Gonshi, gonshi

Jeez Louise I been sitting here trying to come up with something to convey best wishes for this here Chinesey New Year, but fucked if I can generate any fucking thing at all.
I'd rather just fucking sit here and listen to

I got a couple good CNY stories, but, to tell you the truth, I just can't be arsed right now.

Does that make me a bad person?

Actually, part of the problem is that it's my 19th CNY (or Crosby Nash Young, as we used to call it) here, so it's like a year short of being particularly significant.

It's Dragon Year, which is considerably less exciting or interesting than you might think if you were Quentin Tarantino or some other anus-faced Sino-Dilettante.

Sorry for the Wet Blanketude, if you happen to be personally rocking the whole Gongxi Fatsai deal.

Oh, and Happy Tet to our dear Sister RG

Fuck, there haven't even been any incredibly obnoxious firework incidents.

Raj

Hey Renner! Yeah, over here!

Bite me.

Sucka...

*Before we start, allow me to assure you all, with utter certainty, that nobody, I repeat NOBODY, who visits here has ever seen my ass*

I had to go to the computer store last night, and while I was waiting for my guy, I had the distinct displeasure of being subjected to one of those shitsucking Apple promo videos that they run non-stop on the big fucking plasma.
Lordy lordy Barry Gordy, I hate those fucking things, they just make me want to fucking Elvis the screen.

You know the ones, with the endless succession of Phoney-assed Sincere Corporate Geeks telling you how fantastic the new toy is and how they all "pulled together to overcome the challenges" of getting the fucking thing to do whatever it couldn't do last year so you'll fucking pony up for the new one.

Aside from the incredible annoyance of them all doing that asshole 90's thing of speaking directly to your immediate left or right, a relentlessly pat manouvre to let you know that they aren't actually recording a prepared marketing message, oh heavens no, they were just having this relaxed, buddy-to-buddy chat with that guy over there and the camera just happened to roll, the whole Friendly Nerd shtick is just sooooooo fucking cheesy.

Oh, and at the risk of getting all Hey You Kids Get Off My Lawn on you all, if I ever end up standing in my home telling a box to find me a good Italian resto, well, you know, it'll be time to go.

All I could think of, while watching these twats, was:

So fucking Kodak is going TU, huh?
That's kind of sad, really.


Raj

Shit you can get away with when you're a comic book hero, I tell ya...

Hawkeye. Fucking love him.

Definitely

my favourite Avenger.

AND I couldn't be happier that Renner

is playing him in the new movie.

EVEN SO, as I mentioned previously, if he IS banging ScarJo, well, let's just say I ain't going to be too fucking happy.

On the other hand, if he AIN'T stonking her, how does he get the fuck away with THIS shit???

For jumping out fucking loud??

Man, if I went to bed and dreamt about even thinking about oogling some young lady's chesticularities a fucking third that blatantly, my fucking ass would be fucking Kansas, I swear.

I guess that's why they're heroes.


Raj

When you tear it from my cold dead ISP...

Holy cow, nothing like a little passo/aggro civil disobedience to get the old heart pumping and psychoses jumping.
I got home last night and went to check my email, and it wouldn't connect. Period. I was connected to the Inkranetsk fine, there was no problem there (which there sometimes is), but I just couldn't load any pages.
So of course, the first thing I figured was that everyone, anywhere, who had even mentioned "those two legislative acts", as we did here yesterday, let's call them the Riggs and Murtaugh of digital repression

Man, I used to have hair like that...no, not like Danny Glover

was already on the books and was having their operations fucked with.
I still haven't decided that isn't the case.
But I did start getting through OK after a while.
Even so, remember what Bill Burroughs said, sometimes paranoia is just having all the facts.
Or what Raj says, you'd be paranoid too if you knew half the scumbags I do.

Anyway, as the evening and this morning wore on, the number of websites blacked out in protest started becoming pretty impressive, one way or another.

Crap, even when I went looking for them dirty ScarJo

Man, if she's banging Renner I'm going to be SO fucking choked

cell phone piccies, at least HALF of the sites showing them were blacked out.

Fortunately, the OTHER half were working just fine.

So, you know, all isn't lost.

Raj

Oh FUCK SOPA, and FUCK PIPA

No matter who you are, no matter what you do, no matter where you ate your fucking breakfast, if you're any kind of a regular visitor (who isn't poking around in here on someone's tax dollar tit) here, it's a pretty sure bet that one of these fucking digital pogroms will negatively affect you.
Read all about it.

Now go do whatever you can to keep a leash on them.

Raj

DON'T call him Bubbles Pt. 2

Part 1 is here.

OK, I know that making fun of fucking Red is cherry picking.
And I freely admit that I'm far from the first, and nowhere near the best at it.
It's just so, you know, obvious.

Gritty reboot?
You got this kind of glorious shit

which is almost enough to give you fucking nightmares

And Supes?

Yeah, he took some time out to tour the Midwest in a Bon Jovi tribute band.

And then there's, you know, the flag thing...

Which, to be fair, pretty much always ends up being pretty dumbass, irrespective

of the nationality

in question

although I kind of like this cat:

Any fucking ways, I think you get my point.

But, despite the fact that I always loved Bats, there were a couple other comic heroes that, for various reasons, were always especially near to my heart, specifically when I was little...

To Be Continued

Raj

PS And hey, if you want to know, anything at all, really, about Comics stuff, or just read about them, you must visit the one and only Comics 101

Home of Professor Scott Tipton, the best dang comics writer anywhere.

Due diligence

Oh yeah, I forgot, we had a General Election this weekend.
So I guess I have at least some kind of responsibility to post about it.

Thing is, I just finally located a subtitles file that synchs with this awesome new 720p dub of Red Heat that I recently acquired.

