Flaming Chords

This is my front page. All comments here are screened; if you don't have my email address, you can drop me a line here. If I know your email address, I'll reply by email -- if not, I'll reply to your comment, and then rescreen both your comment and my reply.

It's also got every tag I have -- this is because my current LJ style doesn't include a tag index. (At least half of my participation on LJ is on my Treo. I chose this style because it loads quickly and it's still readable on a small screen.)

I'd tell you more about myself, but that's what my profile -- and the rest of my journal -- are for.

For those of you who don't read angryalien_feed, the Thirty Second Bunny Troupe has been making condensed, animated versions of movies for a few years now, and most of them have been really damned funny. Sadly, they just had their first creative failure. They've now made a few dozen really good cartoons... and one really awful one.

I'm being unfair. The awful one is based on Twatlight, after all. And awful as it is, it's likely a few thousand times better than its source material. Those of you who've seen the movie, you should go watch the cartoon, and see which one is better.

(Their next project is Hellraiser. Bunny Pinhead is going to be totally bad ass. And by "bad ass," I mean absolutely hilarious.)

( This post has three videos which, all together, include political commentary, british celebrities, misogyny, the mangling of a scene from a classic disney movie, and a really offensive word being used seventy-five times. If this might offend you, please don't click. )

Dear Interplanet Janet,

You and all your little friends were loads of fun when I was eight. When I saw you at a friend's birthday party, you were absolutely freakin' adorable. But look, it's been two fucking days, you're still in my head, I've been hearing your story in my sleep, and you are really starting to drive me bugshit crazy. For the love of puppies, kittens, and padded rooms everywhere, could you please get out of my head?

And while I'm asking favors of you, could I trouble you to unpack your adjectives somewhere else? I'm at my wit's end here. I'm so desperate, I'm a hair's breadth away from siccing badgers on you!

Sincerely,
flamingchords

I am a good deal less depressed than I was earlier, for having seen these cartoons again, so...

Ladies, gentleman, and soon-to-be hellbound souls of all ages, I present Apocalypse Cartoons!

Marvel! at the drug abuse, domestic abuse, and lots of other kinds of abuse depicted in Rats on Cocaine. The first five episodes are fairly realistic, if you ignore little details like talking rodents -- they include pop culture, geek culture, and more about the population control measures employed by rats than you ever cared to know. The next three episodes are a lot more surreal: we meet absurd pimpin' stereotypes, multiple personalities, and the most frightening little homunculus I've ever seen in animation: Claus, the Prankster Bug!

Strangely, this isn't the most offensive thing on the site. That dubious honor would doubtlessly go to Father Tucker, the Child Fucker. If you are any kind of Christian at all, don't watch this. Father Tucker defiles the Shroud of Turin in the very first episode, and it goes straight downhill from there. (Except for episode five, which was obviously inspired by cartoons like this one. This cartoon is done with humor, considering the subject matter -- but it's still completely fucked up.

There's more on the site, but either you'll discover it on your own, or what I've written so far will scare you away for good, so there's really no point in me going any further into it.


(I was tempted to borrow an icon from one of you: a picture of a raffle ticket that said "ADMIT ONE: STRAIGHT TO HELL." Instead, I'm using my Jerry Springer: the Opera icon. Somehow, "what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fucking fucking fuck?" with Jerry Springer in Hell seems just as appropriate.)

Saw in 30 seconds, performed by bunnies.

"Hey, honey. Hope you get this message. Guess what? We didn't die! Hope you didn't, uh, saw off a foot or anything, 'cos we're fine now. Okay, hopefully, we'll talk to you soon. 'Kay, bye!"

Hilarious! This is one of the three things that could make the whole damned Saw franchise entertaining (the others being alcohol and head injuries). I hope to see the bunnies' take on the other Saw films.

Speaking of which, considering that I've now seen all of the first three films, I'm probably going to end up seeing the fourth, just so that I can tear it to pieces in a journal post. The only thing I haven't decided is how I'm going to sneak alcohol into the theater. Maybe being disoriented and not thinking so clearly are just the things to make this movie genuinely scary.

(If it's actually any damned good, I'll eat my words. But come on, look at the first three. How likely is that?)

I Saw Bunnies is part of a series on Shit Sandwiches

The Movies: Saw I • Saw II • Saw III • Saw IV • Saw V • Saw VI Other Comments: I Saw Bunnies • Saw Home Alone • Saw in 15 seconds

Hey, look! Space is Dum! But as "dum" as space is, at least there's no Starbucks in space. (Yet. A couple of the characters in this show are working on that, though.)

"Super Susie Rocker Chick!
If you're bad she'll kick your butt!"

"Objection!"

        "Objection!"

                "Objection!"

                        "Objection!"

                                "Objection!"

As much as I dislike Andy Dick, he does sometimes -- rarely -- manage to be funny. In this case, I found him playing Marilyn Manson, not once but twice, and playing a half-human half-vulcan ass-baby at Shatner's roast. Hmm. Andy Dick as an ass-baby. Suddenly it all makes sense. I think I'll stick with George Takei, though. "Look at all the talent we have in this room tonight: Farrah Fawcett, Betty White, Lisa Lampanelli... it smells like pussy in here. (I think.)"

And on the subject of gay men, here's one giving out fashion advice. I'm sure I'd either laugh or be offended if I actually understood what he was talking about -- possibly both. All I knew about jeans is that I like 501's and they like me back. Now, I know that if mom-jeans and carpenter-jeans had children, it would cause fashion mavens everywhere to die from projectile vomiting. Of course, I still have no idea what carpenter-jeans or mom-jeans are, and I suspect he just doesn't like moms or carpenters. I also don't know my boot-cut from my low-cut from my low-rise, but hey, he's funny. He's a bit like those dudes on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, but with a cute cohost. And both of them are much bitchier.

And now, a segue from gay men over to nine-inch... nails. Yes, nails. Sorry, I lose at segues, but there is some dick in these videos, so that still counts, right? When the hell did Nine Inch Nails become so damned creepy? Is this recent, or have I just been out of the popular music loop that long?

And just in case you haven't been traumatized enough by music videos that feature sexual mutilation, I offer the flash animation Rats on Cocaine. Warning: it has lots of vulgar language, cartoon violence, heavy drug use, abusive relationships, 80's pop culture and geek culture references, and more about the population control measures sometimes taken by rats than you ever wanted to know.

I have a gorram, srizonified, frelling drenning cold. Again.

Didn't I go through this shit two fucking months ago?

Grr.

Anyway, in unrelated news, Wile E Coyote gets laid, and he's apparently much better in bed than Marvin Martian. And Ash, from Pokémon, is just a sick bastard. (These aren't work safe. Funny, but not work safe.)

Cats totally rule.

Yyyyep. They do indeed.

Cats just totally fucking rule. ("Oh pretty lesbians, why do I like making biscuits with my paw-pads?")

Some of those links are kinda demanding, when it comes to bandwidth. In fact, most of them are. But they're worth it. Because they're cats! Kitty-cats! And they dance-dance-dance and they dance-dance-dance!

For those of you unfamiliar, the Thirty Second Bunny Troupe absolutely rules. I've just finished watching the bunny treatment of Brokeback Mountain, and I'm giggling like mad. (The line "I wish I knew how to quit you" was just pure comedy in this version.)

Anyway, here's something I'd really love to see done in thirty seconds by bunnies. PHEER MY LEET MSPAINT SKILLZ!

FlameGod develops a bit of maturity...

Sooooome-one on my f-list mentioned having heard a Gordon Lightfoot song for the first time in years. As I remembered "If You Could Read My Mind," it was one of those simple, yet lovely, songs, and way back when I first heard it, it bored the shit out of me. (Hey, give me a break. I was ten!)

I just found it online, and listened to it a couple of times. It continues to be simple and lovely... and it's no longer boring. If anything, it's more lovely -- it almost hurts to listen to it.

(Sorry. I've just got a bit of my wayward teenage years caught in my eye. Don't mind me.)


...but that bit of maturity soon goes away.

I'd like to dedicate this work in progress to swtalmnd and elfscribe5, who inspired it; to a kindly sprite I won't name, who made it possible by e-mailing me the original song; and to Janet Jackson, a great dancer with a wonderful sense of humor. (I hope.)

Surfin' on the internet, readin' nasty plots.
Readin' 'bout two gentlemen really gets me off.
...that's right, I admit it.

(CHORUS)
Slashy slashy boys, written just for me!
Oh you slashy boys.
Slashy slashy boys, subtext is king!
Oh you slashy boys.

You say you'd rather be with girls, I know that this is true.
In all the stories that I've read, men get so far with you!
"He's just a friend?" Uh huh, I know... say...

