Inglourious Basterds

Situation Normal: All Things Reek THC
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Inglourious Basterds is not a World War II movie made by Quentin Tarantino, it rather is a Quentin Tarantino movie taking place in a World War II era that has all the comic book charms in the galaxy to it. Quentin has a masterful understanding of comic book character handling and related dialog development, but, to be honest, he usually has little more than that to offer which is the most fruitful trait of this delivery, yet ends up as its necessary constraint as well, since Quentin satisfies with delivering Ultimate Badassness, failing to notice the moment by which he already told everything worth to be told about it.

Other than that, the movie really has no actual shortcomings. It is crystal-solid, crystal-clear comic book cinema that Quentin made for himself to entertain himself, primarily. I find nothing wrong with that. A beautiful cinematic accomplishment with a narrative language which, as hinted, gives you all worth to be given on the semi-superhero comic book register, almost inviting you, mocking you to realize that there is one and only ONE character in the entire film and that is: The Badass.

Not just a random Badass. The Ultimate Badass. In Quentin Tarantino's mind, dialog has no other narrative channel to flow through than fluffing a character's ego twice as big as her/his verbal challenger succeeded doing that one sentence earlier. Everyone has a set of carefully researched, total brutal oneliners begging to be delivered, in fact, one has the impression that Quentin makes his movies in order to be able to deliver his most recent-, total brutal oneliners.

But, at the end of the day, - and during all that, mind you - you see the exact same character in every one of them, in case you were wondering, it is: The Badass. Tarantino's Badass archetype puts on precisely drawn cartoon masks you call mannerisms, expressing their harshly limited, though entertaining dimensions from the exact same-, yet sadly separate THC private-Universe as the others inhabit. Connections in these separate private Universes are happening through carefully staged acts of fragile causality. In other words: if you are Tarantino and you are about to deliver a five minute "dialogmonologue", first you showcase how Badass your character is - because this is the only character you have a concept of, remember? - then, when you managed to draw your Badass character, you will be busy returning to the plot by finally putting two sentences into her/his mouth that has relevance to the plot.

These weed-driven self-declarations of individual awesomeness are of focal importance in this movie, which, ultimately, is a firm Tarantino delivery with elegant plot twists and purified WW2 novelty vibes to it. The movie has no particular, rigorous seriousness, yet, fortunately recognizes that it does not even have any need for those to be a film worth scrutinizing.

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WTF?!

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Deluded Beggars of Delicate Invitations

There are superfools on the Internet, forming actual begging walls of worthless desires, with each individual whining for an invite for a specific site. I find this level of stupidity highly amusing. I found this at occult.biz for example. By the moment I checked, it was an invite only site. What is the next thing you do? Surely, you Google "occult.biz invite" with the hope that you will find information of what other people confronted with in your situation. And you will reach brief blog posts with dozens and dozens of random people and random gurus moaning in the comments about their respective pressing need of getting an invite to occult.biz as soon as possible, because they have utterly relevant information to share with the community of that prestigious site.

Naaaaah, they do not want to DOWNLOAD anything, noooo, they want to GIVE. Even better, some of these beggars are generous enough to project the promises of serious earthy blessings for you if you will send an invite for them. Imagine the powers of the Mega Guru of Unlimited and Highly Illegal Effectiveness who reigns in the position of being able to bless you thoroughly, but lacks the power to manifest a bloody occult.biz invite for herself/himself. What magnificent superfools. Superidiots, no doubt.

Now my question for you is this: How do you identify an individual not worth to be invited to a prestigious site at all?

Easy:

That is the individual who whines publicly for an invite, thinking that her/his pressing needs have relevance for anyone else other than her/him. No, it has NOT, I assure you. As of the time of your devoted whining of subzero dignity and even less common sense, you are obviously not a member's friend, you are not a God and you certainly are not Louise Brooks. So why would anyone care? Nobody cares about your whining, sissy. Nobody. And this is the reason you whine, I'm afraid.

Whining will never get you such a precious commodity, because whining is for free, which is just fine, juuuust fine. Whining should be IT. I mean whining IS what should be free. When everyday average normal- and everyday average insane reality assumes that you have SOMETHING to do at that site, you WILL have your ACCESS to it. Now you fulfill an entire different function and this is: being a laugh and being a sear of it. Lady, Sir, I feel sorry for you. By the way, can someone please send me an invite to occult.biz?????????? Me has valubl infromration to tellyu, yse!!!! Almsot frogot, sned ti to zoltangyalog@gmail.com!!!!!!!!!!

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WTF?!

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UFC 107 BJ Penn VS Diego Sanchez review

now with gif animations

- BJ Penn VS Diego Sanchez

- Frank Mir VS Cheick Kongo

Though many may consider men who enter an mma proving ground little more than hired human pitbulls ripping each other apart for massive money and radical amusement, I tend to reject this view via a yawn of black hole, concluding that professional level mma is the combat of highly disciplined human spirits, opposing each other for but the duration of the bout, probably ending up as unified in the process as we could conceive, simply through their magnificent shared experience of being in a cage where the damage one suffers is the wit one failed to exhibit. That is how, in my opinion, the mma fighter fights against herself/himself. The reaction of one's opponent is the reaction to whatever one could offer as offense.

Notice that the ultimately glorious moments of mixed martial arts are not of those of KOs and submissions. They are of those of hugging the formal rival at the end of the bout, circulating the most honest, pure respect spirit and related (?) intelligence may come upon, the limitless respect each fighter deserves simply by making an attempt of expressing themselves thoroughly, honestly on the proving grounds. The biggest respect one could give is the assumption that one needs every skills- and wits to neutralize the rival. A fight is nothing less than the expression of these skill sets, put though to the test utterly and completely, instead of infinitely theorizing about them. The most glorious moment of the bout emerges in the form of the ensuing peace between the fighters, a legit, palpable sensation, unifying the former enemies and the grateful audience once the collision reached its conclusion.

This is a review of the latest UFC event to date, UFC 107 - BJ Penn VS Diego Sanchez.

Introductory thoughts about the more significant lineups

UFC 107 marks the return of the Little Buddha BJ Penn, who once again emerges to render a title defense, this time against Diego "Yes Man" Sanchez, of who I would dare not resonate two lousy attempts at a joke in the same sentence. So, we shall be content with this solo one of those. BJ Penn, as Dana White states, finally fights for the one and only reason worth fighting for: to establish a Legacy. Not an easy task to do with The Nightmare on your t(r)ail, as this is the nickname Sanchez brings to the table, let alone his truly exceptional mindset which resonates a supersolid conviction - redundancy? - of a personal destiny - AGAIN?! - that naturally and necessarily concerns true greatness as an mma fighter. What better way is there to evidentiate the legitimacy of this stance than to confront The Little Buddha? BJ Penn states that he is ready for a war and that he will meet Diego at the center of the Octagon. Sanchez is indeed notorious of dictating super-furious pace, even states that the more energy he uses up, the more energy he gets. Let's just hope that the spontaneous singularity that the two are likely to create will leave nearby satellites intact, so we will have the chance to witness this spectacle as it unfolds.


Frank Mir comes back with an agenda, and this agenda is to bestow a scar IN, and not ON Brock Lesnar, in order to damage his spirit. He wants to hand Brock the hurt real bad so-, even soooo bad, that this freshly cultivated drive invites Mir to clearly admit that he never felt a similar urge to devastate a particular rival before. I am a huge fan of both current UFC Heavyweight Champion Brock Lesnar and Frank Mir, yet, according to my impressions, it is Lesnar who scarred Frank's spirit by pummeling him through 32423849723984 random cosmoses and then some, so now Mir seeks unification of suffering via handing back the pain Brock unleashed on him as result of his ruthless command.

Unfortunately, as of the moment of this here review, Brock is ill and millions of fans channel positive energies with hopes of him getting better and return to the proving ground as soon as safe and possible. Either way, a more motivated than ever Frank Mir eyes the possibility to confront Lesnar once more, and I'm telling you that this Mir indeed has a sinister quality in him which is a truly precious spectacle to greet in the world of mixed martial arts. All my respect goes for the makers of the Countdown to UFC 107 show, as they rendered exquisitely nice tints of Mir's demonic aspect. Check out this GIF animation of it.

< - Frank Mir offering a glimpse on The Animal. But. The match we are about to see tonight does not concern a third collision between Brock and Frank, no. Today Mir steps up against the French Colossus with the masterfully crafted, not particularly casual Demigod proportions. Cheick Kongo comes to prove himself after his loss against considerable prospect Cain Velasquez, and he is fired up frighteningly, as his fire is calm with a promise of turning into a carnage once the doors of the cage are sealed. Cheick is utterly unimpressed by Mir's words on the Countdown show, and, thanks to the French giant of superhumanic comic book anatomy, we had the memorable chance of seeing the most unorthodox press conference-staredown so far, as Kongo refused to give the eye for Mir, he turned his back on him instead. Let us see if this is the strategy The Colossus is about to follow during the match, as well. As for Frank Mir's intentions, he promises utter and complete destruction, which he should indeed deliver if to claim the right to face the reigning Champion Brock "The Beast" Lesnar a third time. And, the funny bit Mir finds in his intentions, is this: he will bestow this scar on Kongo only to make Brock afraid. Wow, and a doublewow. WOwow. Let's just say that these are two epitomes of ambition right away. There is yet another nice delicacy to unravel tonight, as Kenny "KenFlo" Florian - who really should change his nick to Sorrowful Samurai, believe you me it would earn him 1 000 000 additional fans right away - steps up against totally and completely legit wildman Clay Guida. Paul Buentello VS Stephan Struve In the first period of this Veteran VS Young Blood collision, benevolent cloud beholder Stephan Struve dictates solid ground control on his opponent, having though pronounced difficulties at improving his positions in a way to present evident danger to the Headhunter. The Octagon-concerns of Struve are magnified in the second round, in which a standup oriented fightflow reveals considerable resistance-potential possessed and expressed by his Veteran opponent. The match has its highly memorable peak moments in this round, as Buentello manages to put a stop against the Incoming Skyscrapers Struve manifests himself as in the Octagon. A well defined counter-righthand connects on the young Dutch who is fond of throwing flying knees around, paying a steep price for one of these attempts though, check the GIF animation.



A furious exchange of particular passion is of further note herein. Pure, elegant fighting spirit is mutually cultivated, summoned and delivered by these sound warriors via this central, core sequence of the match. The third and final round holds no particular beauty or efficiency for us in store, though Struve throws some leg kicks of the highly secretive and illegal "Askificare" fighting style. A decision victory goes for the Dutch prospect. A decent match with a bunch of good vibes and neat moments, and the fact that the fighters become massively exhausted for the final round, is a result of their mutual, continuous intent of bringing the fight to a radical conclusion without the need to ask the Judges. Struve is humble in victory, expresses that he feels as if the match could have been scored as a draw instead.

Kenny Florian VS Clay Guida

In my opinion, Sorrowful Samurai Kenny Florian does an elegant and effective job at shaping reality exactly as he promised he would: he uses Guida's aggression and directs it against Clay himself. It is not long into the first round when Florian manages to cut Guida's head with one of his notorious elbows, - meaning Florian's, of course - and, in the second round, it is a Guida with a seemingly decreased amount of efficiency who answers the bell.

Florian demonstrates rock solid maturity and a highly tactical gameplay, denying all control of the match from his opponent of notorious fervency. Then, when Clay is about to explode in order to state a highlight reel action of UFC History, he simply: succeeds at that masterfully and here is the GIF animation of it. You see - result is everything, though result forms where you stop at. Kenny Florian clearly outclasses Guida in this collision and administers the Rear Naked Choke, since, does not matter how devotedly you look, you are not likely to find a nanosecond during this match in which Guida exhibits control of the action.





- Hey Clay, where should I send your soul to?
- Nah, keep it for a while!

Frank Mir VS Cheick Kongo

Frank Mir makes the statement he has promised to make and you do not need to wait for more than a minute and some seconds to greet every nuances of this statement as a permanent retina stigma. Connecting with a huge left coming out of nowhere, Mir sends Kongo to the ground and chokes him unconscious through the follow up sequence, greeting the Colossus with nothing but delicate mercilessness administered on professional level. At the end up the bout Congo fortunately recovers, and, according to the commentators, the two do embrace, which is nice to know, but, in my opinion, not showing it was the kind of mistake you do not commit three of in a sober world - not to mention in a mad one. Mir crushes Kongo via quick, efficient, elegant violence, then respectfully expresses his primal motivational force and desire to face Brock Lesnar for a third time.















BJ Penn VS Diego sanchez

The Little Buddha dominates via sheer control and stone cold sobriety, having but fun and having lot of it while in the Octagon with the Nightmare, whom the Defendant negates without risks in all areas of the game.


Diego is unable to offer relevant resistance during this collision, one which invites its participants to deep water, thus the Challenger is forced to take the position of intensely Hunted as opposed to render himself as the Hunter, which is of minimal requirement if to deprive a Champion of the title.

Sanchez finds little if any success at connecting on Penn, while he is getting more and more battered as the fight progresses on. Diego's assets of relevance are constrained to his surviving abilities and his trademark left legkick of radical stopping power, supported by a relentless urge to take BJ to the ground. Penn though blocks pretty much all these kicks and remains consistent aggressor, seemingly consuming a relevant part of Diego's conviction of being able to turn the flow of this match.

In the final round, BJ turns the heat on, opening a huge gash on Diego's forehead via colliding the surface in question with that of The Little Buddha's shinbone. The results of this are highly effective, let alone the relentless onslaught Penn follows up to seal his verdict with. Referee Herb Dean steps in in order to ask for the Doctor's opinion, whom gives the Stoppage without any hesitation.





Diego Sanchez deserves all respect for being able to remain in this fight for this long, yet, it remains interesting to see who could pose a threat against BJ Penn, as the reigning Champion indeed performed today on a much more subtle vibration level than Diego and the vast majority of other fighters currently have access for.





























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