I've had this argument a few times before, so I figured I'd settle it RIGHT HERE. And also: RIGHT NOW.
Who's hotter? Angel girls or demon girls?
Demon girls have horns and a tail (like monkeys), are covered in flies (because they smell like rotten eggs), and want to eat your flesh.
Angel girls have wings, so even when their hands are occupied (*wink* *wink*), they can still give you big, feathery hugs.
Case closed.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Live From My Bedroom
Hey, guys. As I walked into Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, I promised myself I wasn't going to just sit there and mutter "The books were better." under my breath, over and over for the duration of the movie. I decided that my interpretation of Bryan Lee O'Malley's characters was just that; I wouldn't act like some weirdo fanboy and jump up yelling, "Scott wouldn't do/say/eat that!" every time Michael Cera slipped out of character and acted like....well, Michael Cera. I would let the movie be itself and judge it with a clear conscience and a fair shake, unbiased by my burning, obsessive love for the comic books of the same name....*twitch*.....*twitch*
Scott Pilgrim doesn't wear wristbands. Why did you have to wear wristbands? Why is that your thing? Damn it.
Ok, that's really it though. I actually did like Michael Cera's Scott. Now I will review the *movie* like a level-headed hooman and not some lunatic nerd. Allow me to break it on down.
-Breakdown-
Visuals/Special Effects: For The Win (Level: >9000)
Casting/Character Portrayal: I See What You Did There (Level: 75)
Video Game References: Kind of Want (Level: 30)
Music/Soundtrack: ZOMGOMGOMG (Level: 777)
You have to see this movie. Wait, before I geek out and tell you how great it is, let me draw a comparison. This will be the worst thing I have to say about the movie (and possibly my only negative criticism.) Think about the word "awesome." What does it mean? Exactly. You don't even care anymore. It's been taken. Douchey teenagers have swallowed up the word, and turned it into a sound. Calling anything "awesome" has lost all meaning to them: a knee-jerk reaction to label anything out of the ordinary. It's chewed-out, used up, played. And for that reason, you have lost interest in it as well.
On that note, it's hard to respect the plot line of SPvTW. A self-proclaimed "Epic of epic epicness," there is little room for decent writing or coherent development. Any scene that could be used to house a pithy retort or a concise revelation is instead swapped out for stupid, boyish rhetoric or an intentionally hokey pun. You almost expect it to cut to Kim Pine and a "ba-dum-chhh" on the drums. For me, this movie could have been a 10 with better writing. Granted, it's hilarious when Scott strikes out with Ramona the first time he talks to her and I was all about Todd Ingram's weak-ass trash talk, but to have Scott wiff during a pivotal scene where he's supposed to *get it*? The movie really hinges on the action, and I guess you could just take it as Scott being Scott (a doofus). But, it seems like such cheesey writing betrays a deliberate trade-off between cartoonish action and a legitimate script. I don't see why they didn't try for both.
Maybe they knew kids were going to stamp the movie as "awesome" either way. So, why even try? They never really hit the nail on the head (they just hit it really hard.) Moral of the story: expand your vocabulary. Things can be more than just "awesome" and "not awesome." I think parts of this movie banked on that inability to discriminate...Although, all in all: it was pretty fucking awesome.
First off: the music. With Beck stepping in whenever Kim Pine counts off Sex Bob-omb, Metric lending "Black Sheep" as The Clash at Demonhead's single, and Broken Social Scene in the corner for Crash and The Boys, the musical scenes were freaking sweet. I expected a little more (any) 8-bit music. They did make the Universal logo/theme all 8-bit and chip-tune in the beginning, but where the hell was Anamanaguchi?...what?...in the video game? Oh, right.
And it wasn't just the actual, rad music that flowed perfectly with the comic-action. I swear I heard the Zelda Fairy Fountain theme when Scott stepped out of the bathroom to find himself in subspace. The bands set the tone for many of the battles, but there was a bunch of chill background music for non-fighting scenes as well.
The movie is edited extremely well. The plot action flows seamlessly in and out of the boss fights. My friend Marissa commented that it had a certain Run Lola Run feel to it. And it wasn't just Ramona's hair. I totally agreed. Like the way Lola remembers how to take the safety off the gun from exploits in another reality, Scott's ability to recall past mistakes is totally mirrored by the crafty strip-style scene cuts. Particularly in the beginning of the movie, there are some very clever setting/scene changes. Scott's surroundings mimic his life. Everything just kind of runs together; Scott floats in and out. Michael Cera does a terrific job conveying Scott's perfect inability to comprehend the world that revolves around him. Up until the first fight, you feel like you're just being stylishly dragged around. Things snap into focus and Scott checks in when he fights Matthew Patel. I like that the editing dictates/changes with the mood of the action. It's pretty sleek.
