First, headlines screaming about giant flying inflatable turds descending on innocent children… and now, word that Werner Herzog and David Lynch are joining forces to make a slasher film?! Comrades, this is either the beginning of the end, or The Best Day Ever. Let’s dance!

Herzog + Sophocles + Lynch = EPIC WIN

The two reigning iconoclasts of modern cinema announced at Cannes that they’ll be teaming up to make a digitally shot, guerilla-style murder drama called My Son sometime early next year. Based on a true story, My Son will tell the grisly tale of a “San Diego man who acts out a Sophocles play in his mind and kills his mother with a sword” with the narrative jumping between the murder scene and direct accounts from the matricidal maniac.

Lynch has also announced plans to collaborate with Jodorowsky on an NC-17 “metaphysical gangster movie” starring Nick Nolte, and featuring Marilyn Manson as a 300-year old pope.

What next? Matthew Barney and the Mekas Brothers unite to reinterpret the Ramayana starring Soupy Sales as Hanuman? A pristine print of Welles’ original cut of The Magnificent Ambersons is found under a rock in a Brazilian rain forest? Jerry Lewis finally consents to release The Day the Clown Cried? GIT ‘ER DONE, COSMOS.

Rage, rage! Against the frying of the… oh, nevermind.

It’s only the end of the first full day of SDCC 2008. I’m already shattered. Pray for me.

Once you start down the dark path, salve forever will it dominate your destiny. Consume you, it will!

Good morning, children! Ready for your breakfast cake? You better be, because here in the cave that’s just the way we celebrate a proper Saturday morning. And once your teeth have really begun to grind from the sugar rush, might we interest you in a bit of song and dance? Yes, it’s time for the Hokey Morning Song with Kimba and friends on Kimba’s Cave. Don’t be alarmed, sit back and relax – this show’s for everyone, just like the lyrics say. A word of warning, though: don’t piss Kimba off or he might just get skimpy with the fluffcake.

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Hmm, that song sure had some strange notes.. And doesn’t Kimba look just a bit familiar? Click below for the big reveal that will have you regurgitating fluffcake for hours. With laughter, I mean.

Shining Time Station: Mr. Conductor & his sister in One of the Family

“Most everyone refers to George Carlin as a comedian, which I believe to be slightly misleading. The man was a teacher, with a great gift to pass his ideas and observations through the use of comedy” – vlpod’s YouTube comment on It’s Bad for Ya! – 2008 (Part 7 of 7)

Everyone took a moment today to remember George Carlin. Some people scoured YouTube for Carlin from every era: the scrubbed, black-and-white ’60s Carlin in a suit as Al Sleet, the Hippie-Dippie Weatherman,  the shaggy-haired, FCC-infuriating Carlin performing the immortal 7 Words You Can’t Say on Television of the 70’s, the talkin’-like-he’s-from-the-‘hood Place for My Stuff Carlin of the ’80s, cab driver “George O’Grady” Carlin of the ’90s, and finally, the vitriolic, white-haired, Old Fuck (“not an Old Fart, but an Old Fuck, mind you!”) Carlin of the new millenium. This was my favorite Carlin. Now he’s gone, and the nation is just this much stupider; there’s this much less of a chance for people to question what’s around them. That’s how I felt all day.

Out of all the balding, acerbic little digital ghosts that paced around my screen today, there was one iteration of George Carlin in particular that put me weirdly at peace after a day of unrest. Mr. Conductor from Shining Time Station:

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Until today, I never even knew that this version of George Carlin ever existed. And that’s the thing; we always find ourselves researching people after they’re gone; hitting up their Wikipedia page, finding old interviews, watching clips. So he’s an idea: every week, pick one person who inspires you and research the shit out of them. Don’t wait ’til they die to learn what they’ve been up to, what you’ve been missing out on – be there and support them while they’re still out there. You have the entire internet at your fingertips – Carlin would probably tell you to enjoy that while it lasts.

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As its final scene, featuring the recently departed Charlton “from my cold dead hands” Heston, has become iconic, the rest of Soylent Green is frequently forgotten. That’s a shame, as there’s a damn good dystopian tale in the rest of this oft-referenced 1973 classic too. I, like so many others, had heard about, but never seen, the full movie. Until now.

Observe then, the entire film, loyal readers, for your viewing pleasure. Observe how you’ll know the rich by their bitchin’ ’70s decor and access to hot water. Witness an astonishingly effective combination of whodunit crime tale and dystopian nightmare! See riot cops in football helmets! Thrill to the scarf-wearing sweaty wonder that is Heston in his stilted prime! Wonder how dated-yet-oddly-relevant our own visions of the future may look in 35 years!

Enjoy. The hiatus will end soon.

