So Army Major Nidal Malik Hasan flipped out and mowed down a couple of his fellow soldiers in a hail of gunfire By now everyone knows about the infamous outburst at Fort Hood. The question that remains is, why? What exactly were his reasons and motivations? I think this is what is haunting the American consciousness the most.

Was he an anti-American crusader aligned with al-Queda or simply another alienated nut disgruntled with his job? The answers seem to pointing in both directions. Not to descend into alarmist hyperbole, but we may be seeing a new movement on the rise: self-made crusaders who will lash out at random, with seemingly no provocation.

Let’s go over the facts as they have been reported so far (although we must remember they are reported by the media, and so are always suspect). Hasan listed no religious preference on his profile, and reportedly had difficulty passing the exam to become a psychiatrist. Family had noted how he was unmarried and later on spoke of his disgust with the Iraq war and his fear of going over there.

This sounds to me like a man raised in a secular world and cut off from his original creed. I’ve known a few Muslim, and as they gradually become Westernized, they shed off the conservative veneer of their old ways and become affiliated with American popular culture. It seems they’re constantly in a struggle to reconcile their old way of life with the modern zeitgeist.

The fact that he went unmarried is also suspect. Not to downgrade those who chose to be bachelors (in fact, I’m one myself), but I can imagine he generally just felt like a troubled and outcast person. On a minor side note, this seems like more pro-marriage propaganda designed to make those who are independent look like violent oddballs. What we’re seeing here is an alarminng response to our disconnected, cold culture in the form of George Sodini, Cho Seung-Hui, and Raymond J. Clarke III: violence and outrageous murder and massacre become the only way for those at the fringes of our (admittedly) uncaring world to express their internal feelings of rage and emptiness.

I don’t think Hasan was a terrorist in training, per se, but rather a man who already wasn’t playing with a full deck and sought out an extreme ideology to blend in with. Thus, unfortunately, he found his way over to radical Islamic sites. Those who fear another 9/11 are panicking a bit too much; like I’ve pointed out, this doesn’t strike me as part of larger plot or coup against America, but rather a tragedy perpetuated by a stressed-out man who sought out a controversial position after the fact.

However, and stick with me on this point, the fact that an Army psychiatrist has gone crazy and formed anti-establishment opinions should raise some questions. I think one issue that’s going criminally ignored here is the stress being placed on soldiers in the military right now. How many times have we read about a fighter going AWOL, coming back home and suffering post-traumatic stress disorder, or (as is the case now) opening fire on his fellow recruits?

The thought of going over to Afghanistan, and the horror stories those who had been told him, made him nervous, and in a “fight or flight” panic frame of mind, he took a gun and killed a good many people. When conditions are that bad that a psychologist goes crazy, things are baaaaad.

Once again, we see alarmingly lax regulations in the public sector. Despite the fact that he has been acknowledged to have “past difficulties” (which have not been elaborated on), the military of all people still let him in without a second thought. Is our collective apathy and laziness really worth crazies like this slipping through the cracks? We’re held up to the utmost standards n other areas of our life, like ludicrous parking standards and paying college tuition. But when it comes to the arguably most important areas of society, this is what we witnessed?

The tension being placed on them in the wake of the Iraq war and the War on Terrorism is unimaginable. And with a seemingly thankless public and apathetic President, what else are they to do? This reeks to me of the evils of the industrial-military complex. We place such a high demand on these men to go into hostile and violent landscapes, with no sense of individuality and humanity, to kill other human beings, all in the name of nationalism and securing our oil so we can pump our precious cars and drive around.

If recent stories are any indication, the mismanagement in the military is severely understated. We’ve seen the horrors and evils of war go all the way back to the publication of books like Slaughterhouse Five and Catch 22.

As well, and not to make excuses and scapegoat the victims, but apparently Hasan had been harassed for being a Muslim. One can imagine those in the Army are, truthfully, not the most tolerant and intellectual people in the world. Even in recent reports and reactions (”will there be another mass bombing from them“, “this is proof we definitely can’t trust those kinds”), we’re seeing anti-Muslim sentiment break out once again.

I caution those who want to blame solely the Arab community and think they all hate the red, white, and blue. Many move over here for a better opportunity and because they think they’l rise up in prosperity if they work hard (oh, how wrong they’ll find that ideology to be). The Arab community has reportedly spoke out against 9/11 and other such extremist attacks.

Remember, Allah has instructed his followers that violence is wrong and any such sinners would not be allowed into the afterlife. It just speaks to the usual strand of nativism that has afflicted this country: we saw it against the Irish and Italian in the early 1900s and recently against Mexican immigrants. Despite the fact that we’re a nation of migrants (and the Native Americans were the sole original inhabitants of this country), we seek to vilify anyone who doesn’t fit into our suburban WASP vision of perfection.

