THE PLATFORM: A SHORT STORY

I guess you could say that this note is as close to what's known as a "trigger warning" as you're going to get out of me. It's been quite some time since I've written anything, or even come close to conjuring up any sort of idea of something worth writing about for that matter, but this story is something I've had in my head for a while now. It's something I feel needs to be told and needs to be read by anyone that's willing to dive into this.
I won't beat around the bush about this; The Platform is about suicide. It's about a man deciding to take his mortality in his own hands after spending a lifetime circling the proverbial void. For many of you that struggle with this exact same thing, The Platform is probably something that you shouldn't bother reading. That being said, for the rest of you that do face these feelings everyday and want to delve into those feelings through the eyes and thoughts of someone else, that's what this story is for.
This unnamed character is a reflection of thoughts and feelings that I've had, have, and have dealt with for as long as I can recall. This isn't a cry for help or a piece of art that life will eventually imitate...this is something that I feel I need to say. This is something that I hopefully don't regret sharing with the world at large. This is something that I feel should be seen by as many sets of eyes as possible, and no, it's not because I'm looking to make a profit off of this, it's because I want as many of you to know what I wish was shared with me so long ago: you're not alone.
Now that all of that is out of the way, if you still want to proceed with The Platform, go right ahead. If however you've changed your mind and would rather this be kept away from your eyes, that's totally fine as well. Either way, I want any and all of you reading this to know that no matter how hopeless, helpless, or lost that you may feel in your life, always remember that you're not alone in how you're feeling. If you've ever felt anything like the main character in this story, seek help. Talk to someone. Keep going and keep fighting. Don't give up.

Nick




THE PLATFORM
by Nick Durham






Ten minutes

The countdown begins. The night is cold and bitter, the kind of bitter where it almost hurts to breathe. Not a single cloud in the sky, yet there's no stars to see when you look up. That's what it's like living in a city: a sprawling, urban clusterfuck of concrete, noise, and people. An environment that feels something like its own little world with its own rules and regulations. Like it's cut off from the rest of the planet and everything outside of its atmosphere is meaningless.
I came to this city over a decade ago. I sought a fresh start and thought that maybe this place would have the best chance of offering just that. I'd never lived in a city before; having grown up around farmlands and trees and dirt and stars. Stars. I remember looking up into the sky and being able to see them illuminate the sky and shining down upon me. They would make me feel like I wasn't so alone, like they were hanging up there just for me to look at. I remember someone had said to me once that the city didn't have stars, that you couldn't see anything when you looked up in the sky, but I didn't believe that. How could a place not have stars I used to wonder to myself. But it was true, it was so goddamn true. The stars aren't there and the sky always looks black. I'm alone, and have been more since I first set foot in this place.
Sometimes I wonder why I came here, what lead me to coming here. I guess it's the same thing that lead me to the spot where I'm standing right now. This platform, waiting for a train that runs from the northern point of the city all the way to the south end. I've stood here at this exact same spot so many times since I first came here, mostly as my means of transportation to get to the job I used to have, and other times...just to ponder fast forwarding the inevitable. Tonight it's sparse in terms of passengers waiting to board the train, given that it's after midnight on a weekday. The timing of this particular day and time was the point after all. Less chance of any kind of interference from would-be good Samaritans.



Nine minutes

I stand relatively close to the edge of the platform, but not close enough to set off any kind of alarm for anyone that may lay eyes on me. Then again, the handful of people that are waiting here have their faces buried in their phones, so I may hopefully be ignored. No one notices the fact that I'm staring down the track where the train is due to travel upwards. It's below freezing out here and I can feel myself sweating. Is it the anticipation? Is it my body trying to signal my brain somehow that I shouldn't do this, let alone even contemplate it? I don't know, nor do I wish to either.
This is something that's been a long time coming. Longer than I've ever admitted to anyone, even myself. I think about what brought me here, what lead me here, how I wound up standing here waiting for the end to come. I think about my father. How he towered over me when I was a child. How he tried to do the best he could for me in spite of being pursued and eventually overtaken by the noise inside his head. The noise that he passed down to me. The noise he couldn't ignore anymore when he looked me in the eye and pulled the trigger. I remember hearing the gunshot more than I do what actually unfolded in front of me. I'd never heard anything that loud before at that point in my life. The blood spraying and the bits that used to be part of my father's head I watched get splattered on me and around the kitchen of our apartment were only secondary to the sound of it all unfolding.
The unit below us had called the cops, reporting hearing a single gunshot. During the time between the shot and when the police arrived, I didn't shed a single tear. I had felt nothing. I was twelve years old and didn't feel an ounce of sadness or pain or torment. What I did feel was the thought of questioning myself as to why I felt none of these things. I remembered hearing something my mother had said to my father a few years before this when she left us. The words that came out of her mouth to my father were "Don't you ever feel anything? You're an emotional blank slate. Why can't you be normal?"
My mother was terrified of my father. He wasn't what could be classified as a good man to really describe him. I'd like to think that I didn't become like him, but here we are. He circled the void for years and let it take him, and I'm following in his footsteps. Not because I desire to be like him, but because this is just inevitable. Ending my own life is how it was always going to turn out for me, just like it did for him. The noise in his head couldn't be shut off. That inner void inside him grew and grew, and couldn't be closed no matter what kind of life he tried to make for himself, even one that included having a family or any other degree of society-approved normalcy.
The noise and the void. One doesn't exist without the other. I tried to drown out the noise and fill that void by leaving it all behind in the place I grew up in. Tried to put what I watched my father do behind me. Tried to tell myself that his actions didn't define me. That I didn't inherit anything from him. That I am my own man and my own person and I am responsible for my own actions. I was only half right. I did put him behind me, and I managed to ignore the noise and the void long enough to think I had a chance at a different outcome, but as I stand here looking down the train tracks, I know that everything I tried to tell myself years prior was nothing but bullshit.


