"I think that we all understand that Wonder Woman is a hard-nippled Hammer of Justice, who will someday save us all. But she's so much more. She also has an ass that I'd someday like to eat my wedding cake off of."
-- Skippy Stalin
As a Neocon, the only music that "speaks to my politics" is country. *gag*
So as a music lover, most of the bands in my collection are obscure, and decidedly left-wing. But I guess I haven't been quite cool enough to have even heard of the cultural vanguards of Pulp...
Readers may recall the 2006 Reading Festival being animated by a sing-along music video titled Cunts Are Still Running the World, which had been sent across the English Channel by Pulp’s Jarvis Cocker, along with an appeal to “smash the system.” No doubt Mr Cocker’s admirers could feel the heat of his socialist belly fire all the way from the singer’s second home in Paris.
Australians may have a love of plain speaking but new laws are set to curtail some of their more colourful language with police issuing on-the-spot fines for obnoxious swearing.
The country's second most populous state Victoria is due to approve new legislation this week under which police will be able to slap fines of up to Aus$240 (US$257) on people using offensive words or phrases.
I bet the producers of Demolition Man are shaking their heads, wondering how they could have written a satire so true to real life...
Advice both Mikey and I could have used 15 years ago, from the newest resident of the Justice League - The NoNonsense Man...
Chapter 10 of my book, The Man's No-Nonsense Guide to Women, is called 'Marc's Ten Commandments' (page 133). Here they are:
1. Look in the mirror before peering through a window 2. Men and women are from Earth; never accept or tolerate a woman from any other planet 3. Make only those demands on a woman that you place on yourself 4. Accept only those demands from a woman that she places on herself 5. If you keep doing the same things, you will keep getting the same results 6. Always obey your instincts; always update your instincts 7. When meeting a woman, what you see is what you get. If you don't like it, move on. Never: a. Be on a mission to change her b. Fall in love with her potential----what you think she could/should become 8. A relationship's future must be gauged by its heartbeat, not its history or its potential 9. Remember that life is short----happiness, loneliness, and dysfunction are choices 10. Never stay in a relationship where you spend a lot of time avoiding pain.
Don't scoff ladies. This applies to you too! Buy his book and give a copy to every henpecked man you know.
The proposed Australian Government clampdown on smut just got a whole lot broader, as news emerged of a ban on small breasts and female ejaculation in adult material.
The end result of this widening of the censor’s net could be the addition of millions of websites to the internet filter now being proposed.
Breasts came under the spotlight a year ago, as Senators Barnaby Joyce and Guy Barnett commenced a campaign against publicly available porn. Rounding up magazines from corner shops and filling stations, Senator Joyce claimed that publications featuring small-breasted women were encouraging paedophilia.
Not that I don't agree that itty-bitty tatas are a crying shame, but I don't think they should be illegal. It's just that I don't think I could go to a country with people so stupid they think that small breasts somehow encourage pedophilia.
It was with much consternation that I discovered the closest location where I can see theAtlas Shruggedmovie, upon it's release next week, is Washington D.C. A mere 10 hour drive away.
Despite the rumoured Conservative wave taking over this country, the film version of a book which has been consistently parked on the bestseller list for over 50 years, and in fact soared in sales exponentially in the last 3 years, has found no venue willing to screen it.
I did however find that, should Mikey and I still have the urge to take in a show that night, Cineplex has reserved a screen for Mulroney: The Opera. Sure to draw in far more than a Hollywood production of an epic bestseller.
Remember that class in college where the intellectually superior feminist dyke professor (or her hyper-feminized male equivalent) explained all the reasons why sex was nothing more than a repressive patriarchal exercise in physical slavery?
Ya. I missed that one because I didn't go to college, so I have a pole about to be permanently installed in my bedroom and a stash of toys that almost fills my walk-in closet, along with a wealth of sexual experience that would almost rival your average porn star.
I guess us uneducated types never learned that we weren't supposed to enjoy it.
My sweet husband is scheduled to take my kids out to Chapters tonight, on a book-buying trip.
Since he was already going to be there, and since I have always meant to read it and have never got around to it yet, and since I was helpfully reminded of it by an Instapundit link today, I asked him to pick up a copy of Sun Tzu's The Art of War.
His immediate response to this out-of-the-blue request?
The Oscar nominations were announced yesterday and I don’t think a soul in the civilized world is surprised by any of them. Nor should anyone be surprised by who wins.
