“As for countering what she sees as the empty Obama brand of hope, she offers only a chilly void: Abandon hope all ye who enter here. This must be the first presidential candidate in history to devote so much energy to preaching against optimism, against inspiring language and — talk about bizarre — against democracy itself. No sooner does Mrs. Clinton lose a state than her campaign belittles its voters as unrepresentative of the country.”—Frank Rich, NY Times: “The Audacity of Hopelessness”
“The flexibility of the English language allows us to imagine that we are an inherently witty nation, when in fact we just have a vocabulary and a grammar that allow for endlessly amusing confusions of meanings.”—Lost In Translation (via nostrich)
I may not be the world’s biggest Joel Stein fan, but convincing the Clooney to come over to your house and eat parsley and lamb is pretty baller. If nothing else, the video of George crawling into Stein’s attic to discover the source of a beeping noise, mocking the writer’s talking head career, and later, ending up on the floor cursing himself is worth heading to the story.
“Maybe the character’s mother didn’t feed him when he was 5 years old, or something like that…. I started to do that [imagining a “backstory” for Chigurh], but then I realized… in this case, it would be much more helpful if I didn’t know where he was coming from. The challenge was to embrace a symbolic idea and give it human behavior. It wasn’t about how his mother didn’t feed him.”—Javier Bardem, on playing Anton Chigurh in ‘No Country for Old Men’ (via)
Watching the movie is like viewing a natural disaster that you cannot turn away from. By that I do not mean that the movie is bad, any more than it is good. It is a force beyond categories. It has scenes of terror and poignancy, scenes of ruthless chicanery, scenes awesome for their scope, moments echoing with whispers and an ending that in some peculiar way this material demands, because it could not conclude on an appropriate note — there has been nothing appropriate about it. Those who hate the ending, and there may be many, might be asked to dictate a different one. Something bittersweet, perhaps? Grandly tragic? Only madness can supply a termination for this story.
The Blade Runner videogame is notable for its accurate-to-the-movie, even lovingly-imitated environments, and for remaining quite true to Philip K Dick’s novel. The game is in some ways even truer to the book than was the movie, in that Ray McCoy is more troubled by his identity than the film version of Deckard - much like the book’s version of said character.
I watched Blade Runner for the first time a couple weeks ago and couldn’t understand why the atmosphere seemed so familiar, then I remembered the video game.
I am not a gamer. I like Tony Hawk because skateboarding around is fun and I can button mash randomly. I also like Mario Kart, the favorite game of girls everywhere. That’s about it except for Blade Runner.
I played BR a lot. At the time I don’t think I even realized it was based on anything. I didn’t really care about advancing the game, I just liked wandering around the cool city. The ambient noise was the best part, the electronic weirdness of it was so unique. The game intro is on youtube and it still looks pretty cool. It’s the only time a game has interested me as much as a good movie or book.
“This is the problem with Hillary Clinton. She is highly intelligent, has real experience and is an attractive candidate. But she is terrified to act on her beliefs. In fact, she seems so conditioned by what she sees as political constraints that one can barely tell where her beliefs begin and where those constraints end.”—Fareed Zakaria, The Wrong Experience
'We will teach a hunting safety course during their physical education class,' state senator and bill sponsor Billy Wayne Bailey told AFP. The courses would be imparted in secondary schools, from the eighth to 10th grade (13-16 years of age).”
I took wildlife/hunter’s ed classes like this in high school. We went to the firing range a few times and got to shoot rifles, shotguns and even handguns. At the end of the year I took the test that qualified me for a firearms licence, should I ever want one (I never will). Oh yeah, I took said test in a locked school classroom, using an unloaded rifle. Our teacher was a fully qualifed firearms instructor and an advid hunter; the class was incredibly bizarre and really fun.