Eight minutes

I can feel my lips are cracked in the bitter cold. I can see my own breath as well. One thing about winter I always thought was kind of cool, being able to actually see my own breath escape from my lungs. Ever since I was a kid, it's given me nonstop amusement during this season every single year. My ex-wife thought it was ridiculous of a grown man to get this sort of amusement out of something so trivial. She thought a number of my hobbies were ridiculous for a grown man to have as well. Horror movies, metal music, comic books, true crime literature, video games, etc. They made me immature according to her, but these things I was into were things I could relate to. The worlds presented on film or on a page were an escape, a way to shut off the noise in my head that was only increasing over time.
I tried so many methods to shut off that noise and void, or to at least drown them out. In my youth, it was anything I could smoke, or snort, or inject, or drink, or even fuck. Fucking was my go-to for a while at least. Disappearing in writhing, sweaty flesh. Making someone cum for me. Being able to accomplish that made me feel like I was worth a shit. Like I was good at something. Like I was wanted. Like I mattered. That's how I ended up with my eventual wife. She was supposed to be another late-night conquest, but she kept coming back. I thought to myself that maybe this was it, maybe this was the way to really shut that fucking noise off and fill that void. Maybe this was how I was going to do it. I was going to spend the rest of my life with this woman and everything was going to be okay. We were going to be okay. I was going to be okay. I was going to feel whole, finally. No more void, no more noise.
That's not how it worked out, obviously. I could stand here and blame her for leaving me, but the reality is that I really don't. Not even a little bit. The reality is that I got married because I thought it'd be a means to an end. A means to feel whole and not feel so alone anymore. A means to actually feel some sort of emotional weight. But none of that ever happened. Just like when I watched my father blow his brains out, again I felt absolutely nothing. No feelings of love or happiness, just a sort of static. I guess this is what's considered "going through the motions". The allure of being a newlywed wore off quickly for her and it wasn't long before she realized she made a mistake. She thought there was a way of changing me, a way of peeling back the layers of being an emotional blank slate like my father was before me, a way to get to the "real me" she used to say. But this was the real me, I had no feelings of love for her or of any kind of sadness when she left.
The day she told me she was leaving me, all I could reply to her with was a simple "okay". Nothing else, no tears, no begging or pleading, just an okay. I watched her melt down. Watched tears stream down her face. Listened to her scream and yell at me that it wasn't fair to her that I was like this. Said over and over again words that I've never been able to forget: "why can't you be fucking normal?". Words I wondered to myself every single day for as long as I can remember. I knew that I wasn't going to miss her, but there was something that I felt in me as I watched her go out the front door that I hadn't felt before. I don't know how to explain it other than it being like an ache. A physical sensation in my chest like I've never felt before, never felt since, and will never feel again.

Seven minutes

I take my phone out of my pocket and glance at it. No calls, no texts, no shit. Not that it wouldn't be any other way. I managed to systematically push the few people I had in my life away. Some of that was purposeful, some of it wasn't. There's a couple sitting on a bench arguing over something, and arguing loudly at that. There's actual words coming out of both of their mouths, but it all sounds like nonsensical noise to my ears. I glance at them and neither notice, both too enthralled in each other's rage to notice anything happening around them. There's a trashcan next to the bench that I debate to myself dropping my phone into, but I decide not to. I'm almost halfway there on the countdown. Finally.
Is it excitement that I'm feeling right now? Am I excited to meet my end? No, it's not excitement. It's relief. Relief in knowing that it'll all be over before too long. Relief in knowing I don't have to keep pretending I'm anything close to what's considered a human being. Some days have been more agonizing than others in doing just that. Going to work every day. Going grocery shopping. Exercising. All mundane tasks that everyone else does that are essential to everyday living. No more pretending. No more of the mundane. No more anything.
One thing that's always perplexed me is society's feelings about taking your own life. Catholics consider it a "mortal sin" and a guarantee that one's soul will burn in hell for all eternity. That's religion for you though: a construct designed to control your life and take away your free will. I was lucky enough to be spared of being brought up in any sort of theology, and for that I am thankful.
As for the rest of the world, suicide is a coward's way out. It's giving up. At least that's what most would tell you. That's not how I see it, it's not how I've ever seen it. This is my way of taking charge of my own life. This is me ending things on my own terms and doing it my way. Most people spend their whole lives going through the motions, getting from one point to the next and letting the chips fall where they may. They're never in charge of their own lives, no matter how they feel otherwise. This is me taking charge of my life and what happens to it. To do that takes a degree of courage that I've never ever had before. I don't believe that it takes courage to keep going. You drift through life from one point to the other. Is that really living? You buy a house, you get a spouse, you make babies, you go to cookouts, you buy shit you don't need. Rinse and repeat, over and over and over again ad nauseam. I find it sickening. This is me doing what I need to do. Taking charge, other people's thoughts be damned. I think now, for the first time in my life, I'm starting to actually feel something.

Six minutes

Am I being selfish in doing this? Selfishness is a word that gets thrown around so often that many forget what the word even means. Isn't it selfish to go through life doing the same thing over and over again? People will cut each other's throats over money and material possessions every second of every day. Isn't that selfish? How is me taking charge of my own life an act of selfishness? Perhaps the fact that I'm going to drop down in front of a moving train with a conductor and passengers that may be injured as a result of my act is in itself selfish. That's why I decided to do this so late at night, on the last scheduled train for the day. At a time of day where there's barely anyone on it. A multiple ton-weighing vehicle of solid steel that will barely get dented by my body smashing to pieces against it.
Maybe I should have chosen a different way to do this. Maybe I should have tied a rope around my neck in my living room. Or maybe I should have sat myself in my bathtub and slit my wrists. Maybe I should have downed a bottle of pills and laid down in my bed and wait for the darkness to swallow me up. But no. All of that would leave a corpse in its wake. I don't want there to be anything left of me. I want this steel death machine to liquefy me. I don't want anything left of me to bury or burn. I've barely been a person my whole life. I don't want to be anything resembling a person in my death. This is how it has to be. This is how it was always going to be.
That feeling of inevitability is almost comforting in the way I can feel it swallowing me up inside. It's almost beautiful. Ah, beauty. A word I've never really had much appreciation for. Perhaps it's because I've never really known the true definition of the word. The comfort I'm feeling is almost drowning out the never-ending noise that's in my head. It's strange, unlike anything I've ever felt before. Not even in all the times I'd try to drown it out by doing a line or putting my cock inside any willing participant have I ever felt like this. This feeling. Feeling. I'm actually feeling this.

Five minutes

Halfway there now. I keep waiting for some kind of voice to pop up inside my head telling me that there's still plenty of time to change my mind about all of this. Or it'll say "don't do it, there's so much to live for" or something cliché like that. Maybe it'll come. I feel like I have all the time in the world. With the odd feeling of comfort that's permeating in my head, I actually don't want any of this time to end. It's...it's mind boggling to me. I don't get what's happening.
Is it the knowledge that yes, I am going to go through with this, bringing the comfort to my brain and drowning out the noise? I didn't take this into account when I planned all of this. I don't want this leading into any kind of complications, not when I'm so close to the end now. Or will it lead to a complication? I have no desire to back out of this, there's no voice in my head saying "stop", just this wave of...relief. It's relief. It's relief in knowing that the end is near. No more waking up to a never ending concerto of noise.
I didn't count on feeling relief in particular, at least not this early. It may only be halftime, but there's still a ways to go. I figured anything close to a feeling of relief would come once I'd see the bright, shining lights of the train coming towards me. I'm imagining it now. Seeing it coming right for me, me staring it down. Am I going to close my eyes before the impact? Or will I stare at it head on? Will my heart give out before the actual impact? They say that when someone falls to their death, it's not the impact that kills them, but their heart giving out during the actual fall. Is something like that going to happen here? I don't know which of any of this I prefer to happen honestly.

