X, Cootie, Haley and myself were in my house. My house was old though. Dark wood everywhere. Rich tapestries and carpets. Like a manor house. We were all getting some coffee and I remembered that X and Cooties’ daughter and her 2 friends were in the RV parked on the property. I asked if they may want some coffee and after a confirmation from Cootie, began filling a thermus. One Keurig at a time.
I know, right?
So my thermus full, I begin to exit the house to go to the RV. X says “Don’t let me forget to tell you about the 10th director of The Exorcist he only directed a 3 minute scene, but it was amazing.” I agreed to remind him and stepped out into the pre-dawn / post-dusk gloom of a thunderstorm. As lighting flashed and thunder boomed, I noticed a man and a woman talking. She expressed her intent to leave and then began moving toward a near-by high walled garden. He looked longingly after her and I though I should follow her. As I rounded the corner of the house, I heard a disembodied voice say “BEWARE OF X’S MOTHER!”

What the fuck.

I glanced up the lawn and saw a blue push-mower coming toward me, with no one pushing it. Immediately thinking of Maximum Overdrive I dodged out of the way. The Damn thing turned around and came at me again. “You’ve got to he fuckin kidding me” I exclaimed as I dodged out of the way a second time. As it turned for another attempt to make me shorter, lightning flashed and I suddenly there was a woman there pushing it. It was this woman, to be specific:

spooky shit, eh?

I woke up in a startled panic. It was very real and very fuckin weird.

So any idea what that would mean? If anything? Give it your best interpretations in the comments below.

Love.

Love

Ok, now lets say that you said Pizza, beer, Hamburgers, Biscuits and Gravy, Lasagna, cookies, spaghetti, candy bars, thai food, chicken lo mein, or a nice big sandwich.

Now imagine that you can’t eat those things as they come, as they are served by every restaurant and every house in the nation. Wheat is in everything.  It binds things together that you would never think would have wheat in them.

Haley had a pack of SUCKERS. Caution: Contains Wheat. What the fuck for?

I’m a big eater, if you couldn’t tell by my stature… So the pure shock of thinking about not being able to stop at McDonalds and get a burger on the run. To not have a normal birthday cake. So hell yeah, I will go out of my way to try to help in any way I can. So to these ends, I attempted to make some ground chicken sausage balls for a snack.

Yeah, after grinding it up and realizing that chicken doesn’t have the consistency that pork or beef does, I changed mid-stroke and went with a chicken meatloaf. I don’t know if anyone has ever done this before, I’m sure it has. I’m not trying to blaze new paths in food, but I was pretty proud of the finished product. It was moist, but heavy. I needed a little more spices, salt mainly, because I wasn’t sure of the level of salt in the gluten-free cornbread mix that I used. I love cooking though, so I was happy.

By this time, the drinks were flowing and I was missing my girl pretty bad. When we wrapped dinner, poured some more drinks and gathered around the table to introduce Drew to Apples to Apples, I was feeling melancholy. I don’t like being away from Haley. I am madly in love with this woman. I feel empty when she’s not with me. But I was surrounded by people I love and who love me, so I couldn’t complain about the company. After the first round, my face was already hurting from laughing. Drew’s sick mind fit in well in our group and fun was had by all. When we finally called it a night and I retrieved a blanket for Drew to crash on the couch with, I went right to sleep.

I woke up at 10 and immediately got a text from Haley, like she could sense that I was part of the waking world again. It said simply “Good morning! Been up since 545, almost done with laundry. I have homemade waffles waiting for you whenever you get up. Love you!” What a wonderful good morning. I promptly made Drewcifer and myself a cup of coffee and took off to Haley’s. I got greeted with a hug, a kiss and a “I missed you” which fills me with so much joy it’s probably sickening to people that haven’t experienced it.

I haven’t had a good track-record with relationships. I’m not 30 yet (for a couple months) but I’ve already been married and divorced. I am a statistic. Regardless what you’ve seen in the news, Facebook was not to blame for my divorce. I rushed in. I ignored signs that I shouldn’t have. I made a mistake. But it hurt me. It burned me and made me bitter. I’ve swore that I will never marry again since then. I’m not saying that I’m ready for that right at this moment, but when I think about my future, I can’t think about Haley not being in it. I love this woman. She has opened my heart and my eyes. I now know what it’s like to have someone that you truly care about and can expect the same thing from in return. Is she my soulmate? I dunno if I believe in that mumbo-jumbo, but I’m saying this: I’ve let her go once and she came back. I’ll not make that mistake again. It’s 1 o’clock in the morning now.

I am not in bed yet, because I miss the thought of being able to put my arm around her and have her snuggle up to my chest. She’s my lobster.

Have a good rest of the weekend, everyone. I am off for MLK Day and I will spend it doing laundry, playing Batman and missing my girl.

Love.

