More Funk

This is funking my world at the moment. So put it on and find something to grind with immediately.

JB

Celebrity Lookalike of the Day:

Eminem...

Tom Hanks in "Philadelphia"...
God, I'm bored.

Funky, Funky Sh*t

If this doesn't make you want to put on your sunglasses and strut, I don't know what will.

JB

An Open Letter:

Dear Hollywood,

Please, from the very bottom of my soul, stop re-making films from my youth. You are a town literally teeming with talent from all walks of life, all of whom with original stories to tell and all of whom I would wager can write a better film than the sodding "Wicker Man". There is no need to make sub-par versions of already great films you bunch of narrow thinking muppets!

It started (for me anyway) with The Karate Kid. Now, any kid my age growing up in the 80's rightly holds the original up as the quintessential, teenage, underdog 80's film; filled to the brim with memorable characters, a great story and a plethora of outstanding cheesy lines...."mercy is for the weak", "wax on, wax off" to name but a couple. Then you go and produce this absolute pile of gash featuring Will Smith's obnoxious, charmless little son and aging legend, Jackie Chan and don't even attempt to better the original. Indeed you just take a steaming hot poo on it's very soul. For what? A minor profit? Shame on you.

You are literally taking my childhood memories and raping them to within an inch of their life. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Total Recall, Point Break and now (so I've heard) Scarface???!!! Is nothing sacred to you people? What next? The Godfather, starring the cast of American Pie? Taxi Driver, starring Ashton Kutcher? I wouldn't mind but they're all bloody GREAT films. Surely that fact alone negates the need for a re-make.

So, for the love of all things good and holy, please stop this disturbing trend with immediate effect.

Yours,

A Disgruntled Fan (with a shit-hot script)

P.S. - no more superhero films either (except Batman, obviously)

The Biggest Douche In The Universe...

I don't really know how I stumbled across this video but it made me weep with laughter. Trey Parker and Matt Stone discuss one of their episodes featuring John Edward and Rob Schneider.



Derp derp de derrrrp!

John.

Tunes, Footie and The Meaning of Life

So, it's been quite an eventful week on these here shores. We finished the first series of our comedy show, which is good but now the real work comes with the painstaking process of re-writes. Always fun though.

Had my first car crash, which was nice. Knocked the glasses clean off my face and gave a brother a bit of the old whiplash, but the old warhorse fights on. Hun shrapnel in my arse couldn't stop me, the Nazi's couldn't hold me back, a small Korean man rear-ending me (hello sailor!) won't keep this battleaxe from grinding on I tells ya!

Also, went to a couple of noteworthy concerts. The first being the rather lovely sounding Fleet Foxes.



I have to admit that under different circumstances I might not have enjoyed the show as much as I did. All of their songs somehow got slowed down to elevator music speed on stage, which took away from the whole thing a bit. However, two factors helped. One, The Greek Theater being one of the best venues I've been to - up in the hills of Griffith Park, enclosed among trees, shrouded in moonlight, it felt like we had wandered into some sort of hipster Ewok Village...which was better than it sounds. Two, the people directly in front of us were healthily puffing away on some super-strength jamaican sensimilla and, after about 30 clouds of smoke surrounded my face, I was soon high as a kite, grinning away like a prize idiot.

The second concert was the equally lovely sounding Bon Iver at The Spreckels Theatre in San Diego. Now, I've seen this band twice before and they absolutely blew my socks off. This time was a more electric sounding experience but it was no less amazing. The only (very minor) gripe I had was that Justin Vernon's lyrics are, for the most part, complete and utter nonsense. Especially the new album. In fact I defy you to make sense of one sentence on that album. It's actually pretty funny. However, that matters not when everything else sounds as luscious as it did that night. So all in all it was a cracking experience and wouldn't you know it, I found a video of the night already posted on youtube. Enjoy:

Also this week saw the start of the footie season...for Spurs at least. After getting royally spanked for our first two games, the yid army has turned it round and marches on. The only problem is that, after back to back wins, I now fully expect us to win the league, the champions league (despite not being in it) and the FA Cup with style and panache. Oh the joys of sporting delusion.

As for the meaning of life. Well, I was driving along earlier this week, in a foul mood, stuck in ungodly amounts of traffic, feeling generally pissed off about any and all. Then all of a sudden I thought of a Bill Hicks joke about Rick Astley not having a penis, and I laughed until I cried. Therein, friends, lies the meaning of life.

Peace and Love,

John.

