Headache, maybe because it’s so grey today. Is my head “me gulliver?” Anyone know what a gulliver is? Clockworks reading this? Well I’ve got a pain in it, whatever it is.

In times of heightened work activity, I rescind the no-scone rule, and read comic books on my commute, because they are easily digestible (like stomach lining). Quick, tactile pleasure-experiences are more approachable psychologically than long-term storytelling or higher-brain analysis. I get up in the morning or get home at night, and Porno Guy is still watching porno… how did we never notice this? This much porno, this much of the time? though now he has drawn his blinds; they block about 45% of the porno, which still puts a generous 55% porno out into the world. Like a beacon for smutty superheroes, called forth by video images of penises on a screen large enough to make them the size of rotweilers. To the pornomobile! What do porno-superheroes fight – chastity? Or even worse depravity? I guess they could do both. They hold the middle ground.

The headline of today’s Metro (Toronto’s free transit rag) is simply “Math questioned.” I suppose the idea that the entire concept of mathematics was brought into doubt is amusing enough, but I rather prefer the notion that someone did away with Geography, and Math was brought into the station house for interrogation under the hot lights. But they let Math go (there was no motive). Math’s reputation is not what it once was but until Math does it again, Math goes free. This is justice?

Let the right one in… to your home! Last year’s vampire classic (last year’s only vampire classic) comes out on shiny blu today. Own it before that Cloverfield guy remakes it. Me, I’m gonna snap it up after drinks & apps with the work folk at Kelsey’s (yes Kelsey’s), and then go home and watch Yet More Lost, which is the other only thing my brain can handle in times like these.

Posted by tederick at 7:44 AM in 1701 & comix & jedi antics & sex (theoretical) & shinybludisks
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Transitioning... transitioning... while the domain nameservers are switching over I have no email, and through strange coincidence my phone is not taking incoming calls either. Unexpectedly hermited, I am enjoying some peace and quiet. I wonder if the blog will even work in this new, strange server. Well I guess we'll find out momentarily.

Now don't get creeped out, but: I have large windows looking north on a series of apartment buildings, and so rather naturally I gaze out over the vista while, say, talking on the phone and/or ruminating upon things. Now I noticed, just randomly, that on Valentine's Day, one of the individuals in an apartment opposite mine was watching pornography on his very, very, very large television. The television faces the window, and is very, very, very large, and as such (from my vantage point) it essentially is the window, for all intents and purposes. And that window is porn. It was so on Valentine's Day, and now inevitably every time I gaze out on my vista, my eyes are drawn back there to see what's the what now, and it's porn. Lots, and lots, and lots of porn. It's amazing to me that with only the naked (heh) human eye, one can discern porn indisputably from over 1000 feet away. I wonder, had I a much larger television and more than a passing interest in porn, if I would also have my television face the window so that I would be beaming my porn out into the cosmos like my apartment-facing neighbour. I'm not so sure. I've never quite removed myself from the 12-year-old boy gut-feel that porn is something to be secreted, hoarded, and absolutely never admitted to in any tangible sense. Porn is for dark corners, not 60-inch plasmas.

That newfangled HDTV Simpsons opening credits, though, that sure as fuck is for 60-inch plasmas. It was very exciting right up till I realized that this is, demonstrably, the moment that The Simpsons has inextricably jumped the shark. They must now demonstrably be within seconds of being cancelled. Like that year of The X Files with Anabeth Gish and the T-1000. Sweet, merciful cancellation. Can you believe The Simpsons went twenty years? And only about three of them sucked?

Hey - if you saw Medicine for Melancholy at the festival (or elsewhere) (and if you didn't/haven't, you really should), check out the interview with Barry Jenkins on this week's installment of The Treatment with Elvis Mitchell. (The Soderbergh one from a few weeks back, too, is fairly kickass.) Additionally, there's a new Mamo that doesn't seem to be syndicating correctly, so check that out too.

This week was long and complex and performance-reviewy, and I am tired and have yet to get into my whiskey as was promised to me by me, about six hours ago. I'm sure we have much to discuss, like why Dollhouse sucked so bad, but we will have to talk about it later.

Posted by tederick at 8:49 PM in 1701 & movies & podcastery & sex (theoretical) & simps & tederickdotcomdotcom
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Some days are Jack Daniels days, and Jack Daniels (generally speaking) is little more than sour mash by way of shite. Today the Teet got one over on me again; what I cannot understand is

1. why they refuse to admit when the system has broken down, and
2. why (if the system breaks down every 2 days like clockwork for the entirety of December-March) they don't have a series of processes and procedures in place yet.

Every single time is like it's the first time it's ever happened; pandaemonium reigns in the streets. Nobody knows the answers, information is unavailable, phone calls have to be made. Guys - the system breaks every 48 hours. WRITE A MANUAL ABOUT IT OR SOMETHING.

While entombed in the rolling ball of vomit that is a TTC shuttle bus in winter (all windows fogged to utter opacity as it dips, weaves, and spirals through rush-hour traffic), I read this article about research into female desire being conducted at Queen's University; many comments about Queen's relationship to sexual research have been made on Facebook already, so I shall not add to the pile. I will, however, say that when leafing through the digest-sized bits of information that is the New York Times mobile site (i.e. what you're reading when you're reading it on your BlackBerry), I considered what the digest-sized information squirt of a typical tederick.com entry would be. I think it would go like:

• TTC complaint
• Sex article and/or concern about the end of the world (could be shortened to: sex and/or death)
• Comics discussion and/or Lost theory
• Comment on weather and its relationship to mood.

Alternate with occasional film reviews, Mamo! postings, and pithy rejoinders about cyberspace anomalies, Batman, or work stress, and you've covered the gamut.

Today I started my 200th journal. The very first one, I believe, was started in the summer of 1989 when I was 12 going on 13 years old. As I recall, it concerned my thoughts about my family, some information about Woogie and G.I.Joe, and some Andrian Mole-esque commentary on my progress through puberty. So, as you can see, little has changed.

Posted by tederick at 6:20 PM in i hate mac & jedi antics & sex (theoretical) & tederickdotcomdotcom
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Not only is Chinese Democracy actually coming out on Sunday, not only can you actually listen to the whole thing right now on MySpace to prove it, but the Dr. Pepper thing is actually happening too. Get your free Dr. Pepper coupon for 24 hours starting at 12:01 a.m. on Sunday morning.

