SODOMIA - THE LAND OF DREAMS

After much interior debate, I've decided to upload an extremely amateurish short film thingy I whacked together one rainy day about 2 or so years ago.

The basic premise is that it's a parody on all those tourism incentive films and advertisements, much like the much maligned "Where the bloody hell are ya?" Campaign utilised by Australia, only not as well made or performed, and with scratchy audio to boot.

Adrift in a sea of douchejuice

It's funny... I've literally just finished having an altercation with my neighbour, a rather torrid exchange of words climaxing in a brief scuffle, and now, revelling in the quick flurry of anectdotes that inevitably get babbled excitedly by people who were present, I'm noticing major discrepancies in each person's account.
It's not the first time either, pretty much every fistfight I've ever been involved in, once the time for regaling others with tales of the battle comes around, everyone seems to have experienced a completely different fight.
Bystanders have misconceptions over who threw first, etc. Whilst the people in the thick of it seem to have the best recollection. Case in point: Midway through the angry trading of words, the words "Your mother is a whore" came up, as it inevitably does when arguing against those of lesser intelligence. This was uttered in the presence of not only my mother, but also her husband and my rather superhumanly strong younger sister.
The whore card was not exactly the smartest card to play...

So, my stepfather and sister took off after him, filled with righteous indignation and rage, whilst I scurried along behind them, intending to intercept this freight train hurtling towards assault charge city.
My stepfather reached him, both of their arms cocked back, fists trembling, and I smoothly inserted myself between them like a suave douchebag cutting in on your date at the prom. I pushed my stepfather back, to prevent anything physical from occurring, then figured "Fuck it", Grabbed my neighbour in a headlock and delivered a mortal Kombat 3 uppercut directly to his pug face. He, and this is in all seriousness, flew back, knocked off of his feet, landed on the ground and started scurrying away on his ass like a cockroach. See, I'm not exactly the pinnacle of strength, and this guy outweighs me by about 20 or so kilos, yet I knocked the dust out of him as easy as can be. It's even more amusing considering that he was goading me earlier on, telling me that any time I wanted to bring it, to bring it. So after flooring him like a red headed stepchild, I felt a massive wave of remorse, even more so ten seconds later when his child wandered outside to play and saw her daddy knocked on his ass.

But, blow by blow account aside, I'll return to the point. Since this moment of anger, many tales have circulated through the household about what occurred, yet each seems to be padded with embellishments and misconceptions. I've heard everything from: My stepfather was the one who knocked him down, via a hurricane kick followed by him bellowing "Hadouken!", That my neighbougbour struck first and made suggestive comments to my dog, that my crippling attack looked like the last drunken lurch of Oliver Reed, etc.
Rumours and conjecture abounds after anything of great interest... It's even got me questioning my own recollections.

Anyway, I just thought I'd ruminate on the differing accounts of the situation, and express my great respect for anyone who has to take down firsthand accounts of any catastrophe, they clearly have their work cut out, especially if the main participants cannot agree on what exactly occurred, as is the case here.
I thought we all saw the world through the same eyes, more or less, but everyone seems to interpret each situation differently.
Hmmm... Deep.

Bored...

CELEBMONSTROSITY - What we all aspire to be.




Quick doodle I did whilst waiting for Macguyver to come on.

There were more, but goshdarnit, If my scanner aint possessed then I dunno what's wrong with it. Shucks!

Things we've learnt from Grim Reaper...

So anyway, I came across this kick ass metal video a few years ago, it's by a pretty obscure British band by the name of Grim Reaper, obscure for a reason, that reason being mediocrity.
However, as terrible as their music may be (To me, at least) the film clip that they churned out for a track called "Fear no evil" is an eighties metal masterpiece.

The basic premise, as far as I can tell, involves a group of "True" metal warriors staging a siege on a medieval sweatshop, which is ran by a giant Man-Wolf and the Grim Reaper himself. Christ only knows as to why exactly Wolfy McMantits and the personification of Death would need to be operating an illegal sweatshop, but by the way that the pudgy, pasty faced lead singer dramatically points at Death like he'd raped his mother seems to indicate that they were probably manufacturing bootleg Grim Reaper (The band) merchandise.

