You Really Call This Civilization?

Watch this little clip from Godzilla 2000 and notice the incredible acting skills, coming complete with a wonderful English dub. Such a dramatic scene, I almost feel bad laughing at it.

Try this link in case YouTube killed the video star.

No need for further comments, I guess. I'm watching all this kaiju eiga stuff again, Japanese trash movies that makes you feel like your brain has shrunk two sizes because of the plot, while the action scenes - with their rubber/plastic badassness - make your wiener become a whole inch longer.

In G2K I actually found the thing that's close to what I saw in my mind when I first thought about the term "microwave jellyfish". It's an entity called The Millennian, a squid-like creature from outer space, who after two minutes of screen time mutates itself into Godzilla's main foe, Orga. Here, have a look:

The first full CGI monster in the whole series. Gayest looking kaiju ever?

Naw, that would be Mothra actually, but since she's a female monster - a goddess, in fact - she doesn't really count. She's one of the most interesting characters, though, no matter how hard fans of reptilian badassness bash her. As a giant butterfly, full of love and motherly instincts instead of destructive periods, Mothra is so awesome at depicting what's nice, beautiful and lovely in this world, that some movie fans actually started to worship her as a real goddess. Check out Mothra's Shrine, a webpage dedicated to this plastic insect. It has a lot of good stuff, everything you need to know if you want to become a follower.

Here's Mothra's own Eleven Commandments for example, with girly letters, that makes everything seem so cool like... the cover of Fight Club:

1. Thou shalt rever (sic!) Mothra, as with the powers of the universe, and hold love in thy soul for all life.
2. Thou shalt rever (sic!) the Earth and life itself, and protect these to any means.
3. Thou shalt protect, and cooperate with, others of thy race to greater ends.
4. Thou shalt not harm or kill others who posess (sic!) life as thou dost.
5. Thou shalt trust in Mothra's love and power always, and hold trust and faith in thy fellows.
6. Thou shalt keep thy word when thou givest it, and treat others always with respect.
7. Thou shalt sing and chant in praise to Mothra and to worship life and love.
8. Thou shalt remember that Mothra will protect thee always.
9. Thou shalt give thyself and others a chance at rebirth and a chance to change for the good at all oppurtunities (sic!).
10. Thou shalt never insult or hold negative feelings toward others; thou shalt always remember love.
11. 11. Thou shalt not be ashamed to stand up for thy faith, and thou shalt not condemn others for their own faiths.

You know what? Deal. From now on, I'm an idolater, I guess. These commandments sound pretty good, although when I pray to Mothra, I won't use her theme song. Something more... Gojira-esque would fit me better.

Yes, my Dear Readers. These all are a just a few reasons why Japanese trash is so awesome.

Dreams and Dick's

One million dollar questions. Two of them.

1) Why don't we have someone who narrates our life?

In my dreams there's always one. When I'm running from policecars at night with my bike still missing those lights, somehow a voice tells me which crossroads should I be aware of, if there's a cop around there and if they've spotted me yet. Stuff that comes handy. I could use a narrator like that in real life.

1+) Speaking of dreams, why did Leo remind me of my cousin when I saw this Inception trailer?

He was the one who introduced me to Alien not long after I first saw JAWS. Grooming a real horror/creature flick fanboy nerd. He's a good man. Too bad we haven't met in years.

2) How come I've never heard about The Dickies before?

After a full year of living in the depressing industrial world with a few weak sunbeams coming from The Rip-Offspring (oh, come on guys, stealing from Foo Fighters? That's low.), I've finally found punk music again that won't make you emo, nor a jackass with his personality replaced with political ideas. For a whole day now I've been listening to Killer Klowns, the theme song for that b movie Killer Klowns from Outer Space (any questions?), and Banana Splits - I'm sure you've heard this one, it was used in Kick-Ass trailers and during Hit Girl's very first massacre scene. This music makes me happy, like some kind of drug injection through my earphones. F'ckin' awesome feeling.

You can listen to both songs on this MySpace page. Have fun, Dear Readers.

Now I'm going to watch Die Hard and think about my ex-girlfriend. No sexual pun intended, tra la la, tra la la la...

