So, after a crazy week with some amazing (yeah, sure) posts, it’s business as usual here, with only one decent post this week (thanks Emma Ai Ahome)…
You ask yourself…where’s the rest of the commie bastards that work here?
Well, Frilly and Noisy are in France right now…y’see, this crazy chick stole some of Frilly’s special copy of Faith No More’s Angel Dust, so they both went into a smashing rampage of wanton destruction:
Y’see why you shouldn’t steal cds?? YOU GET MERC’ED!!!
Me? I’m more of a man of peace. I go to the park, look at the hot chicks with scarfs and read some Walpole …. until I get a bit peckish, y’see, so I go to my local purveyor of fermented curd and get some nice nice nice piece of Wensleydale.
Until today:
Crap on a stick!! YOU’LL NEVER GET ME ALIVEEEEE!!!
Those who know about music might have felt offended about the iac Moderatto reference in my last post, then I felt the moral obligation to clarify this issue: I was not, and I repeat NOT referring to the Moderato (notice one “t”) movement in classical music, that describes a way to play one part of a longer composition in a moderated speed, normally 80 crotchets per minute, slower than an allegretto (100 crotchets p/m). NOT AT ALL, I’m completely respectful about tempos and all the classical culture it holds.
Nevertheless, I meant the swearword, nay, THE INSULT that a bunch of Mexican “musicians” spelled against the music world with a “group” named Moderatto (notice double “t”):
Outrageous rocker posers, eighties look. This guys neither play rock nor have a style or anything, they are not even a real group, just a struck of luck.
They were created on the year 2000, as their last sly trick before the end of the world I guess. Unfortunately Earth didn’t ate us alive and we remained here to listen to them in every bad taste advertisement of soda, and look before our distressed eyes the embarrassing parade of spellbound fans they’ve got. How come they even got fans!?!?!
But hell, they show the world how to make a living out of the mentally handicapped mass:
The story of the band is obviously a laughing tale, if anyone with just a little bit of knowledge about Mexican rock knows that Javier “El Cha” (Xavi Moderatto, bass) and Jay de la Cueva (Brian Amadeus Moderatto, singer, guitar and piano, though I don’t know where they use this last one) are not even brothers but used to play in Fobia together, just for mentioning the stepping stones for the rest of the hallucination (please, tell me they are not real). Besides, Marcelo Lara (Mick P. Marcy, guitar) is a manager of a radio station, Reactor 105.7. A fact which, by the way, has been highly critizised by real musicians who accuse Marcelo of using its job for “personal purposes”, meaning publicity for Moderatto.
They have accepted the group is just a joke out of control, which intended at first to parody glam metal bands, but got followers willing to buy their albums.
da, da, da, da!!!!
da, da, da, da!!!!
Their songs are pitiful 80’s pop covers (seriously, they’ve got Parchis in their CV) with horrible wannabe metal guitar poses, and some stolen arrangements from real glam metal bands, using as well their aesthetic as declared posers. I’d play a sample but I don’t want to insult this blog, just as proof, they’ve got Motley Crüe’s “Home sweet home” piano arrangements mixed in a cover of a mexican ballad, trying to make it sound rocker.
The members are just characters as they already accepted, making fun of glam so… to me, being their fan would equal someone being crazy about a performance of Marilín Mensón, a character from a Mexican comedian Eugenio Derbez which parodies Marilyn Manson.
The life and times of cool daddy-o Victor Ward (or is it Johnson?) and his celebrity pals. Look, there’s Fred Durst, Lil’ Kim, Puff Daddy, Robbie Williams, Tara Reid and Gwyneth Paltrow. They came with Winona Ryder, Johnny Depp (a few meters away from her), Sugar Ray, Dj Sash, David Bowie and Renee Zellweger.
Give me some loving, baby!
I had a few problems with my friend. We were going to start this great bar and I just can’t shake the people from Telehit. They are doing this new reality show and decided to film the life and times of an upstart like me. I have Caifanes, Silvia Pinal, Jose Alfredo Jimenez’s unlawful kids, Antonio Banderas, Pedro Armendariz Jr, RBD and Lolita Ayala coming tonight to the great opening.
It would be fine if only I wasn’t banging Alicia, the girlfriend of Max, the guy I’m opening the bar with. It would be okay, but this idiots from Sonika have a picture of me and Alicia kissing at the last Zero Fest (even if I wasn’t there, although everyone says they saw me). This is okay, since we got along pretty good and my girlfriend Martha is so out of it on Xanax and Bacardi that she would barely notice. Not that I feel guilty. I’m uncapable of being guilty. I’m too good looking to be guilty.
