DAVENPORT, Iowa — Local software firm Blackstone Limited is celebrating the diversity of the employees losing their jobs in a round of brutal layoffs, politically exhausted sources confirmed.
“Blackstone was very proud of our ‘Melting Pot’ initiative to hire as many people of color as it took to get the woke media off of our backs,” explained CEO Arthur Campbell. “But as the economy ebbs and flows we have been forced to cut back our budget making the latest group the most diverse group of workers let go in American history and I think that’s special. And because of these layoffs, I was able to give myself a 30% salary increase as a way to keep up morale.”
Some employees weren’t surprised as they expected layoffs to be coming, but 43-year-old bookkeeper Luis Torres was caught off guard by the whole thing.
“It definitely came as a shock to me. I’ve been here for 15 years and never missed a day,” said Torres. “It’s okay though, this company loves to preach equality and all that, but they’re so far from reality that they had options on our severance packages to get paid in things like menthol cigarettes and gardening tools. I talked to a lawyer and I’m very confident I will be compensated fairly.”
Although the layoffs have received national attention, activists say there isn’t much to be done legally in response.
“Unfortunately I do not feel there is anything I can do to assist these amazing, hard-working people. Maybe if they hadn’t taken so many vacation days or gone on maternity leave they would have been able to save their jobs,” stated Gladys Williams, a self-proclaimed worker’s rights activist who works almost exclusively on Instagram. “This is happening all over the country, people losing their livelihood. I for one would look at the current administration and ask what they are going to do about this. I am also affected, I happen to be a major stockholder in this very company, and my dividends are dropping quickly.”
At press time, representatives from Blackstone Limited stated that while they are saddened by the loss of their diverse workforce, they are excited about the new corporate plan to revolutionize their backend coding with Artificial Intelligence so they can lay off a ton of white people next time.
Yes, the ninth installment was produced solely so Dimension Films could retain franchise rights. Yes, this was made in less than three weeks. Yes, this may be one of the worst horror films you’ve ever seen. Still, you absolutely love it. You’ve seen it umpteen times. You use the “found footage” aspect as justification to film more vacations together, even maybe in Mexico per the film. You mention that this is the first release of the franchise (unfortunately) without Doug Bradley as Pinhead, showing how we can change and grow past old attachments. You use it as an example of how powerful a shared vision can be: when you come together as a team, you can complete a project in record time (even if it is a hot mess, oddly comparable to your neglected marriage.)
“This one has a party train! Wouldn’t using public transportation be more fun? We could be a conscientious couple,” you plead, showing clips of the seventh installment. The dreary Romanian setting does you no favor. But there is an ambitious female journalist as a protagonist (a recurring theme of the series), one that you accidentally and condescendingly point to as a potential role model. “Please turn this off,” the therapist asks, especially during the unpleasant black and white flashbacks. Your wife mocks the title: “Deader? Really?” and for some reason, this makes you begin to cry. Not to worry, you’re able to dry your eyes with the collar of your official Pinhead flannel from Hot Topic.
“The tenth one isn’t that bad!” you find yourself saying. When has the tenth installment of anything been worthwhile? How fortuitous that you’re about to unpack ‘Hellraiser: Judgment’ in this cramped office. New characters! You’ve gotta love The Auditor. Also, this one has a sense of humor! Sharing jokes from this film with those stuffy executives is actually why you lost your old job. Significant as the last film in the series before it was all rebooted, the end of an era. You want to hold space and recognize how major this entry is, as personally significant as your marriage. If anything the ‘Hellraiser’ series teaches you to set expectations, be realistic, embrace “what is.” This backfires, as your wife doesn’t appreciate the comparison of your marriage to the “direct-to-video” tenth installment of a supernatural horror franchise.
The final film here to have a theatrical release, you use ‘Hellraiser’ entry number four to illustrate creativity and potential. The multiple time period plot device sees this film oscillate between the 1790s, current day and centuries into the future with scenes set aboard a space station. However, it’s Adam Scott’s presence that you use as an illustrative point. “Look where he started, and now look at him! He’s Adam Scott! Just like our marriage, we have potential to grow.” Both the therapist and your wife encourage moving away from vague meaningless metaphors. You at least point to the canine Cenobite as justification for potentially adopting a pet. Your wife vetoes the idea, citing every dead houseplant in your cramped one-bedroom apartment.
The sixth film has the best ending of the franchise, hands down. They bring back Ashley Laurence, an actress from the earliest roots of the franchise! What a fantastic return. The therapist’s patience is tried as you fast-forward to the finale, making an illustrative point on finishing strong, a.k.a. seeing this marriage through to the end. Your wife asks you to skip the acupuncture scenes as she has a fear of needles. You ask her “How could you have a fear of needles? I talk about Pinhead all the time!” She explains that this is exactly the kind of disconnect that brought you both here, how you aren’t ever listening to her. You try to comprehend what she’s saying but you’re too distracted by the appearance of Dean Winters in this film. Isn’t he the Allstate insurance “Mayhem” guy in those commercials? That is so cool!
