Rare Phobias Publishes Its First Edition

Rare Phobias, a new quarterly publication documenting uncommon fears, released its first edition this past week. The cover story examines New England's iconic stone walls and their true history. For decades these walls were thought to have been used to keep cows in their pastures, but Rare Phobias has uncovered evidence pointing to the Occult and bizarre Satanic worship rituals. Puritans were so fucking weird, right?

Collide This!

The recent release of “Angels and Demons” features the Large Hadron Collider, an immense particle accelerator comprised of miles of behemothian tubing and buried beneath the increasingly neutral country of Switzerland. Affectionately dubbed, “God’s festering bowels” by its operators, the LHC is without equal in size and can endure high-energy particle collisions paralleled only by Rush Limbaugh’s “burrito day” underwear.

Scientists, ever diligent in their quest to cock-slap God directly in the face, hope to use the LHC to find the elusive Higgs boson particle. The Higgs boson can cure cancer and has been theorized to have the capacity to make AIDS its bitch—

--wait, after checking Wikipedia, it appears that the particle might, might explain where gravity comes from. Hang on—how much has this cost? Six billion?

SWITZERLAND!

Michael Cera to Be Awarded Nobel Prize

The Swedish Academy, bequeather of the prestigious Nobel Prize, has recently added a new controversial category in addition to the more traditional awards in Physics, Chemistry, Literature, and the like. The first “reactionary” prize to be revealed, the nascent “Waldonian Penis” award was developed for the sole purpose of awarding it to “child” actor Michael Cera.

On Tuesday, Peter Englund, the reigning Permanent Secretary of the Swedish Academy, gave some insight into the reasoning behind the prize’s nomenclature: “We were watching Arrested Development and Superbad and we realized that Michael Cera, in all of his work, above all other actors, exhibits a strong desire to be ignored, passed over, and generally trivialized as the invisible, non-threatening cherubic high school student. What’s that about? So we decided that we wanted to give him some sort of pity-award, and we thought it only appropriate to name the award after the most elusive thing known to Man. What’s more invisible, better hidden than Waldo? Waldo’s penis, that’s what.”

When asked what he thought about receiving the less-than-coveted Nobel Prize in Waldonian Penis, Michael Cera quickly took the pattern of the wallpaper behind him and disappeared from sight.

Quotes Lost in History

Many great men and women of our past have been immortalized as famously witty, a trend that unfortunately has only survived to mock the notoriously dense (Bushisms, mainly). However, in addition to the white and the male, history favors hyperbole; many of our quotable predecessors had their fair share of off-days, as these recently exhumed quotations suggest:

“’Jews’? I said ‘juice’. I hate juice. Fruit allergy.”

-Adolf Hitler

“By the time I had graduated from high school, I had developed four new models of loop quantum gravity, I independently rediscovered the calculus, and I translated Virgil’s The Aeneid into fourteen distinct Khoisan “click” languages. It is my own burning love of knowledge that causes me so much dismay when I read that national standardized testing scores have plummeted in nearly every school district across the country. I propose that we reevaluate our core education paradigms, and really ask ourselves, ‘Is our children learning?’ Oh, I’m sorry, did I say ‘Is’? How foolish of me. Clearly my large, powerful brain is so full of complex mathematical theorems and the like that I slipped up there for a moment. Please don’t print what I said on a billion t-shirts, that’s all I ask.”

-G. W. Bush

“Oh, hello officer. Charles Manson? Yeah, I know him. He sent me a demo tape of some of his stuff, and I really liked it. In fact, I sent him a letter saying that I had talked to a producer buddy of mine and that he wanted Charlie on the label. But I guess it got lost in the mail. Why? Is he in trouble?”

-Brian Wilson

Film Review: Innocence

Director Mamoru Oshii’s Innocence is by far one of the best movies I have ever seen, inside or outside the anime genre. Not only does it greatly surpass its predecessor, but its unique blend of 1950s noir, plausible futuristic biotechnology, and engaging philosophical discourse creates a stand-alone masterpiece.

[ Note: This review assumes that you have seen GITS in some other form; therefore, I won't be providing a synopsis, but there are plenty online to choose from... ]

THE LOOK

Innocence is dark movie visually, a clear stylistic choice that reflects and compounds the director’s jaded quasi-dystopian vision of the future. Like the more popular anime series that followed it, this film seamlessly blends 3D CGI models with fluid 2D animation, giving many scenes an added dimension of both space and believability. While a dark, ominous palette dominates much of the environment, it serves to emphasize the rare instances of color and action, whether they be gunfire, Batou’s HUD, or an elaborately gilded mansion. You might find yourself fiddling for the brightness settings on your machine, but unless you can’t see what’s going on at all, I’d recommend leaving the movie as it was intended; it’s especially effective during the more thrilling parts.

The movie is shot in a futuristic noir style, with Batou driving his vintage car along rain-splattered streets, then abandoning his wheels to walk through dimly-lit derelict back alleyways, hands thrust into the deep pockets of his trench coat. Though the movie follows both Batou and his less-cyberized partner Togusa, Batou’s lack of a family and superhuman strength present him as the lone private eye/outsider archetype, working on his case but also searching for something more.

The future is not presented as fully utopian or dystopian, but rather a realistic prediction of technological advancements based on present trends. The human mind (or ghost) has been fully cyberized, able to be transplanted into synthetic bodies of nearly any shape or form. There are no flying cars, no laser guns, no jetpacks; all technological improvements are logical and pragmatic. For example, Batou and Togusa are ordered to look into the production of “gynoids”, or sentient robotic sex-dolls. It’s true what they say, if man can conceive it, he will also find some way to have sex with it.

