Huun-Huur-Tu's New Music Video

Sexiest Pope Ever!

Nothing like the philosophical detritus blood of a Roman-Jew mating with the viscus introspective blood of a Patagonia-bound Caveman!  There's a reason why Argentina is the new Rio for kitschy wealthy Americans.  Just keep Michael Cain away from their daughters!!!

Is this not a US Government ploy to keep us spending money in the sexiest place on Earth?  

Just look at that Pope..."ooooo-weeee you good lookin'!!! (As John Travolta said to Nick Cage who was really John Travolta playing Nick Cage and vice-versa) Speaking of John Travolta, this Pope is like John Travolta dressed as Rocky Balboa!  

In this corner, weighing 125lbs, standing  5'-5", with an unprecedented 2.3 million women laid! The Italian-Argentinian Stallion-Guanaco, Pope Jorge Mario Bergoglio!!!

Yo Argentina! If yous' can change!?! And I's can change!?! Then we all's can change!?!

The Hollow Death and Cosmic Rebirth of Paul Verhoeven

I was reading a review of Hollow Man by Kathi Maio taken from Fantasy & Science Fiction.  Kathi aims to prove 3 points in my estimation:

1) That Hollow Man is a blatant plagiarism of HG Well's The Invisible Man.  Yes. This is fairly obvious. This point is well stated but no big genius yet.  

2) That writer Andrew G. Marlowe is a shitty writer.  Yup.  He is, without a doubt, a joke.   He has written 3 films to date: 

1. Air Force One - Overrated.  Fodder for Hollywood Producer investment portfolios at the heyday of the 90's action-blockbuster genera.  
2. End of Days - critically panned and for good reason since it's Rosmary's Baby born out of the fornication of The Exorcist and The Omen and passed off as an original screenplay.  
3. Hollow Man - Lovely!  The completion of his trilogy!  He's shocked and awed and entertained us all like Edgar Wright, Simon Pegg and Nick Frost with the holy trinity of Horror, Action, Sci-Fi...only wait! He got Action and Horror out of order! or is it Sci-Fi and Horror...wait which one of these is Sci-Fi?  The story in Hollow Man is basically this: HG Well's The Invisible Man lifted with magnum force and thrown into a underground bunker in the year 2000 complete with a piece of Bacon fighting a Shue for soulless love, until the subterranean oven starts (Josh) Broilin' and the Bacon starts sizzlin'....everything disappears including the Bacon, leaving the Shue cooked in (Josh) Broilin's oven!  I have absolutely no issue with eroding Andrew Marlowe into dust through a "simple" history lesson as old as time.  His ideas are pointless and without vision.

3) That director Paul Verhoeven has become an "arrogant soul."  Note: As 3's always seem to go, this is the kicker....this is that which removes the "simple" from the History Lesson...so this one's not so cut and dry.  Knowing that even Starship Troopers, with all it's shittiness is still a fucking awesome watch, wouldn't I naturally become offended?  Verhoeven is awesome:  Robocop, Basic Instinct, Total Recall!  The reviewer seems to agree, stating that Verhoeven is that "infamous pornographer of violence and sleaze."  What a statement!  And one I certainly can rally behind.  Ok, so who/what gives?

Well for starters, Hollow Man sucks!  If you don't believe us, start by watching HG Well's Invisible Man (1933).  Where Starship Troopers had just enough of a ridiculous factor to work, Hollow Man plays it much straighter.  Just watch Elizabeth Shue's worried/confused face telling you all you need to know and listen for the deep crackle of some transparent, yet overcooked Bacon saying "It's amazing what you can do when you don't have to look at yourself in the mirror every day."  Follow Andrew Marlowe's Twisterized plot with its culturally inbreed Science-geek love triangles, as he whittles down top-secret government research in a maximum security bunker to cheap horror gaffs and fake-breasted rape scenes.  It's a moot point, when you examine it.  Varhoeven out grew his britches with Hollow Man...in the sense that his head burst through them.  This happens a lot in Hollywood.  Your growing head turns to an ugly head, easily rearing itself if you're not the sole proprietor of a project's writing/directing/producing, which is why most true artists spread out their work over the years.  It's a difficult thing to undergo, unless you're Woody Allen, but even he has been rearing his ugly head over the last dozen years or so, its just so puny and sniveling no one seems to notice (how else does one explain the critical success of Match Point).  

