Saturday, June 19, 2010

101 Reasons Not To Watch This Movie?

In your lifetime, you'll discover a film about something so intriguing that it'll call your attention, only to discover that it,
unfortunately, suffers from many unnecessary issues; whether they be technical (like poor sound/image quality) or philosophical (the point behind the film, is it fully addressed?). There's a great, American documentary in this film. However, it suffers from so many issues that it will either turn you away or leave you wondering if what you just witnessed was completely uninspired.

The latter issue isn't warranted, because it is inspired. It's inspired by the brutality and seemingly idiotic nature of Professional Wrestling. A world often misunderstood and ridiculed. The mere idea that one would go out of their way to damage their bodies in a non- competitive arena for little to no pay, all in the pursuit of glory, is enough of a reason to witness any film on the subject. Its history and prevalence in society, how it reflects social norms and taboos, and the hierarchy and culture within that world are all subjects worthy of their own, independently made films. With 101 Reasons Not To Be a Pro Wrestler, your expectations are high. The director, Michael Moody, is one of the rare individuals "outside" of the professional wrestling world who has the ability to infiltrate and relay details of the secrets of that world; ignoring the obvious clichés ("It's FAKE!"). Unfortunately, he stumbles where he should triumph. A veritable, self-inflicted wound, not unlike the bumps that many of his subjects take on a regular basis (without the artistry and finesse of said performers).

The main issue with the film is its structure. There's a structure, but it's loose and often meanders. At times, the interviewer (Moody) asks the same question, or a similar one, from a few scenes earlier, completely negating the flow and evolution of the story. Some interview sections run too long, which could have benefited from some simple, solid, good editing. It almost seems like Moody wants to keep going back to the same topics/problems of the world of professional wrestling, like a friend who is supposedly "over" some indiscretions of the past, only to continuously bring them up years later. He wants to keep exploring these questions without limiting them into one area of the film. On the one hand, it's an admirable trait, seeing as though so
much can go unexplored by limiting your content. Yet, on the other hand, it's often the same thing; never adding anything new to the conversation. Thus, it's redundant and it ends up weighing the film down.

The technical issues run rampant, as well. I suppose he shot this film on his own, which, again, is noble. However, you really have to have a good idea of what you want (with talent to back it up) to pull off a successful solo mission, and this doesn't reflect that. He could have benefited from some serious help, like a small crew or even just a boom operator. His questions are hard to hear and he often fumbles on his words, indicating an unpreparedness and slight nervousness. That may not be his fault, but if he knew what he was getting into, then he could have been more poised and articulate. The image quality is inconsistent, with lighting being a major factor in it. It was probably difficult to fix the lighting issues in areas like bars and parking lots, but if you're making a film, why not pull all the stops?

Now, those are big issues and they devalue the film, but there is a potentially great film within. Moments of the film really pull you back in, and the "cinema verité-like" technique utilized in those moments are exceptionally interesting. In one scene, professional wrestlers New Jack and Vampiro, alongside members of the Insane Clown Posse, are filming a commercial. They have to set up a spot where Vampiro will power-bomb New Jack onto the back of a fake wood fence and onto a picnic table. Vampiro begins to fumble while trying to lift New Jack, and he enlists the help of various set members. It's a great scene in that it harshly jux-ta-poses the ability of the professional wrestler from what you see on television. On TV, the power-bomb is seamlessly executed. In this spot, it requires the help of 4 extra hands, then 8, then 12 and so on. It's a painful reminder that "being at your peak" is a relatively short-lived part of ones life, and that is considerably true in the world of professional wrestling. However, that scene is ruined by the interview that comes after, in which Vampiro explains that his leg, which was previously broken, couldn't sustain New Jack's weight. The beauty of the scene was what you were witnessing, and to evaluate it later only tarnishes it.

Another seemingly great scene is where Joanie Laurer, better remembered as Chyna, is celebrating with a few friends out on the parking lot. The sadness and naive, but pained joy of these characters are fully expressed in their actions. However, it, too, is tarnished by Moody interjecting and asking interview questions. Maybe that scene is also indicative of Moody's involvement with these people. I mean, he's there; he's the one who's holding a camera. But it doesn't illicit anything important or intriguing. Rather, it comes off as unnecessary and annoying.

