Let’s be clear from the outset: Avatar is nothing more than a meshing of religious, mythological, evolutionary themes, within a mostly well-concocted (if extremely formulaic) plot, powered by visually stunning scenery and innovative effects. As such, it neatly conjures the Matrix and Star Wars recipe (among many others): a collage of heavy-handed themes explored within tried-out plot templates and spectacular FX, be it bullet time, space explosions or motion capture / 3D. Aside from the technological merits, it brings about nothing new, yet it’s entertaining enough to make a good product. It reminds one of Solaris and Being John Malkovich, without being deep enough to be as thought-provoking.
A few bulleted thoughts that grabbed my attention:
-Gaia: The high point was how the Gaia hypothesis was presented: a collective set of memories from the planet’s (moon, actually) sentient inhabitants from eras bygone preserved within itself; a planetary Library of Alexandria for the ages. It’s an interesting evolutionary concept, the natives’ fortunes tied to their ecological surroundings; their shared experiences, their past, being preserved in the spirits of their ancestors. No need for books (or memorizing them à la Fahrenheit 451) or computers, one can simply use a built-in biological “port” to connect with the shared collective wisdom: a true democracy of knowledge.
(Moreover, the representation of a symbiotic evolutionary process wherein both, people and planet, evolve together as a holistic, interdependent Being, and are sufficiently entangled to the point that the fate of different tribes is (ostensibly) intertwined with that of their home celestial body, is a nice metaphor of the Cold war doctrine of Mutually Assured Destruction. The biological and ecological dependence is an organically-developed—by Nature itself—system of checks and balances: if sectarian strife brings about war, collective destruction of all factions, sooner or later, is assured. Every martial “victory” one tribe may attain over another is, by design, a pyrrhic one. The equivalent of the contemporaneous “armed peace” here on Earth—sans technology extrapolated to its tragic worst: nuclear weapons—has organically materialized. Darwinism at its romantic best!).
Religious undertones notwithstanding, the proposed scientific model (neural networking of “spirits” in another phase of existence with not only planet, but its flora and fauna too) analogizes an actual human brain in a quite elegant fashion: an Armstrong-ian giant leap from the mystical to a rational, scientifically-feasible template for an ecosystem in inextricable communion with the living beings that populate it.
-Buddhism: Just as Terminator presented Christian parallels in the annunciation of John Connor’s birth and supposed messianic stature, here Cameron threads a line towards a more philosophy-friendly, deity-less religion: Siddhartha’s own, Buddhism: Sigourney Weaver’s character’s is the Buddha that not only reaches Nirvana and becomes one with Truth & Perfect Knowledge (represented by the sacred tree, which is a proxy for Gautama’s Bodhi Tree), but also serves as the catalyst that, through its enlightened perspective, informs Pandora’s “sentient ecosystem” about the impending danger to its existence, awaking it from its passive, dormant state, so it can fulfill its own Darwinian purpose: survive through centrally coordinating its planet-encompassing neural network for an all-out, survival-of-the-fittest war against an exogenous enemy menacing the status quo upon which its existence is predicated.
(Sully himself can reasonably be read as a bodhisattva that abstains himself from reaching Nirvana and remains with his people, perhaps, not only out of love for la femme de ses rêves, but to eventually lead them to an evolutionary scientific leap harmonious with Nature, ushering a new era of progress).
-McGuffin: Cameron tends to use McGuffins in his films (John Connor in the 1st Terminator, la Coeur de la Mer in Titanic), and now he brings forth the unoriginally-named unobtanium, a priceless mineral that abounds in Pandora, coincidentally right under the tree where the native protagonists dwell. This serves to introduce the theme of the resource curse, i.e., the presence of a valuable commodity causing strife and exploitation to poor civilizations (rather than enhanced lifestyles) for reasons both endogenous as well as exogenous (this was most recently brought to life in the magnificent Blood Diamond). The “twist” here is that the natives were in such an early evolutionary stage (a non-commoditized, spiritual society) that they had no need for what the colonizers could offer them (i.e., no shiny mirrors for gold rip-off); their only desire being the status quo of their simple, yet spiritually-fulfilling existence, hence no bargaining was feasible, and war, inevitable (avatar infiltration or not).
(One glaring faux pas was using an actual piece of unobtanium rock placed in the corporate manager’s office in order to facilitate visual exposition to the audience, serving inadvertently to compromise the credibility of the story: in an actual corporate setting, a 20 million (or so) dollar mineral wouldn’t be idly sitting in a manager’s office to be shown to curious visitors; rather, it would be earning a profit in the market. Most shareholders would agree with this, to paraphrase one of the characters. Again, this is a small instance of actually detracting from the believability of the plot by trying to visually enhance exposition to the audience).
-Lack of peripheral characters: Besides the main 4 Na’avi protagonists (the leaders of the clan), the rest of the tribe is an anonymous mass of acolytes apparently devoid of individuality or opinions of their own. It would have been interesting if they had expounded more upon the basis of their society and shown a collage of the village’s daily activities.
-Emotional Evolution: The hero’s journey story prototype is made more interesting by the use of the antagonists to show the character’s emotional transition from human (when a Na’avi was his bête noire), to a man emotionally detached from his original race and progressively more attuned to his new nature and surroundings (the Colonel, initially a paternal figure of sorts, becomes his enemy). Kudos for this nifty trick!
-Deus ex machinas aplenty. The various other clans are only obliquely mentioned in one quick scene, yet that‘s sufficient to summon them at a moment’s notice, and garner their blind acquiescence and servitude when needed. This point should have really been worked upon via more screen time explaining the commonalities linking together Pandora’s different Na’avi clans (yes, they are symbiotic and common belief in Toruk Makto takes care of the leadership issue, but still it seems too contrived and convenient) . Without said scenes, the impromptu “coalition” seems like a gratuitous platform for an FX extravaganza typical of lesser films such as 2012 and 10,000 B.C.
On a lesser scale, the Na’avi poison arrows suddenly being able to penetrate the helicopter’s cockpit was a stretch, but most sad of all, was the wasted opportunity in the scene were Sully’s avatar was selected by the “flowery” souls of generations-past to be invited by Neyteri to the village. This introduced the messianic-chosen one theme—without justifying why he was chosen—when there was an actual reasonable explanation consistent with the screenplay: Sully’s avatar was, DNA-wise, part human, part Na’avi. Couldn’t his Na’avi side have been the previous Toruk Makto which, after being instantly organized by the spirits, received their protective embrace, thus explaining his sudden acceptance? Did Cameron left this (seemingly) correct explanation out to provide a more mystical feel? Whatever the case may be, the picture is lesser in its absence.
Screenplay: This was definitely the film’s nadir. All the interesting themes explored (colonialism, capitalism, human—and alien— individual and societal nature, symbiosis with the environment, et cetera), are diffused in an extremely formulaic script that seems back-engineered to fit the director’s agenda. That being said, the main characters are very well delineated and show a malleable emotional growth in alignment with the plot’s progression (excepting of course the hardcore capitalist and warmonger colonel who remain as static in the film as they would likely have in a real life setting).
