Rhymes with W.A.N.D.
Just a test. Many more to come...
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Interesting Things I Have Done
One reason I'm decent at making up stories is that I never feel like I have all that many non-fiction stories of my own. I just tend to tell the same ones over and over. Here, then, is the definitive list of interesting things I have done, in no particular order.
Gone skinny dipping
Travelled across Europe.
Hitchhiked from Wales to London on a Sunday (this is hard!)
Taken a hot air balloon ride in Africa.
Gone to Summer camp.
Accidentally hit on a girl who was ten years younger than me.
Consistently dated way out of my league.
Started dating at 15.
Grown up with someone who is disabled.
Worked on film sets with movie stars.
Directed short films.
Produced short films.
Driven a cube truck in New York City.
Made out on top a 15th-century watch tower.
Watched a lot of movies.
Learned a lot about T.V.
Managed the Pioneer Theater on Manhattan's Lower East Side.
Travelled across this great land.
Never been to Mexico.
Lived in Ecuador.
Gone to an international school.
Fallen in love.
Learned to speak Spanish, mostly.
Bought a piece of art.
Eaten some really good ribs.
Made really good friends with my cousin.
Gotten a baby brother.
Written for a newspaper.
Written a movie script.
That's it.
updated 3/5/08
Gone skinny dipping
Travelled across Europe.
Hitchhiked from Wales to London on a Sunday (this is hard!)
Taken a hot air balloon ride in Africa.
Gone to Summer camp.
Accidentally hit on a girl who was ten years younger than me.
Consistently dated way out of my league.
Started dating at 15.
Grown up with someone who is disabled.
Worked on film sets with movie stars.
Directed short films.
Produced short films.
Driven a cube truck in New York City.
Made out on top a 15th-century watch tower.
Watched a lot of movies.
Learned a lot about T.V.
Managed the Pioneer Theater on Manhattan's Lower East Side.
Travelled across this great land.
Never been to Mexico.
Lived in Ecuador.
Gone to an international school.
Fallen in love.
Learned to speak Spanish, mostly.
Bought a piece of art.
Eaten some really good ribs.
Made really good friends with my cousin.
Gotten a baby brother.
Written for a newspaper.
Written a movie script.
That's it.
updated 3/5/08
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Why I Shaved My Beard
Boris knows 10,000 ways to kill a man, or so he says. I myself was always skeptical of the 10,000 ways claim. I once listed the number of ways I knew how to kill a man, sort of as a control group, and I only made it up to 237.
The 10,000 figure seemed to me, then, to be highly suspect. I thought it was typical Boris posturing, just what you'd suspect from a two foot long sheep puppet slash accomplished Russian spy who has crashing at my place rent-free for the better part of ten years.
For one thing, I asked him, wasn't 10,000 a bit round for such a fickle number? Surely there must be a great deal of estimating there.
"I rounded down," he said.
For a journalist (or former), a plausible answer that is also an excuse is like a red flag to a bull. Suddenly I had to know. So I indulged him. I asked Boris to list the ways he knew to kill a man. So began one of the most disturbing half hours of my life.
Boris' answers were not just plausible, they were chillingly specific. Where as my written list of man-killers would read like "32. Gun," Boris's were like meticulously plotted novels. They were not limited to weapon, wound and way of escape, but included such nuances as time of day, geographical location, size and body type of the intended victim, and detail after disturbing detail.
It was just too much for me. After it became clear that Boris could easily match or exceed my number, I decided it was perhaps less important to verify Boris' figure than to avoid spending the rest of my life thinking about how he could disfigure my own. That was about a year ago.
I'd since let this incident pass in to an amusing memory of a horrifying moment. Then, last month, I'd been working on planning a conference in San Francisco, and I'd sort of let myself go a bit. I wasn't getting enough sleep, and I barely had enough time to shower.
On the plus side, I had grown a wonderful beard - well past a goatee, full facial, with lovely amber highlights I'd always suspected I had but had never known for sure. Sure, it was arguably a product of my own laziness, but I also saw it as a sort of badge of maturity and pride. No one else at work had managed such a significant beard, that was for sure.