Falcon Heene and his family have become the new American parable. Far from the squeaky-clean nuclear family who worked hard and engaged in thrift to make ends meet, now we have attention-starved narcissists who will do anything to get the spotlight.

The latest Bubble Boy fiasco is a symptom of a decaying culture that is rotten at the core. We have become so numb to stuff like Big Brother and Survivor we think all of us can become celebrities, for absolutely no good reason. We have fulfilled the prophecy of the avant-garde classic The Man With the Camera: now we all live in a fishbowl, gingerly watching each other’s movements, hoping for our 15 nanoseconds of fame.

And so now they’re under prosecution for filing a false crime. Serves them right. It’s become a cliche, but I really do feel the kid is suffering in all of this. To grow up with such d-bag parents and not be recognized as their offspring with tender loving care, but instead just a plot so they can get another network show.

And you know the sad thing? They would get ratings because some people out there would actually bother to watch these clowns. We have become a nation of helpless and paralyzed spectators, wandering to whatever train-wreck spectacle dazzles our attention.

Consider the metaphor; we were literally distracted by bright lights and a giant structure. While Barack Obama was making a historic visit down here at UNO, the rest of the country was caught up in one family’s bid for notoriety. Not to toot my own horn, but it was a historic moment where a politician actually bothered to visit here post-Katrina to address our area, and instead, what is the rest of the country enamored with? Some annoying former reality show participant who has seen his obscure notion of recognition go up in flames, with one last desperate bid for the cameras.

Like I said, this is becoming a symptom of a larger disease of our times. We’re so used to instantaneous gratification, we seem to have forgotten the human element that previously surrounded us. People will regularly degrade themselves in YouTube videos just to get hits. It seems we no longer reward behavior which is intelligent, upstanding, or creative. Now we value and champion whoever is the most outrageous. It’s like a bizarre inversion of social customs: whoever most violates our notions of ethics and civility gets the cash reward. All this angry cynic has to say is: huh?

Granted, we’ve never been the most enlightened batch of chumps to inherit this rock we call Earth. But where exactly did this shift take place? When exactly did we stop curbing alcohol abuse and start glorifying it in popular music? Since when has parenting become less a duty and more a burdensome distraction? Since when have kids become accessories to make us feel better, complement our egos, or just as bargaining incentives? For God’s sakes, why are we so interested in what Britney Spears will screw up at next but won’t even say”hi” to one another as we pass the hallways?

Surely Bubble Boy’s family would love that I’m discussing them right now (after all, that’s what they’re after, isn’t it?). But I feel the one, true Bubble Boy will soon come to claim his crown:

Salutations, dear reader! I assume since you’ve stumbled over here that you’re in grave assistance of help in the English department (and I don’t just mean talking to your advisor). Perhaps you’re a science student and they’re forcing you to take a bunch of classes studying Shakespeare and you could, quite frankly, care less?

Well, you’re in the right place. As an aspiring writer and college student myself, I thought I’d let you in on some tricks of the trade and divulge some trade secrets of us scholarly intellectuals who pour our noses through dusty books and try to figure out just what the hell John Keats was talking about.

And now I present to you, free of charge, your guide to literature classes!

Step 1: Pick a random liberal cause

This is one of the most overlooked but important aspects of literary criticism. After all, what would a text be without ham-handed lecturing? Here’s a list of some favorite ideas authors and teachers love to discuss. When in doubt, just pick one of the below and blurt it out during a class discussion:

• Objectification of women/feminism
• Evils of industrialization
• Alienation
• Loss of innocence (this is a real popular one)
• General “life sucks” thread

Remember, nothing fiction ever turns out happy or looks or the positive or normal side of life. All “realist” works involve complicated love triangles, suicide, conflicted people, and rich middle-class douchebags with nothing better to do than apparently subtly argue with one another. Enjoy!

Step 2: Always overanalyze everything

That’s right, no line, rhyme, bit of dialogue, or ending is ever just what it is. It goes without saying (perhaps you should write it down….HARDY HARDY HAR!) that there is always a hidden meaning or complicated connotation to it. For instance, let’s take this following line:

“Johny walked to the store to buy some bread.”

To the average reader, a simple declarative statement. Not so to burned-out professors who publish in obscure journals. The “bread” represents the earth, as bread is commonly a naturally-grown grain. One could argue that Johny here has a naturalistic urge to escape the smothering confines of suburbia.

Howeverm if you wante dto take a dim and pessismistic view, one could argue going to the store represents being stuck in the chains of commerce, and thus he is a victim of commercialization. It’s all up to you, really. Keep in mind, nothing is ever just something. A cigar may just be a ciagr, but what does it represent, Freud?

Step 3: Ignore the author

There’s this little myth that the author has a certain intende dmeaning or puts himself in his own work. “Why, he wrote the story, surely he brings his own expereinces to the table, right?” you say. Wrong, my naieve friend. A story is just a story.

