#i have faith eddie will slow down after his emotions level out and take the time to give buck a chance to explain | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sugarandspace · 3 years

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Where’s Dad? (Buddie)

Summary: The lights are still on when Buck parks in front of the Diaz house. He stays in the Jeep for a moment, gathering strength to go inside even though he knows that no time in the world would prepare him to deliver the news he’s going to have to tell Christopher.

Warnings: graphic mentions of injury and blood (no MCD)

AO3

For a moment, everything stops. For one blissful moment, Buck’s brain is unable to process what happened right in front of him.

He can’t stop looking at Eddie.

But then Eddie’s eyes fall closed and Buck knows he needs to get to him.

He snaps into action, all his senses coming back to focus in one blink of an eye. Suddenly he can feel his heart beating erratically, can feel the specks of blood drying on his face and he can taste it on his lips and it makes him want to throw up.

It’s Eddie’s blood.

There’s so much blood on the ground and Buck knows he needs to get to him, no matter that they still don't know where the shot came from. He’s not letting Eddie lie there alone.

Dying.

For one blissful moment, Buck’s mind was quiet. But as that moment comes to an end, everything is in razor-sharp focus and he has to act.

While helping Eddie and while in the ambulance with him and Chim, he has a single-minded focus. Help Eddie. Keep him alive. The blood on his face no longer matters because there’s so much of it in his hands as he’s trying to press against the wound while Chim is working next to him. Everything happens so fast but simultaneously it feels like the time is moving very slowly because Eddie is bleeding out and needs to be in the hospital now.

He knows it only takes them minutes to reach the hospital but it feels like hours.

When Eddie is wheeled in from the ER doors, the time goes back to moving slowly.

Buck feels off-balance, like there’s a fog in his mind. All that determination to help Eddie no longer has an outlet, and Buck finds himself unsure of what he should do now. Chim leads him to the bathroom. Helps him wash away all the blood. Finds him a clean shirt that Buck recognizes as the type the nurses wear.

The waiting room is full of people. Bobby must have notified Eddie’s family since Abuela and Pepa arrive not long after the rest of the team has found their seats in the room. Maddie is there too, and her comforting hand on Buck’s shoulder is the only thing that keeps Buck from falling apart. She tried to talk to him when she first arrived, probably having heard what happened from Chim, but eventually stopped when it became obvious Buck wasn’t going to talk.

The room is full of people, but you could hear a pin drop in the silence that has fallen over the terrified group.

A big portion of the fear disappears when the doctor tells them that the surgery went fine, that Eddie is stable and is expected to have a full recovery. Buck’s heart calms a little, the pressure around his lungs easing up and letting him draw in a deep breath for the first time in hours.

They are allowed to visit him, but the doctor warns them that the medication they gave to Eddie is strong, and he will be sleeping until morning. Abuela and Pepa are the first ones allowed into the room and Buck really doesn’t know to expect it when Abuela walks over to him and takes his hand, leading him in with the two women. Buck wants to thank her but his throat is blocked with emotion. It seems like she understands as she smiles at him warmly.

It’s a relief when Buck is finally able to see Eddie. He looks pale and frail in the hospital bed and he’s lying so motionlessly that Buck would be terrified if it weren’t for the steady beeping of the heart monitor next to him. They stay in the room for a while, and he wants nothing more than to stay until Eddie wakes up, but there’s something he needs to do, someone who doesn’t yet know what happened to Eddie today.

The drive back to the station to change his clothes and retrieve his car goes in a blur as Buck tries to come up with a way to tell Christopher what happened to his father today. How do you tell a child that their father got shot?

Christopher was still little when Eddie was in the army, not fully understanding the dangers brought in by a warzone. Christopher knows that his father’s current job can be dangerous at times, but getting shot shouldn’t be one of the things they’d need to worry about anymore.

But it happened, and Buck feels like he should be the one telling Christopher.

The lights are still on when Buck parks in front of the Diaz house. He stays in the Jeep for a moment, gathering strength to go inside even though he knows that no time in the world would prepare him to deliver the news he’s going to have to tell Christopher.

When Buck walks in, Carla finds him before he’s able to fully take off his shoes. As soon as he straightens up he’s pulled to a strong hug and it feels like Carla’s warm and comforting embrace is able to put some parts of his frayed heart back together. He can’t help but let out a sniffle, to which Carla responds by squeezing him harder.

“I know honey,” she says. “I know.”

They are interrupted by Christopher’s voice from the living room.

“Dad?”

It sends a pain so strong through Buck’s heart that he thinks he’s going to crumble right there.

“He doesn’t know anything,” Carla confirms. It’s what they agreed on. Christopher shouldn’t have to spend half of the day worrying when there was nothing they could do. It was better to wait until they knew Eddie was going to be okay.

It’s still going to be difficult, but at least he can tell Christopher that his father will be okay, that the dangerous part is over.

Buck refuses to spare thoughts to how differently this evening could have gone.

“Do you want me to stay?” Carla asks.

“No,” Buck says. His voice is rough from disuse. “Thank you for staying with him today.”

“You know you don’t need to thank me,” Carla says. “I love that boy. And I can stay if you need me to.”

“No,” Buck says. He appreciates the offer but it isn't needed. “It’s okay. Go be with your family.”

“If you’re sure,” Carla says. “But I’m only a call away if you need me.”

“Thank you, Carla,” Buck says. They hug again before Carla moves to the living room to say goodbye to Christopher. Buck uses the time to take a couple more deep breaths in the hallway. As Carla walks past him she reaches up to squeeze his shoulder.

“He’s going to be fine,” Carla says. “They both are. These boys are strong and they have you to help them.”

Carla’s last words are kind but Buck is struggling to accept them. There was absolutely nothing he could do to keep Eddie safe today. They are partners and they are supposed to watch each other’s backs while out on a call. Buck knows that what happened today was out of his control, and he’s getting better at not blaming himself for things like that, but at the moment everything is still a little too fresh for him to think rationally. He thinks briefly of how he should make an emergency appointment with doctor Copeland tomorrow.

“Goodnight Carla,” he says and musters up a small smile. He really is grateful for the faith she has in him, and the optimism he has about Christopher and Eddie.

“Night Buck,” she says, and then she’s out of the door.

Buck takes a deep breath and walks into the living room, finding Christopher on the couch watching a movie. It’s a little past his normal bedtime, but he doesn’t seem suspicious of being allowed to stay up later. When he hears Buck walk into the room he turns to look at him.

“Buck!” He says happily. “I didn’t know you were coming too!”

“Hi buddy,” Buck says.

“Wait,” Christopher says. “Where’s dad?”

He must have realised that his father should have been in the living room by now, greeting him with Buck and talking about bedtime. But it’s only Buck, and Buck knows that he looks a little worse for wear.

“Christopher,” Buck starts but Christopher keeps talking before Buck can say anything more. He gets up from the couch and starts moving towards Buck.

“Where’s dad?”Christopher asks as he stops in front of Buck, leaning on his crutches. His tone is confused and a little bit scared. He’s a smart kid, he knows something is wrong.

Buck kneels so he’s on the same level as Christopher. His words are quiet as he speaks.

