Hello dear readers, new and old, but mostly new because I've moved on from a lot of you old ones. As you newbies may not be familiar with the back catalogue of this blog -- the deep cuts if you will, unless the world's not yet ready for suicide puns -- and since in recent years the blog has dabbled in unrelated topics or just not been kept up with because its author is a lazy asshole, I thought it important to bring back the topic of depression. That and a lot of you are still so bafflingly stupid when it comes to understanding the disease.
This is the cure, right?
Since moving to New York I've come across a handful of other people who suffer from depression (go figure) and through them I meet others who continue to remain ignorant on why their friends are sad sometimes. And it's not their lack of understanding that frustrates me, it's their unwillingness to try and understand it. Something bad doesn't even need to happen for someone to get depressed, it just happens on its own most of the time.
"But Tyler," you might enquire. "You're so funny and social and talented and good looking. Really good looking! How can you possibly be depressed?"
Well first of all, thank you for the compliments. Second, remember when Robin Williams killed himself? I sure do. I remember constantly being on the verge of tears for two days afterwards and not really understanding why aside from the fact that he was my favorite actor as a child. I had recently gotten better from a bad bout of depression and then suddenly this man who, in my mind, had everything that I ever wanted -- success, money, a family and an impact left on every person, famous or not, he came across in his life -- decided to end it all. The biggest reason I kept pushing through the depression was the thought that one day I could have all of that and maybe more, so when someone who had all of that takes his own life I'm left wondering what am I fighting for?
Anyway that story ends with me texting a close friend* and her explaining to me the chemical aspect of depression and suggesting I see someone so I do and...yeah, here I am.
So I don't entirely blame you all for not understanding the full effects of depression, since I hardly did and I'd been going through it. But Christ, you've got to have a lot of nerve to tell a depressed person to "cheer up." That and the infamous "stop being sad" earn you a special place in hell in my mind. But there's hope for you, my friends, hope that you won't be so stupid forever. However this might require you to actually listen to your friends when they talk so this may be difficult for a lot of you. To ease you along, I've prepared a list of facts that you'd do well to memorize and understand:
Funny people can be depressed
Rich people can be depressed
Pretty people can be depressed
Talented people can be depressed
People who have no obvious reason to be sad can be depressed
Sad music doesn't affect whether you're depressed or not
Nor do sad movies
Depression doesn't just "end" one day. It's not a cold
If a depressed person wants to talk, you need to listen
Someone who attempts suicide is not crazy, they need help
Self-harm is more common and normal than you think, but shouldn't go unchecked
If you get angry at someone for being depressed, you're an asshole
Please laugh when we joke about being depressed. It's awkward otherwise
So hopefully that helps. In my case the depression comes and goes but it's never fully gone. I know a lot of people who are at the same point I am and that's a big step for people like us. That says that we were at some pretty low lows but kept going on the promise that things would get better, and they did, so we know it wasn't a lie. I stress the word better because things won't really be perfect ever. Depression is like living constantly in a Tears for Fears song: there are highs and lows but always with a subtle darkness over it all.
That and regrettable haircuts.
The reason people need to understand this better than they do is because depressed people shouldn't have to only talk to other depressed people about it. I mean we can, we just shouldn't be limited to that. It's a disease that people associate with suicide and that in turn is associated with being crazy and crazy people should be avoided and left alone to do their crazy deeds. That and the fear of not wanting to be the Debbie Downer in the group. People are encouraged to hide their depression and feign happiness until the day they die, which could be very soon for some.
I for one am attempting to be more open about my depression in the hopes that others I know will as well. It's the only way to normalize it, and maybe once it's seen as "normal" people will begin to take it seriously.
Class dismissed,
Tyler
* I know we don't talk anymore, friend, but thank you for being there for me that night. I wish you could know how much that meant to me.
Well it finally happened. After 10 odd years of hopelessly fanboying over the music of Nightwish I was recently able to meet my heroes, and it was as amazing as it was terrifying. It lasted maybe about two minutes and the memory itself is almost a blur, but I distinctly remember a few things.