I’m trying to avoid my father, keep searching the rags to see if I made it again on the front cover (I was in La Mosca last month) and some stupid guys in black cars keep following me.
But life is good, baby, I’m meeting Chetes, Ximena Sariñana, the cast from Avenida Q (only those who are gay for real, I want integrity on my musicals), Horacio Villalobos and Daniela Lujan for some fusion sushi at La Condesa. I wonder if there’s an afterparty?
Is there, like, any moving pictures of this?
Movies are overrated, baby, use your imagination. Or some E with a nice Chablis.
Tell us, is this an exit?
With Bret Easton Ellis, there’s no such thing as an exit.
Out of all the zany (but not in a good way) characters from Rules of Attraction, I gotta admit my favorite always is and always was and always will be good ol’ Victor Johnson (or is it Ward?). His drug/sex/madness inducing trip to Europe was the standout point from the movie and one of the best parts from the book (and it helps that the actor portraying Victor looks a little like Beck, a fave musician of mine).
Anyhoo, you’d think I liked this book a lot and would praise it up to heaven, but no, actually no. It’s quite a mixed book. It has a point to drive, sadly, it drives it to the ground, takes out, gives it a shake or two, and then continues to pummel it. Show, don’t tell.
There’s endless and endless paragraphs talking about how many celebrities are at each party, so much that it looks like a bad article from Entertainment Weekly. So many names are dropped upon you and I know it’s to prove the point that society is celebrity obsessed, but once you’d made your point, you should stop unless you want to make the book a chore.
Sadly, this keeps going. The whole first part of this humongous book (it’s 546 pages long) goes on and on about celebrity obsession in society and granted, there’s some very good stuff here, but it’s too repetitive. Then there’s the twist. This twist is what made basis for Easton Ellis’ plagiarism remarks about Zoolander (strangely enough, Ben Stiller is name dropped in the book) and after the book, y’know what? It was a very, very frivolous lawsuit.
So, after 140 pages or so of funny Victor Ward living the good life, we get a barrage of social commentary and acts of random violence that although entertaining, they become repetitive. I kid you not, Victor is described as “weeping” almost in every single page in the second and third parts of the book. He’s always weeping. Thesaurus, Bret?
The story starts to go very, very far out on the left field and I do like this sort of stuff, but it takes ages for something, anything to happen. When it happens, it’s so gory it ends up being just, well, boring. You can take up so much gore until you are numb to it all and just don’t give a flying monkey.
I skipped one chapter that was one long sex scene. Sorry, it was absolute tosh. Nothing to see here, move along.
As the book nears its end, it goes way too crazy, extremely dreamlike and the ending is quite open-ended. I might dare to say it’s the most open-ended book by Easton Ellis I’ve read. At least with American Psycho you have to choices (he’s a serial killer or it’s all in his head) and in Rules of Attraction you get the point (life just goes by for these people, floating like driftwood), but here… it’s so bizarre that the only thing I know is that I’ll probably read this in a few years and like it.
(with apologies to Family Guy, females all over the world, sexy tamales and Noisy Bishop)
Hello, Mexico and rest of the world (power of the FRIJOLES UNITE!!!). It hasn’t been a good week to be me, no it hasn’t.
Not only do I have to watch a few blubbering emodirge movies for my work and hand in positive reviews (I have ZERO integrity, natch!), but my iPod got fubar’ed on the mexican Metro.
So, yeah, people of Mexico, if you read this then please, please, PRETTY FEKKIN’ PLEASE… use condoms, okay? Or WALK to work, but don’t come around like a bunch of teeny boppers on the Metro selling me fekkin’ stupid stand up comedies on pirate discs or a collection of alternative hits of the 90s (with Smash Mouth’s only hit of the 2000s and Robbie Williams’ Feel…real alternative, dig?) and pushing me or not apologizing when you drop the book I’m reading when YOU PUSH ME…
This is what I'm gonna do if I ever hear those fekkin' twats selling those "comedy discs" again...
And to that effect, what the flipping baleros is wrong with the Metrobus? Yeah, replace a sh1tload of buses with a tiiiiiiiiny teeennsyy pair of buses that OBVIOUSLY is working above the allowed limits. Instead of spending the taxpayers money in underground wallpapers (in tunnels, nonetheless) and PROPAGANDA for a presidential race that comes until 2012, why not buy a few more units for the Metrobus?
