jack_babalon: (Me)
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My more liberal friends may disagree with me on this one, but I whole heartedly support the use of 'Corporeal Punishment' (which I assume means the banishment of super-villains from this dimension to the 'Phantom Zone').

Let's not beat around the bush. The fact is is that meta-crime has been steadily on the rise in this country over the last fifty years. Practically not a week goes by when one of the city's of this great nation doesn't find herself terrorized by a rampaging lunatic with the strength of a thousand wildebeasts. Now while I may have no idea how strong even a single wildebeast is, what I do know is that our traditional judical system is not acting as a deterent to these garishly costumed ne'er-do-wells.

Since the majority of the masked vigilante community adheres to a strict code against killing, countless state and federal dollars are being drained into the metahuman incarceration industry trying to contain these IMD's (Individuals of Mass Destruction).

Therefore I believe the only humane solution is Corporeal Punishment.

Though familiar with the arguments against 'Transdimensional Exile', (that being condemened forever to an unending purgatory constitutes torture on an almost biblical level and that the process drives most of the inhabitants of the 'Zone' insane and therefore beyond any reasonable attempt at becoming rehabilitated back into society), I cannot help but wonder how many countless lives might be saved due to this process.

There are no easy answers here. As Benjamin Franklin once put it - "Those who would give up Essential Liberty to purchase a Phantom Zone Projector for their Safety deserve neither."

Of course that was written before Benjamin Franklin discovered electricity during a fateful key-and-kite accident that subsequently gave him his amazing 'Colonial Electro-Powers'. Years later he, along with the rest of the Justice Congress of America, were forced to exile Bizzaro John Adams into 'that terrible and boundless country of lost ghosts'.

For crimes 'Against both Humanity and the Dance Floor', Marlon Brando was once forced to banish the members of 'Papa Mia' (a Kryptonian Electro-Goth themed Abba cover band) into the treacherous psycho-limbo that is the Phantom Zone.
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You should hear Leia's cover of #1 Crush.
jack_babalon: (Me)
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I've seen The Warriors more than I've seen my 2nd and 3rd place picks for 'most-often-seen-movie' (childhood favorite Raiders of the Lost Ark and basic cable mainstay The Shaw Shank Redemption) combined - which is to say I've seen it a helluva lot.

The Warriors taught me several valuable lessons, ones I frequently call upon to this day. Such as -

- how to survive riding public transportation after dark.

- to never attempt to go to second base with a strange woman you met in Central Park after midnight... because she's most likely an undercover cop.

- how to disarm a baseball themed droog of their bat and then forcibly sodomize them with it until they resemble 'a popsicle stick'.

- that mimes have their own street gang and they wear top hats as part of their 'colors'.

- death by militant afroed martial artists was one of the worst ways a New Yorker could die before the Giuliani administration set in.

- avoid attending impromptu parties with firearm and switchblade wielding lesbians.

- never go into the Bronx without at least one Molotov Cocktail between you and your friends.

- that the streets are ours... if you can count, Sucker.

Now my question to you, LJ is this... Cannnn youuuu dig it!
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Black Flag's "Wasted":

Fast, loud, angry and funny - that'd be my high school years in a nutshell.
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Hmmm... though I'm a little biased here, I would highly recommend High Midnight.

Ghouls, cowboys, ghosts and clowns... how can you go wrong?

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The most harrowing one, the one I actually jotted down when I woke up (which I rarely do), was where I was riding my bicycle on the local trail here in Terminus. It was a bright day. Sunny and blue. Cruising without a care. Then I see an old woman just ahead of me and directly off the path to the right. She was huddled over and appeared to be seriously hurt. I pulled up to see if she needed any help. Froze right then when I realized that she's actually huddled over the eviscerated carcass of a jogger and lapping frantically from the wound. Wanted to scream but couldn't. Then the old woman spun her face up to mine - hissed through clenched teeth that were bright white through a blood caked jaw. Un-froze. Took off stat, kicking the bike off with a push and pedaling as fast as I could (if not faster). The woman proceeded to give chase, on all fours moving with the speed of a large dog. She was snapping at my ankles like one as well. Pedaling for my life I kept a scant foot ahead of her before I lucked out and hit a downhill slope that ran under a bridge. Picked up speed with my descent. Looked back and saw the old woman dropping back with the distance.

