Lyrics To Live By

"Over and out. This is my final message.
I cannot shout above 8 billion screaming voices.
Severe the lines. Woe be tide the one who tries to hide.
I heard the starting gun.
I lost my taste for the race before I won"

From "Ripchord" by Olly Knights (2013)

Innuendo Bingo

Well...this made me laugh more than most things I've seen of late. Enjoy...

JB.

9-1-1

So today marks the anniversary of the September 11th Terror Attacks. The day the world as I, and everyone, knew it changed for good and certainly not for the better. In my humble opinion.
Out of respect for everyone who died on the day, or in the continuing aftermath that followed, I ask you to go out there and look for the truth. It's there, somewhere.

Of course, the act of writing this post - even as small, irrelevant and nondescript as it is - instantly puts me in a category with people who believe Elvis is alive and that Bigfoot walks the earth. So I should probably just leave it there.

JB.

The Phantom Menace

I'm sorry but Harry Plinkett's reviews of the infamous Star Wars prequel series are just too good not to share. The man's dark, absurd, brilliantly accurate dissection of these films is nothing short of perfection. Not many things have made me laugh harder in the past few months. I suggest everyone watch and enjoy the madness:



Cheers,

JB.

Great Reads: 'High Fidelity' by Nick Hornby

I first read this book back in the late 90's. I'd left school and found myself an impressionable working lad with no education in my future and hours to kill sweating on trains commuting to and from my place of work - which was undoubtedly some shithole on the other side of London. I think it would not be overstating the matter to say that, at that time, this book completely changed my life. For reasons I shall explain hereto. 

Hornby's second novel, released in 1995 after the monumental success of gooner-supporting "Fever Pitch", tells the tale of one Rob Fleming; a man who enjoys music, film, and lamenting his status in the world when it comes to money, power and, most of all, women. Rob owns a fledgling record shop in North London where he and his two friends sit around and make lists of stuff that they like. In fact, such is Rob's affinity for lists that the book begins with the opening heading: "Top Five Break-Ups Of All Time", wherein he begins to tell us the reader about the pitiful state of his previous failures with members of the opposite sex. All of this serves to provide the back drop to what is currently going on in his life - another break-up with a girl he loves - and there the story begins.

“What came first – the music or the misery? Did I listen to the music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to the music? Do all those records turn you into a melancholy person?” 

What follows is an absolutely hilarious, honest, unflinching portrayal of the modern man and let me tell you friends, it is a masterful depiction. Hornby writes with a sort of light-hearted scathing cynicism which, despite sounding like a massive contradiction, sets the perfect tone for the book. I defy any man on planet earth (well, at least, a middle-class white bloke from the western world) to read this book and not find yourself going "yep, I've done that". Indeed there are few subjects in life which fascinate me more than male patheticism and this book has it in spades. 

A little exercise for you -- pick a man. Someone you deem to be the coolest man on the planet. James Dean, Paul Newman, George Clooney maybe? All of those people, every last one, will absolutely turn into an insecure, whimpering, paranoid wreck if and when placed in the hands of the right (or wrong) woman. Of course, this is just my belief but it's a belief and that's all that f*cking matters, got it? Good. 

“Over the last couple of years, the photos of me when I was a kid... well, they've started to give me a little pang or something - not unhappiness, exactly, but some kind of quiet, deep regret... I keep wanting to apologize to the little guy: "I'm sorry, I've let you down. I was the person who was supposed to look after you, but I blew it: I made wrong decisions at bad times, and I turned you into me.” 

Now, how did a book about a bunch of music geeks eeking out an existence for themselves change your life? I hear you ask. Well folks, after reading this book, for the first time in my 19 or so years of existence (I think) I had the inspiration to write. I could hear my voice on the page. It was a work of art that spoke directly to me. Me?! I had never experienced that before. The characters were interested in things I am, talked the way I talk, thought how I do about stuff (if you read this blog ever, you'll know how much I f**king love writing a list for a start). Suddenly I felt the need to put pen to paper for the first time to express how I feel. For fun. Suddenly I had a thirst for knowledge and a yearning for experience that my shite office job which took me two hours to get to every day and night could not provide me. I felt a tidal wave of culture engulf my being. I mean, it was only the third book I'd ever read up to that point but we've all got to start somewhere, eh?

The following month, I handed in my notice at work, packed up and went to university and the rest, as they say, is history. Not necessarily history in the sense that anything profound or important happened on a global, national or even local scale. But a personal history was made, right there and then and here I am today as a result...writing, for nothing more than the interest of personal expression. Something that just wasn't an option until my eyes crossed this little gem. 

If you ever want to know anything about me, or indeed men in general, read this book. At once. That is all. 

“It seems to me if you have music (and books, probably, and films, and plays, and anything that makes you feel) at the center of your being, then you can't afford to sort out your love life, start to think of it as the finished product. You've got to pick at it, keep it alive and in turmoil, you've got to pick at it and unravel it until it all comes apart and you're compelled to start all over again. Maybe we live life at too high a pitch, those of us who absorb emotional things all day, and as a consequence we can never feel merely content: we have to be unhappy, or ecstatically, head-over-heels happy, and those states are difficult to achieve within a stable, solid relationship.” 

Nick Hornby -- High Fidelity (1995)

Cheers, 

JB.

Tunes Currently Licking My Lollipop

1) No Money - Kings of Leon
2) No Other Plans - Sunny Levine
3) Strange Fruit - Billie Holiday
4) M.a.a.d City - Kendrick Lamar
5) I'll Slip Away - Rodriguez
6) Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys
7) Castles In The Air - Don McLean
8) Lovin' I Lost - Common
9) Everything Means Nothing To Me - Elliott Smith
10) (You) Got What I Need - Freddie Scott

JB

Billy No Mates

"Oh, you've got a TV show? That's great"

So friends, here we are again. Stuck in the endless merry-go-round that is the entertainment industry complex. This is now my third time at the rodeo, as they say, and it gets no easier. In fact quite the opposite.

