NinetyForChill: The #Podcast: Top of the World (1997), Cyberjack (1995), Skimble (2014 to 2023)

 NinetyForChill.com: The #Podcast

Episode 104: Top of the World (1997), Virtual Assassin (1995), Skimble (2014 to 2023).

Top of the World (1997), Cyberjack (1995), Skimble (2014 to 2023)

This week's movies are solely escapism for CatBusRuss. "Top of the World" is "Die Hard" meets "Ocean's 11" where Dennis Hopper and Peter Weller face off over Tia Carre. "Cyberjack" (Tubi's "Virtual Assassin") is "Die Hard" in the not too distant future with Brion James versus Cannon's "American Ninja". With the Bruce Willis classic turning 35, perhaps the year should be dedicated to "Try Hard" movies. But, the more pressing issue for CatBusRuss is trying to honor one of his best friends, Skimble the #BastardCat" who had just passed away. 

Allow me to get out of third-person. Happy Prof. Shurtleff of Illinois Central College? I (CM Darth) will try not to make so much light of violent death in this summation. This is my declaration of changing perspective.

This is probably going to be a downer episode. Ally's cat, Skimble, whom she adopted in 2018, had been living with me since we broke up in 2020. We have not been given a cause for what led to his liver failure, but he passed away on Sunday, January 22. I have yet to meet a more loving and cuddly cat, so I cannot see how the world is better off without him.

It is not addressed in the podcast that I maybe to blame for not realizing how sick he had become since he quit being himself at the turn of the new year. I am more angry at myself for letting the social norms that dictate pets are not as meaningful as people. Of course, there is always a coworker who has a dying parent, so in all likelihood, my depression would be looked down upon. Right now, there is just a lot of anger that I need to work through. That, and I cannot wait to think of means to barter to get the little ball of fluff back.

It took me a while to accept atheism, but my most influential friend is an adamant fan of it. We once saved the life of her roommate who was overdosing on heroin. Months later, as my friend was having a tough time, I joked about how she did not believe in a god. My point was, if she believed, maybe we could have negotiated a trade with the higher power for our mutual best friend who died from her addiction. Oh the puppies at the humane society I would sacrifice for Skim.

We have already taken Skimble to the crematory. I suggested on the ride to her hometown of Tuscola, a village with plenty of Native American exploitation, that we find a burial ground, but she balked. Sometimes dead is better, but an undead Skim is at least a Skim.

It was going to be tough to come up with a theme for a podcast this week anyhow. I just fell into Try Hards for Skimble. There was no way I could record an episode over the weekend with my support of Team ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ at Chicago's Whaddayaknow Tournament of Champions. With becoming obsessed with "Try Hard" movies in the build up to "Under Siege" with CouchMan", my plan was to work backwards or outward from "U". Thus, I went on to watch "Top of the World" which features the largest named cast (Peter Weller, Dennis Hopper, Tia Carre, Joe Pantoliano, Peter Coyote, David Allan Grier, Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa) for a mid budget knock off before all the Skim drama came to a head.

After Skimble passed, I needed some escapist trash to distract me. Michael Dudikoff, an untrained martial artist who became the first "American Ninja", versus Brion James, the badass replicant from "Blade Runner" who is determined to give each of his characters a different accent, was what "Virtual Assassin" offered. Too bad it is best known as "Cyberjack", hence making 2023 the year of the "Die Hard" knock off is already a bit off.

In the end, you will get more movie talk by volume than me trying to honor a lost best friend. If you choose not to skip to the end to of the episode and listen to my tribute to the little ball of fluff, I am honored. I will try to put up more pictures of him on my Mastodon account, @russstevens@mastodon.social. He is my second best friend to leave me for good, so I hope you understand why I needed to give my feeling 10 minutes. Thanks.

Follow me on Twitter @catbusruss. If you want to be on the show, contact me on Twitter or send an email to russthebus07@gmail.com. All we need is a theme, movie, director, or actor and a focus on sub 100-minute material. As long as the credits start before the 1:39:59 mark on the runtime bar, the movie qualifies.

Schrodinger's Cat and The Pawshank Redemption

*** I have using the neither dead/live cat as a metaphor since 2014. There will be few mentions of actual cats in this blog. ***

I imagine with the holiday season, things will pick up at the current, non-retail job. If it has not been obvious, providing details about the current use of my customer service expertise is something that has been avoided in this blog. But, the type of business that is about to take place may shock me. By no means am I supporting lay away, but it has got to be better than anything involving interest rates that are not from Visa, Amex, Mastercard or Discovery.

