OH HI MARK

This post contains naughty words.

A few weeks ago, I decided to register yourstupidminds.com for my blog. When I tried to buy it through Google, it wouldn't let me. I assumed that another domain registry owned it, so I went through GoDaddy and it worked fine.

Cut to yesterday when I want to set up a Gmail account for Your Stupid Minds with Google Apps. I give it a shot, since I find Google Apps to be a fantastic, convenient, and extremely helpful tool. This is what comes up:



I do a little research and discover that Google has a filter for its domain registration. Certain words are not allowed in the URL, and "stupid" is one of those words.

Google must have a really restrictive filter if "stupid" is considered a naughty word. I thought it might object to the word "stup," which is Yiddish for "fuck." Nope. Stup.com works just fine.

It turns out the censorship isn't really tight, but extremely arbitrary. I test out a few words to see what flies. As far as I can tell, these are the only restricted words:

• Fuck
• Shit
• Bitch
• Google
• Microsoft
• Stupid

Words that Google allows in its URLs:

• Dumb
• Moron
• Idiot
• Ass
• Asshole
• Damn
• Hell
• Crap
• Stup
• Kill
• Murder
• Suicide
• Assassination
• Bomb
• Rape
• Retard
• Retarded
• Pedophilia
• Semen
• Jizz
• Spunk
• Faggot
• Queer
• Nigger
• Cunt

I could register howtomakeabomb.com, micro-soft.com, or murderandrapeallthecuntniggers.com, and these would all be acceptable. I tried yourcuntyminds.com and Google wanted to sell me the domain. However, if I registered retardsarestupidfaggots.com, the only word they would object to is "stupid."

How did this happen? It's like an April Fool's joke that never got changed back. Not only that, but there is absolutely no appeals process. Any attempt to talk to a human being is met with a redirect to their help forum. Google's bottom line isn't exactly in dire straights, but I'm sure its shareholders would prefer the company accept money for no reason than not accept money for no reason.

I e-mailed an acquaintance who works at Google to see what can be done. Only time will tell.

UPDATE 5/5

It appears my contact made progress and I am now the proud owner of a Google Apps account for yourstupidminds.com. Now I just have to get the MX settings to work...

My personal LJ just wasn't cutting it and decided to start another blog.

Your Stupid Minds

It is dedicated to news and reviews about bad movies.  I went all out with my first post for Omega Cop, with detailed review, quotes, pictures, and I uploaded YouTube videos, one devoted solely to the crotch shots in the movie.

Check it out if you wish.  I plan to keep it way more updated than this.

Twin Peaks

Medium: Television

Indie Cred: 90s, David Lynch, surrealism, ahead of its time, the Pacific Northwest, canceled too early

Real-Life Example(s): Great Northern, Mike Zink's Silent Drape Runners

Potential Band Names:

Damn Fine Coffee

Windham Earle

Looks Like My Cousin

Without Chemicals He Points

Bookhouse Boys

Black Lodge (may also be used for your metal band)

Kcor Stel

Invitation to Love

That Gum You Like

Beware of Bob

One Eyed Jacks

Smiling Bag

The Owls Are Not What They Seem

How's Annie


Potential Band Names Which Make No Attempt At Subtlety:

Fire Walk With Me

Agent Cooper

Backwards-Talking Dwarf

Who Killed Laura Palmer?

The Simpsons

Medium: Television

Indie Cred: 90s, Harvard writers, quotability, having an opinion about when the show started to go downhill (season 9)

Real-Life Example(s): Fall Out Boy, Neon Claws

Potential Band Names:

Cromulent

Eat Up Martha

Lousy Smarch Weather

Santos L. Halper

Calling All Quakers

Sacrilicious

Born to Runner-Up

Glaven

Bonerland

Worker & Parasite

Frostillicus

The All Ighty Ollar

Boo-Urns

The Chazzwozzers

A Part of Us All

Here Comes the Metric System

Pukeahontas

Killbot Factory

Bonus Eruptus

I Leaf Through Your Magazines

Esquilax

Vitamin R

Five Bees For a Quarter

Lousy Houseplant

Superliminal

HoJu

Thrillhouse (alternate: Thrillho)

Globex

Graffito-Tag

The 9th Bearded Infantry

I Sleep in a Drawer

Up and Atom

Electric Gigolo

Go Banana!

The Contrabulous Fabtraption of Professor Horatio Hufnagel


Potential Band Names Which Make No Attempt At Subtlety:

Handsome Homer J Plus 3

The Be Sharps

Mr. Plow

Montgomery Burns and the Springfield Nuclear Powerplants

No Homers

Stonecutters

The Simpsons

Pretty Much Everything on This List


Bonus: Simpsons-inspired lyrics

While going through SXSW's lineup for this year, I noticed that a lot of bands name themselves after references to things I like.  Rolo Tomasi, Does It Offend You, Yeah? The Airborne Toxic Event.  Drink Up Buttercup.  I'm not sure if this says more about me or the band, but clearly there are certain media consumables that are socially acceptable for indie bands to esoterically reference in their name.  The obscurer, the better.

