Just fixed up the Onion-style thing about Janeane Garofalo being lowered into a shredder that some people seemed to like, and some people misinterpreted as more like celebrity-bashing than a mockery of the "Bush Is Worse Than If Saddam & Hitler Had a Baby and It Strangled All My Childhood Pets" types. It's a pain in the ass to have to redo the graphics and line breaks on all this stuff from the old blog, but it's nice to be able to link to something and have it show up when people click the link.
Hey, do what you want to do. Just passing it along.
Update: Interesting suggestion from "Beck Atcha":
If they really wanted to make some quick money, they'd hold an eBay auction in which the highest bidder received an admission of fallibility from [Fantagraphics co-owners Gary] Groth and/or [Kim] Thompson on the topic of the bidder's choice, and in whatever format the bidder chose (written, videotaped, carved into Gary & Kim's bellies by their own hand, other).
Here is a typical day in the life of Zack De La Rocha:
10 am: Wake up crying.
11 am: Eat fair-trade tofu cereal, and cry.
12 pm: Lobby in D.C. for some brown people, and cry.
1 pm: Smoke a bong load. Cry. Talk about Che.
2 pm: Free Tibet with one-third of the Beastie Boys. Cry.
3 pm: Sell the entire Rage catalogue to the Matrix movies, revel in the money, then cry.
4 pm: Get new dread extensions.
5 pm: Eat a dick.
6 pm: Cry because he got replaced by a grunge rocker. Write a political manifesto about crying.
I imagine Trent [Reznor]'s day to be similar, except he probably spends a few more hours "hating life" and looking for his dick.
The April archives are fixed, or at least as fixed as they're gonna get. Took out the dumb auto-titles, fixed the line breaks, put the graphics back in. Recapture the magic.
Sometimes I'll just obsess over a blog entry and fiddle around until it stops bugging me. Usually with little visible result. That Matrix thing, I redid that stupid little graphic about 50 times. All for you, dear reader.
See? See what you get for putting things off? Michele didn't put things off. Michele listened to Jim.
Always listen to Jim.
Now give me some money (please).
I just closed the Cafe Press thing. Hell with it. Hardly anybody was buying anything, and Cafe Press was getting ready to start automatically billing me for stuff I don't want. Guess I should learn to read. Anyway, thanks to the 10-12 of you who bought stuff. I don't even know if I still get that $19.02, now that the shop is closed. Ah well. Worth a shot.
It took George Lucas 20 years to forget everything that made people love his movies. How did the Wachowski Brothers manage it in just 4?
God, what a mess. I couldn't wait for it to be over so I could give my eyes a rest from rolling every 15 seconds...
And I don't just mean the little nitpicky things. Like how this ragtag society has got it together enough to build a gigantic underground city and fantastic hovercraft and Matrix-sneaking-into technology and so on, but apparently they've forgotten the ancient human secrets of sewing and laundry detergent. Or how Neo can stop bullets in midair just by doing a "Talk to the hand," and yet he can't keep all them boots out his damn face. That's all carried over from the first movie, but it didn't really bug me then because of everything else that was going on. They kept things hopping. But this one just draaaags. Your mind wanders, and you start thinking about all the stupid stuff that they should be distracting you from thinking about.
I mean, why did they think anybody would care about a bunch of guys sitting at desks arguing about chain of command or whatever? They even had a fucking Meeting Of The High Council scene. You know, like every other Meeting Of The High Council scene that's ever brought a movie to a complete stop? Where a bunch of characters whose names you don't know argue about shit you don't care about? There should have been subtitles at the bottom, like:
THIS WILL BE SCENE 14 ON THE DVD...
BUT YOU CAN'T DO DICK ABOUT IT NOW...
KEEP MASHING THAT IMAGINARY SKIP BUTTON, LOSER...
