My fellow penguins,
We stand upon a great threshold! It’s perfectly okay to be frightened; most of you won’t be coming back. But, thanks to the success of the Batman movies, the time has come to punish all humans! Not just the first born either, second, third and fourth born too. Why be biased? Male and female! The sexes are equal so let’s treat them as such. Blow them all sky high! Forward march! The liberation of the penguin nation has begun!
The Penguins.
My dear penguins,
We have, through our contacts in the penguin underworld, intercepted the aforementioned letter. It would seem clear to us that you and yours intend to cause harm to the people in general. Please note that you are a penguin and as such are rather restricted in movement and let’s be honest a bit on the short side too. Being the benevolent species that we are it has been decided to let your initial threats slide for now. Please bear in mind however that if your threats continue or if indeed you attempt to follow through on said threats we the people shall be left with no alternative than to use all the force at our disposal. Now waddle along there and go warm an egg.
The People.
Dear People,
We scoff at your ignorance. Small and restricted in movement we may be but underestimate us at your peril. We were chilling out and knocking back cold ones in the Antarctic while your ape like ancestors were still sucking their mother’s tit and picking fleas from their asses. Through no fault of ours the ice caps are melting and our habitat has come under direct threat. We the penguins view this as an act of war and as such have declared war on you the people. Lets be honest here it isn’t our SUV’s that are causing the damage now is it.
The Penguins.
Dear Penguins,
Don’t make us open a can of whoop ass on you!
The People.
Dear People,
Don’t make us get the polar bears involved!
The Penguins.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Pie Bald Paddy
Pie Bald Paddy they came to call him which was a real stroke of genius seeing as it was his name. He’s a traveller by trade having spent many a long year studying maps and atlases and globes. Eventually he graduated and was given a bus pass but soon he had acquired enough money to buy his own set of wheels. Well he bought an ould van and the wheels he stole. But it was an expected surprise to everyone when they heard who it was and I’m sure I suppose no more of a surprise to anyone more than those who were surprised the most. Pie Bald Paddy was an existential traveller vigilante, travelling from halting site to halting site fighting crimes such as horse thieving, inter family feuding, inter family fornication, rationalism and positivism. There wasn’t many who could best him at the slash hook or the pick axe handle. He was a familiar figure of that there’s little doubt both loved and loathed in equal measure. His bruised and battered van a frequent fixture at irregular intervals on the flat barren undulating countryside here in the city, and if it wasn’t for his regular visits to the halting site sure nobody would have seen him at all. I’d almost nearly never see him only when he’d call over on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays to fix a saucepan or steal a gate or fix a gate and steal a saucepan or sometimes both and sometimes neither. Sometimes he wouldn’t come over at all and other times he’d be here all along. Sure you couldn’t be up to him he was an awful character and full of beans. Jaysus the smell out of him at times would kill a horse, at other times the horse wouldn’t notice it at all, but he could shite for Ireland, your man now, not the horse. I one time hear tell of a tale of a lad of the size of your man who ate a horrid feed of beans and they had to get the fire brigade out to get him down of a pile of shite that he let rip out of his hole. He had only intended to fart but the clutch slipped and before he knew it he couldn’t get stopped. The chief inspector with the fire brigade said that if it wasn’t for the saving grace of having some bad stitching in the seat of his pants he’d likely have backed up and most probably exploded and killed all in the place. Or maybe not all in the place but some, and likely most, or if not exploded he would most certainly have bloated and farted and most likely have killed the horse or at the very least he’d have creased his shirt and embarrassed the animal. Well he came round the corner like a whore on wheels grabbed me by the scruff of the ankles and demanded to know why I didn’t think human beings created the meaning of their own destinies. I have to admit at the time I was in a bit of a pickle and emitted a small noise of the very sort a dolphin makes when it’s been caught committing adultery. I figured there was little point in arguing and stated my case that although I may have stood accused of being a logical positivist I saw myself more as somewhere between an apathetic agnostic and an agnostic atheist. He dropped me, jumped into his van and fled. It was a close one.
Max pull over the gate before the fucker comes back ....
Max pull over the gate before the fucker comes back ....
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Damn Cyclists....
