Tim Burton, Please Stop

Holy shit. This may be old news, but I just found out: In 1998 there, there was almost a Superman Movie called Superman Lives that was/contained (and I'll list these out so you can savor each one individually):

• Directed by Tim Burton
• Starring (yeah, starring) Nicholas Cage
• "Reimagining" of the Superman suit as a multi-colored, semi-translucent suit with glowing fiber optics
• A main villain that was a giant spider

Not that Superman Returns was a gem, but could you imagine the cinematic abortion that would have resulted if this movie had been made? I can only fathom that it would be the inbred offspring of Ghost Rider and Burton's Batman Returns (which itself was grotesquely campy and tastelessly done).

If you want details and images of the screamingly flamboyant Supersuit, check the links.

http://www.comicsalliance.com/2010/11/01/costume-tim-burton-superman-lives/

http://www.comicsalliance.com/2010/12/13/more-superman-lives-bad-designs-tim-burton-nicolas-cage/

This is similar to my old post about why movie directors and producers feel the need to 'make their mark' on well established franchises. There are ways to assert your creativity without destroying all previous efforts. And Tim Burton is the worst. Sleepy Hollow, Batman Returns, Planet of the Apes, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory; all of them corrupted by his "unique reimaginings." He makes me so god damn angry. You're fucking weird- we get it. Now stop making movies that star the same six people as overly costumed neo-gothic characters in a one-off world. PLEASE.

JUSTICE DONT WAIT

Is there really a point to Supreme Court sketch artists? The venue never changes. The judges rarely change. I doubt the interior decor is constantly in flux. The only thing that really changes is the audience of balding men and frigid women in muted earth tone suits. God forbid I don't get the full experience of the nerdlington with the glasses sitting in the back row, or what I can only imagine to be a Barbra Bush impersonator sitting there in red. GOD FORBID.





The title of today's post is brought to you 
by my new catchphrase, courtesy of Dr. Pepper 10:
All That Fucking Taste- Just Ten Calories!



Agreed.

Spamalot

Here's a glimpse into my junk email folder.  

Most of these are pretty standard (do spammers actually think that using eastern european style accents will make words un-screenable?). I like the offer for sexy pictures from Jessica, a Christian single in my area, albeit one from an extremely sexually explicit sect of Christianity (probably a Methodist- am I right??). But my favorite is the first email, congratulating me for having someone (maybe) run a background check on me. Oh, to be so lucky...

LiDLIEU #1: Super Duper

Here's a new series of posts I like to call literal definitions lost in everyday use. Over the course of however long I feel like doing these, we'll explore the literal and/or actual meaning of common phrases, many of which have been lost or reappropriated.

For the inaugural entry we'll be looking at the phrase "party pooper". The accepted definition is more or less someone who makes shared activities less enjoyable for others, often by refusing to participate, or being the lone dissenter. The literal definition is someone who shows up to parties with the sole intention of taking a massive shit and making the place smell like holy hell, often while making loud, awkward grunts. An alternative definition involves a person who goes to a party, then very quietly and calmly shits their pants. Said person then walks around the party with a duce in their pants, making the other party goers very confused and uncomfortable.

Although the general and literal definitions are similar, everyday use of the term party pooper just doesn’t have the crisp, pungent potency of its literal counterpart.

pOsT tHiS tO 50 pEoPle oR uR GuNnA DiE evEnTuaLLy

The Internet has really taken all the challenge out of being a dumbass. Case in point: can you imagine how difficult and time consuming it was to send chain letters before the advent of electronic messaging? Especially the "forward this to 10 people or a little girl with no eyes will rape you" type of letter. You either had to be extremely gullible, or a grade-A dick to participate in old school chain letters. And now thanks to the Internet, you don't have to choose!

And on a related note:

In other news, the White house received a chain letter today from cash-strapped Russia. In it, Moscow officials wrote "...we are aware that the unilateral request to propagate this message sounds crazy; but we voted, and we all thought we'd give it a shot." The Kremlin goes on to state optimism that on Friday it will be kissed by its biggest crush, while simultabeously warning of bad luck, were the White House not to comply. Russian President Dmitry Medvedev added "We did not send the last letter we got, and look what hs happened."

