Thursday, 24 December 2015


Let me consider the consumation
Of the tyrants, the imperialists
And the fools with too much power
They are but the scum of the earth
Who pour salt on the earth’s wounds
Their consumation is endless
But what can one expect from them
The imperialists will pillage
Under order of those tyrants
They are the fools with unbound malevolence
Letting their consumation consume them
Completely without any remorse
For their soul, for their purity
Oh how terrible it is to say
That they once had a sense of purity
They are scum, beasts and bastards
Who know nothing more than the one thing
That keeps them running, keeps them going
And that my dear friend
Is simply, consummation

Wednesday, 23 December 2015


For many years, drugs have become the domain of a seedy underground that had been fueled by miscalculations made by doctors striving to better the world and junkies who wanted to find newer ways to harass their senses. As perverse as that world is, its logic is more solid than the crack pipes that warp it. It is the science that twists the minds and the twisted that take the science to its limits. So rarely though do you encounter that what eventually ends up being sold in the streets came from the rusting vending machines where the dealers scrunch behind to sell their product. But man, the 70s were a wild time.

In 1971, the 25 year-old CEO of Pepsi Co., Larson H. Simwadd, had found himself on the cusp of a new era for the soda business as Coke sales had begun to plummet from their previously enormous sales. Being eager to prove himself to his associates, he had launched an aggressive campaign to capitalize on their competitors failure. For the next 7 years, Larson got as many celebrity sponsors that he could buy in the hopes of finally becoming the beloved cola of the USA. As his efforts grew to be more extravagant and detailed, the stress caused by the immense paperwork grew larger than the percentage that the sales increased. Larson found himself in a snag that many corporate heads found themselves in; the stress of a job too big for their idealism to handle. Realizing that there was no point to try anything cleaner, Larson went straight into snorting cocaine.

His first taste of the nose sugar was something that outright disgusted him. Sure it gave him the energy to continue running the company, but the sensations it gave he absolutely despised. He figured that there had to be some way to give a drug with such potential the proper kick for the young soul. He sent his remaining bag of cocaine to some of the scientists in the Pepsi Co. plant and gave the order to reinvent it. J. Esvar Bradham, the head of the scientists, took it upon himself to change certain elements in the drug and combine it with the Pepsi secret formula. After an explosion that resulted from some careless mixing, the recently one-eyed Esvar managed to create a cola-brown powder dubbed pepsicane.

Pepsicane was identical to cocaine in method and in sensation, but in flavor, pepsicane was beyond addictive. It's texture was so delightful that Esvar lied compulsively to Larson over the process of the altered yeyo. It wasn't until a night in December of '75 that Larson stumbled upon the motherlode in Esvar's office. He had become increasingly agitated after the board members yelled at him for how his decisions have actually started to cost the company a substantial amount of money (but not enough to get them bankrupt because that's just preposterous). Larson took from Esvar's stash and upon tasting it found himself in the greatest state of euphoria that no amount of Asian hookers could ever bring. He grabbed Esvar and ordered him to make him a suitcase full or else he'd be fired. Esvar had no choice but to comply, but with the energy that pepsicane gave him, he was able to make enough for the two of them.

What Esvar was unaware about was that Larson was spreading the pepsicane all over the meeting tables with his associates and the naked bodies of the underqualified but exceptionally buxom secretaries. Along with the white-collar clusterfucking, they were coming up with the various ways to name the drug and sell it to the underground clubs and circuits of the nation. Anywhere you heard cola crystals, colastals, brown nose sugar, Big P, pepsika, sika or dark coke, you were near the presence of the drug. Some of the vending machines in the ghetto found themselves dispensing the drug stuffed inside a crumpled can of Pepsi if you pressed the buttons in a certain order. Pepsi may have not been able to finally overcome their competitor head on, but they were still able to make more money that they could ever dream of.

Larson had made a name of himself for those previous strategies and more that helped distribute the product and was able to afford the finest that life could be with illegal money. His methods were spectacular in catching the young eye as the packaging of the drugs suited their rebellious side just enough to embrace it with a good line of pepsicane. Celebrities had become hooked too, and had taken upon themselves to go with the practice of saltpeppering which involved the mixing of the two drugs. While the high was getting him to heights beyond comprehension, the lows dragged down with thrice the power.

Firstly, the drug's side-effects from long-term use took effect and struck just as hard as cocaine. Some other effects included dehydration, bad posture, blackened gums, yellowed blood veins and "syrup piss", the latter three which Larson experienced quite painfully. Secondly, Esvar demanded his cut from the immense amount of money that came from this deal in '84 with a loaded shotgun. Thirdly, the same year the cocaine dealers sent a message to Pepsi Co. from their secret deals with the dreaded Pepsi Incident with Micheal Jackson. Pepsicane was soon the be connected to the source and Larson had done enough to create that divide so the cops wouldn't start sniffing around his place. He resigned from his position after the months of damage control from the "accident" and begun to clean himself.

The 80s saw a shift from the company to remove any indication that they had anything to do with pepsicane, even going so far to fire employees who believed otherwise. By this point Esvar had retired to enjoy his days in a remote island in the Carribean and the original board members of Pepsi Co. during the Pepsicane era either found themselves working for Coke, a start-up soda company or overdosing on the product on lucrative business trips in Las Vegas strip clubs. Meanwhile the wars between cocaine and pepsicane cartels grew to be bloodier each time that the two met. The conflicts reached its apex when in '89, members of the Sika Squad and the Kokas had a firefight that claimed 6 innocent bystanders.

The FBI was under strict order to rid pepsicane from the streets, which they figured they could so since it didn't have the same complicated strongholds that cocaine thrived under. D-Siskane, the leader of the Sika Squad did not want to be weaseled out of such a fruitful business, so he sent a group that tracked down Esvar to ask for the recipe with as many guns as crime could by. Esvar told them that Larson was the one with the recipe, and that he had stolen it from Esvar just to spite him for the cut that he received. The group then went to find Larson which took three years after the Sika-Koka Conflict. Once finding him, they raided Larson's house finding his recipe and then pelting the man to death with tons of Coca Cola bottles since they had used up all of their bullets on a Koka gang that ambushed them.

Upon getting the recipe, the Sika Squad created a variant of pepsicane that looked more like cocaine, which they dubbed crystal pepsicane, but sold it as regular cocaine. This somehow managed to calm the feud between the Sika Squad and the Kokas for a few months until it became an issue of territory. It was also found that the Sika Squad would still sell the pure pepsicane with the code "Sika Classic", which managed to be revealed by a subliminal message hidden in a work by Travis Charest. The scarcity of original pepsicane only continued to a point where if one were to find a dealer of the product, they would venture into corners of the world they would never want to encounter again.

