The Degradation of a Genius: Rutger Hauer

It might as well be known, that I, Laogzed, god of the troglodytes, have an interest in film outside the Jodorowsky. And when a god has an interest in film, you should take notice. Film is fantasy, but, when used properly, it is visceral and can change lives (I'm thinking specifically of Kubrick's Spartacus.) Therefore, it with great sorrow that I report to the readers of A&S that my favorite line from any Hollywood ever. Let it be known:




















And now, for the bad news. (I'm full of it, and being chaotic evil, I have mixed feelings about spreading bad news--but refuse to get philosophical about it.) There is going to be a re-release of Ridley Scott's Blade Runner: The Director's Cut. And they've done some cosmetic work on it, which apparently isn't as invasive and shitty as the Lucas Makeover. But, however, they redid some dialogue, and now Rutger Hauer's classic line has been changed from "Give me more life, fucker," to, get this:

"Give me more life, father."


ERRRRROWWWWWWWOOOOOOOGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

I'm not calling a fatwa--that's not my style, I'm not that kind of god. (Well, I am, but not on something this petty.) But it has made me more cynical, and now I have more cause for hesitation. My faith has been misplaced. Luckily my troglodyte psychiatrist has upped my dosage of troglodyte prozac. (Par-boiled pretty little girls.)

Wings of Hope: The Self-Mailing Anecdote

I have acquired the Herzog Documentary Boxset, and yesterday I watched the first disc. The highlight was a doc called "Wings of Hope," about the sole survivor of a plane crash that happened in the Peruvian jungle in 1971. This happened at the same time that Herzog was filming Aguirre. And so, 25 years later, Herzog did a doc about this incredible woman who fell from the plane in the sky--that basically just disintegrated--and somehow landed in the jungle alive. And then she wandered, almost unconsciously--because of her concussion, and almost blindly--because her face was so badly bruised she could barely only see out of just one eye, for 10 days until some locals found her. The movie is very good; I think it's superior to Little Dieter Needs to Fly. (Note: I have not seen Rescue Dawn yet.)

The heroine of the movie, Julianes, is German by birth, but her parents lived in Peru because her father was a biologist studying the jungle ecosystem. Julianes grew up in the jungle, and that fact is evident in the movie because of how comfortable she seems to be in the wild. (She herself is a Phd biologist expert on jungle bats.) But when she was a child, her father was so desperate to get to Peru that he, a la Charles D. McKinley, shipped himself there. Well, actually, he sneaked on board a plane; packing himself in a crate of salt. So another man in a box. And overseas. And in salt. But I guess that was in another time; a time of heroes and villains. And maybe Herzog made the story up. So, who knows. I'll look into it.

Introducing

Myself. Hi. I'm god of the troglydites. The transliteration of my name in English is Laogzed.

If you're interested in my work, check out my wikipedia page. I find it really handy to have a wikipedia page. Don't you?

Oh, I see. There's no wikipedia entry on you. Hm.

How interesting.

More bad news for heathens: Behold the Atheist's Nightmare--UPDATED

I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, or at least, bad news middleman, but here are some serious knocks to the evolution worldview: (via Sadly, No)
Teflon Peanut Butter Point:

And behold the Atheist's Nightmare:

Next we have an interview with Kirk Cameron and Bill O'Reilly (softened with commentary by Youtube's own "Pothead Pundit.) I bring this to you not for your entertainment but only as a citation. I wish the whole world to remember Bill's rebuke to the evolution worldview: "Sun goes up, sun goes down; tide comes in, tide comes out—there’s no miscommunication." That's it. There's no "miscommunication." Bill mentions Richard Dawkins, who I think is a foolish man for getting into this argument. It's not worth debating with masterbaiters like Bill. But I love this insight in the intellectual world of Bill, "No Miscommunication." God's will is a communication, and he makes no mistakes. So let me throw in some Werner Herzog, which is something that can reconcile the abyss with superstition: Creation is a Mistake.

guest blogged by:
Laogzed,

god of the troglodytes

Oops, forgot to include the disgusting Bill O'Reilly video.

Feast on the SLIME my sloppies!

Gary Gygax Save Me Oh Christ I'm Going to Hell

I have been informed in a manner I can relate to. I played so much Dark Dungeons in my youth and college years that there's no hope!!

But luckily, I'm informed by Foreign Policy Experts at House of Payne that I can repent by buying Rapture Expansion Sets compatible with Hasbro's D20 system--the inheritors of the Great Gygax's Chainmail cum D&D system.

