Baley

Lobo killed Santa. Lobo > Deadpool.

Public Image Ltd. - Francis Massacre Organized Konfusion - The Extinction Agenda Mother****ing wow!

Lobo > Deadpool

The Jesus Lizard - Killer McHann

Ulver - Themes from William Blake's The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (album) (hah!)

Ken Loach's The Wind That Shakes The Barley wins Palme d'Or. http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0460989/

The Ten Commandments - Yul Brynner Horrible movie.

Actually, I think the movie is primarily based on the 30 minute episodes developed for MTV later on. (95?) The original six were roughly five minutes long. Not a nerd. Shut Up.

Hana-bi Crimes and Misdemeanors Viridiana Inherit the Wind Smultronstallet Stroszek La Strada Le salaire de la peur Spider Jin Roh Hotaru no haka Yojimbo Dead Ringers Videodrome Brazil The Man Who Wasn't There Dr. Strangelove Rashomon Le fantome de la liberte Ansiktet Annie Hall The Big Lebowski Sleeper Dolls Barton Fink Trollflojten Scener ur ett aktenskap Naked Lunch Paths of Glory Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas Life of Brian Djavulens oga Cobra Verde Tystnaden Vargtimmen Persona Monsieur Verdoux Limelight Miller's Crossing Magyarok Leo the Last O Brother, Where Art Thou? Simon del desierto Le journal d'une femme de chambre The Petrified Forest Quills Angels with Dirty Faces Sunset Boulevard La mort en ce jardin Cet obscur objet du desir Underground Bullets Over Broadway The Lion in Winter Kagemusha Ran The Treasure of the Sierra Madre Skammen Manhattan Blood Simple Fahrenheit 451 Kukushka Irma Vep Saraband Taxi Driver 12 Angry Men Patton High Plains Drifter Unforgiven Les invasions barbares Adaptation Good Night, and Good Luck. Sonatine Cronaca di un amore Blade Runner 12 Monkeys 2001: A Space Odyssey El angel exterminador Le charme discret de la bourgeoisie Belle de jour Tristana Nattvardsg?sterna Jungfrukallan If... Catch-22 Despair - Eine Reise ins Licht Tsubaki Sanjuro Deconstructing Harry Zelig Love and Death Grizzly Man Brother Zatoichi Rope Modern Times Crna macka, beli macor Big Trouble in Little China To Have and Have Not Eyes Wide Shut Autumn Sonata Ghost World Everything is Illuminated Yes, Minister Yes, Prime Minister The Black Adder Blackadder 2-4 Farscape Futurama The Simpsons 3-8

Apart from Ben Parker. Yeah.

Mike Patton was way sexier on that Irony is a Dead Scene EP. As for the Afghan Whigs. I like it. I need to listen to more of this album. Afghan Whigs - Crazy

The Dillinger Escape Plan - Panasonic Youth The Afghan Whigs - Somethin' Hot

Thank you, Blank. Some of my better work is in Romanian though. I had to make a few modifications. And since I can't edit that post. I'll paste it here and wait for a mod to edit it. Edit #2 So let it be written, so let it be done.* * Cookie for correct identification of actor and film.

Sure. But it is a comic-book adaptation. And brilliant?

Thank Jags, I had almost forgotten about the second one. Those were my favourite shows as a kid, along with the original He-Man and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. This was post-1989 Romania, four or so years I think. There were only a few TV Channels around and they seldom aired toons. Times were hard. My father had all these shows on tape, VCR. There were a lot of these things flying around in Pre-Copyright Law Romania. This might be nostalgia talking but for the 60s, the first show wasn't too bad. Have you seen the series as a child, Jags? I still watch the 90s Spider-Man now and again. The first episodes are kinda bland. I suppose it did improve once Madam Webb became a regular. Has anyone here seen the follow-up? I've also seen a few Hercules episodes. When I was 13-14. Started drinking. As for the X-Men movies, the first two were hardly impressive, apart from Stewart and McKellan. God, I get a boner seeing those two act. Has this one gone a more traditional 80s route? With tons of one liners and sweet-macho action? Ghost World is the only great comic book-movie.

Without. The outcome must be natural.