God damn and blast to all fuckers on bikes. Twice this week I’ve been forced to drive at ten miles an hour because the dozy bint in the car in front refused to overtake a cyclist. Yes it may be a narrow road and yes there may be cars coming in the opposite direction but if you are so lacking in spatial awareness not to realise you could safely navigate the cyclist then you shouldn’t be driving a car. As for the fuckers on bikes, if you want to be green then cross the fucking fields. Then over the wireless a sultry voiced woman said "as Christmas is just around the corner isn’t it time you started thinking about…" I said NO. I wanted to rip the radio out of the dashboard and roar fuck you and the horse you rode in on into it. Christmas my hole I’m still waiting for summer. I got chatting at a tourist the other day and he asked me in all seriousness when summer was in Ireland, I said it’s hard to tell, last year it was a Wednesday. There is a grand smell of slurry in the air here today. It's the kind of smell that makes your toes curl and burns all the hair out of your nostrils. It reminds me of my childhood when my father use to make us shite into buckets and then spread them across his vegetable patch. Organic he called it. I've never been able to look a carrot in the face since...
Max close the porthole there's an awful smell of shite ...
Max close the porthole there's an awful smell of shite ...
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Fancy A Drink ...
A recent magazine survey, interviewed fifty bartenders and they were asked if they could identify a customer's personality on what drinks they ordered? Although interviewed separately, they concurred on almost all counts.
The results:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IF WOMEN DRINK THESE DRINKS IN A PUB (not at home).
BEER
Personality: Casual, low maintenance; down to earth.
Approach: Challenge her to a game of pool.
COCKTAILS OR BLENDER DRINKS WITH UMBRELLA
Personality: Flaky, annoying, dizzy, and a pain in the ass.
Approach: Avoid her, unless you want to be her cabin boy.
MIXED DRINKS - NO UMBRELLAS E.G.; GIN AND TONIC / SCOTCH AND SODA
Personality: Mature, has picky taste; knows what she wants
Approach: If she wants you, she'll send YOU a drink.
WATER
Personality: Pretentious and is looking for a serious relationship.
Approach: Don't.
WINE - (BOTTLED, NOT 4 LITRE CASK)
Personality: Conservative and classy, sophisticated.
Approach: Try and weave Paris and clothing into the conversation.
BACARDI BREEZER, RED SQUARE, ARCHERS COOLER, SMIRNOFF ICE, MUDSHAKE ETC.
Personality: Easy; thinks she is trendy and sophisticated actually has no clue.
Approach: Make her feel smarter than she is... and you're in.
SPIRITS SUCH AS CC, WILD TURKEY, SOUTHERN COMFORT
Personality: Watch out, they are unique! A real mixture of personalities. Love to be laid!
Approach: Talk dirty to them whilst challenging them intellectually - you're in!
CAPE VELVET
Personality: Annoying voice, bit of a tart.
Approach: Stand close and mention the alley next to the pub.
SHOTS AND SLAMMERS (TEQUILA, VODKA, COWBOYS, AFTERSHOCK ETC.)
Personality: Hangs around with male work pals or looking to get drunk.
Approach: Easiest hit in the pub, nothing to do but wait...
SPIRITS SUCH AS JACKS, BEAM & BUNDY
Personality: Enjoys male company more than females, loves to party hard
Approach: Keep buying them drinks, they'll think you're a nice bloke and they are probably trying to work out how to get you to bed!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IF MEN DRINK in a PUB (as always, very simple and clear cut).
CIDER
He's probably under-aged and wants to get laid.
CHEAP DOMESTIC BEER
He's poor / student and wants to get laid.
CASTLE LAGER BEER
He likes good beer and wants to get laid.
IMPORTED BEER
He's old; he likes good beer and wants to get laid.
GUINNESS
The man is a rapist and will get laid one way or another.
WATER
He just threw up and is trying to wash the taste out of his mouth so that he can still get laid
WINE
He's hoping that the wine thing will give him a sophisticated image and help him get laid.
VODKA OR BRANDY
Extremely horny hound, would shag a warm scarf. Desperate to get laid.
PORT
Thinks he's sophisticated, secretly likes men and wants to get laid.
WHISKY/JACK DANIELS
He doesn't give two $hits about anything and will hit anyone who will get in his way of getting laid.
JIM BEAM
Not as masculine as the whisky drinker, knows all about feminine activities (knitting, crochet etc.) to weasel himself into getting laid.
RUM OR TEQUILA
Likes fighting almost as much as getting laid.
