Post by Jack of Blades on Aug 18, 2006 11:35:47 GMT -5
(For today, the camera opens up on a room dedicated to treating the most insidious of diseases. Those of the mind. The camera identifies the setting as a psychiatrist’s office with the inclusion and position of a leather couch. How typical. The camera pans over revealing a series of polished pine bookcases holding leather texts that have remained unopened. The only purpose behind such a library is presentation, suggesting a sense of superiority of those that come searching for the doctor’s help. The camera eventually turns to the desk at the furthest end of the room where a wizened doctor furiously writes down musings and conclusions of psychological analysis on a notepad. The camera pans around the doctor revealing that he actually finishing a sudoku. The camera returns to face the doctor showing him puzzled before finally working out the correct number and writing it down. His scribbling is stopped by the sound of an opening door. The camera remains on the doctor, not revealing his guest, as he removes himself from his activity and seat to greet his next patient. The camera traces the doctor’s movements as he reaches the doorway and shakes hands with a very tentative ‘Bastard Clown.’)
Doctor Spatz: Please, have a seat, Mr…
Jack of Blades: It’s Blades. And I don’t mind if I do.
(Expecting Jack to take the leather couch, the doctor gestures towards it. Completely disregarding this, Jack of Blades hops over the leather couch and the desk, taking himself to the doctor’s chair. He sits down rather comfortably and places his feet on the table much to the chagrin of the medical professional. Realising that this is going to be a difficult case, he perches himself on the leather couch and begins to interact with the unique patient.)
Doctor Spatz: So, Mr Blades, what has brought you to me today?
Jack of Blades: Well Doc. I think – I think – sorry, this is kind of tough for me – I think, I’m losing my insanity. It’s kind of like –
(Interruptive) Doctor Spatz: Sorry, you’re losing your insanity?
Jack of Blades: Right. With the prefix ‘in.’ I’m going sane, finding my marbles, climbing onto my rocker, saving my grace and the like.
(Indulging Jack) Doctor Spatz: Ok.
Jack of Blades: Well, recently, I’ve been in contact with two people who have been questioning the validity of my claims on an incorrect mental state and it’s caused me to re-evaluate my psyche.
Doctor Spatz: And I assume these people are mental health professionals?
Jack of Blades: No, professional wrestlers.
(At this both Jack of Blades and Doctor Spatz turn and stare at the camera as if to hit home the complete ignorance and lack of experience behind the psychological babble of Dake Ken and Torture.)
Doctor Spatz: And just what do these ‘experts’ say?
Jack of Blades: Well, one says that I’m making it all up and the other adds that it’s just an attempt to garner attention from my peers. They say that I can’t really be called ‘insane.’
Doctor Spatz: And this bothers you?
Jack of Blades: Well, yeah. Just because I was voted Time Magazine’s ‘Person of the Year’ in 1986, 1995 and 2002, doesn’t mean that Ted Bundy would be shown to be a sympathetic character in comparison with myself. But I’m starting to think that maybe they’re right. Maybe I can’t be called ‘insane’ perse.
Doctor Spatz: Explain.
Jack of Blades: Well, maybe all the erratic giggling and anecdotes of slaughter doesn’t make me insane. Maybe I am truly well minded and the definition of insane cannot be applied in a character dissection of myself. I’m thinking that the word ‘insane’ doesn’t apply to me and I’m something completely different. I’m starting to think that the word ‘insane’ doesn’t mean bouncing around like a clown trying to inspire fear and hilarity in those present. Insane is not any of these things. Insane is working your way through sixty-five years worth of trivialities and injustices to earn a fake gold watch and a sporadic call of your adult children who have moved onto better things and have forgotten every last attempt you made to please them. Insane is a young father arriving at hospital to greet his newborn child and wife only to find out that he can’t because of ‘complications.’ Insane is having a lawsuit land on your doorstep because you share the same name. Insane is a single mother striving to support her children through prejudice and arrears while Regis gives away a million dollars to those who can answer a few questions. Insane should be considered trouncing through various developing countries claiming a ‘holy campaign’ when really siphoning oil. Nothing is more insane than a man who promotes lyrics about murder and gang warfare to an audience consisting of children and teenager, being given a lucrative contract to advertise some must-have trainers. Insane is airing ‘eating contests’ that peddle greed and obesity while in another country, a child is forced to lick the dust on his hand for substance. What is more insane than a man who mentions his clothing brand more than his murdered family? Nothing much. So there you go, I’m not insane. I just use it as a label for others to understand what I am.
