Vladimir’s Putin’s name sounds a lot like the French word for whore.
That’s weird, though, because in the Criterion Collection edition of Le Mepris, Brigitte Bardot says ‘putain…putain’ (to spite her husband who’s criticized her foul mouth, and it is beautiful, just insanely beautiful to watch her sadly pronounce obscenities in the bathroom), and it’s subtitled as ‘cunt.’ So is Putin a whore or a cunt?
I guess ask the Georgians.
watch out for the militant black socialist revolution, which apparently is what Obama means by ‘change’
It seems to me that if Mr. Obama wins the presidential election, then Messrs. Farrakhan, Wright, Ayers and Pfleger will gain power for their need to demoralize this country and help create a socialist America.
Jon Voight, ladies and gentlemen, explaining his mental illness. You may remember him as IMF traitor Jim Phelps, or the guy who didn’t get raped in Deliverance. Also, inexplicably, he once portrayed the Pope.
Italian Spiderman. A friend forwarded the trailer a couple weeks ago; I had no idea there are ten episodes and an extensive (fictional) history surrounding the production company and the difficulty in filming the greatest Italian superhero epic of the 1960s.
note: boomerang moustache doesn’t make an appearance until episode ten.
Palahniuk is coming to town in a couple weeks, and I’m interested in seeing him, but probably only in theory. I’ve always been fascinated by the stories about people fainting or vomiting or convulsing or whatever when he reads “Guts,” because that’s a kind of imagination magic you don’t see anymore. You watch a movie where people are beheaded or worse and don’t pass out, but you hear — don’t see, hear — a story about a guy getting his guts sucked out through his anus and you pass out. It gives me hope in humanity, a little bit, the same way that I’m encouraged when people are outraged by Bret Easton Ellis (though that hasn’t happened for a decade or so). What do I mean? I mean there’s still a line somewhere, still some sort of inherent moral compass, still some feeling of good and bad or right and wrong. It’s OK, I think, to have that sense, and OK to be reminded that it exists. Keeps us from destroying ourselves.
That said, I read “Guts” and some other nonsense last night and was reminded why I haven’t been excited by any of P.’s books since Fight Club. I was about 19 when Fight Club hit. I doubt I could reread it today. The last P-book I read was Diary, and I only made it about fifty pages in before I returned it to the library. It wasn’t disgusting; it was boring, which is a whole other kind of disgusting.
His new book is called Snuff. It’s about pornography and mass-fucking. Yeah, OK. I’m reading HG Wells instead.
I don’t know why, but this thing just scares me to death. It may be because it looks like a giant spider-dog, not because it’s a giant robot. I don’t know.
Here’s a nice article about modern-day robots.
The Times successfully sued the Defense Department to gain access to 8,000 pages of e-mail messages, transcripts and records describing years of private briefings, trips to Iraq and Guantánamo and an extensive Pentagon talking points operation.
These records reveal a symbiotic relationship where the usual dividing lines between government and journalism have been obliterated.
This is the most important news story of the last several years. Maybe ever. To summarize: the government really does, really actually does write and control televised media. This really, truly is a propaganda campaign. Good God.
I’ve always been slightly convinced that the great disaster on the horizon won’t necessarily be an act of aggression: it could just be a big mistake. And apparently I’m not the only one, because a couple of guys are trying to keep the Large Hadron Collider from replicating the Big Bang because they think it might create a black hole that will swallow the Earth. I’m all about science — I love the monkey brain robot — but I’m almost feeling a little Mennonite-ish about recreating the Big Bang in Geneva. Shouldn’t we be doing that on the moon or something?
So I had this blog before, this very blog, but I destroyed it utterly and now — now — I’m starting again.
Here’s an incredible fan-made video for Spanish Bombs that matches actual footage of the Spanish Civil War with Joe Strummer’s lyrics. The song has always broken my heart. Oh, and if you aren’t familiar, don’t freak out when you see the marching fascists: this is not about them, but rather the hope of the Republic (trenches full of poets, the ragged army) who stood against them, who marched and or ganized when the military took control, the artists and artisans who fought a hopeless battle to maintain representative government and oppose glorified monarchy.