Countdown to sadness.

Who doesn't love a good countdown? Initially invented by NASA as a means of bringing an element of anticipation to their otherwise unbearable shuttle launches, countdowns have evolved into an essential part of every day life, so much so that some people actually stop breathing while they watch them. Top 5 plays of the week. Ten things i hate about you. Triple J's hottest 100. It's a timeless method of sorting the weak from the strong, bringing instant embarassment to whoever is mentioned first and unlimited spoils for the final contestant announced, much like a reverse running race where the competitors have to run backwards from finish to start. There's something really magical about sitting on your ass, relishing in the fact that whoever compiled the list is even more of a time waster than you are, having sifted through a vast collection of songs, videos, reasons to hate something or viral youtube clips and then compiling them in an orderly fashion from the ones that suck the hardest but still somehow made the list, to the ones that are responsible for the list's existence. Once the holy grail is announced, you can walk away satisfied thanks to information that you know you didn't need, or knew already anyway. If the number one isn't what you expected it to be, you've got a conversational cache that'll last as long as the attention spans of you and your friends, which is about as long as an episode of 20 to 1.

Speaking of 20 to 1, i watched it this one time. Supposedly it was an Adults Only special edition because it was a countdown of the scariest movie villains from the horror genre of film. Excited at the prospect of free gore, i willingly sat through the entire episode as Bert Newton and his perfectly round face announced the entrants in a horrifically un-entertaining fashion. What i didn't realise at the time is that the episode in question would feature zero to no gore and i'd have been way more terrified if they just filmed Bert Newton walking around the stage reciting old monologues from his morning show. Then he looks at the camera with that sinister grin like "you know i could eat the world if i wanted to, don't you?". Bert Newton is scary and hilarious, that's why he's been on television for so long.

It's a shame i can't say the same for the long list of forgotten or currently unpopular celebs that throw in their two cents in between every clip. Celebrities whose careers are like that of a freshly caught salmon, jumping around on the cold wet ground as they breathe their last breath and cling on to their final moments in the spotlight. What sane commercial television producer would take something as serious as a countdown and let a bunch of nobodies run rampant through the proceedings, flapping their cake-holes about that one time they hid behind a blanket during that one scary scene they saw that one time? Douchebags, that's who in case you were wondering. There's no comic relief or insightful trivia to be found here, just litres and litres of rage.

Bert Newton: "Swimming in at number 16 is the most feared creature of the deep, on steroids, and i'm not talking about -insert extremely homosexual innuendo.....-"

*Plays JAWS footage, leaves out best bits*

Over-opinionated and crabby ex-news reporter - "Oooohhh, a shark, i'm really scared. Worst movie ever".

Some senior from Woman's Weekly - "After i watched JAWS, i never wanted to go to the beach again! Come to think of it, I went to the beach yesterday, so glad i didn't see JAWS!"

Blonde radio presenter and/or ZOO weekly model - "I was like, oh my god that shark is so plastic. Not back then, back then i was like omg so realisitc! But when i watch it now i'm like, get out of town, that shark is so plastic! Did you know i've been in RALPH magazine?"

Zany host from canned music video program - "That music killed me every time man! How did it go again? *Attempts rendition of JAWS theme, gets notes wrong*.

Some guy i have NEVER seen before - *Attempts rendition of JAWS theme, gets first note correct, bombs on second*

Big Brother contestant - "You're just sitting there and then BLAARRRRRGGGHHHH, something happens! *makes voluntary arm movements towards camera, generalizes disabled people*"

And then you've got the hacks that reveal the end of every movie in between the clips, which is a real shame if you haven't seen every movie ever made and are a general fan of cliffhangers, twists, plots, conclusions and the reasons why you watch movies in the first place.

Bert Newton - "Oh dear, slicing his way into number 8 this week on 20 to 1 is Jason Vorhees, the hockey player from hell, or is he?" *Homoerotic glance at cameraman*.

*Plays footage from Friday the 13th with really bad music over the top that doesn't even suit the theme of the footage or the theme of anything*.

Staff hairdresser from Home and Away - "I didn't even watch this movie. I heard there was a really big twist at the end or something?"

Someone that was famous in the 1970's - "You know what i loved about this flick? The fact that it was his MOTHER THE WHOLE TIME! I can't believe it was his MOTHER THE WHOLE TIME!"

Cue 20, 000 people sighing collectively knowing they'll never be able to watch Friday the 13th for the first time. Thanks mysterious actor that was on a Hills Hoist commercial that one time! Ruining things for people is fun, but only if you're completely aware of it and you do it with precision and tact. It's not fun when some guy that knows this will probably be the last time he's on television decides to spoil a work of art to show the population that he 'knows heaps of stuff' and should be getting more work than the occasional appearance on a countdown show hosted by Bert Newton.

Here's a 10 to 1 of entertainers that would not only make better commentators, but are also much more worthy of a comeback, if not their own programs all together.

10. Duke Nukem. This womanising, rocket-launcher abusing diplomat for sex and violence has been in the lurch for a while now and with the official announcement of his comeback game being canned for good comes a chance for default stardom on a countdown show.

9. Dil from Stickin Around.
One of the most deserving characters for a spin-off series, Dil never really got a chance to shine. With his loud voice and obvious mental handicaps, Dil would run laps around 20 to 1's current list of interruptions.

