Puente Aereo.

Thanks to the “Puente Aereo Blog” for linking people up to my website; it’s been determined that more than one person clicked the link to “Sonny Wilkins”. I can’t speak Spanish to save my life (German in HS), but something tells me it has something to do with comic books? Or possibly some other pop culture blasting I posted. Either way, I appreciate it. As a token, here’s a link to Puente Aereo. Espanol flows not in this cortex; I hope I didn’t just link everyone to some Neo-Nazi camp. Kidding, from the overall feel of the site, the pictures, etc; I can tell that I’d dig it. If I only spoke fluently (or at all)! Thanks again.

-Sonny

Hole In the Universe.

Astronomers have found a gigantic hole in the universe measuring almost a billion light years across. I’m a little tardy on this, considering the date: August 23rd, 2007. But I stumbled upon it via Warren Ellis’ site (which can be found in my ‘Links’ page). Apparently, this hole was either found, or simply reported upon, by several astrophysicists from the University of Minnesota; their paper was accepted and published in the “Astrophysical Journal”. Maybe I should subscribe. Anyways, here’s the link: Article To Hole In Universe. Have fun. And quit stealing monkey’s.

-Sonny

Kennel District.

What about this notion: an invitation to death equals an invitation to infinite knowledge. Turn the other cheek, though. Don’t listen; you aren’t supposed to. Step One: figure out what YOU believe. But hey, let’s war. Ideas threaten; not comfort. All I’ve got to do is try it… and it works! It actually works. Insane? Probably. That word communicates falsity, though; insanity’s an opinion, at best. Nothing short of “Mario, not Sonic”. Step Two: envision that in your head, death and all. Mac & Cheese. Seriously though, insanity’s only a vague description of specific behavior based on societal norms and what we think we know about the human psyche and consciousness. We don’t actually know. Epistemology; I shouldn’t even get into it. Step Three: believe it with every fiber. WRONG, pop doesn’t matter; not when it’s shit. And all this… shit. Explaining this will test your assuredness, no doubt. Effrontery, aplomb, self-reliance. No gimmicks. Kennel District works from the begining, too. Not just the end. Step Four: die; hopefully not painfully. Work out the kinks. Trial and error. Record your results. Rinse and repeat.

-Sonny

Shiny Samurai Swords.

Deciding what the best samurai film of all time is proves a harder task than anyone could imagine (especially online message boarders and Amazon list makers). Impossible’s more like it. For two reasons. 1)The samurai film has been one of the more consistent films in the history of movies; most of them don’t suck (I don’t consider “The Last Samurai” a samurai-film, and you shouldn’t either; actually most are quite good). And 2)Determining the “best” anything gradually starts to feel like the worst idea of all-time. There’s no worse question anyone could ever debate, especially in this age of List-shows on the tele, and particular Spin magazine articles and issues.

For these reasons, I’m not going to try to answer the Q. Besides, bigger samurai aficionados lurk around the corners; I’m not about to upset any of those guys, you never know who actually owns a blade (and wields it)! I don’t need to be diced up. I prefer wholeness. Maybe I should look into a blade. A Hattori Hanzo preferably.

The samurai could easily be a legend, sometimes a myth, equated to the American “cowboy”. Ironic, considering both hit their peaks long before the 1960′s: when both integrated styles from the other into their respective film-homages. Samurai flicks and westerns, especially in the 50′s and 60′s, played off of each other nicely. Both in story and technique. Each genre extremely character driven, with limited action sequences (not like Hong Kong Kung-Fu or American Action). The “showdowns”. The “wanderers”. The anti-heroes, and the morality… or lack thereof. Collectively, samurai flicks captured these better than most westerns did (I’m not going to get into the obvious exception: Leone).

Historically, even though the samurai emerged in the 7th century, and the cowboy in the 19th, not to mention on opposite sides of the world, the Samurai and Cowboy have much in common. Both were born in an age of land development, and shifting regional powers. Some served faithfully, some rebelled. Nomads. But the samurai mostly lived by strict codes of conduct. Bushido. Ninjo and Giri, the paradox. Which is why I respect the samurai much more so than I do the cowboy. But the Ronin was regarded as a scoundrel among Japanese, much like the American Outlaw; proving that not all were “honorable warrior servants”.

