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Meanwhile in Pathology:
Me: *examining a massive hole in a calf's heart* "HOLY COW!"
Classmate:
"Literally."
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Black Christmas (1974) I really enjoyed the original “Black Christmas” and although it’s been a while since I’ve seen it, it was the first Christmas themed horror film that came to mind. It’s about a bunch of sorority girls who start receiving harassing anonymous phone calls around Christmas time. The threatening behavior of the killer inevitably escalates, and the girls begin to get picked off one by one.You can watch it in full on YouTube [X]
Rare exports (2010) A Finnish horror / fantasy / thriller. A reindeer butcher in Lapland is losing his animals to what he believes may be a wolf. He sets a trap to catch the animal, but instead captures Santa- a very different Santa to the jolly, fat bellied man we all know and love. Watch here [X]
Kazuo Umezu’s Horror Theater - ‘The Present' Jolly old Santa rewards the good and punishes the bad; and tragically for the drunken party goers in this film, they receive more than just a piece of coal for their years’ worth of bad behavior. This lesser known Japanese short turns Santa Claus into Slasher Claus and doesn’t fail to deliver on the blood and gore. Again, watch it in full on YouTube here [X]
Gremlins (1984) If your kid brother or sister asked for a hatchimal this Christmas, make sure it’s not a mogwai purchased from a cloudy eyed old man in Chinatown - and if it is, remember not to let it get wet and don’t, under any circumstances, let it eat after midnight. Seriously though, Gremlins is a classic, it’s got to be on this list. Watch it [X]
Krampus (2015) Just in case you missed this one last year, now would be a good time to check it out.A little boy having a bad Christmas accidentally calls upon the anti-Santa- a goat legged demon who punishes wrong doers at Christmas. Watch [X]
Treevenge (2008) Throwing this one in as a bonus, because it’s fucking awesome. Christmas tree’s revolt from their lives of oppression and humiliation to take revenge on those who cut down, decorate and display them in their homes.See it here [X]
more [X]
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Our brain: the monster of choice, when there's no one else left to blame..
SOME PEOPLE KILL PEOPLE! It’s the hideous headline heard daily, around the world. As it turns out, we do it quite a bit: every sixty seconds, in the USA alone. In the time, it takes me to write this sentence, at least one somebody is killing somebody else, somewhere on Earth. Let me tell you: this world can make you crazy, if you weren’t already. And if there’s one thing I hope we’ve all figured out by now, it’s that we’re all at least a little bit INSANE! People often tend to think of serial killing as a modern phenomenon, the term having only been coined as recently as the 80’s, when the escalating trend of death-crazed media darlings made such snappy buzzwords commonplace nomenclature. Some unfortunate fold find themselves bullied into madness by a world that it itself insane. Against all their better angels, they feel compelled to rise in righteous vengeance against injustice so profound that only spectacularly deranged and incendiary payback will do. Killing as sport. That’s what hunting’s all about once there’s already meat on the table. The weirder things are, the happier I get, by and large. The innocence of youth is such a tenuous thing. We tend to cherish it in our children, and try to preserve it if possible, even though grown-up prevailing wisdom says that it’s utterly useless once real life gets down to business. Of course, the business of very young children is to try to make sense of the world they’ve fallen into. They’re hungry to learn and impulsively eager to trust anyone who might help them decipher. The child inside has not forgetter what it was like before we knew, nor does she soft-pedal the painful gnosis to come. There are a few things more shattering than an unsolved crime. There’s no closure. No rest. No way to get free of the ghosts, or the hope. Until you go all the way. In trying to make sense of seemingly senseless tragedy, one of the hardest things to reconcile is the randomness of fate. We like to think in terms of cause and effect—I punch you in the nose, and the result will be hurt—because it’s nice and simple, and often true. But the only straight lines are the ones that we make. Life tends to be a lot more complex and rococo, weaving patterns so elaborate they often go right over our heads, leaving us with nothing but they question, Why? The flip side of utter chaos is poetic justice; and the more optimistic among us are prone to think that everything happens for a reason. Of course, the worse things get, the harder it is to maintain that cheerful disposition. That’s when resilience and good old-fashioned, can-do spirit come in awfully handy. Or, as the old saying goes,” Chance favors the prepared mind.” Sometimes, you just got to kill that bastard. Just seems like