FREE COMIC BOOK DAY, SATURDAY MAY 2ND 2009

THIS SATURDAY IS FREE COMIC BOOK DAY. MOST LOCAL COMIC BOOK STORES ARE DOING IT SO CHECK OUT YOUR LOCAL RETAILER AND THEN GO GET SOME FREE COMICS!!


http://www.freecomicbookday.com

WOLVERINE THE MUSICAL

THIS NEEDS NO INTRODUCTION

SHATNER VS CAMPBELL...GET READY FOR AWESOME

Usually I'm not involved with the whole William-Shatner-As-God thing but I'm not really a Trekkie. I dug the show, liked the movies but was more of a Star Wars guy until of course Lucas ass-raped my childhood..but I digress.

This new book called QUAKE by Jeff Burk sounds, well it sounds fucking incredible. In the novel Shatner is the host of the first Shatnercon which is infiltrated by a terrorist group dedicated to Bruce Campbell. Their job is to take Shatner out, but he won't take it laying dow.

HOW FUCKING COOL DOES THAT SOUND!!

Want to buy it then go HERE

THE LANGUAGE OF THE SWINE FLU IS PISSING ME OFF

OK, I get it, I understand, the whole Swine Flu thing is dangerous and tense but I am really really fuck tired of how the News is handling this whole thing. Why not just start screaming into the camera

"OH GOD, OH GOD, WE'RE ALL GONNA FUCKING DIE. AHHHH RUN RUNNNNN!!'

Actually that would be too honest for the media whose entire existence is based on scaring people into staying home and buying things. It's not about a Liberal or Conservative media anymore, it's about money bucks. We need ratings so lets make everything that goes even the tiniest bit wrong into a massive shitstorm so people will feel that they must tune in or they'll die.

When I was watching the "coverage" of the Swine Flu it became increasingly interesting how much language has to do with the fear that the News instills in all of us. Look at something as average as the name of the flu. It's called A/H1N1, that's the scientific name for it. However that isn't sexy so the media found out it attacked pigs mostly and decided to call it Swine Flu.

Swine Flu sounds like something out of a Stephen King novel so it'll scare people quicker and get them to tune in. Once the truly ignorant started killing off pigs to purge the flu from their midst (nicely done Egypt) the News started calling the virus by it's real name...sort of.

A/H1N1 again doesn't roll off the tongue so the News shortened it to H1N1 because that sounds scarier. The other sounds all technical and less like an action movie plot. Now we're being attacked by the H1N1 which could cause a pandemic. That's a movie tag line worthy of 1980s Stallone.

When the little boy was found who first had the flu he was labeled "Patient Zero". I guess saying something like "This little boy was the first to get the flu" wasn't nearly terrifying enough so out comes "Patient Zero" and where does Patient Zero live?

"GROUND ZERO"

Yep because giving his location wouldn't scare a paranoid old woman high on bad weed but fuckin' A "Ground Zero" sounds like a bomb target and that is all super scary. I also love how figuring out what to do about this flu is titled "Threat Assessment", the same term we use for terrorist movements. So according to our language we're involved in some kind of germ jihad by a a viral terrorist.

Now that's some scary shit.

Even the Center for Disease Control is adding to the fear. First of all thousands die of influenza every year, so let's not start reciting sections from The Stand just yet. Secondly why would the CDC go on national television and say "We fully expect to see many deaths" What does that solve? Who does that help? Why not wait until there are actual deaths before tossing that term around.

I'm also all set with the news listing all these deaths and how the pandemic is spreading across America. So far everybody who has gotten sick was in Mexico for some reason and the first "death in the states attributed to Swine Flu" was a baby visiting Texas from...where?

Drum roll

MEXICO

Let's forget that many babies die every year of flu like infections. The poor baby that died was actually a citizen of Mexico. Technically there hasn't been one death of an American in America. Why not say that? Why make everything about scaring people to death.

I also love how the news would rather report all the terrible things on the Swine Flu then delve into how you can avoid it. Sure they toss out little tidbits like "wash your hands" but spend most of the air time letting you know how awful it is and that it's incurable once you get it. Why not dedicate as much reporting time on what all can be done to avoid infection? Because that wouldn't scare the shit out of people and get them to remain glued to the TV waiting for the next awful story.

I realize this is serious and I'm not asking anybody to sugar coat anything for me but how about attempting to make it less end-of-the-world dramatic? Just report the news stop sensationalizing it. It doesn't help it just breeds more fear.

Which I feel is a disease that does a lot more damage.

APPARENTLY TO MAKE MICHAEL MYERS SCARY ROB ZOMBIE MADE HIM A BUM

Rob Zombie is a hack with a shitload of smoke and mirrors that have somehow fooled people into thinking he's a great filmmaker. He has no ear for dialog, his shot choices are boring and his plots are almost as insipid as his casting choices. In this new remake of a sequel already made Zombie continues his desire to "Make Michael Myers scary again" by dressing him up like a homeless man. I guess Zombie has a real fear of bums. here's photo


BOY AM I GLAD ZOMBIE IS GETTING RID OF THAT WHOLE PESKY "MASK" THING THAT MICHAEL MYERS HAD GOING ON.

I hate everything

THIS IS PRETTY FUCK AWESOME

I don't know if this will ever happen or if it ever should happen but this picture kicks a lot of ass. I'm also amped that Martha Plimpton is still hot!!

SUCK MY ASS IT SMELLS LINDSEY LOHAN

LOHAN HOPING ALL THE WATER FALLING IN HER MOUTH ISN'T FULL OF CALORIES

For the inaugural run of Can I Get A Fuck You I figured no better place to start than with Lindsey Lohan. This crazy bitch had everything, EVERYTHING anybody could possibly want. Money, fame, love, respect, career, and it was all handed to her. She was maybe 12 when she played her first role and from then on it was big picture after big picture. She became the role model for little girls who ran out and saw her crappy movies and bought all her merchandise. She had critics thinking she might develop actual talent at some point so she was starting to get offered real meaty roles. CHRIST she couldn't sing worth a fuck and the crazy bitch managed to get a recording contract and sell albums.

Then she decided she'd play the "Party Girl Actress Card" for no fuck reason. It's one thing to do lots of drugs, stay out all night and act generally stupid in public when you're famous. Robert Downey JR is one of the many who pulled that shit and managed to keep his career alive. Lohan snorted enough cocaine to start getting Christmas cards from Bolivian drug czars who legally changed their name to Tony Montoya as well as seeing which alcoholic beverage supplier she could run out of business first. She didn't show up for work, started talking shit about people until movie executives started firing her and getting her off of movies. MOVIE EXECUTIVES did this. These lying scumwhores would stuff any pills they could find down the mouth of an actor/actress just to get them on set. Lohan managed to make it too difficult for these people, that's a real achievment.

I think it also sucked that she was so boring about it. Her whole thing read like a "child star goes awry" handbook. Britney had the common decency to shave her head in public, blather like an idiot and crash her car constantly but only going 5 miles an hour. That's at least fun shit to watch. Lohan decided it would be better to go by a tragedy child star checklist:

Start drinking

Go to Rehabd

Get out and do press tour about how much better it is being sober.

Relapse

Go back to rehab and blame parents

Relapse into harder drugs

Don't show up for work enough to get fired.

Get in trouble with the law

continue drinking so that trouble gets worse

start high profile lesbian affair

try and make fun of yourself when lesbian relationship goes wrong

start losing so much weight you stay in the public eye because people want to see if you ever finally vanish into thin air

Hope that in 5 years a young director, who loved you when he was young, puts you in a cool indie movie so you can do the "career comeback" bullshit and show up at Sundance in a skully cap and sunglasses talking about all that you've learned.

DOUCHE CHILL RATING SYSTEM: 95% (IF SHE DOES HARDCORE PORN 50%)

TRANSFORMERS 2 TRAILER

This looks mainly like the cable commercial Michael Bay did where everything is AWESOME and blows up and is bigger than life but as far as an actual movie goes looks kind of boring.

REMEMBER WHEN RAP WAS AWESOME?

HALLOWEEN 2 REMAKE TRAILER...FUCK THIS

Is it me or would a movie where Michael Myers comes back to life and kills Rob Zombie for doing this to his memory kick much ass.

Did every dig Mike's Boxer-In-Training look? Perhaps the sequel to the movie Fighting will be about serial killers fighting.