I never watch the Oscars, mostly because if I cared to spend my time with a hoard of self-adulating vacuous tarts congratulating themselves on their own philosophical brilliance and edginess, I’d go to University, or a Liberal Party convention. Besides, unless the latest over-primped starlet in a too-tight couture nightmare decides to use Joan Rivers’ face as a red carpet trampoline I expect it will be a snorefest that is both predictable and insufferable – a combination which should be strictly reserved for political conventions and large family gatherings.
However, today’s announcement did bring to my mind, a host of old favorites which I have long considered to be under appreciated. In a nod to the self-righteous thespians due to saunter home with a golden statue in several weeks’ time, I give you Wonder Woman’s Top Ten Never-Missed, Too-Often Re-Watched and Guilty-Secret Nears and Dears:
#10 – True Lies. Bumbling Muslim terrorist wannabes meet ugly violent end. Plenty of jokes in bad taste and a Jamie Lee Curtis striptease scene. Need I say more?
#9 - Die Hard With A Vengeance. John McClane is the ultimate cowboy with fireworks. Snarky and tough. Love him. Add into the mix a few pokes at anti-white racism in the character of Zues (Samuel L. Jackson), and the sexy Jeremy Irons as super-cool bad guy and we have a shoot ‘em up thriller that (IMHO) trumps the first film, which is hard to do because the first was wicked-awesome, too. I think the reason I liked this one just a hair better, is because the action and humor was multi-faceted with the 2 main characters playing off each other, rather than having Bruce Willis play the one-man militia yet again. I dig it with a vengeance!
#8 – Equilibrium. I have often told Mikey that I can watch and enjoy almost any movie if the esthetic is rich enough. Conversely, even the most compelling storyline is almost unwatchable for me, if the cinematography is ugly or dull. So, camera angles and lighting matter and this Christian Bale sci-fi action Orwellian nightmare is stunningly beautiful. Not only does it involve several topless scenes with the aforementioned Bale (always a winner in my book), the dark sterility of the totalitarian future inspires a sense of foreboding and desperation that the masochist in me loves to gorge on. Plenty of slow-mo, Matrix-like ass kicking never hurts either.
#7 & #6 - And now we enter the Michael Bay portion of our tour. Armageddon, closely followed by Independence Day are both about catastrophic events and larger than life uber-heroic figures in an in-your-face, crash-flash-boom style that inspires me to fist-pumping woots and an I-can-effin’-do-anything swagger. Cowboys with rockets and fireworks. I can’t deny – it gets me sweaty ;)
#5 – The Count of Monte Cristo. I have never read the book but judging by how similar literary classics have been butchered by Hollywood, I expect Alexandre Dumas would not consider it a compliment that I love this movie enough, I wouldn’t want to ruin it by reading the book now. I own this on DVD and routinely re-watch it whenever I am up to a menial sit-down task at home. To be fair, I could watch Jim Caviezel in an infomercial and still come dangerously close to orgasm at the merest bat of his glorious eyelashes. Outlander is another obscure Caviezel gem. But my strong affection for this movie comes from the nobility of the characters: The long-suffering good guy uses intelligence and perseverance, through crippling adversity, to triumph over arrogant opportunists and scumbags who in turn meet their just and sometimes bloody ends.
#4 – Oscar. Mikey hates that I love this movie. To be fair, at first blush a Sylvester Stallone depression era comedy of errors doesn’t sound like it has much to recommend it, but I spent my childhood watching Jack and Chrissy bumble their way through umpteen ridiculous situations and loved every single minute of it. This is so like that, but without the ugly backdrop of the 70’s polyester paint cannon and a winning cast of familiar favorites. I put it on when I’m puttering around the house and it is hilarious and light-hearted – it always puts me in a good mood.
#3 – Legally Blonde. Elle Woods, to me, is a more fashionable, cuter, real-life version of Spongebob. Good hearted, a little naïve, sweet and so over-the-top adorable, you spend the whole movie waffling between wanting to pinch her cheeks or jumping up and giving her a giggly high-five. She’s rich and spoiled and beautiful and superfluous but she’s nice and decent, honest and classy. Love her. And once again, we see the underdog subject of low expectations trump the snotty pampered class turds with style and sauciness. I’m sensing a theme here.
