The truth about Canadian women

My fellow Americans I come to you today with revelations. Recently, a truth was revealed to me, and it is a truth I feel I must share with you all. It is a truth that could, quite possibly, explain everything.

You see whereas most mammals have breasts to feed their young, Canadian women are different. I know what you’re thinking: “Impossible! I’ve seen Canadian breasts!” except you haven’t. Think about it. You’ve seen images, movies even, that may contain actresses born in Canada.

But those images were digitally changed to keep their secret. Canadian women do not have breasts in the traditional, biological sense we’ve come to know. Instead, due to environmental and sociological forces beyond rational thought, they have donuts, and timbits.

Here now I can present you with proof of this astounding fact. Below you will see an image of a true, unaltered, Canadian woman, nude from the waist up. This image may shock and upset you.
canadian-breasts
Now, Canadians, I know you will deny this post is true. However, it is time to stop pretending to the rest of the world and admit this truth. It’s all right. We know of the Tim Horton Protocols that enslaved your people and genetically distorted them. Come out of your frosted hiding spots and taker your place in the sun.

In conclusion, Americans, our Canadian friends are donut-chested freaks and we shouldn’t trust them just like the rest of us in their hearts. It’s just that there is fried dough between their hearts and the world.

The new face of war…

The times are changing. G.I. Joe and Cobra have both sufgfered huge losses in funding and recruitment. And now they have… new plans…
———————————
cobraco“Hello! You used to know me as Cobra Commander! Yes! I plotted to take over your stupid countries with might and power. Of course I did! Wouldn’t you, if faced with the sort of sniveling weakness you yourselves display?

“Sadly there has been a downturn in recruits for my Cobra soldiers. As such I have been forced to reconsider our methods. So I am here today to announce that Cobra will no longer exist. Instead I shall use my army, my weapons and my masterful plans to help you get into the best shape of your life. Organically. Safely. Artistically!

“From here on out we are…. YOGA! Yes, so please address me as the Yoga Commander. My Yoga soldiers will help tone and stretch you. We will work together to ensure your peak physical conditioning, as well as spiritual growth!

“YOOOOGGGGAAAAAAAAAA!”

———————————

duke“Uhm. Hi. Excuse me. But don’t listen to Yoga Commander. He wants to train you in soft pliable ways to take over your mind and use you as his Downward Facing Army. Do not listen. Do not follow his lead. Do not trust him.

“Instead, come with me. I’m Duke. And while, as leader of G.I. Joe I commanded forces against the man you now call Yoga Commander, I, too, have seen a new day dawn.

“With that in mind, and our need to confront the forces of Yoga on their own terms, let me introduce you to G.I. Jazz! We’ll get you in shape the American Way! With sweat and hard work and possibly crying. You’ll cry, cadet! You’ll cry hard! Jazzercise on this level isn’t just for anyone!

“No, you have to prove yourself worth while to be a member of G.I. Jazz, but if you can, the world awaits you. Justice awaits. Say no to the forces of Yoga and sign up, today, with G.I. Jazz!

“Remember! Spin Class is half the battle!”

Game of Heathers

I just realized that Heathers, yes the movie, fits really well into Game of Thrones. Yes, really. Think of it like this:

You have Heather Lannister, Heather Baratheon, and Heather Greyjoy and then poor Veronica Stark. Meanwhile everyone is afraid of the new kid Slater Targaryen. Now, I haven’t read ahead or anything but I really hope Veronica blows up King’s Landing.

Also I want to reshoot Heathers with Heather Lannister’s brother Tyrion involved.

But anyway! Yeah. Heather Stark moves to King’s Landing, and she hates it. It’s run by this clique of Heathers. Well, you know how this story goes. Slater is feared, he’s known as Dragon Boy, and hooks up with Ronnie. They manage to accidently kill Heather Baratheon (well Ronnie thinks it’s an accident at first) and now the wheels start to come off.

Also – late in the movie the God of Tits and Wine shows up.

But really, come on, admit this to yourself and to me – Heathers works as Game of Thrones far too well. Which really means that GoT is, quietly, just a teen romance black comedy disguised as something far bigger. But now you’ll never unsee it.

You’re welcome.

‘Twas the Night Before A Freelancer’s Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
Almost no creatures stirred, but the freelancers light didn’t go out.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
The Freelancer wanted to go to bed, but didn’t dare.

The children were nestled all snug in their bed,
But the Freelancer still has deadlines, instead.
Words, art, music and more spilled from his mind,
And the night stretched out long, the day far behind.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
The Freelancer didn’t stir, distractions couldn’t matter.
Into the house a man did manage to creep,
And the Freelancer only yelled, “Shhh, they’re trying to sleep!”

