The Not So Curious Case of Cecil the Lion

Right off the bat I'm going to tell you the Lion King is not my favorite Disney movie. It was basically Hamlet with African animals, and it was also a blatant ripoff of the famed anime Kimba the White Lion. We all know the greatest Disney movie is Escape from New York, starring Kurt Russel, He plays the ex-special force commando Snake Plissken, and must infiltrate the city of New York which has now been turned into the largest maximum security prison on the planet.

Kurt Russel is my favorite Disney Princess

http://nicolehayley.deviantart.com/

I digress.

Anyhoo, people online have been up in arms over a dentist who gets his rocks off by killing large animals. Walter Palmer paid $50,000 big ones to off a lion. This kind of trophy hunting is actually pretty standard over there, and although deplorable in this instance, happens far more often than most people like to think.

I'll go through the details anyways. Dr. Palmer paid a bunch of money to shoot a lion. Cecil (the lion in question) is an older lion that lives in a National park in Zimbabwe. It's against the law to shoot a lion in a national park. Dentist McShooty and friends lure the lion OUT of the park to kill him, They use a bow, because it's quiet. They shoot him, Cecil decides he still has some fight left in his old bones, and doesn't die. Dentist Not-Very-Good-Shot takes a nap. They take up the chase much later, and finally kill Cecil. They cut off his head and skin him, leaving the rest. But Cecil still has some tricks up his sleeve, namely the GPS collar that was used to track him. The collar that was attached by the Oxford University. So Dentist Realizes-Somethings-Amiss tries to destroy the collar. No such luck. Gets caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Dentists really shouldn't be eating cookies anyways

As a result, he had to close up shop and disappear.

This is what the internet is telling me. The problem with the internet is that it is frequently full of shit. As for Dr. Palmer, I can guarantee that he'll be laying low for a while, open a new practice somewhere in Wisconsin where they don't give two shits about lions. As for Cecil, his legacy will live on through his cubs, which are now more than likely being killed by the next male lion, because that's the law of the jungle.

What bothers me about this isn't the killing of Cecil. Yes, if true, that shit is absolutely deplorable and Walter Palmer should be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. IF it's true. I'm not sure if it's true, at least the way the internet has put forth. I'm a little bit more worried about the rise of public shaming through the internet.

The problem with public shaming, online justice, or internet vigilantism, is that it's very much the equivalent of grabbing a pitchfork, some torches and joining a mob. There's another name for this. It's called lynching. Although these days it doesn't involve the closest tree and a noose, it's still feeding the shitty, unthinking, hyper-emotional parts of the brain that is unfortunately keeping our species much closer to our monkey ancestors than I'd care to admit.

Where Youtube comments come from

But let's be honest, you didn't come here for rationality. You came to hear me rant.

Fuck these hypocritical clowns who get outraged over shit like this. ISIS still is beheading and raping people in the middle east, we deal with corrupt bureaucracy all over the world, cancer has not been cured, and this is what you get pissy about? An oversized cat? Let's be frank. You don't give a shit about animals, you give a shit about cute, cuddly, photogenic animals. Put it this way, if you get outraged over shit like this, yet still buy meat from Superstore or Walmart or large chains, you honestly don't give two flying fucks about animals. You're just looking for an excuse to let out your inner monkey. And one day, some over-paid physiotherapist from Minnesota with too much time on their hands is going to bait a hot car with a poodle in it. When you decide to let out your inner monkey, Dr. Schmucko is going to be waiting with a cross-bow. Hopefully your ass is endangered and looks good on camera, because if not, no one is going to give a shit.

Sincerely,

The Illustrious Mr. Charlton

p.s. If predators were delicious, we'd be eating cats and dogs, and keeping cows as pets.

p.s.s. I always wanted a chicken, just because I'd name him 'Poulet'.

Fantasy Smantasy

The last really good book I read was 'The Handmaid's Tale' by Margaret Atwood. It was a horrifying book, but I could not put it down. I ended up reading the whole thing front to back in less than a day right as I was headed down to Victoria for Christmas. It was so good, in fact, that when I arrived to Victoria, I didn't talk to my brother or his wife until I was done the book.

My friend got me started on 'The Malazan Book of the Fallen' series, a ten book mega-novel that spans three continents (maybe more), more characters than I have appendages, and god knows how many wizards, assassins, thieves, ghosts, demons, gods, races, species and animals that have been made up.

It is ok.

It's cheesy. Shit, one of the character's name is 'WhiskeyJack'. The author came up with the name by looking at the bottle of Jack Daniels he was obviously drinking for breakfast. Or the classic 'throw in a bunch of apostrophes' names such as 'Dhul'Lik'Ko'Meh', as if I'm going to announce that every time this asshole walks into a room.

The Fantasy Writer's Axe of Creativity.

