Status #141856

A chapter from my upcoming blog Soma Coma: REAL MONSTERS "Monsters exist, [...]

Las Vegas, Nevada
via The Full Circle Project
A chapter from my upcoming blog Soma Coma:


"Monsters exist, but they are too few in number to be truly dangerous. More dangerous are the common men, the functionaries ready to believe and to act without asking questions."

― Primo Levi *

* Primo Levi…

The corroded machete cleaved the man's frontal lobe. Half the bastard's skull detached with his exploding brain. His face dripped into a heap around his chin.

The platitudinous Jerry Cheevers goalie mask emerged from the thicket. Even though the fucker had been vigorously slaughtered numerous times prior, Jason Voorhees was back, and slaying anything with a pulse.

Eviscerated bowels ― including their contents ― caked beneath his rotting, urine-hued fingernails. As the slasher exterminated more souls than Fat Man did in the flash of a fuse, his heart rate never rose above what sleeping citizens would display, while in REM.

Locks of lacerated intestines slung over both broken shoulders, he plowed through the populace like terrorist U.S. forces did downtown Baghdad.

An audience chasing the adrenaline dragon, and rollin' on high fructose corn syrup, watched intently from the safety of their Syufy seats. The onlookers were comfortable at this distance. They felt secure, knowing the lurid carnage was:

A) in two dimensions, while they themselves existed in three, and

as gory as it appeared, nonetheless fake.

You're a kid, and of course you thrill at the prospect of being terrified by monsters on screen. You're observing such as a third party, knowing what you're experiencing will end.

On the drive home, your dad commandeers a diatribe about "real monsters" walking among us.

The concept seems foreign. If such is the case, how come you've never laid eyes on an H.R. Giger, metallic mammoth binging on the bully next door?

Dad seems pretty fuckin' certain about this, and you trust his proclamations, because you've been brainwashed to believe in "authority." That said, could he have somehow gotten this one wrong? Is it possible all he asserted prior hit the bullseye, but this dart flew astray ― not even headed toward the board?

Could dad have been more full of shit than Dick Cheney on an Imodium overdose? Is it possible everything he predicated was as wrong as the government's version of 9/11?

Could you have failed to realize this, until now? Could you simply have been blinded by the fact this was "dad"?

No, that wasn't the case. Dad had been right about a number of things, hadn't he?

Reviewing what you'd assumed was a laundry list, you couldn't recall a salient subject dad had pontificated about that proved true. That wasn't to say he'd been wrong. You just couldn't remember him being right.

A blazing arrow piercing the murky muck of your myopic mental musings, dad spun in the driver's seat of the green Mazda ― replete with rotary engine.

"People will tell ya' you're crazy, Hugh. They tell your dad that all the time!" Stopped at the traffic light, he was raging in third person. He did that, when he was ranting. "You just stick to your guns, kiddo! Once you're able to see those demons, no matter what anybody says, you just stick to your guns!"

" 'Demons?!' " you quietly contemplated, gazing out the backseat window at a crowd milling in front of a strip mall. You'd never seen any demons, but you thought it would be cool if you did! It would be a real adventure, like in the movies, or on afternoon Creature Features.

"I know you can't see 'em yet, little man, but real life monsters are out there, and out there all the time."

"But these weren't the kind of monsters that had tentacles and rotting skin, the kind a seven-year-old might be able to wrap his mind around — they were monsters with human faces, in crisp uniforms, marching in lockstep, so banal you don't recognize them for what they are until it's too late."

― Ransom Riggs **

** Ransom Riggs…

"Dad's gotta be out of his mind," you concluded. There was no other explanation. As badly as you wanted to see moving mutants, they didn't appear to be there.

And then, one day, you saw one.

Fucker looked just like you, me, or anyone else, yet it was far more hideous than Alien, the Predator, and high definition photos of Jeff Sessions performing auto-analingus. This monster wore a suit five sizes too small, outlining his underdeveloped testicles at the podium where reporters snapped his photo. It was here he hollered a few words that resulted in millions annihilated with mortars, missiles and depleted uranium.

