Oh that's crap. If windows craps out on booting up there's still a few simple things left to do that usually will solve the problem. The repair consol tool is decent, you can repair installations off the cd, and of course the venerable emergency repair disk. But in a large netowrk enviroment (since you're smart and redirect the folders to the network shares so nothing will be lost in just such a feather numbering eventuallity) you just pop in a floopy have it automatically throw down what ever image it should have, automagically, and let it do everything itself. The person using the computer returns phone calls for a little while, and everything is just as they left it.
And backing up the registry in windows consists of clicking on windows backup then clicking on the box that says system state.
The truth is pretty mundane. Linux and Windows each have their advantages. When you promote one at the expence of the truth, you're no longer a believer you're a zealot.
Movies are good or crap independant of whatever messege they may have. It's a story telling medium. One of the things that makes a story bad, are internal inconsistancies. Which Solaris almost cornered the market on. The characters at their deepest were paper thin. A supposedly talented psychologist who tortures clinicly depressed people, threatens to end their only significant relationship, and then leaves them alone with respectable quantities of tranquilizers? No. Well respected maybe, but practicing psychology after that, probably not. Have friends who would want him to practice psychology on them? Bzzzt. That's a definitive no.
To say nothing of a space psychologist who makes house calls on the superluminal express. I read about this guy, his name was Marconi.... Yeah. If you can't get your space psychologist to the spaceship or more than 10 minutes into a movie without saying, "Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain! I am the great and powerful Soderberg. Let's have a look at that sweet sweet ass." Do the world a favor, stop making movies and eat a bullet.
Bad middle school monologues about memory can betray you and how you're still made up of those perceptions of those experiences aren't a movie any more than the vagina monologues are.
Oh and as far as *my* supposed baggage. A shame you weren't awake for the end of the movie when Kelvin realized he was in "heaven" and Rheya said they were forgiven. Freed from the mistakes he'd made and the regret that had immobilized his life. But I'm sure you thought that when he cut his finger chopping vegitables, that it was an original master stroke. The highest level of filmmaking to be sure.
I almost agree. There was certainly a lot of stroking. Clooney while looking at a picture of his own ass. And Steve while reading a profile of himself in Variety or something.
Christ Aliens grappled more successfully with so called "deep philosophical questions" and it's entertaining too.
As for Mission to Mars, it shares Solaris' failings. A light wieght plot dressed up as erudit. To bad there's nothing there to sustain it but brutal special effects, listless dialogue, around a poorly thought out story. You have to love Robbins' death scene. Our theater howled with laughter. Ok some people were laughing, and the other may well have been howling a variety of invectives. At least they occasionally put a little thought into what a trip to Mars might intale as opposed to which props they could reuse from 2001.
Red Planet has Moss and a cool death dealing robot, and according to the click through EULA for slashdot I'm contractually obligated to like it. Failure to abide by those terms may result in a reduction of my karma.
Hey, but want a low brow movie with high brow hot scifi cerebral action? Total Recall. Do memories make the man? Arnold, a tri-breasted space bimbo, and Sharon Stone in a role that doesn't suck or require her to, say the interpritation is all up to you.
I can't imagine it's easy on the ego being completely out classed by Paul Verhoeven. At least Spielberg has giant piles of money for comfort.
"I don't worry about things like internal consistancy, or the reasonableness of a sequence of events because the movie pays lip service to deep philosophical questions. This gets me thinking about interesting things, so I forget that I'm watching an impossibly banal and unimaginative story telling effort."
For which I have zero empathy. This movies' message: Forgiveness is salvation. Regret is a trap. Cliches are the new drama! Boredom is the new excitement! And the grownups in my audiance started laughing when they busted out, are the visitors made out of matter? Why I think there's a 50 percent chance of that! Good, this afternoon I'll rig up an anti-Higgs boson beam that we can modulate at either 90 GHz or 160 GHz and forever turn them into degenerate matter which can then be sold to mystery traders for plans to up grade parts on our ship!!! God, how I wish I was kidding about that last part.
Movie Most Foul: Solaris. (Spoilers)
on
Review: Solaris
·
· Score: 1
It's about 90 minutes too long. I'd recommend doing anything else with your time. I still fervently wish some kind stranger had given me this advice yesterday. But unfortunately for me, it is too late. Now all there is left for me to do is wait for the day Rod Hilton finishes his abridged script version.
