Year / 2005

by Edward Champion

#4 — battle royale ii

Now drinking the Korbel used to top off the Hangman’s Noose.

I’ve watched a little bit of Battle Royale II and, based on the fifteen minutes I’ve seen so far, let’s just say that it’s not as interesting or as eye-popping as the first one. If anything, it seems to be more of a confused retread. The kids who slaughtered each other on the island have now, get this, declared war on adults. And somehow it all ties into terrorism. In fact, there’s now a faction group of “BR supporters” which numbers ten million — a political bloc that seems to think that kids killing each other on an island is a fabulous idea. (And you thought the United States was a scary place.) Inexplicably, the game has spread to Japan and now one can personally enroll in the program through the Internet. (Gee, that’s an extremely stupid idea given that you have a 1 in 40 chance of staying alive.)

It’s safe to say that this plot makes no sense. First off, let’s do the math. 365/3 days of killing = 121 survivors per year. Since we saw in the first film that there is some downtime between classes killing each other, this would suggest to me that the number falls far shorter of this 121 survivor rate. Let’s put it at 50 survivors.

So in Battle Royale II, it’s three years after the first film, which would give us around 150 survivors. Since the Japanese government controls these massacres, it seems to me that they would be quite capable of either corralling the surivors or taking them out. If they have the resources to kidnap schoolbuses and send them to an island, then certainly they will be able to control 150 vicious loose cannons.

Further, if there have been 150 survivors, that would mean that there have been 5,850 deaths of children. Even if these kids were vicious, why would anyone advocate that much death? Now we’re talking a figure of “10 million BR supporters.” Now Japan has a population of 127 million. Which would suggest that 8% of its population thought highly enough of rampant childhood homicide to campaign for it.

Either Japan, as presented in the Battle Royale films, is a very fucked up place or there is something seriously wrong with the story logic.

More importantly, the fact that Beat Takeshi is nowhere to be found on this film sucks ass.

by Edward Champion

#3 — Political Phone Calls

Shifting over to straight stout temporarily after getting my neck in the noose.

Despite being out and about several times today for considerable durations of time, I have received twelve fucking phone calls from machines with recorded messages telling me precisely how I should vote this week. It would be one thing if these personages thought highly enough of me to call me personally, seeing as how I am going out of my way to answer the landline. No small task that, in this cell phone world. It would be one thing if even some volunteer called me personally and, once he has guessed within seconds that I’ll be voting against Prop. 75, we could then chat for 30 more seconds about the weather or the White Sox and then I could wish him well. Perhaps his name could be Joe and the two of us could bond over the fact that we both have monosyllabic first names.

But these are fucking machines. And they genuinely believe that if you hear a recording of Matt Gonzalez or Tom Ammiano sounding as if they’re speaking to you from some wind tunnel, that you will somehow take their boiler plate audio seriously.

In fact, since this week’s election is relatively modest compared to others (no President, no Governor, no Senator or Representative), I’ve actually been surprised that these phone calls have outnumbered the political junkets clogging my mailbox by a ratio of 3:1. I came home one evening last week and my voicemail was FULL!

Who was the asshole who thought up this scheme? And what’s his fucking number? Do these people not realize that when we pick up a phone, we are often in the middle of a very important task and that it’s a bit like coitus interruptus when the far more interesting task is upstaged by some standardized nonsense?

Granted, one could always turn the phone ringer off. One can choose not to pick up the phone at all. But this, of course, means more voicemails and more phone calls to return later. And why do that when, in one fell swoop, you can personally answer the call and manage your time more effectively (thus rendering the duration that it takes to listen to the voicemail and then return it) and get another phone call out of the way?

How disappointing it is to find one’s effrontery on this subject stymied when there’s that five second pause where you’re shouting “Hello? Hello? Is anybody there?” and then you suddenly realize that it’s a machine trying to figure you out the optimal moment to play the recording!

It’s enough to make one wear a Budweiser jacket, pick up chain-smoking again, and call out to a barful of strangers, “There oughta be a law!”

by Edward Champion

#1 — The Burgess Cocktail

So, per the instructions, I prepared the Hangman’s Blood.

This is one serious beverage.

The taste is overpoweringly pungent and I cannot imagine anyone other than a drinker of Burgess’ hardy stature drinking more than one of these over an evening. Since there are five hard liquors involved (and I prepared about a jigger a piece), even the viscous Guinness cannot absorb the full potency of this brew. And the Korbel on top only complicates thing, causing the mix to resemble some cold version of a frothy witches brew.

However, Burgess was damn right about the elation. I’ve had about a third of the drink so far and, despite dinner, it went straight to my head and, despite the noxious taste, I am feeling a very pleasant tingle throughout my arms and my stomach.

Perhaps this is the British answer to Long Island Iced Tea. Because the gin in particular really seems to stand out. (Perhaps gin doesn’t chemically mesh with the Guinness. Any scientists in the crowd tonight?)

by Edward Champion

Surviving On Strange Fits

This Sunday’s New York Times features this Mary Gaitskill profile. So what is the life of a 52 year old woman writer who writes gritty and uncompromising literary fiction like? And what does being nominated for the National Book Award mean? Incredibly, a bit of a break in a career that has involved not being offered a cushy faculty position and living in a student dormitory to cut costs while teaching at Syracuse. (via SnarkSpot)