The 193rd step on the last road home.

Fat Alcoholic Rock Star: The Series

While I was struggling to awaken yesterday morning, Little Man and I watched a VH-1 documentary about '80s metal music. It was near the end of the program, since the lazy historical view that hair bands were destroyed by the emergence of flannel bands was being trotted out for the millionth time. Tedious shit, until Vince Neil of Motley Crue rambled on at length about how awful that grunge racket was. Quoting from memory: "I hate grunge music. I don't get it. We were all about fantasy and fun, where you could go to a show and get away from reality for two hours. Grunge, it's like 'I hate myself. I hate everyone. Life sucks.' Who the [bleep] wants to listen to that?"

The segment ends and the first commercial aired is an ad for REMAKING VINCE NEIL, a reality program about how he's dealing with his drinking and eating problems. And it looks like Vince is getting some plastic surgery done too! RAWK ON!

[mostly posted to test the new blogmailer. Remember, I never promised you a rose garden.]

thlinking about the media

Jack Newfield is dead, which is a tremendous loss for both journalism and the City. His books are pretty great, even when you didn't know anything about story's particulars beforehand.

When I lived in Seattle, I found their Weekly to be little more than free toilet paper, but Geov Parrish's editorials were usually the last page I'd use to wipe my ass.

And, since these things always come in threes, here's another weekly-paper editorial about the year in media. John Powers' list is quite enjoyable, despite many of the entries being an old classic with a new paintjob: Timeliness always trumps greatness in the short term, vertical integration guarantees us one DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES a season and [semi-]independent film has always been a haven for dorks to concoct pipe dreams about wonderful, beautiful women who love them and the nerdy shit that they love.

The 192nd step on the last road home.

Killing time waiting for a conference call

These must be very exciting times [in the Confucian-curse sense of the phrase] for gas-station owners.

Keith David is the PLATOON guy who does all the video-game, cartoon, military-recruitment and PBS voiceovers; David Keith is the OFFICER AND A GENTLEMAN guy who, um, owns a cattle ranch in Tellico Plains, TN.

I would like to find the first student to take a quantum-physics class, bomb the final test but demand a passing grade because the teacher affected the result by measuring it. I would like to find that student, kill him and eat his heart, thereby gaining all his power.

Raymond Burr was gay, served in the Navy [not to be redundant] and loved throwing dinner parties [not to be redundant]. He also believed in sharing your money with your loved ones and starred in what has to be the best movie now playing in your imagination: a 3-D thriller titled GORILLA AT LARGE.

Never forget to kill Eurymachus and Antinoos first when you get home.

The 180th step on the last road home.

Vidiot Rampage!!!!

[With apologies to Graeme McMillan.]

In my ongoing battle against Endemic Treponematosis, I've spent a few hours shopping for old Playstation 1 video games. I'll explain later. I'm now completely in love with ebgames.com, since they have the unintentionally funniest customer reviews, ever. [Also, they're giving me a 26% discount. Good people, good people.]:

I didn't think anything that would be tied to such great characters as the X-Men could be so crappy, but this completely surpasses anything I could ever anticipate as crap.

Yes, it's hard to believe that admirers of such great characters as the X-Men would ever have to anticipate such a high level of crappiness in their merchandise.

Its a good game for any Spawn Fan.

And I thought I had mastered sarcasm and the backhanded compliment.

I want to get this game but it sounds scary. How scary can it be. It can''t be any scaryer then the fanstic resident evil series. It sounds scary cool. This is probely a game that dark and so scary that it will give you a heart attack. I have never seen any pics of the so I don''t know how it looks. I''ll be back to wright A review on how the game is when I have played it. This is A preview because I have never played the game.

I wish this was the only "preview" I read while I browsed, instead of the 43rd.

Punky ain't your typical mascot with an attitude. He's a gen-X skunk who loves extreme sports - and he's on a mission! He's gotta save his friends.

Not a review, but this solicitation copy horrified and delighted me too much for me to not share it. I'm tempted to buy a copy and see if it's as bad as I imagine it. Or perhaps I'll blow the four bucks on two copies of Syphon Filter 1 to use as coasters.

