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From the mind that brought you Junkyard Wolf's Junkyard
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Saturday, October 2, 2010
A Brief Note on Celdran's Little Media Whore Stunt
Using Rizal to defend this noxious deal with Mephistopheles that is the RH Bill is like some moron stoner using Thomas Jefferson to defend marijuana use in public.
Celdran did not strike a blow for his cause that day. All he did was drag Rizal through the dirt. For never has Rizal argued for the slow extinction of the Filipino as Lagman and his Mad Men have.
I have long said that the demons that have haunted the West would make their way here, for we are a Western country no matter how hard we try to deny it. Now, the night is drawing near.
On a side note, the Church should just excommunicate Noynoy Aquino. Sure, the Church will be hit with both barrels by our shrill, manipulative media, but She's gonna get the shotgun treatment anyway. If you're going to go down, it is best to go down standing. The Bishops made a mistake supporting this amateur for president. They should grow some balls and rectify that mistake.
Celdran did not strike a blow for his cause that day. All he did was drag Rizal through the dirt. For never has Rizal argued for the slow extinction of the Filipino as Lagman and his Mad Men have.
I have long said that the demons that have haunted the West would make their way here, for we are a Western country no matter how hard we try to deny it. Now, the night is drawing near.
On a side note, the Church should just excommunicate Noynoy Aquino. Sure, the Church will be hit with both barrels by our shrill, manipulative media, but She's gonna get the shotgun treatment anyway. If you're going to go down, it is best to go down standing. The Bishops made a mistake supporting this amateur for president. They should grow some balls and rectify that mistake.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
May Day Eve 2010 Trailer
ViARE Presents
May Day Eve 2010
Directed by Juan Ekis
Trailer
Director: J. R. Guillermo
Cinematographer: Joachim Antonio and T.J. Aguirre
Editor: J. R. Guillermo and Joachim Antonio
Score: Joao Atienza and Ian Amane
Monday, September 13, 2010
The Sexual Revolution Will Die with a Wig On
Camille Paglia, one of the most articulate cultural defenders of the Sexual Revolution that began with the concept of reproductive freedom, is seeing the the gruesome end of her labors. And the end is personified in that un-erotic mannequin this last generation has elevated to the status of "icon", Lady Gaga.
Gaga has borrowed so heavily from Madonna (as in her latest video-Alejandro) that it must be asked, at what point does homage become theft? However, the main point is that the young Madonna was on fire. She was indeed the imperious Marlene Dietrich’s true heir. For Gaga, sex is mainly decor and surface; she’s like a laminated piece of ersatz rococo furniture. Alarmingly, Generation Gaga can’t tell the difference. Is it the death of sex? Perhaps the symbolic status that sex had for a century has gone kaput; that blazing trajectory is over…
While I do not share her admiration for the fake Madonna (I have infinitely greater love and admiration for the real one), I bemusedly share her fascination with the total collapse of what the Sexual Revolution categorizes as "erotic". After years of being told that sexual freedom is...well... sexy, it is funny how plain, boring and plastic the resulting erotica is. There is only so much capital sex can put out, stored up in century upon century of mystique and mystery. Like with the financial system, the well of that capital is not inexhaustible. We've dried up in forty years what took millenia to build up.
We have learned, to our great detriment, that sex divorced from the transcendent which gave it power becomes just another routine animal activity. Dump after you pump.
At the end of this crap-colored rainbow stands Lady Gaga, possibly the ugliest, cheesiest, creepiest living thing to be ever named a sex symbol. She is the epitome of "poseur" - a rebel bankrolled by a marketing committee; a hack promoted as an artist. One thing that Ms. Paglia seems to overlook is that borrowing from fake Madonna is not like borrowing from Mozart. It is simply because fake Madonna's brilliance, borne at the vanguard of the Sexual Revolution, cannot be sustained for it contains nothing timeless. It is a thing of the moment; a stupid thing meant to die with its moment. Among Lady Gaga's litany of mediocrities is her inability to find a better source to borrow from.
