I like my job. My job doesn't like me.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Friday, January 25, 2013
Fish Walk Among Us*
Wanna hear about something crazier, more badass, and also a lot cheesier than TMNT, Street Sharks, Extreme Dinosaurs and the whole Transformers family combined? How about a bunch of sperm whales in robotic exo-suites, walking on land, flying in the air, and fighting alien invaders in outer space?
Mechawhales, I repeat it, Mecha-f*cking-whales is the name of this franchise, created by Hauke Scheer - his designs can be seen on DeviantArt, the backstory of the whales can be read on this site - you can also watch two animated short films about it -, and here I'm going to show you the latest character incarnation, the limited 3.5" Infantry Whale PVC figure, chicky-cheeky-check i' out:
Writing that I wish I could be 5 years old now would be true to some degree, but that fact is, the sight of this magnificent cetacean made me feel like a kid again for hours. Alas, it's been a long time since I could afford to spend 50 bucks on an action figure, but a man-child can dream and it would certainly be sweet to own one of these one day. For now, I wish the very best for Mr. Scheer and his vision, hopefully it becomes a cult hit, and one day we can see a live-action movie adaptation, either with or without the involvement of Michael Bay.
... and if you are wondering, what would happen if a fifty ton sperm whale (alright, I know you could hardly hold it back the first time; let's hear a huge giggity) walked ashore on mechanical legs, look no further than Junji Ito's horror manga, Gyo. It's a tale of bio-mech terror, foul body gas and disgusting sea life, both creepy and (mostly because of the translation) funny at the same time, highly recommended stuff.
*Yup, I do know that whales are mammals, and not fish. The title is merely a reference to Christopher Lloyd's book from that half-assed Piranha sequel, which was a reference itself to a scene in Joe Dante's original Piranha, that was referencing the Creature from the Black Lagoon series, which was referenced in the third Back to the Future movie. I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but hey, that too had Christopher Lloyd...
Mechawhales, I repeat it, Mecha-f*cking-whales is the name of this franchise, created by Hauke Scheer - his designs can be seen on DeviantArt, the backstory of the whales can be read on this site - you can also watch two animated short films about it -, and here I'm going to show you the latest character incarnation, the limited 3.5" Infantry Whale PVC figure, chicky-cheeky-check i' out:
Would pass as the secret love child of Dennis Nedry and that Dilophosaurus
Writing that I wish I could be 5 years old now would be true to some degree, but that fact is, the sight of this magnificent cetacean made me feel like a kid again for hours. Alas, it's been a long time since I could afford to spend 50 bucks on an action figure, but a man-child can dream and it would certainly be sweet to own one of these one day. For now, I wish the very best for Mr. Scheer and his vision, hopefully it becomes a cult hit, and one day we can see a live-action movie adaptation, either with or without the involvement of Michael Bay.
... and if you are wondering, what would happen if a fifty ton sperm whale (alright, I know you could hardly hold it back the first time; let's hear a huge giggity) walked ashore on mechanical legs, look no further than Junji Ito's horror manga, Gyo. It's a tale of bio-mech terror, foul body gas and disgusting sea life, both creepy and (mostly because of the translation) funny at the same time, highly recommended stuff.
Yes, you are supposed to read that from right to left
*Yup, I do know that whales are mammals, and not fish. The title is merely a reference to Christopher Lloyd's book from that half-assed Piranha sequel, which was a reference itself to a scene in Joe Dante's original Piranha, that was referencing the Creature from the Black Lagoon series, which was referenced in the third Back to the Future movie. I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but hey, that too had Christopher Lloyd...
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
cuz bean a grammer natsy ease kewl
Szóval az ünnepeket nagybetűvel írod, a filmcímekben viszont a legelső karaktert leszámítva minden apró, tulajdonnevek beleértve, és ilyen formában online híroldalra publikálsz, fizetés ellenében, mialatt yours truly Kevin Wasserman karrierjének legelejét tapossa, half-time-ban, minimálért.
Aham. Egy amp kellene, két futóbolond, meg egy doboz sör, és máris igazságosabbnak tűnne az élet.
(És bár elhiszem, hogy a jó öreg TLJ kiejtésével a "been extinct"-et félre lehet hallani "the best thing"-re, a legtenyérbemászóbb modorossággal csak meg kell kérdeznem: ugye kontextusról és logikáról tetszettek már hallani? De semmi vész, Tótisz is elvan, mint csarnok a vízben.)
Réjdzs.