Pretty self-centered. I like it. Any opinions? Jumping\Running Friday Morning 10 AM. I wake up. Scout for clothes. Find some in the laundry basket. Smell of perspiration. Wash my face. Wash my teeth. Wash the dirt away. I'm sweating. It's hot. Unusually so for this time of year. Doesn't matter. I need to get to school. I'm late. 20 minutes late. Sweating like a pig. I imagine her face. She doesn't matter. I imagine her face, again and again as I cook a passable breakfast. Eggs. Boiled. Don't really like eggs. Don't really like breakfast. I dress myself. I comb my hair and then purposely whirl it in a vaguely energetic fashion. It's all gone to waste. I smile. I start running around the small middle-class flat. I get my knapsack. Throw it on my back. I rush out of the apartment. Out the hallway. Down the stairs. Down the stairs. Four floors. 40 minutes late. There's this great passion about running, concentrating on the running itself. When I was a young boy I ran like a horse, in all directions. I ran and ran. No one could stop me. Cars trembled. Roads sobbed. I was there. Running. I get tired now. The heat gets to me. I can smell its effects. Everywhere. "It's killing us all." I thought. "It's all useless." I imagine her face. Her happy face. She's why I'm running. Why I'm not giving up. Why I'm still clinging to hope. Hope, so pointlessly cute and inarticulate. I can feel the heat closing in. I need to move. Faster. Faster. Through the empty streets. Through the poverty-stricken alleyways. Passing dogs, children, grandparents, hollering for money, begging for food, tears in their eyes and bibles in their hands. Faster. Faster. Down old roads. Alongside other travellers. I'm a sick man. I can feel the sickness. I can feel the hate building up inside. I imagine her face. She's beautiful. Faster. Faster. I punch and kick my way through. There's this old man. He's blind. I salute him. My father worked for him before it all went sour. He's a proud man. Vain. Can't accept his fate. He tells me about business deals and investments. "The Market's doing well." He says. 'That's good." I say. He nods. I nod. He smiles. He pats me on the back. He whispers something. I push him away. Far far away. He smiles at me. His smile is just as vain. He's not really blind. That's what he whispered. He's faking it. "For the cash." He says. "That's disgusting." I say. "You're a sick old ****." I turn my back. He grabs me. Punches me in the gut, he's got a good right arm. "Please." He says. "Don't you have some change?" He's incapacitated me. Can't move. I give him money. Everything he wants. I just want out. I'm sick. I'm a sick sick man. I need help. She got the most beautiful smile in the whole world. I'm lying in a pool of heat. It's all around me. I'm trapped. But she's with me. I hear her voice inside my head. "Everything's fine." She says. "I'm here. I love you." I don't believe her. I need proof. Rational realizations and conceptualizations. I don't trust voices in my head. I feel like jumping up and down. I need some reassuring. The voice keeps spreading its lies. "I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you." It's twisting me. I feel like running. Away from the voice. Away from the beggars. Away from the heat. I see a tall circular building. Built out of glass, modern, brand-new. I fake a smile. It's not for me. Just another building. Just another prison. Glass. I see a woman. She's got gorgeous juicy breasts. I feel nothing. I analyse her. Closer. Closer. I move. I touch her cheeks, gently, I look into her eyes. Nothing. "Excuse me." I say. Turn my back and run away. There's this building I've always liked. It's fairly old, a wreck from another time. I look at my legs. I'm trembling. The voice is silent. 60 minutes late. The day's ruined. The voice is silent. "Why is she so quiet?" I ask myself. I close my eyes. I touch the building. Hippie joint. Hasn't been used in decades. No one lives there anymore. A home without a soul. I enter the building. The voice is silent. "I'm prepared." I say out loud. "I'm ready!" I yell. I'm not a man of many words. Ever since I can remember, years, decades I've had this feeling, with me. It's always been part of me. I want to free myself of the body, of the material world, of its fluids and moods. All I have to do is jump. Simple. "I love you." She says. Another voice. Different, more humane. It's her voice, I know it. Her beautiful face. The girl with the beautiful face. I'm panicking. I don't want her to see me this way. On top of this building. 60 metres up. "Leave!" I shout. "Leave!" She's gone. I'm all alone. The voice, the heat, the beggars. They're all dead. It's just me and the building. I kiss the ground. Move closer to the edge. Embrace the inevitable. Shake my hands in the air as a last act of rebellion. Close my eyes. Shout some monosyllabic garbage. Doesn't matter. I imagine her face. Her beautiful happy face. I jump. Elation. I fall. I smile. Not the end. Never the end. Call it a feeling.

