If you haven’t heard about Josef Fritzl as I’m assuming most of us have, here’s the quick, (skip it if you already know) lowdown. It’s fucking bizarre and getting weirder with each day.
Josef Fritzl, 73, built a sound proofed living area with an electronically sealed door 24 years ago to properly seal away his kidnapped daughter Elisabeth who was around 18. He told his wife she had run away indefinitely. A letter in her handwriting validated the lie.
Over the course of 24 years seven children were born. Three of the fruits of incest are raised upstairs as notes written in Elisabeth’s handwriting arrive with the infants who grow up thinking their unwanting parents abandoned. One pregnancy yielded twins but only one of them survived. Fritzl says he disposed of the tiny body in a furnace.
Seven kids later the oldest daughter Kerstin lapses into a coma. Elisabeth’s days of pleading pay off and Fritzl decides to play his Kid on the Doorstep card. This note says she is unable and unwilling to care for her daughter.
At the hospital the doctors can’t rouse Kerstin. They are fed the same story about Elisabeth’s disappearance. The hospital contacts the news and a message goes out asking for Elisabeth to PLEASE contact the hospital as they need more information to help her.
Elisabeth had a TV in her chamber (see, Fritzl wasn’t a TOTAL monster—she could watch TV!) and saw the message. She convinced her capture/rapist/father if he let her out she would answer their questions and stick to the story about the cult—which makes me mad as I hope to start my own cult soon and I do NOT appreciate Fritzl furthering their defaming. I’ll let you guys know when you can apply.
As soon as she was alone, she confessed it all to the police.
End of low down.
If a writer friend had pitched this as a story of fiction to me I think I would have replied with something like, “C’mon, what the fucking fuck, that’s a little too far fetched!”
News like this is such a slap in the face it’s almost too much to wrap one’s mind around. There’s almost too much to consider. I’ve tried to though.
Imagine growing up in cellar room. Everyday, the same electrically powered lights to see you through the day. You’ve been born into a prison for committing a crime of fate. You’re a living byproduct of the choices of a cold, ugly man. You’ve never seen the sun. You’ve never run further than the length of a hallway. You eat what he brings you.
Imagine at eighteen your father who has already abused you lures you into the cellar, drugs and binds you. Imagine you’re pregnant and are going to give birth in your prison, assisted only by the man who captured you. As your father ages he tells you if anything happens to him, poisonous gas will fill the chamber.
Imagine trying pleading for the life of your oldest daughter who you’ve raised in the chamber for the last nineteen years goes into a coma and it takes days to convince him to take her to the hospital but only after you’ve penned a note saying your are unable and unwilling to take care of Kerstin. The same bittersweet note you’ve written to free three of your surviving children.
I mentioned the case gets stranger with each passing day. Apparently Fritzl rented out a room to a man for twelve years—all he knew about the cellar Fritzl disappeared into is that if he or anyone renting a room, it was grounds for immediate eviction.
There’s been no comment from Mrs. Fritzl yet. One hopes an intense naïveness and overly trusting nature clouded her vision and she couldn’t really see what was going on. I’m trying to fight my own cynical nature until she comments and explains what happened.
Which I think is what most of us are thinking—how could something like this happen?
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Dentaly Challenged
Last time I had a tooth turn on me it was a molar. Luckily, I was in college and had zero medical coverage so all I could really afford was to have the bastard pulled. Mrs. Bastard's job provides decent dental, so when a corner chipped off during a vigorous contest with a candy coated malt egg, I went in hoping it was a some drilling and a filling.
After my dentist got into my tooth (who loves the smell of burning tooth? OMG me too!) we found out it was not to be so. The choice to make (after he removed the sexy dental damn and the device that helps keep the mouth open) was pull it or do a root canal.
Being kind of young yet, it seemed like the smart thing to do was to get a root canal. Oh, who the fuck am I kidding--I had insurance for once in my life so I opted to keep my Bastard's Smile in tact. Otherwise, I'd be down two teeth.
Apparently most teeth have three roots--unless you're a bastard. Then you get to have four, which makes for more drilling and an extra nerve to pull out. That forth root, however, was infected.
Apparently, some of a root canal's bad reputation stems from infected roots. The PH level of the infection has a neutralizing effect on anesthesia. So if the dentist keeps on drilling--you're gonna feel it.
My dentist opted to throw on a temporary filling and have me come back in ten or days.
TEN or so days later, I'm back in the chair. Infection is gone. My first root canal is finally going to happen! No more of this "just the tip, baby" bullshit.
After I was all numbed up and my mouth properly wedged open he explained the procedure and how it was going to take at least an hour, probably an hour and a half. His assistant put headphones on me and handed me the remote. She explains it's not cable, just a bunch of movies.
The chair goes back into the laying position and the ceiling TV comes on. The drill starts spinning but I can still hear the shows. I began flipping through the movies, just letting the channel change, not really looking at what's on.
I stoppedthe channel surfing randomly as my dentist positioned himself above me, his trusty drill in hand.
What's on? Cast Away.
What part? Every one's favorite I'm sure--the part where he takes out a tooth with a rock and an ice skate.
I can't help it--I have a morbid sense of humor I guess. I start laughing. Apparently this isn't a common reaction to ungassed patients. He stopped and looked questioningly at me. I gestured up as best I could. If he'd looked up a second later he'd had missed the scene and I'd just be the crazy guy who thinks root canals are funny. But he gazed up in time.
He laughed while I chuckled and drooled. "See," he said, flipping his tooth drill back on. "It could be worse!"
After my dentist got into my tooth (who loves the smell of burning tooth? OMG me too!) we found out it was not to be so. The choice to make (after he removed the sexy dental damn and the device that helps keep the mouth open) was pull it or do a root canal.
Being kind of young yet, it seemed like the smart thing to do was to get a root canal. Oh, who the fuck am I kidding--I had insurance for once in my life so I opted to keep my Bastard's Smile in tact. Otherwise, I'd be down two teeth.
Apparently most teeth have three roots--unless you're a bastard. Then you get to have four, which makes for more drilling and an extra nerve to pull out. That forth root, however, was infected.
Apparently, some of a root canal's bad reputation stems from infected roots. The PH level of the infection has a neutralizing effect on anesthesia. So if the dentist keeps on drilling--you're gonna feel it.
My dentist opted to throw on a temporary filling and have me come back in ten or days.
TEN or so days later, I'm back in the chair. Infection is gone. My first root canal is finally going to happen! No more of this "just the tip, baby" bullshit.
After I was all numbed up and my mouth properly wedged open he explained the procedure and how it was going to take at least an hour, probably an hour and a half. His assistant put headphones on me and handed me the remote. She explains it's not cable, just a bunch of movies.
The chair goes back into the laying position and the ceiling TV comes on. The drill starts spinning but I can still hear the shows. I began flipping through the movies, just letting the channel change, not really looking at what's on.
I stoppedthe channel surfing randomly as my dentist positioned himself above me, his trusty drill in hand.
What's on? Cast Away.
What part? Every one's favorite I'm sure--the part where he takes out a tooth with a rock and an ice skate.
I can't help it--I have a morbid sense of humor I guess. I start laughing. Apparently this isn't a common reaction to ungassed patients. He stopped and looked questioningly at me. I gestured up as best I could. If he'd looked up a second later he'd had missed the scene and I'd just be the crazy guy who thinks root canals are funny. But he gazed up in time.
He laughed while I chuckled and drooled. "See," he said, flipping his tooth drill back on. "It could be worse!"
Monday, April 28, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Dear Consumers: You're Still Dumb and We McLove It!
A bad, bad, bad experience with some evil McNuggets and puking from wake to sleep soured me on McDonalds years ago. Mrs. Bastard and I were only dating then, but she split the meal with me, so we bonded as we tried not to puke on each other. It helped me prove I was a gentleman. I let her heave her guts into the toilet while I used the sink.
Today, if someone suggests McDonalds as a lunch destination, I send an elbow right above their eye, grab them by the collar and through clenched teeth growl, “You go get me a WHOPPER!”
I’ve accepted the fact that I’ll be avoiding McDonalds for the rest of my life. If Jack in the Box could kill children with their undercooked hamburgers (ala that 1993 outbreak of e coli ) I’m pretty sure ol’ Ronald McDonald could rape some kids in from of their moms, set the family on fire and piss all over the ashes and the general populous would still be happily ordering Big Mac’s.
Adding to the many reasons to be annoyed is their expanding menu in the hopes of competing with other franchises. More coffee flavors? Your ship’s sinking Starbucks! Sub style sandwiches that aren’t deep fried and drenched in mayo? Methinks I hear Subway’s death toll sounding! And who are the people renting their fucking movies from a red vending machine in McDonalds?
They aren’t stopping there either. In Britain, McDonalds has decided to make their food more appealing to the tea and crumpet crowd.
“Oh good, Bastard!” You say. “They’re improving the quality of their product! Maybe now their burgers will grow fungus like normal burgers placed under glass!*”
Wrong again, asshole! McDonalds hired British fashion designer Bruce Oldfield, to redesign the staff uniforms at McDonalds. This is what he came up with:
I just love the McScarf! Nothing makes feel better about mass produced deep fried grease food than having it served by well dressed employee. It’s just fucking classy and that just proves how classy I am for super sizing my meal.
You have to wonder when the U.S. uniforms will be changing and how it will appeal to our American sensibilities. I’m envisioning a McHooters situation, but with more of a classy low cut shirt to show off the girls and maybe some of the tuxedo print t-shirts for the boys. Oh, and minimum wage and shitty insurance for all!
*Watch the extras on Super Size Me—they don’t.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Spreading the eWealth!
I apologize for posting this later in the day—later than I would have liked anyways. I typically have my article written before heading out for work on Monday and Thursday. I read over of it, make any corrections and the post it from work. I figure since I don’t smoke it counts as a break. Anyways, today was crazy right out of the shoot—but that’s a whole other blog. So, I apologize to anyone who checked and checked and checked for the new blog.
_
Once upon a time, when my daughter was three she threw a hellacious fit—we’re talking yelling and screaming, feet and fist pounding on the floor, head spinning in circles while pea-green fluid shot out like half kinked hose kind of a fit. All provoked because she had missed a family favorite TV show known as The Simpson.
Our parental reaction was simple; we turned off the cable. I admit it was with a smug sort of pleasure that I showed her all of the static filled channels. For three glorious years we didn’t have TV. The dusty beast stayed off unless we were playing a video game or watching a movie.
I graduated college and moved into a house where the cable is bundled in with the rent—having it off wasn’t an option thanks to a housing association. College had choked much of the life out of my casual reading habit and so once again, we have cable TV and it didn’t sound like the most horrible idea in the world.
It was incredibly strange to have it back on. I was in shock at all of the reality TV programming, all with huge amounts of editors and writers listed in the credits. People were being anything but real and I couldn’t stomach any of it. It seemed the only “real” things left on TV was sports and nature shows.
There are only handfuls of shows I watch of my own accord. Mrs. Bastard is a Law and Order junky and it’s not a bad show, so I can stay in the room while she’s getting her fix.
I hear good things about Lost—which I haven’t watch mostly to aggravate my good friend Flo, just for shits ‘n giggles, and I hear Hero’s is awesome.
My problem with TV shows is the initial reasons one likes a show and gets attached become lost as the seasons wear on and the focus becomes keeping viewers as opposed to staying true to a story—or I end up being among the minority of fans who go down with the ship, so to speak, as the series isn’t picked up. Deadwood, for example, is probably my favorite show ever that never got finished.
I like good stories be it in book form or show form. I wouldn’t say I’m an anime fan, but I do watch some anime. The difference for me is anime fans will sit through shitty storylines simply because they are watching anime. And I don’t read manga, so I have that level of separation as well.
The main problem is all the quality story anime is hard to come by. If you don’t’ have high speed internet I’m not sure how you would access it. Adult Swim has picked up some of the series but so much is lost in the translation I’d rather read the subtitles (subbed) instead of the voice over version (dubbed).
Mrs. Bastard and I both work. We have one car and kids. Often times she’s not done with work until the early a.m. so unless I want to bundle up the kids after midnight to go fetch her home—I’m without a car all evening.
Going out to the movies is incredibly rare—and when we do get the opportunity it’s usually after all the good movies have left town—and if they’re rated “R” they do so fast.
We have one movie theater company in town and what movies are played is heavily influenced by the Mormon standards (they aren’t supposed to watch R rated movies). So, There Will Be Blood was here for all of a week.
Joox.net is my salvation and not everyone knows about it, so I’m taking some time to spread the wealth on my own prompting. Meaning Joox didn’t call me up and say, “Hey Bastard, give us a shout out! Here’s a pile of money.” Joox has TV shows, movies, documentaries, anime, kid cartoons…really there’s just so much. I’ve been watching Blood (in the anime section).
It’s not perfect—not everything will load, but most of it does. And there’s nothing you need to download except maybe a quick update that lets you view the programs with their software. It’s all streamed, like YouTube. Also similar to the Tube, you can upload programs as well.
Free is undeniably nice and I justify (rationalize, whatever!) watching it without a ticket or receipt because typically if something is good, I like to own my own copy. Where as if I find some music I like, I try and buy t-shirt or go to their concert—something that puts the funds closer to the artists.
So, if you’re life doesn’t permit you to get out as often as you like for whatever reason, check Joox out. And if you see something like don’t be shy about trying to get some money their way. And if it sucks—fuck ‘em! At least the price was right.
_
Once upon a time, when my daughter was three she threw a hellacious fit—we’re talking yelling and screaming, feet and fist pounding on the floor, head spinning in circles while pea-green fluid shot out like half kinked hose kind of a fit. All provoked because she had missed a family favorite TV show known as The Simpson.
Our parental reaction was simple; we turned off the cable. I admit it was with a smug sort of pleasure that I showed her all of the static filled channels. For three glorious years we didn’t have TV. The dusty beast stayed off unless we were playing a video game or watching a movie.
I graduated college and moved into a house where the cable is bundled in with the rent—having it off wasn’t an option thanks to a housing association. College had choked much of the life out of my casual reading habit and so once again, we have cable TV and it didn’t sound like the most horrible idea in the world.
It was incredibly strange to have it back on. I was in shock at all of the reality TV programming, all with huge amounts of editors and writers listed in the credits. People were being anything but real and I couldn’t stomach any of it. It seemed the only “real” things left on TV was sports and nature shows.
There are only handfuls of shows I watch of my own accord. Mrs. Bastard is a Law and Order junky and it’s not a bad show, so I can stay in the room while she’s getting her fix.
I hear good things about Lost—which I haven’t watch mostly to aggravate my good friend Flo, just for shits ‘n giggles, and I hear Hero’s is awesome.
My problem with TV shows is the initial reasons one likes a show and gets attached become lost as the seasons wear on and the focus becomes keeping viewers as opposed to staying true to a story—or I end up being among the minority of fans who go down with the ship, so to speak, as the series isn’t picked up. Deadwood, for example, is probably my favorite show ever that never got finished.
I like good stories be it in book form or show form. I wouldn’t say I’m an anime fan, but I do watch some anime. The difference for me is anime fans will sit through shitty storylines simply because they are watching anime. And I don’t read manga, so I have that level of separation as well.
The main problem is all the quality story anime is hard to come by. If you don’t’ have high speed internet I’m not sure how you would access it. Adult Swim has picked up some of the series but so much is lost in the translation I’d rather read the subtitles (subbed) instead of the voice over version (dubbed).
Mrs. Bastard and I both work. We have one car and kids. Often times she’s not done with work until the early a.m. so unless I want to bundle up the kids after midnight to go fetch her home—I’m without a car all evening.
Going out to the movies is incredibly rare—and when we do get the opportunity it’s usually after all the good movies have left town—and if they’re rated “R” they do so fast.
We have one movie theater company in town and what movies are played is heavily influenced by the Mormon standards (they aren’t supposed to watch R rated movies). So, There Will Be Blood was here for all of a week.
Joox.net is my salvation and not everyone knows about it, so I’m taking some time to spread the wealth on my own prompting. Meaning Joox didn’t call me up and say, “Hey Bastard, give us a shout out! Here’s a pile of money.” Joox has TV shows, movies, documentaries, anime, kid cartoons…really there’s just so much. I’ve been watching Blood (in the anime section).
It’s not perfect—not everything will load, but most of it does. And there’s nothing you need to download except maybe a quick update that lets you view the programs with their software. It’s all streamed, like YouTube. Also similar to the Tube, you can upload programs as well.
Free is undeniably nice and I justify (rationalize, whatever!) watching it without a ticket or receipt because typically if something is good, I like to own my own copy. Where as if I find some music I like, I try and buy t-shirt or go to their concert—something that puts the funds closer to the artists.
So, if you’re life doesn’t permit you to get out as often as you like for whatever reason, check Joox out. And if you see something like don’t be shy about trying to get some money their way. And if it sucks—fuck ‘em! At least the price was right.
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