Both of these things are true. You must see KUNG FU HUSTLE in all it's badly dubbed glory. It's the comedy martial arts combat movie you have been waiting for and you didn't even know it.
Tuesday, June 27, 2017
"Jerry, It's Not A Lie, If YOU Believe it."
For some reason, despite being on the cover of Time many times, Donald Trump manufactured a fake cover to frame and hang in his Florida, Virginia, Ireland, and Scotland golf courses. Why Trump would do this will only lead someone down a rabbit hole that will ultimately end with the rhetorical question of: “why does he do anything he does?” So it’s best to just move on to the next part of the news which is that Time Magazine has asked him to remove the fabricated cover he displays proudly on his walls.
I love how all these things that no one ever checked in the past are coming up every week and they are never good. I have yet to hear a nice story about the carrot colored robber baron. Now who is making up the fake news, Donald?? What those reporters did will be forgotten in weeks but this gem will always be remembered. What will be the next odd thing we learn about this human bean bag chair.
Or perhaps, he will continue to show off the counterfeit covers and damn the people who point out that everything about it is wrong. The red border, the headline placements, everything. He will embrace the alternative Time Magazine and then hang up the cover of Thrasher he made back in the ’80s right next to it.
So are you telling me that he went to all the cost and effort just to make a cover that is a bad copy. Take some pride your lies, bitch. Don't half ass the magazine like you half ass everything else that you do. I read about the USFL and what you did to ruin that enterprise. You do know that even maggots can go to Hell. You know that right?
Tales From The Typewriter
The Great Mr Chudobiak treated me like a bad student and I deserved every typing punishment I got. But now I can type as fast as I can think what I want to say because of him so he gets my full respect. Home Row bitches. HOME ROW.
I hated typing class. It was just one thing that didn't come easy to me. And most things for the most part were going along just fine. Grade nine I had NO final exams because I had good enough grades to get exempted from them. All of them but TYPING. And typing was first thing in the morning so I had to get up and go to an empty classroom to first FIX my assignments that had too many mistakes AND do the final typing exam. I was mad but I wasn't going to let this maniac the satisfaction of taking away my early summer. So I showed up early and left late. I finished all my assignments without asking for a second of help from him. I just tossed them on his desk and left for home. I even finally conquered the DURODENT toothbrush company which was the business letter from hell. I was my own personal Viet Nam. I learned to hate that letter but there was nothing cooler that seeing him mark it and toss it in the 'completed' pile.
Of course all my spite and bitterness was poured into my fingers and I started at the beginning and worked through that stupid book. No digital assist in those days. This was old school typing text books with special stands that the shop class made to hold them. They never left the room lest we all could gather under the light of a full moon and type H and J over and over again.
And of course, the more I typed the better I got. I didn't have to look at my fingers after a time and I made so many less mistakes and got finished the pages is twice the time. Damn I wish they had Walkman's in those days. I could have done that all to some great 80s music like Queen or ELO or the BEE GEES - don't judge. But there was none of that. So I worked in silence and finally the exam came and I have to admit, I was insulted. I asked him if this was the same test the rest of the class had to do? (And how for some messed up reason ALL got exempted from the Typing Final.) He told me it as the same one. I typed it. I turned it in and stood waiting for him to mark it in front of me. He did and my score was 98. I just looked at him ready to strangle him for the extra two points. What the hell was my mistake? He showed me a place where I gave the spacebar and extra hit and left too much space between two words. I had no reply. I just turned to go and he asked me to stop and gave me the extra two points because apparently he had made and mistake and given me the grade 10 typing final. I kicked ass above my grade. I should have bargained may way out of even having to take typing 10. I had just mastered it and that was that. But I thought about it and started to look forward to typing as not just a fluff elective but a valuable skill that had prepared me for the digital age. And I owe it all the a maniac who was so bored at the end of the school year that he decided to mess with my head. Well, thanks for that Mr. Chudobiak. That moment made me a better teacher I think because I never let any kid slack off and half-ass it.
I hated typing class. It was just one thing that didn't come easy to me. And most things for the most part were going along just fine. Grade nine I had NO final exams because I had good enough grades to get exempted from them. All of them but TYPING. And typing was first thing in the morning so I had to get up and go to an empty classroom to first FIX my assignments that had too many mistakes AND do the final typing exam. I was mad but I wasn't going to let this maniac the satisfaction of taking away my early summer. So I showed up early and left late. I finished all my assignments without asking for a second of help from him. I just tossed them on his desk and left for home. I even finally conquered the DURODENT toothbrush company which was the business letter from hell. I was my own personal Viet Nam. I learned to hate that letter but there was nothing cooler that seeing him mark it and toss it in the 'completed' pile.
