My heart and thoughts go out to the people of Moore Oklahoma

Join me on an expedition to the Green Inferno in the newest TonEBOi666 AMV Production. While you’re there, be sure to visit the jungle where you can see the lovely ladies of the Yanomamo tribe, and try the delicious local cuisine… (or so I’ve heard.)

I give you “Cannibal Holocaust: The TRULY SICK version”

I’m bringin’ HANSON back… YEAH!

Enjoy!

(And SHARE if you like it)

Thanks for watching!!! Stay Tuned!!!

Here’s my attempt to turn Silent Hill: Revelation into something remotely watch-able through the use of music, and clever editing. (Not to mention something that actually resembles it’s source material…)

Without further adieu, I bring you….

The Latest TonEboi666 AMV Production… (It’s NEW, ya’ll!!!)

“Silent Hill Revelation: ReDited (to actually be like Silent Hill…)”

Enjoy.

Oh yeah, and I threw a jump scare in there for all you fans of post-2000 horror movies.

Be warned, it might just “Pop” out at you…

*Check out my channel on YouTube for more of my Music Videos: TonEboi666*

I’m starting to think that news sources like ABC News and others give criminals way too much time in the spotlight.

I mean think about it, the only people who see that much fucking time in the spotlight & on the front page are celebrities and criminals! This little fact is what leads me to believe that this may be why some lowlifes commit these crimes so they can be as famous as Pamela Anderson or some other famous dickhead.

I believe that if news sources really need to share stories about criminals then maybe there should be a special section for that or something instead of HEADLINE NEWS which may make criminals feel really famous or proud of their sorry asses for committing these crimes.

The world is really a messed up place these days..

There has been a lot of static in the media about “Bullying” in recent years. This is something that really bothers me. Let me state that I’m not exactly waving a pom-pom for kids getting picked on, it’s more a sense that once again we’re going overboard trying to eradicate all sources of potential harm in our lives. In essence, going after a flea with a bazooka.

At some point you have to stop to realize that life happens in a way so that we build up our natural immunity to things. We are exposed to infections, bacteria, and situations in non-lethal doses as we grow, and as a consequence we become stronger and develop the ability to cope. To me, Bullying is just another form of immunization. When handled properly, kids are taught to handle social issues on their own. To “earn their place in the pack”, if you’ll excuse the gross over-simplification.

So what happens when we create a society free of disease and conflict? We lose our ability to cope in the event that either situation occurs. Our natural immunity, both physical and mental is lessened. We become sick, or unable to handle stress and then eventually die. I believe that this concept is chiefly to blame for the increased number of Bullying-related suicides. Our children are made to believe that being bullied is some horrible thing akin to rape, or being molested. They freak out when they get picked on, and then the situation escalates. In time, the child takes their own life as a cry for attention, or because they feel that it is the only way to escape the terrible demon that hounds them. We are killing our own children with a boogey-man we created.

Promoting a victim stance is what really puts your child at risk. Messages like these only serve to reinforce the concept of weakness, and blaming others for one’s shortcomings. Taking a stand on your own not only faces down bullies, but your own demons as well.

This is a discussion that is far from over, but for now I’d like to leave you with an anecdote from my experiences as a child who was bullied. I’m still breathing, and stronger for it. Now I’d like to share some of that strength with you.

Yes. This ACTUALLY happened to me.

Spring Lake, North Carolina…. 1996-97ish… Spring Lake Middle School… Boy’s locker room…

There’s an olive skinned lad of about thirteen or fourteen, with soft brown eyes and a body that was soft and pudding-like due to stress eating. He’d been asked several times ” Is you gay?” by the gaggle of boisterous African-American teenage girls who congregated in the corners of his classrooms like packs of feral hyenas.

He didn’t know what this term meant, or if it applied to him. His world was one populated by imaginary creatures, princess who needed saving, and Super Nintendo. He never contemplated his choice of sexual partner past the occasional tendency to enjoy looking at guys and his lack of interest in cheerleaders, that said, there seemed to be no logical reason for the fact that he was being singled out by both teachers and students alike for the purpose of ridicule.

Over time he had come to accept this. His stepfather gave him similar treatment at home, so it didn’t really seem odd that no one at school liked him either. At this point he felt like being the butt of every joke was just his lot in life. This is why what happened that day in the boy’s locker room didn’t really surprise him. He was fat, awkward, and apparently “Gay” (Even though he still didn’t really grasp what that meant). It was as if those things justified any cruel treatment he received, and he was a human cancer that all the normal kids needed to stamp out.

