A wholly needless, I expect, link to the main page.
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Monday, September 05, 2005 |
ham bacon pork chop, out you must hop.
I admit I haven't read the comics, and didn't even use the ride* when I went to the 6 flag amusement park,
but I thought I knew a few things about Bat-Man. Isn't his whole thing supposed to be stealth? Of what benefit to anyone but Bat-Man's foes is this? That's not even the kind of light he could use. It only illuminates Bat-Man, and Bat-Man already knows where in relation to Bat-Man's position Bat-Man is. And it's certainly not like those fancy radioactive wings will help him to fly, either. Maybe Bat-Man was demoted to crossing guard. Those jay-walkers are the real menace. I imagine, just because he's such an overachiever, Bat-Man will also help enforce that "Drug Free Zone" roadsign erected outside the school. If I even saw a Bat-Man, let alone one with giant glowing orange wings, I'd probably give up whatever I was smoking for a while.
I suppose its also possible that he had to take a break due to his injury; the Bat-Man to the right has a massively dislocated shoulder. Carrying around fifty pounds of light-up lollipop on his back ought to help that.
*not actual picture of Bat-Man ride machine. The picture I took of it is within the broken computer. Try to understand.
Verizon has taken command of a certain technology, declaring that now music videos, sports clips and movie trailers can all be played on my telephone. Not a one of them a thing I desire, and I actually resent coming into contact with them normally. Worse, I have whined about resenting them previously, so I couldn't even use the machine for inspiration. Music videos are pathetic. Sports clips are boring. Movie trailers are advertisements. I know I wouldn't, but why would you pay money to get a thing which shows that which is designed to make you want to spend more money? Even if you think you're immune, you still have to pay Verizon just to get one of the things, don't you. Yes, please sell me this portable advertisement machine! I just can't handle the 3 second trip between billboards!
"Sports clips," back to them, are not entire sports performances. Just clips. "Clips" being the things which there are entire basic cable channels devoted exclusively to showing, at no additional charge to viewers. True forsooth, I saw the promotion selling this kooky contraption on a network, but I don't imagine Verizon is wagering its entire marketing campaign on the curiosity and antifrugality of the "still waiting out the cable fad" demographic.
While that's going on, what can be heard beside the overvoicer is an audio portion from I guess some new* homage whore's rendition of Video Killed the Radio Star, a song which was bad to begin with, has actually been remade before, and wasn't good then, either. And that title is too long. Who is this radio star struck dead by video, anytay? If that was the first song to be shown on MTV**, then in the metaphoric sense that death wasn't even yet a possibility. Der Buggles just assumed it would happen, even though every major music act of the time had already been on television and survived. Maybe they're going back to the 1940s or something, but most of the ones from then deserved to die, so why dedicate a song to them?
In the physical sense I suppose it's possible Bingo Cladwell or whoever was fatally struck by a Betamax cassette tossed out of a fifth story apartment's window, but if that was the case there'd be a lot more songs than one based on the autopsy results, just because original thought is a more likely cause of death than video among video makers.
Maybe by "video" they don't mean "music video," but video technology itself, even though for its first few years video had no sound, and radio stars would not have been expected to risk its dangers. It would have been more appropriate to claim that audio killed the career of the screen star, as silent film actors didn't always transition well. Maybe there's hope for the world yet that I'm slightly more angry at the twenty-five year old song than the half year old portable whore machine.
*when I wrote that a few months ago it was probably new, but then I forgot I wrote it until the ads came back
**I hope it wasn't the first, because that will mean I haven't actually memorized a correct bit of non-disparaging MTV trivia.