Stickier Image

I'm all for a non-hostile work environment, but this is, well, this is great.

Sharper Image Item No: 145791
Morale Boosting Employee
Physical 'Happy Time' Case
$49.99 Each



The DJ Rev Dr. Alfonzo Buttsmakkah

As many of you- well, as Mike and Olivia know, I have a deep resentment for people who describe their music taste as “whatever’s on the radio” or “whatever I can dance to” (basically using the noun ‘whatever’ is a no-no*) . Furthermore, I have resentment for people who feel compelled to always listen to music. You know the type; always has the radio on or an iPod in- regardless of what they’re doing. And the thing that chafes my ass is that 10 times out of 9, that people would describe themselves as a ‘music lover.’

No.

You can say that you have a need for constant aural stimuli, or that your own insecurities require intense, thought-suppressing sonic overload. But you don’t love music. You are a compulsive overeater – not a gourmet. You are a nymphomaniac – not a sensual love-maker. You are a daily blogger – not a literary master**. You are the bargain brand toilet paper that needs twice as much to absorb – not Charmin © Quilted Ass Blankets™.

Granted I’m portraying myself as a music snob (which is true) but as long as you demonstrate some form of discerning taste, I don’t care what you listen to***. Just don’t be a dick in the mud about it. As The DJ Rev Dr. Alfonzo Buttsmakkah once said, “Refine yourself before ye untwine thyself.”





* “Whatever and Ever, Amen” by Ben Folds Five is a notable exception. I don’t really like the album, but that’s for different reasons.

**I am both.

***Anything on CMT and/or BET is objectively horrible.

Something About News or Somethimngc

I love how, if you’re a reporter, a press secretary, or a PR officer, you can put a spin on absolutely everything. All you have to do is cite an anonymous source, and you can say anything you want.

“Sources say that Governor Williams was in possession of several underage Vietnamese boys which he used as sex slaves. The Governor’s office could not be reached for comment.”

Regardless of minor details (such as: that my source is a homeless lady with a milk-jug helmet, and that the office couldn’t be reached because I was too lazy to look up the number) that statement is factually sound. Libel, you say? Go ahead. Find me evidence that there WASN’T a government funded sex slave dungeon in an abandoned warehouse near the docks. That brings me to my next point; the wonderful world of jargon!

Call it legalese, or double-speak, but with a few minor substitutions you can soften even the most heinous proclamations. Let’s build on the previous example by generating a response from the Governor’s office (Note the softening of the loaded term ‘sex slave’)

“The Governor may or may not have employed certain physically obligated coital assistants during his tenure, but I assure you that at this time, the administration is launching a full investigation into the matter.”

This is what we call a power play. The fact that they claim to be launching an investigation is another way of saying ‘give us a month or two to clean up this mess.’ Luckily, there’s a fail-safe counter move; the muckraker.

Little more than a voyeur, the muckraker’s job is to invade any and all aspects of a person’s life with the sole intention of destroying that person’s public image. The journalistic equivalent of a trailer-trash talk show, muckrakers aren’t content with merely inconveniencing a target. No, they want Jerry Springer style drama: transsexual prostitutes, illegitimate baby-mama drama, closeted homosexual and/or Klansman. Let’s observe.

“In shocking hidden-camera footage obtained by our own Connie Loradopolis, we see what appears to be then-Governor Williams dressed in leather and tied to a bed, with several unnamed individuals putting clothespins on his nipples.”

Granted, Connie Loradopolis paid a local S&M club to act out this scene and had her news team produce it (as evidenced by the high production value, including star-wipes and editing for continuity) but by this point it doesn’t matter. The damage is done; the final blow delivered. Resignation is almost inevitable, but responsibility is far from it. Here’s what Governor Williams would say in his speech:

“In light of recent accusations brought against myself, my office, and my core values, I have talked and prayed with my family, and feel that it is no longer in the best interest of the state, and it is no longer in the best interest of my family, that I remain in office. In no way does this mean I accept these allegations as true; I don’t even like Asians that much. At this time, I hereby cede control of the great state of Texas to my very capable Lt. Governor, Jeffrey Dahmer (no relation). Thank you all for your support, and God Bless.”

Translation, “F*ck all of you- I’m out.”