I write the songs that make the whole world cry....

You dudes been watching Americian Idol? Come on, I know you have. It's okay to admit it. What the hell else is on T.V Wednesday nights?

Poor oil rig guy Michael Sarver got the boot last night. Dude was a oof, and during his post "i'm-going-home-to-the-place-where-I-belong" intervew, he drops this on us...

"There is something that America does not know about me. I am a serious writer. I have written over 890 songs since the age of 14. There is a lot of stories, a lot of life, a hard-lived life and a good-lived life...and I'm going to share it."

890 songs? give me a break. I'm wary of anyone under the age of 30 that has written more then 100 songs - but eight hundered and ninety of them? Hey buddy, The Beatles only wrote 193 songs and maybe about 20 of those were throw-away studio outtakes released on some "rarities" boxset. What makes this guy think America wants to listen to all 890 of his songs about his life?

I guarantee you this is the last we will see of Michael Sarver.

Next up on the plank? Please Jebus let it be Scott.

Red Giant Part 4

RED GIANT
Part 4: Thief in the Night

535 AD – An Island in the Sundra Strait
The Island had been quite for over 100 years. It’s lush jungles teeming with life in every form had long forgotten the God on whose breast they tread on. The natives no longer gave worship with sacrifices and with prayers. Too long have they been allowed to wallow in their inequity and irreverence. They needed to be reminded – the world needed to be reminded.

As the sun spooked through canopy, Nisnash was carefully collecting the red berries needed for tonight’s festivities. Only the freshest and brightest berries would do. Nisnash took pride in his work. He spotted an especially bright grove past the waterfall and began to wade across the stream. He was halfway across when the ground moved. He stopped and listened – there was a rumbling that faded away from him. He stood motionless until the rumble faded completely. Above him all the birds left their nests and blotted the sky. He turned towards the great mountain in the distance – there was smoke. Again the ground lurched and Nisnash was thrown off his balance. He splashed down in the stream, losing his basket of berries to the rushing water. He stared up at the mountain – more smoke. His thoughts turned to his family. His children playing in the village. His wife preparing the meal. Before he could get up to run to them, the mountain spat out Hell from its mouth. Nisnash ceased to exist.

China – The Capitol city of Jiankang
The palace floors were cold on Emperor Wu’s feet. With the news that Mars had been seen in the Dipper constellation - one of the twenty-eight mansions of the Chinese constellations, thus heralding ill fortune – he decide to walk bear foot in hope of diverting the bad omen. The morning chill was still embedded in the stones so he made his way to the balcony and warmed himself in the sunlight. It was then that he noticed the cloud beginning to form in the southern sky. It’s shadow crawled across the sun and across his bare feet. Emperor Wu watched till it covered the whole of the heavens and sun was but a red plate suspended in the haze.

The Roman Empire - The city of Constantinople
Justinian the Great awoke to darkness. Leaving his bed, he walked to the window and gazed outside. A heavy smoke dominated the world and below him Rome was in shadows. He looked up again towards the sun and watched as scarlet surface rippled with ashen waves, carried by a warm wind. To the left of the sun, hs attention was diverted - it was the moon, still visible in the grayness. Crescent and carrying within it's arms two bright stars. He wondered aloud, "What wickedness is this?"

Philistia – The city of Gath
Goliath removed the lid to his sarcophagus and tasted the bitter air of his cave. Along the side of the stone casket a withered woman lay naked, crumpled. Her hair grey and tangled, her skin dark and scared. Around her mouth crusted blood. Goliath walked past her and towards the cold draft coming from the darkness ahead of him. He sensed something – something was off. He could see the opening ahead of him, and the gloom that peered inside. The giant emerged and looked up. For the first time in over 450 years, he saw the sun. It’s rays held back by some dark cloud sent from the bowels of hades, they could not hurt him now. Now, he could feed unrestricted. Now, the time was right for his revenge against the one man that had bettered him in battle – Constantine. Although he know the emperor was long since dead, he would travel to his land and defile it. Curse it.

From the book: De Bello Persico, by Procopius of Caesarea
"No one knew from whence the great plague came to Rome, but at it’s height, over 5,000 people a day died within its walls. In it’s early stages this plague ravaged the land under a dark red sun – it seemed that even the heavens were infected by this ungodly pestilence. In the streets the dead took roost. There was no where left to place them, or bury their infected flesh. From their skin blood ran freely. Boils or holes would open up to the air and let loose the red death that rested inside the corrupted bodys. The Byzantine Emperor Justinian, already taxed by his funding of the war against the Vandals and the Ostrogoth Kingdom, was poorly prepared to deal with the plague. Even he himself contracted the plague but managed to survive – forever regulated to run his kingdom from his quarantined home until his death in 565. It is now clear that the long term effect of this scourge led to the direct fall of the Christian empires of this age and beyond."