I like books. I like to read. I think everyone does if they're given the right books. Not to long before I started this Malazan series, the very same friend gave me a book called 'Bolo!' (yes, there was in fact an exclamation at the end of the title). That book was about sentient tanks in the future. It was cheesy as sin and not exactly well written. But I ate it up! I couldn't put the stupid book down. What I noticed between the cheesy sci-fi novel and the cheesy fantasy novel has been one reoccurring theme between the two genres. Sci-fi novels are most often pretty tongue and cheek, and the sci-fi that doesn't tends to be grounded in a fair amount of reality. Fantasy almost always takes itself too seriously, and well....

Look dude, or dudette, or in-between, whatever, if you're going to have fucking orcs and dragons and flying beetles the size of volkswagens in your stories, I'm gonna have a hard time taking anything else seriously. Ooooooo, a large battle between warring nations is looming on the horizon? Better hop on your flying cat-snake and find the amulet of 'Who'gives'a'shit', 'cause apparently a magic talisman is the only thing that will win the war. Somehow the winged ferret made the social overtones of your story harder to take seriously.

Need a fantasy creature? Just add wings!

Fantasy is not a serious subject that some people take way too seriously. I'm not a fan of the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series, also known to people who only watch TV as 'Game of Thrones'. The show is alright. I tried to read the first novel in the book series years ago and I couldn't even get half way through. How many goddamn things have to 'glisten', George RR Martin? Everything in your universe glistens. That whole goddamn world is breathing heavily and sweating, It's like your fatass decided to take the stairs for once. An entire, way-too-long, pulsating, heaving series.

And that's my biggest gripe with the whole fantasy genre. Everything is a series, this mega-novel garbage. I hear this bullshit all the time, "The first book or two, he's just warming up and finding his voice. It gets REALLY good after that". Really? I have to read over a thousand pages of mediocre crap to get to the good part? That is the very definition of a shit sandwich. If I have to chow down on poop just so I can get to the really good part of the sandwich, why the fuck don't I just go and buy a sandwich that isn't half poop?

No poop on my clubhouse, thank you

I'm going to throw a little advice to writers out there regarding the mega-novel. If you are going to create a world full of characters, you can't spend the first novel giving out exposition. You're not going to be able to build that world in a book, Exposition is boring as all hell, and I'll be damned if I'll crunch through seven hundred pages of ass-flavored explanation. Also, it couldn't hurt to write a goddamn outline. A beginning, middle and an end. Don't sit here and wax the 'I'm surprised and shocked by where my characters lead me' schtick. If your characters surprise you, then you don't know your characters well enough. You know who got surprised by their characters? The writers of Lost. Look how that turned out.

The only series I've read that I thought was really well done was the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. I've only read one book of the MaddAddam series by Margaret Atwood, and I hear the rest is as good as the first book, Oryx and Crake. I've also got a mind to read the Discworld books by Terry Pratchett, the few I've read are hilarious. If someone thinks that they can recommend me a book series, I'll sit down and read it. Keep in mind though, I'm a notorious asshole, so much so that French people have been put off regarding my criticism.

I'm not against fantasy, nor am I against the mega-novel. I've yet to read a fantasy book besides Terry Pratchett's stuff that didn't have it's head up it's ass, though (I'm looking at you, Terry Goodkind). I've yet to read a mega-novel that wasn't boring as fuck for the first novel or two and a goddamn mess of loose ends by the seventh or eighth book. BUT, if you have some suggestions, send 'em my way. I can burn through a book pretty quickly.

Every piece of media these days is a series, whether it's books, movies, television, or video games. I think all of it could benefit from the 'True Detective' model, the acclaimed television series. If you're going to have a brand, there is nothing wrong with a self-contained story that takes up a single season. I thought that entire production was phenomenally done. I think the mega-novels could learn from that. But hey, if you want to write a dozen novels or have nine movies that all carry the same characters and converge on the same plot, be my guest. Keep and mind that trying to weave a pattern with hundreds of strings is difficult even if you have an idea of the tapestry your creating. If you don't have an idea, don't be surprise if your blanket looks like trash.

TL;DR: If you're writing a series of novels, have a goddamn point. They call it 'theming'. And don't take yourself so goddamn seriously. Also, The Lord of the Ring series was racist.

Middle Earth was a great neighborhood before these guys moved in.

Sincerely,

The Illustrious Mr. Charlton

p.s. Seriously though, I'll read anything. Send some ideas this way.

p.s.s. And writers, stay the fuck away from adverbs. No one 'closes the door firmly'.

p.s.s.s. You see any black elves or hobbits or wizards in LOTR? I didn't.

Avengers 2: An Irrelevant Review

So I went and saw the new Avengers movie, Avengers 2: Age of Ultron. Now, I'm about to give my opinion about this film, as well as the Marvel Franchise as a whole. If you're the kind of person who gives a shit about spoilers, then I'd go read something else.

Spoiler; Avengers 2: Age of Ultron sucks.

Two and a half hours reduced to one picture

I liked the first Avenger movie, I thought it was entertaining. It was fun to see a whole bunch of superheroes on the screen. To say it was some sort of masterpiece would be a stretch, but it was a good movie, at least I thought. It was a stand alone movie; if you hadn't seen the other Marvel movies like Iron Man or Captain America, you could still follow along and have it make sense. For the most part.

