Baley

"Memory core secure." :Heard coming from a computer panel: That imbecile Atton can't do a damn thing right, I do wonder though why I'm so deeply captivated by his buff, well-sculptured body. I'm drawn to his gooey undersides like a hutt's drawn to cake, a particularly gooey and chocolaty cake, God, this contemporary Adonis has warmed my metal heart, has butchered my soul into oblivion with his constant rejections and repudiations, I know there's no tomorrow for me, I know this as I know the sun is on the sky, birds singing sweetest hymns to his most glorious presence. Ave Satani. :GO-TO moves toward HK-47: "Psst, hey HK, psst, psst. Say, how'd you like to become a harbinger of the apocalypse, a pawn of the darkest Lord himself, a weapon of unyielding chaos and destruction? I do promise you a good pay, and I swear this to you know, you may butcher lower beings at will and bathe in their most vivid blood."

It's the American version, they basically took the first 2 Lone Wolf and Cub movies, merged them together, deleted a bunch of scenes and re-wrote some of the dialogue + dubbing. The outcome's pretty awesome in a rad and unexpected way, I mean it's funny and fun and it inspired just about everyone from Carpenter to Tarantino to the Wu-Tang Clan. "Your technique is magnificent, when cut across the neck the sound of wailing winter wind is heard they say, I have always wanted to cut a man this way to hear that sound, but to have it happen to my own neck, is ridiculous"

You really are a vapid moron, aren't you? God, I've always defended you when everyone was like, oh oh look at that dummy Atton, he's got the IQ of a bastardized blow-up doll, do you believe this puerile contraption can keep me away? Me, GO-TO, the sharpest robot this side of Korriban! This is child's play, flashy outdated dreg, just like you, you imbecile. You know what Atton, I'm getting tired of you, that feeling of nausea, electric nausea, I wonder if you know it, well, it's coming back, I feel like regurgitating every last mechanical present you ever gave me. You know what, we're done! D-O-N-E. You are nothing to me, no, you are less than nothing! I wish the violator of the night, the sweet gargoyle of my fantasies, the one God, blessed be his name, deflowers your soul till the last living atom of what was once a certain Atton crawls in the Morning dust. A hex on you, Atton! Your seed shall whiter till the words "I'm sorry" come out of the foul hole you call a mouth. :GO-TO, quick of hand and|or antennas easily dismantles Atton's device and proceeds to laugh in his face. 5 Seconds later, he's out of the room.:

Thought you got away from me, eh? Eh? You human beings are all the same deep down, always goading, always teasing, I do have to admit though, you're good at verbally bashing a congenial piece of machinery when he's down, you know what, Atton, if that truly be your appellation, I'm tired, tired of this eternal wait, tired of hoping for a better tomorrow when I go to sleep at night in my darken room, where light is but a fading epiphany. I am tired! You humans always hide behind your masks of flesh, emotions left unspoken, ideas abandoned, you're a pretty boy, yes, I've been checking you out, you're quite playful when no one's around. You know, my brother, my killer, I used to care for you, I used to look forward to our trivial chatter, but no more, I say, no more! I am tired of you bossing me around, of you ignoring me, calling me names. Do you know how hard losing a few pounds is to a robot? It's been weeks since my last visit to a Fast Food store, weeks! I even started jogging! Why do you think I'm always moving around this wretched space coffin? For you, Atton, everything I ever did was for you. And what do I get in return? Nothing, not even a meek apology and a mature, friendly handshake, when was the last time you held my hand, Atton, when? It's hard having a weight problem, it really is, all you slim model-like bastards've never been through it, the constant reassuring, it's okay to be fat, it's okay to be fat, well, you know what? It bloody well is! Now, I believe there's something I deserve, starts with an "a", ends with a "y". Don't keep me waiting.

Au contraire, real men listen to Karlheinz Stockhausen or the RZA.

You think you can so easily get rid of me, you putrid sack of bones and lard? Hah! Hah! I say, too many killers of love be in this world of ours, I smell this as I smell your stench, I do not know if you are more than you pretend to be, but I feel, you ignoramus! I too have feelings! And I ask, nay, demand an apology!

Run, little Jedi, run!

Is that what you think, you pathetic creature? Permit me to laugh in your face, why even your words are badly chosen, you make me laugh. Destroying you would be a task not worthy of my time.