Then, one day, I found Boris just sitting there on the couch, staring at me. Because Boris is a stuffed sheep with no internal means of locomotion, this would otherwise seem perfectly natural, but something about the way he was staring gave me an oddly familiar chill down my spine. I asked him what was on his mind.
"If I put that thing in your paper shredder, it would look like an accident," he said.
So that's why I shaved my beard.
The 10,000 figure seemed to me, then, to be highly suspect. I thought it was typical Boris posturing, just what you'd suspect from a two foot long sheep puppet slash accomplished Russian spy who has crashing at my place rent-free for the better part of ten years.
For one thing, I asked him, wasn't 10,000 a bit round for such a fickle number? Surely there must be a great deal of estimating there.
"I rounded down," he said.
For a journalist (or former), a plausible answer that is also an excuse is like a red flag to a bull. Suddenly I had to know. So I indulged him. I asked Boris to list the ways he knew to kill a man. So began one of the most disturbing half hours of my life.
Boris' answers were not just plausible, they were chillingly specific. Where as my written list of man-killers would read like "32. Gun," Boris's were like meticulously plotted novels. They were not limited to weapon, wound and way of escape, but included such nuances as time of day, geographical location, size and body type of the intended victim, and detail after disturbing detail.
It was just too much for me. After it became clear that Boris could easily match or exceed my number, I decided it was perhaps less important to verify Boris' figure than to avoid spending the rest of my life thinking about how he could disfigure my own. That was about a year ago.
I'd since let this incident pass in to an amusing memory of a horrifying moment. Then, last month, I'd been working on planning a conference in San Francisco, and I'd sort of let myself go a bit. I wasn't getting enough sleep, and I barely had enough time to shower.
On the plus side, I had grown a wonderful beard - well past a goatee, full facial, with lovely amber highlights I'd always suspected I had but had never known for sure. Sure, it was arguably a product of my own laziness, but I also saw it as a sort of badge of maturity and pride. No one else at work had managed such a significant beard, that was for sure.
Then, one day, I found Boris just sitting there on the couch, staring at me. Because Boris is a stuffed sheep with no internal means of locomotion, this would otherwise seem perfectly natural, but something about the way he was staring gave me an oddly familiar chill down my spine. I asked him what was on his mind.
"If I put that thing in your paper shredder, it would look like an accident," he said.
So that's why I shaved my beard.
Sunday, December 09, 2007
Back to Zero
It's Sunday night. I've done the three weeks of dishes, bagged three months of recycling and four months of newspapers, taken out the trash, read the usual array of comics, found my watched, fixed two lamps, cleaned the bathroom, cleaned the living room, cleaned out the closet, scrubbed the counter, fed the cat, gotten eight hours of sleep, eaten breakfast and lunch, ordered dinner, wrote some cheques, watched anything pressing on the T.V., seen a friend, talked to my mom, talked to my dad, found my missing Netflix, been to the grocery store, looked for a location for a movie, watched Star Wars, vacuumed the carpets, scrubbed the sink, scrubbed the shower, scrubbed the toilet, checked my home email, checked my work email, straightened up, pet the cat, fed the cat, changed the kitty litter, moved some furniture, moved the coat, broke my blender, cleaned up the broken blender, bought more coffee, sat on the couch, changed all the light bulbs, drank a pot of coffee, drank six glasses of water, found some other stuff that had been missing, taken a shower, gotten dressed, and sat around. Not necessarily in that order.
Now what?
There's a strange universal feeling that one only experiences on a long Sunday afternoon. Douglas Adams wrote about it - that time when you've taken as many baths as you can usefully take in a day and you realize that you're probably not going to use the revolutionary method of pruning you're reading about in the Sunday paper.
Woody Allen wrote about how we tend to make small problems for ourselves because we don't know how to deal with the big problems.
I wrote about liminal feeling not too long ago, as well. I think the difference between now and then is that now I have a job - where as before I was killing time between nothin' and nothin', now I am stuck waiting for tomorrow, and I have a pretty good idea of exactly what tomorrow will consist of.
I work pretty hard, not enough to do any long-term damage the way working 14-hour days as a grip could do long-term damage, but hard enough to wear down my batteries. Then I spend a weekend resting up, I set everything in the apartment up to be used again, and I'm back to zero.
Which leaves me, where exactly? My life is not fundamentally different than it was Friday night, and it's not going to fundamentally change between now and Monday morning.
