No Value

Earlier today I was talking with my co-worker, PJ. We were chatting about how now a days I download most of my movies, due to my lack of funds, and how I miss all the extras they have on DVDs. PJ in answer to me said “I don’t know what your problem is to me all that is just crap and has no value.” I have to say my jaw dropped. I told him how I loved to watch “The Making of” videos and hearing the filmmakers’ thoughts on their film. Again, I got the same response that all of that material has no value.

Well, honestly, I’ve heard a lot of that in the horror community, especially from convention organizers. Seriously, you ask them about signing horror writers or horror screen writers you get the same attitude, it’s like you’re wasting their time, because in their eyes writers period are of way lesser value than filmmakers, actors, painted up scream queens, horror hosts, and documentary filmmakers.

I want to know when the fuck did writers lose their value and who the fuck made that decision? I mean give me a fucking break. I remember years ago when I would go to conventions, the old Fangoria Weekend and Creation conventions, that you had authors as regular guests. Hell, there used to be panels for horror and science fiction writers. Hell, screenwriters were treated like stars at the old conventions. I remember attending panels lead by Harlan Ellison, Ray Bradbury, and even by Dean Koonz. It was what inspired me to start writing.

 Think about this, assholes…What would Friday the 13^th be without that wonderfully crafted script written by Victor Miller? Or how about Scream without the genius of screenwriter Kevin Williamson. Or Texas Chainsaw Massacre without writer Kim Henkel. Oh, and what about Halloween without John Carpenter and Debra Hill…Oh, but I forgot John Carpenter is also a filmmaker so he does have value. And, what about authors? Why is Bentley Little, who has been bleeding and writing his art for years, so inferior to some jackass who edits together film clips and interviews actors for a direct to video documentary on a film franchise? What makes them such stars over a person who sits in a room for months at a time ripping their soul apart and creating entire worlds and people in his mind and slaving to bring their vision to the world. Excuse me, but how fucking dare you arrogant pricks say such a thing. If it wasn’t for the dedication of writers the filmmakers, who you fucks so admire so much, would be sitting around shooting films of trains coming into stations. All writers are important to horror. They are way more important than the fucktards that put out My Name is Jason or Never Sleep Again. If it wasn’t for the dedication and sweat of screenwriters these fucks wouldn’t have any material to do their fucking documentaries about. Yet, unless a writer isn’t a Stephen King or Clive Barker they are considered trash by convention organizers and thus only worthy of a vendors table in the back of the vendor’s room. Fuck you, you arrogant bastards. It shows how totally fucked up the situation is that a number of writers ended up emptying their own pockets to put on their own gathering in Kentucky to connect with fans, because they were sick of being treated like garbage by convention organizers. Look at the world you ignorant fucks. Computer tablets and E books are on the rise. People are reading again. The written word is not dying, it is like a phoenix and being reborn, so in the world writers have value. The horror community, and especially convention organizers, need to keep up with the times…Give horror writers and screen writers the respect they deserve, because they have value....

Professionalism

Recently an associate of mine suggested I act more professional in regard to horror, because he said my actions and my attitude was going to ruin my career. Here is my answer to that. To fucking hell with that! Here is one thing you need to realize, I’m never professional. To me professional means kissing people’s asses and acting like a Stepford person. Professional means letting people get away with shit, because you feel if you object you will be going against the popular opinion and the status quo. Professional means letting people use you and take advantage of you because you feel you need their approval. Get this straight,  I’m who I am. I’m genuine. I don’t put on a false image just to win the approval of others. I don’t need their approval. They either accept me for who I am or they can fuck off…Simple as that.

The fact is I’m an artist and a writer, which both tend to be less than professional by the social way of thinking. Look at two very artistic people I admire who truly are unprofessional. One is Mr. Howard Stern. Howard truly doesn’t give a flying fuck about what is professional and what is not…Howard is Howard and he simply doesn’t care. Then there is my mentor, Mr. Harlan Ellison. Harlan will tell his fans they are total idiots if he feels they are being that way. He actually told a representative from Warner Brothers studio that he would come down and burn down their offices if they didn’t send him a free DVD copy of Babylon 5 because it contained an interview he had done. He doesn’t play politics or be nice and kiss the ass of anyone. Yet both men are extremely successful and respected for being who they are.

