Damn, I already used the "Jellyfish" song

Aw, hell, I'll use it again anyway:

Jellyfish, along you came,
and right away I'm stung.
Sweet words I long to whisper,
But you've paralyzed my tounge.

There are a number of things that I will openly admit to being afraid of (various types of dolls and puppets, heights, shellfish). Now it's time to add Jellyfish to that list.

Growing up in the midwest, the major body of water I've been exposed to is Lake Michigan. Sure, it gets extra seaweed-y in the summer and sometimes there's a smell coming off of it that forces me to shut all my windows, but for the most part is free of terrifying water life. There may be lampreys. Scary, bloodsucking lampreys. But no jellyfish and as such, I never developed a proper fear of them.

Those days are over thanks to a recent post at WTF_Nature. Giant refrigerator-sized jellyfish. If those four words don't terrify you, perhaps the notion of huge colonies of regular-sized jellyfish will do it.

I'm all for letting jellyfish live their squishy stingy invertebrate lives, but this is just... ick.

I highly recommend checking out the giant jellyfish pictures linked in the comments section, and for even more terrifying jellyfish action check out the National Science Foundation's "Jellyfish Gone Wild" page.

Bwah ha ha haha!

Hee hee hee.

Someone on the makeup talkin' message board I read just posted a link to this. It just made my day.

Mostly Martha

I've long admired Martha Stewart. For years, I watched her make cranberry centerpieces, bake with Jacques Torres, put together wedding invitations, and do a whole bunch of other crap that I would never want to spend time doing.

Then Martha went to jail and, with no new shows being produced, I lost track of her. Sure, once she got out she had a brand new show where she'd cook or do crafts with celebrities, but it wasn't the same. I didn't want to watch Martha engaging in awkward banter with some media whore out to pimp their new book/movie/album. Or did I?

One of the things that has always endeared Martha to me is her willingness to go on Late Night with Conan O'Brien. She somehow managed to maintain her inherent Martha-ness while completely going along with the insanity. If I recall correctly, her first appearance had her eating Taco Bell and sipping a 40oz. malt liquor.

When she returned the favour, and had Conan on her old show, the results were no less hillarious:



Still, I never believed that would translate over to other (non-food/craft/domestic bullshit-related) guests. Until the internets led me to this segment from her current show:



Martha and Snoop: Together at last.

Awkward? Of course, but it's still funny enough for me to spend my afternoon checking out other clips from her show.

Clips can also be found on Martha's Blog.

Remember Sammy Jankis

If you ever take a class that covers memory and forms of amnesia, you will learn about H.M. At age 27 he underwent a resectioning of the medial temporal lobes of his brain as a treatment for epilepsy, which left him an anterograde amnesiac. He has since been the subject of much study, and has provided us with tremendous insight into the inner workings of the brain.

H.M., actual name, Henry Molaison, passed on yesterday. For all that he gave us, I hope the 70-odd years following his injury were happy ones.

If you haven't heard about this fascinating case, take some time to read up on it and give Memento a rewatch.

Found via Metafilter.

Thanksgiving survived

I fucking hate the "holiday season". This should be of no surprise to anyone who knows me even casually.

I find Thanksgiving especially loathesome, because in addition to the lack of gifts, there was always the mandatory church-going followed by the long-ass trip to my uncle's house for dinner. Sure, there's the meal, but at some point grandma always had to make sure that we were aware of her mortality and declare how happy she was that we could all be here for one more year while weeping.

For a while, The Iron Giant was the best part of Thanksgiving. Hell, it was the only good part of Thanksgiving. Cartoon Network would air it all day long in a continuous loop. You could catch part of it in the morning, another segment after church, and watch the whole thing in it's last airing of the night when you got home from your awkward dinner. It was the soothing medicated balm that calmed all the irritations of the day. You could pour yourself the first super-boozy eggnog of the season and be swept away by the film's unending charm.

Don't get me wrong, I had my doubts: Jennifer fucking Aniston, Vin goddamn Diesel, Harry Connick Jr. But then I remembered: Brad Bird. He of The Simpsons, The Incredibles, and Ratatouille. Watch and behold:

Iron Giant Trailer
by duracelleur

Now, go out and get yourself the special edition DVD.

Not my Milwaukee

See ThisisMyMilwaukee
originally found via Metafilter

I'm guessing it's actually New York.

When I was a kid, while watching an episode of Laverne & Shirley together, my father turned to me and said, "That's not Milwaukee. There aren't brownstones like that here."
That moment was pretty much the only thing I could think of while watching that video.

I seriously have no idea what the hell is going on there. I assume it'll end up being a viral ad for something lame.

