08 February 2008

Things with More Appeal.17

So, I've been neglecting you, reader. However, this is only because there really hasn't been anything worth talking about for a couple of weeks, other than politics. I have enough sense to know that the only way to make this blog any worse would be to expound on my political allegiances, and I'd only reveal my ignorance further. As tempting as it is to have my very own nothing-but-spin-zone feature on here (perhaps I could title a weekly series The LTNA Variable!), I decided to revisit my erstwhile-turned-sporadic "weekly" series. Indeed, here's something that I like, which I now bequeath to you, my cuddlecub: Metalocalypse.

This show, unlike some of its suckfest brethren of the ADD-stoner eleven minute cartoons of [adult swim] (Squidbillies, 12 oz. Mouse, Robot Chicken), helps keep the average quality level of the [adult swim] lineup above board, along with other jewels like The Boondocks, for which I have already expressed my profound love in
previous entries.

It's about a death metal band called Dethklok, and I'm not going to tell you much else about it. All you need to know is that the humor of the show has little or nothing to do with death metal, so don't be reluctant to check the show out just because metal isn't "your thing." Besides, it's by Brendon Small, who has proven he doesn't suck plenty of times
in earlier works. So, fucking watch it.

Who needs a taste?

22 January 2008

What the Fuck?

Heath Ledger

This shit is fucked up right here.
Renfro last week, and now this? In case you somehow haven't heard, Heath Ledger was found dead in a New York apartment a few hours ago. The apartment may or may not have belonged to Mary Kate Olsen, and judging by the pills found near him, this may or may not be a suicide. Also, he may or may not have been found naked according to the New York Times blog (at least, the post that's up right now), but that really does sound like the kind of thing someone mean would throw into the flurry of reports just to make things sound even more fucked up.

If there's anything to that superstition about deaths/bad shit shit coming in threes, the third person in this sequence had better damn well be someone who sucks. Maybe French Stewart has some little known oxycontin habit or something? Let's hope so, because the non-sucky semi-attractive boys dying is killing my buzz.

18 January 2008

Virgins Computer Experts Agree with Me

Much of the geek world had multiple dorkgasms earlier this week, when Apple announced it's latest toy, the Macbook Air. I, too, was pretty impressed with the sleek new laptop. At first.

But, upon viewing their informational video, I began to notice several things that the notebook is lacking-- really basic shit, like more than one USB port and, oh I don't know, a fucking disc drive? Indeed, I suppose the lack of a disc drive is somewhat explained away by the very ethos of the Macbook Air. Still though, it would be nice to have the option. If you're bringing this thing on a plane and want to watch a DVD, you're pretty much fucked unless you bring additional equipment.

By the very end of the guided tour, I was left feeling that the product was, quite honestly, another bullshit boondoggle by Apple. Steve Jobs, the world's richest premature ejaculator, blew Apple's load too quickly on this release, yet again. They released a product that wasn't entirely thought out, in the hopes that the niche market of suckers with fuck-you-money who waited on line for days for their iPhones would fall for it again. They will.

I dared not utter this to my friends who were already placing their pre-orders for one, but I'm glad to say that the nerd authorities seem to agree with me. I've said it before and I'll say it many more times: Never by a first generation Apple anything. I happen to be in the market for a laptop, but I'd rather spend my money on Asian hookers and cocaine than this mess. Oh, who am I kidding? I was planning to do that anyway.

15 January 2008

Who's Going to Steal My Speedboat Now?

Brad Renfro

Brad had a pretty rough go of it in recent years, and
was found dead today at his home, here in L.A. The cause of death is still unknown, but who are we kidding, it'll probably be an OD on black tar H. Or, who knows, maybe he went with the classic speedball.

Poor guy. It's too bad it had to be someone with real potential, instead of Lohan or one of those other drug addict cunts. Bummer.

11 January 2008

Iowa Caucus an Easy Way to Make a Grown Man Cry

"Pundits" (I loathe this word) are still chattering about Hillary Clinton's surprise reach-around win in New Hampshire after Barack Obama proved Iowa has jungle fever.

Truthfully, I don't really have much to add to the fray, if anything. I will say that I consider myself an Obama girl, since I figure my black card trumps my chick card. I will also say that Hillary, though, was much more endeared to me when she put her proverbial dick on the table and nearly wept after losing in Iowa.

