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storyunrelated · 6 years

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Roller Mobster

I can never remember if I've posted this here or not and I don't think I have so, well, here it is.

Inspired by a combination of this Carpenter Brut song and also a cliched view of all bloodsports in all dystopian fiction but which only really exists in my head. Also nonsense.

This is also where I came up with Evil President Halifax, a one-note dickhead who amuses me greatly because he's just straight-up called Evil President Halifax. He seems vaguely aware of what sort of story he's in, too.

These things amuse me.

PS: Carpenter Brut is getting kinda big now and this is good.

[Only ridiculous bloodsports can keep the masses in check!]

Entrants from all twenty of the Sectors stood in a line, their futuristic gender-neutral tunics resplendent in their bland colours. Surrounding and encircling them was the track, which gleamed.

Last-minute preparations and checks were still underway here and there: the bearings of the roller-skates being quickly tested, the surface of the track re-sheened for the hundredth time, the guns being loaded, the nozzles of the flame-jets cleared, the blood-sluices checked for flow control and things of that nature. The Entrants had to stand perfectly still through all of this, of course, and the audience had to remain perfectly quiet.

The Derby was integral to the fabric of society, for reasons that were ill-explored at best. It was said that it helped to strengthen the citizenry by reminding them of the important part that total submission to the ruling elite played in their continued survival and the survival of society in general.

Of course there were a handful who had the temerity to point out that survival wasn’t actually that hard as there weren’t any external enemies they were aware of and the non-specific conflict that had sundered the world all those years ago hadn’t actually impacted the planet itself that much anyway – no radioactive wastelands, for example.

Those people had preference when it came to their children being entered into the Derby. If they didn’t have children they were politely and forcefully encouraged to have some as soon as possible so the original threat would have more weight. Surprisingly, this often worked. They were probably just being polite.

The hush that suffused the arena deepened as the president of the Grand Unified Peaceful Allied Alliance (GUPAA) entered, accompanied by lackeys, gophers, advisers, hangers on and the various other useless persons that a person in such a lofty position tends to acquire. Like shit acquired flies.

Evil President Halifax (his official title) waved lazily to the gathered crowds as he took his seat in the Presidential box. The camera drones buzzing about made sure to capture his most sinister angles and blew them up all over the Magna-Screens so that none could escape his gaunt, unnerving countenance. The effort he put into looking the way he did was considerable. Image - while not everything - was very important..

His duties at the Derby were largely ceremonial, but he enjoyed them all the same: look disinterested by everything that happened to further drive home the pointless futility of the spectacle and enforce a general sense of helplessness in the population. After all, he had it within his power to stop it, and if he chose not to even when he seemed not to enjoy it what hope could there be for freedom?

It was good fun. Pageantry was Halifax’s favourite part of the job, really. Again, image.

With the president in place it was time to begin. The Entrants were introduced one after another as soaring music blared from enormous speakers dangling from the cavernous arena roof. Often the music was so loud it drowned out what was being said but it was unlikely anyone was missing much. Just the standard spiel about whichever Sector the Entrant was from, when that Sector had won the Derby last, what their blood type was, what their perfect Sunday was and so on. One by one they were locked into their starting blocks.

There followed the anthem of the Grand Unified Peaceful Allied Alliance; a slow, ponderous dirge that infrasonically ground down even the merest trace of anything approaching hope or joy. The words to it were primarily concerned with how without the benevolence of the Corpo-State every single person in the arena would be dead, naked and in a ditch. Or words to that effect, it was sort of hard to make out of the constant, low droning sound of the Terror-Organs (which were rather like normal organs, only far more terrifying).

Once the anthem had finished it was time for Halifax’s commencement speech. Rising from his seat he approached the Presidential Microphone (like a normal microphone, but capitalised and far more sinister and imposing), relishing the sight before him - a sea of terrified face staring up at him. Just like every year. Just like he pictured in his head anytime he felt down.

“Loyal subjects of the Grand Unified Peaceful Allied Alliance, again we come together as an allied alliance to witness the cream of our youth engage in brutal bloodsports to remind all of you that resistance is pointless and your lives mean nothing to those in power. Let us begin.”

In previous years Halifax had put more effort into his speech. Some years it had gone on for hours, specifically just to see how long he could drag it out. Five hours was his record, at which point he’d got bored and by which point a good number of the audience had collapsed from exhaustion (and been dragged outside to be beaten, as was only to be expected). Today it was mostly just a case of rubbing the faces of those present in how hopeless their situation was and getting it over with.

He sat back down again and waved lazily at someone who was presumably in charge, signalling that it was time to get the ball rolling on another year of murdering children. Nominally for the sake of enforcing order but mostly because by now it was just tradition. Too much effort to stop it now.

His gesture was seen by those managing the event and in a flurry of clipped communication and barked instructions through walkie-talkies the signal was given to begin.

And so the Entrants were off.

At first it was, of course, chaos. It was always chaos at first. The event was intentionally overloaded with Entrants so that the start became a bloodbath of tangled limbs and panicked teens and this year was no exception. Those furthest up the side of the track and most at the mercy of its camber were the first to topple, they in turn taking out those below. Only those closest to the inside managed to escape the landslide of struggling bodies, leaving the others behind.

They had good reason to move quickly. The hazards that the Entrants had to contend with were released in waves and the first wave was always only a small delay behind the Entrant's own start time. Sure enough, with barely anyone managing to wriggle their way out of the body-pile the first wave was set loose.

Heavily armoured and wielding Cruel Cudgels (cudgels designed by science to be as vicious as possible) the Roller-Goons came skating out from their deployment gates, whooping their bloodthirst as they swooped in towards the Entrants - a living tide of proper nouns and violence.

They immediately set about pulping the heads of any Entrants still within reach as those on the furthest side of the pile redoubled their efforts to claw free. Everyone involved was screaming. The Entrants in terror, the Roller-Goons in delight. The audience was deathly silent. All they could do was watch.

Those Entrants that had got away in good time lapped the pile and did not slow down. A few Roller-Goons who hadn’t managed to get prime spots for beating children to death took lazy swipes at those who sped past but their heart wasn’t really in it.

At least one Entrant strayed a little too close and caught a cudgel to the gut, flipping over and cracking their skull open on the track to whoops of approval from the Roller-Goons and a tiny, unseen fist pump from Evil President Halifax. The impact had been tangible, the sound exquisite.

By now the initial carnage had largely run its course. Those killed were dragged off the track by Corpse Handlers and those who had got free were now speeding around with the rest of them. The wounded and the ones too slow to get away properly quickly joined the ones being dragged off and stacked up for incineration.

