I want to go to the top of a really tall building, take a leak, finish, zip up, and then have my pee hit the ground. I want my entire pee to be airborne. Man I love beer.
Nothing says "Manly" like a sweat-stained khaki ascot
I've had the idea for years, but finally found a like-minded group of sickos to make it happen. Last Saturday, a small group gathered to watch the Chuck Heston Dystopic 70's Science Fiction Trifecta: The Omega Man, Soylent Green, and Planet of the Apes. We watched them in this order, which coincidentally happened to also be the order of quality.
The Omega Man, while undeniably awesome, is not a very good movie (much as it pains me to admit.) Many of the scenes are so awesome they nearly made the DVD player explode, but they are spaced out between long stretches of boring filler, tiresome pseudo-religious pontificating by Matthias, and poor pacing. Bonus points for the edgy-for-the-times Hawt Interracial Sexxx between Rosalind Cash and Heston, even if we don't get to see it happen. Actually I'm thankful for that nod to propriety. I did recognize the morning-after scene where the camera lingers on Cash as she sits topless on the bed, ambient light from the window highlighting her spectacular Afro, from more than one black velvet painting. We take inspiration where we can find it.
Soylent Green, I was surprised to discover, is actually a pretty decent movie - well paced, devoid of filler, and competently directed and acted throughout. (I'd seen it before, but quite some time ago.) Something I noticed on this viewing is that although it takes place in a world beset by massive overcrowding, most of the scenes only have a few people in them, and freqently take place in nearly empty surroundings. I suppose this is intended to create an unsettling juxtaposition - are we, the viewers, supposed to contemplate how a completely human-dominated environment alienates and isolates us? - or did they just not have enough budget to hire more extras? A question for the ages.
There is little to be said about POTA that hasn't already been said elsewhere. It's simply the most fantastic movie ever made, managing to be simultaneously lodged firmly in the 70's (actually '68, but polyester culture and fashion had already taken hold at that point), yet still timeless and universal. And fascinatingly creepy. My one great regret is that I never got the chance to see it on the big screen without knowing the ending in advance. (When I first saw it as a kid, I didn't completely understand the significance of the final scene, although I do remember being awed and a little scared by it.) Also, my favorite Heston line from the movie isn't one of the famous, spectacularly hammy outbursts that everyone knows and loves, i.e. "Get your stinking paws off...", "You maniacs!" etc. etc.). Instead, it's the casually arrogant pronouncement upon sizing up the primitive sub-human tribe in the beginning of the movie:
"If this is the best they've got, we'll be running this place in a week."
They just don't make Americans like Chuck these days.
Election Day Just Ain't Quite the Same When You Vote By Mail
Voted tonight. Felt pretty good. The choices were all easy.
It was difficult to keep myself from using "Cap'n Jack Sparrow" as a write-in candidate to every uncontested county race. Luckily I was able to keep my head.
It is strange, though, voting from home in the comfort of your den. I'd imagine it makes drunken voting quite a bit more likely, for starters. I miss the ritual of going to the local elementary school in the dark after work, pouring down rain most years - practically a monsoon today - and standing in line with a bunch of strangers, shuffling forward to meet the elderly keepers of the vote, who were clearly born into the role. Ah, a little place I liked to call America. You can almost feel it, can't you?
Still can't bring myself to mail it. I'm going to drop it off at the Auditor's office tomorrow. Somehow it doesn't seem right to be delivering votes directly to the Auditor. In different times they only got called in to investigate mistakes after
the fact. Different time. I guess.