I hate everything

AND THIS HAS TO DO WITH WOLVERINE HOW...EXACTLY?

OK so apparently the idiots at FOX are panicking. The lie is out that the movie version is different than the leaked workprint of Wolverine (save for the finished effects) and not only that it sucks big time ass. Don't believe me, check out my review on this site. With all of that going against them the folks at FOX have lost their damn minds with the tie ins. I understand toys, shirts, hats, even happy meals with toys in them but this shit makes no sense. Check it out:



I'M THE BEST AT WHAT I DO AND AFTER SLICING PEOPLE INTO LITTLE BLOODY BITS NOTHING MAKES A MUTANT HAPPIER THAN A LATTE.



WOLVERINE DOESN'T EVEN FUCKING SHAVE. THAT'S PART OF HIS WHOLE THING, THE ANIMAL LOOK




ISN'T THIS PIZZA BULLSHIT THE TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES AREA?


Congrats FOX, you've fucked this all up and probably ruined the possibility for another X-Men sequel or more Wolverine movies.

OH WAIT, THAT'S A GOOD THING

I HATE EVERYTHING

DEVO INTERVIEW 1981

I saw this tour so this interview takes me back!!

THIS COULD BE THE COOLEST SHIRT EVER

This shirt is amazing not only for the obvious reasons but for the many subtle levels that it works on. Here's the place to order it. It's in the UK so it ain't cheap.

http://www.disturbiaclothing.co.uk/products/guys-clothing/bateman

MY REVIEW FOR WOLVERINE UPDATED--I WAS RIGHT, I WAS RIGHT, I WAS RIGHT

UPDATE: SO AFTER WEEKS OF DENYING IT AND SAYING THERE IS OVER TEN MINUTES OF UNSEEN FOOTAGE, NEW EFFECTS AND SO FORTH THE TRUTH COMES OUT. THE WORKPRINT VERSION OF WOLVERINE IS EXACTLY LIKE THE FINAL VERSION ONLY WITH FINISHED EFFECTS. REPORTS ARE STREAMING IN FROM EVERYWHERE ABOUT HOW THERE IS NO DIFFERENT AND THE FINISHED CGI LOOKS LIKE ASS!!

WITH THAT IN MIND TAKE A MINUTE TO RE-READ MY REVIEW BEFORE YOU SEE THIS ON MAY 1ST.

So after watching the movie twice I have decided to throw my hat into the ring with a review of X Men Origins: Wolverine. First of all I know it’s an unfinished copy, I can tell from both the unfinished effects on screen and the hysterical screeches of a panicked movie company. However trust me when I say that’s a huge smoke screen because there are not enough re-shoots in the world to save this movie. Fox can say what they want but this is the finished movie minus some tweaks and maybe an attempt to save the ending. All of which feels like a band-aid on a bullet wound.

If you want an understanding of what the Wolverine movie is like just look at the title: X-Men Origins: Wolverine. The title is clunky, doesn’t flow at all and fails at trying to do too much, exactly like the film. This is a rushed, badly written movie that has no idea what it wants to be so it tries to be everything. I’m not sure if it was Fox or Marvel who decided that throwing in random mutants for guest spots was a good idea but these cameos do more to sink the film than anything else.

Wolverine should have been a movie based on Frank Miller’s original 4-part mini-series. It should have been a dark, violent film based in Japan where Wolverine (aka Logan) has to face ninjas, samurai and his own dark past. There is no reason to try and do a film that gives us some definitive story to Wolverine’s past, especially when it’s slapped together like this hunk of shit. It largely feels as if there was no script and that the entire crew decided it would be easier to make it up as they went along instead of bothering with silly details like character development or dialog.

The movie opens with Logan as a sickly youngster in the 1900s. His only friend is a boy who works for his rich father. Through a course of circumstances that are rushed and badly handled Logan realizes he has claws, kills a man and escape into the night with this boy who turns out to be not only Sabertooth but also Logan’s brother.

Cut to the opening credits, which are shown over excessive flashbacks of the two brothers fighting in various wars and learning about their mutant powers. This could have been cool except that it feels more like a “If you’re just joining us” part and it goes on way too long. The movie then jumps to Sabertooth and Logan joining Colonel William Stryker’s team of mutants under the idea that they will be serving and protecting their country. Almost before it begins you know that Logan won’ t like this team and that’ll the central plot of the movie.

The Mutants on the team are Logan, Sabertooth, The Blob, Agent Zero, Deadpool and John Wraith. The mutants are one-dimensional characters that are there simply for “cool factor” and to allow the special effects people to go nuts. After one really harsh mission Logan walks away and moves to Colorado to become a logger. When we see him he’s married and living this perfect life. No explanation of how it happened it just is. One day Stryker visits saying that the team is being picked off and will Logan help find the guy doing it. GASP he refuses but becomes forced into action when his wife is murdered.

Between there and the end we are treated to a clunky sub-plot involving a teenage Cyclops, Wolverine getting is adamantium skeleton and the death of the other mutants on the team. We also get the character of Gambit forced on us. Not only is Gambit a lame character but also he has no place in the movie. When you hear why he’s involved you literally can’t believe the lack of grace by which he’s forced on us.

The Wolverine adamantium thing is by far the worst slap to the character in the whole movie. In the comics Wolverine is kidnapped by Weapon X and forced into the adamantium experiment. In the movie he volunteers for it and asks that his new name be “Wolverine”. He still has all his memories and doesn’t lose those until the unbelievably bad ending. Why do that?

Wolverine just blunders from one scene to the next with absolutely zero flow. For instance there is a scene when Sabertooth is taking out a mutant named Beak (played by Dominic Monaghan) and during this entire scene you’re wondering who this guy is because the big death scene is the first time you ever see him. The “twist” at the end makes no sense and didn’t need to be in the film. The movie also fails to give any of the other mutants a personality or depths so when they die you don’t really care.

As for what’s done with Deadpool, I don’t give two fucks if this spoils the film because nobody should be seeing it anyway. Deadpool is in the movie at the very beginning played in that same “Hey ain’t I a funny guy” way that Ryan Reynolds plays EVERY PART HE’S EVER IN!! Then Deadpool is gone until the end where he is revealed as this super weapon. He shoots lasers from his eyes, has tribal tattoos and his swords now shoot out of his hands like Logan’s claws. Yeah, I’m not shitting you; it’s that fucking stupid.

Outside of all the new problems with the movie the same issues still exist with Jackman’s Wolverine. He’s balless, totally devoid of that psychopathic dark side that makes the character so wonderful. Sabertooth also fails to work almost instantly and that’s fully a casting issue. Liev Schrieber is a great actor but he isn’t Sabertooth. It would be like casting Steve Carell to play Arnold Schwarzenegger in a Commando re-make. You never ever on any level at all believe Schrieber is a menace. With that gone the central conflict of the film evaporates and boredom once again sets in.

While Wolverine isn’t the colossal blunder that The Spirit was it isn’t nearly as good as Punisher: Warzone and that’s saying something. Punisher was stupid but at least it had some kind of rhythm to it, some kind of feel that there was a script involved albeit a bad one. Wolverine feels more like those in charge shot a bunch of cool action sequences and then hastily wrote a bunch of scenes to lead into them. Re-shoots or not the filmmakers have managed to do the one thing nobody else has:

Kill Wolverine.

THROBBING GRISTLE AND DEREK JARMAN

CHECK THIS OUT, SO AWESOME!!

"TG: Psychic Rally In Heaven," a short film Jarman made for Throbbing Gristle in 1981

THIS COULD BE THE NEW THOR???

This dapper looking twentysomething is Charlie Hunnam from the not-sure-if-it's-a-hit show Sons Of Anarchy. For those who've never seen it imagine applying the depth of Sex In The City and the violence-makes-it-art vibe of The Sopranos to the world of motorcycle gangs. Yeah, it's not very realistic or very good.

That being said rumor in Hollywood is that Mr. Hunnam is in line to possibly play Thor in the new movie. Are they serious? Has Hollywood lost all train of thought and just decided that if a guy looks like Heath Ledger he can probably carry a gigantic film on his back. Not to mention based on the AGE and LOOK of Mr. Hunnam I can see huge changes in the plot. Here's what I'm thinking:

The opening credits to be shot in quick cut form matching the 90210 opening sequence from the 90s.

Thor is like the totally brooding and quick tempered kid at High School. The bad boy nobody knows and won't take the teachers shit during Nordic God Gym Class.

