i (Love Myself)

This song makes me happy.

I done been through a whole lot
Trial, tribulations, but I know God
Satan wanna put me in a bow-tie
Praying that the holy water don’t go dry, yeah yeah

As I look around me
So many motherfuckers wanna down me
But ain’t no nigga never drown me
In front of a dirty double-mirror they found me

I love myself
The world is a ghetto with big guns and picket signs
I love myself
But it can do what it want whenever it wants and I don’t mind
I love myself
He said, “I gotta get up, life is more than suicide.”
I love myself
“One day at the time, sun gonna shine.”

Everybody looking at you crazy
What you gone do?
Lift up your head and keep moving
Or let the paranoia haunt you?
Peace to fashion police
I wear my heart on my sleeve let the runway start
You know the miserable do love company
What do you want from me and my scars?
Everybody lack confidence, everybody lack confidence
How many times our potential was anonymous?
How many times the city making me promises?
So I promise this:

I love myself
The world is a ghetto with big guns and picket signs
I love myself
But it can do what it want whenever it wants and I don’t mind
I love myself
He said, “I gotta get up, life is more than suicide.”
I love myself
“One day at the time, sun gonna shine.”

They wanna say there’s a war outside and a bomb in the street
And a gun in the hood and a mob of police
And a rock on the corner and a line full of fiends
And a bottle full of lean and a model on a scheme, yup

These days of frustration keep y’all on ducking rotation
I duck these cold faces, post up fee-fi-fo-fum basis
Dreams of realities peace
Blow steam in the face of the beast
The sky can fall down, the wind can cry now
The strong in me, I still smile

I love myself
The world is a ghetto with big guns and picket signs
I love myself
But it can do what it want whenever it wants and I don’t mind
I love myself
He said, “I gotta get up, life is more than suicide.”
I love myself
“One day at the time, sun gonna shine.”

Walk my barefeet (Walk my barefeet)
Down, down valley peak (Down, down valley peak)
I keep my fee-fi-fo-fum (Fee-fi-fo-fum)
I keep my heart undone (My heart undone)

And I love myself
The world is a ghetto with big guns and picket signs
I love myself
But it can do what it want whenever it wants and I don’t mind
I love myself
He said, “I gotta get up, life is more than suicide.”
I love myself
“One day at the time, sun gonna shine.”

I went to war last night
With an automatic weapon, don’t nobody call a medic
I’m a do it ’til I get it right

I went to war last night
I’ve been dealing with depression ever since an adolescent
Duckin’ every other blessin’, l can never see the message

I can never take the lead, I can never bob and weave
For my nigga that be letting ’em annihilate me
And the sound is moving in a meteor speed
From a 100 to a billion lay my body in the street

Keep my money in the ceiling let my mama know I’m free
Give my story to the children and the lesson they can read
And the glory to the feeling of the only unseen
Seen enough, make a motherfucker scream,

“I love myself!”

I lost my head,
I must’ve misread
what the good book said
Oh woes keep me,
it’s a jungle inside
Give myself again
’til the well runs dry.

– Kendrick Lamar

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The Littlest Psychopath

(a sob story)

This is the story of a boy called Melvin. And before you think he is me… he is not me. We sort of share a name but he is not me. He is somebody else. A little boy who grew up in a house full of psychotic people. And everyone knows that psychos prey on the weakest. And he was the weakest. He was the littlest psychopath.

Let me see… There was Violent Psycho, Trust-Me Psycho, Grandma Psycho, Rapey Psycho, Uncle Psycho and a half-brother he called monster, that we’ll call Half-Monster Psycho.

And before you feel too bad for little Melvin. He was not alone in this house full of demented psychos. He had a friend; A teddy bear, he named Teddy Beam. This was his companion and protector… that doubled as a football on its day off. Its name was Theodore Melvin Beam.

Its first name was Theodore because Melvin was only five years old when he found it and failed to realize that this was an awful name for a teddy bear. He chose Melvin as its middle because HE was Melvin, so shouldn’t his bear be named Melvin too. And its last name was Beam because… Well, because it doubled as a football. Teddy Beam was a good football.

And I know he sounds like me, but little Melvin was not me. He was not. He was somebody else.

At five years old, Melvin wanted to be an actor when he grew up.

Grandma Psycho was an elderly heroin addict whose habit had outgrown her income. Melvin loved her for her stories and for her butter and maple syrup sandwiches. Heroin addicts sure love their sugar he never thought, because he was only five and had no idea.

When she baby-sat for him, they would read tarot in the kitchen and eat their sticky sweet sandwiches and laugh at the ghosts and demons that came to mess with them. Grandma Psycho would stay with him until the money was gone and the drugs wore off and there were no more suckers, who only wanted to hear what they already knew told to them by an old soul dealing out cards while an even older one stared blankly at their dead relatives or lost friends and grasped his little teddy bear for dear life.

But once the drugs wore off and there was nothing left in the house to steal, she would rent little Melvin to the local pedophiles for money. That’s right. Grown men would pay her money. Not a lot of money. Just enough for her to get good. Money to spend time with a little boy.

“Grandma needs her fix.” she said “And grown men need their hugs. She’ll just be in the next room getting high on these here drugs.”

