Noir World

For the most part, the present day bores me half to death. This is why I spend so much time lost in dreams of the fantastic, playing video games, reading, or writing. According to fiction novels and movies the middle-ages were a sword swinging good time. There was magic, Hobbits, and wildly attractive well groomed maidens waiting to be rescued. Of course, there were also dragons and dark overlords trying to enslave everyone and destroy the world, but such is the weather. Turn the page and you will be ushered into the future where space-travel, laser guns, and triple-breasted babes await anyone with the bravado to tackle evil empires and hostile alien races. Flip a coin; either one of those scenarios beats delivering pizza and filling out a census.


Recently I was introduced to another fine example of the fanciful: film noir.

In Noir World adventure can be found in the dark alleyways of a rain glazed downtown, in seedy underground bars, hopping jazz clubs, and raucous cigarette smoke filled socialite parties. Blackmail is the flavor of the day, and double-crosses are as common as the street rats and glasses of scotch. The heroes come in the form of fedora wearing, trench coat clad, hard boiled private detectives. The women are more commonly referred to as femme fatales, whose piercing eyes and beautiful features are matched only by their penchant for murder and mayhem. Yes, please!

"Build my gallows high, baby."

I love mysteries, thrillers, and speaking in double entendre, so a jaunt in Noir World would be almost natural for the likes of me. Sadly, I don’t get involved with as much of that as I would like, what with living in such a desensitized and loose world as this and all. The world of the 1940’s and 50’s was far more restrained—thanks to Nazi-like ratings boards and overbearing religious decree—and were the people of that era introduced to anything that you can find on broadcast television these days, it is highly likely the planet would have exploded in a cloud of bullet bras and nipple-high trousers. It is in the reading between the lines and examination of the psychological that Noir World truly shines.

Speaking of double entendre, any writer that can turn a casual conversation about racing horses into a metaphor for sex is genius in my book. See: The Big Sleep with Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall.

"I prefer to start out in front, work my way to the rear, and come from behind..."

To think that my parents came from such an awesome time; I am truly jealous. Philip Marlowe is a much more interesting character than any of the douchebags on film today. And ladies just aren’t built the same way these days as they were back then. Our genes and hormones are so screwy from all the genetically tampered food and drugs that our bodies are a far cry from what they should be, and the clothes we have to stuff them into are just as ill-conceived. Try wearing your trench coat like Robert Mitchum, or rocking some heels like Jane Greer; you will be nothing more than a sad pretender, and believe me: I suck at heels.

Compared to that golden age today is neurotic, nephritic, and definitely not cool. Now, I know what you are thinking—I am a super-mutant after all—and your argument of “those are movies, not reality” is bunk. We have had over fifty years to demolish and rebuild society to function as it does in The Maltese Falcon. The fact that we haven’t is proof of our glaring disregard for all that is virtuous; a mutilated figurehead of abject failure. Shame on us. Shame on us all.

We will never be this bad ass.

Love,
Smiley Grimm

Mad Science

For the most part, I begin most of my blog postings with the phrase "for the most part." Perhaps I should start all of them this way. Eh, we'll see. I also noticed that I don't make many posts in March. In fact, zero. If I remember correctly, last year I didn't post in March because I was without a computer. This year it was because I was super busy.

My band, Verdict of Vengeance, finally found a drummer. Because our previous drummer had gotten too fat and out of shape to perform metal, and thus had to quit, we went almost a whole year without playing. This contributed to 2009 being one of the worst years of my life. Having an outlet for release and creativity is very important to me and for the last twelve years my band was the primary source. Without it I probably became even balder. For sure, my urge to kill rose steadily. Happy days are here again, though, for the total antithesis of the last dude has arrived.

Pictured: the reason my band mates just went on a diet.

The funny part is that when I say "total antithesis" I freaking mean it. Our last drummer was a 6'1 and 350lb slab of sweaty jiggly fat. You would swear he was born of a gene splicing between jello and big-macs. Our new drummer is a romance novel cover model. Read that last sentence again. Hyperbole and superlatives aside, he is one of the sexiest humans on this planet, and he actually appears in the book shelves of your local super-market on the cover of sleazy romance novels. You know, one of those people you don't believe exists until you see them. Also, he’s one of those people that drastically decrease your chances of attracting the opposite sex. Don't believe me? Click here.

That link should send you to a male strip club where he is the main event. Come to find out, most male exotic dancers are fans of heavy metal and travel in oiled up strip-packs. When I show up to band practice now, not only do I have the super model drummer waiting for me, but there are also a handful of other muscle bound studs standing around lifting heavy things over their heads, enjoying the adulation of a gaggle of women, and totally making me consider becoming a monk because I am never getting laid again. That's fine; at least I am jamming now.

At a recent show—our first with Mr. Sexypants—after we finished our set and I stepped off stage, a female ran up to me, grabbed my dude-boob, and told me ab for ab how hot my new drummer is. She then skipped away like a prancing bunny. This is the first time I have ever seen chicks that were happy to have attended a heavy metal show. Like, whoa!

I don't want to be unfair; the new dude is a fantastic musician and a wonderful human being. The whole band is very grateful for his arrival and we look forward to many awesome shows with him. I am also looking forward to collecting his sweat droplets and harvesting his DNA for personal "improvements," or in other words, self-help mad scientist style.

"At last, Angelo juice!"

There is more to share so check back for more posts over the next few days.

Love,
Smiley Grimm