The demand for pepsicane hasn't changed though. In all the dingiest and desensitized alleyways and crackhouses, there is speak of the illustrious brown nose sugar. Dealers still wish to obtain the recipe which by now is only in the possession of Esvar after making a deal with the Sika Squad, the few members that survived and did not convert to Kokas (including D-Siskane), a member of the Kokas through sheer dumb luck and a prostitute-pimp in Eastern Europe for some reason, whom all of which have made it their mission to keep their operations on the down low. They sell only to those with the money and the eccentricity to follow through with a drug that was to be the choice of a new generation.

Tuesday, 22 December 2015

Superficial Meaning

I look upon the sky above me
With all of its lost stars
As the roof below
Puts me above the rest
That including my lesser self
And yet I still find I rest
Upon a dreary pedestal
As if I was a bust
In an abandoned home office
Thinking about something beyond
Those internal perversions
Which I can't help but think of
For I don't know much better
I force my head above
And I swoon from the predictable magic
Letting my heart beat faster
Without it pumping more blood
Without it filling those needed pores
Still, I feel that those it goes to
Need its fervor to intensify
For my heart has not learned yet
How to fill such holes
It does the next best it can
And it lets me see those stars better
Maybe not how they really are
But at least I don't let them be lost
I keep that in mind when I come down
And I tell a story rather than their myth
But their influence pervades my narrative
And those willing to be closer
Make up their mind
To open to me theirs and more
And while those previous thoughts
Come back once more
Reminding me of their truth
And hoping for it to take hold
I still want to let that magic come by
Even if such cliches are not needed
I just don't see it any other way
If I wish to explore those minds
That I have opened with lost stars
That spoke to my lost soul

Monday, 21 December 2015

Here...Have Some Old Python Programs

This one's gonna be a bit of a rushed entry because I just came home and my dad had taken me to White Spot and OH FUCKING LORD THESE EXAMS AND GODDAMN JETLAG IS DRIVING ME INSANE so yeah here's some Python programs I had made:

The first one is called drunken_math. Essentially the idea is that this program would function like a drunk mathematician. It's stupid, I know.

def drunken_math(num1, num2, sign, drinks, alc_cont):
    """   (int, int, str, int, float) -> str
    Precondition: alc_cont < 1.0
    Returns the equation according to drunken math
    >>> drunken_math(1, 1, '+', 10, 0.5)
    '*hic* 1 + 1 = 7'
    >>> drunken_math(2, 4, '-', 4, 0.6)
    '*hic* 2 - 4 = -2'
    >>> drunken_math(3, 7, '*', 7, 0.267)
    '*hic* 3 * 7 = 0'
    >>> drunken_math(30, 5, '/', 6, 0.309)
    '*hic* 30 / 5 = 1'
    hiccup = round(drinks * alc_cont)
    if sign in '+-*/' and len(sign) == 1:
        if sign == '+':
            drunk_num = num1 + num2 + hiccup
        if sign == '-':
            drunk_num = num2 - num1 - (hiccup * 2)
        if sign == '*':
            drunk_num = num2 * num1 * (round(hiccup / 4))
        if sign == '/':
            drunk_num = round((num1 / num2) / (hiccup + num2))
        equation = str(num1) + ' ' + sign + ' ' + str(num2)
        return('*hic* ' + equation + ' = ' + str(drunk_num))
        return('No sir, I can\'t do it, now drive me home *hic*')

The second one is polynomials_with_six. A lot more interesting mathematically speaking and it saved my ass when I was in first year so this is cool.

def six_x(num): #6x
    return num % 6 == 0

def six_x_plus_1(num): #6x + 1
    return ((num - 1) // 6) == ((num - 1) / 6)

def six_x_squared(num): #6(x ** 2)
    return ((num // 6) ** 0.5) == ((num / 6) ** 0.5)

def six_x_squared_plus_1(num): #6(x ** 2) + 1
    return (((num - 1) // 6) ** 0.5) == (((num - 1) / 6) ** 0.5)

def six_x_squared_plus_five_x(num): #6(x ** 2) + 5x == x(6x + 5)
    i = 0
    test = i * (6 * i + 5)  
    while test < num:
        i = i + 1
        test = i * (6 * i + 5)  
    return test == num

def six_x_squared_plus_five_x_plus_1(num): #6(x ** 2) + 5x + 1 == x(6x + 5) + 1
    num = num - 1
    i = 0
    test = i * (6 * i + 5)  
    while test < num:
        i = i + 1
        test = i * (6 * i + 5)  
    return test == num

def six_x_plus_five_y_plus_1(num): #6x + 5y + 1
    num = num - 1
    i = 0
    temp = num - (5 * i)
    while temp > 0 and temp % 6 != 0:
        i = i + 1
        temp = num - (5 * i)
    if temp % 6:
        return False
        return ['y is equal to ' + str(i), 'x is equal to ' + str(temp // 6)]

Third one is this bizarre form of sigma notation I conjured up called Siretsuonian Sigma. God only knows.

A polynomial is a statement with a variable and equations
such as 'x ** 2' or '3 * x + 2'

def siretsuonian_sigma(l, h, eff_x, gee_a, n_input, n_in_x=None):
    ''' (int, int, polynomial, polynomial, int/str, polynomial) -> num
    Precondition: h > l
    Return a number based on Siretsuonian Sigma Notation
    if n_input == 'from x' and n_in_x == None:
        l_to_h = list(range(l, h+1))
        siret_sum = 0
        for i in range(len(l_to_h)):
            x_value = l_to_h[i]
            a_value = l_to_h[-1 - (i)]
            f_x = eff_x.replace('x', str(x_value))
            g_a = gee_a.replace('a', str(a_value))
            if 'x' in g_a:
                g_a = g_a.replace('x', str(x_value))
                x_and_a = eval(f_x) * eval(g_a)
            except ZeroDivisionError:
                x_and_a = 0
            siret_sum = siret_sum + x_and_a
        siret_sigma = siret_sum / len(l_to_h)
        return siret_sigma
    elif n_input == 'from x' and n_in_x != None:
        return 'That cannot be calculated'
    elif str(n_input).isdigit() and n_in_x == None:
        a_value = n_input
        g_a = gee_a.replace('a', str(a_value))
        if 'x' in g_a:
            g_a = g_a.replace('x', str(x_value))
        siret_sum = 0
        for i in range(l, h+1):
            x_value = i
            if x_value != n_input:
                f_x = eff_x.replace('x', str(x_value))
                    x_and_a = eval(f_x) * eval(g_a)
                except ZeroDivisionError:
                    x_and_a = 0              
                siret_sum = siret_sum + x_and_a
                    siret_sum = siret_sum + eval(g_a)
                except ZeroDivisionError:
                    siret_sum = siret_sum
        siret_sigma = siret_sum / ((h - l) + 1)
        return siret_sigma
    elif str(n_input).isdigit() and n_in_x != None:
        siret_sum = 0
        for i in range(l, h+1):
            x_value = i
            n_x = n_in_x.replace('x', str(x_value))
                a_value = round(eval(n_x))
            except ZeroDivisionError:
                a_value = n_input
            g_a = gee_a.replace('a', str(a_value))
            if 'x' in g_a:
                g_a = g_a.replace('x', str(x_value))          
            if x_value != n_input:
                f_x = eff_x.replace('x', str(x_value))
                    x_and_a = eval(f_x) * eval(g_a)
                except ZeroDivisionError:
                    x_and_a = 0
                siret_sum = siret_sum + x_and_a
                    siret_sum = siret_sum + eval(g_a)
                except ZeroDivisionError:
                    siret_sum = siret_sum                
        siret_sigma = siret_sum / ((h - l) + 1)
        return siret_sigma

The fourth one involves balls. That's all I can say.

import random

def shuffle_cups(cups):
    shuffle_cups = []
    for i in range(len(cups)):
        new_cup = random.choice(cups)
    return shuffle_cups

def get_three_red_balls():
    red_ball_counter = 0
    attempts = 0
    start = input('What level of difficulty do you want? ')
    levels = ['1', '2', '3', '4']
    while start not in levels:
        start = input('What level of difficulty do you want? ')
    if start in levels:
        if start == '1':
            cups = ['red ball', 'red ball', 'white ball']
        elif start == '2':
            cups = ['red ball', 'yellow ball', 'blue ball']
        elif start == '3':
            cups = ['red ball', 'yellow ball', 'blue ball', 'green ball']
        elif start == '4':
            cups = ['red ball', 'yellow ball', 'blue ball', 'green ball', 'white ball']
    while red_ball_counter < 3:
        copy_cups = tuple(cups)
        new_cups = shuffle_cups(cups)
        print('There are ' + str(len(new_cups)) + ' cups')
        choose = int(input('Where is the red ball? '))
        while choose not in range(1, len(new_cups) + 1):
            print('There is no cup that exists')
            choose = int(input('Where is the red ball? '))
        choice = choose - 1
        if new_cups[choice] == 'red ball' and red_ball_counter == 2:
            red_ball_counter = red_ball_counter + 1
            attempts = attempts + 1
            cups = list(copy_cups)      
        elif new_cups[choice] == 'red ball' and red_ball_counter < 2:
            red_ball_counter = red_ball_counter + 1
            print('You got one! Only ' + str(3 - red_ball_counter) + ' left')
            attempts = attempts + 1
            cups = list(copy_cups)
        if new_cups[choice] != 'red ball':
            print('Sorry, you did not get a red ball.')
            print('You got instead: ' + str(new_cups[choice]))
            attempts = attempts + 1
            cups = list(copy_cups)
    if red_ball_counter == 3:
        print('You got 3 of them! Attempts made: ' + str(attempts))
        try_again = input('Again? ')
        if try_again in ['Yes', 'yes', 'y', 'Y']:
        elif try_again in ['Fuck you', 'FUCK YOU']:
            print("Okay asshole, now you've done it")
            cups = ['white ball'] * 100 + ['red ball']
            new_cups = shuffle_cups(cups)
            print("There's 101 cups")
            print("Only one has a red ball")
            print("If you think you're so poppin' fresh, which one has it?")
            guess = int(input('Well? '))
            while guess not in range(1, 102):
                guess = int(input("Is this too hard for you, sunshine? Give me an answer! "))
            if new_cups[guess - 1] == 'red ball':
                print('Fuck, you win...')
                print("Don't you be dissing me again, boy.")

Fifth is a program called obnoxious_salesman. It would probably work better if it wasn't solely text-based.

def obnoxious_salesman():
    first_line = input("Hey, can I interest you in this product? ")
    while first_line != 'No':
        first_line = input("Hey, did you hear me? ")
    if first_line == 'No':
        second_line = input("Come on, it's absolutely wonderful! ")
        counter = 0
    while second_line != 'Go away' and counter % 2 == 0:
        second_line = input("You know you want it! ")
        counter = counter + 1
    while second_line != 'Go away' and counter % 2 == 1:
        second_line = input("I know you want it! ")
        counter = counter + 1
    if second_line == 'Go away':
        third_line = input("Please sir, I got a family to feed. ")
    while third_line != "I don't believe you":
        if third_line == "Really?":
            third_line = input("Yes, I do. " )
        if third_line == "How many kids?":
            third_line = input("Uh...3, I think... " )
            third_line = input("Come on, I'm desperate! ")
    if third_line == "I don't believe you":
        fourth_line = input("No, really! I do! ")
        flb1 = "What's one of your sons' name?" #flb stands for fourth line breaker
        flb2 = "What's your daughter's name?"
        flb3 = "How many boys and girls?"
        flb4 = ['Liar', 'Liar!', 'You liar!']
    while fourth_line not in flb4:
        if fourth_line == flb1:
            fourth_line = input("Sandra...I MEAN SAM! ")
        if fourth_line == flb2:
            fourth_line = input("Sandra. ")
        if fourth_line == flb3:
            fourth_line = input("Two boys and one girl. ")
    if fourth_line in flb4:
        fifth_line = input('PLEASE, JUST BUY ONE OF THEM! ')
        flbl = ['No way', 'No dice', 'Nuh-uh', 'Not a chance'] #fifth line breaker list
    while fifth_line not in flbl:
        fifth_line = input('I WILL NOT STOP UNTIL YOU TAKE ONE OF THESE! ')
    if fifth_line in flbl:
        print('You win...jerk.')