BACARDI BREEZER, RED SQUARE, ARCHERS COOLER, SMIRNOFF ICE, ETC
He's gay (blatantly) - don't turn your back or pick up any dropped change.
REMEMBER DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE ....
The results:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IF WOMEN DRINK THESE DRINKS IN A PUB (not at home).
BEER
Personality: Casual, low maintenance; down to earth.
Approach: Challenge her to a game of pool.
COCKTAILS OR BLENDER DRINKS WITH UMBRELLA
Personality: Flaky, annoying, dizzy, and a pain in the ass.
Approach: Avoid her, unless you want to be her cabin boy.
MIXED DRINKS - NO UMBRELLAS E.G.; GIN AND TONIC / SCOTCH AND SODA
Personality: Mature, has picky taste; knows what she wants
Approach: If she wants you, she'll send YOU a drink.
WATER
Personality: Pretentious and is looking for a serious relationship.
Approach: Don't.
WINE - (BOTTLED, NOT 4 LITRE CASK)
Personality: Conservative and classy, sophisticated.
Approach: Try and weave Paris and clothing into the conversation.
BACARDI BREEZER, RED SQUARE, ARCHERS COOLER, SMIRNOFF ICE, MUDSHAKE ETC.
Personality: Easy; thinks she is trendy and sophisticated actually has no clue.
Approach: Make her feel smarter than she is... and you're in.
SPIRITS SUCH AS CC, WILD TURKEY, SOUTHERN COMFORT
Personality: Watch out, they are unique! A real mixture of personalities. Love to be laid!
Approach: Talk dirty to them whilst challenging them intellectually - you're in!
CAPE VELVET
Personality: Annoying voice, bit of a tart.
Approach: Stand close and mention the alley next to the pub.
SHOTS AND SLAMMERS (TEQUILA, VODKA, COWBOYS, AFTERSHOCK ETC.)
Personality: Hangs around with male work pals or looking to get drunk.
Approach: Easiest hit in the pub, nothing to do but wait...
SPIRITS SUCH AS JACKS, BEAM & BUNDY
Personality: Enjoys male company more than females, loves to party hard
Approach: Keep buying them drinks, they'll think you're a nice bloke and they are probably trying to work out how to get you to bed!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IF MEN DRINK in a PUB (as always, very simple and clear cut).
CIDER
He's probably under-aged and wants to get laid.
CHEAP DOMESTIC BEER
He's poor / student and wants to get laid.
CASTLE LAGER BEER
He likes good beer and wants to get laid.
IMPORTED BEER
He's old; he likes good beer and wants to get laid.
GUINNESS
The man is a rapist and will get laid one way or another.
WATER
He just threw up and is trying to wash the taste out of his mouth so that he can still get laid
WINE
He's hoping that the wine thing will give him a sophisticated image and help him get laid.
VODKA OR BRANDY
Extremely horny hound, would shag a warm scarf. Desperate to get laid.
PORT
Thinks he's sophisticated, secretly likes men and wants to get laid.
WHISKY/JACK DANIELS
He doesn't give two $hits about anything and will hit anyone who will get in his way of getting laid.
JIM BEAM
Not as masculine as the whisky drinker, knows all about feminine activities (knitting, crochet etc.) to weasel himself into getting laid.
RUM OR TEQUILA
Likes fighting almost as much as getting laid.
BACARDI BREEZER, RED SQUARE, ARCHERS COOLER, SMIRNOFF ICE, ETC
He's gay (blatantly) - don't turn your back or pick up any dropped change.
REMEMBER DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE ....
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Canada Land
I have recently returned from an excursion to CanadaLand and a friendlier more hospitable place you’d be hard pressed to find. We rented a car to assist us in getting about and when I booked it over the interweb I opted for a Yaris or similar thinking a small car would be easier to navigate through unfamiliar city streets. After going through the bits and pieces with the Avis girl and collecting the keys we were surprised to see that our car was much larger than we had anticipated. It wasn’t a Yaris it was a mahoosive Dodge Charger and only similar to a Yaris in so much as it had four wheels an engine and people could sit in it. I’d never driven a car so big and quickly developed a pain in my neck from trying to keep an eye on both wing mirrors. It was more akin to sailing a boat than driving a car. Thankfully we also rented a satellite navigation system, which I christened Brigit, so I only had to point the bow and steer.