Unfortunately, it taken the 'comic book' part of the comic book movie to heart. And I'm hear to tell you that comic books are stupid.

Star Wars comics are twice as stupid

This isn't an opinion, it's a fact. It's the same reason why Star Wars is stupid. The same reason I really don't have an interest in watching the fifth season of Game of Thrones. It's a trend that has been rising in the last decade especially. It's the mega-novel problem.

Right now we're clamoring for huge worlds, bigger stories, more characters. We're not satisfied with a stand alone movie, a novel that has no sequel, or anything that isn't a franchise. Comic books have had this problems for decades. Numerous reboots with dozens of different writers have created this bizarre world of multiple universes. This is fine for comics, because firstly, they're idiotic and secondly, they're designed this way because you need a new story every month. That's the format. You're expected to read the entire story arc. A single comic by itself rarely makes any sense whatsoever.

That's where the Avengers 2 fails. If you haven't seen Iron Man, Thor, Captain America: The First Avenger, The Hulk (the 2008 version, not the 2003 version), Iron Man 2, Thor 2:The Dark World, Iron Man 3, Captain America 2: The Winter Soldier, well, then the Avengers 2 isn't going to make any sense. If you've missed any of these films, then the chemistry between the characters isn't always going to make sense. Shucks, you might not even recognize some of the characters (who the fuck is War Machine?).

I'm a firm believer that in order for a film to succeed as a movie, it needs to be able to stand on it's own. I shouldn't have to sit and watch fifteen hours of back story in order to grasp what's happening in a film. I can't really blame the screenwriting either. How the hell do you juggle ten different characters? Television can kind of get away with this, Game of Thrones does alright with multiple characters, but even that is starting to get pretty thin. It also has the luxury of the new television format. Ten folks in a two and a half hour span is starting to stretch the limits of a narrative.

Avengers 2 was the exact same movie as the first. The stakes weren't raised (they have to save the world, again!), the plot was the same (team gets together, falls apart, gets together again), and the action was the same (Crazy epic superhero battles!). Aside from the slightly clever little arc with Hawkeye and the lame love story between the Hulk and Black Widow that took up 3% of screen time between the action porn, it was the same movie.

I'll be honest, I was bored to tears through most of it, waiting for it to be over. The whole Marvel franchise was sort of refreshing at first, but has gotten stale. It's the cinematic version of Olive Garden. It loved it when I was a teen, but as I got older I realized it's the same lousy Italian food every time I go. I don't go to Olive Garden anymore, and I doubt I'll go watch another Marvel film.

But hey, Marvel is putting out the new 'Ant-Man' movie this summer. I'm sure that'll be great, right?

Sincerely,

The Illustrious Mr. Charlton

p.s. Seriously, Ant-Man? I wonder if it'll be two hours of Stan Lee scraping the barrel.

p.s.s. I really only wrote this review because I'm going to shit all over the rise of the mega novels in the next post. Fuck George RR Martin.

The Dad Bod Craze

Jesus Fuck. I can't believe I'm writing about this. The fact I have to explain some things to grown adults is startling, I'd like everyone to put on some boots and some rubber gloves, 'cause we're about to go wading in some shit.

A month and a half ago, a young woman by the name Mackenzie Pearson wrote an article titled "Why Girls Love the Dad Bod". It was a harmless little article that, summed up, stated that Mackenzie was attracted to guys who weren't in top physical condition. She wasn't into dudes who use words like 'shredded' or 'severe body-dysmorphia' to describe themselves. Cool, whatever. Personally, I've resigned to the idea that I like being skinny and limber, but, you know, whatever. Unfortunately, the internet decided to build a brick house by collectively shitting one out.

The Internet's Poop House (1)

Numerous articles starting popping up, either praising the new movement as a godsend, or denouncing it as some sort of Jihad against gym rats. When I say blow up, this article exploded into articles, podcasts and was talked about on air, covered by major news channels such as CNN and FOX. Here, I did a search for you.

Now, I've got a bit of news for you, dad bod dudes. Even though it's hard to believe, women around the world who read this article didn't lobotomize themselves into finding this sexy. It's tough to fathom, but there's no switch on the backside of women that has an 'on/off' switch for dudes rocking a gut. That's not how it works. Our friend Mackenzie was stating a preference that's pretty well known in the world of people who have the slightest shred of perception on human sexuality. People have a preference that varies among person to person. Some women dig the dad bod! Some women love guys with washboard abs and veiny arms. It was like that before the article and it will continue to be like that well after the article is forgotten about.

I'm not surprised that a bunch of lazy guys got up to pat themselves on the back after this article was released. I'm a little more surprised at the fitness side of the line, though. The amount of whining that came from that camp was deafening. It seems that every motivational image that shouted 'I get in shape for ME!' of 'The only thing I'm trying to be better than is myself from YESTERDAY!' was the load of bullshit most of us thought it out to be. Most fit dudes aren't doing it for themselves, and have now gotten themselves into a frothy mess now that they've realised that not every woman on the planet wants to have sex with them.

