"Belief in one's identity as a poet or writer prior to the acid test of publication is as naive and harmless as the youthful belief  in one's immortality...and the inevitable disillusionment is just as painful."

An Abrupt Tale of Hitchhiking

I once knew a family of Leather Tramps. Well, they weren't all active participants, but they were sympathizers for the most part. A son, two daughters, a mom and a pop; the parents had traded in their hand gestures years ago to take on the roll of enablers, drivers, people that make the system work. And in doing so they instilled the values of the Tramp onto their children: the mark of leather, if you will. In their youth they had put themselves into the hands of strangers, noblemen and women behind the ribbed ring of the road, people merely looking to help their fellow occupants travel more quickly to their places of destination. Lovely couple those two had been, and while the better part of my understanding of them comes from mere tales of the streets, I consider them to be my friends nonetheless.

Had they been? Yes. 

Individuals? Of course. 

Inseparable? When they could get away from everyone else.  

They had learned to trust the road, the people that inhabited it, and the fruits that it was willing to share. I learned most of what I know through the children, people closer to my age, the sensibilities of the Leather Tramp being amplified through them. And all I can say is that I'm grateful for that.

The only son of the family, the first born, had taken to his young parent's lifestyle quite quickly. Who am I kidding? He didn't have a choice. In the beginning, or his beginning I should say, a couple of Tramps, man and woman, or boy and girl I should say, gave birth to a well sized child in the hospital of a small town quickly lost amongst the paved concrete arms stretching out from it in every direction. His name was pending, she said. One can't simply name a person without rational thought, for a name is permanent, more than anything else. The argument has always been that a tattoo should have deep meaning, hours and months of relentless thought put into it, for once it is done, it's "forever." Well let me tell you, the name you are given is the tattoo of a lifetime and beyond, it will outlive the damned ink covering your arms and legs, your face. It will last until you are dead and gone, buried and burned, uplifted and tampered. 

The car was running, he said. They had to go. Despite the objections of doctors and staff the boy and girl and boy got up and out of the town. There was no car, there was no running, they walked out of that hospital and to the nearest stretch of highway, stuck out one thumb and flagged down the soonest vehicle. The boy would never see his place of origin again. Whatever had been going through their heads at the time is beyond me, perhaps beyond any sort of normal comprehension, only they would know. And their son, still pending, was now a part of whatever world his parents had immersed themselves in. Sorry kid, this one's up to them.

Years passed, rides were had, locations changed, the boy and girl began to grow up, while the littlest boy became still younger, they said. They said, they said; they said that a baby is not a person, it does not resemble an adult in anyway. A baby is still a creature of the body, an extension of two. Once an infant becomes a child can any sort of comparison be made. But this is only what they said.

The man and woman settled down, permanency was not their strong suit yet they willed what was best for their family. Growing up in the suburbs, surrounded by streets, this is where they decided to call home. They made sure to pick up fellow Tramps whenever they could. They didn't listen to the chattering voices that filled the pages of the newspaper or the cover of stories, hitchhiking was as safe as it had ever been. Their son, still pending, had grown up sitting beside the random strangers, the ones using their family car as a portal. Covered in their musk, he was never more than a few feet away. This is how it was, and how it seemed it would always be, this was comfort. 

Time has a way of speeding up, slowing down, like the rate of an engine caught in traffic. Girls were born, they were twins, and even more strange, they had been named. Ebony and Ivory. The keys to harmonious difference. They grew up to be beautiful, more than their names had ever thought possible. They had aura, they knew, and no one else but their parents could have guessed that the aura attributed would allow them to discard their names forever, if they wanted. Permanency of name apparently had no meaning to them. But that is another story.

The children grew up, together, at once, believe it or not. But then, one day, it all began to fall apart. The son had begun accepting rides from whoever would give him one. He no longer felt as comfortable sitting in the cramped enclosed space with his parents, he felt as if he were being smothered. The lifestyle his parents had grown up apart of, bestowing on their children and continually contributing too had begun tearing their tight knit Leather Tramp family apart. Ebony and Ivory, the lovely twins, were a little more skeptical about the whole idea all together. Their upbringing had not mirrored their brothers, they were not born amidst the ever flowing concrete stream, they had been created amongst solidarity. And for this reason they did not completely understand what there brother was going through, and why it had become such an elephant amongst the entire family. They began to avoid everyone as much as possible, basking in their own aura. They were different. 