HA HA HA
I don't even want to get into the Sweaty Cave Rave scene, or the Cyber-Cake That Gives the Cyber-Blonde a Cyber-Orgasm for Some Reason scene, or any of the several dozen Wheelchair Guy from the HBO Original Series OZ Talking to His Girlfriend Who I Think Is the Sister of the Two Brothers from the First Movie But I Am Neither Sure Nor Interested scenes...
And why did everybody act so surprised that Agent Smith could make copies of himself? He's a piece of software. Why wouldn't he be able to? Just right-click, dude. He can probably even rename them if he wants. Or they could just be Agent_Smith(1), Agent_Smith(2), etc. But anyway, don't they have file-sharing in the future? Or maybe that's the point, maybe the Wachowskis are sick of everybody downloading their movies for free, and that's their big "fuck you guys" gesture. Every time a Smith gets kicked in the teeth, it's a blow against Kazaa. Neo's like, "Whoa... I know copy-protection fu!"
Speaking of the totally insane special effects battles, they were okay, although you could always tell when it was all-CGI. Even with the realistic flapping cloaks and wrinkled clothing and facial mapping and whatnot, the CGI characters all had a sort of plastic look to them. Although the programmers did do a pretty good job of giving them weight and mass, unlike the CGI in stuff like Spider-Man and all the trailers for The Hulk. And I liked the deal toward the end where they recreated the Millennium Falcon escaping the Death Star II from The Empire Strikes Back, except with Ted "Theodore" Logan gone all goth and zooming around like Superman.
And in defense of Laurence "Larry" Fishburne and his extra poundage... Yeah, he's fat, but he was the only one who really made me feel it when he was doing the kung fu shit. He wasn't just going, "Punch, punch, punch, then dodge, then you kick me, then I jump," like you could see all the other actors thinking. He was into it. Even though you could tell the speeding semi he was jumping around on was fake, he made you believe that he was fighting for his life.
To avoid going out on a positive note, may I bitch about the ending? The incredible shock ending? "Oh no, look who's on the medical table next to Neo! It's that little creepy guy with the beard! Remember? Back like 2 hours ago? Agent Smith did the black-oil-taking-over-people's-bodies thingy, and then somehow he took over this guy's mind in the real world I guess, because the guy was totally cutting his own hand with a wicked knife and watching the blood flow and getting a stiffy because he's a crazy computer program in a human body, and, and check it out! Now that same guy is right there with Neo! I'm pretty sure it's him, at least, even though his face is upside-down in the very last freaking shot of the movie, and we only saw him for a total of 45 seconds before that, and what's his name, even? But whatever, there he is! Unconscious! With Agent Smith in his noggin! In the real world! Where he can't do gravity-defying kung fu or dodge bullets or take over the bodies of any nearby humans or make a zillion copies of himself or any of the other stuff that made him dangerous in the Matrix! Dude, how many microseconds till the sequel?!?"
Shoulda listened to Lileks.
Verdict: Two Pocket-Protector-Covered Thumbs Down
(Photo courtesy of Hoos)
Hey, when you guys link to me, could you link to jimtreacher.com and not www.jimtreacher.com? Y'all are diluting my Daypop and Blogdex rankings, and believe me when I say that's all I have at this point.
P.S. Mother says to say thank you for linking to me in the first place. Thank you for linking to me in the first place.
P.P.S. In case I haven't mentioned it in the last 5 minutes, Kevin Parrott rules.
30 days of posts on the main page, is that too much? I just figured, since some people weren't able to check out the old blog for so long.
It's weird to see all those old posts with the fancy new font. The font says, "This is meaningful information that you will feel proud to have read." But then you read it and it really isn't, and you don't.
Hey, the donation buttons made the move too, will you look at that. Don't they look handsome over there on the right side of your screen? Wouldn't this be a great time to donate if you've been meaning to? Dollar in the boot, friends. Dollar in the boot.
P.S. Just $5.98 to go until I see any money from the crappy merchandise!
...but this is ridiculous.
