Doug Jones
#extradirty
RMH
pixel skylines
tannertan36
art blog(derogatory)
untitled
Discoholic 🪩
titsay
TMBGareOK. The Official They Might Be Giants tumblr
Today's Document
roma★
oozey mess
hello vonnie
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
One Nice Bug Per Day
if i look back, i am lost
gracie abrams
@theartofmadeline
shark vs the universe
seen from United States
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seen from Indonesia
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seen from United States
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seen from Brazil
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@charlie-grusin
The Brontosaurus armature from King Kong and The Son of Kong (both 1933). Looks as huggable as a rat terrier, but that foam-rubber scowl is the face of one mean fucker.
Happy two-year anniversary to this post and happy 93 years to this mean bad bitch.
New Year’s Eve: a minute and sixteen seconds before midnight, by that point you should have this dialed up and cranked real loud.
You never know.
“You are forgetting something.”
Hi I'm John Polygonwriter and I hate those stupid fucking Godzilla movies they're so crappy and dumb but I do like king Kong but only Peter Jackson's king kong because he made the lord of the rings and that was good and only his king kong is the good monster movie and if you like Godzilla.go to hell and die for real I hate you
Hi! I could’ve written about the history of King Kong from 1933 to 1976 and how the changes to the mythos preceded Jackson’s 2005 film and how Jackson integrated those to greater effect, how Jackson and WingNut Films took King Kong ‘05 as a personal victory lap after their monumental success with LOTR considering how they were initially going to remake King Kong back in the ‘90s but Universal got cool feet over Roland Emmerich’s Godzilla, how Jackson was so enamored with the original King Kong and the work of Willis O’Brien he not only made him and his team learn how to build armatures and miniature sets by hand for a 2.5hr documentary produced for a Special Edition DVD release of the film but also recreated the legendary lost “spider pit sequence” for said Special Edition DVD release of the film. I could’ve written endlessly about one of my favorite films just in time for its 20th anniversary but I won’t, I rather run circles around the subject by talking about how the MonsterVerse is a shit franchise on par with the MCU for some fucking reason but I don’t give a fuck, I don’t give a fuck about sequels I don’t give a fuck about movies I don’t even give a fuck about other King Kong films and I especially don’t give a fuck about wielding more weight to an article than a Letterboxd shitpost that goes like “hehe big monke like pretty womin.” I am a hack job!
SpaceGodzilla the B-list villain of all time. His design is based on Godzilla's powered-up form in a Super Famicom game. His debut film was so uninspired it made the special effects director and Godzilla suit actor both realize they were about done with the franchise. His defining character trait is hating kids. He was the face of a U.S. toyline several years before we could legally watch his film. His ghost possessed Godzilla in a TV show where all the monsters were portrayed by vinyl figures. He was the main villain in two fondly-remembered fighting games from the 2000s. His Magic: The Gathering card had to be reprinted with a different name because his signature weapon is the Corona Beam and it was released in the spring of 2020. He's going to be the first Toho kaiju not named Godzilla, Mothra, King Ghidorah, Mechagodzilla, or Rodan to have a major role in a feature film in over 20 years.
Stranger Things cannily ending in 1987 so it doesn't have to explain who played Lydia Deetz in Beetlejuice if not Winona Ryder
The Duffer Brothers were already flexing the balance by homaging both IT and Firestarter, having Joyce Byers and Winona Ryder co-exist in the same universe would be a cataclysm of King-sized proportions it would’ve blasted all of Hawkins to New York City where they would be besieged by vampires and door demons and abnormally large lobsters.
Prometheus (2012) : Movietalk # 14
[LIFE]
[“ATTENTION … A WORD OF WARNING… A WORD OF WARNING…”]
Ridley Scott – who would’ve thought he had it in him? I certainly didn’t, but what else could I’ve expected sampling only two works of such an expansive, ongoing filmography as his? And perhaps that’s the thing with filmographies that span such a lifetime – even if you think you’ve seen enough you ain’t seen nothing yet. Did you know William Friedkin did an adaptation of Boys in the Band before he got to Cruising?… did you know William Peter Blatty supposedly heard of Friedkin first from a historical musical laugh-riot he did called The Night They Raided Minsky’s about the very first striptease (did you know he directed a Chevy Chase-Gregory Hines and Sigourney Weaver vehicle)? A lot of us may’ve seen Taxi Driver, Goodfellas and Casino by now (though I’m an odd one out with those latter two) and yet there’s probably a lot of us who haven’t seen Scorsese’s Kundun either (let alone freakin Goncharov). So many worlds and so many movies yet so little time to go through em all, which is quite often the case why most of us fall content with knowing enough of one’s work instead (there’s always another star, another diamond to discover, papa was a rolling stone and I feel pushed to destiny to roll along his very tracks). I would love to sit down and go through every little thing directed by Ishirō Honda, Sidney Lumet, Martin Scorsese, Kinji Fukasaku and George A. Romero from their early efforts onto the swan songs (if we dare presume such a thing yet from Mr. Scorsese) and although this is something I could still theoretically do (the aspirations of youth yet knows no bounds!) it is still a daunting feat to consider, as if I myself am afraid of what endurance it may take, what enthusiasm and magic may be dulled and taken away from me in the process (whatever that process may well be). Hell I’ve even set up such an endeavor on my own behalf around monster movies – particularly American giant monster movies because you know we love em big and bad amirite (ahaha fuck me) – and I’ve only gone through the very first three on that list (so far there are eighty-nine). Is it motivation, inspiration, determination that I lack, dear Reader, or is this something that could be clearly understood from one friend to another? But perhaps this is part of why I decided to partake in this mini-Alien marathon anyways: to prove to myself that something (anything) can indeed be done.
So it was unfair for me to write off Ridley Scott as just an aestheticist without a pulse, a cat without the heart (but certainly lots of guts!) – allAlien and Blade Runner seemed to indicate to me was an artist who knew all about light and shadow but whose work never revealed more than an ounce of the human condition as I’d encountered before in the works of the filmmakers aforementioned and others; storyboards in search of a story, that kind of thing. And yet when an author or director composes what may very well be their masterpiece – if not their magnum opus – the best of all creators (but what defines the best? is it in the numbers, in the box-office records or unanimous praises, in the collective vocal legions of a fellowship or, let’s just say it, a cult? or is it something greater, something more than the words of crowds, something close to the spiritual and the personal of any fellow aspiring open-hearted soul receptive enough to let the eternal telepathic psycho-colors of a raw ferocious soul to take over them in a short duration of time compared to each other’s very lives, to leave within them seeds of growth that shall last as long as there is soil and nourishment to plant and begin anew? it certainly isn’t in the belief of objectivity and I wouldn’t suggest it – to insist otherwise would be a futile, deadly effort to enforce what is ultimately sand, then dust: your own inevitable change and passing) tend to be those who choose not to anchor themselves within past-achieved styles or self-imposed-n-foolproof film canons but those who allow to evolve upon their proceeding works by practicing continuous humility with not just the influences of their time but the influence of time passages (how one sand dune may break into three or how six may disintegrate into a single mass or into nothing at all for loss is always the possibility, the dreaded point of no return) willing to reconsider, to rethink and yes, to even reinvent themselves upon the ruthless advancing tides. And between the ever-tumultuous then-and-now, is that not what Sir Ridley Scott had accomplished here? From outer space he delved earthbound and further deep into fantasy before returning back to ground control to travel along the roads of the historical and the crime drama epic to redefine and expand upon his scope and scale of the image before he dared turn back to those strange and unusual originating stars, to explore those horizons once again... more tested, more composed, yet with a fiery mind-and-eye fury that holds little distinction from that young rocketeer cosmonaut of all those years ago; and with curiosity and a chisel by his side he sought to break the exoskeletons of Origin and breathe it new air.
[Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo!]
Star Wars was a mistake. Hyperbolic? As time passes and the mind mulls along the thoughts and echoes of others and ourselves I grow to believe the opposite less and less. Once upon that long ago that film had sparked a New Wave renaissance for independent filmmakers caught in the big leagues, a chance for those creators to make the master studios obedient to their whim by producing their films Their Way and making the studios mere distribution conduits to spread the good world around, to spark in every open-minded soul the chance to dream and Dream Big and weld their imaginations into manifested fantasy. That renaissance lived and died at the tail-end of the Eighties, and the two entities responsible for the manifestation of that far, far away space western of wonders – Lucasfilm and 20th Century Fox – now make the fat-folds of the blobulous and serpental master body of Disney, its deadly mass writhing its way across this future ghost-nation unopposed but perhaps not in defiance (perhaps it, like all the others, dreams a secret death, hoping for an inevitably glorious slaying by the hands of a reincarnated Steve McQueen and whatever hot-rodded rock-n-rolla equivalent they may possess – but it hopes for Steve McQueen in the flesh nonetheless… of course it does … and with the means of “cutting-edge” deepfake puppetry and CGI necromancy it can fantasize just that from the confines of its subterranean nesting domain, rehearsing its orgasmic death rattles on the expected point of climax).
But the residuals of that dream the studios did not forget, the defense mechanism that once held the potency to sever big corporatized hulls now an elixir system milked right from the source of undead success (flash-forward: an aquarium of facehuggers preserved in shuttle stations orbiting beyond the ice rings of light). It could be said that Star Wars was the film that first revealed to Hollywood that Nostalgia Sells Best but it’s rather that it made a great reminder (the reminder that has never been forgotten) for Star Wars was merely the innocuous and cutesy lil Orphan Annie cousin to its distant relative Gone with the Wind, a relation that admittedly seemed so far incomparable to my youth’s eye but which now stands completely unmistakable; they are elaborate fantasies, both of them inspired less from the very historical moments they sought to reflect upon but rather the skewed and exploitative mediums that were built from those tumultuous events: to George Lucas it was the war reels and the serial pulps, some of which were imbued with the historical narrative strands of All-American Triumph as emblematic as the Emmy- and Peabody-winning NBC docuseries Victory at Sea (a romantic interpretation of America’s involvement in World War II broadcast at the height and tail-end of the Korean War) and to Margaret Mitchell it was the memories of the chivalric Southern Antebellum as was passed down to her by her Confederate relatives. This can all trace farther back to the vile scorched earth that was D. W. Griffith’s Birth of a Nation of course, but whether or not Gone with the Wind had sanded off much of that film’s offensive edges in the hopes of becoming more successfully and publicly palatable or whether Star Wars had continued its legacy of the deceptive Fantasy Historic by presence alone – even if these films were somehow erased from all known experience it would never ail the strong possibility that these things, if they hadn’t manifested in these known despicable forms, then some greater, more terrible thing would’ve likely taken its place. This country after all is a land of thermonuclear Tradition, an invasive orchard of false-Eden corruption tended to by the most demented-to-devotion branch disciples of the Johnny Appleseed cults, where any fault made towards its entities of conservatorships is interpreted as an outright assault against the fabric of existence and must be slaughtered to silence – why else would it raise such a legion of followers who are willing to die for the freedom to be killed by their government anyway as near and dear as our mothers and fathers and siblings and friends and neighbors whose charities become marred by their immediate apprehension to Anyone or anything from the Other … or, for that matter, such an expansive digital caval-circus of aspiring content grifter schmucks and fraudulent pundit freaks of culture and critique who are willing to burn eleven hours of terabytes into the stratosphere about how we all crave and yearn for something fresh and extraordinary in art and fiction yet in the same breath double their bile and vitriol about how the Luke Skywalker and the He-Man and the My Little Pony and the Barbie must be preserved in another Mt. Rushmore so that our children (oh! Our Children!! as if we haven’t failed them already and made them monsters in our spitting rotting image!) can have ROLE MODELS, so that our children will know WHO to aspire to and HOW to praise them for all times!! rather than letting them find their own aspirations in the new and the living of their own experience, rather than finding aspiration in the old and the decadent of others. Fuck those kids and fuck your idols – you only wish to recede yourself from the pain of living, to sink under the folds of some gargantuan death of familial smothering.
[UNREALIZED CONCEPTS FROM ALIEN AND RIDLEY SCOTT’S/H.R. GIGER’S DUNE: the skulled Buddha castle domes of House Harkonnen, similar to “egg silo” concepts originating from Alien; a salvaged space jockey head; a fold-up Jack-in-the-box attack; and an incestuous relationship between Paul Muad’Dib and Lady Jessica Atreides, two possessive entities of power codependent on the other to secure their place of dominance.]
The crewbulk of the Prometheus want a piece of the profit margins; Weyland seeks for the last true resort of immortality, his whole skin and body like a prune on fungus; and Vickers seeks the head position of Weyland Corporation, obliged to follow her father’s wishes to the extent of taboo power plays yet ultimately seeking to surpass him all the same. David and Shaw, on the other hand, seek no material gains, no spites at stake for their paths towards discovery… however:
David was born and raised as a synthetic, programmed and manufactured with the expectations to fill a cogless gap in the Weyland Corp. “family” – it is an assured shield of artificial intelligence that assumes by design that he will abide to the ways of his masters not as parents but by that authoritative title alone. Yet perhaps in a distant future such as this – a future foreseen as far back as 1818 when Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley would publish the Gothic masterwork Frankenstein that would create much of the science fiction we know today and plant within its subtitle the film’s future namesake – even androids can dream of god envy. You can tell in the minute muscular strands loosening under his face when he registers the slight given to him by his holographed master at the recon meeting that the creation curse has not been lost in transmission. None of them would ever know that this robot can aspire towards brilliance even as he flies the wings of Icarus once adorn by that notorious Lawrence of Arabia, that this mechanical wunderkind can indeed perform wonders from the tip of his fingers, that he can hold the whole wide world in his hands and no one be the wiser but him and (perhaps) him alone until it was all too late for Man; the quieter the merrier he could suppose... but how would we to know that?
Shaw, however, was born human from the bones in her body to the blood rushing through her cheeks, someone who must know and feel all possible heartaches as the major side-effects of the mortality curse, and yet find some balance towards a state of clarity. To her that clarity is in the search of faith, a search she is determined to seek on her own if need be even if the origins she finds are of a dark and grisly nature because her search is not in question or doubt of faith but because of and fueled by faith... because if the Engineers are merely flawed and human after all, then that is merely another rung to the mystery, another path to follow in the ancient old and rich tradition of absolute curiosity; even if the path from God is paved in death cults and weapons of mass decreation, there is nothing worse than to leave another piece of the universal panorama unfounded, than letting the deep void of uncertainty gnaw the mind to madness. She is human, an explorer in the truest sense of the word. A survivor.
[WHY MUST THE HEATHEN RAGE?]
They told me I should believe in God but they never gave me the why. They told it, of course, told me if I don’t I’ll go straight to hell and burn there forever. What a cruel thing to say to someone so young and easily impressionable, but perhaps there’s never really a perfect age to promise anyone the concept of damnation. The difference however is that one adult’s taken offense is a child’s brutalization – you’ll never know how it feels until you still find yourself thinking endlessly about rejection and punishment and torment every single day of the month, every time you’re reminded of death. These last few years I attended two funerals – both of them sprinkled with memories, both of them drenched in sadness – yet it was only in one where I felt at peace and the other where I felt the reminder of cruel and unusual eternity for all disobedient souls. If I hadn’t become so alienated by backwoods gospel I think I could’ve easily been a Catholic – something about the Mass’s assurance of a continuous spirit alongside the wings of God made me willing to let faith stir in my heart for what must’ve been the first time in my life – but as I continue this strange and questionable existence I cannot help be reminded through every article and online post and every morsel of phony campaign mail of my very alienation from this potential personal peace, the reason behind my exile towards agnosticism that borderlines on atheism through spite whenever the vile and ugly tidings of this country cross the shores of this lonesomeness. And yet so far I have not become an atheist, and perhaps even now I don’t know if I truly am an agnostic either, for an inner splice of my self does believe it possible that all of creation could’ve been the result of some cosmic spectral ultra-being(s) who may’ve figured a way to weld the soups of nothingness together into this exquisite and soundly chaotic clockwork universe, and though parts of my self may sway at ease along the basic understandings of nihilism I likewise find my self striving in equal footing behind the concepts of humanism. I know the monster very well in my heart, yet I seek not to become monstrous. Maybe you get the feeling. Maybe not. Yet though I may know I more than you could possibly imagine if you ever did (if you ever do, my past and present future friends) I myself may likely not have that definitive perspective of the self as I’ve tried to excavate before in secrecy and writing alike – all that I do know, dear Friend, is that I’d rather change and transform the very geographic meanings of this being than submit to the expected antiquarian dust. Perhaps I, in my own peculiar way, still seek that God.
[MERCI – an album by French prog rock Zeuhl funk group Magma, released in 1985. Compared to their earlier, more otherworldly musical yarns which hinted at threatened civilizations and militarized death machines it’s seemingly considered by most dedicated Magma devotees to be a pop-centered cop-out; compared to every other pop release put out at the same time and since, that perspective can’t be anymore opposed. At once a tribute to soul maestro Otis Redding, it is also an enchanting masterwork that depicts the fleeing, then the ensuing inevitable acceptance, of Man unto Death.]
Parricide, filicide – the endless cycle from the pain of living. I hate this, this living – why did you make me!? (why did I make you?) To create one must first destroy, but even in the future we still never understand why some of us will gladly accept the pain of giving to creation without allowing the loss to change to burrow deep in us because everything in our manufactured course of life, from progenitor to descendant, has demanded that we merely seek to create so that we shall earn profit from it in return. Instant gratification has the weight of coins and gold bars, so fixated on the material and the now that the body aches without spare change in the pocket; that is how we’ve been taught, how we’ve been conditioned to the extent where it even affects how we practice belief. A prayer over a meal, the Pledge of Allegiance – these are rituals that possess us, making our time and bodies material essences to soothe and appease the God in question, but the prayer over the meal is an intimate affair, all its words and motions all the more personal even without a Response (for something this close and singular to the spirit must always air on the side of trust – of absolute belief) and the Pledge is nothing but a pledge to the body-as-object to the land-as-ideas beneath layers upon layers of pawns and symbols to suggest itself of cleanly godliness (the red-and-white stripes and stars, the winged Egyptian sun and the bald American eagle) a pledge that insists importance through the enforced collective militant act of offering your heart (your loyalty, love and your life) to the benefits of the state. As the lore has it the fictional Weyland-Yutani corporation is supposedly a British-Japanese conjunction, but it turns out failing nations aren’t limited to nationality alone (as if to say some of us are ever immune to the stupid death!) – it is a mortal disease (creeping, crawling, deadly mass) and for these depraving living pathogens to survive they must strive to become more than human, above human, even inhuman altogether if they can’t obtain superhumanship because it turns out the scariest thing to be in every crest of the universe than being alive is being dead. How we go about then, this living, knowing we are destined to die, is exactly how it goes – how we check out after we have left our final steps and last breaths in the vacuums of space. Horror and terror, failure and death… and the search continues.
This review is brought to you by the public libraries of America, one of which made this viewing experience and others possible.
Here’s a repost of a review to one of the best Christmas films and questionnaires of faith since William Friedkin’s The Exorcist and Santa and the Ice Cream Bunny. I think it’s okay.
Read more of this (and then some) through the ALIEN MOVIE JOURNAL. Thankyee sai.
seriously though why isn't the Vorkosigan Saga more popular/well known in the sci fi canon?? it's shockingly ahead of its time, has brilliant world-building, some of the most compelling characters I've ever encountered in literature, and excellent top tier prose and plotting. it brilliantly tackles themes of gender, disability, politics, and family dynamics and has romance, action, mystery, intrigue, and did I mention incredible world-building??
it's like Game of Thrones meets Star Trek meets The Expanse meets Regency romance. it's incredible.
if you haven't heard of this AMAZING series by Lois McMaster Bujold, run don't walk and go read it immediately!!!!
also, fun fact, Lois Bujold got her start writing fanfic for Star Trek fanzines, which REALLY makes sense when you look at the content of her writing lol
the series wasn't written chronologically but it's definitely best to read it chronologically with one exception (which is to read Falling Free before Diplomatic Immunity).
here's my personal preferred reading order (with some notes):
Shards of Honor - 1986 start here! this book is about 33-year-old Cordelia, an astrocartographer from Beta Colony (Star Trek commie soyboy planet), and how she meets and falls in love with 44-year-old Aral Vorkosigan, a general from Barrayar (military aristocracy feudalism planet)
Barrayar - 1991 continues the story of Cordelia and Aral's romance, with many complications
The Warrior’s Apprentice - 1986 from this book onwards, the protagonist of the series shifts to Miles, Cordelia and Aral's disabled son. I was bracing myself for this switch because I was so attached to Cordelia, but 17-year-old Miles immediately jumps off the page here and quickly became one of my all time favorite literary characters. he's a disabled nepo baby from an extremely prejudiced and ableist society who may or may not have inspired Tyrion Lannister. he's incredible, character of all time, no notes
The Mountains of Mourning (novella) - 1989 this one is a novella that is part of The Borders of Infinity, which is a framing device for 3 novellas. the framing part of the book is set after Brothers in Arms, but I recommend reading each individual novella as it falls chronologically and then going back and reading the framing sections later
The Vor Game - 1990 Miles is 20 now
Cetaganda - 1995 a fun murder mystery starring 22-year-old Miles
Ethan of Athos - 1986 this book is somewhat of a detour because Miles isn't in it, but it heavily features a character who later becomes his girlfriend. it's set concurrently to Cetaganda
Labyrinth (novella) - 1989 another novella from Borders of Infinity which introduces Taura, a character who becomes very important to Miles
The Borders of Infinity (novella) - 1987 the final novella from the Borders of Infinity. it goes here chronologically. the framing device is technically set after Brothers in Arms, but it's fine to read here too if you want
Brothers in Arms - 1989 Miles goes to Earth in this one! kudos to Lois for pulling off one of my least favorite plot devices here (a secret clone) and making it an incredible and heart-breaking exploration of identity and character
Mirror Dance - 1994 this book is probably one of the best in the whole series. Lois was really cooking with this one! split POV between Miles and his clone brother, Mark
Memory - 1996 this book is a little quieter than the previous ones, but in a really good way
Komarr - 1998 introduces Miles primary love interest, Ekaterin, and splits POV between her and Miles. they're both 30 here
A Civil Campaign - 1999 this one is like, a classic Shakespearean comedy in terms of structure. apparently it was inspired by Regency romance. it's absolutely incredible and one of my favorites in the series
Winterfair Gifts (short story) - 2004 Miles and Ekaterin's wedding, told from the POV of one of their armsmen. sort of a Christmas special but in a good way!
Falling Free - 1988 another detour. this book is actually set 200 years before the events of the series, but it tells the origin story of the Quaddies and is relevant to Diplomatic Immunity, hence why I suggest reading it here
Diplomatic Immunity - 2002 32-year-old Miles and his wife untangle a diplomatic crisis with the Quaddies
Captain Vorpatril’s Alliance - 2012 told from the POV of Miles' cousin Ivan
The Flowers of Vashnoi (novella) - 2018 a novella about Ekaterin, Miles' wife
Cryoburn - 2010 get ready to WEEP
Gentleman Jole and the Red Queen - 2016 we're back in Cordelia's POV for this one. lots of spicy revelations about her and Aral's marriage (including a space throuple)!!!! we love to see it!!!