That day he got his punishment for existing in a particularly inventive and disgusting way. The other boys made a point to hurry into the locker room before he was able to, and a few of them formed a line which barred entry from the main area. The boy pushed against them trying to see past their shoulders, which bobbed up and down as they cackled and shoved him back out of the doorway. A few more minutes passed with cheering noises emanating from deep within the musty oubliette of pubescent excretion.

It seemed whatever was causing all the fuss had ended. The boy was confused, and felt his heart pounding through his chest. A ripple of intuition was coursing through him like icy fingers gripping his soul. The other boys who formed the barricade snickered softly as they moved out of the way. He clunked past them with trepidation, the kind of caution a person uses when walking past a pack of wolves. This situation wasn’t far from it. The coach was the kind of person who never saw anything, and did even less. The boy was on his own. If at any moment all the others decided to attack, he’d be nothing more than a punching bag made of meat. Still, sweaty and tired from class, he made his way to the locker room to change.

No one tried to hurt him, which was all the more disturbing. In fact, it seemed like they all wanted him to come in. Their eyes remained fixed on him, as if in eager anticipation of something. He turned to look at the space where his bag should have been. It wasn’t there. That’s when he noticed one boy’s eyes flicker to the side. He followed the direction of this glance to find his bag lying in the middle of the floor in a puddle of what appeared to be clouded water. Without a thought, he retrieved his bag. The sound of the bell ringing mixed with the laughter echoing of the tile walls. It was overpowering. He noticed nothing out of the ordinary besides the water on his backpack, and though his head swam, he felt relieved that the other boys were leaving and he could undress in private.

They all filed out anticlimactically. A few snickers were all that was left in the locker room besides him. The kinetic nature of his surroundings subsided, and his mind calmed. That’s when he noticed the smell…

The other boys had quite literally marked their territory. He was different. He was essentially a girl inside the wrapper of a guy, and that made them uncomfortable. Even with his undeveloped mind, he could understand that the urine soaking his belongings was a clear message that he was not welcome in that place where the other boys exposed themselves. He wasn’t a real boy.

Obviously, there were phone calls to the principal and hoops were jumped through. In the end it was decided that segregating the “Special” one from the rest of the herd was the best course of action. This solution had already been applied in most of his other classes. He spent most of his day sitting in desks which were pushed near the door, or back of the classroom.

This crap went on for a few more years, then the boy made friends, discovered the enlightenment that responsible cannabis use can bring, started thinking for himself, lost weight, grew a set, and set out to conquer the world.

He looks back from time to time and feels grateful that he was made to forge ahead on his own. As an outcast he was free from stereotype, or moral obligation. He counted himself lucky that he had to endure so much because it prepared him for the trials he could not know of, but had yet to face. Tempered by the flames of youth, he chose to let the fire consume him completely, resolute in the fact that the person he always dreamed he’d be would be born from the ashes of what he was.

Perhaps this image is supposed to inspire a feeling of pride, and acceptance for homosexual comic fans (of which there is a STAGGERING number). All it inspires in me is vomiting. First prime-time, then video games… now this? Why does every market seem to feel that homosexuals represent some magical untapped gold-mine, a demographic that has not yet been branded, tagged or fitted with a UPC code and marked as “for sale”. I have nothing against giving fans from all walks of life something to cheer about, but there has been a definite increase in homosexual characters and plots in fiction. This is not a bad thing when done in a way that fits with the tone, or type of story you’re telling. What scuffs my Gucci’s is when you take superheroes or tertiary characters from shows and movies where being gay doesn’t really serve a purpose, then make them homosexual for being homosexual’s sake.

I take issue when someone tries to turn my sexuality back on me as a marketing tool. I loved X-Men before X-men loved well, other X-MEN. Why try to pander? You already have an audience that INCLUDES homosexuals. I’m also curious as to what distinction it makes when these characters burn their way out of the closet using heat vision. The characters don’t really change, nor do the sub-plots. The only difference is who the sleep with, and the fact that I now assume they enjoy shopping for accessories in their spare time.

At the end of the day we have to take a step back and remember that these comics are action-oriented. Sure, there are tons of romantic comic series out there, but romance isn’t really center stage in this particular series. People come for the super-powers and epic struggles, not pride parades and civil unions.

I wonder where they’re registered…

Is this Marvel’s attempt to stay contemporary, or is it merely a desperate grab for new ideas. I guess it’s better for the X-Men to go gay than go out of print.

Videodrome is a piece that captures the essence of what media has become, and can ultimately transcend into being. I’m almost sure that this film had to have come way before it’s time, and as such feels like something I should have seen years ago. The film is prophetic in it’s macabre storytelling. Perhaps not in the literal sense, but somewhere in the realm of highly metaphorical conjecture. It’s morality is all over the place, but there is one clear message pervading the entire piece. We are what we watch.