Last year, when doing the film festival circuit with my short film "Love Is...", I found myself at one of those panel Q&A sessions. The people on stage consisted of various actors, filmmakers and - most pertinently to this post - agents. Of course, a variety of shameless hacks in the crowd bombarded the agents with all manner of questions in the vein of "will you please watch my film?" or "will you please sign me?" or "will you please be godfather to my only child?" etc. So embarrassing was this relentless medieval-style baying that one agent eventually intervened and said "Listen, let me just say this. All of the time and energy and effort you guys are seemingly putting into getting an agent, instead put it into creating good shit. If you make something good, trust me we will find you"

Those words hit me like a pick-axe to the testes. At a time when I was feeling completely bewildered by the whole film festival thing, this saint came along and told me exactly what I always hoped in my heart would be true. You don't have to be a marketing genius, or indeed a silver-tongued door to door salesman, to succeed in this industry. It is, after all, about the art. I mean just look at all my heroes, they didn't sell their souls to the devil and they turned out just fine. In the everlasting words of "Field of Dreams" -- if you build it, they will come. Right?

Someone order a group of bell-ends?

Turns out that was a load of bollocks, and here's why...(Note: there's no way of writing the following without sounding bitter so please just rest assured that I'm not). The reviews thus far for "Starving In Hollywood" have been nothing short of spectacular. Literally everyone who has seen it has nothing but glowing things to say. From friends and family to industry veterans, the response has been the same - "I can't wait to see this on TV". However, the journey one must take from obscurity to...um...scurity(?) is a strange and twisted one, my friends. If I were a musician, it seems relatively simple. I write good songs. I play those good songs to people. I will be actively sought out by record companies who rely on new talent to keep the cash cow churning. I will be advanced money to record an album. I will tour extensively. I will thus have a career. Or at least the beginning of one. Do Film & TV reps have a similar philosophy as to unearthing new talent? Apparently not.

Instead, there seems to be an ever-growing wall of Mordor-type thing happening. By which I mean that if you are a nobody - which, at last count, I definitely am - then no-one gives a shit about you or anything you've done. We've tried calling producers, agents, tv networks and it's always the same: "(Fill in blank) does not accept unsolicited material. Now fuck off and have a nice life". Because the problem is, when swimming in the murky waters of the unsolicited, by default you are instantly lumped in with everything else floating around with you. I'm not putting our stuff on top of anybody else's, my point is merely that for anyone coming out of the pool, it's already a 'no' by virtue of where your material came from. However, if I'm soandsowhatshisname and I present my latest 'sidesplitting' venture, merely because of who I am, I am indeed now 'solicited'. This only confirms what I had previously written about here and here. If you get an in, you're laughing. Your stock instantly goes up about twelve-fold and whatever your peddling (in our case, abortion jokes and paper mache shark heads) is instantly met with not disdain and trepidation but with glee and giddy-eyed anticipation. The question, the dilemma me and my partners are currently facing, is...how do we go from no-one to someone?

Climb me...I dare you

Especially when all avenues seem to be a figure-eight scalectrix track of rejection. TV networks don't accept material unless it comes from an agent. Agents don't accept materials unless coming from a production company. Production companies don't accept material unless from an agent and, oh wait, I'm back where I started again. It is a very weird, surreal position to be in, and one which I am finding it most difficult to negotiate. I feel like a sperm frantically head butting away at the egg, watching all the millions of other sperms doing exactly the same thing and hoping to christ that I can burrow inside first.

However, this is the point. In every artist's, or creative-type's, career there comes a time when you have to strap on a pair and do the dirty work. It would be so easy for me to move on to the next creative endeavor. It'll be fun, keep me busy, and be another beautiful adventure to embark on. The problem with that philosophy is, however, that when done with that project, you're back to exactly the point you were before. You're still in the unsolicited pile and now a couple of years older and greyer. All you've succeeded in doing is turning a potential career into an actual hobby. Therefore, now is as good a time as any to get out there and do the awkward, uncomfortable, downright rubbish, part of trying to coerce people into parting with their hard-earned cash to take a chance on you and your project. No easy task but an abundantly necessary one.

Onwards and...onwards, my good people.

JB.

Dialogue Of The Day

Dan: "Everyone wants to be happy"
Larry: "Depressives don't. They want to be unhappy to confirm they're depressed. If they were happy they couldn't be depressed anymore. They'd have to go out in the world and live...which can be depressing"

From "Closer" - (Mike Nichols, 2004)

Only God Forgives

Well well well, so it transpires that I have just watched what may be the most bonkers film I've laid eyes on in my life. Nicolas Windig Refn's follow-up to 2011's ultra cool, ultra violent, Ryan Gosling starring "Drive" is an even cooler, even more violent Gosling re-teaming and the results are quite astonishing.

Dialogue? No thanks.

Now, call me crazy but I am bored to tears with the same old tentpole, superhero, generic bollocks that studios are churning out these days (Avengers, I'm looking at you). It seems more than ever that the divide between box-office success and good films is becoming inescapably large. Edgy, innovative, original content is being pushed further under the rug and loud noisy fanfare VFX shite is all over the place. I mean honestly, 'White House Down'? Do me a f*cking favour.

Thus it is my eternal pleasure to report on a film that made a point of grabbing hold of me by the proverbials, dragging me through the sand and refusing to let go. It made me squeam, made me squirm, made me laugh (unintentionally), made me cower, made me gasp and ultimately left me completely drained by the end. No real action to speak of, no noise, no special effects, no punchy dialogue (the entire script must've been about four pages long), the camera moves in an almost painfully slow, methodical way during each equally methodical scene, however this only goes to show that you need not the "ooo's" and "ahhs" typically associated with a movie-going experience to get something from it.

The plot is loosely based around a crime family operating out of Bangkok. Gosling, in mad silent mode, plays the youngest of three lunatic brothers who is charged with avenging one of their deaths. However, on the other side of the law is a man simply known as "The Angel of Death" who maraudes around the neon-drenched underworld handing out his own punishments to all who cross his path. The two are set on a collision course by Gosling's diabolical mother (played brilliantly by Kristen Scott Thomas) and there you have it. Pretty simple fare, right? Wrong.

Dream sequences, gruesome murders, torture, implied incest, completely random screaming and some first class battery are all shot and executed in such a way that completely blindsides you. It's like being in a terrible, terrible nightmare for 90 minutes, then being woken up by a lunatic singing karaoke. It is a completely brutal, unflinching portrayal of life in the underworld and has a claustrophobic, grim, blackness to it that I imagine people wrapped up in that side of life feel on a daily basis.

