Guac salsa.

I could totally go, for a veggie lasagna burger. 

Slaw

Asymmetric undeflected

staggered shifts airwaves inspected

focal frisky fervid flights

infatuate recall requite

alight dispatches shades hypnotic

riffed spilt-second probiotic 

micromovement carefree cherished

cosmological awareness

ruffled radiating rash

computed aeronautic paths

the deke the juke extravastanza

multivaried gridiron grandpa

swerving juxtaposed arisen

seemingly composed undriven

note the ease the acclimation

heralded through vaccination

mosey.

Doug's 1st Movie

Daydreaming can be a trusty friend if it doesn't interfere with material necessities, at least I've found that healthy daydreams consistently revitalize inanimate life.

Not to be taken too seriously yet not to be dismissed offhand either, the careful maintenance of lively imagination is a helpful tool for countering malaise. 

Doug's 1st Movie captures this potentiality with active assertion and cerebral levity, as Doug's (Thomas McHugh) prosperous lighthearted daydreaming productively blends highest hopes with bewilderment.

He's faced with a daunting challenge after a pesky lake monster befriends him, and he discovers that local waters have been overwhelmingly polluted.

With the help of his trusty friend Skeeter (Fred Newman), they alert the local authorities, but the principal culprit owns most the town, and heavily influences trusted news outlets.

It's strange how polluters spend so much money advertising that they're environmentally friendly, a comparison between oil sands documentaries and industry ads providing an example of bleak disparity.

In Doug's 1st Movie a legion of well-heeled minions rivalling Sejanus's network of spies, is instantaneously and elaborately employed once the threat to Mr. Bluff's (Doug Preis) business is detected.

But rather than spending so much to conceal a reality that pejoratively effects the health of the town, why didn't he spend a commensurate amount of casholla actually cleaning up the polluted lake?

I suppose it's ideological, it's the belief that pollution isn't harmful, and the exponential generation of profits sacrosanct, devoutly tilled and strangely upheld.

Thus, a portion of the operating budget (or some budget or other) is spent casting a rosy image of disastrous environmental effects, to uphold an ideological perspective that equates health with profit generation.

I don't want to see people out of work, I'm in favour of patiently making industry as green as possible without job losses, I'm certainly not ideologically opposed to industry and the ways in which it sustains the livelihoods of so many.

But spending so much to suggest industry has no serious environmental effects, when that money could be alternatively used to mitigate them, doesn't make much sense to me, and many many others.

Fortunately, Doug's also prone to daydreaming which keeps his mind active and imaginatively composed, giving him the strategic hypothetical wherewithal to keep his new monster friend hidden for quite some time.

A surprisingly relevant take on sociopolitical relations, this Doug's 1st Movie packs a precocious punch.

A solid introduction to unfortunate realities.

Composed through thoughtful reverie.  

Has The Nature of Things ever made an episode featuring sandstorms?

That would be cool.

Accidentally discovered something the other day that might already exist, 😜, but I've totally never seen them before: butter tarts covered in icing. 

Incredibly delicious.

Good thing I dropped that cupcake.

Falling Down

Joel Schumacher's Falling Down provocatively asks the question, "is ill-composed vigilantism more troublesome than it's worth?"

As a down-on-his-luck somewhat rigid individual finds himself stuck in another traffic jam, and rather than patiently waiting it out, decides it's time to abandon his car and walk (Michael Douglas as D-Fens).

His journey begins at a local convenience store where he critiques their elevated prices, haggling to bring down the cost of a Coca-Cola, before tearing the place asunder.

He then proceeds to walk through gang territory where he's suddenly asked to pay toll, his stubborn refusal instigating violence which eventually leaves him with a bag full of weapons.

He can't accept that he's divorced and prohibited form spending time with his daughter, and wants to see her on her birthday without any desire to make amends.

Meanwhile a cop is retiring after having worked several years behind a desk (Robert Duvall as Prendergast), for which he's frustratingly insulted by his Captain (Raymond J. Barry), who thinks he shouldn't have played it safe.

He's played it safe because he loves his wife who made significant sacrifices to marry him (Tuesday Weld), and has become somewhat neurotic over the years, trying to deal with grim potentialities. 

He's sympathetic and understanding and does his best to go with the flow, accepting idiosyncrasy and peculiarity particularized par for the communal course.

As D-Fens travels across L.A becoming more and more irate as the hours pass, Prendergast takes note of his comings and goings then heads out to solve one more case.

Falling Down presents sustained criticism of vexing realities taken for granted, from two similar yet divergent perspectives interrogating alternative paths seeking reason.

