Piracy their dreadful trade is

I want to start an internet website that is devoted to pirating Disney pirate movies. Why? You foolishly ask, knowing it will result in a long, and impossibly unfunny monologue?

Because it's possibly ironic, depending on how you understand the concept! I'd also like to see the lawsuit.

"Stop pirating our pirate movies, you dirty thief!"

"What? The movies that encouraged me to steal, rape, and plunder and rob, not to mention thieve and noddle and cob? Make up your mind! Is it good or bad to be a pirate!? Lolzz!1!"

I will call it "Captain Long John Jack Sparrow's Treasury of Pirate Fun and Disney Movies" and I will use their logos without permission. Also, I will include pirate recordings from Gilbert and Sullivan's productions, but not the filthy crudola that isn't Disney or D'Oyly Carte.

The lengthy legal proceedings will make for good watching, and that's how I'll make my fortune. If you pirate that, I will hunt you to the ends of the world, where we might fall off into upside-down neverland, if sources are to be trusted, AND WHY NOT, DISNEY IS HONEST AND TRUSTWORTHY, right? If they aren't, then their legal standing will be shaky, to say the least, and goofy, to make a painful and pointless, but perfectly played pun.

Yo ho ho and a bootleg DVD or two!

Novel III

"No need," Dr. Spaulding pointed out, "sensors indicate the intruders are retreating. Isn't that right girl?"

Dr. Spaulding's dog nodded in agreement, her ears twitching, searching for the sound of intruders.

"I've got a pile of new gadgets for you to test on your next run."

Brick eyed the pile with some interest, but nothing beat the security of his .45 revolver and his trusted damascus blade. Dr. Spaulding's inventions sometimes came in handy, but they weren't terribly reliable in 'real world' situations when hostiles were closing in hard and fast and you had no time to read the labeling.

The hum of the dog food can opening laser perked the dog's ears up, and she trotted over, her nails clicking on the flagstone floor. She nuzzled Brick's hand briefly, and then sneezed slightly when the scent of gun oil reached her brain.

Dr. Spaulding shifted a number of levers, and an array of pulleys and ropes leapt to life above their heads.

Princess Dairies

There, I finally got around to putting this review together. Death Race 2000 stars some really funky cars, like Hanna Barbara's Wacky Races or some such. They have teeth and knives and guns, or caricatures thereof. These are used to run over people in the cross-country (LA to LA, judging from the scenery) race. On purpose, for points.


We get some commentary from goofy TV personalities, like Old Guy, Overly Friendly Female, and Scary Druggie. They provide a lot of exposition, like how many points babies are worth, how Frankenstein is a "close, personal friend of mine", and which racer just drove off a cliff through a giant ridiculous fake tunnel entrance. Scary Druggie is fun to watch, because he is like a 70's clown, and is always incredibly excited by the slightest thing, if he found a penny on the floor, he would explode like a bucket of sheep filled with TNT.



Our hero (I guess) is David Carradine, played by Frankenstein, a mish-mash of human parts cobbled together after a gazillion accidents he's accrued through the years of racing. His experience and fan base is enormous, and so was the simile I was cooking up. That's his car, it's kinda cool. Is he a bad guy? A good guy? I don't really care if you ever watch this movie, but I won't ruin his story line for you, just in case you smoke a lot of pot and want to watch this movie while dropping acid and shooting up reefer. (I guarantee everyone in the movie production was, except Stallone, he hadn't even started on steroids yet.)

See?

His character's name is too stupid for me to remember, but he's a thug, or perhaps a hood. I forget. He slaps his girl around a little, and shoots a tommy gun blindly into a cheering crowd. A little like Rambo, I guess. He may be second favorite to Frankenstein, but he's a bigger star. Also, he has guns. I'm not talking about his arm muscles there, because I'm not sure he had them there.

The President of the United States lives on a pyramid, I guess, and nobody knows where. This may indicate a post-apocalyptic setting, but I can't tell the difference between the setting here, and really early Rockford Files. He acts kind of religiously, like the Death Race is a rite or something. He provides some exposition again, and some a plot point, but don't expect this to be clever like Ultraviolet!


