This is why you are fat.

A great, self explanatory website, with the best use of a full stop I have seen in a while.

On one hand, you will never want to consume bacon (in all it's many, many forms, from taco shell to mayonnaise flavouring) ever again, on the other it makes you question The Truth.
We're told that even minor things like M&S sandwiches and tiramisu are superbad for us, and yet people actually eat the things on this site and don't explode into Mr Creosotesque fireballs of lard, or simply drop dead of a coronary angina within a day.

Yeah, they are fatties though.

"What fresh hell is this?"

...were apparently John Waters' words while making Cry Baby, which was beset by disaster after disaster, from torrential rain to one of the main actors, pornstar Traci Lords, being caught up in a massive scandal when it was revealed she had been underage for basically all her porn career.

Being fidgetty of nature I can't watch a film without simeoultaneously googling it, and one thing I was curious about was what Kim 'Hatchet Face' McGuire looked like without all her makeup. And then whether she was dead or not, as one of the only pictures of her on the net is from www.findadeath.com. (She aint, the guy who runs the site got a fan pic of her and anecdotally linked it into a different actor's obituary, unfortunately with the tag 'www.findadeath.com' stamped right across it, so has inadvertantly sparked off an urban myth that she has died. Well, I assume it is an urban myth, there is no other evidence of her death online)


As Hatchet Face in Cry Baby

With Johnny Depp back in t'day at some sort of premiere I would imagine

Screenshot from 'It Came From Baltimore' the bonus documentary on the DVD which could have saved me a lot of googling.

Other interesting point of note is that when Traci was facing arrest, to make her feel better, the cast and crew all admitted what they had been arrested for in the past. ("Grand Theft Auto!" "White Slavery!" and "Kidnapping! But not really I swear!" were apparently among them, which doesn't seem that comforting to be honest) The young and slightly naive Amy Locane, feeling left out because she hadn't ever been put in the clink, turns to Patti Hearst, (in a cameo role as Traci Lord's mother) and asks 'but you haven't ever been arrested, have you?'

History NOW

Happy Inaugeration bitches...

Can I get a reeeewiiind?

I've just redone my old post on Paris is Burning.

I think you should read.

Quit yo snarking..

I saw this video on a website, where is was (quite rightly) being merrily derided for being one of the shittest music videos ever. Honestly, watch it through, it's bloody terrible.. BUT I have not been able to get the song out my head all week.




Edit: If you watch this video on Youtube it has funny comments that pop up, but it doesn't seem to work when you embed it.

It's quite an interesting story really, Jan Terri worked as a limousine driver to fund recording her music (hence the rather ubiquitous use of the limo in the video) and made a load of terrible cheapo videos to promote them, which she would give out to the snarky media types she chauffered around. These little videos, which featured the Cabbage Patch-esque Terri wandering around bleak cityscapes like a little be-leathered baked potato, were dubbed from VHS to VHS (remember life before DVDs and Youtube?) and passed around media agencies until Ms Terri was something of a cult hit in such circles.

Then one day Marilyn Manson saw them, met Terri, and was so impressed by her sincerity that he hired her to play at his party and even open a show for him. Well, that's what Wikipedia says, I'd like to think that he was genuinely impressed and he wasn't just laughing at her some more, but in any case, she got another album and a greater cult following out of it, so I guess everybody sort of won.

Anyway I genuinely really like it, it's a good little new wave pop song, okay so not exactly in tune and bloody rough around the edges, but a catchy little song indeed.

I also think Jan deserves props for her sheer perseverence and chuzpah to keep doing what she loved, and not letting her looks, her lack of dollar or, let's face it, her slight trouble holding a note, hold her back.

The Rock-afire Explosion - My New Favourite Band

..well, that and the creepiest thing I have seen all year. This might seem a rather glib thing to say on January 2nd, but I happen to be watching a tv show which compiles all the most popular Youtube clips of 2008. So actually I've already seen a pelican eat a pigeon and a dog having a wank. So there.

Aaanyway, from what I can gleam from Youtube and Wikipedia, the Rock-afire Explosion were an animatronic robot band (oh but of course!) that they had installed in lots of Shobiz Pizza Places across the US of A. I feel this demostrates both how seriously Americans take their pizza consumption experience, and how much damn space there is, that they could have a full sized robot band in every joint. And both these things make me jealous.



