Fucking everything, one goat at a time!

goat-fucking

K’atun 4, The End of the 13th B’ak’tun, and Same as it ever was!

 

Time_Zone_MapSo as I sit writing this we are two hours away from 13.0.0.0. the end of the b’ak’tun or whatever. People are still shell shocked over the psychotic eruption of a desperate kid last Friday that brought a tiny apocalypse to a small town. For the people of Newton the end of the world has already happened. These micro-pocalypses are increasing, building and rolling toward something that could possibly be all encompassing. This of course would be the fear of Doomsayers and Doomsday-Preppers. There are those who fear the fury of the sun, magnetic pole shifts, great disaster, or asteroids. Like a hundred Chicken Little’s running around screaming that the sky is falling. Without a doubt one day the sky will fall. But no amount of preparation is going to save you when it does. Modern humans have confused real life with entertainment. They believe that there will be a time for them to become the heroes, the action star. Narrowly escaping near death and saving the girl. They believe they can just preform a perfect barrel roll and escape the explosion unscathed. There are also those who believe they’re intelligence and their invented explanations will save them. They will understand the beast into submission. This too is a fallacy.

There are those who consider ourselves to be End-Time Enthusiast, who spend our free time pouring over apocalyptic cultures, reading and studying ancient prophecy’s and tales of the end of the world. Yet as we sit here life continues. Life does not stop no matter the population or species that inhabits any given world in any given fashion. close to 50,000 species a year disappear from the earth yet life continues on. Most don’t even know this and half that do, don’t even care. It’s nothing new. Even if the Earth stopped spinning and shattered into a million pieces, life would still go on  existing throughout the universe both known and unknown. There is some debate about what our universe consist of. The scientist see only the molecules while the religiously devote see only the spirit. One the seen one the unseen. The two are not exclusive despite what their adherents say. The two forces have been referred to by many names; Order Chaos, Love and Hate, Life and Death, but the most simplest name of the diametrically opposed forces which constitute the nature of the universe may be Is and Is not. December 21st 2012 does not hold the end to that, for there is no end.

The current enthusiasm for this particular End-Time, comes from the perfect storm of desire and marketing. There are two people excited for midnight; the people who are tired of the world as it is, and those making money off them. There is a third and forth type of person but they are not as excited. They’re the Naysayers who exist on the outside as judge and jury to both parties, and there is the indifferent who are oblivious to anyone involved. The indifferent are the smallest minority. This particular prophecy has pervaded popular culture thanks to fact that we’re all strung together with invisible wires. We sit in hives silently looking out at the world through screens our fingers clacking mechanically in-between sips on our Meso-American coffee beans. Half us Hoping the Mayans are right the other half hoping to exploit that hope. Funny thing is we are all just fools. No one is certain that these calendars have even been read correctly. We have limited knowledge of what they had in mind and what they meant. Spanish priest saw to that. This prophecy is gleaned from but one of the four remaining codices. Archeologist are not even in unanimous agreement about what they mean.

OuroborosThis is just one thing though. The desire remains, even without it for those that are truly over it. The pressure from such a bloated consumerist society. A society driven in many different directions by a million screaming voices, breeds the bloody chaos we witness when we tune into what the monster is feeding us. The Ouroboros is complete, thank you Ernst Förstemann! The most important thing they got right is that time is circular, we are moving in a loop. If you find anything new under the sun I trust you to keep it to yourself, less it become sullied instantly. If you listen to those trying to make money of this current apocalypse, then the end of the world immediately means death and destruction. Now why those things are always present they do not constitute the end of the world. Even at the most loosest interpretations of Mayan prophecy the end of the long count calendar simply means start over. The supposed visions of the future predicted in the 4th K’atun are even understated. Claiming we will live in age of enlightenment and global social change. We will enter a dark age that will be lifted after a period. There are those that feel this meant we are going to be destroyed as previous civilizations have been destroyed. Still that does not end all life.


Calling in from the fifth wall

Calling in from the fifth wall.

The lord Zed figurine of plastic darkness, angler on the lake of sorrow, measured in half by what he owed. Called forth tonight from the Himalayas. There wasn’t much we could do, but try and process the ghost. I’m getting eaten alive right now. I can feel the hurt from the inside seeping out to my pour and I need a cleansing. I need to be free from this hurt and I’m not talking about dying. I’m sure there is a name for it in some language that I have forgotten through time. MY mind is not what it used to be so you must forgive me. I see the sun set in the east and the west but never see it rise. I keep thinking to myself; how long did Buddha sit under that tree for. It’s not a very good model. This day and age we expect speed even with our enlightenment. That’s not how it’s done the universe keeps reminding me. I’m sure I will forget as soon as the drugs the aliens gave me where off. They fill you with hallucinogens while they perform their experiments on you. It’s not like they need the data it’s just for fun. They get bored waiting for us to evolve. Unfortunately that’s not going to happen in my life time. Unless you count the genetic modifications we make to ourselves trying to hurry evolution itself.

There are those who would contend that self modification is a form of evolution but I don’t agree totally. It is and it isn’t. I mean on the most basic premise and understanding of evolutionary theory it is, but in actual proven evolution it’s debatable. Humans have evolved, but now it’s the quite time when man is not visibly transforming. It’s happening all around you and it’s not over. I know I shouldn’t care about what you’re doing right now but I do. I care a lot and it’s making me cry that you haven’t called me. My heart was broken before this song came on. Somewhere out there I know there is someone waiting for me, but truth is I probably already pissed them off already thinking about you too much. Movement is limited in the heart but the city is big and so is the stated and the country is even bigger. Distance cannot fill the void though. Travel cannot reclaim the time spent and the years lost. I’m too old to find myself and too young to lose myself again. I am aware of who and what I am the blood is there in the soil and it want wash away.

There is an access point between worlds where we can see everything. And when I say everything I mean everything (Past, present, future, what could have been, what would have been, and beyond). The universe opens up like a flower there and the dawn is always just beyond the horizon. Not very fun to live in a place where everything is there but just out of reach, and where heaven is not a place where nothing ever happens. This is a false heaven and one must seek the land where change is infinite and undying. Where the unbridled life of chaos and disorder are mere molecules of love and hate; distilled for the enjoyment of others. “Speaks so clearly”, it says. None such luck Jack, the tongue gets tied up in the head of one so alone. I once lay dormant thriving on the unexpected. The machine elves drilled holes in my head but not to let the demons out. They put them in and locked them up with me. Up on that mountain I went to find enlightenment. Tried getting a Zen then had to learn a new Zen (Figured out about ten-by now). My rocket ship fits a lot.

As thinking the other day about how we were all just soul carriers. Not just of our own souls, but those around us, and those who have come before us. I’m sure there are others who have and still do feel this way. We express it differently and I have yet to find a proper name for it. Times are changing and things always need rearranging. I want to walk off into the sunset like a good cowboy/samurai. Yet their meanings are lost in time and the truth about cowboys and samurai is not a glorious as there Hollywood descriptions.

 

Not so Sincerely,

Dr. Nihilist

Aka

Fucktard General


DESTROYERS OF THE WORLD UNITE!