The second wave of threats was then triggered. Portions of the track gave way to reveal spike-pits, blades swung out from above and jets of flame burst from hidden ports. Traps, basically. The unwary and those simply in the wrong place at the wrong time experienced the traps first hand and results were messy, if spectacular. Even a Roller-Goon caught the wrong end of some fire, crashing into a barrier in a screaming fireball much to everyone’s enjoyment.

Through all of this there was one Entrant in particular who, little by little, started to bring more attention to herself. Her skill on the skates was unlike any that had been seen in years. No trap got close, no Roller-Goon - who by now had all started skating as well - could hope to catch her. She handled herself as though wheels were more comfortable than feet. She was a natural. Born to roll. Halifax narrowed his eyes and steepled his fingers.

“She’s a wizard on the skates!” One of his advisers gasped, earning a frightful glare from Halifax. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand (there were many, but some stood out more than most) it was hushed, awed reactions of the hidden skills of the Entrants in the Derby. That sort of thing never ended well for anyone, and had very nearly brought his predecessor’s administration to its knees.

Halifax wasn’t going to let any nonsense like that happen on his watch. With a subtle tip of the head to one his emotionless, starkly-clad retainers he had the adviser quietly removed and neck-shot. Neck-shooting solved a multitude of problems, Halifax found, and never, ever had any repercussions or negative consequences vis damaging his authority or the loyalty of those around him. Why would it? Who would lose respect for an employer who made a habit of regularly murdering those working for him? It was unheard of.

“That one. Where is she from?” Halifax asked another of his advisers. There were always more of them to hand. They seemed to crawl out of the woodwork whenever he had his back turned. This one in particular seemed especially obsequious and fawning. They’d go far.

“She is from…” The adviser said, scrolling rapidly through the pad they were holding. Halifax held a hand up though, stopping them from continuing.

“Wait. Don’t tell me. She’s from the poorest, most run down, furthest-away-from-the-capital Sector, isn’t she?” He asked. He had a gut feeling, and his gut was rarely wrong. It was a presidential gut of the old school, and had instincts beyond those available to normal guts. It was better than normal guts.

The adviser scanned their pad, unsure if they were supposed an honest answer or not. A stiff look from Halifax jolted them into action and they panicked, telling the truth. They hadn’t been advising long enough to have learnt how to suppress this reflex.

“Uh...yes…” they said. Halifax grunted, another nod of the head seeing this adviser dragged off screaming just like the last one. Another expertly delivered neck-shot followed Halifax revised his earlier opinion - they wouldn’t go far.

“Always the bloody underdogs…” Halifax muttered. “And always a teen girl. Why is it always a teen girl? Why do we even let them in this event anymore? Nothing but trouble.”

Meanwhile, on the track, the Entrant continued to amaze - while also display a dazzling combination of personal strength and emotional depth. She shed tears for her fallen, tragic childhood acquaintance whom she’d only just realised she’d truly loved, but she didn’t stop moving to do it. Weeping tastefully she continued speeding around the track, spinning beneath blades and somersaulting over charging, cudgel wielding Roller-Goons.

“I also love you!” Said some other Entrant, speeding up beside her. This came as something of a shock to her, though not as much as his death seconds later. She’d hardly known him, yet somehow felt as if she’d known him a lifetime. Then she concentrated on continuing not to die.

President Halifax sighed. Someone always fell in love with someone. Kids. It got a bit predictable really. Not that it mattered much. He would bring this inspiring, drama-filled charade to an end. Turning to his seat-mounted request unit he pressed the largest, shiniest button.

“Release the Roller-Hounds!” He roared. Unnecessarily. He hoped whoever was on the other end had had their ear right up to the speaker at the time.

At his command a siren blared, a light flashed and a heavy metal grille pulled up and out of the way. From behind it came a ravening park of slavering, barking dogs, all equipped with dinky little canine roller-skates. They tore onto the track with a fury, most skidding wildly out of control and ending up in a thrashing heap where the track tilted, but a handful got moving properly and set off to chase the irritating, still-crying, still perfectly turned out girl.

“The Roller-Hounds are always a safe bet,” Halifax said to himself, idly stroking his exquisitely maintained beard of evil as the hounds closed the distance.

While the hounds themselves could sometimes prove hit-or-miss, the sight of a hitherto irritatingly graceful Entrant being torn to screaming bits by a pack of dogs was never something Halifax would willingly pass up. He usually went to sleep listening to playback of it from previous years. He couldn’t really drift off without it nowadays.

Glancing back over her shoulder the girl saw the Roller-Hounds bearing down on her. The tiny little rocket set into the rear of their tiny little roller-skates gave them a speed advantage she simply couldn’t overcome on her own.

“The inevitability of her vicious mauling by dogs is symbolic of the inevitability of failure for all involved!” An adviser exclaimed, drawing a disbelieving look from Halifax.

“Yeah. That’s sort of the whole point. Do you want to get shot in the neck?” He asked. The adviser rapidly shook their head, paling. Halifax returned his attention to the track.

“Then don’t talk again. For at least a month,” he said, fingers steepling once more as his eyes returned to the girl. The first of the dogs leapt through the air and Halifax found that he couldn’t help but grin.

Of course it wasn’t going to be as easy as that.

Almost in slow-motion (though in actual fact it barely took a heartbeat) the girl smoothly spun in place, ducking beneath the dog which tumbled end over end with a yelp. She was still spinning though, her forward momentum carrying her on along one skate as her other leg shot out. Like a flail she knocked aside the dogs as they closed in, sending them all sailing away from her like they were nothing.

“My God, she’s mastered the Minovski technique,” breathed someone nearby, utterly overcome by awe. Halifax spread his hands.

“I will have everyone here executed if so much as one more person expresses even a shred of admiration for the Entrant down there. Okay? No more hushed tones and no more appreciation. In fact everyone just be quiet. Next person who speaks and isn’t me gets to be food for the Roller-Hounds.”

That shut them up, but did little to slow down the girl who had stopped spinning and was now just continuing to skate. Nothing slowed her. Not Roller-Goons, not the handful of remaining Roller-Hands, not the traps - nothing. Even as the other Entrants were whittled down to single digits she remained utterly unscathed. The release of the Roller-Bats (bat with roller skates, natch) didn’t even register with her. It was like she didn’t care.

Already there was a rising sense of expectation from the audience. A barely-suppressed murmuring. Halifax had seen this sort of thing before. It always ended the same way but it was always annoying when it happened.