They are all really, really tall (except for Emppu, the guitarist).
Tuomas said "nice shirt."
I made Floor laugh by being awkward and nervous.
I told Marco that I taught myself how to sing by listening to him, and he replied "Oh, I didn't know that was possible."
And that's about it, really. Actually it was a little more than I had hoped for. Had I all the time in the world I would've gladly picked Tuomas's and Marco's brains about Stephen King's The Dark Tower series and what they thought of the ending and/or the most recent book, asked Kai how Jukka was recovering, asked Floor and Marco about vocal techniques or asked Troy to show me a magic trick, but those things are probably never meant to be.
In a weird way this feels like the end of a long journey but Nightwish is far from ending their "nightquest" and I don't plan to stop being a fan any time soon. I like a lot of different music and bands, but it was always different when it came to Nightwish. Something about their music and Tuomas's lyrics reach me in a way nothing else can. Not only that but it inspires me not only vocally, but in my writing as well, and ultimately, my humanity. Yes, listening to Nightwish's music makes me strive to be a better person, to seize the day and appreciate nature and the world and humanity in all its uniqueness.
There is a personal attachment to the band for me as well. Looking back on my life so far, at least two major turning points had coincided with an album release. The first was the fall of 2007, the beginning of my senior year of high school and the release of their album Dark Passion Play. The first half of the album was very angst-ridden compared to past releases, and unlike 2002's Century Child which dealt more with unrequited love, DDP's lyrics seem to come more from personal feelings of betrayal and circumstances outside of our control. At the same time, there was the feeling of moving on from these unfortunate happenings and to carry on, appropriate for the band as they had just fired their lead singer Tarja over irreconcilable differences and were striving forward with a new vocalist.
At this time in my life I think the early signs of depression were showing themselves, as I felt lost and unsure of where my life was heading. My closest friends in the class above me had graduated and were gone, leaving me very alone. I thought I had an interest in filmmaking but wasn't sure enough to commit solely to a film school, making college searches somehow even more difficult. On top of that, I was in love with someone who didn't love me back. So really, what did I have? I had a new Nightwish album, and somehow that was enough. Listening straight through DDP was a great therapeutic ride, as the first half of the album deals with the feelings I had and smoothly transitions away from that into a world of escapism, simultaneously allowing me to express and understand my anger and sadness while also distracting me from it. All of that in just 13 songs.
So I survived my last year of high school and continued on into college, having a pretty normal experience. Then came senior year in 2011 and a new wave of feelings and uncertainties about my life brought the depression back, even stronger than before. Stress, post-college fears and general self-hatred plagued me long into my second and final semester and I have to admit I had serious considerations of suicide. I credit two things to keeping me from going through with this: the first was a new friend I had made that summer, someone younger who looked up to me and who I didn't want to know about the worser sides of life, and the winter release of Nightwish's Imaginaerum.
This album is hands down my favorite by the band, even besides the fact that it saved my life. It is a loose concept album that deals with the power of imagination and childhood memories and how even our fantasies can remind us of what's really important in life. As an extremely imaginative person, I connected immediately with the music and to this day I still find new meanings in the lyrics. Additionally the themes of the album were relevant to my feelings at the time and for the first time it just felt like somebody understood what I was going through, and that somebody for once was there for me, even if only through the music. Unlike other bands and songs, though, Nightwish was telling me to get back up and keep going, because there is more to life than the things I felt I was missing at the time.
So that's the longer answer to why I love this band more than any other, but I usually just say, "I like the music." That's why I anxiously await any news out of the Nightwish camp, no matter how small or irrelevant. It's why I have so many Nightwish t-shirts and posters and why I bought the blu-ray of the film Imaginaerum despite the fact that as a movie it is, at best, "watchable." I love the band aside from their personal impact on me, of course, but it is their affect on me and my life that makes Nightwish so special to me. I'm not saying you have to like them or even give them a chance if you don't want to. The music's not for everyone. However, if you even attempt to badmouth them to my face I will Swayze your throat out.
