I Now Officially Hate RedBox

Technological advancements are all fine and dandy.
Compacting and streamlining a Blockbuster video down into the size of an ATM is wonderful.
Eliminating the need for me to talk to video-store clerks named Clint Westwood (this is another story) is another step in the right techno-hermit direction.

Waiting for the fat and the old to figure out: A. What movie they want to see, or B. How to operate Redbox makes me want to throw living human beings into spinning cement mixers filled with glass.

I HATE REDBOX.

A full fifty percent of the US population is not ready for RedBox.

If you go to the local supermarket on a typical Thursday evening because your spouse wants to see a movie, and you see an overweight bleach-blonde mom with sweatpants, two small children and a floral/viney tattoo-thing on her wrist operating the big red telephone-booth, beware: that bitch is gonna be there forever.

You might as well go the the part of the store that has birthday cards and those erasers that fit over the ends of pencils, get a pen and a spiral notepad (college ruled), sketch out a script, write the first and second drafts, get Jerry Bruckheimer on the horn, negotiate with Will Smith's agent, fight to keep his damned kid out of the movie, pay the unions, get one of those cool canvas director's chairs, go on location, avoid Nicolas Cage's phone calls, look scared while Harvey Weinstein yells at you, finally get a release date, go to the premiere with Megan Fox, cringe when your film doesn't make any money, wait for it to be shown on airplanes, get a copy for free from Bruckheimer, take it home and stick the damn thing in the DVD player (Blu-Ray if you are more fancy-pants than me).

These two operations will take the same amount of time.

Why these people are almost always fat, I do not know, I think it has to do with the fact that both things indicate a life of not-giving-a-shit.

I am not even going to mention waiting for old people, which really was the impetus of my whole rant. Yesterday, an old lady snuck in front of my at the 'Box (I was RETURNING a movie, by the way) ran her credit card first, waited, browsed, chose two movies, then turned and asked me, "What's a Blu-Ray?" All within the time of a Galapagos giant tortoise's lifespan.

Would it kill you, Mr. Red Box, to have a separate RETURN slot for those of us who are already so close to the edge?

Death, destruction and mayhem,

FPPInternational

PS. The movie we rented was Colombiana. What a piece of crap. Why does Hollywood Bogota always look like Tijuana?

Mike Tyson's New Career Move.

This is the best thing Iron Mike has done since the very early 1990's.

Click on this:

TYSON = HERMAN CAIN

...And show off the cool handshake me and Jesus have been working on for when he comes back to earf.

...Use Illegal aliens as human batteries, like in the Matrissessessess

Kisses,

FPPInternational

Some Fall Stuff

Oh man, does it get cold, dark and wet quickly here in the great pacific northwest.
Damn diddly am. And although the winter is coming on quick and fiercelike, team Bothell has been able to get out and get a couple things done.

Lotsa animals in here, and a waterfall, and Fpp in a nausea-inducing flight simulator and a big hill and some other silly stuff.

And now, just for something to fill a little more space here, we went kayaking a couple months ago when it was warm, and nice and pleasant, and warm and sunny and warm.

Chris and Roxy, on a visit from North Carolina, race us and easily win the aquatic battle royale.

Kiss kiss

Ciao for now

Hiking Excursion VI, Acoustic Bugaloo

As in years past, this Summer the Bastardos moved West for the funk. The Olympic Peninsula Coast was the destination, wet feet the prescription, sand and ropes the constipation.

The hike was very much different from any other year, as 2011 offered an interesting mix of beach and rain-forest hiking, dolphin spotting, crashing waves drowning out snoring, and salmon and steak dinners.

All in all, another total success with zero fatalities and plenty of foolish douche-baggery. Lessons were learned and age was shown, with the aid of rope-ascent hikes proliferating muddy trails, where joints cried foul.

But, as mentioned, no one died or needed a ride to a hospital, so the venture only made us stronger.

Kisses from the indoors, where refrigerators and toaster ovens provide the warm solace of domestic bliss.

In Other Music News

It's been a full week since Joe Arroyo, Colombia's greatest salsa singer, died in a hospital in BQ. The last five or ten years had been kinda rough for old Joe (who wasn't really that old, 55).

That's him with Shakira there, back in 2006

He had drug problems and I think he was diabetic, and seemed really shaky on stage at times. But damn did he have a cool voice. He high-fived me once at a club (La Quinta, which is now closed) and we ate in the same restaurant once, where I made a fool of myself when I recognized him. I have been trying to reckon how many times I saw Joe, at least six, the last time at a small club in BQ with virtually no one in attendance, which is amazing, as he was, until his last breath, a National hero, and Salsa legend.

Adios, Joe, The staff at FPPInternational will be trying to imitate that screechy sound you made for the following week or two.

Here's the video for Joe's tune, Sabre Olvidar, which is awesome for many reasons:
1) It's a cool tune.
2) Parts of it were filmed at Las Flores, where we used to eat fish on weekends
3) Joe's wearing a captain's hat with overalls

4) At 3:45 a girl presents a flopping fish in a box to the camera for consideration

Pussy-Town?

Seattle is an interesting place.

It's up in the corner there of the country, as far away from Miami as possible (that's good).
A pretty far piece from any other major metropolitan area (that's also good).

It has long been a place for people running away from something. It has long been associated with extremes. It has the best summers in the continental US, and the worst winters. Forbes says it is the most miserable sports city in the USA; however it is also the most educated city.

Seattle has always kicked-ass at producing music, good music. Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Alice in Chains, Jimi-freaking-Hendrix, hell, even Heart, Seattle has a pretty great track record in the world of music. But it seems lately something has changed.
Like the SuperSonics, Seattle's Rock-n-Roll-ability has disappeared to Oklahoma or some such desolate shit-hole.

The only local band that's getting any radio-play right now is a group called The Head and The Heart, and their tune "Lost In My Mind." First of all, both are really shitty names, band and song. But maybe, if the tunes are great, it could be like Mott the Hoople or "You Can't Rollerskate in a Buffalo Heard." Trust me, it ain't. This is Hootie and the Blowfish. This is "Here's a Quarter (Call Someone Who Cares)."

The band and song are as good as they sound, downright low-mediocre pussy-music which basically sums up the state of Rock-n-Roll in general at this stage of its existence, but this band couldn't be worse if Kenny G were the bassist. Whatever happened to The Supersuckers or Mudhoney?

Seattle used to celebrate creative acts. Our music is now the equivalent of Superbowl XL. It's a sad state of affairs. At least in sports we're used to getting our asses kicked. We used to be good at bands. Now we are not even Portland or San Diego (anyone remember Stone Temple Pilots). Oh woe is me.

Delayed Reaction

Is it cruel to pick on George W Bush? He seems so sensible now, in light of the Palins and Bachmanns and other teabag looneys who are amazingly, disgustingly controlling our national discourse. For people who can barely read, they are a force to be reckoned with. Shouldn't they just be quietly washing our cars and removing the dog poop from our lawns and not, uhhhh making political speeches and stuff.

anyway, General W this week explained why he had such a delayed reaction when told planes were smashing into buildings all over the eastern seaboard damn near ten years ago. Talk about delayed reactions. And his reason, "I wanted to look calm." George Wiggly Bush wanted to look calm. It took ten years to come up with that? Really? Karl Rove is losing his touch. Ten fucking years to figure out, "Hmmmm. Looking calm sounds Presidential. Might just save my historical ranking." Anyway, it worked. He sure seemed calm.

This reminds me of when GWB acknowledged that the worst moment of his presidency (a presidency slapped about by terrorist attacks, the destruction of the economy, two wars, and massive attacks on civil liberties) was when Kanye said GWB didn't like black people. Really? after overseeing the death of thousands of soldiers, having to meet some of their parents, helping to bilk 9-11 first responders out of their insurance, stuff like that, your worst day is Kanye being mean to you during a Katrina telethon? Man, you're a bigger wimp than your dad.