This is the person that planned the Metrobus
And before you think “yo, Frilly, you said this blog isn’t political, lolz!!!” well, I’m chickening out and changing the subject…. I gave my 2-weeks last monday and today I met the dude that’s gonna replace me. The poor bugger does NOT know the kind of clusterfekk he’s walking into, really. It’s like I was eaten by a great white shark and I’m begin expelled on the other end and see the next victim and I just wince my eye and say ” I DONT ENVY YOU! “
But I digest. And then digress. And I see that I started 2 paragraphs with “and”. That’s a no-no. Also, I see that I’ve started TWO sentences with And. That’s another no-no. Also, I see that I’m abusing “no-no” to try to be hip.
Off topic, does “no-no” should really be hyphened?
Anyways, so there I was, writing my reviews at the work and all, when allova sudden this dry (expletive deleted) bint that I’ve been chatting up IRL tells me by e-mail (not even telephone, for Jebus’ sakes! HECK, not even TEXT MESSAGE!! THE CHEAP PLONK!!!) that she’s dumping my arse because she says I’ve have (get this) “low sense of self” and that she’s grown out of people “of my sort”.
DRAINAGE, ELI BOY!
Sorry? Hello? You are a sexless piece of dumped-white-trash -retailer-park – emodirgesinging – putrid- Evian- water – drinking-moronic- smiling- mortart and brick minded -bucktoothed -robbie williams adorer – olympicgamesoogler- senseless-piece-of- pretentious- bitch-on a mighty high horse. You suck so much for judging someone and getting a flippin’ bad excuse like that. If that’s the best you can do I feel sorry for you and whoever goes near that rotten custard and rhubarb pudding you call a brain. I even feel worse about the germs that have to digest that and turn it into something MORE valuable than your opinion of me.
Boo. Hiss. You suck.
Phew, for a moment there, I lost myself, I lost myself, I lost myself, I lost myseeeelf … I mean, I had to get that one outta the system, didn’t I ?
Anyhoo, I decided to go for a nice goat cheese and chicken salad at the deli when it turns out that the lovable girl with the nice smile that used to work there is vamoooosed!!! Holy Moses Turds on Beans, Batman! Dammit shipflangingdivbombed JEBUS! I really liked her and she was real friendly and WHO THE PEJE* AM I KIDDING? She wouldn’t go out with a sad old tosser like me.
You'd recognize her, she looks a bit like....oops!
But anyhoo, I had a good meal and there I was, practicing my seventies-style swagger….when this massive ANGER FROM GOD rain came outta nowhere and made me scurry around like a little senseless defenseless adjectiveless ant.
FrillySwagger!
Then I got hit by a car and I’m writing this on a lap my good friend, NOISY BISHOP (yo!, bitch, you gonna die a virgin!!!) brought to me to the hospital… so… EVERYTHING’S FINE… like she says (click the link..I DARE YA!!!)
So….argh… I dun a poo. I’m exhausted and now my blog, my precious and lovely blog will be in the hands of emodirge blubbathon lover NOISY BISHOP and his cohorts.
If anything happens to it, I’m chasing you cnuts and cutting you up and selling you as roadkill to the nearest mcdonalds…buncha chavs!!!
I hope you can make it, guys, I really do… It’s not easy being the troubled man I am….
Oh, and if you read this post and don’t click to see Electrelane, well, I respect your opinion.
*Oops, I lied…
PS: I don’t only hate the yellow and black suckblobs from PRD. I also hate the holier-than-thou-twats from PAN and the jingoistic money grubbing tossers from PRI. I’m an equal opportunity hater, that’s me, yes it is.
Welcome to this succinct and rather stupid new column, where we analyze humanity’s stupidity and give an according Chris Tucker of Excellence Award.
Imagine you are rich. Yes, you have a brickload of cash collecting germs and sweat in your wallet. You got three butlers (two skilled in some deadly martial art you saw on a Tommy Lee Jones movie and the other one is sexually ambiguous). You got a wife, a lover, a mistress, a few kids in a few dozen postal zips (and time zones) and maybe a few cars you saw on the “cool wall” in Top Gear.
What else will you on the rest of the day, besides checking out your friendly lawnmower man, Tender Branson, has enough prozac for his fish? Well, eat the good stuff.