Do it even if you hate the substance, because they owe us, man. They owe us for 1994 through 2008, man. They owe us for the last three tracks of The Spaghetti Incident? and the first two tracks of Lies. They owe us for the rock n' roll.

Here's where we're at as of this week:

• The TTC makes me so angry I want to punch chickens
• Werner Herzog's Nosferatu does not suck
• Harmful to Minors turned out to be a surprising page-turner
• I would be indebted to anyone who knows where I could find peppermint-striped pieces of 8 1/2 by 11 paper.

Meanwhile, here's an experiment you can try at your job. Don't turn your computer on. My computer ate its brain on Tuesday night and it took security and tech support a stupendous quantity of time to stop scratching their ass holes and actually fix the problem, so I spent Wednesday morning computerless, and was inspired to go the entirety of the day in like kind. I'm an e.learning guy. I needs me some computin'. But just leaving that godawful box in a drawer and sitting on the other side of my desk, working only with my phone and a piece of paper, was relatively liberating. I had my feet up a lot of the time, and I looked out the window somewhat, and I listened to music. I had useful conversations and stirred shit up. Give it a try, if only because when the apocalypse comes, you won't have your computer anyway. Be more of a pirate than not, is all.

Cleaning clown-goo off my fingertips and looking forward to an anniversariffic weekend.

Posted by tederick at 11:19 AM in books & i hate the ttc & j-o-b & miscellaneous crap & movies & pirates & sex (theoretical)
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The headache started yesterday at around 3 p.m. and by the time I got into bed at midnight, I actually couldn't lie still. When I left for work it was a railway spike through my left eye, and when I came home from work it had moved over to my right eye. It is impervious to painkillers, reducing only to a dull thrum at the best of times, and even then leaving me like I've been electrocuted and left to cower. I hate this headache. I hate it like a living thing. Now I'm on the couch in my bathrobe watching Deepa Mehta's episode of Young Indiana Jones, and I desperately wish I had some ginger ale.

Let's look at what I can see from here.

1. Here's the Watchmen poster, which I like quite a lot.

2. Here's an interesting (and obviously, highly upsetting) legal case against a person who knowingly infected women with HIV and is now being charged with first-degree murder. I had wondered when something like this would happen, and whether it's legally sustainable.

3. With a hefty SARAFINA DO NOT CLICK ON THIS LINK, here's the Season Five promo for Lost. Hoooooooooo-cheeeeeeeee mama. That doesn't suck. I'm in quite the Lost frame of mind lately, what with S working her way through season 2 for the first time right now. If we time it out right, we can step into season 4 on DVD in December and then straight into the new season. Though "timing it right" rarely applies with that "play all" button on the Lost DVDs.

4. Finally, the indefatigable Roger Ebert - that man is more and more becoming my personal hero, no matter how many slap-fights he gets into - gets into a big fucking mess about publishing a review after only watching 8 minutes of a movie, here, here, and here. I've done it too, more than once, though I (unlike him) tend to think a walkout is line one of a review, not the punchline, if only because it is as clear a message of a film's worth as any one can conjure in prose. But then, I am not professionally employed in the field, and I am also of somewhat sketchy morals when it comes to signing the practice log. Fascinating discussion and insights, regardless.

Whoa, Indiana Jones just learned about Shiva for the first time. Criminy.

Posted by tederick at 7:44 PM in 4-8-15-16-23-42 & ebert & miscellaneous crap & movies & sex (theoretical)
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Well it took longer than I expected, but some insane crimanal bastard finally figured out that Christian Bale and Kermit the Frog are the same person. So I guess the jig is up on that one.

I'm bored as fuck so let's play, what are people searching for at Tederick.com?

On Google, the keywords are almost an even split between things related to vaginas, and things related to penises. So at least we have some equality among the sexes there. I'm also getting some of the usual hits for Toht, an inexplicable upswing in hits looking for information about Destro, and a new player on the table, being searches related to lesbian Voyager fan-fic between B'Elanna Torres and that Borg woman. Only worth mentioning in that I don't think I ever wrote any Voyager slash fiction. Truth told, I don't think I ever wrote any slash fiction at all, but I've got the memory of a half-eaten grapefruit.

On the site itself, the items most frequently called up in the blog-searchin' box are TV shows that I don't watch (30 Rock appears frequently), items related to Harry Potter (everyone seems to be trying to find something about Horcruxes on this site, but fucked if I know what), and a few disturbing references to ex-girlfriends or people I used to know. Amusingly, someone just searched for "What else has been going on?" cuz maybe they thought I'd just answer them back.

Anyways.

Posted by tederick at 1:31 PM in miscellaneous crap & sex (theoretical) & tederickdotcomdotcom
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I feel goddamned odd, dizzy and oddly-perspected. My head feels like a gaping space where a migraine would be if I weren't popping Advils like tic-tacs right now. This might have been generously helped along by the coconut rum and Terrifying Girls' High School: Lynch Law Classroom last night. More likely it's just be the up-and-down-and-cawayyyyzy weather. After all, last night also featured Magic Oven pizza, and a lot of girlfriendly adorableness. Those things don't cause headaches.

Fun fact: did you know that the median human penis size is smaller than the average human penis size? (The median size, for those of us who slept through middle school, is the number right in the middle of the scale - i.e. if there are 1,000,000 penises, the mean-sized one is the one at number 500,000 on the scale.) So basically what this information tells us is that the majority of men on the earth have a penis that is smaller than what the textbooks and Dr. Sue tell them is "normal." I think this explains an enormous number of things, not least of which being why every single episode of Sex With Sue contained at least one male caller phoning in to ask if his penis is "the right size." Let's round up and say, six times out of ten, those callers went away feeling inadequate. Then they built churches.

I took one for the team and tried the Angus burger at McDonalds earlier this week, and also choked down a Starbucks breakfast sandwich this morning. Something bad has happened to the meat products of the planet Earth. All in all, it has not been a good week, food-wise. I feel like my insides have been scraped out by a melon-baller, and I sorta just want to sleep for a year.

Posted by tederick at 12:04 PM in foodin' & sex (theoretical)
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Or no-reason phone calls, or neon green midnight martinis, or quips about ear infections. Or somethin'.

