Young, Pretty and Gay: Ellen Page Came Out, But Why Does It Matter?

On the thought of beginning a new article for The Pessimist Chronicles, I have recently discovered why the idea for a new article hasn't really grabbed me for such a long time. Our fan base continues to grow, out hit counter still climes, but we haven't published anything new for over one year. Yes, dear readers, you read that correctly: our last article was a special seasonal offering by the unique wordsmith that is Shaun Beale, published, very aptly, on the morning of December 25th, 2012. After that, we ran into difficulties. We had dissertations to write, and a very short time left to do it in. After that came the celebrations - we had finally completed the biggest single piece of work any of us had ever done, after all, and the last thing any of us wanted to do was continue sitting at the computer writing up new material for publication. Then came the exams. So, as time wore on, The Pessimist Chronicles, that new, vibrant, side-splitting enterprise we had begun together so long ago, lay dormant. Like an old friend, the longer we left it, the harder it became to pick up the phone.

 

I had several ideas for a new article over the past year, but none of them came to fruition. Why, I eventually began to wonder, couldn't I write something meaningful? The jokes were there (dare I say, I often had down on paper some of the greatest jokes I had ever come up with); the time was at hand; I had managed to replace my busted laptop battery (Shaun and I have a very fond memory of my laptop's emergency warning siren blaring out in the quiet yet widely populated surroundings of the University of Winchester's multimedia centre). I had no excuse for not getting down to it. Soon, it struck me. The reason I couldn't write anything for The Pessimist Chronicles, that online magazine I begun with some of the best friends I had ever had, was very simple: it was because it belonged to a bygone age. I don't have those immediate connections anymore. Discussions late into the night with the gang can't just occur spontaneously. I can't sit up demolishing a pizza with them at three in the morning anymore. Essentially, if I were to write for the magazine again, would it be the same? Would I feel more remote this time around, without the knowledge that within half an hour of posting this I could be face to face with the one of the guys laughing about the horrendous war between nations my comments may have sparked off. In other words, would it not just make me realise how far apart we really are now?

 

Today, however, I felt the overwhelming need to break my silence. Ellen Page, star of X-Men: The Last Stand (2006), Juno (2007), Inception (2010) and others including the upcoming X-Men: Days of Future Past, and the top candidate on that shortlist of remarkably attractive young celebrities whom I was set to propose to should all realistic romantic ambitions finally become totally and irretrievably unrealisable, was suddenly off the list, allowing Sarah Bolger, Jenna Coleman, Pixie Lott and Count von Count to each rise up a rank in my affections, and also allowing the now-vacant fifth space to be occupied by a new candidate (I am currently undecided whether to allocate it to Tamla Kari or Angela Merkel). Why was she suddenly out of the running. Because, as all my readers will no doubt by now be aware, on Friday 14th February 2014, Ellen Page outed herself as gay.

Why, therefore, have I felt obliged to write this article? Why does an actress announcing that she is a lesbian even matter? Countless reports have surfaced over the past 24 hours, each simply repeating the same quotes and comments as the last. Surely, then, The Pessimist Chronicles getting involved in the discussion won't add anything new. I would like to take the opportunity to say that, if you thought that, or if you think it now that I have suggested it, you are very, very wrong.

 

Because Ellen Page being gay is not news. Someone's sexuality, in this enlightened age, should not be particularly noteworthy. What makes her coming out so significant, however, is the manner in which she did it, publicly, suddenly, and in a way which didn't successfully hide the nervous tremor in her voice as she did it. Coming just weeks after David Silvester's absurd comments upon gay marriage and God's ensuing wrath, the move was filled with courage, especially coming in the context of a world where there are still extreme conservative puritans all-too prepared to shoot her down.

 

The following comments have shown widespread support for Page's act. Shannon Woodward tweeted her to say 'I have never been more proud of a human than I am of @EllenPage right now'; Kristen Bell followed a similar track saying 'Rivited [sic] by @EllenPage's fabulous speech [...] She shines. Happy Valentines day to ALL.' Even our old enemies the Daily Mail managed to hold back their right wing credentials, making not a single disparaging remark in their coverage of the story.

 

Yet what brings me tonight to write this article is not the positive feedback Page has received. It is not inspired by the inspirational nature of her revelation. It is, in fact, quite the opposite which brings me here tonight. It is those who now see this as an opportunity to come up with disparaging remarks.

 

Facebook today, I have seen, is littered with the standard comments regarding picturing Ellen in various exclusively lesbian sex practices and those mourning the shattering of their hopes of marrying her in the future. These posts are fine - I have used the latter approach near the start of this article - and they are, for the most part, results of genuine humour, not malicious finger pointing and name calling. Yet it shocked me to see that in 2014 there are still those who would see her as anything other than an ordinary human being.

 

Be they internet trolls or genuinely opinionated people, it was frankly very disturbing to witness hordes of commenters arguing that Ellen was 'abnormal', 'mentally ill', a social outcast, suffering from some sort of disease, lying to make herself seem 'cooler', and, in one particularly disturbing comment I pray she never reads, that 'if there was ever a baby that should have been aborted, forget hitla [yes, he said "hitla"], its elen [yes, he said "elen"] page'.

 

And these weren't the only disgusting messages I found. There were a huge number citing the Bible, informing everyone that 'God hates fags', one man who wrote 'good job Ellen, now you're going to hell' and one woman who declared 'The Bible is not open to interpretation, and anyone who argues it is is trying to hide their own depravity. God tells us that homosexuals will be excluded from Heaven, that they are the most unnatural people on earth, and that they will burn for eternity for their sins, that isn't homophobia, that is clearly documented FACT.'