“There’s always one. Every year there’s always fucking one,” he hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was starting to feel like a bad joke. Every year there always the underdog. Never the kid who practised, almost always the girl, invariably driven to some idealistic pronouncement towards the climax of the event and unavoidably being very irritating up until the point Halifax had them shot.

This year he really wasn’t willing to wait.

Reaching over again to his seat-mounted request unit he flicked open a plastic cover and pressed down on the angry red button marked ‘Purge Track’. The still-skating girl had a second or so to register the blaring alarm and flashing lights before the whole of the track dropped away, depositing anyone and anything still on it into the suffocating, grinding darkness beneath. She did not have time to scream.

There was uproar in the crowd at this breach in protocol - and, you know, murder of someone who had been doing so well - but Halifax couldn’t have given less of a shit and lazily motioned for some guards to open fire randomly into the audience until they stopped whining. He didn’t stick around to watch the results.

“Next year no more teen girls, alright? Just boys from now on. No-one gives a shit about boys and they never make trouble like this,” Halifax said, striding away from the Presidential box with his advisers clustering around him and struggling to keep up. Then he frowned and came up short, remembering something.

“But then there was that maze stuff. That had boys and they made a mess. Fuck. Fucking kids. You know what, fuck it - bombs in the all the skates. And all across the track. And fucking spikes. And guns in the spikes. Just make sure we have a way that I can press a button and kill anyone making a problem. I’m so sick of this ‘figure of the resistance’ shit every fucking year.”

He glared around, daring anyone to contradict him or make suggestions. There was silence, apart from one adviser quietly taking notes on their tablet. This Halifax actually appreciated, but he wasn’t going to tell anyone that. They’d go far. Probably.

With a final, extra-hateful round of glaring Halifax stomped off, shoving aside anyone careless enough to get in his way and even veering off a little just to have people to shove.

“I’m going to my evil Presidential yacht and if anyone calls me anytime in the next week I’m just blowing the country up I don’t give a fuck.”

END

#Roller Mobster #Short #Short story #Amwriting #Writblr #Writeblr #Writing

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rilenerocks · 4 years

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Sometimes things just have to blow, out of nowhere, for no reason in particular. Internal seismic shifts. The other day started out innocently enough. In fact, it was a welcome relief from the previous one which was incredibly stressful. The events of that day began with a morning email from my mortgage company, telling me I’d filed legally incorrect documents. As I’d completed them myself with no lawyer, I got seriously worried. The bank’s underwriters turned out to be wrong, but still. Not the most relaxing way to start the morning. Then I got a truly disturbing phone call from a friend who’s suffering from intractable depression which has thus far been unresponsive to pharmaceutical intervention. Behaving way beyond my pay grade, I managed to find at least some temporary intervention for him by using my powers of persuasion on his primary doctor. But I know my limits and I was edging past them. I was seriously afraid and uncomfortable. Next up was having some truly beloved people stop by my house, people who were visiting from a coronavirus hotspot in this country. And they have been only sporadically wearing masks. What a dilemma. Contact or no contact? Did I get exposed? No one we love and who love us wants to deliberately harm us. But we can’t possibly know who’s quietly carrying the virus, nor whether we’ll be the ones who wind up with the life-threatening aspects of this disease. When will this pressure end? Not for a long time, apparently, when the public’s responses to the threat are so disparate. Then the guests used the toilet where the seat, unbeknownst to them had been hanging by a thread. When they left, I went in to the bathroom to sanitize and found the seat hopelessly broken. Groan. I ordered a new one that I could pick up without going into a store. I picked it up, went home and took everything apart. The new one was the wrong size. The day just kept going. I got a huge painful splinter in the bottom of my foot and I couldn’t get part of it out. Later, another friend wrote me from the ER where her teenaged son was in some inexplicable digestive agony. He was released without having a Covid19 test which made me nuts. My youngest grandson swallowed Legos. I couldn’t wait for bedtime. Just one of those wake ups you’d rather forget.

Donald J. Trump

@realDonaldTrump

SCHOOLS MUST OPEN IN THE FALL!!!

1:40 PM · Jul 6, 2020

444.3K

158.7K people are

In Germany, Denmark, Norway, Sweden and many other countries, SCHOOLS ARE OPEN WITH NO PROBLEMS. The Dems think it would be bad for them politically if U.S. schools open before the November Election, but is important for the children & families. May cut off funding if not open!

The next day started with Trump’s unhinged comments on opening U.S. schools in the fall, including the threat of cutting federal funding to them if they choose to put their students’ health ahead of his re-election objectives. This infuriating drivel in the midst of the accelerated rate of Covid19 infection in this country wasn’t what I needed after the previous day’s irritations. So I made my way out to my backyard and my tiny pool which is my current substitute for the swimming I so desperately miss right now.

I slipped my headphones on, put my feet in the water and focused on relaxing. After a short time, I felt the familiar deep rumbling of that seismic shift I was talking about, the one associated with the deep grief I still feel over Michael’s death and the inconsolable sense of loneliness connected only with him. So the wailing burst from me in a series of mini-convulsions that are shocking in their physicality. I’ve learned that there’s nothing to do but let them complete their cycle until I’m left at the end, exhausted, with not much left inside. These don’t happen that frequently any more but I expect they’ll be my companions intermittently for the rest of my life. Big consuming love comes with the expense of its absence. I wouldn’t trade away any of it. My approach was always and remains, full speed ahead, embracing the euphoric and wonderful along with the gaping hole and the despair. Yes. Full speed ahead.

I was pretty spent but took a stroll around the garden where there’s always something to lighten the mood. I decided to try staying away from the news which is never an easy choice for me. One day off won’t hurt anything. I was going to focus on finding some laughter and lightness. Maybe the stars were aligned for me because when I went inside to seek a television line-up, often a wasteland for me, there were some serendipitous options for a change. I mean, really, does Gladiator have to be playing every single night for seven straight days? Or Kevin Costner’s pathetic excuse for a Robin Hood film when everyone knows the Errol Flynn one from the 1930’s is the best?

youtube

I was lucky enough to find Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. I’ve always found that movie really funny. This scene, filmed in my hometown of Chicago, never fails to make me smile.

That was followed by the fabulous screwball comedy, Bringing Up Baby, starring Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant. Good acting and great writing hold up over decades and I’m so glad I know how to yank myself out of a dark space using old reliable films.

