I don’t know why you guys make me write this smut. I don’t know anything about sex. I’m Mormon for fuck’s sake! I don’t even touch my penis in the shower!
So just remember: if you get uncomfortable reading this portion of the story, it’s your fault. You MADE me write this.
Merry Christmas, Mr. Lorenz (Part X)
Dr. Effington noticed Bill on the couch, buck ass naked, as she walked into her office. “I’m ready to do this, doctor,” he said.
“I see,” she stuttered as she stared at his erect appendage, “well, uh, what are you wanting to discuss today?”
“Well,” Bill replied, “I want to take the final steps towards rehabilitation, in whatever way you see fit of course.”
“Are you ready for that?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Dr. Effington smiled slightly, nodded, then stripped down completely naked in full view of Bill. She sat down in her usual chair cross legged. “Talk to me,” she ordered.
“What turns you on?”
She looked at him from across the room over the rim of her glasses. “Honesty,” she replied, “intelligence…kindness.”
“Do you think I’m a kind man?”
She started to feel up her left breast. “I seem to think so,” she said, “do you think you are?”
Bill began stroking himself. “No. I don’t think I am at all.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“You said you liked honesty, doctor,” Bill replied, “so I’m just being honest.”
Still cross legged, Dr. Effington began feeling herself between her legs. “Do you think that this will get you out of here?” she asked.
“I absolutely do.”
The two sat there, mouths agape, as they pleasured themselves. Finally, Dr. Effington spoke up. “You’ll have to wear a condom,” she said.
“Understood.”
After she tossed him a contraceptive, Bill quickly unwrapped it and stretched it over his part. “Do you need anymore assistance?” he asked.
“I absolutely do,” she replied as she uncrossed her legs. Bill then went down to his knees and placed his mouth onto her genitalia. But he found her exaggerated moans amusing. Bill knew he was no good at oral sex as he only performed it a handful of times.
“Fuck me, please,” Dr. Effington ordered. He had never heard her use such language. Nevertheless he bent her over the chair and took her from behind.
Although she squealed with pleasure the entire time, Bill suspected she was faking. Finally, as Dr. Effington rode him cowgirl in the chair, she appeared to climax. The two held each other for a minute before they ever uttered a word. “Are you good?” she asked as she ran her fingers over his lips.
“Yeah, I’m good. Thank you, doctor,” he replied.
“Then I declare you rehabilitated,” she said.
Bill rested limp inside her for another few minutes before she got up and dressed. “I can’t begin to tell you how happy this makes me, Mr. Lorenz,” the doctor said as she put on her bra, “please get dressed and I’ll begin the paperwork for the discharge board.”
Bill took a deep breath, nodded, and began dressing. Dr. Effington got on the phone with the board while he quietly went to a corner of her office to remove the condom.
He then dumped the empty cumless rubber into the trash can.
People ask me all the time: what’s your worst story?
And the answer is the story you’re about to read…Dr. Si. It’s poorly written, the jokes don’t land, and the character motivations make zero fucking sense (much like an actual James Bond story).
Some background though: the last “Detective James from LA” story I posted was The Man with the Golden Eye, which was the second in the series. While Dr. Sí, for all intents and purposes, is a direct sequel to that story, it’s actually the fourth in the series. Magnum Enforcer, the third entry in the Detective James saga, is actually a banger that I might republish here at another time. But you really only need to know two things from Magnum Enforcer: it introduces the Korth .357 magnum WHICH James uses to senselessly kill the villain at a Chucky Cheese in the story’s conclusion, plus Mr. Ree is formally introduced (although he’s in the first two stories)
However, knowing that information prolly won’t change a thing because this story’s still a piece a shit.
Dr. Si
“I’m Amish now,” I said to Admiral Majors and Izzy. “I don’t believe in violence anymore.”
“You mean to tell me we drove all the way to Pennsylvania from Los Angeles just for you to say you’ve taken a vow to never kill again,” the Admiral asked.
“Yes. I killed a man in cold blood. Not out of justice,” I replied. “I felt pure hatred. And I hope to never feel that again. That’s not God’s way.”
“The man you killed was a bent cop AND a serial killer. Fuck that guy!”
“No,” I said. “You see this,” I pointed over to the wide green pastures. Off in the distance, Amish brethren were erecting a barn. “This is God’s way. Hard work and community. That’s what will get us to heaven.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this bullshit,” the Admiral replied. “So you wanna play hardball eh? Fine. $2 million. I am offering you $2 million of tax payer money to join my force. One of our top nuclear scientists have gone missing, and we have reason to suspect that the Ionian Liberation Front is behind it. You’ve dealt with those guys before. If you change your mind, you know where to reach me.”
The Admiral stormed off. Izzy bashfully stood around.
“What’s her name,” she asked.
“Miriam,” I replied. “She’s a good woman. She’ll make an excellent mother.”
“I’m happy for you,” she said. “I’m seeing someone too. I gave Admiral Majors a hand job on drive over here. He’s taking me to dinner tonight.”
“I wish you two the best of luck.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Goodbye James.”
“Goodbye Izzy.”
After I finished tending to the cattle, I washed off the bull semen then went to the homestead for supper. Miriam served me up a plate of beans and cornbread.
Miriam was a plain and simple Amish woman. We married during the fall harvest. Her father was Ezekiel, one of the community leaders. He was generous enough to take me in.
“Didist thou havest a good day,” she asked.
“I did Miriam. This is a well-earned supper after an honest day’s work.”
“The Lord hath blessed us. I am pregnant with child.”
“This is swell news indeed. The community with rejoice at the announcement.”
We smiled and held hands while we sat around the fireplace. I was loading tobacco into my pipe when Ezekiel stopped by.
“The Lord has brought forth good news,” I told him. “Miriam is pregnant with child.”
“Praise the Lord indeed,” he replied. “I am going to be a grandfather.”
The two of us went to the porch to watch the sunset. I took a match to the pipe. “So what brings you by Ezekiel,” I asked.
“I’m afraid Brother Peter is not doing well,” he said. “He won’t likely survive through the night.”
“That’s a shame. Miriam and I shall pray on it.”
“Unfortunately, I bring more bad news. Bandits have returned and stole four more chickens. We don’t have the funds to replace them. I’m afraid that we are having trouble feeding the children and the harvest isn’t bringing what we need. Times are hard indeed.”
“The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away,” I said.
“I wish someone would do something about these bandits. They have drained all of our resources for the winter,” Ezekiel said.