My first grade school newspaper I remember very well, because Miss Haighe, who wasn't as ugly on the outside as that name looks, when I requested to be allowed to attempt to make something for it, informed me that I wouldn't be able to handle it and so I didn't even try. Who apparently could, however, was Joseph Romano, who is credited beside a comic strip in which more-poorly-drawn-than-usual Garfield (yes, that Garfield, what do you think) gets out of bed, walks a bit, turns on a television set, sits in an arm chair and remarks "I love baseball." The end. All right, first of all, no, Garfield does not love baseball. Garfield does not even like baseball. Second, that's not even a joke. Third, that is "by Joseph Romano," but Garfield is not! No one else seemed nearly as bothered as I was. You have to understand, this was 1989, Jim Davis had only made seventeen Garfield books at that point, and the whole thing was slightly less than sacred to me, though my concept of that was highly distorted given the Catholic schooling environment, but still. I had been making my own comic strips, in the class, every day, and I thought they were hilarious. If I ever found them today, I wouldn't understand them, meaning I thought a lot more things were funny back then, so you could have trusted me to know when something wasn't. I don't recall anything of Joseph Romano again until third grade, when I brilliantly concocted the elaborate riddle "why did the burglar paint his hands blue? Because he didn't want to be caught... red handed!" I said this out loud and probably didn't get much of a reaction. Then later on, the same day, during a point that I guess Mrs. Wilson, the humorless wretch, had permitted students to say their irrelevant bits during:
Joseph Ramona's arm+hand go up.
Joseph?
Why did the burglar paint his hands blue?
I don't know. That's probably exactly what I said, too.
Because he didn't want to be caught red handed!
BIG LAFFS.
BUT THAT WAS MY JOKE! MINE MINE MINE! And I didn't copy it out of Highlights magazine or the New Haven Register's "Mini Page" or anything! Ehhh, he didn't even do the pause! I had to act fast. I doubted the teacher, Mrs. Wilson, the fiend, read Highlights. I didn't even read Highlights, really. Just the things with pictures, and of course, the jokes.
Least favorite student I'll make sure gets sent to special education next year?
Hey, would you get angry at me for something I didn't do?
You didn't do your homework.
ARRRRRRRRRRGH! Why did I risk it?! What made it worse was that I did do my homework!
But see. Perhaps, at least on the Garfield issue, I judge too harshly. Even if my comments were true for 1989, people can change.
Were you aware that GARFIELD LOVES PUZZLE FUN? I wasn't. I always thought that Garfield loved eating and sleeping. Though I confess my interest in Garfield waned about the seventy-fifth year, so perhaps there have been some significant character developments and plot twists, as are so common in daily, three-panel, long-running, syndicated comic strips. Another example:
I always thought Odie was supposed to be retarded, and I would not have expected this particular mark of approval to be a thing which we ought to seek out. Or display if we have done something to get ourselves bestowed with. But see, over time, Odie, who lacks any distinction between head and torso, has evolved and surpassed the capabilies of even realistic cartoon dogs, walking on two legs and wearing pants. Garfield, the "smart" one, has not even mastered the trouseral arts. I suppose at this time that knowledge still remains in the realm of puzzle fun, which Garfield loves, and so may well drag out the process of for as long as it might be dragged.
Where do you come from? Americola....??
I hate that guy from the car advertisement. All of them! But today I hate specifically the old guy with glasses. The one who conceals the front of his head for most of the spot and then suddenly uncovers it, as if I'm supposed to be shocked and impressed at what the front of his head is. But it's just that of another old man wearing glasses! And then someone who isn't him says "if you be able to locate a superior vehicle, then without hesitation do purchase it," as if that's bespectacled old guy (henceforth referred to as Guldwarf)'s legendary catchphrase, and I'm supposed to be shocked and amused that someone else said it. Except I've never seen the guy before, nor can I acknowledge that line as being so unique that no one else might ever have come up with it. I suppose I'm supposed to say, "Oh wow, it's that guy I've seen before who says that distinctive phrase and I appreciate seeing this guy again because I love ads so much and am also stupid and I'd purchase a new automobile regardless of personal need or finances based on that!" However, instead of such a sentence, I say something entirely opposite in meaning to it. Uggh. And I must also say that the imposter posing as Guldwarf's granddaughter does a terrible impression of the person. She doesn't sound like Guldwarf at all. Why'd she even bother altering her voice for such a blatant and undeniable failure? The "blatant and undeniable failure" being the result, not Guldwarf, as far as the previous sentence is concerned.THAT'TH MUHGURL! And that's my gold swordfish puncturing your spleen. Nnnih.
