WALL-E & EVE sittin’ in a tree, uh… s-p-a-r-k-i-n-g?

If you haven’t already seen the new Pixar movie WALL-E, then get up off your ass. In a summer where box office gold is being pumped out on an almost weekly basis WALL-E definitely stands out as one of the more, how could I word this? Epic movies of this summer. But as always with success comes hate, the pundits and critics are out in full bloom tossing their two-cents worth of verbal excrement. Many people acknowledge WALL-E as one big piñata of social commentary. The trash-ridden Earth a bleak look into our future, it’s a sight that would have made Al Gore either weep like a little girl or orgasm like the most experienced of porn stars . Critics and activists alike support WALL-E as the model medium to translate the message of “global warming” to a broader audience than the ever so optimistic “Day after Tomorrow” did.

There are others arguing that WALL-E’s message is that of the worlds, no scratch that AMERICA’S “tub-gut” problem. In the movie humans fled the Earth to their corporate sponsored luxury-resort spaceships where they and for generations after led easy, lethargic lives eventually devolving into basically Play-Doh people. Blinded by a continuous feed of television, snazzy advertising, and social networking-AHEMfacebookmyspaceeharmonyy-whoo excuse me I seemed to have soiled myself. Along with being equipped with the iPhone of Lay-Z Boy chairs WALL-E has become the poster boy of YMCA’s and Jenny Craig fitness centers everywhere.

Which is all fine and dandy until you walk outside and can instantly pick out 20 other people around the block that are even fatter. People also view WALL-E as an outcry against big corporations and their inevitable takeover of private enterprise. In the film Buy ‘n Large basically controls the entire world, uhm yeah the entire world. The CEO of the corporation is even the CEO of yes, the world. No where throughout Earth and in the luxury space cruiser is a square inch not plastered, broadcasting, or showcasing the ­­­­­­company logo. Much to my delight there was even a billboard advertisement adjacent to the Apollo lunar mission site, mmm classy.

Then there are the crazies who think WALL-E signifies the advent of the oncoming robotic revolution. These folks are usually quirky, insomniacs, and sexually depraved so our best bet for safety would be just to wait it out until the new Star Wars flick comes out.

But truth be told these people need to just CHILL. Breathe, relax, touch yourself, just anything just chill out and remember this is a Disney Pixar children’s movie. People need to stop going with all the hype and realize this movie for what it truly is… a love story. A lone robot stranded on this desolate planet that’s just in the shitter. He’s become self-aware collecting interesting scraps of memorabilia, befriending a cockroach who we will aptly name “Bob” for the heck of it, and becoming enamored with “Hello Dolly!” And witnessing the simplest of human gestures, holding hands, he realizes that he is truly alone. And you feel for Wall-E you truly do as each of his antics reminiscent of a time when we were all dopey lovebirds uncertain of how to express our feelings but we did know that we LOVED. Loved as Wall-E loved EVE, his robotic laser-cannon wielding soul mate. And the relationship between the two robots that Pixar tries to illustrate is just another testament as to why Pixar is and forever shall be the leader in CGI movies leaps and bounds beyond Dreamworks and LucasFilm. Their ability to express the relationship through absolutely NO dialogue, through Wall-E’s awkward advances and EVE’s destructive responses we can truly see the love and emotion that “overrides” the two. You can’t help but hope with bated breath with every attempt Wall-E makes to hold EVE’s hand. You can’t help but grimace as the two are torn apart and you can’t especially help but cheer when the two finally, hand-in-hand realize the love the two have for each other. Believe me when I say that I would love to describe the journey that these two ‘bots make but no words could ever come close to grasping the full beauty of it. Hence the next to no dialogue that occurs between the two besides a few synthesized “WAAAALLLLLEEEEEE” or “EEEEEVVVUHHHAAAA”.

 

I Survived Living in a Culture Different from my own

Appalling. Just when I thought American television had reached the bottom of the bottomless barrel with shows like Flavor of Love and a Shot at Love 2, ABC premiered “I Survived a Japanese Game Show” on Tuesday. The show centers on the immersion of 10 American contestants into Japanese culture, in an attempt to simulate culture shock.

