Fukyo no Kaze

Sendai Kamotsu is one of the funniest bands I know of. Of course the fact that they are also in a 'straight' band apart from their comedy band makes it even better. They are also known as Nightmare. And yes those are exactly the same guys from the previous video. Big difference. Most disturbing part? The big hole in the crotch of Chiba's jumpsuit that has the blurry bar effect over it.

ナイトメア[Nightmare] -- レゾンデートル[RAISON d'ETRE]

I'm a sucker for the band Nightmare. I admit it. I love this song. I love the bass guitar in this song. Also, it makes me want to watch Claymore again.




Lyrics

Ah ikutsumono yoru wo koeta
kootta yume to kieyuku namida
Warm me, Warm me, Wrap me

ichido subete wo wasureta hazu na no ni
hito wo aisenai kono mi ga nikui

dokomade aruitemo owari ga mienai
kako no kioku wo michizure ni
kono mi wa nani iro ni somariyuku no darou
kotae wo sagashiteiru

mou modoranai ketsubetsu no hi
fukaku nezashita kizu wa kienai
Hide it, Hide it, Hide me

ryoute ni mochikirenai hodo no hoshikuzu
hitotsu, mata hitotsu sora ni kaeshite

yowakute mijimena jibun wa ano koro
nani mo shirazu ni ikiteita
soredemo itsudemo asu wo yume mite wa
yubiori kazoeteita

ikiru imi nado shiranai mama de ii
itsuka waraeru hi ga kuru naraba

ano hi, anata no kotoba hitotsu de
tsuyoku nareru kigashita yo
"nani mo kawaranai de ima no mama de ii"

imademo kokoro no dokoka ni anata ga iru kara
mayowazu ni aruite ikeru
owari ga mienakute mo ii to omoeta yo
tabi yuku ETORANJE kotae wa shiranakute ii

translation:

Ahh traversing over many nights
Frozen dreams and fading tears
Warm me, warm me, wrap me

Once, I had forgotten everything, however
I hate this body that cannot love anymore

No matter how far I walk, I cannot see the end
Dragging along memories of the past
I wonder what color this body will be tainted by
I search for that answer

I can no longer return to those days free of bloodshed
These deep scars rooted within me will not disappear
Hide it, hide it, hide me

With these marred hands extended towards a discarded star
Alone, once again alone, I must return it to the sky

Even though I'm weak and miserable, I'm alone, just like that time
I am unable to signal here with my short breath
That's why I will always see a dream of tomorrow
While counting my caged fingers

It's alright to stay the same, without knowing the meaning of living
One day, I will do what I can to obtain those days of laughter

On that day, your words alone
Made my decision to become stronger
"No matter how much you change, you're fine the way you are now"

Now, because you're here, my heart has returned
I leave to walk ahead, only to be lost
Even though I cannot see the end, I think it's alright
I will leave on a journey at range, it's alright if I don't know the answer

Best Mystic Evar.

I don't care what anyone says. That is the most accurate psychic evar.

Ghosts? In mah house!?!

I can honestly say that I was never a Christian. I wasn't raised with religion. It was never discussed in my house. My father's parents didn't become religious until much later in life and my mom's family is Catholic for the most part. My mom considers herself Catholic, but it was never something that was forced on us as children or adults for that matter. My dad doesn't care about religion one bit and you'd be hard pressed to get the man to go into a church. The only time I've seen him do so was at my older sister's wedding. There are things that I did believe though. When I was a kid, I was certain that my house was haunted. Ghosts and ghouls creeped in the basement. In the kitchen, behind the antique crockery that was on the counters, a little monster hid until my parents turned off their lights and would come out and stare down the hall at me. I would stare back from the end of my bed, convinced that if I looked away, it would most definitely get off the counter and come back to my room. Unspeakable Lovecraftian horrors lurked under the bed and in the closets. The only effective counter measure for these terrors was to never let a body part dangle off the bed and make certain the closets were closed tightly. I can attribute this to several things, first and foremost probably my lifelong love of horror and dark fantasy stories. Secondly, at least two of my siblings swear to this day that the house was haunted. Third, I have a very vivid imagination and my elder siblings didn't help when they encouraged the fact that there were monsters under the bed, in the closets and ghosts would get you and do horrifying things to you. And secretly I loved it.

I am also a lifelong insomniac. At times the sleep deprivation would get so bad that I would see things at night. I would have long and coherent conversations with people, usually my mother, that I believed were standing next to my bed, conversing back with me, only to be gone in a blink of an eye. This might have frightened a lot of people, but I saw it as normal and didn't realize until years later it was due to my lack of sleep. And I have congenital cataracts. I was born with cataracts and didn't learn this until several years ago during an eye exam. I don't always see things clearly in very low light. That's where the monster in the kitchen came from. I thought I saw the monster, when in reality it was the sugar canister.