With Hollow Man, Verhoeven looks more like cheap Hollywood garbage washed ashore, rather than the timeless vessel that carries wonderful garbage to empty shores.  Kathi Maio sees in Verhoeven's Hollow Man what many people point to: failure to properly source one's work, and for that he's a joke.  I'd have to agree with the reviewer, even as she admits to Verhoeven claiming "he discovered the source inspiration for his latest film in the work of ancient Greek philosopher, Plato."  That's a kick ass thing to say, but only if one of 2 things been is present: 

1. Plato showing up anywhere in the point Hollow Man aims to make (*Note: it makes no point)
2. Plato being anywhere in the director's vision employed in Hollow Man (*Note: there is no vision).  But...it doesn't even have to be Verhoeven, what about the vision James Whale employs in 1993 with The Invisible Man?  But isn't that another moot point since nowhere in Hollow Man is the idea of the Mind referenced along with the Body and the Soul like HG Wells so purposefully works out In The Invisible Man.  This almost proves it's not plagiarism since the story is so different thematically, being a barren wasteland aiming to generate revenue from an altogether different wasteland, increasingly barren but full of green paper.  

I know Verhoevan has sworn off working with outside writers for now, so maybe it's lesson learned for the great entertainer.  Before he became the arbiter of other people's less the perfect, but always riotous scripts, he made 2 films staring Rutger Hauer: Soldier of Orange (1977) and Flesh+Blood (1985).  Since Hollow Man, he returned to writing/directing efforts with Blackbook (2006) & Steekspel (2011), but I know nothing of them beyond the fact they DO NOT have a blood-thirsty Rutger Hauer which isn't as easy as you may think. 

So it's my review of the reviewer, that another job well done has been done to save the life of a worth while entertainer.  She's made her 3 points and the 3rd, as 3rd's do, has created something...a new movie-making future for Verhoeven.  What he does with it, is entirely up to him...just like the the butler Andrew says to Goldie Hawn in Overboard.  If only all of us had a personal Roddy McDowell as our life-critic.  Rather profound movie that Overboard...shows us the importance of looking at things by whatever means necessary, even if that means Society says "we've gone too far."  

2011 Primavera Sounds X-File

2nd to last billing for a legend and anyone that saw this, touched star dust and left a bread crumb trail for all the homeless souls off playing Autolux Tennis in the Fiery Furnaces of their temporal Cults...

On the Alabama Mix

Don't Resurrect the Dead

That computer-literate yin of Tommy Wiseau's yang, James Nugyen is at it again.  His long-awaited(?) follow up to the cult hit Birdemic: Shock & Terror now boasts a sleek trailer - including shots of Hollywood Blvd, an even hotter unknown blonde and crisper GGI imagery of 2D Eagletures.  But this time a familiar question looms at the heart of what makes art relevant: "Why are the Eagles and Vulture Attack?" Let me say that again: "Why are the Eagles and Vulture Attack?"

If Tommy Wiseau actually made a Room sequel, everyone would go nuts!  Something like uhhhhh I dunno: The Room 2: Tommy's Resurrection????  He could bring back Chris R...better than ever! Now with more than 5 fuckin' minutes for Denny!  Claudette would of course be dealing with the results of the test and dying of Breast Cancer, whereby frequent street football interludes would serve as levity.  The formula would appear too good to be true.  But alas, Tommy Wiseau, for as long as he remains an artist that wants to tell the truth of a unified collective consciousness amongst humanity, will not make a sequel.  Thank Tommy for that.  Because The Room 2 would only discredit the efforts that he so painstakingly underwent to make The Room a shitty movie that resonates with everyone who sees it.

Birdemic 2: The Resurrection is going to be a mockery of Birdemic (and the larger good bad movie genera) and it appears that my suspicion as to the true nature of James Nugyen the movie director has come true.  Honestly, the guy's website has a TM symbol next to "Romantic Thriller."  He's cashing in on making himself a boob. This will be an offensive, brain-cell-killing film to anyone looking at it from a standpoint of fandom.

