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| Spoiler-free Review of War of the Worlds |
| 06.30.05 (12:32 pm) [edit] |
I make no secret of the fact that I despise Tom Cruise with every fiber of my being, so the fact that I thoroughly enjoyed War of the Worlds (which opened today) is a testament to great acting, effects and the amazing direction and vision of Steven Spielberg.
Why was it so good?
The pacing was just perfect. They managed to build up the characters and establish the nature of their relationships really quickly and then all hell breaks loose and you're just torn up inside for them. I was tense for the first 45 minutes of the film. It was a great workout for my stomach muscles. Spielberg cut away the fat and didn't include those cheesy scenes we've come to expect from major blockbusters. Remember that scene in Independence Day when Will Smith punches the alien and then says "Welcome to Earth"? None of that bullshiat. It's reality-based fantasy as would say. None of the superficial crap makes it in there.
The acting is just dead on. There's no grandstanding or overly dramatic yelling and screeching. The reactions are real. I have always found Dakota Fanning a tad creepy. She's a cute kid, but there's no way someone her age should enunciate that well. No. Freakin'. Way. Well in this film, Dakota is just a cute kid caught in something really huge and there isn't a hint of the child-genius in sight. Beautiful! Tom Cruise just disappears into his character, so much so that I stopped cringing 1 minute into the film. That's no small feat. Three minutes into The Last Samurai I had cluster headaches and was beginning to see bright spots at the corners of my eyes. Wish he could disappear in real life, but anyway, back to this film. Oh and the kid who plays his son, Robbie (Justin Chatwin ), totally HOOOOOOTTTT. What's makes him even hotter - he's Canadian. Yummy. It's not his first time working for Mr. Spielberg. Justin had a small role in the Sci-fi mini-series Taken. He's definitely a candidate for Boyfriend of the Moment. If only Christian Bale hadn't left such a strong impression on me over the weekend.
The effects are just the sort you expect from a Spielberg film. Seamless. Good stuff.
My overall score for this film is A-/B+ (which is the same score I gave to Revenge of the Sith).
Well, can't complain about the plot. I mean, that would be ripping into H.G. Wells and I'm in no position to do that. I've only ever written fan fiction.
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| You know I never liked Matt Lauer |
| 06.24.05 (12:38 pm) [edit] |
Having heard the way that he grilled Tom Cruise on the Today Show about his criticism of Brooke Shields and anyone that takes drugs to help cope with anything from depression to attention deficit disorder, I think I might hate Matt Lauer less. He's definitely moved further down in my top 100 list of celebrities that I cannot tolerate. Good on you, Matt!
During the interview Cruise came off like a complete know-it-all assclown, reprimanding Lauer for commenting on a subject that he felt Matt knew too little about and claiming that he, Tom Cruise, a.k.a. God's Friggin' Gift to Humanity, is an expert of psychiatry and that he's read all the research on drugs like Ritalin.
"You don't know the history of psychiatry. I do," Cruise said
Yeah right! When does Tom find the time between using a penis-pump, whitening his teeth and carefully crafting his public persona to read the extensive research on the effects of psychotropic drugs? Puleeez!
"Matt, Matt, you don't even [know] you're glib," Cruise responded. "You don't even know what Ritalin is. If you start talking about chemical imbalance, you have to evaluate and read the research papers on how they came up with these theories, Matt, OK. That's what I've done."
Translation: "Shut up, Matt! I'm the expert here. You couldn't possibly know more than me on this subject because I am Maverick...er, Tom Cruise, a God among men."
I'm all for people putting Matt Lauer in his place because I find him often times a self-righteous prick but Tom Cruise? Things got so heated during the interview, I'm sure Matt consider once or twice cooling Tom off with some water. It wouldn't have been the first time Matt stole his interview ideas from someone else. He's not known for his originality.
Tom's expertise in psychiatry might explain his ability to manipulate otherwise intelligent women into giving him the time of day.
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| Assholes get mail too |
| 06.24.05 (10:21 am) [edit] |
"Neither rain, nor sleet, nor gloom of night will keep me from my appointed rounds."