Refn is proving to be quite a master of his craft. I thought 'Drive' was basically a standard gangster plot but directed with such perfection that it elevated the film to a new level entirely. Something only a few people on earth are capable of. He does the same again here. The camera is smooth and steady. Every single frame is meticulously put together. The cinematography is absolutely outstanding -- possibly the best I've ever seen. Every shot looks like a painting. You could literally take any freeze frame from any scene and it would hang happily on your wall. The music is also great. At times very unsettling, at times pulsating, it subtly adds to the dread in the air quite beautifully.

"Wax on"....etc

When it premiered at Cannes this year, apparently half of the crowd booed and half gave it a standing ovation, and that really couldn't sum this film up more accurately. I can imagine many, many people thinking it's the worst film ever made, however, by the same token, I think if you appreciate cinema in any way, it'll be a treat that gets better with age. There are scenes which are beyond ridiculous (the dinner with mum and whore scene alone stands-out) but in the best possible way. It panders to no-one. Instead, Refn is just hanging his bollocks right there on the screen for all to see and screaming "have a load of that". Fair play, my friend. Fair play.

Much like last year's "Amour" I am completely shocked, appalled, and totally in awe of this piece of work. Also like "Amour", despite my love for it, I'm in no rush to ever see it again.

Over and out.

JB.

Absurd Rap Lyrics #558

"Stepped up to a jet-black kid, he started speaking Spanish. But he wasn't from Panama, I asked him how he get so dark? The n*gga said SUNTANAMA!!!"

From "Damage" - Ol' Dirty Bastard (1995)

Hello

Slowly the sloth emerged from it's cave; it's eyes burning from the daylight, it's hair greasy and lank, it's bones protruding from the flesh. The creature, malnourished and broken, inched forward into what appeared to be a brave new world. The blinding light of day gradually began to subside, pouring the world back into the creatures eyes. A new lease of life flowed through his tired veins and he uttered to himself "must....update....blog".

So here we are folks. A new record for me neglecting this pointless debacle has been set and here I am with a spare 20 minutes to fill all of you wonderful people (see: no-one) on what's been going on in my sorry little life.

First, I ventured across land and ocean and found myself back in London for a wee while. Now, I'm not usually one for banging on about the weather but my god it was beautiful. I haven't been back in the summer for years, let alone when every single day was a blazing haven of sunshine and laughter as it was in this case. England really is an entirely different country when the sun is out. A lovely time was had by me and all involved...I think.

Next, we had the official premiere of my sketch show "Starving In Hollywood". To give you the cliff notes, people weren't laughing as hard as I expected for the first 20 minutes. Therefore I threw what can only be described as a "tantrum" and went outside for a bit. However, after the intermission the entire crowd was absolutely rolling and I think it's safe to say that what then transpired was one of the best nights I've ever had. I could not be more proud of the finished product and the responses we've had have been nothing short of fantastic. So far so wonderful as far as that goes. Of course, since then I've been battling the inevitable despair that follows finishing a huge project, and the rigmarole of trying to monetize the bastard....but more on that later.

In other news, I'm addicted to the show "Geordie Shore" - which is literally about a bunch of complete morons from Newcastle fighting, shagging, and generally dumbing down the next generation almost single-handedly. Example quote: "Today we're ganning skydiving. The only thing better would be if I had a bird strapped to us, instead of a bloke, and she was sucking me off". I need help, I know.

Films I've seen and enjoyed include:

"Cloud Atlas" - which I thought was absolutely brilliant. I can't even begin to explain what it was about but having now seen it twice, I think it's pretty much a masterpiece. I think.

"Side Effects" - Steven Soderbergh is the nuts of a director and his cool, steady hand is all over this thriller about depression medication.

"Rosemary's Baby" - A classic from the 60's featuring a star-making performance from Mia Farrow and some truly creepy stuff happening. The 'hail satan' scenes alone make this film worth watching.

"Fruitvale Station" - Winner of Sundance, indie sensation and absolute heartbreaker. The true story of the last day of Oscar Grant III is a gut-wrenching, beautifully made film. Oscar season watch out.

"Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa" - Although nothing of cinematic note takes place and the new Alan Partridge bares little to no resemblance to the old Alan Partridge, it still made me laugh.

TV Shit beyond Geordie Shore I'm watching:

"The Wire" - I'm now up to season 2 and it's great. Hard to follow, but great nonetheless.

"Danny Dyer's Deadliest Men" - Again, much like Geordie Shore, I am acutely aware that this is absolute trash TV. However, I think Danny Dyer might be the funniest human alive, without having a clue about it. Unless he does, in which case the man is a genius.

"Breaking Bad" - The last 8 episodes have begun and tickle me sideways it's already getting completely mental. I forgot just how masterful this show is. As soon as the first episode of the last season ended, I remembered.

Other than that it's all the same old guff. I'm sure I've done more interesting things and will feel the need to write about those interesting things in vivid and unnecessary detail in the near future but for now, the kettle has boiled and I'm off to have a nice cup of tea.

Peace and Love,

JB.

Starving In Hollywood - Trailer #2

Well, folks. Guess who drank too much coffee and did a new trailer in the twilight hours of yestermorn? Me. Enjoy.



Cheers,

JB.

Love Is... (Outtakes)

So, as my current my project inches towards completion, it took me back to Vimeo where I found this. Brought back some good memories.




Cheers,

JB.

Fitch The Homeless

Well, this is about the best thing I've seen in a while. Bravo, that man.



JB.

Quote Of The Day

"The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore, all progress depends on the unreasonable man"

-- George Bernard Shaw

6 Word Film Reviews: "Flight"

Thoroughly entertaining, if slightly predictable, yarn.

JB.

A Word About Kickstarter

So...for anyone who has been living in a cave the past few years, or simply has a life which has nothing to with the industry, the emergence of a phenomenon known as "Crowd Funding" has become ever more prominent. Basically, if you're interested in raising money for a project you're working on - typically a film, TV show, or some other kind of venture in the arts, you can start a campaign. The idea being that people offer up their cash and you offer some reward, like if you donate 10 dollars you get a signed script, or for 500 you get to be in it for a day etc. A noble cause and fantastic way to raise money for your project. If you know a thousand people who can chip in a fiver, you already laughing. Sometimes, of course, you may find the occasional parasite looking for a quick grand because they feel "glum", but more on that another time.

Anyway, for us independent film-types out there, the birth of sites like IndieGoGo and KickStarter were nothing but a blessing. In theory at least. You see, for people like myself or friends in a similar situation - unknown, unfamous, unproven and no "in" with Warner Bros, or The Weinstein Company - it's a nice way to get some money off the ground and edge closer to making your dreams come true.