#2 – National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. The Christmas season doesn't even begin for me until this DVD goes in. It is the perfect accompaniment to my tree-trimming activities and any Christmas baking marathons, but it's not un-heard-of for me to pop it in on a lazy summer afternoon, too. I love this one because in my heart of hearts, I am Clark W. Griswold -- eager and well-meaning, dedicated to my family and plagued by misfortune, ridiculous situations and in sufferable characters. I would be that guy who smothers the house in Christmas lights and goes through hell and back to give my family the "good old fun family Christmas" I've always dreamed of. It is a point of pride for me, to make us the "jolliest bunch of assholes, this side of the nuthouse".
#1 – Don’t groan, but my ultimate, most-watched favorite movie of all time is the quirky, silly, B-quality Tom Hanks throwaway, The ‘Burbs. I imagine this as my neighborhood, and I’m the gruff, gun-toting ex-military dude with the tartish wife and a considerable lack of tactful discretion. And who hasn’t had neighbors like the creepy Klopeks? Hardly a week or two go by without me popping my well-worn disc into the DVD player while I clean the kitchen or bake cookies, and I let it run in the background, occasionally pausing in my work to chuckle at the ridiculous antics of the residents of Hinkley Hills. I’m only a wee bit embarrassed to admit that I could probably recite each line by heart and I still never get tired of watching it. I expect my family will eventually use this behavior as justification to have me committed in the future. Until then, all they can do is roll their eyes and humor me – much like some of you are doing right now, I suspect.
I’m sure some of you may find it cause for derision that my list does not include any intellectual heavyweights (like Stanley Kubrik, who I consider to be completely unwatchable), or perhaps a serious historical saga of some kind. I do like many of the Oscar-graced, too: The Last Samurai, The Lord of the Rings or Shawshank Redemption. But this list was for the unsung goodies – the ones that would have never been considered for Academy recognition, yet still manage to be eminently entertaining and far more watchable and re-watchable than most of the high-falutin’ critcs pics. If the list were longer, I’d add others like Hot Fuzz, The Matrix, Underworld, Van Helsing and 28 Days Later. Sadly, like with every good film, there has to be an end – and this is it.
Judging by the amount of stress, time and money Mikey and I have wasted just trying to manage his, I can't say I blame any of the women who decide a single dad has too much baggage to deal with to be worth dating. Of course, that's placing myself in the shoes of your average, wussy girl. I'm not that, so it was never a consideration for me.
But I have warned my eldest son, who has been steadily dating the same nice girl for over 2 years, that he must be very careful who he has children with because bitches are forever. Getting divorced is bad enough. Getting divorced with children involved, invariably chains you to a woman who is likely to viciously hate you for the rest of her life -- and may not be able to help herself from using your children as a means to exact punishment and revenge in uniquely cruel and creative ways.
For me though, there is nothing sexier than a really good dad. He's sensitive and patient, and doesn't mind getting dirty ;)
UPDATE: And after spending the last 5 hours listening to Canadian talk radio, I don't believe I have ever heard the word "faggot" used so many times -- ever, just in the telling of this story. Mission accomplished guys! It's nice to see there are still a few talking heads in this country with their balls intact.
It took me an hour and a half to drive the 20kms to work this morning. My ass hurts, my temper is frayed and I have a slew of work to catch up on...but this still made me laugh this morning:
Not having to answer the obvious and embarrassing questions about your irresponsible and destructive behaviour...
“You just get really drunk all the time. Which is awesome! At least I did anyway, it's not very professional. There's a Bloody Mary at 10 a.m. and keep it going all day!
You know, it was actually very liberating and amazing to play somebody who just didn't think about consequences because I'm so responsible with my life and too worried about everybody and my kids and where's everybody going. This character is like total opposite. In a way it was kinda fun, you know? I was sad when it ended because it was nice to play someone who just had no responsibility.”
So I admit to getting completely sucked in by the new AMC series, The Walking Dead. I'm not alone, so quit laughing.
Other than the quirky and dry-witted Shaun of the Dead, or the terrifyingly hyper-fast and vicious 28 Days Later, I've never really cared for zombie yarns. They usually tend to get tediously silly or gratuitously sloppy and with a horde of children to pick up after, I already get plenty of that without having to spend money on cable.
But The Walking Dead kicked me in the butt, grabbed me by the ears, and has been dragging me around for weeks now. I love it.
It has though, deeply affected me in a way that's kind of embarrassing to admit.
You see, after the season finale last night I didn't get a wink of sleep. It was the 3rd or 4th sleepless night I've had since I started watching. Contrary to what you may suspect though, I didn't lay awake all night out of terror at every little creak and thump in the house. Rather, my mind was racing over and over, for hours, meticulously planning my family's survival in the event of a zombie apocalypse.
