Long-term readers of The Somewhat Ambitious will know that, alongside North Korea, our other despotic regime of choice has always been the mighty Russia. I mean, what’s not to like? Brutal and bloody history, oppressive landscape and unlivable climate, plentiful concrete factories and open strip mines, and a fine line in the dourest/most alcoholic politicians on this fair planet. The LULZ pretty much write themselves. As do the state-sanctioned killings.

But I understand some of you may not share this deep-seated, and slightly morbid fascination with the place, so in order to help you out, I’ve compiled a selection of three videos which, in chronological order and in just over a minute, pretty much tell you everything you need to know about the governance of Russia from the collapse of the USSR on.

And yes, that last one is Putin refusing a piece of candy. Because that’s the kind of happy-go-lucky guy he is. Vladimir “Giggles” Putin they call him. Before he kills them. The only candy I can imagine him actually eating is candy hewn from the walls of the Siberian candy mines by the hands of enslaved orphans. Who he then kills.*

/Luke

* Ok, sure, there’s no direct evidence suggesting Putin has ever killed, or thought about killing orphans, but look at him! I wouldn’t leave my orphans with him. He’d be the worst babysitter ever.**
** And now I have a mental image of Putin as a member of The Babysitter’s Club. Long blonde hair and everything. Still the same cold, lifeless, judging eyes though. I think he’d probably be the leader of the club, instead of Kristy Thomas. Who he presumably killed. Poor Kristy.

Here at The Somewhat Ambitious, we…

Hang on, I’ve been dead silent for weeks! Where the shit are my manners? I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. To say I’ve been sick/busy would be true, but it wouldn’t make things any better either. So here’s something which will make it all up to you.

You’re welcome.

Like I was saying, here at The Somewhat Ambitious we have something of a beef with North Korea. More specifically, the North Korean regime, which is choking the life out of it’s beleagured, withering populace. Which mightn’t sound funny, but bear with me. Remember video game arcades? I barely see the damn things anymore, but when I was a kid, I pretty much lived at Timezone. In fact, the first time I got mugged was between a four-player X-Men machine, and an air hockey table. I’m pretty sure those tiny jets of air kept me conscious until the ambulance arrived. Anyway, I came across some pictures of a North Korean game arcade, and… wow. Talk about Spartan.*

It brings up a disturbing thought, though.

Why didn’t any of the games I played as a kid have a goddamned periscope?! All I wanted as a kid was a periscope. All I fucking wanted was an abundance of sugar, and the ability to peer above water at my supine, defenseless enemies. But no. I had to play chess with my dad.

Fuck chess.

*”Spartan” meaning “devoid of luxury”, not “having prolific amounts of sex with underaged boys”.

(Link via UK Resistance)

Yesterday, Luke addressed the hilarity Korea is offering to the world. Granted, some people define ‘hilarity’ as ‘tragically improverished military posturing and general cockbaggery’, but some people also went to see the Jonas Brothers 3D concert experience at Imax. Everyone has their pecadilloes. Well, here’s something similarly endowed with the twin guns of tragedy and amusery*, only this time, China are the power in question.

“Government officials in south-east China have ordered workers to cover a 1,000 ft long steel bridge in butter to prevent citizens from using it to attempt suicide. All the climbable surfaces on the structure in Guangzhou have been covered in greasy fat to put an end to the spate of people threatening to jump from it, The Sun reports. Government spokesman Shiu Liang said: “We tried employing guards at both ends but that didn’t work – and we put up special fences and notices asking people not to commit suicide here.

“None of it worked – and so now we have put butter over the bridge and it has worked very well. Nobody can get up there and nobody who tries ever falls.”

Oh great. Butter. We really need to cover bridges in butter, do we? I guess when faced with either a) making wide and sweeping reforms and unclenching the fists of censorship and oppression which they’re using to throttle the life out of a bewilderingly large populace, thereby alleviating said populaces desire to hurl itself collectively from high places, or b) slathering aforementioned high places in butter, butter might be… well, a wee-bit cheaper.

Also, isn’t there an outside chance a hungry chimney-sweep, craving buttered toast after a hard day chiselling calcified soot from inside the fireplace of an enormous terracotta anus, might mistake the bridge for a buttery breakfast comestible and shatter all his hard-earned teeth?

China. Shitting on the chimney-sweeps.

/Paul

(Link via Neatorama)

*Not a word, yet. But come the bloody Dictionary Wars of 2011, which my gypsy uncle predicted at Christmas dinner, it will be. It will be.

So, that happened yesterday. Democracy. The highlights are multiple, but I particularly enjoy the lady screeches at 0:10 and the awesome fighting moves at 0:26. Apparently they were “debating” the passage of a bill aimed at liberalising restrictions on the media.

It passed.

/Luke

When I was five, way back when in the heady computing days of 1990, my father dazzled the family by bringing home our first PC – a large, grey, boxy 286 Amstrad with a DOS prompt, a 5 1/4 inch disk drive and a black and green word processor. And I loved it. Yes, even then above par wordiness, asthma and a tendency toward pudginess was gearing me up for a school career as a computer nerd par excellence. But the Amstrad was also notable for introducing me to video games, and in 1990 none captivated me more than Taito’s mighty Arkanoid, a kind of one man Pong that had you bouncing a steadily accelerating ball into a series of coloured bricks in an effort to make all the bricks explode before you dropped the ball. All in stunning 16 colour EGA. I like to think I got quite good at the game, but, truth be told, the trajectories along which you could send the ball worked on a grand total of six angles, meaning that strategy and skill in the game tended to be supplanted by panic and an ability to swing the ship back and forth along the bottom reallllllly fast. The game was also notable for its pretence at plot, which was delivered in one breathless, fully capitalised sentence:

“THE TIME AND ERA OF THIS STORY IS UNKNOWN. AFTER THE MOTHERSHIP “ARKANOID” WAS DESTROYED, A SPACECRAFT “VAUS” SCRAMBLED AWAY FROM IT. BUT ONLY TO BE TRAPPED IN SPACE WARPED BY SOMEONE……..”

WHO COULD IT BE? As you discover, the SOMEONE turns out to be a giant Easter Island head named ‘Doh’. Pre-Simpsons. Amazing.

Then you think: that was less than two decades ago. And it was massive. And while maybe it wasn’t the height of technology, it kicked the shit out of Hungry Hungry Hippos. But most of all, it felt cutting edge. I mean how could anything get better than smashing bricks with a loosely controlled ball in 16 colours?

And, well, here we are:

The game is called The Last Guardian and it revolves around the friendship between a boy and a giant wolf/eagle hybrid named Trico as they kill people and solve puzzles in a crumbling ancient city. And, more impressively, everything in that preview was created using the in-game engine. Jesus.

I mean, fuck, it’s for the PS3, which I don’t have, and truth be told am unlikely to get, but that video almost made me cry off its own bat. And as Penny Arcade points out, the game is obviously going to end with the death of either the boy or the giant wolf/eagle hybrid, so, you know, brace yourself for emotional manipulation. Like the time I made it to the penultimate level of Arkanoid with three lives remaining, only to have them destroyed in quick succession by a sequence of glitchy bounces and random clutter dropping through the ceiling. Taito you bastards! Man, I was inconsolable for hours. It was also 2002 and I was 17… and I pretty much let it go after that.

I wonder if you can still get Arkanoid online…

/Luke

P.S. It’s good to be back. I promise it shant be so long next time.

Ok, it’s been quite a morning. Let me fill you in on the past 24 hours, as a LOT of weird and tragic shit has happened.

1) Farrah Fawcett died, aged 62, of anal cancer. Jesus.

This is just awful. Confusing, pointless, and an awful way to go. Also, previously I’d have giggled at the word anal, but the seriousness of this gave me a bit of a slapdown. So what happened next?

2) Michael Jackson died, aged 50 (more or less). He suffered a cardiac arrest earlier this afternoon at his Holmby Hills home and paramedics were unable to revive him.

In light of the recent Perez Hilton shitstorm (wherein he yelled at Will.I.Am, in front of friends and colleagues at a nightclub, that he was a “fucking faggot” and then got rightfully punched), here’s Hilton’s initial blog post regarding the breaking news about Jackson.

“We knew something like this would happen!!
Michael Jackson was taken by ambulance from his Holmby Hills home to a nearby Los Angeles hospital on Thursday afternoon!!
Supposedly, the singer went into cardiac arrest and the paramedics had to administer CPR!!!
His mother is even on the way to visit him!!!
We are dubious!!
Jacko pulled a similar stunt when he was getting ready for his big HBO special in ‘95 when he “collapsed” at rehearsal!
He was dragging his heels on that just like his upcoming 50 date London residency at the 02 Arena, of which he already postponed the first few dates!!!
Either he’s lying or making himself sick, but we’re curious to see if he’s able to go on!!!
Get your money back, ticket holders!!!!”

Nice punctuation, you prolific douche-pagoda.

3) Jeff Goldblum widely reported to have died.

…I’m sorry, WHAT? How the fuck does Goldblum die without me knowing? When someone like Jeff Goldblum dies, I’d know! I’d hear a million voices cry out, then get suddenly silenced! Silenced by what? Kevin Spacey. A few hours after the rumor mill started claiming Goldblum had met his unlikely demise, Spacey tweeted the following:

@KevinSpacey Jeff Goldblum is alive and well. I just spoke to his manager. Stop these stupid rumors.

I’m unspeakably glad. However, I already went ahead and compiled some of my favourite Goldblum video clips. So now, to celebrate the fact that he isn’t dead… my favourite Jeff Goldblum video clips!

Goldblum makes some amazing and arousing noises.

Goldblum drunk.

Goldblum as New Jersey, in one of my favourite films of all time, Buckaroo Banzai.

Ahh, Jeff. It’s… surprisingly hard to find good video of you on youtube.

/Paul

Well well. You all showed up. Some said it couldn’t be done. Some said it was too late.

Ok, that’s enough vague bullshit meant to get you vaugely hyped. WELCOME TO NO FUCK FRIDAY! This is the fourth in our ongoing, and questionable, segment wherein the rules are very simple:

1) Luke and myself present one video each.
2) We provide commentary for each video.
3) You must vote for the video you would find it hardest to have sex to. Not with, to. As in, watching this whilst having sex.
4) You must watch the entire video for each entry. If you can’t finish it, this doesn’t mean the other wins automatically, it just makes you a total pussy.

The reason this rule has been introduced, is because I insist a retarded chef dying onscreen (not literally; we do have some limits) for nine minutes is immesurably worse if you sit through the whole thing. Or maybe I’m just bitter that Luke gets to baptise me in the Yarra this weekend, provided the temperatures outside break the ten degree mark, in which case I can be sure I won’t get hypothermia. Also, it’ll mean I probably won’t wake up in the year 3000, in a futuristic museum, where small children will poke me with robo-sticks (actual sticks having died out centuries ago). But, I digress. Here are our entries for No Fuck Friday 4!

Paul: I chose this video because it made me sick. If it helps, remember this: you’re not allowed to look away. Nor are you allowed to stop periodically imagining getting it on whilst this plays. That way, the bubbling burning feeling in your gut will give birth to a boy! Made of vomit. Incidentally, the youtube comments for this video comtain this exchange:

Puffkenny: u left out the head smashing scene lol

Bonecave: Oh CRAP! Can’t believe I left that out! Ooops. Oh well… not like anyone hasn’t seen it a million times already.

Luke: After last week’s mammoth entries I had hoped to curtail matters a little, but I think this particular gem warrants the time investment. I like the way it drops you straight into the action without really telling you what’s going on. So many questions! Who is this man? Who is he responding too? Why does he have toys all over his wal- Wait, did he just say he recycles his own semen?

And yes. This man is entirely serious and does exist.

As usual, vote and enjoy. Also, this time around, we’re taking votes for the punishment of the loser, which we’ll decide in our own good time. Also, keep your eyes peeled for my baptism. If I get sick, I plan on killing Luke in the face.

/Paul

Tim and Eric.

Apart from being one of the best things on television, Tim and Eric Awesome Show Great Job stars one of the most terminally brilliant F-grade celebrities of all time, David Liebe Hart. For those of you unfamiliar with Hart, he ran a show on LA public access television, entitled The Junior Christian Science Bible Lesson Show. You’d think that given the nature of Tim and Eric, the guy is a comic genius and that in no way does he take his performances seriously. At least, not seriously enough to dedicate years to his puppet shows, irony free, in the form of a christian puppet show.

You’d be wrong.

Not only is the dancing blonde vomit-inducingly reminiscent of the woman dancing on Dennis Hoppers car in Blue Velvet before he rapes young Jeffrey Beaumont, but there appears to be an old Jewish ghost in a fez in the room. Somehow, Hart manages to convey both indifference and contempt towards this huge velure-clad bitch with naught but a hugely racist puppet, and a panda that sings. Well, to be fair, all his creations sing and talk. In the exact same voice. How could this get any more awesome, you may ask? Observe.

Whilst I do love christmas (much to the chargin of Luke, who despises both consumerism and tinsel with an almost Leninesque fervour), at no point did I need the point driven home so hard. If you watched carefully, you’ll notice that at the end of his song, Bob (the guy who sodomised his guitar with the christmas song in question) realised Hart HAD GONE TO THE BATHROOM AND WASN’T READY TO PERFORM YET. The Phish groupie on the left mutters something from deep within a pot-addled haze, the blonde appears to twitch a bit, and Bob starts delivering a message of goodwill. If this isn’t the greatest thing on the internet, I don’t know what is.

You may now be wondering what else Hart has done. Well, I did a little digging, and you want to know what his most prominent TV role has been?

HE WAS ON GOLDEN GIRLS.

Fuck. I have nothing to say which can top that.

/Paul

As the loser of No Fuck Friday 2, Luke had the dubious honor of getting waterboarded today, with milk. Manchux (who can be seen holding the teatowel over Lukes head) was there, as were a bunch of our friends, all apparently giddy at the prospect of seeing Luke drowned in full cream milk. Let us know what you think!

As previously mentioned, the loser of the current No Fuck Friday gets baptized in the Yarra. Make sure you vote *for me COUGH COUGH* or someone *ME COUGH* could end up in the Yarra, catching all manner of terrible diseases. Which makes me sound like a douchebag, as i’m practically wishing for my best friend (a recovering cancer sufferer) to get even sicker. Now I’m all kinds of conflicted.

/Paul

Gum. Is there anything it can’t do?* Maurizio Savini is an Italian artist, and has created an almost unsettling series of staggering gum sculptures. Not only are they huge in terms of size, but the sheer degree of pedantic minutia is exhilrating. To get a more thorough idea of the premise behind these (in particular, the delicious gum-bear pictured above), here’s an excerpt from a review of the exhibit, taken from Pastificio Cerere.

The sensual act of chewing, the voluptuous warmth of rebelling saliva, the artificial and secretly aseptic fragrance which spreads from the mouth as a promise and missed kiss. The synthetic fleshliness of the pink color, the obsessive square shape of the product unwrapped and ready to be shred to pieces by the power of the tongue, all compete in crashing on the senses. Applying all this to the power and energy of the Sculpture and its history causes a short circuit having the capacity of turning the ludic into stately and vice versa. The strict minimalism of parallelepiped is subverted by the uniform coating with many bars of chewing-gum completely cover it, rendering chewable to desire, soft and provoking to forbidden touch, what was abstract and distant.

Great. Now I don’t know whether I want to eat the bear, or have sex with it.

I always had issues with gum, ever since I caught a relative of mine eating it off some stairs near my house. True story. Also, people kept insisting that by swallowing it i’d have a hunk of rubber in my stomach for ten years, which would, I don’t know, affect my grades and render me infertile. What the fuck did I care? Oh, incidentally, the muscular motions involved in digestion and the acids which coat your stomach wall make this old wives tale clear for what it is: total fucking bullshit. Swallow away. I did some digging, though, and it turns out that gum advertisements are either totally inane, or are the best way to trip balls. Observe.

You see? Mental. It’s ads like that which are likely to blame for my relative and his filthy gum/stair habit, and which have shaped me into the twisted berk I am today. And yes, I said berk. I was leafing through The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole a day or so ago, and am still trying to wash off the Thatcher-era working class British-isms. Fuck you, Thatcher. I hope you swallow some gum and die from a bowel obstruction. If only that were biologically possible.

/Paul

(Link via Fabrikproject)

*There are literally billions of things gum cannot do. Sorry kids.