It was jolly old Saint Nick who stood in the room,
He set down his bag and came into the room.
“It’s Christmas Eve, don’t you know?” he asked the hard worker,
“That doesn’t matter,” the Freelancer said, “‘sides, there’s a ham in the slow cooker.”

“You can’t work tonight,” Santa insisted, “somehow it’s just wrong.”
“But they need,” the Freelancer insisted, “their websites, books, comics and song.”
“There’s no rest for the weary, no reason to stop,”
“You can come and leave presents and then out you pop.”

“I work only one day a year,” said Saint Nick with a hop,
“You work all the rest, surely tonight of all nights you can just stop.”
“There are updates to do,” the Freelancer insisted,
“Crafts to make, things that should be knitted.”

“Well then more gifts for you,” Said the jolly old man,
“To reassure you that your work won’t go unnoticed from here to Japan.”
“That’s sweet of you to offer,” the hard worker replied,
“But so long as my payments are timely, my brain can be fried.”

“This is my life, and this is who I am,”
“Now off with you, deliver presents and leave me my ham.”
With that The Freelancer stood and stretched producing many creaks,
Then sat back down and planned out the next bunch of weeks.

Santa left the gifts under the tree each wrapped with a bow,
Before he let himself back out into the snow.
“Now Donner! Now Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen!”
“Quiet,” yelled The Freelancer, “if I lose my place again, I’ll steal Blitzen!”

So Santa left, quiet as a mouse,
And no other sounds were heard in the house.
Until at least The Freelancer headed to bed,
Already thinking of tomorrow’s deadlines instead.

–from ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas by Clement Clarke Moore, modified by Adam P. Knave

Ä TÄLË ÖF MËTÄL ËÄRTH

Gaändylf the Rocking came down and knocked on the door. Bustling noises could be heard inside and Gaändylf waited, if impatiently. His fingers twisted and flexed, a kickass air guitar solo formed, with his wizardly ways of rock.

The door opened, at last, for keeping a Wizard of Rock waiting could be dangerous indeed. Bilbö looked up at his visitor, his old friend who sported a long flowing gray beard, forked down the middle, and eyebrows that came out over the brim of his hat.

“Bilbö,” Gaändylf said, “it is good you are home. I have in mind an adventure for you.”

“An adventure?” Bilbö exclaimed, patting down all of his pockets, “I haven’t even had Headbanger’s Ball lunch yet!”

“Never mind that,” Gaändylf harrumphed impatiently, “let me in so that I can tell you of my idea.”

“Very well,” Bilbö said, throwing the horns and bowing, “enter and well met.”

“Well met, and may your neck always bang,” Gaändylf replied as he stooped low to enter the small hobbit’s hole.

Bilbö ran around his house, gathering up cheese, crackers, tea and bitch’s brew – the makings of a fine Headbanger’s Ball lunch. Hobbits often had breakfast, Satan’s breakfast, lunch, Headbanger’s Ball lunch, supper and late supper. They enjoyed their food almost as much as they enjoyed their music.

Gaändylf smiled as he waited. He knew well the Hobbit proclivity for meals. He held his mighty bass staff, idly plucking strings, and considered how to tell Bilbö that soon he would be far beyond the front of the stage and deep into the realm of backstage passes and tour bus hell.

But first – cheese, and tea.

Jem! I’m gonna hologram forever…

Shameful realization – I’ve never actually dug into the Jem cartoon here. I mean I’ve created a Scale of One to Jem. I’ve talked about the show some but I’ve never really given it the full on me it deserves.

That changes now! Synergy, hit it!

Jem was one of those shows that makes much more sense when you’re watching it as a kid than it ever will trying to think about it as an adult. But basically there’s this woman, Jerrica Benton. Why isn’t Jerrica a more popular name? It’s the female form of Jericho, like the “Walls Of” which were torn down by sound – come on that’s clever! Anyway her dad built this hologram thing to be ultra-cool and left it to her and so…

Get this – Jerrica runs a music company and uses Synergy, the hologram thing, to disguise herself as a rock star, that she then publishes. It’s like vanity press silly. She leverages all of this technology to basically wear a wig and put on make-up. Thanks, Jerrica, for squandering the greatest leap forward in holographic technology since… well who knows. Since holograms!

What’s funny now is, if you did this show today it would be called Gorillaz, and would be a documentary, in effect. But back them it was Jem. So she gets some folk together, her sister and foster sisters – so way to think outside your circle, Jerrica, and they form a band.

Jem and the Holograms.

Of course Jem was the Hologram. They were really themselves and didn’t pretend to be other people. But the name manages to imply the reverse. Jerrica Benton – Kind of a dick.

