Dead Men Tell No Tales

I'm not up-to-date with the laws and rules of this country. I never know what new changes are taking place until I see it on The Daily Show, but that's never a problem for me because, being the good citizen I am, I don't have to worry about breaking the law. I just do good for my fellow man and do what the bible tells me to (more or less) and I have no problems.
And that's a good thing, because it seems like everyone else in this country is getting seriously screwed-over.
I think it's a pretty good assumption that piracy is one of the most, if not THE most, committed "crime" in history. In the event that you indeed have eyes and indeed have at least enough observational skills to notice what color clothes are on your body, you'll probably have caught those quotation marks around "crime" (there they go again!) and get the impression that I don't consider piracy much of a crime. Well here's the thing about that:
Piracy is NOT stealing. BUT, piracy is still WRONG.
I can get why people do pirate things. Not only is it easier, but we're in a time-period where money is not flowing down the streets and most of us don't want to spend money on anything that isn't edible or able to be fashioned into clothing. You could say "Well we all have to make sacrifices" or "if you don't NEED it, then just deal with not having it". What I have to say to these people: YOU try living without any entertainment whatsoever. Life is very depressing without it. If someone wants to play a video game but put those $50+ toward the bills instead, then I can't hate them for it.
That being said, I don't get these brutal punishments for the people who release these things to the public. Distributing copyrighted material can land you up to 5 years in federal prison. Five. YEARS. I get wanting to punish these guys, I really do, and by all means, punish them. But five YEARS? We're talking about a nerd who is sitting in front of their computers sending these files to torrent websites from their basements so that people can have happier lives, and we're gonna send them to prison with his murderous next-door neighbor who drinks needles and has a sexual fetish for knife wounds.
I'll say again: I can get wanting to punish these guys. When a movie company makes something, they do it for money. Sure, there's those who make things purely for the sake of art, but even they need some money to pay for it. That money is what THEY live off of, and distributing THEIR material for FREE is making it MUCH harder for them to do that. Teach these people a lesson, by all means. But goodness, is it REALLY so very necessary to treat them like they are hardened criminals?
"Eddie, you pansy, it's only five years. That's not so bad."
Yes, five years. Five whole entire years that they'll never get back. Even ONE year is a year that they won't be able to spend having a LIFE. What does sending them to jail do, anyway? A child is one thing. You put them in time-out and that teaches that for the rest of their lives that what they did was not good. But these are grown people. They already KNOW that what they're doing is wrong. If you wanna send a killer to prison so that he, I don't know, DOESN'T KILL ANYMORE, then fine. But are you gonna send these distributors to jail to prevent them from pirating? This isn't the 1600's, people; the word pirate is only something to freak out about if a boat is involved, which is very rarely the case nowadays.
If you really wanna teach these guys a lesson, fine them. Fine their butts off and leave it at that. Just take out the prison part.
Hey, you know how you could really teach these guys a lesson? Make them USE the copyrighted material they're distributing over and over and over. I assure you that by the fifth time they watch Epic Movie they'll be begging for a prison cell next to Hannibal Lecter.