In other news, after being sure he'd fully exhausted his supply shilling for Crystal Pepsi or Verizon Wireless or Depends or whatever it was, rapper Snoop the Dog was looking through his attic the other day and found a small phial label'd "Street Cred" he'd misplaced while moving, and decided to sprinkle it about by appearing in the ad series of the previous paragraph. Note how cleverly he alters that oh so famous phrase to make it more terrible. I'm white, and even I know that no one uses "fly" as an adjective anymore. But this brings up a relatively interesting question: If I'm not old enough to remember Guldwarf's original whore-run (assuming that there was one and Guldwarf wasn't made up just now trying to trick me like Paris Hilton was in 2003), what be the chance, that anyone who is [that old], ever found Snoop McDogg Dog in the least appealing? If you aren't old enough either and require a less vague age reference, consider that they're playing golf.
It's called Flightplan, which suggests something to do with air travel and or strategy making, yet all I see are the head and neck of some human of no apparent importance. It's not like you can have a movie with just one character, is it? Maybe if she was wearing a Red Baron aviator head wrapper we'd have something, but as anyone can see, and really all they can see, she is not. She's not in the air, either. I can't tell what that background is, but surely it is inside a building somewhere. And there are buildings everywhere!
I made this big because, if I didn't, then that would violate the 512, 448 and 384 rule I use for all camera images, and then I would have to consider appropriate dimensions for every picture, and some of them might not be multiples of 64, and then where would we be? But also, I wanted to show you that this is the worst movie poster of all this month. The bigger I make it, the more indubitable it becomes that there's no reason for the picture to be that big. In person the sign could not have been less than three feet tall. It tried, and was unable to do so. It's so big, whoever was supposed to hang it up failed, and additionally was too tired to turn the lights on, hence the worse-than-usual image quality and odd colors. Or maybe the head+neck was just really embarrassed to lack a body. I don't even know what the person's name is because the place I saw this poster at was so dark, and I already told you why that was. Pay attention!
For all I know, Flightplan could be a sequel to The Brain that Wouldn't Die. Now that I mention it, there are approximately seventeen-thousand nine hundred twenty two websites with "reviews" of that, and it simply is not feasible that so many people all can have a unique humorous take on one film, nor that they would even attempt to come up with one, knowing how many other pages had tried just that, especially considering that most of them only know about the movie at all from the Mystery Science Theatre Three Thousand, which is also making fun of it. Unless the internet is a haven for unoriginal hacks with absolutely nothing to say, who only gain legitimacy by leeching onto trends and link swapping with other irrelevant whores,
what I found must be the work of devoted, sincere fans, and maybe my suggestion of a follow-up on The Brain is not so absurd. Why, somewhat recently, The Island was a sequel to Parts: The Clonus Horror, despite not being one of the Mystery etc. shows released on videocassette, and thus having slightly fewer pointless online overviews. Golly gee.
Great Moments in History
 August 22, 1988: R'neldo conquers Giant Land
Casualty: one O.
Blistering yetis! It's the barnacle!
I was thinking about the penguin movie some more. I wish I wasn't. Maybe its lack of green is due to the backdrop for the whole thing being a prolonged, really boring CGI implant. I recall during the credits -which I viewed because beside them was footage of the actual humans who followed the penguins around, who merely by having a purpose were infinitely more interesting than the penguins in the film itself- a special effects supervisor was mentioned. I couldn't even recall a plain effect. Now I understand. Penguins don't really live in Antarctica; that would be absurd. If they lived there, like the movie said, like the movie also said, they would spend months at a time standing in one place not eating and freezing nearly to death. Any creature evolutionarily competent to get through that would just move to South America and displace the turtle-beavers or the ostrich-rats or whatever if they had any sense. Similarly, only a twit would journey to Antarctica from elsewhere to record hordes of identical degenerate birds doing nothing. A human evolutionarily competent to endure the boredom / murderous cold would not have gone at all. This would have to be one exceptional twit, otherwise. If we allow that there is one, it is beyond all reason that there are twenty other such exceptional twits, all from France, who combining their twitly skills could put a film together. My new revelation has explained it all. Cooncidentally, I assure you, Melissa Joan Hart will play Revelation in the Lifetime mini-series.
