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The Hud

What day is it? The Date!: February 7th

THE YEAR?!:2010

In A&E’s devotion to providing it’s loyal fanbase with an ever growing selection of cutting edge material they’ve gone far and wide to invistigate the depths of society in order to obtain new and striking material to fill their selection of hard hitting and fact based shows. When first stumbling on the subject at hand it was originally placed in the stations flagship star ‘Dog The Bounty Hunters’ hand, a job which required his immediate travel to Las Vegas in order locate the perpetrator in question. A&E, upon receiving a series of entrail filled buckets marked ‘Dog’ were than forced to send another respected journalist investigator on the case.

Enter Bill Curtis.

Not willing to end up reduced to a crimson colored pile of pig food like his unfortunate channel sharing, mullet haired compatriot before him, Bill went about this dangerous case with a more cerebral approach, doing the one thing he knew best, handing the case off to his team of writers to investigate so he may later put his name on whatever they may come up with and claim it as his own.

The subject in question? Wanderlei Silva.

The team was puzzled. How did we not hear of this 5’11″ compacted bundle of unbridled monstrosity sooner? Simple. Much like Jude Law before him, this Axe Murdering monster was a United States Import who had already left a long line of unfortunate victims behind him before being unleashed on an unsuspecting American audience, replacing Law’s smarmy arrogance with pure undiluted violence.

The tireless research team worked vigorously, inching closer in an attempt to discover the origins of this monster who walked among us. Tipped off by an anonymous lead, the team traced his humble beginnings back to Caritiba, Brazil. Like a group of curious aliens observing Danny DeVito and Rhea Perlman attempting to have sex, what they found shocked them.

Seemingly this Wanderlei Silva was the result of famed scientist Seth Brundle sending an unfortunate Brazilian and his ferocious junkyard pit-bull through his gene splicing telepod in an act of ultimate animal cruelty. In a related case which sprung up shortly thereafter which had the team researching for possible similarities, Football player Michael Vick had reportedly greased his ass with bitches-in-heat-spray, letting a small herd of American Terriers take turns sending their red rocket’s airborne into the black ass end of space. Later, when being questioned by Bill Curtis’ investigative crew if he had attempted his own version of Human-Dog splicing as Brundle had accomplished before he replied with a simple “Human-Dog splicing what?” It turns out he was not so much a scientific gene-splicer as he was a man following PETA’s advise in an ultimate attempt at redemption.

Shortly after Wanderlei’s birth by telepod Jeff Goldblum sought his own redemption. In an act devised to never allow such a monstrosity as the one he had created into this world again, Jeff went insane, destroying his life’s work and vowing never to let the public by subjected to either another Wanderlei or Jurassic Park II: The Lost World. Saved for a short lived T.V. show, Jeff faded into obscurity, forever haunted by unleashing ‘The Axe Murderer‘ onto the world. Sadly, we may never be blessed by a follow-up to his star making turn as ‘Mac’ in ‘Earth Girls Are Easy.’

Goldblum’s monster evolved into something far worse then he could have ever imagined. An untamed fighting machine who was quickly imported and unleashed on the unsuspecting Japanese public by way of their popular combat sports organization ‘Pride Fighting Championship,’ Wanderlei’s reign of carnage in the land of the rising sun would soon become a thing of lore. The Japanese had for years searched for a successor to their famed nuclear reptile, a monstrous lizard who leveled cities with little moral regard. In Wanderlei Silva they found the same uncontrolled rage shrunk down onto a five foot, eleven inch frame but no less destructive. There was little time wasted before they began pitting The Axe Murderer up against all comers, the result were a beast so scary that if not for his opponents to fight in the ring one would assume he would begin attacking himself, the outcome which would most likely look similar to Brundle’s unfortunate experiment involving his insides-on-the-outsides orangutan friend.

Of the many violent weapons at his disposal, surprisingly the most intimidating was his strategy before the fight had even yet to begin. Like a Great White shark moments before the attack, Wanderlei’s stare down has become a thing of legend, like the X-Men’s Cyclops before him, Wanderlei was soon required by law to wear doctor prescribed shades in all places public for fear of mass panic.