But yeah, now someone has funked up childhood nightmares, got robots to sing rude songs and put it on Youtube and of course the result is fabulous! There is quite a good Shakira one too you should check out as it includes cheeky inter-puppet banter.

Some places in America still have grimy fluff and latex covered robots to jerk around while you eat and haunt your dreams while you sleep, although with a new rubbish and more basic lineup. This is apparently because of process known as 'concept unification' which is a typically bullshit marketing phrase if ever I heard one, but thankfully one that has a hideous mid 90's video to go with it, which basically seeks to justify why a giant jerky Italian Chef isn't a weird choice of robot to put the kids at ease as they descend into obesity.



You might notice how I now am just linking things, rather than do my usual 'see it HERE'. Think of it as a supremely minor resolution for 2009. Aim small kids, avoid disappointment

Baiting the 'Conservative Mothers Against Sarah Palin' Facebook Group

Because it's as easy peasy lemon squeezy and I like my friends on Facebook telling me I'm funny, like..

Mind you, given the actual true viewpoints of real, living, voting people out there it is also massively depressing.

Hello? Remember Me?

Tsk, this 'real job' malarkay really gets in the way of posting silly pictures and generally being interesting and creative.
Honestly, if you bumped into me today I would probably regail you with fascinating anecdotes about 'this client meeting I had to set up for Mel with like two hours notice *outraged look*, but like, then Rich had a clash with the HPI debrief *exaggerated wince* so I had to beg to Lou...'

Yeah, I'm a boring git.

BUT, it won't be forever I swear...an excess of holiday and a lack of friends with funds mean I will probably spend a jolly week in the luxury holiday chalet otherwise known as 'my flat with in-date food in the fridge', so then I will blog, oh god I will blog!

In the meantime, my good friend who I have never actually met, Dom, has started a new blog - Ich Luge Bullets - so go read that, or check out onedatatime.com or fourfour - the blogs by Rich and Tracie who do Pot Psychology on Jezebel.com. Honestly, I'm such a geek, I have huge 'friend crushes' on them - I haven't wished some perfect strangers were my friends more since I first watched Wayne's World...
I guess the only redeeming features this time are that a) they are real people and b) it won't result in me wearing baseball caps, tucking my hair behind my ears and going 'shhhha!'. That shit really does not fly when you are a 10 year old girl who lives in North London. Even if you do have the same hair.


p.s How shit is Mike Myers these days? Shhhhhha!

The Narcasstic Praise Hounds of Love are Calling

This is a rather long INFURIATING report about 'Millenials' or work shy young shits like my good self (and you if you were born between 1980 and 1995). I defy you not to throw your iphone through the lcd screen of your laptop after watching about five minutes of this utter claptrap.
Yeah times have changed Grandpa, young people no longer want to wear suits and trilbys or 'punch a timecard'. If you keep slapping your secretary on the arse, chances are she will quit and sue you, not giggle and fetch you another martini.
The point about more young people living at home is also a bit rich, as had the 'Babyboomers' not fucked up the US banks and stock market, then more Millenials could afford to move out and not live with their darling parents who have apparently raised them too well, being that we weren't all shoved down coal mines at 14, constantly critisized and told to work all the hours God sends.

Then again, maybe it's not just a biased ill researched piece of utter trash masquerading as news. Perhaps it is reverse psychology to stir us - admittedly more apathetic - young folk into action. Don't know about you, but I sure as hell want to go out and beat some 'Boomers right now.

Americana, Bees, Chris Cornell

While noodling around the internet (trying to work out whether I had accidentally plagurized the bee baby from the header of my page in a t shirt design)I rediscovered Blind Melon. My Dad had the album and I clearly remember him likening me to the similarly aged Bee Girl. This was unintentionally hurtful, as although he thought she was hilarious and enchantingly cute, she was also quite obviously as similarly rotund and ungainly to his own little progeny.

Anyway, the video is below, but further than a little weight related nostalgic moment, it made me pine for early 90's americana in general. It was around that time that I first discovered music, and MTV, thanks to visiting my Dad's work and raiding his CD's (new format sent him a little bonkers, hence all the popular hits of the day) and I remember thinking that music videos were possibly the coolest things ever.