Of course, the speculation is that NH agreed, and 62% of those polled said her "less cunty" side seemed to give her the edge she needed to win there.* Evidently, all everyone has been thirsty for this entire time is to see this bitch cry. Apparently, when your husband gets a blowjob from a White House intern inciting national attention and his impeachment, that's just an "oh, brother!" moment. You're full of surprises, Hilz.

*Source: My ass.

09 January 2008

I Feel Like I'm Taking Crazy Pills

Happy new, bitches. Let's get down to binniss. It's been about thirteen seconds since my last self-righteous rant, after all.

Okay, so the writers' strike rages on. Kind of. What really seems to be happening now is the picket lines shuffle on outside the monsters' headquarters, and late night television has been the first real prostitute of the stalemate between the WGA and NAMBLA* AMPTP.

About 80% of the shows I give a shit about and watch with any regularity are considered "late night," so I took note when Carson Daly's show came back to air in December, despite the strike being fully on and poppin'. "Took note" does not mean "gave a shit," because, let's face it, no one watches/likes Carson Daly or his show. Nonetheless, I assumed it was an anomaly and actually sort of figured it was the producers' way of preventing people from getting laid off, more than anything. No big deal. Even with writers, it's not like Last Call is the cream of the crop in late night, anyway.

So, I was pretty mothersucking cockshitting surprised when Conan announced his return, sans writing staff, and was rendered speechless (almost), when my other two heroes, Stephen Colbert and Jon Stewart announced the same, shortly after. I assume that all of these betrayals were a direct result of AMPTP pressures on the talk hosts, much like a pederast pressures an 8 year old into undesirable rumpus room shenanigans with chidings about "not being a very good friend."

At the same time, my curiosity was piqued, and I was interested to see what I naively imagined would be 98% improvised versions of my favorite shows. I will announce, at this point that, that I am not addressing Leno in this tirade because, apparently, my self loathing is in fact not bottomless, as I have not subjected myself to a in medias strike episode of The Tonight Show.

Well, I've seen the so-called "unscripted" versions of Late Night with Conan O'Brien, The A Daily Show (with the definite article altered, apparently in acknowledgement of the show being not-quite-the-same without its precious and beloved writing staff), and The Colbert Report (now pronounced phonetically, apparently in acknowledgement of the show being not-quite-the-same without its precious and beloved writing staff). I hereby call bullshit.

The only show that gets a pass is Letterman's, in this late night strike-sabotaging revival. He struck a deal with the WGA to come back with his staff, a luxury afforded only to him and his other show, The Late Late Show, admittedly. This is the kind of thing, though, that I think could help the strike, by galvanizing the suits to offer a fair deal to the writers through an almost grassroots (in ideology, at least), spread of progress through smaller companies making shit happen, the way Worldwide Pants did.

However, the others, my heroes, came back 100% as scripted as Letterman and lied about it. The main difference is that they are scripted poorly. The shows are nearly identical to the product put out before the strike, aside from obligatory and sheepish references to the strike by the hosts, and a clear fall off in the quality of the jokes. Basically, the shows are back. They're just wack. Jokes fall flat. I swear to God I have not been watching Seussical.

The hosts are clearly torn between putting on a good show and remaining loyal to the strike's cause (which equals putting on a shit show that was written badly to mask that it was written at all?). My feeling is, though, once you're back on the air, your loyalty has been forfeited-- particularly if you're keeping up a farce of putting on an "unscripted" show.

Indeed, Stewart and Colbert both decidedly do not have their customary scripts with them at their desks, to scribble on and shuffle pages for comedic effect. That means fuckall, though. I can see your eyes moving over the cue cards, man. The jig is up.

Some might say that I'm being unreasonable in expecting these guys to adhere to the tenet of having an unscripted show, that of course they're expected to be prepared for their shows. They do have an audience to entertain, after all. Well, I say to you, sir, there is a big difference between preparing and rehearsing, between planning and writing. What these shows are doing is so clearly the latter, in all cases, that it is simply insulting to try to claim otherwise. Face it, the only honorable move is to refuse to come back without a fair deal for your writers. Also, I add to this argument, fuck your mother.

*I am aware that this NAMBLA joke is a rip-off/reference to one of the first jokes that Jon made during the first episode of A Daily Show. I'm trying to be poignant, douche.