What would Freud say?

Bullet wounds? That can’t be good. And why do I have custard in my pockets? Never mind about that for the moment, just get to safety. Over there; that huge Japanese stadium. The penguins won’t be able to attack me there.

***
My dreams are fucking weird.

I think the problem is that I love mushrooms. A logical argument, you agree? Before you dial the number for the nuthouse to have me sectioned, I’ll inform you that mushrooms contain a toxin that causes you to have strange dreams.

Not so crazy now, am I. You can shove that derisory look up your fucking ass!

Ahem, my apologies. Anyway, I went to the local pub last night with a dear friend when we began talking about our dreams. She listed the events in her dream, to which I responded with a clinician’s ‘mmm hmm’. The truth is I was a little concerned, not for her but for myself. She thought that this was a weird dream. And for her, it may very well have been. Compared with my dreams, though, it was rather pedestrian, sane and lucid.

I started thinking about the dream I began describing above. I was in Japan for reasons that elude me, when I entered a stadium only to find a 100m long sea amoeba in the heart of the arena. The Emperor of Japan (I assume he was the Emperor, anyway) meandered out to the middle of a platform that was overlooking the arena and clapped his hands twice, at which point hundreds of trained penguins emerged from the dressing rooms and proceeded to collect eggs from the sea amoeba and put them into old jam jars.

I just re-read that paragraph. Holy snapping duckshit!

I think when I had that particular dream, it was after I had been watching some very abstract Terry Gilliam style movie, most likely ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’. Those of you who have seen this movie can probably relate to the pseudo-stoned feeling that it gives you. Especially towards the end where the Vegas trip turns into a huge clusterfuck, and Duke (Johnny Depp) hallucinates that Dr. Gonzo (Benicio del Toro) has grown hairy tits on his back.

“Beautiful fucking tits!”

Nota Bene: I was going to write a closing paragraph, but I think that quote sums everything up quite nicely.

Europeans do it all the time

So here I am. It’s New Years Eve, and I’m standing completely naked in the middle of a street in an unfamiliar part of town. How did I get here? I don’t mean physically because I know exactly how I got here; umpteen gallons of alcohol. How did I allow myself to sink this low?

*****
The truth is I’ve indulged in public nudity more times than I care to admit. New Years Eve was a great example. I was sensationally drunk and easily manipulated by the suggestions of my friends.

‘Hey Jeff....nudie run?’

‘….yeah alright.’

Ah, the humble nudie run. The inevitable last stop before being thrown into the watch house after a night of drinking. Its popularity has waned in recent times. It is no longer seen as the light hearted, whimsical misadventure it used to be. These days, people won’t even acknowledge your daring foray into public indecency. Such was the situation on New Years Eve. My friend and I disrobed and made our way to the street, chins up, chests out. Everything was going pretty well until we heard a car roar to life from behind us. I dare say the occupants of the car would have been able to see my ass clench and tighten as they turned the car on. Suffice it to say, I was alarmed.

I turned on my heel and made a mad dash for the house. My friend didn’t, however. He was enjoying his walk, so there was no way he’d be hurried along by some sanctimonious upstart, what with his car and pants and dignity. The shameless nomad eventually returned, got dressed and suggested that we go say hello to the people in the car. Hell, why not. It’s New Years! We did exactly that and were very surprised to find that they were a couple of the loveliest people we had ever met. We wished each other a Happy New Year, then went our separate ways.

On another occasion, I was completing a job for one of my previous employers in the oxygen-thief city of Ipswich. The uniform I was required to wear consisted of long trousers, boots and a thick shirt. It was stiflingly hot, exacerbated by the fact that Ipswich seemed to be ¾ of a mile from the Sun. I was driving home in my non-air-conditioned car when I spat the dummy and decided it was too hot. Just beyond the limits of the city, I pulled over to the side of the road in a quiet residential area. There was nobody around, so I stepped out of the car and, screened off to some degree by my door, took my pants off. My shirt was already off, so if it weren’t for my jocks I would have been completely naked. The gentle kiss of the Summer breeze felt good on my skin, so I stood there a little longer to enjoy it. I then saw a small boy riding toward me on his bike. Me, wearing nothing but jocks and a dopey grin. Words cannot describe the look of confusion and fear that was on his face.

A unique moment, I thought.

I waved to the boy. He did not wave back.

