Ones and Zeros

I'm officially a film maker, at least that's what my BDFI certificate suggests. So...now what? I now know what every college graduate feels like the moment they return to adulthood. What the fuck now? I have all this knowledge, very useful knowledge, and no where to use it aside from my own projects. Not to complain, but I had this crazy notion that I'd be more well equipped for the job hunt by now.
God damn this laptop is bright. For some reason getting a newer, slightly faster computer has re-ignited my interest in PC gaming. I downloaded Fallout 2 and finally got to play Minecraft on a machine that doesn't choke every other frame. I'm drooling over Homeworld 2 even though I suck ass at RTS games. I think I'm starting to accept my shut-in habits, even embrace them. As long as I stay away from WoW I'm okay, right? Yeah.

This Station is Non Operational (First Sequence)

So I'm trying to figure out just how deep into this "internet personality" world I should go. Until my real computer starts working again (and who knows when the fuck that will happen), my YouTube channel is pretty stagnant save for a few kick-ass 30 second Black Ops videos showcasing my wild tomahawk skills. And yes, there is a small part of me that is proud of this. Very fucking small, but it's there. So, I'm just here, with a 10 inch bastard of a netbook that operates so slowly even Apple LCII's laugh at it behind it's back. No one wants to buy this thing on Ebay, with good reason, so that chances of getting a REAL laptop are fading quickly. But boo hoo, right? Kids are starving in China, as the old adage goes, so stop whining and eat your oatmeal. I think that's part of the saying as well, I don't know, my mom never actually used that one against me.
*SPOILER ALERT* Okay, here's a subject, The Human Centipede. No doubt you've heard all about this sick little film that isn't really as revolting as it's reputation suggests. Sure, it's pretty fucking gross, but after seeing A Serbian Film (DO NOT WATCH), it's pretty hard for any film to get under my skin (GLOAT). I watched THC (Ha!) again a few nights back, this time paying close attention to Deiter Laser (Best. Name. Ever). He was given the task of portraying another mad scientist bent on creating a monster for reasons  no one but him understands. Not a hard role to pull off considering that ALMOST EVERY HORROR MOVIE IN HISTORY HAS A CHARACTER LIKE THIS. Laser (Pew Pew!!), however, took this as a challenge, it seems, and dug deep into the psyche of a man who once loved three rottweilers sewn together ass to mouth. He hates people, as he states, and spends his time drugging truckers and dragging them back to his thoroughly modern home in Middle of Who The Fuck Knows, Germany. (Side Note: I wanted that last line to be in German, but there is no translation for "middle of who the fuck knows." That would've been really funny though, huh?) So anyway, he's insane. Check. Has an obsession with goal that makes no sense and is harmful to others. Check. He's somehow wealthy. Check. Textbook mad scientist, no? But Laser takes it to a whole other level of fucking bat-shit crazy. His mind is so warped you almost forgive the film maker's who are actually responsible for all the madness. He spends time on screen daydreaming. That's right, he clocks out in the middle of scenes regularly, but it's not for lack of acting. Laser is in character, dreaming of a day when he can stitch together a million people to make a Hands Across America centipede minus the hands and more ass to mouthing. He's so dedicated to the role it's almost impressive. Scratch that: it's totally impressive. Just watch the scene when he finally reveals his "masterpiece" to itself, and starts crying with joy as his creation cries in terror and agony. It's a layered performance in a film that doesn't warrant a layered performance. That's what I'm getting at. For how God damn ridiculous this film is (and it is ridiculous), Deiter Laser took his job completely seriously, and I think it payed off. I like the movie, mostly because it's hilarious and gross in very entertaining ways, but watching Deiter Laser do his thing makes it something special. So there you go, if you weren't quite sure you wanted to see The Human Centipede, there's a recommendation. It's on Netflix Instant Queue, there's no excuse for you not watching it on a different screen while reading this.