Four minutes

I'm walking along the edge of the platform now. There's a couple more people here now but not many, and still, no one notices me at all. No one notices the fact that I'm putting one foot in front of the other, edging myself along the bright yellow line of the platform edge that says DANGER in red letters. No one notices me at all. Is that one of the reasons I'm choosing to do this? Because I want to be noticed? Not one fucking bit. All my life the last thing I've ever wanted was to be noticed by anyone. Like I had said previously, I barely qualify as a fully functional person, and with that being the case, having to interact with anyone for anything other than fucking them is literally the worst kind of experience for me to have. I can't hold a conversation, let alone even appear to be interested in what someone is saying. It's all so meaningless and trivial. All of it. Human interaction is disgusting.
My wife, to her credit, tried to help me in her own ways. Tried to talk to me or get me to open up, but to no avail. When that failed, she recommended I talk to someone, seek some sort of treatment for my mental state. She used to tell me that I was "mentally ill" and needed help. Even in the back of her head, she knew that what I'm about to do was always going to be my end result.
Mentally ill. Those two words together are little more than a label. A label to be put on those by otherwise "normal" people as the kind of human beings that should be pitied and medicated. A label that almost feels like it has to be earned. The problem is, even if you do muster up the will to talk about what's going through your head, to talk about the noise and the void, no one ever really wants to hear it. They dope you up on medication. They make you little more than a zombie. It all comes down to "we're going to make you a functioning member of society no matter what it takes" by throwing some pills down your throat to keep you in line and not take charge of your own life. It's pathetic. I swore to myself that I'd never wind up like that. It's a promise I've kept after all this time. A promise that I'll take with me into the welcoming abyss.

Three minutes

I know that I'm mentally ill. I've always known. It's not something that I've ever denied to myself. I know my father was as well. I'm not doing this to carry on any sort of legacy he left behind. How could I when he had none to leave? The noise and void are part of my genetic makeup. I know this. And I accept this wholeheartedly. I'm glad that I didn't have children that would carry this on in them as well. That in itself is the most unselfish act I could ever hope to perform.
I still keep walking one foot in front of the other along the platform. Still, no one is any wiser about it. I'm ready. The seconds now feel like hours. That feeling of relief is growing stronger by the second. It's coming, I'm so close now. I stop edging myself along the platform long enough to reach into my pocket for a cigarette. I light it up and take a deep breath, inhaling the smoke into my lungs and slowly exhaling it out. The mixture of smoke and my own breath envelops my direct line of sight. I'm buried in the smoke and still standing tall. It's beautiful. I wish I could see it from someone else's perspective right now as if they were looking at me.
I tried. I really did, at least for a little while. I tried to act normal. Tried to act like a fully functioning human being, but it wasn't for me. I'm human waste in a sack of flesh and blood. Flesh and blood that will paint these train tracks in a little over two minutes time. That will be my legacy. Painted all over the place in a glorious display of final acceptance.

Two minutes

I take another drag from my cigarette as I think back to the day I watched my father end his own life. I remember how he yelled for me to come to him. How I saw him adorned in his dress blues. How I saw the gun in his hand. How he dropped to his knees in front of me and put his free hand on my shoulder. The words that followed out of his mouth as he stared me directly in my eyes, the only time this man ever looked me in the eye.
"I wish I could tell you I loved you", he said to me. His eyes never darting from mine. "But I can't, because I don't. I've never loved anything or anyone. I've tried boy, I really have. And I've failed. Over and over. I want you to know that I'm sorry, but I need you to see what's about to happen". I didn't say a word, didn't move a muscle. It wasn't because I felt any sort of fear or anything, but because I genuinely wanted to listen to anything this man had to say.
"Your momma...she was right to leave us. You're just like me you know that? Maybe you're not all the way there yet, but you will be. I can see it. I know it. She knows it too. You're a chip off the 'ol block boy. You really are my kid." He took his hand off of me and stood back up in front of me. "There's no easy way to do this. It has to be this way. I can't turn it off, I can't turn off the noise and I can't fill that hole. What's the word? Like a void. It's endless boy, no matter what I've done or anything else, nothing fills it. It's just empty. It'll always be empty. And it's gonna be that way for you, I fucking know it."
I watched him put the gun to his head and he said his final words to me. "Don't close your eyes boy, you need to see this. I need you to see this. This is the only way I'll ever be free, and one day for you, it'll be the only way that you'll ever be free. And on that day, you'll know what I mean, you'll get it. Just like me." And with that, it happened. It was over. He was a clump of wasted life on the floor. Everything he ever was now dead and gone. His life had no meaning, but in his death, he took his life in his own hands and made something of it, at least to himself. He lived his whole life a coward, going through the motions, and in the end, he took charge of himself and went out on his own terms. For that, and only that, he has a degree of admiration from me. Fuck.
That night, hours after it happened, I laid outside in the grass, staring up at the sky. Looking at those stars. They'd always been there for me, every single night. I knew I could have some degree of faith in them, more than I'd ever had in any living being, and more than I'd eventually find out I would ever have in myself.

One minute

It's almost time. At last. I toss my cigarette on the tracks and let out my last exhale of smoke. I turn around taking one last look at the handful of people waiting for the train. Everyone still buried in their phones and personal dramatics. I'm now standing on the edge, counting down the seconds. Waiting for a voice to pop up in my head telling me not to do it, not to go through with it, but that voice doesn't come. Thankfully. I can hear the train whistle in the distance, it's on its way. But that in itself opens up some complications.
I have to do this quick. I can't risk anyone trying to play hero and grabbing me before I drop downward to face my end. I'm still standing on the edge and I look backward over my shoulder. People are starting to inch ever closer but still glued to themselves. Yes, yes, yes. This is going to work. I can see the headlights of the train shining through the dark of night. It's time. "Finally, at fucking last" I say to myself under my breath as I bend my knees and jump off the edge.

Thirty seconds

My knees are toast. I landed very awkwardly on the actual track. I try to stand but can't. Something vital is more than likely broken and/or ruptured. Not that it matters. I can hear people yelling and screaming above me, that someone jumped off the platform. It's too late for anything to be done though. That train is coming, headed right towards me. The headlights are blinding me. I see someone reaching their hand down towards me and I look in their direction. It's the guy from that arguing couple on the bench. I look away from him and take one last look at the train, and then almost right away, I find myself looking up at the sky. That barren, black sky. Not a single star to be seen. The sound of the train careening towards me is deafening, almost like something I heard once before, a long time ago. This is how it was always going to be for me. The end, at last. The noise is gone, the void is filled. The end is finally here.

THE VOID is coming to Netflix. You need to watch it.

