Thursday, November 26, 2009
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
is also the only one with whom I would ever consider having sex.
There has been a lot of barking from the men around here lately that New Moon is one of the foretold horsemen signaling 'the end of cinema as an art form,' or something to that effect, and that women--especially teenage girls--are to blame.
I have no bone to pick with this assertion, as I am inclined to agree, but I wonder if we would have the same opinion as to which horseman it was, although I'm sure we would all agree it wasn't the first.
After all, many of these same poo-pooing men paid money to see Transformers 2, even though they figured they wouldn't like it--and were correct.
Was the first Transformers movie not a previous horseman of said apocalypse? And yet they allowed their ticket revenue to fuel at least two sequels (yes, a third one is already slated for a 2011 release), thereby actively supporting the creation of the same awful movies they lament.
The problem here is not that women are supporting movie franchises that pander to the fifth-grade-educated masses, like Harry Potter and Twilight, but that men are doing the same thing on the other side of the aisle with Transformers, G.I. Joe, and Star Trek (I won't mention the second Star Wars trilogy, out of reverence for the first, but I should, so I kinda half-did).
The bottom line: It's the same as it was with Bush's eight year reign--people from all walks of life and of both sexes are to blame.
If Lord of the Rings proved anything to movie executives, it's that special effects tied to a popular fantasy book series can reap billions of dollars for rich white men, whether or not there is an interesting, enjoyable, well-paced story. As a result, we live in a PG-13 world and our movie screens are now filled with little but superheroes, animated toys, hobbits, wizards, and vampires.
Until everybody realizes their money is their vote, as far as which movies get made, and starts treating their moviegoing decisions more seriously, there will be no reversal of course. Nobody is going to take the time, effort, and risk required to make good movies if they can make more money making bad ones. It is simple supply & demand economics: the more money these awful movies make, the more awful movies there will be to choose from at the multiplex.
Hell, there may be 100 Transformers/Twilight movies by the time they stop turning a profit. How long was Cats on Broadway? 18 years. How many episodes of Guiding Light have aired so far? 15,000.
Perhaps we have slipped into a second 'age of the serial' without even knowing it, where $300 million tentpoles have replaced 10-minute Keystone Cops shorts. If this is true, at least we can assume it is cyclical and we will once again see the light, once again have a decade like the 1970s. If it isn't...the Earth will either need to be blasted by an intelligence ray or a Roland-Emmerich-style world-exploding death ray.
I'm rooting for the intelligence ray, although my wager is modest.
Speaking of the apocalypse, beloved film icon Michael Bay has decided to put his spin on the Mayan 2012 prediction. Here is a summary of 2012: The War for Souls, set for a 2010 release, courtesy of imdbpro:
An academic researcher who opens a portal into a parallel universe and makes contact with his double in order to stop an apocalypse foreseen by the villainous ancient Mayans. And he also discovers that there are multiple copies of the Earth that co-exist in different dimensions. All of the versions of Earth are threatened by an apocalypse that is to occur in December 21, 2012! December 21, 2012 is the date of an apocalypse prophesied in the ancient Mayan calendar. The researcher makes contact with another version of himself on another Earth by opening a portal into a parallel universe. He contacts the double to try and stop the prophecy from being fulfilled at all costs.Not the best grammarian, that Anthony Pereyra, but I think he was able to communicate clearly on one point--this movie will suck in many dimensions.Summary written by Anthony Pereyra
I wonder what the National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance would have to say about this. I'll let you know when I hear from them.
Guess what? When Rihanna things something is really cool or sexy, she says "Barf!"