(Exhausted) Doctor Spatz: Anything Else?
Jack of Blades: Also, I think I have Tourettes…shit, fuck, wank.
Doctor Spatz: Please, have a seat, Mr…
Jack of Blades: It’s Blades. And I don’t mind if I do.
(Expecting Jack to take the leather couch, the doctor gestures towards it. Completely disregarding this, Jack of Blades hops over the leather couch and the desk, taking himself to the doctor’s chair. He sits down rather comfortably and places his feet on the table much to the chagrin of the medical professional. Realising that this is going to be a difficult case, he perches himself on the leather couch and begins to interact with the unique patient.)
Doctor Spatz: So, Mr Blades, what has brought you to me today?
Jack of Blades: Well Doc. I think – I think – sorry, this is kind of tough for me – I think, I’m losing my insanity. It’s kind of like –
(Interruptive) Doctor Spatz: Sorry, you’re losing your insanity?
Jack of Blades: Right. With the prefix ‘in.’ I’m going sane, finding my marbles, climbing onto my rocker, saving my grace and the like.
(Indulging Jack) Doctor Spatz: Ok.
Jack of Blades: Well, recently, I’ve been in contact with two people who have been questioning the validity of my claims on an incorrect mental state and it’s caused me to re-evaluate my psyche.
Doctor Spatz: And I assume these people are mental health professionals?
Jack of Blades: No, professional wrestlers.
(At this both Jack of Blades and Doctor Spatz turn and stare at the camera as if to hit home the complete ignorance and lack of experience behind the psychological babble of Dake Ken and Torture.)
Doctor Spatz: And just what do these ‘experts’ say?
Jack of Blades: Well, one says that I’m making it all up and the other adds that it’s just an attempt to garner attention from my peers. They say that I can’t really be called ‘insane.’
Doctor Spatz: And this bothers you?
Jack of Blades: Well, yeah. Just because I was voted Time Magazine’s ‘Person of the Year’ in 1986, 1995 and 2002, doesn’t mean that Ted Bundy would be shown to be a sympathetic character in comparison with myself. But I’m starting to think that maybe they’re right. Maybe I can’t be called ‘insane’ perse.
Doctor Spatz: Explain.
Jack of Blades: Well, maybe all the erratic giggling and anecdotes of slaughter doesn’t make me insane. Maybe I am truly well minded and the definition of insane cannot be applied in a character dissection of myself. I’m thinking that the word ‘insane’ doesn’t apply to me and I’m something completely different. I’m starting to think that the word ‘insane’ doesn’t mean bouncing around like a clown trying to inspire fear and hilarity in those present. Insane is not any of these things. Insane is working your way through sixty-five years worth of trivialities and injustices to earn a fake gold watch and a sporadic call of your adult children who have moved onto better things and have forgotten every last attempt you made to please them. Insane is a young father arriving at hospital to greet his newborn child and wife only to find out that he can’t because of ‘complications.’ Insane is having a lawsuit land on your doorstep because you share the same name. Insane is a single mother striving to support her children through prejudice and arrears while Regis gives away a million dollars to those who can answer a few questions. Insane should be considered trouncing through various developing countries claiming a ‘holy campaign’ when really siphoning oil. Nothing is more insane than a man who promotes lyrics about murder and gang warfare to an audience consisting of children and teenager, being given a lucrative contract to advertise some must-have trainers. Insane is airing ‘eating contests’ that peddle greed and obesity while in another country, a child is forced to lick the dust on his hand for substance. What is more insane than a man who mentions his clothing brand more than his murdered family? Nothing much. So there you go, I’m not insane. I just use it as a label for others to understand what I am.
(Exhausted) Doctor Spatz: Anything Else?
Jack of Blades: Also, I think I have Tourettes…shit, fuck, wank.
