What to make of this headline? Association with Beyonce and the movement to secure justice for black victims of senseless crimes comes, (at least in this context) in light of her Super Bowl performance, seen by well over one hundred million people. If this were a real news outlet, this might be the point where I would go on professionally, reverse pyramid style, and give you a nice bite sized story. But since this isn’t that, I might make pause to honestly mention that I did not watch the Super Bowl. Had I, it would have been only for the Pokemon commercial they showed in between the dreadfully dull segments of sports entertainment. Instead, I watched the Pokemon ad online, and was better for it. Online is where I came across this information as well. Evidently, cell phone photography confirms that several of Beyonce’s dancers used this platform to call attention to the Black Lives Matter campaign, reportedly without the pop sensations knowledge. Specifically, the background artists held signs petitioning for justice for Mario Woods–a young man taken by as many as twenty bullets in the process of resisting arrest. Of course, as with anything that happens in this country, reaction in how to cope with Woods’ death is largely split, with some believing that the force was a necessary and appropriate response, and other (correct people) feeling that racially determined police brutality being the prominent force that it is, it is not only pertinent, but crucial that every act of violence (especially lethal violence) is examined under a microscope. Regardless of what one thinks of Mr. Woods’ passing the essence of this matter is that the campaign for racial equality, and transparency from law enforcement again comes to national attention, though this time before the alter of an American icon. Regardless of what she did or didn’t know about her background dancer’s actions (and really, she probably didn’t know anything at all) her new song “Formation”, which she performed at the sporting event, is being heralded as an anthem black empowerment, and this is a good thing. People in this country so often ignore the news, but listening to celebrities is a different thing altogether.
Thanks for reading guys, girls and that androgynous alien that I just know follows my stuff.
Follow me on Twitter @DewmontPaul
South City has finally suffered a death worth writing about. Finally. It’s how every town that isn’t South City sees things, so it must true. Travis Whitman was a smart young man. Honors student, choir boy, devoted son, brother, and friend. One of the good ones. It’s no wonder that the world mourns his death. South City is a dangerous place, no stranger to violence, quite familiar with funerals. The world cannot be expected to stop every time one of them drops dead. But this is different, because time, the victim was innocent. As Travis walks slowly the street on the way to drop off a cup sugar to his grandmother, innocently thinking about the young woman that owns his heart, a bullet stops him short of his destination. The shooter, Johnathan Gallespi, a business owner of a dying video store is not the racist that the media would like to make him out to be. Just a bad shot. His intended target, shop lifter Rickie Lithgow dodges Gallespi’s bullets, but cannot escape the fall out of that fateful afternoon. Safe from one white man with a gun, and straight into the arms of another. Both Rickie and Gallespi are arrested that afternoon, and the world is in a fury over what has happened. Anger only grows when the charges are distributed. Gallespi, an elderly white man guilty only of over zealously protecting his store, is charged with manslaughter. Rickie, the young black man who stole the VCR from Gallespi’s shop is charged with felony homicide.
In the midst of all of this, the reactions are split. An aging activist known for extreme measures takes to the streets one last time in a hope to rally for justice, using whatever means he decides are necessary. Meanwhile, a young woman who had been the object of Travis’s affections, crusades for a peaceful resolution, and for justice for Rickie. Chaos reins supreme in South City as a tyrannically unjust justice system continues to destroy lives. ANOTHER BLACK BOY DEAD IN A PUDDLE.
So that’s my book, or at least you know, the sort of information someone might include on a dust jacket. What do you think? The story of course is written in response to incidents like that of what happened in Ferguson Missouri. Incidents that more and more often are finding their way into the public eye without any hope of a resolution. So what do you think? Is this the sort of book that you would be interested in reading? Leave a comment below to let me know what you think. If you really like the idea, share the article with your friends as well. All feedback is welcome!
Follow me on Twitter @DewmontPaul to get updates on my book, as I seek representation.
Isn’t that remarkable. I don’t no shit about Canada. Literally nothing, except for that they probably aren’t in danger of having a reality tv star leading their country. And yet…..someone in Canada read my shit. It’s fascinating simply on the grounds that I don’t want to read my own shit. It gets me all frustrated, like why is there so many typos? Or, why am I so angry all the time? But you want to hear something interesting? Someone in fucking Canada is asking themselves those same questions now.
