Meh Find… Lily Allen’s Womanizer

This one’s not quite so much a Happy Find as Meh Find.  Damn this song for getting stuck in my head in the first place, and damn it again for getting remade into something more tolerable.  It’s like getting a butterknife stuck in my head as opposed to a mace.  (via IDLYITW)

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All I Want For Christmas Is… The Dark Knight Returns (Or Whatever Batman 3 Will Be)

Please…?  Pretty, pretty please?

I can only take so much withholding before I just die.

I’ll be nice to my brother.  I’ll even be nice to my sisters, I guess.

Christopher Nolan, all I want is a promise.  A contract can come later.  All I want for Christmas is to know that there will be a third Batman movie (presumably, “The Dark Knight Returns,” but I hope it’s called something better.)

There’s this guy that calls himself Max Doomsday at an excellent blog called Atomic Gadfly, and he’s got the next movie all figured out:

(These) are the characteristics I’d draw on for my depiction of the Penguin. He’d be a successful professional criminal fronting as a businessman and philanthropist, who’s bought his way into Gotham high society. In a way, he’d be very much like Bruce Wayne – wealthy industrialists moving in the same social circle, and both leading double lives. But each man should recognize that the other is not quite what he seems.

The Penguin could be setting himself up as one of the city’s major benefactors – helping finance the rebuilding of Gotham General Hospital, bringing new jobs to the city, even donating equipment to the police department. But his goal is to create a sense of security for the people of Gotham. After all, they’ve just lived through the attacks on the city by Ra’s al Ghul and the Joker. The Penguin figures that if people feel like things are returning to normal, they’ll be so relieved that they won’t pay attention to what might be going on behind the scenes.

Remember, by the end of The Dark Knight, the Joker and Two-Face had killed off some of Gotham’s top mob figures. So the Penguin sees an opportunity to move in and set himself up as the new kingpin. Publicly, he appears to be working to “bring Gotham back” (as Batman once said), but privately, in the shadows, he’s building his criminal empire.

Max Doomsday even goes on to describe his appearance and his trademarks, and how to make him real.  (Hire him to help write the script!)  Another highlight is how the Penguin would get his name:

It’s not hard to imagine a scene – maybe a conference of mob leaders – where Oswald has arrived from some formal gala, still in his tux, and somebody makes a crack about how he looks in his “penguin suit.” So Oswald kills the guy, or orders him killed. Hell, maybe he crushes the guy’s windpipe with an umbrella. (I don’t know if your standard umbrella’s actually strong enough to do that. I’m just throwin’ out the idea.) Or maybe the insult occurs in a more public setting, embarrassing Oswald in front of his moll and his high society friends.

Either way, the story gets around. From then on, Oswald’s called “the Penguin.” Never, ever to his face, but sneeringly, behind his back, like “Scarface” or “Bugsy.”

So Chris Nolan – whuttayathink?  I’ll put my two-cents in (ha ha… like Two-Face… not really).  I say make Tiny Lister’s tattooed prisoner become Killer Croc (he’s the guy who threw the charge out the window).  Or have Mr. Reese in accounting become the Riddler.  He can go crazy because he wants to tell the world about Bruce Wayne and the Batman, but he feels a great debt is owed… maybe Lucius Fox fires him and that’s what pushes him off the deep end.

Anyharleyquinn, if I can’t get even a hint of a spec of a promise, can I get this instead?


Me wanty... just kidding... not really... :(

Drunken Recollection… Douchbag Machines

See, you punch it, and it gives you a score... what do you mean what else does it do?

See, you punch it, and it gives you a score... what do you mean what else does it do?

I hate this thing.  I really do.

I wish I never set my eyes upon it.  I’ll go one better and wish my friends’ eyes had never set upon it, because they’re the facilitators of the addiction.

Meet Punch!  Or BoxClub… or Boxing… or whatever version the bar has.  They’re all over the place, like a drunk girl on me (I wish).  And they have been for awhile, but I’ve managed to keep my distance from what I designated as the Douchebag Machine.  The higher the number you can hit on the dangling nutsack, the bigger the nutsack you are.

Or so I used to pretend.  Now it’s almost like a Holy Grail when I step into a gin joint.  Whomever spots it first begins the murmurs – “Did you see?  Did you see?”  And every unit is different.  Ssome bags are soft, some are hard.  Some respond well to running at it and others don’t. 

So am I a douchebag for playing?  Nope.  And neither are my friends.

But everyone else still is.