Tunes Currently Filling My Satchel

1) Wedding Bell - Beach House

2) In My Bed - Amy Winehouse

3) The Ecstasy of Gold - Ennio Morricone

4) The Girl From Back Then - Kings of Convenience

5) Freestyle (Yo, That's That Sh*t) - Diamond D

6) Let's Get Really Honest - Just Jack

7) The Rip Tide - Beirut

8) Information Age - Wiley

9) First Watch - King Creosote

10) Sweet Virginia - The Rolling Stones

Dialogue of the Day

"I would rather have my testicles spread wafer thin and then...sort of pasted with honey and then have wasps released at my own genitals. Then I'd like the resulting stings to be covered in vinegar and worn as a swimming cap by a nazi"

Outtake from Forgetting Sarah Marshall (2008)

Reasons Life Is Worth Living (Part II)

Coffee. Louis Armstrong. A good smile. American Tabloid by James Ellroy. Bill Murray. Slow Motion. Getting it right. Getting it wrong. The Open Road. My Bed. Kelly Brook. Commando. Conspiracy Theories. Stanley Kubrick. "You Shall Not Pass". Gymnopedie #1. Acoustic Guitars. Irvine Welsh. Grand Piano. Catcher In The Rye. Words. Marion Cotillard's Oscar Speech. Total Silence. "Asspen". San Francisco at 7am. Home made Tacos. Toad In The Hole. Girls in Yoga Gear. Paul Thomas Anderson. The Truth. A well fitting T-Shirt. A Warm Ocean. A Good Haircut. Toffee Ice Cream. Darren Lamb. Mexico. A Good Set of Speakers. Air New Zealand. Leslie Nielsen. Inner Calm. El Mariachi. Chomsky. Language. Bread and Butter. South Park. On The Road by Jack Kerouac. David Brent. The Cuban Revolution. Pacino. A Well-Oiled Machine. A Good Photograph. The Voice of Reason. Scorcese. Rupert Pupkin. Hot Showers. Pitch Blackness. Space. Jim Morrison. Scent Memories. Ice Cold Stella. Lee Mack. The Sound of a Swish. Jack Lemmon. Florence. Latin Women. "Romulus" by Sufjan Stevens. An Airplane Landing. The first 25 minutes of 2001: A Space Odyssey. Joe Pesci. Maradona. Messi. Mabbutt. 1920's Paris. Pub Lunch. Dogs. Fresh Fruit. Heavy, Heavy Rain.

The Transfiguration:

So, this is probably the funniest video I've seen in a while. It's also an important lesson for anyone pursuing a career in the arts, so to speak. If this bloke can successfully come back from the absolute monstrosity he was in his younger days, then surely anything is possible.



I'm off to mack in the Jacuzzi with six fly hunnies. POW!

JB

Words From The Master...

"Ever since I was a child I have had this instinctive urge for expansion and growth. To me, the function and duty of a quality human being is the sincere and honest development of one's potential. If you always put a limit on everything you do, physical or anything else, it will spread into your work and into your life. There are no limits. There are only plateaus, and you must not stay there, you must go beyond them.

Now, I will kick your arse."

-- Bruce Lee

PS - He might not have said the last part.

Things I Love: Taxi Driver

Now, it is already a wee bit paradoxical to declare a love for a film about man essentially losing his mind and going on a bloody rampage. However, love it I do...and for so many reasons.

Firstly, it stars the genius that is Robert DeNiro giving the sort of performance that most people only ever dream of. After reading Paul Schrader's script, which is vastly different from the film I might add, DeNiro literally is Travis Bickle. Exactly as he was there on the page. Quite an amazing feat to behold.

Secondly, Martin Scorcese. The greatest director of all time, in my humble opinion. Again, after reading the script and seeing what he did with it, how he didn't win every award under the sun for directing for this masterpiece I will never know. There are too many memorable shots to mention but the final overhead of a quite epic crime scene is one of the greatest you'll ever see.

What I love most about this film is that it is probably the only first-person narrative that is completely unrelenting in it's portrayal of the main character. It's almost like a novel. You actually see the world through the eyes of one man and one man only. There is only one scene in the entire film which is not seen through his eyes. Travis' world is a desperate one, one which sees no hope in humanity, filled only with loneliness, isolation and despair. It is literally hell on earth. You want it to lighten up, you want to look away, get invloved in some of the other characters, but Scorcese does not flinch. Not once. For example, in the scene where Travis is at a coffee shop with his cabbie "friends". The way it's shot, acted, directed etc. shows a man who is there physically but he's obviously not really there at all. Indeed, there is a moment where the others share stories and Travis pops an alka seltzer into his water. Rather than join in the hilarity, we suddenly begin to disappear into that glass, with him. The fizzing sound takes over all conversations. It doesn't matter what they're saying, he can't hear it so nor do we. Brilliant.

Of course you can't mention this film without mentioning the score. Tense, schizophrenic, moody, scary. One minute it is smooth jazz saxophones, the next, the noise swells to uncomfortable levels of rage. Again, the perfect accompaniment to this story. Big up Bernard Hermann.

The only question that has remained about this film over the years is the ending. Is it a dream? Did Travis survive? Did he merely not get caught and is now, yet again, a ticking time-bomb? Who knows? I for one don't really care. Leaving things ambiguous makes it all the more interesting I think.

Yes, it's extremely violent. Yes, it is extremely nihilistic. Yes, it's unpleasant. And no, there is no real moral lesson. However, as a piece of cinematic history, and a commentary about society's underbelly, this film is utterly essential. They just don't make them like this any more. Michael Bay hang your head in shame.

"The clock spring cannot be wound continually tighter. As the earth moves towards the sun, Travis Bickle moves toward violence"

(from page 1 of the screenplay)

Peace,

John.