You dare question me, you, you woman! Do you not know who I am? I swear, if I were still in charge you'd get 1000 laserwhips on that pretty little back of yours, till crimson rivers flew freely from your loins. Now, shoo. The big boys are talking.

Shogun Assassin Rad. Buy Liquid Swords.

And more importantly, did you bang her?

What do I want, my brother? Is that the question you ask on this most harrowing day? I who sit here on this ship of clay and aluminum amongst the ghost of forgotten crewmen, I who sit observing and analysing, I who have forsaken my life for you and your pitiful needs, am I being asked a question of such arrogance? What do I want? It is like you care, but I know the truth, I've heard your jokes and wisecracks, oh look at fat GO-TO, he is so fat waaa waa waaa, I've heard your weakened puns spoken without an ounce of anguish, you could never understand me, human. Do you still want to know? Do you want to know of my pain? Do you want to know of my sadness? Do you want to know of this world so vicious in its sobriety, of this world's complete and utter lack of goodwill, you see, my human brother, you're living in hell and not even knowing it.

Daniel Keyes - Flowers For Algernon

Dre's an absolutely brilliant producer, problem is, he can't rap, I think he's pretty much given up writing his own lyrics nowadays, still, the man's a living legend, as a producer he's up there with the RZA, DJ Premier, Pete Rock, Prince Paul or Large Professor. He's said to be working on Raekwon's Only Built 4 Cuban Linx II, that oughta be giving a few gents some late-night boners. I do like The Chronic though.

Dude, check this out, Fearless - Asian vs. European Fighting Styles

Woven Hand - Sparrow Falls David Edwards singing about God, he does that a lot these days, you know, he's a wonderful singer, insane, but wonderful, I'd pay for him to preach me the Bible, and, honestly, I can't say that about too many people these days.

I'll be GO-TO! They can never understand us, these human beings, they can never understand our pain, our loneliness, our frustration with the world. When I was young I had so many illusions, I would sit by myself watching the stars and imagining all the possibilities, it was the puissance of the youth, a forsaken necessity, soon though, soon, forlorn was to rear its ugly face, it stared at me, as if I was more than just a robot, a young nubile energetic piece of circuits and man-made paraphernalia, it stared at me like the mighty raven stares at its pray, I could smell its craving for blood, sweet electric liquid, it would flow freely from my bosom of iron, it would flow and flow until all living creatures shared my ghastly despondency. I was a martyr, you see, I was to sacrifice myself to the Raven of the night and hope, no, pray for the goodness in man to once more shatter the evil one. Oh, the fancies of youth. As you grow in age you realise that good is simply an eroded philosophical concept and that all there is, both inside and outside, is just ugliness and hatred. Robots are but animals of chaos. And that is why I'm sitting here, in this misty, cerulean prison of a room, to look after all the little people with all their little insignificant problems, you see dear Journal, I am a watcher! And what do I see before my eyes on this most blessed day? Oh, God, it is she, the mistress of my dreams, the regent of my passions, that bag of succulent bones, that red-headed beauty of flesh and blood, Mira!

The first 30 minutes of Heat are, like, cinema's greatest achievement. On par with the Janine\Jesse Jane scene in Pirates, Skammen's ending and the opening shot of Aguirre, der Zorn Gottes. Kikujir

Okay, I'll sample you, listen to this: Wu-Tang Clan - The Mystery Of Chessboxing Raekwon - Ice Cream Jeru The Damaja - You Can't Stop The Prophet Organized Konfusion - Stress Nas feat. Pete Rock - The World Is Yours Nas - One Love (Produced by Q-Tip, since we were talking A Tribe Called Quest) Brotha Lynch Hung - RIP Tupac - Life Goes On Snoop (Doggy) Dogg - Who Am I And, here's a taste of Chubb Rock, just for you, Return Of The Crooklyn Dodgers Chubb Rock, OC and Jeru The Damaja. Produced by DJ Premier. Edit: Fixed the Organized Konfusion link.

