In which I complain about the ’66 Batman movie


I have just watched the movie that reinvented the word “campy.” I’m working on a research project for college that required watching a lot of Superhero movies. I had to pick from certain decades, so I picked the most famous ones I knew of. Of course, that meant I had to watch the 1966 Adam West Batman movie.

And it was painful.

In stead of wasting more time putting effort into writing a well thought out review about it, I figured I’d share my grumpy Facebook posts and let you discover what I thought of the movie that way

  1. Before the campiness really set in hard.


2. Seriously, how he figured out half of this stuff is the real mystery.batman-2_li

3. I think he used the weapons as, well, weapons, like once.batman-3_li

4. When I was starting to realize which circle of hell I’d managed to stumble into.batman-4_li

5. I wouldn’t have wanted my name in the credits for this movie.batman-5_li

6. Slowly slipping into a camp-induced coma.batman-6_li

7. I think I was in shock at this point.batman-7_li

8. The stupidity of this movie continued to astound me even this far in.batman-8_li

9. I mean, that’s pretty dumb, right?batman-9_li

10. When after more than an hour of pure cheese, I was finally released.batman-10_li


I’m creating this post while watching the 1978 Superman, which so far, beats the spandex off of both the ’66 Batman and the other Superman movie I watching today: Superman and the Molemen. Because that’s a thing that exists, apparently.

If you want to see more Superman/Batman grumping, head on over to my other blog and read my review of Dawn of Justice.

That time I almost died


You guys know I’m clumsy, and a lot of the time, I injure myself by doing stupid things. That said, the events that led to this title were NOT my fault. I swear. I did absolutely nothing to bring about my own pain. Except maybe not wear shoes.

My family was down in I’m thinking South Carolina at this time. We’d gone camping at a lake back when we still had a boat. And went camping. Man, I miss camping….

Anyway. My sister and I had gone down to the beach. We spent a while there before coming back for food. My parents had made hotdogs if I remember correctly. It was a few years ago, and I’ve have a few brain injuries since then, so I don’t remember everything clearly.

However, the one thing I DO remember was the feel of the little ant that bit my foot while I was using the hose to wash the sand off my feet. I can still feel that little bugger on the top of my left foot just below the ankle. I don’t remember if it was a fire ant or not, but man, it sure hurt like fire.

I was immediately distracted from the pain by the offering of juice and hotdogs. I thought that was the end of it. As you’ve read the title, you probably realize it wasn’t.

A few days later, back at home, I stared at the little red bite mark on my foot. Rather than fade, like most bug bites do, it had grown and was branching out. I playfully pointed it out to my mom, joking, “Hey, it looks like a stingray.” Indeed, the angry red mark had grown a tail that was creeping its way down to my big toe.

My mom looked at it and, in a rather uncharacteristic move for her, did not immediately rush me to the urgent care down the street. She rubbed some antibiotic ointment on top of it, remarking on how warm it was, and we soon forgot about it.

I was fine, apparently. The mark faded over time and eventually stopped hurting. The only odd thing was that every time my foot got warm, say by spending time in shoes or taking a shower, my little stingray came back. I was fascinated by it, but again, thought nothing of it.

It wasn’t until I went to a routine doctor’s appointment months later that I realized just how lucky I was. I had been wearing shoes at the time, and when I took them off, I noticed my stingray was back. On a lark, I decided to point it out to the doctor.

He was… quite alarmed. He asked how long I’d had it. I told him a few months, and he visibly relaxed and looked a little perplexed. He told me and my surprised mom that it was something called lymphangitis.

Simply enough, it’s an infection of the lymph vessels. The infection had spread a short distance down my foot, which was what caused the tail of my “stingray.” Left untreated, like we did, it often becomes a very serious condition and can kill people. Wikipedia says that people with lymphangitis should immediately be hospitalized and watched closely. I did neither.

At the very least, it should have been a lot worse. My doctor said I’d probably be fine, and (obviously) I was. To this day, I have no idea why it never spread anywhere else. I have no clue why it went away, other than maybe, against all evidence, I am just really lucky.

So yeah, the title is a little bit of an over-statement, but only a little one. *Winks*

And if you’re curious, yes, years later, the spot still comes back if my foot gets warm enough, although now it’s so faded it just kinda looks like a tiny bruise.

What about you? Any medical horror stories to share? Let me know in the comments.

How do you people find me?

Apparently people are still reading this blog. Nearly 7,000 people have visited this blog to this date. *Blushes deeply* Shucks guys. I really do appreciate every single person who reads my stuff (I appreciate you more if you comment). But that begs the question, where on earth do you all find me?

Looking at the google search engine keywords list, a lot of people come here looking for instructions on how to build a fence out of pvc pipes, because of that one post I did 3 years ago, which had nothing to do with building a fence out of pvc pipes. I get that.

But that doesn’t explain the vast majority of people who just show up and read my stuff randomly. I don’t publish regularly anywhere else. Like 10 people have bought my novelette on Amazon, so no one’s coming here from there. You can’t all be people who see me on Facebook as I only have 80 likes on my page there (where they came from is another conversation entirely).

It must be that there’s a whole bunch of you just out there floating around in the nebulous void known as “the internet,” and you occasionally bump into my posts and like them. Which is cool, I suppose.

Don’t mistake my puzzlement for ungratefulness. The fact that random people I don’t know come to like my posts makes me the happiest person ever. I just don’t understand why.

So let me ask you guys. Where do you come from? How did you manage to find me. For an added bonus, what’s been your favorite of my posts?

Don’t Starve. Don’t Panic. Die Anyway.


From the title, you can probably guess which game I’ve been playing lately. Don’t Starve is an indie survival game from Klei Entertainment. And it is BRUTAL.

The point of the game is to survive for as long as you can. There are people who do this incredibly well.

And then there’s me, who can’t make it past day 25 without freezing to death. That’s if I avoid the spiders, the lightning, and accidentally ticking off a whole bunch of pigmen and being pummeled to death.

Here are some things that have killed me more than once:

Darkness: 6 times. Feels like every time.

Spiders: 3 times. Fun fact: I once set a forest on fire to avoid spiders. A perfectly reasonable response in the game and reality.

Freezing: 2 times. Because winter is a harsh, demanding witch who won’t let me be a vegetarian.

Stupidest things that have killed me: Frogs, plants, mushrooms, and food.

And yes, I have starved to death. But so far, that only happened once. For a game called Don’t Starve it’s interesting to note that starving is usually the least of my worries. So far, the hardest thing to survive has been the darkness. I keep forgetting to get the fire going before the lights go out.

The most frustrating death I have experienced so far was when I was well set up to survive the winter, and then the lights went out. I quickly made a torch and then realized I had too much in my inventory. I frantically tried to drop something but I couldn’t, because of the darkness. I had to watch as the darkness ate me knowing that maybe I could have survived the winter if I had just lit the bloody fire two seconds earlier.

This game hates me.

Don't starve fire.png

I have don’t this many times. Mostly by accident.

That said, I am getting better. I’m getting better incredibly slowly, but it’s happening. Like anything in life, surviving Don’t Starve requires a lot of practice. And a great home location. And a metric ton of luck.

Yep, it’s just like life, actually.

So if you’re thinking about trying to play Don’t Starve, here’s a few tips to remember.

1. The Pigs are your smelly, greedy friends

Build your base near the pigs, but not right on top of them, because like most good friends, they will eat all your food if given the chance. But, they are great sources of manure (hopefully not like your friends), and you can always run to them if you need help. If something mean is chasing you, run to your piggy friends and they will murder it for you. This is how I have survived every hound attack. Just don’t attack them, even by accident. You will die.

2. Stock up for winter

If you want to survive longer than me, you’re going to have to prepare for winter. I’m not going to tell you how to do it, because I haven’t figured it out myself. I understand the principle behind surviving winter, but in practice, it’s a little less clear. The last game I played, I am pretty sure I could have survived off of the massive amount of tallbird eggs nearby, but then the darkness took me, so I’ll never know.

3. Make sure to set up your camp soon

If you haven’t made your camp by day five, you’ll be over run by hounds with no where to go. From what I understand, it’s recommended you build walls to stave off these attacks, but the last time I tried, I got half a wall and then ran into it and was eaten alive… So, do your own thing. I’m clearly no expert here.

Above all, if you’re going to play this game, have fun. It’s cruel, unforgiving, rage-inducing game that loves to hate you, but hey, you paid for it. It is fun, once you stop wanting to throw your computer across the room.

Treat it like a contest with yourself. If you immediately try to go for the 1,000-day mark, you’re going to end up demoralized fairly quickly. Just try to beat yourself. Just not with your computer, no matter how much you may want to.

Wait, what just happened?


I can’t believe I’m writing this post right now, recording for all of human history that Donald Trump won the election last night. I am the definition of incredulous right now. Seriously, can anyone explain to me what the ever-loving crap happened last night?


Me yesterday. I think my face says it all.

I thought it was going to be a short night. Hillary would win handily early on, and I could go to sleep with a growing sense of dread. Instead, Trump won Florida off the bat, and I had to settle in. I ended up staying up until they called Pennsylvania around 2 in the morning. And I fell asleep with a sense of amazement… and dread.

I know I’m  not the only one wondering how this all happened. A professor told me this morning that maybe two people knew this was coming: Ann Coulter and Liberty’s president, Jerry Falwell Jr. That may be true, but that leaves the vast majority of media outlets, pundits, analysts, and probably the American public very confused.

Ann coulter.gif

Alright, lady, you called it.

Still, as I sit in the cafeteria at my college, I can see that, although some people (including myself) look a little shell-shocked, life goes on pretty much as usual. People are still buying their morning coffee and posting their problems on Facebook. Students are still sitting around flirting with each other. Construction still goes on outside (always).

Some things never change.

I’m not sure I know what to make of this right now, but I do know one thing: my God is still on his throne. I’m clinging to that like a solid rock in the middle of a river of rapids. It’s going to be an interesting four years, but Jesus is still in control.

Below is the song I sang all the way home from the voting booth yesterday. It helped me. Maybe it will help you.


Dear Lynchburg Pedestrians and Drivers

Dear Lynchburg Pedestrians and Drivers,

First off, the drivers. I want to talk to you all first because I want to spend a lot more time talking to the pedestrians. Drivers, mainly, I want to beg you to turn off your brights. It is extremely difficult to drive in the mountains when I can’t see where I’m going. I very much do not want to plow my car either into the guard rail or into you.

Lynchburg is a very bright place. Ask my sister. She could barely sleep in my room when she came to visit because of the light coming in through the windows. With the exception of that weird stretch of highway where the lights suddenly disappear, every square inch of this city is LIT. And not in a good way. So turn off those bright lights, because when you don’t, I drive around with those little blobs in my eyes that I can’t see around.

Also, I’m sorry about that guy in the truck I almost ran over the other day. I forgot that Lynchburg inconsistently doesn’t have acceleration lanes. My bad, man.


Now look, I remember being a pedestrian before I got a car. It sucks, especially once it starts getting colder. I’ve almost been run over by cars before (twice in the same day once). I’ve already established that Lynchburg drivers can be kinda dumb. However, there are things that you can do to avoid getting run down like a deer on a country road.

For starters, if it’s dark outside, don’t wear dark clothing and then run in front of cars expecting them to stop. WE CAN’T SEE YOU. Even if your skin is white as snow, that doesn’t guarantee that I will be capable of seeing you. As the air gets colder and the clothing starts covering more body parts, this is going to become more of a problem.

Also, maybe just don’t run in front of cars. I know that a lot of you, especially at Liberty, are trying to get to class on time. I get it. I once had to make the Green Hall to Demoss Hall trek myself. Fifteen minutes is not enough time between classes. However, you won’t make it to class on time if you end up splayed out across the front of my hood. CROSS AT THE CROSSWALKS.

And speaking of crosswalks, when you’re in one, walk quickly. You have the right-of-way, sure, but that doesn’t mean you need to walk like a fricken’ snail. Move your tush. Save the deep thinking about that one question on your test you weren’t so sure about for the sidewalk.

Also bicyclists suck. All of them. This is just a fact.

Okay, that’s enough grumbling. What about you guys? Have drivers or pedestrians been getting on your nerves lately?

This needs to end

I have a 22 page script due by Sunday, but I can’t focus because I watched this video and I’m crying. I’m sorry to dump a heavy post on you guys right after a funny one, but this is important. Just watch.

Guys, I am so tired of hearing about these things happening. I’m angry at the people that think it’s okay to destroy their own neighborhoods, or anyone’s neighborhood, to make a point. But mostly, I’m incredibly heartbroken.

My heart breaks for the police officers, journalists, and citizens who have been hurt in the riots in Charlotte, Baltimore, Ferguson, and everywhere else there’s been unrest in the last few years. It breaks my heart that people are looking at each other like monsters instead of humans. It breaks my heart that hatred is gaining ground while love is pushed aside.

Honestly, I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know that there’s anything I can do. I’m just one person, and my greatest weapon is my words.

It’s just not enough.

I’m the kind of person that hates no one. But I hate this.

charlotte riots.jpg

I hate that this is what our country has come to, and I hate how little I can do to help.

I don’t want to see anyone get shot by the police. But I also don’t want to see people shooting police, looting businesses, or destroying lives and livelihoods in their own neighborhoods.

To the people rioting now, please, for the love of humanity, stop this. You’ll get no where. Riots can only set your cause back and hurt people in the process. It’s a tragedy when someone gets shot by the police, but greater tragedies don’t need to follow it.

If every time a person was shot by the cops, other people didn’t come in to stir people up and cause a riot, then one life would be lost. One family would be mourning. Instead, we get riots that destroy dozens of lives.

I don’t how to fix this, but this has to stop. Somehow.

I want to end this post on a positive note. I watched this next video right after I watched the first one I posted. People like this guy give me hope.

There are people out there, the majority probably, who understand that the way to end violence is not through more violence. Let us hope that their quiet voices can someday drown out the screaming masses.