Everybody's suing everybody! All the awesome movies are fucked! Doctor Who is playing Destro! Phew, what a morning. Money is not important, Hollywood! It only matters when it's coming to me to spend money on stuff and rings and whatever, NOT HOBBIT-BLOCKING PROFIT-MONGERING you bastards!

Y'know, oldschool Destro would make a hell of a Hallowe'en costume. If you could figure out a way to do the head. And have a big yellow bubble that reads "Destro THE ENEMY!!" floating over your head at all times.

These days I receive what can only be called a stupendous quantity of penis enlargement offers. In and around all the "beat her womb with your massive erection" and "impress the entire football team when your shlong hits the shower room floor" subject lines, however, there is a thin curtain of need that makes it all seem so sad. Thing about the teensy, tinsy penises on all the miserable little men who write those junk mails. Theirs is the real pain.

Posted by tederick at 10:42 AM in movies & pj's playground & sex (theoretical)
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Well, it's the next-to-last mail day before the party, and the crowning element of my Hallowe'en costume has yet to arrive. Which is pretty disappointing. But of all the elements of this thing to have to improvise, this is the one I've got covered off regardless, so I guess there are worse things. Still - !! You would not believe how cool this one particular thing was going to be. (I will show you next week, whether it arrives or not.) Oh well. I guess it could still arrive tomorrow.

Otherwise, I bench-tested the rest of the motherfucker just now, and god damn. As I think I've said before, there is absolutely no one who is going to be impressed by what I've done here, other than me. But I am so fucking proud of this deal. And I've got the strut down cold.

What else happened today? Well, we shot Daniel's second and last segment of VCR: The Ninth Gate for one thing, and Daniel taught me a new word: defenestration. Oh, I love it. I think it is one of the loveliest words I have ever heard. I wish I had known of this word from the moment we first conceived of this VCR decalogue; it might have been the title for the whole deal. At the very least, I'm going to have to slip it into the credits for VCR10y. And possibly every other thing I ever write for the rest of ever.

After giving it some more thought, I realized vis a vis the Dumbledore situation that I agree with this guy, at least on the macro scale: there is something morally cowardly about what went on here, and not just the after-the-last-minute outing. But after even more thought on the subject, I also realized that for all my desire to have Dumbledore be the perfect queer icon that the fantasy universe deserves to have, the pieces don't really fit. I didn't give one passing thought to Dumbledore's entire lack of a sexual or romantic life when he was (de facto) heterosexual; I don't see why the sex life of a 115-year-old man should suddenly need to be foregrounded when that sex life involves other men instead of women. This is all part of a very complicated idea, but at least part of this idea bears the veneer of reverse homophobia. So I think a) we had better leave this alone now, and b) Rowling shouldn't have bothered in the first place. Putting this on the table just showed how desperate the table is. It would be nice if any one thing could ever just mean one thing, but that'll never happen. Forcing mandates upon icons just makes them fall down. And good lord, Michael Gambon must be getting weary of his picture being the very meaning of "THIS MAN IS GAY!" this week.

Moving over to the next franchise, I read the end of The Golden Compass today and am now into The Subtle Knife; whoever hypno-whammied Phillip Pullman into supporting the excision of the last three chapters of Compass from the film that shall shortly bear its name should be cast off the highest cliff on all of Svalbard. The bear fight is not the climax of Lyra's arc in the first book. Good fucking lord. Basic screenwriting, people.

Anyways, based on how much finishing Compass got to me today, I am going to be a snivelly, weepy mess when Spyglass dwindles down, a few hundred pages from here. Doing this in the fall might have been a grand, beautiful mistake.

Posted by tederick at 10:36 PM in books & h-pot & movies & pirates & sex (theoretical) & tederick films
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I just saw the best film of the entire festival. Wasn't expecting that. XXY was just supposed to be something I gulagged to my Saturday night come-down period, which has now ended up trotting into my brain and saying "Yeah. I live here now; you just rent." It's the London to Brighton spot in the schedule - I suppose I should have seen this coming.

XXY is the best film about gender identity I have ever seen. When your kids ask you what straight and gay mean, this is the film you show them to teach them that none of those words mean anything. I'm not going to say anything more than that because the tight construction and impeccable plotting are really what make this thing tick. But It is my sincere hope that it will receive a Stateside release and be seen by everyone, everywhere, on the planet. Fucking phenomenal.

Before the Devil Knows You're Dead was pretty decent, too, especially if you're into Marisa Tomei getting doggie-styled by Philip Seymour Hoffman in a Brazilian hotel room. (Hey, who isn't?) Plus it's just a pretty damn good movie. Hard for me to tell on account of that everyone around me in the balcony at the Ryerson was being a complete and utter dick about the proceedings, but whatever. I spared their lives.

I came out of XXY so fucking thrilled I just had to walk around the block a couple of times listening to music. The sun had just gone down, the last rush line was still standing outside the Varsity, and a few moments of perfect serenity settled over me. Man, this was one hell of a summer.

Posted by tederick at 7:31 PM in sex (theoretical) & tiff 2007
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Weather in Toronto: overcast, with a light drizzle; coolish. Yurt proximity: close without overlapping. Left ass cheek: numb. Last shit: 36 hours ago. Films down: 15. Films to go: 35.

Right after I wrote that last post last night, Matty Price and I sat down in the line for Nothing is Private and started recording a Mamo - only to have the show brought to a thundering close when the line started moving out from under us a few minutes later. The rather hilarious result is a little something we like to call show #94, Juno Interrupted. And I remain strong in my recommendation of Juno to everyone. So happy. Except that every time I focus on it, I experience a tidal wave of pain. So I'm not gonna do that.