The thing about the big problems or the big questions is that I don't deal with them in a moment, I deal with them over a long period of time. From week to week, it's easy to feel like things just stay the same.
Oop. Dinner's here. Maybe I can put off the big problems for a bit longer...
Now what?
There's a strange universal feeling that one only experiences on a long Sunday afternoon. Douglas Adams wrote about it - that time when you've taken as many baths as you can usefully take in a day and you realize that you're probably not going to use the revolutionary method of pruning you're reading about in the Sunday paper.
Woody Allen wrote about how we tend to make small problems for ourselves because we don't know how to deal with the big problems.
I wrote about liminal feeling not too long ago, as well. I think the difference between now and then is that now I have a job - where as before I was killing time between nothin' and nothin', now I am stuck waiting for tomorrow, and I have a pretty good idea of exactly what tomorrow will consist of.
I work pretty hard, not enough to do any long-term damage the way working 14-hour days as a grip could do long-term damage, but hard enough to wear down my batteries. Then I spend a weekend resting up, I set everything in the apartment up to be used again, and I'm back to zero.
Which leaves me, where exactly? My life is not fundamentally different than it was Friday night, and it's not going to fundamentally change between now and Monday morning.
The thing about the big problems or the big questions is that I don't deal with them in a moment, I deal with them over a long period of time. From week to week, it's easy to feel like things just stay the same.
Oop. Dinner's here. Maybe I can put off the big problems for a bit longer...
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
For The Record...
Friday, October 26, 2007
The Gibson Expense Account Fantasy
I read William Gibson's new novel, Spook Country, in the week of Aug. 22, 2007. I know the exact date because that was when I saw this interview with Gibson in The Onion A/V Club.
Once I realized Gibson had a new book out, I immediately bought it and read it. I didn't even finish reading the interview.
Why is William Gibson so important? The way I always introduce a conversation about Gibson is to explain that he invented the term "cyberspace," which those of you over 25 or so might remember as important in the early (pre-Google-ish) internet.
More importantly then the term, of course, is the concept. Early on, we thought of our online universe as what Gibson calls the "goggles and gloves school of virtual reality." (See Johnny Mnemonic, Hackers, Disclosure, blah blah blah).
The idea of such a space, and Gibson speaks to this quite well in his A/V interview, was fundamental to gelling the idea of the internet for the people who went ahead and invented it.
So Gibson created the then science fiction concept that led to the defining real-world innovation of our generation, and all this in just his first novel, Neuromancer. Since Neuromancer, Gibson has published eight novels and a collection of short stories, Burning Chrome
Except for Difference Engine, I've read them all, and a couple of patterns have jumped out at me. First, and I think this is extremely telling, Gibson's most recent novels, Spook Country and the excellent Pattern Recognition, are not science fiction. At least, they are set in the present time and use pretty much the technology of the day.
I like this a lot, because it is further evidence that you and I are living in the future. I've always had this idea that you can take common tropes from sci-fi and fantasy and translate them directly through analogy in to today's world.
For example, no one I know is actually a vampire, but we all know people who live off others' life energy in a different way - sap others' will, drain their money without giving any reward, stuff like that. Take a vampire, forget the blood and the sleeping in coffins, and you've got a certain type of lawyer or a Hollywood agent. Take it one step further, and you could translate Interview With a Vampire in to a pretty good Hollywood morality tale.
Gibson's science fiction no longer has to be science fiction. No one's making commercial flights in Low Earth Orbit, but with a fall in barriers to travel and cheap airfare abroad, we are pretty much travelling like we're in LEO space craft anyway.
No one's using goggles and gloves, but we're all using handheld global communications and informations devices, and even the occasional wireless modem. There aren't any actual aliens around, but with globalization and international markets, you can take walk to another neighborhood in New York and feel like you're on another planet. So we're living a version of Gibson's future already.
(By the way, if you need evidence that Gibson had this figured out way before I did, protagonist of Neuromancer: "Case." Protagonist of Pattern Recognition: "Cayce.")
The other thing that raised my interest by running across Gibson's various books is that, despite their obvious differences in subject and time period, Gibson's novels tend to share a lot of themes and a lot of plot devices.