I puffed on the pipe and rocked in the chair. “I’m sure the Lord will provide.”
That night I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned. I sat up and kissed Miriam on the forehead while she peacefully slept.
I grabbed a shovel and hid behind the chicken coup while I waited for the bandits. I heard twigs snapping and bushes rustling. They were close.
“Stop right there or I’ll bash your head in,” I told the two bandits.
They laughed. “You’re Amish,” they said. “You can’t hurt us.”
“Grab my cock and find out,” I replied, referring to the rooster.
We had a stare down. I waited for one of them to make a move. One went for his pistol and I smashed the shovel right on his dick.
“My dick,” he yelled.
The other one leapt at me and I knocked his clean off his shoulders. Blood sprayed all over the coup. I went over to the other man laying on the ground.
“Don’t kill me,” he yelled. But I smashed the shovel right into his guts.
I buried the bodies deep in the woods.
I took the shovel and began digging behind the barn. Out of the dirt I pulled out an old oak box.
Inside the box: the Korth 357 magnum.
***
“I’m sorry Miriam,” I said before I departed for Washington. “I’m doing this for the money. I must save our Amish community.”
We exchanged goodbyes and I rode my horse and buggy down to Washington DC to rendezvous with Admiral Majors at the Pentagon.
“I knew you couldn’t refuse my offer,” the Admiral said. “Now take off that Amish bullshit. You’re a colonel in the Army now.”
I donned my uniform and saluted the Admiral. “Welcome to the Kill Force,” he said.
We boarded a plane and flew to The Hague. “What’s this about,” I asked the Admiral.
“We’re going to meet with Angelika Antoluktokoloplos. She knows the whereabouts of our missing nuclear scientist. Right now, she’s standing trial for war crimes.”
Angelika: my former nemesis turned ally during the Franco De Werner case.
Izzy flew along with us. Her and the Admiral were now married. “The President married us. We had the wedding on the White House lawn. You should have been there,” she said. She was trying to make me jealous.
“I’m so happy for you Izzy,” I replied.
Also on the flight was none other than Mr. Ree. “Well as I live in breath,” I told him. “I thought you died back in Los Angeles.”
He laughed. “No, I had an increased blood flow from that massive erection while I was pretending to be a prostitute. That’s what saved me. Thank god for viagra,” he said as he was popping viagra. “Now I always walk around with a boner.”
Me and Mr. Ree shared a few drinks at the airplane bar. “Keep the martinis coming,” I told the bartender.
“I heard you turned Amish,” Mr. Ree said.
“I’m a new man now,” I replied. “I’m only doing this for the money.”
“You get paid to do this?”
We got rip roaring drunk at the bar. I couldn’t sleep on the flight. Mr. Ree gave me a Xanax.
That morning, the plane landed at The Hague. The Admiral, Izzy, Mr. Ree, and myself were escorted to the maximum security prison by a NATO officer, Maj. Jzerkov.
“Be warned,” Jzerkov said. “The prisoner is uncooperative, she hasn’t given up any information regarding the whereabouts of the Ionian Liberation Front.”
“Just take us to her,” the Admiral said.
Angelika was locked up in a 3×3 glass box, chained to a chair. “Why is she nude sir,” I asked Jzerkov. “To prevent suicide,” he replied. “These terrorists will stop at nothing to avoid answering for their crimes.”
“Well well well,” Angelika said. “If it isn’t the Admiral and his lap dog. It’s Private Detective James from Los Angeles, isn’t it?”
“It’s Colonel James now,” I replied.
“Where’s our missing nuclear scientist, Ms. Antelukolpolous,” the Admiral asked.
“Why should I tell you anything?”
The Admiral took me and Jzerkov aside. “Release her into my custody,” he told Jzerkov.
“This is highly irregular Admiral! She’s standing trial,” Jzerkov replied.
“Look, I need a bargaining chip.”
Jzerkov thought for a second. “Alright, Admiral,” he responded. “But you owe me one.”
The Admiral nodded and went back to interrogating Angelika. “Okay Ms. Anolupolokolopos,” he said. “We are prepared to cut you a deal: charges will be dropped and you will be released into my custody….IF…if….you provide us any information. Just a name will suffice.”
Angelika sat back in her seat and smiled. “If you plan on going after the Ionian Liberation Front, you better bring bigger guns.”
“Angelika, please cooperate,” I said.
“Alright,” she responded. “You want a name, here’s a name. The man who kidnapped your highly esteem scientist is none other than…,” she gave a long pause.
“Dr. Sí”
***
Angelika was loaded onto the plane, strapped to a dolly like she was Hannibal Lector. Maj. Jzerkov was generous enough to give her a jumpsuit.
This time, the plane was bound for Hawaii, the last known location of the nuclear scientist and Dr. Si.
“Are we getting drunk on the plane again,” Mr. Ree asked.
“Damn right we are!”
Admiral Majors joined us at the bar. He was to brief us on our mission.
“The rest of the Kill Squad will join us in Honolulu,” the Admiral said. “Sgt. Private, Captain Corporal, and Lieutenant Sargent have been fully briefed on the situation.”
“Maybe I’ve been too drunk to pay attention,” I said. “But what is our mission?”
“I thought it was obvious,” the Admiral replied. “Retrieve the scientist and kill all the bad guys. How complicated do you want this to get?”
“What about Dr. Sí? What will we do if we capture him?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
After drinks, I went to the cargo bay to talk with Angelika. I dismissed the guards and removed her mask.
“Can you remove the straps please,” she asked. “I need to use the bathroom.”
I unstrapped her from the dolly and watched her closely while she used the toilet.
“Does this turn you on,” she asked.
It kinda did but I played it cool. “Just making sure you don’t escape,” I replied.
“Where am I gonna go? We’re on a plane.”
I didn’t reply. She wiped and flushed the toilet. “Gonna wash your hands,” I asked.
“Why? I didn’t shit on my hands. So what do you want to talk to me about?”
“What’s the deal with Dr. Sí? Why is he so important?”
“This technology he possesses, you couldn’t possibly imagine its power.”
“A nuclear weapon?”
“No. Something more powerful.”
“What could be more powerful than a nuclear weapon?”
“You have a small imagination.”
I scratched my head. Maybe I was too drunk to have this conversation. “Well what does he want with a nuclear scientist,” I asked.
“Nuclear power can be used for other things than just weapons.”
“Care to divulge?”
“Set me free from this cargo bay and I’ll tell you everything.”
