THE KILLOUGH CHRONICLES | REVIEWS
by James Killough
I know, I was supposed to post on Tuesday, but I’m not sure that properly speaking I had a Tuesday. Well, I had sort of one, but it was in Delhi, which wasn’t really a Tuesday in the West, and we’re on a PST time schedule at PFC. I worked flat-out all day, wrapped my last shoot a half hour before I travelled for twenty-eight hours home, eighteen of which were on a non-stop flight from Dubai to LA. We had to skirt the volcano in Iceland and fly south. The journey would have been more of a bitch than it was had it not been for the fact I was able to lie down and get a good night’s sleep, and gurgle when I was awake like a stupefied baby at the gazillion channels of entertainment on Emirates.
I would even be willing to endure a knee-lift like Demi if I thought I stood a chance with Kutcher.
I was going to blog from forty thousand feet, but I felt more inspired to watch inflight Hollywood crap. Most of the plane was watching inflight Bollywood crap, which just goes to show that even when given the choice, Indians would rather keep it real with the caca; we will never prevail over them with our cinematic pablum.
Most inflight entertainment is crap that has just been released on DVD, which sort of justifies this mash-up of reviews. In the case of Virgin Atlantic, which is more prone to have a selection of quality films side by side with the crap, they will often screen a British film that has yet to be released in the States, or an American one that hasn’t been released in the UK. That’s what you get when a former entertainment company owns an airline: better contracts with the film companies. Continue reading
THE KILLOUGH CHRONICLES
by James Killough
Yes, this is a deliberately provocative title. No, I have no idea how big Zuckerberg’s dick is, but with a bank account that hung, who cares?
Facebook is not for the modern misanthrope, and I am no exception. I don’t care what your mood is, what you’re thinking, whom you’ve tagged, whom you want to overthrow. I understand it’s the hugest, biggest social revolution in the whole wild world ever, and I heartily applaud positive events that it has helped engender, the Egyptian revolution in particular and the shaking of the Arab world in general, out the private middle ages that it’s in. Teens harassing teens into suicide and stuff like that is unfortunate, but not Facebook’s fault; that’s more the bullying culture of America, which needs to be addressed in another manner.
As promised in Baker's post, we give you an image from the Taschen Big Penis Book. See, if I were that chick, I would be covering my mouth to keep from gagging just before I ran from the room.
I have two Facebook accounts, one to promote this blog and a personal one, and I have no idea why I did that because I only go on there to promote this blog, and then I dash off again before the chattering crowds drown me with their thoughts and likes and comments and links. I think I have a combined eighty friends from both accounts, and that really surprises me; I didn’t know that there were eighty people I liked, much less who liked me. And that’s perfectly fine; I have no desire to be popular, no will to amass more friends than I already have.