10,000 Days in the Fire

For the sake of drudgery, but in also honoring the last decade’s most intriguing noise, I want to talk about a record I’ve never been able to truly understand. This record came out in 2006, right around my musical maturity and is one of the more cryptic records I have ever heard. Or at least that is what I could assume if I’m discussing Tool’s 10,000 Days.

I am not going to dig interpretation out of this record, because Maynard James-Keenan, chief songwriter and vocalist, is so clearly avoiding the straightforward that mind-altering drugs might be the only way to truly answer it. (Of course, that answer would probably be “wrong,” since Keenan also tends to look down on the idea of ridiculous interpretation into a puzzle.) However, it is still a massively fascinating record for the cult of personality of Keenan and the raging throng behind the band’s work.

To sum it up in a paragraph for the uninitiated: Tool’s uniqueness is in their mix of psychedelia and experimental metal. They have weird time signatures, which means everything for people really into music (well, the art of playing music) and absolutely nothing for anyone who are really into music but can’t touch an instrument (or myself). Moreover, the band’s work is appreciated most by a mix of metalheads and stoners (sometimes these counter-act).

I still remember that three stoned men once had a Rattler that blared “Rosetta Stoned” for like half the night at a pool hall I used to frequent. I think that’s an example of how strange it was to see me at a pool hall during high school regardless, though. Nonetheless, it showed me the strange disconnect between the fandom and the content, especially on 10,000 Days.

“Vicarious” is a savage attack on the constant stream of violence in the media, which versus the typical cliché of the metal fan, it almost seems a direct attack of the very fans that support Tool’s music. Moreover, “Wings for Marie” and “10,000 Days” are combined as a sprawling 17-minute tribute to Maynard’s departed mother Judith, and plays with literal ideas of spirituality. Maynard notes that Judith “might’ve told a lie, but never lived one” essentially noting the 10,000 day process of her coma which led to her eventual passing. Maynard refers to himself in referring to how Judith “saved a life,” which is a much deeper read than anything that normally is expected or cliched about stoned rock. This is literally a son eulogizing his mother and calling her the most valid reason for his existence.

So maybe it is interpretable after all. And maybe Keenan is more literal than I expected. Hmmm.

by Trey Irby

Bite Sized World

She wakes up early and reads the local paper. She sips her coffee and smiles as she passes the refrigerator doors that are filled with pictures of her grandchildren, Christmas cards, and decade old clippings of their favorite sayings and comics, Family Circus and Snoopy. There is no need to make more coffee, there is plenty for both of them.

 

He scruffily stretches as he pulls the sheets unevenly yet crisply to one side of the bed. He knows his effort, not his perfection, is admired. He arranges the pillows the same as how he placed them the morning before and shuffles down the hall to sit next to her for their breakfast.

 

She warms the toast and cuts a plate of tomatoes. He fixes his cup of coffee, black in his favorite light blue mug with “#1 Dad” inscribed across the front of it that she set out on the counter for him the night before.

 

They are living and breathing within themselves and through each other. They have molded their wakings, their mornings, their routines to compliment one another. As much as they tease and quarrel between themselves, they find each other synchronized, yet not in a meticulous, rigid way. They are acts that pull, stretch, strengthen, and weaken their heartstrings. The heart’s beat is not her own nor his own, but their own.

Their hands are are weathered and tired, yet soft and strong. And although wrinkles and creases fill every loose patch of skin, their green eyes light up with joy and love as they tell a corny joke, even if the teller has to repeat it again for the other to hear. They laugh at their age and she always reminds him that it’s just a number.

 

Getting the mail, taking out the trash, and going to the office have become tasks of the day which are very important to him. She has decided to keep up with the times, so she checks her email and plays some computer games. She bickers a little as she sweeps up the bit of dirt he brought in from watering his garden the day before.

 

As we grow older, our worlds shrink. The little things become the big things. The big things, the money, the place in society, the chaos, the thingy things, just seem to melt into the walls.

 

Perhaps for us, we have some tranquility to look forward to as we age in time.

In our current world, although it might seem lost, love is still alive.

