I. Introduction:
In today’s age it is increasingly uncommon to discover an American household without internet access. Regardless of whether their connection is dial-up or high-speed, families now can enjoy vastly enhanced communicative capacity: including instant-messaging, so-called “chat-rooms,” posting messages to one and others on the guest-books of online web-pages, and even simple electronic-mail. While this new era of communication enfranchises many who would otherwise avoid social situations, it should also be noted that it has brought about irreparable changes to our society. Some changes are immediate, while other more subtle changes have gone unnoticed; ignored by people distracted by this whirl-wind of technological advancements. The impact is all the same.
It appears that many people in world are gravely unhappy in their lives despite having access to advances that were not present in the time of their parents or their grandparents. It seems feelings of despair and desperation are eternally on the rise, and studies now show that 16% men and women in the world suffer from some form of chronic depression[1]. The causes of this are varied: situational causes, chemical imbalances, seasonal changes, and etc ad infinitum; all subject to great debate. However: one factor remains irrefutable in these trying times, one cause believed by all to be having a great effect on the mental-landscape or collective unconsciousness. This is the waning numbers of fax machines, those devices that integrated the photocopier with the telephone and made a quiet revolution in business communication. The fax machine (short for telefacsimile machine, derived from Latin[2]) played a great role in our lives, not for their loud, abrupt beeping noises (a precursor of the scrambled sonic exaltations of the dial-up home computer) or their ability to reduce documents and pictures into raw data and transmit said data along conventional telephone wires, but because they provided amusement by offering stimuli to our playful and whimsical cats.
Yes, the cats[3], intrigued by the strange noises and rapid, mechanical movements of the telefacsimile devices, wound often pounce upon them with wide-eyed faces of fascination or perhaps take a swipe at the paper as it fed out the base of the machine. These mirthful games between machine and mouse-catcher gave us hours of earnest, genuine entertainment, allowing us to relax and reflect on the goods things in life rather than concentrating upon the stress and worry. In our blind struggle for technological superiority, we have forgotten what matters most in life and consequently are paying the price. Should there not be a resurgence in fax machine use, or if a suitable fax machine surrogate cannot be found for our cats, this problem could grow to troublesome proportions.
[1] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clinical_depression#Prevalence
[2] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fax_machine
[3] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cat
Showing posts with label Black. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Black. Show all posts
Friday, June 15, 2007
Monday, March 6, 2006
Baxter Black says: “Hey, I’m more famous than this here bag of rocks…way more famous.” An Interview With A Hero By Vivian Bell
Interviewer: So Baxter
Baxter: Black
I: So Mr. Black
B: Baxter Black
I: So Mr. Baxter Black
B: My name is Baxter Black, just Baxter Black; I don’t shorten or elongate it for anyone alright?
I: Okay, sorry- So Baxter Black how did you get to be where you are today?
B: Um…you called my office, and they told me to meet you here. I came by bus because it saves gas.
I: I mean how did you get to be a world famous zombie hunter?
B: I had to sell off a piece of my soul.
I: Hopefully not too much (Laughs)
B: Not that much at all actually, and they gave me this neato wristwatch for one of my toes, (holds up the watch, and bandaged foot) see the hour hand is a little zombie and the minute hand looks like a chainsaw chasing after it. Pretty neato huh?
I: Indeed. Baxter why don-
B: Black
I: Pardon
B: Full name, Baxter Black.
I: Right, Baxter Black, why don’t you tell us a little about yourself?
B: What do you want to know?
I: Something dangerous.
B: My middle name is Shirley, like the temple.
I: What!?
B: You know, like from Curly Top (stand up begins to dance and sing…poorly) Animal crackers in my soup monkeys and rabbits loop the loop, gosh, oh gee, but I have fun swallowin’ animals one by one!
I: Can we get back to this please?
B: Yeah sure, but don’t you go tellin’ anyone about my middle name thing.
I: You understand that this is all being recorded for my article right?
B:…What article? I thought this was a…I thought you wanted to go…Oh my god!
At this moment Baxter Black leapt out of his chair and, tried to wrestle the tape recorder out of the interviewers hands. After about 30 seconds Baxter Black collapsed to the floor in what appeared to be a fit of exhaustion. A few minutes later he composed himself, threw a pen at the bartender, jumped over a table, and ran out the door.
Baxter Black was not seen again for three months.