Moussaka, Lasagna, Veal, Shallots, Layer Cakes, Digestive biscuits, Fillet Mignon. All those things that maybe meant “rich and powerful and stupid” to you when you were a nipper.
Ya better believe it, fella! It’s a 175 dollar hamburger! You get:
-Prime meat (meaning it’s not rotten).
-Foie gras (who cares about karma? you are rich)
-Truffles (yeah, fungus, whatevaaah)
-Gruyere cheese (you pay more for less cheese…it’s full of people, idiots!!)
-Gold shavings (as in, the precious metal, Au, you know?)
Wonder if you could be bothered to search your own droppings to get some of your investment back?
’sides, if you can afford this, you might as well treat yourself and get yourself some sweet dessert. How does 25000 dollars for a chocolate sound to you?
That’s right, for the price of, I dunno, a Solstice or a Mitsubishi Spyder or a Ford Mustang, you can buy some of Serendipity’s chocolate goodness.
I mean, it’s not the first time Serendipity makes a stupidly priced dessert, but this easy takes the cake! I mean, if it included, I dunno, Kate Beckinsale (in Underworld clothes, of course), then I’d pay it. I mean, it’s not like the place has a mice problem.
Left: Worth 25,000 buck and my spleen. Right: Maybe 250 pesos.
So yeah, if you are rich and want to treat yourself to some gold and mice-droppings-laced food, go ahead. You know, it’s your money, it’s your digestive system. 25,000 dollars + mice droppings + foie gras + evil hamburger o’brokeness (TM) equals:
I was looking at several videos on youtube and I wonder I wonder, what happened to After Forever??? Their debut, Prison of Desire (released on 2000) came out, true it is, with a whole wave of new symphonic metal bands, and you know how waves are: A bunch of clones with different faces following the style of three or four role models that have a spirit of their own. One of those role models was After Forever.
Do note the swift changes between soprano and natural tone…sheer poetry!
They used the basis of gothic metal lines, sparkling a bit with a little bit of heavy metal and progressive trash sometimes shadowed in doom, always putting it all together with classical arrangements. Yes, we’ve seen that, but not in their style. They used to have a sound of their own, mixing elements in an ancient, very orchestral way, showing off the Floor Jansen’s marvelous voice.
Decipher, their second album, even better elaborated than first one, with the powerful Monolyth of Doubt and true art pieces as My Pledge of Allegiance 1, was a gift to symphonic metal audience. Pipe organs, violins, cellos, oboe, empowered by guitars, bass and drums as a true metal orchestra; always ancient,classical and dynamic.
They were so good!!!!
And then why….ooooh why they had to have “musical differences” and throw Mark Jansen out of the group? In his grief, he had to go out and make himself better with a new project, Epica, and the Invisible Circles from After Forever comes out with more heavy alternative issues and less art. They used to go in one song from one shape to another just in time, and now can´t seem to put together what looks like a metro stop remix of styles. Remagine is Nightwish’s unwanted son (featuring Susie 4 and a metal hammer version of Celine Dion)… why is she doing that with her soprano register???
Even worse, has anyone slipped them a memorandum asking to play the same song again and again and again? Or switch on and off their “talent button”? It looks like a “War of the bands” try-out instead of a bonafide rock outfit:
The Doctor and his silly bint arrive at a public library, meet a bunch of red shirts and are chased by a biology lab style skeleton in an astronaut suit. There’s also a creeptastic little girl with a particular hairdo and Morpheus has a new job since the Matrix ordeal…
Rant:
So after a rather mixed bag of an episode, we get to Steven Moffat’s “this one’s the scary one!” two-parter, a veritable greatest hits of what made his previous storieswork so well.
Tried and true, then? You could call it lazy, but I like to think it’s “his signature”. Or maybe it’s lazy, I dunno, it’s a real cool one.
But I digest. And I digress.
Anyhoo, so Doc Barty Crouch Jr. and Silly Donna mosey around the library, looking for some vintage Palahniuk, when they catch up with a bunch of red shirts2001 rejects archaeologists who are also roaming the place.
They start to argue around a bit, and there’s this tubby chick who although is a bit old looks quite nice. She starts being a bit quirky, but turns out she knows who the Doctor is (see what i did there?). This obviously piques his curiosity.