- The Postman's Motto
Yeah, right. Apparently the postman's motto goes out the window if there's a garbage container, car or some other obstruction parked in front of the mailbox that would require the postman to dismount from his carrier and actually step up to your mailbox. Apparently, it's in the rules or their union contract or whatever. If the mailman can't open his window and reach over and drop the mail into the mailbox from the comfort of his mailvan, you don't get mail. All those USPS ads showing the mailmen in their cute little shorts fighting pesky dogs are apparently dreams in certain neighborhoods. My neighbors in my apartment complex have been inconsiderate jerks for the past 4 days and have parked infront of the mailboxes on each day at exactly the time when the mail gets delivered. So what does that mean? NO MAIL. I'm expecting an important package and my brother is expecting his winnings from eBay, so you can imagine how annoying it is when you go out to check the mailbox and there isn't even the usual annoying junk mail offering you 3.9% APR or some discount at Dominoes. Nothing for 4 days!! I'm also job hunting and usually places send you Dear Johns by mail. It would be nice to eliminate those people who aren't interested so I can follow up with those who have not responded. I can't do that without mail delivery. Don't they want their mail delivered too? Well if it's all credit card bills then...
So I called USPS and the lovely lady forwarded my concerns to the local post office who promptly called me this morning and informed me of the problem. The mailman has been going above and beyond the call of duty and dismounting his carrier to deliver our mail and for the past four days he hasn't even been able to do that because one particularly idiotic neighbor of mine who drives a silver car parked so close to the mailboxes that he couldn't squeeze through to deliver the mail. ASSHOLE! So now I just sent my bro door to door to tell my neighbors to move their bleedin' cars and don't park in front of the mailboxes until after 5pm. Is that really too much to ask?
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6 Comments
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| Dead Boyfriend Soceity |
| 06.23.05 (12:45 pm) [edit] |
Having a boyfriend of the moment is great. There's no commitment, no chance of an unwanted pregnancy, no smelly feet or gassy eruptions to tolerate, no mother-in-laws, no gross poker buddies, no wrestling for control of the TV remote, no insufferable Xmas shopping (men are so hard to shop for) and, finally, no need to shave regularly. Yeah, that's the best part of not really having a boyfriend - no razor bumps on my legs and sensitive areas. Right...anyway...on to the point of this entry. The ultimate boyfriend of the moment is one who has gone on to greener pastures and can only be remembered with fondness. There's no chance that he'll screw Britney Spears and proposition a 70-year-old actress and drop out of favor. He's just plain dead. Here are the first two inductees into the Natblog Dead Boyfriend Society, a high place of honor for the Boyfriend of the Moment. All BotM should aspire to enter into these hallowed halls when they die.
Steve McQueen and Graham Chapman
Steve McQueen also happens to be my favorite Sheryl Crowe song. My favorite of Mr. McQueen's films are The Great Escape, Bullit and The Sand Pebbles. He just seemed like an all-round cool guy. Oh and the mouth-creases are just too sexy. Steve McQueen knew how to handle a bike and a speedster, so I think he could handle a teddy/bra/corsette in 8 seconds or less - which is his Throw Down score.
Graham Chapman is a perfect boyfriend of the moment. Not only is his unavailability aided by the fact that he's dead, he was also very very very gay. He was openly gay in a time when the politically correct police hadn't started to handout tickets to gay-bashers. I mean, dead and gay - absolute perfection. Oh and he was as funny as hell. As for his Throw Down score, I'm afraid Graham would have been off the charts. He might have run away at the thought of having to touch my bra.
The Throw Down Scale measures the time I imagine it would take for the BotM to rip my shirt off, unhook my bra and throw me down on the bed (ranging from 0 to 90 seconds, because some of my bras open at the front). As a point of comparison, at the beginning of his Bond days, Sean Connery would have rated a 5. Today, he would probably require the full 90 seconds, viagra notwithstanding.
This moment in boyfriend history is brought to you by
Now Playing in a theater near you.
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8 Comments
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| A Squirt for A Squirt |
| 06.20.05 (9:29 am) [edit] |
Tom Cruise found himself all wet at the UK premiere of War of the Worlds. Apparently I'm not the only one who finds Mr. Cruise a lame joke. I wish more celebrities got hosed at premieres. This could be the start of a lovely trend. Some people would even benefit career-wise from being soaked. How often have I wished that Vin Diesel would walk down the red carpet wearing a completely soaked white t-shirt? Too many times to count.
"Mommy, people no like me."
Anyway, it seems the Cruiser was the target of a really bad practical joke concocted by an over-zealous freelance camera crew. For more details including video footage go here.
