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Friday, February 25, 2005
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The current president of the American Library Association is apparently none too fond of blogs:
"Blog People (or their subclass who are interested in computers and the glorification of information) have a fanatical belief in the transforming power of digitization and a consequent horror of, and contempt for, heretics who do not share that belief... Given the quality of the writing in the blogs I have seen, I doubt that many of the Blog People are in the habit of sustained reading of complex texts. It is entirely possible that their intellectual needs are met by an accumulation of random facts and paragraphs."
I'd be laughing if it didn't hit so close to home.....
Morgan 2:31 PM [+]
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Monday, February 21, 2005
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The news today is almost unbearably sad.
I can't remember the exact quote, which is strangley appropriate, but in a letter to the Clintons over the suicide of Vince Foster, HST once wrote something like:
"I know what it's like to have a piece of you ripped off and sent screaming into the void"
indeed.
RIP Hunter S Thompson. I wish it didn't feel like the screwheads are winning.
Morgan 5:33 PM [+]
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Monday, February 14, 2005
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So, I guess if you're reading this, you've already read that Sheri got to celebrate V-day by getting laid off. (Actually if you're reading this it's probably two months from now and you're all "I can't believe he finally updated!") Well, I don't have much to say about that other than that her boss was, is, and shall always be a raging dickmonster. So it sucks that she has to look for a job and we may be drinking Ballantine's instead of Guiness for a while, but at least Sheri get's to look for a job that doesn't make her insane. That's worth something.
In other news, when Paul moved, he threw us a bunch of books that he didn't want to keep. That's always a bonus for me because I can never afford to buy enough books to keep up with my insomnia. But one of them is was the autobiography of Ken Russell. You probably know him from Altered States or Tommy. Both great films, but I always think of his film The Devils with Oliver Reed as the priest accused by the sexually obsessive nun and tortured by the inquisition for sins of the flesh. Really, everybody should see this film when they're sexually confused. Not because it will help, it won't, it'll hurt. But because a little extra confusion probably is better in the long run at that point.
Okay, I'm a little drunk right now, but I know this is fucked up. This guy was just on the daily show who wrote this book Trawler. And he brought a chunk of a hagfish in a jar wrapped in his boxer shorts and dropped it on Jon Stewarts desk. I think I need to read this book.
Coming soon:
Actual news about the actual album my actual band is actually going to release!
Morgan 11:32 PM [+]
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Monday, February 07, 2005
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Uwe Boll.....
I'd like to enlist somebody's help in ending the career of Uwe Boll. In fact, I'd like not to just end it, but usurp it. I'd like to have his job. I've always been of the opinion that I probably wouldn't be a good film director, but surely I could do a better job than Uwe Boll. In fact retarded monkeys with screws in their eyeballs could probably do a better job than Uwe Boll. Failing taking his job, maybe I could just have his money. If anyone wants to help me take all his money, I'll split it with them. Hell, we could give it all to the American Cancer society or the Society to Help People Hump Inanimate Objects. Anything would be better than to let him have it.
Wait, wait. Who's Uwe Boll? Right, I got ahead of myself. To understand how much I hate this freak, you have to understand a little about what's happened to Hollywood. In the last 50 years the huckster sociopaths who used to run studios were slowly replaced by sociopaths who had gone to business school. Now I'm not trying to make a case that the likes of David Selznick were the best things that ever happened to the movies. They weren't. Those old studio bosses were vain, short-sighted, and had very little vision. But there was degree of showmanship that they all were proud to carry. A certain enchantment that allowed them, and extension occasionally us, to believe that even when they were churning out crap, it was great crap. This new breed of studio head brought a realization that as a business, glamour wasn't increasing the bottom line.
So, over time, a lot of mediocre minds with great connections and an MBA have applied themselves to the formula which will guarantee a huge return. Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be one. And studios really, really need those releases. Studios are a bit like venture capital firms in that they fund a bunch of projects knowing that each one is a longshot, but that one can be reasonably expected to hit paydirt. The difference is that in the movie industry the 'failures' are the ones that only make a couple mil. The successes are the ones that bring in sums so staggeringly huge that it justifies the horrific sums of money these people get paid. Because it's okay to buy a solid gold jet staffed by hookers when you wrote the checks that got "The Mummy Returns" made.
