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!

The 1st Annual Random Examiner Awards

Welcome to The Random Examiner Awards! I started this in part for my own satisfaction and to voice my own opinion, but also as an alternative to the Academy Awards, Golden Globes, and to a lesser extent, the MTV Music Video Awards and the Nickelodeon Kids' Choice Awards (most of the awards are chosen by those with little to no merit; those of smarmy, douchey Academy, the mostly-pre-18-year-old demographic of MTV, and kids that still watch Twilight and iCarly). At least I come out and tell you it's a matter of opinion. My awards offer nothing beyond a pat on the back. We don't even offer a real trophy (yet). So sit back and enjoy The 1st Annual Randies!

The Chester A. Arthur Award for Best Facial Hair

So much emphasis is being placed on facial hair these days, both sincerely and ironically. The title of this award was named for our unarguably hairy 21st President of the United States, Chester Alan Arthur.

(and he was in competition with Martin Van Buren)

The first winner of this prestigious award was difficult to choose, as among the nominees were my hero Brian Wilson of the San Francisco Giants, who rocks the mountain-punk beard, and Stan Andrus, who has long donned the intellectual Satan look. But the indisputable victor this, the very first, year is Mr. Peter Beckstrom, formerly of Simi Valley, CA!

That Michael "Bronson" Peterson mustache and Chuck Liddell mohawk combination won the bout via knockout.

Movie Gem of the Year

Another difficult choice, as I have discovered so many movie gems this year. But where Piranhaconda doesn't come out until next year and Thankskilling is stuck somewhere between "so-bad-it's-good" and just "self-consciously bad," the winner had to be;

The 1959 Mexican cinematic adventure, Santa Claus! I watched this movie on Netflix with my OPK brethren. Basically, all you need to know is that it stars Santa Claus, Merlin the Magician, and Lucifer! Okay, well technically, it's Lucifer's chief demon Pitch, but they all look alike. That's not a slant on demons. We don't endorse any negative stereotypes here, be they Asian or demonic.

Oh yeah, and Santa plays the organ... while watching the children of the world... all of them racially-driven stereotypes... most of whom wield guns... and Santa looks at them like this;

(he sees you when you're sleeping...)

Special kudos go to the 2004 remake of Dawn of the Dead. It's not that it's a particularly great movie so much as the shock value in seeing a zombie baby get shot. I nearly died laughing.

(don't judge me! I'm no more sick than the rest of you, just more openly so! and don't even pretend you wouldn't shoot this little bastard, too)

My-Personal-Opinion Man-of-the-Year Award

This has been the hardest decision yet, as I haven't yet decided on the credentials. However, it seems somehow inappropriate to give awards posthumously, so I cannot give the award to Christopher Hitchens or Patrice O'Neal, although both were considered. It also seems that the person in question has to have accomplished something of worth within the past year (beyond dying), so I couldn't give it to Brian Wilson, no matter how much I want to. But even disregarding that, I don't think I could in good conscience give the award to someone has already been nominated for another award, and as Brian Wilson was previously nominated for the Chester A. Arthur Award, he couldn't have it anyway. And there is no chance in Hell I can give the award to myself, although I considered that narcissistic move as well. And although the discovery that the band t.A.T.u. disbanded earlier this year pains me, that doesn't seem like something worth celebrating. Therefor, the winner of the first-ever Randy Award is Amber Heard. Now, I realize the technicality that Amber Heard isn't actually a man so much as a wo-man, but those are basically men with a few minor biological differences, right? She's a rising star, and I've been a fan ever since seeing her in Pineapple Express. In 2011, she starred in two motion pictures; one with Johnny Depp (who is talented and great), and one with Nicolas Cage (who is bland and stale). However, she managed to make a crappy Nic Cage vehicle (Drive Angry) suck a little less. And she starred alongside Mr. Depp and Aaron Eckhart in a Hunter S. Thompson movie adaptation (Johnny's second) in The Rum Diaries. So, here's to you, Amber Heard, you sexy, sexy man!

(the MPO Man of the Year is, in fact, a foxy woman. and she totally deserves the recognition)

Advent of Angst #4: And Now for Something Completely Different...

So, Christmas is upon us. I hope you've all learned something, and I'd like to think I put forth my best effort to inform you on it. But this, the final Advent of Angst of the season, will not be dedicated to the birth of Jesus (or rather, the Christian-friendly pagan holiday, for those of you paying attention), I'll be focusing on the birth of another important public figure; me.

Today is my 24th birthday. Not that that's worthy of much celebration - in fact, I don't really understand celebrating birthday anyway. I mean, it's basically just congratulating someone for going another year without dying. Not that I don't appreciate special attention, and I love gifts (whoever says they don't like getting presents is either a liar or stupid), and I definitely won't turn down a free dessert at a restaurant, but the way I see it, we shouldn't be celebrating the completion of years, but of life in general. What better time to do that than the New Year? New Year's Eve is kind of like a big birthday party already, only with more focus on the group than the individual. Everybody wins. Some more so than others, but that's life. All I'm gonna say is that I bet more children are conceived on New Year's than probably any other time except Valentine's Day (I haven't read any statistics on it, but it sounds entirely accurate in my head).

