Archive for the ‘Of Interest?’ Category

Of non-believers dying in the sand.

Thursday, June 11th, 2009

I like The Twitter. A lot. I enjoy the simple fact that it’s very simpleness means the uses for it are limited only by what people think to do with it.

Unfortunately, some people have thought to spam with it, and whilst the way Twitter works means that the spam is not as obvious as it is in e-mail, it’s still something I don’t want nothing anything to do with.

So, when one of the (really smart guys) I follow on Twitter mentioned that he had come up with Blocky I jumped on his site to have a look. It’s a crowd-sourcing spam black-list that, when you log into it, uses that black-list to search through your list of followers and blocks any suspected spammers for you.  Which is neat.

At the moment, the black-list is quite short, but as soon as more and more people log in and start nominating and then voting on spammers (just nominating a suspected spammer is not enough to add them to the list) the list will likely grow.

Flock of sheep out on display.

Friday, May 1st, 2009

Back in the mists of time, there was a man. A man of morals, of wit and humour. A man with a VideoEzy account and a desire to watch terrible, terrible b-movies. And this man, he had a friend.

This is their story of how they once hired Robot Jox and how it changed their lives forever. Crash and burn, everyone, crash and burn.


Right, back in the 1990s I was a bit of a film geek. People who know me now might ask “What’s changed?”. Well, a lot. For one, I hate going to the cinema these days. Really hate it. It’s not just that the small indie places closed down and the only places to see moves are multiplexes and how that means more people watching more shitty films, all there just because they have no reason to be anywhere else – it’s that I no longer enjoy the process, the ceremony of attending the movies. It used to be an event, where friends and I would plan a night out around going to the “flicks”. The thing is, I get more enjoyment at home watching a DVD on a nice big telly now than I do going to the “pictures” (although I don’t mind going to Dendy as I can have a beer or three to dull my anxiety).

Oh, and I hate ordering a small drink and being told they only have Large, Extra-large and American sizes. I might be a bit slow, but to me, if you only offer three sizes, then then one that holds the least amount of fluid is the small one. And paying $7 for badly popped corn. And the seats. And the people. And the lack of interesting films.


Ignoring the above, continuing with my story of hiring of a VHS tape and watching it at home (or, as it turned out, my friend’s home).

Back in the 1990s I was a bit of a film geek I used to hire a lot of movies and films (movies are pure entertainment, films are entertainment to be discussed afterwards over a coffee and a black cigarette). Lots. I had accounts at half a dozen video stores so that no matter where I was in my pre-car owning days I was only a short walk from a video tape repository. I used to hire classics like:

  • D.A.R.Y.L.
  • Back to the Future 1 & 2
  • Taxi Driver
  • Beverly Hills Cop
  • Escape from New York
  • The Ice Pirates
  • RoboCop
  • They Call Me Bruce?
  • Army of Darkness
  • Flight of the Navigator
  • Blade Runner
  • The Goonies
  • Star Wars/Empire Strikes Back
  • Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure
  • Brazil
  • The Stunt Man
  • The Man With Two Brains

(can you tell I was one of the popular kids at school?)

And I would also hire the films with the worst looking cases. The ones that you just knew were going to suck. Like:

  • Brain Dead/DeadAlive (actually one of the best movies I have ever seen, better than the swords & sorcery muck that Peter Jackson has made since)
  • Troll
  • Up the Creek (doesn’t suck so much as it doesn’t deliver what a horny early teen/mid teen/late teen/old man needs)
  • Cherry 2000 (looked like crap on the box, turns out to be pretty sensational)
  • Puppet Master
  • The Class of Nuke ‘Em High
  • Eliminators
  • Re-Animator

and Robot Jox.

The weird thing is, back then I wouldn’t have been able to look at that second list and tell you any of the films had anything in common – apart from the fact I had really low expectations for them. But today I can tell you that there is a link between Troll, Puppet Master, Eliminators, Re-Animator and Robot Jox.

That link? Charles Band.

You go read that Wikipedia page as it will tell you more about the man than I can/want to. And it will likely tell you with less swears and poorly thought out puns and metaphors and similes and smilies and shit I can’t think of a way to tie them all up like a Girl Guide on rope-tying day ;)

Back to the main gist of my point of my story. My friend and I hired Robot Jox. A film where war has been replaced with a spectator sport consisting of poorly developed giant robots piloted by barely protected and illiterate “jox” beating the ever living snot/shit/wind out of each other.

