You are currently browsing the archives for November 2010.
I don’t get it. I really don’t. Somebody out there help me. Airport bodyscans are an invasion of privacy? Really? How?
Okay, she's got an extra roll above the belt line, and his junk tilts to the right. Big deal. I'd be much more concerned with the strange growth on his left shoulder. Seriously, dude, get that checked out.
Putting aside the question of radiation – and believe me, no one loves a good conspiracy and coverup as much as I do – but I happen to think the government is probably doing a much better job killing us off by letting us breathe near cars than taking a peek at our flab. Read more...
My fellow Offender Anderson previously blogged about Japanese porn star Maria Ozawa’s interesting dilemma in the largely Muslim nation of Indonesia where she has a huge fan base (this is according to Anderson, I have no knowledge of this subject myself). Because she’s so big there, she has been contracted to appear in a number of non-porn films by an Indonesian production company, but this has met with ire and protests from conservative groups like the Islamic Defenders Front (FPI).
Well, one of these Maria Ozawa-starring, non-porn Indonesian films entitled Hantu Tanah Kusir (Carriage Ghost) was just released in that country a few days ago. I don’t know much about the movie, but it looks like your typical Asian B-horror flick. Here’s a description from a local Jakarta paper:
Since I was busy working with my fellow Offenders with the Interpretations Film Initiative, I’ve kind of neglected the Short Film Spotlight here on the blog. Well, it’s back again and perfect timing, because this edition showcases one of my favorite short films from the past couple of years. MIRACLE FISH, directed by Luke Doolan, is one of those rare gems. Here’s the plotline:
8 year old Joe has a Birthday he will never forget. After friends bully him, he sneaks off to the sick bay, wishing everyone in the world would go away. He wakes up to find his dream may have become a reality.
The film was Oscar nominated last year and is just another example of great, atmospheric film work coming from Australia. A film editor by trade, Doolan recently cut the Aussie crime drama Animal Kingdom, which is another film to add to your Netlfix queue. Enough chit-chat and watch this amazing film after the jump…. Read more...
Quentin Lee is the film hustler. A severely edited-for-TV version of his latest feature “The People I’ve Slept With” that he directed and produced is currently on Logo. It will be due out uncut on VOD and DVD from Maya Entertainment. He writes for filmhustler.com when he’s in the mood.
Image courtesy of Daric Loo
Exactly. Why not start your own film festival if you have movies to screen that didn’t get into other film festivals? I have to say that’s the best motivation to start a film festival—having that passionate need of showing films (whether your own or others) that other film festivals neglected.
That’s how Slamdance started. It was a reaction against Sundance not accepting several filmmakers’ features. Those rejected filmmakers went to Park City in 1995 and started their own festival–Slamdance–which has become a bit of an institution of its own.
In the same fateful year, I remember that due to the limited slots in shorts programming, the then Los Angeles Asian Pacific Film Festival ended up not taking Justin Lin’s and a few other Asian American students’ shorts. Jennifer Kim, Daric Loo, Justin Lin, a few students and I banded together to form APACT, the Asian Pacific American Coalition in Film & Television, at UCLA. We also started our own annual film festival to showcase the films made by both undergraduate and graduate film students of APA descent at UCLA. Read more...
For those of you living under a rock, McDonalds’ McRib sandwich is back. On November 2, the McRib once again became available nationwide for “a limited time only.” So what does that mean? Well, just that the McRib is going away again on December 5. That’s just one week, people! And who knows when it’ll be back?
But first, for those of you indeed living under a rock, what is a McRib? Well, I’m not actually sure but according to wikipedia, “The McRib consists of a formed ground pork patty, barbecue sauce, onions, and pickles served on a 6 inch (15.2 cm) roll.” Honestly, you probably don’t want to know anything more about it then that so I’d recommend against any further investigation.
What I do know is the McRib was first introduced back in 1981 as a regular menu item, but pulled in 1985 due to lackluster sales (except in Germany where its popularity has kept it on the menu). Since that time, it’s re-appeared periodically as “a limited time only” item and has developed a devoted following over the years. It’s become a bona-fide “cult” hit; the culinary equivalent of something like The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Read more...
He was South African. I had met him earlier this year on a backpacking trip.
