Monday, November 22, 2010

FLAWLESS


The grogginess this morning was like a sheen of milk in his eyes. His head feels like it’s filled with wet cotton. Tylenol PM last night? That stuff ALWAYS puts him under too deep, a deep sleep that’s always almost impossible to climb up out of. But sometimes you need to get a good nights sleep.


He looks over and sees the sleek and flawless body next to him. The sheets partially covering the perfect ass and legs. He looks at the blond hair lose along the pillows covering delicate shoulders obscuring the gorgeous face. He smiles. What did he do to deserve such a wonderful woman? The light shimmers along her perfect skin as she shifts and mumbles slightly in her sleep. He hears her breathing and he feels a huge shudder of love.

John Isphus gets out of bed and steps quietly around the room trying not to wake his girlfriend Shannon up. She works hard and today is her day off he thinks. She is such a wonderful girl who gives so much to friends and family. The least he can do is let her sleep in.

In the bathroom he performs his morning rituals. He brushes his teeth, gagging in the mirror. Washes his face, goes to the bathroom, and applies deodorant. He’s ready for another day of high adventure at Goodman & Eblis Law partners.

He smells the smell of freshly brewed coffee. The pricetag on this coffeemaker was more then most people make a week, but damn did it make a perfect cup of joe.
One thing John doesn’t skimp on is quality. His condo’s the best in the upper class neighborhood of Brentwood. His m60 BMW coupe doesn’t just get him to work, he gets to work in serious style. His girlfriend is not only beautiful but practically an angel. His friends are gregarious but close, and they’ll stand next to him no matter what. His bank account is in the 6 digits. His parents are happy and healthy living in San Jose.

No matter which way you slice it, life is perfect for John. The best of all possible worlds.

As he drinks his coffee John hears the clicks on the floor from his dog’s paws. If a dog is man’s best friend, Shuck the black retriever is his.

“Good morning fuzz butt.” John says as he scratches under Shuck’s chin. Shucks tail could hammer nails with the intensity of it’s wagging.

“Good morning to you too.” He hears from the doorway to the kitchen. Standing in the morning’s golden rays is Shannon, wearing only one of his button up shirts. She’s stifling a yawn as she runs a hand through her blond hair.

“Good morning to you too hun.” he says as he smiles. Damn she’s hot, he thinks. Even freshly awake without primping. “I thought you were going to wake me up? Today’s the big day after all.” she says as she walks over to him and sits on his lap. She kisses him.

John is up for his review at the firm today. All indications have been that it’s going to be stellar. He’s primed for big things he’s told by everyone in the know.

“I didn’t want to wake you. I was just going to slip out and call you a little later.” he says as he looks straight into her blue eyes. “You need you beauty sleep after all...” He smiles. She returns the smile. “Dick.” She says and kisses him again.

- - - -

Nick is waiting for John as he pulls up outside of his house. Nick is Johns friend from way back when, before Goodman & Eblis, before USC, before Loyola. Half of the fun every morning is the ball busting that results in the car ride, listening to Howard and generally goofing off. The 405 freeway can be a parking lot for most of the daily transit, but the time still seems to fly by with Nick.

John pulls his gleaming red Beemer into his personalized parking spot and kills the engine. “Man, aren’t you nervous?” Nick asks. “Not at all. I have it on good authority that my review is golden. Soon you may even be calling me boss.” John replies.

“Yeah, that’ll be the day.” Nick says and smiles. They walk towards towards the courtyard as professionals zip back and forth. As John and Nick walk, John looks up and sees the large corporate sculpture that adjourns the reflecting pool in the middle of the courtyard. It’s a large copper looking ball suspended over a dark marble triangle that’s about 15 feet tall. It’s one of those things he takes for granted.

Yet...

Yet today he notices something that makes him stop. Mid laugh Nick asks “What’s wrong?” John murmurs “Hmmm... nothing.” as he steps a couple of steps closer. He looks at the marble base of the sculpture. There’s a chip in the otherwise perfect surface. A chip he’s never seen before. Now that’s he’s looking closer he can now see the spider leg like cracks emanating from the damage. The world starts to grey out as his attention is firmly held in place on the crack. He can’t hear the birds or the bustling crowd and his line of vision is slowly being sucked into the crack. He feels an almost physical pull from it as the sound of his breathing is all he hears. Is this recent? He thinks, perplexed. Funny how you never see the little blemishes in life. They should fix it. They should...
“John? Hey John? Earth to John? You OK there buddy?” Nick asks.
“Yeah, yeah...strange.” John says blinking back into reality. “Sorry, I just kinda tripped out there.”

- - - -

The meeting room for his 3:00 that John walked into was adjourned with photos of the owners of the company and a large window that curved around showing the courtyard outside. John took his chair and pulled it out and sat. Across the table sat two men, one is Old Man Goodman and the other is Old Man Ellis, the heads of the firm. They have folders in their hands and smile. This is gonna be a massacre, John thinks as he smiles back.

“So John, let’s get down to business... the purpose here this afternoon is to go over your job performance for the last 6 months. We’re really proud of your abilities and your leadership as of late. You’ve come in to your own and made the job yours.” Old Man Goodman starts of...

John nods his head, appearing to be humble but not too humble. That’s when he looks past the two men, past the window behind them and into the courtyard. The Corporate sculpture he noticed today. Time seems to slow down as his eyes focus on the piece with hungry eyes, taking in every nuance of the object. After what seems like an eternity he notices it again. The crack. The blemish, the imperfection. It was like he wasn’t in the meeting room anymore. He felt right next to the thing. He feels like he could reach out and touch it.

“John.”

He hears his name called off in the distance. What is that? He doesn't care. The only thing that really matters in the world right now is this crack. He doesn't know why. It’s an abhorrent thing. He feels tendrils of revulsion reach from inside the crack and draw him in. He looks closer and closer... his mind drifting...

“JOHN!”

John’s eyes snap open. The two men are now standing and looking at him, jaws slack with barely stifled anger. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” Old Man Ellis coughs out redfaced.
“I... I... dunno.” John replies. He’s looking around now. He notices the time. It’s 3:16! Sixteen minutes!?! It felt like a second or two!
“How... dare... you!” Old Man Ellis barely sputters out. “Who do you think you’re talking to, you little prick?”
“What did I say!?!” John says as he struggles to find mental footing.
Old Man Goodman adjusts his glasses shakily. “You seemed to go into some trance. You then said things... things...” He shook his head, pained.
“You’re done here.” Ellis says point blank. The words cut through John like bullets. “Get your stuff and leave.”

- - - -

“I don’t know what happened.” John says as he drives.

“What? Did you psyche-out or something? You had it in the bag!” Nick replies incredulous. “I’m really sorry man... that’s really weird. At least it’s an early day for me today.” The joke doesn’t lighten the situation any.

What should he tell Nick? John thinks. That he was thinking about the crack on some useless Corporate sculpture? That time seemed to draw out and he has no memory of what he said. They wouldn’t even tell him. But it must have been reprehensible... downright evil. Why did he trip out again on the stupid crack?

In his minds eye he sees it again. The crack. Only about two inches tall. Did someone bump into it? Was it vandalism? He imagines himself standing next to the object in the water but he’s not wet he notices. He feels as slight shudder and hears distance thunder but he doesn’t care. He realizes that he’s holding a roundish ceramic bowl in his hands. What should he do with this bowl? He dips the bowl in the water and lifts it up and splashes his face and takes a drink.

Sirens?

Even though he’s looking at the bowl, he blinks his eyes. Durning the time of the blink he sees smoke and his hearing kicks in. The air is filled with sirens. He opens his eyes again and he sees the sculpture. The sirens are quiet now. Blink. Blink. Blink.

John sits in his now totaled car. The sounds of complete chaos hill the air as he now smells rubber and engine fluids. He hears police radios and through the smoke he sees colored lights strobing. He looks to his right.

A blue Mazda is up-ended over the passenger side of the car. He’s looking up at the headlights that point up to heaven. He’s glad Nick isn’t in the seat. It’s too small of an area for him to fit into.
Then he sees the arm. He follows it up to a twisted pile of flesh and fabric that’s wringing wet with blood. He feels a stickiness on his face and tastes copper. His mouth is still full from the water. He spits out a gout of gory thick blood down the front of his shirt and lap. He looks down and as sees about a fourth of Nicks head looking back at him in his hands. One unblinking eye and the upper left part of Nicks head is all he can make out. He feels his fingers dig into the tattered biological material behind the mask that was once his friend and he vomits.

- - - -

“Honey? Are you all right?” John hears as his mind reels back in like a fishing line. He’s sitting on his bed and he remembers what happened. The doctors gave him a clean bill of health and he had left the hospital post haste. He had given his statement and cleaned up. He hadn’t mentioned the daydream to the doctors. He left that little part out. He still felt sticky and the taste in his mouth... best not to think about it otherwise he’d throw up again.

He looked at the door drunkenly. Shannon had come home immediately from her parents house to keep an eye on him. She was strong and maternal. That was exactly what he needed right now.

“Hey hun... sorry... I was a million miles away.” He said with a dry chuckle. She walked across the room and sat down next to him and put her hand on his and held it.
“When you want to talk I’ll be here.” She said looking deep into his eyes. As she said it she squeezed his hand firmly when she said “talk”, “I’ll”, and “here”. She looked away. That’s when he realized that she was not telling him something.

“What is it? I’m fine...” He started.

“Honey... I...” she started. She dropped his hand and started wringing hers. “I think you may be in trouble. Some witnesses say that you swerved into oncoming traffic right before the accident. A policeman told me that you shouldn’t go too far away for a while. I think they’re putting together a case against you.” She said flatly and to the point. He was dumbstruck.

“It was an accident! I didn’t... I mean I...” What could he say? That he had some weird spell and came too a couple of seconds after a horrific accident that he had caused? He felt his stomach drop out as an overwhelming dread seemed to creep up his spine.

First he lost his job, then his best friend being horribly killed, and now this? he put his head in his hands. Everything had been so great. And in the course of a couple of days it had been blown to hell.

He felt the sounds in the room start to fade into the back of his head. Oh no, not again he thought. He didn’t want to look, didn’t want to see the world change again around his consciousness. Every time it did it ended with the destruction of another part of his life. Off in the distance he could hear the sound of ethereal music. Quiet at first but growing...

He hazarded a look up between his fingers. The room was gone and a thin white mist filled the air. As he focused in the distance he could sense a spot of some kind of origin, where reality met and converged. All at once the feeling like a reversal of gravity occurred where instead of pulling him down it was pulling him forward. His feet left the ground as he rocketed forward, beyond terminal velocity, faster then he’s ever gone.

And there it was. The crack. It seemed like it wasn’t just a physical crack, it felt like a crack in the world. A crack to another world where only bad, cancerous things existed on the other side shrouded in wet darkness. But the crack was more... it was also desire and the forbidden. Ashamedly he felt his body react to that thought. Anger flooded him as he reached for it, and started to claw like a wild animal, tearing into it with insane abandon. Anger, terror and passion fueled him into a frenzy of violence. He had to destroy it. He fought like a man possessed.

As he flailed madly he could feel a presence of... something... watching him. It felt like someone was right behind him about three feet away over his right shoulder. He whirled around and saw nothing. He was now positive that he was alone.

There was a loud boom and the world was falling. The mist started to sweep around his feet as everything got swallowed in a deep blackness. He plummeted...
- - - -

Slowly he came to. His first conscious thought was how his head hurt and his arms were sore. It was like waking up with a hangover after a fight. He slowly focused on his arms.

Cuts crisscrossed his forearms and  hands. Really deep cuts it turns out. The blood still slowly leaked out when he moved them and the skin shifted. Horror seized him. “Oh my God! Shannon!” he thought and looked around the room.

The room was chaos incarnate. A wild animal had torn through here. The furniture was overturned and there was blood and other liquids everywhere. The walls had impact marks from flying debris. The mirrors, cracked. “Where was Shannon?” he thought. He stood up and walked to the doorway, legs weak and arms hurting. He prepared himself for the worse.

He saw her in the hallway, laying there belly down. She didn’t look real. She looked like a mannequin that had been destroyed in a storm. Her limbs were twisted in impossible angles with broken bones jutting out like bloody spears. Her neck was craned around so she was looking up into the air. One of her eyes was a hollowed socked. Her mouth, frozen in a silent scream, a mouth which was missing most of its teeth. When he looked closer he could find a couple of teeth in her bloody matted hair. She wasn’t just dead. She was trampled. In her right hand she held a bloodied butcher knife.

His arms, he realized... the wounds on them from where she had tried to fight him off.

Now in his dim memory he could see her screaming as he hit her with clawed hands. He held his head trying to force the memories off. Why was he remembering this now? Every gory wound that he delivered as his anger reached a climax. Now he was kicking her prone body, feeling bone and tissue give way to fury.

He threw up again soiling himself and stumbled backwards. He fell against the wall and slid down slowly. A stifled sob escaping his mouth. He put his head in his hands and started crying, first quietly then hard and loud.

There was a loud and rapid series of knocks on the door. “Police! Open up!” came booming from behind the door with authority. “Open up now!”

John looked down the hallway past his ruined life towards the front door. His red eyes ached. He sensed a dark shape coming around a corner. It was Shuck. The dog was walking towards him in the gloom of the hallway. The sounds of the police trying to get in was lost to the click clack of the dogs nails on the floor. Shuck had something in his mouth.

It was John’s Smith and Wesson .357 revolver.

Shuck dropped the gun into Johns lap and sat there and licked his chops. He looked at John, the gun and then John again. John grabbed the gun and held it shakily. Shuck’s brown eyes were locked on Johns. John instead looked down the barrel.

The door exploded with a kick followed by careful footsteps. Shuck looked down the hallway and then back to John.

“Hell’s in the details...” Shuck said to John.

John’s mind now snapped. He giggled girlishly as he put the gun in his mouth.

“WAIT! STOP!” One of the officers yelled.

He pulled the trigger. It felt like a mule kicked him in the mouth. Blood exploded from his nose and mouth as the contents of his head emptied upwards all over the wall behind him. His eyes went dull as he fell over, gore draining from his mouth. The smoking blasted flower of his head fell limply sideways, smacking the floor with a slap.

- - - -

The grogginess this morning was like a sheen of milk in his eyes. His head feels like it’s filled with wet cotton. Tylenol PM last night? That stuff ALWAYS puts him under too deep, a deep sleep that’s always almost impossible to climb up out of. But sometimes you need to get a good nights sleep.

He looked over and saw his beautiful girlfriend in the bed next to him. She slept quietly and looked like a beautiful blond angel. John smiled and looked over and saw his furry pal Shuck, who was looking at John from the hallway, tail wagging with contentment.

No matter which way you slice it, life is perfect for John. The best of all possible worlds.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Gotta love people who steal your art


As an artist you come across people who just seem to have no regard for your abilities. People who will talk down to you to get a better rate. There are some people who won’t pay you for your work and just disappear into the woodwork. There are some people who will use your artwork on their Myspace or Facebook accounts or in some other web based forum. 
I’ve had to deal with all of the above and more often then not everything gets sorted out in the end. Sometimes I’m even cool with the people who made the mistake of co-opting my art and sometimes create possible business opportunities. 
And then there are those people who will just out and out steal from you. Who will print your stuff and just sell it like they own it or drew it themselves. People with zero regards for your properties and will be a complete dick towards you when you call them on the floor. 
This is a story of one such pile of shit. 
I woke on October 19th to an email from a friend of mine named Noah.
Just thought you’d like to know but someone is selling your art that they converted for themselves. Not sure if you want to do anything about it but here is the url incase you do.”
Here's the Link...

Sure enough, I opened up the link and was greeted with the following item for sale on Ebay.


Wow, I thought. That’s total outright thievery of a piece that I made for the Disney licensed Haunted Mansion comic book for Slave Labor Graphics. 


These people whose store is called fairytaleweddingstore needed to be stopped. These people have a huge buyers rating on Ebay. How long have they been doing this?

I shot out an email to these people. I kept it to the point and even gave them the benefit of the doubt.
This is D.W. Frydendall, the artist who's artwork this is that you're selling without my consent. Please remove it from your store immediately. I'm going to check back at 5:00pm and if it's not down I'm going to inform ebay and have you removed from their system entirely. I'm even considering on seeing how many you've sold and "politely" asking you for that money.
Pretty forward. I expected the ol’ “Sorry about that. I’ll remove it right away. Won’t happen again.”

Wrong...
No sweat! By the way does Disney know you did this? As you can see, no one is even interested in the design. No sales.
I felt a surge of fire shoot behind my eyes. Granted, I checked out the page and they had stopped the sale but they still had my art on their ebay store. But then they accuse me of stealing shit after they steal my artwork! Then they get their little dig in on me about no one is even interested in my artwork? I got really pissed and shot back.
First off... yes, I designed that for Slave Labor Graphics for their licensed Haunted Mansion Comic. Second, why don't you shove your little dig right up your fucking ass.
Now I probably shouldn’t have told them to shove anything up their fucking ass, but you know what? Fuck them! How much money have they made from my piece that I made? Disney and SLG pretty much owned the piece, but still... they’re using my likeness to line their grubby little pockets. 
I went and had some breakfast and called my friend Devon to get some perspective. She had always been a quieting influence in my life. I tend to fly off the hammer and want to murder anything in eye shot. I told her about what I’d done and she sighed. Typical D.W.

So when I got the following message from the Cake Farts, as I now call them, she talked me down from ideas of grim murder. 
Wow! You are one class act for sure! Go find a job you starving so called artist!
Hahahahaha! Sniff... seriously! So, with Devon walking me through the reply, making me not use such terms as “asshole, fuckhead, dipshit, fuckwit...” I shot back the following.
Just a heads up. Besides Ebay, I approached Disney legal who I'm in the employ of (some starving artist huh?) to review all of your content on your little store. Disney legal as you may or may not know doesn't take kindly to plagiarists. 
Also, rather or not I'm a starving artist isn't the issue. You stole and were selling my art for your personable profit. With people like you no wonder the term "Starving artists" was coined.
Don't contact me in the future. it won't go well.

So I never heard from them after that. Turns out they weren't that stupid. But I was far from finished. 
I found out that these dolts are up in Oregon. Oregon City to be exact. So I got their address and phone number. I then called my friend Huy. He lives up there and he can be one scary motherfucker when he wants to be. He’s an MMA fighter who has a mohawk and tats up and down his arms. 
He told me he’d check into it since he was going to be in Oregon City today. I didn’t know what he’d do. Odds are he’d do nothing, but maybe he’d just look at them sideways and make them piss their pants. Nothing ultimately happened due to the fact that their address was completely false. He got there and no such place exists. 
Oh well I thought. Next step... look at the other art on their Ebay page.
I found another artist named Daniel (website here) who’s arwork was being used as well. I shot him an email and he was totally cool.
Hello D.W!
Thank you for bringing this to my attention. It is surely not cool of them to profit from our work without our permission. 
Have you tried using ebay's 'Report item > Copyright violations'? That would probably put an end to their bad behavior.
Again, really, really cool of you to notify me as well!
So that’s two. I then got ahold of Ebay via chat message and laid out the entire thing. They assured me that they would take actions against these folks. They even at one point said "Seriously... they said that to you?" A yup. I told them.  

Next I called my friends at Disney and got their legal department. I plan to call them tomorrow first thing. 
I know... I could have just “let it go.” But you know what? They really pissed off me off and then were completely unrepentant.
I see how Cooks Source lifted a recipe from Monica Gaudio (here) and I get a warm feeling when the internet trolls come a callin’ on the guilty party and rain a wash of shit all over the not only guilty party, but the arrogant AND guilty party. 
Updates will be coming. Keep posted...



