...And Don't Call Me 'Shirley'

So anyway, if you follow the film music world much at all, particularly the licensing of said music for CD production, you'll know that Paramount Pictures (a Viacom company) is and has been the stingiest bunch of fuckers this side of a Hasidic fund raiser for the German arts. Or at least, that was the case...until yesterday.

Apparently, LaLa Land Records has broken through Paramount's steel chastity belt (of death - see, sounds scarier, eh?) and come to some sort of arrangement. The details of said arrangement are known only to the fine folks at LaLa Land and Paramount, but the long and short of it is that "the wall" is coming down - and it's beginning with a real doozy!

Beginning May 12th, at 2:00 p.m. local time, orders will be taken for one complete score to what is perhaps the greatest comedy of all time - Airplane!, composed by none other then the late, great Elmer Bernstein. This, near as I can figure, is the comedy score that defined how to really compose for comedy - that is to say that the music plays completely straight against the absurdity on the screen.

Even if you aren't particularly familiar with the score, or of Paramount's steadfast inability to budge on letting their music out, you should be rejoicing at this news...a literal vault of amazing film music is about to be loosed upon the world. Think about it, complete scores from the likes of say: All of the Star Trek films, Johnny's Black Sunday, a reissue of Chinatown, Basil's Hunt for Red October, the list goes on and on...

May is going to be so fucking AWESOME!!!

On the Subject of One Trick Ponies

So anyway, VareseSarabande recently released their tri-annual crop of "club" CD's. If anyone isn't familiar with what this entails...allow me to explain. Three times a year, VareseSarabande, considered by most to be the premier soundtrack record label, release what they call 'Soundtrack Club" CD's. These usually consist of four, sometimes five soundtracks that come either from their vast archive of out-of-print LP's, or music that is new to soundtrack album altogether. In both cases, most if not the complete score is represented in some fashion - and they're available in limited quantities...so they sell out...

...fucking fast!!!

The usual pattern includes one album with 3,000 copies, one or two with either 1,500 or 2,000 copies, and one with a mere 1,000 copies. Any guesses as to which ones go first (regardless of quality of music)?! Thus far, they've released 99 club albums. Of those, 53 are sold out, never to be made available again (thanks to licensing and re-use fees). They include such gems as the "Jerry Goldsmith at 20th Century Fox" 6-disc box set, and Alan Silvestri's Predator (arguably one of the most sought after film scores ever) amongst others too numerous to list here - let's just say I've spent a tidy sum at Varese over the last few years...and that there are a few I missed that I'm royally fucking pissed about. At any rate Varese has a penchant for releasing rare items from the filmographies of Bill Conti, Elmer Bernstein, Jerry Goldsmith, Alex North, Franz Waxman, and even occasionally John Williams.

With this last batch, I picked up three of the four (opting to skip the vintage Waxman score). One was a funky little synth-score to the 1987 film Russkies from James Newton Howard, starring a young Joaquin Phoenix (when he was still going by 'Leaf'). The second was Henry Mancini's Nightwing (a pseudo-horror film from the early 80's about vampire bats and Native Americans - odd combination, but not a terrible film). The third brings us to the title of my post...John Barry's score for the 1979 WWII drama, Hanover Street, starring Harrison Ford. So I suppose my question is thus:

Why the hell are people so goddamned ape-shit crazy for John Fucking Barry?!!!

Don't get me wrong...I like John Barry, at least some of his music anyway. I always liked the music to Hanover Street, which is why I picked it up. But Barry is, well...he's limited, at least to my ears anyway. Lovely as Hanover Street is, you could easily remove the melodic content from the theme(s) and substitute Out of Africa or Dances With Wolves and not get off by more that a beat or two. I mentioned in my last post that Brad and I have a bit of a running joke that John Barry (much like Maurice Jarre) only has three, maybe four scores. There's James Bond - I'll admit, I'm not particularly intimate with the various Bond films he scored, but to my ears they're all kinda "1000 variations on a theme". Then there's big, epic drama Barry - with the likes of The Lion in Winter, Out of Africa, Dances With Wolves, etc. In the end, these all sound relatively identical as well. Different themes and motifs to be sure, but not much variation on harmonic progressions (in fact, Barry seems to be the king of common practice chord progressions - I can't recall the last time I even heard him write something in an inversion). I suppose calling the rest "everything else" seems a bit too all-encompassing (and maybe a little lazy) but I don't want to dig that deep into his repertoire to be more specific.