“Your dad is not coming home tonight.”

“Why?” Christopher asks, his words slow. It’s like he’s scared to hear the answer.

“Something happened at work,” Buck says. “Your dad was helping someone and he got hurt. He needs to stay in the hospital for a few days.”

“Is he okay?” Christopher asks. Buck can see tears welling up in his eyes and his voice comes out wobbly. Buck tries his best to control his own emotions because he needs to be strong for Christopher.

“He will be,” Buck says. “I can take you to see him tomorrow if you want to.”

Christopher nods and the tears fall over. Buck pulls him into a hug when he starts crying, the crutches clattering to the floor.

“He’s not going to go away? Like mom?” Christopher asks between sobs and Buck is immediately reminded of a conversation they had weeks ago. Buck closes his own eyes tightly as he holds Christopher close.

“No,” Buck replies, making sure that his tone is steady and sure. “The doctor said he’s going to be okay. He’s just sleeping right now. He’s going to be okay.”

The reminder is as much for himself as it is for Christopher.

Christopher nods against his shoulder but keeps crying. He’s unsteady on his feet and the position is starting to hurt Buck’s back, so he picks Christopher up and carries him to the couch. When Buck sets him down, Christopher doesn’t let go, so Buck sits down next to him and settles them in a way that’s comfortable, Christopher’s arms around his neck as Buck tries to help him calm down by brushing his hand up and down Christopher’s back.

Buck thinks about how he hasn’t even told Christopher what happened to Eddie, but as he feels Christopher’s crying calm down and the sobs turn to hiccups, he doesn’t have the heart to tell him more tonight.

All the crying has worn him out and there’s no need to upset him more tonight. Christopher is a child, and hearing that your dad got hurt is traumatic enough. Telling him that it was because someone shot him, that it wasn’t an accident but rather someone actively wanted to hurt his father? Buck would rather do it before they go to the hospital so that Christopher doesn’t need to wait overnight to see his dad. Christopher starts leaning more heavily against Buck, and Buck moves his hand to brush through Christopher’s hair, hoping that it calms the boy more.

“Buck?” Christopher asks. It’s obvious the crying has worn him out and he’s on the verge of sleep.

“Yeah?”

“Will you stay?” Christopher asks.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Buck promises. “Go to sleep. You’ll see your dad tomorrow.”

“Right after breakfast?”

“Right after.”

Buck doesn’t want to keep Christopher away from Eddie any longer than he has to, and he knows that if Eddie is awake in the morning, he will want to see Christopher. They’ll both need each other.

And Buck is really looking forward to seeing Eddie awake as well. He knows that Eddie is in the clear, but he feels that only seeing him awake and talking will finally calm his heart.

It doesn’t take long until Christopher is asleep. Buck picks him up carefully and carries him into his room, setting him on the bed and tucking him in. He hopes Christopher’s rest will be undisturbed and that today’s events won’t make their way to his dreams like Buck is sure they will come to his - that is if he manages to fall asleep at all.

Buck turns the lights off but leaves the door open, wanting to be able to hear Christopher in case he has a nightmare or needs him in the middle of the night. He goes back to the living room and sits on the couch, unsure of what to do now. It’s the first time he’s alone since this morning before he went to work. So much has happened in the past twelve hours that the morning feels like a completely different life. One where things were good and none of them were in danger.

Eddie got shot today.

It brings out the worry that someone is apparently targeting firefighters, and that that someone is still on the loose. But it’s only an afterthought for Buck, who can’t forget the way Eddie looked, how he fell, how much he bled and how he almost died.

They nearly lost Eddie today.

Buck can’t keep it in anymore. There’s no one here he needs to stay strong for. No Eddie, no 118 or Eddie’s relatives, and no Christopher. Buck buries his face in his hands as he cries, letting out every tear that has wanted to escape since he was able to process that Eddie was injured. He tries to stay quiet so that he doesn’t wake up Christopher, but he cries for every terror-filled moment he’s had today, all the vivid memories that are playing on a loop in his mind, every should-have and what-if.

He lets himself feel it all.

Eventually the day catches up with his body as it already has with his mind and he feels tired, his shoulder sore from when he hit it earlier when he was pushed down. He takes the blanket from the back of the couch and pulls it over himself when he lays down on the couch, reaching for the remote to turn the tv off but not bothering with lights. Getting up feels like too much effort.

So he wraps himself in the blanket that smells like Eddie and lets his eyes fall closed, succumbing to what will probably be a very restless sleep.

#buddie #9-1-1 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie fic #my writing #i'm posting this at 4am so i know it has mistakes #but i needed to post this tonight #this is my attempt at processing even a fraction of the things we saw this week #and the things we've seen about the finale #i hope you enjoy!

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creepingsharia · 4 years

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Islamic call to sharia prayer broadcast from mosques in cities across southern California

The Islamization of America is well under way. And it will only get worse with open borders. Future generations - particularly girls and women - will ask why you sat idly by and allowed this to happen. VIDEO HERE.

PS: The mosque highlighted in this LA Times puff piece is linked to the 9/11 attacks. Read: Saudi at Culver City mosque linked to 9/11 attack

The call to prayer rang out at 7:49 on a Saturday evening as the sky glowed pink from the setting sun.

Mahmood Nadvi, standing on the rooftop, delivers the adhan, the Islamic call to prayer, at King Fahad Mosque in Culver City. Amid the pandemic lockdown, many mosques in Southern California got permission from local authorities to broadcast the adhan during Ramadan, the holiest month in the Islamic calendar. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)

Women in hijabs and masks gazed up at the mosque as the Arabic hymn floated down:

Allah is the greatest.

I bear witness that there is none worthy of worship except Allah.

Mahmood Nadvi stood on King Fahad Mosque’s roof, 60 feet above the street, nearly level with the palm trees, singing into a handheld microphone.

For over 1,000 years, Muslims have relied on the human voice to call the faithful to prayer. It’s become tradition that wherever a mosque is built, there is a place for the muezzin, or prayer caller, said Aslam Abdullah, a Muslim scholar based in San Bernardino.

While the adhan echoes five times a day in Islamic countries, like a Roman Catholic church bell signaling Mass, it is unusual to hear the adhan publicly broadcast in the U.S., where it is more likely to be heard in Hollywood movies.

People stop in their tracks to watch Mahmood Nadvi deliver the Islamic call to prayer from the roof of King Fahad Mosque in Culver City. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)

Which is what made the scene in a Culver City neighborhood, near a gun shop and a church with a sign reading “Jesus Saves,” unusual. Even historic. Like the life-altering pandemic that inspired it from here to Minnesota to New Jersey during Ramadan, the holiest month in the Islamic calendar.

In extraordinary times, when Muslims are unable to break the fast and pray together because COVID-19 has forced mosques to close — as it has some churches and other places of worship — the adhan has brought comfort. Cities across Southern California, including Redlands, Fontana, Rancho Cucamonga and Claremont, have allowed mosques to broadcast the call to prayer publicly.

Outside the Culver City mosque, some pedestrians stopped in their tracks when they first heard the adhan, seemingly surprised. This was something new, and it was not altogether clear how it would be received — as with many things Muslim in the U.S.