I've already written so much. I should probably stop. The main thing to remember is that the movie was made to blow your mind. I can't say it really did that on an intellectual level, but maybe it's not supposed to. Maybe it's supposed to be a stupid story about a boy who gets into a fight...an awesome fight.
You should check out the video game (scored by ANAMANAGUCHI) and download Metric's "Black Sheep."
Boss Fights (in order of favorite to least favorite)
1 & 2. Kyle Katayanagi and Ken Katayanagi
3. Matthew Patel
4. Todd Ingram
5. Gideon
6. Roxy
7. Lucas Lee
Monday, August 9, 2010
And Now I Need Some Help From The Maestro, Please.
This weekend was prodigiously acrobatastic. A lot of things happened. I got in and out without a scratch, stories intact. One night, we discussed censorship and transparency over drinks. Neil cracked me up by filling me in on old-school MPAA policies. I listened as he and our friend Tyler analyzed antiquated standards. Tyler threw out how ironic it is that "retro" is so in right now, considering how locked-down things were back in the day. People were freaking square.
Neil agreed, "Making movies, you couldn't do shit. Anything interracial? No. You couldn't have interracial romance. You couldn't have interracial smiling. Black lady smiles at a white man? Nope. Not happening. Oh, and anybody who does something wrong--like murders someone, or cheats on his wife, [basically breaks the social contract]--has to pay for it in the end. Like, they have to get punished."
I asked, "So bad guys could never get away with it?"
"No. It always had to catch up with them or the movie didn't happen."
It's crazy to think that certain stories simply weren't told because some bunch of geezers said gen pop couldn't handle it. People weren't allowed to think life was unfair, it was considered unsavory to smooch someone of a different race, one couldn't scope out this sexiness. Examining the struggle between shelter and exposure blew my mind. What were people so afraid of? Why was it so shocking? You like to think these agencies are protecting us, but it's weird to stop and think: protecting us from what? So anyway, that was Thursday.
Friday night we ran into a rag-tag band of Colonial soldiers. This militia of girls decked out like minutemen bellied up next to us at the bar in their tri-corner hats with Betsy Ross flags wrapped around their shoulders. We nodded as if to say, "Evening, ladies. You show those lobsterbacks how we do things stateside. Stay free."
Saturday, I ran around the city and set things on fire. Sunday I went swimming and hung out with the fam. Ok, I'm not trying to get all Xanga on you. I had fun this weekend, but there are cooler things to worry about than the my interactions with my supercool friends and family.
Garth Marenghi’s Darkplace
Darkplace is a show within a show. It's sort of like Kingdom Hospital, only difference is that it's perfect in every way--and it knows it. The actual program "Darkplace" is based in another layer of reality where moron/science-fiction writer/assclown/dream-weaver "Garth Marenghi" is called upon by the BBC to drag a spooky miniseries he threw together back in the '80s out from the the creepy recesses of his basement. He blows off the cobwebs and the Cheeto dust, ready to scare the pants off a new generation of "travelers" brave enough to venture into the horrifying world that is Garth Marenghi's idiot mind.
Garth and the rest of the cast have been called back for interviews which are scattered throughout the bone-chilling tales of supernatural terror which take place in Darkplace Hospital. Each asinine "Darkplace" character (like world-renowned GP Dr. Rick Dagless, suave sidekick Dr. Lucien Sanchez, unpredictable woman Dr. Liz Asher, or hardass Thornton Reed) is played by a two-bit, scrub actor on the alternate reality level (who, in turn, is played by an incredibly skilled, hilarious actor who lives in the real world that you and I inhabit). The sublevel actor-characters see Darkplace's re-release as a chance to discuss the ground-breaking work of art that they helped to create, but the implication is that the BBC just really needed to fill some air time and demanded that these people explain what the hell is even going on with this terrible show.
It's an extremely clever, very short series (all of six episodes). Steve Merchant has a hilarious cameo. I might have overcomplicated it, but whatever. You'll get it when you see it. It's amazing.
Wizard People, Dear Readers
Wizard People, Dear Readers is like Harry Potter RiffTrax only it's done by Brad Neely. You may or may not know that he is a genius (having seen The Professor Brothers and/or Washington.) He narrates The Sorcerer's Stone like a book on tape and it is ideal. I watched it last winter when classes were canceled due to a snow storm. It was perfect like a cat's birthday.