I WORKED SO HARD

Look, meat heads. I get it, you're upset. You've worked really hard, and have now realized that not everybody wants to bang a human version of a Lamborghini. Welcome back to reality. Dad bods, kudos to you. You've now been presented with information confirming that, even though you don't look like Brad Pitt, someone may actually find you attractive. Crazy, I know. Just keep in mind that the number one cause of premature deaths to males is heart disease. You may want to put down the pizza and take the goddamn stairs every once and a while.

So yay, we can now celebrate all sorts of different body shapes. For men. Sorry ladies, we'd still like you to maintain the figure of an eighteen year old stripper. This body acceptance thing is a boys only club, 'cause the only thing that accessorizes a double chin is a double standard.

Sincerely,

The Illustrious Mr. Charlton

p.s. Just so everyone is aware, my calves look like granite wrapped in silk. Don't skip leg day.

p.s.s. Leg day? What I actually meant is that my calves are big because I walk around the house on the balls of my feet like a ninja.

p.s.s.s. Probably more like a ballerina, to be honest.

p.s.s.s.s. The prettiest ballerina, I might add.

(1) - Brick building by Henry Mühlpfordt

Why the NDP was a Bad Choice

If you would have told me a month ago that the NDP in Alberta would be holding a solid majority, I would have politely told you 'When Hell Freezes Over'. Well, it's been snowing in Edmonton today, so close enough. It looks like Sata....I mean Jim Prentice, will have to find new digs, as from the looks of his speech last night I'm certain he's about to go pout somewhere down in Phoenix, Arizona.

I kid.

Right now all of my friends who worked hard campaigning for the NDP are nursing well deserved hangovers, my journalist friends are busy typing away at twitter and getting the message out, my teacher friends are happy they might actually get the funding they need to make sure the next generation doesn't grow up to be absolute fuckheads, and finally my conservative friends who work in the oil and gas industry are currently making that noise that a dog makes when you spray it in the face with a water hose.

WHARRGARBL

The PCs have been in power forty four years here in Alberta. Like all parties who hold the throne for that long, they got complacent, lazy, and arrogant. Our coffers are dry. The PCs sucked resources away from education, health care, and social programs in exchange for tax cuts for incredibly wealthy corporations. Alberta is an oil province, for sure, and that isn't going to change in the next four years, I can guarantee you that. But the idea that foreign companies get a pass while the citizens of the province have to carry the tax burden is something that obviously wasn't sitting well for the people who went out and cast their votes yesterday.

The big observation I want to make is that the NDP earned this one, if only for the fact they seemed to be the only ones who were campaigning. All my conservative friends, well, didn't. It proves something radical is happening in Alberta, and that's the triumph of a grass roots movement. It happened when Naheed Nenshi got voted in as Mayor of Calgary, It happened to Don Iverson when he got voted in as Mayor of Edmonton. Last night it happened again with the NDP with Rachel Notley at the helm. As a citizen of a democratic society, you are involved in politics whether you want to be or not. If you want change, get out on the streets and make change. Voting is the absolute bare minimum.

Or, you know, put up some signs or something

As for my opinion, I'm cautiously optimistic. They're rookies, for sure, but change can be a good thing, and I'm the kind of guy who gets excited when the pot is stirred. A good friend of mine once said "Not knowing the future is cool" and I have to agree. I'm not sure what the next four years will hold for Alberta, but one thing is certain. It has proven that the little people can make a difference.

Sincerely,

The Illustrious Mr. Charlton

p.s. The Title? Total Clickbait. But hey, you clicked, didn't you?

May the Fourth be With You

Today is May fourth, and that's an incredibly special day for most people. It's international Firefighters day, so we should should all be glad there's a section of the population crazy enough to run into buildings that happen to be on fire. I keep arguing that maybe we shouldn't be building our structures out of wood and paper mache, but I digress.... Hold on a moment, that's not what you're celebrating today, is it? So what exactly are you celebrating?

News flash, people. Star Wars sucks.

Search your feelings

I don't use the word sucks very often anymore. I prefer to use lame, or shitty, or a host of other words to describe something I'm not particularly fond of. In this case, sucks works perfectly, because that's the sound of the gaping vacuum that this abomination of a cultural phenomenon has created. Star Wars is a slurping, ugly, hot mess of a franchise.

Now, given, the first three films released a few decades ago are pretty good. The special effects were mind blowing at the time, they had an interesting new story and have held up pretty well since then. The acting is lousy, but I'm pretty sure everyone in the late seventies/early eighties was so high on cocaine that they had to be reminded that still they teeth in their mouths. But those three films are just a slice into the Star Wars universe, and most of that Universe is absolutely ridiculous.

Referred to on-set as the Force

There aren't just movies about Star Wars. There are books, games, toys, costumes, dinner ware, spin-offs, bed sheets, action figures (which are NOT toys, apparently), Iphone apps, party themes, wedding themes, and a Christmas special that George Lucas would like you to pretend never actually existed in the first place. That is a sliver of the amount of stuff that Star Wars has licensed. It is not a universe of space fantasy, so much as it's a cash cow that lactates golden milk.

