Happy!

Have you ever noticed how the majority of Blogs are reserved for bitching and moaning? Its true. Just check the internet, you'll see what I mean. I'm not bitter! Not even close. So why am I so compelled to vent when I get online? No one is even reading this anyway. Cept for the gubmint. (Right now, gubmint, you are scanning for key words. But I'm not gonig to use any of them so jsut forget it.)

So in deference to the audience, forthwith, I shall post about something nice!

So.

Um...

Uh, yeah! Ok, so I saw a kitty today! He was SO fluffy! I like fluffy kitties. Fluffy kitties make me smile. :)

Thats all I got. I return you now to your regularly scheduled bitching and moaning.

Can you screw up the Dukes or Hazzard?

Yes. As hard as it is to imagine, the DoH CAN be screwed up. What were you thinking, Jay Chandehralahalcharalahahalala? I loved Super Troopers! Listen, there are some things you jsut dont mess with. Let me spell it out for you.

Bo and Luke didn't curse.
Bo was not "in love" with the General.
Luke was not a horn dog.
Cooter was not a perv.
Boss Hogg was fat.
Roscoe was half retarded and laughed funny.
Uncle Jesse was not a pot head and he didnt babble terrible jokes incessantly.
Uncle Jesse was not hot for Daisy. (That was just disgusting.)

You did get a couple of things right, however, Jay:

Daisy Duke.
The General Lee.
The chases and jumping.

meh, thats it, really.

Can we please get a remake of your remake? Puhlease. I love the Dukes ofHazzard almost as much as I love The Transformers so what you have done to me is cut me. Cut me deep. Why? I thought we had something special?!

PS- shame on you. SHAME on you for ruining 25 more of the exceedingly rare 69 Dodge Charger on that steaming pile of celluloid.

How I joined the masses.

Hello friends, you may remember me from such passenger vehicles as: Ford Mustang! And Lexus!
There are also my lesser known works, like: Kia, The Musical! And Aspire: The Car that Expired.

Well, as of late, I was the Lexus guy. If there was ever a person who was less a Lexus guy, that would be me. What was I thinking? After a couple of unpleasant accidents in the Mustang, I was feeling the need for some padding and maybe just a little bling. Hence the Lexus.

Well folks, the Lexus is gone. I never quite fit into it anyway. Not because I am a tall, cool drink of water, which I am, but because its not me. Never was, and no amount of upturned Izod collars would make me. Thanks the heavens I never went that route. Imagine the looks I got unfolding my skateshoes and jeans and t-shirt with skulls and goateed spikey haired frame from that thing. In a way, it was kinda fun catching the odd sideways glances. "Did you see that...that...hooligan in the Lexus!? Stolen, no doubt."

Listen, I'm not proud of it. I'm also not proud of the car payments either, which is why it had to go. Damn me to hell for leasing it! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get out of a lease and subsequently sell your car?

Glad you asked! Basically, a lease is like renting an apartment. You don't own any of it, you are just paying for the priviledge of using it. Cheaper, they say. Maybe, if it wasn't a Lexus. Since its a super-rental, you never pay any taxes unless you buy the car. Guess what, by the way? To sell the car, you have to buy the car. Yup, and thanks very much DMV! So imagine you find some feller who will buy your car. You cant sell it to him or her until you buy it yourself and to buy it you have to come up with all the cash AND pay sales tax.

Long story short: I found that feller and he was willing to go thru the rigmarole with the DMV. It was one huge headache for 4 weeks, let me tell you. I ended up givin him the car so that he would pay off Lexus. But since Lexus held the title until the car was paid for, he was basically driving MY car.

So naturally, he got a photo-cam red light ticket as he drove off with the car.

Bah, it's all over with now, methinks, and the Lexus is gone and good riddance to it. It wasn't and really never was my thing anyway.

Nope, I'm more of a Honda Civic guy apparently.

