EUROPE- In the new Zarbinski directed horror flick, Watch Me Watching You, the viewer is taken on an emotional roller coaster ride filled with twists and turns to rival a mountain road. But the finale of the merciless plot is a heavier blow than usually expected. "I just didn't see how the average movie theater patron could relate to the story without facing their own demise," said Zarbinski.
That's right, we are all dead.
Zarbinski got the idea when watching the Sixth Sense. "I wanted to take the 'I see dead people' line to the next level," said Zarbinski. "I wanted it to become, 'I am dead people.'" Five minutes before the horror film ends, the viewer is faced with the protagonist's death. Zarbinski wanted the audience to feel utterly defeated before he dealt the final plot twist- their own mortality.
"Why do people come to horror movies?" asked Zarbinski. "To feel dread and hopelessness... I have delivered on all counts, but will I receive an Oscar? No." Zarbinski, who specializes in horror flicks, feels his niche in the industry is slighted by the Academy. He hoped that the unique twist of fate at the end of Watch Me Watching You would earn him his first nomination. "I really just want all of the Academy judges to watch it so they realize they're lifeless vacuums too, that would be swell," said Zarbinski.
Many are calling this horror film the apocalypse, genocide, and interestingly, a zombie invasion. If one thing can be agreed upon, it's that the film has caused utter chaos. Relatives aren't returning from their afternoon movies, first dates are abruptly brought to a close, and thousands of suicides have been performed already. "It can't be genocide," said Robert York, the mental health chair at St. Mary's Hospital. "It's so non discriminatory- if you have a pulse and see this movie, you must die essentially. You can't get much more inclusive than that."
York does take the other allegations more seriously. "As for the zombie theory...well, I've had both katana and flame thrower within arm's reach for the past seven years...come at me you brainless bastards, I'll lay waste to you."
This reporter refuses to watch the movie, because I value life and am a self proclaimed coward. However, Zarbinski has not yet watched the entire film either. "I need to do more with my life, I have an unfilled destiny or prophecy as it were," said Zarbinski. "I plan to change the course of the children's genre forever...and that's all I can say on the subject."
Watch Me Watching You has already claimed 45 million lives worldwide. An attempt to ban the movie has already occurred, but free speech activists have slowed the process. "We all have the right to realize or deny our own mortality," said activist Cheryl Noble. "This film is just an expression of that, and though I do not wish to die immediately, I will defend to the death the filmmaker's right to experiment with life itself."
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Op-Ed: Neti Pots Have Not Been My Ruination
Midwest- Hello readers. For my op-ed this week, I'd like to confide in you, the people, about my personal life. I often write about the happenings around the country and the world, but I think my life actually warrants some notice this week, despite what my crotchety wife says.
I have been a clandestine user of Neti Pots since they graced the infomercials some years ago. My nose had become a problem, and there were not enough tissues or self-help books to ease my pain. In short I turned to the bottle, and ended any trace of marital love between my now bitter wife and I. Even my cats rejected me, but to be fair they had always rejected me, they were just less graceful about it now.
Depressed, cat-deprived, and mucous, I crawled meekly to my local clinic, begging for relief in either the form of a pill or swift death. Little did I know that the waiting room TV held all of my life's answers for me. The Neti Pot's wisdom had just begun to blossom, with the peaceful, semi androgynous woman calmly tilting her head in that graceful arch, as the fluid ran from her nose. I must say I was entranced, when I stood I realized I had a slight erection. I let my swollen member guide me out of the room, to my hatchback, and back to my barren house I called home. I ordered two Neti Pots and my life had begun.
When they arrived my wife could scarcely look at me. She told me I was no man, a eunuch in the eyes of everyone, especially her. I ignored her wicked words and unpacked the treasures delicately. For my first nasal irrigation, I lit candles, put on smooth jazz, and wore my silk bathrobe. I wanted this moment to be sacred, my sham of a life that I had practically given up on was within reach.
When I put the tip to nostril, I shuddered slightly with excitement. The warm mixture slithered down my nasal passage, claiming me as it went. When the water came out of the other side, I felt as if all of the other elements were pouring out with it. A deep moan escaped me, I was filled with such relief and indescribable pleasure. From that moment on Neti Pots became my fix, a drug and anti-drug all in the same package. I had never felt such an attachment in all my 53 years. I was home.
It took years for me to finally come out about my feelings for the Neti Pots. My wife continued to ignore me until she could take it no more. She burst into my ceremony one evening and gave me an ultimatum: it was either her and the cats or the Neti Pots. Only a fool would choose hatred over love. I chose the only faithful servant I had remaining, the Neti Pot.
So you see, Neti Pots have not been my ruination. There are no more secrets, falsities, or passive aggressive tendencies. I've been sober for three years, and am proud to say I no longer have fantasies of my own death. If I were to owe my life to any one thing, living or inanimate, it would be the Neti Pot. It has done more for me in this world than any creature ever could. Thank you Neti Pot, may your saline solution spread far and wide filling the nostril of every man, woman, and child.
I have been a clandestine user of Neti Pots since they graced the infomercials some years ago. My nose had become a problem, and there were not enough tissues or self-help books to ease my pain. In short I turned to the bottle, and ended any trace of marital love between my now bitter wife and I. Even my cats rejected me, but to be fair they had always rejected me, they were just less graceful about it now.
Depressed, cat-deprived, and mucous, I crawled meekly to my local clinic, begging for relief in either the form of a pill or swift death. Little did I know that the waiting room TV held all of my life's answers for me. The Neti Pot's wisdom had just begun to blossom, with the peaceful, semi androgynous woman calmly tilting her head in that graceful arch, as the fluid ran from her nose. I must say I was entranced, when I stood I realized I had a slight erection. I let my swollen member guide me out of the room, to my hatchback, and back to my barren house I called home. I ordered two Neti Pots and my life had begun.
When they arrived my wife could scarcely look at me. She told me I was no man, a eunuch in the eyes of everyone, especially her. I ignored her wicked words and unpacked the treasures delicately. For my first nasal irrigation, I lit candles, put on smooth jazz, and wore my silk bathrobe. I wanted this moment to be sacred, my sham of a life that I had practically given up on was within reach.
When I put the tip to nostril, I shuddered slightly with excitement. The warm mixture slithered down my nasal passage, claiming me as it went. When the water came out of the other side, I felt as if all of the other elements were pouring out with it. A deep moan escaped me, I was filled with such relief and indescribable pleasure. From that moment on Neti Pots became my fix, a drug and anti-drug all in the same package. I had never felt such an attachment in all my 53 years. I was home.
It took years for me to finally come out about my feelings for the Neti Pots. My wife continued to ignore me until she could take it no more. She burst into my ceremony one evening and gave me an ultimatum: it was either her and the cats or the Neti Pots. Only a fool would choose hatred over love. I chose the only faithful servant I had remaining, the Neti Pot.
So you see, Neti Pots have not been my ruination. There are no more secrets, falsities, or passive aggressive tendencies. I've been sober for three years, and am proud to say I no longer have fantasies of my own death. If I were to owe my life to any one thing, living or inanimate, it would be the Neti Pot. It has done more for me in this world than any creature ever could. Thank you Neti Pot, may your saline solution spread far and wide filling the nostril of every man, woman, and child.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)