Mah Pokemanz Let Me Rate U Demz.

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Spite

Yeah...I don't have an idea for an article. I've had monsterous writers block and frankly, if I manage to mitigate that situation, I'm not going to waste the veritable orgasm of creativity that would deluge from my mind on this blog. Sorry. But I saw that Brett updated, and it was like a slap in the face. So I'm writing this. To bump him. OUT OF SPITE



























This is Spite incarnate. FYI

Hey Patrick! I'm in your post! ADMIN BIATCH.
Spite that. - Brett

Cinematic Hell.

As I am currently enrolled in film school I thought that I would share my thoughts on the things that are close to my heart (And occasionally my pants when I'm in the mood) and that would be movies. Movies are windows to alternate realms of reality offering escape from the horrible pressures of the real world.... I'M NOT LONELY.... Anyway, as I sit here looking at Fandango's list of movies playing I am shocked, disturbed, aroused and angry. So I thought I'd go down the list and give you my impressions of each. Some of these may be based on seeing the movie and others may be based on preconceived notions that will not change. Lets start with the ones I have seen.
Semi-Pro: Semi-Pro follows Will Ferrell as Jackie Moon, a music star (with only one hit) who now owns, plays and coaches the Florida Tropics, a basket ball team looking to get into an NBA merger. Simple... and ineffective. Honestly I didn't start this up expecting something more than a movie carried by Will Ferrell acting like an idiot and that's what I got. The worst part of this is I know Ferrell can do better. After seeing Stranger Than Fiction, that set his bar. Seriously, I know the Thickies are a huge audience with lots of disposable income, waltzing into theaters with pockets lined full of their parents cash and a dime bag of the puff, but can we just stop this? Kicking and Screaming, Blades of Glory, Talladega Nights and Semi-Pro, what's next? A movie about idiots playing football? Oh wait some one beat them to it.


Next on the chop block.

Another movie following a trend. This trend? Film adaptations of novels. Here's the catch, this hasn't been a novel since... EVER. This is a Seuss book, which worked for How the Grinch Stole Christmas, but trying to ride the wave of a movie that was popular a few years ago is a risk. Now I could sit here and berate this movie for being nothing but a kids movie but I'll start out with honesty, it kept me watching through the whole thing and the parody of the anime genre had me laughing to myself. Now for the bad. The plot is easy to follow but the message just isn't clear enough, is it about sticking by your friends? Expressing yourself? Being a good listener? Or never listen to what Carol Burnett says? The movie ends on a happy note but you don't feel like you learned anything concrete. Secondly, everything is so bright and sugary I got Type Two Diabetes from trying to focus on the fuzzy inhabitants of Nuul... seriously I'm gonna die... BUT NOT EVEN DEATH CAN STOP MY SPITE. Honestly, I know you tried to capture the colorful world of Seuss but I needed sunglasses to watch this thing.

Oh Jumper, I admit you had me intrigued with your Nightcrawler-esque promises but just like you were a 40 year old man eyeing me from across the dance floor as I bump and grind to Daft Punk, you just left me blacked out, hurt and ashamed at our hour and a half together.
Jumper is based on a novel of the same name (Jesus zombie Christ again?) and of course will appeal to the younger, energy drink pounding Halo junkies who beat off to Roadhouse when no one is home. Why such manly analogies? Well it just doesn't appeal to me... and I'm a nerd... So this movie can't be for nerds, it's not a romance, and it's certainly not a comedy so it must be an action movie. The reason I know this is because many of the people I know who are still in highschool practically screeched into my ear to see this movie, and after finally mentally breaking down and weeping for a good twenty minutes I did just that. Now every day I look back and say to myself "I wonder what would happen if I hadn't gone... maybe I could have cured cancer in that time... or solved world hunger..." But no, I did it and I can't undo it (yet). Not even Samuel L. Jackson could save this movie from the depths of the sea of soft science this is drowning in. Of course my "friends" try to defend it and say "Well what about the ending fight? That was worht seeing the movie!" No! First if your movie is so great you shouldn't be defending it! Quod Erat Demonstratum, an ending fight which lacked in serious special effects does not a movie make!