Yes, its true. No Lexus leaves us with one silver Civic. Just like every other one on the road. I've noticed that Civic drivers will go to great extremes to distinguish their car from all the zillions of others on the road. Imagine trying to find your black or silver civic in Serramonte Mall parking lot around X-mas time. Or in SFO airport garage. Why, if it wasn't for that wacky Jack in the Box antenna ball, you'd never find it!

Me? Oh, we got a wacky air freshener that no one else would possibly buy from Target. That way, we can always find our personalized Civic, no matter where we are.

And whenever I drive that badboy, I imagine myself in the kind of car that really is me: 66 Pontiac LeMans, 66 Nova SS, 66 Malibu SS...66 was a good year, they tell me.

Meantime, don't be steppin to my pimp ride, busta. I got a mad fresh freshener on the rearview mirror, yo.

What does Cinorom spell backwards?

I’ll tell you what it spells: pure genius! A healthy does of mock indignation has spurned on this mid-morning posting, friends, but it was high time I suppose to make a “shout-out” as it were to the big guy, the dapper Don. You may recognize him as the guy with balls (see below.)

The Don, as we call him, has his own comic book and motion picture production studio and if you haven’t seen it, you really should. See the link at right and you will be whisked away into a magical world of children gone bad and the twisted world the inhabit. A real treat for the eyes (and ears, if you get the movies on DVD.)

The genius of the thing is, see, there are comics and movies that all tie into one another. Each series focuses on a particular child of ill-repute (not that kind of ill-repute, sicko) and gives you some insight into their twisted worldview. The art is evocative of Alice in Wonderland meets Edgar Allan Poe (if you can imagine such a union) and is rich in sharp tones and contrast.

Whimsical doesn’t quite capture the depth of this universe and dark is to sweeping a generalization. Startlingly, you might feel like you’ve met kids like this at some point in your life. Perhaps you should see it for yourself and decide…you know, for yourself.

Cinorom, or Moronik as it is also known, is poised for stardom. Now is a good time to get on board. George might even sign a copy of his work for you. Now get on over there, hyah!

Who knew?

Who knew? Who knew anyone actually read this thing? I mean, I don't even read it. I'm lucky if my wife reads it! (Which is very sweet of her, by the way, considering the intellectual level it is founded on.)

I'm a lucky guy, I realize. I'm blessed by wonderful friends and a wonderful wife, and as a combo, it makes life really enjoyable. Last night was our soon-to-be-annual Halloween party and it was a success, methinks.

It's always a gamble to get people to actually wear costumes but since we pride ourselves on making fun of each other, I really had nothing to worry about. What better way to rip your buds a new one than to give them appropriate fodder to work with? I mean, thanks to Halloween, the jokes practically write themselves!

Well, here it is, pics of all the fun. Enjoy, lads and lassies!

The PaperFlipper, in the flesh and Ben's lovely wife Lisa show us the true meaning of Halloween. I have no idea what the true meaning is, but there you go.

Only Dave could pull off "Ben on Crutches" AND a tourist costume...all in one. Now that is multitasking. I mean, if the Transformers celebrated Halloween, Dave would be Optimus.

The Dapper Don, showwing off what big balls he has. For five minutes worth of effort, I haev to say, this was quite an impressive costume.

And our grand prize winner for best costume goes to....Chris! Chris, you will recieve one deleicious box of truffles and all the damn inflatable balls that George pooped out that yuou can cram in your car. Congrats!

I thought I new robots. I've seen Transformers about a million times. I've seen Macross and Gundam and Gunbuster and Evangelion and Patlabor and Shin Getta and Gigantor and I even once had a run in with Power Rangers. But dammit, how in the world did I not know about Giant Robo?!

I'll tell you why. I was narrow-minded. I judged a book by its cover. I mean look at him...
He has a sphinx head. A head of a sphinx. He looks like a metal samurai sphinx.

Thats the best they could do? I thought to myself. Well it turns out that that sphinx head is precisely why he is awesome and rad. A friend at work turned me onto this 7 part series and holyfuckingshit, its incredible. Nevermind the abysmal US voice-overs. Nevermind horrible haircuts of the enemies or the unimaginative name of the giant robot. (hint: they removed a letter from "Giant Robot.")