That’s right, love. Love and myself haven’t always gotten along. Usually I rush in, more for the idea behind love than for the actual emotion. The idea of being in love and the benefits that come with it entice more than whores on the steps of a temple.

Formally my thoughts on love were simple and juvenile. Love meant having someone care about you. Love meant getting things from someone “just because”. It meant sex. It meant that you had someone to do things with, you were never alone. Love was a MySpace update.

What I have learned is that Love, true Love is none of that.

True love is knowing that your wife is sick and determining to make her life as easy and full as possible. True love is taking in and raising 3 kids and making them excel at school when they had no support from the birth mother. True love is changing your entire diet because you husband has a severe allergy to a VERY common food source.

Love is sacrifice.
Love is worshiping your partner.
Love is kissing like no one is watching.
Love is not monetary. It cannot be bought.

True love cannot be forced.

I am lucky that I have finally figured this out. I am also lucky to have fallen in love with a wonderful woman who loves me as purely as I love her.

I love you, Haley. Sorry it took me so long to figure out.

~Sco

So, I changed tactics. I went back to my original love, drawing. I hadn’t put pen-to-paper in a long time aside from tattoo ideas for other people. So I created some things that had been floating in my head for awhile. I also took up a new hobby. I self-taught myself to make chainmail jewelry. What tedious, mind numbing work. But I was proud of that first piece. It was nice to hold something tangible in my hands and think “I made this out of nothing.”

How creationist of me, eh?

The world needs more beauty in it. We are barraged, as a society, by images of war, violence, civil unrest and poverty. Daily I have to suffer through an ASPCA commercial showcasing beaten and neglected animals. The news never shows “feel good” stories anymore. No Zippy, the water skiing squirrel. No puppies or lolcats. No, instead I have to hear someone is being mistreated, another baby was killed by an enraged or deranged parent, the president/congress/state representatives aren’t doing their jobs.

I get it.

We live in a fucked up world. We are too concerned with shiny trinkets, celebrity marriages and what else gives you cancer. People have forgot how to enjoy life. A powerful phrase that I read years ago still sticks with me.

“Life isn’t forever”

That’s right people. You, I, our lived ones, our pets, even that asshole neighbor that let’s his dog shit in your yard are all going to die. Life DOESN’T last forever. There’s only one certainty in life. Death. One day its all over.

I’ll be 30 this year. If the Mayan Doomsayers are wrong, (they are) I will probably live for 40-45 more years. I’m not going to be a 90 year old man. It’s not in my genes. I am overweight, I smoke, I drink, I drive too fast and I don’t wear my seat belt. I’ll be lucky to hit 70. So almost half of my life is over. You know what I have learned recently? I haven’t began to live yet. My life has been relatively normal, but I have always held myself back. I’ve worried about money, I’ve worried about the future. You know that saying “can’t see the forest for the trees”?

That’s me in a nutshell.

So I am saying fuck new years resolutions. I’m making new life resolutions.

1.) Inspire myself and others. It’s too easy to be grumpy and plod along daily. I will take a moment every day and try to make myself or someone else better.

2.) Leave an impact on the world. Now I’m not saying I will discover the cure to a disease or solve a great mystery, but dammit when I die, someone will miss me on more than an emotional level.

3.) Love and be loved. I am blessed to have a beautiful woman in my life who makes me stupid happy. I am going to try my damnedness to keep her. I will strive to never take her for granted.

4.) Don’t sweat the small stuff. Simple enough. Live to the fullest. Don’t let shit drag me down.

So there you have it. Will I succeed every day? Fuck no, I’m only human, but I’m going to try really hard.

So throw all the bad news and 90s folk music-backed puppies you want at me, world. I’m going to weather your storm. I’m going to thrive. I will not let the next 30 years pass as meekly by.

As Wheezy would say, I’m gonna make life my bitch and put my hand up her skirt.

Love.

I didn’t stop writing. I just stopped writing here. If you feel like it, head over to www.bettergeekthannever.com. I’ve wrote tons. I’ve done podcasts. I was a machine. My brother from another mother, Professor X was kind enough to let me get my nerd rage on about movies, comics and much more. It has been some of the most fun I’ve had on the internet that didn’t involve boobs. Well, that’s not true, there are boobs on the site. They’re probably just covered by blood. SO, there’s that.