The past few years have felt numbingly familiar. I'd say years 21-23 all felt roughly the same, which in turn felt a bit like 18 or 19, so I was expecting it to happen again this year. But you know something? It doesn't feel the same. 'Cause I'm ready for a change.

(this is all I really want for my birthday; Carly Foulkes. that would be a welcome change!)

Don't get me wrong; living at home rent-free with your parents has its advantages (such as living rent-free), but it also has its drawbacks (such as living with your parents). I'm ready to move on. Get a real job (preferably something which doesn't involve making sandwiches for morons). Get a little crazy (yeah! this nerdy, virginal white boy is a real party animal - so long as it doesn't cut into his bedtime!).

I must say, this has been a satisfying birthday. The kind of birthday that makes me realize that life isn't so bad, that maybe I shouldn't abandon all hope in humanity (once you've given up on that, all you left is God, and I don't have much hope for that either). I spent some time with with my people, my OPK brothers, filming a skit with an alcoholic Santa before grabbing a bite to eat at Chili's (where my tab was graciously paid for by Tony and Kurt - thanks again, you guys. I owe you, and you know damn well what that means!). And I've enjoyed spending time with my family. My parents got me a nice a shirt and something (?) that has yet to arrive in the mail. My brother Vance got me a comic book called Bone, to which I look forward to nerding out (I always feel like Yoda when I try to speak proper English - dangle your participle, you mustn't!).

Well, I've enjoyed my birthday. And perhaps I've been to harsh on the secular celebration of birth. After all, it seems entirely appropriate to celebrate your birthday by giving life to a new paradigm.

The times, they are a-changin'. Indeed they are, Bob.

Advent of Angst #3: Coming This Christmas...

It's a Wonderful Life. Miracle on 34th Street. White Christmas. These are just a few some of the classic Christmas movies that we have made throughout the years, and the list goes on. A Christmas Story pretty much plays on a loop on TBS. The Grinch That Stole Christmas and A Charlie Brown Christmas are both classic TV specials. I love the Muppets, so of course The Muppet Christmas Carol and A Muppet Family

Christm

as are some of my favorites. But for every g

ood Christmas movies, there are about ten lousy ones.

I'll start the list first with Christmas Shoes. I really dig Rob Lowe, but I hold a strong vendetta against anything to do with that awful song. Besides, Mr. Lowe is far too talented to be making made-for-TV movies on CBS.

(really, dude. you played #2 in The Spy Who Shagged Me. don't live that down)

Next, Santa Claus Conquers the Martians. Two parents (from Mars, mind you), kidnap Jolly Old St. Nick so that the children (of Mars) can enjoy the same fun other (Earth) children do. But some cranky (Martian) guy thinks this is a bad idea, believing that this will corrupt the (Mars) children (freakin' evangelicals, man!), and attempts to kill Santa. I don't want to ruin the movie for you, but let's just say Santa conquers the Martians.

Jingle All the Way. C'mon - it's Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sinbad. What can I possibly say that will make it sound any worse than it already does? I was going to mention that the only plus is that you get to hear Arnie say "rubber baby buggy bumpers," but I can't even say that. That's in Last Action Hero.

("Let off some steam, Bennett.")

Santa With Muscles. Hulk Hogan as a rich, douchey, body-building millionaire (well I can hardly believe that) who, in an attempt to flee cops, dresses as a mall Santa, hits his head, gets amnesia, believes himself to be the real Santa, and somehow ends up saving an orphanage from an evil scientist.

And just when you think the list is over, I recently discovered this gem;

That's right, boys and girls! Santa's Slay, starring yet another bald former professional wrestler, Bill Goldberg! In this craptastic Christmas flick, Santa Claus is the result of a virgin birth produced by Satan (apparently, his surname is "Claus"). Christmas was originally "the day of slaying" until an angel defeated Santa in - get ready for it - a curling match and sentenced him to 1000 years of delivering presents! I haven't seen this movie, but any movie featuring Satan and curling is already a winner in my book! Besides, I watched enough professional wrestling in 1998 to know how this goes. Santa enters the house, starts tackling everybody violently to the ground, throws them around a bit, Gorilla Press Slams them, and then finishes them off with the Jackhammer body slam.

Ya know, based on the track record of quality Christmas movies made, I think I could make one myself. I already have it planned out.

It's based on a dream I had a few years back. You know it's movie-quality because it took form of a movie preview (complete with the green screen "the following preview is approved for appropriate audiences"). To begin with, all the people in the movie were actually muppet-people. It was about some middle-aged guy and an old woman wreaking havoc on Christmas. All I really remember is a lot of explosions and the old lady shooting a guy with a harpoon (!). So I'll have to use my imagination to fill the gaps. Oh, and did I mention it's called Holiday Holocaust?