A Gay President in 2084

Florida, Arizona, and California all voted to ban same-sex marriage. And Arkansas voted to ban adoption by gay couples.

Jebus fucking christ. Just when I thought I could stop hating this country, I have to start hating it again.

Apparently, the voters who won Florida and California for President Obama forgot about his ongoing opposition to the Defense of Marriage Act. I only hope that he remembers.

America. Fuck Yeah!

It's like this...



...only, Apollo Creed beat the shit out of Ivan Drago. Or something.

I honestly don't know what they're basing this on.

But now I feel like I should give it a try.

Ward 56, Voter #113

My polling place is about half a block from my apartment, and I usually vote just before leaving for work; when the polls have been open for about an hour. I get in and out within a few minutes, and my voter number is usually in the 20's.

This morning I went to my polling place about ten minutes before the polls were scheduled to open. The line, in addition to snaking around a courtyard that can't be seen in the above photo, went around the corner and halfway down the block. The wait was a brisk 45 minutes, and the line looked exactly the same when I left as it did when I arrived. When I got home from work some 8 hours later there was still a line down the block.

After spending all day reading the latest headlines on Democratic Underground, I immediately turned on CNN when I got home. And then I broke out in a cold sweat and felt nauseous. 6:00 pm is too early to know anything, and it's sure as fuck too early for an unnecessary panic attack.

Current projection has Obama at 175 to McCain's 46. I'm going to watch some Futurama and open another beer.

Gobama.

Speaking of Rub Huebel

I'm really enjoying his blog. It's like Kanye's without the air of self-satisfaction. And with way more weird pictures from the web and funnier videos posted.

I totally meant to check Kanye's blog regularly and then I didn't and I didn't actually care that much, but this time it's for real. I figured out the whole RSS feed thing, and it's now nestled between Pajiba and WTF_Nature for my daily reading pleasure.

Unfortunately, RSS feeds won't help with my Human Giant viewing. Just release the damn second season DVDs so I don't have to watch the episodes on my damn computer through MTV's website. Still, shit like this suggests that it'll be worth it.

See more WillArnett videos at Funny or Die

This is way better than my own estimate of 5 seconds.

I could survive for 41 seconds chained to a bunk bed with a velociraptor

Created by Bunk Beds Pedia

Found via Rob Hubel

I don't want no freakin' monkeys using my sink

Sink Showering Monkey


What I really enjoy is the guy's dispassionate monotone amid all the perky "wash, wash, wash".

Via Cute Overload (I know, right?).

Go buy some Fig Newmans

Philanthropist, salad dressing maker, race car driver Paul Newman died on Friday. I liked his films, but my love of Paul Newman came from his charity work, sexagenarian race car driving, and goofy Late Show appearances. Remember "Where the hell are the singing cats?".

That Late Show clip isn't embeddable, and isn't the greatest quality, so here's an Italian Barilla ad:

That guy who called me a "pink-o bleeding heart liberal" was totally wrong

Ha. Shows what you knew, dad.

My Liberal Identity:

You are a Reality-Based Intellectualist, also known as the liberal elite. You are a proud member of what’s known as the reality-based community, where science, reason, and non-Jesus-based thought reign supreme.

Take the quiz at www.FightConservatives.com

Found via Pajiba Love (some previous edition)

I love you, David Letterman

I'm so totally old these days, that I can't manage to stay up late enough to watch Letterman. Thank Jebus for the internets. Courtesy of Huffington Post, I was able to see these clips of Wednesday's Late Show when McCunt ducked out.



Ahh, David, if I could sacrifice some portion of my life to prolong yours, I would.

Hello Nasty

The Corpus Clock & Chronophage


Finally, my love of unique timepieces and creepy scary animal things comes together in the most perfect way possible.

Admittedly, with the shiny gold finish, I think it looks like it should be on display with fiber-optic Virgin Mary/waterfall lamps at a flea market. However, I think that just adds to its inherent charms. The close up of the Chronophage--the grasshopper/wasp/dragon thing on top--creeped me the hell out. With its hinged jaw, blinking eyes, and big pointy spider legs, it looks like one of the scarier muppets that populated my childhood nightmares.

Aesthetically pleasing or not, this clock is made of pure unadulterated awesome.

She's Crafty: Cross Stitched Baby Bib

Stitched by me for a friend's new baby. The hardest part was finding a decent picture of Tupac's actual tattoo. I suppose I could've just written "Thug Life" in some sort of old-tyme font, but I figured if I was going to do this I should do it right.


I didn't know it before, but "Thug Life" actually stood for "The Hate U Give Little Infants Fucks Everybody". With that in mind, why would you not dress an infant in something that says Thug Life?