Without raisin' a blade, this dude laid to waste two and a half million! By comparison, Voorhees wasn't even minor league! What'd he do? A hundred and fifty? Tops?!

Remember John Carpenter's The Thing? The monster in that 1982 flick was creepier than awakening beside Oprah, as she sported a strap-on rolling pin ― a trail of blood from the handle to your prolapsed anus. Carpenter's corpuscle-crunching creature was able to assimilate an infinite number of entities, duplicating whomever it devoured.

Not only did this demon replicate physical form, it also assumed the characteristics, memory and personality of those it ingested.

Hence, it was able to perfectly hide among the populace.

Although the beast morphed into hideously gruesome combinations of inside-out intestines, the terror was paramount when the demon was nowhere to be seen. It was then neither the characters, nor the viewers, knew which person was The Thing, and which was human. Fear of one's fellow Homo sapien was palpable, and the real horror came in not knowing who was the demon. ***

*** The Thing 1982 trailer…

There are monsters, and then there are monsters disguised as you, me or any person on the street. The latter is far more lethal, since you're never certain who your enemy is, until it's too late. Hence, it's that much more difficult to determine who will be attacking, and when.

With a 10 foot tall row of walking incisors, you know who to defend yourself against. When your sister or your best friend sinks razor-sharp fangs into your eyeball, you've almost no way of knowing the onslaught is coming.

Your neighbor mows your lawn for you, when you've broken your leg. A week later, he signs up for the Marines. A month subsequent, he mortars to death innocent families in downtown Baghdad, because "authorities" told him to do so.

Spending her Golden Years in assisted living, she's sweet as finally determining whether or not Michelle Obama is a "grower," or a "shower." Because she's been skull scrubbed by "authority," she continues voting, and thereby keeping this kakistocracy in place, which is destroying us all.

He's your "loving" family physician, prescribing lethal street drugs — euphemized with innocuous-sounding names — solely because he's become a money-hungry cunt.

Thus, the most effective monster ― in the context of killing ― is the one disguised as you.

Consider the similarities between The Thing, and our current situation.

Characters in the aforementioned flick were trapped in Antarctica — an isolated region. Our species is trapped on Earth ― an island, from which we've currently no escape.

The monsters in The Thing took human form, hiding amidst a crew stationed in the arctic. The monsters among us disguise themselves as "authority" ― doctors, "leaders," religious guides, teachers, etc.

The characters in The Thing were constantly fearful of each other, perpetually suspecting one another of being blood-parched demons. We perennially believe others mean us harm.

In the 1938 novella Who Goes There? ― upon which the '82 version of The Thing is based ― a scientific expedition finds an alien spacecraft embedded in glacial ice. It's determined the vessel is millions of years old.

Adjacent the craft is a creature ― also frozen. The crew of the patrol deduce this organism was the pilot of the ship in question.

Thanks to a desire for money ― in a quest to receive further grants to fund their research ― the men decide to thaw the being out. It's their belief they've discovered the find of the millennia. ****

**** Who Goes There?…

Hence, once again, the hunger for cash is the catalyst for unleashing a nightmare upon humanity.

In Who Goes There?, as well as its 1982 incarnation, the crew devise a test to determine who is human, and who is the alien. They draw a sample of everyone's blood, storing each in individual petri dishes ― which they've marked with the correlating person's name.

Knowing the beast's catalyst is survival, they deduce it ― or any portion of it ― will react combatively, if threatened. Hence, using a blowtorch, they heat up a metal wire, and dip it into each receptacle. Whichever dish contains cells of the creature should defend itself; i.e. attack whatever is assaulting it.

In the 2011 prequel to The Thing ― also entitled The Thing ― an entirely separate crew of explorers in Antarctica also encounter the monster. They, too, devise a modality for determining who's human, and who's the beast.

