Coach wants his chocolate, and they’re gonna give it to him.
You know why I’m happy? Because beside this video on YouTube, in the video’s description, the date displays October 22, 2009. That’s today. So therefore…
FUCK YOU, SLOWPOKE.
Also, OMGWTFBBQJIZZINMYPANTSHOLYSHITLEFT4DEAD2INTROMOVIEOMG.
I’m gonna be frank. The only reason why I’m writing this right now is because I have absolutely nothing better to do, and I have a total of 4 posts for this month, which is an unlucky number in Chinese mythology, so I have to stick to my roots and remedy this situation.
Wanna know how I’m gonna do it? Okay. Here’s the deal. I’m gonna write this this blog post, and then I’m gonna publish it to my blog, and then I’m gonna have five blog posts for October. Then, it won’t be an unlucky number beside my archives under October. Problem solved.
Solving problems is a real big thing these days. I mean, we’re surrounded by problems every day, and when you think about it, how many of those problems actually find a solution? Not many. How do you solve world poverty? Fuck if I know. Economic crises? Maybe if I stop spending money? How do I fix that fucking program so it does what its supposed to without me reinstalling and restarting and re-tinkering until my computer crashes and I buy another copy of the program?
See what I mean? I can solve simple problems, like what’s 4 x 5. 20, I think. Yeah, that sounds about right. I can solve problems like figuring out how to survive. I should eat food and drink water and take care of my body if I want to survive. I’d say I’m solving this problem continuously, and doing a damn good job at it.
You know what else I’m good at? Writing. I like to think I’m at least somewhat talented in this area. I can hold my own with a pen and a piece of paper. Give me a thesaurus or a dictionary, and I can pump out a well structured piece of writing fit for scholars. That’s what I am. A scholar. I’m a thinker; an intellectual. Who are you?
You’re a reader, that’s who you are. And that’s a respectable quality, in my opinion. Reading’s a big thing these days. Sure, watching is really the big thing these days, but reading is still up there in the ways to obtain information through your eyes. Well, maybe cause those are the only two ways to obtain information, and reading is really just watching words with your eyes and getting visual information that way but that’s beside the point. The point is if you’re reading this still I congratulate you, you’ve stayed more interested in this than me.
I’m not even writing anything remotely humorous, or enlightening in any way whatsoever. What the fuck am I doing? No, what the fuck are you doing? Why did I add ‘fuck’ in those two questions when it was totally unnecessary? Stop reading this. Right now. I don’t think this is very good for you. I don’t even like reading it myself.
Jeez, what’s gotten into you?
Go back to whatever you were doing, before you hurt yourself.
Thought I’d spread the love across more genres to share. Rap’s been a rather exclusive genre to like, and a massive international culture has revolved around it for decades. Mostly, those interested in rap are interested in African-American culture (Wow, it sounds weird to write politcially correct.) or much of the social history of West Side and East Side black communities.
But this isn’t a post about social history, it’s about rap. So take a listen.
Alright, let’s get some things out of the way first.
1) He’s white. (Bear with me, Erin.)
2) He’s middle-aged. (I know what you’re thinking.)
3) I pretty much disregarded my first paragraph.
Yeah, it’s a white dude from Minneapolis. But I’m not going to compare him to some black rappers or elaborate on how comically white he actually looks. Instead, I’m going to tell you about this beat. And this beat is pretty damn slick. Also, the lyrics. These lyrics flow pretty damn well. Beat & flow. I may be misinformed, and I welcome anyone with extensive knowledge in the subject of rap elements to correct me, but I’m pretty sure those two things compose good rap.
Which is why this music is good, in my opinion. This guy has been underground for more than a decade, and he’s pretty successful by the looks of his Wikipedia page (Everyone should judge a subject’s success by the size of its Wiki page). Most of the songs off his latest album combine pretty interesting instrumentation to create some awesome beats. He tells stories from his raps. He rhymes about his hangovers and his love affairs. He doesn’t do intense social commentary rap or flamboyant gangsta rap. He just raps about normal stuff, almost. That’s pretty cool.