Many people will absolutely love this Birdemic sequel, contribute to the movie, and further it's success, enabling James Nugyen to continue to cite Alfred Hitchcock on larger and larger stages turning himself into the idiot-savant I had hoped he was not.

Tommy Wiseau is not an idiot savant.  He's an artist who has committed to a craft.  He's brilliant. Completely misunderstood, but accepting of that and continuing to bridge gaps.

The James Nguyen model seems aimed at further polarizing Society by perpetuating the stereotypes of "lesser artists" and clueless observation in a talentless arena.

Waste no time with Birdemic 2: The Resurrection.  Good bad movies and potential cult classics are a product of misunderstanding, calamity and hammer-headed sentiments rather than the half-wit rallying efforts made by bastians of compassionate world shakers, and the wide-eyes of a money grubber.

In the meantime, let's all stick random discoveries, and Nguyen classics like Julie & Jack (2003).

Mad Freshy 90's

Quicksilver

Hurley

Billabong

Rusty

Redsand

O'neil

Mossimo

Stussy

No Fear

Volcom

- Fox Racing

- Roxy (girl version of Quicksilver)

- Reef

- RVCA

- Matix

- Rip Curl

- ...lost?

- Bad Boys Club (from Aaron)

- Element

- Ezekiel

- Nixon

Morey Boogie

skate brands included?

such as Stussy or Supreme?

Etnies

Vans

Adio

DC

Shorty's

World Industries

Independent

Girl

Think

Maple

Birdhouse

Krux (trux)

Lakai

Spitfire

Flip
Es

Cainianity

Feminist? Festivus.

She asked, "what do you want for diner?"

He won his first and only prize because dinner was reverent. The mere mention now sends chaos shots fired into the dark of his brain. Creation's radiation washed over him.  Now awake in the swirling and ripping ripples of starry ancient winds, sucking his chaotic thoughts into the burning twister of time-space.

A messenger dust body sent to vacuum up remaining fragments of true beauty and extol the refuse of linear time and space was now imbibing him.  Life giving liquid flashed before his heart and splashed off cardio-tendrils into the polluted innards of his host body - a trashy beach on Sagan's cosmic shore.

Like mythical Halcyon hovering at the crossroads of reliable forest and unpredictable sea, and some eons later that cross-dressing midwife Agnodice of Greece, he felt the female spirit rise up to service him from within, causing survival messengers to grow just and fair in his holy handed-heart.

Still,  only fragments of reality dotted his land from time to time like artifacts under sediment or lights over phoenix and under classified stamps.  The hold-outs from the last "great war" of his time needed a trampoline made of spam to touch star dust. It all stayed botched without femininity, somehow incomplete.

And where the rise of clitoral underdevelopment expanded the minds of worthwhile men, always stood a hold-out, complete with Dino DNA and double barrel scotch - playing the fool for the body of knowledge.

Forever pushing upon a force, there remains another force,  until universal-scaled conflict redefines what we have become and are to become.   And in fact, what is to become of us? And why does this man care?

Is he not sipping his spirits on indigo pools of the finest, aged to perfection sand? Who among him could believe that such death could carry his sack of rotting calcium deposits into the conscious dark matter that binds all in a see-through future perception reception of reality.

He'll not write an invitation to a future party like Steven Hawking, but rather join her in singing "turnstile blues" in line at Whole Foods as they both plan the immediate future, reusable bag, Burberry and Barbour, gluten-free tofu play-dough unborn daughter, Catskill trout and arguments over all-purpose Shout and endless plotting toward the immediate future with so little at stake, except steak.

The leather jacket with the tassels please

Things I learned from Fire Down Below: 

1. Steven Segal helps Harry Dean Stanton remove Kris Kristofferson's "toxic wastes" from Levon Helm's Appalachian Mennonite community
2. After the 3rd Leather Trench Coat is acquired, bolo tie not necessary
3. PB & J w/ Spam is Steven Segal's favorite sandwich
4. This movie is so good it inspired the movie Radical Jack staring Billy Ray Cirus
5. Sell all your honey and accept rides from the man with the leather jacket and the big red truck
6.  "The trouble with rich people is that sometimes they don't care about........others"
7. Budget = $60 million

• $55,000,000 (Segal)
• $1,000,000 (Levon Helm)
• $35,000 (Kristofferson)
• $3,965,000 (rights to Jimi Hendrix's "Little Wing")