 

by Kinsey Russell

I’m Attempting To Write A Story: Introduction

Denny Dengler was not a peculiar young man. Ten fingers belonged to his hands, ten toes to his feet, and two eyes were placed neatly on his ordinary face. His coarse brown hair remained elegantly disheveled upon his unremarkable head and a typical pair of eyeglasses rested on his typical nose. The mysterious mystery of genetics and heredity had not dealt Denny an unfair hand -he was just plucked from the middle of the deck. He was not plagued by a horrible mutation; there were no extra limbs or digits to be found and no unruly hunch riding his back. If you pull out your high school yearbook, look amongst your classmates, and see that quiet, shy, coy, introverted, etc., kid that you had forgotten about over the years, well, that was Denny. He was no charmer. He once, when he was only six years old, tried to eagerly impress his childhood crush with a freshly learnt -but a not as nearly practiced as it should have been- magic trick, only to see her flee in horror as his, previously mentioned, elegantly disheveled crop burst into flames. Denny, then, no longer felt the need to impress the impressive opposite sex. He was described by those who knew him best as “tall, but not too tall” and, often times, “short, but not too short”. Denny Dengler was the type of person that fell between the cracks, and actually liked it down there. He thrived off of mediocrity, bran-flavored granola bars, and unsweetened tea, but -and this is one of those rather large “buts”- one night everything simply changed.

It came and went with a boom and a thud. Denny Dengler was no more, or so it seemed. As three rather hefty middle-aged men lifted the remnants of what used to be Denny’s humble abode out of a seemingly gigantic crater, they noticed something quite peculiar. This was the first time in his life that the word “peculiar” had been used to describe Denny, but he, unfortunately, did not know of it. Plastered underneath the gigantic space rock that consumed his house lay Denny Dengler’s sneakered foot -luckily, it was attached to his leg, his leg to his torso, and his torso to his unremarkable cranium. The boy named Denny Dengler was alive…

by Tyler Marshall

Pens

How many of us actually give a thought to the type of pen we use on a daily basis?

I know for the longest time I used anything that wrote. Every time I went back to classes in grade school, I’d get hand cramps from gripping the pen too hard, and being forced to press down. I always had to ‘adjust’ back to abusing my hand.

It turns out, the answer was to switch to fountain pens. Or at least a better quality of pen. I’ve drawn up a primer to explain the different types, and their quality/amount of wear on yourself.

We’ll start with ballpoints. These are the cheap pens people give away. The ones you can find in pen cups galore. I’m quite convinced these things reproduce asexually when we’re not looking, as somehow I have a ton, but never buy any. They actually cause fun things like callouses, hand cramps, and fatigue from pressing down on paper. I avoid them, unless they’re very well-made, or write smoothly. But most have sub-par ink, that comes out greyish, sickly, instead of black.

Next are gel/rollerball pens. These take less effort to write  and the inks look much nicer than the grey that most ballpoints put out. They still require a little pressing down, and the inks in them tend to run out very quickly. (Usually mine last 2-5 months, depending on how much I rotate them.) An example would be the Pilot V5 or V7. Both are fantastic pens.

Lastly are fountain pens. Literally, they’re the “fancy pens” as my friends refer to them. But they write wonderfully, and the inks can literally be mixed to match your favorite color. They also aren’t much more expensive than regular pens, or rollerballs. They do have to be refilled once a week or so, the ink runs out quickly, but a bottle is $10~, and a single bottle can last years.

The sheer amount of creativity that a fountain pen allows me, from the color of ink, to the shape of the nib (on all pens, this is the part you write with), it’s staggering. There’s also no better way to do calligraphy. It can be done with specialized markers, but those dry out easily.

I have noticed, that with each “upgrade” I gained greater stamina in writing, it made my handwriting neater, more legible, and instead of having to push down on the paper, the nib simply glides over it.

Of course, there are downsides to fountain pens, namely the fact that it doesn’t work on tissue-thin paper, and it doesn’t do well on glossy paper, but there are other pens made for that–we’re going for a writing experience here, not “I have to write this down so I’m going to do it with whatever.”

I personally enjoy the tactile sensation of pen to paper. Most of the time my writing is done on paper, in a notebook or on loose leaf, and then typed up if I deem it good enough. Other than that, they get bound away in a folder or put with my journals.