I finished my mental rehab with the Marx Brothers’ Night at the Opera. Sometimes slapstick works and sometimes it doesn’t, but ridiculous zingers and mad physical antics worked like a tonic for me. All in all, fairly easy ways to revive myself after a big slump. For the rest of the night, I cut myself some slack and just let my mind wander. I started thinking about the different television shows I watched when I was growing up.

There was Lassie, Fury, My Friend Flicka and Annie Oakley. I was always partial to animals and Westerns. I often have conversations with my daughter about how much tv time is too much time for kids these days. Maybe the level of sophisticated technology and the dynamic relationship between the person and the device is really different from how sitting in front of the tube was back in the day. But I certainly watched a lot of shows. And I didn’t get lazy or stupid. I read a lot of books, too. But I suspect there were people in my generation for whom that sedentary part of their lives had adverse effects. Maybe the difference between now and then really isn’t that dramatic. Or maybe I just feel like being optimistic and naive for awhile. Truthfully, it’s a welcome relief to being grounded in today’s dystopian reality.

I realized that I’ve been so intent on the pandemic, its effect on the foreseeable future and the constraints I’m wrestling with, that I hadn’t gone out in several days to look up. The clouds and skies are always so interesting and soothing for me. So I got back with the program. I was glad I did. Later, when I discussed what I’d felt like on the lousy day with my daughter, I told her that fundamentally, I thought I’d been doing pretty well under the circumstances. Ever the nihilist, she told me she agreed that for a person who was living alone, in a seemingly endless lockdown, with perhaps this current Groundhog Day life being the way my old age would end, I was doing fantastic. I have to say, her comment made me roar with laughter. I’ve risen from the depths again. As I said, full speed ahead. Maybe to nowhere, but whatever.

Full Steam Ahead Sometimes things just have to blow, out of nowhere, for no reason in particular. Internal seismic shifts.

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startrekvigilant · 5 years

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Earth in the year 2395 functions in a very different manner to any other comparable society we've known. It's a constantly moving wash of cultures and species. It's a utopia, but the point of this show is making the audience understand that even a utopic society can have corruption.

Since First Contact, vulcans have helped humans get back on their feet, and after a century of cleaning up the mess we made of each other and the planet, Earth is a comforting and enjoyable place to be. Maslow's hierarchy of needs is always fulfilled when an individual needs it, there's no longer capitalism so there's no need to slave away at a job you despise to survive.

People work because they find joy in it, people interact because they want to.

In the 24th century privacy is sacred, and if you need to be alone it's just as easy to find as it is to be sociable. Keep in mind the sheer amount of destruction the combined forces of the Eugenics Wars, WWIII, and the Dystopian Years did to the planet. Many places are unrecognizable, destroyed, changed, built up or completely abandoned. Many parts of the globe are still hazardous wastelands, some have been bombed completely off the map.

So what I'm trying to get at is that earth is structured into four main parts.

Most of the area in the world is made up of empty space as 90% of the current population reside in heavily built-up urban areas. The total population of Earth is kind of impossible to tell since many people are coming and going so quickly, however, there is about 9 billion individuals who claim earth as their permanent place of residence, meaning they live on the surface for most of the earth year.

These people live all over - cities, suburbs, farms, etc. But just please remember the world is a much different place. No one cares about countries, or nationalities or passports in the same way we do now.

This doesn't mean they no longer exist! It's just a formality now. Think of it like the brontosaurus. We know now that these creatures were actually a mix up of two separate creatures and eventually re-categorized them - but the name stuck. It's the same way for the places on a map.

Borders and state lines don't actually exist, but we still refer to places as "The Canadian/American border" because we have for so long. "Canada" and "The United States of America" aren't real places, they're just names we use to describe certain surroundings.

All of earth is accessible and no human is illegal.

Turns out people move around on the surface in fairly predictable patterns. Ribbons of human movement flow through habitable parts of the planet like rivers, and certain areas build up into impossible numbers. These huge areas crammed full of people are referred to as a megalopolis.

in other areas of the globe, sometimes surrounding a megalopolis and sometimes not, there are rows upon rows of homes commonly referred to a "The Endless Suburbia." Where these rivers of human populace taper out, there is only the pristine and cared for ecosystems, untouched wilderness and organized farmland.

The Wilderness

in the aftermath of WWIII, when the bombs finally stopped and society collapsed, human structures were engulfed by nature once more, and the planet began to take back a part of itself. Centuries later, these parts of the world are vast expanses unchecked old-growth forests and ecosystems. Yet remember the wilderness isn't empty of human activity - many on Earth still chose the Wild over civilization, or live a nomadic life outside of the monolithic cities and the endless rows of houses that surround them, living in these parts of the globe on traditional homesteads and campgrounds. The possibility of meeting another human without prior planning is slim. Much of the planet is empty space, wide open spaces where nature is finally able to heal itself.

mega + metropolis = megalopolis

typically defined as a chain of roughly adjacent metropolitan areas, coined approximately around 1915. In 2395 it's a term used to describe behemoth cities, towering into the atmosphere. They're a whirl of movement at every given time, filled with humans and aliens alike. Earth is the home of the federation after all, and these places really prove that. They exist all over the world and each one is vastly different from the other. it's a mishmash of strong human cultures and strange new alien ones. There are people everywhere. But there are also many parks, trees, gardens, and overall greenery. But the buildings are what make up everything, with hardly any horizon or break to it. For someone not used to it, it could give a person horrible vertigo.

Megalopolis' are made up of levels on a scale of 1-9.

In a level one section of a city, interaction between people is quiet and minimal. A very kind place to overwhelmed human beings or shy new arrivals. It's where many the of the senior homes and nurseries are found, as well as where the sleep pods originate - small and private enclosures with a bed and covers. They have padded walls, touch screens and dim lighting, designed to keep a single person safe and warm for however long they need.

As the levels go higher, so to does the social engagement. Level two has beautiful cafes and libraries; level three is what we would consider the shopping district, but in a society that has little to no concept of capitalism, it operates itself in a very different way. The overall feel to it is that of a giant mall - complete with food courts and window shopping.

Levels 5-7 have the best bars, restaurants, and dance clubs. It's where a majority of people live, and host some of the more famous landmarks. Level 8 have intricate, beautiful gardens and first class dining experiences. It's the most romantic of all the levels, with cascading fountains and winding canals.

Level 9 is for adults only. It's where the brothels are, where free love is found willingly and you're never really alone, baby. Level 9 is a place of excess, a never ending pride parade. Many festivals and concerts happen on level 9, and it always kind of feels like it's your birthday when you're there.

