On my way to class last week, I passed two professors outside of Gerlinger Hall arguing about the effectiveness of the colon. This overheard conversation snippet intrigued me for a few reasons. First, I thought they had to be English teachers coming from the library arguing about punctuation, but then I realized it was equally plausible that they could be middle-aged men trying to reassure one another about the necessity of a looming colonoscopy exam.

It struck me as odd that professors should need to talk about something as basic as a colon, whether it was in regards to a pesky punctuation mark or a digestion essential. It hit me a few days later that often the simplest things in life are the ones we never cease to talk about, no matter how many other more important topics exist.

This is the reason why The White Stripes will always be Jack White’s most recognized form of fame. On the surface, The White Stripes is a two-piece garage band from Detroit composed of Jack and Meg White, playing guitar and drums, respectively. The White Stripes’s biggest hit, “Seven Nation Army,” is chanted at seemingly every sporting event in the world by thousands of people because of its simplistic melody and unifying motif of “We can’t be stopped.”

The simplicity is undeniable, yet the exclusion of the rest of Jack White’s career is a shame and a mistake for White’s inevitable inscription into the annals of rock history.

Jack White is the most innovative person in music on Earth, yet he will always be remembered for a single groundbreaking song. In reality, he should be remembered for his unending contribution to the fight against the decline of album sales. I’m in no way saying he is the greatest musician ever (or that “Seven Nation Army” is undeserving of its popularity), but the man who Rolling Stone magazine once correctly dubbed “rock & roll’s Willy Wonka” has done more for the struggling record industry than anyone else.

His latest music video is, in typical Jack White fashion, an atypical one. “That Black Bat Licorice” is a three-in-one video which allows users to control what version appears onscreen by pressing various keys. The standard version is an animated video directed by James Blagden; White and an ancient Egyptian star in the video, which eventually finds White cutting off his own tongue.

By holding the “3” key, a live-action video directed by White appears in which he pensively watches as he is taunted by a dancing man in a George Washington mask. White also finds the time to rock out on air violin in a rocking chair with a smirk threatening to creep through at any moment.

The third form, shown while holding the “B” key, is of a group of people headbanging to the song like there’s no tomorrow.

All three videos are synchronized, revealing an intricately layered production, as exemplified in the tongue severing sequence. The headbang version foreshadows the cut by focusing on a table saw, as White brings the box cutter closer to his tongue in the animated scene. After the tongue is cut, White holds a potato chip resembling his severed tongue in the live-action version.

This is far from the first innovative musical innovation White has created. In 2001, White began the independent record label Third Man Records, but it only truly became a force in 2009 whena physical store was opened in Nashville, Tennessee. Since then, White and Third Man have pushed the boundaries of what is possible for a seven or 12-inch piece of vinyl and made buying music worthwhile in a world overrun by iTunes, illegal downloads and free streaming services.

Lazaretto, White’s second solo album, was released last year on vinyl as the “Ultra LP.” The disc itself is overloaded with unique features, but the most unbelievable feature is the hologram of a spinning angel that appears on the vinyl when caught in the correct light.

The Ultra LP broke Pearl Jam’s 20-year record for first week vinyl sales (Vitalogy) and was 2014’s best selling vinyl album with 150,000 units sold in the world.

The list of White’s eccentric record creations include:

The world’s fastest record pressing
The Rolling record store
In-store recording booth
Lazaretto Ultra LP
Quarterly Vault packages
Liquid Filled Record
A 3 RPM record with every single released on Third Man Records
Triple Decker Record
Glow-in-the-dark Halloween singles
A peach-scented record
On-label hidden tracks
13-inch Broken Boy Soldiers LP
Flexi-disc helium balloon exclusive release of “Freedom At 21”
The incredibly ambitious Rise and Fall of Paramount Records series
Part 2 of the Paramount series
A 3D virtual concert experience app
The Greeting Card Gatefold Record
Reggie Watts hair record
Pop Up Postcards from the Rolling Record Store

White will hopefully continue to add to his long list of creations, creating an even greater urgency for his legacy to be remembered as more than just the composer of “Seven Nation Army.” Once again, there is so much more to be known of White than the surface-level information.

By digging deeper into the history of The White Stripes, we find that Jack and Meg are not actually brother and sister, contrary to what Jack tells the press. In 1996, John Gillis married Megan White, taking her last name. In 2000, John White divorced Megan White. The White Stripes debut album was released in 1999 and the two proceeded to make De Stijl the year of the divorce and began touring as a “sibling” band to reduce awkward media exposure.