actual penguin habitat
If the misery, morbidity and lies weren't enough (nothing ever is with you), whoever selected the coming attractions obviously didn't see the movie and just thought (wrongly, certainly) "penguins = cute, cute = brainbeaten child target-marketed film," so I was permitted to be bored as well as cruelly mocked. I said I'd complain about the previews later earlier, and later is now. I wanted to wait as long as this could still be "topical" in case I made this better (I didn't.)
There were two seperate threats, a duo of different depraved digital dopefests. The first featured a very ugly squirrel-like-being climbing on what I immediately, correctly, and unfortunately guessed to be a giant ICE AGE 2 logo. The squirrel being punctures the logo which, since it is made of ice, immediately dispenses a patented mixture of Listerine and diaper test fluid.  Naturally. The being attempts to suppress the flow (nevermind why) by covering it, at which point it begins to rush forth from another place. This goes on until the groutesque animal runs out of limbs, not unlike that Porky Pig cartoon with the oil field, and then I stopped talking about it and moved on.
The lack of various badly edited clips guaranteed to amuse someone I in all likelihood would have hated anyway indicates the feature is not finished yet. Good. Take your time. Every extra minute on promoting Ice Age 2 further delays the producing of Ice Age 2, which further delays the promotion of Robots 2.
The next preview I'm more worried about. First, because the animals are even groutesquer and uglier. There must be some contest going on. Also, despite them all being recognizable (at best) as North American creatures, they inexplicably have Mike Myers-brand fake Scottish accents. Ha ha, those are always good for a laugh, right? Excuse me, but I simply cannot accept that voice coming out of anything but an anthropomorphous piece of gum. Or an actual Scot, I suppose. Do those even exist?
Less explicable than American animals talking like Scots might be that the movie is made by Sony, which is from neither place. I should be grateful Crash Bandicorn isn't in it, I suppose. I won't be, because that's still now four untouchable corporations gorking these things out every year.
More brave highlanders infest the title logo. I forgot what the title was, but I suspect in a few months someone beyond my deathmaking grasp will not stop reminding me.
I think the plot-attempt to this piece of cinema is about all the forest dwellers uniting to drive off one game hunter. I always thought they were too busy killing each other to bother ejecting any one entrant from the competition, but that's why I don't make movies (Keep in mind that one of the highest grossing ever began with a scene in which all the creatures that lions eat willingly bow and submit before a single lion they could easily overpower, who intends to eat them eventually, but isn't the "bad" lion).
I think one with South American animals joining together to stop the legions of machines stealing their trees would be more interesting to watch, due to the lesser known animals, and more of an accomplishment if they succeeded, quite honestly. Also, the conflict of the turtle-beavers and ostrich-rats with the coming penguins would be an intriguing subplot.
Next the upper halves of a bear and some kind of goat with one moose antler appear to tell me when the film is coming out, since that's easier than just flashing FALL 2006 on the screen.
Unprofessionlism runs rampant at this point, because the half breed can't say the line right, but the full bad take reel is shown anyway and then the boom microphone appears as the camera zooms out slightly due to the operator moving away from it. You'd think they'd fix that in editing. It's almost like the whole thing was scripted and intentional and the ugly animals are neither actual actors nor on a real film set. But why would you make that up? That would be absolutely retarded, unfunny, and typical of the people who make these kinds of cartoons.
