Where’s my Viscera?

Where’s my Viscera?

This time last year I was writing for a horror web site.  It was quietly acclaimed as one of the UK’s foremost, none franchised, horror review sites.  It still is.

I don’t mention this for props or respect.  I actually have nothing to do with the acclaim or reputation.  I only bring it up to hint at the fact that I may have half a clue about…  Nah, yer right.  That was totally an ego trip.


That said… WHERE IS MY BLOOD??!!




Horror seems to have taken a few steps back from mainstream media over the last couple of years.  This is pretty shabby.  I will openly confess that I have a pretty crap short term memory.  This is weakened even further by booze.  And I do tend to drink when I sit down to watch a film (and quite possibly for a short while beforehand).

But the most recent horror film that I thought enough of to remember having seen was ‘Cabin in the Woods’.  And that was two years ago.

(I just took a small break to google ‘horror 2014’ and ‘horror 2013’.  A few popped up that I recognised.  But only one made me think, ‘ok, that was quite good’.  Two years and only one film really hit my radar.  Again, I feel the need to confess.  There have been other films that caught my eye.  And some of them WAY nastier than ‘Cabin…’.  And yet ‘Cabin…’ is the name I remember).

Yes, I will openly confess.  I could have gone hunting further for my blood splattery fix.  But if you go looking for a scare, a shock, a jump… surely you are expecting it…  Craving it.  And as such it is only pandering to your pre-expected need.

But you won’t have those beautiful moments…  Like when a friend and I went to watch ‘Pet Sematary’.  I knew she was strong, confident and (if you didn’t know her) a little intimidating.  I didn’t know that she was easily scared by scary films.

We were sitting there happily enjoying the film up until the point that [SPOILER WARNING] the dead fella dropped through the loft hatch [SPOILER OVER.  YOU CAN OPEN YOUR EYES NOW].  I am told that this was a shocking and scary moment.  I’m sure it was.  But all I remember of it was watching them creep down the corridor, an orchestrially augmented BANG, and a view of the ceiling of the cinema.

My friend was startled.  So she grabbed the first thing she could find, and hid behind it.  Unfortunately, that ‘first thing’ was my leg.  She hugged my thigh and hid her face behind my knee.  So we both missed the scary bit.  Sarah, because she was pressing her face into my jeans.  Me, cos I was in an unanticipated and rather uncomfortable position which involved me being around 90 degrees from your expected orientation in a cinema…  slowly realising that the gloomy vista in front of you is not the screen.  And that someone is biting your knee.


This is shit that you can’t make up.  Trust me on this.


Anyway…  I miss the 80’s movies, when every other film would tear off a limb or rip out a throat.  It wasn’t necessarily relevant to the plot.  It may not even be well done.  But it was done with heart and soul and the futile hope that it would shock.

No.  This cannot be the end of the scare.  And I do mean the scare, not the shock.  The early Saw films did the shock well (even if it was a rip of the shocks of Se7en).  I’m talking about the ones that had you perched on the edge of the sofa, biting the duvet or pushing your beloved towards the screen so they got eaten first…


I want this again.  Do I have to go back to the John Carpenter back catalogue again?


 There has been some stuff that achieved the ‘WHAT THE…’  But film and TV has not really stepped up in the last couple of years.

There are a couple of games that have been released for the season of the spooky.  Maybe one of them will save us from mundane sit-coms.

But so far…  for me, this Halloween is so far shockingly lacking in shock.  And I haven’t had my knee bitten in years.


I hope your All Hallows made you scream and cry for all the right reasons.



Everything is awry as usual – Nothing new under that sun

Everything is awry as usual – Nothing new under that sun

I am trying to tell myself something and I slowly understand what it is… or at least I know that it is in a readable and or audible language. Have you ever felt like your own thoughts were impossible to put into words or simply being incapable to put words on something you already have a deeper understanding off?

Tonight’s subject is far from new, but it is still close to my heart… or my day if anything… I will put in a translation of each line as my art form of tonight is limericks.

