Fish Cleavage.JPG

Ugh, Bugs! Stop Falling into my Boobs!

By Figgy | Eloquent Eloquence | July 30, 2009 | Comments ()

By Figgy | Eloquent Eloquence | July 30, 2009 |


Fish Cleavage.JPG

So, did you guys hear? We are now, officially (if a troll says it, it's true) a cabal of evil elitists (maybe. I wasn't paying too much attention) conformed of Dustin's friends (Dustin who?) and we represent everything that is evil about the movie industry. Me! In a cabal! The last time I tried to join they told me that they didn't let foreigners into their circle dances round a midnight fire group and I was depressed for weeks. And now here I am! Part of the cabal! We worship an octopus deity who drives an armored tank. All of our rituals involve alcohol. Some may necessitate the use of Swiffers (Ass(TM) version or otherwise).

We are awesome. We are everything that is wrong with the movie industry. Somehow. He didn't go into details. Trolls never do.

(But I still can't believe that you people don't eat breakfast. The hell? So all of you bastards who post before I've even woken up are doing it fueled on coffee? No fucking wonder. How do you deal with the Pamela Anderson ad without breakfast?! Anyway.)

What better way to celebrate my introduction into a cabal than by taking a vacation from it? Right? Of course right. But, yeah, as I'd mentioned last week I'm taking a trip up to Merkia Land (COMMENCE INVASION) for three weeks. I think I'll be able to take up the halo again the week after next, so never fear. I will return. Meanwhile, next week's EE will be left safely (maybe) in the competent (read: mildly insane, but awesome) hands of the one and only Marra Alane. Don't cross her. She is mean. Even I'm a little scared, but she volunteered, and we celebrate sacrifice in the cabal.

Oh, one more thing before the list. While previous EE winners can't win again, they can get back on the board. But I'll be judging them more harshly, to give the other people a chance. Don't be so greedy, TRACER.


On to the goods:

[First, an extra. An Honorable Mention, if you will. Only because I couldn't fit it anywhere and I didn't want to do another list of 15]:


10.5 * removes horse dong from mouth*
Could this be the Twilight of a once burgeoning film career?
*inserts said dong into anal canal* --Michael Ausiello

[And they say we are what is wrong with the movie industry...Whoever that was, kudos to you.]

10. Looking a little closer at the data, I find it hilarious that "Friends rely on you for your views on ..." is a pretty uniform spread until it gets to the "parenting" category, where it skyrockets to STRONGLY DISAGREE. I don't know about you, but I've found that babies respond well to crate training and a rolled up newspaper when they make boom boom on the rug. Just common sense. --Leigh

[I loved that bit of data so much. I know that a lot of us aren't parents, but still. That's hilarious. I don't know if some of us should be allowed to procreate.]

9. Having a kid in the house, we watch a lot of cartoons. My nominee for the worst names ever -- the Berenstein Bears. When Papa bear and Mama bear call their kids "Brother" and "Sister," it makes them sound like some insanely inbred family where your mother _is_ your sister and so is grandma. --True_Blue

[I loved that thread. There were a lot of opinions re: best names, but I think the majority agreed that "Count Dooku" is the worst character name in the history of movies. Fuck you, George Lucas. Look at what you did to Christopher Lee, you bastard.]

8. Tracer, you bastard, you made me laugh. In fact, you made me laugh so hard I had a coughing fit. This lead to the violent regurgitation of a half-digested cold-and-flu tablet, which smacked my cat in the side of the head. Turns out, he really doesn't like being woken up by ballistic Sudafed. He's hiding upstairs now. I think he might be trying to summon Satan on me.

If I get eaten by a hellspawn, I'm holding you responsible. --ScienceGeek

[I think you all know what Tracer comment we're talking about here. Go look. I'm too lazy.]

7. Another conversation between me and my girlfriend:

ME: Hey, rattle off some of your favorite kid's books.
MY GIRLFRIEND: Um...this one, I can't remember what it's called, but it's about...this person thinking of sad things to make tea.
ME: ...What?
MY GIRLFRIEND: (googles) Tear-water tea, that's it.

And she reads me this little story about an owl who thinks of sad things so he can fill his teapot with tears. Things like "chairs with broken legs...songs that cannot be sung because the words have been forgotten...books that cannot be read because some of the pages have been torn out...spoons that have fallen behind the stove..."

ME: ...what the hell?

MY GIRLFRIEND: You know, there's an entire school of philosophy that comes from that poem about whether a spoon is still a spoon if it's fallen behind the stove and never seen again.

ME: ...what the HELL?

MY GIRLFRIEND: Ugh, bugs! Stop falling into my boobs!

Thank God that happened. Kept me from crying. --Jim Doggie

[I love the conversations between Jim Doggie and his girlfriend. They sound like an indie movie. Second time on the list, that means true love forevah!]

