Transparent concrete. (via travelers’ diagram)
I’m taking this. This is now mine.
I must recommend the Russ Meyer classic “Beyond the Valley of the Dolls”, which my friend Ed screened for me and D on Friday (after an aborted attempt to meet Ron Jeremy).
So much great slang! So much great jump-cut editing!! And so much great girl-band go-go neo-surf rock!!!
A true masterpiece. Complete with a boatload of big titties.
Another good flick viewed on the weekend: Millenium Actress! (which I believe my unwitting host has raved about elsewhere on this site)
Nothing like time-shifting, reality-bending Japanese anime that uses an interview with an old actress as its narrative spine. Top-drawer, all the way.
In other news, I’m at that point where all my good cotton socks have been sullied, and must wait patiently in the wicker hamper to be taken to the laundromat for cleaning.
This leaves me with only itchy, too-hot wool socks (those hippie ones that are grey with a red stripe around the ankle [you often see them paired with Birkenstocks on chilly spring days]), a situation that makes me grumpy.
Perhaps I should buy more socks. Cool, pleasing, cottony socks. Then all will be right with the world.
An editor I work with just showed me a Jeanne Beker fashion column that opens with a September 11 anecdote.
Call me insensitive, but I’m getting a little sick of the way Sept 11 has wormed its way into literally EVERYTHING these days. Honestly, what the fuck does a terrorist attack on a couple of buildings have to do with clothes!??! Unless she’s saying something like, “As the twin towers fell, hemlines rose!”, I don’t wanna read it.
Don’t you love it when it stops being dark at five in the afternoon? This has been my first year at a steady, 9-5 (okay, 5:30) Monday-to-Friday gig, and the last few months have been really odd, simply because I’ve left work after dark everyday. Let me tell you, nothing kills a day quicker than walking out of your place of business into blackness.
Ugh. My dog ran me ragged this morning. All he wanted to do was run and run and run and run and then run some more. Which meant I had to run as well.
And now my calves hurt.
Long day. Or at least, it felt long.
All I want to do is go home, eat a nice meal, watch Buffy, put my feet up, read for awhile and then go to sleep with my lady.
So that’s what I’m gonna do….
You know, I’m not entirely sure why I’m doing this.
Been having great fun with the website thefunnypages.com.
They give you a one-panel comic, you write a caption, and everyone votes for their favourites.
But instead of writing “jokes”, I’ve just been writing “nonsense”. Things like “I once had a pony named Charles” and “Could anyone direct me to the nearest T.G.I.Friday’s? I could just murder a peach daquiri!”
What can I say — intentionally unfunny stuff makes me giggle.
I’ve recently become re-obsessed with the computer game “Tropico”. Basically, you play the dictator of a Caribbean island. I like it because you can zoom in super-close and just follow your citizens around as they go about their daily business. I also like because I can be a total prick, drive them like slaves, treat my military like gold and “eliminate” anyone who complains.
Ahh, videogames. I like to think of them as society’s safety valve for anti-social behaviour (see also: Grand Theft Auto 3)
Spent the weekend sleeping and eating, with occasional walks with the dog thrown in for good measure.
Also played yet more Grand Theft Auto 3. Best game since Metal Gear Solid, and that’s saying a lot.
Found ya, you little rascal!
A squatter, on my land.
Carry on then, although new developments on the front page may render you more visible than you might wish. (recent comments list)
So, while I’m here, how’s it going, Bags?
What up, what up. You guys mind if I hang out over here too? What was this post about anyway?
Doesn’t really matter now. Let’s just let it all hang out, man. Bags, can we crash at your pad, dude?
Maybe we scared him off. Oh well, I’m gonna hang out back here anyway.
Big hockey game today. People from work are hitting a bar. Me, hopefully I’ll get done doing the billboards – those things where it goes “Program X is brought to you by suchandsuch corporation, corporate tagline”? Someone has to make those, and that’s me. Grunt work, I tells ya.
If I work quickly, beer and hockey will be my reward.
Good lord, this evening could be a disaster…
Hey boys! Welcome to my corner of the web. Can you get anyone some ice water? Anyone need to make a phone call? I shall spare no expense to make you feel at home!
What up King? How’s life in your world?
Hmm. My posts went all Jacob Two-Two on me. Strange…
The server’s acting all weird on me today. When I have a chance I’ll clean up in here.
First Wave is brought to you by the all-new Saturn VUE. At home in almost any environment.
What the?!!? I thought First Wave was brought to me by Danone Yogurt!!! Those Saturn bastards!!!!!
“brought to you by” is the euphemism of the century. (or would that be “special,” especially Nazi useage thereof?)
Well it was a blowout last night. Not necessarily a disaster. Great game, what? J-chap’s party was pretty saucy too. Good to see you there mr. king.
Well, I spent the last three weeks doing little more than writing writing writing. But now my first issue of “Famous Kids” (coming soon to a Famous Players theatre near you!) is rolling off the presses, and so is the latest issue of “Premiere Video Magazine” (a crappy videostore trade mag that I write [in its entirety] every month).
Whew. Now I can finally relax and put my feet up. Literally. Putting my feet up on my desk is possibly my favourite thing about my job. Just makes me feel so fatcat.
“You will taste the black sperm of my vengeance.”
Whatta fuckin’ line!!
Agreed. “Black sperm of my vengeance” is just such a delightful turn of phrase. Good ole Russ Meyer.
On another note, I just got booted from a right-wing American politics website for posting fake news stories on their discussion board. My favourite was one called “Chuckles the Clown Just Can’t Get Enough Mangoes”, in which I described one clown’s love for mangoes. At one point, I quoted Chuckles as saying, “I just love biting into a juicy, sweet mango. It makes me feel like I’m eating a baby’s skull.”
More evidence that clowns = child-hating ninjas who learn to kill at clown college and speak their own secret language.
The Seven Minutes is another great one. Hot smoke, is it good. None of the slammin’ lines, but so tightly paced, edited etc., and exploring issues that are obviously close to his heart (censorship). A Russ Meyer courtroom drama!
Bags! Where art thou?
What can I say Mr.D — I’ve just been out of words lately!
I’ve also been busy house-hunting *and* planning a wedding. Aren’t I a proper little grown-up?
That you are sir. Whereas I am a glorified teenager. Hell, die young, leave a beautiful corpse, that’s my motto.
I actually think of you more as a glorified pre-teen. What with your Tiger Beat pull-out posters and your predilection for Freddy Prinze Jr. movies.
I’m getting into Hello Kitty now too. Am I getting younger or something?
Okay, it seems I prefer it back here to the front page of my own blog. There is something wrong with me.
Nothing wrong with that! Behind-the-scenes shit is always more fun….
I have a friend who’s also quite “into” Hello Kitty. She’s got a sweet Hello Kitty portable stereo, but has yet to get her hands on the legendary Hello Kitty “personal massager” (read: candy-coloured dildo).
Other merchandising possibilities include: the Hello Kitty Defender (handgun), Hello Kitty Personal Pouch (heroin smuggling kit)
Let’s not forget Hello Kitty! Goodbye World! (the cute as a button doomsday device)
So, yeah, this has been quite a night.
“The Chummies”. Aah, enough of that.
Peter Pan syndrome continues unabated, with purchase of teen-style jeans and t-shirt combo.
Mounting addiction to walnut cakes. Unrelated?
Walnut cakes?!!?? Boy, have you lost your mind? Walnut cakes are — I will admit — quite pretty to look at, what with their walnutty shape and all. But they taste kinda like a donut filled with melted-down Goodyear tires.
Heh. I know you hate them. What can I say? Have you tried the red bean ones?