The gaps between legs of the races is filled with horrible, horribleness. Oompa Loompa cameramen run around with toaster ovens strapped to their backs, and David Carradine stomps around like a leathery Darth Vader, and the female racers take their tops off gratuitously.

They have the complexion of Miss Piggy.



Thank God Miss Thomasina Whatsit does not remove a single article of clothing! She leads the resistance, which is comical, and attempts to sabotage the race by killing racers and airing her Weirdness on TV in protest. She makes speeches and eventually becomes the fascist she pretended to fight against. Just like Republicans.


The crescendo, if you will, is when the resistance brings in awesome air support in the form of this here aeroplane. It's pretty badass, except the whole scene put me right to sleep. I'm pretty sure an ambulance was there to for some reason. The president blamed the aeroplane on the French to conceal the fact that the resistance somehow got an aeroplane past security and is trying to kill people by boring them to death.

There is a bunch of plot, like Thomasina's daughter is in there, David Carradine has a handgrenade, and the twist ending which hits you really fast and gives you no time to savor what the hell just happened.

It's a great idea, just hampered by such things as the 70's, no budget, and thinking gratuitous nudity and gore can make up for not knowing how to make talkies. And probably drugs.

I managed to install linux mint on my mom's oldish notebook computer, and so far, she is happy with it. It eliminates a lot of the slow down (spyware?) and now I know for sure what is running on it, and what is not.

Installation is a breeze, unless you have low memory, and then it's a bit awkward. But it includes support for nearly everything, so it's an easy switch from Windows.

I've got Death Race 2000 on it's way now, and hope to have
a review for you soon.

While I try to install linux on this old POS

Come, let us hasten to a higher plane,
Where dyads tread the fairy fields of Venn,
Their indices bedecked from one to n,
Commingled in an endless Markov chain!

Come, every frustum longs to be a cone,
And every vector dreams of matrices.
Hark to the gentle gradient of the breeze:
It whispers of a more ergodic zone.

In Riemann, Hilbert or in Banach space
Let superscripts and subscripts go their ways.
Our asymptotes no longer out of phase,
We shall encounter, counting, face to face.

I'll grant thee random access to my heart,
Thou'lt tell me all the constants of thy love;
And so we two shall all love's lemmas prove,
And in our bound partition never part.

For what did Cauchy know, or Christoffel,
Or Fourier, or any Boole or Euler,
Wielding their compasses, their pens and rulers,
Of thy supernal sinusoidal spell?

Cancel me not -- for what then shall remain?
Abscissas, some mantissas, modules, modes,
A root or two, a torus and a node:
The inverse of my verse, a null domain.

Ellipse of bliss, converse, O lips divine!
The product of our scalars is defined!
Cyberiad draws nigh, and the skew mind
cuts capers like a happy haversine.

I see the eigenvalue in thine eye,
I hear the tender tensor in thy sigh.
Bernoulli would have been content to die,
Had he but known such a squared cosine 2 phi!

~Stanislaw Lem 'Cyberiad'

?

So, once upon a time, in a far away place, in New Jersey, a simple crocus bloomed auspiciously.

This wasn't unusual. However, Ted vomited as a result. I assume you know Ted? He's an ass.

Seriously. He's no fun at parties, unless you enjoy laughing awkwardly as someone pours his drink on his date's head and spews profanity in every direction like a particularly offensive malfunctioning septic tank. Anyway, this crocus was genetically modified to release noxious fumes when it bloomed.

The alien invasion had all sorts of trickery up it's figurative sleeves just like that. They spent a lot of time making sure we replaced all of our metal objects with low-quality plastics to ensure our defenselessness, and then resorted to petty pranks.

The latest of which was that damn crocus. The crocus spent it's childhood various schools, getting chewed on and starved by negligent children and pitied by poor teachers. Then an alien by the name of 'X'hcccrtryblax'tch teleported in one night and rescued it, along with some tadpoles and a lot of staples.