I remained single for the better part of last year. I didn’t feel like I wanted to spend time and energy trying to get to know more people. The ones that I do know weren’t interested in dating or letting me see them naked. This changed recently when I agreed to round two with an ex. But here’s the thing, before you cringe like I do when people scratch their forks on plates, she’s the best Ex ever. I am not even sure you can call her an ex. She and I began just hanging out. That progressed into more, but it was never really official. This is mostly due to my expression of disgust at all things “love” early into our relationship. I know, right? What a perfect thing to say to a woman who you are crazy about. Well, our schedules conflicted a lot and so we amicably split. I wasn’t in the mindset to progress myself as a person, let alone a relationship with another human. We are now together and happily, we’ve both admitted our love. She is my perfect match. She’s a smartass, like me, she’s independent, which I need. She’s smart, she’s beautiful, she gets me, she loves me for me and doesn’t express desires to change me in anyway. She’ll watch stuff that I wanna watch, she’ll listen to me nerd-out about the shitty Captain America movie. She watches wrestling with me. I love her. Immensely. I love her like I never thought I would love someone again. I miss her dearly when I’m not with her. So that’s definitely a good thing that happened in 2011.

The bad? Well, whilst trying to dodge some relatively nasty weather in our fluctuating climate of East Tennessee, I was taking shelter in my basement. Being the dutiful owner that I am, I carried Charlie Von Doom down the stairs with me and fell. I rolled my body, so not to crush my 12 pound dog and cried out as I heard my leg snap. I broke the fibula clean through and tore the main tendon that holds the fibula and tibia together at the bottom. Thus destroying my ankle and scattering it like Scrabble tiles after a drunken rage-quit. I could put no pressure on my leg for 10 weeks. I slept on my couch, leg propped up in an itchy fuckin cast. I watched Netflix. I am pretty sure that I googled everything that one could possibly google. I didn’t leave the house except to go to the doctor or for surgeries. My constant and loyal dog stayed with me, never batting an eye at the fact that I didn’t move all day. For over 2 months. But you know what? I needed it. I did a lot of thinking in those months. I reevaluated my life. I thought about what I needed to do to get to where I wanna be. I’m not saying that there have been drastic changes in my life because of this, but I know more about myself now. I know my goals. And so I guess technically that was a good thing.

This fall I began to work on my car again. I bought this car 7 years ago. I drove it for a couple months and then put it down due to a rear main seal being out. It was decided, while it was down to do a complete rebuild and turbo it. This is a first for my dad and myself. Then I got offered the chance to build a house. Then I met a girl that I thought I would love forever. Then we got married. Then we moved into our new house. Then we didn’t talk much. Then we separated and finally we divorced. Then I began to drink. A lot. At that point, the car was back-burnered. With all intentions of going back and finishing it. Well, today, it fired and ran at idle for the first time in nearly 7 years. I am ECSTATIC about this. Today, I decided that I don’t even want to make it flashy with the body kit that I have, instead, I’m going to make it a sleeper. You’ll never know what I have under the hood, but you’ll know my license plate number. Hopefully.

I am lucky enough to be in the position to offer some very, very dear friends the ability to stay with me while they evolve onto a path that is better for them. It has been almost 3 months and not once have I thought “Great, they’re home…” in my usual sarcastic tone. They make my house feel like a home. It’s lonely as fuck living by yourself. The ability to come home to an awesome home cooked meal, play games, have some drinks and cut up about shit on TV was very much needed in my life. I need these people around me. I need people that I can depend on and know that they love me as much as I love them. I am happy.

So that’s it. There was definitely some shit in 2011 that I would rather do without, but all in all I can’t complain about the year past. It brought me a woman that completes me, it brought me a mind free of clutter and darkness and it brought me a family, regardless of blood, that make me smile and happy. 2011 brought me happiness. I can’t hate it.

So what’s next? Who knows. Life can be bumpy sometimes, but I know that through my amazing family, my beautiful love and my smile-so-much-your-face-hurts friends, I can’t take it all on and come out with my head above water.

And my little dog too…

Love people. Love is very important to the body, mind and soul. I hope everyone that reads this gets to experience true love in the year I have dubbed the Twenty Dozen.