Korean pankakes are also grrreat. Korean seaweed cookies, on the other hand…
Can’t say I’ve tried the red bean ones.
Personally, the only thing I’m waiting to try is Escape Velocity Nova (thanks for the tip, D! I’ve been watching their news site for months waiting for the beta test to end!).
Maybe I’ll go home tonight, download it on the girly-girl’s iBook, and play well into the wee hours…..
Did you play it? Argh, wish I had a chance to..
New 10gig iPod is released! And I am drooling over it.
Not yet! I was so conflicted the other night — I had to choose between EV Nova or the 11-film Studio Ghibli DVD boxset loaned to me by a guy at work.
Studio Ghibli is an anime studio in Japan that has produced (among others) Porco Rosso, Kiki’s Delivery Service, Princess Mononoke, Laputa and My Neighbour Totoro (all by the great Hayao Miyazaki).
Needless to say, the anime won out. I watched Grave of the Fireflies, a story about a boy and his baby sister who get orphaned during WW2. Unbelievably beautiful and totally heartbreaking.
Can’t believe I’m saying this, but EV Nova may have to wait ’till the next ten flicks are done…
And don’t worry Sanks — I’m already planning a screening of the choicest ones for you!
Hmm. That last sentence made little to no grammatical sense at all. Oh well. Like anyone’s gonna notice bad grammar on a website…
Buttercakes. I’d love to see some of those.
Buttercakes. Reminds me of the waffle Homer wrapped around a stick of butter when he stayed home from church.
Of course, if you like Buttercakes, you’ll love Mayo Muffins.
Ugh. Why can’t I shake this fucking cold! Came down with a sore throat eight days ago, felt like total shite six days ago, kinda felt better three days ago, started feeling crappy yesterday, and now I’m back to feeling like total shite.
Grrrrrr!!!! And my slowass internet connection at home keeps kicking out while downloading EV:Nova! Guess it’s just gonna be one of those weeks (although I did win my office Oscar pool).
More RM madness: Beneath the Valley of the Ultravixens. His last film, so far (I’m not sure I believe in the existence of “Pandora Peaks”). Late-period RM films are intense. He was trying to pull out all the stops and compete with the art porn that was hitting big in the 70s, such as Deep Throat, Devil and Miss Jones, and The Opening of Misty Beethoven. The films aren’t as good as his 60s technicolor masterpieces or the black & white backwoods dramas, often because they are more overt. He preferred the sizzle to the steak, as the saying goes.
Opening scene: old man playing piano, crosscut with babe playing Pong; man leaves piano, which reveals itself to be a player piano and keeps playing; puts on religious album; says “Fraulein, if you please;” she begins a sexy dance; he gets into a coffin and puts a sheet over himself (with eyes cut out), he views the dance; scene ends with the two of them having sex in the coffin while singining “give me that old time religion.”
I finally am. Can’t believe how long that fucking cold stuck around.
As for the existence of “Pandora Peaks” — I can certainly verify her existence (if the not the existence of her film). I saw photos of her once upon a time in an issue of Playboy that had an article on Mr. Meyer (what can I say — my older brother brought home a lot of “presents” from the frat house he lived in). I’m also pretty sure I walked past her on Bay Street a couple of years ago. She lives in Toronto, and there’s no way there are two women in this city with tits that humongous (they really were quite intimidating in person).
In other news, I watched Donnie Darko last night, and I’m here to tell you that it’s a crying shame that movie got shafted at the box office like it did (it never even got a theatrical release in Canada!). Very interesting film, and very well-made. Check it out.
In even more other news, I watched Showgirls two nights ago, and I’m here to tell you it’s simultaneously both the best and worst movie ever made. Never have I seen so much nudity and so little eroticism. And Kyle Maclachan is now officially the Crappiest Actor Of All Time.
That is all.
Yeah that’s the thing, the Peaks thing: did he name a film after a porn star? I guess the star of “The Immoral Mr. Teas” is listed as Bill Teas and suchandsuch…
I’m here to tell you that I’m telling you that “With Friends Like Harry” is shit-hot, and “Made” is not. I’ve never seen Showgirls, although I did see Hollow Man in an empty theatre.
I actually thought Made was passably amusing. I really liked the way Favreau and Vaughn played off each other, and Vaughn has to be the best clueless-but-totally-cocky character in a long time.
I’ve got Hollow Man sitting on a shelf here at work. It’s the only Hollywood Verhoeven film I haven’t seen, and I’m kinda afraid that it’s gonna suck huge. I just love that man so much — RoboCop, Total Recall, Starship Troopers — there’s nobody else out there who does such a good job of blending comic book sci-fi, gender politics, corporate satire and black comedy. Of course, I pretend that Basic Instinct never happened….
I liked Hollow Man. Then again, an empty theatre is pretty much the ideal place to watch such a film. I don’t know, seeing Kevin Bacon play such a total asshole was quite a thing – it takes him like five minutes of being invisible before he starts sneaking around and groping women.
Well, let’s be honest. How long would you have to be invisible before you found yourself sneaking into women-only gyms? Me, I’d say about 14 seconds.
Hmm, it may be time to have a look at this again.
Don’t watch the video, just read all the articles. (Although you probably have already.)
Well, they showed Highlander II: The Quickening on Space last night.
There I was, flipping around late at night thinking about finishing a Graham Greene novel, when suddenly I come across good old Christopher Lambert. I watched the first fifteen minutes, and my head almost exploded.
First there’s a ridiculous pre-opening credits set-up involving an ozone shield that blocks out the sun (effectively raising temperatures and humidity… but…. um… wasn’t that what the ozone depletion was doing already? It’s like they decided to speed up the process). Then there’s the ludicrous “the Highlander is really an alien” twist, which basically contradicts everything in the first film. And then was “the Quickening”, which, as far as I could tell, basically involved a John the Baptist-esque Connery anointing the Highlander as the saviour with glowing liquid.
That’s when I turned it off and finished my book.
You missed a lot of fun then. You didn’t see any hot Michael Ironside action? When he comes to earth?
Can’t believe you didn’t watch the whole thing.
But hey! The “renegade” version of it is on sale at HMV. Thought I’d never find it. Now, I just have to figure out if it’s worth $30 to learn a little more about this century’s biggest Crime Against Film.
I should have prefaced my comments by stating that I saw the whole thing a few years ago, so I didn’t feel too bad about turning it off.
I actually saw Michael Ironside’s first appearance — it was his leering visage that made me lunge for the “off” button. If I were a younger man, I would have had the energy to make it all the way through a second time. But I’m getting old and it was late and my ability to ironically enjoy trash (which is normally immeasurable) was surprisingly low that day.
Although I will admit, I think I want to watch it again. Preferably with some company, however. Up for a viewing, Sankey? (I’ll kick in some loot if you pony up for the “Renegade” version….)
Yes, we should do this. Set date for renegade viewing.
And stop it about how you’re getting old. (Note to self: take bags out for Li’l Bow-Wow concert followed by all-night clubbing. Bring sparkles and lollipops!)
Note to self: take D out for Bocci Ball competition, followed by all-afternoon napping. Bring fedoras and multi-vitamins.
Dude, you know I can get behind the napping. I’m all about napping!
You’ve GOT to admit… my shit is heavvvvvvyyyy!!!
I’m in the middle of my two crappiest weeks at work ever, and the only thing that’s keeping me going is repeating that phrase to myself over and over again. Thanks, blacksplotation (and D)!
So you know those Pizza Hut commercials for the “P’Zone”? The ones where the fast-talking black dude runs around singing the praises of their new, over-sized calzone?
I’m infuriated by the fact that he says: “It’s mozzarella cheese and tantalizing toppings, SANDWICHED [he really yells that part] calzone-style!”
