Future consumer...

...

people look right through her...

Deja View

sometimes, it stares back

Welcome to the rest of your life...

Sweet...?

Okay, there is a Margaret Cho joke in here somewhere, I know it. If you haven't seen her act...shame on you.

Actually, I have one...can you say TRADEshow....ugh...back in a week.

Hold your head up.

I know what they are singing. Do you?

I always seem to start reading a good comic book when it is too damn late. Vertigo's The Losers ended its run in March of 2006. Too bad, too. Andy Diggle penned some pretty horrifying things:
What we call history is merely the chaotic turmoil of phase transition as societies shed outmoded models of centralized control and dynastic hierarchy in favor of free market capitalist democracy....

In other words--everybody wants to be American. Some people just don't know it yet.

Within the next two hundred years, every nation on the planet will have embraced this American model. It is as natural--and is as inevitable as evolution. Except we don't have two hundred years. The planet is dying. Global environmental melt-down is just around the corner. The next World War will not be fought for ideology, or strategic superiority, but for food and water. For survival.

Sometimes nature needs a helping hand. I am that hand. And this....

This is the end of history. --Max (not so nice guy)

The Losers, Issue 26--Unamerica, part 1

If you don't play World of Warcraft, very little of this will make sense to you. Even if you do play WoW, you might just not get it. If, on the other hand, you play a druid, well....then just sit back and enjoy.

How did Sharon Stone achieve such diva (pronounced bitch) status? Her only successful starring role has been at Mr. Skin. Now there is a sequel to Beaver Shot 101, and I just can't wait (pronounced sarcasm). Then again, Ms. Stone has added her voice talent's to such works as Harold and the Purple Crayon, so perhaps her Hollywood star is still on the rise.

Kashmir -Surfing the Warm Industry

Fun stuff.
The Comeback

Please Please Please

Very Loud

Let's just pray that never happens.

Ye goode olde days.

Wazzup Bloggerites?

Hoist a few for me. Yes, it is true. I am taking a day off from drinking scotch, and what, I ask you, could be a better replacement? Here's to kissing rocks and kidnapping wee folk for their gold. Oh, and here's to me and one stellar hangover. The partying begins at midnight and goes all through the day, hipflask topped off, breath mints in the breast pocket. I and other Americans defiling yet another holy day. So cheers! Truly.

Well, it finally happened. If it didn't happen here, it would have happened somewhere else. It has certainly happened often enough before. You see, in a previous life, same body, just previous life, I was a critic. Not a big, rotund Ebert like critic, and not a just-running-around-pointing-out stuff critic. I actually went to school to learn the "art" of criticism. More accurately, I honed my abilities to critique a work of art, place it in its cultural perspective, or merely comment on its "value." Most of what I chose to examine in this fashion fell into the literary categories of novels and short fiction. However, from time to time, a poet would come along that I was particularly interested in and I would spend time examining his or her greater works. If I was incredibly lucky, I might even get to meet this person face-to-face. James Welch, author of Winter In the Blood, comes quickly to mind. Now, the tricky part. Some daring individuals will find out that you are a professional critic, and yes, I do carry a union card. Once the greasepaint of everday existence is removed, and your secret identity exposed, they come with notebook in hand and say, "Please read my poems, and tell me what you think." Rarely, and I do mean RARELY, do they want the honest opinion. Most often they are looking for some stamp of approval to justify the paper and ink wasted on their dark meanderings through despair, loneliness, adulterous forays, and just about any other cliche laden crap they could muster. But it happens, and I accept, and I tell them, if I even remotely like the work, I will comment on it, and I will be brutally honest, I will tell you where you go astray, and I will tell you what you need to do to fix it. Like BASF, the chemical company, I don't make the products you use, I just make them better. If I don't like the work, and to be honest, I generally don't, I will merely thank the person, and leave them with the comment that the poems/short stories/novels were "nice." Suffice it to say, the Klown has been found out, and I received a "nice" collection of "poems" today. 

Normally I don't like to point out if someone is a complete waste of air, but Michael Medved has got to be one of the poorest uses of carbon, oxygen, nitrogen, and argon (yes, we all have a wee bit in us) since I got booted from freshmen chemistry for trying to create life myself. Whilst channel surfing, I happened upon a Medved interview wherein he was able to rail against liberal Hollywood and listen to him bash Brokeback Mountain, Crash, Capote, and Transamerica. Oddly enough, he seemed to think that Chronicles of Narnia was a fabulous piece of art, and managed to drub Wizard of Oz (as a center of gayness)....Oh poor, poor Mr Medved, how difficult it must be to live in such a sullied world as this. Though you may never win any major awards (as most of the movies, directors, and actors that you bashed did) at least you can lay claim to the first annual, post-Oscar, Squish the Klown STFU award. Now please go away. 

Okay, I will be the first to admit (as though someone could admit for me) that I do a pretty piss poor job of keeping this thing up to date, but I am so durn busy! Well that is not exactly true, I do have waaay to much free time. So much, in fact, that I spend most of it playing video games. Sadly, I have purchased more games than I could play in a lifetime, but isn't that what being an American is all about? Well, recently I was able to combine two addictions into one, and bought Hulk: Ultimate Destruction for the Ol' XBox, and I have to say that it is quite fitting that the little XBox light that mocks me from time to time glows gamma green. Feel the rage! Hulk SMASH, and very little else, but who cares! All in all, not a bad game and was rated as the best comic book game of the year, but look at the competition: Fantastic Four (the game based on the movie)....ugh! The best comic book game(S) of all time have to be the Spiderman 1 and 2 that I snagged for the PS2....deep and engrossing and all those other fancy ass words that reviewers use to get you to buy shhtuff. Hulk:Ultimate Destruction was so good, that it prompted me to hunt down a comic book store in my new "home town" and get those box subscriptions going again. So, I now have about 2 dozen titles that will be arriving semi-regularly and taking up more of my free time. That combined with trying to kick my NyQuil addiction means more irregularity than anyone really cares to read about.