I must warn you that there is audio of Cruise sounding like a complete jackass on the video. When asked what he thought about H.G. Wells novel on which his movie was based, Cruise found it difficult to form a coherent sentence. May be alms is right. May be Cruise does have a brain tumor. More than likely he's smoking crack.
Nasty, jerk? LAME! LAME! LAME! Not that I condone violence but I would have respected Tom Cruise more if he'd gone Russell Crowe and beat the guy with his own microphone. Plus, it would have given me more things to laugh and write about.
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5 Comments
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| Vagina Squash |
| 06.19.05 (3:44 pm) [edit] |
Nope, I am not refering to a certain blogger friend of mine who's nether-region has it's own journal. I am refering to a very little known member of the squash family called the chayote squash. The chayote squash has been used in soups, salads, stews and the like in my homeland for eons. It tastes pretty bad on its own but with carrots and chicken or saltfish and string beans it's marvelous. I mention all of this, not because I feel like sharing a recipe with you but because of what happened to me over the past 2 weeks as I searched for this bugger of a vegetable all over the little valley in which I live.
Where I come from the chayote squash is known simply known as chocho. My Mom has been in town for a few days and as is her custom whenever she's with us, she wants to cook everything under the sun that she has ever cooked for us when we were little kids. She's a mother and so she must mother us in every way possible short of breastfeeding. One day 2 weeks ago my brother mentioned that he misses my mother's chicken pumpkin soup. I'm sure you don't care but the recipe includes chicken, pumpkin, carrots, thyme, dumplings, green pepper, onions, black pepper, red pepper, scotch bonnet pepper, corn and of course, chocho.
My mother insisted that there was no way this soup would be made without chocho. So off we went from produce market, to supermarket, to farmers' market, to streetside venders to gas stations to convenience stores looking for chocho. Each time the person we asked would give us the strangest look. One lady ran us out of the store saying "No chocho! No chocho!" She wouldn't even hear our explanation, she just pointed to the exit. On Thursday as luck would have it, we walked into the Walmart Superstore and came across a large pile of chocho. The pile was so huge that it obscured the display sign and we could only see that it started with a 'ch' and was going for 98 cents per pound. We got 3 and promptly headed to the cashier. When we got there, the cashier was not familiar with chocho and asked us to tell her the name so she could look it up on her produce chart. So Mama says "Chocho."
Suddenly the cashier started yacking at us in rapid Spanish. Startled, I explained to her that where we come from chocho is called chocho. She smiled, took one of the chochos and went to another cashier. The two cashiers had an animated conversation in Spanish which ended with our cashier pointing at my mother and saying "chocho". Then they laughed. My mother, bless her heart, laughed in response as if she was in on the joke. Soon the manager came by and identified the veggie as chayote squash and we left the store pleased with our purchase but a little confused.
So I went online as soon as I got home and typed in chocho into a search engine. I came up on some music sites, a few cooking sites but a significant proportion of the websites found were porn sites. I found the whole thing odd and decided to give up. Chocho is just chocho.
Today, while having breakfast with my Aunt and a friend, my Mom gave Auntie the recipe for her chicken pumpkin soup. The two shared their frustration at having a difficult time finding good chocho in the grocery stores. That was when our friend gave us the clarity we so desperately sought. Where I currently live, a significant portion of the population refers to the vagina as chocho. That's right. Chocho is the vagina squash. In fact, something about it actually reminds me of oral sex so I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised.
A green vagina. Who knew?
Now try reading this blog over, replacing the word chocho with fanny. It's just too weird.
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| Boyfriend of the Moment - 2:27pm, Friday, June 17, 2005 |
| 06.17.05 (1:19 pm) [edit] |
Darwyn Does Dallas in association with Tinctured Sphincter and The Kitten (It Knows) in association with Tasha Hollie J Productions in association with The Evolving Harem Project in association with EMU... presents the Boyfriend of the Moment (because a week, day or hour is just too long for this fickle heart of mine). This moment goes to
Christian Bale
Despite looking absolutely dorky in the Batman suit, Christian rates a 17 on the Throw Down Scale. He appears to have nimble fingers and since he is married, he's probably had to deal with his fair share of ridiculously confusing corsettes. I have decided to include some of my favorite photos of him for purely illustrative purposes.
