So I've been depressed for the last little bit, but I finally found something today to make me smile. This campaign ad is AWESOME- if you're a democrat- I mean, if you're a republican it makes you look like you don't know the difference between an election and the rapture, but if you're a democrat, it's FUCKING EPIC!!! It's got so many of my favorite features!
Loss of jobs in the creepy little arian kid department; which, I'm only assuming is a continuation of the trend that began with Sadoku and has been steadily continuing with other minorities getting our creepy little kid jobs, such as the creepy little boy from Lost, the creepy little boy from Heroes, and the creepy little girl who turns out to actually be a killer little person who's only PRETENDING to be a creepy little girl- can't remember the name of that movie, but anyway, you get my point. To long have those Village of the Damned or Poltreguist kids taken all of our creepy kid jobs. That shit is set to be phased out within the next 2 years, hopefully through some kind of creepy kid Affermitive Action law or some shit.
Look, if you know me in the really real world, this is something I have genuinely bitched about for years. As a child, I really wanted to be a creepy kid. I enjoyed, as many kids who grow up to be alterna-teens and then "goth" adults, the macabre, from, you know, things kids consider macabre like Are You Afraid of the Dark to reading the Complete Works of Edger Allen Poe in kindergarten (true story, Accelerated Reading bullshit) but there was a problem. No one in their right mind would fear me. The average frightening child looked like this:
Whereas I, looked like this
In my defense, the Little Mermaid was huge at the time.
The only kids who came anything close to looking like me, was I THINK, and I'm not for sure, that the creepy twins from The Shining were brunettes, but they were ok, because they were twins. Were they not twins, they never would have gotten that role, it would have went to a blond, and YOU KNOW IT. So anyway, yes, we're gaining ground, if this commercial can be considered correct.
My second favorite part of the commercial is the guy. He seems to be very confused as to how gas pumps works, or, he couldn't get his hands on a gun and intends to soak himself and then light a match. The latter would be cool to watch, because anyone who's so lazy that having to drive a little less prompts suicide doesn't really need to be here anyway- he's just dragging the gene pool down. And if he DOES think that it's going to kill him, then he'll be in for quite a shock when all that happens is he smells horrible. There's no way to stop the smell. Scrub all you want, you still smell like gas. And you'll have to burn that outfit. Look at him!! I love this guy! He's right up there with the propeller guy from Titanic as one of those deaths that you'll feel horrible laughing at, but you just can't stop yourself. This poor dumbass!
So anyway, what will the president say when he sees this video? Probably something along what the rest of the world said.
So, I've always been intriguing by Muslim women and their whole, "Fuck the beauty standard" thing. That idea is intriguing, to be feminine, but to not give a shit how you look, because who the fuck do you have to impress? western women like to feel beautiful, select clothes and make-up, shave, count calories, etc- and when you think about it, that's time we could be spending curing cancer or whatever. I'm not talking shira law bullshittery, I'm talking actual Muslim women who simply believe, as part of their moral code, that they got no one to impress, and if someone doesn't like it, they got a male bodyguard at all times to kick his ass so they don't get their hands dirty. I can kind of get behind that.
But, I'm a true western woman, raised in the petticoat government, so the entire idea kind of goes against the cut of my gib, fucks up the grain and whatnot. The idea that I would need a male bodyguard insults me, as it does many western women, because honestly, if I'm that scared, I'll pack a gun. And I'm not modest. It's just not my thing.
But that doesn't mean that I disrespect someone because it is their thing. But it does raise a question- how do you go swimming? If your goal is to cover everything, including your curves (many of these ladies are so modest that they won't wear anything form fitting even if it covers them head to toe) then that rules out even a swimsuit. So I looked it up and found that many modest women simply don't swim. Those that do, however, wear a swimsuit remniciant of the one that Sweeny Todd is wearing in By the Sea. Those things are AWESOME. I mean, they seriously are really pretty.
It's a swimsuit designed to be just as modest as a burka, and thus has been named the "burkini". Some even have a veil that you can pull down if you don't want folk seeing your face for... whatever reason. I never did get that, you honestly think that you're so hot you don't want folk looking upon your beauty? That's not bitchy at all... but anyway- they look like minidresses and tights! I would wear this sans hood, it's adorable.