That was then. This is now.

Yesterday I had the misfortune of stumbling across one campaign by TV & Film star, Zach Braff. He has decided that he now wants to direct his second feature film (after the decidedly mediocre "Garden State" in 2004). However, Mr. Braff has decided that his fame, fortune, hook-ups to an untold network of producers, actors, agents, distributors, financiers, cinematographers, locations etc etc etc is not enough for his liking. He needs more creative control. So, he decided to follow in the footsteps of people like Charlie Kaufman and, more recently, the "Veronica Mars" franchise (which raised an ungodly 5 million dollars), and start his very own Kickstarter campaign...to panhandle the public with the promise that for the throwaway sum of $10,000, you can meet old Zachy boy and his wacky gang. He has asked for 2 million dollars. He has so far raised, and at this moment of writing he still has 27 days left (yes, 27), $1,967,804. Not bad going, eh?

Another award? Oh, go on then.

Now this might just be me (it often is) but does anyone else out there find it incredibly offensive that someone at his level deems it fit to essentially prey on his fans for money? "Hey guys, you love me, right? Of course you do. Anyway, the big bad studio wudio's won't let me have final cut and I can't really be arsed to go through the traditional rigamarole of finding actual investors for my newest masterpiece. Sooo, give me some money. K? Yes, I know you're all working stiffs and I'm one of the luckiest men alive whose made a career doing what I love and made a princely fortune doing it, but come on guys, look how quirky and cool me and my friends are." Nauseating.

Stop me if I'm wrong here, but I see the entire point of 'crowd-funding' as being that it exists for people who couldn't otherwise raise the funds themselves. Not mega-famous, mega-successful people to swoop in and take advantage of the good-nature of their fans. Surely that is the very antithesis of what the entire purpose of crowd-funding is all about? But, of course, where there's a good will and a dollar, it's only a matter of time before the vultures start circling. What sickens me most is that, at some point, a conversation must have occurred wherein Braff and his allies calculated that Braff has 'X' amount of fans, times 'Y' the average amount of that fans will donate, then minus 'Z' the amount we don't want to ask for so we don't look cocky, and equated exactly what they would need to do to maximize the public's goodwill. Which I personally find cynical and exploitive beyond belief.

Minion #1: "But Zach...Kaufman and Veronica Mars tripled their amounts and they're not half as popular as you" 
Braff: "I know, but we want to keep in the spirit of the thing, so let's go for two million and we'll probably get ten" 
Minion #2: "Well, what are we going to do with the extra money we raise? Offer back-end points, or other financial incentives typically involved with financing a film?"
Braff: "No, I'm buying an Island in the Maldives"
All: "Yaaaaaaaaay"

Because folks, my point is this: I have seen many, many, kickstarter campaigns come and go in the last few years and the difference between the successful ones and the non has absolutely nothing to do with the quality of the project, the professionalism of the campaign or the spirit of those involved in the making of it. No, as seems to be the way in this day and age, the key to raising finances is being popular. Or, to put it in context, having a vast network of people to finance from. It makes sense I suppose as the more people you know, the less they have to donate and the more likely they are to do so, again, regardless of the quality of the campaign. I can't tell you the amount of times I've seen friends of mine limp towards financial failure because their honest, noble, tentacles just aren't as far-reaching as they need to be. It's a lot harder to raise what you need than it sounds. Trust me, folks.

But I'm not bitter about that and it's certainly not the case that I don't support the rebellious nature of the whole endeavor, it's not even that I don't support the arts or anything like that. I absolutely do, with all my heart. It's simply that it's hard enough for us bottom-feeders to get any sort of meal in the Serengeti plains of Hollywood. Especially with the emergence of the internet as a new networking medium. The last thing we need is a bunch of already-stuffed Lions swaggering into our territory and feasting on all our scraps too. However, it's a trend that I can only see growing over the next few years.

Well, let's all paint on a smile and furrow forward at a snail's pace.

Rant over.

JB.

Tunes Currently Tempering My Psychosis

1) Breakers - Local Natives
2) Finger - TY Seagall
3) Get Lucky - Daft Punk
4) Reverse Running - Atoms For Peace
5) Glad Tidings - Van Morrison
6) The World Is A Ghetto - George Benson
7) Winter Birds - Ray Lamontagne
8) Begin The Beguine - Artie Shaw
9) Seek It - Richard Hawley
10) Daytona 500 - Ghostface Killah

Michael Shannon - Legend

So this week I went to a screening of Michael Shannon's new film "The Iceman", a biopic of mob-hitman and all around lunatic Richard Kuklinski. I already knew a bit about the man so I went in with high hopes. However, I'm sorry to say the film was a massive disappointment, the only highlight being seeing David Schwimmer playing a mafia villain, which was fecking hilarious.

However, after the screening they had a Q&A with Shannon himself, an actor who I personally think is one of the best working at the moment (for further proof, check out "Take Shelter" or "Boardwalk Empire"). I couldn't help but be engulfed by the man himself, who - despite his often borderline insane on-screen persona - just oozes charisma and, most importantly, class. I can't tell you how refreshing it is to see a successful actor who has the right attitude about it all. Just a very down to earth human being, to the point where - after fielding moronic question and moronic question from the audience (free screenings attract LA's finest mentalists, including a pony-tailed man who I caught drinking out of the bathroom sink) - the orator wanted to call a halt to proceedings, only for old Mikey to offer to stay and answer more inane questions from the geek squad before him. That alone, friends, is worthy of my applause.

Anyway, this dealing with a man who's career is about to skyrocket, came at the perfect time for me personally as lord knows I am getting severely jaded with the bottom-feeder crowd here in Hollywood. It reminded me once again that you don't have to be a twat to succeed in life and if there is any further doubt as to Shannon's legend status, just watch this video - which is him reading a REAL letter from a Sorority girl to her chapter. Brilliant:

Cheers,

JB.

Proper Ganda

So, away I have been once again from this here blog space. Largely because I'm getting a little sick of all the "anonymous" comments from Nigerians offering me free money and/or a penis enlargement. I'll tell you what I told them...it's fine the way it is, thanks. My money situation, I mean.