One of, if not the, best horror films I've seen all damn year, is coming to Netflix on July 6th. Below is my original review for DEATH & GIGGLES and you need to drop what you're doing on that day and watch the fucking thing.

More often than not, when I hear about a heap of praise being levied on a horror movie at any time from any kind of critics, I tend to approach it with caution. Remember when everyone said "The Babadook" was the greatest thing since sliced bread and it turned out to be the equivalent of a frozen dog turd with sprinkles? Yeah, when it comes to praise, I usually tend to feel the opposite way. That's why when I was going into The Void, I honestly wasn't expecting too much from it, even though I went into it knowing practically nothing about what the film was about. Coming out of it...well, all I can say is that this may in fact be the best horror film I've seen in a long fucking time. This film is equally inventive and unpredictable, and saying it made a lasting impression on me is saying it lightly.

The Void picks up with a small town sheriff named Daniel (Aaron Poole) picking up a disheveled man he finds bloodied and disoriented. Transporting him to a local, understaffed hospital inhabited by his ex (Kathleen Munroe), a veteran surgeon (Twin Peaks vet Kenneth Welsh), and a handful of others; Daniel soon learns that something very sinister is going on when mysterious hooded figures start surrounding the hospital. Things go from bad to worse when bodies start dropping, but that's only a taste of the unrelenting horror that unfolds as the film goes on, and gets legitimately totally fucking shocking.

I really don't want to spoil much more about the plot of The Void, because I really do feel that the less you know about this film going in, the more you'll enjoy it. Granted there are some plot elements that come out of left field, but the end result is a genuine shocker of a film that will leave you with plenty of lasting impressions. Not to mention the fact that this film is loaded with wonderful practical effects work and some ridiculously grotesque sequences that gorehounds will undoubtedly adore. I've often heard people labeling the film as being Lovecraftian and also making comparisons to John Carpenter's The Thing, and I agree with both sentiments wholeheartedly. There is an aura of unpredictability and flat out "what the fuck" moments peppered throughout the film, along a feeling of isolation and hopelessness that are perfectly orchestrated here. I've also heard comparisons to the work of Lucio Fulci quite a bit as well, but I think these are more aimed towards the fact the film's ending shot may be a bit of a head scratcher for some and leave you wondering what the fuck you just watched. Regardless of that, this is a modern day horror film that is truly one of a kind.

I can praise The Void day and night and keep going on, but I won't. This is a film that you flat out need to see right fucking now. I myself may love it more than most, and it goes without saying that The Void isn't a film for everyone or all tastes either, but this is truly an unforgettable achievement in practical effects work and being able to orchestrate an overwhelming sense of dread that most modern horror films couldn't do if they tried. Co-directors Steven Kostanski and Father's Day co-helmer Jeremy Gillespie really crafted something special here, and The Void is something that I'll be happily revisiting for years to come.

REAL THOUGHTS ON NEW HALLOWEEN MOVIE DEVELOPMENTS

A while ago it was announced that John Carpenter himself was returning to the HALLOWEEN franchise to inject some life back into it. The idea in itself is more than intriguing, and while I normally beg for long running franchises to come to an end instead of sequel after sequel and reboot after reboot, I'm surprisingly okay with this. Since it was announced though, things have been relatively quiet in terms of developments, until recently.

Carpenter announced on social media that David Gordon Green (director of PINEAPPLE EXPRESS, YOUR HIGHNESS, JOE, and more) will be directing the new HALLOWEEN film, which will be produced by Carpenter, Green, and...Danny McBride (the comedic actor best known for PINEAPPLE EXPRESS, EASTBOUND AND DOWN, and many more). Green and McBride will also be co-writing the film which is...odd. Is this seriously really happening?

At first, I really didn't know how to take this news. I was surprisingly all for a direct sequel to the original HALLOWEEN II with Carpenter back in some capacity, I just never expected to hear the names David Gordon Green and Danny fucking McBride attached to it. And shockingly...I'm okay with it. I have faith that these two won't turn the film into a laughing stock or self-aware mess. Green has made some really good and even thought provoking films (watch JOE starring Nicolas Cage...yes I'm serious) and I think he and McBride both really get what a HALLOWEEN film should be, so I'm actually really looking forward to seeing this happen.

And no matter what, it can't be as bad as the Rob Zombie-directed HALLOWEEN movies right?

REMEMBERING THE WII-U

With the looming launch of Nintendo's latest console (or is it a handheld?) the Switch, I want to take some time to look back at the Wii-U. Nintendo's would-be successor to the insanely high selling Wii was an absolute failure in terms of sales and third-party support; mostly due to the fact Nintendo fucked it up from before the launch onward. Released in 2012 to little fanfare (and some really bad marketing), the Wii-U was pretty much dead on arrival, thanks to a weak launch lineup, a really dumb name, and a confusing interface. The required touchscreen/gamepad is cumbersome to use, and games that require using it can be a chore. "Star Fox Zero" in particular is one game that requires the gamepad and even tacks motion controls on top of it, killing what could have otherwise been an awesome experience.

Things like the cumbersome gamepad and incoherent marketing are what limited sales of the Wii-U. The original Wii was a smash hit in terms of sales thanks to the fact that it was marketed to appeal to everyone young and old, regardless of experience playing video games. That approach helped alienate most hardcore gamers who now saw Nintendo hardware as gimmicky and unappealing. Not to mention the fact that naming the fucking thing the Wii-U didn't help matters either. Because of the lack of marketing direction, a lot of people thought the Wii-U was some kind of add-on or enhancement for the original Wii, not realizing that it was its own console with its own library of games. Any online capabilities, especially with multiplayer, were pretty spotty as well.

All of this combined turned most gamers off, but those of us that stuck around were treated to probably the best exclusive first-party games of any of the consoles released this generation. Games like "Super Mario 3D World", "Super Smash Bros. for Wii-U", "Bayonetta 2", "Mario Kart 8", "Donkey Kong Country: Tropical Freeze", "The Wonderful 101", "New Super Mario Bros. U", "Splatoon", "Pikmin 3", "Pokken Tournament", and "Xenoblade Chronicles X" are seriously fucking amazing. Not to mention the fact that the Wii-U is backwards compatible with just about all Wii games and the original Wii Virtual Console still functions within as well. The console itself is powerful and Nintendo's first party games always functioned at launch (something that many triple-A titles like "Assassin's Creed" or "Call of Duty" can never claim), so there is a lot to admire here with the console. Additional features like being able to play the game on the gamepad while someone else is watching TV or vice-versa was a nice little addition as well.

Because of the low sales, I expect the Wii-U to become a pretty big collector's piece somewhere down the road. Copies of "Bayonetta 2" (which includes a port of the first game), "Devil's Third", and "Game & Wario" are already commanding some hefty prices, and as the years go on, the console will probably gain more of an appreciation than it ever got before. For me personally, the good outweighs the bad of the console, mostly due to the software library (as small as it may be), backwards compatibility, and the fact that a lot of these games you'll never be able to play anywhere else (probably).

