Hollywood Murder Cases

If ever there should be a zombie epidemic, the zombies gonna go hungry from looking for brains.

What the world lacks now is originality. I realize the earth is over 4 billion years old, and the Solar System itself is around 4.5 billion years old, but we don't know as much as we'd like to think we do, and we certainly haven't done everything. But in Hollywood, things are done over and over and over again. It seems as though over the past decade or so, there's been nothing but sequels, prequels, and remakes. Don't get me wrong, some of them have been fantastic. But for every True Grit, there's a dozen Mr. Popper's Penguins (no, I haven't seen it, and no, I won't be seeing it). Hell, they're already rebooting the Spider-Man franchise, and although I agree the Tobey Maguire films were atrocious, I gotta say... dude, too soon. I mean, the series just died. It's like telling Casey Anthony a dead baby joke.

(stop me if you've heard this one...)

Hollywood is getting away with murder. And at such a sad price. I died a little inside when they made Dumb and Dumberer. They took a beloved comedy about two idiotic friends and turned it into a feature-length retard joke. If Hollywood is going to destroy such great movies, I want them destroyed entirely. Obliterated. To the point that no one can ever resurrect them. And then, in a few years, the remakes will be forgotten and we will still have our fond memories of the greats to hold on to. I have a few ideas of my own on how to euthanize the classics.

Idea #1 - The Crossover

Alien vs. Predator. Freddy vs. Jason. They're the Flintstones Meet the Jetsons of Hollywood blockbusters. Hey, they're remaking both Child's Play and Carrie, why not just have the killer-possessed toy, Chucky, fight the misunderstood, misanthropic, psychopathic teenager, Carrie?

(actually, I would pay to see this)

Idea #2 - The Misguided Moral

Spike Lee is remaking the Korean Oldboy. Now, I've seen Oldboy, and besides being incredibly effed up (in all the wrong ways), it's the ultimate revenge story. No offense to Mr. Lee, but I'm expecting to see racial themes mixed in and skewering the movie's initial purpose. But maybe that's just me being racist?

Idea #3 - The Confused Casting

Back when Tim Burton made Batman, there was some controversy in the casting of Michael Keaton in the lead role, but in the end he disproved the naysayers. That can happen, but it usually doesn't. Usually, you're stuck with Ben Affleck as Daredevil in a movie adaptation with a plot so paper-thin it tears before you get a chance to get involved. They're remaking Annie with spoiled celebrity child and hair-whipping enthusiast, Willow Smith. However, I must make note that they're also remaking Highlander, and how they got Sean Connery to play a Spaniard to begin with is beyond me.

I guess, in the end, the only way to get Hollywood from making these steaming piles of fecal film matter is to stop paying to see them. I'm not so pessimistic as to say they'll never learn, because when we refused to watch Jersey Girl, Kevin Smith started making good movies again.

When in doubt, use Kevin Smith as your beacon of hope. Because why should the sun be the positive beacon oh hope anyhow? If you don't protect yourself from it, at least you'll get a sunburn; at most, skin cancer.

The Day After Yesterday

Other People's Kids are in business, and we're in the process of making a short film. It's based on the idea that when the sun explodes, it would take eight minutes before anyone on earth realized it. It will show the last minutes of life on earth, and so far the movie shows promise of being our best work. So for those of you who are fans of our funnier stuff, I'm sorry, and I would like apologize each of you. All eleven of you.

If you found out you were about to die, how would you spend the rest of your life? The initial response is that you would spend time with your family and loved ones, but I'm almost certain it would end in some good, old-fashioned looting. So, unless you plan on looting with friends and family, quit lying to yourself. You know you've always wanted that high-def flat-screen television, and you only have a few short hours to enjoy it, damn it!

I myself would treat it like any other day. Why should death dictate my actions? What's that? I'm pretty sure I heard scoffing. Half of you probably think that's selfish of me to spend my last moments in seclusion, and the other half of you are calling me out on not being afraid of death. "But Randy," you're saying, "it's easy to say you don't fear death until you're looking down the barrel of a gun." Well, to you self-righteous turds, let me just say, that's already happened to me. And it was more annoying than scary. Having an eighteen- or nineteen-year-old kid demanding your bags and watches is really irritating. All we had in our bags were scriptures anyway. That was the easiest missionary work I've ever done. But maybe it was a matter of who was wielding the gun. Maybe if it was some Bam Bam Bigelow-looking guy instead some small, slender, boyish Brazilian, it might have been more frightening. But then, if the attacker's holding a gun, should that really matter?