I thought people would have learned after the Phantom Menace, but they kept making movies, and games, and books. People kept buying them. And my Darth Lord, there is a new Star Wars movie coming out, and I can hear people frothing at the mouth already. Sit down for a second. I hate to break it to you, but this new movie will never live up to anyone's expectations. It can't. The fan base has become so rabid we actually have a day of the year now dedicated to it. All across the world, people are calling in sick, so that they can sit down and watch all six films back to back, spending their mornings trying to fast forward to the good parts of the prequels.

Please don't make me fast forward through 80% of the movie, JJ

The worst lot is the Star Wars books. Ever read one? Don't. Do you want to know how many people have authored Star Wars books in the last three and a half decades? Seventy Five. That isn't novelisation at that point anymore. That is slash fan-fiction at it's best. I would complain, but truthfully the longest peace of fiction ever written isn't War and Peace, but a slash fan-fiction piece about Super Smash Brothers that contains over 3,500,000 words. That would be slash fan-fiction at it's best.

It still doesn't compare to my Pokemon Fan-Fiction

What it boils down to is this; I don't like Star Wars because when it started it was a space adventure that was shot on a budget of eleven million dollars. George Lucas was once a rebellious young film maker who took chances and now he's the head of a vast empire of knock-offs, merchandise and what borders on a lifestyle brand. George Lucas was seduced by the dark side.

Darth Schlock

 If you find yourself getting worked up over this, then heed your own words. There is no passion, only serenity. Jedi code mother bitches.

Sincerely,

The Illustrious Mr. Charlton

p,s. Help us JJ Abrams, you're our only hope.

p.s.s. Star Trek is for real nerds.

p.s.s.s. Not that Action balderdash with the JJ Abrams (although the casting was pretty fantastic)

p.s.s.s.s. Actually, with JJ Abrams, the only thing I can hope for is to walk away from the theatres not blinded by lens flares.

Floyd vs. Manny

Last night, Floyd 'Money' Mayweather Jr. faced Manny 'The Pac-Man' Pacquiao in one of the most anticipated fights of the last two decades, and the former won by unanimous decision at the end of the night. Some would say that the fight came too late, as both fighters were past their prime, but it didn't matter to fight fans, as the fight was billed at a half billion dollars, which Floyd pocketed roughly two hundred million.

I'm not here to talk about who won or who lost, who was the better boxer. I heard speculation that Manny had torn his rotator cuff before the fight and that's why he wasn't coming in as strong as some would have liked. I don't know shit about boxing, and the little I do know comes from a friend of mine who's a huge boxing fanatic. What I do know is that Floyd Mayweather Jr. is an abusive piece of shit and is known to use his fast hands to batter women. So why aren't more people talking about it?

Except for this guy.

Wait, also this person.

And this person.

Damnit, you guys are making me look bad.

Okay, okay, okay, plenty of people know that while he wins most of his fights by decision, he has no problem K.Oing his loved one at home. That Floyd kicks the crap out of women is well known and documented. The big argument here is why are we condoning his actions so he can continue to box in the ring. The answer is incredibly simple, and it also happens to be Floyd's monicker.

Money.

Money Money Money!

A half billion dollars is what the fight cost, not what the fight generated, and no one in the boxing world does anything for free. Between HBO, the MGM Grand, the casinos, the hotels, the restaurants, the airlines, everyone is going to get a little slice of that boxing pie. If you're wondering why Floyd has been charged numerous times for instances of violence against women, and so far has only had do spend sixty days in jail because of it, well, there's your answer. Money talks. But is money the real driving force here?

Let's roll back the tape to February 2014, when Ray Rice was caught on tape knocking his then fiancee out in an elevator, then dragging her back to his room. Jail time? None. Hell, they got married not too long later.

But shucks folks, let's go all the way back to 2007, and bring in Micheal Vick. Now, Micheal has done some shady deals in the past, but battering women didn't seem to pop up. Drug use, theft and the notorious dog fighting scandal came up, but nothing about battering women. I'm not sure if you remember 2007 all that well, but people were pissed, I mean really pissed that Micheal was breeding dogs to fight. People were calling for his head. People on my feed who aren't even interested in sports were up in arms.

A Pack of Blood Thirsty Wiener Dogs (1)

When you compare how people reacted to Floyd and Ray, with a 'That's guy is a piece of shit, why does anyone watch their sports anyways' compared to Micheal's 'That guy fought dogs? INNOCENT PUPPIES BLARGRGRAGR!!!!!!! CUT OFF HIS HEAD!!!!!'
\
Spousal abuse doesn't just happen in sports. It happens everywhere. Some abusers are engineers, or lawyers, or doctors. There's plenty of spousal abuse in the entertainment industry. Even women have been known to abuse men in relationships as well. Violence is shitty any which way you cut it, and I'd say that sports and entertainment get a bad rap simply because they're in the spotlight. I'm almost certain that if you were to compare the statistics of sposal abuse between regular jobs and vanity jobs like football players and thespians, you'd find that they're on even ground.

