Friday, December 12, 2025

Robot Carnival

In a post-apocalyptic world, bewildered communities survive subsistently, gettin' 'er done anyway they know how, the survivors of technological armageddon. 

In a mad intensely uncanny contrast a giant vehicle crosses the land, like a moving city complete with robots putting on a show as they pass by.

The show compels as it immerses spectators in clever anime vignettes, romantic and humorous and terrifying and awkward a diverse spectrum of narrative fiction. 

Young romance in flummoxed variability soaring and cresting as it flows, boldly attempting to balance their emotions with civic duty and familial bearings.

The clouds sweetly billow and transform as laidback reckoning elusively matriculates, the shapeshifting cardiac lithe admixtures frothing and foaming throughout the sky. 

Frankensynoptical reanimation electronic Lazurinthine glib ambition, nonchalant nurture necessitous invention the cold weary resourceful meaningful strife. 

Age old conflicting absolutist loci the cruel haughty ruler the rebellious upstart, lost in battle interminable lexicon lesions loquacious latitude linger. 

Lifelong longing idyllic identities carnival construct latent obsession, pasteurized pygmalion novel Narcissus the great wide open into the light. 

19th century Jaegers powered with batteries paving the way for macroscopic mischief, why hellbent on flamboyant destruction when there's still so much life left to live?

Robotic revelry animate hatchlings conscious constituent microchip cadre, throughout the city inaccessible recess fluid frenetic feverish fastening. 

A less encapsulating monumental magnum a humble toy robot dazzles young children, their father happy to have shared the sensation with the modest intent to cultivate wonder.

They never let their robots get out of hand, the apocalyptic scenario never arose.

Just modest life and creative expenditure.

Family and friends.

Holiday Seasons. 

Thursday, December 11, 2025

Becoming Santa

Santa, always keen to diversify the phantasmagorical features of his origins, finds himself offering another alternative depiction of North Pole life, which boldly suggests he will one day retire once his daughter finds a suitable mate, at which point he'll kick back and ball, in this cute and cuddly romantic comedy.

Many traditional components of Santa's existence are still disseminated, the casual legend of the magnanimous hombre who shares gifts and toys on Christmas Day.

Elves still adorn his workshop with diligent industrious intricate moxy, their resourceful knowhow having exhaustively expanded to crucially create electronic devices.

The reindeer are still a' flourishin' in a giant barn with tales to tell, Rudolph disappearing for most of the year before sleekly showing up on Christmas Eve.

Yet there's a time limit on Santa's tenure and his daughter has found a reliable substitute, who lives and breathes Christmas 24/7, and is humble and jolly and chill and self-sacrificing. 

He doesn't know she's the daughter of the most gifted toymaker in the land however, and awkwardly stumbles into the folklore with eager surprise and determined shock. 

Suddenly learning that he'll indeed become the heralded Claus oft referred to as Nicolas, he gingerly excels at lauded merrymaking, while his rival suitor fills him with dread.

Nonetheless, the film's kind and understanding and emphasizes training and trial and error, natural doubts and inherent discountenance audaciously blended with comprehensive resolve. 

It's not something to master instantaneously it takes time and patience to learn, possessing a spirit which emanates mirth no doubt a prerequisite hearty in bloom. 

Thus even Santa, like many mortals, one day found himself tasked with vision, and dug in deep and got 'er done after many mistakes initially squeezed him.

Fortunately, the zone was compassionate and exceedingly filled with chance and roll call. 

As fair and encouraging as it was indefinite. 

The Holiday Season. 

Effervescently flumed. 

Wednesday, December 10, 2025

The Good Dinosaur

The adventure quest, out on your own, suddenly dealin' with inherent chaos, the wilderness hostile, your family long gone, evergreen boughs, improvised discipline. 

A young dinosaur falls into a river and is wildly washed away downstream, achingly awaking the next dismal morning to find his lonely self in a far distant land.

He isn't blessed with survival skills and is wholeheartedly fearful of everyone he meets, habitually shy and awkwardly candid he haphazardly strives on down the line.

Fortunately, a young "critter" whom his father tried to get him to kill, efficaciously rewards him for letting him go and industriously comes to his nimble aid.