Mahmood Nadvi uses a handheld microphone to share the adhan, the Islamic call to prayer, at King Fahad Mosque in Culver City.(Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)

“It is indeed historical,” said Abdullah, who in the last week has heard the call to prayer broadcast in Redlands and Fontana. “It’s more than tolerance, it is our acceptance, I think. That’s a remarkable thing that this country has shown once again.”

But in Culver City, the call to prayer did not go unchallenged for long.

After four days, on May 18, the city’s police department revoked the amplified noise permit, citing people congregating at the mosque in violation of the county health order, as well as “numerous loud noise complaints from area residents.”

“We have had and will continue to have a great relationship with mosque leadership,” said Capt. Jason Sims with the Culver City Police Department. “We are certainly happy to help with facilitating any type of service that is not in violation of county health orders.”

Three days later, the city changed course again, reinstating the permit on the condition that the mosque lower the volume.

Meanwhile, on the Nextdoor social networking app, debates raged between neighbors.

“I’m glad I don’t live near there,” someone commented, spawning a string of responses.

“There are a lot of bitter racists in CC,” someone replied.

“What has a Muslim ever done to you?” one user said.

“Make me unhappy,” another responded.

Another commenter added: “You should ask people from Europe what they think about the muslims? I don’t think you get many people cheering them on.”

Two women in hijabs and masks gaze up as the adhan, or Islamic call to prayer, floats down from the roof of King Fahad Mosque in Culver City.(Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)

Across the U.S., the closure of churches has prompted pushback, with some filing lawsuits and a few defying stay-at-home orders.

The U.S. Justice Department warned in a letter Tuesday that the measures Gov. Gavin Newsom enacted to slow the spread of the coronavirus and his plans to unwind them might discriminate against religious groups and violate their constitutional rights.

More than 1,200 pastors have vowed to hold in-person services on May 31, Pentecost Sunday. On Friday, Trump declared houses of worship “essential” and called on governors to allow their reopening.

In the U.S., the question of whether to broadcast the adhan publicly has been controversial over the years. When the City Council in Hamtramck, Mich., approved the local mosque’s request to amplify the call to prayer in 2004, it sparked anger in the town.

“With so much going on in the world with terrorism, people are afraid maybe they’ll be saying things [in Arabic] that we don’t understand,” a bakery manager said at the time.

Despite the initial controversy, the adhan continues being broadcast there today.

Many mosques across Southern California got permission from local authorities to broadcast the adhan, or call to prayer, which is unusual to hear publicly broadcast in the U.S. Above, a small group gathers outside King Fahad Mosque in Culver City. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)

In 2015, Duke University called off its plan to sound the prayer call from the chapel’s 210-foot bell tower for the first time, in the face of anti-Islamic tirades on social media and concerns about security.

So this year, when mosques received permits to share the adhan through Ramadan, starting in Minnesota, some worried about what could happen.

“I’m very excited but ... deep inside I also have some concerns. Not because it’s not the right thing to do,” said Hussam Ayloush, executive director of the Los Angeles chapter of the Council on American-Islamic Relations. “But because we also still have people in our country who harbor prejudice towards Muslims or people who are not part of the majority.”

Last week, in Fontana, Ar-Rahman Islamic Center began broadcasting the adhan four times a day — omitting the earliest one around 4:30 a.m.

The only issue the center had, director Juma Darwish said, is that the prayer caller was too loud and actually broke the speaker outside — which the center is working to fix. The mosque has no end date on the broadcast.

“We’re just going to keep doing it until we feel any neighbor has discomfort with it,” Darwish said. “We’re not going to do it if a neighbor complains about it.”

Rauf Patel, director of King Fahad Mosque, and his wife, Anisa, were excited when they heard that the adhan was being publicly broadcast in Minnesota. Anisa convinced her husband to request a permit to do the same in Culver City.

In his letter to the city, Patel said broadcasting the adhan “would be a beacon of light in this trying time.” The mosque has been closed since March.

“During these difficult and unusual times of COVID-19, staying away from the mosque during our holy month has been challenging,” Patel wrote. “Being able to call to prayer out loud ... would not only lift all of our spirits, but also bring back [a] sense of our unity in our community and get us through our last few days of Ramadan.”

Soon after, the Police Department issued the permit. It would last until May 22, the day before the start of Eid al-Fitr, a celebration known as feast of the fast-breaking.

On the first day, May 14, Ahson Syed, the mosque’s religious director, stepped on overturned milk crates and up three steps that allowed him to peer over the roof at the people gathered below.

In Saudi Arabia, Syed was accustomed to hearing the call to prayer five times a day. In the U.S., he typically heard it only inside of mosques or community centers —- certainly not from the rooftops, broadcast across neighborhoods.

That evening, he was the first one to recite the adhan publicly, his voice ringing with emotion over the black loudspeaker. Half of the attendees that night were crying.

On the third night, Suzan Alrayes stood below with her 3- and 5-year-old sons, her husband and her parents. It had been a hard Ramadan, one in which she struggled to explain to her children the lurking, viral danger that prevented them from coming to the mosque.

That Saturday evening, there were plastic containers of dates and water bottles for attendees to take for the breaking of the fast.

The first time Alrayes heard the adhan from the roof of the mosque, she said, “it just gave me goose bumps.”

“I can’t even describe the feeling,” she said. “We’re not used to having the adhan in public in the United States.”

She just hoped, she said, that it wouldn’t disturb the non-Muslim community in any way.

“That would be my only concern,” Alrayes said.

Neighbors living around the mosque were surprised to hear the permit had been revoked, albeit briefly. Many of them said they couldn’t hear it, even though they live nearby.

The mosque, one resident, Liliana Cruz said, is “very much a part of the neighborhood.” She wondered about who would call to complain about the noise, calling them “jerks.”

“I don’t know who those people are,” Cruz said. “I don’t even want to know them.”

Another neighbor, who only gave his name as Eddie, said he wished neighbors had been given a heads-up about the call to prayer. He has stereo equipment, but said he could still hear the adhan from his home, which stands in view of the blue and white minaret.

“If you don’t have anything to avoid it, it can be a form of distress,” he said.

Debra Sugarman, who has lived in the city for 10 years, said she’s spent a lot of time in the Middle East and enjoys hearing the call to prayer. Sugarman, who lives a few blocks from the mosque, said she strained to hear the adhan the first few nights. She wished, she said, that it had been louder.

“It’s Ramadan,” Sugarman said. “They should be allowed to practice their religion.”

#Islam #Sharia #Muslim #Jihad #Mosque #Immigration #Invasion #News #Politics #Video #Religion #Travel #Media

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unchartedterritoria · 5 years

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Dangerous (Sam Drake x OC) - Chapter 26

*NEW CHAPTER*

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 * Chapter 5* Chapter 6 * Chapter 7 * Chapter 8 * Chapter 9 * Chapter 10 * Chapter 11 * Chapter 12 * Chapter 13 * Chapter 14 * Chapter 15 * Chapter 16 * Chapter 17 * Chapter 18 * Chapter 19 * Chapter 20 * Chapter 21 * Chapter 22 * Chapter 23 * Chapter 24 * Chapter 25

As always, you can read the story thus far on A03 HERE

Tags: @jodiereedus22, @shambhalala, @missdictatorme

Reviews and comments are always appreciated!

