The Traffic Gods are smiling and blowing kisses. More thanks are due on my part: thanks to blogger for linking to Caesar, to textism for linking to Wolf Hardeyk, and to shift for picking this site as their top weblog. Shucks. You freaks are crazy.
Holy living fuck, does anyone have any vacation property on Mars they’re not using?
I was listening to some B-grade trance music that I was hoping to use for a …. all right, long story, so although I hate to, let me say simply I was listening to some B-grade trance music while reading about all the human cloning brouhaha, when gradually my brain laid a new track over the lackluster beats, in droning robo-dance voice: “clo-ning vats… clo-ning vats… clo-ning vats…”
Sid Meier predicted this some time ago. I say bring on the brood pits, drones, and punishment spheres. Hell, if God and the Republicans are against this thing, I know where I stand.
Gotta love the term jestergate, in reference to this. (via Metatalk)
I believe in Wolf Hardeyk’s unique rage management system.
A new collage is up: sweetie. This one scares me somewhat.
(via mighty girl) excellent comic.
Oh, and while I’m here, let me give thanks for bad dubbing, mayonnaise, God’s Hockey Team; thanks for Maestro Fresh-Wes, Slick Rick and Woody Allen; thanks for my polarized old-man shades with reinforced side-shading; thanks for the semi-colon; thanks for Baudrillard, for Howard Hughes, and for Marshall McLuhan. Thanks for robot dogs, aging rockers, jumpsuits, and photography. Thanks for wearing your underwear outside your pants, superheroes; thanks for thanking me for the thank-you note, Willard. Thank you, brain, for the memories; thank you, hamburger, for the calories. Thanks for reading.
That’s got to rank right up there on the Carried Away Scale, if anyone’s keeping track.
Hunting for answers to an important question: who did all the dubbing for kung fu films of the sixties and seventies? I know it’s the same bunch of people, and some unfathomable reason I need to know their life stories, every last one. As usual, I don’t turn up what I’m looking for, but find some interesting stuff nonetheless. Here’s a great memoir of work as a dubber. Did you know that in Greystoke, the eighties Tarzan movie, Glen Close dubbed Andie McDowell’s lines in their entirety? Apparently McDowell royally messed up the accent not surprising, really. And finally, did you know the voice of Optimus Prime and Eeyore is the voice for most of Hollywood’s trailers?
Some of my favourite good-bad lyrics:
She wore faded jeans
And soft black leather
She had eyes so blue
They looked like weather…
Tom Petty, “It’ll All Work Out.” We can assume from this lyric that Mr. Petty lives in Southern California. Here, it would mean, “She had eyes so blue they looked snow white and ice cold.”
I’m as serious as cancer
When I say, rhythm is a dancer.
I believe that is a Snap lyric. The cancer metaphor succeeds in saying, “hey, I’m serious.” What is he so serious about? Some meaningless phrase, “rhythm is a dancer.” Can you really, honestly, cold-bloodedly deploy a cancer metaphor for whatever dumb catch phrase pops into your confused head, asshole?
Once you’ve run an ambulance off a large hill high into the air, and crashed it down in the middle of a crowded schoolyard, once you’ve run from the flaming ruins right before it explodes, and taken a call on the payphone ringing right next to you, you’ll know as I do that Grand Theft Auto 3 is a hell of a lot of dirty, nasty fun. Thank you, Rockstar games.
Yet more oily conspiracy stuff: anti-oil book authors claim oil’s war in Afghanistan is about oil. Hey, it’s not the most shocking thing in the world, but it does mention sweet, sweet oil repeatedly… Mmmmm… gooey delicious oil… must declare war…
Okay, this is getting weird. A Korean producer is working on the ultimate bruceploitation movie, in which Mr. Lee is brought back to life digitally.
Line from Blind Fist of Bruce, one of several bruceploitation films I’m in the process of watching: “I never knew my kung fu was so bad.” Haven’t we all thought that at some point?
I’ve scanned some photos. They’re not recent two to three years old, or so (except the party ones). Once I find the time to rework my site’s back end, there will be a designated photo page, but until then it’s the iTools thing, which works pretty smoothly.
I want to rave like a dying lunatic about the magical anime masterpiece <a href=http://us.imdb.com/Details?0291350″>Millenium Actress. But there’s no point, as it’s not available anywhere yet. (Lookit me! I’m such an insider!) It’s by Satoshi Kon, director of Perfect Blue. It’s a pomo-Brecht romance odyssey whose self-references somehow draw one further in, as if fantasy was really the best way to tell the story of a real person’s life, and it’s oh wait, there’s no point, is there?
Teddy is a comic about a tragic relationship. It is of high caliber. It is brought to you by Moz and The Velvet Cerebellum, by which I mean via those two blogs, not that they sponsored this post, or that this post would not have been possible without the generous support of some friendly corporate giant, such as Pepsi.
