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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.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Speaking of the Sons of the French Revolution
It looks like the country that no longer exists is having another one of those fits of multicultural love as expressed by its most multicultural activity: rioting.
You have the French Chinese rioting against the French Moslems.
And then you have the French Moslems rioting against...everybody else.
More fun in the land of Robbespierre.
Whereas France used to be this:
Bayard, one of France's greatest knightsIt is now this:
Some Moslems celebrating multiculturalismSunday, July 18, 2010
Last Week Was Bastille Day
And to give this wretched day and the rest of the French Revolution a big middle finger, here is a look at the last letter written by the person most caricatured and villified by the murderous French revolutionaries: Marie Antionette.
The letter was written to her sister, and the letter was held and never delivered by the monster Robbespierre. Some excerpts:
Let my daughter feel that at her age she ought always to aid her brother by the advice which her greater experience and her affection may inspire her to give him. And let my son in his turn render to his sister all the care and all the services which affection can inspire. Let them, in short, both feel that, in whatever positions they may be placed, they will never be truly happy but through their union. Let them follow our example. In our own misfortunes how much comfort has our affection for one another afforded us! And, in times of happiness, we have enjoyed that doubly from being able to share it with a friend; and where can one find friends more tender and more united than in one's own family? Let my son never forget the last words of his father, which I repeat emphatically; let him never seek to avenge our deaths.
...
I die in the Catholic Apostolic and Roman religion, that of my fathers, that in which I was brought up, and which I have always professed. Having no spiritual consolation to look for, not even knowing whether there are still in this place any priests of that religion (and indeed the place where I am would expose them to too much danger if they were to enter it but once), I sincerely implore pardon of God for all the faults which I may have committed during my life. I trust that, in His goodness, He will mercifully accept my last prayers, as well as those which I have for a long time addressed to Him, to receive my soul into His mercy. I beg pardon of all whom I know, and especially of you, my sister, for all the vexations which, without intending it, I may have caused you. I pardon all my enemies the evils that they have done me.
Far from being the cartoon villain of "let them eat cake" infamy (a quote falsely atrributed to her), she was an intelligent and spiritual woman whose strength and willfulness both made her an important partner for her kingly husband and an easy target for her husband's enemies. (Being Austrian, and therefore foreign, made things even easier.)
In the end, she conducted herself with such grace during her trial that her prosecutors came off looking like the vultures they were. Months after her own execution, the beasts started eating each other.
The letter was written to her sister, and the letter was held and never delivered by the monster Robbespierre. Some excerpts:
Let my daughter feel that at her age she ought always to aid her brother by the advice which her greater experience and her affection may inspire her to give him. And let my son in his turn render to his sister all the care and all the services which affection can inspire. Let them, in short, both feel that, in whatever positions they may be placed, they will never be truly happy but through their union. Let them follow our example. In our own misfortunes how much comfort has our affection for one another afforded us! And, in times of happiness, we have enjoyed that doubly from being able to share it with a friend; and where can one find friends more tender and more united than in one's own family? Let my son never forget the last words of his father, which I repeat emphatically; let him never seek to avenge our deaths.
...
I die in the Catholic Apostolic and Roman religion, that of my fathers, that in which I was brought up, and which I have always professed. Having no spiritual consolation to look for, not even knowing whether there are still in this place any priests of that religion (and indeed the place where I am would expose them to too much danger if they were to enter it but once), I sincerely implore pardon of God for all the faults which I may have committed during my life. I trust that, in His goodness, He will mercifully accept my last prayers, as well as those which I have for a long time addressed to Him, to receive my soul into His mercy. I beg pardon of all whom I know, and especially of you, my sister, for all the vexations which, without intending it, I may have caused you. I pardon all my enemies the evils that they have done me.
Far from being the cartoon villain of "let them eat cake" infamy (a quote falsely atrributed to her), she was an intelligent and spiritual woman whose strength and willfulness both made her an important partner for her kingly husband and an easy target for her husband's enemies. (Being Austrian, and therefore foreign, made things even easier.)