Not that I’m channeling Tipper Gore or anything. I don’t believe that listening to gangsta rap is going to transform you into some gun-toting, gold-toothed Mo-Fo who busts a cap while bustin’ a sag, nor do I think that watching something racy will cause spontaneous outbursts of sexual dynamism. I do however stand firmly by the theory that watching Twilight can lower brain activity enough to classify someone as being in a coma.

Before…

After…

It’s more subtle than programming people to be assassins, and unless the X-Files was actually a documentary I seriously doubt the government is causing people to hallucinate through subliminal messages. Unless of course that person was already subject to mental illness, that is. The parallel I draw between Videodrome and reality is the shift in what we view as entertaining in correlation to the true nature of our society as it evolves, or devolves.

Reality television was much like an insidious pirate broadcast. It popped up in our prime-time lineup cleverly disguised as game shows. MTV started turning it’s cameras around and tried to capture the essence of what life was like for it’s demographic. Soon, many more voyeur-based programs appeared. Like cancer, they spread from network to network until every time slot, every possible demographic had it’s own show.

Why was it so contagious? Why was this a concept that could hold an entire world glued to it’s screen. Videodrome poses the best hypothesis I’ve heard, and one that I’ve formulated myself many times. Television is the poor man’s window to the world. The brain perceives the world around it through the senses, and what we perceive then becomes our reality. This internal reality is the world each individual actually lives in. When we watch movies or shows, we internalize a great deal of what we see. Using the film’s logic, Television becomes our primary source of reality, and eventually overrides reality itself.

Our basic need to explore the unknown is what fuels us to create any form of entertainment. It is a collective medium that allows us to do the impossible without leaving the comfort and safety of our living rooms. Reality television was the next logical step: A show that enables you to experience the life of another “real” person. In essence we can “create reality” using reality. You can be Paris Hilton for twenty minutes (though why would anyone want to?) or a animal-rights activist living in a hip San Francisco condo with seven strangers and no responsibilities beyond getting drunk and arguing with your roommates. It’s not like other shows because these people are actually doing what you see them doing. The barrier between “real” and “fiction” is paper thin.

When you blur the line that much, fiction almost becomes obsolete. With the advent of reality television, you may have observed a sharp decline in the quality of other types of programming. Reality television is cheaper and easier to produce than other shows. Seasons fly by, and we become like junkies who need more drama, more dysfunction. Before long, we’re taking our cameras into the darkest pits of New Jersey to tap the filth from it’s source. As a consequence, the refuse that usually floats to rest on the Jersey Shore washes up on our dining room floor in the form of our teenage daughters emulating Snooki.

Is this so far off from Videodrome’s addictive snuff broadcasts? Or what about it’s harmful, cancer inducing side effects? Snooki isn’t necessarily cancer, but some might consider all the camouflaged, politically-driven propaganda outlets like FOX news to be a particularly virulent strain.

If you pair this with the memory loss and brain damage caused by the constant stream of remakes, reboots, 3D re-releases, cash-in sequels and Twilight , you get a recipe for a nation of blank slates ready for programming. Perhaps it’s not damaging radiation being beamed through videos of people being murdered, but it’s definitely a form of brainwashing. Teenagers are currently raised on a diet of the most banal trash to emerge since the Teletubbies. Lackluster storytelling, practically null-dimensional characters and abstinence messages pervade this wasteland of PG-13 abominations. Is it any wonder that there are an ever increasing number of “Steph”e”nie Meyers” in the world?

Does anyone else think her jaw looks like it’s going to unhinge at any moment so she can swallow your head? Scary…

People have come to hail crap as being genius. This tells me that the brainwashing is working. Videodrome prophesied that the media would amalgamate and turn us all into dribbling buffoons. It told the story of not just one man, but a nation’s descent into blindly following whatever example it was shown, regardless of what that example was. We put stupid people on television, then we become them.

Why not just set a lawn chair out in front of a trailer park?

I applaud movies like Videodrome, and the countless refreshing foreign titles that I have the good fortune of stumbling across. Recent films like Django and Skyfall herald a return to imagination in movies, and show that sometimes the old tricks are the best. Like organic food, the elements that made older movies and shows so magical was the lack of commercial and social additives that current media tends to be saturated with. The fourth wall remained intact and kept us from being consumed by what we watch. Without all the blockage of propaganda and advertising, our imaginations were allowed to run free.

If things continue in this fashion, maybe I won’t have to follow the example of Videodrome’s protagonist in a vain attempt to change the channel.

Bang.