Dear Quentin,

please stop using the Wilhelm scream.

Seriously.

Nowadays it's a widely known, overused, clichéd, tired tradition.

Yes, we get it, you know movies and movie history. You can stop reminding us now.

Soon I'll write something worth reading here again, it's a promise.

Too Good Too Bad

I smoked a cigarette tonight. Unable to sleep, I stepped to my window around one A.M. and lit this fag I got from a lady friend last weekend. Taking a leak from the very same window five months ago, shooting into the flow of raindrops from four stories high didn't feel nearly this strange. Damn drunken summer nights.

And damn leather jacket pockets. The cig broke at more than one points, its filter was completely destroyed, and I still can't get used to that old shitty taste. It's not like I wanted to, but still managed to feel it way too many times in the last two months. Damn freshmen camps.

You could define me a social smoker. I'd call myself as an anti-social one. Standing there alone, breathing in and out, slowly, like a dying whale that ran ashore, I was thinking about growing up, becoming independent, walking under an unearthly weight of a million responsibilities. Besides the usual I could use a Coke thought, only one thing hit my mind in conclusion: I'm going to write a filler post that makes absolutely no sense, but it'll have a crazy twist ending in the last sentence.

Here, have a look at Jerry O'Connell's chomped off penis.

What a Story, Mark!

Remember Jerky Jim and his comment regarding knowledge and universities? He said when I get to that, I'll know more and I'll be allowed to use my voice. Man.

Let me tell you something about this university thing. I won't go into boring details, that's the common September-syndrome of bloggers who want to write about their new school. I have some eccentric but fun teachers and profs, a few cool roommates (our bad movie nights are a real blast into the head even when alcohol isn't involved), and a nice city to live and learn 4 days a week. That's about it.

Now, what did I actually learn during these weeks? Let's count it from August, with the two freshmen camps I attended. Here it goes:

• Rubber chickens can be whores too. Seriously, I saw one that would suck on anyone's preferred body parts if s/he paid the chicken's - her name was Sári - owner.
  

A real babe, isn't she?

• I'm not the biggest Stanley Kubrick/Clockwork Orange fan from our city, what the hell.

• Sex with deeply religious girls often leads to scruple. Fact.

• You can find jocks outside America, even if they are a bit old (24 years, but the guy was grizzled already), coming complete with huge muscles (to compensate being 5.7 feet tall) and almost funny behaving problems. You don't wanna f'ck with him when he's drunk. Least if both of you are drunk.

Awright, that's all for now. Maybe I'll complete the list when something comes to my mind. The point is, what I would like to say to a certain someone:

Oh really now, Jim? Really?

Knewsick Shows Its Teeth

Well now. Seems like 5 days before the album's official release date, you can listen to the closing titles from Michael Wandmacher's Piranha 3-D score. Oh boy. Seriously.

This is the kind of badass music that makes you feel like your d!ck has grown 9 inches.

Even if you are a girl.

Presenting:

P3D End Titles from Chris Lydecker on Vimeo.

Oh yeah, baby. Oh yeah :)

Association, I'm Lovin' It

Back in 2000 I saw a music video for Armand van Helden's Koochy, a song which is basically a remixed-the-living-shit-out-of-it version of the classic Cars by Gary Numan. With its '80s retro feel the thing is still one of my favorite music videos, It's nothing more than and nothing sort of a stock footage glory, featuring scenes from documentaries, sci-fi movies and porn flicks, centered around a concept which is - at least I think - depicting the essence of an orgasm via technical mayhem. Check it and keep an eye out for the robot that sings, more like talks the lyrics:

He's called Box, and he stars in the classic 1976 sci-fi movie Logan's Run. Did you notice anything strange on him? Since a good third of my readers are hardcore gamers, you probably should. I've photoshopped this little picture so the ones living in blessed ignorance (= no game-addicts) could see how awesome this talking toaster is:


Yes, he's wearing the friggin' Xbox logo! And yes, he's actually called Box. What the hell. You'd think the movie somehow managed to pay homage for a console that came out almost thirty years later. Or that the designers were Logan-fans. Or maybe what we're seeing here is just plain coincidence.

But seriously, anybody heard something official on this? I did not, but this is why I associate Gary Numan with the Xbox. Let's move on.

One of the most fun games I ever played on the X360 (thanks to my pal Mykee, I never show him, but he's grooming me for being a real addict) is an FPS called Borderlands. Set on planet Pandora (no, not that one), you make your way through deserts with futuristic weapons, and... whatever, just watch the intro here. Cool, huh?

And what's the coolest thing about it? The soundtrack, that way-too-cool-for-this-Earth song, Ain't No Rest For the Wicked. It's a real shameful cliché among their fans, but that's how I learned about the artist behind it, a band called Cage the Elephant.

Cage. The. F'cking. Elephant.

These guys are this month's Dickies, something thats awesomeness nearly poked my eyes out for years, but I haven't noticed them until recently. Their music is glorious, miraculous, spectacular, amazing, sea-you-al. The whole self-titled album is so kewl with catchy tunes and sharp lyrics in every song, that I had to make a fan group for them on iWiW. I encourage you to join it if you have an account, and like their music, being the only member of my own club is a bit boring and a helluva lot embarrassing, too :)

Well, this is why your humble jellyfish associates deserts and ugly dogs with the X360 and one of his favorite bands. No summary or any kind of wisdom this time. Or maybe... association is fun, so is this song by CtE. See you later, Dear Readers.

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?