The Flagshit of God-Fiction

The Mark (2012)

Directed By: James Chankin

Written By: Paul Duran, Leland Jourdan & John Patus

Produced By: James Chankin

Starring: Craig Sheffer, Eric Roberts & Gary Daniels

Rating: 0 out 5 Stars

The Testimony of Chad (Part 2 of 3: Chest-deep in the Trinity Myth)

Fuck!!!...my "Mark of the Beast" tattoo really itches…I know being a Hollywood actor is tough, but do I really HAVE to be the Devil’s man and attempt to kill Jesus Christ and cook him…"all trussed up like a pig on a spit!"…eating his flesh for sustenance.  For now, I will use my mad iMac remote skills to ensure that ALL the rich white people will be spared from the Rapture while I, with the help of my inter-racial lover, make like Robert Neville, and kill every last vampire and zombie on the Godless Earth to ensure a new chapter in unnatural, prolonged human survival.  It’s called Hell on Earth and it’s a warning to you, my unmarried Godless friends, that the Rapture is eminent, unless you leave the rich Christian white alone to interbreed a race of mayonnaise-tinted, Megalomaniacs that travel first class.

The Testimony of a non-faith-based viewer (Part 1 of 1: Activate Jammer!)

Personally, I like my God-Fiction with the best possible use of a Friends Church Multi-Purpose Room...something like the Passenger Cabin of an Airplane…so naturally, this movie has blessed me with many gifts.  At least they converted the Bathroom to the Airplane’s Cock-pit (the greatest single achievement of this film). Beyond that, I’m at a loss…Jeff Fahey’s chest-hair is this movie’s equivalent of The Ring of Power.

Long live Gary Daniels and Eric Roberts, who marginalize themselves in Society as "B- Actors" (even sometimes as twin False Prophet’s), revealing the Truth to those who look with open eyes.  The Truth that Christians, like all dogmatic groups, are kept afloat by “business men, not suicide bombers” (Subtext: business men, not Muslims).

A couple more things I learned from The Mark:

-When 10’s of thousands of people are missing, many of them are bound to be children.

-Butt sex is ok as long as it’s a Mexican (posing as a Redneck) ramming a Wannabe British Stripper (posing as a slutty Thai Stewardess) while the pair enjoys a 2-hour parachute decent to “Hell” (on Earth)

-The Mark aka Global Socialism Multi-Purpose Room Flight Simulator aka The Hand-Job Center: Home of the Dirty Foreigners aka The Long Overdo Rape of James Dobson

Attn: Scheer, Mantzoukas, & Diane Raphael

Gary Busey is a corrupt billionaire who dies and goes to purgatory where the angels send him back to Earth as a Pomeranian contracted to do good deads before he can get into heaven.

And now for the DVD bonus feature interview with Mr. Busey explaining the movie Quigley in his own words, detailing all its rich themes, its endless target audience and the similarities between "Gary Busey the man" and "Gary Busey the Pomeranian Purgatory Pup"

Now I realize that 1) HTGM doesn't really care to ponder the production intricacies of movies that really pale in comparison to greater conundrums, 2) the half ass formatting and design of my blog and blog entries pale greatly in comparison to even the most laughable depths of global blogging, and 3) ahhhh what the Hell...you guys heard me at Bell House loud and clear...Connie Nielsen is Danish, not Dutch!  The waking world needs more Gary Busey...hence why myself along with 3 friends silk-screened an outline of Gary Busey's cigar-smoking face on T-shirts 12 years ago in High School and proudly strutted the Southern California open-air halls adored with the face of a hero!

nation stands against him, he's your brother

hope my friend gets me this for Christmas

Message from the Baptismal Abyss

Whatever the smooth

interruption begs my heart

and the slogging beasts torture the flow from within

tearing windows in my soul 

Coping out, is the great mover 

and Equations not needed

Our heroine in flux

cheese and crackers tonight

and disease on the rise

with that indiscriminating Force pleading: 

"Change your course and dive like feather

you are under the cover of time

but pain is nukes...

duke em and rule again."

If I please...

but without you I am backwards pointless conundrum bones.

