Now I’m sure this has been up on theonering.net and the official lotr site for a while now but it’s the first time I’ve seen it posted. I just haven’t been motivated to check to be sure… so forgive me for not noticing it sooner, I guess I’m old.
Either that or after the divergence from the written work that took place in the second film, I’ve become less enamoured by the prospect of a third film and have subconciously forced myself not to get too overly excited about it.
Now there’s more than enough in there that the fanboy in me is twitching on the floor in convulsive glee over the picture, but sadly there is also enough visible divergence in the trailer that the purist in me is nervous and worried about what all is to come in the final film.
Here’s hoping for the best.
And no, for the record I’m not planning to go to the re-release extravaganza that apparently is being planned (if they even do one here in town that is). There’s no way I could sit down at 4 in the afternoon to watch the extended FotR and TTT editions on the bigscreen and then stay for a midnight showing of RotK and end up going home at 4 in the morning. While I’m sure twelve hours of sweaty and grubby Viggo and/or Orlando is just what the ladies want, it’s just not my bag bayyyybeeeeeee.
I’m ashamed to say, I have more of a life than that. Not much more mind you, but it’s quanitifiable nonetheless. Anyways… as one of my dad’s favourite old british comedy shows always liked to end:
Somehow I’ve got the song Pascal’s Submarine by Gord Downie stuck in my head. It’s a really fun little song that’s a bit of a departure from his work with the Hip. It’s catchy… and I dare say almost “pop-like” in tone. The thing that sets it apart is of course the lyrics. Gord is still the free associating poet laureate of Canadian Rock that he’s always been and I think that’s a good thing.
I still haven’t really figured out what all the song is about but maybe if I listen to it fifteen million more times I might get a clue or two.
Anyways. That was my random bit of Canadiana that 90% of you won’t even get, let alone understand.
As you were.
*wanders off singing the “Nah-nah Nah-nah-nah nah-nah-nenha” chorus*
Okay, I admit it, I’m a sap. A true dyed in the wool sap. I actually got all misty-eyed when I heard that they were crashing the Galileo satelite into Jupiter today. I’ve always loved images from space. They’ve shown me worlds beyond my own where my imagination has soared time and time again. And it’s things like this, human ingenuity and inquisitiveness, that continues to amaze and touch me deep inside.
Gallileo had the computing power roughly equivalent to an Apple II and still managed to send back some of the most amazing images and data of our solar system’s biggest planet and it’s nearest moons.
I’m sad that we’re losing such a treasured explorer but I’m proud to have witnessed, even remotely, the fruits of it’s labour.
Avast ye scurvy dogs and ne’er do wells. In case ye be a scurvy lubber and not know, Friday 19th September be International Talk Like A Pirate Day. So belay any normal talkin’, hoist the Jolly Roger, and keelhaul some bilge rats! Arrrr!
And on that note…
You are The Cap’n!
Some men are born great, some achieve greatness and some slit the throats of any man that stands between them and the mantle of power. You never met a man you couldn’t eviscerate. Not that mindless violence is the only avenue open to you – but why take an avenue when you have complete freeway access? You are the definitive Man of Action. You are James Bond in a blousy shirt and drawstring-fly pants. Your swash was buckled long ago and you have never been so sure of anything in your life as in your ability to bend everyone to your will. You will call anyone out and cut off their head if they show any sign of taking you on or backing down. You cannot be saddled with tedious underlings, but if one of your lieutenants shows an overly developed sense of ambition he may find more suitable accommodations in Davy Jones’ locker. That is, of course, IF you notice him. You tend to be self absorbed – a weakness that may keep you from seeing enemies where they are and imagining them where they are not.
Apparently I do have a price, or at least my soul does. According to the mercantile gurus of existential realty over at We Want Your Soul dot com my soul is worth £8916. For my peace of mind apparently, 82% of people have a purer soul than me.
Damn them all to my own personal private hell. (See the post from a few days ago).
I am apparently a Benevolent Ruler according to the Kingdomality Medieval Career Test. Which is fairly ironic and funny if you consider the fact that I just recently was backstabbed by a bunch of high school fuckwits in my old Anarchy Online org who felt that I wasn’t doing a good job as their org leader and decided to oust me in favour of someone who would “better benefit the org”… aka – one of their cronies who would let them get away with and encourage their shit for fun antics instead of actually running the org.
Now I remember why I hated high school so much: Elitist crap and cliquish backstabbing behaviour. Oh well, I’ve moved on and they’ll still collectively be a bunch of fuckwits and asshats come tomorrow.
In other news, I’m still waiting on my paperwork to process. The bunch of baboons at INS still are “Processing” my application. Which to me means they’ve filed it under “Forget about it you drunken Irish hippy malcontent” and just don’t have the cajones to tell me.
As you can see, I’m bored out of my tree and am venting idly while wondering if I’ll actually be tired enough to fall asleep anytime before six am…. and as it’s quarter to four in the morning as I write this, I’m in serious doubt that this will happen *sigh*. Fun fun fun…
I obviously need something to do. I could do some more work on my D&D campaign, but there isn’t a whole lot of motivation there as my current group has dried up like the bunch of wrinkled old prunes we are and there isn’t really an assurity that there will be a group in Texas if/when I finally get there. So my creative output in that regard has been put on hold and I just can’t seem to be bothered to put pen to paper, or finger to keyboard or whatever until I know that there will be some point to my effort beyond personal satisfaction. Playing god and tinkering with a world only gets you so far I guess. Apparently sharing your creation with others factors big in the personal satisfaction department as well… who knew.
This ennui has spilled over to my regular writing as well because I just can’t be bothered to do anything at all lately. My life’s on hold and at the whim of some unseen bureaucratic entity and I can’t get past it or move forward. It’s bugging the living fuck out of me.
I might just end up re-installing Quake 3 on this pitiful old PoS machine of mine and go get my ass handed to me by a bunch of 12 year olds with cutting edge game rigs and phat broadband pipeline connections thanks to “daddy’s credit card”. Nah, on second thought that would only increase my frustrations rather than decrease them.
Westley was right… Life is pain….. A pain in the fucking arse!
Anyways. Maybe I’ll go read for awhile and that’ll put me to sleep. G’nite to all you embittered and cynical souls out there. And to the asshats and fuckwits…. nah… nevermind. They aren’t worth the effort of a cynically witty snub.
Hey, if I’m going to Hell, I might as well design it so as it’s going to be excruciatingly painful right? I mean I have to get my money’s worth, right? Well… here goes. It ain’t pretty, but it’s … uhhh…. Hell.
Geeks, Goths Circle I Limbo
Rednecks Circle II Whirling in a Dark & Stormy Wind
Democrats, Republicans Circle III Mud, Rain, Cold, Hail & Snow
E-Mail Spammers Circle IV Rolling Weights
General asshats Circle V Stuck in Mud, Mangled
Parents who bring squalling brats to R-rated movies Circle VI Buried for Eternity
Saddam Hussein, Osama bin Laden Circle VII Burning Sands
Bill Gates, PETA Members Circle IIX Immersed in Excrement
Electron — You are full of energy and frentic movement. Although you have a philosophicaly “negative” outlook, people would hardly be able to tell it by looking at you. You get along well with protons and those who are positive.