Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Day 87

This still doesn't explain why there's a red light at the bottom...

Line of the week: Not three episodes into Boardwalk Empire and already two blowjob scenes? 1940s? Mo' like the 19blowme's!
Today at 2:27pm: Loading the laundry while singing Madison Avenue's Don't Call Me Baby...from MEMORY!

I watched the wants-to-be-a-real-movie Skyline on Friday morning and though I walked in expecting a mildly entertaining sci-fi action film, I stumbled out feeling like an idiot. This is usually the part where I would say how much of a waste of money it was, but on this particular occasion, I was prepared. During the summer I had gone to see Up in the Air at an early screening for free, and because the movie that was being shown in DIGITAL PROJECTION restarted three times, we all received a pass for a free movie, despite the fact that we hadn't spent money on the first one. Anyways, it was a horrible movie by the pretentious and cliche directors known only ass The Brothers Strauss. The movie is absurd and goes from a science fiction art-ish drama, to an action film to the most ridiculous ending that yields in the message: You can't stop love, because love is in the brain.

It starts off with actors we've seen in commercials and TV shows, all of which are 6-7 on the attractiveness scale, and 3-4 on the personality people-can-relate-to scale. Then we're introduced with aliens, kinda and there's a lot of fighting and small scenes that don't really lead to anything of interest. Eventually the military starts fighting back and we experience all this through a telescope that zooms like a digital camera and can track planes flying at hundreds of miles per hour and nuclear warheads with an amazing amount of success. Then some more arguing happens and some people die and the two main characters fight one of the aliens on the roof of the apartment building that the aliens seem REALLY interested in. If you're wondering what happens, the alien attacks the girl with its giant vaginal lips until her boyfriend/reluctant-father-of-her-child uses his intellect to discover the alien's crucial weakness: excessive punching to the head...which is exactly how he kills it. Anyways, they start getting sad and as the alien ship sucks them up, they kiss as they float up the air like reverse skydiving filmed by Lance Bass. Then the unstoppable power of love is showcased and you get the most ridiculous ending since Next.

I'm reading a book on the life cycle by Erik Erikson, though focusing more on the identity stage through adolescence. It's very nerdy, yes. Hell, I get random urges to read through the week, and I get to my room and grab one of the many books I have laying around that I haven't finished and actively read and make faces as I react to the content! I don't really know when or why I even bought it. As I think about it, however, this is probably my way of dealing with a lack of identity, which is something you'd think I would have worked out by now. Instead, I'm too busy focusing all my hate on ridiculous things like why lesbians, when they've clearly made their choice, still purchase and utilize dildos and other phallic products. If I owned a sex shop, which is an unlikely event, I wouldn't sell a single penis-shaped product to lesbians. They want vaginas 24/7? They can have 'em. As your unelected yet official Guyperson, I vow to never sell anything round to the lesbo community...whether it's real or not! Pick one and stick with're almost as greedy as the bisexuals.

On Saturday, I went to the apartment of a friend (Zack) of a friend (Marc), and was fortunate enough to arrive in the middle of four person jam session. When they finished, they mentioned that their neighbors had complained earlier about how loud they were playing. I had the idea for them to only play Michael Jackson music since it's considered a hate crime to not like it.
Neighbor: Knocks on door
One's self: Hey, what can I do for you?
Neighbor: Well, what you could do for me is turn your damn volume down! Some of us prefer to watch Family Feud, despite the fact that we couldn't tell you who the current host is since they seem to keep quitting every month!
One's self: Hey man, we're playing Michael Jackson covers...and he's dead!
Neighbor: What? I don-
One's self: He's DEAD! As in, never coming back alive.
Neighbor: ...yeah, but you can see him in a documentary and all his songs are on iTunes and I've eve-
One's self: But HE, that person, Michael Jackson, is no longer alive...don't you have any respect for the death of a famous person?
Neighbor: ...
One's self: Well thanks for stopping by, but I've gotta go; this compensation for the lack of a father figure isn't drowned out by itself!

I imagine that's what happens in a world where people think...'n stuff.