The lovely couple were not completely in tune with the nature of their problems, they could not comprehend that it was their teaching that started this negative trend of imploding family dynamics. So they continued; the turmoil that was their lives was merely a white noise surrounding them. The life of the Leather Tramp had taken adverse effect. And then one day, their son, still pending, was gone. They did not know and could not know where he had gone; how could they ever search for him, without a name he was lost forever until he allowed himself to be found. Sure, the parents had theories of where he had gone, that perhaps maybe he had gone looking for something. This was all they told me, or so I'm told. 

The beautiful, lovely twin sisters had now been estranged for several years. They had stuck with each other through it all, indifferent to anything their family did. The sobs of their parents were hardly enough to send them from their room. But they did, they came. Seemingly more enthralling than anyone in memory, they stood within the door frame, capturing everything beauty is, showing their condolences.

Unfortunately, this is where the story ends, for now at least. The lovely couple, the lovely twins, are long gone, along with their aging son. The daughters packed up their bag and left as soon as the shock of their brother's disappearance had settled. They had agreed when asked to look for him, but chances are they were merely acting polite. Their home, wherever that is, is gone. They blaze across the land, hand in hand, their identical beauty burning a permanent memory amongst the folk in every town, inspiring those willing to create what cannot be replicated.

Their folks, mom and pop, are dead. Years now, I guess it has been. Still quite early on in their lives, they had picked up Leather Tramps all over the country, they had seen everyone and everything that could be picked up. Until one day. Pulling over at the side of the highway on an unbearably hot day, they picked up who they would soon learn to be notorious vagabond and murderer Dell Klaten. He had seemed nice enough. His mannerisms were everything you can hope to expect when picking up a stranger: he was friendly enough to smile, polite enough to talk, and hygienic enough not to smell like several week old trash. Even as they had dropped him off at 6845 Corline Drive, the address that would soon be home to several cold, bloodied corpses, he had given a wink and closed the door himself.

Oh well, who were they to know.

Shortly after both passed away as they were caught in a storm upon a friends sail boat. Tragic.

Or at least this is what I've been told. 

I Have Been Horribly Misinformed

Despite having to eat all eighteen hundred fifteen of my words, I am pleased to introduce the greatest thing I have seen in a long, long time.

All we get is a Legend

I just beat The Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker, so.......
------------------------------------------------------------------

All opinions are relative to personal interest: what I think is good isn't automatically good because I believe it to be so.

There are times though where quality can't be disputed:

The Legend of Zelda (TLOZ) is considered to be one of the greatest video game franchises of all time, and it would be next to impossible to argue against that. Not only have both the critics and fans spoken, but the numbers don't lie. TLOZ has sold roughly 60 million copies, covering 15 different games, and various different consoles. And while it may seem obvious to say that Nintendo finds this series to be one of their most important, it has a lot to compete with, mainly the Mario, Donkey Kong, and Metroid series. The importance of TLOZ lies in its characters, it's expansive environments, and the insoluble message that has been embedded in it's protagonists search for the all mighty Tri-Force: courage, wisdom, and power. The way I see it is that The Legend of Zelda is a light hearted hack-and-slash approach to learning some of life's most valuable lessons.

As I discussed last week, the video game industry is teaming with potential movie ideas. Although things like The Super Mario Bros. have bombed both critically and within the box office, I expressed my unyielding belief in the successful possibilities that video games have.

The greatness that is The Legend of Zelda is an idea that has never been tapped. The amazing story of Hyrule's Hero of Time, Link, saving Princess Zelda has spanned almost twenty five years, and to my knowledge Hollywood hasn't once taken any sort of stab at it. Shigeru Miyamoto, the genius behind many of Nintendo's biggest titles, including Zelda, was once quoted as saying "Why can't video games tell a story?" This quote is a bit outdated, twenty years in fact, but it makes me think further about the attitude of Hollywood. Why can't movies tell the the stories of video games? Especially a story such as this.

If all it were to take was for Hollywood to know that this idea was a shoe-in, one might as well look at the comparable relationship many factors of The Legend of Zelda has with other successful movies:

To start things off, the vast setting that occupies the legend of Zelda is as expansive as it gets. It has a little bit of everything from where a director could choose from forests, oceans, mountains, and valleys to have his story set in. Whether the director would choose to completely adapt one of the many games, or opt to write a new story, he would have a variety of locations to choose from. The Legend of Zelda is considered to be of the high-fantasy genre, a parallel of our earth, relatable to that of the world of J.R.R. Tolken: Middle Earth, the locale of The Lord of the Rings. LOTR has been one of the most successful adaptations of all-time, and while its eminence has largely to do with the master-authorship of Tolken, it was the film's stunning backdrops and visually captivating images that pulled in the audience from the beginning. Designer Miyamoto suggested that in the soon to be released The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword, his stylistic influence came from work of Claude Monet. The Legend of Zelda would undoubtedly be able to follow a similar directorial approach as the LOTR's in it's stunning scenes, and if not by anything else, attract audiences through it's visibly wonderful portraits.