Monday, October 25, 2010

Monday, August 2, 2010

Favorite FAT CHICKS IN PARTY HATS images.

Thanks go out to Miguel and SeanBaby for the greatest site of all time, Fat Chicks in Party Hats.
Link
These are my favorite images from the consciousness expanding site.

My friend Tim and I used to see this guy all of the time at the comic con. He wore this Optimus Prime costume that was made with spraypainted cardboard boxes put together with duct tape and he stunk. I mean stttuuuunnnkkk. We came up with a ton of names for our new special friend in a box. Optimus Stink, Stinkor, but we ultimately settled with Stinky Robot. Cheers Stinky Robot. You rule all you survey from your robot vantage point of awesome.


Oh Miguel... you never cease to amaze with a laser keen eye for social satire and wit. Your Swiftian barbs keep me laughing and thinking... at the same time.


To contemplate the perfection of this piece is much akin to staring at the sun. You want to witness the universes wonders but you only just blind yourself instead.


They are indeed Lazer Force. They are... indeed.

Saturday, July 31, 2010

Sketch Saturday: Baine

Here's a pencil drawing I did of Baine.

Sketch Saturday: Lobo

Here's my sketch of one of my favorite characters from DC. He got kinda played him out but I don't care since I'm a huge fan of random extreme violence.

Sketch Saturday: Superman

In my attempt to do more sketches of stuff, I decided to draw a couple DC COMICS characters. This here is how I see Superman as looking.

Monday, July 19, 2010

Move Your Car - DJO

Here's more DJO for your Monday. Always great... always makes me laugh.


Tuesday, July 13, 2010

ASK BAINE: I have a den of junkies next door.

This is a new feature we're including on ODD BLATHERINGS where we ask Vincent Angus Baine to answer some of the more...uh... "esoteric" questions that we get asked. We'll see how long we can feature it before we get sued.
-----------------------------------------------------
By Vince Baine

You come home from work and there's a bunch of scabby faced people you've never seen before shuffling into the neighbors house like dopey zombies to do a handful of crappy drugs. The stereo is going at all hours next door to your bedroom window. The neighbors have been on another meth bender and have been up for two days straight arguing about who stole who's fix. You walk to your car in the morning and the smell of junkie piss on the side of the house stinks the joint up. You get to your car and your antenna, hub caps or anything else not bolted to the ground are missing.

Having a neighbor who's running a junkie flop house can be a huge drag.

Yeah, sure, it's sad when people have drug problems and all that... but you know what? Fuck 'em! You can cry me a river for the fact that they're victims too or some such namby-pamby bullshit, but now they're fuckin' with your house or apartment that you pay a fuck load of money for in rent or mortgage and not to mention the hard earned shit that you bust your ass to have that these shitheads will snake out from underneath you to sell for drugs. A serious junkie problem can really destroys your neighborhood like cancer from either the user themselves or the piles of human debris that float through now and then looking for free goods. There's nothing like coming home from a hard day of work and seeing that your plants have been stolen by some fuck up who needs a fix. Or waking up in the middle of the night as some scrawny weasel's trying to sneak through a window and into your house to rip you off (What you do at that point will be discussed in the next chapter. Don't miss it.)

Yeah, you can talk to the druggie in question, and that will get you only an addicts lies ("Never Trust a Junkie." Ministry: Just One Fix) so don't waste your time. You could just go over with a bat and break the place apart and bust of couple of the heads of some of those pukes, but yeah, the cops aren't cool with that and the rats will just scurry back and steal your shit while you're in the hoosegow doing time for assault. I know... gay. The system just doesn't seem to work out for the little guy.

Outside of brutalizing someone with a bat what's a Joe to do?

Buck up young fella. Here are some ideas that you can try!

MAKE IT THE LANDLORDS PROBLEM:
Is the asshole in question in your apartment complex? One thing you can do if so is tell your landlord or Apartment Manager about it. If they're not in your complex then tell their Manager about it. Tell them a couple of times and make a log of when you did, either with email or a certified letter. Now you've created a paper trail that shows that you've warned and warned them about the drug problem next door. Be sure to inform them that if anything happens to any of your property you are going to hold them  personally responsible from here on out due to their inaction. It's core, I know... but if it's at that point, then it's at that point. The Apartment Manager knows what's going on.

Super dick move:
After warning the Manager, take some of your shit and make it look like it was stolen then really put it to the Manager. Besides, who would believe what a junkie says? They'd probably just kick the trash to the curb.

MAKE IT THE DRUGGIES PROBLEM:

Another thing you can do is get a camera and a heavy and brutal household beat-up devise like a bat or a crowbar and walk out and take snapshots of license plates of cars that show up that you know are the visitors to the house who is using it as a dive. Druggies are cowards so they'll just bail rather then deal with the law and angry neighbors. If they're combative, then you have the blunt instrument. Under no circumstances are you to provoke a fight. If asked about what you're doing be to the point. "There's a lot of drug use at that house and I'm just keeping track of peoples comings and goings. If you're not doing anything bad then you've got nothing to fear." if they persist. "I'm now holding you personally responsible asshole for any theft or other problems in this neighborhood. It just takes one phone call to get your info..." and leave. Odds are they will too cause as I said, junkies are cowards...

MAKE IT EVERYONE'S PROBLEM:

The problem with the police is they're not just going to go smashing into a house on the off chance it's an illicit drug den full of ravenous meth fiends. This aint China Pal.  You can call the city's police departments crack tip line but most times they'll say there's nothing they can do but they'll send units by now and then to check it out. But you're a proactive cuss aint ya and you want this dealt with now. How do you get the cops really interested? We'll get to that. First thing you can do is make and post up flyers around the neighborhood with the words DRUG HOUSE at the top with the address. For extra "zing" take a picture of the house in question and put that on the flyer. Put at the bottom of the poster a number set delineating how many you've put up around the neighborhood. For example 3 of 12, 4 of 9, etc. You don't have to make all twelve, just two or three should work.

Super dick move: Here's what you can add to get under the skin of the local law enforcement in a "no holds barred" kinda way. Put on the poster DON'T WORRY, THE COPS DON'T CARE! Ohhhhhhh.... Nothing... and I repeat NOTHING pisses off a cop more then being told that they don't care about their community.

The junkies will find the posters or it will come to their attention in other ways. Do not tell anyone you did this. Not a soul. If it gets out you did this then you're gonna be the object of bullshit revenge tactics and the last thing you want to do is tangle with a bunch of strung out losers.

