Using Your Jetpack To Piss Off The Elevator Guy

Posted by Doug Helle on Wednesday, October 25, 2017

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Enter Sandman

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Art And The Unscene

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Generation Of Derision

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Grimace’s Revenge

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Those Paranoid Little Fuckers

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End Times

This is stupid.  I keep on and off with this site and I don’t know why.  All it has done is provide idiots access to me who I don’t want anything to do with.  I put up a new page on Facebook.   It’s kinda a fan page but only significantly more positive.  Well a lot more positive.  It has less than 100 followers but somehow reaches upwards to 15,000 people.  It literally shows stats.  So for some reason or other everyone is paying attention but they don’t necessarily want me to know they’re paying attention.

I don’t get that.  If you don’t like me yet still follow everything I do, then that makes you a fan.

Regardless.  I’m going to stop writing on this actual site.  What I’ll do is embed my Facebook page on here.  That way if I have you blocked on Facebook you’ll still be able to see it here.  Or not.  I’m not sure.  But I do know that you won’t be able to troll me there because you can’t be an incognito little coward.  Ouch.  Don’t worry.  You can still comment on here till the chows come home.  There just won’t be anyone to read it.  You can use it for an outlet for your hostility though.

Facebook has proven a much more reliable medium for getting my words to the masses.  I have people liking my posts that I idolize.  It’s great.

So we’ll start giving the whole Facebook on here site a spin tomorrow.  I’m just hankering too hard for Fallout 4 right now.

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Let There Be Bass

There I was.  21 years old.  I was doing my first stint in rehab.  I didn’t actually have a drinking problem.  But I thought I did.  I was the type of person who would wake up with a hangover and decide I needed help, for that one night of over-indulgence.

I met a fella in there by the name of Trevor.  His last name escapes me.  He was an intensely likable fellow who ripped on guitar.  He also had a bass kicking around.  I had always wanted to be a bass player.  Growing up there was just no money for instruments.  Here I was rock bottom without a penny.  But Trevor had a bass.

I chose bass because it had four strings.  That was it.  There was my logic.  Four strings vs six.  Therefore, it must be an easier instrument to learn.

That was in 1994.

What a crazy year 1994 was.  Not in a political sense.  Well maybe it was but I don’t do politics.  I certainly don’t pay enough attention.  That year started off with a bang.  Well, it started off with a club to the knee.

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Poor Nancy Kerrigan wants to know why something so insidious could happen to poor her.

A figure skater by the name of Nancy Kerrigan was attacked by some goon the ex-husband of her rival, Tonya Harding.  This guy clubbed her in the knee, trying to sabotage her chances in the coming Olympics.  It was quite a funny story.  Very scandalous.  Ultimately neither one of them would win the gold.  Some pretty Russian girl won.  Nancy Kerrigan did manage to snag the silver.  Tonya Harding would be subject to ridicule that only faded recently.

About three weeks after the knee-clubbing incident, Lorena Bobbitt was found not-guilty for cutting off her then husband’s wang.  Apparently she was considered insane.  I don’t know.  I think some people need their wangs cut off, particularly ones who are abusive.

I was kicking ass in rehab.  I couldn’t put down Trevor’s bass.  I was pathologically committed to it.  I was big into The Ramones at the time.  I had seen them live that year at Lulus in Kitchener with my girlfriend.  I was hooked.

Playing bass came easily and naturally.  I played by ear.  I didn’t know any of the notes.  I just played what I heard.

When I got out of rehab I moved in with two other dudes.  One of them had a bass he didn’t mind me using.  It was an old Hohner.  And use it, I did.  Within two months I was in my first band playing Ramones covers.

Then BAM!  It happened.  Kurt Cobain was found dead in his Seattle home.  Alleged suicide.  I believe to this day it was suicide and all the sensationalism mongering that goes on in regards to his death sickens me.  But everyone loves a good conspiracy I guess.

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About a month after that they gassed John Wayne Gacy.   I don’t remember his execution as well as I remember Ted Bundy riding the lightning.  John is kinda a blur.

About a month after that, Nicole Brown Simpson and her 25 year old boy-toy were found murdered.  Then came the white bronco chase.  So iconic.  What a weird time that was.  OJ was one of America’s sweethearts.  I loved him in the Naked Gun movies.  Now he was on the run for murder.  It was all so surreal.

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I kept at the bass.  It was quickly dawning on me though that I was a one trick pony.  All I could really play was punk rock.  I was nothing more than another Dee Dee Ramone.  But I had incredible stamina and speed.

The New York Rangers won their first Stanley Cup in 40 years, beating the Vancouver Canucks.  This prompted the suckiest fans in the league (next to the Senators) to riot and vandalize the city.  It was an embarrassing day for Canada.

