Chasing the Fairy #9

By: Gus  Victoria

A bird of a feather lost

On the path taken most

To a confession given freely

To him that asked.

A stranger hidden

From the truth given

On an empty plain

To sit on a barren pedestal

Of marble cold.

An inscription of gold

And the silken glance

Of the admiring youth

Give honor

Where ignorance is due.

Lack is surplus

When we worship

The lost empty space

Of unknown faithless frivolity.

God is greater than god

For man is more than men.

And woman mother of both. 

Jesus, Santa Claus, and Thoreau.

By: Gus Victoria

The comparisons to Jesus and Santa have been made before and not all are nice. In fact there are more than a few books and websites that do nothing but expound upon the similarities of Santa to Satan and his usurping of Christ’s role in the world particularly at Christmas time.

But what does a 19^th century American essayist/philosopher/rebel have to do with either of them? The truth is, depending on your personal beliefs, nothing or everything. Contrary to popular belief I hold a degree in Religion. It is a degree that, though I enjoyed earning, means very little in the “real world.” I do not regret my decision in pursuing such a degree and I only make mention of it because I can’t help but notice that many of my friends that studied alongside me have all followed paths much different than my own.  That is not to say I am alone in my beliefs, not at all. Simply that the community that I was part of whether through similarities of study, interest, disposition, or even convenience I no longer feel a part of. There is a restlessness of spirit that no amount of study of scripture was able to fix and which has at least in my private thoughts ostracized me from that community. Yet, there is no mourning on my part. Rather I feel as a prisoner let free from the confines of a prison. I have a newfound freedom that neither study nor experience has fully prepared me for.

Yes, I know, as Socrates once said “I know that I know nothing.” Without getting into Greek semantics and syntax I first acknowledge that I do not possess all the knowledge that would allow me comfortably to make all the right decisions every single time. Also I am honest enough to say that even at times that I do have the required knowledge to make the right choice I may, for whatever reason, choose not to. This is I believe my right as a human to be able to choose. However it is my duty as a neighbor living amongst others and in a world that I share with others to choose to do right.

Now again, what does Thoreau have to do with this? And Jesus and Santa for that matter? To me Thoreau stands as a rare ideal. Not in that his beliefs are mine though yes some of them are. What I see in Thoreau that I do not see in Jesus is freedom. I don’t mean to blaspheme here…or perhaps I do. I haven’t quite decided. Jesus; those teachings of his that are transmitted down to us are what I cherish and value. Yes I admit even those can never be fully accepted either without some amount of faith. Yet, even if those teachings are myth attributed to legend they are still very valuable and instructive. And were we still to assume that the Jesus in the scriptures is the real Jesus it is not hard to find many places where he has been taken up as an icon and idol to be worshiped blindly with little regard, if any, to his actual teachings. We seek salvation through gestures and prescribed readings while the evil in the world festers through indifference and a lack of courage to act.

Santa is an even more perfect example though perhaps not as devastating as the empty Jesus. Here is a figure that represents all the good we would like to see in the world manifested precisely in the manner by which we prevent that good from being fully realized. The commercialism is a problem yes that distracts us from doing good unto others. However the general atmosphere does have the ancillary effect of promoting a spirit of goodwill that one finds less common in the general population on a daily basis outside of the season. The real problem I believe lies at the fact that it is the material goods that keep us from attaining that full awareness of the other. We do enough to appease our conscience and little more. What happens when the trees are taken down, the toys forgotten, the lights put away? Is Santa that figure that promotes the good we are capable of beyond the season in ways beyond the material? Is he a leader or a myth we create and expand upon because it makes us feel good? Or does he represent more.

Both the modern Jesus and Santa are to me of little import when discussing matters of good and evil simply because they are constructs of a society created to serve that society not the other way around. I am not saying that we should open a church of Santa (as funny as that sounds to me). Nor am I saying that to enjoy our traditions makes us an outright agent of evil. But it is very easy to get distracted and forget what is really important.

And that leads me back to Thoreau. I don’t know what is really important and I am one of the biggest fans of our current Christmas season; to such a degree that I have been playing Harry for the Holidays since mid-September.  Is that normal? Probably not. What I find appealing about Thoreau and others like him is the rebellious nature. He questions as easily as he breathes, and I suspect that to him it is just as necessary to existence. I love the freedom of thought, to challenge an idea and not fight against the friction created by the reproach of centuries of orthodoxy. The God I choose to believe in does not look down on this freedom of thought, but rather encourages it. How can we better understand his greatness if we are not allowed to discover all that we don’t know?

Santa Claus Conquers the Martians

I would have finished this review earlier but Voldar was keeping me hostage in a cave.

By: Gus Victoria

Title: Santa Claus Conquers the Martians

Year: 1964

Director: Nicholas Webster

Writer: Glenville Mareth (based on a story by Paul L. Jacobson)

Cast: John Call, Leonard Hicks, Vincent Beck, Bill McCutcheon…

Plot

Something is wrong with the Martian children. They don’t eat, aren’t sleeping well and seem to be obsessed with TV programs from Earth. Kimar, the leader of the Martian people, notices this change in his own children; Bomar and Girmar. Gathering a council he proceeds to seek advice from the wise sage Chochem. This has long been coming he says. The Martian children have no childhood. They are fed a “constant stream of information” from the moment they are born. They don’t know what it is to play and be children.

Kimar decides the best way to help the children of Mars is to kidnap Santa Claus from Earth and put him to work on Mars making toys for all the Martian boys and girls. So in short order they arrive on earth only to find many Santas!! They then come across two children, Billy and Betty, who explain to the confused Martians that all those Santas were simply his helpers and the real Santa is found at the North Pole. Kidnapping Billy and Betty they then make their way to Santa’s workshop where they capture Santa and take him, along with the Earth children, back to Mars.

