While everyone else is bitching about changes Lucas made for the Star Wars Blu-ray (just don’t buy it, ya stupid babies), I noticed a pretty awesome SW reference in an Audi commercial.
The coffee shop in the ad is called “Blue Harvest,” and the woman’s pastry bag and cup even have it written in SW font. I’ve seen this commercial at least 20 times, but didn’t notice the nod to SW until yesterday morning. For those of you who don’t know, “Blue Harvest” was the fake working title for Return of the Jedi – used to help keep its a production a secret. The tagline was “Horror Beyond Imagination,” insinuating that it would be a horror film. Family Guy used the title recently for one of its SW parodies. S I guess “Blue Harvest” isn’t that obscure anymore, but it was cool seeing the subtle nod to SW trivia in a car commercial.
Introduction: I catch your eye, you get my drift. We barely know one another, and yet I can tell that there is a lot we have in common: for one, we’re reading this Blogling.* We are married to the Mop, ordinary yet exceptional Mopsters. You (all of you) and I are otherwise regular people. Sure, we’re weirdos and that may show. But on any given day, we may not even notice one another, too absorbed by something or other.
I don’t know about you, but I get a bit excited when I see someone wear Мишка. Maybe because I live in a city where there are zero retailers for the brand and generally not much fashion sense. But I assume that the average Мишка-wearer and I may eventually share at least a basis for conversation. It’s a distinctive mark. Something. Or other. That’s exciting. Not that the conversation will happen. Not that I want it to happen. Not that the conversation will be enriching. But if it just so happens that we have a common acquaintance who would just so happen to introduce us, well, the conversation will be struck. The awkwardness will dissipate much faster than if we had have had that common ground. That’s one less person I have to worry about in the crowd, and I’m sure (some of) you can understand how that feels. I hope you feel the same.
But this column will not be about proverbs, oh no. But it will be a column, oh yes. In which I will gather the flocks, pick the pods, dim the wits. Sub|cult|ures, freaks, nerds, geeks, otakus, fanboys, juggalos, whovians, I’m sure you’ve heard of them. Which leads us to the title of this post. If you’re still with me (crossing fingers), you are probably aware that anything we can do the Japanese can do better. Not they’re smarter than us. On average, we’re all average. But Japan has allotted a lot of room in its society to weirdness, it’s a FACT. And here’s proof: Japan has the word “dōjin” that just designates a group of people that share an interest, preferably non-mainstream. Of course, it happens for everything from teletubby cosplay to so-called remix culture to African politics fanfic to macroherpetophiles to WHATEVER YOU NAME IT BECAUSE IT’S JUST THAT ALL-ENCOMPASSING OF A TERM. ”Circles” in Google+? Yeah, that’s dōjin.
So many terms already, why oh why do we have to bother about borrowing one that’s hard to pronounce? (I recommend it by the way)(From now on you should assume that I only speak in dōjin assemblages)(I will redirect any later comment to this post for reference) Because we are talking about an entirely different ontological beast. While your ordinary ΛΛΛ or ΩΜ nerd herd has felt the need to solidify and find recognition in legit markets, the dōjin hits and runs, it is self-serving. It is entirely emergent: there is no attachment to a space or a time, dōjin just happens when someone partakes in something that other someones do. Yes, your existing cohort is probably a dōjin in many respects. Yes, dōjin will meet at your local Comicon (I miss Hateball) or on the internets to discuss the latest news in their realm of interest (thence) and perhaps generate some lightning. But aside from that? Dōjin are only dōjin by virtue of their recumbency of the same stream of information. It is a culture with a half-life. A zygotic ouroboros. It fully embraces its own entropy whilst blurring the lines between the in and the out group. It exists in fact, before someone slaps a name on it for it to exist in words and be all practical and junk.
So yes, there will be reviews, round-ups, interviews, one-offs, of the things that fascinate me and hopefully will titillate you. I expect to run out of original things to present pretty quickly, so expect this heading to be also pondering of the wider nature of subaltern existence and space immense.
I’m Gnou by the way. Nice to meet you.
*This is what I call a post on the Bloglin; the Bloglin is populated by a swarm of Bloglings; posting a Blogling is called “bloglinging”, reading a Blogling is called “bloglingering.”
Much has been made over the newest repackaging and alterations being made to the Star Wars films as it they get ready to hit Blu-Ray. One such issue was a new pained bit of dialogue from Vader as The Emperor electrocutes Luke in the throne room during Return of the Jedi.