Things were simpler back then, people smiled, there were no stylists (it would seem), the colours were brighter and it was fine to dance around like complete idiots, as aptly demonstrated by REM:



Barring the fact that such videos mean there are photos of me in existence where I am wearing John Lennon sunglasses and a backwards flatcap, I think it's a shame that things inevitably progressed as they have. These days (and I am aware that I sound about fifty right now) music videos are unbiquitous and for the most part, identikit. Most involve dead eyed models in thongs gyrating around in some conveluted choreography or acting like pieces of meat over a disco beat. No wonder little girls are growing up fast and getting complexes about their appearance! Even the Bee Girl, my own little eight year old doppleganger, finds happiness at the end of 4 minutes and 50 seconds, in a wonderful garden where people accept her for who she is. How many happy fat girls do you see in music videos these days?

Anyway, I couldn't finish this post without embedding the video that kind of sums up my whole MTV worship era. Moody dudes on a hillside, the most advanced camera trickery of the day, wind machines and warped-yet-slightly cliche imagery to stimulate impressionable young minds. Utterly creepy and fantastic.



Even though this vid (along with the dancing chicken in the Peter Gabriel video) totally scared the shit out of me out at the time, I'd let my daughter watch them over Pussycat Dolls any day of the week.

If the new Gladiators isn't like this I for one will be sorely disappointed....

These are the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling (G.L.O.W) stars of the euponymous 1980's TV show. Yeah, it was basically like WWF but with laydees; 'Stallone's Sweethearts' the goodie good girls lead by 'pitbull with a facelift' Jackie Stallone (yes HER, awful Big Brother lady and who knew? Worst rapper in the world ever) and 'Kitty's Killers' the bad girls lead by some fat old woman who is probably dead now.

Go to the wikipedia site to read the hilarious descriptions of the girls, their fantastic names and their hilarious feuds, then go to Dlisted.com because I got the video from there, and if it wasn't for Michael K I might never have discovered this wonderful little gem.

I particularly love that because this was 1980's USA there were wrestlers called Palestinia and Ninotchka, naturally the mortal enemies of blonde blue eyed Americana. Oh, to be ten years older and American so I might have had the chance to witness this landmark of television!

Wiki

Dlisted

Edit: Having just seen THIS video, it would appear that Sky One is making efforts to capture the irony obsessed hipster audience. This ruse will most likely fail as Sky One is a naff cheeseball of a channel (and not even in a so-bad-it's good way so much as a 'meh, what's on Living? way'), but luckily there are vast swathes of idiot students who get high on nostaligic shit, and the marketers can easily twist dem demographics to be one and the same. Oh yeah, and the kids will love it too.

Who Watches the Watchmen?

Geek that I deep down am (well, scratch the surface really) I was quite excited by these photos of Ozymandias, the Nite Owl and the Comedian from the upcoming film of Alan Moore's Watchmen. I was somehow drawn into a massive long ramble about graphic novels just last week, where I waxed lyical about the complex storylines, the art and the skill at being able to convey a wide range of emotions or a whole backstory in just a frame to some family friends. Unfortunately for all my oratorial olympics, every time I paused for breath they would respond 'oh so they are like cartoons right?' or 'like Garfield?' until I imagined a graphic frame of me howling with frustration, causing the walls to shake, fists clenched and face upturned. It would be from above so you saw my upturned face with gritted teeth and eyes desparing, and I am flanked by the two well meaning family friends, one of whom has taken a Peanuts anthology from the shelf and is gesturing to it as if to say 'like this?' The other one would be wearing a cardigan and holding a mug saying 'Abergavenny Jazz Festival 1999' Don't you wish I could draw huh? Anyway, I really hope Watchmen will be good, Moore's other works that have been filmified range from V for Vendetta (v good) and From Hell (alright, but ruined by some shocking accents but saved by Johnny Depp) to The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (poo, dispite the presence of Stuart Townsend) One thing I wonder is how they are going to film the ending, which has New York being destroyed by a nuclear bomb for a greater good*. Mind you, they did Cloverfield, so I think Hollywood has got over the whole 'thousands of New Yorkers being killed by terrorists seven years ago' thing, those brave resilient Los Angeles producers...









*Well, in a rather large nutshell, but I don't want to ruin the book for people who haven't read it and really really should.

On the Bed, On the Floor,On the Towel by the Door...

Sarah Silverman and Jimmy Kimmel's hilarious love songs are quite old now (basic moral of this blog appears to be I should post stuff when I see it opposed to when I can be bothered, approximately three months after they are cool and new) but I still nearly 'lol' every time I see Sarah's.. and I guess it makes sense to post Jimmy's too while I am here, even though he covers his lack of wit with a boatload of celebrities..

