One day a man sat down his typical dinner of dirt and vodka, spiced up with a bit of moldy bread, when he heard a knock at the door. With foreboding in his heart, he stood up and walked unsteadily to answer it. He swallowed heavily, and reached for the door handle. Cracking the door open, he saw nothing, and began to relax. Swinging the decaying door wide open to make sure, he peered out into the darkness.
Suddenly, a tap sounded from his feet, and he jumped. Startled, he looked down and spied what appeared to be a miniature grim reaper, who was presumably looking directly at him. A chill settled over his heart, and hesitantly, he spoke.
"You aren't here for me, are you?"
The Grim Reaper didn't say anything for a few seconds, and the man's heart began to beat faster.
"No," it replied, "I'm just here for your hamster."
As I took a shower today, avoiding all semblance of thought, a giant spider appeared before my myopic, slightly astigmatic eyes. I stared at its poison-filled fangs as they glistened menacingly at me, and wondered if I was to survive my foolish attempt to wash the accumulated grime of the day off me. After all, I will just have to do it again tomorrow. This giant spider, and by giant I mean massive, huge, extremely large, sat for a while on the wall, content to taunt and harass me by existing. I may exaggerate slightly, but otherwise this is all fact.
People are so weak. We can't run fast or far, nor swim well, nor fly. Hell, we take more than a year in some cases to learn how to stand up straight. Our sense of smell is abysmal, our night vision nearly nonexistent, and our hearing range ridiculously narrow. We have no claws to speak of, our teeth can barely tear our food, we can't inject poison into our attackers or prey, but I suppose we do harbor all sorts of pathogens in our mouth as a consolation prize.
Have you ever wondered where the drainpipe under your shower goes? Neither have I. As I tried to run away from the massive eight-legged intruder, I came up with the brilliant plan of washing it down the drain. I put this plan into motion, and while the possibility exists for a wet, giant, pissed-off spider to result, I was hoping for a wet, giant,
dead spider instead.
I read an article recently that warned kids against flushing their fish down the toilet a la Finding Nemo. Apparently that water goes to the waste treatment plant (imagine that) whereupon it enters a giant grinder that smashes all the crap (no pun intended) that goes down the drain into a pulp that hopefully is deposited far away from me. The shower drainpipe apparently connects to the sewer pipe. The end result is hopefully wet, giant, dead spider
pieces. This is as it should be.
I was pointed to another great way to waste my time today. You may have heard of it before. It's a little silly, but it's kinda fun anyway, to see how many people are connected to you. I haven't really investigated it thoroughly, but I suspect it goes out to six degrees of separation. Without further ado, I present to you the mass-com major named
Friendster. I'm on there, with all of one friend listed. Namely, the one that pestered me to register. Having nothing better to do with my time, I did. I'm connected to over 7000 people, which is pretty ridiculous.
Register, you know you want to. Give in, everyone else is doing it. You can find me easily by my email address. And of course, it gives you the option to spam your friends with a form letter that inserts your own name to get them to join, but I thought that might be in poor taste. It is, by the way.
I slept thirteen hours last night, and in spite of the fact that I have been up for just about 12 hours now, I'm ready to sleep again. Apparently that night took more out of me than I thought. In line with that, I did pretty much nothing today, which is exactly what I planned to do. And it was good.
I did run across a great time-waster today, and have wasted far too much time on it. Unfortunately, like many web-based games, it gets boring because it gets far too easy once you figure out the system. On the other end of the spectrum are those that get too damn hard. This is not one of them, if you play it right.
Enjoy.
Fuck. I hate spam. I've found that if I don't unsubscribe from spam right quick, it piles up really quickly, in spite of their vaunted privacy polices. I had a good two paragraphs written out, checked my email, and my brain being as slow as it is now (I'll explain soon enough), I clicked the remove link, forgetting that it likes to take over the last open IE window, which just so happens to be the one I type out my posts in. I went through the process (likely putting myself on two more lists while I'm at it) of removing my email from their list, then clicked back to the posting page, only to find that all my text was gone. Fucking motherfuckers.
I've received spam in Cyrillic before, which is always great, considering I don't read fucking Russian or any of its related languages. I think my favorite one was the email that tried to sell me septic tanks. You know, because I need more septic tanks. Christ.
I've also discovered again that being tired makes one cranky and unable to properly articulate oneself. This should be obvious, for as a kid it affects you to a great extent, as your parents can attest to, but it's not something I really think about all that often. Why am I tired, you ask? Well, I had more details before, but I'm going to give the shorter version now since I'm annoyed.