Cadence is illicit art for another time

Where the Smooth rides bitch...

and Soul rides shotgun 

with Heart behind the wheel

A gasp brought upon slowly is mere introspection

and its last laugh lies lazily 

abound the dark sea

clinging to energy for a savior 

and she sparkles when clutched pain free

free like unknown maritime depths 

where Evolution crumbles 

about face to her Truth

which scorns:

"Don't tempt me

in the calmest of moments

I choose the 10th string

and rest also 

with silky blanket

also romantic

a weekender on a country drive."

and the Aliens rejoice

but soon find little proof of gender, race, religion, sex.

Elysium is illicit art for another time

Where the Smooth picks dewy crisp brambles...

and Soul extracts honey from the hive

with Heart guzzling the crystal gulch.

When the monsters attack 

I become shopworn disgusting green goop 

stuck on the preface of communication

Slogging beasts skip my jugular

and Infinity's unborn child is being 

annihilated by my vice

Oh Hi Everybody!

The last line in The Room is:
I fed up with the Wuurrrrld. God...forgive me.
This is suicide mumbo-jumbo in typical fashion
But is this movie really about a suicide?
Is it really about anything?
In Tommy's mind, yes.
That's why it's resonated as the worst ever, because of the gravity of realness that the movie envelopes paired with every aspect of it being strictly awful.
But in Tommy's mind.
But in Tommy's mind.
I've often thought who is Wiseau?

1) Is he just an idiot savant...a fool we use for entertainment and leave it at that?

2) Is he that rare order of artist duping us all through genius (and/or Time Travel)?

3) Is he an alien occupying a (sort of) human-looking body?

I think I know now that 3 is rulled out.  I've watched the Room enough times to know it wasn't made by someone that grew up under a completely alien set of environmental conditions.  I also feel inclined to rule out 1, for Tommy may be the actor in the roll, but he's no idiot.  I long thought that these 3 options would suffice as options but now I found myself left with only 2 and it does not define Wiseau.  He's sure duping us but not intentionally.  He's not an idiot, but he is extraordinarily odd and I believe that he has made a conscious decision to commit societal suicide, by embracing his true self.  Problem is that his "True Self" bears most resemblance to the "Idiot Savant" or "Autistic Savant" that has been evolving in meaning through time.  How does someone who has touched such a core with humanity and brought them together the way he did completely on his own get slapped with such labels?  Think about it fans.  "I fed up with the Wuurrrrld. God...forgive me."  What is real to Wiseau?  His suicide is to be stuck in this roll that we view him in.  Most of us will never even begin to see something more than an idiot savant being laughed at while we join in.  But a few of us will know that he has committed societal suicide, in other words his roll in society is not his own but one all of us have given him and he's found a way to embrace that.  I think most people just go crazy (Whatever that means), but Tommy has decided to relate to people but in the roll of the odd idiot that keeps us entertained.  He's more than that, just like all people are more than what they appear.  Remember that fans.

A Scanner Darkly meets Aaron Sorkin

HMFMH

Hai Shower Darkly with Glory Humane...

Moving at Light-speed is a pun on existence... 

Figuring shit out must be endless.

Moving at Light-speed is a pun on existence.

Hai Shower Darkly with Glory Humane.

Moving Phototroupism: The Best Worst Movies to Enjoy

Today's Entry...
Battlefield Earth
Year: 2000
Director: Roger Christian
Writer: Corey Mandell & J.D. Shapiro (Screenplay), L. Ron Hubbard (Novel (?))
Notable Stars: John Travolta, Barry Pepper, Forest Whitaker, Kim Coates (Find Them! Kill Them! Now!)
6 Degrees of The Apple: (*This one’s a 3-way connection because it’s simply too awesome) The Apple was directed by Menahem Golan who also directed Over the Top starring Sylvester Stalone who directed Staying Alive starring John Travolta and also Finola Hughes who got her start as a dancer in The Apple.
Shit Stain Status: 100% Shitty (Ubiquitously soiled through by the bane of humanity…2 Kardashians & Chet Stetman’s Cup)
Description: Constantly referenced as the worst movie ever, Battlefield Earth is certainly in the mix due to its rare combination of project scale, critical panning, and entertaining laughability.  The debate is useless as there are too many movies of varying production value and accessibility out there that were all made by complete dildos.  What isn’t useless is Battlefield Earth itself, which resonates properly among lovers of unfathomable shit as a classic bad movie.  Complete with a 9ft-tall John Travolta Alien speaking 18th-Century English, diarrhea-colored jail slop coming out of giant vacuum tubes, “lowly Clinko language slave” learning computers, flight simulator CGI that is reminiscent of NeoGeo graphics, and lines such as “Crap lousy ceiling! I thought I told you to get some man-animals in here to fix this!,” this movie has everything you could ever want when attempting to answer the time old question: Were these guys serious?...High?...Or Aliens?