I’m just going to quit apologizing for not updating this blog enough. It seems every time that I do I get even more behind. Let’s just say that sometimes real life gets in the way of internet life and because of that we make sacrifices. With that said I would like to point out that I have not forgotten the mission statement of Goatfuckers.com or the entire Goatfucker nation. In an effort to boost moral I may direct you two tumblr pages that I somehow mange to keep on top of Armada Out-Post 606 and Die Making Love to a Horse. I have few rants keyed up but their stuck in editorial phases right now, as soon as there sussed out I’ll post them. In the meantime I have also begun work on musical project that ties into all this, it’s working title is Suicidal Dream Lords. We’ll see if it manifest anytime soon, but remember you heard it here first! The deafening chant of the SDL will be DESTROYERS OF THE WORLD UNITE! Tell your friends!

 


2012 Disaster Culture on the rise!

First off we would like to thank the good Doctor for lending us a hand while we were taking care of more pressing matters (like keeping a roof over our heads). I’m sure there are those of you out there who weren’t sure what to make of his left-handed path, or his calls to Midnight Ravers. Well, good, you should stay confused. Confusion is the key.

You can’t tell the woman from the man
No, I say you can’t, ’cause they’re dressed in the same pollution
Their mind is confused with confusion
With their problems since they’ve no solution:
They become the midnight ravers.

So there you have it! Any other questions you have for the Good Doctor can be directed at the man himself when he returns and trust me he will return.

In the meantime the Disaster Culture movement that we began in 2009 (earlier IRL, but for sake of arguing will go back to when we started this little blog), from movies to television shows everyone seems to be joining the cult of extinction. You all want to be End-Time Enthusiast! Zombies are this years Vampires, but they’re all equally undead.  We all feel everyone else is the walking dead. The build up to 2012 felt a lot like the pre-millinal tension that led up to the year 2000, only darker and more hopeless. Everyone appears to be seeing that the truth we goat-fucking idiots have long been trumpeting; that there is no light at the end of the tunnel. NBC is advertising it’s new Thursday night as the last comedies you will see before the end of the world! The world is ending-have a cocktail! Disaster fashion is seeping up from the sewers into the main stream. Doomsayer tunes have invaded the ears of the “normal” world. A new Grand Theft Auto is coming out! Politics (which have always been about disaster and doom) have trended to the extra-dark, proclaiming every budget deadline the end of everything as we know it. As the world outside of America awakens and revolts, Americans squeak out a meager attempt at socioeconomic rage, in the pitiful hash-tag movement in which a group of out-of-work college students camp together in public spaces while playing the latest Elder Scrolls on their Mac Air laptops.


Dr. Nihilist and the Left handed Path

Greetings and salutations my Midnight Ravers,

 

Live transmission from the satellite heart; coming in for a landing somewhere on the other side of nothing. Peering in and pealing back the curtain, the Dr. arrives late but always on time. Like the divine baby Horus, “I have spoken with your name”. Watching from my forth eye which grows inside the retina of the third, I have seen the machinations of the machine elves that live in the heart of the beast.  In 1973 I was initiated into the Order of the Serpent by Mr. Harold Ramis (of Ghostbusters fame). I learned that when the Earth descended into the third dimension and the Planetary Logos entered a new cycle of experience, humans reached their zenith in polar consciousness. To this day the cycle of opposites and the feeling of separation have prevailed.

So much has happened since Shambhala and Agartha have guided my hand, but really nothing has changed. Why are you children surprised when the beast bites you? Why are shocked when it tramples people beneath its hooves? Why have you not known this? The clouds have long been gathered. Sight beyond sight is not needed. Defenders of Dharma wait in the halls, in these crazy times, these, wild days, these same old days. I see the two camps that are one camp with two faces. One group sits with ruffled feathers in towers made of glass. The other stands in judgment from towers made of Ivory. They argue over the blood of the fallen.

I come on like baby Horus all snakes and garland! Throwing tantrums on the backs of the dead!

I see the enemy out my window; they tease me and taunt me with thick juicy steaks and mouth-watering burgers. Leafy green goodness is my only shield. And the tonic! Ohh, that sweet elixir that gets me there. For interstellar calls home, I use the homes of these little blue woodland imps, or chemical reactions honed by wizards.  In the time of the Fear of Death, we need an undead hero. Halloween year round, conquer the fear by staring at zombies reanimated, taking it to the streets.

O nobly-born (so-and-so), listen. Now thou art experiencing the Radiance of the Clear Light of Pure Reality. Recognize it. O nobly-born, thy present intellect, in real nature void, not formed into anything as regards characteristics or colour, naturally void, is the very Reality, the All-Good.

With Vested Intrest,

Dr. Nhilist


The Good Doctor Returns!

The Return of Dr. Nihilist

It is uncertain whether the good Dr. (as he is known) is a real person, or several people. He is an online persona that has existed before the internet. A Meta figure who contacted me through the mail back when I used to print a zine in the days when zines were cool. According to his resume he was born in either Minneapolis, Florida, or Minnesota, Ohio. He was raised by barracudas on the south shore of Indonesia or possibly just a construct made up of three different psychopathic murders by ancient alien design. Either way he was educated at all the finest community colleges in the south-east from College Park Maryland to College Park, Louisiana. He drives a one of a kind Racing Mini Cooper, equipped with nitro and a roll bar.

                He (or she, or they) first contacted me when I was in high school and began transmitting what can only be called as the first transmissions. Strange cryptic ramblings that expelled no belief system or ideology. He spewed forth his venom in many hand typed letters that helped for what would become Rant and Rave, and into that The Royal Monkee Armada. He claimed to be raised on a steady diet of drugs and alcohol and fed into a life-machine that taught him the secret operating skills of Venusian Masters. His face was never seen. He/It commanded a loyal following on the green lettered BBS boards of the day.  In 1998 he disappeared. It was rumored he married a white/Asian in Cambodia and moved to Vietnam where he only spoke Thai and practiced his black medicine in the jungle. There he honed his craft to protect the president from an army of Sunlit Vampires. Some writings serviced during this time under the name 3 times 3 that folks in the know claim was the Good Doctor.

This is copy of his first transmission I received back in 1994;

The midnight rider has come again. Midnight is on the rise. Dig the hip speech keeping it fresh for ya! “His Madness kept him sane.” The topic this day is everything open discussion time, So sit back and change,

 

Is it not wise for a man to ally himself with those who could do him harm. Why make enemies with someone you have no hope of defeating, a wise man once said “keep your friends close and your enemies closer”. In building an anti-empire it would be smart to gather together those who could best benefit your goals. I chose to keep company with people who have the potential to be powerful. Those who have intellect, prudence, strength and the means in which to accomplish my goals.

What are these goals you may ask? I hope to liberate everyone from normality. To break the cycle of life: get up, go to work, so you can make money, so you can buy food, so you can have energy, to get up, go to work…ect. I want to see everyone free from having to do anything. I want to see people doing only what they choose. That is my idea of true freedom. I want to see monetary form destroyed. I would like to see mass production end and a return to the trade system.  I would like to see weapon production ended and all means of restarting it eliminated. I would like to see peoples co-dependency on government (local, state, and federal) abolished. I would like Anarchy. For those things to come about, the public would have to dramatically change its views. Give up its religion. Give up its wealth and cushy life. It would have to be hardened by something harsh and rough. It would have to be burned.