Kurosawa’s name was going to make an appearance in this writing, clearly. I can’t help it, I didn’t even want to! But there were other great mid-20th century samurai directors. There was Misumi, Okamoto, Kobayashi, and Gosha. The samurai film hit its peak in these years; these movies directly influenced the ever-changing western genre into its greatness as well. But 50′s and 60′s samurai movies owe big to yet another genre: film noir. No one could predict such transition: film-noir’s heyday> samurai-fiction’s heyday> spaghetti-western’s heyday. But each holds aspects that speak more clearly in another.

Recently, the samurai film has emerged once again. 1998′s awesome “Samurai Fiction”, and of course Tarentino’s love-note to the samurai (and Kung-Fu) “Kill Bill”. In 2003, an awesome re-telling of the Zatoichi legend hit cinemas in Japan. The film “Twilight Samurai”, based on a selection of same-character-novels, sparked interest into the genre once again in 2002.

I’d like to see another generation of Japanese independent filmmakers create their own takes on these familiar legends. Blind Swordsman, Wandering Ronin, Aging Warrior, Vengeful Badass. I only say independent because typically any form of samurai-film that receives major studio money sucks. Not sure why that is. But there’s way more good samurai movies than bad ones. Take the Sword.

-Sonny

Nemesis/Archenemy.

It is my firm belief that everyone of us has a nemesis, an “archenemy”. Someone who stands for everything you shake your fist at; someone you’d punch in the face immediately, without some exchange of words. The fact that I read comic-books probably doesn’t deter this by-all-means silly fucking idea, but I really completely honestly believe it to be true. I’ve believed it to be true for a long time, since I can remember.

Undoubtedly, most of us will never meet this person. Its just way too bloody unlikely. But we can feel him or her out there, somewhere. Mine’s in a Cracker Barrel somewhere in the continental United States, picking out a new ash tray for his/her place; even though he or she will never use it, and is getting it because it looks “weird”. This person also probably loves ABC’s Tuesday night line-up, and drinking micro-brews/anything-but-Merlot red wine while commenting on MySpace.

Something struck me while writing about the nemesis, however, no more than 46 seconds ago. The nemesis and the archenemy aren’t one in the same. The differ, subtly. And sometimes they can be the same, but more likely than not, they aren’t. We all know “they”. The hidden entity that supposedly controls “us”. They aren’t going to let you do that. They will be watching. They limit our potential, someone’s got to stop them. CK writes about the nemesis as if he were my long lost evil-twin. Goatee and all. He explains: Larry Bird’s nemesis was Magic Johnson; Larry Bird’s archenemy was Isiah Thomas. Celtics vs. Lakers: entertaining rivalry, always beautiful and close in the end; Celtics vs. Pistons: usually turned ugly, there were blowouts and fights galore.

How do you know your nemesis from your archenemy? You like your nemesis, a little bit, even though you despise him (according to Chuck); you’ll never like your archenemy. If you died, your archenemy would dance on your grave while spitting on it. Also there’s this little pop-cult nugget: “The Joker was Batman’s nemesis, but- ironically- his archenemy was Superman, since Superman made Batman mortal and generally non-essential. Nobody likes to admit this, but Batman fucking HATED Superman; Superman is the reason Batman became an alcoholic.” (maybe methamphetamine’s, but that’s speculative)

Anyways, here are the tell-tale signs of Nemesis or Archenemy. Something I feel should be common knowledge; at least more so than which five colors adorn the Guitar Hero neck frets (there’re five, right?). These criteria, according to Klosterman, help:

Recognizing Your Nemesis

-At some point in the past, this person was (arguably) your best friend. -You and this person both competed for the same woman once; both of you failed. -You have (or will) punch this person in the face. -If invited, you’d attend this person’s wedding; even though secretly you’d hope for an eventual divorce. -People who don’t know the two of you assume you to be friends; people who both of you assume you profoundly hate each other. -If your archenemy tries to kill you, this person would try to stop them.

Recognizing Your Archenemy

-Every time you talk to this person, you lie. -If you meet someone who has the same name as this person, you immediately like them less. -This person has done two things (or more) you’d deem “unforgivable”. -The satisfaction you get from your own success pales in comparison to the despair you get from this person’s success. -If this person fucked your girlfriend, she’d never be attractive to you ever again. -Even if this person’s girlfriend was an ugly, hateful bitch; you’d sleep with her out of spite (regardless of venereal disease? This isn’t clarified)

Keep your eyes peeled for that Magneto or Cassandra Nova; cause he/she might be right around the corner.

-Sonny

Saturday Ravaging.