I was able to move the old blog over here on the first try (scroll down, baby), but I think I messed up because it has the titles in front of every entry that I don't want, and some of the line breaks are crazy, and the filenames of all the graphics are wrong and the computer machine doesn't know how to show the image that I want I want I WANT. Just spent way too much time fixing everything back to the beginning of May, and maybe I'll fix the rest eventually if I feel like it.
So here's a stumper: When you click on one of the dates on the calendar in the upper-right corner, how come only the first entry for that day shows up? That's pretty useless, isn't it? I bet I'm supposed to read the instructions, ain't I.
Oh, and is anybody having trouble opening the comments? If so, leave a comment. Ha ha.
I'm working on moving all my old Blogspot crap over here. This is all new territory for me, so just try to relax.
There, click on that and it'll pop up at the top and you can pretend everything is like it always was. I'll go fetch your blankie.
"This morning, I saw Adrock on my street. I believe he lives in the neighborhood. He walked around with both hands stuck in the back pockets of his saggy Dickies. Apparently he is taking a break from freeing Tibet."
Roses are red
Violets are pretty
Jayson Blair's poems
Are very very...
What rhymes with "pretty" and means "excruciatingly bad"? (Whatever it is, it don't involve Kitty.)
Update: Semi-literate-y! That's it. Thanks, Joanne!
As long as I've got the comments, chime in if you haven't been able to access my old blog lately. I know some people were having trouble, and it sounds like some people just couldn't open it at all. (Thank for trying, by the way!) I'm looking into moving my archives over here, but I know it's going to give me an ulcer. Worth the aggravation?
Well, it's bare-bones at this point, but at least you're reading this. Right? Posting something and having it show up in less than 7 minutes is actually giving me a half-wood. I think I'm going to miss those ugly flamey things, though.
Blogspot might suck, but ain't nobody safe. There was a fire at Hosting Matters, knocking out Instapundit and a bunch of other sites. I think it was caused by the friction from Reynolds posting 400 times a day...
So, this thing comes with comments. I'll leave them on for now, but the second somebody starts being a dick, comments go away. When I post in somebody's comments, I try to be useful and/or entertaining, or at least not completely hostile and retarded. If they choose not to have comments, I just e-mail them if I've got something to say, and I don't make a federal case of it. Okay? Okay.
Oh, crap, how could I forget! The biggest thanks I can give to Kevin Parrott for kicking me in the ass and helping me set this up. Help, hell, he did all of it. I was just like, "Anything I can do?" As tends to be the case, there was nothing I could do.
P.S. If you're using IE, is the right margin messed up? If so, do you know how to fix it?
In case you're curious, I've made $18.02 from the Cafe Press stuff. Just need another $6.98 to have enough for them to bother sending it to me. By the time I reach $25, maybe I'll use it to put a down payment on a walker.
I admit it. I'm jealous of Gawker. Holy crap, talk about a skyrocket. For a couple years Elizabeth had a blog called Capital Influx, where she talked about Christopher Hitchens a lot and had about 42 readers. I was one of them, and she cracked me up even though I don't really care one way or another about Hitchens. (Plus, she and I are both blog-kids of Layne, so that made me like her right off the bat, even though I guess brothers and sisters are supposed to fight, so forget that analogy.) Then she and Nick Denton came up with Gawker, which was a stroke of genius. Find the overlap between two of the most self-obsessed groups on earth -- bloggers and New Yorkers -- give 'em a daily dose of punchy, catty gossip and other fun stuff, and watch the hits roll in. At first I didn't really know what to make of it. I wanted to give it the benefit of the doubt, but I didn't really get it. Once I got used to the Gawker "voice," though, I was hooked. Along with everybody else. Now Elizabeth is everywhere, and she deserves every bit of it, and I'm jealous as all hell.
