Tag Archives: Horrible

Saturation vs. Stimulation (In Movies, Particularly)

When I ignore what I’m told, and “nerd out”, I’m much happier, and my work is better. I hope I can retain this confidence to “choose my words carefully”, and be “overly descriptive”, because it actually makes me happy. With that being said, here’s the topic that I wish to discuss using said hope.

I can’t stand action movies because of their improbability, especially considering the sheer number of action movies out there.

I get that art is a “heightened” sense of reality, but come on now…

The “explosions” are so saturated in film that I am uninterested in them. “Oh, would you look at that. Yet another explosion. How original.” I suppose I’m an idiot, because I’m superficially talking about explosions in movies instead of stories in movies. But I’m not much of a “movie” person (I guess because of all of the EXPLOSIONS).

It’s the same thing with shootings in movies. Most of the bullets miss. I already know this “going in”. I can’t suspend my disbelief enough to care about the “inherent danger” of those in the bullets’ path.

I feel the same way (most of the time) with “good guys” and “bad guys”. I expect the good guys to win. I can’t believe that the bad guy is any real danger because I’m certain he’s going to lose. I prefer the “bad guy” to win at the end because it is an unexpected suckerpunch. It’s kind of like watching a sporting event where the “underdog” loses. Most people want to see the underdog “win”. But in movies, the “underdog” is the villain. I can’t believe that a hero in a movie is an “underdog” (even if the script tries to describe him as such) because I’m sure that he’s going to win. The villain is the underdog in movies, in my mind. I usually want the villain to win. I want the unexpected, and I want to be excited and a little depressed at the end. I don’t want the telegraphed “happy ending”. There’s exceptions to this rule (usually when the movie is about a historical war), but this is generally the case for me. Movies (particularly “action” movies) are mundane to me. I need some twists that I can’t see coming. I want very little predictability (unless it makes me laugh). I think I should do some in-depth movie reviews to try to illustrate what I like and dislike about specific films I have seen to make this easier.

I’ve always been one to care more about why and how movies were made than “enjoying” movies in the typical way most people do. There, of course, have been many exceptions to this. But generally, I have always been more interested in why there was so much money involved in movies, and why and how the movies were made, as I have already said.

Almost every time I watch a movie, I try to predict what will happen. Sitting there, “waiting” for it to unfold when I already know what is going to happen is so excruciatingly boring. Why would I watch it if I know what is going to happen? It’s like a scientific experiment that has been done forever: sure, when you first have a theory, you need to test it experimentally. But expecting me to “shut up” and “just watch it” is expecting way too fucking much from me. The formula is played out, even if the details vary. I need to experience something else. I recall being younger, watching a movie in school (I forget which one), and I said “Such and such is going to happen.” I was bored to tears, and I kept doing this. Someone finally said “I know, but shut up.” This person was intently watching. Why watch if you know exactly what is going to happen? I never understood it: especially something “serious”. Romance is disgusting (of course). Action movies are boring. Comedies are good, historical movies are good. Drama is a mixed bag. Most of the time, it falls flat on its face to me. A movie like “Jack” starring Robin Williams is an example of a drama done really fucking well. I cried when I first saw it as a teenager. It wasn’t cliché (it seemed very original to me, but I’m no expert). It was incredibly moving. So many dramas seem to be of the romantic variety, so perhaps that’s why I have such a problem with them. It is also just so fucking easy to become melodramatic. It is hard to create a compelling drama. And it is hard to get me to suspend my disbelief (especially with drama).

But I do enjoy the “horror” genre of movies. The more extreme, the better. Why do I get tired of explosions, but not blood? I don’t know the exact statistics, but is murder less “probabilistic” than explosions “in the real world”? Why do I care more for blood than explosions?

I should specify that I’m still not an avid “movie watcher”. I don’t gorge myself with horror films. I’m not really a “movie guy”. But when I do watch a movie, I want it to either be a comedy or a horror film. (Or a Batman film. I’ll have to leave him for another piece).

So why do I love blood in movies so much more than explosions?

I guess it’s because I enjoy purposeful, evil darkness more so than accidental explosions (even if the explosions are purposeful. I want to see some fake blood where the tone is more “dark” than “exciting”. To me, “dark” is “exciting”. “Exciting” is “boring”. It has become cliché).

