I've decided that if I ever need to go underground, assuming a new identity, I want my new name to be "Big McLarge-Huge."
"Punch Rockgroin" comes in a close second.
I think I've brought it up before, but if you haven't seen the greatest movie review ever done, I most highly recommend the seven-part brutally funny takedown of George Lucas' Star Wars: Episode 1 - The Phantom Menace.
"Brutal" is an understatement.
"Funny" doesn't come close to describing it.
And Language Warning should not be ignored by the sensitive.
While scanning channels yesterday, I noticed that the movie was airing on basic cable, so on a lark I recorded it, and watched it after work.
It had been several years since I'd seen it. Holy cow, it really is awful. The creator of the above review could easily have gone another hour shredding the idiocy of the script (written by an eight-year-old, indeed) characters and action ("Infantry tactics? Never heard of them.") not to mention some of the ludicrous design elements. I literally laughed out loud at some of the inane things gracing the screen that hadn't been detailed in the review.
Two words: Midichlorian conception.
Fortunately, my time wasn't completely wasted. I spent the duration of the movie working on my ship model and making good progress at it; details soon.
Do be sure to watch the review above in its entirety, all seven parts. Set aside a hour or so — it'll be worth the time.
You'll never again be able to watch the movie without thinking "What is wrong with your face?"
Jeremy Clarkson may be best known to Americans as the host of Top Gear, which can be seen on BBC America.
Aside: I'm not a car guy by any means, yet I record and watch Top Gear almost religiously — it's simply terrific television. Some segments seem to me to be among the best pieces of filmmaking ever produced for television. I am particularly taken with this segment featuring Top Gear co-host James May taking the Bugatti Veyron out for a spin:
I really do think that's among the best pieces of TV filmmaking ever produced.
OK, back to the point here. Clarkson may be best known for Top Gear, but he made his bones, so to speak, as a journalist, and continues to write a column for the Times of London. If I had to compare him to anyone here in the US, it might be Dave Berry... but Clarkson is, to my way of thinking, a far better writer.
As an added bonus, he is that rarity: an European who actually delights in not being politically correct. That alone makes him worth a read.
In one of my favorite columns, Clarkson addresses the H-bomb of the kitchen, hot sauce, and in the process delivers several shots to one of his favorite targets, the nanny state.
Unfortunately, we live in a world where everything comes with a warning notice. Railings. Vacuum cleaners. Energy drinks. My quad bike has so many stickers warning me of decapitation, death and impalement that they become a nonsensical blur.
The result is simple. We know these labels are drawn up to protect the manufacturer legally, should you decide one day to insert a vacuum-cleaner pipe up your bottom, or to try to remove your eye with a teaspoon. So we ignore them. They are meaningless. One drop at a time! Use extreme caution! On a sauce. Pah. Plainly it was just American lawyer twaddle.
No, it wasn't twaddle.
Read on, and enjoy: Help, quick — I've unscrewed the top on a ticking bomb.
As a further aside, I'd like to note that my birthday is coming up in three months. If anyone would like to get me a Veyron to mark the occasion, I wouldn't complain. I believe one can be had for approximately $1.7 million. Three months ought to be enough time, no?
Addendum: Clarkson would probably disdain and reject the label of "European" — he is English. I'd concur.
Four men — an Engineer, an Accountant, a Chemist, and a Government Employee — were bragging about how smart their cats were.
To show off, the Engineer called his cat, "T-square, do your stuff."
T-square pranced over to the desk, took out some paper and pen and promptly drew a circle, a square, and a triangle.
Everyone agreed that was pretty smart, but the Accountant said his cat could do better. He called his cat and said, "Spreadsheet, do your stuff."
Spreadsheet went out to the kitchen and returned with a dozen cookies. He divided them into 4 equal piles of 3 cookies.
Everyone agreed that was pretty good, but the Chemist said his cat could do even better. He called his cat and said, "Measure, do your stuff."
Measure got up, walked to the fridge, took out a quart of milk, got a 10 ounce glass from the cupboard and poured exactly 8 ounces into the glass without spilling a drop.
Everyone agreed that was pretty good indeed.
Then the three men turned to the Government Employee and said, "What can your cat do?"
