When life gives you unadulterated idiocy...drink poisonous lemonade.

Holy scoliosis Margaret Thatcher!

Its been a brief and tumultuous millennia since I have forged a post from the steel and circuit sparks that fight a never-ending war over spacial significance inside my cerebral cortex.

Despite the aforementioned lapse, I could hold off no longer.  There was another instance at work which caused me to laugh and mock incessantly in my head, while still maintaining a reserved, intact and calm exterior, which was undeniably difficult. 

Person #1-"Its when...when god makes you lemons...wait, when god makes you lemons...

Person #2- "I think its when god gives you oranges...

Person #1- "Its oranges?

Person #2- "I think its when god gives you oranges make orange juice."

100% correct

Upon witnessing this conversation...

Orange you glad I didn't hit myself with a wrench?

About an hour after this event, I passed by someone as this holy ghost of unintelligible horror fell our of their face:

"Hello is for horses."

HELLO 

IS 

FOR 

HORSES??

wow.

As per my knowledge, I do know that horses are generally a rather cordial bunch but last I heard, they don't greet you with speech, thereby rending this statement so dim and doltish that it ranks among my top 20 most horrific sentences to ever leak from betwixt ones lips.

So I am at work yesterday, and a co-worker hits me with this gem.
She exclaims to me with a certain empty headed zest, "you look like an actor."
I reply " a specific one? Or do I somehow embody the profession?"
To which she states "Brenden Fraser...or a young Nicholas Cage."
I am struck frozen... for 3 reasons;

1) I look nothing like Brendan Fraser
2) I look nothing like a young Nicholas Cage
3) They look nothing like one another.

So, thanks for this lovely exchange,
Sincerely,
Brendan Cage

last few things I've read and enjoyed.

World War Z

By. Max Brooks

novel (352 pgs)

Incredibly detailed, perfectly formulated, 100% believable, and its an account of a World War in which it is the world (vs) the zombie epidemic. Flawlessly put together first sentence to last.





The Filth
Complete Comic Series (316 pgs)
Written by. Grant Morrison
Art by. Chris Weston & Gary Erskine

If Phillip K. Dick had a fascination with all things known to the world as demoralizing and then, with said fascination, and a few hits of mescaline, decided to write a comic series, The Filth is what you'd get. Without a doubt some of the most wacked out stuff I have ever read in my life. Hard to grasp at some points, great art throughout and an interesting journey to say the least.




Bite Club
Complete Comic Series (272 pgs)
Written by. Howard Chaykin & David Tischman
Art by. David Hahn

Absolutely loved the first half, genius stuff; had me completely hooked from the first page. A very original take on the very old and very often humdrum and generic vampire theme. Quality art and coloring throughout, loved the first 200 pages, thought the end fell a little flat.



The Surrogates

Written by. Robert Venditti
Art by. Brett Weldele
Complete Comic Series (193 pgs)

see Eddie P's feature on it to read more

Brilliant sci-fi story in a world in which 'brilliant' and 'sci fi' don't usually co-exist within the same paragraph anymore. The art is very intriguing, very low key, dark in shade and simplistic, pages almost look like paintined sketches; unlike anything I've come across.





Written by. Jeph Loeb
Art by. Jim Lee & Scott Williams
Part 1 of 2 (128 pgs)

Solid Batman story, nothing groundbreaking so far; still very enjoyable. Apmed for part deux.

But it says king of the world on my t-shirt.

I've heard many people say, "Normal is overrated." I loathe when that phrase falls out of peoples faces. Don't even get me started on t-shirts with slogans like 'Normal people worry me.' Do they? Do they really? What is it about these so called 'normal' people that makes you worry so. Could it be that maybe you think that, is some way, you may fit into this horrendous category and therefore need to buy a t-shirt in order to proudly proclaim, to yourself, and everyone in the mall that day, that you're the physical manifestation of the road less traveled. Because as we all know, t-shirts are truth indelibly printed on cloth. Clear evidence of this are those classy T's proclaiming things like 'Tell your Mom I said thanks!.' As much as you don't want to believe it, this man had sex with your Mother, it says so on his t-shirt.
Returning to my original thesis; stating the phrase 'normal is overrated' will bring bloody, unrivaled, apocalyptic fury to this sphere with no mercy. Its turned into one of those horrifying things people say when they want to label stupidity, or ignorant bliss under the convenient umbrella of 'weird'. Being normal is no longer overrated because every damn person says that it is, and therefore, it becomes a normal thing to say, which causes a dichotomy and makes the two switch places and inevitably, creates a rift in the space time continuum, people start to walk on their hands, fish walk out of the ocean on their fins juggling pieces of coral and singing 'head like a hole' in reverse, hermit crabs become extremely friendly and grow to the size of dogs and eventually, replace them. People start to speak only in palindromes and anagrams and it takes weeks to have a simple conversation, George W Bush wins the Nobel Prize, Texas becomes a haven for gay liberals, Medical Doctor falls to the third most respected profession behind Sanitation worker and Coffee Barista and it is all...your...fault.