Those couples with large numbers of children which horrify the champions of the Sexual Revolution likely have a greater store of the erotic than the sterile culture-makers for whom sex is but a hobby. After all, these large-brooded couples keep having sex. Those children have to come from somewhere.
I remember a scene from the first "Godfather" movie, where Al Pacino's Michael Corleone meets Simonetta Stefanelli's Apollonia Vitelli while walking in a wheat field in Sicily. Apollonia was wearing simple purple dress, long and chaste, nothing fancy. But she radiates such a glow that Michael Corleone is dumbstruck. Their courtship occurs under the watch of Apollonia's conservative relatives, but because of this, every gesture becomes loaded with sexual tension, from her hand on a necklace to the two of them walking together. The couple are wed in church, and the movie has their first kiss come before the priest and the village. The resulting "first night" scene, where Apollonia shyly takes off her simple white nightgown in front of her husband for the first time, has more eroticism packed into it than a three-hour porno.
Unfortunately for Generation Sex, all they've been served (and are serving) for the past forty-odd years are nothing more than three-hour pornos. Long, boring, and ultimately tiring. When sex becomes this rote and pointless, I wonder if Generation Sex will even manage to get off its ass long enough to beget another.
So, this is the party at the end of the Revolution: a bunch of asexual blow-up goth dolls gyrating listlessly to "Alejandro".
Gaga has borrowed so heavily from Madonna (as in her latest video-Alejandro) that it must be asked, at what point does homage become theft? However, the main point is that the young Madonna was on fire. She was indeed the imperious Marlene Dietrich’s true heir. For Gaga, sex is mainly decor and surface; she’s like a laminated piece of ersatz rococo furniture. Alarmingly, Generation Gaga can’t tell the difference. Is it the death of sex? Perhaps the symbolic status that sex had for a century has gone kaput; that blazing trajectory is over…
While I do not share her admiration for the fake Madonna (I have infinitely greater love and admiration for the real one), I bemusedly share her fascination with the total collapse of what the Sexual Revolution categorizes as "erotic". After years of being told that sexual freedom is...well... sexy, it is funny how plain, boring and plastic the resulting erotica is. There is only so much capital sex can put out, stored up in century upon century of mystique and mystery. Like with the financial system, the well of that capital is not inexhaustible. We've dried up in forty years what took millenia to build up.
We have learned, to our great detriment, that sex divorced from the transcendent which gave it power becomes just another routine animal activity. Dump after you pump.
At the end of this crap-colored rainbow stands Lady Gaga, possibly the ugliest, cheesiest, creepiest living thing to be ever named a sex symbol. She is the epitome of "poseur" - a rebel bankrolled by a marketing committee; a hack promoted as an artist. One thing that Ms. Paglia seems to overlook is that borrowing from fake Madonna is not like borrowing from Mozart. It is simply because fake Madonna's brilliance, borne at the vanguard of the Sexual Revolution, cannot be sustained for it contains nothing timeless. It is a thing of the moment; a stupid thing meant to die with its moment. Among Lady Gaga's litany of mediocrities is her inability to find a better source to borrow from.
Those couples with large numbers of children which horrify the champions of the Sexual Revolution likely have a greater store of the erotic than the sterile culture-makers for whom sex is but a hobby. After all, these large-brooded couples keep having sex. Those children have to come from somewhere.
I remember a scene from the first "Godfather" movie, where Al Pacino's Michael Corleone meets Simonetta Stefanelli's Apollonia Vitelli while walking in a wheat field in Sicily. Apollonia was wearing simple purple dress, long and chaste, nothing fancy. But she radiates such a glow that Michael Corleone is dumbstruck. Their courtship occurs under the watch of Apollonia's conservative relatives, but because of this, every gesture becomes loaded with sexual tension, from her hand on a necklace to the two of them walking together. The couple are wed in church, and the movie has their first kiss come before the priest and the village. The resulting "first night" scene, where Apollonia shyly takes off her simple white nightgown in front of her husband for the first time, has more eroticism packed into it than a three-hour porno.