Icky Thump is the final White Stripes album, but is far from the final Jack White record. White is also involved in The Raconteurs, The Dead Weather and of course, his solo career.

Kobe Bryant is often remembered for his 81 point scoring outburst in 2006, but his greatness, ultimately, will be determined by the five championship rings he owns. “Seven Nation Army” is Jack White’s 81 point outburst, but his career should be remembered for his championship rings, that being: The White Stripes as a game changing two-piece Detroit rock band, The Raconteurs, The Dead Weather, his solo career and most importantly for being the Willy Wonka of records, which he continually proves himself to be.

Picture the intro to Woody Allen’s classic film Manhattan. Gershwin’s “Rhapsody In Blue” builds to fanfare while Allen, stumbling over his words and repeating himself, attempts to properly capture the majesty of New York City. Soon, the neurotic and disillusioned star fills the screen with philosophical anecdotes about life, love and death.

Father John Misty (a persona which Josh Tillman, the former drummer of Fleet Foxes, created after a hallucinatory weekend spent at Laurel Canyon) creates a similar atmosphere on his out of order concept album, I Love You, Honeybear. Tillman makes jokes about society, and sarcastic, sometimes snarky statements about intelligence to provide a rough-edged atmosphere that emphasizes the impact of his romantic sentiments.

I Love You, Honeybear is his second studio album, following 2012’s Fear Fun.

The title track begins the album with a sardonic ballad that alternates between praising the precious seconds with his wife, while anticipating the fall of mankind. The pivots between romantic and apocalyptic are abrupt:

“My love, you’re the one I want to watch the ship go down with / The future can’t be real, I barely know how long a moment is / Unless we’re naked, getting high on the mattress / While the global market crashes / As death fills the streets with garden variety oblivious / You grab my hand and say in ‘I told you so’ voice: ‘It’s just how we expected… But everything is fine / Don’t give in to despair / because I love you, honeybear.”

“True Affection” flows like an LCD Soundsystem song. It seems like it should have no place on the album, especially following “Chateau Lobby #4 (Two Virgins),” which features a mariachi trumpet solo to celebrate the first time Tillman and his wife consummated their relationship.

“Bored in the USA” is the emotional climax of the story, as Tillman uses his serene vocals to power a song dripping with despair. He sends hopeless prayers to “White Jesus” and “President Jesus,” asking to be saved from being “Bored in the USA.” A laugh-track plays as he recites a list of problems, which buries them under a layer of triviality. After discovering that marriage is more than a “passionate obligation to a roommate,” Tillman has finally come to understand that most people’s biggest problemin the U.S.A. is the fight against boredom.

The album concludes with the simplistic beauty of “I Went To The Store One Day.” The typical Hollywood ending common in so many of Woody Allen’s films makes an appearance here as well, but it doesn’t make the song any less likeable. This song describes the type of romance most people can only dream of, and it all began with a simple trip to the store.

Prior to the release of the album, Tillman worked with psychoacoustics researcher Casey Wescott to create a new album preview service called Signal to Audio Preview (SAP).  The SAP is free to download, but plays like the soulless skeleton of every song. Since all of the detail and emotion is stripped away, the SAP is priced correctly. The stripped-down versions sound like a Nintendo 64 cover of the songs as the lyrics are replaced by a synthesizer mimicking Tillman’s harmonies in robotic form. Essentially, it’s the equivalent of watching Avatar as a silent, black and white, pre-production storyboard sketch.

While the idea is an interesting approach to artist cooperation in combating free downloads, the concept falls short in practice. Tillman’s lyrics and vocals are the selling point of I Love You, Honeybear, and without them, there is little joy in listening.

Follow Craig Wright on Twitter @Wgwcraig

Does buying a pre-packaged, mass-produced, red foil-covered heart-shaped box of stale chocolate really prove to your significant other that you’re the Heaven-sent soulmate with whom they are destined to spend an unquestioned eternity? Well how about the unforgettable gift of a monstrous five pound gummy bear? Should February’s halftime show really be a day that forces lovers to buy gifts for one another simply because there was a chivalristic man named Valentine in the Middle Ages who spread love?

No.