So without a clear way to measure what will work, and a need to justify the mindless spending that happens around these things, these folks have resorted to the age old tactic of not trying anything new. When making movies from popular books didn't really work, they took it to the absurd with the recent mania for remakes. It seems like about a third of the movies that came out last year and about half of the ones that are coming out this year are remakes of older movies. We end up with the totally bizarre situation of having a big-name actor with two concurrently running movies that are both remakes of earlier films (Denzel Washington in Man on Fire and Manchurian Candidate). It's like the studio heads got sick of coming up with new titles for the same old potboilers rehashed with better special effects. That and I think they get to pay writers less for rewrites (though not actors).
So in the midst of all this circle-jerkerey, some genius said: "You know what the kids like? They like those video games! With the aliens and the shooting! We should make movies out of those!" That way they get to go to meetings with the accountants and show graphs about 'Market Penetration' and other porn-sounding things that don't mean shit to the final product. But what does it matter anyway, because they only need one of these crap fests to hit big and it justifies all the other excrement that they've been producing all year.
Which brings us back to Uwe Boll. After directing a few straight to video slasher flicks, Mr. Boll was hired to direct the movie adaptation of House of the Dead. For those of you who see too much sunlight, House of the Dead was one of those games where you pick up a toy gun and pretend to shoot zombies who are coming straight at you. Apparently, this level of plot was a little too much for Uwe Boll to comprehend. To say the movie version of House of the Dead was bad would be kind of damning since you'd have to admit to remembering it. Even the lame-ass plot and wooden voice acting of the arcade game is more memorable to me than the movie. I think there was an island... and some teenagers... and a house....
Anyway, despite the fact that it sucked like Paris Hilton, he got another job. Making another movie based on a video game. And apparently it's even worse. He's managed to get the extremely not coveted one percent at Rotten Tomatoes. Even Showgirls did better than that. Christ, even Roger Ebert's pick for the most offensive movie of all time did better than that. But that hasn't stopped wise Hollywood investors from putting up the money for old Uwe to make three more video game movies!
Uwe Boll, who is being compared to Ed Wood in really, really unflattering terms, is going to be a multi-millionaire out of making the worst movies the world has ever seen. How the hell is that fair? If I was as bad at my job as he is at his, my computer would erupt in flames and smoke every time I touched the keyboard. And if my luck was like his I'd get a raise and a new office every time I reduced my computer to slag. Really, the state of Uwe Boll's career is a pretty good argument for the existence of supernatural powers. I really can't help but think he has sacrificed his soul to some warty-penised demon in exchange for the ability to lay a steaming turd and get patted on the back for it.
Morgan 4:22 PM [+]
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Monday, January 31, 2005
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So on Thu I went back to Mars. (For the first journey, look here) Of course it was all I remembered, and a bag of fries. Apparently the gravity on Mars is low enough that I can drink 5 pints without the usual arm cramp. Kat's pal Mike was with us, and in the spirit of a big 'ol blog circle jerk, I'm going to link to his entry about it that links to here. I think the real highlight of that night was the sign behind our booth that said 'Do not block the lighing effects with personal items"
Now presumably, that was to keep your coat from catching on fire and killing everyone in a cascade of melty styrofoam like some kind of epcot center pompeii. But the wording of the thing just kept cracking me up. Like 'lighting effects'. What's wrong with 'lights'. I know some of them are red and sparkly and shit, but that doesn't make you the goddam Picasso of lights. The only effect most of the lights there have is to, you know, cast light. Hardly special. And then 'personal items'. Apparently, if I'm not personally attached to the item, it's really irrelevant whether or not it blocks your precious effect, or burns us all to death. I was half tempted to stuff a bunch of napkins into one and point out that you can hardly get more impersonal than a bar napkin. The fact that the alchohol soaked into the napkins would probably catch alight and mix with the burning styrofoam to make homemade napalm is the only thing that held me back.
Okay, so that was Thu. On Fri I met Sheri at the Grassroots for some happy hour action. The Grassroots is almost as cheap as Mars and so much cooler I can't even begin to explain. Let's just say that there's no styrofoam at the grassroots. Except maybe in the popcorn. From there we went to this cool little Burmese restaraunt on 7th that was tasty and unbelievably cheap. From there straight to Daddy's and more likkering up.