You see, I fancy myself as something of a revolutionary, like Guy Fawkes but without the stupid hat. I refuse to be censored by sentinels of vice and virtue and will continue to fight oppression in all its forms, especially the subjugation of public nudity. I encourage you, dear reader, to do the same. Next time you’re up to your tits in alcohol, throw your caution and inhibitions to the wind, take your clothes off and march proudly down the street. Declare to the world ‘I will not be silenced!’ and, if you’re a girl, ‘It’s fine for you to ogle my pink bits!’ If you do this, Guy Fawkes’ death will not have been in vain.

I farked arp

Today I was teaching my students equivalent fractions visually using shapes. One student (let's call him Nigel) disrupted the class a few times by playing with the eraser, talking to his peers and not paying attention to anything I was saying. I asked Nigel to write his name on the board and talk to me after class (Apparentely this is the ultimate badass punishment, kids shudder at the thought of their name written on the board).



I built up my rage to tell Nigel off after class to ensure he doesn't fuck up my shit again. I mentally prepared everything I was going to say:

What did you do? [check]
Why did you do it? [check]
What behavioural value should you be implementing? [check]
Inevitable badass time-consuming Punishment [check]

The bell rang, I saw Nigel with his head hanging down at the ground hoping I wasn't going to work his kidneys with my powerful discipline. I asked him to tell me what he did wrong [He answered correctly]. I asked him why he took the time to disturb my lesson instead of paying attention [He told me]. I asked him what behavioural value he should have been using [He answered respect correctly]. In the middle of this I realised that maybe I shouldn't punish him with a write out. I mean sure he fucked up my lesson, but it's monday [I'm a nice guy and chicks love me], he can prove himself to be a more respectful student for the rest of the week. So I explained to him that I expect him to improve his behaviour and that I'll be watching him with my eagle eyes. I told him that I was going to rub his name off the board....except something terrible happened...I choked....My voice dropped a bit and I stopped mid-sentence at the WORST possible place.

"Now Nigel I'm going to rub you off [......a long 3 second pause........] the board"

Immediately I panicked and quickly paraphrased everything I had said before and dismissed him within 5-10 seconds. I was terrified and in hysterics at the same time. My teacher asked what was so funny....thankfully I was smart enough to tell her that I made a weird noise when I coughed when I disciplined Nigel....she bought it.

But I bet you the feds won't

21

The Good:

The story. It's a highly interesting concept and I've always enjoyed card games and the idea of cheating at gambling. The fact that it's (loosely) based on a true story made it that much more appealing.

The Bad (some minor spoilers if you really care):

The story. It's interesting, but they totally butchered it. Pacing is terrible and it's like they took the most cliche synopsis they could find and threw the idea of counting cards into it. He's a rough outline of the love plot. Highly original. Loser nerd wants the girl (who is of course the most popular girl in college). Loser nerd joins team girl is on. Loser nerd makes move on girl. Loser nerd gets rejected by girl. Loser nerd becomes whoever he wants (because it's vegas durr) and girl becomes attracted to nerd. Loser nerd gets girl. Loser nerd becomes arrogant and pushes girl away. Loser nerd gets everything taken away and is humbled. Girl loves loser nerd again for who he is.

The script. Honestly one of the worst I've ever seen. There were at least 5 seperate occassions where I found myself laughing out loud. I remember one time was when our hero confronts his old mentor friend through a story that ran parallel to the movie's plot. Cause that's never been done before...

The acting. Very average. Even Spacey (who I love) did a terrible job in this one. He didn't have much to work with, but that doesn't really excuse him. I can't think of a good movie he's been in in the last few years... real shame.

The Bad:

The whole movie. Good for a laugh, but very disappointing as a movie.

3.5/10

Trouble in paradise

Now I like to stress that I'm not that dirty of a person. However I do enjoy talking about subjects that are not socially acceptable. However I say fuck it, I'm writing a whole blog on taking a shit. Everyone does it, so why can't I talk about it, why is it a taboo subject? why should I be single and miserable?

I can name at least 3 people who have taken a shit in their lifetime.








.....And I bet you any money it smells like death!

I enjoy taking dump and you should too. It's probably one of the highlights of my day. It's very relaxing rewarding, it's like getting a massage or a haircut from a hot busty asian. However there are a few hazards involved with this pleasure that can ruin my day.

1. The runny shit/pellets - You can feel it brewing up into your stomach. You know it's going to be a massacre but you just can't hide from it. This one shoots out so fast and loud that you're left with a connundrum whether you should use toilet paper to mask the sound or let it splash.

