Let’s just get that information out there.
It may or may not be true but if I’m going to have a rumor about me floating around, I want it to be this one.
Why? Because green is my favorite color, that’s why.
For some years, now, I have been showing people the wrong version of The Return of the Living Dead.
You may be asking yourself “How did this happen?”, “Why has god forsaken me?”, or you might simply be crying. You might also be thinking “What the hell are you talking about, idiot?”.
All of those are great questions. I know, I wrote them. The answer is that the audio track from the theatrical release was altered for home video release.
Now, you’re asking yourself “Why am I reading this?”, “Why has god forsaken me?”, or you may simply be crying. Stupid questions, idiots, you should be asking “What’s up with the audio?”.
Great question, Patrick. I’ll refer you to this thread:
This gist, for those who, understandably, fear reading forum assholes’ thoughts on…anything is that some songs are missing, some songs are truncated, and some lines have been dubbed.
The good news is that we have two takes of the line “Send more cops.”. The bad news is that I’ve invited my loved ones into this nightmare of seeing a horribly altered version of the greatest horror/comedy ever made.
Now, you may ask yourself “Who cares?”, “Why does this atheist piece of shit keep mentioning god?”, or “Where does that highway go to?”. (At this point, I’m assuming that all of your tears have been used up.)
While I take no credit for that last batch of questions, my answer to the first one is that preservation of any worthwhile work of art is important. This movie is a Dreyfuss scuplted mound of potatoes. Like A.1. steak sauce, it’s that important. This movie saved my life…maybe.
Anyway, most of my experience with this movie is with home video. The exception being a midnight showing at a theater that came complete with loud teenagers who weren’t even drunk or high or anything cool like that. I killed them.
Anyway, this post is an apology. An apology to everyone who knows me. Because, if you know me, you’ve been made to watch the wrong version of a great film. It’s like I showed you the Star Wars special editions or that Godfather deal where everything is in chronological order.
Anyway, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.
Oh, the UK blu-ray is supposed to have the original soundtrack. No word on whether the time stamps are still present.
#archimedes #hotdog #rhubarb #niner #zero #niner
The 1991 World Series was so long ago that my memories of it are now in black & white and the frame rate is all wrong so it seems like the players are moving faster than people should. I accept that Jack Morris is still alive the same way I barely wrap my around the idea that there’s still two Beatles roaming the planet.
Currently waiting on Indiana Jones to secure evidence of the 1987 World Series.
Have you ever seen Cronenberg’s version of The Fly? Please watch it. It’s slightly less disgusting, visually, than the horrible signs you wave in the faces of sexually abused teenagers.
There is a scene in which Geena Davis, who has been impregnated by a human/fly hybrid has a nightmare involving the birth of their bundle of Brundlejoy. I imagine that anyone with a writhing mass of DNA gestating inside of them has a dream like this at some point. (Although I could be wrong.)
Personally, I saw the scene not just as a reminder that whatever under-the-frock is cooking is going to be ghastly but also that, no matter how fantastic the circumstances, pregnancy seems like it can be a lonely and terrifying place to be.
Of course, this is all side-stepping the issue at hand. That issue being that, regardless of why someone wants to terminate their pregnancy, it’s their choice. Why? Because it’s inside their body, not yours.
If you want to carry a tragic fly abomination to full term, be my guest. I hope you appreciate how I respected your rights as you spawn a murderous tsetse with testes into the public school system, eating all of the desserts.
As for me, I try to understand why someone would choose the path they take. How scary and confusing it must be for the Geenas of real life. I even try to understand you…and I do. You hate women.
Annoying all three of my subscribers with a photo of my cat, Apple, resting on some comic books.
The first and one of the only times a woman gave me her number at a party, I went home drunk, beat Punch-Out! for the very first time, and called her to brag.
We never spoke again.
Just had a brief but interesting conversation and it reminded me of some armchair thoughts I had on cultures within the U.S..
Thanks to people’s unreasonable and unjustified hatred, homosexuals have been forced to band together to assert themselves as people deserving of rights. (They are, of course, but that should never have been an issue in the first place.) They’re not the first group to have to do so and they, unfortunately, won’t be the last.
The very idea of defining homosexuals as a group is frightening, to me. One’s sexual preference should absolutely not define someone as a person. Does my fondness for women with dark hair and fair skin define me? Nope. Fortunately, for me, this isn’t an issue with…with anybody, as far as I know.
Of course, having your biological makeup be the target of the scorn of idiots means having similar experiences as other people in the same boat. It’s sad because, without this lunacy, people would be free to explore themselves as individuals with all other humans being the group and never having to think twice about an inconsequential detail you were born into. Instead, the people whose meaningless genetic details are an issue with the narrow-minded are bound to others who’ve been browbeaten or attacked.
So, hatred created the culture. It’s backfiring on the bigots now because their persecution has led to solidarity amongst the persecuted. That is, undoubtedly, a good thing and something I would hope reveals a more universal commonality for all of us.
What of the culture once things have been set right? Will it continue to exist? In an ideal world, it shouldn’t. In an ideal world, whatever you’re born with will be no more than data. People will be defined by the actual good or bad that they do and not by their complexion, gender, height, weight, or sexual preference.
I won’t live to see this world, and it’s a legitimate regret. It’s also unfortunate that the world treats people differently because of the superficial.