26 April 2009

Halloween 2: August 28

So it looks like my favorite scary movie of all time is getting remade! Personally, I don't mind horror films getting remade because I've never seen one that was better than the original, so I know what to expect going into it. And guess what? I love shitty scary movies. This one looks good for the first half of the trailer, but then I guess it's partly an origins movie. I'm not sure I like this, since the first part of Rob Zombie's first Halloween movie was funny, but also the worst acting ever put on film. I don't really love Sheri Moon. But I suppose we'll see. I'm still excited. This almost makes up for the news of Bea Arthur's death.....

Ok, not at all.

Bea Arthur dead at 86.

Yes, you heard right. She passed away yesterday, April 25 of complications from cancer. Now I probably won't be able to watch my daily 5-hour marathon of Golden Girls without crying. Up until her death, she was making many of us laugh until we cried--remember Pamela Anderson's roast? Love you, Bea. Thanks for doing what you did best for so long.

23 April 2009

Johnny Thunders died this day 18 years ago

Johnny Thunders, guitarist for glam/proto-punk band, The New York Dolls, died April 24, 1991, in New Orleans's St. Peter House (pictured above) of a drug overdose. Some people say he was killed, but that's another story for another time.

On an eerily related note, I found out today that the remaining members of the New York Dolls are coming to New Orleans--remember that this is the place where he died--on June 7. I don't think I'll be able to make it, but holy God I wish I could.

Butt Race

According to Boing Boing, this is a "Stop action 8mm film Butt Race made with neighborhood kids in 1965 when director was age 14."

20 April 2009

Happy belated, Roddy Piper!

Sadly, I missed the birthday of wrestling superstar and lead actor in the perfect sci-fi movie, John Carpenter's "They Live," 'Rowdy' Roddy Piper, which was April 17. I hope he can forgive me for my insolence.
In related news, I hear a remake has been brewing of "They Live," and I can safely bet that I will be waiting in line to see it. And probably in a kilt.

17 April 2009

Fayette, Mississippi

Backstory: I got a speeding ticket a month ago in Fayette, Mississippi, for going twenty miles an hour over the speed limit (55 in a 75), despite the fact that there isn't a 55 MPH speed limit anywhere near Fayette on Highway 61; I am almost positive the policeman told me that it was a 65 zone, and I was pretty sure of that, too. In any case, I got a ticket for a 13 days expired driver's liscence and a "20 over" speeding ticket. In the meantime, I discovered that I had to take defensive driving, drive the 2.5 hours from Baton Rouge to Fayette, appear before a judge, and pay the fine ($185) in order to get the tickets removed from my record.

Today: My court date. I drove the 2.5 hours and arrived in downtown Fayette, which is a very poor, sad little town with dilapadated buildings next to functioning (barely) but very sad buildings, mayorial election signs arbitrarily skattered across yards on the deteriorating thin road, and a courthouse (see above picture). I went into the courthouse and my first sight was a prisoner exiting the electrician's room next to the elevator--apparently the jailhouse is next door, and the prisoners can move about freely from one building to another, as I saw another prisoner outside the jail later. I went upstairs, and a man began a conversation with me about how he and his friend were arrested and ticketed because his friend, who was driving his car, refused to take a breathalizer test at a checkpoint. (Realization that Fayette was a little backward). He was standing next to a man in a complete denim outfit and mullet. (Realization that I love Fayette).
Then I see people entering the courtroom, which I then enter to find a giant room FILLED with people. I sat down in the back in utter confusion, as I had no idea that everyone there was waiting to be seen by the judge. A man was in front testifying about--I kid you not--stolen goats. He was asked to give a description of the truck he saw carrying the stolen goats, and he said that it was a black Chevy with white trim and "pardon my english, but I don't know how else to say this: he had a big pair of black rubber nuts hanging down from his bumper." I was pretty much pissing myself after he said this because realization #2 (This guy is talking about rubber balls during an official court case involving stolen goats).
I left the courtroom confused and sat elsewhere. I talked to a nice young lady who described that she was awaiting her 10:00 speeding ticket appointment with the judge. The other woman with us also detailed her 10:00 appointment. I, too, had a 10:00 appointment. (Realization that Fayette is not very large). The policeman who ticketed me recognized me and asked if I had to come all that way just to pay the ticket. I sarcastically responded in the affirmative. He told me that he had never been to the courthouse before, and I figured that he was new on the force and wanted to make an example of this old college kid, and that's why my ticket was for more than it was in actuality. I re-entered the courtroom after sitting on a bench with a guy who got up to start peeing in a bathroon with the door open to the hall, in which I was the only person sitting.
The town drunk was pleaing no contest to driving under the influence of alcohol. A couple of people were called up after, and then it was my turn. I got up in front of all those people, pleaed no contest, and showed the judge my brand new Louisiana driver's liscence. He was kind enough to drop the expired liscence charge and sent me to the clerk's office, where I signed an affadavit, paid my money, and got the fuck out of there.

Not a very pleasant experience, but GOAT THEFT?!?! I love that part.

14 April 2009

Bed Buddy

Here's a true story for all you beautiful reader:

I took a sleeping pill last night so that I could go to sleep because I hadn't been able to by 2:30ish. So, I'm pretty much in a coma.......until 8:00 this morning, when, in my sleep, I (I think) put my hand on my no-no zone and felt something a little strange. I freaked out and threw my covers back.

A giant dead cockroach with two of his legs detached laying next to him.

But here's my question: how did he die? Did I kill him in my deep slumber? Why did he have two detached legs? Well, in any case, I couldn't go back to sleep--I was horrified and perplexed.
Any opinions on the death of said roach?

Peter Funch

Peter Funch is an artist who set up cameras and took pictures of people in the same place in NYC for months. He compiled the images so that (almost) everyone in the picture had something in common.
In this one, homeless people are the main focus. He also does people on cell phones, yawning, and, my personal favorite, facepalm.

13 April 2009