Summary: Sam and Faith finally get a bead on the location of the Lincoln treasure. Sam finds out Jasper is hot on their heels and finds out in the worst way he ever wanted to.

Faith grabbed Sam by the hand and led him down the populated corridor. The sun was at its apex of the afternoon, sending tourists off the beach and into the gallery for some respite from the overwhelming heat.

The excitement Faith felt radiated off of her and Sam felt as if he was grasping a live wire. The neon colors that had awoken within her when they had first swiped that diary in Springfield had emerged and taken hold of her again. Sam saw suspicious glances in their direction, more of them being garnered by the second as she half ran, dragging him behind her like a bored dad at Disneyland. Seeing this, he pulled her back by his side to slow their pace.

“Slow it down, you got half the place staring at you,” Sam murmured in her ear. Draping an arm across her shoulders, he kept the two of them at a steady pace as the curious faces gradually turned away from them.

The portrait of a solemn, middle-aged Dr. Samuel Mudd hung square on the wall; the man's narrow chin hid behind a scraggly beard, a vast contrast to the baldness of his head.

A printed picture hung next to it, a large hexagon building of dark red brick floating in a vast expanse of bright blue ocean.

Written over the photo display was a story that Faith now knew by heart. The plot to assassinate the head members of the Lincoln government, the failure of Atzerodt and Paine to murder Johnson and Seward. The trial that indited Mudd as a conspirator for setting the broken leg of John Wilkes Boothe.

A black and white photograph of a cement doorway stood out atop the colorful contrast of the print beneath it. A heavy door with a heavy lock stood open in the shot while a small plaque hung above its entryway. The carved words wobbled, but the sign was still legible:

Whoso Entereth Here Leaveth All Hopes Behind

“Mudd's cell,” Faith said in a small voice.

Sam's eyes scanned over the small paragraph underneath.

"It was an inactive fort, so they used it as a military prison. He helped treat prisoners and soldiers while he was here when yellow fever broke out in 1867, that's how the asshole got his goddamn pardon," His voice dropped to a growl. Frustration pulled at his eyebrows, making his eyes seem to go dark.

“Even inactive, it's massive. If it's here in Key West, how the hell did we miss it?”

“That's because it's not in Key West,” Faith told him while she read the fine print at the bottom of the glossy picture, “It's 75 miles west of here in the middle of the Gulf.”

Her heart was racing as fast as the thoughts in her head. This had to be it. She could feel it, and Sam could feel it too.

Sam's mouth began to travel a mile a minute, spewing forth plans, how to get there, how to find his millions and how to spend it.

Faith stared at the portrait of the famed Dr. Mudd.

Sam's words lost meaning for her as she stared into the dark eyes of the painting, reduced to a dull murmur in her ears. The sound disappeared entirely, as heady anger began to form in its void. A swirling eddy of dark thoughts built up a fury within her that she hadn't felt since she was a teenager, the eyes of the portrait fueled the needless fire.

You son of a bitch. Look at everything you've caused.

"Faith." Sam tapped her on the shoulder, causing her to shift her glare towards him instead of the portrait.

“Whoa, hey. What?” He questioned, pulling his hand back quickly.

“Look at everything his caused,” Faith muttered, resuming her stare at the picture of Mudd.

“All he did was fix the guys leg.”

“And that leg belonged to the guy that killed Lincoln.”

“Not his fault, he didn't pull the trigger,” Sam retorted.

“Guilty by association Samuel.”

“Just because history made him out to be a Bad Guy doesn't mean he was a bad guy.”

“You don't know that.”

Sam brought his face close to hers, his tobacco laced breath wafting up Faith's nose.

“Guess what? Neither do you,”

Faith bit the inside of her cheeks, unable to come up with a response. She could only lower her eyes in silence.

“Alright, now, let's go get this thing,” Sam declared and began to stalk down the hall, a sense of purpose in his step, towards the front doors as Faith tried to keep up with his long strides next to him. “It's a fort in the middle of the goddamn ocean so, lucky for us, there can only be so many places to hide it. We'll hit the bar, Ronni should be workin' this afternoon, she's gotta know a guy we can charter a boat from.”

"You think I'll find my answers somewhere in there?" Faith asked. As the days had turned into weeks, her original search for answers about her family had warped into this larger than life treasure hunt. She had allowed herself to get swept up into Sam Drake's world and into Sam himself. What started with dipping a tentative toe in the water turned into a swan dive into a dangerous blue abyss where the warm water churned with excitement and showed no signs of slowing down.

“They're there, and if for some reason they're not, we keep goin' til we get them,” He assured her.

"What if the treasure is there, but my answers aren't?" She asked, giving the sleeve of his t-shirt a gentle tug, bringing him to a stop.

Faith's answers had always been secondary for Sam on this adventure. Finding that treasure was his primary goal from the moment that Nathan had uttered, 'worth a shitload' and he made no qualms about it either. He wanted to be rich; he wanted a find that was all his own. Finding Libertalia was fantastic for Sam, and as much as he enjoyed sharing the adventure and the discovery with his brother, there was that selfish part of him that kept him wanting more just for himself. In his mind, Faith was just this person he was in charge of. Keep her safe and get her home. Sam hadn't counted on the llama loving, personal demons dealing, Depeche Mode dancing Faith Spencer that had emerged from that dark blue dress two months ago and boldly stole his shirt, taking a piece of his heart and a sliver of his soul with her in the process.

So the question gave Sam pause for only a moment.

“Like I said, we keep going until we get them. It'll just be easier with me being a millionaire,” Sam the corner of his mouth raised into a cocky grin.

“We keep going? We?" Faith's heart fluttered in her chest. She had resigned herself to the fact that this crazy chapter, hell it was more like an insane novel, in her life was coming to a close. The Book of Sam Drake would end with a goodbye, and she had steeled herself for it. The possibility of an epilogue to their story hadn't been a hope for her, until now.

“Yeah,” He said softly to Faith, gently taking the tip of her chin between his rough fingers and tilting her head up until her eyes met his.

“We.”

It was a simple word. Short and to the point. Faith found its meaning in Sam's warm hazel eyes where the two letters spoke volumes.

He released her chin and stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his pants.

“I mean, that is, if you can put up with me that long. I've been told once or twice that I can be a real pain in the ass sometimes,” He said with a sigh, his playful charm back front and center, stowing away his emotional side.

“Sounds like a conservative estimate,” Faith rebutted bluntly. Sam scoffed and continued towards the entrance. After a single stride, Faith grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Wait! Hold up!”

"What?" Sam said, trying not to sound too impatient.

“I never saw Robert. Gimme two seconds!” Faith said, already jogging back down the concrete corridor before Sam could protest. He eyed the front doors of the gallery a few feet away and wrapped his fingers around the pack of cigarettes in his pocket.

Might as well have one while I wait, Sam thought and strode casually out through the entrance, positioning himself near the freestanding post ashtray next to the building.