And the only thing I could see that could burn a people already scarred by daily images of violence and inhumanity is a violent revolution. A sweeping madness that will change everything by destroying it. The public will not willingly give up its lifestyle; therefore it must be stripped of it. And who better to do that than those who do not have these things. And who better to lead them than those who do not want it.

Now in this time of social unrest, the Good Doctor returns. Thanks to the power of social media, I am proud to announce that we will once again be publishing the misunderstood ramblings of the maddest bastard this side of the Rio Grande. With the code words Barble Far, “Houston-we have go!”. Soon and very soon those of you who don’t know-will know!

 


Al Bundy gets Walk of Fame star

Flanked by his two television wives Katey Sagal (Peg), and Sofia Viagra (some show hes on now), the founder of No’Mam has received his long overdue star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Christina Applegate was also on hand no word if Grandmaster B. was int he crowd unable to get past the velvet rope! O’Neil said he almost didn’t accept the honor because he was too fucking cool, but his 11 year-old daughter convinced him other wise by telling him he would be crazy not to. I don’t know what’s more impressive, that the 65 year-old actor has a 11 year-old or that he takes advice from her! The Bundy patriarch has long been revered in Goatfucker circles, but now he is finally being recognized by the lame stream media! We await the Queen Peggy’s star next!(via)USAToday


The King Mob and I

Okay, it’s been over a week now since I met one of my heroes and idols Grant Morrison at a book signing in L.A. and I think I’ve finally processed it enough to write about it. For those who don’t know who that is; Grant Morrison is in my opinion the most prolific and greatest writer of all time. You can argue about that if you want and trust me many people have tried. You can claim that Alan Moore’s Watchmen, or Frank Miller’s Dark Knight, makes them the greatest comic book writers, and if you only judged on sales then you’d still be wrong because Morrison’s Arkham Asylum has outsold both of those and remains in the New York Times top 100, 20 years after it was published. You can argue that Grant Morrison is more of a fringe writer and that his stories are too confusing and all over the board. To that I would just look at you like you were stupid and pat you on your empty head. My love of Grant Morrison does not stem from his work on DC’s 52, or Final Crisis, it does not come from reading his All-Star Superman (the greatest Superman story ever told), or his six years on Batman (the best six years the 70+ year old character has ever had), no; my love for Grant Morrison comes from the work he is arguably most known for-The Invisibles.

The Invisibles was a seven year creator owned (published under DC’s Vertigo imprint), odyssey that chronicles the journey of the next Buddha from boyhood to adulthood, with a band of anarchist/ontological terrorist fighting the ultimate good fight in the war between Order and Chaos. It is also a giant magickal sigil that affected everyone who truly read it and the man who wrote it. It affected me profoundly when I first picked up the seven page preview back in 1993. In 1994 when the book came out I lost my mother to Cancer, and began my long journey through drug abuse, punk rock culture, and in 1996 I formed an Invisible cell of my own. I had gotten into LSD pretty heavily, selling it and taking it almost daily. I was going to punk shows, and straight from there to raves throughout the Southeast. I gathered a wild eclectic band of young freaks and geeks with whom I turned onto the book. We read each issue over and over religiously. Devouring every word he wrote.

After a particularly long week of ingesting acid we decided it would be a great idea to construct a bomb. We were hapless armatures who thought we knew more than we did because we had read the Anarchist cook book. We weren’t completely out of it, we knew that what we constructed was not actually capable of exploding but it looked real, and we wanted to use it. After a short deliberation we picked a place-Hanes Mall-the largest mall between Maryland and Atlanta. We had resented the structure for various personal infractions, but more or less because we felt like it was drain on our area’s burgeoning youth culture. It was the thing that sucked the soul out of the city and when the mall closed at 10 the entire town shut down. It had to be taught a lesson. With haste we devised a plan and set our convincing fake inside a bathroom to await discovery. To quicken the pace I placed a call into the police and the local news station.

After some sloppiness on our part we were ratted out by one of our own, and captured four days later. My cell was comprised of kids each under 18 years old so they were given one year probation, while I was the ripe old age of 19 so I received a Federal Felony. I got 3 years probation plus six months on house arrest and another six in a half-way house. I continued to devour acid and drink like a fish, until I racked up four violations and a healthy rap sheet. After my forth probation violation I received an additional 8 months this time in a Federal Penitentiary on the side of a mountain in Ohio. There the series came winding down to its end and my journey as well transformed into so much more than I had ever dreamed. Once free I began this awesome track across the United States, first to Atlanta, then to New York, back to Atlanta.  From there I moved to St. Louis, Oakland, and finally ended up here in San Francisco, where the King Mob character from the book had an ex girlfriend that he called once when he thought he was dying.

Throughout the book I felt I was intertwined in the story, from early on the discoveries of Jack Frost within the 2D paged became my discoveries in real life. I fought the law, danced into the night with drag queens, and fell into a world of ancient magick and mysticism that has followed me every day since.  There are many people in my life that I credit with making me the man I have become; Ian McCaye from Minor Threat/Fugazi, Jeff Joyce my mentor when I was first entering the world of punk rock, my mother, my grandmother, and Grant Morrison. I had met all my heroes and idols, except for Grant up until July 28th. When I met him a cycle of supplication has ended. I felt after I shook his hand and told him my story that I was now free. Whatever happens from here on out is up to me. The Invisible’s has been over for 11 years now. It was time I stepped out of its shadow and began to cast one of my own.

I had no idea when I left SF for LA on Jun 1st that I was going to be able to actually see my hero in person. I had heard that he had a place in LA and split his time between there and Glasgow (Scotland). So I preformed one of the rituals I learned from the letters pages of The Invisibles. A process called sigil magick, were you write down a request from the universe and remove the consonants leaving only the vowels. You then take the vowels and arrange them into an almost unrecognizable pattern forming a singular symbol from the letters. You then fixate on the sigil and most masturbate upon it to give it some kind of sex magick power. I have done that, but I have found when I really want something I consume it. So instead of jerking off on the piece of paper I crumpled it up and ate it. When I arrived in Los Angeles I went to see an old friend of mine who runs a theatre in the back of a comic shop. After hugging and getting over the initial excitement seeing each other after some time, she informed me that Grant would be in the store promoting a book of his. The spell had worked; I lied on the floor briefly in disbelief.

I had nearly the entire two months I was there to wait. I idled the time away sightseeing and meeting people, having adventures and sitting quietly in my rented room wondering what it was I was going to say to the man who had shaped so much of my life. I debating on whether or not to give him some of my writings, or show him some of my sketches, I thought about if I should tell him about my cell, or just mention that I had a letter published in the back of The Invisibles back in 1996. I agonized over these decisions like one would agonize over whether or not to shoot someone. I weighed the pros and cons and tried my best to see ever possible outcome. In the end when the moment came I decided to simple tell him my story and thank him for what he had done. It was beyond words. I fretted and worried the entire evening. Through his interview by My Chemical Romances Gerard Way, thought he Q & A period and the entire time I milled around with the other store employees who had become my friends over the two months, awaiting my turn to speak with the Master.