JESUS CHRIST, WHY?!
"This is the most disgusting game in history. I threw this the trash can, after i put it in my playstation. If u want to buy an ugly game buy BMX XXX, i prefer playin with girls on bikes than playin this of


Looking at how his ramble stops in mid-sentence makes me hope nothing happened to this kid. It's sad that he's dumb enough to buy a fucking Three Stooges game expecting it to actually be good, but it would be awful if he had been killed by a capo from the Three Stooges Playstation Mafia for trying to warn people that the game sucks. I mean, if word about it got out, no one would waste $4.99 for a used copy of that piece of

The 178th step on the last road home.

The record, it is now straight

Many people, they come up to me on the street, they ask me, "Milos, I read on the public-toilet wall, I read that you swear you will never ever waste your vote on a Democrat again! Is this true, this thing I read?" I say to them, "Yes!" "Why?" some of them ask. "Because I hate!" I say to them, "Now go eat a box of FUCK!!!"

Now, I can tell those people who ask me, they should go to this post and they should read it, and then waddle off to gobble the FUCKBOX, hunh!!!!!!!

The 177th step on the last road home.

Something fun to yell on the toilet to disturb anyone within earshot, Part One

I'm reading a book about vampires in the bathroom this afternoon, and I learn that real vampires are obsessed with counting seeds and grain to the exclusion of everything else around them, so if one is about to attack you, just throw some poppies or millet on the ground and run away [or just kill the damn thing] while it counts.

"ONE! One pumpkin seed! Ah! Ah! Ah! TWO! Two pumpkin seeds! Ah! Ah! Ah!"

The 175th step on the last road home.

The 174th step on the last road home.

GOJIRA FRUSTRATES AGAIN

What it is, pathetic mammals,

I hope you can you recall a news item from a few months ago about Robert Chamberlain, a man who was arrested after coating his entire hotel room and himself with petroleum jelly? Milo tells me that his case was heard this week and he pled guilty to a reduced charge of Criminal Mischief, sentenced to three years probation and ordered to pay the hotel a little less than $4,000 US in damages. The judge didn't ask him why he did it, and Chamberlain didn't tell.

Would you like to see a jpeg of the Vaseline man? Of course you would!

But first, it has been brought to my notice that I have not "link-blogged" in some time, so please receive the pleasure of these offerings:

Hail! Hail!! Mary Kaye!!! [Not the shitty cosmetics magnate.] The site's crude and the grammar is somehow worse than mine in places, but you will love the woman who made Las Vegas fun and endorsed the best Stratocaster model, ever. So clean ... so elegant ... so blonde and gold.

Alex Toth on "Intellectual Amos." The pleasure of Andre LeBlanc's comic strip is great and substantial. Enjoy it presently.

Mugshots, mugshots and more mugshots. Very humorous. Looks like Jeffrey Jones took a few shots to the face prior to his mugshot was taken, punches that smirking prick Macaulay Culkin clearly could've used before the cops took his picture.

I suppose Special Education students need statutory raping too.

Just looking at the photographs of his mother and father, their son is an ideal posterchild for abortion. Retroactive abortion. As in the child's eight or ninth trimester.

As if the photo alone doesn't underline how dorky Billie Joe of Green Day truly is, turns out he drives a BMW. Glen Fucking Campbell is more punk than him, and that codger's so old I'm reasonably certain a swift kick to his hip would reduce it to dust.

No one knows what it’s liiiiiiike
To be the bald man
screwed by the mail man
Behind blackened blue eyes


Like far too many child stars, the adult life of the child actress who played Lucy Van Pelt quickly spiraled into a miasma of drugs, prostitution and face-punching contests before dying young in prison.

Hey, tell you what, cops need "hillbilly heroin" too, you know.

Black Popeye.
Jill O'Lantern.
Johnny Brainiac.
And the ghost of Emma Goldman. Together, they fight crime.

From this week's mailbox: "Neateye" writes

Call out Gouranga be happy!!!
Gouranga Gouranga Gouranga ....
That which brings the highest happiness!!