Meanwhile, no more than a scary swallow flight away, we get the british equivalent of Sadako and Morpheus, chatting in a rather nice looking house with a rather stupid looking dad (okay, dopey! he’s dopey!). Morpheus speaks on Fishburnese, so none of us, the general public, nor the little girl, the patient, can understand bric or brac or keep track of what the mofo is saying. The girl seems to have magic powers…is this Chocky?
Back to the library (uh?), well, the nice looking girl with the expedition (not the tubby one, but the skinny dopey one with a big arse sign that says “I’M GONNA DIE JUST ABOUT IN FIVE SECONDS, HALP!!?!?!” gets, well, turned into a plastic skeleton nicked from a biology lab.
No, seriously, she gets topped like that. There’s some scary bits with disembodied voices and some hoopla about chicken legs. Yes, it’s that confusing. He tells them to leave, but the idjits just won’t lissen. Ah, kids today.
Oh, btw, the Tubby Scientist? She has a diary…in the form of a TARDIS! I want one!
Switch back to the creepy kid. She behaves creepy. Morpheus speaks in riddle. Someone arrest them, they speak in math and buzz like a fridge.
Back to Dr. Serious Feepo, Laura Donna and the Red Shirts. Another astronaut gets topped and the Tubby Girl that taunts poor Dr. Feepo brandishes a gun (hey, that’s from Captain Jack, you silly bint!!) and makes a fekkin’ big hole in the plot wall.
Meanwhile, Doc Silly Feepo puts Donna on some silly transmat thing stole from Star Trek and then another plastic skeleton dons a spacesuit and LUMBERS MENACINGLY towards our heroes and BOOO-YAH! Cliffhanger!!!
Random Thoughts (timecoded so you can check ‘em out if you have the patience…)
00:20 she’s high!
01:30 WTF?!?!?!
02:20 she dresses like Rose now?
05:00 Creeporama!
05:49 Ursula?
07:35 I would hop into the Tardis and hightail outta here!!
09:05 Moffat, what you smokin’ mate?
10:26 Is this the planet of the Ursulas?
11:20 JEBUS ALMIGHTY!!! Creepy!
12:15 Hey, it’s the Stig from Top Gear!
12:50 Red shirts in white suits
13:00 Cool it, David, you’ll pop your eye out like that!
19:00 a telephone that rings but it’s not ringing? that’s from life on mars!
19:56 officially confused!
21:45 Is this Click?
27:08 quick and clean?
31:01 She’s your one night stand from Nottingham, dude!
31:50 Stupid psychologist!!! You are not helping!
33:20 Bad news, Donna…
36:20 Oh, dude, you divorced her and she keep the screwdriver!
36:40 DONNA LET ME EXPLAIN (mutters: good riddance!)
38:00 – 38:44 FRIJOLES!!!! need new pants, mate!
40:52 FEKKK ME!!!
So there I was, traveling in the Mexican metro. Another day on the daily grind, another peso earned, another step closer to death.
Mebbe i shoulda stop readin’ ‘em pessimistic novels and go for something more peppy, happy-go-lucky style of book.
Nah, that ain’t me.
Any-gueys, I was on the metro, minding my own business and looking at those fine girls at the metro when a police dude decides to go Serpico on me.
“Please open your bag” said Johnny Q. Law, in a despicable voice and an even worse breath.
“Is there a reason why i should?” asketh I, thou trendy, finger-in-this-generation-pulse friendly ranter.
The policeman only tapped his gun.
So i obliged, duly. He checked everything and then pulled out some scissors I had with me.
“Ah ha! AN OFFENSIVE WEAPON!!!!” he claimed, expecting the people to stagger in horror at the sight of some Barrilito scissors.
“Dude, those are ‘punta chatita’ style scissors. They can’t do any harm!” I said, pointing at the rounded-up points of the scissors.
“What?”
“They do not have any stabbing points, they are blunt on the front, you nitwit!”
“They can do no harm?”
“No, they can’t”
“But….what if i do..THIS!?!?!”
He then cut my book in half (damn you, Fondo de Cultura Económico and your thin books!!). He then started to laugh maniacally, running around with the scissors, attacking the general public. He cut the face of some movie star on the newspaper a trendy girl was reading. He cut the iPod earbuds on some short cropped hair dude. He lobbed off the hand of a little girl’s Barbie Doll. He tried to cut the dreadlocks from some reggae dude selling off copies of Bob Marley’s Legend.