Now when I say level, I don't mean one stacked on top of the other per se, but the general idea is that each of these cities on earth are divided up into the nine sections similarly, even though each megalopolis is unique from the other. These places are always changing, moving and growing like an organic creature. It's easy to move from one level to the other, or jump between them. There are huge transporting stations on each level, with people phasing in and out constantly, from any and every different place on earth. The skies are filled with movement, shuttle pods and flying cars, zooming about different regions of the stratosphere. There is no real ground level, it all just meshes together.

Endless Suburbia

Exactly like it sounds. Just huge swaths of land stretching out for miles, all filled with houses. It looks a lot like what suburbia does today, except without roads or fences. It's beautiful well kept front yards, with criss-crossing walkways to connect them. The homes are pristine, either filled with families who have been living there for years, or completely empty, waiting for someone who needs to use a roof over their head. There are parks and nature reserves, but mostly it's row upon row of backyards and homes of every different size and style.

the things we consider private property in the 21st century (houses, cars, yards, etc) have taken new forms after the centuries of dramatic changes on earth. There are no more roads; all that activity takes place stratosphere. You'd think that would cause havoc on the weather, and you'd be right! Except for the fact that according to Gene Roddenberry (CITATION NEEDED) Humanity now has the power to control the weather...possibly thanks to the vulcans? Anyway the daily traffic of people coming and going happens too high to disturb the local fauna, flora and person. But what happens if there's a crash, or an explosion? That's what shields are for, dummy! Starfleet uses the same technology to protect starships that hold the same amount of people as a local township in endless suburbia, so it's feasible to think there's this similar bubble over heavily population regions on earth.

Looking at a map today it's hard to distinguish where these regions would be...I know for sure the main one is in North America, Starting in Alaska, it cuts through western Canada, the central united states, ending in south eastern Mexico. the east coast of the American continent is in ruins. Some of it is still irradiated. the western coast is similar but on a much smaller scale. the Megalopolis' in North America are located around the great lakes, and several are in the arctic circle.

FARM COUNTRY

of course earth would still be producing food the traditional way, agriculture is still an essential part of human society, it's physically changed the landscape of the planet. Most of the southern west coast of North America (Turtle Island) is made up of these hundreds of thousands of individual and collectively owned farms.

The countries that used to make up most of the middle east and some of south west Africa are drastically different after the events of the eugenics war, world war three, and the dystopian years that followed until First Contact. The east coast of North America - from New York to Florida - was hit particularity hard in the War Years, and in fact much of the major metropolitan areas on the coast are still considered to have dangerous levels of radiation that it is still healing from.

However, even though the areas from Southern BC extending to the gulf of California were also bombed during the war years, the damage was not nearly as extensive as the east coast. As a result, this area was able to recover much more quickly, with added thanks to the combined efforts of both humans and vulcans during the Great Rebuilding.

#original content #writing #this is a lot of my own speculation but also is seen in canon as well #star trek #to be edited #long post

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instantdeerlover · 4 years

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The Chicago (Quarantine) Dinner & A Movie Guide added to Google Docs

The Chicago (Quarantine) Dinner & A Movie Guide

If you’re like us, right now your evenings revolve around two main questions: What to eat, and what to watch. Because let’s face it, there isn’t much else to do. So we’re here to make sure you’re doing dinner and a movie right. Below, you’ll find our picks for great delivery, and the perfect classic (according to us) movie to pair with it. We’ll be updating this regularly.

The spots J.P. Graziano Grocery & Sub Shop $ $ $ $ American , Sandwiches in West Loop $$$$ 901 W Randolph St 8.0 /10

Movie Pairing: Minority Report (Netflix)

“This 20-year-old sci-fi movie (based on a 1956 short story) takes place in 2054, and it’s always fun to see what older sci-fi gets right. In Minority Report’s case, it predicted targeted advertising long before attorney ads started appearing on your phone after a fight with your spouse. And seeing pre-crime cop Tom Cruise frantically wave his haptic gloves in front of a sophisticated future computer is even better when paired with the carefully-engineered sandwiches from GP Graziano. For example, the muffuletta, which has the perfect ratio of meat to giardiniera to fluffy bread. It’s also a nice nod to the sandwich Cruise doesn’t end up eating after his black market eye replacement surgery. But you should definitely eat yours before that scene - it’s pretty gross.” -AK

Bavette's Bar and Boeuf $ $ $ $ American , Steaks in River North $$$$ 218 W. Kinzie St. 8.8 /10

Movie Pairing: Clue (Prime)

“Bavette’s is my favorite place to eat far, far too much, and forget about the concepts of time and space and sobriety. But it also possesses the same mysteriousness that you’ll find in Clue. Whenever I eat here, I spend most of my time creating backstories for everyone else in the room and theorizing how we all ended up in the same dark and indulgent hall of meat at the same time. And even if none of us can currently experience that in person, sitting on my couch with a ribeye, bacon, creamed spinach, and some sourdough while watching Tim Curry do his Tim Curry thing is almost just as good. Just don’t touch my chocolate cream pie, or else the story’s going to end with, “Me. In the kitchen. With the lead pipe.” -MB

Lao Sze Chuan $ $ $ $ Chinese in Chinatown $$$$ 2172 S Archer Ave 7.8 /10

Movie Pairing My Cousin Vinnie (Hulu)

“I’ve always wondered why Marissa Tomei’s character Mona Lisa Vito in My Cousin Vinny is so hellbent on getting Chinese food in rural Alabama. They’ve just arrived in town after a nearly 16-hour drive where her fiance (Joe Pesci AKA Vincent Gambini AKA Joey Gallo AKA Jerry Callo) has to defend his nephew and another innocent young kid from getting put in the electric chair. One of the first words out of her mouth is “I bet the Chinese food here is terrible.” She’s being sarcastic, but there’s a deep layer of frustration in what she’s saying. I guess when you’re craving Chinese, nothing else will do. Order the salt and pepper prawns and the twice-cooked pork from Lao Sze Chaun and watch Tomei put on one of the best performances in movie history.” -CM

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INFATUATION NEWSLETTER Get our newest guides & reviews first,

plus more restaurant intel you won't find anywhere else. TRVL ATL ATX BOS CHI LDN LA MIA NYC PHL SF SEA DC Subscribe Smart move. Excellent information will arrive in your inbox soon. Do you have friends and family who also eat food? Enter their emails below and we’ll make sure they’re eating well. (Don’t worry, we won’t subscribe them to our newsletter - they can do that themselves.) Help Your Friends No Thanks Well done. You’re a good person. All good. We still like you. Want to quickly find restaurants on the go? Download The Infatuation app. Frontier $ $ $ $ American in Noble Square $$$$ 1072 N Milwaukee Ave Not