For instance, James Joyce wrote many stories about frustrated men who seemed unable to communicate with anyone around them. Joyce himself was widely ackowledged to be a belligerent drunk who hated Ireland. But scholars assert he had nothing at all to with any of the emotions cropping up in his stories, even though he kinda wrote them and they sprang from his conciousness. Bollocks.

Many authors have said they have “written poems even [they] don’ understand”. This is commonly understood to be a fancy way of saying “I wrote a bunch of deep-sounding bs to confuse people and look smart”.

Well, hope this helped. Good luck on writing those papers and don’t forget to buy too many clove cigarettes!

The LGBT community continues to be a sadly-ignored and marginalized group in wrestling. It’s kind of to be expected, though; with such a masculine and agressive form of entertainment, there’s hardly any room for positive potrayals of homosexuals.

It’s something that has been on my mind since the article I discussed in my last blog post. Wrestling occupies a weird niche: one can’t deny the latent sexual undertones of two men doused in baby oil and sweat, dressed in their underwear and rolling around trying to gain control over one another. At the same time, the very thought of homosexuality becomes repulsive, because of the redneck contigent out in the crowd and the natural impulse twoards “manly” thought and behavior.

The few characters that have been featured as being outright homosexual were typically effeminate villians who riled up the crowd and played to their prejudices. The first of these was Goldust, who appeared in the pre-Attitude era and was quite controversial for his day. He played off the fears of the audience and the wrestlers, utilizing groping and psychological tactics to play mind games. He really pushed the boundaries and upset the fans.

Now, in the PG Era, when everything is carefully sanitized and re-written so the kids can buy John cena T-shirts, he’s marketed as an “eccentric outsider” who’s supposed to be a parable for anyone who’s felt different or unique. His past flirtations with his opponents are all but gone.

The other memorable performers were, of course, Billy and Chuck. At first they were just your average, run-of-the-mill heels, but soon they began to display affection for one another. The fans were both disgusted and intrigued with this odd behavior. However, it was all revealed to be a ruse and hastily retconned as a so-called “publiciy stunt”.

This was obviously intended to get publicity and really court controversy. They instead copped out and didn’t want to fully go through with it. This isn’t some gay man or angry left-winger ranting here, but rather a fan looking at this from a pragmatic and civil rights perspective.

When gays have popped up in the ring, they’re mainly used as comedic relief. The bookers and the promotion refuse to take them seriously, instead viewing them through the stereotypical lens of bumbling goofs, effeminate fairies, and incompetent wussies.

Ocasionally, however, thee’s a slight condemnation of homophobia, with the flamoyant performers exposing the straight-laced mindset as limiting and playing off their paranoia. Towards Rico’s later face run, he utilized this to his advantage, most notably against Charlie Haas.

The day when we get a normal, babyface potrayal of a homosexual wrestler looks to be a long day in the future. But hey, we got a black President, so never say never in America, right? There are a few perfomers who are actually gay in real life: Pat Patterson and Kanyon. Unfortnately, as is the case with the on-screen product as well, this is maninly kept hush-hush, and to come out the closet is akin to a dangerous tabboo that may lead one to being ostracized and blackballed in the business.

The fact that I’m an afficionado of mock combat is, quite honestly, something I tend not to mention in the company of others. As you can imagine, among friends, it’s something I keep to myself at times. But an article that was recently published in the Village Voice picqued my interest and awakened something that has been laying dormant in me for a long time.

Recently, it analyzed a recent ROH show and claimed it was perfect for gay men because of the latent homerotic undertones inheent in its matches. For those who are curious, you can read it yourself and make up your mind here: http://www.villagevoice.com/2009-03-11/voice-choices/blood-match

Quite frankly, I woulda have expected better than hem than this ciched rubbish. But then again, they’ve always had a reputation of being elitist high-culture snobs, in my opinion. By now, I am quite frankly tired of all the criticisms and insults lodged against wrestling: “It’s fake!” “It’s gay!” “It’s so lame!”

I will not deny that it is pre-planned and choreographed. This fact is indesputable and beyond common knowledge. So, yes, in that sense, it is fake. What’s not fake, though, is all the injuries these brave souls go through. Tell me, how is Edge’s recent torn Achilles tendon false? Watch the guy at the local high school gym promotion bleed from his head and ask him how cartoonish it feels.

I think a good majority of fans are, by now, aware of its rather theatrical style (at least, I hope). In fact, this becomes part of the spectacle. We passionate and hardcore fans have become like patrons at a play production: aware of its expectations, always critiquing the substance in an effort to improve it.

If the whole “don’t watch it because it’s fake” argument holds merit, why even bother with most forms of popular entertainment? Should people stop watching South Park because it’s animated and doesn’t involve three-dimensional flesh-and-blood protagonists? Should I turn off the television when House comes on because I possess the knowledge that in real life Hgh Laurie is not actually an acerbic doctor? There does exist this little concept called suspension of disbelief, ya know.