If you take pizza dough, add cheese and toppings, and then sandwich it like a calzone…. doesn’t that make it a calzone?
Apparently not, ’cause this is the P’Zone (aka: an everyday calzone that has been “branded”). Fuck I hate capitalism sometimes.
Now c’mon, it’d be the same thing under brutal, godless Communism, except maybe the thing would be called the “Sloppy Stalin” or some such.
I’m a big fan of Triconglobal corp – that’s right, your favourite TexMex discounter, your favourite pizza deep-fryer and the vanguard of GMO uberchicken battering, all under one multinational roof! All three “brands” are devoted to food experimentation in their respective fields.
But the freaky thing is the slogan, “our passion is to put YUM on people’s faces all around the world.” Don’t tell me they don’t know what that sounds like. Food preverts.
BTW I got an invitation from Hasselhoff and Coleman, and I’ve GOTS to go!
That shit is heavvvyyyyyyyyy….
I consider myself officially RSVPed….
Hey, what’s going on? You guys said, like three months ago now, that we were gonna hang out.
We’ve been hanging out. Where were you?
This is what you meant by hanging out? Like, by writing here I’m “hanging out?”
So…anybody got any weed?
Well, we do this, and occasionally hook up for beers, grass, snacks, vids, smack, crack, poppers, dynamite, hookers, disco, the ol’ disco, the old man…
Sorry, where was I? Is it time to go to work yet?
King, I always have weed. You only have to ask….
In the midst of a hectic couple o’ months (I’m getting hitched in two-and-a-half weeks and moving into a new pad the very next weekend — it’s an ultra-low-key wedding, but thanks to our mutual procrastination we’ve got our hands full), I decided to take a break last night.
And what better way to relax than with the Black Hole of Television — CityTV’s Late Great Movies? The flick last night was none other than the classic videogame-inspired opus “Street Fighter”, and I’m here to tell you that it is one craptacular piece of filmmaking.
The story is (obviously) nonsensical. But it’s nonsensical to the degree where it manages to loop back on itself, Mobius Strip-style, and become strangely appealing.
Then again, maybe I was just amazed at how many of the old videogame characters I was able to remember — Blanca, Ryu, Guile, Cammy — the names rolled off my tongue like a catechism (of course, ask me to recite Shakespeare, and you’re outta luck…).
I was particularly pleased with Raul Julia (in his final role) as the totally insane M. Bison. Rarely have I seen an actor throw himself so completely into a part that he clearly knows is ludicrous beyond a shadow of a doubt. The scene where he tries to pay off an arms dealer with “Bisondollars” is particularly sublime.
All in all, I’d have to say this is my favourite movie based on a videogame. Although the Alyssa Milano scenes in “Double Dragon” are pretty sweet too….
Okay. Now this is just wierd. Two days after viewing Double Dragon, I turn on the TV late at night to do a little flipping, only to come across TBS’s showing of… Mortal Kombat: Annihilation.
At least Double Dragon had the good sense to attempt to add a story to their threadbare plot concept — MK:A simply introduced an endless parade of characters and had them fight. Special moves from the game were in full effect, and the entire thing was set in one big videogame-esque environment (it seemed like every other fight took place on a bridge of some sort).
Sounds delightful, no? Well… no. After only ten minutes, I felt like I was watching WWF (oops, I mean WWE) with CGI effects. Admittedly, it was kinda fun watching no-name actors grapple with dialogue like: “Princess Kitana is the key! Without her, we cannot defeat Shao Kahn!!” and “I’ll meet you at the Temple of the Elder Gods!”, but even that only got me so far.
All I can say is, if I flip on the telly tonight and see Dennis Hopper as King Koopa, I’m taking it as some kinda sign….
My Mr. Show DVD arrived yesterday: seasons 1 & 2 on DVD. goddamned good.
I hope there will be monkeyboxing at your wedding, Mr. Bags. At the very least, some monkeyslapping. And yes, I’d love to see Street Fighter the movie. Nothing like high class actors doing vidgame characters – can it be long before Brando plays the frog in Parrapa the Rapper: the Movie?
Actually, we just replaced our preacher with a Howler Monkey, so the entire ceremony is gonna be nothin’ but monkeyslapping! No monkeyboxing though — I consider it a little too gauche for such an important occasion…
Had a fun bachelor party on Saturday, and I’ve got the vomit-stained shirt to prove it!
To quote Oprah Winfrey’s character in The Color Purple: “I’s married now!”
Marriage apparently means an end to Maggo’s Secret Blog™.
What’s that, Maggo? Your “wife” doesn’t like you geeking it up on the “computer” anymore? She’s sick of my damn “website”?
No, dear Sanko. I’m just too swamped at work these days (I’m on the computer all day at work, so I never surf from home). It seems that my boss thought writing and editing 16 magazines a year wasn’t ENOUGH work, so I’ve been given all kinds of other shit to do.
Anyway, hopefully I’ll have my shit under control soon, and then I can rejoin the online world with both panache and style.
Alrighty then, you poor bastard. Although, as long as you have panache, you can skip the style.
My long day at work yesterday (and the day before) has just been compounded by what was quite possibly my Worst Night of Sleep Ever ™.
Tossed and turned from 11 until 3:30, at which point I got up and read in a vain attempt to restore the all-important “sleepiness” factor.
Unsurprisingly, I started feeling tired right around 6:40… exactly twenty minutes before I had to get up come back to (you guessed it) another day at work. And I’ll probably be here late again tonight.
Yay! A solid eight hours of sleep was achieved last night!!
Good old sleep. Nothing beats sleep.
Sleep sucks. Great Nas lyric: “I never sleep / cause sleep is the cousin of death.”
Now that’s paranoid.
Usually I would agree with you vis a vis sleep. Most nights I view sleep as “giving up” on the day, but three shitty nights of minimal snoozing can make one very in favour of the whole concept of getting some shuteye.
But now I’m back to normal, so I’ll be forcing myself to stay up late all weekend to make up for lost time…
I thought I was a stranger in these parts, and then I stumble across ol’ mageebags??
*Sigh* Even the net is getting too small these days…
Anyway, nice to see you, and congrats on your conjugality (albeit very belated). The china set I sent you must have gotten lost in the mail…
So you’re the marijke from a certain magazine? Howdy! (OK I know you’re not talking to me here, but still.)
Maggo, for some reason I just reread this entire thread, and this comment of yours made me finally go and do it. I’ve made a QuickTime clip of that pimp cat saying that line he says. To be uploaded soon.
“for some reason”
I.e., Friday afternoon office slowmotion syndrome. This place is a ghost town. Maybe I’ll go find Kinger…
D, if we’re posting to your blog, aren’t we always sort of talking to you?
umm… I might be the marijke from a certain magazine… don’t think there are many of us (4 in the city, to my knowledge).
question: do I know you? (if I do, I reiterate my “Hot Damn!”)
Yes. Was Anna’s roommate. If you’re who I think you are, that is.
Egads! I am indeed who you think I am. [I feel like a supervillain when I say that]
I remember now… Think I met you for a total of about 30 seconds, though, so perhaps I can be forgiven for forgetting?
Definitely! Anyway, hi there. Keep up the supervillainy and such…
There’s something so Wizard of Oz about this Inter-Net thing, isn’t there?
Well, well. If it ain’t The Delightful and Charming Ms. Marijke. How you doing lady?! It’s been awhile — perhaps we should share a pint at Connacher’s shindig this Thurs.
And just so you know, the china set *did* show up! We love it! Especially the whimsical “Hello Kitty” gravy boat.
One more post to one hundred….
Yay!!! Happy One Hundredth Post!!!
