Lockout: Mainstream for the Troma Fan.

John Carpenter Sued 'Lockout' Creators for Plagiarism, and He Won

Could this new job be too good to be true.  Downtime and access to Blogspot.  A chance to be prolific again.  Better invest in a mirror to make sure the boss doesn't catch me.

It was an interesting week to say the least.  New wheels, off the phones for the first time in three years, officially and indisputably an uncle.  Enough has happened to almost forget about my shortcomings as an adult.  Unfortunately my taste for cinema and drama kept me relative grounded.  Great film, but wrong time to see Jason Reitman's "Young Adult."  So to bounce back, I watched some ill-regarded space themed pictures last night.

Receiving unfair assessments by the masses (so these flicks are just like me), I watched Disney's "Treasure Planet" and Luc Besson's "Lockout."  The prior may receive too much heat, but probably the correct amount of attention (is it me, but traditional animated Disney has not looked vivid since "The Lion King?"), since I did a lot more playing around with my phone than the latter.  This is probably only because the Guy Pearce flick was just louder (almost redundant to say when you think back to "Priscilla").

See the rest of the review at "NinetyForChill.com - A more appropriate runtime"

Feedback Please. Have I just zoned out for 9 months?

I was inspired to title the blog "Wanted:  Friends, Producers, Rabbis or Dealers," but my first pay check at my current job was not too bad, so that's not Facebook appropriate.

So I got to come up with something to write about.  Out of practice of course, but I haven't kept up on my Netflix and with Facebook being my only societal feed, my anger at human race is fleeting.

I actually think it maybe more directed at individuals.  Is it sad to say that the most recent blog idea was to write about how no promoter should book a particular insecure, pussy-whipped, son of a jobber Pekinite who post racist comment only to follow them by his sharing a "Pro Wrestler Against Bullying" image.  Posting that would be a bit hypocritical and frankly is to easy.

How Easy?  Do you really want the long winded version of that borderline run on sentence.  I also do not want to take the time to redesign the structure of this website to give that carny (meant in the Marigold Festival sense) to properly classify this blog.  I would defeat the ease in writing I was trying to obtain by switching this blog from Go Daddy to Blog Post.

Read the rest of this blog at MainEventoftheDead.com and determine if I am capable of writing/producing a no budget zombie/pro-wrestling movie.

Too long, too drunk to tweet, the good or bad taste of "Main Event of the Dead"

A lot of self reflection (and yes I know my to my true friends find that redundant) about the lack of knowing myself [maybe I'm the one...sad "The Matrix" reference I know and since fat people exist (I'm working on removing myself from their numbers), we are really in the real world] has consumed my thoughts of late.  I was about to have posted an edited an e-mail to my ex-girlfriend who was not from Morton Jr. High School requesting her to think of me as less of a dick, but thankfully the inability to state my most recent, potentially tasteless thought in 140 characters have resulted in me questioning the exploitation of the people whom beyond CM Punk who make pro wrestling relative.

To help promote "Main Event of the Dead" and a Kickstarter project for it, I was thinking about doing the Zombie Crawl (June 10, 2012 Farmington Road, Peoria, IL) with Road Warrior Hawk face paint.  It would just be cheaper that putting one of my lucha libre mask though hell.

Read the complete blog at http://maineventofthedead.com.

Facebook Should Be the Ultimate Bar, So Know the Rules

DO NOT TALK ABOUT RELIGION OR POLITICS ON FACEBOOK. 

It seems like the idiots I talk about say stupid, borderline hateful shit because they would be considered shunned if they said the hateful adjective that they want to scream out.

I really gotta get back to writing daily.  When the end of the month comes, there are so many twisted ideas that I haven't expressed, it is tough to determine which one gets a month dedicated to it.

There is no excuse for the lack of production.  Or at least, my acceptance of my fleeting existence.  Bukowski, Hemingway, and the greatest female writers thrived because of that.  When are Stephanie Meyer and J.K. Rowling going to off themselves to prove their witches and vampires aren't just fluff?

Then again, I'm not that great a writer.  I could blame that on living in Midwest for my entire life.  It just lacks the insanity of war or delivering mail in East Los Angeles to support a gambling addiction.  Guess I still have my sanity, suppose it's a bad thing.

At least sanity is ironic.  It is a tough to keep one's sanity though when you go onto Facebook and see some of the uneducated, divisive shit people are willing to post

Read the conclusion of this blog at MainEventoftheDead.com and tell me if my opinionated nature can carry over into Pro-Wrestling and Zombie B-Movies. 

What is there to Hurrah about?