The message of Nightwish is a hopeful one, a love of life, carpe diem, and carrying on through the bad times and into the better ones. It's an important message to spread in these trying times, and one that managed to reach me before it was too late. Nightwish helped me to appreciate life in all its forms, and I'm excited to see what the rest of it brings to me.
There it is. Do you feel it? Yes. A new year is coming upon us. About damn time, if you ask me. I know I'm not alone in saying 2014 has overstayed its welcome, but nobody ever really seems to explain their reasoning behind hating the latest year. In fact, isn't it every year we say how much the year sucked and how we can't wait for the next one, which, if we're following the pattern here, will also suck? That's a lot of sucking going on, and not the kind I usually prefer.
You guessed it.
Honestly though, 2014 was a giant suck cake filled with suck filling. It was a year defined by losing planes, well-liked celebrity deaths, and gender and race inequality just to add some flavor. Hell, even without personal problems that's already a bad year. But I'm not that lucky, and neither were you probably.
It certainly wasn't an easy one, what with losing a family member, a close friend being diagnosed with an illness, myself being diagnosed with depression and losing an important friendship, the losses seem to outweigh the gains.
Not that there wasn't good, too. I moved to Brooklyn and am having the time of my life. Getting acting jobs is tough but not impossible. Besides, it feels better to be rejected because you weren't right for the part rather than because of some bullshit community theatre drama. Also, you should all keep an ear open for the release date of the upcoming The Lennon Report and keep an eye out for a familiar-looking reporter in one or two scenes.
I'm not saying I'm the reporter or anything...
It's alright I guess. I mean in the past two months I've chilled with Richard Kind and David Zayas, hugged Neil Gaiman and did crew work on a show starring Kal Penn, like typical adult stuff. In all seriousness though I'm not saying all of that didn't require a lot of work. I mean, I had to wait in line for Neil Gaiman, guys, and it was cold out. Like so cold he wouldn't stop tweeting about it. Pussy.
You'd think he'd prefer the cold.
So though the rest of this year sucked eggs, I see it as a good thing I made my move near the end of it. Because now I'm relatively settled in my new home with a bit of a handle on how I want to proceed in life. So when I'm back in the city come 2015 I'll be ready to hit the ground running with Tyler's Life 2.0.
Now featuring more D&D.
So while a world of hurt hit me as well this year, there was enough good near the end of it to be able to say "fuck it" and look forward, and come this time next year we'll all be anxiously waiting for 2016 because 2015 was a load of crap. That's how we do it every year, and that's why we're still here, because no matter how bad things can get, at the end of the day we're looking forward, anxious to see what's next.
There has been a slight change in my life as of my last posting, and that change is that I now live in Brooklyn, NY.
Here.
If you don't count me moving into a dorm in Buffalo -- and why the fuck would you? -- this is also my first time living on my own in a new city. Like really living. Paying rent, not having a dining hall option, actually NEEDING a job, which I only sorta-kinda do right now. It's freelance. And it hasn't started yet. But it WILL be an income. Someday.
Alack, I digress, loyal readers. I have only been a Brooklynite for nearly two weeks, but honestly it feels like it's been longer, in the best possible way. I'm sure that has something to do with the fact I'm not living in Manhattan and that I don't have shitty roommates (give yourselves a pat on the back for not sucking, Garrett and Steph). The only drawback so far is that...well, I don't want to sound intolerant, but there's a certain type of...person...that makes up a large part of the local population that I just can't help but feel a little uncomfortable around. I'm sure you guys have figured out what kind of person I'm referring to.
In their natural state.
Brooklyn feels like home already, though, and I am very happy with my decision to move. I even feel that perhaps I'm moving too fast into this new chapter of my life. I mean, I've already accomplished the following:
Killed my first roach
Attended multiple show auditions
Possibly ruined a friendship from back home
And gave money to a subway performer
So I've hit the ground running, as it were, especially in the auditions area. I've been going to at least two a week so far, which is a lot more tiring than you'd imagine. However, it is also a lot less soul crushing than you'd imagine as well. Back home if I didn't get cast in something it was like, "Shit, what am I supposed to do for the next two months?" Here it's more, "Meh, I've got another shot tomorrow." Also, people at auditions are a lot nicer here than in community theatre, both the people auditioning and the casting directors. Go figure, huh?