Hopefully Nintendo learned their lesson with the Wii-U, and the Switch will be glorious and everyone will love it.

Wait, that's not gonna happen, who are we kidding?

FUCK OFF 2016

2016 was a cunt of a year.

I don't mean just because of all the celebrity deaths or Trump somehow getting into office, but in general the whole year was one big clusterfuck. I'm saying this more on a personal level than anything else, as I found myself burned out and beaten down. In November of this past year, my grandmother passed away on Thanksgiving day (which just so happened to be a day after her 89th birthday). It was something we had expected for a while, but no matter how prepared you think you are for someone's death, it doesn't really make a difference when the time finally comes. For those that don't know me all that well, my grandmother raised me from the time I was 7 years old on more or less. I had gotten ditched by both parents when I was young, so she was all I had. And no, I'm not looking for pity or sympathy either, that's just the way things were. Her death capped off a year where I made a number of stupid decisions and burned a lot of bridges, pretty much fucking myself royally in some regards. I got abandoned by some long time friends in a moment of need, which is fine now that I think about it, because for the most part they've always been self-absorbed cunts to begin with, and I'm probably better off.

Despite all that though, my 2016 was filled with a few bright spots here and there. They were few and far between, but they were there. I'm hoping to get my shit together in 2017 at some point, and maybe possibly finish TAPES as well as Death & Giggles continues to grow. Until then, I'm not planning on being here much, but I'll be back around eventually.

Happy New Year you fucks.

WHY I'M GOING TO MISS UWE BOLL

Uwe Boll is a unique man. As a director, he is singlehandedly responsible for some of the absolute worst video game adaptations known to man. These films aren't just terrible video game adaptations though, they're terrible movies in general. Go down the list and see for yourself:

House of the Dead
Alone in the Dark
Bloodrayne (three fucking films!)
In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale (again, three fucking films!)
Far Cry
Postal (though I kind of dig it)

Not to mention the fact that he's helmed some terrible flicks not based on video games, like Seed, Assault on Wall Street, Rampage, Blubberella, Tunnel Rats, and more besides. I can sit here all day and shit on Uwe Boll like everyone else does, but you know what? I'm not doing that. We all know what kind of movies he makes, but goddammit, you kind of have to admire him for going out there and making these pieces of shit. Plus, in all honesty, some of his flicks really aren't anywhere near as bad as many make them out to be. Boll suffers from the fact that when his name is on something, it automatically gets hated on. Is the hate justified? Well, kind of...but it really isn't more often than you may think.

News broke recently that Boll is allegedly retiring from filmmaking. If in fact true, many of the neck bearded trolls of the internet will be cumming in their pants over the news...until they realize they have one less filmmaker to bitch about.

I for one will miss Uwe Boll and his "talents". You can say whatever you want about Boll and his films, i.e. that he's an asshole and his films are garbage (and that's not false either), but I will personally miss the fact that I'll get to see whatever new trainwreck of a flick he manages to scoop out of his ass. Nine times out of ten, no matter how bad his films are, they wind up being somewhat entertaining in spite of their awfulness...mostly because you never know what the fuck is going to happen next.

So long Uwe, we hardly knew ye.

REST IN PEACE STEVE DILLON

News broke yesterday that British comic book artist Steve Dillon passed away suddenly at the age of 54 in New York City. The news certainly came as a shock to the comic world, and definitely came as a major shock to me personally. The artwork of Steve Dillon has meant a lot to me over the years, and it wouldn't be out of line to call his work iconic.

I first got a taste of Dillon's artwork when I discovered the Vertigo books Hellblazer and in particular Preacher. I had taken a lot of time away from comics in my teens, mostly because I was sick of superheroes and the same old shit issue after issue. I discovered Preacher first, and thanks to Garth Ennis' maniacal storytelling combined with Dillon's blend of gritty realism and cartoonish mayhem helped make Preacher one of my all time favorite comic books in the history of fucking ever.

His earlier work on Hellblazer, also with Ennis (who was a frequent collaborator), was just as special. I knew about the series and John Constantine previously, but I had never paid it much mind until I got my hands on Ennis and Dillon's work. So I guess I have Dillon to thank for getting me into what turned out to be probably my all time favorite comic book character as well now that I think about it.

I stuck with Ennis and Dillon when they rebooted The Punisher for Marvel years later, a character that Dillon would often find himself drawing and working on even if Ennis wouldn't be involved in it in a number of various series'. Over the years, Dillon would do a lot of Marvel work, including Wolverine Origins, Bullseye: Greatest Hits, Daredevil VS Bullseye, Ultimate X-Men, Thunderbolts, and more. Before that, Dillon cut his teeth on a number of well-known British comics, most notably Doctor Who Magazine and 2000 A.D. (the Judge Dredd-starring magazine), as well as Warrior and Rogue Trooper.

Rest in peace Steve Dillon, you will be missed.

35 YEARS OF THE EVIL DEAD

Back in the late 70s, Sam Raimi, Bruce Campbell, and their merry crew of misfits journeyed into the woods to make a movie that wasn't a porno. The end result was the original Evil Dead, which would have its original premiere in 1981; a ferocious and unrelenting horror film that came out of nowhere and took the world by storm. Unlike most films of its ilk, the original Evil Dead wasn't just a commercial success, but a critical one as well. As we all know, the surprise success of the film led to a whole franchise being born, with Evil Dead 2 in 1987, Army of the Darkness in 1992, a remake in 2013, the Ash VS Evil Dead TV show that debuted last year, and tons of merchandise, comics, video games, and more besides.

Looking back on it, that's 35 years of Evil Dead, and honestly who would have thought that the film would have resonated the way it did, let alone become a massive cult phenomenon. It's funny watching the original Evil Dead nowadays, mostly because the film itself is so damn brutal compared to everything that would come in the future. The Evil Dead franchise is known for being nasty, but pretty damn funny too (mostly thanks to the slapstick silliness of Army of Darkness). What a lot of people seem to forget is that the original Evil Dead is an unforgivably nasty little horror film that grabs you by the balls and doesn't let go. We got a slight reminder of this when the 2013 remake came out, which also pulled no punches and packed on even more gore than the original. The original film though was made on a bare-bones budget in horrid conditions, and the pure unforgiving ferocity that it displays would never be matched by any sequel or remake.

Evil Dead the film, and the franchise as a whole, has managed to say relevant 35 years later because of the unforgettable impact it had upon the horror world when it was first released. Even from 1992 on when the franchise was dormant, it still retained a more than solid following. In the late 90s/early 2000s with the advent of DVD, Anchor Bay re-released the film for new generations to discover, and that's exactly what happened.