No, Giant Robo 0WNZ the screen whenever he appears. He doesn't talk, or transform or carry a squadron of fighters; he just stomps around, responding to the monosyllabic commands of his 12 year old cohort and smashing the everlivingfuck out of whatever the kid tells him to.

Sample Scene:

Daisaku (a 12 year old kid in knickers, talking into his wrist watch/Robot Controller): "Gaint Robo! PUNCH!"

Giant Robo (a giant robot): "OOOHHHMM!!!" (PUNCH!)



Tell me that isn't brilliant. Ok, there is a hell of a lot more to it. It chronicles the 7 days of chaos brought forth by a terrorist group that has been plotting for 10 years. They've weaned the world off conventional power sources and made them reliable on The Shizuma Drive, a clean, recyclable power supply. Then they turn it against them.



Well that really only leaves The Experts of Justice, featuring the prototypical anime characters to which all other anime characters would come to be designed off: a staunch, no-nonsense suit who runs the show, a husband and wife bruiser team, a heavily muscled lummox, a leggy girl with guts, a wisened bald monk that can turn paper into a weapon, and a punk kid with a giant robot to clean up the mess and save the world.



Together, they fight Big Fire, they maniacal terrorist group bent on ruling the world. Unlike most anime however, this one has a heart and you actually start to care about the characters. Add one good twist after another and a giant robot who 0WNZ you and you've got a recipe for AWESOMENESS.



Well? What are you waiting for?! Go watch it!

Some things I HATE, part one

I’m not a hateful person, really. I don’t hate people or places. That’s too strong an emotion to waste precious earth-time on.  I just hate certain things. In this little segment I call “Some Things I HATE”, I’ll share with you those things. Why? Because I can. It’s my Blog, what are you going to do about it? Oh yeah? Oh YEAH?! Shut up! I hate you! I’m going home!

 

Sorry about that. BlogRage.

 

Boys and Girls, todays thing to hate is:

 

“Dropping” things.

I HATE when people say something is “dropping.” Or will “drop.” Or has “dropped.” Or really any conjugation of the verb “drop”.

 

Listen, I understand if you are a gangsta rappa and you are thirlled that your long awaited CD is about to be released, playa. But you know what its not doing? Dropping.

It’s not “dropping”, its coming out. Or, its being released. Either is acceptable.

 

Whats worse is modern media’s adoption of this retardation. “New Nokia 6654 drops on Oct.24 from Cingular!”  Well, who cares, for one thing. Isnt there a new cell phone developed every 30 seconds, according to some famous statistician? Besides that, its not dropping! Its “being made available to the public for consumption at a predetermined time at select locations.” ?Admittedly that’s too long. But it cannot be worse than the other option.

 

Is English really that hard to speak? I do it all the time!  In fact, I yearn (olde tyme worde for “desire”) for the dayes of olde where we orated with eloquence and fervor. I yearn for words like “verily” and “forsooth”. I yearn to end words in “e” even when it is unnecessary. Anything to avoid using slang like “drop.”

 

End Rant.

The Monocle Sees All...

Friends, you are the fortunate few who are afforded a rare glimpse into my psyche. I’d like to share with you today my first and perhaps my greatest Comic Book Super Villain. I invented him today, over a bowl of chili, not that that had anything to do with it. I call him:

THE MONOCLE

The Monocle can be described loosely as a mix between The Penguin and The Midnight Bomber, however, sporting the physique of Will Farrell. He wears a long velvet smoking jacket, patent leather dress shoes, slacks and has his hear coifed just-so.

But his distinguishing feature is the odd assortment of monocles affixed to handsome gold chains clipped to his breast pocket. Each Monocle has a different colored lense, and as you might guess, each has a unique ability when placed in the eye of The Monocle. There are numerous, but here is a short list of his super-powered monocles.

“Fire Blast Monocle” – nothing can withstand the fiery heat from this 30 foot long blast!