I feel so fulfilled, yet empty. Kinda like when I finished Tomb Raider II, only to realize I had blown dozens of wasted hours on it. Oddly enough, watching the movie Tomb Raider had a similar effect on me, although it was lessened slightly by the fact that it starred a scantily-clad Angelina Jolie, whom I consider to be Plato’s ideal of a Sex Bomb.
happy 100th, magee.
pints at connacher’s shindig are a go. I’m counting on it.
oh, and the gravy boat was a poor substitute for the Hello Kitty Goodbye World! doomsday device, but that got held up at the border. Damn post-9/11 security measures foiled me again… (again with my supervillainy!)
sorry to interrupt, y’all. And now, back to the supervillainy.
Oh, and didn’t Plato co-write that funk song “you dropped the bomb on me?”
And happy 100th post! You can even link to it now. Exciting New Feature™.
I’m bored so I’m going to kick it back here for a spell. Seems like no one’s in tonite.
God I wish I had a fat stack of bisondollars right now.
I wonder if I can rig up the comments so that after you post one it loads up with that comment at the top of the window?
And some little platitude… “thanks for participating!”
or “fuck you fuckass”
Bags, would you prefer this be your own page here, and I throw my jibber-jabber somewhere else? The web could use a corner for pure, unbridled magbagism.
Maybe I’ll go over here – I already went to town there last week. It’s all low-profile and shit.
No, don’t go! Please, stick around! Keep this little corner well-stocked with humourous anecdotes and witty observations, and I’ll make sure you get that fat stack of Bisondollars.
Hmmm… maybe that’s what I should have said to my very first girlfriend when she dumped me (I’ve done all the dumping since then! Hooray for me and my pre-emptive relationship-ending strikes!). After all, the phrase “Bisondollars” has more inherent dignity than the act of leaving multiple (never-returned) messages on an answering machine for two weeks straight.
if someone offered me a fat stack of Bisondollars, I’d never leave.
speaking of which (or not at all), do you know where the term “buck” originally came from? Is it from Sawbuck?
also, where does the phrase “more bang for your buck” come from? carnival midway games?
oh, and “x marks the spot”. where’s that one from?
I could go on…
Buck is apparently derived from buckskin and dates back to 1856. I’ve regained my google touch, yo! Ask me anything, I’m like a supergenius!
*leans back and cackles madly*
Oh and mags, thanks for letting me stay. I appreciate the bisondollar bribe
X marks the spot I believe has to do with signing contracts wherever is marked with an X.
the online slang dictionary. Doesn’t look superrecently updated, but there’s always the pseudodictionary.
I would have thought “X marks the spot” came earlier than that. Some possibilities that have rolled through my brain:
1. algebra (x being used to denote the unknown integer, and thus the spot where the problem is solved — a bit of a stretch, though)
2. wartime (x marking the place to land a chopper — again, I think this is too modern)
3. treasure maps
I have no proof for any of these — they’re just good dinner conversation.
pass the butter, please.
Ah, treasure maps. There’s the ticket. Those pirates think of everything.
How odd! I was just writing about pirates! (did you know Blackbeard would stick flaming tapers into his hat whenever he went into battle, ’cause he thought it made him look scarier?)
wasn’t blackbeard’s beard supposed to make him scary enough?
so magee, here are my questions:
1. what was the “golden age”, if you will, of pirates?
2. the X on maps: actual history or pop culture construct?
according to that etymology link D gave me (thanks for that, by the way), the word “pirate” appeared in 1254, while the use of “x” to mark the unkown didn’t appear until 17th century mathematics…
Of course, the X in treasure maps marks the known rather than the unknown…
my brain hurts. need alcohol.
In other news, I just got a press release at work for the movie High Crimes (a lame Morgan Freeman/Ashley Judd courtroom drama), and the headline is making me giggle like a gassed-up chimp. To wit:
The Verdict Is In: High Crimes Is Guilty…. Of Mesmerizing Audiences!
You’d think a guy named “Blackbeard” would be able to rely on the scariness of his beard (he had it at a time when most men were clean-shaven), but I guess he was compensating for something… paging Dr. Freud, you’re needed in the buccaneer ward.
To answer your questions, I think the “Golden Age” of piracy happened in the late 1600’s. The Caribbean was rich with plunder, countries were still signing “letters of marque” (sp?) which allowed pirates to legally attack ships that belonged to nations the sponser nation was at war with, and there was plenty of grog for all!
As for the X on pirate maps, your guess is as good as mine. Nothing I’ve read says anything on the subject.
Let’s return briefly to the hilarious world of movie press releases.
My all-time favourite press release *has* to be, without a doubt, the one for Fox’s direct-to-video flick “Venomous”.
Here’s the opening paragraph, warts and all:
“On January 22, horror fans will be asking ‘who let the snakes out?’ when genetically altered snakes reek havoc on a small town in Fox Home Entertainment’s fangtastic action-adventure Venomous. Debuting on VHS and DVD, Venomous stars Treat Williams as a doctor in search of clues to a deadly new virus that is swiftly killing off the townsfolk.”
Personally, I can’t decide which of the following I find funnier:
A) The moronic who-let-the-snakes-out joke that riffs off the inexplicably overused song, Who Let the Dogs Out.
B) Their spelling of “reek”. Unless the snakes smell bad enough to cause havoc, I’d guess they meant to say “wreak”.
D) The way they try to jazz up the concept of direct-to-video by selling it as “debuting on VHS and DVD”.
E) Treat Williams?!! Is he still alive?
That’s fucking gold.
disappointed, disappointed, disappointed.
Magee, where were you? We waited and waited, and hoped in vain that you’d show up. Everyone asked about you. Connacher refused to have a birthday. And I sat at the bar, cigarette burning down to the filter, crying in my beer.
… meaning I had to drink salty beer all night. Blech.
conclusion: you were missed.
He’s turned into Dr. Blowoff lately. Mags, you need to train a monkey – or build a robot buddy – to do part of your job, I think.
Finally I have the weblog’s clock set right! Apparently the server is indeed in the mid-Atlantic. (Atlantis: the Server Farm Beneath the Sea)
Robot Buddy Magee seems like a poor substitute for the real thing to me.
but a monkey…. now *that* could liven things up a bit.
I vote for a spider monkey. No tail control. Always amusing.
The Clumsy Adventures of Dr. Blowoff and his Spider Monkey Helper, Butter Pecan.
Butter Pecan… what a great name.
where were you when I was trying to name my cat??
It’s never too late to rename your cat. Hey, they never come when you call them anyway, right? I always thought that Maximum Overdrive would be a great name for a cat, esp. a fat, lazy one.
I think my cat wound up with a pretty good name (Haiku). Though we did contemplate naming her Swordfishtrombone (I’m a big tom waits fan) so that we could shorten it to Fish.
I have a fish named Turkey, so I thought it might work nicely to have a cat named Fish.
Then, if I ever got a pet turkey…..
My cat comes to me, but only if I call her “Pook”.
Haiku ain’t bad, although I woulda gone with Fish. That, or “Sixteen Shells From a Thirty-Aught-Six,” shortenable to “Six”. Alternate spelling: Sixx.
I’m watching a wet T-shirt contest at work right now.
Hey you kids! Keep it down!!
And yes, I am Dr. Blowoff these days. What can I say — working long hours = anti-social and unhappy Magee.
Maybe I should quit and live off the fat of the land….
There’s fat on the land now?
Mmmm… land fat…
A pointer to those thus inclined: cheap martinis at Labryinth on wednesdays. $3.50 / 2 oz. Not great martinis, mind you.