Baxter: Black
I: So Mr. Black
B: Baxter Black
I: So Mr. Baxter Black
B: My name is Baxter Black, just Baxter Black; I don’t shorten or elongate it for anyone alright?
I: Okay, sorry- So Baxter Black how did you get to be where you are today?
B: Um…you called my office, and they told me to meet you here. I came by bus because it saves gas.
I: I mean how did you get to be a world famous zombie hunter?
B: I had to sell off a piece of my soul.
I: Hopefully not too much (Laughs)
B: Not that much at all actually, and they gave me this neato wristwatch for one of my toes, (holds up the watch, and bandaged foot) see the hour hand is a little zombie and the minute hand looks like a chainsaw chasing after it. Pretty neato huh?
I: Indeed. Baxter why don-
B: Black
I: Pardon
B: Full name, Baxter Black.
I: Right, Baxter Black, why don’t you tell us a little about yourself?
B: What do you want to know?
I: Something dangerous.
B: My middle name is Shirley, like the temple.
I: What!?
B: You know, like from Curly Top (stand up begins to dance and sing…poorly) Animal crackers in my soup monkeys and rabbits loop the loop, gosh, oh gee, but I have fun swallowin’ animals one by one!
I: Can we get back to this please?
B: Yeah sure, but don’t you go tellin’ anyone about my middle name thing.
I: You understand that this is all being recorded for my article right?
B:…What article? I thought this was a…I thought you wanted to go…Oh my god!
At this moment Baxter Black leapt out of his chair and, tried to wrestle the tape recorder out of the interviewers hands. After about 30 seconds Baxter Black collapsed to the floor in what appeared to be a fit of exhaustion. A few minutes later he composed himself, threw a pen at the bartender, jumped over a table, and ran out the door.
Baxter Black was not seen again for three months.
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Baxter Blacks Very Intense Battle Diary Excerpt from- Episode 22: Third Times A Charm
I dove head on into battle not knowing what to expect, the only thing I knew for sure was that this would be our final encounter (until our much anticipated next encounter which would ultimately be our last).
The Damien charged at me with the intensity of a full grown musk ox. He leapt into the air and let fly his now famous battle cry “GRRRRRAAAA-AAARRRRRG!!”Right away I knew that this would be no ordinary battle, this would be a battle paralleled only by some of those computer generated battles that look so neato on the big screen.We tore towards each other, flames rising from our souls, sweat pouring from our bodies, boulders bursting in our wake. The very earth we both strove to control lay in the fate of a moment that was yet to come. As we roared closer and closer I continuously revised my upcoming battle strategy. In order to beat my most deadly of foes I would have to discover all of his weaknesses, while revealing none of mine.
Suddenly the moment of tribulation was upon us, I didn’t think, I just acted.
It seemed like an eternity before the whirlwind of dust and debris had finally settled, the victor had been decided yet we dared not lose each others gaze.
After a length of time that could only be measured by a unit yet to be invented I looked down upon the results…
I had chosen rock whereas The Damien had chosen scissors. With the humiliation of defeat surrounding him he instantly transformed into a small furry burrowing creature and disappeared into the underbrush. I thrust my fist into the air and howled my now somewhat famous battle cry
“I don’t just rock, I RAGE!!”
Saturday, October 15, 2005
Baxter Black's Very Intense Battle Diary Episode 1 Chapter 1 Phase 1 Part 1 Incident 1
This all seemed moderately off-kilter to me. So I put my stew on simmer, grabbed me a big ol bag O' salt, hopped into my golf cart and headed on over. The drive to the Chaplains was uneventful by anyone’s standards, and will not be explained in this chapter. I parked behind my neighbors many various luxury golf carts (They recently acquired the newly released PlaidMaster 3.4 Which does 0 to 32 in 7 seconds) and headed for the door. It took me 17 triple knocks and three loud HELLOOOOOOOs before I decided to venture in uninvited.
Upon entering I noticed a few very out of place things, first and foremost, the welcome mat had been replaced by a still beating heart (unnerving but not unheard of in these parts), all the light bulbs had been filled with a thick red syrup, and the entire Chaplain family had been brutally murdered, and was now laying in a mangled heap in front of the washing machine. I slowly moseyed (slower than your average mosey) into the house mentally preparing myself for whatever horrors might leap forth from the shadows. It was then that I saw something completely expected. It was my old partner in mayhem Billy Teir! He was crouched at the top of the stairs munching on a rather fatty portion of what appeared to be Mr. Chaplin. I stepped back cautiously as a thought jumped into my mind, if Billy was here than that meant that HE was almost certainly here as well.
