Having just finished this fucking philosophy thesis that has been keeping me from loving the internet like I should, a friend recommended me a recent horror film called The Ruins. And it wasn’t bad. To start with, it had that guy from 100 Girls, which is favourite b-grade, pseudo-intellectual teen comedy of all time. I mean, that’s good, but it’s not very scary. And including people from the cast of Pulse was never, ever, ever going to help the success of the movie.

But how many times do we have to sift through the same story in a different setting? The past 20 years of horror movies haven’t seen too much innovation in the genre (disregarding, of course Scream and it’s partner in crime, Scary Movie 1). Apart from an intensification of gore, the storylines consist of ‘regular’ people (just like you and me!) that somehow end up in bizarre situations where their reasonable beliefs are devoured by some supernatural or currently-unexplainable-by-our-science creature that has somehow managed to evade not only scientists but batshit insane cryptozoologists for centuries. This supernatural mystification, that giant Other lurking in the background - and it has to be the background, for how else would it be unexplainable?? - is pretty much essential as a plot device. Otherwise, how can we get scared?? How many Saw-esque movies based entirely on gritty special effects and gore scenes are we gunna have to watch before we get bored? Looking at the imdb database of top rated horror movies, the most recent horror film that sits in the top 50 seems to be Evil Dead II, the other two notable exceptions being Grindhouse and Sean of the Dead, which are both parodies of the genre in a sense. This is surely saying something. But what????

The first answer that comes from the lips of many friends: aren’t you just fucked up? This shit is brutal, man. But you’ve spent so much time on the internet and researching strange social fetish groups (religion included, of course) that you’ve become desensitized to the brutality! But the words just make me think of Metalocalypse and how funny death by metal can be. Is parody all that’s left here? We all laugh at Nazi jokes, even if the methodological slaughtering of Jews was the worst tragedy of the reasonable and industrial modern world. If parody is all that’s left, this cynical, jaded apathist won’t be disappointed - it may even be worthwhile.

But a man like myself who so often falls into inconsistent banter cannot rest content at this though - why do I keep watching if every story has been told over and over in the back of my mind? It is not true that every supposed horror film I’ve witnessed in the past few years has been full of crap. Of course it’s not. But when I think to the ones I hold in esteem, what is the link? Audition was the most recent addition to my favourites collection, and among recent non-parodical horror Cannibal Holocaust and Devil’s Rejects sits up there too, despite my not liking it at all at first. Takashi Mike has given me a few good cringes and laughs, to be honest. But it’s hardly fair to group him with other western gore/horror directors.

There’s a decent theory spinning around my mind about this: we educated westerners have forgotten how to be scared. We’ve grown so accustoms to the clichés of genre that we can predict every movement that is made on the screen. Of course the critical girl is going to die. Of course there’s going to be a male who scarifies himself in hope that some weaker character can escape, and of course there’s going to be that shot that so obviously hints that this redemptive hope can never be realised. Either that, or like the fucking bastardization of I am Legend we are presented with some ridiculous eutpoian religious salvation. And this deluded hope is obviously enough to tide over most of the people who watch movies like this. The money makers are the films that play on many people’s greatest fear: that we will not be saved from death, that there is no salvation for any of us. A few may offer a happy conclusion in some redemptive state, but the horror has been looked into; the temporary status of life, the futility of redemption. But for us educated bunch, believing something in spite of evidence is more than a little silly. Hence, our horror films are parodies of the great alien invasions or supernatural travesties of decades past.

But does this mean that there is no redemption for horror?? Are we condemned to be the reclusive ironists of the film industry? I think not. And the reason I think this is that what we know is a hell of a lot scarier than what we do not know. The recent success of the prominent new-atheist movement attest to this: the fact that there are a billion people out there who would kill you for their gods is fucking scary. The Dionysian brutality of human nature will always be scarier than whatever bullshit ’supernatural’ theme that the modern monotheistic majority can throw at us. And if this is too ‘brutal’, too fucked up for your liking, than maybe you should stick to reading your bible than watching these shitty, repetitive and unconvincing horror films.

