Posts Tagged "monsters"
It seems like every year that goes by, I love pizza a little bit more. Especially after living in Chicago for a couple of years, a city that has a very different understanding of what pizza — even so-called “New York pizza” — is than I do, I’ve come to appreciate a fine slice of greasy carbs originating in the borough of Brooklyn all the more. What can I say? Pizza is like my family.
And indeed I have tried… after receiving my summons on Saturday night, the only viable option was to bury my anger in a grotesque, slopping pile of cheese and alcohol. It kind of worked, until I woke up on the couch the next morning smelling like toxic waste.
So yeah… methinks I’ve been hitting the zah a little too hard lately.
A surprise deadline this morning and a subsequent total lack of motivation forced my latest drawing to go up very late indeed, even by our usually tardy (or was that ‘tarded?) standards. Considering how indifferent I feel about updating the blog at all today, I’d say we’re actually doing pretty well. But hey, don’t thank me, thank the drawing. If it wasn’t for him, shit would be real boring around here.
That’s all for now. I’ve got a tattoo appointment tonight and I already feel like I’ve been mercilessly flogged by a team of muscle-bound sadists after skateboarding for a few hours yesterday. At the moment, I’m just trying to avoid work, pain or anything else vaguely uncomfortable for as long as I can.
Methinks the blog’s been a little too wordy as of late.
But fear not. In the words of everyone’s favorite bionic killer gone faithful bodyguard, “I’ll be back.”
At first glance, this drawing might seem way more emo than it should. Fear not, I’m not about to regale you with tales of how much I suffer in my pursuit of total blogosphere domination or how hard it is procrastinating all day or how the ring weighs more heavily on me now as my journey takes me deep into the heart of Mordor. Whereas I once proudly wore my heart on my sleeve, these days I like to bottle up all my frustrations, grief and anger inside. I heard that was healthier.
In actuality, this illustration is a Dedleg variant of some album art I put together for Connecticut prog-rock upstarts, Dorian. They’re releasing their debut EP, Struggles this week in anticipation of their upcoming full length and are raising money via Internet begging to help cover costs. Check out their Kickstarter page, since I think we can all relate to the struggles inherent in the agonizing existence of the extremely talented. Well, I mean, at least I can.
Look out — the past is all around us. And I’m not talking about old people.
It always freaked me out to think that looking up at the stars is actually looking backwards in time — entire solar systems might have burned up centuries ago as you gaze at their twinkling little star, a mere speck amidst a cornerless blanket of similar specks. Indeed, the size of space as we observe it is not measured simply in distance but in time. The stars circling around our sky won’t be seen as they actually are right now for decades. There’s no doubt that space is big as it stretches on into the infinite abyss, but once one pauses to consider how that huge expanse of mostly nothing has existed for thousands of millions of years, and that we’ll always be playing a giant game of cosmic catch up… well… it’s easy to see how one could get lost in it, even just within the small amount of space that exists inside our heads.
Let’s face it, Christmas is upon us. I don’t want to waste too much time commenting on the obvious, or even honoring holidays in general, since historically, tradition has been used as an excuse for all manner of fucked up bullshit. Nonetheless, after you get past the rampant materialism and impassioned religious silliness, Christmas really is just about good feelings, family, friends… and, of course, mulled wine. And that’s the kind of shit I can get behind.
Basically, Christmas at the Dedleg household is kind of like that Kanye song that goes “Champagne wishes, 30 white bitches, I mean this shit is fucking ridiculous.” And indeed, it is… it is.
This started out as a fun little warm-up exercise that ran wild somewhere along the line. I have a tendency to over-design things; indeed, I’d describe my style of perfectionism as “flossing a dead horse.” Necessary? No. Pretty? Often not. Fun? Fuck no. Fortunately, this horse had some life left in it and my flossing was not in vain. Dude could stand some mouth wash, though.
No real point to this one — I mean, on a relative scale of pointlessness, it’s even more pointless than most of the pointless shit that goes on around here. But it served its purpose… so I guess that means it wasn’t pointless after all? Wow, who fucking cares! It’s the freakin’ weekend, baby gonna have me some fun.
Just like how every Christmas, Santa Claus uses his evil powers of consumerism to kill a little part of the baby Jesus, with every passing Halloween the holiday gets less about looking scary, and more about looking like an icon from our pop culture’s festering stew whose relevance to our own lives is scary. So, in an effort to put some fright back into every sad Lady Gaga getting her stomach pumped this weekend, I’d like to introduce you to the definition of pure fear: the SyFy original, made-for-television thrillfest, Flu Bird Horror.
For starters, if you can’t already tell this movie is horrible from the title alone, I don’t know what part of your brain never grew, but it didn’t. An honest review of this “film” is so far out of the question, it’s for the birds. The flu birds, that is. Let’s take a look at the movie’s cover, shall we?
