In the Year 2222
Why Don’t Greg and Russ Like Doctor Who?
Bowling is Up Storey’s Alley
Kevin Smith and the Last 20 Years
Naming Conventions and the Destiny of Unusal Names
Russ Defends the Unabomber and/or Malthus
The Case for the Maintenance Society
Remembering how Ronald Reagan forgot, Russ takes performance-enhancing drugs… for life, Russ embraces Hemingway and runs with the bulls, Box and won, Russ is as cold as ice – he wants you to sacrifice, Rutgers: home of unending disaster, Freely choosing to limit all future choices, Flowers for Gooberman, Gooberman’s Choice, Wilson’s Choice, Don’t Fear the Reaper?, Spoilers!, the further perfection of the King of the Star-Murderers, and baby boxing.
As you may have guessed from the silence around these parts – the emu-themed blog action has wound down to an end. I want to thank everyone who has followed the journey of this video-centric blog since its inception in January of 2009. The podcast won’t be affected by this change – it will still sling your usual doses of radio improvisational discussion-ness every now and again.
For those interested in video-related postings – you can follow me on Twitter, or check out my video favorites on Frequency.
Saving that, I give you Meppers the last video – as I toss this blog off the proverbial cliff. Enjoy, be well, and keep mepping.
By which, I mean, remember yourself. By which, I mean, remember that your sense of individuality is merely an illusion. You are a manifestation of everything, that is. Or, as a famous fictional Martian once said, “Thou Art God.”
Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Zizzek argues here that acts of charity within corrupted capitalist societies do nothing but perpetuate harmful economic systems. Only the allowance of unabashed cruelty can accelerate the demise of such systems.
I don’t know how I missed it in its original go-round, and am a little bit irritated at my digital arts media fare for not calling attention to it sooner, but Synecdoche, New York, may be the finest film I’ve ever seen. This piece is almost completely indescribable. It is an Escher-ian meta story that swallows its own tail. The glut of surrealism contained within can cause temporary psychosis, though – so fair warning. Anyway, have a monologue:
Ever think to yourself, boy, I really hated the execution of Gaspar Noe’s Enter the Void, but loved the concept. Could you maybe find a Native American version based on an ancient Sanskrit epic without the gratuitous sex and violence? Yes, says the internets, I believe we have that.