Of course all my spite and bitterness was poured into my fingers and I started at the beginning and worked through that stupid book. No digital assist in those days. This was old school typing text books with special stands that the shop class made to hold them. They never left the room lest we all could gather under the light of a full moon and type H and J over and over again.
And of course, the more I typed the better I got. I didn't have to look at my fingers after a time and I made so many less mistakes and got finished the pages is twice the time. Damn I wish they had Walkman's in those days. I could have done that all to some great 80s music like Queen or ELO or the BEE GEES - don't judge. But there was none of that. So I worked in silence and finally the exam came and I have to admit, I was insulted. I asked him if this was the same test the rest of the class had to do? (And how for some messed up reason ALL got exempted from the Typing Final.) He told me it as the same one. I typed it. I turned it in and stood waiting for him to mark it in front of me. He did and my score was 98. I just looked at him ready to strangle him for the extra two points. What the hell was my mistake? He showed me a place where I gave the spacebar and extra hit and left too much space between two words. I had no reply. I just turned to go and he asked me to stop and gave me the extra two points because apparently he had made and mistake and given me the grade 10 typing final. I kicked ass above my grade. I should have bargained may way out of even having to take typing 10. I had just mastered it and that was that. But I thought about it and started to look forward to typing as not just a fluff elective but a valuable skill that had prepared me for the digital age. And I owe it all the a maniac who was so bored at the end of the school year that he decided to mess with my head. Well, thanks for that Mr. Chudobiak. That moment made me a better teacher I think because I never let any kid slack off and half-ass it.
It's the great skill I have for communicating in the digital world and if I had to type with just my thumbs or use the 'one finger peck' I would refuse to do it. I can't lower my standards to those who feared HOME ROW. Do you know that when you are REALLY good, you don't even have to look at your fingers. They play the keyboard like a good pianist plays that piano the way they do. HOME ROW. Each one of you may be a rebel but you is an ignorant rebel. It's a skill that separates us from the animals - HOME ROW. Mavis Beacon knew her shit. There was no way to break the systerm. So that first year I taught I had access to a computer and I put msyelf and all the kids on that course. 20 minutes a day of straight typing skills and the last 20 minutes for You Tube videos and whatnot. Trust me they had no imagination so supervising their usage was a breeze. But I took the class with them every time i taught it to improve my skills and got to the point where I made a bet thtat I would give anyone twenty dollars if they could beat me in the times typing test as the end of th course. A few brash young punks and puckettes have taken the challenge. But I still rule in the school. Now I just told that story off the top of my head in about 5 minutes. Any slower and I would freak out. The world already moves too slow for me.
Monday, June 26, 2017
Transformers - The Last Knight
Oh boy did this one surprise me but not in a good way. I hoped for something at least a little bit less than just stupid but this one is totally beyond stupid. If I had two days I couldn't tell you all the reasons why it is one of the worst movie experiences of y life.. I will no doubt repeat myself talking about this film because I don't know enough ways to say the words lazy, undisciplined, and unnecessary. I must be only but I think I have seen this same move ever two years but I cant' be sure because they all blend into one brain twisting memory. But maybe that is the way they are supposed to be remembered because they are all the same and I don't care for a single creature, be their robot or human. If fact some of them throughout the franchise have mad me wish open death upon them. And even when that happens I am still not entertained in the slightest.
Now I know that Michael Bay is not creating art here. This is a technical equivalent of showing everyone that he can be bigger and louder than every other stupid superhero movie out there that for some reason never approach him to direct. It's because Marvel loves their characters and would never allow this maniac to mess with everything that makes them cool in the first place. But that is a discussion for another time. Toda we will evaluate Michael Bays latest piece of cinematic crap.
It's not really one movie this time out but five movies and all of them are terrible. First it's a big robot movie, then it's a heist film while trying to be a goofy romantic comedy and finally it's another giant robot movie albeit one that has morphed into a buddy comedy. After that it's a heroic sacrifice to prevent the end of the world from occurring. Then Optimus Prime says something inspirational that makes me cringe inside and we all barf, the end.
I hated this movie. But it was there. I should look away but it's just too sad to ignore. A movie this bad deserves to be seen but never in a theatre. You watch this one when you can no longer stop from wondering if it's really as bad as you have heard. Actually, it's worse. It tries to be many things but succeeds at none of them. For all it's bluster it's a big load of Summer Blockbuster nothing and I often felt trapped watching it. I genuinely loathe Michael Bay though I love Armageddon. His name is attached to the show The Last Ship but it's terrific so I know for sure that he does nothing with it or it would spoil like everything else Bay touches.
It hurt my heart to hear the voice of the great Sir Anthony Hopkins narrating all this balloon juice while a drunk Merlin (yes, THAT Merlin) makes a deal with hidden Transformers who we have never known about because somehow that HUGE fact gets omitted by the history books. Hopkins also gets to spout some comedy later in the film and for all his efforts and trying to be playful it just feels wrong. It's goofy but deliberately so and it feels manufactured and not as organic as it aspires to be. When the great man who played Hannibal Lecter is seen giving the finger to a car he is racing against and calling it 'his bitch' I just want to cry. Most of the dialogue is equally cringe inducing.
The rest of the script is foolish, the situations are totally unbelievable, have no flow or a coherent narrative to follow. It's beyond loud and visually distracting. It's a b-movie with bigger explosions and effects but for the life of me I can't remember a second of it after it ended. Not one second. After see the same explosion a thousand times, they get boring. And the people are always right there while things explode around them. No one ever gets killed if they are not meant to be killed. Not even a scratch. It's good to have an agent.
You have to suspend disbelief to make any kind of movie like this work but this one stretched my ability to do that to it's breaking point. It's beyond stupid and only got stupider. In fact there is room at the top for this one to join Battlefield Earth as the worst ever. The more convoluted, illogical and goofy it got, the more fun it SHOULD have been but just the opposite happened to me. I have seen it all before. This movie plays like Michael Bay's greatest hits. It's a mess like most of his other movies and it just never stops from showing off it's visual effect (which are substandard an ordinary at best) like Bay is still auditioning for the job. Less is more, Buddy and this film could have done with all the twists and last minute saves. Each one of them make me roll my eyes and no movie going should have to do that every 3 to five minutes. Just another way that this film was hard to watch. It could very well be the worst summer blockbuster I have ever seen. 2 hours and 30 minutes of balloon juice that I will never get back.
But then there is Mark Walberg who most often can't act his way out of a wet paper bag but knows exactly when to take off his shirt. He doesn't make things better with all his yelling. Every bit of dialogue is there to build feelings for a character we could not care about even one little bit although he plays it like he's Hans Solo complete with hot British historian to further validate his rugged attractiveness. He of course is also the CHOSEN ONE (gah!!) which leads to all manner of shenanigans. I hope Walberg got a cut of the toy profits because that would be the only reason to take on this role. You could have put a baked potato on the screen and you wouldn't haven't noticed any difference.
No matter how insanely dangerous the stunts look, it's all boring because there is nothing to lose. How the hell does ANYONE make a boring Transformers movie? This is how. Highly advance human and alien weaponry against untrained humans who all just run and run and run and somehow escape it all. They never need to sleep or eat or poop. Just run and jump and jump and run and fall down and run some more. Combine that with cutting edge effects and it should hold my attention yet I can remember NONE of it. All the noise and destruction just blends together into one movie equivalent of a fruit smoothie.
Did Michael Bay just discover how slow motion works because he sure uses it a lot. It just makes a long movie seem even longer. Plus waiting for Optimus Prime to show up is not the moment it should have been. It's just painful to watch. All the money that went into this junk could have been spent doing something useful for humanity and this movie has no redeeming value and it's boring to boot which is a sin I cannot forgive. So many ways to put Mark Walberg in danger (who can hang off a robot who is in mid battle and still try to talk him out of being a bad robot like some hunky therapist). And there it is - the dumbest part of all. Those who had the "staff" gave it to their enemy just to advance the story a half hour after it should have ended.
I did dig the way Bumblebee could be dangerous even while blown up and he can reform and transform. It's a neat idea and a cool stunt. But him not having a voice is getting tiresome. Then when he finds it again it's also tiresome because his REAL voice is a major plot moment and was just another 'big moment' that falls as flat as a popcorn fart.
I guess only the Transformers with personality are the ones who survive. Their battering gets tiresome after a very short period of time and robots just come and go. I never know who is fighting who and which giant robots are good or bad because everyone of them can switch their loyalties on a whim. It's like playing with the toys as a child. It's like toys come to life with famous voices and it's not as fun as it should be. The Optimus speech at the end of this one once inspired to here. This time it released me from the hell I was in. It was so nice to know I could leave the theatre and never see another Transformers movie again but then it end with a lazy cliffhanger with a final tacked on scen.
Was there anything I liked about this one? Is there one redeeming thing?
Izabella the teen girl is awesome. Very charming as the orphan girl who and certainly better than this movie deserves. Then half way through the film they just abandon her story for what there was of it only to mindlessly insert her into the danger at the end so that she can save a part of the day like everyone else gets a chance to do. Tedious as a description does not do this lazy script justice.
Racist voices accompany most of the minor characters and that is what is suppose to pass for comedy but as usual you can't tell one messy robot from the other. I cared for none of them even the ones I was suppose to care for but they are all so one not stereotypes based on the main vehicles they transform into. Hot Rod is a French car who is always trying to hit on pretty girls. Brilliant, isn't it?
(click to enlarge)
Michael Bay needs to be stopped from ever making another movie for the rest of his life so that we can all be spared Transformers 6.
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