Ted was an ass, did I mention that? Oh, right. So this crocus gets modified with some standard DNA replication and some Whoopiematic Laughspew. Then 'X'hcccrtryblax'tch, disguised as a lilac dragon buzzed in and placed in on Ted's counter.

Ted didn't notice it, on account of all of the detritus and debris accumulated on his countertops, which mysteriously aided the growth of our crocus, and it bloomed.

I actually don't think the Laughspew was needed, that kitchen was nasty to begin with, and Gordy nearly tossed her cookies in there on a daily basis anyway.

Novel, II

Brick rubbed his eyes, and squinted at the martini glasses on the table before him. They shook a bit, and the room spun around them. He rubbed his eyes once again, and the room steadied. It was just the glasses moving.

"Um.." He was about to ask a question, but Dr. Spaulding beat him to it.

"That's my latest invention. It's an automechanical waiter!"

"Ah."

The glasses disappeared into the cavernous recesses of the machine, and a faint shattering noise resulted. Several fresh martinis were produced from another mysterious orifice, and were set down on the table.

"I think that's enough for me, actually," Brick said. He tossed another down to steady the room once again, and drew his firearm. He field-stripped it, and gave it a good once over. Once he had put it all back together, he fired a round through the window at a horrible face that vanished as quickly as it appeared.

"Maybe we should order some Molotov's." He quipped.

I have no idea what happened to the fonts.

Hit This!

HITMAN

I actually went and saw this movie, and it isn't too bad--if you played the game the movie is loosely based on. If not, then it isn't too bad.

The premise is that Mr. Agent 47 kills people and is really stiff and unconvincing in public due to some radical upbringing which turned him into the ultimate killer, and also makes him really stiff and unnatural in public. In the game, this is kind of hilarious, being bald and scary while delivering flowers to a sick perverted Jabba the Hutt guy draws absolutely no attention. It makes you kind of nervous, wondering why nobody just shoots you in the face as a natural reaction to your scariness. This is very odd on the big screen.

Also, the movie hitman spares the life of some hooker chick. I don't know if you play video games, but if you do, you would know how ridiculous that is. Typically, you kill everyone. (I know I do.)

It's kind of disappointing that the hero only changes clothes a couple times, unlike the video game version, where you wear tons of silly disguises.

Also, why do the soldiers dress like samurai from the future? Maybe the costume designer played the wrong game?

Don't expect much from this movie, and you wont be disappointed.

I actually only played the 2nd Hitman game, and didn't finish it, but I did watch my brother some of the other ones, and I can say that watching the movie was a lot like watching him play the game, except there weren't any angry rampages after failing multiple times to sneak past guards.

I haven't posted in a long time, but that was just to keep you desperate introverted internet dwellers in suspense. I also played a LOT of video games.

Why read blogs in the first place? I don't have a whole lot to say, I don't bore you with details of my toenail clippings (unless they are shaped like the virgin Mary. She probably got some later though, so she shall henceforth be known as Mary, virgin mother of Jesus, and later not virgin at all on account of her husband Joseph, who, in all likelihood, hit that, abbreviated as: MVMOJALNVAAOAOHHJWIALHT, because that's easier to say, which just makes sense.)


I shall instead, endeavor to entertain, which is pretty hard, on account of me being pretty damn lazy.

Today's entertainment is a Video Game Review. I am (to my knowledge) the only person to think of this type of review, and deserve to be honoured with much honouring, and especially honouring with a 'u', 'cause honour is worthless without it.

I played a game called 'Assassin's Creed' which was really fun, but didn't really have a lot of assassinating. Mostly it was looking for mines in a big mine field. I didn't understand why, of all things, an assassin would waste his time looking for mines, but it was really addictive. What if you were wrong, and clicked the wrong square? You might get blown to bits, or just have to start over with another grid.

A lot of hype was spread around with a spade or trowel, or whatever manure spreader kids are using nowadays about the A.I. and the graphical resomolutions and pixelatonomy there is in the game, and frankly, I was disappointed. I assume the game was written in Visual Basic, (which is really complicated, but far easier to master than say--Pharsi) and that probably limited the graphics somewhat, but they did look spectacular on my nVidia 8800GTS 640MB from evga, purveyors of fine electronics on an internet near you.