The dialogue, on the other hand was more effective, drawing on a minimalist, to-the-point style—with few witty one-liners—as is to be expected from scientists and tribal beings in communion with their spiritual selves. George Lucas should take note: verbosity sometimes distracts attention from the plot. In Avatar’s case, the dialogue struck a perfect chord with the mood of the film and characters. Less is more, sometimes. Well done.
-The middle of the film seemed a bit overlong than it should perhaps be, but in retrospect it’s necessary to understand the character’s immersion into his avatar’s world and his subsequent emotional transformation.
Score: Frankly, this is one of the most spectacular scores I’ve been treated to, not because of a particular piece of music that elevates itself about the rest (like the signature John Williams’ scores from Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Superman, and such), but because of the seemingly perfect way the sound coalesces with the spirit of each and every scene it accompanies. When a score can tell a story by evoking the feeling of the images before your eyes, when image and sound fuse to capture the essence of a shot in richly textured detail, you know you’re in the presence of greatness. Hail, Mr. Horner!
Oscar. Besides set design, score and a plethora of technical awards, I just can’t see this film deserving any of the major recognitions. (Definitely not original screenplay or best picture, although best Director looks like a reasonable proposition). Despite the solid storytelling and a creative meshing of well-known themes and ideas, the overall framework of the film is too formulaic to make it a deserving winner. Of course, the paradigm shift brought about by the 3D technology is a technical element that fortifies its case and surely must be considered.
But in the end, it’s the sociological context in which the film’s technological prowess is being introduced that will secure the best-picture Oscar: at a time when the business model of movies as a (theatrical) experience is being challenged by a tsunami-like wave of new media that menaces to shift film-watching to the PC, laptop, cellphone (maybe even the microwave, eventually!), Avatar brings hope that its added dimension (both literal and metaphorical) will help galvanize the public back towards the theaters, and maintain alive the romance between audiences and the silver screen as the medium of choice that links generations together (a Tree of Souls, if you will).
miércoles, 26 de mayo de 2010
miércoles, 17 de febrero de 2010
(500) Days of Summer
A quirky look back at what is, perhaps, the truest film about the nature/concept/idea of love you may ever see
This is not a film about romance.
It is a voyage to try and decode the concept of love.
A romantic comedy, this is not.
A few laughs are sprinkled to keep you engaged, though.
Just forget nomenclature, and enjoy the ride.
Peace out.
(And Happy Valentine’s)
Day (-11,628)
You won sperm race. Congratulations!
Day (498)
If there’s no sunlight in Summersville, why not move? A fantasy cannot provide shadow (or warmth) when cold, icy snow dominates the panorama at the other side of the window.
(Punxsutawney Phil can be a bitch sometimes).
Day (3)
A vision. An oasis of hope in your Sisyphus-like existence. !Y el azul celaje de sus ojos! (Now you’re even thinking in another language!). Could she be the one?
Day (73)
Usually a child is endowed with innocence and unbounded idealism. Here, Tom’s kid sister showcases the opposite: experience, reason, common sense, i.e., the qualities Tom has unconsciously blocked to keep alive the fantasy he so passionately wants to indulge. A kid as the voice of reason? Perhaps this is not a typical film.
Day (29)
She has an eclectic musical taste—which matches yours! What if that over-used cultural meme, “Opposites attract,” was wrong? After all, you enjoy being around each other!
Day 314
Yes, the ending of The Graduate is (ostensibly) blissful. Have you asked yourself what happens after they get out of the bus? Moreover, what do you actually know about Summer? Her history? Family? Red flags are your friend.
Day (272)
Penis! PEnis! PENis! PENIs! PENIS!!!!
(...)
(Love?)
Day (17)
Having a steady job? Good.
Assisting your best friend in his drunken escapades? Not as good.
Getting osculated at the copy machine by the girl of your dreams? Priceless!
(For everything else, there’s Hallmark).
Day (432)
Perspective: Noun. An event can be interpreted differently by the same person, given enough time.
(...)
Getting osculated at the copy machine by the girl of your dreams? A nightmare?
Day (47)
Mot: French term for word. (And, also, an anagram of Tom). What are the odds? Having a name that speaks about what you do: using words to build sentences—not edifying buildings out of concrete blocks. What if la femme de tes rêves worked at the same greeting card factory you write your words out? Wait, she does. Clearly meant to be! The footprint of Destiny could not be clearer...
Quoth the Bard: “What’s in a name?...”
Day (387)
Hallmark isn’t evil, nor is it good. It’s a tool. As such, it can be wielded wisely...or poorly. There are 2 kinds of people: those who defer to greeting cards to communicate their feelings, and those who rather speak their own words. Of course, many a times, neither group is sufficiently attuned to their own feelings for their message to be rooted in actual emotions. How close are you connected to your metaphorical heart?
Day (212)
Life is lived linearly. Memories, meanwhile, flash forward and back in a non linear, unpredictable pattern; they are disorderly structured. Chaos theory at work: one day you feel liked (lying in bed, with her...in front of a chinese family), the other ignored (how could she not notice you playing her song!), then you could swear she loves you (she's just having trouble articulating it. No worries). (...)
Love (or the perception of it) is a rollercoaster ride which capriciously trascends the tidiness of time.
Day (167)
If your best memories about domestic life with your (desired) partner spring forth from a visit to an IKEA furniture store, perhaps mystery is not afoot; rather, something might be clearly amiss...
Day (238)
When Cupid beats you at chess, be a knight in shining armor and kneel down your king. If your own dreams have metamorphosed into a nightmare, maybe you ought to wake up, look at the board and reassess your strategy, mate.
Day (432)
She comes back to your life. Maybe the self-destructive, cynical defense mechanisms you, like a great architect, craftfully erected, were faulty. Perhaps she is actually the missing chandelier in the edifice of your romantic life.
Day (366)
Illusion: Tom is as good looking as Han Solo.
Reality: Summer is much better looking than Leia.
Day (366 1/2)
Tom: I love you.
Summer: I know.
Day (477)
Might spending your time with the (alleged) love of your life preclude you from actually meeting and recognizing HER who would be a better (and willing) life companion? While you wish for Pygmalion to come to life, SHE might pass you by...
Bueller? Bueller?
Day (23)
Meet cute at an elevator going up. Good omen!
Day (501)
Meet cute at top floor, where only way is down. Bad omen? Haven’t you watched the film? Now get out, stop looking for signs and let life—and spontaneous serendipity—be.
(And be a man for all seasons).
Day (-10,XYZ)
SHE won sperm race...
End Credits
This film pits the paradigm of illusion vis à vis reality. It uses the concept of love as its muse (although it is, actually, an abstract MacGuffin).
This film is dialectical: the clash between reality and make-believe breed perception. The closer perception gets to reality (and distances itself from the cloak of illusory imagination), the clearer the picture, and the better the foundations for your decisions, romantic or otherwise. (Yes, this film is Platonic, but from a philosophical perspective, not a romantic one).
