Deadheads

Everyone, usually, has a gripe of their own. People everyday are annoyed by things they dislike, such as war, drugs or terrible tasting food. My gripe is materialism, along with people that become so obsessed with pleasing themselves that they lose track of what's right. Along with this dislike, I also hate it when teachers don't do their jobs and when adults mislead their young-ones. I equally detest though, when people see these things occuring and do nothing to prevent them.
This brings me to my point, which is going through a detailed analysis of a song I wrote and recorded for a school project. I personally love going online and researching the origins of songs and find out what inspired them. So due to the obscure nature of my song I'll try to explain what I was thinking when I wrote it. (it was originally a love song, haha). While I did write out a solid draft of lyrics for my song, much of it ended up being inextricably changed during the recording process. Below I will write the lyrics to my song, then below that I will re-write them with a detailed explanation of each verse.
To give a general idea of what the song is about, it is about my highschool experience, what I like, and what I don't.

Yesterday I woke
To find that I was broke
I realized I'd smoked my life

(this verse primarily serves as the start of the song by talking about the start of the day. Here I was trying to convey the feeling of waking up and realizing that you have nothing of substance because you've been wasting time with whatever holds your fancy, and haven't been focusing on proper things. For example, people (and everyone at my school) that live for the moment, smoking pot and other fleshly activities wake up to this feeling, along with anyone that isn't really blessed.

And now I'm kickin' back
onna correct track
i'm sick of being mucky and rife

(this verse is about kicking addiction of whatever it is you're addicted to in search of something better)

Well hello there little miss maybe
Are you back to scare us and your baby?
What's the matter? Get up and live.
Is it really that hard to forgive?

(Here I was speaking of individuals that are too obsessed with knowing what other people think, which prevents them for making any independent decisions. It then proceeds to ask the question of "why the heck don't you get up and clean up your act?!")

Come On, get up
out of our zones
what's the worst that can happen?
we're all sick filthy drones

(here I prompt getting up out of your own little world and doing something with anything. So often I see people just zoning out to their ipod, merely looking forward to their next chance to get high, drunk or laid. I think the image of something ignoring others and listening to their ipod is probably the most vivid depiction of a modern day prison that can illustrate. Everyone is too willing to do what they want and not bother with real life. The "what's the worst that can happen" line is one of my life slogans. Whenever I say that, I partially mean that a risk is worth taking, and I also partially try to show the immaturity in doing taking such risks in recognizing that it's risky.)

I heard you heard I heard
that I killed a bird
you beat me
but doll, that's a lie

(this is directed towards the flagarant and false accusations that have buzzed around my school and life. You should always know the truth before you can deal out judgement.)

There's a rumor floatin' through
that I love you
I'd be lyin' if I said that's a lie

(I thought this was cute. I think It conveys the sense of boppy happieness that I like to express.)

You Shouldn't Be Sad
Silly Thing
Such a Shame
Londons Burning

(this verse has a double meaning. This is a depiction of my efforts to cheer people up, while also granting some sympathy to the matter at hand. Also, all the lyrics here are built out of songs by my favorite and most influential bands.

You Shouldin't Be Sad by the Kinks
Silly Thing by the Sex Pistols
Such a Shame by the Kinks
and London's Burning by the Clash)

at this point in the song all the lyrics where just things I was rambling with and don't really mean anything specific.

Things Teachers Should Know
(this was the headline of a poster in a class where I took the WASL. On it was written a list of things "teachers should know" in order to be good teachers. there was however NO WHERE written on the poster anything about actually caring about your students and their education, which I think is the biggest thing a teacher should know and do, otherwise you simply can't teach).

How's that for harmless?!
(this is sort of the endling line of the song. After reviewing what the life of someone that only cares about themselves is like, then hopefully you'll see that it is NOT a harmless lifestyle. "How's that for harmless" was also written as the ending "umph" punch-line on a "don't smoke marijuana while driving" poster in the same WASL classroom I was in. This line was at the end of the poster after listing a list of facts about driving accidents that occured while people were pepped up on pot. The poster simply seemed to me to be a personification of every single poster like it that i've seen. It was rash, brash and unconvincing, and the way it was presented I sadly doubt it will help anyone.)