On Mars Kimar has provided Santa with a high-tech fully automated workshop. He seems to be a real hit with the girls and boys of Mars and Kimar’s plan is working perfectly except for two things. The earthlings miss home and another Martian named Voldar has been against the plan the whole time and actively seeks to sabotage the workshop and send Santa back to Earth. Voldar is foiled by Santa and the chidren, but Santa is still sent home with the earth children after Kimar’s bumbling yet friendly servant Dropo becomes Mars’ own version of Santa Claus.

Review

The real mystery behind this gem of a film is why I hadn’t seen it earlier. This really should be a Christmas classic! The premise is weak, the script even weaker and the production quality matches both in feebleness. However the acting, though far from great, is not as terrible as other WTF films. Santa Claus, Kimar, Voldmar, and Dropo all deliver decent if not stellar performances. The charm of this film I think is its apparent innocence and lack of pretense. It is a low-budget Christmas film about aliens from Mars and it does not pretend to be anything else.

 Missed jokes and poor comedic timing just make this movie funnier. This movie reminded me of a later sci-fi film, Planet of the Vampires, of course not as good and without the Christmas theme.

Perhaps two of the best bits about this movie were the props and the unforgettable theme song. The Martian “stun guns” are nothing more than painted Wham-O Air Blasters and I get a nice laugh every time I see them used against Santa’s elf helpers. The theme song of course is the epitome of bad 60’s pop cheese. And boy is it catchy.

This movie is highly recommended. Perhaps it does not benefit from the quality of other Christmastime films but it is no less enjoyable if taken for what it is. A bad sci-fi Christmas movie! That genre unfortunately is not as large as it should be!

Sorry John It Took So Long, But I'm a Dreamer Now

By: Gus Victoria

Religion. It looks like a dirty word doesn’t it? To me it is. It carries with it the combined baggage of our collective human existence, its origin predating the very foundations of culture. This article does not begin there. Rather the genesis of this particular rant is found years ago in one particular song; Imagine by John Lennon. For so long I had spurned this song as a soulless heathen daydream. How can one imagine let alone wish for a world without religion. Friends and family adored this song and I resisted. I was at the time a self-styled intellectual with deep spiritual roots and happy in my conservative Catholic tradition. I saw a world so different than what was ideal, but a world where religion was crucial as a means to bring back that ideal and create a better world. Imagine was a childish fantasy I wanted no part of. And then I grew up.

Years of study and living has led me to see the best and worst that religion has to offer. I could assign the bad to Satan and credit the good to God. A younger me probably would have. An angry, equally foolish me would have reversed it ironically.  I choose to do neither, because those two figures have nothing to do with it. Every action, good or bad, began as a choice. Religion is a mask we use to protect us from the truths of the world. The best and worst that religion can offer is also the best and worst that humanity can offer.

It is easy to condemn religion as an opiate or a panacea for the weak. It would be hard to argue the hate that has originated from all religions despite the message of love they all seem to convey. However it would be equally hard to deny the power of love and justice that religions all over the world throughout time have championed. The cycle of hate must not be allowed to carry on by condemning believers, nor must the cycle of love be allowed to end through a difference of belief.

Just imagine it; a world without religion and without nations. The differences of mankind would no longer divide. These are not the words of a foolish man. They are the words of a person that understands we are one. Now I understand that song. I am a dreamer. Are you?

Happy Birthday Werner...and Walt.

Today is an important day for a lot of my friends and coworkers and indeed millions of others around the world. You see 110 years ago one Walter Elias Disney was born. And today more than any other day I feel like Ebenezer Scrooge; a person that seemed to simply miss the point of the day. However unlike Scrooge I will not be visited by spirits of past, present, and future Disney to show me what this celebration is really all about. Furthermore I would not want to be. Disney was a man and he left a company. That is it. Nothing more. So many others seem almost to deify him, and frankly it is sickening. What makes him so worthy of cult-like adulation?  

He was an innovator! Well so was Wozniak and Tesla.

He was a visionary! Ghandi and King Jr. had grander dreams.

Well he created Disneyland! To those that visited the 1893 World’s Faire that was far more impressive in all aspects even if not permanent.

I’m not here to bash Disney. There are more than enough places where that is the case. Each of those things above are true, he created, innovated, dreamt, and made those dreams reality. That is rare in a person and worthy of admiration. However it seems that it is much more than admiration what I witness. Yes, I live in one of two ground zeros for that sentiment. So I perhaps am unfairly critical because of my constant contact with this blind love. I’ll give you that. It doesn’t change how I feel though that this admiration borders on fanatical devotion to one man. A man to whom has been attributed much more than what he actually did and no notice paid to any of his own personal faults. Faults that in today’s society would have him become a social pariah in moments. Or perhaps not, Disney was as much shaped by his time as he did shape it.

Walt Disney left an indelible imprint on American culture and entertainment and his influence is hard to overstate.  However he is not a myth, he was just another successful director/producer/studio head with a much better reputation than most. Seems the man my friends celebrate today was too good to have lived. Is this how heroes are born? Someone quote Joseph Campbell please!

There are theories as to why he receives such an inordinate amount of love, but I will save that for another post. I leave you friends with birthday wishes to TWO men I admire (but do not idolize) with utmost certainty: Happy Birthday Walt Disney and Werner Heisenberg!

Werner Heisenberg...I'm pretty certain

Walt Disney

Chasing the Fairy #8

A slave to the night

Is gone with first light.

The bonds of darkness

Banished by the dawn,

She a harsh mistress

Jealous of the mystery given,

Hidden by that cloak of stars

That she in envy despises,

Oh that night were eternal,

Boundless joy for this nocturnal!

But the Sun must on its path tread

Burning the night away

For the sake of his sister

Who weakly, feebly makes the night

Her rival,

Dawn, for your survival,

The Morning slays the night.

Jesus Saves! Cthulhu Raves!

So Jesus wanted to RAVE not SAVE!?! Ohhh I get it now...someone pass me a glowstick I'm about to have a religious experience! Christianity seems to me sometimes to be little more than a 2,000 year old game of Telephone.

Listen if Jesus were a super skilled ripped lifeguard that could swim in a triathlon and still knock out a shark at the end of the day and I happened to also be drowning in the deep end of the pool because I didn’t wait 30 minutes after my massive meatball sub and a swarm of piranhas that someone released was about to turn me into a nice biology class prop then yes, oh please yes I would need to be saved! However since that doesn’t usually happen, perhaps because most of those details were based on myth, fiction and outright lies I think it is safe to say I’m not in constant danger or need of “saving.” That question has always bothered the hell out of me, which is actually an ironic statement when you think about it since its hell that I am trying to be “saved” from. 

Hey Mr. Christian apologetic have you read that handy dandy book you have in your hand? Can you tell me why you pick and choose what to believe in and how hard? Perhaps animal sacrifice isn’t so cool anymore, but why do you still get a hard-on when talking about the end of the world complete with oceans of blood and mountains of (human) dead? Oh its cool you say, that if I believe then God will save me from that awful fate? Well Mr. Christian apologist I have two words for you…fuck off! Ok not really, I won’t actually say that to you. I’ll probably say something more like “good to know, thanks!” Make no doubt I’m thinking “fuck off!” If God is like the one you describe in your book, especially with all that apocalypse shit all I can say is: What. A. Dick! I’d rather play cards with the devil even if he is a bastard and a cheater. At least he wouldn’t be as cold-blooded a douche as THAT God that decides on a whim to end the world in a tidal wave of blood, fire, and destruction.

Cthulhu-Jesus reigns, saves AND raves.

Now here I seem like a crazy atheist that condemns hate as he himself hates. Au contraire mon ami, you see I believe in God with all my heart and soul. I believe He is real and He is the creator of the universe. The entire universe mind you, not just this tiny planet. He is so much more than I can ever even attempt to quantify. So I don’t. He is. I am not He. That’s all I need to know. Morality comes from the heart and love which I also believe is a manifestation of the divine will. Why else do we universally believe it is wrong to murder?

Love to me is the underpinning of Christianity and indeed any religion. Yes there is also a need and desire to understand the world, but love is the binding and driving force. Which is why one of the things that most angers me in this world is the use of love as a justification for doing the exact opposite.

“I love you therefore I hate.”

Today a friend of mine was unfriended on Facebook by someone saying that though they loved him they did not agree with his lifestyle. He is a gay man in a relationship healthier than perhaps 95% of any straight couple I know. Many of us were angered and a good deal of us laughed when we heard. It made me think. What God of love and wisdom would condemn love? I came to the conclusion that the exclusionary message of condemnation and hate is not only contrary to the spirit of the gospels, but also incompatible with a just and loving God. If the Deity is so far above me in wisdom, knowledge, and capacity to love, why then am I able to grasp that two people in love is to be lauded and not shunned? If this poor uneducated monkey understands this why not then the master of the universe?

So of course the problem is not with God but rather with how some people view God. When the Lord of Hosts is on your side you can justify anything, right? Well I tell you what, I’d like to believe in a God that chooses right and is not as petty and homophobic as others make him out to be. Think about that for a moment. It as if God made a purple polka dot elephant and then proceeded to hate it simply because it was not like the other elephants. Really? That God is not only petty; he’s also stupid and retarded. I like to give the big guy just a wee bit more credit.

There are those that tell me to read the Bible, that the word of God is eternal and binding. Perhaps I love circular logic as much as the next guy, but to them I ask, where in that Bible will I find dinosaurs? More on THAT later…

(Originally posted March 8 , 2011)

The Artist's Captor

By: Gus Victoria

Unseen lyrics and unheard melodies

Skitter across the shattered expanse

Of a bewildered mind

Wild with emotion

Lost in thoughts

Crowded with devotions

To ideal and art

Beyond the eye it cannot see

Beyond its own it cannot be

For the mind is decayed

Drunk on its own imagination

The ink yet flows from the pen

And the paint from the brush.

At what cost creation I ask,

At what cost the destructive forces

That in a hurricane build

And in a gentle breeze demolish

The incipient sanity of the artist

That from his mind has just escaped.

And the Meme Became a Movement

By: Gus Victoria

And the meme became a movement. For weeks now I have been following the Occupy Wall Street protests with the same detached irritation that a majority in this country shares. It is not that I do not believe in the dialogue that the OWS movement attempts to start. I do not disagree that this country has indeed been taken hostage by corporate interests that outweigh and deny any possibility of effective democracy. Change is needed that is clear. However this OWS movement was a seemingly feeble effort by spoiled children of a self-centered era. Feeble in that there was no clear leadership that identified a problem and promoted a solution. Revolution in this atmosphere is dangerous because when the hearts of many are turned and ignited by the thought of injustices done, real or perceived, it creates a force that no institution can stand against indefinitely.