Anyway, so in my time away I managed to finally sit down and watch Kathryn Bigelow's "Zero Dark Thirty". Now, since it's release I have purposely avoided this film like the plague. This would be because, as anyone who cares to know me knows, I am staunchly against the politics involved in the whole sordid affair (if you care to know more, drop me an anonymous line offering penis goodies). 

So, against my better instincts and partially out of pure boredom, I decided to sit down and give it a whirl. For anyone who doesn't know, the plot is based entirely on the hunt and, ultimately, destruction of one Osama Bin Laden: bad guy numero uno of the last 10 years. 

For the entire first ten minutes I sat with my finger hovering over the stop button as some absolute moron mercilessly tortured a man for information while spouting absurdities like "everyone breaks, bro". I was appalled and so far, the film was exactly what I had first feared - nothing more than a piece of self-gratifying propaganda for the United States and their foreign policies. "Rah, rah, rah, aren't we all a jolly bunch of trained killers"-type stuff. 

Once the first ten minutes subsided, I found myself unwittingly swept along in the frankly quite pulsating storyline, told with absolutely expert direction by Bigelow (who, let's face it, knows how to make a film). By the end I was positively gnawing at my fingernails, such was the amount of tension that had built up in that time, this despite me knowing the end. Obviously. 

The performances were first class, the score brilliant and the cinematography pretty flawless, particularly in the final "storm the compound" sequence. As the credits rolled, I found myself taking it all back and declaring it one of the better films I'd seen in recent memory. Forget all the politics, murky moral waters and potential debate involved, that was just a bloody good yarn. It was sensitive to the material involved and overall a very well made film which wasn't exploitative at all. And, with that, off I went to live my vacant little life once again. 

However...when the clock struck late and I rested my head on the pillow a thought suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks and that thought went something like "OF COURSE IT IS!!!" 

You see, when engaging in any form of propaganda the key ingredient is for it not to look like you're engaging in propaganda. That's the whole point. In this day and age, and wise as people here in the US are, of course they're not going to back some ridiculous Bin Laden-baying gorefest directed by Paul Verhoven. No, that would be far too obvious. Of course, as Goebbels did in fascist Germany, you hire the best filmmakers to make the best film possible to further the agenda of those who want it furthered. Now, I'm not for a second comparing the US Government to Nazi Germany, I'm just saying, what better way than to document the murder of the boogeyman than to hire an Oscar-nominated director to adapt a best-selling novel into something that will most likely serve as 99.9% of people's account of what really happened the night OBL got smoked. 

Daniel Day Lewis said of his role in "Lincoln" that it gave him sleepless nights because he knew that for an entire generation of people, his portrayal of honest Abe would be the only one that people would ever know. It's true. When you ask people how Bin Laden went down, you'll think of a bunch of muscular, cool, wise-cracking Americans wiping him out with ease and panache. What you will not remember, nor ever care to actually find out is the truth. And why would you? You know what happened, you now know a spectacularly slick version of how A got to B, so why would anyone ever need to know, or care to know, anything more? Job done, and in a manner that George Orwell would be mighty proud of. 

As a method of propaganda, the film could not be more effective. It gleefully ignores the fact that women and other people (who are unknown) get casually shot in the face on the way to the end of the film. It joyously glides over the fact that some numpty gets choked, drowned and put in a small box, because they got what they needed. Delightedly it dances by the sheer facts of how many innocent, repeat innocent, women, children - and men for that matter - died in the search for this twat. Instead we find ourselves going..."Oooo, I hope Jessica Chastain doesn't get humiliated in her next meeting. She needs results, and quick". The absolute perfect distraction. Fuck, even I didn't care about the innocent souls lost in this fight by the end of the film...and I care...a lot! A masterful job by all involved.

Yes, the film was sensitive to the potential molotov cocktail of emotions that could be stirred by it. No, it wasn't half as "Rah, Rah" as it could have been but I think the makers (and backers) of this film were smart enough to know that it doesn't need to be any of those things. We already got him, we already celebrated. Let's just show everyone how we think they should think we did it. It's very existence is enough to permeate the minds of the masses in this country and will absolutely leave everyone who's seen it with at least a subliminal feeling of "America...fuck yeah". 

Maybe I'm a lefty, commie, nut. Maybe I'm the only sane man in the room. I don't know. The one thing I do know is that Baked Potatoes are delicious and mine just finished cooking. So we'll leave it there.

Cheers,

JB.

Soapbox Moment

A terrifying fact.

JB.

Bad Motherf*cker

This is, without question, the best short film I've seen in years. Absolutely mindblowingly good...especially seeing as I have completely no clue how on earth they did it. Bravo, sirs. Bravo.



JB.

Talking Comedy

This is amazing. Ricky Gervais, Jerry Seinfeld, Chris Rock and Louis CK sitting around talking about comedy and taking the piss out of each other. What more could you ask for?



JB.

Quote of the Day

"I probably got into music through our kid (Noel). I never used to like music, I used to f*cking hate it....anyone who listened to records and that I thought was a f*cking weirdo. I was into football....football and running around people's back gardens and being a little c*nt"

-- Liam Gallagher

Revenge Of The Sith

Now, the experience of watching this film, at a midnight screening the night it came out I might add, is one that will haunt me forever. The most angry I think I have ever been at a film in all of my 32 years. In fact, so angry have I been at this film that I haven't watched it again since. Indeed, so furious was I that I literally couldn't put it into any sort of articulate form beyond aggressive swearing. It was the final straw after staunchly defending the other two Star Wars prequels. "It'll come good in the end" I thought, "Lucas must, repeat must, have an Ace up his sleeve for the last installment, otherwise how could he possibly justify the first two being so unbearably bad?"

Turns out his ace up the sleeve was Darth Vader screaming "Noooooo" at the top of his lungs. Not the saviour I was looking for.

So, you can imagine my delight when stumbling across this review online. With just a few logical questions, this bloke completely tears apart George Lucas' 'masterpiece'. I highly suggest, if you've got a spare half hour, you watch this. Genius.


JB.

Quote of the Day

"A child is a curly, dimpled lunatic" 

-- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Heroes to Humanity: #821 - Richard Harris

Born in Limerick in 1930, old Dicky boy was one of the few at the time born into a relatively privileged background (Ireland was pretty feckin' poor in those days). However, as a youth he decided to escape the trappings of his life on the Emerald Isle to head to the badlands of London, where he wished to pursue a career in acting.

