• GRAAARRG. That is all.
• I'm listening to Doug Stanhope: 12 - Tits & Buttfucking are Il

October 04, 2008

Blah

Ugh, I'm dying.

October 01, 2008

Jesus.

$1.4 MILLION IN GODDAMN INVOICES TODAY.

Well, at least they weren't lying when they said I'd be busy with this new job. I just can't get over that number.

I wish I got commission for this shit.

Don't Mind Me, I'm Just Lost

If I had a fucking dollar for every time someone looked at me over the past few days and asked what was wrong, I'd be able to buy my own small island off of the coast and declare it to be my own country.

I can't concentrate. Every new task is only going through the motions. Sleep is just waiting for the brain to pause. I keep getting the feeling that I'm going to throw up. I don't smile much. Not that I did in the first place, but I've got even less of a reason to do so now.

I'm stuck in my mind. It's what I wanted, it's what I needed, but it doesn't make it any less difficult. Things that I had tucked away for a rainy day come flooding back. Feelings crash into each other like kamikaze fighters, and the explosions are less than stellar.

I've been doing a lot of walking. It helps take my mind off of stuff, if only for a bit. I walk these streets and soak in everything. Everything soaks me in. It's this harrowing presence that has sort of a lean beauty. When you throw yourself out there, you have to deal with Everything. Everything has to deal with you.

I haven't been very social. People try to talk to me, and I just acknowledge them and crawl back inside myself. Part of me hates them. Part of me needs them. Part of me just wants to be left alone, and then part of me wants to scream everything out and break everything I can get my hands on. Divided into quarters that are completely at odds with each other, so it's all I can do to keep it in. Don't shatter the windows. Punch out walls. Bash everything into a small ashen brick and throw it right at their faces. Because that wouldn't be nice.

I stepped outside yesterday and breathed the scorching twilight air. The acrid stench of bum piss, car exhaust, and human confusion sucked me right back in again.

I walked.

September 30, 2008

*pants heavily*

Okay, so supposedly the latest controversy surrounding Kim Kardashian (star of "Keeping with the Kardashians" and "Dancing With The Stars", both of which are apparently riveting dramas marketed to people who are still amazed by fire) is that a lot of people don't think that she can fit all of that junk into the size-2 trunk that she so proudly rocks. I don't know how I came to know this, but rest assured that I'm going to shoot myself if I'm exposed to any more of it.

Potential suicide aside, I absolutely don't mean to qualify her as anything more than something that I would happily pound the dickens out of and maybe buy her a sandwich from 7-11 afterward, but watching her hop up and down in this video to try and cram all that Armenian ass into dem jeans made me need a cold shower and a cigarette.

I worry that the next time I shoot a load, it's going to blow a hole through my hand and into the shower tile like a gunshot from a John Woo movie shootout. Maybe I can slide down a banister while spunking and turn it into a cinematic experience.

Eric Cantor Is A Total Pussy.

You whining pussbag. You went on national television yesterday after the bailout bill failed so that you could hold up a copy of Nancy Pelosi's largely innocuous speech and cry about how this is why the bill failed, blah blah blah. Sorry, I forgot that the party that brought us torture of detainees, lording over women about their own bodies, and telling gay and lesbian couples that their fagmarriage wasn't allowed were such delicate flowers. As soon as a woman in power makes a slightly partisan speech, you start pissing your pants and running the other way? You sellouts. You whores.

You're a bunch of cunts. You're all bluster and rage until the tide turns against you, and then you immediately run away and cower like children. Liberals are traitorous, spineless sissies and you guys are the paragon of virtue and real manly tough stuff, right? Isn't that the same tired-ass line you've been selling to the American public since after 9/11? You're all worthless cowards. Fuck all of you. I hope that they tie this entire economic meltdown around your greedy pig necks like a goddamn albatross and let you sink amidst the wreckage of Wall Street.