It seemed this professed movement was not taken seriously by a majority despite the passionate appeals of many within OWS. That is not to say that it was ignored either as the various other similar protests that OWS spawned demonstrate. As this occupation lengthened patience amongst many tired, myself included. Yes we understand there are problems; but what the hell are you solving by Occupying _____? Those that work hard, despite the understanding that those in power were overly greedy, almost saw it as an insult by those that participated in these protests; “why does so and so complain about this and that when I work hard?” People began to distance or divorce themselves completely from inclusion in the 99%. That beloved 99% slogan then became a meme. A quick internet search will yield many different takes on the slogan that incorporate humor and pop-culture and diminish the intended effect of that slogan.   

Then came the government reactions. OWS might have been confined to a meme had government not panicked. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say, those in control of government. The backlash against these relatively harmless and comparatively lost groups legitimized the whole endeavor. Whether THAT is what the few architects of OWS were counting on is not yet clear, but any student of Thoreau or Gandhi would probably have been able to predict that response by the government if they felt threatened. To me the surprise was that those in power felt threatened enough to initiate physical action and reprisal against these protesters when a good portion of the country had already, without intervention, discounted them.

Revolution is carried in the blood. It lays dormant when the life we live provides for us and those we care about an existence we accept. Usually this means access to basic things that allow for a propagation of society in such a structure that all within agree to it either explicitly or implicitly. When justice is absent long enough or dramatically enough then that blood begins to churn. It moves and us with it as it heats at the view of injustice. Injustice is incompatible with compassion and I believe humanity is, despite the injustices we create, predisposed to, on its own, choose compassion. When we live within the structure of government and society that we accept then we can get caught in the cogs of its soulless machinery and eschew that compassion for a duty we must perform. We in essence become slaves to a system. Sometimes that system oppresses us as we fight for its very existence against those that would see it torn down. It is a paradox that diplomacy cannot break us from. It is a disease to which politics is no cure. The only way to rid ourselves of the cancer of oppression is by waking up to its odious effects and choosing to end it. To enact a revolution within ourselves! A revolution is no panacea though, for it is like fire. It can purge and help clear in order to create. It can temper the resolve. But to burn uncontrolled can also cause destruction far worse than if nothing had been done in the first place.

That was my main objection with OWS initially. The lack of vision and leadership made me skeptical of its aims and wary of its actions. An uncontrolled revolution is always to be feared for it is little more than a mob. Then, as I stated earlier, came the government overreactions. Fear became evident. Hope slowly was uncovered. Not in what the OWS did, but in the injustice that the government’s actions highlighted. Clearing the protesters in such a hurried and violent manner, though not the bloody reprisals we have seen in other places at other times, was such that it effectively uncovered the government for what it is; a puppet state controlled by a now fearful financial oligarchy. And this is so un-American and inhumane that no matter one’s opinion on OWS the actions taken against them MUST be condemned. That is where I stand now. More to come later…

"I am 27. The hell with details because, lets be honest, you really don't care if they don't further your opinion. Why share then?

I am NOT part of the "1%"

I am NOT part of the "99%"

I AM part of the "100%"

Do not divide humanity for that perpetuates problems.

Love ALWAYS overcomes injustice and greed!

Never when we blame others before fixing ourselves.

Enact a revolution in your heart first before taking one to the streets!

I am the 100%

Keep Your Modesty, I'll Run Naked Instead

I would dress naked or at the very least provocatively, but because I think it would be too tempting to my female friends (and a few of the male ones) I choose not to. Because I am a man that previous statement sounds absolutely ludicrous. To be fair that I went straight to naked is also silly. There are several levels before that would still revile most people. I am no Adonis, yet.

Avert your eyes men!

I do this to make light of something that in reality really makes me furious. It has always angered me and been one of the proofs in life that as I observe convince me that religion in general and people specifically are fucked. Here I would make a quip about how we are no better than animals and that we are just clever chimps oppressing slightly different chimps for no real reason. Not today, we are far worse than animals and the irony is that we have God to thank for that. Or rather it is more appropriate to say, we have a certain belief in God to thank for that.

*A disclaimer of sorts: Here we must take note that it is not just a certain belief in God that prompts some to adhere to a strict dress code, but also archaic notions of sexuality and passion that have either been disproven scientifically or fallen out of fashion in most places long ago. It would be unfair to say unequivocally that it’s God’s fault as people believe in Him, or do not, in millions of varied ways.  

Before I began this rant I thought about bringing in the big guns; the philosophers and scriptures on which these beliefs in modest dress are based. I opted against this because it doesn’t matter where the impetus comes from, the problem is the decision taken to impose the belief that women’s bodies are to be hidden because of man’s inability to control his thoughts and actions. It denigrates both women and men. Everyone loses.

I am not ashamed of the human form, nor do I think that we should be. Sexual immorality stems not from the physical, but rather from the inner reaches of the mind, soul, and heart which man or woman chooses to act upon or ignore. Sex is not wrong because it is. Sex is wrong because it is when we are not. That is to say, when we are not in possession of all our faculties and choose to cheat on others or ourselves. Sin derives from that. NOT, as others might fear, from the form. A naked female is intimidating to he that either has never seen her before or has never respected her. It is easier to cover up what we are not prepared to see than to prepare ourselves to see it.

Nor am I advocating we all walk around naked. I am saying what we wear does not matter so much as why we wear it. If you love dresses and neck high blouses then by all means dress that way! For the love of God though (huge irony, I know) don’t do it because you think that’s what’s expected. And PLEASE don’t do it because the man in your life tells you so. I have read in many places and seen firsthand that in many of these systems where dress for women is to some degree prescribed it is because the man deems its right.

That’s really what irritates me most; that a man will say “you need to dress this way because I say so,” and the woman will simply obey. We are both people; man and woman alike and there need not be, should not be a moment where one oppresses the other because in doing so we both lose what we can be if we both help each other reach our fullest potential instead of hinder.

