Sunday, 3 June 2012

Dawn of the Eventide

 Greetings! To mark the rebirth of this Blog, I bring you Brand new writings from my Fevered Brain!

Note before we start: 
Funky Monkey (me) speaks in GREEN.
Sursum Ursa (Awesome person you probably already follow) speaks in BLUE.
Happy Viking (Metal Dude you should be following) speaks in RED.
Our villain (Ze Maven of ze Eventide) speaks in PURPLE.

So without further ado, I present: Dawn of the Eventide! (Chapter 1)

An ordinary day, at the World-famous House of Love, headquarters of the Heroic Legion of Positive Reviewers. Sursum Ursa and her cats (twin black Tigers) John & Sherlock are out in the back garden, enjoying the sun. Funky Monkey is down in the Training room, taking target practice (gotta keep them twin gun skills sharp) and Happy Viking is Jamming in the Great hall, blowing out a Maxi-stack of amps with the latest Metal craze.

Like I said, an ordinary day. What is not so Ordinary are the dark stormclouds rolling across the horizon, like the beating of a thousand pairs of wings. An army of bats, enough to block out the sun.
Thus begins a tale of invasion!

“Oh man, Again?”
Yes, again. Look, I know. But this time there's vampires!
“Vampires? Sweet. Nothin' better'n crushin' a few suckheads of an afternoon. Plus we got one o' the almighty's own on the roster, makes for a hell of a ride! Tell your tale, O scribe of legend! And omit not the mighty Hammer of the Happy Viking!”

So, it was another seemingly ordinary day, when a thousand bats flew from the eastern coasts, to bring pain and panic unto the Legionnaires. Their Mistress, the until-that-time-decidedly-nonchalant Maven of the Eventide, had tired of the constant attacks against the Nostalgia Chick, a close Personal friend, at least in a previous life. To this end, she had sent this wave of her messengers to blot out the sun, and facilitate her conveyance.

It was unfortunate then, that none were in the Briefing room to see this. Of course, what with Ursa being outside and playing with her cats, she was the first to notice. She glanced up at the sky. “Weird,” she commented, “the forecast didn't say anything about... Bats?” Surmising that something was wrong, Ursa presently made her way to the Briefing room.
Main screen!” the Mainscreen flickered into life, showing a view from above. There was no mistaking it, a Thousand bats were hovering in unison about the House of Love. This was not good.

Thinking quickly, Ursa hit the silent alarm. In the Training room and the Great Hall, the others immediately got the signal, and made their way to the briefing room.

Funky was first to arrive of the two. “So what's the situation?
We seem to have a Bat infestation.
I told you, I'll clean out my Batman back issues when the pile reaches the line.
Ursa snerked. "Not what I meant. Take a look at the mainscreen."
Funky glanced toward the screen. “Yup, they're bats alright. So, what's to do?
About what exactly?” Viking always liked to make a grand entrance.
We appear to have a bat infestation, Mister Happy Viking.
Dude, you forget to clear out your Batman comics again?
Ursa rolled her eyes. “One would think you'd tire of that joke.
You been bitin' my material again, Funkster?
Just direct your attention to the Main Screen, Mr Viking.

Viking looked over the screeching cloud, as it edged past Camera 107, the western tip of the complex. The view automatically switched to Camera 448, The Overground mansion.
Bats, man. Bats mean either trouble, or Vampires.
Damn suckheads were all over back in 1886. And boy howdy do they love the Frozen North!

None of which, I fear, has anything to do with our current predic-
Ursa was abruptly cut off when the Main screen inexplicably flickered and flashed to a familiar image, That of the Maven of the Eventide...
Zo, you sink to sprread lies and half-truce about my dear friend, ze Nosssss.... Talgia Chick, eh? Ve shall jussst Ssee about Zat!
And just what in the name of that little blue box that is bigger on the inside do you mean by THAT, Madame Maven? Why, I'm quite certain that none of us have ever-
Actually...” Funky admitted, Sheepishly.
Tell me you haven't...” Viking shot him a glance that almost screamed “You DENSE MotherF**ker!”
Sorry guys...
Well Frak,” Ursa cursed under her breath. “Oh, dash it all, let's just deal with this. John! Sherlock! Yip Yip!