I tried to purposely click on the little landmines, thinking I was supposed to assassinate them, believing they were targets, like little ant-like soldiers, or political figures my ant-queen was conspiring against, but I'm just gonna have to accept the designers did a horrible job with the art design of the characters, and play as if they are landmines. It's more fun that way.


I believe the little smiley face on the top of the screen is the ultimate baddy, the bossus magnus, if you will. Maybe if I played for more than 10 seconds, I would be able to reach it and assassinate it's stupid mocking smirking face, but my computer reminded me it was time for tea, and I concurred.


I give 'Assassin's Creed' a 8.9 out of an old shoe.

*note, all images in this post are stolen shamelessly from Wikipedia, unless otherwise noted. If you squeal, I will blame you for it and hack your ip address which is 127.0.0.1. Go ahead, check it out. I was right, wasn't I? I hope that scared you, you backstabbing little shrew.

Novel Part I

Dr. Spaulding put the finishing touch on his latest invention, an automechanical dinner server. He fired it up, and activated it. "Waiter, I'd like a cocktail". The dinner server picked up a tumbler, and and dropped several pieces of ice next to it. Then it sprayed several types of liquor into the air.

Dr. Spaulding sighed, and went back to work.

* * * * *

Brick sped through the night, partially lit by the waning moon, his steam powered motorbike belched black smoke behind him. The road twisted and turned through the dark forest, the dark trees cast finger like shadows that seem to reach out for him. The night blasted by, his fog lantern attempted vainly to cut the thick darkness. His googles began to fog up. He slid them back up over his leather helmet, and squinted into the darkness.

Behind him, an unearthly scream stabbed the night, and tickled the hair on Brick's spine, which stood on end. He opened the throttle, and took the next turn far to fast to be considered safe.

Brick's motorbike wobbled a bit, and then lurched forward from a violent blow from the rear. Brick drew his revolver, and fired blindly behind him, while wrestling with the controls of his bike.

Just when he ran out of ammo, Dr. Spaulding's lab lit up the night. Brick leaned forward, and with one last burst of speed, launched out of the dark woods, and crashed into Dr. Spaulding's barn.

He holstered his weapon, brushed the hay off his shoulder, and sauntered into the lab.

"Vampire werewolf monster things are getting out of control."

"Ah, yes," Dr. Spauldings replied, without looking up. "Almost done here, just one moment."

He handed Brick a cocktail, and they both tossed a few back.

Blue Helmets With Red Spots

"Cheese and Bacon," said the Dodo.

"That's a poor defense." Replied the magistrate. He slapped the gavel against another walnut, and fired another round into the lifeless paratrooper carcass hanging from a tree branch.

NATO paratroopers had been dropping through the trees since dawn, and the tall, dark, and feathery Dodo bird had been hunting them with knives and aplomb since about five minutes after dawn.

The magistrate twirled his shotgun, and dropped it in the mud.

"Damn."

Another paratrooper crashed through the trees, only to be dispatched by a volley of incendiary rounds from the Dodo's GE minigun.

"Of course, Cheese and Bacon, as a defense, hasn't been used since 1823, in Jim's Big Boy vs Kramer, not with any success, anyway. My version is slightly more advanced."

"I hope so," the magistrate commented, wiping his shotgun clean with a lark and a frown. "By the way, I heard Kramer was sacked recently."

Sirens wailed, and sailors listened drunkenly, only to crash into the rocks. More paratroopers landed, their knees making grisly crunching noises as they snapped like kindergarten teachers at Red Bull and Firearms day at school.

The magistrate, recently dewigged, took a hit from a hipflask, and scrawled a memorandum on the importance of firearm cleanliness. The sound of a GE minigun exploded and echoed through his skull like a crappy Britney Spears tune.

Standard issue brain-gnomes clubbed the echoing sound with a spatula, and poured it out the magistrates ears with an inordinate amount of blood.

