How I would have made the prequels.

I love the hell out of Harry S. Plinkett’s reviews of the Star Wars prequels. Early on in his review of Revenge Of The Sith, he feints and hooks so well. You think he is going to make the obvious “they spelled shit wrong” joke. And what he actually says had me nearly dying of laughter.

When mediocrity is praised.

As I threatened, I am going to write a few things based on my thoughts after reading Outrage, the Vincent Bugliosi dissection of the O.J. Simpson trial.

Fukk off, DVD pusher.

Most of the time, when I go to the local shops and look at goods, it lifts my spirits somewhat. For most of the preceding year, whilst sitting around the house, I have been feeling… how can I put it? Out of sorts? Like my baby has died? Like I am stuck in a society that would rather throw me away than expend any effort to help me be what I can be? Like I have a masculine parental entity whom I have recently determined is determined to break my spirit?

X-Men: First Class.

Films exist that depict the reality of life on the autistic spectrum to one degree or another. None of them were made as such on purpose. When a film designed by accountants or individuals who likely have never met a psychologist or an autistic adult tries to depict being autistic, the result is always such a slap in the face that it makes the result impossible for me to watch.

Illusions of life, celebrity, and society, part whatever of millions

As I believe much of the trimmings make clear, I started this journal with one very specific purpose in mind. To add my voice and perspective to the so-called debate about autism civil rights. I say so-called debate because as any person who pays attention to the proper meanings of words can tell you, debate implies something. It implies that there are two (or more) sides to the argument, and both have a certain amount of demonstrable merit.

I am doing this all by myself, please remember…

As I was looking through some old posts and cleaning up some of what I consider to be the worst previously unnoticed mistakes in them, I noticed that the raw URLs of my posts (as opposed to the Shortlinks) were in some cases insanely long. Anyone who was there to witness when I posted a pair of posts about how awesome RoboCop and by extension its director, Paul Verhoeven, were, knows what I mean here.

In a word… Xana-DO!

I go on and on all of the time about things from when I was a boy. That is natural. Hell, I will let you in on a little secret: we all go on and on, all of the time, about things from when we were boys or girls. Even the best of us. What makes the difference, as they say, is the nature of the things from when we were boys or girls that we go on and on about. So in the spirit of trying to take what little sunshine is left in me and do something with it, I am going to ramble a lot about one of the first films I saw when I was a little boy: Xanadu.