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Surviving on contests!

Posted 6 April 2002, 10.48 pm by Waldo

Anyone in the know (or Japan) has heard of those outrageous Japanese game shows. They put poisonous insects on people and the last one to chicken out wins, they sit in various uncomfortable substances and endure humiliating dares and circumstances. Well, all of that gets old. There’s no real human drama about it, now is there? It’s main prospect is that it represents the everyman put into strange circumstances.

Well, this tops all of them. This guy was put through what equates to a modern survival class. No clothes, no food, no ANYTHING. Plopped naked into a room with magazines, a huge pile of postcards, a table, a small radio, a telephone, some notebooks, and some pens. And it’s televised. Much more interesting than any reality based show I’ve ever seen (and it last more than a few weeks). If it weren’t such a repressive, mono-cultural, racist country I would love to live there. Instead I’m left with their scraps of TV and movies.

Too Much Freakin Time on my Hands

Posted 5 April 2002, 5.53 am by Berly

How much of a freak are you? I didn't take the test, because I'm fairly certain that my rating would shame both myself and anyone else who takes the test. Actually, it's entirely too damn long for my patience. If you have a lot of time on your hands, go take the 500 Question Freak Test .

Are you feeling all together ookie and don't need no stinkin' test to tell you what your freak factor is? Then maybe you will like Horrorfind .
" the directory and search engine dedicated to Horror, Halloween and Spooky subjects."

Sheesh, I hope there are no naked pictures of Mr./Dr. Spooky in there.


Posted 4 April 2002, 10.14 pm by Jake

He screamed in fury as he kicked the television set. The large-screen Sony tipped over and exploded in a supernova of light. Breaking the silence. "You idiots!" he fumed. "Can you not see what this thing is DOING to us?" Blank stares, dumb, vacant gazes. "You broke it." one man grunted in monotone. The angry man screamed "What in the fuck? Did you not hear what I just said? This shit is rotting our brains! We gotta get outta here while we still can!" In a panic, his eyes darted around the room. White walls, white floors, white ceilings. Even ths lamps buzzed with a fluorescent white light. The other faces, pale and emaciated, looked at him with sunken, hollow eyes. The only contrast was the colors of their uniforms. Each person was dressed in a different shade of neon. Green, yellow, blue, pink, orange...all stood out from the bleached background, like stains on a canvas. "You broke it," a woman chimed in, with the same dull voice as the other. "SHUT UP!" screamed the angry man. "You stupid cunt!! You're all stupid!!" One fellow glanced upward with bright eyes. "I'm not...." while glancing at the angry man's name tag "...Moore." Moore took the guy by the hand and lifted him to his feet. "That's more like it!" Moore whooped. "Now let's rouse the rest of these listless losers and get the hell outta here!"
"YOU BROKE IT!" growled another man. They all began to rise.
"Holy shit! Moore, what're we gonna do?"
"I don't know. Go for the door."
They all began to chant "You broke it. You BROKE it! YOU broke IT! YOU BROKE IT!" Their tones became angry and menacing. Moore and the boy scrambled at the door. Locked from the outside. They looked at the windows, which were bars welded to the building's metal facade. "There's no way out!" screamed the young man. "Shut UP!" Moore retorted. He began to beat on the door. When that proved useless, he began flailing his limbs against the triple-paned Plexiglas. "FUCK!" he yelled. He began to smash his massive body against the door. It didn't budge, and the group was advancing toward them. One fellow brandished a knife and roared, "YOU BROKE IT!"
Sharp pains, hands grabbing, tearing hair and skin, beating of fists. The white-hot feeling of a blade tore into their bodies. At the sight of blood, the crowd grew angrier. They began tearing and beating on each other. Within an hour, everyone was in a bloody, screaming heap on the floor.
The doctors looked on through the glass, unimpressed. "Happens every time," one doctor said to the group. They all laughed heartily as one of them went over and picked up the telephone on the desk. "Yes, nurses' station? Send in the janitors to room 12 A."

What's Your Fetish

Posted 4 April 2002, 5.37 pm by Craig

Konichiwa! I like tiny little asians!What's Your Fetish? Take the test at Nollykin's World.
Tell me What your Fetish is in the Comments!!

Blade 2

Posted 2 April 2002, 9.29 pm by Alexander

Those of you familiar with the original Blade will know of Wesley Snipe's 'Daywalker'. Half Vampire, half human, all the strengths and abilities of Vampires, but with a special serum that appeases his need for blood, he's a vampire hunter. And he has a fucking cool car.