(not pictured; the guy who held me up)

There worse things to happen than death (which is why I'm pro-euthanasia). If I was dead, besides not having to experience pain, I wouldn't have to deal with the things that piss me off (like dolphins) or frighten me (like horses). And that sounds like a pretty good deal to me.

(the only thing I trust horses in is glue)

I would argue that most people aren't actually afraid of dying, but rather the uncertainty of death. Heaven offers a peace of mind to those who believe in an afterlife (although, if there is a Heaven, I'm less certain about my entry into it). I think what we should fear is leading an unfulfilled life. I have so much to experience, I can't afford to die yet.

And I intend to live for a while. Obviously, I can't dictate my mortality, but I'm not gonna be the one to pull the trigger. That's prone to change should I ever get cancer or I'm paralyzed, but as for now I'm content living and breathing and treating every day like every other day. And you know what? Most days are pretty damn decent.  Even those with horses and dolphins (which, I admit, aren't very many, but I was speaking metaphorically).

Nice Guys Finish Last (or: Why I'm a Dick)

First off, I'd like to wish a happy birthday to Jason Voorhees. In just a little over 30 years, you've established yourself as a movie legend, striking fear into various teenagers, guidance counselors, and a handful of sexually promiscuous others. But you're far too old to continue living this lifestyle. The truth is, you've become a walking self-parody, a shadow of your former self. With each sequel you became progressively less frightening, and the remakes did nothing to revamp your style. When movies wear themselves thin with sequels, the Friday the 13th series is used as a basis for comparison (well, that and Land Before Time). It's time to retire, old man. But as you turn in your machete in favor of a walker, I have no doubt you'll continue to strike fear into the hearts of many each time you get behind the wheel of a car. And don't worry, we'll put you somewhere nice, along with fellow slasher veterans Freddy Kreuger, Michael Myers, and Leatherface.

Jason Voorhees, despite all his character flaws (antisocial behavior, psychopathy, perpetually returning from the dead, et al.), I've always believed him to be a misunderstood villain. He was constantly harassed by others for his disfigurement as a child, and was neglected by sexually promiscuous guidance counselors, leading to his death (for which he has a long-standing grudge). Of all movie killers, he is undoubtedly the slowest, biggest, and most awkard. Clearly, we have a lot in common.

(Jason Voorhees; a portrait in lost innocence)

I enjoy being negative. I'm postively pessimistic. And I offer no excuses for this; this is of my own choosing. But I have my reasons for being the bitter, pissy "douche bag with a heart of gold" that I am today; nice guys finish last. And don't try debating me on this.

Mohandas Gandhi used passive-resistance to fight the British colonials in India. For this, he was shot and killed. Malcolm X was a militant black nationalist who joined the Nation of Islam and inspired the Black Panthers. It wasn't until he pursued a more peaceful, Martin Luther King-esque form of protest that he was killed by black radicals. And that Jesus guy? The one who said to love your neighbor, to turn the other cheek, to forgive those who wrongly accuse you? Yeah. He was crucified in favor of the criminal, Barabbas.

Che Guevara was an undeniably violent revolutionary who helped Fidel Castro gain power of Cuba. Che was assassinated, but has become a bit of a Jesus figure to many leftists. As for Fidel Castro, he died of old age, after a long, successful career of oppression. And Charles Mansion was a tragically failed rockstar and self-proclaimed Jesus (and sometimes Satan?) incarnate who used his followers for drugs and sex and to commit murders. His "family" was sentenced the death penalty; he is currently living out his life penalty in the Corcoran State Prison and the object of many macabre stories and documentaries, feeding into his long-desired rockstar persona.

(I fought against capitalism and all I got was my image commercialized on this lousy T-shirt)

I myself have had a few too many bad experiences being nice to the wrong people. Long story short, people tend to mistake my kindness with creepiness, flirtatiousness, or both. That is a bad combination. But when I'm bluntly sarcastic, people are either offended or pleased. That's how I choose my friends and weed out the weak. I treat others the same way I expect to be treated. So my pessimism has served me well, or at least much better than my innate generosity.

I haven't given up entirely on being a nice guy, but I'm selective in doing so. After all, I've got a reputation to maintain.