But why stop there?  There is a clear connection between the acceptance of an indie band and the in-joke-ability (and zaniness) of its name.  In order to be effective, the name needs to walk a fine line between exclusivity and accessibility.  Here's a template, featuring a pre-approved source, to help aspiring acts.



The Big Lebowski

Medium: Film

Indie Cred: 90s, Coen Brothers, dream sequences, Gipsy Kings, the word "fuck," Steve Buschemi

Real-Life Example(s): Everthus the Deadbeats

Potential Band Names:

I Got a Rash

Jackie Treehorn

Shomer Fucking Shabbos

Karl Hungus

Mark It Zero

Knox Harrington and the Knutsens

Nice Marmot

The Seattle Seven

Larry's Homework

Logjammin'

Over the Line


Potential Band Names Which Make No Attempt At Subtlety:

Shut the Fuck Up Donny

The Dude Abides

Fuck a Stranger in the Ass

Little Lebowski Urban Achievers

On Saturday I caught what might possibly be the last public showing of The Spirit.  For me and themachinehead , the abysmal reviews and Frank Miller's apparent cirrhosis of the brain were reason enough for the price of admission.



Despite the typical criticisms--laughably bad dialogue, confusing visuals, befuddling plot--it was not as terrible as the critics' kneejerk assessment.  Oh sure, all these things are true, the dialogue is laughably bad, plot needlessly confusing, and visuals mutually exclusive to time, place, and story, but all of these are mere puzzle pieces in Frank Miller's elaborate masterplan to destroy the fledgling legitimacy of comic books, or "graphic novels," as your friend who just read Watchmen likes to clarify.

Miller once had a major role in shifting the perception of comics.  What was once a colorful pantomime of morality plays written for children, evolved into a dreary pantomime of ambiguous morality plays written for man-children.  This was, at first, a mere act of survival: a desperate response to the dwindling comic book sales of the 1980s. But this had a more lasting effect.  Once comics gave the appearance of niche appeal, of a seemingly cerebral importance, they transcended the dime store universality of their predecessors.  Mainstream comics returned to the dark allure they once had before the Comics Code Authority or Seduction of the Innocent.

This re-envisioning initially had good writing on its side, but once a reaction becomes the paradigm, this repeated mutation resulted in a decline in quality.  Much like the moral ambiguities of Miller and Moore, there was a blurring distinction between good comics and bad.  For every good one there spawned 100 bizarro counterparts.

Even Miller fell victim to this decline, following up his critically acclaimed The Dark Knight Returns with the abysmally mediocre The Dark Knight Strikes Again.  However, while some regard DK2 as a cash-grab rush job, I see as the first in a long line of Miller works designed to destroy the comic industry from within.  Miller wanted to show that his powers could be used for evil as well as good.  While Returns was seen as an unmitigated success, it was only groundbreaking when compared to that which came before it.  In context to the Batmans of the past, it was a visionary new take on the franchise.  Out of context, however, it's just an angry old man who is borderline psychotic.

Soon the Miller template became the mainstream, with frighteningly popular results.  Just take a chiaroscuro sheen, add a smattering of stylized voice overs, a bit graphic violence, a pinch of chauvinism, and voila! You're now a legitimate comic book creator!  Miller wanted to show everyone that this template alone does not make a good comic, and did so by utilizing the worst of his own clichés.

He launched his thesis with DK2.  When readers didn't entirely catch on, he took the next step years later with All Star Batman & Robin, a comic so bad it can only be seen as either a concerted effort to destroy the Batman franchise, or the ravings of a megalomaniacal lunatic (I, of course, believe the former).

His tour de shit didn't emerge until The Spirit, which combines what is both awful about modern comics and comic book movies, hitting two birds with one city-provided snowball.  By using industry sacred cow Will Eisner as his muse, he shows how on the whole, a vast majority of comics were never meant to be taken seriously.  They were escapist fantasy for a prepubescent audience, and while some transcend this pulp upbringing, the mere existence of shadows and profanity does not make a comic good in its own right.  Even Nolan's The Dark Knight suffers from the same problems as The Spirit (befuddling plot, schlocky lines, overwhelming superfluity) but commits entirely to the idea that Batman is Serious Business. And much like Miller's earlier attempts to delegitimize this shift, once again the critics fail to acknowledge that The Spirit sucks for a purpose.

Part of this is Miller's fault.  It's easy for a film critic to interpret The Spirit's disproportionate balance of silliness and sincerity as poor writing and directing.  The film's look is dark and stylized, while the dialogue is overwhelmingly infantile.  Out of context this is just bad, but in context it shows how many comic book tropes simply do not translate onto the screen.  One could read lines like "shut up and bleed," "I'm going to kill you all kinds of dead," or "I don't like egg on my face.  Not a glob" in a Miller comic and not bat an eyelash.  But when placed in the mouths of Eva Mendes, Gabriel Macht, Sam Jackson, or any other human being with human inflection and delivery, they simply do not translate.