I just wanna go
why'd they disarm us?
(I adlibbed this. who knows what it means. if I had to make a guess as too what it meant it's talking about leaving school because they don't help (i'm not talking about all school, just certain school's who's teachers don't give a flying flip about their students) and the second line is about taking student's (or just the younger generation's) guts away by leaving them with nothing but ipods to zone out to.)

The last raint thing I say in the "song" is "deadheads" which is what I think too many are turning into.

The OXFORD Tales

I have just finished writing the OXFORD tales which consist of six tragic interlinked stories about the following fictional and fantasy characters.

O xford
X eni
F andy
O ntany
R affagan
D elina

I started writing the first section on the character Oxford as a writing excersise I like to do every year or so, the main goal being to write some clever and odd. After writing the story of a seemingly awful psychopathic murderous dwarf though, I figure I might write more on his world so that I could try to justify his actions. The story is fantasy, but as I look at it this story could be applied to any era or world. I initially wrote it as a fantasy world with dwarfs and gnomes as a joke. It is not often we find creatures like those in my story placed in the positions of those in the OXFORD stories, which I found amusing. I really just ran with the idea of making my first random story about a psycho-killer dwarf work and make sense when looked at with all the pieces together. I did not plan the story when I started it, I just ran with what I thought was funny at the moment, and I guess what was funny at the time I was writing was a cuddly killer dwarf. I'm a little shocked at how horrifically morose the entire story is as a whole, but I'd like some feedback on this crazy adventure.

OH! and I haven't tried reading the story out of order, as it's already out of order, but I ask that you read the stories from first to last. Come to think of it, I haven't really read my story at all, so forgive things that suck ayye?

Live, Delina, Live: The End

Once Upon A Time…

… There lived a sorrowful lady dwarf name Delina. She used to be proud in that she had a husband and wonderful son, however she now mourned that she merely had a son and husband, for they had left her. Her husband was a good man, but he had divorced her so that he might feel better about pursuing more fleshly desires. She still loved her son, but he had become a morose and quiet dwarf who was not very active when it came to doing the right thing. Delina always knew that if the time came for him to bring justice and truth into the world, he would certainly do so. However, whether that time would come or not she would never know.
She kept herself busy by doing productive things such as helping the local Sheriff and Deputy with legal business or simply aiding the townsfolk. She loved her town, it was quiet and no one questioned anyone’s business, which seemed to keep things nice and safe. She also had an intense passion for gardening, which she cultivated twice a week by taking lessons from a local gnome.
As she woke from a horrid dream about a land where everyone cut all social contact and focused on their own desires by turning off their thought processes through music, girls and booze, she realized it was time for her to meet her with friend the gnome for a gardening lesson. As she arrived to his cherished little house, she was shocked to see her ex-husband’s name written on the head of the door. Had the gnome done the unthinkable and sold his house? She hurried inside to find out.
As she stepped in the door someone jumped on top of her. Startled and shocked she yelled, but it was only the gnome. He stared at her and smiled as he look nervously around, for what purpose she did not know. Then after a moment he thrust himself upon her. His hands were unwavering as they searched her, clawing like a beast in a gnomes body. Dear Delina knew not what had come over the gnome, he had always been a good gnome, more gentle then a butterfly. No matter what he had been though, Delina was more concerned with what he currently was, which definitely wasn’t what he was prior this wretched happening. Delina rushed out of the house sobbing. Had the world conspired against her? Would she never gain peace? Her final outlet had dried out.
Delina rushed to her sons house, informing him of what had happened. He was infuriated, and while he tried to comfort her, he seemed too busy gathering tinder boxes to pay much attention to her cries. Instead, he told her to go to the local sheriff’s department and inform the sheriff and deputy of what had happened. She cried goodbye to her son as she obeyed and departed.
Poor Delina’s sorrows were multiplied beyond her imagination that day. She felt as though she had entered a hellish nightmare when she entered to the sheriff’s station to see him cutting away at her lost lover. Before she knew what had happened, she found herself kneeling next to two bodies, one that belonged to the sheriff and the other to her ex-husband. She figured she must have had a hand in the death of the sheriff though she could not recall it. She was too occupied with crying over the corpse of her dear lost husband. She could have sworn the words “I love you” to be written on his lips, screaming to escape, but they did not. He was dead.
The sheriffs brother and deputy then crashed into the room, wild with grief at the sight of his dead brother. He hurriedly tied Delina to a chair, but not until she had written a letter to her son. It seemed to her that he did not mind what the letter said, he was out of his mind and had no sense of right or wrong. She did not have much time to write, so she simply said “To my dear son Oxford, Dad and Mom are home. Please thank the deputy for me.”
Delina was focusing to deeply on her broken heart to notice the arrow that pierced it moments after she had been fastened to the chair. She knew no regrets as her eyes went dark. She was back home.