Prior to his October 2000 match up with Gilbert Yvel, while walking down the streets of Tokyo the Axe Murderers glare alone netted him the misfortune of being charged thirteen times in the Japanese legal court systems for ‘attempted vision rape,’ an isolated incident no mortal man has thus far been able to replicate. A devout fan of The Axe Murderer, actor David Spade has repeatedly attempted to emulate that fateful vision-raping occasion but to no avail, although on many occasions getting pretty damn close. It is unclear at this moment whether or not Wanderlei’s five year old son ‘Thor,’ who most have fittingly nicknamed ‘The Lil’ Hatchet Murderer’ has acquired these abilities although time will tell.

In Wandy’s (A nicknamed most have given him in an effort to soften his image. The result is akin to putting an adorable PetsMart doggy sweater on Stephen King’s title character from the book Cujo.) repertoire were a collection of weapons he stored (which when not in use was often raided from his cutlery drawer by Michael Meyers and Jason Vorhees ) including:

• Gorilla Hooks. His bread and butter method of attack. Eyes closed, head down and arms swinging he came at you like an enraged overweight child who had just received word he’d be shipped to fat camp. This blitzkrieg was the set-up shot, which opened up three distant possibilities.
  
• Knees. As a child locked in the basement, Wanderlei would look on through the dusty window below and watch outside as Goldblum’s landscaper Jeff Fahey (When not working for the next door neighbor Pierce Brosnon on his cutting edge Virtual Reality devices) would accomplish an array of tasks. One fateful morning Silva peered on as Fahey used a jackhammer to renovate some loose asphalt. The image of a horribly hair-dyed landscaper in overalls using this weapon of destruction was ingrained forever in the young Murderer’s mind and he has since tried his best to accurately replicate the tool on his victims faces. Most famous of these victims were Quinton ‘Rampage’ Jackson, who has went on record numerous times telling of his hatred for 1992′s The Lawnmower Man and the ensuing effects it had on Wanderlei.
• Soccer Kicks. A finishing move set up by Gorilla Hooks in which The Axe Murderer punts the heads of his victims as souvenirs for guests in attendance.This is likely where he got his reputation of being ‘fan friendly.’
  
• Foot Stomps. The Axe Murderer’s Fatality move, in which the feared Brazilian attempts to make fine wine out of his victims face.

The steadfast research team, fueled by Mountain Dew and a commitment to watch ‘Sneakers’ at least once daily to keep spirits lifted moved on, turned their journalist page’s next to Chapter II: Wanderlei’s Violence.

In order to fully comprehend their adversary at hand Bill Curtis’ crackpot team of sleuths next step was watching The Axe Murderer in action. Unlike Dahmer, Gacey and Bundy before him, Wandy’s crime’s had each been painstakingly shot and edited with descriptive color commentary to boot. The men of American Justice put in a tape which lasted less than one minute, a short span of time which they would remember forever and shake them all to their core.

The tape in question was the 2008 match-up between Wanderlei Silva and Keith Jardine which occurred in The Axe Murderer’s adopted city of Las Vegas, Nevada and took place within the Mixed Martial Arts organization the Ultimate Fighting Championship. By now the team was well aware of the criminal, but what of his bald headed, goateed victim? It turns out Keith Jardine, whom one of the researchers found was at one time tapped to play the rocky road loving antagonist ‘Sloth’ in the never materialized prequel to 1986′s Goonies, was no boyscout himself. ‘The Dean Of Mean,’ a nickname someone had given him in an obvious attempt to prolong his virginity for at least ten more years, was a brawler much like Wanderlei who had similarly been brought through a faulty gene-splicing telepod. This brought forth the terrifying moment of realization that had the researchers concluding Jeff Goldblum was likely alive and well, isolating himself in The Lost World and christening himself the successor to Brando’s bloated, Twinkie wrapper filled throne.