Theodore Melvin Beam was a tan classic bear. One of his eyes was brown while the other was a black button. He had been someone else’s bear before Melvin and they had apparently let things happen to him. Bad things. But Teddy Beam wants you all to know that he’s safe now. He’s good.

At six years old, Melvin wanted to be a comic book artist when he grew up.

Uncle Psycho was Melvin’s least favorite uncle. He would take Melvin down the block to watch him and his friends drink cheap wine and get into fights. Sometimes there was blood and they would have to run. Or down to the bar or to the brothel until it got dark and Melvin couldn’t wake him because he was too drunk. Or until Melvin was forgotten somewhere along the way, like that jacket you’re always leaving everywhere, the one your mother tells you that you’re going to lose one day.

And the whores would kiss Melvin’s fat little cheeks and pretend to care about him in between giving blow jobs to patrons and it got too dark and he’d have to find his own way back in that dark and the six-year-old boy, older than his years, his cheeks stained cherry red, would head for the door to walk home in the dark.

“You’ve forgotten your jacket sweetie.” a working girl might say. “Can you make it back alone?”

“I got it. I ain’t scared at all.” In fact, it’s scarier at home.

Theodore Melvin Beam always smelled of wine, whiskey and spirits. Jack Daniels was his favorite. He could drink with the best of them. He was the most interesting bear in the world. Then Teddy Beam turned to the camera and said, “Stay thirsty my friends.”

At seven years old, Melvin wanted to be a professional photographer when he grew up.

Violent Psycho and Trust-Me Psycho were a couple. They were in love. He bought her things and made her feel pretty and wanted. Trust-Me’s mother, Melvin called her Grandma, was fond of telling her that no one would ever want her and she believed it. So when a violent psychopath brought her flowers, she overlooked that he’d been abusing her seven-year old son so badly that he’d been hospitalized twice.

Melvin had a scar over his eye where the doctors had to cut it open so that it wouldn’t go blind. This was before the time when “I fell on the swing” or “I bumped into the door” was questioned. No one cared and no one came.

Melvin was Violent Psycho’s whipping boy. VP had a long oak staff that… (Oh do you guys mind if I call him VP? It’s just so much easier) Well, he had a bo staff. And it was that he used to beat the hell out of little Melvin. In the morning. The afternoon. At night. He was a martial arts instructor, militant radical and an overall sadistic human being. Your basic violent psychopath.

At dinnertime, Melvin was his favorite little plaything. He would make Melvin stand beside the table with his arms held out at his sides parallel to the ground. If they dropped at any point, if Melvin got tired or lost his focus, VP would snatch up his bo staff and whack Melvin across the thighs with it or across the back or on the head.

While the rest of the psychos ate dinner in silence, Melvin had to stand there like a statue straining against gravity until everyone was finished with the meal. Or until Melvin had gotten angry enough or tired enough to drop his arms in defiance and take the beating. The savage beating that had hospitalized him twice. Some days he added books to his hands.

And before we go much further I can tell you think he’s me. He is not me. He’s somebody else. I say this honestly.

One day VP thought it would be amusing to juice Melvin’s most hated vegetable and force him to guzzle a large glass of beet juice in one go.

It got messy.

Little Melvin tried his best to keep it down. But it came back up violently and so Melvin ran into the bathroom to escape the beating. He would beat Melvin even when he wasn’t mad. Just for fun. So an angry beating was always particularly brutal.

The bathroom was the only room in the house with a lock. It wasn’t actually a lock but a hook and eye. It was a wall, a moat with alligators, a tower with sentries, an impenetrable force field with a thousand-year power source. It was a little piece of metal with a bracket screwed into the door frame. It was a place of solace.

Violent Psycho huffed and hollered. He banged on the door. He could have easily smashed it in but he enjoyed the game. Even angry, he enjoyed the terror he created.

Then there was the sweetest little knock. It was Trust-Me Psycho’s sweet little knock on the bathroom door. So he unhooked the eye and let her in. She smiled.

“He’s not angry anymore. Breathe. You can stay here if you like.” And then she shoved him out the door. I even think she whispered, “Psych!”

Theodore Melvin Beam was just a stuffed animal and did not feel pain. This came in handy when he was dropped from a great height. He was often dropped from great heights but he never complained. Teddy Beam was always cool like that. He was very cool.

At ten years old, Melvin wanted to be a rock star when he grew up.

Trust-me Psycho was fond of saying I love you when dropping Melvin off with strangers. “Out of sight, out of mind.” she used to say. She said a lot of things. “I love you.” “I’ll kill you.” “Who are you? Why are you trying to hurt me?” “What happened to my spaceship?” OR “God hates me.” Were some of her favorite things to say, to the wall, the door and anyone and no one in particular.

She met a man at school who lived with a mute boy. They were not related. Just a mute little boy who lived in his house. (Sounds legit, right?) She would drop little Melvin off at this house and leave him there so the boys could play.

I’m going to call the man RP for short. It stands for Rapey Psycho because his house was a full on pedo-trap. He had coins on his floor. Dimes and nickels that were easily pocketed when he wasn’t looking. And candy dishes near the sofa. Kids would come over to play and leave with almost a dollars worth of change and a pocket full of candy.