This movie is Socratic, also. It doesn’t hand out answers, but it poses the right questions. The tools to solve them lie latent within you. If you dig deep, you will see the truth.
(And it shall set you free).
See you next Autumn.
This is not a film about romance.
It is a voyage to try and decode the concept of love.
A romantic comedy, this is not.
A few laughs are sprinkled to keep you engaged, though.
Just forget nomenclature, and enjoy the ride.
Peace out.
(And Happy Valentine’s)
Day (-11,628)
You won sperm race. Congratulations!
Day (498)
If there’s no sunlight in Summersville, why not move? A fantasy cannot provide shadow (or warmth) when cold, icy snow dominates the panorama at the other side of the window.
(Punxsutawney Phil can be a bitch sometimes).
Day (3)
A vision. An oasis of hope in your Sisyphus-like existence. !Y el azul celaje de sus ojos! (Now you’re even thinking in another language!). Could she be the one?
Day (73)
Usually a child is endowed with innocence and unbounded idealism. Here, Tom’s kid sister showcases the opposite: experience, reason, common sense, i.e., the qualities Tom has unconsciously blocked to keep alive the fantasy he so passionately wants to indulge. A kid as the voice of reason? Perhaps this is not a typical film.
Day (29)
She has an eclectic musical taste—which matches yours! What if that over-used cultural meme, “Opposites attract,” was wrong? After all, you enjoy being around each other!
Day 314
Yes, the ending of The Graduate is (ostensibly) blissful. Have you asked yourself what happens after they get out of the bus? Moreover, what do you actually know about Summer? Her history? Family? Red flags are your friend.
Day (272)
Penis! PEnis! PENis! PENIs! PENIS!!!!
(...)
(Love?)
Day (17)
Having a steady job? Good.
Assisting your best friend in his drunken escapades? Not as good.
Getting osculated at the copy machine by the girl of your dreams? Priceless!
(For everything else, there’s Hallmark).
Day (432)
Perspective: Noun. An event can be interpreted differently by the same person, given enough time.
(...)
Getting osculated at the copy machine by the girl of your dreams? A nightmare?
Day (47)
Mot: French term for word. (And, also, an anagram of Tom). What are the odds? Having a name that speaks about what you do: using words to build sentences—not edifying buildings out of concrete blocks. What if la femme de tes rêves worked at the same greeting card factory you write your words out? Wait, she does. Clearly meant to be! The footprint of Destiny could not be clearer...
Quoth the Bard: “What’s in a name?...”
Day (387)
Hallmark isn’t evil, nor is it good. It’s a tool. As such, it can be wielded wisely...or poorly. There are 2 kinds of people: those who defer to greeting cards to communicate their feelings, and those who rather speak their own words. Of course, many a times, neither group is sufficiently attuned to their own feelings for their message to be rooted in actual emotions. How close are you connected to your metaphorical heart?
Day (212)
Life is lived linearly. Memories, meanwhile, flash forward and back in a non linear, unpredictable pattern; they are disorderly structured. Chaos theory at work: one day you feel liked (lying in bed, with her...in front of a chinese family), the other ignored (how could she not notice you playing her song!), then you could swear she loves you (she's just having trouble articulating it. No worries). (...)
Love (or the perception of it) is a rollercoaster ride which capriciously trascends the tidiness of time.
Day (167)
If your best memories about domestic life with your (desired) partner spring forth from a visit to an IKEA furniture store, perhaps mystery is not afoot; rather, something might be clearly amiss...
Day (238)
When Cupid beats you at chess, be a knight in shining armor and kneel down your king. If your own dreams have metamorphosed into a nightmare, maybe you ought to wake up, look at the board and reassess your strategy, mate.
Day (432)
She comes back to your life. Maybe the self-destructive, cynical defense mechanisms you, like a great architect, craftfully erected, were faulty. Perhaps she is actually the missing chandelier in the edifice of your romantic life.
Day (366)
Illusion: Tom is as good looking as Han Solo.
Reality: Summer is much better looking than Leia.
Day (366 1/2)
Tom: I love you.
Summer: I know.
Day (477)
Might spending your time with the (alleged) love of your life preclude you from actually meeting and recognizing HER who would be a better (and willing) life companion? While you wish for Pygmalion to come to life, SHE might pass you by...
Bueller? Bueller?
Day (23)
Meet cute at an elevator going up. Good omen!
Day (501)
Meet cute at top floor, where only way is down. Bad omen? Haven’t you watched the film? Now get out, stop looking for signs and let life—and spontaneous serendipity—be.
(And be a man for all seasons).
Day (-10,XYZ)
SHE won sperm race...
End Credits
This film pits the paradigm of illusion vis à vis reality. It uses the concept of love as its muse (although it is, actually, an abstract MacGuffin).
This film is dialectical: the clash between reality and make-believe breed perception. The closer perception gets to reality (and distances itself from the cloak of illusory imagination), the clearer the picture, and the better the foundations for your decisions, romantic or otherwise. (Yes, this film is Platonic, but from a philosophical perspective, not a romantic one).
This movie is Socratic, also. It doesn’t hand out answers, but it poses the right questions. The tools to solve them lie latent within you. If you dig deep, you will see the truth.
(And it shall set you free).
See you next Autumn.
viernes, 12 de febrero de 2010
Un amigo a través de la ventana
Quizo el destino que decidieras contruir tu casa en la palmera justo frente a mi ventana. Agradezco a las Fates esa aparentemente fortuita escogencia de locación domicilial, pues resultó en la ofrenda de tu compañía. Posiblemente nunca me conociste, si bien durante 3 semanas te saludaba todas las mañanas al despertarme. Tal vez, a través del vidrio polarizado distinguías mi presencia, mas nunca supistes que te observaba cariñosamente --como un padre a un hijo-- y deseaba hablar contigo y conocer más de tí --además que eres un prodigioso arquitecto, claro está--.
Durante las tardes lluviosas de fin de semana, observaba preocupado tu palmera columpiarse, víctima de los caprichos de la naturaleza, mientras tú permanecías impertérrito, paternalmente protegiendo al huevo del cual 5 días atrás finalmente brotaría a la vida tu pequeño hijo.
Recuerdo con alegría cuando elongaba mi cuello más allá de sus límites físicos para lograr --acaso-- observar ese blanco como la nieve ovoide tranquilamente reposando sobre el nido cuando tú te ibas en procura de alimento; sonrío para mis adentros cuando te recuerdo regresar a casa, cambiar de posición el frágil huevito --temporal hogar de tu futuro heredero-- y señorialmente acomodarte sobre él, dándole calor y --más importante-- transmitiéndole amor.
Las noches heladas de invierno, tu mojado cuerpo noblemente colocado sobre tu futura cría, tus húmedas alas cobijándole protectoramente. Cómo hubiese querido comunicarme contigo y ofrecerte posada en mi humilde hogar, tener la posibilidad de alimentarte, calentarte...Desafortunadamente, la Naturaleza no diseñó un lenguaje común para que pudiésemos entendernos.