So by Sat morning I was hungover and beat up and tired. Which was great because we had volunteered to drive Sat night for Right Rides. Let me say that I totally support Right Rides and I really feel good about driving for them because Oriah and Consuelo who started it hardly ever get a Saturday off. Plus I'm kind of a lazy bastard and the whole 'let's give something back' mentality is at least a novelty for me. But oog, going into it hongover was bad news. Luckily, by the time we actually had to drive I was fairly rested and recovered. We were pretty busy, but the people were really nice and with the exception of a couple weird calls that didn't pan out, pretty normal. This is the second time we've done it and both times it feels weird to stay up until 5 in the morning without drinking. Really, when's the last time you did that? I think I was 19.
Also, yesterday we taped Live Girls played on Nickelodeon so I'll post a video of it this week. Or maybe I'll just link to it on their site. Whatever.
Anyway, I'm still getting drink posts below, which is great because I think we're going to have a 'bring your invented drinks' party soon. Details as the haze begins to clear.
Morgan 1:31 PM [+]
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Thursday, January 27, 2005
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Are covers done in a totally different style intersting? just funny? stupid? I don't know.
And I sure don't know what to make of this. (warning mp3 link, probably nsfw without headphones)
Oh and if you liked that you'll like this.
(Btw, it's by that chick who used to be in Veruca Salt. You know, her.
Morgan 1:39 PM [+]
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Sunday, January 23, 2005
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I haven't blogged in a real, real, long time. And that's for two reasons. One, Sheri got Sims two, and every time I try to get near the computer, she growls like a mama bear with twelve cubs seeing a fur truck pull up. Two, it has something to do with my response to stress.
Ya see, in emotional makeup I am much like our friend the turtle. When bad things happen I tend to pull innwards, to protect my soft center. The only difference between me and our pal turtle is that I usually try drag a bottle of whiskey in with me. I guess only Sea Tortises do that, but they like Pina Coladas.
The bad thing of course, has been Sheri's eye worries. You can read her blog for all the details but the upshot is that we thought she was going to need a cornea transplant and now she probably won't. So, Sheri, being much more together about this whole thing than me, read constantly, got in contact with doctors and people who had had transplants, and tried to get as many opions as possible. Me, I read about the cornea transplant procedure, started new games on every xbox title I have, and tried to stay drunk enough that I could sleep through the dreams of leering docotors wielding melon ballers over my wife's sweet face.
Now I'm not going to suggest that this was harder on me than her, that would be truly stupid. But there's something really fucked about sitting around watching somebody you love be in that kind of situation. It's at least true that when the problem is your own, you can do some things about it. At the very least you can be in charge of how you're going to react to it. When it's somebody you care about, pretty much all you can do is hang out and figure out what they need. Not that that's bad, it's just a little, well, it makes you feel powerless. Needless to say, if I could have torn my eye out and given it to Sheri so she didn't have to go through surgery I'd have done it. But that's not what helps. What helps is just being supportive. It's just that that's really hard.
Well, enough of that. I'm going to go uncharted territory for me here. I know that hardly anybody reads this because after all, I'm like a were-blogger. I only leave comments on the full moon. But if you're reading this and you've invented a drink, I'd like you to leave the recipie. My pal Chris invented the Santa's Beard, which was really tasty (Chris, if you read this, leave the recipie, man). But that got me thinking about drinks I have invented. So here's the ones from me to start it out.
The Lime Incest (name inspired by a Serge Gainsbourg song, I swear)
1 shot cointreau
1/2 shot key lime juice (or juice of half lime)
throw both over ice, stir and fill with seltzer.
The Zapata
This is basically a screwdriver with seltzer and a shot of tabasco. I invented it for my stepdad when I was 8. Oddly enough, it's really good. (He actually suggested the name)
Sunrise on the Bog
Vodka and Grape soda.
(I invented this when I was fourteen and we ran out of orange juice for Zapatas.)
Okay, that's all I got for now. Anybody else?
Morgan 11:38 PM [+]
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