You Make Me Perfect

The absolute best movie ever, also known as Spielberg's JAWS is 35 years old today. In case you count movies' age from their opening date, of course. It's a shame we haven't got it on Blu-ray yet - come on, Universal, you gave us 25th and 30th Anniversary edition DVDs, now we need some HD here. Hurry. Up.

Anyways, I haven't posted anything in a full month now. Should I recap what happened in the meantime? First, as it turned out, the weirdest girl in this whole country has a crush on me. Good to know things like this. Knowing that someone likes you, it feels really good. The knowledge itself, no matter how screwed up that other person is. I guess this is why women who get beaten up all the time can't let their so-called soulmate go, even if he's (she's?) the world's biggest d-d-d-d-d-di... uh, penishead. Just think about Rose and Jerky Jim.

(No, the crusher isn't Miss Ruiner. When it comes to strange habits, this one bears with a bit more common weirdness, involving blades and wrists - yes, it's an old cliché. What interesting is, she's the one who always calls me a downer for some reason, and says I'm not thinking positive enough. Fancy that.)

Self-hurting feeds our self-esteem, right now this is what my oh-so-wise-one-sentence comment would be about modern relationships. Well, 90% of modern relationships, especially if we're talking about young and wild people, like me.

. . .

Good Ol' Life, Fate, God Or Whatever flows me towards policemen all the time. They caught me while I was riding my bike without lights on - it cost me 3000 HUF, big deal. It happened last week, just after Mykee told me he wants to be a cop, and it seems to be a nice career for myself, in case all else fails and Good Ol' Life, Fate, God Or Whatever crushes (oh, these crushers!) all my dreams. You gotta love that guy.

Now I'm about to drink some Coke with wine, and watch some B movies. This is going to be a fun... dawn, I guess. Hope you are all right, my dearest readers, and can enjoy the summer more than I do.

R.I.P. Max Payne

I effin' love Max Payne. He's the ultimate badass of the "realistic" part of video game world, a character built up by the most overused detective movie clichés, who operates not just with bullet shower from a wide range of guns, but also a handful of cynical one-liners you gotta love.

Never mind the the awfully mediocre Hollywood transition with Marky Mark - Max Payne 1 & 2 still remain the pioneers and remembered classics of the third person shooter/action genre. They have cheeky humour in contrast of the usually dark, moody storylines, adrenaline pumping action scenes, simple, but addictive and cool music tunes, and from a historical point of view, the very first gameplay usage of the so-called bullet time effect. I could list hundreds of other reasons, but right now I'm just going to ask your trust if you haven't tried these games. In a nutshell: Max Payne kicks ass.

Well said, kid.

Now, what can you do if you have a franchise this good? Yup, you have to ruin the whole thing. Max Payne 3 is coming soon, which would be awesome news for us, fans, but. Quoting from Wikipedia:

This is the first game in the series not to be developed by Finnish game developer Remedy Entertainment and not being written by series creator Sam Lake.

Say whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa'? Sam was the soul of the whole thing, even Max's appearance was designed after him in the first game. So how come not he's doing it? The game's release date was pushed back several times, and people are starting to realize that without the Finns, it may suck. Hard.

Now, the good news: last week Remedy's Alan Wake was released, a survival horror-TPS game, also written by Sam. Thanks to TFYM I had the pleasure to play with it, and I gotta tell you, it's friggin' awesome. Like a twisted Stephen King book, set on the location of Twin Peaks. I'm encouraging all my readers to check it out, and I won't spoil much of it, except for one certain thing. During the gameplay chapters you'll find manuscripts for a novel, and there's two pages written about - you guessed it - Max Payne, read by James McCaffrey, the guy who did Max's voice in the first two games. You can hear them in the first minutes of this video:

Yes, seems like Max's brain is spilled out on snow, and he's ready to join his dead family, finally. I have a feeling this is how Sam gives his opinion about the third game. Don't worry fans, it doesn't matter - Max is dead, actually, dead for good. And, coming from the series' creator/writer, I'd list this as canon, no matter how Payne3 will end up after all.

Well, goodbye, Max. Your suicide didn't disappoint us, it fits you. I hope you find your loved ones, and peace, eventually.

:(

All I Wanted Was a Pepsi!

So I'm twenty years old today. Do you know what that means? Do you? Do you?

Yes, it means I'm no longer a teenager. I have to change my signature on a forum, these lines:

98% of teens would be dead if Twilight said breathing wasn't cool. Post this if you are a part of the 2% laughing.