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Movie Pairing: Cabin In The Woods (Hulu)

“I’ve had the privilege of seeing Cabin In The Woods with a skeptic who didn’t know anything about it. They were expecting a typical horror movie, and it was deeply gratifying to watch their surprise as it slowly registered how funny this movie is. And because most of Cabin In The Woods takes place (wait for it) in a cabin in the woods, it goes perfectly with food from Frontier, a restaurant that actually has antelope on the menu. You can go full cabin-mode and get elk or wild boar. Or take a cue from the movie and do a genre switcheroo. Order Frontier’s “stoner dinner” that includes a cheesesteak, flamin’ hot Cheetos, and red-velvet deep-fried oreo. What’s this spot doing with this particular meal on their menu? It doesn’t matter, just appreciate the surprise.” -AK

Pho 777 $$$$ 1065 W Argyle St

Movie Pairing: The Muppet Movie (Disney Plus)

“There are some things in this world that have an immediate calming effect. In this case, though, I’m referring to the opening notes of “The Rainbow Connection” played by Kermit the Frog at beginning of The Muppet Movie - not anything that comes in gummy form. The second I hear that banjo, I take a deep breath and know that for the next 97 minutes, I get to sit in a warm, content state and wonder things like, “But why a Studebaker?” and “Was there really a market demand at the Bogen County Fair for dragonfly ripple ice cream?” Pho makes me feel similarly, especially the Tai Bo Vien at Pho 777. It comes with round steak and those mysterious squeaky meatballs, and just the smell of the broth makes me feel f*ckng great. However, a gummy for dessert doesn’t seem like the worst idea either.” -MB

Split Rail $ $ $ $ American , Bar Food , Gastropub in Humboldt Park $$$$ 2500 W Chicago Ave 7.7 /10

Movie Pairing: My Girl (Netflix)

“My family used to own funeral homes. Like, seriously, Six Feet Under-style. Thankfully the business was sold before I was born, so I didn’t experience growing up in one. But my dad did, and that’s who I saw My Girl with for the first time. And he, a 46-year-old man, identified with 11-year-old Vada Sultenfuss even more than I did (an actual 11-year-old girl). Everything about this movie is very nostalgic and makes me feel coming-of-agey and sweet. Well, except for the traumatizing bee scene. Either way, nothing goes better with that feeling than a plate of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and fluffy biscuits from Split Rail.” -AK

Machine: Engineered Dining & Drink $$$$ 1846 W Division St

Movie Pairing: Tank Girl (Netflix)

“Tank Girl combines two of my favorite movie things: a post-apocalyptic wasteland and awesome futuristic hair. And while Mad Max is the dystopian GOAT, during this current situation I’ll take brightly colored ass-kickings delivered by Lori Petty over the grim brooding of Furiosa anytime. Basically, it’s the feel-good post-apocalyptic movie you didn’t know you needed. And nothing goes better with the fun, ridiculous tone of this film than one of the slightly-silly cocktails from Machine (they come with candy cages and a little hammer), and pairing it with a giant bag of Cool Ranch Doritos.” -AK

Tempesta Market $ $ $ $ Sandwiches , Deli in West Town $$$$ 1372 W Grand Ave 8.2 /10

Movie Pairing: _The Other Guys (Neflix)

“ I like The Other Guys so much I re-named my Wifi network Dirty Mike & The Boys. And every time I watch it, there’s something hilarious that I hadn’t noticed before. Like when I found out that the scene where Will Ferrel explains to Mark Whalberg that a lion attacking a tuna would be a bad idea was completely improvised. I could go on about all the phenomenal details in this movie, and how there’s truly just no wasted space at all. It’s hard not to say the same about Tempesta Market’s menu, where everything on it feels essential. Besides their delicious sandwiches (including a bacon, lettuce, tomato, egg, and giant hashbrown creation called the “Potato-nator”), they also sell a ton of stuff that will keep your pantry stocked. From Italian staples like giardiniera, dry pasta, and olive oil to wine, beer, meat, cheese, and gelato. If you’re (understandably) feeling like Whalberg’s character right now (“IT’S A BAD TIME, BOB!”), order something from Tempesta.” -CM

Gene’s Sausage Shop $$$$ 4750 N Lincoln Ave

Moving Pairing: Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (Netflix)

“You know what I want to do right now? I want to go outside and dance in a crowd and sing in the street and take a joy ride in a vintage Ferrari while the Star Wars theme song plays in the background. Yes, I want to be Ferris for an afternoon. This movie makes me think of everything great about Chicago in the springtime - and like all great things in life, includes a nonsensical parade that peaks with the greatest lip-syncing of “Twist & Shout” ever filmed. Unfortunately, none of this is currently possible. So instead, I’ll settle for watching Cameron’s Seurat-induced epiphany over a few brats from Gene’s and pretend to be Abe Froman, the sausage king of - well, my apartment - for the day.” -MB

Sun Wah $ $ $ $ Chinese , BBQ in Uptown $$$$ 5039 N Broadway St 8.1 /10

Movie Pairing: Arrival (Prime)

From the minute Arrival starts, it’s clear that the stakes are as high as possible: the fate of the human race is in question because aliens. This is the kind of movie I live for - one that makes me so anxious I feel like I’m going to puke because I’m so invested in the characters, even with their giant flaws (this is also why I’m a Bulls fan). Therefore, the best way to watch Arrival is with as little distraction as possible since there’s already a lot going on (like how can a language make you time travel??). That’s why getting a barbecued duck combo from Sun Wah is ideal - you can just hold the takeout container up to your mouth and mindlessly eat as you watch Amy Adams try to save humanity.

Dimo's Pizza $ $ $ $ Pizza in Wrigleyville $$$$ 3463 N Clark St Not

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Movie Pairing: Gremlins (Amazon)

“Hear me out: we are all Gizmo right now. After a month of being at home without access to my salon, gym, and favorite restaurants, I can definitely relate to the transformation from a sweet, adorable mogwai into a bitter, hideous gremlin - not to mention the compulsion to eat a ton of junk food after midnight. And eating something that only a child or drunk person (like mac and cheese pizza or s’mores pizza) from Dimo’s is what we all need. It’s the ultimate in pandemic f*ck it food.” -AK

via The Infatuation Feed https://www.theinfatuation.com/chicago/guides/the-chicago-quarantine-dinner-a-movie-guide Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://trello.com/userhuongsen

Created April 27, 2020 at 11:50PM /huong sen View Google Doc Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1xa6sRugRZk4MDSyctcqusGYBv1lXYkrF

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adambstingus · 5 years

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7 Dumb Back To The Future Products You Won’t Believe Existed

A good 80 percent of Cracked’s content is devoted to peeling back the kaleidoscopic layers of WTF-ness contained within Back To The Future, but this article isn’t about that. Nope, this is about an even more ridiculous topic: the many confounding ways people tried to squeeze big bucks out of the Back To The Future flicks.