Dear Neateye,

Fuckin' A, pal. Fucking ... A.

I'd like to think the above are lyrics taken from a reggae song about an exotic cheese, and that makes me happy.

Warmest Regards,
Gojira

ps. Behold! The Vaseline Man!!!


Aw, isn't he CUTE!!!

Notes from the road to Woodstock

While traveling through Eastern upstate New York, it's good luck [and a good time, wink] to visit the towns of Surprise, Paradise Hill, Coxsackie and Climax, in that order. Homosexulas and hetero wisenheimers may detour over to the village of Gayhead between Surprise and Paradise, so long as the latter group understands that they will someday die completely alone.

You will never be funnier or more lucid than when you have absolutely no way to write down your brittlest bon mots and keenest observations of life. This also applies to Web site URLs. Don't even bother trying to remember anything later.

There are only two truly wasted opportunities in this life: One is telling someone that you love how you truly feel and the other is buying a bong in from of a Shandaken cop from the front counter of that town's one-stop gas station/pizzeria/Army-Navy store/video-rental hut/grocer/head shop. These two can be combined quiet easily, although you'll probably wind up in jail if you try it.

It's a little strange to take sharp turns in the roads in/out of Woodstock, the spots where Bob Dylan and various guys from The Band totally fuckin' beefed it 30-odd years ago. There, but for the grace of Gawd, power steering and a blood alcohol level of 0.000 went I, I guess.

The 167th step on the last road home.

GOJIRA GETS THIS OVER WITH EXPEDITIOUSLY

hello tiny dancers in my hand,

Mail's light this week, but I get to do a good deed for one of my people back home. Often, I recieve shit from colleagues and admirers claiming I don't "give enough back" of my fabulous sucess. Onward!

Dear friend,

This is a proposal in context but actually an appeal soliciting for your unreserved assistance in consummating an urgent transaction. By way of summarized profile of myself, I am Senator Luisa Pimentel Estrada, a 74years old lady and the first wife of Joseph Ejercito Estrada (former head of state and President of Philippines) who is presently held in detention in a hospital outside manilla,Philippines. However, the current administration of Gloria Arroyo(The President of Philippines) the present Government have resolved to freeze all known assets of Joseph Ejercito Estrada including properties at home and abroad and are presently embarking on to seize the various bank accounts of my Husband in Switzerland,UK and Australia. We cannot be held responsible for the sins of my Husband. In view of this plight, I expect you to be trustworthy and kind enough to respond to this distressed call to save our family from a hopeless future. And if you agree to help, we shall discuss the disbursement ratio in our next correspondence after we have been acquainted. In fact, the attack on our family (The Estrada's) is so devastated to an extent of seizing our traveling passport, family accounts, trying some members of our family in court for offences allegedly committed by my Husband and even restrict us from seeing my husband. Ihave carefully moved out these funds (US$18 million), before my husband was impeached to an offshore Deposit Company.From past experiences, many people I had regarded as close friends has capitalize on my family's travail to run away with my money. In order to avert this negative development, I in conjunction with my son (DANIEL) now seek your permission to allow my attorney do a CHANGE OF OWNERSHIP/REASSIGNMENT OF CREDIT of stated funds from the deposit company to your name, so that the funds (US$18million) would be released to you as the new owner (on behalf of me and my family).In view of this grievous threat to our Economic and personal survival, our family trustee have secretly protected the deposit, you are to assist us to lay claims of the consignment with the aid of all legal documents that will be forwarded to you as time goes on. I am writing because when I deposited the money in the deposit company, I told them that it belonged to a foreign business partner and my present position will not allow me to claim the funds. Consequently, I will present you as the owner of the funds in the Deposit Company so you can be able to claim them. This is simple. I will like you to provide immediately;

1. Full names
2. Contact address
3. Telephone and fax numbers

Once I receive this information, we will prepare the necessary documents that will put you in place as the new owner of the funds. The money will then be released to your custody by the Deposit Company, for us to share. No doubt this proposal will make you apprehensive,please we employ you to observe utmost confidentiality and rest assured that this transaction would be most profitable for both of us because we shall require your assistance to invest our share in your country (buying of properties like houses, hotels etc). This is why your urgent action and response is of priority to enable us concluding this transaction in a timely and professional manner.