The Dodo released the trigger, and scratched his head.

"Is NATO good or bad?" He asked.

"What?" The magistrate was holding his bleeding ears and crying a little bit.

"Is NATO the good guy, or bad?"

"Oh, um... Bad?"

"Ok."

The Universe

Almost all of my vacation was spent playing video games and killing terrorists, and now I'm back at work.

CRAP.

Today's story goes a little like this:


Sing O Muse, the song of Vergilus,
Droid of amusing stature, and first
To travel the length and breadth
Of the Universe.

Starting at One End, and young,
Vergilus donned his Shining Armour
Engraved with ones and zeros.
He was ready to go.

On his cybernetic chariot he
Flew into the darkness of space.
The light of a thousand suns
Shine reflected in his Shining Armour.

As a falling star in spring, brilliant in the sky
Vergilus shot through the nether
Through Chaos he left a shining trail
Of ordered integers in Fibinacci.

Night awoke, and suprised "Who is this
That dares through Chaos? Who interrupts
My sleep? What Light is this? Has Dawn
Lost her way?" So, Night.

Vergilus escapes Chaos, and enters
Our heavens. The Twins and the Bear
Which some call the Plough stare in
Shock. Orion stops his Hunt.

The Dragon nips at his heels, Cancer
Stings in vain at the chariot as it
Flies past our terrestrial home.
The Virgin blushes at the sight.

As a bright comet, as a passing sun,
Greater than Jupiter in Brilliance,
Shaming Sol, and dwarfing Luna,
Vergilus in his chariot shines.

This is the midpoint of the Universe,
There is much to travel still, so
Much time to cover and space
to fill.

Into Oblivion, Vergilus speeds, out
Of our sight. There he meets monsters
Of Nightmare and Doom. His chariot
Sparks light and he Laughs.

Teeth and Talon, Tooth and Claw, clutch
And slash, but his Shining Armour deflects
It all. Demons scream at the light that
Still radiates from his car.

Out of Oblivion he shoots! Into Brave
New Worlds, unexplored, and young, he
Emerges, aflame, and unweary. Outstripping
Dawn, and even Rumor.

Our Tin Hero is nearly done, but what
Dangers lie ahead? What is the Other End
Of Space? Adamantine and warped. Sadly,
Vergilus arrives.

Silicone and tin drift through our galaxy,
Meteors and Asteroids, Comets and Debris
Are all that is left, as Vergilus' chariot
is smashed to bits.

Sing O Muse, of the Charioteer of Tin, Vergilus.
The first to travel the breadth of the Universe,
Who drifts in amorphous silicone through
the Heavens.

All work and no play...

My sister just emailed me the following letter I composed at my grandmother's house whilst testing her electric typewriter. It makes more sense than many of my more recent blog posts---

"Dear Sirs:

Why do you torment me with your bills and strong arm men? I am a sensitive individual. I cannot abide such mean and worldly pursuits.

If you must persist in this cowardly persecution, I may be forced to pay you in old fish heads and used lightbulbs. We neither of us want that to happen, do we?

Please do not send that man named "Roscoe" again. He is a frightening, beastly man. I cannot understand why you would employ such riff-raff. I had thought you were more verflavian than that.

Also, I wonder if you would mind returning my dog you repossessed on Friday. he is quite nice, and I am afriad of what Roscoe may do to him. The dog's name is "Baskin Robbins" but he will respond to "TCBY" as well. DO NOT FEED HIM MONKEY WRENCHES! This is a Bad Idea. I did it once, but it was an accident. He is really too small to properly digest such things. Use smaller hardware if you must.

Thank you for your kind attention, and remember to smell the buttercups as they are loving caresses by the light of the moon in June with a spoon in your buffoon.

You will not find me at my previous address, so don't bother."

---You might not think it as funny as I do...

Spaced!

One of my new favorite shows!

If you like Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz, then you'll love this show. It's fantastic.

Nine times out of ten...

"Soooooooooooo

ooooooooooooS"

Thusly did the radio transmitter on the dashboard squawk. Little lights blinked randomly.