Cops complaining about other cops busting them

via Mother Jones Blog.

Hikes, Evil Twins, and a Little Bell for your Mornings...

This is what's going on in the world today..... Anyways, I went hiking looking for signs of alien life in New Hampshire. I got a tip from the Alien Underground that scattered through out the Appalachian woods are fossilized bones from Aliens that lived there over 50,000 years ago. Now before you jump in and say a bone can not become a fossil in 50,000 years (or can it?) you must remember that Alien bone fossilizes at a rate much faster than human or animal bone due to the Earth's climate. I did happen to find this one bone while hiking. It's quite large and as you can see from the shape and size I believe that it's a "wing bone."

.

But much more happens in the woods of New Hampshire than one would expect. If you are ever looking for a good place to hunt then come here.

Note how its organized. There are days for bows and arrows and days for guns. If you can read the bottom--the week of December 12th is reserved for "Space Alien hunting".....

In other news the cloned Kinski twins have completely rebeled against their doctors in the hospital labs in the Swiss Alps. My contact sent me these photos of the cloned Kinski children.

And finally, the Washington Post ran a story about what would happen if a "successful" musician played music in the subway station. Would their talent shed away the rush and hurry attitude of commutators. Could the power of music transform those unfortunate ones who could not pay 100 dollars a ticket to see him play......Check out Joshua Bell as you have never seen him before. He won't play Purple Haze, like Nigel Kennedy or the Kronos Quartet....Good for him for not selling out just to earn a buck in the subway....

Pat Boone and the Seven Dwarves: Sneaky, Dopey, Smarmy, Angry, Sleazy, Grouchy and Dork

Sadly, No gives the breakdown. I just wanted to let you know who the seven dwarves are in Pat's rendition:

A modern American fairy tale
Posted: September 22, 2007
1:00 a.m. Eastern

By Pat Boone
© 2007

Once upon a time, in a land they called America, a little girl was born.

This little girl was so very beautiful, so exceptional, that her loving parents named
her Snow White. Truly, her lustrous black hair and limpid dark eyes were the perfect complement to her exquisite ivory skin. And as lovely as she was on the outside, she was even more beautiful within; her sweet, sunny personality absolutely melted everyone who saw her.

In her early childhood, her parents saw that she was taught all the important things – loving obedience, respect for others, politeness and ladylike behavior, and a childlike faith in God. These things she actually liked, and though she was quite playful and sunny, she exuded character and intelligence.

Then she met the Seven Dwarfs.

They'd been tagged with this name because they seemed so weird and insignificant; but they always clustered together, bound by strange, liberal and sometimes seditious beliefs. Some of them were teachers and others members of what was called a "civil liberties union." Somehow, they steadily gained and exerted mysterious influence. Their names were Sneaky, Dopey, Smarmy, Angry, Sleazy, Grouchy and Dork. [what about Sloppy, Boone --Ed.]

So, as it happened, just as Snow White entered school, full of innocence and a desire to learn, the Dwarfs managed to change all the rules. They cast a spell over the real and dedicated teachers, tricking them into imbibing a seductive potion they called New Education Alternatives; it sounded so attractive that it became very popular, coming to be known by the shorter "NEA."

Enticed by tempting promises of shorter hours, more money, lifelong tenure unrelated to performance in the classroom and even political clout as a huge voting bloc, the teachers allowed the NEA to drop very important things from the history books, to forbid absolutely any mention of God in the classroom or in essays, to promote all types of sexuality equally, even to grade-schoolers, to dictate that only evolution could be taught to explain the existence of the living world, and in general to erase any consideration of morality and American tradition.

Of course, Snow White's parents objected strenuously. They attended PTA meetings and complained that their daughter was continuously being taught things that were diametrically opposed to what they'd taught her at home, but their complaints were dismissed out of hand. And sadly, while they did their best to counteract the evil influence of the Dwarfs, little Snow White was drawn into the pervasive spell cast over the whole school system.

When she was barely into her teens, she began to experiment sexually, first with other kids and then with one of her grown teachers. Only later was it revealed that the teacher, a woman, was actually a wicked witch! Poor Snow White had been drawn into drugs as well as sex, and she soon discovered she was pregnant. The Dwarfs were only too happy to arrange an abortion – without notifying her parents. Confused and disillusioned, Snow White moved in with the wicked witch, eventually claiming to be her "wife."

