We Drank The Kool-Aid And We Died Young

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I was a very ambitious kid.  One morning my brother, Lawson, and I, were watching Mr. Rogers.  I was 7 and he was 6.  Everyone else in the house was asleep.

Anyway, on this particular occasion, Mr. Rogers was teaching us that we could make a pitcher lemonade and sell it for 5 cents a glass.  You could make a whopping thirty-five cents.  Back then that was enough for a can of pop and two popsicles.

In actuality, we thought Mr. Rogers was a fool.  Being smarter than Mr. Rogers, we deduced we could increase price and production, and make at least 100 dollars.  100 dollars would buy us both a new bike, with a little left over for some Wayne Gretzky rookie cards we could clothespin in the spokes to make them sound like motorcycles.

We nodded at each other and headed for the kitchen.

After a disappointing search, we couldn’t find any lemonade.  But we did have about twenty packets of Kool-Aid.  They would have to do.

In order to produce mass quantity, we would need a massive container.  We went outside to get one of the big garbage bins.  To our disappointment they were all full of garbage.  We would have to empty one of them.

We knew we couldn’t dump it anywhere on our property without getting in trouble, so we dumped it in General Morgan’s garden next door.  Thankfully that endeavour went off without a hitch.  General Morgan was fairly demented.  He probably wouldn’t even notice.

We dragged the garbage bin into the kitchen.   After emptying every packet of Kool-Aid into the bin, we dumped a whole bag of sugar in.  Next came the extremely tedious task of filling the bin with water.  We threw three quarters of a bag of milk in the garbage so we could use the pitcher to scoop water into the bin.

After about an hour we finally got the bin full of water.  It was disgusting.  There was debris and cigarette butts floating around.  We may have been young but we were smart enough to know that no one was going to pay five bucks for a cup of Kool-Aid if there was a cigarette butt floating around in it.

After the painstaking event of getting all the crap out of the Kool-Aid, we realized we were screwed for mixing it.  There was no way we could use our hands.  It just wouldn’t be enough.  We went outside to look for a big stick or pole.  Out front of the house a game of street hockey started up.  That was it.  We would use hockey sticks to stir it.  But no one in our family played hockey.  We would have to borrow a couple from Roy Tesky two doors down.  I knew he had a pile of hockey sticks in his garage because I had to poop in it a month earlier, because both bathrooms were being used in our house.

Getting the hockey sticks was no problem.  Just had to open up the garage door and head on in.  We didn’t bother closing it.  We would do that after we returned the sticks.  We didn’t want to make too much work for ourselves.

When we returned to the kitchen we happened upon our baby brother, Ehran.  Ehran was only three.  He was standing there in his Snoopy pajamas frowning at the big bin of Kool-Aid.  When we walked in he looked at us beseechingly.

“Forget it, Ehran.”  I said.

“Not unless you have five bucks.”  Lawson said.

Ehran glared at us both and left quietly.   We began the daunting task of stirring the bin of Kool-Aid.  After a few minutes of this, Ehran returned and thrust a twenty dollar bill at us.

That was the most money we had ever seen in our lives.  I greedily snatched the money from him just as my dad came walking into the kitchen.

“GIVE ME MY TWENTY BUCKS BACK!!  He thundered.

His eyes fell upon the site in the kitchen of Lawson and I in our underwear stirring a garbage bin full of Kool-Aid.

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!!?!?!?” He roared.  He was incandescent with rage.  Everyone out front of the house stopped playing hockey.

I calmly explained our venture to him while Lawson doled out four cups of Kool-Aid for Ehran.  Just then there was a loud irritated knock at the door.  It was Roy Tesky demanding his hockey sticks back, and freaking out for leaving his garage door opened.  We would find out later his wife noticed a barrel of moonshine he’d been hiding in the garage and that was what really set him off.

Then came General Morgan hooting and hollering, waving a polaroid around.  He got a great shot of Lawson and I dumping the garbage into his garden.

Lawson and I were grounded for six months.  We also had to pay for the grass that was killed when my dad dumped the bin of Kool-Aid in the backyard.

Then the world exploded.

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Feminist Migraine

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Alright here goes.  I’ve been saying it for ages but it’s finally happen.  The first batch of songs is up.  I’m not kidding when I say they’re all going up.  I’ve been rummaging through my exterior hard drive.