I just wanted to let people know that these exist. You can get them from http://www.burkini.com/
Maybe it's because I let responsibility trap me here again, but I feel like I'm going through my quarter-life crisis. I keep realize that I'm aging, and I keep getting paradoxically more angered and more apathetic at the world around me, and the stupid shit that it encompasses. There comes a time, I think, where the brain gives you cynicism and apathy to avoid a complete mental breakdown, and I think that more and more people are malfunctioning on that front. I can feel the forces within me fighting for control as the jet black in my hair fades to a shining silver. I realize that this is a fucked up place, yet I'm losing my youthful exuberance to do anything about it. I see people with black lung taking oxygen from a tank bearing a sticker that reads coal keeps the lights on. I see parents preaching morality as they teach their children that's it's perfectly ok to discriminate against people who like to suck cock. I see people preach about a drug war, then step off the podium to snort their coke. And I have seen this stupid shit for 26 fucking years.
You know, when I was 16, I kept telling myself that when I escaped, in 2 short years, I would set forth on a journey to uncover the world's secrets. To learn WTF was going on, because it was impossible for me to understand how such hypocritical behavior was even possible. I've always been an open app; I do what I do, and if you don't like it, then you can fuck right off. There is nothing forcing you to be around me. It continues to shock me the way that other people hide who they are because... I haven't quite figured that part out yet. I suppose that some part of it is the money. The senators who preach anti-gay legislation and then go fuck their South American rent boys are afraid of prosecution- but can they really be so stupid that they don't realize that they created and fed the thing that they fear so? And it's not just that, it's any vice. Who the Fuck is everyone hiding from? What the fuck is everyone afraid of?
Am I alone? Am I alone in the desire that stupidity become unacceptable? That fear become logical? I have illogical fears- honestly, and I am not shitting you, my biggest fear is that caterpillars are going to crawl in my ears- and other orifices, but mostly my ears- to the point that I cannot cut my hair above the ears, because for some reason, that feeling of not having my ears exposed, on some primal level comforts me. But the kicker here is- I KNOW THAT THAT IS RETARDED. I don't go around trying to convince other people to wear headphones to avoid parasites- and I don't even know of a single breed of caterpillar that even does that (if you do, please don't tell me, because I prefer to think that this fear is completely unfounded). I also fear that butterflies and moths will lay their eggs in an orifice, and then the caterpillars will be in there- just eating away at my insides with their voracious appetite... And it's not a small fear, either, it's like... I can't look at pictures of them on-line or in print. I don't even like caterpies from Pokemon, because that green, segmented kind is the absolute worse for me. And fun fact- they make dildos shaped that that. That right there is nightmare fuel. Do you remember that scene, I can't remember which movie it was in, where Fred Kreuger turns into the caterpillar from Wonderland and goes down that guy's throat. That made me physically sick. And I'm never affected by movies- EVER. If you come near me with a caterpillar, I will fucking shoot you- I'm not shitting you, I will cut a bitch. Ask my cousin Wayne whom I bit the shit out of because he brought one of those things near me. His ass never did it again.
Kinda lost my train of thought on the whole bug thing there... Oh yeah, people are fucking proud of their stupidity, proud of their ignorance, and that is unacceptable. Don't be afraid that people will judge you for your vices- let them. Fuck them. Who the fuck are they? People deserve an honest look at others. And if you look at me, you get honesty. I'm not perfect, but if I don't know anything about something, I don't open my fucking mouth. I don't really hate anything, and I don't really dislike anything without a good, logical reason. And if I'm presented new evidence, I incorporate it into my existing schemas, changing them if necessary. I don't hang on to outdated bullshit and call it fact. I have what is known to my generation, as an exceptionally low bullshit threshold. I cannot put up with a vast amount of bullshit. Dealing with to much bullshit, most of which is voluntary stupidity, puts me into a psychotic rage coma, wherein my brain stops trying to put up with it, and, if bombarded, will shut down completely.