I'm not condoning the actions of Micheal Vick here, what he did was atrocious. It did open up my eyes about how we view the abuse of women. They may be mothers, they may daughters, hell, women might actually be people who walk the planet with hopes, desires, and dreams like the rest of us 'cough'. And we might continue to turn a blind eye towards the abuse of women, in favor of entertainment, money, and the ability to sleep a little bit better at night.

But if you ever fuck with man's best friend, we will cut your sack off and feed it to the goddamn sharks.

Sincerely,

The Illustrious Mr. Charlton

p.s. I had a dog once. It was delicious.

(1) - "Dachshund-puppies" by Alex Khimich - Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons - http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Dachshund-puppies.jpg#/media/File:Dachshund-puppies.jpg

Baltimore - I'm Not Racist, But....

Baltimore. Located in Maryland, It's the twenty-sixth largest city in the United States. It's home to the Oriels and the Ravens. The Wire, one of the most acclaimed television series ever to grace the tubes takes place there. Both the famous singer Billie Holiday and the baseball legend Babe Ruth hail from Baltimore. And unless you've been under a rock or on the moon for the last few weeks, you would know that the city is in chaos over the death of Freddie Grey, a man of twenty five who died of spinal cord injuries while in police custody.

I'll break down what happened, but we're not going to spend a lot of time on it. Freddie made eye contact with police officer, then proceeded to flee. The officers took chase, pinned him down and processed him for carrying a switchblade. They threw him in the back of a van. When Freddie told the officers he had sustained injuries, they ignored his pleas. You can read about the whole thing here. They found out his switchblade was actually a folding knife, which is not illegal. As for running from the police, the supreme court has determined this action is not a crime a while ago. Technically, Freddie Grey was illegally detained.

Now, you didn't come to Mr. Charlton to hear the facts. No, you came here for an opinion and I'm going to give you one. There is a race problem and it's mostly white people.

Ouch.

Now, it doesn't have to do so much with the pigment of white people. If white people were neon green, then we'd have a neon green people problem. You could argue history has documented numerous accounts of white people committing atrocities against other white people, and you would be right. You could also argue that history has documented numerous accounts of not-white people committing atrocities against other not-white people, and you would also be right. Again, it doesn't have as much to do with pigment as people would have us believe.

It has more to do with what I like to call 'White-Washing'. The term white-washing is an old one, and it meant other ethnicities were encouraged to act white, to be more palatable to a broader audience. I like to use the term differently, in which history is down played or forgotten to make the history more palatable to white people. It stems from what I hear all the time from white people. “Well, all of that is in the past, why can't we just get along now?”

This is how I was raised when I was younger. I remember learning in school that racism is bad, and we should be nice to everyone, no matter what their skin colour was. People used to mistreat others based on their ethnicity, and that was bad. I moved to the big city, big ol' small town heart, and I then I learned that I was actually pretty racist. Coming to that conclusion was an eye opener, and actually made me more racist in the process.

All of the shit white people did, I never really learned about. The enslavement of black people in America, the genocide of aboriginals in Canada, residential schools, forced sterilization. Christ, it used to be illegal for black and white people to get married. This all fell under 'mistreatment'. Long story short, the cruel history of murder, rape and enslavement was a very long story made short.

Again, this kinda shit has been happening for almost as long as human beings have been humans. The issue today is, again, what I term White-Washing. We've made it look as this part of our past and history isn't that big of deal, or we pretend it never happened at all. The truth is, it has shaped the current state of how we view the deaths of young black Americans in the United States. We don't get upset or pay attention when one of these people die in the hands of law enforcement, we get upset when they start to riot because of that death. That's when the cameras turn to those impoverished communities. Maybe that's a large part of the reason of why people riot in the first place. If you can't get attention with a peaceful protest or by pursuing legal action, then maybe the only way left is the violent approach.

I'm not condoning the riots. What I am going to say is this sort of thing is going to continue to happen unless we start having a frank and honest discussion about race, and what that means to everyone. As white people, we might have to start being more honest about our own history. I think that kind of discussion is already taking place, due to the large leaps in technology in both photography and distribution. It won't happen over night, but even in the midst of all the chaos, I'm starting to see a light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe I'll live long enough to step into it.

I don't know what it's like to be black. But if you want to know what it's like to be white, I call tell you that aside from the homicidal urges and the compulsive need to devour human flesh at the end of the month, it's pretty damn sweet.

Sincerely,

The Illustrious Mr. Charlton

p.s. The human flesh eating. You guys all get that too, right?

p.s.s. Seriously, I'm in Golden right now and the selection of of human meat is pretty weak.

Touring my Bathing Suit Area

I used to grab my cock when I was a child. I mean, I really used to hold on to my penis at all times, as if it were some sort of lifeline and it was the only thing keeping me tethered to the planet. There's pictures of me, and there I am, holding my dong. You'll see videos of me, my father asking aloud, “Mr. Charlton, why are you holding on to your penis?” and I would shrug, and wander off with my pecker in hand.

