Sunday, February 20, 2011

The Art of the Silver Tongue.

Or maybe slippery tongue. Silver might not get you to where you're going.

No, I'm not referring to being able to use words to sway people, though that is beneficial to say the least and nobody can really argue that point. No, I'm sticking to the gutter where I belong and am referring to the act(s) of Oral Sex.

This one will be short as it applies to every conceivable scenario I can imagine equally.

For those of you who live under a rock, or just like my explanations of the obvious, Oral Sex is giving another human(usually) sexual pleasure using your mouth through a combination of licking, kissing, and sucking. Use of hands is optional but generally appreciated. Mastery of Oral Sex will get you far in life, maybe. At the very least it will make you a lot of friends and keep your lovers happy and content. So feel free to learn and practice the art of giving head for your day to day life. You may need to rely on it some day.

Watch as George Carlin sums up the value of said skill in rather straight forward words and imagery. George lives his life by the unwritten book. Enjoy.

So, go out and find someone to practice on today. Any women aged 18 through 35, I will be glad to be your study partner.

How does this transfer to the Apocalypse? Well extrapolate on George Carlin's words and just imagine that You're in Barter Town, Aunty Entity asks you what you can do to get your car back... You may be slow of speech, but she'd still be impressed that you were quick of tongue. Boom, you gots your car back and a tank full of the juice, and you managed to avoid fighting Blaster-Master in Thunderdome. Which is cool, cause even in a shit-hole the likes of BarterTown hitting retards still isn't cool. Especially retards with super-human strength and access to chainsaws.

Sometimes it's just wiser to take one in the mouth. Thanks Mr. Carlin.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Did I hear something about busting a cherry?

Cherry 2000 – 1986

The setting for Cherry 2000 is post-apocalyptic America, specifically the state of Nevada. Why anyone would want to live in Nevada after the apocalypse, I don't know. But then, it is an 80s PA movie, so it doesn't really have to make much sense. Honestly, that isn't the worst offense against logic that the movie made. Living in hot, arid Nevada after the bombs fall is just one of those things I 'spose. The movie involves gangs of ruffians, fast cars and the desert, so it could just be another pale imitation of Road Warrior with some vague attempts at humor and satire thrown into the mix. Make sure you throw in some western trappings and themes (desert location, saloon scene, lone gun-slinger, roving bandits, romance between a the weak character in need of saving and the strong character who rescues them).

Sometime in the vague and not to distant future, after humanity has acquired the scientific and technological Holy Grail (for those who are wondering, the highest that we can hope for as a species is sex-bots) we seem to go and obliterate ourselves in a nuclear war. Not too badly, I would guess because we're still producing new models of cars and the main character lives in a city with futuristic looking buildings. But hey, we clobbered ourselves pretty good. Which lead to the shortage of natural resources. You hear that? They rolled up two apocalypses into one! Booyeah!

Though shortages of material goods often follow catastrophic warfare. Just look at Europe after World War 2. It was years before they were able to climb out of the pit of conflict. These shortages lead to a vast wave of recycling fervor as America attempts to find and re-use everything from extension cords to robots. This has given rise to a professional field called Trackers. Basically they're scavengers who leave civilization to go out and find the remnants of the old world and bring them back for sale. Trackers aren't well liked by the wilderness dwellers. Course the hicks out in the back woods don't really seem to like much of anything.

And so our story begins. Our hero. No, I won't go that way. The douche that the story revolves around is an executive of some sorts in the recycling industry. He hangs out all day in a futuristic warehouse that is packed with old stuff that people have carried in. After all, recycling is now considered to be a patriotic and civic duty of all Americans. Actually, I can't really be sarcastic about that, as I share that sentiment here and now.

I would think that a large variety of sex-bots available folks would be much more relaxed and less likely to fling bombs at one another. Femme-bots that come in all shapes and sizes for Of course it had to have killed the prostitution trade and everything that was connected with it. But hey, fewer diseases and less violence against women more than makes up for that in my mind. Although I'm sure some feminists will disagree, but that's to be expected. I expect that sex-bots were also made for the female clientèle, though that doesn't seem to be explored in the film.