“Freeze Ray Monocle” – an icey-cold blast from this will render even the feistiest of foe into a stone-cold statue of ice!

“Lazer Beam Monocle” – nothing can escape the lancing blade of the Lazer Beam! Its slices and dices like nothing else!

“Cat’s Breath Monocle” – One whiff of this hideous tuna-scented projectile weapon can fell even the largest of beasts!

And the coup de grace, the most feared of all monocles:

“The Medusa Monocle” – it has been said, “to look upon the Medusa Monocle is to leave this mortal world.” The Medusa Monocle turns all who cast a gaze into stone!

Suffice to say, The Monocle is a worthy foe; an enemy to be reckoned with. His only adversary, the only man who can stop his unquenchable quest for destruction: The Optometrist!

Stay tuned Monocle fans! More to come on The Optometrist!

Same Monocle-time! Same Monocle-channel!

My Hero: A Beginner's Guide.

Have I ever told you about my hero? Look to the right. Blue head, glowing eyes. Striking features. A more handsome robot Cybertron has never seen. Nevermind that he could not deduce Megatron's evil plans every week. (Hint: Energon. Must have Energon.) I simply will not get into a debate about his so-called "short comings." The man (robot, actually) has none.

The guy is incredible. That voice, that shiny metallic hide. The whole truck thing. Sheek-Shaak-Shook-Shaak-Shook. If you ever watched the show, you know what that sound means. Time to transform and roll out, bitches! It's time to bust some Decepti-chops!

Now, as you may or may not know, Transformers is being made into a movie. No, not the Animated Feature in which my hero died (and yes, there were tears, I really don't want to talk about it.) but an honest to God, CG effects driven masterpiece.

But how can you know that Rob? I don't, friend, I don't. But I do want to believe that, and believe you me, there are enough ways for this whole thing to go south. A true fan has to believe.

Let me bring you up to speed. The following are bullet points of known facts. I will annotate with whether or not I believe this is a good thing or not. Why? Cause its my Blog. Blog-perogative, yo.

-Senor Spielbergo is the Exec Producer-GOOD! The guy knows how to make a special effects driven movie that still has a heart.

-Michael Bay is directing-Um...Armageddon? That was the biggest piece of shit movie ever made. The Rock? Not bad. The Island? Supposed to be good. I'm on the fence here, gang.

-Some douche-bag Producer: BAD. I cant think of his name but the movie company is adding producers faster than the industry can poop them out. And to top it off, this guy said something to the effect of: "Use the original voice actors? That's silly. We want good actors, not cartoon actors." You know what that means? Probably Ben Assfuck as Optimus Prime.

-Don Murphy is another Producer -GOOD! He brings balance to the force. The guy is a hardcore fan and is fight ing for, among other things, the original voice actors. I mean really, can any one else do Prime better than the movie Voice over guy? No, sir, I think not.

Ok, that's all I have for you for now. Stay tuned for further Transformers the Movie updates.
Long live Optimus Prime.

Blogging: a Beginner's Guide

For those who are uninitiated, a "Blog" or a "Weblog" is a place for people with too much time on their hands to post pointless information that no one reads. No, really, its true. Ben taught me that on my first day on the job. Little did I know that starting a Blog, easy as it was, would be so demanding. You see, in the off chance that there is one person out there in the ether who actually reads your ramblings, and you do not post, you are letting them down. You are letting the World Wide Web down. That makes you a loser.

I'm a loser.

Well, maybe I'm only a loser in the Blog sense, but in the real world, where there is fresh air, and things to look at the don't have refresh rates that clash my with fluorescent lighting, I'm a king amongst men.

Do you see what I'm doing here, folks? Its nonsense. All of it. Who cares? I'm just typing at this point A) to hear myself talk cause damn if I don't have a silky smooth voice in my head and B) George scolded me. That was enough to get me moving.

In other news, my toe hurts.

Ah, you gotta love the Blog, its the only place to pump up your own ego by thinking that someone is actually reading your mental caca-doodie.

Stay tuned for a report on my cat's breath. It will be riveting.