But you know what? This is one scene changed for the better, watch it and I bet none of you will disagree.
The title of this kind of threw you for a loop, huh? Sorry about that but I imagine George Lucas is going for a similar effect.
No movie series in history has been as continually altered as the Star Wars franchise. That’s not news. What is news, kind of, is that George Lucas will once again re-release the Star Wars saga, this time fit for Blu-ray. That really isn’t news either, as it should just be expected that with each successful advancement in technology will come a re-release of Star Wars. With a handful of deleted scenes (which is really the bizarre part of these continual re-releases, if you ask me. I mean, where do all these deleted scenes keep coming from? Just how many scenes did old George delete?) and minor fixes, the most significant change comes in the form of a new, CGI Yoda in Episode I: The Phantom Menace. Check out the video above for the new Yoda from the upcoming Blu-ray release compared to the old, cross-eyed puppet Yoda from the original ’99 release.
From reading the always-brilliant comments on the Youtube clip of the new, Blu-ray Yoda, it’s become apparent that many fans are annoyed by Lucas’ continuous updates of the classic series. I don’t know what people expect, though. There’s a lot of, “Lucas will never stop raping that franchise and it’s fanbase…” For sure, dude. If there’s new technology, and new formats through which enjoy movies, it makes total sense to update the films.
I get people wanting him to leave the films alone for sheer sake of them being an encapsulation of a moment in time and a marker of technological capabilities. I get that. I still don’t care enough to agree with that line of thought, but I get it. There are also fans, however, that want him to leave the films alone because they don’t want to have to buy the updated ones. Well, let me clarify for these fans that they do not have to buy the rereleases. That’s one of the best parts about having free will, actually.
In that sense, whether he releases new versions of the film or not is irrelevant. If you own a copy you are happy with, then there: you’re good. Don’t buy a new one. If a new one comes out, and you’re not satisfied with your copy, then you’re in luck! There’s a new one that just came out! Problem solved. Now let the man rake in a fortune in peace.
What we have here is the first teaser trailer for the upcoming Ghost Rider sequel, Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance. At first watch it looks a little cheesy, but certainly no worse than most superhero flicks of late. It definitely appears to be full to the brim with mindless violence and a very limited story line. But whatever. I’m in.
According to the synopsis, the new Ghost Rider:
picks up where it’s been several years since making a deal with the Devil and Johnny Blaze, living in self-imposed isolation, finds himself as the only person who can help save 10-year-old Danny – and ultimately the world – thanks to his unwanted and uncontrollable power – his ability to transform into the hell-on-wheels monster ‘Ghost Rider.’
Thankfully this movie seems to be based on the survival of a ten year old boy. Again, I’m in.
Look for this to drop in 2012. Nicholas Cage, Nicholas Cage, Nick ‘Doin’ It Big’ Cage, Nick Cage.
Another case of me having way too much time, amongst other things, on my hands lead me to the incidental discovery of the cum-swapping, piss-mopping world of Horny Biker Slut comics. And ‘woof!’, is this a nasty little publication. The “girls”, with their military haircuts and the build of a fucking linebacker, treat their bodies like filling stations for Hell’s Angels-type greaseballs and wimpy skeezes. Have I got you hooked? Good. Now not to fret, I’ll dive deeper into the graphic details a little further on, but I feel its only right, the man of taste and decency that I am, that we talk about how these sleazy rags came to be, so don’t blow your load just yet.
Published by Last Gasp, a company out of San Francisco essential to the outreach of the underground comix movement, having put out material from R. Crumb, Robert Williams, and Bill Griffith, in 1991, Horny Biker Slut was the new whore on the block, selling her twat to any acne-ridden reader with a measly $2.95 in his/her pocket. Each issue, of which their were thirteen total, was written and illustrated by John Howard, whose done covers for Al Goldstein’s Screw Magazine, with art contributed by Scott Phillips and Dave St. Albans. Unsurprisingly, these books did very well upon their release, gargling it’s way into the collections of pervs everywhere.
A given issue of this Adults Only mag might consist of three to four vignettes featuring muscly jezebels engaging in an ungodly amount of drippy double-penetration while pressing their buns up against the hot chrome pipes of a chopper. One of the, if not ‘the’, most vulgar comic you’ll ever lay eyes on, HBS (Horny Biker Slut) is as much a supporter of thick thighs and giant tits as it is dicks. Referred to as ‘weasels’, some kind of underground ’90s slang, a throbbing, oozing dick makes an appearance in about every panel, every page for sure, eager to douse the leather-clad chicks with lots of warm glaze. Nick Gazin, if you’re out there, stop touching yourself!