8. The Great Deku tree.
Old, wise and never actually dead, this giver of life to all things Hyrule needs to know that he's wanted. What better way than to let people know that you still exist than to appear on an episode of 20 to 1?

7. Inanimate Carbon Rod.
Not since since episode 96-1f13 of The Simpsons has Inanimate Carbon Rod been given the screen time it deserves. Having become a social networking sensation through it's numerous fan pages and versatile casting range, this seemingly pointless entity may just have a use yet.

6. Agro.
Troubled by gambling and alcohol addiction since his early retirement, Agro's deep-seeded little man issues and permanent psychotic grin have limited him to brief Telethon guest appearances and the odd lowly blog post. His aggressive nature could definitely bring a zingy, controversial edge to the current roster, particularly in regards to any women that should find themselves in his radius.

5. Gazerbeam from The Incredibles.
Another career that ended before it took off. Aside from a brief stint on The Incredibles as a soothsaying superhero incapable of adjusting to the civilian life, Gazerbeam hasn't had much in the way of actual work, possibly because he doesn't actually exist and only got a place on this list because of his hilarious name.

4. Shawn Bradley.
Not just because he's a 7"6 mormon ex-nba center who has six daughters and listens to country music, also because i haven't seen him on t.v. since the mid 90's. Subs indeed.

3. A Stegosaurus.
I've never seen one before so i guess you can't call it a comeback or a guest appearance. Regardless, i think out of all the dinosaurs that a Stegosaurus would have the most charming disposition and is definitely worthy of an audience. His plates say "i'm pretty much defenseless for the most part", but the spiked tail proclaims "say something about my plates, i double dare you". Dinosaurs also have bigger brains than most 20 to 1 contributors.

2. The fish from the SAFCOL tuna logo.
Completely ridiculous and utterly irrelevant, the fish from the SAFCOL tuna logo still has a better understanding of film and literature than anyone i've seen on the two episodes of 20 to 1 that i've seen. Because it is incapable of anything but sitting there and being a logo, it avoids awkward faux pas like annoying me on national television and spoiling successful film franchises by revealing the endings.

1. Petri Hawkins-byrd.
His real name might be Petri, but we'll always remember him as the bailiff from Judge Judy, or if you want to get technical, 'Jesus Christ in the Flesh'. If a wrecking ball and a Centaur had sex, they'd both be cheating on Petri Hawkins-Byrd. His ability to resist head-butting Judge Judy whilst standing next to her for hours on end is only equaled by his penchant for standing so still and upright that he would eventually camouflage into whatever background the cameras had in frame, only to re-appear if any plaintiff's acted out of line or to say the funniest thing you've ever heard. He's the reason you are here right now reading about him, he is the enforcer of all things fair and just and he is a secret grandmaster in the realm of trivial pursuit, which makes him the grandmaster of everything.

If he ever does decide to come back to television, i've already started putting together a pilot episode called 'Black belt rebuttal' and it basically features him walking around and answering people's questions with unprovoked suplexes.

Shutter Island.

Being someone that viciously judges any form of media on the strength/weakness of it's front cover and advertising campaign, i can say that seeing Shutter Island as soon as it came out had been a matter of the utmost importance since i first laid eyes on that billboard. It contained all the necessary imagery for a successful apprehension of my interest and was only made more convincing by the fact that it was everywhere i turned. How am i not going to see a movie advertised in multiple convenient locations with an image of an extremely sinister island asylum for the criminally insane spotlighted only by a lit match and a concerned Leonardo DiCaprio at it's header? It also helps that it's directed by one Martin Scorcese, who's last venture with Dicaprio resides at the top of my all time favourite films list, which is subject to change any time i bring it up.

I haven't seen Casablanca. This isn't for any particular reason aside from it's lack of awesome billboard advertisements and the fact that it was made before all of the stuff i currently enjoy even existed. I've seen stills for it though, stills and so many parodies and references to it that it takes no effort at all to have a general understanding of it's premise and why people talk about it like it's their first born child or something. For some reason, Shutter Island's opening scene reminded me of a parody scene from Casablanca that i'd seen on the Simpsons and several other cartoon sitcoms and not of a scene from the actual movie because i haven't seen it yet. It's 1954 and two detectives are standing at the bow of a ferry, smoking cigarettes and generally remaining invisible due to an impeding fog that helps set an unsettling foundation for the rest of the film. As our protagonists, U.S. Marshals Teddy Daniels (DiCaprio) and Chuck Aule (Mark Ruffalo) first lay eyes on the dock of the otherwise impenetrable island asylum, dramatic, overbearing strings slowly build as the viewer is introduced to this mysterious stronghold and it's disturbed patients. The haunting and scarcely present score for Shutter Island seems to drift in and out between the more intense scenes and also serves it's purpose as a spine-tingling backdrop for the dark and desolate island scenery Scorcese seems so intent on portraying to his audience.