The team now knew Wanderlei was going in against a skull crusher much like himself, and in a thought which brought about memories of the 60′s classic ‘Destroy All Monsters,’ the group of researchers mind’s raced at the thought of two, gigantic rubber faced beasts colliding with one another. The tape was put in, and the play button was pushed.

In an eerie scene which many the producers of the HBO series ‘Oz’ have threatened to sue over copyright infringement, it took exactly thirty six seconds for Wandy to take the small remaining fragment of manhood from Jardine ( Much of it had jumped ship immediately prior to naming himself ‘The Dean of Mean’ ) cut it off, drive a considerable distance away and throw the tiny, limp portion of it into a nearby field. It was an act of soul stealing carnage which brought on a wave of post traumatic stress for an attending John Bobbit who was seated live in the audience. Looking with an observent eye when viewing the quick lived brawl you can actually see Jardine unwittingly reenact the Israelite robe wearing Belloq as he pears into the Wanderlei Ark one moment before having his face exploded like a Gallager Watermelon.

Reportedly sitting at home watching the fight himself, Harrison Ford screamed to his girlfriend and former Ally McBeal star to cover her eyes in the small chance Wandy’s uncontrollable power shot out like the hammer of god, punishing all those who dared question his power. A lengthy finger pointing session ensued later that week as the former ‘Star Wars’ star warned UFC president Dana White of the villainy Wanderlei possessed.

“Axe Murdering Brazilians. I hate these guys.”

Jodie Foster has since demanded that any aspiring actress looking to take on the titular character in the remake of her Oscar winning 1988 performance in The Accused take a look at Keith’s role in the match up between himself and The Axe Murderer. Much like her role as Sarah Tobias in the aforementioned film, Jardine looked to want it, and he sure as hell ended up getting it. The ‘Dean Of Mean’ has since admitted that his scraggly, goateed asshole clenches up involuntarily whenever his UFC 84 rapist opponents name is brought up in conversation.

Upon studying this disturbing reel of destructive, Axe Murdering violence the team of researchers had hit an investigative brick wall. What could they possibly due to stop this destructive force of nature, a man who took his childhood idol the Tasmanian Devil and role-played him to life with a passionate ferocity making Furries the world round envious of his commitment and dedication to the craft.

Before long a crack in the case had been found. Looking into Wanderlei’s upcoming fight schedule the team was quick to learn of a match up between himself and the cocky fighter ‘Michael Bisping,’ another import with an attitude similar to his arrogant British cohort Jude Law. ” It’s perfect! ” The team was quick to exclaim in unison. Researching Bisping further the team learned he proclaimed himself a ‘knockout’ artist, someone who was not afraid to stand and bang with the feared Brazilian lab experiment. Could this be Godzilla’s Mothra, an otherwise unassuming beast with the power to slay Brundle’s greatest creation?

With beaming smiles they patted each other on the back and the words ‘Job well done’ were thrown about by various members to one another; the long journey was finally over. The team of researchers hastily made their way back to Bill. The team entered Mr. Curtis’ office and fought back their giddy, school boy enthusiasm. ” Well, gentlemen? ” Bill Curtis proclaimed as he rose from his desk, eying the men stoically. ” Mr. Curtis, another American Justice file closed. Wanderlei will soon be slain and the American ally who accomplished the task will soon after find himself flying to England, greeted like a King. ” The statement was met was silence. Bill nodded his head and furrowed his brow, putting a quick eye on all his researchers involved. ” England? You’re speaking of Michael Bisping, correct? ” Looking to each other and smiling the men quickly resumed position, directing their attention back on the American Justice host. ” Yes Mr. Curtis. We believe Michael Bisping will be able to stop what Jeff Goldblum and his cursed telepod started. ” The acclaimed investigative entertainer braced his hands on the arms of his chair and sat himself back down. ” Gentlemen, I’m blown away. I can with all honesty say that I am truly blown away. ” The men tried in vain to hide their grins which threatened to outstretch the faces which housed them. Before they had a reply, Bill was quick to follow up. ” I think A&E would agree with me that American Justice can no longer contain a group of individuals such as yourselves. In fact, I am making a phone call to the executives of this station post haste. Starting tomorrow I, and I’m sure my superiors will be quick to agree, want you to show up in production house three. Congratulations, gentlemen. ”

The men left Mr. Curtis’ office and their emotions soared. No longer nestled under the wing of the American Justice stalwart, it was time for this crew to spread their wings and fly. They eagerly anticipated the upcoming work week. Small Town Justice Files? The Jeff Goldblum Diaries? So many options, what direction could Mr. Curtis have recommended their flagship show follow?