“I’ll have to discuss that with the Admiral. He’s particularly concerned about the….”
I turned around for a second and Angelika leapt at me with a makeshift knife (that she presumably snuck in up her ass (or vagina)). I was quick enough to grab her arm and throw her to the ground.
I laid on top of her for a brief moment. We stared into each other’s eyes while I restrained her, my mouth inches from hers. We were both aroused by the sudden burst of action.
The guards rushed in when they heard the commotion. “I got the situation under control,” I told them.
I stood up and ordered the guards to strap her back to the dolly. “Our conversation is done here,” I said. “I’m gonna go jack of…er, I mean, get a Jack. A Jack and Coke. I’m gonna go get drunk.”
But I didn’t go to the bar. I rushed to my cabin to beat off.
***
The Kill Squad met us at Honolulu Airport. While we were unloading in the hangar, Sgt. Private, Lt. Corporal, and Cpt. Sargent gawked at Angelika.
“I’d like to stick my penis into her vagina, if you know what I mean ,” said Sgt. Private.
I bashed him in the face with the butt of my rifle. “Watch your mouth. Ms. Antolonolupolopolos is under our protection. She is our guest and you will treat her as such.”
“Enough,” the Admiral said. He walked over to Sgt. Private, pulled out a 9mm, and shot him in the head.
“Jesus Christ,” I yelled.
“I will not tolerate insubordination in this unit,” the Admiral said. “Lt. Corporal, Cpt. Sargent…get rid of the body.”
I walked over to Mr. Ree. “Does the Admiral usually shoot people for insubordination,” I asked.
“Oh yeah! All the time. Don’t worry about it.”
Afterwards, the entire squad, plus Angelika and Izzy, was airlifted by helicopter to a remote location in the jungle…on the other side of Diamond Head. We set up headquarters in a small hut where we planned our excursion.
The Admiral laid out a map on the table. “Dr. Sí and the scientist were last seen at this location,” he said while pointing to a spot on the map. “I believe they’re now here,” he continued while pointing at a different spot. “Do you agree, Colonel?”
“Sure,” I replied. “Why not?”
“Good. We will head out at 0600 tomorrow morning. Load up on extra ammo,” he said to the group. “We’re bound to run into some resistance.”
The squad retreated to their huts around the camp. I ran into Izzy on my way out.
“The Admiral is a great guy, isn’t he,” she asked.
“He’s a crazy asshole. I’ll say that much.”
I noticed that she had a black eye. “You know Izzy,” I said. “If you ever need to talk about anything, you can come to me.”
“Oh, this black eye,” she asked. “This is nothing. We get a little carried away in the bedroom.”
“Well be careful,” I replied. “No choking stuff. I learned that one the hard way.”
Meanwhile, Cpt. Sargent was harassing Angelika in her hut. An explosive collar was placed around her neck in the event she tried to flee or attacked someone in the group.
“If you don’t leave Angelika alone,” I said to Cpt. Sargent, “I’m gonna place that collar around YOUR neck.”
He glared at me as he left her hut.
“I don’t need your protection James. I can take care of myself,” she said.
“I think you do. Any one of us can detonate that collar if you put up a fight. Some men here might take advantage of that.”
I took a seat while she sat up on her cot. I decided to take the first watch.
“The Admiral is gonna get you killed,” she said.
“Probably. But he’s paying me well. That money will help my wife and Amish community.”
“You have a wife? And you’re Amish?”
“You sound disappointed.”
“You’re not my type.”
“Is it because I’m Amish?”
“Just don’t get yourself killed on my behalf.”
We bantered for awhile. She fell asleep and unfortunately I did too.
Later that night, men snuck into the camp. They hooded, muzzled, and kidnapped Angelika and me. When the hood was lifted from my head, I was in a laboratory.
Angelika was nowhere to be found.
They placed me on my knees, hands bound behind me. Even worse, the explosive collar was now around my neck.
A man in a white lab coat walked in front me and lowered himself to my face.
“Hello James,” he said. “I’m Dr. Sí.”
***
“Well shits assholes,” I said to Dr. Sí. “We’ve been looking for you. I guess the search is over! Can I go now?”
“Not so fast,” he responded. “I need to know where your Kill Squad is going.”
“First I want to know what happened to Angelika,” I demanded.
“Fair enough,” he said. Then Dr. Sí turned to the corner of the laboratory. “Angelika, come join us.”
Angelika stepped out, all dolled up with her red hair flowing down to her shoulders. “Sorry James,” she said. “You’re not my type because Dr. Sí is my type.”
The two kissed passionately in front of me.
“I do want to thank you, Colonel James, for returning her to me,” Dr. Sí said.
“Hey, not a problem,” I replied. “Can you return the favor by removing this explosive collar from around my neck? Once when they realize Angelika’s missing, this thing will blow my head off.”
“First, where is the Kill Squad going?”
“They’re probably coming here!”
“We are certainly not at where they are going.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
The doctor turned around and looked at a computerized map of the Hawaiian islands. “I am a man of science, colonel. In order for my experiments to work, I need EXACT measurements. I cannot afford unpredictability. So again…where is the Kill Squad going?”
I was running out of time. The collar was going to detonate at any moment. Then I remembered…
“$2 million,” I said.
“$2 million?”
“Yes, $2 million and I give up the coordinates of the Kill Squad plus any other state secrets you want in order to sweeten the deal,“ I replied.
I was bluffing about the state secrets part. I didn’t know shit.
“$1 million,” Dr. Sí responded.
“Deal. The coordinates are 113.998N 737.746W. Now get this collar off of me!”
Dr. Sí laughed and ordered the guards to remove the collar. “Thank you for your cooperation colonel,” he said. “But as an insurance policy, I’ll place this collar on one of your acquaintances.”
The guards rolled in Mr. Ree, strapped to an upright gurney.
“They kidnapped me too,” Mr. Ree said. “Can you believe that bullshit?”
“Ohh come on,” I said. “Don’t kill Mr. Ree! He’s cool! Besides, that thing will detonate before the squad reaches its destination!”
“That’s just a chance I’m willing to take,” Dr. Sí replied.
“Look, I don’t give a damn about Admiral Majors or the Kill Squad. But there’s a woman that’s traveling with them: Izzy. Please don’t kill her,” I pleaded.
“Colonel, relax,” he said. “I’m not looking to kill anyone, except for Mr. Ree over there. I just want to see that thing go off.”
“I don’t understand.”