2. The unwipeable- I always regret this one. It always seems to happen to me when I've got something important to do. I was at work in the loo once where my boss kept calling me over the P.A. I would have packed up my shit (no pun intended) and left the bathroom if it wasn't my bowels fighting against me. I just kept wiping and wiping, the texture seemed to get thicker and wetter, it was fucked! You can't explain this hazard too. When I told the boss I was in the bathroom, she said: 'go sooner next time'. Little that she knows I was in there for 15 minutes! Be careful with this one!

3. The traveller- This is the one where when you're finished laying some cable, the stains end up in other areas around your asshole. Sometimes it'll travel as far as your buttcheeks. It's uncanny and surreal that no one was ever able to explain. Until now:

My theory (Using crude drawings)

(Note: The view is looking up from inside the toilet bowl. It might take a few minutes to understand what's happening in each picture)

The toilet bowl is designed for comfort as well as stability.



When you first sit on the seat, the bowl rims on either side help spread your ass cheeks apart. This is to ensure that the feces doesn't stain your asshole or cheeks during the duration of the dump.



But sometimes you will shift. This creates a butterfly paint picture effect (pictured) Where your ass cheeks come together and smudge feces from different points on your cheeks.











Sometimes when wiping you might help push/transport the feces to different areas, so you need to be careful with your wiping.

It's an art, it's hard to master.

So when you're in the bathroom again, enjoy it while it lasts. Because you never know when these hazards will hit you.

A grand day out.

It had been a while since I'd visited home and since the previous day was Mother's Day I felt it would be nice if I were to drop by and see mum and dad and the rest of my family. I'd made myself a deal the previous night that I would wake up early and call a tattoo place I know was on the way to see if they had time that afternoon for me to get something done. I wanted the afternoon because mum wasn't home till 5 and I really had nothing else planned for the day. Well, it turns out they didn't have time that afternoon, they did however have time in an hour. So, after a split second decision I had a shower, got dressed and drove halfway between my house and that of my family's.

I had to park around the corner because the front only had half-hour parking. I gathered my stuff from the car and walked into the tattoo place I'd only ever been in once before. That time I went in to see if they had time to do it, but the thought of doing it the next day was somewhat overwhelming. After ringing the bell a couple of times, someone finally came down; a very pretty girl with a slight, very nice british accent. So in my mind she was hot. After showing her the design I wanted she was curious about 2 things. The first was how she could get it to the right size, as it was on an A4 sheet of paper, and 2 was why I wanted those particular stars, as they weren't that common. I asked her if she knew Sonic the Hedgehog and her eyes lit up. Not only did she know it, but she loved it, and she immediately recognised the sign. In fact me coming into the shop got her so excited she started asking so many questions about games, and levels and I think she was more excited than me. After settling down and agreeing on the size, she copied the picture onto my arm and I layed down so she could get to work. After some chit-chat and stuff while she did her thing she told me she was done and I was ready to go. Lo and behold:

The Sonic symbol for invincibility!



After leaving the tatto place I was a bit excited and I knew my next stop; haircut. So I set out and drove towards mum's place because I was going to get it done at the place I used to go to. I arrived and my heart sank, as the guy I don't like was there waiting for me. I sat down while he finished up with someone else and started flipping through on of the haircut books they have. Surprisingly, I found one that I wanted, and so was a bit excited that I might actually be happy with a haircut for once. It was my turn, so I stood up and showed him the picture and let him know I wanted it short all over with a bit of a fringe, because I've always hated my head when there's no fringe. I got my fringe. However the rest was not what I wanted, so for the first time ever, I actually told him to do it again. I'd always chickened out of doing it and left the hairdressers embarassed and sad. Not today! I got him to make tha back shorter, and despite his protest of "But your neck will be cold" I told him to continue. I made a good choice.

After my haircut, it was time for mum's place. I knew she wouldn't be there for a few hours, but I'd brought a movie to watch so I knew I'd be ok. I got home, set up a laptop to check emails and stuff, turn on the tv, and Jesus H. Christ, Die hard with a Vengeance was on! Best fucking action movie ever! I was the happiest kid in the world at that moment. And it will go down as one of the best days ever.

After Die Hard I later masturbated and watched Southland Tales, so it kind of went downhill after that, but meh, Southland tales got me angry about how fucking stupid it was. So that's something to be happy about.

I'm a sook.

I hate it when my facial hair reaches the point of ‘suspicious pedophile’. It really damages my delicate sensibilities when people riding on a full bus will elect to stand up rather than sit next to me. Mind you, given the caliber of freaks who choke the public transport systems, it’s probably for the best anyway.

You see, I haven’t really had much of a chance to shave. I know that sounds like a silly statement, but it’s true. I have to choose a time to shave that will allow my skin sufficient time to recover from pernicious bleeding before interacting with other people. And you see, I had a fairly busy (read: drunk) weekend, so I didn’t have a chance to do it then.

I therefore decided to shave tonight. Standard procedure, really; Have shower to soften facial hair, stand completely naked in front of sink, perform ass-clenching exercises for 5 minutes, apply shaving cream (to face) and proceed to shave with appropriate implement. As mentioned above, I bleed quite a bit when I shave. Nothing unusual there. The trouble arises when I’m finished shaving and I have to cauterise the open wounds.

I, as most gentlemen I know, use a moderately priced aftershave to accomplish this (Calvin Klein Obsession, now $38.95 for 75mL. Take advantage of the savings!). I do the same dance every time. I splash my face with this pleasant smelling caustic acid, go temporarily blind from the searing pain and then carry on with my day. Not tonight though. Sweet mother of penis, it was painful tonight. I don’t understand why. I think perhaps my skin was extra sensitive because I hadn’t shaved in over a week. Whatever the case, I seriously considered asking someone to kick me in the balls to take my mind off the pain. It was just that painful.

Crotch-grabbingly painful.

On a somewhat related note, I invented a new expletive phrase tonight. As I was cursing the various Gods during my painful facial torture, I uttered the words ‘ass-troubling thunderfuck’. Please feel free to use this at your discretion.

It’s all thanks to a little Yes-I-Can-nabis.

Weed.

Who among us has never tried it? It’s the logical step to take after excessive binge drinking but before ecstasy. Though government departments and scientific research will try to convince you that it was forged by Satan and it makes you rape women and carry on like a lumbering fool, it really is quite a harmless way to spend an evening. With drink prices taking a leap towards outrageous, it makes sense to simply stay home and roll a spliff. In fact, I think society would benefit from adopting this line of thought. Your options on a Saturday night are as follows:

1. I could go out and paint the town red. However, I’ll have to get dressed up in jeans and a collared shirt. If I want to drink, I’ll have to arrange for alternative transport. If I’m going to take a taxi, I’ll have to be prepared to get fingered on the fare. And what about the actual drinks? If I’ve gone to all of this trouble to get into the city, I would be a fool not to drink. I’ll have to be prepared to pay perhaps $7 for basic spirits. Will this be an expensive night out? All signs point to yes.
2. I could stay home, invite a friend over and have a couple of cones. I wouldn’t have to dress up, rather I would be wearing comfortable ‘stay at home’ gear, which usually constitutes some sort of flannelette shirt and fleecy pants. I would have to be prepared to laugh my ass off at the most insipid shit, and start musing about how Star Wars could have been better. And if I’m sensible, I can get many nights of fun out of $50 worth of weed.

That certainly is a tough decision. I’ve found myself in the middle of this quandary on a few occasions. I chose option 2 on all those occasions.

I usually like to plan how I’m going to spend my drug induced stupor. It makes sense to me that, since my motor skills and judgment will be greatly diminished while under the influence, I should set everything up before embarking on my trip through time. This is exactly what Sam and I did around July last year. We thought of everything. The food we would eat, the comedies we would watch, the music we would mellow out to… We had our entire night planned with clockwork precision.

It seems funny, then, that upon the execution of this plan everything turned to shit very quickly. We inhaled from the buckets (because we’re hard as fuck), and everything sort of started to unwind and come undone. Sam started coughing violently. I was concerned. He said everything was fine. I was no longer concerned. We both went inside where I sat down on the couch and put The Simpsons on. I have never in my life laughed as hard as I did that day, watching the episode where Willie kills the children in their dreams. When Martin Prince had his sleep time fantasy about being a wizard with ‘one million hit points and maximum charisma’, I lost it. I was laughing for about half an hour before I realised that Sam had been absent the entire time. I was concerned once more. I went up the stairs looking for him when I discovered that he had been in the shower the entire time, possibly crying and clawing at the bugs under his skin. Something is amiss here, I had thought. It wasn’t until I read his transcribed thoughts asking ‘Why am I doing this?’ and announcing ‘I’m dying!’ that I realised that my dear friend was having a bad trip.

I managed to lure him down the stairs to a cosy position in front of the television. The Simpsons was still playing, and it was just what the doctor ordered. Sam, now calm and lucid, was able to look back over the whole thing and laugh.

And now, I invite you to do the same.

Laugh.

………at Sam.

A tribute of sorts.

‘A stone is not a gem without polishing, nor is a boy a man without trials’ (Lao Tzu – Xian Dynasty).

A poignant proverb, I believe. It describes its country of origin quite succinctly as well. China has had a long and colourful past. It has seen its fair share of trials, beginning when the first dynastic emperor, Qi, unified the warring states of the region. China lead the ancient world with its science and discoveries, giving us paper, gunpowder, the compass and the printed word. It is the world’s oldest continuous civilization and its dialect is the world’s oldest written language system.

It’s no wonder, then, that China was selected to host the 2008 Olympic Games. With such a vast and vivid history steeped in tradition, China will show the world that the same dedication and drive that gave us the leading technologies of six millennia has been called into service to give us the best Olympic Games in history.

In the spirit of fellowship and camaraderie, Sam and I have combined our creative might to write a tribute to the Chinese people through the majesty of song. It’s a haunting rendition of a Cantonese chant, accented with Buddhist rhythms and the laughter of a small boy (we wanted to capture the innocence of the Chinese people). And the lyrics? They are difficult to interpret, but you may hear ‘You humble me with your honour’. If Asian cinema has taught us anything, it’s that oriental women will accept men into their homes upon promises of vengeance and honour, hence the lyrics.

It’s a beautiful ballad of unity and kinship, one which may be adopted by the People’s Republic of China for their national anthem. Only time will tell. But don’t be surprised if you hear this song being played at the Olympics.

My Iron Man theatre experience with Jeff

Movie - 8/10

Theatre - 1/10

Inside... French people are messed up.

So horror is a pleasure of mine. I enjoy watching people get cut up and destroyed in creative over the top ways. It's just me... Messed up maybe, but it's good fun. When I heard about this movie Inside about a pregnant chick who gets haunted by some other chick I immediately thought "Yes! The movie Juno should have been!". I read a couple reviews and they're all saying things like how it's the best horror movie of the decade and how violent yet scary the movie is... I'm getting pretty excited now. So I got Sam to download it. He got the wrong version (i.e. the dubbed version, not subtitled...) but that's cool, I appreciate it still.

Watched it. And here's my thoughts.

The Good:
- The ending is one of the most violent things I've ever seen. Seriously messed up shit. No holds barred maniac stuff. I'm not gonna say the ending, but it was messed.
- The plot. A pregnant chick getting haunted by another chick. That's a pretty complex plot for a horror movie.
- The filming. It looked great. Very dark and doomy, very stylish.
- It's French. Let's face it, the French are good.

The Bad:
- The killer chick. She was not menacing or scary at all. Probably the slowest killer I've ever seen that wasn't a zombie. Could easily have killed the victim at least four times throughout the movie.
- The soundtrack. Loud, ambient noise is NOT scary when it's used for 70 minutes in an 80 minute movie.
- The acting in general. Considering the horrific situation everyone was very calm and no one seemed worried at all. "What's that? A chick is getting brutally tortured by another chick? Oh well... let me just finish smoking this cigarette then I'll get right on it..."

The Ugly:
- The dubbing. Seriously laughable. I've never dubbed a movie before, but seriously, can it really be that hard to make it sound realistic? Incredibly cheesy voices. Very unfortunate. The movie would probably be a lot better with subtitles. The overall quality still wasn't great, but the dubbing took away a lot.
- The script. It's bad. Really bad... Great idea, poorly implemented. I've never seen so many characters making so many bad choices in a row. If this movie was supposed to be realistic in anyway the French must be real dumbasses.

Overall, I feel the movie took itself way too seriously. All the negative could be positive if it were done tongue in cheek like most horror movies. But no, it was serious. And I just couldn't really take it seriously. Yes it's brutal, but even some horror movies push the suspension of disbelief thing way too far.

6/10

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!

Top 3 lead singers who like fighting people

I'm aware that there are more singers out there who like beating on their fans. I just can't be fucked.


#3
Jay Reatard (Teehee)

This man has a cult following amongst his fans with his punk/garage rock music. I'd also like to say what you're all thinking - that he has a hilariously pun-errific name. He is known for beating on his fans who jump on stage. Rightfully so, he can't rock out if there's some drunk jumping around next to you!

Jay Reatard punching kid at the Silver Dollar

Unfortunately in this video you can't see the kids 'I can't believe I'm standing beside my hero' grinning face before impact.





#2

Brian Jonestown Massacre

I like this band, they've written some fine tunes. I'd also like to add that I think their band name is incredibly clever. However the lead singer Anton Newcombe is a complete wreck. Not only he taunts and patronises his audience, but he beats them up too.

