Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
I had no idea where the title of Yo La Tengo's most recent album "I Am Not Afraid Of You And I Will Beat Your Ass" came from....[link]
The title of the album is rumored to be a (paraphrased) quote by NBA player, Tim Thomas. Sitting on the bench together during a game, Thomas was caught on tape by the MSG Network in a profane exchange with fellow Knick, point guard Stephon Marbury. Thomas yelled at Marbury, "Everyone in this organization is afraid of you, but I’m not, and I will beat your ass."
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Why, hello, miss! Thank you for pointing your eyes towards the end of the story. I wouldn't have known which other direction to point my eyes! Wait what? What is this that is popping up on the page?
I'm sorry what was I reading again? I remember I wanted to catch up on some news. Oh I love news! It really is the breast!
[link - worth click to see how ridiculous this is]
Friday, March 20, 2009
"There are often lists of the great living male movie stars: De Niro, Nicholson and Pacino, usually. How often do you see the name of Nicolas Cage? He should always be up there. He's daring and fearless in his choice of roles, and unafraid to crawl out on a limb, saw it off and remain suspended in air. No one else can project inner trembling so effectively." Ebert adds, "He alway seems so earnest. However improbable his character, he never winks at the audience. He is committed to the character with every atom and plays him as if he were him."
-from his review of Adaptation
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Regarding the end of what would be come the iconic scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark. Umm, way to knock it out of the park, Steven...
G — In the end he gets it and comes out of the temple into sunlight and looks and he's got the thing, and we cut to Washington, D.C.
S — You know what it could be. I have a great idea. He hears the sand... When he goes into the cave, it's not straight. The whole thing is on an incline on the way in. He hears this, grabs the thing, comes to a corridor. There is a sixty-five foot boulder that's form-fitted to only roll down the corridor coming right at him.' And it's a race. He gets to outrun the boulder. It then comes to rest and blocks the entance of the cave. Nobody will ever come in again. This boulder is the size of a house.
S — You can knock somebody' s belt off and the guys pants fall down.
G — You can swing over things, you can...there are so many things you can do with it. I thought he carried it rolled up. It's like a Samurai sword. He carries it back there and you don't even notice it. That way it's not in the way or anything. It's just there whenever he wants it.
S — At some point in the movie he must use it to get a girl back who's walking out of the room. Wrap her up and she twirls as he pulls her back. She spins into his arms. You have to use it for more things than just saving himself.
G — We'll have to work that part out.
Indiana: I can get it! I can almost reach it, Dad...
Henry Jones: Indiana?....Indiana?..... Let it go...
Play sound here [link]
Didn't realize until just now how good that advice really was.
George Lucas: I can make another! I can almost reach how good the other movies were, America...
America: George? ..... George?.... Let it go....
As previously reported, Herzog says the not-a-remake is a old form with a new twist. “I think it’s a new form of film noir. It’s not a remake. It’s a completely independent autonomous story." Again, he lauds lead star Nicolas Cage. "Nicolas was terrific. You will see something extraordinary when you see him on screen. It’s the best he’s ever done."
as my friend Deek would say, before an episode of Lost starts: "I'm already crying!!!"
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
After a long negotiations with every American President from 1789-2073 (That's Pres. Washington to Pres. Barack O'Roomba) and every American dictator from 2073-30,000 A.D. (which is also known as 27,527 Anno Roomba, and there has really only been one dictator, His Excellency Lord Tyrant O'Roomba), I've arranged, for one night only, a night for Outlaws to take sanctuary.
That's right. Outlaws from all times have been granted a pardon to party.
In order to join this asylum, I ask all you outlaws to join me at our Time Asylum. Now the window of refuge will be brief - we only have from 10 pm to ALL NIGHT, Friday March 20th at Royal Oak in Williamsburg. [map]
So to be clear...
This is not a costume party. This is an outlaw party.
Since we are free to be ourselves for one night only... please come in your REGULAR OUTLAW CLOTHES.
Friday March 20th at 10 pm
594 Union Ave
Oh yeah. Though Outlaws may run from the law, they all will get dirty on the flo'.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Friday, March 6, 2009
Female athlete was really a man
A Chinese woman athlete who won dozens of medals has thrown most of them away after learning she is really a man.
Well we all know that Ladybugs are also known as Chinese Beetles, so its not much a surprise to TCRM.
I've been saying this for years...someone PLEASE resurrect Rodney Dangerfield...
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Who Are We?
TCRM Commercial Corporation (TCRM) is a leader in non-conforming lending and specializes in obtaining and funding difficult or rejected loans. TRCM is committed to staying on the cutting edge of this business.
While each of its divisions acts independently to achieve specific goals for clients, the company is also fully integrated to assure that we provide the highest level comprehensive quality service.