Surely your wife is going to enjoy this one, the eighth ‘Hellraiser’ with retro “cyber” qualities. You cite the early web aesthetic, the RPG plot and 2000s computer software design as nostalgic reference points. “You had to have one of those Nokia brick phones at one point, right babe?” you ask, tenderly attempting any connection over shared life experience. You receive no response. Maybe it’s because Henry Cavill appears in this film. Huge trigger in your relationship. She once mentioned that she found his chiseled jawline attractive, which led to a 47 hour jealousy fit where you drove into the desert and wrecked her car. But surely, you’ve changed! Henry Cavill has aged and you’ve grown too: the entire episode would totally last under a day now.
You really insist on the fifth entry as one your wife will enjoy. You cite the influences and tone: it’s like ‘Se7en’ meets David Lynch meets ‘Law & Order,’ to which your wife reminds you that she isn’t interested in any of the above. “I like Christmas movies and documentaries. Where have you been during our marriage?” She says you ignore her interests, but your attention is pulled by how particularly dark and murky this ‘Hellraiser’ entry is. You love it. You remind the therapist, “This director Scott Derrickson went on to make one of those ‘Doctor Strange’ films! Maybe I can direct a film in the MCU one day.” The therapist asks how your work as a data entry clerk will manifest into this brand new, never-before-mentioned goal. She elaborates on a concept known as “delusions of grandeur” but you’re too busy drawing the Lament Configuration on old TGI Friday’s napkins you found crammed in your pocket.
You warn your wife and therapist ahead of time: this will be a controversial take. You reveal that you do not particularly enjoy the very first ‘Hellraiser’ film. Expecting a gasp or at least a raised eyebrow, your exhausted wife stares at you while the overly-patient therapist politely looks down. “It just isn’t for me!” you exclaim, diving into how the film makes you feel physically ill when you see The Chatterer, or how Butterball reminds you of being bullied during your obese youth. You wish something would cut through the silence. Light moves in a square along the carpet of the still office, an afternoon lost trying to translate your love for this franchise into a workable resolution to your marriage. Your wife gently sobs. Perhaps it is because she loves the first ‘Hellraiser’ movie too much and your lower ranking is so controversial. Yes, that must be it.
“Perhaps this is the most important entry because it’s the reboot, which is exactly what I’d like to do to our marriage: give it a reboot!” This line doesn’t go over as well as you thought it would. Never mind that you can barely see what is going on in this dimly lit installment. You appeal to your wife’s Croatian roots by reminding her that famed actor Goran Visnjic is in this film. Also you mention Hiam Abass from ‘Succession’ appearing here, citing happier times when you both watched the HBO series together. Or rather, she watched the series and you occasionally looked over while digesting other lengthy horror franchises. The therapist calmly explains that life isn’t like a film franchise, there are no “reboots” and that instead you should focus on being grateful for each individual day, one step at a time. She says something else but you don’t hear: you’re busy checking travel details after impulsively booking a second honeymoon to Thailand without informing your wife. It’s fine, her retirement savings can cover the trip.
Sequel number three reminds you of the early days in your relationship: meeting in the big city and being out all night. Those warehouse dance scenes remind you of partying past dawn, plus the rotating Pillar of Souls conjures the museums and art shows you used to frequent as a nascent couple. What happened? What changed? How much do people transform over the years? Suddenly, you are strangers in bed together, performing cosplay for a facsimile of a life that felt right years ago. The flashing sliver of insight poofs away like smoke, that burst of introspection quickly ameliorated by remembering the “epic kills” in this entry. “There’s a DJ that’s literally killed by flying CDs! And then he becomes a Cenobite that shoots lethal compact discs! Can you believe it? So wicked cool.” At this point, your wife is packing her belongings while the therapist is urging you to stop talking about ‘Hellraiser’ and perhaps book a solo session.
You save most of the presentation for the second film, your favorite in the series. What’s not to love about it? It’s surreal, it retains most of the original cast, it feels like an M.C. Escher painting mixed with ‘Alice in Wonderland’ – a great improvement on the first, in your humble opinion. “Progress is possible! We can move forward, like the transition from the first ‘Hellraiser’ to the second!” You say this to an empty room, your wife having left long ago while the therapist uses an adjoining office for the next patient. You wish rattling hooked chains would fly from another dimension to rip you apart, just like the victims in these films. Your heart feels strung up and tortured, a pain worse than anything those eternal Cenobites can inflict. Like all conflicts of your life, you squash any emotion down, only to somehow stumble through another day. You make a gameplan: if your wife is home upon your return, get ready to win her back by breaking down the ‘Hellraiser’ comic books instead. Yes indeed, that’s exactly the ticket. Use the graphic novels to get your point across! You genius. Pinhead can tear your soul apart, but not your marriage.
Ken Addleburg may have been written as a comic relief character who has a borderline incomprehensible accent of indeterminate origin, but he’s still arguably the most responsible and well-adjusted adult in the “Home Movies” universe. That doesn’t mean he’s anti-fun, though—he just knows his moshing etiquette. He knows that willingly jumping in the pit means consenting to getting a bit roughed up. He also knows that deliberately targeting people outside the pit with your flailing limbs is a dick move.