Which Freudian concept am I to curse? Do not comment to correct me. I now know the concepts all revolve around the psychic apparatus that forms the psyche. And yes, thanks Wikipedia.

It is obvious that it is the id since the downturn in my emotional state started with a dream(s) about my wrestling career (or lack there of). The reason I questioned it was just to make sure that I got it right.

My girlfriend was telling me that the meanings of dreams are whatever you make them to be. And then she said she could direct me to resources that would help me interpret them for me. There must be issues with my super-ego and ego because I do not know how those two statements can coincide with each other. Sadly, this may sum up my relationship status.

Of course, Christmas gifts have been bought and I believe she has earned them, but my yearning to chase paths she cannot follow will probably make for a tough festive season. Wanting to laze about until I have to go and deal with late night Thanksgivings sales followed up by an opening shift at the day job instead of attending an extended family meal may exasperate things. If not tough merry months than the purely winter ones.

This is simply where my head is at now. I am hoping that is it. On the flipside, I am seeming to want to hold on to something that cannot be improved upon. It is like I am already solely responsible for it being stale. The things that have been said, especially the blatantly hurtful things that some feel valid reasoning behind, seem to be red flags catching a strong breeze.

If this does not work out, is it going to be 2007 all over again? Will I only have my dreams to chase? It sucks when the other party is well liked. They did not believe in my aspirations then, do I want to add another motive for them to discourage me now?

Can I even chase that brass ring with nothing else going on in my life? Wrestling fell apart because it was all that I had after the rest of my life was left in utter shambles. It was the only thing good in my life, and it was not working out like I needed it to. Without any positive relationships to pick me up, everything was pointless.

I am damn near 13 years older than I was then. It makes me wonder what I have done with my life if I am presented with the same scenario. That is one long-ass episode of "Russian Doll." Maybe I am just too attentive and have missed all my chances to die to restart the story back at meeting Stacia's biggest dependent's dealer.

It is either death or a trip back to the partial hospitalization program. Neither of those seem like good places to be. The one thing I would get the most shit for from my better quarter (the cat will always get half) is dying (the one thing she says I cannot do). As for PHP, cope does not help those without hope.

There should be a third option. Get busy living. Sadly, I do not have an Andy Dufresne to leave me a lunchbox with cash. Fuck, that tree is not even standing any more. The irony of having the last name Stevens.

Tower Loan might get me the cash to rent a building and a ring. The talent will have to believe that my zombie-wrestling comedy "Main Event of the Dead" is worth the effort to film (okay tape, but it is all digital either way). To request a treatment, email me at russthebus07@gmail.com.

Or I should just take any thing I can get a hold of and risk crossing the border to Zihuatanejo. The Pacific has no memory...then what was the point of all this blogging?

https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b7/d5/ea/b7d5ea127b96dc1494c1f1b1a3f7bd14.jpg

In the Box Too Long: Schrodinger's Undesirable Cat is Undenyingly Tripping Balls

Enter the dream state of a guy who spent the better part of a year determining if I was alive or dead to the world.

It was not Central Illinois, I knew that for sure. The first recollection of the dream was taking a seat, talking to a mark about El Phantasmo versus Robbie Eagles from Best of Juniors from this year, the mark holding it higher regard than the worker of course.

Then the venue changes to a place with high enough ceilings for a ring, and I was frustrated by the glass pawn/jewelry shop like displays where seats should be. Maybe you could fit the Women of Wrestling Ring in it (I swear that is 12' by 12' whenever I see those with skills equal to mine on AXS TV). The executive vice presidents and Chris Jericho are all talking about merch, obviously, and plans for the All Elite Wrestling. As for me, it felt like I was being blatantly left out of the goings on.

They wanted me there, but did not have a reason. Was it a display of respect that I had paid my dues despite having nothing to offer them? Was it a way of mocking me because I would never be allowed to pursue my first passion? The prior sums up how I feel about the Chicago wrestling scene that I gave my all to get into. The latter sums up how Downstate refuses to give me an opportunity to because I was trying to get better rather than get over with the salt of the Earth. You know...morons.

I woke up disturbed and feeling helpless. 45 minutes before my alarm was set for an opening shift did not improve my mood. Breakfast is a meal I tend to skip and social media was not a good place for a depressed person to be. Going back to sleep could have two consequences: pride that I did it or anger because it just felt pointless.

