People Who Drink Scotch Read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
And women who are constipated read Nicholas Sparks.
It will all become clear in a moment, I promise.
—
This will be a brief post, as I’m doing some writing elsewhere. I’m jumping between three separate projects, adding a little to each one before moving on to the next in a great big circle of creativity, while a warm cat sleeps on my right foot and I drink chocolate milk from a mug shaped like Santa Claus. So far, it’s a good morning.
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The people over at FilmDrunk have posted a video of Quentin Tarantino listing his top eight films of 2009 (so far). The comments section ranges from jokes about the overweight star of the film Precious to Quentin’s rumored drug usage.
Here’s the video, in case you don’t feel like clicking over:
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To explain both the title of this post and the comment below it, I present Readers by Author, which offers stereotypes of people based on whom they list as their favorite author. Brilliant, really. Very funny.
Since a few of my own favorite authors are listed there, I’ll post them here:
J.K. Rowling
Smart geeks.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
People who can start a fire.
William Shakespeare
People who like bondage.
Mark Twain
Liars.
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
People who drink scotch.
Edgar Allan Poe
Men who live in their mother’s basements. Or goth seventh graders.
Hunter S Thompson
That kid in your philosophy class with the stupid tattoo.
So from this, we are to assume that I am a smart, scotch drinking, fire starting, stupid tattoo having liar who likes bondage and may or may not live in his mother’s basement. Which is completely ridiculous.
I’ve never lived in my mother’s basement.
There are also a few other favorites on the list (Dawkins, Koontz, King, Bradbury, Chabon, Adams, Grimm, Lovecraft, etc.), but if I were to list all of them, I would be making a list of my own. Which is why anyone who asks of me the question “Who is your favorite author?” will regret doing so. Though they won’t regret doing so until five hours later, when I’ve finally finished listing all of my favorites and explaining why I cannot simply narrow it down to one name.
—
Right. To writing, then to breakfast (lunch?), then perhaps to a nap.
I’m enjoying today so far.
The One About The Blankets and Quentin Tarantino Speaking Japanese
Today was again the sort of day that makes one say “Let’s go to Wal-Mart and buy more blankets” before going to Wal-Mart to buy more blankets. We’re all nestled on the couch now, warm as mice near a toaster. Well, Danielle is currently nestled under a pile of blankets on the couch playing Dragon Age: Origins, I’m currently shivering in front of the computer.
We’re both quite comfortable, though. The many e-mails and phonecalls voicing concern about blizzards and frost and being buried under a thick slate of ice are very nice, but there needn’t be any more of them. We’re fine, really.
—
For those wondering:
Be careful with those chopsticks, kids.
—
These are quite old, having been around for at least a decade now, but I still love quoting them from time to time.
Found here, most recently, they’re Kurt Vonnegut’s 8 Rules for Writing Fiction.
And they are as follows:
1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.
2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.
4. Every sentence must do one of two things — reveal character or advance the action.
5. Start as close to the end as possible.
6. Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
7. Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.
8. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.
- Vonnegut, Kurt Vonnegut, Bagombo Snuff Box: Uncollected Short Fiction (New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons 1999), 9-10.
Very useful information there.
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If you are able to translate, from Japanese to English, the dialogue in the following advertisement featuring Quentin Tarantino, please do so in the comments section.
If you are unable to translate, please just watch and enjoy a wonderfully bizarre thing:
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Amanda Palmer decided to frighten (er, brighten) the day lights out of some people in New York by walking around and lip synching to “Hell” by Tegan and Sara.
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Right. Feet are nearly frozen, will retreat to warmth of blanket and snuggley type woman creature underneath it.
A New World, A White World
I awoke this morning to the world being covered in a sparkling white powder of ice and cold, the wind was biting and unforgiving. As I had predicted in my last entry, winter has officially arrived.
I walked around in it a bit today, ventured outside of my warm little bubble and into the harsh wind to purchase a loaf of bread and some egg nog. I had made the trek specifically for bread, so that we would have it with dinner. The egg nog is gone, yet the bread remains untouched. The pizza we had instead now sits uncomfortably in the bottom of my stomach and I find myself wishing we had eaten the bread.
—
Tomorrow will find us paying many bills and hopefully getting some Christmas shopping done.
I lead a painfully interesting life, don’t I?
