Snakes on the Brain

When my kids ask me when Snakes on a Plane hit its cultural zenith,
I'll tell them that it was when they did a tv specuak on pedophiles.
In order to catch society's sickest sexual deviants, they had adults
pose as children. One of the handles for a 13 year old sex pot was
"Snakes on a Girl". Cultural significance at its finest.

Not much else to say about the flick until I see it with Stephen and
company this evening. I had a dream about the movie last night.
Instead of being about Snakes on a Plane, it was about Snakes on a Bus
in Outerspace! It was sorta like Speed meets Snakes on a Plane...in
outer space. The calm cool collected bus driver helped passengers
fight planet sized snakes with staying on schedule. If there's any
justice in the world, this will be the plot of the sequel.

Post your thoughts about the movie here. Everyone knows you'll see it tonight.

Joementum

Remember "Joementum"? It was a mythical energy force that was
supposed to propel the frog voiced Lieberman to presidential victory a
couple years ago. He had an amazing plan to harnice this strange
force live on Fox tv. The would be to appear naked on Hannity on
Colmes. How he'd do this without distrupting the show is a mystery to
me, honestly. After that, he'd stretch the sagging fat under his
arms, affectionately nicked named "water wings" into fleshy bat wings.
He'd then invoke the rites of the Ancient Demonocrats to bless him
with the Spirit of the Vote. Unholy engery would then fill the
studio, lifting him into the air and he'd escape the studio. Flying
through the air, an ancient 600 year old dinosaur, voters would feel
compell to leave their homes so that they could view the spectacle.
His liver spots would bloom, and out of them a vote enducing
psychoactive would excrete from the beautifl holes. From the heavens
a mist would descend to God's favoured nation and Lieberman would
guarentee his place in presidental history. His muppet like face
would feed on the blood of fat babies. He'd shit tax breaks for the
rich. Terrorism would be a thing of the past. If it wasn't for the
true instrument of evil, Ned Lamont we'd be living in a perfect
world. Alas, poor Joe. Alas, poor us.

Miwako Takabe is still easily one of the most beautiful women that I know.

Sequelitis

I had a dream last night about the Marvel universe, Ghost Rider, in
particular. Acording to my dream, the bike that Ghost Rider drive is
a top seller there. In my wake filled state, this seems to make a lot
of sense. I'm suprised that no one has addressed it,

The direct to DVD industry is licking the asshole of Disney and finds
that they like what they taste. Shelves are filled with almost decade
old sequels to movies that did boffo in the rental market. Do you
think that the cinema going public were clamouring for a sequel to 8mm
or Starship Troopers? Wait, don't answer that, I fear I shall be
ashamed by your answers. Newest to this ever growing pantheon of
direct to DVD sequels that, no doubt, are superior to the the
originals, is Like Mike 2. I saw Like Mike a billion years ago.
Seeing the flick caused God's head to explode. Our universe is holy
brain guts, spread from Cosmic Centre to Cosmic End, all because of
this flick. I didn't bother to do anything besides look at the
package, but I have no doubt that the sequel is the story of the first
told again for a new generation of children whose lives missed the
magic of the original. Alas, I was hoping that the shoes in the
sequel would be worn by a present day Bow Wow and would turn out to be
the shoes of Michael Jackson. The climax of the film would be him be
him raping all the members of the orphanage followed by his marriage
to a pill popping starlet. Do this, and you can pave the stree in
million dollar bills. The people clamour for it.

Saskatoon soundwave

It's hot and greasy here in Saskatoon. By the end of the day, your
body gets so slick with perpsiration that you slide down the street
lubricated in people sweat. I haven't been in a city this hot since I
lived in Fredericton. It's fucking unreal how hot it is.

My brother has been walking around sporting an erection for the last
three days.
"My cock quivers for Mstrkrft", he tells us. I have learned about
this band through nerd osmosis. They are the sticky musical offspring
of Death From Above 1979 and Girlsareshort, and I mean this in the
most literal sense. I've listened to them and I have concluded that
this bad is OK, but nothing spectacular. Christopher is adament that
they will kickass.
"Our ears must bask in their soundsphere!" Plans made,we're seeing
them this evening. I cross my fingers and hope that they delight my
earholes.