Bright and early the crackpot team show up to set and were met by the veteran actor and star of their new show.

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The Hud

What day is it? The Date!: January 23rd

THE YEAR?!:2010

When it comes to handling the role of a film director, German born Roland Emmerich is as mainstream and successful as one can get. His movies break countless records worldwide and his resume includes the summer tent pole blockbusters Independence Day, The Day After Tomorrow and 2012.  When attempting to tackle a new creative project, most directors draw from their past. Oliver Stone, director of the classic films Platoon, Born on The Fourth Of July and Salvador, used his harrowing journey through the depths of the Vietnam jungle in which to cultivate inspiration. Steven Spielberg, possibly one of the most respected and commercial figures of the modern film industry, used the divorce of his parents at an early age in which he channeled those feelings of loneliness and confusion into plots involving sons and the absent fathers they sought connection with.

What of Roland Emmerich, though? Little is known about the European director’s direct influences but with a little journalist ingenuity and a lot of fictional fabrications I have uncovered the direct source of cinematic ideas the filmmaker taps into. Its an invaluable object he obtained as an impressionable child which he continues to hold close to his heart. This wellspring of ideas provides an unlimited resource of inspiration on demand for the foreign director.

Frankfurt Germany, 1944. The war for Nazi dominance in Europe rages on. Although whispers abound through various channels regarding the National Socialist’s foundation crumbling beneath them, happily married Dieter and Helga Emmerich pay no mind. They are proud German people with a strong sense of moral balance.  Eat your morning strudels, wear your lederhosen and blindly follow your government’s directions and you will lead a long and fulfilling life, they would often say. Through it all nothing made the couple more proud than their five year old son, little Roland, or Reinlobbinmeinenhiknerstein as his fellow boyhood friends had lovingly nicknamed him. Much like the droves of mentally disabled citizens the S.S. officers frequently brought into the town factory (The black heavy smoke billowing through the chimney tops are the tires we burn to keep our disable friends warm!) soon young Roland would be making a journey of his own.

Roland would be six soon in the upcoming summer months and the Emmerich family were eager to send the shy and obedient little boy off on the journey to make him a man. The parents were ecstatic to finally gas tiny Roland with a Zyklon B. amount of national pride into his lungs they themselves had already been subjected to. His destination? The Hitler Youth Camp.

Unbeknown to the simple living Dieter and Helga, the smallest Emmerich had his own thoughts on the matter. He was a dreamer, a pacifist. The idea of climbing into the mold and having it slam down upon you, stamping their mark and turning you into a predetermined design didn’t interest the young boy. He was a square being pushed into a circular hole, and he struggled with himself to tell his absent minded parents the true feelings he harbored deep down inside.

Roland hadn’t realized what his goal was in life but the small creative sparks made themselves known from time to time. When his father once arrived home after a long day at the factory burning rubber tires Roland was overjoyed when he realized Dieter had brought him a present; two toy cars.  Although the faint stench of human hair exuded from his new playthings the joyous Emmerich paid no mind, immediately running outside in his tiny pair of lederhosen to put his new gifts to good use. For hours the little boy entertained himself with the metal vehicles, slamming the two together over and over against each other until they barely resembled their original form. Eventually growing tired of this scenario, five year old Roland next began taking turns slamming each one onto the ground time and time again squealing with delight. He had found his gift that fateful afternoon. Roland Emmerich was a storyteller.