I could talk about Gibson's grand themes, his take on technology, how art and communications are bringing people together or keeping them apart, how globalisation and consumerism are both creating needless goods and generating a global market or audience for the truly heartfelt art among us, and other large and grandiose ideas, but
1) you'd really do better to read Pattern Recognition, take a look the discussion on Gibson's blog, and form your own ideas,
2) I'm sure somebody else has done a much better job with this already, and
3) this blog isn't about addressing the thematic basis of our own world, it's about making tiny and carefully argued points about obscure media really well, and also sometimes posting pictures of legos.
I'll turn my effusive rant, then, to Gibson's favorite plot devices. First, Gibson loves the MacGuffin, and I love Gibson's MacGuffins right back. Neuromancer had Case chasing a word, Pattern Recognition had Cayce after an author, in Spook Country everyone's after a box, All Tomorrow's Parties they are chasing a world-shifting event. Gibson never leaves out a good MacGuffin.
Gibson's heros, however, tend to be ordinary in the global scheme of things, even down on their luck: drug addicts, the neurotic, a journalist, nothing-special hackers.
So you need a way for hero to chase MacGuffin. Enter the rich patron. In Neuromancer, this part is played by a criminally ambitious AI. In the recent books, the part is played by an overly ambitious Belgian advertising billionaire.
I love how you can see the traces of Gibson's imagined future of yesteryear translated in to his imagined present of today. For example, Wintergreen, the AI in Neuromancer, is built around the principal of not knowing the word that will unlock his abilities, so as better to keep him from comitting the dangerous Turring fete of making himself smarter (there is even a "Turring Police" that foil these AI's attempts to enrich themselves with deadly force).
Analogously, our Belgian advertising billionaire's character is first described as being centered on the idea that he can see nothing funny about his own name. That name: Hubertus Bigend.
(Incidentally, I am convinced that this latest Gibson cycle will eventually be referred to as the "Bigend Trilogy.")
So we have the rich and powerful patron to move the ordinary but somehow unique protagonist on a series of plot crucial and exciting tasks that Gibson obviously researched extensively and so is able to excitingly dismiss in throw away plot points like over-written message board posts about obscure footage, buying antique computing technology of the 1970s and spoofing black ICE with a data packet disguised as an ordinary accounting request.
Still, we need a means to an end, a way to get our hero from point A to point B, a way of giving these unique but ordinary people the power of the patron with out their necessarily understanding the intricacies of how it is used, and to overcome ordinary, plot-encumbring obstacles like airfare and walking-around money.
Which brings me to the final of the puzzle, the part of the post where I move from the obscure stuff you, the gentle reader, may not be able to make sense of even if you've read all this shit and on to the one, simple idea I probably could have laid out in the beginning if I wasn't so excited about writing everything inbetween then and now.
I speak of course of the semi-all-powerful, high-credit limit and no-questions asked expense account.
The escapist dream of living in a future where everything from Boston to Atlanta is all part of the same dirty and underlit urban sprawl has absolutely nothing on the fantasy of an unlimited, no-questions asked expense account.
God I love the idea of this expense account. Stay in a posh hotel, call the company travel agent to get booked on a first-class flight to Japan that very same day, and buy yourself that obscure Japanese-made WWII replicant American fighter jacket that comes up all the time, right now, today, no questions asked, and absolutely guilt-free.
In the real world, travelling on an expense account is never like this. The closest I've come personally is taking care of tasks as a PA on a commercial (budgets on commercials are really high - once I was sent out on an ordinary run and ended up taking four thousand dollars in cash across town for the production coordinator's petty cash).
Even then, I felt a little guilty about spending the production's money, and I'd never do it unnecessarily (although I've met many PAs who have no problem doing this). Receipts had to be accounted for. Efficiency is valued. You need to call your key for approval.
More often, of course, I was managing expenses on a shoot of my own, inevitably low-budget to begin with, and expenses that I have to manage are so frought with worry that there's really no point in comparing them to a fantasy expense account at all.
Friends of mine who travel on the expense account of a big company tell me it's fun at first and then almost immediately loses its appeal. I mean, you can only eat foie gras and steak so many meals of the day before you're sick of it and fat.