My Tongue Has Teeth

By now I’m sure that all the people that read my blog (all 4 of you) have caught on to the fact that I am a very big fan of the Alien series of movies. I’m also sure that all of you (the same 4 I was addressing earlier) are tired of me referencing this series and would probably proceed to hang yourselves if you were to read another. If that is the case, then you should exit out of this browser and go back to playing Neopets or using Facebook or WHATEVER it was you were doing before you came here, because this series is about to get reference’d to death, as It is the main topic for this blog post.
The series itself isn’t necessarily what I love so much (except maybe the 2nd movie, which, to this day, remains my favorite monster movie of all time), but what entrances me about it is the basis of the series. That is, the aliens. I’ll have many who disagree, but I can honestly say that I think that the aliens are THE scariest movie monsters in the history of ever. I'll have many that disagree (only 4 of which that read my blog) and will give me reasons why Godzilla or Count Chocula is a much scarier monster, but my response to that is: how many of your monsters bleed acid? This is just one of the many things that make the aliens so terrifying, but it's as good a place as any to start.
The general theme of monster movies tends to be this: monster(s) get(s) loose, person/people isn't/aren't okay with it, so they want it/them dead. These movies usually end with the monster(s) dying, because it's a bad thing when they're alive. But what if them being dead also causes you a great amount of pain? This was also something I liked about the Predator, the Alien's spiritual brother: when they knew they were going to die, they set off a bomb that could wipe out an entire rain forest. But the aliens still have one up on them, because the predator would have to be ALIVE to set the bomb off. The moment any protagonist(s) in the alien movie(s) shoots the alien(s) in the movie(s), the alien(s) bleed(s) acid blood all over the movie protagonist(s) and they DIE.
I could list all of the alien's other horrifying features, such as a razorblade-like tail, claws that can rend metal, a mandible'd tongue with which they can lodge holes in the heads of victims, offspring that they force down your throat and rip out through your chest after feasting on your heart, and the ability to sprint across walls and leap farther than the world's strongest cheetah, but I don't need a whole page to tell you why they're AWESOME.
The general appearances of the aliens are scarier than most monsters as well. Sure, The Thing (my close number 2 scariest movie monster of all time) was pretty freaking creepy, but it never looked too scary, and it more-so has the appearance of a victim of some odd combination of leprosy and gangrene. The aliens, on the other hand, are creatures that are blacker than night and can camouflage anywhere so long as it's dark. That means you can never have any clue where they're hiding unless you have night vision, and by the time you finally DO spot them they've already spotted you, called their friends and are already feasting on your pancreas before you can say "Wow, Eddie was right, these ARE the scariest movie monsters in the history of ever!"
Let me compare the aliens to some other movie monsters and tell you why they're scarier:

Godzilla and King Kong: These guys are big, but you can SEE their butts easily enough, making it all the easier to shove nuclear missiles up there. The aliens are smaller, but that makes them agile and swifter, with the ability to crawl through ventilation shafts and stalk upon a single victim.

The Blob: While it was able to ooze over and eat anything, but if you turn thermostat below 60 degrees it dies. The aliens need to be set on fire. If they don't die, they just become extremely pissed off. WHILE on fire.

Miley Cyrus: ...

You can argue all you want about why I'm wrong, but you know what? I- OH MY GOD ONE IS IN MY ROOM IT'S EATING MY LEG AAAGGGHHHhaha did I get you?

The Monster Slayer

Last night, I had a dream. I had what might just have been the awesomest dream I’ve ever had. In fact, I think I could go as far as to say it’s the awesomest dream anyone’s ever had. I shall explain this dream in vivid detail. Or not-so-vivid. It’s 11 in the morning and I’m kinda groggy.

I was at my high school. I was being a good little student, sitting next to my gay friend Sarah and listening to the teacher. Then I turned to her and said something that would change my life forever:

“I’m bustin’ outta here.” I dashed out of the classroom as she followed close behind, trying to change my mind. We went down a hallway unfamiliar to me, and we were lost. Panicked, I opened the nearest door, praying that it was a way out. The room was pitch black, and there was no light switch to be found as I crept my hand along the wall. I heard a growling. Horrible, awesome growling. We turned and fled without so much as closing the door behind us.

Somehow, we found our way back to the hallways of the school we actually knew. We didn’t bother going to class (‘cause this is supposed to be an awesome dream and you don’t go to school in awesome dreams) but decided instead to roam the strangely unmonitored hallways, waiting for the bell to ring. Then there was screaming. A lot of screaming.

The hallways were flooding with terrified students in less than half-a-minute. My ears occasionally picked up the word “monster” being thrown around here and there. I looked behind at Sarah, who, judging by the look on her face, was thinking the same exact thing I was. We turned and sped down the English hallway, thinking the source of the commotion was coming from there. Much to my dismay, it was. Standing there, staring at me, was one of the monsters from my beloved Aliens series of movies (probably only known to you because of Aliens vs Predator).