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That was also the end of being a baseball fan for me.  I used to be a big Jays fan.  But after that strike in 94 it just completely ruined it for me.  I stopped watching baseball completely.  Also, my obsession with music and bass guitar was taking precedence over just about everything in my life.

Then something fucking huge happened to me.  I was watching Woodstock 94′.  My girlfriend had a “Black Box’.  Back in the early 90s, black boxes hijacked signals for Pay-Per-View channels.  I was a music superfreak and STOKED about watching Woodstock.  I couldn’t wait to see Violent Femmes, Nine Inch Nails, and Porno Pyros to name a few.

The format was a little shotty.  From what I understood there were two stages.  While you were watching a band on TV a little box would periodically show in the bottom right corner of video footage from the other stage.

While Traffic was playing, a little box popped up in the corner that said Green Day.  I had no knowledge about them at the time.  But in the little box, I could see a little guy with blue hair jack-hammering on a guitar while mud soared at the stage like eagles.

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Once Traffic were done playing it switched to the Green Day performance right in the middle of Welcome To Paradise.

FUCK ME.  Bear in mind this is back in 1994.  There was no Minority.  There was no American Idiot or Wake Me Up When September Ends.  This was a furious little punk rock trio of three very young adults.  They were tighter than a frog’s butt.  There was NOTHING like them in the mainstream at the time.

I was floored.  I bought Dookie.  I learned to play all the songs off it very fast.  Mike Dirnt is an enormous influence of mine.  They lost me after Nimrod but all the albums before that are very solid efforts in my book.  They really helped break the chains that were holding me back as far as bass playing goes too.

How was your 1994?  Were you even alive then?  Let me know in the comments below or fire me an email.  Thanks guys.


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It’s Good To Rock

In the wake of yesterday’s tragedy, I feel a sense of responsibility to say something on the matter.

Ladies and gentleman, I implore you not to try to make sense of this senseless act.  Rational words will never fully justify irrational behaviour.  We can debate terrorism.  We can debate religion, gun control, and mental illness.  Or we can beat a dead horse until it starts talking.

Broadening our understanding of the insidious aspects of life will not stop these things from happening.  Our world will never be perfect.  Stricter gun law will not end these tragedies.  Nor will declaring war on terrorism.  You can’t blame religion for this.  Even when people buy whatever it is you’re trying to sell, there will be the people who oppose it.  There will always be conflict.

There is no solution to the problem.  Life just fucking sucks sometimes.  But it is life after all, and it has to AND WILL go on.  Every single one of us have a responsibility and the power to employ an active role in perpetuating good.

Give the ones you love a hug.  Play the music that pleases your ears and makes you happy.  Take a chance and let someone know how you’re feeling about them.  Be the absolute best person you can be, taking as few casualties as possible.

Most of all, accept that life is going to be a little fucked up sometimes, but further accept it can also be very beautiful.  I don’t have solutions.  But I do have thoughts on the matter.  And these are it.

There is no scholastic perspective.  Just my feelings.  Whether they are valid or not, there are at least 15,165 people who are paying attention.  I implore you people to love hard.  Love will always be a more powerful force than hate.  Be a creator, not a destroyer.  When you fall on the street, don’t be the person who thinks someone is going to run you over.  Be the person who knows someone is going to help you up.

It’s not a cliche.  The laws of attraction exist.  You get what you put out.

I love you all, and thank you for making my life a worthwhile endeavour.

Doug Hell

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He Thrusts His Fist Against The Post

Listen here, Mushchietti.  Mushietti?  King?  Brian DePalma?  I don’t know who wrote the script for 2017’s IT, but that was some bad fucking writing.  I know I touched base a little with this one on Facebook, but I’ll say it again.

After the apocalyptic rock find (Anthrax providing the soundtrack), RIchie Tozier yells at Henry Bowers, “Go blow your dad, you mullet wearing asshole!”.  That right there sunk the movie for me.

EVERYONE had a fucking mullet in the 80s.  A mullet wasn’t something that was made fun of.  In fact, I am almost positive the term, mullet, hadn’t even been coined at that point.  Bad fucking writing.  I know you wanted to make Richie a funny guy and whatnot like the book, but that was just pathetic.  I’d like to see Trashmouth call David below a mullet wearing asshole.

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A lot of gripes I hear, are people complaining the movie tried too hard to be Stranger Things.  Well people, I haven’t seen Stranger Things so I can’t offer my derelict, but witty, perspective.  But I do know that the Stephen King story about an entity that takes form of your worst fear has been around since the 80s.  So perhaps Stranger Things tries too hard to be IT.