After that, for a nice change, in the stead of ugly, badly drawn, fake animals are ugly, badly cast, actual British children. First a montage of them getting older and uglier, and then a full screen logo telling me the title. On any other day I'd have been imagining a hypothetical me screaming obscene statements, but this time, I truly would have forgiven them if the preview had ended there. It didn't. Some wizardly fellow starts going on about something. I don't recall specific words, but my recollection of vague words and also vague images is something like this:
Whoever fights off the  Blue Madeline squad and finds the wizard's rare 1982 McDonald's giveaway Garfield glass in the big hedgemaze will have eternal prestige at Warthog's bar and grill or whatever. You know, I went to school for a few years myself, and I can tell you that eternal prestige there means not a bit to anyone else after you leave or any other students while you're still there. The student government can't even declare war on the Chess Club. Right. It would not be fair of me to judge the book upon which this is based (nor necessary, since I did that two years ago), but I can definitely say I'd love to pour two gallons of wet sand onto whoever came up with this movie. After some more ugly British children and the wizard saying more stuff, there are a few brief scenes of a couple different monsters screaming at the camera. Why can't the movie be just about monsters? No! Stop. I didn't mean that. Why can't the movie be just about non-allegorical monsters who don't think they're clever?
And why? The reason this can't happen, at least in Amelica, appeared immediately in the form of a new, unnecessary King Kong remake. Gorillas are boring. Making them really large does not change that. Although King Kong does fight a Tyranosaurus, King Kong probably wins. I like dinosaurs better.
That's not even the end. In the darkened hallway outside the big screen room there was a poster for another movie about disgusting, malformed, joketelling computer beasts who sound like celebrities. Where the doohickey were they hiding all those years? Did they just evolve suddenly in the late 1990s? They were never so smug and actual-people-I-hate-ish when I was your age.
Ah, divider, good again to see you it is.
. . . . . . ohh-kay. . .
I suppose it's good that people are inspired to claim to have now quit doing the smoking by Peter Jennings getting dead*, but really, what did they THINK lung cancer did? Oh wow, you mean it kills people? Like every other kind of cancer? I had no idea. I thought lung cancer was on our side. I thought that was the good cancer. Even though other people have also become dead from it. I thought it was like the Tropic of Cancer, and I always liked that game Startropics. It's actually one of the more effective cancers out there. It was even "best cancer" at nine of the last twelve Illies. Usually I will claim that awards are trash and mean nothing, but it's hard to argue with such results, and any suggestion containing "hard" is too hard, as I said once before.
I've exchanged words with several cigarette users who aren't twits (or at least not in comparison to me), so my complaint at this time is not with smokers in general, but merely ones who thought there was nothing wrong with it until a few weeks ago. Those warnings on every box? Those are meant to be ironic. Oh yeah, the surgeon general actually said that. Sure. Cigarette smoking really Causes Lung Cancer, Heart Disease, Emphysema. Yup. Yesindeedilydiaper, birth defects are undesirable. Okay, boss. Whatever you say, Meeply. As for those obnoxious truth dätcäm non-ads which have been showing for years; those are a ploy by the very supposed tobacco company people being blurred out in them to tempt people like me who've never even owned cigarette lighters to start inhaling carbonaceous particles out of spite.
*it turns out Jennings did not have gonorrhea, as I reported several months ago. Or at least, if he did, that was in addition to and of less concern than the cancer.
This week's electronic dig turned up an outhouse, which has archaeologists particularly excited.
This had an introduction, but it was dumb. Much like what I'm doing now, but longer.
Right.
Energy Points of Conservation:
- If you see any fireflies, harshly scold them.
- Only use the small batteries
- Don't drive against the wind
- Leave your turn signal alone. No one looks at those anyway.
- Only listen to accoustical music CDs.
- Air conditioners are especially decadent. Have some concubines fan you with giant leaves instead
- Give your computer a rest. Only play low impact ascii DOS games.
- Wear more expensive armor (Don't forget to equip it before leaving. Items are no good if you don't equip them!)
- Insulate your lamp shades
- Nintendo Power magazine won't waste electricity, but it will rape you, so don't buy it.
- Turn off your magnifying glass when you're not using it.