And now here we stood -after downing 2 pitchers of really strong margaritas, a full french dinner with a whole bottle of red wine, and 2 useless roobios teas that did NOT sober us up as planned- on 18th Street and Florida Street in the Potrero Hill district. It was 11:30pm. We barely knew each other.
It’s just about that time of the year again. Festive shades of red and green are starting to pepper the streets and amazing arrays of lights are coming to life in neighborhoods across the country. Blow-up reindeer and snowmen tower over more and more lawns on the way home.
As a southern California resident however, the signs of the holidays are pretty much restricted to those made by man. When it comes to matters of nature’s grandeur, we’re pretty much stuck with (what is to natives) blistering cold minus the awesome wonder of snow. Every time I go outside now – which isn’t often – I think about just how much more understanding I’d be of the weather if it were at least accompanied with the once-a-year abilities to make snow angels and add a scarf to my outfit without worrying about my fading masculinity.
Hope y’all had a happy thanksgiving – that is if you celebrate that kind of thing – and are ready to play catch up with YOMYOMF. This last full week of November, we explore the universal appeal of breasts pressing against our freedom of speech; the correlation between threatening times and amounts of sweet, sweet intercourse; and the exemplary human behavior on display on Black Friday. Read more...
Regular readers of this blog know that the Japanese sometimes have a perverse take on things, but I have to say I don’t think I’ve come across anything that’s quite as disturbing than the video you’ll see below.
As far as I can tell, this clip is from some Japanese children’s show. A little girl and her furry friends seem to be singing about the fun of…well, being abducted, held hostage and abused/tortured. According to the English subtitles, the song contains such kid-friendly lyrics as:
He forces me to wash him.
He guides me to the stirrups.
I pray for death’s release.
I am bleeding internally.
As well as the aforementioned chorus of:
In his cellar, I am chained to a radiator. Read more...
My son Rafael finished up his freshman year JV football season with a mild concussion and a triumphant 42-19 loss against Kennedy. He declared it a great game because, head injury aside, he got a lot of playing time, plus it was the smallest point gap the Albany JV Cougars enjoyed all year long (outside of one fluke victory early in the season).
Naturally my wife Linda flipped out over the mild concussion – the term used by the team trainer – and promised Rafael he would never play football again. But Rafael kept his cool. The season was over anyway, and he knows his mom. If he just didn’t faint or his eyes didn’t roll back in his head for the next day or two, she would back off and he’d be suiting up again next fall. Read more...
So I was driving home after my annual family Thanksgiving gorging and passed a Target store to see a line of waiting consumers already snaking around the block. Yup, Black Friday is here—the day after Thanksgiving, the start of the Christmas shopping season and, traditionally, the busiest retail sales day of the year.
So an official national holiday where we’re encouraged to eat until we pass out is followed by an unofficial national holiday where we’re encouraged to spend as much money as possible on flat-screen TVs that’ll be out of date in three months and clothes we’ll only wear once. No wonder the terrorists hate us.
Personally, I’ve never understood the appeal of the whole Black Friday thing. Frankly, I hate shopping, but even if I didn’t, there are very few things I’d be willing to camp out all night for that doesn’t involve a naked Megan Fox, whipped cream and a dwarf with a video camera.
Still, I get why Black Friday is such a big deal and why we should show our “gratitude”—the bargains are great and we need to help stimulate our economy like good capitalists or the terrorists win, but sorry, I’m still going to choose to opt out. And if that makes me un-American, then all I can say is–praise Allah! Read more...
On Thanksgiving, many of us will be hard pressed to find things to be thankful for, what with the lackluster economy and having to suffer full body scans at the airport.
As a writer, however, I have had the privilege of researching many stories over the years which have made me realize how fortunate I am to be living in the here and now, rather than in the over there or back then. It just takes a moment to contemplate over the things that have been banned in the past or are currently banned in other countries to know what to be thankful for. Here are my top 10:
Creating art that did not conform to the ideals of Social Realism was banned in the Soviet Republic during Stalin’s rule. Besides political and religious art, the ban included abstract art, expressionism and anything depicting nude bodies. Avant garde artists who did not adapt to the policies were often either murdered or sent to the gulag. Even after Stalin died in 1953, nonconformist art was illegal until the mid ‘70s.
I am grateful that although I am not an artist and cannot distinguish between an authentic Pollock and a kid’s spaghetti painting, I can at least admire both without fear.