If you don't go for bizarre acronyms, and want to define thug in the traditional sense, you could consider the Edward Gorey school of thought:
It works on so many levels.

Say hello to my little friends

I wound up getting a biology degree because I like animals, and deep down, my fantasy job is probably something like "Zookeeper" or "Ostrich Wrangler" or "Fish Observer". While I'm stuck working a boring animal-free job, the internets provide a plethora of weird and interesting animals:

Puss Caterpillar

Flannel Moth

Giant Slug

Sea Slugs (Nudibrachs)

Impala, Crocodiles, Hippo, Birds

see also:

WTF_Nature
Animal Review

I didn’t need molded plastic to improve my physique. Pure. West.

It's a damn shame that they couldn't include Adam West in this video. Still in the battle of the Batmen, my money's on Christian Bale. Patrick Bateman/Batman will always be cooler than Mr. Mom/Batman, Jim Morrison/Batman, or ER Doctor/Batman.

This music-loving man is...

...Takeshi Kaneshiro.

New Yorkers will get to check him out as a death-god in Accuracy of Death, which has screenings at the NY Asian Film Festival on July 3 & 4 (what better way to celebrate Independence Day?) The rest of us will have to hope that it has a US distributor which will send it to the local arthouse theatre (currently selling the fuck out by showing Indiana Jones and Sex and the City). And if that doesn't happen, there's always the internets.

The blurb on the NYAFF website is promising, which is good because this seems like it could easily turn into a schmaltzy crapfest. NYAFF referenced Neil Gaiman's Sandman, but watching the trailer I was reminded of the awesome Dead Like Me. Except, instead of Mandy Patinkin, there's a telepathic dog.



I hope it'll get released here, and for now I'm being cautiously optimistic.

Quite the kerfuffle

At the end of a long work week, nothing beats spending Friday annoying the hell out of your co-workers by speaking in a terrible British accent and a high falsetto voice.

In honour of these shenanigans, I present my inspiration: Rubbish Transvestite, Emily Howard.

Those useless trees produce the air that I am breathing

I never fully bought in to the cult of M. Night Shamalyn (yeah, I'm not going to look up the actual spelling). I didn't like The Sixth Sense that much because I knew the "twist" going in, and Bruce Willis and children are two things that I'd rather take a broken glass enema than watch.

I endured the endless tedium of Signs, pondering why those hillbillies didn't run the Indian guy out of town after he vehicular manslaughtered someone. Plus, nothing made me rage quite as hard as the film's final "message" about how his god makes everything happen for a reason.

When I was dragged to The Village, I brought along a water bottle full of vodka and snarked, "I bet it's, like, modern times, and they're just fucking Amish or something", in the theater before the movie started.

That said, I was momentarily intrigued by The Happening. When I first read the synopsis, I though, "Huh, that might not be complete ass." Then I took some time to think about it and realized that even if I could get past the Shaymalan-ness of it, the presence of Marky Mark almost guaranteed suckitude.* The reviews I've read seem to support that suspicion. And killer plant spores? Come on!
*Edit: The involvement of Betty Buckley assuredly spells pure unadulterated ass. Don't believe me? Just try watching an episode of Oz that featured her.

I'm not saying I'll never ever watch this crapfest. I'm just saying I'd rather eat $10 in quarters than pay to watch it.

Besides, I've already seen this movie, and it was Japanese and freaky as fuck. Yes, Suicide Circle was a hot mess of a film that starts out crazy, derails about 2/3 of the way through and gets crazier, and then manages to go back on track for a not-entirely-shocking reveal (yes, a twist) that still managed to creep me the fuck out. I'm not saying it's a great film, but it's creepy and available from Netflix.

If unsettling movies about mass suicide float your boat, check it out. And, if you're still looking for some menacing plant life, rewatch that scene with the apple trees from The Wizard of Oz.

Lou Ferigno had a better paint job than you

The Hulk still looks like it blows, but this clip is excellent (and not just because I'm strangely amused by the sight of Edward Norton punching himself in the face).



Clips like this and a similar one for The Bourne Ultimatum make me wonder why the hell I don't watch Kimmel.

Aside from the fact that I'm physically incapable of staying up past 10:30pm.

Douche overload

I just saw an ad on MTV [shut up, America's Next Top Dance Crew is on] for something involving Ashley Simpson's husband.

The ad was him and the guy who's always in pictures with that chick with the huge fake tits from The Hills.

I've never wanted to punch my TV so badly in my life.

You've got red on you

Perhaps TV in New Zealand is a highly competitive game with hundreds of networks duking it out for a slice of the market share.
Maybe ad executives down there are just more creative or willing to do cool and wacky stuff.
Or, it could be that TV2 is just incredibly cool.