- For pog's sake, don't drink Red Bull
- Digital camera users: carry a flower around and utilize natural photosynthesis.
- Keep an eye out for fiends from the Negaverse.
- If you are a robot, find a safe place and shut down for a few days
- Not energy related, but save and bottle your perspiration. Hospitals can use it.
- When playing NES Contra, turn off the game immediately after level five.
- Deactivate your electric fence on weekends (but don't tell anyone).
- Rewire all your appliances so to disable their various lighted indicators. You know when they're on.
- Reconsider your choice of embarrassing line dance for your company picnic.
- When you come to Electric Avenue, turn around. This might be a good idea for the rest of the year, as well.
- Store all your solar-power calculators in a well shaded area.
- East Haven Residents: Turn off your Christmas lights.
- If you land on Electric Company in a game of Monopoly, try to have rolled ones.
- Don't rub balloons on your head unless you are bald.
If I find out later that some of these are from some webpage I read years ago and forgot about, then I will make sure to hope you didn't also read it.
Ever since his first bits of popularity almost ten years ago, people have not been able to agree on whether Adam Sandler is a legitimate comedian or not. I put forth to you now that he is legitimate, comedian or not.
Adam Sandler has a very important role in this world: Keeping Rob Schneider employed. Since before the advent of recorded history (this website), Adam Sandler, as producer, executive producer and productive executioner has either put out movies with Rob Schneider as a highly visible yet entirely inconsequential supporting character, or an even highlier visible inconsequential main character. The latest in this series is Deuce Bigalow, You're a Peon Gigolo® (Giggolo is a registered trademark of the Jell-HO™ Gelatin Company) There are like five advertisements for this movie, all with the EXACT SAME CLIPS. The order will be different, the background music will be different, the voiceover will be different, but the clips remain constant. Because, you see, a complete idiot might like the clips but refuse to see a movie with certain music played over the clips. How many times have you said, "gee whillickers, I'd love to see these same jokes again with 70 additional minutes of forgettable spagghettio® filler linking them together, but only if I see the clips one more time before that with different music that I like better?" (SpaghettiOs is a registered trademark of the Campbell's™ Soup Company.) No, don't even answer that. This commercial campaign would not have been invented were your answer anything other than "all the time" or some alternate phrasing of that. And that's the end of this paragraph.
One of the ads, in addition to the same clips as another Deuce Bigelow ad, in an unprecedented and entirely ineffectual move, has the same exact "At uh-lahasst!" song as a Fancy Feast® ad (Fancy Feast is a registered trademark of Soci�t� des Produits Nestl�? The candy company? What the hwah?). Fancy Feast being a cat-food which I can personally vouch for being every bit as likely to elicit actual cries of "at last" upon its arrival as Rob Schnaidor movies, in addition to being 50% fancier than Rob Schnydur movies, were you to attempt to eat one.
In one scene, Doose meets a woman who has undergone a tracheostomy or laryngectomy or something hilarious like that. She says "nice to meet you" and Sol-Deuce is all like "wha...?" because the woman needs to use a mechanical apparatus to speak, and the voice emitted sounds similarly mechanical, and you see this is why the movie is classified in the comedy category. There actually is a person who lives near where I do who has to use one of those things, and one time she said something to me and I laughed at her for hours outside her home later. But in the movie, whenever that person tries to have a sip of red-tinted prop water, a gallon of similar fluid bursts forth from her neckwound. I assume most of it is blood and the woman then drops dead on the floor, propelled backward by the blast and weakened from the intense unstoppable comical bleeding. I imagine in the actual film the whole encounter takes ten minutes rather than three seconds and is even funnier. Or perhaps it's part of a montage in which various disabled whorenet-users conveniently forget their impairments for the sake of briefly amusing you and lenghthily killing themselves. I imagine a woman in a wheelchair suddenly forgets she can't walk, falls, and cannot get up. She then recaps recent events and is run over by a steamroller. Another person forgets she's allergic to peanuts and dies trying to win the world record for Smirker bar consumption (M&M Mars™ Chocolate Company inexplicably withdrew their endorsement). Ha ha, stupid dead ladies.