"I would consider myself an excessive compulsive. Everything I do has to be excessive. Like for instance if I fall in love, it has to be excessive. I overpower the woman with devotion and love and sex, to such an extent I exhaust them"

After arriving in the big city, Harris tried to find himself a place to stay. In doing so, he stumbled across an ad for a bedsit which read "Black or Irish need not apply". In response, he smashed his fist through the window and stole the sign - which he kept for the rest of his life as motivation. From there he went and applied at the London Academy of Music & Dramatic Art (LAMDA), finding the headteacher and proclaiming "I've done my fuckin' research on you lot, and you haven't had one star graduate from here. I will be your first star". As a result, they let him audition and he got in. Later on, Harris saw the same headteacher who told him that his was the single worst audition he'd ever seen, but "anyone who had the balls to perform that badly in front of a room full of people had to have something"...and a legend was born.

Upon graduating from LAMDA, Harris quickly made good on his promise, landing several leading man performances and becoming a full-blown Hollywood star with the release of "This Sporting Life" wherein he put in a great performance as a disgruntled coal miner who becomes a rugby star. From there, Harris really started to move through the gears.

"The difference between me and someone like Tom Cruise is that if you see pictures of me going to one of my premieres, you'll see a bottle of Vodka in my hand. If you see Cruise, he's holding a bottle of Evian water. That's the difference - a bottle of Evian water" 

Now, while still in his teenage years, Ricky suffered a terrible bout of Tuberculosis, almost killing him. It was after surviving this experience that he decided to live life to it's maximum capacity, and if there's an industry in which life is fully allowed to be lived at this capacity, it is the good old entertainment industry. The perfect storm was created and one of the most notorious Hollywood Hell-Raisers flourished. He would turn up to set drunk, disappear for days on end (only to re-surface with bevvy of beautfiul birds on his arm), piss off untold movie stars, go to premieres drunk, fight any and all and generally behave like an absolute lunatic on every level. However, as is the way in this town, the studios allowed all of this behaviour because he was a proven money-maker and an actor of the finest pedigree.

Indeed so legendary was his debauchery that, after flying 12 hours across the world for a shag - getting royally battered the whole way - he ended up at the doctors, who informed him that his blood-sugar was dangerously high and he was to give up drinking at once. So what did he do? In his words..."So, I went out and did Coke, Heroin, LSD, Speed, anything I could get my hands on". Brilliant.

"I was a sinner. I slugged some people. I hurt many people. And it's true, I never looked back to see the casualties.... I hate movies. They're a waste of time. I could be in a pub having more fun talking to idiots rather than sitting down and watching idiots perform."

It wasn't all fun and games however. One night, our Richard did so much coke that he collapsed and overdosed. Again, almost dying. This time though, he decided enough was enough and became teetotal for 15 years, in which time he enjoyed a renaissance in his acting career, starring in films such as "Unforgiven", "Gladiator" and "Harry Potter". However, his role as professor Dumbledore was to be his last, as his health devolved rapidly - concluding in a collapse at London's Ritz Hotel. However, even when being stretchered out of the building, Harris managed one last joke - yelling to mortified guests of the Hotel Restaurant "It was the food!". What a fucking legend.

Anyway, I could write for weeks about this man and still not remotely do him justice. An actor whose career is littered with magnificent performances, a womanizer of the highest order, and possibly the greatest storyteller of all time. What a refreshing thing it is to see a man who had it all, did it all with charm, style and class, and found himself completely unaffected by being a "performer" or an "artist" or however else you with to aggrandise the whole thing. And surrounded as I am by the boring, synthetic,  wet mops that we are treated to today, I think it is a damn shame that more like Richard Harris don't come along - just normal blokes who like a bit of a drink, a bit of a shag and don't get caught up in all the self-involvement of it all. Yes, he may have been a lunatic, but the best kind of lunatic, wherein he leaves a trail of incredible stories and smiles across the faces of all who knew him.



I shall drink a pint of Guiness in your honour, sir. You should too my friends.

Cheers,

JB.

Dialogue Of The Day

Tony: "My son comes to me the other day, says he doesn't understand what life's all about. Says he's got no purpose"
Doctor: "What did you tell him?"
Tony: "I told him that so far it's cost about a hundred and fifty grand to raise him, so if he's got no purpose, I want a fuckin' refund!"

From "The Sopranos" (Season 2)

Tunes Currently Waxing My Surfboard

1) Life In A Glass House - Radiohead
2) I Ain't The Same - Alabama Shakes
3) "P" Is Still Free - KRS One
4) Jesus Children Of America - Stevie Wonder
5) Trouble Town - Jake Bugg
6) For Heaven's Sake - Wu-Tang Clan
7) Love Me Two Times - The Doors
8) Second, Minute or Hour- Jack Penate
9) Yellow Ledbetter - Pearl Jam
10) It Was A Very Good Year - Frank Sinatra


JB.

Top 10 Films of 2012

Well folks, it's that time of year again. All in all I found it a difficult year for film in general. I can't tell you how many times I went in thoroughly excited and came out thoroughly disappointed (see: "Django Unchained", "Silver Linings Playbook", "Seven Psychopaths" and mostly "The Dark Knight Rises" - which I found offensively bad). However it wasn't all disappointment. Here's my list of 2012. Thoughts and comments are welcome.

10) The Hunger Games - Yes, you read that right. I had absolutely no desire to see this film upon it's release, largely because the trailer made it look like Twilight shite. However, when I finally happened upon this film over xmas, I found it a thoroughly satisfying experience, and a pretty dark one at that. Which is more than I can say for several big movies that came out last year. Also, Jennifer Lawrence would get it. Large.





9) Beasts Of The Southern Wild - This film was made on a shoestring budget and features a fairytale-like story about a bunch of people living beyond the bounds of normal society in deepest post-Katrina Louisiana. Apparently the two leads (a man and his daughter) aren't even actors, which makes their performances all the more remarkable. A truly original film.

8) Beats, Rhymes & Life - An absolutely fascinating documentary about A Tribe Called Quest - pioneering hip-hop act from the 80s/90s and one of my favorite bands of all time. Beautifully illustrates just how difficult it is to maintain boyhood friendship when money and fame get involved. Also features the best soundtrack of the year. Obviously.

7) The Hobbit - Now, as mentioned prior on this here blog, it's hard for me to be unbiased about anything remotely involved with Lord of the Rings. However, after watching this film twice (both in HFR 3D and Regular plain ol' 2D, I can safely say that I think this film is great and another massive achievement for Mr. Peter Jackson. I wasn't bored once. Why it's gotten so much bad press mystifies me, but hey, what do I know. I also thought Martin Freeman did a fine job as Bilbo.

6) The Sessions - A lovely little film based on the true story of Mark O'Brien, a man largely immobilised by polio and spending most of his waking hours in an iron lung. However, at aged 38, Mark decides that he'd like to lose his virginity before he passes to the afterlife. So he hires a sex-surrogate and there begins one of the better stories I've seen all year. John Hawkes gives the performance of his life, as does Helen Hunt. It made me laugh, made me cry, made me want to do better work...all good things, people. All good things.

5) Life Of Pi - This is one of the rare occasions, in the age of information in which we live, where I managed to completely avoid anything to do with this film before I went in. As a result I was completely blown away. A great story, yes, but the visuals were by far the best thing I have seen on a big screen up to this point. Absolutely jaw-dropping. The reason this isn't further up the list is purely for the fact that I'm not sure how good it would be without the spectacular use of 3-D. TBC.

4) Argo - Ben Affleck's third film as a director is a belter. There's a good 45 minute stretch where my arsehole was well and truly puckered. I also thought Affleck did a pretty masterful job directing. The story is one-part CIA thriller, one-part kooky comedy and could have gone so horribly, horribly wrong. However the subject matter is balanced just right and fully deserves all the accolades it is getting.

3) End Of Watch - Another f**king film about the ins and outs of the LAPD? Please God, no! Or at least that's what I initially thought. However, this film was amazing. Shot as a sort of fly-on-the wall mockumentary type affair, we follow Michael Pená and Jake Gyllenhaal around LA's mean streets and, more interestingly, the inner workings of their personal lives. Both of their performances were utterly brilliant, as was the directing - again, handling the old "Reality Style" very well indeed. It irritates me greatly that this film gets no respect for Awards season, as it is vastly better than most everything nominated. Bravo to everyone involved. Bravo.

2) Amour - Now, this was a tough one. This film deals with a little French octogenarian couple in the twilight years of their life. The wife becomes ill and the story goes from there. It was one of the more harrowing experiences I've ever had watching a film (and I paid 15 quid to watch "Batman & Robin"). It is largely bleak, mostly heartbreaking and completely unflinching in it's portrayal of her decay and his suffering as a result. However, what makes this film a work of genius is simply it's title - "Love". What it means to really love someone. What lengths you'd go to for that love. Basically a look at the ugly side of the notion. A place few dare to tread. Genius.

1) The Master - I will admit, I have seen this film 4 times. However, if ever there was a film that merited re-watching, it is Paul Thomas Anderson's sixth effort. Largely because I was completely baffled by it the first time around. The story is of Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix), a rather troubled young man coming home from WWII. After getting into various scrapes and with his life seemingly destined for disaster he happens upon a quasi-religious  group called The Cause, led by one Lancaster Dodd, played brilliantly by Philip Seymour Hoffman. From there, one of the most twisted and bizarre relationship stories begins. There are plenty of technical things to enjoy - the performances which are unanimously magnificent, the cinematography - shot on glorious technicolour 65mm film, and the soundtrack - another deeply unsettling effort from Jonny Greenwood. However what I love most about this film is the simple fact that the story isn't spoonfed to you. This film requires you to think, begs for debate afterwards, leaves everything open for interpretation and bows to no-one. In this day and age, where everything has to be wrapped up in a bow and delivered on a silver platter in order to sell some tickets, this film stands absolutely head and shoulders above the rest. Proving, once again, that no Hollywood director is even close to the work that Paul Thomas Anderson is doing. No-one.

Peace and Love,

JB.

Absurd Rap Lyrics: #542

"Tipped over a cow, just for a joke and laughed. Jumped up, choked a giraffe, snapped it's neck and broke it in half"

Eminem - "Get You Mad" (1999)

2 Minutes Of Goats Yelling Like Humans

Sometimes it's the simple things in life.

 

JB.

St. Valentine's Day

Darwin - big softie

Hello and a happy Valentine's Day (or, as I like to call it, listening to coldplay and wanking in your own tears day) to one and all.

These days, Valentine's Day is of course the one day of the year wherein us humans take the time to acknowledge the one we love and all they have to offer. But, I hear you hark, just who is this St. Valentine and what's he got to do with me having to sit through "Dirty Dancing" for the nineteenth time?

Well, St. Valentine was one of those ancient martyred catholic priests (although back then of course, it was harder not to get killed if one held a position in the church) who provided marriage to the masses when the Roman Empire had outlawed such things at the time. Typical bloody Romans. If you want to read more, check this page - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valentine's_Day

Anyway he got smoked and now we all have to toddle off to Hallmark to get cards and flowers to remind ourselves that a good man suffered in the face of tyranny for the sanctity of marriage - holy matrimony if you will - to remain a facet of our society. As a divorcee, I can't thank the c*nt enough. No, seriously, in these cynical modern times, it's easy to write off this day as simply another corporate snatch at your purse strings but I say nay! What's so wrong with taking a day out to appreciate the dying art of romance? Nothing. Nothing at all, my friends. So grab your loved one, swoon them, kiss them in places undiscovered and appreciate the fact that you are one of the lucky ones whom someone has decided to share their life with, even if only for a day.

Oh, and this song will definitely score you a shag.



Love to all,

JB.

P.S. - This day also marks the anniversary of that wonderful day in 1929 when Al Capone took mortal control of depression-era Chicago's mean streets by slaughtering seven members of rival Bugs Moran's Northside gang. So don't forget to raise a glass to that too.

Lyrics To Live By

"And from the shelter of my mind
Through the window of my eyes
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets
To England where my heart lies"

"Kathy's Song" - Simon & Garfunkel (1966)

JT

I like Justin Timberlake. There I said it. I used to think (obviously given his time with the world's worst boy band) that he was an absolute tool. However, I heard his solo material and was sold. I took untold amounts of abuse from all my mates for buying his first album when it came out. However, six months later and everyone was dancing like a bellend to his tunes - a few of which will be played at Essex weddings throughout the annals of time.

Now of course he is a world-beating, platinum-selling, movie-making megastar and, on some level, I like to think I'm responsible for that. I think he knows that too. Be nice if he acknowledged it occasionally but I you can't have it all, eh?