And speaking of South Park, there was recently an episode dealing with professional wrestling. Quite frankly, I didn’t find it that entertaining. Then again, South Park hasn’t really held my interest lately, what with its reactionary and reducto ad absurdum attacks on liberal ideas. Regardless, it went for the obvious route of viewing wrestling as a male soap opera.

In contrast, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, a superb show if I must say so myself, handled in a much more mature and thoughtful way (as mature and thoughtful as they get, that is). What we may be seeing here is a slight resurgence in the business’s popularity. As us inside fans know, the industry is cyclical, experiencing periodic ups and downs. Now we see a thourougjly postmodern fanbase; aware of its often cheesy limitations, but with a nostalgic reverence tied to childhood experiences with it.

Those who charge that it’s a bit discomforting to see two half-naked men roll around in a ring seem to be projecting their own latent homosexual feelings into the matches. If you see Triple H facing Randy Orton and the first thing that comes to mind is penis on penis, that tells me a lot more about you than it does the nature of wrestling. Not to get all Freudian on you or getting wordy with the old “no u” defense, but that’s how I feel. It’s just more projectile homophobia from people who can’t let that sort of thing rest.

So, with all this said, and all these arguments, let’s get down to the susbstance of my argument. Just why am I a wrestling fans? It’s hard to say, and I find myself gasping for even a muttering as I think about it. Perhaps WCW and WWF WWE got me when I was young. My brother exposed me to an episode of Nitro as a young kid in middle school, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Time went on and I stayed tuned, through the worst of times (yes, I suffered through Brock Lesnar as champion and Katie Vick….oh, what a loyal fan I am). What occured to me is that, as far-fetched as this argument is, is that wrestling is art, in a sense.

Think about it…..it’s pre-arranged, it tries to make a point, it’s performed in front of a group of people, and it often strives to elicit powerful emotions from the audience. So perhaps there is some merit to the “male soap opera” theory. Oftentimes, the storylines revolve around common themes we all encounter in life. Being betrayed by a friend, striving to compete to be the best, running up against arrogant blowhards, striving to be righteous and virtuous in a world rife with corruption. When Batista recently attacked his now former best friend Rey Mysterio, who couldn’t feel Rey-Rey’s pain, having been there before?

Wrestling combines the best of both worlds: playing on the testosterone-fueled desire for violence and bloodshed, with the public cathharsis we’ve come to expect from Shakespeare. In this gritty and bare release of pent-up agression, we fans feel either exhilirated or outraged, depending on whether the face or heel has come out on top. So, basically, RAW is theater with baby oil.

Is it true that some former fans are wandering away in something more raw, more athelic, more, dare I say it…..realer? I thik there actually is some credibility to this argument. MMA, specifically the UFC, has probably stolen away some disgruntled Attitude Era-bros. Even I’ve slightly wandered ove and have began viewing The Ultimate Fighter, without abandoning Vince McMahon’s baby. But even yo have to contend that the UFC is slightly over-the-top. The entrances, the hype, the PPVS, even how they’re building the Rashad-Rampage feud (so much for that, though, what with Jackson straight-up walking out on them). So even they’re not immune from pop culture producton values.

So, in closing, I hope you now see professional wrestling in a different light. As dorky as it sounds, we fans are a passionate bunch, and our fanatacism is not something to be taken lightly, and we are tired of the usual childish taunts levied against our favorite televsions shows. If it persists, we may have to take a steel chair upside your head.

While this may be a little late, I consider it still worth posting. So the authorities finally caught up with Roman Polanksi, eh? Where to start, where to start. It’s such a complex issue and there’s so many sides to look at it from.

On one hand, it’s about time. The guy knows he did something wrong (in the eyes of the law anyway). Why else would he be running around, evading the authorities? To seek asulym in other countries reeks of his knowledge of his guilt and just trying to escape his just desserts.

And all the Hollywood bigwigs rising to his defense makes me sick. They’r eonly defeding him because he’s a personal friend. It pisses me off that he may get off just based on name value alone. If this was you or I in this situation, we’d go to jail, no questions asked.

Those who say there isn’t a class divide in this country are incredibly blind. If you make it in the film or entertainment industry, you can skirt past the moral laws set up in this country. Just because Roman Polanki can toss oyt money to hire a high-rpcied lawyer, he may stand a (however small) chance of beating the rap.

Let’s not forget what he’s accused of; having sex with a 13-year old girl, and this after drugging her up. That’s pretty f’ed-up and reprehensible, no matter how you really look at it.

On the other hand, as a strong libertarian, I believe in the individual’s personal rights, and so Polanski is justified in this account. What he does is his personal business. It should not be up for anyone to infringe on his personal life.

As well, the girl who originally was hought to have been taken advantage of has forgiven Polanski. She admitted it was consenual, that she willingly took drugs, and no longer seeks to prosecute him. If she doesn’t desire vengeance, what business do the police have tracking him down and arresting him?