 

I could argue about the fallacy which surrounds religion. I could take the so often travelled path which mocks theists and treats them as members of some kind of mentally subnormal cult. Or I could even highlight the very well-known facts that the Bible is not a reliable source - that its messages on homosexuality are ambiguous and utterly unclear; that it has changed greatly over time, with added, altered and obfuscated passages which mean it now bears almost no resemblance to what it did a millennia ago; and that, even if we acknowledge the possible existence of an all-powerful deity, the Bible was written not by God or Jesus but by human men, who would likely have stamped their own personal and societal prejudices upon the text.

 

But I will not be taking that approach.

 

Why?

 

Because blaming these idiots' prejudices upon their religion is just as bad as their using religion to excuse their views. We cannot ever hope for an all-loving, all-accepting world while excluding those who follow religion from it. I am currently conducting research into religion for my current research project, and doing so has firmly made me believe that religion can be a positive thing. Religion cannot be blamed for the perpetuation of these views, but in the wrong circumstances it can certainly be an influence.

 

I do not write this from an anti-religion viewpoint. I do not write it from a self-righteous viewpoint. I do not even write this from the viewpoint of someone who is completely free of prejudice. Whether we like to admit it or not, we all have our little prejudices. But this matter is more significant than those prejudices. What Ellen Page did yesterday was brave, and it was noble. I asked at the start of this article why her coming out made such big news, and I think the reason is clear. It was because it was so brave - the girl was so obviously nervous during the duration of her speech, and there are still so many judgmental people in the world, that she would be perfectly forgiven for thinking that the move could have completely backfired on her. Yet I firmly believe that her actions will benefit many likeminded young people, struggling to come to terms with their own sexual identity. Why? Ellen's revelation was so different from those of other gay celebrities. She does not conform to the stereotypes associated with alternative sexualities. She isn't a 'butch' lesbian, a 'man hating' lesbian, an 'attention seeking' homosexual. Her speech shows these labels are non-uniform and largely false. There was no display of exhibitionism here, and she came across as a completely ordinary young woman. Hopefully this will show other young people that they do not have to fit into certain moulds in society and can be who they really are. If you aren't harming anyone, who can judge you for being yourself?

 

Other ignorant comments abound on Facebook, Twitter, new pages and other forums. Some view Ellen Page as simply trying to draw attention to herself, while others view homosexuality as a modern 'fad', completely ignoring the well-known homosexuality of Christopher Marlowe and the oft-conjectured bisexuality of William Shakespeare, both born 450 years ago in 1564, and you just have to examine the art and literature of the classical world to see homosexuality is certainly anything but 'modern' or a 'fad'. At the same time, we see those who think what she did was not brave. I am telling everyone now that it was. In front of so many people, knowing the world would see it, understanding that there was no going back once the confession was on camera, and in a world where such ignorant people could make such ignorant comments as have already been showcased here, there was nothing simple about her act. She showed true courage, and that is more important than any objections a few judgmental conservatives ad selective Bible interpreters can pose.

 

I am an atheist. I suppose that is me 'coming out' in a way. Religion is one personal discussion I attempt to avoid. Publicly, I often announce myself as an agnostic. My objection to the idea of an omnipotent, omniscient deity is not so much an unwillingness to believe, but an inability to believe. I cannot comprehend such a thing. I cannot see such a being existing in a world with so much pain and heartbreak. The plight of the homosexual community is one of the things I find most distasteful about the idea. I could not follow a God who would supposedly condemn anyone for loving someone. But I do not have anything against those who do believe in God, Jehovah, or whoever. The fact is, faith is a personal thing. But those who use their religion as an excuse to promote malicious abuse to others is frankly sickening. They don't just present themselves as ignorant, but give the wider religious community a bad name. The same goes for those who don't hide behind the concept of religion, and who simply promote their views as a fact all should understand. The world is not made up of right and wrong, natural and unnatural, real and fake. The world is made up primarily of love and understanding, and intolerance and hatred. People are scared to be themselves because of the latter, and I find it incomprehensible how the latter can have such a lasting impact upon the pursuit of the former.

Don't use the Bible to justify your prejudices. Don't pretend your prejudices are sensible or just. Don't act as though your prejudices are society's prejudices. They are not. They are your prejudices, perpetuated by you and others like you.

 

I asked why Ellen Page's coming out matters. I hope I have made my case. It could be argued that Ellen Page's coming out is a significant moment for so many areas of society. I see no reason to disagree.

 

Ellen: we salute you.

 

William Green.

 

Those who wish to relive the moment discussed in this article may do so below.



The Pessimist's Guide to Modern Living - Part 9: The Era the Music Died

And I was like

Baby baby baby oh,

Like baby baby baby no,

Like baby baby baby oh.

Thought you'd always be mine.

Mine.

Thus go some of the worst lyrics in the history of music, I feel it would be agreed universally; yet, inexplicably, the single in which these lyrics serve as a chorus successfully reached #3 on the UK Singles Chart and, even more surprisingly, #2 on the UK R&B Chart. I'm not sure which of these little slices of knowledge angers me most: the fact that something so poorly written, with such repetitive 'beats' laid down by a synthesiser in the background, actually managed to succeed commercially and brought in a boatload of money for this whiney little talentless nobody, or the fact that it has been classed as R&B music, a genre with which I have often been much enamoured in the past.