… is a question that could be posed, rhetorically, on a campaign poster, if Pook were ever to run for office. Followed, presumably, by a bullet list enumerating reasons why one might vote for Pook, such as “Pook will clean the litter,” or “Pook will kill the mice.”
All pets should be elected.
That’s the sort of gibberish you can expect from me at 3:30am (damn clock!).
If Pook will clean her own litter, she’s a shoo-in to get elected.
Why Pook? My roommate uses it as a term of affection, and I picked it up from her — it seemed better than calling the cat “killer” or “love” (my preferred terms of endearment).
Tenuously Related Fact: In Roman Dirge’s comic Lenore, she makes the comment: “Fish go ‘Pook, Pook'” It kills me every time.
3:00am gibberish is the best. Second only to any-time gibberish. It creates the best quotables….
Other great terms of endearment: champ, tiger, chief, boss, hotpants.
heh. tiger. i used to love that one.
also: sweetcheeks, hot stuff, dollface, baberella (or adding -erella to anyone’s name), kiddo, rockstar/superstar
hall of shame: buddy, dude (which i use much more than i’m comfortable admitting), honey, cutie
I often call Ang, “Sweetiebear”, which she seems to enjoy.
For awhile I called her “Chocolate Cake”, which I thought had a nice, blaxploitation-heroine kinda feel. But it never really caught on.
I sometimes use “Jellybean”, but fairly rarely. “Toots” and “Dollface” are pretty fun too.
I’m sorry! I meant “Cutiebear”, not “Sweetiebear”.
Of course, they’re both pretty fucking dorky. But most pet names are.
Time to hit up the MGS2.
Thanks, bags! That game rocks. I forgot how much I like sneaking.
It really is all about the Metal Gear sneaking. I like how sneaking up behind a guy and yelling “Freeze!” makes him hand over his dogtags.
You know, the one thing that’s sorta weird is just how long a period you can spend without actually playing. I timed a 45-minute chunk of cutscenes last night. I mean, c’mon! But the actual sneaking is great, and the plot is pretty inventive really – they just don’t seem to fit together very gracefully.
Yeah, the cutscenes are pretty bullshit. I re-started the game on a higher difficulty level, and all of sudden I could skip cutscenes if I wanted. And let me say, trimming the fat made the whole game so much better.
They don’t even seem well-directed. They were on MGS. But on this one, I keep on thinking, “why is it ‘shot’ from this angle? What just happened? What’s going on?”
Ah, the sneaking suit. I love the sudden switch after the first “chapter” – the guy’s called Snake, but he’s obviously not the same person, it’s two years later… nice.
Yeah, the direction is poopy-pants. And the dialogue just doesn’t have that glorious, over-the-top quality that it had in the original. (see: Sniper Wolf’s epic speech about being “born on the battlefield”, which still makes me misty-eyed and giggly all at once.)
I’d love to own a “sneaking suit”. I’d also buy all of the following:
Slipping Suit (with lubricated soles)
Sleazy Suit (assless and crotchless)
Stinking Suit (with ripe lamb lining)
Sleeping Suit (aka pajamas)
Magee makes his first post to Metafilter, only to have it deleted within three minutes! Admittedly, it was a controversial subject, but even I was surprised at how quickly it got shut down.
Check the MetaTalk follow-up here:
And now some guy who slammed me in MetaTalk has re-posted it to MetaFilter…
Dude, I just saw all the craziness. Welcome to MeFi, I guess. (I don’t check the Metafilter for a few days and look what happens!) I would post a comment in the new thread but I’m far far too tired to think up anything meaningful.
BTW you can use html in the comments here as well.
I sure do love me some I Ching. But I must admit, I’m always a little creeped out at just how on the money it always seems to be. No matter what I ask, I always get a response that fits the query perfectly. Of course, I could just be reading too much into cryptic phrases like “it furthers one to see the great man”, but somehow I don’t think so…
I thought your MeFi debut was great, Mageebags. Kind of an embarrassment to them that they saw fit to remove it. The subject of schadenfreude is a fascinating one. I do believe that spiritually evolved people get to a point where they simply can’t see humour in the anguish of others. But I don’t think these enlightened types would ever, in a million years, rely on vitriol to de-humanize someone for being brave enough to bring the subject up. You did a fair bit of apologizing, but in my view you weren’t in the least bit responsible for the knee-jerk reactions or the witch-hunt dynamic. I read the MeFi link/thread after finishing Mark Slouka’s “Why America Couldn’t Get Over The Attack” in the September issue of Harper’s. They compliment each other nicely.
Thanks for the props. I was surprised by the personal attacks as well, but I apologized mostly because I didn’t do a very good job explaining what the link/discussion was all about. Instead, I just posted a gag about the WTC and waited for reactions, which isn’t really the best way to jumpstart an intelligent conversation. So I was willing to apologize for my phrasing, but certainly not for the idea behind the post.
But then again, there sure are bunch of humourless dicks over there, so maybe I’m just being too nice….
I was out at a stand-up comedy gig on Saturday night (in support of a friend), and this whole subject came up. One of the opening acts was one of those deadpan mopey guys whose schtick was “funny-not-funny”.
Anyway, he started doing a bit about Sept. 11, and the audience just went absolutely silent. Except for me. I was giggling from the gallery, and wound up feeling like an insensitive jackass for being the only person laughing.
To be honest, the guy’s bit wasn’t even that funny (I can’t remember a single punchline). I think what made me laugh most was the fact that the audience was categorically opposed to it… And then once I started, it just felt so good to laugh that I kept going.
As an aside, I’ve decided that the patented “Catholic guilt” has a companion: “American ex-pat guilt”. As in, the guilt an ex-pat feels when the US does something dumb (enter your political goof of choice here) or something embarrassing (enter your favourite pop-culture debacle here) simply because s/he carries a passport associating him/her with the event at hand.
Well, I’m now officially a grown-up.
The line was crossed earlier this morning, when I sang along to a Muzak version of the Foo Fighters’ tune “Big Me” while I was on hold waiting to talk to my mortgage consultant about property taxes.
Next up on the Adult Checklist: constipation, lower back pain and regrouting the bathroom tiles.
Just remember to add Metamucil to your bong water, gramps.
The preceding jab was brought to you by Pocky™ For Men®.
I can’t possibly do any more work tonight. I’m as tired as a sack of ghouls. If I’m to keep up my rock-star lifestyle, I may have to actually start playing rock music.
*sings along to hell’s bells*
I’m sure some pop-culture pundits have already ruminated on this earth-shattering topic, but I’m completely and utterly entranced by the mind-boggling terribleness of the movie title “Ballistic: Ecks vs. Sever”.
Such a clumsy, awkward combination of words and punctuation! Why the colon? Has there ever been anyone born to the names Ecks or Sever? And what the fuck is up with that “Ballistic”, dangling there with no purpose other than to evoke some sense of “guns likely play a major role in this movie”?
In other news, I think the phrase “tired as a sack of ghouls” is nothing short of genius.
My alternate titles for “Ballistic: Ecks vs. Sever”
Breakfast: Eggs vs. Sausage
Ballsy: Extrovert vs. Sassy
Bullshit: Excretia vs. Sewage
Briss: Erection vs. Scissor
Ah, the colon, the classic signifier of B cinema (see here, rule #3). And indeed, we were just discussing this. My theory: Ballistic: Ecks vs. Sever is based on a comic book entitled Ecks vs. Sever. The comic owner and/or author refused to an allow an adaptation that omits Ecks vs. Sever, and rightly so – they’d be losing out on all the publicity from the movie. However, the cats who brought the bread refused to release it as simply that: Ecks vs. Sever, what is that, a Turkish chess tournament documentary? Hence, you add a word that helps indicate exactly what B genre narrative is being rehashed. In this case, I assume gunplay action – Ballistic even connotates the trendy Matrix’s “bullet time”.