Whatever the case, this Kill Bill billboard is the third ad from NZ's TV2 that has gotten my attention.
Saatchi and Saatchi set this up in downtown Aukland, and for all I know, it could be promoting a single showing. It's perfectly over-the-top, but compared to the endless viral bullshit used to pimp out movies, it has a sort of elegant simplicity. It communicates anything you might need to know about Kill Bill. Okay, not really, but still.


Also by Saatchi and Saatchi for TV2 was the Batsignal campaign for Batman Begins.
Batman stickers put down over pre-existing footpath lights; lights go on: instant Batsignal. So simple, but totally effective.


Still, my favourite TV2 ads are the ones for American Psycho (also by Saatchi and Saatchi).

This billboard is absolutely sublime. Truthfully, it's probably difficult to grasp if you haven't read the novel or seen the film; but if you have, you might not even need to read it to get it. The text is spot on, and sweet Jebus, it even has a watermark.

The print ad is even better.
It's like one of those optical illusions with the vase or something. You see it. And then you see it.
This is already my desktop wallpaper, but I think I'm going to put it on a t-shirt for Independence Day this year.

Keaton & Arbukle 2007

Anything can happen in green screen: dinosaurs, socks, bottles.

Marlon Brando sniffed jackets. He sniffed pants.

You're a rebel without a cause? What's your cause, not sniffing jackets?

One shade (of orange) for all!

Do you want to have atomic orange skin like your favourite celebretard without the massive sun damage? Order now!



I hope this is a joke.

Baby/Mama

I was going to write something about the new Tina Fey/Amy Poehler movie and my utter contempt for the whole "successful career woman suddenly decides she needs/unexpectedly acquires a child and finds that the experience improves her life" genre. Predictably, it quickly became completely incoherent, and was mostly about how I was disappointed by Fey, Poehler, Sigourney Weaver, and Maura Tierney for being involved in this tripe; as well as Diane Keaton for starring in Baby Boom some twenty years ago.

Besides, I haven't even seen the film.

Anyway, in the comments section for the Pajiba review of this film someone registered their distate for babies, referring to them as "selfish subhumans that cry all the time".

"Subhuman" designation aside, that could apply to my mother.

No wonder I don't want a child.

Hillbilly Logic

Not being the product of years of inbreeding, I don't fully understand the ways of those "Sons of the Soil". I suppose this bullshit about Hillbilly Pop Star's Vanity Fair spread tells me all I need to know.

In a nutshell:

Good

Bad

One could argue that Trailer Trash just wanted attention, or that Rodent-Themed Parent Corporation flipped the hell out, but the lack of reaction when photo #1 came out suggests that she really is skeeved by the VF pictures.

It reminds me of the time we were having dinner, and my brother swapped his fillet mignon for a kid's chicken nugget meal with extra ranch dressing.

Notably, they weren't outraged by the one picture from that shoot that creeped me the fuck out.

I'm a PC

Just when I thought that assy ad campaign was over, there it is again.

It was sort of amusing at first, but it quickly grew tiresome. Now, I'm left pondering this:

If the ad is pro-Mac, why is John Hodgman the PC?

I'm proud to see my operating system anthropomorphized by the man who taught me about the furry old lobster, was featured in one of my favourite installments of This American Life ever, and is a correspondent for The Daily Show.

Of course, if you're comfortable being represented by the guy from Dodgeball, that's your business.

Strange Days...

So, a mild tremor from an earthquake woke me up the other morning. Note, when I say "woke me up", I mean "roused me just enough to readjust my blindfold, think 'why the hell is the train running so early?', and promptly fall back asleep".

This may not seem odd until you take into account the fact that I am firmly embedded in Middle America. And there aren't any trains that run near my apartment.

I probably would've forgotten the whole thing had it not been for the fact that the first thing I heard on the radio was "...early-morning earthquake in southern Illinois". This was something of a shock to me, as I had spent my entire life under the impression that there weren't any earthquake-causing fault lines in this part of the country. I figured it was a trade-off for our lack of fresh seafood and the idiot Two-and-a-Half Men-watching stereotypes.

How wrong I was. It turns out the New Madrid zone sprawls across southern Illinois, Missouri, Kentucky, Arkansas, and Tennessee; and it was the site of three or four of the biggest earthquakes ever recorded in the US. I don't want to freak out, but holy shit! It turns out scientists have been speculating that this region's due for a "Big One". Some time. Like, between now and 2040. Yeah, I'm suddenly not too concerned about it.


