firefly

omg. what an amazing show. no wonder it got cancelled.

BUT it is making a return as a movie. which will kickass. but ultimately will bomb because of its amazingness. success is inversely proportion to amazingness, i'm afraid.

"what do you mean there's no aliens in a sci-fi movie set in space?"

"thats right. deep space is just an excuse for deep character development!

"character what?"

and boy, are joss' commentaries awesome. they are the epitome of "commentary-as-filmschool".

joss mightn't be flawless, but i can see why everyone loves working with him. he's so outwardly focused.

with a nice voice. (but bad taste in clothes. eww. hawaii shirts? xander was so modeled after joss)

perhaps my hyperkinetic, flucuating screetch will work against me. hard to say.

claim any to contribute you excess

and what the fuck is with a legal academic using quantum theory to explain the law? i thought i was the only one stupid enough to do that.

(to paraphrase): positive and normative views of the law can coexist but not be one coherent theory. like how an electron can be a wave and a particle, but not at the same time.

bite me. mr wibren van der burg.

(and yes, i took have fall into that trap. using emergent system theory to explain scalar sociopolitics but at least i had the good sense to point out the inherent psuedoscience of applying physics to sociology. chomsky would be proud -- appropriation of language to product false authority.)

and he looked at me like i was a fucking disease and slammed me against the concrete. the thud was all sinewave subbass. no form. shape. just movement through the whole body. shaking like the muffler on my car. and it was so white. blue. green. running like phantoms thorugh the city of the solid. bits and peaces dancing to the tune of the moon. laughter like a lynch mob, burning all it sees cause it ain't got no choice. cause choice is for the weak. the soft. the succuluent lindor balls of chocolate goodness that make you wonder why there's just not anything else like this. with the taste and the guilt and the fattening. (oh, and the fucking stretch marks) broken scales and dry coughs conspiring against you. agitation driving you in circles. typing bullshit to kill time. could be reading bioethics but that would be sensible. better to eat time with a great big nothing because then it doesn't seem like you've done fuck all and you can pretend its just gotten away like the last one. but there's plenty of fish in the sea of words. just pick them at random for a thousand years and you might just come up with the works of shakespeare... or tom clancy... or danielle steel. law of averages, apparently. but the law of averages doesn't take into account being below average. or above average. it considers the average is being average. 70% of drivers think they're better than average. dumbasses. i can't drive for shit, but at least i can admit it.

and no i'm not on drugs.