His mind was set, “No Hitler Youth and no military future.” Day by day it became harder for Roland to hold back his true emotions, knowing the journey to camp was soon nearing. He hadn’t a clue what to do, his parents let off a glow which grew ever brighter as the summer months grew near and he had seemed to shrivel away, dying a little inside through each passing moment. Surely there had to be some way to break the news to his parents and tell them of his true ambitions.

Eating his breakfast strudel one bright spring day the waves of change crept back onto shore and again tickled little Roland’s toes. With the family gathered round the kitchen filling their bellies and basking in the delightful Saturday morning sun there was suddenly a knock at the door. “Oont who could zat be?” Dieter proclaimed in his strikingly perfect German dialect. Excusing himself from the table, Roland’s father made his way for the door in an effort to greet their unexpected company.

Little Emmerich continued eating and paid no mind. Within a short period Dieter was once again in the kitchen looking to seat himself and Helga was quick to inquire to her husband who had been at the door and why hadn’t he let them in to help themselves to the warm and delicious cinnamon strudels. “Can you believe this garbage?” Dieter proclaimed, clutching a book in his hands and shaking it in an aggressive fashion. “These wackos believe the world will soon end and the government will crumble!” Taking a moment to chuckle at his own statement the eldest Emmerich continued. “Don’t those fools realize the Reich will be around for at least a thousand more years! What mindless, brain washing trash they try and peddle.” Dieter turned to his wife, disgusted as if he held one of the diapers Roland filled as a baby. “Helga! Put this drivel in the waste basket where it belongs.” She grabbed the book without haste and threw it into the garbage, treating it as toxic material.

Little Emmerich, always the shy, respectful boy his parents had grown to know and love simply nodded his head as his father continued his rant. “Well, off to burn some tires. Roland, remember to practice today, ok? You do know what I’m talking about, right little man?” Roland looked up to his father who had finished his strudels and now was in the midst of adjusting his collar. “Yes, pappa. Two hundred goosesteps around the house and one hundred heil hitler salutes in front of the mirror.” Dieter stretched out his arm in order to pat his young son on the head. “Good boy.”

With his father off to work and his mother in the middle of laundry Roland’s curiosity began eating at him. Who was at the front door? Why had they angered father and what had they given him? Making a slow approach to the waste basket the littlest Emmerich reached down and clutched his little mitt’s on what Dieter had been in such opposition to.

He quickly ran to his room and closed the door, book in hand. Jumping onto his bed and huddling around his prized possession the youngest Emmerich went in for a closer look, opening the defiled object up and browsing it’s contents. Roland couldn’t believe it.  Flipping through page after page his little mind was in a state of shock. “It’s like they took a blueprint of my career and mapped it out in intricate details for me to use on future projects.” Every page was a building blowing up, a dog falling helplessly into the chasm opened up by an earthquake or innocent children being swept away by a multitude of various biblical judgments. Along with the dozens of pictures littering each page which seemed to scream out ‘Use me as storyboards in your future directorial endeavors!’ were the constant threats warning of judgment day, the apocalypse and the earth’s natural disasters paying back men for their sins. The littlest Emmerich had found his muse, the teachings of the Jehovah’s Witnesses.

Years passed by and the boyish Roland became a man, in the process keeping his prized possession close beside him at all times and using it as a template for his new found profession. Through the help of Armageddon-minded organized religion, Roland was now a filmmaker helping to spread their word.

Independence Day, The Day After Tomorrow, 2012. All ideas directly torn from the cherished book obtained as a child. Many times his actors would seek inspiration on set, and with a simple wink of the eye and a the turn of a page Roland would fill their struggling minds with ingredients from his recipe book.  Often times Emmerich would meet up with fellow directors at parties and award ceremonies, all clamoring for a taste of his beloved formula. “Your plots are almost of a divine origin!” Esteemed colleges like Martin Scorsese would oftentimes say. “What strikingly original idea will you think of next?” Others like acclaimed director Clint Eastwood would inquire. Filled with an inspirational warmth, Emmerich knew his next plot was only a page turn and another proclamation of the world’s end away.