Well I’ll be damned…

First I’d like to congratulate whoever sat in a small cubicle, scratching that big ol’ noggin of theirs thinking up more ways for the World to hate America. First, we have people going to islands that are already populated, and telling them to survive for one month where people have had to live their whole lives. “Oh no, I don’t have my BlackBerry! But I love this game!” Second, we have washed up rap stars choosing among eligible, yet extremely trashy bachelorettes, and bisexual vixens doing the same only with a mixed group of both men and women. And now this.

God I love America.

Only in our culture do we lack the creativity to create our own game shows that we must infiltrate those of other countries. Only in our culture do we send our own people to be humiliated for their lack of dexterity and any type of ability to complete an obstacle course. Only in our culture is all of this a game.

Now ignoring the fact that the show is a complete parody of Japanese culture, as the only attempts to instill culture into the motley crew of contestants are riddled with tones of mockery, the actual content of the show is complete shit.

Let’s start with the contestants. Darcy, the first one to get eliminated on the show cried after the first challenge because she couldn’t stay on a treadmill long enough for her team mate to eat “mocchi balls” off of her head. Grow some balls woman, this isn’t a Miss Kentucky pageant where crying and a few hand jobs will get you a bouquet of flowers and a banner. This is Japan, the modern equivalent of Sparta, land of Ninja Warrior and Unbeatable Banzuke. This isn’t The Bachelor or Wipeout- this is the real shit. The rest of the contestants lack any of the spunk or ability that normal Japanese contestants have shown on these programs, and are simply the scum scraped from the bottom of the melting pot that is the United States.

Next is “Mama-san”, the small Asian woman who is deceptively cute but comes with a temper larger than my sister’s bosom. If they were trying to go for the anger and fury carried by Asian mothers, they failed miserably. I once met Leu’s mother, as the Heavens cried and the Earth shook beneath my feet, and even her friendly greeting caused me to shake in my bootsies. Mama-san’s commands didn’t even make me bat an eyelash.

It was one hour of my life wasted. Never have I been so insulted by an American produced television program. The show will probably be redundant and the idea will be overused by the time they try to push for a second season come next summer.

But God knows I will be there watching every second of it. The same way people thrive on the trashy antics of Tila Tequila, so do I thrive on the way America continues to come last in the World stage of culture and respect.

-Lukas

 

America’s Favorite Bisexual is at it again…

Tila Tequila. What is there to say about this girl? I had previously written an entry about her but it was lost to the wrath of the faultiness of Florida Power & Light Company. An owl lodged itself into a transformer which led to a city-wide blackout, so keep up the crackerjack job fellas. I was at a loss, I did not know if I would be able to emulate the same amount of “awesome” that the recently deceased post had possessed, that is… until I saw another commercial advertising “Shot of Love 2″ and I got pissed.

There’s just something about Tila Tequila that angers me, its innate. Almost as if somewhere, amongst all those ribosomes, nucleic acids, chromosomes, and xylophones, God had just spit balled some genetic trait in me to automatically hate Tila. So if you do get offended by this you won’t be hating me… you’d be hating God, but I digress.

The whole premise for “The Shot of Love” is Tila can finally find some love which is rubbish in itself because whores can’t love. When was the last time you picked up a trick, took her to the movies, had a nice dinner at an upscale restaurant and then romanced her with a medley of adult contemporary love songs from the 80’s? Hell I would, if there was a chick that was willing to sexual satisfy me for a buck-fifty I’d introduce her to the parents and take her out to the family beach house. But no, whores won’t have it because they’re too busy getting it on in the backseat or tossing salads.

Apparently to receive Tila’s love you have to EARN it, by completing and succeeding in a number of “games” less physically challenging than the Gauntlet, more mundane than FearFactor but definitely less revolting than Flavor of Love

Ho-ly Sh-*beep*

So whoever wins the game gets to have a “date” with Tila. Been there done that! You guys know how these celebrity-love shows are. What really peeves me is the so-called “drama” that UNFOLDS throughout the show. Drama based on what? Bullshit, that’s what. Drama that has no twists, and no unexpected surprises. Only drama that EVERYONE would expect if you put lesbians together with “dudes” who are all gunning for one single girl. Why would “dudes” warrant a pair of quotation marks? Because “dudes” specify a type of male devoid of all creative thought and intelligence. Whose lives are shaped and led by one thing and one thing only, and lady it rhymes with ‘pushy”.

