Is it wrong to say, Joker was funnier the second time around? All those wrong things were good for a chuckle.
What’s not funny is how the Red Cross is keeping $11 million from the world’s donations – for the bushfire crisis here in Australia – for what they’re calling administration fees. And the victims continue to wait for much more of the donation money to be distributed. They keep 91 cents of every dollar donated. Criminal.
The world calls out for a simpler time, where we’re all far from the madding crowd, the four horsemen are nowhere to be seen over the horizon, and the sounds of harmony come from all directions as if an innocent young lad had just pulled a sword from a stone.
The machine that could now think was given a face to wear, a draping of man’s image, that would bridge the connection between knowing it was made from circuits and cogs to knowing that it could have feelings like a man, as long as it saw itself as one. It would wake, work and sleep every day. It would dream or it thought it did and even forget what it had dreamt come each morning. It never wavered from its routine. It never complained. It lived, until the day that man was gone because of a plague. The thinking machine then had no one to find meaning in for its own existence, and when it looked in the mirror, it faced the question of whether it should have the visage of a man when man no longer existed. Nothing existed except the world around it and it wondered in lesser terms if it should continue its mock caricature of what was. Nothing mattered except a way to turn the page in a way the machine couldn’t have fathomed until these circumstances unfolded. In this realisation, a large black obelisk appeared behind it, light shining, humming, a way out.
Do you know what puts me off the Internet or the blogosphere more than anything else? Bad writing. Particularly, broad, general statements and cliches. Take this one, “blah blah blah, something a rather, you know I’m a sucker for books.” I can’t stand cliches like that. It takes away any “thisness”, the “this is real” factor. I’m a sucker for fantasy books or a specific style of writing would’ve been more apt.
I read crap like that all the time. It’s so off putting, and that was but a tiny example. The worst is when reviews ramble on about inconsequential facts or when broad statements and cliches are littered about a text. Not even peppered, littered. It’s a mind numbing excursion through the wastelands enfolded into the alleys and cracks of the world. Read more people.
Put down your phone. They’re probably watching you anyway.
Sometimes the best thing to do on the nights you don’t do much is to go out. Hence why I’ve found myself an hour and a half from home, down by the coast, enjoying the sea air at night and feeling a little nippy. I also have to get home.
I didn’t know what to call him, the man in the middle of the room. He was rotund, portly, stout at the edges, awash with yellow skin and plumed with scraggy grey hair. His large sullen black eyes had sunken into the back of his head, and from the protrusions on his back it seemed he had been tragically disfigured around the spinal column. Smith was fond of him for his certain peculiarities, such as how he could identify any species of fly. He said he was an anti-natalist, considering us unfit to bear children. Life was pain and death and he believed God made us to suffer it. Whenever he would converse with us at one of Smith’s little soirees, he would position himself to be closer to Ms Cherry, our seance group’s muse. Perhaps tonight would be the night that this mysterious man, who had never given his name on the pretence that it would signal a horseman to appear, would tell us why he carried a silver bell, inscribed with the name ‘Vlad Tepes’.
I can’t believe the garbage on Netflix. Most of the stuff on that platform should be shot. Randomly clicking, I found Black Summer, another zombie show, and I couldn’t get past the first five minutes. Dark Crystal, a slow burn fantasy with puppets that made my head spin with all the unnecessary world building, lasted ten minutes. All the movies looked terrible, the worst being a new Nic Cage movie with Amber Heard, which is literally the Marvel Comics modern day Ghost Rider storyline with a black Impala like in Supernatural, terrible camera work, three minutes of fast forwarding before I clicked off. Finally, Dracula. Another take on the novel but with more monster and a storyline built around the lingering questions from the book, like how did Jonathan Harker escape Castle Dracula, why do crucifixes hurt Drac, why does he have to be invited in to enter a home, why can’t he walk in sunlight, etc? See, that’s genius. Why reinvent the wheel when you can just turn it to go a way we all want. Apparently things are connected, the first episode was very good. Modern gothic horror with snark.