Obviously, TCRM (me) is a great trustworthy institution. I cannot speak on behalf of TCRM (not me). But I hope you TCRM (blog) fans did not rush to do business with TCRM (loans).
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
from rolling stone: Wayne Coyne on the Arcade Fire....
"I'm a fan of them on one level, but on another level I get really tired of their pompousness ... We've played some shows with them and they really treat people like shit. Whenever I've been around them, I've found that they not only treated their crew like shit, they treated the audience like shit. They treated everybody in their vicinity like shit. I thought, 'Who do they think they are?' I don't know why people put up with it. I wouldn't put up with it. I don't care if it's Arcade Fire or Brian Eno. If either of them walked into a room and treated people like shit I'd be like, 'Fuck you, get outta here.'
... People treat Arcade Fire like they're the greatest thing ever and they get away with it. Those sort of opinions change my view of their music. They have good tunes, but they're pricks, so fuck 'em. Who does Arcade Fire think they are? I've been around groups. I've been around the Edge from U2 and he's the fucking sweetest guy ever. I was around Justin Timberlake when he was young and he was just a normal, nice, kind person. Anyone can be polite and kind and people who have the privilege and money and attention should understand that. If they don't, then fuck 'em."
I don't know how this is supposed to be funny. I mean, I'm not sure this is even a joke. Is there a world out there where this ISN'T considered a nightmare?
Thanks (??) to Jim on this one. I told him this piece only makes sense in the context of these two (barf) sexual fantasies (barf barf) (omg really i want to barf)
can't continue.... the horror, the horror.
The actor has signed on to play the evil magician Horvath in the movie starring Nicolas Cage and Jay Baruchel. Jon Turteltaub is directing the film, and Jerry Bruckheimer is producing.
The story centers on an average college student (Baruchel) who is reluctantly recruited to work for a sorcerer named Balthazar Blake (Cage). The man gives him a crash course in the art and science of magic to prepare him for a battle against the forces of darkness in modern Manhattan.
Judd Apatow is not, as rumors have suggested, involved in Ghostbusters 3. Frankly, I think the whole idea is pretty bad, but why not, I guess. Crystal Skull did not make me hate Indiana Jones - it only deepened my hate for Lucas/Spielberg. I think Apatow could do a good job, but we have to ask ourselves:
What do we really want from this sequel?
I personally don't want to see Seth Rogen and Paul Rudd given the proton packs. There is enough fun between the original Ghostbusters. Besides, wouldn't you rather see what was described by Harold Ramis...
Ramis: Oh, he’s [Akroyd] amazing. [laughs] But my thought was that what works so well about the first two is the mundane-ness of it all. So my notion was that Hell exists simultaneously, and in the same place as our consensus reality. But it’s like a film shutter — it’s the darkness between the 24 frames. When we’re blinking on, they’re off — so we blink alternately with this other reality, which is Hell.
President Obama went to a Bulls-Wizards game and sat courtside Friday night. Since he was rooting for the visiting team, a little trash-talking went down.
So, for example, he told the President that if he was rooting for the visitors, he was "gonna have to keep it to a low roar, because we're cheering for the Wizards over here." Obama, in turn, repeatedly needled Rawls about the Wizards' habit of letting leads evaporate, especially when the Bulls made a run.
"We was just going back and forth," Rawls said. "Once Chicago started coming back, he told me, 'Now I think you need to sit down.' When Tyrus Thomas dunked on somebody, he turned around, was talking smack. Then JaVale McGee had that alley-oop, and he gave me the high five. We was just supporting each others' team, having a good time."
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
I used to watch this show... How fucking lame does this intro look? I can't believe I would watch this every week.
Full Disclosure: I saw every episode of Smallville through season 5
by Josh Sherman
[ed. note: Don't worry, this blog is not going to become me posting short fiction. This piece is pretty long, and understandably intimidating. But I think it is in line with TCRM and I hope you enjoy it.]
The warden walks through the hall of lunging arms and moaning voices in a crisp dark suit. He stops two cells from the end and turns to find a fat man, a man with no hope. The man with no hope sits over the side of his bed and covers his face with his hands, his hands underneath his greasy long hair and over his graying beard. Inside his cell of gray brick walls, a door with a zigzag-ing edge is drawn in chalk opposite his bed. On the floor, a few boxes of cigarettes are glued together with fake eyes pasted to the sides.
"Prisoner 442, you have been pardoned by newly elected Governor Curtis. You are hereby released from the San Quentin correctional facility."
The man with no hope removes his face out of his hands and looks towards the warden, then to the metal bars which have begun to slide. Galink! He stares at the warden and bites his bottom lip, his eyes have welled up. He turns his head back and returns to the position he was found in.