A short list of problems, and we haven’t even gotten to the movie itself:
- The title is wrong on its own fucking DVD cover - although I’m honestly not sure which one is worse anyway. At least Flu Bird Horror consistently reminds you that the movie is supposed to be scary, which is actually pretty hilarious on its own.
- The bird on said cover looks nothing like the birds in the movie, and that’s because the birds in the movie look like rubber pterodactyls on a long migration from Mordor.
- Trying to make sense of the tagline “If they fly, you die” is an exercise in both futility and masochism. At no point is the birds’ flight in question — this isn’t a movie about savage ostriches or mutant penguins — the birds fly during the entire 89 minute runtime. Granted, many of the main characters also do die, but that has more to do with the fact that the birds eat them… on the ground! I have to believe somebody could have come up with a tagline that still rhymes the words “fly” and “die” and is a little less obviously retarded.
So yeah, we’re in for some real cinematic majesty here.
Now, I’ve seen a lot of “so bad they’re good” creature features before, but this one is more of a “so bad it’ll make you feel bad about watching it” type of film. The plot is nonsensical, and all the characters are stereotypes so absurd they’re basically just caricatures of every variety of annoying teenager the mall has to offer. The miserable acting is completely over the top, no doubt made even worse by the atrocious dialogue that you spend almost as much time cringing at as you do laughing at. Without exaggeration, this is almost certainly the worst movie I have ever seen.
And yet, somehow, it still manages to entertain for an hour and a half. Sure, not like some movies do — what with their poignant lessons about the human condition, mesmerizing visuals, and touching emotional performances. This one instead tries to win you over like the half-retarded puppy content to piss all over itself for attention, becoming more of a mockery of itself with every scene all the way until it sizzles out inexplicably in its final minutes. Aside from the hamfisted message about self vs. group mentality in survival situations that gets totally lost in the barrage of shit-awful acting and writing, the movie’s climax basically amounts to a character saying (almost literally) “The end.” Nothing is explained, none of the countless loose strings tied. The conclusion contains no resolution at all, except for your own — first, to never again make the mistake of watching it, and second, to tell everyone you know that they should watch it.
When it comes to the arts, I’d say my strength really lies in sketches done in the margins of school notebooks of cartoons killing themselves. It’s a gift.
I want to die in my sleep like my grandfather… Not screaming and yelling like the passengers in his car. — Will Shriner
That’s all for now, folks. This move is kicking my ass, and I haven’t even done anything except watch my girlfriend pack boxes. But, that shit looks so bad it’s making me feel tired. Things may be a little bit touch and go for the next week, but I’m confident I’ll make it to my final destination unscathed, and not burnt to cinders by a fiery crash landing in the middle of a cornfield 100 miles from New York. Metaphorically speaking.
Obviously, if there’s a way I can put both a skull and one of my signature pointy-eared creatures in the same drawing, I’m going to do it.
The Dedleg Doomsayers — get used to it, because that’s gonna be the name of our Pop Warner youth football team this year, guys. Now, if only I was legally allowed near children, we might actually have a shot at the championship…
Well, fuck that. I’m not going to let the “law” and some debatable poor decisions in my past ruin what very well might be the greatest flag football season of my life! I say you, me, that guy outside the 7-11 who’s always looking for change, and anyone else we can find get together and give those snot-nosed, suburban shits a run for that gold-spray-painted plastic trophy!
Man, just reading that over now is getting me psyched up. I could have been so kick ass at sports. I mean… if I had any physical strength whatsoever or even the smallest shred of athletic ability, that is. But I’ve really got the pep talk thing down. And you know what they say: those who can’t do, coach football.
It’s mind-boggling, no, unfathomable, to imagine the, heh, depths of what we don’t know about the ocean. It might as well be another world! James Cameron’s 1989 documentary, The Abyss, proved as much. And now the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration just finished a mission in Indonesia, using a robotic vehicle and a sonar mapping system to explore nearly 21,000 square miles of sea floor off northern Indonesia, at depths ranging from 800 feet to over two miles. And they found some mighty strange — some might even say alien — shit down there.
That, for example, is a carnivorous sponge. A carnivorous sponge?! The deep sea is a fucking nightmare, apparently.
Scientists predicted that up to 40 new plant and animal species may have been discovered during the three-week expedition. 40 types of horrors we didn’t know about before.
Further proof: this is a Chimaera. For fuck’s sake, it’s named after a monster from Greek mythology. Which it might as well actually be considering the looks of this thing. Their evolutionary lineage branched off from sharks nearly 400 million years ago, and they’ve been growing all the more freakish ever since. The lines running across its body are used to sense pressure waves, like ears, and the dots on its nose detect electrical fields produced by living organisms. So yeah, crazy.
And this Octopod’s head is looking way too much like an alien on a t-shirt from the 1990s for me to be comfortable with.
Not to be outdone, here’s a fish with feet. You need to decide, motherfucker. Just like Ariel in The Little Mermaid.