However, the true great moment of this film is the scene in which New Jack and an unidentified (and painfully old) wrestler grapple in-ring. The lighting: harsh. The crowd: small but rowdy. The security: pathetic. The moves: stilted. The immediate exhaustion: prevalent. It has the makings of something reminiscent from the Maysles Brothers. It's beautiful in its painful exhibition of days gone by. The lonely and almost disgusting nature of it almost clues you in to what these people (both the crowd and the wrestlers) might be thinking on an average day, "Why keep going on?" It's such a masterful scene that I wish Moody had the insight and audacity to shape his entire film off of such moments. I'm glad it's the only one, however, as it serves to be the main attraction of this film and helps elucidate the message embedded in the title of the film, 101 Reasons Not To Be a Pro Wrestler.

There are other nice moments scattered throughout the film, like a small backstage segment and a trainer tending to a wrestler's (Rikishi) sprained ankle. But they're few and far in between. The greatest moment is the aforementioned match.

What Moody could have learned from this experience (and maybe from some training in film, although that's not entirely necessary or even warranted) is that his best moments are the moments when he's not speaking; when he's letting the camera point to what he's witnessing and allowing it to exist on its own merits. This isn't to say that the interview sections aren't important, or that we shouldn't hear him ask questions, but they didn't have to be the entire film. And if they were better executed (especially the sound), that they would have brought this film to an apex of sorts. I guess it's a trait of many "shoots," where wrestlers are interviewed on various topics (with no edits, whatsoever). They usually don't regard technical issues seriously and quality is not an issue. There's definitely something admirable about it, in which the harsh reality of the overall situation is emphasized. However, in a documentary film, it doesn't really serve to aid the film. There would have had to have been some form of artful rendering of such a nuance, but it's just not there.

101 Reasons Not To Be a Pro Wrestler is an interesting film, and it could have been a great film, but it falls flat almost entirely, if it were not for a few select scenes. I'd recommend this only to die-hard wrestling fanatics who vehemently support so-called shoot videos. But for cinephiles, it might not be worth it.

Friday, January 29, 2010

DAY 2: REVIEW 2: Action Packed: The Best of Jonathan Richman

A lot has been said about Jonathan Richman, from all the praises in the world to all the criticisms one can dish at the guy. Whether or not they're well-deserved is another issue, altogether. Personally? I don't know the guy, what he's like, but musically, he's pretty proficient, that's for sure.

I know that's too "neutral" for a review, and you'd probably like it if I used some sort of scathing adjective, but I'm not gonna. I just don't know that much about his personality. If anything, he reminds me of a friend of mine, who one day loves a certain "type" of music and will play it incessantly, only to change his mind a week or two later and head down a new path. Sure, it's a little erratic, but some of the greatest minds were, and if Richman isn't a great musical mind, then, what else could he be?

Richman left his original Modern Lovers in the dust, proclaiming he hated that kind of music and that he wanted to return to a more earthy, older sound, like Doo Wop or 50's Rock 'n Roll. His intentions were unknown to anyone but himself, but hey, is that really that important? He touched a natural nerve, and he really came into place with that sound.

This album is a collection; a greatest hits. I must confess that I don't own any of his true albums, aside from his stuff from the Modern Lovers, but that's mostly because I'm not such a big fan of his Doo Wop sound. I like Doo Wop, and I like this greatest hits album, but I'm not crazy about it. I just won't invest much more than I already have, basically.

As far this album goes: it's pretty nice. Catchy, heartfelt, soulful, simple, pretty, fun, sincere. I could go on, but it wouldn't be anything new from what could be said, already. He taps into that old-school, carefree world of a teenager whose biggest gripes are girls, love and rocking out. However, he openly talks about his wife and his married life within the context of a lovelorn teenager. It's that sort of small complexity that really gains depth and a sense of sincerity that only Richman can deliver.

Songs like "Closer" and "Everyday Clothes" put his concept into perspective. In "Closer," he talks about how he gets all tingly and mushy when he rubs up against his wife in bed. Spooning? Perhaps, but there's something so innocent about his emotional state that it diminishes the amount of dirtiness involved. Of course, that dirt is there. It wouldn't be Jonathan Richman without it. But the simple fact that he twists it into this adolescent fantasy really changes the shape of things. "Reno," a song about, you guessed it, partying it up in Reno, brings that out to a tee.