Unfortunately for Generation Sex, all they've been served (and are serving) for the past forty-odd years are nothing more than three-hour pornos. Long, boring, and ultimately tiring. When sex becomes this rote and pointless, I wonder if Generation Sex will even manage to get off its ass long enough to beget another.
So, this is the party at the end of the Revolution: a bunch of asexual blow-up goth dolls gyrating listlessly to "Alejandro".
Sunday, August 29, 2010
What England Was...
Theodore Dalrymple writes in an article called "The End of Virtuous Albion":
The husband of another of my patients, a man in his late seventies, described how his wife's compulsions--constant checking that the gas was turned off, for example, and repeated scrubbing of surfaces that were obviously already spotlessly clean--had sometimes made his life very difficult. His wife's compulsions had lasted fifty years, and since she never completed her checking she was often unable to leave the house.
"Why did you stay with her?" I asked, my question demonstrating that I was myself a creature of the modern age.
"I made a promise in church fifty years ago," he said. "And I meant it."
There are more such examples as Dalrymple tried to put into words his feelings about the decline of the British character. These old Englishmen, polite, unflinching, stoic, and still possessed of a remarkable sense of honor, stands in stark contrast to all those morons who make up my "UK Run by the Stupids" files.
It was for men such as the above, who would not leave a most annoying woman due to a promise given in church, or the one who did not wish to disturb his doctor except for the now-unbearable pain, these guys were the stuff England was once made of. It was for this aged generation that "There Will Always Be an England" was sung, and you could believe it with the stern strength of character possessed by many common men of that time.
Today? The UK is just waiting to be euthanized into an Islamic fiefdom. Its current generation of arrogant, Pop-glugging hooligans are ultimately spineless in the most important things. And now, Albion's time is almost up. There won't always be an England.
The husband of another of my patients, a man in his late seventies, described how his wife's compulsions--constant checking that the gas was turned off, for example, and repeated scrubbing of surfaces that were obviously already spotlessly clean--had sometimes made his life very difficult. His wife's compulsions had lasted fifty years, and since she never completed her checking she was often unable to leave the house.
"Why did you stay with her?" I asked, my question demonstrating that I was myself a creature of the modern age.
"I made a promise in church fifty years ago," he said. "And I meant it."
There are more such examples as Dalrymple tried to put into words his feelings about the decline of the British character. These old Englishmen, polite, unflinching, stoic, and still possessed of a remarkable sense of honor, stands in stark contrast to all those morons who make up my "UK Run by the Stupids" files.
It was for men such as the above, who would not leave a most annoying woman due to a promise given in church, or the one who did not wish to disturb his doctor except for the now-unbearable pain, these guys were the stuff England was once made of. It was for this aged generation that "There Will Always Be an England" was sung, and you could believe it with the stern strength of character possessed by many common men of that time.
Today? The UK is just waiting to be euthanized into an Islamic fiefdom. Its current generation of arrogant, Pop-glugging hooligans are ultimately spineless in the most important things. And now, Albion's time is almost up. There won't always be an England.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Sports I Find Unwatchable
Sports are one of the greatest entertainment events in the world. They provide a lot of action, some built-in drama and conflict, as well as a feeling of gritty reality that so-called reality shows can only dream of. Plus, they make excellent analogues for a human past-time one can no longer indulge at will: war.
However, I find some of them a chore to watch, for several reasons. Sometimes it's the nature of the sport. Sometimes, its the participants. After all, not all sports are bone-crunchingly, high-flyingly equal.
(Note: These are just sports I've encountered personally, whether live or on TV, and are considered actual sports. Sorry, chess, poker, billiards and cheerleading.)
Men's Tennis
I used to love tennis, back before I discovered videogames and fun. I quickly realized that tennis, while fast-paced and occasionally frenetic, is essentially human Pong with a needlessly confusing scoring system. Of course, I should have said "Tennis" instead of "Men's Tennis", but I still find some juvenile delight in hearing girls in short skirts grunt loudly. That's the only reason I'd watch women's tennis. That and the prospect of seeing a future supermodel.