—
The wonderful website Mental Floss, which is a site worth checking on a daily basis, recently posted this entry about an episode of the seres How It’s Made (one of my favorites, as well) in which they show how to make a vinyl record. It’s really quite interesting, especially to fans of vinyl.
Part One:
Part Two:
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In honor of Empire Magazine’s 20th anniversary, they’ve invited back a few big names to reappear in character from some of their favorite roles. There’s a very neat Silence of the Lambs one with Sir Anthony Hopkins and Jodie Foster, even one with Sam Neil trying to lure a T-Rex with a shiny road flare, but this was the one that caught my attention:
Fantastic image of Mel Gibson in the William Wallace facepaint. Very stirring.
The rest are here.
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Amanda Palmer will be holding another of her fabulous webcasts tomorrow (Friday) evening at 11pm EST.
According to her Twitter page:
there will be wine, stuff auctioned (we have x-mas cards!), an “absolute death” giveaway, wine, i’ll play ukulele & if forced, piano.
It will be held, as all of the previous casts have, here.
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Right. I’m off to shower, then read for a bit, then sleep the sleep of a man with much to do tomorrow.
Some Good, Some Bad, Very Cold
The temperature has begun to dip here in Minnesota. The temperature drops, the wind picks up, and the red and golden leaves of autumn have been replaced with bare branches against stark gray skies. It all serves as a reminder of life’s temporal nature. The ups and downs, the winding road we all travel together, the time upon this spinning blue marble is tragically short.
I received a voicemail recently that contained a message I had been expecting for some time. It was in my mother’s voice, choked with sadness and soaked with tears.
Baby, our family dog residing with my parents in California, passed away.
Years and years ago (I say this because I don’t know exactly how long we’d had Baby in our lives, as it felt like forever), my father brought home a small black pup covered with fleas who were bloated and slow with blood. He held her up to my mother, who replied with a simple “No.”
He made some comment about her big puppy eyes, she still replied “No.”
He told us of how he had saved her from a pair of children who had, each holding a pair of legs, been pulling her back and forth, fighting over who would take her home. She hesitated, but remained firm: “No.”
Finally, he offered the following deal: “We’ll take her to the vet to get checked out. We’ll get these fleas off of her and if she gets a clean bill of health, sans fleas, we’ll keep her. If, however, there’s some sort of medical issue that would end up costing us a lot of money, we’ll take her to the pound. Deal?”
My mother hemmed and she hawed and she looked into the eyes of the pathetic little beast still being held before her face and she said “Fine.”
After the vet looked Baby over, he declared she was relatively healthy, gave us something to clear the fleas away and sent us on our way, with our brand new puppy.
The name Baby came from the fact that, from that moment on, she was the baby of the family. She was the small and defenseless creature everyone fussed over, she was the one we shared photos of with family, she was the one we spoiled every Christmas. She was our baby and we loved her dearly.
I moved away roughly four or five years ago, but my regular calls back home would always include an inquiry of Baby’s condition and general well-being. For most of that time, my questions were met with “Oh, she’s still fat.” Or “She’s still hogging your mother’s chair.”
But more recent calls have revealed Baby being diagnosed with canine lupus, a condition that is very treatable, yet still rough to live with, especially at her age and weight (she was always a tubby little thing, likely due to our generously sharing our “people food” with her).
One morning, my father awoke to find that she was in far too much pain to ignore. It was a slow build up, a gradual process of deterioration due to the lupus matched with a gradual dosing of medication meant to fight the damned disease, but it finally became too much and she made it clear to my father.
Baby was always a very intelligent dog. She would accept and (mostly) follow directions given to her in plain English.
“We’re going to be gone for a few hours. If you’re good, we’ll bring you a goody.”
The floor would be spotless, nothing would be disturbed, Baby would be right where we left her.
“No peeing on the floor! Bad girl!”
The next day, she would pee on the carpet instead.
“So-and-so is coming to visit. Don’t bark at him/her or you won’t get a treat.”
So-and-so would be greeted, not only by a quiet dog, but a quiet dog who would share her toys with them.
She had a series of stuffed animals, we called them her “babies”, they ranged from a tiger to a sheep, and she knew each one by name.
“Go get your tiger baby!” would see her fetching her tiger. Say “Bring me your sheep baby! Where’s your sheep baby?!” and she would respond by dropping her sheep on your foot.