“Barf!” Rihanna squealed, at the sight of a pair of pale pink satin Brian Atwood stilettos. In her world this is a compliment. “Usually it’s ‘ill’ or ‘I want to throw up on it,’ ” she explained. “But barf is the worst,” meaning the best. “Barf is 10 out of 10.”If you haven't already thrown your computer out the window in frustration at her idiocy, check this: Rihanna has a new album coming out and it's super introspective. Viz:
Rated R is her fourth album, and in some ways her most risky, another step in the evolution of a persona that is, as the title of her multiplatinum 2007 album put it, Good Girl Gone Bad. It is also, she said, her most personal album, a response to her breakup with the singer Chris Brown, who assaulted her in a car in February after a pre-Grammy party.Huh--now that is surprising. I never would have guessed that her publicists and record label executives would have tried to capitalize on the interminable press she received for getting hit in the face by her loser boyfriend. I was totally expecting them to ignore it and force her to experiment with a career-ending foray into Norwegian death metal or a Madonna cover album or something.
Anyway, please buy her totally barfy new album--full of songs about how she's "strong again" and "wants a man who will treat her right"--so she can finally feel good about herself. Rihanna may seem like yet another young female industry puppet who isn't worth a damn, but she really needs your love and support right now; her wounds are still fresh and there are just so many $5000 dresses out there that she wants to throw up on.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Pictures of him wearing a red sweatshirt were posted everywhere. Subway employees were told to be on the lookout. He wore the exact same red sweatshirt. Nobody saw him. Nobody said a word to him. For 11 days.
Meanwhile, I can't imagine being on a NYC subway train for 11 minutes without somebody asking for money, complimenting my ass, or calling the cops. This kid is either a total superfreak, a budding superhero, or both.
I mean, I'm not sure what the actual requirements are [full disclosure--the author is not yet in the fold] to be a superhero these days, but 264 consecutive hours of full invisibility in a crowded city subway? That must at least get you an interview over at DC Comics.
That is, if you haven't already decided to drown yourself out of humiliation or been impressed into service for one of the darker agencies at the Pentagon.
Hmm...it would be great way for him to meet chicks...
Monday, November 23, 2009
Despite the fact that things have only been looking down for AOL, they assure you they are still relevant.
Seriously! Just because everybody who has an AOL account is over the age of 45 and thinks AOL is the internet does not mean they can't compete with Google. I mean...they just have so many unique products to offer...like...uhm...web advertising and stuff.
Aware they needed a massive directional shift, they recently brought in a former Google executive to turn things around, handed out millions to Madison Avenue ad/research firms, and decided that on December 9th their new logo will look like this:
What more could they possibly need, right? Careful not to blink--you might miss their instant, meteoric rise to the top of the technology industry.
In case you are an idiot and don't get it, let the overpaid AOL peeps explain:
Man, do those folks at Leo Burnett, Wolff Olins, and AOL know how to milk money out of a dying cow! Maybe they would do a more thorough, effective job if their salaries actually depended on the performance of the company?
"The period in the logo was added to suggest “confidence, completeness,” Ms. Wilson said, by declaring that “AOL is the place to go for the best content online, period.”
Mr. Armstrong said he liked to describe the period as “the AOL dot” because “the dot is the pivot point for what comes after AOL,” whether it is e-mail, Web sites or coming offerings that will “surprise people.”
The constantly changing images behind the logo are also intended to elicit surprise, said Ms. Wilson and Jordan Crane, creative director at Wolff Olins New York.
“It’s a mix of do-it-yourself and high production values, crazy stuff and elegant stuff,” Mr. Crane said, “simple and engaging and bizarre — all the things the Internet is.”
But what do I know--I'm (sadly?) not in the bullshit business and I didn't lose $16 billion in the first three months of this year...I got no cred!
Since it truly does take all kinds to keep this fucked-up world on its feet, I will continue to tirelessly scour the world for unique gifts this holiday season (Vol.1 available here) until all your loved ones have exactly what they may or may not want under that tree/menorah/bush/toilet.
Without further ado, more gift ideas for the person who thought they had everything:
Did your nephew once say he liked Star Wars? Then buy him this obscenely large and expensive desk made to look like Han Solo frozen in carbonite. He will absolutely love the way it fills his entire dorm room and makes him instantly popular with girls!
If you know somebody who is lonely this holiday season, snakes make wonderful, loving pets--as long as they never escape from their electrified pen and sink their teeth into your face.