Also it not only makes the woman weak by making her subservient to the man, but also it underscores that man himself is a weak creature. Perhaps even weaker than the woman he feels he must oppress. The entire reasoning for the modest dress in a woman, or at least the most compelling is often that to dress revealing would cause the man to think impure thoughts. This, to me is a travesty; it paints the female body as something sinister which causes man to think uncontrollable thoughts. Yes, men are humans and certain instincts are triggered when presented with a female human. This is natural and not evil. Beyond that, when that passing moment lingers and turns to objectification then that instinct becomes sin. To blame that on women though is absurd! The man is at fault for they are his thoughts. Imposing his will on her is in essence extending his weakness on her as well.

What are your thoughts? Depending on the discussion there will be follow up posts and we can discuss scripture, etc. This was a rant to promote my opinion and hopefully move you to write yours below and open a dialogue, whether we agree or not.

Chasing the Fairy #7

By: Gus Victoria

Light!

A lover’s flame lit,

Fiery comfort

Of a charred memory

Encased in glass

Glowing brightly,

The way leading

To the lost gone

Wandering in wait.

Expectation of Desperation

For a thin faith fled.

They wait alone

Crowded in their solitude,

Pitied before loved,

Keepers and jailers,

Barriers to their own happiness,

Blind to the fire

Of Passion,

Slaves to desire

They cannot posses.

The Perfect Staff - Haunted Mansion Edition

By: Gus Victoria

Working at a theme park can sometimes be monotonous, but many other times it can be crushing with the pressure that comes from dealing with guests that have done away with common sense for the duration of their vacation (assuming, generously I might add, that they had any to begin with). The insane requests add up and sometimes no amount of shouting or pointing can convince a family that the door clearly marked “exit” is not secretly an entrance.  Those are just a couple of the things one must deal with.

In this work environment stress can easily get to you. During one of those stress-filled days recently I wondered what it would be like if the entire attraction was run by gods and heroes of old? I took each position as you encounter it and put a character fitting the role; historically and/or mythologically. So enjoy Magic Kingdom’s Haunted Mansion as run by a godly cast!

Greeters

Cuchulainn - Beowulf

As you approach the entrance of the mansion you see two hulking warriors. Each dressed in the typical butler green you no doubt notice the muscles tearing at the fabric as if two Germanic Incredible Hulks await the question they know is leaping to escape.

“Is this the—“

Before you can finish and say “entrance” Beowulf bellows “Enter foolish mortal!!” Then he and Cuchlainn share a hearty laugh as they take long deep swigs from their tremendous tankards which you assume are filled with something other than water. The sun glints off their tremendous steel weapons giving you a sense of trepidation and unease that will only grow as you continue down the queue. These two are after all the most good-natured of the cast.

Turnstiles

Hecate

Winding your way down the path, around the rose garden and through the garnet-colored canopy you finally come upon a crossroads. To your left is a world of interactive enchantment through a wondrous cemetery and to your right…is not. Hecate stands there waiting not very patiently for you to make your choice. As you struggle with your choice you notice Hecate’s smile waver and fade. Her mood darkens and so does the sky. You feel electricity in the air. A choice begins to form in your head, but you cannot yet decide your course. Storm clouds gather around you and the once sunny Florida day has threatened to let loose a deluge of near-bibical proportions. Yet you continue to delay your choice. In a moment of clarity though you run to your left and the skies clear as you look back to see a grinning Hecate wave warmly at you as she smiles.

Queue

Anubis

After having traveled through the enchanted cemetery playing amongst the tombs of a composer, a sea captain, and a poetess you reach a place where before you is a large wooden door. In front of this closed door stands Anubis. Despite his jackal-head you can understand him perfectly as he humorlessly requests that you fill all the open space in front of. That’s when you notice that indeed there is much space between you and the next person. You look sheepishly at Anubis as you inch closer to the person in front of you and the doors. You can’t tell if it is a smile or a snarl that he casts at you, but whatever it is you feel it burn deep within your soul laying bare all your secrets and insecurities when suddenly the door in front of you flies open!

Stretch

Thor

“YOUR TIME HAS COME! ENTER MORTALS!!”

The command is shouted like thunder and you tremble slightly. You feel fortunate that trembling was your only hesitation because hanging conspicuously from his belt is the biggest war hammer you have ever seen. Even in the darkened foyer room you can see the energy crackling across it and the power emanating from it. A child begins to cry frantically that he is terrified. His concerned parents share a panicked look hoping, in vain, that Thor does not notice.

With a furious glance in their direction the child is silenced; momentarily. Upon the second shriek though Mjolnir rises and Thor brandishes it in front of the bratty child.

“CHILD THIS HOUSE IS NOT TO BE FEARED!! I AM!! INTO THE ROOM! NOW!!!!”

With that the parents faint. With disgust Thor calls to his father’s ravens and they escort the frightened party out. With a glance that would melt the strongest resolve of the most veteran warrior Thor challenges anyone to repeat the display of the weakling child and his parents. No one does and content, Thor enters the Stretch room kindly asking everyone to enter the dead center. No one disobeys.

Load 1

Hercules

Surviving the most terrifying moments of your life to that point you enter a hallway at the end of which is a slowly moving belt. Beside this belt move your ride vehicles; nearly identical black buggies.  On the belt you see two figures, one at each end. The first is nearly as intimidating as Thor. He is the mighty Hercules and though his rippling frame is impressive it is the hint of madness in his eyes that gives you pause. As you approach he tells you in no uncertain terms that there are no more than three to a buggy. As you turn to discuss with your family who will ride with whom you feel an iron grip close around your waist and in a moment you are thrust mightily into the empty waiting buggy. Hercules simply says in a humorless tone, “you ride alone.”