Handwriting, at least nice handwriting, is a dying practice. Classes that used to focus on penmanship have been replaced with typing classes. Instead of writing notes to one another, young people now text. Hand-writing something out is a last resort. Very few people bother keeping a handwritten journal, and even though most of us write notes down…how many of us have said “I’m the only one that can read my writing” before? Myself, I can barely remember how to do cursive and tend to stick with print.

So perhaps, all that’s needed to bring fine handwriting and the enjoyment in the action back is better pens, pens that don’t require abuse of our hand muscles to use on a daily basis. Whaddya think?

For more:

Basic info on pens and types of pens: Try Wikipedia. seriously. They have some good articles on types of fountain pen filling systems.

Places to get pens:

Rollerballs are available at most major office supply retailers. Officemax has the best selection I’ve seen. For fountain pens, I suggest ebay for a cheap Chinese one such as a Bookworm or Duke, or Fuliwen–all of these run under or about $10 with shipping, and then a bottle of ink can be had for $12 or less. I suggest you start with Noodler’s Bulletproof(it’s waterproof and fadeproof) Black.

There are also several blogs dedicated to pens:

http://www.penaddict.com/ is one, there’s plenty of reviews to comb through, and recommendations for all types of pens.

http://goodpens.blogspot.com/ is another.

http://roossinck.wordpress.com/ has a great series of entries known as “Great Pens Under $__” starting at $10, and going up to $100.

Until next time.

by Jonel Burge

The Funkiest-Electronic-Dance-Groovalicous Time You Have Ever Experienced

I don’t know if anyone has realized this yet, but I love music. I listen to a good mix of genres, and I like to think that I’m fairly well listened. But about two years ago I discovered something unlike anything I’ve ever heard before.

I was at Voodoo Fest waiting for a band to start that a friend had recommended to me.  The band had been gaining popularity quickly over the past few years, and was now on one of the main stages. There were only a handful of people in front of the stage and we were able to get pretty close with ease. And about that time the magic began.

A cloud of smoke slowly made its way over the stage and towards the crowd. I could just barely make out the silhouettes of two people walking across the stage, and it looked like one was wearing a cape.  The stopped moving, and the bass began to thump.

The next hour and a half was filled with more smoke, one of the most amazing light shows I’ve ever seen, and a type of music that defies any single genre. It was fantastic.

Ghostland Observatory uses a mixture of funk, electronic, techno, dance, and rock and wields it like  a sword chopping your head off and replacing it with a sound so incredible it is impossible not to enjoy it.

Ghostland Observatory has become one of my all time favorite bands. I’ve been to 3 of there shows, and ever time I leave amazed and astounded at what they have been able to create. Their sets are about 15 songs long, and even though they only have 3 albums worth of music to draw from every set is unique and awe-inspiring.

It really hard to describe Ghostland Observatory. Their suber-fans called observers are as unique as the music they love, from your old school hippie types to neo-funketeers. No matter who your near though they are always dancing and having a great time.

The videos on Youtube don’t quite capture the full effect because of quality, but check out  the song . It is truly amazing.

by Nico Jenkot

Getting graphic…

My goodness! Has the world forgotten about graphic novels?

It seems that in the influx of high caliber technological advancement of the recent decade, computer generated animation and movies that are overly saturated with special effects and sappy dialogue have become the only truly popular methods of entertainment. Nothing is wrong with these mediums, of course (well, the sappy dialogue does become a bit…taxing to the patience now and again), and the ever efficient novel/ prose piece will never fade into obscurity. However, it appears that no one is really talking about comics anymore. If it is not manga, it is not mentioned. Moreover, if it was not written by Neil Gaiman, Frank Miller, or Alan Moore, it is seldom thought about. (You earn extra HP if you recognized the name “Alan Moore”).

Not long ago, high caliber, story driven sequential art based novels rocked the cult world, held ridiculous sales figures, forced movie adaptations, and literally sapped up the time of those who obsessed over them. Now, somehow, the media has allowed Gaiman and Miller to monopolize America’s Graphic Novel attention span without actually doing so. These two superstars have managed to hog multiple movies and countless hours of television time and Americans have basically forgotten about everything else related to epic, sequentially rendered tales.