We hastily jumped through the nearest door and slammed it behind us. In the room were three other students I did not know. The monster started fiddling with the doorknob and trying to push its way through. We all came close together and pushed against it, hugging each other and praying it would get bored. Then it came to my attention that I was in my Creative Writing room. It also came to thought that my Creative Writing teacher is a mad woman. She is a mad woman who keeps a sword in her closet. I turned to one of the younger students.

“Go get the sword.” I said to him. He nodded and rushed off. The alien was pushing through the door, its strength far superior to ours. I slid across the floor as it started poking its head through the doorway. The other guy who’s not as important as me rushed to my side and handed me my sword. The alien’s head was fully through the doorway now, and was looking at me. I slashed the sword upwards, missing because of the awkward angle. The alien clawed against my cheek, leaving a mark. I slashed again, accidentally cutting my eyebrow. The alien snapped its jaws at me, missing by only a mere inch. It had half of its body through the doorway, and reared back its head, opened its jaws, and let out a bloodcurdling screech as it prepared to go for the kill. Its head launched downward to snap at my face, but my reflexes were too fast. I jabbed the sword upward, through its head, and backed away, trying to avoid its acid blood. I pulled the sword out.

I ran out into the hallway, beholding a sickening sight: the aliens were everywhere, feasting on my fellow classmates. But I did see a couple guys that really annoyed me. That improved my mood drastically.

I bolted down the hallway, swinging my sword and destroying the beasts as I went. I was unstoppable. Every alien who crossed my path was one that would never have the chance to do so again. I lifted my head and screamed, “I. AM. THE MONSTER SLAYER!!!” In front of me, was the alien queen. I raised my sword and made a dash at her, and-

Then I woke up.

OxyMORON

Sometimes, I have the urge not to complain about anything or state my opinions, but the urge to simply talk about life and ask questions, which is fine because I have a blog on which I can spam my brains out onto. So if you're expecting a thrill-ride of comedy and clever analogies as my previous blogs have been, then you may as well stop reading here.
As I think I've redundantly stated in this blog numerous times, I'm someone whose feelings and opinions have changed throughout the course of his life a great amount. It's not that I can't make up my mind, rather... well, actually, that's kinda it.
I've always been somewhat of a living contradiction. If you read the title of this blog you will see the words "Eddie Wants Fame" (it just occurred to me how hilarious "EWF" sounds) and while that statement is not a lie, it is, at times, very...flexible.
In case you haven't owned a TV within the last 100 or so years, celebrities are people who can't afford to have the hope of living a simple, happy life. Celebrities are people who (the majority, anyhow) cannot stay in a relationship and cannot go to Wendy's without it being on the cover of People magazine. For most of my life, I've been okay with those ideas. The thought of being known and worshiped by all while living an exciting life doing something I love to do has just been a driving force for nearly everything I do. Even if it's not that extreme, it'd be great to walk down the street and have people say, "Oh my God, is that really who I think it is?". Or maybe just go on TV for an interview with Ellen DeGeneres or Good Morning America. I've always only thought about my own future in that one respect, and focused entirely on that one dream.
But since childhood, I've had two ideas that made me happier than anything to think about. These two ideas have been with me forever, and while the first one (my wanting to be famous) has always been my driving force and the one that occupied most of my time, the other one is an extreme contradiction to it. The one thing in my life that's competed with my dream for fame has been the dream of having a normal life.
Now, I'm completely aware that the reasons why this is really stupid are immediately apparent to anyone reading this. It's an oxymoron to say that you want to be famous and still lead a normal life. It's like saying you want to be a pilot who never flies.
Maybe it's just my basic human instinct that makes me want such a thing as to live "normally". Perhaps it's just in my DNA that I want to have a simple career that pays well yet I still enjoy, and settle down with a beautiful woman in a nice house with kids and live the rest of my days in simplicity, only ever worrying about the same things that any other American has to deal with. The thought of waking up in the morning to see a woman I'm married to and maybe spending the day doing nothing extremely significant to anything other than my enjoyment makes me happy beyond belief.
So... what is a guy to do when he wants to be known by all but also wants to live a life where the only people who know him are the people that he knows?
Obviously such a thing is, to some degree, achievable. There are stars and well-known people who live relatively normal lives and just go day to day spending their time with their loved ones. But that's one of those gambles that would be very unwise to bet on. I know that perhaps if I found some sort of job that brought a degree of well-known...ness, that I could maybe do from home or not have to go very far, then that would work just fine. But once more, that doesn't leave me with much. Being the ignorant teenager I am, I know of no such careers unless you live in a place like New York or California. Not to mention, having such an open-ended goal doesn't quite give me the motivation that "I want to be a movie star" does. It doesn't give me a place to start, it doesn't give me any ideas for something to major in when I'm off to college, and it doesn't give me anything to prepare for while I still have time.
Thank goodness I'm still young and I DO still have time. But when the clock is ticking and college approaches nearer and nearer, that soon brings very little comfort.