THE CONTENT

Innocence, like the first film, is chalk full of philosophical issues and maxims. This is one of the qualities that separates GITS from the more generic anime movies (no mechas in this one). That being said, you won’t find any mangacized craziness in the animation style (think the opposite of FLCL).

The scene where Batou fights a Yakuza cyborg is just as interesting as Kim’s discussion on the perfection of dolls; the philosophical discourse provides a much-needed break from the action so that viewer never has an adrenaline overload.

I’d highly recommend this one for those of you who have seen the first and were let down, or have seen the series and were blown away. In any case, it’s a great movie all on its own, and one of the few that I can watch over and over.

The Very First Known Correspondence between Thomas Edison and inventor Nikola Tesla

RE: CONFIDENTIAL BUSINESS PROPOSAL

Greetings KIND SIR,

My name is Thomas Edison, founder of EDISON MACHINE WORKS. I have recently inherited a large sum of money (US $250,000) from a Nigerian nobleman who is interested in my applications for ELECTICITY. Specifically, Prince Nakambu would like to adapt my DIRECT CURRENT system for his palace, but he is WARY of DC’s inherent faults. Presently the money is frozen in an OVER-SEAS bank account until I can improve upon the DC design and make it a viable transit for electricity OVER LONG DISTANCES.

I would like you to confirm your INTEREST in working for me IMMEDIATELY via telegraph. I have heard that you have been working on a design for a system that utilizes ALTERNATING CURRENT, and I must say that I AM IMPRESSED. I have authorized my accountant to mail you a check for (US $50,000), and in return I would like to glance over your ideas. Please send your blueprints to my secure EDISON MACHINE WORKS PO Box in SWITZERLAND and after I MARVEL IN YOUR INGENUITY I will send them right back.

I am looking forward to your reply and I want to stress my desire to PROTECT YOUR INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY with a secure blanket of CONFIDENTIALITY. I would never spend the rest of my life DEFAMING you.

YOURS FAITHFULLY,
PRINCE THOMAS EDISON

The Feminism Movement at Skidmore: An Exercise in Futility

While I was attending Skidmore, I was made very aware (forcibly, I might add) of the feminist movement on campus. Though I had long been conscious of the national movement, our local version was exceedingly confusing to me. The women would annually adorn themselves with bright colorful buttons that read, “This is what a feminist looks like” (which I later discovered cost 500 dollars of the students’ money to manufacture). I still don’t know what this button hoped to accomplish by existing, but I’ve heard the word “awareness” thrown around by strong, sinewy fingers tipped with a lavender nail polish.

First of all, I’m irked that a good deal of the opposite sex that has an affinity for wearing unfashionable buttons assumes that I don’t know how to visually discriminate between feminists and normal women. A normal woman moves through life like her male counterparts. A feminist is a woman who has a Nazi-like drive to document the fact that she is, indeed, a woman. In fact, by calling themselves feminists they reduce themselves to the label itself at the expense of more equalizing terms. For many Americans, Feminism carries with it a negative connotation, one that implies radicalism, ultra-idealism, almost to the point of fem-supremacy and sexual segregation. It’s almost like having a foot fetish and calling yourself a pedophile; besides the term being used in an etymologically unsound manner, it just carries a great deal of baggage that you don’t want when declaring your love for feet at the community pool.

Secondly, openly declaring feminism can be considered hostile from a male point of view, akin to singing “Dixie Land” at a black Louisiana Baptist Church. I understand that feminism ultimately fights for equality, but considering that we’re at a liberal-arts college where the female-to-male ratio is 60/40, wearing a feminist button is superfluous; I’ll just err on the side of caution and assume that you don’t reminisce about the 1950s, when barking “Make me a sandwich!” was an even more popular way for a man to consummate the marriage than intercourse.

A prime example of this hostility came in the form of a table that was set up in the campus’s student center during “feminist week” (or something akin to it). The table turned out to be the source of the campus-wide plague whose symptoms included a black “X” inscribed on the back of the right hand, along with an incessant compulsion to pester people into getting the same ugly tattoo. Curiously though, the X’s only appeared on the hands of fellow males. Intrigued, I ventured over to the booth only to be confronted by a large Mao-red poster splattered with crudely-painted black lettering: “I promise to not assault a woman with this hand today”. I couldn’t believe the audacity of this statement. Apparently men were signing over their right to strike their fellow female students. Madness!

First of all, if I had any intention of assaulting someone I certainly wouldn’t give up so easily just because I had a black mark on my hand. “Officer, some guy just punched me in the back of the neck!”

“Well, what did he look like? Did he have any identifying characteristics?”

“He had a black “X” on the back of his hand.”

“A black ‘X’? But every guy who had that drawn on his hand promised to not assault women. You’re a liar. Get out of here, you lying liar. Leave now, before I arrest you for slander. God, you’re such a liar. And I thought I’ve seen everything.”

Secondly, what about the men who suffer abuse at the hands of women? Why can’t we have women promise to not subject men to mindless chatter or those giant ugly bug sunglasses? To insinuate that men have an inherent desire to beat women is insulting and confrontational, and to assume that a little black “X” is going to stop them is just stupid. This is the type of crap that gives feminism a bad name. I’ve never assaulted a woman before, but now I wouldn’t mind socking whoever came up with this. Unless, of course, she’s bigger than I am.