He's not full of it anymore! OH!
Now if only that gray base was Glenn Beck's face...hmmm...back to the drawing board!
[interesting Mr. Hankey genesis story available here]
Friday, November 20, 2009
No matter what the fashion, cosmetics, and film industries say, there is new and undeniable evidence that fat people ARE worth something these days.
And it is turning them into walking targets:
LIMA, Peru — A gang in the remote Peruvian jungle has been killing people for their fat, police charged Thursday, draining it from their corpses and offering it on the black market for use in cosmetics. Medical experts expressed skepticism that a major market for fat might exist.
Three suspects have confessed to killing five people for their fat, said Col. Jorge Mejia, chief of Peru's anti-kidnapping police. He said the suspects, two of whom were arrested carrying bottles of liquid fat, told police it was worth $60,000 a gallon ($15,000 a liter)....Mejia said Castillejos confessed that the gang would cut off its victims' heads, arms and legs, remove the organs, then suspend the torsos from hooks above candles that warmed the flesh as the fat dripped into tubs below.
Six members of the gang remain at large, Mejia said, adding that in addition to the five killings the suspects confessed to, the gang may be involved in dozens more. Castillejos told police that the band's fugitive leader, 56-year-old Hilario Cudena, has been killing to extract fat from victims for more than three decades.
At least 60 people are listed as missing in Huanuco province, where the gang allegedly operated, this year alone, though the province is also home to drug-trafficking leftist rebels.
Mejia said police received a tip four months ago that human fat from the jungle was being sold in Lima. In August, he said, police infiltrated the band and later obtained some of the amber fluid, which a police lab confirmed as human fat.
...Police named the band the "Pishtacos" after a Peruvian myth dating to pre-Columbian times of men who killed to extract human fat, quartering their victims with machetes.
Mejia said Castillejos claimed his was not the only gang engaged in such killings.
...Dr. Adam Katz, a professor of plastic surgery at the University of Virginia medical school, was incredulous when told about the Peruvian ring.
"I can't see why there would be a black market for fat," he said. "It doesn't make any sense at all because in most countries we can get fat so readily and in such amounts from people who are willing and ready to donate that I don't see why there would ever be a black market for fat, of all tissues." (read full article here)
Whether or not the existence of a black market for human fat should exist is irrelevant--it seems unlikely that these gang members would go through all that disgusting butchery/rendering for no reason, so they MUST be selling that fat to somebody for something.
Can it really be that hard to figure out whom? Or are the culprits too well-connected to face consequences? If this is all part of another risky Wall Street investment scheme, I swear I'm gonna...wait a minute--this could be just the miracle cure we've been looking for all this time!
Considering the favorable trade-off between liposuction costs and black-market fat prices--especially once costs go down as the number of procedures skyrockets--there might be some real money to be made here, America!
Maybe if 'the powers that be' were to turn our abundant fat reserves into a tradeable commodity and create a Cellulite Czar to control the flow to the marketplace--in order to keep prices high through manufactured scarcity, like DeBeers has perfected with diamonds--the Great Depression Redux might finally become a blip in our rearview mirror and America can proudly stand atop the world once more, stomping our rivals to dust as we laugh our way to the bank and increase consumption to even more grotesque levels.
Ahhh--a return to the good ole days would be nice...
Good evening. Thanks for stopping by the company picnic. I thought it would be a more relaxing venue for what I want to share with you.
We here at Goodtime Charlie Incorporated (a subsidiary of G.E. Goldman Viacom Blackwater & Hathaway LLC) thought it might be wise, what with the embarrassingly abundant resources at our fingertips, to find a way to use all that information in an informative and entertaining manner.
So we started a new feature we'd like to premiere for you right now--it's called Lifestyles of the Rich & Filthy. It is to appear on a frustratingly irregular basis and only on the most discerning sites on the web, to best limit exposure to those who don't deserve it.
With that in mind, I reckon we should get started with the profiles--and why not start at the top?
