... And Very Nice

A 'fluxuson olvastam, hogy az IMP-s poszterkollektorok 2011 egyik legjobbjának választották a franchise-hűen terebélyes című Rise of the Planet of the Apes szlogenjét (na nem az otthoni kiadás borítóján szereplő egyszavasat), mely szerint Evolution becomes revolution.

Jópofa szöveg, és ha monkey businessről meg pofákról van szó, elkerülhetetlenül eszembe ötlik Travis és Charla Nash esete A pszichopata csimpánzra, s egy életre helyben hagyott áldozata gondolok, tavaly írtam róluk, és teljesen őszintén mondom, blogposzt legyártása közben azóta sem kerülgetett olyan pocsék érzés, mint akkor.

No, de mi újság Nash asszonnyal mostanában, ha már Cézáréknak hála felemlegettük őt? Jó híreket mesél a háló: egy 2011-es operáció során új, végleges arcot kapott. Immár képes szeretteit átölelni, csókokat osztogatni és a négy lenullázott érzékszervből is használni tud már kettőt. Dramatikus klisémérő kiakasztva, de ezek bizony apró lépések egy teljes élet felé.

Apu elismerő sóhaja vagyok.

Source: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-14494556

SzOPAcs

So someone watches a pirated DVD on a Sony player - do they ban Sony from selling DVD players?

Thought not.

"Ironrash" - http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/technology-16642369

Government launches the four-lettered idea, people say no. Three letters will do fine, Ol' Gov. realizes, enter the Eph Bee Eye.

Megaupload is dead, hotfile is a coward, and the folks at Anonymous are having a ball trolling on the bureau's website. From our POV, this is a good comedy. As long as torrenting is available, there's no real risk of a worldwide change.

Well, to be fair, torrents aren't an option for me. The library, which provides my access to the Internet, takes his filtering and censoring business quite seriously. No warez sites, no torrent, no porn or pages with edgy content, like bloody-disgusting.com (after all, "bloody" is a strong swearword around here, right?) Unfortunately, all the online proxies I've found are ruled out, too.

Still, these British guys constantly give me suspicious looks, every time I show up with an mp4 player or a USB cable around my neck. That paradoxical "chilled Heat"-gaze of Robert De Niro is what I think about while staring back at them.

You. Can. Not. Bother. Me.

Almost Got A Story To Tell You

Hiszed vagy sem, úgy egy évvel ezelőtt komoly esély volt rá, hogy munka végett a Costa Concordia fedélzetén kötök majd ki.

Elképzelés szintjén rendre előmászik a fontolói rivaldafénybe nálam valami luxushajós meló - bárhogy is alakuljanak a dolgaim, mindenképpen szeretnék még ifjonci erővel végigrabszolgálni legalább egy féléves utat, ezt amolyan jellemformáló életcélnak is tekinthetjük -, tavaly pedig már készültem is felvenni a kapcsolatot a család egy ismerősével, aki hasonló célból pont ezt a pórul járt krúztutajt szemelte ki magának. A médiacirkuszt látva vajon áldja a sorsot, hogy végül szárazföldre kötő állásánál maradt? Ugyanannál, amelyért alázatot nem ismerő narrátorotok is a brithonban ("száraz"-föld, háthogyne) tengeti idejét mostanság?

Furcsán működnek a dolgok. Az ember azt hinné, a semmi közepén, több millió öles mélység felett éri majd valami agyzsibbasztóan tragikus katasztrófa, vagy legalább egy jégmezőben, a'la Titanic, the 100th anniversary edition. De hogy egy part menti homokzátony vágjon így oda egy luxusóriásnak... ejj. Good Ol' Life, Fate, God or tudod hogy van, imád harsány iróniával operálni.

~ Szerk, 1/21/12:

Bááh, priceless:

Post Zero

"Hullo, Manchester."

"Hullo, Chris Lydecker."

"How are you then, Manchester?"

"All right. Full of people. Raining. You?"

"Ahh. Not bad. 'cept for the back of my heels, getting sawed into bloody pieces by my precious new boots. I think I'll go get me a Pepsi at Home Bargains soon."

"Good idea, Chris."

"Thank you, Manchester. Good thing, they're cheap as shlock cinema."

~ inspired by
Mr. Neil Gaiman

Most pedig közel egy év üresen, csendben tátongó blogszpészt követően ideje rendszerteremtést megelőzvén hagyományokat törni, Ruiner Rose lendületével. Egy gyors posztimport és mély lélegzetvétel. Anyanyelven szólok eddig nem anyanyelven írt blogomba, méghozzá nem anyanyelvi környezetből.

A mindenható erő, melyet itt fantáziátlanul csak Good Ol' Life, Fate, God Or Whateverként emlegetnek a bejegyzések, szóval ez a kiszámíthatatlan kliséforrás rutinszerűen biztosítja, hogy halandó szerénységünk művészi indulatai a legalkalmatlanabb időszakokban törjenek fel. Alkotnál, de éppen apokaliptikus tintaválság van, vérszomjas médiatörvények emelnek falakat előtted, esetleg ne adj GOLFGOW, a végtagjaid váltak használhatatlanná - utóbbihoz képest az állandó internet-hozzáférés hiánya nem tűnik komoly dolognak egy blogger számára sem.