Couldn’t it be said that murder is also cliché and boring? How many stabs and slashes can you watch? Once again, I repeat, I’m not a big “movie guy”, but murder films are more refreshing to me (believe it or not) than “The good guys always win and the horror doesn’t even look that bad” films. A guy robbed a bank. Who cares? Why should I be invested? Does he have a hostage? How bad does he treat the hostage? A “bad guy” is selling drugs. Who cares? I want his reason for being bad to be almost incomprehensible. Why does he kill? He just does. Or something traumatizing happened to him. I don’t want it to make any sense. Money makes too much sense to me. If a villain is going to be a villain because of money, he needs to be a really fucking brutal villain for me to care. (Color is also a big deal to me. I want everything to look dark and dirty: not bright and flashy).

If people are racing in a movie, and there’s an explosion (or a chase scene leading to the same thing), the “accident” doesn’t feel real to me because I know it was scripted. There’s just a certain tone that movies have to have for me to like them. A guy walking away from an explosion in slow-motion while rock music plays makes me want to blow my brains out. It is possible that I found the character compelling before that moment, in which case, his previous circumstances may make his “badassery” interesting. But I hate explosions for their own sake. I just, more often than not, can’t find explosions compelling. It depends on the characters and the tone of the film, but most of the time, it feels like explosions are the reasons why movies are created. “People are gonna pay to watch shit blow up. Nothing else matters, but let’s have some really fucking fast cars in there as well. We need to have something to happen in between the explosions, and people expect to see a movie that’s at least an hour and a half, so let’s make it happen!” I don’t watch a lot of movies, but I get the sense that so many movies revolve around explosions, and I find that quite lazy. Once again, I’m probably wrong, because I don’t watch a lot of movies, but that’s just my impression of them. There probably needs to be some parody involved if I’m going to care about explosions. Or, ironically enough, some drama surrounding them. Not action. I’m fucking tired of “action”.

When I first saw the movie “Atomic Twister” as a young teen, I was hooked. The idea of a tornado hitting a nuclear power plant was fucking terrifying to me. That was, really, all I needed: the fact that it could be real, and be really devastating. And it was original: sure, there’s the movie “Twister”. But this was “Atomic Twister” (lol). Yes, I was younger, and I know this affected my perception of the movie. But it wasn’t “Cars drive real fast – anti-hero – drugs are involved – bang-bang shoot ’em up” movie. Most of those make me want to fucking vomit.

However, when you have a very sadistic killer, I feel like the writer of the script is trying to understand these killers on the deepest level possible (besides going out and killing someone in real life), and that attempt to connect humanely with something so inhumane is appealing to me. “Why does he kill?” “No one knows.” That is a compelling story to me.

When you can move past the fear (at least the nearly-religious fear of being so afraid of it that you ignore it and try to get away from it as much as possible, including not attempting to empathize with it in any way to humanize it), it becomes a deep, heartfelt, gut-wrenching journey between trying to relate to those so despicable. It is, in my opinion, one of the most humane things one can do. If you can try to understand a serial killer, even if you are trying to empathize with someone who has no empathy (which may or may not be possible: topic for another time), to me, that’s as empathetic as you can get. It may or may not be possible, and I certainly wouldn’t say that you should go out and kill people to know what it feels like, but all the same, I think that, at least for me, and through art, connecting to that type of human is exciting. Conflict is extremely important when it comes to art and storytelling, and there is no greater conflict (in my opinion) than extreme life and death; peace and suffering; humanity and complete evil in human form (which, it could be argued, isn’t even human AT ALL. A very interesting discussion).

All I can think of, when real tragedies happen, is sadness. And I try to move on from them quickly, and I don’t try to waste my time trying to understand it, because I don’t think that I could.

But through art, I believe that one can empathize, ponder, and try to relate to these (as they are called) “monsters” in that way that is less angry at their actions (which is understandable), and turn that into tragedy, in trying to understand why they did it, and, perhaps, forgive them for it. It’s a great philosophical topic to think about: empathizing with the unempathetic. It’s too complicated for me to analyze it here, but there’s a deep part of me that wishes to understand human-created horror (I don’t think I’m any different from anyone else in that regard), and I think that the type of art that I create is my way of doing that. I don’t know for a fact if this is correct, but it certainly feels that way…

Also, I think another reason (a potentially BIG reason) that I am “obsessed” with “offensive“, “violent” art has to do with the fear of being one myself, which, no doubt, was greatly influenced by religious preachings of wariness, lest we sin every possible sin, and become a murdering, incestuous, raping, homosexual thief…