From the beginning, the plot is a seemingly one way street. Teddy, an ex-army official haunted by memories of Nazi concentration camps and Chuck, a mostly unknown detective from Boston, are partnered up to investigate a missing patient/prisoner on the island asylum/prison. For the most part Shutter Island never announces it's true cause and could just as easily be defined as a prison for the criminally insane as it could a therapy centre for the mentally unstable. As soon as they dock at the port the detectives soon realize that this will be no walk in the park, made evident by the obviously edgy local law enforcement that begrudgingly greet them at the foot of the ominous island. As they are guided to the main quarters by the head of security and eventually introduced to the patients and staff, the threads of an elaborate joke begin to show and Teddy begins to question the sincerity of his investigation and eventually, his own story. Their entire plan begins to fall apart quite early in the film due to the lack of co-operation from the passionate head psychiatrist, Dr. Cawley (Ben Kingsley) and his staff, who seem to have other agendas unbeknownst to the detectives. Without a means of exit from the island as a wild storm approaches, Teddy and Chuck soon become wise to what they feel is a conspiracy against them, straying from their orders in an attempt to uncover the truth behind the facility's purpose. In classic Scorcese fashion though, expect some surprises as the story progresses.

One of the primary attractions of this movie aside from the story is the mysterious island and it's surrounding scenery. The story is played out during the course of a violent storm that threatens the facility that the detectives have been sent to investigate, allowing for plenty of frights and a constant feeling that things could go pear-shaped at any moment. The asylum/prison is divided into three sectors, the lesser women's and men's blocks and the 'C' block, where all the most violent, irreconcilable patients are kept. Surrounding the facility are jagged mountain edges, endless forrest, open fields and a mysterious cliff-side lighthouse that only comes into play towards the film's conclusion. It's dark, it's atmospheric and the plot gives each set piece just the right amount of shine, keeping things fresh whilst still providing a thorough insight into the establishment and it's surroundings.

Unfortunately, this film may not be for everyone. If you're a pussy or someone's girlfriend, you'll be spending a-lot of time behind your hands during the plentiful flashback sequences and there's an overall feeling of doom throughout the film that some might not be able to deal with. Beyond the scares though, you'll discover an engaging story exploring personal loss, identity and the intricacies of the human mind, played out by an exceptional cast lead by a director that clearly knows what he is doing. Don't go and see this movie at Event Cinemas Innaloo, their candy bar is undergoing refurbishments and i had to drink coke out of a bottle, the lousy 600ml inconvenience lingering in the corner of my eye for the entirety of the film and it's lack of storage almost soured the experience for me.

Now i need to read the book that it's based on so i can tell people that "the book is sooo much better than the movie".

Snakes on a train.

Remember how whenever you suggest public transport to people they piss and moan like you're asking them to crucify themselves and not resurrect afterwards? They aren't opposed to public transport as a whole, they're opposed to Perth's brand of public transport/livestock shipment. I haven't really experienced any other public transport systems as consistently as i have Perth's and therefore have absolutely nothing else to compare it to or any solid foundation for my conclusion aside from some loose statistics gathered by myself and shitloads of personal experience. With that said, i can confidently state it as the worst in the world, if not the entire country. It's so bad that asian students fall into comatose as soon as they sit down and the train starts moving.

Unfortunately for me, It's not even the trip itself that i find so offensive. Well, it is, but that's not the only thing. How come when people are complaining about something they go "that's not even the worst thing about it!". If it's the first thing you mentioned and you go on to mention something else about it, shouldn't you list your grievances in order from the ones that upset you the most to the least upsetting? It's like ripping on a restaurant and saying "oh dear, the pasta was so dry but that's not even the worst thing! My wife actually choked on a Ciabatta crust and died".

An essential part of all train rides is the ticket purchasing process. Normally you walk to the ticket machine, insert the correct change and a ticket comes out, granting you access to the second level of the train station and a wealth of new benefits like a metal seat with no empty spots and crying babies. But what if i'm a little off my game one morning? What if i woke up thirty seconds later than usual and carrying an extra 50 cents over the price of my ticket? I'll tell you what! As i'm cautiously and effortlessly sprinting down the steps, dodging homeless people and school kids, i see a 20,000km line at the ticket machine. However, the line isn't full of people that are as keen to get their tickets as i am, it's full of war vets and other snooze button victims who can't seem to grasp the concept of the fucking train is coming and i'm going to kick the shins out of whoever is in front of me at the ticket machine if i miss my train. As the screeching of the train's brakes near the station, i'm standing at the ticket machine, fumbling awkwardly for my change as beads of sweat begin to congregate around my forehead. Here's the clincher though. Once i've paid my dues, the ticket machine takes on the form of a fucking prehistoric Epson dot matrix printer and every second of the thirty it takes to print is another pin in the loosely threaded cushion that is my patience. As i hear my train take off with me not on it i contemplate two scenarios. A). Breaking down in tears as the camera slowly spirals away in birds eye view or B). decimating 12 separate shin bones to the point of decimation.

After five of the most inconvenient minutes of my entire life i alight the next train and the platform turns into a multicultural bloodbath. My personal space was invaded by every country on the map. I didn't even have to walk onto the train, i just stood there and allowed the tide of jerk to sweep me into the mobile sardine tin full of more jerk. When you are on a packed train, the worst traits of humanity are laid out in front of you. Bad breath, gingivitis, protruding nose hair follicles, embarassingly oversized briefcases, backpackers, the clinically obese and school children all form together in a gelatinous glob of skin and leather and i'm trapped in it for the next 15 minutes. There's a human male standing next to me, sweating it out in his business attire and reading some lame book about even lamer issues by an author with a full degree in lameology. He drops his book once and as he bends down to pick it up, his backside rubs against my male, heterosexual human leg. It's uncomfortable the first time but then he does it again for reasons unknown and it reaches a completely different level of discomfort and all of a sudden i feel like i'm in one of those club videos where the rapper is yelling "DROP THAT ASS TO THE FLOOR BITCH, NOW PICK THAT MOTHERFUCKER UP etc etc", except it's not a girl dropping her ass and picking it up all over me in the club, it's a fat businessman and his bible of lame on a train full of other sweaty businessman.