Satisfy, Raffagan, Satisfy: Raffagan the Evil

Once upon a time…

… there lived a craft and sneaky Sheriff named Raffagan Aggle. Raffagan had originally been a good man that upheld the law properly, which is why the townsfolk loved him. It was a sad day when he ventured into the lands of greed, lust and hate. And while he had become an, essentially, evil goblin, he retained face in front of the people of the town and his dear brother, which is why they still saw him as a just man. Raffagan’s brother was slower then most folk, but he was well meaning and loved Raffagan very much. Raffagan took this to his advantage and used his brothers faulty trust as a means to get what he wanted more easily, and at the moment what he wanted was land, and it just so happened he knew the land he wanted.
There lived a young gnome down the road from his station that lived in a very beautiful house. Many said that his family had handed it down to him and that the gnomes who had lived in the house prior to him always treated the house with the utmost respect and love. The love that had been poured into the creation and upkeep of the house seemed to resonate from it, shining out and sending happiness into all that saw it. Raffagan needed that house, and having the trust of the people he did what he wanted, and what he wanted was to put the house of for sale, which is what he did.
His plan was to sell the house, to non other then himself. The logic behind this plan is not very sturdy, but when you’re the law of the land, especially Raffagan’s land, logic doesn’t matter. The corrupt Raffagan spent the day rolling In his money, engaging in sinful acts which were not spoken of at the time, and explored the perversity of his desires. Later in the evening when he was walking by the property which was soon to be his, he saw something that made his oil boil. A sign that read “Xeni’s House, Fandy’s Business” stood above the door of the house. If this was the case, Sheriff Raffagan knew he could not escape without gaining suspicion from the town, as it was common knowledge that no business, whatever the circumstance, may be un-businessed or de-buildinged.
Enraged at this news, Raffagan called upon Fandy Xeni, and requested that they come to his station as soon as was physically possible. It was an urgent matter. Being a law-abiding citizen, Fandy arrived on the hour. Raffagan was dismayed to find that Xeni had failed to show up. No matter, Fandy was the only one that that he really needed dispersed in order for his wishes to be fully fulfilled.
As Raffagan thrust his wishes and desires into Fandy’s chest, repeatedly, he thought for a moment that this search to satisfy his own wants might not be the most productive ambition. However, it seems that as he cut away at Fandy’s body the same knife cut away at Raffagan’s soul, removing any sense of morality, virtue or compassion. Fandy hit the floor. Raffagan had finished his work.
Raffagan was startled to hear a yelp behind him. He turned to see someone he had not seen before, but it was obvious she had seen him. Before she had time to leave Raffagan locked the door, he could not allow her to escape. She yelled and begged as Raffagan stabbed and slashed at the air around her with his words, eyes and blade. It was clear he would soon be cleaning up two victims in his office. Right as was about to deal the fatal plunge however, he felt his leg go stiff. Fandy was holding him with both his arms wrapped around his leg. The table was then tilted as his victim-soon-to-be snatched the blade from his hands and used it to seal his mouth closed by opening his throat.
As Raffagan gasped for words of hate and rage, nothing came. Nothing except hollow ghosts of words escaped his gawking head as it hit the floor with a definite thump.