Load 2

Thoth

At the end of that very belt you see an Ibis- headed butler. Like Anubis before you can also understand him perfectly. His nametag says “Thoth.” He stands in front of a colorful monitor that read all sorts of information you can’t decipher from your seat and through your shock. With a feather he uses as a pen he bids you to sit back, let the bar close, and enjoy your ride. Then he writes down something. You pray as you’ve never prayed before that whatever he wrote down was good. You are not sure.

Unload

Kali – Fudo Myoo

The ride itself consists of the most peaceful eight minutes you’ve had throughout this entire experience.  That ends in a urine-inducing frenzy brought about by a four-limbed monstrosity wielding a scimitar and a necklace of severed human heads. She shouts that you exit to your left and watch your step. You do so, because you know to disobey would be fatal. Kali then spits out a sincere “have a magical day!”  The blood she splatters you with you know you will not clean as easily as the urine.   

Fudo Myoo stares at you as you exit. With a sword in one hand and a length of rope he is almost as intimidating a figure as Kali. He tells you to watch your step as well. You would feel offended at this repeated instruction where it not for the fact that deep in your heart you know to show such offense would result in a new head for Kali’s necklace or you might find out what Fudo-Myoo’s accessories are for.

Wheelchair Assist (Optional)

Jesus Christ

If you or any in your party were confined to a wheelchair you would have seen Jesus smiling warmly. He would have asked how far you could walk. Whatever your answer and whatever your malady he would cure it and your wheelchair would be commandeered and recycled for something far more useful.

“Oh you say you can’t walk, oh but I think you can…rise.”

And there you have it, this is the universe’s greatest cast for Magic Kingdom’s Haunted Mansion. No nonsense and no stress, well for the cast at least. However a cast needs other to help coordinate the various tasks needed. And what better leader than the Prince of Egypt himself: Moses. He and Anubis do not get along well personally, but respect the hell out of each other.

And above Moses, running the show if you will, is Ganesha. With luck and wisdom such as his the attraction is in good hands; all four of them.

Moses - Ganesha

(Originally posted April 9, 2011)

Meat Loaf Memories

It was a tiki bar in south Florida where it happened. Her uncle had built it by hand himself and it looked absolutely beautiful; a piece of Hawaii with a uniquely Floridian touch. And yet that was not his greatest talent. He was a master cook and could grill just about anything to such perfection that you would swear that you had never truly had barbeque anything until this man cooked it. It was Christmas day when she first took me to this oasis deep in Florida’s relative backcountry. We had been dating for several months, but it was one of the first times I had met any of her extended family and naturally she was a bit nervous initially. As the day and evening unfolded she relaxed and I had one of the most wonderful Christmases ever with a great group of people that later would feel like family to me as well.

I would not be writing this if we had stayed together I don’t think. That is the tragedy of reflection; we often don’t do it until some sort of sadness has been overcome to put into focus within a different light the events that to that point been simply part of it all and not warranted a second look. Now she was no longer mine nor I hers. Those people might remember me, but no more Christmases would I share with them. Worse, no longer would I spend Christmases with HER.

Amicable break-ups can be very deceiving when you let circumstances end the relationship instead of letting it end mutually from a deep conviction and understanding that it simply did not work out. That however is another rant for another time. The memory of that Christmas is paired with other outings we took to her uncle’s oasis in south Florida. Together they create a string of memories that are indelibly connected but which do not inhabit the forefront of my mind. In fact rarely am I compelled to look back and think, fondly or not, on those days long gone. Except that is when a particular song comes on…

That is the great wonder, if not proper mystery, to me. How a song can become so powerful in forcing upon us the memories we do not desire to relive. Worse when those memories are sweet. For me the song is part of the memory and I think this gives it even more power over me.

Each time we attended a party with her family at this place I mentioned above it was tradition that Karaoke be part of the entertainment. As you can imagine a lot of hilarity followed as a result. A tradition within this tradition was one song in particular that she sang with her father or uncle. She had been raised as a big fan of classic rock and Meat Loaf was an artist everyone loved. “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” was the song she knew word for word and which she and her family sang enthusiastically. I was amazed the first time I saw it and experienced it that Christmas.

Years later life has moved on, with and without my consent. We are no longer together and I have found someone else that has taken my heart. However I have not been able to escape the flood of memories that inevitably is released every time I happen to hear that song. I know I am not the only one with linked memories refreshed by songs popular and obscure. Every time I hear that song I am taken back to that tiki bar and an image of her with a microphone in hand singing “Do you love me? Will you love me forever? Do you need me? Will you never leave me?” If I close my eyes I can see her too.

This would be well and good if I were single. It would fall right in line with my inadvertent masochistic tendencies. Tendencies which are inherent in most poets I would venture to say. However I find that I am not. And I am happily not. That makes these memories less and less welcome. They are happy if not altogether welcome intrusions into a present I work hard to live in and impediments to a future I am trying to build.

The strange irony of all this is that the more I try to forget, the harder these memories become to dismiss. And also because there is some cosmic comedian behind it all, the more often this song seems to play. So my remedy is no remedy at all. I shall listen to Meat Loaf when and where I please and if these memories intrude then I will tackle them there and then. Perhaps in the preoccupation of what they may mean to our current state we dismiss what they can inform us about the past and ourselves. “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” is to me now and forever a snapshot into a happier time that I will always cherish and keep much like an old photograph, there at the edge of memory.