Anyway, after viewing this clip (Which is included below) with almost religious fanaticism, I decided to compile this list:

Thing's we've learnt from Grim Reaper, or Why Grim Reaper should've been in charge of the liberation of Iraq, not Bush.

1:As clearly illustrated by the opening montage of shots, when staging an attack on purveyors of false metal, It's always important to drive a heavily armoured, semi-aquatic personnel carrier with big fuck-off spikes and chains adorning it. It is also important to then negate the intended effect of the armour by riding atop it as if it was an iron steed, letting all and sundry know that your armour is completely useless.
Of course, who needs armour when your skin is composed of crystallised guitar solos and your perm is the mythical perm of power?

Speaking of, immaculate perms are a definite yes, nothing strikes fear into the heart of a slave trading wolf creature like perfectly coiled, bouncy curls. They also add gravity to dramatic shots of leather clad brothers of metal. Don't let that flaming war torch get too close to your hairsprayed masterpiece though, or else the battle for metal will be lost before it even starts!

Another thing, drive through every single body of water you come across, everything from a mudpuddle to a river of Slayer blood. Why? Because you can. Heavily armoured Semi amphibious personnel carriers don't come cheap, flaunt that shit!

2: If you're part man, part wolf, spend most of your day practising shirtless armcrossing, this will make up two thirds of your work day.

3. If you're a leather vest clad henchmen, spend all day perfecting your half assed, backhanded swipe (0:59) so when the time comes to use it on an unruly slave, you'll make it look completely effortless... As in, you're too fucking lazy to even make an effort.
Seriously, how limpwristed is he?

4. If you point dramatically into the distance every few seconds, even if you're miles away from anyone or anything, evil forces can sense your rocking righteousness and will exchange torrid looks of brownie baking fear. This is especially effective if you're a fat, three foot high pasty faced dwarf with phenomenal vocal pitch and an ill fitting studded leather girdle.

5. It's customary to announce your arrival with a guy in crotch huggers hoisting his guitar into the air (1:08), every battle since Napoleon's day has opened the same way.

6.(1:30) I don't really have anything I've learnt from this section, except to possibly not hire Grim Reaper's choreographer. The lethargic way Tubby halts that slave on the wheel and then breaks his chains WITH THE POWER OF ROCK is especially ridiculous. The look on slaveboy's face pretty much mirrors my reaction to this chode load of a scene.

7. (1:53) Bahahahahaha... Sorry. When face to face with overwhelming odds, the only logical thing to do is pirouette awkwardly and thrust your fist into the air, smiting all with the awesome power of perm. This is doubly effective if you're joined by a buddy who's like three seconds out of time and can barely stand beneath the weight of his upright guitar. This will make any Wolfy McMantits in the vicinity raise his arms with angry disapproval.

8. (2:06- 2:36) When pitted against a beast (Not just wolfmen!) in a circle-fight to the death, it's a little known fact that you can slay it armed solely with some tasty riffs. The more frenetically you noodle that fretboard, the more you clog it's arteries with the fatty deposits of metal, eventually causing a shredding lick induced cardiac arrest.
That's right. You can KILL with the power of Metal. Remember that.

9: After your buddy destroys his foe with rock, it's NOT cool to prance about in front of the people you just liberated, pumping your fists and gyrating your hips. It's just not.
And how funny is it that he opens his arms up as if inviting hugs like six times, yet everyone avoids him like the fucking plague. "We don't care if you just saved us, no hugs for you Porky!"


10: Death's a pussy. After watching his old buddy Cocknuckle McWolfatron get ROCKED to death (3:30)(Heh heh, rocked, get it? What? How could you miss that witty visual pun?)
He just stands there and lets that little leather clad down syndrome afflicted blonde guy point his finger and run his mouth, then he turns away and DISAPPEARS? What the fuck? He's DEATH, you know, the one constant in life, the immutable force of life and death personified, and he runs away from a quartet of four British wankers who haven't spent a day in the sun since preschool?
Really?
Wow. I guess even I underestimated the sheer magnitude of the power of Metal. Look at Tubby's face at the very end. That IS metal. Death is not.

That is all.



(Kumquat Turtleloaf is currently destroying his brain with cannabinoids whilst trying not to laugh hysterically at every known picture of Manowar.)