It will bring TOTAL attention to the house from everyone around the neighborhood. Everyone will now keep an eye on The DRUG HOUSE and the junkies probably will see the place as high risk. The cops will come by much more often and probably even check inside. You've now elevated your problem to be everyones problem.

You just want them gone. And with a little balls and a little effort you can get rid of 'em.


NOTE: Hey, what you do with this info is your business. Don't hold me responsible if you try anything I say and it goes south badly. That's your own damn fault.



VINCE BAINE is currently a private eye in Pasadena, Ca. He's served in the L.A.P.D. for 4 years but since had to resign. He served the Persian Gulf '90 as a Navy SEAL. You can find the album from his hardcore punk band "Wreckingball" on Amazon if it's still in print.

BAINE and all likenesses are COPYRIGHT © 2010 D.W. Frydendall.All Rights Reserved.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

The Human Torando will kick your ass.

 George Stiehl and I were sitting in Wok n’ Roll Friday night, eating sushi and drinking beer and unfiltered sake. We were having a great time getting drunk and checking out the groups of ladies who were out showing off their wears. After we left the restaurant we got a bottle of bourbon. I was buzzing with excitement. I had finally, at long last, got a copy of Rudy Ray Moore’s magnum opus “The Human Tornado”.

He will own you.

For those of you who don’t know who Rudy Ray Moore is, he’s a comedian who gained stardom with his first record “Eat Out More Often”. This allowed him to gain enough funds to make his first film “Dolemite”. This film had everything for greatness…violence, sex, dancing, and comedy. Needless to say it became a success. What more can you say about a movie with lines like “You insecure-born, rat soup eating, jock-jawed, motherfucker!” other then greatness is bound to ensue.

Moore made “The Human Tornado”, the sequel to “Dolemite” in 1976. According to Moore this film is his favorite movie. One can see why. The film opens with a party at Dolemite’s mansion. While his friends are having a good time (a young Ernie Hudson is in the film as one of Dolemite’s friends), Dolemite is screwing some white chick in his room. Well, in Dolemite’s world, if there’s a group of brothas and sistas having a good time, some crazy-ass, racist sheriffs going to show up and rain on the parade. But are you ready for this? The aforementioned white chick is the sheriff’s wife! “He made me do it!” she cries, in which Dolemite replies “Bitch, are you for real?” Insert shootout here. Dolemite is now on the run.

The film goes into overdrive from there. There are some scenes that make you both laugh your ass off and scratch your head. When he has sex with the villain’s wife, he literally destroys the room with his “sexational” abilities. He is after all the Human Tornada’! The fight scenes offer sped-up footage, and over dubbing that doesn’t sync to the footage. Moore’s main martial art form consists of him engaging the enemy while sporadically shaking his head back and forth, making a sound similar to when you get into a really cold bath tub (see the sample to the left).

Do your soul a favor and see this film. I watched this film 4 times in two days. Everyone who watched it wants to see the rest of his films. There is a power with this film that takes you on a magical ride into film-watching ecstasy. Scorsese? Spielberg? They can lick Rudy Ray Moore’s balls. My new goal is to see him live. Then I can die happy.

NOTE: I wrote this back in 2004... unfortunately Rudy Ray Moore died in October of 2008. I think we should all have 10 days of silence in remembrance of this great man.

WHY MAKING WEBSITES IS THE LAMEST JOB…EVER.

I've been making websites since 1995 and have quite a number of sites under my belt. I've worked on everything from corporate sites to artsy websites to cheap sites. I even made a porn site or two (Everyone who does sites has made a porn site. It's just the way things are on the web space), so I know a bit about the cause and function of web site building. So in knowing that, I'd like to say to all aspiring web developers…

Making websites is the lamest, most dead-end job ever!

The greatest single day of my creative life was retiring from the web business with MADCREATOR.COM being the last (and greatest) site I made. People would tell me “"But Darren! You're so good at it!"” I say thee “Phooey!” I'm outlining the reasons why web site creation and maintenance, in a word…sucks.

SUCKS.

On the echelon of the things that sucks about doing sites a bit is dealing with the client. The client never understands the technology that goes into website construction. Thus the changes come at a rapid pace. “"Oh, it's easy to fix this or that"” or “"But you LIKE doing websites" are two things that I heard all of the time. No no no! All dumb statements! And they make no attempt to understand the technology too boot! Most of the clients I had for site just became helpless babies who NEED you to help them out. Usually these are the mom and pop sites. I made websites for cash not for creative reward! Another thing that happens all of the time is when you visit a “possible”client, the client asks you a series of questions. There is always some Jackass who sits there and listens to how you do things. Then you never hear from the “possible” client. It turns out Jackass tells the boss that they have a nephew in school who can do the site much cheaper. Thus they take all of your ideas and funnel them to some puke with a copy of Dreamweaver, making a dinky website for 100 bucks with broken links and shoddy design. Also, payment for website deals is ALWAYS on the backburner. It's like the client can't feel or hold the website in a tangible sense, therefore, it doesn't seem real to them. Oh, they usually will pay everyone else off but you, the web designer. I’'ve had “professional” clients (including some of those corporate web people found working under the radar at the big “"D"” and Vivendi/Universal) are totally unprofessional. They don't return your calls in time and then rush things through at the last moment! Gah! So, the number 3 thing that sucks about websites…CLIENTS.

SUCKIER.

The technology for making websites is hinky at best. What works on one computer and browser won't work with another computer and browser. I always use the analogy of programming a VCR with tennis rackets attached to your fingers. FLASH sometimes gets corrupted and will mess up your file. Then you need to restart from scratch. Or there is some font problem with FLASH, or there is some sound issue, or there is some programming bug that can't get fixed, or...you get it? The shit doesn't work when you need it to. Getting PHP or PURL to work on your server is a headache because the server doesn't have APACHE so hey have to fix that, and it STILL won't work. The number two reason why site building sucks…TECHNOLOGY.

SUCKIEST.

The world of web development is like the Wild West. You have the maverick gunslingers (Designers) and the greedy land barons (Companies). I can't tell you how many companies have dorked me over. They've either reneged on a deal, stole my ideas or designs or stole my original art. These people suck! I can give you a couple of names of people who screwed me over. Like, for example, in 2002. We designed a website for Clay Lacy, only to have them steal the design and have some place called Red Wave Studios RECREATE the site verbatim. Thus weaseling my company out of 3000.00. THREE GRAND! That's it! The biggest private jet charter company in the U.S. screws three hard working guys out of three grand. I hate them. They lick balls. There are so many other instances of this type of behavior in the web world. When the web became popular in the 90's every piece of crap Hollywood wannabe came out of the woodwork to get a piece of the action. I'm not saying all, but a large number of them are “"Hollywoodcentric"” shysters who will screw you to your face. “"It's all business" they say, but come on… and have some class you evil assholes. So the number one reason why websites suck…THIEVING TALENTLESS HACKS WHO RIP YOU OFF.

