We all know them most actual matter right now is the war against terror which is “not a war against religions or countries” (Government denies knowledge). Islamic fundamentalists hate a handful of tendencies in USA, as well as a lot of others might do, so therefore they kill a couple of thousand more or less civilians and then they and their religion will probably become much more popular…! Everybody will just love them! Love them because they are afraid to go into open war, love them because they kill innocent people even though the dead might not even know about the terrorist’s cause. Love them because they try to achieve their goals by frightening people, as you by the way sometimes see in the major religions!
I don’t love them, as I'm sure you don’t. As Jack would say:” A religious war is nothing but a bunch of people fighting over who has the best imaginary friend!” I think it is pathetic to fight about anything, but most of all a cover, because these religious wars are battles of power! A battle, in which the winner will be able to dictate people into doing things, hence to be a religious leader must be the highest status a power-seeking Middle-eastern old man could ever achieve. What we might often fail to see is that not all religions have this need of power as its often said about all religions – often it is said that all religions are alike. The general opinion about religion is usually the following:
- Dogmatic: An angry old man who wishes to control or judge everyone.
- Something that will define human limits.
- A game of power
- A total explanation of the world “This is how things are. Period!”
I have experienced that the truth is something entirely different, for me the truth is that all the religions are the same, what often fuck a religion up is when power comes into the picture – power is something humans have created.
The problem is when a person asks if you are Christian or belong to some other totalitarian dogmatic religion, your answer can be two different things, Yes or No (basically). If you say yes, the holy grave will stay well preserved and you agree on that God is great and good and that others who do not believe in God are fools and ignorant or whatever. You can also say no, and the faithful must try to convince you, so the faithful can continue to stay in the belief that they are telling the truth and that they never make mistakes. If such two persons meet, problems occur quickly and they can get into a fight (worst case scenario). You often se in these totalitarian dogmatic judgeful religions bogeys like “If you don’t behave then the Troll will come for you! And that’s bad… reeeeaaall baaaad! So be a nice girl/boy like me and then you’ll manage just fine!”
Another problem occurs when you trust the “old scripts” and the hieratic power sharing. Who ever wrote these in the past could might as well have been junkies with nothing better to do than write these melodramatic cartoonish soap operas. Frequently we see that in religions there are some people who are closer to the Gods which means there are two things the worshippers can do; they can either nominate these persons to leaders, religious leaders as Dalai Lama, The Pope and Osama Bin Laden or they can see these persons as advisers from who they can take advise or just leave it be. Often when the first thing happens you get a system where the individual leaves “the salvation of the soul” to an institution e.g. the church, where the soul is in the hands of a priest or likewise. This can be the easiest thing to do, but from my point of view also the weaker, said people do not take responsibility for their actions. There shall be no doubt that I feel the system with the advisers is the best, in that system you will not be excluded because you do not take the advise given to you, hence you have a choice.
The problem is that not all religions are like that, I don’t know if it is the media or just society in general which makes it look like this.
Way too often all religions are taken as one institution and just made equal in belief and form, as a concept for pathetic people who are afraid to take responsibility for their own lives. But then again it all depends on the way you look at things. Its easy to claim that the religious people just need their religion to safely put away the things in life you cant explain or understand, they need a little box to put all of it in. Humans fear what they cannot control and I guess we all put these fears somewhere.
I think the problem is that people aren’t open enough, were we to be more open we might risk to be proven wrong and that would be terrible!
We all have our opinions on how things are, and if we hadn’t we would all just be empty zombies!

This is a submission from Frugt.05

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Remember when you were young? Let's just say between the ages of 4-10. Those action figures, stuffed animals, whatever you owned weren't just mere objects. They were your escape. You'd spend hours playing war with your G.I. Joes, the girl next door was drinking tea with her dolls, everything was cool. Five years old...and one day, you're out in the yard, slaying dragons as usual, brandishing your sword in the faces of your adversaries like a modern-day knight when about that time, your parents tell you it's getting dark, you need to come inside, etc. So you walk back towards your kingdom with your trusty sword. Upon entering the door, your mother quips, "Honey, don't bring that nasty stick inside the house. It's probably got bugs and fungus and god-knows-what on it. You look down at your hand, and clasped in your chivalrous grip is a moldy old stick. Not the shiny chrome sword you once wielded. The magic is gone. Part of your imagination is jolted.

