Happy Birthday to Omer

My main man in Amsterdam, my best roomie for life, and the Wu to my Swearengen.

That's rights---it's deep, yo.

COCKSUCKA!

Hope your day and this next revolution are filled with awesomeness. Don't let the cocksuckers get you down.

Who's the king, baby?

I Met A Cross Eyed Dog The Other Day

This is Jane Doe. As the owner, my new neighbor, relates, the real irony is that she's a pointer. I didn't even realize she was cross eyed at first. When she stuck her face into mine, I started laughing and thought What a goofy dog. Subliminal goofiness. A deadly weapon. In other news, ridiculous stuff likes this keeps popping up on websites:

Photos courtesy of Fame/Flynet. Credit to celebitchy.com for info.

Gah. How does he do it? Ginger, bearded, and adorable. That is a photo of a bedheaded man eating breakfast. How does he make scruffy look so good? It's unnatural. He must have some terrible secret. Besides the compulsive smoking, rampant shagging, partying down, thinly veiled psychotic killer lurking behind his sharky smile. Because none of that is really secret. There must be more! Does he drink the blood of kittens? Push disabled kids down the wheelchair ramp? Willingly listen to Justin Beiber? There's something there.

It's not just the photos. It's the quotes like this that go with it:

"I liked Star Wars I suppose, which is pretty sci-fi. But I’ve never been someone who collected comic books or any of that sort of thing. Other than Star Wars, which I did collect lots of things. [Like the] Ewok village that I still have… and the Millennium Falcon.”

That motherfucker still has the Falcon AND the village? How can you not like someone like that--that's like half my friends (who's stuff I covet, presssssshussss).

Here he is doing some non-spoiler talk for Prometheus, for which I am so stoked. Not much going on here, but I like listening to his voice when he's not doing an accent. It's got this nasal quality, yet it's not annoying. Odd.

For non-Fassbender fans, here's a way to have fun watching this, or any, Fassbender interview.  

FASSBENDER INTERVIEW DRINKING GAME 

So easy. Play along at home! 

There are two levels. And only two rules to remember!

Level One: Inebriation Imminent 

#1. Drink every time Fassbender says "sort of." Go ahead. Try it. 

Level Two: Alcoholocaust 

#1. Same as above. 

#2. Drink every time Fassbender says "you know." Make sure to have liver transplant team on standby.

 There is a special #3 for people who want to die. Soon. Can't mention it here for legal reasons.

 

Late Night Inanity

This movie should have a surgeon general advisory, because I swear this thing is making me stupider by the second. It's called Wolf Moon, I think. I'm not even sure anymore. My I.Q. is dropping so rapidly I can't be positive about anything. I crawled away from the t.v. and towards the computer approximately 3 hours ago, but the freaking movie Is Still On.

It's not the worst movie I've ever seen/listened to, but it's definitely made me appreciate the value of what an editor brings to a film. There are three or four different threads of action going on here, but the cuts are so jumpy and badly done that it really just seems like there's 2.5 movies being played on the channel simultaneously.

It also took me the first 4 days of the movie to realize it was a Twilight rip off. Whiny girl voice over. Angsty hairy teen (ha ha teen my sweet ass) boy toy with sensitive skin that cannot be touched by shirts. Literal stalking of female love interest. Overprotective single dad (Hank from Twin Peaks!). Lead drives car that is cool in some universe, but doesn't quite really make the cut. Maria Conchita Chiquita Alonso----okay, so she's the one new element.

Ultimately, how sad is your movie if it's an R-rated horror flick that tosses in some Twi-hard references to try and capture that elusive tweeny-bopper gore fanatic demographic?

Sample dialogue: "Fuck you back! Harder!"

Other signs your movie may be in trouble: two or more musical montages in a row, bad looping on all your villain's dialogue, monster effects that resemble a hairy Hulk.

On the other hand, late night movie viewing can lead to things like Heroes, an interesting little movie starring Henry Winkler and Sally Fields. I've always had a soft spot for the Fonz, but in this movie Henry Winkler is just beautiful. And super bonus points for Harrison Ford doing carpentry!

Adorable.

My bro was in town awhile back. It was a brief visit, but we wandered around just a little. When you hang with a class act like me, you can count on seeing stars.

Justice!

 And the usual tomfoolery and misbehaving.

You'd think after all these years I could make some money at this.

 Back in June of 2007, I traveled to New Orleans to see The Police in concert. Hearing them was one of the best experiences of my life. I never imagined that I'd have the chance to see them play together---it was an impossible dream come true. It's hard to believe it was five years ago. 

Jackson Square after the rain, slipping and swirling like watercolors.

Celebratory champagne, courtesy JDog.

Cathedral from the river side.

Murder at the Bourbon Orleans! Fun with crime scene photos and JDog. She's such a good sport when I get a weird bee in my bonnet.

Good News/Bad News

Good news: my dad doesn't have cancer.

Bad news: they are re-making Highlander.

All in all, news tilted slightly in favor of good today.

Is It Apathy or a Breakthrough?

It's easy to get overwhelmed. It's easy to feel picked on.

It's easy to fall into the trap of feeling under-appreciated, and see the proof everywhere. That can become a self perpetuating cycle wherein the world constantly proves to you, the eager to believe pupil, that it Just Doesn't Give A Shit.

Because as we all know, if you are looking for disappointment, you will always be successful in your hunt.

But what about when you array the evidence before you, and the pattern becomes overwhelmingly negative? What if the message is writ both large and small, from the casual exchanges to the heart-rending confessionals--You Suck.

