Crash

Just gotta say that this movie and Sin City have semi-restored my faith in Hollywood. I downloaded the rip (mad props to the FiCO CREW) but liked it so much I’ll buy the DVD just for the extras. I miss Los Angeles (well, the taco trucks at least).

Rubber Johnny

From the official site: “Johnny is a hyperactive, shape-shifting mutant child, kept locked away in a basement.”
Some crazy, brilliant stuff by Chris Cunningham and Aphex Twin: LINK

Despite Everything

It’s like the greatest toilet reading material of all time. After all, what’s more depressing than reading about those in search of punk as you take a short respite from your normal, white collar salaryman existence (until you remember that this is existence is actually pretty damn unusual for an American). Anyway, it’s been a steady diet of Cometbus for the past couple weeks, since the last of my post-WWII Japan books ran out. I’m still very interested in that subject, but have pretty much run out of the good material on it. Nothing left now but to write a book on it.

Illustrator Revisited

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Just thought I’d show how low the demand for my mad graphic design skillz has fallen. I insisted on making a No Trespassing sign for our department, because it gave me a chance to leave my mark.
On a related note, I may start marketing custom-brushed t-shirts and bondage gear. Nam’s Japanese calligraphy sensei is keen on helping out with this project, and with me heading up the design effort, we are sure to appeal to at least one person… More on this as it develops.

cannot applove

Today I wasn’t allowed to correct the phrase, “for you apploval,” on an official letter because it was “written by someone on the board of directors.” The guy who told me this rolled his eyes as he said it, too. I almost snapped him in two like a pencil, but thought better of it. Instead, I asked the ficus in the break room why the hell they even bother running this crap by me if they won’t let me make corrections.
The ficus thought about it for awhile, then came up with a fairly satisfying answer: Apparently, demi-gods are allowed to make up their own grammar. Duh! Stupid me…

Par Avion

“How to ship hippopotami,” via the USPS website: LINK
You see? There are better outlets for pent-up stress than spraying the whole office with military hardball and demanding your manager pull the skin off his face to show the whole world what a monster he really is.