I'm no longer part of that 2%. I'm no longer a teen. And if I'm feeling low, mad, angry at the world, it's not justified because I'm adolescent. Oh gawd, how I miss doing rants like this already:

Time to grow up, eh?

Boobs and Blood

Have you seen the new trailer for Alex Aja's Piranha 3-D? You really should check it out:

That Ripley-ish face when one of the CGI fish screams (!) at the girl, whoa - I think I'm in love with Jessica Szohr. Seriously.

The film is basically a remake of the original 1978 Piranha, the JAWS-parody by Joe Dante. Unlike its sequel, The Spawning/Flying Killers (James Cameron's first movie) and the 1995 TV remake by Roger Corman, this new version won't avoid humour, which is a good thing. People who already trash it, they just don't get the joke, I think.

This is tongue in cheek, a b movie, the kind that doesn't even tries to look anything other than that. Dumb, silly fun with naked chicks, bloodbath, roaring cartoon fish, and A-list actors saying and doing cheesy things. Notice how Christopher Lloyd uses his Doc Brown-voice to emphasize the line "THIS particular piranha VANISHED two million YEARS ago...", while Richard Dreyfuss is dressed as the character he played 35 years ago in JAWS. Should I mention that allegedly there's a nearly 30 minutes long massacre scene? Throw any objective POV out of the window, I already friggin' love this movie.

Someday I will say something clever about the real life "it's funny when horrible things happen" scenarios. Now I'm just hyping my most anticipated movie of the year. Spring break is gone, but summer's almost here. Stay out of the water, kids.

Second thought, don't do it. Stay in water, kids. I wanna see sexy teenage girls getting torn apart, and I wanna see it now!

PS: Yesterday I made an account on of the most useless community sites, you can check out what's up with me there.

Smashed Up Integrity

Let me tell you about someone I've met recently, a person I'm going to refer to as Ruiner Rose. She's your average 23 year old girl, living in the shadow of her boyfriend, Jerky Jim, and in the constant admiring gaze of Random Randy. Rose is one of those young adults who like to show their sadness and lack of satisfaction with their lives via doing pretty extreme things.

(A bracketed passage to all the depressed people in the world: cutting yourself isn't extreme by any means. It's a cliché.)

I've met Rose last weekend when I was having a drink with a few pals of mine in a pub. Parting apart from her company, suddenly she comes to our table and asks if we wanted to play a match of table football with her. Sure, we answer and introduce ourselves. Before the game starts she tells us how much she likes the sound of breaking glass. "It's the best sound ever." After the match she demonstrates how serious she was about this: she drinks her beer and smashes the glass to the table. Again. And again. And one more time.

It was nice meeting you, weirdo, we think and sit back to our table. But still keeping an eye on Rose. She doesn't go back to her friends' table to their epic card game play. Instead she does what The Fuck You Man likes to call angsting. She just sits near the football table with her head bent down, her fingers caressing the remains of the glass. After a while she gets her coat, says goodbye and leaves.

Ten seconds of thinking, then I get up, say "I'll be back in ten minutes" and go after her. At the pub entrance I meet with Random Randy, your typical nice boy (imagine a strange hybrid of Daniel Craig and Kåre Hedebrant with an attitude that's kinda pathetic even when you compare it to my natural shyness). I ask him if he saw a girl around here, and where did she go. He shows me the direction and within a minute I reach Rose.

First thing, I assure her that I'm not hitting on her, but like, I really-really want to talk if she has the time. She isn't in a hurry, so we start to talk, when Randy shows up with the lamest "can I put my hand in your panties?"-type smile, says hello, and asks if he bothers us. "Just a little bit", I say. "Yeah, you really do", replies Rose, so Randy says sorry and walks back to the pub. I really feel sorry for him. You can't blame someone if he wanted to have Rose's company. The girl has nice looks, I have to admit, and it's hardly fair that I totally occupied her. But whatever, this is life. Cut to the chase.

A few minutes later me and Rose are sitting on the side of the curb, and she tells me everything. An awful lot of things, actually, but here's the point: she wants more from her life. More than sitting in pubs and playing card games. It's not her type of stuff, her buddies bore her. Also, she can't get out from her three year old on/off relationship with a guy who's good company but can't really understand her. She wants more than school, work and hanging out like this. The only really good things in her life are a few really close good friends who accept her that way. Unconditional love and all that stuff.