Dr. Sí put his arm around my shoulders and started walking me around the laboratory. “I understand your confusion. You see, has anyone told you the truth about that missing nuclear scientist?”
“To be honest doctor, for this entire mission, I’ve kinda been asleep at the wheel. I don’t even know that scientists’ name.”
“Ah, let me show you.”
Dr. Sí opened a door and out walked an old man in a lab coat. I think I was supposed to be impressed by this.
“I don’t know who this is,” I said.
“That’s J. Robert Oppenheimer.”
“Who?”
“J. Robert Op…the father of the atomic bomb?! What are you? Some kind of fucking moron?”
“You cloned him?”
“No asshole! I brought him from the past into the future! Don’t you get it yet? I invented time travel!!”
I walked up to Oppenheimer and looked him up and down. “Welcome to the future,” I told him. “We killed Hitler.”
“I know that, dumbass,” he replied. “We should have dropped the bomb on him!”
I looked back over to Dr. Sí. “So what? You invented time travel. Big whoop. How can you use that against the Kill Squad?”
“That’s why I brought my friend Oppenheimer to the present. You see, we created a new kind of weapon: a time weapon.”
“That sounds pretty fucking stupid, Dr. Sí,” I said. “How can you weaponize time?”
“Well you see, if you can triangulate the space time continuum, the quantum field fluctuations will…”
“Okay, sorry I asked,” I interrupted. “That science shit is boring. Cut to the chase. What’s gonna happen to the Kill Squad?”
“I will fire a plasma energy weapon at their coordinates. When the weapon reaches them, it will generate a quantum field around them and they will be transported to a different time and place.”
“My god,” I said. “A non-destructive weapon. You’re a genius Dr. Sí.”
“So you’re not a complete fucking idiot after all,” he replied. “It is far more humane than the nuclear weapons of the last 80 years. Imagine: no more nuclear fallout, no more mass death…we simply transport our enemies to a different time, different place.”
I looked around the laboratory…at all the scientists running around, to Oppenheimer, to Angelika, and then over to Mr. Ree.
“I cannot deny your genius, Dr. Si,” I said. “But it appears that the only one in danger here is Mr. Ree. If you’re really are humane, you’d remove that collar.”
Dr. Sí nodded. “I suppose you’re right, Colonel.” He looked to the guards. “Remove the collar.”
The guards walked over to the gurney and removed the collar. As they were about to dispose of it, it detonated, killing and maiming several of them.
Out of the confusion, Oppenheimer attacked one of the guards, grabbing his machine gun.
“Put down the gun Oppenheimer,” Dr. Sí said.
“No,” he replied. “You’ve been holding me hostage here. I’m not your puppet!”
“But Bob,” Dr. Sí pleaded. “We’ve been building something special here. Don’t you want to finish our work?”
“No! No more weapons!”
More guards rushed into the room, forcing Oppenheimer to drop his gun.
“Sorry Bob,” Dr. Sí said. “It appears your time is up.”
Mr. Ree was released from the gurney. The two of us were ordered to raise our hands and were rounded up with Oppenheimer.
“Lock these scum up,” Dr. Sí ordered.
***
“This is science gone haywire,” J. Robert Oppenheimer said. “I should have never agreed to help Dr. Sí.”
“Don’t beat yourself up,” I said to him. “We’ll get you out of here and back to your own time.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” he replied.
“Sure it does. It’s science! Anything is possible.”
“We can’t just go ‘back in time’. Doing so would violate all sorts of Newton’s laws. When the quantum field is generated, the individual is transported to an alternate timeline. The laws of physics remain the same and the outcomes in these timelines might be similar to our own, but it’s not the same timeline. Am I making sense?”
“Nope,” I replied. “But we’ll get you as close to your timeline as humanly possible.”
“Forget it,” Oppenheimer replied. “Our best option is to disarm the weapon to prevent this from happening again.”
“How do we do that?”
“There’s a special property in the element of gold that penetrates through space and time. If the gold is removed from the nano chambers, the weapon would be powerless.”
“Sounds like a plan Bob.” I looked over to Mr. Ree. “Do you think the Kill Squad will alter course and find us?”
“I doubt it,” Mr. Ree said. “I don’t even know where we’re at.”
“We’re at the bottom of a dormant volcano,” Oppenheimer said. “They’ll never find us.”
“Shit,” I said. “Then we have to take matters into our own hands. We just need an opportunity.”
Angelika then peered through the opening of our cell door. “James,” she said, “just hold tight, I’m gonna get you out of here.”
“Angelika,” I replied, “I thought you were with Dr. Sí.”
She then reached her hand through the opening to touch my own. “Dr. Sí is no friend of the Ionian Liberation Front. He’s no friend of peace and justice. I don’t want this technology to fall into the wrong hands.”
“Get us out of here and we’ll destroy it,” I said.
“No! Think about it James. With this weapon, we can right all the wrongs. We can undo our violent past and create a better future.”
“I don’t know Angelika.”
“Please, I’ll get you out of here. But let me have the weapon.”
I thought for a second and agreed to her terms. Then she grasped my hand tightly.
“What’s your wife’s name?” she asked.
“Miriam”
“She’s a lucky woman. Perhaps in another time….”
She let go of my hand and closed the opening. I heard some rustling outside, then a few gunshots. After a few moments, the cell door blasted open.
Angelika walked across the rubble wearing a skintight leather suit and holding a Heckler & Koch M27.
“Alright boys,” she said. “Let’s blow the top off this volcano.”
***
We stole guns off some guards that Angelika brutally murdered and ran down the corridor.
“The time weapon is is being held three floors above us,” Angelika said.
We began to feel tremors all around us. I asked Angelika the last time this volcano erupted.
“About 25,000 years ago,” she said.
“Then this thing could go off at any moment. We better hurry.”
We went down the corridors and up the stairs in an attack formation. Angelika and I covered the front. Mr. Ree and Oppenheimer covered the rear.
When we reached the room holding the time weapon, the Kill Squad…along with Izzy….was there. They altered course and stormed into the volcano earlier in a bloody, devastating firefight. Not many survived.
“Thank goodness you’re alive,” the Admiral said. “And you found J. Robert Oppenheimer. Excellent work. Lt. Captain, please dispose of the scientist.”
Lt. Captain cocked his pistol and raised it up to Oppenheimer’s head.
I raised my rifle to Lt. Captain.
“Pull that trigger and you’re dead,” I told him.
“But Colonel James,” the Admiral said, “this time travel stuff is against the laws of God. We must destroy all of the evidence.”