Oh, and to keep up with the latest in super soldier steroids....
Also applies to: Badminton, Table Tennis
Golf
I don't know why golf gets so much coverage. I can understand golf as a hobby for old men whose athleticism had deserted them around the same time their prostates did. But, as a spectator sport, I cannot imagine being excited by a bunch of middle-aged guys (or dykes) strolling around grassy knolls with their manservants carrying all the stuff. (This is, like, 85% of the sport.) Even when Tiger Woods, the most athletic, exciting golfer in the history of ever, played, I always believed that he should be playing basketball or football instead. It seemed like he got more of a workout with a stripper on his lap than with a club in his hands.
Pictured: Athlete?
Also applies to: Any sport where you spend more time cutting business deals than playing.
Women's Basketball
Basketball is a great game. People speak of soccer as "the beautiful game" when played a certain way (Brazil, Barcelona and 70's Holland), but basketball has its savage beauty already so inherent that it need not be described as "the beautiful game" simply because it already is. The muscling in the paint, bone-crunching picks, the rising form of the jumpshot, the elegant fastbreak and the swift, graceful savagery of the slam dunk all combine to make basketball one of the most amazing athletic endeavours to behold. But all that is in the men's game.
The women's game is slow, ponderous and played way, way below the rim. There is just a fraction of the athleticism and excitement. Slam dunks are so glaringly absent that the politically-correct media celebrates the prospect of a girl "dunking" like its the Second Coming of Christ, never mind the fact that the "girl dunk" is just a glorified lay up where your fingers graze the rim. Ostensibly, the excuse is that the women's game is about basketball "fundamentals", but the women's game even does "fundamentals" badly. Even Mr. Fundamentals (aka Tim Duncan) can make the game look coherent, intelligible and exciting. Sheryl Swoopes, the so-called "female Jordan" (if Jordan couldn't dunk, shoot the fade-away or play defense), looks that way because she's guarded by Susie, the "blonde who once took up Child Welfare studies in college before experimenting".
The only reason the WNBA exists is because the NBA needs a charitable cause to its politically-correct name. That, and the world needs a place to see lesbians making out in public. Unfortunately for the WNBA, most of its lesbians are the "grizzly bears with mullets" kind.
Girl-on-girl action...???
Also applies to: most women's versions of men's team sports, with notable exceptions being women's volleyball and women's soccer.
Equestrian Jumping
So your horse can jump. Yay. Sign my souvenir program, horse.
Now, if you give the rider a lance and some armor, then we're in business....
All sports should be like this....
Also applies to: All non-racing equestrian events...until they legitimize jousting.
Men's Figure Skating
Women's figure skating can be a joy to watch. A slender woman in some pretty tights twirls to classical Western music, and the world applauds this celebration of femininity. It's like the culmination of feminine grace on stage for everyone to admire.
Then some dude similarly dressed comes along and ruins it all.
Look, if I wanted to see some faggy drag queen gyrating to music, (and I never, ever want to see this) I'd be in a gay club, not watching TV.
Someone do the world a favor and kick all men's figure skaters in the nuts. Of course, that won't hurt much as they're probably already neutered.
Men, men, men, men, manly men....
Also applies to: the Gay Olympics
Women's Power-Lifting
Take everything that was sublime about women's figure skating and find the direct opposite. This is women's power-lifting.
The only time I'd be watching this sport is after I have pledged to never sleep with a woman, ever again.
Her milkshake caused the formation of a new fault line...
Also applies to: Women's body-building
However, I find some of them a chore to watch, for several reasons. Sometimes it's the nature of the sport. Sometimes, its the participants. After all, not all sports are bone-crunchingly, high-flyingly equal.
(Note: These are just sports I've encountered personally, whether live or on TV, and are considered actual sports. Sorry, chess, poker, billiards and cheerleading.)