In another part of town, in another spellbound school, a handsome young boy named Prince Charming was going through similar experiences. Snow White and Prince Charming would have made a perfect couple, as their parents would have dreamed – but under prolonged exposure to the same hypnotic spell, the boy was seduced by each of the Dwarfs and taught in the mandatory sex education class that he'd been born "gay." When he learned he'd contracted AIDS, he overdosed on drugs that were easily obtained just outside the principal's office, on the schoolyard.

His sorrowing parents arranged a memorial service, and everybody – including the Seven Dwarfs and the Wicked Witch – agreed he'd been just an "ideal kid," without an enemy in the world. Except the Seven Dwarfs and the Wicked Witch.

It would be wonderful if it could be said "… and they all lived happily ever after" – but of course, that would be a lie. Too many of them didn't even go on living very long, some struck down with insidious contagious diseases, which some tried to blame on uncaring politicians and hard-hearted, Bible-toting right-wingers.

The Dwarfs and so many of the children whose morals they'd corrupted traded honor and integrity and happiness for fatal neuroses and shorter life expectancy – while the very tradition of marriage and family dissolved and the reputation of the land called America was forever damaged. In the wake of so-called "new education alternatives," America steadily fell behind other nations in all areas of learning, and eventually it hardly mattered if she was absorbed into something called a North American Union. This sad attempt to merge all the strengths and weaknesses of Mexico, the U.S. and Canada – became Northern Venezuela.

This all may be a fable, a fairy tale, or a nightmare. But if it's the latter, we'd better wake up quick. Like many fairy tales and some dreams, there's too much reality for comfort.

Related special offer:

"Male and Female He Made Them"

Special offer:

Get Pat's latest book, "Pat Boone's America: 50 Years"

Pat Boone, descendant of the legendary pioneer Daniel Boone, has been a top-selling recording artist, the star of his own hit TV series, a movie star, a Broadway headliner, and a best-selling author in a career that has spanned half a century. During the classic rock & roll era of the 1950s, he sold more records than any artist except Elvis Presley. To learn more about Pat, please visit his website.

Really it needs no breakdown. As Hombre would say, "Damn tootin'!"

Declaration of The Talkie

thod and I decided that any movie that has synchronized sound should be called a talkie. It's a word that we need.

Bob Dylan is a Genius; Paul Krugman is a Blogger

But not of poetry. Here is an interesting forum discussion and debate on the Leonard Cohen Forum. And here is Paul Krugman's Blog. Is Paul Krugman a Genius? No. But he's a brilliant musician. I mean, he's a brilliant Op-Ed writer. But he's no blogger. To be a great blogger, one has to rejuvenate, revitalize, if not reinvent the very medium. And a magnificent guitar player. But I am not a guitarist--my training is unwaveringly pianistic--and I am not a poet--my Master's Degree in Fine Arts is in Fiction, not Poetry. So who am to speak? And whom am I to speak of? And at?

Let's settle the matter. First, who is Sam Leith? Sam Leith is the article of the writer about the poetry of Bob Dylan's genius. Excuse me. Sam Leith is the WRITER of the ARTICLE about the POETRY of BOB DYLAN. Or the NOT POETRY of Bob Dylan. (You can see where I'm heading with this.) As you can see from this BLOG POST by Paul Krugman, he prefaces the BLOG POST with:

Warning: this is a bit (actually, more than a bit) of a rant.

I was mildly surprised to read this. First, the NYT page is all rearranged and I can't find anything--I never could before but it's worse now. But I heard that the Times Select subscription service was cancelled and now the lumpens can read the fancy Friedman, Krugman and Dowdman articles. So I clicked on Krugman, because I've missed him! And then I got this on his latest:

Warning: this is a bit (actually, more than a bit) of a rant.

What?!?! You can't preface an Op-ED in the NYT with that Krazy Kruggie (I thought at the time)!! But then I realized what I clicked on was the Krugman Blog, The Conscience of a Liberal. (Now how about the Klugman Blog?)

He CAN RANT NOW!

COOL!

JUST LIKE ME! And, as you may have noticed, this a bit (actually, more than a bit) of a rant (actually a bit more than a rant.) We can drop the formalities and just say what's on our mind. But then what's the frame? What's the medium? Is THE BLOG POST THE DESTRUCTION OF A FRAME? Or is it just like an unending novel. I suppose we transplant Sam Leith's opinion about Dylan:

Song lyrics work with, and off, and sometimes against, a musical score. English students can very profitably think about the way you use language in the context of music - and I hope the Dylan education pack encourages them to do just that. But they need to recognise that it's a different game.