With that, the Twin tiger forms swirled and coiled, becoming Twin Armoured Bracers for Sursum Ursa. “By thunder, let's do some damage to this godless suckpuppy!

End of Chapter 1.

Saturday, 21 April 2012

Because Poetry is Awesome.

“So What *About* Me?” By Simon J Broome.

“So what about me?”
I’m British, y’see.
And Born and raised male,
Still living off parents at 32. Fail!

Hiding behind a shield of Fears,
It’s served me well for 20-odd years.
What’s a Funkyman to do?
“This world was not meant for one such as you…”

Do I want a job?
Do I want love?
Do I want to bond to the heavens above?

Terribly sorry, I only know me.
But part of my pain is in Kyriarchy.
Disdain for the world, sown from school.
5 years of hell, because I couldn’t play it cool.

And then there was IT.
the Terrible tale of a singular shit,
Whose life I would gladly end.
Or the nerve of the Scar-maker that though to call me “Friend”.

Grudges and bitterness colour my view,
If you have problems, then I feel for you.
Though my prosaic inelegance doth show,
If e’er you met me, a Gentleman you would know.

So what *about* me?
What quality to see?
I’ll do what I must,
And protest I’m not controlled by lust.

Since I’m called away to lunch,
I’ll eschew the traditional punch,
and End by simply stating,
Much as I can…
“I AM A MAN!!!”

Crossposted from my comment at NSWATM, a fine masculism Blog.

Sunday, 12 February 2012

Po-faced lefties

I have an elder brother (by 3 years, ask no further), and on saturdays, we go to the local mall's food court and have lunch. Oftentimes I try to explain to him my view of a better world, and occasionally on one point or another, I get through.

More often than not though, the fact that there's a word for a specific behaviour or idea is met with the criticism of it having been created by "Po-faced pseudo-intellectuals". This infuriates me.

What madness is it to brand every new Idea an invention of "Po-faced Pseudo-intellectualism?" This is why I hate the anti-intellectualism of these times. I'm not looking down my nose at anyone in particular (well, maybe a few hate-filled Daily Mail columnists, but that's allowed) just because I have a word for the feeling you get when someone makes a homophobic/femmephobic joke in your presence. (mostly I just call it awkwardness and move on)

I entirely despise the role of Hypermasculinity in the modern world. Yes, HYPERmasculinity. Ordinary masculinity, be strong, don't go to pieces over the slightest thing, shed a few tears for the fallen, generally go around and be approachable, exchange a few words about the local sports team (usually Football for me), that's fine. I suppose it's a kind of central European masculinity.

Now, HYPERmasculinity, be THE STRONGEST, don't go to pieces over ANYTHING, shed NO tears for the fallen, generally go around AND DESTROY ALL WHO DISRESPECT YOU, DEFINE YOUR EXISTENCE about the local sports team, that I can't be doing with. It's a very American form of Masculinity, though I suppose the next few generations will oppose it.

I want to know, what's wrong with being weak? The strong will crush you? In the days when the whole world is watching, any move they make will be seen by millions, maybe billions across the globe. And if it is just one man, who would damn the consequences and plough through, he will meet the resistance of a thousand or more, and then all his rage and power will be for naught, as he is contained and left to stew. And nobody is strong enough to stand against what's right.

But this isn't about that.

This is about how Leftyism isn't "Po-faced". I don't think for a microsecond that this planet is doomed. I want everyone to be happy (well maybe not everyone, see my "Hey You" post), to live in a world without discrimination, even against the majority. I want a world of quiet clean cars (maybe even ones that fly, but that's another post), of quiet clean trains, of quiet clean everything.

I believe we can get there.

So why do you think I'm po-faced? Because maybe you're not as funny as you think you are. It's like, once you start noticing discrimination and bias against things, you can't unsee it. It's everywhere. In every facet of our daily lives. I don't laugh at your joke about the blind lesbian in the fish market, because it's ableist and homophobic. Don't think for a second that I have no sense of humour. I know funny. And it doesn't rely on your outdated stereotypes.

I can laugh, I can smile, I'm not entirely serious. I love fantasy and explosions as much as anyone, more than most in my own case! Just don't take me for a "pseudo-intellectual" because I can shorten a rambling description down into a single word. Conservation of Ninjitsu, folks. I haz it.