Part II

Every human being goes through phases of likes and dislikes. At one point in life, you may like broccoli, while later you may find that you're in love with Lincoln Logs. Something that's always held a very, very special place in my heart is film.
I'm not a film snob. I haven't seen over a billion movies that you've never heard of. But I have seen a lot of movies in my time, and loved them, and hated them. So, they tend to be something I'm very passionate about. When I critique a film, I try to take into consideration its good and its bad. Having said all that, let's move on:
I'm a ginormous fan of the Alien series, or at least, I used to be. I was introduced to it late in my life, but that's fine because a movie series like that opens up your eyes and makes you look at the world from a whole new perspective. I'd like to say that the movie series opened up my eyes to how the world is a beautiful, wonderful place full of great ideas and originality, and that WAS my view up to Aliens (the lazily-named part 2 in the series). Watching this series up to that point was a magnificent roller coaster of excitement and grandeur that was nice enough to give me free ice cream and high-fives every now and then. But when Alien 3 came around the ice cream had started going bad, as if taken from a very pissed off cow and processed by an ice cream factory staffed entirely by Republicans, and the high-fives were great until my hands started turning red and blistering and by that point I was begging to get off. High-fives are meant to signify momentous occasions and a high-five every three seconds just becomes a nuisance, which is exactly what Alien 3 was.
There were great movies like Aliens or The Matrix that left me waiting with baited breath to watch the sequel. Being the ignorant fool I was, I thought to myself, "It is physically impossible that a movie this amazing could ever have a bad sequ-" before I could finish that sentence I was five minutes into the next movie and I had the overpowering urge to go shove my head in a bucket of ice cubes and needles.
I don't hate ALL sequels, because there are plenty of good ones that I like, but Alien 3 was a perfect example of Hollywood’s greatest flaw when it comes to these: trying to turn a movie into something it’s just not meant to be. Why do SO many people think that in order for a movie to be as good as Braveheart or Gladiator they HAVE to kill off the main character in the end? (SPOILER,by the way) Sure it works sometimes and can add to the drama, but a lot of times that’s just not the turn the movie is supposed to take, especially when you’ve killed everything likeable about the character in that very same movie. It’s like an American actor trying to speak with a British accent. *cough* ROBERT DOWNEY JR. *cough*
This also applies to the Indiana Jones series, because as fantastic as those movies were in my childhood, part 4 was just not very good, since it crossed off nearly EVERYTHING on the “how to be as unoriginal as possible” Hollywood movie checklist. I heard they’re making an Indiana Jones 5, and the very idea just gives me the urge to go to Hollywood and throw a camera at someone, kick Uwe Boll in the face, then forget what I was doing there in the first place and hang out with Johnny Depp at the nearest coffee shop. It is typical by this point of popular franchise-Gods like George Lucas to give us further proof they forgot what it’s like to have an original idea, which I guess would make sense seeing as they don’t need originality to rule their vast armies of acne-ridden, anime-loving losers who probably outnumber our actual government officials at least 8 to 1, but as I’ve already stated I’m tired of seeing something good try to be something it’s not, ruined just for the sake of more money. It’s like a British actor trying to speak with an American accent. *cough*EverysingleactorintheUSmovieindustry*cough*