Intuitively timorous, the young dinosaur recoils, but as time passes finds himself more at ease, life-threatening encounters consistently emerging which encourage growth and hearty mettle. 

With intermittent intervals of mischief and play, the adventure takes on open-hearted multiplicities. 

Debonair reflexes in bloom. 

On the trek through nebulous lands. 

Treeplanting was probably the closest thing I ever did to something like this, it was brutal and harsh and difficult a substantial challenge to be confronted. 

I planted around 75 trees on my first day and made around $7.00, and since it cost $25 to stay in camp (the food was bountiful and amazing), I was functioning with a serious deficit. 

I had spent $800 on gear and had to pay that off as well, and it rained every day for the first week, and after that the bugs were totalitarian. 

Thus, it was either do nothing, make no money, and sit around getting soaked or eaten by bugs, or learn how to do it and make some cash and return home with money for the winter.

I therefore worked while it was raining and resiliently defied the legions of mosquitoes, and planted 1,007 trees on my 6th day, hitting 3,000 4 or 5 weeks later.

I was 140 pounds forever before that spring but I ate so much I've never gone below 160 since.

Treeplantings like the army for environmentalists.

So many insane days. 

And cool animal encounters. 

*You can make a ton of money if you work hard. It's crazy tough though.

Tuesday, December 9, 2025

Jiang Ziya

The realm of the demon scurrilously oppresses the unsuspecting people with wicked cunning, until the gods take fluent cardigan mercy and affably supply a kind-hearted champion.

The foes clash and battle and destroy until beauty and wonder fade from the Earth, and all that's left are wanton reflexes bombastically seeking mortal ruin.

Eventually, the fighting stops and the kind-hearted warrior is tasked once again, to see if he is ready to rule the gods with bold decision and incarnate reckoning. 

Banished to a frozen wasteland with many others whom he once fought, he can't sit still and humbly contemplate while tempting questions lithely fluster.

He sets out in search of answers sympathetically unable to obey commands, the compelling drive to aid his new friend in resolute question upheld unbidden.

Yet a higher level of executive functioning officiously scrutinizes his acts meanwhile. 

Attempting to cataclysmically transform.

Kind-hearted reason into absolutist sufferance. 

Does leadership command the unprincipled devotion of warlike jaded contradictory cynicism, or do compassionate alternatives modestly contend with thoughtful levity and playful understanding?

The bellicose leader will no doubt attempt to sincerely seem laidback and humorous, while the decent individual will at times employ strength and discipline to get things done.

But at the end of the day the kind-hearted leader facilitates consistency and open-minded trust (Augustus Caesar/Claudius), while the self-obsessed demagogue extracts envy from decay in a constantly shifting foundationless masquerade (Tiberius/Caligula). 

If you study your nation's leadership going back for hundreds of years, if democratically affiliated, you'll find multivariability. 

Thus Clement Attlee defeated Winston Churchill - how did that happen? - in 1945.

And Biden defeated Trump.

Only to be thrown under the bus for his troubles. 

Monday, December 8, 2025

It's like we're moving from a culture where we used to discover different things we never knew we were looking for, to one where everything's locked down in labyrinthine algorithms. 

Zdyscyplinowana siła. Wyczerpująca animacja. Ukraińskie przyspieszenie.

Sunday, December 7, 2025

Bo Nix has never lost to the Las Vegas Raiders.

Broncos! 🏈

Disciplined fortitude. Exhaustive animation. Ukrainian acceleration. 

Saturday, December 6, 2025

Zumbalambadagobalma

Blizzardenvironmarmalade ⛄
snowstorakultelebébés 🏂
snowfortitubulark-alcove ❆
Ivanichezsartorribald 🧵

ringwaldankanopewheaties 🐦
bucoladeda'llamaquis 🦙
delephantasiam-I-am 🐘
blick-baseliechtenskylarken 🎸

alankeystohmaverickshaw 🛺
saint'übernardarlingersoll 🐶
envelvetantaloeuvrecolt 📨
barnyardstriclark-kentitervault 🏈

pollsterviacomlinkelvin 🧝
kringlidyllvistarkmidmarchmen 🎅
beeclause-sanitateam-serene 🐝
nickelticoalavendream 😴

sunbeamstairwavonlittergnome. 🌞

Friday, December 5, 2025

The Living Daylights

The Cold War once saw fierce international antagonists, cautious regarding thermonuclear war, but still aggressively advancing opposing ideologies. 

