"See?" I said. "This should prove that I really do love Liam Neeson. I just like to see him get his giant arse kicked by men smaller than him."
"What? Darth Maul ain't small."
"He's about a head shorter than Liam Neeson, with the horns and the hood."
"What? No way."
I pull up my Kicking Giant Arse music weedio. She watches.
"Damn! You're right! Well, what does he really look like?"
"You've never seen Ray Park?" I asked, disbelieving what I thought I was hearing. I was hearing right.
"Ohhhh, let me show you him!" And I played for her the Wushu Goodness video that I keep on tap, thanks to some kind soul who compiled all the footage. But it never really shows his face. So, I told her I'd show her my favourite pic of him sans the Maul make-up.
I show her.
"Okay," she said. "Stop joking around. I know you're on about Tim Roth, but I want to see Ray."
"That is Ray."
"You just let me borrow Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead, Tracy. That's Tim Roth."
"No," I said. "What are you on about?"
And I pull up a R&GRD picture. And put it beside my Ray picture. And...
( just look )
Aunt Tudi had her other trigger finger surgery today. Before we left for the surgery suite, she had to see the doctor and sign paperwork and whatnot. So we did that. As we left, the receptionist stopped me and asked, “Girl, what is that on your shirt? Is that….is that the Joker?”
“Nooooo! This is Darth Maul!” I said proudly, popping my boobs out a tad to accentuate Maul’s gigantic face. “You know, from Star Wars?”
She gave me this incredulous look, which told me she knew naught of which I was speaking. That made me rather sad, but what also flipped me out was that she’d confuse Maul of people with The Joker. What? I mean….really? You’ve got to be…joking me!
But I took it as a “sign from God” that I should use this opportunity, and use it, I did. “Do you like the Joker?” I asked.
“Oh no…but my daughter…” Eye roll with obligatory ‘pfffft…’ “She’s crazy about him. She loves that Joker!”
And she meant that, not getting the Burton in-joke she just shared with me.
“Well, if she loves the Joker, boy have I got something she will adore! Tell her to go to this site and watch all the episodes in order, they’re numbered. Then tell her that, if she likes them, once she stops laughing her butt off, she needs to subscribe to the channel and then visit this site and join the forum. Have her join in the conversation about the Blogs and take part in the tasks to come, ‘cos it’s gonna be lots of fun and, if you’re a Joker fan, it’s gonna be a blast.”
She took the URLs I’d written down for her to give to her daughter, then looked up at me. “So this isn’t Heath Ledger doing this?”
“No, it’s a young actor who’s picked up the Joker where Heath left him off. It’s a kind of a tribute to Heath Ledger and his brilliant performance, but the actor has also made the Joker character his own. We’re hoping that Nolan will take notice of him but, if he doesn’t we’re also hoping that his brilliant acting in this and in other things will pave a clear road straight to success in his career as an actor.”
“Oh so you know him?”
“Well, no, not really. Well, kinda. Well, I know of him. Well, I sort of know him. Okay, it’s kind of complicated. We’re all calling him Blog Boy until he takes off the Joker war paint, so let your daughter know that’s his unofficial name at the moment. Either that or Joker Blogs Dude. Or whatever she wants to call him.”
“What’s his name?”
“I can’t tell you that. Just pass those on to her. Watch them yourself! I bet you’ll find them hilarious! And, if you need to get in touch with me over there, I’m Tinhuviel on the TJB.com website.” And I wrote my name on the paper as well.
So a woman mistakenly identifying Sith Lord Darth Maul as the Joker of all people may have gotten two more converts to The Joker Blogs.
Still though….Darth Maul? The Joker? Ne’er the twain should meet! Somehow they did….
A Sith Lord PR Ninja’s work is never done.
OH PS: What do you think of my icon? luvthyjoker made it because she is a freakin' MASTER at Photoshop. The End-d.
1. Is there someone you know you should hate, but you can't?:
This is ridiculous. I hate everyone. I hate you.
2. Do you like someone as more than a friend right now?:
Filthy rumours abound that the twit Obi-Wan and I are engaged in licentious activity. This is patently untrue and I will gladly strike down the person who has been spreading these lies. Sith do not .... get jiggy..... with Jedi.
3. What does your 8th text say?
Sith do not text.