Solaris is a movie, principally about one of the world's worst psychologists who lost his wife to suicide. Not only is he a psychologist, he is a space psychologist; who, incidentally, makes house calls to other stars. Visitors interrupt his cutting of vegetables. I mention the cutting of the vegetables only because they feel the need to abuse venerable cut the finger run it under water cliche. They don't even dust it off. There's also the almost amusing quirk that, after his wife's suicide, he cuts his left index finger every time he attempts to prepare zucchini.
Anyway...he lives in the far future where doorbells scan irises for identification purposes only, but don't tell you who's at your door, and thus provide a reason to ask, "Who is it?" This is a far future of superluminal travel and communication, and an information infrastructure consisting of two guys hand delivering videos for no reason. The video consists of a dire and pointlessly cryptic request for help, from an old friend.
So it's off to space he goes. Mercifully they spare us a hypersleep sequence. In any case, the set design is particularly abhorrent. The scene is only in there at all to be vaguely reminiscent of 2001. (Not my favorite movie either but vastly superior to this one). We also get to see Solaris. It's bluish purple, and I'm sorry that's as close to a compliment as I can get. Er..Good effort? Now our intrepid space psychologist who makes house calls is wandering around the space station and finds bloody hand prints smeared all over everything. People have been killed! (Including the old friend) In space! Contrary to ones intuition perhaps, the space ship is open and roomy, everyone has a little cabin with a little star trek door, and a plastic space bed with space blanket. Why, this space ship has everything, including a large morgue. And let me tell you a morgue that can hold maybe 40 corpses on a spaceship carrying 4 people, tre luxurious! To say nothing about a ship orbiting in what would appear to be the corona of a star. (I can't believe James Cameron produced this. I don't think I'll ever be able to wrap my head around that one. The same guy that had the fanatical attention to detail, where the locks on the Colonial Marine lockers in Aliens worked, produced this movie.)
Anyway...space psychologist wanders around until he hears gay music, and runs into a quirky space character that won't tell him anything, because it's too complicated an idea to relate with your primitive earth language known as English. Of course this is not too dissimilar from Time Cop, where the answer to, "What's going on?" is in fact very simple though fantastic, but that would shorten the movie by up to half an hour. He then has a conversation with an equally quirky character, we'll call her Token, who doesn't trust anyone despite the fact that space ships are fragile and she lives on one.
Anyway, he dreams of his dead wife, of how much he loved her, and finds himself with her in his space room. A normal person might still infer that he's dreaming and roll with it. Well a normal person isn't the worlds worst space psychologist. So he instead realizes he's awake, has a brief conversation and kills her.
So he wanders around, apparently everyone saw him kill his fake dead wife. Perhaps not a good first impression for a space psychologist to make, but the only people who are left are quirky so its all good.
So he dreams again. She comes back, born anew and unaware. This time they sit. She eventually intuits that she's not who she thinks she is, and further more the space psychologist remembered her wrong. Through some of the great many flash backs we learn exactly how bad the worlds worst space psychologist is. His plan is to bring her back Sam Beckett style and set right what once went wrong. The first quirky guy, Token, our space psychologist and his construct have a conversation. Trekknobabble ensues: Token, a physicist, asks the first quirky guy, tech support, if the apparitions are made of matter. Presented with a yes or no question, he flips a coin. Yes, they are made of matter. Token then muses on how they can generate anti-higgs bosons weakly in the 90 GHz range or strongly in the 160 GHz range and disintegrate them forever. Because she hates them like a super-villain hates puppies, and Christmas. Token then goes on to prove this by telling Rheya, the now undead wife, that the space psychologist can't like her all that much, after all he killed the first version within minutes! Rheya then runs away. Space psychologist briefly looks up says, "Wait...aww screw it" and has a snack.
He finds Rheya she drank blue goop, which we then find out was supposed to be liquid oxygen. He carries her back to his space room, and her wounds heal and she is reborn. They then have a heart to heart. Rheya decides she's not the real Rheya, she's remembered wrong. And to prove how different she is, she's going to use a science fiction plot device to kill herself with anti-higgs bosons, not pills! Totally different. Our space psychologist has found his resolve, no more murder or suicide! His resolve appears to be red pills. An indeterminate amount of time passes quickly, he's now crippled by fatigue and red pills. Rheya is taking care of him, in his space bed; he is sweating. She wanders off to commit suicide. Third time's a charm. She also leaves him a short video note.