Anton telling his guitarist to shut up



Anton kicking man in face (from the fantastic documentary DiG)

He has also announced Australian dates!

27th in Brisbane @ The Arena
29th in Sydney @ The Metro
30th in Melbourne @ The Hi-Fi Bar

I'm there!


#1

GG ALLIN

This man takes the cake!
Not only his music sucks, but he punishes his fans because of it. A normal gig would involve Allin defecating on stage, rolling in feces, eating it, throwing it at the audience, cutting himself up, taunting people from the audience to perform fellatio on him, beating up his audience, sometimes at the same time.



This man is so insane that his funeral itself was a wild party. Friends would pose with the corpse as well as place drugs and whiskey into his mouth. His antics will always be remembered, but not his music.


GG Allin fighting people, eating and smearing his own feces on himself while singing his fan favourite 'Bite it You Scum'

What's for dinner?

Why I like Nicolas Cage

This man is a genius full stop. Why you ask? Because he's badass and he knows it.
Take the last 6 movies he's made, that's right 6! A normal actor may have 1 or 2 bad movies in their catalogue but 6 consecutive bad movies? That's a skill!

You've got National Treasure 2, Next, Ghost Rider, Wickerman, World trade Centre
and the ant bully. Why would any actor pick these movies? Money? Desperation?
Yes, possibly but the way I see it, Nicolas Cage does it because he is The Cage!
He does whatever the fuck he wants because he doesn't give a shit about anyone else.

Here are some of the countless reasons why Nicolas Cage is awesome:

Exhibit A:

He was born Nicolas Kim Coppola where he changed his last name to Cage inspired by the Marvel Comics character Luke Cage, a streetwise superhero.



He made the right choice. It is pretty badass


Exhibit B:

The Wickerman

Why would anyone want to do a film like this, considering the script was horrendous to begin with?
Anyone who actually sat through it can all agree that he turned this movie into something quite special. It's in the Batman and Robin level of unintentional brilliance.
Dialogue ranging from 'No not the bees, Arghh my eyes argh my eyes!" and "No not my legs! Argh my legs!" is undeniably genius. Plus he wails on not 1, not 2 but 3 women! He makes a fantastic bad movie! He knows it!




Take this video as an example:

Top 10 moments

It is also evident that the man clearly cannot run. That's badass.


Exhibit C:

Ghost Rider

If I was offered to be Ghost Rider in a movie I'd jump right on it, and I'm sure most of you out there would too. But you know a movie is going to be bad if it is going to be directed by the man who made Daredevil. However The Cage is not bothered by this, he purposely hams up the performance with cheesy lines and acting.



If you think I'm basing this all on assumptions, why would anyone act like this and think it's good?

Ghost Rider Transformation


He knows he's in a bad movie and he makes it enjoyable for the rest of us.


Exhibit D:

Why does everyone love Samuel L Jackson?
Is it because he's black?
Or is it because he eats up every scene he's in no matter how bad or good the movie is. The correct answer is all of the above.



I'm going to put this one out there and say that I think Nicolas Cage is the white Samuel L Jackson. Both actors have both fantastic and shockingly bad movies. Come to think of it apart from Pulp Fiction and Die hard 3, I personally believe that Nicolas Cage has starred in better films overall than Samuel L Jackson. I find Nicolas Cages brilliance much more subtle. An example of this is Samuel L Jackson yells in pretty much every movie while Nicolas Cage has little subtle moments as presented in the top 10 moments of Wickerman. Now I'm not saying I like The Cage more than Samuel. I believe that Nicolas has a place in the so bad it's good level of actors. I believe that both have completely different strengths in engaging their fans.



Lets look at a quick, vague rundown at their filmography:


Samuel L Jackson:

Good - Pulp Fiction, Unbreakable, Die Hard 3, Black Snake Moan

Bad - The Man, xXx 1 and 2, S.W.A.T, Basic, Farce of the Penguins, Deep Blue Sea


Nicolas Cage:

Good - Adaptation, Bringing out the dead, Lord of War, The Weatherman, Leaving Las Vegas (most of his earlier films)...

Bad - Most of his later ones

Both have great and terrible films, while Pulp Fiction is the best film out of all the movies listed. It should be noted that Nicolas Cage has the fantastically well written and acted Adaptation and Bringing out the dead.

Exhibit E:

Clearly the man is taking the piss. There is no other reason why they chose him to do this. It's because the man does not take himself seriously. He is damn brilliant!