Sixth one is really useful if you ever want to put text inside of a box. Yeah.

def in_a_box(text):
    """ (str) -> print
    Return text in a box
    >>> in_a_box('thirty days\nwool')
    | thirty days |
    |    wool       |
    #obtain lines
    lines = []
    line = ''
    for ch in text:
        if ch != '\n':
            line = line + ch
            line = ''
    #get last line the for loop overlooks (if it is not empty)
    if line.strip() != '':
    #obtain length of longest line, which we dub hard_line
    lengths = []
    for item in lines:
        length = len(item)
    hard_line = max(lengths)
    tops = '-' * 4 + '-' * hard_line
    #building the box
    for i in range(len(lines)):
        if len(lines[i]) == hard_line:
            print("| " + lines[i] + " |")
        elif len(lines[i]) != hard_line and len(lines[i]) % 2 == 0:
            if hard_line % 2 == 0:
                num_space = (hard_line // 2) - (len(lines[i]) // 2)
                print("| " + ' ' * num_space + lines[i] + ' ' * num_space + " |")
            elif hard_line % 2 == 1:
                num_space = (hard_line // 2) - (len(lines[i]) // 2)
                print("| " + ' ' * num_space + lines[i] + ' ' * (num_space + 1) + " |")
        elif len(lines[i]) != hard_line and len(lines[i]) % 2 == 1:
            if hard_line % 2 == 0:
                num_space = hard_line // 2
                print("|" + ' ' * num_space + lines[i] + ' ' * (num_space + 1)  + "|")
            elif hard_line % 2 == 1:
                num_space = (hard_line // 2) - (len(lines[i]) // 2)
                print("|" + ' ' * (num_space + 1) + lines[i] + ' ' * (num_space + 1) + "|")

And finally, the greatest one of them all, the best program that I, nay, anyone has ever coded ever before in their lives:

def guess():
    x = input('Give me a number between 1 and 10: ')
    if int(x) > 10:
        print('Too high')
        y = input()
        if y == 'U fukkin know it':

I know this is a cop-out but I did put a lot of effort into these back in the day. Especially the last one. Please don't judge me. I've had a long day.

Sunday, 20 December 2015

Che Cazzo AKA Italiano For What The Fuck (The Cat O' Nine Tails Review)

So if you were perchance wondering why the hell I didn't talk more about The Cat O' Nine Tails is basically because I want to preserve it for it's own blog. This was perhaps the strangest film I picked up because it was the one that had the most bootleg feeling to it. The packaging was incredibly striking and completely insane. It is not the picture above since I got it on DVD though I don't have a picture of the one I had now because I lost the DVD case. But trust me, it was by far the cheapest looking one of them all. Which is strange since the director of the film is Dario Argento. I mean I didn't really know much about the guy but looking him up, it seemed like his record was extensive and impressive. If nothing else, he was involved in Once Upon A Time In The West, which is a Sergio Leone film and Leone's one of the big names in Italian cinema, so to have this movie come off as cheap might not reflect entirely his line of work.

The other weird thing is that this was the first time (or at least the first time in a while) that I got exposed to a obviously dubbed film. One in which the dubbing is somewhat off and uncharacteristic of the characters. Where there's a certain artificiality to the whole process. It's not bad per se, that sort of dubbing can be entertaining. There's a lot of kung fu movies out there where part of the fun is the shit dubbing (which reminds me...I gotta see more of those). This could very well produce some entertainment in that respect too, couldn't it? Well, after succumbing myself to the film a few times, I can definitely say it was a bizarre experience going through it, and that the dubbing served to enhance it. But what exactly is this movie about, what are it's contents? I'll tell you...

The film starts with a blind man and a little girl. The girl calls this man Cookie, which she says is because he's so sweet, but I believe that there was something lost in the translation. In any case, the two of them walk down a street and the old man senses trouble from a nearby car. Cookie then asks the little girl to inspect the man that is in the car that he just past.  The old man seems to be a fan of puzzles as when he and the girl return home he solves a crossword. Then all of a sudden he hears a car and for a split second a man face down flashes on the screen. At first I thought it was stylistic, but the flashing doesn't occur again and there's a part afterwards that shows the man being killed in POV format as the assailant then breaks into a place with a screwdriver. I figure it was just the shitty bootleg editing. The movie would sometimes have the frame be cutting out some of the text or important detail which essentially caused me to miss a few things here and there. It was just irritating and confusing.

Anyways, this whole situation leads to a journalist named Carlo who is investigating a break-in at an medical complex called the Terzi Institute. It is there where the man was killed (at least I think he was, it's never made clear) and where the camera was leading to. Carlo is trying to find information and then bumps into Cookie. And then Carlo goes on his merry way to find out more about the situation. A bit random, but I'm sure there's some Chekov going to come into play. Carlo goes to talk to the people at the institute but finds bumpkus about what happened, and so he leaves leading to one of the doctors talking to his fiancee regarding about what really happened in the institute. The doctor arranges a meeting with someone at the train station and as he's standing by, he gets pushed on to the tracks and dies. Bummer.

Cookie gets read the news by his orphan girl who informs him also of the photo that was taken and then contacts Carlo who wrote the story (Chekov never fails). Apparently Cookie finds himself curious if the image (that he can't see) was cropped and after Carlo contacts the photographer, a good friend of his, it turns out that this hunch was in fact a reality, as the full photo reveals a hand that pushed the good doctor. Before the photographer can say any more and develop the full photo, he gets murdered by the shadowy figure and the evidence is destroyed. Carlo finds his pal dead and then commits himself further to solving the case, meeting with the doctors and their relatives, one being Anna, who although is the sauciest sausage, really doesn't do much for me.

The dubbing actually isn't terrible in how it syncs up to the mouth. It's more that the people who are doing the dubbing are clearly not voice actors and thus can't carry the proper nuances with the voice. With that said, they were coherent and did try to make an effort to capture the atmosphere or intensity that a scene needed. I was expecting more hilarity from it which unfortunately didn't happen, that is except for this crook that Carlo talks to that starts talking about watermelons. I wasn't sure if it was the fact that he was talking about watermelons, or the bizarre voice that was making it so amusing for me, but something told me that there was something lost in translation. For one, the character didn't look like a watermelon vendor and two, there was no watermelons being used or seen throughout the movie. Which is a shame because I would have liked to seen that come into play at some point.

The movie itself is a fair thriller. The editing is kind of edgy and sometimes feels out of place. I don't know if that's really how it was constructed or if it's because of the bootleg modifications but with that in mind, it was able to work. Each cut tended to have a good punch to it and the cinematography captures the gritty feel of a pulp-style story. Which makes sense for a giallo to do. As for the plot, while I didn't have any considerable issues with it (aside from the blind man having super senses), it wasn't anything too striking. The only really interesting part was the ending, in which they find the culprit who has kidnapped the orphan girl and then Cookie turns out to have a fucking cane sword and pretty much threatens the kidnapper to give him information on the girl. But the guy pretty much provokes Cookie by lying that he killed her and that's when shit gets real. Other than that and the watermelons, there wasn't anything else. It was pretty much a fever dream that came after watching some second-rate Hitchcockian film, where there was striking visuals and a few odd moments but nothing else. Perhaps in riffing it with oneself or with others you can find more to make fun of but otherwise, it's nothing to really write about. ironic, eh?