Good thing I’m here to share information with you, huh?

Now, as my current tone makes me appear to think far more of myself than I actually do, allow me to introduce a few titles to you that could—and should be of interest.

Early this year, David Zane Mairowitz and Chantal Montellier revisited a Franz Kafka classic, The Trial, adapting the existentialist piece into a stunning graphic novel. Kafka’s tale focuses on Joseph K, a Peter Parker like personality who works as a bank clerk, lives an average life, and does nothing remarkable by any means. For Joseph’s thirtieth birthday, he is arrested without explanation. Upon questioning his accusers, he discovers that not even his bed ridden and otherwise useless defense attorney is able to explain to him the reasoning behind his arrest and trial. This dark tale explores the issues of freedom and individualism, and the work has become known as a strong literary classic.

Its graphic interpretation is no different. It is the most recent installment in a recent line of graphic novel adaptations of literary masterpieces. Preceding it are attempts at The Iliad, Crime and Punishment, and Moby Dick, just to name a few. While I am not too crazy for the style in which the work is drawn, The Trial is very well done. Rendered in grayscale, its panels have a very messy, illogical, insane feel to them, just as does the novel’s text. While some of the pages follow a standard format, others are simply crazy. In a few instances, random skeletal figures, flying objects, etc, make appearances and completely alter the composition of the story. The insanity of the adaptation works well, though. Anyone who does any amount of reading, whether preferring comics or prose, should immediately pick up this work.

Secondly, check out the Steve Niles and Elman Brown adaptation of Richard Matheson’s  I Am Legend. Niles and Brown take the novel and transfer it, piece by piece, into a dark, beautifully rendered masterpiece in which no dialogue is lost and even the most insignificant actions of protagonist Robert Neville are included. This is seriously one of the best—if not the very best—graphic novels that I have ever even thought about reading. It is fast paced, yet still very detailed and thoughtful, and although it boasts a grim nature overall, I Am Legend is startlingly whimsical. The contrast of the art in the novel helps bring the tale to life. While many of the pages hold lightly rendered drawings that belie the tale’s dark nature, other deep, heavier panels hammer home the mood of the work. It is very well paced, very well written, and very much in need of being read by you.

Do it.

 

 

by Ryan Davis

3 AM Chatter About Eddie Argos

(The following is background info that makes all of this make sense. Eddie Argos is the vocalist of British art-rockers Art Brut. Eddie is the voice of the band in that he writes almost all of the songs, and he is also the vocalist, which is kind of a loose term considering he shout-speaks on every Art Brut song. A lot of this is conversational. A lot of this might confuse you. If you are confused, just know that I am a geek for this man and I’d be able to answer any inquiries very quickly.)Around 9:30 PM: Bottletree, October 22nd.

So we get there, friends and whatnot and first me and female friend freak out because he walked from the front entrance back to the tour bus. He returned out the same way shortly and I did freak out.

There was a merch table (as is commonplace in rock shows) and he and Jasper and…someone else, I think Mike [Breyer, the band's drummer], were trading spots at points. And so me and her went up to meet him. (He had a fabulous coat.) I made a comment about how she thinks I look a lot like Eddie (which she does). And I shook his hand.

And then I made a comment about Jasper being picked on.

It went like:

Me: “Why do you guys pick on Jasper so much?”

Eddie: “Because he’s an idiot.”

I laughed the hardest I laughed in my entire life. I am disappointed I didn’t get to talk (pro) wrestling with the guy, but I shook the man’s hand and I bought an awesome Art Brut shirt, so I felt I gave enough support.

Around 11:00 PM (after opening act Princeton finished their set):

The show itself truly started with…I think it was “Bad Weekend”. (One of the songs from their first album Bang Bang Rock and Roll. It kind of defines itself in what it is about, but it’s more Eddie being depressed that he doesn’t like “popular culture.”) And he went into a rant midway about how he went to a record shop and it sold computer games and DVDs. And basically, he didn’t want that. He had some douzies as far as stage banter goes. He did “Modern Art” (a song that is also simply defined as “Eddie loves modern art”), but he changed it to “DC Comics.” Like as in, it sounded like “Modern Art” but it was DC comics based as a valid excuse to tell a five minute in-song story about going to DC Comics. Eddie’s favorite comic Booster Gold was mentioned.