Here Christian demonstrates the proper tanning bed posture.
Here Christian, exhausted from running away from me, takes a break.
Christian making sure that all my attention is focused on him.
The Throw Down Scale measures the time I imagine it would take for the BotM to rip my shirt off, unhook my bra and throw me down on the bed (ranging from 0 to 90 seconds, because some of my bras open at the front). As a point of comparison, at the beginning of his Bond days, Sean Connery would have rated a 5. Today, he would probably require the full 90 seconds, viagra notwithstanding.
This moment in boyfriend history is sponsored by:
"Something for everyone!"
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4 Comments
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| Word of the Day |
| 06.16.05 (11:28 am) [edit] |
The Natblog word of the day is courtsey of Ty Burns and his spot on review of Batman Begins, now in theaters.
crepuscular
cre.pus.cu.lar Pronunciation Key (kr-psky-lr),
Adj.
1. Of or like twilight; dim: “the period's crepuscular charm and a waning of the intense francophilia that used to shape the art market” (Wall Street Journal).
2. Zoology. Becoming active at twilight or before sunrise, as do bats and certain insects and birds.
I am going to try to use it at least 5 times today.
The one on the left reminds me of Lara Flynn Boyle.
The Word of the Day is sponsored by
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6 Comments
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| Cheer up, Chris Martin!! |
| 06.16.05 (9:35 am) [edit] |
I couldn't wait until the new Coldplay album, X&Y, made it's way to my local discount CD store and coughed up the MSRP (which is a rip off I tell you!) for it. Despite the digs and insults I have endured for years from friends that found Coldplay boring, depressing, overdone and a poor man's Radiohead, I have always maintained my affinity for their music. Parachutes was a pleasant surprise for me and a perfect addition to my "when the world kicks the shit out of me and I want to wallow in self-pity" soundtrack. A Rush of Blood to the Head just kind of won me over with Politik, The Scientist and Clocks showing up everywhere I went. No public transport, mall, elevator, crackhouse was safe. I'd pop into to the restroom to take a dump and before I could wash my hands Chris Martin would belt out "Nothing else compaaaaaaaares!" over the PA system. You could say I was beaten into submission. So once again, I dug deep into my pockets and paid full price for their second album.
So I was reasonably confident that after playing X&Y a couple dozen times it would win me over. I was wrong. It's hard to be won over by an album that basically consists of 2 songs being played over and over again but the words are different and Chris Martin adds an "Ahhh" and an "Ohhhh" in different places. No, seriously, they all sound the same. A handful of them just start out with Mr. Martin doing his harrowing emoting. "I'm in pain, people. Pity me." I just can't Chris. I can't. I can't follow you down that road again. It's not that I don't feel sad anymore. I do, I just don't believe in your pain. Your life is infinitely better than mine and you don't see me singing songs to soothe the masses as they collectively turn off the pilot light and stick their heads in the oven. Chris Martin and his gang of unmerry men have mastered the art of "slit your wrist" music. This album should have been titled "The X&Y of Suicide."
I am utterly disappointed. I am not sure what I expected but it wasn't this pile of shite. Ok, in all fairness, there are a few bright spots. Speed of Sound sounds like the most likely candidate to beat me over the head and make me love it. I take pleasure in listening to Fix You because I imagine it's all about that blonde bimbo, Mrs. Martin, and how seriously flawed she is. In fact, this crappy album, it's probably all her fault.
So I wanted to write a review on Amazon.com about it and was shocked to find how well-received the album is. Is it me or has Coldplay succeeded in its quest for world domination?
Okay, here is my song by song take on the album:
Speed of Sound - Catchy but it never quite lifts off so you're left a little frustrated.
X&Y - Okay. Nothing to write home about.
A Message - Done before. "You don't have to be alone." You know what, Chris? Leave me the (bleep) alone!
Fix You - Hey everybody, let's play organ music and have Chris sing in super-duper slow motion but not in a clever way just for the heck of it.
Low - The perfect name for this song, except may be it should have been prefixed with "all-time".
Square One - My favorite because I could see it keeping me awake at night as it churns over and over in my head.
Swallowed in the Sea - Chris sings a nonsensical nursery rhyme to Apple causing a massive seizure.
Talk - Cute song. Cheesy lyrics. "I've been trying hard to reach you because I don't know what to do." Sums up the entire album's problem.