I've never understood waiting for hours and hours every working day in traffic, if the métro's a possibility it can save time and facilitate reading.

Convenience stores are convenient, why does it matter if things cost a little more? If my hair's eventually going to turn grey, it won't be because I spent a little extra on snacks.

You witness a vitriolic exchange while shopping for who knows what, if it's apparent the owner's unhinged, why do you hang around?

Job creation's essential, better to have people working then idle and irritated, even if the creation of work is at times perhaps not as rational as logic would hope.

It's still fun to attentively watch as D-Fens actively vents his frustration, as he heads from one worst case scenario to another, and takes on peeps just as angry and stubborn.

He goes way too far of course although I imagine others think he should have gone further.

A day spent crossing every line.

No limits, no rations, no quarter. 

It'd be cool to live near a whale sanctuary.

With a kayak.

No harm in addin' helicopter turtles to somethin'.

Salsa

Tartan transcendental check up

soulful light emrelished ketchup

correspondence lapsed the reeling

incidental jocose beaming

down corporeal transmission

reified insight envisioned

saccharine stardust schematic

interplanetary paddock

muelled immersive pastures shading

horsedrawn backpacked coruscating

pitch communal figure eight

externalized sparticle spate

the mealy meteoric mouthful

exponential floric boutful 

histrionic hyperdriven

shy skyrocketed misgivens

ripples.

Captain Ron

Oceanic endeavour.

The wide open seas.

From island to island.

Serendipitous spawn.

Martin (Martin Short) finds suburban living somewhat humdrum even if he's ensconced in a bountiful bower, and one day unexpectedly discovers he's inherited a seafaring vessel, barnacly and boundless, ye olde ad hoc treasure, a novel idea expressing itself forthwith, pack up the fam, ride arrhythmic waves.

His wife's (Mary Kay Place as Katherine) none too thrilled with the idea but agrees without hesitation, after hearing of their daughter's (Meadow Sisto as Caroline) engagement, to a freewheeling modicum of ill-repute.

The plan is to sail the Caribbean for a month or so and then quickly sell the ship in Miami, but there's just one prim prohibitive problem, none of them know anything about sailing.

Fortunately, a Captain is provided but he's not as bourgeois as they had innocently hoped, indeed even more freewheeling than Caroline's fiancé, playful unorthodox methods to boot.

But they're gamers so they freely make do until Captain Ron (Kurt Russell) starts driving Martin crazy.

But has he taught him something along the way?

Beyond landlubbed highly strung legitimacies?

It's the classic corporate/bohemian showdown and naturally the artist is unaware of the competition, he's sure and steady if not unhinged, yet still facilitates forthcoming formulae. 

It's a matter of dialect of comatose comprehension unforeseen patterns chillaxed yet cogent, unfettered flamingo flotsam familiarity, indubitably active, consubstantially withdrawn.

Ron shares his knowledge freely yet is unaware of its shocking import, and the ways in which the well-to-do dismiss it, with pretentious instinct and rationalistic calm.

Martin loses that calm however as his disbelief mutates into audacity, and even though Ron's advice proves wise eventually, Martin still attempts to assert autonomy.

Where do you draw the line between myth and reality when alternative dispositions suddenly clash, who's guilty of cynicism or embellishment or gullibility or honest sincerity?

It seems this subject needs more clarification insofar as communication is paramount, essential.

Misinterpretation par for the course.

Artistic abundance randomly flourishing.

Has anyone else felt like they've de-evolved during the pandemic, or reverted back to a primordial state more familiar before mutating?

😧

It's cool that scientists have found bacteria that can potentially devour invasive microplastics, but would a film wherein which that bacterial glob is then feasted upon by oceanic lifeforms, who are then transformed into mutated dinosaurial entities, who then head for land, and Terran habitations, not also be somewhat cool?

In the Name of the Father

A young borderline ne-er-do-well buck earns a living through controversial means (Daniel Day-Lewis as Gerry Conlon), his dependable father supportive yet stern (Pete Postlethwaite as Giuseppe Conlon), his animate fortunes fluid yet dour.

He heads to England leaving Belfast behind in search of something non-specific in particular, meeting an old friend on his brisk maiden voyage (John Lynch as Paul Hill), the two finding their way to a commune. 

Jealousies cloud their smooth integration and conflict erupts within the bower, however, firmly necessitating agile itinerancy boldly embraced with freewheeling concessions.

But on that very same eve a long peaceful pub is scurrilously attacked, the two friends in the reckless vicinity, the police searching for someone to blame.

They're soon callously rounded up and slowly beaten into sedate submission, and the cops take their interrogations to the next level, and arrest most of Gerry's close family.