As an adult and a skeptical one at that, I can look back at these things and laugh. The thing is, my siblings aren't so skeptical about it though. They swear the house was haunted. They swear they saw things that can't be explained in that house. The house itself was pretty unremarkable. 3 bedroom, 1 bath, kitchen, living room, full basement. A small little house. We were the first people to live in the house. It was brand new when my parents moved into it in 1972 after my older sister was born and my dad got out of the Army. My Grandpa M- was one of the carpenters that built the house. There was never any horrible tragedy in the house. The land it was built on was a flower garden for the house to the right of it. It was nothing more than a cheery little yellow house with a black roof and shutters.

So what horrors did the house contain? I remember my older sister telling me over and over, and probably still would if I asked, about the lady in white. The lady in white wore a long white dress, like a wedding dress and would come out of the closet and stand at the end of our beds. She would stand at the end of my bed and move her lips as if she were talking. She would move to the end of my sister B's bed and point at her while she moved her lips. The all powerful and protective ghost repelling sheet or blanket would come into play then, covering her head as she hid from the ghost. The rule was, according to B, if you lowered the sheet, the ghost could 'get' you. Personally, I didn't believe that. I figured if you couldn't keep an eye on it, it had a better chance of getting you. In the years we shared a room, I never saw the lady in white. When B got older, she quit talking about the lady in white. She never mentioned it again until many years later when we were both at home for the holidays visiting. It was about 2 or 3 in the morning and an old horror movie was playing on the TV. The lady in white and the black thing.

Now the black thing was different. The black thing happened twice and she was sick both times. When B was in high school, she moved to a room in the basement, as did I. It was a school day both times she saw the black thing. My mom was a stay at home mom until all of us children were grown and pretty much out on our own. Basically she started working when she got into her 50's. B and my mother were the only people in the house. My mom was upstairs doing housework and B was in bed asleep. She woke up for some reason or another because she said she 'got a funny feeling'. She looked at her door. Instead of seeing her beloved door sized Motley Crue poster, she saw the black thing. It looked like the grim reaper she said. Nothing but a big black cloak. She never saw a face or hands, just a big black shape around 7 feet tall. As ridiculous as it sounded to me at the time, I didn't laugh when I got home from school and she told me about it. She was honestly petrified and afraid to tell my mother, who would have laughed at her.

The second time she saw the black thing she was at home sick again. She heard her door open and someone walk over to her bed and sit down beside her on the bed. She thought it was my mother checking on her. She looked and saw the black thing. So, the protective blanket came into play again, at 16 years old. I was puzzled by this because it seemed a little far fetched to me. Not because I didn't think there weren't ghosts in the house. I was 12 and knew that my sister was prone to some dramatics. She was a full fledged teenager. She was supposed to be.

And B isn't the only one to say that they saw things in the basement. I think I saw things in the basement. My little brother P, who is two years younger than me was flat out terrified of sleeping in the basement. I took the room he didn't even last one night in he was so terrified. He decided that he was going to move into the basement because he didn't want to share a room with S our youngest brother. He lasted 3 hours. My mother moved his things back to his old room while he was at school the next day and he slept on the couch. He never elaborated on what he believed was down there, but I think he might have gotten some premature gray hairs that night.

I did laugh at him. And he laughed at me and told me I was crazy when I said I was going to move into the basement. So I did. Nothing happened the first two weeks I was down there except my paranoid older sister waking me up with Motley Crue, Skid Row or freaking Guns n' Roses at all hours and her unplugging everything in my room daily. She was afraid if you left something plugged in, the whole house would immediately burn to the ground. The exception was her alarm clock. I still don't understand the logic behind that.

The first night something happened, I had just taken a shower and was getting ready for bed. The 10 o'clock news was just getting over and suddenly, out of nowhere, I heard what sounded like the typical generic demon voice from any number of horror movies. I was at my parents bedroom door upstairs probably second before the sonic boom of my flight from the basement. I'm certain I was as white as a sheet. I told them what happened and they laughed. They told me to sleep on the couch if I was so afraid. This made me angry. I was supposed to be reassured by my parents, not mocked for my irrational fear. I told them no, I was going to bed. So down I went to my room. Mission Impossible had started and no one was going to keep me from watching those old reruns. I looked around my room and said. "This is my room. You aren't going to scare me like P or B, so just fuck off." I was so bad ass, talking to an empty room after hearing what now was undoubtedly a tape screwing up the audio at the local TV station. I was so angry though. I put the headphone in the TV and shut off the light and got in bed. Nothing happened the rest of the night and I fell asleep watching Mission Impossible reruns.