After a fight with his dad he like gets totally angry and leave for Earth to chill out and try lattes.

He meets this AWESOME skateboarder named Donnie B. and they start totally grinding.

After an accident Donnie B. is hurt and Thor totally saves him by becoming one with him.

Now whenever Donnie B is in trouble or needs to land a serious trick he slams his skateboard down and becomes Thor.

Thor goes back to Asgard and finds the totally WACK loki has taken over the school.

Thor fights his henchmen and then after an epic dance off Loki and Thor become buddies in order to bring real justice back to the halls of Asgard High.

In the last scene Thor has persuaded Odin to bring Fall Out Boy to Asgard for his totally God like AMAZING birthday party complete with Rainbow Half Pipes.


That sound right to you guys?

THE BEST OF SIMON & KIRBY. I CAN'T WAIT FOR THIS.

From the very beginning in the late 1930s, Simon and Kirby produced the finest stories around, creating dramatic new super heroes (Captain America, Blue Bolt, Fighting American, The Fly), western action (Boy’s Ranch), gruesome horror (Black Magic), explosive detective fiction (Justice Traps the Guilty), and the very first romance comics (Young Romance). They were the dream team.

• The only edition authorized by both Joe Simon and the estate of Jack Kirby

• Hand-picked by Joe Simon himself, with introductory material by him

• The images are fully restored to their original vibrancy by Harry Mendryk and presented in an impressive, collectible package

• Contains more than two-dozen tales, presented in their entirety, including stories from Simon and Kirby’s time at DC and Marvel

• Includes some of the most famous S&K creations, including Captain America, Fighting American, The Fly, Boy’s Ranch, Bullseye, and Stuntman

• The beginning of a planned collection of the entire Simon and Kirby Library

• With illustrated essays by Mark Evanier, author of Kirby: King of Comics


I could say something about how fucking brilliant this is but really, I don't need to.

MARVEL'S "WOLVERINE APPRECIATION" VARIANT COVERS

So in order to try and hawk the new Wolverine movie (which sucks) the folks at Marvel have been releasing variant covers of their books that have to do with Wolverine. It's being called Wolverine Appreciation which is lame as all hell but some of the art work is really cool. As a courtesy I've compiled the covers for you to check out and list if you want.

Enjoy!!

DEVO VS SOULJA BOY VS TING TINGS VS THE KNACK VS TONI BASIL

YEAH, THIS KICKS MUCH ASS.

THANKSGIVING INSTRUCTION VIA DEVO

I'm not sure why this starts off as how to stuff a turkey and then ends as a don't eat turkey message and I don't care. Just look at it!!

WE ARE IN LOVE

THE LURCH DANCE ROCKS

SUCK MY ASS IT SMELLS FRIDAY NIGHT FIGHTS: BAM MARGERA VS HARRY KNOWLES

LET THE FIGHT BEGIN:

The two men begin to circle each other, which is no small feat for Bam. Knowles is already out of breath from the 30 seconds of forward motion but the stink from Margera's shitty pants could have something to do with it. Margera, once he realized his "posse" wouldn't be there to fight his battles for him instantly shit himself and it's really hurt his mobility.

Margera has decided to use his ability at pompous grandstanding to keep Knowles off balance but it's met with the fierce self-importance shield that Knowles raises whenever his eyes open. Both men circle again with Knowles shouting "Harry Here" to an unsympathetic crowd.

Margera whips out one of his many signature skateboards that nobody bought and swings it at Knowles's giant head. It catches a natty twist of red curls but Knowles manages to counter by tossing one of his collection of 16mm prints right at the legs of Margera. Sadly Margera was busy lifting up his shirt to show the crowd his abs so the 16mm print caught him square in the back.

Margera rolls and counters with a brutal attack of eyeliner staining Knowles's already food-stained shirt even more. Knowles begins his own attack by uselessly prattling off all the famous people he knows or has met in an attempt to confuse Margera.

Margera, easily confused by shampoo directions, is caught off guard and tossed against the ropes. It's looking bad for this average skateboarder turned MTV sitcom star as his 15 minutes of fame seriously begin to run out. Margera isn't done yet, he still has his hidden gross of god-awful band T-shirts.

Knowles tries to counter the offense with a list of random movie facts nobody cares about but Margera's endless supply of HIM t-shirts knocks the fat man of movies onto his ass.

Margera senses the kill is near so he quickly paints Knowles's fingernails and then raises a boot to his face. Knowles tries to block but realizing he hasn't actually done anything but kiss ass drains his power and the boot tears through his skull. Margera has won.

The judges come out and make their decision. Placing Margera on his knees they put two bullets in the back of his skull and leave his lifeless body laying across the already decaying Knowles.

EVERYBODY WINS.

SEE YOU NEXT WEEK>

A GI JOE MOVIE THAT DOESN'T SUCK!?

Like the rest of the world I have one thought about the new live action GI Joe movie: SO WHAT!? Not even do I care enough about that movie to hate it, I just don't care at all that it's been made. Part of that is the fact that while I enjoyed the cartoons as a kid, this was never my GI JOE. GI JOE to me was a bad ass motherfucker with a seventies beard and kung fu grip. It was like an Army Pimp with slapped out at bad guys.

When the new GI JOE came on line I was cool with it, even bought some of the toys, but I never embraced it like others did. So imagine my surprise when I saw the trailer below for the animated GI JOE: RESOLUTE movie. I was so amped, it looks killer and that's just within this small trailer. Check it out:

That does look cool but imagine a live action movie with this bad boy:



NOW THAT'S WAHT I'M TALKING ABOUT!!!

CHECK OUT THE HALLOWEEN 2 RE-MAKE SCREEN SHOT AND POSTER

So below is a look at Michael Myers from Rob Zombie's re-make sequel to his re-make of Halloween called H2 (because the great big words Halloween 2 are too much for the Disco Metal King to utter). Besides the fact that this is a re-make of a sequel to a re-make of a movie, or the fact that Rob Zombie's Halloween re-make blew ass chunks all over the theater, the quote "In the sequel you'll see many faces of Michael Myers, including unmasked" from Zombie himself bugs me.

It also bugs me that enough morons went and saw the first remake to warrant a second one. I'm also trying to ignore Zombie's rant when he finished the first Halloween re-make about how stupid it would be to do a re-make of a sequel to a re-make of an original. I'm trying to see how often I can use the word re-make before it loses all meaning.

Apparently H2 (remember, Halloween 2 is too long) picks up right after the end of Halloween 1 (the re-make). I'm kind of bummed on that, I was hoping between the movies the kids that lived would take some acting classes and Zombie would take a course on writing, directing and pacing a movie. Oh well, I guess it's another batch of shit stir fry from a man who decided he could make movies because he directed Dance Metal videos.

I hate everything including these photos

MY VIDEO RESUME

Hey these are a batch of videos I directed in the 90s. There was little to no money involved but I got most them decent rotation on MTV and I'm proud of them. I did have help on them but since those parties have decided to take full credit for a business I created I figure I'd be honest and take my full credit as director/editor here.

H20 "Family Tree"



H20 "SPIRIT OF 84"




WARZONE "THE SOUND OF REVOLUTION"




SICK OF IT ALL "US VS THEM"




HED PE "GROUND"




NAPALM DEATH "BLEED TO BREATHE"




H20 "EVERREADY"




AGNOSTIC FRONT "RIOT RIOT UPSTART"




UNSANE "SICK"

MY REVIEW FOR "X-MEN ORIGINS: WOLVERINE"

So after watching the movie twice I have decided to throw my hat into the ring with a review of X Men Origins: Wolverine. First of all I know it’s an unfinished copy, I can tell from both the unfinished effects on screen and the hysterical screeches of a panicked movie company. However trust me when I say that’s a huge smoke screen because there are not enough re-shoots in the world to save this movie. Fox can say what they want but this is the finished movie minus some tweaks and maybe an attempt to save the ending. All of which feels like a band-aid on a bullet wound.

If you want an understanding of what the Wolverine movie is like just look at the title: X-Men Origins: Wolverine. The title is clunky, doesn’t flow at all and fails at trying to do too much, exactly like the film. This is a rushed, badly written movie that has no idea what it wants to be so it tries to be everything. I’m not sure if it was Fox or Marvel who decided that throwing in random mutants for guest spots was a good idea but these cameos do more to sink the film than anything else.