In the end, she conducted herself with such grace during her trial that her prosecutors came off looking like the vultures they were. Months after her own execution, the beasts started eating each other.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
If I Were to Practice One Eccentric Sport...
...it would be jousting.
I mean, come on, look at these guys!
Not pictured: flopping for penalties and charging fouls
If this becomes a professional sport, I hope some sports channel carries it.
Look at it: all the violence of American football and some really sweet-looking armor. As a combat sport, it suffers from a system that pauses after spurts of action (like American football and boxing) in order to allow fallen competitors to regroup, and this opens it to exploitation by advertisers. However, there is no rolling around and writhing together for whole rounds like in MMA. Plus, you are assured of bone-crunching hits and flowing testosterone.
All this while wearing some of the most beautiful armor ever made.
Sign me up.
PS
On the downside, its really expensive.
I mean, come on, look at these guys!
Not pictured: flopping for penalties and charging foulsIf this becomes a professional sport, I hope some sports channel carries it.
Look at it: all the violence of American football and some really sweet-looking armor. As a combat sport, it suffers from a system that pauses after spurts of action (like American football and boxing) in order to allow fallen competitors to regroup, and this opens it to exploitation by advertisers. However, there is no rolling around and writhing together for whole rounds like in MMA. Plus, you are assured of bone-crunching hits and flowing testosterone.
All this while wearing some of the most beautiful armor ever made.
Sign me up.
PS
On the downside, its really expensive.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Viva España!
What a great way for all of it to end. A victory for Spanish / FC Barcelona football, and for football in general!
While I feel for the Orange, I find it a good thing that dirty, thuggish football lost today.
And yes, a team I like finally didn't suck!
Oh, and Nike refused to leave well enough alone, cursing one of the few nice Dutch players with this just before the final:
While I feel for the Orange, I find it a good thing that dirty, thuggish football lost today.
And yes, a team I like finally didn't suck!
Oh, and Nike refused to leave well enough alone, cursing one of the few nice Dutch players with this just before the final:
Sneijder should have known better....
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Twilight for Guys
The video's NSFW, so I'll only post the link.
Quotes:
This movie was freakin' awesome!
That shit choked me up....
Its like a female Shawshank Redemption, directed by Michael Bay!
It was the writing that did it for me....
I thought these movies were really gay, but it was the good gay...
Quotes:
This movie was freakin' awesome!
That shit choked me up....
Its like a female Shawshank Redemption, directed by Michael Bay!
It was the writing that did it for me....
I thought these movies were really gay, but it was the good gay...
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
G20 Finally Realizes Global Warming Fraud
It was easy to go parroting global warming when the summer is hot. This past summer sure was. It is harder to put things in perspective. Hot as it was, this summer didn't feel as hot as the summer of 2000.
That said, its looking like the world's leading nations are finally "warming" up to the notion that Global Warming is an Al Gore-drenched fraud of massive proportions.
When your advocacy requires that you spend billions of other peoples' money to prop up the warm hackles of rich people's hearts, you're going to get called on it. The last thing the world needs is another damn tax to satisfy the greenies.
That said, its looking like the world's leading nations are finally "warming" up to the notion that Global Warming is an Al Gore-drenched fraud of massive proportions.
When your advocacy requires that you spend billions of other peoples' money to prop up the warm hackles of rich people's hearts, you're going to get called on it. The last thing the world needs is another damn tax to satisfy the greenies.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Soccer's Madden Curse
I'm sure the sports and videogame geeks out there are familiar with the Madden curse. Whenever an NFL player appears on the cover of a Madden football videogame, he is bound to encounter catastrophe the next season.
Now, soccer has its own version, thanks to Nike.
Watch this:
Look at the superstars who participated in that commercial (which came out in May) and their World Cup performances afterward.
Didier Drogba: Broke his arm in a friendly against Japan. One meaningless goal as his team gets knocked out in the group stages.
Fabio Cannavaro: Limps through three games as Italy is knocked out by Slovakia (and that really awesome mohawk) in the group stages.
Wayne Rooney: Goes scoreless as England gets murdered by eternal rival Germany in the first knockout stage.
Franck Ribery: Had the shittiest World Cup of those participants who did make it. Participated in the great French team blow-up that has made them the embarrassment of the tournament. Also the ugliest soccer player to be named a star. (Looks like a child molester, and I'd include the soliciting underage prostitutes charges against him if they had occured after the commercial was released.)
Ronaldinho: Didn't even make it to the World Cup. Snubbed by Dunga.
Cristiano Ronaldo: This king of the World Cup douchebags (the commercial portrays him as such) managed one goal in four games and gets shut down by Spain as Portugal gets knocked out at the first knockout stage. I liked Portugal, but Ronaldo was an ass with an atittude problem.
Cameos:
Landon Donovan and Tim Howard: Team USA crashes out ignominously against Ghana in the first knockout stage. Howard concedes two goals and Donovan gasses out in extra time.
Theo Walcott: Didn't even get called up.
Cesc Fabregas: Cesc who? Though to be fair, Spain's still in it at this point, but unless your name is David Villa or Andres Iniesta, you don't get to take credit. Plus, Fabregas has taken the field for all of...what...15 minutes? I get the feeling Spanish manager del Bosque has been briefed about the curse, likely from watching the next guy...
Update: His premature run gets a potential game-winning goal disallowed and his attempt to rebound a shot results in an injured shoulder.
Gerard Pique: Spain's still in the hunt, but still... hehehehe.... poor bastard. Not only was he the reason Spain lost to Switzerland, giving ominous signs for Spain's historic choking, he ends up with two boots to the face and a swift shot to the crotch. Having fun yet, Pique?
Update: While Spain is doing well, his individual performance continues to suffer as he almost gives the game away to Paraguay via a stupid penalty box foul.
I wonder what this curse will be called? The Nike curse? The "Write the Future" curse?
Hehe, "write the future"...
Now, soccer has its own version, thanks to Nike.
Watch this:
Look at the superstars who participated in that commercial (which came out in May) and their World Cup performances afterward.
Didier Drogba: Broke his arm in a friendly against Japan. One meaningless goal as his team gets knocked out in the group stages.
Fabio Cannavaro: Limps through three games as Italy is knocked out by Slovakia (and that really awesome mohawk) in the group stages.
Wayne Rooney: Goes scoreless as England gets murdered by eternal rival Germany in the first knockout stage.
Franck Ribery: Had the shittiest World Cup of those participants who did make it. Participated in the great French team blow-up that has made them the embarrassment of the tournament. Also the ugliest soccer player to be named a star. (Looks like a child molester, and I'd include the soliciting underage prostitutes charges against him if they had occured after the commercial was released.)
Ronaldinho: Didn't even make it to the World Cup. Snubbed by Dunga.
Cristiano Ronaldo: This king of the World Cup douchebags (the commercial portrays him as such) managed one goal in four games and gets shut down by Spain as Portugal gets knocked out at the first knockout stage. I liked Portugal, but Ronaldo was an ass with an atittude problem.
Cameos:
Landon Donovan and Tim Howard: Team USA crashes out ignominously against Ghana in the first knockout stage. Howard concedes two goals and Donovan gasses out in extra time.
Theo Walcott: Didn't even get called up.
Cesc Fabregas: Cesc who? Though to be fair, Spain's still in it at this point, but unless your name is David Villa or Andres Iniesta, you don't get to take credit. Plus, Fabregas has taken the field for all of...what...15 minutes? I get the feeling Spanish manager del Bosque has been briefed about the curse, likely from watching the next guy...
Update: His premature run gets a potential game-winning goal disallowed and his attempt to rebound a shot results in an injured shoulder.
Gerard Pique: Spain's still in the hunt, but still... hehehehe.... poor bastard. Not only was he the reason Spain lost to Switzerland, giving ominous signs for Spain's historic choking, he ends up with two boots to the face and a swift shot to the crotch. Having fun yet, Pique?