Then the metro suddenly stopped. The policeman flew through the air, with the scissors wide open and impaled himself with them, dying horribly and very slowly. His death throes were unnerving and some kids were taping them in their cell phones, probably uploading them at youtube in the night (or at that very moment if they have WAP access).
I took the scissors’ packing from my bag and read that they were “safe scissors”. Oh, there’s a little tiny print warning.
“Do not use in public transport. Usage of this equipment on a moving vehicle void any liability from Barrilito Industries”.
I shrugged, dropped the packing on the nearest trash can and went my merry way. I passed by a public pay phone and it was ringing. I picked it up. I said “hello” and then my cell phone rang. I answered and said “hello!”, listening to myself on both phones at the same time.
A voice on the pay phone said:
Look I gotta go, yeah, I’m running out of change
There’s a lot of things if I could I’d rearrange.
The smell of sulfur surrounded me, so I hung up and kept walking, climbing up the stairs in a 70’s style swagger, stopping for a esquite and getting a stomach infection. Such is life.
If only something like this happened, my day would’ve been better:
Volumen 3: Meatloaf – I’d do anything for love (but I won’t do that)
Frilly’s note: It seems I have an “Animal Farm” situation here… excuse while I kiss the sky…whoops! it’s a fat lady!! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!
Emma ai notconfused hates King Kong
Wow….i’m impressed!!!Cerca de ocho grueling minutes begging for an end… y cuando al fin llegó… ¡quería lavarme los ojos…con alcohol!
What the hell is that beauty and beast-dracula-notredamehunchback combo?? They didn’t need to make such a freakin’ video, the song was already Frankie enough!! But at the and I can understand Michael Bay, he was just trying to use all those surplus special effects and props from his last movies… but still I was only waiting for something to explode (please let it be the singer’s head).
And well, there’s a bike chase, some werewolf-in-the-woods running scene, a small castle which comes out to be huge inside (it’s the TARDIS!!!) and besides has a high-tech moving chair; also the sexy Dracula (sadly for imightbeelvis, no Monica Belucci) bed and a female singer who screams up the couch all Bonnie Tyler style. How I’m I supposed to know what he was trying to say if my ears are bleeding from that voice? MaybeBay is all “I’m ready dude, if anyone has pretty much any kind of script, just bring it on, I can do it!! I’m bored!!! I just gotta edit it reeeeally fast and that’s it! IT DELIVERS!!!”
What I did not get at all is the song… he won’t do what?? Finish the song?? Is there any right that protects songs from idleness? Any way, probably he’s just saying “I have a dream” that he can make a new style but obviously needs some urgent advising, ‘cause he doesn’t seem to know the difference between an amalgam and a jumble. Heck, I don’t even know if this post will survive Frilly’s editorializing!! (It won’t, my girl – xxx luvFrilly)
I want to dedicate these last lines to Frilly, who seems to be having some severe mental issues lately… or he’s in love, or we are losing him over the pinky cutie demons of romantic plastic artists. We are all with you Frilly!!!! Don’t go to the light, darkness is much better!!! I hope you may recover soon and give us different stuff to analyze this time, I’m worried about you….and seriously, I have an alcohol bottle right beside my PC. (share, share world! – Frilly)
Homo Rodans is Morpheus
Something is terribly wrong with Frillyshirt. Está es la tercer canción/video in a row que nos hace “analizar” con una temática poperoide romanticoide comercialoide. Podríase pensar que es el efecto de la carne al pastor de la fiesta del Noisy Bishop, pero el fenomeno empezó semanas antes que eso….
En fin….al menos en este video (de casi 8 minutos, holy cow!!) me pude chutar la segunda mitad del mismo sin mucho desagrado gracias a la apropiada participación de la Bella en esta semblanza de la Bella y la Bestia meet Glam rock meet Extreme Make Over meet Dracula meet Comisionado Gordon de la nueva película de Batman meet Terminator 2 meet midlife crisis.
¿Que quizo decir con el video el director de esta amalgama romanticista de corte Disneylandezco? ¿Que no salga uno borracho en motocicleta despues de una fiesta de Halloween so pena de encontrar que el amor de su vida es una cantante de Opera Vampira que hace levitar los muebles y de ser perseguido por la PFP con helicpteros y toda la cosa? ¿Será este el HUMMER H2 de los videos de Hard Rock….gastalón, inutil pero que si se le mira con paciencia se le encuentra la belleza?