The Hardest Part - My ears are bleeding. The hardest part was listening to this song.
Twisted Logic - Hmmmm...why do I feel like I've heard this song before? Sounds like the theme to a Bond flick. No, seriously.
What if - John Lennon is rolling over in his grave right now. Thieving bastards. Gonna rip off a golden one, at least make the lyrics have depth and meaning.
White Shadows - OMG! I loved the 80's too!
Til Kingdom Come - Dumbass lyrics set to a cute hokey tune. "I need someone who understands." Good luck with that.
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| New Feature |
| 06.15.05 (12:24 pm) [edit] |
I'm adding a new regular feature to Natblog. Hopefully it will take off like previous features "Crotch of the Month", "This Week in Stupidity" and "I Hate Tom Cruise". May be it will die in infancy like "Miss Jamaica Barbie". Don't remember that feature? Neither did I, apparently.
Anyway, Natblog in association with Tinctured Sphincter and The Kitten (It Knows) presents a Tasha Hollie J production in association with The Evolving Harem Project in association with EMU....
The Boyfriend of the Moment
Because a week, day or hour is just too long for this fickle heart of mine.
This moment's boyfriend changed 4 times during the writing of this blog which made things nearly impossible. Not a good start for a new feature on a blog that gets as much readers as the poetry of my navel lint. It's deep stuff, I tell you, but can it get a publisher? Publishers aren't looking for quality stuff anymore. Anyway, I digress. Back to BofTM.
At the top of the blog it was this man
then mid article, when I remembered how Clive made the word 'cunt' sound sexy in Closer, BotM became
and then by the time I started winding up what I wanted to say about Hugh Laurie's naked bum in Fortysomething I had dumped him for this man
who prefers to wear absolutely nothing under his kilt even when he's reading a scripture passage at his sister's wedding in a drafty cathedral.
This moment in boyfriend history brought to you by
Why haven't you switched to crotchco?
Also check out Meg's Boyfriend's of the Month. She has more restraint than I do, apparently. Meg rates her men on the MacGyver Scale, because like many girls our age, MacGyver's Richard Dean Anderson was the first mega-crush. Well, in that vein I have decided to rate all the BotM on the "Throw Down" Scale. This scale measures time I imagine it would take for the BotM to rip my shirt off, unhook my bra and throw me down on the bed (ranging from 0 to 90 seconds, because some of my bras open at the front). Clive, I imagine would earn a 45, because he's married and the guilt would make him tremble and slow his hands up a bit. Hugh, for the same reason as Clive and his age, would get a 65, that and he looks additionally clumsy. Gerard Butler would garner the best score of the three with a 16. Just as a point of comparison, Colin Farrell, who I don't like anymore, would have beat them all with a score of 8. I'm sure in the world of undergarments, there is nothing he could not dismantle in 5 seconds.
Tune in next moment for the new BotM. I have rewritten this feature 17 times.
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| Not Guilty on ALL Counts |
| 06.13.05 (3:22 pm) [edit] |
The jury just handed out an unambigous comprehensive defeat to the prosecution in the Michael Jackson molestation trial. People outside the courthouse are dancing. I, like many of my friends, didn't follow the trial too closely but still kept an ear open.
Well, hopefully after all of this Michael Jackson will realize how weird it is to invite little boys to sleep in bed with you when you're a grown man who hasn't been able to sustain a decent relationship with a woman. Even if he isn't a pedophile, it's just plain stupid.
I hope this is the last of this messy business.
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6 Comments
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| The Free Katie Movement Gains Momentum |
| 06.12.05 (10:31 am) [edit] |
Not surprisingly, most folks really don't care about the Scientology, most people want to rescue Katie Holmes from the freak that is Tom Cruise. One woman in a crowd of protestors on Saturday said, "The Scientology tents and the thetans and what not don't bother me. Everyone's entitled to their 'religion' but that man is just so screwed up in the head. When I saw him on Oprah, I thought he was on crack. He's not real. I used to think Katie was real too. Now she seems to be disappearing into the fog."
Somewhere, John Travolta and fellow Scientologists must be hatching a scheme to tranquilize the Cruise Missile and have him sent to a secret quiet place for some much needed reprogramming. Cruise, in less than a month, has managed to singlehandledly destroy all the credibility the fledgeling religion has garnered over the years. Tommy can you hear me? Shut up, Tommy Boy. Shut up!! Oh and Jay Leno wants you to know that the next time you step in dog poop, you should change your shoes before standing on his couch.
