Sunday, September 20, 2009
Keep Her Off the Pole
As Chris Rock said, 'My only goal in life; is to keep my baby off the pole! If your daughter is a stripper, YOU FUCKED UP!' Sage-like advice from a funny man. I am a father now. And my daughter is beautiful.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
A Bastard's Law
There comes a time in a man's life when he realizes that all he really wants is a throne. A throne sculpted from an elephants skull.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
The Problem with Indiana... and other ramblings
First of all, hello. How are you? I'm fine, could complain about several things, but I'll choose one. I'll get to that in a moment, but first I wanted to set a few issues straight. One being that I'm not dead. Other bloggers I assume have told you of my legendary struggles against Larceny, Atrophy, Zealotry, Idiotism, Negligence, Erosion, Scandal and Suppression. Nevertheless, a good bastard knows to keep digging. Which brings me to the question...
What the hell happened to Indiana Jones? Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the movie, but there were problems. If you haven't seen the movie yet, then read no further. I'm going to get right into this. We open with a military convoy driving down a highway in the Nevada desert, it passes a sign that says, 'Atomic Cafe'. The convoy pulls up to a restricted military base and soldiers kill the guards. The soldiers are Russians disguised as American grunts. They continue on to the main base and out of the trunk of one car is Mac(Ray Winstone), running partner to Indiana Jones, who they pull out next. Here we are introduced to the supposed villain of the movie, Colonel Doktor Spalko (Blanchett). The usual dialogue follows with a strange addition, Spalko tries to read Indy's mind. He laughs and so do we. Later we find out that Spalko was the head scientist for psychic warfare that both superpowers were working on at the time. This interesting story point was dropped because apparently we won't buy it. Are we knee deep in a Cold War story? Alas, we are not. The Russians open up a hangar door with the number 51 posted on it with wooden crates inside. The audience knows exactly where we are and what is kept in those top secret boxes. Spalko assumes that Indiana has been here before and as it turns out he hasn't. After she tells him what they are looking for, however, he sure as hell knows how to find it. They locate the crate and as the Russians are awe-struck faces opening the crate, Indy and Mac take the opportunity to turn the tables. Spalko smiles and we see that Mac has trained his gun on our boy. He escapes, of course, and we are treated to Indy doing what he does best.
And then it fell apart from there.
Next scene, okay, but you have to ask yourself was it really necessary. The FBI shows up and tells our hero that he is under investigation for communist suspicion. Here we learn that Indiana has been busy since last we saw him. He was a Colonel in the OSS and is considered a patriot and hero. Doesn't matter, the bureau has him fired from his teaching job. Shocked and angry, he decides to leave the country to search for employment elsewhere because, we learn that there is nothing keeping him here (Mac's betrayal, and we learn that Papa Jones and Marcus are dead). Enter Mutt Williams(LaBeouf), who tells him that he is a ward of one of Indy's old friends and said friend has been missing for weeks. Oxley (John Hurt) has been chasing after an old legend from his and Indy's school days, the Crystal Skull. Indy believes it to be a myth, but after Mutt shows him evidence that Ox sent him and his mother, Marion, and is told that both are in trouble; the chase is on.
From here on, we learn that Mutt's mother is in fact Marion Ravenwood(Allen, who's character was gutted. She displayed none of her fearlessness and independence that made her great) and guess who Mutt really is. The Russians are never really a threat and Mac's reversals in the movie are unbelievable, as is Indy's trusting nature. Oh, and the skull is actually alien in truth and we are treated to the spectacle of a flying saucer in South America, with only Indy and Ox seeing it with 'Mulder eyes'.
Here is the problem with the movie. No spine and no subtlety. Again, I enjoyed the adventure, but Spielberg and Lucas used to be better with this material. The movie(subplot that is) should have been about a declining adventurer in a paranoid world, with no family and no other great treasures to discover. Think about it; Crusade was basically about a man reconnecting with his father. With a subtle subplot about Cold War paranoia, family, and the death of a golden age of pulp adventures; this would have been a better movie. I think the main issue here is the fact that Spielberg has used the same production people for years. Which don't get me wrong, these individuals are the top of their respective fields, but they and Spielberg don't change. Oh, they changed for Munich and AI (which can only be described as a beautiful mess between two conflicting styles), but for the tentpole movies its always the same product. Look at Eastwood; same people, different results. They CHANGE with the material in any given movie.
I don't know about the rest of you, but this movie could have used a few more years of work. And we would have waited because it was Indiana Jones. This wasn't.
