We have started watching another anime series – Blassreiter. I think it is about people who are possessed by motorcycles.
They come to be possessed by way of infection, so it has sort of a zombie/vampire feeling to it. Also, the motorcycles might be demons. Also, it is set in Germany, so the demons proclaim themselves to be the master race.
This morning I walked past my roomba, and noticed that it was sitting slightly off the charger and every led on it was blinking frantically. I nudged the little robot back up on to its dock, which resulted in it announcing something about a charge error – first in English, and then (presumably) repeating it in French. I started pressing buttons trying to cancel out the message, which resulted in it continuing to complain exclusively in French.
It eventually quieted down, and I flipped it over to see if it had something blocking the charger connection points. As soon as I flipped it over and started brushing at the connections, the thing goes completely franco-batfuck again, flashes all of its lights once or twice and then dies completely. It is now sitting on the charge dock not charging, so I am pretty sure I witnessed some insane robot death-rattle.
When I was a kid, I assumed I would have robot servants at my disposal. I never really contemplated the scenario in which they go mad and scream at me in French.
Unless it is already a horror movie. Then it gets rebooted as a romantic comedy.
Anyway, here is a trailer for Gobstopper. And a trailer is all you will ever get, because it is clearly too awesome to ever get made.
I absolutely love Willy Wonka and the Chocolate factory, and after watching this, I realize that the original needs little editing to actually be a horror movie. Gene Wilder excels at standing around looking like a serial killer in any event.
The Johnny Depp version really didn’t leave a noticeable impression on me beyond “this is certainly a movie.” Like, I couldn’t even be bothered to hate it. That might just be my opinion being skewed toward the originals though, as I held basically the same sentiment toward the latest versions of both Star Trek and A Nightmare on Elm Street.
When I watched Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory as a kid, I thought that the grandparents were all in the same bed because their legs were fused together somehow. I guess I didn’t really put together that it was more likely that they were unable to afford more beds, or more rooms in which to put them. Because of the poverty. Consequently, when Charlie brings the ticket home, and his grandfather gets up and starts dancing around, I thought the ticket was way more significant than it actually was. I remember feeling very bad for the other grandparents, because they were still stuck to each other, and there were no more tickets left.
I decided to take advantage of the incredibly beautiful day by busting out the jogging shoes. I got about two blocks before my body cried out “WTF are you doing fatty? You haven’t gone jogging in like a year. Your ass is chair-shaped now. This is too much activity.” I looked to my brain for some motivational assistance, but it was all “Don’t look at me. All I know is your paladin isn’t going to level herself.” However, I was already outside, so I decided to press on.
I believe this was the universe’s way of rewarding me:
They have a box for special driver instructions. People should take advantage of that more often.
In other recent(ish) news, someone left mushrooms on my car. I do not know why.
It is possible that this was a bizarre act of aggression on the part of some cranky harpies that live across the street from us. John parked behind the BMW of one of their friends one evening when he got home from work. She walks across the street and asks him if he could park somewhere else, because she was not sure if there was enough room for her to get out of the parking space. John took a moment to assess the space she actually had, factored in the complete lack of empty spaces on our street, then looked at the girl and asked “Do you live here?” To which she replies “No, I’m just visiting.” At that point John bid her good evening and headed into the apartment.
I have my doubts as to the act of aggression theory, for a couple of reasons.
1.) I did not actually see them do it.
2.) Putting mushrooms on someone’s car is not a particularly aggressive act
I know I’ll sleep better knowing that the wealthy relieve themselves in total comfort. On a balcony, apparently. And why not? Because if you’re the sort of asshole that buys a $6400 toilet, you are probably the sort of asshole that thinks you are being benevolent by allowing the plebs to witness your morning shit.
At least the money isn’t going to social programs.
Oh hey, did you know they made Atlas Shrugged into a movie?