Misperceive, Ontany, Misperceive: Ontany

Once upon a time…

… Ontany Aggle was strolling the streets with his brother. They were happy goblins, and loved by many in the town where they resided. Ontany took pride in his work and in the work of his brother, for had it not been for them the town would be un utter chaos and tragedy. All this Ontany knew to be true, for his brother had always been a good man, and would never change into the men he removed from society.
One day after he had assisted his friend with some emotional problems, his brother with some legal problems, and the fire department with some fire problems, he decided he would saunter back to work and see if his brother needed any more help, or more appropriately, he left to see if the town needed help. Nothing could be better in Ontanty’s life, he had it all. Respect, love, and a kind brother, he saw all things as he wanted.
Like anyone that ignores the truth though, Ontany would be forced to face up to reality eventually. This meeting between Ontany and the acceptance of truth was to occur when he arrived at the police station to see a two bodies sprawled on the floor, one of which used to contain the soul of his brother, and next to the other body lay a lady dwarf crying and holding the lifeless shell that used to be, as Ontany knew it, her old husband.
Ontany rushed to his brother, yelling his name, Ontany begged his dead brother to respond. He did not. Ontanty mourned, how could anyone have killed his brother? For that is what must have happened, the blood on his brothers badge and cloths were signs that this was no natural death. Then he saw the knife. A long and shiny knife, covered in blood, laying next to the crying dwarf. He looked at her sharply, and he demanded to know what had happened. She told him that a gnome had forced himself upon her earlier, and that she had come to Ontany’s brother for assistance. When she got to him though, she was shocked to see him forcing a knife into her ex-husband, obviously against his will. Ontany could not except this, he took every word the sad dwarf said to be a lie. His brother could never do the things she said. He told her to stop and tell the truth, to admit why she killed his brother, but she kept crying and speaking. The lady dwarf told Ontany that when she saw his brother killing her old husband she yelled, and that after Ontany’s brother had become aware of her presence, he attacked her as well. She said that she managed to obtain the knife and return the favor he had so willingly given her husband. This concluded her story, and Ontany was done listening. He asked her if there was anything she wanted to do before he bestowed upon her what she bestowed upon Ontatny’s brother, and Ontany’s brother to her husband. She asked to write a message. He let her use and old scrap of paper to write a short letter which she attached to one of the many messenger birds that roamed the land.
After the letter had been completed and sent off to her son, Ontany tied the dwarf to a chair. She begged and cried as he applied an arrow to his bow. Ontany was a good goblin, loved by all, he upheld the law and he was always right. He saw everything as he wanted to, and it was good. Even after he had let a shaft loose from the bow and into the dwarf he was confident in his judgment. Anyone that murdered, or was involved with a murder, deserved to die for this was the law he upheld in the town. Now it as time for him to visit the son of the lady dwarf he had just rightfully slain and see what part he had to play in the demise of his dear brother.

Die, Fandy, Die: Fandy Peddleguire

Once upon a time…

… there died a dwarf who was legally addressed as Fandy Peddlguire. He was a loving dwarf, who had two fierce loves, that of his wife and that of his business. The same love could sadly, not be referenced when referring to his son, who had become morose and lost after his parents divorced. This divorce however, was something Fandy recognized as a mistake, and he was willing to give his life to gain his life back. However, he needed a means of doing so, which is why the approach and charity of his son’s friend seemed to be a God-given gift. Had he known the true price he would have to pay for helping his helper though, he might not have acted in a similar tradition. For this price, was his life. Fandy knew this to be true the moment a long and shiny knife searched him in places no one had been, or ever would be, again.
As Fandy dropped to his knees, several thoughts rushed through his thinking. Why was this happening? What had he done? He knew not why this was happening. He knew it must have something to do with his new friend, but as for the specifics of the reasons he knew not. Fandy did however, know the answer to the final question. He had helped someone that needed protection from someone more powerful then himself, and he had divorced his wife, and he had lost his son. The last thoughts that pierced through Fandy sharper then the knife who was doing the same were not those for himself, but those of this lost wife and son that he yearned for. As his blood rushed through his body and onto the floor Fandy realized that the worst thing that can happen is not losing your life, but losing your love, whatever that may be. His eyes were going grey, but he was forced out of his daze by tears which were hitting his face. His dear, beloved, lost, love, was kneeling over him, crying. This was the end for sad Fandy.

