Friday, February 29, 2008
Ok, I've been quite the slacker of late, but it's been a fecal week and I've been sulking. But things are beginning to pull out, so here's a bit of fun while I concoct some real content for you, courtesy of Sheeps & Turtle.
Movie Quote Meme
1. Pick 10 of your favorite movies.
2. Go to IMDb and find a quote from each movie.
3. Post them here for everyone to guess.
5. NO GOOGLING/using IMDb search functions
1. I can't see a goddamn thing.
I like griping.
2.Scorn and defiance, slight regard, contempt and any thing that may not misbecome the mighty sender, doth he prize you at. Thus says my king.
3.Yes, I'm shattered, but it's nothing that some sleep and a good fuck wouldn't cure, as my sister used to say.
4.Anyone who isn't dead or from another plane of existence would do well to cover their ears right about now.
5. I remember that sound. That's a bad sound.
6. You can't grow a good hot dog indoors. Yankee Stadium. September. The hot dogs have been boiling since opening day in April. Now that's a hot dog.
7.Look, if you want to torture me, spank me, lick me, do it. But if this poetry shit continues, shoot me now, please.
8.You're acting like a pack of rabid dogs. And that, gentlemen, simply will not do.
9. I'm impatient with stupidity. My people have learned to live without it.
10.Keep your damn filthy bones outta my mouth.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Saturday, February 23, 2008
While I may have yet to experience that incredible pleasure of seeing some souped up drivetard who just cut me off get pulled over, I just read a news story that brings a warm glow to the cockles...or maybe in the sub-cockle area. Steve Warshak, creator of Enzyte male enhancement pills, has been found guilty of conspiracy to commit mail fraud, bank fraud and money laundering. I don't know if those of you outside the US have had to put up with the 'Smiling Bob' commercials, but they are among, if not the most annoying ads in history. Warshak's company is accused of swindling customers out of $100 million by manipulating credit card purchases, using misleading advertising, and a refusal to honor return requests. Former employees also say that they manufactured false doctor endorsements and customer satisfaction surveys. Warshak, and his mother Harriett, could face 20 years in prison and millions in fines. You can read the full story here.
I wonder if Steve will be upset if his cell mate used his product.
Friday, February 22, 2008
I haven't been this stoked over a TV show in a long time. Terminator: The Sarah Conner Chronicles is awesome! If you liked the Terminator movies then you will love this show. I was worried that it would simply ignore things established in the movies and make up their own mythos, but the show's makers are doing a fantastic job sticking with the world created by James Cameron, while putting in a whole bunch of new twists. Lena Headey plays Sarah, and she is fantastic. She has kept the simmering, moody intensity that Linda Hamilton had, but is nicely building her own version of the character. Thomas Dekker plays the young John Conner with more maturity than we've seen in either his very young self, or the 'I don't care anymore' version of T3. But what makes the show for me is Summer Glau as Cameron, a reprogrammed terminator sent back in time to help and protect John. She is Data as a fully functional killing machine. She observes, and mimics, and 'freaks the hell' out of people, and while she is drop dead gorgeous, she is menacing as all get out. Last night, as Mrs. Marius and I were watching this week's ep, I was actually disappointed when the end of the show came. The pacing, and tension were so skillfully done that I didn't even realize that an hour had passed and it was time for the show to end. That, to me, is the true sign of a great program.
Anyway, if you are a fan of the franchise I highly recommend this program. I don't think you'll be disappointed.
Monday, February 18, 2008
I've been looking at that picture, but I can't make out the places where one country ends and another begins. Yet people get so bent out of shape over that arbitrary distinction. Today Kosovo declared their independance from Serbia. I don't know the history of this announcement, and I don't need to. A group of people consider themselves different enough from the majority of their parent country to wish to be their own country. So what? Let them go. I have never understood why countries get so upset when part of the country wants to calve off. And I include our own Civil War in that. I suppose we like to hide behind the pleasant fiction that the Civil War was fought to end slavery, but really it was about real estate. Boundaries are so foolish, to me, and to go to war over a voluntary exodus seems utterly pointless. Let the Kosovans have their country. Let the Basque govern themselves. Let Quebec wall off their island and annoy only each other. (just kidding, Stinky) When one nation forceably annexes another, that's grounds for battle. But when one area wants to become autonomous, and there are enough people in that group to warrant it, I say let them go. What is the big deal?