So people are reaching out.  If you contact me, and I don’t message you back, there is an excellent chance I won’t.  It’s nothing personal.  Our storylines in life have merely stopped intertwining.  Your memories need to die so I can live.  I don’t think I am too good for you.  I’m just moving on.  Everything is going correctly it seems.  My old mentality in life was to break something if it wasn’t broken, and then fix it.  I can’t live like that anymore.

Also don’t try to reach out to me through my comments.  They’re moderated by someone else.  You’ll have to email me.

It is bloody hot out there.  Queen Hell, Edie, and I just got back from a walk to the lake.  I have a heat headache.  Anyone else get those?

So I must get back to uploading songs again.  Peace out, friends.

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The Mythology Of Betrayal

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You guys are great.  I left Facebook in March.  Completely.  I didn’t announce it.  I just went poof.  Usually upon leaving Facebook I try to hold a press conference, in which I am the only attendee.  But I make a big kerfuffle about leaving.  I think the longest I ever managed to stay gone for, was about three days.  Then I would be back as though nothing happened.

Anyway, I left for good in March.  I was off like a prom dress.  No Doug Hell press conference.  No going away pity party.  Just gorgeous personal exile.  Hmmm.  That doesn’t actually make a lot of sense, but I think you get the point.

So I guess me following through with something I say I am going to do, is nothing short of a miracle.  Because my departure from Facebook left a lot of people thinking I died.

I’m not dead.  I’m just daring the danger of Cabal, among other things.  I’m living quietly, and uneventfully in a picturesque town up north, beating up attacky dogs and creating art.  This is heaven.  Count it.  I am going to post the songs that come on my playlist as I write.

The mosquitoes up here are so bad.  I can’t reiterate this enough.  I hate them so much.  I don’t even like saying “hate” anymore, but I have nothing but contempt for these little creeps.  I have been using the burning spoon method to deal with the bites, and it’s been working great.  Do you actually care?  Well, just in case you do, run a spoon under hot water until it gets good and hot and then put it on your bite.  There will be a bit of RAWWWR upon contact but it’s fleeting.  It really works though.  My hot water bill is through the roof though….

So last night I had a dream that Hulk Hogan was a serial killer.  I know how ridiculous this sounds.  But he wasn’t decked out in red and yellow, luring victims into a ring in the middle of nowhere and dropping the leg on them.  He wasn’t in character.  He wasn’t NWO Hollywood Hogan either.  He was a cold and calculating menace, and for some reason we were best friends.  I wasn’t very comfortable with the savage murders, but he was my friend.  I don’t judge my friends.

In this same dream, one of my best friends, Gav Volterman, became the Sgt-At-Arms on Parliament Hill.  This is particularly hilarious because Gav is a gaming slacker, and a bit of a pseudo-intellect.  In my dream he was furious with his new job and had to wear this funny outfit that kinda looks like a Boy Scouts Of America uniform.  Like there was a sash and a funny hat.  He would show up for work with a pissed off look on his face, looking comical in his funny outfit.

At one point we were playing Mortal Kombat, which was always a pointless endeavour.  You cannot beat Gav at Mortal Kombat.  Not one round.  It doesn’t matter what kinda handicap he gives you.  You’re toast.  You can use a ridiculously overpowered character and he could use Sonya.  You’re going down.

Anyway, I let him in on the Hulkster’s dealings and Gav went postal.  Apparently it was a part of his new job description to vanquish evil from the world.

Gav arranged a wrestling match between and himself, and Hulk Hogan.  Gav would be the heel and Hogan would be the babyface.  The match took place in Kanata where that horrible hockey team plays.  It was a full house.  The match took place and Gav picked up the victory.  He shot Hogan in face while the referee was distracted by a run-in from Leaping Lanny Poffo, and Barry-O.

Hogan’s corpse argued that Gav shot him with a foreign object.  The referee argued back that he didn’t see it, thus it was a clean win.

The audience wasn’t all too pleased though.  They all turned into jellyfish people and floated toward the ring to sting the crap out of Gav.