Nothing is Private, a whole other story. Didn't bring my box set because that would just have been too damn complicated, but yeah, Alan Ball was there and so was Two-Face. (Batman is going to kick his ass.) The movie tried really hard, and as a result came out feeling a bit overcooked - it was still really really good in a whole lot of ways, but given that the subject matter asked so much of its audience (being the complete sexualization, both consensual and not, of a 13-year-old girl), it needed to be a little bit better to really get past the squirm factor, which was considerable. Still, I can't deny that some pretty important work was done here. In Juno last night (I swear I'll stop talking about this soon), Juno's parents, upon finding out about the pregnancy, say something like "what kind of girl are you?" and she just says "I don't really know what kind of girl I am." I think that's a fairly remarkable point for a young person to make and I think it needs to be made more. Something similar went unsaid by Jasira in Nothing is Private, when grown-ups kept calling upon her to specifically define her relationship to things (pornography, menstruation, virginity, sex) that she had only limited experiential knowledge of, and almost no referential context whatsoever. We really do a nasty job of forcing young people to figure their shit out on almost nonexistent information and minimal experience. Couple that with an adult's foolish tendency to think that kids don't want sex, and the fact that (in this movie) only Toni Collette can be called upon to exert any kind of moral reasonablity when dealing with a young person's burgeoning sexuality while everyone else just behaves as irresponsibly as an adult dealing with young people possibly can, and you've got Aaron Eckhardt making with the back-door statutory. It isn't fun. Flick was pretty as hell, phenomenally challenging, reasonably important, and didn't quite stick the landing - which makes the whole enterprise flawed. Hell.

Thought I'd take yet another opportunity to pimp my red-eye reviews of each night's Midnight Madness over at blogTO, because I think it's fairly impressive that I'm able to write anything halfway coherent at 3:00 in the morning. Diary of the Dead last night was the first time my ability to hang on to lucidity really started to slip, but I got through it all right. In fact, I got more sleep last night than I have in a while and came out bright and early to do a follow-up Mamo (yet to be posted) with Matty Price. Then we saw The Orphanage - sort of difficult for me to get into, on account of how as far as I'm concerned, if you buy an abandoned orphanage in the middle of nowhere that was once inhabited by a pack of kids who mysteriously disappeared (one of whom wears a leg brace), you pretty much deserve what you get. The audience reaction was spectacular, however, and when things started getting really scary and you could just hear everyone freaking out, I had a tremendous urge to just yell "AW, SCREW THIS!", throw my skirt over my head, and run screaming for the emergency exit. It would have fit the mood.

I have said "Welcome to Toronto, dumbass!" to two separate people in the last 24 hours, both of whom demonstrated that they had no idea the film festival even existed. One of these days, I'm gonna get shot.

Posted by tederick at 2:42 PM in blogTO & podcastery & sex (theoretical) & tiff 2007
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Oh, how I wish Pirates of the Caribbean 3 was on DVD right now. I've got some whackshit Swedish version (Swedish pirates, yarrrrrr!) but it's goddamned crapulent, and every other version I tried to swipe turned out to be porn. Pissbucket.

So as most readers know, George W. Lucas is my hero and I do every single thing I can to be exactly like him. As such, I have decided that fan demand has finally reached the pitch where I must go back and fill in the blank pieces of the story of my most successful big-screen saga: the VCR movies. Yep, production on VCR 5.1 started this week and I'm hoping to get VCR 9 at least halfway out the gate before the end of the summer. That'll put a decalogue screening on target for Christmas. It feels right. It feels big. It feels like time. Wait'll you see the Jar Jar character: will blow your mind. Fucking technology, man.

Working from home today - the tail end of Toronto's heat wave, and still nary an A/C at 3QF - was not my most brilliant idea ever. This heat is really fucking me up. Not a lot of sleep this week, and now I feel like I've got an all-over sunburn, all the time. So it's been a bit of a weird mental space lately. I got fairly Sideswiped late in the day but there was no help for it; the rest of the time I just telecommuted away fiendishly on the coffee table all day (more air in the living room than upstairs) with the Play All going on Invader Zim. S'allright.

"Do you think guys like me can just get laid and reproduce on our own? No. Fuck no. It takes years of systematically breaking down the self-esteems of young women, of filling their heads with impossible expectations and then leaving them empty and hollow with a void that only booze and an endless string of faceless cock can fill." - Massawyrm's scathing and rather brilliant excoriation of Bratz, the Bratz movie, and the entirety of American culture

Posted by tederick at 8:21 PM in movies & pirates & sex (theoretical) & tederick films
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I am officially 100% tired of listening to my neighbours have sex. At least the dude seems to be picking up a bit of skill; a couple of months ago he could really only be counted on to give her a short pounding; now he seems to last a solid five or six minutes, but the inevitable downside to that for me is that I have to listen to that shit for longer, and the sympathetic vibrations on the longer time scale send crap flying off my shelves like you wouldn't believe. Also they're way up with the conversation during. She's going at him like a traffic cop. So there you have it, women of the world: communicate your needs, and boy may actually learn a thing or two. Nobody enjoys working in a vacuum.

On Saturday night I went to a BBQ that involved a farting baby and setting off fireworks in a hospital quiet zone. All of which would have been hilarious except that I am on no beer until after Heart & Stroke, so... less hilarious. Oh beer. (I will, naturally, have a bit of rum at world's end on Thursday.) Then on the way home Saturday night I managed a rather spectacular DF (that's detest-fest for those not down with the '94-era lingo) and burned out a buncha negative crap that had been accumulating in the old noggin. So that's... good? I don't know. Saturday nights can be pretty spectacularly lonely times, especially when you're surrounded by people.

See - even right now - Pizzazz and Megatron and Big Fuckin' Hermione are waving around like John Milius on a surf board because the damn neighbours are at it again! Dammit I hate when my blogging gets inadvertently explicated by real-life occurances before I even get to hit "Publish!" Fucking Victoria Day sex. I used to have Victoria Day sex, you know... back during Queen Victoria's actual lifetime, mind you. ZING!

Last night we had a terrific soccer game against a solid team which we worked up into a 4-4 tie; I let at least one of those goals slip right through my legs so I'm irritated about that, and I had a good scoring opportunity that I completely failed to capitalize on, but otherwise it was awesome times all around. Cold as a witch's teat, though; Teen Girl Squad pitched a tent in the back yard last night and I'm sort of curious to see if they'll turn up dead this morning. This is not V-day weather. I got myself the perfect pizza (anchovies, artichokes, mushrooms, green olives, thick crust, garlic parmesan base sauce), wrapped myself up in warmies, and watched Dead Man's Chest till the wee hours.

Hermi Odle slobbers here. It's not over yet.