R&B (or, as it should correctly be styled, R 'n' B, because its so cool it doesn't even need a full-length connective), of course stands for 'rhythm and blues'. It is a popular genre of African-American music which rose to fame in the 1940s, featuring a beautiful blend of blues, jazz and soul. Throughout the mid-twentieth century, it was one of the most well-respected and widely followed genres of music available, and is still one of the primary associations with the period writer F. Scott Fitzgerald terms 'the Jazz Age'. But what is perhaps most beautiful about it was the way it broke down barriers of race and nationality. During a period of history rife with hatred and discrimination, R'n'B can easily be described as the first example of a genre shared between black and white alike. Synonymous with such legends as Little Richard, Chuck Berry and Ray Charles, the genre was soon picked up by several contemportary white acts such as Free, and was even heavily-featured on the early Led Zeppelin records.

Of course, it is a tragic fact that whenever someone mentioned R'n'B nowadays, it is a rare thing that anyone will think of this kind of music, and the few who do believe it stands for rhythm and blues are sadly thinking of a completely different genre; for, what was once rhythm and blues, is now, tragically, yet another abomination of the terrible decade that was the 1980s: so-called 'Contemporary R&B', the 'contemporary' being there, of course, because that 'other' style is just too old and shocking for modern audiences to understand.

Yet the use of the phrase 'R&B' is completely erroneous in this case: where the term used to mean an African-American jazz/soul/blues fusion genre, it now refers to a style (I can't even bring myself to say 'of music') not just laced with pop, funk, disco and hip hop, but positively dripping with its influence.

And it is with that terrible change of style that songwriting like that outlined at the beginning of this article comes into being.

I have often had it said to me that I just don't understand modern music; or, if I do, I'm just an old person trapped inside a young person's body who can't accept that musical styles change. I have even had my personal tastes in music called 'boring', 'old' (which, I assume, is somehow naturally synonymous with 'boring') and just plain old 'bad'.

So I suppose this edition of The Pessimist's Guide to Modern Living comes principally as a retaliation to those few who throughout the last few years have expressed a widespread rigidity and fixedness regarding what is 'good' and what is 'bad' - and yet, along the way, a few very good points will undoubtedly be raised.

As a longstanding believer that there is no such thing as 'good' and 'bad' and that everything realating to the arts is a matter of opinion, I usually find people agreeing with me as to this sentiment; and yet, when it comes to music, all these individuals choose to forsake these beliefs. In fact, I have even had one girl say to me 'I know its onl a matter of opinion, but old music is just so... bad.'

Remember that word: 'bad'. Remember, also, that this relates to old music in particular.

With that sentiment fresh in your minds, I shall rapidly move on to my heavy criticism of the quality of modern music, through a few short comparisons, beginning, of course, with what is arguably the most important part of all music - songwriting. The quote which opened this article is, of course, from the notorious hit single (oh, how my fingers burned when I typed that phrase) 'Baby' by Justin Bieber, which is featured on his hit album (oh, the pain) My World 2.0 (2010). Much criticism has already been targeted at young Master J. Bieber regarding the repetitiveness of the song, the annoying 'oh my God I'm such a deep person because I can sing a song about love at such a young age' nature of the music video and the general tiresome fuzzyness of it all (or, rather, the attempted fuzzyness, because let's face it, even a jumper stops being fuzzy if you vomit all over it). It would, therefore, be very easy for me to criticise Bieber entirely, but that has been done so many times before, it has become an approach about as sickening as Bieber managed to make the very mention of the word 'baby'.

Congratulations, Mr. Birkmyre, you now have a beautiful baby boy.

A... 'baby', you say?

AAAARRRGGGHHHHH!!!!

But it would be unfair of me to attack Bieber alone. After all, it takes two to tango and, in the same way, it takes sometimes two to write a song (or, in the case of the talentless young Bieber, five. That's right: he needed four people to help him write that. For the shared blame, therefore, I have to direct my angst primarily to the larger franction of the workforce: so, Christopher Stewart, Terius Nash, Christopher Bridges and Christina Milian... what were you playing at? Don't you remember the days when songwriting actually took some time? It's hard to imagine what these five demons felt after so many hours of work only being able to come up with a chorus which effectively re-uses the word 'baby' every second syllable and uses up their entire 'like' quota for the fiscal year in one go. Pride? Sadness? I hope fear.

I despair, as I'm sure you must too, when you compare the greatest hit singles of the past century with this drivel. For example, Queen's 'Who Wants to Live Forever', from their 1986 album A Kind of Magic (and written solely by Brian May, it should be noted) begins with the following beautiful, philosophical lines:

There's no time for us.

There's no place for us.

What is this thing that builds our dreams,

Yet slips away from us?

And when music is filled up with lines like that, who needs the repetitive hits of today? Yes, it should be admitted, this song's chorus is very simplistic, but at least its short - we're not confronted with these lines being repeated over and over again for anything longer than fifteen seconds or so.

And that isn't all that's great about the past. It would take me forever to list all the amazing lyrics of yesteryear and all the faecal matter of today, but there are still a few examples which should be attented to, such as:

Guess who just got back today?

Them wild-eyed boys that had been away.

Haven't changed, haven't much to say,

But man, I still think them cats are crazy.

They were asking if you were around,

How you was, where you could be found.

Told them you were living downtown,

Driving all the old men crazy.

Not as philosophical as the previous example, its true; but the point here is that the lyrics are supposed to be fun, and despite the bad grammer in Phil Lynott's language use, it works, and is still one of the most popular rock anthems in the history of music. The song is of course 'The Boys Are Back in Town' by Thin Lizzy (from the 1976 album Jailbreak).