Wolverine should have been a movie based on Frank Miller’s original 4-part mini-series. It should have been a dark, violent film based in Japan where Wolverine (aka Logan) has to face ninjas, samurai and his own dark past. There is no reason to try and do a film that gives us some definitive story to Wolverine’s past, especially when it’s slapped together like this hunk of shit. It largely feels as if there was no script and that the entire crew decided it would be easier to make it up as they went along instead of bothering with silly details like character development or dialog.

The movie opens with Logan as a sickly youngster in the 1900s. His only friend is a boy who works for his rich father. Through a course of circumstances that are rushed and badly handled Logan realizes he has claws, kills a man and escape into the night with this boy who turns out to be not only Sabertooth but also Logan’s brother.

Cut to the opening credits, which are shown over excessive flashbacks of the two brothers fighting in various wars and learning about their mutant powers. This could have been cool except that it feels more like a “If you’re just joining us” part and it goes on way too long. The movie then jumps to Sabertooth and Logan joining Colonel William Stryker’s team of mutants under the idea that they will be serving and protecting their country. Almost before it begins you know that Logan won’ t like this team and that’ll the central plot of the movie.

The Mutants on the team are Logan, Sabertooth, The Blob, Agent Zero, Deadpool and John Wraith. The mutants are one-dimensional characters that are there simply for “cool factor” and to allow the special effects people to go nuts. After one really harsh mission Logan walks away and moves to Colorado to become a logger. When we see him he’s married and living this perfect life. No explanation of how it happened it just is. One day Stryker visits saying that the team is being picked off and will Logan help find the guy doing it. GASP he refuses but becomes forced into action when his wife is murdered.

Between there and the end we are treated to a clunky sub-plot involving a teenage Cyclops, Wolverine getting is adamantium skeleton and the death of the other mutants on the team. We also get the character of Gambit forced on us. Not only is Gambit a lame character but also he has no place in the movie. When you hear why he’s involved you literally can’t believe the lack of grace by which he’s forced on us.

The Wolverine adamantium thing is by far the worst slap to the character in the whole movie. In the comics Wolverine is kidnapped by Weapon X and forced into the adamantium experiment. In the movie he volunteers for it and asks that his new name be “Wolverine”. He still has all his memories and doesn’t lose those until the unbelievably bad ending. Why do that?

Wolverine just blunders from one scene to the next with absolutely zero flow. For instance there is a scene when Sabertooth is taking out a mutant named Beak (played by Dominic Monaghan) and during this entire scene you’re wondering who this guy is because the big death scene is the first time you ever see him. The “twist” at the end makes no sense and didn’t need to be in the film. The movie also fails to give any of the other mutants a personality or depths so when they die you don’t really care.

As for what’s done with Deadpool, I don’t give two fucks if this spoils the film because nobody should be seeing it anyway. Deadpool is in the movie at the very beginning played in that same “Hey ain’t I a funny guy” way that Ryan Reynolds plays EVERY PART HE’S EVER IN!! Then Deadpool is gone until the end where he is revealed as this super weapon. He shoots lasers from his eyes, has tribal tattoos and his swords now shoot out of his hands like Logan’s claws. Yeah, I’m not shitting you; it’s that fucking stupid.

Outside of all the new problems with the movie the same issues still exist with Jackman’s Wolverine. He’s balless, totally devoid of that psychopathic dark side that makes the character so wonderful. Sabertooth also fails to work almost instantly and that’s fully a casting issue. Liev Schrieber is a great actor but he isn’t Sabertooth. It would be like casting Steve Carell to play Arnold Schwarzenegger in a Commando re-make. You never ever on any level at all believe Schrieber is a menace. With that gone the central conflict of the film evaporates and boredom once again sets in.

While Wolverine isn’t the colossal blunder that The Spirit was it isn’t nearly as good as Punisher: Warzone and that’s saying something. Punisher was stupid but at least it had some kind of rhythm to it, some kind of feel that there was a script involved albeit a bad one. Wolverine feels more like those in charge shot a bunch of cool action sequences and then hastily wrote a bunch of scenes to lead into them. Re-shoots or not the filmmakers have managed to do the one thing nobody else has:

Kill Wolverine.

DANIEL

“He’s asleep right now.”

I stood in the hospital waiting room thinking of how it smelled vaguely like a bathroom mixed with medicine. I kept having this image of a small toilet with a huge urinal mint in it that stank the whole place up. I smiled at the image as the buzzing of my mother on the phone went on and on forever. My mother dealt with trauma by talking, it was her defense mechanism. At my age I had developed a rather fine tuned filter. I could turn most of what she said into background noise but still allow enough to leak through that she was convinced I hung on every word. I used the giant urinal mint bathroom image to get through he latest tirade.

“Like I said he’s asleep.” There was a pause so I felt I had to say something. “The doctor doesn’t have much more to tell us than he already did.“

My mother began prattling on again and my mind switched gears to the last few hours. The Doctor had stood there trying very hard to not look like a doctor. Cowboy boots instead of shoes, open collar shirt with no tie, etc. He held a clipboard; spoke to my father about how the Sarcoma had spread into his lungs. I watched my father, all 100 pounds of him; begin to talk about getting involved in chemotherapy right away.

The Doctor looked at me for help as my dad continued talking about being strong through the sickness that Chemotherapy would bring. It was the first time since the whole ordeal began that I had wanted to cry. I didn’t cry, I couldn’t cry because dad would want to know what I was crying about.

“Dad you have AIDS so chemotherapy is not even an option.”

Yeah, that wasn’t something I could say so I sucked it all back using the “my eyes sure are tired” excuse when I wiped them free of tears. The Doctor smiled at my dad and tapped me arm, the indication that we had to talk. Over the months the Doctor and I had unconsciously come up with a laundry list of signals for each other. The arm tap meant I needed to follow him outside. It was the one the Doctor used when he first told me dad had AIDS. I followed the Doctor out and stood watching him, trying not to be pissed that his kids wouldn’t be losing their dad anytime soon.

“We both know he won’t live through Chemo.” He said.

“I know Doc, he knows it to but he won’t admit it. Would you?”

“I suppose not.” He said after a long pause. “Do you want to tell him or shall I?”

“Nobody is telling him anything.” I said flatly. “Let him hold onto this until he dies, which we both know won’t be long.”

“We just lie to him?” The doctor said.

“We just…” I trailed off. “Humor him.”

The Doctor thought about this and shrugged a tenuous approval. As he left I watched him walk down the hall. Past the man on the stretcher sleeping, the zombie like patients on the AIDS floor who moved silently through the lime green halls pushing IV drips along with them and the nurses who had long become immune to seeing so much death. I watched the whole circus move through this tiny section of a grand hospital and fought back a flash of anger. My father was dying, I was losing him, I would never see him again and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“ I have to go mom.”

I was rushed back to the present by the silence. A lengthy silence meant my mom had been waiting a long time for my response. I had forgotten she was on the phone so my filter was of no use to me now. I had no clue what she had said at all and I didn’t care. I needed air; I needed to be off the phone and out of the giant urinal mint. I hung up the phone without waiting for her reply and bolted for the elevator.

I pushed the buttons over and over afraid a nurse would come running up to me and tell me dad had suddenly passed. The entire time I had managed to think of his death coming with warning bells, sirens, something to warn me to prepare myself for what his actual death. It didn’t work that way, he would die and I would be alone and it would happen with no more fanfare than when a clock changes numbers.

I stepped into the elevator and leaned against the wall. I was nearly to the ground floor when I realized I was crying, soft sobs that were almost silent. When I stepped into the general chaos of the ground floor my face was streaked with tears and this desperation to get outside and let the sun wash over me. I pushed through people, not caring who was sick and who wasn’t, propelled by a need to be outside. I burst through the doors into the warmth of the sunlight and put my face up to the sky. I had forgotten how cold the air conditioning inside could get and I basked in the chills that went through me as my body forced out the cold and replaced it with warmth.

It was several seconds before I was able to turn my face away from the sun and open my eyes. I looked over the bustling New York streets watching people dash around in their madness to get where they needed to go. None of these people knew my father and yet I felt another wash of anger that they wouldn’t stop and think of him. I wanted to shout that a great man was dying, stop worrying about your coffee drinks and portable hoo-haas

Though, to be honest, a coffee drink did sound good didn’t it? My tirade against the unfeeling masses of total strangers stopped short when I thought of how good an iced latte would be. I crossed the street and filed into the coffee shop. Inside was a circus of laptop computers, intelligent and feux intelligent conversations and all of them on cell phones. My father had called that the Modern Mosquito Buzz. He’d also called car alarms the Urban Cricket. My dad was a funny guy.