Lord Marius of Mariusland
I make the Quebec joke based solely on my experience with retired Quebecois who come to Florida in huge RV's and drive, if possible, even worse than we do.
The only two people from Quebec that I actually know, i.e. Stinkypaw and a lovely young actress named Cora Lebuis, are wonderful folks of whom I am quite fond.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
First, here are some before and after pics of my shop at work.
Here's what it looked like when I got there:
And now for something completely different, here's one of the reasons I love living in Florida, other than the fact that if it gets much warmer I'll have to turn the A/C on, these guys showed up in our front yard last week:
Ok, kiddies. Not much to say, but I hope you dig the pics. Have a groovy week, and I'll see you soon.
Love and wildlife,
Saturday, February 16, 2008
One of the few perks from working the movie was that the hard put-upon prop ladies let my collegue and I pick from some of the furniture and things that they did not want to have to haul away. So I got a credenza-type thingy for the living room, and an eliptical trainer. Since my knees are two barely functioning, rusty hinges of grinding bone, the eliptical is the only type of cardio equipment I can use anymore. So after much drama in getting this gigantic steel beast home, I got it set up today and went to do my first real work out in quite some time. I lasted 5 minutes! At the lowest resistance setting! I am decrepit.
But at least this picture made me laugh.
Marius the Elder
Friday, February 15, 2008
In yet another example of the evils of labeling, my wife has a pack of Oil of Olay facial wipes that say on the package, 'opthamologist tested, dermatologist tested'. The obvious effect is that most sheeple would look at that and think, 'hmmm, if doctors tested it, it must be safe.' The thinking person, on the other hand, might just wonder where the rest of those sentences are. It could very well be that the opthamologist tested the wipes, and then screamed,'For the love of all that's holy, keep these death rags as far from human eyes as possible!!' And the dermatologist may have died horribly in a pool of his own melted flesh. Of course, I doubt either of those things occured, but those inferences are every bit as valid given the information provided.
New Improved Marius, now with clorophyll!!
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Preface: In general I don't like musicals. On stage they are usually vapid, trite, story-less excursions into the pointless depths kitsch and glitz. On screen they are usually even worse. I can only think of two movie musicals that deserve more than a single viewing...Little Shop of Horrors and Chicago. At least that was how I thought until last night.
Across the Universe is a love story, and an anti-war story, and a buddy story, and a fish-out-of-water story, and a history lesson all rolled up in the glorious music of the Beatles. Jude, a Liverpudlian, travels to 1960's America, befriends a bunch of NYC bohemians, and falls in love. That about sums up the spine of the flick, but it's the flesh on those fairly ordinary bones that make this a wonderful film. Everyone in the movie is named from a Beatles song; Max, Sadie, Prudence, Lucy, JoJo, etc. The New York they live in is a stylized mixture of Bob Mackie and The Wiz. The costumes and settings are timeless, yet period. And the music...ah the music. One would expect that a musical that draws all its songs from a single group's work would at times feel contrived in order to make the songs fit, but that never happens. I credit both the film makers, and the Beatles, for finding just the right songs for every single moment. And many times the meaning of a song, for example I Want You So Bad, can be both tender and frightening simultaneously. The vocal performances, with a few notable exceptions, are marvelous. Those exceptions are Bono doing a very stilted American accent while performing I Am The Walrus, and Eddie Izzard's spoken word version of Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite , but they were minor flaws in this gem of a movie. At the risk of sounding cliché I literally laughed, cried, and thought during the flick. Couched in the symbolism of the Viet Nam protests were very relevant jabs at Iraq, and the ending, while predictable, just managed to avoid being sickeningly sweet.