Father and son wind up sharing a cell amongst hardened felons unaccustomed to innocence, young Gerry broken yet looking for friends, aged Giuseppe resigned to his despondent fate.

Years later a determined lawyer resolutely seeks veracious social justice (Emma Thompson as Gareth Peirce), as applied to the wrongfully convicted victims of the heinous crime.

The police know they've imprisoned the wrong people since the legitimate culprit freely confessed.

Yet they're unwilling to admit their mistake.

As the years pass by interminably.  

I think a lot of the time the police do a great job, in fact they've been quite helpful on occasion, wrongfully imprisoning people to appease the public is frustratingly distasteful to say the least however.

Moving forward with intent to convict even though it's probable the suspects are innocent, leads to widespread mistrust in law enforcement, and derivate righteous anarchy.

In the Name of the Father holds law enforcement to account while uplifting honest independent inquiries, as a father and son languish in sensational injustice, and many others face similar sentences.

It proceeds too quickly at times, for it covers a lengthy time period, barely scratching the surface of what could have been said in a prolonged reflective series.

But the moments it does choose to share are considerate and make for thought provoking jurisprudent theatre, poignant pastimes and just grace and dignity cultivating passionate aggrieved freespirits. 

Mind-boggling to wonder why anything like the events in this film came to pass?

They had the proof of their innocence.

Politics and law, a dangerous combination. 

Just imagined eating dinner with someone who didn't mind making a mess, so then I didn't have to worry about making a mess either, and then we had the greatest time!

If predisposed to irony, does anxiety complement reasonability?

Barking

Float flotilla flotsam flounce

tostitoed tart tortilla pounce

the garlic gallivanting gastro

gnomic flabbergastling aphro 

schism scrivened shorn sequential

editorial 'lementals

morning madness clob collation

fasts fortuitous libations

lickspit lispy lorbital

circuitous transisted mulled

exported broadcast filiblustered

staggering sardonic clusters

collaged aggregate grin grittied

torpid tourniquet vin ditty

scarlet sobey synchro sanctioned 

infinitesimal plinth plankton

micro.

My Cousin Vinny

Proper procedure.

The correct steps to be taken in the precise order.

Never wavering from the script's strict imposing code.

Inviolable structure.

Airtight renditions.

Vinny Gambini (Joe Pesci) possesses the argumentative wherewithal, the incisive logic reasonably applied to ascertain guilt or innocence, but when it comes to the specific testaments concerning how to traditionally proceed, he's somewhat at a loss, and struggles to acclimatize. 

It's like the stellar unwritten rules which drive unorthodox independent filmmaking, have been transferred to a court of law, in Jonathan Lynn's My Cousin Vinny.

Vinny's held in contempt several times to punish his undisciplined disorienting candour, but he takes it in stride unconcerned with pejorative principled checks and balances. 

It was a different time (1992) breaking down barriers which upheld uptight and rigid formalities, in order to accommodate sociocultural differences which hadn't been raised in plutocratic splendour.

Then again, Lydia Berman in Thunder Force invigorates similar non-linear spirits, perhaps a Foucauldian study needs to be conducted regarding American comedy's progressive intentions. 

A lack of room for alternative dispositions can provoke a cynical malaise, nevertheless, and widespread support for flagrant difference which challenges dismissive pretension. 

Of course codes of conduct need to be respected within reasonable non-farcical bounds. 

But if people possess the content but lack the formality trouble will brew if they're left by the wayside (I'm not writing about myself, I like my jobs and oddball inclinations, but there are people much more ambitious than me who may be looking for answers from rowdier sources).

Accommodation works both ways and peeps can't just say and do whatever they feel like all the time.

But if procedures prevent competent employees from competing because they're not wearing an acceptable tie or discussing esoteric topics, with abstract obscurity and orthodox disdain, doesn't the resultant managerial gene pool banally stagnate, and innovation fail to materialize? 

I imagine it's not like that in many spheres, however, and sometimes I forget the multiple representations of provocative difference found in the credits of Michael Moore films.

Exceptions multitudinously grounding.

Alternative visions materialistically conveyed.

I saw My Cousin Vinny in my youth (at Christmas) and was so impressed with Marisa Tomei (Mona Lisa Vito). 

I was happy to see her nominated for an Oscar too.

And was super impressed when she won. 

*A classic.

As far as I know, humans are the only animals whose young may experience difficulty learning to swim.

Does this mean our ancestors are in fact aliens who crash landed on Earth thousands of years ago, and had to painstakingly rebuild (over the centuries) whatever civilization they had destroyed on the planet they had previously inhabited and then fled (perhaps like Khan [there's a cool video game there])?