Neither does the complete lack of continuity or a cohesive plot.  The film jarringly shifts between stories.  At one point we're in an office, watching a meaningful exchange between a female doctor, her police chief father, and an iridescent blue Aquafina bottle.  In the next, the Spirit is tied up in the Octopus's lair, appearing in full Nazi regalia (but no swastika pasties, unfortunately).  It's as if Miller got to every eighteenth page, threw the loose-leaf onto the ground and immediately started a new issue.  In an ongoing comic series, a drawn-out Sand Serif flashback might appear pertinent. But in a 108-minute movie, any reasoned audience knows it is simply boring, needless exposition designed to ascribe meaning to characters that have none.

There are numerous other elements that show the unstable transition from comic to film.  The Spirit's voice over serves no purpose but to describe the nuanced city around him.  Since film is a multi-faceted visual medium, a capable director would have shown the audience why this dreary New York stand-in is so fantastic.  Instead Miller hints at a nondescript green screen landscape of 1940s-era cars and big black buildings with little white squares for windows.  The Spirit flies through on wires as his legs flail around, occasionally connecting with the power lines below, while those citizens he swore to protect point and laugh at him for looking stupid.  His voice over shifts from narration to an out-loud recitation of these lines to no one in particular.  When he realizes he's alone, he addresses the audience directly.  Again, this bizarre shift in voice often goes unnoticed in comics.

While The Spirit never seems to fully attain suspension of disbelief, if it had it would be a perfectly reasonable work of camp.  A cheesy 1940s superhero story complete with an over-the-top villain, mythological artifacts, hard-nosed police chief, plucky rookie, femme fatales and a happy ending.  When given the Frank Miller grittiness filter, however, it removes itself from the ridiculous story and into a context of his own perceived seriousness.  In the film, the Spirit is the soul of Central City, but he appears more as an aberration representing the Golden Age of comics, transposed into this dreary CGI nightmare Miller helped to create.

The Spirit is neither bad nor entirely enjoyable.  It's a Sin City feel with Superman dialogue, meant to prove a point rather than be good.  Miller hasn't been decent for decades, but he's coherent enough to know that he isn't very good. So rather than grasp at some phantom spirit of quality from his yesteryears, his modern work is a self-aware parody of his own suckiness.  An old man crying for help.  He wants everyone to know that he was once good for being good, not simply for being Frank Miller.  Until he chokes to death on his own vomit, or singlehandedly brings down the entire comic book industry--on page and in film--he will continue undeterred.

I saw Lee Siegel's article "Why Does Hollywood Hate the Suburbs?" in Saturday's Wall Street Journal, and I have to say it's the sorriest excuse for film criticism I've seen in a long while. The headline is a leading question meant to draw you into his conservative talking point echo chamber.  It's propaganda masquarading as a legitimate analysis, perpetuating needless political labels and beating the dessicated, rotting LIBERAL MEDIA dead horse until its knuckles bleed.

Worst of all, it's not even well done.  Bill Buckley would spit on Siegel's tie if he were still living.  Here are some highlights.  Please keep in mind this is in the WSJ's "film" section.

What's that?  You want a source?  I got your source right here.

Someone I knew in high school posted links on his Facebook page to incredibly vague and cryptic websites. I initially thought it was a viral marketing campaign or alternate reality game. Let's look into it.



Golivethedream.com

We have Blake Kuhn, a nice clean-cut white guy talking about "passionate and aggressive young leaders" who "invest in their future," and though a "campaign against mediocrity" and engaging in "positive controversy in today's society" you too can "chase your dream."

Is that enough buzzwords for you? I know he missed "paradigm shift" and "expand your horizons," but it's a short video. You'd think with all these lofty aspirations he would have invested in a decent microphone, but I guess I'm not "looking at the big picture." Note that he never says what they actually do or sell. The Facebook group offers slightly more insight:

So they sell... clothes? Funny they didn't mention that on the site. I also detect an indistinct religious vibe, like they're selling financial prosperity, jeans, and eternal salvation. You could easily replace the word "potential" with "Jesus" and it would say about the same thing.

This other site is even vaguer and buzzwordy:

Outthinkthebox.com

This one doesn't even have a Facebook group or contact e-mail. It's just a few videos (which remind me something released by the D.H.A.R.M.A. Initiative) railing against "some people" who say "the best things in life are free" and "dreams are fragile."



There are also some nondescript claims about moving forward, not backwards, upwards, not foreword and always twirling, twirling, twirling towards freedom.

The best part about this is the final post by "living.powerfully". Here are some excerpts:

Why would you be suspicious of a strange couple approaching you about a vague and undetermined investment opportunity?

A few people who link to outthinkthebox.com provide this URL as well:

Jasonangiesmith.ltdteam.com

If you give a fake name you can peruse the site (I went under the pseudonym "Henry Paulson").

Buzzwords! Clean-cut white people! Maps! Arrows! Intangibles! I hit the pyramid scheme mother lode! Check out these eye-opening visuals!







Okay, I made that last one up. But some cursory research indicates that it's quite evidently a scam.