Much like our dear friend James Horner, Barry seems to have an established bag-o-tricks that he falls back on regularly. I suppose one might argue that what makes him a better composer though is that he hides them better. Like Horner, Barry has a "danger" motif. Well more of an orchestral stab than an actual motif. It usually consists of very shrill, triadic brass stabs, moving this way and that diatonically - I need to be sitting at a piano to analyze them better, as it is, I'm more or less doing this off the top of my head. Anyway, you can hear it plainly in sections of Hanover Street (when ze Germans are coming). There's a lot of it in his older Bond scores, particularly when the bad guy has just done something nefarious. And almost the entire score to Disney's The Black Hole is comprised of those moments (except when it's being all jaunty and British). Still, the man seems to have his admirers amongst the younger generation of Hollywood film composers - just compare the main theme from Hanover sometime to the love theme from Pearl Harbor, ahem...

There are people out there (lots of 'em apparently) that are far more intimately familiar with Barry's musical library than I ever could be with John Williams, or Brad with Jerry Goldsmith. Maybe that's where my lack of understanding comes from - I just haven't heard enough. But then again, if he's been using the same ideas and language for his entire career, then what is it about that language that kept his fandom coming back time and again. Again, I don't know a great deal of Barry's music, but I'd be willing to wager I'd be able to pick him out 9 times out of 10, regardless of what you put on for me to hear. So what is it?! What is it that causes such unwavering adoration? I frankly just don't hear it...some of it's interesting, some quite lovely - but some is just downright boring, and more repetitive than Jim Horner could ever dream of being! If I were to post any of this on a message board, say over a FilmScoreMonthly or Intrada, I'd be strung up faster than an 1890's cattle rustler (I figured that was more PC than some allusion to a black man in the south)!

But for the love of God, don't tell a John Barry nut that he's boring...they'll find you...

...and cut your balls off! (John Barry is GOD, after all!)

Au Revoir, Monsieur - or - ...And Then There Were Three

So anyway, I know it's been a while since I posted a celebrity obit...but since this one falls into a category most of my esteemed readership - all three of you - can relate to, it seemed prudent to write it up. Monsieur Maurice Jarre (again...pronounce zhar-AY) passed away yesterday at the age of 84. As the alternate title of my post suggests, that leaves three of the "old school" of Hollywood film composers remaining - John Williams, John Barry, and Ennio Morricone. Barry has been in retirement for upwards of a decade. Big John is retired for pretty much all but Spielberg's films (though I've still got my fingers, toes, legs, arms and nuts crossed that he'll finish off Harry Potter). As for Signor Morricone, he's as busy as ever...not bad for an 81 year old guy (though after over 500 scores, one has to wonder how much new music the man has left in him). Still, his last American film score was 2000's Mission to Mars (still one of the oddest scores in recent memory) - and he's supposedly scoring (if you can believe it) Quentin Tarantino's Inglorious Basterds...it should be notable if for no other reason than it's Tarantino's first scored film!

Anyway, back to Jarre - I don't imagine that amongst our little group there's a great deal of heartbreak over this news - but still, it is kind of sad. For one, it's one step closer to the end of an era in Hollywood. And also, despite some possibly perceived short-comings as a composer, he did leave a substantial mark in film music - granted, most of it a decade before I was born. Brad and I often joke that Jarre, like Barry, only has three (maybe four) scores. There's the electronic fluff Jarre, then there's the electronic Euro-Jazz-fluff Jarre; there's also the giant David Lean epic Jarre (my favorite), then as for the rest - I suppose it could arguably be lumped into one all-encompassing mish-mash category (though what anyone would begin to call it I'm really not sure...maybe just call it...French!).