2012: The Year That Should Not Be (But Is)

I hope you've all recovered from your holiday hangovers.

I'm going to just assume everybody already know about that Mayan calendar that supposedly predicts the end of the world in 2012, because it ends on December 21 (one day before my birthday - ancient prophecies try to ruin everything!). Here's a crazy idea; maybe they ran out of space! Yeah, maybe it was due to an error on the designer's part. This was a Mayan civilization, people. This guy could have been sacrificed due to insolence. For all we know, he was killed before he could start on the second calendar. But some people insist on believing in crazy. The Y2K bug raised quite a scare, but was quickly exterminated. In the eleven mostly boring years since, we've experienced hysteria from diseases carried by cows, birds, and pigs (the three basic food groups). And once our fear of animals settled and we began eating like normal Americans again, some Bible-thumpin' crazy named Harold Camping prophecied the Rapture would take place on May 21 (one day before my sister's birthday - what gives, douche bag crackpots?). Being the wizened old Bible-thumper he was, people actually believed him. He had already predicted the Rapture once before for September 6, 1994, and no man can be wrong twice, can they? To be fair, though, I believe he may have been right about the 2011 Rapture, which proves what I've thought all along - none of us made God's cut.

I beg pardon of the crackpots of the world, but I'm actually feeling pretty good about 2012. Screw 2011 and good riddance! This is my year, and no crackpot douche bag is gonna take that away from me! I've got resolutions for this year, and unlike in years past, I resolve to resolve my resolutions!

#1 - Lose weight. So far, no good.

#2 - Get a job, move out, and move on.

#3 - Keep better track of my finances and better invest (to be interpreted as "Stop spending money like a Desperate Housewife of Whoreville." - all the Whores down in Whoreville like money a lot, but The Random Examiner, who lived just south of Whoreville, did not... have any.)

And if that's not enought, there's a lot to look forward to this year. I look forward to working more with the Other People's Kids. We've got some big plans ahead; a couple of short films and feature-length film we hope to spread the OPK name. We're also doing voice work for Fantasy, Inc., a cartoon we're putting up on youtube this year (and for which I have written a couple of episodes). I look forward to expanding my skills and working on screenplays. And I look forward to movies.

Oh, yes. There will be movies.

And I'm not even talking about The Hobbit or The Dark Knight Rises (although I do look forward to both of them). I'm talking about discovering more movie gems. I already have a few I need to check off for this year.

The Abominable Dr. Phibes

Dude, I love classic Hollywood. And just with modern cinema as with old Hollywood, I still hold this to be true; good movies are good, but bad movies are great. This is a cult classic featuring Vincent Price. What's that? The name doesn't ring a bell? Uncultured simpletons. It is he of the classic creeper voice, he was acting until his death in 1993. You may know him better as the old professor in Edward Scissorhands or for doing voiceover work on Michael Jackson's Thriller or Alice Cooper's Welcome to My Nightmare. He was typecast as a villain in classic Hollywood, just like another of my favorites, Peter Lorre (don't know him either? curses!).

A little trivia time. Did you know he played Joseph Smith, Jr. in the movie Brigham Young? I had no idea Joseph Smith had such a cool voice! There you have it; Vincent Price has played everyone from Dr. Phibes to Joseph Smith.

(also, he played Egghead in the live-action Batman TV series. eggcellent!)

Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale

I know what I plan on watching this coming Holiday Season! Another "evil Santa" movie! This one comes from Finnland. A team of workers uncover the largest burial mound in the world, but one occupant is still alive. It turns out to be Santa, but instead of rewarding good boys and girls, he "punishes" (see also; kills) the naughty ones.

(if you look up "stoked" in the dictionary, you'll see me beside a picture of this promotional poster)

C.H.U.D.

I think all you really need to know about this is that "chud" is an acronym for "cannibalistic humanoid underground dwellers."

(some sort of hideous chud or something)

Basket Case

Siamese twins, Duane and Belial (one normal, the other malformed), were separated at birth, which pissed them off, and they go on a rampage to kill the doctors responsible for their separation. Sounds like a winner!

(Belial went on to become the beloved "Slimer" of Ghostbuster fame)

Death Bed: The Bed That Eats

Immortalized by comedian Patton Oswalt, this is a previously unreleased 1977 film about a bed that eats people. This movie should be pretty self-explanatory.

(no, not that deathbed. this looks way creepier.)

Happy New Year 2012! 2011 can bite it!