Faith entered the WEIRDLY KEY WEST section of the museum again. This time, the tourist hustle and bustle had thinned out, leaving the exhibit all to herself. She headed towards the small room that held the doll, making sure to avert her eyes from the portrait of Mudd on the wall. For the next few minutes, she just wanted to revel in the quirkiness of something cool.

Faith opened the glass doors to find herself in a small room. The walls told the story of Robert, his origins and his mischiefs in the town, along with a warning: 'Beware! Ask permission of Robert to take his picture. If you don't do this, you do it at your own risk!' Faith smiled and looked towards the right where a giant blackboard stood. A layer of chalk dust coat it, little fingerprints letting the black base show through. A nub of chalk dangled from a string and magnetic metal clips dotted the boards surface, some with small pieces of paper attached. Above it all hung a sign, asking you to 'Leave a Message for Robert!' Faith smiled. Bubbly anticipation welled inside her as she began to formulate already what she wanted to write.

She finally approached the square exhibit case made of glass in the center of the room. Robert the Doll stood on a riser, bringing him to eye level. Faith had seen the Chucky movies, Annabelle and all of their horrid sequels. All of those films had been based on the doll in front of her. She had steeled herself, expecting something sinister looking and found herself to be very wrong.

Robert looked like any other doll in a museum that was made at the turn of the century. He was the size of a small child, dressed in a sailors outfit, complete with cap, and sitting up in a small wooden chair. A fabric casing simply stuffed with straw, his face was basic, and its features merely indented to define them. Small divets dotted the matte brown skin of his face where time had worn it away, giving him the likeness of a child with pockmarks. In the crook of his arm, he held a small stuffed dog with tightly curled tan fur.

Not in the least what Faith had pictured.

“Wow, anticlimactic,” She muttered to herself, studying the quality stitching that held the doll together. “No offense meant, just not at all what I pictured,” Faith apologized, taking a step back and blew out a nervous breath. “I know granting your wishes isn't your area but, if you have any influence, could you please help me find the answers about my family and why we have that Bible? I would really appreciate it.”

“I really like your little doggy by the way,” She added with a lopsided grin.

A large hand suddenly wrapped around her mouth and nose. Sam had done this to her before, which took away the startling feeling she felt the previous times. She began to roll her eyes and froze. The lingering smell of nicotine or the tangy scent of his aftershave wasn't there. Instead, the smell was sweetly astringent, bringing to mind a fruity tequila. It was also coming from a rough cloth pressed between the strange hand and her face.

Faith clawed frantically at the hand, pulling hard, trying to scream as loud as she could. She stomped her feet blindly to make more noise and with the desperate hope of landing a foot of the man behind her but his strong upper body kept her forward. Her brain pleaded and prayed for Sam to hear the commotion. Her eyes searched for something to grab on to when a heavy mist settled in her head. Faith's thoughts became muddled as her limbs grew lead heavy. The noise from her decreasing struggle began to sound hollow. As her brain slowed and her sight darken, Faith saw a translucent reflection of the hand wrapped tight around her middle in Robert's glass case.

The hand was deformed.

Sam checked the time on his phone. Fifteen minutes and two smokes had passed since Faith went to visit her funky doll. He contorted his face in annoyance.

"C'mon honey, it's a doll, we got a lot better things to go look at," He muttered openly to no one. He looked around the lobby of the building which had become eerily quiet as the tourists emptied back out onto the beach. He glanced absentmindedly through the doorway into the grassy courtyard. A meter long iguana dashed across the lawn, fast enough for Sam to register a whizzing by of green hues. Something didn't feel right.

She should be back out here by now, he thought, as goosebumps rippled across the back of his neck. Sam stalked quickly down the hallway, his expression darkened and his heart sped with every tourist he noticed was gone, the hall empty. Seeing the WEIRD KEY WEST sign, he broke into a sprint, calling out Faith's name. Sam strode purposefully through the exhibit.

“Faith?” He called loudly, making a beeline for the tinted window room where the doll was.

“Faith!” Sam shouted as he flung open the glass doors.

Save for the doll in his glass case and the decor on the walls; the room was empty. Sam's eyes scanned the room wildly. The writing on the chalkboard made him stop breathing, stop hearing, stop functioning except to read the words in front of him. Written in chalk, in flowing, perfect script.

I've taken your queen. Your move Mr. Drake. With kindest regards, - J.

#dangerous #My writing #sam drake fanfiction #sam drake x oc #samuel drake x oc #OC X Sam Drake

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this-is-for-the-record-blog · 6 years

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Pearl Jam - Pearl Jam - Album Review

Pearl Jam is the Seattle alternative rock band’s eighth studio album released in 2006 and the first and last with Sony owned J Records. The band came into the studio with no pre written songs, but rather just ideas that were hashed out into songs once the band jammed in the studio together, similar to Vitalogy, completing ten songs in just one week. Something the band hadnt attempted or accomplished since Vs. or even Ten. The record was described by the band as very Democratic with its collaborative contribution and its fair communication with all members of the band contributing lyrics and music, the way the band has been since Yield. The record contains a formula similar to the bands older material, some may consider it a return to form and is the reason the band went with the self titled rout and while a lot of the songs have an angsty, up tempo, hard rock energy, I feel the bands sound is more inspired by classic rock influences especially looking to The Who, Thin Lizzy, Buzzcocks, Ramones, Tom Petty, AC/DC, Heart and Led Zeppelin as major influences on the record. The aggressive drive and themes were inspired by the frustration with President George W Bush and his second term in office, the current state of America, as well as The War on Terror, the mourning of friend and punk rock guitarist Johnny Ramone’s passing also served an influence on the darker songs. It sounds to me as though the band was consciously writing classic rock sounding record or it was at least the sonic direction. The longest break between releases came between the bands last record Riot Act and their self titled record here. This was attributed to singer Eddie Vedder getting married and having his first child while the band also supported the Vote for a Change tour during that break. Avocado is the closest the band has ever been to producing a conceptual record giving the listener a glimpse into the life of a working class American with financial struggles, despite having hope and faith. The mainstream medias sugar coating of pharmaceutical drugs as a solution to your problems or alcohol which is marketed as an answer to a fun time, with both of these ending in addiction. That American who cant find a job to pay the bills and provide for their family they turn to dealing. The grief stricken family of a fallen soldier, or that Army reservist manipulated and taken for granted by the government, and is stationed far from his loved ones. The record has themes dealing with feelings of political anger, addiction, religious resentment, poverty, death, anxiety, escape but ends with renewal and personal growth. You can almost see a drama unfolding throughout the album.