En fin, espero que frilly nos sorprenda con una nueva temática en el proximo análisis. Por lo pronto, no me queda más que decir que alguien que se hace llamar Meat Loaf solo podria ser digno de escucharse en los pasillos de CarniSalchiChoneria de la Comercial Mexicana.
I might be Elvis loves Feepo!
WTF? Seriously, Frilly, you still pining after that girl (link removed – Frilly). Jebus almighty and his BBQ grill, you gotta let go. Trust me on this, trust me on this and please DO TRUST ME ON THIS!!!! DO NOT LET THE SHINY LIGHTS, QUICK PACE AND FUNKADELIC MOOD GET YOU!!!
This is romantic opera rock for people who think Cristal y Acero were the bee’s bollocks (or is it the dog’s knees?). This schmaltzy piece of contrived love song poses a question and never has the gall to answer it!
WHAT IS IT, YOU B*TCH T*TS?!?!?! WHAT WON’T YOU DO?? This is worse than that Michael Bolton song (link here, click UNDER YOUR OWN RISK!!!!)
Even worse, the chick DOES sing like Bonnie Tyler, but Bonnie Tyler ain’t this horn inducing! Why should we watch this dross when this hot chick is right there, just waiting for some hard-arsed geezers like us to just stand with MOUTHS AGAPE oogling her!!! OOOGLY DOOOGLY!! Feepo likey see. Jebus, Michael Bay has no perspective!!!
Noisy Bishop looooves the pizza
Ah… Frilly really loves that girl this song reminds him, innit? (See you at the exit, b1tch ¬¬ – Frilly). It’s simple: all the things the girl is saying (fooling around, etc) are the things he won’t do.
I’m just ruining the fun, innit? I’ll join the Frilly bashing then. Y’see, besides him being a terrible editor (Screw you, you runny rhubarb sniffer!!! – Frilly) he really has some personal hygiene issues, dislikes cats and has an affinity to sing Xiu Xiu’s cover of Queen’s “Under Pressure”.
No, wait, that’s me.
Frilly is going to fire them...
Okay, bola de arrastrados psicópatas amantes del mochaorejas y de fabiruchis ¡¡¡NO ESTOY ENAMORADO!!! ¡¡He puesto tres 3 tres rolas azotadas porque es lo que vende y tienen los videos más idiotas (no cuento el de Bejarano…)!! Es el principio de este sitio. ¿Y ‘ora por qué todos en inglés o en pocho? ¡Ni que estuviéramos en la redacción de R&R! Nomás porque mis demás colaboradores no postean (¡¡Ogooooo!!).
No sé por qué piensan que sigo enamorado de Rocío, es más, ni siquiera recuerdo su nombre.
Pero a los que nos truje: este video es el punto en que Michael Bay dijo “no tengo talento, pero edito bien chingón”. El punto del video, lo que nos quiere decir, su función social, su …ARGÉ es: somos Hollywood, tenemos mucha lana. Tomen esto, Etiopía.
A todo esto… este video necesita más explosiones, más banderas estadounidenses y al menos UNA toma en cámara lenta caminando hacia la cámara… sólo así concederé que realmente lo dirigió Michael Bay y no un clon barato.
(ALERTA DE CHISTE LOCAL)
Por cierto, este post se lo atribuyo a Ogo. Espero que lo lea en un VIPS (ya compra internet y centro de lavado, hermano) y se empieza a cajetear de la risa como cuando vio el video de los quesitos en las colinas de Inglaterra o como cuando contó su chiste de su encuentro con el diablo.
(/TERMINA CHISTE LOCAL)
¿Saben? Me siento mal por Meat Loaf (¿Vá junto o separado? Ah, me da webita editorial…soy como los de la Jornada o el Reforma), porque después de esto, NADA le pegó y hasta salió agarrado de la cutícula con Jim Steinman.
Eh, bueno, hasta la próxima.
Ogo fuma en el VIPS
No, hermanos, esto está como que del Diablo y nomás no entiendo. Ahí los leo al rato, tengo unos monstruos que dibujar.
Y en la próxima edición: THE PRESIDENTS OF THE UNITED STATES of AMERICA!
PD: Look who’s back
RTD - Writer extraordinaire yeah!!
THIS SONG DELIVERS!!! You are all good persons, but are just confused straights not in touch with your emotions! GET YOUR CRYING TOWELS OUT!!!!
. Jebus, Michael Bay has no perspective!!!