If there is one thing that I love about the internet it is that it is capable of spreading my mediocrity to the entire world, or at least, you know, to northern North America. You throw something up on the internet, and all of a sudden a billion people have the chance to take a peak at it. They never do- except for that lone Canadian, but they have the chance to. It makes me wonder why I spent all that time and energy shooting short stories into the dark abyss that is publication- only to have it read and rejected by a singular editor, when I could have just thrown them up here, to have them rejected by perhaps multiple Canadians. Thanks for the vote of confidence true North! I might just be living among you after this next election comes to pass.
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You sit in your shitty one bedroom apartment, the glow of your television set the only thing illuminating the room. On the ground is a tostino’s pizza. You paid a dollar for it, but so far have only been able to afford to get your quarters worth. All of a sudden comes a familiar ad. A beautiful woman appears on the screen, drawing stares and comments from men and women a like. You use Maybalene. A few hundred of your dollars had gone into paying for this add. And then the ask the age old question. Maybe She’s born with it. Maybe its Maybalene. Maybe you’re an ugly fucking cow without our product and you should buy some more. That’s what they are saying. Because no woman could possibly be born naturally pretty enough to be shown on television.
Go fuck yourself Maybalene.
I hate college, not purely in the sense that I do not like being told ridiculous nonsense that in no way actually benefits my life (though I do truly and utterly hate that). No, I hate the notion of culturally mandated higher education for what my pretentious self assured mind considers to be more enlightened reasons. You might feel differently. Here’s why you’re wrong.
- The Cost-inordinate to what you receive. This summer I paid a literal 1000$ to take an online film class. I never met my teacher, I never spoke to her, emailed her, or even aw her face, nor could I tell you who else was in my class. What we did? Watched movies. I paid a thousand dollars for a PHD to decide my Netflix que. It’s nonsense. -And what do they do with that money? New buildings, better football players, perhaps a statue of a former school President that none of the students currently enrolled at the University were even aware of. Nonsense bullshit that is putting you tens of thousands of dollars in debt. “But Paul, most of those things are bought by grants, and donations, you ignorant slut.” Well first of all my good man, slut is a cancerous word that our society uses to slap women in their faces, and it is one that should not be uttered on my blog. Second, I know that you ignorant ass munch (not to offend the ass munchers out there). But these things are bought because that is the way in which the world of the university has defined itself. Grand buildings, tremendous stadiums, and expensive sports teams with which to fill them. Silliness. I spent three semesters at a community college- same resources as my current university, but a literal fourth of the cost.
- “College prepares you for the real world”. Haha oh does it? That real world where you party five nights out of the week, work sporadic day time hours, and pay some one hefty fees to boss you around? College is nothing like the real world. it’s not even similar. Yes, it provides you a chance to move out of your parents house, but guess what? For 450 a month you can do that anyway.
- “College makes you a smarter, more well informed member of society.” Oh does it? I wish someone had told me that four years ago, I might have found the time to smile about it. That’s horse shit, and you know it. College, as in everything else, can only inform you as much as you decide you want it to. You want to be informed? Read a newspaper, they’re seventy five cents. So what am i proposing? Nothing. This system isn’t going anywhere, and it never will. It’s too ingrained in our society for it to go anywhere. All i can suggest is that we stop pretending that it is some temple of enlightenment, and call it what it is- an institution used to designate the haves and have nots. Those with degrees- now deemed worthy of a decent job, and those without, who can’t hope to. It’s bullshit, but it’s our bullshit, so own up to it.
Thanks for reading.
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Isn’t it ironic he way in which college forces you to spend inordinate amounts of money (in relation to the services that it provides) that put you tremendously in debt, just so that one day you might get a job that pays a decent wage? Emphasis on the word “might” by the way. Because there are no definite’s. Hard work won’t under all circumstances yield your dream life, and conversely, supreme stupidity will not always leave you homeless (see every single reality tv star ever). There are no guarantees in life, even though it feels like maybe there should be, and while this is regrettable, it is not something that will be changed by activism, as it is really only as prevelent these days as the cause is trendy.
In that regard the less academically inclined among us are still out of luck. It seems that so few people have found fault with this system that requires us to put ourselves deeply into debt just for the chance at a job that provides a live able wage. People get so caught up with this “need” for a higher education, that they don’t ever stop to think that their could possibly be an alternative. Perhaps they are right not to dwell on it. Perhaps this “Hunger Games,” esque, survival of the fittest arena of education and job hunting has become so institutionalized that the probability of other options gaining traction are so slim that the efforts to create such a thing would be better directed elsewhere. Either way, it’s something to think about isn’t it. I’ve always figured that your degree costs a good deal more than the sticker price. Besides four years of your life, it costs your dreams. That is not to say that everyone can, or should dedicate their lives to the pursuit of a rock and roll career that they will never have, but rather it just seems worth mentioning that once they take that plunge, get that degree, and enter into white corporate America, I do believe that they pay not just the hundred thousand dollars or so of tuition, but also that creative fire in their belly that they had had up until their eighteenth birthday. And that passion you can never get back.