That was far more acceptable as a teenager. But the fact is, I set out into the world, and I found that most towns, do not have the vast amount of bullshit, that my hometown does. This place is full of underemployed, under-educated, ignorant people, who have no intellectual curiosity or desire to better themselves. There are no charity events, there is no ASPCA for me to sponsor animals through, there is no green movement- you have to drive for 2 hours to get to the nearest grocery co-op, there is no public transportation- the pollution index is the highest of any town in the state of Ky; the drug abuse is rampant- leading not only Kentucky, but the entire US in prescription drug abuse (look it up if you want to find out where I am). So here I sit, surrounded by these people who neither want nor deserve help, eating factory-farmed crap and hating myself for it- forgetting what real food tastes like, forgetting what real conversations are. Therefore, the mini-comas I spoke of, that happened regularly throughout my high school career, have returned.
The doctors warn that with each "episode" I actually lose synaptic connections, and that if they continue, I could lose brain function. They've given me three different medications to help slow the deterioration, yet all four consultants say the same thing.
"Get out" says the MD.
"Get out" says the psychiatrist.
"Get out" says the neurologist.
"Get out" says the gynecologist.
I consulted a gynecologist because I felt that the problem may have been hormonal in nature, as intense moods often are. I have endometreosis, so this was not an unreasonable assumption. But the simple fact of the matter is, it's called "Situational Depression"- and people with such low bullshit meters cannot survive and function in this type of environment. As soon as I get out of the enviroment, I will no longer have these episodes, I will no longer risk losing brain function, I will return to my pre-depression, normally functioning self. I'm beginning to think that my therapist is right. I really can't just sit around and wait on my grandfather to die. I love him, and I know that Black Lung is a terrible, debilitating disease (he can't even weed his garden) but if I die, or become a vegetable, it will put such a strain on his heart that it would probably be worse then if I left. I just don't know what to do.
I feel 10 years younger then I am. I feel trapped, and betrayed. And I'm so very, very lonely. I was pursing a graduate degree- and I moved from discussing psychopharmocology, with a special interest in developmental effects of teterogens, to... people who say that I use words to be "impressive" when I just speak plainly. People who, honestly, don't follow me, or anything else, and are only impressed by my hot ass, which, honestly, is nothing to be impressed about. There are millions of chicks with hot asses, and a few more months of eating factory farmed food and drinking water coated in a thick layer of coal slurry, and my beauty will pass. The contaminates will break out my skin and discolor my hair (the water is so bad your skin and hair literally turn orange). The mini-comas will cripple my brain. And I will become the crippled shell I was as a teenager, full of hatred and angst; but it doesn't look nearly as good on someone pushing 30 as it did on someone pushing 20. My friends sympathize, but what can they do? They live in cities, far away from the bustle, and the economy has everyone stretched so tight that is difficult for them to come to me, and impossible for me to visit them. The one time they tried to visit they were repeatedly shot at and had their property defaced. But one thing is for sure, something must change. I may still listen to Manson, but I am not longer the disposable teen I once was. I no longer look to the future with a sort of wonder-filled gaze thinking that I will understand the world by magic. I've realized that in this world, you either make your own way, or you stagnate.
I'm an artist. I'm almost a scientist (2 classes short). This intellectual wasteland is killing me. The folk here make no attempt to make up for their ignorance, as I said before, they seem to take pride in it. They display confederate flags, not in a political statement for State's Rights and a dissaproval of strong federal government, but in the racist way most northerners think of the confederacy. It is not 1962- It's 2012. This is ridiculous. They do not make up for their lack of intellect in kindness, as I said, it's so easy to get shot at. The people with substance abuse problems seek no aid, unless you count helping themselves to the medicine cabinets of the elderly (such as my late great-grandmother). I'm drowning here, and I would love for someone to reach out to me.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Man, I have been on this huge nostalgia kick lately. I've been watching the HELL out of Pokemon, it started with just rehashing some of my favorite Team Rocket episodes, playing Pokemon Soul Silver, and pondering... then I got on Bulbapedia to see what new episodes were like, and if good ol' RockettoDan was even still in the show, whatwith these kids and their Team Galactic and whatnot- I know that in the comics they were more or less written out after Jessie got pregnant- turns out, they totally are. So I've been watching some of the new episodes- I dislike whoever replaced Eric Stewart as James's new voice actor- but, regardless, it gave me an idea for my first well-lit pics.
Retarded campy Hawaiian shirts in the Pokemon universe: Who wore it better?
