All posts by Kage

The Luchagors:Review

Luchagors-

     I’m going to stay away from what I did in my last musical review, which, as you may recall linked past to present career paths, and instead look at this from a perspective of a band as if I just found them. I think going this away removes a past bias for the performer in one aspect of their life and creates a far more objective outlook at the present. Although I guess I’m wicked late to reviewing this, though.

     So this is the debut album for a band called The Luchagors. Which, according to the internets is wordplay combination, Lucha Libre and Horror flicks. Right up my alley, as I greatly enjoy both. I haven’t had the chance to see them live, so it is just for the album which you can easily find on Itunes or Amazon.

     The band consist of members: Amy Dumas (Lead vocals), Shane Morton (Guitar and vocals), Jay Hedberg (Bass and vocals.), Racci Shay (Drummer). The latter apparently replaced Troy King on drums.

     Right from the first song titled White Boy, the songs are catchy, fast paced, angst filled with all the good stuff punk music is known for. The theme through most of the lyrics seem consistent through several songs, which are that of a woman scorned. An indictment on an unknown person, most likely an ex, whom seems like a little bitch and a going through the motions of regaining independence of her life and eventually resulting in self-fulfillment of a brighter future.

     Granted that could just be a hell of a lot of inference on absolutely nothing, but you can view the lyrics and judge for yourself.

     The vocals are strong, the music crisp, and the lyrical content is interesting, even if it is somewhat banal for lyrical content. Originality can be overrated, though. You can pick up on many of the bands influences if you know about enough about punk rock. I managed to note and find The Misfits influence and I’m sure many more experienced punk rock listeners will find more.

     The run time is over a half hour long, so you won’t spend too much time having to sit down and really and give much thought to it. Given the edgy sound and style, it still manages to be fun. Which is more than I can say about most edgy bands. Usually they’re dark and brooding. Like back before vampires were twinks who sparkled. I digress and… seriously, fuckin’ sparkle? Never mind.

     If you want something you could speed through, say, shopping or at the gym, this is an interesting and excellent choice. Pick up a copy and you can finally stick it to your hipster friend about how you found and like a new band, but they probably never heard of them. That alone would be worth picking up this gem from 2007, never mind actually enjoying it. Enjoying it would just be a bonus. You could spend $9.99 on far worse, like say, 50 Shades of Grey, or you could listen to something that is at least 25 shades of enjoyable.

     This album gets the fingerofapproval

Best in Your Girl: The Novel.

Chapter One

     The glass on the den windows vibrated from the strong winds pounding against it with an intensity reminiscent of a starship pulling out of warp speed and just barely colliding with an asteroid A powerful thud, but unscathed.

     I reached out and grabbed the large black remote from the coffee table turned on the television, pushing my way through boring show, after boring show, until I came upon the weather channel, which was still far better than whatever sitcom was popular. I muttered to myself, then allowed the meteorologist his say. His voice was thick and masculine, like a Russian who could speak English with the precision of a native. “Looks like you’re getting 18’ massive inches of snow, with gale force winds coming in off the oceans within the next hour.”

     I moved towards the window and stared into the black abyss that was the night, watching as the sky spurted little flakes of white snow, which slowly drifted downward and accumulated upon the window sill of my den. Chills ran up my back as Goosebumps were aroused on my forearms, sending me to the other side of the house to grab myself a towel, in order to clean up the snow that would most likely force itself through the tight window opening, without mercy, ravaging the beautiful hard wood floors with unsightly bumps and buckles, unless someone made sure to use the proper protective barrier to prevent such.

     Only a few moments had passed when a huge dong sprang forth from the living room, cutting through the tension of the night, saving me from the hardcore debauchery of loneliness that pillaged the inside of my mind, driving me to the brink of madness and all without the radiance of Edgar Allen Poe’s elegant prose to make the lingering pain of despairs engorged embrace upon my soul even more burdensome.