People in the horror community use the word “professional” as a crutch or excuse to criticize someone for not doing things their way or not bowing down to them. The truth is that professionalism in the horror is a myth. All supposed business is done on a social level rather than a truly business only level. That is why so many unfair and sneaky deals are done. Filmmakers cast their friends over better prospects. Convention organizers invite only their buddies and ignore local talent. Convention organizers blackball people simply because they ask the fans to request them. Vendors get free tables and get to go to VIP parties and other events because they are buddies of organizers. These are the people who are called “professionals”, what they should be called is brown nosers and ass kissers or worse cheaters and liars. William Pattison, aka Eric Morse, is not a brown noser or ass kisser and is definitely not a cheater or a liar (though some have dared to try to say otherwise) thus I am unprofessional. I say good.

And to a certain two convention organizers, communication is the key to understanding and knowing how to communicate is even more important. If a person is uncommunicative or depends on public opinion the best way  (by the definition of the horror community’s style of professionalism) to get a response is to bring the issue up in a public forum and force their hand. Thus when it comes down to it I have been very professional in how I've handled the two of you (gag). You don’t like how I play your games then play mine…be honest, be fair, and show me the respect a six time author deserves, which is the same as any actor or documentary filmmaker…period. Simple as that. You don’t and you deserve what you get. This is me communicating and I’m hoping you are understanding. That is more important than making the excuse that I’m unprofessional…


Here is an example of what I mean....

A note to my fans and friends

Well, I just went and erased another 50 emails from Eric Morse fans. In 90% of them I got a variation on “ I’m so sorry you were banned from that con, Miss Misery is such an asshole for doing that. When are you going to be at a convention near me?” Here is your fucking answer NEVER!  Honestly, people, I feel like going completely off. These people in these emails obviously know about the convention drama. They fucking know I been told in no uncertain terms that I am not welcome in “The Scene”. The Ftards that think they make those decisions have said that and YOU, all of you, have pretty much backed that shit up. So here is my question, why the fuck am I getting these damned emails…Why do they come in days after day. I ask the fans for support, and yet I get shit in return. Then, as if to rub salt in my wounds, they keep bugging me about getting into conventions. You want me to be at conventions then get off your lazy asses and bug the shallow assholes that banned me and pushed me away until one of them breaks down and signs me. Stop emailing me and asking me. Do you realize how much it hurts me. It is like you are slapping me in the face.

Oh, and to my friends, stop calling me and emailing and telling me what a wonderful time you had at such and such convention. That is like rubbing salt in my wounds too. If I’m not worthy or welcome to come and hang out with other horror fans then I don’t want to hear about others doing it. I’m not that much of a saint and I’m tired of people thinking I’m supposed to be. I have to tolerate seeing posts on Facebook, but stop rubbing it in my face. I’m done with it. If I had had some support from the horror community those asses would have never pulled that shit of banning me….So, I’m sorry to be honest, but I blame you. So, don’t talk to me about conventions…I don’t want to hear.

This does not mean that I’m not going to do my new show with Lucas Marlone and Mary Madcox. Oh, no. You’ll hear what conventions are coming up from me. But if I sound excited and enthusiastic….The Academy Award goes to William Pattison, aka Eric Morse. Just remember that….

And here is a little music to fit the mood....

My Experience at Zombie-O-Rama IV

Four years ago I went with my boarder, actor Christopher Scott, to the first ever Bay Area, actually technically San Jose is Silicon Valley, zombie crawl. It was an wonderful event and over 1,000 people attended. Yesterday, I attended the fourth years event and was blown away. I had gone to the second year and it was bigger and better. Unfortunately, I had missed year three because I didn’t have transport, which royally sucked. This year I walked into a monster of an event. My sister and I were a bit late so we showed up when the entertainment had started. When we arrived I swear we walked into a crowd of over 4,000 people. A band was playing. A number of people  dressed up as those beserkers from Resident Evil. There were people in incredibly detailed makeup from The Walking Dead as well. Also there were people in simplistic makeup as well, most of these got theirs done at the event for a donation of $5, good deal. For my part I did my own makeup and my sister’s. Unfortunately, I don’t have any pictures this time, because I forgot to charge my camera…

The food at the event was excellent. I had a pork burrito and some Hawaiian sliders. For desert I got a hand made strawberry cheesecake ice cream sandwich with fresh chocolate chip cookies.

