“Strap him down and light ‘er up.” The statement came out like a weathered grunt. The moment unfolding now was a scenario Sergeant Bill Brixby had experienced numerous times before and although horrific to most, as far as he was concerned this was just another day at the office.
Blatant product placement, Starry eyed ( and horribly acted ) post-Nuclear families migrating towards Sunny Southern California, Illegal Aliens ( In latex suits which would make the cast from the original Godzilla cringe ) taken with the promise of a better life once injected into the American machine and a plot so close to 1982′s E.T. you’d swear it was outright plagiarism save for an impromptu fifteen minute dance off ( Complete with an adult football team in uniform and rehearsed choreography ) in the local McDonald’s that’s so random and bizarre even David Lynch didn’t get it.
The previous paragraph only begins to describe 1988′s ‘Mac and Me’, an utter commercial and critical failure which taught us handicapped children could essentially fly hundreds of feet through the air all the while remaining strapped effortlessly to their wheelchairs; the parents simply letting out a tired sigh of exhaustion upon concluding the death defying act was only a desperate plea for attention.
The film was a cringe inducing wreck and Sergeant Brixby knew it. So why did he continue to put it in, day after day raping his helpless DVD player with the movie’s obnoxious filth? It wasn’t for pleasure, in fact, far from it.
For years he had refined the art of modern day torture. How do you break a man’s psyche without offending the masses and changing public opinion of the military? Metallica, Megadeth, Black Sabbath. They worked, but not to the extent he had hoped. Add in the preconceived notion of Heavy Metal as devil’s music and Brixby found himself in the same tired predicament. Was friendly torture possible?
Enter Mac and Me.
Unknowingly the filmmakers had created the perfect mix the Sergeant had been searching for so long. It flew under anti-torture advocates because it was a family movie, it was also a statement upon the sacrifices an immigrant must make when becoming an American citizen and most importantly…it was the shittiest movie ever made. A cinematic turd so offensive it had broken even the most iron willed opposition to U.S. freedom; including the man strapped to the chair now.
“How’s he doing?” Brixby snarled, nursing the tobacco juices from his cigar and glancing up to the ‘Mac and Me’ chamber monitor.
“The McDonald’s dance scene is about to begin, sir.”
The hard clenching of his jaw threatened to pierce the finely wrapped Cohiba in two. “Jesus” the Sergeant muttered to himself. No matter how many times he had heard those words they still managed to send a cold shudder up his spine.
The private entered the room and Sergeant Brixby stood to his feet, wiping the sweat from his forehead in an effort to keep an element of composure.
“Well?” He stood with baited breath. No one to this point had made it past the dance scene and Brixby was eager to hear the results.
“He made it, barely. Passed out a few times when he saw the Teddy Bear – no doubt due to his flashbacks from the Teddy Ruxpin commercialwe showed him previously – but he made it through.”
The Sergeant sat his hands upon his hips and hung his head low in a temporary moment of defeat. “Where is he now?”
“Approaching the final scene, sir.”
A gleam of energy bolted throughout his eyes and his jaws came roaring back to life, chomping hastily at his flavorful cigar. “Let’s find out what this son of a bitch is made of.”
In a rare show of questioning one’s superiors, the private hesitated to display the same enthusiasm. “Sir…are you sure? He may not make it out alive.”
“Let it roll to the final frame, private.”
WHITE HOUSE PRESS RELEASE - MAY 3rd, 2010
Closure Of ‘Mac and Me’
Detention Facilities
EXECUTIVE ORDER — REVIEW AND DISPOSITION OF INDIVIDUALS DETAINED AT THE ‘MAC AND ME’ NAVAL BASE AND CLOSURE OF DETENTION FACILITIES
By the authority vested in me as President by the Constitution and the laws of the United States of America, in order to effect the appropriate disposition of individuals currently detained by the Department of Defense at the Mac And Me Naval Base (Codename: Big Mac) and promptly to close detention facilities at Mac And Me consistent with the national security and foreign policy interests of the United States and the interests of justice, I hereby order as follows:
Sec. 2. Findings.
(a) Over the past 7 years, approximately 800 individuals whom the Department of Defense has ever determined to be, or treated as, enemy combatants have been detained at Big Mac. The Federal Government has moved more than 500 such detainees from Big Mac, either by returning them to their home country or by releasing or transferring them to a third country. The Department of Defense has determined that a number of the individuals currently detained at Big Mac, due to the cruel and unusual treatment they were exposed to inside Big Mac, are eligible for such transfer or release.
I’ve always wondered what the movie Predator would have been like if, alongside Arnold Schwarzenneger, it had co-starred some of the top names of the time. Guys who made their careers in action movie staples in the 1980′s with movies like Die Hard, Rambo and The Road Warrior.