4. Have you ever lost anybody close to you?:
I have no one close to me.
5. Is there anyone you trust even though you should not?
I trust no one.
6. Ever given your all to someone who walked away?:
My master, but this was expected. It is the Sith Way. Just as he walks away, so do I plan on separating his ugly head from his lumpy body.
7. Relationship or hook-up?
Sith do not do relationships, so I guess hook-ups are the preferred method of exhausting pent-up....rage.
8. Few close friends or many acquaintances?:
9. Ever loved someone that wasn't good for you?
No. I do not love.
10. How's your heart lately?
Like a cold lump of Iridonian granite. Perfect.
11. The last song you listened to?:
"Narayan" by The Prodigy, which is an appropriate Sith song.
12. If you could change your name to anything what would it be?:
Darth Maul is my name change. It used to be Khameir Sarin. I much prefer my new Sith name.
13. What do you hate about your school?
Some days I wonder if the Sith Academy exists only to hone my rage. Then I realise that it actually is.
14. Would you move to another country to be with the one you love?:
I do not love anyone, but I would move to another country if it gave me a better chance to slay the one I hate.
15. Which one of your friends do you think would make a good prostitute?
Sith do not have friends.
16. Are you afraid of falling in love?:
No, because Sith do not fall in love.
17. Fill in the gap. i love ____
18. What are you wearing right now?:
My Sithly robes.
19. Right or Left?:
I am ambidextrous. It's part of the training...
20. Favorite juice?:
21. Have you had the chicken pox?:
There's no such thing in the Star Wars universe.
22. Ever been to Mexico?:
No, but I'm intrigued by Montezuma's Revenge.
23. Are you a forgiving person?:
Sith never forget and we never forgive.
24. Are you talking to someone while doing this?
No, I am meditating on my next round of practice sessions.
25. What school plays were you part of in elementary school?:
I was not.
26. What do you want to do with your life?
I was to rise up, strike down my Master, become Sith Master, and exact revenge on all Jedi.
27. If a bear attacked you, would you know how to defend yourself?
Yes. I would slay it with my double-ended light saber, then pose over its steaming corpse whilst cackling in triumph. (Posing and Cackling 101)
28. Do you think it would be more fun to model or to shoot the photographs?:
I would be more fun to pretend to model, then shoot the photographer.
29. Are you younger than 21?:
30. Do you like winter?:
It is preferable to Summer. Try wearing Sith Robes on Tatooine
31. Are you in a relationship?:
Sith don't do relationships.
32. Do you like fruit?:
It is functional for body fortification. I must keep my primary weapon at optimum level.
33. How clean is your room?:
It is immaculate.
34. What are you excited for?
Revealing myself to the Jedi and finally having revenge.
35. Do you have feelings for anyone?:
I feel nothing but disdain and derision for all.
36. Do you fall for guys/girls easily?
Sith do not fall for guys/girls....period.
Yeah, that Peter Serafinowicz. "Tatooine is sparsely populated. If the trace is correct, I will find them quickly, my Master."
Y'know...the voice of Darth Maul. That's like .... well, I don't know what's that like.
I'm emitting that beeeeep sound you hear at the beginning of BRB. Perpetually.
O_O This is the face I'll have all day. Until luvthyjoker is finished with me, then it will change to o_0.
Why can't I live a normal life? Oh that's right...I bring it on myself. ::lodges a spork in her eye::
So here we go...
- therealljidol: I was a competitor in the first season of LJ Idol when there were like 3 people fighting like emaciated canines over the chicken bone that was the title of LJ Idol Winner. Being the vicious dog that I am, I won the competition. Since then, LJ Idol has become somewhat of a phenomenon not only on Live Journal, but also on the Internet, being one of those sublime occurrences that allows people to stretch out their writer's muscles while making new friends. It's not just a competition for writers; it's a gathering place for creative people who who want to be a part of something that helps define the word groovy. Even though I know there's no way I could ever win, not with all the talented individuals vying for the title now, I'd still love to be a part of the competition, just for the heck of it. Actually, I do participate on the peripheries of the competition. If there's a prompt I feel compelled to write on, then I will. I get to enjoy the writerly aspects of the competition without stressing over the competitive aspects. Fae Publishing is in the process of producing a book showcasing the best of what LJ Idol has had to offer over the years. I'm happy to say I'm a part of this undertaking. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I'd be able to say "Yo! I'm a published writer!" because of something clauderainsrm, of all people, would cook up out of that demented can of potted meat he calls a brain. I guess that means I have to be all grateful to him, for at least the next ten minutes. So, Gary? Thaaaaanks...