Link as the game's protagonist comes as an iconic a role as the best of them; think Harry Potter but bigger. His childish demeanor, either as a youth or an adult, acts as a universal beacon of a spirited heart. His open eyes and childish grin, accompanied by the occasional yelp or sigh, creates a character not only lovable to mass audiences, but relatable in his disposition. And how could we forget his thought provoking catchphrase!? Along with all these mirthful character traits comes the toughest kick-butt attitude you've ever seen!...But honestly here, Link is a go-getter, and a fierce one at that. His strong moral fiber to do what is right, take down evil, and save all those who need saving is by far his most reputable characteristic. Physically equipped with various weapons and items, proficient in all, magical in some, and toting the mental stamina of Jeru the Damaja, Link can be considered not only the greatest of warriors, but the wisest of introverted extroverts. As the Hero of Time, Link is without knowing the significance of the tick of a clock. As we pass by, Link stays the same. And if Hollywood can't work with that I don't know what the fuck else to say.

And I won't get into any further than this, but having a supporting cast such as Princess Zelda, the fairest in all of Hyrule, and an opposition lead by the great power Ganondorf, the character dynamics are ripe for a deep-writing..........The classical story elements are all in place: a young man finds himself, discovers good and evil in the process, and is forced to rise to do what is right. A story neither over or under played, the perfect story: An adventure of the ages.

The Legend of Zelda series has been running for twenty five long years, and it's longevity will last longer than we know. As there have been fifteen games in total, Hollywood would have no issue contracting at least a trilogy of movies, thusly making mad cash and furious dough. If we're lucky, these movies won't be half bad in their production either. Every time the latest edition releases we won't have to drop our heads and sigh like the majority of us did during the new Transformers trailer, or maybe when we all found out about the idea of another three Pirates of the Caribbean movies. With it's long history, Zelda has acquired myriads of fans over the years, assuring that people young and old will show up for it's theatrical release. The younger kids, having spent countless hours playing Twilight Princess, learning to appreciate the relic that is Ocarina of Time, will be interested in seeing their favorite video game hero on the big screen. The older folks, remembering their days surrounded by Nintendo's and Super Nintendo's will obviously come a-running. Because deep down, everyone's a kid, right? Pulling the sword from the Temple of Time.

This is what I offer you, Hollywood. Can you not grasp it's glory?

Or maybe you're wiser than I thought.

Because in the end, I don't really believe that The Legend of Zelda would be a realistic idea for a movie. In fact, I'd go as for as to say that I don't even think it would be any good. Link is one hell of a guy, there's no arguing that. The guy rocks a cleverly thought out tunic, it's calm sway acting as a commentary on the unisex garments of the period, stabbing and killing all at the same time. But when playing these games what don't we ever get to hear from our fine hero? That's right, a fucking voice. I mean, sure, he makes noises, expressing himself in a way most people wouldn't even fucking understand, but that's not talking. For the most part he runs around interacting with whoever he wants to...refusing to make a goddamn sound. I mean, he uses a fair amount of hand gestures, so I guess that has got to mean something. And he blinks a lot too, he's constantly breathing, so perhaps combining all these things together leads to some sort of pre-oral communication system, but I don't know. What I do know is that a speechless leading role is going to be way harder to appropriate than even a character with Schwarzenegger like dialogue.

Anyone who has ever played a Zelda game knows what the "hero" is actually like. Sure, Link is cast in a heroic light, ultimately completing a quest that few could fathom, but pushing all that aside, one will find where the real Link resides. This is the Link that Hollywood would be left to work with.  Imagine this: The Legend of Zelda, the movie, run time of roughly two and a half hours, an epic journey filled with heart-pounding adventure, coquettish romance, and a booming soundtrack...half of which follows Link smashing every fucking pot Hyrule has to offer. Can you picture that? A movie focused on some guys fucking OCD smashing everyones pots. I swear, the better part of The Ocarina of Time consists of entering someones home and well before you even acknowledge the resident's right to personal property, there's broken porcelain strewn all over the floor, and a raving Link scavenging for the loose rupees. It's havoc; a movie can't work with that. I'm fully surprised that the NPC's in these games put up with Link's shit. At this point the pot count must be reaching into the millions. I would completely understand if the folk of Hyrule made a unanimous decision to toss out Link and fend for themselves, thats your shit he's braking! Come on, Link, get your act together!