After imagining that revision for quite some time I finally decided to edit together a small sample of what it might look like with Sylvester Stallone, Bruce Willis and Mel Gibson fought alongside Arnold and the rest of his team as they team up to try and stop one of the most frightening monsters in modern cinema!
The job climate has changed rapidly in the past few years and likewise, so has the means of finding such employment. Gone are the days of walking in, handing your resume and letting your future boss take a small glimpse at your personality as an aid in their search to find the perfect candidate for the position in question. Today, that method is an ancient memory. In this day and age of short attention spans, giant corporations and the incoming flux of recently unemployed who seek new means of income through different careers we have been reduced to the online job application in an effort to speed up the process. Gentlemen, let the bitching begin.
After Miles Dyson became a suicidal martyr which set back his breakthrough computer research by dozens of years in an effort to stop the impeding doomsday prophesied by a young waitress, technology continued at its normal, steady pace. ( Long exhale and a quick wipe of the brow. That was close! ) Not so fast. Unsatisfied and in an effort to bring Cyberdyne systems back to the forefront of applied science we as a society have done away with the traditional Gort’s, C3P0′s and Johnny 5′s of the job application processes to make way for a new, scarier model. If the online job application were walking down the street naked in the middle of the night and you found yourself in the unfortunate role of Bill Paxton; promptly begin pissing your pants and revealing the tiny, pathetic size of your dick now. It wouldn’t be long until he was digging his meat club sized hands like a spoon into a juicy piece of cantaloupe in an effort to pull out your still beating heart. “Fuck you. Asshole. ”
At the core of the online job assessment are the hundreds of questions thrown your way in order to get a good idea of who you are to the company you look to for employment. They range from a wide variety of topics such as ‘Will you steal?’ to ‘Will you let other c0-workers steal?’ and so forth.
If anything they are a good glimpse into how modern American businesses view the bulk of their prospective company representatives. When beginning the test two polarizing figures begin to take shape rather quickly. The Model Employee and the sexually confused, goth-rock loving homicidal maniac with his cock n’ balls tucked between his legs.Sadly, and much to Buffalo Bills dismay, there is no question asking where the lotion goes in order to refrain from getting the hose again. To put it bluntly, if I had the choice of being locked in a room full of people answering the wrong end of these questioners or the cast of George Romero’s Dawn Of The Dead I would happily enter into the zombie’s blue toned undead arms after a long tanning bed session with apple in mouth and food stuffing in ass.
Wait, they can’t be that bad, can they? Let’s take small look at a few of the questions in…er, question, shall we?
People cannot be trusted, because eventually they let you down. Ah yes, the Ed Gein defense. They may not be able to be trusted, but they make great lampshades and designer snuggies!
Your moods shift dramatically from one direction to the next.This is actually true. I’m a happy, motivated individual when I begin and by the end due to the bizarre nature of the questions I wonder if I’m applying for a job or as a guest on the set of ‘One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest.’
Sometimes I get really mad, and I don’t know why.They left out the part where it said ‘And then after blacking out I wake up naked covered in my fellow employees entrails with a prostate that feels like it got in a fistfight.
You look back and feel bad about things you’ve done.And the people you’ve buried under the basement.
You don’t believe a lot of what people say. Simple things, like ‘Don’t J-Walk, respect the elderly and refrain from pouring acid into the back of incapacitated peoples heads in order to try and start your army of zombie sex slaves.’
You are a very private person.Yes, I love privates! In fact, I have a whole rotting refrigerator full of them.
So what conclusion have we come to thus far? Well, seeing as you’re taking the test in solitude with no supervision to determine even the slightest amount of truth it’s easy to say whether you’re Jeffrey Dahmer looking for his next meal or an honest job searching citizen you’re going to get the position. Unless of course you’re an honest job searching citizen. Did your modesty prevent you from answering ‘excellent’ on all questions regarding your mental, physical and communication attributes? Sorry, this job only recruits the best of the best, the most ‘excellent’ of all candidates. Welcome aboard, John Wayne Gacy.
So you’ve submitted your first application and have been passed over by a homicidal clown. You’re down but not out. ” I’ll show them dammit, even if I have to play by their rules. ” Bingo. Stage one is complete and soon you’ll be marching alongside Donald Sutherland; index finger pointed in air and mouth agape, signaling in a wretched scream the location of all who haven’t yet been body snatched.