     Moving over towards the fireplace, I snatched the whiskey off the mantel, removed the cap and brought the long, glass handle to my mouth, allowing the sweet ambrosia to fill my mouth and swallowed a swing in one massive gulp. My face slowly grew flushed as my capillaries burst, giving forth the slow rise to comfort and the illusion of warmth, which became displaced by the wetness of my pants, nestling itself right between my legs, making my pajama bottoms cling to my inner thigh. I hadn’t noticed the sticky liquid that had been spilled upon my pants when I grabbed the towel from the bathroom. I was too buzzed from the whiskey to be even mildly annoyed by the inconvenient spillage. I curled my lip and undid my bathrobe as I approached the bookcase and pulled down on the book, opening up the doorway to the spiral staircase that descended into the depths of depravity that was my underground lair.

     I pushed through the spiral doorway into a room dimly lit rectangular room, which would have been all but an inkwell of darkness if not for the small amount of lighting, which expressed itself through six, square-shaped windows in the ceiling above, allowing the silken gold light to rain down and envelop the bed in its warm, passionate embrace, as if a beacon had descended from the heavens, carving a path to the siren that was my bed and enveloping it in a warm and passionate embrace, which would surely be the demise of my night if I was to succumb to the temptations which it proffered.

     Lights on, I command with the same “swagger” Ali Baba must have wielded outside the den of thieves an eon earlier. The lights turned on slowly, like a strike to the match that would fully engulf the head with a flame, hypnotically dancing in the dark. A large black book lay on the bedside table, which, was insipidity titled little black book. I sunk down into the bed as I sat upon it and opened up the book containing head shots of woman who I had met over the years, each one with name and number beside them, three hole punched for easy flipping through the binder and all labeled according to hair color, age, body type, sexual predilections and more. I flipped through pages upon pages of woman from which I had my pick, depending on my mood and desires, stopping on the last page of the book.

     Her name was Christine Hernandez, She was a new addition, older and shorter than myself, with beautiful eyes that were gateways into her soul. The hues would change color and intensity based on her mood. One look could take you on an adventure and the next would destroy you where you stood. The same could be said of her hair, fiery red when she was temperamental and blue when she was sad. She couldn’t hide the nature of how she felt even if she tried, because they were as much a part of her as the blood in her veins. Connected as one, yet separate entities. One look at her and I was instantly hypnotized by how she seemed to transcend her humanity and yet was completely held down to earth at the same time. She was her own yin and yang and quite frankly, it drove me crazy with delight.

     Carefully, I removed the head shot from the top loader and grabbed the number on the back and dialed it into the phone. Pressing send, I watched as the seconds ticked up and the sound of the tone echoed in my ear, then a click, followed by a sultry voice on the other end and with a simple hello, I was reduced to rubble.

Kickstart my Heart.

     It is that time of year, when men everywhere forget to make plans for that romantic getaway, woman weep because they’re single and I can buy a large box of chocolates for $45.00 that only comes with one piece of candy that I like and about 35 pieces that I do not like, which taste no better than a common candy bar at the store. Yes, the Christmas. Er, Valentine’s day is here again.

     I’m not opposed to love, If you manage to find love, fantastic! My main concern is wondering why we need a stationary day to express our appreciation for the person that we’re in love with. Call me crazy, but if you’re in love, finding a day to express appreciation for your significant other should be the easiest thing in the world. Why could you show love for them just as much on August the 15th as you could on February the 14th? The boot to the economy, that is why, plus snow. Fuck you, snow!

     Going outside seems to be a wicked pissah for anything that isn’t going to work or something else that isn’t obligatory in the winter time, but it can be just as fun as any and without the bullshit of macro holidays that have little meaning.

     Which brings me to my next gripe with Valentine’s Day. When everyone is doing it at the same time, doesn’t it lack any semblance of being a special day? There is no surprise factor. Much like a flu shot for the millionth year in a row, it is mundane and routine. I think Valentine’s Day should be randomly assigned to a specific day each year, so that it is slightly more interesting. So starting with 2016, that special day could just as easily be the 25th of May as it is the 14th of February. Watching people scramble only two weeks ahead of time lends to Valentine’s Day the same excitement as a football game or a car chase.

     This single handily increases the worth of the day tenfold, which is great, because the other reason for finding this holiday to be a pissah is walking down the street and seeing all those single zombies slushing by with a grocery bag filled with Häagen-Dazs ice cream to cry and slowly feed themselves to death over the fact they don’t feel worthy of love. That is just the men that I’m talking about, never mind the woman who keep tissues at hand more readily than a teenage boy and feel much worse and drives them to watch movies like Fifty Shades of Grey.