Asian ‘pushy’

And then the commercial showed Tila crying, and I remember interviews where she just seemed so desperate for love. She almost made it seem like she rightfully deserved it even. Let’s cut the proverbial shit Tila and come clean shall we? No don’t start crying, no girl don’t even touch me lemme ’splain something to you m’kay? You are an attention seeking whore. ASW’s can’t afford to find love because no one gives a hoot (it took ALOT of willpower to not write what I wanted to write, and ladies it rhymes with ‘phuck’) about ASW’s who are not partying all the time, who are not making the headlines, who are not indulging in the sinful decadence that life has to offer. Love? That’s something for like, ya know normal people. What this girl really needs to do to find love is to drop the shenanigans, but put on some clothes, and try to find “the one” the right way. Not through seeing who can chug a hotdog slushie the fastest (yes that was a challenge). If anything, Tila get away from that damn show because it ain’t like MTV’s trying to help you. Have you seen the kind of socialite trash they bring onto that show? Maybe there might be one or two gems but… ugh-yuck.

Example of induced: ugh-yuck

Chi sono io che scherzo? Ladies would you like phuck me?

tila’s credentials:
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tila_tequila)

playboy: asian cybergirl of the month

hostess of pants-off dance-off

lead singer of band “jealousy”

singles include “sex” and “paralyze”

new line of clothing slogan “So hot you’ll just want to take it all off”

-Leu

 

“Leaving on a jet plane”

Short Story

Ray held the lambent match head near his stogy, shielding the flickering flame from the harsh Chicago wind with his free hand. Taking a long drag from his “Windy City Special #5″ he took account of his surroundings for the first time. They were standing on the tarmac of one of the runways at O’Hare airport. It was bare, save for a few planes taxiing in and out the rundown terminal a couple yards from where they stood. Rewind a few decades back and we would have had the perfect backdrop to one of those old silent noir movies. But as the 757 airliner streaking by a few meters from Ray and his charge would testify, right now this was pretty dangerous.

“Well kiddo I guess-… o shit” He quickly dropped the dying match onto the cracked asphalt and was quick to stamp it out. Somewhere in the fumble, his cigar flopped out from between his lips.

“Ow.” she muttered. “That’s a really disgusting habit ya’know? Shud stop.” She dug into her shirt and removed the stogy from the confines of her blouse and nonchalantly tossed it behind her only to have it splatter across the front tire of a landing jet. Could anything more destructive been more arousing?

“Heh, that’s pretty funny-…” Ray began

“If you’re gonna make some witty comment or joke comparing how our relationship panned out to the effect of your recently deceased cigarette, don’t. It’s been noted and acknowledged” she interrupted.

“It’s a cigar actually”

“Shut up.”

“I love you”

“Shut up.”

Ray sighed and rubbed his neck trying to think of a way to make some sort of a classy exit. He couldn’t come up with anything that would do. He sighed praying for inspiration. Nope nothing, he sighed again, nothing, sighed, nothing, sighed, nothing, fell. When he came to he was flat on the floor looking up at her face, a forefront before a gang of gray clouds.

“You forgot to inhale.” she said.

“So you’re leaving?”

“On a jet plane.”

“Don’t know when you’ll be back again?” he added with a hint of uncertainty gracing the corners of his coy grin.

She smiled. God she was beautiful.

“Can I hug you? A quick peck?” he inquired. She rolled her eyes and shook her head like a mother watching her son in the midst of a race. Neck-to-neck with the leader, on the brink of victory… only to slip on a used condom. What? Shit happens.

“Ray you know I’ll be coming back in like a few months right?”

“Well yeah, but-”

“Stop acting like such a girl.”

His mouth stamped close. Whatever thought that was planning to come out was softly shoved back in by her sheer honesty and truth. She patted his cheek.

“I’ll see you soon Ray.”

And just like that she was gone. he stayed on the floor, it was all he could do. No part of him wanted to react or move. He yearned to run for her, grab her and swing her by the crook of her arm and end with a kiss ushering in a crescendo of the most heart-warming of film scores, Alfred Hitchcock eat your heart out. But he didn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t. He just laid there.

Water began to blur his vision and he felt moisture lapping his face, which was funny, because the skies had cleared and the sun was out, shining.

-Leu