It's not all bad i guess. I did get to listen in on an enthralling conversation between some Scotch College alumni about the size of their school bags and the contents of their lunch boxes. They were quite articulate considering their age and how stupid they were but what really blew my mind was that the token Asian friend's nickname was 'Short Stack'. Seriously, how pleased would you be during the ceremonial nickname delegation at the start of the year and you got 'Short Stack'. The kid had his nickname proudly displayed on the front pocket of his medium sized school bag in permanent white-out accompanied by a totally sweet checkerboard print in the bottom left corner, which was also composed with white-out and some black artline 70. Stack was also rocking a PSP slim on a heavy duty Yu-gi-oh key chain and had it carelessly dangling out the side pocket like he didn't even care, like a PSP ain't shit. It was the greatest thing i have ever seen on a train.

If you tried mugging a guy named 'Short Stack' all your homies would probably be like "yo, i don't think you know who that is, duke. That's motherfucking 'Short Stack".

Go away for now.

Been gaming a-lot lately. As much as i'd love to blog about gaming all day, that's my special time and is really none of your business except for when i post about it and make it your business. My blog/real life friend Jimmy hats on the other hand, has been leading a relatively tumbleweed-free existence this week, particularly on one Wednesday night/morning during the week in which i'm posting this post in.

He was just maxing at his house like "whatevs, this is pretty chill i guess. Maybe i'll get a phone call from Gracey and go play chess with a founding member of Hip-hop's most iconic group who is just as well known for his production and rapping skills as he is for his chess-playing skills. I'll just act like it was another day for me because it was and i'll let him win because i'm a nice guy and then i'll make him read my journal and write raps in it while blonde-haired peasants orally pleasure his entourage in the hallways of the hotel i played chess with him in".

Jimmy plays chess with RZA.

When i heard about this, i shat so many bricks that i could have built an entire brick shithouse with brickshits to spare. The remaining shitbricks could've been deposited in the brick shithouse i'd constructed from said shitbricks.

Shit.

Parting is such sweet sorrow.

It's a sad day for styrofoam cup manufacturers and rap bloggers alike. Forever the trend-setter, Lil Wayne took advantage of current technology this evening and live blogged his final hours before a 10 month reputation building holiday at the well-known Riker's Island resort. It was an emotional and heart-warming address, hosted by Weezy's protege 'Lil Twist', as Wayne touched on important issues like Lil Twist's sex life, the lack of women in the studio and his hair. Almost as entertaining was the live commentary box on the side which allowed Weezy's semi-literate, completely delusional legion of fans spew all sorts of entertaining rhetoric that had me looking left and right throughout the entire video.

Wayne will be sadly missed in particular by myself as it's another month or so before his next mixtape drops and i'm running low on rap metaphors to apply to daily life and females in particular. In between wiping the tears from my eyes and blowing my nose, I took the liberty of copy and pasting a large portion of the broadcast to tide myself over until he is released.

"We at 20,000 baby, we at 20,000".

"If you out there lil baby, hey lil baby".

"Shout out to the girl in the club the other night with my name in her mouth.....i forgot her name".

"Shout out to the other white girls, .....colour.....you gotta be specific in this world".

"This is the last time you gon' see me for a long time. This is history actually".

"This lil wayne featuring my hair".

"I'm really feelin' my hair".

"Sheena say, when i do my hair like this, i look like Sha-nay-nay. It's not a good thing to look like".

"Look at my shit sticking to one side like Milli Vanilli though."

This is Lil' Twist, he was pretty cool for the most part and was wearing a 'Matix' hat. Matix is a popular skateboarding brand, which i'm sure is more a tribute to Terry Kennedy's brand of skate-rapping than say, Alex Olson's brand of actual skateboarding. Not sure why i picked Alex Olson, he's probably the whitest actual skateboarder i can think of right now.

Wayne knows fuck all about computers, but he managed to find the camera to give his viewers a glimpse of that shiny, $100,000 smile we've become accustomed to.

I think he was reading the comments here. He's probably amazed that his computer-savvy fanbase are able to even create an AIM account with all the horrendous spelling mistakes and abbreviations they were advertising to him and the other 20,000 people watching the live feed.

'Soldrboyy' here actually believes that crashing a car and possibly dying will do his career more justice than going to jail. What else do you expect from someone that spells 'boy' with two y's?
Parker felt it necessary to comment on the lack of females in the video. Video vixens don't normally appear in pre-jail blog announcements but what's more amusing is the lack of females in Parker's profile picture. I found this pretty amusing. CAPS LOCK ALWAYS LOOKS FUNNY BECAUSE IT LOOKS LIKE THE PERSON IS SCREAMING AND LAUGHING AND HAVING A GREAT TIME AT THEIR COMPUTER.No you don't. You don't even have a face or clothes on.Of course it's residing. What else does hair do? Recede, perhaps?No comment. Your name is juicy.You have to give it to this guy. He's currently under the impression that Lil Twist is going to see the comment and be all "holy shit, Wayne come look at this guy! I think he's for real, let's get him in the studio even though you're about to go to jail for a year!"
Fat Joe made an appearance to promote his music and also hug Lil Wayne twice. Fat Joe looks like a really nice guy in real life.

Only Lil Wayne can get away with departing for jail in a fucking Bugatti. This freeze frame alone pretty much justifies my love for the Cash Money paper machine.

:(

Tender moments.

It's a known fact that if you ever plan anything, your mind sends invisible shockwaves through the time/space continuum and immediately alters your future to the opposite effect of your initial idea. Much like the time travel bible, Back to the Future, if you try and manipulate a present that doesn't exist yet you're guaranteed to get your shit ruined in the future for messing with something that seems pretty content on running at it's own pace. Take a look at where planning got Johnny during his weekend.

Friday night: "Fuck yeah. I'm going to drink 80 beers tonight, go to the club and take home a female will proceed to willingly have sex with me without the application of money or begging. She will then leave before i wake up tomorrow morning and message me later that night when i'm back in my comfort zone."

Big mistake Johnny. Now that you've sent those shockwaves out your night isn't quite going to pan out as you'd planned.

Saturday morning: "Wow, i really should have made some dinner before i drank all that beer. Probably should've gone home and changed the shirt that i vomited on while i was in the taxi as a result of all the beer i drunk, then i might've woken up with that girl i like instead of two of my best friends (who are both dudes and also covered in vomit).

The best times are the ones that aren't planned. Everybody loves ninjas because they rely on the element of surprise and are completely unpredictable and undeniably precise at the same time. Spontaneity is like chilli sauce, you're not sure where it's going to take you, but you know you'll be satisfied later on in one way or another. It was this age-old axiom that saw me unexpectedly partaking in the best concert i've ever been to during the weekend just passed. Aside from not being pre-meditated, this throwdown made all other attempts at festivals look like attempts for a wide range of reasons, which also weren't planned.

1. It was free.
Before i turned 24, i was blind to the unadulterated pointlessness of spending upwards of $150 to go to an un-furnished block of land, wait in a bunch of lines and have my ears blown out by poorly engineered speakers and free spirits dripping in sweat, bourbon and urine. Leaving a venue with a full wallet is only bettered by leaving with a venue with two full wallets.

2. I was drinking for the event's entirety and it cost me $12.
Of all the concerts i've been to, my favourite type would have to be the ones that have a single alcohol stand in a really convenient position at the back of the venue. Nothing gets me more excited about being outdoors than waiting in a line full of paralytic assholes for 3 hours to be met with another less paralytic but more deaf asshole who can only give me two light beers if i pay the equivalent of a carton of full strength beers and submit a piece of my soul upon exit. I definitely don't hate it and never wish bad things on everyone there.

3. I got to climb up and sit in a tree without feeling like one of those assholes that tries to climb a tree to recapture his youth.
I never see climbable trees anymore. Maybe as i've aged my eye for sturdy branches and level up potential has faded, or maybe i just don't care anymore. Regardless, i can't describe the convenience that the tree i climbed yesterday provided. The branch that myself and the tree climbing collective were perched on was not only extremely comfortable, perhaps even moreso than the ground we were previously seated on, but it also gave us a perfect view of the peasants on ground level and just enough distance for us to pass judgement on them without being heard.

4. At any given moment, there was about 13-15 attendees max, perfect weather and a that whole sunlight through the green canopy thing going on.
It's pretty simple really. Because there was less than 50, 000 people there, the odds of me encountering any assholes was cut considerably and i made two successful toilet breaks within record time. There was also no wind. This was especially convenient because wind ruins everything, including windsurfing, which will never look stylish.

5. There was no bad music.
For some reason, people like to cry about potential clashes of artists during their concert exploits. I didn't have to worry about this because while there were multiple DJ's present, they all got along and shared the equipment provided. There was no one running around stressing like "OMG if i go and see DJ fuckshit now then i'm going to miss MC Buttface and his totally irrelevant lyrics that i can totally relate to!" The only clashes i've ever dealt with are calendar clashes. If i'm at point A when music festival B is proceeding, i will be this many kilometres away from it, with my satisfaction determined by how many kills i get on whichever game i choose to play.

All in all, it was one of the better Sundays in recent memory. I chilled so hard that i almost reverse stressed myself out and no-one annoyed me. Here are some photos.
Not a punter in sight.

Bayonetta: Jesus in cd form?

I've been playing this game called 'Bayonetta' for the last few weeks and after a few weeks of deliberation i've come to a conclusion regarding it's subject matter, graphical quality, soundtrack and completely fair ratio of explosions to boners.

Bayonetta is the greatest game ever made. Any game made before Bayonetta is now null and void and any games released in the future, regardless of technological advancements, will suck immensely in comparison to Bayonetta. The only exceptions to these findings are games i have previously referred to as the best games ever. If you disagree with this you either haven't played Bayonetta yet or you quietly wept in your girlfriend's lap after watching The Notebook.

I could write a bible-sized publication discussing the pros of Bayonetta and it would be just as relevant as the bible and possibly more successful, but that isn't the Bayonetta way. Instead, i'll keep it short, explosive, stabby and as non-descriptive as possible.