On the Capital Influx blogroll, she had a category called "Funny Shit" and I was the only one in it. Which is nice, but if I'm so fucking funny, why do I have 500 readers a day (and plummeting) and I'm eating leftover rice for breakfast? WHAT ABOUT MEEEEEEEEE?!?!?
Okay, now I feel better. Nothing like a spot of name-dropping and self-aggrandizing petulance to liven up the afternoon.
Speaking of marketing efforts, things will probably be slow around here until the new site is up and running. Blogspot can eat a landfill of dicks. For the handful of people who can get to this page on the first try, I'll post an announcement when it's time. Soon, my friends... soon...
I'm gonna go out on a limb and say Brotherhood of the Wolf is the best two-and-a-half-hour French-language pre-Enlightenment-era monster/political drama/karate movie featuring Monica Bellucci's boobs turning into snow-covered hills via CGI that I've ever seen.
And speaking of advice: I finally made the top 10!
More about Tim Blair, who has nothing to worry about from me as long as: a) My faith-based sexual orientation deprogramming holds, b) Those hormone treatments remain prohibitively expensive, and c) I never take another drink. Well, he's got a brand new home. I can't help but notice that Blogspot has been a big pile of shit lately, so congrats to Tim on digging his way out.
Thanks to the 9 of you who've bought stuff, and thanks again to everybody who's donated. I am currently researching new and more lucrative ways to blogstitute myself, but every little bit helps. Remember, tomorrow all the prices go up by one whole dollar, so get those orders in. If you feel like it.
Lileks talks about Enterprise and defends himself against people who like Buffy and yet somehow think fans of other shows are bigger geeks. Plus, some other interesting nerdy thoughts.
I did watch The Star Track the other night for the first time in a while, because I heard they were shaking things up with "ripped from the headlines" stuff. Earth gets attacked by Space Terrorists, the Quantum Leap guy has to go out and kick their ass Kirk-style, etc. And then I was going to write something really deep and meaningful about it. But after I came up with pretending to think the new bad guys are called not the Xindi but the Xlam (say it out loud), I had nothin'.
Although I do hope that just because the Spock chick is quitting the Vulcan Logic Police or whatever it is, I hope that doesn't mean she has to start wearing a bulky blue jumpsuit like everybody else. In fact, it should be that, that, you know, the sausage casing she wears is actually some sort of Vulcan badge of office or something? And it would be dishonorable to keep wearing it? But she can't put on the other uniform because she's not in Starfleet or whatever? So she has to pad around in an Enterprise bath towel. That might make me watch next year.
You know, "twee" isn't a word most Americans get to use all that often. Thanks for the excuse, Garry!
Update: Even better.
Truth or Consequences, N.M. star and suspected cadaver Vincent Gallo, to the meanies who've been impersonating him on his own message board:
...if I notice any polluted messages, which usually come from bitter, jealous, ugly, poorly-hung men, who are unhappy at work and wished their whole life to be like me, I will remove these unproductive nasty little posts and I would like to say to these twisted queers and half-men, I feel sorry for you. All I ever wanted to do was be me. I hope one day you feel the same about yourself and release yourself from the petty, small-minded urges of polluting this message board and distracting its wonderful members...Etc., etc. (Via the world-famous Gawker.)
Via fellow Blogspot survivor Tim Blair, I've been enjoying The dullest blog in the world. It reminds me a lot of Scott Dikkers' old comic strip Jim's Journal (no relation). Just chronicling the minutiae of a very boring guy's life. No punchlines, no drama, not much of anything at all. And yet gradually it starts to crack you up. A while back I considered starting a blog along those lines. You know, being even less interesting than usual, to the point where it became funny. But I wouldn't have done nearly as good a job of being stultifyingly dull as this guy. Which is a compliment. I think.
Also via Tim, here's a funny picture of an old dude trying to melt the ass off a wax statue of J. Lo with his hot grubby hands. Although she kind of looks more like a young Eartha Kitt, is that just me?