It’s funny how the two most consumer driven holidays are the ones that are based on sharing love with others. History.com predicts that there will be one billion cards sent this year, second only to Christmas, when 2.6 billion cards are sent. Another statistic: 85 percent of Valentines are purchased by women.

For those of you who hate the mere concept of Valentine’s Day, this playlist may be enough to make you laugh at the heartbreak others are sure to go through. The lonely and heartbroken victims of the universe’s cruel and twisted sense of humor should use this playlist as a reminder that heartbreak is common, and to understand that yes, it is a lonely world.

Heartbreak and denial will be in an overabundance tonight, so remember the words of Craig Finn of The Hold Steady: “Heartbreak hurts but you can dance it off.” If nobody Choo-Choo-Chooses You tonight, or your heart gets unfairly crushed, don’t worry. It gets better.

This playlist is an over-dramatization of the stages my brain went through after a harsh break-up earlier in the year. Sure, I burned some things and laughed hysterically to Wilco’s “Via Chicago” after she dumped me, but these songs helped remind me that heartbreak is a part of growing up, dammit!

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Feel free to comment with your favorite breakup/anti-romance songs.

(For a more sincere crate of songs to play this holiday, check out resident romanticist Emerson Malone’s playlist)

Follow Craig Wright on Twitter: @wgwcraig

Admit it. You’re reading this article because you saw the picture of live-action role player dressed up in homemade medieval garb, armed with a foam sword, shields, spear, armor and helmet.

The Belegarth Medieval Combat Society is a nerdy sport — plain and simple. Anyone who competes in it and everyone who has ever walked past a practice and shaken their head in disapproval is bound to echo that sentiment.

Here’s the catch: These nerds are immune to the teasing and some evenly secretly enjoy it.

Jordan Whiteley, realm leader of Eugene community Belegarth group Baalbek, admits that he initially discovered the sport of Belegarth after watching the infamous LARP scene in Role Models and set out on a quest to heckle nerds. After talking with the participants, he attempted battle and became hooked.

The battle eventually changed his life.

“It’s pretty chill and it’s not as nerdy as it seems,” Whiteley said. “There are people who get hurt all the time. I was attracted to how wrong I was about it. I had a lot of presumptions going into it, and I was totally wrong, and I’ve been super addicted to it for a long time.”

Growing up as a half-black child in in Shelley, Idaho — an area he described as being filled with prejudice — Whiteley struggled. He says he didn’t connect well with people and couldn’t make friends. He eventually dropped out of high school. A group of Belegarth fighters accepted him into their group simply due to their shared interest in sword fighting. At the age of 17, he set out in a beat-up Chevy hippie van and toured the country with his newly adopted family who stopped only for Belegarth events.

At one point, the van broke down in Eugene and Whiteley connected with people who convinced him to move to Eugene. He did, and is currently enrolled in classes at Lane Community College, where he majors in sculpting. It’s a fitting major for Whiteley, since he crafts the majority of the foam weapons brandished on the Belegarth field. He has remained passionate about the sport through the tight-knit community of likeminded and accepting fighters at the University of Oregon.

“It’s like a family reunion, but not with your family, so it’s awesome,” Whiteley said.

Turnout for the sport has been on the decline this year. Last year, practices averaged an attendance of about 30 fighters.

At the start of this school year, the number was 10-12. Currently, attendance hovers around six participants. The UO Belegarth system is in a transitional period from the realm of Tir na n0g into the new realm of Baalbek. Generally, the group assembles on the Knight Library lawn, University Park on 24th or elsewhere around campus. As the weather improves, Whiteley hopes for increased attendance beyond the small but dedicated group of combatants willing to brave mud pits and overcast skies on Super Bowl Sunday.

“We’ve been out here when people can’t drive anymore because of how rainy it is, and we’re out here beating the crap out of each other,” said Jake “Tank” Sanchez. “I think it kind of immerses you more into the fighting.”

Sanchez received his nickname because, well, he’s built like a tank. A former high school football lineman, Sanchez has lost roughly 50 pounds since suiting up for battle. The physical nature of the sport produces a very demanding workout and serves as a great cross training sport during roller derby season for Sanchez. After battle, fighters recover in the cold as steam rises off their heads. They wear sweat-drenched, mud-caked clothing and exhale heavy, visible breaths that linger in the cold air.

“When you’re in the fight, there’s just so much coming at you,” Sanchez said. “You gotta worry about your footwork, where your weight is postured, what’s coming from the right of you, the left of you, behind you. If you’re in a team, if you’re working in a wall, it’s way more complicated than it looks, than we’re just out here just slapping each other with foam sticks. In a sense, it is full contact.”