I, also, feel the same way about choreographed fighting as I do explosions. I get that to people that enjoy these types of movies, they are some of the more “exciting” parts of these movies. But choreographed fighting (usually) bores me. No one takes a good, solid hit for the first five minutes of fighting (both sides block every blow, or the strikes just completely whiff), and then either the good guy or bad guy gets hurt. They stop, look at their wound. If it’s the bad guy, he gets more angry than he was before, and the good guy can barely defend himself from it. If it is the good guy, the movie makes you think he’s going to lose. But, by some miracle (either from a compromised structure due to earlier in the film, or another character, or whatever), the good guy wins. I know it sounds like I’m always against good guys winning. (Most of the time, I am). But I want the good guy to be compelling to me. Most of the time, this just isn’t the case. I’m rarely invested in the story, because I’m not a “movie” guy. “Dur, then why are you writing about movies, huh?”

I also want to bring up one more aspect of acting in general: dialogue. Maybe I’m being overly-critical here, but the way dialogue is delivered today drives me mad. Cop shows on television are fucking terrible for it. Detective walks in, almost power-walking, throws a folder down on the counter of the “main guy in charge” talking in this low “serious” voice. A question is asked. The dialogue is delivered in the same monotone voice. Guy asks another question. Detective asks a question back in a higher tone. Lead guy answers with a “Well blah blah blah blah.” I can’t fucking take it. I can’t fucking sit through that shit. (The only exception to this was “House”. It was a “detective” show, but it wasn’t a “cop” show. House was a very interesting character. The formula worked for that show. It was like they combined a detective show with a hospital show. It was quite original, and very well done). I have problems with dialogue in action movies, too. They just don’t sell me. I’m not buying into them. Once again, admittedly, I’m not a “movie” guy. But it’s not like a movie or a show can’t capture me. Most of them just don’t, though. The formula is played out. The tones of dialogue are so predictable (as is almost everything else about the movies) that I can’t bring myself to watch them. But, they sell well.

I enjoy movies that are a little weird. A movie like “Teeth”, for instance. A vagina with teeth. Fucking beautiful. Hilarious. Now that is original. It’s got comedy and horror: two of my favorite things.

“Rubber”. A fucking tire that blows shit up. It’s so dumb, and that’s why I love it so much. It’s so “absurd”: “out there”. I find that refreshing. I don’t need to find it believable, or emotional. Give me dumb, but give me original. I think that’s what I enjoy the most about movies.

“Human Centipede”. Need I say more? A fucking hilarious horror movie. My only problem with the movie was the main villain, believe it or not. I enjoyed what he did, but I didn’t enjoy his personality. He came across as a little cheesy to me. I guess I wanted him to come across a little more like Jason, or Jigsaw.

One of my favorite movies of all time (and I’m not joking): “The Descent”. I know that is going to sound weird to pretty much everyone. “I can tell you really haven’t seen a lot of movies, Cody.” The whole setting in that movie was wonderful to me. There’s a real terror involved: what if you do get fucking lost in this cave? What if you can’t get out? I found it very compelling. The bullshit at the end was funny and cheesy, but I was emotionally invested before that.

I want my movies to be a little bit weird. A little bit “off-kilter”. Once again, I’d like to write some movie and show reviews. Some reviews of movies I watched a long time ago. Same with television shows. I’d like to even do the same thing with some books, eventually.

I’m not going to claim that any of my reviews are “objective” in any way, and, of course, you have the right to disagree with everything I say about any review. I’m not claiming that “I’m right and you’re wrong”: I’m just writing my opinions.

If the process of growing up has taught me anything, it is that individuals must live their own lives, with their own feelings, and experience the world in their own ways, make their own mistakes, and pursue their own passions.

Movie Freespace.




Reviews (etc.) of movies and T.V. shows.





Here’s a good poem I wrote in less than a minute. Only bragging because I guess it sells better that way?

This poem is about me becoming more of an independent person through decisions and desires.

No need to overthink this one.


An unpopular thought.

An unexpected joke.

A reserve.

An expression…

A dream.

A life.

A goal.

A wish.

A challenge.

A drive…

…A man.

A bum.

A jerk.

A sinner.

A lunatic.

A kid.

A jokester.

A game.

A bet.

A loser.

A mistake.

Another mistake.

A will.

A belief.

A talent.

A pride.

An independence.

A hearing.

A listening.

A pondering.

A discontent.

A doubt.

A depression.

A doubt.

A depression.

A doubt.

A depression.

A doubt…

…A passion.

A voice.

A rejection.

A rejection.

A rejection.

A rejection.