Around 11:30 PM:

Eddie then just said, “A girl yelled for ‘Nag Nag Nag Nag’ so let’s play it.” (Again, defines itself. It’s about Eddie feeling he is a nag to his girlfriend.) Oh, I’m a poor narrator, but around the time of the DC Comics rant, Eddie went into the crowd. That was pretty awesome. Sadly, the attendence sucked a bit. There was maybe 100. I doubt Eddie himself minded, though, Bottle Tree doubles as a bar.And he drank a lot. And Mike got a pie in his face. And twice he left where I was when I’d randomly yell a greeting by saying “I’ll be back in a second.”

Oh, Eddie noted that he was going to “sing sexy” on “Rusted Guns of Milan.” Which he proceeded to sing normally and then noted “Well, it’s kind of hard to sing sexy on a song about erectile dysfunction.” But oddly, I can’t remember much of the banter. I did know that Eddie was half drunk, which made him wonderful.

Around 12:25 AM:

The show ended and I went to the merch stand and bought a shirt from the female bassist, I forget her name. (Freddy Feedback is her name.) Jasper [Future, guitarist and backing vocals] isn’t hard to miss. And more people did cheer for the regular “Modern Art” over “DC Comics makes me want to rock out.” But Eddie said “A big scary man cheered for ‘DC Comics’ so we’ll play it.” And after the song, he said “Well, that big scary man I realized was our T-shirt stand.” It was wonderful that he basically admitted the polling was bull—-, and it was insignificant, because otherwise, we would not get the DC Comics rambling mid-song. Nonetheless, that was it. They did the encore and did “Formed A Band” and “Bang Bang” and it was glorious. And I kind of wished we stayed, but Eddie might’ve been beyond drunk at this point. So pictures were probably out of the question.

Anyways, I think I am heading to bed now. It’s been a long day. Take care.

 

by Trey Irby

Everything Pumpkin!

“Vegetables are a must on a diet. I suggest carrot cake, zucchini bread, and pumpkin pie. – Jim Davis.

It looks like Jim Davis has the right idea. Cake, bread, and pie included in a diet (and pumpkin pie at that).

I love fall. I love the swirls of orange and yellow that the trees have so graciously welcomed. I love dragging out last season’s sweaters and jackets (and finding money in the pockets). I love taking refuge in a warm bed with heavy blankets. I love candles that smell like some wonderful dessert that just emerged from the oven. Speaking of desserts and ovens, this leads me to my favorite thing about fall: FOOD.

The cooler weather emerges and so does a rush of a wonderful crop: Pumpkins!! Here are some quick and easy ways to get the most out of your pumpkin!

Pumpkins  

Each year, over a billion pounds of pumpkins are grown in the United States. Americans literally take advantage of every inch of this popular seasonal fruit (yes, it is a fruit which completely disproves the quote at the beginning of this article).

• Pumpkin Carving

We have the Irish to thank for this popular Halloween tradition. According to legend, a drunken Irish farmer, Jack, made a deal with the devil which resulted in being turned down from entering Heaven or Hell. Jack was then forced to wander the darkness of purgatory. To guide his lost soul, Jack made an o’lantern from a turnip and lump of burning coal. Subsequently, Irish communities would create their own turnip lamps to scare away Jack and any other evil spirits. The Irish then traded turnips for pumpkins after discovering an abundance of the crop growing in North America.

But wait…don’t throw away those seeds and pulp!

• Pumpkin Seeds

Roasted pumpkin seeds are a quick and easy snack that can be prepared a number of ways to suit your taste buds.

(Lawry’s Seasoning Salt and Crystal Hot Sauce)

My personal favorite, it gives the seeds a slight kick. Plus it leaves a nice aroma in your kitchen!

• 1. Pre-heat oven to 300 degrees.
  2. Remove the seeds and wash them thoroughly with water, washing away any pulp. Drain.
  3. Place the seeds on a baking sheet lined with foil.
  4. Pour Crystal’s Hot Sauce generously over the seeds.
  5. Lightly sprinkle Lawry’s Seasoning Salt on top of the seeds.
  6. Bake for 10-15 minutes.
  7. Let cool. Enjoy!

