#Rendar Frankenstein
A Metal X-Mas
There’s no shortage of Christmas myths. Rudolph the alcoholic and his bright red nose. The magic baby born in a dirty barn. The successful parrying of a Martian kidnapping.
But have you ever heard about the time that Jack Frost and the Grinch tried to murder Santa? Something tells me you haven’t. But now you can.
Lo and behold, a sing-a-long version of the soon-to-be holiday classic:
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DEFEAT. 013 – Get Off of the Roads!
[DEFEAT. is Rendar Frankenstein’s truest attempt at fiction. Presented in weekly episodes, the novella tells the tale of Daryl Millar – a hero who dies at the intersection of pop culture, science-fiction, war epic, and fantasy]
The car stopped just long enough for Daryl to explode out of its passenger door. As eager as he was to get into school with enough time to return 8-Bit’s copy of The Dark Knight Falls, Daryl’s mother was twice as eager to see Jane Pauley and Bryant Gumbel interview whoever. And so the Volvo screeched, peeling out just as Mrs. Millar’s foot told it to.
This provided the man in the gray trench coat the voyeuristic advantage that had eluded him the previous morning. The man got an unencumbered look at the accelerating teen. And since Daryl had no clue that he was being watched, the man in the trench coat afforded himself the luxury of peeking over the top of the sunglasses that barely rested on the tip of his nose. “Yes,” he muttered to himself in near-disbelief, “this is exactly right. It’s so surreal. No, no, that’s not it. Just real.”
From the trench coat a ratty spiral bound journal was removed by a slightly trembling hand. The spy, now seemingly aware that others may question his lurking, scribbled his notes quickly. Returning the journal to the safety of his oversized coat, he snuck behind the bushes and out of the scene.
At the same time, 8-Bit was admiring the graffiti and clever bits of vandalism adorning the inside of his locker.
Where’s the beef?
Charlotte gives good head
Led Zep rokks!
Monday Morning Commute: For the Rest of Us!
Welcome once again, m’babies, to the Monday Morning Commute. Please ignore the fact that this feature is posted during the late-night timeslot. Also, there’s no need for you to know that my commute to work takes no more than fifteen minutes on a bad day. Instead, join me in celebrating the entertaining bits of existence that are going to get me through the week.
And try to remember what you learned on the playground – I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. After peeping my naughty bits, hit up the comments and show me yours. After all, it’s only fair.
Friday Brew Review – Infinium
Progress is a tricky concept to grasp and an even trickier one to execute. On the one hand, there is something to be said of tradition. Of the fact that there are those who have stood the test of time, proving their worth while the novelty of what’s considered in vogue crumbles into ephemeral ash.
It’s foolish to disregard the ones who help to set the sun.
However, we must also avoid becoming dogmatic adherents to yesteryear’s traditions. In dodging such an existential bullet, we remain receptive to new ideas. To the notion that the terrain explored by pioneers and voyagers may be worth investigating. There is an acknowledgment that all is not known and an exhilaration in trying to unearth what this may be.
In an ideal world, the Titans would help usher in the Olympians.
This dream is realized with Infinium. And that is why it is damn near perfect.
DEFEAT. 012 – Stars Above. Sword Below.
[DEFEAT. is Rendar Frankenstein’s truest attempt at fiction. Presented in weekly episodes, the novella tells the tale of Daryl Millar – a hero who dies at the intersection of pop culture, science-fiction, war epic, and fantasy]
Daryl Millar spent this particular Monday night sleeplessly staring at his bedroom ceiling. Despite what many would call a more-than successful day, Daryl couldn’t shake a feeling of discontent. Something much weightier was on the horizon.
Treating a friend to pizza. Getting a girl’s phone number. Enjoyable activities. But it was learning one of his grandfather’s secret origins that induced the temporary insomnia. Gramps’ tale wasn’t an anecdote or a flapping of the gums.
It was a revelation.
Monday Morning Commute: Jean Grey, You Crazy
There’re twelve days until Christmas, the holiday in which we celebrate the birth of a God by telling kids that if they’re assholes all year a fat burglar is going to put coal in their socks. Makes sense. Anyways, there are no doubt fools in our ranks who want the next eleven days to fly by so that they can collect their Christmas goodies. But to that, I say Bah humbug!