This is something I did for years, to the point where my penis actually curves to the left now a little bit. I'm not sure if this is a direct result of having been holding onto the thing as much as I did, but I can be assured that it certainly didn't help. So yeah, I was the dick holding kid. It stopped for the most part when I got old enough; where it was no longer cute but seen as incredibly inappropriate. I can't remember the exact time in my childhood, but there was a very definitive line from where my father would gently ask why I was holding my johnson, to where he would angrily shout at me to relinquish my dick grip. But it still sprouted up from time to time.

Mostly it was when I was playing video games. I has a tendency to be a bit of a hog when it came to taking turns and playing fairly with my brothers or whichever of our friends happened to be over at the time. This was even more apparent when I had to use the wash room, as I would use the bottom half of my hand, the ring and pinky fingers, to grab my pecker as the other half of the hand, the far more dexterous part of my hand, to hold the controller and continue playing, leading me to hold in my urine for an extended period of time.  I believe it's this act alone is why, at the age of twenty-six, I had to see a number of doctors, even one urologist, to ascertain why at such a young age I was pissing like an old man.

I remember first going to the doctor's to see about my problem. This was a private clinic, not far away from where I was working at the time. My first doctor was an incredibly attractive Vietnamese woman who was in her early thirties. She took a few samples of urine and blood, then let me out. I came back a few weeks later. Tests came out negative, no STDs or irregularities. Now the good doctor was going to give me a prostate exam. I was dressed smartly, I always was for work. Here I am, suit and tie, pants around my ankles while this cute Vietnamese doctor with knee high leather boots and smelling of lilacs is sticking her index finger up my asshole and checking my prostate. I remember, when she was done, turning around and, after a few exchanged words regarding the health of my inside cock, I looked at her and said “Nice boots, by the way”. I remember her looking at me, her face saying 'Did you just flirt with me after I had my finger up your ass?' and I shot her a look back with 'Yes, yes I did just flirt with you after you had your finger up my ass'. I did not get her number.

There were more tests, a visit to an ultrasound clinic, a few more prostate checkups. I was lucky that, for whatever reason, the doctors performing the exams were always attractive women. My idea of a prostate exam may be skewed as I haven't had an unpleasant one. Finally, they sent me to a urologist at Rocky View hospital in Calgary. My father took me there, as he was in town at the time. To lend support, I guess. I was nervous, because I was informed that the procedure would be to take a camera and stuff it up my urethra, a procedure called a cystoscopy. Not a particularly fun procedure. We waited in the dick surgery department, I being the youngest person in the room; my father being the second.

My name came up, and I was led to a room. After waiting no more than thirty seconds, a nurse came in. In the most clinical way possible, she told me to take off my pants and underwear, lay down on the table, and that she would be administering a numbing cream on the tip of my penis. There was no flirting here, this woman meant business. I did as I was told. I stripped, laid down, and she unceremoniously put the cream on, as if she were lubing up break pads in a car. I had to admire her professionalism to turn what most would find to be an embarrassing situation into a grease job at a garage.

The doctor came in. He was a nice man who very quickly explained the procedure. He would be cramming a tube like apparatus up my no-no area, he would look around and make a diagnosis depending on what he saw. There was a large television in front of both of us and he slid the camera into my body. As we took a stroll into my bathing suit area, he narrated the adventure as if he were a tour guide and I was a tourist. I was almost hoping to find a kiosk outside the room, where I would be able to get a photo in a cardboard frame, with the caption 'My First Cystoscopy'. Perhaps a hat with a slogan that read 'Dick Adventurer' would suffice.

The procedure finished, and to my dismay, everything checked out fine. There was no reason for my pain or my difficulty urinating, it may just have been a small start to the eventual and complete breakdown of my body. I grabbed my father and we began to leave the hospital. Just before the exit, I had a sudden urge to pee. This made sense, as the cystoscopy procedure pumped the bladder full of saline solution. I opened the door to the boys room, found a suitable urinal and proceeded to take one of the greatest pees in my life. It was glorious.

Now, the doctor mentioned that he's be pumping fluid into my bladder. What he didn't mention is that there would be some air in there as well. So as I'm whizzing away, blissfully re-leaving myself, the air started coming out of my cock. I'm now farting out of my dick, my penis whipping around like an elephant's truck as the bathroom fills with the sounds of dong farts. THPPPIIIIPPPPPPP, THPPIIIIPPIPIPPPP, rang out my knob as I howled with laughter as my dink spun around violently. It had to be one of the funniest things I had ever seen.

A man came in and I've tried so hard to picture what he saw. There's this young man, laughing to with point of tears as he stares at his penis, while the audible farting is coming from the front of the body and not the back. I remember hearing him coming in and I stopped, looked over my shoulder, then loudly proclaimed “Don't worry buddy, I'm just dweefing.”

And that was when I, like many storytellers before me, had been presented the opportunity to create a new word. Dweefing; the act of farting out of your dick.

Sincerely,

The Illustrious Mr. Charlton

p.s. The wiener works great now, I couldn't tell you what was wrong with it. Maybe it was the stress of being an awesome penis.