Look, I know he’s white, and I know you’re thinking Lupe Fiasco can school this fool, but work with me here. Racial segregation works both ways. Let’s just all have fun listening to some good rap, regardless. Plus he’s got a black dad, so cut him some slack.
Wow, okay. Maybe I’m stretching it with the racial segregation thing. Just, uhh…
Rap should unite us all? Yeah! Woo!
Check out his latest album When Life Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Shit Gold.
What a sick album name, don’t you think?
Wait, does that mean it’s now a sexilogy? Sounds kinky.
I’ll search up on the proper terminology, but right now I’ll settle on a trilogical sequel to a previous trilogy. Sounds good.
Now onto official business. Yes, slowpoke is in order, but I hardly think it matters anymore at the pace I’m going with this stuff. The popular Resident Evil franchise of games and movies has stemmed from Japanese stardom to the echelons of zombie pop culture in the past decade or so, and I’m not complaining. Even with the first Resident Evil movie, which was so long ago that I can’t even remember most of it, the transcription of game to screen struck home with much of the zombie fanbase in North America and overseas. The result?
This guy.
Proceeds go to charity.
Now, with three movies under his wing, Paul Anderson and the Resident Evil team have decided that this is far from beating a dead horse, and that if there was a horse being beat, it’s a zombie horse and ready to be beat some more. That’s my kind of thinking.
This new instalment, titled Resident Evil: Afterlife was originally in talks starting from 2005, and accumulated into the announcements prior and during the 2009 San Diego Comic-Con (slowwwwwpoke). All cast members had been signed, scripts have been drafted, and Paul Anderson is heading this right up until its release date slated for August 27, 2010.
I’ll get to more exciting news. Afterlife is currently being filmed in none other than the wondrous urban utopia of downtown Toronto, where zombies will most likely meet their match in hardened, ruthless Canadian yuppies. So If you’re in the area, or in the GTA, head down there to catch a glimpse of the cool zombie makeup or Milla Jovovich running down the side of city hall. Boy, that looks fun.
This time Anderson won’t be directing, but honestly I don’t see the impact in that. Who really watches zombie flicks for directing? Chumps, that’s who. So take that, snobby film critics. I’ll take my zombies fast or slow, infected or deceased, rabid or shambling. Who gives a crap? People are being eaten, that’s all we’ll ever need.
Anderson also states that he considers Afterlife to be a start of a ‘brand new trilogy’ for the franchise. He also says he’s excited. Zombies are always exciting. Zombiesssss. Yay. =D
You can catch more info on the upcoming film at ShockTillYouDrop or Bloody Disgusting.
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I’ve discovered that the proper term is ‘hexalogy’, not sexilogy.
Man, do I feel silly.
Damn it.
Damn it, damn it.
Don't stop. Listen for it. Listen for the sound.
Not now. You can't right now. Not your time. Not your place.
Listen for it. The sound. The soft pulse. Feel the sweat roll down your brow.
Touch the cold ground. Smell the air.
Smells like death.
No.
No, it's not. Don't let it draw you. Ignore the smell.
Feel the pavement. Spread your hands. Ground is wet.
Hear the sounds. Hear your ears ringing. Your heart pounding.
Soft, erratic.
The pain.
Feel the pain. It doesn't hurt. Not enough. Not now. Your lungs are fine.
They’re weak.
They’re fine. Don't let it stop you.
I'm tired.
Stay awake. Open your eyes.
I can't.
You can.
Too hard.
Keep trying. See everything around you. See it. Open your eyes.
See, damn it. Hear. Touch. Fight.
Live.
You know what I hate? Obligations. And responsibility.
The child of the two can be seen in my impressive number of reviews from last month.
That’s a $10 in my online wallet. Or is it $15? Whatever.