So why this trip down Image Blvd? Well I am a huge fan of Neil Gaiman, as both a comic writer and as a novel writer. My first introduction to Gaiman was my friend Dustin’s big brothers collection of Sandman comics. Sandman was a DC character and it stands to this day as one of the few DC/Vertigo titles that I adore. His books Good Omens, American Gods, and Anansi Boys are phenomenal. He was already an established name in the comics game back in 1993 when he was asked by Todd McFarlane to write an issue of Spawn. The issue (#9, and one of the highest valued of the first run) introduced Angela, a Hellspawn hunting, angel. Basically the opposite of Spawn. Medieval Spawn, the dark ages version of a the Hellspawn that shows that not all Hellspawn are “evil”, whom is destroyed by Angela, and Cogliostro, a mentor to Hellspawn, who turns out to be a former Hellspawn, and the original murderer Cain. These characters were agreed upon as 50/50  co-owned properties between the two men (the founding principle of Image, remember?), until McFarlane continued to use the characters as main players in the series, spin-offs, toys, movies, clothing, etc. The problem? Well now McFarlane says that these are solely his owned property as he hired Neil to do the work as a work-for-hire freelancer and therefore McFarlane owned everything that Gaiman had created for him. Todd McFarlane proved at that time, in my opinion, that he is a back-stabbing, money-grubbing, two-faced, asshole. The entire purpose of why he left Marvel was because they wouldn’t release rights to him for characters he created. SUPPORTING CHARACTERS (remember that), as he didn’t create Spider-Man, only drew one of the most memorable supporting characters ever, Eddie Brock / Venom. Now this is an entirely different debate as to the creator(s) of Venom, as the suit was just an adaption from Spider-Man’s symbiote suit. There are people going back 10 years before the creation of Venom that claim they have some part in the character. This contention was one of the main reasons McFarlane left Marvel, because even though Eddie Brock/Venom was wrote by David Michelinie and drawn by Todd McFarlane, the character was created as a work-for-hire project and is solely owned by Marvel (sound familiar?). So ultimately Gaiman had to sue McFarlane and Image to be paid for re-issues and revenue generated from the 3 created characters of the Spawn universe. Gaiman had to return to court over the characters Dark Ages Spawn, Domina, and Tiffany which were OBVIOUSLY rip-offs of the Medieval Spawn and Angela characters, an attempt to utilize the characters and still not pay the due monies to Neil. The characters are slightly re-drawn and include small cue changes like hair cut/color, etc.

So now this is to where we currently are. Erik Larsen, is utilizing a social network (Twitter) to spout off bullshit about how “Neil Gaiman could not have created Angela elsewhere. Her existence is dependent on Spawn and Todd McFarlane.” (via Twitter @ErikJLarsen) but the same can be said about Venom. With no Spider-Man, there would be no Venom. No Venom, no controversy. No controversy, no “Forging a new path” with Image’s principles. Ultimately Marvel made Todd McFarlane a recognizable name, he used that fame and the controversy revolving around the creation of these characters to headline Image (100% true statement, as Spawn outsold all of the other books combined) and then tried to screw Gaiman out of the rightly deserved claims. It’s not as if Gaiman attempted to use the created characters outside of the works they were shown in, but he still deserves to be paid. McFarlane has now went so far as to not include the #9 issue of Spawn, as well as the #10 issue containing the copyrighted character Cerebus, from the 1-12 reprint collection. McFarlane was also sued by hockey player Tony Twist after he used his likeness and name for a mob-based character. Seems McFarlane wants to make his own rules, but not play by anyone else’s.

The long-winded point I am making here is this. I looked up to Todd McFarlane, I used to doodle my spider webs just like he drew in the Spider-Man comics, I have 1-100 of Spawn including many off-shoots, I have many of the Spawn toys, I went and saw the Spawn movie TWICE, even though it sucked horribly, I bought the fuckin SOUNDTRACK and a T-Shirt, I snuck out to watch the cartoon on HBO, and I even picked up the return issue of McFarlane coming back to Spawn. Unfortunately, heroes that you think are diamonds can turn out to be made of glass. I looked up to this man, I didn’t even question him paying that ungodly amount of money for the purchases of (from Wikipedia) “Sosa’s 33rd, 61st and 66th home run balls, and McGwire’s first, 63rd, 67th, 68th, 69th and 70th. (McGwire’s 61st was the ball which tied Roger Maris‘ then-record, while McGwire’s 70th, bought by McFarlane at auction for US $3 million, set a new record at the time — broken in 2001 by Barry Bonds.) He later purchased Bonds’ record breaking 73rd home run ball for $450,000. ” He owns half of the Edmonton Oilers, he bought Green Monster Games with Kurt Schilling and changing it to 38 Studios, they are currently working on MMORPG games. All of this money flying around and he tries to SCREW another artist out of due payment for rights. It’s a fuckin shame.

I know this is kinda off topic for me, but I couldn’t help it, some of the shit being said on Twitter by some of the less savory characters involved (or believing themselves to be involved) in this ordeal really pisses me off. I am glad that the judicial system stood up for the very rights that McFarlane himself was so adamant about protecting.

If you have some money to donate to a worthwhile organization, please visit http://cbldf.org/ and help protect people who deserve to not have their art stolen, to be paid for work created, or not cited for obscenity by selling comics when anyone can purchase “Maxim” or the “Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition” and see real people in more obscene positions and states of undress.