Alvocado was produced by Adam Kasper, producer on the bands last record Riot Act. Unlike Riot Act though instead of focusing on love as an answer the band vents all its frustrations here. Musically the record is much less of the recent experimental and calming Pearl Jam we have come to know, but much more straight forward musically and lyrically, a hard hitting formula seen on their debut and sophomore records. Singer Eddie Vedder said this about the records musical energy “It’s easily the best stuff we’ve done but also some of the hardest stuff. It’s very aggressive, because again, it’s kind of a product of what it’s like to be an American these days. It’s pretty aggressive, especially when you turn it loud.” The first half of the record contains all up tempo tunes, 5 hard rocking songs back to back, the most high energy songs in a row than any other Pearl Jam record before it, while the second half offers ballads and more mid tempo tracks. Producer Adam Kasper was able to bring the same live raw sound that was present on Riot Act again on this record here, but fills in the gaps a bit more than before. A couple of those raw, hard rocking, muscular tracks are “Life Wasted” which features an Angus Young guitar riff that bares the same energy heard on AC/DC tracks like “If You Want Blood”, “T.N.T.” and “Walk All Over You” with its off the cuff guitar solos and improvised jamming at the end. The song is played a half-step down and uses a capo on the 3rd fret (first 5 strings only, with the 6th open.) This oddly written song structure has become more frequently seen among the bands back catalog especially since Yield and really reminds me of song writing seen in bands like Led Zeppelin. Then theres the anthemic, politically ranting “World Wide Suicide” which opens with Eddie Vedder grinding an ebow into the strings and pickups on his guitar, a technique I dont think ive seen or heard before with an ebow and has a riff similar to Buzzcocks’ “No Reply”. The track has an older grungy Pearl Jam sound similar to “Satan’s Bed” while a bit of “Spin the Black Circle”, another song from the bands third record, Vitalogy, is heard on the punk rock influenced “Comatose”. The song kicks in heavy like AC/DC’s “Hell Aint A Bad Place To Be” while the hard rock energy of “Severed Hand” reminds me a bit of the beginning of The Who’s “Wont Get Fooled Again” with its guitar part at the beginning mimicking a synth, while the main riff is very similar to The Who’s “Go To The Mirror” just sped up and “Matt Cameron’s Kieth Moon sounding, chaotic drum rolls. “Marker In The Sand” the last of the first 5 up tempo songs and reminds me of “American Woman” by The Guess Who. It experiments with tempo a bit shifting time signature going into the chorus, claiming the best melody on the entire record and might be my favorite track.

The record doesnt take a breath ‘till the simple love song “Parachutes”, an acoustic, psychedelic ballad that reminds me of The Beatles “Hey Jude” with the cadence of the guitar being played like a piano, but the break doesnt last long as things pick right back up again with “Unemployable” a song that reminds me of The Who’s “Another Tricky Day” and “Big Wave” the only care free track on the record reminds me of Soundgarden’s “Never Named”. The album periodically breaks the high energy again with “Gone”, slowing down at the end starting with “Come Back”, a charming, soulful ballad that leans heavy on organ, bass, hi-hat, snare and kick drum. The song musically and conceptually follows “Last Kiss” harkens back to Motown 50s era ballads paying homage to Otis Redding’s “Come To Me” and Eric Clapton’s “Bell Bottom Blues”. Some of the songs like the album closer “Inside Job”, a slowly building, climactic track that starts off like The Who’s “The Song Is Over” meets R.E.M.’s “Boy In The Well”, but builds into a progression and a lead guitar part similar to Tom Petty’s Organ soaked “The Waiting”. Songs like this one explore more varied tempos and have an artistic and darker cathartic rock sound to them. The song features Mike McCready on a double neck SG guitar, playing the electrical 12 string in the beginning. Eddie Vedder said this about the up tempo music and how it relates to the darker lyrical themes, “the hope was going to be in the guitar solos. It was the guitars and drums going at it that was going to lift you out of the dark abyss that I had painted.” Needless to say guitarists Mike McCready and Stone Gossard channel guitarists Angus Young, Jimmy Page, Dan Thunder Bolton, Eric Clapton, Johnny Ramone, Kieth Richards, Scott Gorham, Peter Frampton, Mike Campbell, Steve Diggle and Billy Zoom and Eddie Vedder seems to be channeling Pete Shelley, Michael Stipe, Bob Dylan, Phil Ochs, Tom Petty, Bruce Springsteen, and Pete Townshend on the record. The drums, guitar leads and vocals really shimmer and take a lot of the spotlight on this record and Matt Cameron puts in a lot of vocal work as a back up singer as well, while organist Boom Gasper takes lead spotlight on “Wasted Reprise,” a sort of intermission that brings back the chorus heard in “Life Wasted” and leads nicely into the next track “Army Reserve”.

In the song writing department, the band took their time in a process that was very tedious with the songs having many different sets of lyrics. Eddie Vedder described it as a process that demands “the patience of like a National Geographic photographer sitting underneath the bush in a tent”, adding that he would at times “figure out after eight, nine or eleven drafts that the first one was actually the one”. Where Riot Act was Pearl Jam’s most politically driven record this record takes that to the next level in a more upfront way and is the bands most socio-political to this day and takes the approach of writing from the perspective of someone else something present on Pearl Jam’s earlier records. The songs “World Wide Suicide”, and “Army Reserve” a mid-tempo rocker co-written by Damien Echols (one of the West Memphis Three), are about the Iraq War and express opposition against the war and president Bush’s agenda in Iraq, questioning his motives. It also provides a bit of hard truth behind war from the perspective of the family of a fallen soldier as well as the average American who reads the news paper, making the song relatable to many. “It’s understandable why someone would like their entertainment to provide an escape from modern day worries and the reality of war. We feel this record creates a healthy opportunity to process some of these emotions rather than deny them. It’s like we took our aggression’s and shaped something positive from them in a very direct manner” Vedder also stated the record “deals with real content and the moral issues of our time”. Other politically driven songs like “Marker In The Sand” deal with the hypocrisy behind religion and how it seems to be at the center of Bush’s agenda and how its always at the center of every war, while “Unemployable” a Springsteen type song that reflects on issues of poverty during the economic decline of the Great Recession and “Comatose” points out the threat on civil liberties backed by religion specifically in regards to same sex marriage. Guitarist McCready said, “We all feel that we’re living in tumultuous, frightening times, and that ranges from the Iraq war to Hurricane Katrina to wiretapping to anything that smacks of totalitarianism. And just bad political decisions being made. We feel that as Americans, and we’re frustrated. So a lot of those feelings have come out in these songs.”

The song “Come Back“ is easily the most heart wrenching ballad the band has produced since “Black” and has similar themes of heart break after someone you loved has past away or moved on, much like “Last Kiss”. The track has been said to have been inspired by the death of famed punk rock guitarist and Vedders close friend Johnny Ramone. Another song like “Severed Hand” is about dealing, addiction and substance abuse with “Life Wasted” being viewed as having been on the verge of overdosing or witnessing a friend overdose or just a simple brush with death. Eddie Vedder has stated the song was written after attending Johnny Ramones funeral and reflecting on mortality and the outcome of substance abuse. Eddie stated, “When you leave that funeral, that drive is as important as any single stretch of road you’ll travel on. You’ve got a renewed appreciation for life. And I think that feeling can last through the day, through the week, but then things start getting back to normal and you start taking this living and breathing and eating thing for granted. I think that song is there to remind you, ‘This is that feeling’.” The existential track “Big Wave” is a fun song of oceanic celebration, where Vedder expresses being of crustacean origin, evolving and adapting into a human but still having connections with his aquatic roots through his love for surfing, constantly seeking that next big wave. Songs of self reflection, soul searching and renewal are expressed on songs like “Inside Job” a song written entirely by Mike McCready, his lyrical debut about recovery, sobriety and loving yourself so you can share that love with others. Vedder said one way to deal with negative energy and frustration is “to kind of look within. If nothing else, effect some change in yourself. If you’re in a position of feeling pretty together at that point, then you feel like you can make a contribution to society, as opposed to being a fucking wreck and just adding to the pile of destructive forces you can find yourself surrounded by. And that’s exactly, verbatim, what’s in the song, really. Like ‘shining a human light.” and the song “Gone” is a song of liberaion that goes back to the idea expressed on the bands song “Rearviewmirror” where the character in the song is getting in a vehicle and heading out of town, leaving his/her anxiety and materials behind in search of peace, autonomy and freedom. Vedder has said “Gone” is about someone “needing to find a new life without his past, without his possessions, and not really looking for more possessions.” Early shades of what was to come on Eddie Vedders “Into The Wild” record. The line “nothing is everything” was taken from the song “Let’s See Action” from the 1972 Pete Townshend solo album, Who Came First. Vedder thanks Townshend in the liner notes for the album.