"Thank you for trying."
But that's all big city business, I try and avoid Manhattan unless I have a specific destination in mind. In Brooklyn I have pretty much everything I could need within walking distance. And by that I mean there are lots of pubs and cafes, and these cafes love to play Sigur Rós and David Bowie on their radios. And by radios I mean it's probably just a Spotify playlist. That's just how they roll here, I guess.
However, all of this wonder and awe cannot come without it's drawbacks, but they are few and far between, aka "white people problems." For instance, we have noisy upstairs neighbors whose kid runs back and forth all day long. We can't control whether the heat comes on in our apartment or not, and when it does it tends to go for hours and when it's not needed. Another upstairs neighbor owns a washer and floods our kitchen sink with detergent water occasionally. Every once in a while someone will blare music from somewhere in the building. The hot water knob in the shower gets hot when it runs and gives you a Joe Pesci in "Home Alone" moment if you grab it.
I know what you're thinking: "Tyler, how can you take it?"
*Shrugs* It could be worse in like 1,000 other ways.
Oh, and there's no dishwasher.
Oh grow up.
So since those problems barely associate as problems, my only concern is with how many people still ride skateboards around here. But I've had to put up with worse.
Don't get me wrong, friends and family and cats (so friends, again) from back home, I still love you all and miss you, but this move for me is one of the best things I could've done for myself and just about the ONLY life decision I've made that I've been happy with. Now don't become strangers to me when I come back to visit so you all have my number and Facebook. If you'd like to mail me something message or text me for my address. I've already received one excellent piece of mail which included a heartwarming message and this lovely photo from my past:
I hope to be able to post a little more frequently now but when have I ever come through on that promise? So I'll post when I post and I hope you all read when you read. You're all what keeps me writing, so thank you for that.
Until the next post, loyal readers!
To the end of time,
Tyler
P.S. "Showtime" on the subway is one of my favorite times.
Hello all again! It's been a while, but then again I have a life. That life includes seeing an amazing concert over the weekend performed by Within Temptation and a fantastic opening act called Amaranthe.
Not to mention I just purchased VIP tickets for a meet-and-greet with Nightwish before their next show in New York, with Delain (also awesome) opening for them my god this is gonna be a great year!
No no no don't worry, I'm not suddenly gonna start dropping happy bombs on you all just because these cool things are happening. Have you forgotten what kind of blog you're reading? Because we're about to delve into some serious, serious shit.
Let me start with myself as an example for this topic. Yeah, that concert kicked ass, and meeting my favorite band of all time which also features my favorite singer of all time will probably be the best night of my life, but that's not gonna just make me suddenly drop all of my bitterness and cynicism and end my recurring depression (actually diagnosed this time, don't you fret). You know why? Because that's not the person my own personal world has formed me into. I'm like a golem of loneliness and neglect. However, I have a good side as well, and people tend to like that good side. More importantly though, my closest friends can tolerate and understand when my less good side shows its only-slightly-less-handsome face. So as long as I have those people around me I don't have to worry about keeping old bitter pants locked in the cellar and can let him out when I need to without judgment.
So why don't more people realize this? I'm not saying to allow your worst side to take over, I'm just saying there's a way to let it out for a breath or two while still keeping your better self in control. Repressing is probably the worst exercise anyone can practice because, to use a metaphor, you're going to have to change the garbage bag sometime. Pick up your phone and call or text a close friend and just let yourself be a sad, angry and pathetic piece of shit, just for a bit. Because the longer you hold that part of you in, the faker your outward appearance starts to appear. Cracks show, and your friends are the first to see them.