Aham. Egy amp kellene, két futóbolond, meg egy doboz sör, és máris igazságosabbnak tűnne az élet.
(És bár elhiszem, hogy a jó öreg TLJ kiejtésével a "been extinct"-et félre lehet hallani "the best thing"-re, a legtenyérbemászóbb modorossággal csak meg kell kérdeznem: ugye kontextusról és logikáról tetszettek már hallani? De semmi vész, Tótisz is elvan, mint csarnok a vízben.)
Réjdzs.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Music You Will Never Own: JJ&E Xtend[r]ed[d]
Last year's Dredd was such a disastrous undeserved box office flop, I have to buy a full-price BD copy. As a nerd who knows his duty, I'd advise every living soul on the planet to do the same, first, because it could redeem itself as a home video hit the same way Batman Begins did, and second, because it's a cool movie.
Think of a gritty, down to earth 2000 AD story, put it inThe Raid's Die Hard's one place settings with the toned down, it's-almost-like-today futurism of the X-men movies for budgetary reasons, add a few glimpses of gimmicky 3D to the mix and you've got a nice little action flick with Karl Urban being cooler than anyone in the current cobwebbed Expendables cast. And although I hated Lena Headey as Sarah Connor, judging from this movie, she could easily take on the role of Ellen Ripley, but now I'm really drifting into theoretical off-topic waters here.
It's a shame that Paul Leonard-Morgan's score was mixed so low in most of the scenes, the same way Piranha killed its soundtrack in 2010: I was having a ball listening to the OST album for half a year before I finally got to see the movie (don't judge me for this: I lived in two countries during the last six months, and Dredd wasn't released in neither of them during my stay), and hardly hearing anything from the music I've loved so much was kind of a letdown. It's hard-hitting, kick-ass "John Carpenter meets pre-2000 style NIN" electro-industrial stuff, cool, violent, but melodic, with the just the right amount of tongue-in-cheek attitude, and best of all, it's repetitive as hell, which makes it awesome for workouts.
My favorite track is the almost feelgood "Judge, Jury and Executioner," originally about 2 minutes in length, but here you can listen to a looped to death 5:33 version. (vimeo mirror)
You can also take it with you by clicking here (MP3, 320kbps, 12,6 MB). Do some push-ups or cardio work while playing it, you'll feel like one badass mofo.
Think of a gritty, down to earth 2000 AD story, put it in
It's a shame that Paul Leonard-Morgan's score was mixed so low in most of the scenes, the same way Piranha killed its soundtrack in 2010: I was having a ball listening to the OST album for half a year before I finally got to see the movie (don't judge me for this: I lived in two countries during the last six months, and Dredd wasn't released in neither of them during my stay), and hardly hearing anything from the music I've loved so much was kind of a letdown. It's hard-hitting, kick-ass "John Carpenter meets pre-2000 style NIN" electro-industrial stuff, cool, violent, but melodic, with the just the right amount of tongue-in-cheek attitude, and best of all, it's repetitive as hell, which makes it awesome for workouts.
My favorite track is the almost feelgood "Judge, Jury and Executioner," originally about 2 minutes in length, but here you can listen to a looped to death 5:33 version. (vimeo mirror)
You can also take it with you by clicking here (MP3, 320kbps, 12,6 MB). Do some push-ups or cardio work while playing it, you'll feel like one badass mofo.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Joys and Fears, Forgotten Years
It's early December in 2009, and Chris is walking across Manchester Piccadilly, occupied with puzzling, although not too interesting thoughts. He doesn't notice the Red Cross girl until she's right in front of him, saying or asking something with with a huge grin.
"Sorry?" Chris stops and pulls out his earphones. The music is gone, but the heart of a city like this will always remain a noisy place.
"Why the long face? Come on, where's your Christmas Spirit?" the girl repeats herself, and the words feel what they exactly are: a smart business move. A friendly chatter with this cute little blonde in the middle of a cold grim winter day, and all you have to give is some blood or money in return. And since it's Red Cross and/or Cancer Research UK, you won't feel like a pathetic sob either.
Charity, not mental prostitution. Who could refuse a deal like that?
Soon enough, she is asking about his age. Chris knows it's hard to tell by appearance: he's not a kid now, but he couldn't really be called an adult either. By now he can't help smiling a little, mostly because of the sight of numerous rings all around the girl's lips, and even more of them inside her mouth. Has he finally met his first real-life British punk? A lovely disappointment.