Worse, some people I know come to depend on their expense account, so that they get to a point where they couldn't feed themselves if they quit their jobs or stopped working through two or three meal times a day. Who wants to spend every waking moment trapped in opulence?
Gibson expense account are great not just because of the resources they deliver, but because they are truly justified and guilt-free. They are appointed for a specific purpose, something the expense account provider can provide that only the expense account recipient can do, and inevitably something important, even world-changing, and (in the best novels), something that is also of singular importance to the protagonist.
That's what makes the Gibson expense account such a fantasy: not the money, but the ability to navigate obstacles with a singularity of power and purpose that each of us can envy.
Once I realized Gibson had a new book out, I immediately bought it and read it. I didn't even finish reading the interview.
Why is William Gibson so important? The way I always introduce a conversation about Gibson is to explain that he invented the term "cyberspace," which those of you over 25 or so might remember as important in the early (pre-Google-ish) internet.
More importantly then the term, of course, is the concept. Early on, we thought of our online universe as what Gibson calls the "goggles and gloves school of virtual reality." (See Johnny Mnemonic, Hackers, Disclosure, blah blah blah).
The idea of such a space, and Gibson speaks to this quite well in his A/V interview, was fundamental to gelling the idea of the internet for the people who went ahead and invented it.
So Gibson created the then science fiction concept that led to the defining real-world innovation of our generation, and all this in just his first novel, Neuromancer. Since Neuromancer, Gibson has published eight novels and a collection of short stories, Burning Chrome
Except for Difference Engine, I've read them all, and a couple of patterns have jumped out at me. First, and I think this is extremely telling, Gibson's most recent novels, Spook Country and the excellent Pattern Recognition, are not science fiction. At least, they are set in the present time and use pretty much the technology of the day.
I like this a lot, because it is further evidence that you and I are living in the future. I've always had this idea that you can take common tropes from sci-fi and fantasy and translate them directly through analogy in to today's world.
For example, no one I know is actually a vampire, but we all know people who live off others' life energy in a different way - sap others' will, drain their money without giving any reward, stuff like that. Take a vampire, forget the blood and the sleeping in coffins, and you've got a certain type of lawyer or a Hollywood agent. Take it one step further, and you could translate Interview With a Vampire in to a pretty good Hollywood morality tale.
Gibson's science fiction no longer has to be science fiction. No one's making commercial flights in Low Earth Orbit, but with a fall in barriers to travel and cheap airfare abroad, we are pretty much travelling like we're in LEO space craft anyway.
No one's using goggles and gloves, but we're all using handheld global communications and informations devices, and even the occasional wireless modem. There aren't any actual aliens around, but with globalization and international markets, you can take walk to another neighborhood in New York and feel like you're on another planet. So we're living a version of Gibson's future already.
(By the way, if you need evidence that Gibson had this figured out way before I did, protagonist of Neuromancer: "Case." Protagonist of Pattern Recognition: "Cayce.")
The other thing that raised my interest by running across Gibson's various books is that, despite their obvious differences in subject and time period, Gibson's novels tend to share a lot of themes and a lot of plot devices.
I could talk about Gibson's grand themes, his take on technology, how art and communications are bringing people together or keeping them apart, how globalisation and consumerism are both creating needless goods and generating a global market or audience for the truly heartfelt art among us, and other large and grandiose ideas, but
1) you'd really do better to read Pattern Recognition, take a look the discussion on Gibson's blog, and form your own ideas,
2) I'm sure somebody else has done a much better job with this already, and
3) this blog isn't about addressing the thematic basis of our own world, it's about making tiny and carefully argued points about obscure media really well, and also sometimes posting pictures of legos.
I'll turn my effusive rant, then, to Gibson's favorite plot devices. First, Gibson loves the MacGuffin, and I love Gibson's MacGuffins right back. Neuromancer had Case chasing a word, Pattern Recognition had Cayce after an author, in Spook Country everyone's after a box, All Tomorrow's Parties they are chasing a world-shifting event. Gibson never leaves out a good MacGuffin.
Gibson's heros, however, tend to be ordinary in the global scheme of things, even down on their luck: drug addicts, the neurotic, a journalist, nothing-special hackers.