Bayonetta doesn't discriminate.
Before Bayonetta the only themes video games explored were war, street fighting, romance and teamwork. After playing Bayonetta, these themes look stale and uninspired in retrospect and when i look back at all the time i've wasted contributing to the above causes, i feel simple-minded and uneducated. At any given moment, Bayonetta explores witchcraft, magic, religion, breakdancing, identity, parenthood, hair management, weapon customization, geography, fitness training, different flavoured lollipops, air combos and scarves. This leads to a unique experience in which you'll be riding a motorcycle at 500km/h, upside down on an exploding freeway, ducking axes swung by monolithic demi-gods, taking pop shots at mythical armor-clad angels and dropping seriously sassy one-liners amongst all the destruction like it's an everyday occurrence which, for Bayonetta, wouldn't be far from the exact truth. This all happens while you learn about European geography and religious theories completely made up by the developers of the game, which is all much easier to digest when you realize that they themselves are gods for creating such a perfect product.

Bayonetta is sex on legs/wheels/invisible floating scripture platforms.
I remember the first time i saw Lara Croft crawl through an inhumanely tight cavity during the early hours of Tomb Raider 2. The camera purposely zoomed straight onto her backside as it shuffled left and right and the whole experience was made all the more erotic by the moaning sounds she made as she traversed the unrealistically long tunnel. The tunnel in question served absolutely no purpose in the game (unless you count a pointless artifact as purpose), aside from making the player feel uncomfortable for lusting after a bunch of carefully placed polygons and a pair of hip-mounted pistols with unlimited ammo. Since then, games featuring outrageously proportioned female protagonists have come and go, but none have managed to capture the beauty and perfection of the female form like Bayonetta has.

Do you like bi-sexual, pistol wielding, black-haired librarian ninja experts in leather jumpsuits? Me too. Look at how she defiantly perches atop that infant angel statue in a union of religion and sexuality never captured before on any medium aside from xbox 360 and Playstation 3. She's not all guns and angels though, the developers spent just as much time on a few other vitals that serve as intriguing interruptions during the quieter moments of the game, of which there are zero.

The first one being her lower back region.
If i was to make an estimate, i'd say the creators of this game spent just as much time creating Bayonetta's backside as they did the entire structure of the game. Time well spent considering i spent so much time watching Bayonetta strut (her walk will soon be emulated on catwalks around the world) around the opening levels that i didn't even notice the amazing architecture surrounding her strut and completely forgot that i was meant to be saving hell from renegade angels and buying weapons from the demonic doppleganger of Samuel L. Jackson's long lost brother from Pulp Fiction while he drops one-liners that would convert a room full of feminist lesbians to his religion of cool.

The other just as important attributes being her hair and her heels, both of which i'm yet to distinguish in terms of awesomeness and convenience.

Some girls like to do their hair before they go out at night or after a shower. That's kind of cool i guess. Bayonetta on the other hand prefers to use her hair for more worthy causes, like morphing it into demonic, restaurant-sized limbs and creatures specifically summoned for the disposal of other demonic creatures. For some reason she turns naked while all of this happens, which is marginally cooler than aforementioned summoning. Bayonetta's choice of footwear is gun-mounted high heels that aren't out yet. When she isn't transforming into a panther or a peacock blackbird, Bayonetta does a-lot of running and jumping. Whilst high heels may not be the most ideal form of footwear for her lifestyle choices, the guns attached to them are more than capable of mutilating any foes that try and interrupt her sexy travels. Fashionistas pay attention, gun-heels are the next must have item to heat up that winter wardrobe.

Bayonetta actually has a storyline. I'm dead serious.
It's true. I didn't notice it myself, but apparently Bayonetta is set in a fictional European city called 'Vigrid' during an inter-dimensional war between 'Paradiso' (heaven), Purgatorio (purgatory) and 'Inferno' (hell). Bayonetta's own past is shrouded in mystery and she has no idea who she is or why she's so attractive and the game is based around uncovering these minor discrepancies. There's a love interest in there somewhere as well but the guy is a total pussy and i wish he'd just leave Bayonetta alone to her devices. I would have been just as satisfied with the game had it not come with a plot and more weapons in it's place but the cut-scenes do serve as a vehicle for high levels of sexual innuendo between Bayonetta and her less attractive nemesis, Jeanne.

Oh, you're still here.
Fine. As i strolled through the winding, cracked path of another golden sanctuary surrounded by exotic flora and ancient architecture, the heavens above shot luminescent rays of sunlight onto the pebbled floor, doves chirped gleefully in the trees above and angelic hymns echoed in the distance, a soft breeze kindly ushered me towards an unfamiliar portal that i was currently unfamiliar with. I remembered that i was Bayonetta and i do what i want so i stepped through the portal and found myself immedieately confronted with a medusa-faced titan the size of the planet i was currently inhibiting, covered sky to ground in an impenetrable ancient stone that i would soon have to penetrate. He had an impressive crown on and was really pissed off at me for some reason and before he even gave an epic speech, his spiky vines of hatred flew towards me at unidentifiable speeds and i knew it was go time. As i dodged his unreasonable onslaught, he produced and then extended what looked like a miniature version of his head attached to his ancient oesophagus with intentions of doing me harm. I had other intentions for this unannounced entry. As i disposed of his spiky friends and their sharp teeth, i slowed down time for a few seconds, jumped onto and sprinted down his stony offspring in slow motion and laid the finishing touches to his face with my swords, guns and hair. As his blood and ancient entrails filled the skies and he apologized for the inconvenience, I was suddenly at peace and totally glad i'd left that fucking boring old garden.