It starts to get grittier, however, by the "You're Crazy For Taking the Bus," in which he talks about traveling with outcasts and vile rednecks while heading to Salt Lake City. Yet, he's down for the ride, without any concern about those folks.

"The Neighbors," about a possible cheating Jonathan Richman (in the eyes of the community) is another mature song, that begins to transcend the fine line of well-intended innocence and his struggle dealing with the accusations of fellow adults. He must know that he's playing a dangerous card by flaunting a close, but platonic friendship with an attractive woman, but he understands the possible scandal, involved. See what I'm talking about? This shit is pretty dramatic, but he keeps that immature drawl and carelessness that comes with that territory. He's like the guy who's still a kid, with a nerdy sense of humor that almost everyone loves, except for his girl.

I could delve into each song, but it would be overkill. This album jumps back and forth between the much-maligned mature side of Jonathan Richman, and his beloved teenager inner self. The positioning of the tracks, hopefully, is meant to showcase that inner struggle, because they really leap from one to the other. It puts you inside his head, and although he hates being an adult, somewhat ("When I say Wife/ It sounds like a mortgage," in "When I Say Wife"), he can't help but love the fact that he's on his own, doing his own thing. It's nothing inspirational, but it's fun. You'd hang out with him, you'd be rockin', you'd be drinking cappuccino and you'd be partying in the U.S.A.

This album is pretty much an: A.

Monday, January 4, 2010


Okay, so apparently, magazines sometimes gave away rare and limited editions of vinyl LPs along with a particular issue of the magazine, itself. Sounds totally rad and, of course, painfully hard to obtain, right? Yes, both are absolutely true.

In this case, I came across this by accident. Illegally downloaded? Yes, and I'm not ashamed to admit that. I was originally looking for some stuff by an old band by the name of, Magazine. While I browsed the results of my search, I came across something that seemed peculiar, and in the interest of a good mystery, decided to download it. It turned out to be a super-rare compilation album that was released by the label, Sweatbox, along with a magazine entitled, Abstract Magazine Nº5. The LP contains 11 tracks (10 listed, 1 hidden) of underground music from the mid-to-late '80s, although two sources claim the LP and magazine, themselves, were released either in the Spring of 1995 or the Spring of 1985. Either way, it adds to the allure of its obscurity.

The first track of the album is by the band, Test Dept., with the track, Fuel Foundation of The Nation. It begins with a long speech by what seems to be a Scottish man who is a bit enraged by the youth of the day. It's a rather long intro to the actual song, which is a traditional bagpipe marching song. It, like any bagpipe music, elicits the feeling of a bittersweet, victorious sentiment. It also has a sort of "funeral-esque" element to it, which the drone of the bagpipes definitely helps to elevate. In many ways, it's a proper opening to this particular album. I'm going to assume, since most of the bands are from England, this is an English release, and thus the opening track really adds more depth to the coming experience.

This is followed by, Fire Eater (remix), by the band, The Wolfgang Press. This particular track is more of a minimalist, experimental piece. It's heavily drenched in percussive instruments with a bold, plucky bass to add an accent, along with a few moments of quiet noise splashed throughout. The vocals are quiet and submerged, which adds to the image that's being portrayed by the lyrics, "Who's out there/In the murky water." Midway through the song, an electric organ and what appears to be synthesized brass instrument appear, really pulling in a new dimension to the song. Seriously, this track is really impressive for its time. I mean, it sort of sounds like the Liars à la Drums Not Dead. By the end of the track, the noise begins to really pick up and a vibraphone quietly makes its way into the track before ending abruptly, which is reminiscent of the last gulp of life from the throat of a drowning victim (not that I know what that's like, though). A great track, indeed.

Next is the song, Fire and Water, by a band called, 400 Blows (Truffaut, anyone?). This is a much more experimental piece, laden in the clanks of large, metallic objects, the haunting repetitions of a ghostly woman, static and a pulsating, melodic heartbeat of a synth. It's really an eerie piece of music, following the water theme that was begun by the track before it. I feel like I'm in a cabin on a very rainy day in some remote part of a marsh while noises constantly echo through the woods, ensuring my insomnia to remain. I sense an early, but perhaps unknown, abstract noise pioneer in this band.

