Dorkgasm Gonzo Is God

Well I believe it's safe to say we're all fucked, fictional characters are coming to life and assimilating with us all, RUN LIKE HELL!

Hey everybody, it's your old pal Haggard Ass J. I know some of you have been wondering (Ken and Mike, but hopefully more, fuck, a dork can dream can't he??) what good ol' HAJ has been up to, well here's the fat and skinny...

     The Hangover is very much a case of the little movie that could. With a crude, smaller budget film like this, no one really expected too much out of it. Even Lindsay Lohan turned down a part because she did not think it was ever going to go anywhere. Surprisingly, The Hangover turned out to be one of the biggest hits of 2009, raking in scads of cash and assuring a career for everyone involved. I have a little history going into The Hangover. I saw it in the theater and was not terribly amused. I thought the acting was sub-par, the plot ludicrous, and the humor dumbed down to the point of being retarded. However, then I saw it again.

     When I originally heard that they were making a new movie based upon my favorite literary detective of all time, I initially had a mild spot of trepidation. I had seen most, if not all, of the previous incarnations and felt they all lacked something crucial. Then, I heard two crucial bits of news; Guy Ritchie was directing the movie and Robert Downey Jr. was playing Sherlock Holmes. My initial fears began to solidify at this point. Here was a director known for his London crime exploits and a Yankee playing a Brit! However as trailers and on-set pictures began to leak out, my mind began to convince me that this could be a joyous experience. Fortunately, I was not let down.

I remember well The Days Before Video Games. I remember frolicking along the Snake River, which wasn't actually the Snake River, but such things matter not to little boys. I remember finding different ways to bash myself against the ground at high speed involving tree swings, old Schwinn's, and just leaping into open space. I remember the dark winter night times that began almost as soon as I got off the bus from Pullman to our little old house in Albion. I remember games of push-pull in a field of thistles and nettles on the other side of the creek (or perhaps 'crick' depending on your geographic preference) that ran through our back yard. I remember Cub Scouts, and knot-work, and fire starting, and camping, and staring at the stars while wondering if the one that was moving was a satellite or if the aliens had finally come to take me away.

I remember the brief, distant rumble one morning as everything changed. I remember feeling something like that only once before in my life, when I was at my father's house and a brief tremor had rocked his small California town. The way the knick-knacks on a shelf nearby trembled, and how my stomach felt all funny. Then it had gone, just like it had in the shower that morning on May 18th, 1980. The day started normally, I went outside, played with my friends in the mud and the dirt and the thistles, coming home for lunch at about noon. A few hearty PBnJs later, there was a knock at the door. A mailman had a package for me, and like any youth-abiding lad I tore into it with all the gusto of Bill Gates ripping into an upstart computer company. I took it apart, packaging peanuts flying hither and thither, to uncover the treasure within: An Atari 2600.

With the recent surge in vampire fiction lately it is hard to know what titles are actually going to be worth it and which ones should be placed in the circular file with all of their shimmery goodness. Barb Hendee’s Hunting Memories is one of those stories I can actually encourage you to take the time to read. Not only because it is a far superior work to some of the vampire work (coughtwilightcough) out there, but because it is innovative and fun all on it’s own.