What I Learned in Russia

About one half of the Russian population is quite lovely: possessed of above-average intelligence, friendly, hard-working, warm, decent, tolerant, and peaceful. The top five percent of this half is really brilliant and talented: scholars, teachers, leaders, inventors, artists, etc. The other half has below average intelligence; is superstitious, and moved by mob mentality. About five percent of this half is stupid, racist, violent, and base--the worst of our ancestral primate traits. This bottom five percent keep their behavior mostly in check, but a small fraction are totally out of control, and usually kept locked up in cages. People here are just like everyone else.

What I Learned in Australia

About one half of the Australian population is quite lovely: possessed of above-average intelligence, friendly, hard-working, warm, decent, tolerant, and peaceful. The top five percent of this half is really brilliant and talented: scholars, teachers, leaders, inventors, artists, etc. The other half has below average intelligence; is superstitious, and moved by mob mentality. About five percent of this half is stupid, racist, violent, and base--the worst of our ancestral primate traits. This bottom five percent keep their behavior mostly in check, but a small fraction are totally out of control, and usually kept locked up in cages. People here are just like everyone else.

Whale Wars Netflix Marathon

Here we go… I've never seen a single episode of this series, and now I'm going to watch the entire thing on Netflix….

What I Learned in El Salvador

About one half of the population is quite lovely: possessed of above-average intelligence, friendly, hard-working, warm, decent, tolerant, and peaceful. The top five percent of this half is really brilliant and talented: scholars, teachers, leaders, inventors, artists, etc. The other half has below average intelligence; is superstitious, and moved by mob mentality. About five percent of this half is stupid, racist, violent, and base--the worst of our ancestral primate traits. This bottom five percent keep their behavior mostly in check, but a small fraction are totally out of control, and usually kept locked up in cages. People here are just like everyone else.

Jacqueline Colucci - Psychopath of the Month

Six years from now when this lunatic Jacqueline Colucci goes on trial for a triple homicide, they can't say no one predicted it. Antisocial Personality Disorder is real. These monsters walk among us. Some of them have pretty faces and nice bodies--that mask their evil emptiness. Yikes. They are the most dangerous ones. #UndercoverBoss #UncoversAFutureSerialKiller

Boston Market's AJ - #UndercoverBoss

I am in love with this hottie AJ. So dreamy!

My Kingdom for a Vapir One

The first glass-globe vaporizer I tried was like the emperor's new clothes. I puffed and puffed and inhaled and inhaled as deeply as possible, over and over. Nothing. I tried 10-15 types and brands of vaporizers over the last decade, and every one was a complete bust. Zilch. Jokes, all. But then one fortuitous day, Vapir One came into my life. …I set it on 400 degrees and inflated a bag… and, boom, my life changed forever. After using this for so long, the taste of anything burning is so gross. Ashes are so fucking disgusting. I love this machine so much. It totally changed my life.

Undercover Boss Netflix Marathon

I'm a pathetic sensationalistic sucker for this silly show. I weep hot tears at the end--when the CEO starts handing out the goodies--free trip, free college for kids, free car… and sometimes: free house!… then I reach for the kleenex.  I puff on superheated hydro weed vapor from my Vapir One, and watch Undercover Boss for 14 solid hours. I'm really going downhill. Saints & Sinners: Kat Cole has such a fake snotty smile and plastic personality. Ron Lynch, this sleazy lying douchebag… Okay Ron, if you're going to be a smut peddler, just be an open, honest, and direct smut peddler. I love Hugh Hefner. Ron Lynch could just embrace the fact he schleps tits and ass, but he's so morally retarded that he cloaks his Tilted Kilts in this propaganda: "Our number one goal is being classy in all things." What a charlatan. I have such deep admiration for Larry Flynt and Hef--because they are honest, and they are fighting for the freedom of adults to express sexuality openly. Ron Lynch is a sewer rat, and Kat Cole is a phony creep. KOA's Jim Rogers is a lovely man; I want to go camping there now. Boston Market's Sara Bittorf is a peach. This season's most frightening monster was Jacqueline The Psychopath from Retro Fitness

Camille: Formaldehyde Number Nine

Starring James Franco and Sienna Miller; directed by Gregory Mackenzie. This film contains one of the strangest edits I've seen--a cut that makes it look like Franco has walked into his own POV (when he spots Camille in the river). One can only wonder how a film like this gets made. When you consider what a tiny fraction of movies that go into production ever end up on the screen; and what a tiny fraction of scripts written/sold/optioned ever go into production, it wobbles the mind to consider that this film made it all the way through the almost mathematically impossible feat of becoming a movie. Dare I spoil it? She's dead! Yes, unfortunate Camille has died on the honeymoon, but she's still, uhmm, alive. Well, not alive, but not dead. This is the tricky part when it comes to screenwriting and film grammar. There should be rules to her predicament, and the film should stick to them. Scott Glen absolutely sucks in his role. Okay, I guess I should just shut up and enjoy Franco's earlier body--tight and turgid with youth. I want her wig. Is she a ghost? Is she a zombie? Someone explain to her that she's dead. Oh, wait, that's the whole plot.

Julie Julie Julie

I had the pleasure of meeting Julie once. She's a lovely sweet lady, and she's quite good in What Maisie Knew. The movie bored me almost to sleep, and I wouldn't recommend anyone waste 99 minutes on it. But if you do, at least every frame of Julianne Moore offers the viewer something of interest and emotional complexity. Love Her!

The Flowers in the Corner

If nowhere in the mainstream mutual media onanism, then perhaps in a quiet, dark, little corner of the internet--someone should be frank. Feels good to write something that no one will read; and know that you're wasting nothing more than time. I could just sit here and watch all these movies and listen to all this music and read all these books and say *nothing*.  But why not lean up in my chair with my mac air, and tickle the keys and say something. No one will ever read this crap, but surely I will burn more calories typing than picking at my face and avoiding homework.

Lea Michele's Irritating Voice

Lea Michele's horrible annoying voice--that strangulated, nasaly Mickey Mouse noise that comes out of her face and can bend steel--is as bad when she speaks as when she sings. Glee would be so great if you could just cut out every single scene in which Lea Michele speaks or sings. She's lovely to look at. It's just best (for refined ears) when she doesn't open her mouth.

The Boredgias

I decided to watch Borgia on Netflix. It's a decent series save two painful flaws: John Doman and Mark Ryder. Doman's acting is so painfully wretchedly unwatchably bad. He chokes out every line with the unnatural affectedness of small town dinner theater acting. He almost sinks the entire series. Ryder's stretched white face is so painful to look at--not remotely Italian in any way. And, omg, those razor-thin lips are so creepy and icky. Christian McKay is so good. He should have been cast in the titular role.