(REPEAT CHORUS)
Slashy slashy boys, written just for me!
Oh you slashy boys...

As some of you know, I collect flash animations -- I have at least a gig and a half of .swf files on my computer. Also, as some of you know, I find a certain amusement in watching someone come up with a new idea, and then watching screaming hordes of copycats pounce on it and milk its teats senseless until it begs for mercy. Unsurprisingly, these two things often overlap.

For example, the llama song, which led to the Sawyer song and the dalek song. But hey, at least those are all kinda entertaining! Sometimes, they are not.

You've all seen the badgers, right? And then you saw footy, by the same guy, right? Notice how the song batters its way into your head and then drops its anchor in it? Well, some people think that repeating loops are the shiznit, and Harry Potter could use one (thanks for reminding me, Dent). Some people think that repeating loops are so kewl that they can bring the funny even to blatant racism or furries in shit-filled diapers.

I know I shouldn't have to say this, but be prepared for some offensive content if you click on those last two. Also, be prepared for massive suckage.

Foamy the Squirrel, parodied well

Check this shit out, if you're NOT AT WORK. It's a tribute to Ill Will Press, and it's funnier than most of the actual episodes. I've just watched it ten times. It's twisted, wrong, and horribly offensive, and I'm starting to have stomach cramps from laughing.


If you thought Cho Aniki was gay...

I will never understand Japanese culture. Take these guys dressed up as big phallic flamingoes that I included as a side dish for a post on bitching in fandom about George (Sulu) Takei coming out of the closet. The head guy is apparently a major celebrity on TV in Japan.

Yeah. Japanese talk-show host or variety-show host or something. Weird.


A little late for Halloween, but what the hell...

Bonus Stage is one of those acquired tastes, normally, but redubbing Pop-Eye was close to genius.

Since lately "everyone else" on GAFF seems to be bitching in their LJ's about the influx of morons...

( I'm bitching about my favorite online forum and how certain things about it irritate me. In other words, this post is 98% pure wank. As such, feel free to skip this entry entirely if you wish -- I won't be offended. On the other hand, if you care to stick around, click here for -- among other things -- an answer to the question ''Just what the hell is GAFF, anyway?'' )

Recently, I got a look behind the curtain. Or, in the words of a certain individual whom I won't name, I was given a key to the executive washroom¹.

For a while, I just thought a few senior members were being bitchy -- now I get to see all the shit they're bitching about, most of which I almost never see. All the newer members who can't spell and make no effort to spell, all the troll-feeding (come on, they're not even very good trolls!), all the posts that read "pass the bleach and/or spork² and/or goggles, which do nothing!" A couple of threads in the luxury lavatory exist to point out the worst examples of this kind of probouleutic dead weight. (I love the internet. It's great for those occasions when you just know there's gotta be a word for... that thing!)

It seems their foul mood is contagious, since I've apparently caught it. With any luck, I'll get over it quickly -- or failing that, I'll at least try to be entertaining about it. In the meantime, I present the following flash cartoons:

• You can't spell. (Not really safe for viewing at work.)
  
  
• Strongbad E-mail. (For those who mix up "it's" and "its.")
  
  
• Your all gay. (As opposed to, say, Y-O-U-apostrophe-R-E.)

---



1. One section of the board is only open to people who've contributed money to GAFF's operating costs. Occasionally, people contribute on behalf of others to get them access. (Yes, I was sponsored in this way.)
   
   
2. All of these phrases are used to express horror at how bad something is; according to tradition, bleach is the best way to scrub out one's own brain, and a spork is the perfect eye-removing tool. Once upon a time, these phrases were new and clever. Now, they have as much semantic content as "have a nice day." It's like saying "this story sucks." The problem is, not only is this kind of criticism useless to a writer who wants to improve, it's no damned fun to read. It's also the kind of criticism that can be used over and over, without taking the trouble to come up with some clever way to poke fun at the story, or even read it.

Two days ago, I got back to the Bay Area.

Thanks to one bus being delayed by snow, what should have been a six-hour trip ended up taking closer to ten. For the last leg of the trip, I was seated next to a hyper ten-year-old in a twenty-year-old body. Thus, I didn't drive my fellow passengers insane on that part of the trip. (For the most part, we focused on annoying each other. I won. It was hardly fair -- I had ten years' practice over him.)

As glad as I am to have thoroughly hooked my mom on Raspberry Altoids and Thirty Second Bunny Theater, I am glad to be back home.