I did my best to come up with the least desperate-sounding tweet:

Woke up from a dream and now in an #existential crisis. I am pondering if I let my empathy get the best of me. It seem I was either used up or considered an idiot for it.

Why would anyone like that on Facebook? At least this plea got more of a response than the ones where I ask everyone to migrate to Twitter.

In the end, I brushed my teeth before I made coffee was the result. So I get on the road to head to the job, arrive 20 minutes before we can open the place, drive to kill time (and unfortunately gas before I head to Peoria for a dentist appointment), and buy a five-dollar coffee drink. Damning my attempts to be fiscally wise seems to be the only thing I excel at, and it is something those closest to me love to remind me of.

The time spent between waking up and fucking up was spent pondering why I get locked out of everything I want to be a part of. Of course I think back to the beginnings of the pursuits and how they all went to shit. With wrestling, it started by my desperate nature to get into it after college that I was an errand boy from guys to dim to call con men. It turns into doing anything to get the new ownership's promotion over while they would not put me into a position to succeed because of my ambitions to make a living in the business.

In the meantime, you are tied to the whims of the guys who want to say they can get you booked elsewhere, but they never really had any plans to put you in a good spot. They knew your reserved nature kept you from demanding promoters' attention, so they would exchange a ride and food to serve as your agent. The moment my life got tough, the moment they found another ride.

I trusted the wrong people, there is no question about that. What one can ask is whether I was so giving because I thought it would serve my own ends. All I can say about Downstate wrestling is that, at some point, all of these people were my friends. And we all part of the same team, and I wanted the team to succeed. If I knew away to help out, I would help out. Even when the rift between my goals and theirs started, I would still work on trying to make the product better.

The dream just brought back that feeling of being ignored. If I am going to be ignored, why am I even going to be there? Because I am told otherwise.

Unfortunately, this has been the majority of my adult life outside of wrestling. My best friend inspires me to write about my crazy journey and wanted to make it into something greater (comic book was the initial plan). She was feeling abandoned and Stacia, the first person to encouraged to chase my dreams, had died before I could make her proud. We supported each other through a hard time.

Once she got her confidence back, she went back to the shitty people who were supposedly influential and left me without a support system. My family were just hoping I would grow up. Supporting my dreams was not an option, hence the desperation to devote three-years of athletic health to Peorians playing super hero. That was not appreciated as anyone telling me not to grow up should not be worthy of my time.

Growing up is all my family wants me to do. I guess I should be grateful for their dedication to those hopes because I do not know if I can figure out how. If I am not going to be happy, why would I want to do it? Writing and wrestling are what I love. Video games and movies are fun, but they are just that. Working a job, regardless if it is good or not, just to sit in front of the TV feels like a waste of life.

I have to spend money on the moment to stay sane and to fund any chance I can to get involved with my passions. If I succeed, the differences will be made up. The problem is that I do not know how to and no one is willing to help out a guy who will not let another person suffer if they can help it.

And to that last statement, I get ridiculed for giving a shit about people who are important to me. It could be said that perhaps a majority of these people did not deserve my help, but I have an Anne Frank disposition. If a person will can be the best they can be because of my efforts, than it will be worth it.

Perhaps I am not empathetic and I am just a shitty gambler. Gambling is an addiction that is very difficult to be a functioning addict.

I think back to the time and money spent on ineffective therapy and realize my therapist's approach. If I grew up (swallow my pride and beg my dad to get me back into Caterpillar), I could then find happiness. It makes sense in the fact I was already suffering in life, what could a nine-to-five do to make my life any worse?

Coping is quitting and it could be argued that coping had already taken wrestling from me. And this dream just made me realize that I may only be doing that right now. I have mistaken my efforts to survive as actions to thrive. The girlfriend, the cats, and the good job are not me.

My job is new and does not really serve my skill set. I took it because my previous hospitality job (whom is still fucking with me after I rejected their offer [or lack there of] from the BBB...and had now finished my FTC complaint), made my position impossible to tolerate (Once the guests declared I was the manager without any knowledge of my pay, it was time to go). If I would have waited out my lease, I could head to a city where the hospitality business would be something worth showing passion towards. Instead, I am just making a living now and hoping happiness will just show up. Hope is for the helpless, so I am angry at myself.