It was horrible.

We loved it. We laughed at it. We greeted each other with “crash and burn” (a phrase that gets overused in the film) for at least, well, a day. We even tracked down the semi-sequel Crash and Burn. We didn’t do it intentionally and until recently I didn’t know the two films were actually related. I had just assumed one ripped off the other but we saw it in the video store, thought, hmm that looks like Robot Jox and off we went. We watched maybe 15 minutes of it.

So, whilst I can’t remember anything of substance of Crash and Burn I can remember details about Robot Jox as if I only watched it again yesterday. Because I just watched it again yesterday. And you know what, it doesn’t suck as much as it did. The giant robots look silly, the stop motion is painful at times and I can’t get over the lack of thought that went into the design of the pilot’s cockpit area, but overall it was a considerably better film than I remembered it being.

That being said, I cannot recommend that anyone ever watch any of it.

Here are some highlights:

And, here is the trailer:

P.S. Doesn’t the main character just seen like Billy Bob Thornton’s younger, handsomer and more talented older brother?

Soaked in bleach.

Wednesday, April 29th, 2009

Ever wanted to pretend you are Robert De Niro but can’t stand the smell of semen on taxi seat vinyl?

Well, now you have an alternative.

Via the magic of the Internet (and a Korean translator) you can play-act as a returned Vietnam vet who aches to return to the days where the power of life (and death) was in your own hands. Of course, there is no real death, just the possible loss of your hearing.

I give (well, not give, more like show) you, Balloon Russian Roulette:

Let's go back to my room.

Apparently, there is a pin in only one of the revolting revolving chambers, so grab a friend, take a deep breath, and see which one of you is blown away.

via Geeky Gadgets.

It’s something mysterious.

Friday, April 10th, 2009

Years ago, in 2006 to be precise, I made a general statement that 1986 was the single greatest year for movies and music.

And I still believe it. So I am going to post the list that I created in ’06 to prove that ’86 was the best.

And here it is. Right here. Wait, I mean here.

Read it, argue it, experience it.

All the world’s weight is on my back and I don’t even know why.

Tuesday, March 24th, 2009

Can you keep a secret? No? Really? Oh. Okay. I won’t tell you then.

No, I won’t. I could get into trouble if I told you that instead of busying myself with busy work today I learned about a new thing. And by new thing, I mean an old thing that is new to me.

Via the brilliant mind of Andy Baio and his excellent site I was directed to Rands‘ site to learn all about the Brooklyn Bridge, where by “all about” I mean “I learned a few interesting things about it”.

One of those interesting things was the “caisson”. Which, according to my first port of call is “a retaining, watertight structure used, for example, to work on the foundations of a bridge pier, for the construction of a concrete dam, or for the repair of ships.” Go read about it. I guess that due to the less sexy nature of the article you can trust the Wikipedia will be accurate on this subject.

But because it is not sexy, doesn’t mean it is not awesome. These things can be brilliantly simple and yet could be hideously complicated and involved airlocks and air compressors and require medical staff. Yep, need to have those white coats around for dealing with caisson disease, or the bends, or decompression sickness (it is all the same thing). I never wondered if people experienced this before the advent of deep underwater diving, and now I don’t have to. All I know is that I want one, and a small lake in which to dig in. Or a big lake.

And a powerboat.

And a hat.

Like this:

Now five years later on, you’ve got the world at your feet.

Tuesday, March 24th, 2009

Among my many unwise purchases are counted such things as: a modified sports car, another modified sports car with a seized engine, multiple laptop computers, an off-brand plasma TV, and a brand-new Suzuki GS500 motorbike.

This one:

And I love it. Lots. So much.

A month or so after I got it, I was in a cocktail bar (that much is true) when I got talking to the muddler behind the bar about his plans for the weekend. He said he was going to get back on a bike for the first time in years and I mentioned I had a bike and he offered me the three rules his father had passed down to him, and that he lived by. They were:

  1. Protection: Always wear a helmet and your leathers. Always.
  2. Assumption: Assume everyone in a car is trying to kill you and wants you dead.
  3. Reaction: Never, ever act out in anger. If someone cuts you off, don’t raise the middle finger or shake your head, just wave and smile at them through your visor.