This site suggests LTD is associated with Amway, which makes a lot of sense. Another claim is that it's Christian, which would explain the painfully articulate clean-cute young white people.

The bottom line: if you are approached by anyone associated with these sites, a) don't give them any money, b) if they offer you some Kool-Aid, don't drink it, and c) note the irony of joining a pyramid scheme to gain financial independence.

Bonus video.

What do you think of when you see the word "Geico?"  Cavemen?  Geckos?  D-list celebrities?  Stock car racing?  Reality show parodies?   Catchphrases your co-workers think are really funny?  If you answered "insurance," then you need to watch more television.  If, however, you answered "HUGHGRRGGGG," then congratulations!  You've successfully consumed Geico's numerous, simultaneous and mutually exclusive advertising campaigns!

The problem with Geico's game plan is there simply aren't enough commercials.   If I sit down and think really hard, I can actually remember what they sell.  This is bad.

To assist them, I've proposed a few dozen ad campaigns that will allow them to retain their 7% market share.  Here are the highlights.

Richard Grieco: Geico Salesman/Actor/Paramedic



You see, Grieco sounds very similar to Geico.  He'll go around selling car insurance door-to-door.  The normal people will become so emotional that a regular on the hit series "21 Jump Street" is on their front porch that they will pass out and Grieco will have to revive them, using first aid training he learned before the shoot.


You Don't Need Insurance for That!



This campaign will focus primarily on various regular people calling Geico and trying to insure unusual items.  They'll range from the almost reasonable (bumper cars, wheelchairs, Radio Flyers) to the absurd (Christmas trees, lunch boxes, clumps of dirt, clouds).  These ads will showcase the Geico employee's ability to know what the company sells.


The Masked Cavalier



These ads will chronicle the adventures of 16th Century gallant hero The Masked Cavalier, a swashbuckling fancypants former Lord of Berkenshire who trots across northern Europe solving ancient DaVinci Code-esque mysteries and seeking numerous romantic interludes with widowing Duchesses and fair-featured maidens disguising themselves as men to star in Shakespeare plays.  He has a trusty reptilian sidekick.  The Geico gecko, you say?  No!  He's a turtle name Pierre-Henri, and he's never met the gecko.  In fact, this campaign exists in an alternate timeline where Elisabeth I never becomes queen, and England is instead ruled by Albert, Duke of Prussia, who seized power by invading Brittania with an ostrichback cavalry charge.


How Unexpected!



This series will feature people purchasing Geico insurance and being all like "yeah well it's not like anything bad will happen, right?"  At this point, one of the following will occur:

• A T-Rex will emerge from their pool and eat their tires
• CHUDs will pop up out of the sewers and dismantle their windshield wipers
• That baseball gang from The Warriors will walk up and begin beating the hood with bats
• Chimpanzees will appear and do silly things
• Bruce Vilanche will deliver a devastating insult regarding the car's outdated leather seats.  The car will drive away by itself in shame.
• Someone will open the Ark of the Covenant and the vehicle's paint will melt off
• The car will blow up for no reason

What Do We Sell Again?



Due to the overwhelming popularity of the spot featuring Mrs. Butterworth, Geico will create a whole new campaign with Butterworth as the star.  The ads will vary in subject matter, from pancakes to the viscous fluid you put on pancakes.  Also get ready for a cameo from her old friend Aunt Jemima, who will undoubtedly have her own spin-off Geico ads very soon!

Note: This campaign will never mention Geico or its services.

Scholars have posed this question for centuries.  There is hardly a consensus, but most believe it is a variant on the term "Rock and Roller" used to describe those who write, sing, and play rock and roll music, a popular genre emulated from the Negro Spirituals of the late 19th Century.  Many also associate this lifestyle with narcotic use, promiscuous sex, leopard skin pants, unkempt hair and ear damage.



Guy Ritchie asks the question is his new aptly titled film RocknRolla.  However, he defies common thought on the subject, offering his own fresh definition:

So you see, a RocknRolla is not about drugs, sex, and music.  It's about all of those things.  All at once.  At the same time.

During this opening scene, the camera closes in on Johnny Quid, an obnoxious junkie rock star who won't be properly introduced until about halfway through the movie.  The voice over narration that accompanies this shot is not spoken by Johnny, but another minor character who  acheives a modicum of importance in the last 5 minutes.  Not that you'd ever know; all the characters retain the same comically exaggerated guttural garble of pseudo cockney non-words that make Ali G sound like Tennyson.  It's hard to tell one pasty face from the other.

Of the ones I do recognize is Gerard Butler, in a role obviously written for Jason Statham, since he is never bare-chested and rarely yells.  There is also Tom Wilkinson, who does a spot-on imitation of Bob Hoskins.  Ritchie also manages to recruit Jeremy Piven and Chris "Ludacris" Bridges, two of the most bombastic performers in modern popular culture, and completely blands them up by forgetting to give them memorable lines or personalities.