But on the table, where he sat and watched the children, he kept dollar bills, just out of reach. This one time Melvin took a chance and sat down with him at the table where the bills were. Melvin had gotten greedy for money and that’s when he served Melvin the Kool-aid, the Kool-aid with the quaaludes in it, or whatever, that knocked him right out cold.

And when Melvin opened his eyes he found himself on RP’s large creepy water-bed. The little mute boy, the little mute boy who was not the man’s relative, still played on the carpet. Who leaves their child in the house of a man with a large creepy water-bed and a boy who is not his own?

So when the man suggested a sleep-over, a chill ran up Melvin’s spine. Trust-Me Psycho gave him the choice. He could sleep over the pedophiles house or come back home where Violent Psycho had something special ready for him. It was his choice.

The little mute boy said, “Stay.” Not mute after all. Just scared and lonely. Melvin chose the gentler of the two options. He chose to stay.

“Giving your child to pedophiles seems like the family trade. But you’re doing this for nothing, bitch. At least Grandma was getting paid.”

Theodore Melvin Beam sleeps in a bed. He is hugged for comfort and not for pleasure. He chases away the demons with his softness. But the years have hardened his material. He is still soft on the inside but his outside is course and hard. Don’t judge him by his exterior. He has feelings, you know.

At fifteen years old, Melvin wanted to be a filmmaker when he grew up.

He was not alone. Melvin was not alone. There was someone watching from the corner of the room. There was someone with him. There was someone there at every turn. A monster in the corner delighting from his pain. Melvin had a half-brother. A half-monster. Three years older and dumb as a bag of bricks. He was friendly one moment and a complete monster the next. His half-brother must have hated Melvin like something out of a fairy tale to watch all that abuse and say nothing. He watched years of torture and torment that his little brother endured.

But at nicer times, they would play catch. During the down times, Teddy would fly through the air like a beam of light. He was a pretty cool football, that Teddy Beam.

His brother was not a football. He was a smiling witness. He was there to pour salt on the wounds because the psycho rolls downhill. He was glad he was no longer the youngest, the weakest, the littlest psychopath. And that smile of relief for not being the center of abuse never left this half-monster’s face.

He left home when he turned eighteen and never looked back. He asked Melvin to come with him. Melvin had a girlfriend. Melvin was in High School. Melvin was fifteen and moving across the country with a half-monster just didn’t seem like the right decision. The devil you know. Plus by this time all the other psychos were dead or in jail. Except for Trust-Me Psycho, who Melvin desperately wanted to trust. So, he chose to stay.

“I saw them beat, saw them rape you.” he said. “Put you in the hospital twice. But I don’t think it was that bad. It was actually kind of nice.”

And then he left.

Theodore Melvin Beam had been through the wars. Through the fire. Through the mill. And had passed every test. He was a good…

“And you don’t need a teddy bear.” his brother said, as Melvin complained in earnest, then he ripped it from his arms and then he threw it in the furnace.

Melvin stood and stared in horror as Theodore Melvin burned.

“Now you have nothing!” The monster slammed the door, never to return.

Theodore Melvin Beam had been through the wars. Through the fire. Through the mill. And had passed every test. He was a good friend. He was a good companion. He was even a good football. And he will be missed. R.I.P.

At seventeen years old Melvin didn’t know what he wanted to be if he ever got to grow up. It really wasn’t that important anymore.

He was left alone… with HER.

Trust-Me Psycho was in rare form. She was talking to herself and redecorating her life as if she lived by herself. But there was someone breathing in the next room. There was Melvin; Her son. She couldn’t drop him off with relatives; They were all dead, or pawn him off on psychos who were all in jail.

And the boy was a handful. He had anger issues and personality problems. He had beaten up those boys at camp and bullied kids at school. He had yelled and screamed at his grandmother and never visited on her deathbed. He had threatened the lives of her boyfriends and set fire to their things. He punctured that man’s water-bed and flooded his house. He had chased his uncle with a knife when he tried to touch him. He had no respect for his elders. No respect for his mother. The screaming. The fighting with his brother. The temper tantrums. She couldn’t take anymore of this… this… little psychopath. He was a psychopath and she just couldn’t.

“What do you want from me?” she asked. “Stop looking at me.” she ordered. “Are you telling your friends that I’m a bad mother?” She was all over the place. But then suddenly calm.

She said, “I love you, little Melvin. Of that there is no doubt.” and then she swung open the front door and screamed. “Get out. Get out! GET OUT!!!!”

Melvin, after seventeen years, had finally found himself psychopath free… and homeless. Homeless and psychopath free. Well… there was one more left; Melvin himself.

He had survived Grandma, Uncle, Violent, Rapey, Trust-Me and Half-Monster Psychos. And even lost his imaginary friend along the way (a psycho in his own right and one hell of a football). But there was one more psychopath to go. And this would be the trickiest one to get rid of.

He decided to decide that he did not want to live with Melvin anymore. He did not want to BE Melvin anymore. Melvin was a victim. Melvin was a sad-sack. Melvin was a whipping boy.

He would change his name and become someone else. Someone else entirely. Someone who didn’t have the same skeletons as Melvin, the same psychos in his past.

He would change his last name from that old man’s name to something given to him by someone he liked.

He would shorten his first name to something he wanted to be called. Something better.
Something that wasn’t short for anything. And he would just move on.