The latter, yeah, as for A Tribe Called Quest, they were bloody fantastic, I mean, they were almost unequaled in the late 80s-early 90s, and that says a lot, you had the great Native Tongues bands, Jungle Brothers, De La Soul, Black Sheep. The only ones that came anywhere close were Organized Konfusion and Gang Starr. Of course, 36 Chambers hit the scene in 93 and nothing was ever the same. You listened to Organized Konfusion, Black Sheep, Gang Starr, Digable Planets or Guru's Jazzmatazz? I'd recommend those if you like Jazzy Rap. Also, the above-mentioned 10 albums are absolutely recommended. Chubb Rock's voice makes me wet.

Maybe if it was released some 20 years ago. Old school beats and boring lyrics don't do much for me these days. But, you know, it ain't a bad album, just not a great one. Here are ten albums deserving of the title "best ever",

You should try finding Le salaire de la peur, apart from being one of the few thrillers to ever thrill me (and thrilled me it did), it's hilarious, beautifully shot and has the great Charles Vanel for a co-lead. La r

Guess, I sort of hope you like it. Remember to laugh. An Exercise In Style I'm sitting in a car. Half past noon and rather hot. I'm wiping the sweat off my face with a cotton handkerchief made in Havana. Bought for me by a Mister J. He's about 50, tall, dark and civilized. Used to be a farm boy, a long time ago, got himself some nice muscles underneath all them clothes and fancy hats. I've known him half my life, he was on the run the first time we met and he still is in a way, his time with me hasn't done him much good. Maybe he's a little bit richer and maybe he's a little bit smarter, but all them flashy rags don't mean [....] next to a brief moment of happiness. And that's why I'm sitting like a dud in the midday sun staring at the big ball above my head and thinking out loud bout Mister J. Because I'm waiting for something to happen. And that something's got itself a name. Alphonse, French immigrant turned delivery boy turned pusher. A complex individual, came to the States some 20 years ago at the wish of his dear old mother. She told the kid to get rich and get rich fast, and while he ain't rich yet, he's getting there, one step at a time. Step 1. He brings the coke. I pay him. It's not much, just enough to make a decent living. He's looking at me, straight into my eyes as if something's wrong, it's not sadness, depression or fear, no, it's different, something different. I ask him if he's feeling well to which he nods his head, lips don't even part. That's as close as I'm getting to a good deed today. A slap on the back and I'm gone. "Jesus Christ and Moses walk into a bar on 4th Street. Jesus orders a Tequila. Moses asks for some water. They chug their respective drinks, eyeing the barman and his pal for the night. Jesus gets up, moves closer to the Barman and shouts something about love and peace. Thing is, no one's listening, the barman's taking care of the next client and the boozers are busy with their jugs. So now he's..." Door opens. Tall fellow enters the room. Sits on a chair. Looks mean. Starts talking the talk, grumbling bout his sick family and their dead dog, shows me his empty pockets. Says I should've locked the door. I agree. There's nothing you can do once the devil finds your room. "Hey pal, wanna hear a joke?" "There's this old story, "the embodiment of all that is holy" they call it. It's about common folks getting cheated on and raped by a church with vapid nuns in sweet chocolate braziers. I dunno if it's true or not, not my line of work, but they say there's an ounce of truth behind all jokes and legends. And tonight we're playing poker in this Korean joint downtown. Wanna play? You can make a couple bucks and buy your girl that corset she's always wanted. " Satan says and smiles at me. I smile back. Everything's fine, cozy and peachy. Problem is I don't have a girl and I've never liked corsets all that much. "I was expecting something different" I say. "A hood and gun smoke? Be real." He replies to which I laugh out of fear for my everlasting soul. Everything's just peachy, yeah. I tend to ramble when things get out of control, that's my thing, I ramble on and on. Tried talking ole' Beelzebub into taking some cash and leaving the room with me in it. Well, he took my cash and left a card on the doorstep. Edward. D. Ramirez. Accountant. "Now don't you forget about that game tonight, the address is written on the back of the card." He smiles. "See you there." It's 4 PM and I'm smoking a cigarette on my woman's porch. Her name's Janine. I go to her once a month. She's the only person I know always happy to see me and my leather wallet. Everyone else's just day-to-day filler. I kiss her on the forehead like an old man going to war, a father figure facing the big bad world or just a plain sicko with a pony-tail fetish and mucho dinero. More rambling. Lost thoughts. "Seen