How to make "King Kong" without a budget and why you shouldn't do it...

So, I was cleaning up my place the other day and decided I'd need something running in the background. I went through my collection of DVDs (the "shitload of bad films" I mentioned in a previous post) and popped one in that sounded at least kind of entertaining, a film that went by the name of "SWAT: Warhead One".

The teaser was already pretty terrible. It tried to explain the entire exposition of the plot through awkward cutting and pretty pathetic subtitles that didn't even make any real sense. Apparently, the film is about a nuclear warhead that got stolen by Russian criminals after the fall of the Soviet Union and was bought by a Chinese mafioso in LA several years later.

What is funny about this plot is that the rest of the film doesn't have anything to do with it, because the Chinese guy later threatens to blow up a hospital for no apparent reason. Literally, the only character motivation he gets is, and I quote: "I'm the bad guy!" He actually says that in the film! Goddamnit.

Moreover, the movie is racist because the bad guy is Chinese, his right hand is black and all the SWAT members are white. There is also a guy in the film with an atrociously fake Russian accent and disturbing eyeliner makeup.

Apart from that, the whole film is boring as hell, and I didn't even pay attention to it most of the time because I found sorting notes and tidying my desk much more interesting. However, one question stuck with me... "where do these films come from?"

So I got the DVD out after this borefest ended with a pathetic attempt of a plot twist and typed the name of the film studio - Cine Excel - in a search engine... and I found the studio's website. And what is even better, they actually have trailers of some of their movies on that site.

So first, to prove to you that I'm not lying, here is the trailer to the movie I watched:



Even the "I'm the bad guy" line is in. Unbelievable.

Anyway, I checked the website a bit more extensively and had a look at the list of films, which are presented there with their promotional posters. Behold these works of art...





A few of the posters caught my particular attention. The first one was this incredibly well-done work that would never arouse the suspicion of being a photo montage:



I checked out the trailer, and seriously, I never thought you could make a boring trailer for an action movie. It is literally two minutes of people punching each other, and four words of plot exposition: "You killed my family!" And then comes the next punch.



And they're serious about it!

Then, there is one trailer that should make you think of another movie. In every bloody detail, that is.



You're right. That is basically King Kong except it has no budget, takes place in San Francisco, has the Abominable Snowman instead of a forty-foot gorilla and is shit. And did the girl actually call him "Snowy"? Oh boy.

However, that isn't the worst the site has to offer. No, not even remotely. I didn't check out all the trailers, but I am convinced that the following one takes the prize. I can't find any words to describe it, so just watch it...



Help! I don't want this movie to exist! :( Why are they doing this? And why won't they stop?

Youtube finds

I have a sort of love-hate relationship with Youtube. On the one hand, I hate it when people keep spamming me with Youtube links on instant messenger programs... in fact, thanks to this I hardly ever use them anymore. I also don't know if I like the fact that the first thing some people do when they come over to my place is that they occupy the computer and show some random Youtube clips, typically obscure, half-forgotten pop culture clips from the darker realms of the nineties.

On the other hand, there is indeed much great stuff to be found there. It is a great place to check out new music, old video clips and if you're lucky, you stumble into a time frame when good movies have been uploaded and not yet deleted again. I have spent many an hour on Youtube myself, and will probably continue to do so in the future. I don't know how often I'll do this, but right now, I feel like posting some clips here.

I love Immortal, and it looks like they are slowly emerging to one of my favourite bands. Their vision of a world without warmth and light fascinates me, and their brilliant musicianship always captivates me. Granted, their image is a bit awkward -although unique- and I guess we all know those incredibly lame "Black Metal Panda" jokes. Nevertheless, they do appear a bit dodgy on their video clips, and sometimes, I'm not sure if they're joking or serious about it. Anyway, the following clip... I don't know if I think it's great or if I think it's ridiculous. It seems like treading a fine line while drunk, but I'm not sure which side they fall on. Although I have to say I really like the last thirty seconds or so. Note that Immortal not only live in a world of cold and darkness, but apparently also one in which lightning bolts provide unlimited electricity, so their guitars don't even need to be plugged in.

Also, they seem to be rather fond of hiking in the woods. All that is missing is a picnic basket and Yogi Bear:

The above video is obviously tongue-in-cheek (stupid wizard hat...), but somebody managed to edit it down to a third of its length and take all the humour out of it.

That's all for now, I guess.

The Visitors. A catastrophe in three acts.

Dramatis Personae:

P: Me
PN: P's neighbour, an old man of 88 years.
M: P's best friend
MGF: M's girlfriend
PB: P's brother
Emergency rescuers and various mates of P's.