Food for thought.
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I wax quite often on this blog, on how very negatively I feel about the pursuit of my degree. Perhaps such feelings are justified, but then perhaps not. I am one to obseess over the futility of higher education. To what degree to these classes actually service me, or anyone for that matter? All of the books that truly shaped my world view, “To Kill a Mockingbird,” “Lord of The Flies,” “the Grapes of Wrath,” were read when I was just barely a teenager. All of the other texts of meanign to me, I have discovered myself. Yes some of the books that I have read in college have been interesting, but they do not shape me, they do not define me, and in fact, they mostly irritate me.
“But you didn’t have to be an English Major!”
Yes, thank you internet stranger, I know that. And thus the title. Is college bullshit, or am I? With Fifty or so majors to chose from, surely one would strike my fancy enough to keep me from boring you on the internet about it. I might have thought that said major was English, given that the only thing that I have ever wanted to do was write, but what can you do? Such has not been the case. SO maybe the problem is me, because I hoentst to God do not like college folks. First, the teachers. Folks that assume upon their own speculative knowledge to the point that they think their words are gracing the ears of the masses. In the English department, that consists largely of alluding to all of the things that might symbolize the penis. But then there are the students. The over enthused, that answer everything as though their penis related ideas are also worth sharing. It goes without saying that they aren’t my cup of tea. Then there is the Greek students. No, not the race, the bumbling fools that can hardly articulate a sentence, let alone come to a conclusion about one that belongs to someone else. Not my cup of tea either. In fact the only college students that I do appreciate is the other silent types, be they slackers, like myself, or simply shy students. They are the students that keep me from standing out. The ones that are there to cushion the teachers notion of who is or is not participating in class, which is good, because the very last thing that the slacker wants is to be noticed.
So you tell me, is the problem bitter old me in the back of the classroom, or the system that requires me to do so to get a job?
Thanks for reading,
Follow me on Twitter @DewmontPaul
You know what I like about the Walking Dead? Everything! #openinglinesthatwinpulitizerprize. Seriously, I know that as an english major at a university, this might make me sound like a fool, but I truly and completely believe that the book series is a modern day classic, even if it has been subsequently commercialized by a telivsion show that still delivers, despite it’s softened plots and other deviations from teh book series that is so deserving of respect. While many might watch the show for the violence or….well that’s probably why a lot of people watch the show, I read and watch because it is a truly remarkable modern take on “Lord of the Flies”. Regardless of whether or not this is what Robert Kirman intended (and really, it surely must be) the text is nevertheless an intellectual look at just what happens to so called humanity when it is stripped of the outside factors that dictate what such a thing looks like.
For those of you who are familiar with this title, you are aware that, especially as time goes on, it is not the zombies that take the most lives, but rather the survivors themselves. The descent of Rick (if indeed that is how you consider it) is one of Elizebethan influence. His best intentions are what ultimately shrink, and define his world, and thus guide his actions. His desire to safe is ultimately what directs him towards savagery, as more and more violence becomes necessary to sustain the life that he and his people know. Ironically, as he continously engages in these acts of violence, we slowly see him become the thing that he is trying to negate- an empty shell of a man, guided by instinct, and prone to acts of extreme violence. Characters that cannot adapt to this new order (Herschal, Dale) are frequently, and violently expunged from it. Even those that are adept at survival in the new world (Shane, The Governor) are only as likely to survive as they are able to match their opponents savagery. Even they fall before Rick, of course after having caused their own damage.
It is in this way that we see the texts take the shape of “Flies”, where primal insticnt is valued over reason and consiounce, The question is, is Rick a Ralph, or a Jack? More importantly, does it matter?
Thanks for reading, follow me on Twitter @DewmontPaul
All through high school, the allure of independent film was one that occupied my passing thoughts (as they were thoughts far better than what math could offer) but was nevertheless one I had never thought possible to pursue. Stephen Spielberg made movies, Paul Durante did not. I had always been a writer, but that was different: everyone is a writer in some capacity or another. That I had chosen to lend the craft towards fiction provided me with much to do, it did not particularly distinguish me one way or another from anyone else- a fact that I was fine with. I was normal (haha ok, not normal) and normal folks do not make movies. It was as simple as that. To be in film, one had to be an asshole, utterly and completely. An entitled fool that screamed at folks making a lot less money than them, and then ultimately sold out altogether to make a bullshit film like “Transformers” (I’m talking to you directly Michael Bay). And of course only the decent filmmakers even had the option to sell out (Michael Bay excluded). You had to know how to work a camera, write in script format, frame a shot, and then another shot, and then another shot, until you’ve composed so many images that a film was born. Such thing was an art form, and one that my proficiency with words (if even you are kind enough to call it that) did not prepare me for. Then college came.