Mattershed

Time travel in stasis.

The slowest way to live.

The slowest way to die.

Slow retard on the misunderstood rise.

If society were right.

Crippled world

on a 2D day

there's a Perception watching 3D fly by

Time slog

Reaching around

feeling the sound

material melt

along the cosmic song

What is a raging mute?

Where does the mule ride free?

The slowest way to live.

The slowest way to die.

Time travel in stasis.

Realities nest

on a 2D day

sees a method for technology fall from the sky

Time voyage

Rebuffed rights

failing the others

at light speed in the room

What is a raging mute?

Where does the mule ride free?

The slowest way to love.

The slowest way to hate.

Time travel in stasis.

Spirit watershed 

all around

Better than Sideways says a lot

Citizen Ruth (1996)
Directed By: Alexander Payne
Written By: Alexander Payne
Rating: 5 out of 5 Stars

Artists are on the pulse of what is true.  The vehicle they use may not always ride alongside Carl Sagan in the scientific literacy-mobile that cruises the neighborhood of Vega, but they always understand what is altruistically on display with the presence of Love.

In Citizen Ruth, Alexander Payne, long before satirically mesmerizing us with Election, About Schmidt and Sideways, displays with little error, the tantamount failure of the "American experiment".  As Laura Dern's character walks, free and silent, on 1 side of a fence, the opposite side is toiling in a timeless racewar over her...beautifully symbolizing the devolution of humanity, and with this final scene, Payne not only ties up one of the singular films of the 90's, but swiftly evicts the American Political landscape from the roundtable discussion, aloft and lost in the cosmic range...endlessly searching for another corruptible intelligence.

We start Citizen Ruth with a familiar guttural feeling.  With the gritty reality of the gen-x burnout culture on full display, he has our unpleasant attention, but instead of holding our dorky 1983 heads in the toilet with repeated flushing, he fantastically removes our heads and places them in the owl's eye, whom eternally presides on higher ground with a calm gaze over the American countryside.  What we see is a miracle...Ourselves and our bullshit put on display as we culturally act in one perceived reality, while we timelessly act in a radically different one (The first: The Left & The Right THINK they are helping humanity, The Second: The Left & The Right actually ARE hurting humanity).  We see the members of both sides do not care about Laura Dern or Laura Dern's unborn child, nor have they ever.  In each character, with the acception of Dern (and possibly the verteren Harlan), where some level of compassion may have existed, it was only replaced in time by the lie of Political Affiliation...the misappropriated value set of the American individual on full display.  Whether it be Religion, Politics, Cultural Heritage, Race, Gender is not  more important this corruptible will of the individual extant in Society.  Payne uses the Abortion issue as a very appropriate and smart vehicle to tell his 1997 story, but it easily could've been swapped for another.

He tells us that we make up our own minds, independently of all others, including parents, wives, husbands, priests, god, little talking heads trapped in our lamps, etc.  We are lucky to have the help of artists like Payne, who take what we know (even for a split second) to be true and articulate it.  We are lucky that he is able to articulate through the use of comedy.  And we are lucky that Laura Dern's character has what this reviewer believes to be the only possible outcome with her child: that child becoming miscarried through a proven motive (thank you Stu Silver)...a Mother addicted to "Huffing" and bent on self-destruction.  Thankfully she is saved in this fairy tale satire by the masses that killed her child by not saving her first.  A more than slight existential angle, but irrelevant in a satirical fantasy...we see the problem continuing to exist and it's up to us to fix it.

Payne's most relevant and witty overall work.  The fact that it's his first film only validates his further success.  To date, with the acception of The Descendants, he is a person consistently able to tell us something about ourselves complete with the visionary talents he shares with other great Directors.