Plot-line, you say? Who needs ‘em! This ain’t that bitch-ass, prude Wonder Woman we’re talking about, these women, some of which are not so well-concealed trannys with veiny pricks of their own, will make you go ass to mouth, and like it, before its all over with. Dykes get their holes plugged with dirty, smelly man-meat, ripped off, and then physically abused, how’s that for a synopsis? If this kinda XXX filth peaks your interest, pay a visit to your local comic shop and pray they’ve got some of these lying around in a backroom somewhere, with the pages not stuck together, because this smut’s been out of print for a minute. Be honest…you all love sluts.
It may shock you to hear it, but a lot of the folks that are employed here at Мишка wouldn’t be considered your stereo-typical Joe Cool. In fact, taking into account the amount of Star Wars themed conversations that take place throughout the office on a day-to-day basis, some might even consider us to be dorks. Every so often, however, I run across a breed of nerd which really puts things into perspective. Give this clip a viewing, and tell me you don’t feel like Arthur Fonzarelli when the dust settles in the wake of this dweeb’s epic rant.
All kidding aside, I barely know what YouTube user Boogie2988 is ever talking about throughout his 4 minute video, but I still find this thing to be infinitely entertaining. I suppose you could try to extract some meaning from the geek dialogue here, but you’d have to sift your way through a veritable ComicCon’s-worth of dork static to really pull this off. What is made crystal clear by this tantrum, however, is that the fellow is legitimately pissed off. When the star of the video actually throws a Thor hammer at his Slave Leia poster, I’m sure we can all agree that he means business. An egregious action of this magnitude is unquestionably viewed as a cardinal sin in the eyes of which ever god nerds tend to pray to… presumably Gandalf.
While Daniel Tosh is on summer vacation, we figured it was our sworn duty to post this video, and point out how much this guy resembles the GIF of that dancing fat kid. You can thank us the next time we see you.
Ever felt like swapping out those drab NES game soundtracks for something a little more blood-pumping, boot-stomping, and noggin-slamming? I know I have. I mean how often can you listen to the incessant, tiresome theme song for The Legend of Zelda before you want to put your fist through the TV set and repeatedly smash your Nintendo against the asphalt until there is nothing left but a motherboard for you to fling off the roof of the apartment complex. It’s in those moments of frustration turned uncontrollable fury that Lich King enters, remedying the issue with an album, that once used in place of the Super Mario Bros. score, brings a whole new meaning to the game, with Mario perceptibly crushing skulls and looting area after area as any self-respecting plumber should.
The thrash metal revivalists, Lich King, are not the most notable or outstanding group of long-haired axemen in the biz. They ain’t no Hirax but they do have the World of Warcraft reference going for them, instant street cred in my book, in addition to breaking ground and doing something no fret-shredder has done before…converting their songs to 8-bit. The days of sappy bleeping tones are over, the Massachusetts headbangers have waged a ‘nuclear assault’ on your game console, committing a reformative act of ‘vio-lence’ against the lame melodies stored on each cartridge.
There’s been 8-bit remixes of songs, full albums of hip-hop broken down into the primitive, audial vernacular, and artists like minibosses championing a subgenre of computerized music called “chiptunes,” but the grinding riffage of thrash metal encoded into modulating signals is what really touches a soft spot in me. Super Retro Thrash is, from the press of the play button, an album that doesn’t slow, keeping a blistering pace while paying tribute to an indispensable piece of late 80s childhood wistfulness. Here’s what they had to say about it:
For no reason at all, we started making 8-bit, NES-style adaptations of some of our songs. This collection brings 9 of these blippy thrash metal anthems together, including 2 never before heard songs from the much-awaited fourth album: “Combat Mosh” and “Wage Slave.” Why would you want to buy an album of thrash metal songs adapted to sound like it’s coming out of an antique video game system? I dunno but what the hell, it’s 5 bucks.
There it is, you heard it straight from the mouth of the beast, buy or die. Psst, don’t tell them I told you but if you sneak on over to their bandcamp, the album is uploaded in its entirety for you to sample. Hope you guys dig it as much as I did.