This may not be for everyone, and it is a tad long, but if a well performed, beautifully staged, and very artistic movie is your cup of tea, then put the kettle on and settle back for a lovely ride.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
I'm not sure if any of my friends from back in good ole Pineville still come 'round these parts, but for the rest of you here's a little taste of just why we had to get the f*ck out of there. We may enjoy medieval reenactment, but living in the Dark Ages all the time got old fast.
Livingston Parish Council refuses to repeal soothsaying ban
Associated Press Reporting
A proposal to repeal the Livingston Parish ordinance outlawing soothsaying died in silence last night before the Parish Council.
The council ignored the recommendation of its attorney, Blayne Honeycutt, who had advised council members to repeal the ordinance in the face of a Wiccan minister's federal lawsuit, which Honeycutt said the parish probably will lose.
A Wiccan woman asked the council to repeal the ordinance, which she said makes unlawful a practice of a recognized religion.
When the council failed to act on his recommendation, Honeycutt advised council members to hire an attorney who specializes in such matters to handle the case.
At a previous council meeting Honeycutt advised the council to repeal the ordinance, saying he was unaware of soothsaying or fortune telling presenting a problem in the parish.
The suit, filed in U.S. District Court Middle District of Louisiana, seeks to have the ordinance declared unconstitutional, seeks a permanent injunction prohibiting the parish from enforcing the ordinance and asks the court to assess damages.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Has this ever happened to you? You're watching Jeopardy, and a clue about some musty old tome by Proust or Dickens comes up, and you shoot out the answer like you were the author's best friend? Then, as the first commercial break begins you realize that while you may have heard of Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe, the only reason you can answer any question about it is because someone else got it wrong three seasons ago? This happens to me all the time. Little snippets of data are lodged in my brain and come out sounding like full-fledged knowledge when they more closely resemble the wafer-thin skin of a grape. We have discussed 'The Classics' here before, and my general ignorance thereof, and I have tried to rectify that over the last couple of years. I read The Catcher In The Rye, and it was a fun read. I tried to read Moby Dick, but Melville rambles so far and so often from the main story that I lost interest. I tried to read 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, but Verne's main goal seemed more to list the Latin taxonomies of every marine species known to men at the time rather than to tell a tale. And my most recent failure, Don Quixote, just seemed to go on forever. So here's where you come in. Tell me of a classic novel that you think is something no human should go to the grave in ignorance of.
And here's a bonus question. I was trying to think about the first non-children's song I ever remember hearing. I am pleased to say that mine is Bungalo Bill, by The Beatles. I say I'm pleased because it is one of the more absurdist songs they ever recorded, and I'm rather fond of absurdism. So what's your earliest musical recollection?
In Nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, amen.
Wow, time for another obit. Roy Scheider died yesterday of complications arising from a staph infection. He was 75. Most people think immediately of Scheider's Chief Brody from the Jaws movies, but I'll always remember him as Dr. Heywood Floyd in the marvellous, if massively ignored, sequel to 2001, 2010: The Year We Make Contact. Then there was his deliciously creepy and hedonistic Bob Fosse avatar in 1979's All That Jazz. And I'll even give him credit for trying to shine through the terrible writing of the network crapfest called Seaquest: DSV. He was a fine actor, and will be missed. Rest in peace, Chief.
Farewell and adieu to you fine Spanish ladies
Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain...
yeah, I suck.
by James Joyce
Most people are convinced that you don't make any sense, but compared
to what else you could say, what you're saying now makes tons of sense. What people do
understand about you is your vulgarity, which has convinced people that you are at once
brilliant and repugnant. Meanwhile you are content to wander around aimlessly, taking in
the sights and sounds of the city. What you see is vast, almost limitless, and brings you
additional fame. When no one is looking, you dream of being a Greek folk hero.
Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Alas, tis a sad day for the Intertubes. The Purple Pigeon, who's blog I have enjoyed for an all-too brief time, has announced that the slings and arrows of the real world are calling her away from blogging. She has recently finished her schooling, told the corporate weasels for whom she labored goodbye, and is beginning a life of entrepreneurial endeavor that shall leave little time to share her exploits online. While we here at The Corner certainly understand, we would like her to know that there will always be a warm kettle and plate of biscuits ready whenever she wishes to drop by. And when your jewelry business is ready for an American outlet, the linkage is but a comment away. (as for the sudden illusion that there are enough people involved in creating The Corner that it warrants the pronoun 'we', I shall be seeking counselling soon)
Adieu, mon ami. And good luck with everything.