Let's go a bit further. You're about 6-7 years old sitting in class. You look outside and the ground is coated in a fine, powdery foot of snow. Your teacher tells you to each get out a piece of paper, because you're all going to write letters to Santa Claus. You beam in excitement. You think, "Great!! I'll ask Santa for that new bike, or maybe a Nintendo or something." So you clap and holler along with a majority of the class while a young boy behind you mutters, "Santa's a load of crap." Horrified, you turn and face this disillusioned individual. He gives you a menacing grin. He's missing his front two teeth. He restates, "Santa's just something your parents told you to keep you amused. He's not real." You whisper back, "Really?" The kid replies, "Yeah. Come talk to me at recess." So you and him engage in a philosophical discussion about Santa Claus. You go home a little bit dejected and a little bit wiser, but your heart skips whenever your parents mention Santa to your little sister. Once again, the magic is gone.

These little experiences, these fleeting visions of enlightenment, become more common with age. You mature, begin to take interest in the opposite sex, hang out with your friends, and spend your parents' money. One day, they refuse to pay for you and tell you to get a job. You are angry at first, but then you begin to sympathize with them, as well as learn to budget and sometimes help out with the bills. Some of the innocence is gone, but you're all the wiser.

Once you hit the job market, you're set. You're making good money, you have a nice apartment, sporty car. You buy quirky, self-descriptive things to decorate your home. You have nice, brand-name clothes, and you come in every night to dinner, a few beers, and zone out on the TV or computer. You're on your own. One day at work, you walk in on a co-worker in the bathroom. He leaps as if terrified, and is snorting and sniffling furiously. He has a bit of white powder spilled on his dark-gray Polo tie, and his eyes are red and glazed. He offers you some..."Sure helps on these late hours." You accept, willingly. After about 15 minutes you become nervous and frantic. You scramble at everything you do and talk at an alarming speed. This drug is nothing like the joint you smoked before the senior prom, this stuff is like gasoline. You begin to hook up with your co-worker and coke buddy, "Brian". You now have something ELSE to spend your salary on. You have another vice. The innocence is gone, but you have new magic. You have nose-candy.

A year later, you find yourself in an uncontrollable downward spiral. You have a $5,000/mo. cocaine habit and are on the verge of losing your job. You can't keep a girlfriend. You quit your job, pack your things, trade in your sporty car for $15,000 cash and a $3,000 junker, and spend 10 of your $15,000 on coke. You rent a hotel room for a month.
All you need is just more...more....magic.

A month later, you're working for a shoddy remodeling company. You start drinking in the mornings with your alcoholic co-workers and get the jobs done slowly. You do shitty work and you retire to your hotel for a syringe full of heroin and a prostitute to shoot it up with you. And then you have unprotected sex with her, nightly. She's worried about the pus-filled sores that are beginning to form on her vagina. Your balls itch.
You go into a rage when you can't find a connection, and you're 2 weeks behind on paying the hotel bill. They're on the verge of kicking you out. But, you have the bottle.
The magic is fading.

A week after, you can't seem to make ends meet anymore. You lost your job, got kicked out of the hotel and wander around the streets babbling like a madman. It's been a week since you've shot up, but you can still follow a man down the alley and roll him for his wallet. However, not many rich people hang out in this area, and the most you've gotten is $20.00. No respectable drug dealer would sell 2 cc of his worst heroin for $20.00. So, you go buy a gallon of whiskey and a carton of cigarettes with your collective savings, and drown your sorrows. You vomit into a gutter, pass out and piss yourself on the sidewalk. The cops kick you out of the way under an awning. It'd be a waste of time for them to arrest you. You awake blurry-eyed, hocking up nasty, bloody wads of phlegm. You stink of the fermenting trash that you sleep in, and have developed a chronic, raspy cough. You start to talk to yourself more often and become unintelligible.
One day, you're following a black man down the alley. You run to tackle him and beat him senseless, but he is aware of you. He leaps forward as you sprawl to the ground in a half-drunken haze. He whips out a .357 Magnum from his jacket pocket and blows your brains onto the pavement.

The magic is gone.

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Anyone in the know (or Japan) has heard of those outrageous Japanese game shows. They put poisonous insects on people and the last one to chicken out wins, they sit in various uncomfortable substances and endure humiliating dares and circumstances. Well, all of that gets old. There’s no real human drama about it, now is there? It’s main prospect is that it represents the everyman put into strange circumstances.

Well, this tops all of them. This guy was put through what equates to a modern survival class. No clothes, no food, no ANYTHING. Plopped naked into a room with magazines, a huge pile of postcards, a table, a small radio, a telephone, some notebooks, and some pens. And it’s televised. Much more interesting than any reality based show I’ve ever seen (and it last more than a few weeks). If it weren’t such a repressive, mono-cultural, racist country I would love to live there. Instead I’m left with their scraps of TV and movies.

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How much of a freak are you? I didn't take the test, because I'm fairly certain that my rating would shame both myself and anyone else who takes the test. Actually, it's entirely too damn long for my patience. If you have a lot of time on your hands, go take the 500 Question Freak Test .