Brad Neely is over the top, but right on target. He deftly renames almost every character Harry encounters (with "Catface McMeowmers" for Madam Hooch being my favorite). He explains the mind-boggling action that unfolds before your eyes like an excited, concerned friend who wants to make sure you appreciate the magical fantasies that wait around every enchanted corner. He roots Harry on during Quidditch, he breathlessly delivers a blow-by-blow account of the ogre fight, he seethes with contempt as he relays the shady shenanigans of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. He sucks you into the movie with the most ridiculous enthusiasm.
I don't think he ever really got the rights to do this, but you need to torrent it. It is one of the funniest things I've ever seen.
Pogo (formerly Fagottron)
Neil tells me that this DJ has been extracting music from old movies like Charlie and The Chocolate Factory and Alice in Wonderland for a while. Disney saw that he was rad and paid him to do a few for Up and Toy Story. They did make him switch from "Fagottron" to "Pogo" though. Anyway, his recuts are sick and I really like the idea of using classic movies as the base of a song. It's not even a sample at that point: it's the source. Also, this song is sweet.
Underwater Land
Now, we both know that Shel Silverstein was the man. His work as an artist, a poet, a musician, a lyricist have all fascinated me. I have more respect for Shel Silverstein's creativity, versatility, and ideology than I can say. The man wrote A Light in the Attic and The Giving Tree. He wrote A Boy Named Sue. He wrote Cover Of The Rolling Stone. He ruled it all.
It comes as no surprise that the nautically themed album he made with Pat Dailey is one of my favorite collections of chilled-out beach tunes around. Yeah, they're kid songs, but I don't care. They rock. If you're going down the shore anytime soon you should download this album, put it on your jambox, and crank that jawn on the beach. They're goofy songs, and Shel Silverstein's voice is ridiculous. You'll be glad you did.
Sucker Punch
I can't even think straight. Just watch this trailer and know that this movie will rock your socks.
Neil agreed, "Making movies, you couldn't do shit. Anything interracial? No. You couldn't have interracial romance. You couldn't have interracial smiling. Black lady smiles at a white man? Nope. Not happening. Oh, and anybody who does something wrong--like murders someone, or cheats on his wife, [basically breaks the social contract]--has to pay for it in the end. Like, they have to get punished."
I asked, "So bad guys could never get away with it?"
"No. It always had to catch up with them or the movie didn't happen."
It's crazy to think that certain stories simply weren't told because some bunch of geezers said gen pop couldn't handle it. People weren't allowed to think life was unfair, it was considered unsavory to smooch someone of a different race, one couldn't scope out this sexiness. Examining the struggle between shelter and exposure blew my mind. What were people so afraid of? Why was it so shocking? You like to think these agencies are protecting us, but it's weird to stop and think: protecting us from what? So anyway, that was Thursday.
Friday night we ran into a rag-tag band of Colonial soldiers. This militia of girls decked out like minutemen bellied up next to us at the bar in their tri-corner hats with Betsy Ross flags wrapped around their shoulders. We nodded as if to say, "Evening, ladies. You show those lobsterbacks how we do things stateside. Stay free."
Saturday, I ran around the city and set things on fire. Sunday I went swimming and hung out with the fam. Ok, I'm not trying to get all Xanga on you. I had fun this weekend, but there are cooler things to worry about than the my interactions with my supercool friends and family.
Garth Marenghi’s Darkplace
Darkplace is a show within a show. It's sort of like Kingdom Hospital, only difference is that it's perfect in every way--and it knows it. The actual program "Darkplace" is based in another layer of reality where moron/science-fiction writer/assclown/dream-weaver "Garth Marenghi" is called upon by the BBC to drag a spooky miniseries he threw together back in the '80s out from the the creepy recesses of his basement. He blows off the cobwebs and the Cheeto dust, ready to scare the pants off a new generation of "travelers" brave enough to venture into the horrifying world that is Garth Marenghi's idiot mind.
Garth and the rest of the cast have been called back for interviews which are scattered throughout the bone-chilling tales of supernatural terror which take place in Darkplace Hospital. Each asinine "Darkplace" character (like world-renowned GP Dr. Rick Dagless, suave sidekick Dr. Lucien Sanchez, unpredictable woman Dr. Liz Asher, or hardass Thornton Reed) is played by a two-bit, scrub actor on the alternate reality level (who, in turn, is played by an incredibly skilled, hilarious actor who lives in the real world that you and I inhabit). The sublevel actor-characters see Darkplace's re-release as a chance to discuss the ground-breaking work of art that they helped to create, but the implication is that the BBC just really needed to fill some air time and demanded that these people explain what the hell is even going on with this terrible show.