But this was not a fairytale. It does not have a happy ending. He tried to finish High School but didn’t graduate with his class, mostly because of attendance but also because his life-long straight A’s became straight D’s overnight.

And he would always have trust issues and relationship problems that had deep roots. And though he’d exhausted the hospitality of his friends, after three years of night school (while sleeping on the subway), he finally got his diploma. And would start his new life. Freeing himself from his old one.

It is not a fairytale. But the one thing he learned was how to survive. This new man was a survivor. The memory of old Teddy Beam still comforted him though it had been replaced by a psycho kitty. A cat, which is a better companion for a grown man than a teddy bear.

And I know what you’re thinking; That last part definitely sounds a lot like me. And I’ll give you that much.

“We may share the same scars and our state of mental health.” he said again. “but this story is not about me. It’s about somebody else.”

Okay?

The End

Injured Teddy

For Teddy Beam

All Your Holy Books Are Belong To Us (The Gripes of Wrath)

Old Books

The idea of the SACRED text is destroying the world. The unwavering certainty that words written over a thousand years ago, changed incrementally, misinterpreted and mistranslated by sometimes well-meaning and sometimes evil but always misguided men, and protected by governments, religious institutions and churches under penalty of death, are in some way divine or holy or the recorded words of a god is the cause of most of what’s wrong with the world. Not all… But most.

We need to stop using these books to repress women, to oppress people, to justify violence. And we need to stop allowing governments to use them as well; to oppress, control and stay in power.

Our holy books need a rewrite.

* Needless to say, this entire post will annoy the religious and anger the easily offended. 

But yeah…They all need a good rewrite.

All Your Holy Books Are Belong To Us.

Supplies you’ll need:

A pen or a marker
A lighter or matches
A metal bucket or large metal can
Some good wine and/or good weed
(Or just a good sense of humor)
And a hot bubble bath.

First up… The Jews

How to fix the Old Testament

Wherever there is a reference to god in the Old Testament; The singular, I am the only one, no seriously there are no others, Who the hell were you praying to just now?, are you seeing other gods behind my back?, why don’t you love me? – God, change it from god to A god or one of the gods. Or if you’re feeling creative, give them all names. And each reference to a god in each individual chapter should be identified as a different deity than in a previous chapter. Sometimes even within the same chapter.

Once you have edited it, so that the whole thing is a bunch of jealous gods fighting amongst themselves, using humans as pawns, then you can separate the lies from the lessons. The cruelty set upon us from the cruelty that we brought upon ourselves. And then it all makes sense. Some would say mythological sense. But not me. I believe in the bible. I believe in god. Just not the idea that there is only one.

The schizophrenic multiple personality riddled, abusive one moment and kind the next, ONE God is many. More than one. And more than that, when any of the jealous gods claims to be the only god. It should be read as a lie or a trick. For they are powerful beings with very massive but fragile egos.

Next victim… The Christians

 

How to fix the New Testament

This is easy. Just rip out all the pages after Acts and burn them. You don’t have to burn them in a ritual cleansing fire or chant over them or anything, but you must burn them. Leaving just the accepted gospels (still no Gospel of Thomas however… nobody’s perfect) and leaving in Acts. And really Acts is only left to remind you of what you burnt; The letters of men and the dreams of a madman that should not have been added in the first place.

For extra credit add a page after Acts that reads SCREW YOU SAUL. I won’t let you pervert the TEACHINGS OF JESUS with your own agenda. You can sign it from me (or sign it yourself).

Also if your New Testament doesn’t already highlight the words of Jesus, go through and highlight or underline his words. What you are left with is what Jesus said and did and not someone else’s interpretation. It’s called a personal relationship because you do not need someone else to tell you what he meant. His words are self-explanatory.

Next… Oh my…  Who put all these eggshells on the floor?

 

How to fix the Koran

If you ask me the whole thing needs a woman’s touch. But, of course, nobody asked me. And I am in no way saying to burn or alter or do anything disrespectful to the Koran.

So don’t threaten my life you violent fuck.

I know that’s sort of racist because it’s like one in a million who are violent or radical. But if you have a million people who don’t want to kill you and one who does… which is the greater number? The one. Unless of course the million are actively trying to save you from him. Then he’s outnumbered. But he’s not. Because they are not.

Because it isn’t the book, nor is it the teachings of Muhammad. it’s the rigid, sober brain of the man who holds it and elevates it above human life that is at fault.

Human beings, society, relationships, gender roles and the planet itself are evolving. These are living, breathing, ever-changing phenomena.

So how do you fix the Koran you say? Respectfully place it on a shelf. Go smoke a bowl, Have some wine, hop in a bubble bath. Calm the fuck down.

Now reread what I said to the Jews and Christians and know that some of that can also be applied to you as well.

Ana asif

 

How to fix the Four Noble Truths

Rip out the first noble truth. Or at least move it to the end. Buddhist have been slaughtered for centuries. You don’t have to hate in order to fight back. But when the first thing written is that life is suffering, you get a bunch of well-meaning people letting bad things happen to them because that’s the way life is.

Karma doesn’t destroy temples, kill monks and rape nuns. People do that. People who, through their actions accumulate bad karma. And allowing this to happen through inaction is also a source of bad karma.