So I can, you know, read all Arnie's badass Russian dialogue with the Georgian goons and all.


So, you know,

Cовокупляться демократия (sovokuplyatʹsya demokratiya).


Raj

Ass. Hole.

So it's summer 1989, and I'm on a flight home from Montreal, where I'd been for a month.
The guy sitting next to me, as it turns out, is Leroy Blugh

Coming back from playing Montreal.

Nice young fella, we chatted a bit.

Of course, if you think about it, a professional defensive lineman and me, sitting next to each other in Economy, well, we didn't have much choice but to buddy up, you know?

Anyways, it's a pretty long flight, you know?

Like 8 or 9 hours.

So we're sitting there, and they do the meal and all.

And then as we're finishing, the Boy Stewardess comes up to young Leroy and leans over and says
"If you'd like, Leroy, I can bring you another steak."
He politely and kind of embarrassedly declined and the guy went away.

And I was fucking gobsmacked, I was like "Hey, motherfucker, what about ME???"

Fuck I hate airlines.

Raj

Oh right, sorry

Shit, I just realized that I referred to a Tribe-specific paradigm that most of you aren't clued into.
In here I referred to the Three Musketeers of Female Perfection, thinking that we'd actually discussed this before.
As it turns out, I'd actually written it up, but declined to post it, for reasons that don't currently warrant discussion.
So, yeah, The Three Babesteteers, to wit:

The Looch

The Cooch

The Hayek

And, obviously, Bonet

Bonus:

Well, I'm certainly glad we cleared that up.


Raj

You know how hard it is to find a poncho you like, Lance...

So I have this very carefully worked out and specifically compiled system of gear to allow me to maintain the maximum level of comfort and function whilst commuting daily in this savage climate.
Achievement of the ideal warmth/dryness/windproof/mobility/dryout time/portability/breathability/ruggedness index can constitute the better part of a life's work, all things considered.
I believe I currently approach the fulfillment of that ideal.
Except...

My outer rain layer consists of this most excellent GI R/S poncho, it's nearly perfect in every regard, but it's one of those deals that's also intended to do double duty as a groundsheet/shelter if needed, and there's these giant fuckoff grommets in each of the four corners.
And sometimes, like this morning, when I'm really tooling along, the wind will set one corner to flapping and fucking HAMMER this fucking grommet into my calf at like 50 fucking times a second, like BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM, I swear it's like having Stewart Fucking Copeland on fucking crystal meth just fucking STONKING it on your fucking leg.
Fucking OUCH all fucking ready!!

Otherwise, you know, it's alright.

Raj

A Rose by Any Other Name...

One of the most beautiful and continually fulfilling things about working with the English language every day, is, as I'm sure I don't need to tell you, its wondrous fluidity and adaptability.
As the world around us changes and alters itself constantly, the language we love (and hate) evolves perfectly, in exact synch.

One example: when I think back, I honestly can't ever recall any time in my life, prior to about the last 3 or 4 years, where I used the term "anus" as an appellation, pejorative or otherwise.
You know what I mean, all the time I was a kid and then growing up, and then living on both sides of the globe, saying something like "You anus" to someone, well it never came up.

And then, well...

People started driving Lexuses.

Raj

Too cool for words

Raj

Black Bird Black Heart Black Flag

So it looks like a lot of people are putting this one at or near the top of their Best of 2011 lists.

I got no beef with that, I guess.

It was certainly a hell of a movie.

Naturally, like I'm pretty sure at least 50% of everyone else, I watched it mostly in hopes of fucking Portman

FINALLY getting them out for the lads, but, alas, it was not to be.
Still, the quasi-rug munch between her and Whatsername

Was decent.

Even if it never really happened.
And hey, what's up with that?
If you're going to have some kind of massive Hottie All-Skin Cagematch in your movie

The kind of a deal some folks have been waiting a lifetime to see

or even longer

you know, the kind of stuff that has the power to change a young man's life forever...

Well, OK, then, have at her...

But for CRYING OUT LOUD, DON'T do it and then make like it never really happened!!

Sheeeet, mon, I could stay home and do that, for fuck's sakes.

I also found it pretty distracting how everytime we saw Portman's Ma

I kept drawing involuntary wood thinking about her boob tats in Last Temptation.

(boy, if I get to the end of this one without having to duck down the the hall for an Emergency Rubout, I deserve some kind of fucking award, for sure)

Anyways.

It was good, definitely well made.

Vincent fucking Cassel is the fucking sauce, as always

I love him, he's like the one in a million fucking Frenchies who can actually pull it off without deserving a fucking smack in the bargain.

Seriously, he just cracks me up, he's like that one guy in your gang that every fuckin time you go anywhere he steals at least two chicks from their dates and there's nothing you can do or say about it because he fucking earned it.
And the chicks are never sorry after.

We aren't even going to mention that TONIGHT he will go home and bang one of the Three Musketeers of Female Perfection (Bonet is d'Artagnan), the less said about that the better.

Yeah, it was OK.

Thing is, you know, Aronofsky, he's like a fucking sculptor of dread, you know?
Every one of his movies, there's just this constantly mounting undercurrent of fear for something bad going to happen, sometimes it's WAY out front, like in Pi

like being in some kind of evil medical experiment, or fucking Requiem

which pretty much replicated the experience of someone kicking you in the nuts every 5 minutes for a hour and a half, each time just a little harder.

Even The

Mother

Fucking

Wrestler

my own Best Movie for 2008, returning the Mighty Mighty Micktone to his former state of fucking glory

and well-deserved world domination

Well, even that was a tough watch.

Anyways, I think it's pretty good, and don't really mind it getting all the attention.

Raj