So now they’ve begun to take hold, their cold wart ridden fingers gripping your soft, living flesh and stuffing you head first into their witches pot; melting down your body into goo and pouring it into their mold of mediocrity. It’s bad enough marching in single file towards the personality glue factory, a cruel fate comprised of taking any glimmer of individuality and stripping it down, humiliating it through spraying it with a hose and laughing at its cold, naked body.Are you ready for the next step? Wait, they’re not finished. As a final act of beating your fading attempt at uniqueness six feet under throw in pointing and smirking towards its shriveled, frightened member for good measure before finally tossing it into the Jack LaLanne industrial grade personality juicer. Moments later it will be drank up by an employer with the emotional range of Christopher Lambert and the same singular philosophy. In the age of mindless, soulless armies of prospective work force employee’s when it comes to charisma there can truly be “only one.”
So what is the one personality to rule them all? Let’s put this in perspective. If this graduate of the personality glue factory was given the task of directing 2008′s ‘The Day The Earth Stood Still’ he would’ve asked Keanu Reeve’s to tone down the emotions a notch. Can you hear that? It’s the sound of a heart rate monitor flat lining. Don’t fret, it happened twice on the set of The Matrix. In fact, he was declared legally dead for half of ‘Something’s Gotta Give’ and here he is, alive and well; an example all alumnus of the soul stripping machine aspire to one day emulate. When Don Johnson sang of looking for a heartbeat in his hit 1986 tune, unbeknown to most it was regarding a future GNC employee trained at the university of Johnny Utah. Sadly, he hasn’t stopped singing.
Surprisingly you’re not deterred. You did it once before and you’ll do it again. What’s a couple 150 question online psychological profiles, anyway? A great opportunity for your long dormant hemorrhoids to be re-introduced to Preparation-H, that’s what. On average most job sites let you know that the ‘profile evaluation’ segment will take between 60-90 minutes, depending on the user. Six job applications later and even with half a bucket of lube shoved up your ass those fuckers are exploding like face huggers from their hatching pods. Somewhere in the depths of syndication hell Paul Reiser is smiling.
A series of long, harrowing journeys through multiple application processes which bring to mind an online Lament Configuration cube and you’re finally finished.You have experienced the pain and now, after Pinhead and his band of Cenobite minions have finished ripping out the frayed ends of your sanity using fish-hooks disguised as a half dozen endless personalty questioners which, in an act of self sacrifice that would make Jim Caviezel envious, you’ve accomplished the impossible. You’re done. You’ve gone through the telepod and made it out to the other side; experiencing only mild Brundlefly side effects.
Now it’s time to put on the Ray Bans, lean back in your pleather executive chair with your feet stretched out and crossed onto the desk all the while blaring Timbuk 3 through your tinny, bass-phobic computer speakers. The sweet smell of success is so strong it cuts through your vapid anal cream odor. The space between both ears may have been reduced to a pink and grey paste, you may on rare occasions answer to the name Theodore Logan and your ass probably looks like the aftermath of Colonel Kurtz’s destroyed compoundbut these are just small casualties in an otherwise bigger war. Not much longer now and you’ll be rising up the ranks, all the way to the top. All you gotta do now is wait. And wait. And wait. The legs are off the desk, the shades are now gone. Timbuk 3 has long since been replaced by Eric Carmen’s trademark tune of self pity and the putrid stench of anal cream once again fills the air. You’ve waited days, checking the e-mail at least three dozen times every instance you sat down to the computer. You’ve even e-mailed yourself just to make sure your inbox is receiving incoming mail correctly. Nothing. All the while you grind your bitter teeth knowing somewhere out there Ted Bundy just received the keys to the employee van you were hoping to get and is heading out for the beach, arm in cast.
All that long, tiring work and no reward. It’s the real life equivalent to the early MAC game ‘The Oregon Trail.’ Your six kids are dead from cholera, the wive who you’ve aptly named after one of many Victoria’s Secret models drowned while crossing a four foot riverand in the final stretch of 16 color landscape your final Oxen smashes into the ground dead with victory in site. “Thought you could take ‘The Trail’ on hard, didn’t you? Fuck you and your foolhardy, childish ambitions. ”
You may have been down, but not out. There was always the next day, during library break, to jump back on the wagon, create six new kids and rename your hot pixelated wive one of the multiple lingerie models who hadn’t yet drowned while crossing the Columbia river. My kids could starve, my 8-bit trophy wife could succumb to cholera and my supplies could be ravaged by Indians but god dammit, I’ll finish that game. Twenty seven trieslater and fresh out of Victoria’s Secret models to kill the ancient Apple Mac II had destroyed my will to continue through brute force. Maybe like playing the game, it was time to lower my expectations regarding my work possibilities. If the online job search hadn’t worked, maybe donating my organs to the black market would.
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