     Speaking of bad decisions, while I’m at it, Valentine’s Day should be put on the schedule list of drugs. “Scientifically” speaking, Valentine’s Day, much like cocaine or heroin, often leads to bad decisions and not just the hideously awesome sweaters that you’ll wear once a year, but choices made out of desperation, just to not be alone when everyone else has someone. Like using dating profiles or worse, binge watching romantic comedies on Netflix. What other worse decisions could possibly be made than watching Four Christmas’ two months after the fact? Come on government, these atrocities need to be prevented, because no American deserves to be tortured by Vince Vaughn’s “acting.” It is inhumane and cruel and unusual punishment on both the psyche and the body, all because someone is single?

     If Valentine’s Day has taught us anything, thought, it is that people need someone validating their “love” like it is a parking garage ticket, which is a shame, because true love should need no affirmation from anyone other than the two people involved.

     The best way to express your feelings for a person isn’t with an expensive hotel room or hundred dollar box of chocolate that comes with a wicked awesome 10ft teddy bear–which in no way have I bought for myself, ever!—but with a simple kiss of appreciation for what your partner brings to the table on any day of the year and not just once. Simple expressions throughout the year make for a lot more than once a year when you try to compete with the world to show people how in love you are. Much like a closeted homosexual, it is obvious to everyone that isn’t you that you aren’t in love.

     Oh well, at least the 15th of February rocks, because 50% off Valentine’s Day candy is the shit!

(Minor corrections on 15 FEB 2015)

Degrassi: The NXT Generation.

      I never shy away from expressing a love for things that I greatly enjoy and for the last 26 years of my life, one of the many things I have enjoyed greatly is professional wrestling.

     When I was younger, I spent the majority of time exclusively watch the World Wrestling Federation, which is now and from here on out within this text, World Wrestling Entertainment or WWE. WCW did absolutely nothing for me and I did get to give TNA a go as a teenager, which came off as nothing but a WWE clone. I sadly never got to watch E-C-W in the original run of the show, but have since seen enough of it to know that I absolutely would have loved it. I still cannot bring myself to sit through WCW.

     Sadly, the last thirteen years of the 26 watching pro-wrestling had been filled with more misses than hits. It seems as if WWE has become more of a WCW clone than it had been in the past. I didn’t desire to watch WCW in its original run, never mind a weaker version of it. Yes, note that I said a weaker version of it.

     Fast forward to 2015 and I’ve had the privilege to enjoy watching NXT, which seems like an entirely different organization entirely. Yes, it is still WWE, but nothing like the current Raw or Smackdown shows. It is without a doubt the enema that pro wrestling has badly needed for over a decade and yet it is still owned by the same company.

     The overall enjoyment one gets from the televised taping of the show makes paying a monthly network fee seem like privilege rather than a chore.

     It seemly is following in the footsteps of a former company that did the same for its generation that also had three letters associated with it. I am, of course, talking about E-C-W. It is exactly that, but without the baggage of being extreme all the time. Which, when 99% of your matches are hardcore based, where would one have gone, short of live executions on television.

     The roster is deep with a talent pool filled of interesting and unique characters with gimmicks that seem to be better crafted, rather than intelligent insulting as WWE has been known to be in the past.

     The matches are longer, more exciting, and driven by an unknown force that keeps you riveted until the very end. It has gotten to a point that I do not watch Smackdown or Raw in favor of this show and while I wish I could say I get to watch it often, I haven’t had the chance to watch everything this brand has to offer, but it lacks the predictably of the main shows and favors wrestling over long, drawn out storylines that build up to nothing more than a filler mid-card match at the next Pay-Per-View.

     The woman’s division is outstanding and slowly eradicating the bias of many fans who for years have held out that woman cannot wrestle. You’ll never win anyone over, but I could not remember a time period were woman’s wrestling was an exciting and something to look forward to without the use of HLA (Hot Lesbian Action.) or being second fiddle to their boyfriends.

     The men’s division of NXT offers a mix of electic individuals that almost all seemingly work well together. The bad matches are few and far between and if you think any of them are hype, than I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news, because quite frankly, you’ll soon find yourself on the verge of a meltdown from a misjudging. I’ve made those, few and far between, so keep watching.