Up on the block is the song, Sealed in Skin, by Swans. They're actually a really influential American band, which helped progress the noise and post-punk movements; in other words, No Wave. This particular track is much harsher than the last two, with an emphasis on a repetitive piano stab and the heavy beats of the snare and tom, accented with a wrenching guitar. This sort of puts me on a slave ship or something, rowing away while the row master keeps time with his dreaded drums. Along with the instrumentation, the song is accompanied with vocals that resemble the throat singing of groups like Huun Huur Tu, although the song is far more creepy than anything I've heard from those guys. It gives off a sense of helplessness and discomfort that I could only imagine the experience of being sealed in skin would be like. Wait, aren't we all? Fuck it, I'm getting creeped out.

Up next is the song, Playtime, by the band, Cindytalk. This time, I don't think they were basing it on a French director, Tati. No, this track is far too unsettling to remind anyone of that pleasant romp. The song fades in with the droning of a bevy of noises, almost like smoke slowly rising from an unearthly, evil source. Added to that are the minimal drops of a wooden block, the crazed, sad shrieks of a wailing saxophone and, of course, a wrenching guitar. Underneath the noise, but over the sax, are the mumblings of a man and woman, who do not appear to be in a conversation, but rather tossing sentences at each other in a whisper. Schizophrenia seems to have taken center stage on this comp, so far.

The next track would have been, Manic (Remix), by Colourbox, but I don't seem to have it. I've searched, but it's not coming up. Therefore, I'll skip it until I can find it, and then I'll edit this review to include it in the future.

Following that track is Gene Loves Jezebel, with the song, Flame. Now, this song is a definite change of pace for the compilation, in that it's much more of a pop track than the experimental creepiness of the earlier tracks. It's a goth-dance-rock sort of track, and it doesn't skimp on the catchiness. It starts off with the stomping, driving beat of the drums along with a twangy guitar and a driving bass that really pulls you into it, immediately. And, they don't sound like The Cure! I love The Cure, but way too many bands sound almost like them, and this band does not. In fact, I have more of their stuff which will show up in future reviews. As far as this particular song goes, it's really well constructed and enthralling. It has elements of funk, bubblegum pop, soul, new wave, dance-punk, you know, generally good music from the 80s underground. The main guitar riff sort of has a jangly sound that's reminiscent of a harpsichord, which adds a layer of uncertainty and mystery to the track. Overall, probably the best track on the album.

Next is the song Maps In Her Wrists and Arms, by, And Also The Trees. It has a "quiet-loud-quiet" thing that a lot of modern post-rock and emotional indie rock utilizes, and it's not really a remarkable track, by any means. But it's thoroughly enjoyable, especially the chorus, which hits hard and heavy. Of course, it's going for the whole "mysterious/dark" thing that a lot of 80s bands at the time strived for, but so what? That shit rules. The band name is also pretty cool, although I would have thought it to be some noise-folk band from today under difference circumstances.

Following that track is, This Is The Place, by a band called, Nyam Nyam. This song is really well crafted. It's got the sort of emotion and power that really could have been a major hit, especially with the relatable lyrics of a relationship gone sour. Of course, the band was hit by the dreaded obscurity threatening any band that doesn't escape the throes of musics cemetery of indifference. The song is pulled in with a quiet, shimmering intro which drops us into a blast of jangly guitars, a breathing bass, a competent drum pattern and the obviously heart-wrenching lyrics on display, especially when the singer proclaims at the end, "I'm not sad, at all." You know, the sort of thing that you say to lie to yourself about how you really feel about that wretched, heartbreaking, bitc... Uhh, err, you know. A fantastic track, if sadly, an unrecognized one.

The Jazz Butcher follows it up with the song, Leaving It Up. This track is pretty rad. It showcases its influences pretty readily, in bands like Richard Hell and The Voidoids and The Fall. The swaying guitar really adds a nice touch to the song, and the vocalist really emotes, a bit like Robert Smith or Ian Curtis, but you know, can't blame them for that. Admittedly, the song could probably be a minute shorter, but it really keeps you up with the catchy chorus. I especially like the line, "We'll be safe like Sharon Tate/Get it on!/Get it on!" It's got the snarky, snarly confidence and the dark, brooding atmosphere that works with the other tracks, and that we all know and love.

