Should Haibane Renmei be rated “R”? ((Yeah, Haibane Renmei is not a “film.” The point remains.))
(Via Strange Herring.)
And besides, I don’t really see how there could be such a thing as a “surge” in popularity for Light Novels; they’re basically just romance novels written for men, which is, uh, not a terribly large demographic here in America.
This is too imbecilic to let pass. “Romance novels” for men — absolute nonsense. A “light novel” is essentially the Japanese equivalent of an occidental “young adult” book. Fuyumi Ono and Nahoko Uehashi are counterparts of such writers as Diana Wynne Jones, ((One of my favorite writers. Her book Howl’s Moving Castle is far better than Miyazaki’s botch of a movie and is strongly recommended.)) not Harlequin romance hacks.
My sister sent me a link to an “identify the album” quiz. The page is no longer maintained — the link to the answers returns a 404 — and at least one of the identifications is wrong, but you might find it amusing anyway.
The above is one of my favorite covers, though the album, a collection of medieval dances, is too obscure to be fair game for such a quiz. Here it is in higher resolution.
Introducing Edward, the Veggie-Vampire.
(Via John Salmon.)
You want Christmas spirit before Thanksgiving? I’ve got some right here.
Overheard by John Salmon:
“You need to ask your surgeon a lot of questions, like what’s his mortality rate. Make sure his mortality rate is at least 98%.”
If you are a werewolf, and should the opportunity arise to rip out Kid Rock’s lungs, please do so. Listen to “All Summer Long,” and you will understand why.
Right now I’m playing loud music to drown out today’s treat: a bunch of no-longer-young drag queens lipsyncing to mediocre music down at the corner. No pictures; I want to forget the images, not share them with unwary visitors. There’s also an ice cream vendor playing tinny banjo recordings of teevee themes in the parking lot across the alley.
When the phone rings these days, I awkwardly rise out of my chair, lumber across the room with the walker and, struggling to not lose my balance, pick up the phone. It is a nuisance. I don’t mind making the efforts for friends and colleagues. However, when I put the receiver to my ear and hear a recording of a politician, I regret that I don’t know more maledictions. If you want to guarantee that I’ll never vote for you or any of your causes again, this is the way to do it.
Let’s take a break from ballet and look at some other kinds of dance. Via Mark Sullivan comes this example of dance as a martial art:
Bonus points if you can identify the pianist.
And there’s the dancing stormtrooper of Akihabara.
One more reason why I intend to remain the last person in North America without a cell phone.
If three women together mean “mischief,” what would, say, three geeks mean?
An epic win for the Japanese: the Gurren-Lagaan Jack.
Let’s get into the Olympic spirit:
The orange sticker man strikes again. (Here’s an example of his ecumenical spirit from last year.)