The cover art of the record depicts an avocado cut in half with the seed still in place. McCready said, “That symbolizes just kind of … Ed’s at the end of the process and said, for all I care right now, we’ve done such a good job on this record, and we’re kind of tired from it. Let’s throw an avocado on the cover. I think that’s what happened, and our art director goes, hey, that’s not a bad idea.” Because the album is self-titled, many fans refer to it as “Avocado” or “The Avocado Album.” I feel the record’s minimalistic cover art is an artistic symbol and straightforward display of this unique fruit that is organic and natural, which is exactly what the music on the record and what the band has always been, so the records self title and artwork makes sense and is fitting. Vedder explained, “In the end, we thought there was enough there with the title of the songs, so to put another title on the album would have seemed pretentious. So, really, it’s actually Nothing by Pearl Jam.” The liner notes contain artistic images of wax sculptures, in an almost “Body Worlds” style recreation of each band member with their flesh either decaying or lit on fire and other times have insects crawling out of them. The art was brought to video in the music video for “Life Wasted”, the band’s firorst conceptual video since 1998′s “Do The Evolution”. The music video represents the fragility of life, a theme that is expressed in the song as well.

Pearl Jam’s self titled record is a great record, its my first record purchased through the Ten Club as an official member, this was the record I was listening to in high school while everyone was listening to modern emo and pop punk music. No one understood it or heard of it and thats what I liked most about it cause I never understood the appeal or the popularity behind the shallow music at the time, but I dont think it met the production or passionate song writing that was offered on Riot Act or even Binaural and I think it is the first record that showed the bands age a bit especially with Eddies vocals sounding a bit strained now going into a higher register on the fast songs but I think It gets credit for being as hard hitting, aggressive, scientific, and objective as their earlier records and most politically driven and socially critic to this day, making it arguably the most important and meaningful record in the bands discography. It has been been stated that atleast 12 songs were left off of the record. Not much is known of the songs. This would also make Avocado the most fruitful songwriting from the band since Ten! Some of the known songs are “The Forest” a song released on Jeff Ament’s solo record “Tone”, “10 Billion Years” was a song that ended up on Stone Gossard’s second LP and the track “Of The Earth“ is speculated to be B-side from their self titled record and has made some rare live appearances in 2010. The beautiful “Man Of The Hour”, one of my favorite songs was one that was recorded for the film Big Fish but wasnt included on the self titled record here. The song seems to conceptually connect with “Come Back” from the record, paying tribute to an idle or father figure after they have passed with them giving their final bow but stating that its only goodbye for now. The band had also recorded covers of “Someday at Christmas”, “Love Reign Oer Me” and “Daytime Dilemma” around this time. My favorite tracks are “Life Wasted”, “Word Wide Suicide”, “Marker In The Sand”, “Come Back”, “Army Reserve” and “Inside Job” If you like Burden Brothers, X, Foo Fighters, Wellwater Conspiracy, The Rockfords, Mother Love Bone, Skin Yard, AC/DC, Ben Harper, Temple of the Dog, R.E.M., Peter Frampton, Soundgarden, Bob Dylan, U2, Led Zeppelin, Hater, Tom Petty, Eric Clapton, The Beatles, Green River, Brad, Pete Yorn, Mad Season, Neil Young, Supersuckers, Heart, Three Fish, Steve Turner, The Verve Pipe, Ramones, Buzzcocks, The Rolling Stones, Bruce Springsteen, Sonic Youth or The Who you will love this record.

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autolenaphilia · 7 years

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I, Robot The Shame of Mystery Science Theater 3000 by Chris Fujiwara

(This article has disappeared from the Internet, though you can find it archived on the Wayback Machine here I find it quite interesting and it articulates some of the concerns I have with MST3K and “bad movie culture” in general, so I’m reposting it here. The article is written by Chris Fujiwara and belongs to him. If he wants me to take it down, I will.)

One sign of the death of the cinema is the zombie-like persistence of the "bad film" cult that rose to public-nuisance status in the late Seventies, feasting noisily on things like the Ed Wood films. From the start, this was just an especially obnoxious manifestation of a general intolerance for films that try to free themselves from the dominant mode of cinematic realism. Thus it's but a short step from sneering at the budgetary deficiencies of Plan 9 from Outer Space to scoffing at, e.g.:

1. Any non-state-of-the-art special effects and visions of the future, even though these things date themselves anyway from period to period, and future generations may find Independence Day less "realistic" (whatever that will mean) than the 1956 aliens-smash-the-state programmer of which it is an unacknowledged remake, Earth vs. the Flying Saucers;

2. Overtly non-realistic visual and acting style used for expressive purposes, as in Soviet master S. M. Eisenstein's outrageous Ivan the Terrible, which uses actors' bodies as components of a delirious architecture;

3. "Implausible" plots like Vertigoas if we're supposed to ignore the holes in the stories Hollywood tells now just because men don't wear ties to walk around the block and no shot lasts longer than 1.4 secondsand "banal" ones like the potboiler-like thriller stories from which Orson Welles made his superb Lady from Shanghai, and Touch of Evilas if Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripedes working together could have come up with an original story or cared less about it;

4. Mythic dialogue and situations like those in Rebel Without a Cause and Douglas Sirk's Written on the Wind, The Tarnished Angels, and Imitation of Life, whose emotional power intimidates audiences lulled by the rituals of appeasement enacted in nighttime soap operas.

The irrelevant yocks that frequently greet the films just mentioned when they show at a revival house or a college auditorium are the voice of a viewing public paralyzed by fear, desperate for any externalization of a comforting "distance" to protect them from recognizing their own anxieties writ large in the image unspooling from the past not dead enough to suit them.

Such a distance is abundantly provided by the robots on the cable (now also broadcast-syndicated) show Mystery Science Theater 3000, devoted to stomping on "the worst movies ever made." The big gimmick (the "plot" behind which isn't worth explaining) is that these robots are sitting in a mockup of a theater and we the lucky TV audience are watching the films from over their shoulders and ostensibly being entertained by their scornful running commentary. The numbing, irritating effect thus achieved is not unlike watching a Josef vos Sternberg film in the eighth row of the Brattle Theater in Harvard Square the week after midterms. What is most amazing about MST3K (the acronyum preferred by the show's adherents) is that the robots can blather on for an hour without saying anything witty or interestingand people can't get enough of them! (As of this writing, MST3K, which has been in hiatus, is due to be "revived" in new episodes [it wased]; meanwhile, the repeats are still shown contantly on Comedy Central.)