So you need a way for hero to chase MacGuffin. Enter the rich patron. In Neuromancer, this part is played by a criminally ambitious AI. In the recent books, the part is played by an overly ambitious Belgian advertising billionaire.
I love how you can see the traces of Gibson's imagined future of yesteryear translated in to his imagined present of today. For example, Wintergreen, the AI in Neuromancer, is built around the principal of not knowing the word that will unlock his abilities, so as better to keep him from comitting the dangerous Turring fete of making himself smarter (there is even a "Turring Police" that foil these AI's attempts to enrich themselves with deadly force).
Analogously, our Belgian advertising billionaire's character is first described as being centered on the idea that he can see nothing funny about his own name. That name: Hubertus Bigend.
(Incidentally, I am convinced that this latest Gibson cycle will eventually be referred to as the "Bigend Trilogy.")
So we have the rich and powerful patron to move the ordinary but somehow unique protagonist on a series of plot crucial and exciting tasks that Gibson obviously researched extensively and so is able to excitingly dismiss in throw away plot points like over-written message board posts about obscure footage, buying antique computing technology of the 1970s and spoofing black ICE with a data packet disguised as an ordinary accounting request.
Still, we need a means to an end, a way to get our hero from point A to point B, a way of giving these unique but ordinary people the power of the patron with out their necessarily understanding the intricacies of how it is used, and to overcome ordinary, plot-encumbring obstacles like airfare and walking-around money.
Which brings me to the final of the puzzle, the part of the post where I move from the obscure stuff you, the gentle reader, may not be able to make sense of even if you've read all this shit and on to the one, simple idea I probably could have laid out in the beginning if I wasn't so excited about writing everything inbetween then and now.
I speak of course of the semi-all-powerful, high-credit limit and no-questions asked expense account.
The escapist dream of living in a future where everything from Boston to Atlanta is all part of the same dirty and underlit urban sprawl has absolutely nothing on the fantasy of an unlimited, no-questions asked expense account.
God I love the idea of this expense account. Stay in a posh hotel, call the company travel agent to get booked on a first-class flight to Japan that very same day, and buy yourself that obscure Japanese-made WWII replicant American fighter jacket that comes up all the time, right now, today, no questions asked, and absolutely guilt-free.
In the real world, travelling on an expense account is never like this. The closest I've come personally is taking care of tasks as a PA on a commercial (budgets on commercials are really high - once I was sent out on an ordinary run and ended up taking four thousand dollars in cash across town for the production coordinator's petty cash).
Even then, I felt a little guilty about spending the production's money, and I'd never do it unnecessarily (although I've met many PAs who have no problem doing this). Receipts had to be accounted for. Efficiency is valued. You need to call your key for approval.
More often, of course, I was managing expenses on a shoot of my own, inevitably low-budget to begin with, and expenses that I have to manage are so frought with worry that there's really no point in comparing them to a fantasy expense account at all.
Friends of mine who travel on the expense account of a big company tell me it's fun at first and then almost immediately loses its appeal. I mean, you can only eat foie gras and steak so many meals of the day before you're sick of it and fat.
Worse, some people I know come to depend on their expense account, so that they get to a point where they couldn't feed themselves if they quit their jobs or stopped working through two or three meal times a day. Who wants to spend every waking moment trapped in opulence?
Gibson expense account are great not just because of the resources they deliver, but because they are truly justified and guilt-free. They are appointed for a specific purpose, something the expense account provider can provide that only the expense account recipient can do, and inevitably something important, even world-changing, and (in the best novels), something that is also of singular importance to the protagonist.
That's what makes the Gibson expense account such a fantasy: not the money, but the ability to navigate obstacles with a singularity of power and purpose that each of us can envy.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Porn Titles for AFI Top 100 Movies
In what may be the most immature writing exercise of all time, I have changed the titles of the American Film Institute Top 100 Movies so that they are now titles of porns.
In other news, I've recently learned that family friends read this blog. Possibly also potential employers. Look away, gentlemen, look away. I am so deeply ashamed.
I'm sure some of these really exist, but there's no way I'm linking to them.* Kids read this shit.