What I’m getting at here is if the so-called victim doesn’t care, what use is there in pursuing it? In the eyes of the the law, there is no crime. What this quite honestly sounds like to me is a wild party that got way out of hand.

Let’s cut the guy a break. He’s really been through enough. He went through the Holocaust, watched his wife get murdered in the notorious Manson Family ordeal, and now he’s got this on his hands. It seems like the moral contingency out there has ahd it out for him for whatever reason (probably for releasing thoughtful and provoking films), and were just waiing to seize him, regardless of whatever shenaningans or trickery they had to use.

It’s interesting to note the link between his art and his life. In Repulsion, we witnessed a possibly schizophrenic young lady have a psychological breakdown. The themes included were paranoia, a suffocating sense of being trapped, and the breakdown of a rational, objective view of reality.

In fact, many of Polanki’s films reflect a cynical, pessismistic view of human nature and an impending sense of doom or oblivion for the protagonists at large. It becomes tempting to link this with his up-and-down crazy personal life.

So, I’m somewhat torn. Part of me feels he is no more special than anyone else and he must obey the law and serve his time. At other times I feel he is his own individual and should be left alone, and hasn’t erred too seriously. Who knows? Time shal tell.

Well, hello, dear readers, and a happy Halloween to all of you. I trust you are preparing your costumes, bobbing for apples (in that case, how are you reading this on a computer screen…..nevermnd that), or simply viewing horrendous horror movie suntil you’re positively numbed to all the bloodshed and gore on the screen.

I thought I’d put my usual ceberal spin and take a critical look at Halloween. What is it and why do we celebrate it? What does it mean to us? What does it represent?

Halloween, interestingly, originally evolved from the festival of Samhain. Samhain, for those unaware, was said to mark the end of the harvest season. Pagan cultures believed the line seperating this world from the supernatural became thin on this date, and it became a way to honor and revere the dead.

And so from this comes our modern version of the holiday, Halloween. To me, Halloween seems to be a celebration of the darker side of life. This is when you see ghouls, zombies, ghosts, monsters, and movie killers roam the streets. It becomes perfectly acceptable to adorn yourself with fake blood oozing from your mouth and to attend so-called haunted houses with the purpose of being frightened. Such activities on any other date of the year would otherwise be regarded with astonishment.

I’ve always seen it as a way to conquer and tame those more macarbe instincts that rest in us. We purposely make Dracula and Frankenstein cartoonish so as to sanitize them and remove their original morbid properties. But these more gloomy traits have always been with us. They’ve had a long-standing existance and foothold in popular culture; whether it be through horror movies, death metal, or gothic fiction, we’ve always found a need to express the more replulsing aspects of ourselves.

Similar to the original Gothic ethos, though, we find joy and merriment in the lurid. Halloween becomes almost a way to mock and satirize such grim details. We find mirth and merrimen in the night. Kids skip through the streets with their parent’s hand and go door to door, seeking sweet and sugary treats to placate their interests.

The tradition of putting on masks also speaks to our desire to take on a different persna. Through these elaborate costumes, we can become someone else or express aspecs of our being that would otherwise be shunned. It’s the old tradition of dressing up to hide and become something different. How are these costumes any different from the costumes we wear in our daily lives?

All Saints’ Day, a holiday inexplicably linked with Halloween, is also a day to remember the fallen heroes of the church. Halloween is primarily interested in death. It’s a way to honor and revere the deceased. As frightening as that prospect may be, we must keep in our memories those who have previously walked the earth with us, as a sign of respect.

The fragility of the human body and our own incoming mortal fate are also themes of Halloween. At the backbone of the pumpkins and bats is a concern with our perishment. Skeletons are a common motif in Halloween; once again, we see our simultaneous phobia of and curious interest in death. It is something that will happen to us all one day, and Halloween becomes a way to appraoch it, recognize it, and try to understand it—-at least for one day out of the year.

Fear becomes the dominant mood of Halloween. Whereas the rest of the year, we keep our anxiety to ourself, on Halloween we try to air it out as a means of releasing it. WE seek to become scared; we are almost on a quest to witness the most disturbing and horrific sights as a simple thrill. The elixir of emotion, the adrenaline of transgessiveness, the sublime quality of monsters.

One aspect of Halloween that almost has this world-weary cynic and horror afficianado in shambles is its commercialization. sure, some may say Halloween has always had a bit of hookiness to it, but recently it’s really come out. As usual, businesses will jump on anything and merchandise it to hell (pun intended). We see tacky costumes being bought and sold at local stores, television channels now link all of our shows to Halloween in whatever sort of contrived way they can, and kids are being treated to “safe” haunted houses and censored horror movies. It’s enough to make even the most black-hearted vampire want to jump on a hayride outta here.

