will have a whole library of unfinished work! Why is this horrible, you wonder? Well, what if I become a well-respected author and the books and screenplays I do manage to finish in my life are critically acclaimed; then all of the sudden I drop dead of a massive heart attack at age 40. Uh-oh, this isn't good. Now twenty years after I pass, two-or-three yuppie assholes are going to try and "complete my work" and they fuck it up worse than I could've ever done. I'd haunt their asses!
Plus, a lot of my work is shit. Really bad shit, I might add. But they have the potential to be brilliant! What if someone stumbles onto my work and they read it and go: "Jesus H. Christ! This fucking sucks!" and then my reputation and/or memories as a good writer are tarnished! Fuck! Most of the shit on my computer will be from my youth. So, of course it'll fucking blow donkey dick! They won't know that, though!
I guess there are pros and cons to the matter, but regardless I just want to begin and finish a project in one fucking sitting, goddammit!
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