Poormatch.com

 I may have finally found my dating service. A few success stories:

“We met online and literally within seconds we were regretting exchanging mobile phone numbers and email addresses. Thank you Poormatch!”

“I’ve met some really freaky people through Poormatch and picked up a couple of stalkers along the way. Thanks so much for your service”

“Following many amusing and threatening email exchanges, Gary finally tracked me down to my home address. After a brief siege and some arson, he had me.”

Via The Official Stroke.

Candy Heart Generator

As if I needed any more reasons to love Despair.com, I give you The Candy Heart Generator. Now, at long last, as that bloody pink holiday approaches, you can say what you really feel!

Techyum Roundup

Funerals for the Living

MS Beluga Skysails: The New Age of Sail?

100 Weirdest Amphibians List

Wrong Number Generator

Image via Wikipedia.

My Sucky Valentine: Thursday, Feb. 14, 2008

My Sucky Valentine 2008
A benefit for the Women’s Community Clinic and the St. James Infirmary

Thursday, Feb. 14, 2008
Doors 7 – Show 8
Artwork SF — 49 Geary — San Francisco (www.artworksf.com)

Featuring readings by
mi blue, Sherilyn Connelly, Thea Hillman, Carol Queen, Lori Selke, Julia Serrano, and Simon Sheppard

Hosted by Thomas S. Roche 

Every year, San Francisco writer Thomas Roche and a sex club, dungeon, art gallery or dive bar full of his closest friends, hated rivals and future ex-wives gather together to explore all the darkest themes of love and romance — psycho girlfriends with nutty exes, boyfriends with skid marks, and heartache, heartache, heartache!

I know, I know — for this, you want we should pay ten dollars? But what makes this event slightly different than your run-of-the-mill group drunken crying jag at Old Joe’s Barroom is that My Sucky Valentine peels back the rotting rose petals of romance that cover the fragrant bud of sleaze. Many of San Francisco’s best-loved erotica writers step away from their usual sex-positive selves and mingle their appreciation of the nastier side of sex with bitter and downright admissions about how wrong it can go.

This year’s event is a benefit for the Women’s Community Clinic and the St. James Infirmary. Past years have featured stories and poems about star-crossed romances, ill-conceived sexual encounters, crockery-smashing breakups, mistaken identity, dates with serial killers and of course, entries in that tried-and-true subgenre of modern literature, known as the “You Suck Fuck You I Fucking Hate You!” story — proving, as the poets have said, that “Revenge is a dish best served live on stage in front of a hundred people, preferably wearing black leather.” In, you know, a literary fashion.

People attending are encouraged to wear their sexiest, skimpiest, kinkiest sleazewear. This year’s event is unthemed, meaning you should wear whatever sleazy sexwear turns you on, while keeping with the barest shreds of propriety — no nipples, y’understand, or at least keep ‘em under wraps and/or electrical tape. The silent auction will take bids on special packages of sleaze, from hot erotica to overwrought gonzo porn and more.

No reservation necessary, but seating is limited. For more information, email Thomas Roche.

Indonesia’s Suharto Dies

Suharto, the former ruler of Indonesia who was forced from power by mass protest in 1998, passed away Sunday.

In the late 1960s, Suharto was the leader of the military, which feared the rise of the PKI, or the Communist Party of Indonesia. His predecessor, Sukarno, had helped Indonesia win independence from the Dutch and was trying to balance the right with the left in Indonesian politics. Sukarno, who had increasingly pissed off the United States, the United Kingdom and other western powers by nationlizing Indonesia’s resources, was walking a fine line between left and right. Though Sukarno enjoyed support among the communists, Suharto’s army was increasingly hostile to him.

In 1965 a reported coup attempt by the PKI resulted in a violent crackdown by forces loyal to Sukarno and later Suharto’s military. In the next couple of years, half a million indonesians were slaughtered by the military, police, and “pro-Suharto vigilantes.”

The coup attempt almost certainly never happened; speculation suggests that forces loyal to Sukarno staged the fake coup to provide an opportunity to scapegoat the PKI and slaughter them. This is mentioned as highly improbable by Wikipedia, which cites Sukarno’s widespread support in the PKI; as happened with the Nazis and the Reichstag fire in Berlin, 1933, of  it’s much more likely that Suharto’s forces faked the coup to provide an excuse to crack down and take power.