LLegaría la mañana del pasado domingo cuando, al despertar e ir a verte, te encontraría posado sobre el borde de tu hogar, delicadamente extendiendo tu cabeza hacia abajo, de manera que la lombriz sostenida en tu pico pudiese ser alcanzada por tu recién nacido hijo: ¡Zippy, ya eres padre..Tu nido se había convertido en cuna! No tienes idea cuánto disfruté ese mágico momento; tras emocionalmente vivir contigo la prolongada espera hacia la culminación de la gestación de tu ahora nacido bebé, el verlo brotar a la vida y alimentarse por primera vez de la boca de su padre --para luego nuevamente esconder su aún tenuemente plumado cuerpo y disfrutar de su banquete en el comfort del acogedor hogar de ramitas que tan hábilmente le diseñaste-- fue un hito que dudo olvidaré.
El tormentoso invierno amenazantemente azotando, las ramas de los árboles caprichosamente estremeciéndose, tu hogar valientemente resistiendo los crueles embates desde la frágil palmera de la cual ya por 3 semanas habías sido inquilino. Mi temor por tu destino --y el del encantador regalo que tan sólo 2 días atrás hubiese dejado la cigueña: Zippy lassos stork!-- se acrecentaba. La mañana del martes, tu cuna se mostraba parcialmente inclinada hacia el piso; una despiadada espada de Damocles se cernía inevitablemente sobre su estabilidad estructural: Sólo nos quedaba anhelar que la Fortuna permitiese que tu encantadora criatura --bautizada "Nildito" en honor de mi querida hermana-- hubiese logrado ya desarrollar sus alas para el inevitable momento cuando su cuna no resistiese ya más.
La mañana del miércoles iniciaría promisoriamente. La calle lucía seca; al parecer no había llovido durante la noche. Seguramente la cuna de Nildito habría aguantado un día más...Desde mi lado de la ventana predominaba la confianza, la alegría, el regocijo: Todo permanecía igual, mas, al levantar la mirada, la magnitud de la tragedia acribilló mis ojos sin misericordia alguna: El nido-cuna perpendicular al suelo, casi por completo derrumabo. En eso momento te ví, posado sobre la negra reja que circunda mi casa, observando frenéticamente tu derredor, percibiendo visualmente todo el jardín con la esperanza aún latiendo. Diez minutos permaneciste sólo en esa fría reja, la amargura de lo inevitable poco a poco haciendo mella en tu corazón. Tu búsqueda fue infructuosa; es mejor que haya sido así, que no hayás visto lo que minutos después me tocó comprobar.
El jardín alrededor de una palmera, un recodo de verdor en el artificial panorama urbano. La hierba recibiendo el acogedor calor del Sol, ignorando de que sus rayos no eran para ella, sino para la frágil figura que inerte yacía posada sobre ella. Aún sin plumas, sus alas apenas ligeramente formadas, descansaba una tierna criatura, su existencia prematuramente interrumpida por el gélido abrazo del suelo 7 metros debajo de su cuna. Con su pico abierto, el cuerpo inmóvil de Nildito reposaba, mientras su alma --envuelta de pureza e inocencia-- ascendía hacia los Cielos, donde su fulgurante --si bien efímera-- luz, brillaría eternamente.
Hoy miércoles 24 de mayo, pasa a mejor vida Nildito. Con especial cariño lo recordarán por siempre Carlos y su querido amigo del otro lado de la ventana, Zippy, el pajarito más encantador que jamás haya existido.
Durante las tardes lluviosas de fin de semana, observaba preocupado tu palmera columpiarse, víctima de los caprichos de la naturaleza, mientras tú permanecías impertérrito, paternalmente protegiendo al huevo del cual 5 días atrás finalmente brotaría a la vida tu pequeño hijo.
Recuerdo con alegría cuando elongaba mi cuello más allá de sus límites físicos para lograr --acaso-- observar ese blanco como la nieve ovoide tranquilamente reposando sobre el nido cuando tú te ibas en procura de alimento; sonrío para mis adentros cuando te recuerdo regresar a casa, cambiar de posición el frágil huevito --temporal hogar de tu futuro heredero-- y señorialmente acomodarte sobre él, dándole calor y --más importante-- transmitiéndole amor.
Las noches heladas de invierno, tu mojado cuerpo noblemente colocado sobre tu futura cría, tus húmedas alas cobijándole protectoramente. Cómo hubiese querido comunicarme contigo y ofrecerte posada en mi humilde hogar, tener la posibilidad de alimentarte, calentarte...Desafortunadamente, la Naturaleza no diseñó un lenguaje común para que pudiésemos entendernos.
LLegaría la mañana del pasado domingo cuando, al despertar e ir a verte, te encontraría posado sobre el borde de tu hogar, delicadamente extendiendo tu cabeza hacia abajo, de manera que la lombriz sostenida en tu pico pudiese ser alcanzada por tu recién nacido hijo: ¡Zippy, ya eres padre..Tu nido se había convertido en cuna! No tienes idea cuánto disfruté ese mágico momento; tras emocionalmente vivir contigo la prolongada espera hacia la culminación de la gestación de tu ahora nacido bebé, el verlo brotar a la vida y alimentarse por primera vez de la boca de su padre --para luego nuevamente esconder su aún tenuemente plumado cuerpo y disfrutar de su banquete en el comfort del acogedor hogar de ramitas que tan hábilmente le diseñaste-- fue un hito que dudo olvidaré.
El tormentoso invierno amenazantemente azotando, las ramas de los árboles caprichosamente estremeciéndose, tu hogar valientemente resistiendo los crueles embates desde la frágil palmera de la cual ya por 3 semanas habías sido inquilino. Mi temor por tu destino --y el del encantador regalo que tan sólo 2 días atrás hubiese dejado la cigueña: Zippy lassos stork!-- se acrecentaba. La mañana del martes, tu cuna se mostraba parcialmente inclinada hacia el piso; una despiadada espada de Damocles se cernía inevitablemente sobre su estabilidad estructural: Sólo nos quedaba anhelar que la Fortuna permitiese que tu encantadora criatura --bautizada "Nildito" en honor de mi querida hermana-- hubiese logrado ya desarrollar sus alas para el inevitable momento cuando su cuna no resistiese ya más.
La mañana del miércoles iniciaría promisoriamente. La calle lucía seca; al parecer no había llovido durante la noche. Seguramente la cuna de Nildito habría aguantado un día más...Desde mi lado de la ventana predominaba la confianza, la alegría, el regocijo: Todo permanecía igual, mas, al levantar la mirada, la magnitud de la tragedia acribilló mis ojos sin misericordia alguna: El nido-cuna perpendicular al suelo, casi por completo derrumabo. En eso momento te ví, posado sobre la negra reja que circunda mi casa, observando frenéticamente tu derredor, percibiendo visualmente todo el jardín con la esperanza aún latiendo. Diez minutos permaneciste sólo en esa fría reja, la amargura de lo inevitable poco a poco haciendo mella en tu corazón. Tu búsqueda fue infructuosa; es mejor que haya sido así, que no hayás visto lo que minutos después me tocó comprobar.