It’s hard to describe the feeling of nervousness and elation that being around him brought to me. To me he is more than just a comic book creator, or writer. He is more than just a guy who wrote some kick ass book, this is a man who for all intents and purposes wrote my personal bible. He gave me visions that would rival and Christian hallucinations and set me on this course to living out my ultimate dreams. Now I know it doesn’t look like it, I am 33 and yet to be published. I have spent so many years wallowing in alcohol and self-doubt. I had taken myself up and down the highways of America in search of the awakening of my own Buddha-hood. I’ve found a lot of things on my journey, but I have yet to transform into a being of pure light and reach Parinirvana. But I can now say that I’ve met Grant Morrison.

 

—————-
Now playing: The Durutti Column – Otis
via FoxyTunes


All of this could be your’s if the Price is Right!

If you know anything about me, you know that I have more than a few obsessions. I watch wrestling like it’s my job, I swear by the restorative properties of Whiskey, and treat Peanut Butter as if it’s the only food in the world worth a damn. I also have remained faithfully obsessed with a band called The Mountain Goats for over ten years now. What you may not know about me is that for the first 30 years of my life on this Earth, I was also heavily obsessed with The Price is Right. Blame my grandmother for that one, but every since I was knee-high, to a grasshopper’s ass, I sat with my grandmother during summer vacation, and religiously worshiped at the altar of Bob Barker. After she passed away it became even more of an obsession even, I even forced others to join my religion while incarcerated on the side of a mountain in Ohio for eight months. I converted scores of inmates to both my cult of Bob and the WWE (then the WWF). As a kid I would joke with my grandmother about what I would do if I were ever on The Price is Right. I would talk about how bidding $1 was the secret key. Well on Thursday June 23rd 2011, eleven years since my grandmother was here on this planet with me, I get my chance. I have been warned that I will have to line up at 2:30 A.M. to insure a spot, but I plan on getting there even earlier. I will spend the 24 hours prior boning up on my price knowledge for lawn mowers and campers. I will study what I need to do to get selected to come on down. This will be a mission for Nanny and all those hours we spent together. Although Bob Barker will not be present, I know that my Nanny’s spirit will be with me. And as if that wasn’t a holy experience enough for one day, later that night I will see my beloved Mountain Goats live and in person, so ever close to the former home town of the maestro himself John Darnielle! I feel like I may burst out of my skin and turn into a being of pure light before Thursday. I pray I can contain myself.


Mr. Six will rape you in so many ways!

I wonder if Grant Morrison is thinking about me as much as I’m thinking about him today. Probably not since he doesn’t know me, but in some parallel universe we are best friends so (cross your fingers).  Earlier today I woke up thinking about one of my favorite characters in The Invisibles; Mr. Six. I was thinking about him not as Big Malkie, or the smooth operating member of  Division X, no, no, I was thinking about who Mr. Six was based on. The incomprehensible Peter Wyngrade! Who played the character Jason King in the short lived British television series of the same name. He was a foppish dandy of a secret agent working for the mysterious Department S. It’s a quite a complex and headed story especially for its time. It involved a guy writing about a guy, while also kinda of being the guy he was writing about and the duality or would that be tri-ality of the fantastic adventures the character would get into while researching material for the character he was creating. Yeah I know it sounds loopy and it is in all the right ways. No wonder it inspired Gran Morrison. The thing is Peter Wyngrade himself was quite a character.  He was the son of a British Diplomat and a French mother. Spent his childhood in 5 different countries and even spent a few years in a Japanese concentration camp in Shanghai! He was on the Prisoner and was climbing up the ladder of success when in 1975 he got busted doing something in a public bathroom that people tend to frown on. What ever the guy also made some insane spoken word type albums that seem like they either inspired William Shatner or were inspired by him who knows. I mean Shat-Rock-Diesel possibly drowned his wife, and we still love him! And George Micheal still made a few kick ass songs right! That’s neither here nor there! The fact is that This dude is bad ass and makes songs about shit no one should ever make songs about! Check It!

 

—————-
Now playing: Peter Wyngarde – “Rape”
via FoxyTunes


Timewave Zero, Novelty Theory, Lybia, and Charlie Sheen

Since I was young I have been fascinated with apocalyptic theories, I have read and re-read every Robert Anton Wilson Book, I have delved deep into ancient and mystic text, and spent countless hours over analyzing the works of US philosopher Terrence McKenna. For those unfamiliar Timewave theory it was developed by McKenna, who studied the “Book of Changes” or the “I Ching” (one of the oldest Chinese books ). I Ching is a Chinese system formed from 64 hexagrams determined by two lines (commonly known in the West) as yin and yang.Despite being the go-to choice for tattoo flash at Daytona beach throughout the 1990s. McKenna theorizes that the I Ching may have initially been used as a calendar system. By studying the ancient writings, he conceived a numerological formula through which was assigned an I Ching symbol to each major event that took place in History. McKenna noticed that around the year 2012, the coincidence of events ( that can occur ) is a lot bigger. He hypothesized that around the winter solstice in 2012, civilization would be the subject to some major change. This coincided with theories already circulating on the Mayan calendar; particularly centering around the end of the 13th b’ak’tun of the Mayan calendar. Most specialists that studied the theory believe that McKenna misinterpreted the I Ching oracle, and that his study was incorrect.

Weather or not you buy McKenna’s right or not, it is obvious, and has been obvious for sometime that something is happening. The increased in cycles of “novelty” the rapid succession that world-wide events are unfolding, be it catastrophic weather patterns, global upheaval throughout the Middle east, Asia and Europe. Even in America there is civil unrest and discontent by various sides depending on perspective. There feels like a condensing of time. This may or may not be true. It could all be delusions of a few drug addled men and women. It could be the collective hallucination of a species that has sense it’s inception sought out confound itself with beliefs and dogma that (as far as we know) does not exist in other animals. My love of end-time, apocalyptic cults is rivaled only by my love of comic books and professional wrestling! I love our current age of disposable deities and fleeting celebrity worship. Faster than a season of American Idol can keep up with the information age gives us weekly idols, monthly Gods, daily heroes to worship. This in a sense brings up the question of how sacred can something be when it is only temporary. The answer of course is that everything is temporary and nothing is stable, therefore nothing is sacred and all things are in a since novelty.I believe it is necessary and healthy and that the ease in which the snake is now shedding its skin and being reborn only completes the cycle. Although the cycle is never truly complete and the war never ends.

—————-
Now playing: The Black Angels – Call to Arms
via FoxyTunes


Rape is still Rape in Rapeville!

When I started this blog it was supposed to be an outlet for my worst ideas, my sickest thoughts and disturbed fantasies. I wanted to scrape the underbelly for shit’s and giggles (Lulz). But, never in a million years of talking about fucking the shit out of Betty White or praising the devilish sainthood of Don King could I imagine the horrible shit that republicans manifest in real life. I can be pretty depraved I don’t think I’ve really scratched the surface here as I had hoped, but every time I turn on the news it seems like I keep getting trumped by reality!

