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Aesop Rock - None Shall Pass
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Music
- Hits: 810
I discovered this a bit late and can't stop listening:
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If you liked that, try listening to his The Impossible Kid - He's remade "The Shining" with Playmobil figures!
Montague Summers - The Vampire, His Kith and Kin, and others
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Books
- Hits: 769
I've been looking for these forever, no luck. So after years of searching I went online - tried to support the locals, but they were far more expensive, with shipping prohibitive, so onto Amazon where I discover that I have a gift card outstanding - and today they arrive:
I love this guy. And soon enough I'll be in business...
To those of you who laugh, I ask you - who do you think lives HERE:
The House That Jack Built
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Film
- Hits: 757
Before I begin, there will be spoilers. And do not watch this movie.
That said, it's a good movie. It's very well made. Lars Von Trier has painted a very accurate and disturbing portrayal of your typical, brighter than average serial killer.
In so doing he has created a very, very, evil film.
The plot - the adventures of a serial killer named "Jack" - well, as grim as it is to suggest it's enacted daily. But we know this, we don't need a movie about it. How many movies are there about Serial Killers - from the camp - "Silence of the Lambs" to "Henry, Portrait of a Serial Killer" or "Man Bites Dog" or "M" or any of a hundred other films, the genre, the subject has been thoroughly and well explored.
The filming - amoral, almost glamorizing or celebrating Jack's killings. Allowing Jack to speak to Vergil, to "explain" himself - is wrong. We don't need his explanations. No explanation, expatiation or narration can excuse this. And here is where I take issue - details of real serial killings are often scant for the good reason they don't care to inspire copycats. This movie will inspire copycats.
Do not watch this movie. It is very disturbing. It is very accurate. You will learn nothing. It is pornographic in it's savagery, in it's desire to offend and terrorize the audience more and more. You don't need this. You don't want to become jaded to this. The people that watch this movie, that enjoy it, they won't be the audience that applauds the references to "The Inferno", if they were they would slap Lars Von Trier silly over the ending (it should have ended some 30 seconds earlier, his final scene is a transparently cheap attempt to add some morality or justice to a movie that clearly has none).
DeSade - for all his filth and corruption, had an underlying morality, and wrote within his tastes to explore larger philosophical issues. This movie does not do this. Or perhaps it does, and in my initial offense I've overlooked it, but ----
Matt Damon acts very convincingly the role. I don't know how he did this without suffering some "collateral damage". To be in a movie that goes this deep into it's subject matter, well, it has to take it's toll.
This is an evil movie. There is no need for it. It's gratuitous, it's like watching ISIS beheading people, or footage of accidents in which no one survives, or videos of torture or a hundred other such violations, it revolts, it disturbs, it churns the stomach and imagination, and worst of all it gives an ironic voice to that class of criminal from whom no voice should be heard. There is no morality to it - perhaps that's it's greatness, but I would disagree.
This is an evil movie. Do not watch this. I've warned you.
75 Years Old
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: People
- Hits: 749
Most people I know, especially in the Kootenays, 75, it's middle aged. I think of my Father - older, sure, but not that old. Or Dagmar, 75 years old, bitching about not having sex for 18 years, her choice, she doesn't really like her partner, smoking a joint behind the restaurant, then tearing off to chain herself to a tree or protest something or another, 75 years young, you'd look at her and guess late 50's, tops, she's still a beauty, with more energy than most women half her age.
So it's a bit of a disappointment when I track down Batshit, 75 years as well, in his squalid apartment in Nelson. It's been a few months, good to see him, but not like this. His apartment filled with junk, boxes, he's sprawled on a tangle of sheets, chip wrappers, food tins, the place is a hole - he's hung a bed-sheet in front of the window, the entire winter he's not gone out, bathed, showered, filthy, unflushed shit in the toilet, watching old movies on the TV beside his bed...
I knew this move to Nelson was a bad idea. He's glad to see me, totters about getting dressed, the place stinks, there's no way to describe it, the mess, and his movements, slow, confused, complaining about every imaginary ache and pain, he's the worst picture of 75 years old you can imagine...
We go for coffee, catch up, he's got some scrolls for me. And he needs cigarettes, and a bag of stone ground coffee, and I order him a sandwich which he nibbles briefly on and then demands a take-out bag for, he'll eat it later, then he wants a bottle of liquor, and a toy in the antique shop window, and he wants some farm fresh eggs and thick sliced bacon and some canvas and it goes on and on and on and it's too much, I can't afford this shortest of visits, get him back to the car, he's complaining, tottering, doesn't want to walk up the hill, I'm pissed, he's become lazy, old, way before his years and I'm not playing this game, don't want to enable this charade of untimely old age...
...a lady watches me in horror as I drag him up the hill, swearing at him all the way - "Elder Abuse" I explain gently as I pass, he's got me annoyed, he's down a little self-pitying well, but I can tell he liked this little foray into downtown, me, not so much, I'll see him maybe again in the spring if he lives but it's become a duty, not a pleasure...
He's been adding the postcards I've been sending into his artwork...which is good...
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