I blame the first noble truth and its misinterpretation as an acceptance of suffering. Start with the second. or skip ahead to the third. (or combine the second and third) Buddhist don’t have to put up with suffering and not all desires are bad. A desire to not be slaughtered by the thousands is not bad. A desire to practice your religion in peace is not bad. And sometimes the only way to do that is to get angry. I know I just told the Muslims to not get angry. I’m telling you the opposite. You do not have to hate to fight back.

Also setting yourself on fire… stop doing this. Please stop doing this. Live to practice. Live to teach. And if teaching gets you killed then that’s how you die. Because the person you’re killing, when you kill yourself, is a Buddhist Monk and we have already established that killing monks is a source of bad karma.

Since I’m on a roll, I also have a problem with the Buddhist concept of emptiness. I get it that life is an illusion and nothing is as it seems. But within that illusion there are laws of science and rules of physics and the lives of people. You don’t have to be of the world to be in the world.

So what have you learned, Dorothy?

Beside the fact that I know nothing about religion, I learned that it is past time for the spiritually evolved to speak up. Past the time for the passionate to tell the pacifist to get off of his ass and defend his right to exist. For the modernist to tell the traditionalist to shut the fuck up you do not speak for me. For the moderate to grab the extremist by the collar and get him the meds he surely needs.

It is past the time of the old gods. The old books. The old words. The old world is gone and holding on to it is destroying this one.

While there is a place in this new world for Moses, Jesus, Muhammad and Buddha, there just isn’t for the centuries of crap piled on top of their great words and great deeds.

And finally…

How to fix The Book of Mormon

You don’t. There is nothing wrong with The Book of Mormon. Trey Parker & Matt Stone are the Lords of Broadway.

– Mel

End of Year Review: The Good The Bad The Ugly & The Movies from 2012 MEGAPOST

Goodbye 2012. I am happy to see it go.

Goodbye to the fiscal cliff. Goodbye to the most negative presidential election I have ever seen in my life.

Goodbye to end of the world prophecies. Goodbye to the bloodiest year for domestic gun violence since the civil war.

Goodbye to the shittiest year of the 21st century so far.

Goodbye.

Let’s get to it…

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly and The Movies of 2012.

THE GOOD of 2012:

Television got even better in 2012. People had less money in 2012. Stayed at home and watched TV more in 2012. So TV producers stepped up their games and brought the goods in 2012. Television was awesome in 2012

Best Television Moments in 2012

In 2012 some of my favorite shows had their best seasons. Here are ten of my favorite things.

Doctor Who: The Snowmen Christmas Special

Doctor Who: The Snowmen

The episode was very good. I love the new companion. She’s as pretty as Rose Tyler, as brilliant as Martha Jones. She’s as fearless as Amy Pond, as cute & funny as Donna Noble. But most of all she’s about as mysterious as River Song. The one word lie detector test scene was amazing.

The Doctor Who Gang

I can’t wait until April. I WANT MORE DOCTOR WHO NOW.

The Walking Dead’s Michonne

Michonne from The Walking Dead

She really made this season of the show for me. She is a badass. A badass, dread-locked, lesbian w/ a samurai sword. Where do I sign? I loved this season. Best one so far.

Rachel Maddow’s Last Show Before Election Day & Her First Show After The Election

Rachel Maddow

I would put both of these shows in the time capsule. Pure Perfection. Rachel really worked overtime this election season. Before he leaves office, President Obama really should reward her in some way. (Exclusive Interview, Medal of Honor, Blanket Pardon for Future Crimes… something nice)

Fringe: The Final Season

Fringe Final Season

The show is fantastic. Still one of the best shows in TV history. Some of their best performances are from this season. And some of their best writing.

Game of Thrones: The Battle of Blackwater

Game of Thrones Blackwater

The episode was one of the best hours of TV in 2012.

Game of Thrones Tyrion

“Those are brave men knocking on our door… Let’s go kill them.”

Peter Dinklage was robbed at the Emmy’s. I can’t wait until March.

Elementary & Vegas

Elementary & Vegas

These are two entertaining & well-written new mystery shows on CBS. With all-star casts. And neither is your run-of-the-mill procedural. Both are great shows renewed for second seasons. Watch them.

Girls:  Welcome to Bushwick a.k.a. The Crackcident

Girls HBO

The Bushwick Episode was the best episode of the season of a thoroughly enjoyable and immensely entertaining show. Lena Dunham did great work last year. I hope the second season is as good as the first.

Breaking Bad’s Evolution of Walter White

Breaking Bad Walter White

This show gets better and better every year. It was already good. It’s criminally good now. (“Say My Name” “Heisenberg.” “You damn right.”) I’m looking forward to an intense finale.

Best Performer in 2012

Anne Hathaway

2012 was most definitely her year. Anne Hathaway has been good for a while but finally everyone else is beginning to recognize her talent.

"You Look Hungry Anne. Could I Tempt You With A Bite?"

“You Look Hungry Anne. Could I Tempt You With A Bite?”

She is incredibly good in Les Miserables. Made me weep my eyes out. I was soaked. Great voice. Great acting. She dropped the weight for the necessary realism. And then proceeded to blow the roof off of every theater in the country.

And the Oscar goes to…

"Don't Play. You Know I Could Eat You Up Little Girl."

“Don’t Play. You Know I Could Eat You Up Little Girl.”