So they fight the Misfits, who are not the punk band you might be thinking of, but rather a band of people named Stomer and Pizzazz. Needless to say they were cooler than the so-called Holograms.

But anyway most of the show was Jerrica being all “No one can find out I’m also Jem.” See, I get that when Supergirl doesn’t want people to know her secret ID. I understand it when Spider-Man worries. Their families would be in danger.

When Jerrica does it I have to wonder what the issue is. What is she afraid of? Well. She’s afraid everyone would know she’s a fraud and has been squandering this technology and want to use it. Which is fair, because that’s what she’s doing. She basically has a secret identity because she’s kind of a dick and doesn’t want to be called on it.

It’s true.

Mind you this all ignores something. Fuck the hologram tech. Seriously – they also own the first true AI in Synergy. And she’s used to… help Jerrica’s music career. Christ, that’s the meaning of heartbreak. There Synergy is, brain the size of a planet and they ask her to take Jerrica to the stage. Call that job satisfaction? ‘Cause I don’t.

Jerrica Benton – worst person in the world? Possibly. Kimber totally should have punched her the fuck out and taken over. Maybe that was an unaired episode. I can hope.

S.H.I.E.L.D. – the theme

So with Joss Whedon poised to do a S.H.I.E.L.D. TV show I figgered one good cost saving measure would be to reuse the Firefly theme and just change around the words some. Well, then I thought I’d be helpful, see, and do it for them. So, below, is the new S.H.I.E.L.D. theme:

Take my Cube, remake the land
Take me where only A.I.M. can stand
I don’t care, I’m still free
You can’t take Helicarriers from me.

Kill me off, try that tack
Tell them I ain’t comin’ back
Replace me with an LMD
You can’t take Helicarriers from me.

Leave my flyin’ car where it lay
It won’t never see another day
Lost clearance, blew the scheme
You can’t take Helicarriers from me.

I feel Hydra reaching out
And Zodiac’s song without a doubt
I still hear and I still see
You can’t take Helicarriers from me.

Lost sight of Dum-Dum Dugan
Howlin’ Commandos on the run.
There’s no place I can be
Since I’ve found Nick Fury.

And you can’t take Helicarriers from me.

————

I’m not sorry.

Pop Culture Is Dead

Please note: This was originally supposed to the be the end of the show I just did. So it’s a bit way long when written out and may be a bit rambly. I’ve edited it down some and tried to make sure it seems focused but you’ve been warned…

I was talking about Saved by the Bell the other day. And well, thinking about it really brings something home for me. First of all, we really need to stop making live-action TV shows with minors, because there has never been a cast, I think, on earth, that was not horribly scarred by this. Neil Patrick Harris survived. We can maybe call Danny Bonaduce a survivor NOW, but that’s about as far as you get.

Diff’rent Strokes, of course, were all criminals at one point, or on drugs, or both. And, funny story, Diff’rent Strokes, the two black kids, they’re did all right in the end, mostly. White girl? Dead of an overdose. That’s the reality of Diff’rent Strokes for you right there.

Punky Brewster, I don’t know whatever happened to her. She got tits, that’s the last thing I heard, maybe she was swallowed by them, I don’t know, haven’t heard much about her.

Winnie Cooper went on to get a degree in math. Her and Neil Patrick Harris should little have survivor clone babies together.

But, man, most of these shows, and you look back at Saved By The Bell — you have Dustin Diamond, who, of course, has become Dustin Diamond, which is not a fate I’d wish on most people I meet. Then you have Elizabeth Berkley who thought she’d have a movie career if only she’d stripped hard enough, and was proven wrong by the universe… not that all of us didn’t figure that one out early, but she had to prove it to herself.

So, we really do need to stop putting minors in TV shows because no good comes of it.
Continue reading Pop Culture Is Dead

Newsroom

I like Sorkin. Well. I like his dialogue. Sometimes I like his plots. Some of his characters I enjoy. But I do love his cadence, the feel, I adore it. I am not as enamored of the man. Not by half. With his new show NEWSROOM starting tonight I wanted to get this out.

See the show is about, basically, how we have to re-elevate the news to a thing of glory. A bastion for smarts and truth and all that. And I agree. But Sorkin seems to think this can only happen on TV Network News. I disagree.

But to disagree with Sorkin, I wanted to do it on his terms. With a script.

INT. Hallway – Night.

Kevin and Lisa walk down the dimly lit hallway together, moving quickly. Kevin shuffles papers in his hands as he moves, almost as if he was searching for a cosmic order to put them in, a higher purpose in the relationship of one paper to the next. Lisa hugs a clipboard to her chest as if it were a security blanket.

KEVIN
It’s time to take back the truth.

LISA
And we’re the people to do it?
Continue reading Newsroom