El jardín alrededor de una palmera, un recodo de verdor en el artificial panorama urbano. La hierba recibiendo el acogedor calor del Sol, ignorando de que sus rayos no eran para ella, sino para la frágil figura que inerte yacía posada sobre ella. Aún sin plumas, sus alas apenas ligeramente formadas, descansaba una tierna criatura, su existencia prematuramente interrumpida por el gélido abrazo del suelo 7 metros debajo de su cuna. Con su pico abierto, el cuerpo inmóvil de Nildito reposaba, mientras su alma --envuelta de pureza e inocencia-- ascendía hacia los Cielos, donde su fulgurante --si bien efímera-- luz, brillaría eternamente.
Hoy miércoles 24 de mayo, pasa a mejor vida Nildito. Con especial cariño lo recordarán por siempre Carlos y su querido amigo del otro lado de la ventana, Zippy, el pajarito más encantador que jamás haya existido.
Film Q & A (SERIOUS version)
1. La película de tu infancia: Ferris Bueller's Day Off
2. Tu película favorita (la #1): It’s a Wonderful Life / Love Actually / Star Wars.
3. La peor de todas las que has visto: The Fog.
4. Géneros cinematográficos preferidos: Romantic Comedies, Dystopic Sci-fi.
5. Lloraste a moco tendido viendo: IaWL, when Clarence gets his wings. Niagara Falls meets Iguazú and Victoria.
6. Pasaste un miedo espantoso con: When the phone rang while watching The Ring!
7. La más divertida: Eurotrip. (But don’t tell Scottie: he doesn’t know!).
8. Cine independiente y/o extranjero o made in Hollywood: Hollywood, by 12 parsecs.
9. Una gran decepción fue: Fart: The Movie / Children of Men
10. Mejor actor: Christian Bale / Jimmy Stewart
11. Mejor actriz: Kate Winslet
12. Mejor actor hispano: N/A
13. Mejor actriz hispana: N/A
14. Peor actor: Pauly Shore
15. Peor actriz: Pamela Anderson , Carmen Electra...
16. Peor actor hispano: N/A
17. Peor actriz hispana: N/A
18. Actor/Actriz más atractiva: Jennifer Connelly
19. Una escena dramática inolvidable: Field of Dreams (spoiler): When the catcher takes off his mask revealing himself to be Ray’s estranged dad.
20. Una escena cómica: When they give the Bratislavan waiter a few cents and he goes: “I’m rich. I quit!—Eurotrip
21. Una escena realmente terrorífica: Hannibal Lecter feeding some dude HIS own brain. As if!
22. Una frase emblemática que atesores: Chance favors the prepared mind—Undersiege 2: Dark Territory.
23. El mejor director vivo: M. Night Shyamalan
24. Y el mejor director ya fallecido: Frank Capra
25. La mejor película de animación: Meet the Robinsons
26. La mejor adaptación de un libro: The 10 Commandments.
27. La mejor adaptación de un cómic: Batman Begins
28. Película más esperada en estos momentos: Sherlock Holmes.
29. Película que esperas tener en tu colección: It Happenned One Night.
30. La última que adquiriste: Pride of the Yankees
2. Tu película favorita (la #1): It’s a Wonderful Life / Love Actually / Star Wars.
3. La peor de todas las que has visto: The Fog.
4. Géneros cinematográficos preferidos: Romantic Comedies, Dystopic Sci-fi.
5. Lloraste a moco tendido viendo: IaWL, when Clarence gets his wings. Niagara Falls meets Iguazú and Victoria.
6. Pasaste un miedo espantoso con: When the phone rang while watching The Ring!
7. La más divertida: Eurotrip. (But don’t tell Scottie: he doesn’t know!).
8. Cine independiente y/o extranjero o made in Hollywood: Hollywood, by 12 parsecs.
9. Una gran decepción fue: Fart: The Movie / Children of Men
10. Mejor actor: Christian Bale / Jimmy Stewart
11. Mejor actriz: Kate Winslet
12. Mejor actor hispano: N/A
13. Mejor actriz hispana: N/A
14. Peor actor: Pauly Shore
15. Peor actriz: Pamela Anderson , Carmen Electra...
16. Peor actor hispano: N/A
17. Peor actriz hispana: N/A
18. Actor/Actriz más atractiva: Jennifer Connelly
19. Una escena dramática inolvidable: Field of Dreams (spoiler): When the catcher takes off his mask revealing himself to be Ray’s estranged dad.
20. Una escena cómica: When they give the Bratislavan waiter a few cents and he goes: “I’m rich. I quit!—Eurotrip
21. Una escena realmente terrorífica: Hannibal Lecter feeding some dude HIS own brain. As if!
22. Una frase emblemática que atesores: Chance favors the prepared mind—Undersiege 2: Dark Territory.
23. El mejor director vivo: M. Night Shyamalan
24. Y el mejor director ya fallecido: Frank Capra
25. La mejor película de animación: Meet the Robinsons
26. La mejor adaptación de un libro: The 10 Commandments.
27. La mejor adaptación de un cómic: Batman Begins
28. Película más esperada en estos momentos: Sherlock Holmes.
29. Película que esperas tener en tu colección: It Happenned One Night.
30. La última que adquiriste: Pride of the Yankees
Film Q & A (tongue-in-cheek version)