Documentaries from the dreamscapes

The pillships that run the electrical storms in my brain have shrunk.
Instead of exploding in my stomach, polinating my head with horrible
dreams, they slowly disolve and dull my senses. My head's now in
London and I see the world through slow motion fog.

When you dream, what do you dream about? I dream about Hong Kong in
the 1980s. Tong B Boys harrass a young Amercian reporter slaving away
on a book about Chinese crime. She sends me the letters. She writes
of how the men treat their women, with degrading cruelty. Because
it's a dream, she can write her letters at any time, no matter how
inconvinient it is for her. For example, how many people can write a
desriptive letter while they're being raped? i'm guess that the
numbers are few. But I'm no expert.

Listen. They begin by kidnapping her on the way back to her house,
stuffing her mouth with a drug filled rag. Senses are dulled and
passes out. Whe wakes up in a warehouse, location: undisclosed
She's surrounded by hundreds of men, each wanting to have their turn
with her. Her bed is an old matress, covered in a newspaper that
soaks up semen and blood. Somehow, in between men, she documents the
events in typical journalistic objectivity. When the men are
finished, they peel off her skin. It comes off, layer by layer, in
paper thin sheets, nerve endings dangling like shoe laces. The more
adventerous men tear holes in her musclture and fuck it. Other men,
cook her flesh and eat it. The room starts to smeel like burned ham.
They cut out her clitoris and auction it to the highest bidder. It
too, is eaten. An eye is removed and her socket is fucked. A man
pills out his cock after completion, his penis covered in semen, blood
and eye juice. They kill her after that. She signs her letter in
blood, expressing regret about not knowing what they'll do with her
corspe. It doesn't take that much imagination to guess what they'd
do.

I've dreamt about this for months. Details change, but the crux is
the same. It's this reaspm that I've opted tochange my head pills

Doubting Thomas

Our lizard eyed Prime Minister expelled some poison from his venom sacks to the Canadian press corps this week. Suckling on the teat of the Republican party, our new government has decided that Canadian reporters have to sign a paper requesting the ability to question the PM instead of the traditional way of reporters asking in the order they arrive. Harper, whole being interviewed for a radiocast verbally shat on the press saying that they had a definate liberal bias.
"WE must change this so system so that the message gets out without filtration," he said, before unhinging his lower awy and inhaling a live pig. Undetered, the Canadian media shaved their testicals, shorn and waxed them and dangled them in heavy defiance by boycotting the PM's briefings. The CBC, wanting to address the issue, reaninmated decagenariain Helen Thomas long enough for her to comment on the situation.
"Thre press' job isn't to be well liked," her ghostly voiced coughed, "It's job is to antagonize power. If the prime minister odesn't like the question, he can't always say "no comment". A leader of a decomcrazy is answererable to the people and that's what we do." After the program, she once again returned to her grave beneath the Washington monument.

the Unhealthy X-Men

After the near record breaking opening weekend of X-Men 3:the Last Stand, I have no doubt in my homo sapien brain that Brett Ratner is furiously masturbating on a pile of hundred dollar bills while Jackie Chan fists him with Wolverine claws. Cash, semen and KY Jelly, this is the smell of Hollywood sucess.



X-Men 3: the Last Stand? More like I can't stand this shit. Instead of the movie being a metaphor for how oppressed gays, blacks, jews are, they've turned the flick into a typical Hollywood actioner. After noted homosexualist Bryan Singer left to do Superman, the powers that be decided to choose Wolverine cosplayer Brett Ratner to direct tge movie. Have you ever wanted to see a movie where Colin Powell leaves president, dresses up like a leather daddy and rips people apart? That's what you'll get when you see Kelsey Grammar as Hank McCoy. The more I think about it, the more Beast sounds like John Macain. Lets vote Republican in 2008.