It takes place in a small, cold town (probably somewhere in Wisconsin or Minnesota), where the townspeople are going gaga over Christmas (think the whos in The Grinch). Everybody is happily taking part in the festivities except for five people. Three of those people are a family of Jehovah's Witnesses, so that doesn't count. The other two are a cranky, conservative, irritable guy and a reclusive, bitter old woman. Coincidentally, they live on the same street and haven't shared much acquaintance with one another, except for their distaste of the Holiday Season. This year, the man (we'll call him "Jeff-Bob") gets a message from the woman (whom we'll call "Beatrice") in the form of a fruitcake. On the underside of the hard, crusty, ancient pseudo-pastry, there is a note detailing plans to destroy Christmas for the community. He calls her and agrees to meet her, and together they hatch plans to blow up Maul-Mart and set the tree at City Hall on fire. Jeff-Bob uses his home-made napalm to set the giant, latex tree ablaze, while Beatrice uses old, German bombs to destroy Maul-Mart.

After their initial success, they plan more destructive activities and share their stories about the hatred of Christmas. Jeff-Bob's father, Zeke, was a mountain man who cut and sold trees for Christmas, but the local hippie community protested, destroying his business. Without his business, Zeke turned to alcohol and lost custody of Jeff-Bob to a liberal couple who lived in a tee-pee and ate organic foods. Jeff-Bob has hated Christmas and hippies ever since. Beatrice says that Christmas has been "hijacked by pagans," and she intended to "put the Christ back in Christmas." However, Beatrice's rage soon turns deadly, as she begins systematically killing those she believes pose the greatest threat to Christmas; the Mayor, who insists on displaying Kwanzaa and Hanukkah decor at City Hall, despite the fact the there is only one Jew and one black person in town, and it is the same person; Ms. Janice, a plump lady who bakes secular pastries and decorates her tree in pink; and Douglas "godboy6613" Howard, a self-made internet millionaire, who posts videos about the occult.

After a heated argument, Beatrice reveals herself to be one of the remaining heirs of Adolf Hitler and Eva Braun (the other being Fred Phelps). As it turns out, as WWII came to a close, Hitler and Eva fled to the South American country of Mandoras, where they lived under the name "Pablo and Olga Gomez." They raised Beatriz with a firm belief in a master race, and on her death bed, Eva/Olga made Beatriz promise to "take the holidays back from the Jew."

After this, Jeff-Bob teams with Sheriff Billy Macbeth and Greek imigrant/mall Santa/Elvis impersonator/convicted felon Niko "Bubba" Papadopoulos to take down the evil heir of Hitler. After several more explosions, a number of gun fights, and a car chase later, Jeff-Bob and Beatrice face off on the roof of City Hall. After pummeling Jeff-Bob nearly to death, Jeff reveals the pin from a grenade he planted on Beatrice, and they both blow up. The movie ends with Billy and Bubba traveling to Kansas in a convertible wearing New Year's party hats to take care of Fred Phelps, Hitler's only remaining heir.

The End.

(roll credits)

Advent of Angst #2: Are You There, Santa?

Awww. Is there anything more sweet and innocent than a child's letter to Santa?

I'm not gonna waste a lot of time on this, so I'll just come out and say it (spoiler alert!); no. Here are some childrent's letters up north (and some down south) that will leave you questioning your faith mankind.

Dear Santa,

Look, I'm not going to lie to you; I haven't been nice at all this year, and I don't intend to be nice this coming year. But year in and year out, you have little boys and girls that b.s. their way out of the "naughty" list. So, listen. I think we both know the right thing to do; get me a present anyway. At least I have the testicular fortitude to confess my vices.

- Scott G.

Tucson, AZ

Dear Santa,

All I want for Christmas this year is for mommy to stop hitting daddy. She's an alcoholic and he's wheelchair-bound :(

- Winston U.

Reno, NV

To Mr. Santa J. Claus,

Last year, my client explicitly asked for a Malibu Bratbie doll. She informs me she was very nice in the preceding months, going so far as to acknowledge the existence of her father and being a little less cruel to the minorities at her private school. Yet, you either forgot to leave the doll under the Christmas tree or denied her access to the doll due to some minor misbehavior or otherwise failed to deliver the doll. So we offer you this ultimatum; either leave the aforementioned doll and another gift of her choosing (a Shetland pony), or we will see you in court.

- Hannibal Gumb, attorney at law

representing the case of Ms. Brandi C.

Beverly Hills, CA

Dear Santa,

In this time of giving and joy, I am in far more pleasant conditions than countless others. There are children starving in the streets everyday, so here's my Christmas wish this year; can't you just kill them and end their misery? Shoot them in the head, smother them with a pillow, whatever. Be creative. It's up to you. Ball's in your court, dude.

- Billy B.

La Crosse, WI

Dear Satan,

The last letter you received from me was actually intended for Santa, not you. Sorry about that. I hope we're still cool.

- Brent O.

Brigham City, UT

Dear Satan,

Quit stealing my look. You're cramping my style.

- Stan A.

Salt Lake City, UT

Dear Satan,

Thanks for your help and support, yo. Never say never.

- Justin B.

Los Angeles, CA (by way of Ontario, Canada, baby!)

Satan,

The DNA test results are back, and when it comes to Rosemary's baby, you are the father.

-Maury P.

Washington, D.C.