I for one have always loved Lawrence of Arabia - if ever there was a score in desperate need of a complete re-recording... Dr. Zhivago also has a beautiful main theme and generally a good score overall. I've always enjoyed Enemy Mine for some unfathomable reason - an oft forgotten Wolfgang Petersen sci-fi film from back in the day when he was a serious filmmaker . It's typical Jarre, but for some reason...it always struck a chord with me (no pun intended). One of his truly great scores, which I posted about a couple years ago, was for Top Secret!. It was perfect scoring for one of the great screwball comedies of all time - and like any great self-respecting film composer, Jarre composed the music complete straight against the absurdity that was happening on screen.

Other recent notables include Ghost, with which one could practically define the concept of tragically romantic; and another personal favorite is A Walk in the Clouds (an interesting little movie from the mid-90's which coincidentally, proves that Keanu Reeves can act). Jarre did romance well - maybe it's all the wine (did I mention he was French). Looking at his filmography, I'd forgotten that he'd scored some pretty serious films over the last couple decades, including Dead Poets Society and Jacob's Ladder (the latter of which I wouldn't mind revisiting just to hear what he did with it). Also of note, Film Score Monthly released a CD of some of his concert work recently which, when I get the opportunity, I'm definitely going to pick up.

At any rate, adieu Msr. Jarre...au revoir and all that! Say hello to Jerry, Basil, Elmer, Michael, and everyone else when you see them.

So, umm...yeah, the Pope is...well...he's retarded.

So anyway, I'm still typing this, so the lightning hasn't smote me yet. I'm sorry, I can't help it...I read this article on CNN.com and I stand fully behind my post title. So the Pope is in Cameroon...or to put it into perspective, he's on the single most AIDS-riddled continent in the world...and he's standing firm that people shouldn't, or rather can't use condoms (them's just big 'ol brass balls there man).

Riiiiiiiggggghhhhhttt!

I can't help but wonder what his stance would be if a gang of natives took turns ass-raping him for a solid 36 hours. Yes, I just made a statement containing references to both the Pontiff, and the butt sex (of the forced variety) - oh yeah, I went there. I'm still waiting for the smiting to begin...wait for it... At any rate, the article does go on to say that his Holiness is considering the holy ramifications of allowing married couples to use condoms should one of them have HIV. So, let me get this straight - it's ok, or at least might be if married couples (and let's be honest for a minute - he's referring to those in the civilized western world) to use a Jimmy hat to not give HIV to each other, but ze darkies (remember, the man is one of ze Germans) - who believe the myth throughout most of the continent that raping virgins will get rid of their AIDS - need to find an alternative to contraception and safe sex because God doesn't want all those precious spermy-men going to waste! Oh for Christ's sake!

See...this is why I don't have a religion. I have faith - I believe there's a bigger picture, I believe there's a higher existence and a higher power. But I can't stand religions. I especially don't like the leaders of religions imposing their ridiculous, ill-informed, and totally archaic beliefs on my life and the way I live it. So...fuck religion!!! I wish I knew where my old man would stand on my beliefs and opinions. He was raised Catholic, but lived life as a twice-a-year Catholic - you know, only went to mass on Christmas and Easter. I have to believe that he'd feel generally the same way I do about things like this. My problem is that there are quite literally over a billion people on the planet that live by this man's word as law!!! WHY?!?! He's just a man - and a man of questionable morality and judgement on top of that (Nazi ties anyone?!). Why, as the world moves ever onward into the 21st century, do the major religions of the world insist on keeping their faithful locked in the beliefs of the dark ages.

I usually like to smack my righteous indignation in the face of Islam at times like these, thinking that maaaaayyyyybe Christianity is getting it's collective shit together. Let's face it, you can almost time to the second when a news piece will come along relaying the tale of some 102-year-old Muslim woman who's being given 1,001 lashes, 60 days in a gulag, and having her tits sawed off because she was in the vicinity of a neighbor's male goat - my total disgust with modern interpretation and practice of Islam is another post altogether. Then a story like this thing with El Sombrero Gigante comes along and (*cue slide whistle playing down*) like a bad case of karmic, guilt-laden erectile dysfunction, the Catholics once again swap our Viagra for a Tylenol with a healthy dose of morality, circa 1452 A.D. on the side.

