Location: Minnesota, United States
Cost of the War in Iraq
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Tuesday, September 27, 2005

The Brown Bunny

The Brown Bunny (2004) - complete shite, from beginning to end. Scooter and I watched it all the way through (though increasingly on FF, like Jesus Christ, Vampire Hunter) to see (1) if ANYTHING AT ALL would happen, and (2) what was supposedly controversial about it.
Scooter's first comment, once we realized the main character (played by the director, Vincent Gallo, of Buffalo 66, which was a GOOD film) was going to do a rather large amount of driving, was that perhaps this was the "flip side" of Fat Girl, (thanks, LissyJo) the French film about driving, teenage sex ("it doesn't count if it's in the butt") and murder. That is, perhaps Brown Bunny is the story from the killer's point of view: he drives around a lot, and then kills some people at a rest stop. Alas, it was worse than that.

Bud Clay, a competitive road bike racer (a losing one), embarks on a cross-country journey to lose another lame race on his souped-up crotch rocket, and hooks up with women named after flowers along the way while he's really searching for Daisy, his real love. I'm not spoilering this, because if after I have told you it's a -98 on a 1-10 point scale, you still watch it, it's your own bloody fault. Daisy's actually dead, having choked to death on her own vomit after being raped while unconscious at some party while drunk and high (while pregnant with Bud's child). Being dead, however, doesn't stop her from engaging in a prolonged session of oral sex with Bud (her on him) in a freakishly brightly lit hotel room and then whinging a lot, (but only slightly less than he does). This was and hour and ten minutes of driving and making out with skanky women named after flora, and twenty minutes of porn. Yes, porn. There's no question Cloe Sevigny was actually [ahem] engaged with Vincent gallo.

Daisy's mom doesn't know why she never calls her anymore, but she continues to take care of her brown bunny. Yah, f*ing deep.

Why only -98? Let's see. Jesus Christ, Vampire Hunter (see above) was worse: it gets a -99. Of course, it had Christ Kung Fu and singing (!), so maybe I ought to reverse those ratings. There's got to be something worse out there. Scooter also said he'd have more fun hitting himself with a stick than I would watching The Cave on DVD, so it must have been pretty bad, too. I know he's still cranky about it.

Scooter's post. I'll go read it now...bet he says similar things?

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Pile of Weiners

I received a message on my answering machine (yes, I said "machine" - it's old tech) from my grandmother on Sunday. Eryn and I had been at her house all day on Saturday, and apparently forgot something, as her message said she had "found a pile of weiners" in her fridge. It was a funny sentence coming from my grandmother (funny-disturbing and funny-haha at the same time).

I had a pretty good idea she meant we'd left the remainder of the package of hot dogs I'd brought for Eryn, but in case I was mistaken, I googled "pile of weiners." The search returned a suprisingly long list. The best item was this:

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

"Go F--- yourself, Mr. Cheney"

AMERICABlog has an upsetting list of quotes of people responding to Katrina and its handling by the government.

This one is my favorite by W.:
Out of the rubbles of Trent Lott's house -- he's lost his entire house -- there's going to be a fantastic house. And I'm looking forward to sitting on the porch. (Sept 2)

And this, my favorite of all the others:
The guy who runs this building I'm in, emergency management, he's responsible for everything. His mother was trapped in a St. Bernard nursing home and every day she called him and said, 'Are you coming, son? Is somebody coming?' [starting to cry] And he said, 'Yeah, Mama, somebody's coming to get you. Somebody's coming to get you on Tuesday. Somebody's coming to get you on Wednesday. Somebody's coming to get you on Thursday. Somebody's coming to get you on Friday.' And she drowned Friday night. She drowned Friday night." -- Jefferson Parish president Aaron Broussard, Sept. 4, on NBC's "Meet the Press"
But, hey, W. took responsibility today for the failures "at all levels of government." Oh, well, all right then.

Friday, September 09, 2005

At least we were first

I was outside in the hammock with Eryn last night. We had this exchange:

Me: Mom and Dad love you lots, did you know that?
Eryn: Yes, and I love you too.
Eryn: And we love Sandy (dog).
Eryn: And we love Cleo (cat).
Eryn: And I love that bucket over there.

Thursday, September 08, 2005

She couldn't be expected to rescue anyone in these

Could she?

Maybe everyone has her all wrong, and she was buying the rain boots.

Sunday, September 04, 2005

What a Load

A few days before NOLA disappeared under the water, I heard this new patriotic song on the radio. The dj said it was called "Arlington," and I thought maybe it would be a nice tribute song, or maybe just something pretty about a dead loved one. No, it was this load of nonsense from Trace Adkins:

"I never thought that this is where I'd settle down,
I thought I'd die an old man back in my hometown,
They gave me this plot of land, me and some other men, for a job well done,
there's a big white house sits on a hill just up the road,
the man inside he cried the day they brought me home,
they folded up a flag and told my mom and dad, we're proud of your son

"And I'm proud to be on this peaceful piece of property,
I'm on sacred ground and I'm in the best of company,
I'm thankful for those things I've done,
I can rest in peice, I'm one of the chosen ones, I made it to Arlington

"I remember daddy brought me here when I was eight,
we searched all day to find out where my granddad lay,
and when we finally found that cross,
he said, "son this is what it cost to keep us free" Now here I am,
a thousand stones away from him,
he reconized me on the first day I came in,
and it gave me a chill when he clicked his heels, and saluted me.

"and everytime I hear twenty-one guns,
I know they brought another hero home to us

we're thankful for those thankful for the things we've done,
we can rest in peace, 'cause we are the chosen ones,
we made it to arlington, yea dust to dust,
don't cry for us, we made it to Arlington"

Um. No, see, the man in the big white house on the hill isn't interested in the shockingly high death toll within the military. He doesn't care one bit about the deaths of the Iraqis who are trying to bring some semblance of order to their country. He sure as hell doesn't care about any any one particular death.

Peaceful piece of property? I would think the Vietnam vets buried there might be wandering constantly, mourning the treatment their surviving fellows in arms received upon returning from serving their country and the politics that got them there in the first place; one might also expect the Iraq/Afghanistan dead aren't especially happy, either.

"We are the chosen ones...we made it to Arlington." Yes, the Iraq/Afghanistan dead are ecstatic they gave their lives for this venture. "Making it" to Arlington is so much better than living with the knowledge of one's service.

I've got no truk with good patriotic songs. Lee Greenwood's homage to the country and its servicepeople is lovely and affecting, no matter how many times I hear it. Maybe that's because it doesn't elevate death in the service of one's country above the freedoms such service is meant to protect - it merely thanks those who have served and states, simply, that this is a good place to be. "God Bless the U.S.A." makes me feel good. Damn "Arlington" song just makes me cranky.