The space psychologist has lost. So they decide to go home. But OH NO! They find the dead body of the first quirky guy! He's been an apparition all along!! No one is surprised or interested. This empty shell of a movie long ago imploded under the weight of it's own pretentiousness. The quirky guy then remarks its all ok. Because the fuel cells were depleted by the activation of the scifi plot device, and that said plot device cause jupite^H^H^H^H^H^HSolaris' mass to increase exponentially this ship isn't going anywhere. Better take the Athena. So they do.
The space psychologist is alone on Earth again. He's choppin' broccoli, and cuts his finger again. When he runs it under the water it heals before his eyes. Just like when Rheya drank the blue goop! He is dead people! Bruce Willis chokes on some popcorn, dies, finds himself in the movie and kicks Clooney's R-rated ass. Then he makes out with Rheya and totally air guitars.
We are left to ponder what the half way decent version of this movie might have been like. The credits start and Belinda Carlisle sings softly in the background.
Bah. Everytime someone asks a legal question of the slashdot community some smart alec goes as says, "Get a lawyer, Duh!" How's that help him. What's a lawyer going to do for him that a lot of wild assed guessing can't do? Save his house? Prevent his children from being sold into slavery? Maybe, but that's totally beside the point!
I say, tell the representative of said company, that you didn't copy anything. You just saved the original, because you were intruiged by their offer of a larger penis, and later wrote a web page around it when you found out their offer was less than genuine. So you didn't make any sort of copy, you're just letting people see your original.
What's slashdot comming to when a request for a delusional ranting ends up soliciting sensible legal advice? It's at times like this that I weep for the script kiddies.
One might also observe that she compared physics to sculpting, in so far as one of her talents was "looking at all sides" or something to that effect. It would seem that instead of a typically feminine trait she was just comparing it to other relatable things that other people might be familiar with. Everyone at some point has made a meal for themselves. And I'm sure a majority have at least played with mud, even if they haven't had more formal experiences.
Often times I think the conclusions people jump to tell vastly more about the one doing the jumping than they say about the person being jumped on.
You would think that people who find themselves in the unenviable position of arguing for the death of the analogy would be a little more careful. I'm certainly glad they typically eschew any such notions of caution. Pratfalls are funny. Esspecially intellectual ones.
Regardless of linking to pay sites. I find your idea for a website that anonomously tracks the habits of a Korean gay pregnant man intriuging. I'd like to option it for a screen play. With Arnold Schwarzenegger apparently taking a break from politics, I think the time is right for just this sort of story.
I'm thinking of something along the lines of The Manchurian Canidate meets The Net meets Raw Deal. Karen Mistal could be the vapid love intrest who puts him in a family way. John Ashton the unscrupulous villain. George Clooney the dashing rival. And a cameo by Gary Condit.
Well it certainly couldn't be worse than extreme ops, or half past dead.
Dude. I still play Bandit Kings of Ancient China, KOEI 1989, in sparkling EGA glory, and Stars!. The inavailability of Stars! Supernova Genesis does twist my nibblets though.
To a guy like me you're on the bleeding edge of gaming.
Do you mean Hemmingway's fictional dog, or the geographic feature? Jesus. I'm pratcially illiterate I'm so poorly read, and even I've read at least a couple of the worlds most famous short stories.
I'd be an AC too if I was going to ask such stupid questions.
The difference being: a hostile government won't round up the list of registered car owners, label them "enemy combatants", and take their cars away.
The things that pass for insightful now days.... You have assualt weapons? Morters? A recoiless rifle? A T-72? A MiG-29? Yeah, fat lot of good those seem to be doing those who choose to face off against a 1st world military. One would think that if one were familiar with the "plight" of the so called "enemy combatants", one would also remember that before they before they met their end, whatever it happened to be, they had at least an assualt weapon.
Red Dawn was a movie. Get over it. Hey while you're at it, why not spend some of that free time familiarizing yourself with the first part of the second amendment.
How did Charelton Heston manage to convince everyone that invasion from a Cuba ruled by man-eating movie watching apes was not only possible but likely? That's a lot of charisma, even for a guy wearing a neckerchief.
Voting with your dollar for value, will automatically be counted as a vote against high speed internet service and a vote for unwieldy monopolies that give you what they want secure in the knowledge you're legally obligated to like it. I would like to take this opportunity to tip my hat to Michael Powell, and the thevies at worldcom who played no small role in halving the value of my mutual funds inside of 12 months.