If God/Jehovah/Yahweh/Allah/etc is all-powerful and all-knowing, why is there suffering in the world? Why would they make us be able to sin? The answer that I most commonly receive is “It’s all part of God’s plan.” What a bullshit cop-out answer that is. To me that says “I dunno the answer to that question, I myself have asked that and I have never gotten an answer either.” The idea that you are supposed to just take this idea that God is up there and he wants you to follow all of his rules but then turns his back on you when you need help is fuckin bullshit. If that is true, God is a selfish mother fucker. He has a “master plan” and knows where all of his little pawns go to make this plan happen? If the being is all powerful, why wouldn’t he just blink the bad parts out of existence? Why does he HAVE to play shit out to the end of the Bible? He knows he’s gonna win anyway, so why not save his “children” a fuck ton of suffering and make shit better NOW. Why should people have to suffer through Hell on Earth? I think it is sheer negligence. If a person had a child and then knowingly put the child in a situation where they have to “help themselves” or they suffer horrible pain. It’s like setting your child in a ring of fire and saying “I’ll get you out, but you have to thank me for it in advance and swear that you will be completely devoted to me and me alone.”  What a horrible idea. If you have the power to keep your creations from suffering, it’s your responsibility to make sure that they don’t. It is shitty to think that this being could end hunger, cancer, war, poverty, disease, death and pain but instead, he’s sits back and says “Let it play out, I can’t wait for the ending, it’s gonna be fuckin AWESOME!” And please don’t try the “You have to have Faith” argument, George Micheal, because faith itself doesn’t apply here. Christian faith is defined by dictionary.com as the trust in God and in His promises as made through Christ and the Scriptures by which humans are justified or saved. Yes you have faith in the process, but there is NOTHING in the scripture that assures that you won’t have pain, suffering, loss, or need. But because God promises this big payoff, you’re just supposed to fuckin GRIN AND BEAR IT! Why? Why is it this way? If you look at it from an outside perspective, say God is an 8-year-old. He has an ant farm. He is very proud of this ant farm, because he worked very hard to get it to look the way it does. It’s full of ants going about their normal lives, trying to get by, trying to live. Inside a smaller ant farm are 2 red ants. They are his chosen, he really likes them. He wants all of the ants to be just like them. They get everything that their tiny ant hearts ( I dunno if ants have hearts, bear with me) desire. All they have to do is not eat this one little piece of candy in a tucked away corner. When the inquisitive side gets too much, one of them (or both of them) eat the candy. So in turn, the kid says “You all are on your own, because those two red ones over there fucked it up, and so EVERYONE SUFFERS!” What a bad attitude. If we are to accept the Christian Mythology, then all pain and suffering (including child-birth) are the sole responsibility of two people who didn’t want God looking at their naughty bits. That sucks for the rest of us.

The other religions, mainstream or not, have the same basic principles. They are all recycled and shared betwixt each other. Almost all religions have the big three rules that they want their followers to keep (for the most part). Worship of the Divine. Be it God, Goddess, Pan, Mars, Allah, etc, every God wants worship. I don’t deny that if they are real they deserve it. If you are a real divine being and you are able to react change in the world with nary a thought, you deserve worship. But to demand the sacrifice of people’s children, money, virginity, body, life, or anything else is too much. At that point it is not worship. It is barter. The God is telling you that if you do something he will bless you, keep you, reward you, or spare you. All of the mythologies have scenarios of these acts or requests. The Bible has hundreds. The second of the big three is to not worship other Gods. Now this can be kinda tricky in some parts, some religions have two, three, or many multiple Deities, but they also all have stories of jealous Gods punishing followers or people due to some slight or misappropriation of faith. Ah, there’s that word again. In this instance we are looking at faith as the belief itself, not specifically the belief in one sect or idea. All the way back to the Roman and Greek Pantheon, the Gods were jealous of other Gods. That’s one the Christian God’s biggest no, no’s. Remember Charlton Heston throwing the stone tablets down because he left these assholes who had just witnessed miracles, alone for a couple of hours and they’re already dancing to idols. Tisk, Tisk. You know what else this proves? Gods are petty. If a divine being gets his feathers ruffled, he is gonna fuck your day up BAD. The last and to me the most important rule is: Be kind to others / The Golden Rule / The Wiccan Rede, etc, etc. Do what you want as long as you don’t hurt anyone. Treat someone like you would want to be treated. AKA, Don’t be a dick. Don’t do things to hurt people. Help people when you can. Make people’s day better, regardless of how shitty your’s has been. This rule I can get behind. I may not believe in any Gods, but I believe in the mental and emotional capacity of people to love, care, and treat people with respect. If I go through my entire life and I am a good person, I help people, I don’t make people suffer, I let people use me if they need me. If I do all of that and I still don’t go into whatever paradise is at the end, because I didn’t do the right action, say the right words, or hold my foot up long enough while I clucked like a chicken, then FUCK THAT PLACE. I don’t want any part of that.

Please know that I am not beating on anyone’s religion. I honestly wish that I could accept as readily as I did in the past. I want that feeling of “you are here for a reason” as opposed to “you are a genetic fuckin mistake”. Some fish shit in a puddle of water and over the actions of the next 80 Million Years, you evolved into a douchebag that drives 10 miles under the speed limit and listens to Limp Bizkit. I want to be special. I want a perfect body and a matching soul. I will settle for a mediocre existence punctuated by the random bits of real miracles, like a spring day in the mountains, a really great piece of music, or the first boob you grab. What can I say, hormones are still in the lead.