1. La película de tu infancia: The Exorcist
2. Tu película favorita (la #1): The one with the gay rabbit
3. La peor de todas las que has visto: Children of Men / Junior / The one where the gay rabbit dies.
4. Géneros cinematográficos preferidos: Porn
5. Lloraste a moco tendido viendo: Crying is for sissies.
6. Pasaste un miedo espantoso con: My Little Pony: The Movie
7. La más divertida: Saving Private Ryan
8. Cine independiente y/o extranjero o made in Hollywood: Cine pirata
9. Una gran decepción fue: Fart: The Movie
10. Mejor actor: Pauly Shore
11. Mejor actriz: Jessica Simpson
12. Mejor actor hispano: Enrique Gómez Bolaños
13. Mejor actriz hispana: La Chilindrina
14. Peor actor: Leo (aunque es un rico!).
15. Peor actriz: Rupaul
16. Peor actor hispano: Ignacio Santos
17. Peor actriz hispana: Jennifer López’ ass
18. Actor/Actriz más atractiva: Vincent Schiavelli / Darlene Cates
19. Una escena dramática inolvidable: When Jim Carrey farts in the elevator-Liar, Liar.
20. Una escena cómica: La muerte de la mamá de Bambi
21. Una escena realmente terrorífica: Heath and Jake's passionate kiss. The horror!
22. Una frase emblemática que atesores: Greed is good-Gordon Gekko.
23. El mejor director - vivo: Mel Gibson
24. Y el mejor director - ya fallecido: Mel Gibson (resucitó!).
25. La mejor película de animación: Bring it on (qué bien animan esas porristas!).
26. La mejor adaptación de un libro: Da Vinci Code.
27. La mejor adaptación de un cómic: Cualquiera en la que salga Brandon Routh!
28. Película más esperada en estos momentos: The one where the gay rabbit loses his virginity to a hippo.
29. Película que esperas tener en tu colección: The one where the hippo tells the rabbit he’s his father.
30. La última que adquiriste: Why buy them? Become a movie critic and they give them to you for free!
2. Tu película favorita (la #1): The one with the gay rabbit
3. La peor de todas las que has visto: Children of Men / Junior / The one where the gay rabbit dies.
4. Géneros cinematográficos preferidos: Porn
5. Lloraste a moco tendido viendo: Crying is for sissies.
6. Pasaste un miedo espantoso con: My Little Pony: The Movie
7. La más divertida: Saving Private Ryan
8. Cine independiente y/o extranjero o made in Hollywood: Cine pirata
9. Una gran decepción fue: Fart: The Movie
10. Mejor actor: Pauly Shore
11. Mejor actriz: Jessica Simpson
12. Mejor actor hispano: Enrique Gómez Bolaños
13. Mejor actriz hispana: La Chilindrina
14. Peor actor: Leo (aunque es un rico!).
15. Peor actriz: Rupaul
16. Peor actor hispano: Ignacio Santos
17. Peor actriz hispana: Jennifer López’ ass
18. Actor/Actriz más atractiva: Vincent Schiavelli / Darlene Cates
19. Una escena dramática inolvidable: When Jim Carrey farts in the elevator-Liar, Liar.
20. Una escena cómica: La muerte de la mamá de Bambi
21. Una escena realmente terrorífica: Heath and Jake's passionate kiss. The horror!
22. Una frase emblemática que atesores: Greed is good-Gordon Gekko.
23. El mejor director - vivo: Mel Gibson
24. Y el mejor director - ya fallecido: Mel Gibson (resucitó!).
25. La mejor película de animación: Bring it on (qué bien animan esas porristas!).
26. La mejor adaptación de un libro: Da Vinci Code.
27. La mejor adaptación de un cómic: Cualquiera en la que salga Brandon Routh!
28. Película más esperada en estos momentos: The one where the gay rabbit loses his virginity to a hippo.
29. Película que esperas tener en tu colección: The one where the hippo tells the rabbit he’s his father.
30. La última que adquiriste: Why buy them? Become a movie critic and they give them to you for free!
Even if Kurt Warner retires, the Hall Beckons
(Written before Warner's last game prior to calling it quits)
Much controversy has been built around the recent rumor of Kurt Warner calling it quits after this post-season culminates, thus voiding the last year of his contract. Considering the same musings were ubiquitous after Arizona’s implausible Super Bowl run last season, apparently it’s déjà vu all over again. However, there’s one subtle distinction this time: Warner’s concussion midway through this season presents a health scare that might tilt the balance of an almost 40 year-old family man—as accomplished as any QB is expected to be at the NFL level—towards taking the less risky route and biding adieu to the game he loves.
Such situation would depend, in no small measure, to the success of the Cards in the playoffs—a Super Bowl victory would provide a perfect swan song to a storybook career. (And after gun-slinging his team to an epic 51-45 wild card victory against Green Bay on the strength of 377 yards and 5 TD passes, such an scenario is not as far-fetched as previously imagined).
Leaving such imponderables aside and regardless of how this season ends, one thing’s certain: Kurt Warner has earned his trip to Canton. In a shortened career that started in his late twenties after going undrafted and taking a circuitous detour through Arena Football and NFL Europe, he made the most of his maiden opportunity with the Rams, leading the Greatest Show on Turf to 2 Super Bowls in 3 years, winning one—and collecting 2 regular season MVP awards in the process. After injuries and lesser performances derailed his success, leading to being released by Saint Louis, and a failed stint with the Giants, he rejuvenated his career in Arizona, leading a young team without any semblance of a running game to the Big Show and, ever so cruelly, being left to impotently watch his defense fail to hold a lead in the waning seconds of the game.
Taking 2 different teams to a Super Bowl is no small feat, nor is it posting the 3 best passing yards game in Super Bowl history—or owning a 9-3 playoff record, for that matter—but when one combines such stellar postseason play with regular season numbers than rank among the most efficient ever in such metrics as yards per pass (7.95), completion percentage (65.5%) or QB rating (93.7), one can brush aside his shortened career (as evidenced by “only” amassing 208 passing TDs and over 32,000 yards) and without hesitation accept the self-evident narrative: Kurt Warner can hold his own with the legends of the game as one of the best passers to ever throw a football.
Much controversy has been built around the recent rumor of Kurt Warner calling it quits after this post-season culminates, thus voiding the last year of his contract. Considering the same musings were ubiquitous after Arizona’s implausible Super Bowl run last season, apparently it’s déjà vu all over again. However, there’s one subtle distinction this time: Warner’s concussion midway through this season presents a health scare that might tilt the balance of an almost 40 year-old family man—as accomplished as any QB is expected to be at the NFL level—towards taking the less risky route and biding adieu to the game he loves.
Such situation would depend, in no small measure, to the success of the Cards in the playoffs—a Super Bowl victory would provide a perfect swan song to a storybook career. (And after gun-slinging his team to an epic 51-45 wild card victory against Green Bay on the strength of 377 yards and 5 TD passes, such an scenario is not as far-fetched as previously imagined).
Leaving such imponderables aside and regardless of how this season ends, one thing’s certain: Kurt Warner has earned his trip to Canton. In a shortened career that started in his late twenties after going undrafted and taking a circuitous detour through Arena Football and NFL Europe, he made the most of his maiden opportunity with the Rams, leading the Greatest Show on Turf to 2 Super Bowls in 3 years, winning one—and collecting 2 regular season MVP awards in the process. After injuries and lesser performances derailed his success, leading to being released by Saint Louis, and a failed stint with the Giants, he rejuvenated his career in Arizona, leading a young team without any semblance of a running game to the Big Show and, ever so cruelly, being left to impotently watch his defense fail to hold a lead in the waning seconds of the game.
Taking 2 different teams to a Super Bowl is no small feat, nor is it posting the 3 best passing yards game in Super Bowl history—or owning a 9-3 playoff record, for that matter—but when one combines such stellar postseason play with regular season numbers than rank among the most efficient ever in such metrics as yards per pass (7.95), completion percentage (65.5%) or QB rating (93.7), one can brush aside his shortened career (as evidenced by “only” amassing 208 passing TDs and over 32,000 yards) and without hesitation accept the self-evident narrative: Kurt Warner can hold his own with the legends of the game as one of the best passers to ever throw a football.
After admitting to steroid use, is Mark McGwire HOF bound?
Finally, the worst kept secret in baseball is a secret no more. Mark McGwire has publicly admitted to using steroids intermittently in the 90’s, including the epic showdown against fellow slugger Sammy Sosa that caught the imaginations of millions, and revitalized the passion for baseball during that unforgettable 1998 season.