There was also the obligatory complaint of bad CGI.  This is getting old.  It’s not a complete day unless bad CGI is complained about.  This has bad CGI.  That has bad CGI.  Just stop now.  It’s the movies.  Please stop.  I couldn’t imagine the cost or time or effort it would take using costume and make-up to make a guy morph between a fangy clown and other ghastly things.

Seriously though.  I was GEEKED about the 2017 version of IT.  I along with billions of others watched the teaser trailer rubbing my hands together with glee.  I remember seeing the woman posting a picture of Patrick Hockstetter as missing.  That thrilled me to no end.  Patrick Hockstetter was easily the most disturbing brat in Henry Bowers’ gang.

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That would not be so in the 2017 version. Patrick is just there by name, I am afraid.  His big bit?  He sprays an aerosol can and lights it to produce a torch effect that Gene Simmons would scoff at.  Yes people.  Oh wait.  He’s also tall.  Unlike the aforementioned Gene, Patrick achieves this feat without the aid of high heel boots.  So there’s that, right?  He’s the tallest member of the bullies, and he lights aerosol spray.

Run for your fucking lives.

In the novel adaptation, Patrick smothers his infant little brother, jerks off Henry Bowers, kidnaps and kills the local pets by suffocating them in an old fridge.  He’s just your typical boy next door.  Boring.

And what the fuck is up with Henry Bowers?  He barely has any screen time.  His flunkies Belch, Victor, and the aforementioned tall fire guy, Patrick don’t even provide solid support.  They don’t all chase The Losers Club into the sewer only to be picked off by IT one by one in gruesome fashion.  No.  They chill in Belch’s Firebird while Henry follows them into the spooky house and falls in a well.

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I’m struggling to figure out which interpretation of the novel I enjoyed more.  Despite my seeming ire in this text, I didn’t hate either movie.  And to be fair to both movies, there is no way in fucking hell you can get an honest adaptation of a novel that’s over 1000 pages long.

The 2017 version was superior in some aspects.  The cinematography was monumental.  It was visually stunning.  In some aspects it was much better acted.  The showdown with Pennywise/IT was much better.

But there were things about it too that drove me batshit.  I don’t know about you guys, but in grade 8, my friends and I never would have swam in our underwear, especially with a fucking girl in attendance.  Anytime before college if someone saw your underwear anywhere but a high school locker room, it was freakin’ embarrassing.  I know there will be some macho Don Juan amongst you who say you would have done it.  Well good.  You’re on the wrong site ok?  There has to be a UFC site, right?

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The house on Neibolt street was a bust too.  Come on.  I lived right down the street from where they built it in Oshawa.  It was a big thing for Oshawa.  A town known for its crack and abject self-importance was suddenly dignified by this cheesy looking haunted house looking prop.  People were going down in droves to have their pictures taken with it.  I even went down a couple times to appease whatever company I had with me at the time.  I didn’t have my picture taken with it though.  I’m not interested in going down in Oshawan cinematic history.

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I think IT really wanted to make Richie Tozier a thing, using that kid from Stranger Things.  But Seth Green’s RIchie Tozier from the 1990 version was superior.  Let’s take a minute to compare the 1990 actors to the 2017.

Bill Denbrough
1990: Jonathan Brandis (right)
2017:  Jaeden Lieberher (left)

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This is a tough one.  But ultimately I am going to have to go with Jonathan Brandis.  I found his character to be a little more likable.  His pain over the loss of his little brother seemed a little more sincere and childlike.  Jaeden just seemed a little too adulty to me. He was a little too huggy with his little brother.  I had five brothers when I was a kid and we were all way too hetero to be that hugsome.

I felt Jonathan’s pain a little more.  He emanated way more sadness it seemed.

Beverly Marsh

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1990:  Emily Perkins (below)
017:  Sophia Lillis (above)

This one is easy.  Sophia was a superior Bev.  Her acting chops were very impressive at portraying the coming of age solo female lead.  Emily Perkins was adorable in her own right and wasn’t bad, but Sophia really knocked it out of the park representing a troubled, but strong, young teen coming to grips with her sexuality.

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Ben Hanscomb

1990:  Brandon Crane (left)
2017:  Jeremy Ray Taylor (right)

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This one is tough too, but I am going to have to give Jeremy the nod.  He was freakin’ fat.  Brandon Crane was chunky.  The book made it abundantly clear that Ben is a fatass.  Jeremy was extremely convincing as a sweet little lardass bookworm with a crush on Beverly.  And lest we forget it was HIS kiss that saved Beverly from the deadlights.  *rolls eyes*

Richie Tozier

1990:  Seth Green
2017:  The kid from Stranger Things

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No brainer.  Seth Green shone as Richie.  It’s borderline infuriating how hard the kid from Stranger Things didn’t have to try because he was the kid from Stranger Things.  Yay for the kid from Stranger Things.  .

