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Wednesday, May 25, 2005I saw Star Wars Episode Three: The Sith Hits the Fan last Thursday. I liked it a lot. Apparently Hayden Christianson took some acting lessons during the past few years, and was pretty charismatic. By the end, I was hoping he'd get to rip crap up as physically whole, pre- beekeeper suit Vader for a couple hours. Then Obi Wan had to Ruin It For Everyone, as the old SNL sketch goes. (It would have been a much better ending had Obi Wan knocked Anakin off a cliff and thought he killed him. As it is, not only does he leave a Sith Apprentice alive, but leaves his best friend writhing in agonizing pain.) I really liked the crazy dinosaurs, and combined with robots and Star Wars, it was some sort of childhood fantasy come true. If only there were ninjas and pirates, it would have been the coolest thing ever. Kinda like this classic. My favorite part was the justification of the midichlorians bullshit that ruined Episode I for me. In the Opera House, Palpatine intmates that he was the apprentice who killed that Sith master who could manipulate the Force to create life. Given how Palp has played everyone for the past decade and become a father figure to Anakin, it sounds like he might have screwed with the midichlorians to create him to be his successor. The worst part ocurred a few days after seeing the film, when I realized how effed-up the first two films were. Had Sith, excluding the last ten minutes, been Episode 2, it would have been awesome. Episode 3 would have been Vader establishing the Empire, ending with his showdown with Obi Wan, and with a hiding Padme having kids. As it was, Episode 1 was some unintelligible invasion by the Trade Council, and Episode 2 a too-convenient finding of a random Clone Army that nobody seemed to be suspicious of. And why the heck was Jango Fett even on Camino, and why did he have to fight Obi Wan? It's not like he did anything wrong. He only gave a DNA sample ten years ago to some Jedi guy; then he's suddenly EVIL and hangs out with the bee-people and shoots wrist fire at Mace Windu. The strength of the original trilogy was how it began in the middle of the story. It was intentionally like a Saturday Serial where most of the audience hadn't seen the preceding episode; this made the universe seem larger and more mysterious. Had Lucas started Episode I in the middle of a civil war with Count Dooku riling people up, it would have been much better. Then Darth Maul could have shown up, and the somewhat justifiable conflict would shift to a power struggle involving fascism and the Dark Side and stuff. As it is, the prequel trilogy seemed flat, and only the last half hour of Clones plus Sith are worthy successors to the original trilogy. Maybe they'll take Hayden and Natalie into a sound booth and record new dialogue for Episode 2 Special Edition. Or, I could take a long pull from my Darth Vader Head 7-11 Purple Slurpee (mixed with a few belts of Dewars Scotch) and look at compromising pictures of Queen Amidala. Mmmm. Yeah, I think I'll do that.  posted by Nate on 12:55 AM link Monday, May 23, 2005INTERNET PR0N VISITS SWANKYPIMP.COM!!! Please Note: I am NOT making this story up. I left work at one o'clock Friday and went to Detroit to see a Tigers game and Saturday's WNBA Season Opener. (Seriously. Those gals can play, and you can get in the arena for six bucks. That, and I have a huge crush on Ruth Riley. Because she's tall, or something.) I spent Friday night a couple miles away in Windsor, Ontario, Canada, partaking of legalized gambling and Cuban cigars. I spent the night in some dingy dive motel for about (aboot?) fifty buck, U.S. When I check in, I cannot get a non-smoking room because, the Indian proprietor explained, he has special guests coming in from Montreal. I'm not sure why someone would make the effort to reserve a room in such a sketchy place, especially since there are several equally sketchy motels a few hundred feet down the road, but I didn't ask any questions. Yet. Around two in the morning I hear a commotion in the parking lot. At first I thought it was some inconsiderate douchebag frat boys having a cigarette. They got quite a bit of enjoyment from using from the word "fucking" as an adjective. I'm not sure how, but they managed to sound sleazy. Half-asleep from driving all-day and a night at Casino Windsor, I didn't think much of it, other than hoping that they'd ingest a healthy dose of shut-the-hell-up. Then a car pulled up. I heard a female voice. She spent a little bit talking in a flirty manner, occasionally interjected by one of the guys indicating that he was so fucking happy to be fucking here with this fucking girl. Fuck. Then she mentioned the word "camera." One of the dudes said something about being comfortable in front of it. I was intrigued. A car door slammed and she drove away The guys started bullshitting in a very loud and obnoxious manner, and one of them said, "what do you think so far, Bruno?" The other: "I wanna fuck Sandy." BING BING BING!!! The buzzer went off in my cranium. There's an Internet porn site (not that I'd know... I only heard of it from pop-up ads, I swear) that features a well-endowned Montreal native called Bruno B. What the Hecks?! Were they shooting a filthy video in the room next door? And why at 3 AM on a Friday night when reasonable people were trying to sleep, instead of on a Wednesday afternoon or something? I was tired, pissed off, and confused at this point. Low-budget Intarweb porno, what hast though wrought?! Twenty minutes later, I had my answer. Another car pulls up. A young lady gets out, and after a minute or so of conversation she is agitated. That quickly graduates to livid. She screams, "I AM NOT YOUR WHORE! I AM NOT YOUR HONEY! YOU... YOU... GAAAAH!" Tires squeal and she races from the parking lot. A couple minutes later, Bruno and his buddies leave. Here's what I think happened. In Windsor, Escort Services are legal. They are registered with the government, and some of them have websites where you can view photos of the girl you will have, um, meaningful conversations with. (Again, not that I'd know anything about this; it's just something I know, having gone to college an hour away.) I think that this film crew rents out a few hotel rooms along this low-budget strip in Windsor and dials the escort services to find "actresses". On a Friday night, when the most expensive, best-looking girls are available for high-roller types. If a girl is interested, they film a short demo tape and get her contact information. If she isn't, she'll tell her escort service, and the word will spread to the other licensed agencies, who will not send anyone to that location. At that point, the boys drive down the road and order a few more ladies. By the end of the weekend, they have several gals to choose from. This is all speculation on my part, but it makes the most sense of what I witnessed. That and the fact that Bruno's guys showed up the following morning. An hour later a decked out tour bus parked in the lot. A portable pr0n studio, maybe. When I checked out, the Motel owner swore by the multi-armed deity statue on the shelf that he didn't know what I was talking about, and that the people the night before had tried to check into the wrong motel. Yes, that's it. Whatever. I still feel a hint of sleaze about me. Maybe I'll take a shower. Again, for the third time in two days. Maybe you don't believe me, but when Sandy performs unspeakable acts on Bruno B's website, you'll know the truth. Thanks again, Internets, for ruining porn for me forever! I ( HEART ) Canada. posted by Nate on 2:37 AM link
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