The Government Employee called his big fat cat and said, "Coffee Break, do your stuff."
Coffee Break jumped to his feet, ate the cookies, drank the milk, crapped on the paper, screwed the other three cats, claimed he injured his back while doing so, filed a grievance report for unsafe working conditions, put in for Workers Compensation, and went home for the rest of the day on sick leave.
As Mætenloch says over at Ace of Spades HQ,
Everyone should watch it once. But only a fool watches it twice. You have been warned.
I'm only putting it here for your viewing "pleasure." I've already seen it, while I was on convalescent leave after surgury two years ago. I think it delayed my recovery.
The mere memory of it makes me want to scrub my eyeballs.
Hitler's rants from the film Downfall have been fodder for hundreds of parodies.
My first-ever shot at making a humorous* video is a bit topical. I wondered last night how long it would be before someone did this... then reasoned that perhaps I ought to do it myself. It made for a longish evening.
So here goes.
I'm guessing they will end up out of the bunker and under the bus.
* Assuming one defines "humorous" broadly.
Update, 21Oct09: Philadelphia... LOL.
South Carolina governor Mark Sanford, as everyone now knows, is back at home and work, after a mysterious disappearance of several days' duration. He claims to have had an affair.
I have an alternate theory.
Politicians can be outed as being gay, they can be busted on video doing drugs, they can be nailed in bribery scandals, they can even be caught having extramarital affairs... and yet all of these are politically survivable.*
But for a politician of any stripe with presidential aspirations, there's one thing that would be the kiss of death, and it would explain why he would claim to have had an affair:
Bear with me here. Think about it... what do we know about aliens?
1) They prefer kidnapping people from the South; given the incidence of abductions, their eventual nabbing of a sitting governor rather than a one-tooth-havin' moonshiner is a statistical certainty.
2) The governor flew in from Argentina. Aliens are notoriously inconsiderate as to where they drop off their abductees, so it's not entirely unanticipated that they might drop off the Governor somewhere away from home. He should count himself lucky that they dropped him in the Western hemisphere.
3) The most commonly reported aliens are known as "greys." Where better for them to pick up a human than the birthplace of the Confederacy, South Carolina? Confederate uniforms were — you guessed it — grey.
It makes perfect sense.
Any politician claiming to have been abducted by aliens can kiss his presidential hopes, and perhaps his entire career, goodbye.† Compared to that, marital infidelity can be thought of as an astute political move.
* Especially if you're a Democrat — the press has your back.
† Except for Dennis Kucinich and Ron Paul.
[This post brought to you by the Andrew Sullivan School of Journalism. Prove me wrong.]
What can possibly explain the music videos of the '80s?
Drugs. Had to have been lots of drugs.
Wait, no... that was the "literal version" of Bonnie Tyler's Total Eclipse of the Heart — I've been LOLing over it since I saw it last week.
It's a good song, maybe even a great song, but forever mockable for its hyper-clichéd video. Which also, coincidentally, can be explained by drugs.
And for my brother, here's the literal version of Tears For Fears' Head Over Heels. Awesome.
Despite what you may have thought, Movies Are Your Best Entertainment Value. Just ask Iowahawk, writing at Big Hollywood.
I haven't seen any numbers, but I'm willing to wager that the biggest hits of 2008 were decidedly not anti-American/anti-military, while the biggest flops were.
If you get an e-mail titled "Nude Photos of Sarah Palin" in the subject line, do not open it. It might contain a virus.
If you get an e-mail titled, "Nude Photos of Hillary Clinton" in the subject line, do not open it. It might contain nude photos of Hillary Clinton.
Jackie and Dunlap discuss Sarah Palin.
"At the very least he prevented a grateful nation from having to learn anything at all about Tim Pawlenty." That's funny right there. (No offense to Gov. Pawlenty, of course.)
I made it through my teen years in the 1970s with only minor leisure suit contamination. If anyone — my Mom, for instance — claims to have photographic proof, there will be harsh consequences... unless the photos and negatives are destroyed forthwith. Seriously. I don't need to re-live that particular powder blue nightmare.
Pretty much says it all. The "subsidiary of Homoco" is a nice touch.