But she isn't satisfied. Anxiety, depression, social fears, and all the things you should leave behind with your teenage years are all around her neck, and the only thing that helps her feeling better is the glass breaking. The sound gives her a jolt, and the thought of destroying something is somehow uplifting for Rose. That reminds me of Fight Club, I say, and she agrees. Yes, she saw it and thought it's a classic that needs to be seen by everyone. At that moment when she says this, I feel a strange bond with Rose. For a young woman she's really like a cool and intelligent guy, dealing with most of the problems and pessimistic thoughts as I do. I'd love to have her as a sister. And damn, you can imagine how much I wanted to make her feel better. To help her. At any cost.

Now, wall-of-text-haters, here comes the interesting part. Twenty-few minutes passes when the boyfriend, Jerky Jim calls her. Turns out he's down there with the other friends at the table, but for now he's a bit concerned about where has his girlfriend gone. He really wants to meet her, so Rose tells him we're out there. The guy shows up, sits besides us, starts the caressing-hugging-howareyou-prettyone ritual with her girlfriend, and says to me "Go on, just keep talking, I love chatting, too" with the famous "Get away from my chick, go fuck your mother" look on his face.

Not the best feeling when a this kind of guy's girl pays more attention to you, says "You know, you don't understand me at all" to him and finally hugs you as saying goodbye. Whatever, the next few minutes were interesting. I gave away a few encouraging words to Rose, and some advices about life that she could fallow if she wants to. Jim was laughing at us in a poor over-the-top theatrical way, saying that Rose doesn't have any problems at all, and we are both way too young to know anything about life. He's at a university, and if I ever get there, I'll know more. With my 19 years I'm just a kid, pretending to know something. It's good that I'm thinking about rights and wrongs but that doesn't mean I have the answers. "I haven't stated that." This particular statement, he completely ignored of course. Otherwise, it was nice meeting him, too.

Alright now, here's a few nice things, simple manners in the case you want a relationship that won't ends up as a total waste. You know how it goes, I'm not offering anything more than my opinion. Advices that you can take, if you want to:

• First, if your girlfriend has any kind of problem, you don't ignore it. You can love it, you can make her do something about it (even if this leads to fights, think about the greater good), or just simply live with it, but do not pretend it doesn't exist. You know you lie. Your girl knows it. Not healthy to your mind/soul, the relationship and your circle of friends.
  
  
• That circle. If it's having a good time in a public place, and she is among your friends, you don't pretend like she wasn't there. Especially when her body language shouts "Hi there, I'm just about to snap, burst into tears and cut my wrists with shattered glass. And how are you doing?"
  
  
• If she does feel awkward, you ask her what's the matter, talk to and cheer her up, even pay for the glasses she broke (that's optional, of course. Rose said they were quite cheap, by the way :-]).
  

Simple things. If you like someone you should treat her/him this way. Even if she's just a kid who doesn't know anything about herself or the world. Or if she's a crazed psycho. That's a fact you definitely shouldn't ignore, though.

Whatever. I wish the best to Rose and good luck for Jerky Jim with keeping his girlfriend. At least there's two people on Earth who understand her more than he ever could.

Maybe even Randy would be better at that. Aw, that poor guy.

Dino Porn

Sometimes I try to write movie scripts when I'm drunk. Really weird, but somehow cool ideas come this way all the time. I've just made a teaser poster for the latest one, don't be shy, click on it:

Here's a link for the uncensored version - kids stay away, I mean it.

Yes, I'm thinking about making a dinosaur porn. Not a very original idea, but listen: It would be a hardcore sci-fi romance, set on Earth in the year 2293. It's a typical cyberpunk future with all the great skyscrapers, flying cars, underground gangs and walls of computers that look like they were made in the 1960s. But besides all this, mankind has finally cloned dinosaurs - mutant ones, who are really intelligent, capable of thinking, speaking like a human, and feeling real emotions, including love and lust.