Or how about this?:

I've been alone with you inside my mind,

And in my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times.

I sometimes see you pass outside my door.

Hello, is it me you're looking for?

I can see it in your eyes,

I can see it in your smile.

You're all I've ever wanted,

And my arms are open wide.

'Cause you know just what to say,

And you know just what to do,

And I want to tell you so much,

I love you.

Oh, Lionel, we can feel your pain coming through in these amazing lyrics (which you wrote, alone, for your 1984 album Can't Slow Down and which were so popular you even re-recorded it for your 2012 album Tuskegee). The lyric make you feel; but the same cannot be said for, say, this:

I don't mean to be pushy, pushy.

I'm just in it for the pussy, pussy.

Who wants to come and get a pie of the piece?

Got time for everyone, I ain't on no leash.

(N-Dubz, 'Sex', Uncle B, 2008)

Erm... 'a pie of the piece'? Surely you mean 'a piece of the pie'.

Idiots. Proof-reading, people!

Another bugbear of mine is the rapidly-increasing obsession with the synthesiser and, worse still, the dreaded autotuner. Instruments themselves seem to be becoming a thing of the past, and it is for this reason I despise Calvin Harris so much - pressing a few buttons on a contraption which is essentially a computer does not constitute musicianship. As for the autotuner, the sad fact is that where singers could in the past be picked for their vocal ability, they are now signed up if they have the right tone which can be edited by, again, a computer. The result is, sadly, that what we hear on the record is in reality not the actual singer, and whenever they perform live, the results are inevitably tragic.

Compare:

The sad fact is, of course, that no-one sounds this good live anymore; and all because of the comfort the autotuner gives. I could cry from despair.

I believe it is for this reason artists now just have no longevity. Whereas Bryan Adams released his first album in 1980 and has something new coming out later this year (and this isn't even a comeback, having previous released albums of new material in 2008, 2004, 1998 and so on) and Bon Jovi have released new stuff on average every two years since their debut in 1984, modern artists just seem to stop after a couple of years. For example, the two great hit-making machines of the 90s, Steps and S Club 7, only managed 3 albums in 3 years and 4 in 4 years respectively, whereas one of the most popular pop acts of the present era, Take That, only managed three albums before splitting, and again after reuniting only managed a further three before announcing their 'hiatus' (and despite their plans for another album to be released in 2013, I suspect the hiatus is the start of the inevitable second disbandment).

I think I need say no more. But that isn't to say that all music has gone downhill; there are still some very talented artists out there. Yes, its true that Birdie may have managed to achive fame by making an album out of the same song repeated ten times, but that isn't the case with all up-and-coming artists. Folk music, for example, is holding out pretty well, and I would argue that whether its the fun-filled wackiness of Bellowhead's traditional folk tunes or the enchanting self-composed lyrics of the wonderful Laura Marling, there's hope for us yet. As for the more obscure acts, Vintage Trouble have worked wonders with their rock-infused soul tracks, and the French singer Ben l'Oncle Soul looks set to be working his way across the globe with his Motown revival. My list of good music, in fact, is pretty large. Whether it be The Shins, Josh Groban, Seasick Steve, etc, music seems to have hope yet.

Just as God sent Joan of Arc to lead the French to victory, so he also sent Laura Marling.
Not to lead the French to victory. That would be silly. To save music. Honestly, Laura fighting.
Look at her. Couldn't hurt a fly. Although I bet that guitar can do some damage.

But what I truly despair of is the mainstream. I would encourage all my readers not to be bogged down by the 'now' or even in the charts; there's a wealth of entertainment out there, just waiting to be grabbed by the balls.

William D. Green

Vampirism: A Modern Trend?

Ladies, gentlemen, not-so gentle men, ladies who look like men, men who look like ladies, ladies who look like ladies but feel like men, those undecided on their genders and those who’ve read so much Judith Butler that they no longer believe in genders; it has recently come to my attention that vampires are fucking everywhere.

Allow me to explain: I’m not proposing that the hemoglobin-infatuated hellspawn are literally fornicating the world over. No, that would just be silly. What I mean to imply is that the horny blighters appear to have entered into every facet of our culture!

The last thing you want to see you daughter (or boy, as we must be tolerant) playing with: a pony that could KILL YOU!

From Twilight and Tru Blood to Vampire Diaries and the newly-released My Nosferatu Pony, one can’t deny that fangs have overtaken Apple as the world’s biggest brand; and with Steve Jobs; current 'state', it won’t be long until even Apple succumbs to the undead bandwagon.

“Yeah, you may metaphorically suck the life blood from third world countries Bill, but I literally drain the living of their life giving juices! Jobs one- Gates nil. Even death can’t stop you, when you own an apple. Our virus support is just that good!”

Yeah, you may metaphorically suck the life-force from third world countries, Bill...
but I literally drain the living of their life-giving juices!

Jobs 1 - Gates nil. Even death can't stop you, when you own an Apple. Their virus support is just that good!

So, how is it exactly that our culture has become so infatuated with the Vampiric? It’s actually quite simple - all one has to do is go back to where it all began: in the fires of Mount Doom - cough, cough - sorry, I really must fight the urge to reference popular culture. As I was saying: sit back, pop the kettle on and settle down for a little bit of story time...

'3 May. Bistritz. – Left Munich at 8.35pm on 1^st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning […]'

Oh, sorry, I appear to have chosen the wrong vampire-related story. Let’s try this again shall we?