The original was an extremely stylish, very silly, very violent action movie. It was extremely good in this respect. For the sequel, it seems director Guillermo del Toro (Kronos, Mimic) has said "Right, the first one was good, but there was too much acting, plot, and characterisation. The result is one of the most visually exciting, consistently violent and stylish action movies of recent times.

And when I say consistently violent, I mean the film is pretty much one big fight sequence. It's magnificent. The plot, such that it is, concerns a new breed of undead (called 'Reapers] lead by none other than Matt Goss (from Bros), who actually does admirably. Not surprising, considering all he really has to do is hiss and wear about 7 tons of latex. These 'Reapers' are feeding on Vampires, and our man Blade is sequestered by the Vampire elite to lead a 'crack' team of vampires in battle against these nasty little fucks.

Lots of things get beaten, shot, blown up and eaten. Some of the completely unnecessary fight scenes (ex: two messengers from the vampires infiltrate Blade's stronghold to deliver a message, the fight scene lasts about 10 minutes - they could have knocked) are so over the top, Snipes and his human opponent are given a cup of tea and a comfy seat while CGI wizards take care of it. The CGI is sometimes a little ropey, but your disbelief is by this point suspended somewhere above the auditorium, so you don't really give a fuck. The reaper's are the foulest thing seen on screen since Predators (to which they owe a debt) and the love interest vampire chick is dull enough to not interfere with the ass kicking. Which is good.

For gods sake, Blade WWF-style suplexes people, Matt Goss does a flying elbow drop on Blade by jumping crouching-tiger style to the top of a room and plunging about 600ft onto his chest, elbow first. What's not to like?

Absolutely insane. A new dawn in completely brainless cinema. A fucking masterpiece. Really really stupid. Just see it for god's sake.

What would Jesus Drive?

Posted 2 April 2002, 7.58 pm by Craig

I've been looking to purchase a new car recently. Unfortunately, there are so many makes and models to choose from. So, like any other time I have a choice, I ask myself "What Would Jesus Do?"

Visit Site.


Posted 2 April 2002, 8.16 am by Berly

So I made myself sit down and watch this movie. I promised myself I’d write a review of it – no matter how I felt about it afterwards.

By the way, the only reason I’m even trying to write a review is because this section gets the least action…somewhat like my real life, actually.

This is a “Toronto Independent Film Festival” winner. Problem is, they do not tell you what award it won. I’m guessing it won the “ugly truth about Hollywood” award.

The film documents (although I would not call this a full fledged documentary) the extraordinary efforts of two pals attempting to sell a screenplay they’ve written. While the film has some interesting qualities, it is mostly an insincere, translucent attempt to draw attention to the authors. In fact, Spencer Rice and Kenny Hotz remind me of two girls going after the same boy at a sixth grade pool party. A lot of whining and hostility. The only thing missing is some hair pulling.

In the beginning, the pair achieve some grins by making telephone calls to big name actors and basically get their asses handed to them on a paper plate. Later they move to the Toronto Independent Film Festival (1996), where people start to take notice of them, simply because they have a camera and “are making a movie”. More ugly truths about the movie business are revealed. They take their craziness to California. More hilarity insues – the end.

It’s not a horrible film, but if you have something better to do – like pulling weeds or something – I’d go do that instead of watching this. To be fair, there was one review on, and it was favorable. If you are interested in selling scripts or the movie business in general – maybe you will enjoy this film. I don’t know. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve disliked something that many other people adore.

An Analysis of All that Is Pt.1

Posted 2 April 2002, 12.39 am by Alexander

This is a reader submission from James. I really enjoyed it, what are your thoughts?

What am I? I am James, a 16-year-old high school student in the United States of America - a resident of Earth, the third planet from a lone, medium-sized star in the center of the Milky Way galaxy. In approximately 5,000,000,000 Earth-years, that star (called 'the Sun] will have depleted its supply of hydrogen and will no longer generate enough energy or pressure to support its own outer layers. As it collapses, its pressure and temperature will then rise until helium begins to fuse into carbon and 'helium burning' begins, radiating so much energy that the Sun expands into a larger form, known to us as a 'Red Giant'. At this point, ignoring time-wasting hypothetical possibilities, any remains of my species and culture will be quickly vaporized and forgotten by the universe as the star that once warmed my planet's beaches reduces it to so much atomic dust.

One discovers...all things are finite - because I will exist for such an insignificant amount of time, as will my planet, I see this event as a grand ending to a long and complicated story, while it is (from a broader point-of-view) only a single wave crashing on the rocks of the universe, which will stand unmoved for time untold. My self-awareness, combined with my ability to rationalize, discover, and create, defines me as an organism . . . but I am not truly defined until I give myself a name.