Cheers,
that black bastard
What the hell happened to Indiana Jones? Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the movie, but there were problems. If you haven't seen the movie yet, then read no further. I'm going to get right into this. We open with a military convoy driving down a highway in the Nevada desert, it passes a sign that says, 'Atomic Cafe'. The convoy pulls up to a restricted military base and soldiers kill the guards. The soldiers are Russians disguised as American grunts. They continue on to the main base and out of the trunk of one car is Mac(Ray Winstone), running partner to Indiana Jones, who they pull out next. Here we are introduced to the supposed villain of the movie, Colonel Doktor Spalko (Blanchett). The usual dialogue follows with a strange addition, Spalko tries to read Indy's mind. He laughs and so do we. Later we find out that Spalko was the head scientist for psychic warfare that both superpowers were working on at the time. This interesting story point was dropped because apparently we won't buy it. Are we knee deep in a Cold War story? Alas, we are not. The Russians open up a hangar door with the number 51 posted on it with wooden crates inside. The audience knows exactly where we are and what is kept in those top secret boxes. Spalko assumes that Indiana has been here before and as it turns out he hasn't. After she tells him what they are looking for, however, he sure as hell knows how to find it. They locate the crate and as the Russians are awe-struck faces opening the crate, Indy and Mac take the opportunity to turn the tables. Spalko smiles and we see that Mac has trained his gun on our boy. He escapes, of course, and we are treated to Indy doing what he does best.
And then it fell apart from there.
Next scene, okay, but you have to ask yourself was it really necessary. The FBI shows up and tells our hero that he is under investigation for communist suspicion. Here we learn that Indiana has been busy since last we saw him. He was a Colonel in the OSS and is considered a patriot and hero. Doesn't matter, the bureau has him fired from his teaching job. Shocked and angry, he decides to leave the country to search for employment elsewhere because, we learn that there is nothing keeping him here (Mac's betrayal, and we learn that Papa Jones and Marcus are dead). Enter Mutt Williams(LaBeouf), who tells him that he is a ward of one of Indy's old friends and said friend has been missing for weeks. Oxley (John Hurt) has been chasing after an old legend from his and Indy's school days, the Crystal Skull. Indy believes it to be a myth, but after Mutt shows him evidence that Ox sent him and his mother, Marion, and is told that both are in trouble; the chase is on.
From here on, we learn that Mutt's mother is in fact Marion Ravenwood(Allen, who's character was gutted. She displayed none of her fearlessness and independence that made her great) and guess who Mutt really is. The Russians are never really a threat and Mac's reversals in the movie are unbelievable, as is Indy's trusting nature. Oh, and the skull is actually alien in truth and we are treated to the spectacle of a flying saucer in South America, with only Indy and Ox seeing it with 'Mulder eyes'.
Here is the problem with the movie. No spine and no subtlety. Again, I enjoyed the adventure, but Spielberg and Lucas used to be better with this material. The movie(subplot that is) should have been about a declining adventurer in a paranoid world, with no family and no other great treasures to discover. Think about it; Crusade was basically about a man reconnecting with his father. With a subtle subplot about Cold War paranoia, family, and the death of a golden age of pulp adventures; this would have been a better movie. I think the main issue here is the fact that Spielberg has used the same production people for years. Which don't get me wrong, these individuals are the top of their respective fields, but they and Spielberg don't change. Oh, they changed for Munich and AI (which can only be described as a beautiful mess between two conflicting styles), but for the tentpole movies its always the same product. Look at Eastwood; same people, different results. They CHANGE with the material in any given movie.
I don't know about the rest of you, but this movie could have used a few more years of work. And we would have waited because it was Indiana Jones. This wasn't.
Cheers,
that black bastard
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Promises', Promises'...
I'm going to stop making promises. Can't keep them. I always start out with the best intentions, but never quite follow through. So, no more promises. I'll post when I'm goddamn good and ready. And I swear, if I look in this blogs comments section and see the words.. 'the road to hell...', I will find out where you live and shave your pets bald, and then dress them as prostitutes. You've been warned.
Now. Just a few random thoughts...
What the hell happened to Seal?! First three albums were fantastic, I always got the sense that he was this tragically scarred Brit; singing in the back alley of some popular club that wouldn't admit him because his songs told too much truth and achingly beautiful vulnerability. Now? HE'S HAPPY! No more pain, longing, and existential questions. Now we all get to hear him talk about finding love and keeping it. There's far too many of those type of artists sir, I want MY Seal back.
A writer's stike in Hollywood. Pick up your sticks kids, it's time to assault studio executives and producers for more money. Finally, the time has come.
Britney's fight for her kids. Honestly, they'd be better off with a functioning alcoholic.