September 29, 2008

No Ceiling

Leave it to the likes of Eddie Vedder to pull me through a bout of depression. The soundtrack for "Into The Wild" should be required listening for anyone undergoing any sort of adversity - terminal cancer, relationship trouble, simple ennui....fuck it. It's glorious.

Just taking some time away. I know it's been a while since I've visited this thing, but I'm breathing and trying to work things out for myself before I step in any direction. It hurts, but I feel like it's something I need.

July 13, 2008

Test

Testing to see if MT issues due to server relocation have been resolved (somewhat)

July 09, 2008

I’ve gotten really deep into film discussion and studies over the past few years, and to be entirely fair it wasn’t too bad of a time to become interested in the medium. There have been a handful of greats, a lot of not-so-greats, and a lot of decent and entertaining fare in the form of genre works, specifically when it comes to that of comic-book adaptations.

I’m going to preface this by stating that I’ve never been a rabid superhero comic fan – I think the only “mainstream” superhero comics that I’ve really cared about were the various iterations of the X-Men, and that’s pretty much it. The rest of my comic fanboyism circles around the other stuff, such as crime comics and more offbeat projects like Preacher, Transmetropolitan, Nextwave, Y The Last Man, et al.

However, it seems that the recent onslaught of comic book movies over the past few years has allowed a particularly virulent brand of fanboyism to rear its pimpled, bespectacled head, with a subsection of angry comic geeks completely flipping their shit over various projects, endlessly whining about raped childhoods and stupid women characters and blahblahblah. There’s an inherent hatred to a lot of these circles, which is something that one would almost expect from a constantly marginalized and often-mocked subculture that’s suddenly become somewhat mainstream – almost like they’ve been given a superpower, but instead of using it for good they use it to warp into the neighbor’s house and shit all over their furniture during a particularly bumpin’ house-party.

So it comes as no surprise that thanks to the growing popularity of comic book movies, the anonymity of the internet, and latent antisocial tendencies, this group has become more and more vocal over time.

Case in point: The Dark Knight.

I’ve been following a debacle where a few websites posted favorable reviews of the film, touting it as an impressive cinematic achievement but not without a couple of flaws. Their takes on the film were perfectly rational, unoffensive, and not without merit.

Unfortunately, a certain circle of comic fans – for anonymity’s sake we’ll refer to their home turf as Ruperhero Rype, apparently Scooby-Doo is the webmaster – have taken it upon themselves to declare their own personal jihad on any reviewer who dares to have the audacity to treat TDK as anything less than utterly stellar, mindblowing, and hopefully something that will finally allow them to lose that pesky virginity that they’ve been carting around for the past couple of decades, and it’s sort of a joke.

I can understand if someone’s passionate about something. I’m passionate about politics, social issues, music, videogames, books, and film as a medium. But there is a definite borderline between passion and psychosis, and it seems as if the fanboys seem to be playing hopscotch with it at their own discretion when it comes to this project. The fanaticism has reached a boiling point, and I don’t doubt that the fur will be flying even more once the movie releases (whenever that is, I couldn’t tell you the street date to save my life, go see Hellboy 2 this Friday), but from what I can tell, the fatal flaw of the fanboy fluffers is this – half of them haven’t even seen the god damned movie yet.

Instead, they’ve managed to work themselves into an orgiastic frenzy, obsessing over and dissecting every piece of advertising that’s been sleekly doled out to them by DC and the studios, and holding it up almost as if it were the cure for cancer. While my initial reaction is to be horribly depressed with seeing people putting so much faith and time into analyzing an AD CAMPAIGN, my second reaction is…well…don’t you need to experience something before you can talk about how great it is? Sure, you always have that friend who talks about getting laid in wild sexcapades that would make Hugh Hefner clutch his pacemaker, but you can only listen to so many stories of wild hot cheerleader orgies before you have to call bullshit and ask for evidence.