In an appropriately odd end to my day, I also learned that Bai Ling has a blog.

The kids listen to the rap music, which gives them the brain damage

Apparently, Bill Cosby has recorded a hip hop album.

My response?

Please, you couldn't even turn in to Bill Bixby.

The first indication that the new Edward Norton Incredible Hulk film might suck?
The fact that they went ahead and made it despite the general assyness of the whole Hulk franchise and especially the previous Ang Lee-directed installment.

The second? The trailer.

If those things don't put you off, consider the official poster. Notably, Edward Norton's all-denim outfit:

Nothing says "mediocre" like a man in head-to-toe denim.
Edit to add: Holy Shit! It looks like he even has a denim shirt on under the jacket.

Still, if you're really keen on watching Edward Norton switch between pathetic little bitch and ultra-violent maniac, allow me to recommend a double feature of Everyone Says I Love You and either American History X or Fight Club.

Connecting white witches on the Moor with pre-raphaelites down in Broomhall

I saw the original Wicker Man a few years ago. It was regularly mentioned in the British movie magazine Hot Dog, Pulp had a song called "Wicker Man" on their final CD, and there was that episode of Coupling where it was mentioned.

So, thanks to Netflix, I watched.

I think I found the musical interludes too off putting to actually enjoy the film on any level, and I suspect the great love some people have for the film comes from the fact that Britt Ecklund gets naked (also while singing). Yeesh. Singing. I just couldn't get past that. Seriously, check this shit:

Yeah, I don't even know what to say to that. It's just unsettling.

Still, that weirdness seemed to be the general tone of films from the '70's. Just look at Zardoz.

That sort of weird campyness and inexplicable insanity must have been a requirement.

Of course, that doesn't explain the 2006 Wicker Man remake. Neil Labute, you made In the Company of Men. You should know better. Shame.

The only redeeming quality is the--I'm assuming--unintentional hilarity of the film. I haven't worked up the nerve to watch the whole thing yet, but thanks to the Internets, I can see all I need:

I could watch that scene with the bees all day long.

Please, girl, try not to laugh at me no matter how awkward this gets

This made me laugh so hard I choked on my gin & tonic.

Initially, I thought that was Trey Parker of South Park, but it's actually some guy called Mike Polk. Well played, Mr. Polk.


Naturally, that song made me think of this one:

"When it's with me you only need two minutes 'cause it's so intense."

And then there's this one:

Imagine there's something clever about San Francisco here

So, I still have some San Francisco pictures left to upload, but they're all bits and pieces of stuff and don't really work together.

Here we go:

One facet of San Francisco's public transportation system is the street car. It's a single line that runs from Fisherman's Wharf/North Beach down to SoMa and back. It's cheaper and sometimes less crowded than the cable cars, but just as fun and touristy. Plus, it runs past the super-awesome Ferry Building.

The line is populated with a mash-up of different cars, all of them vintage. Some are from the lines that ran through San Francisco and other US cities. Others have been imported from foreign "sister" cities. Sadly, it didn't occur to me to try and get pictures of all of them until my second-to-last day.The one partially visible in this shot is from Italy.

This one, obviously, is from Zurich, Switzerland.

The Ferry Building is a fun place to get lunch, and while it's not a destination, it's worth a visit. There are daily tours and a weekend farmer's market, but I didn't see any of that. What made the Ferry Building worth a second visit for me was the food. Specifically, the French Macarons at Miette. I also got aged Spanish Mahon from the Cowgirl Creamery, vegetarian dim sum and tea (black lychee) at the Imperial Tea Court, and some amazing Recchiuti chocolates.

If you're fortunate enough to live in the area, there are also a number of vendors selling perishible items, like exotic mushrooms, caviar (but don't buy that because it kills the sturgeon), produce, meat, and seafood.

Fisherman's Wharf was a brief (maybe 2 miles) walk away from the Ferry Building. My camera battery was dying, but I managed to get a few nice shots.

Facing south, the Ferry Building is on the left.

Facing north, one of the piers is on the right. To your left, palm trees.

Another pier and a sunset or something.

Japantown had a large shopping complex that we spent some time exploring. The main attraction for me was Ichiban Kan, purveyors of inexpensive Japanese stuff like bento boxes, reuseable nylon shopping bags, those plastic sandals with the accupressure nubs on the soles, and sweet, sweet candy. There were a ton of restaurants, and I was left with the task of picking one.

The sign above was for a shop that seemed to specialize in curry. I was tempted, but opted instead for a packed noodle shop where I ate a gigantic bowl of veggie tempura udon.