It's an extremely clever, very short series (all of six episodes). Steve Merchant has a hilarious cameo. I might have overcomplicated it, but whatever. You'll get it when you see it. It's amazing.
Wizard People, Dear Readers
Wizard People, Dear Readers is like Harry Potter RiffTrax only it's done by Brad Neely. You may or may not know that he is a genius (having seen The Professor Brothers and/or Washington.) He narrates The Sorcerer's Stone like a book on tape and it is ideal. I watched it last winter when classes were canceled due to a snow storm. It was perfect like a cat's birthday.
Brad Neely is over the top, but right on target. He deftly renames almost every character Harry encounters (with "Catface McMeowmers" for Madam Hooch being my favorite). He explains the mind-boggling action that unfolds before your eyes like an excited, concerned friend who wants to make sure you appreciate the magical fantasies that wait around every enchanted corner. He roots Harry on during Quidditch, he breathlessly delivers a blow-by-blow account of the ogre fight, he seethes with contempt as he relays the shady shenanigans of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. He sucks you into the movie with the most ridiculous enthusiasm.
I don't think he ever really got the rights to do this, but you need to torrent it. It is one of the funniest things I've ever seen.
Pogo (formerly Fagottron)
Neil tells me that this DJ has been extracting music from old movies like Charlie and The Chocolate Factory and Alice in Wonderland for a while. Disney saw that he was rad and paid him to do a few for Up and Toy Story. They did make him switch from "Fagottron" to "Pogo" though. Anyway, his recuts are sick and I really like the idea of using classic movies as the base of a song. It's not even a sample at that point: it's the source. Also, this song is sweet.
Underwater Land
Now, we both know that Shel Silverstein was the man. His work as an artist, a poet, a musician, a lyricist have all fascinated me. I have more respect for Shel Silverstein's creativity, versatility, and ideology than I can say. The man wrote A Light in the Attic and The Giving Tree. He wrote A Boy Named Sue. He wrote Cover Of The Rolling Stone. He ruled it all.
It comes as no surprise that the nautically themed album he made with Pat Dailey is one of my favorite collections of chilled-out beach tunes around. Yeah, they're kid songs, but I don't care. They rock. If you're going down the shore anytime soon you should download this album, put it on your jambox, and crank that jawn on the beach. They're goofy songs, and Shel Silverstein's voice is ridiculous. You'll be glad you did.
Sucker Punch
I can't even think straight. Just watch this trailer and know that this movie will rock your socks.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Itty Bitty Living Space
You know who needs to chill the hell out? Genies. Well, actually wish-granters of all kinds. Fairies, Magic Amulets, Witches, Elves, Wells, Magic Shells, whatever. It's like all they want to do with their limitless power is provide you with a perspective that makes you appreciate your life as it is. They eerily warn you in their breathy, condescending voice that you should "be careful what you wish for." But guess what, it's not a warning. It's a message that they are obsessed with.
Off the top of my head, I can think of like 734 stories about people getting schooled by the old Wish Switcheroo (five times fast. Go.) Homer gets repeatedly screwed by a cursed monkey's paw in Treehouse of Horror II. In the X-Files episode Je Souhaite, Moulder matches wits with a nitpicky genie who fucks people over with cruel irony when their wishes aren't specific enough. In the Buffy episode The Wish, Cordelia confides in a new girl at school--who happens to be an evil granter of vengeful wishes--that she'd rather Buffy had never come to Sunnydale. Through cunning amulet use, the wish is granted, thus destroying the balance of good and evil and plunging Sunnydale into a dark alternate reality where vampires run shit. Plus side: Willow is a vampire in this reality and she totally bites Cordelia. Nice.
See? These jerks never had the slightest intention of making anyone's dreams come true. All they care about is pounding this stupid message into their victims brains. It shows a complete lack of faith on the genie's part. They're all, "You don't even know what sort of power your dealing with, do you? Here, I'll pretend to grant your wish, but really I'll just set you up for disaster so that later you'll realize what a fool you were to tinker with the delicate flow of time and the fragile frame of reality." FUCK YOU. I just want to be able to set things on fire with my mind. It's that simple. Make it happen.
Side note: If I were Johnny Storm, I'd walk around with chocolate bars, marshmallows, and graham crackers all the time (especially in the winter). Whenever I saw a cute group of girls hanging out, I'd walk up and be like, "Excuse me, do you guys like s'mores?" If they say "No" or "What?" or "Please leave, creep." I'd be like, "You're killing me, Smalls." But if they go, "Yea." I'd toss them the ingredients and be all, "Flame on." BEST PICKUP SCENARIO EVER.