Looked forward and there they were.

A wall of the living dead. They didn't move towards me. They didn't have to. My velocity would deliver me straight to them.

Woke up at the exact moment of impact.

Since I usually have Z-Dreams only when I'm stressed or especially worried about something I have no control over it doesn't exactly take Sigmund Freud to figure one's related to the other. There are ones where I'm in a cage surrounded by them like I was some animal at a zoo. There was one where all my friends left me behind because there was no room for me in the getaway car outside the mud church.

I blame the steady Romero/Fulci pop-culture diet I'm especially susceptible to.

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For one magical summer in '98 my girlfriend at the time would spontaneously become possessed by the ghost of Lee Marvin. Though I'm not sure of the exact reason why or how this came to be (though rumors of her snorting lines off a mysterious ouija board she bought at a freemasonic yard sale persist) I can safely say that it made for a very unique couple building experience for us. I first noticed this phenomena when she began smoking cigars, talking in an uncharacteristically gravelly voice and began regaling me with tales of being a sniper with the United States Marine Corps during the battle of Saipan. At first these periodic bouts of possession added spice to our admittedly strained relationship. Watching 'Lee' pop up suddenly at the bar where 'he' would arm wrestle drunk frat boys over downed whiskey shots, stoogie clenched between a lipstick snarl and actually win... even when she let the other 'guy' use both arms. Catching Pigface at the Masquerade where 'Lee' would get good and hammered before indiscriminately kicking the shit out of skinheads twice 'his' size in the pit. Or standing on the check out line when my baby would start growling out random dialouge from The Dirty Dozen or Point Blank.

Fastest damn line I've ever been on, let me tell you.

All was well until old 'Lee' dropped in during a rather intimate moment. One that found me at that moment face deep in my baby's lap while she steered me to O-ville using my ears as a driver's wheel. Out of the blue she started calling me 'maggot' in that familiar voice that sounded like a chain smoking cement mixer and then proceeded to sing ballads from Paint Your Wagon Red.

Which sucked big time because I really hate Paint your Wagon Red!

That was when we decided to get help.

We tried a psychiatrist at first, but when 'Lee' defenstrated the bastard on the initial visit we thought it would be best to try something a little more 'alternative'. Shrines were bribed, exorcisms performed, prayers chanted and still nothing. We danced naked on an indian burial ground under a new moon, we wallpapered our home in tin-foil and utilized arcane rituals that may or may not be responsible for the current apocalyptic conditions of the early 21st century.

Still nothing.

Finally, an idea hit me. I went out to every video store in Terminus and rented arm loads of Lee Marvin movies. Then I tied my baby up to the love seat (using old Christmas lights that I was practically obliged to plug in) and then made her watch each movie, only starting at the end and rewinding to the beginning. Three days later she was cured...

... where upon she quickly dumped my ass and threatened to press charges if she ever saw me again.

To this day I don't know who I miss more... her or Lee Marvin.

jack_babalon: (Default)
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Any combination of the following...

jack_babalon: (Default)
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The ability to read brains as if they were poorly written novels and to kill people just by staring at them long enough (often for the crime of refusing me chocolate when I had asked ever so nicely). There are other things of course... but mainly the telepathy and murder-vision though.

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My collection of singing scars of course!
Read more... )
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What? You mean it might have been a conspiracy of puritans all along?
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I'm on Livejournal so I can do both at the same time.
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Worried... like a fox!