IS a funny guy

“Iced caramel latte.” I said to girl behind the counter.

“Vente, Grande or…”

“A fucking large.” I snapped, instantly regretting it.

I tried to apologize but she had already moved away to start my coffee. Wonderful, I was that guy now, the douche in the coffee shop. Awesome.

“Try not to worry about it.” A voice said.

I turned to see a young man standing next to me. He was all of twenty-five with a cherub face and long black hair. His skin was porcelain white and stood out harshly against the black clothing he wore. His eyes had a kindness to them but seemed weighed down with weary sadness. Though skinny he didn’t seem weak or mal-nourished.

If I were a man who believed in auras I would have said his burned brightly. He was a beautiful and sad and hard not to look at even for a confirmed straight man. He didn’t look at me but instead at the clear case filled with cookies and cakes and breakfast goodies. He seemed entranced by them as he ran his finger lovingly across the clear glass.

“Excuse me?” I said, when I could speak again.

“I said try not to worry about it. Being the douche at the coffee shop.” He still focused on the case.

“I didn’t realize I had said that out loud.” Had I? Great now I was talking to myself.

“Doesn’t matter, I was just saying not to be hard on yourself.” He paused. “Don’t those look wonderful?” He pointed at the cakes and cookies.

“Uh, I guess.” I wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

“They are, trust me, food of the Gods and all that kind of thing. You should have one.”

“I don’t want one. I don’t eat sweets really.”

“Really?” He finally looked at me. “Foolish boy.”

I looked at him and his smiling cherub face and then rolled my eyes and turned away. There may have been something about him but today was not my day to talk to strangers. I moved closer to the serving area and waited to get my coffee. The young man went back to obsessing over the cakes. When my coffee came up I took a big swig and headed back into the heat. I crossed the street to the hospital taking large sips of iced latte.

My phone hadn’t rung in awhile which was never a good sign. The only thing my mother did better than talk was pout. I could see her now turning my father’s death into something that affected her. Though she hadn’t been to see him since he had gotten sick. Though he was long her ex-husband. Though they never really spoke. It didn’t matter; his death would be a great burden to her.

She did that, my mother, turned everything into a hardship for her. If your foot got severed she’d be mad because you’d made her nauseous. She wasn’t evil or even bad she was just selfish. Her idea that spreading money was how you became known as giving was skewed to say the least. I knew this would turn into a fight later on down the road but I couldn’t bother with that right now. Right now was about Dad and Mom would keep. Her grudges didn’t die easily so there would be plenty of time to be told how mean I was to her later. Suddenly I needed a cigarette, badly. I had quit when dad first got really sick because he’d asked me to. It wasn’t easy but it wasn’t dreadful and once I had survived a month I never thought about them again. Right now though, I needed a cigarette worse than I ever had.

“Here.”

I turned to see the young man from the coffee shop holding out a pack of Nat Shermans (my favorite brand) with one smoke leaning out of it. He smiled like the cat that swallowed the canary and gestured again for me to take one.

“Are you following me?” I asked him.

“That’s a long story Mark.” He said back, still smiling. “Take the smoke.”

“OK how do you know my name?” I was getting anxious.

“Oh not this again.” He sighed. “I was really hoping to skip the part where you question who I am and I have to resort to parlor tricks to convince you. So been done, so boring, so cliché. I hate clichés; I try to avoid being one if I can.“

“What the fuck are you talking about kid?” I snapped. This was pissing me off.

“Kid? I take offense to that, I am older than you by a long shot. Do you want this smoke or not?”

“No.” I yelled. “I want you to stop following me and…”

“I’m here to help your father Mark…”

I swung at him. I wasn’t even fully conscious that I had done it until I saw my fist rocket towards his face. I closed my eyes, waiting to hear that ugly crack of bone against bone. When I didn’t hear anything my first thought was that he had ducked. I opened my eyes to avoid his retaliation. What I saw froze my blood and in one instant I was smarter than everybody I had ever known and even most I had never met.

My arm was completely extended about an inch from the young man’s face but it was frozen. In fact I was frozen, unable to move anything at all except my eyes. What I saw when I looked around scared me beyond any kind of fear I had ever known.
The entire city was frozen, still, not moving at all. Clouds of exhaust behind cars hung in the air like foul decoration for a twisted party. People didn’t move, cigarettes tossed out were locked in time. Pigeons were in mid-flight, people’s faces were frozen in odd configurations of conversation or yawning or yelling. It was as if somebody had pushed the pause button on the entire world. I was surprised my mind could handle this without turning to jelly.

“That’s actually my fault.” The young man said, moving as freely as I had a second ago. “I helped your mind process this without snapping. I realize this is all very melodramatic but after centuries of doing this I grew tired of the subtle approach. This has been my most effective demonstration but when I first attempted it half my clients turned into gyrating gibberish monkeys. Once I figured out the wiring of the brain I could help process what the person was seeing. You may be totally freaked but you won’t snap, trust me.”

I had no response, how could I? In the blink of an eye everything I had known, believed and understood about the universe was turned on its ear. My whole life would be different now and this was also the first time my father hadn’t been front and center in my brain. Was this real or a massive hallucination brought about by stress?

“It’s no hallucination. Look I’m going to unfreeze you but if you start screaming or try and hit me again we’ll just forget the whole thing.”

The young man touched me and I collapsed to the ground. I shook my head vigorously but nothing had changed, the world was still on pause. Resigned to my fate I stood up and brushed myself off.

“Who the fuck are you?” I asked, trying not to panic.

“I don’t have a name, you can call me whatever you want. I had a man call me Wolverine once, that was weird.”

“Ok if you have no name then maybe you can tell me what’s going on”

“I’m sure you’ve worked out that I’m not your average cookie and cake fan.” He laughed. “I’m what you’d call a facilitator, I help prepare people for death, let them go with out fear.”

“Uh huh.” Was all I could say. “So I’m dead?”

“Oh Mark.” He seemed disappointed. “No foolish man not at all. I’m here to help your father but it isn’t going as well as I’d hoped.”

“Uh huh.” I mustered again. “I will have that smoke.”

“Good man.” He said tilting the smoke back out to me.

I lit up and dragged hard on it. I didn’t cough or throw up I just felt that tingle that only nicotine can provide. I began to relax and as fear dissipated questions started rising up. My father? A facilitator? Was this God’s work? Was there a God? Did this mean I was dying to?

“Not at all.” He said, reading my mind again. “You’re not dying. There is a God though I hate using that word because it’s a sad mortal understanding of how the afterlife works. The Universe is like a giant school. Each life is in a grade, learning to better themselves so they can move on to the next grade.”

“Is there a graduation.” I spit out.

“No, you’re not understanding me but that’s OK it isn’t the point.” He seemed amused at my ignorance.

“Are these other people aware they’ve been, y’know, frozen?” I asked.

“No, nobody is aware right now but you and I. We’re between the fabric of time happening just outside of it. As far as these people know nothing is going on.”

“What does this have to do with my father?”

“Well as you know your father is dying and I’m here to help him move on but he doesn’t want to. He won’t accept his death and a lot of that has to do with not wanting to leave you. I’m here for your help actually, so that he can die with no fear. Fear when you die is more traumatizing than you’d care to understand. So much so a whole section of the universe is dedicated to helping mortals with it.”

“Well if he doesn’t want to die then maybe it isn’t his time.” His matter-of-fact tone about the death of my father was starting annoy me.

“No, his time is up, he is due to move to another world. That’s just how it works out for him.”

“What if you’re wrong? What if he’s refusing because he knows better that….”

“He doesn’t know better.” He interrupted. “His death is not a matter of argument it is simply something that is happening and..”

“STOP THAT!!” I said, slamming the young man against the door of the hospital. “Stop talking about him like he’s a goddamn statistic. I refuse to let some universal public servant talk about him that way!”

“Are you quite finished?” He said staring at me seemingly bored. “We have no time for this. Your father will die, how he dies is your choice so make it and let me get on with my work.”

“My choice?” I said as I backed off of him.