This ordinary tale of a time-travelling eccentric and his pet teenager has spawned such baffling shit as …

#7. The Back To The Future Cartoon Was A Fucking Crazy Parade

As we’ve mentioned before on the site, Doc Brown’s character-concluding decision to father children with a historically dead woman and blast through time in a screeching lightning train was reckless at best. And so it’s only natural that the 1991 Back To The Future TV show would follow the horrific mishaps of this family, sandwiched with live-action science demonstrations by Christopher Lloyd and an oddly mute Bill Nye.

They’re like the Penn and Teller of mad science.

But despite its audience of the young and curious, an average episode of Back To The Future: The Animated Series played out like Rick And Morty episodes Adult Swim rejected for being too bleak. Don’t believe us? The pilot for the series starts with Doc’s younger son Verne stealing the time machine and traveling to the Civil War … followed by Doc finding a photo revealing that little Verne died for the Confederate Army.

“But hey, it says here that the Alabama chapter of the KKK is named in his honor.”

Doc eventually prevents this by creating a truce between Verne’s Confederate pals and the Union, and the gang happily flies home like they didn’t just irrevocably alter the outcome of a Civil War battle. That’s basically the story of the series, as Doc, Marty, and Doc’s kids manhandle historical moments while Doc’s wife Clara waits back home with sandwiches.

In the third goddamn episode, Doc brings his kids to the very moment the dinosaurs are wiped out by a meteor, saving the group by hastily stopping the comet and changing the future into a lizard-ruled wasteland. (One of said lizards looks like Biff, implying that a Tannen once fucked a dinosaur.)

This means that Doc is forced to go back and kill the dinosaurs himself, re-altering his actions so that the meteor gets back on a collision course with Earth … but not before one of his kids befriends a scared pterodactyl. So how does Doc handle this unfortunate attachment? Obviously, the rest of the series would involve the group goofing around with their adopted dino friend. I mean, otherwise, he’d have to …

… tear his son from the sobbing grasp of a doomed animal …

… stuff him into the time machine and fly away …

This also serves as the official series finale for The Flintstones.

… and watch as the comet tears through the atmosphere and vaporizes the boy’s dinosaur pal. That’s seriously what happens in the special “watch all the dinosaurs die” episode of this nightmare series. Happy Saturday morning, assholes!

#6. A Japanese Video Game Made BTTF 2 Into Crazy-Ass Anime

Anyone who played the early Back To The Future Nintendo games knows that whoever made them clearly didn’t bother to see the movies. Either that, or Back To The Future Part III cut a scene in which Marty ingests a crazy amount of peyote and starts seeing mutant cow men everywhere.

Presumably named “Beef Tannen.”

The Japan-only Back To The Future Part II Super Famicom game, on the other hand, tried to follow the plot of movie … and somehow ended up being even weirder. You control Marty, who spends the entire time on his hoverboard — because, realistically speaking, if you owned a hoverboard, why the fuck would you ever not be flying around on it?

The game starts on a grimly prescient note, with trigger-happy 2015 cops shooting at Marty for no apparent reason.

When we reach the alternate 1985, Marty goes around fighting disoriented crackheads, mistaking their agonized gasps for taunting chicken noises. Marty then discovers his murdered father’s tombstone, and he … seems pretty copacetic with this development, all things considered.

Doc, on the other hand, turns into an angry pink Gollum.

If you’ve ever wanted to see these iconic moments reimagined as demented Sailor Moon episodes, you’re in luck. When Marty discovers the 1950s girlie mag instead of the sports almanac, the mere sight of boobs gives him a stroke.

Which is weird, because this is after meeting his mother’s gargantuan dystopian breasts. Marty’s perma-smirk in that scene is somehow even creepier than when he was standing at his dead dad’s grave.

Also, why are they in the Technodrome?

By the time Biff seemingly vampire-bites the almanac away from Marty and gets covered in a sea of 16-bit horseshit, you’ll probably never see Back To The Future the same way ever again.

“I won’t close my mouth. I deserve this.”

And speaking of which …

#5. A Hot Wheels Biff Car … Complete With Manure

There aren’t a ton of Back To The Future toys, but the ones that do exist are mostly DeLorean-based. There’s a DeLorean Lego set, a remote-control DeLorean, and even a Power-Wheels-esque DeLorean for ’80s kids whose parents wanted them to explore their confused Oedipal feelings outside the house.

Sadly, this kid was easily taken out by Libyan terrorists.

So it’s only natural that the DeLorean be adopted by stalwart toy car company Hot Wheels. Recently, the company decided to expand their Back To The Future line to include not only Doc’s DeLorean …

Oh, sorry. Doc’s “Time Machine of Indeterminate Brand.”

And Marty’s sweet 4×4 …

“Complete with two coats of wax and Fat Biff’s tears!”

And even Biff Tannen’s Ford Super Deluxe Converti– oh, shit.

You can get a non-poopy version for an extra $300.

Yes, they produced a beautiful classic automobile overflowing with rancid manure, as seen in that scene and that other scene and that variation of the scene. It looks like an amusing Internet Photoshop job, but it’s a real toy which you could go buy right now … or, you know, make at home yourself with a toy car and some laxatives.

Couldn’t Hot Wheels have mass-produced Doc’s hover-train? Or one of those kickass police cars from 2015? Nope. Instead, we get the shit-encrusted rapemobile. Think of all the ways kids could play with this. “Oh no, Biff’s car got covered in manure … again …” Assuming your kid even knows what Back To The Future is, how are they supposed to integrate Biff’s car with their other Hot Wheels products?

“Yes! The race is delayed due to track turds!”

#4. ZZ Top Turns All The Characters Into Ogling Creeps

Along with “The Power of Love,” Huey Lewis and the News wrote “Back In Time,” the surprisingly engaged recounting of the events of Back To The Future from Marty’s perspective. Sadly, we were less lucky with ZZ Top’s “Doubleback,” a jabbering spray of temporally-themed rhymes in no way related to the third film.

The one band you’d think you could trust to hitch their beer-drinking, hell-raising wagon to Wake-Up Juice, but noooooo.