Of all his industry acquaintances had he formed over the years there was only one he trusted to reveal his secret to,  fellow German native and respected filmmaker Uwe Boll. In what shocked the plagiarizing Emmerich, Boll seemed none too surprised by this revelation, admitting he too had taken all his inspiration from a printed work. In Uwe’s case it turned out to be something he also obtained as a young and impressionable forty three year old, the video game magazine Gamepro, issue seventeen.

With the release of the critically and commercially successful 2012 behind him it was now time for Roland to do what had always worked so well for him in the past; open up his beloved book and work on his next movie based upon the newest page. He sat by himself in his writing room, which was a small piece constructed as part of the giant mansion that the tiny, worn book had helped fund and realizing this he cracked a smile. A nice stretch of the arms and a sip of his freshly brewed coffee commenced, Roland was now ready to use the next chapter of his beloved book for the basis of his new movie.

He opened the dusty tome and flipped the page to the final chapter in the book, shocked at what he set eyes upon. Where were the burning building? The tornado’s? The innocent children and puppy dogs being punished for their horrible sins?  Flipping through the next dozen pages it was all the same; gone were the destruction, fire and brimstone and in it’s place were smiling family’s and green meadows filled with carnivores interacting peacefully with their prey. “FUCK!” Roland screamed, throwing his once cherished book upon the ground. “Mich keinen meinen eemster noonen dracht! Das leiben streicht!” (Translated: What is this Disney bullshit?!)

Roland was a visionary, a man known for high concept films involving destruction and chaos. Had he taken it all for granted? Was this some sort of cruel joke, the book laughing in his face? He walked over to his once prized possession, picking it up and peering into it’s final pages once more before throwing it back down in disgust towards the ground again. He had a reputation, a legacy! How could he make a film with kitty cats and puppy dogs that didn’t end up with them dying cruel, unnecessary deaths?

The filmmaker searched for answers. Maybe he could steal Uwe Boll’s issue of Gamepro! No, no that wouldn’t work. Uwe was so fearful people would realize his works were all borrowed from video games that he kept it secured high up his anal cavity in order to keep it hidden. In fact, this was exactly how Roland had originally found out where the fellow German kept his secret when Emmerich kept bumping into it accidentally. He was out of options. What would he do now, what could he do?

Crying in his kitchen and stuffing his face with the strudel’s he had eaten as a child Roland suddenly heard a knock at the door. “Ich fukken habben” (I’m fucked.) Emmerich proclaimed, realizing it was most likely Will Smith interested in another Armageddon themed role he planned on starring in. Dragging his feet halfheartedly and holding his head down in shame Roland made his way to the front door, cringing at the thought of explaining his situation to the fresh prince of bell air.

Opening the door Emmerich was caught off guard, it was not the guest he assumed but rather someone much different.

“Hi, are you afraid of the impending doom awaiting us all? We as Jehovah’s Witnesses believe…” Glancing down Roland set eyes upon a book in the suited man’s hands. It was a book of close similarity to his prized possession yet much larger in size. His pulse raced. “Excuse me, not to be rude but I have a book like that only much smaller.” The well kept gentleman smiled “Oh, you must have an older edition of the same book. This new printing adds a dozen or so more chapters in…” Emmerich couldn’t contain his glee.  “In the destruction parts? Are there new pictures, new scenarios involving old ladies and men who do other men dying?” The suited man’s voice filled with sorrow. “Sadly, yes, in an act to show how this world will end we have added many new chapters with pictures involving the end of mankind. But only for the purpose of showing why you must…” The director reached for his wallet and grabbed a large wad of bills, shoving them into the man’s breast pocket and grabbing the book from his hands. “Here, here, take it! Take it all!” Roland, possessing the new instrument of script design in hands raced back to his front door. “Would you be interested in a return…” Slamming the door, Emmerich clutched the tome, face shimmering with glee.

He was overjoyed, not only did he have a fresh set of material to work into his next half dozen or so movies he hadn’t revealed the source of his inspiration to Will Smith or any others besides his closeted fellow German colleague Uwe Boll. His reputation as a respected filmmaker hadn’t been tarnished and he had a fresh new supply of material. Emmerich’s secret was safe.