Both sides demanded zealous loyalty from civilians, professionals, and soldiers, and should you even joke about defection grand bureaucratic impositions would immobilize you.

Seeking international fluidity a Soviet informant risks defection in The Living Daylights, the British Government open to emancipatory accommodation should he share with them compelling intel.

An elaborate plan is put into place and the tenacious traitor finds his ticket West, ebulliently awaking in celebratory high spirits in a theoretically safe house in the United Kingdom. 

Yet the Soviets condemn the treachery and swiftly come calling for the disloyal comrade, boldly snatching the foolish hamstring from right under MI6's smug noses.

But was it the Soviets who destructively acquired him or is someone else playing an even riskier game?

Duping intelligence agents around the world.

With the audacious hopes of selling contraband.

I always thought Timothy Dalton was given a raw deal with the James Bond franchise, I rather liked The Living Daylights and find it a thrilling engaging spy film.

It would have been tough to overcome the impression held amongst the public at the transitionary time, that Pierce Brosnan would make a great Bond after his performance in Remington Steele. 

Still, don't let the outcome cause you to overlook The Living Daylights, it's a hidden gem that's easy to dismiss since it obscurely contends between auspicious giants (saw it in Prince Edward Island). 

In a lot of Bond films you quickly discover what the terrorist agents are up to for instance, but The Living Daylights keeps you guessing with fast paced reversals and indelicate election.

In contemporary times, it's been 4 years without a Bond film that's a sacrifice of at least a figurative billion, doesn't the franchise make hundreds of millions every two to three years and if they don't release a film haven't they awkwardly eclipsed themselves?

Ah well, a new film is to be released but not till 2028 states Google. 

Cool to see Denis Villeneuve directing. 

Hopefully he also gets the next Star Wars franchise.

Thursday, December 4, 2025

Miracle on 34th Street

It often seems like the jaded objective concrete materialistic obsession, is a feature of contemporary times which didn't exist in bygone days. 

The lack of spiritual enlightenment often attributed to common sense, seems like it wouldn't have existed long ago when cultures were more fantastically grounded. 

But if 1947 is the time marker which correspondingly took place 78 years ago, the agile contention that the present is less imaginative loses momentum in Miracle on 34th Street. 

For within its festive reels we find compulsive dismissals of the Holiday Spirit, and exacting rituals tempestuously inclined to rid its culture of compelling levity. 

Does the indefatigable spiritual not viscerally sustain scientific experiment, through the steady encouragement of alternative endeavours that strategic reasoning would have never conceived on its own?

Does the existence of incorporeal ethereal intangible dynamic being, not facilitate unorthodox thinking that leads to new developments in scientific theory?

We find stale and overwrought examples of traditional skeptical and cynical thought, dismissing the essence of Christmas with contemptuous vitriol in 34th Street.

Even as the remarkable benefits of harmless play lead to exceptional results, bitter acrimonious characters still crudely objurgate Santa's existence. 

Even as he exhaustively displays a meticulous knowledge of toys and where to find them, while speaking different languages with intricate foresight and linguistic flexibility, he's still excessively critiqued by agnostic stipulations from a roundabout age, and even thrown in a mental institution for boldly defending lighthearted humour. 

Should spiritual folk condemn the scientists to an improvised world of non-traditional reckoning, or should psychiatry and reason clerically expel all otherworldly thoughts from cultivated continuums? 

Does a grounded focus on reason and science not lay the framework for reliable consistency, while alternative arrangements cosmically endowed exalt sleigh bell sensations in ceremonious flight?

Does the fortuitous blend not effortlessly synthesize yin and yang with reflexive sanity?

That brings about open-minded efficiencies? 

Magic and moonbeams.

Hot cocoa. 

Gingerbread. 

Wednesday, December 3, 2025

Turumba

A traditional family nestled in the Philippines makes its living selling toys, lively animals made from paper mâché earn them a modest yet ample living.

The father is the village "Cantor" and leads a procession at the Turumba Festival, a local honour cherished and respected throughout the peaceful laidback countryside.