(A similar dead-end sensation can be found by watching what is supposed to pass for heady, unsettling stuff in recent cinema. I refer to the ubiquitous superficial irony that has become the stock-in-trade of Robert Altman, the Coen Brothers, and many less skillful directors, the maddening profusion of brain-eating detail in one of Terry Gilliam's nasty conceits, and the pompous theatricalized events of Peter Greenaway.)

I'd like one of the misties (in-group code for the shows devotees) to explain to me (a letter in care of the editor of this magazine will do, thanks) why if these mechanical creeps are such Oscar Wildes don't they take on something just a bit juicier, a tad more worthy of their withering satire than The Beasts of Yucca Flats. What about, say, Fellini's La Dolce Vita? There's a film that has everything the robots love to disdain: pretentious dialogue, long dull stretches, and people with funny clothes and big asses. Obviously, the contempt for cinema, history, and the audience that fuels the whole robot insanity can be applied to low-budget horror and exploitation filmmaking.

MST3K isn't really about "bad movies" anyway. This is proved by the choice of 1955's This Island Earth as the film basted in Mystery Science Theater 3000: The Movie, the recent theatrical spinoff from the show. In a kinder, gentler era of genre film appreciation (whose tone was set by Forrest J. Ackerman, the benevolent editor of Famous Monsters of Filmland), This Island Earth was regarded as a classic. Whatever you think about the film, to rank it one of "the worst movies ever made" is clearly absurd. Of the 30,000 features released in the United States from 1915 to 1960, This Island Earth is probably in the top 3,000-4,000. Considering that countless films have been made since (most of them bad in ways that could scarcely have been imagined in 1955), I would guess that This Island Earth is sitting comfortably in the top five percent of all films. (That's right, I'm saying that 19 out of every 20 films are worse than This Island Earth. Prove me wrong.) Why pick on This Island Earth? To raise the intellectual stakes a little ? Probably notit's doubtful that many members of the intended audience of MST3K:TM had ever heard of This Island Earth or could distinguish it from Rocky Jones, Space Ranger. Anyway, the level of humor in MST3K:TM is preposterously low: roughly a third of the robots' remarks are alarmed, sniggering references to homosexuality, putdowns of the hero's sidekick's virility, and other manifestations of male adolescent sex-role anxiety. (Another third are mostly farting and toilet jokes, which possibly belong to the same category.) In its treatment of Faith Domergue's sexy scientist, This Island Earth may betray what we now recognize as the sexism of the Fifties, but what are we to make of the fact that the woman aboard the MST3K spacceship is a maternal vacuum cleaner with no arms? MST3K is obsessed with sexuality and afraid of it. The absence of women highlights the show's treehouse psychology.

MST3K's use of robots for heroes is no accident. MST3K's sarcasm at the expense of the past is techno-elitism at its most self-congratulatory, asserting mastery through acts of cultural misrecognition. Perhaps the reason the MST3K people despise so much that they choose to mount an attack on it in the nation's theaters is that they're disturbed by the way the film reduces the unimaginable future of interplanetary communication to the level of an erector set. MST3K's creators, who resemble science nerds using their first grant as an excuse to lord it over their former peers, would probably be thrilled to be drafted for a totalitarian planet's nuclear program (the fate of the protagonists of This Island Earth).

The robots on the bottom of the MST3K screen are scotomas that indicate a more fundamental visual disturbance, the inability to see anything in films except the same things over and over again: hot women, men who match masculine stereotypes either too well or not enough, and supposed defects of representation (too slow, too cheap-looking, not realistic enough, etc.).

Then there's The Mystery Science Theater 3000 Amazing Colossal Episode Guide. Just as MST3K represents a depressing low in "golden turkey" television, TMST3KACEG marks a stupefying new milestone in "golden turkey" film books by having no information about any film, apart from short, inaccurate plot summaries. Instead, the book recounts supposed highlights of the robots' parasitic interventions and explains how the robots behind the robots "strived to make [the films] funny." Readers are thus treated to 172 large-format, haute-design pages filled with pointless descriptions of robot skits and unreadable writing-room anecdotes ("I recall this episode as being the first time we decided to write sketches having nothing to do with the movie..." from the section on Monster a-Go-Go). Nauseatingly self-important, TMST3KACEG leaves wide open the door I wish had remained shut; I expect to see a new wave of film books that focus on the writers' bus rides home.

The book exposes the cluelessness behind the smug sensibility evident on the show. MST3K writer Kevin Murphy proclaims reverence for Frank Zappa (and in real goo-talk yet: "When all his tapes are played and his music is studied, I'm guessing he'll go down as one of the finest composers and performers of the century," p. 109) but makes fun of an angry viewer for wanting to hear Eddie Cochran in Untamed Youth without robots talking (p.16). It makes sense that someone who thinks it's cool to put robots in front of The Killer Shrews would have no problem revealing in print that he thinks the composer of "Don't Eat Yellow Snow" and "St. Alphonzo's Pancake Breakfast" is a greater artist than the man who recorded "Something Else" and "Nervous Breakdown."

There's nothing new about MST3Kit's just a tasteless crossbreeding of the tradition of the TV horror host (Zacherle, Ghoulardi, the Ghoul, Elvira) and the "Golden Turkey" way of misreading films that was codified by inane right-wing reviewer Michael Medved and his equally vapid brother, Harry. All this comes indirectly from the surrealists, but the MST3K robots, following their idols the Medveds rather than Andr Breton and Ado Kyrou, deny and trivialize the power of strange films to disturb, confuse, and give hope.

It's time the "bad movies" movement died a quiet death. This goes not just for MST3K-style vendettas against low-budget films but also for the would-be more sophisticated "camp" onslaught against glossy major productions like "Valley of the Dolls" and the Delmer Daves-Troy Donahue cycle (A Summer Place, Susan Slade, etc.). Of the many possible ways of enjoying a film that deviates from standard criteria of adequacy, the least interesting is to treat it as a source of unintentional humor. Robot Monster, The Sinister Urge, The Brain That Wouldn't Die, Hercules and the Captive Women, It Conquered the World, Attack of the Giant Leeches, Aleksandr Ptushko's fantasy films"bad" as some of these films may be (although many of them are, in fact, "good"), all of them will be admired long after their potential for robot humor has been exhausted (i.e., starting right now) for the unique aesthetic experiences , strange personal visions, and precious cultural documentation they offer.

Someone should invent MST3K glasses with the robots printed on the bottoms of the lenses for people to wear to movies, except that it would be unnecessary, since the robots are already built into the cognitive and aesthetic faculties of an entire culture. MST3K assumes its audienes are so impotent that they can't enjoy even "bad" films first hand but can derive pleasure from them only over the shoulders of robots.

#chris fujiwara #mst3k

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