Perhaps.

Although I imagine it's much more likely that as we've become more domesticated over the millennia, our young have lost some of the natural instincts that used to ensure their feisty survival in the wild.

Who knows?

😜

Is gut bacteria a physical manifestation of the soul which nurtures both innovation and déjà vu?

The Beastmaster

Prophecy declares that an evil priest (Rip Torn) will be slain by a king's gifted son (Marc Singer as Dar), so he engages in open defiance, and attempts to murder the infant. 

Who is saved by a conscientious villager who them raises him as his own, teaching him the arts of logic and sword-fighting as he patiently comes of age.

As he matures he also learns that he has a natural gift with animals, and can indeed converse and interact with them as if they were taxonomic kin.

Soon his village is attacked by fierce barbarians and in the aftermath he alone survives, setting out to grieve incarnate wandering upon the open road.

By chance, one day he encounters two nimble maidens frolicking unrestrained, one who seems to take an interest in his imposing derelict tragedy (Tanya Roberts as Kiri). 

But she is to be sacrificed and must be boldly saved and then set free, Dar befriending other victims of injustice correspondingly, whom he agrees to fight along side.

They must save a dynamic city from the very same evil priest of long ago.

Who's allied with the barbarians. 

And hellbent on pernicious ritual.

A just emancipating vision disposed to humble daring legend, adventurously emerges as noble Dar quests impassioned. 

Instinctual freedom untethered largesse distinctly abound with forthright recalcitrance, within a realm chaotically composed through distraught prayer and demonic terror.

In an age creatively refusing to be limited by impossibility, Beastmaster brazenly interrogated lavish budgets and special effects.

If you want to imaginatively conceive beyond disheartening technological constraints, look to Don Coscarelli and his crafty film which pursued fascination reprieved regardless.

His animals were real and he wasn't confined by dismissive inconsiderate assumptions (don't make this: it will be cheesy), proceeding epically unimpeded by pejorative disjunction.

Perhaps inspiring many who work for Marvel or DC or independently this postmodern day, remarkable to see how much things change, over the course of the passing decades.

You think, "how could things surpass contemporary animate production design?"

While longing for long lost muppets.

Audacious initiative. 

Impossibility.  

With John Amos.

How come no one's made a Thundercats movie yet?

Thundercats does not show up in spellcheck!

Meow!

Happy Mother's Day!

Moms out there.

Potato Leek

Ebullient stock vegetal

the supercilious 'marole

rigged up diversified incensement

spicy certified contentment

just a passing poignant pause

enough to exorcize dislodge

paradigmatic perturbation

overcome through recreation

riddles jumbled sporty scramble

sunny side inclusive ramble

softboiled synergies seraphic

solace evergreen elastic

theorized interconnected

freeform practical perspectives

light or moderate or heavy

bizarro après les bevvies 

sojourn.

D.A.R.Y.L

My quest to see every film I missed during my youth continues.

A young lad finds himself awakening in a peaceful new community, with no memories of his former life, curious and thoughtful yet hesitant and shy, as he hopes and prays to rediscover his identity (Barret Oliver as Daryl). 

Fortunately, a loving couple is eager to watch over as his parents are sought, hoping to adopt their own children one day, and to prove they can parent and prosper.

Yet wee Daryl requires little nurturing and even begins to annoy his new mom (Mary Beth Hurt as Joyce Richardson), since he's neat and tidy and helpful and kind and requires no assistance to endearingly excel.

His new friend Turtle (Danny Corkill) patiently explains that parents like to be instructive and contradictory, and whether or not his advice is reasonable, it certainly helps out in the context of the film.

Wherein which neigh lo and behold it turns out Daryl is in fact a robot, who was set free from a secretive laboratory hellbent on subjecting him to constant tests.

And the government reps who have financed his genesis no longer seek to prolong his life, in fact he's been targeted for callous termination with little regard for his nascent wonder.

Yet as he's existed up close with a loving family an unexpected miracle has bountifully bloomed, for he's learned to love and make friends and warmly integrate within a community. 

The scientists are resoundingly ecstatic and risk their lives in order to save his.

He's able to provide incisive aid.

Instantaneous ingenious translation.

D.A.R.Y.L celebrates the emergence of family emphatically resisting inanimate life, the chance to live and grow within alternative paradigms daringly attuned to wholesome eccentricity. 

Daryl's much more like Superman inasmuch as he likes people and productivity, he just wants to integrate and have constructive fun without causing distressing incredulous uproar. 