100. Yank My Noodle, Randy
99. Guess Who's Coming At Dinner
98. Your Dick Bitten
97. Bringing It Up Baby's Ass
96. The Smearers
95. Pulp Fuckin'
94. GoodFuckas
93. The Dorm Room
92. A Place in the Come
91. My Fair Lady And Her Hot Sister
90. The Lead Guitarist
89. Gaggin'
88. It's Easy To Ride Her
87. Frank's Back Nine [isn't that slang for something? He plays the back nine? Maybe I just made that up.]
86. Cute Annie Gets Bouncy
85. Duck Slut
84. Women of Fargo
83. Thirty to Fifty Men
82. Giant Cocks
81. Modern Times, Modern Women
80. The Wild Bush
79. The Doe Hunter
78. Rockettes
77. Anne Ericka Does The Grammies
76. City Nights
75. Dances With Wolves, Drinking With Bitches
74. The Golden Shower Rush
73. Wuthering Highs
72. Beniffer Stolen Backstage Sex Tape
71. Forrest Cunt
70. The French Connection in My Pants
69. Shame
68. Anne Ericka In Paris
67. The Manchurian Whore On Dates
66. Dick Work
65. The Silence of the Furries
64. Close Encounters of the Turd Kind
63. Stage Shows
62. Pootie
61. Virgin O's
60. Karen Allen is So Damn Sexy
59. Gay For James Dean
58. Dizney's Fantasia Ft. the Marching Broom Handles
57. The Third Leg
56. Korean Nurses Gone Wild
55. Austrian MILFs Gone Wild
54. All Quiet For West Coast Cunts
53. Nice Wig: A History of German Fucking, 1756-1791
52. Come in My Hair, Drink My Pee
51. Philadelphia Whores Gone Wild
50. When Butches Find Their Cassidies
49. Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs Stolen Backstage Sex Tape
48. Aching Jaws
47. Taxi Cab Confessionals [*except for this, of course. HBO iz teh awesum!!!!1!]
46. My Cunt Worked Pink
45. A Hooker Named Desire
44. The Birth Of A Dalmation [I'm thinking Knocked Up for the furry crowd]
43. King Cock
42. Rear Entrance
41. West Side Sucky
40. Peter North By Peter North West
39. Nurse Zhivago
38. Double Teaming A Stripper Named Destiny
37. The Best Fucks of Our Lives
36. Brokeback Mountain
35. It Happened One Night, Then Went On For Several More Nights
34. To Kill A Hooker
33. High Poon
32. The Load-buster
31. Annie Balls
30. Whores of the Sierra Madre
29. Mrs. Smith Does Washington
28. A Cock, A Lips - Now!
27. Bonnie, Clyde, And A Couple of Other Guys
26. Eyes Wide Shut
25. E.T. - The Engorged Transvestite
24. Raging Bulls, Horny Heffers
23. The Maltese Fuckin'
22. 2001: A Pretty Good Year For Sex
21. The Balls of Wrath
20. One Came On To The Cuckoo's Neck: The Best Pearl Necklaces of 1975
19. Chinatown Bathroom Hidden Camera
18. Psycho Bitches
17. African Queens
16. Balls About Eve
15. Jar-Jar Binks Being Gang Raped
14. Some Like Getting It In The Sauna
13. The Dick On The River Kwai Starring 18-Year-Old Newcomer River Kwai
12. Sunset Blew Him Hard Featuring 19-Year-Old Sunset Kwai
11. It's A Wonderful Life Starring Jimmy Stewart (1946)
10. Fuckin' In The Rain
9. Schindler's Dick
8. Public Exposure On The Waterfront
7. The Graduate 2: Mrs. Robinson's New Seductions
6. The Wizzer of Oz: Best in Golden Showers From the Emerald City [tag line: "Pay no attention to the women behind the curtain."]
5. Lawrence of 101 Arabian Nights
4. Come With the Wind
3. The Godmother
2. Wild On Casablanca
and, of course...
1. Citizen Cunt
That's it. I'm never getting in to elected office.
ps - I just realized that, although I'd written this almost a month ago, it was spending all day reading Encyclopedia Dramatica that convinced me it was, by comparison with the rest of the internet, not too shameful to post.
In other news, I've recently learned that family friends read this blog. Possibly also potential employers. Look away, gentlemen, look away. I am so deeply ashamed.
I'm sure some of these really exist, but there's no way I'm linking to them.* Kids read this shit.