“No,” I said. “Oppenheimer has as much right to exist as the rest of us.”
Dr. Sí then rushed in with his guards. “Well well,” he said. “Glad you’re all here.”
We were surrounded. We dropped our weapons.
Dr. Sí walked up to the Admiral. “I’m happy to see you’re doing well Admiral,” he said.
“This ends today doctor,” the Admiral replied.
“I think not,” he replied.
Dr. Sí walked over to a control panel. In a corner across the room, the floor moved, revealing a lava pit.
“I’m sorry Admiral,” the doctor said. “But you can’t go where we’re going.”
The guards grabbed the Admiral and pushed him towards the pit. “You’ll never get away with this,” he yelled.
“Of course I will. I control time! Think about the possibilities Admiral! We could have taken over the world. You never understood that.”
“Izzy, don’t let them do this,” the Admiral screamed. She walked over to him and the guards.
“You’re one abusive son of a bitch,” she said. Izzy then roundhouse kicked him into the fiery pit. When the screams stopped and the flames died down, Izzy turned around.
“Can I go home now,” she asked. “I didn’t want to be here anyway.”
“I’m sorry madam,” Dr. Sí replied. “I cannot let anyone leave here alive.”
“So what happens now? This volcano will erupt at any moment,” I asked.
“Exactly Colonel. In a few moments, I will time travel out of here and this volcano will erupt, destroying the evidence.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Angelika said. Dr. Sí walked up to her, grabbed her hair and put his lips on her.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out between us,” he said. “I gotta go.”
He went back to the panel and a countdown started. A laser dropped down from the ceiling which would release a plasma field around its target, triggering a spacetime ripple that would permit time travel.
“Before I forget,” Dr. Sí said to me, “here’s the $1 million I owe you. Where I’m going, this money is no good.”
He threw a metal briefcase as my feet.
“Alright,” the doctor said, “let’s get this bullshit over with.”
The laser then fired out a beam, creating the field around Sí. While the guards were mesmerized by the sight, Oppenheimer ran into the field, pushing the doctor out.
There was a bright flash of light, then Oppenheimer was gone…lost somewhere in time.
“You fool!” Dr. Sí yelled.
Out of the confusion, Angelika attacked the guards and took a gun. She began spraying bullets across the room. I picked up the briefcase and ran for cover.
I grabbed a rifle from a dead guard and began shielding Izzy. Mr. Ree then engaged in the firefight.
When all the guards were dead, Angelika threw down her semi-automatic and grabbed Dr. Sí. He tried to put up a fight.
“Angelika!” he screamed. “This volcano will go off any second. We don’t have time for this!”
“Time’s up bitch!” she said. Then she threw him into the lava pit. A large flame shot up in the air.
Meanwhile, Mr. Ree was monitoring communications between guards over the radio. “Reinforcements will be here in a minute,” he said.
I handed the briefcase to Izzy. “Make sure Miriam gets this,” I told her.
We shared one last look. “Mr. Ree and I will give you cover while you escape,” I said. “Angelika, go with her.”
“But I didn’t get the weapon,” Angelika responded.
“Let it go,” I said. “You can save humanity without it.”
I reached out my hand to hers and we looked deep into each other’s eyes. “Goodbye Angelika.”
She gave a pause. “Goodbye James,” she said.
Izzy and Angelika, along with a few surviving members of the Kill Squad, ran back down the corridor. The tremors were beginning to pick up.
Mr. Ree and I stood behind the control panel, waiting for reinforcements to arrive. “Ready to go where no man’s gone before,” I asked him.
He put a cigar in his mouth. “You’re reading my mind.”
As guards were pouring into the room, Mr. Ree provided cover while I fiddled with the controls. The laser pointed in our direction and released a beam. The field surrounded us.
Where…or when…we were going, only God knew.
Then there was a brilliant flash of light….
*********
Izzy, Angelika, and the Kill Squad made it out of the volcano just as it erupted. As they watched the explosion from a safe distance, Izzy turned to Angelika.
“Do you think they’re dead?”
Angelika looked to the ash cloud hovering over the jungle. She thought for a moment.
“No,” she replied. “They’re out there…somewhere in time….”
Bill kept wiping the sweat from his brow as he waited for Dr. Effington. The nurses once again attached the heart shock device to his chest. After 10 agonizing minutes, the psychiatrist walked into the office.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Lorenz,” she said. The doctor rolled her chair just feet away from Bill.
She was wearing the same boring brown skirt that went past her knees. Bill had seen her don that same outfit hundreds of times. Though slightly relieved…because he thought this might be a normal session…he couldn’t help but feel disappointed.
“That’s quite alright, doctor,” he replied, “I’m sorry for taking out my penis and trying to touch you last time.”
“Given the circumstances, that’s quite understandable,” Dr. Effington explained, “but due to safety concerns, I cannot permit you to touch me. At least not yet.”
Bill wondered what she meant by ‘not yet’.
The doctor pulled out a folder and began looking through her notes. “Now last time we spoke, we were discussing your family life,” she continued, “I would like to explore that further.”
Bill sat up in his seat. “Wait a minute,” he replied, “I’d like an explanation for our last meeting.”
She closed the folder of paperwork in her lap and removed her glasses. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lorenz. But I can’t disclose that at the moment,” Dr. Effington said.
“Why not? It’s my treatment. Don’t you think I’m owed an explanation?”
“All of this will become clear in time. Now please, let’s return to the subject at hand.”
“Doctor, you stood completely nude in front of me. I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have questions.”
“Your psychological makeup is quite unusual, Mr. Lorenz. And unusual problems require unusual solutions.”
“Then I cannot participate in this treatment if I’m not given an adequate explanation.”
Dr. Effington sat up and readjusted herself. She ever so slightly slid up her skirt and uncrossed her legs. For a long half second, Bill could see she was not wearing underwear.
He sat stone faced as she continued her questioning.
“Mr. Lorenz,” Dr. Effington said, “I need you to trust me in this matter. Now please…tell me about your relationship with your mother.”
Bill began to feel sweat beading down his back. “Uh…,” he stuttered, “there’s not much to tell. She OD’d when I was 15. My father was also a junkie and he ran out on me. I was raised by my grandfather.”
“Did this ever make you feel alone? Guilty?”
Bill chuckled as he began rubbing his face. “Yeah, I guess you could say that,” he said.
“What did you do to address these issues?” The doctor asked. She again placed her pen up to her lips.
“Uhhhmmm…I’m sorry, Dr. Effington, but I know you’re not wearing underwear.”