565 AD – The City of Gath
The skies have cleared and so once again Goliath rests. The tomb is now home to 3 lost souls. In the corner an aged Justinian hunches, his yellow eyes darting over his new home. His neck lies exposed, a bite mark made years ago by his master, who left him to live out his days in ruin. In life he was called “the great” - now he will be called, “The Black Death.”

“And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.”

From the Masque of Red Death – Edgar Allan Poe

Watch it man!

1986 was a great year in comics. There were two masterpiece's that came out that year - Frank Millers The Dark Knight and Alan Moore's Watchmen. A lot of people have said that Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight was the equivalent of adapting Miller's comic book. So that left the Watchmen as the final comic source to be untapped - until now. Watchmen has be made in to a feature film. A lot of people thought that the comic was un-filmable - and I agree - the comic is so filled to the brim with subtle details, flashbacks and time changes, supplemental material, and characters that you have to read slowly and repeatedly to soak it all in and to "get it". I've read Watchmen over the years about 11 or 12 times and each time I come away with something I missed before. The comic is a complete masterwork from both Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons. It is the Citizen Kane of comics. Every thing after it stands on its shoulders.

Last Sunday I saw the film based on my favorite comic of all time. I sat there for 3 hours and the time seem to fly by. There was Rorschach and Dr Manhattan up on the screen. Two characters that I grew up with but that most people didn't even know they existed. I smiled at the scenes taken directly from the comic panels. The nerd in me loved seeing the comic come to life - but did the film work? Parts of it did, and parts of it didn't. Part of me wondered, "why even make this story a movie? It was written about the comic book universe, not the Hollywood/film one." And to me that is the real problem I have with the movie - the story is meant only for comic book readers. Period.

When Alan Moore wrote this story 20 some odd years ago, he wrote it with 50 years of Comic Book history in mind. The original story he pitched to DC comics was written with the purpose of using Charlton Comic's Characters: The Blue Beatle, The Question, The Shield, Captain Atom, all with years of history and continuity. DC decided that they didn't want to lose any of these characters in Alan's story due to death, so they persuaded him to create all new characters. Alan agreed. So with these new superheroes, Alan told his story - "what if superheroes really existed in our world?" What changes and ramifications would that have on our history? The comic world ate it all up. Watchmen was a watershed in the industry. It delt with not only superheroes but with the genre as a whole. Watchmen was tailor-made to be told via comic book panels. Alan and Dave stuck to the 9 panel grid, a very E.C Comics layout. With sticking to this format they could properly set up tension and suspense, and be in total control of everything - including the reader. This is the main reason that the word "un-filmable" was ever thrown out there. Countless writers over the last 20 years have tried to write a screenplay that captures the essence of what Watchmen is about and they all failed. Not that they were bad writers but because the story isn't meant for film. Any film adaption of this comic would automatically lose half of the essence of the story - regardless of how great the screenplay and direction was.

But, along comes Zack Synder. His last movie a comic book adaption "300" was a hit, so being the bad ass that he is he took on the Everest of comic book movies. He got the backing to film Watchmen his way - and I gotta say, the end result is as close as anyone would have ever gotten. The essence is there at times. There are scenes that are better then the how they played out in the comic. Hearing the dialog come to life by the actor that plays Rorschach is awesome and gave me goose bumps. Here, all these years later, I get to hear this character talk and see him move, not in my mind, but up there in on the screen. But yeah, half of what made Watchmen great is gone, and cannot be filmed. The pacing, the dread, the quiet moments, the foreshadowing, the symbolism hidden in the tiniest corner of the comic panel - all of it missing.

Watchmen also may have been made too early, believe it or not. When the comic came out, it carried with it 50 plus years of comic book history with it. Everything was based on that history and the readers instantaneously recognized these characters and the way they "did things in the comic book world". It was what made Watchmen a hit. Without that history the comic has no meaning. And so with the film, really there has only been about 8 or 9 years of comic book film history - starting with the first X-Men movie. That film opened the doors to adapting comics and making big bucks: Iron Man, The Hulk, Spider-Man, Batman Begins, The age of comic book films has just started. Watchmen is suppose to deconstruct those films, but it's too early for that. The movie going audience hasn't quite lived with these characters and their world long enough yet. And I think Zack knew this and as a result he tried to appeal to an audience that just wasn't ready. It's too flashy in parts. Too slick. I think if another 10 years had pasted before it was made in to films Watchmen would be a much better movie.

Good, Bad, and Ugly, we now have Watchmen to throw in the Bluray whenever we are too lazy to pick up the Graphic Novel - and that is pretty cool.