GOD, New England beat Indianapolis. We'll never hear the end of it from those east coast bastards.
Hillary's the front runner. How the hell did that happen? Don't get me wrong, she looks like she can handle any situation. Sopranos style.
Alright, that's it for now. I've got more memories from the real town without pity, but I wanted to get some things off my chest first. More of that later, though. Keep those streets safe people.
Later,
thatblackbastard
Now. Just a few random thoughts...
What the hell happened to Seal?! First three albums were fantastic, I always got the sense that he was this tragically scarred Brit; singing in the back alley of some popular club that wouldn't admit him because his songs told too much truth and achingly beautiful vulnerability. Now? HE'S HAPPY! No more pain, longing, and existential questions. Now we all get to hear him talk about finding love and keeping it. There's far too many of those type of artists sir, I want MY Seal back.
A writer's stike in Hollywood. Pick up your sticks kids, it's time to assault studio executives and producers for more money. Finally, the time has come.
Britney's fight for her kids. Honestly, they'd be better off with a functioning alcoholic.
GOD, New England beat Indianapolis. We'll never hear the end of it from those east coast bastards.
Hillary's the front runner. How the hell did that happen? Don't get me wrong, she looks like she can handle any situation. Sopranos style.
Alright, that's it for now. I've got more memories from the real town without pity, but I wanted to get some things off my chest first. More of that later, though. Keep those streets safe people.
Later,
thatblackbastard
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Des Moines, Part Three: Rocket Park
The beast minions had us surrounded. Everywhere we looked the snarling demons and their master, had closed in and were pounding on the outer hatch. Panic set in with my crew, instead of preparing for take-off, they had all started crying and yelling at the monsters. They answered back with snapping jaws and teeth, hungry for our flesh. The rocket began to rock as I made an attempt to start the engines. We all fell to the floor and the screaming came to a fever pitch. Suddenly, all of the sounds outside stopped, as did the rocking. A voice spoke from outside the hatch...
"My turn in the rocket, Cameron!"
"Self-destruct! Everybody down the escape slide!" I ordered.
"Whatever, punk." My brother said as we all evacuated the rocket, blasters in hand. Fighting our way through the hellish army, we looked back and saw my brother and his friends turning our rocket into a club. He yelled gambling and girls were now available at the top of the rocket. Everyone started running for the rocket. Maybe we can get off this planet on the merry-go-round, I thought.
Just another day at Rocket Park.
The actual name of the park is Union Park, but I always called it Rocket Park, because of the enormous rocket slide located at the entrance of the park. It had a long, loading ramp comprised of angled rope walls for climbing, mini-slides, and fenced in sides to prevent injury. However, it was the top of the ramp that was the real draw for all of us. The rocket. I loved that rocket. It was huge and had a blue and yellow top that everyone could see from anywhere in the park. The sides had iron bars and the sprial slide was made of steel, both were scorching hot during the summer. No one cared about that because the burns were a bagde of honor that we could play through pain. For a little while I could escape what awaited us at home and have fun. And pretend.
How many times did I save the Earth? How many times did I save the damsel in distress from the alien hordes led by my brother? How many planets did I explore?
Never enough.
The rocket wasn't the only draw. There was the food. Everyone went to Union Park to grill, meet family and friends, talk and laugh, play loud music and let their children play. It was wonderful, and I will cherish these memories for the rest of my life, as this was one of the few places you could escape the beast outside the park grounds.
I talked to my Mom about this, because I seem to recall having sack lunches there. She told me what I was remembering was the Des Moines Parks and Recreation Department setting up a daycare service at various parks that parents could use on certain days of the month; and they had sack lunches. Bologna sandwiches, a fruit, and a drink. Ice cream, on occasion. To this day, that service is still provided and it brings a grin to my face knowing that another child has this to look forward to. Mom would drop Joe and I off at Union when she had business to deal with. I don't want to know, but I can guess what said business was.
My niece and nephews tell me the rocket is still there in all its glory. Although, they never went to any planets while playing on it. I tell them that they were not playing and shake my head.
And this is a good memory of the town.
Later,
thablackbastard
"My turn in the rocket, Cameron!"
"Self-destruct! Everybody down the escape slide!" I ordered.
"Whatever, punk." My brother said as we all evacuated the rocket, blasters in hand. Fighting our way through the hellish army, we looked back and saw my brother and his friends turning our rocket into a club. He yelled gambling and girls were now available at the top of the rocket. Everyone started running for the rocket. Maybe we can get off this planet on the merry-go-round, I thought.
Just another day at Rocket Park.
The actual name of the park is Union Park, but I always called it Rocket Park, because of the enormous rocket slide located at the entrance of the park. It had a long, loading ramp comprised of angled rope walls for climbing, mini-slides, and fenced in sides to prevent injury. However, it was the top of the ramp that was the real draw for all of us. The rocket. I loved that rocket. It was huge and had a blue and yellow top that everyone could see from anywhere in the park. The sides had iron bars and the sprial slide was made of steel, both were scorching hot during the summer. No one cared about that because the burns were a bagde of honor that we could play through pain. For a little while I could escape what awaited us at home and have fun. And pretend.
How many times did I save the Earth? How many times did I save the damsel in distress from the alien hordes led by my brother? How many planets did I explore?
Never enough.
The rocket wasn't the only draw. There was the food. Everyone went to Union Park to grill, meet family and friends, talk and laugh, play loud music and let their children play. It was wonderful, and I will cherish these memories for the rest of my life, as this was one of the few places you could escape the beast outside the park grounds.
I talked to my Mom about this, because I seem to recall having sack lunches there. She told me what I was remembering was the Des Moines Parks and Recreation Department setting up a daycare service at various parks that parents could use on certain days of the month; and they had sack lunches. Bologna sandwiches, a fruit, and a drink. Ice cream, on occasion. To this day, that service is still provided and it brings a grin to my face knowing that another child has this to look forward to. Mom would drop Joe and I off at Union when she had business to deal with. I don't want to know, but I can guess what said business was.
My niece and nephews tell me the rocket is still there in all its glory. Although, they never went to any planets while playing on it. I tell them that they were not playing and shake my head.
And this is a good memory of the town.
Later,
thablackbastard
Saturday, August 4, 2007
In Which We Discover That You Can Keep A Good Bastard Down
Life has a way of beating us down. When we least expect it, we're walking along, minding our own business and life comes running up from behind and takes a steel pipe to our knees. Shouting as it runs away, 'Kerrigan Bitch!'
Anyway, that's how I feel.
It's been a lousy month and the lousiness continues. Work sucks (my boss gave me the strangest stare yesterday, it can only be described as 'After I've hidden the body, what will I tell everyone?'), home life not going good (my girlfriend apparently thinks gnats are great pets and her son wants to gut me in my "sleep"), and as for my family; well I don't call them because I can only take so much. When I snap I'm going to start with the loud teenagers standing in groups outside the front of Quik Trips, blocking my enterance to buy my cancer. I'm not joking.
So that's why I haven't been here in a while and why you may notice that I've received a fresh batch of sarcasm, with a hint of scorn. Let's list the good shall we?
Tranformers: bad
The Simpsons: great
Crooked Little Vein: Fantastic
After Dark: good, not Murakami's best short work
Comics: good
Smart Ones Dinners: good
Smoking: the only thing keeping several "people" alive
That's pretty much it. Before I forget, I need someone to help me with the pictures I promised you. I pressed all the right buttons to put pictures along with a post I had, but the last button I touched made the screen go black and words in some strange font I had never seen before popped up making out this sentence, 'Feed me your blood, meatsack.' Then my hardrive started to breath, sticking out its CD tray that saliva started dripping from and the whole thing pulsed as if it was a reject from an old Cronenberg film. Yeah, I know. Cool.
Later,
thatblackbastard
Anyway, that's how I feel.
It's been a lousy month and the lousiness continues. Work sucks (my boss gave me the strangest stare yesterday, it can only be described as 'After I've hidden the body, what will I tell everyone?'), home life not going good (my girlfriend apparently thinks gnats are great pets and her son wants to gut me in my "sleep"), and as for my family; well I don't call them because I can only take so much. When I snap I'm going to start with the loud teenagers standing in groups outside the front of Quik Trips, blocking my enterance to buy my cancer. I'm not joking.
So that's why I haven't been here in a while and why you may notice that I've received a fresh batch of sarcasm, with a hint of scorn. Let's list the good shall we?
Tranformers: bad
The Simpsons: great
Crooked Little Vein: Fantastic
After Dark: good, not Murakami's best short work
Comics: good
Smart Ones Dinners: good
Smoking: the only thing keeping several "people" alive
That's pretty much it. Before I forget, I need someone to help me with the pictures I promised you. I pressed all the right buttons to put pictures along with a post I had, but the last button I touched made the screen go black and words in some strange font I had never seen before popped up making out this sentence, 'Feed me your blood, meatsack.' Then my hardrive started to breath, sticking out its CD tray that saliva started dripping from and the whole thing pulsed as if it was a reject from an old Cronenberg film. Yeah, I know. Cool.
Later,
thatblackbastard
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