Yet, it seems that, ironiclly enough, we are witnessin the death of Halloween itself (no doubt from a maniacal, lumbering osychi with a butcher knife). Maybe it was just me when I was a kid, but there truly was something magical in the air when Halloween rolled around. You’d go door-to-door, ringing bells, and at the end of the night settle down to rupture your stomach on all sorts of candy (after having your parents check it for razor baldes….which is a hoax, btw, and more proof of suburbanite moral panic). Friday the 13th and Nightmare on Elm Street would air on all the channels.

This year it seems like barely anybody, from all my friends to random strangers I see on the street, seem barely interested in celebrating or even acknoledging that Halloween is coming. Perhaps people are too wrapped up in themselves and their own business, or they’re truly frightened by the more mysterious aspects of this holiday, or perhaps they’ve grown up and are pessimistic and disillusioned to the whole process, having forget the revrie in being swept up in this sense of fantasia as when we were younger.

Now, as I grow older, and as the world turns, it seems less and less children are romaing the neighborhood. AMC might throw on a half-assed version of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre remake. There’s nary even a roll of toilet paper to be found in the trees. What has happened to Halloween? Have we forgotten its mischevious, wild, and recklessly fun spirit? Is this a symptom of a larger disease of a decaying and alienated, square culture? As a personal fan of Halloween, as someone who used to collect Fangoria and faithfully watch Michael Myer’s every move as a kid, I’d like to think not.

Perhaps Halloween is a corpse now. Like all movie monsters, however, it will suddenly lift its hand up from its grave, ready to strike again in the next sequel.

So how is everybody doing tonight? Boy, I tell ya, I just flew in from New York. There’s no joke there, just something I thought I’d mention.

So ya wanna be a stand-up comedian, eh? Well, I thought as a public service (which has recently been court-ordered) I’d let you….yes, YOU….see how you can be a successful stand-up entertainer. If you follow my step-to-step guide, you should be headlining the Apollo or starring in a Comedy Central series that’ll get canceled after 3 seasons.

• Step 1: Pick a topic

This is without a doubt one of the most important and overlooked aspects of humor. What would a joke be without some subject to satirize? Here’s my helpful list of popular topics that are sure to annoy and bore those in attendance get a riotous response from the crowd!

As you can see, you have a diverse field to choose from. The beauty of it is you can even mix and match! Say you’re dating a black girl; that’s satirical gold right there. Audiences will rejoice and you’ll bring the house down as you inform everyone that yes, there are slight and embarassing cultural differences between white and black people. Imagine your devoted fans peeing their pants as you enlighten them to the untold story of how men and women have difficulties in relationships because they just can’t get along!

• Tacky get-up is a must

When you arrive onto the stage, you don’t want to come off as some hoity-toity elitist. The standard outfit for any performer is a suit jacket with jeans. This lets everyone know you’re somewhat professional but you’re basically blue-collar at heart. It helps the audience identify with you and let them know that they’re not the only ones trying half-assed mid-life crisis gimmicks to escape the reality of their soul-crushing office jobs. For gals, either a dress or just jeans and a shirt will suffice.

If you’re a bit younger and are still coasting on your parent’s money, it’s perfectly acceptable to wander on-stage in a hoddie with rumpled hair. It gives you a slacker/scamp feel, and lets people know that dare you accepted from your friends to try open-mic night when you all were blazing it up gets taken seriously.

• Did something midly interesting happen to you last week? We’d all love to hear about it!

Have you ever stood in line at the grocery store and noticed something slightly askew? Were you talking to your wife and did she not really talk in a funny voice, but in your head you imagined she did? Do you feel like your friends act completely natural but they’re still somehow loveably flawed anyway?

Well, step on up and tell us all about it. We weren’t there at your last family re-union and have no idea what your uncle is actually like, but we’d love to hear his private business discussed in public anyway! Mundane is the new fascinating nowadays. Of course a packed bar will be fascinated with how fed-up you were in traffic today. Why pay for a therapist when you can just regale us with your tales of astute observation?

• When all else fails, it’s time to get awkward

If you can’t overpower an audience with your bullheaded obnoxiousness, you can always play the “weird, but in a smart kinda way” card. Breathe real heavily into the microphone and take a long time between punchlines, making sure to uncomfortably stare at the audience. This sense of playful, postmodern smugness can cover up the fact that you’re actually incredibly nervous and have just forgotten your lines.

• New material is to be shunned

Did you stumble upon somewhat amusing material? Well, it’s time to beat it into the ground. Make sure to repeat the same line over and over, ad naseum. People watching you will probably have no idea, and if so, will love to hear about the fact that someone you were dating broke up with you over voice mail for the 345th time. Repetition builds rhythm, I do say.

• Being reactionary is the key

Refute all logic in the name of common sense. Empiricism and rationale are the enemy. Aren’t you just tired of all this anti-spanking sentiment? Everyone else is too. Feel free to point this out and air your dogma in the guise of humor. Kids today just misbehave way too much in supermarkets, even though one rarely actually sees that. Mock all liberal ideas, because a group of people are always guaranteed to clap and applaud whenever you throw in “U.S.A.!” or just randomly yell something to get your point across.