Q: What's black and brown and looks good on a hippie?
A: A rottweiler.
(Brought to mind by this: 5 "Rainbows" arrested in clash with officers.)
80% of all life on earth is found under the ocean surface. Of that total, 63% can be made tasty with lemon and butter.
Go read the rest, at IMAO.
Pain heals. Chicks dig scars. Glory... lasts forever.
Parts one and three of that quote (source) are pretty much true.
How about part two?
Chicks: I'm totally available. Ignore the
thinning thin hair. Unless you think it's the sign of an exceptionally active brain, in which case, by all means, pay attention.
Just don't expect me to take you dancing quite yet.
A modicum of sanity in Oregon, where charges of felonious butt-swatting against two 13-year-old boys have been dropped. I don't care who you are, butt-swatting when a 13-year-old should in no way mark you as a sex offender for life. Indeed, I can't think of too many things a 13-year-old can do that ought to label them for life. Are you the same person now that you were when you were 13?
Steve H. prognosticates. He may be on to something there. Me, I think we're looking at a major redefinition of the term "boob-tube."
Garofalo to join cast of "24." Fonzie to jump shark.
Louisiana Democrats attack Bobby Jindal's religion. (Isn't Louisiana a heavily Catholic state?) They once tried a whisper campaign about his ethnicity, so this really comes as no surprise. That they have to take his words out of context is not only unsurprising, it's pretty much the standard modus operandi for Democrats these days.
John Edwards: not so bright. Less bright: the people who ever voted for him for anything.
Breaking and entering? Illegal. Squatting? Not so much.
Jack M., guest-posting at Ace of Spades, presents his list of ways one can celebrate the Fifth-o of May-o.
8) Finally, I wrap up the day's fun by going to the most ritzy French restaurant in town and saying "You lost to...Mexico. Mexico." Then I just laugh and laugh and laugh.
Sounds like a great deal of fun to me.
Having noticed a rapid and serious decline in my ability to walk since being put on the Prednisone tapering-off plan, I called the doctor last week, and was "rewarded" by having my dosage set to 60mg/day, which I began on Saturday. There seems to have been a bit of improvement — I am walking a bit better already.
I'm still waiting for a second MRI appointment.
And today I had my worst fall so far. It was not the usual "legs giving out under me" fall, though, where I crumple vertically and end up on my hands and knees. This was the full "toppling like a redwood tree" kind of fall; I went over backwards and ended up flat on my back.
I think I might have dented something. Something other than my bedroom floor, I mean. I'm pretty sure I hurt something in this fall. I'm just thankful it didn't happen while I was on the stairs.
Up to this point, I haven't really had any back pain associated with my condition; at most, there were some aches as the muscles in my back worked harder to compensate for the balance problems I've had.
Right now, though, my back feels like Barry Bonds took a swing at it — and connected, right below the shoulder blades.
Codeine, take me away....
Update: the squirrels are here... and they're pissed. Seems their deal to play Vegas fell through; the Chumash indian casino in Santa Ynez, CA is indeed a weak substitute.
On the plus side, though, they've added Hot Chocolate to their repertoire. Awesome.
The truth can hurt.
Right now my ribs ache, having seen the greatest political advertisement ever.
I needed a laugh. I talked to my niece today; we're all still pretty "down" about Bubba's passing.
There's something you don't see every day... a pack of squirrels are out on the window ledge here at the office, doing what appears to be a performance of the "All-Rodent KC and the Sunshine Band Tribute Revue."
Right now they're in the middle of "That's The Way I Like It." Their brass section is phenomenal.
Now that my broken foot is pretty much healed up, maybe I should consider cutting back on the pain meds.
But not until the squirrels do "Get Down Tonight."
No, this isn't something new, except perhaps to those few of you who visit here regularly. It's been making the rounds, and it's good enough for another link: Carlos Mencia.
[There are some bleeps, but Potty Language Warning is in effect for the particularly delicate.]
I may have to give Mind of Mencia on Comedy Central a look.