It's probably a safe assumption that most of us guys have, as the Catholic church would have you believe, committed a holocaust of galactic proportions with all the spermy-men we've wasted in our lifetimes. But remember, the priest with his pecker up the alter boy's ass is fine...so long as he doesn't slap on a Ramses, or pull out! Would it be in bad taste to send the Vatican a Trojan Condom Christmas Tree as a gift this year? I can't help but find it both tragic and simultaneously hilarious that the Church can justify being one of the world's leaders in HIV care and treatment, but won't have fucking anything to do with HIV prevention. Get sick and die in agony - that's cool, but don't you dare do anything to avoid getting sick in the first place - YOU'LL GO STRAIGHT TO HELL MISTER!!! It's interesting the mentality that the Vatican, and American Insurance companies share:

Big Blue Boner Pill - GOOD!!!

Itsy Bitsy No-Make-A-Baby Pill - BAAAAAAAAAAADDDDDDD!!!

One-Fingered Rubber Glove - FUGGEDABOUDIT!!!

I dunno - maybe they share board members or something...I better stop before I get really mad - and really get the Big Guy's attention.

"I am a man...in search of a vision!"

So anyway, I'm not really doing any soul searching or anything like that, but I do have a question/problem that I'd like a bit of input on. Allow me a moment to bring everyone that's not Brad (because he already knows most of it) up to speed. My thesis piece was a tone poem for orchestra with optional chorus and electronics called Solar Flare. It was a musical interpretation of a hypothetical stellar event...duh. In addition to wanting to revisit the piece and tighten a few things up, I've decided to make a trilogy of it. I know, I know...why do things always have to be in three's? What can I say, even I'm not immune to Hollywood corporate influences.

At any rate, Solar Flare will comprise the second of the three movements. As a movement it will focus on musical motion, action, and drama. As I said, I want to revisit it - among other things I want to remove the electronic element from it and find a way to suit my needs with the percussion section. I also want to give the violas more to do as I've learned quite a bit about orchestration in the years following my graduate study (shame I didn't learn much during my graduate study!). I also want to put the clarinets back into the piece (for one, it will simplify and justify their inclusion in the other two movements, and also, in retrospect, I think I made an error in judgement leaving them out to begin with). The first movement will be more about sound and texture, and will revolve around the creation of the universe (I was listening to a lot of Close Encounters when the ideas started flowing in). The third movement will be a conceptual combination of the first two and will be called Supernova. I actually had ideas for this immediately after I finished Solar Flare, I just never got very far with it. In a way, the three will represent the beginning, middle, and end of...well...everything!

...and now for my problem...

It's not much of a problem, but it is a problem. I don't know what in the hell to call the first movement. I absolutely refuse to call the first movement The Big Bang. I'm sorry, there's just waaaaaaaayyyyyyyy too many allusions to porno music with that - not to mention that generally speaking, it just sounds kinda gay and tacky! I thought about Genesis, but that might have too much of a religious context for my tastes. It might also bring with it this expectation of liturgical text for the chorus, which is something I really don't want. The chorus in all three movements is optional; their parts will be doubled somewhere in the orchestra (at least to some degree), and they're really only there to add to the aural palette - so, you know...basically just lots of "ah's" and "ooh's". All in all, I'm hoping for somewhere around a combined 30 minutes of music from the whole thing. So, I put it to you (Brad included)...what should I call my first movement? Silly as it sounds, I'm having a hard time moving on with it until I know what to call the fucker! So any and all help will be appreciated.

Oh...and I know my audience/readership/whatever. So I fully expect a deluge of dipshit, bogus, goofball ideas in the comments. Just try, okay, at least try to throw out a legitimate idea or two amongst all the ridicule. Sorry...no prizes for the winner, just a fair amount of genuine gratitude.

Ready...