Let's take another example, a TV example. In season 4 of The Walking Dead Philip Blake (aka The Governor) had just had another one of his murderous blackouts and ended up annihilating his entire group, and the ones who survived wisely abandoned him in the middle of the night. Philip puts on a sad face and grows an even sadder beard and wanders the countryside for a while before he meets a family with a little girl who makes his heart grow ten sizes bigger. He changes his name to Brian and sets about becoming a new man. It seems to work for a while and we all thought the Governor had changed after all.
One step closer to full pirate.
Psych, his return to evil surprised no one. They join a larger group and Brian begins to murder his way to the position of leader in order to better protect his new surrogate family before organizing a strike to take the good guys' prison fortress. Brian's efforts to protect his loved ones might seem genuine in the beginning, but him rediscovering his taste for murder also reignites his buried hatred for the show's heroes, and in the end the prison attack is more about personal vengeance than to help others. This is evident when Brian witnesses the death of his surrogate daughter and utters the chilling line "Kill 'em all" before launching a full on siege of the prison. You see, Philip couldn't just become Brian, he only repressed the man that Philip was. Brian was a lie, a well-intentioned lie, but false nonetheless.
Now I'm not saying the Governor shouldn't have even tried to change, I'm saying he went about it the wrong way. He tried to ignore Philip, but like most people when they know they're being ignored, Philip continued to egg him on internally. The crazy, murderous and power-hungry man inside him was waiting to come back out, and the minute that Brian had a moment of uncertainty, Philip struck hard. With a golf club. You can't just forget the worst part of yourself, you have to acknowledge that it's there and accept that it may always be there, and only then can you control it. If Philip had approached his new friends with "Hi my name is Philip, I killed a bunch of innocent people but I wanna be good now," who knows what would've happened? For the show's sake though, I'm glad everything happened how it did because that was fucking awesome.
Another case of buried identity comes from another favorite television show, Boardwalk Empire. Nelson Van Alden (played by Michael Shannon) began the series as an agent working for the Bureau of Prohibition and a deeply religious man. By the end of season 1 he was a murderer, and at the second season's end he was on the run for said murder and shooting another agent to escape. He changes his name to George Mueller, marries his illegitimate daughter's nanny, and relocates to Cicero, NY, where to make ends meet he resorts to selling vodka, the very crime he formerly worked to stop. Through various bumbling happenstances Van Alden winds up in the employ of Al Capone himself and about as far from his former self as one can possibly get. While at times hilarious, seeing the meek and impotent clown the once stern detective had become was quite tragic. Van Alden hated every day of his new life with an antagonistic wife at home, children who simply annoyed him, and a boss who he despised and wished to shoot in the back. He suppressed his frustration and his values, though, in order to survive in his new environment. Hell, for three seasons us viewers even began referring to him as "Mueller," almost forgetting his real name. This all came to a head in a recent episode though where, when caught in the act of trying to inform on Capone and with no conceivable way out, Mueller attacks his boss and grabs him around the throat, exclaiming his birth name and swearing heavenly justice upon the crime boss before a bullet to the head silences him forever.
HBO realized there were too many "Michaels" in the cast and cleaned house.
Van Alden turned to crime in order to keep himself alive, but in the end it was his inner calling to stop crime that lead to his death. Because that's who he was, what he was good at. Frankly he made a terrible gangster, but when he revealed his real name and who he was to Capone he was back on top, however momentarily.
So there you have it. Repress those negative feelings too well and they will come exploding out of you at exactly the wrong moment. Both of those characters got shot in the head, and so will you if you don't cut that shit out. If you need an example of this done right, look no further than the character Susannah Dean in Stephen King's The Dark Tower series. Susannah started out the series with dual personalities; sweet and kind Odetta Holmes and crude and nasty Detta Walker. The character Eddie falls in love with Odetta, however, Detta comes out and nearly kills him and ruins his and Roland's entire quest to find the Tower. In a last ditch effort to stop her, Roland the gunslinger, possessing another man in another world, tricks Detta into looking through the doorway portal just as Roland is looking at an alternate version of Odetta. When Detta lays eyes upon her other self, it has an effect where the two personalities merge, the newly formed person attaining the strongest traits of both of them. The new and improved "Susannah" (donning the middle name of both personalities) is now kind and caring while also brave and vicious in battle. Sounds like a pretty great end result, doesn't it? Well that can be you if you just stop ignoring what's there inside you and find a way to work with it and not so much against it.