Mike's head snapped up, and he rubbed his eyes.

"Shouldn't have been sleeping on the job, Mike." He told himself.

He glanced at the dashboard, and fell asleep again.

====================

"French Fries?"

"Yes." Captain von Rickenheimer slapped the princess.

8888888888888888888


"Which one do you like best?" Mary Darling asked her pet flamingo, George.

"The red one does not suit your complexion." He said, matter of factly. He took a puff from his ivory tobacco pipe, and squinted.

"Are those electric, or gas?"

"I wish!" I still have use my imagination to make them go."

Mary pouted, and fired a few rounds at the wall.

"Nearly finished my second name there" She commented, before holstering her weapon, and spitting on the floor.

George flapped his wings, and soothed his ruffled feathers.

"At least you don't have to turn one of those damn cranks."

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww


Four Prizonshiv cruise missiles cruised towards a large bulbous city that crept across the horizon. They were large, massively large. They had to be, to carry all of that cranberry jelly.

On radar, they were little bigger than the period at the end of this sentence

qrqrqrqrqrqrqrqrqrqrqrqrqrqrqrqrqrqr


Mike slapped at an imaginary fly that tickled the hair on his hand, and continued to dream of walruses and Spanish Guitar.

"Sooooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooooooS"

"Blink"

"Blink"

99999999999999999999999999999

In the corner, a wily cockroach scanned the readout on his wrist computer.

"All systems are functionals" He clicked, harshly.

"Durkha, Durkha!"

.......................................................:.........

The princess sneezed. Captain von Rickenheimer wiped his nose and drew meaningless little designs on the cocktail napkin.

Two shots rang out, and a third grabbed his jacket and ran.

"Damn you." The princess muttered under her breath, and stabbed the Captain in his face.

Her decorative sandwich toothpick snapped in two, leaving her holding the decorative spleen portion, while the pointy business end jutted painfully out of the cheek of the Captain.

He fell to the floor screaming.

"Horseradish! Not Horseradish!"

The waiter cleared the table.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

"Well, if you already liked that one, then why bother me?" George swallowed his whiskey awkwardly, as only a bird, or possibly a baby human can.

Mary Darling shot a glance at him and selected the one she secretly wanted all along, and inserted it into her clothing emitter. Instantly, the world exploded into a ball of cranberry jelly.

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox


The vast army of cockroaches approached the creeping mass of cranberry jelly in lockstep. They brandished marlin spikes and turnpikes.

"I say," quoth the soaring beetle-hawk,"lets eat them cockroaches, eh?" His wings closed tight against his body, and he dove down, like a hockey player. The roach army disappeared in a puff of feathers, and nine times out of ten, that sort of thing will happen.

One day, in midsummer, when Helios shines in full power over the earth, and Boreas is sleeping far off, I was tramping through the woods with my loyal dogs, Argos and Colin.

The dogs followed their noses and ears, chasing squirrels and bunnies, and sticking their snouts into gopher holes. The dark wood was lovely and cool.

My senses were overwhelmed by a song that my dogs did not seem to hear. I followed it to a dank cavern that gaped in the side of a mossy hill. The song reverberated through the dark cave. Colin's ears pinned back and he sat outside the cavern, whining slightly.

Argos bravely entered the cavern with me. I lit a makeshift torch, and ventured inside. I slid on the slick muddy floor, and plummeted done into emptyness. The dogs barked above me in the distance.

* * * * * *

I awoke in a dim blue light that had no apparent source, yet lit my surroundings completely. Argos licked my face, which had a bit of clotted blood on it. I stood a bit shaky after my fall, and studied my situation carefully. In the faint light allowed, wild and bizarre shapes twisted their way from the floor to the ceiling, and dark shadows played along the trunks of subterranean trees. The air was cold and thick. Argos stood behind me, and his ears pricked.

A dark stream flowed at my feet, dividing the mossy floor into a veritable archipelago. Albino minnows leapt from the water, and nipped at glowbugs that hung overhead, their reflections in the glassy dark water resembling nothing so much as a large city seen far away at night.