Goodtime Charlie was born in 1887, on a riverboat outside Detroit, to a disgraced single mother who died in childbirth. Left to his own devices at an astonishingly early age, Goodtime had no choice but to rely on his cunning to survive.
By age 8, he had a law degree from Oxford, spoke six languages, published his second acclaimed book of poetry, and was advising Ohio Governor William McKinley daily on how best to move from the state house to the White House.
Yes, let's just go right out and say it--prayers for young Goodtime's sexual maturity occupied most of the day for the average American woman from 1895 - 1901.
In 1901, Mr. Charlie--now a prominent industrialist, philanthropist, and sexually-active acrobat--arranged for the assassination of his old friend, President McKinley, after the President failed to turn up for a duel arranged to settle their battle for the heart of a promising young Vaudevillian minx.
At 21, Charlie, richer than Midas and a proud father of seven, got bored with life among men and abandoned his family to sail around the world forever on a yacht he carved himself out of a single tree.
Aside from his fantastic beard, renowned sexual prowess, nudism, and the fact that he never ages, little else is known about the man himself.
Well, that's a lie--here are seven more tantalizing facts we know about the reclusive national treasure:
1. He is 122 years old and lives in the middle of the ocean, in a house he built with his own hands out of salvaged materials.
2. He works tirelessly in a top-secret research facility/lounge carved into a mountain on an uncharted island and controls the native population as a benevolent dictator.
3. Every time he gets behind the wheel he sets a new land-speed record in his highly-modified 1939 Bugatti 57C.
4. He's had many, many women over the years, including Brigitte Bardot in her prime.
5. He's written every hit song since Joplin--under an ongoing series of pseudonyms--and possesses the velvety voice of an angel.
6. His diet consists of naught save whiskey, wine, spring water, hand-caught lobster, and exotic sandwiches.
7. Although you will most likely never see him, or even figure out what he looks like, rest assured he will maintain effortless control of your hearts and minds merely for his own amusement.
Well, that's all for today, people of the world. Please be sure to tune in for our next installment of Lifestyles of the Rich & Filthy or the next time you encounter me it might look more like this:
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
in their California home. Photo by Fairchild Archives
Not for everybody, probably, since some people have no taste, but I doubt too many of us would complain about having it in our house since, if nothing else, it would imply that our house was big enough to hold a fireplace you could drive a car into.
[My only complaint is the dead animals scattered around it--I'd rather watch them on Planet Earth, thank you very much!]
If you are not a fan, maybe this Parisian Le Corbusier-style beauty is more your speed?
Oh, to be rich...
Can you get your act together for one damn minute?
If it ain't the last TWO governors being indicted, it's Mayor Daley spending the city into near-bankruptcy in a failed bid for the Olympics nobody but his cronies wanted, or finding the body of the Chicago Board of Education floating in the river.
Can't Illinois political figures just lay low and do their dirty work on the sly, like everybody in government everywhere else in the country/world? Why do they seem to think they are impervious to punishment when lately everybody either gets busted by the only honest man in government, Patrick Fitzgerald, or winds up the victim of a "suicide?"
I have no doubt this guy was a corrupt asshole--he stood to make a lot of money from the Olympics on a property development deal, he was friends with Jesse Jackson for 30 years, and he was embroiled in some sort of scheme involving admission to the (very few) elite Chicago Public Schools--and I have no doubt he deserved what he got.
What did he get, you ask? The modern version of cement shoes. A couple thugs drove his car over to the river, put a bullet in his head, threw the gun in the river, and hopped into an idling car down the block--all as their boss watched through a telescope from the penthouse of Trump's new skyscraper. End of story.
If he was going to kill himself, do you really think that is how he would do it? Do you really think this is when he would choose to do it?
Basically, if you ever watched The Wire--and you should, if you haven't and you want to see exactly why and how we are in a never-ending political shit cycle-- this Michael Scott asshole is a bonafide Clay Davis sorta fella. And Clay Davis finally got his. Good job, Lester!
Saturday, November 14, 2009
I have to tell you a little story. A story about the determination of the human spirit. And barbecue sauce.