Condalezza Rice and Michael Powell should get together and have the worlds stupidest politician. Through its powers of super nepotism it could grow up to have the diction of George Bush Mk II, the spelling and insight of Dan Quayle, the timing of Jimmy Carter, and the moral fiber of Ronald Regean.
One might even make the case that the marketplace exists only for the consumer, and that producers arrive to service a market based on consumers wants. Using the law to make what consumers want, and find natural, illegal had better have a pretty solid foundation in protecting the consumers and the common good. Plying our virtual oligarchy and fantastically mercenary "representatives" in a doomed attempt to legitimize the point of veiw that I exist for the convienece of the producer, in the interests of capitalism, would certainly give even a dead Adam Smith an aneurysm. Clearly the Wealth of Nations doesn't get sufficent examination by those in power if not the know. What a world we might live in if people really existed so the bakers could sell bread. Everyone a baker, no flour in sight, and that's ok, because everyone hates bread now anyway.
Maybe that's the great failing of capitalism, everything is for sale, including the law. I still trust in its great strength, that everything must eventually yield to the will of the market. But sometimes I wonder. Fortunately, the media executives keep thinking up new incentives to make stealing more worthwhile while simultaniously providing ever more motivation for others to make said stealing, ever faster and simpler. Given all those efforts, which have been so spectacularly successful, one wonders where they could have possibly found the time to both make hundreds of billions of dollars, and ruin radio. We're I faced with so many stunning achivements, I might well consider a move into the political arena. But I digress. My ten year plan to become King of America is a whole other topic.
Sorry, you'll still need the reynolds wrap. X-rays and gamma rays are the so called "death rays". So while we won't need red dust to kick their prissy little xenomorphic asses back to alpha centari, they'll still be able to know where you hide your porn, how many gigs you have, and how it's sorted.
They actually had to write up an enviromental impact statement outlining how unlikely it was that our explorations might destroy the universe. IIRC. I think they predicted that something 5000 lead lead collisions of a similar nature occure every year in the universe. Heh. Humans rock. We beat that by a million times in the breifest of moments. I like to think that's where my tax dollars went.
I'm completely out of my depth, but as I understand the experiment the really vast gold atoms don't behave like billard balls. They are little pancaked discs that have this swarm of virtual particles around them, and when two of these atoms approach each other those swarms interact. That interaction sort of drags on the atoms stealing a little of their kinetic energy. But the atoms are movie so fast they out run this virtual reaction. So there's this little pocket of space that gets that extra energy, a lot of extra energy for it's volume. It ends up being heated to something like 2 trillion degrees, and we get to recreate yet another state of matter (three states my ass!). Not to mention getting a chance to push the universes clock back to something on the order of the first trillionth of a second, or even earlier!
That's all good, G. Princess Daphne is an LA 10, and has all kinds of time for the listless, friendless loser who really knows how to use his joy stick.
My porn is realistic enough, now it needs to be sorted, weeded for duplicates, and cataloged. And unfortunately there's too much for a human to do. Come to think of it, maybe the computer could appreciate it too. What was that movie again? Hardware?
Interesting observation. So whatever happened to DEC anyway? Oh yeah.... It's not always the sick or weak, sometimes it's the unaware that end up being prey.
Somehow I think now that Beowulf comments have fallen into disfavor this has risen as the new obligitory funny remark. Karma whores unite to beat the one into the ground before its too late!
Where are you finding your hour long cds. I know they'll hold more than an hour. But the vast majority of my albums top out at 30 minutes. And for 20 bucks you routinely get a 2 disc dvd set with something in the neighborhood of 6 hours worth of extras. But that's assuming you don't shop around and pick them up for between 14.99 and 18.79.
I can't wait to see what movies are like in twenty years after the kids that are growing up to be movie freaks with all this know how laid out in front of them now. Damn, those should be some brilliant stories.
Slashdot Mirror
Oh that's crap. If windows craps out on booting up there's still a few simple things left to do that usually will solve the problem. The repair consol tool is decent, you can repair installations off the cd, and of course the venerable emergency repair disk. But in a large netowrk enviroment (since you're smart and redirect the folders to the network shares so nothing will be lost in just such a feather numbering eventuallity) you just pop in a floopy have it automatically throw down what ever image it should have, automagically, and let it do everything itself. The person using the computer returns phone calls for a little while, and everything is just as they left it.