Men's Tennis
I used to love tennis, back before I discovered videogames and fun. I quickly realized that tennis, while fast-paced and occasionally frenetic, is essentially human Pong with a needlessly confusing scoring system. Of course, I should have said "Tennis" instead of "Men's Tennis", but I still find some juvenile delight in hearing girls in short skirts grunt loudly. That's the only reason I'd watch women's tennis. That and the prospect of seeing a future supermodel.
Oh, and to keep up with the latest in super soldier steroids....Also applies to: Badminton, Table Tennis
Golf
I don't know why golf gets so much coverage. I can understand golf as a hobby for old men whose athleticism had deserted them around the same time their prostates did. But, as a spectator sport, I cannot imagine being excited by a bunch of middle-aged guys (or dykes) strolling around grassy knolls with their manservants carrying all the stuff. (This is, like, 85% of the sport.) Even when Tiger Woods, the most athletic, exciting golfer in the history of ever, played, I always believed that he should be playing basketball or football instead. It seemed like he got more of a workout with a stripper on his lap than with a club in his hands.
Pictured: Athlete?Also applies to: Any sport where you spend more time cutting business deals than playing.
Women's Basketball
Basketball is a great game. People speak of soccer as "the beautiful game" when played a certain way (Brazil, Barcelona and 70's Holland), but basketball has its savage beauty already so inherent that it need not be described as "the beautiful game" simply because it already is. The muscling in the paint, bone-crunching picks, the rising form of the jumpshot, the elegant fastbreak and the swift, graceful savagery of the slam dunk all combine to make basketball one of the most amazing athletic endeavours to behold. But all that is in the men's game.
The women's game is slow, ponderous and played way, way below the rim. There is just a fraction of the athleticism and excitement. Slam dunks are so glaringly absent that the politically-correct media celebrates the prospect of a girl "dunking" like its the Second Coming of Christ, never mind the fact that the "girl dunk" is just a glorified lay up where your fingers graze the rim. Ostensibly, the excuse is that the women's game is about basketball "fundamentals", but the women's game even does "fundamentals" badly. Even Mr. Fundamentals (aka Tim Duncan) can make the game look coherent, intelligible and exciting. Sheryl Swoopes, the so-called "female Jordan" (if Jordan couldn't dunk, shoot the fade-away or play defense), looks that way because she's guarded by Susie, the "blonde who once took up Child Welfare studies in college before experimenting".
The only reason the WNBA exists is because the NBA needs a charitable cause to its politically-correct name. That, and the world needs a place to see lesbians making out in public. Unfortunately for the WNBA, most of its lesbians are the "grizzly bears with mullets" kind.
Girl-on-girl action...???Also applies to: most women's versions of men's team sports, with notable exceptions being women's volleyball and women's soccer.
Equestrian Jumping
So your horse can jump. Yay. Sign my souvenir program, horse.
Now, if you give the rider a lance and some armor, then we're in business....
All sports should be like this....Also applies to: All non-racing equestrian events...until they legitimize jousting.
Men's Figure Skating
Women's figure skating can be a joy to watch. A slender woman in some pretty tights twirls to classical Western music, and the world applauds this celebration of femininity. It's like the culmination of feminine grace on stage for everyone to admire.
Then some dude similarly dressed comes along and ruins it all.
Look, if I wanted to see some faggy drag queen gyrating to music, (and I never, ever want to see this) I'd be in a gay club, not watching TV.
Someone do the world a favor and kick all men's figure skaters in the nuts. Of course, that won't hurt much as they're probably already neutered.
Men, men, men, men, manly men.... Also applies to: the Gay Olympics
Women's Power-Lifting
Take everything that was sublime about women's figure skating and find the direct opposite. This is women's power-lifting.
The only time I'd be watching this sport is after I have pledged to never sleep with a woman, ever again.
Her milkshake caused the formation of a new fault line...Also applies to: Women's body-building
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Flirting is Now a College Course
Potsdam University wants its IT geek swamp to reproduce, after all.
Of course, only grad students need apply.
I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
Of course, only grad students need apply.
I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
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