Stanley Uris

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1990:  Ben Heller (top)
2017:  Wyatt Oleff (bottom)

Really?  Who cares. To hell with Stanley Uris!  He was so unlikable in both versions.  He was poop in the book too.  Although if I really had to pick I would take the Stan on top because for some reason with his hand on his ear like that it reminds me of Leonard Graves Phillips performing live with The Dickies.

Michael Hanlon

1990:  Marlon Taylor  (left)
017:  Chosen Jacobs  (right)

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I am going to give these guys a tie.  I will give kudos to 2017 for giving Mike a little more action than the 1990 miniseries.  I don’t remember if Mike had a run-in with IT in the 90s version.  I know what you’re thinking.  Hey idiot!  If you’re going to review and write about things, should you not do better research?  I guess.  But I am lazy and honestly want to bring a new perspective to whatever this is.  But if you don’t mind, I am taking away from MIke’s moment.

I know one thing that pissed me off in the 1990 version of IT.  Henry Bowers and the gang had Mike pinned up against a wall and were going to light off a cherry bomb on him or something, only to be foiled by someone guy coming out of a store and yelling at them from across the street.  This really really really contradicts the whole mythology of the adults not caring about or seeing what was going on with the younglings.

Either way.  Both actors did a decent job of portraying Mike.

Eddie Kasprak

FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!  Here I am trying to do all this creative cutting and pasting (mostly cursing) trying to find comparison pictures and I stumbled across this nifty little video on Youtube.  There is no way in hell I am taking my hard work down at this point, so the initial pictures are staying.

Here is the blessed time saving comparison video.

1990:  Adam Faraizl
017:  Fred Savage?

They both did an alright job.  Adam was a tad wooden in the 1990 version but he was so damn cute!  Eddie was a great character and not that hard to fuck up.  Adam was a little more subdued but Fred Savage did a bit better at portraying a neurotic hypochondriac.  I just found him a tad more annoying.  But I guess that’s kinda the point.  This movie just seems to miss so many of them.


1990: Tim Curry (right)
2017:  Bill Skarsgård  (left)

I know I am going to catch it in the ear for this one, but Tim Curry wins.  Not even remotely close.  Maybe I am just old.  When I was a kid, clowns weren’t scary.  They were funny.  I laughed like hell at clowns.  Whether it was Bozo, Checkers, Sol, or Ronald Regan.  Clowns were funny.  So along comes Pennywise to use his good-natured clownish ways to charm kids into a false sense of affable security only to rip their bony little arms off and drag them into sewers.

Somewhere along the lines of time, clowns have become unfunny.  They’re scary now.  I think the 90s did that.  Maybe it’s Tim Curry’s fault.  Clowns are evil now.  This is a really hard pill for me to swallow.  This ranks up there with gay people stealing the rainbow. Much like happy clowns, the rainbow was just sort of stolen from us.

Bill Skarsgard didn’t get the memo about clowns.  Being a spring chicken himself, he done fucked up.  Followers and bandwagoners will compare his jaunt as a disturbed clown to that of Heath Ledger’s Joker.  While they were both creepy motherfuckers in their own right, they completely abandoned source material arrogantly.  I think the whole “PUT THEIR OWN SPIN ON IT” thing I keep hearing talk of, is getting old.

The Bowers Gang 1990

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The Bowers Gang 2017

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I’m not going to articulately point out the differences of the bullies.  This one is really easy.  The 1990 bullies were individually awesome.  They had a presence and did an admirable job of supporting the nefarious ways of Henry Bowers.   They were picked off one by one by the entity known as IT.  It was done in creative and gruesome fashion.  2017?  I’ll say it again.  They chilled in the car while Henry fell in a well.

Why couldn’t the 2017 version spend a little more time on the bullies?  Henry’s willingness to shoot a cat and look like he was hopped up on goofballs the second he received his dad’s knife in the mail, didn’t do a whole lot to capture his descent into further madness..

I am sitting here chuckling at the thought of Pennywise with his ten million fanged tooth grin wrapping up the knife and sending it off in the mail.

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If they were going to put Patrick in the movie then why not at least allude to his mass murdering of the naighbourhood pets?  I would have gotten the euphoric heebs from seeing him receive his comeuppance from the proboscises of a swarm of flying leeches!

Ok.  I’m running out of gas here.  This review is about as long as the novel itself.  I am really interested in knowing your thoughts on this.  Please comment below.   I will respond to your comments.  This is good new for trolls who like to beak squawk at me incognito.  But don’t you are or I’ll start moderating the comments again and I will never ever have to read your comments again and you’ll be left alone frustrated staring at your imaginary fruit baskets on either side of you.  Those imaginary baskets aren’t going to save you from yourself!!!!

Thanks guys.  Much love.

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