Knowing this more-advanced entity is only capable of duplicating animate cells, the laymen and scientists gather in a room, checking to see who has metal fillings, and who doesn't. Thus, those without fillings in their teeth become suspect. Obviously, this was not a conclusive acid test, as people can possess porcelain fillings, or no fillings, at all. *****

***** The Thing 2011 trailer…

Such stated, wouldn't it be salubrious, if we had methodology, via which we could determine who was an evil cunt, and who was good? Who had no conscience, and who did? Like a Voight-Kampff test in Blade Runner, to conclude who was human, and who was replicant.

So much of the population simply assume people are inherently evil, and thus "authority" is necessary. Of course, "authority" has orchestrated this. It's what they've always wanted. If people constantly murder, rape and steal, "authority" can justify its existence. Hence, government has a vested interest in keeping the chaos.

"Y'all are a bunch of bloodthirsty savages, and without us, you'd kill one another. Luckily for you, we [government] are here to help."

If everything was quixotic — amicable and peaceful — the populace would quickly ask: "What do we need government for?" Shortly, thereafter, bureaucracy would be eradicated, and that's obviously what those in hegemony don't want.

If you could just employ some sort of trial, to show the public the evil lies in those they refer to as their "leaders," it would be helpful, wouldn't it?

Well, perhaps this test already exists. Perhaps we just aren't gazing critically enough at the tools we've been provided.

Again, one doesn't have to look closely to realize all presidents have existed lavishly, while the preponderance of the population strains solely to stave off extermination.

I'd say the fact the U.S. government has nuked us on over 1,000 occasions is pretty fuckin' telling, as well!

Since none of us have ever seen a monetarily poor politician, that might be a clue. Do you think Barack Obama has holes in his socks, can't afford health care, non-GMO food, or worries about paying rent?

Politicians order wars they never fight in.

Moreover, they're currently "waging a war on terror." And what reaction does war cause? Well, that would be terror!

Say No to Drugs, but addict everybody to Effexor, Invega Trinza and Zyprexa!

"Authority" constantly demands we keep kids off narcotics, and then they prescribe these little fuckers Paxil, Prozac, Ritalin, and an endless supply of psychotropic drugs. All of which equate to killing a person.

"I'm freaked out about drugs, in the sense that we still can't take them. Except for these fuckin' evil ones that they give to children. […]

We can't smoke pot, but we should give children Ritalin. This is a fuckin' crime against humanity of the highest fuckin' degree, giving children pharmaceutical psychotropic fuckin' drugs.

Are you fucking kidding me?! Are you fucking kidding me?!? […]

They haven't got diseases; nothing fuckin' wrong with 'em. Leave 'em alone. […]

You're fuckin' full of shit; givin' kids pharmaceutical, psychotropic drugs. Are you fuckin' insane?!?

And if anyone suggests you give your children these fuckin' drugs — a social worker, a cop, a teacher; some kind of fuck-up. Never! […] What you do is you turn to them, you go, 'Fuck off, you cunt!' "

― Steve Hughes ***

*** Steve Hughes…

We obviously have modalities for determining who the "big" monsters are, but how 'bout those "little" ones attempting to emulate their parents?

Y'know? Those teachers brainwashing your kids 9/11 happened the way government textbooks promulgate? Pedagogues indoctrinating your children into believing those nuclear "tests" perpetrated upon them were done for their own benefit. Professors molding your little one into a debt slave who will be used and exterminated, imprisoned their entire time on the planet?

That's where educating yourself comes in. That's where taking the time to learn what's real — rising from the dung heap of ignorance, and obtaining profundity — becomes imperative.

Rewrite your hard drive. Replace that malware "authority" has implanted in your brain, with the truth. It's only then will you be able to view each and every monster around you. It's only then your eyes will be wide open, and you can see the demons for who they are.

— Hugh Mungus
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