Update: While Spain is doing well, his individual performance continues to suffer as he almost gives the game away to Paraguay via a stupid penalty box foul.
I wonder what this curse will be called? The Nike curse? The "Write the Future" curse?
Hehe, "write the future"...
Not Quite Unforseen
Apparently, married women who grow sullen without Edward Cullen tend to make mince meat of their marriages. One more reason to hack off Stephanie Meyer's writing (typing) hand(s).
These two are supposed to be lovers. Yes, Meyer's fans are that creepy.
I guess sparkly vampires really can suck the life out of something, even if its the marriage of some malcontent with a vagina.
The article does get one thing wrong, though. Or rather, one of the quoted "scientists" is wrong. I've never met a man who would turn down sex with his wife over the performance of his favorite sports team. So that analogy is a wash.
These two are supposed to be lovers. Yes, Meyer's fans are that creepy. I guess sparkly vampires really can suck the life out of something, even if its the marriage of some malcontent with a vagina.
The article does get one thing wrong, though. Or rather, one of the quoted "scientists" is wrong. I've never met a man who would turn down sex with his wife over the performance of his favorite sports team. So that analogy is a wash.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Kim Jong Il Sucks at Football
Apparently, he's behind the atrocious tactics North Korea displayed in that squash match with Portugal. So much for a propaganda victory.
Hehe, cellphones not visble to the naked eye. I wonder what the little guy will think of next.
Hehe, cellphones not visble to the naked eye. I wonder what the little guy will think of next.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Escaping an Upset is Not a "Miracle"
It's funny how the American media is celebrating ther soccer team's 1-0 victory over Algeria.
They escaped being upset by the second-lowest ranked team in their group, and they all think it was USA vs. USSR in hockey all over gain.
Managing to avoid an early exit like Italy is not a "miracle". These idiots should get over themselves. If Donovan was any sort of superstar, this should have been a squash match like Portugal vs. North Korea. The fact that they needed 91 minutes to get it done speaks more "incompetent" than "world beater".
A little perspective goes a long way.
They escaped being upset by the second-lowest ranked team in their group, and they all think it was USA vs. USSR in hockey all over gain.
Managing to avoid an early exit like Italy is not a "miracle". These idiots should get over themselves. If Donovan was any sort of superstar, this should have been a squash match like Portugal vs. North Korea. The fact that they needed 91 minutes to get it done speaks more "incompetent" than "world beater".
A little perspective goes a long way.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
Toy Story 3
| Rating: | ★★★★★ |
| Category: | Movies |
| Genre: | Animation |
When was the last time you saw a movie trilogy that got better with every movie? I can't remember. But next time I am asked that question, I will undoubtably answer "Toy Story".
The first movie was quite good. The second movie was awesome. This third movie is the best of the trilogy. It offers the same sense of grand adventure as the second movie, but offers a final act that both captures a kaleidoscope of emotions and meaning and provide a good and proper final wrap to the entire enterprise. Sure, it is slightly more gag-driven than the second, and considering what the third film is supposed to be, there is little room for further character development (except for Woody), but the last act puts it slightly above the second movie in my opinion. Whereas the second movie's final act alludes to the toys reaching this point, the third fleshes the point out with powerful symbols and emotions.
Structurally, this is the opposite of last year's beautiful "Up", wherein the power of the first ten minutes contextualizes the rest of the movie. In "Toy Story 3", the entire movie builds up the power of its last ten minutes, and those last ten minutes I will carry with me for the rest of my life, just as I would the first ten of "Up".
I originally planned to break this review down into parts, but now I find that I can't. This movie should be seen as a whole, and appreciated as a whole. Every element is perfectly in sync, from the story-telling to the 3D cinematography. This is, by far, the best movie I've seen this year.
And for once, I don't want to spoil it. Go see it for yourself, and be amazed. Pixar is the American Studio Ghibli, and this movie seals the comparison.
When, at the end of the movie, Andy says "Thanks, guys", you will want to say the same. Thank you, Woody, Buzz, and Pixar. Thanks for everything.
Now, I'm going to go and hug my old toys.
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