A rejection.

A praise.


A confusion.

A pondering.

A selling.

A joke.

Another joke.

Another joke.

Another joke.

An insight.

A day off.

A day on.

A day on.

A day on.

A day on.

A day off.

A day on.

A day off.

A day off.

A day off.

A day off.

A day off…

…A terror.

A discontentment.

A terror.

A discontentment.


…An approval.

…A discontentment.

…A question.

…An answer!

…A discontentment.

…A ponder.

A question.

An answer.

…A discontentment.


A noise.

A deafening noise…

A drowning noise…

A disagreement.

A rebuttal.

A drowning noise.

A reflection.

A confusion.

A depression.

A deep swim.

A conclusion.

A silence…

A deafness…

A peace…



An uncertainty…

An infinity…

A conclusion…

A Declaration of Independence.

“I Am”.

My poetry.

My work.

I guess this is why I laugh all of the time.

I want to relax and have fun.

Seriousness and tragedy are hard for my soul to bear.

I’m extremely affected when I feel that another has been dealt an unfair hand by life.

And it is excruciatingly difficult to accept certain facts of life regarding unfavorable circumstances.

Sitting and pondering them, and wondering how to balance out, say, justly giving those who can’t walk that ability just as other people have, but understanding that they were still cheated of that ability at some point while others weren’t, is extremely difficult for me to accept, even though there is nothing I can do about it.

It is extremely hard for me to “move on”, even among things that the afflicted parties involved may have already accepted long ago. (It’s even worse if they haven’t accepted it, for then, I wish that I could resolve these inequalities all the more).

As my best friend has said, it is true that there is a somewhat mysterious charm in how (to put it lightly), the giant lifts the cereal off of the top shelf for the short person, but I still have a hard time accepting and moving on from the fact that some people are born afflicted with disadvantageous (for example) genetic conditions, or other factors, that either can or have greatly diminished their quality of life…

I have little resolutions for myself in this regard. Therefore, seriously pondering these issues, looking for answers, quite often proves fruitless, and only leaves my heart weary.

However, I choose to address these dark things through fiction, just so I never take for granted good things that happen, and (hopefully) prevent myself from turning my back on that cold, ruthless, ruinous monster known as the horror that roams this earth…

For I know that turning a cold shoulder to that shadowy monster will only make his cold grip, which turns you around and reveals his soulless eyes, and void form, that much more devastating to the spirit inside of the soul…

Offend the Fuck Out of People.

Excerpts from my fiction.



Videos that can only be categorized as “Comedy”.


Murray Rothbard – Egalitarianism as a Revolt Against Nature, and Other Essays.

The Dark Cloud

There are some people of a serious demeanor who have such constitutions as to allow them to tackle tragedy with soldier-like courage; who, unblinkingly, stare at the fiery, horny behemoth, whose black, hateful heart, tears, rapes, kills, and tortures mercilessly, laughing all the while, and enjoying and reveling in every moment of it…

…I have no such constitution.

Humor is my only coping mechanism; the only thing that keeps the swallowing death of horror from overtaking me.

My brain cannot ignore horror.

I’m too smart of a person to ignore it. I’m intelligent enough to realize its existence, although I’m happy that it all does not all emotionally engulf me (it does enough damage as it is when it gets stuck in my head).

My almost-near constant awareness of the blackness is of such a reality that if I was a completely serious person, I probably would have killed myself years ago. The horror is, all too often, quite real. Although my experience with personal horror is so little that I can say that I’ve never actually experienced it in my life, my almost overly-empathetic nature causes me to stress over other people’s problems at an almost lightspeed constant.

It’s hard to ignore the monster in the closet that you know is there…

I’ve probably always cared too much about people, which makes me thankful that, as an adolescent, I decided to be more apathetic. It was, quite literally, another coping mechanism (in addition to comedy). However, I could never totally let the horror go, because it isn’t in my nature. Once again, I’m too smart to become oblivious to the horror. So I express my awareness of the horror through art and comedy.

Comedy keeps me happy and helps me deal with all of the horror in the world.

The dark pieces of fiction that I create are my ways of being serious about the issues, but I choose to express through fiction (which is way less serious than actual horror) instead of seriousness to keep the evil from weighing heavily on my mind…

And then, that’s when dark comedy comes into play.

The horrible stuff in my art is my way of addressing the issues, while the comedy that often intertwines with the horror in my pieces of fiction is my real-life coping mechanism for the real-life horror that I discuss in my fiction. The subject matter is real, as is the coping mechanism, but the expression and interpretation is, obviously, fictional.