Hey, kids, it's the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art! If you're an art nerd, like I am (in the last semester of my undergrad, I almost tacked on an art history major that would've meant another two years in college), then you always want to go to art museums when you're on vacation.* I have a particular love for weird and wacky modern art. In London, it was the Tate Modern. When I've got time to kill in Chicago I head for the Museum of Contemporary Art (conveniently located right next to the Watertower Mall).
I especially wanted to visit the SFMOMA because they were hosting an exhibit of Joseph Cornell's works. They were always some of my favourite pieces at the Art Institute in Chicago, and I was thrilled to see a massive collection here. They also had a Jeff Wall exhibit that I thoroughly enjoyed.

*Strangely, it's been at least ten years since I've visited the local art museum even with it's amazingly beautiful Calatrava-designed unit.

Random shot of a church and some skyscrapers taken from the park near SFMOMA.

I Still Hate Everyone: The Return

In this post I mentioned that they're allegedly going to be making a series of movies based on board games. The whole concept fills me with rage. Have we really turned in to such a cultural wasteland that we're no longer content to remake classic and foreign films, adapt books, comics, TV shows, or sketches from TV shows? It's only a matter of time before Coupon: The Movie is a grim reality.


Still, I knew I had seen a sketch about a "Chutes and Ladders" movie, but I worried that it had come from SNL or (shudder) Mad TV. Fortunately, it was a Robot Chicken gag, and was actually pretty funny.*

Note, this originally aired in 2006.
*Not funny: That this may actually happen.

Yeah, Wall-E isn't a Brad Bird joint. I'm less interested in seeing it. Still, I'd watch Pixar's worst film a million times over before I endure one of Dreamworks' crapfests or the steaming pile of celebretard-voiced shit that Horton Hears a Who looks to be. The commercials currently airing either pimp out the cast or feature a sing along of REO Speedwagon's Can't Fight This Feeling (and I'm so ashamed that I know that without the aid of google).


I'm mostly indifferent to the news that they might be remaking The Breakfast Club. I've seen parts of it on Sunday afternoon cable and have gotten enough of it to know that I don't like it. I think I'm about five years too young to have been swept away in the unstoppable wake of John Hughes teen comedies. I think it's asinine to remake it, though. From what I've read, they're doing a reimagining of the story and making it about twenty-somethings at an airport.

If they're going to do that, it should be pointed out that we already have a reimaging of The Breakfast Club. It's still set in a high school and uses the same lame-ass archetypes, but it has alien monsters and Robert Rodriguez and Elijah Wood transitioning from child actor to hobbit. That's right, bitches, The Faculty. Hell, there's even a scene where new girl/alien gives her own version of the last dialogue from The Breakfast Club.


I'm not proud, but I watched No Reservations on DVD. I can't even make a lame joke about it not being at all like Anthony Bourdain's memoir No Reservations. I knew that it would be horrible, and I'd hate myself for watching, but I figured there'd be some possibly decent food porn. No such luck. It's like Baby Boom, but without the delightfulness of Diane Keaton to make it tolerable. If Dark Knight doesn't kick ass, you're dead to me, Aaron Eckhart.

Attempted Kitler Invasion Thwarted

Border security must be strengthened. The AP reports a young Kitler attempted to sneak in to the US by hiding in a crate shipped from Singapore to Cleveland, OH.

The Kitler was discovered at a Cleveland company, and is currently being detained. Charges have not yet been filed.

It's like three for the price of one

Let's run down a partial list of stuff I like:

• The first eight seasons of The Simpsons
  
• Classic films
• The weirdness of literal translations from foreign languages in to English.

Just what the hell am I getting at here? Acualidad Simpson

It's a Spanish language Simpsons fansite that FilmDrunk linked for its supercool gallery of film references.

Yes, from the obvious to the obscure, the website has side-by-side comparison of the scenes in question along with a brief description.

The picture comparisons show just how dead-on the film references were.

As if that wasn't enough, check out the page through the magic of Google Translate. I think the text that accompanies the photo above says it all:

When Flanders failed 7F23
What is beautiful live! (1946)
In the midst of so much joy at seeing his friends help her husband, Mary Bailey (Donna Reed) throws his hands to his face and smile incredulous. A gesture is the same used by Maude Flanders contemplated when the solidarity of its neighbors with her husband. In addition, wearing a dress like that of the protagonist of What is beautiful live!.

I'm not sure what I like more about that: The literal interpretation of It's a Wonderful Life or that in the first sentence Mary Bailey is referenced as a "him".

The site has about three pages of this stuff, and it's continually being updated, so check it out.

I Still Hate Everyone

Sometimes, in my weaker moments, I ask myself why I won't fork over $10 to see a movie in the theatre. Then I think about the movies being released and contemplate spending that $10 on materials for nail bombs to send to people who make movies.