I always knew the first rule, but had I known the second two I am sure I would have been able to avoid an incident that had occurred the previous week.  See, I had been riding at the speed limit and someone behind me, in a hotted up Holden Commodore, wanted me to go faster.  He kept speeding up to within a foot/30cm or so of me and then slowing down.  Then when he had a chance to pass me, he did so with two wheels in my lane, and attempted to hit me when he swerved back into the lane in front.

So I gave him the finger.

Which meant that he jumped on the anchors and tried to slam the back of his car into the front of my bike. It didn’t happen, thank gosh, but he then continued on up the road and stopped and waited for me.  As I got closer he spun up his rear tyres, did a clumsy 180 degree spin and aimed himself at me.  I tore open the throttle on the bike and flew away, darting into the first street I recognised in hope I could pull into someone’s driveway and seek refuge.  So I did.  After five minutes of no pursuit I thought it safe to ride home, and as I double-backed I got to see  two tracks that the Holden Commodore had left all over a grassy childrens playground. At the end of the tracks was a smashed up car and a very solid tree.

I also got to see a fatherly figure trying not to beat the ever living shit out of the Commodore’s backward cap wearing driver. He was the very model of controlled rage.

So, in summary: Protection, Assumption, Reaction. Remember them when you are on the road.

He’s so nervous, avoiding all her questions.

Monday, March 23rd, 2009

I have a twitter account. I have become quite addicted to it. I find it useful in stalking people, attempting to be witty and finding out what my favourite alt-models are up to.

I also like that twitter is popular enough to not only be spoofed, but to be spoofed in an amusing way:

I twittered earlier about how men need to have some clothing on to be regarded as sexy, but women don’t. It was pointed out that men in just socks is as far from sexy as you can get, and that is 100% completely true. But women in socks is 100% hot and sexy.

And these flickr links are the proof:

And these deviantART* ones back it up:
un (maybe nsfw)
deux (nsfw)
trois (nsfw)

Now, to round off this post, some more links:
The Peter Saville Show Soundtrack.
The backpack I need to own (but can’t bring myself to).
A camera for the macro-enthusiast.

* You may need a deviantART account to see these.

It’s the only way to live.

Wednesday, March 11th, 2009

My car has decided that it is time for it to branch out from being awesome on the road to trying to be awesome online.

It has a twitter account. Here:

It tried to post a GPS record of it’s journey this morning but the mapping tool said that it had travelled only 0.76km. Straight up. I’m sure it will try again later.

I might like Tarantino, but sometimes you’ve got to wonder.

Friday, February 13th, 2009

Back when I was in school I used to be quite good at making short (yet crappy) animations. I did really well in my Media studies classes and I ended up studying film and drama at University (or College, for my American cousins).

I used to write, make and be involved in short film. I had a monthly short film night at one of the better indie clubs. I used to enjoy every aspect of films, from paying to see them, to talking about them, to reading up about every smallest trivial aspect of them.

Then it stopped being fun. Or so I thought.

Turns out I stopped being fun, because if I had still been fun I would have made the following short animation (which I cannot recommend anyone view):

P.S. The above is very not safe for work/school/home/anywhere.

In transit you pass among the strangers of the world.

Thursday, February 12th, 2009

I got a random Facebook email this week from this Clare girl asking, in the subject line, if she knew me.

I was going to bin it, because I pretty much have enough friends on Facebook without new unknown ones requesting the add. But I clicked on and read it without thinking, and it turned out she thought that her father was my Godfather and that her parents and my parents used to be the best of friends.

I had no idea I even had a Godfather, so I called up The Mother and asked her if she knew these people. She freaked out and told me I had to get their contact details as quickly as possible as she had been trying for years to get in touch with them!

Turns out they had been trying for years to get in touch with my folks, and in desperation and at the suggestion of a friend of theirs, they tried to find me instead (The Father used to work on some secret security stuff and was deliberately hard to track down), as they thought I would be of the right age to have an online life.

Thank God they didn’t find that hentai site I used to run.