...GO!!!

p.s. listening to Sneakers whilst typing all this up...I forgot how much Arvo Pärt was in there - and I mean a LOT!!! Sounds like he lifted it directly - not sure he even bothered to change keys (?). I mean seriously, it's like listening to Brad score a slasher film... ;)

Edge of a Knife, Treading Water, On Thin Ice...Pick Your Favorite Euphemism

So anyway, you might have heard about a certain political cartoon in the New York Post that's causing quite the uproar as of late. If not, this, this, and this should catch you up. God almighty, where does a guy even start without pushing at least one frakkin' hot button?! This is such a touchy subject I'm almost afraid to post my thoughts on it. As it is, I'm going to keep this as short and simple as I can as to avoid any and all potential hate mail, protests, and/or rallies that may or may not result from me, Joe M. Whiteman, voicing my opinion on the subject.

To the leaders of the African American community...please give it a rest! Have the expressions "A room full of monkeys could have done a better job" or "Put a group of monkeys in front of a typewriter and eventually they'll type out Shakespeare" never passed your ears...ever? Never?! REALLY?!?!

...wow...

...who knew?

The only thing the cartoonist was guilty of was not having enough sense to show an entire room full of bullet-riddled sapiens rather than the single victim. No one, everybody get that, NO ONE was making any similarities between chimpanzees and our new President (or anyone else in the black community at large). All in all, it was actually a very clever political pun (feel free to call me a lousy, no good, inbred, backwoods, redneck, white-supremacist cracker anytime - I can take it). No one has been oppressed by the cartoon. No one in the cartoon suggested any form of hate against a black individual. It's a pun, plain and simple, so please everyone just step back for a minute...breathe...good. Now, put away your righteous indignation for a moment and realize that it's 2009, a black man is in the Oval Office, workplace of the most powerful man on the planet. Rap stars and basketball players are making more money every year than Solomon ever dreamed of. And there's nary an African American even alive today that even had a grandparent that was a slave. I don't know if I'm feeling so bold as to say, "You've WON!". Oh, I guess I just did...hrmm. Having said all that I fully expect Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson to show up on my front lawn in a few days demanding I apologize to the entire black community.

Chris Rock was right once when he said that, "...there ain't a single white person in America that would change places with me...and I'm RICH!!!". Black people still are treated differently in nearly every business and social situation in this country. More often than not though, I think one would find that that is a result of fear on the part of the white party - fear how the black party (or minority in general) will react to what is being said and/or done. Here comes the part I'm certain many people, both black and white (but particularly black) don't want to hear: If you want to be equal, if you want to end segregation...stop segregating yourselves! That's it! It's that simple...blacks in this country don't want to actually be part of white society as much as they perceive that whites don't want them. Everybody just needs to get along...gay as that sounds. Each generation seems to become more tolerant than the last...which is a great thing! Extremists will never go away - but as the population blossoms, their herds will thin. Look, I understand completely from the historical standpoint where Reverend Al and the NAACP are coming from. It just seems to me they're trying too hard to find hate and malice where there really isn't any. I guess I just find it...distasteful...that I'm not really allowed to voice my opinion openly because of the color of my skin. Holy fuck!!! When did that happen?!

I don't know...I'm just hoping I'll live to see a day when everyone will get the joke and not see it as an excuse to spew hate and nonsense at each other. But I'm fat...so probably not...

Potty Elation (or Sometimes It's Really Awesome To Be Right)

So anyway, here we are - another post. It's kind of like Taco Tuesday - except that it's Monday...weird. Anyway, something glorious happened on Saturday. The Monkey figured out how to use the toilet! He's been more or less fighting us with it for months now. He'd pee, but it was like pulling teeth to get him into the bathroom to do it. Pooping was another story all together. For weeks (maybe months) we've been grinding the mantra "Poopy goes in the potty...not in your pants!!!" into his noggin. Like a good little soldier he would repeat - but the concept wasn't really sinking in. So, day after day, a glorious lump-o-funk would show up in his drawers. A few months back, we had the notion that we should start putting him in his "big boy" underpants everyday to show him how awful it was to have that crap in there - to little avail. One thing I'm thankful to my mom for is that she has this uncanny nose for sniffing out shit. It's scary really - she knows when he's done it...all the way from the other side of the house. All in all I'd say she drew the short straw the day they were handing out the super powers, but what the hell...it's served a purpose.