It's a story that I swear is true, although I have been unable to unearth even a shred of internet evidence during a few thorough searches.
Here we go:
Years ago, when men were men, I read in a newspaper (remember those?) that shockwaves rippled through the New Orleans area when it turned out the winner of the annual BBQ sauce contest for the last 10-15 years was using amniotic fluid as his secret ingredient.
Yes. That was not a typo--I did not mean to say "pectin" and accidentally typed "amniotic fluid."
How was this discovered? Well, he was arrested--for the second time in a few years--at a local hospital, in disguise, trying to steal several large drums of amniotic fluid from wherever it is they keep those sorts of things in a hospital, as they await collection and disposal (into our rivers and streams) by one of our country's fine waste management companies.
When questioned by police, he owned up to the scheme and the policemen (probably) vomited all over him and threw away their stash of BBQ sauce in the office kitchen.
Just for a minute, imagine the feeling in the pit of your stomach when you realize that for the last fifteen years, you have been smothering every goddamn piece of meat you have put in your mouth in a veritable cocktail of the amniotic fluid collected from the uteri of dozens, if not hundreds, of pregnant women in your county.
Much like Ace Ventura post-Einhorn-realization, there is no way to scrub that filth off you--it is in your very living tissue at this point.
Now try to imagine how desperate you would have to be, in your quest to win your city's vaunted BBQ sauce contest with a magical secret ingredient, to wind up trying the ole 'amniotic fluid' angle. I'm sure he tried at least a few other flavors first, right? What were they? Shit, mucus, and menstrual blood?
And...then what? Where did he get his first taste of amniotic fluid, to see if it would work? It's not exactly easy to come by--did he force his wife to give birth in their kitchen so he could whip up a test batch?
I mean, even placentophagists (get ready to open a whole new world when you click on this link) don't consume the amniotic fluid when they eat their placenta, so it's not like it's a delicacy elsewhere and we're just being nancy boys about it over here.
Alright, alright--this is getting too gross; but you should check this link out for a laugh before you go. And for those of you BBQ sauce lovers out there, don't worry--I don't think it was Sweet Baby Ray's, although that would have been SO perfect.
"Sweet Baby Ray's BBQ Sauce--Now with 50% More Amniotic Fluid!"
...and THAT'S why you should always read the list of ingredients.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Oh. My. God, Becky...is Roland Emmerich remaking Lost before it's even finished? Brilliant! Almost as brilliant as Grey's Anatomy...OHHH!!!
[Sorry, Roland/Mark, but y'all got served. --Ed.]
...and we have him to blame for all our problems. Check these lyrics from Man In the Mirror (to be sung to the tune of Man in the Mirror, written and composed by Siedah Garrett, not MJ himself):
As I, Turn Up The Collar On MyHe saw the world for what it was--a bad place. He tried to change it, tried to inspire other people to change it ("We Are the World," for example), and...they listened to him. They believed in him. They followed him. The Kool-Aid was guzzled. It worked.
Favorite Winter Coat
This Wind Is Blowin' My Mind
I See The Kids In The Street,
With Not Enough To Eat
Who Am I, To Be Blind?
Pretending Not To See
A Summer's Disregard,
A Broken Bottle Top
And A One Man's Soul
They Follow Each Other On
The Wind Ya' Know
'Cause They Got Nowhere
That's Why I Want You To
I'm Starting With The Man In
I'm Asking Him To Change
And No Message Could Have
Been Any Clearer
If You Wanna Make The World
A Better Place
(If You Wanna Make The
World A Better Place)
Take A Look At Yourself, And
Then Make A Change
(Take A Look At Yourself, And
Then Make A Change)
(Na Na Na, Na Na Na, Na Na,
I've Been A Victim Of A Selfish
Kind Of Love
It's Time That I Realize
That There Are Some With No
Home, Not A Nickel To Loan
Could It Be Really Me,
Pretending That They're Not
Well, congratulations to Michael then, for successfully leading us unto this shitty promised land racked by unemployment, bankruptcy, landfill mountains of bric-a-brac, and the Gosselins.
