Maybe you saw the finale of the Steve Driver miniseries, wasn't it so powerful. The filmakers really brought it all to life, a real ass-kicking for the viewer. From the very first frame, the veil between our dimension and his is rended open. It is tough, dramatic, and without giving away the ending, it is his truth. Also, nothing else good was on at the time. There's always a reason for what Big Television does.

Enter TV news and blog pundit faggery, people quick to place tags on this guy: violent-fantasies this, hearing-voices that, "well he must've been fascinated with roadkill at a young age." Total bullshit. Objectively entering a killer's mind requires a peek into hell. Scary, opening those gates, but important because it allows others to learn from a safe distance. Was he socially out of tune? Sure. Mother foaming at the mouth during childbirth? Maybe. Did he twist the heads of cats all the way around like unscrewing a jar? No.

More likely he had maybe a father that engendered in him some fundamental hatred. Maybe he humilated him, which is likely, because Steve was a charming sadist. Maybe his mother spent most days crawling around the apartment on her hands all bipolared out like Sammura Shane with the early pattern baldness number, booze on her breath, answering the door with the front of her robe open. Who knows.

What I do know, is for every Denzel Washington and Angela Bassett that embodies the african archetype in their aura, you've got fifty thousand OJ Simpson's, Mike Tyson's, Oprah's, Flavor Flav's, Chris Brown's, Whitney's, Bobby's, R. Kelly's, DC Snipers, and Condoleeza's- did you know she was sizing a pair of Ferragamo's on 5th Ave. at the exact moment people in New Orleans were swimming the backstroke in their own living rooms? EDIT: and Bob Johnson, he sold BET to the Man. What an ass I was not to factor him in.

So, statistically speaking the risk was too great letting Stephen Hill survive past adolescence. It's much harder to clean spoiled dreams from a once joyous mind. Let's review. (CTRL + Click for music).

1981. A screwball is hit foul. It sails into a park where a kid is pushing a sailboat onto a pond. Do I need to finish the story?



1998. U of M. No one laughed. No one moved. No one breathed. A dark chasm of status quo. And then, out of the stillness.. the sound of a bicycle bell.



2008. Los Angeles. A train has derailed near the intersection of Todd Bridges Hwy and Ryan Knox Rd. Sure he was 32 but that was his physical age. He was way younger mentally and just wanted a pony ride and probably candy. (Note to self: toy swords will always come across like compensating.)



2009. There's a type of in vivo aversion therapy that deals with this, where you approach the subject from behind and drop a noose over their head. The idea is to remind them of what lay ahead if they don't start acknowledging their particular issues. Either that or show them a dummy floating face down in a pool.



2010. Tommy Dong and Steve, "happier times." Tom (left) doing asian stereotypes no favors. Interesting that the director-producer of these videos Eric Jover, who used to post here, has been absent. He's mixed up in this somehow, I just can't prove it yet.



Getting blood out of concrete can be a real bear (this one's for you Eric), but there's hope: Stiff bristled brush, Dawn detergent and water in a 1 cup to 1 tsp ratio. Go nuts.

For tough stains, or if you need to destroy evidence, DO NOT use chlorine bleach like an idiot. Two words: Hydrogen Peroxide. Only an oxygen bleach vaporizes haemoglobin. Then CSI boy can spray that summer dress all day long with his luminol or phenolphthalein because guess what, it never happened. Right?



Pop-and-lock on one of the 10 deadliest stretches of hillside in California. Not the safest place but better the mountains this summer than risking shark attack at the ocean and seeing the water turn dark red. At this point his humility was probably still intact but his patience needed a come-to-Jesus epiphany.



Mixed up in some public protest. There's this position in Yoga called the 'reverse cobra' where the goal is to put your knees behind your ears. If they tell you to do that, watch out. It's pretty obvious what your choice is at that point.



I'll take that coffee to go.



Who stole my fucking shoes? And may I please have them back. Thank you.



If I had to guess I'd say right now he's circling the runway of a place that isn't necessarily hell but Satan probably has a timeshare there. One day I'm going to devote some time to learning more about this guy- you know, the shadowy parts. EDIT: On second thought forget it. What an asshole.



"Such a sweet man if you caught him at the right time. All in all though he was a failure. He never figured it out, never got brought into the circle because he was a such a lame-ass spaz, early-to-bed guy."
--Brandon Iron (Editor's note: pot meet kettle)

"..If bees chase you dont jump into a pool...they'll wait and you will drown.." --diary of Stephen Hill, age 11

He flew through the air with the greatest of ease.....That daring young killer of Tom Dong with his Samurai sword.

not surprisingly the lapd so looks so triumphant in that pic.like they just took down osama or someshit.

Well, he was a mope of mass destruction.

silly guy, doesn't he understand that black men require a machete if they want to kill anywhere near their potential. bloodshot eyes and a farming implement turns them into were-blacks capable of hacking a million to death.

swords are silly, given the warehouse setting and some shit worth money that plugs into the wall and the types of people around there wasn't anyone with a gun locked properly in their car? most warehouses keep a german shep-type dog around and a mossy 500 tucked away somewhere if they don't outsource a security dude. ca's strict, but socal's got a lot of people who buy guns for whatever reason.

any place of business with potential to be robbed can get a greenlight for a shotty, even bodegas that sell wine-flavored blunts and phone cards to the global south are afforded something above a bat if the owner's not an alien or felon.

This shit here is a comedy tour de force

In hiding Those census bastards will never count me