Act 1
Int.: P's bedroom. Night. P is fast asleep and dreams of werewolves, amazons and heavy metal.

PN: (from off) Help! Help! Help!

P wakes up and starts to realize the situation as the cries for help continue. He gets up, puts on the light and after a moment of groggy consideration dials the emergency number.

P: Hello, I am hearing cries for help from next door. My neighbour is an old man. I live at 1, Easter Bunny Street. That's in Misery Borough.

P wanders up and down the place for five minutes until police, firemen and emergency doctors arrive. They chop PN's door open with an axe. All the while, the cries for help continue. Finally, the rescuers get in, spend some time in PN's flat. Then they come out again.

P: So, what happened?
Rescuers: He had a bad dream.

Off.

Act 2, Scene 1
Int.: P's flat. Day. The phone rings. P answers it. It's M.

M: I wanted to come over to your place next weekend.
P: Great! We haven't seen each other in, what, a year?
M: Yeah, pretty much. I'll be bringing MGF along.
P: Cool, I'd love to meet her. See you next weekend then!

Act 2, Scene 2
Int.: P's flat. Evening. The doorbell rings. P opens the door. Enter M and MGF.

P: Hey, great to see you M! Pleased to meet you, MGF! How was the trip?
M: Pretty long, we had to take long breaks and there were jams all the way.
P: Wanna eat something?
M and MGF: No, we're stuffed.
P: Alright, then make yourselves at home. I haven't got anything to eat or drink here right now, so we're gonna have to do some shopping. But no haste, the supermarket is open till ten, and then we can still go to the one open till one AM.
MGF: Woah, supermarkets that are open till ten? What place is this?
P: Berlin, capital and largest city of Germany. Ever been here before?
MGF: Uh, yeah, with my school.
P: Anything in particular you'd like to see here?
MGF: Yeah, the zoo. And that place I was at with my school, it had carousels and people on fire.
P: Uh... yeah... no clue what that is.
MGF: And then there was this place with all the stones.
P: Place with all the stones?
MGF: Yeah, they go up and down and up and down.
P: Sounds like the Holocaust Memorial. I can take you there tomorrow. I've got to go to the area anyway, since that's where the library is and I need to pick up a book. Alright, shall we go and do the groceries now?

They leave for the supermarket. They get breakfast stuff and drinks. They return to P's flat. About an hour has passed now.

MGF: I'm hungry.
M: Yeah, and we need beer.
P: OK, so let's get down to the Kebab place. MGF can get something to eat and we can get beer.

Off.

Act 2, Scene 3.
Ext.: Berlin. The next day. P, M and MGF walk around.

P: Here's the zoo. So you're gonna be alright by yourself in there?
MGF: Yeah, sure I will. You two go eat your currywurst. I'm gonna see the elephants.

She goes in, M pays the 12 Euros for the ticket. P and M head for the best currywurst takeout in the world. It has a special 50th anniversary offer. They eat a currywurst and want to head for a record store. M's cellphone rings. He answers.

M: Yes? You're finished already? But it's only been an hour. Oh... OK. Alright. We'll pick you up.
P: Don't tell me she is done with the zoo after an hour. It takes me one hour to go from one end to the other without even looking at an animal. Heck, I could spend half an hour looking at the damn monkeys.
M: I'm fucking tired of her.

Off.

Act 2, Scene 4.
Ext.: Berlin. Evening. P, M, MGF and PB walk around. They pass the Brandenburg Gate, which just so happens to be the most famous landmark of Germany and shrine of European democracy. P, M and PB glance at it in awe despite having seen it about a zillion times.

MGF: Oooh, bicycle taxis! I wanna sit in one of those!
PB: Uh, you noticed that gate behind you?
MGF: I wanna sit in a bicycle taxi! Anyway, where's that dome?
P: You mean the Reichstag? There. (He points to the Reichstag building, a mere hundred metres away)
MGF: I wanna go up there!
M: (whispering to P) I'm so fucking tired of that thing. We've been up there every single time I've been in Berlin so far. I can't see it anymore.

They head up to the Reichstag dome anyway. Then they go have a burger.

P: So, what are we gonna do tonight?
PB: I'm off, I gotta sleep.
M: I'd like to party.
P: Yeah, there's a party at a place I've never been to so far. Let's head there.
M: Cool.
MGF: I'm gonna stay home and watch TV.
P: Are you sure you're alright with that?
MGF: Yes, no problem at all.
P: Sure?
MGF: Yes, you just go.

Off.

Act 2, Scene 5.
Int.: A club, with various people, including mates of P's. Enter M and P.