10/10.
That's right, perfect. Sell your current library and buy it. If you already own it, fuck off, she's mine.

I'm a whiny little baby.

I'm going to apologize in advance for this post. I love that the Sleep Talkin' Man is bringing all these people happiness and fulfilling their presumably empty lives through seemingly comedic one liners and cheap merchandise displaying said one liners, but as one Neil Godwin famously reminded David Brent, "Beware of false prophets".

According to Wikipedia, "Sleep is a naturally recurring state of relatively suspended sensory and motor activity, characterized by total or partial unconsciousness and the inactivity of nearly all voluntary muscles.^[1] It is distinguished from quiet wakefulness by a decreased ability to react to stimuli, and it is more easily reversible than hibernation or coma. It is observed in all mammals, all birds, and many reptiles, amphibians, and fish".

True for the most part, but what Wikipedia and it's user-friendly database fail to mention is that Sleep is very much the best thing ever and comparable only to Modern Warfare 2 and hibernation in terms of playability and application to every day life. Sleep is why i go to bed at night and the reason i get up in the morning. It is the only bodily function that allows me to simultaneously exist in a state of complete comfort and have a perfectly legitimate excuse to not interact with anyone or do any chores. Sleep is what happens while you're not making other plans.

Then you've got dreams, don't get me started on dreams! It's like, sleep is awesome enough by itself and then a dream comes along and says "hey, want me to take that enjoyment and relaxation you're currently experiencing and supersize the shit out of it for no extra cost or labour?". I would actually pay for dreams given the proposition, i would physically put money into a coin slot on my bedside table and be able to sleep at night knowing that i'd contributed to a worthy cause. I mean, i've been getting all these lazers, dinosaurs, explosions, celebrity encounters and babes for free all this time. You probably wouldn't steal a handbag, but i know you'd legitimately pay for a good dream about a lazer-mounted babe who escorts you to a Hollywood awards ceremony on a Stegosaurus in a tuxedo, narrowly dodging carefully placed explosions the whole way there and even a bit on the way back.

But what about sleep-talking? That's awesome too right?

Only just. According to me, sleep-talking is the mysterious and mostly absent cousin of dreams. It's mystery lies in our lack of knowledge regarding it's implications and the fact that (aside from sleep-walking, which is just ridiculous) it is the only action that can safely traverse between the realm of the living and the kingdom of sleep. The problem is, this divine occurrence is a little inconsistent when it comes to the relevance of it's messages to whoever should be fortunate or conscious enough to hear it. I could count the amount of times i've heard someone talking in their sleep on one hand and i could count the amount of times i've been told that i've done so myself on the other with a few fingers to spare.

I've been alive for just over 24 years now and from what i can gather of that 24 years, the only things people sleep-talk about are swans or requests for whomever they are interacting with in their dream to stop doing whatever it is they are doing. Ask them the day after and they'll deny all knowledge in an attempt to be cute, or to cover up how deranged they actually are. Swans aren't mythical creatures and you got molested, just admit it. Amazingly enough, any other interactions with sleep-talkers have consisted primarily mumbled conversations and nonsensical jargon, both of which lead me to the conclusion that while sleep-talking is hilarious and pointless, it has no worthy application in the realm of the living and any claims otherwise are generally presented with no evidence and the craving of attention.

Along comes the Sleep Talkin' Man. This blog has been getting in my face every time i open my internet browser for the last couple of weeks now. Through fear of feeling like an un-popcultured douchebag in the real world, i went and checked it out this morning to educate myself on this man and his apparent harnessing of talking while he sleeps. The concept is pretty darling and simple, wife marries husband, husband talks during sleep, wife enjoys and records on internet, world laughs and I become suspicious.

Here are some of the things he's (hasn't) said in his sleep:

"Just look at yourself. Yeah, now look at me. You don't stand a chance. It must suck to be you, I'm sure."

"I am awe-some. Deal with it fucker!"

"Yes I'm sad, but if you stood further away, I'd be happier. No, further away. Well, let's face it, just fucking CUNT OFF! Thank you, I appreciate it."

"I haven't put on weight. Your eyes are fat."

So where's "I go from zero to bitch in 5 seconds" or "Horn broken, watch for finger"? I will say it once, then i'll leave it be, there is no way this man is saying these things in his sleep. The quotes on this page are the brainchild of two or more people sitting in a living room and concocting one liners based on randomly generated objects and entities or just straight ripping off popular rear window decals and passing it off as some guy sleep talking and then merchandising the fuck out of it.

"sO whAt iF it fAke?? at lEasT its mAking LarFs!!

Which brings me to my second and least important point. It's not funny. It's arrogant without the bite, it's vulgar without the strategically placed expletives, it's childish , it's sexist without being good at being sexist and it's intangible without being imaginative, which is why i can totally understand that it's so annoyingly popular. The movie Idiocracy instantly springs to mind. Don't slingshot the porcupine, it's cunt spikes will pop your round balloon face, actually, do it, i'll look better as a result. Please do it. Otter alliance! Sabotage the dolphin's pasta recipes, they can't win! Can you hold my anus please? Don't steal it, it's my anus. Blah blah blah, slingshots, blah blah blah, farm animal, blah blah blah, Nevada, blah blah, random verb.