Let's all be thankful to Sam Raimi, Bruce Campbell, and everyone else involved in bringing Evil Dead to life. The world is a better place with Ash and the Deadites in it.

BLADE RUNNER 2049, AKA DECKARD'S NOT A REPLICANT ANYMORE

It was announced earlier this week that the upcoming sequel to Blade Runner will be titled Blade Runner 2049. Considering the original film took place in 2019, that means this film will be set 30 years later, mostly likely to accommodate the fact that Harrison Ford is now old as fuck. I’ve talked before about how I’m not a fan of this idea at all, mostly because the original film manages to stand on its own (in particular the director’s cut and newer “final cut” which removes the bullshit happy ending and leaves everything open ended…which is pretty much perfect). So of course we’re getting a sequel that no one was asking for just for the sake of getting a few more nostalgia dollars out of an old property that people still revere.

The real issue I have with the concept of Blade Runner 2049 however is the fact that we are seeing basically old man Deckard. Why is this you ask? Well, the age old idea that Deckard is in fact a replicant. This idea was presented very subtly in the film, but everyone from Ford to Ridley Scott has pretty much said that yes, Deckard is indeed a replicant. It didn’t quite take a rocket scientist to figure that out to begin with, but the idea of an old Deckard pretty much means that he’s human. Replicants supposedly have short life spans, or termination dates, that span a couple to a few years. Maybe they’ll keep Deckard a replicant but have a bit of throwaway dialogue explaining that he’s a special one with no termination date? Or maybe Scott will be “na mate, we were just pulling your legs in 1982 about all that, he’s human”.

Blade Runner is a special film, in fact, it’s a visionary film. It was way ahead of its time in terms of aesthetic and theme, and even though it didn’t make much of a splash when it was first released, it managed to resonate with audiences for decades. It’s one of the best films of the 80s in general; one of the best science fiction films ever made, and is probably Ridley Scott’s finest film together with Alien. It doesn’t need a sequel and never has. I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of a sequel/spin-off that focused on new characters in the same universe, and instead leave Deckard’s fate a mystery. Alas, that’s not what’s happening.

So here we are folks, there’s a new Blade Runner film coming, whether we want it or not. Fuck this noise.

The Fallout of BLAIR WITCH

So...I was wrong.

Not too long ago, I had shared my thoughts about the new Blair Witch movie, claiming that I had believed distributor Lions Gate had only slapped that franchise label on an already completed film in an effort to earn more cash from it. After viewing Blair Witch, I can safely say that I was totally wrong about that. If Lions Gate did do such a thing, the amount of post-production work on the film would have been ridiculous, considering from the beginning on that it doesn't try to be anything else but a film in the Blair Witch universe.

I went into the film with no expectations, having never really been into the franchise at all, although I'm a diehard supporter of director Adam Wingard (You're Next, The Guest) and writer Simon Barrett. I had expected the film to be a smash hit and all and at least garner a good critical reception given the pair's pedigree and all, but then something weird happened...I enjoyed the film, and audiences apparently didn't.

Now I went through something similar recently with The Witch (also from Lions Gate), which I thought was brilliant but a majority of mainstream audiences seemed to hate because either they didn't get it, or because it didn't spell everything out to the viewer. Blair Witch kind of suffers the same fate because it offers little to no explanations to the viewer about anything, but it offers much more taut suspense than the original film ever did, at least in my opinion. Granted some of the jump scares are flat out ridiculously set up, but the film is far better than I anticipated it to be, and I enjoyed it quite a bit.

Now I know I often say this, but don't pay any attention to critics. In fact, don't pay much attention to those who have seen the film and offered their opinion on it, whether it be good or bad. See it for yourself and judge it for yourself. Also check out the films of Adam Wingard and Simon Barrett; they're fucking wonderful.

UNCUT & UNRATED EVIL DEAD IS COMING

News came out a few days ago that the long awaited, uncut, uncensored version of Fede Alvarez's 2013 remake/reboot of EVIL DEAD is finally going to see the light of day. Alvarez confirmed such while doing the press rounds for his new flick DON'T BREATHE, and it's very well known that this is something we've all been waiting for now for quite some time. This news seriously excites me more than it probably should.

The 2013 take on EVIL DEAD was a shockingly brutal and gory retread on Sam Raimi's original film, so much so that many were shocked it was granted an R rating given the extreme level of violence. The fact that there's an extended and uncut version coming soon makes me wonder just what could have gotten cut out. Funny thing is, apparently this same extended cut ran on a UK channel in 2015 by mistake when the distributor accidentally sent the wrong master of the film for TV airing. Oops.

My only question is why have we waited this long to see an uncut version of EVIL DEAD? Why has it taken this long for it to see the light of day in a wide-release? I guess it doesn't really matter honestly, and that we should just be happy that we're finally going to be able to see it in all its uncut glory.

With ASH VS THE EVIL DEAD being a smash hit and the franchise riding an all time high like never before, it's never been a better time to be an EVIL DEAD fan than it is right now. Who would have ever thought that the franchise would see such a resurgence? It's shit like this that makes it great to be a horror fan.

EVERYONE NEEDS TO SHUT UP ABOUT 31

Rob Zombie is a lot like Eli Roth to me: a fairly talented horror filmmaker that has had one truly great film on their resume, and rest of their filmography is filled with relative clunkers. With each passing film they release, I hope against hope that their upcoming flick will fulfill all that empty promise we've been handed for the past decade, and still walk away disappointed in the end. At least with Roth's case, The Green Inferno and Knock, Knock were relatively entertaining, so he's redeemed himself a bit in my eyes. In Rob Zombie's case? Not so much.

Rob Zombie's newest film, the crowdfunded 31, is upon us, and it's getting the reception that many of us thought it would: people are either loving the shit out of it, or hating it with every fiber of their being. I haven't seen it yet, but given Zombie's track record with Lords of Salem and the Halloween turds, I'm not in much of a hurry either. Trailers and looks at the film that I've seen make it look like a fairly generic piece of mediocrity, and chances are I'm probably right in my early assessment too. I'm not shitting on Rob or the movie, I'm really not, because even in the movies of his I find myself hating, I manage to find one or two elements about them that I admire the hell out of. I have a sinking feeling that with 31, that won't be the case.

One thing I've noticed lately, especially in the horror community, is that differing opinions really cause everyone's inner-asshole to come out, especially in the case of Rob Zombie films. There are people that genuinely love his Halloween films, and even consider them better than John Carpenter's classic. Now everyone's entitled to their own opinion and all, but really? Does Rob Zombie have the following he does because he's a musician first and filmmaker second? Do people actually enjoy that mess that is House of 1000 Corpses and think it's better than Devil's Rejects? One thing I've noticed in discussing things like this is that fans are fiercely defensive of Rob's work and the pedestal they place it on. Are they such a way because they know in their hearts that his work is shit?