So, a blog is like song lyrics. Or rather, more like some guitar riffing inspired by guitar riffing on the other side of the room. Incidentally, I hate the idea of guitar riffing. I like the idea of "idea riffing." You know, after a few beers, and you get a running joke. So, a blog is a running joke. The healthier, or more popular blogs riff on each other. Like how Atrios pokes fun at Steve Simels' snobbishness at powerpop. And I loved the youtube wars. I guess a war is just a big riffing game. And this can kind of be applied to The Anxiety of Influence. I mean Harold Bloom's theory about how poets sort of war with their own anxiety of being inferior to other poets, namely the past poets, and this creates a sort of dialectic. (I know this isn't exactly what it's about. But it's Oedipal or gonadal or something fluidy in it. I read a part of it in undergrad, hated it. I think I'd still hate it even though I could probably understand what he was saying now.) And I guess a dialectic is a sort of warfare. And Op-EDs are definetely defenses and offenses and so on and so forth. (You can see where I'm going with this.)


So. Sam Leith, he, according to his bio:

is 31 years old. Literary Editor of The Telegraph, he also contributes book reviews, snide gossip and other nonsense to The Spectator and Literary Review. He lives in Brixton with his brother and a cat called Henry. The cat regards him with suspicion.

I don't know if he is still 31 years old. But more power to him. Obviously accomplished a lot by this time. (No John Keats or Byron...) Of course, my friend Wendi is younger than him, and she has published 8 poems and only started writing poetry 1 and a half years ago. And she might be the next Anne Sexton. So I might listen to what she has to say about Bob Dylan. A lot of people have said a lot of things about Bob Dylan. A lot of people exist. But they don't know everybody. What is genius? What is poetry? There's a faux debate right now about what a mercenary is and what isn't. There's a faux debate about what's a joke what's not a joke now. And now we're back to comedy. I quote Mr. Leith:

To praise comics in terms of resembling films or novels both patronises comics (as if to say: it's really good, so it can't be a comic) and misunderstands, or doesn't bother to think about, the formal differences between the mediums.

Hm. But to be a true innovator in a genre, mustn't one be a rejuvenator, a revitalizer, a rein venter, even?

Should I stop? Yes, I will stop. I will stop with the sloppy, obfuscating, confused inferences and get directly to the point. (But bear with me my patient reader--this is bit actually more than an actual bit (actually, more than a bit) of a rant.) What I'm trying to say is, wouldn't Krugman know how much a bit is? How could he know? He's an economist, not an English Major. And a RANT? What is Hamlet, but a rant of an angry young man? Do I mean Hamlet the MAN, or Hamlet the PLAY? And what is HAMLET but a the greatest POEM in the ENGLISH LANGUAGE? Or one of the greatest. A poem of genius by a playright of genius. What is this now, am I dissolving into deconstruction? NO!

Because I don't understand deconstruction. I understand that our words are not accurate. Anyhow. Ladies' Underwear. Get the hell out. Bob Dylan's no sell-out. He's a businessman of genius.

Shit I'm Angry!

But keep on focusing on those sick Peruvians. That's right, Hollywood. That's right your George Harrison Fords, your Tobey Aguirre Wrath of Wistful Thinking--the meteor space virus is going to kill us all! WRITE YOUR SCREENPLAYS, MOTHERFUQUERS!



Dima's shit fumes is my story. If anybody else takes Dima's story, i'll...well...I don't know what I'll do. (Up to but not including bodily harm to whomever or whatever. Why is there no object/subject pronoun for things?)

Waiting for the Bruce Willis version

We're all going to be choked to death by Dima's shit fumes.
Now, just wait a second, Mr. Woody Anderson, this is gonna be my movie, my novel! DAMN YOU!!!

Match point my ass. ARRMMMAGEEEDDDDUDE!

That Dirty Jimmy Carter

Holocaust Denier. Well, not really. But, apparently, denying the holocaust has been conflated with criticizing the Government of Israel in some quarters.

Cassavetes smacks the Gipper in the Lipper

Oh, how I love alternate reality:

From Irwin.

"For those about to clone, we salute you" - ACDC

I love Naomi Klein....She is awesome. Even if she is a Red, and has to go to the U.K. to get published. Why don't we have reporters in our news papers like her? Why do we have to fork over 5.95 for the New Yorker Harpers, and on occasion The Atlantic (Klein is sometimes in the Nation and that's getting pricey, too) to get our"truth fix?" Shouldn't we be able to spend 50 cents to get our news reported to us? It's not right....

Anyways, for those of you interested in the newest science to clone actors and artists I give you this bit of wisdom from the Humane Society's website...