EDITOR’S NOTE (DOUG HELL ON A LATER DATE):  THE AFOREMENTIONED GAV VOLTERMAN BROUGHT IT TO MY ATTENTION THAT IT’S PSEUDO-INTELLECTUAL.  FIGURES IT WOULD BE HIM TO EXPOSE ME TOO CONSIDERING THE REST OF MY READERS ARE A BUNCH OF ILLITERATE CUNTS WITH PISS POOR GRAMMATICAL SKILLS.  FUCK YOU ALL.  IDIOTS.

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The Blood Veins Of Beaverton

Edie was attacked today.  Queen Hell, Edie, and I were taking a walk.  As we were walking by this redneck house we were jumped by a couple of German Shephards.  Before I could pick up Edie one of them clamped on to her.  I picked the dog up by its fur coat and flung it in a fit of incandescent rage, and concern.  The dog owners came out and managed to get the biter in the house and the other one by its collar.  Naturally Queen Hell, and I, were pissed off.  It was a younger couple.  The dude looked like he just got out of prison.  One might argue the same could be said of me, and that’s fair.  But this guy literally looked like he just got out of the clink.  They apologized profusely.  Queen Hell gave them proper shit, as well as a free lesson on how to manage your own dog.

Edie was ok.  Queen Hell had scooped her up after I flung the dog.  I felt horrible.  I didn’t want to hurt the dog.  It was a knee jerk reaction.  I love Edie so much.  But I don’t think it was really the dog’s fault so much as the owner.  But I still felt bad.  When I got home I spent about a half hour with Edie, spoiling her.  After that I went back to the house of the offending dogs and apologized to the owners for throwing the dog.  The guy was really cool about it.  I am glad.  I’ll be more careful from now and I am sure they will be too.

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Forehead did an amazing job on my computer.  I have every damn arcade game known to man.  We’re talking about games I rocked in the 80s at the arcades.  I had a really, really bad video gaming habit.  I supported it much like any other any other addict supports their habits.  Any way I had to.

Fast forward to happier times.  I now have these games at my finger tips.  The games I’ve played the most over the course of the last couple of days include Black Tiger, Wonder Boy 2, Shinobi, Rygar, Bubble Bobble, Kung Fu Fighter.  I’m not as good at games as I used to be.  I used to clean house on these games.  I haven’t even come close since playing them again.  But it sure is costing me a lot less quarters.

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These blogs will soon be going video.  I miss my camera.  I used to bring that thing with me everywhere.  I was literally documenting my life.  It’s been a couple of years since I’ve had one.

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The Fall Of Doug Hell

Top 10 Weezer Songs (according to Watchmojo)

1.  Say It Ain’t So

2.  Buddy Holly

3.  El Scorcho

4.  Undone

5.  Across The Sea

6.  Only In Dreams

7.  In The Garage

8.  My Name Is Jonas

9.  Island In The Sun

10.  Pink Triangle

Are you kidding me?  Pink Triangle at number 10?  You mean to tell me Island In The Sun should be considered better?  Grrrrr.  My Name Is Jonas is debatable.  It’s a Weezer classic.  I am not going to gripe too much.  Only In Dreams?  WHAT THE DEUCE!?!?!?  What is with everyone’s infatuation with that song?  I find it bland and long.

Ok let’s discuss In The Garage at number 7.  That is straight up blasphemy.  In The Garage is Nickelback’s This Is How You Remind Me.  It’s Metallica’s Enter Sandman.  It’s Guns N’ Roses’ Sweet Child Of Mine.  For the record, I hate the aforementioned bands.  That was my attempt at being funny.  I’m starting to think that I’m the only one who finds me funny.  Anyway, In The Garage should be much higher on the list.

I just realized I discussed Only In Dreams before In The Garage.  Oooops.  Apologies.

Across The Sea at number 5.  I can work with that.  It definitely belongs in the top 10.

Undone at number 4.  Really?  Really?!  You mean to tell me that Undone is better than Pink Triangle, My Name Is Jonas, In The Garage, and Across The Sea?  Not to mention any other song off The Blue Album, or Pinkerton?  Bloody Hell.

Alright.  Number 3 is what really irks me.  Let’s talk about number 3.  I’m old.  When The Blue Album came out, I ran out to get it.  I love it, with the exception of Only In Dreams.  Only In Dreams isn’t terrible.  It’s just not really a good Weezer song, in my opinion.  Regardless, The Blue Album was a ray of light when we were being inundated by bands like Pearl Jam, Stone Temple Pilots and other macho rocktard alternacrap.

Along comes Pinkerton, Weezer album number 2.  What was their lead off single?  El Freakin’ Scorcho!  El Scorcho doesn’t not hold a candle to one song off The Blue Album.  Not one.  Not even Only In Dreams.  El Scorcho turned me, and everyone else, off of Weezer.  That was ok though.  We had The Blue Album.  El Scorcho was so freakin’ bad that no one even paid attention the the following singles, Pink Triangle, and The Good Life.  Those two songs blew me out of the water, not to mention Pinkerton as a whole.  But I didn’t even revisit Pinkerton until twenty years after it was released, because of El Scorcho.

Weezer was doomed to be one of those bands that had one amazing album and a pile of crap.  Hash Pipe didn’t do a damn thing for me.  Dope Nose made me borderline hate them.  Beverly Hills made me want to scream.  Those songs aren’t horrible either, just nothing compared to anything from Pinkerton, or The Blue Album.

But it was El Scorcho and the singles from The Green Album, Maladroit, and Make Believe that made me give up hope.  When The Red Album came out I liked Pork And Beans.  It seemed they were back on track.  The I heard Troublemaker….  AUGHHHH!!!!  Again,  not terrible.  Just not — oh never mind.

So one day I was at a party in Peterborough.  It was a bunch of friendly college folk.  They threw Pinkerton on and I was thoroughly blown away.  Blown away.  How could I have missed out on the magic that was Pinkerton?  When it first came out it was reviled by critics and fans alike.  Rolling Stone crucified it, only to recant 20 years later.  But Pinkerton is easily my favourite Weezer album, but never got a fair shake from anyone because of El Scorcho.

There are a smattering of awesome songs on later Weezer albums too.  I don’t think they have anything that is completely terrible.  I’ve yet to give Raditude and Hurley a spin.  Everything Will Be Alright In The End is a trip.  I would say it’s their third best.  They have a song on there called Da Vinci that brings a tear to my eye.  Maybe because I can relate…

Here is my Weezer Top 10

1.  Pink Triangle

2. Da Vinci

3.  In The Garage

4.  Thought I Knew

5.  No Other One

6.  Across The Sea

7.  Heart Songs

8.  The Good Life

9.  American Gigilo

10.  My Name Is Jonas

I just realized I forgot to discuss Watchmojo’s number 1 and 2.  Buddy Holly and Say It Ain’t So.  What kinda balloonjuice is that?  Can we just all agree they are both grossly overrated?  Thanks.

Anyway.  Weezer.  Is it just me that thinks they suffered a little with the absence of Matt Sharp?  Mikey wasn’t really around long enough.  I don’t think he did any backups, but I could be wrong.  He was there for The Green Album and that’s it.

Scott Shriner is kinda funny to me.  He’s a fantastic, and rock solid bass player.  He lends amazing backup vocals.  In fact he is a large part of the solidity in their live show.  BUT WHO DOES HE THINK HE’S KIDDING?!

Scott Shriner is a badass.  Just take his silly clothes and glasses off.  That guy is a bona fide shitkicker.  But in Weezer he can’t corrupt the integrity of the geeky image of Weezer.  We can all thank Weezer for making uncool cool.  But I get a good laugh out of that asskicker, Scott, trying to geek it up to maintain Weezer’s image.  I could be wrong but I’ll bet you my bottom dollar he rides a Harley….

Ah well.  I had a pile to say but I need to go to the pharmacy and renew prescriptions, or else.

 

 

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Northern Downpour

I missed your skin when you were east.

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Watchmojo is ruining my life.  If it’s not their inaccuracies and lack of research, it’s the things they get right.  Today I learned that mosquitoes are the deadliest creatures to man.  That’s right.  Those horrible mosquitoes are responsible for more human deaths a year than all the other dangerous things on the rest of the top ten.  And spare me you pseudo-intellectual mooks.  We know humans are technically animals and they’re responsible for a lot more deaths than mosquitoes.  Or are they?  Geez, I don’t even know.

I hate mosquitoes.  But they love me.  My blood type is O.  They love that.  So for those of you who wonder why mosquitoes are eating the crap out of you and leaving everyone else alone, there you have it.  Mosquitoes have favourite blood types!!!  I know.  It stinks but it’s true.  But I thought of a solution.  I am going to start breeding frogs, bats, dragon flies, spiders, and any other little creep that kills mosquitoes en masse.

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I love old Sesame Street songs.  My favourites are I Don’t Want To Live On The Moon, Born To Add, and Telephone Rock.  Born To Add and Telephone Rock make me smile like an idiot.  I Don’t Want To Live On The Moon practically reduces me to tears.  It’s easily one of the most gorgeous and heartfelt songs I’ve heard in my life.  And for me, it has to be Ernie singing it.  The Queers cover it and it ain’t a bad cover, but I need Ernie.

My newest musical discovery is Spotify.  I love it.  You should see my playlist.  Or maybe you shouldn’t.  I’m sure it will get laughs, disgust, and perhaps respect?  I don’t just listen to these songs when no one else is around.  I crank them.  Always.  Here are a few:

Duran Duran – A View To A Kill

Barbara Streisand – Woman In Love

Moxy Fruvous – Down From Above

Marc Anthony – I Need You

Bad English – Ghost In Your Heart

Monica – Angel Of Mine

Serial Joe – Completely

Hall And Oates – Adult Education

Hanson – I Will Come To You

Well that’s a few.  Laugh it up.  I love those songs.  Love them love them love them.

 

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A Love I Didn’t Believe In

And I am back on a desktop computer.  I had horrible luck with laptops.  In October I bought one that was a used hunk of crap.  I put over two hundred dollars into, alas, it remained a hunk of crap.  This was in November.  Luckily I got one for Christmas.  Well I didn’t like that one either.  It just wasn’t fast enough for all the gaming and video editing I like to do.  So I got this brainwave to just bite the bullet and get a desktop computer again.  Enough was enough.

Well I dropped the laptop two days after I put it up for sale.  At first the thing was slow.  But after a couple of days it went back to normal.  I know.  That’s not how technology works right?  Wrong.  The thing was working better than ever.  So naturally I got a call from someone wanting to buy it.

I told the guy that it had been dropped and I couldn’t sell it in good conscience, even though it didn’t seem to have any problems.  The dude came by and picked it up.  He told me that if it still worked ok in a few weeks he would give me some money for it.  What a nice guy….

So to make a long story even longer, I am back on a desktop.  I gave money to a geek friend of mine and told him to build me the best computer he could.  He did just that.

 

My office is rocking now.  I will be referring to it from here on as my Command Center.  I will blog and comment with impunity.  The only thing to stop me now is death.  I quit smoking cigarettes on March 6th.  I don’t smoke weed.  I have had two beers in 2105.  I’m a good boy.  This should increase my longevity, even if it’s just for a little while.

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Watchmojo is driving me up the wall.  I was watching a top ten on Tom Hardy’s performances.  Guess what was number one?  That friggin’ Batman movie he played Bane in.  Come on, man.  Really?  That shouldn’t have even cracked the top ten!  Tom Hardy!

Another thing that vexed me some was they had this top ten for inappropriate songs to play at a wedding.  Ball And Chain by Social Distortion was on that list.  You stupid, stupid, people.  Ball And Chain is about HEROIN.  They deduced it was about a bad marriage.  Why?  Because the song was called Ball And Chain.  I turned it off after that entry.

What in the bejesus is wrong with me?  How does a forty two year old man get all bent about such silly little things?  It’s sad.  I actually lamented about the Watchomojo thing on my walk today with Queen Hell.  Here we are walking down by the lake and I am growling about Watchmojo and their boobery.  She suggested to me that I take that undue hostility and put it into some kinda online show or something.  Kinda like shit I’ve done in the past, minus the ninety nine per cent vanity project.

Things have to be entertaining to everyone.  Not just me.  I used to make these stupid online movies and I am pretty sure I was the only one entertained by them,

Here’s the kicker though.  I know I can be entertaining to everyone when I behave like an imbecile and rant my face off about everything in general.  The only problem with that is a lot of feelings get hurt.  Or people just get pissed off at my diatribes and become mean-spirited.  That is not the behaviour I want to inspire, even for mere entertainment value.

I’ll give the idea some thought though.  I know I can pull it off.  I do have my hands in a few other projects.  There’s music.  There’s writing scripts.  Alright, I’m getting tired.  I must lay my weary bones.  Have a good night all.  You’ll be hearing from me again soon.

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