Still, I have to think that if there was a movie about a woman in the same profession facing similar situations called "Lenore Dintymoore®, Door to Door Whore," surely people would complain (Dinty Moore is a registered trademark of the Geo. A Hormel™ Weird Stuff Shoved in a Can Company) People like to complain.
Complain of ACCURACY! Oh yes, it is the very IDEA of a man as a prostitute that is eliciting of mirthful reactions! How absurd! Every sensible person knows that is a woman's job! Just as you do by cycling the background music behind the same clips, merely by switching the woman with a man, you have completely altered the balance of zaniness!
Therefore, it is funny!
INDEED!
Similarly, if the title didn't rhyme, he'd have to get a different job. Even with the same brilliant script and the same brilliant casting of the same brilliant actors, Deuce Bigelow, Slut, would be a terrible movie.
Have you not seen March of The Penguins, but desire to? You fool. I warn you: that is an extremely accurate title.
Here's a general summary for you:
Penguins walking.
Ice.
Penguins waiting.
Ice.
Penguins walking again.
Someone who hopefully doesn't really look like this detailing all the different ways they die.
Ice. You know what, I think I like the ice best.
Ehhh, is that what this is about? People are so cheezdoodled by the northern hemisphereal heat that they'll pay money just to look at cold things?
There is honestly nothing to see here. Well, every once in a while one of the penguins falls down in a non fatal way and someone behind me laughs. Evidently that never gets old if it's unscripted and actually causing another being pain.
The only reason this was playing at a theatre around here is because Hasbro CEO Flim Flam McSham, while trying to bring about a retro Nerf craze by targetting a fully operational air-pressure hand pump powered orange foam radar and missile-defense-system with the trend-o-lazer, tripped over a
weasel ball, accidentally shooting a convex mirror. The beam somehow managed to bounce off of five hundred more convex mirrors until at last striking an abandoned reel of x millimetre film some french hobo was wearing as a hat (for the film is of french origin despite being filmed in a place with penguins). The rest, as they say, is all lies.
It's not a bad movie about penguins; I'm sure compared to other penguin movies it has a much larger screen. It's just a bad movie, that is about penguins.
It's about as inspirational, meaningful and full of unique, unpredictable behaviours as any nature film: not at all. The major differences are that it takes a lot longer for less to happen and you have to pay money to get in which will not be returned to you if you attempt to salvage your day before the film ends. The penguins all do the same things, the same things they've always done. Not just because they'll die if they don't; many of them die if they do. They all do the same things because they don't think to try anything else. Now I want to die too. O'Rourke, could we get some green in here somewhere? I think I saw some purple when one of the penguins bled, but its spectrum opposite is nowhere in sight.
I hate penguins. Due to, not so much this as people inspired by it, I was inclined to hate penguins anyway, but until now I only hated fictional penguins. This is a unique hate in that I don't want the penguins to die. I saw them die, and that didn't help.
I'll tell you about the previews later. Because I hate you, too.
Talking to yourself again, Graham?
 I love the boxes of juke found at modern diner-restaraunts. Not just their selection, but the philosophy behind them. Gor, i wish i could pay money to hear the songs i can't escape from, for free, everywhere else!
Also on the very same page: Shaneyo twain and Maroon S. you might think I'd be offended to find these so thoughtlessly intermingled with Franksi Natra songs, but i was never impressed with him, either. Or any of his ilks.