We are now in the thick of the best part of the holiday season. We’re close enough to the summit to actually begin enjoying the ascent, but don’t have to start thinking about the dreadful descent. The holidays are making out, baby, and with the shirts being taken off the post-coitus regret isn’t even a consideration.
So put on an ugly sweater, drink some eggnog, and grab the ass of the one who catches your eye.
And while you do that, let me tell you about my upcoming week. After all, Monday Morning Commute is my chance to tell you what I’ve got planned for the next few days. If you’re feeling bold, hit the comments and tell me what you’ll be doing.
Black Swan – Aronofsky’s Admonition
[caution: the following post is a narrative analysis of BLACK SWAN. as such, it’s filled with spoilers, half-baked jib-jab, and words that even a thesaurus shouldn’t contain. proceed at your own risk]
Walking out of Black Swan, I knew that I was impressed. The one hundred and three minutes of celluloid that had just flashed before me were not only visually appealing (and I’ll be goddamned if you don’t think it’s eye-candy) but bursting at the thematic seams.
It’s a layered work – an adaptation of Swan Lake in which a ballet company reimagines Swan Lake. Yes, that’s right. There’s sexual tension, the tug-and-pull between repression and reckless liberation. Body image issues arise, as self-mutilation and bulimia make both subtle and palpable appearances. And for good measure, a heaping of parental expectation is thrown in, reminding the audience that even the most brilliant of feats can lose their shimmer when serving as vicarious fulfillment.
It’s all in Black Swan. All that and more, in fact. But what struck me as most compelling about Aronofsky’s fifth feature is that it serves as a warning to those in pursuit of a goal. No, I don’t think Black Swan is telling the audience to relish in apathy, aspiring for nothing and thereby achieving everything desired. But I do think that the movie is pursing its lips next to the ear of the aspirant individual, whispering, “Look at yourself — is this what you want?”
Because without even knowing it, even the purest of feather can become sullied and despoiled.
Images & Words – Northlanders #35
[images & words is the comic book pick-of-the-week at OL. equal parts review and diatribe, the post highlights the most memorable/infuriating/entertaining book released that wednesday]
How does it feel to be abandoned by those once thought of as family? What life can be led when the shadow of death looms overhead? Is losing all purpose liberating, allowing an individual to take chances otherwise thought foolish? Just how much would it suck to be an old dude in a Viking village?
These are the questions raised in Northlanders: The Girl in the Ice.
In Memoriam: Dimebag Darrell
Mockingbirds don’t do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don’t eat up people’s gardens, don’t nest in corncribs, they don’t do one thing but sing their hearts out for us.
That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.
Three decades ago today, Mark David Chapman shot and killed John Lennon in an attempt to actualize the wishes of Holden Caulfield. Thereon, December 8th became a somber day for anyone who appreciates music and hates shitty literary interpretations.
Unfortunately, this day became even more ominous six years ago as Dimebag Darrell was murdered onstage by a crazed fan. Slinging the axe for Pantera, Dimebag helped craft a brand of metal that held complete domination over the 1990s. While long-heralded heavy metal gods began experimenting with blues-riffs and mascara, Pantera maintained their dedication to savage thrashin’ and soulful groovin’. In fact, they only became more aggressive – which is ridiculous, considering that they kicked off the decade with Cowboys from Hell.
What strikes me most about Dimebag’s playing is the originality and conviction. There is no mistaking a Dimebag Darrell riff, whether it’s one of the machine-gun facsimiles that punches you in the gut or one of the chunky stutter-steps that greets you at the party and convinces you to funnel a beer. His six-string prowess was, in a word, jaw-dropping.
Hit the jump to check out some of my favorite Dimebag moments.
DEFEAT. 011 – Poor Vanessa
[DEFEAT. is Rendar Frankenstein’s truest attempt at fiction. Presented in weekly episodes, the novella tells the tale of Daryl Millar – a hero who dies at the intersection of pop culture, science-fiction, war epic, and fantasy]
::click::
“OH MY GAWD, IT WAS HIM!”
“Who?”
“Daryl Millar, the good-looking guy I met at work today.”
“At Game World? Damn, Vanessa, you must be desperate.”