Cry, Xeni, Cry: Xeni the Gnome

Once upon a time…

… a humble and well-meaning gnome name Xeni dwelt in a house that his grandfather had erected for his father, who made it his life’s work to maintain for his son. Xeni, recognizing the sacrifices his forefathers made, committed his life to protecting his house, keeping it tidy until he one day had a family. However, there lived a sneaky person that was greatly interested in taking advantage of others, and when he saw the price that land such as Xeni’s could yield, he quickly put Xeni’s house up for purchase, without even thinking to inform darling Xeni of his actions. Now, in most world’s, selling someone else’s house would not be a permissible act, but the sneaky person that did the doing had authority which was backed by law, and this law stated he was in charge.
Helpless against the sneaky person’s crafty ways and position in the law, Xeni consulted his friend about on the issue. His friend however, scared to fight the law, directed Xeni to a small business ran by Fandy Peddleguire.
After Xeni had unloaded his tale into Fandy’s mind for input, Fandy agreed to help the helpless Xeni. Before he could give any aid to Xeni though, Sandy said that he first had to try re-communicate his affection towards a past wife whom he wrongfully divorced. As it turned out, Fandy required help in arranging a meeting with his former wife, and Xeni was just the gnome to do it as he was Sandy’s Wife’s gardening counselor, and he met with her twice a week to discuss plants and the such.
Convinced that Xeni’s plan would work, Fandy agreed to assist him on the spot, and informed Xeni that if he allowed him to run his business from inside Xeni’s house the sneaky person’s shenanigans to go on any longer, for in this land, businesses may not be un-erected.
The next day Xeni was walking to his house so that he could awaite the arrival of dear Fandy’s wife, which would allow him to so that his plan could be put into action, and his plan was this. As soon as Fandy’s wife made herself present for gardening lessons, Fandy would get slightly fresher with her then his plants, which would be the signal for Fandy to reveal himself and “save” his wife from Xeni’s Columbus like hands.
When Fandy’s short-lost love had finally made herself present, Xeni began to act. However, after a few moments of his unwanted fondles, Fandy did not arrive, and so Xeni figured that he must have not been rough enough, for maybe Fandy thought this was how he always behaved and that it was nothing out of the normal. It was this thought process that lead to Xeni being more aggressive then initially planned. After several moments of improper handling with Fandy’s wife, she bolted out the door in tears leaving Xeni standing alone, and ashamed. Fandy was no where to be found.
That night Xeni had horrible dreams of the after-life that might await those who behaved such as he had earlier that day. It was not a jolly dream, and instead of the usual flowers and dandy memories that often graced his wandering and sleeping mind, he was plagued with images of death, rape, eternal damnation and fire. He then awoke screaming to see that all of his possessions had been lit aflame, and not only his possessions, but his dear house that had been handed down to him was also basking in fires from Hades. Was this God? Was he finally dealing out Xeni’s punishment, to burn the only thing he had cared for? Maybe instead of striking Xeni down on the spot of his foul actions he decided to wait until the night and hit him where it hurt most.
Xeni Rushed outside to find help, to get some means of putting the fierce flames to rest. When Xeni made it outside, he immediately saw that his losses were worse. His garden had been ripped to shreds and his tools lay everywhere, broken and shattered against the shredded ground and uprooted roots of his beloved life. He then saw a man standing before him, eyes lit red by the foul flame that plagued Xeni’s life. Here was the man that had ruined him. The mere sight of the mortal that had done this to Xeni filled him with undying rage, and Xeni could do nothing but charge his oppressor. He saw the stranger stoop down and pick something off the ground, it must have been one of his tools. Actually, Xeni was positive this was one of his tools, for this was very easy for him to decipher up close after his gardening shovel his penetrated his impish arm and sent searing pain through his soul, which was not long for his short body. After repeated strikes from the unknown figure, Xeni’s mind went blank, and he knew no more.