Comment on Blank's review, bastards. I'd give you an honorary blow job but I'm too afraid of you spilling your Christian Man-goo all over my face. Some other time.

Because I want to jump off a building? I think it's a perfectly normal desire. Come now, Muso.

I've always wanted to jump off a building or some other seductively tall construction. The Idea keeps finding its way back inside my head, there's this beautiful, albeit short abandoned joint in my neighbourhood. I go past it every day. It always amazes me. I'm bewildered. I stare at it for seconds at a time. I lean against this dirty bar's aluminum and glass wall. I look at it and visualise the jump. I don't want to fly. It's never interested me. But the jump, it's breathtaking, liberating. I see myself jumping. And falling. I don't mind the fall. It all seems worth it. Then I turn away. I don't look back. I just walk, slowly. I search for my walkman and plug some cheap headphones in. I'm not listening to it though. The mind's still jumping, somewhere, somehow, my mind makes that jump.

I posted the lyrics. But Stagger Lee is still a personal favourite. Nick Cave - Stagger Lee It was back in '32 when times were hard He had a Colt .45 and a deck of cards Stagger Lee He wore rat-drawn shoes and an old stetson hat Had a '28 Ford, had payments on that Stagger Lee His woman threw him out in the ice and snow And told him, "Never ever come back no more" Stagger Lee So he walked through the rain and he walked through the mud Till he came to a place called The Bucket Of Blood Stagger Lee He said "Mr Mother****er, you know who I am" The barkeeper said, "No, and I don't give a good goddamn" To Stagger Lee He said, "Well bartender, it's plain to see I'm that bad mother****er called Stagger Lee" Mr. Stagger Lee Barkeep said, "Yeah, I've heard your name down the way And I kick mother****ing asses like you every day" Mr Stagger Lee Well those were the last words that the barkeep said 'Cause Stag put four holes in his mother****ing head Just then in came a broad called Nellie Brown Was known to make more money than any bitch in town She struts across the bar, hitching up her skirt Over to Stagger Lee, she starts to flirt With Stagger Lee She saw the barkeep, said, "O God, he can't be dead!" Stag said, "Well, just count the holes in the mother****er's head" She said, "You ain't look like you scored in quite a time. Why not come to my pad? It won't cost you a dime" Mr. Stagger Lee "But there's something I have to say before you begin You'll have to be gone before my man Billy Dilly comes in, Mr. Stagger Lee" "I'll stay here till Billy comes in, till time comes to pass And furthermore I'll **** Billy in his mother****ing ass" Said Stagger Lee "I'm a bad mother****er, don't you know And I'll crawl over fifty good pussies just to get one fat boy's ass hole" Said Stagger Lee Just then Billy Dilly rolls in and he says, "You must be That bad mother****er called Stagger Lee" Stagger Lee "Yeah, I'm Stagger Lee and you better get down on your knees And suck my ****, because If you don't you're gonna be dead" Said Stagger Lee Billy dropped down and slobbered on his head And Stag filled him full of lead Oh yeah.

Nick Cave - O'Malley's Bar I am tall and I am thin Of an enviable hight And I've been known to be quite handsome In a certain angle and in certain light Well I entered into O'Malley's Said, "O'Malley I have a thirst" O'Malley merely smiled at me Said "You wouldn't be the first" I knocked on the bar and pointed To a bottle on the shelf And as O'Malley poured me out a drink I sniffed and crossed myself My hand decided that the time was nigh And for a moment it slipped from view And when it returned, it fairly burned With confidence anew Well the thunder from my steely fist Made all the glasses jangle When I shot him, I was so handsome It was the light, it was the angle Huh! Hmmmmmm "Neighbours!" I cried, "Friends!" I screamed I banged my fist upon the bar "I bear no grudge against you!" And my **** felt long and hard "I am the man for which no God waits But for which the whole world yearns I'm marked by darkness and by blood And one thousand powder-burns" Well, you know those fish with the swollen lips That clean the ocean floor When I looked at poor O'Malley's wife That's exactly what I saw I jammed the barrel under her chin And her face looked raw and vicious Her head it landed in the sink With all the dirty dishes Her little daughter Siobhan Pulled beers from dusk till down And amongst the townfolk she was a bit of a joke But she pulled the best beer in town I swooped magnificent upon her As she sat shivering in her grief Like the Madonna painted on the church-house wall In whale's blood and banana leaf Her throat it crumbled in my fist And I spun heroically around To see Caffrey rising from his seat I shot that mother ****er down Mmmmmmmmmm Yeah Yeah Yeah "I have no free will", I sang As I flew about the murder Mrs. Richard Holmes, she screamed You really should have heard her I sang and I laughed, I howled and I wept I panted like a pup I blew a hole in Mrs. Richard Holmes And her husband stupidly stood up As he screamed, "You are an evil man" And I paused a while to wonder "If I have no free will then how can I Be morally culpable, I wonder" I shot Richard Holmes in the stomach And gingerly he sat down And he whispered weirdly, "No offense" And then lay upon the ground "None taken", I replied to him To which he gave a little cough With blazing wings I neatly aimed And blew his head completely off I've lived in this town for thirty years And to no-one I am a stranger And I put new bullets in my gun Chamber upon chamber And I turned my gun on the bird-like Mr. Brookes I thought of Saint Francis and his sparrows And as I shot down the youthful Richardson It was St. Sebastian I thought of, and his arrows Hhhhhhhhhh Mmmmmmmmmmmm I said, "I want to introduce myself And I am glad that all you came" And I leapt upon the bar And shouted out my name Well Jerry Bellows, he hugged his stool Closed his eyes and shrugged and laughed And with an ashtray as big as a ****ing really big brick I split his head in half His blood spilled across the bar Like a steaming scarlet brook And I knelt at it's edge on the counter Wiped the tears away and looked Well, the light in there was blinding Full of God and ghosts of truth I smiled at Henry Davenport Who made an attempt to move Well, from the position I was standing The strangest thing I ever saw The bullet entered through the top of his chest And blew his bowels out on the floor Well I floated down the counter Showing no remorse I shot a hole in Kathleen Carpenter Recently divorced But remorse i felt and remorse I had It clung to every thing From the raven's hair upon my head To the feathers on my wings Remorse sqeezed my hand in it's fradulent claw With it's golden hairless chest And I glided through the bodies And killed the fat man Vincent West Who sat quietly in his chair A man become a child And I raised the gun up to his head Executioner-style He made no attempt to resist So fat and dull and lazy "Did you know I lived in your street?" I said And he looked at me as though I were crazy "O", he said, "I had no idea" And he grew as quiet as a mouse And the roar of the pistol when it went off Near blew that hat right off the house Hmmmmmm Uh Uh Well, I caught my eye in the mirror And gave it a long and loving inspection "There stands some kind of man", I roared And there did, in the reflection My hair combed back like a raven's wing My muscles hard and tight And curling from the business end of my gun Was a query-mark of cordite Well I spun to the left, I spun to the right And I spun to the left again "Fear me! Fear me! Fear me!" But no one did cause they were dead Huh! Hmmmmmmmmm And then there were the police sirens wailing And a bull-horn squelched and blared "Drop your weapons and come out With your hands held in the air" Well, I checked the chamber of my gun Saw I had one final bullet left My hand, it looked almost human As I raised it to my head "Drop your weapon and come out! Keep your hands above your head!" I had one one long hard think about dying And did exactly what they said There must have been fifty cops out there In a circle around O'Malley's bar "Don't shoot", I cried, "I'm a man unarmed!" So they put me in their car And they sped me away from that terrible scene And I glanced out of the window Saw O'Malley's bar, saw the cops and the cars And I started counting on my fingers Aaaaaah One Aaaaaah Two Aaaaaah Three Aaaaaaah Four O'Malley's bar O'Malley's bar

Hah. Nick Cave - O'Malley's Bar