They also offered me coffee while I was there and since I don't normally enjoy the java, I said "No thanks," and by limiting my experiences and not doing something out of the ordinary, I have nothing to talk about. See how much life sucks when you say "no"? In a way, it's the MPAA of your brain; unnecessary and rarely-correct self regulation.

I was talking to Billy at Denny's (The restaurant, not the house of someone with the unfortunate name of Denny, which sounds like the homosexual version of Dennis) about technology, and we eventually came upon the topic of scientific advancements. To be precise; scientific advances stemming from the Nazi's experiments during the holocaust. Granted, it's easy to learn about something when you don't care what you do to it, but it's still astounding how much we learned about people through the holocaust. Pun only intended if understood.

My point is this, if I had to be a Nazi, and I'm not saying that I want to be a Nazi (I don't look good in neutral colors). If I was forced to be a Nazi manperson, like through some extravagant series of events where I obviously made the wrong decision time after time or an uncommon financial situation, then I would have to be the guy who pulls the levers that look like Bugs Bunny would use against his enemies. I'm assuming, of course, that I would be living in a world where choosing to be a Nazi would actually be a safer alternative to who know what. One would think pulling the switch that kills would be a horrible job to have, but think about how easy it would be and how high of a status your fellow Nazi-ites would give you.

Now that I'm thinking about the social structure of the Nazi's, I'm curious. I fully acknowledge that no good will eventually become of this, but do you think they kept a record of how many antiNazi's each had killed and boasted it to their friends? As a lever-puller, one would likely always have the highest number while doing the least of the physical work...though burdened to carry a significantly larger emotional workload than the others. Is this an acceptable trade? I would be inclined to disagree, unless you were allowed to say one liners before you pulled said lever. Something like "Ya burnt!" or "Does this open the garage door?" and "Weird, I can't get it this time, it's like something I can't see is trying to sto-Oh, there it goes. Whew, almost had to call the I.T. douchebags, always with their jokes about my insecurity as a man, and that I have to kill hundreds of Jews a day just to feel validated and accepted by the other men in my society that seem to have their shit together. I'm masculine GODDAMN IT!"

That's one insecure Nazi.

This week, I leave you with one of my favorite online videos, Hard Gay. It's an absolute treat for the whole family! Here's the one where he visits the Yahoo! offices, parts 1 and 2. Enjoy! Like Coke!

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Day 86

Grass often feels like pants when you're see-through.

Line of the Week: A lot of people like to blame Method Acting or drugs for Heath Ledger's death. Personally, I blame Christopher Nolan.

Here's a quote from a Google News article that was posted on that infamous social-vomit page known only as the facebook "news" feed. Here's the pitch:
A planned website, Harrasmap, will allow women to quickly report instances of harassment via text message or Twitter, to be loaded onto a digital map of Cairo to show hotspots and areas that might be dangerous for women to walk alone. The data will be shared with activists, media, and police.
So women are going to be raped and/or harassed and the first thing they're expected to do is pull out their phones and tweet their live-raping? Now, I don't know who's getting raped but not harassed, but this all seems pretty stupid. Will rapists have access to this information? Yes. Will they start hanging out near areas that are marked as "safe zones?" No doubt. Telling people where you've been raped is just as useful as telling people where you tripped in public, it's interesting information with little, if any, practical use.

For Halloween next year, I'm going to go as Marty McFly and have my girlfriend go as Lorraine McFly, because you simply can't beat a good incest gag.

I was babysitting my aunt's kids and when I took them for a walk (White parents in my subdivision do it, so it can't be bad), they started whining, as kids often do. Now, I'm no stranger to complaining, but kids complain about the most ridiculous things sometimes. It began with asking if they could go back to grab a PSP or something, then if I could drive them to a convenience store after to get candy and eventually led to saying that their feet hurt. At this very moment, my mouth made a decision without consulting my brain because I intensely explained that "There are kids in Africa who can't even afford feet!" Wisdom, consider yourself cream cheese because you've just been spread.