And to make it worse, the fans of this film have taken it upon themselves to be the arbiters of discussion of this film, pretending that they have some sort of clout and that any bad opinions regarding this film will certainly end the careers and possibly the lives of anyone who dares speak out against the film. I’m almost certain that if the same geniuses behind this ad campaign wanted to surreptitiously start a cult, they could inject subliminal messages into each one-sheet and teaser trailer and form an insane gibbering mass of followers willing to do anything in the name of Batman. But I digress. When someone’s dedication to something becomes so fierce, so unrepentant, so bold that they immediately assume the responsibility of silencing or at the very least threatening those who disagree, they seriously need to back up and check their dedication to whatever their cause may be – especially if it’s centered around a film based on a comic book.

Now I’m not writing this as an insult to hardcore Batfans. If you love something, you love it. I’m very interested in the film and am looking forward to seeing it and experiencing something that will hopefully be a great new step in the public’s perception of comic book films. But I’m also not going to allow myself to get wrapped up in the laughably immature mindset that’s fueling the TDK hype machine. Will it be a masterpiece? I’d like for it to be. I really loved Batman Begins, I’d love to see Christopher Nolan succeed even more than he has so far as a director, and he’s got a pretty stellar cast with some great potential. But I’m also going to hold my tongue and hope that he’s learned to film fight scenes since Batman Begins.

Opinions in moderation, folks. That’s all that matters.

March 16, 2008

Dear Hipster Douchebag,

Thank you for stopping right in the driveway of our parking garage while I was attempting to back in. Your stone gaze at the back of the RAV4 was almost awe-inspiring, and the way that you took a huge drag off of your cigarette in a very stoic, manly way while NOT MOVING probably melted at least three uteruses within 10 feet of you, two of which actually belonged to squirrels.

I duly apologize for cutting into your moment of deep introspection by rolling down my window and screaming "I'M TRYING TO PARK HERE, CAN YOU MOVE?!?" Your immediate reaction of ambling out of the driveway and turning to face me as I passed was pretty awesome too, and I'm sure that you were ready, steeling all of your powerful might in preparation to kick my pasty 100 lb. ass. I also didn't mean to frighten you by getting out of the car and stomping toward you, but I'm sure you were still planning on maybe kicking my ass later as you turned tail and started walking away really quickly. That's not a problem, I can arrange it, just have your people call my people and I'll line up so that you can let loose with all of your stringy, anorexic hipster rage and maybe channel it into a vigorous slap to my pectoral muscles.

Thanks for your display of manliness,
The Killing Machine

February 24, 2008

Oscar night. What a bunch of bullshit. It’s the night that all the studios get to stand around and jerk each other off and tell each other how great they are, and people treat them with credibility.

I’m a huge fan of movies. I love them so much it’s not even funny, so when I say that I couldn’t give a fuck less about the Oscars, it’s not because I hate the medium – far from it.

I hate the Oscars because they represent everything that’s wrong with Hollywood. Because they’re honestly insignificant. Because it’s another empty reason to get people to crowd around their televisions.

Once a film wins an Oscar, everyone treats it with a newfound respect and dignity that they somehow couldn’t afford to give it when it first premiered. Amazing films that could have used that extra box-office push within its first few weeks get the shaft, and suddenly after the film wins ten Oscars people rush out to see it. Not only do they rush out to see it, but they often don’t get it. It’s either “Well, I didn’t understand the movie, but that’s okay because it won an Oscar, so it has to mean something to someone!”, or “Okay, we saw it, let me be a pretentious ass and read way too much into the film so that I can form my own lame, illogical theories about the movie.”

Yeah, sorry it’s not Norbit or Wild Hogs, people, but is it so much to ask for you to work with the material? Oh, wait, this is the same movie-going public who whines when a film has subtitles because they “don’t like to read while watching a movie”.

Maybe it’s just me being even more bitter and angry because I’m not feeling well(at all), but the Oscars can suck my dick.