A while back I worked at a Heavy Metal club in Atlanta, and the depraved, lovely, lunatics I worked with all had demented senses of humor like my own. We would often joke about rape. Not really about someones rape just using the word as an adjective where it didn’t belong. I would say things like “It’s Rape time in Rapeville” at the start of a shift. As a member of the security we each had to take turns doing pat downs, of patrons as they entered the club. This seemed even to us as something of a violation and it felt slightly rapey. Now before anyone get’s all up in arms, I know the difference between real rape and a simply security pat down, I have known many people who were raped, I once had a girlfriend raped and I know that it is no laughing matter. I have two younger sisters and have always stood up for women and used my fist for good on this front. I do not condone or support rape. My playing with the word was simply black humor (black as in dark not African-American which I happen to be), it was no different than using racist humor. I mean I joke about a lot of things that are wrong, like bestiality, murder, genocide, not that I am for any of them. Anyway I’m getting off track I just wanna say I know it was fucked up that’s what made it funny. But what the Republican dick-wads are trying to do is not funny, it is fucked up on another level. My jokes about being  “Rapey McRaperton Mayor of Rapetown Population You!” does not affect the laws that govern other people. My dark humor (to  y knowledge) has never threatened anyones life.  Yes, I have joked about eating children, but these fuckers are trying to redefine the word rape.

comes with the new Un-Happy Meal!

 

The Tea-Party backed bill, ostentatiously named the “No Taxpayer Funding for Abortion Act,” otherwise known as H.R. 3, was introduced by Rep. Chris Smith (R-NJ) in January which will make permanent the “Hyde Amendment,” which is a provision banning the use of taxpayer subsidies for abortions that now requires annual Congressional renewal. But the issue is that the Republicans had made some changes to the diction of the bill, specifically in “SEC. 309. TREATMENT OF ABORTIONS RELATED TO RAPE, INCEST, OR PRESERVING THE LIFE OF THE MOTHER,” which shows a change in wording from “rape” to “forcible rape” and a change from “incest” to “or, if a minor, an act of incest.” The act “could take statutory rape or rape during mental incapacitation or while intoxicated off the table.” Who are these d-bags  to say which rapes are “forcible” and which are not? And why is a victim of incest is only eligible for an abortion if they’re a minor? Those changes carry absolutely no legitimacy, and it’s a wonder how they ever got put into the document in the first place. Truly, no words could ever explain how floored I am. And I was once the Mayor of Rapeville!

Is this what the GOP considers forcible?

Thankfully do to public pressure and the mocking of the Daily Show, they backed down from the language change a few weeks later, but the bill is still fucked up and seeks to undo the progress made by women in gaining control of their own bodies. With the religious conviction of Taliban fighter these black-heart-ed bastards plan a ripple effect with the legislation as employers would be pushed to offer insurance plans that don’t cover the costs of abortion, because the bill would prevent them from taking tax deductions for offering any plan that does cover abortion! It’s bad enough they don’t want anyone making under $250,000 a year to even have health-care, or that they think a jobs plan is cutting millions of people out of jobs in order to “reduce the debt”, these jack-offs are giving evil a bad name in a big way. Swept into office in November to create Jobs the only thing they have done is attack jobs, Plan Parenthood, NPR, and wage war on the female reproductive system. They have fired shots at Unions and in State legislatures coast to coast sought to undermine any vaguely progressive achievements. I don’t know what to do, it seems there are enough people screaming loudly on the religious nut-job side of things that they will actually make this happen! They will push America back into the stone-age and pretty soon I will have to move to the back of the bus and start drinking from a separate water fountain again! This time though women will be right there alongside me! It’s unbelievable the lengths these pieces of shit are willing to go! In South Dakota, Nebraska and Iowa they have backed legislation that would make killing an abortion doctor “justifiable homicide”! Called the “Pregnant Woman’s Protection Act” it lock steps with a Georgia bill that could call for the death penalty if a woman even so much as miscarriages!  So get this straight ladies the republican’s will make sure you have that kid come hell or high water and when you do, you better be able to take care of it on your own without any assistance from the government, and no health care unless you get married to a Christian man who makes over $250,000 a year and owns his own small business, because we can’t afford you otherwise. Not that they’re offering an any sort of alternative if your child is born handicap do to the fact that it’s father was your father, or some midnight rapist!

 

Seriously what the fuck, I got to come up with a new shtick now because I could never be as evil as these fucks!

—————-
Now playing: Archers of Loaf – Chumming the Ocean
via FoxyTunes


Fuck If it Ain’t

I will not bore you as to why there has been a lull in post, but I will present you with two videos and leave it at that!~


Goat Horn!

Yes, I know it’s been awhile since my last post! I’m working on finding the free time and a topic worthy of Goatfucker.com! In the mean time you silly fuckers enjoy this little delight!
http://www.heaven666.org/v/46664


Fatties Eat Free!

Further proof that Arizona is the center of Hell! The world famous Heart-Attack Grill (featured on countless Travel Chanel and Food Network specials that come on in the wee hours of the night), has come up with a new add campaign that promises free food if you already weigh over 350lbs! As if Americans weren’t fat enough! This is actually funny and I’m pretty steamed that I didn’t think of it first. I say if your big-boned then roll with it! Love yourself for who you are, and the more of a glutenous pig you become the shorter your life span and the fewer meat bags it is running around this god-awful planet. Howrah for American ingenuity!  It’s too bad there isn’t a franchise of these restaurant clogging up the arteries of the rest of the country!


Trophies of War!

“I became a fucking animal. I started fucking putting fucking heads on poles. Leaving fucking notes for the motherfuckers. Digging up fucking graves. I didn’t give a fuck anymore. Y’know, I wanted—. They wanted a fucking hero, so I gave it to them. They wanted fucking body count, so I gave them body count.”

—unnamed Vietnam Veteran, quoted in Achilles in Vietnam: Combat Trauma and the Undoing of Character (New York, 1994). Reprinted in An Intimate History of Killing
.

12 US soldiers have been charged with crimes in Afghanistan that range from the killing of civilians, to keeping body parts as war trophies. In one of the most serious accusations of war crimes to emerge from the Afghanistan, the killings are alleged to have been carried out by members of a Stryker infantry brigade based in Kandahar province in southern Afghanistan. In ancient Greece and Rome, military victories were commemorated with a display of captured arms, and cultural objects, called war trophies. We’ve seen it in countless War movies; Dead Presidents comes to mind almost immediately, but then again so does the Prophecy with Christopher Walken.  You know the part where they talk about that general who kept all those body parts from the Korean War underneath his bed! Yeah it sounds sick, almost inhuman to those of us who have never experienced the trauma of war first hand. There is an entire generation that has grown up with the Afghan and Iraq Wars and has become so desensitized that these atrocities are common place. These young men in Afghanistan thought they were doing something cool. They proudly took photos of their kills. As do may others. Search online and you can find G.I.’s trading gore pics on image boards and chat sites from all over. Its almost a sociopath’s badge of honor. All of a sudden Jeffrey Dahmer, doesn’t seem so odd. He was just a soldier without a war. Perhaps all serial killers are just in need of some true field combat. This may explain the drop in reported serial killer cases over the last ten years. Their all off getting paid for their work.