When watching the trailer, you may think RocknRolla is about gang, guns, geezers and all that dumb shit.  And you would be right.  If you saw Lock, Stock and Snatch, you'll feel right at home.  Ritchie continues his hallowed tradition of ripping off Tarantino plot devices and making the characters talk funny.  It's also shot and edited to the EXTREME with quick cuts and graphics from urban shoe commercials.  All the pops and flashes are designed to induce its audience into an epileptic seizure before realizing it's about to go through 45 minutes of exposition regarding commercial real estate in London. Sadly my pupils didn't sufficiently dilate, so I was left with the first act.

By the initial 3 minutes I was completely confused, not because I find stadium construction uninteresting, but Ritchie gives me no reason to care.  For every marginally intriguing character--such as Butler and Wilkinson--there are 30 that serve little to no purpose.  Each main character has about 8-10 hangers on which do nothing but provide some variation in the way they drop their consonants.  By the time the movie brings in Johnny Quid, I am so inundated with characters I can't tell if he will be important or not, so I attempt to ignore everything he says and does.

This ends up being a wise choice, for Quid is an insufferable shit, yet established as a sympathetic character.  I suppose this is because Wilkinson smacked him around when he was little, but I found myself cheering on the child abuse.

The only marginally sympathetic character is Butler's, who is just so anomalously charming and moronic that it's hard to hate him.  All the scenes I remember enjoying feature him.  The awkward vehicle theft, the extended chase scene, his bizarre dancing with Thandie Newton.  These were all quite funny.  But sadly, a clever scene does not a good movie make.  Ritchie sells the narrative as an intricate web of interconnecting plot lines, so the fact that these sparsely enjoyable scenes seem so incongruous with the rest of the film reveals how much it truly fails at storytelling.

Most of the events center on a Russian businessman's "lucky painting," which the audience never sees, but who cares?  It's the film's most visceral focus, but only because everything else is so discombobulated.  Isn’t this movie called RocknRolla?  Why is the MacGuffin a goddammed painting?

Ritchie also seems to forget the movie's title, because at the very end he informs the audience that it'll get to see the "real" RocknRolla in the sequel.  Blimey, Guy!  Put me in the bleedin' queue for that!  Cheerio bob's yer uncle guns 'n geezers God save the Queen and shine yer shoes gubbnah!

"The puzzles in this movie and the infinite number of sequels which have already been queued behind it have been designed to tear the dead presidents from your wallet like a sobriety chip from the shaky palm of Lindsay Lohan."

"Now I can officially say that the SAW franchise has run out of gas. Everything and everyone is just going through the motions here."

"...getting dangerously close to turning the mangled bloody body business into tedious and tripe titillation...the Jigsaw chaotic chronicles have run its corrosive course"

Each of these is an excerpt from a review of one of the last three Saw films.  Can you guess which quote goes to which movie?

I was recently talking to themachinehead (known in some circles as "Chris") about cartoon movies. At first we discussed film critics' irrational anger toward a children's film when it acts childishly, and then shifted to aesthetic variation in 3D animation. I argued that animation of any kind should always push the stylistic envelope, and never attempt to imitate real life (SpongeBob supports my position). I cited Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within as an example of groundbreaking computer animation backfiring on the filmmaker's intention (Zemeckis's Beowulf and The Polar Express also apply). While the characters look stunningly realistic, tiny details (such as mouth and body movement) confound the effect, becoming distressful instead of pleasing.

Chris then referred to uncanny valley, and the episode of 30 Rock that cites it. It's a theory I was vaguely familiar with, but never gave it much thought. I suppose when a comedy show explains a concept using Star Wars and pornography, it piques my interest.

It made me want to expand my old study on sexual practices in online games. Uncanny valley isn't a big problem in today's MMOs (primarily because the graphical capabilities aren't advanced enough to creep us the hell out), but what happens when technology catches up? Will users be able to engage in scarily realistic sexual simulation activities through the Internet?  Will uncanny valley make its mark on these practices? Additionally, if and when will the word "simulation" be removed from that phrase? Will the line between online and real-life sex blur into nonexistence?

I then thought about how I brought uncanny valley into the conversation without its name readily at hand. Had I come up with this thought all by myself, or was I subconsciously influenced by my previous familiarity? Before Chris mentioned its name, I assumed my personal experience watching these films influenced my perception of them.

While uncanny valley is not communication theory per se, it does have a connection when applied to media (gaming, film, television, etc.). When discussing corporeal interaction with a humanoid robot, communication theory does not apply. But when transferred to a graphical environment--becoming a semiotic representation instead of a physical one--it garners numerous applications. Other fields consider it more of a pseudoscience, which makes it perfect for communication study.

This made me think of communication theory as a whole, and how a vast majority of it is an exercise in the obvious. If you have any hypothesis as to how media work, you suddenly have your own theory. While they are, of course, based on research and observation, common knowledge could result in the same conclusion. Men like to look at women. Gaze. People use media for their own needs. Uses and Gratification. While these theories are more nuanced, their core belief is glaringly simplistic.

Which is why I've come up with my own.

Duh Theory: The belief that a vast majority of communication study involves assigning labels to obvious and quotidian concepts.

While I have absolutely no research to back up my theory, I am confident it will emerge as a communication zeitgeist in a world of increasing postmodernism. What's more disillusioning than a theory that labels a field's desire to label everything?

It's still in its infancy, but I plan to use this theory to receive tenure at a very prestigious, small, rural liberal arts college (possibly in one of the Mid-Atlantic states). It walks the line between insightful and meaningless. My colleagues could challenge my methods but never the theory itself, because doing so would call all communication study into question.

In a few years time, Duh Theory will take the the world by storm; introduced in a peer-reviewed journal you'll never read, using concepts you already know, about a field you don't care about.

San Diego.  Comic Con.  2008.  After waiting an hour for the Venture Bros. panel, we soon realized we weren't going to get in.  Fortunately the MST3K panel was in the exact same room.  So we sucked it up and waited another two hours.

While waiting, we discovered a piece of paper on the ground.  It had some one-panel comics on it.  I don't want to name the website or author because it may give him undue advertising, but I will post his work without permission.

One panel, one joke.  Told in three different ways.

Radio Psychologist Seattle

13-year-old prodigy Frasier Crane recently becomes the youngest person to graduate from medical school (take that Doogie).  He receives dozens of offers for residencies around the world, including one to become personal psychologist to Emir Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum of Dubai.  Instead, he maximizes the benevolence of his genius by taking a small radio gig in Pacific Coast metropolis Seattle, Washington.

He buys a condominium in a swanky downtown high-rise and invites his twin brother Niles, his father Martin, and Martin's canine robot butler E.D.D.I.E. to come and stay with him.

Soon enough, Frasier discovers something amiss at KACL.  The station has an uncomfortably close relationship with local software giant Macrohard, and soon ascertains that the company is using radiowaves to hypnotize residents into buying their operating systems in a plot to steal the world's RAM.  It's up to the Crane twins to defeat this evil monopoly using secret magical twin powers they inherited from a crotchety Boston street urchin many years ago.  Will they destroy Macrohard overlord Gatesaki, or succumb to the fires beneath his island hideout?


Archie Bigot 71XX

In a post-apocalyptic future, Archie and wife Edith have holed up in an underground bunker beneath the ruins of Astoria.  There he protects his family from an onslaught of multicultural sun zombie mutants, whose powers are heightened by the darkness of their skin.  For 24 years he's defended his bunker, but 12-year-old daughter Gloria is recently courted by Meathead, a light-skinned mutant/human hybrid raised by outsiders (and whose head is actually made of meat).

He tries to teach the benefits of mutant life, and despite Archie's efforts to murder Meathead and feast on his cranial sustenance, Gloria insists her love is genuine.

Will Archie successfully defend the bunker, or will Meathead infiltrate his psyche and open his mind to zombie mutant tolerance?


Syndicate Colonist

Mulder and Scully are typical low-level FBI field agents when, in a routine gang bust, they come across the secret mystical "X" File, which exposes them to strange powers.  X allows them to see aliens, vampires, ghosts, robots, bigfeet, werewolves, dragons, chupacabras, parasitic arctic worms, black oil, circus folk, or anything else deemed strange and interesting.

With help from a nerdy trio of MMO enthusiasts, Mulder and Scully hunt and kill the supernatural.  The only problem with their newfound powers is that, despite their raging sexual attraction for one another, X forbids them from consummating their love or even touching.

Will Mulder and Scully ever have sweet, passionate sex, or be foiled by Skinner's bald powers and the recurring yet baffling appearances by C.S.R. (the Cigarette Smoking Robot)?


Planecrash D.H.A.R.M.A.

This is pretty much the exact same plot as LOST, but with more robots and dragons.


Dunder Mifflin Jim

15-year-old Jim Halpert gets a job at a local paper-producing conglomerate to fund his adorable manga addiction and penchant for illogical hair designs.  He initially has trouble adjusting to the wacky work environment.  Deskmate Dwight Schrute regularly rambles on about his katana collection and shiitake farm.  Boss Michael Scott is annoyingly loud and also a robot.  Nearly all of the office's impractically large-chested women fling themselves at Jim's feet, chauvinistically ready to do what is necessary to please him (or any part of him).

The only girl in the office not fervently eager to participate in the writers' softcore bukkake fantasy is 14-year-old Pam Beesly, the prettiest and most large-chested of them all.  She is persistently coy and modest at her receptionist's desk, answering the phone in a nearly inaudible falsetto and covering her mouth when laughing at Jim's flirtatious antics.

At the end of season one, Jim befriends an elderly sensei, known only as "Creed," who teaches him to focus his macking powers into a powerful turquoise aura irresistible to all women.  Can he make it with Pam, or will his efforts be sabotaged by Toby, convicted rapist?

College radio submissions are always an interesting lot. While some come from legitimate record labels as free advertising for their weaker bands, many others are from independent solo acts trying to make it big. These artists have stars in their eyes. To them the best way to shoot up the charts is to provide samples of their work to small non-profit  stations in the hope that they will ignore protocol and play their single.