After countless allegations since his “vote of silence” pertaining to steroid usage in a series of Congressional hearings 5 years ago, Big Mac’s public image had taken a beating, as evidenced not only by his own isolation from the public eye, but by his repeated shunning by Cooperstown voters. As he prepares to initiate a new phase in his baseball career as hitting coach of his former team, the Saint Louis Cardinals, alongside his mentor, friend and staunch supporter, Tony La Russa, hopefully this (overly delayed) apology will bring some closure to the shroud of controversy and public outcry that has surrounded his persona for the better part of this recently concluded decade.
And, perhaps, this act of contrition may help pave the way to refurbishing his image and, just maybe, even allow for his eventual induction into the Hall of Fame. After all, America has time and again shown its propensity to forgive formerly beloved athletes and entertainers that, humans as they are, have committed mistakes and provided mea culpas (sometimes honest; sometimes induced by PR machinations). And, if McGwire’s steroid consumption chronology is to be believed, some of his best seasons prior to the beginning of the Steroid Era—circa 1993-94, came in years when he was clean: his 1987 record-breaking rookie season (49 dingers) and his 42 HRs back in 1992.
Moreover, considering that if one were to apply a “steroid premium” deduction to his numbers (say, a hefty 20%), he would have still attained the 50 homer plateau—twice! The fact is, Major League Baseball obligingly turned a blind eye to steroid consumption after the loss of public goodwill that succeeded the regrettable 1994 strike, resulting in an era where these substances were not officially banned, allowing for inflated offensive numbers where cheating became part of the clubhouse culture and, as such, implicitly condoned.
That does not excuse McGwire’s (and many others’) dubious behavior, but it’s only against this background that he and his fellow offenders must be judged. And in the end, history is likely to recognize that his on-field accomplishments, however illicitly aided they might have been, were otherworldly enough to warrant recognition alongside the pantheon of all-time greats that reside in Cooperstown.
After countless allegations since his “vote of silence” pertaining to steroid usage in a series of Congressional hearings 5 years ago, Big Mac’s public image had taken a beating, as evidenced not only by his own isolation from the public eye, but by his repeated shunning by Cooperstown voters. As he prepares to initiate a new phase in his baseball career as hitting coach of his former team, the Saint Louis Cardinals, alongside his mentor, friend and staunch supporter, Tony La Russa, hopefully this (overly delayed) apology will bring some closure to the shroud of controversy and public outcry that has surrounded his persona for the better part of this recently concluded decade.
And, perhaps, this act of contrition may help pave the way to refurbishing his image and, just maybe, even allow for his eventual induction into the Hall of Fame. After all, America has time and again shown its propensity to forgive formerly beloved athletes and entertainers that, humans as they are, have committed mistakes and provided mea culpas (sometimes honest; sometimes induced by PR machinations). And, if McGwire’s steroid consumption chronology is to be believed, some of his best seasons prior to the beginning of the Steroid Era—circa 1993-94, came in years when he was clean: his 1987 record-breaking rookie season (49 dingers) and his 42 HRs back in 1992.
Moreover, considering that if one were to apply a “steroid premium” deduction to his numbers (say, a hefty 20%), he would have still attained the 50 homer plateau—twice! The fact is, Major League Baseball obligingly turned a blind eye to steroid consumption after the loss of public goodwill that succeeded the regrettable 1994 strike, resulting in an era where these substances were not officially banned, allowing for inflated offensive numbers where cheating became part of the clubhouse culture and, as such, implicitly condoned.
That does not excuse McGwire’s (and many others’) dubious behavior, but it’s only against this background that he and his fellow offenders must be judged. And in the end, history is likely to recognize that his on-field accomplishments, however illicitly aided they might have been, were otherworldly enough to warrant recognition alongside the pantheon of all-time greats that reside in Cooperstown.
Double Feature: Yoda/Spidey + Yoda/Rose Dawson
Someplace in swampy Dagobah, the phone rings:
Yoda: 1-800-dildooine. Yoda, this is.
Spidey: Master Yoda, will I ever get laid with MJ?
Yoda: Hard to see, the will of the Force is.
Spidey: But could you help me out? Use your Jedi mind tricks on her, perhaps?
Yoda: Only on the weak-minded, they work.
::Hannah Montana: Hey, I resent that! ::
Spidey: Master Yoda, did you just shag Hannah Montana?!?
Yoda: Showed her the power of the Force, I did.
Spidey: You Lolita-loving dirty green muppet! Anyhoo, will you help me?
Yoda: Solve your problem I will, if Viagra you provide me.
Spidey: WTF! Do you use Viagra?!?
Yoda: When 900 years you are, wield your lightsaber as well, you won't.
Spidey: Oh my God. Listening to this is worse than fighting Doc Ock. I'm gone.
Yoda: May the Force be with you.
Painting Lessons
Rose: Master Yoda Vinci, do I really need to take my clothes off?
Yoda: A gentleman, I am. Help you, I will.
::Waves hand, clothes fall off::
Rose: Master Yoda Vinci, you're blushing. I doubt Monsieur Kenobi would have blushed.
Yoda: From the gay side of the Force, he is.
::Camera flash goes off::
Rose: Did you just take my picture naked? Weren't you supposed to paint my portrait?!?
Yoda: Portraits do not make one great. Wank off to your pic, I will. Farewell, mon coeur de la mer.
::Waves non-wanking hand, Rose's ship sinks::
Yoda: 1-800-dildooine. Yoda, this is.
Spidey: Master Yoda, will I ever get laid with MJ?
Yoda: Hard to see, the will of the Force is.
Spidey: But could you help me out? Use your Jedi mind tricks on her, perhaps?
Yoda: Only on the weak-minded, they work.
::Hannah Montana: Hey, I resent that! ::
Spidey: Master Yoda, did you just shag Hannah Montana?!?
Yoda: Showed her the power of the Force, I did.
Spidey: You Lolita-loving dirty green muppet! Anyhoo, will you help me?
Yoda: Solve your problem I will, if Viagra you provide me.
Spidey: WTF! Do you use Viagra?!?
Yoda: When 900 years you are, wield your lightsaber as well, you won't.
Spidey: Oh my God. Listening to this is worse than fighting Doc Ock. I'm gone.
Yoda: May the Force be with you.
Painting Lessons
Rose: Master Yoda Vinci, do I really need to take my clothes off?
Yoda: A gentleman, I am. Help you, I will.
::Waves hand, clothes fall off::
Rose: Master Yoda Vinci, you're blushing. I doubt Monsieur Kenobi would have blushed.
Yoda: From the gay side of the Force, he is.
::Camera flash goes off::
Rose: Did you just take my picture naked? Weren't you supposed to paint my portrait?!?
Yoda: Portraits do not make one great. Wank off to your pic, I will. Farewell, mon coeur de la mer.
::Waves non-wanking hand, Rose's ship sinks::
Excelsior, Sydney!