I scanned the room looking for any signs of him, he must've heard the racket I made at the front door (Billy didn't hear anything since our last encounter, where my weedwacker aim was a bit off). Suddenly the door slammed shut behind me, I turned, and there before me stood my arch nemesis. The thing that I'd been hunting for 10 long years. The beast that corrupted poor Billys feeble man-childs mind, and turned him into a walking undead. The villainous snake that knows nothing but pain and suffering. The hideous monster that could ignite all your hair with a snap of his fingers. The murderous imp that could zombify fish just by staring at them. The ferocious cretin that would destroy Ma & Pa shacks just for kicks. The insidious devil that could short out a city block with a wink of his eye. The atrocious deity that could inflict tailbone cysts by saying the magic word. The sinister specter that gets older and younger at the same time. The zombie scourge of the 7 seas. The one, the only, The Damien Of Death! BUM! BUM! BAH! DUM! SMASH!
Friday, October 15, 2004
Baxter Black's thoughts on the battleship "Yamato"
The Japanese ship "Yamato" was the largest battleship to ever sail the sea. She was a destroyer and flagship of the Japanese fleet during World War II. The Japanese believed that the strength of a fleet was in the destroyer, but an unforeseen shift towards aviation based carriers would ultimately be Japan’s undoing. The Yamato only fired it's gigantic guns once in a small skirmish. Sadly it was sunk in the desperate "Ten Go" mission where the last ten surviving battleships of the Japanese fleet went on a kamikaze mission to sink what American ships they could. They would never make it to the opposing fleet. Their air cover had gone up ahead to use themselves as bombs and therefore there was nothing protect the last great battleships from the swarms of American bombers. After receiving 10 torpedo hits, and 10 dive bombs hits, the great Yamato rolled over and exploded into a huge mushroom cloud. A sign of things to come.
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Baxter Black's thoughts on lunchtime
In an all out lunch war between a hot dog, a grilled cheese, and a peanut butter and Jelly sandwich, the PB & J would win. Sure, that hot dog goes well with condiments, and the grilled cheese boasts great quantities of salt and grease, but the PB & J is beyond good and evil. That combination, the ooze-like, sweet jelly and the nutty, spicy peanut butter combine with crisp bread to form the zenith in sandwich technology. Make one right now. Do it for me, for alas I have a nut allergy and can never again taste that sweet fruit of paradise known as the peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Sunday, August 15, 2004
Baxter Black's thoughts on American International Pictures
American International Pictures was founded by two men: James H. Nicholson and Samuel Z. Arkoff. Both realized the great money-making potential of moviemaking and a key demographic that all other studios had been missing: the teenage market. By producing quickly made low-budget fodder for drive-ins, they could make far more money than the studios that shot expensive productions for real theatres. They later hired Roger Corman and the infamous Bert I. Gordon as directors, both of whom would create some of the most notorious b-movies every made, including the Amazing Colossal Man and Attack of the Crab Monsters. Corman would later go on to form his own production studio called New World Pictures, and discover many brilliant talents including Joe Dante, John Sayles, Francis Ford Coppola, Ron Howard, and Jack Nicholson.
Thursday, July 15, 2004
Baxter Black's thoughts on "The Yellow Peril"
“The Yellow Peril Villain” is a term used to describe the villains from pulp novellas and radio programs of the thirties and forties. These were typically mad geniuses or cultists, all being asian. Their depiction was blatantly racist, often having long talon-like fingernails, squinty slanted eyes, and long moustaches. The most infamous of the Yellow Peril villains was Fu Manchu, a would-be-world conqueror from Saw Rohmer's pulp novels.
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
Baxter Black's Thoughts on Radiation
The destructive potential of radiation is only matched by the naiveté that people had when handling it. During the fifties, radiation and radioactive materials were dealt with in ways that would horrify anyone today. Radium was used to make watch faces glow-in-the-dark, and hand-painted by workers. Many licked their brushes to wet them, and later perished from agonizing throat and mouth cancer. Uranium was placed in golf balls so they could be located by giger counters when lost in the woods. Frank Zappa's doctor injected a radium insert into his nose when he was a child, to combat his nasal infection.
It's no wonder there's so many radioactive zombies.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)