Tommy Wiseau. Read this name out loud. Exhale, take a deep breath, pop by the fridge for a Fresca and sit back down again. This name and the man who wears it deserves an insane amount of credit for providing a movie making lesson better than any other in history. An example of how to completely rape your eyes and ears, wasting 90 minutes of your life. "The Room" is his movie that has already earned solid cult status stateside - budgeted with 6 million dollars Wiseau set out to create his masterpiece that he now calls a black comedy despite the fact that 99% of all viewers would deem it unintentionally funny. It has reached such a status that it is now screened once a month in a theater on Sunset Blvd. in front of a brutally honest audience.
Meet Johnny.
Tommy portrays Johnny, a man loved by many, a hopeless romantic with a heart of gold and a body of titanium. His fiancee, a seductress with the sexual appetite of a death row rapist tells her mother that Tommy hit her... which is so not true. Consumed with despair Johnny heads to the roof, his favorite hangout to let off some steam and by chance meets Mark, his best friend and his girlfriends lover. Que scene!
Wiseau's portrayal of a man consumed by emotion is as realistic as the existence of Xenu. The poor guy. And like all good love stories, Shakespearian or not - The Room ends with a tragic climax. Sorry to give it away folks, but you're not going to see this movie for the riveting story elements. Johnny does what every man should when betrayed by a slutty lies-to-mommy-telling-no-good-daughter-of-a-breast-cancer-patient - he shoots himself through the head. And dies. !!! Eye wetting as this ending may be, we learn that he was indeed loved, as his sort of adopted son and everyone else in his posse mourns his passing loudly. Indeed, he died a martyr of passion.
PS. A side note on SPOONS.
There are framed pictures of spoons around Johnny's place. Such a thing ends up on the web and is a huge part of the celebration that takes place every month on Sunset. So should you ever stop by to marvel in this mutated piece of soft core brilliance, be sure to bring the proper plastic utensil. Let'em rain boys! LET'EM RAIN!
Hey handsome, ever watch Troma? No? By the powers vested in me by the state of California I now pronounce you a douche. Low budget dirty horror movies with and extreme level of gore, laughs and Razzie award worthy acting. If you need a definition of so bad it's good, Troma is where to look.
Take for instance this little number
I guess the reason why people love these films is the ability to relate to the stories. Remember that time you fell into toxic waste, got super powers that helped you get ladies and beat up bad guys?
More trailers for thine amusement! They pretty much speak for themselves! DISCLAIMER!!! Not for easily grossed out people or breast feeding children of all ages!
POULTRYGEIST!!
A NYMPHOID BARBARIAN IN DINOSAUR HELL!!
CLASS OF NUKE'EM HIGH!!
"We're the youth of today".
Wow. That was fulfilling. That's it, I'm packing my bags and moving to Tromaville AKA Bakersfield. Not convinced? Don't take my word for it - take Sling Blade's word!
HhHHT!! PRRRR!! Meow, mjau, meuxx!! That's right kitty. This one's about you!
The internet - much like the pajama wearing brunette from the ring - never sleeps. You'd be a brilliant moron to try to capture even a fragment of what goes on in the subspace of its never endingness. Being more than a decade old and probably one of mankind's proudest achievements in our time, one would think that the quality of content would rise as the years tick by, feeding the promising minds of generations to come with enlightening produce from its world wide womb. ENGH!! (You know, the end of a basket ball match noise). Having spent more than enough time in between its pages, I think I have found its real essence. The building block of which it stems is nothing less than:
This guy.
Well, maybe not only him. But the army of mouse haters from which he spawned.
In the latter years there's been an uprising of feline based sites. This movement's main target is people with boring jobs. Which is, needless to say, almost everyone. If you're not a coal miner pick-axing your way through the burrows of Alaska you're probably sitting in front of a computer some time during the workday. And because you need both a computer and an internet connection to check your email, that little urge you get to see if there's anything else going on in the world can now be satisfied by a few simple clicks, filling your screen with furry goodness.
I want to map this phenomenon in the way it has infected my working life, listing them in no purrticular order (see what I did there, purr sounds exactly like per! much like lettuce sounds like letters with a New York accent. Try it out in the restroom when no-one's around).