Let’s see… 3 or 4 beers pre-game, also 2 Brandy-7′s. Couple of cigarettes, nothing special. Six or seven shots total. Including a couple whiskey’s, one Blowjob, one Jag-Bomb, don’t remember what else. Received spankings from an older woman who looked like she’d had lots of life. Zero drugs, not even herb. Straight booze. Walk gingerly up behind this frilly blond girl. I put my arm around her, like a friend I’d give advice to. I looked at her, looked down a bit. Glanced at her boots, and clothes, looked back into her face, then turn away; my arm still around her. “I.. I just think… Your tryin’ too hard” Oh man. That did NOT go over well with her dark-haired, actually very cute, friend. If that chick had a boyfriend, I’d be looking into this comp. screen through two large shiners. Tiny little slits, like Iron Man. A good turnout, good times. One thing would’ve made the night better, me DJing that place. Good to see everyone. There’s no limits to the madness. I got LOTS of good stuff. Enough media to hold me over for some time… started “Face to Face”. Apparently in Bruce’s absence someone’s been murdering the murderers. I need turntables. To be continued, I ‘spose.

-Sonny

Police Corruption Tips.

I submitted a tip to www.wearetheanswer.org. In the hope of helping to stomp out some of the growing police corruption within the GPD. The incident occurred at Hermantown Liquor on Harrison St. in uptown sometime around 2:15 in the AM last Thursday night. My submitted tip read:

“I saw an officer parked at Hermantown Liquor. He got out of his squad car and looked around a little bit; then he opened his back door and helped a man (criminal?) in handcuffs out. He removed the handcuffs and both got back into the car: the officer into the drivers seat, the other man into the passenger seat. They sat for about 5 mins, I couldn’t see exactly what they were doing. Then the man got out of the car and walked away. The officer sat for roughly another 10 minutes. Then he drove off.”

If you want to help Assistant D.A. Harvey Dent in his mission to make this city a better place to live, submit any suspicious police behavior to the aforementioned website. When internal investigations does nothing but twiddle its thumbs, all the while maintaining the “we know nothing” face, as citizens our right and responsibility is to report these types of incidents. Gotham City has enough problems already (debt, declining population, the growing criminal factions, mental dissorders from the Narrows Disaster, etc), we don’t need to have to worry about the police too.

Here’s the wearetheanswer.org statement from D.A. Dent:

In response to numerous complaints about corruption within the Gotham Police Department, the District Attorney’s Office has established this tip page for citizens to report issues involving the police without fear of retribution or harassment.

Many police officers are good and honest people putting their lives on the line to protect Gotham from crime. We appreciate these officers and reward their efforts by reporting corruption when we see it.

——————————————————-

If a police officer asks you to perform an illegal act, or performs an illegal act in your presence, your first concern should be for your own safety and the safety of friends and family. When it is safe, please report that act either to the District Attorney’s Office directly or here at this website.

Let’s make this city good again.

-Sonny

Kevin Smith Horror?!

Jay and Silent Bob vs. hordes of flesh eaters? Nope. In fact, Smith’s ninth film seems to be his most secretive yet. According to Kev’s blog over at the ViewAskewniverse [viewaskew.com], he finished the script late one night this summer: August 30th.

Smith wrote of his ‘Red State’ script: “Totally different than anything I’ve written before. Very fucked up… It’s a weird, relentlessly bleak and extremely unsettling affair…” Intriguing, this sounds. Smith sent to script to one of his friends right after he finished it. In response, his friend Malcolm texted him back, “I dare you”.

So what the hell IS ‘Red State’?? Like I said, no one really knows. Smith’s blog goes into detail the process of writing it, but nothing about the actual script itself. Supposedly, this WILL NOT be a Jay and Silent Bob flick. Although Mewes and Smith are set to act in it. Jeff Anderson, Randal from Clerks and Clerks 2 (little disappointed with) will apparently be in ‘Red State’ as well. IMDB’s synopsis reads: “A horror film in which a group of misfits encounter fundamentalism gone to the extreme in Middle America.” Could ‘Red State’ involve political satire in with the head severing and torso impaling? Sounds like it. But that seems far out of the radar for a guy like Kevin Smith. Someone who could easily do it, but never wanted to.

