So, I guess I have to do something to make this blog about "the movie."
Over the past week, I have come up with a possible round about way of getting exposure, but that's putting its fate in the hands of a drunk's (seeming at my level, so I don't consider that fighting words) aspirations of becoming a professional wrestler.
Curse this person for pushing my creativity nerve. It may serve as a pleasant distraction from my wanting to try front flips into bear traps (not necessarily suicidal), but if I get worked up about depending on someone else, the let down may just flat back my bumps.
Thus, my focus on promoting an effort to get "Main Event of the Dead" is paramount.
Observation 1: "Main Event of the Dead" Has Charm.
How does B-Movie Zombie Wrestling Comedy not sell itself? I blame the blockbuster. Why are people buying Michael Bay's Charm-Free Translation of a Toy Line featuring Mark Wahlberg?
It may be my tale of never-would-be's versus undead, insensitive stereotypes has one too many descriptive elements, but I guarantee it has charm. That's why "I Heart Huckabees" and "Ted" are the only Marky Mark films that I consider too have worth (okay, "Three Kings" and "The Departed"). Existentialist are nothing but charm and how can you not adore a cursing, toking, alcoholic teddy bear?
Oh yeah, the lack of support towards me is evidence that people don't get it.
I'm teddy bear shaped. I love creative obscenities. I'm at my best under destabilizing chemical influence. And charm is the only thing that I am confident that I exude.
Perhaps it is because I lack other Ted qualities: To shag without a dick and an overly defined regional accent.
To my credit, I love performing cunnilingus and with a few drinks, I can nail down whatever accent surrounds me (the only way I am certain I can make "Orphan Black" amusing [can't jump into that series cold]).
Rationalization 54: Oh How I Need to Relocate.
Going Theon/Reke is not an option. Or I just need to get the "Grumpy Bear" emblem on my stomach...or Grumpy Cat.
June 28, 2014
And now I am at that alienation stage. It is just painful to deal with people when you cannot relate to them or, for the most part, they've never given a shit.
I suppose I should thank Jason Pemberton of Sky Pro Wrestling for being such a horrible person (I do not want to even go into how wretched a promoter that must make him) for at least motivating me to get out there in an attempt to assure communication with the alcohol enthusiast mentioned earlier. As the gratuity from driving and the early arrival of my paycheck brings me hope for the evening, I am not to focused on elaborating on Rationalization 56: Honesty Produces Horrible People, which is why the body bag has been placed in the cart at Amazon.
Rationalization 55: Credit Lines Should Require Psych Exams
Before we panic--any further (any further than you have been to keep up appearances)--no corpse is going to be transported in this Super Savings Shipping item, it is just cheaper than getting a coffin to store the stuff I would like to take to the other side.
Yes, I know you cannot take it with you. I am just preparing for the future. I am thinking about the generation(s) to come.
I figure, all graves will get robbed at some point, but since cremation is the route of disposing whatever isn't useful from me, what would be the point of digging that hole for a coffee can of Donnie? With my collection of nerdom and athletic worship, it would be criminal not to preserve some of it.
I would also like to place my
With these plans now being revealed, guess whose family will skip the funeral arrangement.
It maybe best not to be remembered. I can only imagine the classless wrestling promoters in Peoria laughing at the news of a dead liberal idealist only to try to claim a show is a tribute.
Of course, life and death are the same, so I guess I would have the last laugh. Just hope I remember that if the decision comes. The decision, well, everyone said LeBron was committing career suicide, and he is fine.
Thanks for the loud and obnoxious for giving me material to avoid changing the mood of what was a light-hearted interlude from my countdown to extinction. At least it did not change the mood too much.
And thanks for the paycheck to prevent me from making these material national news or inspiring me to want to use corpse carry-ons for their traditional purpose. If only I had the time, or if the drunks could figure out how to walk a half a mile.
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