Bugs on a Blogger
Ok, so I've tried to post this comment about 50 times on Michael's Blog, but for some reason, the word verification won't work. I know I'm mildly dyslexic, but I think I can decypher what fucking letters are being swirled in front of me for security purposes. Anyway, here's my comment relating to Micahel's "Snakes on a Plane" post.
What about:
Used Car Salesmen on a Yugo
Snails on a Tree (gaw! I can't believe I missed that one!!)
Ok, that was about it. I really want to see the trailer, but it's impossible to download. I'll have to take the laptop to the Ole Store and let Sophie run around while I download it. I can't wait! SoaP Rulz!!
I'm not sure it was worth a whole post, but I just really needed to vent about Blogger once again. Thanks for the free space, but wouldn't it be nice if it worked for me more often. I guess I'm just cursed. ARG!
posted by Circe @ 2:21 PM
20 comments
20 Comments:
So, it's not a parody at all. Watched the trailer. It looks like shit. The only way to make a movie like that any good is to elevate it to a parody. It will probably do this anyway without meaning to, which I believe, in cultural terms, makes it a parody of itself. It looks like that's the way people are treating it; especially if you look at all the parody trailers and music being bandied about on YouTube.com.
How about Snacks on a Plane? Just as scary for some. "Attempting to kill a witness in the federal protection program, a ruthless assassin unleashes a crate full of individual peanut snack bags on a crowded flight carrying 350 members of the Americans Allergic to Nuts Association to a convention in Tokyo. After initial anger, the passengers calm down when they realize no one can get the fucking little bags open anyway. The assassin does the sensible thing and beheads his target upon touching down in Japan. Everyone, except the decapitated guy, enjoys a wonderfully nutless convention."
Or "Rakes on a Plain" Just hundreds of shots of people stepping on rake tines and getting whapped in the nose by the handle. Samuel Jackson appears and helps people with a series of lectures on sensible and safe rake-handling procedures. The local nose-gauze manufacturer is discovered to have ruthlessly unleashed the rakes upon the quiet Nebraska town to drive up demand for his product. He is beheaded. Everyone goes home happy and talking with funny broken-nose voices.
Or how about "Cakes on a Train" A baker unleashes an increasingly succulent and ruthless series of desserts on a trainload of increasingly widening American housewives who are taking a special tour of Europe. Panic ensues. Samuel Jackson appears and tells the women to just stop fucking eating that shit. They are unable to. Calls are placed to Oprah who, of course, cries about it on TV the next day. At the next stop, millions of women seige the train, and eat the fabulous treats. The baker is simultaneously feared for his lacking of ruth and revered for his use of the highest quality chocolates. The women, drunk on sugar, return to America and behead Oprah.
How about... ahh... nevermind... too dirty... haven't enough people been beheaded by my madness?
Hope this isn't a horrible, lengthy burden for you to read. Wouldn't want to, you know, leave a comment or anything that would seem to fulfill the purpose of having a fucking blog in the first place.
I mean I could just leave "Nice post" as a comment; that way you would know someone was reading it, but you wouldn't have to deal with all those extra thoughts and words or any messy creativity; that shit's always getting in the way of mundane replies...
If it has offended in length or subject matter, please forgive me for enjoying writing to someone who I think might be able to appreciate it.
Nice post.
Holy shit. This is totally the best comment you have ever made. That is the best comment Anonymous has ever made, not the one questionably made by my husband.
These are all hilarious. I love them all, especially peanuts on a plane.
Well, it's good to know you spent your day doing something hilarious.
Thanks. I also finished another play. I think it's funny too. So, I was double funny today.
I think I need just one more short play to round out my night of short plays. Then I guess we start auditions.
Warning! Post Modern Film Plot Follows!
How about "Snakes on a Plane": A ruthless and witless assassin, in an attempt to kill a witness in the federal protection program, dumps several crates of snakes on a plane under the cover of night. We discover, however, that even very large snakes cannot hold on to the skin of planes, especially during take-off. Reptiles skid to a halt on the runway, forcibly shedding their skins and most of their internal organs. The next jumbo jet in from California skids on the carnage and rolls, bursting in to flames. The fire and rescue units, under the direction of Chief Slash "Snake" Slams, miraculously rescue almost every passenger. The only casualty is a circus freak who is beheaded, but he had two heads to start. His career tanks, but his story catches Oprah's attention. She weeps about it on her show; whereby millions of copies of the freak's hastily-published autobiography sell within weeks. The story is sold to a major Hollywood studio, who, with a little tweaking, release it as "Snakes on a Plane". Shortly before its release, however, it's discovered that the freak fabricated many of the more sensational details in his autobiography. He is initially supported by Oprah - "For God's sake people! He lost his head!" - and then summarily tried and found guilty by Oprah on her show. Without Oprah's blessing, the film bombs. In shame, he retreats to a small Nebraska town, to take on the operation of a small nose-gauze factory run by his father until his recent beheading. He begins work on writing his father's story. Oprah reads the book; is greatly moved by it,and she exonerates the freak. The new book sells millions of copies within a couple weeks. A major Hollywood studio picks up the book and, with minor tweaking, releases it as "Rakes on a Plain". It too earns nothing at the box office. The freak decides to retire from the nose guaze indutry and returns to his original love: baking. He is hired by a railway tourism company out of Brussells where he becomes the executive dessert chef. Embittered by all he has been through, he hatches a devious scheme to unleash delicious treats on a train full of American housewives, which ultimately leads to the beheading of Oprah. A major Hollywood studio buys the freak's story and releases it as "Cakes on a Train". Unfortunately, with Oprah not there to sanction the movie as "good", nearly all American women stay away from the film. Fortunately, however, since the movie ends with the beheading of Oprah, nearly all American men rush out to see it, making it wildly popular. The freak then writes an autobiography of his life starting with the bizarre events that lead to his beheading. He calls it "Snakes on a Plane". A major Hollywood studio picks it up and, with no tweaking at all, releases it. It quickly becomes the most popular film of its time.
The Freak Wins!!!
Words I would try to get into my "Snakes on a Plane" movie (as described above):
Pickleless
Hammurabi
Mantastic
Ithyphallic
Sumbitch
Trundler
Semiherbacious
Pocky
Imgettintoooldforthisshit
Whap
Oprahtarian
Reptiliphiliacically
Zoot
Flutal
Bumpity
Whatwhat
Just thought you might like to know.
Oh, I almost forgot:
Marmot
Mormon Marmot
Moron Mormon Marmot
Marroon Moron Mormon Marmot
Marroon Moron Mormon Mamet Marmot
Marroon Martyred Moron Mormom Mamet Marmot
Marroon Marrooned Martyred Moron Mormon Mamet Marmot
Marroon Marrooned Martyred Moron Mormon Martian Mamet Marmot
Just kidding... I'd never put a Mormon in my movie! Had you going though. A marmot, however, especially a gay marmot, will always have a place in my film.
(heart, heart, heart)
Nyah, nyah... check it out:
http://bleeet.blogspot.com
Hey, you haven't linked to my blog yet. It's not like you were doing anything today...
Jeez...
FIfteen days.
Condemnation!
New post now!
I just said that (what Henry alludes to above) to Michael tonight. I told him that your blog no longer counts. Indefinitely sidelined for extensive delay of game. Some of us update ours every damn day; not that you would know... sigh... no link, no comments, and after chiding me for so long for not having one... (tears are flowing now)
- Brendon
P.S. sigh... and again, sigh...
Oh yeah, I almost forgot.... sigh... (this was a bigger sigh the the previous ones)
Wait wait wait...
wait wait wait wait wait...
wait wait wait...
And, I sigh. So much content on my site... so little linking to it by people with your exact name...
I will do Henry one better and turn my sighs into a haiku:
sigh sigh sigh sighsigh
sigh sighsighsigh sighsigh sigh
sighsighsigh sigh sigh
Yes, I know it rhymes, but it's very difficult to not find a rhyme for 'sigh' when the only other word you can use is 'sigh'; plus, perhaps, when the words are identical it can't be considered a 'rhyme' per se.
Anyway, sigh.
Again, for the uninitiated, my page of dramatic goodness is at http://bleeet.blogspot.com
And, when the hell will you post something again?
My waits were in 3/5/3 Haiku, damnit!
Here's more:
I wait for a post.
Is Cabaret the reason?
Just one little note?
Isn't the official haiku form 5/7/5, the 3/5/3 has a different name, doesn't it....
It's called Pat's Bastard Formation... in Japanese: Shoniko Pat Sukkoko...
Just kidding... I don't actually know Japanese... I'm just repeating what my Japanese friends always tell me about you...
Anyway, let's turn our vitriol back on a better target, Shari and her lazy-ass blog...
The truth is, Pat, she's not doing anything today. She's watching Yellow Submarine with Sophie and eating Ding-Dongs on the sofa.
Supply your own lewd joke in the space below.
No wonder she isn't blogging. "Yellow Submarine" made me want to top myself after ten minutes. I imagine her will to live is a bit diminished for now.
Or it could be one of those God-awful Monkees movies which she, to the complete lack of any crtical acclaim elsewhere in the universe, finds to be so wildly essential. It's one thing to fawn over and worship drivel that the actual Beatles put out, but quite another to do likewise over worthless Beatles rip-off acts. How will she react, when in 10 years, teens and twenty-somethings who didn't have to live through Milli Vanilli decide to unearth them and proclaim their work the stuff of genius. I've talked to many people who lived through this "Monkees" "band", most of them just shiver with fear when the subject is broached.
I think I may be the only white person alive to say this but I think the Beatles are unbearable. The Monkees at least were stoned in a funny way, not some pretentious, bigger-than-Jesus way.
Anyway, I guess we're blogging for Shari now, what with this being comment #19. I guess we can help a friend out. Maybe we should stage an intervention. Get inbetween her new obsession with Oprah and the fate of Tomkat.
You make a good point, my fellow interventionist. I can see the Beatles' pretention, and how the Monkees were a more humourous take on the Fab Four. At least, the Beatles wrote, composed, played and sang all their own material.
Perhaps, I'll just start posting each of my plays to her coment section, that would provide her with enough material at least, and then, maybe, she would actually read my fucking blog like she fucking promised because she fucking ridiculed fucking me for a fucking month to get my own fucking blog so that I wouldn't fucking "hijack" (her actual word) her fucking blog by writing so fucking much in her fucking comments section. Fuck.
A Fucking Haiku
To Commemorate The Loss
Of This Fucking Blog
Yeah, you see it, I'm fucking crazy. Not only does my haiku break the strict rule of reference itself as itself, but it's also capitalized. Additionally, it has a vulgar and violent streak; something the Japanese masters would not have liked in their their meditative art.
Fair Warning: I'll chop up the haiku form further, bastardizing it into something unrecognizable if we don't start getting some hot blog action. Perhaps, I'll call the new form Fukku.
Just an idea.
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