youtube shot (healthier than coffee, I assure you.)

righteous commercial.



homo show.



safe cocaine.

DOOMSDAY: really now...

...5 years to save the world...

(I am going to be labeling all of my global warming posts "doomsday" from now on. I won't say much about whatever links, pictures, or quotes that I post because (1) I think they speak for themselves and (2) I'll start ranting insanely if I so much as begin to cogitate the evils of socialist-liberalism and its doom and gloom philosophies.)

Grindhouse (2007)

What is it with Robert Rodriguez and testicles??

One of the main things that kept me from liking his Sin City was it's s-exploitability (particularly how women were portrayed). Sure, some of it was visually appealing and sometimes funny/disgusting during movie (who doesn't find some sort of satisfaction in seeing an evil, yellow creature get his manhood ripped from his body?) , but in the end you have to ask yourself, "Was that completely even minutely necessary?" It all really sums up to nothing but a crutch to appeal the juvenile in people like me. Although not nearly (as in miles away, but still there) as strongly as with Sin City, I felt similarly uneasy after Planet Terror, Rodriquez's first half installment in the double feature movie event Grindhouse.

I almost feel bad bringing up the negative first because I enjoyed the movie for the most part, but I feel worse because I cannot recommend the movie to very many people because of it's overtly twisted sexuality. If Sin City had been any good, I would have had the same problem recommending it, but it wasn't any good, so there was no problem there. But now we have Planet Terror: a good movie with a little bit of the same tendencies of Sin City that make you ponder the mental stability of the director. This makes it so much more difficult to talk positively about the film with that glaring discrepancy, but there were many positives amidst its few negatives, and therefore I am giving Rodriguez the benefit of the doubt this time because I had such a good time with his raucous, bloody concoction.

So with all that wishful "why testicles?" thinking aside, Planet Terror was an excellent, yet absolutely absurd, horror adventure. I wasn't expecting it to be quite as scary as it was. I jumped a few times, and held my breath in others. I probably found too much joy in the splatter festivities. When a prominent and gusto character unexpectedly gets blown to smithereens towards the end, I laughed harder than when Dory spoke whale in Disney's Finding Nemo four years ago...and that is saying alot. Rodriguez keeps the story moving forward so your mind never has a chance to wander. His film is a satisfying "on-purpose" blend of ridiculousness and seriousness that pays tribute to the "on-accident" blend of ridiculousness and seriousness characteristic of the first taboo, rebellious horror flicks of the twentieth century.

If you can handle a movie bloodier than anything you ever seen before, than I cautiously recommend it. It is a funny, often hilarious, over-the-top gritty film that packs enough punches to make a jock feel queasy and an emo-kid laugh. Otherwise, if you can't handle blood and the crushing, ripping, dropping, obliterating, eating, or cutting of body parts (some of which were never meant to see the light of day or roll across the wet asphalt of night) than avoid it with every fiber of your being. It is as bad as you can possibly imagine it to be, and it is as pointless and juvenile as that which it is paying homage.

-------

Quentin Tarantino. Death Proof. First of all, like before, let's get the negative out of the way. Tarantino needs a major mouth washing. I can deal with curse words. I use them sometimes, but seriously...the lip of some of the characters was exhausting, if not an all out verbal raping of my now not so virgin ears...

But...with that out of the way, Tarantino is a bloody genius. Where Planet Terror thrived off of the constant adrenaline rush of something happening, Death Proof thrives off the constant adrenaline of "nothing" happening. Like the calm before a storm, his film blows gusts of uneasiness our way, taunting us with the careful patience of the perpetrator just waiting to drop the giant rains and winds of chaos on an unexpecting town of commoners minding their own business.

I loved Death Proof.

The crackling dialogue and flowing cinematography had me giggling like a school girl. There is a scene in which the group of women are sitting in a diner talking, and the camera is continually moving around them. The technical challenge behind a scene like that dumbfounds me, and the result is simply enthralling. The car chase nearly made me crap my pants, both in the excitement of it all and the pure horror at the fact that what I was watching was for the most part actually happening. I wonder how many documents that girl had to sign that said "If you die, that's your fault, your family and/or dog cannot sue us." I'm glad she signed them, because her dramatic tango with death was great fun!