If you care enough about rescuing Miss Holmes, who seems to have walked willingly into a rat trap*, you can waste your hard earned cash on over-priced t-shirts, coffee mugs and buttons at FreeKatie.net. The site doesn't claim to have any means of 'rescuing' the clueless damsel from her inevitable demise at the alter of Cruisedom, but it's vaguely amusing and in the spirit of entrepreneurship that keeps this country rolling in the dough or all doughy around the middle.
File this under 'why should I give a damn?'
* Ever notice how closely Tom resembles a buck-toothed rat? Just saying.
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| Career in Review |
| 06.01.05 (4:09 pm) [edit] |
I have spent a lot of time and effort in the past writing honest and sometimes scathing reviews about the lives and careers of the famous and the infamous. I decided that it was about time that I devoted a blog to the career of a not-so-famous writer/director friend of mine. No, I am not speaking about Jon Wright. We're hardly friends. I am speaking about Daft & Demented's Mal G.
Mal G, started her career in the mid-70's with the universally loved sci-fi fantasy Crotch Wars. The film's success spawned two equally successful sequels, The Crotch Strikes Back and Return of the Crotch. The series told the story of Lube Crotchsniffer and the small but determined Rebel Crotch Alliance fighting against the evil Empire Crotch of Crab Lice that tries to spread itself across the galaxy of crotches in the universe. Mal G wrote, directed and starred in the film, playing Princess Labia, a leader of the Rebel Crotch Alliance.
After the gruelling process of writing, directing and starring in three blockbusters in 9 years, Mal G went into early retirement, claiming that she wanted to spend more time with then second husband, Harrison Chord (Indiana Bones: Raiders of the Lost Crotch) and their two small children.
Following her divorce from Chord in the mid-90's, Mal G poured herself back into work; writing and producing a string of hits including two James Boner films Octo-Crotchy and The Man Without A Crotch.
In The Man Without A Crotch, Tom Cruise, who Mal thought was perfectly cast, put in his greatest performance to date as a hollow, spineless, gutless, imbecilic, bloodless, emotionally bankrupt Hollywood golden boy who will do anything to hide his true sexual orientation, ruining lives in the process.
In 1997, following the success of Crotchfinger, her third and last James Boner film, Mal G struck gold again with Jurassic Crotch. Jurassic tells the true story of Guinness record holder Meso Horni, played by Sam Kneel, who spent his early life wheelchair bound and later life bedridden due to the enormous size of his crotch. Meso died in 1995, when he tried to operate on himself to remove his crotch. His death led to legislation that allowed procedures like Crotchectomy to be covered by Medicaid.
In 2001, Mal G made her first foray into television as a producer of the critically acclaimed 10-part miniseries Band of Crotches. Band told the story of 30 army seamtresses whose invention of the triple-reinforced guided underloop hemi-stitch kept paratrooper crotches secure and helped win the war.
Mal G ran into some legal trouble in 2002 after the premiere of her film Lord of the Crotches: The Fellowship of the Crotch based on the famous book by J.R.R. Towelking, when Stuart Cowsend sued her for unfair termination. Many will remember that on the first day of shooting Cowsend was fired and the role of Araporn was recast to veteran actor Wiggo Farkensom. The judge sided with Mal G, who argued that Cowsend was terminated for artistic differences and not because he had been a dick on set.
In 2003, Mal G produced the huge hit Crotches of the Caribbean based on the Playboy ride of the same name. The film starred Johnny Deep (Ed's Wood, Who's Eating Gilda's Grape) and Orlando Blue (Lord of the Crotches).
Daft & Demented is due out in select cities on December 2nd 2005 in time for Oscar consideration. The film stars Bo Bice as a struggling musician who is supported by his wife, played by Mali van Gratz (Revenge of the Crotch), and their two small boys. After being turned out of their home, the family is forced to live in their van and travel the entire country before Bice is discovered by a record mogul, played by Patrick de Prance (The Incredibles). Early buzz about the film is good, with both van Gratz and Bice putting in stellar performances.
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Ayn Rant: AESav.net
Daft and Demented: Mal Uncensored
Captain Jack Sparrow
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