Even in a wheelchair she's the Hermione of the group (aka most useful).
Again, I'm not saying to let yourself be a dick, but acknowledge that there's a dick inside you (phrasing?) that needs to breathe once in a while. Let the asshole vent for a little at a time and it'll be willing to go back into hiding for a while and let you get on with your life. If you're friends and loved ones can't bear to see you like that once in a while, well, jesus, what a bunch of assholes. Get new friends. I'll be your friend. Do you like symphonic metal music?
Whoops I'm out of time. So I hope you all learned something today and hope you keep coming back for more.
Have a good 'n,
Tyler
P.S. I'll have an announcement soon enough, stay tuned.
I caught the last hour of one of my favorite films -- Cloud Atlas -- on TV the other night, and dammit if I didn't get emotional again like I do every time I watch it. There's no explaining it and I couldn't describe to you why this movie affects me in mere words. Or even song. It's just something that you feel and you know it's there, like somebody opening their arms to embrace you and telling you it's okay to let it all go.
While I have you, you should all watch The Leftovers on HBO.
One scene in particular gets to me from the film, the part near the end where Sonmi~451 is explaining to an Archivist that she envisions heaven as a door opening and her dead lover Hae-Joo walking through it, and as she narrates this the film cuts to the character Adam Ewing opening a door and seeing his lover Tilda, both of whom are Sonmi and Hae-Joo in former lives. And I just lose it.
The entire film is about people crossing each others' paths in one way or another over and over again through different lives and in different worlds. It paints a rather beautiful picture that everybody we come across in our life is bound to us and us to them for eternity, and at the end of each life we will meet again in the next. That girl you were too nervous to ask out? You may be married to her in another life. That friend who you've lost touch with? The two of you will battle aliens together side by side in a future lifetime. You know, probably.
It's neat to imagine that there's more to it after we die, like how some people believe in a heaven or a torturous afterlife of haunting houses. I like the idea that the end of every life starts a "do-over" in a later time. After all I think we can all agree that one lifetime just doesn't seem like enough to tap the full potential we all have inside of us, even though they somehow expect us to do that in four years of college.
Even if there isn't an eternity of reincarnation like that, it's still a comfort to know that our lives mean something in the grand scheme of things. I like watching movies and reading books where every single character has a purpose, and by "purpose" I don't mean comic relief or the fat one. A great writer, for film or for books, brings in other characters as they are needed to fulfill something the main character can't do alone. Once that something is complete, the character can either walk away or get horribly and unfairly killed (the latter seems the most popular these days). Still, that person did something before disappearing forever. No one else could come in and do that instead, it was a purpose designed solely for him or her. That's what I like to believe we are to this world.
Agent Smith gets it.
Because author David Mitchell isn't a prophet from the heavens as far as I know, I'm open to the idea that the Cloud Atlas thing isn't the end all explanation of the mysteries of life. Still, we as a species like to believe that our lives are being carefully planned by someone far more patient and with much better decision-making skills up above. Every bad thing that happens to us is a lesson, every wound makes us tougher, every Andrea means we won't get another Andrea.
I'm glad you're dead. We're all glad you're dead.
However, with hope also comes the possibility of no hope. Maybe this is it, these 80 or so years, and that's only if you don't get bumped off between then and now. What if there is no purpose or plan for us? That job interview you blew? You might blow the next one and the next one too without getting any better at it. That relationship that didn't work out? What if it's just the first of many more to come? Every failure could just be another failure with nothing to take away from it. When a tree falls in a forest without anyone to hear it, it makes a sound whether you're there or not. Maybe shit just happens and doesn't stop to think about what will happen next.
Of course that's all bullshit because we live in a world where this happened:
It's like a Doctor Who/Walking Dead/musical theatre fan fiction.