Monday, February 04, 2008
Well, that's better. Last year's Superbowl was a major yawnfest, but not so this year. None of my teams were in the game, but I was rooting for the Patriots since it would have been cool to see the perfect cap to a perfect season. Everyone expected the Pats to trounce the Giants, and everyone was wrong. This was a great game. Both defences were virtually unstoppable, especially the Giants' who beat the living crap out of Tom Brady, and both offences were nearly flawless. It was a very low scoring game, and I expect there are a lot of people in Vegas who lost major cash over the spread. In my opinion Bill Belachick blew the game when the Pats had a chance to get a field goal from 42 yards out, but instead tried to convert on 4th and 13, and blew it. Those three points could have made the difference. But, that being said, the Giants thoroughly earned their rings last night. They played a marvellous game, and the game winning play occurred with 1 second left on the clock. No matter who you were rooting for, it was a great game, and a worthy Superbowl. Even Tom Petty's halftime performance was fun and classy. Well done, NFL.
Now back to my sportsless life.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Ok, time for another song related cliche. On the same CD that inspired the 'she meant nothing to me' question is a song with the chorus "A heart that hurts is a heart that works". Faulkner once wrote “Given the choice between the experience of pain and nothing, I would choose pain”. Do you agree with that? I used to, but after two years of near constant worry, angst, and aggro I'm starting to think that maybe a few months of emotional flatline would be welcome. But, then again, I've never experienced a total lack of emotion, so I can't really say if it would be restful or not. I remember back when my father was alive he got into Trancendental Meditation. We all gathered in the living room, and he tried to help us to totally clear our minds and think of nothing. I must have been all of 8 years old, and was totally unable to stop thinking. Many years later I studied Yoga, and again during the sessions we were supposed to focus solely on our breathing, and on the body twisting poses we were attempting to accomplish. And again, I was never able to shut my mind down. So I cannot imagine what it feels like to experience nothing, which may be why that is my greatest fear...that death is simply nothing. Oblivion. No more me.
Any thoughts, class?
is anyone else having trouble with blogspot's spell check?
Saturday, February 02, 2008
Apparently we're huge in England.
General Health News
Posted online: Saturday, January 26, 2008 at 12:26:45 PM
British Lasses Think ‘Big’ Of The Name Dave
Men with the name ‘Dave’ are in for a pleasant surprise, for a poll has revealed that Brit women think that blokes with the title are the best endowed.
But sad news for the name ‘Ray’, as it conjures up the most disappointing visions in the trouser department.
John Sewell, boss of onepoll.com, which questioned 1,000 British women to list the monikers, which sounded most, and least, likely to belong to a well-packaged man.
“It is interesting to see women’s pre-conceptions revealed,” The Sun quoted Swell, as saying.
The list of ‘big names’:
Friday, February 01, 2008
One of the many groovy aspects of my new gig is that the campus is a wildlife preserve, so there are lots of nifty critters roaming around. Among the more common are the egrets. Most of them are about 4 feet tall, mostly legs and necks, but as I watch them wander around the lakes looking for nummies I can't help but think of dinosaurs. I don't know if I would have made this connection on my own, but watching the slow, methodical, undulating movements of these sinuous beasties one can definately imagine what it must have been like when their scaly ancestors roamed the Earth.
On a completely unrelated note I have a question. I was listening to a song the other day that is about a guy who cheated on his lady and is trying to explain it away with a chorus of 'I didn't feel a thing. It didn't mean a thing'. That got me thinking, if my wife ever cheated on me I think I would be more upset if it didn't mean a thing. I could more readily understand an affair of overwhelming passion than I could 'hi, you're cute, let's do it'. I have never, to my knowledge anyway, been cheated on, so this is strictly hypothetical, but I'm curious about what you think? Is the classic 'she didn't mean anything to me' line soothing, or exacerbating? Or is this a gross oversimplification?