M: ...and then she always accuses me of not paying enough attention to her when I want to listen to music for half an hour. And she always sits there on her fat arse and watches talkshows on TV.
P: OK, let's just forget about her for a few hours. This place looks fine.

They head for the bar, get some beers and start enjoying their time. After a mere half hour M's cellphone rings.

M: It's MGF. She thinks she's hearing noises. We gotta go.

They head for P's place all the while arguing about what MGF could have heard. They come home and see PN's door open.

PN: This looks like my place but it isn't. I don't know how I got here. Where am I? What is this?
P: OK, I can tell you this is your place. It's all right. You just go to your bed, I'll watch out in case somebody is outside.
PN: Yes?
P: Yes. Now you have a good night.

P closes the door. They go get some beers and watch a horror film and then go to bed.

Act 3, Scene 1.
Int.: P's flat. Day. P and M alone.

M: It's great that PB is showing MGF around. At least we have a few hours for ourselves now.
P: Indeed. How about this: We go out and eat something and then head for the record store?
M: Brilliant idea.

Off.

Act 3, Scene 2.
Int.: An underground train. Night. P's and M's cellphones ring simultaneously. They both answer.

P: Hey PB.
M: Hey MGF.
P: Yes, OK, you're done. We'll meet there. Fine.

P and M are pissed off. They get out the underground and proceed to wait in the glaring sun for one hour until PB and MGF finally arrive. They nevertheless proceed to eat and go to the record store, despite MGF's objections.

Act 3, Scene 3.
Int.: A flat of P's mates. A party. Night.

M: Now that MGF knows she can safely ignore the noises made by PN, she will be quiet and just watch TV.
P: (jokingly) I wouldn't know. I'd take any bet that she'll call the moment we start enjoying ourselves.
M: You know, she wanted to play hide and seek at the Holocaust memorial with me. I had to explain to her what the Holocaust was, without melting her brain by using the word "concentration camp".

The party proceeds slowly, but steadily, and finally, they start having fun.

PM: I can see your point about Neo-Platonic ideas in the lyrics to Hail and Kill by Manowar.
P: I have always likened Manowar to be more in the vein of Marcus Aurelius, though.
PM: Stoic? Nah.
P: What? If Fighting the World isn't stoic, then what is?
PM: You may be right.

M's cellphone rings.

M: You were right. She's hearing sounds. We have to go.
P: Break up with her. Sorry to be so harsh.
M: No, I'm glad somebody finally says it.

Off.

Act 3, Scene 4.
Int.: P's flat. Night. P and M talk about politics, while MGF watches TV. Eventually, somebody knocks on the door. P opens. He sees PN in his flat, the door is open.

PN: The sewing machine. It moved!

END.

Every word is a quote. It all happened exactly the way I put it there. You can't make shit like this up.

Killing fruit flies ist Krieg.

Once again it happened. I'm busy and spend very little time at home, and even less in the kitchen. So I forgot that I had left a plate with tomato sauce in the sink. And perhaps there was an apple core in the trash can. Anyway, there is a massive population of fruit flies in my kitchen now.

This sort of thing happens. It sucks when it happens, but it's not the end of the world. It's happened to me three times since I live in my flat, and it never lasted longer than a week. That's because I am a merciless butcher when it comes to fruit flies. Seriously, my kitchen is a death camp for fruit flies, no matter how tasteless that sounds: It's true. I have no remorse on them.

There are of course simple and effective ways of dealing with them. The classic is having a bowl of water and vinegar along with some washing-up liquid, two or three drops, no more. To the flies, it's a weapon that would put Saddam to shame.

Nevertheless, it takes a while, and you have to renew it every two days, with the effect that my kitchen smells like vinegar. I hate the smell of vinegar, and I can't open my window at the moment. So I wanted to try something new out, something that does not smell as bad and perhaps gets even more at one go. Last time I had created a true WMD, but I had to clean the stove extensively afterward, and I don't feel like doing that again.

So I checked the internet, the wise and all-knowing encyclopaedia that gives us such great information all the time and never lets us down on some tips. For convenience, I looked it up in German. You know, German, the language spoken by Germans. The Germans, who started two world wars and did the Holocaust.

I stumbled on a page which had the same I tip I described above. I checked the comments at the bottom of the page, and one bloke wrote that he does not like that tip because it kills the fruit flies.

I had to re-read that again, and he actually wrote it. He had compassion with the flies.

The flies wouldn't even live without him. They don't need to live because your kitchen is not (supposed to be) an ecosystem. In fact, they are not even good for you. They can actually harm you. It is in your own interest to get rid of these damn beasts as soon as possible.