Someone had that idea, and someone else agreed to pay that person to film it, and now it's ours. So no matter what life throws at you or how big your eyes get for that bottle of sleeping pills, take solace in knowing that the entertainment industry will be there when God isn't.
Which brings me back to the beginning...somehow. This worked out nicely for this blog post. Gives it a nice circular fee--anyways, that brings us back to Cloud Atlas. One of the many, MANY themes of that movie is that our lives are not just for ourselves and that we affect others and they affect us, and this cycle does not stop at death but continues on into another life. I mean, Ben Whishaw's character (well, one of his characters) kills himself with the comfort that he will meet his lover again in "another world...a better world." That or he was quoting Morrissey.
If you've watched Lost, remember that scene in season 4 where we first see Daniel Faraday and he's watching that news report about Oceanic 815 and he starts crying? When his caretaker asks what's wrong, he replies, "I don't know." Daniel really doesn't know at the time but in his heart he's still sad. He just can't remember why because his mind has been fucked up by his many time travel experiments. Sometimes you hear a song that just gets to you even though the lyrics may not be relative, but for some reason it means something to you. Sometimes we meet people we either feel like we've met before or feel already connected to. Some people abuse that belief by using it as a pickup line but nevertheless it is a feeling I know you've had too.
That's Cloud Atlas in a nutshell, that whole feeling I just described. It's like deja vu but stronger. I think the reason I feel such a connection to this movie is because it gives me comfort that maybe that deja vu is more than just a feeling. If this means that I'll get to see the people I love again in future lifetimes and meet them all over again, that's quite a comforting feeling.
See you then,
Tyler
P.S. Who wants to see Guardians of the Galaxy with me?
In movies, television, and literature, there are great and complex villains who are every bit as interesting and sympathetic as the story's hero. Then there are the ones who are just plain shitty people, and when they get their comeuppance it gets a big "HELL YEAH" from we, the people.
Here are my five favorite instances of this:
5. Mrs. Carmody (The Mist)
The Mist, based on Stephen King's long-short story, concerns a group of townspeople trapped in a grocery store when a mysterious mist envelopes the town and brings deadly, flesh-eating monsters with it. One of these people is Mrs. Carmody, a heavily religious woman who immediately sees the catastrophe as the beginning of the apocalypse and that only the righteous will be saved while the evil are devoured by giant squids and spiders. You know, just like the bible says. Mrs. Carmody is instantly insufferable as she spouts religious warnings and begins to form an ever-growing group of followers who see her as a savior and bend to her will, no matter how crazy. Just how crazy, you ask? BATSHIT. Every time someone is injured doing something brave and heroic, she claims it's god's will. When a soldier explains the possible origin of the mist, she has her followers beat him and stab him and throw him outside to the monsters as a sacrifice. Her next sacrifice she decides will be the hero's 8 year-old son and when she sics her mob on them she is suddenly shot in the torso. Then a second time, in the MOTHERFUCKING HEAD!!! By none other than Dobbie the house elf!
The face of heroism.
People in the theater cheered and applauded when Carmody bit it and her killer suddenly became the audience's favorite character. At least, until he eats it too within the next two minutes. But TAKE THAT YOU OLD BAG!!! HELL YEAH!!! 4. Zachariah (Supernatural)
Seasons 4-5 of Supernatural involved the Winchester brothers trying to do more important stuff while the angels of heaven were just being dicks, and none of them was a bigger dick than Zachariah. I mean, just look at him. Look at that face. First he allows Lucifer to be set free so that the apocalypse can actually happen just so heaven can say they stopped the devil. Then he tortures Sam to get Dean to let the angel Michael possess his body - and by torture I mean he makes Sam's lungs disappear and gives Dean cancer. When the brothers are killed (temporarily) and sent to heaven, the asshole chases them around there too, not even letting them rest in peace. Every time the brothers tried to get something done Zachariah's dick face popped up to taunt them and make sarcastic remarks. Then finally in one episode, THIS HAPPENED:
FUCK YEAH!!!
