Nic Cage Clip of the week#2(Kinda Late But I Do What I Want)

Instead of clips from movies, we're going to focus on something far more important. Japanese Commercials. I'm sure some of you have seen these. I'm sure some of you haven't. None of these need any explanation.

#1

#2

#3

#4

#5 And of course. The best one for last.

I don't need to say anything about this.

Either/Or: #1

The subject of todays post, and indeed the man who sparked the entire idea for Either/Or is Ulrich Haarbürste; a man who appears to be someones alter ego, but I'm having a hard time figuring out to whom he's sprung from.  Apparently, he's fooled some newspapers and zines into believing that he's a real person, but I refuse to believe anyone, even a lousy kraut would have a last name that would translate roughly to hairbrush.

None the less, Haarbürste's simple website knocks you for a loop within the first two  sentences of content;

Hello and welcome to my homepage. My name is Ulrich Haarbürste, and I like to write stories about Roy Orbison being wrapped in cling-film.

His stories are dream-like encounters between Haarbürste, his pet terrapin named Jetta, and Roy Orbison and an inordinate amount of cling-wrap that, through a set of means ranging from moderately irrational to ragingly psychotic, finds itself applied en mass to Orbison's body.

Every character Haarbürste writes about reminds me of Mike Myers' Sprockets persona, Dieter, only they are exceptionally emotionless and rational.

The long and short is that you can only truly get a handle on this phenomena by reading a couple of the stories. Of course, I'd recommend all of them, but it's really not necessary.

• Roy gets duped
• Save Roy's Life
• A Life and Death Affair
• A Fool's Blinded Eye
• Avante Gard

So I'm forced to leave it up to you.  Is the man behind Ulrich Haarbürste a genius, or batshit insane?

Either/Or: An Explaination

Unlike my cohort, Clownbaby, I will not start a 'weekly feature' that I have no plans to continue. Because when you promise a new Nicolas Cage clip every week, some people like me start to salivate, and it's just not nice to make them wait. And boy am I waiting...

That's why I'm not going to call this a weekly feature.  I'm just gonna go ahead and say that any time I find a prime example, I will post it under the Either/Or subject.

When you get down to the meat and potatoes, using either/or statements is a way to trap someone falsly into a strict set of options; either it sucks or it's awesome, she's hot or ugly, he's a bro or he's lame, obviously there's a continuum of emotions that fall between those designations, but you haven't been given the chance to develop those distinctions, because, well, either you'd bang her or you wouldn't.

So with my Either/Or, I'd like to take a hotly contested  determination, one that has been outlined in just under a thousand complex pages which to this day remains a controversially stratified topic, and I'd like to break it down into two breathtakingly simple choices: crazy or genius?

It's not new or dificult concept; that highly intelligent and creative people tend to stand on a precipice overlooking a canyon of intense insanity or other emotional anguish. Off the top of my head, I come up with Kurt Cobain, Brian Wilson, Syd Barret, and the guy who invented that awesome flying car from the Discovery Channel

Fucking Awesome...

I won't outwardly make a determination as to how I feel each topic scores on the crazy/not crazy scale, but I'm sure you'll be able to figure out exactly what camp I've parked my flag in after reading each entry.

Sexual Dependency

this was kind of my day. It snowed. I listened to a lot of shitty music. I looked at a lot of Nan Goldin photos.

I WILL NOT BE OUT BLOGGED!

I have found what the rest of my life will revolve around from here on out.

I need to be the operator of this machine.  I see it going something like this: I apply for an entry level position at this company, perhaps sweeping up the remains of pianos or some such nonsense, and get myself into the good graces of the owner, and then when I'm thoroughly ingratiated there, I will tell the boss that I wouldn't mind locking up, you know? I'd grin a friendly grin and say something like, "hey Tom, I bet your kids miss you, why don't you surprise them and the Misses by going home early, and taking them out to The Sizzler?"

...at which point Tom would chuckle and toss a ring of keys to me and say something like, "You sure you can handle it? Just make sure you shut out the lights and turn off the shredder."

We'd both laugh and Tom would leave for a wonderful evening with his wife and kids, and that's when the hyjinx would begin.  I'd start by stalking all the people who made fun of me in high school.  I'd rig up a pulley system so I could slowly and painstakingly lower them into the shredder, followed immediately by the bill collectors who seem to always want to call me while I'm masturbating, it'd be somewhere around that point that I'd lose all interest in poetic vindication, and just start abducting random people off the street and tossing them in.  Then  I'd unceremoniously lower myself into the vat, much like the end of Terminator, and say goodbye to the cruel world that was so torturous to me.

I'd probably leave a note for Tom, telling him he was the only who ever put faith in me and that I'll see him in Hell.

No. Wire. Hangers.

I watched Mommie Dearest for the first time as an adult yesterday. Last time I watched it I was 6 or 7 years old and the only scene burned into my memory is the wire hanger scene. It used to give me nightmares because Faye Dunnaway looked like a fucking monster. Well the scene is just as scary now as it was then. Fuck. This scene is fucked up. They totally stole the Joker's look from this scene. On top of this, what they don't show you is that her brother gets out bed at the end of the scene and he's been strapped to the bed the whole time. And if i cut this clip i would've ended on the girl looking around and simply going "Jesus...Christ". Joan Crawford was a nut. Straight up silly. The clip is over nine minutes long. Watch it all. Every single second. Even tho the guy who cut this clip made it in slow motion it's still fucked.


Here we have her beating the shit out of here daughter. 2:32 MARK.


Here we have her asking her child for an ax at 3 in the morning so she can begin screaming and chopping down her rose tree.


And here is a music video of clips of the movie set to "I'm a bitch" Enjoi.