Josie Small doesn’t know what crowdkilling is due to the fact that she’s a literal infant. Her only concerns are eating, sleeping, and shoving marbles up her nose. There will come a day where she’ll be able to comprehend the fact that she exists and look for a way to cope with it just like the rest of us. But it’s unlikely she’ll find that solace in crowdkilling. If anything, she’ll become an unfulfilled artist like her mom and brother.
Performing arts camp counselors Mike and Miguel are voiced by John Flansburgh and John Linnell of They Might Be Giants. If you see someone crowdkilling at a TMBG show, either they drunkenly stumbled into the wrong venue or the end times really are upon us. Either way, Mike and Miguel wouldn’t approve.
Mr. Lynch is about as square as they come. Can you imagine a middle-aged elementary school teacher with a pencil-thin mustache and a bowtie going anywhere near a hardcore or metalcore show? He wouldn’t condone a harmless circle pit, let alone crowdkilling. Just seeing a kid in an Asking Alexandria t-shirt would be enough to make him start lobbying for stricter dress codes.
Paula Small is a single mom raising a baby and an eight-year-old on a teacher’s salary (when she has a job at all, that is). You think she wants to go anywhere near a hardcore show after a long day of putting food on the table? You think she wants to be involved in crowdkilling discourse? She’s far more likely to go home, have a glass of wine, and go to bed before 10. And you know what? Good for her. Leave her alone.
Dr. Fizzel is an anger management counselor (one voiced by the late, great Mitch Hedberg, no less)—so he strongly opposes violence in all its forms. He hates crowdkilling and he’ll be sure to let you know it. Let’s be real—he probably loves Fugazi. But much like Fugazi, he may come off as a bit sanctimonious for some. To make matters worse, he often talks over his patients. Still, you can tell his heart is in the right place.
Like Dr. Fizzel, Nurse Kirkman is a medical professional. Wait—school nurses have to take the Hippocratic Oath, right? Well, assuming they do, she’d never openly condone crowdkilling. She already has to deal with puke, snot, scraped knees, and probably more puke. The last thing she needs is kids spin-kicking each other in the face at recess. However, she might quietly make an exception so long as Coach McGuirk is the one on the receiving end.
At first glance, Cynthia seems like your run-of-the-mill ballet kid. But she’s actually quite active in her local alternative music scene. More specifically, she works as a choreographer for the metal band Scäb. That said, she clearly takes her craft very seriously, and probably wouldn’t support dancing being used as a means to hurt bystanders. The only thing she kills is Brendon’s ability to not make a complete fool of himself.
Dwayne fronts the previously mentioned band Scäb—and he’s actually pretty chill as far as metalheads go. If anything, Dwayne’s liable to get crowdkilled while simply trying to cross his arms and nod his head to the music in peace. The dude is all about the vibes. Plus, he wrote a whole-ass rock opera about Franz Kafka. Do you honestly think anyone who will go to bat for crowdkilling has any idea who Franz Kafka even is?
Brendon’s dad Andrew is a strange case. He’s not exactly the most present father in the world, but he’s not a complete deadbeat either. He does fun things with his son when he’s not busy being a lawyer, but he’s also content to peace out of that son’s life for long periods of time. This will probably give Brendon a complex that pushes him towards the punk scene in the first place. As for Andrew himself, he’s unlikely to defend crowdkilling—especially in the legal sense. He mostly deals in out-of-court litigation.
Just because Junior Addleburg has the exact same voice as his father doesn’t mean he always shares his old man’s values. To be fair to Junior, he’s a pretty good kid. In fact, he’d probably be the first one to help you up if you were to fall down in the pit. But his peers aren’t the best influence on him. You just know Eugene is filling his squishy little head with some crap about how crowdkilling is just part hardcore—and anyone who doesn’t like it doesn’t belong in the scene.
Melissa Robbins is undoubtedly the most reasonable and level-headed of the main trio of “Home Movies” characters—under normal circumstances, at least. Her rationality tends to go out the window when things get personal. She’d never be okay with crowdkilling strangers. But if you’ve wronged her in the past and she spots you just outside the pit, you’d better fucking watch yourself.
Main protagonist Brendon Small is a rather naïve kid, but he’s never been one to advocate unnecessary violence. That said, he is still a fictionalized version of his creator/voice actor—who fronts his own cartoon heavy metal band, let’s not forget. So, Brendon has definitely been around crowdkilling in his life. He won’t openly support it, but he will absolutely film the chaos if he thinks it’ll make for good b-roll.
The thing about Clarice is that while she’s not actively malicious—far from it, in fact—she tends to just smile and go along with whatever Jimmy Monet (her douchey mooch of a boyfriend) wants. She won’t explicitly defend crowdkilling, but she also won’t say a word as Jimmy laughs at Dwayne for catching an unwarranted elbow to the eye. To her credit, though, she at least had the good sense to ditch Jimmy in the end.