“Yes, your choice. The only reason I’ve allowed you to see all of this is because I believe you are the key to helping him accept his death. The long and short of it is that he knows you can’t accept him dying so he won’t either. Now whether he accepts it and dies at peace or doesn’t and gets ripped from his body is entirely up to you letting him go. I’m here to help that happen.”

“I never wanted him to suffer, ever. I always said if death brought him comfort then….”

“That’s a lie.” He said flatly. “Nobody means that when they say it. Humans simply can’t be that magnanimous.”

I began to boil over with rage. I just wanted to punch this cherub face into something bloody and unrecognizable. I was burning holes through him with my eyes but his look never changed. He was examining me, waiting for my response. I began to realize that all of this anger wasn’t directed at him, not all of it anyway. Somewhere deep down I knew he was right, I didn’t want my father to die and at the same time the burden of having him alive was depressing me. I could feel the tension in my face turn to something akin to guilt.

“That’s a lot of guilt to hold onto.” He said soothingly. “For no reason.”

“Am I an awful son.” I said for no reason. “God I am, I’m an awful son.”

“MARK!!” His yelling startled me. “We don’t have time for this right now so try and focus. As much of a cunt as I seem like it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t spend all my time on you and your father alone so what will it be?”

When the elevator opened I half expected to remain invisible to the world but whatever this man had done was over now. The nurse’s nodded casual hellos to me, the patients followed both of us with their eyes and everything seemed to be business as usual. I had never thought about what would happen if I met some other worldly creature but I know I didn’t think it would be this, I don’t know, common. We moved quickly through the hallways and made our way to my father’s door.

“Before we go in.” I said. “Do you have a name? I’d rather not refer to you as ‘Hey You’.”

“Daniel.” He said.

“Daniel? That’s funny I….”

“Picked that name out if you ever have a son, I know. I figure it’ll be easier to use than my real name.”

“Fair enough. Is this going to scare my Dad or anything?”

“Let’s end the suspense.” He smiled at me.

I opened the door and stepped into my father’s room waiting for the smell of sweat and medicine to fill my nostrils as it always did. Instead there was no smell, nothing at all that even registered. I was only half way through figuring out that mystery when I saw my father and my heart nearly quit. It was my dad but not the sickly dying man I had been tending to, this was my father as I remembered him. He was standing straight, his longish salt and pepper hair was full again and his matching beard was no longer the scraggily chin whiskers of a dying man. He was also dressed which I hadn’t seen since we arrived in the hospital. It had been so many months of hospital gowns I barely recognized him in his favorite suit.

My father had a favorite suit that he’d worn everywhere he could for as long as I could remember. It consisted of dark slacks, shined loafers, a solid shirt and a red bow tie with blue dots. A blue blazer glasses he had found at a garage sale and a handkerchief that matched the bow tie. The last time I had seen him in this suit was five years ago when his play opened. It was shortly after that he had been diagnosed with AIDS. I could make the argument that was the last time my father knew true happiness.

I don’t know how long I stood there staring at him before he turned and smiled at me. He was so healthy looking; so full of life, so much the man I had grown up with. I rushed into his arms and hugged him tighter than I had ever dared since he became ill. I could feel his warmth around me and the familiar smells of his aftershave filled my head. I started crying again in his shoulder, holding him tighter and tighter. I was no longer the crisp adult who had long since learned to check his emotions. I was a little boy who didn’t want his father to leave.

“Don’t cry boo boo.” He said kissing the top of my head.

“Oh god I hate that name.” I said laughing through my tears.

I moved away from his embrace and looked at him again. His eyes flickered with the light that had made him so memorable. The twinkle in my father eyes mixed with this face that always seemed like it would burst forth with a huge smile had brought him so much love. Everybody loved my father and loved him in a way my anger and bitterness had thwarted me from ever knowing.

“Are you two ready?” Daniel said softly.

“Oh Mark you’ve met the angel.” My father said.

“Angel?” I said, confused.

“Him.” Dad pointed at Daniel. “He came to me last night and told me this day was coming. It’s nice to meet you finally..um?”

“Daniel. It’s a great pleasure to meet you as well sir.” He shook my father’s hand. “Shall we begin then?”

“Of course.” My father said, taking hold of my hand.

“So what happens now?” I asked.

“We’re going to take a trip.” Daniel said.

My father smiled and nodded turning back to look out the window. I looked at Daniel with my head cocked and he smiled.

“People see me as they need to. I read the subconscious mind and present myself in that way. Your father has always been deeply spiritual so I appeared as an angel.”

“But he’s not religious.” I said confused.

“Religion is not spirituality Mark. We’ve been waiting for mortals to figure that out for the longest time.”

“An angel though? Like wings and halo and all that?”

“He wanted to see that, you for some reason wanted me to look like a member of The Cure. I don’t explain I just accept it. Can we go now?”

“Sure thing, you’re the angel.” I almost laughed.

“Thank you.” He nudged me closer to my father. “This is very simple you both just close your eyes and I’ll do the rest. The only thing I ask is that you don’t open your eyes until I tell you.”

“Why?” I asked, closing my eyes.

“You wouldn’t understand. I don’t mean that in a harsh way I mean it quite literally. If you see things during the journey you won’t understand them so eyes shut please.”

“Of course. Mark stop arguing.” My dad grabbed my hand again.

I apologized and shut my eyes. At first I felt nothing but soon comforting warmth began caressing me and then pushing through my skin. It was a feeling I have never been able to accurately describe other than to say it felt like the best day you’ve ever had in your life times 1000. It happened quickly and then I heard the sounds of the Ocean crashing hard on the surf. I opened my eyes and we were at a beach.

It was empty save for the seagulls and us. The wind was soft from off the water and it mixed with the warmth beating down off of the sun. I looked at my father and he was just staring at the Ocean drinking it all in. Daniel stood right behind us watching as my father crept closer to the edge of the water.

“I recognize this place.” I said suddenly. “This is Cape Cod, the beach at the bottom of the huge sand dune. I haven’t been here in 20 years.”

“It’s beautiful here.” Daniel said moving next to me.

“The water is perfect.” My father said bent on one knee running his hand back and forth across the water’s surface. “I’m going in.”

Before I could protest my father was removing his clothes strewing them hap-hazard across the sand. I put my hand over my eyes to get a better look at what he was doing but all I saw was a splash and then my father swimming out into the Ocean. Daniel laughed. It was an oddly comforting laugh that made me feel better. I wondered if he had done it one purpose.

“Your father loves the Ocean doesn’t he?” Daniel said.

“Always has.” I replied “He spent two summers on a fishing boat in his teens and never lost the love for it.”

“Mark you have to come in.” My dad yelled waving. “It’s perfect.”

“Go on in.” Daniel said.

I stood watching my father swimming for what seemed like forever. He would backstroke then dive down and erupt from the water splashing water around and laughing the entire time. I thought about the first time my dad went swimming with his first boyfriend, Rodney, I was 14 and humiliated. I sat on the beach on a grey afternoon and watched them have all the fun.

At the time I couldn’t believe it was happening to me, my father was gay. I hated him for that for such a long time. As I got older I hated myself for hating him being gay, I was always good at heaping hate onto myself for something. It was easier than guilt, which forced you to examine the world around you. Hate allowed you to be the victim and that was so much easier.

“You’re over thinking this.” Daniel’s voice derailed my train of thought.

If you asked me why I did what I did next I don’t think I could come up with a real reason. Instead of thinking I just stripped down to my boxers and plunged into the water. It was unseasonably warm and though I was not a big swimmer I was happy to be there. I dove down as deep as I could and then let myself float in the silence. I emptied my head and just enjoyed the water until my lungs ached for air and I kicked to the surface. My dad was right next to me when I surfaced. He was floating on his back; eyes shut and face to the sun.

“I never thought I’d feel this again.” He said.

“I know Dad, I’m sorry.”

“For what.” He turned his body so he was no longer floating but treading water next to me.

“That all this is happening to you.” I said.

“Race you.”

Before I could protest my father was kicking towards the beach singing to himself. I treaded water a bit longer and then followed my father in and found him sitting on the beach next to Daniel. He was dry and, to my shock, so was I. I put on my pants and sat down next to Daniel and my father.

“I love the sunsets here.” My father said. “I remember being drunk with Rodney and watching them. He had to drag me here the first time, I wanted nothing to do with it.”

“Foolish man.” Daniel said.

“I know, so foolish.” My dad replied.