Finally, the hidden track, Sentiment, by The Nursery. This is a return to form from the first few tracks, in that it's heavily percussive with the vocals drowned out. The difference is that the guitar drives the track forward along the percussion, with a high-pitched drone in the background. It's actually not that interesting of a song, but it really helps bring the album together, at the end, because it represents the pop-stylings of the later tracks and the noise-oriented atmosphere of the earlier tracks. A fitting end to a great compilation.

All in all, this compilation really helped me discover some new bands that I've never heard of, and allowed me to witness the possible influences of today's music in full. It's a great find, if a really rare one, and if I could ever get my hands on an actual copy, you know I'd definitely jump to the opportunity. I'd really recommend this if you're into goth rock or any form of underground music from the 1980s, especially the stuff coming out of places like England or New York City, at the time. It's a dark and brooding experience, but in the end, you'll feel slightly lifted.

Ch-ch-ch-check it out.


Sunday, January 3, 2010


I've decided that, for a while, I'm going to change things up here for a bit. I'm going to begin doing something that will take a very long time to complete, and it'll definitely be a courageous, trying at times, expedition.

Take a breath. Hold it. Hold it. Hold it. Just one more second. And... Let it go.

I will listen to every album on my itunes and then report what I thought of the album. I may even make a video to go with each post.


That's how long it'll take me to listen to everything, apparently.

See, I've realized two important things:

1.) I have a ton of music that I hardly listen to, if ever. What's the point of having all of that music if I'm just going to forget about it? I keep rediscovering stuff I had forgotten about, and stuff that I don't even remember obtaining. I could either delete the files or actually, you know, listen to them.

2.) I also feel that I've been listening to the same shit a lot, recently. Most of the time, I'll put my itunes on shuffle, but it always seems like it plays a lot of the same stuff. So, this will force me to listen to new stuff, and that's pretty rad.

Okay, so I'll begin tomorrow, and it'll be a fantastic voyage into the recesses of my musical interests. It'll be fascinating, confusing and all around fucking dope.

I hope you enjoy it and even check out tunes that you may have never heard. You know, really good music. There, I said it.

Saturday, November 14, 2009


Over the years since college, I've realized quite a bit about myself. One thing is that I'm a total sucker for romance, and when it rears its beautiful head into my life, I'm hit quite instantly. What I never understood, however, is that, even with all of my energy put into rediscovering romance, I'm always at the mercy of quick hook-ups and flings. Maybe girls see a short-term lovin' in me, maybe they just see a good time. I've got no problem with that, as it has given me some of my greatest memories and most fun moments of my life.

When a relationship actually starts, though, everything changes, instantly. I no longer become the "partier, let's hook up" guy, but rather, the, "let's stay in, I love you," kind of guy. It's a transformation I'm willing to make, only because I love that feeling and I love being with someone I can feel that way about. But for some reason, it always ends either negatively or just sort of fizzles out. Part of the problem has to be that I'm very attracted to "crazy" girls, but that's something that I've since decided to consciously avoid. Insecurity hits me just like it does anyone, and it can lead to jealousy, which is occasional but unpleasant for me (and the girl, I'm sure, whether or not there's something funny going on, it just sucks all around).

However, actually coming across someone that really fits all the parameters of what you're looking for is a rare feat, and to leave it be is, ultimately, undesirable. You have to go for it, you have to act fast, because it'll vanish as quickly as tiny drops of water on a heating pan.

Meeting that girl is incredible. She'll only take a few seconds to remind you as to why life is so amazing, and those early moments of a budding relationship, especially, brings out the best in everyone. From reading this, you'd be quick to judge me a very happy man, but you'd also question my choice for a title. Well, I'm not happy. I'm depressed, not viciously (thank goodness), but depressed, none the less.

When something that incredible fizzles out, you want to know why, and yes, that's what happened. After only a very brief amazingness, it was over. No phone calls, no returned texts, nothing. When you contact someone and their responses are brief and end quickly, even if you're encouraging the conversation to continue, it's never a good thing. I'm not sure as to why this occurred, and, even though I feel like I deserve to know, I kind of don't want to. I'm not heartbroken, because that would have required the relationship to last longer than it did, but I'm close to it.