Tim's alright, you know. I don't always get what he's talking about, with all the stuff about Aussie politicians and TV shows nobody in the civilized world has ever heard of, but he's good with the zingers. Seems like most of the people who really hate him have no discernible sense of humor, so I think it's less of a left/right thing than a stick/no-stick-up-the-ass thing.
And if I was a woman or a homo or just really really blitzed, I'd probly do 'im. Fortunately for him, I am none of those things at the time of this writing.
I know there are probably some things you shouldn't joke about? But this super-cracks my shit up. If you're not hearing the music, switch to a browser where you can hear the music and turn down your speakers to a boss-safe level. Actually, you probably shouldn't go to this site if you're in an office setting. Look, do whatever you want, okay? Just save the hate mail for Dr. Sausage.
10. The little red-haired girl, whatever her name is, finally getting to kick a lot of ass. Not the biggest fan of the whole Slayer Hostel thing this year, but all those nameless "potentials" got their own back during that final battle.
9. Angel saying, "I'm not getting any older," right after we see his profile in close-up. Ouch!
8. The montage of the brand-new slayers all over the world, but especially the one who's about to get slapped around by her dad. She grabs his arm, slowly rises to her feet, and gives him a stare that says, "Not anymore, asshole." Chills, man. Chills.
6. Faith and Principal Wood bickering over who's prettier.
5. Anya: "I'm terrified! I didn't think... I mean, I just figured you'd be terrified and I'd be sarcastic about it."
4. Willow: "Ah! That was nifty."
3. Spike: "Oh, bollocks."
2. Who hasn't, from time to time, wanted to turn their hometown into an enormous crater? After everybody's been evacuated, of course. That's what I meant.
1. Basically every moment Buffy is onscreen. Which is the first time I could say that all season.
(What, you wanted smart-people talk? Here. Zacharek is too good for ZZZalon...)
I take it all back.
Sorry 'bout that,
Howard Stern declares blogs "boring." He does like Gawker, though, which he reads every day.
I like how they put it in boldface to remind you what a loser you are. Even after an Instalanche, a Blairalanche, a Michele-a-lanche (with boobage!), various other 'lanches... Hell, it even hit #50 on Blogdex for about 5 minutes. So it's not like nobody checked it out. The suckiness falls squarely on my shoulders. I guess it's only been a day, but not even one person? Damn. Well, at least maybe somebody got a laugh out of the product descriptions.
I just knocked a dollar off everything, if that affects your decision. Any cheaper and there's no point in even doing it. Or if you have any requests, let me know. Just keep in mind that most of the cartoon parodies and stuff like that would undoubtedly enter a whole different legal area if bux started changing hands.
Big thanks to Michele for her Jugs For Mugs program!
Okay, okay... I said okay! (Click Refresh if necessary.)
I really really like The Knife.
Update: Okay, I'm sober now. I guess they're still alright.
Here are some Treacher-related items for you to purchase. Be sure to read the solicitation copy, because I took a whole 5 minutes to write up the whole lot.
And then... CONSUME THOSE ITEMS!!!
P.S. Yes, yes, I know they suck. Their suckiness isn't really the issue, is it? Okay, well, maybe it is for you if you're putting your credit card number on the line. Well, I'm open to suggestions, all you geniuses.
Dr. Frank wants me to send a "Treacherlanche" to his new song, "Institutionalized Misogyny". It's more like a "Treacher snowball that I throw as hard as I can but you barely feel it against your foot when it just sort of plops there," but I'm glad to help. It's a country-rock-type song that I can imagine Jerry Garcia singing if he still had vocal cords and any sort of neural activity to control them, and it's got clever lyrics, and I'm flattered that the guy from the Mr. T Experience is bugging me for hits. Little does he know, huh, my 47 loyal readers?
We have to stop Joel Stein from writing for Entertainment Weekly. Right now.