Long story short (too late?), be careful if you ever run into a genie, guys. Chances are they just want to teach you a valuable lesson that you'll forget in a month or two. Word things carefully and never forget to say "please" and "thank you." Genies are huge on manners and they'll pull your card for less.
Off the top of my head, I can think of like 734 stories about people getting schooled by the old Wish Switcheroo (five times fast. Go.) Homer gets repeatedly screwed by a cursed monkey's paw in Treehouse of Horror II. In the X-Files episode Je Souhaite, Moulder matches wits with a nitpicky genie who fucks people over with cruel irony when their wishes aren't specific enough. In the Buffy episode The Wish, Cordelia confides in a new girl at school--who happens to be an evil granter of vengeful wishes--that she'd rather Buffy had never come to Sunnydale. Through cunning amulet use, the wish is granted, thus destroying the balance of good and evil and plunging Sunnydale into a dark alternate reality where vampires run shit. Plus side: Willow is a vampire in this reality and she totally bites Cordelia. Nice.
See? These jerks never had the slightest intention of making anyone's dreams come true. All they care about is pounding this stupid message into their victims brains. It shows a complete lack of faith on the genie's part. They're all, "You don't even know what sort of power your dealing with, do you? Here, I'll pretend to grant your wish, but really I'll just set you up for disaster so that later you'll realize what a fool you were to tinker with the delicate flow of time and the fragile frame of reality." FUCK YOU. I just want to be able to set things on fire with my mind. It's that simple. Make it happen.
Side note: If I were Johnny Storm, I'd walk around with chocolate bars, marshmallows, and graham crackers all the time (especially in the winter). Whenever I saw a cute group of girls hanging out, I'd walk up and be like, "Excuse me, do you guys like s'mores?" If they say "No" or "What?" or "Please leave, creep." I'd be like, "You're killing me, Smalls." But if they go, "Yea." I'd toss them the ingredients and be all, "Flame on." BEST PICKUP SCENARIO EVER.
Long story short (too late?), be careful if you ever run into a genie, guys. Chances are they just want to teach you a valuable lesson that you'll forget in a month or two. Word things carefully and never forget to say "please" and "thank you." Genies are huge on manners and they'll pull your card for less.
Monday, July 26, 2010
When "It" Simply Will Not Do.
Hey, guys. You are "guys" right? Of course you are, because I use "guys" as a sexually homogeneous collective noun. I use it all the time. I mean, I probably wouldn't use it for a group of really hot girls (that's when I whip out my "Check out that skulk of superfine foxes." type vocabulary. [Animal group names are hilarious and fun to use. Learn them.])
But, quirky words aside, let's be serious: sometimes it's hard to tell just what sort of junk a person has stashed in his?/her? trunk. And I'm not even talking about the Pat-esque amorphous humans you see on the street. These days, there are actually attractive people who make you scratch your head. Ask any 15 year-old girl. They're all dying to get their smooch on with a JoBro or a Beiber (who I am fairly certain is--indeed--a woman.) And it's not just the effeminate boy that turns the tables, there are a few female sex symbols that would make Macho Man Randy Savage seem dainty. Lady Gaga is an intriguing specimen. She's like Tank Girl come to life with sweet pipes. Hot. Suicide Girls have taken the place of the docile bombshell pinup girl with a very scruffy look and a tomboy attitude. Things are getting interesting; that's all I'm saying.
Ok, this isn't anything new. We've all seen Some Like It Hot, Tootsie, and Mrs. Doubtfire. We've listened to Lola and King For A Day. We like blurring the lines and playing dress-up every now and again. It doesn't have to be gay--not that there's anything wrong with that. We've come to terms with these tendencies as a modern, ultra-connected society and now it's only the really weird stuff that offends anyone. So before we completely break down the walls of sexism and gender identification, let's take a look back at a few cartoon characters that always confused the hell out of me.
Samus Aran
Samus is kind of like the impossible daughter of Boba Fett and Mega Man. If that makes any sense...wait, no it doesn't. BECAUSE SHE'S A GIRL. Now you know how millions of kids felt after blasting through wave after wave of deadly alien forces, cold capping Metroids like it was their job. You save the universe and wait for Samus to remove his helmet just so he can take a refreshing swig of cold beer. Guess what? Samus strips down and you get a load of this smoldering sexpot.
What is she going to take a celebratory swig of? Arbor Mist? Fuck that. AUUUUGH. All this time, I've been playing as a girl? But he was so cool. Did you see that armor? I should go shower: I probably have like a stage 4 cootie infection right now!