'My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favourite shirt – sleeveless, white eyelet lace; I was wearing it as a farewell gesture. My carry-on item was a parka […]'

No, wait, still the wrong story. What is this trash? 'My carry-on item was a parka' - what’s next? Sparkling vampires falling in love with a poorly rounded narrator? Not on my watch! Enough of these shenanigans and back to the point at hand!

'The time is now.

We are in a small room with the vampire, face to face, as he speaks—as he pours out the hypnotic, shocking, moving, and erotically charged confessions of the first two thousand years of the living dead […]'

Much better…

“Well you see, in the beginning… we weren’t what you see today. Nowadays you see Colin Farrell topless doing battle with Doctor Who, or you see some actress with the charisma of Keanu Reeves crying to this prick:

Oh my God, this picture balances his good and bad aspects so amazingly! So immensely artistic!

See, it wasn’t like this back when I started. Back when I started it was a cruel, savage act being turned; kind of like a more homoerotic press-ganging. Let’s just say you were lucky if your immortal life didn’t start with an anal raping. Well I guess in those respects… it was just like a press-ganging… come to think of it I don’t even have fangs. I’m not even a vampire if I’m honest. I’m just some poor sod who got done from behind and thrown on a boat. I don’t even like the dark if I’m honest; it brings back bad memories. All that rum and salt, I shudder at the thought; I’m so sorry I can’t do this…”

The Vampire has turned away, tears streaming from his face; a brief shower to wash away the dirt-ridden entrails of his past. Sorrowful he makes for the door, grimacing at the picture in the hall. Now angered by the image of some sea-born vessel he’s fled in a fit of rage, his hands across his rear in defiance of what had been.'

Well… that explained... nothing… yeah.

Sorry about that. I have no excuse for what you just read. MY BAD! So, where were we…? Ah, yes, where did our culture’s affinity to the elongated canine begin? When was society first taken ill with Sanguinare Vampiris? Well, it may or may not surprise many of you that the Vampire is far older than Bram Stoker’s Dracula. In fact, myths speaking of Vampiric beings have been told around the entirety of the planet for thousands of years. Some have even argued that the vampire myth may stretch back to prehistoric times.* It wasn’t until the early eighteenth century, however, that the concept of vampirism really hit the mainstream. This was due to the rising number of vampire legends in the Balkans and Eastern Europe. Vampire superstitions got so bad in Europe, in fact, that they grew into a hysteria with numerous stakings across the period. So, if you ever travel back to the eighteenth century… don’t sleep in a coffin: it’s not advisable.

It wasn’t until 1819, however, that literature was allowed to bare its fangs. The first published story about the blood suckers was John Polidori’s novella The Vampyre. It was this work that transformed the vampire from an abhorred, undead beastie into the charismatic aristocrat we see in Dracula. Polidori tells the story of Aubrey – a young Englishman – following the mysterious Lord Ruthven – wonder who the vampire is – on his travels about Europe. The story itself was highly successful and lead to numerous tales of Vampiric intrigue being published from this moment on; one such work being the somewhat confused penny-dreadful Varney the Vampire (1845). Woe and behold, this told the story of an aristocratic vampire named… any guesses? I’ll give you a clue: it rhymes with (but isn’t) 'Barney'. There were no giant purple dinosaurs in this story, children… sorry, maybe next time.

We’re not there yet, folks. Many more tales of the Nosferatu were published before Stoker made the term popular in Dracula; one such story being Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu’s 1872 tale of a lesbian Vampire, Carmilla. This itself helped in starting off the long-lasting partnership between homosexuality and Vampirism. Come on, you can’t say you’ve never noticed it… even Dracula’s a closet gay…

It was not, in fact, until 1897 that Bram Stoker published his stand-out novel (which also happens to be the only one he wrote still in print), Dracula. So, as you can see, Stoker in no way created the Vampire. He didn’t even sculpt the archetypal aristocratic beastie we all know and love. Far from it: he is in fact just another stepping stone in the trail of Vampires across history.  What Stoker did do, however, is bring Vampires to the novel form. He took them from the realm of penny-dreadfuls and short stories into the newly-erected Kingdom of the Gothic Novel!

So, as you can see, Vampires are not merely some modern outbreak. They’re not like foot and mouth or bird flu, a recent phenomenon and passing trend. No, they’re far more. Vampires have been around as long as language. They’re a mythology that’s lived alongside mankind since the beginning.

In many ways, this is the magnificent thing about Vampires. Not only have they always been there within our culture, but they’re constantly changing, innovated by the world around them. For example, in 1895 there was the first cinema screening ever and it only took until 1913 for The Vampire to reach the big screen, a film shortly followed by F. W. Murnau’s masterpiece, Nosferatu, the first true Vampire movie and one to be followed by thousands more. By 2005, for example, Count Dracula had been the subject of more films than any other fictional character - if you’re to count the vampire itself and not just Stoker’s reincarnation, there’s many, many more...

With this in mind, is it any great surprise that Vampires are everywhere in our culture today? They have always been at the fore of cultural innovation and now in a world built around film, television and the internet the vampire myth is able to thrive even more so as the vampire brand. So when one argues that Vampires have taken over the last few years it’s not actually true. They’ve always been here: it’s society that’s changed. Now they’re not only confined to mythology or stories, but are able to thrive within a world of images. They’ve always been at the door: we’ve merely invited them in.

Now please enjoy some images of the Vampire's evolution over the years: thanks for reading.

Wow... Talk about devolving...

Shaun Beale

*Found in one of the many histories of the period.

The Pessimist's Guide to Modern Living - Part 8: Sporting Annoyances and How to Survive Them

Football! Football!! Foootballlll!!! Inguhlannnd! Inguhlannnd!