the natural thing to do. Not a whole lot of explanation necessary. If you knew him, you’d probably want to kill him, too. Everybody screws up once or twice. And a lot of us get caught. So, you got to respect a man who does his time, pays his debt to society, and moves on. The world is not forgiving, but you do what you can. Chalk it up to youthful craziness. And prepare to start anew. Nobody wants to get murdered. There’s not much to like it. If it happens, it’s bound to be horrible. Unless the deed goes down in public, adds are good that the last voice you’ll hear—aside from your own worthless pleas, helpless screams, and undignified death rattles—will be coming from the person who kills you. Psychosis thrives in the open, unseen. That’s one of its most terrifying aspects. We walk past it daily. Maybe nod. Maybe smile. Never recognizing what it is that it smiling back, with a searching gaze more intimate than we would ever want to know. But love doesn’t play by ordinary rules. And obsession is confession, be it welcome or not. As witness this nightmarishly heartfelt declaration. Most marriages, as it turns out, are not made in heaven. And the skillful eye can see a train wreck coming a mile away. Love is hard enough for the sane. Almost by definition, it makes you crazy. Once you say, “I’d do anything for you,” you’ve left the door wide open. Anything is an awfully lard word. One of the greatest crimes modern society commits daily is the dumping of our mentally ill back onto the streets with no provisions. From a fiscal standpoint, it’s utterly sound. But once you get past the bloodless number-crunching, it’s the cultural equivalent of running raw sewage through our psychological thoroughfares, and into our tap away. Drink up! There’s nothing like a perfectly good idea and beating it into the ground so hard that even the ground starts screaming. But that’s what you get when you take something nice and innocuous—like recycling. It’s always tough when families split up. Tough on parents. Even tougher on the kids. And some reunions are best avoided at all costs. They’re like ticking time bombs that only explode upon contact. But I suspect that few are so thoroughly designed for mutually assured destruction as the thermonuclear family gathering depicted. Once again, through the eyes of a child, we’re taken to the Bad Place: this time though eyes so young that they can’t even begin to process the morality, but only experience the crazy as it comes. When you don’t believe in the powers-that-be, you make your own rules. You make your own way, and prepare to defend it. Prepare for the worst. That’s the survivalist code. Don’t you just hate it when people touch your stuff? Especially when they don’t wash their hands first, and then you must wash your hands, and all the things they touched, including the scissors you just stabbed them in the neck with repeatedly because they WOULDN’T STOP TOUCHING YOUR STUFF? You can tell a lot about people from the way they treat their pets. Excessive pampering implies certain kinds of crazy. Obvious cruelty, on the other hand, draws a straight line to the dark side. Have you ever watched a little kid who really likes to hurt things and gone, “Oh, this is not going to turn out well”? all through my life, I’ve taken note of them as they crossed my path, and wondered who they turned out to be. Or, more specifically. What they wound up doing. Having spent the last billion-odd pages naturalistically laying out the details of our human dilemma, the time has come to ask the trillion-dollar existential question: What does it all mean? Is there a point to all this suffering, madness, and horror? Are the optimists and spiritually inclined among us right when they say that all things happen for a reason, and that’s just part of God’s divine plan? Murder is a sin. Of course, it is. But there are little loopholes and provisions encoded into every religion. “Thou shalt not kill, except…” and then there are those systems of belief that can’t be bothered with pussy-footing around. Their gods walked in slaughtering and never looked back. To do anything less is to see things unclearly. You can call their adherents extremists or true believer. Call them saints or psychotics. Doesn’t matter to them. They know what is true, and you don’t. Suck it up! So, what have we learned from all this? Whether you feel that life has intrinsic meaning, or only the meaning we ascribe to it—or even no meaning at all—in the end, the human hope is to somehow make peace. Find a way to reconcile both our beautiful and terrible truths. To both live, and then die, as best we can.
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So I was waiting for the bus and my friend decided to start choking me.... She then said "I can't choke this retard she always smiles whenever I do!!" and I start laughing like I'm insane.. Seems legit:I
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*stays up until 3 in the morning* *remembers you have to do something early the next morning*
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