Rendelkezésemre áll: heti pár óra valamelyik brit város számítógépeire kattanva, egy offline, ám magyarul is igen patent billentyűzet, valamint jó pár izgalmas, unalmas, édes, borzalmas, ám valamilyen szinten szórakoztató gondolat. Netrehányásra várva. Hiányzott már.

Tl;dr Microwave Jellyfish'd ENG version: in this very place, the Great Mindstingers' legacy shall live on, lovingly ripping off his favorite band's maiden name - and the posts got bilingual!

We Are One

Last week I've met a guy, not much older than me, who has lung cancer. When the news turned out, two things have been decided by him: he doesn't want to know how much time does he have and he wants to die in deluded closeness to happiness. He didn't go back to the doctors for an outspoken date, and he started partying heavily, grabbing all the joys (artificial, liquid or any other type) that he can find.

Damn, I use this "he" word a lot. But I don't want to give him any stupid alliterative nicknames.

Anyways, lung cancer is the very same disease that took my granddad away about a month earlier. Thanks to Herr Alzheimer, he didn't have a choice: death found him strapped into a bed, with 24/7 surveillance. That's the cruelest form of bad luck.

If anything similar happens to me, twisting out some famous "last words" from David Tennant: I don't want to go without putting a mark here and there, creating something worthy to left behind. Pulling a Burgess is the road I'll take.

If I will have the chance.

Face Me Again

"Time passes. Horror does not."
Alan Dean Foster

It's been a year and two (three?) days since my little blog was born. Totally forgot about the anniversary. Anyways, I filled my life again thanks to some minor changes. This is how it looked last year and here's myself right now:

Also, I've seen Paranormal Activity 2. Instead of writing another What Happens When You Sleep?, I've judged it five seconds movie style:

If you'll ever watch the whole thing combined with a drinking game, make sure to take a little sip every time that pool is on screen at night. By the end, you'll be screaming.

With laughter.

Even Deeper

Leo and Nolan were wrong; dreams do feel strange while we're in them, although in REM state we are far less skeptic, more willing to accept and embrace any kind of wonders we came across. And of course your subconscious always recreates from memory, with a bit of alteration. And remembering the true nature of those memories - Just how damaged have I become - could be the most painful thing to one's mind. Probably.

The so-called Operator Symbol is the thing that scrawl in my last post was supposed to be. This is the sign that appears around Slender Man sightings in Marble Hornets. Mammon's (Satan's son) sign looks almost identical to this in the Hellblazer Keanu Reeves movie Constantine. Interesting, I'd say.
Anyways, we created a Slender Man blog, the first Hungarian one of its kind, with surprisingly positive feedback, and I'm also working on a "dedicated-to-animal-attack-and-creature-features" one. Looks like my creativity has returned after all. Maybe this mind stinger will see some more life soon. For now, here's some music.

Childreeeen

Goddamn, some bad feelings are all over me. Anyone seen that guy lately?

This Post Contains Stuff

This is 57-year-old Charla Nash after being discharged from the hospital. The thing that did this to her was a famous animal actor, a chimpanzee called Travis, familiar from Coke commercials and such. He was owned by Nash's friend, Sandra Herold. On February 6, 2009 Travis, the usually friendly and intelligent, beloved house pet went berserk during Nash's visit, and attacked her. This is the recording of the 911 call Mrs. Herold made while the 14 years old, 91 kg. chimp was tearing his victim apart:

Losing her eyes, ears, nose, lips (Travis literally chewed her face to pieces) and both hands, Charla did survive the attack, and after seven hours of active surgery, the doctors were able to stabilize her condition. A few months later she had an experimental face implant surgery.

Not long after his rampage has begun, Travis was shot down by policemen. After autopsy and testing for rabies, his remains were cremated at All Pets Crematory in Stamford. His owner, Mrs. Herold has died in May 2010.

You know my blog, you know me. Countless times I've found myself sitting in front of a shitty creature feature, eco-horror or monster movie and laughing like an idiot at these kinds of things. But this real-life "incident" I've learned about only a few days ago, it was quite shocking to me. If Good Ol' Life, Fate, God Or Whatever did this to one of my friends, the people I like, that would be... well, let's say that I don't like to think about the possibility. At all. Don't be shy to appreciate your physical health, Dear Readers.

The mind-stinging thing is, regardless of the causes and who was responsible, there was nothing overly unnatural about this freak accident. This is how life and death works. Humans and chimpanzees are over 94% genetically identical. We share a lot of their genes, so I guess it's not too surprising that they are the only creatures with behavior that can match our skilled viciousness and precise, may I say highly sophisticated killing techniques in the whole world.

A fucked up world, that is.

This Isn't a Cry for Help

I'm lying on my room's floor, listening to Colin Newman. There's my laptop in front of me along with a can of beer, leftover from last Friday's movie night - guess what, I've finally get the chance to see Jerry O'Connell's penis being eaten on the big screen, with all the glory of that three D letters. Smiling at the memories I take a sip through the straw. Some would say this shit tastes like pure pain itself.

Pain is nothing to be afraid of. All it takes is some will and strength. You can kill it away.

There's a fact that's comforting and terrifying at the same time: there are things in this world that are very much unlike pain. Take this as you wish, but remember it, just for the joke of it, 'kay?