• Pumpkin Pulp

There are many wonderful recipes that you can use with pumpkin puree. If a recipe calls for 15 ounce can of pumpkin, just use 2 cups of fresh pumpkin puree instead.

Here is a personal favorite of mine: Pumpkin Cheesecake

(Thanks to Kori for making this wonderful dessert and sharing a slice, and the recipe!)

Paula Deen’s Pumpkin Cheesecake

Ingredients

Crust:

• 1 3/4 cups graham cracker crumbs
• 3 tablespoons light brown sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1 stick melted salted butter

Filling:

• 3 (8-ounce) packages cream cheese, at room temperature
• 1 (15-ounce) can pureed pumpkin (Or 2 Cups of fresh pumpkin puree)
• 3 eggs plus 1 egg yolk
• 1/4 cup sour cream
• 1 1/2 cups sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/8 teaspoon fresh ground nutmeg
• 1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
• 2 tablespoon all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

For crust:

In medium bowl, combine crumbs, sugar and cinnamon. Add melted butter. Press down flat into a 9-inch spring form pan. Set aside.

For filling:

Beat cream cheese until smooth. Add pumpkin puree, eggs, egg yolk, sour cream, sugar and the spices. Add flour and vanilla. Beat together until well combined.

Pour into crust. Spread out evenly and place oven for 1 hour. Remove from the oven and let sit for 15 minutes. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 4 hours.

***If this recipe sounds too good to pass up, but you aren’t quite the baker, don’t fear! Olive Garden offers a wonderful version.***

• Pumpkin Spice Latte

I personally think that it’s easier to just run to Starbucks and grab one, but with Starbucks’ rising prices, you may find it cheaper to make one from the comfort of your own home.

Ingredients

• 2 tablespoons canned pumpkin puree
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 2 tablespoons white sugar
• 1 cup milk
• 1/4 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
• 1 (1.5 fluid ounce) jigger brewed espresso

Directions

1. Brew your espresso. Meanwhile, in a small saucepan, whisk together the pumpkin, vanilla, sugar, pumpkin pie spice and milk. Warm over medium heat, whisking constantly, until hot and frothy. Do not bring to a boil. Pour the espresso into a mug and pour the pumpkin spiced milk over it.

Halloween may be over, but pumpkins are still in!

*If you have a favorite pumpkin recipe that you would like to share, I would love to hear about it! Comment below or drop me an email at Justasherrs@gmail.com*

by Ashley Justice

The Grimm Truth Behind the Children’s Tales

Remember the tales of Hansel and Gretel, Snow White, and the Frog Prince?  When I was a child, I wanted to be a princess that wore a golden sash around my waist and carried a sword, hacking through the woods like some kind of jungle trail blazer.  I know my stories are hopelessly mixed together, and indiscriminate hacking would damage my sword, but that’s what I wanted to do.  There’s a darker side to these fairytales, though, that children today rarely hear.  Ever since Wilhelm Grimm penned his multiple editions of the stories Jacob had collected, there have been alterations on the original form to make them more appropriate for children.  There was too much scholarly information clustered within the stories, and grim happenings.  Wilhelm, and later Walt Disney, (as well as all the editors between) revised these stories to center around morals and make everything lighthearted and gay.

It may be a surprise to realize this, but these were not originally meant to be children’s stories.  These were the stories that folks told around the campfire at night after the children had been sent to bed.  Of course there would be sex and ribaldry in them.  And these Europeans knew the world to be a capricious and sometimes cruel place.  These worries are reflected in the text.  The only reason these stories began to evolve into something for kids is because the Brothers Grimm decided to put the name “Children’s Tales”  on their compilation of the stories.