Belegarth’s official rules emphasize safety as the number one priority, but it is far from a lackadaisical game. Thuds of successfully landed foam sword on flesh hits frequently echo into the otherwise silent air. Grappling (bear-hugging), kicks to an opponent’s shield and defensive equipment, and melee hits are all legal, as long as there’s no malicious intent to injure.

“Paintballing is fun, but being able to kick someone over with a shield and hit them with a sword is a bit more satisfying to me,” Sanchez said.

Jayme Lee, a.k.a. Missy Thalion, uses the battlefield as a chance to undertake a different persona. The chance to fully immerse herself in battle is one of the sport’s appeals, she says, but the avenue for venting aggression is therapeutic and more important.

“I was raised by three older brothers and my father,” Lee said. “(Belegarth) gives you a certain amount of aggression outlet need. You gotta let it out somewhere, and you know, rollin’ with the boys kinda lets you do that.”

There is no single reason for the people involved in Belegarth to continue practicing weekly, and there is no age limit for players to stop. Each individual finds a personal reason to continue practicing the sport.

Erin Stanton, 30, has been involved in Belegarth for four years, but only recently re-entered battle after watching his friends make fun of LARPers on TV. It aggravated him, and he stood up for the onscreen fighters and said, “You know, that guy is having a lot more fun than you are right now. That’s his version of fun, so who are you? We are extracting fun out of nothing.”

“It’s a crazy adrenaline rush,” Whiteley added. “I’ve almost blacked out from the amount of adrenaline I’ve gotten on the field and it’s awesome.”

For Whiteley, Belegarth represents overcoming a preconceived bias toward “nerds” – a demographic he now personally embraces. “This is where I’ve wanted to be and it’s not just because of sword fighting. Belegarth found me a new lifestyle,” he said. “I definitely have a completely different view on people and life because of this.”

Feel free to call the hard hitting sport “nerdy” if you want, but be prepared for the members of Belegarth to retort and offer a challenge. They have been called nerds so many times that Whiteley likens it to pleasant background music.

“We are totally nerds,” Evan “Shovel” Schlesinger said. “We will out-nerd you any day. Take us on. We might be nerds, but we will beat you to a pulp.”

Follow Craig Wright on Twitter @wgwcraig

The recent resurgence of late ’90s and early 2000s bands has had some interesting storylines, both good and bad. Sleater-Kinney returned as a hard rocking, politically charged band at the top of its game. Marilyn Manson remains as intriguing as ever, while Blink-182 engaged in an awkward PR fest that made Tom DeLonge force-quit the band.

Papa Roach is another popular 2000s emo-rock/rap group that launched its career with the song “Last Resort” in 2000. The suicide anthem is about bottoming out and wishing for a helping hand to pull singer Jacoby Shaddix up before he decides which method is best to end his life.

This new album, F.E.A.R. is the sound of emo-rock all grown up. Gone is the angst and the hatred intrinsic to youth; now Shaddix is matured and his music seems to focus on his concerns with marital stability. He pleads for forgiveness and strives for strength that is common among bands who have passed their primes. The rap-rock takes a backseat to overproduced instrumentation and grandiose lyrics that largely make the listener cringe at the sky-high aspirations Papa Roach had in creating this underwhelming album.

Even the song titles feel forced: “Hope For the Hopeless,” “Face Everything And Rise,” “Love Me Till It Hurts,” and “Broken As Me,” to name a few. Upon first listen, it sound like a divorce album and an attempt from Shaddix to use music to recover. To the contrary, Shaddix explained that his marriage has actually never been stronger in the Spotify F.E.A.R. commentary. How that could be ambiguous is odd, but the focus is more on making crowds chant the songs’ choruses, rather than contemplate their meaning.

The reason this album feels like a wasted effort is because the lyrical content no longer matches the music. The content on here is serious. These songs are about exorcising personal demons, saving a crumbling marriage and trying to connect with an adopted son, but it never feels interesting or relevant.

As uncomfortable as it is to say, it’s uninteresting to hear a band that emerged with a suicide anthem singing about Thanksgiving dinner topics, but on the flip side, maybe the message of recovery and hope will inspire fans who have faced similar problems in the past as a beacon of hope to “Face Everything and Rise.”