Thoughtless Ecological Placebos

Ted C-Toe-D was a Sawman.  Through and through Ted tried tiresomely, at least, and thumblessly at times to stop deforestation by taking a saw to the scrots or vajayjays of any people that still sat on maple while scribing on lined sheets of processed oak and even those who Sammy Sosa’d Baseballs over the Center Field fence with wooden bats.  To call him a “Treehugger” was a graphical error.  The parabolas of his human life weren’t traceable by other known living beings.  It was not hyperbole to say he was a Hyperbrachycephalic…his cephalic index soared to new heights where he put it to lovely use.

Sawmen were like any post-apocalyptic/dystopian renegade black market Capitalists, only they were as real as 39-cent tacos.  Like Mic Jagger dressed in leather, they were Bonejackers, but seeking rogue “Trees” instead of rogue “Emilio Estevez’s.”  They needed to locate the remaining trees, and beat the moribund philistines to the punch, saving the trees, but preserving air and promoting the causes for evolution, rather than interplanetary cannibalistic terraforming and half-wit romanticism of Lucullan bliss.  1977 Kenny Loggins contributions of yachting and casual coke usage were considered ubiquitously campy by the year 2143, and to boot, Mike Judge WAS a future traveler and the “Idiocracy” he bore witness to was never once lavish, even in its heyday.

Ted was classically free.  He gave into the fancy of the night with a v-shaped monocular chest inscription and in one failed (Cheryl) Swoop, summed up what the sexually explicit, wampum jewelry adorned, Ecologists could not in 400 years of popular advocacy: charting alien inhabitance in all living matter, endlessly craving air...a vampiric life force with no beginning and no end.

In other words, he knew better than most that the Universe was expanding and he was beginning to grasp dark matter's enigmatic role.  Oxygen was nothing more than an artifact of a single form of life under a certain set of conditions, whereas air remained a constant…a constant ever expanding mess heap of useful and useless gasses and non-gasses, beneficial and non-beneficial where respiration existed and where it was replaced in anaerobic scenarios.  Society dubbed it a Atmospheric Maelstrom.

Threatening to humanity and all its pseudo-intelligence like never before, it was more or less a Galactic Succubus which Scientists had determined benign until it began gaining power…and like Mega Maid never did it went from Suck! To Suck Harder!  No replenishing of the destroyed Ozone layer through the planting of saplings could save the reality hominids of Earth and the predictions of few quietly set in to the subconscious stubbornness of the masses.

Everyone knew it by the time air was, rationally, rationed…including all the stirrups in the Fudge manufacturing plant…as their burnt-aubergine superintendent told ‘Shit Storm Weekly’ in a recent interview; “Not just 6 minutes ago, we knew collectively that solving the atmospheric maelstrom caused by centuries of deforestation was not as simple as planting trees and we have since pulled the plug on all support of the Twix Corp’s ‘2 For You and Me’ tree planting campaign.”  This was an astounding statement considering these were the same Stirrups whom once believed that a sought after Sawman sewed seaweed sleds silently solo somewhere south of Ted’s home.  In other verbosity, it was tough for them to accept the failure of Zeitgeist Ecology efforts (such as the Twix Corp and other benevolent non-profits), because a good Sawman was difficult to come by in the years following the raging conflagrations between foreskin consuming Ecologists and embryonic Yak Splicers (later known as Sawmen). 

The forests of Earth had been largely depleted and Twix Corp…had even cut an album with the hologram-clone of a 1996 Shaquille O’neal, entitled “Gotta Be Twixsm For Life!”  It did little to stop the maelstrom which had already sucked up the entire shoe collection of the island state of Palau and the entire population of castrated Western Chorus Frogs not to mention all extant hair extensions south of Olympic BLVD in the Greater Metropolitan Region of Los Angeles and 49% of the rice farmer’s pitchforks in the Guangdong Provence of China.  Thank god the extinct hair extensions were safe in the landfills of Simi Valley and most Frogs of Earth still croaked when that mightly ‘ol sun pales the azure sky upon Gaia’s routine pirouette.

It was high time for Tim to either become fabled hero or sap his soul for the hope of another in the name of Love. His story is largely untold.