I mean art form in the broadest term as can possibly be measured, but hey… we are all having fun here, why bicker?

A little introduction to the shaping of this hullabaloe. My plan was to find a way to turn anger into fun through context instead of content.

Without further ado! 4 verses and a bow:

I now share this righteous oration __________ I will tell you about my virtuous story
Of trivial and narquois occasion _____________ It is a mocking tale we heard before
It tears me asunder _______________________ It touches me deeply
Repeating a blunder ________________________ That I didn’t learn anything by it
I show you this crude indignation _______________ A poorly unjust presentation

Strained by this juxtaposition ______________ Torn between these feelings are tiresome
Inclined for a predisposition _________________ For all that I’ve done I can say this
I mean them all well ________________________ I don’t mind them as people
As they ride off to hell ________________________ But their work ethics are rotten to the core
I even pay price of admission ____________________ Even I am not above schadenfreude

I have no right feeling irate _________________ Not my place to be angry
Berating is not for debate ____________________ Not the place to talk about other people
Room for demology __________________________ We should use our time to study each other
Or dendrochronology __________________________ I will learn more studying the age of a tree
I promise my tongue is abate _____________________ I think I have reached the thin red line

A alamort state of alate _____________________ Feeling half dead of late
My thoughts me now asphyxiate _______________ These thoughts suffocate me
I yell Jactitation _____________________________ I want just want them to wake up and work
A realization _________________________________ But I finally come to the conclusion
Pursue one before it is too late ____ Seek elsewhere when innovation and management stagnates




Say it out loud – PROPAGANDA – taste it, feel it, think about it. What is your first association? Music? Food, clothes, night clubs, fun? Mine is lies. Deceitful lies, which are produced by people who wish to hide the truth from you.

I grew up in Norway, France, England and the US (Florida) – in what I thought was the civilized world. I thought so because I was told so. I grew up with racial riots in Ft. Lauderdale, Maggie, the Falklands war, minor’s strikes, and Brixton riots (never EVER look directly at a skinhead cos he will kill you if you do). I went to a private Christian school in Ft. Lauderdale with my best friend Amy (who was 3 minutes older than myself and never let me forget it), a private, Christian girl’s school in Selsdon and eventually ended up in a culture shocking children’s school in Norway. (It was pretty bad and took me years to digest that moving from the rest of the world to Norway would cause such damage to me).

I learned about WWI and WWII and everything was pretty clear-cut. Germans = Nazis = bad guys. Soviets = commies = were-good-then-turned-bad. Jews = genocide = 6 million dead. Seriously, 6 million dead, that’s like 1.5 times Norway’s entire population! How could they do this??? East block = commies = cold war = threat of nuclear war. Commies lived in huge grey buildings with hundreds of flats (except the military and political leaders who lived in enormous mansions and had their dachas and smoked Cuban cigars) and they lived on bread and vodka and horrible vegetables and were fed lies about the West, they had enormous military parades and sent animals into outer space and were pretty horrible.

I was 13 when the Chornobyl accident happened, 17 when the Ceacescus were executed and the Berlin Wall fell. By this time I’d become politically active against all things evil, was a member of Amnesty, demonstrated against the (first) Gulf War and nazis and for Palestine and the Zapatistas, later on was active in anti-fascist and anti-Nazi movements and thought I knew it all. Cos in the West, we had no propaganda, we were told the truth and nothing but the truth so help me God.

I knew nothing.

In the past three years I have had the pleasure of travelling to Poland and Ukraine on several occasions, and I have made many friends from the former East Bloc countries. The first time I went to Kyiv, I wasn’t really expecting much – actually I didn’t know what to expect – but it certainly wasn’t what met me. A beautiful city with wide streets and amazing architecture, parks and trees everywhere, helpful, generous and well-dressed people all over. Never before had I felt so safe in a place with more than five people. And although there were some “Soviet-style” buildings, they weren’t grey at all, and were surrounded by parks and green areas.