Our main characters would be two cops/detectives (investigating sexual crimes of course), a young girl called Miki (it's a Japanese women's name, as a little tribute to the Heisei era of the Godzilla films, that's all the significance it has), who happens to end up as the roommate of her colleague, Gabriel (now I'm not sure why I chose this name - but I think it has a nice chemistry with Miki), an eight foot tall, genetically engineered, violent Deinonychus. Of course, as an inside joke, everyone would call him a Raptor, because of the infamous Jurassic-screw up with the species classification, first by Michael Crichton (RIP), later by the creators of the film, who modelled the raptors with Deinonychus scale. (Stan Winston was a real talent nevertheless, sad R, I and P letters for him too.)

Anyways, these two would end up together as the first human-dinosaur couple. Reptile and primate. Interspecies stuff, yes, but don't forget, I'm not talking about zoophilia. It's something futuristic, entirely fictional. And cool. A bit like the old dragon and virgin princess scenario, set in the future, with a surprising twist.

Oh, yeah, Miki should definitely be an Asian girl. I think they are the cutest specimens of the Homo sapiens, and would make an aesthetic contrast with those huge carnivores. Seriously, this stuff could be the new Twilight. Only that it would be really provocative, funny, interesting, and could easily earn a cult status. The Fifth Element on crack, or something like that.

Now I just have to write the script and find a producer who's crazy enough. Wish me luck, while you are calling me a pathetic zoophile nerd who should get a life. (I won't deny that last statement.) Hollywood, I'm coming.

Roar.

I Am Jack's Raging Bile Duct

Man, I'm ill. Was in bed all day long and still feel sick like [insert a non-clichéd word here]. I had to pass the opportunity to have a drink with two lady friends of mine today, because I couldn't even walk to the store right behind our house, not to mention the pub where I was invited. Life has a bad sense of humour, so I'm going to use good satire as a shield against it. Here's a quote from Chuck Palahniuk's Fight Club. You know, just to post something here that's actually worth reading:

I've met God across his long walnut desk with his diplomas hanging on the wall behind him, and God asks me, "Why?"

Why did I cause so much pain? Didn't I realize that each of us is a sacred, unique snowflake of special unique specialness? Can't I see how we're all manifestations of love?

I look at God behind his desk, taking notes on a pad, but God's got this all wrong.

We are not special.

We are not crap or trash, either.

We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens.

And God says, "No, that's not right."

Yeah. Well. Whatever. You can't teach God anything.

Good book. Great movie.

Take care, my friend.

Weapon of Choice

Yay, hurray, it's election day! Should I explain what this means? Time has come to make a stand, choosing sides and deciding about the future of our beloved country. Again.

You know, for the last eight years we had the carnation-guys leading us, the party that constantly screws up things big time, in a lot of different ways - they were forced to change their prime minister two times during this eight years for this reason. (God, I want to live long enough to see the 'Őszöd Speech getting published in our history books, just for the joke of it.) With all respect to my left-handed friends, if Hungary gives a third chance to these guys, I'm going to laugh half a day long and try to kill myself with Diet Coke overdose.

Best way to die. Period.

Well, besides the carnation fraction, we can choose the orange-guys, heroes of our parents and probably the favorites of Alex DeLarge as well. Gosh, I love them. Mentioning the name of this party always reminds me the good old mid-'90s when I was a kid and life was pretty simple. Yes, they own the Granny-sympathy factor and could use nostalgia as weapon, but that's not enough. And come on, what did they exactly said to me in their public announcements besides how big of a junkyard "Fucking Country" Feri has collected in the last few years?

Few years and a few more. Eight, man. Eight years ago on election day I was listening to Conspiracy of One, the worst Offspring album so far. But I still loved it, and still love it nevertheless. Living in Chaos is my ring tone right now. Eight years have passed.

But whatever, here comes the best part: the national-radical guys. Wild teenagers dressed in leather and Hungarian flags love them, the rest usually burst into laughs or tears of fear whenever their name is spoken. They promise great things, if half of them was going to be accomplished, our land would become a better place already. But there's an awful truth about this world, a cliché that even I don't mind to quote: What seems too good to be true is usually not true. Sorry, guys. I don't have faith in you.

I don't think I'll take a step out of this house today. Right now I'm going to watch Christopher Walken dancing, then the latest Doctor Who episode, and finally, I'm going to take a nap right before they announce the so-called winners. Cowardly life, without any responsibility. It's always fun to wake up in a new world.