Of course the end result sounds just like a mouth full of bullshit.
Here are some alternate titles, for different genres:
Ballistic: Ecks vs. Sever, a.k.a.
Blood Castle: Ecks vs. Sever, a.k.a.
Ecks vs. Sever: Sex Nurse, a.k.a
Ecks vs. Sever: Beach Party, a.k.a.
Ecks vs. Sever on the Planet That Time Forgot, a.k.a.
Ecks’ Gunfight, Sever’s Ranch
Yet more proof that I’m about as Canadian as a big bowl of pad thai — my complete and utter indifference to the ongoing phenomenon known as Hockey Night in Canada.
Seems some announcer for HNiC isn’t getting re-hired, because he wants too much of the taxpayers’ loot (HNiC is run by the CBC, which is fueled by tax dollars). And judging by the frenzied response in the Canuck newspapers, you’d think this was a crisis on par with — oh, I don’t know — the looming specter of WWIII in the Middle East.
Memo to all Canadians: IT’S JUST A FUCKING SPORT!!! AND NOT A VERY INTERESTING ONE AT THAT!!!!
Oh, and another thing — Don Cherry is a self-important old windbag who could use a good kick in the nuts from a Clysdale. I’d love to see him shuffle off this mortal coil posthaste, if only I could figure out some way to avoid the avalanche of “Great Canadian Icon” tributes that would undoubtedly flow for months after his passing like a river of treacley diarrhea.
If every hockey night in canada viewer sent in 10 cents, they’d have enough to give the dude his raise.
TV is big money. You want the big guys, you gotta pay.
Obviously you get what you pay for. But the CBC could stick a clockwork monkey beside Cherry and they wouldn’t lose a single viewer. Aside from his mom, I seriously doubt there are many people who watch HNiC for a Ron MacLean fix.
And yes, TV is big money. Which is precisely why the government should stop throwing (my) money at it. Personally, I’d rather have health care, cops and garbage collection than overpaid talking heads.
Bags, the CBC clearly makes more money than they spend on HNC. So, it’s financing other, non-money-making things on CBC, like This Hour Has 22 Shitbags and that other old people comedy show. You’re making money off it, not losing.
If they fire Ron MacLean, your garbage will be picked up three times a day.
On another note, you really need to sign up for game neverending. You’d love it.
Yeah, the CBC does probably make more loot on HNC than on anything else. I guess what I should have said is that the CBC should just do news AND sports. Their hockey coverage is sensational and nobody does a better job on the Olympics. But pissing away money on shit like the Royal Canadian Air Fuckers just gets my blood boiling.
Personally, I think the government should get out of the broadcasting biz entirely. Instead of financing their own network, they should set up tax laws that make it easier for private Canadian broadcasters to develop and broadcast their own programming. Hey, if Moses can do it with CityTV…
Alright, enough of this CBC/hockey bullshit — back to Ecks vs. Sever! This time, potential sequel titles!
Ballistic II: Ecks & Sever
Ballistic II: Ecks or Sever
Ballistic II: Ecks, this is Sever; Sever, this is Ecks
Ballistic II: Ecks/Sever
Ballistic II: Ecks? Sever? Where are you guys?!
Ballistic II: When Ecks Met Sever
Ballistic II: Ecks vs. Sever – The Steel Cage Match
Now, porno titles!
Balls ‘n’ dick: Ecocks vs. Seven Cunts
Brutalistic: Ecks violates Sever
Bald-dicks: Ecks vs. Shaving
Ballistic: A sweaty Latino guy gets head from some Asian chick, then he gives her head, followed by fucking in an assortment of positions and ending with mighty cumshot to the eye.
I’d like you all to take a moment this morning and give thanks, for twenty-nine years ago today, a very special human was brought into this world: Mario Lopez, the thespian best known for his towering performance as Albert Clifford “A.C.” Slater, the tough-talking but soft-hearted jock whose constant battles with Zak Morris for the love of Kelly Kapowski provided the key dramaturgical triad at the centre of “Saved By the Bell”, the breakaway high school hit that provided an entire generation with thousands of hours of laughs (oh, that wacky Screech!), quotable quotes (“*What* is going *on* here!?!!?” — Principal Belding, usually after discovering one of Zak’s zany schemes) and sometimes even tears (for who among us can forget the pain and suffering on A.C.’s face as he struggled to help Jessie work her way through her growing addiction to caffeine pills?).
Unfortunately, the legacy so carefully laid by Mario Lopez has since been besmirched, not only by a plague of sub-par imitators — the loathsome “California Dreams” and the excruciating “Student Bodies” being only the worst offenders — but also by the continuing stream of money-grubbing SBTB spin-offs. Sure, projects like “Saved by the Bell: Hawaiian Style” and “Saved by the Bell: The College Years” proved that the gang could move out of Bayside High and still be relevant, but the crass commercialism of the reprehensible “Saved by the Bell: The New Class” betrayed the promise of the original series’ inherent “saved by the bell-ness”. And don’t even get me started on “Saved by the Bell: Wedding in Las Vegas”. ‘Cause that just fucking sucked.
So raise your glass and join me in a toast to Mario Lopez. This giant of the stage and screen may have moved on to other projects (the feature film “Outta Time” [aka: “The Courier”], the TV movie “Breaking the Surface: The Greg Louganis Story” and the game show “Match Game” [where he served as a panelist]) but in our hearts, he’ll always be A.C., the gentle giant of Bayside. We shall never see another like him.
It’s time for yet another Moronic Press Release Quote!
“I’ve never taken a caffeine-fueled, demolition derby-style road trip across the U.S. in an 18-wheeler to win the hearts of eight beautiful women, but if I had, I bet it would be just like ‘The King of Route 66’.” – Mike Fischer, vice president, SEGA of America, Inc.
Breaking News — Mario “A.C. Slater” Lopez has found work shilling He-Man figures at Toyz R Us!!!
I can’t decide whether my favourite quote from the article is…
“Well, if that ain’t a surreal sight, I don’t know what is. Random radio DJ, Skeletor, and Mario Lopez. I’m pretty sure that’ll flash in my mind right before I die. They had a voice-over for whenever Skeletor spoke, so he actually sounded a lot like the real deal. I can’t remember a word he said because this whole scene was so amazing and otherworldly that it seemed to fly by in three seconds flat. I felt like Ralphie on Santa’s lap during A Christmas Story. Skeletor would play a good Scott Farcus.”
“Things took a turn for the worse when Eternia’s greatest crimelord focused his attention on cute lovable Slater. Mario tried to play it off like this was all in good fun, but you just never know with Skeletor. He’s torn between being a playful thespian and a murderous skull-faced horndemon. Usually the latter wins the war.”
Sorry, that Mario Lopez/He-Man link is here
Hey, this might be a bit late to contend for the porn storm, but I was thinking that if I was a male porn star, my name would be Ben Dover.
The Ongoing Saga of Home Ownership, Volume #127
Well, my new crib has been fairly trouble-free…. until now. There was a big-ass storm on the weekend, and by the end of the night, I had a (quite small) pool of water collecting around my basement drain.
“Hmmm,” says I. “This doesn’t look right.”
So I calls me a plumber. He shows up with a long metal snake that has a camera on the end. He sends the snake down my drain. We watch a little monitor. All very high-tech and snazzy. The snake makes its way down the drain, where it stumbles across tree roots that have busted through the 80-year-old clay pipes. Many roots. Copious roots. Enough roots to basically destroy the drain pipes leading from my house. Fuck.