Back by Popular Demand

Well fuck.

So, how long has it been since I've written anything down on this here blogtown? A year? Two years? We'll say it's been a while. I've had the pleasure of talking to some of you, and I guess that four, maybe five of you are excited as shit to see me type words onto the internet again. For the rest of you, well, there's always pornography. Mr. Charlton isn't going to blame a person for wanting to touch themselves instead of reading what I have to say. As far as why I quit the blog, there's a few reasons.

1. I had a career.

Also.

    2. My damn job was to sit in front of a computer all day.

There were some good things about this, and some bad (mostly bad), but long story short, being a at computer all day, then coming home to a computer and writing well into the evening was looking less and less appealing to this handsome man. As well, a lot of companies want your online personality to shine. I'm not saying I don't shine like a diamond. I do. But the idea that I was now representing the company on my free time made writing about dolphin cocks a little harder than usual. I found a fantastic solution though. I quit my job.

Yes, yes, yes, you've heard this all before. This wouldn't be the first time Mr. Charlton took a good long at his life and politely said...

“Fuck this shit.”

I've a had a lot of people ask me what I'm going to be doing. I've been telling them plenty of things.

1. I'm going to travel to South East Asia and become a wandering monk.
2. I'm going to go back to school to teach myself computer science.
3. I'm going to finally sit down and finish writing that damn book.
4. I'm going to train an elk to be my stead because that's the closest thing to a Unicorn I might ever get to ride.

Anyone telling me they wouldn't ride a horse with a fucking spear on it's head into battle is a liar

So here's the deal. I'm going to flat out say I've got an idea of what I want to do. But I'm keeping that a secret. Some of y'all know what I'll be doing for certain. Most of you don't. Mr. Charlton likes mystery, so it's going to stay that way for a while. Feel free to drop me a line if you really need to know. I'm going to remind you that mystery is way sexier than honesty, and I'd love for you fine people to stay sexy as all sin. But when I say some of you know what the scoop is, right now it's two people. And one of them is Mom.

I'm going to keep this short, 'cause this is more of a re-introduction than a full on post. If you're wondering where I am, I'm hanging out in Golden for a bit. Getting my bearings, getting rid of some shit (If you need a fondue set, I have a KILLER little number that is perfect for re-creating 1970's parties. Quaaludes not included). 

How long are you going to be there? For a while, but not for too long. Vagueness is sexified mystery.

Where am I going? Honestly, that's a little irrelevant to me at this point. I ain't too worried about the actual location.

What am I doing? Goddamnit people, stay sexy for me. Keep the mystery alive!

Why am I doing this? I've been in the consulting game for a decade people. I've been a desk jockey for ten damn years. I've got no kids, no mortgage, no career and nothing but time. If I'm going to do something crazy, this might be the last ticket I can punch.

Who are you? Well.... hold on a sec. Is the next question going to be How something question again?

Uhhhh..... Listen, captain twenty questions, let's lay down some ground rules.

1. I don't know when I'm going to update this shit.

If this were business, then yeah, I'd be saying shit like 'New content every Monday and Thursday!' But I forfeited my internet dollars the second I started swearing on the blog. It's through Google, and if you read the fine print, they like to keep things kid friendly. I'm about as kid friendly as rat poison. I've got no fuckin' idea when I'm going to update shit. All four to five of you are going to have to wait until inspiration strikes.

2. I don't know what I'm going to write about.

I was aiming for some sort of theme the last go-around with this blog, and that ain't happening. Will pretty much be off the cuff. There was some good topics last time, there were some bad topics last time. I'm not going to be putting junk up here just to meet an invisible quota for myself. Let's shoot for good stuff.

3. I do not edit this shit all that much.

I wrote a short story two days ago, one that I'm really proud of. I had a couple of people look at it and rip it to shreds. Did a re-write, and now I'm really, really proud of it. I'm going to have one or two more people take a peek, tweak it, and I'm hoping it will be blooming after that. Good writing takes editing, it takes fresh eyes, it takes feedback. With this junk, I might take one good look at it, do a re-write, then ship it, warts and all. This isn't my Sistine Chapel. This is my ledger where I doodle.

With that last bit I said, fuck people, feel free to criticize a guy. How the hell is a guy supposed to improve if nobody is telling me it's shit?

Look, if you know me, you know that I have an ego that borders on being a problem. When I masturbate, I look in the mirror and think of me. If some of you think that you'll hurt my feelings, just remember this; my last girlfriend called my a soulless, emotionless robot, and part of me took it as a compliment. 

 Maybe one day my programming will allow for love.

Anyways, I'll be in touch. I've had a few adventures, a number of stories, and a couple of yarns to spin. It'll be sooner than later. Until then, you fine, sexy, not-going-to-ask-a-lot-of-questions people, this gentleman is signing off.

Sincerely,

The Illustrious Mr. Charlton

p.s. Mad apologies to Dr. Hottie for being a robot. Keep kicking cancer's ass.

p.s.s. I get it. Sexified is not a word. I'm still using it, damnit.