There you have it. Go on young soldier and make those sites. But heed my warning...you will get boffed in the long run.

New DJO for today.

This just makes me laugh... haha! See?

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Remember... NEVER fuck with a psychic!

If you know me or know anything about me you know that I’m not afraid to tell you a story about dickheads I’ve dealt with in my long, illustrious life and career and put it in clear, concise colorful phrasing. If it stinks odds are I’ll call it an asshole.

Recently I was reading a story online about how “The 9th Circuit refused to resurrect the claims of a parapsychologist and a publicist who accused NBC Universal of swiping their idea for a reality show featuring paranormal investigators. The alleged copycat show is "Ghost Hunters" on the Syfy Channel.” Here’s the link. The people in question who sued SyFy are in my opinion two complete con-men (or people) named “Dr.” Larry Montz and Daena Smoller. I had the misfortune of crossing paths with these human shaped hemorrhoids in the early “oughts” and let me tell you, they’re complete trolls and whenever they fail, my step gets lighter, I smile, a bell sounds, and a small little angel gets their wings.

 I had a company named Manifest Industries and we made websites (Weee!) and the other two guys who were in this company with me and our girlfriends at the time went on a “ghost hunt” at the Vogue theater in Los Angeles that Montz and Smoller ran. We spoke to them afterwards and we were going to make them a website. The scope of the details of our agreement are long gone, maybe it was to meet their entertainment agents, which is hilarious looking back. Boy were we dumb!

We made them their site. Time went on and one day our server went down so I get this super angry call from this Larry guy. He’s completely furious since he hasn’t been able to get through to the other guys I worked with (who at that time had gotten tired of his pushy bullshit and just didn’t want to deal with him anymore) and he thinks we’re messing around with him or just being dicks. I don’t know. He was just pissed.  He was a totally pushy prick who would boast about suing people at the drop of a hat. So, yay me, he calls me and he's yellinglike a fucking lunatic, calling us names and threatens me with perhaps the single most impossibly retarded thing I’ve ever heard in my life.

“Do you know who you’re fucking with? I’m a psychic and you never want to fuck with a psychic!”

I had to stifle a laugh. In my head I imagined a detailed and brutal scene of murder and carnage where I was cutting this fools head off with a dull handsaw. In this daydream I was covered in his blood, all the while smiling as he quits twitching. If this dolt’s a psychic, I thought, I might as well see if he gets this image. I was hoping, PRAYING that he was a psychic, and that the gore flooding my head detailing this bald fucks brutal demise at my hands would end his diatribe stone cold. Look in my head you psychic fuck bag, see who you should never fuck with...

He was such a complete fuck-head that we just gave him the site so they would just go away. We got some really angry emails from him and this Deana broad detailing about how we were assholes all and they eventually just went away.

Now and them I come across their names on the interwebs, usually it’s on skeptic websites like SWINDLE (quite apt), The Amazing Randi’s site, and finally this news page (I can't mention this enough) detailing their newest failure.

So here’s to the good “doctor” and his “publicist”. And remember... NEVER fuck with a psychic!

Hahahaha!!! Fucking douchebag...

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

My Gunfighter art turns up in the craziest of places...

About a thousand years ago I made an image that was used in a book called Ghost Towns that had an image of a Skeletal Gunfighter.


Since drawing this image I've made it into shirts and prints and other such stuff. It's one of the images that people seem to gravitate to and it's the most requested design for shirts as well as getting variations done graphically for law enforcement and fire-fighters.

I've also seen it in the strangest places. Places I would never expect.Poop your pants places...

For example, a friend of mine Bob emailed me and told me that he'd seen this piece in a movie about poker. So I checked it out and send it to my friend Bill Shafer who's got a hungry mad-on for Poker. He got back to me quickly.

"Do you play poker?" he asked me.
"No, not really? Does Intellivision count with the little yellow guy?"
"That guy wearing your shirt is my favorite player of all time Phil Laak! They call him the Unibomber! Holy shit!"
Cue Bills complete "shit-out"...

Phil Laak

This made me happy like some douchey schoolkid. I learned more about this guy and realized that the guy rules. A) His nickname is The Unibomber for jumping fucks sakes and anyone named after criminals is cool. Small fact: My nickname in high-school was John Capone Hitler Dahmer. B) He makes his living gambling. How much of an extreme bad ass can you be if that's your career? Kenny Rodgers don't have shit on this guy. Poolhustlers, gamblers and con-men...you need balls of titanium to be either. C) His partner who he's also going out with Jennifer Tilly. Jennifer Tilly from Bride of Fucking Chucky!
 
Phil Laak's Girlfriend Jennifer Tilly. She...uh...plays poker too...

I'm honored to have this gentleman be in a picture, on the web, wearing a design I did.

And then...

I had another friend of mine named Johnny call me up during my 21 Jump Street re-runs (Booker's a good cop damnit!) and tell me that he saw my gunfighter on a show on the National Geographic Channel. Cool, I thought... maybe some Ugandan Tribesman has it on a shirt or something.

Nope... it was from a show called "American Gangs" and it was a tattoo on some guy in a Texas Prison who's in the Aryan Nation.

Some guy in a Texas Prison. This is his arm. It's probably committed some kinda crime.

And I gotta tell you, I got kind of a kick out of this too. Granted the guys in prison and he's all about the White Power and all of that kind of goofy shit. But to me it was kind of a badge that there are some crazy, scary, and psychotic motherfuckers out there who like my art and are willing to get it blasted into their skin who would probably back me up in a bar fight. 

And isn't that why we get into doing art in the first place?

Ritardo and Happy in Paraguay

I was recently watching a batch of videos from Day Job Orchistra on Youtube and after the first thirty minutes I realized that I would like to have some kind of neurological disorder that would allow me to experience the world in this way. Please enjoy!



Review for Season 1 of Masters of Horror

Hey you horror nuts, I just got done watching all of the aired Masters Of Horror T.V. series on Showtime. Last year Spooky Dan, Mr. Disgusting and I were all chomping at the bit thrilling to see what Mick Garris and friends had up their collective sleeves while we were throwing down booze at the Fango con. Which Director would deliver the gory goods? Which one would serve up a whopping plate of stinky ass? Will there be tits? What will Showtime allow?
Well ya freaks...here's my two cents worth broken down into each episode. If you don't agree with me that's fine, email Spooky Dan and tell him what you think. If you're looking for thesis material, sorry, no intelligence here folks. And I'll probably get my ass roasted on the bulletin boards by "HOBBIT_HORROR_DUDE0021" and "JADED_HORROR_GEEK" but I don't care.