[And now, my two favorites from the "I'd Rather" Comment Diversion...]

6. I'd rather be stalked by a crazed serial killer who wanted to teach me a valuable lesson through a series of inescapable and disfiguring traps in real life. --Zooby

I'd rather repeatedly slam my testicles in a desk drawer.

I'd rather willingly let a jellyfish sting my tongue and then have a syphillitic hobo piss on it to neutralise the sting.

I'd rather go back in time to about four years ago, when my relationship with a particularly psychotic girlfriend was gradually becoming more and more unbearable, yet I was still doing my absolute best to hold it together because my self-esteem had been crushed to the point where I thought that this was my last chance at human companionship, and I ended up sitting in a sticky-floored cinema watching Gerard Butler in The Phantom of the Fucking Opera.

I'd rather go even further back in time to when I was eight, in Orange Class at my primary school, and I was reading a section from one of those early reading-type books, standing before a class of fellow schoolkids sitting cross-legged on the floor, earnestly reading my chapter about a spotted dog chasing a big-ass ball or some other bullshit, and then Steven Rock decided, out of nowhere, to pants me in front of everyone - and the teacher, that bitch Mrs. Crunden, rahter than disciplining the little bastard, fucking laughed as I stood there, winkle dangling in the wind, too mortified to even move.

I'd rather... *reviews previous offerings*...

I think I've said too much. --Dill The Devil

[Brits are so weird.]

5. I refuse to suspend disbelief to accept that all the members of an online guild live in the same city. Generally it's unusual if all of them are in the same hemisphere.
Not saying they couldn't get together, but it would require a guarantee of alcohol and/or group sex. --Neodiogenes

You've heard of Pajibacon, right? And your point is? --PaddyDog

Pajibacon -- from what I've read of it, at least -- apparently proves my point.
It's not an assembly of online game nerds -- it's a congealed sodden mashup of alcoholic wordsmiths (is that redundant?) gathering for, apparently, the mass consumption of yet more alcohol and mutual snarking to the choir. The group sex is not explicitly stated but is strongly implied. If there are nerds involved, it's incidental to the aforementioned alcohol and sex. Basically it's like a meatpacker's convention with ostensible cleverness instead of meat. And fewer prostitutes. Or is that an unwarranted assumption? --Neodiogenes

[I think that's...freakishly accurate. Anyone up for Texasbacon in August? BOO-YAH!]

4. I miss being able to so freely access my imagination the way i could when i was young and had no trouble flipping the switch from boring real world to imaginary world of monsters or mayhem or fluffy bunnies that sang in french or whatever i was daydreaming at the time.

Imagine if you were still like that? Take it from one who knows, it sucks. Like when you're sitting in rush hour traffic and imagine all the cars are telepathically flying out of your way so you accidentally drive forward a little and rear end the fucking BMW in front of you because the suburbanites of Atlanta think they have to pretend they have money. Or when your girlfriend at the time (note: at the time) has been talking to you for the last 20 minutes spilling her guts out and after about 3 you started daydreaming that you were actually fighting a zombie horde outside of your house at that very moment. It could happen right after you watch a movie, like, say The Fast and The Furious and you leave the theatre doing 90 in a 45. Maybe you just watched another vampire movie and figured you would see how hard it would take to bite your significant other to the point of drawing blood. Sometimes, having an overactive imagination just sucks. --Deistbrawler

[Whenever I'm stuck waiting somewhere my brain goes into overdrive imagining a hostage situation and how I would manage to be the hero and save us all. Either that or Batman comes to rescue us and then we make out.]

3. This looks like a pile of unmitigated shit. Did you wake up with a rainbow up your ass this morning or does fondness for Say Anything and High Fidelity cause one to become a John Cusack apologist? Aside from the vagina, I AM this movie's target audience (in my early 20's, Daily Show devotee, frequently curses and enjoys a bit of the absurd in my humor) and I wouldn't get near this movie if someone paid me.

Seriously, Hot Tub Time Machine? Why not just call it Do You Love It's Always Sunny In the Office At 30 Rock Fidelity Show? Than You'll Love This!. --Genny (actually Rusty now)

[*cackles*. I love when Genny gets angry. It makes me happy in the pants.]

2. Mr. Morton, thank you for this interesting post. I've not seen The Way of the Gun. I enjoyed reading this piece, and I will probably watch the movie at some point.
And now, I'd like to say something to the recent smattering of commenters saying things like, "Pajiba sucks now the quality of the writing has gone way downhill don't you guys ever talk about movies any more all the commenters suck and they're an elite little club" and so on and so forth:

There are still good pieces of writing about movies (and other forms of pop culture/entertainment) being posted on Pajiba. For example, they've brought in this Drew Morton guy, who might actually know something about film, to class up the joint. You may not agree with his opinion of this (or any) particular movie, but at least he is able to articulate what he did and did not like about it, and provide some worthy material for a discussion.