But I'm afraid I'm too invested in The Terminator (released a year before) to support initiatives radically advancing A.I., one robot like Data is perhaps beneficial, thousands upon thousands like a legion of Zods.

That does seem to be the way things are headed though, the profits too incredible to be ethically ignored, hopefully they don't start replacing people with robots nevertheless, highly advanced organisms just don't get daily life.

Rather than focusing our attention on A.I why not look to find new ways to advance green technologies, while helping out real cats and dogs etc. living in shelters, rather than buying robot pets.

People aren't so bad a lot of the time there's so much poetry beyond pretension.

Just have to let go and detect it.

Soak it in.

Embrace.

Diversify. 

Co-starring Michael McKean (Andy Richardson).

Fare thee well Normal Powell, coveted former linchpin of the Toronto Raptors.

It'd be cool to see a film that's all about football, being taught during an ESL lesson.

Hobson's Choice

A prosperous shopkeep enjoys the comforts of gregarious bourgeois living, his agile workforce securing fresh profits, his lovely daughters managing his home (Charles Laughton as Mr. Hobson).

He gorges himself on plenty with ample criticisms and bumptious dismissals, boasting wildly down at Moonrakers, where he drinks too much on occasion. 

His lordly litanies cumbrously forget the lively existence of others, however, notably his eldest daughter Maggie (Brenda de Banzie) whom he assumes is bound for spinsterhood. 

She's been taking care of the business and is none too fond of the assumption, nor the incumbent caretaking it presumes, nor her lack of daily wages.

She's also aware that one of their employees is a brilliant natural bootmaker, who lacks worldly pretentious ambition, and could use a patron to his advance his skill (John Mills as William Mossop).

So she makes the bold decision to demand he quit and accompany her elsewhere, to open up a new bootshop in fact, and to take her hand in marriage. 

Soon they've lured much of her father's discerning clients to their innovative new brand, and even serendipitously composed an even more vivacious plan.

Take each film on its own nimble merits without drawing conclusions about family or gender, for in so many men have disavowed gallantry, while in many others women have done the same.

It's not my place to generally conclude which sex embraces banality more often, but rather to analyze proposed fictional and truthful evidence to ascertain who has spoiled particular instances.

It's not the safest way to proceed insofar as you wind up critiquing both sides, the level-headed amongst them appreciating the honesty, both sexes at times proceeding in error.

I think the secret is to revel in the difference the opposite gender provides, assuming they aren't physically or psychologically violent, as that gender manifests so many alternative aspects, over the course of a productive lifetime.

I suspect men who love women and women who love men find it much easier to productively live together.

Creating boundaries and mischievous rules for playfully crossing/breaking through rapt contradiction. 

Hobson knows only one boundary that which asserts authoritarian prominence, his subjects none too pleased with his grandiose postures, and willing to daringly challenge and disrupt them.

If you wish to proceed like Hobson, David Lean's Hobson's Choice may be perilous, for it champions multilateral fair play, within which multiple stakeholders prosper.

But if you seek to enjoy a well-crafted film wherein which democratic impulse constructively asserts itself, you may be rather impressed by this Hobson's Choice, which captures the spirit of resilient open-mindedness. 

Sorry for going on about how many environments require large carnivores like wolves or lions at times.

I don't like that cheetahs or jaguars hunt other animals and eat them, in fact I find it quite distressing, but practically every environmental book I've read and nature documentary I've seen emphasizes how large carnivores are essential to maintaining healthy ecosystems, to making sure there's enough food to go around, by ensuring deer populations etc. don't grow too large.

I don't apply this kind of thinking to social and economic structures organized by humans because I think we're advanced enough to outwit the unfortunate dynamics of nature, and can thereby create inclusive systems that emphasize lifelong learning, while leaving nature alone to thrive in secluded areas (or integrating the beasties who choose to live amongst us), which we'll hopefully leave alone ad infinitum.

 

Not to be complaining, or to be finding fault with a joyous tradition, but it seems to me that if you win a Wheel of Fortune round, in which you acquired a coveted Wild Card, that if you hit bankrupt in a subsequent round, you should not have to forfeit that very same Wild Card, since the round in which it was acquired has already prosperously ended. 

For completion's sake.

Nuzzle

Hands held holistic happenstance

heartfelt inaugural entranced 

implicit startling hesitation

understated pulpitation 

levity loquacious lounging

catalyzed mewtated bounding

frisked felicitous bewilder

improvised abashed off-kilter

slackadaisical me knots

inchoate crafty interlocked

cascading sighs the intertwining

evanescent aggrandizing

quivers quizzical embowered

inarticulate for nower

'cross the verdant exclamation

frolicking in fascinations

furtive.