Awaiting your swift response via this email address: lpeestrada@nyc.com indicating your interest pls.
Thanks and regards,
Luisa Pimentel Estrada.

_____________________________________________________
Mail sent from WebMail service at HARDROCKDETROIT.COM


Dear Luisa,

I would enjoy the pleasure of assisting you in your consumption. Here is the simple information you have requested of me for you and Daniel, my brother.

1. Gojira S. Kijou [you may drop the "S" for "Savings"]
2. The East River, usually somewhere near the Java St. dock, New York City, 11222
3. I won't have a phone or fax until I get my new Treo, sorry.

Hope this helps!

warmest regards,
gojira

The 158th step on the last road home.

GOJIRA KIJOU'S BABYLON

Greetings little humans,

I am back and ready to answer your e-letters! Let us "get to it" and enjoy the pleasure in groups.

Oh, but first: Merkins! Happy "Thank our God the natives didn't kill us on sight" Day! I shall be guest-posting here all day, presumably, since I understand that my web-log host is cooking and watching video recordings of the Mystery Science Theater 3000 human and robots denigrating some of my efforts and other films. Having deliberated on the matter, I have decided to not take offense if you meat twigs view one of my poorer films [a "turkey," if you will] to accept amusement at my expense on this, your annual "turkey day."

Dear Gojira,

I am curious to know your feelings about the recent symposium on your career held in Lawrence, Kansas. Was your absence from the guest list due to financial considerations or do you take issue with the premise of the event. Also, will you be attending the U.S.premiere of your new film and the unveiling of your star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in November? I live in the area and I would like to attend the premiere if you will be there.

Thank You,
Will Stegemann


Dear Will,

Thank you for such a thoughtful note. Permit me to not answer it tersely: I understand not why so many express concern about my "financial considerations"; As I have stated prior, I am "doing OK" for money. There is no cause for alarm!

No, I did not attend the "symposium" because I hate all pop-culture academics, the nerds who utlize our world's knowledge to justify their infantile love of disposable crap. Better that they concoct some dialectic reading of how the changes in my mighty roar reflected Japan's emergence on the stage of the world than to embrace their intellignce to a munitions firm perfecting a weapon the so-called "National Guard" may use to actually harm me, this much goes without saying. But to think harder about the body of my work than we who made made them is a fool's game for idiots. Also, the symp's would not pay to have me "air lifted" to Asscrackin', Nebraska or wherever the hell it was.

My apologies for such a tardy response, but no I will/did not attend the United States' premiere nor the unveiling of my "star"; one of my children, who resembles me closely despite being so puny in size, will be at both. I haven't made an "industry" appearence since the unfortunate incident at the Gojira Tai Hedora/Straw Dogs "sneak permiere," on your yankee's New Year's Eve 1971, where I soundly thrashed a beligerent Sam Peckinpah and accidently stepped on Susan George. She was really shocked and appalled at first, but then really started liking it. Regardless, sending one of your boys to "be you" at bullshit "social functions" is a trick I learned from my dear friends, Santa Claus and George Foreman. Thank you again for the nice letter, Will.

warmest regards,
gojira kijou


Gojira,

Can you settle a bet for me? My friend reckons that the source of your lifelong feud with the late great John Ford was based on his backing down on giving you the Hank Fonda part in "Fort Apache" after the studio complained you were eating too many of the horses, and one or two extras. I say that it was because Ford copped one of your fins to the eye at the 1953 Oscars, and that Ford blamed you for losing it later. Which is true? I've read both in reputable biographies.