That morning, my mother fixed her a breakfast of hot dogs (one of her favorite foods, and a sort of farewell meal) and told her to let them know when she was “ready”.
After a while, she sat by the door and my parents drove her to the vet, who then got down on the floor with her while he gave her the injection that would relieve her of her pain.
When I heard the voicemail, I immediately called and spoke to my father, who explained the details of what had happened. It was a brief conversation, as I was overwhelmed. I cried a lot that night and I slept much of the next day away. I’m still not over it, though I’ve dealt with it as best I can. I’m able to remember her and laugh now, rather than cry, but it’s still very hard and I’m not sure when, if ever, I’ll not still feel a great sadness for not being there when she passed.
The whole thing has reminded me of another family dog of ours, who had the glaringly original name “Puppy” (later changed to “Big Dog”, for obvious reasons), and who was also put to sleep. It was long ago, when I was a very young child (I can’t even properly guess at an age, but it was one of the first times I’d been faced with death), and I’ve never truly gotten over it. Though I can now think back with love and laughter, rather than pain and sadness. I worry that this is due to my being present for Pup’s death, a sense of closure I’ll never feel in relation to Baby.
I’ll live on, as we all will. Some may read this and think “Jesus, it was only a dog”, but they’re wrong. As clichéd as it sounds, she was very much a part of my family and a part of me. No, she IS a part of me, and always will be.
I won’t lie, I cried while writing this. But even now, I open the photo of Baby hijacking my mother’s favorite chair, her rotund pink belly the most prominent thing in the picture, and I laugh.
—
Let’s talk about happier things, yeah?
I’ve a cold. I mean, that’s not a happy thing, but it’s a true statement. Coughing, sniffling, the whole bit. But it’s okay, as I’ve also got a wonderful family and wonderful friends/co-workers to take my mind off of things.
In case you were wondering:
*- My Thanksgiving consisted of a prepackaged pot roast cooked to near perfection by me, many many mashed potatoes (TOO MANY POTATOES), and playing a lot of Dragon Age: Origins on the accursed X-Box.
*- Speaking of Dragon Age: Origins, it is a wonderful game and has stolen many hours from me. But I don’t mind, as those hours were spent having fun.
*- I still don’t know what I want for Christmas, and by that, I mean I want far too many things and simply cannot seem to dwindle the list down.
*- I have decided that I need to either order the Sundance Channel or purchase the first season (and later, second season) of Spectacle: Elvis Costello With, which is an amazing television program in which Elvis Costello essentially sits down with a bunch of God-like musicians and chats them up for awhile. Did I mention the chats are often interrupted by jam sessions? Think about Elvis Costello singing with Bono and The Edge of U2. Think of him performing with Elton John. These, and many more, occur on this program. Thus, I must own it somehow.
*- I’m watching the Bono/Edge episode of Spectacle right now (thank god for “On Demand”), and it’s just fucking magical.
—
Danielle, as I’ve written here about, has a form of Fibromyalgia. My boss also suffers this horrible syndrome and has run the gamut regarding medications to battle it. She’s finally found something that works wonders, a drug called Savella, and she was kind enough to pass word of it on to us.
We rushed to the clinic, got a sample pack of it, and she began taking it immediately. It’s done it’s job and it’s made living with Fibromyalgia much easier for Danielle, and so we returned to our doctor and requested a prescription. There was a moment when the concern of it not being covered by insurance arose (it’s $106 a month when not covered), but we’ve just been informed that it is covered by a co-pay that will allow us to get it for around $70 a month. It’s still very steep, but it’s much better than $106 and it’s something that we can juggle our budget and finagle a few of our bills around until we can manage getting it. Because it’s definitely worth it.
–
A few videos:
This is Beck (and Feist!) covering a Skip Spence song. If you’ve never heard the original, you should try and track it down online because it’s beautiful.
Speaking of Feist, here’s a live version of “Secret Heart”:
I’ll be starting a new religion very soon, the basis of which being that Morrissey is, in fact, the physical manifestation of God. Worship below:
Here’s a clip from an episode of the aforementioned Spectacle. It features Elvis Costello (host), Norah Jones, Kris Kristofferson, John Mellencamp, and Roseanne Cash (daughter of Johnny Cash), singing Johnny Cash’s Big River:
And finally, here’s a fantastically interesting clip from an interview of Bob Dylan in which he talks about fame, fans, and draws a picture of the guy interviewing him:
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A list of places I currently call my internet home(s):
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/RobKaas
Twitter: http://twitter.com/RobKaas
Tumblr: http://robkaas.tumblr.com/
Blip: http://blip.fm/BigRobK
GoodReads: http://www.goodreads.com/robkaas
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I’m off to convalesce on the couch and wait for my reason for living to come home.