The ending of Death Proof was just too good to be true. I kept asking the person next to me if that actually just happened. He said it did, but I still don't believe him. Darn. Guess I have to go see it again...just to make sure...

Anyone?

Planet Terror: B
Death Proof: A-

P.S. There were fake trailers in between the two films, but the only one I remember specifically is Don't because it was funny.

flattery, gas, and chirpy, chirpy, birdie par

I went to the union yesterday to get some papers filled out for work. The union representative said I look like Sanjaya.

"Who?" I said.

"Sanjaya," he said. "You know...that kid on American Idol."

"Who...I don't watch the show....?"

"Mr. Mohawk..."

"Oooh!...Really?"

"Ya, and you talk like him." (Gee, thanks. So I know I still have yet to hit puberty, but really now...)

Oh well, I am slightly flattered, I admit. We're alike in so many ways. He thinks too highly of himself. I think too highly of myself. I can't sing, and neither can he. He talks like Michael Jackson, he is unsure of himself, and he makes things awkward.

...alike in so many ways...

-------

In other off-the-cuff news today, I am going to try and stop peeling my nails. Unfortunately, that adventure looks dim and daunting because we don't have "Nail Peelers Anonymous" here in Orange County. I'm not sure I have the will power to withstand my urges. But I shall try somewhat valiantly to conquer this self-destructive behavior and put this phase of my life behind me like a trail of pestilent flatulence.

-------

I was watching golf on Sunday, which I rarely do, but it was on. And decided it was time to actually find out what a "birdie" is...

Bill Nye (the science guy): "DID YOU KNOW???"

birdie: a score of one stroke under par on a hole.
(thank you dictionary.com)

Um...what's "par"?

par: the number of strokes set as a standard for a specific hole or a complete course.
(thank you dictionary.com)

Bill Nye (the science guy): "NOW YOU KNOW!!!"

and just for kicks:

because its abba...

...that's why.

according to our friendly neighborhood environmental nazis...

traveling is a sin:
http://travel.guardian.co.uk/article/2007/may/06/travelnews.climatechange?print

you are a virus:
http://www.news.com.au/story/0,23599,21684156-5009760,00.html

your babies are bad for the environment:
http://www.businessandmedia.org/articles/2007/20070506180903.aspx

the shins

Check them out if you haven't heard of them. Here they are in all their freakish glory:



How can you not listen to a band with a promotional photo like that?

Suggestions: Sleeping Lessons (see playlist --->), A Comet Appears, We Will Become Silhouettes, and Girl Inform Me

Dunst admits sins against humanity...

Ok, I am only joking. Her acting isn't that bad. I did like her in Eternal Sunshine and Marie Antoinette, but the fact that she has come right out and blatantly admitted (bad, bad idea) her lack of believability leaves one to ponder how much effort she actually puts into her job. She has now officially wiped off the on-and-off again "ditz" ink stamp on her forehead and replaced it with a permanent tattoo. She just doesn't seem to get it. There is something airy about her. Her success seems like an accident or an elaborate joke to be revealed by some mischievous, snickering angels in heaven.

But who knows, she could just be hot.

"I just forgive myself for bad acting when it comes to those things." - Kirsten Dunst, in reference to the "blue-screen stuff"

across the universe

"Music is the only thing that makes any sense anymore man. Play it loud enough, it keeps the demons at bay."

I saw this trailer in front of The Hoax this weekend. The music blew me away. Although aesthetically a pleasant ripoff of Moulin Rouge, I am apprehensive about the movie as a whole because it wreaks with irresponsible hippie attitudes. But I am 100% sure that I'll be buying the soundtrack the day it comes out. I love the Beatles, and these renditions of their songs are beyond beautiful, particularly "Hey Jude" (my second favorite Beatles song behind "Yellow Submarine").

So stoked.

"Hey Jude, don't make it bad.
Take a sad song and make it better.
Remember to let her into your heart,
Then you can start to make it better."

"mutt"

My cracker friends tease me
because I am whiter than they.
I get called "brotha" on the street
and I don't know what to say.
Oreo I may be.
A betrayal for all the world to see.
But it's not my fault, brotha,
That I had a white mother.
There's no changing or erasing
the mutt that is me.


I wrote that in a journal entry for one of my classes at school. Haha.