And earlier in the year she kicked ass as Catwoman in The Dark Knight Rises. She took an iconic character that has been played to death by Oscar winners and icons in movies and television for decades and she made it her own. Anne Hathaway was my favorite thing in an excellent film (one of my top films of the year…wink).

"Keep Laughing Amanda. I May Not Be Able To Outsing You But I Will Swallow You Whole."

“Watch It, Hathaway. You Know You Can’t Hit Those High Notes Like Me.”
“Keep Laughing Amanda. I May Not Be Able To Out-sing You But I Will Swallow You Whole.”

Anne Hathaway has officially become my favorite actress. She is insanely talented, funny, has a fantastic voice and is gorgeous. The girl is smokin’ hot.

"Okay, I'm Going To Eat You Know."

“Ha Ha. You Wish.”
“Okay, I’m Going To Eat You Know.”

And even when she hosted SNL (a show that has seen better days but looks to be getting back to form) it was their best show of the year.

"All Gone."

“All Gone… Thank You. Thank You.”

And now to bummer town…

THE BAD of 2012

or more accurately

The problems we need to address in 2013

First and foremost…

Movie Ticket Prices

Yep That Looks About Right

Yep That Looks About Right

Come on man, $23.00 for IMAX? And even more for IMAX 3D.  That’s crazy pants. Although I did like the reserved seating for The Hobbit. No line, already knowing where your seats are. (I got cheated out of the Star Trek sneak peek that they promised, however. Still angry about that one)

But guys, seriously, the movie going experience is no longer better than viewing at home. It just isn’t. You have to either make it more special. Maybe a restaurant & movie situation or beer & wine at the movies. Perhaps optional headphones. I don’t know. But it ain’t worth the money as it is, except for maybe when there’s a major event movie coming out, where seeing it the first weekend is important.

Other than that I’ll be waiting for the DVD.

Terrorism

It's A Madhouse! A Madhouse!

It’s A Madhouse! A Madhouse!

It’s the escalation of the mass shootings that troubles me & how the pattern seems to suggest that they are designed in a way to make us feel unsafe in the places that have been our safe havens.

Of course that suggests that there is an intelligence behind them. Not just wacko after wacko trying to outdo, out-evil, out horrify, and one-up the last, instantly famous mass murderer that came before them before they off themselves.

(By the way, fellas, skip right to the last shooting, the one where you shoot yourself. That way you die a hero. You die having killed a probable & future mass murderer. “You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” – Half of a great man said that)

But these trends do not have to have intelligence behind them. The next killer, having seen the way the news vilifies but also enshrines and bathes in the spotlight the previous super villain (these guys think they’re in a comic book or something), then comes up with a new, more heinous way to make us all cringe.

The depths of darkness that someone can dive to when they believe that they are dark to their very core is only limited by imagination.

Universal Mental Health Care (and Health Care in general, for that matter) can do so much to reduce this escalating trend. You need to find these troubled souls when they are too small to make these plans, to hold a gun, to do these things. For our safety, for their family & friends and for the victims.

Race

There Is No Such Thing As Mixed Race To A Racist

There Is No Such Thing As Mixed Race To A Racist

Not just racism, mind you, but race. Because there is no racism without the misguided idea of race.

So why can’t different humans from different regions and different backgrounds just look different: Skin, Hair, Eyes, Height, Weight. Be different: Sex, Personality, Creativity, Intellect, Language. And/Or believe different: Politics, Spirituality, Religion. Be Human without then having to form groups and perpetuate the illusion of a competition.

That’s what sports are for. (And frankly I’d rather be in a soccer riot than a race riot any day)

Fear

False Evidence Appearing Real

False Evidence Appearing Real

The misguided fear that believes if homosexuality is universally accepted that they will have no choice but to be gay. Because the only thing stopping them at this point, I suppose, is that people LIKE THEM would attack them. (or other equally stupid reasons to deny Marriage Equality)

And the annoying fear that seems to believe that by accepting a man’s role in human reproduction, as almost nil, somehow makes men more useless than they already are. Leading to this need to legislate reproduction so that they still feel important and involved. Aw, fellas. You feel left out? By how you’re acting, I’m guessing there’s a reason. Uterine envy is ugly business, gentlemen. Stop it. Stop it now.

And the idiotic fear of Science, fear of evolution or climate change FACTS. A fear so great that you deny the validity of scientific discovery, basic Biology & Physics & Math. Fear that somehow science wants to replace god. We are meant to understand… everything. Your willful ignorance would make any deity weep. If your god had wanted us to remain dumb he wouldn’t have made us so curious.

So those are the problems that I believe reached critical mass in 2012. And if we begin to address them, to solve them, we can save the world.

Fear, Race, Terrorism… & Movie Ticket Prices.

Get on that, planet.

And lastly…

THE MOVIES of 2012

There are 3 major films from 2012 that I haven’t seen yet they are Lincoln, Argo & Zero Dark Thirty but I don’t like to see political propaganda films until a few years after their release. And I know they are all amazing. I’m weird, okay?

To the list

My Top Ten Movies of 2012 (and links to where I blog about them)

1. Les Miserables – Anne Hathaway!! (you have to picture me singing that and not just saying it)

Les Miserables (pronounced lay-miz by theater geeks) is easily the best film of the year. It is the best movie musical of all-time. (Yes, better than West Side Story & The Wizard of Oz. Better than Chicago & The Sound of Music. It’s that good)

Les Miserables

It’s the story of Jean Valjean. Imprisoned for stealing a loaf of bread to feed a starving child & how that crime changes his life. It is the story of the police officer, Javert, haunted by his own past and his twisted sense of justice as he tracks down the fugitive. It is the story of Fantine, a woman pushed to her limits in order to keep her daughter safe and fed. It is the story of France in the early 19th century & the class struggles that followed the French Revolution. It is a love story. It is a story of redemption. But most of all, it is a story with some incredible music.

Les Miserables 2

What the filmmakers added to Victor Hugo’s story and Claude Michel-Schonberg’s beautiful music was an insanely talented cast: the aforementioned Anne Hathaway, the insanely versatile Hugh Jackman, the golden throat-ed Amanda Seyfried & the much hated Russell Crowe (He’s a lot better than he is given credit). They sing every line. There is no speaking. And they sing on camera. On set. Every take.

Les Miserables 3

I loved this film. It is perfect. Some complain about the sound stages and the look of the film but having the actors sing on set creates the need to shoot on a sound stage. There are musicians off camera, playing along with the scene, with the actors. You can’t get that realism on location. because you can’t get that sound on location. So I forgive the sets because the MUSIC is the whole movie.

Go See It or at least Rent It (I’m going to buy it)

2. Prometheus – Ridley Scott (Back where he belongs. Making kick ass Sci Fi Horror)

3. Dark Knight Rises – Christopher Nolan & Hathaway as Catwoman (Fantastic end to an amazing trilogy)

4. The Avengers – Joss!!! (Joss Whedon can do no wrong. Honestly)

5. The Hunger Games – Jennifer Lawrence as Katniss (I used to call Lucy, Catness but now I call her Kitty Katniss) This was a surprisingly good movie.

6. Skyfall – Casting Casting Casting (New M, New Q [all the letters are back and better than ever] and Javier Bardem is deliciously villainous)

Skyfall is a return to form for the Bond franchise. The reboot of the series, and the first two films (The first one about how he becomes a superspy, the second about how he deals with becoming a broken man) left out many of the iconic symbols James Bond fans have been used to seeing. This movie brings them all back with a vengeance.

Skyfall

James Bond is back in the saddle. But this time he’s joined by Q branch, M and Miss Moneypenny and the Ashton Martin & the Walther PPK also his favorite drink (shaken, not stirred)

Personally I didn’t like Skyfall as much as the first two Daniel Craig installments in the series (The amazing Casino Royale & the under-rated Quantum of Solace) but I was happy to see all the old favorites back.

Ralph Fiennes as M

However the absolute gem of Skyfall is the performance by Javier Bardem (Hollywood’s creepy bad guy) as the villainous Silva. He is creepy, evil, funny and heartbreaking all at the same time.

Skyfall Javier Bardem

I’m looking forward to, now that the franchise is back up to speed, seeing where Daniel Craig can go with the character. I believe he is the best James Bond since Sean Connery.

7. The Hobbit – I want to go to there. Where? New Zealand (The landscapes and scenery in this film have a starring role. It is gorgeous)

The first installment of The Hobbit Trilogy (I know it’s just one book but somebody should tell Peter Jackson) is a thrill ride. He brings us back to Middle Earth and introduces us to a new group of adventurers. This time: The Dwarves.

The Hobbit Dwarves 1

The party scene, where the Dwarves take over poor Bilbo’s home, to me, is the highlight of the movie. I like how the Dwarves all work as one well-oiled machine. It’s fun to watch.

The Hobbit Dwarves 2

Martin Freeman as the young  Bilbo is expert casting. He fits the role like a glove. He is not the hero (well not on purpose), he is just along for the ride.

Martin Freeman as Bilbo

It remains to be seen how good the last two films will be but this was a great way to start.

Gollum

And much like in The Lord of the Rings trilogy, Gollum steals the movie from the moment he slithers on-screen. Not the best film of the year but in my top ten.

8. Looper – Joseph Gordon-Prosthetic Nose-Levitt (Fantastic film if a bit Timey Wimey)

9. Ted – Seth MacFarlane (Love him. So Funny… & Mila Kunis)

10. Snow White & The Huntsman – Rupert Sanders (For his first feature he did pretty damn good and I don’t mean sleeping with the lead actress)

And Now..

The Bottom Five Movies of 2012 or (how Hollywood spends millions to shit on audiences)

In reverse order

5. John Carter – Mindless Martian Crap

4. Battleship – Loud Abrasive Crap

3. Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter – Presidential Seal of Crap

2. The Amazing Spider-Man – Comic Book Killing Beautifully Dressed Up Crap

And the worst movie of 2012:

1. Men in Black 3 – A Big ol’ Steaming Pile of Crap

"Why You Be Hatin' On Men In Black 3?"

“Why You Be Hatin’ On Men In Black 3?”

YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID.

And that, my friends, was my 2012. I did not like this year at all. A lot more bad than good if you ask me. From the election, starting with those hate-filled republican debates, really casting a dark shadow over the year. And the massacres at a movie theater, a temple, a college, an army base & a school along with rampant racism on the internet and talk radio & it was like everybody was in such a bad mood all year.

Breathe.

I’m here to tell you, (I’ve been to the future so listen to me)

2013 was… I mean… will be AWESOME.

Trust me, I’m a Doctor.

"No. I'm the Doctor"

“No. I’m the Doctor”

Doctor who?

Happy New Year Everybody

– Mel

With a Question

I saw the sages
Knelt at their feet
I found the teachers
With respect and patience
I waited for them
To acknowledge my presence

I presented my question
The question
That had been soaked
In the contemplations of generations
In years of booze & drugs
In days of hopelessness & of dreams
In pain & in bliss

The ultimate query
A questioned authority
A questioned existence
I sought the answers so many others had

Before me
Searched
Before me
Suffered
Before me
Died
Before me

And while it was
In retrospect
A universal question
It was a personal one as well
Written
Metaphorically
In my blood

I phrased it perfectly
With no fear
No hesitation
Leaving no room for misunderstanding
I bade them to explain it all
To my complete satisfaction
And enlightenment

And they did
Sort of…

They said,
“Why do you ask.”

And that’s all they said
And it wasn’t a question
It was the answer to my mine

And it’s all I needed to hear.

– Mel

Accidentally Immortal

If you had asked me, when I was a teenager, whether I wanted to live forever, I would have said “Hell yeah, I do. Where do I sign?”

If you had asked me a decade ago, when I was thirty or even when I was in my twenties, I still wouldn’t have hesitated. “Fuck yeah.” I’d say “Who doesn’t want to live forever.”

About two years ago I was given a gift, you might say. The gift of immortality. I guess you can call it a gift. I didn’t deserve it nor had I asked for it. It was given to me by mistake. Somebody must’ve fucked up. Some sick cosmic joke. Mis-filed paperwork. Had it come in a box with seasonal wrapping paper and a bow, I would have ripped into it and said. “Thank you. Thank you. This is just what I wanted!”

I DON’T WANT THIS.

It’s been one year ten months and twelve days since I…  Since I accepted a gift that wasn’t mine (Didn’t have my name on it. Could not have been meant for me) and I am the same man I was when I tore into that Pandora’s box with gusto. The same man I was. I am unchangeable. I can’t accumulate knowledge or new emotions. I can’t amass new experiences or learn new things. No nothing. No new nothing. Nothing new. Nothing. I have had this same pain in my left knee for two years. It never changes. Never gets worse. Never gets better. It is forever. I am forever. I am unchangeable.

I spent the first month of my immortality laughing at death but never getting any thrill from it. I tried to learn new skills but I have no muscle memory. I tried to learn to play the guitar but my fingers fumble on the fretboard after lesson one hundred and one the way they did after lesson one.

Not only can I never change, but I can not change anything around me. Everyone new I meet forgets who I am, forgets meeting me as soon as they take their eyes off of me. I could throw this rock through that window. This rock. That window. A physical thing. An actual event that everyone around would witness. I could watch the glass shatter and the people walking by react to the sound and the violence and then look at me like I was crazy, or angry and had broken the law, but as soon as someone averts their eyes or I look away for a moment, the window is whole, the rock is back where I had found it and no one remembers me or what I’ve done.

I remember. I can remember events and things as long as they fit within the scope of knowledge I already possessed. But nothing new. No new concepts. No new nothing.

I am the immortal. I can neither change nor effect change. It’s only been two years. Two… long… years… of just watching but never learning. Feeling but not remembering. Being but not belonging.

This is immortality.

I wanted to be a god. I wanted it… My friend J used to like to say I aspired to god-hood. Wanting to be like god… ha.

Ask me what I want today. Ask me what I would wish for now. It’s okay. I know you’ll never remember me or my answer but ask me anyway.

Today?

Thank you for asking.

Today, all I want is a sandwich.

What did you think I was going to say, that I wanted to die. I still don’t want to die. I just wish I could do something to help. To change things. But all I can do is watch. So I might as well have a sandwich while I do.

God isn’t made of Oil

I had a dream the other night. I dreamed that I was tracking a swamp monster. A gigantic swamp creature. Some of them were 20 or 30 feet but this one must have been 50 feet tall.

I was hunting it because it was widely believed that it was full of crude oil. That it was made of it. Every one of these swamp creatures had oil for blood which was why they were highly coveted by men like me. The Big Game Hunters. (I know I know but it was a dream)

These swamp creatures lived in the rain forests and in the wetlands all over the world among the tall trees and the thicket. making them very difficult to find.

That morning, I awoke with a plan to solve our global energy crisis. We pave the wetlands. We bulldoze the rain forests. It would create jobs, with millions of people cutting down trees and filling in swamps with concrete. But the best part is that it would force these swamp creatures from their hiding places then we could kill them. We could kill them all and drain their oil. Thus solving all of our energy problems for good. It’s so simple.

Now… before you object. Know that I thought this over for 5 whole minutes before writing this down and I already know how to respond.

Everyone’s going to say you can’t cut down all the forests and pave over the wetlands because trees absorb carbon dioxide and give us oxygen. Trees give us oxygen. You hear it over and over. But trees don’t give us oxygen. That’s just crazy talk. God gives us oxygen. God does. God. And we’re not going to go after God. Pave over or cut down God. That’s just stupid.

God isn’t made of oil.