 
INCIDENT ON AND OFF A MOUNTAIN ROAD: Directed by Don Coscarelli
A pretty good episode. Neither great nor assy. The story was written by Joe Lansdale, an amazing writer who writes very graphic horror. The story deals with a hot chick (Bree Embry) being terrorized by a guy named Moonface who likes like a bald albino with metal teeth and vampire makeup from any ol' episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. He has this fun hobby of drilling peoples eyes out and making them into scarecrows, which equals family fun viewing! The thing I liked about this episode is how the main heroine turns out to be one hulluva badass. It was a blast to see Ethan Embry who played Rusty in Vegas Vacation play a survivalist butt-humper.

DREAMS IN THE WITCH-HOUSE: Directed by Stuart Gordon
H.P. Lovecraft rules all. I've read all of his stuff. I don't care if he was a racist who wrote in really, really long prose. The shit he came up with in the 20's smoked. And any schmuck knows Stuart Gordon did Re-Animator, easily one of the most "holy shit they did not do that!" zombie movies ever. The story revolves around a college student who rents a shithole room in a spook house that glows trippy colors and manifests an evil Witchy Poo and her little human headed rat. Is it a dream? C'mon...you should know better by now. This episode has the Gordon/Lovecraft sensibilities intact. Trippy lighting, naked chicks, blood in the gallons and a fucked up ending. I also liked the rat guy...OK, I know a ton of people who hated it, but it's cheapness reminded me of the good ol' days of Full Moon Productions. And it's tons better then some overly animated C.G.I. creature.

 
DANCE OF THE DEAD: Directed by Tobe Hooper
Remember how I mentioned the term "assy"? Well, this episode just plain ate it in my not too humble opinion. The story takes place after the nuclear holocaust (funny...it looked like large clumps of ash falling from the sky that make you burn up) where dead girls are loaded up on a drug and "dance" (actually more like jerk spasmodically) on stage at The Doom Room while Robert Englund plays an MC who hams it the fuck up and out of the park. "Why do you hate this one, D?" you ask? Mainly the horrible editing technique where they have double, triple and sometimes quadruple exposures flopping around the screen at the same time coupled with shotgun editing that gives me a total migraine. The other thing that made this almost too much to watch was the fat black haired guy who tried to act like Jack Black only to be a completely annoying asswipe. I wanted to kill this bastard in EVERY frame of film he was in. There's the mom who's just way too shitty so you know bad shit'll befall her soon enough. I can see how this episode would have relevant social commentary, but I just couldn't get past these issues to notice.

 
JENIFER: Directed by Dario Argento
Dario Goddamn Argento! This episode was from Bruce Jones and Berni Wrightson's friggin' super-duper rock-your-ass-off comic. As a kid this comic scared the crap outta me, so when I saw that Dario was directing it I nearly peed my clown suit! Steven Weber plays a cop who rescues Jenifer, a mute chick with a rocking body and a face like a morlock that's mostly naked through the entire episode. As with the rest of this series shit goes haywire when Weber brings that kinky deaf chick home. This one has it all...two kids are eaten. Not off camera mind you...on screen graphically! In full empty stomach cavity glory! It has tons and tons of nudity and even has sodomy! Hooray!

 
CHOCOLATE: Directed by Mick Garris
Speaking of sodomy...I thought this show was called Masters of Horror? This episode was less Masters of Horror and more Twilight Zone. It's about Henry Thomas (Elll-eeeeot... from E.T.) who tests artificial food flavors for a living who starts having flashes of a strange woman's life. He sees, hears, smells, and even feels the woman's experiences, including...you guessed it...sex and murder! The best part of this episode is when Thomas is in bed with some new girlfriend and starts to have his outer body experience of the woman who's life he's been experiencing, only now she's bumpin' uglies with her rasta boyfriend and ol' Thomas starts to trip out and "do the motions", thus freaking out his new lady. Add to this odd scene his ex-wife showing up with kid in tow and you've got the makings for some spicy comedy. There's only one really horrific moment in this but it's too CG to be scary. Oh well...there's always the nudity.

 
HOMECOMING: Directed by Joe Dante
I really liked this one. Whereas Dance of the Dead had social commentary (huh?), this one has social commentary that's as subtle as a brick in the head. This one has the zombies of soldiers from Iraq coming back from the dead? OK...I'm with you so far. Zombie soldiers from Iraq coming back from the dead to vote Bush out of office?!? Get out! That's just too rad! The zombies are actually the good guys in this one! The bad guys are Republican scumbags who lack any morals or compassion. This one takes a shot at Ann Coulter, cable news shows, the spin-room, the Christian right (which is neither...sorry...I saw the bumper sticker yesterday), Rumsfeld and all of those loveable fuckers in our Gov'ment. This episode even has one of the most touching and heartwarming moments you'll ever see with a zombie soldier, a dog, and a couple who own a small diner. Sniff...

 
DEER WOMAN: Directed by John Landis
Wow! Spooky Dan and Jovanka from Rue-Morgue REALLY hated this one!!! I got it from them both one night about just how bad this one was (we were on our way to do some serious ''mon it was Christmas)! And I quote Spooky Dan "Even the rad tits in this episode couldn't save it from being really shitty!" Said tits belong to Cinthia Moura, who plays Deer Woman. Who, with her deerlike powers, fights a never ending battle for truth and justice! OK...actually she pounds guys into hamburger when they see her deer like hooves. The tagline for this episode should have been "Keep looking at the tits! Dear God! KEEP LOOKING AT THE TITS!!!" The episode could have been an episode of The X-Files. Brian Benben (Or Ben Brianbrian as I call him) plays Mulder and Anthony Griffith plays a tall male, black Scully. The only thing differentiating it from X-Files are those titties...those magnificent titties. I know...you're sick of hearing that word...but...TITTIES, TITTIES, TITTIES, TITTIES !!!

 
CIGARETTE BURNS: Directed by John Carpenter
This episode is a small masterpiece and easily the best in show! Give Mr. Caprenter a prize 'cause this one is a nihilistic freakout about a movie that makes people go insane. Not a good insane mind you, like when people watched "Jackass: the Movie", but a psychotic murderous kinda insane (like when I saw "Cabin Fever"...I coulda killed Eli Roth!). So Norman Reedus (who's one of the brothers in The Boondock Saints, the only movie to watch during St. Patrick's Day) is hired by always creepy but loveable Udo Kier to find it. Cue really, really weird shit! Cue the best decapitation in television history! Cue Udo's unfortunate gut-mating with a film projector! This one is amazing!