Recently, I've found myself in an existential conundrum. A lot of things bugging me. My value or potential value to others. The lack of a secure feeling about my current job. Actually ending up in the black, but not having anything to direct the fortune to (I really need someone to do some poster work for "Main Event of the Dead").

It kind of feels like my wrist has been broken again. No wrestling to devote myself to and no awesome influence like Stacia Hardin to realize there are more important thing to life. Or to at least make me think wonderful things like rainbows, unicorns, and real libertarians could exist.

Perhaps, the wrestling wouldn't be on my mind except for the bullshit that is NGW: The Last Hurrah.

As the title of the blog implies (I am proud of the titles duality with my general mind set), there is nothing the promotion did to be proud of. There is just no reason to celebrate it's death.

The best things the promotion did was allow six of us to go to a wrestling clinic in Cincinnati for 25 bucks each and NGW teaching Brett Gakiya and CJ Esparza how to run the ropes. At least that was all that happened when I was part of the promotion. Otherwise, the only good I think it did was lay the groundwork down for the VBI Tourneys. On the flip-side, it laid the groundwork for Ian Rotten to keep running third rate-shows.

You could say it gave a few guys the chance to live out their dreams since it was just not practical for them to dedicate themselves to the business. Unfortunately, a lot of them were the Pekin kids. It was a step above backyard wrestling, but the environment did not encourage them to pursue their dreams.

From what I could gather, none of them worked outside of NGW until the promotion quit running shows on a frequent basis. I suppose you could count whatever promotion the so called trainer Norman Callaway got conned into being a part of. World Wrestling Zone and Thunder Wrestling Federation come to immediate mind (I won't list the con-artist names, but I'm sure you remember who they are).

Check out the rest of this blog at "Main Event of the Dead.com and let me know if my satire and movie knowledge should produce a Pro-Wrestling Zombie movie.

Don't you think our flag is lame?

I'm trying to come up with a tattoo idea. Oh, the nuisance I can be to myself after adjusting to second shift sleeping hours. Especially when I got to take the cat to the vet, go to the dentist and pay a speeding ticket.

Damn Chillicothe for building it's town on a state highway. If you don't want me to go 44 in a 35 (I blame Five Man Electric Band for me not seeing the 30 mph sign... or should I say Tesla), then put some projects around the road like Peoria. You gotta drive safe on Adams because you don't want to get into a hit and run. If you do hit a pedestrian, the paranoia of desperate poor folks won't allow you to leave your car to check on the victim or wait for the authorities. A catch 22, or should I say a catch 29.

But Chilli makes all their money on traffic violations, and we don't want to cripple their chances of getting a Family Video or a KFC to complete the Pepsi fast food trifecta. I'd think it would hurt Dream Illustration's business though.

So back to the tattoo idea. I was thinking of using the English flag, the St George, not the Union Jack (screw the Scots and Irish). I'm thinking in the top left quarter adding a hammer and sickle or the Nerv logo from Neon Genesis Evangelion of course. Some how, I know which melding would not be "got."

Originally, I was considering using the Le Tigre feminist anthem FYR with the Nerv logo, but was a good friend reminded me how esoteric that would be. Thanks Adult Swim for ruining anime and JD Sampson for killing a new riot grrrl era to focus on the butch crying.

Actually, neither of these latest ideas maybe got since Americans have a flag with zero versatility. The flags with perpendicular bars or open fields allow for variations to the design. Just wiki English or Scandinavian flags and you will understand this arrangement.

Read the rest of this blog at MainEventoftheDead.com and feel free to inquire about getting a copy of my Zombie-Comedy, Pro-Wrestling script.

Pit bulls are dog Nazis, not a Facebook mascot.

I've probably sat on the inspiration for too long. As I let the idea roll around in my head for the past couple hours, the wackiness has smoothed out. It had some real wild tangents and covered racial tensions and the morons who think it is okay to own pit bulls.

Okay, let me comment on the pits. It is not the owners or the abusers of these killers. Yes, killers. Fuzzy murder machines is what their genealogy designed them to be. Dare I say they are the Lady Gagas of the canine family because they were born that way. Plus, it is not much of a stretch to see Gaga exploit midgets like pit bulls have.

Thus, I guess dobermans are the barking Madonna's. The latest Super Bowl experiment was hot and dangerous 20 years ago while you have to have a wide acceptance of what beauty to consider whom the queers have overly embraced as sexy.

Read the rest of this blog at MainEventOfTheDead.com and be the judge if my satire and criticism can be translated into a B-Movie comedy about Pro-Wrestling Zombies.