I love you all that read this. May whatever Gods/Goddesses/FSM/etc Bless you. If you don’t believe, but you are a good person and are generally not a dick, than I Bless you myself. I am off to bed. Who knows maybe Alan Rickman will appear in my room and take me out for tequila shots and question answering.

~Scofield~

My favorite thing about Rob “The Boyfriend Years” – Rob, was a huge football fan. He knew the entire roster of the New Orleans Saints. It blew my mind that he rooted for a team that he had no connection to. He is the reason I found it ok to root for Alabama in a house full of Tennessee fans. So because he was a Saints fan, I became a Saints fan. I got a roster pack of trading cards. When he showed up one day, I thought “Boy, Rob is gonna think this is cool!” So I pulled out the cards, said, “Hey Rob, check it out. I got these cards, it even has a Bobby Hebert card.” Now when I said this, I said it as HE-BURT, instead of with the appropriate “Nawlins” dialect of AI-BEAR. Rob began to laugh, and I swear it lasted for 30 minutes. From that point on, I was Bert. Like Reynolds or Lancaster. He never called me Mark, Markie, etc. It was always Bert. For those first couple of weeks it was Bert, followed by the tittering laugh.

Rob always battled his weight issue. It eventually got to the point that he was unable to drive and spent a lot of time in his house. I hadn’t stayed in constant contact with him, but we reconnected after I moved up to Pigeon Forge and began working at a hotel. I hung out with him a lot. I talked to him on the phone, he was my family away from family. I would spend entire days at his house, watching TV, messing with people on WebTV chat, smoking, and talking. We talked about all kinds of stuff. We were the “What If…” types of guys. “Dude, wouldn’t it be cool if…”

Rob got his first computer, a Dell. I introduced him to file sharing. We downloaded so much music that first week. We must have went through a 20 pack of CDs. He would laugh at the random movie quotes that I would put in between songs. That was mostly what the computer was used for. Downloading music, mostly old skool R&B, Rap, some Rock, new Hip Hop, and movie quotes. We’d sometimes go out in his SUV. A Chevy Suburban with a 454. He couldn’t drive, but I could. He’d sit in the passenger seat, we’d get it washed, then burn a tank of gas driving around, listening to music, visiting his friends, and such. That truck was a fuckin beast. It had so much power and he loved showing off to people. We’d sit in his house, smoke, bullshit, mess with his cats Druff (A white cat, as in Dandruff) and Sooty (A black cat, as in coal soot) and just be friends. He stopped just being my sister’s ex. He became my friend. He was there for me no matter what.

I went to a party on Ski Mountain. It was my 3 girl friend’s birthdays, all being celebrated together. The first night, my friend Sarah (where do I start) got very drunk. I literally had to watch over her, as there were less than savory guys that were attempting to use this to their advantage. I didn’t drink, just so someone had a level head. Well, technically Stace didn’t drink either, but that’s because she was like 7 months pregnant. The place got DESTROYED. There were fights, naked drunk girls passed out everywhere, the pool balls were thrown into the woods, the hot tub had no water left in it, but some yellowish fluids with shit floating in it. The next night was supposed to be chill, take it down a notch. Next thing you know, this girl who I loved for years and would do anything for is topless in a hot tub making out with a guy that she didn’t know, oblivious to the risk she was taking. I lost it. I couldn’t watch it. I left. It was 4 in the morning, raining, and I was in a Mini-Van. Needless to say I slid most of the way down Ski Mountain. I got into Gatlinburg and thought “Well shit, now what am I gonna do? I can’t go home, it’s too late/early.” (Dad’s rule) I called Rob. “Dude, can I come over, I have had a shitty night and I just need a space to crash for a couple of hours.” 10 mins later, we’re sitting in his living room, smokin a bit, so I would calm down. Rambling about how much I love her and how she couldn’t give a shit about it. How I will always be stuck in the “Friend Zone”. Rob told me, I’ll never forget it, that “Bert, you have to make her realize. You need to tell her. You can’t let that stay like it is, it’ll bother you forever.” He went back to bed and I curled up in his oversized leather recliner and went to sleep. The next day, I didn’t take his advice. Hell, I still haven’t taken his advice. Never did tell her. Too late now, we don’t speak. He was right, of course. As painful as the possibility of rejection is, I wish I would have taken that advice and just told her. For the record, it still does bother me.

When I needed $500 bucks to get an engine for a car, Rob had it. “No problem, Bert, come over after work.” He was a giver. He would do anything for me. I could have asked him for anything and if it was in his power, I have no doubt that he would have done it.

