http://search.deviantart.com/?q=by:repoman2112&section=today deviantART RSS for by:repoman2112 en-us Copyright 2009, deviantART.com Thu, 10 Dec 2009 14:43:02 PST deviantART.com http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss http://s.deviantart.com/minish/widgets/apple-touch-icon-precomposed.png http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/25851620/ http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/25851620/ Fri, 10 Jul 2009 01:35:25 PDT Released in 1980, the original film takes place at the infamous Crystal Lake, a summer camp with an urban legend past. Year prior, a young camper named Jason Voorhees drowned in the nearby lake as horny teen counselors did what comes naturally(i.e., sex.) The entire camp was found murdered, leading the local yokels to nickname the site "Camp Blood." Several years later, the camp is reopened, much to the chagrin of the aforementioned locals. As the campers arrive, the new teen counselors begin to get killed by an unseen madman, often in conjunction with their indulgence in sex and the partaking of drugs. The deaths escalate and the tension tightens until the final moments when the killer, and their motive, is revealed.
Along with John Carpenter's "Halloween", "Friday The 13th" wrote the rulebook for the slasher movie, a sub-genre of exploitative thrillers thinly disguised as morality tales. The characters were usually made up of the broadest of archetypes; The jock, the slutty girl(s), the stoner, the outsider(punk, metal kid, goth, etc.), and of course, the "Final Girl"--the sole innocent of the group who inevitably escaped death. The slasher formula resulted in quite a few classics, but sadly was turned to parody by it's own sodomizing, it's unwillingness to experiment with the mold.
The new "Friday" starts by spoiling the originals climatic twist ending almost immediately before jumping to the present day. We meet our doomed teens hiking by the nefarious Crystal Lake. After the ham-handed campfire exposition, the gang quickly breaks off to: A)Have gratuitous sex and B) wander onto a rundown cabin and snoop around inside. A few obvious cat scares and one "Night Ranger" sing-a -long later, things end badly. Then the opening title card finally appears. Twenty three minutes on the clock and the movie has officially begun.
This chunk of the movie, which plays more as underwritten filler than story, also introduces another main character: Jason's pot garden. At some point, the serial slasher formed quite the taste for marijuana, harvesting a stash that would give Tommy Chong the munchies on sight alone.
Several weeks later(or as I call it, "Even more present day") we meet a new batch of kids, including the obligatory Asian stoner/comic relief and the racially sensitive black guy, along with the token sluts and jock A-holes. We also get a weak link to the opening act in the form of Clay (played by Jared Padalecki from TV's "Supernatural".) He shows up in town looking for his sister Whitney, the non-slut from the extended opening, who is now being held hostage in Jason's underground lair(Huh?).
Re-teaming from their previous collaboration on the god-awful remake to "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre", Bay, along with director Marcus Nispel and cinematographer Daniel Pearl have constructed a by-the-numbers and completely un-engaging motion picture. Characters are given zero backstory and no inkling of sympathy. Nispel's direction is dull and fails at the relatively simple task of staging decent deaths and nude scenes, the staples of the genre. Daniel Pearl, who never met a stage light he couldn't dim out of existence, photographs every scene as if he were creating mood lighting for a blind person.
The slasher movie genre may have never been genius, but it certainly deserves better than this.

]]> ~repoman2112 http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/20679018/ http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/20679018/ Thu, 25 Sep 2008 23:49:16 PDT Musicians becoming actors is not unusual. From Frank Sinatra to Mick Jagger to Fergie, the roads of film history are paved with many such accounts. Varied results aside, the urge to break out into another medium is a very human characteristic. The frumpy wish to look fabulous, the poor want to be rich, the rich yearn to be slightly richer. Not wanting to look foolish, most stick to what they do best. Mrs. Spears, however, has yet to discover what that is.
In Crossroads, Britney plays Lucy, a vacuous and valedictorian-y high school student; a girl next door. She holds resentment towards her father, Pete(Dan Aykroyd, turning in another dull role)who pushed her to study at the expense of her living a full and productive(readointless sex)high school career. Like all stereotypically oppressive movie parents, he just wants what's best for his little girl, i.e., pushing his own unfulfilled hopes and dreams on her.
Adding to this blistering high drama of teen soap proportions is the fact that she has fallen out of touch with her childhood friends Mimi and Kit(Taryn Manning and Zoe Soldana playing white-trash, pregnant outcast and token black bitch, respectively). After some Dawson's Creek-flavored graduation shenanigans, the girls decide to unearth an old shoe box of dreams they buried back when they were kids.
The lot of them reluctantly agree to a road trip to California together to serve all of their selfish aspirations--Kit to visit her long-distance boyfriend, Lucy to visit her estranged mother and Mimi--the optimist--to land a record deal in LA and in the process, reconnect with her disenchanted friends. From that point on, the movie becomes a breakneck hodge-podge of car breakdowns, karaoke throw-downs, uber-femme overacting and of course, trips to the waffle house.
Directed with generic aplomb by Tamra Davis--best known for her television work and dopey comedies like Billy Madison and Half-baked--Crossroads is at least as bad as either of those pictures. Mrs. Davis is, however, smart enough to get Mrs. Spears in her underpants twice within the first ten minutes of the show. Gotta pull in the kids somehow, and a teenage boy spank-fest will always pull in rentals.
The film fails spectacularly at every turn, not even showcasing the stars already limited talents to their extent. Her voice is too plain to sell any of the songs she is forced to belt out(including a highly butchered version of the 1980's anthem "I love rock and roll") and her acting talent is best described by not mentioning it at all. By the time the end credits mercifully roll, you almost wish that Ralph Macchio had been in the movie.

]]> ~repoman2112 http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/18776538/ http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/18776538/ Wed, 11 Jun 2008 00:41:26 PDT
1. Be sure to label your Journal "ILU" firstly.

2. Pick 2-5 of your friends you hold high as best buds or close people you love.

3. Display their icons or names and say something nice about each one of them. No limits on how much you say.

4. Say something they've done or do for you also. Include as many hearts as you want!

5. At the end of your "ILU" shout, tag 1-5 people to do this in their journal as well! Spread the love!

6. Be honest too. >:C

-----------------------------------------------------

My sister. And not in some friendly "you is like my sista" sort of way, I mean my actual one. She's an awesome artist(check her out, kids!)on top of being a great person. I'd like to think I'm saying that because she is a unique and interesting individual, not just because we're related. But you never know. Love ya, sis.


My best friend in the whole world. This guy introduced me to so many cool things and shaped my personality. I've said in the past that if we both didn't love chicks so much, I'd totally go gay for the man. I don't think he visits this site anymore(working towards a PHd will do that for you).


An artistic soul aged far beyond her years, this chick is awesome. She is a great writer and has a wonderfully irreverent style about her. Plus she's Canadian, which puts her a step up in my book. I love the girl's spirit and am glad to call her one of my pals.


A great little photographer and a spitfire of an Aussie gal. She's a metal chick and is cute as a button, too. I see great things for her in the future.

I tag--




]]> ~repoman2112 http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/17874128/ http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/17874128/ Wed, 16 Apr 2008 01:23:03 PDT
One of the unwritten laws of the universe states that Godzilla© must be played by a man in a rubber suit. I’m not making this up, it’s scripture. Should this commandment be broken, the world would collapse upon itself and any semblance of a normal society would break down. The universe would fall into a deep abyss that not even Chuck Norris could rescue us from. In other words, utter chaos. Anyone who remembers the terrible 1998 American remake of the Big G can attest to that.

Besides classic Universal horror films such as Frankenstein and The Wolfman, the Big G is what people most identify with when you talk about monster movies. Of course, what people forget is that for it’s time, the 1954 film of Godzilla© a fairly serious cautionary tale against nuclear testing and it’s effects on the environment. What he’s most remembered for is silly wrasslin’ matches with other rubber suited beasties, laying waste to scale models of Tokyo. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

At some point, the focus slowly shifted away from the grim casualties of the original to good old fashioned smashing stuff--scale models and functioning toy tanks were shown no mercy. The change in ethics wasn't that hard to understand, most people go to the movies to be entertained, not preached to. And watching a guy in a big lizard suit beating the stuffing out of buildings is pretty damn entertaining. No one cares much for the human characters in a Big G flick because, let’s face it, Godzilla© and his rouge’s gallery of creature friends are more interesting than us. Which is exactly the problem with a movie like Cloverfield.

Produced by J.J. Abrams, known for his TV shows like Lost, the movie takes place in New York, following a group of disposable 20-somethings as they throw one of their friends a going away party. The entire film unfolds through the point of view of one of the party goers videotaping the events as they occur, bringing to mind The Blair Witch Project from a few years back. Unfortunately for them--and us, since we're stuck with them--a gigantic monster shows up and lays waste to the greater Manhattan area.

Cloverfield is basically an exercise in flipping the middle finger to anyone who enjoys giant monster movies, and movies in general, for that matter. Imagine a Godzilla© movie where you never see Godzilla© and you start to get the idea of how irritating it is to watch the film. What we get instead of good old fashioned destruction is a non-existant plot that hinges on rescuing a guy’s girlfriend who may or may not hate his guts(assuming they haven't been stomped out of her).

Explosions happen all around but the camera perspective is to shaky to witness any of it. Entire action scenes are obscured by objects in the foreground and the videotaping character "being too scared" to look at it. The creature is scarcely seen, save for a few panic-stricken passing glances, at which point the thing looks more like a giant Kermit the frog than anything else.

It even manages to muck up the "found footage" conceit--originated by Cannibal Holocaust, not Blair Witch as many think--by splicing in earlier taped "backstory" with the explaination of, oh, well, crappy cameras do that. I have an old camcorder, and never once during playback has it ever jumped back and forth between present day and 2 months ago. Cheap plot device or not, that’s dirty pool the filmmakers are playing at.

The movie is like living having bad plumbing that causes you to glance back in the bowl to see if the waste has flushed, at once uncomfortable and insulting. What they should have done was screen The Host instead, an excellent south korean monster movie directed by Bong Joon-ho, instead of bothering with this half digested effort. Hell, even the worst of the Godzilla movies(often featuring the infant moppit Godzuke) would have made a fine substitution. At least that would have been entertaining.

]]> ~repoman2112 http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/17295083/ http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/17295083/ Wed, 12 Mar 2008 00:18:54 PDT Being derivative for the sake of creativity is nothing new--most horror movies for the past 30 years have been cloning Halloween and Alien; there are more remakes than original movies being made by Hollywood; Quentin Tarantino wouldn't have a career had he not made his own foul-mouthed riff of City On Fire.
Success breeds imitation; if it worked once, why not try it twenty more times? The Ring/The Grudge/Dark Water, Flashdance/Footloose/Honey--you get the idea. And now, as chance has it, one of the best cult TV shows ever made is being riffed on by a new generation of chuckle-heads.
It's name is Incognito Cinema Warriors XP.
In 1988, Joel Hodgson, a stand up comedian from Minnesota, created what would become Mystery Science Theater 3000. The concept of the show was simple and brilliant; A working class guy is launched into space by a pair of mad scientists and forced to watch bad movies in the hopes to drive him, and eventually us, insane. Luckily for Joel, he is able to construct a number of robot friends to help him make fun of said crappy movies.
Finding a home at the newly formed station Comedy Central, the show became the channels' benchmark program overnight(Okay, maybe not completely overnight, but work with me here; I'm trying to condense for time). But as love affairs often do, the relationship ultimately soured. New management demanded the show be shortened to make room for extra commercials. With neither party willing to back down, the ensuing feud wrecked havoc on the programming schedule. After only seven episodes into it's seventh season, the show was canceled. A theatrical version was also made for Universal Studios, but did very poorly at the time due to lackluster advertising by the film company.
The show was picked up for three more seasons by the Sci-Fi network before it was once again let go. The series' final show was broadcast in the summer of 1999, with reruns finally ceasing nearly four years later.
A good idea never dies, which is evidenced by the recent resurgence of every one of the main MST3K cast members in one form or another. Head writer Mike Nelson, along with writer/performers Kevin Murphy and Bill Corbett headline Rifftrax, a downloadable movie riffing service. Creator Joel Hodgson is joined by writers Trace Beaulieu, Frank Coniff, Mary Jo Pehl and Josh Weinstein at Cinematic Titanic, a much more interesting(and funny)concept, echoing the original spirit of the show.
And then there's these guys on myspace who call themselves the Incognito Cinema Warriors XP...

]]> ~repoman2112 http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/13964765/ http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/13964765/ Wed, 01 Aug 2007 00:54:04 PDT
I started reading comics back in the '80's because I loved The Transformers. I would drag my dad--and his wallet--to the Duncanville Bookstore so I could keep up with the continuing adventures of my Cybertronian pals. Much to my shock and delight, the TF comics were significantly darker and violent than the TV show ever was ( They killed off poor Optimus Prime a lot sooner in the continuity ).

After that series died, I drifted in and out of comics for a while. Ultimatly, writer/director Kevin Smith pulled me back into the fold with his story arcs for the Daredevil and Green Arrow books. Say what you will about the man, but he can write dialog like no other.

And then there was Josh.

Josh Howard took the indie comics world by storm a couple of years back with a little series called Dead @ 17. With a cover baring nothing more than a girl adorned in a schoolgirl uniform and holding a bloody axe, it was a far cry from the big pecs/big boobs territory that the field has become known for. Mr. Howard's book stood out from the pack because it contained an atribute that is becoming harder and harder to come by: It was simple.

The story of Dead @ 17 is at once easy to tell, yet difficult to ultimately summarize. The main character, Nara, is your typical high school girl with all the drama that implies. She's the cute punker girl next door. And then, in Psycho horror movie fashion, she is killed at the end of the first act. Days later, she returns from the dead for an epic battle with zombies, demons and the ultimate evil.

Brimming with references to horror films like The Evil Dead and Friday The 13th all the way to The Incredible Hulk TV show, the book struck a chord with those who read comics. The art was lovely and crisp; the story was filled with characters you could care about. Not to mention that Howard can draw cute punk girls like you wouldn't believe.

But before all of that, to me he was just Josh. I met him through another friend of ours when we shared a band together. I remember him as being a quiet and cool fellow, with a healthy dose of oddness about him. Kind of like me. He was a good guy who loved Mystery Science Theater and Star Wars. Plus, he was a great bass player.

To be honest, I never knew what Josh thought of me. In my mind he was cool, but I could never gauge wheither the guy gave two craps about me. Apparently I was wrong, because when I met him again at the comic shop signing--sans underpants flinging fangirls--he was all smiles. We talked like we hadn't missed a day over the last 10 years. Despite his new found celebrity, he's still an awesome guy to be around. And while some may jump to call him an icon, i'm glad to just call him a friend.

Both Josh and his work can be found at the following:

[link]
[link]
[link]

]]> ~repoman2112 http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/13171692/ http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/13171692/ Fri, 01 Jun 2007 02:45:13 PDT
I have a soft spot for cartoons, particularly ones from the 1980's. It was a great time to be a kid; there were no responsibilities, little stress and there was a McDonald's within walking distance. This is of course looking back at it through nostalgic glasses. Were I to remove the frames, I could see that all was indeed not well in the state of Oak Cliff. But I like living in the blind spot so I'll keep the glasses on, thank you very much.

The 80's were a golden age for cartoons. They were all there; The Smurfs, The Snorks, Heathcliff, Garfield, Ghostbusters, The Real Ghostbusters, M.A.S.K. and The Centurians, too. As good as they were, they were still lightweights next to the big three; G.I. Joe--a NRA wet dream of a cartoon, He-man--a goofy loincloth and butt shot orgy of muscles and battle for the universe, and my favorite, The Transformers--defenders of their adopted home planet of earth.

In a distant galaxy, the noble Autobots are engaged in an ongoing war with the evil Decepticons over control of their home planet of Cybertron. Both sides are on the verge of losing since their world has been nearly depleted of Energon, the source of the robots' power. The warring sides launch off into space in starships in the hopes of finding a new form of energy. During a dogfight, both ships are caught in a nearby planet's gravitational pull. The planet is Earth.

After crash landing into a inactive volcano and under the sea, respectively, the 'bots lie dormant through the prehistoric eras. Their ships' onboard computers come back online in the present day--circa 1984--and send out probes to explore the terrain. Data is researched and 'bots are reassembled. They are also given the ability to transform into vehicles and items to blend in with their surroundings, hence " The Transformers " .

The Autobots, led by the heroic Optimus Prime, befriend humans Sparkplug and his son Spike, who in turn help our heroes search for energy and a way back home. Megatron and his Decepticons, the big meanies that they are, come upon a similar conclusion and begin to suck the earth's natural resources dry for conversion into energon cubes. A familiar war begins anew on alien ground.

As a child, I was fascinated by the Transformers universe, even going so far as to skip Sunday school just to watch the episodes when they repeated. In 1986 when the animated movie came out, I--along with a generation of youngsters--cried like babies when they killed off Optimus Prime and the others in order to make way for the new toys. A part of us died that day along with the heroes of Cybertron. Prime came back, but the scar stayed with us for years.

Now in the summer of 2007, some 20 years after the fact, director Michael Bay intends to reopen that wound like an unsympathetic nurse ripping off a band aid just as it had started to heal. Mr. Bay has been responsible for some of the most loud and expensive summer movies of all time, such as both Bad Boys movies, Pearl Harbor, Armageddon and most recently, The Island.

Some of the original 'bots return for this latest popcorn event, such as Optimus Prime, looking nothing like themselves. Many of them even transform into different things, thus diminishing their main character traits. Tiny Bumblebee who used to change into a VW bug is now a flashy sports car. Megatron, once menacing and fearful who turned into a gun, now looks more like an alien from the movie Alien bred with a retarded dinosaur from Jurassic Park.

Michael Bay is the beast behind the firearm that will kill off my most cherished childhood memory this summer. And as my nostalgic grey matter splatters against the wall in a blast of CGI induced buckshot, the summer will go on. School will still be out, girls will still wear their bikini's and movies will still be seen. And a generation of boys and girls will sit huddled in a corner, crying over an old scar that was not allowed to heal.

]]> ~repoman2112 http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/13092748/ http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/13092748/ Fri, 25 May 2007 19:10:10 PDT
In many ways, Chris was much more cultured than I was. He could absorb poetry and prose on a deeper level than I could. He had the patience and brain power to endure hours upon hours of role playing games. Not to mention that he was instrumental in my appreition of british comedies.

Growing up, my dad would always watch Dr. Who, Are You Being Served? and many other BBC shows that I had very little interest in. I just chalked it up to being " dad stuff " . When I discovered that Chris liked many of these same shows, it dawned on me that my dad wasn't the only looney watching this stuff. Granted, it was a hard sell, but the brits eventually won me over. The same could not be said about Bill Shakespeare.

The albatros hanging around the neck of every movie is the time clock. That's why you see so many mainstream flicks timed no longer than two hours. If you go longer than that, you start to get into " ass-blaster " territory; when the urge to stand up and exercise your numb hindquarters outweighs whatever lofty cinematic goals you have set for yourself.

There are exceptions, of course; Fight Club was 139 minutes of pure subversive fun, Pulp Fiction was 154 minutes long and it was one of the staples of '90's cinema. But this week comes an ass-blaster--and all that that implies--of a film that boggles the mind: Pirates of the Caribbean 3.

After raking in close to a gajillion dollars at the box office, we have now come to the final chapter in this epic exercise in nonsense. I will admit that the first movie was much better than in it should have been--due in no small part to the character of Jack Sparrow; played with drunken, insane and possibly gay gusto by Johnny Depp. He, along with a stick figure of a woman ( Keira Knightly ) and another possibly gay swashbuckler ( Orlando Bloom ) head out on the high seas after a group of cursed zombie pirates. Sounds stupid when you say it out loud, doesn't it?

The film was an exercise in pure popcorn entertainment. It was two and a half hours of brainless, fluffy nonsense that somehow made the afore mentioned gajillion bucks--or dubloons--making it certain that a part two would follow. And follow it did, only this time with a heightened sense of importance.

The airy silliness of part one was replaced by a covoluted plot that Elmore Leonard would have a hard time sorting through. And what of Mr. Sparrow, the saving grace of the first picture? Well, they put him in the background and gave him much less interesting stuff to do, of course! Two and a half more hours of life down the drain.

The third--or is that " turd " --arrives to tie up all the loose ends and make at least a quagallion bucks. This time you can expect two hours and forty five minutes of ass-blasting agony, as well as--from what early test screenings indicate--a much more confusing plot. This silly idea based on a Disney Land park ride has been elevated to epic stature by the filmmakers.

We all know that the film will make money, even as the critics sharpen their knifes to try and ensure that it doesn't. But maybe we're all hanging too much importance on this passing fancy. After all, it ain't Shakespeare.

]]> ~repoman2112 http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/12995564/ http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/12995564/ Thu, 17 May 2007 23:41:11 PDT
For a guy, getting whacked in the genitals is about as painfull as you can get. It happened to me once; didn't care for it much. For the ladies who don't get what all the fuss is about, let's break it down. Imagine someone walking up to you and punching you in the chest. Not some little love tap; I mean they make a fist and slug you smack dab in the boob. Not so funny now, is it?

But it does get the funny. So much so that pop-culture leans heavily on the male Achilles heel as a punch line. The quality " family " program " America's Funniest Home Videos " owes it's entire existence to the nut-shot. The film " Scary Movie 3 " --besides not being the least bit funny--has guys getting hit in the mess roughly every ten minutes to keep the audience awake.

And then there's a little movie called " Roadhouse " , whose level of crotch abuse is second only to porn.

For those unfamiliar, " Roadhouse " is the story of Dalton--one name, like Madonna--the toughest bar bouncer in the history of bar bouncers. He's so tough that he barely reacts to a drunk slashing him in the arm with a knife. He also holds a PhD in philosophy from New York University. So not only does Dalton know the nature of man, but the nature of kicking that man's ass.

Dalton is recruited to clean up a rowdy small town bar owned by perfect-toothed Frank Tilghman. The town is not only home the bar known as the " Double Duece " , but one car lot, one shack of a general store and two houses; one of which belongs to local villain Brad Wesley. What follows is a non-stop thrill ride of pointless bar brawls, shirtless rednecks and blatant homo eroticism.

The go-to fight move in " Roadhouse " is a flat-out fist to the nuts. I've never been in a fight but as a guy, going straight for the balls with your hand--closed fist or no--seems a little strange to me. It becomes so comical at one point that a character is kneed in the sack by a large stuffed bear, resulting in one of the strangest nut-shots ever committed to film.

Although the movie seems unaware of it, " Roadhouse " comes across as a gay comedy of sorts. How else can you explain sex scenes where the men are more naked than their lady counterparts? Or when toothy Mr. Tilghman looks up and down Dalton's shirtless, tight-pants wearing body and utters the line " I thought you'd be bigger " ?

As for the future of comedy, I don't think the envelope needs to be constantly pushed. We don't always need to have semen in the hair or teens having carnal relations with fruit pies to get a chuckle. In the day and age of " South Park " where anything goes for the sake of a laugh, I take pleasure in being able to enjoy the comedic high road. Like Dalton punching a guy in the nuts.

]]> ~repoman2112 http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/10885839/ http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/10885839/ Wed, 29 Nov 2006 01:27:32 PST
One thing that have never changed, however, is the use of the dreaded N-word. Since I was a kid going to elementary school in Oak Cliff, which is largely a hispanic and black driven neighborhood, I was told that word was a no-no. Years later, my dad said it once talking about Eddie Murphy, and took me a moment to recover from it. Yes, we've all heard Chris Rock and Redd Foxx use the word, but it is their word. They can use it. Showtime at the Apollo wouldn't exist if it weren't for that word.

Michael Richards, the comic best known as Kramer from a little show called Seinfield dropped a whole lot of N-bombs at a comedy club in L.A.,. If you stink as a stand-up comic, the crowd is going to let you know it it the form of heckling. You can deal with it by A) ignoring it and moving on, or B) send light jabs back at them. Kramer chose to turn the jabs into nut-shots felt the world over.

He has stated in various venues how sorry he is and that he " didn't know where those words came from " . His buddy Jerry Seinfeld even came to his defense, which I'm sure had nothing to do with the fact that another season of their show just came out on dvd. Richard's made a bigger fool of himself when he refered to the people in question as " afro americans " . I think he's got a problem with hate.
Watch the video: [link]
and decide for yourself.

]]> ~repoman2112 http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/9593447/ http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/9593447/ Fri, 04 Aug 2006 01:02:29 PDT
The Adult Swim block of programming on The Carton Network started it's run as a showcase for some of the Japanese anime show that were a little too intense in tone to be shown during the daytime when when all the little kiddies were awake. Over time, however, the timeslot has become famous as much for it's barrage of original shows as for it's imported ones. A few of the shows like Robot Chicken and The Venture Brothers have stood out, but for the most part the shows are more known for their bargin basement animation and toilet humor than for their interest in their own longevity. Much like the original movies made for the SciFi channel, they tend to dismiss their own products' lack of quality and yet are unwilling to spend the funds to improve upon them.

Enter The Boondocks: The story of two urban youths who are transported from their ghettos to an upscale suburban enviroment by their grandfather. The two brothers' personalities are polar oposites from one another- Riley, the younger of them, is atypical in his embracing of the gangsta culture and the mob rules mentality, while Huey is the intellectual, both philosophical and political while toying with militant conspiricies. Based on the controversial comic strip by Aaron McGruder, this fish out of water premise is fertile ground for which to satirize relations of both race and gender, pop-culture, politics and just about everything else inbetween. McGruder is not afraid to further polarize the already segregated audience by taking the time to interupt the action to make statments along the lines of " You know, we could all be reading a book right now. " . It's often during these quiet moments of solace and self-reflection that the show is at it's best.

As a white male, in some ways I find myself to be just as much of an outsider as they are in their own transplanted universe. The word " Nigga " , the dreaded N-word is used so often at times that it rivals the use of the word " Dude " in my own races' obnoxious vernacular. The fact that on the surface The Boondocks is a black show doesn't matter at all, for it's what the show has to say about life in general that's the order of the day. Take off the color filter and it's all about what we do and say to one another and the results of those actions.

The Boondocks is arguably the best show that Adult Swim has had to offer since it's inception.: It looks the best ( The animation is flawless ) , the humor has a very edgy zing to it but not so much that it just becomes pointless drivel ( I'm talking to you, Aqua Teen Hunger Force ) , and best of all it's a show about something and not just a colorful distraction. In this way, this is a cartoon that is far from being " just kid's stuff " . ]]> ~repoman2112 http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/8677686/ http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/8677686/ Fri, 05 May 2006 01:05:50 PDT To turn on the tv or to open up the paper is to see that things are clearly in the crapper. War. Record high gas prices. Internet predators. Uber right-wing politics. Our president is a retarded pigf**ker ( yes, that IS the nice version... ) .
Ladies and gentlemen, we are circling in the bottom of the bowl as we speak, and there doesn't seem to be anything we can do about it. What we need is a hero. What we need is a shoulder to lean on. We need a ying to to the malevolent yang that is 21st century living thus far. We need someone, or group of someones, to pick up the metaphorical jacks. A group of noble men and women to gather up our collective marbles and place them back safely into the burlap sack of righteousness. What we need is a saviour. What we need is Mystery Science Theater 3000.

Yes, Mystery Science Theater 3000, the best tv show ever created that explored the exploits of a lowly janitor launched into space to watch bad movies with his handmade robot friends as part of a nefarious plan by a mad scientist to eventually take over the world.

It all started back in 1988 at a low-rated local station in Minneapolis called KTMA. A group of local comedians raided the film archives and found some of the worst movies the station had to offer. They then watched the movies and made fun of them. After quickly creating a fanbase, they moved over to the Comedy Channel ( now known as Comedy Central ) where they retoole the origonal idea and spent 7 seasons yukking it up at the expense of cinematic ineptitude. It wasn't all a bed of roses, though. During this time, various cast members left to pursue other projects, as well a growing ammount of tension between the MST crew and Comedy Central. Between the looong and uncertain time between seasons 6 and 7, the gang were being jerked around by Universal Pictures, who would release ( drop off would be a more accurate term ) their big screen movie. Raw from the experience, when they returned for season 7, the riffing on the show had a much more angry flavor to it.

After finally being cancelled, the show found a new home and supporting cast on the Sci-Fi Channel. It lasted for three more years untill it was cancelled once again. That was in 1999, but reruns of the show continued untill 2004, ending it's 15 year on-air adventure. While it was first and foremost a comedy show, there was more going on beneath the surface ( otherwise it would just have been anothe Bevis And Butthead on the pop culture meter ) . MST3K was about more than just mocking really bad movies. It was, and is, about the battle against mediocrity than most thinking people wage every day. The show is a demonstration about how we don't have to just lay back and accept the mindless dreck that we are spoon-fed every day.
In a way, MST3K is a metaphor for fighting the good fight.

That, and someone really needs to give movies like Stealth and The Island what for. ]]> ~repoman2112 http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/8319886/ http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/8319886/ Fri, 31 Mar 2006 02:52:20 PST
For the benefit of my friends who don't live in the U.S. and don't have these, or for people who just never noticed these things, let me explain.
At the front of grocery stores, right by the exit doors, are those crappy little vending machines that have all kinds of easily lost junk. Everything from Superballs, to flimsy little tin rings, to mini coffee mugs with sports teams logos on them. There are these little molded plastic figures called Homies that look like members of a street gang. Saggy pants, wife-beater t-shirts, bling-bling... the works. Or maybe they're not gang members, maybe they're just representin' urban street cred, old-school style. Get me, dawg?

At any rate, some middle-aged woman saw these little things, and decides that she's had enough. She takes a Sharpie magic marker out of her purse and draws a good sized box on the center of the display glass, not fully shielding the view, but covering up the figures in the center, noteably, characters with leashed pit bulls. She complains to the manager, she calls the local news. Why? Because she feels that these little plastic will encourage children to join the gang ranks of the Homies. Those little plastic toys. This is news worthy? Now, I'm not a fancy big city lawyer, but If I were a kid who got one of those things to take home and play with the rest of my toys, the second one of those Homies got into a close range battle with one of my Transformers and got cracked in two, I think the inkling of joining a gang would quickly disappear.

Especially If Optimus Prime was representin' . ]]> ~repoman2112 http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/5759216/ http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/5759216/ Sun, 26 Jun 2005 04:02:45 PDT
- If there's a huge explosion, jump away from it with your hands in the air. You'll be fine.

- Glass bottles and large panes of glass will break on the first try if you hit them and you won't be injured.

- All gay men are sassy and flamboyant. And are never fat or self loathsome.

- All gay women are thin and highly attractive. They also may easily become heterosexual for the right man ( see Chasing Amy for an example )

- You can fall from a cliff, be hit with anvils and pianos, even shot out of cannons and not be seriously harmed.

- If you're asian, you know kung-fu.

- If you're a fat guy, your wife will be skinny and hot. No exceptions.

- Women are willing to have sex anytime, anywhere, and will always be satisfied ( see any porno ever made for an example ) .

- Playing an electric guitar in the ocean or during heavy rainfall will not result in electrocution.

- Men are always dumber than rocks, women are not.

- Blondes are always prefered ( either sex ) .

- Little dogs can talk and make you want to eat at Taco Bell.

- If you are ever in a gunfight, your enemies bullets will act normal, but bullets from your gun will blow bad guys back at least 2 city block lengths.

- When you turn on the radio or tv, an interesting news story will be taking place, most often as " Breaking News " .

If you are an unemployed actor in New York, you can afford the nicest, largest apartment ever invented ( see Joey for an example ).

...and lastly...

- Everything will work itself out before the final commercial break.

( This is just a joke. Please don't take my word for any of this stuff. ) ]]> ~repoman2112 http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/5407830/ http://repoman2112.deviantart.com/journal/5407830/ Fri, 20 May 2005 00:12:34 PDT I called him dad.

Dad was a fan of Yoda's zen-like wisdom, his favorite one being " Do, or do not do, there is no try. " , and he would often quote this to me in an attempt to motivate me. It was annoying. Speaking of annoying, Star Wars mania has descended once again, for the last time. It never used to bother me, because, you know, the movies used to be good. I know just about everyone knows of Star Wars, even if they haven't seen it, so I'll just skip the plot of the thing.

To the best of my memory, I've never waited in line for more than twenty minutes to see any given movie. And yet, you read about guys ( I say guys because I like to think that girls, nerdy or not, can find better things to do ) who were waiting in line for a month prior to the opening. A whole month! What of jobs, women and food, young Jedi? Maybe you have a good sized cooler, that takes care of the food. Okay. You say you quit and have a credit card that's still not maxed out. Okay, two points. But I KNOW you are not gonna get laid on the sidewalk, in broad daylight, in front of a movie theater, in the company of overweight smelly guys who are dressed like Darth Vader. Not gonna happen.

This doesn't matter, I guess, since the movie made an estimated $16.5 million from 2,900 midnight screenings Thursday, according to the box-office stats.

I'd be a big fool if I told you I was never going to see Ep. 3 ( and you'd be the bigger fool for believing me if I did ) , but I'm certainly not in a big hurry to watch it. Before 1999, I might have been, but no now. Why? Well, to answer this I have, as a public service, devised a list of reasons.

REASONS TO BE PISSED OFF AT STAR WARS EPS. 1-3:

10) Jar-Jar Binks
I don't think I need to explain too much here. He's the most irritating invention since the Ewoks.

9) Yoda
Yoda used to be a muppet, now he's just another CGI creature. Why? Muppets are cool. Just like that Godzilla remake a few years back, you can throw a bunch of money up there and make him look fancy, but to me he'll always be a guy in a rubber suit swatting toy ships in a large bathtub.

8) CGI overload
Unlike the holy trilogy, everything seems fake. Because it is. %70 of the prequels are CGI, destroying whatever realism that might have been present in the story. Just because you can do something, doesn't mean that you always should.

7) Lucas
Never being noted for being a strong director, Lucas has poorly written and directed all of the prequels. He's good with technical stuff, but he can't do character stuff very well. It's no coincidence that the strongest and best of them all( The Empire Strikes Back) was directed by someone else. He unleashed Howard The Duck on the world, for pete's sake.

6) The system
A very large amount of time in the movies is dedicated to groups of government officials sitting around and talking about things. And nothing spells rip-roaring epic space adventure quite like old guys talking about governing and political affairs.

5) Bobba Fett
The badass bounty hunter was cool because he never talked and his story was never explained. In Ep. 2 we meet him and his dad, Jango and are given his life story. Why?! Now he's just a big puss.

4) The ending
If you know Star Wars up to this point, you know that before it's over Anakin's gonna plow Natilie Portman( and by that, I mean have sex with her) , he's gonna turn to the dark side and Luke and Leigh will be born.

3) Making sense
In Ep. 4, Ben Kanobee( or Obi-wann ) tells luke that when he met Anakin he was a great fighter pilot, but in Ep. 1 he's just a little boy. Or that Ben claims to have trained Anakin, but in fact Qui-gon Ginn trains him. And if Anakin built C3-PO, how come this is never brought up in the holy trilogy. And another thing...

2) Vader
In Empire, when Vader drops the bomb that " I AM your father " to Luke it was a surprise. Now, in context, it's old news so the dramatic zing has been pissed away.

1) F**kin' with the trilogy
To have the new, crappier movies fit in with the older better ones, Lucas went back and altered the first movies. In the process he turned Han Solo into a big puss, made Jabba the Hutt no longer a threat and told the entire world that the story we all know and love is complete and utter sh*t.
Thanks, Lucas. ]]> ~repoman2112