His family sells its toys at that same festival where it makes enough to live on throughout the year, their creations sought after viscerally due to the lifelike detail of their composition. 

Indeed Grandma oversees each toy's production and never withholds her well-meaning criticism, should her grandchildren employ less vigorous industry in the application of their art.

Time honoured modes of intricate manufacture collide with postmodern demands, however, when amazed toy sellers from a foreign land effectively hire them to thrive in abundance. 

Production vastly increases and soon many people from the village are hired, from 500 to 25,000 delicate toys definitively made with burgeoning expertise. 

But something's lost through the sudden transition and even though much more money's being made, free time to converse and relax or hike and explore fades into the disciplined background.

No doubt tempting to elaborately excel in lucrative crafty business endeavours, and to readily supply sought after local jobs with robust impacts and substantial reckoning.

The manufacture of their toys does little harm to the local environment, and therefore doesn't recklessly pollute the mountainous terrain they freely call home.

Free time to spend spiritually enriched with emphatic energy in the pursuit of life, can lead to a less stressful existence as the years pass with zest however.

There's a sense of pride and comprehensive achievement in the maintenance of fluid enterprise, but is the impoverished machete man not also rich with coveted free time to spend in the jungle?

As the Holiday Season swiftly approaches and the inherent glitter dazzlingly tantalizes, it's encompassingly intriguing to efficiently work and secure sufficient funds to commercially accommodate. 

But without the spiritual eagerness those emancipated hours resting with family and friends, does the season not lose some of its limitless value in the stoic determination to ceaselessly labour?

Different answers to different people but chillin' time is certainly important.

It's also cool to have lots of cash. 

The age old dialectic.

Acutely manifest. 

Tuesday, December 2, 2025

The Blob

A quiet night in the peaceful countryside picturesque and romantic, delicate and adoring, a young couple familiarizes itself with the night sky through active stargazing and vigilant discernment.

When a gigantic meteor from deep within space suddenly lands nonchalantly nearby, a local woodsman out for a stroll in the vicinity taking a closer look.

At first everything seems fine it's just a rock harmless and nondescript, but after it cracks open a translucent goo gesticulates and wavers with distressing undulation. 

The woodsman picks it up with a stick and then brings it to his hand for closer inspection, where it smothers his skin and absorbs his bones with greedy invasive absolutist hunger.

The young couple arrives to find him overwhelmed with pain and helpless frustration, they immediately agree to give him a ride to a local doctor who agrees to see him.

Back in town everything seems fine shenanigans alight - a dull even intensifies.

As the encumbering goo increasingly expands.

Aggressively digesting.

Every human it encounters.

It's clear that imminent space danger is posing a limitless unprecedented threat, and the grandiose resources of the entire world should be excessively deployed as a countermeasure. 

A giant interconnected web of satellites should gallantly cloak the world complete, to boldly save our economic interests and definitively ensure that nothing gets through.

If North America, in consultation with the United Nations, comes up with the imposing ubiquitous design, aesthetically vetted by Québec, and humorously lampooned by Ontario, the effective blueprints should be ready in a fortnight, after which security will be impeccable. 

Threats from space should only modestly take up around 3.5% of global budgets, and should we hunker down and buckle up there's no freakin' tellin' how much "ground" we'll cover.

I used to think the night sky was just a peaceful tranquil dome, effortlessly excelling at facilitating dreams and coordinating wise immaculate dominion.

But with the tangible threat of the enemy it casually obscures it must be tamed.

Like the frontier from The Last Starfighter.

Let's get 'er done!

Just in time for Christmas.

Monday, December 1, 2025

Broncos! 🏈

If the battery recycling company is stickin' it to the Restore, how are people ever going to take on Trump?

Bezdohanna virtuoznisť. Oboronni ambitsiyi. Ukrayins'ki boyeprypasy. 

Sunday, November 30, 2025

Does the human factor guarantee that AI will never take over, if it's reliant on humans for its maintenance, and they'd rather be watching football or eating out downtown?

Upåklagelig virtuositet. Defensive ambisjon. Ukrainsk ammunisjon. 