During World War II, some United States soldiers mutilated dead Japanese soldiers in the Pacific theater of operations. The mutilation of Japanese  included the taking of body parts as “war souvenirs” and “war trophies”. Teeth and skulls were most commonly taken “trophies”, although other body parts were also collected. The phenomenon of “trophy-taking” was  so widespread that discussion of it was featured prominently in magazines and newspapers. Franklin Roosevelt himself was reportedly gifted a letter-opener made of a man’s arm (Roosevelt rejected the gift and called for its proper burial). The behavior was then officially prohibited by the U.S. military, which issued additional guidance as early as 1942 condemning it specifically. Although the behavior continued throughout the war in the Pacific Theater, and has resulted in continued discoveries of “trophy skulls” of Japanese combatants in American possession to this day. [1]

To me this brings back old images we learned in Jr. High History of Native Americans scalping invading settlers, or of South American headhunters. These cultures however offered up their war trophies to their various gods as tribute, there was a certain spiritual ritual associated with these atrocities that I doubt is practiced by modern military forces.  although these practices still exist in places like Africa, it is expected that American military personnel are supposed to be more civilized than this. There are strict laws and rules in place for removing anything from enemy combatants. There have been dozens of arrest of US soldiers from Iraq for taking simple things like medals and painting, money, gold, and other inanimate objects. Officially tools and instruments of war can be taken  and kept, but that is all.  The removal of personal effects can result in charges of larceny under military law. Yet as we see by this current case the practice is still in place amongst the soldiers. I mean these 12 didn’t come up with this on their own. And their commander who looked the other way even as one of them tried to blow the whistle on his platoon.

In WWII the desecration of Japanese soldiers was blamed on how the American propaganda machine had dehumanized the Japanese and portrayed them as less than human. There is something to that, the current American propaganda machine has dehumanized Muslims and portrayed them as cave dwelling subhumans whose murder is justified. The fact that Americas current enemy has been separated from a nationality to those who have a certain religious belief or geographic point of origin. We fight against a faceless enemy who could be anyone or anywhere that has sand and dark-skinned people praying to a false god that is not our own.

Wonderful Heroism! Against Dead Men!

Yet this is not simply a product of this war or any other, this is a product of war itself. Spanish artist Francisco de Goya produced a series of pen sketches during Napoleons Peninsula War in (1807-1814) depicting the horrors of that war. The practice of removing human parts as trophies existed long before then. In 1258 Genghis Khan’s grandson Hulagu captured Baghdad and slaughtered most of the inhabitants, and according to Arab historians ordered the construction of a pyramid of human skulls. In the year 1300 BC, the Egyptian king Menephta defeated the Libyans. As proof of his triumph, he brought back thirteen thousand penises the soldiers chopped off of their opposition. Japanese samurai sliced off over 2000 noses of Korean men during the 1597 invasion of Korea. They were pickled and brought to the Emperor, 400 years later they were offered back to Korea as a goodwill gesture! Sure what these young men in Afghanistan cannot be placed along the same lines. In past wars this type of behavior was condoned from the top down. Now we have rules in place. If you want to collect War trophies like in the old days you’ll have to satisfy yourself with playing Call of Duty or Gods of War on your Play Station  or XBox, where you can still collect them legally.

I couldn’t find the clip I was talking about but this will do!

—————-
Now playing: Crass – Nagasaki Nightmare
via FoxyTunes


God Bless the Rains!

The best clip ever!

You gotta love the original as well.


Disaster Culture in full effect!

Let it not be said that Goatfucker does not predict the future or dictate trends. B-Dubs4Life bitches!

—————-
Now playing: Archers of Loaf – Wrong
via FoxyTunes


Lost in /b/ullshit; My Two Weeks as a SummerFag

PedoBear

Apology’s for not posting in a few weeks, my brains been melted. I have spent the last few weeks fully immersed in the land of /b/. It’s not something I would recommend to the faint of heart or weak of stomach. It’s not the mutilated bodies or highly fucked up and illegal pictures, it’s not the extreme racism or heavy usage of the word Fag and the like, no what melted my brain was the dialog. Broken words and misspelled back speak. It was like listening to a conversation with a bunch of drunken redneck retards who never made it past the eight grade. I went in looking for a few GIFs and memes to re-post and spread a few of my own, I found a few, no such luck spreading my own creations. But it became addictive, like watching a train wreck in slow motion, I found myself on it at all times, even violating the rules and mentioning it outside the confines of 4Chan. For those of you who aren’t aware of what 4Chan is; it’s a image board where users post pictures and discuss various topics. It is primarily for fans of manga and anime, but by far it’s most popular bard is it’s random or /b/ board. It is notorious in the internet community for creating such memes as Pedo Bear (which is exactly what it sounds like), rick rolling (Clips and Gifs of 80’s R&B one hit wonder Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up”, and they also claim responsibility for introducing Tay Zonday’s “Chocolate Rain” to the world. The sites anonymous members (known as Anons) also claim to be the most elite hackers and boast a few successful stunts including hacking into Sarah Palin’s private email account. During my stay there they attacked a 11 year old girl and made her cry until her father said something stupid on her web cam and they remixed it and turned into a meme. While there is a lot to be said about that incident it’s best left alone because CONSEQUENCES WILL NEVER BE THE SAME. In reality the site seems to be populated by a bunch of kids with decent computer skills, a few have exceptional photo-shopping techniques such as X-raying; where they take a picture of a woman in a thin white shirt and make the shirt see-through. I wouldn’t mind learning that one, but good luck having anyone on the site actually share anything useful. Though posting as Anon the member’s seem to be able to recognize each others post and anyone who isn’t in their circle is rejected as a NewFag. The distinction between NewFags and OldFags seems at first arbitrary, I mean how can you tell who is new and old if no names are given? At first I believed it was the quality of post, but I left with the impression that in some way they know each other either through other social networking sites or perhaps IRL (in real life). On large thought the main community seems more obsessed with pictures of womenfolk’s breast and possibly underage girls. They seem to be mainly children themselves on average I would say the age range is between 14 and 25. Most adults should be aware of this before setting foot inside this realm. I told my girlfriend about the site and she looked at me as if I had just done something horribly wrong. Which I had, this was not a place for someone my age. I would feel extremely dirty after going into one of these threads where the OP (original poster) put up a funny picture only to find a list of questionable photos that could have my computer hauled off by the FBI if I didn’t wipe my history clean after each visit. I am a sick bastard I have no problem with the content of say Heaven666, or StileProject, and in truth I had no real beef with what they post over on /b/, but the sensibilities of a goatfucker are not those of the rest of the world. They are a group of kids who have become extremely adapt in the art of trolling. There are plenty of funny threads and amazing pictures, I got a my new Wallpaper from there and found plenty of pics to post on my tumblr account, but that just goes to mark me as a NewFag I suppose, which is why none of my own creations made it as the next spectacular meme.