-Erik

Red Giant - Part 3

RED GIANT
Part 3: The Nuptials of Attila

451 AD – The edge of the Rhine River
The fire seem to draw the men in. It’s dancing flames called to them like a deadly lover, wanting to embrace them forever. Around the fire they sat - drinking, eating, resting - all of them thinking about the coming morn, when they would ride into Germany and tread upon the Catalaunian Plains. Warriors all of them. Conquerors.

Attila finished his meal and threw the bones into the crackling fire. He had had his fill first and the six men around the fire would soon follow suit. By his side, his trusted commander Hekter did not partake in the meal, instead he kept his watchful eye on events outside of their little circle. The night had to be watched – always.

Buatoon took a bite of meat and while chewing said, "Ey, give us a story someone. A good ,bloody story to help past the night. I grow restless for my sword."

There was a bit of rumbling from the others, and then a sound none of them expected came almost from within the fire itself, "I have a tale."

It was Attila.

Buatoon turned to Attila and muttered, "I...I did not mean you great Attila. I would never demand anything from you."

"No. It is fine. I do have a tale if you would like to hear it. It is of my Father, and Grandfather. And yes, it ends in blood." Attila’s face glowed and he moved closer to the heat.

Looking at his comrades, they all seemed as surprised as him, Buatoon stuttered again "Y...yes my lord. Please tale the tale."

Attila leans back and adjusts his sword so that it won’t dig into his side and begins...

"Soon after the great flood my grandfather Nimrod was one of the first mighty men to show the true weakness of the Christian God. Through his power, Nimrod ruled a vast empire, of which the city of Babylon was the crown jewel. Babylon flourished back in those days, so much so that it was home to Nimrod’s greatest achievement – the Tower of Babel. This tower was his show of spite for a God that held no meaning for his people. Years and years of construction and the tower loomed over all. To speed the process Nimrod recruited men from far away lands. Men that could not speak the same language but had a common goal. Likeminded not in language but in spirit. But there were traitors amongst them. Men of low character that plotted against Nimrod and succeeded in bringing the tower down. Only rubble is left in Babylon where the tower once proudly stood. This broke my grandfathers will. Along with the tower, Nimrod was crushed and would never recover. In his depression he called upon his mother, Shemiramis. She comforted him in this troubling time and gave him reassurance in his greatness. Nimrod, feeling his days were numbered and without an heir, bedded Shemiramis. She gave birth to my father Mundzuk – a full-blooded heir to the kingdom. My father ruled with an iron fist. His power is legendary, but with all his greatness there was one thing lacking in Mundzuk – his ability to seed his wives. Over many years, and countless attempts, his longing for a son failed. In disgrace he would kill each of his wives, in a way taking his anger and disappoint in himself out on them. Soon no women would wed my father for fear of death. Many years passed and Mundzuk grew weary, he needed a powerful and strong heir – but how? And from whom? He, much like his father before him, turned to his mother and a sorcerer from the east. The sorcerer told him there was one who could produce such a powerful heir that history would recall his name for eternity. Mundzuk demanded to know the name of the man that would supply such an heir. "Goliath." spoke the sorcerer.

My father and his mother traveled to where the great giant rested, armed with the sorcerer’s instructions. Goliath, the Philistine warrior that David slew, now forever in service to the living subjugator’s of the Christian God, took Mundzuk’s mother over and over. Out of his loins spewed the venom of the ages. The night was long. Soon thereafter my father had his heir – I Attila, whose true father rests in the earth with a face of the wolf and the voice of hell, was born under skies like tonight. Mundzuk’s mother did not survive the birth. Her body delivered back to Goliath, for whatever purpose he had in store for her."

The men around the dying fire stare at Attila. Not sure of what they just heard. Their eyes glazed and hypnotized.

Attila continued, "Many years later, Mundzuk told me this tale. He instructed me to never speak of my heritage. That people must not know of whom, and of where, I came from. With his instructions I murdered him then and there. Much like I will now murder you all."

Attila moves like a jackal, unsheathing his sword like mercury. The men have no time – Attila performs exactly 4 moves and their heads fall to the ground. Blood sprays the air and dances in the sky. Attila looks upward to the crescent moon and the two stars within its cradle. The falling blood begins to speckle his face.

"Who breathed on the king cold breath?
Said a voice amid the host,
He is Death that weds a ghost,
Else a ghost that weds with Death?
Ildico's chill little hand
Shuddering he beheld: austere
Stared, as one who would command
Sight of what has filled his ear:
Plucked his thin beard, laughed disdain.
Feast, ye Huns! His arm be raised,
Like the warrior, battle-dazed,
Joining to the fight amain.
Make the bed for Attila!"

From the Poem, "The Nuptials of Attila"