My plans for the contagion so far are simple. Board up the doors. Duct tape the windows. Put on my rubber scuba suit and gas mask (for reasons that are for once not related to my sex life). Pull my lawn chair up in front of the internet. Get drunk off my well supplied Pabst Blue Ribbon cabinet. Keep a loaded shotgun on my lap while screaming hysterically at Fox News. Shout bible verses through a megaphone to my heathen neighbors. Only eat bacon and/or porkchops while wearing a condom. Freebase cocoa mix to old Romero flicks. Weep uncontrolably for the death of loved ones. Subside off a diet of cold canned foods. Learn to knit. Do push-ups to Mozart. Build a robot out of cardboard boxes for company. Dance in the dark while humming old Patsy Cline songs to myself. Then... when I am one of the last men on earth, I will play chess with the ghosts of Vincent Price and Charleton Heston desperately trying to ignore the baying of hooded infected outside my apartment. Finally when the apocaflu begins to sputter out and the last of the swine-zombies have been dispatched, I will step out into the ruins of western civilization looking for a mate to repopulate the human race with...

... but for now, I must bide my time and be patient.
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For me nothing beats a traditional 'Walpurgis Night S'mores' - two communion wafers sandwiching a marshmallow and a chocolate dipped Psilocybin mushroom - all slow roasted over a roaring Beltane Fire.

Mmmm, that's good Paganism!
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My absolute favorite episode would have to be Jose Chung's "From Outer Space" - the alien gray smoking a cigarette in a cage, a Jesse "The Body" Ventura cameo as a Man-In-Black, the odd little multi-person narrative that frames both the absurdity as well as the sheer wonder of conspiracy culture in general and to top it off the image of Agent Mulder, laying in bed at the end of the day, casually watching the Patterson-Gimlin Sasquatch film the way most folks would watch the Tonight Show sums up the character perfectly for me.

Second Place: "Musings of a Cigarette Smoking Man" - what can I say? I just love a good villain origin story (this one done as a sort of evil version of Forrest Gump). That and the fact that we see how the X-Files-verse crosses over with some of the more pressing conspiracies of our real world (JFK, MLK and even the Gulf War) lent the series a certain gravity, adding to the illusion that the show could be happening somewhere in the shadows of the 'real world'.

Favorite X-Files Scene: The one where we see the zombies come out of their graves at the end of the episode and they begin dancing with each other. I'm pretty sure it was a sort of 'Dream Sequence' but it still makes me laugh to this day.

Worst episode: The one where they have to deal with a Genii. Am I remembering this episode right, Mulder gets three wishes and one of them wipes out all life on earth, the second wish restores all life on earth and on the third he free's the genii/spirit? Three wishes and not once does he say "Hey, I have a wish - tell me what the fuck really happened to my sister?"

Favorite Freak(s): I can't find the specific reference but there was this one episode with a family of inbred hillbillies (who at the time struck me as a kind of Faulkner version of Texas Chainsaw Massacre clan). I remember they kept their decrepit, withered, limbless(?) mother underneath a bed in this old house and at the end some of the clan escape in an old cadillac or something to terrorize rural America on the road. Sure the Fluke-Man and the pyrokinetic guy were fun, but the hillbillies from hell just creeped the fuck out of me. If I recall the episode was originally banned(?).

My actual experiences in the Paranormal would be too extensive to list as an addendum here. Some other time perhaps?
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Pfff... too easy, I choose you Jesus of Nazareth:

"Oh no, Jesus we're stranded on an island... quick use your 'Messiah Powers' to summon a giant whale to give us a ride back to land..."

"I'm sorry, my Son... you are thinking of Aquaman"

"Well can't you summon Aquaman then?"

"No, I'm afraid not... the King of the Seven Sea's is a 'Scientologist'"


"Oh, yes... you would be surprised to learn how many superheroes are actually Scientologists"


"Excuse me..."

"Sorry, force of habit... so um, can you still walk on water?"

"I am the Lord, the Light and the Logos my Son... if I wanted to I could Moon-Walk across the ocean!"

"Well quick, Jesus... run across the waves and get help!"

"Now you're thinking of Lassie..."

"Is Lassie a Scientologist, too?"



"Very well my Son... you wait here and I'll go 'get help'"

"Thanks Jesus... you're the greatest!"


Twenty three years later and on an unknown island in the Pacific Ocean-

"You know I don't think Jesus is coming back..."
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My Time Machine broke down here.


White Trash. Black Magick. No regrets!


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September 2016

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