Check back soon for a list of movies I am looking forward to and how they will probably slap me in the face for even having the slightest glimmer of hope in my heart.

The Grilled Cheese Paradox

Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, I learn something in college.

So I will take the advantage of sharing this knowledge with our (imaginary?) readers.


This is the Grilled Cheese Paradox.

On the scale of legitimate sandwiches, grilled cheese comes right above the "retard sandwich" (cheese and bread) and below any other legitimate sandwich.
If you don't know the normal recipe for homemade grilled cheese, it is as follows:
Cheese, Bread, Fire, and Love.



However, as I have observed, college grilled cheese tastes so much better than homemade grilled cheese! I went to seek out the answer, and what I came up with is terrifying. The secret to making a good grilled cheese sandwich is to eliminate that variable of love!

That's right! The reason that sandwiches that your mom makes don't taste as good as college sandwiches is that she loves you.


Of course, if we reverse this equation, and you find that college grilled cheese is less delicious, then your lunch lady loves you more than your mother.
In any case, it's not a good thing.
Be worried.

So, in conclusion, if you want to make a good grilled cheese sandwich, make it with someone you absolutely can't stand in mind.

That's right,
~THE Woody


P.S. Brett, ahead of time, thanks for making my grilled cheese sandwiches so much better.

Ownage

Anything is possible as long as you believe.
Especially if the Buster Sword and the Soul Edge are involved.

Attentamente,
~The Lord of MS Paint

P.S. That is RoboHitler, a Nazgul, and Osama bin Laden with Rambo's body.

POEMZ

Hmmm...looks like no one's updated in a while. Well I'm a busy man (i.e. Lonely) so I don't have the time to come up with anything for you all. I'm a little preoccupied with getting my head shaved for a Cancer Research Charity on the 14th....so I'll just post a random ass poem I had to write for a "creative expression" class a few months ago.

Deep Thoughts

Class is ready

Great big room stuffed to gills with bodies

The lecture has begun.

We’re talking about human interaction,

But my mind is long gone.

I try to focus,

but there’s really no point.

My mind begins to ramble.

What was the name of that one poet from the Fifties?

Allen something.

His last name starts with a ‘G’.

Greenspan?

No, he’s got something to do with economics,

what am I thinking?

Great.

That’s going to bug me all day.

Lecture’s still going on,

I’m not catching a word of it.

There’s a guy a few seats down from me

He has a vacant look in his eyes

He’s playing solitaire on his laptop

Good work buddy.

This sure is a big room.

And it’s packed.

Why are we here?

Are we trapped?

That must be it, we’re trapped

Trapped in the stomach of a Great Beast

Have we ventured too far?

Gotten in over our heads?

Maybe we need Queequeg to come help us.

Wow, that was a little too intellectual

I think I should dumb these thoughts down a tad

This is a class after all

And what’s better to dumb thoughts down than television?

Let’s see…what was I watching earlier?

Oh yeah, they had Jeopardy on in the cafeteria…

Does anybody still watch Jeopardy?

I don’t care too much for Alex Trebek,

too smug.

I prefer Will Ferrell.

I should probably at least try to pay attention

But I don’t think it would make a difference

My mind wanders far too ea – GINSBERG!

It was Allen Ginsberg!

That’s better.

Why’d that take me so long?

Everyone’s getting up…

Guess class is over.

That was productive.

I think it’s nap time.

I SEE YOUR THOUGHTS

Chariot of the Damned.

Now, before I begin I would just like to say that Chariot of the Damned would be an awesome name for a metal band. Glorious metal names aside, I'm going to touch on several subjects that infuriate me today but they all relate back to one thing. What is this dastardly mechanism that continues to drive me further and further down the path of mental collapse and subsequent genocide like an enemy portal in Gauntlet, spawning irritants endlessly? I am talking of course of: Buses.