It's not even the lack of humour that dissapoints me. Sure, when i landed on the page i was expecting some kind of laughter induced cardiac arrest because that's what was advertised to me by it's sizable readership, but that's not why i'm complaining today. Actually, it is, and more. Not only are Adam and Karen making some serious bank by creating happiness under false pretenses, but soon enough i'm going to be seeing people walking around in shirts that say "I can't control the kittens, too many whiskers" or "fuck off and let me bask in the glory of being me", which in turn puts an automatic 'F' on society's 2010 report card and shoots any chances we had of being taken seriously by the rest of the universe.

Which reminds me:
The aliens are laughing at me! Fuck. Get me an ocean anenome so i can scare them off! Anenome the enemies! Jam on dashboards and sandy goblins with illuminated extremities!

Omegle, Street Fighter and racial enlightenment.

I was just driving around the other day, minding my own business or whatever and out of nowhere this d-bag in a matte black Toyota Hilux pulls in front of me and makes a huge scene about the fact that he's a reckless d-bag in a Toyota Hilux. I did what any normal person would do and stewed in the car, swearing to myself and imagining what i'd do if i had a cache of heat-seeking missiles waiting for him just after the Vincent St dismount, when i notice a rather medium-sized sticker carelessly placed somewhere between the bottom and the left of the Hilux's back windshield.

"Fuck off, we're full".

Haha. This guy is awesome. He doesn't want anyone else in his car, even though he's the only person in it which is totally ironic and means that he prefers to be by himself. I wonder what that Australia decal around the saying means though? Oh that's right, it means that he isn't being ironic, he's being an overtly racist redneck shitdick. The sticker actually means that matte black Hilux is of the belief that his current country of residence is at maximum capacity and can't possibly accommodate any more residents. Remember when you were a young boy in primary school and you derived great satisfaction from the exclusion of girls from activities and/or secret clubs because you thought they were of lesser hygiene quality and therefore unable to adapt to the living conditions of said clubs or activities? You were actually being more mature than matte black Hilux.

It's like when i play Street Fighter 4. Some people just pick Ryu all the time because he's Japanese and a good world warrior, whereas i like to apply an even spread mentality to my character selection and on any given day you could find me riding with Ryu, Ken, Dhalsim, Sagat, Zangief or even Chun-Li (who is a girl), not because i'm anti-racism, but because i am pro-humanity and also because i hate people that only pick Ryu in Street Fighter (wow, you've mastered the fireball and all it's functions and applications, you are a boring world warrior). Not only do i get to master all of their technical retaliations and combo ranges, i also learn a little about each culture and become a better person after each game. Imagine if Ryu, Dhalsim and Zangief pulled up behind matte black hilux? I think after all the 17 hit Hadouken's, spinning piledrivers and yoga flames, they'd be pretty sad.

They wouldn't leave the country though, which means that matte black hilux's sticker is not only racist, but also especially pointless. To realize that these mobile racists actually believe that someone is going to leave a country because they saw a sticker on someone's car is to realize how mentally and socially incapable they actually are. "Oh man, that guy's sticker says "we grew here, you flew here", better call Damayanti, we're heading back to India". Well done, matte black hilux! That's one less quiet, hard-working Indian family for you to worry about! Let's do some bog laps around Curtin University and see if we can't clear out some Japanese students!

Don't take my word for it though. I'm hardly the first and final word in diplomacy and race relations, take these Omegle confessions as the final nails in the coffin to matte black Hilux's cause and why his efforts are completely in vain.

Here's a conversation i had with a lovely chap from Greece who had recently migrated to the U.S. Before he started getting gay on me, he actually made a valid point.

You: if you were driving around in the U.S. and you saw a sticker on the back of someone's car that said either "fuck off, we're full" or "if you don't like it, leave", would you be offended?

Stranger: No. I'm not easily offended

Stranger: I feel as though it's a waste of time.

Stranger: i have better things to consume my time with and engulf myself in

Stranger: get me?

You: couldn't agree more

Stranger: hahahaha did you ask that because i'm technically a foreigner?

You: well, i would have asked regardless, the fact that you're technically a foreigner does make for a beneficial variable.

Stranger: I concur.

Stranger: I love the fact that you're not intellectually deprived.

Stranger: We are soulmates <3 hahahahaa

Here's a statement from a young Hispanic fellow, who shared a similar view to myself on the application of these stickers to one's Hilux.

You: no. what i want to ask you is, would you display a sticker on the back of your car saying either "fuck off, we're full" or "if you don't like it, leave", as a stance on other races migrating to your country?

Stranger: uhm no considering that i am hispanic.

You: ok, so if you saw a born and bred american citizen displaying the same sticker on their car, would you be offended?

Stranger: most likely

Stranger: why do you display a sticker saying "fuck off we're full"?

You: Absolutely not. I live in Australia and i see these stickers all the time. If i was strong, i'd uppercut anyone i saw with one of these stickers.

Stranger: ohhh, whew, i thought you were some white supremacist

With this one i just went straight out and played the victim. The results speak for themselves.

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

Stranger: aloha

You: thank god you're here!

Stranger: ??

You: the last guy i spoke to was such a dick

Stranger: why wad he say to u

You: he said he has a sticker on the back of his car that says "fuck off, we're full".

Stranger: wow hes a fag

Couldn't have said it better myself.