“I know you know.”
“Could I see more?”
Dr. Effington moved her fingers down her blouse. “Possibly,” she replied, “but I need you to answer my questions. Were you angry after your mother’s death? How did you cope?”
“Of course I was angry,” Bill said, “I was angry at the world.”
“Is this how you became involved in politics?”
Bill paused for a moment. “I…I don’t know,” he replied.
“Fuck your Philly cheesesteak!” Bill yelled to Junior. The guard was delivering Bill’s dinner directly to his cell. But the prisoner took the plate and dumped the contents down the toilet.
“Goddamnit Bill,” Junior said, “what’s your problem?”
“As a political prisoner, I’m going on a hunger strike!” Bill replied.
“But you requested the Philly cheesesteak for fuck’s sake! What more can we do to make you happy?!”
“Nothing! My sole aim is to agitate.”
Junior shook his head. “Look,” he said, “if you go on a hunger strike, we’ll just sedate you and feed you through a tube. Furthermore, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not your enemy. Dr. Effington is not your enemy. No one here is your enemy. We’re all here to help.”
“Help with what?” Bill asked, “to transition me into a society I abhor?”
“Fine!” Junior replied, “stay here for the rest of your life! But please do me a favor: don’t make things difficult for me. We’ve gotten along in the past and I consider you my friend. Don’t turn me into an agent of your persecution complex.”
“But you are persecuting me,” Bill said, “you sold out to this new order. You are my enemy.”
“Whatever,” Junior said as he stormed away, “I can’t deal with you when you’re like this.”
But a little after midnight, Bill was tossing and turning in his bunk when Junior entered his cell. “Get dressed,” he ordered, “Dr. Effington wants to begin a new treatment.”
“She wants to start now?” Bill asked.
“Yes. It’s tailored specifically for you. Relax, no drugs are involved.”
Bill jumped out of bed and put on his standard prison jumpsuit. Junior and two other guards escorted him to Dr. Effington’s office where he was greeted by a nurse at the reception desk. “I’m just going to check your vitals, Mr. Lorenz,” the nurse said. After taking his blood pressure and temperature, she sat him down for questioning.
“Have you been depressed in the last week?” the nurse asked.
“Well I am incarcerated,” Bill replied, “that doesn’t exactly make me happy.”
“Do you experience any sexual problems? Are you able to achieve an erection?”
The question took him off guard. “Uhh, well, ummm…I am 47 years old. Maybe I don’t have the stamina I once did but…”
“Will you require the use of a stimulant to achieve an erection?”
He began to blush. “I’m, I’m not sure what this has to do with…”
“Just answer the question, please.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Do you have any heart conditions that you would like to discuss that you haven’t previously disclosed?”
“No?”
The nurse then unzipped his jumpsuit and attached a device that stuck to his bare chest. “We will be monitoring your heart rate,” the nurse explained, “but be warned: this device will also shock you if you get too close to Dr. Effington. Understand?”
Bill nodded. He was too petrified and confused to say anything.
“Alright, Dr. Effington will meet you in her office,” the nurse explained, “please step inside.”
Bill stepped into Dr. Effington’s office, as he had done dozens of times before, and the nurse shut the door behind him. He sat down in the same comfy chair that had always been there.
Nearly 10 minutes later, Dr. Effington stepped into the room. She was dressed a little differently, wearing only a long light blue coat that went well past her knees. “Doctor,” Bill said, “what is going on here?”
The Doctor pulled out her chair from behind her desk and placed it less than five feet from Bill. “This will all make sense in time, Mr. Lorenz,” she said, “now please relax and answer a few questions. First, do you find me attractive?”
Bill wiggled in his seat. “Uhh, yeah. Yes. Why do you ask?”
“Second: do you trust me?”
“I uhh, I don’t know if I have any other choice, Dr. Effington.”
“Fair enough, Mr. Lorenz. Now please, don’t be alarmed. I’m about to remove my coat, and underneath I am completely nude. Do not be ashamed to look at me or my body but please answer every question I ask. If you feel the need to undress yourself or masturbate, you are encouraged to do so. But you may not touch me under any circumstance. Am I understood?”
Bill sat deathly silent but Dr. Effington took that as an implicit ‘yes’.
“Alright, let’s begin,” she said. The Doctor removed her glasses, let down her hair, then unbuttoned her coat…
I like the idea of a non-children’s movie about an animal. What little I know about EO, I guess it approaches the human subject from the perspective of a donkey. Whatever emotions, thoughts, ambitions, etc that we see in the donkey is merely a projection. That’s interesting.
I’ve stated somewhere on this blog before that it’s this very perspective that made me appreciate David Cronenberg. Since we’re humans, we tend to take for granted the nature of our bodies and behavior. But from a non-human perspective, we are probably very disgusting and perplexing creatures. And, perhaps, that’s why body horror plays a significant role in some of Cronenberg’s films.
But Schrader states that “the impulse to anthropomorphize defines us.” I’m not sure where he’s coming from with this, but that’s a hard disagree from me. For example, my cat probably assumes that I’m just a larger cat, so in a way, he’s simply “felinemorphizing” me. In short, “anthropomorphizing” is not a unique phenomenon to humans.
Another commenter suggested that, to humans, animals are innocent because they are “untouched by original sin.” It should be noted that Schrader was a noted Calvinist who, despite maintaining progressive ideals, still identifies as Christian. Now this suggestion is obviously incorrect, BUT…insofar as I’m aware…only humans practice religion. This can mean one of only two things: humans ARE touched by some supernatural reality, OR we are not as intelligent as we believe ourselves to be. You be the judge (I think you know where I stand). Nevertheless, to conceptualize religion broadly, speculating on things that cannot be observed IS a unique human phenomenon (insofar as we can tell).
This impulse led humans into a religious paradigm and, subsequently, into a scientific one. Moreover, this impulse was spearheaded by the ultimate unique cognitive capacity: complex language.
THAT’S what makes humans humans.
But, I think Schrader hits on an important point: why do we empathize more with the pain of an animal than that of a human? Obviously (in my view, at least) evolutionary psychology plays a significant role in this. But Schrader is correct. In fact, our contemptuous and flippant attitude towards one another makes us nothing more but animals.
Actually, I’ll go a step further: we are the WORST animal there is.
