Archive for the 'Movies' Category

The Great Global Warming Myth Debunked In A Few Words

Eco-economics is not a word one ever hopes to see when one clicks the magical/terrible “NEXT BLOG” button. To use it is a sin against both language and the very eyes in my head. It sounds even worse, as though it were coming from the mouth of a distressed stammering dolphin trying in vain to explain to a simpleton fisherman’s son that he is not just a big tuna and should be cut loose from the net immediately. We’ll let that go however and discuss this blog. We seem to be in some strange Tolkienesque fantasy world where the talk of global warming is given credence by odd little creatures with dirty feet (have you ever met a ‘Save The Earth Type’ with clean feet?).

Let me tell the author this: There was a day in 1896 (or thereabouts) that was hotter than any days that have happened recently. Do you see how I just defeated science there? It was hotter on a day back then ergo global warming is a myth. So-called scienctific evidence torn to shreds in seconds by an infallible argument. There is only one scientist and He is atop His great cloud in space, stroking His white beard, rewarding His children with some nice f*****g weather.

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Bleeding And Needing Stitches

I don’t need to tell you why, do I? I don’t need to tell you why looking at this website here caused me to collapse and smash my head off the corner of a marble coffee table, do I? I don’t need to tell you that staggering around my house, naked, concussed, salivating, screaming and looking for a thread and needle with which to mend my ruptured head with felt better than looking at the aforementioned monstrosity, do I? If I do need to tell you these things then you are without salvation and may you fester in the squalor of your own ignorance you dirty f***s.

Oh, Bill Says, Does He?

I knew after a mere solitary second of reading Bill’s”review” of Aurora Borealis that I had to see this movie. Not because Bill had recommended it (I have no idea if he/she did or not, I fell asleep halfway through reading his/her foul prose) but because I knew after the choice of words he/she used in that opening sentence that this was a man/lady who was not capable of being correct about anything that required the use of a mind. The words he/she used were “For”, “many”, “so”, “people”, “is”, “the”, “dominant”, “family”, “factor”, “life” and “in”. I have rearranged the insipid words obviously so as not to distress you but the more acute among you have probably figured it out (much to your pain and anguish, I am sure).

I wanted to see the movie so that I could write him/she a wonderful letter about how tragically mistaken every single one of her/his opinions were. I would have written it on the finest paper with my finest ink and used my finest quill.

Unfortunately, whilst inside the cinema complex, having already purchased my ticket, I overheard a young girl, who was eating a diseased hot-dog, express her love for the Pirates of the Caribbean series. I was so disgusted by this that I simply couldn’t help myself from vomiting over her arms and was promptly beaten to within an inch of my life by her neanderthal mother.

Still, if you need a view on it, simply invert every one of Bill’s rancid observations.

Volver Review And Borat Too

CruzI go to the cinema that I believe to be the quietest in the whole city. If I could afford to buy every seat in the cinema and sit alone, I would. I cannot stand to see the skin and bones of my kind dotted around me when I am experiencing art.

Before I enter the building I see a poster for Volver, by Pedro Almodovar, the movie I intend to go and inhale. The poster is primarily a headshot of Penelope Cruz. I stop and look into her dark eyes. As the rain makes a cruel mockery of my thinning hair, I feel a sadness well up in me. A deep, profound, unbearable sadness. I suffer this way because I know that no woman that could ever love me will make me feel the desire and unconditional love that I experience when I look into Penelope Cruz’s incredible eyes- nay, a grotesque, glossy paper imitation of her eyes.

I feel myself well up and I know that if just looking at her poster for five seconds brings on this intense melancholy then watching her heavenly flicker for two hours would leave me suicidal and unable to remove myself from my cinema seat. Another violent ejection by unsympathetic security staff would be the only thing that could stop me from sitting there until my pitiful, lonely death.

I know that to see Volver would be dangerous and reckless and so I instead go to see Borat. There, I weep for the laughing, screaming skin and bone around me who cannot see that, behind the clown with the moustache, they are watching some of the most savage acts of brutality ever commited by man or beast.