Toronto is a great city, a big city, and much like any other big city there is plenty to see and do. We went to see Casa Loma which was built by the infamous Canadian architect E. J. Lennox, who was the two ends of a bastard by all accounts. He was commissioned by Sir Henry Pellatt who made his fortune from hydro power and wanted a house fit for a king so Lennox built him a castle on the proviso that Lennox could build a house out of whatever materials were left. Lennox being the cute hoor that he was put himself in charge of purchasing the materials and low and behold he had enough left over to build a wee mansion for himself. In the end Pellatt lost all his money, and his big house, and ended up living in squalor in a basement flat with his driver. A sad story no doubt but I found it very difficult to give a fuck. Casa Loma is now used as a movie set being most famed for being the school for gifted mutants in the X Men movies. I saw no mutants when I was there I’m sad to report although there was one guy with a clubbed foot.
I met this delightful old gentleman in a hotel bar in Toronto. I had just popped in for some much needed libation after a visit to the Bata Shoe Museum only to be treated to some excellent piano playing from a 92 year old man. I was in the bar on my own or so I thought and gave the music very little attention until the bar man wandered off with a glass of orange juice and as my gaze followed him I noticed two things. The first thing I noticed was the piano and the second thing I noticed was the aged gentleman’s hands splayed across the keys. I gave him my full attention for the duration of his set and when he finished he joined me at the bar. He was originally from Switzerland and had moved to Canada in the early fifties. He had lived alone all his life and loved playing the piano. He was currently domiciled in a retirement home round the corner and liked to come out of an evening and play the piano. The bar we were in was one of only two bars in Toronto that had a piano and would let him play. He was a fascinating old man who in his own words had spent far too long alone but hadn’t yet given up the search for a wife.
From Toronto we headed to Niagara Falls via Niagara On The Lake and the Whirlpool on the advice of an Irish bus driver we had met. He wasn’t wrong it was a lovely drive and beat the hell out of driving on the expressway. The Falls are amazing but the town not so much. On leaving Niagara Falls heading for Montreal we put our trust in Brigit but the sleek electronic omnipotent bitch has no comprehension of visas. As I sailed the Dodge onto the bridge we could see the American Flag fluttering at the far end. We knew we were in trouble, Brigit knew all about borders we could see on her screen that the USA was on the far end of the bridge but could we fuck turn the car around and go back the way we came. The US border patrol man who stopped us made us feel as welcome as a bad bout of botulism. He cared not for our excuses nor our accusatorial pointing towards Brigit. He told us to park the car and enter the immigration building and wait to be processed which we did. As we entered the building a big sign detailing the border patrol mission statement stated that everybody would be treated with dignity and respect. It quickly became apparent that the border patrol men working here had never read this mission statement. I never met such a spectacular shower of cunts in my life and I have met some cunts. Fat shaven headed power tripping donut eating fuck pigs the lot of them. I have no time for the American establishment and these festering fucktards only served to bolster that opinion. It was over three hours before we were allowed to turn around and go back to Canada. The Canadians on the other hand were only delighted to see us and it took less than five minutes to explain our situation and get moving again.
We eventually arrived in Montreal many hours later, moored the Dodge and fell asleep. On waking and wandering through the early morning city streets the hassle of the previous day seemed a distant memory. Montreal is a wonderful place with an eclectic mix of old and new, of French and Canadian a veritable Hodge-Podge of styles and cultures. Where everyone greets you in French and when met with my blank thousand yard stare quickly switch to English. Where the locals converse in both languages constantly and with such ease, often asking questions in French and answering questions in English. It’s a great city for just sitting back in a café or restaurant and listening and watching. There is a vivid sense of self in Montreal it has a feeling of being entirely self actualised. It knows what it is and the people who live there are obviously very proud of their bilingual heritage but not in the least bit force full with it. If you can speak French they’ll speak French if you can’t then English is just fine too.
On reflection we should have spent longer in Montreal and less time in Toronto and if we ever go back which is very possible I think we’ll skip Toronto altogether and head straight to Montreal. The Canadian people we met were accommodating, friendly, quick witted and open and seemed genuinely thrilled that someone had taken the trouble to holiday in their fine country. But hey why wouldn’t we sure it’s just like America but without the Americans!
Toronto is a great city, a big city, and much like any other big city there is plenty to see and do. We went to see Casa Loma which was built by the infamous Canadian architect E. J. Lennox, who was the two ends of a bastard by all accounts. He was commissioned by Sir Henry Pellatt who made his fortune from hydro power and wanted a house fit for a king so Lennox built him a castle on the proviso that Lennox could build a house out of whatever materials were left. Lennox being the cute hoor that he was put himself in charge of purchasing the materials and low and behold he had enough left over to build a wee mansion for himself. In the end Pellatt lost all his money, and his big house, and ended up living in squalor in a basement flat with his driver. A sad story no doubt but I found it very difficult to give a fuck. Casa Loma is now used as a movie set being most famed for being the school for gifted mutants in the X Men movies. I saw no mutants when I was there I’m sad to report although there was one guy with a clubbed foot.
I met this delightful old gentleman in a hotel bar in Toronto. I had just popped in for some much needed libation after a visit to the Bata Shoe Museum only to be treated to some excellent piano playing from a 92 year old man. I was in the bar on my own or so I thought and gave the music very little attention until the bar man wandered off with a glass of orange juice and as my gaze followed him I noticed two things. The first thing I noticed was the piano and the second thing I noticed was the aged gentleman’s hands splayed across the keys. I gave him my full attention for the duration of his set and when he finished he joined me at the bar. He was originally from Switzerland and had moved to Canada in the early fifties. He had lived alone all his life and loved playing the piano. He was currently domiciled in a retirement home round the corner and liked to come out of an evening and play the piano. The bar we were in was one of only two bars in Toronto that had a piano and would let him play. He was a fascinating old man who in his own words had spent far too long alone but hadn’t yet given up the search for a wife.
From Toronto we headed to Niagara Falls via Niagara On The Lake and the Whirlpool on the advice of an Irish bus driver we had met. He wasn’t wrong it was a lovely drive and beat the hell out of driving on the expressway. The Falls are amazing but the town not so much. On leaving Niagara Falls heading for Montreal we put our trust in Brigit but the sleek electronic omnipotent bitch has no comprehension of visas. As I sailed the Dodge onto the bridge we could see the American Flag fluttering at the far end. We knew we were in trouble, Brigit knew all about borders we could see on her screen that the USA was on the far end of the bridge but could we fuck turn the car around and go back the way we came. The US border patrol man who stopped us made us feel as welcome as a bad bout of botulism. He cared not for our excuses nor our accusatorial pointing towards Brigit. He told us to park the car and enter the immigration building and wait to be processed which we did. As we entered the building a big sign detailing the border patrol mission statement stated that everybody would be treated with dignity and respect. It quickly became apparent that the border patrol men working here had never read this mission statement. I never met such a spectacular shower of cunts in my life and I have met some cunts. Fat shaven headed power tripping donut eating fuck pigs the lot of them. I have no time for the American establishment and these festering fucktards only served to bolster that opinion. It was over three hours before we were allowed to turn around and go back to Canada. The Canadians on the other hand were only delighted to see us and it took less than five minutes to explain our situation and get moving again.
We eventually arrived in Montreal many hours later, moored the Dodge and fell asleep. On waking and wandering through the early morning city streets the hassle of the previous day seemed a distant memory. Montreal is a wonderful place with an eclectic mix of old and new, of French and Canadian a veritable Hodge-Podge of styles and cultures. Where everyone greets you in French and when met with my blank thousand yard stare quickly switch to English. Where the locals converse in both languages constantly and with such ease, often asking questions in French and answering questions in English. It’s a great city for just sitting back in a café or restaurant and listening and watching. There is a vivid sense of self in Montreal it has a feeling of being entirely self actualised. It knows what it is and the people who live there are obviously very proud of their bilingual heritage but not in the least bit force full with it. If you can speak French they’ll speak French if you can’t then English is just fine too.
On reflection we should have spent longer in Montreal and less time in Toronto and if we ever go back which is very possible I think we’ll skip Toronto altogether and head straight to Montreal. The Canadian people we met were accommodating, friendly, quick witted and open and seemed genuinely thrilled that someone had taken the trouble to holiday in their fine country. But hey why wouldn’t we sure it’s just like America but without the Americans!
Thursday, August 2, 2007
You Can Love Your Mom, Just Don't LOVE Your Mom...
AN OHIO teen was severely traumatized after discovering the stars of a downloaded porno flick were none other than his own parents.
Timmy Shannon, 17, recalls the moment that scarred him for life. "I was like five minutes into this porno called Horny House Wives 4, when I thought to myself, 'Hey, that couch looks exactly like the one I'm sitting on. Oh crap, it is!' I remember the horror overcoming me when I realized the woman bent over that couch was my mother, and the guy giving it to her was my father. I instantly pulled my pants back up and vomited."
Christ on a bike can you imagine that. There you are happily tugging away walloping the head of your micky off the top of your knee when all of a sudden the flange you've been staring at is none other than your mothers ould winyagog. Jaysus can you imagine sitting there staring at your mothers glory hole, limp cock in hand, thinking "wow I crawled out of that...."
CHRIST ON A BIKE ....
Timmy Shannon, 17, recalls the moment that scarred him for life. "I was like five minutes into this porno called Horny House Wives 4, when I thought to myself, 'Hey, that couch looks exactly like the one I'm sitting on. Oh crap, it is!' I remember the horror overcoming me when I realized the woman bent over that couch was my mother, and the guy giving it to her was my father. I instantly pulled my pants back up and vomited."
Christ on a bike can you imagine that. There you are happily tugging away walloping the head of your micky off the top of your knee when all of a sudden the flange you've been staring at is none other than your mothers ould winyagog. Jaysus can you imagine sitting there staring at your mothers glory hole, limp cock in hand, thinking "wow I crawled out of that...."
CHRIST ON A BIKE ....
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Waking Life
I watched Richard Linklater’s Waking Life the other night and what a seminal head fuck that proved to be. I was never really quiet sure if I was being drawn into the animated philosophical ramblings because of the unsteady rotoscope animation or because of the steady stream of consciousness and existential lyrical waxings of the characters or if indeed I was just slowly but surely dying of boredom. On the one hand it was a pretentious slap on the back to all involved, well done, come on us, sure we is well educated we is. One cunt trying to out cunt some other cunt. On the other hand it was like someone setting off fizz bombs in your cranium, there's only one instant, and it's right now, and its eternity.
The ongoing WOW is happening right NOW. The trick is to combine your waking rational abilities with the infinite possibilities of your dreams. Because, if you can do that, you can do anything. Life is a matter of a miracle that is collected over time by moments flabbergasted to be in each others presence. The worst mistake that you can make is to think you're alive when really you're asleep in life's waiting room. They say that dreams are only real as long as they last. Couldn't you say the same thing about life? The idea is to remain in a state of constant departure while always arriving.
Like the guy in movie said, I'm not saying that they don't know what their talking about, but I sure as fuck didn’t know what they were talking about.
Then again I was rather stoned at the time.
In fact, writer/director Linklater himself was quoted as saying these words before the film's premiere at Sundance: "How many of you out there are on drugs?" When a number of hands went up, he added, "Good. This is for you. The rest of you, just bear with me."
So like I said I'm not sure if I really enjoyed it or hated it immensely I think I’ll have to give it another spin and see where it takes me. It could be a subversive tool to twist my mind. At least I hope so. Although watching it twice can often prove dangerous, here is an image of what happens when you watch the movie in the wrong frame of mind ….
The ongoing WOW is happening right NOW. The trick is to combine your waking rational abilities with the infinite possibilities of your dreams. Because, if you can do that, you can do anything. Life is a matter of a miracle that is collected over time by moments flabbergasted to be in each others presence. The worst mistake that you can make is to think you're alive when really you're asleep in life's waiting room. They say that dreams are only real as long as they last. Couldn't you say the same thing about life? The idea is to remain in a state of constant departure while always arriving.
Like the guy in movie said, I'm not saying that they don't know what their talking about, but I sure as fuck didn’t know what they were talking about.
Then again I was rather stoned at the time.
In fact, writer/director Linklater himself was quoted as saying these words before the film's premiere at Sundance: "How many of you out there are on drugs?" When a number of hands went up, he added, "Good. This is for you. The rest of you, just bear with me."
So like I said I'm not sure if I really enjoyed it or hated it immensely I think I’ll have to give it another spin and see where it takes me. It could be a subversive tool to twist my mind. At least I hope so. Although watching it twice can often prove dangerous, here is an image of what happens when you watch the movie in the wrong frame of mind ….
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