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Thu, Jun. 5th, 2008 | 03:13 pm  slavezombie


Ironman, the Americanized giant robot
slavezombie
Back in the days when godzilla was the best scifi monster movie available in theaters and TV, I went further down that road and recall a film called Giant Robot.

I sat thru Ironmad thinking, at least I'm not watching a two plus hour movie called Speedracer just to try to detect the voice of Elizabeth Daily (because she just looked so cute in Peewee's big adventure.) And you know, it's a great film for computer nerds! There's lots of glory placed on technology in electronics like building WMDs. It would be nice to have a computer that can double task the way Tony Stark has his equipped to manage his studio. I would just love it if I could get enough RAM on my system. One scene shows Tony hard at work giving voice commands to his computers, the next he's tearing off in his sports car racing to a red carpet event in his honor. I guess the moral of this film is only fast people with a death wish who risk their livelihood in everything they do can live the good life. Everyone else is slime. Look at Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, the list goes on, but you didn't hear me call these computer pioneers nerds. That kind of thing is politically incorrect. Unless you are a geek yourself, calling others nerds may be hazardous to one's health.

This title sucks big time because, unless it's in black and white, talking about "I earn man" might give people the wrong idea. And you know about anthem rock, right? That's what I went to see. How would the director utilize a BLACK SABBATH song as background music. Are you ready? I'll probably be spoiling it for you. The song is played just as the final credits begin.

So, the film is over. I make nice and throw my trash away for the poor slave laborers who clean up after slobs like me and I make my way to the parking lot. I can't find my pkg stub and I think, "fucking hell ay!" I'm probably going to be charge like $20 or something now. The only thing worse would be finding the damn ticket later when I get home (sticking out of my ass like in the movie Three kings.) Something, I don't care what anybody says, made me throw my ticket in the trash, sadly enough. I'm home now, and short of stripping down and making a full cavity search, I don't see it anywhere. I paid a whole $5.00 more for parking than I had to, not bad considering I've paid as much as $50.00 for parking to see a damn movie.

How irresponsible of me. I remind myself of the podcast theme for Björk Bjlög. While it must be nice to be as carefree and irresponsible like IRON MAN and Björk for the sake of creativity, sometimes a person wants to get away from their personal assistants who take care of their every need. You can catch her quicktime streams at http://www.studiofred.com/series/bjorkbjlog/ and see, just like the scene with Pepper Potts in which Tony is asked for his SS number, how Björk manages to achieve the daily harangue of adult living. I think I'm beginning to understand how it feels to be unable to safely pocket a piece of trash. Ouch! there goes that kidney stone. I know $5 is not much (compared to $50), but what gets me is the effort I put into managing my time, clipping coupons, killing two birds…—and btw, if your birthday is coming up, I got you something cute—and in the end, I'm the one getting screwed. Fuck me.


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