My pipes are now once again in working order. I had a team of five Russian dudes digging up my basement and yard all weekend, but now everyting’s irie.
In a strange bit of synchronicity, my internal plumbing went down at the exact same time my housing’s plumbing went offline on Saturday. Which meant I had to walk to the nearby Swiss Chalet to vent my liquid-filled bowels.
hey mageebags, nice to see you back in your ‘hood.
sorry to hear ’bout the pipes — both internal and external.
that’s, uh, tough shit, man…
I just saw an online ad for a “Universal Cable Descrambler” that boasted many options, including the fact that the box was “100% BULLET PROOF!!!”.
So if Elvis is in the market for some unscrambled porn, I guess he knows where to go.
Dude! You’re back!
Yeah, it’s been a crazy couple o’ months. The recent firing of my assistant editor has significantly upped my workload, a situation that has made me roar in anger more than once.
I’m also still trying to get into teacher’s college. Had an interview on Saturday with York, which ended with my interviewer telling me, “I’ve been doing this for twelve years, and I’ve only said this once before: you are someone I would want teaching my kids.”
So I think it’s safe to say York’s a lock. But I’d rather go to U of T…
Tonight an anxious world will sit down, take a deep breath and learn the answer to the most pressing question to face the human race in over a century: Sarah or Zora?
Yes, Joe Millionaire will make his decision tonight, but as any loyal viewer knows, a twist has been added to the mix. But what that twist is, nobody knows. So — with the help of my pal Conrad — I’d like to present:
LAS VEGAS JIMMY’S JOE MILLIONAIRE TWIST ENDING ODDS
Joe Millionaire really Josephine Millionaire… 4-1
An enraged MoJo returns, savagely beats Joe Millionaire to a pulp and then sucks the marrow from his bones… 8-1
Joe Millionaire confesses he’s really a construction worker who makes $19,000 a year. Sarah confesses all 20 female contestants are really high-end escorts who make $300 an hour… 10-1
Joe Millionaire confesses he’s really a construction worker who makes $19,000 a year. Fox producers confess entire budget for airfare back to United States blown on trip to Moulin Rouge with MoJo… 15-1
Joe Millionaire’s final decision made by Magic 8-Ball… 18-1
Immediately after Joe Millionaire tells the truth, Johnny Billionaire marches into chateau smoking a cigar and says “I’ll take it from here…” 20-1
“Joe Millionaire, you are the American Idol!!!”… 50-1
French police haul off rosy-cheeked butler after the nineteen eliminated contestants’ dead bodies are found in chateau basement… 100-1
Fox Producer hands show’s only giant cardboard million dollar cheque to show’s rarely-seen hostess for a job well done. 200-1
Fox executives realize Sarah’s audible blowjob in the woods was the lowest moment in television history and, for penace, decide to dedicate their lives to bathing children in the third world (alongside “Mercenary” Melissa)… 10000-1
Audible blowjob? Why wasn’t I notified? Come to think of it, they’re going to need a whole new set of parental advisory icons at the start of shows, indicating the presence of audible and/or visible blowjobs. That way, puerile viewers like myself will know what to watch.
what is theis all abooooot?
I’m poking around Book City the other day, and I come across The Vice Guide to Sex and Drugs and Rock & Roll, a “best-of” compilation of articles from Vice magazine. Looks entertaining, thinks I, so I grab a copy and start flipping.
And there, on page 282, I discovered an article about how long it would take to achieve a pure-corn shit if you ate nothing but corn. And it was written by me.
First reaction: “Wow! I’ve been published in book format! Superfly!!!”
Second reaction: “Ummm… don’t writers usually get something if they get re-printed? Some cash? A copy or two of the book? A heads-up? Anything?”
Ah well — at least I’ve got something I can pull off the bookshelves to show my grandkids.
The Good News: I got accepted to U of T’s teachers college last night. Hooray!
The Bad News: I think I’m going to get fired from my job. My boss says he has no problem with my work (in fact, he basically admitted he doesn’t read either of the magazines I edit), but he just doesn’t like me. And he thinks that I don’t work enough unpaid overtime.
The Good News, Part II: If I do get booted, I’ll probably score 2-3 months severance, which will basically see me through ’till September, when I was planning on quitting anyway (in order to go to teachers college).
congrats on teacher’s college, bags! when i have children, wherever you’re teaching, that’s where i want them to go….
dude, how clear did your boss make it that it’s just because he doesn’t like you? you might be able to get way more than 2-3 months — i believe that’s highly illegal…
and if it’s not, well, it oughta be illegal to not like you….
Good News 2, Bad News 1. Congrats, man.
As much as I’d love to sue (assuming I do get the boot), he’s got a team of lawyers on retainer, and I’ve got a friend two years out of law school.
So Sankey and that little y-with-an-umlaut punk think they know how to post? Well, maybe it’s time I kicked this contest up a notch, Emeril-style! Meet the new posting boss – same as the old posting boss! (But only in terms of his gross abuse of power and nasty habit of flicking cigar butts at weeping underlings. Other than that, this boss is significantly different from the previous boss. For one thing, his posts are poorly written and relatively uninteresting. Also, this boss enjoys fly fishing and making soup for poor people, as opposed to bosses Sankey & y-with-an-umlaut, who prefer to spend their free time popping out the eyes of newborns in order to skullfuck them repeatedly.)
So bring it on, bitches!!!
By the way, that above post was penned by me – mageebags. For some reason, my signature was missing.
I apologize for the confusion. We now return to your regularly scheduled nonsense.
Speaking of “bringing it on”, I recently saw a preview for the upcoming direct-to-video sequel Bring It On Again.
Somehow I doubt this one will be as popular as the first outing, considering the preview had the production values of a small town car dealership commercial. However, the credit listings at IMDB says that there’s a character known simply as “Bully Fencer”. So that’s a plus.
The #1 Google hit for “Bully Fencer” is a painfully unfunny essay on the finer points of comedy.
The offending phrase pops up in this fruitcake-dense sentence:
“Here, however, as elsewhere, his famous wit is like a bully-fencer, not ashamed to lay traps for its exhibition, transparently petulant for the train between certain ordinary words and the powder-magazine of the improprieties to be fired.”
Personally, I think comedy can be better summed up with this tautology: “Kicked testicles = laughs”
It seems to me that “Bring It On Again” is a somewhat lazy title for a sequel. It lacks the whisical wordplay of a “Teen Wolf Too” or the boiling bombast of a “Die Hard With A Vengence”.
Why can’t more movies take their sequel-naming cues from the “Air Bud” series? Just look at the genius of “Air Bud: Golden Receiver” (football), “Air Bud: World Pup” (soccer), “Air Bud: Seventh Inning Fetch” (baseball) and the soon-to-be-released “Air Bud Spikes Back” (volleyball) — all shining examples of what can be done with a little imagination and skillful punning.
If I were the producer in charge of the Bring It On sequel, I would have used any or all of the following:
Bring It On 2: Can’t Stop the Bringing!
Mo’ Bringing, Mo’ Problems
Bring It On… 2 the X-treme!
Could You Bring It On Up Here For Me? My Back’s a Little Sore
Bring It Off
Bring It On 2 – Less Kirsten Dunst, More Upskirt Cheerleader Shots
I Said BRING IT ON, YOU FUCKING ANOREXIC SLUT!!!
Bring the Third Tier No-Name Replacements On
Bring It On 2: Electric Boogaloo
Why is there never any blueberry-flavoured candies? The Jolly Ranchers and Life Savers of the world are filled with cherry, lemon, green apple, strawberry, raspberry — fuck, even watermelon gets in on the action every now and again. So why not blueberries, the tastiest fruit in Fruitville?