That being said, I've seen people that have seen 31 trash the film, and those who haven't seen the film yet trash the reviewers, and vice-versa as well. Every film needs a fair chance before everyone can drop their drawers and shit all over it holding each other's hands in unison. Also, one other thing I've seen a lot of lately? People saying "if you're not a Rob Zombie fan, you're not a true horror fan". Yes, people have actually said that. These are probably the same people that don't know who Dario Argento and Lucio Fulci are but think that the Scream franchise is the greatest thing Wes Craven ever put on celluloid. Fuck these people, fuck them in the ear. But hey, that's just my opinion...right?

It's attitudes like this that make me sad. Like I said, everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but being a flat out cock knocker to someone over a differing opinion than yours is just tiresome. That's what politics and comic book geek douche bags have nailed down, keep that shit out of the horror community yeah?

Or wait, you know what? Everyone's an asshole. Just ignore people in general and you'll be alright. Also, I will end up seeing 31 at some point, as long as I don't have to pay for it that is. That's just like, my opinion man.

Brock Lesnar is a Piece of Shit

I'm a sucker for pro wrestling. Ever since I was a little kid I've followed it, well into my teens. There have been periods of time where I stop giving a shit about it granted, but I always find myself drawn back to it eventually. Lately I've found myself being all about it again after a nearly decade-long time of not paying any attention to it at all, and in doing so I have come to a shocking conclusion...

...Brock Lesnar is a piece of shit.

Now I knew this back in the early/mid-2000s when he made his WWE debut and was pushed to the moon. It's extremely rare you see a guy his size have the kind of athleticism that he possesses, so naturally he was pegged to be the new face of the company. After a messy exit, Brock floated around the NFL and found a lot of success in UFC too before coming back for another go-around with WWE. I was never all that fond of Brock as a competitor, mostly because I knew from the offset he was going to be pegged as the next big thing. Aside from a super entertaining feud with Kurt Angle, just seeing Brock and his big fucking head annoyed the piss out of me.

In the time that Brock has come back, he's managed to receive another massive push while being on a part-time contract, which is fine because he's a big money draw just on his name alone. He's built a brand for himself by being an unstoppable monster of a man that does as he wishes just based on intimidation alone, not counting the fact he could take any one of us and rip us in two. Brock knows this, and combined with his massive ego, makes him one of the biggest toolbags in modern day existence.

Brock Lesnar is a no-necked potato-head looking motherfucker.

Between his UFC steroid shit, and the fact he probably went off script to prove a point last weekend at SummerSlam by busting up Randy Orton (what was scripted and what wasn't is still in question), Brock has that attitude of doing what he wants because no one can stop him. He's an overgrown caveman that was more than likely that jock bully douche bag you knew in high school whose dad had a brand new pickup truck every year and yelled drunken insults at sporting events he would make his kid participate in.

So yeah, in case you can't tell, I'm not much of a Brock Lesnar fan. I wish WWE would can him and not put up with his shit, but they won't, because he's a money printing machine. Thankfully he's only part time and we don't have to see his no-necked potato-head looking ass every week.

Fuck off Brock.

Why You Should Watch TURBO KID

Over the past few years, there's been a rise of 80s nostalgia appearing in film, music, and video games. Notable examples include the video game FAR CRY: BLOOD DRAGON, the short film KUNG FURY, and everything produced by synth-pop band Gunship. I find myself enjoying just about all of this stuff quite a bit, but there's something I hold above and beyond all of that since I first discovered it: motherfucking TURBO KID.

TURBO KID is the fever dream of 80s born kids with no budget and big hearts. It takes place in a post-apocalyptic future (well, a post-apocalyptic future that would be predicted in the 80s) and revolves around our titular hero as he struggles to both be a kid and survive against evil marauders (led by genre stalwart Michael Ironside) while contending with a very strange, would-be female companion named Apple. Everything about this film is an over the top blast to say it lightly.

I had heard about this film online for quite some time before it managed to squeak its way onto Netflix where I finally got to see it. After viewing it, I tracked it down and purchased myself a copy. I recommend you all do the same. Granted that TURBO KID doesn't do anything revolutionary with the genre, nor does it try to, but it's a bloody and brilliant good time that tugs on your nostalgia strings. It's still streaming on Netflix right now, and I encourage you all to check it out while you can. You won't regret it.

SUICIDE SQUAD MINI-REVIEW

Well, here we are. We’ve finally gotten around to SUICIDE SQUAD, and of course, it’s getting trashed by most critics, much like BATMAN V SUPERMAN did. Truth be told, it’s easy to see why: the film is hacked to hell editing-wise (it was a victim of re-shoots in an effort to lighten the tone since since BvS was lampooned for being too dark), so much so that even Jared Leto’s much hyped about role as the Joker ends up with him being barely in the film at all. Not to mention the fact that director David Ayer (FURY) was handcuffed by the studio; the end result being an uneven film lacking a true identity.

Flaws aside though, I really enjoyed it. Hell, I enjoyed it more than BvS. The characters were well cast (jury is out on Leto, just because there wasn’t enough of him to get a true reading) and they all looked the parts, even Will Smith who I’ve never been crazy about being Deadshot. It’s a mess, but it’s a very enjoyable mess, and the fact that we now have all these great DC characters on film for the first time ever (ARROW on TV doesn’t count) makes my little black geeky heart swoon.

Like BvS before it, don’t pay attention to the critics and just go see it. Also like BvS though, I’m hoping we get an uncut version down the line where Ayer’s original tone remains intact. One can only hope.

30 YEARS OF JASON LIVES!

Out of all the slasher franchises from the 80s, I think the one I have the softest spot for is the FRIDAY THE 13TH flicks. I really wish I could give a concrete reason why that is, but I can't. I guess I've always been kind of drawn to Jason Voorhees more so than Michael Myers, and even Freddy Krueger. Or maybe it's the buffet of boobs the series is known for as well? Who knows?

Anyway, today marks the 30th anniversary of a fan favorite of the franchise. On August 1, 1986, FRIDAY THE 13TH PART VI: JASON LIVES was released theatrically. This was the first film in the series to feature an undead Jason Voorhees after he is idiotically brought back to life (he was legitimately killed in Part 4 and wasn't in Part 5 at all), and was also the first film in the series to inject a lot of humor and self-awareness into it as well. This is apparent based on the film's storyline, characters, and plot elements; all of which are gleefully tongue in cheek and just totally damn fun.

While Part 4 is, in my opinion anyway, the best film in the series, JASON LIVES is pretty damn close to it. Even if you're not a fan of the franchise, you should give this one a look at the very least; it's really seriously that damn enjoyable. And it also has that amazing Alice Cooper theme song as well, which switches between cracking me the fuck up with laughter or wanting to make me rock the fuck out every single time I hear it.