After my sister and I watched a zombie fashion show and watch the costume contest. An amazing eyeless zombie won the woman’s category and a clown zombie won for the guys. Then we finished the evening with a showing of Shawn of the Dead in a big outdoor screen….it was glorious.

Now, if you were on Facebook you saw that it was back and forth in regard it if I was going to be able to make this event. It had taken an over blown importance for me to make it because of all the bullshit with me and horror events lately. I have to say it was nice to be able to hang out with a few thousand fellow horror fans. Actually, a couple people recognized me there and chatted me up. They were disappointed that they couldn’t get an autograph, but luckily I had a pen in my pocket and wrote down their addresses on a rather small piece of paper I had. I’ll send them autographed pictures once I have the funds to do so. So, all in all a wonderful time..Bravo Zombie-O Rama!

Burned out and Frustrated..

Some of the more jackassy among you will be overwhelmed with joy over this tidbit of news. As I was leaving for work this morning my sister called me on my cell phone and informed me that we can’t go to Zombie-O-Rama IV on Friday, which was the one little bright flicker of light left for me in regard to going to an actual horror event. The reason is because my sister broke her glasses and without them she can’t see to drive at night. Of course, none of the other people in our household will jump up and help us. That is a certainty. So once again I’m screwed over. In past years it wouldn’t matter that much to me, but this year it’s to the point I was ready to cry and put my fist through a wall. I’m so frustrated. I’m so fucking burned out with all this fucking bullshit I've been put through this year. If it isn’t fucking convention organizers fucking me over and excluding me from everything…it’s just the fucking attitude I get from you people in the horror community. It’s like, Oh, what the fuck are you so angry about…who the fuck are you. Then when I answer them and defend myself I get called an ego case and a trouble maker. The hypocritical thing is the people who make these accusations are royal fucking ego cases themselves. Then I try to do something positive. I try to open up opportunities and what do I get…nothing…no support…silence. What’s royally fucked up about that is I bust my ass to support and help other people in this community. If someone I know (Hell, in some cases people I hardly know) is doing something, and could use some help promoting, I’m right there no questions asked and no hesitation. Do you see that with many other people around here? Do you see that from the people who have fucked me over this year??? The answer is hell no! Yet, that bitch that screwed me over this year gets nothing but support and I get fucking blackballed from the convention scene and treated like dirt. What the fuck is that? A person asked me on Facebook why I don’t post pictures of me smiling….Give me something to smile about. The thing is, people, I’ve lost my faith in you. I wanted to believe that someone might show an ounce of humanity…but I’m still waiting. And, since you are all too dense to understand what I’m saying, this is a scream of pain. This is a cry for help…And, guess what? I know the answer already…Nothing…Silence…or Criticism. Have a good laugh…

900

We have reached and surpassed the 900 mark. This royally means I'm either feeling the love or the hate in spades. I never thought I'd get this far in so short a time. Congratulations readers. I hope those of you with open minds can understand my idea of inclusion rather than exclusion. The horror community needs a little horror unity rather than the bullshit, immature high school style class system the socials like to impose on the rest of us. As I've said socials are not elite and they have no right playing bosses. The true elite in horror in my opinion are the people who have watched so many horror films that they have an appreciation of every decade of horror, from its silent beginnings to the modern remakes and found footage films of today....
So, onto 1,000 and beyond...