100. Yank My Noodle, Randy
99. Guess Who's Coming At Dinner
98. Your Dick Bitten
97. Bringing It Up Baby's Ass
96. The Smearers
95. Pulp Fuckin'
94. GoodFuckas
93. The Dorm Room
92. A Place in the Come
91. My Fair Lady And Her Hot Sister
90. The Lead Guitarist
89. Gaggin'
88. It's Easy To Ride Her
87. Frank's Back Nine [isn't that slang for something? He plays the back nine? Maybe I just made that up.]
86. Cute Annie Gets Bouncy
85. Duck Slut
84. Women of Fargo
83. Thirty to Fifty Men
82. Giant Cocks
81. Modern Times, Modern Women
80. The Wild Bush
79. The Doe Hunter
78. Rockettes
77. Anne Ericka Does The Grammies
76. City Nights
75. Dances With Wolves, Drinking With Bitches
74. The Golden Shower Rush
73. Wuthering Highs
72. Beniffer Stolen Backstage Sex Tape
71. Forrest Cunt
70. The French Connection in My Pants
69. Shame
68. Anne Ericka In Paris
67. The Manchurian Whore On Dates
66. Dick Work
65. The Silence of the Furries
64. Close Encounters of the Turd Kind
63. Stage Shows
62. Pootie
61. Virgin O's
60. Karen Allen is So Damn Sexy
59. Gay For James Dean
58. Dizney's Fantasia Ft. the Marching Broom Handles
57. The Third Leg
56. Korean Nurses Gone Wild
55. Austrian MILFs Gone Wild
54. All Quiet For West Coast Cunts
53. Nice Wig: A History of German Fucking, 1756-1791
52. Come in My Hair, Drink My Pee
51. Philadelphia Whores Gone Wild
50. When Butches Find Their Cassidies
49. Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs Stolen Backstage Sex Tape
48. Aching Jaws
47. Taxi Cab Confessionals [*except for this, of course. HBO iz teh awesum!!!!1!]
46. My Cunt Worked Pink
45. A Hooker Named Desire
44. The Birth Of A Dalmation [I'm thinking Knocked Up for the furry crowd]
43. King Cock
42. Rear Entrance
41. West Side Sucky
40. Peter North By Peter North West
39. Nurse Zhivago
38. Double Teaming A Stripper Named Destiny
37. The Best Fucks of Our Lives
36. Brokeback Mountain
35. It Happened One Night, Then Went On For Several More Nights
34. To Kill A Hooker
33. High Poon
32. The Load-buster
31. Annie Balls
30. Whores of the Sierra Madre
29. Mrs. Smith Does Washington
28. A Cock, A Lips - Now!
27. Bonnie, Clyde, And A Couple of Other Guys
26. Eyes Wide Shut
25. E.T. - The Engorged Transvestite
24. Raging Bulls, Horny Heffers
23. The Maltese Fuckin'
22. 2001: A Pretty Good Year For Sex
21. The Balls of Wrath
20. One Came On To The Cuckoo's Neck: The Best Pearl Necklaces of 1975
19. Chinatown Bathroom Hidden Camera
18. Psycho Bitches
17. African Queens
16. Balls About Eve
15. Jar-Jar Binks Being Gang Raped
14. Some Like Getting It In The Sauna
13. The Dick On The River Kwai Starring 18-Year-Old Newcomer River Kwai
12. Sunset Blew Him Hard Featuring 19-Year-Old Sunset Kwai
11. It's A Wonderful Life Starring Jimmy Stewart (1946)
10. Fuckin' In The Rain
9. Schindler's Dick
8. Public Exposure On The Waterfront
7. The Graduate 2: Mrs. Robinson's New Seductions
6. The Wizzer of Oz: Best in Golden Showers From the Emerald City [tag line: "Pay no attention to the women behind the curtain."]
5. Lawrence of 101 Arabian Nights
4. Come With the Wind
3. The Godmother
2. Wild On Casablanca
and, of course...
1. Citizen Cunt
That's it. I'm never getting in to elected office.
ps - I just realized that, although I'd written this almost a month ago, it was spending all day reading Encyclopedia Dramatica that convinced me it was, by comparison with the rest of the internet, not too shameful to post.
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