My brother couldn't believe it. He freaked out. I told him no one was gonna make me give up my sweet room. Of course, my dad never did finish my room. It was a large open space next to the room he had made for my older brother J, that B had moved into when J didn't live at home anymore. There was one other incident, a few years later and I chalk that up to the combination of typical sounds a house makes, sleep deprivation and my poor eyesight. I do wear glasses now, I got my first pair my freshman year in high school. Without my glasses, I cannot see a foot in front of me clearly because of the cataracts. My vision wasn't that bad then, but it is now. I still could not see further than 5 feet away without everything becoming blurry. I woke up, hearing something, probably the furnace or water heater, or my dad raiding the fridge upstairs. I woke up. It doesn't take much. I'm a light sleeper. I sat up and looked around. Basements are dark. Basements are even darker at night. My brother and I had our bikes stored down there in my 'room'. I saw something over by the bikes. I thought maybe my brother had forgotten something and had come down to get it. Why this didn't strike me as odd at 2 or 3 or 4 in the morning, I don't know. I put on my glasses and saw, what appeared to be a person clawing at their face in pain. What? You say. It's the middle of the night, I got woken up by something and I think I'm seeing a man clawing his face in my bedroom. I took off my glasses, said "That's nice", and went back to sleep. Yeah, it wasn't any big deal that I thought I saw a man ripping the flesh from his face. I just rolled over and went back to sleep.

By that time, I had pretty much lost any fantasy illusions of ghosts and sky fairies and anything else that I couldn't prove to be true. It takes a lot to frighten me nowadays. It took quite a bit to honestly frighten me then. Ghosts and monsters scared me when I was very young but real things scared me more than anything. I was absolutely petrified of nuclear war. I would stay up at night after hearing something on the news about Russia and the US and nuclear weapons. Ah, the good old Cold War. You gotta love it. I realized by the time I was in high school that the things that you can imagine in your head can be pretty scary, but things in the real world are even more so. Today it's not so much the nuclear warheads and going to war with Russia that people would flap their gums about on the news when I was growing up, the new fear mongers beat the drum of terrorism and Muslims wanting the Western world dead, Socialists taking over the country, and gay marriage and abortion destroying the nation.

I sometimes wish I was that innocent again, believing in the ghosts and monsters in the basement and under the beds. It would make things easier. It honestly would. There was one final nail in the coffin of ghosts for me. It was the death of my older brother. That is also around the time that I openly said I was an atheist. My reasoning was if there was this great and wonderful god that my neighbors spoke of and some friends talked about, then why would he let my brother, who I loved and still love very much, suffer so badly in silence that he put a shotgun in his mouth and killed himself at 22 years old. I was a very angry 15 year old. Part of me still is. Part of me still wants to ask "How dare you. How dare you con people into believing such horrible lies about how wonderful this alleged sky fairy is. Comfort? It's not comfort, it's bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit."

That doesn't explain that final nail though. That final nail is the fact that my older brother told me, on more than one occasion, that any time I needed him and wanted to talk, he would always be there for me. That's the nail. After we had moved out of that house, out of that town, in the small town where my dad is retired and has his little spot in the country, the discussion of spirits came up. And Ouija boards. So then, on a Friday night, several of my friends wanted to use the Ouija board. They did. I sat there, probably with much eye rolling on my part and a few of the others, I said I would know if it worked or not. I was pretty sure the people using the damn thing were making it say whatever they wanted. I know, I had used one before and the joke was that we were talking to Burl Ives and he kept trying to sing us songs from old Rankin-Bass Christmas specials. None of us were serious that night. But that Friday night, one of the girls were dead serious about it. She was convinced that she was being haunted and targeted by satanists. Yes, she went there. And yes, the town is very, very small. I was in a graduating class of less than 60 at that school. I took the board with one of my friends and alone I sat there, away from the very overwrought girl (Who later got several of us a trip to the police station because she said we were satanists. Oh yeah, satanic panic still lives. That's a story for another day however.) I can say with 100% certainty, no matter how badly I wanted to have my brother talk back to me through that Parker Brothers piece of cardboard and plastic, he never did. She shut up that night and the matter was dropped. She decided her drama wasn't worth probably getting her teeth knocked out for talking shit about my brother.

That was the final nail though for me. Silly, probably, but that's what it took to finally wash my hands of bogeymen and spooks. I still love horror. I still love ghost stories. Nothing will change that.