And backing up the registry in windows consists of clicking on windows backup then clicking on the box that says system state.
The truth is pretty mundane. Linux and Windows each have their advantages. When you promote one at the expence of the truth, you're no longer a believer you're a zealot.
Movies are good or crap independant of whatever messege they may have. It's a story telling medium. One of the things that makes a story bad, are internal inconsistancies. Which Solaris almost cornered the market on. The characters at their deepest were paper thin. A supposedly talented psychologist who tortures clinicly depressed people, threatens to end their only significant relationship, and then leaves them alone with respectable quantities of tranquilizers? No. Well respected maybe, but practicing psychology after that, probably not. Have friends who would want him to practice psychology on them? Bzzzt. That's a definitive no.
To say nothing of a space psychologist who makes house calls on the superluminal express. I read about this guy, his name was Marconi.... Yeah. If you can't get your space psychologist to the spaceship or more than 10 minutes into a movie without saying, "Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain! I am the great and powerful Soderberg. Let's have a look at that sweet sweet ass." Do the world a favor, stop making movies and eat a bullet.
Bad middle school monologues about memory can betray you and how you're still made up of those perceptions of those experiences aren't a movie any more than the vagina monologues are.
Oh and as far as *my* supposed baggage. A shame you weren't awake for the end of the movie when Kelvin realized he was in "heaven" and Rheya said they were forgiven. Freed from the mistakes he'd made and the regret that had immobilized his life. But I'm sure you thought that when he cut his finger chopping vegitables, that it was an original master stroke. The highest level of filmmaking to be sure.
I almost agree. There was certainly a lot of stroking. Clooney while looking at a picture of his own ass. And Steve while reading a profile of himself in Variety or something.
Christ Aliens grappled more successfully with so called "deep philosophical questions" and it's entertaining too.
As for Mission to Mars, it shares Solaris' failings. A light wieght plot dressed up as erudit. To bad there's nothing there to sustain it but brutal special effects, listless dialogue, around a poorly thought out story. You have to love Robbins' death scene. Our theater howled with laughter. Ok some people were laughing, and the other may well have been howling a variety of invectives. At least they occasionally put a little thought into what a trip to Mars might intale as opposed to which props they could reuse from 2001.
Red Planet has Moss and a cool death dealing robot, and according to the click through EULA for slashdot I'm contractually obligated to like it. Failure to abide by those terms may result in a reduction of my karma.
Hey, but want a low brow movie with high brow hot scifi cerebral action? Total Recall. Do memories make the man? Arnold, a tri-breasted space bimbo, and Sharon Stone in a role that doesn't suck or require her to, say the interpritation is all up to you.
I can't imagine it's easy on the ego being completely out classed by Paul Verhoeven. At least Spielberg has giant piles of money for comfort.
Every good review I've seen seems to add up to:
"I don't worry about things like internal consistancy, or the reasonableness of a sequence of events because the movie pays lip service to deep philosophical questions. This gets me thinking about interesting things, so I forget that I'm watching an impossibly banal and unimaginative story telling effort."
For which I have zero empathy. This movies' message: Forgiveness is salvation. Regret is a trap. Cliches are the new drama! Boredom is the new excitement! And the grownups in my audiance started laughing when they busted out, are the visitors made out of matter? Why I think there's a 50 percent chance of that! Good, this afternoon I'll rig up an anti-Higgs boson beam that we can modulate at either 90 GHz or 160 GHz and forever turn them into degenerate matter which can then be sold to mystery traders for plans to up grade parts on our ship!!! God, how I wish I was kidding about that last part.
It's about 90 minutes too long. I'd recommend doing anything else with your time. I still fervently wish some kind stranger had given me this advice yesterday. But unfortunately for me, it is too late. Now all there is left for me to do is wait for the day Rod Hilton finishes his abridged script version.
Solaris is a movie, principally about one of the world's worst psychologists who lost his wife to suicide. Not only is he a psychologist, he is a space psychologist; who, incidentally, makes house calls to other stars. Visitors interrupt his cutting of vegetables. I mention the cutting of the vegetables only because they feel the need to abuse venerable cut the finger run it under water cliche. They don't even dust it off. There's also the almost amusing quirk that, after his wife's suicide, he cuts his left index finger every time he attempts to prepare zucchini.
