When Hart Met Marcus
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Danzig Devil’s Plaything
Everybody loves a good deathmatch. It stretches right the way back to biblical times, when a scrawny young upstart named David pitted himself against the hulking Goliath and somehow upset the odds despite it looking like a done deal on paper. Folk love nothing more than to watch two gladiators knocking seven barrels of shit from each other whilst cheering on from the relative safety of the stands. Freddy Krueger talked a lot of shit and, as a result, Jason requested that he put his money where his flapping mouth was. More recently, Justin Bieber laid the gauntlet down to Anne Frank, presumably because she has been dead for decades and wouldn’t kick his puny little ass. Actually he just mentioned her name but that, in itself, was reason for her to reanimate and put him in his place. Miserable little turd.
Anyhoots, my point is, that folk love a good rumble in the jungle. It’s in our nature. In epochs passed we had gladiatorial rings set up to sort the wheat from the chaff and tickets sold faster than a Hannah Montana concert reunion. The reason for this is simple, we are all but a step from being primate. Indeed, some of us even resemble chimps. The battle royale is an opportunity for us to hedge our bets, sit back and watch the carnage, without running risk of receiving a wayward bunch of fives or having our underwear fed to our sphincters. We love a good brawl.
There have been famous nights. Muhammad Ali and George Foreman went toe to toe and gave us one never to forget whereas, last I heard, The Muppets were planning to head down to Sesame Street and kick the living shit out of Oscar the Grouch. Kermit, it’s time to pledge your allegiance. Sit on the fence and Beaker will be hitting you with a haymaker before you know it. Turns out that Dr Bunsen is a most formidable trainer. See, even puppets love a good free-for all.
I, myself, am somewhat partial to skirmish. For the past seven weeks I have shared a room with MMA hard man Matt Horwich and this has afforded me the chance to see inside a great fighter’s head and dig around some. We have spent a majority of that time pitting super villains against each other in theoretical one-off match ups. We do so because this is what men do behind closed doors. That testosterone is a bitch, negate to channel it and you end up listening to John Legend and eating salad when you should be wrestling a well done steak to Danzig. Fighting supplies the perfect release.
A few weeks back I was introduced to a colorful character by the name of Hart Fisher. He instantly stood out from the crowd as it only took a picosecond to deduce that this guy had no filter. More to the point, he chooses not to wear it. He is one of these masterful beasts who dislikes bullshit of any form and is of the opinion that folk need take him as he is and, should they decide to pass, then that’s their business. I find it refreshing to converse with characters such as this as they don’t mince their words and you always get an honest response, like it or not.
It fast become apparant that Fisher is something of a swinging dick in the industry as he said as much openly. He has made a name for himself as the one dude who never lies down and accepts defeat and, should you need the proof in this pudding, he has successfully sued Marvel. Nuff said? I believe so. He is a crusader for the little man’s liberty, fighting to keep our industry diverse and not allow the net to close in on us without a skirmish. If he’d have been alive in biblical times then I have no doubt it would be he loading up David’s slingshot whilst reading the upstart the riot act. The horror industry damned well needs a man like Hart Fisher to keep its equilibrium.
We chewed the fat while his classic automobile was used for a key scene involving Baby Sister and Big Brother, and explored a plethora of different topics in our brief time together. He informed me of his intention to “own horror” and I respected that bloody-minded drive. You see, without it, we are empty receptacles, none of us likely to ever reach our zenith. There’s a vast difference between a cocky man and one with belief. Fisher falls into the latter. He fights the good fight so that we don’t have to. Should achieving martyrdom be the only way for this reality to become assured then so be it.
For those of you still uninitiated with Hart D Fisher, allow me to enlighten some. He has been something of an enigma in the industry over the past two decades. To the unscrupulous, he is a thorn in the side whereas, to those of us who have felt the corporate cock sliding in dry and milking us for all we are worth, he is a breath of fresh meadow air. He has been referred to as the “The most dangerous man in comics” and even dubbed “Scariest Man in America” with an infamous appearance on The Sally Jesse Rachael Show providing clear indication that he takes absolutely no prisoners when it comes to taking the misinformed industry bigwigs to task for exploiting those in pain. On that occasion he was defending his controversial comic book under his self-started Boneyard Press umbrella which included an unauthorized biography of Jeffery Dahmer. This provoked protest marches, death threats and law suits which were later dropped.
He has suffered more than his fair share of heartbreak during his development as an artist and would be forgiven for being a tad darker than most after what he has been made privy to. Such atrocities would have taken many less plucky characters, chewed them up, shat them out and then trodden the feces into pavement cracks but not Hart. He found a way in which to use every painful memory to spark a revolution against the tyrannous and sank his incisors into the industry’s rump in the process. With the determination of a rabid pit bull on beta blockers, he has continued to wrestle the meat. Some question his outspoken demeanor whereas at least he has something worthwhile to say. If he were as drab as magnolia drapes then it would just be a load of hot air but he chooses his battles wisely and makes his allegiances in exactly the same manner.
Danzig How The Gods Kill
Recently he has been responsible for the augmentation of American Horrors, the world’s only fully uncut 24/7/365 horror channel and his revolution is already televised. His aim is to gift quality horror entertainment across numerous platforms, appealing to multiple demographics and age brackets and the channel does exactly that. He is also ferociously metal and a close friendship with Glenn Danzig and long-running business association with his production company Verotik attest to this. The reason for this is that horror and metal go hand-in-hand, Gump would likely call them peas and carrots, whereas I’d prefer to refer to them as bloody gauntlets and cuirass. Small wonder then that Matt Farnsworth showed up on Hart’s radar as he loves nothing more than to champion a worthy cause, just like Keeper.
The first time I met Hart he was wearing his Orphan Killer t-shirt with great pride and his admiration for what Matt Farnsworth has created was abundantly clear. You see, many filmmakers take liberties with the exclusive chances they are afforded whereas Matt grabs them with two bloody fists and doesn’t let it go to his head. Instead, he treats it like an honor and doesn’t fritter any opportunities that come his way, whilst remaining unpandering to the misguided suits who believe they know best as to how he should ply his trade. He hasn’t been created by the media, instead he makes his films in spite of them and follows his own vision to the letter. It’s the only true way forward Grueheads, horror has had its doldrums but this needn’t be the case anymore with folk like this putting the passion back in passive.
Matt offered a role to Hart in his upcoming slasher sequel, Bound X Blood and didn’t need ask twice. Fisher snapped up this succulent sirloin and masticated the fuck out of it on the spot, with fangs gnarled and claws outstretched. What better showdown than that of America’s most wanted and the most notorious of killers, Marcus Miller? It’s a proposition worth salivating over and outright carnage is downright assured. Two juggernauts knocking seven barrels of bloody hell out of each other with only one left standing come the end. No tap outs here, mercy is superfluous. It is approaching time to pull up your ringside seats Grueheads and I offer my personal guarantee that this is one titanic clash you won’t want to be missing.
To sins already committed…raise a chalice,
Sponsored by @TheOrphanKiller
Performances by @MattFarnsworth @DieannFoster
Cruel Art by @MattFarnsworth
Prose and scribing by @RiversofGrue
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