Translation: 'Oh my, the football is on the television once again. I do hope England manages to succeed in its endeavours this time around.'

Then again, if you're me, you couldn't give two flying monkeys, and if you ever did attempt to utter the aforementioned two sentences, you would of course be speaking ironically.

Nevertheless, summer has arrived; and what does summer mean? The chance to finally settle once and for all the argument as to which nation is undoubtedly the best at arranging a group of eleven men, seeing if they can run around a field kicking a ball, and paying them far too much money for doing relatively nothing.

Ah well, we can't really complain, can we? If any of us don't like the so-called 'Beautiful Game' we can always lie low and wait for it to blow over, can't we? Wait. What? The Olympics are coming immediately afterwards? Hmmm... Excuse me for a moment.

Fffffffuuuuuuuuuuuu-

Better.

Yes, that's exactly what this time of year means to us. Sport, sport and more bloody sport. On that note, therefore, I feel it would be appropriate to abandon my previous idea for the current instalment of The Pessimist's Guide to Modern Living (holidays) into something a large number of us do, amazing, wish to avoid; and so, it is with slight pleasure and great annoyance that I bring you...

The Pessimist's Guide to Surviving Sport.

Firstly, it is important to be able to recognise when the media is oversaturating our lives with sport coverage. Summer is a time for relaxation, seeing those you have not seen for a while, holidays, barbecues and, if you're a student, looking at your steadily accumulating reading lists and thinking dark, depressing thoughts. Fortunately, you can always escape with a bit of television.

Or can you?

No. No, you can't.

Sorry.

If annoying adverts get on your tits, then unless you're a die-hard fan of the sporting world you're going to feel very left out indeed. You know the situation is indeed dire when you start to realise slowly that all your favourite shows are being cancelled and replaced with the EFFING UEFA (WHICH, INCIDENTALLY, IS NOT EVEN A WORD) CUP THINGY or, if not altogether replaced, put back further and further due to what I believe is referred to as 'extra time'. All I can assume is that the network executives assume everyone would rather watch football. Well, in fact, some of us don't. If I want to see a group of men running around on some grass chasing something for my entertainment, I would put a pretzel on the back of a remote-controlled car, sit back, point the pretzel out to Simon Birkmyre, Shaun Beale and Alex White individually, and then start driving the car around and watch them chase it. Yes, it could become an all-out death match, but it would be far more entertaining and take far less time than football coverage - and far more amusing, I need not add.

Instead of this new social activity I have just invented in my mind (and which has already provided me with much amusement, I have to say), I am forced to watch the shows of yesteryear. I have currently taken to watching something I actually missed from the nineties - Joss Whedon's cult classic Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which I first encountered when we were forced to watch it for the American Gothic module at university, and I will always remember watching my first Buffy episode, 'Hush', with Kat Darlington, Alex White, Adam Carter and Sarah Butcher, and the way we laughed over how the episode's villains, the Gentlemen, somewhat strangely resemble Simon Birkmyre and Shaun Beale:

See the resemblance? You will. And what has been seen cannot be unseen...

Trust me, Alex: it's a GOOD thing you are erroneous to my purposes in this photo

Now, this show I have just got into is, I must point out, is far, far more entertaining than sport. Each episode is different, its not nearly as camp as my prejudices told me it would be, is well-written and features something different each episode. Unfortunately, football, tennis, whatever it may be, is just not the same as good old-fashioned epic TV fiction. Each game is the same, no matter what ball sport it seems to be: each 'episode', as I shall call them, features a ball moving back and forth, back and forth, like a strange, twisted, overpaid Newton's Cradle. But, whatever you enjoy watching, rest assured it will be removed for sport, which is just downright irritating - there's a reason Sky Sports was invented, after all. I for one can't understand where the assumption that we all love sport comes from, and I shall endeavour to highlight this point with three clear points. For example, would you rather see this:

One's a witch;
One's... the best friend of a witch;
One's a slayer;
One's a watcher;
One's a bitch you can't help but like.

 Or this?:

They're all the same. They can kick a ball. Actually the middle guy can regrow his lost hair. Magic.

The big yellow flash behind them doesn't remove the fact they look like schoolboys who have just seen an ice cream van.

Now one for the hormonal, pre-pubescent boys: would you rather see this:

Wahhhheyyyyyyy!!!

Or this?:

Wahhh - hang on. Is that a kiss or not? It's like a half-kiss.
We need more commitment from these guys.

And, finally, would you rather see something where the boss man looks like this:

Me in the future? Quite possibly.

Or like an owl?:

Anyway, whichever way you swing in your sports mentality, I think my argument works pretty well.

Secondly, we should always be able to mock those who are 'foorball or insert other appropriate sport here fans'. Yes, I mean these guys:

This is slightly sexist. I know girls like him too.

Or, appropriately, this guy:

Don't look at the dog. He, like Alex White, is erroneous to my purposes here.

Still, you can't help but think where you've seen these images before...

Homer Simpson. Look in the mirror, you. Yes, you.
It's you.
Ha Ha!

The fact is, if you make a big thing about watching every match on TV, you're one of two kinds of people: either, you can't afford to actually GO to a match, so you have to sit in your own home so close to the TV that you are able to pretend you're out; or, you have no friends.

Sorry, I know that's not true. But this is primarily an 'insult everybody' site.

To me, sport fanatics are like Jehovah's Witnesses. Your life choice is fine. Just don't talk to me or come within a mile of my home.