Now, “Doubleback” is a fucking abomination, an artistic charley horse clearly farted out 12 minutes from the studio call time. But then there’s the music video, which superimposes the band into random clips from the movie in such a disjointed, cookie cutter way that it comes alive like a serial killer’s scrapbook.

GOOF: ZZ Top were only teenagers in 1885, so they shouldn’t have beards yet.

It’s everyone’s third-favorite time travel movie, perpetually interrupted with the looming presence of three guys who look like the personification of bathroom assault. By the end, they’re literally sticking their faces over the action so that we don’t forget to be bummed out by their existence.

We’re all for them supplanting Marty’s mom in this scene to make it less creepy, though.

But the weird stuff begins when this monochromatic onslaught changes the movie’s finale to include a pimped-out ride randomly rolling into Marty’s standoff with Mad Dog Tannen …

… and releasing three jean-short bombshells of various ’90s fabric patterns and foxy accessories, to which the movie’s characters react with stock disbelief appropriated from the original scene.

OK, we have to admit that these guys clean up nicely when they shave.

That’s right — Doc reacting to Marty’s fakeout death is the same expression as his boner face. Or maybe he’s wondering how a Cadillac Sedanette went back in time without a bunch of nonsense sticking out of its hood. Either way: boner.

#3. Pizza Hut’s Back To The Future Ads Are Rather Sad In Retrospect

Having the ability to engorge on a puck of meat and cheese has been every child’s dream since Marty’s mom hydrated a Pizza Hut pizza in Back To The Future II.

The most fantastic concept here is a 2015 pizza without a gimmicky crust.

So delicious. At least, if you ignore the fact that eating a waterlogged dough slice sounds like a fucking nightmare, and that the Pizza Hut of this future solely makes the equivalent of microwave meals. In fairness, the brand’s own advertising campaign had a slightly different take on their role in the future:

Their kinder, gentler take on Robocop was probably their lamest (and most inaccurate) prediction of all.

According to one 1989 commercial, the Pizza Huts of 2015 are built like techno mosques. It makes sense in the context of the ad, which begins with two unknown ruffians taking the DeLorean out for a spin, presumably after swiping the keys from Doc Brown’s ransacked corpse.

To save you 15 minutes on IMDb: It’s Mikey from Parker Lewis Can’t Lose.

The ne’er-do-wells zoom to 2015, where, to the sad grumbles of their stomachs, they find the streets barren of any pizza eateries, as Domino’s has long been converted into a hardware chain. Luckily, there’s still one place in business, and it’s the all-hail Pizza Hut temple.

The Noid was executed after a show trial in ’94.

It’s unclear why a restaurant that makes cookie-sized products needs multiple neon spires, but it probably has to do with the announcer’s assertion that, even in the future, Pizza Hut is the “only one place to get a great pizza.” The fact that Pizza Hut was envisioning an all-exclusive Demolition Man scenario with their brand is made that much more heartbreaking by the company’s actual 2015 situation:

Also depressing: the current state of journalism, since no one realized this graphic should be a pie chart.

Turns out that all the movie projector pizza boxes and eye-tracking tablet menus in the world can’t get us to that Utopian Italian palace where dressing like it’s the ’80s is still hip and (according to another tie-in ad) absolutely everyone wears futuristic solar shades.

The nuclear fallout has melted all of our eyes by now.

#2. Doc Brown Teamed Up With Doogie Howser For Earth Day

Back in 1990, people were really committed to saving the environment … as long as the extent of that commitment was appearing in some kind of extravagant TV special instead of cutting back on fossil fuels. Regardless, this newly-discovered sense of eco-awareness led to one of the craziest moments in pop culture: The Earth Day Special.

The special starred a slew of wacky creatures, like the Muppets and Danny DeVito and E.T., who looks to have been living in a filthy alley since the events of his film.

He’ll touch you with his “magic finger” for $5 and some Reese’s Pieces.

Since this was the year that Back To The Future Part III came out, Doc Brown naturally joined the cross-promotional fray. Who better to promote environmental activism than a guy who hoards large quantities of plutonium in a garage in a residential neighborhood?

The loose plot of the special is about the personification of Mother Earth dying. Doc Brown shows up in his DeLorean and offers his assistance to the doctor in charge of healing Mrs. Earth — who, because this was 1990, is Doogie Fucking Howser.

“Not even Edward James Olmos’ mustache could revive her.” “We’re doomed.”

Doc whips out his suitcase TV and shows them footage of how screwed over the Earth is, which is kind of a dick move, considering how she’s right over there. It doesn’t help that the clips are seemingly stock footage pretentiously edited together by first-year film students.

“What are those ladies doing with that cup …?” “Whoops, wrong year.”

As always, Doc ends up finding the solution: science! Not any specific science but, like, the act of reading and shit. Look, it was 6 a.m. and someone wanted to finish that goddamn children’s TV show script already.

#1. The Back To The Future Novelization Gets Dark

Movie novelizations are generally terrible, but the one for Back To The Future takes it to a whole new level. It’s the Back To The Future of bad literary cash-ins.

“What do you mean it’s not about a kid with a camera who farts fireworks?” — the author, probably

The book opens with a vivid description of a dead family getting bent out of shape by the detonation of a nuclear bomb, which turns out to be a scene from a film Marty is watching. This never comes up again in the book — because the author is too busy thinking up even crazier, tangentially BTTF-related shit. For instance, we get a scene featuring the Libyan terrorists casually hanging out in a shitty motel, which answers the question you always had: Yes, one of them is a psychotic former fashion model.

You can only be told to look “sexy like tiger” so many times before something inside snaps.

And she doesn’t mind offing Doc Brown because he … “looks Jewish.”

Doc goes commando in his jumpsuits in this version.

Even when it’s a scene we recognize from the movie, the author’s prose manages to make everything seem a tiny bit seedier:

Not that “Let’s hire your attempted rapist as our live-in manservant” is any less creepy.

The novel also features the most disturbing context for the phrase “giggled naughtily” in all of fiction:

A parent’s naughty giggling is typically reason #1 Protective Services gives when taking away their child.

The whole book is so bizarre and creepy that it wouldn’t be surprising to learn that it was imported from the shitty alternate 1985. And we’re only scratching the surface here. A whole other book could be written just pointing out all the fucked up moments, page by page. Did we say “could”? We meant “someone on the Internet did exactly that.”

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/7-dumb-back-to-the-future-products-you-wont-believe-existed/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/181924707857

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allofbeercom · 5 years