Not to make light of the dead or anything...

But a couple months ago, who would've guessed that the suave old guy from Kill Bill would die of autoerotic asphyxiation while wearing fishnet stockings, and Michael Jackson would die of a cardiac arrest?

What's next, Ted Kennedy dying while courageously saving children from a burning building?

This would happen to me now.

Hot damn, femslash09 and remix_redux due dates are coming up fast. Times like these, it would be fun to have found a story to remix. So I guess I'll be buckling down and ficathoning, which means no updates for Star Trek or Terminator WIPs for a while. Sorry!

Cheerleading will be accepted.

ETA: Whoever keeps posting about shit on useless_facts is creeping me out. It's poo. Use an LJ-cut, weirdo.

(no subject)

So I was looking up Catherynne M. Valente, author of the Orphan's Tales series, when I saw a picture of her on Wikipedia.



And she looked really familiar, but I couldn't place where. She was even described as a poetess, which struck me as a little weird. Poetess... poetess. Then, suddenly, it hit me.



Roadhouse! Nightstick! Get me the President! COBRA just stole the James Tiptree, Jr. Award for the expansion or exploration of the understanding of gender!

I could start a WTF-icon meme with this.

...George Washington Carver? How rand... OH! Because he's black. Now I get it.

Frost/Nixon

Don't hit Page Down, it's not a fanfic.

So I watched the movie and I think they did a good job of making the subject matter interesting, even if they are guilty of ginning it up a bit too much (I never really bought that Nixon not apologizing for Watergate would kill the idea of democracy as a form of government, as one character states). Not a big fan of how every now and then they would have the actors put on old-age make-up and literally tell the audience what to think as sort of a bogus stab at cinema verite. It would be one thing if it were actual interview snippets or documentary footage, but since it's just, you know, Kevin Bacon with some dye in his hair reading lines, you know, why bother? It seems like an invention of the stage play that they could've afforded to lost or turned into narration or something, because it never worked for me.

And, uh, we were supposed to root for Nixon, right? Because charming old man and his fanatically loyal right-hand man (a GQ motherfucker-looking Kevin Bacon) trumps a bunch of smug, morally preening, pretentious "swingers" who we're supposed to think are hip, crowing about beating up an old guy. Sam Rockwell is particularly odious on that account. I get that we're supposed to like these guys, I just didn't. I wanted Frank Langella's Nixon to get tea with M and Spock Prime. And take a dachshund for a walk. I think what tore it was the moment where Frost plays this newsreel of Cambodia for Nixon, complete with maudlin music, to get an emotional reaction. It just reeks too much of sleazy, tabloid journalism for me.

I didn't mind the somewhat infamous invention of a phone call between a drunken, possibly senile Nixon and Frost, since it was pretty obviously a dramatic device to give some insight into the characters and the movie basically came out and said "yup, never happened, just go with it."

Also, not a fan of the ageism where when David Frost looks at a pretty woman, it's because he's an awesome hep cat, while when Nixon looks at pretty woman (and not even leers or anything), it's because he's creepy.