The healing power of hockey:
The game “has nothing to do with race,” he says. “It has everything to do with who you are. I look at it as I’m trying to coach hockey, not coach colour. There’s only one way to pass a puck. There isn’t a white way of passing.”
Lastly, or this will turn into Highlander 2: The Bloggening: there is a scene in which Connery performs an action-packed act of heroism. It is set to “Amazing Grace” played by bagpipes. More evidence that the makers of the film should be hunted down and brought to trial for Crimes Against Cinema.
How odd. The hole in the ozone layer is shrinking. This is a plot element from Highlander 2! Oh, ye gods of irony… have mercy on me…
Whaddup with Highlander 2? I mean, what happened here? I’m not the hugest fan of the first in the series, but you have to admire it for its original story, its cinematography, and its breadth. Yet part two is a disaster. Of course, many sequels are disasters, but — oh sweet Moses, this is one of the worst films I’ve ever seen. Not only is all the dialogue cringe-worthy, but the story doesn’t even make sense. It fails the simplest of water-holding tests. So Lambert and Connery are aliens, and they knew each other on the planet Zeiss before heading to earth, where they either forgot about their friendship entirely, or pretended they didn’t know each other for the entire first film. And the immortal/mortal thing just gets shot to shit. Perennial villain Michael Ironside appears in the “500 years ago on the planet Zeiss” scene as some sort of desert warlord. Now, they’re apparently not supposed to be immortal until they get to earth. Yet, 500 years later, he flies down to earth for the Lambert grudge match they didn’t mention anything about time travel, did they? And, as an alien warlord enjoying his first earth-visit, he already knows all sorts of action tag-lines – “this is the last stop” after trashing a train, “put it on my tab” after trashing a cab. And MacLeod and Ramirez are called MacLeod and Ramirez on their home planet! What sort of alien names are those? What happened to good old Zor and Ungar-9 and all that shit? “Hi, I’m Jennifer Smith, an alien from beyond time.” Finally, why would Lambert help design an ozone shield for the planet? He was a fucking antique dealer in the last film! Is the global shield made out of brass and pewter?
So many questions… so many. It comes down to this: it’s inconceivable that even the dumbest halfwit mountain people could come up with a script so horribly bad, but this piece of villainy was brought about by the creators of the original: same director, writers, producers. And why the fuck did Connery sign on? Stu theorizes that Russel Malcahy deliberately tried to ruin the film, since he never wanted to make the sequel in the first place. But why would he sign on? Elsewhere I read that partway through shooting the bad producers/distributors took the thing away from the good producers and massacred it. Some explanation may be found on this new DVD. It’s an extended director’s cut, with deleted and even reshot scenes, that abandons the alien storyline. Apparently Malcahy et all explain what happened, what they originally intended, blah blah. Anyone seen it and care to tell me?
Great conspiracy site here. The writer in question is Michael C. Ruppert, ex-LAPD. His special interest is CIA involvement in narcotics. I really recommend reading his testimony to the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence. Many of the articles appear to be well-researched and argued (this and that); the one that is generating the controversy is this one that argues the CIA had foreknowledge of the Sept. 11 attacks and did not act. It seems a bit rushed and I don’t agree with it. Nonetheless, there are some juicy tidbits: you have major sources saying a) the war against Afghanistan was planned before the attacks and b) the CIA had a chance to grab bin Laden in July and did not. Most intriguingly, the source for the second point, Le Figaro, is owned by the Carlyle Group, which connects the Bushes to the bin Laden family. And, if the Figaro article is to be believed, bin Laden was being visited by family members, meaning he’s not the “black sheep” they claim him to be.
Okay, enough. I have a massive weak spot for conspiracy stories. And I confess that I deal with them strictly as stories and not so much for their truth value that’s way too much work. I know that’s degenerate postmodernism, but hey, that’s how I’m livin’. This one I find pretty good. Most conspiracy narratives fail when they try to explain too much. Most are an attempt to debunk official stories (the, er, ‘metanarrative’), but when they argue, say, that Jesus was an alien, they are themselves turning into a metanarrative. This one stays fairly close to home no claims that the CIA killed Jesus in an illicit drug operation, or anything like that. The touchy part is the inclusion of the Bushes in the conspiracy, which is going a little over the top. Although, hey, Bush Sr. was head of the CIA, as I’m sure we all know…
Fucking A plus, I now have the greatest jumpsuit: Puma, blue with fluorescent yellow stripes. 100% polyester, baby. Connotations: Swedish sports, Russian mob, North African hiphoppers. I’m considering destroying the rest of my clothes. I don’t need them anymore.
If you told me when I started this blog that I would ever post something like this, I would have come down to your house and slapped you around with a hot skillet. Sigh…
Cleaning the Fucking Kitchen for Dummies. (via captainfez)