 
FAIR HAIRED CHILD: Directed by William Malone
Remember Lori Petty? She rocked in "Booker" and "Tank Girl". No...YES SHE DID! QUIET! Ok...she's in this ep about a cute 13 year old girl who's kidnapped and taken to a house to live with a nice couple and their pleasant son and live happily ever after. No...scratch that...OK...she's kidnapped by a tweaked couple to be fed to their pleasant son and then live happily ever after. There...got it. Actually this one has a creature that was really creepy. It reminded me of Tom Savini's "Lizzy" creature from the "Tales From The Dark Side" episode "Inside the Closet". This episode has all of the William Malone camera tricks that jar you out of your head. All in all an enjoyable episode.

 
PICK ME UP: Directed by Larry Cohen
Two serial killers go head to head in this episode. In one corner you have a truck driver who picks up people and kills them who reminded me of an evil Archie Bunker. In the other corner you have a guy who hitchhikes and kills people who reminds me of Matt Damon with a snake on his hat. In the middle you have Fairuza Balk who looks like she can bite both of the serial killer guys to death with her big chompers. This isn't a really bad episode...it's just kinda there. The scariest thing in the one is the blonde woman who leaves with the truck driver in the beginning. I thought she was going to be some evil creature with some badass special effect makeup. Turns out she just had really bad plastic surgery. I mean really bad plastic surgery. If she has a pubic goatee I wouldn't have been surprised.

 
HAECKEL'S TALE: Directed by John McNaughton
This episode is a doozy. I was watching the opening credits when I read "Screenplay by Mick Garris" and I remembered his "Chocolate" episode and shuddered a bit. What's this one going to be about? The dangers of cooking? Then the credits said "From a Story by Clive Barker" and I sat up and said..."OK...now I'm listening..." This episode starts with a guy riding a horse up to a the shack of an old lady who's a necromancer. He wants to raise his recently deceased wife. So said old lady necromancer tells him a tale...that's right, about some joe named Haeckel. Haeckel has a sidekick named Jaeckel and they fly around and taunt people because they're magpies....wait...that's the cartoon. Sorry. Haeckel is training to be a scientist. He even tries to raise the body of a hot redhead ala Frankenstein with Kentucky fried results. He gets word that his Pappy's sick so he goes to visit. On the way he stops to rest and a nice guy lets him stay at his house. Nice guy has a really smoking hot wife. Nice guy tells Haekel that no matter what he hears, he cannot go outside. So Haeckel, much to my pleasure, disobeys this instruction. He finds hot wifey in the cemetery with zombies...giving it to them hard and nasty on a slab! Hot damn! Thanks Clive! You never disappoint!!! Let me tell you...Leela Savasta who plays the hot wife really could make the dead stretch their bacon. Note: So far in this series is how they get really hot women to get naked. If I had a mutant power I pray to god that it would be that one.

 
SICK GIRL: Directed by Lucky McKee
Ooooohhhhhhhh man... I loved "May". Angela Bettis really made that film. If you're a total freak all weirdo like me you can't help but be empathic towards her in that film. After that film I developed a bit of a crush on Angela, and Angela...if you're reading this...don't think that I'm gonna stalk you or something. My previous arrest record makes it impossible for me to do that now. So when I saw that she was going to be in an episode of MOH I was excited. Then I saw that Erin Brown AKA Misty Mundae was going to be in that episode as well, in a lesbian story no less! Thus making me as excited as a wee puppy with a crayon. Remember my previous arrest record? Well screw that! For Erin AKA Misty I'd eat my own feet and run a marathon. OK...this has gotten really creepy...sorry gentle reader, forgive my exuberance. It's the diet pills talking. So Misty gets bitten by a big ugly bug and becomes Spiderbabe....goddamnit! wrong movie! No...she just becomes a werebug in really bad makeup and eats a couple of people. Sorry Angela and Erin...this episode wasn't that good. The story was mediocre and lacked any sophistication (Yeah, like this stupid review is sophisticated), It's totally telegraphed. The characters who are assholes are the ones you know are going to be Erin chow. Also the dialog is really stilted and weak and...gulp...boring. I did like how Erin is all-innocent at first and becomes really, really nasty later in the episode. Hopefully Lucky McKee will do a better job in upcoming projects. I don't want his resume to be a one hit wonder.

 
IMPRINT: Directed by Takashi Miike
And last but far, far from least is the episode that Showtime didn't air. I could just see the reaction when the episode was received to air.

 
Guy 1: "Hey, here's the episode from that Japanese guy Takishi Mike..."
Guy 2: "Nawww...you got it all wrong...It's not Mike...it's Miike...with two i's."
Guy 1: "Ok...whatever...let's watch it..."
Guy 2: "Lemme put it in the dvd player here..."
Twenty minutes later...
Guy 1: "..."
Guy 2: "What...the...fuck?!?"
First, Miike is one of my favorite directors in the world. This man never ceases to shock me. So I waited patiently for this episode. When I had heard he was involved in the series it got a lot more credibility with me as far as being really "horror".
Very few societies are as twisted as the Japanese (girls' underwear vending machines? Naughty tentacles? Yeah, I thought so...), and very few people can film to that level of twisted ness as Miike. I was hoping he would burn some American retinas with his entry in the show.
And boy! Whoo hoooo! He doesn't disappoint!
All of Miike's cinematic thumbprints are here! Incest, rape, torture, fetuses, urine, strange things coming out of peoples bodies, strange things going into peoples bodies...everything!
Youki Kudoh plays a deformed prostitute who spends the episode telling Billy Drago about the death of the woman he loved who too was a prostitute. The tale goes from odd, to strange, to deranged, to finally fucking craklin' cannonball goo-goo apeshit.
The acting is otherworldly. The Japanese cast doing English makes everything even creepier and alien. And then you have Billy Drago, who acts just as creepy and alien as the rest of the cast. The pacing and style of the acting reminds me of a David Lynch film...but just mush more hard core with more dead babies.
So if you're a gentle soul, don't watch this one. If you do watch, expect such things as turn of the century Japanese abortion techniques, putting needles under fingernails in graphic close up, hands erupting from heads and talking, a young girl getting felt up by a Buddhist monk, tons of abuse towards women, and the grand finale...a bucket full of aborted fetus chum that Billy Drago sings to sleep! Fuck yeah!
All in all, I have to say that Masters of Horror season 1 was some good watching. Even the drek was fun to watch. Can't wait to see what they have planned for next season. I'm kinda bummed that the Ewe Boll rumor was fake...that would have been a blast.
Until next season you sick bastards!!!