     

In Fire Redeemed

By: Gus Victoria

Her hair a red tongue of flame

Passion fueled fire

She temps with a look

And damns with a kiss,

Her eyes sparkle

Deep as Oceanus

With mysteries akin,

Swallowed in those errant diamonds

The shade of a twice-lost hero;

Shunned from Earth

Banished from Heaven,

To find in her

More than ever was given, taken or shared,

In her embrace he burned,

And in the flames was renewed,

No angel she

No demon he,

They were,

They wished to be,

They learned to love,

They lived free,

Chaos seeking order

Night its day

Love its equal

Found in shattered hearts aflame.

Never to Part

By: Gus Victoria

Beyond a bedazzled shore

A ghostly vessel

Adrift a silvery sea

Owned the tranquil night.

A single broken mast

Once proud with sail

Now sadly bereft

Mourned under the moonlight.

A lone figure stood

Upon that empty deck

A frantic eye searching

A treasure not yet found.

He was by her shade haunted

By her fate tormented,

Love heroically sustained

What guilt thought drowned.

He called out her name,

He cursed his god,

He burned with rage

As he shook with shame.

Silently we witnessed

This spectral spectacle

Of a repentant captain

And his forever doomed lover.

No one alive knows

Why the phantom players

Ever were parted.

No one can say

If ever they will

Find themselves reunited.

A lesson learned

Through ancient relic,

Upon the tablet scribed these words:

“Stone this love can make bloom,

And to ever part,

Is to part too soon.”

Corporate Wicker Man

By: Gus Victoria

The rivers run red with the blood

Of once-innocents dead.

For you they bled

And yet you decried

The violence you denied…

But we know you lied

They, hungry ghosts, wait

Wait for the time

That you cease to gorge

On the flesh,

The carcass of democracy!

Fuck you and your monarchy

To the throne of greed you bow

Fuck you and your money

To the throne of greed you bow

Terrified what to you is anarchy

But to me is democracy

Each blood soaked fist a vote,

Each ink-stained declaration

Your condemnation!

Fuck you!

The corporate wicker man burns!

The corporate wicker man burns!

The corporate wicker man burns!

The corporate wicker man burns!

Pink Toenails

(originally posted May 16, 2011)

Fox News is a silly thing. I tend to ignore it more often than not. To me that entertainment network has equal journalistic credentials as the Weekly World News. And while the Weekly World News may tell me that the Loch Ness Monster’s third cousin is living in an abandoned UFO at the bottom of a lake in Minnesota with the brain of Hitler in a jar that gives prophecies in the form of pie recipes what I WONT find is the kind of crazy Fox News puts forth.

Recently there was an ad put forth by J Crew that showed their Creative Director, Jenna Lyons painting her son’s toenails a bright pink. In the picture you can see a nice, tender, loving and fun moment shared between mother and son. That there is reaction beyond that is surprising to me. But oh boy is there. Fox News leads the charge of course, but they are not alone. Without pointing too many fingers (I only have ten after all and that’s simply not enough) I have to say that the very idea that such an act can lead to years of psychotherapy or are the genesis for gender identity issues is small-minded at best and dangerous at worst.

I’m not saying that little boys go put on dresses or little girls go pick up a toy gun. All I’m saying, if they’re young and they want to why not? It is not the gender roles imposed on us by millennia of culture and society that make us who we are. And to say that cosmetics or fashion is a harbinger of a societal shift towards a liberal “celebration of transgendered children” (ahem “Dr.” Keith I’m looking at you) is silly and shows ignorance of history. Centuries ago it was the men that were as peacocks with tons of make-up and incredibly elaborate clothing. Things that would be deemed effeminate today and thus condemned were normal years ago. So keep in mind styles and tastes change and do not mean more than the meaning we give them now.

The reaction from the conservative right was strong enough and lacking of both common sense and decency that it made me want to act and do something. I am a straight man that believes strongly in both women’s rights and gay rights. To me they are HUMAN rights.  Does that make me weak or less of a man? I have never thought so. I love all my friends regardless of sexual orientation because I believe love is universal and if we deny it to anyone we deny part of ourselves and demean ourselves in the process.

So what could I do?

Why paint my own toenails of course! And that I did. Luckily I have the love of a strong woman that believes as I do and was incredibly supportive of my decision to paint my own toenails a bright pink. She thought it was a great idea and even picked out a really shiny pink and painted my nails for me. It was fun! Here we were one evening; a straight couple having fun doing what others would say is gay or a cause of gender confusion.  I highly suggest others try this from time to time.

Because I was on vacation all of last week (which explains the lack of Sasquatch posts in that time, sorry!) and because in Florida that means sandals or bare feet, especially at the water parks, there was plenty of opportunity to show off my shiny pink nails! The reactions I got were fun and interesting to behold.

When I was with my lady holding hands people would look and their look of confusion was hilarious. Funny enough more than once it happened that she was blamed as the originator of the idea and that I was doing this to please her. The looks lost their confusion and became more judgmental when I was caught alone without her. Then I’m sure more than one person simply made the automatic assumption that I was gay. Because I live in the Orlando area and I was at Disney most of the time the reactions were only in stares and minimally invasive. Most of the questions came from our friends and once I explained my motives, to show that painting one’s nails does not make one gay or straight, most were on board.

This was a protest and experiment. I hope to be able to do it again not solely to provoke others, but to learn from their reactions and to hopefully open up some dialogue and perhaps to show that we need not fear a little nail polish. We are all people and embracing our differences makes us all stronger and makes the world a little better in the process.

This is love. No labels.