The start of the Indonesian massacre is portrayed with disturbing results in Peter Weir’s 1982 film The Year of Living Dangerously.

Suharto took over the Presidency of Indonesia from Sukarno under threat of force in 1967. In addition to the 500,000 Indonesians who died in the unrest of 1965-67, somewhere between 150,000 and 300,000, possibly more, were slaughtered in East Timor, a predominantly Roman Catholic former Portugese colony that was invaded and annexed by Indonesia after the Portugese relinquished control in 1975.

A movement to pardon Suharto has resulted in lively debate and protests from those who believe doing so would dishonor the dead murdered by his regime. But the Jakarta Post remembered him as a strong leader despite a ‘less than desirable’ human rights record.

Jeffrey Winters, Associate Professor of Political Economy at Northwestern University, told the Associated Press that Suharto had robbed Indonesia of its golden years. “When Indonesia does finally go back and redo history, (its people) will realize that Suharto is responsible for some of the worst crimes against humanity in the 20th century.”

Suharto: A prince among men. In pace requiescat, motherfucker, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

Portrait of Suharto from the Government of the Republic of Indonesia, via Wikipedia.

Information from Wikipedia and the Jakarta Post.

Cloverfield Sucks (Spoilers Alert)

SPOILERS ALERT 

Once again giving credence to the ravings of lunatics as well as the occasional heart-warming personal essay, I went to see Cloverfield tonight. Wow, it’s been some months since I felt that jacked by a movie. The buzz all over the net is that this thing is a harrowing, brilliant thrill ride; in fact, as far as I’m concerned it’s an embarrassing, amateurish piece of crap.

By “amateurish” I don’t mean “lo-fi.” The alternative format is the only thing the flick had going for it. I was excited to see Cloverfield because I thought this handheld camera thing was a great idea, maximizing the storytelling possibilities of democratized media and just generally shaking things up. That’s how I felt about Blair Witch, right until I hurled my cookies around the beginning of Act 2.

With Cloverfield I never even got that far; the flick had me hooked before I ever walked in the door, and managed to completely alienate me in the first 3 minutes. The flat characters of Blair Witch are magnificently sublime and amazingly complex compared to the annoying yuppie fuckbags of Cloverfield. These useless ciphers are right out of central casting, which has led some reviewers to claim that they’re Everyman characters of the sort in H.G. Wells’s original The War of the Worlds. In fact, these characters are just craptastic stick figures drawn by a small child with a crayon. If this was what “Everyman” was like, I would have killed myself years ago. But they’re infinitely more interesting than the even less complex stereotypes that blunder in and out of the movie’s point-of-view — primarily soldiers, who speak in an embarassingly flat military pidgin that makes 24’s worst clunkers seem authentic, and recite Einsteinian news flashes in a staccato parade of “As You Know, Bob”s that seem right out of a GI Joe cartoon or a Mack Bolan novel.

All of that is essentially unforgivable, but the movie still could have been a rockin’ good time if the thrillride had provided any actual thrills. Instead, we get a 90-minute parade of nausea-inducing camera swirls from a chowderheaded cameraman who, whenever anything interesting happens — like, oh, say a giant monster eating Manhattan, for instance — points the camera everywhere the monster isn’t. In story terms, we’re supposed to believe that it’s because he’s scared and confused, but I’m sorry, no one sees a giant monster eating Manhattan and doesn’t stare at it for a second. It’s probably for the better, though, because when we finally get a good look it’s a weird looking lizard thing that doesn’t make physical sense; the creature design is right out of the Mos Eisley Spaceport’s list of fourth-string discards.

Last but far from least, the most eggregious cliches in this movie are lifted wholesale from other movies — from the nuke attack to the baby Godzillas to the devoured-from-the-inside parasitic alien bite; there’s even a moment when the female main character, the camera close to her face, hysterically sobs “I — am — so — scared,” in either homage or theft, but who cares? It’s weak, empty, pathetic, and crazymaking.

If this is the derivative crap America’s movie critics rave about, next time I’ll stay home.

US Spy Satellite to Hit Earth

WASHINGTON (AP) — A large U.S. spy satellite has lost power and propulsion and could hit the Earth in late February or March, government officials said Saturday.

The satellite, which no longer can be controlled, could contain hazardous materials, and it is unknown where on the planet it might come down, they said.