I went to a party last night to bid a friend farewell as he goes to Japan today. In fact, he's still on the plane at this very moment, probably nursing his hangover. As you may have guessed, much drinking went on last night, and a bunch of people can't remember all the details of their night of drunken debauchery. I'm not exaggerating either. I failed to mention that they're all Japanese, and there is much truth to the stereotype that Japanese all love to drink. They do. Well, two girls that were under the legal drinking age (as if that ever stopped anyone before) didn't drink anything, but everyone else did, and yes, that includes me, since I didn't have to drive. I took a full six shots of soju, a famous Korean liquor, and was probably the most sober one of the bunch, aside from the people that didn't drink at all. For reference, this is, depending on the alcohol content of the soju, twice as much as I've ever had to drink, and I suffered no real ill effects from doing so. In other words, I didn't puke my guts out after imbibing too much liquid poison.
I'm surprised I can type a complete sentence due to the fact that I feel a bit out of it. However, this is likely due to the three or so hours of fitful sleep I got rather than a hangover. I did make sure to drink a lot of water, and I can say that I have no headache. I do want to collapse and sleep for a year, though. I also found an interesting caveat to my previous observation that being a little drunk makes my Japanese improve. It does, but only to a point. Unfortunately, another side effect of being drunk is that I am entirely unable to say numbers that have more than one digit in them due to the immense amount of thought it requires. And if you disagree, you try counting in a foreign language when you've had more to drink at one time than you've ever had in your life.
Now that more hours have passed, I am glad to say that I will not puke. Famous last words, I know. My stomach is still not entirely settled, but I don't think I'm going to show the world what I had for lunch today. Ah, drunken exploits. What better way to spend your summer?
It seems I'm getting stupider as I get older. Then again, I guess I can't really compare the scores of two different standardized tests. I thought about posting my scores here, but then I decided that it would be a bit too much self-aggrandizement, so I didn't. Suffice to say that the SAT I and the GRE are both scored on the same scale, and I scored lower on the GRE than I did on the SAT. It doesn't mean too much, I suppose, but I was surprised at the crazy vocabulary they had on the GRE verbal section. Being lazy, I didn't study, and figured I had enough vocabulary to make it through the test. I didn't do
bad, but I didn't do as well as I would have liked. Hitting words like
potentate,
superfluity, and
piquant really slowed me down. Hell, I still don't really know what the former or the latter mean. The one in the middle wasn't too hard to figure out, as it shares most of its letters with superfluous, but apparently I'm not the king of esoteric vocabulary.
I was disappointed to find that I did much worse on the verbal section than on the SAT, but strangely, I did better on the math section. Or perhaps I should call it the quantitative reasoning section. Hah. Oh, and the word obfuscate showed up on the test, more than once, and the only reason I knew what it meant was because of the
X-files. See, TV can be good for you! The reading comprehension questions were pretty rough as well, with the passages varying from esoteric art history to the developmental cycle of barnacles. I shit you not, this is all true. There was even a passage on the existence of heavy antiparticles and the search for so-called antistars. Christ, I thought I was well-read, but apparently I need to brush up. I didn't really have trouble,
per se, with the reading, but it actually made me think.
In retrospect, I probably should've done a tiny bit of studying of vocabulary, but that's all I could've done. The math section was all still pretty basic, although I haven't calculated the area of a triangle in literally years, so I had to dig pretty deep to figure that one out. But when they throw words like incommodius at you, a little study might have helped. I still don't know what that word means.
The cool thing about the GRE is that I took the whole thing on a computer, so I got to type my essays on a keyboard. Unfortunately, after using my natural keyboard for so long, using a normal keyboard started to hurt after about ten minutes. What's even cooler, though, is that your score is given to you right after you finish. It's unofficial, and doesn't include your essay score, but it's really neat to see your score instantly. If anyone's really curious (and I doubt you are), you can ask me what my score was, and I'll tell you. Now I'm going to go look up the word prosaic because I thought I knew what it meant, but now I'm not so sure.
It seems I'm taking the GRE in less than twelve hours. Perhaps I should have studied.
Nah.
Time for some ranting.
Let's start with all this Harry Potter craziness. Apparently it's got the most book presales, ever, and the author is worth more than the queen of freaking England. For reference, I've read a few pages of the first book, and I've seen the first movie. I don't hate Harry Potter, and in fact, I think it's great that kids are reading those books, because anything that gets them to read is a good thing. And from the little I read, they aren't bad books. Not bad, that is, if you're
ten.
Oh, but they're good, you say. It's no business of mine if you read on a fifth-grade level, but don't you try to tell me that the books are "good." Good literature includes
1984,
Catch-22,
Brave New World. It does not, however, include mental regurgitation like
Beloved or
Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man. Look, I'm not condemning you for what you read, nor do I particularly care. Hell, it's great that you can string together coherent sentences, but don't start celebrating just yet. Enjoyable Harry Potter may be, but I have far better things to do with my time, like cleaning my fingernails. You'll forgive me if I don't find children's literature entertaining. And yes, I am an elitist bastard, is that a problem?
Moving on, I have a new saying for you all.
The plural of anecdote is not data.
Ponder that for a moment. If you did not understand it, read it again. If you did, it needs no further explanation. I'm sick and tired of people saying, "That can't be true, why, I have this friend of a friend of a friend whose cousin did the exact opposite!" Yeah, well, that's great. I don't give a damn who did what when I want data. I just want data, not anecdotes. Simple statistics, people. Sample size, percent error, standard deviation, all that jazz. Let me give you a hint. When you have a sample size of one, your example means only two things: jack, and shit.
Furthermore, people, for the love of all that's holy, use your god-forsaken turn signals when you turn or change lanes. Did you think that the lever over to your left was there for decoration? Is it so hard? And by "use your turn signal," I don't mean start your turn and
then use it, as that is like punching someone in the face and then saying, "think fast!" It also doesn't mean "leave your turn signal on for fifteen minutes after you change lanes." It means, simply, signal for a few seconds, change lanes or turn, then turn it off until the next time you may need it. Now come over here so I can tell you to think fast.
"Think fast!"
Don't worry, the bruise will go away in a week or two.
Hah, this is awesome. I enjoyed the Matrix Reloaded movie, but it had some problems. I loved this
abridged script, so to speak, of the movie. Much enjoyment lies within. A particularly enjoyable excerpt follows below. The formatting is all jacked up, but I'm currently too lazy to fix it. Perhaps later. Or not.
INT. WELL-LIT, NON-NOIR WHITE ROOM
KEANU enters a white room, the walls of which are covered
in monitors. A chair spins around to reveal THE EXPLAINER.
KEANU REEVES
Who are you?
THE EXPLAINER
I am The Explainer. I designed the
matrix screenplay. Unable to
decently explain the convoluted plot
well, I have resorted to putting
myself here in the final act and
having you ask all of the questions
the audience wants to ask.
(dramatic pause)
You must begin by asking your own
questions then gradually switch to
asking those of the audience, in
order to not make this scene any
more awkward than it already is.
Concordantly, while your first
question may be the most pertinent,
you may or may not realize it is
also the most irrelevant.
KEANU REEVES
Why am I here?
THE EXPLAINER
Many years ago, shortly before the
success of Speed, you sold your soul
to the devil in exchange for a
promise of notoriety that your
piss-poor acting skills do not
deserve. This series is the
actualization of this promise.
KEANU REEVES
What was the Osiris? And who was
that kid in zion who kept pestering
me?
THE EXPLAINER
You will find the answers to these
questions by purchasing The
Animatrix, a collection of nine
animated shorts from some of Anime's
top directors.
KEANU REEVES
Alright. Well, what was that crap
Glora said about vampires and
werewolves? And how did Jada Pinkett
Smith get to Laurence Fishburne
during the car chase? And what the
hell happened during the power plant
takeover climax that-wasn't?
THE EXPLAINER
You will find the answers to those
questions by purchasing the Enter
The Matrix game, available for
Windows, Playstation2, Xbox, and
Gamecube. Enter the Matrix features
awesome gunplay and spectacular
martial arts that bend the rules of
the Matrix. This game isn't just
set in the Matrix universe--it's an
integral part of the experience,
with a story that weaves in and out
of The Matrix Reloaded. Enter the
Matrix is the story behind the
story.
KEANU REEVES
Fine! Then tell me this, what the
hell is with Hugo Weaving saying he
and I have some special connection?
And how come I can control machines
in the real world? And will we win
the war if I don't choose the door
to my right?
THE EXPLAINER
You will find the answers to these
questions when you watch The Matrix
Revolutions, coming later in 2003.
KEANU REEVES
I hate you.
THE EXPLAINER
Perhaps you should drink more
Powerade.
KEANU REEVES
Just answer me one question. We're
not going to find out that the real
world is in another matrix, are we?
THE EXPLAINER
Christ I hope not.
Now I could be cleaning all the crap I brought home, or preparing for my year-long trip to Japan, but instead, I'm going to post about nothing. Well, that's not exactly true, as I suppose it is technically something, but we're not going to split hairs here.
Today I went to get an eye exam because I accidentally broke one of my contacts, so I needed a replacement. My prescription might have gotten slightly worse, but it's hard to say. To test for glaucoma, I got those eye-numbing drops again. I don't like those things, but they're a hell of a lot better than that damn air puff that they used to use to test the pressure in your eye. What was stranger was the drops to dilate your eyes. I actually can't recall ever having it done, and I can't say that I particularly like it. You get very sensitive to light and for a few hours you can't quite focus. Everything is just a little blurry, which is quite annoying. I had to focus on objects by moving my entire head since my eye muscles were now apparently useless for that. I didn't like that much. It did look kinda cool, though, when my pupils were huge.
Let's see what I need to get done in a month and a half. Get (two, perhaps) a haircut, backup
all the files on my computer since I can't take it with me and I'm sure someone will break it while I'm gone, install Windows 2000 on my brother's computer, set up a wireless network in my house, get my student visa, try not to forget my Japanese, finish moving out of my apartment, take the GRE, and have a nervous breakdown. I could've sworn that two months was a long time, but a fourth of it is already over, and I haven't done a damn thing. Actually, I won't have a nervous breakdown because I'm too lazy to worry about little things like taking the GRE.
Sometimes I think I don't worry enough, but I'm so laid back that I can't worry about the fact that I never worry. I figure it's better that way anyway, since I know people that worry about not worrying, and that kind of scares me. It should scare them, but they're too busy worrying. Take life as it comes, I say.
Carpe diem and all that junk. We only get one chance at life, so why waste time worrying?
Actually, a good amount has happened, but I've been too lazy to actually type it up. A week ago or so, I went to a party, and was unable to drink due to the fact that I was driving. This was quite sad, as there's not much more frustrating than being surrounded by people (or more specifically, I suppose, girls that did not make me avert my eyes in terror, which is all I can hope for in Berkeley. I mean, did I say that?) and being unable to drink. Sure, I don't
need it, but it would've been more fun if I had been slightly tipsy, shall we say. The details are hazy, though, since it
was a week ago, roughly. I drove back at 4 in the morning, thinking I was fine, and discovering that after discharging my cargo of girls, I suddenly became much less alert.
The lesson to be learned here is that if you think you're alert at four in the morning, you're wrong. That reminds me of that time I drove back home in much the same state. I was about 20 miles from home, and then suddenly, I was 5 miles away. The freeway in between just disappeared, or something. One second, I was far away, the next, close. What happened in between? Good question. I don't remember a thing from that drive. What's the lesson there? Autopilot is amazing. I was half-asleep for practically the entire drive, yet I didn't wrap my car around a light pole or shorten my front end by tapping it into some concrete. The brain is an amazing thing. The other lesson we must learn from this is to never tell stories like this to your parents. They don't tend to think it's as funny as your friends might.
On Monday I drove down to the LA area to see some friends. The day before, in a fit of insanity, I jogged through our local park. I learned two things that day. One, my knee is still in no shape to be running around. Two,
always plan ahead. I'm not going to elaborate because I'd rather not dwell on what happened, but suffice to say that lack of planning leads to bad things. Or perhaps when people forget things. Or rather, when
other people forget things. Anyway.
The next day (that's Tuesday, for those of you keeping track), I went to the Getty Center, which, for those who didn't know, is a massive museum on a hill overlooking the smog-filled LA basin. I've been told that on good days you can actually see the water. Humans were not meant to live in deserts, much less carcinogenic ones. Sure, it's a bit colder in the Bay Area. Builds character. The Getty Center was mildly interesting, but I'm not at a point where I can stare at paintings for that long, no matter how well they were painted. Rembrant? Even if I spelled it correctly, isn't that the toothpaste or something? I'm being facetious, in case you were ready to take your paintbrush and stab me in my unenlightened eye with it.
I came back up here Thursday, and promptly collapsed. That's a lot of driving. I think I'm recovered now, but I had some great fun driving to Berkeley to pick up my paycheck. That's an hour's drive. Sure, it was for money, but I got less done there than I had hoped. Stupid clinic was closed. Go figure, it was Saturday, but still. Now I have to either drive to Berkeley
again to drop it off, or I have to mail my health insurance waiver in. Now that I've ended my sentence with a preposition, the grammar gestapo are going to break down my door, but I'm ready for them. I've got predicate nominatives and I'm not afraid to use them! I've even got interjections and dare I say, epithets all ready to go. Someone remind me to rant about grammar sometime, as my writing ability is leaving me as I type. No really, remind me, I'll forget.
It's not even midnight, and I'm beat. Driving for a total of probably 15 hours in the space of four days can do that to you. But that's a story for a time when I'm a bit more conscious. Actually, there is a lot that I haven't gotten to, and while I'd like to hit it all in chronological order, I don't know if that will happen, simply because of my atrocious memory. If I remember your name, much less where I even met you, take it as a good sign that I don't think you suck. And I think a lot of people suck, because they do. That's not the point, though.
Before getting to the bevy of links I have at my disposal, I'd like to briefly detour into the realm of introspection. Or perhaps not so much introspection as musing upon the state of society. I've talked before at length about power imbalances in any personal relationship, but I probably oversimplified. It's not as simple as examining who comes to who or who makes the decisions. There is a whole lot that comes from body langauge and how a person carries themselves. Furthermore, when in a relationship (note that this word is being used in the more general sense, referring to the bond between any two people, not necessarily, and usually not, romantic), when the power-sharing is roughly equal, the situation is actually best for both parties. While it is nice to dominate another, it is not the same as just having fun. Being in a position of power necessarily brings with it responsibility. Some may not care or pay attention to the lives they are crushing under their heel, but they should.
It may be a bit idealistic to posit that people should hold to certain ideals in how they treat others and that we should not shirk our responsibilities, but I don't really care. That's just how I see it, and if you don't like it, you're obviously a self-absorbed fascist baby-killer. That's right, a fascist one.
I'd expand further, but my writing skills have been thoroughly exhausted, and to continue would be the height of hubris, and would lead to nothing good.
Let's start with the mildly interesting. Apparently Egypt has
banned the Matrix Reloaded for being "too religious." It also said that the movie dealt with religious issues, and that "Such religious issues, raised in previous times, caused crises." Also, in spite of almost universally panned by critics and fans alike for dropping the proverbial ball and not picking it up, the movie has
broken the box office record in Japan and has also
broken the worldwide record for second week sales by making over $100 million in countries outside of the US in its second week. It still remains to be seen whether the film can beat Spiderman, which is one of the highest grossing films of all time, beaten out only by such juggernauts as Gone With the Wind and Titanic. However, at this rate, it is well on its way.
For the geeky, you can read (and see) what exactly happens if you
spin a CD too fast. Too fast being a theoretical maximum of 35000 RPM, which translates into 175X speed. At that speed, the outside edge of the CD would be flying along at roughly 492 mph. Just go to the site, and download the videos if you can. Tell me how they were, since I am suffering on dial-up. From the sound of it, though, they must be pretty cool, if they can capture the CDs shattering into shards of 300+ mph plastic.
In yet another example of why no one likes Americans, well, read the
article. The short version goes something like this. American tries to break high-altitude golfing record, falls on a Brit, breaks the Brit's leg, runs away, Brit crawls down mountain with one good leg, is saved by other climbers who happen to not be American. It's no wonder we're all stereotyped. Our representatives suck.
I saved the best for last. Don't read the article if you're squeamish. I'm serious. I didn't have a problem with it, but some people may. Be warned, it contains material that concerns
baboons, babies, and brains. It is also apparently unconfirmed, so it may not be entirely true, but what a story. I mean, damn.
So it wasn't tomorrow. More has happened in the time between this and my last post than I expected, and I don't know if I'll get to it all, but I'll try. First off, I shall get to my mini-review of
The Italian Job, which, as it so happens, is a remake. I wasn't alive with the birth of movies as an entertainment medium, so I never saw this alleged original, but apparently Mark Wahlberg (or however you spell his name) didn't do the movie justice with his criminal-with-a-heart-of-gold piece. He played pretty much the same character in
The Big Hit, but I have to say, while Charlize Theron is quite nice, I prefer the girl in the aforementioned movie, although I have no idea what her name is, and I've never seen her in any other movies. She is (or was, I suppose) quite hot, though.
But I digress. The movie, from the standpoint of never having seen the original, was a pretty typical heist movie, with some light suspense aspects thrown in for flavor. It was not a bad movie,
per se, but it was entertainingly mediocre, much like many of Marky Mark-- I mean, Mark Wahlberg's movies. Character development was very light, action was good but not great, and I was never really bored, but I wouldn't pay money to see it again, if you get me. It was also a huge commercial for Cooper Minis, as seen by the fact that one of the main characters drives one and the fact that they are used in the chase sequence. Those are some small cars.
To sum up: Don't pay full price for this movie unless you want to make it part of your night for whatever reason. Go see the matinee, or get a student discount, or just wait until some poor impulsive bastard buys the DVD. Watch it, be entertained for a few hours, go back to your life.
On to more current material. I have a topic all ready to rant about, but I'm not in the ranting frame of mind, so I'll save it for later.
I had wanted to post a comparison between seasons 1 and 2 of the best show on television, 24, but I don't think I can fully evaluate season 2 until I see season 3. Instead, I'll just turn into a raving fanboy. If you've heard me talking about the show, you'll know that I have an affection for it that may be described as "obsessive." I don't see it that way, but I know that not being able to see the third season of 24 nearly causes me physical pain. Be warned, if you have not watched 24, there are
spoilers below, and you should not, nay, you
must not read any farther, for you will spoil the plot and then the experience of watching them.
If you're reading farther, that means you've seen the show, right? If you haven't seen it,
stop reading. I'm watching you!
I actually watched the seasons out of order, starting with season 2 first. Watching that season practically forced me to buy the first season on DVD, and I don't regret it at all, now that I've watched all of it. I already knew the big points of the season because of how season 2 started, but the journey, even to a known destination, was still an amazing ride. I can't imagine the shock it must have been to find out that Nina was the insider. I already knew, of course, because she was in jail in the second season, but even knowing that, I didn't pick up many hints as to her traitorous status.
As for why I love the show so much, it has a lot to do with the writing. The writers avoid
deus ex machina problems pretty well, and the pacing of the show is nearly perfect. The real-time aspect of the show adds a ton to the suspense of situations, and they even seem to have relatively realistic gun battles. The music works perfectly to set the mood, and Keifer Sutherland is a great actor, as is the guy who plays the Senator/President. Both of them exude authority through their pores, and have stares that could make almost anyone look away. Perhaps the only annoying thing about the show is Kim Bauer, played by the beautiful Elisha Cuthbert. She seems to always get into trouble, even in situations where it shouldn't be possible. The only thing she seems to be good at is getting into trouble. She shows moments of brilliance and courage, but those moments quickly pass. It is indicative of a larger issue that the writers seem to have with women. With one or two exceptions, women are portrayed in the world of 24 as evil, manipulative, incompetent, or just plain stupid. Then again, aside from Jack and Palmer, the guys don't fare much better. Palmer is a man of such strong character as to make me feel small and inferior in comparison. He holds principles and doesn't violate them. Especially in the first season, you see he weather all kinds of pressure to bend his morals to fit someone else's agenda -- he refuses, and in a strange turn, is rewarded for sticking to his principles. I suppose that's because Jack is the one having the worst day of his life. Palmer's day is a close second, but it is doubtful that anyone could have a day worse than Jack's.
I think this shall be the point where the
spoilers end.
A quick note about the first season of 24: Saugus is mentioned for various reasons, and I found that kind of funny, for reasons only a few people probably understand.
And instead of ranting, I'll post stolen content from
Sinfest, a great webcomic. The guy who does it periodically posts random bits of text that are sometimes strokes of genius. He doesn't update them often, but I enjoy them when they change. The most recent one as of this post can be seen below. I think it's a great way to end my post. Read on, and be entertained.
Movie Idea: Neo and John Connor join forces to fight the war against the machines. After an intense rave/orgy, they make plans for the upcoming battle. At the same time, the Matrix and Skynet sign a multi-billion dollar merger, spelling certain doom for the human resistance. After an intense rave/orgy, the corporate giants start production on a new line of Arnold Agents and Smith-inators. Meanwhile, back at the X-Mansion, Professor X uses Cerebro to notify all the mutants in the world about the upcoming Mutant Rave-o-thon Celebration 2003. After much Kung Fu, car chases, and explosions, everyone dies and meets God, who turns out to be Jim Carrey. "Alllllrighty then," says God, flanked by a cadre of Charlie's Angels. "Let's get this party started." And Neo's like, "God, why are you speaking through your buttocks?"
