We apologise for this interruption to our scheduled programming.
I'm not linking to it, see? Some fool at the Australian Communications and Media Authority (ACMA) might fine me $11,000.
But if you go to a site called Wikileaks, and search for 'ACMA blacklist', you'll find it. The alleged ACMA blacklist, that is. All those nasty internet sites our government is trying to stop us from viewing. It may or may not be accurate. But it's enough to get really angry about.
Here's why ACMA say I shouldn't do exactly what I'm doing. The proposed compulsory ISP-based internet filter is supposed to 'prevent access to harmful and offensive online material'.
Yeah. Don't adjust your set. It says 'offensive'.
Not 'illegal' or 'defamatory' or 'exploitative' or 'non-consensual'. 'Offensive'.
Well, I'm pretty fucking offended by your internet filter, okay? I'm offended by jerks who want to take all our responsibilities away so we'll no longer be entitled to the rights that come with them. I'm offended by bureaucrats and politicians who think I'm so dumb I can't decide for myself what I'm offended by. I'm offfended by parents who are so weak and seduced by the culture of blame that they refuse to take responsibility for what their kids see on the internet and think the government should do it for them.
The government we deserve, folks. Don't let this happen.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Friday, March 6, 2009
me and my new boyfriend
Me, a slab of Cadbury chocolate, and this guy:
Fwoar. The Prince of Persia. Just call him Prince. And lest I out myself as a total geekgurl (oh, wait, too late) he is one hot dude. Sigh. That dusty grab-me hair. Those bloody blades. That homicidal stare. I've found my next romance hero :)
Explore, if you will, the depths of my geekdom: I deserved a reward this week (small matter of finishing my latest manuscript, go me!). So I hop down to my local EB Games and pick up Prince of Persia: Warrior Within, one of my old favourites.
Geek enough for you yet? Read on.
I get home, already weak at the knees with anticipation. But guess what? The Prince ain't backwards compatible on the 360. More geek points for knowing what that means.
Sob.
So do I return him?
No way. I drive half an hour to the secondhand store and pick up an original console. Just for the Prince.
Must be true love.
Fwoar. The Prince of Persia. Just call him Prince. And lest I out myself as a total geekgurl (oh, wait, too late) he is one hot dude. Sigh. That dusty grab-me hair. Those bloody blades. That homicidal stare. I've found my next romance hero :)
Explore, if you will, the depths of my geekdom: I deserved a reward this week (small matter of finishing my latest manuscript, go me!). So I hop down to my local EB Games and pick up Prince of Persia: Warrior Within, one of my old favourites.
Geek enough for you yet? Read on.
I get home, already weak at the knees with anticipation. But guess what? The Prince ain't backwards compatible on the 360. More geek points for knowing what that means.
Sob.
So do I return him?
No way. I drive half an hour to the secondhand store and pick up an original console. Just for the Prince.
Must be true love.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
they cast who?
Vampires, right? The stiletto heels of the paranormal. People keep saying they'll go out of fashion as we come to our senses, but it keeps not happening, because they're just too damn sexy.
From way back when, I mean. This isn't a new idea. I still remember puzzling over the abridged version of Dracula when I eleven. I wasn't quite sure what was wrong with poor hysterical Lucy, but it didn't sound all bad.
And then high school, and Interview With the Vampire.
Sigh.
Louis, the vamp who put the e in emo before we even knew what emo was. Baffled, beautiful and bewildered with ennui, he wasn't a vamp because he was attacked by a vicious monster or or bewitched by some blood-fanged hellbeast. He was a vampire because he hated his life but was too scared to die when the opportunity came.
Cue a whole generation of romance heroes with heartbreaking fatal flaws.
Louis was gorgeous and he sparked a tradition of angsty, whining vamps who abhorred this life of death and sorrow, yadda yadda, but for inadequately explored reasons never actually get around to killing themselves. But we forgive him because he's the original and the best.
And because, in 1994, we found out he actually looked like this:
Gulp. Honestly. No one really cared whom they cast as Louis because of the furore over Tom Cruise (I mean, OMG, like, he's not even blond, are they crazy? etc. etc.). And then River Phoenix died and people cared even less. I don't know what possessed Them to cast JD from Thelma and Louise as Louis, but that limb? I want out on it.
(Okay, so Mr Pitt had done a little more than that at the time. If you haven't seen it, check out Kalifornia. It's fantastic.)
I actually love the entire casting of Interview. It's crazy, but it's crazybeautiful.
IMO Mr Cruise is perfect. You want to punch him, but you admire him too. And everyone who's read the books knows that Armand is a short chubby-cheeked redhead from Venice. Right?
Al contrario.
Need I say more? And recall, if you will, the collective bated breath in the cinema when this (almost) happened:
Mmm. Anyway. I digress :)
Apart from spawning a generation of Louis-clones -- and are we pleased about that or what? -- Interview is notable also for what it didn't spawn, at least not straight away: a generation of vampires like Lestat. The monster hero who's pretty damn pleased to be a monster, thanks very much, and if I'm going to hell (or not?) I might as well have some fun along the way. It's only recently that we've been inundated with this kind of character.
But more than thirty years (can you believe it?) have passed since the release of Interview, and no one has yet out-emo-ed Louis. No one has out-bratted Lestat.
If only Ms Rice had known when to stop.
Like me. Here.
From way back when, I mean. This isn't a new idea. I still remember puzzling over the abridged version of Dracula when I eleven. I wasn't quite sure what was wrong with poor hysterical Lucy, but it didn't sound all bad.
And then high school, and Interview With the Vampire.
Sigh.
Louis, the vamp who put the e in emo before we even knew what emo was. Baffled, beautiful and bewildered with ennui, he wasn't a vamp because he was attacked by a vicious monster or or bewitched by some blood-fanged hellbeast. He was a vampire because he hated his life but was too scared to die when the opportunity came.
Cue a whole generation of romance heroes with heartbreaking fatal flaws.
Louis was gorgeous and he sparked a tradition of angsty, whining vamps who abhorred this life of death and sorrow, yadda yadda, but for inadequately explored reasons never actually get around to killing themselves. But we forgive him because he's the original and the best.
And because, in 1994, we found out he actually looked like this:
Gulp. Honestly. No one really cared whom they cast as Louis because of the furore over Tom Cruise (I mean, OMG, like, he's not even blond, are they crazy? etc. etc.). And then River Phoenix died and people cared even less. I don't know what possessed Them to cast JD from Thelma and Louise as Louis, but that limb? I want out on it.
(Okay, so Mr Pitt had done a little more than that at the time. If you haven't seen it, check out Kalifornia. It's fantastic.)
I actually love the entire casting of Interview. It's crazy, but it's crazybeautiful.
IMO Mr Cruise is perfect. You want to punch him, but you admire him too. And everyone who's read the books knows that Armand is a short chubby-cheeked redhead from Venice. Right?
Al contrario.
Need I say more? And recall, if you will, the collective bated breath in the cinema when this (almost) happened:
Mmm. Anyway. I digress :)
Apart from spawning a generation of Louis-clones -- and are we pleased about that or what? -- Interview is notable also for what it didn't spawn, at least not straight away: a generation of vampires like Lestat. The monster hero who's pretty damn pleased to be a monster, thanks very much, and if I'm going to hell (or not?) I might as well have some fun along the way. It's only recently that we've been inundated with this kind of character.
But more than thirty years (can you believe it?) have passed since the release of Interview, and no one has yet out-emo-ed Louis. No one has out-bratted Lestat.
If only Ms Rice had known when to stop.
Like me. Here.
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