It is a good, maybe even great job since I can blog...at least as of this moment, but the only inspiration to want to climb the corporate ladder is money. Dedicating my time to moving into management instead on what I am already passionate about feels wrong. Feeling like I need to stay at this job a year before I can figure out my next move is enough dedication, especially when you come home without any sense of accomplishment and questioning if you are getting the most out of life otherwise.

If I was not broke all the time, the weekends could be mine again. Surely I could then find one Downstate promoter to give me a chance. But, I would be broke and further digging myself in a hole.

I guess all I can do is ask for suggestions on how to promote and produce my B-movie zombie-comedy "Main Event of the Dead". If you need inspiration, send me an email at russthebus07@gmail.com for a treatment of the next great pro-wrestling movie.

Image from the CG Shrines

AEW Lodgings in Champaign and Feline Loopholes (and Buttholes)

Working Too Much or Under Caffeinated?

Judging that my system just logged out due to inactivity, it is probably the prior rather than latter. Of course, by the time I finished that sentence, my bum had to be removed from the chair to file some stuff.

The job is getting easier, and judging that I had a lot of downtime to begin with, blogs from my old Angelfire website "Animeflow" (Visit to see my 2002-concise, rabbit hole free web design work) are queued to be released to the safety of Google out to mid-January. I could have probably watched an episode of "Russian Doll" instead of typing this up, but the new (November 4th) blog/journal needs to get rolling at some point.

Which brings me to the concept that behind my question. Am I putting too many hours in or am I not consuming enough caffeine to pay attention to the rest of the world? What is there to write about?

I tackled Trump's attempt to wag the dog last week. If he only had not pissed off so many of his past producers, he might have been able to pull it off. Wrestling buzz is waiting on the next big booking mistake, so I suspect we will be waiting until the Halloween for that. The way to get any indie wrestling cred is to try and piss off Jim Cornette, who is trying to start a YouTube war with far richer people, so it looks like he is grasping for relevance. My wrestling resume is not going to spark his interest despite influencers digging my tweets of late.

The wrestling brain should really focus on where Tony Khan is going to take out his wrestlers after the AEW show at the State Farm Center. The Silver Bullet just lacks the reputation that Big Al's has. If it was not his hometown, I would just assume drive to Kappa to party and stay in Bloomington.

Just hoping he knows that the I Hotel is an over-rated property. The Young Bucks cannot even host "Wrestlers on the Road Ordering Room Service" there. And that is not only because of the lack of it, or the kitchen's maintenance if Houlihan's makes an exception (in their defense, it may have improved since August 2017). The rooms are pretty small compared to your chain hotels. It is in the middle of nowhere otherwise with Scotty's Brewhouse probably being the closest bar. Since their show is December 4th, it is probably a safe bet that it will be too cold to walk to campus.

As for my absurd brain, the 20 somethings are too busy with rubber band shooting and accidental haircuts to come up with stuff I can rant about. This is the type of attitude that makes me think that I should suggest my girlfriend apply. Surely she could crochet and follow the paper work provided accordingly. We are not relative yet.

This ended up being an excellent spot to transition to the only thing clever that I have come up with this week. It is my latest way to obtain cats for my household.

Would I be breaking the two cat lease limit if I was to form a kitty-centipede? Is it wrong to even consider this idea, even if I promise to let my girlfriend's cat be the mouth? And you need not worry about Eva, she is still cat one. The kitty-pede would be two.

Would it be inhumane? My coworkers suggested that I would be doing cats needing adoption a huge favor. Also, cats lick their own butts. Would being attached to one be that different? Larger cats like Bengals, Savannahs and Servals are hard to come by. This would be one I can cuddle like a body pillow.

Now my idea has officially gotten creepy. It is not just for creating a domesticated creature(s) to spoon with. It is the thought that anime fans and their girly body pillows might throw a creepy kawaii mask on the kitty-pede to have a cat girl.

And I thought the biggest problem with the idea was whether or not the mouth cat would be willing to lick the bum of the ass cat. It was a more inspiring dilemma to deal as I was asking my girlfriend's cat to sing along with me. Too bad Weird Al already covered Huey Lewis and the News's "I Wanna a New Drug". That prevents me from wanting to write anymore than the hook of "I Wanna New Butt."

Image from the CG Shrines

Schrodinger's Cat or Lil Bub: Who Should be in the Box?