Kill, Oxford, Kill: An Introduction

Below is a story I wrote. I wrote this story on my birthday. Considering the content and complete oddness of the tale however, I would not like this story to be associated with my birthday, or thought of as my birthday story. I set out writing this with no goals in mind. The ending reflects cliched endings that think they have something to say, but as we all (hope) we know, they don't.


Once upon a time…

… there existed a snub and passive dwarf who was addressed by the name Oxford, however he was originally christened as Pappy Peddleguire. Oxford was around 3 feet in height and 2 feet in width. He had two petite but burly arms that both served as his primary means of causing discomfort on others. This was made especially clear when he uprooted the life from a local gnome with a gardening shovel. He did not take the time to pile the pieces before he left.
One day, after Oxford had been busily busying businesses with certain fires which he gleefully took credit for, the friendly neighborhood deputy came to discuss whether or not our dwarf had been involved in the untimely demise of the sheriff. However, upon arrival the deputy was surprise to be greeted by the blunt, yet ever so penetrating smack of a pickaxe to his face. Had he been living longer then that moment he no doubt would have taken this as an offensive greeting from dear Oxford, but as is not the case no such thought crossed his mind after the pickaxe did.
At this point in the tale I am going to assume that readers are scratching their heads in bewilderment as to why Oxford is the character he is, and it would not be surprising to be equally interested in why the author chose to fashion a character as such. The answer is one of finite simplicity, and that is this. There is no purpose, there is no reason. The only thing that exists in this life is Oxford, and you are him. ZOMG!

Doomsday

(note: forgive the spelling errors)

Whoever concieved this piece deserves some recognition for at least making something entirely wierd. It seems as if the director (whome I later discovered also directed the horror fiasco "The Descent") wanted to make a zombie movie, a medeval movie, a punk/mad max style movie and a cannable movie but only had enough money to make one film so he simply combined all the different genres into one. The trailer boasts that "nothing you've ever seen" will amount to the greatness of this movie, and that it is entirely new and original. On the contarary, literally EVERY aspect of this movie steals from another movie. If you simply took these movies

28 days later
the mad max trilogy
escape from new york
underworld
with just a dash of robin hood

you could essentially re-edit them all together to creat this movie. I am one hundered percent serious.
I went to this picture expecting a really bad but entertaining movie that stole elements from many of my favorite films, primarily Mad Max. I was partially pleased, but still let down. Even though flesh-eating punk-like cannabils graced the screen, the majority of the movie was so awful that it made the scenes I wanted to like fairly hard to view. I'm just thankful that the movie was as bad as it was, for if it had been better it would have been even worse to watch.

DC's Best by the Best

I have decided I am going to conduct an operation that's prime objective is this: Create an "album" composed entirely out of my favorite songs by my favorite bands and then issue those cds out to my friends. I will not include favorite songs in general, just two or three songs by my favorites bands, past and present. Those bands being...

The Zombies
The Clash
The Pixies
The Fratellis
Vampire Weekend
The Kinks
The Who
Queen
The White Stripes
Ok Go
Velvet Underground

(the list is in perfect order from favorite to least)

I'm pretty excited about this. It'll be my birthday gift to my self to everyone. I'm also thinking of including a little sheet explaining the songs and the artists place, I'm not going to try to persuade anyone into liking what I do, but hopefully people will see something like they in what I love.

South Park: Season 12

The 12th season of the (brilliant) television show South Park began last week with an episode dealing with HIV and cancer. I have not seen the most recent episode, but after reading an artical on it I decided that I'd post the artical here for anyone that sadly might have missed the show. I could not agree more with this episode, and the ending is one of the kind that is almost too horrifying to be real, the sad thing being it isn't.

"How I Met Your Mother may be Britney Spears TV guest spot of choice this month, but it's not her only one.

The life and times of the beleaguered pop star got even more cartoonish Wednesday night, when Spears was given the full-on South Park treatment, with her animated alter ego suffering through a botched suicide attempt and, ultimately, death-by-camera-flash.