Tattoos 4 Toddlers

I am once again merrily submerged in the world of Miami Ink (much to the annoyance of the Flatmate who does not see the interest or irony in such things) and it reminded me of this ludicrous website.

I think I initially dismissed it as a hoax, but apparently this is not so; I only wish I hadn't been so cynical as there used to be an amazing gallery of this guy's work, which is now scaled back to a few select pics.

Yes ladies and gentlemen, I am talking about Tattoos 4 Toddlers, a company which specialises in PERMANENT (well, ten years) tattoos for ummm... redneck hicks. Well, the kids of redneck hicks.

It's Sunday night, I'm tired, and I trust anyone who reads this site will be clever enough to draw their own conclusions about why tattooing a two year old might not be the best idea in the world, so I will spare you all an 'stating the bleeding obvious' rant on the matter. Instead just conjour up (if you can be bothered...there is quite good telly on now) an image of the Biche frowning at her laptop and going 'Gah! Gnnnnr! Duh!' in an exasperated fashion, and consider the below quote from some 'happy customers':

"My daughter Emily always enjoyed looking at my tattoos. Once my wife Julie and I found out about Tattoos 4 Toddlers we were excited about getting Emily her first tattoo. We felt it was no different than getting her ear's pierced and with only a few more tears."

Yeah, that's Emily in the photo btw... she's had the ear piercings and the tattoo, now all she needs is a kiddie bra and thong for her third birthday and she can go join Mommy at the Pussy Lounge Gentlemen's Club. ("She's so excited about earning back all the dollar Julie lost when her figure went after she gave birth!")

Poor brat, I think her face says it all..

Ha, and completely unrelated fact from le tele.. JFK refused to wear a hat as his hair was his trademark, and he was so influential that he caused a massive drop in hat sales in the USA. So whenever he came to campaign in a town there would always be some poor milliner desperately trying to force a hat upon him to perk up flagging sales!

What the Ill Informed Have Been Muttering About Today

* Was the Camden Market Fire caused by developers desperate to drive out the last few stall holders who were refusing to sell their pitches to them, so they could build a big glass monstrosity like the Ice Warf on the opposite side of the road?


*Have you ever seen two couples more in the throes of love than the Smiths and the Cruises? Look at the way they are touching! Nothing says 'we have lots and lots of straight up heterosexual relations' more than pointed touching and a dead eyed gaze. (okay pic not great, but if you read the London Paper you will know what I mean)

Yeah okay the ill informed have not been muttering much today. But they will be back tomorrow I am sure

No Chicken Soup for YOU!

Actually that is a complete lie, it turns out there is more than enough Chicken Soup to go round..too much in fact so you end up with titles like this one to the right----->

The 'Adopted Soul'? That sounds like some sort of Voodoo to me, but I guess it is comforting to know that if you were ever possessed by the spirit of a child (of any colour of the rainbow!) that there would be a book for you.

Other wonderful titles in the series include:

Chicken Soup for the Unsinkable Soul - perfect for that cruise holiday!

Chicken Soup for the American Idol Soul - so you can make it all tasty before selling it to Simon Cowell

Chicken Soup for the Soul: Children with Special Needs (WHAT a chicken out - pardon the pun - surely it should be 'chicken soup for the 'special' soul')

Chicken Soup for the Survivng Soul - yeah your body is dead, but your non physical self is still floating around in need of warm poultry liquid in written form

Chicken Soup for the Dieter's* Soul - It's the only form of Chicken Soup you can stomach now! (apart from maybe that powdered cuppa soup stuff that tastes like shit)

Chicken Soup for the Military Wife's Soul - calming words and anecdotes not including the one about the wife whose husband was thousands of miles away risking his life in a pointless war and when she next saw him he was be a vegetable and she had to live in poverty for the rest of her life as the government wouldn't pay out.

*sigh* Ooh I feel all warm now.


* Like people on a diet, not a book aimed at a small percentage of the male German population

Photo of the Day - Heroin Chic

No, it is not particularly current, undiscovered or kitsch, but I just re-stumbled these photos that show a girl's descent into homeless druggy hell over a fifteen year period.

And being something of a portrait photo geek, I find them completely fascinating.