Snow White

The queen in Disney’s Snow White used to be no less a personage than Snow White’s own mother.  When she hired the huntsman to kill her daughter, she asked he bring back her heart and her liver that she might “dine on them tonight,” to which the huntsman readily agreed.  Later in the story, after Snow White’s “death” in the woods with the dwarves, they put her into a class coffin so that people could gaze upon her dead body.  (There must have been some magic in that coffin, because she didn’t start decomposing, but lay as though in sleep.)  The prince came by and decided she was so beautiful he must have the body. (… possibly to decorate his next haunted house?  What would anyone want with a dead body?)  It was only as he carried the coffin away and hit a bump in the road that a bit of the apple in Snow White’s mouth became dislodged and she awoke, frightened in disoriented.  The prince decided to marry her on the spot.  There was no kiss, no courting; he didn’t even give her a chance before he popped the question.  And then they invited her mother to the wedding where they presented her with a pair of iron shoes hot from the fire and bade her to dance the night away.

 

Cinderella

Again, Cinderella’s “step-mother” was originally her biological mother, changed so that people could more readily accept her cruel deeds.  Since the oldest version of the tale I have still has her as a stepmother, I will use that version here.  She had no fairy godmother. Rather she had an affinity with the pigeons that rested in the garden outside- that is they provided the dresses for the three balls.  The king’s son devised a ruse to find Cinderella, for she had disappeared so quickly the previous two nights he was unable to discover who she was.  He covered the stairs in pitch so that when she ran down them, her shoe was left behind. Then the king’s son went with her father the next day to his home to see if the slipper fit any of his daughters.  It didn’t fit the first daughter so her mother gave her a knife and told her to cut off the two because she wouldn’t need to walk once she was a queen.  So first daughter swallowed her pain and tried to fool the prince, but the birds alerted the prince to her tricks.  So he went back and asked for another daughter.  The second cut off her heel to fit her foot into the shoe. This second round of trickery worked and she thought she’d be off to marry the prince.  Again, the birds called the alarm and the prince saw the blood, and he came back to the house.  Were there any other daughters? He wondered.  The father said only, “There is still a little stunted kitchen-wench which my late wife left behind her, but she cannot possibly be the bride.” (This he said of his own daughter, who had allowed the abuse his wife had heaped upon her!)  And so Cinderella was brought out and she tried on the shoe and it fit her like a glove.  So off they went to get married, and the birds flew one on each shoulder, and when the stepdaughters attended the wedding they flew from their mistress’s shoulders like avenging harpies and pecked out their eyes.

 

by Stephanie Miller

Dethklok: The World’s Most Brutal Fake Band, that isn’t?

I’m sure you’ve heard of Dethklok.

If your a fan of Cartoon Network’s late night program Adultswim you’ve at least seen the commercials. This cartoon is based off of Brendan Small’s ideas that led to an extremely fruitful show filled with incredible amounts of violence, blood, and drug use that society loves to see on the T.V. The show focuses around the band’s inability to do simple tasks or really anything that isn’t related to music. This incredible lack of life skills in conjunction with the ridiculous things the band does manage to do (like summoning a lake troll) make for an amazing 15 minute program.

But thats not what I’m concerned with. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the show. But seeing Dethklok live and in person is a wholly different experience.

In the summer of 2008, 2 friends and I managed to get tickets to the Dethklok show in Atlanta, and let me just go ahead and start this by saying, it was pretty much every bit as awesome as it could be. It was at the Tabernacle, which if you’ve never been is a pretty good venue for a metal band. The two opening acts, Soilent Green and Chimera left a lot to be desired. I had a one hell of headache before Dethklok was even set up. But it was worth every minute of pain once Dethklok began.

The crowd was packed tighter than a can of sardines, but once the first song started, which ironically was the title song from the show, several mosh pits erupted at once. It was just the start of the show, and I had lost one of my friends. The band was on stage. There were only a few lights behind them that allowed the crowd to see a silhouette of each member. The main viusal attraction were the 3 large screen above the band. Each screen played the music video that went along with the video. The music video were exceptionally crafted and held the audience captive, but still moving along with the music. By the end of the second song, my other friend had disappeared and I was sandwiched between a few large sweaty guys. Normally not my idea of a “ballin’-ass-time”, but this was just that, and the some.

Dethklok is coming back to Atlanta at the beginning of November. Go to Craiglist and pick up your ticket. Its worth the expense to see the worlds most brutal band.

by Nico Jenkot