College has a way about it. For some, it means getting involved, buckling down with books, settling in at night with drinks and high bar tabs, and consuming alchohal until they are able to forget that the real world will be just as shitty as the dismal realm of higher education. For me, it meant desperately trying everything I had ever considered that was not related to the dismal future that my degree would promise me. Dismal professional future, I should note. Not to be sappy (and you shut the hell up with your corny meter because I am NOT being sappy) but since my wedding in July my future has looked pretty good, regardless of how my creative endevours are received. But that doesn’t mean that I want to work in an office for the rest of my life. Hell, the notion of it makes me sick. And so for the last four years, I have explored every avenue of creativity that came to mind, including that of Indie film. My freshmen year of school, I had written a screenplay, titled “Community Cop,” a comedy that follows two campus police men, two stoners, and a student body that is thrust into madness when a storm leaves them trapped in the school. The script itself is a relatively simple one, though not something that I would have been capable of making around the time that I had written it, and most likely not even now. And I knew that, so I decided to try my hand at practicing the craft.
Then came sophomore year, and a new project. “The Dewmont Daze”.. A twelve part webseries that chronicles the lives of those same campus policemen and stoners. This I actually was able to make, after about a year and a half of casting woes and production errors. And the final product? Eh.
With only about eighteen hours of time to film one hundred and fourteen pages, it was a project that was destined to fail, especially given the collective inexperience of the entire cast and crew (I was the entire crew, and a portion of the cast as well). We filmed on a DLSR, a good piece of equipment, though one that cannot stand on its own. The things that we needed, lights, and a boom mic to say the least, did not fit into our budget of zero dollars, and what we ultimately got was a mere fraction of what we could have had,. and what I had been hoping for. To be perfectly clear, I do love watching these videos, but I also love just about anything else that gets birthed in my head. I’m quite silly like that. The final product unfortunately is missing scense, delivered half heartidly in portions by any number of members of the cast, including myself, and only a shadow of what I had tried to make.
I know that the above ramblings do not make the show sound like something worth viewing, but here it is all the same, Episode 3. See for yourself what I have done, and what I ahve failed to do, and be kind enough to let me know what you think. After all, this was meant to be a learning experience. Let me know what you think.
Thanks for reading, and for watching.
Follow me on Twitter @DewmontPaul
Let me start this by mentioning that I am without question the sort to be inordinately irritated by inconsequential imbeciles. Kim Davis perhaps the queen of these imbeciles. In a general sense, I am also typically not in favor of things with any sort of religious undertone (or over tone, but then that went without saying). I suppose twelve years of Catholic school will do that to you. But all that said, I am generally a fan of this new Pope Francis. So imagine my disappointment when I found out that Mary’s head honcho was playing buddy buddy with america’s newly crowned queen of stupidity.
Did Frank do wrong? Lets take a look at the facts.
1. Pappa F met with a whole hell of a lot of people in the four or so days that he was in our Country. With the exception of the big eared gentleman that met him at the airport, you can safely bet that he had no clue who most of those people were.
2. There is very little chance that he had ever heard the chronicles of this dreadful Kentucky woman’s transgressions until right before he met her. Hell, he probably didn’t even know what Kentucky was. Again, he most likely didn’t seek this wretched fool out.
3. Of course he is against gay marriage. You already knew that He’s Catholic, it’s like part of their deal. NOTE; This is not an excuse for him, merely a restatement of a dreadful fact.
4. The last Pope sucked. This guy has been pretty good so far, maybe he deserves a bye?
5. Even if he doesn’t deserve a bye, and he very well might not, STOP WRITING ABOUT THIS FOOL! Kim Davis is going to live out the remainder of her life a celebrity because people will not stop writing about her.
6.Yes, I understand the hypocrosi in asking people to stop writing about Kim Davis in an article written about Kim Davis.
Alright that’s about it guys. Should Frankie get a pass? That’s for you to decide.
Oh but wait. I have a webseries to promote as well. If you haven’t seen my new show, take a look.
Thanks for watching, and reading. Follow me on Twitter @DewmontPaul