Shamelessly stolen from via The Jawa Report]
It is clear now that no one in the White House is going to face up to reality and reconsider the decision to nominate Harriet Miers to the Supreme Court. While I heartily disagree with the selection, I cannot fault the President for his loyalty to his associates. And we now know that Miers will not be withdrawing herself from consideration.
On the face of it, there is nothing wrong with her. I'm sure she has a squeaky-clean record, and her known accomplishments are real — though comparatively modest. The problem is that she just is not what those of us who voted for this President either wanted or expected: a Justice in the mold of Scalia or Thomas.
I've been perusing the historical record, looking for past examples of presidents' nominees who have withdrawn themselves from consideration for various positions. It occurs to me: it would be awfully convenient if Miers had in the past used illegal alien domestics — maids, gardeners, drivers, or even nannies (assuming, of course, that Miers actually has children, of course. Hey, I'm spitballing here. I don't have time to do elementary research.)
Faced with evidence that she had used such employees, she would surely have to stand aside.
In order for an illegal alien employee "tarbrushing" to succeed, the story would have to be credible enough to be believed by the Old Media, so that it will receive plenty of airplay, but little or no scrutiny. As luck would have it, I found a historical example of exactly that kind of tarbrushing.
Given a batch of crudely-forged memos with unverifiable provenance, the media will surely take them at face value and race to get them on the air in an attempt to torpedo the nomination.
All that's needed, then, is the aforementioned batch of crudely-forged memos.
The NC State Fair is in town... I think they have a livestock show.
Now... where I can find a Kinko's?
At The Jawa Report, commenter Rodney Dill beat me to the punchline in this most evil of caption contests.
There's wrong, and then there's wrong.
This isn't just wrong – this is WRONG:
DONALD RUMSFELD IN A SPEEDO
... Sec. of Defense armed & dangerous!
By GEORGE SANFORD
SECRETARY of Defense Donald Rumsfeld got caught with his pants down during his recent surprise trip to Iraq -- when a chambermaid snapped a photo of him cavorting in his hotel room in a skimpy Speedo-type swimsuit!
Dusty John at Castle Argghhh! has a link to the Ted Kennedy Plan To Get Out Of Iraq.
As for me, I'm just surprised Teddy is still alive. As I noted in a comment on another site, the fact that he has not yet shuffled off this mortal coil is a strong testament to the preservative power of alcohol.
[Attribution of the linked post has been repaired. Sorry, John.]
So John Kerry has released his military records to the Boston Globe. The Globe, being the upstanding paradigm of journalism that it is (see here, for an example of their journalistic credibility), will undoubtedly give the world the straight story on the contents of those records.
Yes. And someday I might don a cape and tights and fly under my own power.*
Globe reporter Michael Kranish tells us there is a "lack of any substantive new material about Kerry's military career" in the files.
I'm wagering that what we have just witnessed is a completely new usage of the word "substantive." Someone should let the folks at Merriam-Webster know about this.
Kranish — who, as Michelle Malkin notes, co-authored the Kerry campaign suck-up book John F. Kerry: The Complete Biography By The Boston Globe Reporters Who Know Him Best (a title as wordy as the former candidate himself) — would appear to be Kerry's "go-to" guy in the print media.
Kerry thus gets the benefit of being able to claim full disclosure, without the slightest potential of a critical word being said by the news staff at his media outlet-of-choice.
As a sop to the critics, however, details of Kerry's academic career were published, including a photo of the undergraduate Kerry.
Guess which one is the young Brahmin:
OK, that was just cruel. Deliciously cruel. But it's no wonder he didn't want those records released. The camera just isn't friendly to him at all.
* I might someday fly under my own power, but I will never wear tights and a cape. Which, all things considered, would be for the best. Trust me on this.
Update 2: Matt scores some commentary from Swift Boat Vet kahuna John O'Neill.
Sorry for the lack of posting... I've been busy this week, and too tired at night to think straight.
In lieu of original content, here's a picture of naked chicks with guns:
Separated at birth?
(Apologies for the crappy photoshop job.)
Update: Welcome, Instapundit visitors. My very first 'lanche, and it had to be on a cheesy photoshop job.
Late update, 1/30/2007: At Hot Air, suggestions that Kerry's photo op was a violation of campaign law. It was a great picture, though.