Thirdly and, indeed, I feel, most importantly, you must be able to mock those who partake in the act of being paid by the shiteload for playing a game. And so, I feel obliged to ask if you've SEEN WAYNE ROONEY'S HAIR SINCE THE TRANSPLANT?!

IT LOOKS LIKE HIS FACE IS BEING STRETCHED UPWARDS!

Annnnnd rest.

But, of course, it would be unfair of me to make this whole article entirely about football. I loathe the olympics even more.

Of course, there has been a law passed against improper use of the olympic logo. I'm not sure what 'improper' means, but I assume it has something to do with saying it looks like Lisa Simpson giving a blowjob to the numbers 2 and 1. Which it does.

Poor Lisa. Bad parenting will take you to some dark places.

But, whether its logo is dodgy and slightly paedophilic, it cannot be avoided that sport in all forms is here to stay. But, just so you know there are alternative's if you're at a loss for what to do, here is a list of things that are better than sport:

1. Buffy the Vampire Slayer
2. Angel
3. Doctor Who
4. Would I Lie to You?
5. Have I Got News for You
6. QI
7. Mock the Week
8. Stephen Fry's voice
9. All William Shakespeare's work (except the drivel that is Antony and Cleopatra - the scholars may think Titus Andronicus is crap, but there's nothing good in this 'great' play at all)
10. P. G. Wodehouse
11. Geoffrey Chaucer's beard
12. Family Guy
13. Urinating
14. Being urinated on
15. Staples
16. Staples (as in the shop)
17. Paperclips
18. Greggs
19. Tuna
20. Simon Birkmyre's ever-evolving hairstyle
21. Simon Cowell's trousers
22. Kat Darlington's hair
23. Harriet Baker's voice
24. Shaun Beale's poetry
25. Alex White's ears
26. Celebrating a little internal win after accurately translating Middle English
27. Winchester
28. Solihull
29. Andover (or so I hear)
30. Sailing
31. Swimming
32. Drowning
33. The Simpsons
34. Yoshi
35. George Orwell
36. Brave New World
37. Christopher Marlowe's fingernails
38. Japanese tourists
39. The casual racism of the elderly
40. Receiving an enema from a guy you met in an alley called Barry who claims to require money to feed his starving family but who later reveals he just likes sticking tubes in people's orifices
41. Prawn cocktail flavoured crisps
42. Kids who point out the word 'cock' in 'prawn cocktail', clearly believing you hadn't noticed it
43. People who pretend not to notice the word 'cock' in 'prawn cocktail'
44. Jesus Christ
45. Judas Iscariot
46. David Cameron's parenting skills
47. The Daily Mail
48. Piers Morgan's nose
49. Chris Evans' hyperactivity
50. Garden peas

So, whether you hate sport as much as me or whether you like it, its important to remember that it will never go away, and that we will never finally settle which nation is the best at it... so we might as well not bother. If we could go outside and do anything that doesn't involve a ball, let's do it, regardless of how cloudy it is! It has to be better than staying in all summer long with the TV and the morons shouting their irritating chants down the microphones of poor, unsuspecting reporters.

And a word to the wise: don't tickle her bum with a lumb of celery. It doesn't work. If 'she don't come', you're doing it wrong, lad. And where do you have to go to get a 'lump of celery', anyway? I mean, really, you normally get celery in sticks (which... and I don't mean to be inappropriate... would do the job far better than a lump of the stuff...)

ANNNNYWAYYY...

Peace out. I'm going to go and do a spot of t'ai chi.

William D. Green

William D. Green would like to apologise to any sport lover he has offended during the course of this article. He isn't sincere in his apology, but he'd like to say sorry anyway.

Bangin’ Tunes! – Music and the search for Manhood!

Friends, Romans, countrymen! It is as of recent that a rather unsettling factor of my own persona has been revealed unto me. It came to mind whilst I was sat in the in the centre of a wide, majestic and oh so very beautiful field alongside a myriad of butterflies, squirrels, hopes and dreams. The joy of a thousand orphans who’ve found their parents after years of arduous searching bathed the land in an almost mystical, sublime light. It was in this paradise that I listened to Dido’s gentle vocal instruments at work allowing the following to flutter free amongst the perfections of my present,

“And I want to thank you for giving me

The best day of my life

Oh, just to be with you is having

The best day of my life”

As the words melted into my very core I allowed my hand to be carried free across a page, crafting would be poetry with every stroke. It was a euphoric moment that shall be carried with me throughout life! It was a moment truly at peace! It was daytime so I couldn’t see, but I’m certain if it had been night the planets would have aligned. Para, para, paradise!

“Every beloved object is the centre point of a paradise.”

It was at this moment that it happened, the moment of realisation. Having finished my latest verse on love and pixies I sat back amongst nature and resolved to take it all in. Within a minute however… disaster had struck! Without knowing what I was doing I had begun to craft a chain from the daisies around which I’d sat. It was in this act I had created my own shackles. I had lost my masculinity…

I am now locked in place by an indestructible chain of pretty flowers. I have become… feminine.

“Shit the bed!”

So that is where this article comes in. I must do what all men at odds with their own sexuality do. I must talk about sex! ‘ight Geez! Cause that’s manlike ‘aint it mushty? So here are my top ten sexually themed songs. An attempt to reclaim my manhood… Brap.

               10. Rihanna - S&M

Whips and chains? S&M? I feel my masculinity taking root within me! This song makes it onto this list not because it’s particularly good… More for the novelty of it being played all the time and that children seem to enjoy singing along. The funniest moment of my life has to be hearing a six year old sing about how whips and chains excite her. Although with that thought I can feel my masculinity receding. Let’s move on to something toddler free shall we?