Check out Welch's account of his recent Afflecktion on national TV. Not only is it a great story, but it turns out my former stalker Dawn Olsen inadvertently helped get him there! (And the pits weren't so bad, Matt. I've pitted myself out a lot worse just forcing myself to go to the grocery store EVERYBODY ALWAYS LOOKS AT ME STOP LOOKING AT ME, let alone going on TV in a light gray shirt. Hell, I would have turned that shit into a wet t-shirt contest if I'd been up there.)
And then at the opposite end of Outer Flyover, Elizabeth Spiers is profiled in Sunday's NY Times. That might have been more of a brag before Jaysongeddon, but still. Me? I had a pretty good sandwich the other day, so things could be worse. I mean, I may only get 1,000 visitors a day, but it's 1,000 totally kick-ass visitors. And a full 1.5% of you have even looked into your hearts and decided my disjointed scribblings are worth some of your money. So, you know, national exposure and a living wage, big deal!
I hear ya, Tony...
also how hard is it to conceive that if i was a decent writer who was capable of things like record reviews, political analyis, or even basic sentence structure, i would be getting paid for this shit as opposed to giving it all away like a fucking bitch.
Muah-ha-ha-ha... [Rubs hand against hook-hand fiendishly]
Matt Welch is appearing as Affleck #7 on the imaginatively titled Celebrity Look-Alike Show, tonight on the WB. As one cynic at the WB site puts it, "I doubt the show will get a lot of veiwers." Let's prove him or her wrong, blogosphere! My Friday night is uncharacteristically (ha ha) free, so I know I'll be veiwing.
Oh, and check out the trailer. Looks like that one guy really is Affleck. (Hey, did anybody else watch Push, Nevada? Did you not dislike it as much as I didn't dislike it? Did you figure out all the clues and call in for the final puzzle that took you 20 minutes to figure out, hoping to get that $1 million prize, only to find out later that the winner called in within the first 30 seconds or something? Oh well. That show almost cancelled out Daredevil, I thought. Almost.)
Bear witness, friends, as I slide inexorably into unrepentant whoredom. Sharp-eyed readers may have already noticed the BlogAds thingie on the left. All the other kids are doing it, so why shouldn't I pollute your "mindspace" with some good old-fashioned desperate hucksterism? This is different than regular advertising, of course, in that it could possibly help pay my light bill.
And then above that I put up a PayPal deal, for those of you who'd like to donate but think Jeff Bezos is the Devil. Or maybe you simply feel constrained by Amazon's bothersome $50 donation limit. Now you're free! I have freed you.
As always, thanks very much to everybody who's chipped in. And if you haven't yet, and you've ever read something here that gave you a chuckle or at least didn't fill you with disgust and stroke-inducing rage, maybe you could, you know...?
COME ON MAN JUST A COUPLE BUCKS
It's about time Instapundit got some attention, so I'm stepping up and throwing him some traffic. You know, a tornado hit his town and he's in a blackout, and yet he's still blogging. The man would find a way to blog on a desert island, for cheese's sake! Hey, remember that one episode where the Professor made Gilligan a functioning Blackberry out of palm bark and transistor radio parts and one of Ginger's compact cases? And Gilligan was like, "What's an infernet? SKIPPER!!!"
Also, you need to read this and think about it. It might seem scary or wrong, but just think about it. Doesn't it make sense? Can't you feel it?
Stereolabrat is hilarious. She's the one with the rant about trucker hats. The moment I read "Please eat a dick and a bullet," my eyes turned into big pink valentine hearts. And her whole journal is like that. She's like Vice magazine times infinity. Go now and be offended, bhortch.
P.S. Don't skip the comments.
Funny detail from that NY Times "We've got to protect our phony-baloney jobs, gentlemen" meeting yesterday, which they held in a movie theater:
Hundreds of employees showed up to hear what Raines and Co. had to say, queueing along W. 44th St. under a Loews marquee for the film "Identity."