And now... The bi-weekly, sometimes weekly, ocasionaly semi-annual, rarely tri-daily new feature: Eddie P Speaks on Comics

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Binary Code Translation- Vol. Peanut Butter Funk

The Surrogates

Brian Venditti

Brett Weldele

Top Shelf Productions

The Surrogates is an interesting one-take about a possible future where people have their everyday activities handled by android replicas of themselves while controlling each decision online. These replicas are called ‘surrogates’ and they are modeled after whatever the user wishes, most times the younger version of the user in their prime. People have grown accustomed to this way of living, many never leave their homes. The story unfolds with a ‘murder’ of two surrogates and the investigation that takes place by a cop named Agent Greer. The users, themselves, are unaffected by these “murders” and only their surrogate bodies are destroyed. The murders continue and Greer finds himself closer to uncovering plots by those who wish to live in the more traditional way, without surrogates. Venditti’s take on 2054 is interesting in that many things aren’t extremely different than the world we live today. I find the best sci-fi realizations of the future are grounded in this reality and not with an abundance of unbelievable gadgets and space ships. The idea of a surrogate is not so farfetched, especially in the age where internet message boards are loaded with people spewing their opinions while hiding behind their avatars. These surrogates are a form of virtual reality and interactions can be described as live versions of chat room role playing. One of the memorable things I took from Venditti’s novel was the artwork of Brett Weldele. His panes are simple, filled with smears of water color blanketed by characters of ink. The tone of the book is dreary and washed out; the lack of color is more effective to the story than panels rich with bright hues. Upon one look at the artwork and one can see that this is not the typical graphic novel. I suggest this novel for the noir detective story but also for the unconventional art work that perfectly matches the tone Venditti and Weldele obviously were trying to achieve. A movie is planned for 2009 and it stars Bruce Willis as Greer. That alone should give you a reason to catch up on this story. A sequel to this is planned for 2009 as well entitled Surrogates 2.0 Flesh and Bone.

E.P.

Nice just isn't enough anymore.

I don't know if it can be pinpointed to an exact moment when the earth shifted or the angle in which we spin on our wonderfully solid axis was altered by .000000000001%. I would surely bet against the notion that this is the way it had been since my days of single digit tomfoolery. I would say it can most likely be attributed to progression in age, intelligence or the inevitable burning off of my patience. Whatever it is that transpired, whatever paradigm shifting occurred to make me perpetually unimpressed with people, it has happened. Nice just isn't enough anymore. Its doesn't just land short, its not anywhere near flirting with the realm of acceptable company. When asked about people recently I find my response to be a resounding 'eh' or synonyms thereof such as 'cool' or 'nice' But when asked if I really like this person, I find it hard to give an accurate answer. Do you like her/him? What does it mean to like someone exactly? Does it mean that I must thoroughly enjoy their company? Can it mean that it doesn't extremely irritate me to be in their presence? I find myself nearly always answering the question of whether or not I like someone with a yes, but most of the time, the positive response can be directly correlated to the fact that I don't particularly 'like' the person whose has proposed the question to me, and therefore would not like the conversation to continue anywhere past my answer. Bottom line is I will take an interesting person over someone who is overtly nice, I will take someone who is possibly a little mentally loose, a blender without a lid if you will, than someone who swims in the community pool of generic conversations. I remember the moment when I realized that nice just wasn't enough for me anymore. I was sitting with my pigmentally challenged friend Brian, at his kitchen table with its lovely flowered table cloth and matching metal yet woodgrain napkin holder when he posed the aforementioned question asking me if I liked a particular person. Since I enjoyed the film Powder, I tend to enjoy the conversations Brian and I have, and so I answered 'no, not really.' To which he replied, "really, why not? He's a nice guy." That right there was the moment, the light bulb over my head, the realization that, as I stated back to the tall drink of skim milk, "nice isn't enough anymore." Instead of going the usual route and starting an argument, he sat back, pondering what I said and shortly after, agreed. For the next 30 minutes or so we began to pick apart, pretty much everyone we know or have came across for various reasons but mainly because they weren't clever enough to be having the same spiteful conversation. This was the moment I realized I was not alone in my new view. 'Others share in my glorious disdain!' I exclaimed, with the vigor of a man who reached the summit of Everest but needed to eat his friend to make it there.
Terms like blank page and vanilla dance a solo tango in my head when the thoughts of these amiable, obliging, peachy people are already doing a meandering Caucasian sway. Soon after, they meet hands and dance the most mundane of Tangos, so gregarious, yet so undeniably unimpressive.

Slumdog Millionaire

For the record, I am a Danny Boyle (the Director) fan, I thoroughly enjoyed Trainspotting, 28 Days Later, Sunshine and thought The Beach was interesting enough. If I had one critique of Boyle' s filmmaking; it would be that, on occasion he relies too heavily on style, placing the epicenter of the film on visual progression and confusion instead of the bare bones story or characters. Well ladies and gentleman; I am very proud to report that Boyle did none of that in this film. All of the things that he has done impeccably well in the past were there and glowing and the surrounding film was nearly flawless. This is, in my far from humble opinion, without a doubt; Danny Boyle's best film, if not the best film of the year.
The story begins with Jamal Malik, an 18 year old orphan brought up in the slums of Mumbai, on India's version of the gameshow Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? Jamal is one question away from the previously foreseen insurmountable goal of winning 20 million rupees. The show breaks, with plans to continue Jamal's quest the following day; however, as he is ushered out he is taken into police custody and charged with cheating under the pretense that there is no conceivable way an orphan from the slums could get all the way to 20 million. What follows is a journey though Jamal Malik's life as he explains how he came to the answers to the questions. The film is perfectly executed, flawlessly paced, very well acted, timelessly structured and stylized, and beautifully shot. I don't know what else you could want from a film. At its center its a love story, on the surrounding layers its a tale of survival, friendship, family,heartbreak and overall, hope. It is a rare occurrence that I give a film this much praise and hype but this one absolutely deserves it.