I wanted to write more, but my day at work is over. Anyway, what I mean to say is, some people go too far with this "I'm a good person" thing.

Thursday Night. A tragedy in three acts.

So this is what happened last night.

Dramatis Personae
P: Me
PM1: A mate of P's (female)
PM2: Another mate of P's (male)
BT: Bar tender

Act 1, Scene 1
P is on his way home from work. The phone rings. P answers.

P: 'ello?
PM1: Hey, we're in the park enjoying the evening. Wanna join?
P: Yeah, I just gotta get home first to get rid of my stuff. I'll meet you in an hour.
PM1: Sure thing!

Act 1, Scene 2
P returns home, gets rid of his stuff and goes to the park. Here, he meets PM1 and PM2. PM1 is drunk, PM2 is tipsy.

PM1: Great you could make it, P! Want a prune?
P: Uh, sure.
PM2: We thought about heading to that pub now that it's getting dark.
P: OK, I just can't stay very long because I've got to go to work tomorrow.
PM2: No prob, we all have to get up early.
P: Alright then!
PM1: I'm so happy you could make it, P! Want a prune?
P: No thanks, I just had one.

Act 2
Two train stations later, PM1 and PM2 need to get some cash from the bank. PM2 heads for the cash machine, gets the cash and returns. PM1 heads for the cash machine and does not return. Meanwhile, a rugged Turkish man passes by with five children following him.

PM2: So many hungry mouths!

They start singing In the Ghetto by Elvis. Finally, PM1 returns and they go out.

PM1: Hey P, can you lend me five Euros? The machine ate my bank card, I have no idea why. Could be because I didn't remember my PIN though.
P: Sure thing.
PM1: Thanks! It's so great you could make it! (Hugs P)

Act 3, Scene 1
They enter the pub and sit down. After a while of consideration, PM1 and PM2 order a beer, P has a Scotch.

PM1: I'm so happy you could make it. (Kisses P)
P: Yeah, so am I.

They listen a while to the music playing, Death Magnetic.

PM2: Crap album.
P: Well, it's not that bad, only the songs are all twice as long as they should be.
PM1: And the production sucks!

They proceed to head bang nevertheless.

P: It gets pretty boring after a while though.
PM1: Yeah! They should put on something different. (Reading from P's t-shirt) Like Iced Earth! Or Exodus. I'm gonna ask if they have Exodus here.

She heads for the bar and returns. A few minutes later, BT comes to the table and talks to PM1.

BT: We don't have Exodus here unfortunately.
PM1: I want Exodus!
BT: Look, we don't have Exodus on the computer. You just come back to the bar when you think of something else, right? (Off)
PM1: I want Exodus!
PM2: They don't have Exodus.
PM1: What did BT want here anyway?
P: She told you they don't have Exodus and you should come up with something else she can play?
PM1: Huh?
PM2: They don't have Exodus.
PM1: I want Exodus!

PM1 gets up, heads for the bar and talks to BT for about five minutes. Then she returns.

PM1: Stupid bitch!
P: What's the matter?
PM1: I wanted Exodus, but they don't have Exodus. So I asked them for Pantera, which they didn't have either. And she didn't want to play Maiden. So I asked them for Slayer, and she said she's gonna put them on. Stupid bitch!!!
P: But Slayer isn't half bad...

Cue: Slayer, Reign in Blood (Album) P, PM1 and PM2 start to head bang.

PM2: Angel of Death is one of those songs where you should turn your brain off when you sing along to the lyrics.
PM1: It's so great you could make it! (Hugs P)
P: Yeah, Piece by Piece is a great cuddling song. Odd I never noticed that before.

This goes on for a while until the album is near-over.

PM1: I gotta go home. I'm drunk. I'm so sorry I'm drunk.

They go.

Act 3, Scene 2
They head for the train station.

PM1: I'm drunk, I'm so sorry. It's so great you could make it, P! I'm so drunk. I'm so sorry about that. What's that, is that supposed to be a door? Oh, I'm so drunk. And I even lost my bank card. I'm so sorry. But it's so great you could make it, P!
P: Yeah, it's great that I could. Now you don't worry about being drunk and just take care of yourself, right? See you on Saturday.
PM1: Yeah, see you on Saturday, my sweetie.

(All off)

Epilogue
The next day at work, P gets a phone call from PM1.

P: 'ello?
PM1: Hey P, what bank were we at again yesterday?

Information irritation

Is it just me or do people just like to discuss without reason? And could it be that information is not a blessing, but a curse?

