Vulture. That’s the kind of sexual discrimination I like to see.
Read more about it here.
I feel so powerful!
THE director of a gay zombie porn film that has been banned from screening at the Melbourne International Film Festival says he’s delighted by the controversy.
Australia’s Film Classification Board advised festival director Richard Moore by letter that L.A. Zombie, a film directed by Canadian Bruce LaBruce would be refused classification and could not be screened.
The board asked to see the film after they read a synopsis of the plot, which said it featured wound penetration and implied sex with corpses.
MMMM wound penetration… (???????)
Festival director Richard Moore described the film, which features full-frontal nude scenes, as a “video art zombie film”.
“Bruce LaBruce’s blend of sex and violence can be confronting, but I would argue that within the context of the festival, it is nonsensical and patronising to not allow people to decide what they want to see,” he said.
If anyone would make a gay zombie porn film it WOULD be the man named Bruce LaBruce. The most offensive part of this is that it is called porn. NO ONE WILL ENJOY THIS.
I know there must be more substantive and less objectionable topics to bring before you, but I have a sense that many of you join me in spirit, if not common experience, and so I devote this month’s Outlook to another trivial snippet emphasizing our joint humanity and sense of loss due to the recent disappearance of the hand-flusher.
I don’t know where it is located exactly but I do know there’s an electronic eye in the plumbing of public toilets these days that can sense when you get up and get down (or is it get down and get up?) and are finally finished with your “business” if you get my drift. My doctor says a proctology exam is a necessary evil but cameras in toilets? Never having seen myself from this particular angle, it is particularly embarrassing to turn over the assignment to a camera and say, “Snap away—see anything that doesn’t look right?” I figure if there’s an eye there there could also be a little voice that says, “Have a seat,” which of course I do, usually with much haste and a s sense that I’d better get on with it before I attract a crowd.
It’s after the dirty deed is completed, however, that the real intrigue begins. Does it flush, or doesn’t it? Only the computer chip knows for sure. Sometimes, though, after paperwork has been filed, pants pulled up, and an attempted getaway initiated—nothing happens. No flush. Well, what are you expected to do in these circumstances? You can’t just leave it there, you know. Sometimes when the toilet’s plugged and there’s no plunger like in European bathrooms, you can get out of there quick with conscience intact, but only, of course, if there’s no one else in the restroom who might testify against you in court for being a non-flusher. With electronic eye toilets, however, the conscience is never clear, and so you wave your hand in front of the camera, hoping to convince it by the breaking of light waves that someone really has used the toilet and somehow it just forgot, or maybe the deposit was so miniscule it didn’t merit a flush. Hello in there! Having failed to trick it, however, the next step is to look for that little button in back that you supposedly push in an emergency, sort of like the “break in case of fire!” toilet equivalent. But think of all the billions of germs! At least with an old handle you could kick it with your shoe, hold up your arms like a doctor scrubbing for surgery and make an exit looking like you’re auditioning for a part on E.R. Finally, I supposed you head for the door, listening all the while for the flush, the flush, the beautiful sound of the flush! I could have done it myself, you know, for a lot less hassle. Which is why I support a retreat to the old days (not the backyard outhouse) but a good-old fashioned hand-flusher. One push, and presto, you’re good to go.” —
Bill Gross, the co-founder and chief investment officer of Pimco, in the company’s newsletter
I’m sorry, what are you trying to say, Bill?
Don’t worry Don Draper. I’m coming for you.
If I ever make an online dating profile (nope), I’m just going to describe myself in terms of my Netflix: prefers understated drama and feel-good comedy.
I wonder how accurate that is.
But the dreams HAVE GOT TO GO.
Eminem on Elton John’s advice to him while he was getting sober [via Vulture]
…I don’t think that’s what he meant, Marshall.
You will just have to check my twitter.
I read Wikipedia plot summaries.
I should care more that I’m this lazy, right?