Silver Bells and Cockleshells

The first of many trailers for Alice In Wonderland appeared all of the Internet lately, and I must say, I'm not pleased. Though I do try and refrain from any judgmental remarks on movies before I see them - and that comment is entirely untrue - I'm not sure how I feel about the Cheshire Cat being entirely animated or the fact that Anne Hathaway is playing the White Queen. I'm afraid Tim Burton is outlasting his use, and I'd love to see another director give him a good run for his money. Or however that phrase goes. Coraline was not altogether too disappointing, but was all too similar to his previous works. I understand it's his style, but something needs to change - I'm getting tired of seeing swaggering Captain Jack and a cleavage-bursting Carter dance around on screen bathed in black, red and white. I'm also jealous of them.

...shut up, Anne Hathaway.

A man is riding on his horse one late afternoon, when he comes across a wide and murky swamp. Not wishing to spend the night in the dense forest, the man longed to cross the swamp before night fell. Knowing there were no bridges for miles and miles on either side of him, however, he realized the hopelessness of his situation and was about to dismount his fare when he noticed a small boy sitting at the swamp's edge. He called out to the young lad, who calmly turned to the man. "I wonder if you could tell me, young man, does the swamp have a solid bottom?" The boy nodded and replied, "Why, of course, sir, it most certainly does." The man asked, "Are you absolutely quite certain that it does, little boy?" The boy simply nodded again and turned back to gaze at the water. With his horse, the man - now confident in his quest - began to cross the swamp, only to sink deeper and deeper until he found himself up to his neck in thick mud. The man cried out in a panic to the little boy, "I thought you said it had a solid bottom!" The boy shrugged and replied, "It does, sir, you just haven't reached it yet."

A Different Shade of Oak

Four years ago, I was obsessed with the idea of death, so much so that it began to creep into everyday life and often sent me into a panic, knowing that I could die at any time and in any number of ways. I would even feel somewhat "disconnected" or removed from my body, as if my mind had wandered off somewhere, leaving me to stare off into space in a long stupor.

Back then, I believed this was merely a phase and with time, I would come to accept an inevitable death. Yet here I am again, in the same place I was in my high school years - terrified of the Reaper. One minute, I'm watching a movie with friends or having a few drinks at a crowded bar, and the next, paralyzed with the thought of life's biggest mystery.

When I was that tender age of 18, I recall my attempts to create a blog such as this one, where I would delve into morbid subjects in order to confront my fears. Needless to say, it didn't work out as well as I would have liked, but it did bring up some interesting finds. Today, I revisit those morbid memories - crazy coffins.

During the mindless hours I spent surfing the internet in the Golden Age I knew as my teenage years, I came across a bizarre website showcasing the most interesting coffin designs from around the world. I vaguely recall one particular coffin that was lined with cushions and included a stereo system complete with headphones and extra batteries. Though I wasn't able to find it again, I did find some other crazy designs for the deceased.

Though I'll never fully understand some people's wish to be interred in a large wooden egg or a massive felt blue luggage case, there are other designs that encapsulate the departed's true passions when they were alive. The skateboard coffin and guitar coffin are testaments to this idea - each coffin was tailored to reflect the young boys' passions in their short lifetimes.

Sure, they'll be six feet under with no one to appreciate their clever designs but the maggots and earthworms, but it's a nice commemoration to those who have passed away. I can only imagine what Michael Jackson's body will be placed in - if, in fact, he'll be lowered into the ground for certain.

Yet what about those who don't want to go out with any fanfare or be placed in a glorified mummy box? With home funerals on the rise, that's not a problem. A number of states are now allowing the practice of home burials, giving the chance for loved ones to be solely responsible for the deceased and most of the funerary arrangements. In a select few states, the law requires that the body be handled by a professional at one point, as well as requiring the family to obtain burial permits and official death certificates. Oregon, the bastard state of the Northwest, has outlawed the practice of home funerals entirely. And with an average cost of $6,000 for a funeral service in the United States, they're certainly reaping the rewards by taking the dead into their own hands.

Too Soon?

Now that I've got your attention, I must say that I cannot wait for this film to come out. Unfortunately, some boob - I blame not me - misinformed me on the release date, which is actually next summer. Mustard! I was so excited to see it this July that I went ahead and cleared out the whole month to see the film all 31 days. At least that's how many days some other boob told me are in the month of July. For now, however, I'll content myself with the new Harry Poophead movie, where acting knows no bounds and characters abound knowing no acting.

"Do yoooou plaaay -" *head bursts in fiery explosion*

"I knew I was an unwanted baby when I saw that my bath toys were a toaster and a radio."

-Joan Rivers

Words of wisdom, Joan.

Where In The World Is Death?

I wonder how long it took this little nerd to make. In any case, he's pretty awesome.



Watching Bang-Yao Liu's neat little composition of a trillion wasted post-it notes, I realized how little I know about the Japanese culture and also how bad I am at distinguishing them from the Chinese. I then found out why I know so little when I came across this disturbing photograph. I'm assuming these things were created when Jack Nicholson mated with a pterodactyl in that dream I had last week. I haven't slept a wink since.

Looks like I'm doing another load of laundry tonight.

Now what these hovering horrors really are are supernatural beings which serve as personifications of death in the Japanese culture. Well, mainly in manga and anime, that is. These death gods often surface in modern works of Japanese fiction and are the equivalent of our Grim Reaper. I'm not sure which is worse - some guy wearing a hood and brandishing a scythe while on foot or some joker freak that would have no problem outrunning you and stabbing you with his terrifyingly pointy elf boots. Either way, it looks like another sleepless night.

'Til death do me in or I find Him first, don't go toward that light!