We thought we were done with these things but we were wrong.
We thought, because we had power, we had wisdom.
We thought the long train would run to the end of time.
We thought the light would increase.
Now the long train stands derailed and the bandits loot it.
Now the boar and the asp have power in our time.
Now the night rolls back on the West and the night is solid.
Our fathers and ourselves sowed dragon’s teeth.
Our children know and suffer the armed men.
Stephen Vincent Benét, Litany for Dictatorships

These days, Stephen Vincent Benét is remembered, when he’s remembered at all, as the author of modern tall tales like The Devil and Daniel Webster, the epic Civil War ode John Brown’s Body or his reams of sentimental young adventure stories. Much of his other work is out of print.

That’s a shame, because after 1935, spurred by fascism, war and depression (his own as well as the country’s) Benét produced a series of brilliantly haunting works, both poetry and fiction. These oft-apocalyptic visions — which he did not hesitate to label nightmares — laid the groundwork for what we often expect the End to look like. Anytime a fictional future humanity looks out over the ruins of familiar landmarks, sees the birthrate tank or gets betrayed by its machines, there’s a debt owed to Benét.

An mp3 of an old radio program based on one of his apocalypse poems:

Click Here to Listen

Venus Wept: “Justice is blind and, apparently, naked.”

Antiseptic is relatively new, and over the past year I’ve watched their designs get more and more complex. Their riveted leather corsets look aggressive by themselves, but when coupled with Venus Wept Photography’s hyper lighting, the augmented sharp edges and textures show you something even more dangerous and pleasurably painful-to-wear. A stylistic joyride that weaves through 80s dystopia chic, medieval armor, medical fan lacing and many other real and imaginary places from different times, the designs owe a debt to alt-fashion predecessors AMF and Mother of London, with Antiseptic’s designers on a fast track to a voice that’s completely their own.

The San Francisco-based duo behind Antiseptic doesn’t seem to be interested in commercial manufacture, and focuses on showing off their designs on runways and in elaborate fashion shoots. Most recently, they staged a fashion show the San Francisco Fetish Ball that brought together some of my favorite models for the first time.

Models, clockwise: Alex LaMarsh, Scar13, Eden and Kumi.

• Antiseptic Fashion
• Venus Wept Photography

The Tyrell Corporation’s shiver-inducing slogan was “More human than human”. Powerful, yes, but Boston Dynamics will not be outdone! “The Leader in Lifelike Human Simulation” leaves no room for speculation – you want the best, you go to Boston Dynamics, buster.

The video you are about to watch is of BigDog – a rough terrain canine simulator so powerful and elegant, it might make you fall in love and prove a cute thing doesn’t need a fluffy tail, big eyeballs [or a head for that matter], or a LOL-caption to be adored.

BigDog is powered by a gasoline engine that drives a hydraulic actuation system. BigDog’s legs are articulated like an animal’s, and have compliant elements that absorb shock and recycle energy from one step to the next. BigDog is the size of a large dog or small mule, measuring 1 meter long, 0.7 meters tall and 75 kg weight. BigDog has an on-board computer that controls locomotion, servos the legs and handles a wide variety of sensors. BigDog’s control system manages the dynamics of its behavior to keep it balanced, steer, navigate, and regulate energetics as conditions vary.

– Boston Dynamics

Sit back and enjoy. At 00:39 is an impressive kicking demo. Keep watching, as this mecha-pup slips on ice and catches itself just like a real animal, but better. Carrying a load of 340 lbs it manages to keep from falling and soldier on until the mission is complete.

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D’aww!

Ahh, do you smell that, citizen? Scientology’s in the air! The Citizens Commission on Human Rights is a Scientology-funded organization and I’d been meaning to investigate their ominous Psychiatry Kills exhibit for years. A sunny Friday morning one day past L. Ron Hubbard‘s birthday seemed as good a day as any for this mission. My roommate, who happens to be 2 quarters away from an M.A. in Clinical Psychology came along.

The lobby felt like a movie set – huge CCHR emblem above a reception desk, lots of white, another CCHR crest inlaid into the floor. We were greeted by an unblinking curly-mopped cherub, signed in with fake names and explained we brought no purses when asked if we minded a bag inspection. The entrance to the exhibit itself was special-effects-rusty with random metal chunks protruding and overall very Silent Hill. The “Abandon all hope…” quote from Dante’s Inferno above completed the look, which the cherub politely asked us to read while thinking about entering the final level of hell. Charming.

Through the doors, a padded room and introductory video featuring doctors and professors, edited in the same sensationalist Fox network style as other Scientology media, statistics and numbers flashing in a rusty and blood-stained font, culminating in the words “Psychiatry – an industry of DEATH”. A wave of blood washed over the screen and it went black. The mood was set.

The museum past the padded room has several sections, each with LCD screens showing 15 minute videos, which I will describe in an almost entirely opinion-free virtual mini-tour beyond the jump.