* * * *
He pushes the door open to find a dark room, the air thick with dust, which makes him cough. A step forward and he jolts backwards - he couldn't see the spiderwebs hanging from the ceiling. A creaking sound echoes from across the room. He finds the light switch and goes to turn it on, but the switch had already been in the on position. He reaches for the matches he had picked up in the convenience store on his way home. He lights the match and in the moment of spark he sees his old friends lying around him in a large puddle of blood on the floor. He screams and loses the flame and is tackled by something small. Small wooden feet repeatedly kick him in the face. "You left us! You left us with nothing! All we had was one piece of aluminum foil. One piece of aluminum foil. One piece of...."
"... aluminum foil." The guard removes items from a large manila envelope. "You all right boss?" he asks. The man with no hope wipes some sweat from his brow, "just give me my stuff." "One ten dollar bill. One pair of loafers. One pair of gray slacks. One gray jacket, slightly torn. One white oxford shirt and one red bowtie. That should do it."
* * * *
Two guards walk him to the gate and he gazes up one last time at the tower. He walks awkwardly: his pants and jacket no longer fit, but he has nothing else to wear for now. His pants are unzipped to relieve the pressure on his belly. A taxi cab pulls up and he gets in. "Take the Redwood Highway north and stop at the Save-Stop in San Anselmo. I need to get some cigarettes." "That hasn't been a Save-Stop in 15 years, it's now a Cart-Shopper," the driver replies. "Do you think I give a damn?" He opens his backseat window and breathes in the hot breeze. His eyelids get heavy.
He arrives at the front door and finds the room dark. He turns the light switch on and the lights turn on. The house is empty. There is no evidence of a house lived in other than the discoloration on the walls where picture frames were once hung. "Where is everyone?" he yells out. He falls to the ground in tears and lies there on his side, his knees pulled up to his chest. "Where is everyone??" A voice responds "Well, here you are." He opens his eyes and looks up in confusion. "What?"
"Here you are... at the Cart Shopper." The cab driver points to the sign on the building. His passenger gets out and sees the sky has turned to dusk. The building, aside from the sign outside, looks just as he remembers it. Inside, he asks the clerk for a pack of cigarettes. "Here you go, 10 pounds of M&M's" she says. "What the hell is the matter with you? I asked for American Spirits." "Excuse me, sir, but you definitely asked me for 10 pounds of M&M's." She gives him the cigarettes and he gives her his wrinkled tender. A raucus outside catches his eye. A boy in a gray suit has just rode his bike over an old woman, who has collapsed in the parking lot where M&M's are scattered. The boy is freaking out, he jacket is torn. "Call the police!" he yells to the clerk as he runs outside. Outside, there is nothing but his cab driver waiting for him. He falls to his knees in tears. "I need to go home! They need me! I can't go to prison! They need me!" His cab driver helps him into the car and drives the man to his destination. He sits in the back seat with one hand over his heart and the other over his face.
* * * *
By the time he reaches his house, night has fallen. The cab has driven off and he guides himself to the front door by moonlight. The house is not lit up like it used to be.
He stands outside, shoulders slumped. He looks down at his suit and straightens it out a bit. He licks his hand and puts his fingers through his hair. He pushes the door forward slightly and peeks into the room. It is dark and quiet: no one is here. He steps all the way in and closes the door, puts a cigarette in his mouth and reaches for the light switch. He turns it on.
"P-p-p-p-PEE WEE!" he hears call from behind him. He doesn't bother to turn around and look: he is certain it is his imagination deceiving him, just as it had all day. "Yeah right, I'm losing my mind." "Well it's always the last place you left it!" The unlit cigarette drops to the floor. The man who had no hope smiles for the first time in years.
"The secret word of the day is 'Pardon!'"
"Uhh Peee-weeee, let's play!"
"Pterri I'd love to!"
"But it's time for you to play with me Pee-Wee!"
"Magic Screen! You look beautiful!"
"What about me Pee Wee?" The silhouette of a buxom is in the doorway. She steps forward.
"Miss Yvonne! You look beautiful too!"
"I beg your pardon?" she replies.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" The room screams.
"No really, old age has taken its toll on my hearing"
"Whats the matter Pee Wee - how did you get so fat?"
"Randy! I see you haven't lost your charm. Ha! You better put down that cigarette. Those things can kill you! Heheheh!"
"Hey Pee Wee baby, let's play all night
It's super great to see you, cuz you're outtasite"
"Chicky Baby! Your voice is so wonderful keep singing! I wish we could party like this forever!"
"Did someone say wish?"
Every single of his friends was in the Playhouse, and Pee-Wee wished he could play with them for the rest of his life. And so it was. His friends had waited for him, but no one needed to know where he was. There was no time for foolish questions like that.
The man who had no hope just earlier that morning was now the happiest person in the world. Mecca lecca hi, mecca hiney ho.
Is that...So that's why you wanted a late night show, Jimmy. You are just afraid of falling asleep!