Werewolf Women of the SS


I'm not forcing anyone to like him, if you hate him, you hate him. I still stand by that The Cage has subtle brilliance presented in both great and terrible films.

And if you're not convinced yet

His next film:



Nuff said.

High Jinks at QUT

I had a very strange day at Uni a couple of weeks back. The events of the day were covered in a milky haze as the affects of the previous night’s rip-roaring drunken stupor slowly dissipated. Much to my surprise, however, I didn’t wake up with a hangover in the morning. Instead, some of my cognitive faculties were not quite functioning at full capacity. This would have been fine had I stayed home for the day, but I didn’t. The first interesting encounter happened in my very first lecture. I was sitting there, listening to the lecturer as he crapped on about his meandering experiences in a quiet, monosyllabic tone. At this point, the stooge sitting next to me whose name I did not catch, and who I have no desire to ever meet again, whispered a joke in my direction. It was a particularly poor joke, but rather than simply telling him “mate that wasn’t funny” I felt I had to appease him with a subtle fake laugh. I’m normally very good at this, but because my mind was a little hazy I misjudged how loud I was and blurted a very loud, rather boisterous “ha-HA!!” at him.

The lecturer paused.

I heard girls at the back of the room giggling about the ‘retard who can’t keep quiet’.

The stooge didn’t talk to me again….so, mission accomplished.

The second interesting encounter was in the library directly after this lecture. I was checking my emails (I had none) and checking to see if I had any new MySpace comments (I didn’t), when a friend of a friend snuck up behind me and scared nine shades of shit out of me. He was meant to attend the abovementioned night of drinking but couldn’t make it because he had to work. He wanted me to tell him who was there, and I happily obliged.

“Adam, Jacinta, Lee…” I said, “…oh and Lucy. She’s got big tits.”

Perhaps I should explain. I had intended to say the last part in a facetious way. Though it is true, and Lucy does have big tits, I said it for a laugh. Did I say it in a facetious way, I hear you ask? No. Rather I said it in the way a sexual predator would speak of his next victim. The trouble was that my mind was a little hazy and I didn’t say it with a smile or a giggle that would ordinarily signal that it was a joke. Instead, we stood in silence, looking at each other and hoping for someone else to fart loudly to divert our attention away from the present discomfort.

Later, while walking down a narrow walkway, I was reflecting on the ‘library ordeal’ when the third interesting encounter occurred. I thought the whole thing was kinda funny in hindsight and I was having a giggle to myself about it all. My eyes were fixed on the ground while I was walking along the walkway, so people wouldn’t think I was some kind of weirdo who was laughing for no foreseeable reason. I stave off many a queer look that way. I then felt that I should probably look where I was going so I didn’t end up ass over tit. I was still visibly and audibly tickled about something as my eyes met with those of the girl who was walking in the opposite direction. Imagine my discomfort when I discover that the girl has a gumby leg and is lumbering at me with the poise and grace of a smoko-lady who was chewing Minties with her arse. My heart sank, and evidently, hers did too. She gave me a look that asked “You’re laughing at a disabled person?” and then exclaimed “You monster!”

I didn’t try to explain myself for fear of blurting out something about big tits. I just kept walking.

Clearly, I have to drink more often.

The best games we'll never play. (Assuming we wanted to)

Right Here!

I didn't read all of them, but the ones I'd heard of I read about. Also, I agree that Duke Nukem Forever is now officially a joke. The should release what they have and change it so instead of war sounds, it's filled with sound effects from Looney Tunes cartoons. Gaming Gold!

OMG!

OMG guys! We're actually doing it! We're gonna concur the Internetz with our amazing blog posting skills. I now have even more reasons to stay away from human contact and put my assignments on hold.

Those of you reading... prepare yourself for elitism in its purist form (i.e. Sam) and reviews dripping with sarcasm and an "I'm cooler than you" attitude.

Oh, hello there....

Hello and welcome, gentle reader, to the internet sensation that is ‘Man Date’. It was created, or so the tale goes, when the Universe was in its infancy as a means of spreading knowledge and wisdom throughout the realms. Forbidden during the Dark Ages and driven into obscurity, it was resurrected when the Archangel, Gabriel, heralded its arrival into the modern era.

Today, ‘Man Date’ continues its vehement dedication to stimulate the minds and awaken the senses of those who read it. It is with great regret, however, that I inform you that the contributing authors are perhaps the most infantile group of people this side of the loony bin. It sickens me to think that in this modern day and age, people like us are permitted to spew forth their insidious dribble across the internet where it may corrupt and defile the most innocent and gifted of minds.