This rant is pretty useless when it gets down to it not only because I’m pretty much beating a dead horse with another dead horse but because this trend in movies will never end. People have ideas that they just shouldn’t have, and the call of a couple trillion dollars more is too enticing to pass up for them despite that a sequel will most likely just kill off everything like-able about the original. But they know people with watch their crap and they decide it’s worth the sacrifice and viola: we have a Ghostbusters 3. It’s thanks to geniuses like Quentin Tarantino and Peter Jackson that movies are still even worth watching. Without them we’d have no choice but to deal with garbage like Titanic 5 and The Godfather 6. Even worse, we'd probably have to deal with George Lucas shoving tons of useless Star Wars garbage down our throa-
Wait a second...

Dear Blair Witch,

I'm not a confrontational guy. My close friends (and not-as-close friends) already know this about me, because it's pretty obvious. I'd much rather take someone out to buy some coffee than punch him in the face because he spilled my coffee. I suppose you could call me a pacifist, but that would not be entirely correct because I personally think any man willing to simply stand there and take a punch to the jaw is indeed quite manly, but also moron. A little self-defense I think is fine now and again.
But... what do you do if it's a woman, and you're a guy (kinda like I am)?
One would most likely say "EQUALITY OF THE SEXES" right before running off to go punch his girlfriend in the face or going to make a sandwich for her boyfriend, but as much as I think women should be given the same rights as men, I do not think a woman is something to be...punched. Or slapped. Or kicked. Or noogied.
Well, maybe noogied.
But let me get to my point before you are brought to tears from sheer boredom: in my Creative Writing class, there is a girl. This girl has a name, but because I feel it would be rude talking about a girl behind her back and using her real name (that and I don't know the PROPER way to spell it) I call her the Blair Witch. Get it? Because her name is Blair. Like from the Blair Witch Project. And 'cause she's a witch.
AND 'CAUSE I HATED THAT MOVIE.
Moving on.
This is a female that came to my school and joined the Creative Writing class the same day I did. Now, at first, I had no problem with her. "Aha, a fellow pupil to my new class of all writings creative!" I said to myself. "I cannot wait to become acquainted with this charming, intellectual being!"
What a blissfully ignorant fool I was, then.
My first sign that she was perhaps NOT the intellectual I thought her to be was that the moment the bell rang to signify the class being over, her first words were (if you have any small children, autistics or other impressionable beings in the room, you may want to avert their eyes for this next bit) "I'MA GO SMOKE THAT WEEEED."
Now, I won't lie: that annoyed me a great deal. I've always found it annoying when people are almost patriotic about their mental addiction to a drug that temporarily makes you act like your cerebral cortex (I would recommend Google) has been replaced with cotton and Jack Black's DNA.
But whatever, I thought to myself, everyone has their own hobbies, and they have their reasons for being so obnoxiously enthusiastic about them. Then I smacked myself for actually considering accepting human beings for their flaws.
It wasn't until later that I realized how very capable the Blair Witch was of getting under your skin cells.
I like to think myself a funny guy (I like to think myself a lot of things) so I get out as many punchlines during one class period as I can. I enjoy them, and so does the majority of the others in the room.
Except the Blair Witch.
One day, after making a joke about toilets that I found quite humorous, this delightful, young bundle of peaches and cream shouts "OH MY GOD, SHUT UP. YOU ARE SO CHILDISH" loud enough for all of Alaska to hear her. Being the gentleman I am, I say nothing to her. Instead I turn to my friend and begin to talk about her behind her back.
AT WHICH POINT
she declares: "IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM YOU CAN SAY IT TO MY FACE."
Why yes, I would love to do so, but you see, your maturity intimidates my childish little heart so very much, I don't think I could take it. I think I'd much rather go stock up on LSD and dye every bit of fabric in my closet black so I can be a charming, MATURE individual much like yourself.
Anywho, right after this 2-minute confrontation takes place (it lasted a half-hour if you want to include the time she spent whispering under her breath that I am a vagina and a-whole-nother plethora of interesting parts of the female anatomy I knew nothing of) she continues her conversation with her friends about her last acid trip.
The Blair Witch is what's known to most people nowadays as a "drama queen", and to others as "a drama mama"; being born and raised in the hood, I much prefer the latter. She is the kind of female who enjoys getting others riled up for the sake of being loud and pointing out how very mighty she is compared to us squishy mortals. She's the kind of female who, when being argued with, shouts the word "WHY?!" at you over and over again while you are simply trying to inform her that she is an obnoxious, little, stuck up, spunk-flavored, narcissistic indie-fag.
This is Alabama, and listening to "WHY?!WHY?!WHY?!" in the Alabamian form is basically "WHAH?!WHAH?!WHAH?!" If the fire alarm were to go off while she was doing that I would not be able to tell the two sounds apart.
It is people like the Blair Witch that make me think: perhaps the whole 2012 thing is not such a terrible concept? I'm most certainly not going to hit her, because I refuse to let my principles be obliterated simply because of a little girl. So maybe she needs a good 'ole meteor to the face. Or a nuclear missile up the nostril.
Or a zombie apocalypse. 'Cause, well, let's be honest: that'd be pretty freakin' sweet.