The Zombie Shuffle - A Bone of Contention

Slow shambler from Night of the Living Dead (1968)

By: Gus Victoria

The zombie creature has a short history in this country when compared to other types of undead. Our modern zombie has evolved from its West African Roots to become, like many other legendary creatures, divorced from its mystic origins and explained by a sober, logical, scientific methodology that replaces spirits with disease as the cause. Though there still remain supernatural stories of the traditional revenant (a body returned from the dead to assault the living) our zombie has gravitated steadily toward a tendency to be a walking scientific mutation; the physical embodiment of mindless disease and decay. While those topics are worthy of study and indeed will admittedly be discussed soon in future posts, today we focus on one aspect of this change that perhaps runs deeper than any philosophical debate on the nature of the dead and un-dead. There are very passionate supporters on either side of the aisle and this is my humble entrance into that debate.

What is proper zombie locomotion? Ought they be fast or slow? That friends is the real question.

The earliest zombie films of the 30’s and 40’s were still very much encased in their African and Caribbean trappings of Voodoo and depicted the zombie as a mindlessly obedient person devoid of what had made them an individual but not yet definitely dead. In other words the earliest zombies were not, in fact, part of the undead. Their bodies yet lived even if their personality or soul was missing and were otherwise possessed by an evil sorcerer.

Then along comes George Romero and gives us the modern zombie; a mindless flesh eating undead abomination. These creatures resembled more the ghoul of medieval folklore and literature than the zombie of the 20^th century. However the name stuck and forever these creatures that were neither fully ghoul nor voodoo in nature were to be known as zombies. The chief characteristics of these new creatures were that they were a re-animated human corpse, they held no qualities of the person to whom the corpse belonged to aside from the physical, and they preyed on living humans. For a long time their locomotion was also uniform in that they always moved in a slow, shuffling manner carrying their bodies clumsily as decay set in and continued unabated.

Then came a slew of video games and movies in the 90’s and 2000’s that further demystified the zombie and introduced us to a new species; the runner. Somehow the hallmark shuffle of the zombie was replaced by the hallmark pace of an Olympic sprinter. No attempt was made to explain this, but to be fair none was needed. It was a directorial choice that served and continues to serve a specific purpose. 

Sprinters from Dawn of the Dead (2004)

I have a problem with this! Some may call me a purist for insisting that real zombies be slow clumsy shufflers. Sprinters are, as depicted in film, physiologically impossible. They cheapen the scare by substituting a slow build up of tension and inescapable fear with quick cheap shock thrills. Where a catharsis may be possible with the slow unhalting horror there is little chance for that when the zombies are fast and the conflict is over in moments. Further I contend fast zombies are not zombies at all unless we are willing to redefine, once again, what a zombie actually is.

If indeed it remains true that a zombie is simply the re-animated corpse of a deceased human then Olympic zombies are simply impossible. Now there is a caveat here of course and perhaps in that room for compromise. Because the fast zombie is impossible in the strictest sense of undeath it does not mean the shambler is the only other option nor that fast speeds from some other zombie-like animation and/or mutation of tissues is not also possible. Many people point out rigor mortis as proof irrefutable that the fast undead is simply not possible. The problem with this is that the chemical process (or rather the ceasing of said process) that causes rigor would also make these corpses impossible to re-animate. You need all these systems – circulatory, nervous, etc. - to operate within the body in order for it to move. With re-animation the rules binding the body and enabling its locomotion are modified, whether by magic (spirits) or science (cellular mutation). It would be silly then to suspend belief on all other systems save the one whose cessation would cause rigor mortis and stiffen the corpse denying it world-class speed.  

Even so I insist that though rigor is not the cause of the slow walk it is a slow walk indeed that moves the undead creature. Let us assume that it is a pervasive virus or bacterium that causes widespread irrevocable cellular mutation allowing it to bypass and render other living systems obsolete once re-animation is achieved. Blood becomes unnecessary as well as the oxygen that blood carries and so forth. The virus or bacterium finds other ways to turn the corpse into its own personal meat-puppet. This is one of the only ways to explain the phenomena without resorting to magic and mysticism and the preferred explanation in recent film and literature it seems.

Throwing rules of anatomy and physiology out the window we must admit that fast or slow both types of zombies remain physically possible. I admit this begrudgingly. And even so I still hold on to the purist notion that the only proper zombie is a slow zombie.

The reason is because although we have admitted that with the explanation of unknown cellular mutations anything is possible I still believe that such a disconnect and subsequent re-wiring of the human machine from its source motor controls leaves a less than efficient creature. And if the virus is key is must take time to adapt to its host so that though physically possible at the point of death before decay, the replacement mechanisms aren’t in place to cope with the exchange of control as smoothly even if individual areas are indeed stronger than in life. For example the zombie may strike harder than any human but it does so dumbly and clumsily because of the lack of efficient sensory input and  motor coordination. These may come in time as the virus becomes more entrenched, but from the point of death on the re-animated is on a countdown; in a race with decay and without the natural means of regeneration it had in life. Yes, the virus may make up for some of this, but it will be a losing battle that will have some sort of time table; days, weeks, or months dependent on a variety of factors.

Therefore, for the reasons stated above I amend my purist stand somewhat. I enjoy the horrifying aesthetic of the slow unrelenting corpse crawling and clawing its way to introduce you to your doom but must admit that is simply the Romantic in me. Realistically (as far as we can take the word here) I believe the undead would carry a modified “deteriorating model” of locomotion. In other words upon death there would be no rigor mortis and the corpse would be free to be re-animated with its anatomical structures in the same condition they were at death. There would be no slowing save for that allowed by the adaptive virus as it takes control or replaces the systems that allow locomotion. Shortly after reanimation the zombie reaches maximum speed and strength. Then, even if the virus becomes better at controlling the undead pieces of the human puppet, decay begins to set in and there is a gradual slowing of the creature until either the virus is eradicated or the corpse is destroyed.

What do you think? Vote and comment below!