Posted by tederick at 9:57 AM in jedi antics & sex (theoretical) & sockey & toys!
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Joss has snapped, and like the useless little sycophant I am, I'm right there with him. I have lately perceived a subtle shift in the anti-women fervour in North America (what Inga Muscio calls cunthatred) from the baseline repressive technology that it has been for the past, say, two or three thousand years, to something that feels even more dire and desperate. I think this is because of an equilibrial shift brought about by the realities of modern economics. Marriage has become pretty much irrelevant in a society where every member can generally hold a career and support themselves (and children) financially, so control of female sexuality/reproduction is in jeopardy of falling somewhat out of male domination for the first time since the stone age. I say jeopardy, because it hasn't happened yet, and if Bush and his like get their way, it won't for a long time. Shutting down abortion is essential to this, as is shutting down gay marriage, as is shutting down anything that is even linked to the notion that a woman can choose to have and raise a child on her own. Speaking directly to the "torture porn" point, I do believe a strong psychological need has grown up in the United States to view elaborate fantasies of brutal domination of women, as a kind of psychic vengeance for womens' successful movements towards equality in the past hundred years. (The lead characters/victims of Hostel 2, naturally, will be three American college girls... who are studying abroad, to add a bit of free xenophobia atop the preexisting misogynic engine. But I also think Spider-Man 3 justifies the American presence in the Middle East, so what do I know.) We're still very much in the beginnings of a time when there will either be a tremendous amount of positive change that will rewrite the landscape of how our societies work (taking heterosocial relationships as the baseline of all current societies today), or a phenomenal backslide into sex-based despotism that would make the Inquisitors blush. Obviously I'd prefer the former, and I also know that nature abhors imbalance. Some treaty will need to be reached.

Posted by tederick at 8:40 AM in joss & movies & sex (theoretical)
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Four U.S. states veto cervical cancer vaccine for girls, in yet another link I have stolen from Jocelyn this week. Shameless! This one's on the grounds that supporting the program would encourage promiscuity, and is strongly emblematic of the entire American thinking process: guns don't kill people (people kill people), and that pesky human papillomavirus is the thin tumoury line between a girl saving herself for marriage, and total teen sexual anarchy. (Total Teen Sexual Anarchy: the name of my next comic book?)

Obviously, I think vaccinating girls against the virus that causes cervical cancer is about as close as our species gets to the divine, and by the same token, I am obviously unsurprised by the American unwillingness to embrace this life-saving concept, due to their national apoplexy on the realities of teen sex in the 21st century. Nevertheless the cost vs. rewards issue (mentioned at the bottom of the article) is also worth considering as a debate point. We're still in the early going on the whole thing, but hopefully this can get worked out soon enough that we can start knocking these cancer stats down a bit.

Posted by tederick at 9:07 AM in sex (theoretical) & vagina fridays
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No matter how many times it happens, I am never ready for the fat old Pakistani woman who fucking near rugby-tackles me in her efforts to board the RT before any of the passengers can get off. One of these days, that bitch is going DOWN.

Buncha folk (Demetre, D-Coc, B-Gold, DaveChris, me, someone named Alison) went to see Hot Fuzz last week. Let us glory in the power of the Dalton, and the three words of excellence: "THISSHHHHH REARRRRRY HURRRRRRRSS." I am all about the Dalton right now. He's my favourite James Bond. (Along with all my other favourite James Bonds.) Dalton was the first new Bond introduced in my lifetime, and Living Daylights is just I-don't-care-what-you-say kickass. Not that Daniel Craig isn't still my actual Actual favourite James Bond, but who knows how long that will last. And I was looking at On Her Majesty's Secret Service a couple of weeks ago and I love that Lazenby guy, too, because he's just such an unrepentent prick about the whole thing. I guess the secret of the James Bond Fantasy Mechanism for Men is the degree to which 007 can be a lozenguli twattus and not only get away with it, but get all the fucking perks for his trouble: the Aston with the stitched-leather interior, the designer martinis, the Beluga and the Bollinger, the Eva Green. Do you know what James Bond would do to an RT-crashing old women? He would fucking kill her. And someone would just hand him a drink and say "good show old boy."

During Hot Docs, I somewhat inadvertently (by way of forgetfully) bought so many packets of gum that I was literally finding them in every pocket of every piece of clothing I wore for the entire ten days. I could build armour out of the fucking things. It is a period of time we now refer to as the Gumming Frenzy. Fortunately, I have chewed my last as of today, and a bajillion plastic gum-blisters are on their way to the eco-netherworld. Let us never speak of gum again.

Spielberg + Jackson = Tintin? What kind of goodgy math is this? I read some Tintin when I was a kid because my grandparents inexplicably had it at their house. You know what it was? Boring as all fuck, that's what.

Here's an ugly idea: 12-year-old girl sues school after being forced to watch Brokeback Mountain. Leaving aside the debate on whether homosexual content should be slapped with an R that heterosexual content might not have received - I'd say tone and content more than support the Brokeback rating - when did it become okay to show R-rated films to a grade school class anyway? When I was in grade school they showed us The Wizard of Oz, not Schindler's List, even though the latter could very easily be justified under educational content. Even if education was the intent here (and somehow I doubt it), 12 is pretty goddamn young for spit-and-slap impromptu bum-play. Besides, at that age can't we show them stories of happy gay love instead of unbelievably tragic, repressed, unfulfilling gay love? Give them something to shoot for?

Posted by tederick at 8:25 AM in movies & pj's playground & sex (theoretical)
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Well folks, I've spent the last two days slamming through a sudden, unexpected work crisis, or as I like to call it, a CRISI-TUNITY! God I am so positive. And after landing the entire procedure on the tarmac with a degree of precision that would make a Swiss watchmaker proud, I am also very tired. Here's a masurbating kangaroo.

I WANT TO BELIEVE.

Posted by tederick at 8:45 PM in j-o-b & sex (theoretical)
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Kirk & Spock: Closer.

Jay & Silent Bob: The Fucking Short Version.

God dammit I gotta get St. Paddy's Day laid.

Posted by tederick at 1:18 PM in askew & sex (theoretical) & tv
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I don't know why, but this really turns me on. Fuck Philly, I gots ta get me to Ohio.

Yesterday I went round and round with a headache from the moment I woke up, and even though it never fully descended, by 2:30 in the afternoon I felt like my entire perceptive set had been shifted a quarter-turn to the left. I guess that means I won the battle but lost the will to live. I didn't feel quite right again until this afternoon after I had a steak burrito. What's the connection between near-fatal migraine duels and protein? Because this was not the first time I've noticed this effect.

Today Adam and I went to the robot fights! If you have the means to spend a Saturday watching robots fight, I highly recommend it. It was a little like watching Spellbound actually, in the "how could this possibly be interesting" factor turning into me screaming and shouting at the top of my lungs for two straight hours, and becoming righteously indignant when my robot ended up losing.

There was a badass robot called Juggernaut (might as well have been called I'm The Juggernaut Bitch) that pretty much dominated the competition, having been built out of a motorized wheelchair and bearing a pair of hooked fangs in the front of the transom that could dig into its opponent. There was a pair of sisters who had a robot apiece (a pink trapezoid called Pretty in Pink and a green cube called Baby Hulk) who were forced to fight one another in a horrifying display of Sister Against Sister. (It was the hottest thing I've ever seen. If you have the opportunity to see beautiful robot-building sisters duke it out by robotic proxy and then hug afterwards, do it. I mean, what more could I possibly want in this life than a girl who is gorgeous, friendly, clearly not averse to the machine shop, and builds killer robots? I mean seriously. I think I've just figured out What I'm Looking For In A Woman.) There was a robot with actual spinning saw blades on the front, that attempted (and failed) to do enough damage to Pretty in Pink during their match to disable it, and failed. Pretty in Pink took some nasty scarring on her hood, and then turned around and kicked the other robot's ass. Oh yeah, I loves me that pink robot and her robo-hottie mistress.

Anyways. Remember when I wrote that thing about CAYA and they gave me a whole bunch of free loot including a porno movie proclaiming to have the world's first zero-G cum shot? Well I was doing some spring cleaning this morning and I found that tape, which I was going to chuck unseen but then I figured chances like that don't come along often so I should at least have a look at it. Well first of all scrolling through a 2 hour and 20 minute porno on VHS is about the most mind-dulling thing ever. Second, all they did was turn the fucking camera upside down while the dude ejaculated. So fucking disappointing. Where's the technology, porn industry? Where's the effort?

"Mr. Gibbs, I feel sullied and unusual." - Captain Jack Sparrow

Posted by tederick at 9:11 PM in blogsphere & jedi antics & sex (theoretical)
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I am starting a new initiative: promoting the use of "lesbian" instead of "gay" in derogatory expressions regarding something's stupidity. So instead of "that's so gay," now you'd say "that's so lesbian." I feel it is important that we heterosexual white males oppress all sexual minorities equally. I'd like to achieve a 50/50 split on the uses of "gay" and "lesbian" in the popular lingo of retarded 14-year-olds expressing their displeasure, before 2012.

And don't get me started on what I want to do to "retarded."

Hey that almost rhymes, it could be a new rap song.

Don't get me started
on what I wanna do to "retarded"
hey I think I farted
that's how this got started BREAK IT!!

Yes. This is what we call "procrastination." I am currently in the calm between two storms, obligations-wise. Today I am just spending the day writing project plans. It is pretty nice, and it reminds me of my old life. But soon, soon my daytimes will be consumed again by the Wrath. And then who knows where the winds will take me? I'm also trying to move some ground on Portrait and Captain Napalm and the secrets movie so that I don't get caught pants-down come June.

As part of my mini non-vacation I went home last night and watched two movies. Unrelatedly they both turned out to be black and white. I watched Mouchette and then Good Night and Good Luck. The former was almost overwhelmingly upsetting for me and one of the best films of any era I've seen in quite a while. The latter, on the other hand, seems to eclipse on the small screen any reservations I might have once had with it. That flick is fucking scotch. I think I should watch it every two years for the rest of my life.

And I rather think I should make a black and white movie this year. Black and white looks nice. Yesterday I came up with what I think would be a decent little 2- or 3-minute documentary on comparative cultural mythology that I could shoot if Matty Price end up going to Philadelphia for ID4. I don't think it's necessarily a black and white movie but it's a movie. I am coming up with movie ideas a lot more frequently these days than I have been of late. I wonder if that's a sign of progress or one of desperation?

Posted by tederick at 1:14 PM in movies & sex (theoretical) & tederick films
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1. Three out of ten men would abstain from sex for life for a million pounds. Perhaps they're misunderstanding the meaning of the word "pounds?" (Additionally, one must admit that such a claim is fairly easy to make on this end, and fairly easy to break once the cheque clears. A million pounds [how the fuck do you make the pound symbol on a Mac?] pretty much buys you Shanghai's entire red-light district.)

2. Womens' sex drive drops 40% once they feel that they have "secured" their partner. I've been referring to this article a lot in the past few months so I thought it only fair that I actually post the thing. I've also been doing a lot of thinking lately about what I think is becoming a post-marital society, i.e. the way social and economic structures shift once marriage is no longer really "necessary" in the traditional sense. Now that we (in the West, anyway) can all hold down jobs and raise children in pretty much any combination of family structure we want, what place does marriage hold - besides being representative of a kind of unattainable ideal of romantic love? And given that procreative strength has always sat with the women and has only been occasionally dressed up as somehow belonging to hererosexual marriage, I would think the coming century is going to completely flip the norm on what makes a couple a couple.

While we're on the subject of large, large things, Al Gore was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize on the exact same day that the scientific community announced climate change to be unstoppable and that we're just going to have to live with the fact that the nature of weather on earth is going to change radically for centuries to come (provided we live at all). I feel an enormous amount of affection for Al Gore, probably solely to keep my brain from having to deal with the other thing, which is... well. I'm glad beyond words that this is finally something that makes the papers on a daily basis rather than a dirty little secret being kept out of the public eye by the worst kind of governmental vagrants. But it doesn't make it any easier to wrap the head or the heart around.

Posted by tederick at 7:23 PM in goddamn politics & sex (theoretical)
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Intercourse Pooch

Sounds like a damn good idea for a cartoon series to me. Intercourse Pooch! Making the world safe for dog congress, one leg-hump at a time! No asshole too fragrant, no lipstick too glossy, Intercourse Pooch points a swollen cock-ball of dog-semen right at the heart of villains who would try to rob the world of its right to doggie-style sex, for animals and humans alike! A sexual position so popular it transcended genus and became the centrepiece of the entire pornographic art, Intercourse Pooch is the mascot for rear entry everywhere!

Humping your leg on Fox this fall!

Posted by tederick at 10:48 AM in sex (theoretical)
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It's worth noting that in Jesus is Magic when Sarah Silverman dances like an ape to show that Jews are sexy, she looks exactly like my ex-girlfriend.

Tonight (and based largely on my last entry) I closed the loop on two very, very, very longstanding filmmaking projects... in script form anyway. I wrote two scripts, each ten-ish pages in length, that I literally can't believe popped out of my head in the form they currently inhabit. You know what actually made the difference? They were fun to write from a pure craft perspective - they were the writing equivalent of a good round of jumping jacks. And after having been relatively blue in the last couple of days with the holidays and whatnot, writing those two drafts completely recharged my sense of self (which must, therefore, have been what was lacking). Mmmmm self. Sensey, sensey self.

I am delinquent on today's vagina post but instead, here's Brandy's banana-holder. Yes, that is actually what this is:

in spite of what it also looks like.

And to balance out the giant yellow cock, here's the 3QFmas tree all bedeckled with holiday finery:

Whoa this post turned out less focused than I'd planned. Sorry.

Posted by tederick at 10:45 PM in 3QF & photoblog & sex (theoretical) & the process
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Oh, I really did.

So I am now officially the sole surviving writer of Tn'O. Jenny quit the other day. I am trying to find a few new co-'s, because this is way too much of a job for one man, especially one man with my sex life. Hopefully the column doesn't have to go away because as per our blogTO meeting last night, it's getting MAD hits - my Lost Girls post scored second or third for November, and Jenny's various titillations have been huge scorers so far too. Yup, mention sex and everybody comes a-runnin'. Pervy! But I guess regardless, I get to stroke "write a sex column" off the list of 100 stupid things to do before I die, so whatever.

Yesterday I got my brother some temp work at my office. That was my good deed for yesterday. Today I gave away the Obi-Wan figures I was talking about. That was my good deed for today. Tomorrow I shall SLAY THE INNOCENT!! to balance the karmic scale. Or maybe I'll just eat a pastry, I haven't decided yet. Anyways things have damn well drained completely dry here at work this week. There are less and less people here by the day. Yesterday I took a fifteen minute soccer break in the elevator bay with my company soccer ball, which turned out to be a surprisingly effective way to reinvigorate the brain's ability to solve problems. It's like Mom always said: exercise is good for you.

Anyways, I am now officially going on record and saying that ILM is lying when they say they made Davy Jones 100% digitally. I'm sorry, but it just doesn't track. They're saying they never used Bill Nighy's actual eyes, that everything you see on screen is CGI... but it's just way, way too sophisticated and way too consistent for the state of the current art form.... even when compared against the other digital creatures in the same shot with Jones. My theory is that they are lying to the media in an attempt to bring the Oscar back to ILM for the first time in the 21st century. And if so... YARRRRRRR!! they be pirates.

Mmm. Pirates and rum at my place tonight!

Posted by tederick at 1:28 PM in j-o-b & movies & sex (theoretical)
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Brian K. Vaughan came this close to being Tederick.com's Man of the Year. I'm going to spoil you on that much. Between The Escapists - which included inspirationally today with issue #6 - and Pride of Baghdad, he's easily got a lock on being the writer (in any medium) I enjoyed the most in the calendar year '06... and that doesn't even include, of course, my darling baby loveyface, Runaways. And I haven't even started reading Y: The Last Man yet, for fear that it will completely devour my life. I'm waiting another few months on that one. Yup, in the year where I went from being a burgeoning comic fan to a full-on comic enthusiast, BKV was pretty much The Guy. But Man of the Year goes elsewhere this time 'round.

And I read Superman For All Seasons in its entirety today and could almost declare it the best Superman story ever. (Almost.) It certainly increases my enthusiasm for this Superman Confidential deal, even though Sale's art is the only connection there; I'd show up to see that guy draw Lois Lane anytime. (And man howdy, did For All Seasons make me want to dive right back into Smallville in a big way, if only to see La Kreuk. But then I remind myself that the show... oh... sucks.)

Posted by tederick at 7:23 PM in comix & sex (theoretical) & tederickdotcomdotcom
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Hair colour is determined by the ratio of eumelanin (black/brown melanin) to phaeomelanin (red melanin) in the outer layer of the hair. So, if you've got more eumelanin, you have darker hair. If you have more phaeomelanin, you have lighter hair. If you have no melanin at all, you're FUCKED! But here's the kicker: melanin ratios VARY in different parts of the human body! Betcha didn't know that! So that's why sometimes when you're doing the usual canvas survey of all the naked boys in the locker room, you will be surprised to see that blondie has a brown bush, or that ol' red ain't so red "down there" where the Lord split him, if you know what I'm saying. GENERALLY SPEAKING, pubic hair will be darker than head hair, though no one's exactly sure why the ratio tilts in the downward direction instead of the other way around. Also sometimes people DYE their head hair which throws the whole thing completely out of whack. That's why I like to use pubes as the ONLY guage of what a person's true hair colour is, because dying pubic hair is like nailing diarreah to the wall: it can be done but it's fucking messy. BEWARE!

Posted by tederick at 9:53 PM in sex (theoretical)
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I stand by what I said: I don't like Grey's Anatomy. It is emblematic of the "sustain sustain sustain" problem that is destroying television drama. It is also the best modern example of this ludicrous over-dependency on building and breaking "will they or won't they" romantic tension as the sole driving force for drama, as has been the case with almost every show in a post-Friends, post-X-Files world. (Boy, it's amazing how in recent years X-Files has become the watershed show by which I seem to evaluate all current programs. Every success and failure can be directly rooted back to the X-Files as a mid-90s prototype for 21st-Century drama. Lost, Heroes, Grey's, House, to say nothing of direct knockoffs like Bones or Supernatural, all owe a nearly insurmountable debt to Chris Carter... who, ironically, could never put another show together post-X.)

As such I didn't watch the Grey's threesome show, but probably should have. I find the very concept of a three-way on American primetime in a post-Boobgate world to be thoroughly fascinating. Aside from Peter and Lois arming up in black PVC to dom-sub themselves into sweet sexual ecstasy on Family Guy, the concept of kink (if a three-way can even be called "kink" any more) does not exist on American television. Besides which, in its way, the threesome is actually the perfect structural antidote to the current romantic malaise of the American television drama. Instead of having endless parades of Jack-Sawyer-Kate triangles dancing before our eyes for seasons on end, just throw the offending parties into bed for a little harmless, consensual group sex, like at the end of Y Tu Mama Tambien where the boys realize they'd rather be sucking each other. You telling me Sawyer's disposition couldn't be significantly improved by working out his ya-ya's on a bit of Doc cock?

Naturally, the overhyped Grey's event turned out to be far less than was advertised, cloaking the kink in the ever-safe blanket of dream sequences and platonic bed-mating, the latter of which has been a plague on our screens since two twentysomethings pretended to be pubescent teens on the verge of a platonic break on Dawson's Creek. In a world where the cartoons are having way better sex than the flesh-and-bloods, this isn't surprising, and in an industry where the Standards & Practices goons will castrate a show long before it can be formally censored, Grey's bears the ick of all current media contradictions about the big bad world of sex: that it's okay for them to sell you on it, but wrong for you to want it.

Posted by tederick at 10:05 AM in sex (theoretical) & tv
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Keisha Castle-Hughes is having a baby, which is news, but far more fascinating is taking a quick tally of which news sites give that information with an image of KCH as she appears today (buxom and maternal), and which ones accompany the story with a snap from Whale Rider (pre-pubescent and scrawny) to create a subtle condemning undercurrent of a "HOLY CRAP A TWELVE YEAR OLD IS PREGNANT!!" angle for their story. Additionally, almost all of the stories point to the fact that she's playing the mother of god in the upcoming Nativity movie, but none of them point out the delicious irony that the whale rider has lapped the Virgin Mother for at least one significant human activity. Ah, sweet American sexual hypocrisy. They can tart up their tweens in "PORNSTAR" tank tops but they can't keep sex ed in the schools to save their lives. Good on ya, KCH: sixteen year olds have sex. A lot.

Meanwhile, to slip into some sublime objectification for a moment, there has been no better shot in the history of television than Sawyer's POV of Kate leaning over in that dress. Hoo-man. Me and Chad had to rewind that one.

But why give us Trixie if you're only gonna take Trixie away?

Heroes: what the fuck is going to happen when Shaft gets out of that motherfucking bed?!

I finished reading Watchmen today for the second time. On the whole it's definitely time for me to get back into some novels for a while... all these comics are rotting my brain. I took a rather enjoyable lap through the Chapters last night after dinner and discovered that they've got a storybook/DVD available of Henry Selick's Moongirl, which is the short I fell off my ass in love with at Sprockets this year. But they didn't have a copy of Kavalier and Clay. What? I bought Ecstasy and The Little Girl Who Was Too Fond of Matches instead, and shall read them first.

But boy, if this wasn't a bad week to be reading Watchmen, what with the impending nuclear war and all. Also, apparently, I now agree with Veidt. I don't think I agreed with Veidt last time, but this time everything he said and did seemed perfectly reasonable. Did the Great Eye do that? Am I the wrong kind of superhero now?

Posted by tederick at 10:45 PM in 4-8-15-16-23-42 & books & comix & movies & sex (theoretical) & tv
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Here's a site that pairs random Nietzche quotes with Family Circus cartoons, resulting in surprisingly compelling insights into human foibality. And also occasional gasps at just what a dork that guy was.

And on the other side of the sphere, here's a study that does away with the "it takes women a lot longer to get aroused" theory. At least when it comes to watching pornography, which, let's face it, arouses us all. Sort of amazing that no one twigged to the fact that the results of previous surveys might have been skewed by the measuring probe sitting uncomfortably in the womens' vaginas. Me, I can't get aroused when I have a Q-tip in my ear. It's a problem.

HEY--did I mention that I went without a sex drive for a full week recently? It was fascinating. I was a flatline. Not a single erotic thought or impulse for, like, six full days or so. That hasn't happened in my life before. It happened just after I turned 30. Related? Doubt it actually, more likely just wasn't eating enough bran.

Posted by tederick at 3:35 PM in miscellaneous crap & sex (practical) & sex (theoretical)
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I have spent the last ten minutes not writing this post, because I had a really good title for it earlier and now I can't remember what the fuck it was. This is some new level of infuriating. GAHHH!!

Anyhoo. Lost. I was close, right? Not so much a '50s town but a bucolic suburban la-la-wood nonetheless. So I was off by a couple of decades. So what. Did you see that look Kate gave Sawyer? Hells with that, did you see the look I gave Kate's right boob in that dress? Yes you did.

So let's see... like dear Becca, I am now officially going to be (co-)writing a sex column. It's for blogTO and it is as yet nameless. It will be weekly and it will be myself and two others writing it. We may call it T&O (thanks Sameer!). The original idea was to do advice style stuff but now that's looking like a no, so instead it'll be Toronto-centric sex-related gabbing on a regular basis, with enough personal stuff to make the people who have actually had sexplay with me blush with rage. (Or possibly, no one will ever come near me again for the rest of time.) It's all still very much in the planning stages but I'm taking a moment to stand back and marvel at the fact that I actually achieved this.

Marvel.

I spent over a hundred and fifty dollars on clothes today and bought absolutely nothing that I actually wanted. Does that seem proper? Stupid business casual. The stuff I bought today was just supposed to be the "necessary" stuff that I had to get through before I could get onto buying a few things for my own enjoyment. And I blew the whole damn budget on it. This is why I fucking hate shopping and fucking hate clothes. (Okay. I bought a ludicrously expensive pair of boxers that really were just for me. Me, and someone I want to show them to. But otherwise, fuck garb. Fuck it hard.)

The T-storm woke me up early and I went in to work early and left work early and just now I caught sight of myself in the mirror and actually had cause to remark out loud, "Man, I look like shit." I am just dog tired. Starting to look forward to my trip out of town a couple of weeks hence, though... makes a nice parcel of time for me to cut through. And so far, October's been brilliant.

Posted by tederick at 11:10 PM in 4-8-15-16-23-42 & miscellaneous crap & sex (theoretical)
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