This article is set to tie in very closely with the one I wrote yesterday- or this morning... I don't really sleep, and I'm on my second cup of coffee since 2am, working on my web comic- I need to find a scanner that works, my uncle's is on the fritz. Anyway, remember how I said that the subculture is dieing? And how we need to keep it alive for the sake of the children- WON'T SOMEONE PLEASE THINK OF THE CHILDREN!?! Well, here's a piece of your childhood that Scholastic just decided to shit all over.
You love Steve Gammel. I don't care if you think you've never heard of him- you love him and worship him like the nightmare god he is on a daily basis- every time you think of the artist that influenced your childhood, this is the man that you are thinking of. Because he was the man who illustrated the book that inspired you to enjoy your life, because sometimes, life could scare the absolute shit out of you.
This is the man who illustrated the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark series. His watercolors were both breathtaking and horrifying, and the only reason that these books were so immensely popular. It's not that I dislike Schwart's writing, nothing could be farther from the truth, but the fact remains that the stories were really only collections of American Folk Tales; stories that were published by a dozen authors in a dozen books- the like of Wait Till Martin Comes and Oh Susanna, but these iconic images could be found in only 2 sources- the Scary Stories series, and children's nightmares.
As the image on the left illustrates, the images don't even have to have a DAMN THING to do with the story, this pic, I always thought was what Suzy was dreaming while her roommate was being murdered, though there's absolutely no evidence for that apart from my own mind and the inclinations it has toward trying to tie shit together because it's got control issues. But my insanity aside, you all know that you picked those books because of the amazing illustrations.
So with the 30 year anniversary, obviously, the publisher's going to do something amazing, right? A new box set complete with audio books and a Gammel Hardcover art book with new and original illustrations from the past 30 years or somesuch. Something amazing like that that would put Der Mond to shame- something that commerates an artist who gave us 30 years- longer then some of us have been alive- of amazing artwork, changing our childhoods and teaching that art is more then just bright colors and linework- that it can be a window into the very soul, whether that soul is charming or dark. Or both. The fact that both can coexist.
I know that at this point, you're going to be expecting a link to this new set, just for the artbook. You're willing to spend the $50 or whatever they're asking, just to see those new prints. And I would gladly provide such a link- if one existed. However, what the good people at the Harper Collins publishing company have decided to do is down a significantly darker path. They've chosen to shit all over your childhood. Not only are they replacing every singe Gammel work in the new edition, they're discontinuing the editions that have the artist you've grown to love. And who have they chosen to replace Gammel? Why Brett Helquist, whom you may remember as the illustrator of Bunnicula. Give it a second to sink in. Read it twice if you had to. Understand that you read that correctly, the publishing company behind the Scary Stories series thought that the guy from Bunnicula would make a better artist then Gammel.
What
the
fuck?
Alright, now that that's sunk in, we can imagine that there must be a reason for this change. This man must have amazing skills that he just, until now, has not had an opportunity to showcase. So, let's compare a few of his illustrations with those of Gammel. First off, a strait comparison.
Everyone remembers Harold, the story of the renegade scarecrow that comes to life and flays himself a couple of farmboys. Alright, so here, we have the original.
That motherfucker is certainly capable of ripping off your skin and laying it to dry on the roof because you pissed him right off.
Is it just me- that's certainly a possibility- or does this guy looks like he could break into the chorus of If I Only Had a Brain at any second?
Both are strait on portraits of the character- both are in black & white, but still I see no comparison. Perhaps this is just a bad example.
What about the story of The Walk? That one that ends with the pants-shitting scream that's meant to be read aloud? You know the one about how your uncle was walking alone in the woods at night, and so was another man he had never met? And the man was scared of your uncle, and your uncle was scared of the man? That entire story is about mystery, and the fright that comes from the unknown. Gammel chose to illustrate this principle, with 2 shadowy figures in a nondescript wooded setting.
Lets see what Helquist chose to do-
Hmm... 2 men walking, both obviously Victorian-era white guys, and therefore, not at all everyone's uncle- or anyone's uncle, unless you have an uncle who is old as fucking hell. Also, neither one of them looks particularly scared, the one in the background, the brunette (and therefore, most likely to be my uncle, I guess...) looks rather annoyed, but not at all scared, and the one in front looks downright pissed that the other guy is looking at him. I don't know that Helquist somuchas knows what fear is. He seems to be confusing fear and anger.