The reason they put choking hazards on toys nowadays can be attached, almost singularly, to the existence of Polly Pocket. Manufactured by Bluebird Toys, an independent company based in England that would later be acquired by toy goliath, Mattel, Polly Pocket consisted of a shrunken-down, stereotypical, “valley girl” character (Polly) along with her miniature accessories and interchangeable outfits packed into a dreamscape that folds right up, into, what resembles, a makeup case. The tiny pieces within the outer shell, once misplaced, left the toy completely worthless causing parents to bear the brunt of a discontented or dead child, depending on if the pieces slipped through a crack in the sidewalk or down a throat becoming lodged in the air passage. Polly actually underwent a recall in 2006 for this very issue.
And now, a little something for the boys. Polly’s younger and more daring male counterpart Mighty Max, something, due to my gender, I’m way more knowledgeable about and keen on discussing, hit stores in 1992, also manufactured by Bluebird, playing off of the “eww” factor that young males so voraciously bought into. I was no exception to the rule and was set on snatching up all of these “spooky,” “scary,” compact toys, down to the last, highly-losable figurine. Mighty Max toys were pocket-sized worlds in the shape of snakes, skulls, and other creatures of the night, offering in the jaws of the beast, an environment and a chance to roleplay and plot interactions between hero and villain. Each plastic landscape had the coolest names too, so rad they made me wonder if someone’s job there was to come up with the titles of each individual snap-case.
The toys were categorized into Doom Zones and Horror Heads and, if my memory serves me, the only difference between them was the shape and look of the exterior carrier. My personal collection included Mighty Max Conquers the Temple of Venom, Mighty Max Escapes From Skull Dungeon, Mighty Max Challenges Lava Beast, Mighty Max Pulverizes Sea Squirm, and the list goes on and on. Now, when I say the pieces were small, I mean miniscule. I managed to lose the figurines within a matter of weeks and after going through a trunk of my old playthings a few months ago, I had only the cases left, a timeworn skeleton of my Mighty Max intrigue, with no movable pieces in sight.
A mint condition Mighty Max set, if any kid could keep one that way, is comprised of a Max figure along with two or three enemy figures. Once those are gone, all fun is lost forever. To promote the toys, a shitty cartoon was developed in the early ’90s about an entitled, blonde-haired brat who finds an enchanted baseball cap. Nobody really knows how he acquired the cap, I’ve heard theories about Max’s dad leaving it to him, Max breaking his mother’s statue and finding it inside, and Max discovering it in his mailbox, but, regardless the process, the hat allows him to timetravel, fight monsters, and embark on a quest to fell the perpetratin’ Skullmaster.
The damned things are on eBay as we speak, going for upwards of 200 smackers. If i’d have know I might not have……well no, I woulda still abused the shit out of them and misplaced everything.
If you still find yourself longing for a worthy nerd-cinema follow-up to 2006′s Darkon, you may be in luck. Premiering hot on the heels of the Toy Masters trailer at this years Comic-Con, came the preview for a documentary which might nicely fill the role of successor. Unique to the subjects highlighted in Darkon, however, the dorks in this trailer don’t fight with foam weapons when they dress up in costumes, but rather seem to prefer walking around convention centers. The film in question is entitled My Other Me, and will highlight the generally undocumented universe of cosplay enthusiasts, as well as the functions they’re wont to attend.
Speaking truthfully, I really have no knowledge or insight when it comes to this bizarre cos-play sub-culture, so I’m relatively intrigued at the prospect of sitting down to watch the thing. The closest I’ve ever come to truly scratching the surface of this hobby came when I scribble all over a white trash bag with a sharpie marker, in an effort to pump out a passable DIY Rorschach mask. Unfortunately, marking up a plastic bag with a series of blobs doesn’t prevent it from causing respiratory asphyxiation. As you could imagine, my creation presented a fairly significant health risk, so I pretty much sent my costume making aspirations out to pasture.
Anyway, the film will specifically highlight the plight of three cos-play enthusiasts who all hail from different places, and posses disparate back stories. According to the film’s website, one of its subjects, named Lucas, was actually “transitioning from female to male with hormone therapy and surgeries” as the film was being produced. I figured we’d be presented with two hours of some slob making a Worf mask in his basement here, but it seems My Other Me may be bringing more to the table than I had at first assumed.
While I’m sure this trio of characters will provide the fodder for an interesting documentary, I also wouldn’t mind catching a glimpse of a few slave Leia’s by the time the credits roll on My Other Me. At the end of the day, that’s all any of us really want, right?