Adventures in Bus Riding…

My friend Lucas Malone tells me that my life is like an epic novel. Yeah, a totally fucked up novel written by Terry Gilliam. A good example of why I make this statement is what happened on the bus ride home this afternoon. I had to take a side trip to a costume shop near my work named House of Humor (I had to get makeup for the zombie makeup jobs I’m doing next Friday so we can go to Zombie-O-Rama in San Jose)  so I didn’t catch my usual bus at the usual location. Instead I caught the notorious 390 bus. This bus is notorious to me because every time I catch this damned bus freakiness ensues. This time it was in spades. I got on the bus, which was pretty much full and I had to try to fit myself, my backpack, and my computer bag, aka my mobile office, into a very narrow seat next to Jabba the Hutt. I’m serious, people, this guy had to weight at least 500 pounds. He took up two entire seats on the sideway row of seats in the back that I tactfully call Skid Row. But that isn’t the freakiness I’m talking about. In the sideway handicap row in the front of the bus sat an old gentleman who literally looked like Caesar from Rise of the Planet of the Apes. I’m not shitting you. This guy looked like a chimpanzee in a tan suit with a walking stick with a silver-looking handle. Anyway, ten minutes into the trip Monkeyman exploded into a rage and back handed the four foot tall Japanese lady sitting on the side row in front of him. A big, buff, Italian guy with a heavy black mustache and bald head got up to stop him. But Monkeyman (Yes, I am going to continue to call him that…If that’s not too much of a problem, Chief…) swung his walking stick at the guy and glared him down. He then told this large man, who reminded me of Bane from The Dark Knight Risen, that he was a mental patient with dementia. He then introduced the Japanese lady he had slapped as his nurse. He warned Italian Bane guy that he was crazy and if he didn’t back the fuck off that he was going to beat his skull in with the walking stick because he wasn’t afraid of him and didn’t give a fuck if he killed somebody. The Japanese lady started yelling at him. Also, the bus driver yelled at him to back down and take his seat, which also caused the bus driver to nearly hit another vehicle because he was distracted by the conflict. Monkeyman continued to threaten Italian Bane. Amusingly enough Italian whimped out a bit and hit Monkeyman with the “I’ll call the cops” strategy. Monkeyman told him to try, because he’d knock the cell phone out his hand with his walking stick and beat the fuck out of him before he could get the call through. Then Monkeyman informed Italian Bane that he was a crazy fucking black man that hated all I quote, “… fuckin’ white honky motherfuckers, chinks, spiks, and anyone other motherfuck on this bus. So don’t fuck with me. I’ll kill you all!” Well, the bus driver, who was still driving even though he had passed two stops and could have stopped and dealt with this personally, ordered the Japanese lady to handle her charge (but not in those words). After a few more moments the tiny Japanese lady managed to get Monkeyman back into his seat. Italian Bane went back to his seat too, but Monkeyman wasn’t finished. He kept looking back at Italian Bane and calling him names and threatening him more. This went on until finally Italian Bane got tired of Monkeyman’s special attention and came back to Skid Row with me and my sweaty companion, Jabba. This didn’t stop Monkeyman, because he was on a roll. He found three other people to harass before I thankfully got to make my retreat when my stop came.

Now, here is my question in this situation…Where the fuck was the bus driver in all this. Why the fuck didn’t he stop the bus at the next stop and deal with this very volatile situation like the captain of any ship would. I would think that any bus driver worth his metal would have stopped the bus at the next stop, called his supervisor, and then the cops. Then he would have gotten in the middle of this standoff and disengaged the situation, reminding both parties that if they dared touch him or made any aggressive move against him it would five years in the pokie as some tattooed guy’s bitch (it says that on a poster next to the driver’s area…though not the part about being someone’s bitch..). The thing that gets me is this outcome didn’t happen. The bus driver just kept driving no matter what.

After I got off the bus I called SanTrans (our bus agency) and reported the situation to their customer service person. When I asked why the bus driver didn’t stop and take action she informed me that SanTrans had changed some of their policies in regard to bus schedules and she guessed the bus driver didn’t want to be late and get penalized. Suddenly, I found myself channeling my one mentor Mr. Harlan Ellison. I said to her I quote “ Excuse me. Are you saying that your bus driver was more worried about keeping to his bus schedule than a potentially life threatening situation happening on his bus?” She informed me that if a bus is late, according to their policy, by more than ten minutes driver is penalized thirty minutes pay. I said, “Are you shitting me. A bus driver has to stop to stop a fight on his bus and protect the safety of his passengers and you ftards are going to penalize him because his bus is off schedule because of this…Are you fucking shitting me?” Then of course customer service girl informed me that she didn’t appreciate my vulgar language. I informed her in no uncertain terms that I didn’t like the fact that SanTran is more worried about keeping their damned schedule and the safety of their drivers than they are the safety of their own passengers. I also reminded her that an assault had actually happened on the bus. Customer Service girl said, in a controlled voice, that she was well aware of that. I smacked back with “You just don’t give a flying fuck...tThat’s the problem.” Then I said that I honestly hoped that Italian Bane guy (though I didn’t call him that to her) has some balls and sues SanTran and fucking ends up owning them. Before customer service girl could make another statement or excuse I told her to go to fucking hell and hung up on her.

So there is my amusing tale of my public transit experience…What you think? Is Lucas right? I look forward to your comments, readers…