Things that bother me to the point of mentioning:
  • Mobile version of web sites
  • Straight ticket voting
  • Milk that's not whole...that is to say, incomplete milk.(Looking at you, 1%)
  • The colors red and green. Likely due to my colorblindness.
I went to a Hong Kong Food Market with my friend Marc for his Asian Literature class, which goes to show that they'll teach anything if you know enough about it, regardless of its practicality, or lack thereof. As we near the store, I start making a joke that the parking lot is going to be full of white Hondas and Toyotas, along with a bunch of old cars that just blend in. Cars so boring, your eyes don't even register them as a viable transportation option. Pulling in, what do I see but five white vehicles parked within thirty feet of eachother, proving that sometimes, racism is worth it.

Once inside, we head to what we assumed would be the most Chinese part of the Chinese SUPA-MARKET; the fish aisle. On our way, we passed a lunch table in front of what was the Chinese butcher's shop, where you could buy a duck for less than $15. We were starving and seriously considering buying a duck to eat while we walked around. Marc said that would never work, while I was convinced it would if we were to buy some plates in the plates aisle, some chopsticks in the woodware aisle and some napkins in the American products aisle. While he was looking around, I snapped pictures of interesting products.

The Chinese make Basil Seed Drink, Grass Jelly Drink, and Sierra Mist, which I assume is Chinese for Coke Suck. This is a big reason why I hate the Chinese...who drink Pepsi. Untrustworthy.

In America, everything says Made in China. In China, food says Made in USA.

Even the Chinese have their own version of a tortilla. How progressive of them!

When you use two sticks to eat your food, you realize the plate Americans give to their kids is going be your best option.

I don't get this picture. Who is ordering Banana Sauce and why is it not yellow and/or white? Also, who is disgusting enough to eat something called Banana Sauce made by UFC? I don't like where that's leading, those guys excrete worse shit than just insecurity and illiteracy.

This is a normal sized stick for a Chinese person, but a midget-beating stick for a regular sized person...or an African dildo...or what a chopstick looks like in my abnormally-skinny hands. I think they lent these out to the Japs for dolphin killing.

"Eyeround" Steak? Really? You guys aren't fooling anyone. There's no way to fix your eyes or gain peripheral vision; that's what you get for being born a Chinese. It's just science from god and that Zedong fellow.

Sweet Pineapple Gel? Is this what UFC makes guys rub on each other before a fight? Why is UFC making so many fruity products? I feel like there's something there...UFC...fruits...hmmm. I guess it's just one of those things we'll never understand.

A friend was watching Back to the Future because of its recent anniversary, and I have to ask: What the fuck is up with Marty's mom: Lorraine? I'm referring to that woman's deep psychological issues. When Marty beats Biff by eluding him into a truck full of poop (A common profession in the 1950s), she gets so wet she FOLLOWS HIM HOME. Do you know how fucking insane that is? To see someone beat another person up, follow them home without their knowledge and then knock on the door with obvious sexual intentions. Then, when George punches Biff before his rape scene, but after the cleavage/incest scene (My favorite), she completely forgets about Marty and whether he's alive or not. Then, following the white guy calling the black guys/reefer-addicts/musicians spooks, there's another scene where George is pushed by some douche and drags Lorraine off, presumably to rape her. If there's any piece of information you should leave this film with, rape was quite rampant in the white, suburbia, high school dances of the 1950s. Also, blacks were the only good musicians, reefer addicts and stole music from young, white students.

Similarly,there's been people who think it's weird that Marty McFly hangs out with a scientist who is clearly significantly older than him, but the reasons are obvious. George McFly, in the initial timeline, is bullied by Biff and his gang of minions (Plus the guy with the 3D glasses) and in turn, becomes a push over. This leads to him having even lower confidence than before, causing him to be a mentally and socially absent father and husband, creating a weak family scared of failure and excitement. Enter Doc Brown, Marty's father figure. He's more energetic, intelligent and engaging than his own father, the one person he doesn't want to be. After going back in time and putting his father in a situation that allows his life to changed in a way that improves his self worth, he gives himself the father he's always wanted. It's not about fixing the timeline, but about feeling fulfilled as a son.

That's all for now, tune in next time for another psychological cinematic analysis...or don't! Please do? Ok, we'll see. I'll leave you with one of my favorite animated gifs I came across years ago: