Friday, February 26, 2016

This is who I am, yo; this is who I be.

Return of fat mike/
coming straight from the underground/
locking and stopping/
all of this in your town/
that damned old Hebrew/
and the magic that he do!

They thought I would be quiet, but I surprised them.  One day they looked about and said, "what's that?"  I said, "that was your face.  Slap."

I will display patience, as an example to the children-patience and longsuffering; I will be stronger than you thought and I will not stop.  I will be

unexpected.

I was out and about one day and I said, "it's like they got a file of information on me, and some of the data is very wrong."

Let me correct you over time.  Confuse you, and provoke you, to an extent, but ultimately bring you to a higher understanding, Dear Blog Reader.

Wednesday, February 10, 2016

Danica: I offer you shrimp and champagne in Monaco.

You like shrimp; don't you baby?

Danica, I have some shrimp.  Good ones.  But when I say "champagne", I mean Coca-Cola, and when I say "Monaco", I mean my bedroom/office where I watch Monaco on my dish.  Hope that cleared up any misunderstandings.

Also, I too like Nature's Own.  FYI.  Maybe when you come to watch Monaco we can turn out a loaf with some cheese and meat.  I'll make you comfortable.  I'll even put a pillow under your lovely head.

What thoughts dare lurk within such a majestic vessel....

Now I know you were in a romance.  Let's henceforth refer to him as "the usurper", like a farmer plowing someone else's field.  I will refer to you as "Sugarbunches", or the defendant, which kind of makes me the plantiff, I guess.

A quick shower watches away all the unpleasantness and lovegore, renewing us, refreshing us, for the trip to Charlotte where you will get me a good ticket for the 600.  I make an assumption there, I know, but hey, when your girlfriend has more money than you, you take what you can.

The Candle That Burned Brightest: Daniel Freakin' Bryan

I guess the old adage is true, friends: the candle that burns twice as bright, burns half as long.

This applies to Daniel Bryan, officially disrespected at every turn in WWE keyfabe, but to a point, entire cards were structured around him, with sometimes multiple set-up matches on the undercard and then the obligatory main events.  He was overbooked by WWE, which thusly precipitated his subsequent injury and early retirement.

But I come here to praise Daniel Bryan, and not to bury him.

The height of besmirchment was his public treatment by the front office, and it leaves me hoping there was plenty of congratulating and handshakes and highfives given backstage.  That much at least-a little professional recognition-would sooth my fanboy nerves.

Seth Rollins was bit by the success demon on the dark side of fandom.  Hopefully he can return to further scrawl his name across the record books.

Roman Reigns and Dean Ambrose are in the catbird seat now, in danger of being bitten by the overbooking bug, as undercards lack teeth, lack draw.  But thankfully, WWE has diversified, despite relying briefly on the yawn heelstable of the League of Nations.

They have Brock and Rock to draw on from time to time, two wells that keep giving back to the WWE, while the Rock has lost no draw power, and Brock Lesnar has only increased his own personal cache, skyrocketing his own stock with stellar performances that test any opponent, bringing them to each to their limit.

And now AJ Styles is in the house, hitting the ground running at the Royal Rumble and hope rings anew throughout the WWE.  Brock is making appearances, with a match scheduled at Wrestlemania.  Ambrose and Reigns continue to impress, being two bullets for the WWE instead of just one.

But it is the up-the-ranking run of AJ Styles that is making me watch closer than ever.  This is not just a gimmick; this is a bit of Daniel Bryan caught in a jar: a talented misfit, surviving, thriving on the merits of his work instead of crowdpop from clever catch phrases.

Monday, February 8, 2016

The Little Mermaid: That WHORE!!!

(Now its time for a rebut from the unsatisfied majority.)

Ariel, the little mermaid, with seashells over her titties, dreaming of walking on dry land with her prince.  Silly little desperate piece, myopic from the fog of her own undeveloped desires, all from an unthinking place where some of my dreams have also went.

This is little princess propaganda, for little princesses that live in a dream world, or are willing to believe in another world FIREFLY where a handsome nice prince lives.

But let us retreat from Disney and enter the dismal province of the heavy moralizing of Hans Christian Andersen.  Madman, I say!  That he laughs at the girl's dreams, even as he writes them, and that it is a kind of unfulfillment and depression that decompresses her in the end, and she loses her man, and her hope to have a soul and becomes mere flotsam, looking then to the souls of strange children, that they would bring joy, which in so doing would give the disappointed mermaid a reprieve from the dismal world that spawned her disappointment.

A death fantasy?  A silly dream laid bare, like the addict destroying his world in torrents of substance and then refocusing through 12-Step on servitude to others.

The story, I will salute, but the film?  No way.  Mermaids don't even have souls.  That's where she failed.  So in effect, silly young women who lust their lives away have no souls either.  An excellent message to scare the little buggers, I think, to show how they would suffer for their want but inevitably lose, as all things in the real world are fleeting anyhow.