What's pissing me the hell off today? To start, there are the new Mike Meyers/Will Ferrell/Larry the goddamn Cable Guy movies. Then there's the whole "movies based on board games" thing. And then there's everything else that's horribly wrong with movies:

• They're remaking Rosemary's Baby. Goddamnit, you guys, don't remake good movies. At least don't remake good classic movies. Didn't you learn anything from the remakes of Psycho, The Manchurian Candidate, or Shaft?
  


• They're also remaking A Take of Two Sisters. I saw the original Korean film last year and not only was it scary as hell, it was absolutely beautiful. The moody lighting, the super-saturated colours; it rivaled Christopher Doyle's best work. Maybe I'm just partial to Asian women in red lipstick, but do you really think a shit-ass American remake will have anything that looks as good as this one shot?
  
  
• I watched the Meet Bill trailer, and my train of though went something like this:
  Aaron Eckhart has a new movie coming out. Sweet! He's sometimes awesome.
  He's kind of a schlub. That's bad. I like my Aaron Eckhart like I like my men: smarmy sons of bitches.
  It has a mildly amusing premise. That's-Not so fast. There's a high probability of some feel-good bullshit ending-fuck. That's bad
  The supporting cast looks promising ... but it includes Jessica Alba Goddamnit you son of a bitch. Can't I ever have anything?
  Looks like he's in a speedo at some point. Too late. It's over. I'm going to go watch In the Company of Men and Thank You For Smoking and forget I saw this.


• Superhero Movie.


• Rumors are Spike Jonez's Where the Wild Things Are film is being reshot because it's "too weird" and "too scary" for kids in test audiences. It's been a while since I last read the book, but I sort of remember it as being a little weird and a little scary. Besides, what kind of idiot takes their kid to a Spike Jonez movie? When I first heard about this film, I assumed it was going to be totally aimed at adults. I watched the "leaked test footage" that was all over teh internets, and I though it was totally charming.
  



• Finally, I watched Ratatouille* and The Incredibles together last Sunday, and I'd like there to be a moratorium on animated films not directed by Brad Bird. While Wall-E** is oddly intriguing (I'm hoping it's more Iron Giant than Short Circuit), the piece-of-shit panda movie fills me with unspecified rage. Maybe it's because the participation of Jackie Chan makes me suspect it'll be an extended chink joke.
  

* Firefox spellcheck, while awesome, recommended Bouillabaisse, Guillemots, Guillemot's, and Guillemot as corrections for Ratatouille.
** A few days later, I've done some fact-checking and realized that Brad Bird is not involved in Wall-E. It's actually the Finding Nemo guy. Regardless, my statements stand; they're just sort of non-sequitor-ish.

All the other blogs are doing it

So, I haven't been even remotely interested in Garfield since I was in the fifth grade. I could barely work up a good rage over the live action movies they put out a few years ago. I have no feelings of nostalgia for the comics, animated series, or once-ubiquitous car window suction cup toy things.

Anyway, I figured that Garfield, much like Scooby Doo, boy bands, and milk, was a relic from my childhood that I could no longer tolerate.

Then, half of the blogs I read at work home in my leisure time started pimping out garfield minus garfield (and look, now I am too!). I tried to resist, but my sense of morbid curiosity got the better of me.


Is it funny? It's better than the original at least. The reworking of the strip as the story of John Arbuckle, existential everyman, works in a weird way. However, the whole thing is strangely unsettling.

Kudos to you, garfield minus garfield author, you've managed to creep me out like a Japanese horror film.

Forget it, Jake. It's Chinatown.

While the previous visit had taken me through a less touristy region, this time I decided to go for the tacky touristy version that had so impressed me as a kid.

I took the cable car from the turnaround at Fisherman's Wharf to Bush & Powell, near the Chinatown gate. From there, I walked up Grant to Broadway, stopping in souvenir shops and taking pictures of whatever amused me.

My Jebus sense was tingling. I saw this display from across the street.




This guy was sitting in front of a bank playing that horn thing. I was loud as hell, and I could hear it from a block away. I took this photo from across the street, but I saw a couple people get all up in his face and snap pictures.

If I recall correctly, I think I saw a few of these shops. I'm still not sure if Blest is supposed to be Blessed or Best.

At the top of Grant, on Broadway, I paused in front of a bakery long enough to notice the ice cream displayed. In the larger image above, you can just make out some of the flavours, like banana, strawberry, green tea, and dragonfruit.


This photo shows just a few of the other flavours for sale. Taro. They had taro ice cream. Naturally I had to go inside.