August 2, 2014

lilbub.com

If a shuttle passenger says, "you drive like you are from Chicago". Is that an insult or a compliment? Immediately I think that I really need to pursue a hospitality career. My driving is at major metro mastery.

As I drop the seven guests (the vehicle was designed for six passengers) off at their destination, the one holding a bottle of Fireball criticizes my driving:

You need to be more professional when you have that many people in the car. And know where you are going before you say go.

There is a difference between hopping on the wrong way on I-74 and being ignorant. I suppose you can say that is the same as the difference between stupidity and ignorance, but I will call it instinctual. What is there in Peoria that's worth hopping on the interstate for? If you're at a hotel in Peoria, Illinois, it ain't for the shopping. You can at least gamble in Tazewell County. Or have the "Best Burger this Side of Paradice." East Peoria is all about the craps.

May be they were from Chicagoland and needed a break from the style of motorist I was presenting. On the flip side, even without my diversion into East Peoria, they should appreciate making it to the church on time. The five minutes spent bullshitting around to get ready for the shuttle was far more detrimental to their punctuality. No reason (since I was shorted $2 gratuity) for getting me into Audrey Hepburn zone. Just you wait Henry Higgins, just you wait.

Rationalization 61: Fund Me; Fight Me; Follow Me; Fuck Me

It is kind of nice to have some work drama to write about because there is nothing new to report about my life otherwise. Yes, I know, this blog has been about the constant desperation (misspelled that word, originally auto corrected it with "desecration"...some may say that is appropriate) of my existence. But being broke from the paycation has left me broke, so there is no way for me to find any new triggers to rehash the same old bullshit.

Maybe that's why I am still single, no one wants to fuel the flames that will consume my life. Or the ladies are trying to kill my blog. If there is nothing for him to write about, "Main Event of the Dead," will disappear. I'd like to put "fuck you" in all caps, but I think this is a request to FUCK ME.

As long as I have not reached my expiration date (determined by whether or not I get Kasabian tickets), I have to keep writing to try and add a few more years of time on top of that. That'll be done by either succeeding with producing "Main Event of the Dead," my pro-wrestling zombie themed horror/comedy, or someone presents a better distraction. Request a script treatment by emailing russthebus07@gmail.com.

So to take the pressure off of the female demographic, any promotions looking for some creative input or another body for the wrestling ring, drop me a line. Or at least point me into the direction of some fellow nihilist who can take a punch.

Maybe my expiration date should be delayed for the "Fight Club 2" comics to be released. Then again, that may primarily be consumed by hipsters and yuppies who do not appreciate the leftist values the project will represent.

I have other methods of relieving my dilemmas, all that would take is some follows of twitter @MainEventZombie.

To sum up this portion of this blog, a friend on Tinder (which is an indication that I am doing that wrong as well as life) complimented me on attempting to live a life based on the philosophies obtained though martial arts and how to deal with those who do not hold the ideals highly. You either make peace with it or turn bitter.

She left out getting drunk.

August 9, 2014

I guess I should better get the Kasabian tickets. The perfect end to an imperfect life would not workout. There is no way I can afford to take a night off at my preferred place of employment to attend the "Internet Cat Video Festival: Hosted by Little Bub," cross the street, and die of alcohol poisoning/choke on vomit in front of the Billy Williams statue at Wrigley Field.

It sort of feels like I'm putting down Williams, but it would be redundant to die at the feet of a man who made his living as a drunk conversationalist, becoming a diabetic means I may have missed Ronnie's message, and it is in poor taste to suggest playing two. This series of acts would pretty much sum up who I am now (cats, Cubs, and cocktails). There would be no need for a funeral, unless those from Morton High School wanted to say a few words about me, but hopefully they would know the pretentiousness of acknowledging my existence now. It's not like they will get a day off from class.

Perhaps someone at the hotel is reading my blog, thus cutting me to Saturdays only come next month. It is not the kind of concern that I feel I need, but I have to appreciate it. At least there is no confusing angles to this kind of appreciation. A building cannot say I love you (but I think the "Friendly Confines" tries...do not fuck with that Ricketts).

I am a natural entertainer. Why does it feel like no one recognizes it? The lack of spectacle seems to be delaying the inevitable. Or it's the inability to physically pet the cutest cat on the Internet ,with a website, before I leave this physical world. As long as I am paying for cable TV (it is for the POINTS!, until the GAME begins), there is no way I can afford to give Evangeline, the cutest cat on the Internet (technically), a proper website.