Looking on the tinternet it appears she might be called Maria Ramos, but there appear to be quite a lot of people rather unfruitfully trying to find out if this is true.
Presumably because they have the aim of hunting her down to make a hugely inconsequential channel 4 documentary about drug abuse, obviously complete with sober sounding voiceover and grainy B&W stock footage of New York dubbed with police sirens and women's screams to pad out the two minutes footage they have of some police officer shrugging and going "Who?" and some crackhead going "Who? Oh she dead. You gotta dollar?"

Tsk!

p.s Is it me, or is it suprising that Stella Vine hasn't recreated these mugshots in huge daubs of paint yet?

Slow Afternoon - An Essay on Miami Ink

Aah Lovefilm. After three glorious months, I am now shelling out £12.99 a month for lots of dvds, which is something of a double edged sword. On one hand this is alright, I hate owning loads of dvds as I don't have storage room for them and I am renowned for never watching films more than once, if that.
On the other hand, I am renowned for never watching films more than once, if that.

Something about sitting down for a hour and a half watching a drawn out formulaic story is not only crashingly boring once the ending is evident, but makes me remember in an epiphany style *gasp* that I am wasting my life. And I resent being reminded of that on a bi weekly basis, particularly by a big movie star doing their Oscar turn in that bit of the film just after the middle where everything seems to be going wrong, only for it to be resolved at the end.

So I have basically become the Queen of the boxsets.

This was initially ace as I was able to witness the greatness of the Wire without shelling out for whatever obscure cable channel it is on, and watch every singe episode of Fraiser you can currently rent.
Unfortunately now I am up to the series of Fraiser where it has begin to jump the shark*, so I have been forced to look further afield for new brain sweeties.

Enter Miami Ink.

The premise is simple to the point of 'duh' - five guys who are renowned tattoo artists set up a parlour in Miami and tattoo people. We see how one tattoos and hear the stories behind each tattoo they do.

The initial laughs come from the hilarious stories of the tattoo shop patrons. Basically it appears you can't just get a tattoo for the hell of it, it always has to mean something and this itself means one of two things.
Either you get people who get full out epitaphs and portraits of dead loved ones on their legs or chests (snore) or you get the hilariously tenuous excuses for significance, which always go along the lines of : 'Well I want to get a pirate ship on my stomach as it symbolises that I am a free spirit, and because I swear I was a pirate in a past life, and I can really relate to their ethos, y'know?' or 'I want to get a flaming skull on my back? Because it's like mortality yeah? Tico is a skull now, and by putting it on my back it is the past, and it shows I am moving on, and putting things behind me'**

So that's great, but if that were not enough, the programme is obviously edited for multiple adverts, which means in each show you get the (usually bereaved) patron earnestly telling the same story ("Chico was only twelve when he choked on KFC") at least three times, each time in tears but with a slight variation of word order, followed by the tattoo artist musing on their customer ("to lose a kid like that, to chicken y'know man...Das hard")

The greatest lure of Miami Ink however is undoubtedly the tattoo artists themselves, particularly the 'owner' Ami James, who is (apologies for the lazy simile, but hardly anyone watched The Armstrongs) like David Brent, but if he were American and in charge of running South Beach's most famous tattoo shop.
Ami does the voice-over for the series, which mean we get gems like 'Ever since I was young, I have had problems with my anger' spoken over footage of him completely flipping out, kicking things and shouting at the other guys like a testosteroned lunatic and 'I guess Andrea's idea is a little unusual' as we see him look utterly disgusted and confused at someone's tattoo request.

Then there is the way he treats his 'apprentice' Yoji, a fully grown man, who we see getting married and becoming a father during the course of the series. Ami ritually abuses Yoji in a way which could be shown in schools as a textbook example of bullying, complete from demasculising him by making him do inane tasks like clean Ami's car, to just constantly and cruelly ripping the piss out of him while the others look on and laugh.
And yet Yoji has apparently been subjected to this low paid abuse for the last five years, on the vague promise (vague, but repeated about ten times an episode) that he will one day be 'a real tattooist', said in a voice which makes you wonder if they edited out the words'...the blue fairy will come and make you.....' ,
So perhaps he deserves it somewhat, as surely no one is THAT stupid.