Rob got gastric bypass. He dropped weight like crazy. Unfortunately, he got an infection and on February 22, 2004 Rob passed away. I had moved jobs, and moved houses. I wasn’t in contact with him like I had been. I didn’t even know he was sick. I never got to say goodbye to him. It still bothers me. I have never grieved for him. I think it’s because I never got to tell him thank you for all that he did, so I’ve never wanted to accept it. The way he influenced my life, the great times we had. His sage like advice followed up with a “Shruh Shruh Shruh” and a flutter of the hand. His crazy fuckin neighbor, code-named ”3D or Da Da Dee” for the way that he would trail off and instead of saying “Etcetera” he’d say “Da Da Dee, Da Da Daa” The Burban. The LX Mustang (LX_Tasy). The Cordoba. The cats. His crazy family. His love of my sister. The fact that I don’t think we ever had an argument (outside of him bitchin at me for being mean to Tish when I was younger). I wish I could have had the chance to tell him that he was a great person. I am sorry that he had to go. I don’t know if I believe in any afterlife, but if there is one I hope I get to see him again…

Daniel Robert Ogle would have been 34 today. Happy Birthday, Robby. I miss you.

- Bert

SON OF A BITCH! That’s bullshit.

My first response to “The End” episode, the FINALE of a show that has taken quite a bit of time outta my life. I have watched from the first season. I stuck with it through a lot. Everyone else in my household dropped out. They couldn’t do it anymore. They couldn’t take the constant questions. I knew that it was just building toward a glorious end.

Yes, I strayed for a season. Season 5 actually. It was less to do with frustrations from the show and more with the fact that I just didn’t watch TV for a bit. I was coaxed back. For a last hoo-rah, I agreed. The final season. The answers to all of the questions that had been presented. The resolution to characters, conflicts, and questions. The FUCKING END. This would be the season to watch. This would be the chance to go back to all of those nay-sayers and scoff at their lack of faith. “You should have stayed, now you have to depend on DVD.”  So I read up on Season 5, watched the Season 6 kick-off show to get re-acquainted, and started with “LA X” the first episode of Season 6. The heroes are on the plane. They don’t crash, they make it! Hoooooray! Meanwhile, the Island is still happening. So you have The Island (Main Story) and you have The “Side Story” going on at the same time. In the Side Story, things are “normal” Jack still lost his father’s body, Locke lost his Knives, Hurley is not unlucky, Charlie almost died on the plane while trying to swallow a baggie of heroin, Kate is in custody, Sawyer is coming back from murdering the man that he believe responsible for his parents murder/suicide, Jin and Sun are not happy and Jin has a lot of money on him that gets confiscated, Sayid is going to find his girl (who turns out to be married to his brother), etc, etc.

I am not going to get into the details of the season, because honestly, if you are reading this, you probably watched it. If you didn’t watch it, you just like to read a man as he falls apart at the seams. So here’s what I am gonna do. I am going to list what I though was happening/was going to happen, and the actual resolution (if available).

The Sideline (aka Alt Reality, Bizarro World):

My Thoughts: This was the reward for resolving the conflict of the island (see below) This was the lives of people who were affected by the island going on as if they never crashed. This is what their lives would have been like. The lives of almost everyone at the beginning of this time were better. Hurley is happy and lucky, using his money to help people (as he likes to do). Jack has a son and is resolving being in his father’s shadow. Claire is going to decide to keep the baby, when she finds out that she has family to help her (Jack). Claire was going to prove herself innocent, as she has always maintained she is. Charlie would get clean and find rock and roll success in America. Locke would learn to walk again with Jack’s help and marry his fiance’. Sayid would resolve that Nadia was happier and maybe meet Shannon and have lil baby terrorists. Sawyer would eventually meet Juliet for coffee, and they would fall in love.

What really happened: The side line was a dream state, like the Matrix, where they all lived until they were ready to move on to the afterlife. That’s right, they’re all dead. ALL OF THEM. They are dead, living in a purgatory-like state that they SOMEHOW CREATED. The Side Line had absolutely nothing to do with the Island time line, it is all a bunch of dream-like bullshit. Yay. Thanks for getting me emotionally involved in a “happy” story only to RIP IT AWAY with thinly veiled Religious mumbo-jumbo.