Welcome to Fruitville, the Citrusyist Place on Earth!
“Citrusyist”? Is that even a word? There’s only one way to find out! Please welcome the top dog of Fruitville, Mayor McSeedlessgrapes!
Mageebags: “Thanks for joining us today, Mayor.”
Mayor McSeedlessgrapes: “My pleasure.”
Mageebags: “So what’s up with that slogan? I mean, c’mon, ‘citrusyist’? Why not something more – I don’t know – within the boundries of the English language?”
Mayor McSeedlessgrapes: “Well, our public relations department wanted something that connoted ‘fruit-ness’, while still maintaining a certain level of zest-osity. We test marketed a number of phrases, including ‘Fruitville: Taste the Stickyness!’ and ‘Come For the Fruitville Binder Twine Festival, Stay For the Stewed Peaches!’, but nothing connected with the 18-45 year olds like ‘citrusyist’. Personally, I wanted to go with ‘We Put the ‘Fun’ In Fruitville!’. But then someone pointed out that the word fun doesn’t actually appear in the word Fruitville. Unless you remove the ‘r’ and the first ‘i’. And add an ‘n’.”
Mageebags: Interesting. And now, for a commentary on today’s story, we go to Koko the Dolphin.
Koko the Dolphin: “Weeeeekkkkkkkeeeekyyyyyeeeekkk!!!!”
You know, I could read Sankey’s blog, or I could just go to blogdex. After all, that seems to be where he lifted his last three “posts” from!
C’mon Sanks – if you’re going to win, at least do it with honour!!!
Then again, considering my posts consist of little more than my pointless ramblings, perhaps I should remove the log from my own eye before I start jabbing at the mote in Sankey’s…
not sure if you accept comments on this blog – it might make counting a bit of a pain at the end of the month…
but have you tried blueberry hubba-bubba? it’s still available in most convenience stores, and it’s fucking awesrageous.
how ’bout boo-berry cereal? that was pretty special, wasn’t it?
Hmmm… true. Blueberry Hubba-Bubba is a tasty treat. But I think it’s the exception that proves the rule!
And cereal does not count as a “candy”. Unless you’re very, very poor. But I agree, Boo-Berry was certainly “special”. And not in the short bus way.
For those interested in the long and storied history of General Mills’ monster-themed breakfast cereal, there’s a sweet little round-up right here, complete with a ridiculously homoerotic shot of Count Chocula and Frankenberry dancing together on the cover of a promotional EP.
Oh for fucking Christ’s gay sake – a) you know I love Kubrick, right? b) you found epantsipation on blogdex, did you? Suck it, you sporadically-updating, Seinfeld-esque personal-anecdote-relating candy-sucker.
Aw, how can I stay mad at you? Frankenberry et al remind me of those deceased mascots, siblings of Tony the Tiger: Katy the Kangaroo, Elmo the Elephant and Newt the Gnu.
Count Chocula reminds me that Books wanted to release a retail brand knockoff of it: “Chocolate Vampire.” The slogan was “Kids will eat it.”
Tee-hee! I successfully got Sankey’s goat!
Look! Over here! It’s your goat! And I’m punching it in the testicles repeatedly! What are you gonna do about that, Sir Suck It?!
So I’m “Seinfeld-esque”, am I?
Well, time to start living up to my rep!
Did you ever notice how… um… coffee cups… um… get stained? What’s the deal with that? Does the coffee contain some kind of tannins that leave brown marks on ceramics or something? And how about that airplane food — it’s terrible!
It’s gold, Maggo, gold!!!
Ah. I see the goat-getting was reciprocal. Carry on then.
*cue Seinfeld bass line*
Places Where I’ve Never Had Sex, But Would Quite Like To:
– closet during a busy party
– Paris (but not the Eiffel Tower)
– my kitchen
– hot tub (chalk this one up to watching “Hot Dog… The Movie” one too many times)
– the set of a porno film, but not while the cameras are running
– the back seat of my cramped 2-door VW Golf
– a near-empty movie theatre
– outside, during a torrential rainstorm (thunder optional)
Places Where I’ve Never Had Sex, But Have No Desire To:
– airplane toilet
– in a canoe
– on top of Mount Rushmore
– any “extreme” location (ie. while bungee-jumping, skydiving, etc, etc)
– public transit
On a similar note….
Eight Famous People I’d Like To “Know” (In The Bibical Sense):
– Uma Thurman
– Anna Paquin
– Salma Hayek
– Liz Phair
– Penelope Cruz
– MuchMusic VJ Erica Ehm (circa 1988)
– Angelina Jolie
– Uma Thurman, again
Sure, this is a pretty nice looking sandwich. But it can’t compare to the Mega-Wich I made last week.
It all started with eighteen slices of bread (three dark rye, one light rye, a whopping six pumpernickle, two whole wheat, four Wonder and two unleavened wafers I nicked from the nearby Catholic Church). Then, I added a wide assortment of deli meats, including – but not limited to – Hungarian salami, proscutto, mortadella, German salami, macaroni loaf, spicy Italian salami, headcheese, casalingo salami, roast beef, Black Forest ham, Bavarian salami, Kam ™ and a smattering of sliced kelibasa. This mountain of bread ‘n’ meat was then lightly spiced with Dijon mustard, honey mustard, Russian mustard, standard-issue American mustard from a nearby ballpark, crunchy mustard seeds and the all-important Dijonaise. The whole thing was then wrapped in bacon and deep-fried in creamy horseradish-flavoured lard. Then I put a pickle beside it.
Now that’s a fucking sandwich. Bitch.
[By the way, the above “bitch” was directed at D, whose sandwich-making abilities I heartily deride. Mostly because I’m jealous of the sandwiches he used to bring to high school. Big, hearty buns jammed to the gills with crisp lettuce, zesty cheese and more meat then you could shake a stick at. Meanwhile, I – having been stuck making my own lunches since grade 8 – spent most of my lunch hours chowing down on an untoasted English muffin with peanut butter. Seriously. I’m really not kidding. Untoasted English muffins.]
I loves me the slang. My favourite thing to do is make up new words that only I understand, but I’ve come to realize that one-man slang isn’t really all that worthwhile on a day-to-day basis.
So for the past few months I’ve mostly been digging on the Rasta/Jamaican slang, but now I’m all about the Hawaiian pigdin. I’m just waiting for an excuse to bust out my new favourite phrase: “No aak, you junk chang lolo! Shoots?”
There’s the freakin’ link of the day. That’s a fantastic page.
From the same link:
SANKEY: n. religious song of a paticularly lugubrious tone, sung in the long or common meter. From Ira David Sankey, evangelist and hymnalist
hey Sanks, you’re a religious experience, man…
Well, looks like my crushing workload this week successfully fucked any chance I may have had at beating D and y-with-an-umlaut at this little contest.
But it’s not like I even wanted to win. So there.
However, this has renewed my interest in posting. And since I won’t have much to do for the next few weeks, maybe I’ll start posting regularly. After all, regularity is good for the bowels, so it’s probably good for the brain as well.
I heard “The Heart of Rock and Roll” by Huey Lewis and the News this morning, and I realized that I never really understood what the fuck Huey was saying in the chorus. All I could make out was, ” They say the heart of rock and roll is [garbled], and from what I’ve seen I believe ’em.”
One google search later, I discover that the missing phrase is “still beating.” Which, when you think about it, makes sense. After all, it is a heart he’s talking about. And hearts are known to beat. Also, it rhymes with “believe ’em”, which is nice.
None of which changes the fact that (aside from Huey’s brief cameo as the “you’re just too darn loud” guy in Back to the Future), HL&TN basically suck.
Transparent concrete update.
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