It is a little known fact that there exists a potholed relationship between dogs and ambulances. Dogs, as we all know, chase ambulances. Popular theory states that this is due to the fact that most dogs will chase any large moving object with flashing lights and loud noises. But in reality (and ambulance drivers know this), most dogs are injured and in need of urgent medical attention. Perhaps they were abused by their previous owners, or perhaps they were all just born that way; it does not really matter. Nor does it matter to the ambulance drivers, who seldom stop to check if the dog is okay. Unconsciously or not, ambulance drivers are in the habit of slowing down to let the dog chase them for a brief period longer.

This could be for many reasons, but I will only list a few. Some ambulance drivers selfishly like dogs and the vision of a dog chasing them, if only momentarily, will pull them out of the everyday despair they find themselves in. Or, perhaps, their current problem in the back is not urgent and they can spend the occasion tormenting some small creature. Some may even feel the need to stop and help the dog (although these cases are far and few between). The point I wish to make though is that the driver will inevitably find their own problems more pressing than those of the dog and drive off, leaving the dog stranded by the side of the road.

It may be fair enough that the life of a human is more important than that of a dog, but let us all pause a moment and give a second of silent sympathy to these suffering canines. Imagine the hope that must be running through their little doggy heads. Ah, they would say to themselves - I am finally saved from my agony! But as quickly as this implausible thought might enter their heads their hope is thoroughly and efficiently broken as the ambulance speeds up and drives off.

This is, in all probability, why I am not a dog.

     During my earlier school years, my publicly owned school decided that we should get some Religious Instruction classes for those parents who didn’t throw up at the notion. My parents, being more indifferent to religion than to the non-existent hairs on my pre-pubescent back, didn’t see why this was such a bad idea. So those crazy missionaries came and penetrated our school and undoubtedly countless minds in a ideological rape that we’ve all grown to despise in our godless lives. (Only the Christian story too, of course.)

It was quite an exciting story mind you; this god who now sits up in heaven and talks to us all after he decided to kill himself who wasn’t really him or something something… my parents got to hear me ramble about it for about a day before Good Grief, Charlie Brown stole my attention and the Great Pumpkin began his conversations.

Obviously I left this near-accident relatively unscathed. But one memory of this god-time really stands out in my mind as engagingly symbolic (or prophetic) : sitting on the toilet, reflecting on the story that was told to me earlier, I wondered why I could never hear god talking to me. Ah! The magnificent parent (read: father-figure) of the universe! At that point, I began to wonder who god’s parents were and when his birthday was. In fact, after pushing out that giant shit that kept me occupied in there for some time, I began to worry if anyone else had even bothered to check when god’s birthday was. How offended he must have been!

In show of good spirit I hummed ‘happy birthday’ to god in my head while I wiped my asshole clean. And that was all.

Just when I thought I could really get into this whole blog thing (for my own enjoyment, of course) I’ve realised that in leaving university for the year I’ve been stuck with a 28k connection! It’s taken me half an hour to get to this point. Phew.

So without the interwebs to endlessly and pointlessly entertain me, I have time to get down to some real study! I’ve already been through some interesting philosophical literature on death and a recent book by Daniel Dennett that has pointed me to a few books that I can pick up next time I’m near my library (over 3 hours travel).

But not having study or a job (at present times) and a very distant university leaves me to catch up on some TV series! On my hard drive are the first three seasons of Battlestar Gallactica (which I think will make for some nice posts here eventually), Firefly and the first three seasons of Star Trek TNG. Not to mention I have about 20 albums that I’ve been meaning to listen to. Also, I can try to record a couple of ditties that I’ve written on my acoustic with a shitty plastic mic.

Very busy holidays. Um… I promise to be more interesting next year.

James