I read this series so insanely fast, like I was quite literally blasting through one book a day (each book is around 300 pages so it's not as crazy as it sounds), but that's honestly how good they are.
every single book has at least one moment that made me stop short and really think about my life. I would say the whole series is kind of a meditation on the concept of honor. and also gender issues and disability politics. some of the gender terminology is dated, but the sentiments are extremely forward-thinking, especially considering when these books were largely written. as I mentioned, the main character is disabled, and there are MANY queer and gender non-conforming characters throughout the series!
if you like Ursula LeGuin, you'll probably enjoy these! honestly surprised Bujold isn't as well-known/highly regarded as LeGuin, because imo they're very similar and very comparable!!!
again, run don't walk!!! these books need to be more popular so they get reprinted and I can buy a box set!!!! there should be an HBO show!!!!
WARNING: THIS POST MAY INFLICT READERS WITH AN IRREVERSIBLE DOMINO EFFECT!! Cracking open a single installment of Lois McMaster Bujold’s epic saga of intergalactic entrepreneur mercenary etiquette will lead you to pursue and perform exhaustive searches across every local library and book dwelling for more (see here and above for details). PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK!!
One half of the monstrous two-headed dragon from The Magic Sword (1962).
Who may or may not sound like a TIE fighter btw.
Have you seen the new movie? It's on library. It's literally on the library. It's on library without ads. It's literally on your local public library. You can probably ask for it on your library. Dude it's on your library. It's in the original case too. It's on library. You can watch it at the library. You can go to your local library and watch it. Register onto your local library right now. Go to your library. Dive into your library. You can watch it. It's on there. Your library has it for you. Your library has it for you.
Have you seen your post? You can see it at library. It's at library. It's on the library staff cabinet. It got printed out on paper and put up on Library.
oh my GOSH wow... I'm on Library...
Got into an argument on twitter about AI art, and got struck with a real inspirational phrase
I feel like millions need to hear this and then subsequently get a boot to the face.
OR even better - get a boot to the face that will imprint that onto their face so they can read it in the mirror, if they can read that is. Anyway Models
Takashi Yamazaki's next Godzilla movie has a title and logo: Godzilla Minus Zero.
Already liking where this is going
“Mythoscape” is a helluva word, even better when you clarify it with “monster.”
Two children ignoring the artwork at the San Francisco Museum of Art. ca. 1960s
Photographer: Herb Slodounik
They’re looking for the artist.
Flash Gordon gets grabbed by the dreaded Gocko monster of Mongo!
Fun fact: future Frankenstein monster Glenn Strange is the man inside the Gocko costume.
Gocko also has the frightful ability to turn pulp action serial heroes into little tykes.
Mark Z. Danielewski just heard Joe Hill put out a big ass novel and said “Hold my beer.” But they were all of them deceived, for another William T. Vollmann novel was written.
I wonder if “we have to torture this special character. in the lab facility. with secret science.” is an interest all 12-year-old children share or were we just the generation exposed to Maximum Ride
You’re right. How could I forget to credit anime for its role in putting the special character in the secret torture facility (for science).
Genuine question: Isn't this just Bond villainy and/or medieval torture dungeon? Or what kind of facility are we talking about?
The Facility is a critically important part here. See it’s a Science Facility. It’s run by a very shady clandestine organization, which is incredibly powerful. They’re maybe part of the government, or if not the government then something Illuminati-like.
As such The Facility is very high tech, and likely buried underground or hidden somewhere no normal person can access. The Torture being done is for Science, which the Facility is for. It’s all scientists in lab coats doing the torture. There is so much lab equipment and probably a lot of devices hooked up to the special character which will beep and go off the charts when the special character has a violent mind explosion. This part is important.
A lot of really good mentions in the notes here
Mewtwo
Secrets of Nimh
Wolverine
Akira
Elfen Lied
Shadow the Hedgehog
And a special mention to the couple of people identifying that a 12-year-old stuck in school all day is, perhaps, in a way, a special character being tortured in the science facility.
No paperbacks today, sorry, trying something new.
tasting salt on my lips and hearing poorly-rendered jazz, is that normal?
oh shit