Anyway, I happened to catch this performance from last night's grammy awards and my man-crush came back in full force. The first song was marginally gash, however the second one is an absolute tune. I don't care what anyone says........

I'm not gay. Repeat, I am not gay. Honest.

JB.

New Poster

For my new sketch show. I did it on photoshop and it took me bloody ages so someone better leave me a comment stating how brilliant it is, or I might go on a rampage.

Cheers,

JB.

Atoms For Peace

Thom Yorke's side project band has an album coming out on Feb 26th. This makes me excited. Here's their new single.



That is all I have to say on the matter.

JB.

Classic Albums: Either/Or

Elliott Smith - Either/Or  (1997)

With his first two albums, Elliott Smith made a name for as a sort of lo-fi, underground god - singing mostly about doing Heroin ("Needle In The Hay"), getting hammered ("St. Ides Heaven") and generally being a bit glum ("Roman Candle"). I personally am at loathe to describe his music as folk-punk, which many journalists have done over the years, but there really is no better description for his early efforts. All the rage, emotion and intensity are there, just unplugged. Imagine if Sid Vicious was blessed with the quivering voice of an angel and voila. There you have it.

His eponymous second album was extremely well received in the indie community and soon Elliot did what all good artists do, he moved to LA for his next album, Either/Or. From the opening chimes of "Speed Trials" it's clear the Mr. Smith isn't quite finished being morose just yet, however for the first time in his floundering career, he began to expand the musical palette beyond an acoustic guitar and some light drums. "Alameda" finds him in a floaty, Beatles-like state. "Ballad of Big Nothing" is possibly the chirpiest song ever written about a vast empty universe, and then comes "Between The Bars" - a gut-wrenching little number drenched in booze and melancholy, which is a lot better than it sounds.

Now, anyone who knows the story of Elliott Smith knows that he struggled quite monumentally with his fame, resulting in a pretty severe drug habit and ultimately his suicide. Sadly, that is also what makes his music so great, for me at least. It's incredibly personal and everything he's going through is there for us all to see and hear. "Pictures Of Me" is another upbeat number about his struggles with fame, "2:45AM" deals with the consequences of him getting beaten up by another human and so on and so forth. There is no-one better at making beautiful music out of what could be considered depressing subject matter. It just pours out of him.

This album ebbs and flows quietly along, changing gears with subtle ease, exploring the depths of the human soul while still making you hum along. Not an easy feat by any stretch. However, it's not all doom and gloom, "Rose Parade" is a lovely little number regarding an annual Los Angeles ceremony and "Say Yes", the album's last track, positively brims with hope, with Elliott repeatedly crooning "I'm in love with the world, through the eyes of a girl". Thus making it all the more ominous that his tragic end was soon to come and the world was deprived of yet another brilliant, unique, ridiculously talented individual. 

If you're reading this going "who the f*ck is Elliott Smith?", sort your life out! I suggest you visit his back catalogue immediately. Starting right here.

Cheers.

JB.

2013: An Absolute Belter (So Far)...

Well shaft me sideways with a blind man's stick, what a January that was. Of course a by-product of having such a wonderful month is the absolute lack of posting on this blog. However, last I checked, this fact had absolutely no impact on the daily life of anyone...so cest la vie really.

You got that right, random plane picture off Google Images

Upon returning to Satan's Playground, after the relaxed (see: eating and drinking myself into oblivion) happiness of being back home for Xmas, life has been a blur. I went straight back to work for a few days, then shot all weekend, then went back to work for a full week, then shot all weekend again, then booked a commercial, for which I had I to fly to Seattle for 4 days, then came home and got royally shitfaced. Santori times indeed.

First off I should report that we managed to finish principal photography on "Starving In Hollywood" - my beautifully insane little sketch show. Thus concluding one of the more stressful, challenging shoots I've ever embarked on. By the end of the second week (without having a day off) I was absolutely, mercilessly knackered beyond pale. However, the experience was completely and utterly worth it as we got more funny material in the can than I know what to do with. I've never worked with more talented actors. Everyone who came in to do even the smallest part was nothing short of magnificent - making already mildly offensive material positively appalling. I'd like to think this was down to the shrewdness of my directing skills, however I'm pretty sure it wasn't.

Also included in these two weekends was the most efficient day of shooting I've ever had at the helm of a project. Nothing makes me happier than starting the day with a schedule in hand, utterly terrified at what's ahead, only to then find that everything goes smoother than you ever could've imagined, you've got all the coverage you wanted and you're wrapped precisely when you intended to be. It makes a man realise that he may not be as incompetent as once feared - a feeling that is indescribably great, my friends.

Then came the commercial and a trip to Seattle. This marked the first time I had ever shot "on location" and I must say that it is something I could get used to, and get used to quite quickly. To be paid handsomely to travel to place you've never been is literally everything I've ever wanted in life. Indeed there was a moment when filming our twelfth hour of the first day, freezing my tits off in the pissing rain when a huge grin stretched it's way across my face and I thought "blimey, I'm in f*cking SEATTLE!!!". It didn't help the scene much, but felt good nonetheless. I can't even imagine doing something like "Lord of the Rings". I'd have a permanent woody, I think.

Seattle - they love a good market

Also, I can't begin to tell you what a relief it was to just be an actor on a shoot - literally for the first time in ages. The first few hours I found myself inadvertently fretting about how everything would cut together, or whether we were on schedule, or whether the continuity was working, or whether barking dogs would ruin takes or blah blah blah. Then suddenly I realised I had nothing to do with that and should just relax and focus on being all handsome and hilarious. So I did. Sort of. Anyway, the crew I worked with up there really were some of the loveliest people I've ever come across and the whole experience was one of the better ones I've had. To top it all off, I had almost a full day to myself before I left to go and explore the city. And what a beautful city it is. I can't be arsed to go all "Lonely Planet" and extoll it's virtues here - you want that shit, go elsewhere hombre - but I will simply say, in my simplest Essex slang, it was the absolute bollocks.

All in all, as the title suggests, 2013 has been pretty excellent so far. More to come hopefully. Until then, good people of the interweb, here's a song that I have not been able to get out of my head for the past ten days. Enjoy.

Peace,

JB.

P.S - The Superbowl....pile of shite. That is all.

Dialogue of the Day

"In Italy for 30 years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, five hundred years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock"

From "The Third Man" (1949)