Having A Slash

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There's something about the slasher film that makes me think that they're written by the socially rejected. Look at the clichès of it and you'll find it generally involves obnoxious teenaged dicks enjoying parties, having fun and then getting stabbed in the fucking face. The jocks are all braindead dickheads and the cheerleaders are big-titted bitches who we aren't too disappointed to lose. Did you have sex? Then you can fucking die! Did you drink alcohol? Then you can fucking die! Did you happen to be born with good looks? Then fuck you because you can die too you lucky cunt! However, were you not invited to those parties? Is the closest you've ever been to getting laid that time you thought you could smell your friends having sex? Do your friends treat you like a little dollop of poopy dog shit? Then congratulations because you're the lead in the franchise! It's like the geeks have written themselves an idealised world in which everything revolves around them and anyone whose ever made them feel insecure is likely to feel the naughty end of a poking knife.

Coming Out In The Cold

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Doesn't everyone just love it when it snows? Sure a few pensioners'll freeze to death... Junkies, hoboes and whores too I imagine! But at least we get to make some snowmen! I live in England where it doesn't really snow that often, the weather instead subjecting us to fifty-two weeks of over-cast bullshit a year. Even on the rare occasion that the Cloud God does choose to jizz forth his frosty joy and present us with some snow, it never lasts. Within an hour of having fun, the snow has all turned to sludge and the cars are all skidding about and killing people like a nationwide remake of Death Race but on ice. You know that joyful past time of the snowball fight? Well, if it snowed when we were in school then we'd have one of those in the playground. Harmless enough you might think except that most people tried to ensure that their chilly projectile was at its largest by filling it with rocks, broken glass and dog shit. All it took was a few flakes to hit the ground and we'd be left with an entire generation that'd be blind forever. I have no actual knowledge that could prove my upcoming statement... but if you find me somebody who has lost their sight, then I bet you that you've also brought me somebody who’s been hit in the eyes by a frozen turd.

Life's A Garden

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Does anybody even have half of an idea as to what they want to do with their lives? Beyond the fact that I'm sure that mine will end with a rusty tin-can being used to open my veins, I haven't a fucking clue. I used to think about the future and see it as a giant black hole that I was aimlessly floating towards like a giant, lost turd. These days however I feel well and truly absorbed by the grim, vortex of solitude as I spend my life trapped and alienated from whatever bullshit I should be doing.  Anyway, seems as I've fuck all planned between now and death I figured I'd catch up with something that I've been meaning to see for over a decade. There's a film called Garden State which is written, directed and starring Zach Braff that even after ten years has refused to piss off into obscurity. I remember when it came out that it seemed to get some good reviews but I had no idea that it'd still be remembered after all of this time. I've known people for longer than that whose names I've never bothered to learn so I figured there must be something about this film that must be worth a watch. Oh, and is it just me or does the title not sound like a euphemism for asking somebody how they keep their pubes? It probably is just me isn't it... Oh well.