Although I do have my serious moments, and I have my moments where I seriously stand up for something to make a serious point, I simply can’t handle fronting a constant frontal of serious, chivalrous righteousness…

Offend the Fuck Out of People.

Excerpt from “Torture”.

Excerpts from “Frank and Bob”.

Excerpt from “Deadly Accurate”.

Excerpts from “Dark”.

My work.









Videos that can only be categorized as “Comedy”.



Voluntarism and Capitalism.





Free Will Contradictions.

Where you can financially support me if you so desire (T-shirts included; please share all of these links).

I don’t want to mention any names (but I do anyway), and CERTAINLY other people have had it worse than I did, but, nonetheless, there’s some problems here with how I was raised, and with conservative morality, which teaches people to repress their honest emotions with the rationalization that “other people have it worse”. It’s just quite frankly UNLOVING, to be honest with you…

Sometimes, shoddy things just happen.

That’s a lesson that I had to learn early on in life…

Over and over and over again…

Depression, once a seemingly insurmountable obstacle, that I would have to hope and pray would go away, now does not seem as daunting.

Granted, I have not reached that level of darkness that I have frightfully reached in the past…

But thankfully, I’m older, and I understand things better now, and all of that fear and confusion from my youth, which led to a longlasting depression, now are only painful memories instead of a fearful reality.

I suppose that’s the silver lining, although looking back on it, it is still excruciatingly painful…

That isn’t even mentioning the conservatism that followed suit after that…

And then the atheism, and then the assholishness, and then the dark comedy…

I was lashing out against conservatism BAD, and fucking RIGHTLY so…

Also, I STILL don’t know how I got out of that depression…

The depressions that I feel nowadays are, in my opinion, of a different variety, and of different things.

But the events that were occurring during my life as a kid were just far too confusing to comprehend, and, honestly, some of the parental choices that my mother made (which were, quite frankly, dreadful, despite her good intentions), no doubt made me quite emotionally cold, as much as she would hate to read that…

I suppose that’s all part of the past, now, however…

I’ve never really liked to analyze the darkness of my past, but now, it feels more controllable…

That also explains why I’m so forgetful: shitty stuff made me train myself to be forgetful so that I could forget all of the shit my mother did to me (abandonment, a couple of quick, unpredictable strikes to the face for cursing (hypocritical, I might add…), stuff like that), and how she reacted when I confronted her about it (playing the victim), and all of the shit she did for years following that (pretty much abandoning the family for years, then dropping in and trying to be “loving” for a couple of minutes before taking off again), and it explains why our relationship is still semi-strained to this day (well duh…no shit).

It’s dark stuff…

I haven’t really thought about my relationship with my peers back then, but it’s pretty dark as well.

And, I honestly, completely realize now why running away from dark things just doesn’t work.

Here lately, I have been completely accepting my depression, and not running away from it, and have accepted the “flaw” or “brokenness” that I have (as, I guess, I used to think of it), and although, of course, it is depressing, there’s something relieving about not running away from it anymore…

Of course, depression is dark. But it’s REAL. If you have it, running away from it doesn’t work. Conservative moralism doesn’t work (God forbid!). To be honest, I can’t exactly explain what works, but all I know is that from here, I’m going to continue to deconstruct my past, and ignore pretty much every single piece of advice that I’ve ever been given, because I know that it will point me in a more apropos direction for myself…

But now, it makes me wonder about my previous mistakes, and how I can know if any of my decisions are going to pan out or not…

I suppose, that’s the part of age, where you can only discover that for yourself, and through hindsight…

Thank you, movie, for bringing back these blackouts that were previously pains.

I can tell that reliving this pain is going to make me a more effective, competent writer, as I’m not running away from my honest feelings, and not doing what other people tell me to do just because they care about me, when I know that it is the wrong direction for myself…

And perhaps, this is what my loved ones want…

Even though they tried to steer me in a direction that I didn’t want to go (as all parents do to some degree, honestly…), and I know it wasn’t malevolent (although some of the decisions were honestly terrible), I can see that some of their philosophies are counter-intuitive to my personality, and now, I have a more developed sense of rational thought to realize this, an increased vocabulary, and confidence to assert this.

As long as some people don’t try to guilt me into thinking that I don’t love them, all may very well be hunky-dory…



Excerpts from my fiction.

My poetry.


Offend the Fuck Out of People.

My work.