We sat for a while watching the sun slowly dip behind the horizon. I didn’t want any of this to end. It had been so long since I had seen my father strong and healthy. So many of my memories of Dad had been filled with him gaunt, weak, sick and dying. It was as if this god-awful disease had managed to spread through my good memories, leaving only these awful visions of what it had done to him. I started getting angry with myself for forgetting, for letting the disease eat up those memories.

“We should go.” Daniel said.

“What, why?” I snapped at being brought back to reality.

“Because it’s time to go.” My father said.

“We can stay for a little while longer can’t we?” I pleaded. “Another swim maybe?”

“Mark we really have to…” Daniel started

“Fuck you.” I was surprised when it lept out. “We can stay a little longer, my dad can stay a little longer. Just another swim, just another….”

“Mark.” My dad’s voice was soft but firm. “It is time for us to go.”

I looked at my father and suddenly I was 12 years old wanting to stay longer at the park. My father was in his suit, that stupid suit he loved so much and he was smiling at me. Why would he smile? What the fuck was there to smile about? When we went back he would by dying again, sick and weak. Why the rush to go back to that? Was nobody thinking about what waiting for us back there?

“Of course we are.” Daniel said.

“Stop that!” I shouted. “ I don’t need you in my head.”

“We have one more place we need to go Mark.” Daniel said softly.

Daniel and my father stared at me just waiting. If it took an hour or a year they were going to wait, not push, just wait. I started having insane little thoughts all at once. I found myself scanning the beach for something to build a shelter out of, then wondering if I could find work here, then suddenly I was planning an irrigation site to get us running water. I stood paralyzed while the two sides of my brain fought each other. The logical side of my brain was arguing to leave. I was glad he was back; ever since the journey started my logic side had taken an extended coffee break.

“Fine.” I spat out. The illogical side of your brain is like a child. It’s loud and persuasive but tires out quickly. I had a headache and I really needed a smoke. I shrugged a final defeated shrug and joined them.

Daniel turned us around and faced us towards the bright yellow sun. My father closed his eyes and, I just stared at the sandy ground trying to figure out why I was so angry. Sure I was pissed at Daniel for making us leave but that wasn’t it, that wasn’t all of it. I hated puzzles, I always had. I had no patience when it came to figuring things out and my frustration level went from zero to three hundred and sixty in two seconds. Even so I was always good at knowing when what I thought I was mad at wasn’t really what I was mad it. If you think that all sounds confusing try having it happening in your brain.

I heard Daniel give the “close eyes” warning and felt him grab my shoulder. I felt my father take my hand and without realizing it I jerked away. I wanted to say something but I felt the world go hazy and I shut my eyes tight against whatever it was Daniel was protecting us from. This time it was harder though, this time I felt warmth and a light that I hadn’t before. It was so drawn to it I had to fight my eyes to stay shut. I began thinking about horrible things that would happen if I opened my eyes.

Wolves would eat all my friends, if I opened my eyes.

A bomb would go off in an orphanage, if I opened my eyes.

God would reveal himself to be nothing but a marketing scheme, if I opened my eyes.

I was on my sixth or seventh idea when Daniel lifted his hand from my shoulder and I opened my eyes. What I saw caused my breath to draw in harshly and my mouth to drop open. The three of us were standing in a large graveyard, next to a giant Sycamore tree that cast a far-reaching shadow across the yard. My father was already walking towards a cluster of headstones as if he knew where we were. I didn’t need this I couldn’t stand this now. I turned to face Daniel who was sitting under the tree watching my father.

“Go join him Mark.” Daniel said not looking at me.

“What are we doing in a goddamn graveyard?” I shouted.

“You curse a lot.” Daniel said smiling. “Sign of a lack of vocabulary.”

“Oh really? OK then how about this; fuck you, you asshole, why the shit cunt are we in a goddamn graveyard?”

“Ask your father.” Daniel said as if he was growing bored with me.

“I’m asking you.” I shot back

“I don’t have any answers Mark. Your father wanted to come here and so here we are. Y’know this trip doesn’t last forever.”

“What does that mean.”

“It means.” He said sighing. “That I’m not the one you should be talking to.”

Daniel motioned to my father with a “get it stupid” look on his face, which ticked me off even more. I turned on my heels and headed out after my father. I could see him even with the glare of the sun kneeling in front of a headstone that had a stone vase with dead flowers and a tacky stone angel atop of it. As I stepped out of the shadow of the Sycamore tree the place became more familiar to me. I couldn’t place it exactly but the sounds and smells were triggering something.

It wasn’t altogether pleasant but it wasn’t bad either. I took huge breathes through my nose trying to give my brain what it needed to decipher these smells. Flowers, dew, freshly cut grass, and humidity were some of the factors but there were other things. Things that made this place unique and familiar but not a firm memory. I reached my father, standing just over him facing the gravestone. It read simply: THOMAS WESTON with his birth date and a black space for his death. It also read BELOVED FATHER. I knew where we were instantly.

“This is Bastrop isn’t it?” I snapped.

“Bastrop Louisiana USA.” My father said proudly.

“Why are we here?” I started looking around nervously. I hated it here.

“I wanted to see it in the summer one last time.” My father stood up. “This is how I grew up, hot summer days in the south.”

“I know. Iced tea, mama’s porch, and the attic fan. Nobody could romanticize the south like you could pop.” My tone oozed with bitter sarcasm.

“Why do you hate it here so much?” He snapped.

“I don’t know. I don’t, it’s great, it’s a great place to grow up I guess.”

“Don’t patronize me Mark, I asked a simple question.” This had always been an issue with my father and I.

“I don’t know dad, I never thought about it.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He was getting angry. My father’s left eye only twitched when he was angry or eating. For some reason I was struck with the image of my dad eating when I was young and how freaky his twitching eye had been to me. My father stood silently, his eye twitching, sweating in the sunlight.

“What do you wanna hear?” I blurted out. “That I love this place? That I was wrong? That I have the same yee-haw back country love for this hole in the world that you do?”

“Is that it?” My father’s anger had eased; honesty usually did that for him.

“I don’t know pop, pick a reason. Years spent banished down here for the summer so your sister and the rest of that goddamn freak show could hammer into me that I was going to burn in hell for such unforgivable sins as loving Star Wars and living in New York? I was eight, I had never thought about an eternal lake of fire. My biggest fear was that you guys might leave me at the beach. Eternal torture by fire had never entered my mind.”

“I know, I hate that it happened to you.” Dad stepped towards me.

“BULLSHIT!!” I said it louder than I had wanted to. “You grew up down here. Fucking hell you grew up as a closeted fucking gay man down here. You knew what this place was, you knew how they were, you knew but you didn’t care. You wanted everybody to have the front porch and honeysuckle dew smell orgasm you did about this place. If I didn’t well then fucking hell too bad I was going to learn to love it.”

“Oh now you’re being melodramatic. My father snapped.

“Melodramatic? Are you kidding? How can you stand there and say that?” I laid on a mocking southern tone. “You smell tha hunnydew in tha ahhir and how mamma snapped green beans uhn da pawch as ice tea brewed in da back kiichuun undah tha attic fan.”

“That’s not fair.” Dad was relenting now.

“It is fair.” I said quietly and normally. “You smelled honeydew and I smelled that god awful paper factory. You saw mamma snapping green beans and I watched Grandma stand by and let these religious zeligs brow beat me with fear. I had no connection or love for this place, to me it was hot, sweaty and I was either ridiculed for being bad at sports or told I was going to burn in hell.”

My father didn’t respond, instead he just looked at me and leaned against a gravestone. He held his head for a while and then looked back up at me.

“Why do you hate it now?” He said quietly. “You haven’t been here in years, you have no connection to this place. Why do you hate it so much now?”

“You don’t know?” I asked. “Really?”

My father shook his head .
“Nevermind.” I suddenly didn’t want to make the point.

“He’s upset you’re being buried here.” I had almost forgotten about Daniel.

“What?” My father looked at Daniel than at me.

“Look forget it.” I said. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“It does matter, it matters to me.”

Daniel moved to just outside the little V my father and I had created. He brushed his hair out of his face and leaned against a tree. The next three minutes was a silence, one of those silences they go on about in books where you can hear a pin drop. I’d never experienced a silence like this so somewhere, even with all of this going on, I cataloged that feeling to be recalled at another time. Daniel leaned forward a bit and scrunched his eyes, as if he was getting annoyed with the entire thing.

“Mark we are on kind of a time table here. This would be much easier if you’d just spit it out and move on. Your father needs to…..”