Ghostbusting Dinosaur Breeders

For whatever reason today I remembered some of the old games I used to play with my toys as a child. I never had complete sets of action figures, vehicles, or play sets. So, like any child, I used the power of my imagination to combine them all into one giant mind-fuckery of a production on the floor of my bedroom.
One such scenario involved Egon Spangler and GI Joe, respectively, over-seeing their new dinosaur park, complete with an incredibly uncontrollable and terrifyingly aggressive T-Rex. They sat comfortably in their Ecto-1, perched atop a precarious ledge overlooking the park, which was comprised of small trees and electrified Lego fences. "This park will make us a lot of money," said Egon. "Indeed. All of the money, Egon, all of the money," replied GI Joe, patting Egon on the shoulder. They finished off their Ghostbuster micro-brews and decided to head to the office, for there was still much work to do. Unwittingly, Egon put the car in drive, not reverse, and they plunged off the cliff into the middle of dinosaur country.

"Oh shit! Are you okay, Egon?!" Joe cried as he rolled out from under the smashed car. "I'm fine, also I'm a doctor or something so I'm pretty sure nothing's broken," Egon snapped back, surveying the situation. It was dark and quiet, not a soul in sight. "The radio's smashed, how are we going to signal for help?" Whined Joe, his manly bravado slowly sinking into his newly forming vagina. (Keep in mind that this plot hole is made possible by the fact that cell phones hadn't been invented yet.) "Calm down, Joey, we can figure this out. I'm a parapsychologist, you're a soldier, who for whatever reason have co-ownership of a dinosaur park. There's no reason for us to panic." Just as he finished, a loud roar bellowed from across the park, shaking the plastic trees. Would they make it out alive? Of course not, I was a sadistic little shit and both were mauled horribly and in great agony died pointless, gruesome deaths. The fucking end.

Back to the Casting Call

Halloween is two days away, and I'm yet again half-assing a costume that is really easy to pull off. I enjoy dressing like an idiot as much as the next person, but I never feel the desire to put much thought or effort into it. Sure, you get some major accolades for creativity and cleverness, but it's fleeting. I'd rather just be Walter Sobchak and get minor praise for it, because the the one edge I have to make the costume work is merely my girth. The rest is seriously just clothes I have lying around and spouting out well known catch-phrases.

So what am I actually DOING for Halloween, you undoubtedly ask? Watching The Walking Dead series premiere and The Venture Brother's season finale. I will be far too hungover to engage in real festivities, and that is totally fine by me. Maybe I'll even hand out candy to the three children who happen to stop by because our neighbors are afraid of us and our many guns. It's not like we keep them loaded, we're not idiots, but Boogie does loudly cock his rifles almost every night. I'd be pretty scared too. But hey, it's Halloween, you're supposed to be scared.

Notes From A Scavenger

The people of Goodsprings are too trusting. I do a handful of good deeds and they'll fucking kill for me. If only they knew how much time I spend in their houses at night. I've made a fortune stealing their mildly useful items right out from under their noses and selling it to the local shop-keep. Dumb ass even commented on how familiar his silenced .22 looked right before ringing it up.
I spent hours standing over Trudy's slumbering body, silently deciding which to use: the tire iron, switchblade, or shovel. I passed out on her floor from sleep deprivation. before I could choose. She fed me in bed for a whole day after that, thinking I had radiation poisoning.
I don't care about them, I only care about getting to New Vegas. Every night I see those bold neon lights shining over the mountains. That cock sucker who left me for dead has no idea how hard I will kill him, and how much I will enjoy it.

P.S. While you've been reading this carefully placed note in this abandoned trailer, I've been behind you deciding over the aforementioned weaponry. Turn around to find out who the lucky winner is...

Texts From Ricko

(Upon learning that UFC fighter Brock Lesner has been sponsored by Jack Links Beef Jerky)

"Bork sometimes has hunger bad. No can punch hunger. Hunger toughest enemy of all. That why BORK SMASH hunger with Jack Links Moo Cow Strips. Scare hunger away, like lightning scare Bork. Make you strong like Bork, and Bork strongest there is!"

Photo-Chop Shop

So apparently I have a copy of Photoshop Elements 6 on this computer, and only discovered it a week ago. I've had this computer for two years, so even I find this a tad unacceptable. I'm learning, slowly, to manipulate pictures and be like everyone else in the world who owns a computer. Here's my latest work of art, which to date is the most realistic depiction of my day-to-day struggle yet:

I'm eye-balling that dumb-ass soldier in the window who thinks he can fuck with me and my cohort, Ralph. Little does he know that I don't give a shit about his feelings.