Howdy, Stranger

Now, I like to think myself an outgoing guy. Sure, whenever I'm the new kid I tend to sit away from everyone else and try to not talk or breathe too loudly, but when I'm thrust into a situation that requires social activity, I've got no problem giving it a shot and trying to make friends.
That is, in real-life social situations.
The phenomenon known as "Facebook" is an excellent way to "socialize" with friends and blablabla. Sadly, it is also a fantastic way for complete strangers to try and become your friend. I've gotten many friend requests from people I have literally never seen in my life. I even once got a friend request from some guy in Idaho. Idaho. You know how far away that is from where I live? It's very far away.
Not too long ago (I'm 99% sure it was yesterday, but I thought this morning was Friday, so I can never really be too sure) a female I have never before met in my life sent me a friend request. After going to her page and seeing that my girlfriend is one of her mutual friends, I begin to question my loyal, obedient woman (I'm really hoping she doesn't read my blog) about the stranger. She informs me that this female is the girlfriend of her ex-boyfriend.
WHOA.
Just...
WHOA.
Change the CHANNEL for I am in a SOAP OPERA. Any second now my long-lost, evil twin brother named Eidde is gonna run in and scoop up my girl in his arms.
I decided in a bout of endangered self-confidence that I would have to politely decline the young lady's offer. "Ha!" I said to myself. "That should be the last of her." Being the pushover I am who has already accepted quite I few people I may have met once, this was a victory to my eyes.
Naturally, being the failure at existence that I am, my victory was short-lived. Not too much longer later, there was a comment on Carly's (that is to say, my girlfriend's) wall, something along the lines of: "Oh,what's the matter, afraid I'll steal him away from you, too? -WINK FACE- "
All thought-processing temporarily ceased except for an electrical signal for the utterance of two words:
"Oh. Snap."
I would have warned Carly to delete it and forget the whole mess before things get out of hand, but alas, the battle had already begun. Now, I'm not sure how many of you have seen two females arguing over a wall on Facebook before, but I assure you, it is not a sight you'd want to put on your bucket list.
Being the brave fool I was, I made an attempt to dive into the fray. No sooner had I posted "Your dress makes you look fat" than I realized something: all of this could have been avoided if I had simply added the woman. Or maybe I could have just made that one of the many requests that I just never click "accept" OR "ignore" and leave it there for all time, dealing with that little rash of a friend request icon at the top right of my homepage.
I think the best way to solve any future problems would be this: don't add strangers. If you have talked to this person once in real life, maybe at lunch or a social event, and took an interest in them, fair enough.
If you are browsing your friend's statuses and see someone interesting on their page, DO NOT add them. If you see a picture of a stranger and think "Hey,they look like an interesting person",DO NOT add them.
In fact, we should all stop adding friends completely. Maybe we should stop using Facebook altogether. We should all get out of our houses and go meet up with people and ride our bikes or go to the park. We should all just stop using these potentially-dangerous social websites that we use to speak to people we don't know and try to socialize with people in real life and-
BAHAHAHAHA I kill myself.