“DON’T YOU TELL ME WHAT MY FATHER NEEDS!!” I screamed, flood gates burst, shit this was going to be bad.

“I’m so sick and fucking tired of everybody telling me what my father needs or I need or how the fuck I should deal with this. Deal with it? Deal with it? I deal with this every fucking day, day in and day out, me, just me only me!! I come to the hospital, I deal with nurses and doctors and insurance and get lunch and soda and bring movies. I give myself a goddamn Irish shower so I can stay overnight and then go to work. I do this, I take care of him because he’s my father and I love him and he suffers and it’s all I can do to try and make it as easy on him as I can. Then what? Then these redneck Bible thumping assholes show up, these people who did nothing my whole life but rage and scream about my 8 year old eternal soul burning forever. These cretins who look down on my father because of who he is come sweeping in and decide that he’ll be buried down in here in this shit hole and he agrees?

You agreed to it dad, you said OK you fucking told them you wanted to be buried in a place you ran screaming from. Sorry Mark, thanks for all the hard work but fuck off I’m down here with the snapping peas, iced tea and ceiling fans. Do you have any idea what that does to a person, how that makes me fucking feel!!”

I was breathing in to make another point when I heard my father crying, a sound I hadn’t heard in a long time. My father wasn’t a crier, not for any macho way but he always just felt it was giving up. As if you’d tried everything and there was nothing left to do but sob and wait for the fates to smother you. The only time my father was a big crier was during the good times. Tears of joy he had called them when I was young. These were not tears of joy.

“See” Daniel said. “Was that so hard?”

“Not a lot of friends back home huh Daniel?” My rage had subsided into wit, which was worse in most cases. “I’m sorry pop, I shouldn’t have..”

“No.” He cut me off. “You should have, and I’m glad you did.” He paused. “It was the most arrogant and selfish thing I’ve heard in a long time but I’m glad you got it off your chest.”

“Excuse me?” I said, flames of righteous indignation began to burn.

“You heard me.” My father said, tears drying up, angry voice coming out. “I don’t know if anybody clued you in on this Mark but I’m dying. I’m not only dying I’m dying slowly and in awful pain most of the time. This isn’t about you Mark do you understand that? I hate to sound this way but this is about me, what I want when I die, where I want to be buried, where I want to be at peace. Not about your lack of visitation rights.”

“I never said…”

“Mark.” He cut me off again. “Let’s be honest about this. After I die you will come visit my grave two or three times a week. Then that will fall to once a week, then once a month and so forth until the only day you come in my birthday. That doesn’t make you a bad person that’s just how people are. I don’t want that, I don’t want to be a forgotten plot in a giant field. Here I’ll be under a Sycamore tree, in the place I grew up with your Ma’maw out everyday to visit me. With you my memory will live forever in your heart and you carry that where ever you go. You don’t need me to be up there but I need, I need to rest down here."

“You want to be buried here?” I was shocked. “You ran from this place screaming, you couldn’t get far enough away. “

“Things change Mark.” My father said grabbing my shoulders from behind. “I was young, I was gay and I wasn’t happy. I needed to escape the hold of this place and make my own life but I couldn’t even do that. I got all the way to New York and still married your mother, still tried to become what I was trying to get away from. Don’t get me wrong I fell in love with your mother and if not for her I would never have had you. You were the only non-polluted thing to come out of that whole mess, a mess I largely created. I knew I wasn’t going to stay with your mother, hell she knew that but I was still trying to please other people. Even with my melodramatic exit from the South I still didn’t escape what was really wrong.

All of that shit came later. It took me years to be happy with who I was, years before I could even be honest with you about it and that was wrong on my part. I left you with so many questions about what was going on with me because I was afraid if I told you the truth you’d turn your back on me.”

“I didn’t.” I said, noticing for the first time I was crying to.

“No.” He continued. “You didn’t and that was one of my proudest moments, one of those times I knew your mother and I had raised you the right way. Once all of that venom had gone, once I purged myself of that entire mess I could look at the South again. I could see how it shaped me, what it was both good and bad. It’s why I wrote about it so much, why all my work comes from there. I’m going home Mark, because I want to.”

He finished and I couldn’t speak, I could barely even breathe. Something in me moved, lurched forward like a clumsy child and came pouring out. I was crying, crying so hard the world was drowned out. I didn’t know when my father had turned me around just suddenly that he was holding me. I sobbed and sobbed and tried to figure out where it was all coming from. Did I hate the South that much? Yes, yes I did. Did I hate my father wanting to be buried down here? No, not so much.

Trying to be reasonable when you’re crying like this is next to impossible. Every time your brain tries to signal a rational thought it’s drowned out by the uncontrollable sobs. I found myself rationally becoming annoyed with the side of me that wouldn’t stop crying. I knew a headache would follow, maybe nausea, something uncomfortable would come from this much crying. I couldn’t stop it through rational thought so my brain started declassifying things. It tore through the bullshit, the reasons, the logic and tried to find the base root of all of this crying. Finally, after much deliberation my brain found what it was looking for.

I didn’t want my dad to go.

It sounds simple, stupid even. I knew my dad was going, he’d been sick for years, even had a few close calls when all seemed lost. I knew he was going to die, I knew it but that wasn’t what this was. This was accepting it, allowing my brain to wrap around the fact that my father would be gone forever. I had roughly another forty years on this planet and he would not be around for any of them. There would come a point in my life when I had been without him longer than I had been with him. He was going, really going, not coming back and I could do nothing about it. My vast humor, wit and intelligence couldn’t change anything. Dad was going away forever, and that was all there was to it.

“Mark?” I heard a voice reaching through all of this and I grabbed it. My father’s voice brought me back into reality and I straightened myself up. My head was pounding, my face was hot and my eyes hurt but I actually felt OK. I looked at my father, was smiling. That stupid bow-tie glinting off the sun.

“I’m sorry dad.” Was all I could squeak out.

“Don’t be, ever. You’re a wonderful son, you always have been. I will miss you so much when I’m gone but I can at least go knowing I had a small part in making you so good.”

I wanted to say something but nothing came to mind, it all sounded so trivial at that point. Instead I smiled at my father and saw for the first time more than just his dying, I saw the man who had raised me and I found the joy in having known him at all.

“We have to go.” A quiet voice said.

Daniel was standing between us again looking solemn but happy. My father and I turned to face the sun and Daniel took both out shoulders. I felt the warmth creep over me again and that feeling of having the best day of your life. I don’t know why I did what I did next and I probably never will know. I opened my eyes, just for an instant, just to see what I wasn’t supposed to see.

I can’t tell you what I saw because you wouldn’t understand. I don’t mean that as a put down, I mean it honestly. I could spend every night for 100 years trying to organize my thoughts into a cohesive description and I’d fail. It was over before I knew it and I was back at the hospital staring out the window. My father was back to what he had been before this trip, gaunt and sickly, laying in bed breathing with the help of an oxygen mask.

“I can’t believe you opened your eyes.” Daniel said, standing next to me.

“I didn’t mean to.” I said.

“Bullshit.” Daniel retorted, smiling. “What did you see?”

“I couldn’t describe it, I’m not that smart. Whatever it was it made me feel…I don’t know…better? Is that the right word even? I guess it is, I guess that works. It made me feel better, as if all the other stuff fell away and I was shown what actually did matter.”

“So what matters?” Daniel asked.

“I can’t say, it’s just a feeling really. It’s a good feeling though. I feel better than I have in a long time.” I looked over at my father.

“You did well Mark, his passing will be quiet and filled with warmth. Not a lot of people can let go, you did well.”

“I guess. I still hate that he’s leaving me, I still hate that he has to die. I even still curse God for taking him away from me.”

“Interesting idea from a confirmed Atheist.” Daniel laughed. He had a strong laugh, long and drawn out. I would never have expected it from him. “Don’t worry Mark, this wasn’t a cure all, just something to help you move on.”

“You leaving?” I asked.

“I am.”

With that he was gone and I was alone in the room with my father. I said a quiet thank you and finished watching the sun vanish behind the skyline. I walked over to my father’s bed and switched the TV on low. I sat down in a chair and started watching some cop show. Things were running through my head so quickly. I needed to work things out with my mom. I needed to call my grandmother. I had to figure out the insurance issues and then talk to the doctors again. I had a lot to do, a lot to take care of.

Mostly though, I was going to hang out with my Dad.