99.999% of these people are what modern psychologists diagnose as "delusional." Their music's bad and they should feel bad. There is nothing of merit in their creative endeavor. It's poorly produced, badly written and horribly executed. Their only chance of success is through some Ed Wood-esque cult following, united under the banner of complete crappiness.

Then there is that other 0.001%. R. Shand, and his blistering single "U Wanna Be a Grip," makes up this extremely small minority.


I discovered Shand's record a few years ago when my college radio station KRTU was getting rid of its many music submissions. The CD was unassumingly nestled amongst the others, presumably because the station had already entered the tracks into its computer system for repeat play during their peak listenership times (I never tuned in to the station so this is all speculation).

While KRTU's format is primarily jazz, Shand broke the mold by offering an edgy new rap single about the trials and tribulations of grip life. What is a grip, you ask? Let's look to the song's chorus to find out.

If u wanna be a grip and enjoy the strip
Buy a toolbelt, wear it on your hip
Buy the grip book, study real hard
Soon u'll be getting out with ur grip card

As far as we can tell, grip life (or "gripping" as they call it) means being a lighting and rigging technician in the film and video industries. It involves the intensive study of a book, which then allows you to carry a "grip card," the most sought-after card of all industries.

What else is there to gripping, Mr. Shand?

So u wanna be a grip, u think that's the way
Ya work real hard just to earn ya pay
Travel the planet, ya work in the lanes
Carryin' sandbags so ya can sand the sense
Make a lot of money, even write a book
Maybe write a song rip past the hook
Hard work that I can say
By the end of the year ya earn a 100 K.
It's a job, you could do
Ya get free t-shirts and expensive tennis shoes
If it's the kind of work that appeals to you
Become a grip, and make movies too

Okay, now we're really getting down to brass tacks. It seems that the duties of a grip are:

1. Traveling the planet
2. Bowling
3. Carrying sandbags
4. Writing books
5. Writing songs
6. Making movies too

The first three tasks make enough sense (except for the bowling part). However, after a cursory search, I've found no songs written by grips (except for Mr. Shand), and only one book.

Don't matter if ur big or small
Black or white, short or tall
It won't be long a producer comes along
Says, "listen kid, ya look real strong
How'd ya like to work on this thing of mine?
I think that ur ready for the really big time
Give me a break on the rate this time
I'll make it up, I promise very next time."

The hypothetical producer offers further insight into gripology. In order to break into the industry, you must lounge around for a while, doing squat thrusts and free weights and such, until a studio bigshot determines you're qualified for advanced technical work involving sandbags and t-shirts.

He promises $100,000 the very next time. I'm sure he's just holding the money for you until you get older. Like a bank, you know, except it's better than a bank, 'cause banks always get knocked off.

"Ur the best grip, I ever worked with
Ur my first call, and that's no trip
Let's do lunch, check's in the mail
Our archon's out sick, but what's the hell?"
Some words you hear, day after day
Till you manage, there's work to pay
I make it huge, the diss is miscreant
Just remember dude, it's a three picture deal

I should mention at this point that I could find no official lyrics for "U Wanna Be a Grip," so I transcribed them myself. R. Shand's lingo, rhyming scheme, and diction get a little creative at times, so I did the best I could.

"Archon" is Greek for ruler, so I can assume that he's talking about the director. Since a miscreant is an evil person, dissing him is a bad thing to do, probably because he makes it so huge.

Learn this job and make its standards
If that can't happen there's a great health plan
I'm available for work, I can ride along
Prevent some hazard finish, my great song
So this is a song, ya hear many times
Seems so easy, and most of the words rhyme
Slow down, don't move too fast
Ya got to make this overtime

I'm a little confused about the song's intentions. Is he encouraging others to become grips, or advertising his services? While he touts the great health plan, he follows that up by declaring his availability.

Also note how he cleverly mentions that "most of the words rhyme," even though it doesn't rhyme or even fit the meter.

That's my finish, before today
Gotta go home proud, cuz a show on the way
But remember, buy Uva's grip book
If u don't ya might slook like a slik
Now I've finished, this great song
Work hard, it won't be long
U too, could work just like me
Who knows? Ya might just break 100 G

Remember that one book I found earlier? It was The Grip Book by Michael G. Uva. While it appears to be the only published work about gripping, it is obviously the most important. Without it, you wouldn't know your grip ass from grip elbow. Even worse, you may "slook like a slik."

If it were my choice, I would never stop proclaiming the perfect beauty that is this song. But don't take my word for it. Let's look at some earnest and articulate reviews at Shand's CD Baby page:


No less than the King of Hip Hop Himself. At first I was doubtful as to whether the review is authentic, but after the narcissistic remark at the end I was convinced. Kanye totally talks like that!


I had no idea Marilyn Manson was so vocabularily articulate. Note the repeated use of "spit" to accompany "grip." Though his grammar is something to be desired, as he states that Shand "be baaad" instead of the more properer "is." He should spend more time reviewing The Elements of Style and less writhing on stage in a vat of orphan blood.


Jack mentions a lot of hip hop acts. He must be some sort of music historian or rapologist. He's obviously not a label exec, or he would have signed Shand already. Maybe he is and broke his signing hand by reaching for the phone too emphatically.

Below is a link to R. Shand's hip single "U Wanna Be a Grip." Please don't click too forcefully, or you might attain the same fate as Mr. Mehoff. Select with caution.

"The beauty of American arrogance is that they can't imagine a world where they're not a step ahead."

Vantage Point is a film so pointless, ramshackle, ill-conceived, wooden, dated, hokey, frustrating and overall terrible that it bears discussion. On first impression, the movie tricks its audience into thinking it's mediocre, and in many ways it is. But as it progresses, the gimmick becomes infuriatingly intrusive.  The only way to be a step ahead is to avoid it at all costs.

The Muslim terrorist Islamic fist jab recently shared between B. Hussein Obama and his 9/11 conspirator wife was the top talk amongst bloggers, right wing pundits, Fox News, and other members of the intellectual elite.  But the Senator's secret obscure physical manifestation of his plot to bring down American ideals is not the first of its kind.

Many have misinterpreted the seemingly innocent hand gestures of historical figures, world leaders, and celebrities.  The fact is, they're all part of a long line of elaborate conspiracies (most likely perpetrated by Jews) that seek to destroy everything you (read: you, the reader) hold dear.  Here are some real and actual examples.

Winston Churchill's Pro-Nazi Defeatest V



When asked about the two fingered "V" gesture flashed by former British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, he regularly responded to critics with this statement:

"It stands for 'victory' you bloody cunt-nugget tosser.  Now fetch me another drink, I haven't urinated on your mother yet."

What he didn't tell you was that it actually does not stand for victory, but something wholly more nefarious.  When looking closely at the phalangial configuration, one will notice that if two more fingers were added, stretched to a ninety degree angle, and bent at the end, it bears a striking resemblance to the Nazi swastika.

The Three Stooges took this gesture and modified it, turning it into a veritable weapon against an opponent's eyes.  The only defense against it was to create a vertical barrier using your entire hand, with mixed results.

Hippies also modified the V to represent America's defeat in Vietnam, also called "peace."


Appomattox Masonic Hand/Nation Conspiratorial Gesture



Many interpret Ulysses S. Grant's "handshake" with Robert E. Lee as a representation of Lee's pussification, while others claim is was the result of Grant's drunken balance issues, there is still more to interpret.  Notice how Grant's thumb dominates the top of Lee's hand, as if to say, "if this were a thumb war, I would be pinning down your sorry excuse for a digit."  Lee counters this gesture by grasping his sword, ready to bifurcate the bearded general at any moment.

Still too is the Union officer in the background, with his arm extended upward against an antique (though at the time fairly new) wardrobe.  Many assumed he was giving "ups" to The Lord for this tremendous event, much like the pious professional athletes of today.  In reality, however, he was not in on the conspiracy.  Civil War uniforms did not breathe very well, and he was merely attempting to air out his pits on a hot Virginia day.


Jesus's Fidget of Nicotine Withdrawal



Numerous medieval portraits of The Messiah, which now adorn the hallways of Catholic grandmothers around the world, display Jesus with the two raised fingers.  Many "Christians" want you to believe that it is a sign of peace or blessing (since touching Jesus would result in the person's head exploding).

In reality, it represents JC's crippling tobacco habit.  He went through 3-4 packs a day (back then packs contained roughly 30-100 unfiltereds), and when posing for portraits, he was required to refrain from smoking.  This left him shaky and disoriented, and he often resorted to this gesture as a point of familiarity.


Washington's Masonic Open-Palmed Alien Conspiracy Apocalypse Gesture



This is so offensive I don't even want to talk about it.


The Swedish Chef: Corrupting Your Children With Foreign Cooking Habits



While not a specific gesture per se, most associate any movement by The Muppets' Swedish Chef as jovial, friendly, and bork bork bork.  However, one may remember that a) he was one of the only Muppets to have fully functioning hands, and b) one could not understand his faux Swedish gutterspeak.  Only through his actions may we interpret his actual intentions (evil).

Notice how aggressively he holds the wooden spoon.  He grasps it so tightly that it doesn't even require the use of his thumb or pinky finger.  He intentionally grows out his mustache and eyebrows to obscure his facial features.  Finally, his left hand extends to the sky, with middle finger slightly separate from index.  It's as if he wants you to think, "read between the lines, and disregard my pinky." Know what gesture that is, parents?  The MIDDLE FINGER.  Also, he probably wants your children to get incredibly fat and die.  And I read somewhere that he was gay (most Swedes are).

I hope this information was enlightening and taught you a valuable lesson: anything and everything contains a deeper and invariably wicked subtext.

I wrote a little something about M. Night Shyamalan's new movie The Happening. We're running low on server space at Slacker-Central, so I had to host the pictures off-site. No big whoop. Hope you enjoy it.

What Happens in The Happening

I made a short movie for my montage class. It's about a bunny looking for carrots.



Props to TylerK for making the song for me. I'm in love with it.