All the experts say that negative reinforcement is an absolute no-no when it comes to toilet training a child. Saturday morning, after having already changed his clothes three times in the span of about 90 minutes, the monkey stood in the kitchen doorway and proceeded to piss all over himself and the floor. I may have overreacted, but I paddled his ass for it. I felt terrible really - it was like I was scolding the family dog. We then proceeded to make him sit in his little monkey chair with his mess for the better part of a half hour. When we couldn't stand to see him miserable anymore, we changed his clothes...again...and let him go about his monkey business (pun intended).

Not ten minutes later, he was charging into the bathroom to take a piss. Another half-hour later, he did it again. I had no idea how much of a pee machine he was until he repeatedly started using the toilet. He goes 15 or 20 times a day!!! Then again, I'm also convinced he drinks three times his body weight in fluids daily as well. His mommy was the lucky one. She went in to help him once as he stood there pushing and pushing and pushing some more. She tried to explain that if there wasn't any pee in there he didn't have to come in and try. It was at that moment that a big turd plopped onto the floor behind him. Sunday, I became victim to my very first self-fulfilling prophecy. We bought him a new potty chair a week ago thinking he just didn't like getting up on the big seat. Sunday morning, I caught him sitting on the old porcelain throne...pinching one off.

I...was...exstatic!

I said months ago that one day, out of the blue, and for no particular reason, he'd just...get it! Goddamn if I wasn't right! My one regret is that I had to hurt his feelings to get the point across. But that's beside the point now, isn't it?! I was thrilled, flabbergasted - completely overjoyed. I couldn't help myself, I looked into that pot, and I...well, I cried! I can't remember the last time I was so totally happy at something. You just don't know - unless you have a child, you can't!. I'm not trying to take anything away from anyone, but I don't care how many cousins, nieces, nephews, or little brothers and sisters you have...it IS NOT the same. Obviously Der Herr und his Frau are working on it, but you really can't appreciate what I was feeling at that moment until it's your child. You just can not know the relief and elation of seeing months of struggling, months of disappointment, just disappear in a flash. I spent months racking my brain for a solution. Weeks, maybe months in a panic that maybe something was wrong - that we did something horribly wrong with him - that he wasn't right and was going to need special help. And all of that...it just...went away, all with one, adorable little...plop!!!

The plop heard 'round the world.

It was glorious. This may have been the single best weekend of my life - thus far anyway! So, to all the experts who would say I was a horrible parent for doing what I did...fuck you! That's right...fuck you - suck all the dicks. Not just a dick...all of 'em! To Brad...I've got a new potty seat for you if you'd like it (I know it's early, but what the fuck...it's free, right?!). And to anyone without a child, I hope that when you do someday have one, you don't have to go through the potty-hell that I have. And if you ever do...then I wish you all the happyness in the world when you finally get over that giant fuck hill.

Now...teaching him to wipe his little monkey butt...

...awwwwww fuck!

I Give Up...Until Next February Anyway.

So anyway, every year about this time I spend one quiet Sunday evening in February going completely insane for a few hours. I'm, of course, talking about Oscar night. Tonight was no different - for one, since I've taken up Vampirism & Commerce for the last few years I don't actually get to see the ceremony. Secondly, and as a direct result of the the first point, I end up screaming at my computer monitor at work. I'll just say it's usually more than twice, but less than would cause concern for my mental well being. And again I say, tonight was no exception.

Every year after the event, I swear it off. There's always at least one winner that gets the blood boiling. Who knows...maybe I'll mean it this year. To begin with, I've been pretty miffed ever since the nominees were announced. I'm not going to be so bold as to suggest that my opinion on the matter should be the end all/be all definitive say on who should have been nominated. But I do think it's safe to say that I, as well as most of you, along with a virtual army of thousands of film fans around the country can agree that they fucked several of the categories this year. Regardless of our thoughts on the matter, in the end I think it's safe to say that had Wall-E and The Dark Knight received their respective Best Picture nominations (as they should have), they still couldn't have overcome the wave of Curry Fever that has swept Hollywood in the last few weeks.