Saturday, 19 December 2015

I'm Proud Of You

Hello, my child
How have you been doing lately
Are you doing your work
Are you working hard
What’s the matter, my child
Are you not feeling well
Why, you’re crying, you’re crying
Please do not cry
Oh, come here, my child
Tell me what’s wrong

You’re not doing so well
Does life seem to be rough
That you’re nothing in the world
That you’re a failure in all
Don’t say that, my child
You are no failure to me
I’m proud of you my child
For all that you’ve done so far
I know how hard you try
You’ve done your very best

Sure, you could have done better
Sure, others have done better
But you can’t fault yourself on that
Hindsight is cruel when you think like that
It stings the sights of the past
And shakes your path to the future
But in the now, you should be calm
You should look to your options
You are capable of surmounting this
I know you are, my child

You feel so tired, so alone, so scared
That all your efforts are in vain
That you have no lover to hold dear
And tell your worries away
But you still have loved ones, my child
You still have people that can help
Don’t feel so bad about this hurdle
You can still get over in time
Believe me when I say this
I’m proud of you, my child

I know how tough the world is
That it asks so much and takes so much
As the years go by and you mature as well
The demands grow more each hour that goes
I know you’ve had it rough before
And that now it just seems to be rougher
But don’t think all you’ve done is a waste
Just because you can’t get over this bump
You’ve gotten so far, my child
You can still go farther

If you want to rest right now
In my arms so warm
As if you were newborn again
Then you can do so, my child
And I’ll tell you good memories
Of when you were young
Of all that you’ve done so far
And all that can do
Good night my dear child
I’m so proud of you

Friday, 18 December 2015

A False Noble

There was a man
He was not known
Worked day and night
And lived alone
This man knew few
And less of them
They met so rare
And made him despair

This man has goals
And he carries forth
No luck with them
But he still tries
Until one day
It took a toll
His soul, hollow
Like his pockets

So he worked and worked
Thought of something new
To get back to better
And to feel good anew
He spoke more to few
Learned more from them too
And his wallet grew
For his new passion

As much as he tried
He could not do well
The few had their ways
None that crossed with his
They were not rude though
They thought he was good
But he could not tell
He was trying anew

His hobby he mastered
But a master he wasn’t
The days kept on fading
So did his own image
Inside, he would not cry
There was no one to see
And no one to comfort
His contained tragedy

His name would be mixed up
By others around him
Yet the few still knew it
From left up to the right
No one he could decry
For this fault was not theirs
And he strived still to find
How he could be more known

Idea after ‘nother
Nothing would work out for him
He pondered an awful thought
Every day that did not work
Work was no longer awful
The few were never constant
No one knew what was inside
That trouble head of the man

The awful thought grew stronger
And his character weakened
What even was his character?
At this point he did not know
What he did now was an alley
Pitch black and terrifying
Which he visited that night
To put his thought to its use

The day after that, he knew his deed
It tore him apart for three days
He saw the error outside work
Whimpering from the police house
No longer could he suppress it
He admitted his gruesome act
The media in a frenzy
Followed suit to hear from this man

But he would say not a word
He didn’t deserve one
Not to the media
Not to the judge
All but his verdict
Which was “guilty”
And one request
From the system

All he would ask
After doing his deed
Is to be alone
In a white room
Food and water
No other thing
Nothing but him
A false noble

Thursday, 17 December 2015

Asking For Mercy

I ask God for mercy
But I doubt God’s there
Yet I do obtain mercy
Question is from where

Will I have it again
Or not anymore
How much is left
And when will there be no more

For if God were there
God would know me well
That’d I’m more suited
To go straight to hell

If God were there
Would God hate my doubt
Would God feel betrayed
That I am not fully devout

For if God is merciful
And mercy’s brought
Would God be mad
That my belief is naught

God knows I’m not worthy
God knows of my flaws
If God gives me mercy
Then should I pause

Pause to give my blessings
Given that I do get them
Or is it simply ability
And not from Bethlehem

Does God give me mercy
Or do I give myself that
Will either come to me
Or is my hope flat

Why must I not know
If mercy comes to me
But if it very well does
Is it God or my ability

Wednesday, 16 December 2015

Violet Blinds

In Venezuela, there was a certain constant that always emerged throughout my year, aside from the constant complaining of the current president. That constant meant that I was to embark on a path that went through the suburban areas near my house, the city/slums of the capital and the mountainous highway that lead to tunnel after tunnel after tunnel. It meant seeing so many red and orange bricks, that I could somehow manage to convince myself that there were multiple shades of them. It also meant a pit-stop in the middle of nowhere to collect plantain chips and pork rinds so as not to drive ourselves insane from the lengthy journey. Though to be fair, the journey was short and the destination was always a wonderful experience.

We would oversee a red arch with a black gate where my mother would hand information to a man in a booth, which then opened the gates to a rose-concrete building that somehow merged with those same red bricks that I had seen so often. This place contains my most vivid first memory of seeing its sparkling pool and beautiful foliage. It was the place where time seemed more like a trivial detail than an absolute necessity to be aware of it all costs. This place was Aguasal, located in Higuerote. Higuerote was a quaint city, though even calling a city seemed bizarre when comparing it to here. Aguasal was a club/resort/apartment near the highway which to me was sort of a summer home. Funnily enough, Aguasal didn’t make Higuerote seem like a city.

Aguasal was more of a state of mind than it was a place. The hallways either led to an abundance of plants or the shining pool in which one could oversee another rose-red building on the other side with similar hallways. The hallways had their lights off in the morning, which with the light of the sun coming in at the other end seemed slightly disorienting. The hallway itself was not short enough to be illuminated completely by the rays nor long enough that it seemed as though it was a train that was on the other end. This length is the most striking to me because it filled me with a sense of familiarity and mystery.