Since that first visit, I have visited museums all over Ukraine and realised that we in the West were also fed propaganda. Not only about how “they” lived, but everything. I’ll admit that even Soviet hid the truth about the Holodomor where up to 10 million Ukrainians were starved to death by Stalin (interestingly enough, Norwegian humanitarian and Nobel Peace Prize laureate Fritjof Nansen was one of the few who attempted to help the Ukrainians but Norway does not recognize Holodomor as a genocide), but I don’t think we were told that 26.6 million Soviet citizens died during WWII. Included in this figure are 7 million Ukrainians and 2 million Jews.

I've realised that I know nothing. I am also a victim of propaganda. Propaganda makes history easy, accessible, black and white. I'm not even going to mention Bandera. Interestingly enough, "all sides" are using him against the opposition.

Life isn't black and white. History isn't black and white. If someone tries to teach you black'n'white history – don't accept it as the truth, but rather as one part of a many-sided conflict. As for myself? I try to forget everything I've been taught by (western) history teachers and try to accept that the world is a gazillion shades of grey.

And if you're going to listen to Propaganda, try this one.

Reflections: Just stop. Stop!

Reflections: Just stop. Stop!

Guys! Girls! Did you see this?


Representing the Coalition for Sanity on the Internet, I bring you this message: Just stop. Stop! There are so many things wrong with this. First of all, none of the funding are going towards the development of a potential Half-Life 3 game. It is going to advertisement directed at Valve to make them aware of the consumer demand for Half Life 3. Guys. Girls. These guys even say it themselves: Valve have always shown to listen to their customers. Everyone who ever spent three minutes on an Internet forum or one minute on Steam knows there is a huge demand for Half-Life 3. Nothing you say can do anything but to underline the clear marketing conclusion that there is a huge demand for Half-Life 3. You are not adding anything new to the debate. You are not helping Valve, and you are not part of any solution. Hence, well, you know.

Secondly, no one is entitled to Half-Life 3 and Valve is fully permitted to just not make it. And just looking at the legacy og Half-Life, who could argue that a third installment to the franchise would do anything to improve it? The first two installments were – at worst – revolutionary to the entire gaming scene, and ask yourself: Can any game ever live up to this legacy? I am sure Valve has the talent to make a worthy third Half-Life game, but looking at the legacy at stake here there is an argument to be made that it is just too large of a risk to produce anything labelled Half-Life 3. And at no point were any of us ever promised more adventures of Gordon Freeman. None of us ever contracted Valve with a third installment. Sure, I would love to see one, but consider the curious case of Duke Nukem Forever, a game that was longed for and a huge demand for, that did nothing but to destroy its own legacy. Maybe, just maybe, we would have been better off without it, and maybe, just maybe, Valve realised this for Half-Life? But more importantly: You are not entitled to a third installment. You have no rights to demand a third installment. Valve has every right never to make it, or never to publish it if they do not feel, it is unworthy of franchise. Deal with it. And move on.

Thirdly, impersonating Gabe Newell and funding harassment of the Valve employees is not the right way of achieving anything. This is insane. It is intrusive and rude to every Valve employee and if it is done in the most tasteful manner possible at best – at best! – worth a chuckle and at worst the kind of stupidity and intrusion that a judge merits a restraining order. As they say in their video, they love Valve and Half-Life. You do not do this to people you hold any love for. This is creepy and, well, evil.

Now these news are already wide spread, so in and of itself it has raised awareness and of course Valve, every employee and their mothers are aware that Half-Life 3 is a demanded title by so many people it is hard to wrap your head around, so half the marketing ploy has already been achieved, but as I stated: These two guys – Chris Salem and Kyle Mazzei – have not achieved anything that was not already known, nor will they through this campaign. What they have done is to promote a popular opinion in one of the worst possible ways imaginary. Good job guys. Meanwhile, on the plane of sane people, I hope we can all see the futility and misdirected means in this marketing stunt.

What you are funding is a 150.000$ advertisement campaign guys and girls. Did you ever stop to consider what kind of message it would send to Valve, if this campaign does not get its funding? And what consequences and future campaigns that will ensue as a consequence of a succesful campaign? Where does it end?