The officials spoke on condition of anonymity because the information is classified as secret.

“Appropriate government agencies are monitoring the situation,” said Gordon Johndroe, a spokesman for the National Security Council.

“Numerous satellites over the years have come out of orbit and fallen harmlessly. We are looking at potential options to mitigate any possible damage this satellite may cause.”

Image: Wikipedia.

Poet Saw Wai Arrested in Myanmar

YANGON, Myanmar (AP) — A Myanmar poet known for his odes to love was arrested after penning a Valentine’s Day poem that carried a hidden message criticizing the leader of the country’s military junta, Senior Gen. Than Shwe, colleagues said Thursday.The poet, Saw Wai, was arrested Tuesday, a day after his poem “February 14″ was published in the popular weekly entertainment magazine “A Chit,” or “Love,” according to friends and colleagues who spoke on condition of anonymity fearing reprisals.

The eight-line poem in Burmese is about a man brokenhearted after falling for a fashion model, whom he thanks for having taught him the meaning of love.

But if read vertically, the first word of each line forms the phrase: “Power crazy Senior General Than Shwe.”

Than Shwe, 74, who has headed the junta since 1992, has little tolerance for criticism.

Image from CIA World Factbook.

Sean Penn Plays Harvey Milk — Be an Extra

Sean Penn is playing San Francisco supervisor Harvey Milk in the film Milk, directed by Gus Van Sant. And you can be an extra! From milkmarch.com:

BE IN A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE AND HELP RE-CREATE A PART OF SAN FRANCISCO HISTORY
On Monday night, February 4th and Friday night, February 8th, the feature film MILK…will be re-creating three 1970s marches through the Castro.

We are looking for volunteers to appear in the these marches in the film. THERE ARE NO AUDITIONS. IF YOU SIGN-UP …AND SHOW UP, YOU WILL BE USED. All ages, races and genders are welcome. But, you MUST be 18 or over to participate…. Filming will take place from 7pm – midnight on Monday night at Castro & Market and from 9pm – 3am on Friday night at Market & Franklin. Come either or both nights.

As a thank you for participating, we will host a screening for the marchers of the documentary THE TIMES OF HARVEY MILK on Monday, February 4th at the Castro Theater at 4:30pm, with introductions by the filmmaker, Rob Epstein, Cleve Jones, Gus Van Sant, and members of the cast. The filming will begin immediately after the screening.

Gay, straight or, you know, whatever, everyone should see The Times, a great documentary about an amazing time in San Francisco history. In case you don’t know (as I’ve discovered a lot of people outside San Francisco don’t), Milk was a Castro neighborhood camera store owner and the first openly gay municipal supervisor in American history. He was killed, with then-Mayor George Moscone, by fellow supervisor and former cop Dan White in a case that created the phrase “twinkie defense.” White committed suicide two years after his release from prison. Moscone’s death meant that the then-President of the Board of Supervisors, Diane Feinstein, took over the office of mayor.

Mick LaSalle on John Rambo

I’m not a big fan of the San Francisco Chronicle’s movie critic Mick LaSalle — I often find him a humorless crankypants, which is my job. But he’s in rare form with his bizarrely favorable but backhanded review of Stallone’s new film Rambo in today’s Chron:

Needless to say, the existential philosophy lesson gets lost in the commotion. The “Rambo” movies are wedded to the action formula, which means that they have to end in victory, and Stallone is too smart to mess with that. Actually, he shouldn’t mess with that. But just once, after the bodies are buried – or better yet, left to rot – I’d like to see Stallone explicitly pursue and acknowledge his implicit message with these films, that it’s all compromise, that it’s all awful, and that life is such a complete waste of time that you really might as well blow $10 on the new “Rambo” movie.

– Advisory: This violence contains a movie, but only intermittently. Mainly, it’s all violence.

I have new respect for LaSalle both for having the cojones to give Rambo a positive review, and for recognizing that the central message trumpeted by pulpy paramilitary heroes from Mike Hammer to Mack Bolan to John McClane to Marv is that life sucks, and combat redeems you. It’s a weird, reactionary, nihilistic and adolescent message, sure, but to dismiss it is to miss the boat on great chunks of masculine identity, sexuality, and politics. And no, I don’t think I’ll be seeing Rambo any time soon; I like my movies bad, but not that bad.

Link.