     It is at a point that all of these kids should be on the main roster as soon as possible to give Raw and Smackdown a reason to keep the loyal fan base tuning in.

     The genius behind this isn’t Vince McMahon or even the Pro Wrestling Messiah that is Paul Heyman, but none other than the King of King’s Triple H.

     I seemingly recall that many years ago, it was stated that if HHH had any control over the company it would be all about him, twenty four hours a day. Yet, all these years later, such a fear it is unfounded. I digress, but it should be noted to give credit where it is due.

     Maybe we should give him a chance to run the flagship brand for a couple of months as the level of the shows might vastly improve and be worth watching, much like when Heyman was operating Smackdown for a while.

     TNA should buy a network subscription and start ripping off NXT for ideas in the same way they rip off WWE’s core product. They might find there show improving. The smart bet would be to court NXT’s talent pool over main roster releases or legends as well.

     Within the next ten years, NXT is going to be THE brand to be watching and enjoying as it is going places and the road to glory is paved with gold.

     My only desire would be to see NXT ditch tapings and go full on live. At this point, it is the best reason to buy into the WWE Network, but is sadly overlooked when Daniel Bryan isn’t main eventing twenty four hours a day. Maybe it is time the Yes movement made its way back to NXT to give itself and the show the boost it desperately needs to catapult it well into the next frontier of WWE’s premiere entertainment and what would be better than a power struggle from within of HHH stealing Vince’s guys and gals and giving them the proper pushes and screen time they all deserve?

     It is the invasion angle we all would have loved when WWE brought up WCW back in 2001. It is the show that would of made a far better brand to be drafted to, as opposed to being a B+ player on a second rate show that, if it wasn’t for the last 15 years of buildup, would of probably had been ditched like a Shotgun Saturday night or Stevie(Sunday) Night Heat.

     If you are not a fan of pro wrestling, this brand could easily make one of you and if not, you are might be insane or worse, a fundy duddy, because this show kicks ass.

     Buy the network or find it on the local TV listings, because you will not be disappointed by giving this a watch.

     Five out of Five stars.

Online “Dating”

I’ve spent the last ten years using internet dating sites of all kinds, regardless of the type of site in an effort to understand why, even in a busy world, people bother to use these sites as a way to date or fuck. Quite frankly, to borrow from Penn & Teller, I think internet dating is bullshit!
There is a booming industry built around people’s loneliness and why I appreciate a good business venture as well as the next human, I will never understand why these sites thrive.
The algorithms being crap, is probably my biggest reason why these sites are so fuckin’ atrocious! Seriously? Stop thinking I’ll fall in love because we both think Motley Crue is the shit. I won’t and neither will anyone that isn’t a fuckin’ teenager. Online dating is like High School, but somehow manages to be worse, if that make sense. The only difference is that I loved the thongs that chicks wore in high school, which is pretty much the only thing that kept me from quitting.
The people aren’t the problem, though. The problem is….

     You know what? It isn’t even worth the energy to actually write an essay on these sites. Seriously, just go out and be willing to fail. Besides, it isn’t actually failing since it will eventually lead to where you should be. I’m the guy that you pretend to be on the internet. Nothing beats just going out. I’m old school like that! Also, it is a lot more fun and how nature intended it. 😉

(Fixed coding and typo. 31 Jan 15)

Size Beautiful

     I want to toss out a suggestion into the universe and hope that it catches on. It’s for a new word to describe woman who are comfortable with the size they are at. I call them size beautiful.

     What is a size beautiful girl? She is confident, sexy and happy with herself at the size she is. I’m not going to get into great detail here, other than to say that I, as a man, am tired of being subjected to standards of woman’s beauty. I am a man who loves big beautiful woman and slender beautiful woman as well.

     What do I consider beautiful? Anyone that isn’t harming their body and conforming to someone else’s standards. It would be nice if more woman where comfortable with the size they were at, without hating themselves.

     Sure, I can say that there is a healthy size for men and woman to be at, but it shouldn’t be one size fits all. It should be whatever weight they are healthy and happy at. If it’s not affecting their health, who cares?

     I would also like to see advertisers taking more steps to advance woman of all different types of beautiful.

     Beautiful is beautiful no matter what and I want to see more woman of all sizes. No more photoshoped to perfection type of woman.

     Keep it real and most of all keep them beautiful.