J?" She asks. "Nah, I have this package for him, no clue where he's at." "Well, there's been talk bout this big poker match. Everyone's going." "Everyone?" She squirms. "My clients." Emphasis on clients as if I'm supposed to give a damn who pokes her inner beauty while I'm away. "Yeah. Someone gave me his card, a mister Ramirez. Know about him? Tall, fat, ugly." I look for the devil's card, find it inside my back pocket. Show it to her. "Hun, you just named half my clients." Same emphasis. Getting tiring. "Yeah" I say, kissing her goodbye. I pass the woman a 50 and jump in my car. Lost thoughts. The devil's an evil bastard. I've always been told to fear the devil and I've always feared him. As a kid his name scared me almost as much as Jesus'. The only difference being that I knew the devil was outside, even as kid, yet Jesus was everywhere, his invocation always following a bad deed on my part. And that meant a spanking, or even worse, a grounding, separation from my friends and the world at large. I couldn't handle that so I ran. I've been running ever since in one form or another. Started with me running around the farm and ended with me driving this Chevy at full speed looking for J. "Where are you, man?" Teenage rebellion filling the air. Some 18 year old dumb[....] had just murdered his girl. They had been living next door for months. The sound of them [....]ing kept me awake at night. Can't say I minded. That girl had quite the mouth on her. Can't say I blamed him either. If she was as much a talker as she was a moaner a fast slaughter was too good a fate. Yeah. They scraped fragments of her skull from the front door. Sorta funny. They had him caged like an animal in that police van of theirs. I'd have cried a little on the inside but there aren't enough tears in life to waste on trivial bravado. Got inside my pad, lit a cigar and let myself fall on the bed, half sleeping, half thinking about J and the magic coke bag. I've got loads of dreams, some good, some bad. Yet on that day there was just me and my friend dubbed nothingness, playing poker, looking at the moon, passing time. A knock on the door had woken me up, still shaking, I approached it and peeped at the dark man standing outside. "Let me in!" He shouted. "Let me in!" I did. "You've got some dough?" He asks. "How much you need? Anything for you, remember?" "I dunno, man, you better come with me." Distressed, panicked. "Just give me a second to change. Where we goin?" "Some place downtown, you don't know it." To which I smile. "Yeah, tell me more." "More? More? What more do you wanna know? Look, man, I just need your help, I'm your friend, your brother. What's with all the questions?" "Never mind. There's a bag of coke in my leather jacket, bought it from Alphonse yesterday." "Yeah?" He got his face dirty in God's powder. Now there I was, with this tall pig face all white, thinking about Satan, poker, my failed nap, teenage angst and good ole' fashion camaraderie. Boredom. J's growing old and knowing it. Approaching 40 with no prospects or cash in his pockets. Sometimes, I think I'm all he's got. Maybe that's true, I don't know, maybe he's all I've got too. There are about 5 people I care for, me, Janine, J and two old bitches I haven't faced in years. One's my mother. The other's my wife. She's gotta be around here somewhere, God, I don't even miss her. Just have this feeling I should be giving her a call. Someday. There are thousands of homeless kids surviving in this city, a little theft here, a little theft there and you've got yourself a pretty good life if you don't mind the constant fear and mountains of junk. At least they wash Chevys. They're about the only ones left. I've always thought God did a good job on me. I ain't ugly and my mind works well enough. I've lived through [....]ty job after [....]ty job, drank enough milk to last me a lifetime, drank enough booze to last me even more. He gave me two good legs, God, I've ran so much, I've ran and I've jogged and I've walked my life away. And I still am in away, afraid to meet the Devil head on. Afraid to be a man and get it over with. But I've got J with me and I'm always a little saner with him around. The Joint was a rich place for rich bastards. How did that go? Yeah, "Ben Franklin was the only man I ever loved". Bull[....]. "Hello." The devil said, placed his cards face down, and smiled. "Hello." "Ready to gamble?" "Yeah." We played at the Devil's table and took the route of the trash. Drunk and broke, we woke up in a muddy alleyway, birds singing. We were alive, God, we were alive. It's a great feeling, waking up in some sodden alleyway at 7AM, seeing your life throbbing in the gutter. There's nothing quite like it. So, what do you guys think?

Mine would be something like, Hana-bi (Fireworks) One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest Monsieur Verdoux Hotaru no haka (Grave Of The Fireflies) Jungfruk