Anyway...he lives in the far future where doorbells scan irises for identification purposes only, but don't tell you who's at your door, and thus provide a reason to ask, "Who is it?" This is a far future of superluminal travel and communication, and an information infrastructure consisting of two guys hand delivering videos for no reason. The video consists of a dire and pointlessly cryptic request for help, from an old friend.
So it's off to space he goes. Mercifully they spare us a hypersleep sequence. In any case, the set design is particularly abhorrent. The scene is only in there at all to be vaguely reminiscent of 2001. (Not my favorite movie either but vastly superior to this one). We also get to see Solaris. It's bluish purple, and I'm sorry that's as close to a compliment as I can get. Er..Good effort? Now our intrepid space psychologist who makes house calls is wandering around the space station and finds bloody hand prints smeared all over everything. People have been killed! (Including the old friend) In space! Contrary to ones intuition perhaps, the space ship is open and roomy, everyone has a little cabin with a little star trek door, and a plastic space bed with space blanket. Why, this space ship has everything, including a large morgue. And let me tell you a morgue that can hold maybe 40 corpses on a spaceship carrying 4 people, tre luxurious! To say nothing about a ship orbiting in what would appear to be the corona of a star. (I can't believe James Cameron produced this. I don't think I'll ever be able to wrap my head around that one. The same guy that had the fanatical attention to detail, where the locks on the Colonial Marine lockers in Aliens worked, produced this movie.)
Anyway...space psychologist wanders around until he hears gay music, and runs into a quirky space character that won't tell him anything, because it's too complicated an idea to relate with your primitive earth language known as English. Of course this is not too dissimilar from Time Cop, where the answer to, "What's going on?" is in fact very simple though fantastic, but that would shorten the movie by up to half an hour. He then has a conversation with an equally quirky character, we'll call her Token, who doesn't trust anyone despite the fact that space ships are fragile and she lives on one.
Anyway, he dreams of his dead wife, of how much he loved her, and finds himself with her in his space room. A normal person might still infer that he's dreaming and roll with it. Well a normal person isn't the worlds worst space psychologist. So he instead realizes he's awake, has a brief conversation and kills her.
So he wanders around, apparently everyone saw him kill his fake dead wife. Perhaps not a good first impression for a space psychologist to make, but the only people who are left are quirky so its all good.
So he dreams again. She comes back, born anew and unaware. This time they sit. She eventually intuits that she's not who she thinks she is, and further more the space psychologist remembered her wrong. Through some of the great many flash backs we learn exactly how bad the worlds worst space psychologist is. His plan is to bring her back Sam Beckett style and set right what once went wrong. The first quirky guy, Token, our space psychologist and his construct have a conversation. Trekknobabble ensues: Token, a physicist, asks the first quirky guy, tech support, if the apparitions are made of matter. Presented with a yes or no question, he flips a coin. Yes, they are made of matter. Token then muses on how they can generate anti-higgs bosons weakly in the 90 GHz range or strongly in the 160 GHz range and disintegrate them forever. Because she hates them like a super-villain hates puppies, and Christmas. Token then goes on to prove this by telling Rheya, the now undead wife, that the space psychologist can't like her all that much, after all he killed the first version within minutes! Rheya then runs away. Space psychologist briefly looks up says, "Wait...aww screw it" and has a snack.
He finds Rheya she drank blue goop, which we then find out was supposed to be liquid oxygen. He carries her back to his space room, and her wounds heal and she is reborn. They then have a heart to heart. Rheya decides she's not the real Rheya, she's remembered wrong. And to prove how different she is, she's going to use a science fiction plot device to kill herself with anti-higgs bosons, not pills! Totally different. Our space psychologist has found his resolve, no more murder or suicide! His resolve appears to be red pills. An indeterminate amount of time passes quickly, he's now crippled by fatigue and red pills. Rheya is taking care of him, in his space bed; he is sweating. She wanders off to commit suicide. Third time's a charm. She also leaves him a short video note.
The space psychologist has lost. So they decide to go home. But OH NO! They find the dead body of the first quirky guy! He's been an apparition all along!! No one is surprised or interested. This empty shell of a movie long ago imploded under the weight of it's own pretentiousness. The quirky guy then remarks its all ok. Because the fuel cells were depleted by the activation of the scifi plot device, and that said plot device cause jupite^H^H^H^H^H^HSolaris' mass to increase exponentially this ship isn't going anywhere. Better take the Athena. So they do.