Lil Bub, Wrigleyville and the anniversary of one of the most meaningful dates of my life seems like it needs a ceremony involving human sacrifice, like in "Conan the Destroyer". Perhaps missing this event will turn me into the monster Andre the Giant portrayed in that film.

To be associated with Andre, how would anybody turn down booking that guy. Unless the association is based on Japanese bathroom habits.

So, you should follow Lil Bub @IAMLILBUB on Twitter (intercourse Facebook) for foiling my plans, and I should thank her for giving me something to write about. With the lack of space for the second portion of my blog, I can never be too sure if I can write a great piece addressing this "Family Guy" line:

"Hey, baby. How would you like to go black, and then make a difficult decision regarding whether or not to go back?"

Without my awkward promotion of this challenged kitty take over of a 31-year old punk venue, this blog could have been nothing but me talking about nothing (at least the lack of audible/written support for my proposed film, "Maine Event of the Dead," suggest that is the value of this creative outlet). This has led me to this rationalization:

Rationalization 62: Jerry Seinfeld Cannot Have a Meaningful Blog.

Schrodinger's Cat: Kids, Dogs and Rolled Up Windows (Lessons from an Existentialist)

Look at the box office gross rankings (boxofficemojo.com). No zombie movies. Two flicks dedicated to the blissfully unenlightened (way to possibly piss off half the people you're pleading to).

"Main Event of the Dead," will not change this landscape, sadly, but it at least offers you an escape. And with this escape, you can feel as accomplished as that one guy in that Stephen King novel who "crawled through a river of shit and came out clean."

I hope you automatically assumed that was Morgan Freeman saying that statement. If you keep that voice in your head, surely you'll be convinced to help out with the production of this film (like any of you have a Discover or AMEX card to argue otherwise).

Right now, I'm not looking for finance, just support to bring my zombie with simple gimmicks versus pro wrestlers comedy to life. Any suggestions will be appreciated and you can ask for a treatment at russthebus07@gmail.com, or if you can come up with a cool poster to at least have something for the Kickstarter, you will be compensated. Celebrity endorsements would be nice (fuck Rip Rogers's teeth, I've at least bought some merch [just some feedback from the treatment please...thankssss]).

The undead status of this project is forcing me to turn, and my anti-gun stance will only allow the infection to take me. You'd do it for Randolph Scott.

And if you have been keeping up on my blogs, then you know I'm running out of ideas on how to repeat this message, so I need your help more than ever.

July 26, 2014

Time never crawls for me. I am usually clever enough with a time card to prevent that. It just keeps moving forward, and I haven't been able to catch up. Perhaps that's why my life is just a constant experiment in futility.

Rationalization 58: Some of them want (need?) to be abused.

Screw helping out with my movie (sarcasm), isn't there a girl out there who can start using me again (Sarcasm). It would at least blind me of the seemingly pointless pursuit of turning my screenplay into a film and trying to get involved with wrestling cards that actually mean something. I can at least know my pro wrestling career status (Funk-time wrestler, unless the hotel job starts to suck...thank god the vocally conservative night audit girl was all talk about her beliefs).

If you need a list of girls who have broken me down to an overly obedient puppy like state, just send me a request (SARCASM). Bi-annual shag and I'm yours (SARCASM...unless I start believing the status of half of those who unconditionally love me).

On the topic of puppies and small animals that can't defend themselves (that's why cats are awesome, only an asshole who cannot take the occasional scratch can render them helpless), I might as well get into the topic I have been discussing for the past two post.

Actually, this may have to wait till the next post. I'm typing this on my lap top as I wait to head out to the Brody Dalle concert, so I can't tell if this introduction will take up too much space.

Observation 5: Who Wants News when There is Netflix?

Rarely do I watch TV (thanks WWE Network) with the exception of the Comedy Central 10p (CDT) and 11p (CDT) shows. DVD has made it to impractical to devote myself to shows. If you miss an episode as you are trying to get into it, you may end up lost until the DVD release (OnDemand may not come up naturally). Why would you want the DVD of the season if you were not sure you were into it? And by that point, OnDemand is not an option.

Anyhow, being a movie fan, the lack of time dedicated to television programming is not necessarily a bad thing. I still catch "The Soup," so I'll know if it is safe to stare at the TV just like a junkie, and that is all the news I want...unless Comcast can magically fix the lack of MSNBC in HD which they say is an issue with the equipment on my side. With that being said: Everyone who lives at Forest Park and cares about reasonable politics, just claim the station is out of commission. How can one box not like Rachel Maddow?