Well, that’s it for now here at Cantankerous Chicanery, kiddies. Stay safe, and don’t forget to try the veal.

I promised (ha, like I ever hold up to hose) a loooooong time ago during a post about Mr. Kennedy (funny how that turned out) that I’d do a piece letting known my thoughts about one Montel Vontavious Porter. well, here it is.

Ever since I first saw MVP burst onto the scene, I thought he was a future superstar in the making. He had the prescence, cocky swagger, ring psychology, and mick skills that you could ever want in a wrestler. His gimmick was something fresh and interesting; an athlete who thought he was better than the game as a whole. It was a clever spin on the whole “arrogant heel” shtick.

During his first few months, it really seemed like he was going places. Despite the fact that he was (in kayfabe and the WWE fans’ eyes) a rookie, he managed to capture gold quickly and get involved in some noticeable mid-card feuds.

It seemed like the sky was the limit for this guy. However, a funny thing happened. For whatever reason (rumor has it MVP got in the doghouse for mouthing off to a drug test inspector), they saddled him with a losing streak angle. Now the brash and cocky “King of Bling” looked like a perenial jobber. I think this is the turning point when he lost a lot of credibility and interest in the fans’ eyes, through no fault of his own.

Once again, the creative (using that term loosely) team sabotages yet another new star’s career due to their hairbrained schemes and lack of coherent long-term planning. After this, he ws turned face. While initially I appreciated that they were trying to take him in a new direction, in a way I thnk they pulled the plug too soon.

The heart of MVP’s character is that he’s an arrogant dude. Allegedly based off of T.O., he is a skilled wrestler taht nonetheless feels the need to showboat and throw it in everyone’s faces. While once could tweak it to make him a narcissistic but loveable protagonist, ala The Rock, tehy should have tied to mold him more into that sort of role.

Instead, as usual, we get the same half-baked “oh well he’s gonna smile and slap hands with the fans on his way to the ring” deal that results in lukewarm reactions and tepid fan perceptions. When he first got traded to RAW, I had high hopes for him. Not only was he the U.S. champion but he interrupted Randy Orton of all people on his first night on the show.

RAW is the place where careers go to die. It’s a proverbial graveyard, it seems. All hopes for a huge push and a spot in at least the uper mid-card were dashed when Shane freakin’ McMahon did a run-in to attack Randy Orton. The message they were basically sending to viewers at the time was, “Yeah, he’s okay, but he’s not quite ready for the spotlight.” It’s that frustrating sort of indecisiveness that ruins not only MVP’s career but a lot of the other younger guys as well.

From then on, the poor guy’s been in curtain-jerking purgatory. He got stuck in a directionless tag team with Mark Henry (ugh) and has been doing absolutely nothing of note lately. He’s dangerously close to Carlito-level of obscurity here, people.

And it’s a shame to see so much potential wasted like that. Out of a lot of the performers with the company, MVP really stands out to me. Like I said, he has a unique gimmick, a decent talent level, and he can hold his own speaking and has shown he can get the crowd involved.

Beyond the camera, his out-of-ring, real-life ordeal is the stuff of corporate dreams. Here’s a guy who served 10 years in prison for armed robbery and has now trained to be a wrestler. whle in most instances companies would shine away from that sort of background, here it’s almost a gold mine for them.

The guy rose up from poverty, gangbanging, and worked hard to get where he is today. It’s the classical “rags to riches” story America is built on. As well, he has redeemed himself and paid his debt tos ociety, and obviously doesn’t seem to be robbing any cars anytime soon. They get both street cred from the urban audience and a tale of overcoming.

Speaking of street cred—-that’s an area WWE hasn’t really looked into or tapped into. MVP is a self-made playa, but he still has that hood air about him that can connect with the hip-hop crowd. Along with Cryme Tyme, MVP represents the interests and fashion of a new generation….one enamored with Lil’ Wayne and Flo Rida. If WWE got their stuff together and saw the marketability inherent in MVP, they’d have a real cash cow on heir hands.

Sadly, they will continue to rely on pushing-40 DX and their oh-so-wacky hijinks that only appeal to old-school fans stuck in the past or dopey 12 year olds who don’t know any better. Maybe when the ratings plummet to an all-time low and all the talent is held down on RAW and there’s no flesh blood, when fans have finall had enough of the endless Chavo vs. Hornswoggle feud, and when they see through the veil and understand that RAW is a shell of its former self and is now nothing but Saturday Night Live in spandex, will Vince get the message and maybe finally push people like MVP.

Yours truly had the chance to watch A Clockwork Orange for the first time. Yes, I have never seen it until now. But, having previously read the book beforehand, I was slightly let-down. Yes, it is a gorgeous bit of cinema directed by that crazy genius Stanley Kubrick. The themes it brought up got me thinking about violence.