The Island:

My Thoughts: The Island is an experiment in the inherent good/evil of people. You have a guiding figure for both sides. Jacob is the “good” guys. He is the benevolent, softly smiling, understanding patient “Deity/God/Angel/Spirit/Fairy/Dragon” that believe that good will win out over evil. He is there to keep MIB in check. MIB (Man In Black, no, not Johnny Cash) is the dark side. He’s the bad guy, he’s the Vader/Dr.Doom/Darksied of the equation. He’s the quick to anger, pissed off, scowling, rough-looking ”Deity/God/Demon/Spirit/Fairy/Dragon” he is there to prove that the hearts and souls of men are black as his finely knit shirt. The idea is that they bring a group of people on this island through whatever means possible (boat/plane crash/corporate outing/scouting trip) and pit them against the 2 ideas on the island. MIB is obviously the bad guy, because he is so quick to kill and he radiates fear. He wants your help to get off the island, but this goody-two-shoes Jacob doesn’t want him to leave, he doesn’t want to be proved wrong. No MIB isn’t bad, he’s just misunderstood. Jacob wants you to help keep MIB on the island. Even though doing so may cost you personal relationships, pain, anger, and more you know it’s the right thing to do (very Christ-Like). He wants you to basically be a martyr for the light side, MIB wants you to be an attack dog for the dark side. So where do your loyalties lie? Will you breeze through with plenty of food, companionship, and power but be willing to grape-smash babies heads? Will you suffer loss and pain to “do the right thing” regardless of what you may lose? At the end, one of your side wins, but it is revealed that the golden light is actually a room where all of the people who have “died” on the Island are kept in suspended animation. When the conflict is resolved, you are put on the plane/boat/scouting trip and you never go to the island. Your finish your life and that’s the end. Good job. Way to go. THAT’LL DO PIG!

What It Really Is: WHO KNOWS. That’s right, the one question that seems to be the most important. Why is the Island here, what’s it’s purpose? Well that’s open to your interpretation. What a fuckin COP OUT. To me that means “I’m not sure that we have an answer that won’t piss people off, so we’ll just let them all fill in the blanks. What assholes.

These aren’t all of my questions, but they are the 2 biggest ones. So in the end Jack kills MIB, who was made mortal by Desmond’s removal of the stone plug. Jack dies, Hurley takes over the job of “Island Protector.” Ben stays with Hurley, because he loves the Island so much. Kate, Sawyer, Claire, Enis the Ghost Whisperer, Lapidus, and newly mortal Richard all fly away in a very langolier fashion (crumbling runway, etc). No resolution. Nothing is shown as to what happens to them. We see that they all eventually die, as they meet in the “Church of All and Nothing”. Even Hurley, who by drinking the water, should have been immortal. Maybe this is 100 years down the road, and he names someone else and just jumps his large ass off of a cliff, maybe the one weakness for an immortal is diabetes… who knows? So there ya go, in the end, very few leave the island alive, and many questions remain unanswered, but they ALL GET TO GO TO HEAVEN!!!! YAY FOR JESUS!

Here’s just a run down of my “Unanswered Questions” off the top of my head:

What is the golden light in the cave? Is it the essence of good, hence why it kept the EVIL locked in?

Why doesn’t MIB have a name? Eons and this mother fucker never said, “Seriously, just call me Bob.”

Why is “Church of All and Nothing” Aaron (Claire’s kid, who we knew got to at least the age of 4) still a FUCKIN INFANT? Did this kid never do anything greater in his life. This is as important as he ever was?

Why did Jack imagine he had a son with Juliet? Why was he so easily accepting that he didn’t actually have a son after his flash? He just doesn’t care?

If MIB could only take on the shape of bodies of dead people, why didn’t he ever come back as any of the other dead characters, including JACOB? Wouldn’t that have been easiest? Jacob dies at Ben’s hand and so MIB takes on his shape and leads all of his little sheeple, like Jack, to the hole and tell them they needed to pull the stone plug out?

What was the purpose of Desmond being able to withstand the electro-magnetic flux (Whidmore’s reason for him being brought back)? What did he ever do that had anything to do with this?

Why does everyone left on the Island get resolution except for Desmond? He just wants to be with Penny, but no he gets stuck on the island. When the fuck is his turn, Brotha?

What’s the deal with the inability for fetuses to come to term? All women except for Sun had miscarriages. Why?

Why did Walt show up as a ghost? He was taller, but did this assume he died?

Why wasn’t Walt and Micheal, Ana Lucia, Danielle, Alex, etc at this elitist meeting in the church? In fact, why wasn’t Vincent? Because Disney taught us that ALL DOGS GO TO HEAVEN.

The purpose of this blog was just for me to get it out of my head. I am sure that some of you will agree with me. Based on the sheer amount of blind love that has been shown to this hunk of shit on other message boards, etc, I am sure someone will stumble across this and flame the fuck outta me. But guess what? With this ending of the show, I too end my obsession. I am done with all things Lost. I put it away. I am over it, and I don’t care anymore.

If you aren’t, just wait, it was released today that if you buy the Season 6 DVD/BluRay Super Awesome edition, it’s gonna have 20+ more minutes of “answers”. Well, I waited for their answers, I wasn’t satisfied. I have re-ran this script in my mind with my changes. I like mine better.

Good night, Losties.

One last time, please James… SON OF A BITCH!!!!