Best line: “Come on, come on, come on / I like it-like it!”

You can’t pay for lyrics that good! And people say music’s gone downhill…

            9. Semisonic - Completely Pleased

Next on our search for my own masculinity is the nineties incarnate, Semisonic. This song makes it onto the list because of its extremely moral message. If one is to be a real man, they must leave their woman in a state of comatose euphoria. Anything less just won’t do! Oh… masculinity receding…

Best line: “I want to see you hazy dazed and confused I / Want to see you come, come completely used up”

Hazy? Dazed and confused? Now where’s my roofies? MANHOOD! HERE I COME!

               8. (Hed) P.E. - Murder

Work it, work it! Hear that sound, that’s the sound of me, pounding you!  Only the first of the songs in this list to include both sex and murder I’m seeing the start of a running theme. This song earns its position for its declaration, “That’s my pussy!” As we all know having ownership of one’s woman is vital if one’s to be deemed a man.  Now bitch! Go make me a grilled cheese sandwich!

Best line: “That’s my pussy, that’s yo pussy!”

Maybe we can let the cat decide? They’re very independent animals you know.

               7. Tenacious D - Fuck her Gently

Once again we have a singer taking the high road. All these morals in sex and I thought it was just about the birds and the bees. Anyhow, learn from this song! Sometimes doing things the hard way just isn’t right! But talking about hard… I think my masculinity’s starting to show.

Best line: “I'm gonna hump you sweetly / I'm gonna ball you discreetly”

Discreetly hey… So they shouldn’t even see it coming!

Six months in prison later…

               6. 50 Cent - Candy Shop

Where’d you get that lolly pop? Oh… Oh my… Charlie and the chocolate factory will never be the same again. GENE WILDER IS A BAD, BAD MAN!

Best line: “I'll take you to the candy shop / I'll let you lick the lollipop”

Anyhow, enough of ruining people’s childhoods… for now.

               5. Semisonic – Get a Grip

Now this is the second entry in this list for Semisonic. What can I say, these guys just love singing about sex! This is also the only song in the list to feature masturbation! Well done Semisonic, I’d shake your hands but well, you know.

Best line: “Lonely girls and you lonely boys / Playing alone with your lonely toys”

It’s like they’re singing my life! And talking about getting a grip…

A brief interlude.

               4. The Smiths – Handsome Devil

Well nothing says masculinity like cuckolding somebody! For this reason Morrissey singing of a libertine handsome devil surely couldn’t be kept from the list. Also… what says masculinity better than Morrissey? Oh yeah…

Best line: “Let me get my hands / On your mammary glands”

Hmm… doesn’t get much more erotic than those mammary glands does it boys?

               3. Red Hot Chili Peppers – Party of your Pussy

Slap base and a pussy party! As well as being incredibly sexual, this song’s just funky. This song is just about light hearted enough to get away with its extremely absurd lyrics; this is truly something only Antony and the boys could pull off.

Best line: “I want to party on your pussy, baby”

If you don’t mind that is… I don’t wish to intrude. Who says you can’t be both masculine and polite?

               2. Avenged Sevenfold – A little piece of Heaven

Here it is, the second on our list to include murder and there is only one means of describing this song… special. This strangely heartfelt story of multiple murders, hearts being eaten, coldplay and marriage is something extremely unique to say the least. But let’s be honest, one line got this song into the list-

Best line: “'Cause I really always knew that my little crime would be cold that's why I got a heater for your thighs”

Genius… Simply genius. Now honey, where’d I leave that heater?

1.      Disney’s Aladdin – A Whole New World

Now I can see you’re all quite annoyed at this topping our list. BUT ALAS! Allow me to pose to you the following lyrics.

1.      I can open your eyes

Take you wonder by wonder

Over, sideways and under

Now really, it doesn’t take an overly hormonal teen to spot what these lyrics are implying. Disney what are you playing at! If I were to sing these words out loud to the children of the world I’d be locked up! It’s only within the ultra-innocent guise of a Disney film that lyrics like these are allowed to pass, and wait there’s more.

2.      Hold your breath - it gets better

I'm like a shooting star

I've come so far

Smut. It’s pure smut. Oh, and don’t forget,

3.      Indescribable feeling

INDESCRIBABLE FEELING! Well I wonder what that feeling could be Aladdin, is it someone rubbing your lamp hmm?

So, what I’m proposing is that behind the childish adventure and innocent romance, there are actually deep, sexual issues being explored within this song… Either it’s that or I just love Disney and will to stop at nothing to get it into this list. Damn it, who am I fooling, I LOVE DISNEY! Screw masculinity, and screw sex. Who needs it when you’ve got heroes, and princesses, and beauties, and beasts, and talking cutlery. I love everything about it! It’s truly one of the most beautiful things ever, in every single way.

You know what? FUCK IT! I love making daisy chains as well. This whole search for my masculinity is laughable. I’m just going to quit right now and embrace my femininity, put on a dress made of bacon and call myself Lady Gaga because I was born this way!

Shaun Beale

 The Pessimist Chronicles would like to apologise for the distinct lack of Nicholas Cage directed insults within this article. As an apology allow us to rectify this problem; Nicholas Cage is in every way an insult to the human race and deserves nothing less than the combined suffering of all the minority groups throughout history bestowed upon  him. 

The Pessimist Chronicles would like to apologise to any readers from said - minority groups - who may have been offended by the above comment, nothing was meant by this. If Nicholas Cage was offended however that is fine, because he can go fuck himself.