Conflict; what is it, why do we engage in it, and is it a part of our natural being or is institutionalized through the forces of media and cultural pressure? No matter what one’s opinion on it may be, you can’t deny it’s an inescapable fabric woven into our very lives. Think of all the fistfights in bars when people have had too much to drink and the beast within gets let out. Consider the numerous wars all the countries of the world have gone throygh. Look throuh your local newspaper and immerse yoursself in the reports of murder.

Why do we do this to each other? When we, human beings, have ascended to the top of the food chain. Mankind has been blessed with superior brains and logical problem-solving skills. And what do we do? We turn around and use this to fashon better weapons and more cunning ways to harm one another. It’s enough to make one want to move into a cave and become a hermit.

Even the most mellow pacifist would be hard-pressed to say there hasn’t been a moment where they’ve never been angry. Rage is something constantly brewing inside us. We feel wronged, slighted, the twinges of injustice gnawing at our side until we must abate it with an outburst.

Harm to others is a foul of the youth, an intoxication of immaturity, a respite best left to (ironically) the sturdiest and most virile among us. The Angry Cynic here hates to stereotype his generation, but every adolescent movement taht arises in opposition to its elders best expresses itself through directionless rage, partying, and mindless chaos. All the enregyh that could go into producing a beautiful work of art, creating a new classical crescendo, or making a breath-taking sculpture instead is wasted on bar-hopping, hoe-huntin’, and homey backstabbing (yours truly is not even spared this unmerciful fate). Perhaps it is the eternal calling of the teenage vanguar to coninually irk its guarders through seemingly senseless fights and pointless victimization. Hell if I know.

Destructon seems to have a copycat effect. The producers of the movie noted how after A Clockwork Orange came out, many teenagers all over went out and imitated the same acts Alex and his friends engaged in. We keep this desire for death inside, but once we see others are at peace with it, so we become calm to its effects and must pillage and desecrate as well. Conformity, thus, hides the most insidious of evil, langushing within its hallowed chambers the most scarred of faces.

Something interetsing that A Clockwork Orange brought up as well, which often goes ignored, is the aesthetization of violence. Despite all its inherent repellent qualities, the uglier side of urban dwelling can often render its own sort of appeal. Admit it; when Alek crushes the elder woman with a phallic symbol, you appreciate and almost chuckle at the sort of rhythm inherent in the melody of the construction of the scene, as well as its symbolic and metaphorical implications. Such an absurd quality of fatality has to almost be appreciated in its form and sense of black comedy. Beauty itself is not free from the rigors of the grotesque; sometimes in the most extreme forms of art the two become one and whole. Even something that completely violates our very ideal of law can become familiar to us.

Also, another element of violence many have yet to discuss, but that still pops up, is desensitization to it. This current population, possibly more so than ever or any before it, has become so used to failure, error, and even epic disaster (inherent in the many horrific memes currently prolifertaing on YTMND and the like) that we expect it, and possibly even delight in and expect it. Reports of a possible suicide on campus lately were greeted by my classmates with sardonic derision and caustic mockery. Have we fallen that far as a nation? Could we possibly be removed that far from each other that pain, suffering, and excruciating anonymity mean nothing to one another anymore?

It’s funny; the media sends us this wishy-washy, squeaky-clean image and then turns around and feeds our appetite for lurid voyeurism with tabloids of celebrities flippin out at the paparazzi, sensationalistic stories about homicide and robbery, and promotion of endeavors like the UFC and WWE. They scapegoat video games and point the finger at movies like Cannibal Holocaust but after Katrina, what was all over the news?

Looting, rape, and setting fires, that’s what. The networks passed over us stranded survivors in knee-deep water to instead spread false and erroneous rumors about cops being shot at, people’s brains splattering all over the concrete, and whatnot. These morbid details, for better or for worse, get ratings. And we, as spectators to this hyperreality, are all responsible for this rising tide, as well victims of a base and crass society.

At the same time, thanatos has always been with us. Since the beginning of human history, we’ve been injuring, maiming, burning, and even outright snuffing one another out. The medieval period is rife with doctors draining all the blood out of a person to supposedly “cure the devil out of them”. The Greek and Roman empires, long held as paragons of intellectual pinnacles for civilization, are notorious for the Coliseum, where prisoners swould scrap to the death in front of a crowd for the public’s amusement. Ya know, even the Bible records Cain and Abel’s infamous squabble.

So, maybe the answer isn’t so simple. Violence is by no means a pleasant or even desireable quality, but it’s one that’s there to stay and that we have to live with. Why else would movies like A Clockwork Orange or Natural Born Killers even be made? The screenwriters didn’t make this stuff up out of thin air or pull it out their ass. As chilling as these sociopathic protagonists may be, remember there are probably far worse lechers out there in the world, living right next door to you or hanging out down the block.

Let me leave you with a little something: