Archive for June, 2008

four dollar a gallon gas huge disappointment

Monday, June 30th, 2008

Fortuitously, I managed to unload the Jeep of Doom™ at just the right time. Way back then, gasoline was selling for the unheard of price of $2.50 per gallon. Since I traded it in for an Acura RSX Type-S, the price of fuel has increased exponentially.

As background for Propeller Skies readers who are not familiar with the city I live in, Atlanta has a bit of a traffic problem. This is exacerbated by Georgia DOT and the goddamn City of Atlanta closing half the bridges inside the perimeter and rerouting traffic onto roads that were already congested.

As much as I hate paying over four dollars a gallon for premium gasoline, one benefit I was expecting from expensive fuel was the removal of poor people from the highways. Even though it is impossible to swing a dead chicken anywhere in Atlanta without hitting twenty seven luxury cars, removing the economically challenged segment of society should still result in a substantial decrease in congestion. Unfortunately, poor people can still afford gasoline at $4.00 per gallon. Therefore, I will be supporting a preemptive war on Iran and voting for John McCain. Certainly $20.00 a gallon gas will get them off the road and the fuck out of my way.

planet terror

Tuesday, June 24th, 2008

In contrast to Quentin Tarantino’s hopelessly shitty Deathproof, Robert Rodrigeuz’s contribution to Grindhouse, Planet Terror, kicked more ass than Jean Claude. Where Deathproof featured hours of boring dialog between women, Planet Terror was ninety-five minutes of non-stop action.

Besides plenty of action, Planet Terror also included zombies, a prosthetic leg that doubles as a machine gun, bad acting by Quentin Tarantino, and multiple shots of Rose McGowan’s heaving bosom. The only thing missing from this film is a midget.

Planet Terror is recommended. We here at Propeller Skies highly recommend skipping the terrible companion piece Deathproof.

deathproof

Wednesday, June 18th, 2008

Deathproof is the stupidest fucking movie in the entire damn world. A more accurate title would be Watchproof, as it is nothing more than a motherfucking Lifetime original movie with better looking actresses.

While Quentin Tarantino started off strong with Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction, later movies, especially this piece of shit, exposed him as a no talent having hack. This is unfortunate, as I rather enjoyed the two aforementioned films.

The plot of Deathproof consists mainly of women sitting around talking to each other. Thirty-three minutes into the movie, exactly no ultra-violence has occurred. We decide to fast forward to see if that helps. At forty-four minutes into the movie, something might have happened, but the two cats allowing us to watch the movie in their apartment were more violent and interesting, so I was not paying any attention. Also, no tits had been shown yet. Seriously, what is the point of having a bunch of hot actresses in a movie if no boobs will be making appearances?

In an effort to increase the positivity around here, I have compiled the following list of things that would improve this movie:

  • Copious amounts of gratuitous titty shots;
  • Non-stop ultraviolence;
  • A nefarious army of midgets wielding chainsaws that carve people into vertical slices; and
  • A cameo by choo-choo bear.

While the improvements listed above might upgrade the movie to watchable, even zombie ninjas could not make it as good as Mr. Tarantino’s earlier work. I was looking forward to seeing the movie, however Deathproof was a huge disappointment and is not recommended. Except as an interrogation tool.

sean costello at northside tavern

Tuesday, June 17th, 2008

This concert review is a trick. Since I am not a Sean Costello fan*, I did not pay attention. The first part of this review covers the venue and the second installment is about the bothersome fuckers that mill about the dump. In the third part, I finally get around to briefly describing the concert.

I found myself at Northside Tavern, along with recurring Propeller Skies characters The Beaver and Hunt Diddy because one of them is a huge fan of Mr. Costello. Two other non-recurring characters named Vidya and Skinny White Boy were also in attendance.

northside tavern review

Northside Tavern is the most irritating bar in Atlanta. Northside Tavern is a dive with all of the annoyances and none of the benefits. When paying exorbitant prices for beer, I like to have a little bit of motherfucking ambiance to go along with it. Some decent scenery would be nice, too. Northside offers neither, but still charges five dollars a brew. Finally, Northside Tavern is always crowded, making the experience even more unpleasant and getting an overpriced beer is a pain in the ass.

the cocksucking customers

I hate the assholes that hang out at Northside Tavern so much, they get their own goddamn section. Northside Tavern has an abundance of sad perverted drunken older gentlemen who loutishly mack on anyone with a vagina. This causes all remotely attractive women to run screaming from Northside Tavern.

A bitch ass punk I will call Biodiesel is an excellent example of the type of sorry pervert running loose in Northside Tavern. While standing at the bar trying to drink my overpriced beer and get jostled by every fucking person in the place, some drunk ass old geezer wearing a hat emblazoned with “Biodiesel” started hitting on Vidya. This was totally cool with me, I figured Skinny White Boy, Vidya’s boyfriend, would grow a set of balls, whip out a switchblade and cut Biodiesel eventually.

After being bumped twice by Biodiesel I ran out of patience. Unfortunately, I was not drunk enough to knock his fucking teeth down his throat like he damn well deserved. So I distracted him by yelling, “Hey! Look, there’s Willie Nelson,” and gave him a shove. Maryland farmer had no idea what happened. It was pretty comical watching him look around in a daze and wander off to hit on some cougar. But knocking some douchebag’s teeth out is definitely on my bucket list.

sean costello

Had I known it was the last show I would ever see him play, I might have paid more attention. However, I am happy to report there were guitars, drums, bass, and singing.

notes:

* Just because he keeled over at the Cheshire Motor Inn does not mean I am going to start spouting off about what a great blues musician he was. Although it does increase his blues cred 300 percent.
** C0mm3nts are now working again.