The most interesting thing about /b/ is the Anon thing, most of them have a pretty strong sense of unity, and refer to themselves a /b/rothers. They often use the imaginary of a Guy Faux mask ala Alan Moore’s legendary V for Vendetta. Though most of them are so young they probably saw the movie first, where as I am so old I remember picking up the book when it was on the shelves for the first time. More original imagery of a black and white suit with no head or hands is used as well. That particular image is my favorite and represents more of my own Anarchistic political leanings. In theory the site could be very powerful and perhaps a few years back it was. It began in 2003 after all and over the years has garnered a few mainstream media attention. Which of course brings its own flock of look-y-loos and hangers-on, so the site is probably somewhat watered down, with the Jessie Slaughter event being a prime example.

Anon

A few nights later a few members bandied around the idea of targeting someone actually worth their harassment like Glenn Beck. After several half-assed threads trying to ascertain his personal information nothing happened and it went away. While the memes of the 11 year old girl they tortured persisted. I thankfully stayed out of anything even related to this, simply because I feel picking on children is a bit too far once you are no longer a child yourself. I was hoping the Glenn Beck campaign would have taking flight since I hate him soooooo much, I would have gladly taken a active roll in decimating his life, but as one poster mentioned he probably has enough security that at best we would only be ruining the day of some poor security guard who already had the unfortunate job of protecting the biggest asshole in the world. There is hope though a few threads sprang up after the event that suggest true members lay low and let the NewFags and what they call SummerFags (kids only on during summer break when they don’t have a bed time) go away. If the strategy works /b/ could be back to a more radical and enlightened state by September, but I won’t hold my breath. I really wish when I was a kid I would have found something like this to waste my time on, instead I was too busy out having friends and all kinds of crazy adventures. I didn’t even own a computer of my own until I was in my twenty’s , so alas I will never be able to tri-force.

—————-
Now playing: Black Flag – Room 13
via FoxyTunes


Now You too Can Be The Goblin King

fucking jack-off!

Okay! Where to begin…? Annoying jack ass screaming at me-check. A bunch of pony-tailed street jugglers thinking this is their big break-check! Stupid Emo chick obviously reading from Que cards-check! A bunch of dumb random people clearly confused about how to say the name-check! Crazy old lady pledging to buy the product for her grandson she never sees and is actually 21 and hooked on meth-check! Oh and the bullshit product you promise will change everything in the viewers sad and pathetic life-check and double check!  What the fuck is going on here! For $19.95 I can be just like David Bowie in Labyrinth! Seriously? These assholes want us to think this is some kind of new “magic” ball that will “confuse” your friends. Chances are if you sitting around playing with balls you either don’t have any friends or you have the wrong kind of friends. This horrible new commercial is on like thirty times a night! I can’t take it anymore, it’s so fucking load, I’m way too high for this shit at three in the morning. The sad thing is I bet this stupid shit catches on. Even though they are not “new”, and you can’t just pick them up and use them, it takes years to learn how to preform contact juggling (which is what it is).  But because people are sad and lonely, and the jack-offs with extra money to blow always spends it on dumb shit like this. I mean the last dumb late night infomercial that annoyed me this much was this dumb piece of crap-and I actually see people using these in real fucking life.

Those weren’t even Bowie’s hands, he’s got much better shit to do than learn stupid juggling tricks-like banging Iman!

—————-
Now playing: Hank Williams Sr. – Half As Much
via FoxyTunes


Geekers’ Of the World Unite (and take over)

On the 4th of July I was wasted in Delores Park eating an assortment of THC filled chocolate products. I got so hammered I reverted to my old habit of eating glass. I smashed a rolling rock bottle on the ground and began to chow down, before my better half stopped me from embarrassing her in front of her law school classmates. I didn’t care so much I was high as a kite and we stumbled home and passed out before the fireworks even started. While I was on the West Coast showing off my geeking ability, on the other side of the country the King of sucking down wieners; Kobayashi was  being arrested for storming a stage that is rightfully his. The seven time champ who has lost the last four years to American glutton Joey Chestnut, after he was denied entry into the annual contest for not signing with the devil. The devil in this instance is MLE (Major League Eating), who now run most major eating competitions. But if Kobi would sign with them, then he would be ineligible to compete in contest not sanctioned by the MLE. Which doesn’t sound like a big deal, but if all you do is go around and eat then you want to be able to eat whenever you like for who ever you like and not for some bullshit organization that seeks to homogenize and dominate what should be a fun little non-sport.  Wearing a Free Kobi shirt as if he fully prepared to be arrested Kobi stormed the stage at the end of the contest followed by chants of “Let him Eat!” from his supporters in the crowd. He claims he only wanted to congratulate Chestnut but was bumrushed by Nathans Hot Dog Security and the NYPD. Yes Nathans has it’s own Hot Dog Security force. Which should be put to use protecting people from it’s awful hot dogs. I only ate one and puked it up an hour later. Granted I was hammered drunk and went on a few rides after-wards, but still, I can eat wood, metal and glass but a Nathans Hot Dog makes me puke! You be the judge.  The “Tsunami” was released the following day, but it looks like he will be facing some charges and possible jail time for his stunt, hopefully he if he goes to Rikers his wiener chomping powers won’t be put to the test!

—————-
Now playing: Boogie Down Productions – Elementary
via FoxyTunes


The Spirit of Succession Lives On!

Recently while on a pilgrimage to see one of the greatest bands in the universe; I had the privilege of driving through (what I was unaware of at the time) Americas unofficial 51st state. “51st state?” you ask! Yes there is a hidden state between Northern California and Southern Oregon called Jefferson.  “Why hadn’t I heard about this state?” I’m sure you’re asking yourself. I asked the same question. Why hadn’t you heard of it! It was only formed in 1941! Yes it started the same year Pearl Harbor was bombed and America entered WWII (for the history buffs). I never heard of it until I drove past a barn with Jeffersonstate.com painted on the roof.  So I looked it up and it turns out these guys were pretty serious-back in 1941! They held up cars with shot guns to pass out there Proclamation of Independence”, basically they were a bunch of farmers that wanted the roads in their area improved, but when the war started they dropped their guns and fell in line, then when Obama got elected they got pissed off again and wanted to be they’re on state. They have a blog that claims to reach millions yet has only three entries (the last of which was in February).  They also have a YouTube site with informative videos explaining how their plight is based more on California’s rising debt and Oregon’s unemployment, but if you visit their blog it seems to be more about Obama not having a birth certificate than any particular grievance. I’m all for political independence, I am first and foremost a fucking anarchist, but this whole “Tea Party/Libertarian” resurgence thing that’s going on just seems so racially motivated that it’s sickening. Perhaps it’s because my skin is brown that I can’t come to grips with the fact that now everyone is a gun toting conspiracy believer. I was into a lot of these theories of “one world government” when I was in high school, I was up on all the militia movement and radical theories before they were cool, but now it seems that the people that are all about fighting the government only want to fight it because someone is in power that doesn’t look like them. I mean seriously how come none of these puritans stood up to fight when George Bush led us into a false war, or any of the other countless bullshit crap that the previous administration was pulling? Where was the anger and revolution for the last ten years? Now all of a sudden people want to pick up arms and revolt? It just seems a little bogus to me. Would these same people be ready to succeed from the union if John McCain and Sarah Palin were elected? The State of Jefferson has its roots in a different time though so they can claim a pre-Tea Baggers right to revolt. They were mad at the federal government for not doing enough to help them extract the natural wonders from the land Yay! But, the name of their state was determined from a newspaper contest, in which the winner was awarded a whopping $2, which I’m sure was big money back then.