But we won’t let a silly thing like mass stupification stand in the way of our true nature and purpose.

Mario Kart wii

Sam:

So I'm a fairly big Mario Kart fan ever since I played it as a child on the snes. I remember playing with my brother, I'd always pick toad (I think he's badass, but apparentely fucking gay according to jeff). We'd have mountains of fun but it'd always end up in tears as one of us would pull the game controller cords out in frustration. Two nights ago I hired out Mario Kart on wii and experienced the same frustration, except no one pulled the cords out on me this time.

Everything is pretty much the same except it feels like Nintendo have invented new colours to fill up the screen, it's gay but it looks great. The new tracks are inventive with multiple routes except there is not enough to discover, most of them are a little obvious. One of the biggest problems with the game lies with the single player mode, it requires no skill at all. If you're having the best race of your life with no faults, you will probably come 2nd or even 8th due to a fucking blue shell striking you. There is no possible way to escape these weapons, it all comes down to luck rather than skill.

The biggest flaw however is Donkey Kong no longer sounds like Donkey Kong! He sounds like a mentally handicapped man with down syndrome and cerebral palsy with aids. It's an insult to the fans and an insult to me!

7/10


Phil:

It's fantastic to have a brand new Mario Kart game to play. I was a bit wary of the remake of tracks, but when I think back to it MK 64 only had 16 tracks all up. Wii has 32, 16 of which are new. There are new weapons like Bullet Bill, which does the driving for you, and also the Pow box which will annoy the shit of every other driver. The old weapons are exactly the same, which is great, because if there's one thing video game makers should know, it's not to mess with a good thing.

The new tracks fit in perfectly with the Mario Kart world, from bouncing mushrooms to water slides, every track has hidden traps and problems just to mess with your head. It took me a while to get used to the driving styles, especially with the Wii Wheel (the worst style imo), I find myself just settling for the wii-mote and nunchuk. The way they add insult to injury when you're first trying the game is to make the AI characters, worse than Peach on level 9 Smash Bros Melee (That whore). Every other kart is seriously trying to kill you no holds barred. So basically, don't play it while you're grumpy or tired unless you know you're gonna win just so you can smack the other players around. All in all a great addition to the franchise.

9/10

Andrew:

Ever since the dawn of time man has enjoyed two things more than any other. Holding a dinner plate between his hands and pretending he is a racecar driver and playing Mario Kart. The thrill of looking in the mirror and practicing your racecar driver face was priceless. The thrill of beating your friends at a video game about plumbers and apes named Donkey racing each other is unbeatable. So when these two things mix to give us Mario Kart wii you would believe it to be the best thing EVER… right?

Unfortunately not. The game is great fun for about half an hour. Then it gets a bit tedious. It’s still fun, just not amazing. Now granted I didn’t play it for long, but I can tell it’s a game I would get sick of very very quickly. I can’t really explain why though. I mean, it has more tracks and more weapons… You can choose between motorbikes, karts, buggies etc… but somehow it lost its charm.

I dunno… Maybe I’ve just grown up and wouldn’t really find the old Mario Kart games as fun anymore either. I’ll play it again one day and maybe it will grow on me more.

6/10

Jeff:

I’ll begin with the score I gave the game.

2/10

I will now elaborate.

Mario Kart has adorned the shelves of video game enthusiasts since its inception into the Nintendo line-up some 16 years ago. It has become a brand, an institution. And rightly so. Mario Kart was revolutionary when it was first unleashed on unsuspecting consumers. It has since, however, stagnated and become as tired and predictable as a David Letterman/Jay Leno hybrid, fuelled by an indomitable lust for profits and the desire to rape our culture. Its premise is unevolved, its graphics have not improved and yet its fan base has not diminished. This strikes me as odd. For a game that shows a total lack of imagination and innovation, it still maintains its death grip on its initial clientele.

Very odd indeed.

I get the fascination with driving around in a heavily weaponised vehicle, blowing the crap out of the competition while hurtling towards the finish line. It’s brilliant. But where other games of a similar nature have updated and re-invented themselves, Mario Kart wii has not. I’m speaking about games such as Twisted Metal, Vigilante, Interstate ’76, etc. Though these games are old and relatively unknown these days, they all managed to develop new and better ways of delivering the thrill of vehicular combat to you.

I feel that I should mention that I respect the status and the unwavering devotion to Mario Kart shown by its fans, but for me, playing it was as painful as an ulcerated circumcision….not that I know what that feels like (says Jeff, applying ointment to his penis).