Realism is not one of The Legend of Zelda's strong suits. Fantasy isn't anything new in the realm of main stream film, enough people are comfortable following fantastic plots that they would be willing to suspend their disbelief for the sake of Zelda, but this is not the realism I am referring too. It would be an understatement to say that Link enjoys rolling. I mean, when your main source of transportations is rolling, I don't even know how to describe one's enjoyment of that. Link has mastered the roll in a way in which it makes him faster than if he were running. I know, you know, the use of the roll is paramount in the newer Zelda games, it is movement. While I don't doubt that the opening scene to the Zelda movie would be fucking genius mind blowing, a helicopter shot following Link from high above, zooming in causally as these certain scenes always do, him literally barreling through a grassy valley, a constant stream of rolls keeping his speed well above forty kilometres an hour, fucking triumphant, tear-shedding, Japanese National Anthem, Koji Kondo crafted love ballad. Despite that, despite all that I just don't see it going anywhere. I don't even think rolling up and down stairs is physically possible.

So yeah, Hollywood, your call. As much as we'd all love to see Link tear some shit up, Zelda included, these kind of shenanigans may or may not be applicable to the silver screen. And if you decide just to scrap the whole idea, you can always re-release the old TV show.

Only Time Will Tell

I'm extremely interested in the context behind this video.

Movie Making Part Three: Where Dreams Go to Die

Yeah, I skipped the second section, so what? I was getting so fucking fed up trying to properly articulate what I was trying to write that I decided to just scrap it. It's still sitting there in the 'Edit Post' section, I can come back to it later if I want. But I doubt I will.

So here it is---------------------------------------------->

The video game industry is a booming market: not only are they constantly innovating technology at a pace that few can keep up with, but the amount of original ideas being produced within is a little nutty. This being said, one must take into account that video game companies have the freedom to be a little more out there than other industries. They're catering to such a large demographic that the created ideas cannot all be one dimensional, some must be multidimensional, and others must be completely goat shit insane. It would seem that many game developers approach their creations with little to no discretion, throwing whatever crosses their mind into the mix. Sometimes this works, sometimes it doesn't; some games are so significant they find a place within culture, others, well, are left to be pooed on by most people. To make a game that transcends the very idea of video games is what I see as the ultimate win for any developer.

And this is where Hollywood should start opening their fucking ears. Adaptations of books and other forms of media are commonly the most popular, most successful movies made. While on occasion I have a problem with Hollywood's lack of originality, there really is nothing I can say or do about it, so why not endorse this very same thing? Video games are a Hollywood gold mine. And it's obvious that movie execs understand this, gaming is impossible to ignore. All the people playing video games are all watching movies too. But producers and the rest of the Tinseltown in crowd are just too pussy to really get knee deep in this shit. Nonetheless, I understand their fear. With history as my evidence, video game adaptations have been proper fuck ups in the past.

Example one, brief, but solid. Hitman, developed by IO Interactive, this popular game franchise follows the killer exploits of genetically modified super bad ass Agent 47. Honestly, this bald motherfucker, Agent 47, was pretty much the pinnacle of my personal bad assery growing up. He had everything: guns, attitude, a trim suit. The only thing he wasn't equipped with was a full head of hair and a properly developed emotional core. With me as his navigator, he fucking ran shit on the Nintendo Gamecube.

Cue meddling Hollywood movie producers. With Hitman becoming a huge hit across many gaming platforms, the film industry saw an opportunity to make a little coin without producing even a smidgen of creative output. Why not just steal this idea? We pay them, we make money, double advertising ploy, everyone wins! No, I'm sorry, but no, this isn't the way it works. Movies don't make themselves, it takes effort and a little bit of intelligence.

First off, do not hire French director Xavier Gens. Yes, I know, his name is Xavier, very cool. But just because he was named after a psychic, bald genius does not make him the correct choice. Did the producers even bother to do a background check, maybe a quick IMDB look up? This guy had only directed a bunch of fucking French shorts, and one god damned French TV episode. Not the best resume when you're looking to make a proper film. No, not at all. Secondly, Timothy Olyphant as Agent 47. Probably a good try, I say probably because I really don't know who would have been better. Probably should have taken a no name actor, but that's just me. Olyphant was good enough, he followed the Frenchman's erratic direction, pulling the trigger when he had too and...reloading the Double Ballers when he had to. I mean, FUCK, the guns were called Double 'Fucking Tight' Ballers, how does Hollywood take that and fuck it up? It's hard to say, really. My best guess is that Xavier sat down and played Hitman for around fifteen minutes. He skipped all the tutorial, story garbage and got right into the thick of it, shooting his pistols and slashing his knife, believing he understood what the game was all about. I'm sorry, but you have appeared to miss the mark. Just because you're adapting a video game does not mean you have to stay so true to it that you forget to leave out a story. I mean, come on. It's called an adaptation for a reason.

Phew, sorry, that was a bit much. Not as brief as I would have hoped.

This article would be incomplete without mentioning the grandfather of all video games, and the movie that was made about it. As I'm sure it has already crossed your mind, I will just come out and say it:

Super Mario Bro's.

The reason I completely understand Hollywood's woes in producing video game adaptations stems directly from this, the king of all backfires. Super Mario Bro's, made in 1993, is loosely based on the biggest video game series of all time, Super Mario. I can safely say that a person who doesn't know who Mario is either an infant or mentally incapable. Mario is honestly one of the most famous people on the planet, and his presence is felt everywhere. We've taken him on adventures, driven cars with him, played golf and taken him to the Olympics, learned to paint, and ultimately become better people because of all of this. Mario, and his retard brother Luigi, have played roles in more lives than not. He's the reason any person becomes a plumber, and why all basketball player's have hops, because their main man Mario has led the way, he's been trailblazing since day one. And because they decided to make a movie about him and his exploits pretty much at the beginning of film itself, they forgot to do him justice.

I had to sit down and watch it again to realize what this thing actually was. You can't talk about this movie and just try to vaguely piece together what actually happened, you need to experience it to really know what's going on. The best realization I had about this movie was that it seems to be the first adaptation that really darkens the original material, trying to make it seem more realistic. Way before Batman Begins, or the Hulk, or any of those realistic super hero movies, was Super Mario Bro's. It's Mario and Luigi, two Italian bums, barely getting by, fixing water pipes, pretty much living in their own filth as they hover just about the poverty line. They're nobodies, no Mushroom Kingdom, just living in New York. Where are the mushrooms? The go-karts? The tennis? There nowhere, that's where. Warp that into your green pipe and smoke it. Your childhood just got shit on.

All of the villains in this movie look like they've been sculpted out of feces. Honestly, this is what a Goomba looks like: a shit head. Since when was a Goomba a seven foot tall over baked, sun tan victim? If I recall correctly they were supposed to resemble a mushroom, an evil mushroom. Instead, they completely changed the entire idea behind them and turned them into "de-evolved" humans, not shiitake mushrooms at all! Good God, what have you done! The Goomba as a species "is considered one of the most iconic elements of the Mario series" (wiki), described as the "everyman." Are you hearing this?! What have you done to the everyman? We as gamers are the everyman, and honestly, I don't feel properly represented by this prairie dog.

Super Mario Bro's had a lot of things going for it. It had the history, it had the characters, it had the fan base, it even had a solid cast. Although Dennis Hopper, who played Bowser, never properly embodied the King of Evil, he's a pretty nasty guy: it sort of worked. Mario and Luigi were portrayed by Bob Huskins and John Leguizamo, and they pulled it off. They had chemistry, they seemed like brothers, maybe not Mario Brothers, but definitely some dead beat Italian brothers who got thrown into some crazy, bad mushroom trip, shit. But all this wasn't enough to salvage everyone's favorite plumber's movie career. He was slighted, incredibly, by all those foolish individuals up in the Hollywood Hills. They couldn't even credit his name correctly. Mario Mario? Luigi Mario? Their last fucking name is not Mario, my God. Although at times this information has seemed a bit hazy, Nintendo officially has never released a last name for the two brothers. But! They have gone out of their way to state that their last god damn fucking name is not Mario. How stupid!

Alright, I'm sorry, I can't continue. Ranting does no justice; watch the movie, hate everything the earth has ever produced because of it.

If you read the first part of this article you may be thinking that I'm a bit of a hypocrite, that I'm critiquing for the sake of critiquing. The thing is i'm not. Bottom line, this movie is legitimately bad. Second, they fucked Mario in the ass!

Hollywood, despite all this, I'd really appreciate you giving the video game industry another go. There is so much out there that would fill seats, I promise you, you'll make money.

 And if you're smart about it, you might help that game transcend video games all together.

Indian Warrior

It's an early Wednesday morning, as you can see: 12:57 AM. I'm watching Game Show Network, as I always do. Card Sharks, mediocre high-low game that was aired for a span over twenty years. Nothing too exciting is occurring...until...Dilanjan!

PSA

A Public Service Announcement brought to you by the
Cool Kids.

Movie Making Part One: Amateurs

Making a movie is something a lot of people could do, but only few get to experience. While it is easy for anyone to own a video camera and film things to their liking, piecing together a story and articulating it clearly is a much different kind of 'film.' This being said, the amount of material that makes its way on to the internet, or not, is seemingly infinite, allowing us as viewers to be treated to many levels of quality. The particular individuals who make films professionally are the lucky candidates who were selected from the extensive pool of people who can point and shoot a camera, carry an idea, or unfortunately: have a ludicrous amount of money. There is no way to necessarily tell whether or not those chosen are any better than those who were left behind to create for fun, or the ones that fill the demographic of starving artists and failing film strips; this is just the way the film industry works. Some are compensated and appreciated for the work they do, while the rest are left to nothing. This is the sad truth of any art.

While the entire point of any major production is to make it accessible to the masses, the idea behind film is to send a message to the audience. It is the ability to perceive these messages that bridges the gap between the makers and the watchers. Both those who wish to make, and those who have tried to make, will have to settle with experiencing the works of those who do make. Therefore it comes as no surprise that films play an important part in a vast majority of people's lives. Watching films connect the watcher and the maker, but more importantly, it connects the watcher to other watchers. I find that other than music, the most common ground I have with acquaintances and strangers alike, is film. Knowing nothing about another person, I can share with them a conversation of veiled importance about many aspects of film. I say veiled because while our conversations may lead us to believe that we are in fact intelligent, witty people, ultimately whatever we're talking about is of little or no meaning.

But what I find is that for some, critiquing film is more enjoyable than watching film. These conversations generally do not follow the pattern of veiled importance, but  rather they are of extreme concern and will eventually lead to retelling. The people who are partial to complete critiques are willing and wanting to tell anyone and everyone who will listen to their considerations. While I hate to judge, I find this to be a very...judgmental practice. The entire ritual of purchasing a ticket, renting a movie, or more prevalently: downloading, a ritual that I have come to cherish, is tainted  by the strict agenda of the individual who would prefer to purposefully tear apart whatever they've just seen. My best guess would be that this attitude stems from the bitter, dead hole that should hold a person's heart. There will always be something that could have been more properly executed, better captured, or smoothly articulated than the director chose to do, this is obvious. But for one to believe that all aspects of a certain film to be misdirected, and that their approach would have been better suited, says a lot about a person's personality. Critiquing at this level strips the director of any credence, and ultimately smears their very name...privately and unimportantly, of course.

To not understand is one thing, to adamantly avoid the messages of film is another, to believe you are a master of direction is too much. Coming across someone who is so passionate in their tell-all approach to reviewing/deconstruction will generally lead to a large amount of people feeling the exact same way about one person.

"Yeah...fuck that person."

A Response to "Craigslist Scams"

While I am not unfamiliar with scamming on Craigslist, it doesn't cease to amaze me when I am caught up in the middle of it. After reading "Craigslist Scams" on blog Baseless Doubt (for original article click clack ), I thought I would share my most recent episode in this seemingly laugh-riot activity, in hopes that maybe we will be able to connect the dots and construct a clearer picture on what these individuals strive to accomplish.


I received an email this morning regarding a job posting I had applied to on February 1st, if I remember correctly, something that was labeled "general labour." The post entailed very little on what the job actually was, I recall them asking for credible people who considered themselves better than others. Instinctively, I had to respond:

"Hello,

My name is Sam Hawkins, and I am a twenty year old university student currently enrolled at the University of British Columbia. Despite this, I only attend class three days a week, which only totals to nine hours, thus, I have a fairly flexible schedule. Although i do not know what the job you offer entails, I believe that i am both responsible and trustworthy. I have attached my resume so you can look over my past experiences, and I can obtain a reference on request. I hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,

Sam."

As I am an unemployed, under-succeeding individual, who needs money, I apply to a high volume of adds on Craigslist with a full understanding of the success rate of return. Still, I try not to let that get in the way of my professionalism. When I replied, I was fully aware of the chance of not being the correct candidate for the job, or the larger chance that no one would ever be hearing from this phantom of an employer. So when I awoke to the chatter of my phone, informing me of a newly received email from the one, the only: Henry Brown, his response a mere two months after the original message, I was still not totally convinced of his legitimacy as an employer:

"Hello,

Thanks for your response to my ad and i really appreciate. Am sorry for the late response, it is due to the extension of my traveling to the state and i was busy with some office work aswell. Anyway Am Henry Brown, my self and my family are relocating to Canada from United kingdom.I will be coming there for a business summit  and also for some private research work. So i need someone who could help me take care of my  home by doing some home work while am off to work and also help in running some errands because my wife is heavily pregnant. I will be offering you $300 weekly. Your service will be needed for three hours  daily at any suitable time of yours , Mondays through Fridays...

  My financier will be making out a Paycheck to you before my arrival, you will be receiving a check of $3,600 out which you will deducting your pay for the first two weeks and you will be using the remaining to buy foodstuffs and other things needed in the house. You will get the foodstuff on the day of our arrival which is April 15th 2011. Actually all flights from the United Kingdom arrives at nights so you will be getting the foodstuff in the morning and making all other preparations. I will also instruct my estate agent to come and pick you show you the apartment and handover the keys to you so that you can do all other necessary preparations before we arrive. Besides, I will also email you the shopping list.You have to get all this shopping before our arrival so that we wont start running around when we arrive, So my financier would be needing the following Information below to make out the payment."

While not nearly as muddled and nonsensical as the message received from Baseless Doubt's Craigslist scammer Reverend Gary, the consistent grammatical errors pays a certain kind of homage to his original message. And while it does not include fantastic ventures to West Africa, it does mention the familiar UK. The two messages are similar in their ability to confuse and scare the reader. If it were not for a select few expressions that he chooses to use, I might even find this an acceptable email to reply to. His profession, it would seem, consists of both personal research, and attending business summits. Some sort of explorer/mountain climber/business man; sounds pretty incredible. His wife is apparently "heavily pregnant," with child I assume, an odd expression to say the least, as it paints a wonderful image of her current condition. Basically an obese pig of a woman hunched over a toilet eating up slop and what have you...pregnant woman things...heavily pregnant woman things.


Sometime, he goes back on what he has just stated, and instead of choosing to delete his past comments, he allows me to take a look at his stream of consciousness, about the "foodstuffs" mainly. That word, foodstuffs...it's not a normal person word. Not to mention his refusal at using proper contractions or concepts for that matter. It would seem that he has trouble articulating the perception of himself, his use of "Am" is somewhat of a replacement, I guess. 


Anyways, like Baseless Doubt author Daniel MacNeill, I fail to see the reason in executing these thoughtless "scams." I mean, they're not even really scams, they're strange role plays where the person in charge has no real end game but to satisfy his partialness towards poor sentence structure. Sure, like Dan's, he asked me for a bunch of personal information that if answered could potentially ruin something about my life. I'm not really sure what part of my life that would be, but I'm wise to his tricks nonetheless.   

Don't Fear Change

Stumbling through the contents of my older laptop, I came across something that can't be ignored.

Effective within the next few days, my blog will be renamed; that includes the URL address. 

As early as tonight, www.100metreracewar.blogspot.com will be no more.

For further posts, please visit....www.allthecoolkidsaredead.blogspot.com

Unless of course that URL ends up being taken...i'll then have to do something drastic.

Crazy, even. 

Despicable List

My hate goes out to all you DJ's and mixers who select the music at clubs, dance bars, or any other venue of that nature. When I request a song, not only do I expect you to have it, but I automatically assume that the very idea of that song will override the shitty music you may be playing at that moment. I listen to enough music to know what would be considered widely acceptable to dance, bump, or grind to. You're bafflement to something as mainstream as that other guy from Outkast vexes me to the point of erratic behavior. 

In the end, though, it's not your lackluster library that really gets to me.

I understand if it's only your job and it's your boss who ultimately controls what is played and what isn't. If it's that slobbering cunt that runs the show, casting an iron curtain over 99% of playable music, I feel for you.

I get it if you have a quota to fill in terms of top forty music, whatever that sounds like.

But please, for the love of God, never, ever, ever tell me that you wished you could play that song, maybe even that you love that song, but OH NO, you didn't bring YOUR playlist, YOUR playlist is at home, filled with all the glorious music in the world!

I fucking hate that. 

Your buddy buddy propriety fucks the piss out of me.

Fuck you!

You have been added to the Despicable List.

True Story

EVOLVE

I responded to a Craigslist personal ad. I had never done this before and had never even considered the possibility of doing it. As if there was some sub conscience  part of me convincing me that doing this would be seen as 'uncool' or 'pathetic.' But I thought 'Fuck it;' I didn't have anything to do today. I was lucky enough to find one that didn't make me feel like some greasy alley dweller looking for a quick fuckeroo. A girl, picture provided, cute, seemingly bored and in the same position as me, was merely looking for someone to chat with. I couldn't think of any excuse not to respond.

 

So, I responded. 

In the back of my mind I was probably hoping for this innocent looking girl to reply with something expected to come from a tortured sex maniac, but I guess today wasn't my day. She sent back what anyone would have expected, a harmless message, conversation. I was happy with this. Anonymous dialog is generally more exciting than that with someone you know. While she looked sweet and responded in a well manner, at any moment she could flip the entire conversation on its head and start off on a tangent about how humans and apes having sex leads to a new form of human/ape species. With the number of individuals of this new species increasing dramatically they would soon become a dominant cultural entity, and eventually would be so integrated into society that the present day relationship between humans and apes would be practically sideways! 

Yes, sideways, people.

It is this chance of unexpected twist that draws me into such situations. 

Therefore,

It will be from this moment onwards that I will not be such a gutless prude on the internet!

Take note!

Learning Something New Everyday

Not like it's a big deal or anything, but I changed some colours with Lamp and some of the fonts. Live with it.

Reader Response

Left Handed Document

I haven't always been left handed; when I was young my parents put a pencil in my hand and told me to do it right. Evidently I screwed that up. People are always trying to tell me that there's a difference between people who write with their left and people who write with their right, but there isn't. Being a lefty just makes me more unique than you.

This document has been written entirely with my left hand. 

Here's my attempt at transitioning into a topic with relevance:

What's the deal with the two different sides of the brain? I'm told that every individual uses one side more than the other. Some are left hemisphere, some are right hemisphere, at least this is what I've heard. People propose that the right side of your brain is used for creative output, while the left is for pure logic. Right side used for creativeness and imagination? Left side for logic? Well, using the right side of my brain, apparently, I imagine that this idea is a complete and total farce. This entire theory was created by some fat jabroni who didn't know his left hemisphere from his left cheek. That's the ass cheek.

To be perfectly honest, I follow the archaic theory that the brain is sectioned into many parts running vertically along the cerebrum. My inner eye, located just above my brow, stares backward into my brain allowing me to perceive the past.

Get it? 

Yet, evidence suggests that I have yet to use any lobe or hemisphere of my brain. So far it has been running quite smoothly in an inactive state. I make sure it's in perfect running order by applying alcoholic lubricant to it four to five times a week. My brain feels great.

My brain looks like potato shit.

Hemisphere, stupid. 

Planter Earth?

No.

Brain..

Formal Introduction

Introducing Lava Lamp

This Is what next time looks like:

Only the Beginning...

We find our two heroes caught between life and death!
Will they really be able to cheat the reaper again?
Who could have done this?

Find out next time.

Coffee

My coffees weak. That's not a good sign, it means there's too much water in it. But I guess i don't really mind. I mean, if there was something to mind about it would be that. This is hard. No, not the coffee; the coffee is far from hard, just thin. I was thinking about something else when I mentioned 'hard.' Please, take your mind out of the gutter. Filth is not permitted in one's mind when they are to be engaged in a mode of appreciation. Yes, filth...that and this unimaginative cup of brown water.

My body is my temple; the beat is flooding my house. 

Rhythm intoxication, a natural state induced by ritual chant.

Oral tradition is a nice tradition. Double meaning. 

What? Sorry. Filthy...: Soilthy. Ha. 

I can tell that that last passage might seem a bit confusing and nonsensical, and for that I must apologize. But now, focus your mind, and read it as a poem.  

Mysterious, am I right?

Wow, now that's a second cup. It seems that the depths of my caffeine stained pot has developed something far stronger than ever conceivably imaginable. My first guess would be that the over use and consistent lack of cleaning the pot has led this here coffee to become the next level of bean.

Free trade coffee beans?

I don't think anyone should trade for free.

My mind is a bit scrabbled right now,

And i don't think I could spell it out to you with only seven letters. 

Unless of course the letters were: D - A - V - C - E - R - A

Figure it out, Wiz Kids.

I just had an apple with my ever evolving cup of coffee. I put the apple in my drink and bobbed for a bit, but after severely burning my crotch and ruining my computer I decided I'm going to take a break from the activities. 

You can't see it but i just took a break from writing and bobbed again.

And again. 

Ow.

You know what's worse than staining your clothes? 

Your skin. 

Bu dum ch.

I'm not crazy about that joke.

FRESH

My team supreme, stay clean

Five Year Plan

-Grow extremely long hair and beard

-Enter small town

-Exaggerate mysteriousness 

-Shave entire body

-Confuse small town folk

-Leave for big city

-Become local legend

-Venture into human taxidermy 

-Remove bodies from freezer