Certain bands have niche environments from which they shouldn’t stray. Bands that succeed are the ones that stick to their ideals. Sounds can change, styles can evolve, but a band that strays from its thesis statement rarely can be greeted with success. If Kurt Cobain would have changed Nirvana from moody grunge icons into a pure pop band, the entire fan base would have dissipated. Papa Roach has maintained its head-banging, guitar-slinging image, but it just doesn’t work anymore when the songs are written for the Hollywood ending.

Follow Craig Wright on Twitter @wgwcraig

Just saying the name Marilyn Manson is sure to cause mixed feelings among any group. To many, he is a freak who is still lingering in the shadows of fame after peaking in the late ’90s. For others, he is the artist who created a place for misfits to feel safe in their own skin. Regardless of opinion, Marilyn Manson thrived on controversy in a way that only someone who created his stage name by combining Marilyn Monroe and Charles Manson could.

Manson reached his maximum level of fame following the Columbine shooting in 1999. The media obsessed over his hellish stage show and lyrics illustrating drugs, sex and murder, and being portrayed as the Antichrist Superstar he claimed to be. Religious groups would often protest his concerts and raise hell about the hellraiser who threatened to invade their towns and corrupt the youth, much like what was believed to have happened to the Columbine gunmen.

As Manson himself stated, “If you’re an artist, your goal is to affect people, whether that’s in a negative way or a positive way. I think ultimately that is the role of the artist in a society.”

In a pleasingly ironic twist, the protests served as free press and showcased Manson as the prime counterculture icon. It also legitimized his music as a controversial form of art, the opposite of what it was meant to accomplish.

As a young kid, there’s no way to count the hours that my mom and I patiently waited while my brother scoured seemingly endless rows of CDs in the now defunct Sam Goody for Blink-182, Weezer or Green Day CDs. I always nervously dreaded reaching the end of the rock section and waiting in line at the register (buying CDs was actually common back then, believe it or not) because of the nightmarish cover artwork in the metal section that evoked instant terror for the children of the ‘90s. No matter how hard I tried to avoid it, Manson’s alien-like, red-eyed, soul stealing stare on the cover of Mechanical Animals was always there.

My parents, far from overprotective, banned his music from our house, with which my brother and I were fine. Like so much of the world, we dismissed Manson as a one-trick freak hellbent on instilling fear in others.

Upon learning of a new album, I jumped at the chance to review it, not because I am necessarily interested in his music, but because I was curious as to why he was still relevant. Without a decent record during the 2000s, I thought he had finally slipped away into the coffin of irrelevancy.

Within ten minutes of watching past interviews, my perception of Manson completely changed. Manson is as fascinating a person as he is a controversial performer. The first quote that stood out to me was his theory about his existence on Earth: “The Devil obviously has a great sense of humor, so that’s always my biggest inspiration, and if God exists, He obviously has a sense of humor or I wouldn’t be here.”

A well-spoken and incredibly intelligent individual with a knack for dry humor, Manson claims that this is the album when he finally paid the Devil back for granting him the fame he has experienced in his career. Also important, this is the album when he discovered that the blues spawned rock and roll.

The influence of the blues is clear on this album. While elements of heavy metal still make occasional appearances, the majority of the album is a more polished product focused on the sleazy sounding fuzz bass and Manson’s haunting voice.

The Pale Emperor, Manson’s ninth studio album, begins with “Killing Strangers,” led by a fuzz bass riff and slow drumbeat that sounds like a trudge through heavy mud, before opening up into a warning that “You better run because we got guns,” and “We’re killing strangers so we don’t kill the ones that we love.”

Had this song been the one featured in The Matrix instead of “Rock Is Dead,” it is unlikely his career could have been resuscitated, but times have changed, and especially since the popularization of rap, music about murder has become much less controversial.

Next is “Deep Six,” a radio-ready single about the grave that harnesses Manson’s guttural bark as a point of exclamation, rather than the focus of the song. “Third Day Of A Seven Day Binge” serves as a grinding blues song that he claims ”Will keep a lot of girls through college because if they’re strippers, they’ll really like to dance to this song. It’s not fair to make beats that confuse strippers.”

“The Devil Beneath My Feet” shows Manson aggravatedly talking through his thoughts about God and the Devil. “Don’t need a motherfucker looking down on me/ At least I know, wherever I go I got the Devil beneath my feet.”