Big deal. So what. Some of them don't even really sing. Tony Bennett is just a really slow arrythmic rapper, and I don't even like fast rappers who 1) do it well and 2) are done sooner. Uig. Just the mention of Mr. Bennett and the other guy, who I don't even appreciate enough to know if one is correct in grouping them together, just reminds me of the 1950s. Any episode of The Flintstones with a band in it, featuring specifically the ba-doom-doom-doom-doom ah-ba-doom-doom-doom-doom" gangly dorfus bass player who won't stop twitching. I want to throw a stale muffin at that guy. And then that always brings to my mind an unshakable, perhaps a bit unfounded (only a bit), image of reprehensible people gathered together in dark rooms together, around really small tables, accomplishing nothing, whose only joy comes from drinking alcoholic beverages, demanding respect and declaring that the world was perfect in the 1950s. "Remember Sammy and Dean and Ol' Blue Eyes? Remember more strictly enforced gender roles? Remember separate water fountains? Remember asbestos insulation? Remember bomb drills?" They've long since had every conversation they're ever going to have. I may survive long enough to be that way, but I'll thankfully be doing it alone, because I hate now most of the things anyone else will be reminiscing about later. I hope some young punkish ingrate strikes me dead if I ever get so deranged that I forget, not only having said this, but also what I actually did back then now, and join in fondly recalling Keith Olberman and Lara Croft.
Cinnamon, I'm old now. Tomb Raider is probably considered "classic gaming" in 2005, isn't it. The future I once feared is now not only in the past, but the present and also still the future. What have I been doing?
That's about enough out of you!
I hate Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. I hate the song, I hate the television special, I hate the character. Although I did see the special ("special" rightfully being an adjective) in its entirety once, that was long enough ago that the following should be every bit as accurate an assessment as my comments regarding quite a few animated productions of recent but prefereably forgotten memory. Ehhh...
I don't know if the song was written for the movie or the movie was based on the song (neither being forgivable), but it bothers me the way song lines are written in as dialogue. "Alright, people! From now on, never let poor Rudolph join in any reindeer games!" It just sounds weird (especially that one character who can't resist jumping in with "like a lightbulb!" whenever the title character's nose's unusual properties are mentioned). And why reindeer games? I get that they are games played by reindeer, but I don't buy that the reindeer themselves would use such terminology. Certainly, unless you start right now out of spite for me, no one calls Gator Golf, Tiddly Winks or Benstein 3D human games.
There's that elf who wants to be a dentist, and also a fashion designer, which I gather from every elf other than that one wearing the same thing. Also, their eyes are smaller. You'd think Herbie would be inspired to become an optometrist instead over this detail, but if you were writing the script and also thinking, you probably wouldn't have put Herbie in it at all. The instant I see that wimple Herbie I know it's inevitable that this is a thing I'll have to deal with later. I look at this big sweatshop assembly line and ask meinself, which of these elves might Scooby Doo be hiding in?
'Ey, you want to becim a dintist, Herbald? Fine, get your own movie. I'm not interested in you, because you look dumb and contribute nothing. What's that? You can remove sasquatch teeth? Good job, you went out and bought pliers. What're you going to use to stop the bleeding? Your doofly elf hat? And what to numb the area to reduce the pain of the operation? Oh, you can put the patient to sleep recapping your portion of the plot. Do you have any mediocre magazines from five years ago? But you need some of those! Tell you what, you stay with the elves, and I'll give you a call if I run into any snow monsters with toothaches. Ha, ha, ha! Stupid Herbie.
The only good character is college basketball hero Uconn Cornelius, even if only by comparison and because of his last name. Even the trouser-less snowman narrator can't say it without laughing. "Oh-ho, thahh-ht Cornelius..." but right at that moment, something scary happens "... all he ever seems to think about is silver and gold. S-s-s-silver and gold?! Uck...! Ih...! Aah...! Silver and gold, silver and gold, almost as great as mildew and mold... Needless song cues are not just painful to those made to watch.
I declare that there is no reason to watch this, because there are plenty of other Corneliuses out there who do not associate with red-nosed reindeer or elf dentists.
Why do people always make "eeeuuuwgh" sounds at the thought of drinkable urine? I thought the whole thing that made the idea of drinking urine gross was the undrinkable aspect. Once when I was ill, as punishment my mother gave me a small quantity of Yellow Triaminic to absorb into myself in some way. I don't consider myself to have drank it so much as swallowed it.
Must research more.
Probably won't.
Sounds like fun!!!
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