Log in


So upon learning that my favorite science fiction novel, "The Princess of Mars" was being made into a movie, headed by the director, Andrew Stanton, of WALL-E, I think I did something terrible to my pants. I mean, this story was probably the story that influenced all the other superhero/awesomeness/Chuck Norris stories, so I thought I share something with you, completely from badassoftheweek.com
By the way, I could not have put "Princess of Mars" in better terms than they have done here. It's absolutely-effing brilliant! Warning: Language heavy

"Before Han Solo. Before Lieutenant Starbuck, Captain Kirk and Flash Gordon. Even before Buck Rogers there was John Carter of Mars; the Warlord of Barsoom, the unparalleled swordsman and the Original Gangsta of intergalactic adventurers and alien assbeaters.

John Carter is the hero of a series of early twentieth century novels by Edgar Rice Burroughs and owner of a Class-A Asskicker License. A Confederate cavalry officer turned frontiersman cowboy, Carter one day finds himself somehow inexplicably teleported to the planet Mars, where he wastes no time in beating the shit out of every alien he meets, scoring with the hottest babe on the planet and making himself Emperor of Mars.

First off, the first novel in the series (A Princess of Mars) was originally written in 1911, back when men wanted their men to be MEN and not sniveling coward pussies who did lame shit like cry about their feelings and not punch people in the face. And Carter is no exception. As soon as he lands on Mars he realizes that everyone there is a weakling because they have shitty gravity there and Earth gravity rules so he just runs around punching alien monsters in the face and jumping on top of buildings and doing kickass awesome shit like eating plants. Eventually the nine foot-tall green alien creatures he meets up with decide he's so badass that he should fight one of their chiefs, and of course Carter kills the stupid bastard by stabbing him in the heart about a thousand times and takes over as a lesser chief of the tribe.

One day some stupid assholes show up in their flying airships and get their shit wrecked by the green men that John Carter is chilling with. Well in the wreckage of the airships the green dudes capture a total alien mega-babe from a crazy race of Martians that look exactly like regular humans only their skin is a little redder and they don't wear much in the way of clothing. Well John Carter is like, "well fuck these guys, I'm going to help this hot naked alien space babe escape", and so they get the fuck out of Dodge and try to bring her back to the city-state she's the Princess of.

The rest of the story basically involves a series of crazy fucking adventures where John Carter ends up traveling throughout the entire face of Mars trying to rescue this chick, who is continually getting captured and transported to various locations. Along the way, John Carter battles crazy alien civilizations, obliterates an entire cult of Martian asshole priests, recruits tough-as-hell followers, explores uncharted regions and escapes from impenetrable fortresses armed solely with his wits, grim determination, super jumping ability and tireless sword arm. Oh, and every hot babe he meets falls in love with him.

Holy shit John Carter is awesome. First off, he's doesn't back down from a fight for any reason. He could be completely fucking unarmed and fifteen gorillas could walk up to him and if one of them even so much as looked at him funny he'd flip out and punch all of them to death and pull out their brains. Secondly, his Earth strength makes him a total badass of the first degree on Mars, and he can jack motherfuckers in the mouth and lay them out with one hit like he was Mike Tyson on PCP. Oh, and he's also a fucking platinum-grade swordsman and it just so happens that Mars is a backwards-ass planet where the blade is the weapon of choice. So Carter spends like 80% of his time hacking aliens to pieces and urinating on their corpses while flying around on airships shooting machine guns at panda bears and breaking giant spiders in half with his teeth.

In addition to all this shit that already makes him badass, John Carter has a warrior's code of honor, which is totally respectable. He's not a cold-blooded murderer but rather a hardened soldier who never backs down, never retreats and never loses a battle. I guess when you're as badass as J.C. you don't have to resort to stabbing idiots in their sleep. I'm sure it's much more satisfying to best your enemies in single combat by ramming your sword through their hearts, especially if you've got serious beef with them or if you need to kill them to defend your woman's honor.

I still feel as though I'm not doing the badassitude of this character justice in this article though, so I'm just going to conclude it here. I do suggest that you pick up a copy of A Princess of Mars if you're into cheesy old-school sci-fi, because few of the space heroes who came after have anything on John Carter of Mars."

Bonus: Taylor Kitsch is playing John Carter by the way...
Prompt: What could set you off into a killing spree?
Note: A prompt I wish I could have gotten.

So today was an alright day. Another eight hours spent in a zoo of sorts. Captivity in a confined space, surrounded by white walls, I'm surprised that cubicle workers have not gone off their rockers and start a killing spree. Those white walls are a travesty to interior design. They are blank canvases of mass destruction, slowly tearing away various pieces of one's sanity; stripping it, slicing it, and stabbing it away. These same white walls are a terror of their own and deserve to be put down as a dangerous threat to sanity. The white walls are so devoid of life, they have decided to suck life out of us as well. These white walls whisper quietly, seductively into my ear, "Come to the Institution, we'll save you, redeem you, so you are spared from the Revolution." I close my eyes, and hopefully by the time I count to five, my demons will be gone.

As I open my eyes, I realized my demons had not disappeared, but rather stood on the shoulder of someone who needed redemption. My hands closed around the stiletto, because I could redeem this man. Right now.

How To Be Sad

80 sparkling stars,
colors that range from orange, pink, blue, purple, and green.
There are so many things unseen.

Pins that collide with each other.
Hilarious remarks, band quotes, and green luck.

Post notes stacked on top of each other, 
topped on by a Hard Rock Cafe bracelet.

A watch that stands all alone.
Time is all it has.

A sketch book containing drawings of many variations.
Elves, indians, Princess Leia, and Wiccan.
A pencil rests on top, pointing Northwest, it never stops.

Music spreads all around,
notes, scales, trebles, clefs, and two instruments cast off to the side.
CD's, its player, music of various sorts, cast off.

Chess, the overwhelming-seductive-melodramatic-hype
ractive game
sits and stares off into the world.

The wine glass rests on top of the shelf,
dominating the room with its superior glance.

Books are scattered around, filling the room with knowledge.

Stuffed animals that remind a person of one's childhood are askew.

A girl's body of 15 lies in the middle of the mess.

Crimson liquid flows from the back, tears that are unwipable stay on her face.

Her soul is gone.

The perfect murder? No.
The perfect suicide.




Latest Month

June 2009


RSS Atom
Powered by LiveJournal.com