Saturday, November 29, 2025

Cigarmad'île'octogala

Microkombrushstrekoal 🐨
alightenginkolbabardrawl 🐘
evelveterraindroptickle ⛆
crowbilbonoboatswinterval ⛄

uglandublinkreosoda 🔥
pepsequinmedecymbala 🥁
gogongshow-de-duveggeezwhiz 🥕
fromagyrobodenumbrage 🧀

valizarcophagglistemple 🦎
iguananazarenatal 🍍
geckovinegrotterdampule 🦦
komojohorton-hears-a-hoot 🦉

bambootclamplighturgiddesign 🐼
nutellatubularvermine 🐁
jelloquacondensemangamint 
grenobelisk sublimerinch 

valensignaturnpicturtle. 🐢

Friday, November 28, 2025

Big Trouble in Little China

Ageless limitless magical constellations symphonically scintillating voltaic vibes, unleashed sorcery conjured warlockdown inherent conflict improvised strategy.

Delivery scheduled, an outspoken trucker makes his way across North America, treating those listening to random outbursts of concrete wisdom and tough-talking jive.

Exoterically sermonizing on diverse subjects with bold declarations and happenstance harkening, he makes his way to San Francisco where he joins some friends in a night of gambling.

It's a special day for his closest bro since his innocent betrothed is arriving from China, whom he needs to meet at the nearby airport later that morning without further delay.

They make their way to the arrival zone but aren't the only ones awaiting her presence, a troubling group of angry ne'er-do-wells hoping to swiftly steal her away.

They succeed and bring her to Chinatown where she's recruited by a local business.

Avidly sought after by our heroes.

Who courageously seek bold conjugal virtue. 

Big Trouble in Little China is a hardboiled cult classic from a different age, when special effects were becoming less hokey and everyday people where cinematically kind.

We therefore find a compelling example of laidback wit and charming candour, making quick decisions with inspiring bravery even if he lacks esoteric wherewithal. 

It's the kind of campy industrious fortitude classically interwoven into action-packed chaos, that strikes an eternal bedlambience which constructively nurtures wilderness whimsy. 

If the filmmakers involved hadn't sincerely given 'er with monumental gusto the results may have been less memorable. 

John Carpenter habitually excels at encouraging strong performances. 

With exceptional line after exceptional line.

Unabashed and confident.

On down the road. 

Thursday, November 27, 2025

The Garfield Movie

Ye olde Garfield comically elucidates the decadent steps to satiation, going above and beyond modest humble take out to supply himself with everything on the menu.

His habitual endearing shenanigans see the traditional maintenance of gormandized excess, his enabling kind-hearted oblivious owner freely facilitating ambitious plans. 

Nevertheless, he accidentally finds himself in trouble one dismal and lonesome day, when none other than his legitimate father comes to his daring rescue with ferocious courage.

Garfield and his father are estranged the younger holding an ironclad grudge, blaming dear old dad for abandoning him as a child to a cold and isolated subsistence lifestyle.

His father tries to explain but Garfield ain't a' listenin' to what he has to say, their reunion made even more awkward when an angry nemesis suddenly outwits them. 

They're tasked with stealing thousands of quarts of milk from a local dairy known for its security.

The only one who can aid their struggle.

A resigned bull jaded and lovelorn.

Garfield was huge in my youth he had just come out and was quite the sensation, I still have the first dozen or so books with treasury compilations and holiday specials. 

Did he encourage other lazy underachieving characters like Bart Simpson or Peter Griffin, I can't determine if there's a direct link but similar viewpoints widely circulate? 

I was surprised to see Garfield off his game in this incarnation he's fraught with error, indeed he's the overconfident dismissive fool who unintentionally disrupts their meticulous strategy.

I remember him succeeding unilaterally in the '80s and often encountering self-aggrandizing serendipity, I wasn't sure if I had just forgotten his occasional misfortunes or if the comic had become less mischievous in recent decades.

I fondly remembered ordering take out pizza with tasty breadsticks and lasagna dishes, as I watched Garfield devour legions of cheesy mouthfuls indelicately unconcerned with weight or diet.

The boundless enthusiastic unaffected gains of fictional characters. 

With a bit of editing, effortlessly blooms.

Garfield at Large, posthaste ad infinitum. 

Wednesday, November 26, 2025

Voyage to the End of the Universe

A multifaceted communal space vessel patiently travels throughout the universe, destined to land on Alpha Centauri with the hopes of encountering alien life.

They harmoniously deal with the consistent boredom and stoically embrace their interminable routine, remaining awake for most of the journey instead of simply sleeping in cryo chambers. 

With 40 crew members the potential for multiple different conversations and interactive alternatives, leaves many contented and active enough to overcome haunting claustrophobic anxieties. 

They exist hundreds of years in the future where free thinking minds have championed peace, and as they smoothly accelerate through different solar systems they meet phenomena unknown yet familiar.

An old spaceship from Earth in fact which was wildly occupied by thrill seeking gamblers, which wasn't ready for the journey to deep space and slowly succumbed to murderous sickness.

An unforeseen deadly dark star adamantly blocks their progress as well.

Its radiation causing the entire crew to slumber.

Adventurers frightened they'll never wake up. 

Not often you see celebrated commie cinema from the vilified Eastern Bloc no less, with its lucid focus on communal life and general commitment to studious exploration. 

It's pioneering sci-fi a cut above what I've seen so far from that distant time (the 1960s), its elaborate sets and reasonable schematics not as antiquated as some older movies.

The introduction of the "capitalist" spacecraft with its reckless gambling and weapons of mass destruction, makes a clever differentiation from the less volatile communists who sought newfound knowledge and peaceful integration (in the movies). 

It would be exciting to head into space on a miraculous ship destined for unknown galaxies, but the small town nature of its restrictive boundaries may have driven me crazy as time went by.

With no nature walks or animal sightings it would be like winter all the time, difficult to generate the same robust enthusiasm when there's little hope of extracurricular excursions. 

But if you could consistently descend to uncharted planets that would totally be motivating, and go for walks through rugged bush never before encountered while searching for food.

Star Trek does make spacelife sound fascinating if don't face destruction every episode. 

It would still be distressingly confined though.

Unlike the metropolitan island. 

Tuesday, November 25, 2025

The Butterfly Murders

After a period of great destruction, peace settles in Ancient China, the various factions and sects and clans tired of the senseless and brutal killing.

But unease remains in the troubled aftermath as simply getting along with one another requires effort, and extant tensions and widespread jealousies bitterly encourage internecine melodrama. 

Around this time, feverish and brittle, a tale of insects revolting circulates, indeed the emergence of killer butterflies outrageously terrifies the superstitious. 

A castle lies uninhabited except for the resident lord and lady and their maid, who, to avoid the slaughter of the butterflies, have taken to hiding underground.

Sternly visited by the upright leader of a different clan they lithely accommodate, yet mysteries abound delicately within the sombre lair frenzies notwithstanding. 

The legendary thunders are ceremoniously summoned after the strange death of the distant ruler, to see how he divided up his kingdom in stalwart deluge and unbecoming gore.

Their unique gifts are not enough to overcome the misguidance however. 

As unrest strikes and chaos descends.

With ruthless wingéd covetous metamorphosis. 

I haven't seen many old school martial arts films with a sinister focus on honour and treachery, I've never even seen Bruce Lee's films, it's a puzzling shortcoming I need to work on.

The Butterfly Murders, if indicative of a scheme, introduces a fast-paced in-depth action thriller, inherently necessitating suspicion and attention as it wildly indoctrinates incessant lesion.

Calculated mistrust and bewitching loyalties formally clash with inquisitive stewardship, unsettling murders and inarticulate chrysalids defiantly imploding sanctimonious stealth. 

An intricate script intriguingly accentuated with robust character and nondescript collusion, thrown together with ecstatic haste which at times leads to opaque delineations. 

I classically misunderstood the title and thought that butterflies (or transformative individuals) were being murdered, and although the latter does comes to pass, I was still surprised to find butterfly killers.

With such asymmetrical flight paths how could they ever be dispatched?

Similar to bats in flight.

Imbroglio misgivings.

Rigamaroller coaster. 

Monday, November 24, 2025

Sometimes reverent people doubt your devotion, and because their feelings run deep, they can be a huge pain.  

Onberispelijke virtuositeit. Defensieve ambitie. Oekraïense munitie.