You may have seen these mechanized beasts, lumbering along the roads, carting around the unwashed masses, but many of you have most likely seen the inside of a bus aside from the yellow school variety. Recently as a film school student with no car I have been taking the bus to my classes. On the first day I exited my home and instantly cursed the world and all of it's inhabitants as the cold air shot through me like the round of a skilled sniper, freezing my testicles into orbs of solid ice, which shattered when I began to walk and they bumped against my leg. With a sack full of shards in my pants and a chip on my shoulder I boarded the bus and stared awkwardly at the horrible master of the giant vehicle while I shoveled a handful of quarters into the proper place and requested a transfer ticket in a pleasant cockney accent. With a dejected grunt the man/woman/thing handed me my ticket and I took my seat. As I sat on the shaking seat, trying to make my peace with whatever god I could think of every time it made a turn I watched the other passengers board the bus. Pretty soon I found myself in the presence of Ed Asner and Sasquatch himself, I inquired Sasquatch if he could spare an autograph to which he replied "Go take a seat on an industrial drill". Which was quite shocking because I wasn't aware that Sasquatch was fluent in English, let alone did he have a biting New York accent, but what he did confirm is that Sasquatch is a very tall beast. This brings me to my first irritant. Tall people.

Tall people have no respect. Now this is of course a generalization, but this is my blog, with my opinions so you the reader will believe what ever I say. As I was saying, tall people have no respect. They stomp around with their giant feet crushing the townsfolk and smashing buildings with their horrible fists. No one knows why they do this. Scientists at the OHAO Institute for Scientifical Science think it's because they are just assholes. There is no other place however that tall people are the bane of society then at the movies. Tall people seem to be unaware of their own height and thus don't seem to understand what they are doing wrong when they set down right in front of another person in a movie theater. This is a situation that many of us Dawrven folk find ourselves in almost every time we go to the movies. TALL PEOPLE, SIT IN THE BACK WHERE YOUR GIANT HEADS DO NOT OBSTRUCT THE VIEW OF THE OTHER PATRONS. This also seems to happen in my Development of Film Expression class, which irks me because you'd think in a film school there would be some movie etiquette, but no, still my perfect seat is sullied by a thick necked man-mountain taking up half the frame.

As Sasquatch exited the bus, another one of my irritants took his place. An old person.


The bus came to a stop and hissed as it lowered itself so that the new passenger could get on easier. The first thing that made its way onto the bus was a long cane, pulling along behind it a wrinkled shell of a man who practically reeked of the smell of Death's looming shadow. I removed my feet from the seat in front of me which was clearly marked for the elderly or the handicapped but that seat wasn't good enough for the ancient bastard. The man instead sat down on the same seat as myself. Now as you have come to notice, I am a bit of a misanthrope. I dislike the general public because I find them disgusting idiots, not worth the junk I find in the bottom of my boots. So sitting next to me is not something I enjoy. I may be wrong (which Woody and Patrick will be the first to point out) but I'm sure that personal space existed back in the 1930s. The unseen bubble that keeps us at acceptable distances from each other and me away from the people I hate. Namely, old people. I loathe old people. They are generally useless, everything they loved is either dead or obsolete, and you could break them in half as easy as you can stomp Smurfs with golf shoes. I would be much happier if we took that route imagined by visionaries Matt Groening and David X. Cohen. A world where the old past a certain age are sent to an entirely different planet, away from us young folk. Of course this is not with out it's exceptions. Only the useful old people would be able to stay with society. Old men like Keith Richards, who must be at least 400 years old by now.

So, my final point is this.... Hmm... I don't think I have a clever final point... I just really fucking hate old people and tall people.... Also, in an homage to Ash Williams I have named my penis "My Boomstick". Hail to the king baby.