—————-
Now playing: Jim Morrison – The World on Fire
via FoxyTunes


New Meaning to Dinosaur Rock

We’re going to have to start column called HOLY FUCKING SHIT! or NO FUCKING WAY! Somewhere to put the absurd shit we find on the inter-webs. Today we stumbled across a bunch of dinosaurs playing old school heavy metal in Finnish. No seriously!

The head-banging Barney’s in these suits are actually member’s of Dio, and Sonata Arctica! Fantasy Metalist from the frozen tundra with names like Riffi-Raffi, Muffi Puffi, Milli Pilli, and Komppi Momppi! They’re called Hevisaurus, which in English sounds like Heave-a-saurus, meaning they make me want to puke. They sing songs about popular Finnish children stories and of course are hugely popular-IN FINLAND! While Finland needs no help in spreading metal (it’s damn near pop music over there), it’s kinda cool what they’re doing I mean it’s cooler than Barney-but not by much.

Riffi-Raffi kicking those tasty licks


Apocalyptic Visions; MacGruber

So on Saturday me and my lady went out to see the MacGruber movie. Before I get started with my review of the film I want to just asked what the hell happened to the matinée? Once upon a time not that long ago if you went to a movie before 6 you got a special matinée price, it was just a few dollars off the regular movie price but in these tight times every little bit counts. That’s the whole point of going early! Instead we paid $21.50 for a movie we just kinda wanted to see. Now you have to show up before noon to see a matinée. Who wants to go the movies for breakfast? This is why people download everything-this is why I usually download everything. Not that I don’t go to the movies often we try to have a movie date at least once a week (sometimes we skip a week if nothing good is out). I also live in California so things are a little higher priced than they are in other places, but that’s the price you pay for living by the sea waiting for the earthquake to swallow you whole. Another thing I want to rail on is; what happened to hot popcorn? Since when is it okay to charge $12.50 for a bag of cold popcorn and $6.75 for a drink with no refill? Yet like a moron I payed it and settled in for a hour and half long SNL sketch.

The movie was funny enough. It was more or less what I expected, the theme song (a slow-mo version of the one they play on TV) even ended with “I can’t believe they made a movie out of-MACGRUBER! There was tons of dick jokes and pseudo-homosexuality. The kind we’ve grown accustomed to in this post-Will Ferrel/ Tim and Eric world of comedy. It still kinda blows my mind the ease in which these seemingly straight actors slip so easily into homosexuality, but I guess you can’t be a famous actor without sucking a little dick here and there. So that was thrown out through the entire film. There was surprisingly a great deal of action for a comedy. It seemed at times they secretly wanted to make a straight action flick! The cameos by some of the lesser known WWE superstars early on was perfect since I am an avid wrestling fan. The brief scene involving The Big Show was perhaps the best scene in the movie, far more believable than the hilarious sex scenes between Will Forte and Maya Rudolph or Kristen Wiig. Who’s role seemed somewhat diminished, I can’t wait for her to break out. She is by far the funniest member of the current SNL cast and well deserving of a starring role. The soundtrack was awesome!  The movie was right along side of Hot Tub Time Machine for cheesy eighties references and in some ways I think HTTM did a better job at it. I was never a huge MacGuyver fan as a kid though (couldn’t stand the mullet). It was less of a rape of my childhood than A-Team will be. The summer seems to be shaping up as scarce on good movies, there’s Johna Hex but I never read that comic, other than that I can’t really think of any movie I want to see. I will probably go to Get him to the Greek next week (maybe). Forte did a good job extended the joke and taking the character to some places he could never go on network television. Although there was a bit more celery in the ass than I thought there would be. All in all I was satisfied with the movie and happy to give it a few more dollars to compete with Shrek which crushed it in the box office as anticipated. I can’t wait until Hollywood starts coming up with original ideas and I’m still kinda pissed at the loss of the matinee.

—————-
Now playing: Willie Nelson – Graceland
via FoxyTunes


Last night I dreamed that I was someone else…

I had a dream last night that I was saving gay teenagers from the religious right by talking shit about the bible. I also had a dream I wrote a script for Zach Galifianakis about an amateur wrestling promotion!

Don't worry Gay Teens L-Ballz will save you!

In the first one I was at some high school dance for some reason and this guy showed up with a bus trying to take kids away saying he was going to “show them the light of the lord”, so I stepped in and started saying that the bible was written by the Catholic church and Jesus probably couldn’t even read, he was just a barefoot carpenter who’s mom got knocked up by a man who wasn’t the one she was forced to marry at 13 by her family. I went on to say that Jesus was most likely just some dude who got twelve good buddies together to walk around in the desert with him and trip balls off the heat; so much that they started believing their own bullshit. And that what people today refer to as the word of god is actually a manufactured narrative put together by early rulers of the Catholic Church to control the local population. It worked so well that the government at the time used it to influence natives of the lands they conquered and spread this so-called religion around to keep the status quo. If there were a just and loving god, he would not condemn people for loving; just because it freaked a few people out.  Then I pointed out that the guy who was trying to convert them looked to me to be a closet case himself. I pointed out how most homophobes were just mad because they can’t accept their own desires, so because of their own fucked-up up-bringing they thought they could pray the gay away. But as the Catholic Church itself has shown us – even a man of supposed God – can’t pray the gay away! Then all the kids started cheering and I woke up.

I rolled back over and fell into a dream where I was hanging out in this dark back room with Zach G and we were doing shots and I was rolling a blunt, we started talking about our mutual love for North Carolina and Professional Wrestling.

You can totally see this movie in your head right?

We started brainstorming about what our characters would be, and he came up with this character called the Doctor; who was just this inept optometrist who was constantly trying to check people’s eyes. He was upset that he couldn’t become an “ear, nose, and throat man” like his mother wanted. He was a horrible wrestler who only won when his über hot nurse distracted his opponent. He wasn’t big time he just wrestled for fun in VFW posts and high school gymnasiums on the weekend. In real life he was in fact an optometrist with said mother issues and the hot nurse was in fact his lovely wife played by Kristen Wiig. Yet rather than actually write the script out first we decided to act it out live for unsuspecting audiences. We got on a small promotion in Alabama where they didn’t know who either of them was and became a huge hit, then we got a call from Vince McMahon of the WWE. We were flipping out in a hotel room when I woke up.  I have a lot of weird dreams.

Tell me you don't wanna see her in some hot nurses outfit!


Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 86 other followers