If Smith weaves political satire into his very first splatter flick, devoid of Jay and Silent Bob: the possibilities are astounding. It could be my favorite Kevin Smith movie yet. Another thing throws me off, though; the IMDB Genre spot reads Drama/Horror/Thriller (when you’d assume it read Horror/Comedy/Thriller). Combine this information with Smith’s “relentlessly bleak, extremely unsettling affair…very fucked up, etc” and for a second you might believe that there’s nothing funny about ‘Red State’. Strange, considering the (supposedly) satirical flavors, Jeff Anderson’s involvement, and the fact that its a Kevin Smith film. Production will begin on Red State after Smith finishes his latest film “Zack and Miri Make A Porno”. Which features Seth Rogan, Elizabeth Banks, and also Mewes and Anderson.

Smith’s making a ‘fucked up’ horror movie, with possible political roots, and zero Jay or Silent Bob. Excited, I am. Especially when his close friends dare him to make it.

-Sonny

Sawney Bean.

True or not; a maniacal tale, oozing with anthropophagy. In the 16th century, a man by the name of Alexander Bean was born into petty physical labour. The family trade. Alex had a destiny his own, however; NOT in the form of digging ditches and trimming hedges. The young man showed no desire to work in the family business (or any business), so he fled to the hills with a young woman who’s mind was as warped as his own. Think Mickey and Mallory. Natural born killers.

The two lovers held up in a cave near the sea in what is now South Ayrshire, Scotland. They’d live most of their adult lives here. Over the years, the Beans had eight sons and six daughters; who, consequently, had 32 kids of their own (the original Beans’ grandchildren). Born out of incest, the family was said to be mutated. As we now know, inbreeding can result in: genetic disorders, physical deformities, facial asymmetry, odd growth rates, and unnatural size; the ‘mutation’ legend seems plausible.

To survive (or maybe for fun), the family ambushed and murdered individuals, sometimes small groups, during the night of the Scottish countryside. They would bring the bodies back to their cave to dismember and cannibalize. Leftovers often times were pickled, but sometimes discarded into the nearby sea. The family lived this way for years. Until one night, when a man on horseback fought mercilessly against the Beans with a sword and pistol (after his wife was taken by the Beans); the Beans fled, and the man exposed their relative position.

Word soon reached King James VI of Scotland, who would later become King James I of England. The King sent out a massive search party to find the Beans’ hideout. They soon stumbled upon the cave to find it rife with humanistic horrors. An estimated thousand murders and acts of cannibalism. The entire family was marched to jail in Edinburgh. Eventually, the Beans would be tranferred to Glasglow for execution without trial. The men’s appendages were severed: bleeding to death. The women, after forced to watch, were burned alive.

So why am I sharing this 16th century horror story with you? Because, many people assume that the indigenous tribes of Africa and South America were the only peoples to indulge in terrifying acts of cannibalism (they did, specifically the Anasazi Tribe of Central America). That, somehow, European folklore is more more squeaky clean that that of African, American, or Asian. Not true. And although this legend might be exaggerated, the notion that a small group of cannibals terrorized near towns and peoples in South Scotland doesn’t seem like much of a stretch. We live with blinders on, sometimes. Genocide and serial killers aren’t exclusive to the 20th century, you know, nor certain non-European continents. Hrm.

-Sonny

Taqueria.

New York style pizza. Some guy lays underneath a car (working on it/lifting it); rear-ended to shit. It’s jacked up, not well. A girl sits in the driver seat, scratching something down onto a notepad. Patience. Dine-In or Take-Out. Cigarette butts, wrappers, and assorted trash breeze across the pavement. Colorado trail mix. Another car doesn’t seem to mind that she’s missing her driver side front wheel. Doesn’t look like it’d start and/or drive anyway. It must have been here for a long time; part of the landscape, now. No reversals. Doors: MIA. Seats, too. San Fran sourdough. There’s lots of broken glass, and tattered clothing under the front end. White border, orange along the bottom. A nice shady overhang invites three people (two girls and a guy) over for a chat. The dude sits with a Big Gulp, staring through the girls into the road. He’s clearly uninterested. The girls stand in front of him, posing slightly. Ice Cold Beer, 99c. One wears a skirt, and she’s reaching into her bag for something. Fishing for purpose. The other, hand on hip, seems pissed off. Shoulders tight; one leg bent, one leg straight. An empty plastic bag adorns the far side. It reads: ‘thank you’ repeated throughout. Chicago hot dogs. Dilapidated urbs. The shadows are short; must be mid-day. Mid-town? Maybe. Someone’s tagged their name on the building’s crackly siding. [blank] was here. Its dirty, run down, exhausted to hell: which makes it senile; but somehow, its cozy and comforting. There’s clearly no lack of life-experience here. Philly cheesesteaks. Mm…Food.

-Sonny