HLN has to get rid of that fundamentalist cunt (I would like to get some feedback on whether or not you know who I am referring to [that may fuck up my hotel job if she ends up being a potential guest, but this blog should kill that opportunity]), before I stick around to watch it. CNN seems to be a cluster fuck (why am I so angry that I am not trying to work around the curse words). Fox News is nothing more than a tabloid (look at who owns it, and try to correlate purchases of tabloids with viewership [I have a one/one, maybe a two/two observation now]). So, I do not hear much news unless it made it to Facebook.

Facebook for news, that N-word (can we refer to other words starting with N as N-word right?) will not be capitalized. When you live in Central Illinois, that may be nothing more than the worst of Fox News. Regardless, it is all extreme examples of stances, whether or not the one doing the posting is an extremist or not.

That is why when I share a post, it comes straight from the Obama administration (or the Atheist Republic, but I do not go out of my way to follow them). And now all my conservative friends will call me a hypocrite because I am supporting an extremist.

Lesson 1: How to Prepare Them for the Windows being Rolled Up.

Enough about my politics and lets get to cooked kids and canines (oh alliteration). A friend of mine posted a video of a doctor who locked himself in a sweltering car for 30 minutes to show how inhumane it is to those who cannot make enough of a scene to get a passer by go get help.

It's not the parent's fault, it is your indifference. I will get back on track before I start going all Connor and Murphy on you (it would be in an ironic state).

If they cannot figure out how to unlock the car, they should not be left alone in the car, but Lorde knows that is impractical. Well not really. There is always some method of limited conveyance for children and you can just put sunglasses on to let your dog lead you around. The latter may get you a better parking space.

If the dog is too small to pass for a seeing eye dog, odds are you can carry it around like an American aristocrat (whose wealth should be liquidated, while I am not advocating their execution, and upon their death their heads should be stuck on pikes in front of Wall Street), and if that does not fly, just close the purse. It should be cooler than the car.

And despite I am not a fan of pit-bull advocates:

Own them if you like, but do not expect sainthood for owning an animal that can rip out your throat. If a "domesticated" cat cannot do something that violent, the pet is still too wild.

Sorry about that brief rant, as long as there is what you may call paranoia about the breed, whose going to tell you not to bring the animal with you. Still go pseudo blind, you will probably help the dog ownership cause that way, but I would recommend limiting this to convenient stores. You will have four minutes before the cops come to shoot it.

So, there's no reason to lock your kid or mutt in the car, but it does not mean you cannot.

The doctor in the video was a wuss. I've locked myself inside a hot car, windows up, no AC; to nap and sweat out a hangover. I have done this numerous times (cannot sleep it off when your cubicle is in front of your boss's door). I find it therapeutic. So, what is Fido's problem?

Maybe if the dog or kid was trashed, lets say eight hours before hand, they may appreciate it.

With that being said, I am cool with drunk dogs and kids being locked in. Just do not torture the sober.

The problem with kids is, the booze will probably make them pass out before they can get to a truly shit-faced state. So you have no excuse to lock them in a hot car. But since they cannot handle their booze, be sure to draw a dick on their face when you go out. They will not want to draw attention to themselves, thus they probably will not bitch about getting a toy.

Rationalization 60: Don't Take Your Kids to Places that Sell Toys.

If you take your kid to a store, and go down the toy aisle, those of us who practice safe sex demand you buy them something. Do not make the kid suffer for your stupidity. Just tell them WalMart is a grocery store that ends at the crappy clothes that should have just been sent straight to Goodwill.

Or draw a dick on their face before you run errands.

Schrodinger's Cat: Rafiki from the "Lion King" was Full of Shit (Observations of an Existentialist)

Does "Main Event of the Dead" Need a Novelization?

Film nerds should enjoy the concept. Back in the 80's, every movie had one...regardless of the quality. I picked this information up from the "Stephen Romano presents Shock Festival" DVD. If you're in the Peoria, Illinois area, you might want to see if you can get it cheaper at Acme Comics or talk to the Drunken Zombie guys (and be sure to let them know about the blog that directed them to you). What I gathered from this expert of the low budget is that promotion is everything. As long as you tell them the product is even bigger on the big screen, they should flock to it, regardless it the statement is true. If you research some of the novelizations of appropriately budgeted films, like "Gremlins," the novel maybe better.