The next great thing about Miami Ink, is the way it is filmed. I love American 'documentaries' such as M.I and The Hills etc, as they are in fact so scripted and completely contrived it becomes fun to actually try and see the truth lurking deep underneath. For example, there is the internet rumour going around that Ami is gay, which makes for great analysis - not because I care whether he is gay or not - but to see the looks he gives the beefcakes who stride in to get their chests tattooed, and to listen out as to whether he ever refers to his 'partner' in the masculine form.
Another example of my inferences of truth is that I think that Chris Garver doesn't like Ami at all. Chris is far and away the most talented tatooist, and is also far and away the least 'tv' of the tattooists. In the segeway group shots of them striding down South Beach to funky music and bizarre camera angles, he generally keeps his shirt on, and he appears less prone to overblown statements a la Ami 'I knew den. I had made. A friend fur life' James.
He also appears hugely uncomfortable whenever Ami is around, and can often be seen lurking in the back of shots looking like a man embarrassed or occasionally exasperated.
Then again, maybe Ami is gay and he is a raving homophobe. I am just inclined to believe the former because I am shallow and I think he is fit.
Whatever the case, he does draw great tattoos, and I suppose, grudgingly, that after all the David Brentisms, propaganda style editing, contrived situations and repeated sob stories, the process and resulting tattoos are quite interesting in themselves.


*on an incidental note, did you see the episode of Two Pints of Lager where Johnny died by attempting to jump over a shark? HO BLOODY HO YOU BUNCH OF SELF REFERENTIAL CUNTS, an episode where the entire cast was obliterated by the ebola virus (played by guest star Daniel Day Lewis) couldn't make TPLAAPC anything other than the worst fucking thing my eyeballs have ever seen.
** the former is true, believe it or not.

Photo of the Day - "Hello Kitty, Make My Day"

Those of you who read this blog often might remember my post about Hello Kitty Airlines, where I wondered if there was anything you couldn't buy with Kitty on it. Well it now turns out that if you were fed up of eating your Hello Kitty shaped chicken pasta while the Hello Kitty air hostess ignores your request for a Hello Kitty sickbag, you could hold the muthafucker up with this delightful AR-15 rifle.

What next? Hello Kitty machetes? Hello Kitty euthanasia kits? HELLO KITTY GAS CHAMBERS??*

*if anyone has a link for these..

Cloverfield: An Uneasy Biche writes..

Like most people who piddle away their lives on the internet, and whose endless search for gossip cannot be saited by UK websites, I was getting mildly excited about the release of Cloverfield.
For those who have been hiding under rocks/not online (same difference) It concerns New York under monster attack in an action movie stylee, but from the perspective of some ordinary New Yorkers with videocameras who are having a party... what is it? What will happen? Will they escape the city? Bravo JJ Abrams again etc..

Then last night I caught The Falling Man on More 4. For those who haven't seen it, it is, for all the usual amount of naff philosophising and talking heads, an ultimately heartbreaking documentary, although this is largely down to the unforgettable footage.
It is basically about all the people who jumped from the WTC on 9/11; people who either took control of their lives or committed the 'sin' of suicide, depending who you ask. Whatever one calls their actions, the resulting photos and footage, which were generally considered the most shocking of the day, were pretty much omitted from all coverage in a remarkable act of mass censorship. Even when they were pubished in a few outlets the public complained in such great numbers they were not reprinted for a very long time.
Indeed the whole issue was so delicate that when a journalist called the NY City Morgue to enquire how many deaths from jumping they had, the mortician replied that 'there had been no jumpers. People were sucked out the buildings by the wind but no one jumped.'

Anyway, as the documentary focussed on journalists who were trying to identify the one man in the photo above, one individual out of the thousands who died, it made me think about Cloverfield and it's narrative. On one hand, it is similar to the documentary as it personalises a tragedy to a small group of people affected by it. However it is also monster action movie, so it has equal amounts in common with Austin Powers' 'does anyone think of the Henchmen's family?' genre parody.

And that's cool..I'm not a Daily Mail reader, I wouldn't discourage anyone from seeing Cloverfield, in fact I probably will go see it. But whereas before I would just get into the spirit of it and have a good couple of hours, now I think I would feel decidedly uneasy. We have seen New Yorkers die as their city is attacked for real. Even if it is a flipping reptile and not two planes, it's still rather close to the bone given the way it is filmed and the New Yorker's POV (although that is obviously the point.)

It just seems that time and perspective are funny things...when it happened, we knew thousands had died, but many objected to seeing one actual body as it was deemed too disturbing and disrespectful. Seven years on, you can make an action movie parodying the day and no one bats an eyelid. Is that progress or desesitization? I really don't know.

*serious post over. Let's get back to the screaming queens, eh?*