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The Angry Traveller's Guide To Obscene Hand Gestures

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Check these babies out...

http://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2011/09/the-worlds-rudest-hand-gestures/245238/#slide1

Don't Give A Shit

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Why am I a teacher then?

Hello, I'm David Bowie

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Avoid movies with Bold, Red Uppercase Fonts

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When work feels overwhelming

Why You Should Download Movies

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Installing Freedom

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Arseclown

That Charming Man

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“I am letting you into the secret of all secrets. Mirrors are gates through which death comes and goes.”

Orphée (1950)

Happy Jack

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Star Wars Kid

If I had a kid, he'd be like this.

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I would ace this version

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Things That Pissed Me Off Today. Episode I

In no particular order.

1. I had to go back to work after 7 weeks holidays.
   
   
2. Had a PD Training session on exactly the same shit I had to do last year. The highlight of the day was watching two, poor quality YouTube videos, both of which I had seen years earlier. One of the videos claimed that My Space had over 200 million users - it was that old.
   
   
3. I was forced to sit through a poorly designed PowerPoint presentation which contained "Lime Green" titles in Comic Sans font with a body text a mixture of Times New Roman and Helvetica.
   
   
4. It was a lovely day today. Sunny, but not too hot, a light breeze and birds were out making the most of it. That didn't piss me off. Sitting in a room facing big windows while listening to bullshit and looking out on a lovely day, thinking about my brand new PS3 at home did.
   
   
5. The title "Intercultural Awareness Iceberg." WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN? It's almost like... I don't know. We had to draw on a picture of an iceberg and place some shit where we thought it belonged for some reason or other. I didn't perform this task. Instead I drew on a Post-It note a cartoon of a Velociraptor saying "RAWR" at a Brontosaur instead. I couldn't find it when I came back from a break. *Sigh*
   
   
6. My mum lives in Townsville, Queensland. There is a Catergory 5 cyclone on it's way there. I called and texted her. No reply. My sister lives in nearby Townsville. She texted back saying she was OK and in Adelaide with her baby daughter. My brother in law was staying behind, but was on his way to a shelter. I got home and called and texted mum again. No reply. I texted my sister to see if she knew where mum was. Mum's in New Zealand. On a Boat Cruise.

Escherlator

Cool Man or Coolest Man?

Alain Delon. Coolest Man in History.

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	Franncois de Roubaix - Le samourai .mp3

Le Samouraï (1967) August 2, 2008 via Film Journal

Director: Jean-Pierre Melville Main Cast: Alain Delon; François Périer; Nathalie Delon; Cathy Rosier Territory: France/Italy

Contract killer Jef Costello (Alain Delon) carries out a hit on a nightclub owner during opening hours, and is spotted upon exiting the crime scene by the house pianist Valérie (Cathy Rosier). However, when rounded up for a police line-up by the Superintendent (François Périer), Valérie denies that she’s ever seen Costello. Reluctantly, the police release him, keeping him under surveillance until they can get proof. Pursued by both the police and his employers behind the hit on the nightclub owner, Costello is also curious as to why the pianist didn’t give him away…

When you consider that this is apparently Johnnie To’s favourite film and John Woo practically gushes throughout the booklet of the Criterion DVD release, you’d have thought I’d at least have heard of this film. But it wasn’t until a fellow Hong Kong film fan mentioned him in this very blog that I became aware of the existence of Melville and Le Samouraï. Certain things are beginning to click now though, like why Chow Yun-Fat was always referred to as the Alain Delon of Asian cinema. Well, Chow Yun-Fat loses out on the style stakes but it’s not really his fault – the 60’s were a much more stylish era than the 80’s and I’m looking to get me a fedora and trenchcoat in the vain hope of pulling off a Delon.

Despite Jef Costello’s unquestionable cool, his lifestyle is not too enviable. He lives in a hovel of an apartment with a canary as his only companion (and even here, you get the impression he only keeps the pet because it serves a practical purpose). There are no diversions in his spartan flat, and the only thing that comes close to decoration is a collection of empty mineral water bottles on top of his wardrobe. His only real contact in the human world is his “alibi” Jane Lagrange (Delon’s then-wife Nathalie), but he treats her so casually and indifferently you can’t tell if they are friends, lovers or just working together as a means to an end.

The film has style outside its main star, though, and the film has a chic that was only achievable for a short space of time in the mid-to-late sixties. The colours used are mainly just varying shades of grey, often making you think Melville might as well have shot the film in black and white. It is a very minimalist film, and the lack of dialogue in many scenes (it’s almost ten minutes before the first line of dialogue is delivered) adds to the distinctive style. The exterior shots of the city of Paris are also excellent. This is the only film I’ve seen set in Paris where the Eiffel Tower is not even in a single shot – probably because this is a French film and it’s only us foreigners who need those establishing shots to show we’re in the City of Light and not, say, Istanbul.

It’s not all style and no substance, though. The plot is compelling enough, although the pace is a trifle more pedestrian than is fashionable today with a surprisingly lengthy section where suspects are gathered at the police station for an identity parade. He wonders why the pianist Valérie didn’t shop him straight to the cops and suspects she’s up to no good. That doesn’t stop him obviously developing feeling for her though, even if she’s working for the organisation behind the hit on the nightclub owner. Like Jef’s flat, there’s little in the film that is superfluous, and the urge to find out what’s going to happen is strong. At the end of the day, it’s the character of Jef Costello that intrigues most. His solitude, and his abstinence from the most basic human comforts make us want to know more about him. That he’s a killer (and a damn fine one) adds to his mystery. Where did he learn his skills, for instance, and what made him become the way he is? When he refuses his ticket when checking in his hat, we suspect we’re never going to find out. But although we have few answers to our questions, the ride was worthwhile.

Le Samouraï: Death in White Gloves By David Thomson

Glenn Erickson's "DVD Savant" Review of Le Samourai:
http://www.dvdtalk.com/dvdsavant/s1775samo.html

Roger Ebert's "Great Movies" Review of Le Samourai:
http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=%2F19970608%2FREVIEWS08%2F401010337%2F1023