The other day, I was at a Leonard Cohen concert. In case you are unfamiliar with him, he is an old singer/songwriter who is in his seventies now and makes pretty calm but good music. It's not the kind of gig where you rush to the front and go crazy, but where you sit back and listen to the music. I don't think there would ever be a moshpit to "Who by Fire" (although I have seen weirder things happen).
Anyway, it was seating only, and each seat was numbered. The ticket gave information about what block your seat is in (in case you were seated in the stands), and the numbers of your seat and the row it was in. If you have ever been to a stadium, you know it. Big signs displaying the number of each block, little numbers at the end of each row and a small number on the back of your seat. And just to make sure, there are people at the gates -each gate leads to two adjacent blocks- telling you which side your block is on. It is literally idiot-proof.
So I had a seat in the stands, and I found it immediately with no problem. Get in on the right side, have a short glance which way the row numbers go and there you are. No problem. And yet, some people are even too stupid for that. So when the gig started, there were two people standing next to the row in front of me, staring at the row number, at the seats (which were taken), and at their tickets. They literally stood there for minutes looking around not knowing what to do. Only after they were nearly panicking, they asked the people who were sitting in what they thought were their seats about it, and they had no clue either. After another few minutes had passed, a security person came to them, and explained that they were simply in the wrong block, and they just needed to go to the neighbouring one. They still did not seem to understand the concept, but went as the security led them. Case solved? Of course not, because now the people in the seats were irritated and started discussing for no apparent reason. First two songs spoiled because people just couldn't think to save their lives.

Today, there was a problem with the metro. My town has two metro railways, an underground one and an overhead one. The underground is called "U-Bahn", the overhead one "S-Bahn". They are administered separately, but use the same fees and so on. But they look completely different, and it is pretty hard to mix them up, because one is underground and one is overhead. It's really not difficult.
The "S-Bahn" is currently in a crisis and pulled a great number of their trains out of traffic to repair them. It's annoying, the schedule is f'cked up, but it's not too hard to deal with it. For commuter convenience, the "U-Bahn" stations have notifications everywhere saying that the "S-Bahn" is currently not operating properly. It's a good service, not strictly necessary, but still not bad to have.
This morning, in addition to the "S-Bahn", there was also a delay in the "U-Bahn" for unknown reasons. The electronic signs in the "U-Bahn" station notified commuters about that, in addition to the information about the "S-Bahn" delays. I.e. two delay notifications on one sign that don't have to do with each other, especially because it specifically said which was which. It was top-notch information, nothing more to ask for. And yet I overheard two women discussing about what it meant, how these two bits of information go together, and if they accidentally went into the "S-Bahn" station. They did not even think about considering that they were two separate pieces of information that just happened to be displayed at the same time.

There should be less information published, so some people's blatant stupidity is not exposed.

Damn Commies.

Okay, so this does it.

The other day, I sat in a boring lecture trying not to fall asleep, when the professor said something like "blablabla, and therefore there are not only negroes in Ethiopia, blablabla".

I admit that I listened up for that instance, and that I would not have used that word. However, it was obvious that from the start, this prof, a semitologist mind you, did not use this word with discriminatory intent, but simply because he grew up with it and his mind slipped for a moment. I remember that some of my teachers, red to the bone, used that word too, without discriminatory intent or effect (since there were no blacks either in my school class, nor in this lecture).

BUT, one student, a white girl, interrupted the professor, saying: "Did you just say negro?"

The prof was perplexed and didn't even remember doing so. The girl stormed out, not before rudely asking another student to give her the attendance sheet at once. Several days later, the website of the student assembly, a lair of red f'ing communists -and I am not exaggarating to the slightest, even their logo has a red star on it- had a news item about "racist remarks in a lecture", however not even quoting it because "it would keep its discriminatory effect even when paraphrased". The page went on for three or four paragraphs of incredibly boring babble and really didn't say anything at all.

The week after that, I was in the same lecture again, only this time, a group of students from the assembly had gathered up front and said that this would not be an ordinary lecture but a necessary discussion about racism. It was obviously an attempt at a trial, and I had none of that. I packed my stuff, said good-bye to my friends and got out, slamming my door on the way, rather loudly as I was later told.

Somewhere along my way out, a bloke gave me a leaflet which had hammer and sickle on it. I asked him what that was about. He said: "We're Communists". I gave him the leaflet back and passed him. He laughed stupidly.

And, since it's apparently Commie weeks, a day later, there was a stand which said: "Save China, Vietnam, Cuba and North Korea from Capitalism". I read it out to a friend of mine and couldn't help laughing. One of those guys said: "Communism is better than this capitalist system." I replied with: "Really? This system allows you to say such bullshit."

I didn't catch his reply, and I didn't care. What the hell is wrong with people?