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Revisited: Australia—one of the worst movies ever made . . .

Revisited: Australia—one of the worst movies ever made . . .

I originally posted this movie review in April of 2009. I revived it this morning and found it so appropriate and so beautifully written that I decided to make it available for readers that may have missed the original post. This movie review is truly a delight to read, and I say that with all modesty aside. How can one be modest when one can claim authorship of such a glowering analysis of a movie that reportedly cost $130 million to bring to the screen?

Oops, I meant such a glowing analysis.

Glowering is an adjective, defined as the work of a saturnine, almost misanthropic young genius. Because I am neither saturnine, young nor misanthropic, I lay claim only to the genius part of that four-part definition, and I reject the other three parts. Click here to confirm the meanings of glowering, saturnine and misanthropic. You can also click here to read the original post if you like, but that should be unnecessary—it’s identical to this post and I haven’t changed my mind, not even one whit.

My original and current opinion of the movie Australia was, and is, as follows:

Having read the reviews of movies made by various reviewers over a period of many years, I have decided to try my hand at the process. This effort was prompted by my having ordered the movie Australia from Time-Warner’s  Movies on Demand.

I sincerely regret ordering the movie. More than just ordering it, I regret that I actually watched about half of it. I regret buying it ($5.99), and I regret watching it because of its poor sound track (fading in and out), its Beverly Hillbillies/Dukes of Hazard musical score, its childish dialogue, its never-ending depiction of (and its fawning over) the vaunted mysticism of the Australian aborigines, its amateur directing, its atrocious acting and its computer-generated images, ostensibly showing Australia’s magnificent scenery—some of the landscape scenes were genuine, but others would rival scenes from the Harry Potter movies. Seared into my brain is the segment showing the cattle drovers galloping their horses at full speed on the edge of a precipice and cattle falling into the abyss—that memory will stay with me forever.

I endured about half of the film before I gave up in disgust. I don’t know how it ended because I didn’t wait for the ending, and I don’t want to know how it ended because I really don’t care. The entire cast and crew and everyone else who was even remotely connected to the movie should be charged, tried, convicted and sentenced to watch the film in its entirety, credits included, for at least 500 of their waking hours (143 times) with their heads clamped in a stationary vise and their eyelids taped (or stapled) open.

Australia is one of the worst movies ever made—it easily qualifies for a spot near or at the top of any Worst Ten list. I have difficulty believing that Nicole Kidman actually earned her nomination for best actress in Moulin Rouge!, and it’s even more difficult to understand why she was awarded an Oscar in The Hours for the best performance of an actress in a leading role. I haven’t seen either of those movies, and because of her silly, superficial and inane performance in Australia I don’t plan on ever seeing them.

However, I must say that I enjoyed her performance in the movie Billy Bathgate, but only the part where she dived (yes, dived, not dove, is the correct past-tense of the verb to dive, regardless of what the dictionary shows) into a secluded waterfall pool after standing, well-illuminated in full-frontal view of the camera, for several heart-thumping seconds before diving—and that scene was enjoyable only because she was sans swimsuit. Actually, she was sans everything—she wore only a smile, and showed considerable evidence of not having used any sort of depilatory preparation. Since the scene did not require the actress to emote in any fashion, she therefore rocked it (she did this scene with Dustin Hoffman watching, and I have envied him ever since).

My rating system for movies consists of ten stars, with films being rated from zero to ten—the more stars, the better the movie.

Australia earns a well-deserved zero.

That’s my opinion and I’m sticking to it.

 
9 Comments

Posted by on December 13, 2010 in Uncategorized

 

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For those that like the taste of spam . . .

The purpose of this posting is to give my viewers a look at some spam that should be recognized with an Oscar for the best poorly written commercial essay. It is the purest gobbledygook that I have ever been privileged to read and the most convoluted English I have ever seen. It is at times almost incomprehensible—this one is a winner and will never be relegated to second place in those categories.

I apologize to any viewer that may be dismayed by my putting a spam item, one that sells women’s shoes, on my blog. I almost trashed it, but then I started reading it and I was mesmerized! I’m not kidding—it’s commercial spam but it’s expressed in a way that electrifies—in fine, it is a commercial essay that would win, hands down, any contest whether local, national or world-wide, on how to most effectively mangle the English language. This essay is amazing, astounding, electrifying and mystifying—I challenge anyone to find its equal or to write anything close to its equal.

One can only begin to imagine the author of this commercial agonizing over the zillion ways for one to express oneself in English, poring over a dictionary, thesaurus and a book of grammar, striving mightily to describe shoes in such a manner that women readers will be incited to drop everything—laundry, dinner, doctor and dentist appointments and the baby, and rush out to buy several pairs of each model.