What is explored is the twisted relations between men and women in this PA future. Don't quite know why. Were women reduced drastically in number like in A Boy and His Dog? Where nearly the entire female half of the species was obliterated when the cities of the world were nuked (the men, the movie explained, were off to war and out of the cities) Thus making female sexual partners that much more difficult to attain? That would be a shitty future, no women. Give me the plague-poc where the majority of men are killed off, leaving a lucky handful to strive to repopulate the world... he he he. Reliving those high school fantasies.

Trash King must be high up in the corporate world, as he has a nice new car and an expensive house. He also has a beautiful wife. One that is both beautiful and submissive and attentive to his every need. Some guys dream about finding a girl like that. And I'm pretty sure that was what led to the design and construction of Cherry 2000. Yes folks, we have a title. Cherry 2000 was the top of the line sex bot. This disappointed me, since given Melanie Griffith on the cover, with her bright red hair, I had assumed that she would be Cherry 2000. Nope, the title goes to the sex toy. I thought it was pretty clear that she was a robot, due to the rather simple and cliché 50s housewife way that she responded to outside stimuli. Her dialogue was rather simple and flawed. I hope this was intentional, rather than just bad writing and acting. One of those happy accidents that really drains the meaning from the scene. Dude, this guy is living the life that most lonely Japanese men would kill for.(Including Mythbuster's Grant) He's living with a beautiful robot.

But Trash King comes home from work and is waited on hand and foot by the gadget until after a few minutes when some things naturally lead to another between a boy and his anatomically perfect representation of female perfection molded out of plastic and rubber – well there's a scene where they're rolling about lustfully in a pool of water, and boom, she short-circuits and dies in his arms.

Holy shit, electronics and water don't mix you say? What madness and wizardry is this yon heretic? Begone ore face ye inquisition! Yeah, you have a sex-bot that you can kiss and spill other fluids into(thus requiring still other fluids to perpetuate the cycle and clean up after), but she's not waterproof? Really? Now that's just poor engineering. Like the herring lined chainsaw of a few years ago.

He loses his woman/robot/wife and is forced back out into the real world of male-female relationship dynamics. Something I personally know nothing about, and share the man's anxiety. Here for ya bro! His co-workers drag his mopey ass out to a club to try to hook up with something that doesn't require WD-40 and a car battery. Yes, in Club Skank, the car batteries and lubricating compounds are optional. During the club scene, all possible sexual relationships are mediated by lawyers. Needless to say, this is a moment, one of many in this movie, of utter fail for our Douche. But really, I can see why he would prefer his sex-bot over the real women of the day.

*Note, it appears that the personality disk is rather rare, and people are willing to kill for one. It would seem that the general consensus is that the Cherry 2000 model is better than the real thing. Wonder where I can buy one.

Here's where the plot and setting start to come together. Cherry is a rare model. She's broken beyond repair, except for her personality chip. Now Trash King needs to venture forth to the wilderness and go on his coming-of-age journey.

Enter Melanie Griffith as the hottie/badass of the movie. That's right, Melanie Griffith. As an action hero. She was pretty in this movie, which shouldn't matter too much. But I do prefer watching pretty women on screen than those who aren't. I'm thinking with the little-head again, but that's just how it is. But really, Melanie Griffith as an action hero? With her girlish voice? Something in this equation is creating cognitive dissidence. More than anything else in the movie, this makes me wonder if there is a lot of satire going on. To miss-cast a part so completely. Or were these types of casting decisions made by utterly incompetent suits? I just can't lay my finger on what it is.

Trash King clearly agrees with my assessment about Melanie's qualifications for the role of gun-toting mercenary. Really, she lives in Nevada and she's pale as hell. How does that work? She says that she mostly works at night, since coming out in the daylight means being seen and attacked, but still. She has to get some sun some time. The human body needs that shit. This must really blow Trash King's mind because he walks out and instead searches for someone he feels will fit his ideal description of a proper scavenger.

Just in time for the required scene in the bar. Picture the bar scene from Three Amigos, with stranger costumes and less impact. Then fast forward, for very little meaningful information is imparted. All we learn is that the outlands are a wretched hive of scum and villany. This serves to drive him back to Melanie to hire her and thus set up their romantic under-tensions as she impresses him with her absurd awesomeness and the fact that she's warm and breathing. While he impresses her with... With... Fucked if I know. Maybe he has a ten inch trouser snake stashed down one of his legs. Else he seems to be rather useless and EMO from the start.