The Pale Emperor is a strong album. If I were to tell my younger self, the one cowering from Mechanical Animals, that one day I would publicly praise Marilyn Manson’s music, I would probably have hugged my mom and cried about the hopeless future I had waiting for me. This is one occasion where I am glad to be wrong.

This is an example of “never judge a book by its cover.” His album covers actually scared me away, and in my defiance to be unlike Marilyn Manson, I never took the time to think about what he stands for, or more importantly, why he acts the way he does.

When describing his career, Manson once said, “I hope that this is America’s worst nightmare, ya know, I hope that we can disrupt the regimented lifestyle that people love to set up for themselves. That’s what rock-and-roll was intended to be and that’s what I am and that’s what I’m always going to be and the day that I’m not is the day that I quit.”

He hasn’t quit yet, so he obviously still believes in what he is doing. To date, he has sold approximately 50-million albums worldwide, so his fans haven’t quit on him either. This album is the type that will more likely than not reintroduce old fans to his music, and quite possibly, be the one that converts the skeptics into listeners. At the very least, he deserves the long-awaited respect from non-fans.

Follow Craig Wright on Twitter @wgwcraig

It’s no secret that the rock world has long been dominated by men. But the three-piece riot grrrl group Sleater-Kinney has reascended to the throne of rock royalty and sounds as fresh as ever.

At the height of its career, the band dispersed for nearly ten years for unknown reasons. The red velvet curtain on the cover of 2005’s The Woods was drawn in what was believed to be Sleater-Kinney’s final bow. Now, the curtain signifies the end of an act rather than the end of an era.

Sleater-Kinney left off in peak form. The last album found singer-guitarist Corin Tucker transforming her blood curdling banshee howl into a forcefield of sheer power on “The Fox.” Carrie Brownstein’s guitar playing reached Pete Townshend-levels of intensity (high kicks and windmills included), while Janet Weiss’s drumming continued to constantly amaze.

Brownstein spent much of her break alongside Fred Armisen in a tromp through the oddities of Portlandia. Tucker formed the Corin Tucker band in 2010. Drummer Janet Weiss recorded and toured with Quasi and Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks. In 2011, Brownstein and Weiss reunited for the self-titled album, Wild Flag. The band was short-lived, but paved the way for a Sleater-Kinney reunion.

No Cities to Love is a 32 minute, 10 song outing which visits portions of rock’s sonic spectrum with the power of The Who, the riffs of Led Zeppelin, the sound of what The Strokes probably wish they sounded like and unapologetic lyrics delivered by a more mature sounding Tucker.

While seemingly simple, so much of Sleater-Kinney’s music fits together like an intricate jigsaw puzzle. The interlocking guitars are tuned in drop C sharp to substitute for the lack of a bass guitarist. The thunderous drums fill any blank spaces and also bolster the heaviest moments, while Brownstein and Tucker’s vocals provide the canvas for their either politically charged or just plain rock ‘n’ roll fun songs.

Clearly, Brownstein’s time in Portland has taught her a thing or two about hipsterisms. The band attempts to “invent (its) own kind of obscurity” on “A New Wave” by dying to prove they lived the lives they did. The brief elegy of “Eyes are the only witness / die to prove we ever lived this” relates to the succeeding song “No Anthems” through the idea of not having a connection to the past and that “There are no anthems and all I can hear are the echoes and the ring.”

On “No Anthems,” Tucker reduces the vibrato and reels off the lyrics with a whispered bravado that builds as the song progresses. “Hey Darling” hits with an addictive chorus and guitar line that can be looped for hours on end.

It didn’t take long for an album of the year frontrunner to emerge. The bar has been set high for 2015.

Follow Craig Wright on Twitter @wgwcraig

Glass shards from a wrecked car’s passenger window rain around a woman in slow motion. Unintelligible hysterical screaming gradually becomes prominent and clear. Then returns the woman suspended in fear from her nightmare and back into the real world.

The first shot of The Babadook informs the viewer instantly that there is no time to rest while the Babadook is lurking nearby.

Amelia suffers from crippling night terrors due to the death of her husband who died while driving her to the hospital to give birth. Their son Samuel, now 6, struggles to sleep due to the presence of what he believes to be a monster in his room.

Both mother and son grow increasingly tired due to their own distinct form of insomnia. Tension builds at work for Amelia, while Samuel’s collection of homemade darts, catapults and bow and arrows to combat monsters earns him an expulsion from school.