"Cloning is an imperfect science and potentially dangerous for the animals involved, including the clone. Many animals cloned thus far have had a wide range of medical complications. Whether a cloned companion animal can lead a healthy and full life remains unknown. In addition, surrogate mothers who bear the cloned embryos until delivery may have to endure surgical procedures due to complications from pregnancy."

Fair enough, but even though it is one's personal experience that an artist goes through that helps shape their art (and no cloned animal would be exactly the same, as explained below) we must understand that a new kind of pain, both physical and purposeful from the clones mutated genes - and the scientists willingness to take part in adding the child clones suffering just for sadistc kicks, may even spark a richer genius than the being who originally walked this Earth.
Can you imagine a Rodin, born with talent but subjected to fifteen years in an unfriendly environment while given all the artistic tools necessary to create -added with the pharmacological, and psychological trauma he must endure in an oddly sterile and controlled environment - finally, told on his 18th birthday that he is clone, understanding why he has eight livers and three pinkies. His art would be other worldly. It would be classical and apocalyptical; Grace and Fire together, creating wonderful sculptures spurning generations of admirers.

"For those looking to replace a lost pet, cloning will not create an animal identical to the one who is gone; cloning cannot replicate an animal's uniqueness. Cloning can only replicate the pet's genetics, which influence but do not determine his physical attributes or personality. In fact, a pet's personality, the specific trait that most owners would like to preserve and the attribute that most endears a companion animal to his family, is the trait least likely to be replicated by cloning. In addition, there is no guarantee the cloned companion animal will even physically resemble the original pet.
The HSUS recommends that people visit their local shelter to adopt their next pet."

What would a cloned Benji , the 1970's movie star, be like at 2 years old? We can only wonder. Especially knowing that he was aware that his "other" was a famous movie star. Could you imagine the pressure the poor puppy would go through attempting to bring to screen the magic and adorable love that his counterpart gave millions in the 1970's (plus the pressure of earning 600 million for the studios)?



Which Benji would we get..?

Good Benji....? or Bad, "I'm not good enough," Benji?

This is, of course, just the tip of the ethical delima that the Swedish Doctors have been facing as they begin to share with baby Kinski the heart warming tales that made the first Kinski who he was.

Not Even The Nazis

Bombed the Louvre.

Pitchfork reviews Music

A spot-on review, I'd say, as usual, by Pitchfork:

"We can only hope that [music] will begin to grow with its fans over the next few millennia," Schreiber said. "If it can stick to what it does well, namely the song 'Peg' by Steely Dan, and Tuvan throat singing, then a sophomore effort will indeed be something to get excited about."

Welcome back SAC.

Hello fellow sloppers. It's good to be back...

It's been a long time, and as D knows I have been trapped in temp hell where the cubicles have no names and the complaints from callers who have had to succumb to a worse hell than myself after 15 minutes on hold listening to muzak of Herb Albert tunes never end.

As we all know Haiti has been invaded by UFOs and since I have been temping, my own investigation of transgalactic voyages has been disrupted by own needs to make a buck. Something has to give. Either all space voyages will have to cease or I have to find a real job that gives me the time I need further my investigations that have been swimming around the underground.





Rumor #1- A report from Sweden has indicated that human cloning has taking a new step by collecting human hair samples from famous 20th century figures. According to the clone specialist Yarg Boorgstein, "the 21st century, because of its suppression of the arts and endless funding of wars, horrible television comercials, and dependency on cell phones ,which suppresses human memory strength, will be unable to support the needs of genius' as we have in the past."


It should come as no surprise then that numerous graves have already been razed because of the lack of DNA found on donated clothing by fans wishing to see their idols perform once again.


Rumored clones have been Starlet Gretta Garbo, and one lesser known actor by the name of Klaus Kinski.


The Kinski clone-KK9873 has been nothing but trouble. As Yarg reported, the Kinski clone has already attempted to sleep with an underage Garbo and has wooed several nuns who oppose the experiments but can't seem to keep themselves away from labs. As result KK9873 (kinski) has had to be isolated in his own room under 24 hour supervision.





Rumor #2


From the halls of Washington it is rumored that an Alien ship could be used in Bush's next surge attempt in the middle east. Perhaps there will be more on this later.





In other news, the latest edition of English text books for Jr. High kids in Japan have chosen a very interesting character to scare kids into learning English...Is this right? Would you read his book? Millions in an unnamed pre-WWII country did...

Welcome back to America D. It's good to have you back...