Stay well, kids.
This is not the real blog entry
This is just a public service announcement stating that a real entry is, in fact, coming. Soon. And it’ll get a bit deep in parts, and probably a bit silly in others.
For now, here’s this:
Here I am, I am blogging, blog blog blog, tra-la-la
Quickly, quickly, I’m still alive and have neglected this blog for far too long, and thus I will vow to blog more often. I will then blog pretty regularly for roughly a week and then I will stop and it will be months until I blog again, and I will make yet another blog entry saying more things like this and the cycle will start anew.
—
This is pretty much an exact visual representation of how I am currently feeling today:
More to follow, I promise.
Dear Mister Poe
This made me laugh so hard and for such an extended period of time, that I just had to blog it. That’s the sort of sad individual I am.
Click on the image to take you to the artist’s post and a much larger version of the image.
There’s literally nothing about this I don’t love. I want this tattooed backwards on my forehead so I can see this every time I look in the mirror for the rest of my life.
The last two panels are the greatest panels ever. EVER. I want a hot air balloon attached to a boat that says “BROS” that I can fly around in with my BFF.
Doomed To Forever Shop At Wal-Mart. Also, The Whole Blood Thing.
These are the kinds of conversations Danielle and I have.
We were debating yesterday which supernatural creature we’d prefer to be turned into. Mind you, these are creatures that a human can be turned into, not creatures that are born that way.
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Zombie: Zombies are right the fuck out, because there’s no intelligence involved. You’re just a walking corpse, searching for human flesh. You wouldn’t even be cognizant of yourself or the world around you, so that’s one you would definitely avoid at all costs.
No pros, only cons.
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Mummy: Same basic principal as a zombie, right? I mean, you’re still a walking corpse, only you’re thousands of years old and instead of seeking out human flesh, you’re seeking revenge against those who have desecrated your tomb. Granted, you have strength and can’t be killed (already dead), but you’re just a machine really.
Pros: Far better preserved than a zombie.
Cons: Essentially an older zombie wrapped in bounty paper towels.
—
Vampire: Now it gets interesting. Vampires live forever, they never get sick, they have awesome powers. They’re like undead superheroes. It’s awesome. But being a vamp has its downsides, as well. Immortality is a dual-edged sword, I’m sure.
Pros: Let’s go down the list here.
Immortality. You live FOREVER. That means you get to sit back and watch the world grow and change around you. You get to experience things most people would kill (or die) to experience. With that much time would come a whole lot of wisdom. You can amass a huge fortune over time, too. Imagine how much your comic books will be worth a thousand years from now (so long as they’re graded, of course), for example.
Plus, you’d never get sick again. Ever. No more aging, no more colds, or flus, or food poisoning. Fit as a fiddle for eternity.
Powers. You have them. Flight, mind control (or a form of it, anyway), enhanced strength, enhanced speed, heightened senses, shapeshifting (not in all mythologies, but still. Wolf/Bat/Mist/etc.), the list goes on. You’re like a bloodsucking Superman.
Another pro would be that once you get turned into vampire, that’s pretty much it. The most painful bit is over and you just are what you are. A werewolf doesn’t have that luxury and changing into one is a very painful monthly event.
Cons:
Immortality. Yeah, it’s a pro and a con. Sure, you get to live forever and see the world grow and change around you, but guess what? The people you love grow and change (read: die) too. And unless you want to curse them to be just like you, there’s no stopping that.
Blood. You kinda need to kill people/things to survive. I may have found away around this one, sort of. Let’s say the blood of a horse or a cow will sustain a vampire just as well as the blood of human. Easy, you become a vampire farmer! Siphon off blood from your animal pals and do all your chores at night. There are flaws to this plan, granted, but if it means you don’t have to go around killing people just to live, I’d say it draws about even.