Oh, and there's not a single boob in sight either, go figure.

That new BLAIR WITCH movie isn't what you think it is.

I'll admit this here and now...I've never ever liked THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT. I know it was a massive indie hit and became a phenomenon and all, but I could just never get into it. Well, I couldn't get into the film that is. The mythology of it on the other hand, I definitely got into. It's sequel a few years after, BOOK OF SHADOWS: BLAIR WITCH 2, is ridiculously awful, but should be seen just for how bad it truly is.

A while back I saw a teaser trailer for something called THE WOODS, boasting that it was directed by Adam Wingard. Wingard directed some great segments in the first two V/H/S flicks, as well as recent favorites of mine YOU'RE NEXT and THE GUEST. Needless to say, given what the teaser offered and having him attached to it made me excited for it. Well, ComicCon was here, and guess what? Somehow one way or another, THE WOODS is now BLAIR WITCH. That's right, the film has been rechristened a Blair Witch movie (thanks post-production wizardry!) so now we're getting a long-awaited (?) third Blair Witch flick.

This feels kind of cheap to me. I seriously doubt there was any intention of this being a Blair Witch movie to begin with, but considering Lions Gate (the film's studio that owns the rights to Blair Witch after buying out Artisan years back) often bleeds money and has a dormant, once profitable name lying around, why not slap it on the film and re-edit some shit to make it a new entry in the franchise? And why not? This way it's guaranteed to make more cash than it probably would just being called THE WOODS or something.

Either way, I'm still going to see it because I'm a big believer in Adam Wingard and what he brings to the table. I just wish that some franchises would stay dormant and more original horror ideas would be pushed to the forefront.

Yeah, like that would ever become the norm. That shit makes no money.

WE'RE GETTING MORE SAW...FOR SOME REASON

Well, I guess we're getting another SAW movie after all...sigh...

Of all the horror franchises I can think of, the SAW series is probably my least favorite, so much so that I've never seen a few of the franchise's entries. I think I just got burned out because there was a long period of time when we were getting a new SAW movie every single year, and each one was worse than its previous entry. But hey, they made a shit load of money and were made for dirt cheap, so you really can't beat that kind of profit margin.

Eventually, fans started to grow tired of the franchise, and the SAW series has been dormant since 2010's SAW 3D. Well, next year we're getting another SAW flick, though details on it are a little murky. Is it a reboot? Is it a whole new entry? Is Cary Elwes going to be the new Jigsaw (he doesn't really have much to do these days)? Who knows, but for me though, it's more like who cares? I know this series has its long-admiring fans, and that's all well and good, please don't think I'm shit talking here, but I just could never ever get into the whole torture porn sub-genre. And those that praise the overarching story of the SAW series that continuously got more and more convoluted and confusing with each passing film? Yeah, after the third film, I said enough was enough.

One positive thing I will say about SAW (and which I've often said about it) is that when the first film hit theaters in 2004, it really was a breath of fresh air to the mainstream horror genre. At the time, all we were getting were shitty PG-13 rated remakes of Japanese horror films. They were watered down garbage aimed at teenage girls, and it was just a big, bad, and boring time for horror. When the first SAW hit, the bloodshed and dark tone was what we needed. Audiences thought the same because it became such a massive hit that it birthed a franchise with new installments every year...before that imploded that is.

Regardless, we're getting more SAW movies...ugh...

In the meantime, I'm still waiting for that new Phantasm flick that's been stuck in release and distribution hell.

25 Years of TERMINATOR 2

25 years ago, we were graced with what is probably the best sequel of all time: James Cameron's Terminator 2. I was six years old (going on seven) and I actually managed to see this in theaters. How did that happen exactly? Well, I whined and begged to see it, mostly because I knew who Arnold Schwarzenegger was and because the movie was being marketed everywhere (I didn't see the first Terminator film until much, much later in life).

I remember enjoying what I saw, and being very, very sad over Ah-nold lowering himself into the molten steel at the end, and it wasn't until later on that I watched the film again and started understanding things better. As the years would follow, my love for Terminator 2 only grew (as well as my love for the first film), and the more I learned about it, the more appreciation I had for it. The long shooting schedule, the massive budget for its time (it was at one point the most expensive movie ever made), the way ahead of their time CGI effects (that mostly somehow still manage to hold up today).

If there's any negatives to Terminator 2, it's that there were additional films that followed it. What's ironic though is that no one was asking for a sequel to The Terminator to begin with, but with Ah-nolds since-catapulted global fame and Cameron's status as a blockbuster director, it became something that needed to happen. And low and behold, it was the biggest movie and phenomenon in the world for a period of time.

Terminator 2 has a special place in my heart and always will. It's that perfect mix of action, science fiction, and even a little tree-hugging that doesn't miss a beat and gets every little thing right. Seriously, I can't think of many, if any at all, negatives about this film to this day. The first film was a perfect mix of action, suspense, horror, sci-fi, and even film noir elements on a micro budget. James Cameron really knew what he was doing, and the end result was something very, very special.

You should go watch it again one more time. You'll be glad that you did.

Not Giving a Shit About Virtual Reality

Video games are changing.

E3 happed not too long ago, where it appeared that more games were going to begin following the path of VR (specifically the new "Resident Evil" game) and even current consoles are going to be receiving upgraded forms that can handle doing virtual reality shit. I have no clue how this shit works, nor do I care too much.

Now I've said before on here many times, that I'm sitting this console cycle out for the most part. I bought myself a Wii-U because I got it on a super cheap deal (and now I'm one of eight Wii-U owners across the planet, yayyyyyy) and I don't regret that purchase because I've had a shit load of fun with the console believe it or not. PS4 and Xbox One though I've decided to stay away from. I honestly haven't seen too much that's turned my crank as of yet, and part of me thinks I'm not going to either (granted there's a new "King of Fighters" game coming out that I would love to get my hands on, but I digress). VR accessibility doesn't make things any more appealing for me either.

Yeah, I know I sound like an old man here, and I don't care either. I remember when the Wii came out and everyone shit all over the motion controls gimmick; most saying it was just a fad and didn't really add much to the gameplay experience. Well, those people turned out to be right for the most part, and I think VR is more or less in the same vein. The technology itself is amazing, don't get me wrong. Video games have come a long fucking way since the Atari 2600 and all, and it really does seem like the future has arrived.

But ya know what? Fuck the future.

Maybe I've gotten to that age finally where I want to be left in the past as far as video games are concerned. Maybe the more technologically advanced they become, the more alienated I feel. When games started getting all about DLC and microtransactions and milking the fuck out of gamers for every cent that they can get, I started to feel out of touch. Now I feel even more out of touch than ever before. It happens to us all eventually though I guess, so there's that. Maybe I can hook up with other jaded gamers that have no interest in this shit huh?

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.