The pool itself was shaped like a snowman with the smallest circle being the shallow end and the larger head being the deepest. It was hilarious to see, but in seriousness, I had never seen the water so crystal. I do not believe that this is nostalgia clouding my vision so much as it is how the weather works in Venezuela. Swimming in those waters made me so free of any worries and carefree than before that leaving those waters would also leave me temporarily fixed. I would glance at everyone else, and these notions seemed more accurate. Even those who were not swimming were happily chatting or playing a game of dominoes by the pool, as evident by their laughter or the clacking of the pieces on the frosted glass tables. Across from the pool was the football field, a restaurant/bar made completely of logs and straw and two rectangular patches of sand and dirt in which old men would play a variation of lawn bowling called bolas criollas. Here I understood better the mentality of a friendly small town community than I ever did from speaking to someone who seemed to be vehement in asserting that they came from one. There were neither pretenses nor standards; everyone lived to the limits that were possible for them and they were happy with what they had. Anyone could be part of any conversation if they so wanted to, for there was no feeling of being alien in that place.

Each visit to Aguasal brought back some sort of memory. From going to a buffet at a nearby resort where the ceiling was swarming with bats, to going to a lavish inn that was just a walk away, with a pool that was more of an odyssey than a hedge maze could offer, to a water fight between the two buildings at the snowman pool, to hunting for Easter eggs in the apartment, this place etched itself inside me and gave me energy to live. So much that it may be blinding the reality of the situation, that perhaps all these visits were merely mundane moments that I had the luxury to participate it. That perhaps in spite of all the smiles I saw that there were moments more awkward to recall, often recalling a family situation. I can’t shake away the glimmering lights of the stadium at night so much as I can the moment that my drunken uncle said the f-word for a reason I still cannot quite recall. Perhaps what I am doing in the end is clinging to memories because I didn’t have the mental fortitude at the moment to appreciate them. I’ve ripped apart a picture and assembled it again to suit my needs.

Perhaps this is simply the ever-longing struggle that the self-aware mind has with nostalgia. One cannot just assume that all that was good before was all-encompassing in the past. That while one could enjoy themselves before, they were not only doing that. It’s not that I can disagree with it, I know that the building had it cracks. I know that my appreciation for it has only increased because I am absent from it. I know that I have not yet had a fling or a surge of independent exploration there that I often wish I did. That’s not to say that what I was left with is simply the by-product of a vision through rose-colored glasses. I’m wearing jaded eyes too, and what I can see is simply the violet windows and the white blinds merged together by the light of the stadium to expose my soul to a sight that I can only see there. I cannot see that sight in the same way I did before. Often I wonder if I’ll ever be able to see it again.

Tuesday, 15 December 2015

All I Had Was A Pint

And now I shall regale you with a first year experience of mine.


On a Friday, I spoke to a Peruvian woman who I met at a party at a Starbucks in a library. I can remember so very little from that conversation, not because of what happened afterwards but because it was an awful combination of mundane, pleasant and awkward. Mind you, I’m not referring to the pleasant nature of a wonderful moment so much as I mean the pleasant nature of common courtesy which carries with it a very subtle air of disinterest masked away from a cheerful grin. The conversation was scattered with silence that I had to try to break and she would often let her voice trail out with the whisper of how she was more focused on graduating than anything else. She’d smile from time to time, but she looked around too much for me to think that I had completely engaged her.
The only remarkable compliment I received was “that I was funny”, so I could imagine that at the very least I was fun. Which I wasn’t really having much of at the time. When we parted, I was left to analyze the night, leaving me to debate with myself. Thoughts ranged from “You did alright, I’m sure she’ll talk to you later” to “Man, you really shouldn’t have said you didn’t have any other plans tonight” to “You are wonderful at fucking everything up” to “Jesus Christ why the hell are we walking in the cold?”, the last one of which I was more interested in resolving since I was aimlessly trudging through the Torontonian tundra whilst I thought about this thing for more time than it was worth. Perhaps it was better to relax and watch a movie and then later have a drink.
Aside from the picture, not much else caught my attention. The Scotiabank Theatre doesn’t have the same chances of an interesting sight as a dilapidated motel next to a strip club unfortunately. So I was left to peruse for a bar, eventually finding one that was still open at midnight. I went in and asked for a pint.
“Can I help you sir?”
“Yes, can I have a pint of Guinness, please?”
“Okay, will there be anything else?”
“Not on my budget there is…” I muttered sleepily
“Nothing”. Everyone around me was talking to someone so candidly, and yet I was left alone once again to my own devices. The lights managed to feel dimmer as I was there, and for a while I was hoping that they would just fade out completely. At least I didn’t have to be reminded of my situation. Though I think what made me more upset is realizing that my dinner was basically a bag of popcorn and Maltesers. “Here you are, sir,” the bartender responded as I gazed upon the dark brew in its trademark glass. Without hesitation I took a few sips and then took another glance at the people around me. They were having a good time, and as much as things could have gone better, I realized had a good time too. I watched a movie, I socialized with someone for a bit, it can’t be that much of a failure.
A few more sips later and I stared at the TV screen, noticing how calming the glitched feed seemed to me. It was an ocean of static, blurring the commercials with the tennis match to produce displays of color that only machine would be capable of creating. Downing the whole glass, I spun my head around and felt way more dazed than I should have. “All I had was a pint…why am I feeling like I had 12? Holy fuck…” the bartender turned her head from my muttering. “I’m fine, I’m fine…just gonna go now,” I stumbled down and walked to what I could best assume was north back home.
For the next hour or so, I had found myself in the most isolated parts of the city. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the time or the weather, but a part of me was certain that it was neither. My feet were stepping on the ground of a suburban ghost town and each crackling of the snow against my shoe was getting the attention of someone. The creaking of metal hinges and the darkness of the alleyways was comforting at times, either knowing that someone was there or that no one was there. Yet those same thoughts had me on the verge of paranoia, shouting for at least something to fill the space.
As I tried to find my bearings, others were finding theirs. I was startled by a silent, stoic homeless man who covered his face and extended his hand for change, almost as if he was a statue. In fact, it was a statue. My frantic dash led me in a neighbourhood where a man was leaving his house for god-knows-what reason. I yelped at the sight of him coming out of the house. I heard him shout something, but I was too far away to make it out. I know that he must have said at least one curse. Once I was in a more “populated” area, I asked a passerby how I could get to where the ROM was as that would then help me have an even better idea of where to go.
“Excuse me, do you know how to get from here to where the ROM is?”
“Yeah, I think you go, uh…west.”
“You sure? I think you go more eastward…”
“Let me just find it on my phone.”
“Smart idea, very smart,” I still felt my head gyrate like a Tilt-A-Whirl starting up. Or slowing down. Quite frankly, either one sounds awful, but at least it’s wasn’t going at full speed.
“Well here you are…that’s where the ROM is.”
“Ah, yeah, I am supposed to go east then.”
“I guess you were right.”
“Thank you!” I bounced and slid about from street to street, finally getting to my residence. I got on to the elevator and slid down to the floor, breathing deeply and checking my watch. It was 2 AM or so, which probably meant that my suitemates were still up. When it came up to my floor, I waltzed out and pushed the unlocked door open with my foot. I grabbed a glass of water and laid down on the sofa for a while, and heard one of my suitemates open their door and come out to see me. “Dude, are you drunk?” he asked.

