Below is a clip from Kiki's Delivery Service, a pretty sweet movie about a witch going off on her own at 13 for a traditional first crack at an independent livelihood. Disney's got the rights to it and decided upon some adaptation. Count the subtitles vs. what's said.
It really is a lovely and sweet movie, but the English version has Phil Hartman as a yappy cat and the space to just look at the pictures and figure it out is gone. Subtitles for a non-yappy version absent from the DVD I rented. Fuck you Disney. (You know, if I was a Disney attorney I might have "fuck you Disney" as a web alert.)
Thing 2:
Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs is entertaining and silly fun. I laughed. SEEN IN GLORIOUS 2D. This guy at the New York Post begs to differ: glasses don't turn him on and I don't know what the fuck he's talking about with the global warming bullshit.
Thing 3:
Some heartless individual informed the little one that flowers die in the fall.
19 comments:
re: subtitles and yapping - maybe it's MondayNightFootballification rather than Disneyfication. If there aren't words (spoken or plastered), nothing is happening (or if it is happening, the viewer is clearly not capable of figuring it out).
re: flowers dying in the fall - check out some info on seeds, dormancy, etc. - you should be able to turn this into a story about winter/spring, renewal, etc. (or you could bribe your way out of it)
Can't walk the flower deaths back with cycle talk, unfortunately. It's a FLOWER HOLOCAUST.
One hesitates to think of a movie subject that would not give the NY Post man the vapours. Or should I not say 'the vapours' since that would be an atmosphere thing.
Best to stick with glorification of violence I s'pose.
It's a FLOWER HOLOCAUST.
Not in Hawaii.
You have denied the "little one" the knowledge of death?
You have denied the "little one" the knowledge of death?
No, it's just that reminders don't help.
I was at my grandma's funeral when an older kid lifted his little sister into the casket for a close-up view. "Y'see THAT? She's DEAD!"
I am preserving dead flowers in liquid nitrogen in the hope that future advances in medical science will make it possible to revive them.
And as my daughter said, "Once you're dead, that's it. Unless you have a magic father".
Another of my failures is not being magic.
Another of my failures is not being magic.
...oh, like it or not, you are! (and when you least expect it)
use your power wisely :-)
I am preserving dead flowers in liquid nitrogen in the hope that future advances in medical science will make it possible to revive them.
Yeah, sure, but your employees are having a laugh putting the preserved dead flowers in their pants, giving them to hookers and decorating flavorful vodka drinks with them...
I heard that from the catoo institute...
Perhaps I would be better-off preserving them in liquid akvavit instead. I'm fairly confident that no-one drinks the foul stuff except me.
I might even end up re-inventing Latvian Balsam.
but your employees are having a laugh putting the preserved dead flowers in their pants, giving them to hookers and decorating flavorful vodka drinks with them...
Look it's just a hobby. No malice is intended.
Think the flower souls are just waiting contentedly for Science to wake them?
NO.
They scheme.
And as my daughter said, "Once you're dead, that's it. Unless you have a magic father".
And there, in a nutshell, is the basis of all religion.
I don't actually have an ideological resistance to worshiping Substance McNunchuk, however, I think I'll wait for the sacred scriptures just to make sure the rituals don't include anything having to do with clowns...
The ritual is long and complicated (only involving clowns if seltzer supplies dwindle) but you're exempt if you gimme ten bucks.
From someone mired in the the "Jigsaw and Treacle Ritual while in a State of Natural Nudity" I would advise paying the 10 bucks. people.
And on the third day the flowers rose from the dead.
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