One hundred and fifty down. Is there anything left to bleed?
My name is Kev. These were my stories.
summer's gone, the day is done soon comes the night
biding time, leaving the line and out of sight
14 years agoKevlar
The tiny, musclebound gnomes in my head go to work to bring you ideas companies will surely steal for their ingenuity.
Pantene Introduces its New Pro-V Bloodmoon(R) Collection...
Endorsed by Gorgoroth!
The Festering Age saw the rise and fall of Marakesh, the Howling God of Pain, and his blight cast a deep shadow that split the land into deep tracts. In these tracts, magical pools gathered and receded; some eventually turned solid and became known as shards of power for their infused properties. Legend says that when the shards are reunited, Marakesh himself will return to the land and scoop all living things into his gaping maw, chewing for all eternity as he courses the eons. Some even say that time will come soon.
...Here at Pantene's Research Department, we are proud to announce a new line of hair care and exfoliation products for the discerning psychotic hardcore black metal enthusiast. Using the power of the shards and deftly avoiding any kind of messy eternal torture and/or mastication, we are confident our products will stand the test of time, even in the salivating grasp of an unholy, towering creature.
The Bloodmoon(R) collection is specially designed to maintain both your hygiene and your indignity. Want to show the world you don't shower? Our special Wolfsbane formula caresses your hair, de-tangles, and then re-tangles and flattens to make it look like you've spent the past three days tunneling through the ass of a dead whale. Now you'll be as scruffy as your friends with half the effort!
And while your blackened tears may wash away in the unforgiving sting of a high-pressure shower, our performance conditioner and sun-damage treatment won't back down. Vampire or werewolf, we've got you covered with our extensive array of products.
Says Infernus of Gorgoroth: "When I'm fellating Satan in the darkest corners of the earth, I don't have time to run my hair through the feed trough at the local zoo. That's why I use Pantene's patented Bloodmoon(R) solution to give my hair the quick pick-up-then-turn-down-and-stinkify look it needs."
Yes, Infernus. We hope you'll all agree that when fellating Satan you should look your best. So whichever unholy deity comes to claim us first as we suck the blood of orphans, Pantene's patented Bloodmoon(R) line of haircare and exfoliation products will have you ready for the inevitable, screaming doom.
Pantene - loving you with our hardened souls since 2001. And then you went mainstream, you backstabbing son of a succulent whore.
i just want
something for nothing
14 years agoKevlar
While Dorf is out roaming the countryside I suppose I should make some posts in-between. This original text was from months ago and was never put up for a number of reasons - primarily for not wanting to look like I can compain about anything. I have since decided that if you can't see this as tongue-in-cheek, then I really can't do any more for you.
Busy lately with life - trying to keep up. It's tough when I have a little counter reminding me how much time I could have been spending working instead of being on the site.
Hi, hun. Listen... We have to talk.
We have had a great relationship. I like spending time with you and I think you're wonderful. No, no, no crying, I'm not about to do that. I just need to talk to you about something important.
The glitter has got to go.
I understand that a lot of young people are doing it now. It's the cool fashion accessory. But I see two distinct glitter issues that I want to outline here:
1) Glitter can be an effective fashion accessory, yes. When it's applied correctly to highlight aesthetically-pleasing features. Ask yourself: Does glitter on your forearms or randomly on your face constitute an effective glitter application? Or does it suggest you were birthed by a glazed donut? I mean, I don't know.
Hey. Wait until I'm done making my presentation before you hit me.
2) Ok, I get it. You're fun. But you don't need that much glitter to be fun. As a matter of fact, I don't even know how you get a half-track of the stuff - but I wish you'd tell me someday. Why can't you have a normal hobby like chewing bubblegum, or doing speed? There's no need for this obsessive volume!
Seriously, there's so much I end up with it on m--
Look, just, please stop. I wake up the next morning and I think for a second I've gained superpowers, and I always end up disappointed.
...I'm glad we can have these kinds of conversations.
don't look at me that way
14 years agoKevlar
Click here for parts 1 and 2 - backstory.
For background on this particular email, click here.
Subject: RE: Support for your Cause
Hail and well met, Jack Thompson!
I have just returned from an excursion on my lighter-than-air balloon device, the HMS Borfdorfle, and I longed to discuss at length with you the growing problem of these videogaming scamps. However, I see that my Inbox is empty. Empty, Jack Thompson! And to think that a fortnight ago I was happily raping away in the jungle, constructing a colorful plumed headdress to match my Codpiece of Doom (and the black pus that forms my videogame-playing soul) and imagining your vigorous interest in my prior invitation! Well, the macaws are violated, Jack. They are all violated. And the wine is no longer chilled.
I miss you, but I can't wait forever for a girl like you. What, is your national news coverage too good for me?
Well, I suppose I will retire to my Raised Ranch of Solitude. But before I do, perhaps I can continue to help you in the way you've helped me understand the evil of videogames! The term of the day today is self-fulfilling prophecy.
No, really. I think it's an important one for you to know. (And don't worry, I'll use small words.) Let's say we have two parties, referred to here as "No" and "Drunk." When Group 1's (No's) perception and bias makes them change their behavior towards and treatment of Group 2 (Drunk), expecting them to behave in a certain way, sometimes that behavioral shift causes Group 2's (Drunk's) behavior to match the prediction. It's science!
In any event, I thought I'd mention as I think it relates to your troubles with death threats. While someone as devilishly handsome as yourself should never be threatened, or anyone else for that matter, I do suspect that your long-standing history of linking all of teenagedom and young adults to eventual vile murderers may have angered some. And today's little term - yes, that one right up above this block of text - may have had something to do with it.
In short, while it's beyond inappropriate to receive those threats, if you're honestly surprised that your angry condemnations of an entire generation has in itself propelled an angry outburst then you are an unfathomable goddamn idiot.
Tee-hee! Keep in touch, you lovable lout!
Sincerely longing to show off the headdress,
gonna write you a letter
gonna write you a book
14 years agoKevlar
My mind wanders to the stories never fully told. Here's a collection of truth/text that never made the final cut, rearranged in chronological order with the original post(s) linked where appropriate.
I was out walking, and those doors were a beautiful sight.
It was one of those 'classy' hotels, trying to cover up the fact that it was just another dot on the commercial lane with its own tired architecture. I didn't care so long as there was a bed, and finding the bar within ten feet of the entrance was a bonus. I just needed a place to escape from the stress; a place to settle down. Thank God for this wedding to give me a night of fun.
It was set to start in a few hours. My room was ready and I had a drink before even thinking about the tux.
(Hell, if I was to give a good speech I should be primed for the event, and I'll need all the help I can get.)
Then, it happened.
I came to in that damned room with a makeshift splint of brochures and yarn holding my arm together, and she was gone. There was no way she would have stayed after last night. I tried to move and winced in pain as I shifted off the bed. How long had I been here? Not trusting the clock, I looked to my watch which was neatly arranged with my tux. The mess of the previous night had been swept away, just like she wanted to sweep away what she did to me. I looked in the mirror and remembered why my eyes were so sullen. It came so easily, and yet, I held on gently to the disbelief before moving again.
A new face with the same bad ending - it seemed to be my calling card. Laughing at the thought, I ripped off the splint and stumbled down to the buffet to demand something for a hangover. Since I couldn't drink her out of my mind this morning would be another moment for honesty.
There's something deadly about a woman whose first words are "Entertain me." Lord knows I've met my share of them before (and after) this one; should I really be surprised at the results? That the great sex and the dedication and the love and laughs, eventually, are never enough? That you become so much to her you must be there and you must never falter? She knows how much I gave - she knows how true I am - and she screamed in fits like a child yesterday, afraid that her favorite toy was being taken away. I tried to calm her down and it only made her louder. And there we stood, best man and girlfriend, with her yelling to the hundreds that I wasn't paying enough attention to her. That a man spending ten minutes at his best friend's side in the most important moment of his life - with all his obligations and carrying his fears - was somehow wrong in doing so. I offered to not sit at the head table and be with her all night - a huge insult to the man at my left, placing his confidence in me. She screamed that I had no grasp on reality to let her stand there while tending to my duty, and I took it, saying nothing meant to hurt her as was always my way. All I could do was stand and picture was the moments we spent, and the patience I had. The ones I turned away while she spent part of our anniversary with another man.
And the room, having seen nothing but the end of our story, glared at me. The obvious villain.
Cranberry juice, eggs, bacon and a shave. That's all I wanted.
I walked up to the newlyweds' room and slipped a note under the door, saying:
"There once was a man named Kevlar,
Who spent far too much time at the bar.
All those drinks were his friends
Until they came out the wrong end
But at least he's not married...
And I left a tasteful note on the back, just for him: "PS> My pee is orange."
I smiled at the thought of them reading it. Oh, I entertained. I was meant to give everyone a good show and that's just what I did in more ways than one.
But maybe my time to entertain was up. Maybe I'd given so much of myself I was lost, and no future amount of barstools and moments alone could get it back. I hated being the crutch and the clown, expected to perform, and the reward was ending up very much the broken fool myself. Looks like I'll forever have the scar to prove it, too. Still hurts to the touch.
At the least, it's a life that doesn't leave much option, if much misunderstanding.
The waitress brought the check and smiled, and like every time before I looked hard at the life I wrought.
Somewhere on the path I must have gone wrong. But maybe next time I could get it right...
I was walking out, and those doors were a beautiful sight.
the worst thing in the world
is missing someone who's right there
14 years agoKevlar
Thursday, July 7th, 6:30 PM
So this is how my 500-mile trek begins? Standing in the bus terminal, downtown, looking into the sky as the sun is dragged beneath the bruised eve. I've already been awake since 5:00 in the morning to pack and will be awake at least 30 hours by the time I reach Toronto. I send a text message to a special person, fancying myself a momentary Bogart, and out of the corner of my eye a haggard man approaches.
"Excuse me, sir? Do you have some spare change? I could use it for some food. I mean, I won't spend it on booze or anythi--"
I've been to enough cities to hear these speeches - it's easy to get played with the sob stories. But for someone to be so direct; to flat out ask for money and promise me they'll use it for food? I look down and my eyes meet his.
"No no no."
I hand him a $10.
"You're getting an expensive beer and a cheap trick."
He stares for a moment, then impulsively grabs the bill.
I hop on the bus shortly after. The driver announces the bathroom is broken and immediately begins driving.
Thursday, July 7th, 9:45 PM
Western Massachusetts is even less beautiful. A smoke-stained building is all that stands in the pool of yellow light against the dusk and I dejectedly kick cigarrette butts while I wait for the next bus. It takes so long I've formed a neat pile of trash in the corner while using the phone. Dear God, I'm nesting. A family sits inside and stares at me through the thick glass of the seating area.
Do people actually live here? Westfield or Fucktown or wherever this is? The roads seem so narrow and the lights so dim I imagine mere props beyond the street; a shanty town in such poor shape the shanties themselves moved to better neighborhoods.
This terminal bathroom has also been rendered inoperative. Perhaps there is some Restroom Baron riding the rails and ruining what was once a flushable region of the country. I make a mental note to do something about it if I find him. But boss battles aside, my ride is here.
Friday, July 8th, 12:15 AM
I'm somewhere in New York State which is apparently Dance Party USA. Help. ...Ok, I'll explain. This bus must be SUNY-bound because half of it is currently being powered by drugs and teen angst. Across the aisle from me, a guy sits while he talks with his girlfriend and rubs her legs with his hand. He send texts messages with the other, and in his lap sits his iPod for all to hear. Thus begins the competition of who can make their blue-LED player chirp louder. I win by default beacuse I am playing Fucking Pantera. You, my new friend, do not out-crunk Fucking Pantera.
Sleep and a bathroom is too much to ask for. I silently blame the Restroom Baron for his evil machinations.
Friday, July 8th, 3:30 AM
Albany is an interesting sight when completely devoid of life. Flickering streetlights and buildings rise into the black. I defend the last open space on the bus and almost make it out unscathed.
Friday, July 8th, 3:40 AM
"Hi, how are ya?"
"Good. Where you headed?"
Well, if this didn't just open the fucking floodgates. This man with the diminutive, droning voice and the 150-lb suitcase has now wedged me against the emergency exit, and the most infuriating part is that while I now hate him the most I can't physically get away from him.
Friday, July 8th, 4:00 AM
Have you ever discussed the socioeconomic policy of Haiti with a complete stranger at 4:00 in the morning? Because I have!
No, really; that's not the joke. Captain Talkative just got back from there on a consulting bid for a power plant.
"...y'know, they've got maybe 1.8 bil in bullion, mmkay?..."
I really begin to wonder what precise trajectory landed me in this place, at this time, not only having this conversation but apparently also giving him enough to continue on.
Oh, right. They call it Hell.
"...now, you imagine you'd want to do a 10-1 split, right?"
Of course, because a complete stranger you've been speaking to for a half-hour must be able to discuss complex accounting principles!
I begin looking for ways to throw myself from the emergency window.
Friday, July 8th, 4:30 AM
It has now been an hour of unprompted speech.
"...well, for any startup venture you want to always make $4 on every $1 you spend, mmkay?..."
I begin looking for ways to throw him from the emergency window.
Friday, July 8th, 7:00 AM
Having kicked Captain Talkative off into another seat as soon as it opened up I almost get a wink of sleep as the sun rises. And right as my eyes close? We finally pass through Buffalo and arrive in Niagara for a customs check. Despite the Falls being 20 feet away from me the driver refuses to let me leave the line to take pictures, and the world is a broken toilet.
Has my dreaded journey finally ended? Can I stumble forth, exhausted but triumphant?
"And where are you headed today?"
"Um, Ryerson University. Toronto."
"Oh, really? Studying there?"
"Well, no, you see... It's more like a film premiere."
"Ohhh. A film premiere in a university, huh? What film?"
"Well, um... *clears throat* It's an Internet film. *squinty-eyed whisper* It's a comedy."
"An internet comedy in Toronto. I see. Hold on for a moment, please."
*begins furious lookup of my life history*
CURSE YOU RESTROOM BARON!
my god and savior
14 years agoKevlar
Subject: Support for your Cause
Dear Jack Thompson,
I wanted to write in and express my support for your recent undertakings in condemning Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas and The Sims 2 in the mainstream press for 'sexual content'. Considering the serious theme of today's newscasts I understand how difficult it can be for someone as mediocre as yourself to get regular airtime. However, when I do come across your various soundbites condemning videogames, like dung strewn in a spiraling, concentric pattern from the monkey cage, I am provided with a humorous break from the issues that actually affect our nation and I applaud you for the effort.
Also, I hope you can understand the physiological strain this places on me to write such a message, having spent so much of my life in murder simulators attaining altered neural pathways and other terms you may use that vaguely remind me of Lost in Space. Speaking of Lost in Space, do you remember the episode where Dr. Smith calls the Robot a pusillanimous pinhead? I'd say I loved that one except the more I think about it the more I realize that phrase sums up every episode.
You, my friend, remind me of such old episodes; you dance, gasping to deliver your moral message and think it applies while we laugh and watch only for the curious sentiment of another time. Allow my murder-stained mind to deliver two simple realities of the world today:
1) While videogames were gaining in popularity in the 1990s, violent crime was in steady decline.
2) Incidence of violent crime is even lower in European countries and Japan where videogames have just as much (if not more) popularity.
Using my apparently-defunct but still deductive mind: if the control of videogames in society exists in both the United States and Europe/Japan, and the United States has admittedly horrible tragedies and a higher rate of violence than others, then there are other variables that contribute to the crime rate. Call me crazy - wait, you already have because I pursue an avenue of entertainment different than yourself - but let's begin with the incidence of violent crime here. Let's say that there are 30 shooting sprees per year in the United States by teens you'd be all too happy to link to videogaming. In contrast, there are millions of videogamers leading perfectly normal lives.
If interactive entertainment is so reviled why aren't all gamers brandishing weapons, Jack? Why aren't we all committing heinous acts? It's certainly easy enough to obtain a high-powered weapon with the gun-control rollbacks of the past five years, not that that small matter would have a causal relation to violence. And you could easily establish the same percentage of people who commit violent crimes out of any subset of the American populace, and many subsets you could name would destroy your career and discredit you immediately for being considered ridiculous claims. Why not videogames, then?
Do these psychotic few embrace killing because of videogames, or do they use videogames as a release because they embrace killing? Here's a hint: Their warped minds would have sought another venue for their thoughts had videogames not existed. More importantly throughout all of this: where were their parents? Where was the school guidance counselor? There is an entire societal network of failure surrounding their unfortunate ends; a societal network that was constructed to catch these few who would have just as much propensity for violence without games. Police officers, social workers, parents, school administrators, psychiatrists and people like you involved in their lives failed to see the warning signs. Blaming something so simple as a videogame and so similar to any other form of entertainment is the real escapism at work, Jack. It's an easy, packaged and dangerous way to defer blame from all corners of a competitive society that has too many problems to begin with and distill it into a sensational story today's media would much rather tell.
Parents don't want to hear that they should be spending time at home with their children and ensuring they are mature enough to understand content openly displayed on a game box (or any media, for that matter). People don't want to hear that their competitive rush to acquire drives us all against each other and creates an atmosphere of hate. No, people don't want to think about the real, underlying problems in this society because that's hard work without a simple answer. They want a singular entity to blame, and movies and music are far too established to be used anymore as a real punching bag. Why talk about such annoying things as collective American indifference to energy overconsumption and soldiers dead and dying in Iraq? Who remembers Afghanistan now? And who wants to talk about actual reasons for violence like poorly-raised children who were never straightened out and had easy access to weaponry? Look, there's a pixellated suggestion of a dick! Let's all talk about it instead of the real issues! And Jack Thompson is here to save the day!
I condemn you as an ignorant-yet-willing accomplice in this ludicrous attack on millions of Americans.
In the meantime, thanks for continuing to be the hack you are and blindly accusing any easy target that comes across your path as the downfall of an entire generation. (Didn't you learn anything growing up during the backlash against Rock 'n' Roll? Or was it the Civil War?) Because when this world comes crashing down, Jack, I'm certain it will be two people humping on a TV screen that's caused it.
Sincerely awaiting your pained reply at the thought of having to talk to a psychotic videogamer sub-human,
No questions have been answered yet