Friday, June 27, 2008


Its been a long while since my blog was in any way titular. You can either use this sentence to stop laughing, or, if you are more mature than I am, use it to wait until I'm done chuckling at my own joke.

So todays topic will fall under the Zombie rubric. Or, more specifically the Undead. I have a disturbing fascination with all things undeady, which was probably conceived when i was little and was absolutely terrified by horror movies and would lay awake for hours, trying to calm down and come to grips with my own imminent doom. My parents repeated, "they're just movies--they're not real," over and over, but their logic is flawed, because at night, in the dark, a child's bedroom is home to a great many things that have no relationship whatsoever to reality. Eventually, as a class A nerd, I through the full weight of my overactive imagination at the problem, and used the movies own logic systems against them.

Many monsters have a simple set of rules that govern their behavior, and equally simple ways of being vanquished. Laying in my bed I knew a vampire couldn't hurt me because it couldn't get inside without being invited, and if my sister was dumb enough to let one in, why, the crucifix that hung on my bunk-bed shelf would protect me.

However there are an equal number horror stories where logic and rationality are what is directly under siege, and an overactive imagination can only strengthen their evil power. Ghosts, for instance. For every 3 or 4 ghosts that wanted revenge or were improperly buried, there was one or two that just haunted stuff because it was cool. And god forbid my kid brain start to ponder the problem of evil, and come to the understanding that not only was Evil omnipresent and everchanging, but that it was necessary, because how else could we be Good?

One solution was to trick them, to become one of them. To masquerade as one of their kind, because I didn't really want to eat brains and murder and end the world as we know it. But there were plenty of neat-o things the Undead can do, and it wouldn't be a half bad gig, all things considered. So with no further ado, the benefits and costs of being various kinds of Undead:

1. Vampire.
pros- get to change into wolves, creepy mist, or a bat and fly around all over belfries and stuff. Cool capes and fancy pants. Women get all gaspy and hot and bothered when you just walk in the room. Immortality.

cons- Damned. Extremely limited diet. dealing with punk ass slayers. Goth look is a bit tired. Immortality.

2. Ghost.
pros- float through things, move things ever so slightly, generally harmless mischief making. Slick translucent white appearance.
cons- Usually been wronged in pretty fucked up ways. Bound to the clock and calendar, appearing at specific times and places. probably cold a lot of the time.

3. Mummy.
pros- likely were a pharaoh or some other noble personage. Get to take your time (mummies are never very fast). Have all your possessions right there, and if they've been despoiled, well, Scavenger Hunt time!
cons- tattered garb catches on all manner of stuff. Kind of dusty and dessicated.

4. Zombie.
pros- get to hang out with all your friends, be mindless. All you can eat. Get to do a great bit of shambling. impervious to harm save blows to the head and fire.
cons- don't ever really get a chance to sit down, rest. if zombies 'win,' they will eventually run out of food, what then? Constantly losing limbs, hair, physical cohesiveness.

all this and its still not time to go home from work.

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Friday, June 06, 2008

Dread Pirate Hillbilly

And yes, if the Simpsons taught me anything its that they prefer to be called Sons of the Soil. But that is not the word that was used to describe my appearance this past Tuesday now was it?

Keep in mind I was asking for it. The following things all more or less scream 'bumpkin' or at least don't scream 'latte-sipping Prius driving America-hating Elitist':

red and blue plaid shirt.
old baseball cap worn forwards.
long hair in back, not too combed.
6 days worth of not shaving.

In short, a colleague of mine, whose first language was not English told me quite bluntly that I looked like a Hillbilly. All i need is a jug of something with XXX written on the side and a shot-gun and I'll complete the stereotype.

West Virginia or bust.
(btw, the above image was one of the first to pop up when I googled 'plaid.' scary!)

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