“Not really…all I had was a pint.”

Monday, 14 December 2015

Sunday, 13 December 2015

Honest Ed Mirvish Skirmish (Or The Bargain Again)

So for any of you who are in Toronto, you may know about a store called Honest Ed's. Honest Ed's is a giant department store which was created by a man named Ed Mirvish. He's sort of the Canadian Rockerfeller, a businessman with an incredible panache, wonderful showmanship and an air of altruism. He built the store, offering boatloads upon boatloads of deals up the wazoo. The guy reeks of 50s salesman charisma, with tons of corny lines and antique posts scattered throughout. Sadly, his place is soon to go bust (right after I celebrate my US legal drinking age b-day) and be replaced with condos because Toronto hates its own landmarks. Pretty soon they'll be knocking the CN tower over and then Toronto will be completely devoid of any personality of its own, converting it completely into the Hollywood North ideal that it has been for so long. Since I have a limited time to relish in its glory I figured I would buy a few DVDs off their bin and give them a look see, just so I could give a few more cents to this old, soon-to-be-gone relic. It's about the biggest favor I could do for it.

In The Loop

First up is this 2009 British film which I had very little idea it was even British at all because I saw Gandolfini on the cover. It's about a minister of international development having trouble falling in line with the UK government's agenda regarding the Middle Eastern conflict, a young man who's trying to help the minister and an assistant to the American secretary of state deals with the trouble of a paper of hers that was cited by her superior. It focuses on the buzz that causes a few fuck-ups to come tumbling down into a greater political conflict. The film has a waft of aggressive political satire that can only be mustered by religious House of Cards viewers who use 1984 as their own jizz rag. There's a handful of swearing and dickish attitudes, which while understandable, gets to be burdening. I'm not going to say that I have a very idealistic view on current politics but the overbearing mean-spirited nature just makes the cynicism of the film come off as trying to be provocative rather than actually being such. That being said, it is limited to Peter Capaldi's character, who pretty much is a bitter Scottish enforcer to the minister and this douchebag who keeps taunting the assistant about the popularity of the paper. The rest of the film sort of works off this quirky Office-like environment. Though maybe that's the cinematography talking.

There are cutesy little scenes though, like James Gandolfini, as a general, is using a children's play-toy computer to input numbers as he's discussing it with the American secretary of state, and the man who keeps the minister in check talking with the assistant at a bar where heavy metal is playing. And there is the wonderful "It'll be difficult difficult lemon difficult" line that the young man says. Somehow the momentum and the energy of the film can dip to be a lot less sardonic or spiteful and just carry the interactions well enough, but other times it cranks up the pompous level just for the sake of being caustic. It all seems like a bunch of filler for the commentary which can be boiled down to "politics is a shit-storm and a clusterfuck and independent thought there will get you nowhere", which I don't quite mind if it's done in an engaging enough way. While it's nice to see James do his schtick for brief periods of time and Steve Coogan in a cameo role, it's not enough to make this interested. It's drab chatter passing off as smart conversation.

Dirty Deeds

Speaking of American portly actors starring in 2000s-era movies in Commonwealth countries, here we have John Goodman in a 2002 Australian mobster flick about American gangsters weaseling in the Aussie gambling scene. Again, I was surprised to find that there was a foreign angle to the story but it's even more odd to consider the concept itself. Australian mobsters. I would not imagine that being something that a person thought would be a suitable idea for a movie. Now, far be it from me to knock mobster movies that don't take place with Italian or American mobsters. In fact I'm more inclined to welcome those ideas. To it's credit, the actors as the mobsters aren't far-fetched. It still takes me a while to get though the accents but their mean attitudes and sharp suits sure as hell make them fit for the role. I especially like Bryan Brown, playing as the lead gangster, he perfectly captures the mannerisms of a gangster while making it his own. John Goodman himself isn't that bad either, but its more of his raspy voice and used car salesman look that sell it than his acting at times.

The movie itself manages to create it's own style with its cinematography, it messes around with color, it takes advantage of angles for the appropriate scene and it carries the flair of Scorsese with its content and certain editing choices, without going overboard. It's fast, it has some witty back and forths and a lot of the shots carry the energy of the scene. Though the movie also gives way to the somewhat amateurish production by feeling the need to fill the void with generic music and the basic Windows movie maker transitions, it also tries to experiment with the fancy way it goes about shooting flashbacks and the types of scenes it uses to develop the story. It teeters from creating its own mark with creative scenes and the Australian scenery to losing its mark with its less-than-polished writing. Oddly enough, it makes the creation of pizza be an important element in the story, that at least wins some points for me. While I don't think it'll break any new ground, it is fun to see what they'll come up with...though you might have to deal with a few Dutch angles here and there.


There seems to be a theme going on here. I mean now we have Zach Galifinakis in a 2008 dark comedy. At least this time it's in the ol' US of A. It's a dystopian future where people salute each other with middle fingers and everyone's stuck in the drudgery of bureaucracy. Zach plays as an office worker who finds himself concerned about the dreams he has due to recent explosions that are caused by unsatisfied people. Dreams are considered a dangerous element. It's clear to me that this suffers much in the same way that In The Loop did. Though the difference is that here it's coming off as too obvious rather than too aggressively. It's awfully dry with it's commentary and the concepts are very basic. Though, I do enjoy how perfectly they capture the banality of their themes. The scenery indicates a not-too-distant future world, with the office having plain and unappealing colors and most of the shots being less concerned with the details and feel very impulsive when they're close-up or background shots. Scenes often feel lifeless and cold but it ends up working.