Where you can financially support me if you so desire (T-shirts included; please share all of these links).

A Knight and a Jester…

I just wanted to take the time to say that I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about me.

Yes, it is annoying for people to misinterpret my work, and I hate explaining myself to “haters”, and yes, I do get sad when people misinterpret my work, and I do often “defend” myself when, deep down, I know it’s a waste of energy.

I just “defend” myself as a way to justify my own actions to myself. I’m basically trying to convince myself of what I’m saying. (This is largely due to being raised that you can’t trust yourself, because you are a sinner…)

But really, I don’t see the harm of vitriol.

What difference does it make if I’m despised or not?

I think I kind of ENJOY it deep down, honestly…

I LOVE making people angry who misunderstand what I’m doing.

No doubt, it is because I love freedom, and love expressing my freedom away from the chains of moralistic conservatism

I don’t think that I’m enjoying the suffering of those who are slaves, but rather, I’m mocking their attempts to enslave me. They can’t do it, and it is impossible. And that overwhelms me with joy, so I, like an immature jester, revel in my freedom, and laugh at and mock conservatism, for no matter how close it may come to me, I know that it will never CONSUME and ENSNARE me, so its attempts to do such can only produce laughter from me, as I know how futile its attempts to do such are…

And, no doubt, there’s a little bit of laughing to fight back the tears as well, in there…

Many times, the fatalistic nature of certain evils and injustices produce an unspeakable depression in me, and in other times, I mock them and make jokes of them.

I can’t IGNORE them, for it is not in me to do so. I know that, deep down in my heart, there are horrible, widely unspeakable things on this earth.

And that’s why I speak about them.

The horror is often difficult to bear on my heart. And if I look at it through a serious lens, its torture is strong enough to make me want to give in. But laughing at it is one thing that gives me the strength to face it. For my constitution is only strong enough to take it seriously for so long: eventually, a joke must be made of it, and that is my way of taking it seriously: of acknowledging the problem.

But I only have a constitution which can attempt to solve the problem for so long, before it starts to consume me, and starts to draw me into that infinite depression…

And then, my only choices are to, scarily, give in to that depression, or to find something to laugh at to cheer me up.

And I think that my natural comedy comes from my nature to see the horribleness as deeply as I can, and look it straight in the eye, and fight it as long as I can, until I begin to lose, and then, I must back away slowly, laughing to fight back the tears of what I have just faced, and what I have just seen…

There are many people, lost within the unspeakable horror, who, all the more horrifically, attempt to put a smile on their face among the pain, but who pervertedly say that the pain is their happiness.

These people: these poor, lost souls, drowning in a sea of evil, and thanking God for it, are, no doubt, part of the reason why my “darkart has developed as it has. I consider a large portion of my “offensivepersonality as a backlash against religious conservatism.

There have been many, for example, comedians who were raised Catholic who lashed out against their evil raisings, and whose personalities became shaped to be very “offensive“, “satirical”, and “abrasive”.

No doubt, my attempts to be moralistically optimistic, and the absolutely atrocious, horrible, monstrous depression that followed the certain failure of that attitude, have shaped my personality to be extra cynical, and pessimistic, which have, no doubt, also shaped my personality to be comedic, in order to deal with it all. And, no doubt, it has also shaped my type of comedy to be dark, and horrific, for that’s what false optimism and strict religiosity are: dark, horrific evils…

May God have mercy on those who live their lives strictly by the book, and who cry and weep at night; feel the pain in their hearts, and give lip service to the many gifts that they have received from God; and who consider it their moral duty to recruit others into that militaristic HELL

Free Will Contradictions.



Offend the Fuck Out of People.


My work.

Excerpts from my fiction.



Videos that can only be categorized as “Comedy”.


(I know that the radio and the toaster would be more appropriate, but I realized this after I found this scene, and I don’t know of any scenes in the first movie where the radio and toaster are alone together. Perhaps there is one, though…)

Horrific Art

There are horrible things in the world, that a loving person, thankfully, cannot empathize with.

But I would consider it a humanitarian disservice to not bring these things to attention through artistic means…

Not to praise them, of course, but to raise awareness of them without actually showing people visuals of the acts themselves.

Because it is important to be aware of the darkest darkness, for ignorance and repression only make these evil things worse, by making them harder to cope with.

Awareness, in my opinion, is the first step towards coping with these atrocious evils…

That’s what I want to portray with all of my “evil”, “vicious” art

Offend the Fuck Out of People.


Excerpts from my fiction.

My work.