Thanks,
Lieutenant Crazypaws


Dear Lieutenant,

I would be happy to assist you and your friend. While it is correct to say I fueded with John Ford, the source of ire in this case is personal and national in nature. That is to say, I hate Ford because he was an "Irish-American" pig to whom Pearl Harbor, Nagasaki and Hiroshima were little more than something to "throw in my face" every chance he had. Late in life, I would think when the alchohol started to destroy his brain, Ford loved to tell our mutual pals that I poked his eye out at the Oscars, but these are lies, since I was still doing summer stock in '53, after all.

No, I've been told that Ford got a poke in his eyeball when Audrey Hepburn and Donna Reed catfought over whose Oscar had been inserted in Fred Zinnemann's anus at the post-show party at the Brown Derby. Of course, it was Donna's, that filthy girl. Audrey had thrown Donna down a flight of stairs into the basement, then ran over and pulled the Oscar out of Zinnemann's ass. She and her first husband Mel Ferrer were anxiously waiting for a valet to pull their car around outside as Ford was on his way into the party, when Donna tackled Audrey at full speed. The feces-covered award rocketed out of Audrey's grip and carreened straight to Ford's eye. Some people say he went blind out of embarrasemnt, like a martyred character from a folk legend of yore, but I believe that the blow to the eye plus Ford's refusal to wash the shit off it -- young prankster Frank Sinatra, who saw the whole thing, fooled Ford into thinking it was Donna's poop, and who wouldn't want to have Donna Reed's shit on their face? -- was what led to the blindness.

I worked with Ford once, but not on Fort Apache. After some mediating and carousing with our mutal pal/admirer Orson Welles, Ford and I agreed to make "Sgt. Rutledge" together, with me in the title role. It's didn't go very well since most of Ford's acting solutions and motivations involved liquer and spirits, which don't work very well when you weigh several hundred tons. Also, it was hard to look Ford in the good eye, knowing he lost the other one to his fetish for female ass-vomit. I bowed out after a week or so and Woody Strode stepped in and did a marvelous job.

By the way, during the golden days of studio contracts, you were allowed to eat the extra extras and any animals the wranglers left unattended. The front office would dock your pay accordingly, but live meat was cheap in those days. During a break shooting "Arabesque," (all my scenes were cut, by the way) Gregory Peck, Stanley Donen and I laughed and laughed about what a cheap tightass Cary Grant was about that; like, he'd kill the occasional extra to kill time between set-ups, but then he'd take the corpse home and use every part of it to make sure he "got his money's worth." I remember on our first day of shooting on "That Touch of Mink," (again, all my scenes were cut, but you can see my shadow in some wide shots) Cary bludgeoned an extra to death and took it home. You would think that someone as rich and famous as Grant would have scores of nice shoes, but Cary would come to the set in these frayed, battered loafers that were held together with string and tape he had clearly gotten from the studio office. We teased him mercilessly until the last day of reshoots, when he walked on set wearing a pair of human-skin mocassins. Yes, ol' Achie had skinned and tanned that extra and made shoes out of him. Very stylish shoes, I hear. Anyway, extras used to be good eatin' until you Americans got so fat and lazy. You should all know that.

warmest regards,
gojira

The 153rd step on the last road home.

GOJIRA HAS RETURNED

But, I am still experiencing technical difficulties. Please stand by.I got a regular net connection now, but I've forgotten most of my passwords -- I kept them in my password manager so I wouldn't have to remember them damn it. I shall answer yourt letters soon I swear.

Warmest Regars,
Gojira

The 149th step on the last road home.

Shooting Fish, Part the Whatever

What does it all mean, Alfie? Fun With Screencaps I:

This sequence of Yahoo.com headlines made me laugh.

What does it all mean, Alfie? Fun With Screencaps II:

Of the thousands of pictures of my Condi in the Associated Press's files, AOL.com chooses this one with that headline for their front page today.

Your amusing WWJD?/comics link juxtaposition for the day: First, read this review and then go read what passes as a response from the artist. I think Jesus would have either left the four-letter stories out of the collection altogether and purge them from his official bibliography, or collect them as-is, Joe. Of course, I think he'd leave in the references to Eastern religions for the trade as well -- which were also deleted, I guess because Zhuang Tse was such a pottymouth.