It's bizarre, this movie's not at all subtle and this sort of obnoxious anti-consumerist work annoys the hell out of me, but this work fascinates me somehow. It reminds me of Tim and Eric at times, with a very awkward and off-beat feeling and the cheeky corporate mockery, but it's a lot more dark and a lot less concerned with being disgusting and ugly. It's really uncomfortable and the laughter comes off as a jerk-reaction to how broken and detached it is at one moment and then how silly and surreal it becomes. It's serious demeanor breaks down more as you see how everything slowly starts to collapse, both in Zach's descent into madness and the more absurd moments like how he dreams of being George Washington and the educational video, but then it builds up as the shards morph up. It'll make you roll your eyes for the first while, but little by little those eyes will stay in place and perhaps widen at the jaos that comes about (that's not a typo, that's how they say chaos in this movie).

Find Me Guilty

Sadly now, we gotta break the chain of fat funny-ish American actors and instead go with something more muscular. Find Me Guilty is a 2006 mafia film which stars Vin Diesel as a Lucchesi mafioso who decides to represent himself in one of the largest criminal court cases that the mafia has ever come across after recently being arrested and made a deal to rat out on the family (which he doesn't do because Jackie D don't rat). Yes, Vin Diesel plays a mafioso. Something which I had a hard time believing initially. But I really shouldn't have. Much in the same way that Dinklage pulled off being a lawyer in this film, the role was carved out for his sort of character and was able to allow him to branch off a bit further too. Dinklage is very good at being forthright and clinical, and the movie emphasizes that while also keeping him more reserved and dignified. Vin, on the other hand, is great at being a side-character. He's great support for comedic and serious moments. Having him more central to the plot allowed him to further push those boundaries and go for something larger. There was more dimensions to him as well as more moments to have him shine, be it humorously or dramatically.

It's also worth noting that this movie was directed by Sidney "Dog Day Afternoon and 12 Angry Men" Lumet. Quite frankly, that shocked me because while the film was great, I would have never thought it was a product of Lumet. The stylistic choices are far different, along with the soundtrack and general tone of the film. Most of the film is sort of this comedy of a wacky wise guy being both a benefit and a burden to the rest of his crime family's defense. It's got wonderful little moments of Diesel basically being completely tone-deaf in court and making really crass statements, and then the other half is the general turmoil of the case itself, with the relationship between Vin's character and the rest of the world. Perhaps one point that really convinced me that it was not only good but also the work of Lumet is when Vin Diesel's character has to confront a family member of his in court that basically is the reason why he's in court. The tension and the emotion that came through that scene was absolutely stunning and it completely convinced me that Vin Diesel has a lot more to offer than I previously thought. You know, aside from the video game and his love for D&D.

The Cat O' Nine Tails

Need I say more?

Saturday, 12 December 2015


(This last sketch I totally understand them leaving out though. It was more like a performance art piece that fucked a comedy sketch and then gave birth to this creature that was then raised by someone who is constantly sleep deprived)


(Darkness. A spotlight is on the Host, wearing a get-up similar to Rod Sterling from the Twilight Zone series opening. Omnimous music plays. Or smooth jazz)

Host: (moves stiltedly, has a manner of him reminiscent of Hitchcock) Solemn. (beat, picks up dictionary that is not Webster) Webster defines solemn as marked by grave sedateness and earnest sobriety. (closes book) It is a feeling of great horror and tragedy together, like the absence of a true love or an onslaught of midterms. Like finding your poor dog Sampson limping ever so slow to grab the square-looking chew-toy you toss to amuse him before his final moments. (melodramatic) Oh, how that makes me so solemn! (tosses book away). I trust that you are not solemn this night. (beat) But you will be. Sometime in your life, you will be.

Master Jackson: (offstage, like a ghost, and nearby) Oh yes, you will be…

Host: That, out there, shouting in the far, far, (accentuated) far distance is Master Jackson. Jackson is a solemn fellow himself. (beat, turns 180 degrees to the other side, posing dramatically) Oh, he died a horrible death! (pulls out a flask) It was too much lick-er inside his li-ver. (downs the whole flask, tosses it to the floor). Oh, how solemn.

(Master Jackson enters. Clearly Master Jackson is a woman who is very much alive. She picks up the flask and speaks in a very normal-volume tone)

Master Jackson: Where are the contents inside of this flask I handed to you?

Host: (acting like someone who’s never gotten drunk would imitate a drunk person) Inside my sto-mach, good sire! Ha ha!

Master Jackson: There was nothing in there, but water and lemon. I needed that for my morning jog. What a cretin you are.

(Host snickers “drunkedly”)

Host: Well at least I’m not the one who’s late! (laughs loudly)

Master Jackson: Oh, how I worry about you…(exits as Host stumbles about like a fool)

Host: (stands back up rigid and cold) Solemn. See how solemn Master Jackson was. After realizing his life has gone away from him, and that he may not taste his booze once more in the afterlife. What a pity. (beat) But that is what being solemn is about. Facing the negative. Be it the balance of your bank account or the score you got on an assignment. Negative. (beat, puts head down, cries for a while) SOLEMN!

(Coffee Servant enters)

Coffee Servant: Here you are.

Host: (grabs onto the Coffee Servant, spilling the coffee on themself) Where were you when I needed you?! When I saw a dead man going through my house...shouting at me?!

Coffee Servant: Calm down, that was just…

Host: (invades the personal space of the Coffee Servant) Master Jackson? The drunk fuck who snuck a duck and a buck to his…ass!

Coffee Servant: You’re spilling the coffee…

Host: (looks at themselves, solemn tone) So I am. Forgive me…I am so scared of my own demise. Upon seeing poor Master Jackson deceased

Coffee Servant: She’s not dead. You’ve just been worrying too much. Maybe it has to do with the fact you’ve had 10 coffees already and it’s 2 AM

Host: (thinks about it for a while) Nah, I don’t think so. Though I wish it were that simpler.

(Coffee Servant slowly exits)

Host: Everyone around me is so cold. So worried. So…solemn!

(8 enters in, having a plain mask that just has the number 8 on it)

8: Eight, eight, eight!

Host: Oh no…it’s you!

8: Eighteight?

Host: I feared that you were the cause of all of this!

8: Eight. Eight eight. Eiiiiiiight…(really fast) eighteighteighteighteighteight!

Host: No! Please haunt me no more! I dare not think of you anymore

8: Eight!

Host: No!

(repeat last two lines 3 more times, each more dramatic than the last)

8: Eight…y

Host: AHHHHHHHHhhhhh wait what?

8: Eighty. (beat) Minus eight minus eight.

Host: Oh…oh lord. Oh lord! So all of this madness can be averted? I am still safe?! Oh good. I can no longer be solemn anymore.

8: Yeah, I guess you’re good. But Master Jackson is still going to kill you for this.

(Host is in shock)