The space psychologist is alone on Earth again. He's choppin' broccoli, and cuts his finger again. When he runs it under the water it heals before his eyes. Just like when Rheya drank the blue goop! He is dead people! Bruce Willis chokes on some popcorn, dies, finds himself in the movie and kicks Clooney's R-rated ass. Then he makes out with Rheya and totally air guitars.
We are left to ponder what the half way decent version of this movie might have been like. The credits start and Belinda Carlisle sings softly in the background.
Bah. Everytime someone asks a legal question of the slashdot community some smart alec goes as says, "Get a lawyer, Duh!" How's that help him. What's a lawyer going to do for him that a lot of wild assed guessing can't do? Save his house? Prevent his children from being sold into slavery? Maybe, but that's totally beside the point!
I say, tell the representative of said company, that you didn't copy anything. You just saved the original, because you were intruiged by their offer of a larger penis, and later wrote a web page around it when you found out their offer was less than genuine. So you didn't make any sort of copy, you're just letting people see your original.
What's slashdot comming to when a request for a delusional ranting ends up soliciting sensible legal advice? It's at times like this that I weep for the script kiddies.
One might also observe that she compared physics to sculpting, in so far as one of her talents was "looking at all sides" or something to that effect. It would seem that instead of a typically feminine trait she was just comparing it to other relatable things that other people might be familiar with. Everyone at some point has made a meal for themselves. And I'm sure a majority have at least played with mud, even if they haven't had more formal experiences.
Often times I think the conclusions people jump to tell vastly more about the one doing the jumping than they say about the person being jumped on.
You would think that people who find themselves in the unenviable position of arguing for the death of the analogy would be a little more careful. I'm certainly glad they typically eschew any such notions of caution. Pratfalls are funny. Esspecially intellectual ones.
Regardless of linking to pay sites. I find your idea for a website that anonomously tracks the habits of a Korean gay pregnant man intriuging. I'd like to option it for a screen play. With Arnold Schwarzenegger apparently taking a break from politics, I think the time is right for just this sort of story.
I'm thinking of something along the lines of The Manchurian Canidate meets The Net meets Raw Deal. Karen Mistal could be the vapid love intrest who puts him in a family way. John Ashton the unscrupulous villain. George Clooney the dashing rival. And a cameo by Gary Condit.
Well it certainly couldn't be worse than extreme ops, or half past dead.
Well there are other factors to consider. Irene Ryan is dead, for instance.
At the risk of being obvious. I'm pretty sure 2^8th and 2^12th are still powers of two. Binary being what it is and all.
I can't be sure about Studebakers but in the case of classic Ferraris and Porsche's I'm fairly certain the idea is still to get laid.
When xbox live goes on line and MS secretly moves forward with phase 2, harvesting 5 to 10% of cpu cycles of their subscribers, which they then sell.
Yeah, I know it's not true, but it definately seems like it might have been a good idea.
He used un-modded xbox for extra evil, but he can only run the simulations for 3 to 4 hours at a time before he has to take a break.
Dude. I still play Bandit Kings of Ancient China, KOEI 1989, in sparkling EGA glory, and Stars!. The inavailability of Stars! Supernova Genesis does twist my nibblets though.
To a guy like me you're on the bleeding edge of gaming.
Do you mean Hemmingway's fictional dog, or the geographic feature? Jesus. I'm pratcially illiterate I'm so poorly read, and even I've read at least a couple of the worlds most famous short stories.
I'd be an AC too if I was going to ask such stupid questions.
The difference being: a hostile government won't round up the list of registered car owners, label them "enemy combatants", and take their cars away.
The things that pass for insightful now days.... You have assualt weapons? Morters? A recoiless rifle? A T-72? A MiG-29? Yeah, fat lot of good those seem to be doing those who choose to face off against a 1st world military. One would think that if one were familiar with the "plight" of the so called "enemy combatants", one would also remember that before they before they met their end, whatever it happened to be, they had at least an assualt weapon.
Red Dawn was a movie. Get over it. Hey while you're at it, why not spend some of that free time familiarizing yourself with the first part of the second amendment.
How did Charelton Heston manage to convince everyone that invasion from a Cuba ruled by man-eating movie watching apes was not only possible but likely? That's a lot of charisma, even for a guy wearing a neckerchief.
