Tuesday, January 03, 2006

The reason you never let the people you work with know what the address of your Blog is, is that suddenly they have your thoughts, this assumes that you are ever really honest on your Blog. The whole idea of publishing on the Internet is you are anonymous, if you say something that nobody likes all you are is a username. They can get mad at the username, but they can't really get mad at you. It doesn't affect you is what I'm saying. You can assume a personality and write as that personality, you can yell and scream let all out with no consequences. It's our chance to be Spiderman. The Blog is our superhero identity. You let someone into the Circle of Trust, and then you are beholden to that person. You can't say that their favorite movie (in the case of this Blog) is a piece of shit without hurting feelings, even if it is a piece of shit. Somebody knows who is behind that username and you have an editor and a censor. Your mom reads your Blog and you can't say fuck anymore.

The problem is that you can't really keep it a secret either, if someone is a part of your life. They are going to wonder what you're typing if they happen to live in the same house with you.

It may be that there are thoughts in your head that should be just between you and the WWW, things that shouldn't be known by anybody who knows you in real life. I'm still working that part out. Those of you out there who know me in real life, understand this: to your face I might say that I don't like a book you gave me to read, or a CD you gave me to listen to, but on this Blog I will say why. I will write at length about the shittiness. If I really don't like it, I will say this book is a fucking piece of shit, not to hurt you, but because the book really sucks. Saying it to your face would hurt you, writing it here I get to beat the author/singer/director/actor in effigy at least. If I like it, I like, if I don't, I don't. This Blog is not here for any reason except for me to express myself, definitely not to hurt anybody's feelings. If you can't handle me being honest well, you might want to consider not reading UB.

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You have to wonder how much of Andrew Vachss's anger is just fashionable, and how much of it is genuine. Could be this is just a guy making money and getting attention for himself from the justifiable hatred and fear the public has for pedophiles. How much of the murderous anger is just him providing an outlet for anger and looking like a bad-ass hero in the process?
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That fascination with serial killers that America (and thus the world) had a few years ago, there was another reason for it. I mean apart from sensational gruesomeness and the notion of "true evil", with all of their associated thrills. The other reason is that people are stupid and serial killers are easy.

Dumb people like their evil easy to spot. Easy to identify and easy to separate themselves from. There is nothing like a nice easy torturing sex-killer to make you feel like the world is black and white, and you are better than somebody else. The fact that you have never done anything as extreme in your entire life as serial murder, means that you are not evil. The fact that you are equally lacking in empathy, able to relate only to your cats and the stuffed animals on your bed, and the characters in "Lost", that is lost on you. It's lost on you because you are an idiot.

Good ones, not in any particular order (no links since you've already seen these):
Silence of the Lambs
Red Dragon
Se7en
Scream