Dean stabbed an angel blade RIGHT THROUGH HIS MOTHERFUCKING HEAD!!! Aw yeah dawg! Right up through the mouth! We had to put up with 2 WHOLE SEASONS of this douchebag! Granted, Zachariah was, in all senses, a neat villain. But DAMN did it feel good to see him go! HELL YEAH!!! 3. Karl Tanner (Game of Thrones)
Now I know there was a certain other death in Season 4 we all enjoyed, but as far as overall satisfaction with said demise this one just moreso met my needs.
The most recent of these deaths - occurring just this past Sunday - was that of Karl Tanner, the self-titled "Legend of Gin Alley." We first saw him in Season 3 when he led the Night's Watch into mutiny by murdering their host Craster and inciting a brawl that left their Lord Commander dead. Karl stepped into the leader role of his fellow mutineers and took over Craster's Keep, claiming the food, shelter, and the dead man's many wives/daughters (yes, they were the same. I know, ew) for his and his men's own vile purposes. Yeah, THAT. Karl was a braggart and an awful excuse for a human being. The first time we see him in Season 4 he is drinking wine out of the skull of his former commander, who we all liked. Then he captures other people we like and implies he's going to rape poor Meera, and he comes close to doing so when Jon Snow shows up with the not-so-mutinous members of the Night's Watch to take these assholes out. Karl proves he wasn't full of shit regarding his fighting abilities when Jon takes him on alone and is about to be done in by the evil skull-drinker when STAB! One of the women Karl had been abusing sinks a knife into the rapist's back. Karl turns on her to do something knife-related when suddenly:
AW SHEEIT!!!
Jon puts his sword Longclaw RIGHT through the back of Karl's head and OUT his GODDAMN MOUTH!!! Take that, Karl! HELL YEAH!!!
2. Cheese Wagstaff (The Wire)
Yeah, Method Man played Cheese. It's weird but it was good, too. So Cheese was never a tolerable guy in the least bit since his introduction in Season 2, but it was always fun to watch him fuck up. Of course, he was Proposition Joe's nephew so he was essentially untouchable by other dealers on the street. If not for that, Cheese would've gotten got a long time ago. Despite his uncle protecting him for all those years, Cheese didn't hesitate when given the opportunity to betray his uncle to Marlo Stanfield and move up in the drug dealing hierarchy. Joe is executed and Cheese gets promoted, and he doesn't feel a smidge of regret doing it. I mean, jesus man, Joe was FAMILY! That's just cold! Then in the show's series finale, an episode where so much bad happens, something wonderful takes place near the end. In a meeting about finding a new distributor, Cheese continues with his dickish ways by threatening one of his associates with a gun to the face when the man merely mentions his late uncle. Cheese goes off into a rant against that "back in the day shit" and makes a possible Goonies reference about how it's their time now when he is interrupted by a FUCKING BULLET TO THE HEAD!!! AW DAYUM!!!
That was Slim Charles who took the dick out. Charles has always just sort of been there on the sidelines, doing this and that for his superiors, and he always knew when to speak up and when to keep his mouth shut. When his boss Joe was killed, he knew it was Cheese, but still he kept quiet in order to survive. However, as that clip shows, every man has his breaking point. God bless you, Slim Charles. HELL YEAH!!! 1. The Yellow Bastard (Sin City)
Now my most satisfying end to a disgusting villain is one I'm sure few would argue against, as it was also one of the most talked about points in the movie. Long story short: handsome pedophile gets blown apart by Bruce Willis and is assumed dead. 8 years later he comes back after some weird-ass surgery that left him looking like a cross between a Simpsons and a Peanuts character to get revenge on Bruce Willis and the young girl he tried to rape back then, who now looks like Jessica Alba. Do I really need to say more than the words "pedophile" and "rapist" to make you hate this guy? Didn't think so. After some car chases and disgustingly stellar acting from Nick Stahl, the final showdown between Bruce Willis (did his character even have a name?) and the Yellow Bastard ends in perhaps the most satisfactory way possible: Bruce Willis pulls the Bastard's junk off with his BARE HANDS and then punches his head into mush. It's all pretty awesome. So HELL YEAH!!!