The question again: What am I?

I am a single, unremarkable specimen of a species known as homo-sapien, or human. My people are the current rulers of a 6.5 zetta-ton rock that hurtles through space in an arc around the catalyst of its future destruction. Short of controlling and altering the dimensions of space and time, a feat beyond even my mere comprehension today, there is nothing I can do in my eye-blink of an existance to make a definitive impression on the universe. I am left to persue happiness in my lifetime by embracing my own self-importance and creating a legacy of actions and creations that will remain with my fellow organisms after I cease to be. But first, a note on how humans got to where they are today . . . That gradual growth leads to the possibility of any human's actions becoming drastically relevent in regard to the uncertain future of the universe.

When my people first began to evolve and create, they were unaware of Earth's unavoidable fate. They competed with the other organisms of our planet for supremacy, as their genes bid them to do; they ate, drank, slept, and reproduced, using natural biological advantages to remain safe from potential predators and dangerous to potential food-sources. Upon the first moment, however, that one of my ancestors raised a blunt object and brought it down upon an opponent, homo-sapiens broke the cycle of Nature and became innovators. Our sentience had advanced in its complexity beyond those traits which we had earned naturally through 'survival of the fittest', and we inherited a planet.

Domination ensued, and the human brain continued to grow. A stick or bone begot a cleverly sharpened edge, which begot a finely crafted knife, which begot a gun, which begot a bomb, which begot a nuclear explosive. The first deviations in our evolutionary trajectory sped up the process and broke the chain of events that 'nature intended' - the newest deviations are far beyond what could ever be considered natural at all. They defy the inherent genetic programming of the beings who created them, as tools that have the potential to destroy all life were borne of organisms whose immediate purpose is simply to live. Somewhere along the line, order was thrown aside, and civilization now teeters on the brink of chaos.

All of human-kind's 'advances' evolve in a similar pattern - forget about weaponry or tools aiding competition and focus on transportation. Rafts and horses begot boats and wagons, which begot steamships and trains, which begot motor boats and automobiles, which begot airplanes, which begot the space shuttle. We began by advancing on what was natural to make the tasks we faced easier - we end in excess, reaching out beyond our planet and exploring the vast space that surrounds it. Even this is not the end of the evolution, however - space travel turns nature on its head, but time travel shatters it completely. Like the development of the nuclear bomb, our likely discovery of time manipulation will make the chaos of modern life even more profound, as it too breaks down the barrier between what is considered a universal truth (the 'circle of life', linear progression of time) and what is possible due to unrestrained human innovation (the self-inflicted destruction of all life, distortion of time as we know it).

Perhaps our view of what is true or false, natural or unnatural, is skewed - there's a chance that we see ourselves as interrupting the natural way of things because our idea of what that design entails remains stunningly primitive. The human habit of defining everything in ideas and language translatable to our own lives could have kept us from discovering the secret truths behind the curtain of the physical. We could argue for one side or another until we were blue in the face, but officially, this is where our discussion reaches a stalemate, and I abandon it altogether.

I am no longer a short-lived, anonymous homo-sapien - once again, I am James, and I have roughly sixty years left to live. Without resigning myself to an agonizing exploration of the universe's mysteries or an overly optimistic and self-serving religion, I am left with a pursuit of my personal happiness and final legacy. To continue existing beyond the limited corporeal sense of the word, I have to create something to leave behind for my species to remember or physically posess. A painting, a story, a monument . . . anything. Though it is initially simple, this process is complicated by our society's unwavering exponential progression. We have now at our fingertips technology capable of both duplicating our own physical forms entirely and creating an original being to our specifications . . . and this future ability raises serious questions about our responsibility to that which we create in our lifetime. If we create an artificial lifeform in our own image, we are not abandoning, destroying, or radically altering the role of Nature or God - we are personally assuming it. In the process, we are unconsciously accepting the possibility that as homo-sapiens defied the boundries of nature, our creations could advance beyond our own control and alter the future of our planet and universe in ways we can't begin to fathom.


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They were done for an exhibition a couple of years ago . They asked for something to so with the summer. They are mixed media and oil paint on metal advertising boards - for ice cream.

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Props to Green Mamba for bringing the weirdness


80s candy bars were pretty good

only because i traded it for a candy bar in the 80's.

lol we all know you don't have a soul ghoti

my soul for some carbs...

But of course!


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