1. Stuff on my cat. This self-explanatory name is the root of hilarious animal cruelty that has covered many a cubicle landscape with uncontrollable chuckles. My personal fave is the introduction of flapjacks on cats. Why does it work? My theory is as follows. The cat is one of natures most graceful creatures, right? They actually spend most of their days posing. Sexy women are often compared to them. Eartha Kitt even based her whole image on it. However, if you add an element that does not belong in the elegant equation, the whole facade crumbles. You must admit it is very difficult to be cute or alluring when being humped by a creepy looking baby-old-man-thing.
2. LOLCATZ AKA I CAN HAS CHEESEBURGER? As far as esoteric geek humor sites go, this one is simply retarded gold. The invention of a feline language to go with snapshots that make the ladies go awwww spells gray Monday giggle award. 'Tis Prozac in a cat.
3. Talking cats. Furthering my well documented evidence of cats for world dominance is the abundance of videos of cats actually speaking English. Go figure.
4. The serious ones. All the pages mentioned earlier have been derived in good humor. Some people though seem to have a need to take things just a little too far. In the case of Kittywigs I have no idea what to think. I would make a comment about someone having way to much time on their hands, but that would be the biggest glass house statement of the century. Still, it is pretty remarkable that someone looked at a cat and thought "how can I add more hair?" (BTW I'm divided between to favorites: Electric Blue and Silver Fox).
Honorable mentions!
At the end of this speculative blurb I find myself to be obviously brainwashed. Why did I even write this? Am I obsessed? Let's say I did it to rid mind of useless information. Before I go I sincerely apologize to those of you who hate cats and wish them all dead and humbly recognize that the average '08 coal miner also spends a lot of his time in front of his PC, especially since Microsoft published WinCanarie XP earlier this year. (I just caught myself trying way to hard to be funny). I now throw a sayonara your way with a find that relates both to the cat family and the mental capacity of this blogs author:
For 3 years now - at least I think it is 3 years - I have more than often casually eyeballed one of my favorite "Can it be done?" or "Who's he kidding?" projects. The fella who runs the awe-inspiring site that is MENGERMANIA has long inspired me to keep at it in my never ending scheme of nothingness, by attempting to create one big mama of a fractal origami cube. In laments terms he is trying to make a really huge paper thingy that takes really long to make because of folding and putting things together and stuff.
Completed Level 3 Menger Sponge on a piece of folded tarp.
Having completed the first three levels of these menger sponges - the higher levels increasing in difficulty and folded paper bits, he daringly set forth to create Level 4 which would consist of 1,296,384 units of paper. 1,296,384 units. Folded. By hand. That's a lot of units.
Slowly but surely I saw it grow from 0,11% to 0,12%, quite enjoying the fact that this person was doing something way more tedious than I - that he would ultimately get little to no credit for. Alas, there is no Nobel prizes for origami enthusiasts.
I recently checked in to see how he was doing and I noticed to my angstful surprise that he has come to a screeching halt at 2,60%. His last update dated April 10 2008.
Has this connoisseur of papyrus given up on his quest? The worst case scenarios lined up in my head and the theories were plentiful. I list, I list in order of probability!
1. He's committed suicide.
% Who wouldn't. I mean, one man can fold only so much paper.
2. He got a girlfriend.
% With a page like his I bet the cyberbabes are all over him, hence opening his eyes to other things. Like folding and inserting fleshy stuff perhaps.
3. He got his first paper cut and realized the danger of his project.
% Just needed more than 2 theories on this list.
Anyway, here is the Level 4 Menger Sponge in all it's unfinished glory. I wish Mengerman all the best in his future endeavors and give him full credit for the 33,684 units of paper he actually folded.
Come back Paper Folding Man, I miss you. If you happen to see lifesigns please do not hesitate to notify me! OR if you feel your just crazy enough to pick up the torch - here's how!
Some random dude. Aspiring everything. Does dishes with enormous contempt. Has a real life blog at lurenwist.blogspot.com and a virtual life blog at escapissimo.blogspot.com