Defendant: Michael Jackson
- quick to blame somebody else for all his problems
- over-medicated on legal drugs pimped by the pharmaceutical industry
- had a penchant for justifying whatever he did, no matter how ill-advised
- sexually dysfunctional
- firmly religious, despite his thoughts and deeds
- spent more money than he made, mostly buying useless shit to decorate his house/body
- lost his house to a bank
- died in order to provide for his family
Plaintiff: The People of the World
- quick to blame somebody else for all their problems
- over-medicated on legal drugs pimped by the pharmaceutical industry
- have a penchant for justifying whatever they do, no matter how ill-advised
- sexually dysfunctional
- firmly religious, despite their thoughts and deeds
- spend more money than they make, mostly buying useless shit to decorate their houses/bodies
- lost their houses to several banks
- died in order to provide for their families, but forgot they had AIG insurance that was void upon death, as explicitly stated, in Aramaic, on the inside of an anonymous envelope they were sent once
- HUGE Michael Jackson fans
That Michael Jackson did, willfully and with malice of forethought, mislead The People of the World and plunge them into utter financial ruin and a life chock-full of sexual deviance and drug abuse.
Well, I suppose that, considering it is possible Michael was instead a martyr who not only frittered away $500 million on total shit in order to have more in common with the average American but also became an overly-vain, sexually-perverse freakshow for the same reason, the least I can do is give his corpse the benefit of abstaining from this useless verdict. Case dismissed.
Uh-oh...wait a minute...I hope no crackpot religion starts out of that off-hand courtroom comment, like it did around 30 AD when my ancestor said that thing about that Jesus lad...or is it already too late?
My opinion, as strange as it seems, is that if it becomes clear that he did not abuse those children, he was very close to being a saint. And even if he was not, this is the first time in my life when I feel the presence of God's hand in what had happened. I am not religious person at all. But the whole story is so amazing, it contains some message, which I do not quite understand yet. I keep thinking about it since he's gone. It is also strange that the person like him could have such a big impact. You never know who will be chosen to convey some message from above. There are people who are not as rich as he was, not that confused, not keeping pornographic journals at home, doing much more for the humanity than he did. But he is the only one who looked like he had that divine spark. Isn't it strange?Shit. It's too late--the idiots have already had time to mull it over and make irrational decisions (also known as faith). I wonder if this new religion will be some sort of cocktail of Jackson's own diverse religious beliefs--maybe its cult members will have to wear a veil, knock on each other's doors to preach the word, and have weekly sleepovers with little boys. Or will they be more literal and pull their doctrine from his song lyrics...hmm...
(posted by Stranger on this fascinating blog entry. Seriously, just read through those comments at the end and a whole lot of questions about our why our world is in the shitter will slowly come into focus as you hear from some of its inhabitants...)
Or perhaps this is all a bunch of lubbock and, like Mr. Hyde or The Emperor, Michael Jackson was simply an evil man who grew more physically detestable as his dastardly deeds grew more numerous and revolting, as he embraced the Dark Side, and neither he nor his adoring fans want to believe it.
Anything's possible I guess, I mean, we're in America, right? Go us!
"Yes, it's an emergency. I was online tonight and somebody mentioned that Chad Michael Murray is a douche. I had no idea who he was, so I looked him up and this is what I found:"
[Reads this link in its entirety]
"Yeah, I know, this girl--nay, 25 year-old woman--has got a Chad Michael Murray fetish that I fear just won't quit until she literally owns his bloody, douchey heart and secrets it away in her hope chest. I think he's in grave danger."
"Yeah, I'll hold."
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Christmas is right around the corner (only 49 days away!!!) and I'm sure some of you haven't completed your shopping yet--slackers!!!!!!!!!!! LOL!!!!!!!!! ROTFL!!!!!!!! OMG...
I figured since I am the man everybody comes to for gift-giving tips, I would offer a couple suggestions for that precious little person in your life who thought they had everything: