Just See How Far It Will Bend

I don’t know what happened there – that was, like, only the second major lapse I’ve had in posting this summer. Marc was right to admonish me for my laziness. Part of it is probably the fact that there is precious little happening.

Actually, that’s a lie. I made a major purchase on Tuesday, one of these suckers.  Cost me a thousand dollars after a memory card and the warranty, but now it’s here and it’s all for Homer.  It’s a helluva lot of fun, although, since I sit on my ass a lot of nights, it gets a bit tiresome trying to find things nearby that are interesting enough for me to shoot.  You can only shoot the inside of the refrigerator so many times.  Oh, and I’m practicing as much as I can with the manual focus, trying to get better with it (but the kit lens comes with that little focusing ring on the end, which feels a bit chintzy. Still, it’s good enough for my purposes).

I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t taken one or two naked pictures.  Good thing it’s a wide-angle lens!  Rimshot!

Oh my god…”rimshot” makes that joke sound even worse.  You guys know what I mean, right?  The ol’ Ba-dum-bum-PSSH! gag.

Maybe it’s a good thing that I left the blog alone for a while.

SPEAKING of blogs, and I think we are, my chances of writing for a politics and current events blog are finally getting a little stronger after months of wondering and waiting.  I’ll let you all know when it’s happening, but whatever “it” is, it’ll be taking place at www.filibustersoup.com (which doesn’t exist yet, so don’t get all clickey on me there, tiger).

I’m resisting the urge, mightily I might add, to start linking all over the place to the things I’ve been reading and watching lately.  I need to cut that out.  You’ll just have to make-do with old videos of skateboarder nutshots and dancing not-the-fathers.

To everyone who is still stopping by to read once in a while, I miss you.  And I take some solace in the fact that we’re all waiting with bated breath, collectively, for the release of The Dark Knight.  It’s like that scene from Beethoven II, where Beethoven is watching the moon from his cottage, and his dog girlfriend is watching it from her city perch, and they feel connected because, you know, it’s like they’re doing it together.  It’s kinda like that, you know?  Everything I know about romance I learned from the Beethoven movies.  Which is why Caitlin’s cheeks are frequently wet from slobbery kisses after we’ve…you know…

Rimshot!

Man, reality bites

The best “I’m Not The Father” dance, in the history of baby mama’s bein’ ICE cold.

 

Gamma Gamma HOY, Gamma HEY!

Ok, time to stop wallowing (hey, Firefox spellchecks everything for me? Cool!) in morbid thoughts surrounding the passing of fine television personalities. It’s time to get back to brass tacks, and that means talking about The Incredible Hulk movie that I just saw last night.

Marc got pissed at me for daring to cast aspersion upon Iron Man, which I saw, and was subsequently underwhelmed by. I’m not sure if Marc has had the chance to see TIH yet, but goddamn son, this one DELIVERED.

I know, I was as surprised by my pleasure at Hulk as I was by my disappointment in Iron Man.  Since the two are both brainchildren of Marvel, and were released with major stars right around the same time, I figured I’d do a loose comparison of the two films (heck, I’d do a loose anything).  I’ll try to keep from writing another weighty tome as far as a review goes, so here comes a bulleted list!

• I think I mentioned that Iron Man’s biggest downfall, to me at least, was the lack of any significant character development on the part of Tony Stark. One minute he’s a suave, charming, playboy millionaire war-profiteer, the next he’s a suave, charming, playboy millionaire superhero, out to right wrongs. I understand that that may be, historically, all there is to the character. And yeah, RD Jr. was hilarious and captivating and all that. But it left me feeling cold. Without an emotionally involved hero, I guess I found it harder to believe anything really big was at stake. And, dare I say it, part of the fun of having an alter-ego is that the egos are actually the obverse of each other. Not so with Hulk, on the other hand…
• When Bruce Banner (Ed Norton, and you know, it kinda works) is Bruce Banner, he’s mild mannered, sensitive, and mostly calm. When he’s the Hulk, he’s a big pissed off ball of testicle-tingling fury that can heave forklifts around like they’re made of Styrofoam. Advantage: Banner. The shift from hero to Hulk is deeply satisfying when it happens – that delayed pleasure that comes from waiting, just waiting, for the right thing to come along and whip Banner up in a righteous fury so he can lay a bitchslap on the bad guy. It’s not unlike achieving orgasm.
• That’s right, I said it.
• The visual effects were visually effective, moreso than the so-called Iron suit of Iron Man, which flips and folds and morphs and shape-shifts so much it looks like a kaleidoscope. I saw so many pieces fitting together in that suit, I expected it to fall apart in a stiff breeze, not reach the upper layers of the stratosphere. Banner’s transformation into the Hulk was, incredibly, almost believable. It was only really revealed in one near-climactic scene, and yeah, the gloss of CGI was still there, but overall it held my rapt attention and didn’t send me into “oh come on” mode.
• Plus, they actually had some stunningly beautiful scene of the Hulk in full-fight mode, none of this paintywaiste only-gonna-show-the-Hulk-in-quick-close-ups-and-spastic-cuts-sequences mentality. We get Hulk full frame, and STAYING in full from for quite some time, as he battles. The CGI is made believable, according to my good friend Sean Paul, by the lighting of each scene (they’re all either overcast, dimly lit, or at night. The textured shadows help to reduce the artificial smoothness of Hulk’s form and movements).
• The battles are super sweet. They got right what Iron Man and Transformers both got right as well: grace without complete weightlessness. When the Hulk rampages, even if he’s only computer generated, you can feel the ground shake and his muscles tighten in the same way Iron Man’s flight is haphazard, risky, and powerful. It feels real, and human. The punches look like they hurt a lot.
• There was a good deal of humour, in both films really. I won’t go into the specifics, but you’ll be smiling as often as watching with your mouth agape.

