Bananas and railcars

I took the last road to Nazareth, and found myself in Oxnard, complete with a gaggle of elderly runway models in toothpick slippers, ranging from ages 25 to 32. Elderly, as far as they are concerned.

I walked with my filthy assistant, stuck in a dust cloud of pnemonia and other schoolboy saviors. I knew the coming days were going to be pee-cheap.

To my surprise, there was no pee. None whatsoever. It would have bothered me in another world, but these days, I dont let things like that faze me. The blowjob was great though, and the job was complete. I only wish she didn’t stop when we got caught, but thats what the future is for.

So far though, the future hasnt given me the urine I so long for, but it has promised it to me, and for once in my life, just once, I believe in this future. I believe in our future, together, riding on golden streams and lollipops.

The cigarette clouds pass by, taunting my past addiction. Gonna order some e-cigs, instead. Cheers, everyone.

Every other day…

…I listen to great music, often from the 70s and 60s, (both 20th century and otherwise) and have never posted my opinion on said eras of music vs. current era.

Somebody give me a medal.

William Gibson

Pattern Recognition came in at work today. I didnt jump as I already have 5 different copies of it; that was until I found out this copy today was FUCKING AUTOGRAPHED BY MISTER GIBSON HIMSELF.

I screamed, and fought my co-worker for it before our boss took it.


Fright Night

Shit movie, I’m sure, but I just found out David Tennant is in it.

Now I have to watch it.

I’m not prone to boners while watching television

An episode of Louie’s newest season changed that, at about 4:30 this morning.

It was the one where he met that odd mother, who offered NSA sex. You know, THAT one?

Yeah. I should probably get therapy.

Misanthropy Orgasm

Or, misanthrogasm. However it helps you to remember.

Thats what Rise of the Planet of the Apes was. Some might argue the social commentary was boorish, but I found it to be a sledgehammer that worked differently than normal hammers. In that after it bludgeoned you with its message, it raped you with it, and laughed at you for still not getting it.

Seriously, I think I would have somehow more enjoyed the experience watching it with actual chimps, than with the asshat humans. The movie was fantastic, and I love the points it made over and over, but goddammit if humans—at least the fucks in my crowd—managed to actually get it. The entire movie pointed out how basically humans are stupid, and instead of proving the film wrong and watching it with quiet dignity, the audience only managed to reinforce the belief with bulldogged stupidity and such behaviour.

Oh, and it may not have been intended, but I LOOOOOOOOOOOVED the pro-science based sociological points and the anti-moralistic religious points. I dont think those points were intended, but I heard them loud and clear. Great, great, great.


Night Ranger’s coming to the Pavilion in October. But I’m set on Yaoi-con. Somebody give me more money so I can do more shit to distract me from life, yeah?


Two years ago, a giraffe passed away, as giraffes, and living things in general, often do. What made more than a handful of activists, and people not bogged down by the thought-conditioning images of capitalism take notice, was this giraffe was a childhood mascot; “Tweet” as his human handlers apparently called him, was the spokes-animal for Toys R Us for many years, and appeared in many films since. He had just finished his part in a new film when he collapsed in his enclosure, and passed away.

From what I have been able to find out, it was most likely age related, as he was 18 years old. Almost instantaneously, hatred is fired off in all directions regarding his death, with accusations of mistreatment the most readily available tool for attack. Doing my research on the passing of the giraffe, I found a distractingly high amount of hate for PETA by the commoners at large. People seemed to equate most articles relating the animals death directly to the human actors in the film. No one seemed to note that an animal, obviously inching towards death for the simple fact of his age, was still working at a job—A JOB—when he died.

No one should blame the lead actor in this film—and I should point out, I use that term generously—for anything other than horrendous acting choices, and ability. But what I have a problem with, was the fact that an animal well beyond retirement age, wasn’t retired.

I’m sure the argument will be made that ‘He enjoyed being in films’ up the wazoo, and maybe he did, I don’t know. I’m sure people making that argument don’t know either. But when it comes to animals being artificially inserted into an environment that has proven itself dangerous and stressful to HUMANS, I’m not sure how well any other sentient being can manage. Logic dictates that in order for an animal to concede to a lifestyle like this, it would either have to be conditioned via material reward (how very American), have its own will broken, or both.

Seems unfair to me. Makes me think about zoos, which before you even bother asking, yes, I am one of ‘those people’ against zoos. And circuses. Even though zoos CAN serve a pragmatic purpose, preserving endangered animals (note that those animals are often endangered because of human irresponsibility to begin with) I’m still against them. Fervently.

Ugh, I think I’m done with this. I’ll just end up ranting about the flaw of humanizing animals to the point where they talk, and dance, and promote products, and serve the purpose of reinforcing the conditioning our economic-driven society has done to us. The giraffe should have been retired. We don’t need to screw other species into our ass-backwards, trapped capitalist system of anti-life that we as pissant Americans have fucked ourselves into. And we shouldn’t.

I’m going to say something that, if I had readers, would no doubt ostricize me from them indefinitely. If you enjoy films of talking penguins living quasi-human lives, with post-modern sensibilities, then eat shit. If you enjoy talking donkeys that run around and sass sword-swinging cats with an affinity for ethnic-stereotyping, eat more shit. If you can’t enjoy watching from afar, an animal in its natural habitat, without coaxing it through various (often nefarious) means to ‘do something’, a’ la virtually every animal cinematographer in the past 40 years, then go fuck yourself. With a pineapple. Sideways.