Ironically, this state of emotional distress has lead to me breaking out of a creative slump and getting back on track with my music. Unfortunately, it's back to somewhat sad and cryptic lyrics, which wouldn't be so bad if they didn't always remind me of "the bad times."

About her. Amazing. Beautiful, intelligent, compassionate, an amazing taste in music, fashion and art. I didn't even care that she was religious because, let's face it, that never stops someone from being so rad if they're already rad, to begin with. If she's reading this, well, you're really amazing and I felt a spark light up quicker than I've ever experienced, and going to that show with you WAS incredible, even if we got stuck at Grand Central waiting for the morning train.

But, as it is and as it always will be (hopefully not, but probably so), it'll remain just another life experience that I'll look back on, fondly and sadly. At least I'll remember the brief but incredible moment when I met "that girl."

Here's a rather nice painting that sort of exemplifies my emotions:

Till next time.

Friday, January 30, 2009

Okay, Time For a New Rant!

All right, so I'm going to just jump into it. Ghosts. Hauntings. Paranormal Activity. The Metaphysical. Why are all of those things considered so real? I mean, just flip through your television for a little while and you're bound to fall onto some program about one, if not all, of those things. Sure, I used to watch those shows, and much like everyone else, I used to believe in ghosts. Or at least found them interesting. But then I began to realize: How could I not believe in a god but still believe that there might be paranormal activity out there? Or better yet, how was I so ignorant of the truth? Well, the truth is, there aren't any ghosts, there isn't anything paranormal about the world and metaphysics can kiss my ass.

I mean, let's face it, I used to try to goad my friends into accompanying me to an abandoned building or a reportedly haunted village to see if we saw anything. Of course, I still enjoy going into abandoned buildings for the sheer thrill of it and for the simple fact that it interests me that a large construct to house people/inmates/businessmen and women/whatever is now an empty relic, frozen in time (until they demolish it, of course.) But for ghosts? No. I'm sorry, but anyone who believes in that crap should have their brains examined, which leads me back to my point.

Television shows about ghosts and the paranormal seem to be everywhere, and they also seem to be on what used to be reputable channels like The Discovery Channel, The History Channel, The Science Channel, National Geographic, and so on. Yet, they produce these shows as if they were fact. As if they actually happened, and the people who are usually interviewed, are interviewed as if they're reporting something that actually occurred! And anyone who's watching takes it all in, believing it to be a harrowing and frightful tale, only to end in happiness for the afflicted family. What's worse is that most of the time, they show some sort of exorcism or resorting to a christian service to help get rid of the hauntings. Let's take a look as to why all of those things are so wrong and so stupid.


Shows like these are about normal people who were haunted at some point in their lives. They're usually middle-class, run-of-the-mill families with very boring lives and very uninteresting jobs. Yet, all of a sudden, they're being haunted! Now life has some spice to it! Please... I couldn't possibly be the only person to see how obvious it is that they need attention, or, at the very least, something interesting going on. Those types of shows are usually catered to people who will believe anything, because they never need to prove it ever happened. They just have to say that it did, and because there are normal people like them telling them that it occurred, then it must have! I mean, why would normal people lie? What could they gain? Well, let's see... CASH. COLD HARD CASH. I mean, come on, they're getting paid money to tell their stories to people to put on an interesting show! Anyone with any common sense would be able to figure that one out! And, no, it doesn't matter if their faces are blacked out, they still get paid. In fact, ever consider that these people are actors? They say that these stories are true, but does anyone ever look them up? I have, and one episode in particular came out as being "verifiable." I say that because it had been reported before the show came to them. However, this "haunting," (A Haunting in Connecticut) seems to be the catalyst for money for the Matriarch of the family. She now runs a website where she sells items and speaking tours about the "haunting!" Oooo, spooky. It's things like these that make me ashamed that no one is able to see through her scam, or any purported haunting scam, and yes, I do feel that they're all scams.


