As per usual, I have nothing to say, because it's Monday and raining and I have work. Also, the news is almost aggressively depressing, like MSNBC's new slogan is: Because Suicide Means Our Numbers Go Up! or something equally banal.
Speaking of banal, crying at the end of a manipulative, badly-made, soulless movie like Marley & Me is a fail. Having to actually leave the building in which the movie is playing because you are so upset is a MASSIVE, ENDLESS FAIL. Jennifer Anniston is in it, for fuck's sake. Do you know how SHAMEFUL that is? Not that I cried, or anything. How dare you impugn my honor and good name with such slanderous bullshit?
* This is depressing. Like, endlessly depressing. Who went and saw this movie?! I want names and addresses, so that I can go to their houses and LECTURE them, because come ON. It's a movie about cars. Don't give me any crap about plot. It's about the cars. And while they are very sexy cars, and I wouldn't mind lying on the hood of one or two of them, THIS DOES NOT WARRANT NUMBER 1 AT THE BOX OFFICE. IT DID BETTER THAN WATCHMEN. You people make me SICK. I hate movies now. Movies, and puppies.
* This is a really fascinating article about secret identities in superheroes, and the nature thereof.
* I finished my reread of Watchmen last night (and by 'reread' I mean, 'I have read this book so many freaking times that I have chunks memorized') and the ending still upsets me terribly. SPOILER ALERT ahead, although if you've been reading this blog AT ALL you should know every plot aspect of the comic by now. I mean, Rorschach DIES, horribly, and it's AWFUL and SAD, and NOBODY mentions him. Oh, yeah, Jon and Adrian are all 'He didn't understand.' 'Don't worry he's not getting to civilization, IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN BECAUSE HE'S EXPLODED NOW.' But otherwise, nobody mentions him. Does Dan actually think Rorschach WALKED back to New York from Antarctica? Or rode his little scooter? And even if this was physically possible, as his ONLY REAL FRIEND, don't you have an obligation to try to talk him out of it, or stop him, or FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED?! I'm sorry, this makes me shouty. And forgive me Alan Moore (for this, as well as the titles of my blog entries as of late), but I do like that in the movie, Dan at least SEES and REACTS to Rorschach's demise. AT LEAST SOMEBODY NOTICES AND GIVES A SHIT.
Um, END OF SPOILERS AND PSYCHOTIC YELLING. Now I'm reading The Fountainhead, because people on the internet told me I had to because of my tattoo, and the internet is always right. Always.
* I am apparently writing the wrong kind of blog, because so far Russell Brand is not leaving me erotic comments. Neither is Edward Norton. Life is cruel.
* Yet another depressing thing. SOME MOVIES DO NOT NEED SEQUELS. Ghostbusters II sucked. This does not bode well for a third installment. And the first one was so good it doesn't NEED any more sequels. Just let it be enjoyed for the good, scary fun it is.
* I do not understand technology enough NOT to be terrified by batteries that run on my sweet, sweet blood.
* There is a condom you spray on. For girls. Meaning you spray a nanocondom INTO your unmentionables. This is never, ever OK. A guy asks you to do this, spray the shit in his eyes. Then steal his wallet and go to Vegas.
That's all, for now.
- LV
PS Per usual, the title of this blog entry is a bastardization of the wisdom found HERE.
Speaking of banal, crying at the end of a manipulative, badly-made, soulless movie like Marley & Me is a fail. Having to actually leave the building in which the movie is playing because you are so upset is a MASSIVE, ENDLESS FAIL. Jennifer Anniston is in it, for fuck's sake. Do you know how SHAMEFUL that is? Not that I cried, or anything. How dare you impugn my honor and good name with such slanderous bullshit?
* This is depressing. Like, endlessly depressing. Who went and saw this movie?! I want names and addresses, so that I can go to their houses and LECTURE them, because come ON. It's a movie about cars. Don't give me any crap about plot. It's about the cars. And while they are very sexy cars, and I wouldn't mind lying on the hood of one or two of them, THIS DOES NOT WARRANT NUMBER 1 AT THE BOX OFFICE. IT DID BETTER THAN WATCHMEN. You people make me SICK. I hate movies now. Movies, and puppies.
* This is a really fascinating article about secret identities in superheroes, and the nature thereof.
* I finished my reread of Watchmen last night (and by 'reread' I mean, 'I have read this book so many freaking times that I have chunks memorized') and the ending still upsets me terribly. SPOILER ALERT ahead, although if you've been reading this blog AT ALL you should know every plot aspect of the comic by now. I mean, Rorschach DIES, horribly, and it's AWFUL and SAD, and NOBODY mentions him. Oh, yeah, Jon and Adrian are all 'He didn't understand.' 'Don't worry he's not getting to civilization, IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN BECAUSE HE'S EXPLODED NOW.' But otherwise, nobody mentions him. Does Dan actually think Rorschach WALKED back to New York from Antarctica? Or rode his little scooter? And even if this was physically possible, as his ONLY REAL FRIEND, don't you have an obligation to try to talk him out of it, or stop him, or FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED?! I'm sorry, this makes me shouty. And forgive me Alan Moore (for this, as well as the titles of my blog entries as of late), but I do like that in the movie, Dan at least SEES and REACTS to Rorschach's demise. AT LEAST SOMEBODY NOTICES AND GIVES A SHIT.
Um, END OF SPOILERS AND PSYCHOTIC YELLING. Now I'm reading The Fountainhead, because people on the internet told me I had to because of my tattoo, and the internet is always right. Always.
* I am apparently writing the wrong kind of blog, because so far Russell Brand is not leaving me erotic comments. Neither is Edward Norton. Life is cruel.
* Yet another depressing thing. SOME MOVIES DO NOT NEED SEQUELS. Ghostbusters II sucked. This does not bode well for a third installment. And the first one was so good it doesn't NEED any more sequels. Just let it be enjoyed for the good, scary fun it is.
* I do not understand technology enough NOT to be terrified by batteries that run on my sweet, sweet blood.
* There is a condom you spray on. For girls. Meaning you spray a nanocondom INTO your unmentionables. This is never, ever OK. A guy asks you to do this, spray the shit in his eyes. Then steal his wallet and go to Vegas.
That's all, for now.
- LV
PS Per usual, the title of this blog entry is a bastardization of the wisdom found HERE.
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