After being awoken from a nightmare again, Samuel asks his mother to read a book to help him sleep. His only choice was a red book with a shadowed figure on the cover, titled Mister Babadook. There is no author on the book, no publishing company, no year. It seems to have magically appeared in the house.

Instead of being a lighthearted children’s story, it describes how a creature with Freddy Krueger-like nails was once allowed inside and will make terror reign with a force of evil that can never be stopped.

The TV is as much a character in the film as any of the humans. Amelia’s late-night channel flipping builds discomfort as it is filled with Georges Méliès homages, old horror movie clips, disturbing images, and the threat of what Mister Babadook will do to the family.

In her directorial debut, Jennifer Kent utilizes every trick in the book from past horror movies, but eliminates the poor, over-trodden version of the clichés to create new, subtle terror. Where most films use the soundtrack as emphasis of fear, The Babadook uses little scene building music.

The horror is strictly visual and mental.

It shows everything the audience needs to see, while more importantly, forcing you to imagine how you would react in the same scenario. It inspires dread of what’s coming next and simultaneously engages you to the point of being unable to shut your eyes in fear.

The insanity of the film is contagious. Every action will force you to gasp or laugh uncomfortably out of fear. This film does a great job of building and maintaining tension for extended periods of time.

I left with a stress headache, strained eyes and the desire to walk right back into the theater and watch it again. Towards the end of The Conjuring, it began to feel like an action film that happens to be scary. The Babadook remained a horror film from the uncomfortable opening shot to the unbelievably disconcerting finale.

I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight.

Follow Craig Wright on Twitter @wgwcraig

Oregon is preparing for the first-ever College Football Playoff Game in history. The Ducks are fighting for a spot in the National Championship game in Dallas, but standing in the way is reigning National Champion Florida State and its 29-game win streak. This is the team’s seventh time playing in the Rose Bowl game, and looks to improve its 2-4 record. Casual football fans understand the implications of this game and that the battle between Heisman winners Marcus Mariota and Jameis Winston promises to entertain until the final play.

What only the die hard Duck fans know though, is the pregame playlist is necessary to spur the team to victory. Some are classics, others viral sensations, but all are important to becoming an upper-tier fan.

Mighty Oregon

Oregon scores so often that you can probably hear the fight song while channel surfing, but knowing the lyrics is essential to every true fan. Lasting about as long as an Oregon touchdown drive, Mighty Oregon serves as the fuel for Puddle’s push ups after scoring.

Supwitchugirl – “I Love My Ducks”                           

The Pac-10 title and Rose Bowl berth became an undeniable destiny for Oregon following the victory over USC on Halloween night in 2009, meaning the scent of roses hung thick in the air. Supwitchugirl, a band composed of three UO students, decided to share with the world what being a Duck fan is all about. The video spawned copies and imitations, yet “I Love My Ducks” managed to alter what it means to be a Duck forever.

Supwitchugirl – “Return of the Quack”                              

The sequel to “I Love My Ducks” was created with University assistance and it succeeded in being a completely different video with the exact same message.

Sebastian Bach – “Oregon Power Ballad” (via Late Night With Jimmy Fallon)                        

Before Oregon played in the 2011 BCS National Championship game against the Auburn Tigers, Sebastian Bach teamed up with Jimmy Fallon to create the “Oregon Power Ballad.” The former Skid Row frontman offered words of wisdom to the rest of the football world:

Don’t F@$% with the Ducks.

Gangnam Style feat. the Oregon Duck                                                                          

Psy’s “Gangnam Style” is approaching 2.2 billion views and continues its reign as the most viewed YouTube video in history, but the most entertaining version of the sensation was created by Puddles and the cheerleading squad. No one dances quite like the Duck, but my money is on Puddles to win by a landslide in a dance battle against Psy.

Teach Me How to Duckie                                                                                                                      

College Gameday host Lee Corso proudly displays his Oregon headgear nearly every time the crew sets up in Eugene, and once even went as far as to trade identities with Puddles. Who doesn’t want to be the Duck? With everyone hopelessly imitating Puddles, this dance lesson provides the best help to learn how to dance like the legend.

Rick Dees – “Disco Duck”

This has absolutely nothing to do with Oregon. This is just an announcement that this song exists.

Go Ducks.