Alright, calm down. Maybe girls don't have to dress to kill. Maybe they can roll up into little balls and set timed mines and stuff. Well played, Samus, you dangerous, sexy orphan, you.
Link
Voted "Hottest Video Game Character" by the gay/lesbian magazine Out, Link is certainly known as an all-around cutey. Straight, gay, man, woman: you have to admit Link is a sexy beast. I remember playing Ocarina of Time as an impressionable young boy and constantly referring to Link as "Zelda." I'm pretty sure I knew that this was a girl's name and I'm pretty sure I knew that you were supposed to give the hero of Hyrule a name of your choosing (I remember laughing every time I'd hang out with my brother and the great Deku tree would be like "Lumpy, do you accept the quest? You must be brave. Go fight Ganon. Save us, Lumpy.") And I'm pretty sure I knew Link was a boy. But none of that stopped me; it was just second nature to refer to such a confusing character without using "he" or "she." Zelda was the name of the game (quite literally) and it seemed to fit fine.
And, dude. Let's be real. You put Zelda and Link side-by-side, take away her crown and his sword...they're pretty much the same character. He's just a beautiful badass. Nothing wrong with that. Props, you weirdo little elf guy.
Nermal
If Nermal is a boy why does he have such nice eyelashes? And why is he so cute? And peppy? Ok, granted, he is a kitten. But still, it seems much stranger when he can talk (can Garfield talk? It's more like telepathy, right? Whatever.)
All of his tendencies and his overexcited, bubbly personality lead the reader to assume that he is an adorable little girl cat. It probably wouldn't have blown my mind to learn the truth were he not so catty (pardon my idiot pun) about Garfield's age and weight. He's constantly flaunting his rad kitten body and busting Garfield's balls like some 17 year old cheerleader hussy. But yea, maybe my misguided assumption is just a mark of my own sexist beliefs. You've taught us all a valuable lesson, Nermal. Also, would it be gay if I petted you? Ok, cool. Nevermind.
The End.
But, quirky words aside, let's be serious: sometimes it's hard to tell just what sort of junk a person has stashed in his?/her? trunk. And I'm not even talking about the Pat-esque amorphous humans you see on the street. These days, there are actually attractive people who make you scratch your head. Ask any 15 year-old girl. They're all dying to get their smooch on with a JoBro or a Beiber (who I am fairly certain is--indeed--a woman.) And it's not just the effeminate boy that turns the tables, there are a few female sex symbols that would make Macho Man Randy Savage seem dainty. Lady Gaga is an intriguing specimen. She's like Tank Girl come to life with sweet pipes. Hot. Suicide Girls have taken the place of the docile bombshell pinup girl with a very scruffy look and a tomboy attitude. Things are getting interesting; that's all I'm saying.
Ok, this isn't anything new. We've all seen Some Like It Hot, Tootsie, and Mrs. Doubtfire. We've listened to Lola and King For A Day. We like blurring the lines and playing dress-up every now and again. It doesn't have to be gay--not that there's anything wrong with that. We've come to terms with these tendencies as a modern, ultra-connected society and now it's only the really weird stuff that offends anyone. So before we completely break down the walls of sexism and gender identification, let's take a look back at a few cartoon characters that always confused the hell out of me.
Samus Aran
Samus is kind of like the impossible daughter of Boba Fett and Mega Man. If that makes any sense...wait, no it doesn't. BECAUSE SHE'S A GIRL. Now you know how millions of kids felt after blasting through wave after wave of deadly alien forces, cold capping Metroids like it was their job. You save the universe and wait for Samus to remove his helmet just so he can take a refreshing swig of cold beer. Guess what? Samus strips down and you get a load of this smoldering sexpot.
What is she going to take a celebratory swig of? Arbor Mist? Fuck that. AUUUUGH. All this time, I've been playing as a girl? But he was so cool. Did you see that armor? I should go shower: I probably have like a stage 4 cootie infection right now!
Alright, calm down. Maybe girls don't have to dress to kill. Maybe they can roll up into little balls and set timed mines and stuff. Well played, Samus, you dangerous, sexy orphan, you.
Link
Voted "Hottest Video Game Character" by the gay/lesbian magazine Out, Link is certainly known as an all-around cutey. Straight, gay, man, woman: you have to admit Link is a sexy beast. I remember playing Ocarina of Time as an impressionable young boy and constantly referring to Link as "Zelda." I'm pretty sure I knew that this was a girl's name and I'm pretty sure I knew that you were supposed to give the hero of Hyrule a name of your choosing (I remember laughing every time I'd hang out with my brother and the great Deku tree would be like "Lumpy, do you accept the quest? You must be brave. Go fight Ganon. Save us, Lumpy.") And I'm pretty sure I knew Link was a boy. But none of that stopped me; it was just second nature to refer to such a confusing character without using "he" or "she." Zelda was the name of the game (quite literally) and it seemed to fit fine.