Voting with your dollar for value, will automatically be counted as a vote against high speed internet service and a vote for unwieldy monopolies that give you what they want secure in the knowledge you're legally obligated to like it. I would like to take this opportunity to tip my hat to Michael Powell, and the thevies at worldcom who played no small role in halving the value of my mutual funds inside of 12 months.
Condalezza Rice and Michael Powell should get together and have the worlds stupidest politician. Through its powers of super nepotism it could grow up to have the diction of George Bush Mk II, the spelling and insight of Dan Quayle, the timing of Jimmy Carter, and the moral fiber of Ronald Regean.
One might even make the case that the marketplace exists only for the consumer, and that producers arrive to service a market based on consumers wants. Using the law to make what consumers want, and find natural, illegal had better have a pretty solid foundation in protecting the consumers and the common good. Plying our virtual oligarchy and fantastically mercenary "representatives" in a doomed attempt to legitimize the point of veiw that I exist for the convienece of the producer, in the interests of capitalism, would certainly give even a dead Adam Smith an aneurysm. Clearly the Wealth of Nations doesn't get sufficent examination by those in power if not the know. What a world we might live in if people really existed so the bakers could sell bread. Everyone a baker, no flour in sight, and that's ok, because everyone hates bread now anyway.
Maybe that's the great failing of capitalism, everything is for sale, including the law. I still trust in its great strength, that everything must eventually yield to the will of the market. But sometimes I wonder. Fortunately, the media executives keep thinking up new incentives to make stealing more worthwhile while simultaniously providing ever more motivation for others to make said stealing, ever faster and simpler. Given all those efforts, which have been so spectacularly successful, one wonders where they could have possibly found the time to both make hundreds of billions of dollars, and ruin radio. We're I faced with so many stunning achivements, I might well consider a move into the political arena. But I digress. My ten year plan to become King of America is a whole other topic.
Sorry, you'll still need the reynolds wrap. X-rays and gamma rays are the so called "death rays". So while we won't need red dust to kick their prissy little xenomorphic asses back to alpha centari, they'll still be able to know where you hide your porn, how many gigs you have, and how it's sorted.
They actually had to write up an enviromental impact statement outlining how unlikely it was that our explorations might destroy the universe. IIRC. I think they predicted that something 5000 lead lead collisions of a similar nature occure every year in the universe. Heh. Humans rock. We beat that by a million times in the breifest of moments. I like to think that's where my tax dollars went.
I'm completely out of my depth, but as I understand the experiment the really vast gold atoms don't behave like billard balls. They are little pancaked discs that have this swarm of virtual particles around them, and when two of these atoms approach each other those swarms interact. That interaction sort of drags on the atoms stealing a little of their kinetic energy. But the atoms are movie so fast they out run this virtual reaction. So there's this little pocket of space that gets that extra energy, a lot of extra energy for it's volume. It ends up being heated to something like 2 trillion degrees, and we get to recreate yet another state of matter (three states my ass!). Not to mention getting a chance to push the universes clock back to something on the order of the first trillionth of a second, or even earlier!
That's just cool.
That's all good, G. Princess Daphne is an LA 10, and has all kinds of time for the listless, friendless loser who really knows how to use his joy stick.
And after I die, I want to be cremated and my ashes poured into the petrol tank of my Doctor.
Amature. When I die I'm going to be cremated and put in my doctors chocolate milk mix.
My porn is realistic enough, now it needs to be sorted, weeded for duplicates, and cataloged. And unfortunately there's too much for a human to do. Come to think of it, maybe the computer could appreciate it too. What was that movie again? Hardware?
Interesting observation. So whatever happened to DEC anyway? Oh yeah.... It's not always the sick or weak, sometimes it's the unaware that end up being prey.
Somehow I think now that Beowulf comments have fallen into disfavor this has risen as the new obligitory funny remark. Karma whores unite to beat the one into the ground before its too late!
There are only 346 earth days left!
Where are you finding your hour long cds. I know they'll hold more than an hour. But the vast majority of my albums top out at 30 minutes. And for 20 bucks you routinely get a 2 disc dvd set with something in the neighborhood of 6 hours worth of extras. But that's assuming you don't shop around and pick them up for between 14.99 and 18.79.
I can't wait to see what movies are like in twenty years after the kids that are growing up to be movie freaks with all this know how laid out in front of them now. Damn, those should be some brilliant stories.