This place was clearly not a tourist spot, as the menus were completely in Chinese, and the women working the counter spoke heavily-accented English to a white couple in line before addressing me in Chinese. I wish I had found this place earlier, because I would've walked up there every day and gotten a different flavour. The taro was delicious and creamy, and if I hadn't been pigging out on bao and red bean flavoured pastry, I would've gotten a scoop of lychee to go with it.

In its own way, ultra-touristy Chinatown was every bit as enjoyable as slightly-less-touristy Chinatown.

Home-Made Prozac: Personal Grooming Edition

Some six years ago, Queer Eye for the Straight Guy taught me the pure, unabashed joy of watching a man have patches of hair ripped off of his body. It's not that I didn't think it would be funny, I just hadn't seen it until then. Now, Marvo at The Impulsive Buy has posted a video of his first ever chest waxing:

That clip, while funny as hell, lacks the Jackass-ness to make it truly great. So, I present these guys. When you watch, ask yourself "Which is more gay?":


I'm gonna get behind you.


Oooh, I'm gonna do my nipple too.

That's the first time I've been grateful for Coit Tower

If you decide to visit Coit Tower while in San Francisco--and you really should--for the love of gawd, walk there. You can drive, take a cab, or catch the bus to a nearby place, but if you value your sanity you will put on some sensible shoes and walk your ass up that hill. If my fat ass can manage it, you can too. If anything, you should do it for the sense of accomplishment you'll get.

In the full-sized version of this picture you can see a totally steep street leading up to Coit Tower. A street that I walked up.

My trek up to Coit Tower was something of a fluke. It was the last full day I was spending in San Francisco, and I had run out of stuff I absolutely had to do before I left. I suppose I could've gone to the Golden Gate Bridge or hung out in Haight-Ashbury for a while, but I'm lazy and Coit Tower was fairly nearby. Plus, it had been in my periphery for the entire trip like some sort of subliminal beacon.

We lucked out, and had an absolutely gorgeous sunny day that was perfect for gazing out at the city from its highest point.

Seriously. Pictures don't lie. That's the Bay Bridge from a vantage point near the tower.

From this spot, there was a twisty little nature path--unpaved, trees and plants and shit everywhere--that you follow to the tower itself. At one point we hit a fork in the path and could've walked up some stairs straight to the tower's doors or continued on towards the sound of rabid vermin. At my mother's urging to stop being such a wimpy little bitch (not her exact words), we went forward.

Kids, listen to your mothers, because sometimes they're right and you get to see cool as hell stuff like this:

Parrots. A huge flock of wild parrots.

This may not be news to some people, particularly those who've read or seen The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill, but I never expected to turn a corner and see a huge flock of wild parrots. Especially not in the middle of San Francisco, in the middle of winter. It was honestly one of the coolest things I've ever seen.

After goggling them for a while, we headed inside, bought tickets, and took the totally old human-operated elevator up to the top. The observation area is basically an open room with big plexiglass windows that give you a 360-degree view of the city.

It didn't occur to me to try and get a picture of Lombard street until I was on my flight home, but should you find yourself at Coit Tower, you would totally be able to get a kick-ass shot.

Note the coins on that window ledge.

While I didn't observe anyone making a deposit, it appears that people from all over the world leave behind souvenirs. I guess it's like the penny-squishing machines, but different.

I didn't donate to the fund that no one will ever collect and might just fall and kill somebody, because I had plans to buy myself to what might be the real San Francisco treat:

It appears to be a chipwich covered in chocolate and nuts. Sadly, I totally forgot about this when we got back downstairs. Still, who needs ice cream when there are parrots and breathtaking views and fights in the parking lot.

Yeah. Actually, not so much a fight as an argument, but it seemed like it could've erupted into an actual fight.

So, Coit Tower has what just might be the worst parking in the entire city. There's a circular lot that holds, maybe twelve cars; and, there's a single (bi-directional) road leading to and from the tower. There really isn't any room to turn around until you get to the top, so anyone driving up there might get stuck sitting in traffic while cars at the front wait for a spot.

While waiting for the bus that stops at Coit, I watched a woman and her sons stand in the handicapped parking spot to save it for someone in a car at the bottom of the hill. When a car with a handicapped tag showed up, this went over about as well as could be expected. They screamed at each other: she had someone coming, he didn't give a fuck. In the time that this went down, two or three additional spots opened and were filled by cars in the que.

The moral to this story? Unless you want to a source of entertainment for someone who will proceed to talk shit about you (and I totally did), walk up to Coit Tower. It's a fairly easy hike, and you won't be the subject of a story that starts "I saw whitest, trashiest people at Coit Tower today".