So... if anyone knows where I can download an e-book of the originals, as Amazon is no longer selling them, I would be much obliged.
Alright, I'm not gonna lie, I have a really bad track record with blogs. Every time I create one, the poor thing lives a great life for a few months, and then died from neglect, rotting away in cyberspace like a comet- not Haley's, but one that no one really gives a shit about. This is just as good a place as any to post my whereabouts and work, for anyone who may possibly give said shit, so that I may be fertile and grow from them, like those mushrooms that everyone loves. Ask Mario. He knows what I'm talking about.
Alright- now, here's my first bitch. Where the hell did my subculture go? Where is everyone I used to know and love. From personal aquantinces, who I now only see over Facebook, who made high school bearable and college fucking great, are gone from my everyday experiences as we float through adulthood in veils of misery that are completely devoid of parties that started at one person's house and spilled over then entire apartment complex, where we would critique the paint-by-number Last Supper my brother got me, with all the symbolism of the one on the wall in Europe, the curoscuro that the copycat got right- to the famous artists who inspired me to create; Miyamoto's in retirement, Vasquez is- WTF is Mr. Scolex doing, directing live action or some shit?- McFarlane hasn't put out a decent comic since SPAWN- no more NightMares & FairyTales, no more Gloom Cookie, or Johnny, everything seems a shell of it's former self. I refuse to believe that this is because we've grown up. We still play Zelda, Pokemon continues to fly off the shelf, Miyazaki is still amazing. But we haven't seen anything new and original and gritty like, say, Maxx in ages. What are we doing?
We're still just as filled with angst as we once were. We can still buy, beg, borrow, or steal black eyeliner that looks just as good on the lips. We can still buy furniture upholstery fabric to make corsets and boots. We can still live, rather then fade into the limelight.
I feel very 14 writing this. And that made me think of Emily the Strange. I know that she's just a rip off of Rosaline from Nate the Great- but when I was 13-14, I absolutely LOVED Emily- I think I still have some of the T-shirts and socks and whatnot. She embodied everything that I already was somehow, a loner, a bitch, a scientist, and an animal lover. But I never quite had the money to buy all her things, and as commercialism set in, and Reger gained more and more success, I became estranged from the whole thing in the way that you stopped shopping at Hot Topic when you realized that they were selling jeans and internet meme tank tops. But I think I was wrong. It was my apathy, ironically a trait that Emily and her ink encouraged, that led to my subculture's downfall. It is for this reason, among others, that I present to you my newest patterns, for free, as thanks for all of you being there with me- watching the rise and fall of our outer selves, who may want to do something about it, to preserve our culture, if nothing else, then for our children- so that when they watch Repo Madness, they know that a distopia is nearly upon us; and we saw it coming.
But that doesn't mean that I disrespect someone because it is their thing. But it does raise a question- how do you go swimming? If your goal is to cover everything, including your curves (many of these ladies are so modest that they won't wear anything form fitting even if it covers them head to toe) then that rules out even a swimsuit. So I looked it up and found that many modest women simply don't swim. Those that do, however, wear a swimsuit remniciant of the one that Sweeny Todd is wearing in By the Sea. Those things are AWESOME. I mean, they seriously are really pretty.
Alright- now, here's my first bitch. Where the hell did my subculture go? Where is everyone I used to know and love. From personal aquantinces, who I now only see over Facebook, who made high school bearable and college fucking great, are gone from my everyday experiences as we float through adulthood in veils of misery that are completely devoid of parties that started at one person's house and spilled over then entire apartment complex, where we would critique the paint-by-number Last Supper my brother got me, with all the symbolism of the one on the wall in Europe, the curoscuro that the copycat got right- to the famous artists who inspired me to create; Miyamoto's in retirement, Vasquez is- WTF is Mr. Scolex doing, directing live action or some shit?- McFarlane hasn't put out a decent comic since SPAWN- no more NightMares & FairyTales, no more Gloom Cookie, or Johnny, everything seems a shell of it's former self. I refuse to believe that this is because we've grown up. We still play Zelda, Pokemon continues to fly off the shelf, Miyazaki is still amazing. But we haven't seen anything new and original and gritty like, say, Maxx in ages. What are we doing? 