I should be fair in noting that I haven't actually seen Slumdog yet. I thought about it - then I went to Blockbuster one day and saw I only had to wait for a couple more weeks for the DVD, so I said fuck it - I can wait. I still can't help but think though that no matter the accolades it's received, I'm still not going to be blown away by it the way I was with the little robot and The Joker, and Some Guy in a Batsuit. Still, it was nice to see Heath get the award - honestly, could anyone on the entire fucking planet not see that happening - if any of the other nominees had actually won, about the only thing they could have done to avoid a riot would have been to go onstage and hand it over to Ledger's family in concession. In retrospect, I think it was really a Best Leading Actor role (let's be honest, he was in the movie almost as much as Bale). I'll have to YouTube his family's acceptance speech later at home.

Then there's the music categories. All I can say is, "My give up, MY GIVE UP!!!". Well...at least it wasn't fucking Gustavo Santa-wa-wa. I can't figure out why Academy voters just don't seem to think American composers can fucking write good music anymore - but that seems to be the case more often than not lately. If I'd been Tom Newman, as soon as I lost the second one I would have stood up from my seat, given the whole theater a double-finger with a big fat raspberry, and walk the fuck out! I have nothing against Rahman - actually I've never heard anything he's composed. But nothing, and I mean abso-fuckin'-lutely nothing will ever convince me that anything he did for Slumdog was even remotely as good as Newman's Wall-E.

I can't help but think that Dave Fincher's feeling about the same as Tom Newman right about now - or at least how I'd like to imagine Tom Newman should be feeling (see above). His best chance ever at acceptance (or should that be fortune & glory) in Hollywood just got pissed all over by the little non-Bollywood indie-darling that could. And he really fucking deserved it for Ben Button - especially since the Academy members didn't have enough sense (or were just too damned chickenshit) to nominate the cartoon and the superhero movie for the big show. The same thing happened a few years ago - when the best picture of the year really was a cartoon/superhero movie - you might remember it, it was called The Incredibles.

Anyway, fuck the Oscars, at least for another year. All this year's awards did was serve to further solidify just how out of touch the Academy members are with their audience. But that's okay I guess - after all, do they really give a shit?! Most of them can afford not to. It's just that yearly excuse to parade themselves out looking extra-smashing and pat each other on the asses for their collective awesomeness. At any rate...see you next year!

Pathos

So anyway, I got the following in an email today, and I just wanted to share with anyone who might stumble by my little blogsphere here. It probably won't be particularly interesting to anyone except me...just know that I've been working in the same place for going on seven years - and this would be uproariously funny if it weren't so pathetically dead-on:

You Know You Work for a Bank When…

• You sit at the same desk for 4 years but work for 3 different departments.
• You work for the same department for 4 years but sit at more than 10 desks.
• You’ve been the same job for 4 years but have had 10 different supervisors.
• You order your business cards in “half orders” instead of whole boxes.
• When someone asks about what you do for a living, you cannot explain it in one sentence.
• You get really excited about a 2% pay raise.
• You use acronyms in your everyday speech.
• Your biggest loss from a system crash is that you lose your best jokes.
• You sit in a cubicle smaller than your bedroom closet.
• It’s dark when you drive to and from work.
• The words “challenge” and “opportunity” make you shiver in fear.
• You see a well-dressed, good-looking person and know it’s just a visitor.
• Free food left over from meetings is your main staple.
• Being sick is defined as “can’t walk” or “in the hospital”.
• Workplace art involves a white, dry-erase board.
• You’re already late on the assignment you just got.
• You’re bosses most common expression is “when you get a few minutes…”.

Just so you know, I hide my stapler so no one will take it...because if someone were to take my stapler, I'd probably kill every mother fucker in the building!

Because You Demanded It...

So...you wanted a shorter post, well...here you go:

Katy Perry

...is fucking HOT!!!

...and I would gladly eat her ass.


Disgust or discuss...


...GO!!!