You're a bitch, an asshole, a jerk. The theme manifests not just in what people say, but in how they act. Wonder why nobody is there for you? Why is it so easy for people to ignore your needs? Why do you try so hard for others but your efforts don't seem to be reciprocated? Why do you feel apart, to the side, back (and to the left)?

Well, maybe it's because people are ditching you because they don't feel compelled to waste their time on an asshole. Maybe it's common knowledge among any group of people that hangs around you. The cost benefit analyses are in, and you just aren't worth the time.

Pile high the list of examples of how the world done you wrong, how the people you love don't love you back, how you've been used, been discarded, ignored, blah blah suffercakes. Perhaps it's not a failure on your part to communicate how truly sensitive you are--maybe everybody knows and they just don't care.

Maybe when you open yourself up to brutal honesty, in your never ending quest for self improvement and enlightenment, the reason people only seem to approach you with negative reports is because you're a piece of shit.

What if there isn't much nice to say?

And if all of this is true, what does it mean if you start to entertain this premise and find that you might not even care? Is this the moment of True Asshole Realization, wherein an Asshole can finally achieve his/her true potential. Gone is the pointless quest for self improvement. Gone the clinging to moral and ethical standards that no one cared about coming from an Asshole. Gone the annoying whining and morose moping over "miscommunications" and "misunderstanding."

Perhaps if an Asshole accepts their inherent jerktitude, that cannot be overcome even by a lifetime of effort, they can finally relax.

No more struggling with the people you know who misunderstand you--they are right: you're just an asshole. They've been telling you for years that you are mean, nasty, hostile, whatever---that you Don't Fit In and That What You Did Was Wrong and that Whatever You Are Going To Do Will Be Wrong Too. And now you know why---you're just a Natural Dick.

The transition may be a little rough on some people, especially if they were used to being able to impose on your artificial niceness. But since most of them have been treating like an Asshole in one way or another for years anyways, it's smooth sailing from here on out.

You know, I started this post pretty seriously. But look at how I finished. Gee, I wonder how that could have happened. . .

What I don't know, continue to not know, is whether a lack of response to formerly upsetting incidents is a good sign or a bad sign. The Universe and its denizens sends out the evening message of: We Still Hate Your Ass, Sucko. You shrug, even start to maybe get upset. You are gonna send the Universe an email!

Then. . . you shrug again. Maybe you sigh. You start thinking about some crap you have to do tomorrow, how awful the movie on tv is, etc.

It's that moment that they write koans about. You are the turtle on the water planet, head breaching the surface, and yet again you have not risen within the confines of the floating ox-bow. The thoughts slip away. You hold on to nothing. You're like Jon Snow with knowledge.

And the person/situation that hurt your feelings? Spiraling back down, maybe somewhere beneath the turtle on that planet of water. Not your favorite person at the moment. Probably get mad if you think about it much more. But for now--you can almost feel your mind take the shape of a weary old woman at a kitchen counter, hand to the small of her back, shoulders stooped--not now, not now.

So is that growing up? Growing past? Moving on? Getting better?

Or is it just getting wearier?

Mobius Strip of Shite

Sometimes life flings so much poo at your head that there's nothing to do but post goofy links about interwebz stuff in response.

Loved ones with bizarre medical conditions and undergoing cancer testing? Your relatives' crazy bitch ass girlfriends calling you and hanging up in the middle of the night? Your bank completely fucking up the incident wherein you actually managed to catch the people BEFORE they stole the $600 out of your account, and now farging up your account weeks later and forcing you to do extra paperwork? Your insurance company not filing your cancellation properly? Your credit card company trying to charge you twice for things and sending you messages explaining that you don't get basic math? Dogs next store Won't. Stop. Yipping. All. Damn. Day?

Fear not. Some cool stuff is happening, too.


I found this. It's pretty and shiny.

While the Huayra profile is a lot more aggressive and. . . bullish than I tend to like, there's still something quite sexy about it. It's a bit too Lamborghini for me. But still. The specs are interesting. And gull wing doors. Impracticality packaged in a most enticing form.

And unlike a lot of the sporty mcsportsters, the interior is awesome. Or at least I think so. One review called it garish. I love love love aluminum accents.

As long as we're talking about ridiculously expensive things, let's talk real estate. You know that point in the "If I won the lotto" conversation where you can't really think of superfluous stuff to waste money on? Here's something on which I could toss some extra ducketts for very silly reasons.

http://sillymillions.com/luxury-new-york-penthouse-apartment-connected-with-slides-goes-for-sale-at-4-million

 I'd like to think I would use that slide every day.

Some really cool behind the scenes pix from Empire and Jedi at Unreality magazine. I didn't post the best one, but it involved a princess and a Wookie.

Name checking Tesla has long since passed the point of any real geek/nerd credibility. But that doesn't mean some folks aren't still producing some lovely illustrations as to why Tesla is such a rock star. Check out this take on the life of Nikola Tesla. It's amazeballs. If you're pro-Edison, you might want to wear a helmet.

And finally, from a site I wandered onto and ended up looking at every photo: 

Open Immediately For Maximum Happiness

See baby engage in bar wreckage. Engage Happy!Zen button now:

Baby Goose Kicks Ass and Birds Sing

Since the title is literal, it either means I've just watched Drive and dawn is beginning to break, or I've just watched Drive and the aural hallucinations have begun.

Let's assume the former, and say that I'll wander back later on with a more proper review.

Until then, mes amis,