No, he's not twenty-one yet, so they won't have any use of him. And they have a little language barrier here, he explains, so she asks where did he come from, and how's the UK treating him. Chris thinks back of the last few days, the people and events that left the biggest impression on him. Finally, he simply asks if he could hug the girl.
She doesn't refuse, it happens, and they probably both get a little creeped out, but after they say goodbye and part away, Chris can't help to feel a little better about his life. Little accidents like this, outbursts of almost nonexistent, but incredibly powerful manifestations of compassion and empathy can make you believe in angels. Even if they are only angels for their part-time jobs.
It's early January in 2013, and Chris is walking across Manchester Piccadilly, occupied with puzzling, although not too interesting thoughts. He's in a hurry today, so he tries to avoid eye contact with any of the Red Cross girls out there. A futile attempt.
"Now there's a smile!," cries out one of them, but it's not a sequel, remake or any kind of intentional reference to some 2009 events. She doesn't look like that girl, and Chris probably doesn't look like a kid anymore either, because her first question goes like this: "A little chatter, sir?"
Sorry, I'm kind of busy, is what Chris wants to say as he rushes past her, but the sudden realization freezes his tongue. Did she really mean he was smiling? Does he look happy? Is he even able to look happy?
Once again Chris thinks back of the last few days, the people and events that left the biggest impression on him. He celebrated new year's eve at a friend's place, they were drinking, watching movies, playing games and talking about everything and nothing at the same time. It was like any lazy summer week from their past lives.
He thinks about the many missed opportunities to just hang out like that with people he knows back at home; and he feels the stinging uncertainty pf not knowing when he will be able to do it again with anyone, anywhere. After a few minutes of walking, he decides to blog about something. And he already knows that as a gentle, but clear note to self, the final lines will go like this:
Let it go, man. You can't get back to how and was before. Stop whining, and try to make a future worthy of your past.
"Sorry?" Chris stops and pulls out his earphones. The music is gone, but the heart of a city like this will always remain a noisy place.
"Why the long face? Come on, where's your Christmas Spirit?" the girl repeats herself, and the words feel what they exactly are: a smart business move. A friendly chatter with this cute little blonde in the middle of a cold grim winter day, and all you have to give is some blood or money in return. And since it's Red Cross and/or Cancer Research UK, you won't feel like a pathetic sob either.
Charity, not mental prostitution. Who could refuse a deal like that?
Soon enough, she is asking about his age. Chris knows it's hard to tell by appearance: he's not a kid now, but he couldn't really be called an adult either. By now he can't help smiling a little, mostly because of the sight of numerous rings all around the girl's lips, and even more of them inside her mouth. Has he finally met his first real-life British punk? A lovely disappointment.
No, he's not twenty-one yet, so they won't have any use of him. And they have a little language barrier here, he explains, so she asks where did he come from, and how's the UK treating him. Chris thinks back of the last few days, the people and events that left the biggest impression on him. Finally, he simply asks if he could hug the girl.
She doesn't refuse, it happens, and they probably both get a little creeped out, but after they say goodbye and part away, Chris can't help to feel a little better about his life. Little accidents like this, outbursts of almost nonexistent, but incredibly powerful manifestations of compassion and empathy can make you believe in angels. Even if they are only angels for their part-time jobs.
* * *
It's early January in 2013, and Chris is walking across Manchester Piccadilly, occupied with puzzling, although not too interesting thoughts. He's in a hurry today, so he tries to avoid eye contact with any of the Red Cross girls out there. A futile attempt.
"Now there's a smile!," cries out one of them, but it's not a sequel, remake or any kind of intentional reference to some 2009 events. She doesn't look like that girl, and Chris probably doesn't look like a kid anymore either, because her first question goes like this: "A little chatter, sir?"
Sorry, I'm kind of busy, is what Chris wants to say as he rushes past her, but the sudden realization freezes his tongue. Did she really mean he was smiling? Does he look happy? Is he even able to look happy?
Once again Chris thinks back of the last few days, the people and events that left the biggest impression on him. He celebrated new year's eve at a friend's place, they were drinking, watching movies, playing games and talking about everything and nothing at the same time. It was like any lazy summer week from their past lives.
He thinks about the many missed opportunities to just hang out like that with people he knows back at home; and he feels the stinging uncertainty pf not knowing when he will be able to do it again with anyone, anywhere. After a few minutes of walking, he decides to blog about something. And he already knows that as a gentle, but clear note to self, the final lines will go like this:
Let it go, man. You can't get back to how and was before. Stop whining, and try to make a future worthy of your past.
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