Overall, a fine ten dollars spent. The ending is a clear set-up for the eventual Avengers movie, and though I know less than nothing about that particular series, it promises to be a good’un, lest they miscast Captain America with this douchebag. My money is on a sweet Matt Damon. That guy is Captain America right down to the ground. If they pick some no-name like Brandon Routh or whatever his name was, they’re making a mistake of *snicker* heroic proportions.

God, I KILL me.

I can’t even look at it

http://thecaucus.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/06/13/russert-dies-of-apparent-heart-attack/index.html?hp

 

From on high

I don’t think I could say it any better than the blogger over at www.withleather.com, who rhapsodizes about the healing strength of the nutshot video.

This is a nut shot that can cure the grief of tragedies.  It can break stalemates in international politics.  It can heal the divides created by centuries of racism. I believe in the power of this video, America.

Well said, Ufford.

P.S.  When I say nut shot, I’m NOT referring to a Cubs Win! moment.  Although I might try to sneak one of those in on you someday.  Today is not that day, sadly.

(Video won’t embed properly, so clicka clicka)

http://view.break.com/516659 – Watch more free videos

Well, I guess it’s better than playing the lottery…

Marc, you’re getting some mad love here today.  Probably because I know that you hate going online with no new blog posts to read.

I thought you’d appreciate the educational value of this: A guide from Cracked.com to the 6 Most Innovative Whorehouses in the World.

Look at number one.  It probably doesn’t rival ComiCon for the title of nerdlinger Mecca, but I’d say it’s a close second.

P.s. Do you know what it’s like having to scroll through a Google Image Search for “comic porn” just to satisfy my strict every-post-gets-a-picture rule?  But I figure, if you ain’t got quality, what do ya got?  It’s all for you guys.

They’d probably abuse the health-care system too

Ok, so I’ve kind of balked on the idea of posting a huge tome in defence of conservativism as a reponse to Marc’s vitriolic blog post about the evils of Conservatives and their ilk.  I’ve chosen instead to study my facts and figures, and engage with my good friend Marc when I see him on Friday (you’re still coming right?).  Mano-a-mano, so to speak.  I still love you big guy.

BUT, but, I must post this as a small jab towards Marc’s assertion that Justin Trudeau will be Canada’s humble saviour in the coming years.  To wit, from Marc’s post:

The Trudeau kid (whom I guarantee will usher us into a new age) is too young to be a serious contender. - Excerpted from post entitled “World Wide Suicide”

This guy is who you’re banking Canada’s political future on?  I hope the taxpayer’s of tomorrow have deep enough pockets to support what I’m sure will be a burgeoning Canadian space program.

Honestly, the Canadian infatuation with the Trudeau family is second only to the inexplicable American fetishism that surrounds the dysfunctional Kennedy clan.  Young, ambitious, and naive seem to be the qualities that everyone wants in a political leader these days.  Give me the middle-aged, give me the cardboard personalities.  I trust the guy who isn’t out to make grand speeches; he keeps his head down and sticks to policy.  It’s boring and it’s dull, and yeah it’s a little uninspiring, but that’s politics man.  Governing should not be done by aspirations of inspiration; we should not be inspired by our politicians.  They should be inspired by us, the hard work that WE do every day to keep the country running, and THAT should be setting the agenda.  Let’s not forget who works for who here.

Ugh

Here is what has been running through my mind, way in the back, every time I log on to the Internet (a touch-and-go business lately, since my Internet signal is garbage):

I should be posting.

I should really be posting.

Do I have anything to post about?

Am I ready for that one idea I had a little while ago?  Am I in the mood to write that right now?

That was kind of a dumb idea anyway.  Let’s put it on the back-burner.

Did anything happen today?

Dammit, nothing happened today.  This is my summer – line trimming until 2 in the afternoon, then coming home to read blogs and not write my own.

I need to do more interesting things.

Should I watch that Joe Walsh video again that I posted a little while ago? (I watch it at least twice a week).

I’m hungry.

I’m going to organize a nation-wide manhunt for telemarketers and execute them en masse. Stop. Fucking. Calling. Me.

Beer?

Beer.

How does everyone else have stuff to blog about?

Three o’clock in the afternoon is too early for porn.

Or is it?

Yeah, it probably is.

This room is kind of disgusting.  But Dad has been bitching about how it stinks, so if I clean now it’ll just give him too much satisfaction.

Everybody else has stuff to post about.

Canadian politics are so boring.

American politics aren’t much better.  Let’s read some opinion columns instead.

I want to go watch Arrested Development, but I know I’ll get sick of that and then I’ll have already turned off my computer.

3:15, porn time. 

Maybe I’ll write a post about having nothing to post about.  Would anybody read that?