No, seriously. Now you can laugh.
I've got it all worked out...where we would go and what we would need. It's rather ingenious, actually - in a curious and somewhat alarming kind of way.
Missing all that sleep, I am utterly exhausted now. But thanks to a couple of helpful links from Glenn Reynolds, I might actually be able to get a peaceful sleep tonight knowing I am strangely not alone, and that I can get everything I might need in one helpful package.
I don't necessarily disagree with her line of thinking, but the argument itself may be extended on a false premise since it's generally accepted that rape is rarely actually about sex, which would otherwise be the only factor joining these two activities.
But on it's face, I'd have to say I personally think women who cuckold their husbands are worse than rapists, primarily because rapists usually inflict the misery on strangers while cuckolding wives do it to people they're supposed to love. The nature of the betrayal is much worse.
And that's a fine note to start the weekend off...
It made sense. At last I understood the self-flagellation part of this faith. We were to inconvenience ourselves with no discernible end, save the faith that the practice alone would make us feel better about our impact on this planet. All our self-loathing could be expunged by a constant regiment of minimal corporal punishment, eating tree bark. Just like in other religions, I gathered, suffering was beautiful to them. I looked around and it was working; they were all so beautiful in their conviction. I threw my arms around Stephen in a supportive hug and the Grape-Nuts fell.
[..]
"Oh, I almost forgot. I brought everyone gifts!" I ran back to my trunk and pulled out a box of books and started passing them around. "I'm hoping we can adopt it kind of as our own bible."
"The Lorax by Dr. Suess?"
"It's got a good message we can all get behind. Also, it's short and there're pictures. After we're done here we can all go up in my balloon and read it together!"
A term which - in my household - must always be accompanied by the suffix douchebag...
Behold the hipster, the stylishly disaffected breed of twentysomethings whose fog of twee whimsy envelops Williamsburg and the East Village. Most who encounter the hipster in its natural habitat respond in one of two ways: derision or ridicule.
But science does not cast judgment. Its goal is to explore and explain dispassionately, whether the object of study be the noble eagle or the lowly nematode. So what does science have to tell us about this fascinatingly misunderstood breed, the indigenous North American hipster?
Alas, not enough to make them cool or interesting.
But it does add an interesting look into the falacy of individualism that infects all so-called rebels...
The deeper irony is that those who try to assert their independence from the commodification of identity wind up tapping into another marketplace myth, what the authors call "the myth of consumer sovereignty." This is the idea that by assiduously selecting from all the identity markers available for purchase, a person can assemble one that authentically reflects their true self independent of the marketplace. Some of the hipsters that Arsel and Thompson talked to are well aware of the futility of this project. Said one, identified as "Tom":
I don't necessarily know every single weird obscure band. I don't necessarily want to. But I mean, yeah, who do I hang out with? I hang out with like a bunch of tattooed indie dorks. So, yeah, I guess I am but I wouldn't self-identify, I think. I'd listen to stuff that's outside the mainstream or it's like I dress weird compared to the majority of the population. I just try not to think about it too much. The minute you start identifying with a subculture... you kind of lose individuality, surrender part of your identity, and we don't wanna do that.
Which can be extended as a rebuttal to all those idiots who dress like gangsters and then complain when people suspect them of being gansters. You don't wear your pant waist down to your knees because it's comfortable. You wear it that way because you want your peers to regard you as a badass, not to be messed with.
As a consequence, if the rest of us -- the squares -- also regard you as a badass, but not in the good way, well, wish granted. Lump it.
This has to be the highest-profile effort to bring Wonder Woman to television: One of TV's best-known creators, The Practice's David E. Kelley, has come on board to write and produce a new series project about the female superhero. The project, from Warner Bros. Television where Kelley is based, and Warner Bros.' DC Entertainment, will be taken out to the networks shortly. Kelley, who has created several female-centered shows, most notably Ally McBeal, had been interested in tackling a contemporary take on the World War II-era Amazon. He recently met with the DC team who also have been looking for ways to launch a new Wonder Woman TV franchise.
...And I just went back to my natural red...sheesh!
As a black man, it bothers me when white people avert their gaze too quickly or give some other indication that they're nervous, but not in the way you'd think. I feel GUILTY for making them nervous, like it was my fault, or something. Any advice?
