Finally, a movie that accurately represents an entire species.

I had an idea for a short story yesterday, but as I worked it out in my head, I realized it wouldn't be anything more than a romantic comedy. Heavens! We don't need more of those! So I decided to do what everyone in Hollywood does when they are entirely out of good ideas: Make it about Penguins!
Here's the voice-over from the trailer:

She's a girl, who's making her way in the Big City.
He's a down-home boy from the South Pole.
Her writing career has finally taken off.
He's finally met her.
The only problem is...

"See, I can't write unless my heart is broken."
"So that's why you're always waddling around dejectedly!"
"It's not emotional - it's just my work."
"Damn girl! You need to find a line between work and play!" (Hearty laughter)

She's addicted to having her heart broken.
He's addicted to her.

"I've never seen flippers move that way before."

Will this salt water lover risk her job for the one guy who could make her happy for the rest of her life?

"I mean, he's no Emperor Penguin." (Hearty Laughter) "But there's something in his plumage."

Or will she trick him into breaking her heart for the sake of a story...just like all the other guys?

The critics are saying
"Finally, a movie about real penguins."
"A hilarious, toboggoning romp!"

The only mature comedy with full-frontal penguin nudity, and all the laughs that will get you Puffin!
This summer, see the movie that dares to ask the ultimate question - What Will a Penguin Do For Love?

This summer, don't miss out on the writer's block:

The Pen is Mightier Than the Guin






Sooooo...what do you guys think? Besides, of course how retarded the critics who previewed the movie are. A tobogonning romp? What were they thinking?

But I think it's a winner, and I'm pitching it to Aaron Harburg in the morning.

Be Inspired by Life's Tender Succulence

I've always hated the adorable posters people have hanging up, shamefully, in weird parts of their house, that are titled "Life's Little Instructions" or "Lessons I've Learned" or "Things I Know Now Because I'm So Damn Old but You're Still a Teenager, So Listen Up, Screwhead." These, sadly, usually permeate society and become cutesy adages, and, consequently, infallible wisdom.
So, to be proactive about my loathing, I decided to make my own.

Life's Little Instructions

Go into the priesthood. Wear socks. Become a man. Don't be overly frightened of bats. Stop to creepily stare at the roses. Wash your dishes immediately after use, otherwise they get crusty and a lot harder to wash. Don't hold it in - just go to the bathroom, and always take into consideration the germs you're encountering by giving them names. Wink at old men, then call them creepy behind their backs. If you don't have a coping mechanism, make one up! The internet is all around us, so be careful where you fart. Remember the ducks, for when you get older, they will haunt you in the night. Dance like no one knows you're a quadriplegic. Wash behind your ears out of duty, never out of desire. Children are inherently creepy, and that's why they always put them in horror movies.

But above all else - wear clothes that are memorable, otherwise you might forget and think you're naked.

Jack and Coke, and feeling Bloggy!

I've started viewing my life in haikus. Haikus in the good way - not in the way that annoying, prescriptivist weirdos who find enjoyment in useless restriction like them. (Given that description, I'm not sure anyone fits that build.) (Hooray for talking in parentheses!) ((Double parentheses denote a secret))

So yeah, haikus. Viewing my life in captured moments. They generally turn out to be paragraphical moments, instead of silly 5-7-5 lines that don't make sense in any particular way.

I realized that most rap songs nowsadays are haikus. Take, for example, "Get Low" by Flo-rida. The song, or at least the chorus ,which is all that my ineptitude is able to decipher, deals entirely with him seeing a girl in a club, and what that's like. He sees a girl, apple-bottom jeans, furry boats, and she's smacking her butt. He describes what he's wearing, and that's about it. Lame? I think not. He's describing a poignant moment in his life. It's easy to doubt the sincerity (since we generally connect sincerity with morality) in the song (though maybe he REALLY likes furry boots!),...but the point is the capturing of the moment, got it?

When I look back at my life, I generally see it in Polaroid snapshots, and moments that I treasure in my life. I work in moments. Anything longer than that indefinable space of time I can't handle for meaning. Ten minutes in time holds no meaning. All I can seem to capture is the beauty in that moment, and what the insertion of myself into that moment creates.

At this point, I would normally make a silly Top 10 list of my favorite moments, which would be an entirely farcical, and a potentially clever exploration....but I don't feel like it. Moments are too sacred, and I wouldn't dream of sharing the ones that actually mattered to me on the internet - The Whore of Information. Moments are sacred pieces of fleshy-life, encapsulated in a block of ice, that we're trying to find a freezer big enough to keep it in. Once the ice melts off, all you have left is quickly perishable flesh that holds no beauty.

Metaphors aside, I'm tired and going to bed. Tell me your thoughts on the matter, haikus, and how nice my butt is. I think your's is pretty awesome.