More thought-provoking than hilarity-inducing (though featuring a fair amount of yuks), the episode not only skewered Spears as the Comedy Central show had done with Tom Cruise and Marilyn Manson before, but also targeted the relentless media attention on the Blackout star and the indifference to her plight of her many hangers-on.

The episode, dubbed "Britney's New Look," available to watch in its entirety on FunnyOrDie.com, begins with a "Britney Watch" breaking news update interrupting a Democratic presidential primary debate: Spears, camping near South Park, has been caught on camera peeing on a ladybug.

After learning of the hefty payday that results from such an embarrassing amateur snap, Cartman, Kyle, Stan and Kenny pass themselves off as Spears' sons and a squirrel, respectively, and sneak into the singer's local hotel room, where she is desolate over her newly-perceived hatred of the red and black bugs.

Still passing themselves off as her Federtots, the boys enter her room and, after Spears learns she's been tricked and her beloved boys are not there after all, she sticks a rifle in her mouth and pulls the trigger, blowing off more than a majority of her head and leaving the foursome in stunned silence.

Quick to spot an opportunity for reinvention, Spears' manager, after learning that the singer survived the gunshot wound with little more than a chin and a garbled, incoherent way of speaking, fast tracks the star back into the recording studio and on to the stage at the MTV Music Awards, where her suicide attempt is ignored, but where she is roundly criticized for being "chubby," "lip-synching"—despite having no lips—and for her "crazy, radical, no-top-of-head look."

To give her some semblance of peace, Kyle and Stan hatch a plan to take the headless singer to the North Pole, only to learn en route of a mass public conspiracy aimed at killing Spears. The reporters, photographers and "Britney Watch" voyeurs explain that they need Spears to die so that they can offer her up as a human sacrifice for their annual corn harvest.

After a last-ditch, unsuccessful plea from Kyle ("You guys are going to end up killing her. I know watching celebrities go down can be fun...but maybe it's time to let this one go."), the mob descends on Spears and ultimately kills her with the relentless flashes from their cameras.

Only after the headless Spears lies lifeless on the field does the group agree "it's time for us to leave the poor girl alone."

As the screen cuts to shots of the year's bountiful corn harvest and the South Park citizens reaping the benefits in their local supermarket, the store's television just happens to switch on to Entertainment Tonight, which features a segment on 15-year-old Hannah Montana superstar and pop culture's newest princess, Miley Cyrus."

Superbad

This movie is an infectuous disease that has infected the world, and the world LOVES it. This movie is having a larger impact on my generation then any other movie i've heard of or seen. Viewing "Superbad" is now a right of passage, at least my school, and I find the reason people love it so much is because it is real. It holds and showcases the lifestyle everyone lives and loves, and it's really really (bad pun warning) superbad.

Say Anything

Say Anything is a fantastic romantic comedy from the boppin' n' hoppin' 80's. Interestingly enough though, the soundtrack doesn't contain any familiar music from the time, just familiar 80's sounds.
John Cusack stars as the lower class highschool graduate that decides he's going to chase the girl of his dreams. Movie ensues.
That's all there really is too it. It's simple. I found the movie really funny, and it has one of the most classic "romantic" scenes I've ever seen or heard of in a movie. Besides being just a good movie though there isn't much else.

The Future Is Unwritten

This is a documentary on the life of Joe Strummer before, during and after his life with the Clash. It is directed by Julien Temple, who also fashioned "The Filth and the Fury" documentary about the controversial Sex Pistols, and is arguably the greatest rockumentary/music documentary of all time.
Being a fan of the Clash isn't necessary to view this film as it is about a man and his journey through life, of which the clash happen to be a part of. The story of Strummer's is a fantastic one that should be heard more oft. Apart from the story, the "direction" is superb. Julien Temple has fashioned the documentary completely (with the exception of fantastic interviews) of stock footage. Whether this be footage of strummer's life or just random footage that represent the times, it all propels the movie forward.
This is not "The Filth and the Fury" (for better or worse) and has a more redeeming ending. I recommend highly for anyone that likes inspirational stories about inspiring individuals.