These types of shows, and many others, are about famous/notable places that are considered "haunted." Many people will believe that these places are haunted because they are usually either:
A.) Old/ancient
B.) Sites of Horrific Crimes/murders/Satanic rituals/whatever
C.) Built on top of an ancient burial ground of some sort
D.) Because they were told it's haunted

The problem with these shows is that they're about places that regularly take in visitors and tourists. Now, since there are so many places in the U.S. and the world that would love for more people to visit and/or tour, it's not hard to imagine that some of those places aren't seeing that much an increase in revenue. So, a proper plan would be to create some sort of interesting hype about a place to stir up some more revenue, and what's better than a good ghost story to rake in the tourists! Okay, yes, some places bring it upon themselves just by being the places they are (i.e. The Catacombs in Italy, The Lizzy Borden House, etc), but still, you'd be a fool not to acknowledge how much money someone could make just by saying, "MY HOUSE IS HAUNTED, COME CHECK IT OUT!!" Ignorance can be a gold mine.


Finally, it's these types of programs. Programs that purport to show the "science" behind investigating the paranormal. This is probably the most egregious type of program for the simple reason that it attempts to justify its claims by misrepresenting science. Using the most "state-of-the-art ghost huntin' technology this side of the Mississippi" (not actual quote), they go to supposedly haunted places in order to confront these spirits. Now, whether they resort to using christianity or not is not necessarily the problem, though it's still as embarrassing as anything else they could pull out of their asses. What pisses me off the most, however, is how they "use" science in order to prove their fantasy. First of all, any area of any home, building, room, even closet fluctuates in temperature. Yet, this fluctuation is usually credited to some ghostly being or energy. Come on, it's so simple! Air changes temperature often, especially in rooms that aren't adequately heated. Then they use devices to chart the change in electromagnetic activity. Any signal picked up by any such instrument could come from a myriad of REAL sources, such as radios, televisions, even light bulbs! Yet, why not assume it's from some spirit from the beyond? I mean, it's much more exciting, right? RIGHT?? Well, perhaps, but it's disingenuous, whether the perpetrators of the lies know or not (I'd like to think they do, just to give them a little more credit than they deserve). And, after all that, there are the spirit orbs. They're usually fake (photoshopped), but if they aren't, they're usually dust particles or blurred light from a light source. Yet, anyone who's willing the believe will take it all in, slack-jawed and all.

What's the point of all this?

Well, for one, I hate it. But I'm sure you've already figured that out. The real reason I wrote all of this is because, well, I think it's part of what's wrong with our society. Not only does an immense fear of anything hinder our progress, as well as religious and spiritual beliefs, but so do these types of programs. They give validation to ignorance, consolation to lack of reason, and justification to a distrust and misunderstanding of science. I wouldn't say outlaw this medium (no pun intended), but boycott it. It's mindless drivel that encourages people not to seek factual, reasonable information but rather to jump to unfounded stories with no proof, whatsoever. It's this kind of thing that establishes ignorance as normal and acceptable. People should understand Occam's Razor, the simplest explanation is probably the right one, not the most convoluted. So, with that, I leave you with this image of what's really mystifying and, to me, supernaturally incredible:

Amazing. Just amazing. :)

It's Been a While, But...

I've decided to give this blog thing another shot. You see, I was a little saddened that no one came to check out my first post, even after "advertising" it for a little while. Oh well! Combing that, I have also since come to realize that there are about more than 200,000 blogs each day, and the number that exist on the internet is so staggering that it probably jumps well over the billions. Even so, I've decided to continue this blog, just to see how long I can go without anyone reading it. Well, that's actually a part of it. Another is because, well, this could also be a sort of journal for ideas and rants. That's probably the main reason anyone starts a blog, but still, it'll be kind of cool to have a collection of ideas, rants, discussions, reviews, artwork, blah blah blah.

Like, just now, I saw a news report about this blanket with sleeves called a, "Snuggie." I remember when I first saw that infomercial, I was like, "All right! People will start wearing cult-style robes again!" I mean, it's so great. Not only will you remain warm, you'll also look like you belong to some evil cult because every other middle-class, used-to-shop-at-the-Sharper-Image-before-it-went-bankrupt-but-will-still-buy-pointless-stuff-to-give-more-meaning-to-their-meaningless-lives person will be wearing them!

In any case, I hope someone will find this blog amusing, interesting, enraging and, most of all, entertaining. And if any of youz people steal my ideas, I'LL MUYDA YA!!