Do you like Hugh Jackman's nipples? In X-Men 3, they're as hard as adamantium. There was a scene in the movie where my sexuality was questioned where he used his totally masculine areolas to carve Jean Grey a statue out of clay. Art sooths the dark Pheonix. Glorious Canadian art.

There's this guy called Bobby Drake in this movie. He's quite skilled at looking slightly confused. Wouldn't you be confused when your love interest who is 19 looks like she barely entered puberty? X-fans, you my masturbate without guilt when you see Kitty Pride in her leather suit. I digress. Bobboy Drake's alias is Iceman and yet he's not allowed to fly the plane. Does this make sense in the post Top Gun world. The answer is a sad shake of the head.

How gay is Ian Mackellen in the new X-flick? Not as gay as he was in X2. Although both he and Professor X argue like old lovers when they meet Jean Grey at the beginning of the movie, there's no super queer moments like him giggling like a school girl and lisping to Rogue, "I love what you've done with your hair." Bring back Fagneto.

The Juggernaut. He's unstoppable until stopped by Shadowcat. And did we need to change him from a black pimp into a lovable cockney footballer?
"Oi oi! I'm the Juggernaut, you twat! Me bollocks are so large!"

The circle of knives

It's 3:11 and I can't sleep thanks to the miracle of life. My dad, feeling his biological clock ticking for the fourth time has decided to birth chickens again. This is how the process works. You get a bunch of fertilized eggs from the coop, this time, forty, put them in an incubator, monitor the temperature and wait for nature to work its magic. The downside is that incubators are cold mercless machines, cold merciless machines incapable of love. This lack of love is responsible for killing off many an egg. Out of the batch of 40 eggs, only 16 of them developed into fetuses, or whatever you call half formed chicks. The rest: breakfast.

Have you ever made eggs and toast and had a little bit of blood in your egg? Imagine doing that, but cracking the egg and having a dead psuedo chicken come out. IT's the best of both worlds, really. You get the runny flavour of an egg plus the delicious texture of a chicken. Advantage of these chickens: small bones! You just bite into their small bodies with a satisfying crunch. Also: the eyes aren't fully formed, so you don't have to pull them out. Bonus: chickenbrains! Oh yeah!

But I digress. Just like most men, the little pecker is up bright and early. Right now I can hear it's amazing struggle trying to break it's way out of the egg. Its kempf has been going on since 10 last night and I wouldn't be suprised it it continues until 10 this morning. But my sleep, like Andy Serkis' cock ring, is precious and I need it as a porn star needs it. Why can't chickens be scientologists? For the love that is all thetan, why?

The Da Vinci Load of Shit

My brother Simon and his Itallian girlfriend, Illainia, both ardent Catholics are going to join with the local chapter of the Catholic League to protest the premier of the DaVinci Code this evening. The Catholic Church is worried that the message of the film with create more instability within the church and its followers. Being a Catholic, I'm privy to some of the reasons why we should avoid the film on theocratic grounds.

-The film postulates that Da Vinci would ejaculate into his inks and used the tainted art material to create his finest works. Many men who see DaVinci's works, such as the Mona Lisa have felt compelled to engage in various homosexual acts because of this. No doubt a method for Da Vinci to create more homosexualists.

-Acording to the film and the book, if you move up up, then down down then left right, left right, then hit the B Button and then the A button before pressing start, you'll be granted 30 lives. This is in direct contrast witht the Catholic Church that says that we have only one life and can "continue" into the next through acceptance of Jesus Christ, our savior, who died on the cross for our sins.

-The film suggests that the earth rotates around the sun. This is preposterous. The truth is that the sun and the stars revolve around the earth. Another scientific note is that lava comes from hell and that eruptions happen when there's an overcrowding in Hell. AFter the release of the book, there has been more eruptions than ever recorded in human history. It's quite possible that the release of the film might cause the Rockies to return to their volcanic state in the next 30 years as viewers of the film begin to die off.