Are you feeling all together ookie and don't need no stinkin' test to tell you what your freak factor is? Then maybe you will like Horrorfind .
"Horrorfind.com the directory and search engine dedicated to Horror, Halloween and Spooky subjects."

Sheesh, I hope there are no naked pictures of Mr./Dr. Spooky in there.

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He screamed in fury as he kicked the television set. The large-screen Sony tipped over and exploded in a supernova of light. Breaking the silence. "You idiots!" he fumed. "Can you not see what this thing is DOING to us?" Blank stares, dumb, vacant gazes. "You broke it." one man grunted in monotone. The angry man screamed "What in the fuck? Did you not hear what I just said? This shit is rotting our brains! We gotta get outta here while we still can!" In a panic, his eyes darted around the room. White walls, white floors, white ceilings. Even ths lamps buzzed with a fluorescent white light. The other faces, pale and emaciated, looked at him with sunken, hollow eyes. The only contrast was the colors of their uniforms. Each person was dressed in a different shade of neon. Green, yellow, blue, pink, orange...all stood out from the bleached background, like stains on a canvas. "You broke it," a woman chimed in, with the same dull voice as the other. "SHUT UP!" screamed the angry man. "You stupid cunt!! You're all stupid!!" One fellow glanced upward with bright eyes. "I'm not...." while glancing at the angry man's name tag "...Moore." Moore took the guy by the hand and lifted him to his feet. "That's more like it!" Moore whooped. "Now let's rouse the rest of these listless losers and get the hell outta here!"
"YOU BROKE IT!" growled another man. They all began to rise.
"Holy shit! Moore, what're we gonna do?"
"I don't know. Go for the door."
They all began to chant "You broke it. You BROKE it! YOU broke IT! YOU BROKE IT!" Their tones became angry and menacing. Moore and the boy scrambled at the door. Locked from the outside. They looked at the windows, which were bars welded to the building's metal facade. "There's no way out!" screamed the young man. "Shut UP!" Moore retorted. He began to beat on the door. When that proved useless, he began flailing his limbs against the triple-paned Plexiglas. "FUCK!" he yelled. He began to smash his massive body against the door. It didn't budge, and the group was advancing toward them. One fellow brandished a knife and roared, "YOU BROKE IT!"
Sharp pains, hands grabbing, tearing hair and skin, beating of fists. The white-hot feeling of a blade tore into their bodies. At the sight of blood, the crowd grew angrier. They began tearing and beating on each other. Within an hour, everyone was in a bloody, screaming heap on the floor.
The doctors looked on through the glass, unimpressed. "Happens every time," one doctor said to the group. They all laughed heartily as one of them went over and picked up the telephone on the desk. "Yes, nurses' station? Send in the janitors to room 12 A."

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Konichiwa! I like tiny little asians!What's Your Fetish? Take the test at Nollykin's World.
Tell me What your Fetish is in the Comments!!

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Those of you familiar with the original Blade will know of Wesley Snipe's 'Daywalker'. Half Vampire, half human, all the strengths and abilities of Vampires, but with a special serum that appeases his need for blood, he's a vampire hunter. And he has a fucking cool car.

The original was an extremely stylish, very silly, very violent action movie. It was extremely good in this respect. For the sequel, it seems director Guillermo del Toro (Kronos, Mimic) has said "Right, the first one was good, but there was too much acting, plot, and characterisation. The result is one of the most visually exciting, consistently violent and stylish action movies of recent times.

And when I say consistently violent, I mean the film is pretty much one big fight sequence. It's magnificent. The plot, such that it is, concerns a new breed of undead (called 'Reapers] lead by none other than Matt Goss (from Bros), who actually does admirably. Not surprising, considering all he really has to do is hiss and wear about 7 tons of latex. These 'Reapers' are feeding on Vampires, and our man Blade is sequestered by the Vampire elite to lead a 'crack' team of vampires in battle against these nasty little fucks.

Lots of things get beaten, shot, blown up and eaten. Some of the completely unnecessary fight scenes (ex: two messengers from the vampires infiltrate Blade's stronghold to deliver a message, the fight scene lasts about 10 minutes - they could have knocked) are so over the top, Snipes and his human opponent are given a cup of tea and a comfy seat while CGI wizards take care of it. The CGI is sometimes a little ropey, but your disbelief is by this point suspended somewhere above the auditorium, so you don't really give a fuck. The reaper's are the foulest thing seen on screen since Predators (to which they owe a debt) and the love interest vampire chick is dull enough to not interfere with the ass kicking. Which is good.

For gods sake, Blade WWF-style suplexes people, Matt Goss does a flying elbow drop on Blade by jumping crouching-tiger style to the top of a room and plunging about 600ft onto his chest, elbow first. What's not to like?

Absolutely insane. A new dawn in completely brainless cinema. A fucking masterpiece. Really really stupid. Just see it for god's sake.

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