And now I will do a bit of racial profiling, a technique in which I excel—after all, I was a federal law enforcement officer for 26 years, and I always used racial profiling in my duties—nothing else could explain the high number of arrests and seizures I made while pulling duty on our border with Mexico. Take that, Obama! Take that, Homeland Security!

I will say with a high degree of certainty that the author is of Chinese extraction with ties going back to whatever dynasty was first in China—I suppose that would be the First Dynasty. I will further speculate that the shoes are manufactured in China. I welcome any challenge to the accuracy of my profiling.

Click here to view the shoes—all in all, it’s a decent web site.

This is the posting, exactly as I received it:

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Right?

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That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!

 
3 Comments

Posted by on July 7, 2010 in Uncategorized

 

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Delphiniums and Al Gore . . .

Hey, since you’re already on my site, why not click here to check out my About the King of Texas? As I promised when I began blogging in March of 2009, I have expanded it, and I welcome comments on that expansion. And if you’ll click here, you’ll find lots of stuff about me that you really wanted to know but were afraid to ask.

Now on to this posting featuring a purple delphinium and Al Gore:

Earlier this year one of my three princesses, the one that lives, loves and works in Virginia, posted a gorgeous image of a purple delphinium to her Word Press blog. The photo was so beautiful and I liked it so much that I spent a goodly amount of time composing a comment to express my liking, and I used the comment to express my opinion on a certain figure that looms large in our political scene, so large that at times it raises my ire and restricts my view. I’m unsure why the delphinium directed my thoughts to global warming—perhaps I felt that if global warming is a reality, there may be no purple delphiniums in our future.

Click here to view a delightful delphinium with a plethora of pulchritudinous purple petals (I really love alliteration!)  http://cindydyer.wordpress.com/2010/02/26/fridays-eye-candy/#comments.

With full realization that one’s memory tends to wane as one ages, I do not believe my daughter has read my comment, so I am making it a separate posting on my blog. I’m bringing it out of the shadows of comments and into the bright light of its own posting. My humble opinion is that my comment deserves wider dissemination, and my ego requires it—nay, demands it!

Here is my original comment on the purple delphinium, and I welcome comments on my comment:

Your photographic representation of a purple delphinium finds me and leaves me at a loss for words adequate enough to praise its beauty. I can only say that it is NOT disgusting, grotesque, hideous, homely, offensive, plain, repulsive, ugly or unattractive.

As an afterthought, I suppose I could say that it is admirable, alluring, angelic, appealing, beauteous, bewitching, charming, classy, comely, cute, dazzling, delicate, delightful, divine, elegant, enticing, excellent, exquisite, fair, fascinating, fine, foxy, good-looking, gorgeous, graceful, grand, handsome, ideal, lovely, magnificent, marvelous, nice, pleasing, pretty, pulchritudinous, radiant, ravishing, refined, resplendent, shapely, sightly, splendid, statuesque, stunning, sublime, superb, symmetrical, taking, well-formed, and wonderful, so I will say it—in fact, I just said it.

As you well know, I face the East every morning and bow in homage to a giant, one that resides in the East—no, not the sun. I bow to a giant that is normally quite garrulous, a towering presence in all our media sources, but for some strange reason has fallen silent in recent weeks, a silence coincidental, perhaps, to the nation’s recent record snowfalls. Be that as it may, while bowing I repeatedly chant, “Al, baby, you’da most!”

My humble bow to that giant and my paying homage to Him (note the capital H) is in recognition of the fact that He is a giant that, for various actions ranging from beneficial to nefarious with all impinging on our society, will remain a giant unless discredited, and will be firmly ensconced in future annals of American history.

That giant is Al Gore, of course, the One (note the capital O) that foretold the extinction of our planet due to global warming caused by mankind, and for that prescience, that foresight, that knowledge of things before they exist or happen, had a Hollywood Oscar and a Nobel Peace Prize bestowed on Him.

Let’s face it—in his prophecies, Al Gore rivals Nicodemus!

In the interests of full disclosure, I must admit that I am deeply indebted to Al Gore for his invention of the internet—were it not for that prodigious discovery, I would really be at a loss for words—my comments on your blog postings would be reduced to words and phrases such as oh boy, great, nice, wow, okay, right on, you go girl, keep it up, make it happen, give us more, etc., etc., etc.

And also in the interests of full disclosure, I must reveal to your visitors from across the world that my compensation from you is based on the word counts of my comments praising your work, and varies in direct proportion to the number of words—fewer words less money, more words more money.

“N’uff said, or is that more than enough? Can you really afford me? Have your people call my people to discuss different terms of compensation.

I know, I know—I have far too much time on my hands!

 
2 Comments

Posted by on April 22, 2010 in Uncategorized

 

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32 Czars & counting—we need one more . . .

Our government now has 32 czars, each charged with oversight of a different segment of life in the United States. These positions are filled by people selected by unknown means, but some of whom admittedly know nothing about the segment over which they hold sway.

I suggest that President Obama appoint a Phart Czar. Were I the president, my selection would be a former vice-president—Al Gore.

Al Gore is one of the major causes of global warning. He is consistently, in the words of the bard, “hoist with his own petar.” Some of the bard’s analysts suggest that the phrase is a play on words and refers to the fact that the persons mentioned are lifted aloft by their own flatulence (see explanation below). In Al’s case, he is lifted by his own hot air, primarily generated by his pompous proclamations concerning global warming.

For now, the former vice-president seems to be a necessary evil, about which little can be done—it’s just something we will have to tolerate. Perhaps his appointment to the position of Phart Czar will add a bit of weight to a couple of his lightweight awards—the Oscar awarded by Hollywood and the Nobel Peace Prize.

Here I must digress for a moment and offer my thanks for a site that is a great source for writer’s tips—check it out at http://www.dailywritingtips.com/hoist-with-his-own-petard/.

The information that follows was gleaned from that site:

Here is how the expression is used in Hamlet (III, iv, 206-208):

For ’tis the sport to have the enginer
Hoist with his own petar, an’t shall go hard
But I will delve one yard below their mines,
And blow them at the moon.

A “petar” was an explosive device. It got its name from the French verb pêter, which means “to break wind.” The Old French noun pet means “fart.” Shakespeare was making one of his earthy puns here.

Another major cause of global warning, other than Al Gore—one that can be addressed and perhaps eliminated, or at least reduced—is the methane gas emitted by animals. This is the vast amount of flatulence produced by livestock, primarily cattle (cows). In 2005 the United State’s livestock population, including cattle, was almost 96 million—this would include horses, mules, sheep, swine and other lesser animals (lesser in size, not necessarily in the amount of methane expelled into the atmosphere). Of all the animals, those in the know tell us that cows are the worst offenders (I don’t know how that was determined, and I’m not sure that I want to know).

Our country needs a Phart Czar, one who can evaluate the situation, determine methods of controlling such emissions, and exercise control over such emissions by implementing those methods. The Czar’s duties would include intensive measurements of emissions collected from various breeds of cattle. It could be that Jerseys (cows, not people) emit more methane than the Holstein breed, for example. Armed with that knowledge, the Phart Czar could concentrate on reducing the Jersey population (cows, not people), or perhaps if deemed necessary, eliminating the breed through attrition (of Jersey cows, not people).

However, I believe that our major problem is not necessarily with the lower order (so-called) of animals. A corollary problem is methane—flatulence—produced by the higher order (so-called) of animals. That order is the human race, and that problem should be addressed immediately.

To my knowledge no effort has been made to measure the contribution to the atmosphere of methane generated by the herds of humans in our country—in concentrating on animal production we may have completely overlooked our own contributions. The estimated population for the United States in 2008 was almost 304 million human pharters, more than triple the number of livestock in the nation.

Who knows? Our collective contributions to global warming may approach, equal or even surpass that of livestock.

This should be the Phart Czar’s immediate concern—to determine the depth of the problem and make recommendations to reduce the output of something which, apparently, is detrimental to our health and to our future.

Who would have thought that such a normal function of our bodies could be harmful? Certainly not I. In fact, there is a little ditty that many of my generation learned at our mother’s knee and frequently recited over the years. It’s one that the U. S. Air Force officer who established the Wellness Clinic at Wilford Hall Hospital used as the opener in all his speeches promoting the program.

It goes like this:

Beans, beans, good for your heart,

The more you eat, the more you phart,

The more you phart, the better you feel,

So let’s eat beans every meal.

This would be the most sensitive part of the Phart Czar’s job:

Any analysis of the problem must—I repeat, must—include race. The amount of flatulence, as well as its olfactory and auditory effects, is in large part influenced by diet. Some foods promote the production of methane—examples are beans, onions, diary products (especially milk) and let’s not forget one of the worst culprits—broccoli. There are those among us who eat far more beans, broccoli, dairy, etc., than do other segments of the population and therefore should be so judged and subjected to intense scrutiny and evaluation, and corrective action taken as deemed necessary.

Of course, over time through on-hands management, diligent investigation, development of corrective measures and prompt application of those measures, the Phart Czar may find that other foods and other segments of the population may generate as much, or even more, methane gas. No one, including vegetarians, pescotarians, etc., can be exempted—all must be scrutinized and evaluated.

I also suggest that significant stimulus money be provided to persons and companies involved in the study of enzymes (some of which may reduce unwanted digestive issues). In theory at least, new enzymes could be developed that would significantly reduce or even eliminate flatulence, both in humans and in the so-called lower classes of animals. As we all know, flatulence is involuntary and therefore not the fault of the animal, whether human or otherwise—it’s the bacteria in the animal’s colon—they are the culprits—perhaps under the direction of the Phart Czar, a new strain of bacteria could be developed, one which could continue to make its necessary contributions to life without producing methane gas.

One can only hope and dream.

There is, of course, a downside to the complete elimination of methane emitted by living beings—some of us, and perhaps some of the animals, are not strongly disinclined with the conditions which presently exist.

And finally, this is why we need another czar—a Phart Czar:

According to Al Gore, time is of the essence.

As an aside, I recommend that those who invest in the stock market take a careful look at Beano, a product that is said to counter, or at least reduce, the effect of beans in the production of methane in humans. It may be found that by the simple introduction of Beano into beans and other foods, either in the growth process by injecting Beano into the seeds or in the preparation of beans for retail to the public, both uncooked and cooked—a good place to start would be in the vast numbers of restaurants, particularly fast-food restaurants—that feature beans in virtually every dish offered to the public. One of the bean side dishes offered with many entrees is an ultra-delicious culinary delight—it’s called re-fried beans, an item that should be considered particularly suspect for its contributions to the cumulative deleterious effect of flatulence discharged into our atmosphere.

The makers of Beano claim that it counteracts the adverse effects of beans on the human digestive system (for some of us but not all), and offer compelling testimonials to its favorable action. I predict that Beano will in the future change the lifestyle of many people, perhaps propelling (so to speak) some into the rarified air of millionaires, provided that investors get in at the bottom (so to speak) and invest in the product. However, I must in the interest of full disclosure reveal that the product does not work for me.

It makes me phart.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

 

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Australia—one of the worst movies ever made . . .

Having read the reviews of movies made by various reviewers over a period of many years, I have decided to try my hand at the process. This effort was prompted by my having ordered the movie Australia from Time-Warners’  Movies on Demand.

My review of Australia is as follows:

I sincerely regret ordering the movie. More than just ordering it, I regret that I actually watched about half of it. I regret buying it ($5.99), and I regret watching it because of its poor sound track (fading in and out), its Beverly Hillbillies/Dukes of Hazard musical score, its childish dialogue, its never-ending depiction of (and its fawning over) the vaunted mysticism of the Australian aborigines, its amateur directing, its atrocious acting and its computer-generated images, ostensibly showing Australia’s magnificent scenery—some of the landscape scenes were genuine, but others would rival scenes from the Harry Potter movies. Seared into my brain is the segment showing the cattle drovers galloping their horses at full speed on the edge of a precipice and cattle falling into the abyss—that memory will stay with me forever.

I endured about half of the film before I gave up in disgust. I don’t know how it ended because I didn’t wait for the ending, and I don’t want to know how it ended because I really don’t care. The entire cast and crew and everyone else who was even remotely connected to the movie should be charged, tried, convicted and sentenced to watch the film in its entirety, credits included, for at least 500 of their waking hours (143 times) with their heads clamped in a stationary vise and their eyelids taped (or stapled) open.

Australia is one of the worst movies ever made—it easily qualifies for a spot near or at the top of any Worst Ten list. I have difficulty believing that Nicole Kidman actually earned her nomination for best actress in Moulin Rouge!, and it’s even more difficult to understand why she was awarded an Oscar in The Hours for the best performance of an actress in a leading role. I haven’t seen either of those movies, and because of her silly, superficial and inane performance in Australia I don’t plan on ever seeing them.

However, I must say that I enjoyed her performance in the movie Billy Bathgate, but only the part where she dived (yes, dived, not dove, is the correct past-tense of the verb to dive, regardless of what the dictionary shows) into a secluded waterfall pool after standing, well-illuminated in full-frontal view of the camera, for several heart-thumping seconds before diving—and that scene was enjoyable only because she was sans swimsuit. Actually, she was sans everything—she wore only a smile, and showed considerable evidence of not having used any sort of depilatory preparation. Since the scene did not require the actress to emote in any fashion, she therefore rocked it (she did this scene with Dustin Hoffman watching, and I have envied him ever since).

My rating system for movies consists of five stars, with films being rated from zero to five—the more stars, the better the movie.

Australia earns a well-deserved zero.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on April 19, 2009 in Uncategorized

 

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