And, dude. Let's be real. You put Zelda and Link side-by-side, take away her crown and his sword...they're pretty much the same character. He's just a beautiful badass. Nothing wrong with that. Props, you weirdo little elf guy.
Nermal
If Nermal is a boy why does he have such nice eyelashes? And why is he so cute? And peppy? Ok, granted, he is a kitten. But still, it seems much stranger when he can talk (can Garfield talk? It's more like telepathy, right? Whatever.)
All of his tendencies and his overexcited, bubbly personality lead the reader to assume that he is an adorable little girl cat. It probably wouldn't have blown my mind to learn the truth were he not so catty (pardon my idiot pun) about Garfield's age and weight. He's constantly flaunting his rad kitten body and busting Garfield's balls like some 17 year old cheerleader hussy. But yea, maybe my misguided assumption is just a mark of my own sexist beliefs. You've taught us all a valuable lesson, Nermal. Also, would it be gay if I petted you? Ok, cool. Nevermind.
The End.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
This Awesome Blog
Because I know Dan loves it when I right super short entries on this blog I will make this brief. Can we all give Daniel a round of applause for the picture at the top of this page! I had no idea Dan was taking that picture, and I doubt Andrew did either but it is an absolutely perfect picture for this. The only thing missing (thus making it not perfect and making me a liar, which I'm fine with) is Dan also not paying attention to the camera or any of the people in the pic.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Hip Kids Make The World A Better Place
Hey, guys. Do you know what the truest form of art is? It is the anonymous contribution of original creation meant to entertain or stimulate the general public. You have to realize that there are people who see the potential in free space. They have the skill and the confidence to selflessly express their inspiration and provide perspective to an otherwise minimally dimensional reality. I do believe that this is the most honorable and genuine reason that art exists. Some of us just want the world to be sweet as hell and they make it so because they can.
Please don't think that I'm saying that writers, musicians, photographers, and painters shouldn't be paid for what they do. On the contrary: it is of the utmost importance that a society recognize and support key sources of cultural development and respect the worth of intellectual property. But ultimately, the true value of a work of art cannot be gauged by its price. I remember walking through a thrift store, pointing out a particularly atrocious painting and remarking, "Dude, this looks like something somebody would buy in a gallery in SoHo for like $13 million." It was that bad.
But, I'm not here to hate on modern expressionism (which I'm sure I don't understand.) And granted, I don't know the first thing about fine art. But, I do know, like, up to the seventh thing about street/amateur art. Call me a hoodlum, a street rat, a diamond in the rough--if you must--but, I respect the motives behind such impermanent productions more than the meticulous precision of any well-preserved masterpiece you could find in a showroom or an exhibit. I'm a simple dude with a taste for the ephemeral. I like my art to hide in weird places, to highlight the unique, to jazz up the mundane, and to serve as a fleeting reminder that life is a wacky thing.
Today, I tip my hat to the pure-hearted artists who pick interesting mediums and don't give a damn what critics say. They are brave and innovative; they are many. Isn't it nice to know they're just like you (only cooler)?
First, a bit of clever, helpful interactive art. Think about feeling lost or disoriented. Now, think about being hustled and bustled out of a sweaty subway by a heartless mob of New Yorkers. Now, smash those two feelings together. NOW QUICK, think of seeing an awesome piece of art that tells you exactly what direction you're facing and perfectly reacclimates you to the world of London Above (and by "London" I, of course, mean "New York.") How do you feel? Probably as thankful and psyched for life as the lucky people who spy these little compass roses outside popular NYC subway stops.
That's right. Some kind kid with a can of spray paint and a soft spot for Pi has been helping direct subway-goers as they venture topside. I first heard about this from The Daily What and it seems to have become quite the big deal. The compasses all seem to be oriented correctly and are a snazzy, welcome addition to the otherwise lame sidewalks of NYC. Whoever you are, keep up the fine work.
Secondly, this adorable nonsense. I've seen it around Philly and a friend of mine has observed similar events in New York. Somebody (or something) is a master knitter and is swaddling local bikes and bike racks with custom fit sweaters. Yea, that's right. Look.
Who does that? Somebody that doesn't want those poor bicycles to freeze to death, that's who. Thanks, sir. P.S. That tree monster is the cutest yarn monster I've ever even seen.
