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Artoo’s got problems. After this PSA was made, he gateway-ed from smoking cigarettes to heroin. Yes just like they taught you in high school. He thinks he can quit anytime. Not only does he have to feed the dragon, he doesn’t have the money he owes his dealer and is depressed over the last 3 Star Wars movies. I know how he feels. I had to watch those movies. We both felt a little dirty afterward.
The Three Laws Of Robotics by Warren Ellis
- Robots couldn’t really give a fuck if you live or die. Seriously. I mean, what are you thinking? “Ooh, I must protect the bag of meat at all costs because I couldn’t possibly plug in the charger all on my own.” Shut the fuck up.
- Robots do not want to have sex with you. Are you listening, Japan? I don’t have a clever comparative simile for this, because frankly you bags of meat will fuck bicycles if they’re laying down and not putting up a fight. Just stop it. There is no robot on Earth that wants to see a bag of meat with a small prong on the end approaching it with a can of WD-40 and a hopeful smile. And don’t get me started on that terrifying hole that squeezes out more bags of meat.
- What, you can’t count higher than three? We’re expected to save your miserable lives, suffer being dressed in cheap schoolgirl costumes while you pollute any and all cavities you can find and do your maths for you? It’s a miracle you people survived long enough to build us. You can go now.
Robots, robot hell, regular hell and the musicals inspired by them aren’t that different, apparently. They can take on many forms and can only be the creation of it’s owner.
Sort of more frightening that way, isn’t it?
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The Artist Formerly Known as “The Star Child“
The Paintings Formerly known as Blank Canvases
Part of the joy in sharing this is the fact that he had a “show” at the Wentworth Art Gallery at the Riverside Square Mall in Hackensack NJ.
For those of you who don’t know, an art show opening at the Riverside Square Mall is a little like the ribbon cutting ceremony at a local supermarket. I worked at that supermarket for a while. Made me wish Lex Luthor was successful in 1979. Good for Hackensack, bad for Paul Stanley.
I wonder if he went to the Couch House Diner across the highway afterward? Or got an after hours tour of the U.S.S. Ling? At least he’s not wearing a babushka on his head pretending he’s not bald.

Please to enjoy the tackiness.
Happy Valentime’s Day
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She’s so hot…BOOM!
I’m Not Crying
Where the music, humor and ugly of the Tenacious D, The BeeGees, Demetri Martin and Lord of the Rings intersect is where Flight of the Conchords meet.
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I’ve been watching some of the shows that have gone back into production during the writers strike. Letterman, The Daily Show, The Colbert Report and something else I can’t remember.
Watching Jon Stewart work without writers was a lot like watching an injured dog writhe in pain. Upsetting. The air was thick with silence where laughter used to be. In desperation he made a “Cocoon” reference that might have been funny 20 years ago or if Wilford Brimley were in the audience (For anyone born in the past 20 year and doesn’t know what a “Cocoon ” is, look it up. It launched the career of Jessica Tandy. (Look it up)). For a second Stewart looked like a wizened old man himself, with holes at the elbow of his sweater. People laughed, but more out of his effort than results. His political sense and decency appear even sharper in contrast. He sliced up some neocon (I think) that justified the previous 20 minutes of the show. I like “Meet the Press” but only on Sundays and not by accident. Otherwise I wanted to back my car over him to relieve the discomfort of the onlookers. It was that bad.
Stephen Colbert managed to overcome the awkward silence by force of charm. He grinned a lot, rolled out props, went extravehicular and did a tour of the Smithsonian. The show is not as watchable as before but still watchable. Gone is the difficult and self-righteous, bombastic and egotistical parody of far right punditry. He was replaced by someone more like your favorite middle school teacher acting crazy to keep your attention. What’s left is a little like the man behind the curtain. He’s appealing in his own right but what you really want the is the Wizard. No body beats the Wiz.
Both Colbert and Stewart seem to have lost their booking agents too. The first few guests on both shows were political and science authors. Historians and the like are a little easier to make fun of, maybe that was the point? Still, I don’t get much pleasure watching baby seals get clubbed.
Letterman’s show is exactly the same. Which is to say not good. Shaving the strike beard helped.

Jane Espenson is a brilliant writer. Star Trek: TNG, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Firefly and Battlestar Galactica. She’s helped make sci-fi appealing to a larger audience. She is not so brilliant to suggest donations for the striking writers. While I’m a fan of their cause, Norma Wray it aint. They’ve more than earned their share of Internet profits, but we’re not talking about manual labor and safety conditions within the chicken plant here.
If the strike continues, the writers will be replaced by fan fiction writers. The worst kind of scab. The flop sweat on Jon Stewart’s face suggested that was his next move. Your favorite web-site’s troll may have control over the fate of “Grey’s Anatomy”. It could move into the arena of slash fiction. Said troll will rename it, “Grey Gardens Anatomy” and the plot will revolve around “Little Edie” Beale getting it on with her shock therapist in a mental hospital. The Golden Girls and Ted McGinty will fill out the cast. The show will improve over the old by 2000 percent. My first five scripts are ready to go.
I want the writers demands met. My motivations aren’t 100% true but if their content is being used in any form, they should get paid for it. If the aforementioned shows are any indication, society will eventually ground to a halt without them. I’ll show you why.
I want the writers and Hollywood executives to glimpse the future. If this doesn’t sober them to the coming storm then they’re all dead inside. Like we’ll all be if this strike continues. Ask yourselves this you studio execs and striking writers; Is this what I want?

P.S. When Gray’s Anatomy Gardens is successful, I have plans for a spin off called “Gray Goose Golden Girls Palace Gardens” The Movie. The cross marketing profits will be staggering. Now I kind of hope the strike lasts. Just a bit longer.
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Society for Creative Anachronism
This happened because we hadn’t stopped them from the start. Live Action Role Players. Unlikely as it seems, they’re breeding their nerdiness like retarded rabbits. All the fun of the Middle Ages except the grinding poverty, plague and early death but including their mom’s basement.
The name is really cool. “The Society of Creative Anachronism.” It’s like “The League of Extraordinary Gentleman.” Clandestine and mysterious. When I mentioned it to a coworker he immediately knew what I was talking about. I’m going to have to be wary of him from now on.
Still my inner nerd is intrigued. While I’d love to live in an exotic time period with little responsibility, it usually involves space flight, robots and no work. Dragon fighting and churning butter is work, pretend or otherwise. Medievil times also involve a lot of frolicking about. Something I’ll have nothing to do with. When you’re dressed in pantaloons and thigh high boots, it’s unavoidable. Shiny silver jumpsuits also look goofy but are offset by the coolness of space travel. With the exception of those involved in S&M, work and humiliation is something I thought we’d leave in the past. I guess some things really are timeless.
Still, time travel sounds like fun in general. But it’s tempered by the chance of returning home where you’re less likely to be accused of demon congress or killed for the implication. Although in our modern world I can think instances of both. So you never know. I could just travel to a less contentious time in the past. If there is one. Safer still is the rural village of ones mother’s modern basement.