So, something not that chill happened last night…

The Interview, Seth Rogen and James Franco’s new film about assassinating supreme leader Kim Jong-un of North Korea, was set for release on Christmas Day, but following threats for 9/11-level terrorist attacks, large theater chains announced that they would no longer be showing the movie. Sony pictures decided to cancel the release and all preview screenings, absorbing a $44-million profit loss.

In This Is the End (easily the funniest movie of the decade), the last film in which Seth Rogen and James Franco co-starred, they lived out the apocalypse. This time, they may have begun the cascading domino effect leading to World War III.

What began as an anonymous cyber-attack on Sony Pictures escalated into a threat of national terrorism to theaters across the country that planned to air the film. The U.S. has linked North Korea directly to the attacks. Kim Jong-un has called the film an “act of war.” The threat of attack was enough for theaters to cancel the film. The Fort Collins shooting on opening day of The Dark Knight Rises made theater-goers uneasy for months, and another tragedy, a publicized one at that, would be inconceivable.

This is not the first movie to joke about the death of a world leader. It is also not the first movie to kill a leader from North Korea. In 2004 Trey Parker and Matt Stone, the creators of constantly controversial South Park, released Team America: World Police. The ending finds Kim Jong-Il, who is “So Ronery,” impaled on a German Ambassador’s hat. His corporeal form dies, but his spirit cockroach escapes and flies back to his home planet on its mini-spaceship.

One North Korean ambassador asked for the film to be banned in the Czech Republic to no avail. No lives were lost because of the making of this film.

In response to Sony’s cancellation of The Interview, one theater in Texas is going to show Team America instead. Employees will be given American flags on the day of the showing to increase patriotism.

In a related dictatorial debacle, Charlie Chaplin’s 1940 classic, The Great Dictator, starred Chaplin as Adenoid Hynkel (sound similar to anyone?). Although Chaplin’s dictator survived the film, he used multiple gags to mock Adolf Hitler, such as the famous dance with the inflatable globe, as if to say he has the world in his hands until it pops upon landing.

The film was banned in Germany. No lives were lost because of the making of the film.

In the aftermath of this week’s shit-storm that passed through Hollywood, a film starring Steve Carell, was also cancelled by Sony. Based on the graphic novel Pyongyang, by Guy Delisle, which centers on the author’s time spent in North Korea.

The easy argument is to say that America has never had to deal with films about assassinating our public leaders, but in October of 2006, a British film was released entitled The Death of a President. The faux documentary features the assassination of President George W. Bush and then proceeds to solve the crime like a TV drama. Instead of the government complaining about the film and in turn giving the film all the free promotion in the world and piquing public curiosity, it went quietly into obscurity, just like how North Korea could have handled the release of The Interview.

How Sony should have handles the threats is similar to how Trey Parker and Matt Stone reacted when they nearly faced the wrath of the Islamic nation after depicting Muhammad in South Park not once, but twice. Comedy Central wanted to forbid them from showing Muhammad, so the two threatened to leave the network instead of giving in to death threats. Their logic was that if they prevented content from being shown because it offended one group, then the list of offended groups would grow, leaving the show with nothing.

America has freedom of speech for a reason. It’s strange that films about Kim Jong-Il and Adolf Hitler received almost no punishment other than a regional ban, yet The Interview is being forbidden from being seen by the public because it is offensive to Kim Jong-Un. Watching the death scene (which leaked here) is, admittedly, a bit discomforting. This is a real human they are facetiously killing; a human who is uncomfortable with the slightest bit of negative press; one who has access to nuclear missiles and power to begin an international war. It’s disquieting.

Part of me understands the inherent wrongness of this, but on the flip side, in This is the End, nearly every comedian on the face of Earth was killed. Michael Cera was killed by being stabbed by a lightpost while high on cocaine and looking for his lost cell phone. Jonah Hill was raped by Satan before his demise, and James Franco was eaten by cannibals, and I laughed as hard as I have ever laughed.

The bottom line is that this is a movie. It is a comedy made by the same guys who brought us a stoner-action flick in Pineapple Express, Freaks and Geeks, and introduced us to McLovin. The film’s main goal is to make people laugh, even if the joke is inferred internationally as a provocation for war. While we may not see the film anytime soon, have faith. If SMiLE by the Beach Boys can exist in the world, then so can The Interview. It may just take a little longer than we would like to wait, so for now, be calm and don’t overindulge yourself on swiss cheese.

Follow Craig on Twitter: @wgwcraig