Thirdly, children, check out these dogs. Somebody perfectly captured the "Yea, I'm gonna pee on this." attitude of a dog in paper mache and hid it in the tunnel under the Art Museum. Naturally, I slink through that tunnel whenever I can. I was so happy to find this scruffy guy and his little friend.
They're both gone now. The little one was stolen about a week after I found them and the big one disappeared soon after that. Like I said, good art doesn't stick around.
And finally, I wanted to mention this cool webcomic. This is slightly off topic and more authored than the other random pieces I've stumbled onto. But, I still feel that these guys are jotting down comic gold and sending it out into the internet for free. They seem to operate with the same open, sharing mindset. Also, the comics are hilarious. It's Left-Handed Toons. A ton of the comics make me go "YEA!" for a variety of reasons. There's even a bizarro side to the site (which you can find if you're very clever--like me.) But yea, check it out, hit random a few times. They're funny.
Ok, I drank a ton of coffee this morning and I didn't know when to stop writing. That's what that was about. Whatever, sue me. Bye, guys.
Please don't think that I'm saying that writers, musicians, photographers, and painters shouldn't be paid for what they do. On the contrary: it is of the utmost importance that a society recognize and support key sources of cultural development and respect the worth of intellectual property. But ultimately, the true value of a work of art cannot be gauged by its price. I remember walking through a thrift store, pointing out a particularly atrocious painting and remarking, "Dude, this looks like something somebody would buy in a gallery in SoHo for like $13 million." It was that bad.
But, I'm not here to hate on modern expressionism (which I'm sure I don't understand.) And granted, I don't know the first thing about fine art. But, I do know, like, up to the seventh thing about street/amateur art. Call me a hoodlum, a street rat, a diamond in the rough--if you must--but, I respect the motives behind such impermanent productions more than the meticulous precision of any well-preserved masterpiece you could find in a showroom or an exhibit. I'm a simple dude with a taste for the ephemeral. I like my art to hide in weird places, to highlight the unique, to jazz up the mundane, and to serve as a fleeting reminder that life is a wacky thing.
Today, I tip my hat to the pure-hearted artists who pick interesting mediums and don't give a damn what critics say. They are brave and innovative; they are many. Isn't it nice to know they're just like you (only cooler)?
First, a bit of clever, helpful interactive art. Think about feeling lost or disoriented. Now, think about being hustled and bustled out of a sweaty subway by a heartless mob of New Yorkers. Now, smash those two feelings together. NOW QUICK, think of seeing an awesome piece of art that tells you exactly what direction you're facing and perfectly reacclimates you to the world of London Above (and by "London" I, of course, mean "New York.") How do you feel? Probably as thankful and psyched for life as the lucky people who spy these little compass roses outside popular NYC subway stops.
That's right. Some kind kid with a can of spray paint and a soft spot for Pi has been helping direct subway-goers as they venture topside. I first heard about this from The Daily What and it seems to have become quite the big deal. The compasses all seem to be oriented correctly and are a snazzy, welcome addition to the otherwise lame sidewalks of NYC. Whoever you are, keep up the fine work.
Secondly, this adorable nonsense. I've seen it around Philly and a friend of mine has observed similar events in New York. Somebody (or something) is a master knitter and is swaddling local bikes and bike racks with custom fit sweaters. Yea, that's right. Look.
Who does that? Somebody that doesn't want those poor bicycles to freeze to death, that's who. Thanks, sir. P.S. That tree monster is the cutest yarn monster I've ever even seen.
Thirdly, children, check out these dogs. Somebody perfectly captured the "Yea, I'm gonna pee on this." attitude of a dog in paper mache and hid it in the tunnel under the Art Museum. Naturally, I slink through that tunnel whenever I can. I was so happy to find this scruffy guy and his little friend.
They're both gone now. The little one was stolen about a week after I found them and the big one disappeared soon after that. Like I said, good art doesn't stick around.
And finally, I wanted to mention this cool webcomic. This is slightly off topic and more authored than the other random pieces I've stumbled onto. But, I still feel that these guys are jotting down comic gold and sending it out into the internet for free. They seem to operate with the same open, sharing mindset. Also, the comics are hilarious. It's Left-Handed Toons. A ton of the comics make me go "YEA!" for a variety of reasons. There's even a bizarro side to the site (which you can find if you're very clever--like me.) But yea, check it out, hit random a few times. They're funny.
Ok, I drank a ton of coffee this morning and I didn't know when to stop writing. That's what that was about. Whatever, sue me. Bye, guys.
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