Talk about a detail that seems too Jaysonesque to be true. The only way to make it any more perfect would be a double feature with "The Man Who Wasn't There."
The 2003-2004 Fall Schedule page at the WB site shows James Marsters as a cast member on Angel next season. Second billing, even! But Joss Whedon is saying, "We have made no decision about that — at all." So... which is it? (And then here's where I say something about how there's a lot at "stake," he'd better be "coffin" up an explanation or there could be "grave" consequences, etc. Give me my fucking check.)
Dear Everyone Who Sucks,
Please stop wearing those trucker hats. [Like this. -- JT] They make you look ugly. Ugly as in fat-on-the-inside ugly. You look retarded. The whole white trash hipster thing needs to die, just like you. Please eat a dick and a bullet. The reason why you are not finding "love" is because you are wearing that lame hat, you hipster dickwad. Also mullets = bad. Billy Ray Cyrus cut his off. Even he realized that it wasn't cool. Love, God
Jayson Blair started at the New York Times as a college intern and, despite a reputation for sloppiness, was repeatedly promoted, leading some critics to wonder if he was given special consideration due to his race. Particularly in light of the paper's recent slogan change from "All The News That's Fit to Print" to "We Hired a Black Guy."
My blogsister Elizabeth Spiers explains why she's let her old blog slide in order to work on something called... Mawker? Is that right? Grokster? Something like that. She also says nice things about me, which always makes me feel good about myself. For about 30 seconds after I read it, anyway, at which point reality begins to seep in again.
A brief excerpt from the Newsweek profile of a tanned, rested, and ready Stephen Glass:
In person, Glass is doughier than he was when he first became famous—and notorious. He says he hurt his back in the gym, and now gets most of his exercise walking his dog.Did anybody verify that he does in fact own a dog? Has he ever set foot in a gym?
Ever wonder what it would be like to win millions and millions of dollars? So does Kevin Parrott.
Speaking of music I'd like to hear on the radio instead of Nickelcreed, Filthy Scent, Knobsnack, and et cetera. Via Gawker, Claire Zulkey has a great interview with the guy from the Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players. I've heard a lot about them and listened to a couple of MP3s, but I guess you really need the visuals for the full experience. Can't believe I missed them on Conan, dang it. Anyway, the guy kind of reminds me of the fellow from American Movie, except maybe more together. Although how could he not be? A true American original, is what I'm trying to say.
I have been remiss in not linking to Ken Layne's song "Worried." I downloaded it like a week ago and then lost it amongst all the pr0n. But I've got it on repeat now, and there's a drum machine and a harmonica and an acoustic, and Layne sounds like Mick Jagger in the early stages of hypothermia, and the backup singer is I don't know what's going on there, and it's very catchy and I like it.
Now, the Layne song I really want to hear is "Monkey Cup." Welch mentioned that one a long time ago, and I've been curious about it ever since. Come on, Layne!
Hey, did you guys know that Layne was the first blog I ever read? He was like my gateway blog, so it's all his fault. Damn you, Layne. These could have been the best years of my life.
I feel really bad for those high school juniors in Chicago who got hazed by the seniors. Now that it's national news, there's no way they'll get to have their fun next year.
The good news is that they're finally going to put all the Indiana Jones movies on DVD. The bad news is that it sounds like Indy will be looking for "artifacts" inside his own adult undergarment before they come up with a script for the fourth movie. So here's my attempt to get things rolling. If Steven Spielberg or anybody reads this, feel free to use this scene as long as you give me a lot of money.
FADE IN: INT. CAVE OR SOMEPLACE
Indy is in a big room full of evil guys that are trying to kill him. He is a lot older than in the last movie because it is later in his life. He is with his faithful teenage sidekick Helga. She is totally hot. (Kristen Durst?)
INDYCheck this shit out.
Indy whips a ton of guys with his bullwhip. He is wailing on them hard and they die. Another one runs up to Indy and is really screaming like crazy. Indy makes a face and punches him in the face.
HELGAThat was pretty awesome. This is the '50s or early '60s!
Helga jumps way up in the air and kicks a bunch of bad guys with her fighting powers. She kicks maybe 20-30 bad guys.
HELGAI got sole!Suddenly all the bad guys run away. Indy smiles and wipes bad-guy blood off his bowtie. INDYDe-feet them! INDYI might be old, but I can still rock some ass!
Then we see that all the bad guys ran away because a super-huge bad guy (CGI?) just came up behind Indy. Indy is all like he doesn't know the guy is behind him. Helga is making "look behind you, idiot" motions but Indy's just like "What?" The huge guy grabs Indy and throws him all over the place.
INDYWhy didn't you tell me there was a guy?!?
Indy makes a face. Then he pulls himself together and kicks some ass. The giant monster-type guy dies!
INDYWhew! Now let's go get the treasure out of this cave or whatever!
They get the treasure and there is a lot more talking and punching and a big ending, this is just to give you an idea. Thank you.
So what did you do with your charity money, Jim? Which you won't actually be able to spend for another 2 weeks, looks like, but whatever. Well, I went and saw me a couple movies. Matinee, solo, natch. I used the Kitty's Mom Method, which is cool if you can get the movie times to line up. Saw X2 first, which I thought was actually kind of boring. It had its moments, mainly when Mystique was onscreen, and not just because she was nekkid. She really seemed to be the only one having fun with it. Her and Alan Cumming. I don't know, the whole thing just sort of... was. Didn't really get much of an emotional reaction from it one way or the other. Even Wolverine running around screaming and slicing dudes into franks & beans didn't really charge me up the way it used to in the old Claremont/Byrne comics. Maybe my revenge fantasies have become more subtle and sophisticated. Maybe I'm just getting old.
Then I snuck into Identity, which was pretty dumb but I liked it. Look out, Ebert! Anyway, I had some thoughts about it over on the Fametracker board, so check it out if you've already seen the movie.
Also, the latest LXG trailer is even worse than the first two, but it reminds me to post my joke I thought up: This movie's version of Dorian Gray is invulnerable, like I guess his portrait absorbs all physical damage in addition to any signs of aging, so they should have called it Bulletproof Hunk. Isn't that adorable? I should write headlines for Entertainment Weekly or something.
So that was a few bucks. Then I bought groceries. Then I came home and took a huge nap. Can you handle it? Try to keep up, bitches!
This is why I don't blog. Nothing for nine hours. At first, people might say well, he's busy. Then they'd think gosh, wonder what happened? Then they'd be angry: WHERE ARE THE UPDATES, you LAZY BASTICHE?
Very true. It used to crack me up when Instapundit would post something like, "Blogging will be light today." And then you'd scroll back up through the 25 other posts in the 12 hours since then. But apparently he gets concerned e-mails if he goes more than 20 minutes without posting something. So notes like that are just a form of pest control, really. Luckily, I'm not the victim of such unrealistic expectations, ha ha. Anyway, thanks to the folks who've donated. All ironic detachment aside, I really appreciate it.
Yo, little baby
You lookin' so fine
Let me put my tangent
All up in your cosine
Look people, if you are going to eat a bunch of Mexican food then you are basically just screwed. You're gonna blow up like a balloon and feel all disgusting, and you are going to hate yourself. Man, if some jerk-ass friend of yours has a dinner party and makes some cheesy "burrito bar," just play it cool. Eat a full meal before you go there, so that you aren't tempted by the hugely gassy foods. This way, you can tuck into a cold Bohemia or Negro Modelo and not worry about it reacting with your dinner, requirin' all kinds of suspicious private walks on the driveway.
(He's talking about farting!)
Also, new t-shirts good.
I have disregarded your wishes, dear readers. Now reward my insouciance with some of your hard-earned cash. You know, I waited until everybody stopped reading me before I begged for money. What a genius!