No sunlight. That means a lot of stores and shops you frequent now would be closed by the time you even crawled out of your coffin after you get vamped. “Thank god for Wal-Mart”, Danielle said at this revelation. 24-hour stores are the vampire’s best friend. Though that’s just one setback to the no-sun-or-go-boom rule. At some point, people are going to notice that they never see you during the day. Suspicions will be raised and before you know it, boom! Anthony Hopkins comes knocking at your coffin door with a wooden stake and a bad German accent.
—
Werewolf: Big. Hairy. Hungry. A perfect representation for rebellion against holding back. We all have an animal inside of us, but we’ve all learned to keep the beast on a leash. We don’t tell people what we really think of them, we don’t get out of our car and punch the guy in front of us for talking on his cell phone, and we don’t ravage every member of the opposite sex we find sexually alluring. Being a werewolf pretty much changes all of that.
Pros:
Immortality. Just like our bloodsucking friend above, werewolves can’t age or get sick. And it’s every bit as cool for the same reasons. Though some myths would have us believe that they’re a lot easier to kill than vampires. Shove something through the heart or brain and boom, dead.
Powers. Not quite as many as a vampire, but still pretty impressive. Heightened senses, strength and speed, plus a shiny coat of fur and great teeth.
Anonymity: The great thing about being a werewolf is that twenty-eight/twenty-nine days out of the month, you’re just a normal joe. No one looks at a werewolf in human form and says “HOLY SHIT THAT GUY’S A MONSTER”. This is a setback for the vampire.
Food. A werewolf doesn’t need blood to sustain him. Granted, one often finds themselves craving raw meat, but you could live as a vegetarian for ninety-nine percent of the month, if you had the self control.
Cons:
Immortality. Same bit as the vampire thing. Not aging while those around you do must be not all that fun.
Transformation. They hurt, man. Bones crack, skin stretches, and you scream. A lot.
Oh yeah, there’s also that whole TURNING INTO A RAVENOUS BEAST EVERY FULL MOON THING. Now, you could tie yourself up/lock yourself in a cellar/put yourself in a coma once a month to get around attacking and killing anyone, but honestly now, in what werewolf movie have we seen this scenario actually work?
Being Turned. Being turned into a werewolf is a nasty bit of business. First of all, in order to become a werewolf (outside of gypsy curses), you have to be attacked by a werewolf and live. When a werewolf bites or scratches you, there’s a good chance it’s not going to be a warning. It’s probably going to be step one in it’s two step plan entitled “Eating A Human In Two Easy Steps” (step one is biting or scratching you, step two is the eating part). Denying a werewolf his meal is no easy feat.
At least when you get turned into a vampire, it’s kind of a sexual thing.
—
So in the end, Danielle decided she’d much rather be a vampire than anything else. I started the debate by preferring the path of the werewolf, but by the end of the whole thing, I just wasn’t sure. She made being a vampire sound pretty god damn cool.
I guess the vampire being harder to kill is the biggest deciding factor. I mean, the thing that sways me toward the werewolf is the whole “not turning into a ravenous bloodthirsty animal when the moon isn’t full” thing.
Yes, we talk about these things. Yes, we’re dorks.
SIDE QUESTION:
Let’s say you get bit by a werewolf. We’ll call him Werewolf A. So Werewolf A bites you, turning you into Werewolf B. You inevitably bite someone else, thus creating Werewolf C.
Now, knowing full and well that the only way to lift the curse is to kill the werewolf what bit you, you track down Werewolf A and give him the ol’ silver shiv to the heart. Thus, your curse is lifted.
What about Werewolf C? You’re not a werewolf anymore, sure, but you certainly were when you bit him/her, so does Werewolf C retain his/her curse until he/she kills you?
And let’s say Werewolf C tracks you down, attacks you, but you manage to get away before they kill you. Are you then Werewolf D? And if so, and you kill Werewolf C, will your newfound curse be lifted or have you just found yourself in a never ending cycle (ha) of lycanthropy?
These are the things I ask myself when I’m alone, you guys. This is what goes through my head.
Misney? Darvel? Spider-Mouse? Mickey-Man?
So, Disney is buying Marvel Entertainment for $4 Billion.
Building on its strategy of delivering quality branded content to people around the world, The Walt Disney Company has agreed to acquire Marvel Entertainment, Inc. in a stock and cash transaction, the companies announced today.