Sybok, played brilliantly by Lawrence Luckinbill (in a role originally intended for Sean Connery) is Spock’s half-brother turned religious charlatan. He amassed a following by tapping into the emotions of a down-trodden people who later helped him gain control of the Enterprise. In this scene, Sybok uses his emotional trickery to tear apart the the Original Series triumvirate…Kirk, Spock, and McCoy…and nearly succeeds: McCoy is forced to relive the pain of euthanizing his father, and Spock is reminded of his half-humanness that caused him to be a pariah in Vulcan society and feel less loved by his father.
Kirk, meanwhile, sees through this bullshit and reject’s Sybok’s offer to be “released from his pain.”
Regardless of how you feel about Kirk’s rationale for clinging on to his pain (to me, Sybok and Kirk seem to have the same philosophy of “deriving strength through pain,” it’s just that Kirk kept his eye on the ball…regaining control of the Enterprise…while everyone else succumbed to Sybok’s charisma) this is actually a very well directed and well written scene. And it just so happens to be in the worst Star Trek movie there is (personally, I think Insurrection, Nemesis, Into Darkness, and Beyond and WAY worse, but whatevs).
This is why I think director William Shatner isn’t to blame for STV. When it comes to the character interactions, this might be the best that Star Trek has to offer. By the time this film was made, the actors had been playing these characters for over 20 years and it certainly shines through in this scene.
Shatner made the right decision to not create an elaborate set design. It’s like an intimate theatrical production and it’s one of the highlights of the franchise.
Star Trek: First Contact- “The Line Must Be Drawn HERE”
The Enterprise follows the Borg back in time to the late 21st Century and it’s up to the TNG crew to save history. Meanwhile, the Borg take over the Enterprise and Picard goes on a warpath.
Now this might be the most famous example of an “emotional climax” moment in Star Trek, but it’s got some problems. While Alfre Woodard delivers an Oscar-worthy performance, as any Star Trek fan could tell you, it should have been Beverly Crusher who confronted Picard. Additionally, Picard is out of character. While Patrick Stewart is an incredible actor, in my opinion, he never quite understood Star Trek OR the appeal of his famous character. And it was Stewart’s push to make Picard more vengeful and heroic in this installment. While that doesn’t make a lick of difference to the average viewer, things like that DO matter to Trek fans, which is why First Contact has fallen out of favor with some.
That being said, everything is well executed. This is also director Jonathan Frakes’ (who plays William Riker) first motion picture and it doesn’t show. Star Trek seems to excel when one of the actors is allowed to direct.
Oddly enough, science fiction is somewhat secondary to Star Trek. First and foremost, the franchise is about HUMAN stories that uses science fiction as a backdrop. That’s why Trek is such fertile ground for actors. And I think the sequence above highlights that point.
While the stuff between Woodard and Stewart is incredible, I also like the mini-arc between Worf and Picard. The Captain’s judgment had clearly been clouded and Worf was absolutely correct in confronting him. Picard was in the wrong, plain and simple. Which is why I love the payoff when Captain Picard makes his apology and states his admiration for his longtime security officer.
It’s a small moment, but for longtime fans, it was an impactful one.
Remember, for the month of October, this is the story that AI told me to write:
A woman in her sixties, who can be quite compassionate.
A man in his early thirties, who can be quite aggressive.
The story begins in a nightclub.
Someone is driven out of their home.
It’s a story about greed.
Your character reluctantly becomes involved
So here’s the story. I don’t know what to call it.
“I don’t piss in public toilets,” Eric shouted above the music to Don Lemon. “The toilets are connected to the publicly funded municipal sewer system which then goes to a treatment facility. From there, hazardous chemicals and biologicals are removed from the water where it is then discharged into receiving waters like lakes and rivers. Downstream, other municipalities treat that same water so that it is safe for human consumption. That’s socialism. I’m a libertarian. I don’t believe in using such systems. Besides, REAL men piss outside.”
“Look,” Don replied, “I’m just saying that there’s no sense in holding your piss in! If you gotta go, GO!”
Eric and Don met in college. Despite their paths diverging after graduation, the two remained close. Now in their early 30s, Don was killing it selling Mazdas at the local dealership. Eric was still taking odd jobs stocking shelves and slinging pizzas.
“Mazda is a quality machine, Eric,” Don would always tell his friend, “I could get you a good job down at the dealership.”
This made Eric chuckle. “Don, you know I’m a Hyundai man.”
Don was happily married. But his friend Eric wasn’t blessed with the skill of communication. Or even empathy. He’d pity his friend as he watched him fumble around with women throughout their dorm days. But Don’s obligation to his best friend never wavered. Though knowing it was futile, he’d encourage Eric to mingle, hoping that some lucky lady would relieve him of his duty to his awkward friend.
Now the two pals were batching it up at the club. Don sipped his cocktail, leaning against the bar. Eric was pounding the rum and cokes, ignoring the patrons.
“She’s cute,” Don said, referring to the girl on the other end of the bar. As opposed to the other girls in the club, this one was closer to Eric’s age, dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt.
“She’s alright,” Eric replied.
“Buy her a drink!”
Eric stumbled his way across the bar. After seven rum and cokes, he was easily able to overcome a vague sense of nervousness. “Hi, I’m Eric,” he slurred, “can I buy you a drink?”
The disinterested girl nodded. “Wh-what do you do?” Eric asked.
“I’m a graduate student.”
“What do you study.”
“Middle Eastern Studies.”
“I love the Middle East!” he exclaimed. “Did you know that since the US invasion of Iraq, the economies of various nations in the Persian, or Arabian, Gulf have exploded: the UAE, Qatar, Bahrain, Kuwait, etc. And they did so without much help from public subsidies. A perfect example of the power of unbridled capitalism. This, as opposed to Iran, who, US sanctions notwithstanding, drove their economy into the ground by nationalizing most of their industries. What a shame.”
“Uh-huh.”
Moments later, the girl’s friends came to collect her. “Gotta go! Thanks for the drink,” she said.
“Fuck this,” Eric thought. He signaled the bartender to close his tab. “Are you leaving?” asked Don.
“Let’s face it, Don,” Eric explained, “females just aren’t interested in an intelligent, nice guy like myself. They want bad boys to treat them like rag dolls and whores. I’m done with this shit.”
“At least let me drive you home,” Don pleaded to his friend.
“No! Those are public roads! I’m WALKING home.”
***
Across town, in a much quieter bar, Patricia was lamenting her 60th birthday. “To god for allowing me to live one more year on this godforsaken planet!” she toasted to her friend.
“Maybe you should stop drinking,” Debra replied. “If you get one more DUI, you’ll surely be fired from you VP job at the bank.”