September 17, 2000: Opening Ceremony (Olympic Games)
What a finale for the opening ceremony of the Olympics, what an amazing spectacle! Magnificent! Awe inspiring! Humanity exalted!
The final image with the flame burning magnificently above the stadium shall remain impregnated in my consciousness forever, its indelible and inspirational message inextricably intertwined with my existence. Here is the way I interpreted the symbolism immersed in that momentous image:
A kaleidoscopic runway into the heavens, a spaceship carrying the torch of goodwill ready to depart our planet; its mission: to irrigate the cosmos with humanity's message of togetherness and fraternity...
Of course that’s a romantic idealization of our nature and our humble place in the grand, universal, scheme of things, but, for a brief instant, I held that image in my mind as if it were a reality and not a fictitious illusion.
Yes, it is only an illusion, an oasis of hope deeply buried among humanity's obvious deficiencies, but it’s a glimpse into a plausible, hopefully not to distant future, where humans have learned to live peacefully not only among themselves but among our close neighbors in space and beyond...
What a finale for the opening ceremony of the Olympics, what an amazing spectacle! Magnificent! Awe inspiring! Humanity exalted!
The final image with the flame burning magnificently above the stadium shall remain impregnated in my consciousness forever, its indelible and inspirational message inextricably intertwined with my existence. Here is the way I interpreted the symbolism immersed in that momentous image:
A kaleidoscopic runway into the heavens, a spaceship carrying the torch of goodwill ready to depart our planet; its mission: to irrigate the cosmos with humanity's message of togetherness and fraternity...
Of course that’s a romantic idealization of our nature and our humble place in the grand, universal, scheme of things, but, for a brief instant, I held that image in my mind as if it were a reality and not a fictitious illusion.
Yes, it is only an illusion, an oasis of hope deeply buried among humanity's obvious deficiencies, but it’s a glimpse into a plausible, hopefully not to distant future, where humans have learned to live peacefully not only among themselves but among our close neighbors in space and beyond...
jueves, 11 de febrero de 2010
Noah's Ark...in Space!
If I wanted to safely preserve every species included in the biological spectrum of life confined to reside in this blue oasis in space, I would like, built this huge self-sufficient, fusion reactor powered ark, and then like put a pair of every species inside so they could like reproduce and stuff. Then we construct a huge rocket to carry the ark into space, put the ark in the cargo bay and ZUM! Off to space it goes.
Once in orbit, it deploys the ark in geo-stationary orbit. We could even put in instruments to measure the effects of low gravity on animals. And why stop there? We could throw in some Discovery channel tapes of animals getting laid in the wild (animal porn). This way we can study sex in space, I mean, what can be more important than understanding how a horny elephant manages to impregnate his fat-ass partner in a zero gravity environment?
Imaging for a moment the sheer excitement of watching a pair of roaches hitting it off whit Also Sprach Zarathustra playing on the background? Can you possibly fathom the imposing image of a lion masturbating in space, all the tiny spermatozoids floating together like ballerinas in a perfectly choreographed vision of grandeur? How about a menage a trois of copulating rhinos? Furthermore, we could even get them dildos, vibrators and other sex toys. Boy, it just keeps getting more interesting by the minute!
I bet the networks would kill for the rights to broadcast the event live from the ark. They could even install a pussy-cam to get a close-up of the penetrating motion and fluid deployment extravaganza. Jerry Springer and Howard Stern could do the play by play with commentaries by Dr. Ruth. I mean, the ratings would go off the charts; forget about reality shows like Survivor, animal sex in space is the way to go!
But, most important of all, the animals would be safe, protected from the evil wrath of man, separated from their greatest nemesis by 35900 km of thin air. Even better, we could go on animal killing spree back here on earth since there would be no risk of animal extinction whatsoever. Heck, we can even kill the animals preserved in the zoos. Those bastards, sitting there all day doing nothing except for wasting us taxpayers good money. Grrr!
Evidently, a new legislation will be developed outlawing animal hunting in space. As a matter of fact, we could camouflage an antimissile defense system inside the ark and nobody would suspect a thing since it is an ecological preserve, right? What sick mind would suspect of us Americans using animals as a decoy to deploy a nuclear treaty violating defense system. I wonder why no one had ever thought of it before. We could even call it Star Wars. Now, that would be really cool, literally out of this world.
Now, as to the name for the ark, a few choices come to mind: Biosphere-3, Space PANDAmonium and Laika's Orbiting Playhouse, to name a few.
Pd. This is a serious proposal currently under study by Congress. Some relevant contents such as the aerodynamically designed toilets, fart containing system, animal droppings compactor, pheromone ventilator, spermatozoid collider and cryogenic camera for polar bear preservation have been omitted due to their obvious national security implications.
Once in orbit, it deploys the ark in geo-stationary orbit. We could even put in instruments to measure the effects of low gravity on animals. And why stop there? We could throw in some Discovery channel tapes of animals getting laid in the wild (animal porn). This way we can study sex in space, I mean, what can be more important than understanding how a horny elephant manages to impregnate his fat-ass partner in a zero gravity environment?
Imaging for a moment the sheer excitement of watching a pair of roaches hitting it off whit Also Sprach Zarathustra playing on the background? Can you possibly fathom the imposing image of a lion masturbating in space, all the tiny spermatozoids floating together like ballerinas in a perfectly choreographed vision of grandeur? How about a menage a trois of copulating rhinos? Furthermore, we could even get them dildos, vibrators and other sex toys. Boy, it just keeps getting more interesting by the minute!
I bet the networks would kill for the rights to broadcast the event live from the ark. They could even install a pussy-cam to get a close-up of the penetrating motion and fluid deployment extravaganza. Jerry Springer and Howard Stern could do the play by play with commentaries by Dr. Ruth. I mean, the ratings would go off the charts; forget about reality shows like Survivor, animal sex in space is the way to go!
But, most important of all, the animals would be safe, protected from the evil wrath of man, separated from their greatest nemesis by 35900 km of thin air. Even better, we could go on animal killing spree back here on earth since there would be no risk of animal extinction whatsoever. Heck, we can even kill the animals preserved in the zoos. Those bastards, sitting there all day doing nothing except for wasting us taxpayers good money. Grrr!
Evidently, a new legislation will be developed outlawing animal hunting in space. As a matter of fact, we could camouflage an antimissile defense system inside the ark and nobody would suspect a thing since it is an ecological preserve, right? What sick mind would suspect of us Americans using animals as a decoy to deploy a nuclear treaty violating defense system. I wonder why no one had ever thought of it before. We could even call it Star Wars. Now, that would be really cool, literally out of this world.
Now, as to the name for the ark, a few choices come to mind: Biosphere-3, Space PANDAmonium and Laika's Orbiting Playhouse, to name a few.
Pd. This is a serious proposal currently under study by Congress. Some relevant contents such as the aerodynamically designed toilets, fart containing system, animal droppings compactor, pheromone ventilator, spermatozoid collider and cryogenic camera for polar bear preservation have been omitted due to their obvious national security implications.
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