Under the terms of the agreement and based on the closing price of Disney on August 28, 2009, Marvel shareholders would receive a total of $30 per share in cash plus approximately 0.745 Disney shares for each Marvel share they own. At closing, the amount of cash and stock will be adjusted if necessary so that the total value of the Disney stock issued as merger consideration based on its trading value at that time is not less than 40% of the total merger consideration.
Based on the closing price of Disney stock on Friday, August 28, the transaction value is $50 per Marvel share or approximately $4 billion.
“This transaction combines Marvel’s strong global brand and world-renowned library of characters including Iron Man, Spider-Man, X-Men, Captain America, Fantastic Four and Thor with Disney’s creative skills, unparalleled global portfolio of entertainment properties, and a business structure that maximizes the value of creative properties across multiple platforms and territories,” said Robert A. Iger, President and Chief Executive Officer of The Walt Disney Company. “Ike Perlmutter and his team have done an impressive job of nurturing these properties and have created significant value. We are pleased to bring this talent and these great assets to Disney.”
“We believe that adding Marvel to Disney’s unique portfolio of brands provides significant opportunities for long-term growth and value creation,” Iger said.
“Disney is the perfect home for Marvel’s fantastic library of characters given its proven ability to expand content creation and licensing businesses,” said Ike Perlmutter, Marvel’s Chief Executive Officer. “This is an unparalleled opportunity for Marvel to build upon its vibrant brand and character properties by accessing Disney’s tremendous global organization and infrastructure around the world.”
Under the deal, Disney will acquire ownership of Marvel including its more than 5,000 Marvel characters. Mr. Perlmutter will oversee the Marvel properties, and will work directly with Disney’s global lines of business to build and further integrate Marvel’s properties.
The Boards of Directors of Disney and Marvel have each approved the transaction, which is subject to clearance under the Hart-Scott-Rodino Antitrust Improvements Act, certain non-United States merger control regulations, effectiveness of a registration statement with respect to Disney shares issued in the transaction and other customary closing conditions. The agreement will require the approval of Marvel shareholders. Marvel was advised on the transaction by BofA Merrill Lynch.
The wave of intensely worried comic book fans hit the internet with their ramblings of fear and confusion this morning in response.
I have to admit that I, too, am a bit worried. Not about the comic book side of things, as Disney would have to be idiots to buy one of the most successful comic book companies in the world and then try to tell them how to make comic books. I’m far more concerned about the film ventures from here on out.
Granted, the prospect of a Pixar/Marvel cross over is staggeringly awesome. But I can’t help but look at DC/Time Warner and their track record of films being tied up for years in legal/studio mumbo jumbo, only to be shelved and forgotten.
Marvel has had a rocky history with films based on their properties up until recently. The X-Men franchise did well, the Spider-Man films are considered blockbusters. But overall, many fans felt the films left much to be desired. Iron Man was the first Marvel film in a very long time that pleased seemingly everyone. Incredible Hulk followed and, while I feel it was greatly under appreciated, it still served as a piece to a much larger puzzle (read: The Avengers).
Luckily, if we’re to believe the news we’re hearing about the Disney/Marvel merger (or “crossover”, if you will), it seems that all the film properties currently in development will remain on their current tracks. This means that Kenneth Branagh can continue to direct Thor unfettered, whoever ends up helming the subsequent Captain America and Avengers films (respectively) will be free to do so with minimal studio interference. Likewise, Spider-Man and X-Men properties will remain under the control of Sony (Spidey) and Fox (All Things X).
But what of future productions? What of anything that may come around after these films are finished? I’d really hate to see Marvel’s films suffer the same fate as DC, which is to say having their characters lost in pre-production limbo.
Overall, this is a wonderful enterprise for both companies involved. Disney is bound to make a shitload of money and Marvel now has connections to one of the single most powerful business entities in the world. I just hope Disney is smart enough (and certainly they are, right?) to play a silent big brother role in all of this.
—
Now for something completely different.
This movie trailer has it all: George Clooney telling Ewan McGregor that he’s a Jedi Warrior, Jeff Bridges playing some sort of military hippy, and goats.
I’m contemplating picking up the book, as the synopsis (and this trailer) makes it sound hilarious. Anyone read it?
—
Apparently this has been making the rounds for years now, but it’s only now reaching me. Like some sort of signal travelling through space.
I fucking love this:
You’re absolutely fine, your lips are taste of wine, I like to think you’re mine.
God bless the Swedish.