I took a few steps forward, and skipped across a couple of stones in the midst of the stream to the other side of the cavern. Argos stepped lightly on each stone behind me, as if he were afraid to touch the waters.

I was still being drawn to the song that echoed softly in the distance. My eyes strained through the dim lights and shadows but my efforts were not rewarded beyond a few feet and glimpses of large mottled butterflies that flittered across my path in silence.

I patted my dog's head when I found a path that twisted through the trees. The song grew fainter as if it was retreating down the same path. I increased my speed, but the song seemed farther away than ever. I hurried even more, but gained no ground. The song almost drowned out the sound of the rushing wind, the clicking of Argo's claws and my own echoing footsteps.

The darkness swallowed me up.

I groped frantically in the darkness, it seemed to seep into my pores, it was suffocating. I took a few slow steps, and fell into fast flowing water. It was only inches deep, barely above my ankles. I followed the flow, hoping it would lead me. Somewhere.

It did. The water was the same stream that greeted my arrival in the beginning, and was my constant companion during my race through the cavern, though I didn't pay much attention at first. I followed it into a high-ceilinged cathedral of a grotto. Mossy buttresses stretched away, far above, and sweet smelling flowers twinkled in the light of a thousand glow bugs that shone like so many stars in the night sky above me. My attention was completely captivated by a marble figure that stood in a rocky fountain, and sang a song ever so sweet.

Pirates 3!

It's a really good movie, but I thought there would be more piratey stuff?

Why did Jane Fonda take over the Jack Sparrow role? What happened to the Dagobah place?

These are questions that may never be answered. Instead, we are thrown into a new location (San Fransisco) without explanation, and instead of sweet swashbucklin' swordplay, we are assaulted with boring ass speeches and lame pratfalls poorly portrayed by Lindsay Lohan and Felicity Huffman. Jane Fonda does a good job playing a regular non-pirate, but here pirate performance in this movie is SUCK.

Dermot Mulroney carries the whole movie. His part is played with piratey pinache that even Erroll Flynn would be jealous of. The nuances were both delicate and buccaneering, he was filthy and swarthy and everything a pirate should be.

Also, why didn't they have any ships? Disney made a poor choice when they decided all of the pirates should drive cars and trains. But it kinda worked on some level.

The final scene where Jack Sparrow (Jane Fonda) argues vehemently with Barbossa (Dermot Mulroney) was fantastic! The stunts blew me away. Adjectives and pronouns were far better than in the last movies.

I totally recommend the movie, I cried at the end! I applauded.

Who the hell is Georgia?

Spiderman 3

Top ten reasons to see Spiderman 3

1. Venom
2. Venom
3. Venom
4. Venom
5. Venom
6. Venom
7. Venom
8. Venom
9. Venom
10. Sandman?

My violent shoe theory

Ambulance chasing Jack Thompson claims that violent video games helped train whatshisstupidface to shoot people at VT, and also all of the other school shooting jerkwads. His evidence? Basically, it's correlation. Which proves nothing. They all played violent video games?

Guess what?

They all wore shoes.

• Violent nutjobs cannot have the success at shooting innocent people that they do without wearing shoes. How far would they have gotten without them?
• Did you know that our Army Special Forces (trained killers!) wear shoes? It's true.
• Lee Harvey Oswald, John Wilkes Booth, and John Rambo wore shoes.
• Big Game Hunters wear shoes as well. It helps them track and kill their prey.
• The Columbine wacktards wore shoes.
• So does your mom!
• Most of the world's armies train to kill in shoes.
• Executioners in prison wear shoes.
• Nearly every character in every violent action movie wears shoes.
• El Wray wore shoes.
• JACK THOMPSON WEARS SHOES.
• Every killer, every unbalanced violent wacko in this country is wearing shoes that ANYONE CAN BY AT A STORE WITHOUT HAVING TO PROVIDE GOVERNMENT I.D.!

That should be proof enough. Violent video games aren't to blame for this massacre, shoes are.

I challenge Jack Thompson to defeat my impenetrable logic.