But these more "serious" posts don't usually get a lot of comments. Hmmm... strange and mysterious! Where are all these gripers from other threads? Here is a place to talk about the merits of a movie, without any gossiping about the actors or cursing the Hollywood machine for its endless remakes. Instead of going to other posts and saying, "This place sucks!", come to this post and make it the lively exchange of serious ideas you seem to think Pajiba is lacking.

If you think the Pajiba Love links are all gossip and trash, don't click on them. If you think the Random Lists are stupid excuses to devolve into crazy sexytime talk, ignore them. If you think the Eloquent Eloquence is snobby and elitist, don't read it and then you won't even know that you aren't on the list this week.

But don't say, "There's nothing good on Pajiba," and ignore the stuff on here that is great.

/rant about threads you're not reading on a thread you're not reading -- MM

[See, people? See? You don't need to mention sex or Ass Swiffers in your comments. Eloquence this beautiful is rewarded. Jeebus. That was glorious. I hope everyone reads it, specially the whiners. I am shining a beacon onto it. And it was so very close to winning. But then there was this...]

1. So, what you're saying is marketing departments suck? Not surprising given that they're populated by alien-rejects from the galactic equivalent of suburban Jersey strip-mall staff. The cool ailens make online video sites.

/Rant=On

Trailers, "buzz" and the so-aptly-named "viral marketing" are all about making the movie seem like what these bad, alien anthropologists think you want. (Viral? What's good about a virus? Unless it makes zombies, shot in a gray-wash of awesome.) And they're desperate to make a go of it here on the blue-green marble of hell, their extra-terrestrial last-chance Texaco. It's bait-and-switch, and we're the bait and the mark in this particular midway.

So, yeah. Trailers suck. And there's no law that says a trailer has to represent the film it's for, really. As the mutant-invaders slowly figure this out, every trailer will be full of Fox-boobies, 'splodey robots and sparkley emo-vamps. Next View-Askew production? 'Splodey robot-boobs sparkling in the trailer. Next period piece? Trailer full of sparkley robot-boobs exploding.

But I've heard that in the bowels of the Interwebs there's a secretive, subversive place where you can get reviews from people with a love of the craft who are also actually interested in the experience of watching any particular movie. These people live a life of big-T Truth as They Find it.

It is said that it is a hidden, guarded place known to only a few. Even for those who pass the gates it is a violent place, full of scathing atmosphere and vitriol. Suffering fools not at all. Within, the warriors challenge even each other, calling bullshit, mocking the shallow, and ripping bad grammar and internet-FAIL even among themselves. None return from that place, and no one knows why some are drawn to try to go there.

Yet, the legend won't die. Each season, some few declare: "If this is your world, you are welcome to it. I may be seeking a fantasy, a legend that never was, but it is a far, far better thing I seek than you will ever know. You mindless toads, suckling at the IMAX-Teat of sparkley, 'splodey robot-boobs herded to your pop-culture injection by hucksters wielding i-Prods. If I go to wander ever seeking never finding, a place of intelligence and standards, happily, willingly I go better for the quest than you will ever know. Because you, you eat what the marketeers serve up and call it caviar.

These misfits are never heard from again. But sometimes, a small meme careens through the Intertubes. A distant ranting overheard by chance, full of bile, and love, demanding that things be better because they can.

So, yes, Virginia, there are marketeers in the world, full of flaccid not much. Drink deep your fill of emo-'splodey robot-boobs, and dead rainbows passing for slice of life.

But if you are strong enough, there is a land better than this, a place where a flackified trailer is dismissed with the Bah! it deserves. Or dismissed with more words, really forged only for the enjoyment of the special misfit race that lives there. That place is called Pajiba. -- BierceAmbrose

*****

Holy Godtopus on a cheese and chive cracker. That. That right there. That's what the Eloquent Eloquence is all about. It's angry, it's passionate, it's funny, it's smart and fuck, it's so Pajiba. It should be our new charter, for crying out loud. I...just...I'm speechless.

Bierce, you are fan-fucking-tastic, my friend. Congratulations. I don't even have that much else to say. I can't even begin to think of a DVD good enough to give you. Because your comment was so outstanding, I'm gonna let you pick. Anything under $20. Well, almost anything. If you know what I mean. E-mail your choice and info to dustin at pajiba dot com and let us know in the comments what your pick was.

And before I go, anyone want to take a crack at organizing a mini Texasbacon sometime in August? Get crackin. Facebook group is your oyster. Enjoy me while you have me, people.

See you in two weeks!

Figgy lives and rages in the mad urban jungles of Honduras. Check out her blog for somewhat incoherent updates on the Honduran situation, Cannonball Read book reviews and the occasional pictures of hot men.



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Pajiba Love 07/30/09 | The Fantastic Mr. Fox Trailer




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