Rider Kick!

I'm not gonna lie. I watched the Kamen Rider Decade All Riders vs. Daishocker movie on Sunday. It ruled. Here's the proof.

Attention Whoring for Jesus

Way to go Pat Robertson! A trending topic on Twitter. Coverage in the MSM and bloggers giving you several unflattering suggestions. Because you certainly know how to be an attention whore. It's something most holier-than-thou people excel at, but you did quite a number this time.

When was the last time a 'minister' got this much attention that didn't involve abuse, theft or two diving suits, suffocation and a dildo? Probably the last time you made an ass of yourself in public by braying your usual idiocy and showing your lack of knowledge in several subjects, history most of all.

Are you trying to fill the recently vacated gap left behind when Oral Roberts finally kicked the bucket? He was also a trending topic on Twitter that day too, but he had the decency to actually not bother anyone anymore because he croaked. You're a trending topic and have been denounced by several 'mainstream' x-tian groups for your idiocy but we still have you to kick around. I'm certain you'll continue to perform just as well as you have for years. I mean, let's not pretend, you've been an attention whore for Jesus for years. Remember that book James Randi wrote The Faith Healers in 1987? You had a whole chapter devoted to little old you. Remember all those hurricanes you 'steered away'? How'd that work out for you again? Oh, not at all right?

And who could forget when you and old Jerry Falwell got together after September 11th and you agreed that the attacks were caused by "pagans, abortionists, feminists, gays, lesbians, the ACLU and People for the American Way." Not that you guys didn't try to play that off. You had a malfunctioning earpiece right? And old Jerry misspoke. It's a bitch getting old isn't it?

And don't forget your interest in gold mining and race horses. Those are purely aesthetics though right? You're not in it for the money at all right?

Oh, and you remember that time you called for the State Department to get nuked? Yeah, good times huh? Or when you said that Hugo Chavez should be assassinated? You remember that? You're not gonna try and pull a Ronnie on us are you? You're not getting dementia right? Dementia patients do say some outlandish things at times. That might explain why you can leg press 2000 pounds. Almost as awesome as when you ran for president and got your ass whipped soundly, isn't it?

You did have some pretty high times though, didn't you. Has it been the fact that you've been slipping into irrelevancy in comparison to the newer, younger, flashier fleecers of the flock that you have to cry out for attention this way? You aren't getting any younger and I guess the attention from your last outburst has faded away again and you really needed a shot of hate.

Don't deny it Pat, you really are getting up there in years and it makes me wonder if this is your 'godly' version of Viagra. Is this how you put some lead in your pencil? It's hard to be a bitter old white man these days isn't it with all those minorities, women and queens getting attention in the news. You'd think an unassuming mainly christian country would be safe from that mouth of yours Pat, especially because of the tragedy that has occurred. That's a little too much to hope for isn't it? And awful christian of you Pat.

But, it was their own fault wasn't it Pat? Because they made a deal with the devil. Oh yes! There it is. The devil is the cause of the earthquake in Haiti. Not a sudden release of energy in the Earth's crust. Nope. Old Scratch himself is the cause of it. You know because the people of Haiti made a deal with the devil in the 1790's to get rid of whitey, or something like that. Pat has an excellent grasp of history, did you know that?

It always goes back to that doesn't it Pat? Demons and devils. And you are quite the comedian when you get started on that. Wait... you want people to take you seriously? Really? I thought you were the funniest right around Halloween when you got into full satanic panic mode when I was younger. I would tune into the 700 Club. For the lulz. Back then you had QUALITY devil and demon stories. That shit was a riot. Looks like things aren't as good as they used to be. You spout off easily refuted nonsense that has no basis in reality. You probably even offended your own sorry followers with that trite nonsense. I love how you always claim that people that don't believe what you do are satanic or as you said back exactly 19 years ago today that some denominations harbor the spirit of the Antichrist. That's what makes you a good attention whore though. You just spout off whatever idiotic, unsupported nonsense come to mind. Hurricane? Gays did it. Terrorist attacks? Lesbian witches and the ACLU. Earthquake in Haiti? 200+ year old pact with Satan. Way to channel Dana Carvey's Church Lady there Pat. It got you the attention you love though Pat, didn't it? We know you won't apologize. You may try to cover it up by saying you misspoke like old Jerry, but we know. Oh we know. You needed your fix. I hope you don't get blue balls again before you give us the next stupidgasm.

For more info on Pat's exploits you can always look at Pat Robertson controversies on Wikipedia.

There are just not enough facepalms...

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