Time after time there is something I don't understand about PA movies. The outfits. I realize that clothes are rather scarce, due to the lack of industry and manufacturing and all. This makes some for some necessity for creative costuming. But, what the fuck? Have things gotten so bad that nobody can find a farking pair of jeans and a t-shirt? Millions of them get made every year. Tens of millions more pairs have to be sitting in closets all over the world. Do you really need to dress up as a gay cowboy or a baseball player? Is this a case of “This is who I am world! Accept me!” And what the hell was up with the dude who looked like he was wearing a diving helmet? How is that even remotely practical? Isn't that like saying “Well, I got nothing else to put on, so I better just strap this old ball and chain to my leg!”

Out in the desert we meet the villain when Trash King falls into his hands due in part to personal incompetence and an ambush combined with a well placed 2x4 to the head. Onto act 3.

The most enjoyable aspect of the movie for me was the villain played by Tim Thomerson. The bizarre, blonde psychopath who leads a gang of Hawaiian shirt wearing goons. He runs a compound full of women and children, killing any scavenger who enters his territory. What's wonderful is that he isn't at all dark and brooding, he's cheerful and helpful. Even at the point where he shoots a captured tracker in the face with an arrow. What a riot. He sees himself as “Judge Jury and executioner” in those there parts. But at least he's a step up from the last utterly useless psycho and he doesn't just kill everyone he encounters. Only trackers. He even keeps the women he finds alive and makes them a relatively happy part of his community. He makes every day seem like a 4th of July party.

For a post-apocalyptic psycho, he ain't half bad.

On his compound we see why Trash King turned away from the female half of the species and leaped straight into the arms of sweet robot love. We meet one of his ex's. The Bitch is nuts. She's obsessed with sandwiches, and honestly she's mentally akin to the robot Cherry 2000 in her personality quirks. Making Trash King's obvious transition from flesh to silicone that much easier to understand.

Trashy finds the secret robotic sex shop after being rescued and dragged out there by Melanie, setting everything up for the final conflict with Tim and his gang of rascals.

I won't ruin the end of the movie for you. Really it should be blazing obvious what is bound to happen. This is after all an 80s movie. There is action, and choices are made. Some unbelievable action sequences. Not unbelievably awesome, but rather lame and poorly thought out.

What did we learn for Cherry 2000. Well, once again rope is awesome. Melanie Griffith makes heavy use of it from repelling to lassoing. Tying knots and generally carrying on awesome. She proves yet again how a mastery of the roped skills set will get you out about any situation. Rock on redhaired warrior woman! Rock on.

Mechanics. Melanie is a Jill of all Trades indeed. She takes a busted down old airplane and rebuilds it with her bare hands. Seriously she must have telekinetic powers because she doesn't even use a wrench. Then she flies the damn thing. That's PA hardcore. A tip of the hat to you lady.

Piloting aircraft. I'll get to this one in full in another post. Both of the main characters are adept at this. Who knew? Up to this point Trashy's only skills have been whining, getting into trouble and making cliche statements such as "Are you sure about this".

The art of catching and cooking food. When you live in a shit-hole like Nevada this is more important than ever. Food is rare, and what you have you'll need to make palatable.

I can't rate this one. I had to stop watching it at least twice and do something else. I don't know if it was just that bad or I was feeling restless. It's fairly amusing, so feel free to give it a go. It is available for streaming for the time being on the Netflix.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Junk in the trunk.

Gear 2: The slightly less essential.

A Compass – One that indicates direction rather than the kind you use to make circles in Geometry. Though the second might come in handy too. Picture this, Sartre, Master of the Great Wilderness is standing over you and gloating after knocking you down for the third time. “Oh, what's this?” He asks as he points to your compass and laughs. “Looks like we dine on math nerd tonight!” His famous last words as the point enters his brain, after taking a quick detour through his left eye. To hell with it. Take both kinds of Compasses along. They'll come in handy.

Now, you might be asking, why would you need a compass to help navigate? Why not use a gps device? A fair question, at least for a while. About half of the gps satellites that were originally put into orbit have failed within a couple of decades. Unless something changes soon, we're going to have some major infrastructure failures. Failures that will gleefully direct you down that dark dirt road that ends up at the front door of some deranged hillbillies.

Some Sort of Digging Tool – Yessirree Bob, the ability to burrow into the earth is one not to be taken too lightly. And unless you're half grizzly bear, you're going to need an implement to aid in your endeavors. IE a shovel. Having a quick and safe way to dig holes will always be desirable. Whether it is foxholes or treasure pits or shallow graves. Not to mention wells and swimming pools. Everyone should have a shovel at hand. Hell, even one of those plastic beach shovels might do! Not so much for digging though, but more for getting out of unpleasant tasks. Strategic incompetence is the key. El Líder orders you to dig a hole. You whip out a pink, plastic beach shovel. El Líder slaps their forehead and finds someone who isn't an utter moron to do the work. You win. Unless, you then get a couple bullets in the brain pan as a quick way for the group to cut some dead weight. But hey, at least you didn't have to dig your own grave right?

String – that bit of line that we use to tease cats with. It's like rope light. But teasing cats is only one minor application that string can be used for. Certainly the most entertaining. I mean, look how Mister Mittens tries to get it. Soooo cute! Who's a good kitty? Back to... Oh Mister Mittens, you wacky kitty! You sure do love that string. Oh yeah, it can be used for snares and stuff too. Binding small objects. Whatever. Kitties love string, and sometimes that's all that matters!

Whiskey flask – Water is all fine and good, but some might want to opt for something a little stronger while trudging constantly towards the day after tomorrow. The magical bottle of forgetfulness might be a desirable to take the edge off those cold nights.

Tarp – Have you ever been out camping when it started raining? I have, and this is one set of circumstances when having a tarp on hand made my day... less shitty. Basically a tarp is a big, heavy-duty sheet of plastic, a tarp has several uses that can't be ignored. And, get this, most of them are combined with rope. Fuck yeah! Everything from an emergency shelter or rainwater collector, to a makeshift sail. Hell, you might even be able to make a dress out of one, which will totally save the day when your friends/family is caught by some renegade soldiers, and you have to (cross?)dress yourself up in order to get inside their camp and save your people.

A Time Piece – Generally speaking? Next to absolutely useless. Toss your Alarm clock into the garbage, stomp on it, and return to natural time. For now, we only have Morning, Noon and Night. Sleep when you're tired, eat when your hungry and all the rest. For the first time in centuries, freedom! Cheers! The only time a watch might come in handy is during one of those 'synchronize watches' sequences during a rescue scene. But I don't know anyone detail-oriented enough to adhere to such a tight schedule. My people make plans more along the lines of “Go. Shoot Gun.” On the other hand, if you're running one of those I Am Legend type deals where you need to get back inside your fortress before the sun sets, then having a time piece on hand is hella-useful. The same goes for keeping track of the tides if you've taken to clean ocean living.

You can also use a watch as a rather crude form of compass. That's a standard watch with a hour and minute hand. Or you could try it with a digital, I guess. Good luck with that.

I amend my previous statement. Watches do have use. I just don't plan to carry one.

Duct tape - There are no doubt hundreds of tired jokes attempting to dismiss the truly awesome powers of the Duct Tape. Well, there. Haters will hate. And they can goto hell. Duct tape forever!

A Towel – Any really hoopy frood knows the value of always packing a towel. Nuff said.

Cargo Pants – I have a pair. Call em my adventure pants and I include them in my necessary gear when I go out to foreign places like Comic Conventions and Rennfests. Really, who knows when they'll need some pockets for that valuable storage real estate for those very important small items you possess. This extra storage is important because there are numerous situations where you might lose your backpack. Jumping off a cliff into a river. Letting it go when some atomic mutants catch hold of it. Having it stolen while visiting the wasteland town populated fully by thieves and scoundrels. Anything that involves taking your backpack off when you rest at the end of a long hike. Pants? You really have to try hard to lose them. I know. I've tried. Los Pantalones Son El Diablo!

One of those Slavekini wearing Hotties from ComicCon – If possible, I'd rather like to get her before the 'pocalypse happens. If you know one in need of a good home, feel free to let me know.