Is "Main Event of the Dead" Dependent on Tape Trading?

If I'm going to write the novelization, I'll need some matches to base the action on. As for my script, I'm not Vince McMahon. I'm not going to tell the wrestling actors how to make their match move for move.

I cannot leave those pages blank in the novel, so for any Indie Wrestlers reading this who wants the exposure of having one of their matches featured in a book, send the MPEG's my way. We might not get a movie out of it, but after selling the novel at indie shows, perhaps Chris Daniels and Kazarian will want to translate it into a comic book.

July 5, 2014

I was hoping for a more topical title, but my use of "smelling turds" as an equivalent for the douche bags of my past would be misusing the phrase Jon Stewart is trying to trend. Sad since I wanted to contribute to that effort before Urban Dictionary makes it strictly sexual instead of a plea for realization that Republican policies will be the demise of hope in this country.

Anyhow, did he intend not to apply to anything beyond the Republican agenda? Then again, most of the active Mortonites who are Facebook friends follow the feeble philosophy of the elephant. In those friends defense, they are not the types who will make an effort to piss you off because "you can just get over it."

Observation 2: Silence can be Golden.

Silence can be interpreted as a sign of indifference, but when there are people who spout their opinions without considering the effects, some people need the treatment of Joffrey Baratheon music critic.

They may rise up against the authority because of this action, but who would get behind them when they lack the tongue to speak their case? It is an assumption, but I doubt their handwriting/typing skills are nothing to admire. This may further the lesson since they've probably said something stupid to a secretary, so the authority would have the clerical community on their side. In the event of an uprising and summary executions, we would not have to hear them spout their bullshit as they slaughter.

Rationalization 57: We need Ilyn Payne on the Congress Floor.

And that is how the greedy will lose their power. I acknowledge, the concept feels dirty. Praising King Joffrey for anything is like saying Hitler had some good ideas.

So, I guess it was a good thing that I was out about to put up with the bullocks of the HOI. It at least proved that I could still handle it. And on the plus side, I may have developed better relations with people who at least like me, more importantly care for me. Still, it some how felt like the awful were waiting for me.

Observation 3: Rafiki the Monkey Didn't Get It.

Was the awfulness anything new: not really. It just brought up the past. I do not see how I may make a great future, but I do not think I live in the past.

For those who claim I do, here's my dissenting opinion. I think I am just a good storyteller. I like being told good stories. Who does not want to hear a good story with a charming, likable lead?

I guess the past should be a scar ("Lion King" pun) not a scab. Over this week, I ran into someone who wanted to be cool with me (after he ripped on me to others) since we had a similar issue with the same heroin addict in our past. This person wasn't my friend, I find him to be a coward, but I was trying to say water under the bridge. Instead he was searching for further pity on his righteous self by further by burying this person.

I let him get it all out and moved on. He decided to bid me farewell by referencing shooting up his arm. After the first time, I told him not to do that because I had a great friend who died because of that and the one thing I will always try to do is express my admiration of her. He did it a second time, I asked him not to do that because of my reasons. He did it a third, and now I am pondering regret for not beating the shit out of him. What a nice bandage that would be for me, and I would gladly find him some afterwards.

Anyhow, I was able to cover the most of it with the observation. It is still boiling, but hopefully focusing on the silly will keep me distracted enough.

Too bad it may not be proper in terms of memorializing Graham Chapman. It may be proper towards Heath Ledger, but I do not want to give a second rate Joker any further accolade. Maybe I just suck at trying to kill time to make this blog take up two shifts.

July 12, 2014

This is where I should make my pitch for further help with making "Main Even of the Dead." I have a lot of funny, borderline offensive rants to go on, but without a happy (fuck it, less depressed demeanor), how will I be able to focus on that?

Actually, parents taking their kids to their hotel rooms after 9:00 pm would keep my head a little clearer. Are the rambunctious rascals roaming the robby/ribrary (sorry, just picked up an Asian guest from the mall...alright, I need an excuse for further alliteration) punishment for the hotel lacking pack and plays? I know you gotta wear them out somehow, but there are beds to be jumped on. Just be prepared to catch them.

Now, I'll have to write these folks a thank you note for a transition to one of my observations.

Observation(s) 4: The Luxuries of a Hot Car.

Too bad I do not think I will have the web pages space to publish this until the next post..."How to Train Your Dragon to Appreciate Rolled Up Windows."