Mighty Joe Young

I've been sent to the bush with the brothers Gladyz for the last three weeks. Tim every day; Joesph, Mondays

Wednesdays and Fridays. Sweating's not bad, my face drips with filth like an ugly icecream cone by the end of the

day. When Joe Gladyz sweats, he smells like old fruit and oil. It's rancid. He doesn't expire liquid, he expells

muck. Tim takes it in stride and so, in the efforts on making our well lubricated work machine run smooth, I've

ignored Joe's problem. That's until he stopped going to work. his brother Tim told me that Joe's been progressively getting worse. For the last couple of weeks, his stomach has started to bloat, distending

to strange proportions. The way that he describes it, when he's naked, Joe looks like a starving African child, except, you know, white. Joe went to the hospital earlier and it turns out that there was a hole in his stomach. That bloating and the smell were caused, from what I understand, from rotting food stuck in the area between the food sack and his skin. The situation is so dire that he's going to have to get a stomache transplant, an incredibly rare procedure. Tim and I have been crossing our fingers for a fatality in the next couple of days so that Joe can get back into the work force. Failing that, Joe'll have to be sent off to Calgary where U of C students have been working on transplanting cow stomaches to human ones. No one is sure if the operation will be sucessfull, but you have to try somewhere. Willful ignorance only gets you so far

Google notebook

When I first heard about Google Notebook, everyone speculated that it would be google's answer to del.icio.us albeit with a quicker search function. With the program's release yesterday, I found out that assesment is partially true. Like del.icio.us, you can bookmark pages and allow them to be searched online using user made taxonomies (bet you haven't heard that word thrown around that often. Horrah for Web 2.0 and New Slang), however it lacks the non-hierarcal structure of classifiying info, or in del.cio.us' case, tags which makes del.icio.us so appealing. I find google's decision not to do that to be a tad boggling since gmail's label system is so useful. On the other hand, google notebook is much more friendly when it comes to reseach. Notebook allows you to add tremendous amounts of notes to a topic that you're working on without having to link the information to a website. Also, notebook allows you to add a much larger description of the site, or note, than del.cio.us. I find del.icio.us to be pretty limited because often I find that I want just a snippet of the website quoted in the description field and it's often too large and gets cut off. Notebook allows you to bookmark images and shows them when you go to your notebook's page, something that I wish that del.icious would do. If google allows the ability to add multiple tags to each website as well storing the page's website, like Furl does, it'll be a del.icio.us killer. Until then, I'll be using del.icio.us for bookmarking and most likely be using notebook for heavy research.

BrassEye on youtube

Thanks to youtube's lax enforcement of copyright laws, you can check out the ultra controversial pedophile episode of BrassEye. What's BrassEye? It's a politcal satire in the same vein as the Daily Show mixed with celebrity interviews that predated Ali G. The humour is as black as coal, but you can't help but to laugh at the audacity of the stuff that they pulled off. Anyhow, check it out and see what you think.

Part 1
Part 2
Classified under:BrassEye,

Weirdness with T.Rex

T.rex has infected everything. A couple of weeks ago, Mike sends me the Breakfast on Pluto trailer, which makes the little girl inside me shriek because Cillian Murphy (aka Killian Murphy if you've seen Red Eye) runs around in a tress, but it makes the man inside me growl because of the trailer music. Crunchy guitars, sexy violins, men sound like bats' screaching falseto. Children of the Revolution by T.Rex. The music tongues my ear hole and it turns me on. So I go searching for glam rock. The results, like some weird shit by ELO turns my interest flaccid. But T.Rex is still gold. Whoosh! It's the present and I'm reading the Engine and Matt Fraction says that the new Flaming Lips albums sounds like T.Rex. I figure that the album is released and I check out their website. No dice, it's coming out in April. They do tack about the album and said that they were inspired by Devendra Banhart. I check that out, only to find that one of his albums was inspired by T.Rez. Odd how things went full circle.
Classified under:music,