“Poppycock!” Patricia yelled. “Without me, that bank wouldn’t run!”
“Just take it easy, you gotta be at work in the morning.”
Patricia looked down at her watch. “Oh fuck, you’re right. I better go.”
“Well let me drive you home,” Debra pleaded.
“Sit the fuck down bitch,” Patricia replied, “you’re acting like I never drove drunk before.”
Patricia pulled out her keys and revved up the engine to her red Porsche 718 Cayman GTS. She cranked up Def Leopard’s Hysteria album and sped out of the parking lot.
On down the road, while walking home, Eric finally had to relive his bladder. With his deep-seated hatred for all public works, Eric pulled out his penis and began pissing on the street. Patricia, meanwhile, was singing at the top of her lungs to Animal as she burned down the road.
Suddenly, mid-piss, Patricia clipped Eric with her Porsche. He helicoptered into the air before landing on the pavement, unconscious, and covered in urine.
I’m sure Italy is a wonderful place: nice people, delightful food and wine, rich history, beautiful scenery, etc, etc. But ‘giallo’ films and Italian horror as a whole…I’ll just say they make me absolutely sick.
And I think I know why:
Caligula.
Now Caligula can’t be considered ‘giallo’ OR horror, but it might as well be. If you recall, that film absolutely scared the shit out of me as a kid and I never quite recovered. So my response to Italian horror is similar to having alcohol poisoning: if you get it once by drinking vodka, you can’t quite stomach vodka again. The Italian style of tight closeups, zooms, disorienting music and editing, and fixation on gore and nudity just make me a little queasy.
But I have a job to do. And that job is to watch EVERY cheapass horror film on Tubi. That includes the filmography of the legendary Lucio Fulci. So I started at the worst possible place:
A Cat in the Brain.
The movie forced me to do some research while I was watching it, largely because I had no idea what the fuck was going on. Fulci plays the lead: himself as a film director that’s slowly becoming disturbed by a movie he’s making. As we watch him descend into madness, we’re shown random clips from prior films, almost as if this movie was thrown together in the most halfassed way possible.
A Cat in the Brain was produced towards the end of Fulci’s distinguished career, so there’s no telling where he was mentally. But I’ll say this: Fulci did a much better job of cobbling together this Frankenstein of a movie than Godfrey Ho did for Robo Vampire.
I neglected to mention that A Cat in the Brain is considered a “comedy” (thus deploying the “covering your ass” method over decade before Tommy Wiseau did for The Room). Maybe the humor went over my head, but I was too petrified watching some guy beat his wife’s face off to laugh.
You needn’t worry though, because this movie has a happy ending: a disgusting Fulci sails off into the sunset with a bikini-clad woman that’s at least a third his age.
I hated A Cat in the Brain. But Fulci fans love it. Just check out the reviews at IMDB.
After watching that shitshow I needed a palate cleanser. That’s when I found the 1984 Wings Hauser and Bo Hopkins (RIP) classic , Mutant.
Perhaps calling Mutant a ‘classic’ is a bit of a stretch, yet despite its lackluster script, it is competently made. It’s a story we’ve seen a thousand times before: strangers roll into town, weird things happen, everyone turns into zombies, heroes save the day in the most ham fisted way, blah blah blah.
Of course, none of the character archs pay off. Least of all Bo Hopkins’, the alcoholic town sheriff with a dark past. Nevertheless, Hauser and Hopkins’ performances carry the day, ALMOST to the point where you don’t feel cheated out of your time or money.
Actually, I just LOVE saying ‘Wings Hauser’. It sounds like Wings of Desire, the 1987 Wim Wenders film. Then I imagine Wings Hauser being in Wings of Desire and it makes me happy. His might be my most favorite name of anyone who has ever had a name.
Definitions vary. But in short, it’s any person that rides a fine line between being insane…or criminally stupid…and a total menace to society.
Which leads to a bigger question that I get asked everyday of my life: how does one get inducted into the Internet Ruined Everything’s Hall of Fame of Real Ass Dudes (IREHOFRAD)?
Because this is such an elite club, one must meet the following criteria:
1. Demonstrated clear excellence in insanity or stupidity. But their eccentricities can’t lead them to be perpetually in jail. Remember, being a menace to society is a clear disqualification for being a real ass dude. Serial killers, mass murderers, and Harvey Weinstein will never qualify.
2. That being said, there are bonus points for criminal activity. DUIs, robbery, minor drug trafficking, embezzling, manslaughter, fraud, etc, are perfectly acceptable. Sex and hate crimes, however, are an automatic disqualification. OJ Simpson totally rides the line here.
3. Have outstanding achievements in the fields of entertainment, business, sports, politics, technology, etc, that will stand the test of time REGARDLESS of their insanity, stupidity, and criminal activities. A prime example here is Bobby Knight. The man had no business coaching a college basketball program who nevertheless won three national titles. This is why Knight was the first inductee into the HOF.
Basically to get into the Hall, inductees must exemplify, or outright facilitate, the decline of society’s collective super ego.
Have someone you want to nominate? Let me know in the comments.
On the ballot next year is OJ Simpson, Brett Favre, Lyndon Baines Johnson, and Donald Trump. Only one can get in.
I say that internet trolling has gotten BETTER since my day of IMDb message boards and AOL chat rooms. It was easier then. People were far more gullible.
Kids today are craftier, resourceful.
They rarely tip their hand.
A good example is the “fuck.atheism” accounts on Instagram. Of course, I’m assuming that they are trolls (allegedly ran by some jailbird named “Brandon Walsh”). For the sake of my sanity, I have to believe that they are.
Take a look:
This is “fuck.atheism.5”. This is number 5 of 6 accounts with this name and avatar.
“Obviously that’s a troll,” you might say.
I wouldn’t be so sure:
“So the guy’s committed to the bit. Kudos to him,” you say.
Yeah, I suppose. But…Jesus, who the fuck is this for?
Look, in my day, I probably could have pulled something close to this out of my ass. But if this is a bit, where’s the parody? Is it the blatant science denialism? I would have never of wasted that much time for a joke!
See what I mean?
This is either skill or overzealousness. And it pisses me off that I can’t tell which it is.
“Who cares?”
Well for posterity’s sake, I think things like this should be recorded and analyzed. We are either looking at modern art or batshit insanity. Or maybe it’s both.
Someone has to explain to future generations what we were doing with the internet. And that’s what this website’s all about.
The Internet Ruined Everything 