- Spork: Ah the Mighty Spork! I like to say the word 'spork' almost as much as I do 'weasel.' And the mere thought of a weasel with a spork sends my imagination into never-before-explored regions of full-on hilarity. It's like something Eliza Doolittle would be forced to repeat constantly before going on that cotillion date with Professor Higgins: "A snorkel of weasels must spackle with the spork when it rains in Spain all the zippity-doo-dah-day!"
If I ever opened a restaurant, I would name it the Golden Spork and I'd have a giant spork out front like the monolith from 2001: A Space Odyssey. It would greatly amuse me to see patrons of my establishment react to my giant spork in much the same way the apes did the monolith in the Kubrick film.
Then, of course, there's the entire re-writing of the Spoon scene in The Matrix to better fit the whole Spork Motif. Yes, there's a Spork Motif. At least, there is now. Here on the Cliffs, we're all about sporks and weasels. Don't ever forget it.
- Buttah: I have an aunt on the Mother Unit's side of the family who is the epitome of Mike Myers' Coffee Talk lady. She even gets verklempt. That's really apropos of nothing except for the fact that the Coffee Talk lady declares things she admires to the utmost to be like buttah. I tend to do the same. If I mention that something is like buttah, I really like it. If I state that something "is like a big stick o'buttah," that pretty much means it's so awesome, it will clog your arteries with nothing but pure win. For instance, the Gorillaz are like buttah, but Shriekback is like a big stick o'buttah. Law & Order is like buttah, but Law & Order: SVU is like a big stick o'buttah. Han Solo is like buttah, but Darth Maul is like a big sexy stick o'buttah! Dig?
- Fanfic: That thing I'm not writing at the moment and it may be too late to even finish it now. We'll see. I actually just learnt that people write fanfiction about actual living, breathing people. Like this one chick on Twitter writes Green Day fanfiction. I don't think I could ever do such a thing. My fanfiction has to be about fictional characters only, thankyouverymuch. And, believe it or not, I've not written that much fanfic. My first sojourn in that realm of fandom was writing Darth Maul fanfic back in 1999 and 2000 for the Darth Maul Estrogen Brigade. My second fanfic outing has been Joker fanfiction, mainly the Date Series, written for Rancid Rainbow. The majority of my fanfic has been erotic, but that's not to say all of it is erotic. A couple of my Maul fics were comedies and some of my J-fic has ranged from Jungian/occultish to dreadfully misanthropic. I even collaborated on a fiction, which I usually never do. It resulted in the first of a two part 'interview' written by dandyxrandy and myself. Writing fanfiction helped break a horrible block with which I'd been struggling back in 1999, so I figure I will always return to the medium as inspiration strikes because it's it's too fun not to dabble with and it really helps work on the writer bone.
- Izzard: One of my greatest heroes and quite possibly the most quotable human being on the planet. When green_goblin7t introduced me to Eddie Izzard, I was instantly in awe and in love. The man is a brain in a frock. Simple as that. Really, words just fail me when it comes to Eddie Izzard. He's....my hero!
Don'tcha just insomniac incoherence? Whee!
Nothing like some Wu Shu to get a girl's blood to boiling.
So, when clumsycake called me yesterday, she asked what I was doing. I told her I was writing my final Date Night story and twiddling my thumbs until the next installment of The Joker Blogs came out. She didn't know what I was talking about because she 1) hadn't seen The Dark Knight yet and 2) had yet to see The Joker Blogs. I knew she couldn't get the full-on goodness of the Blogs without seeing the movie first to witness the miracle of Heath Ledger's performance. So I asked all innocent like, "Whatcha doing tomorrow?" She said she didn't know. "You do now. You're coming over to my place to watch The Dark Knight, then you're gonna watch The Joker Blogs. No isn't an option."
Nowclumsycake is of the same mind as I am about Batman. No Michael Keaton, no Batman. I explained to her that the movie wasn't about Batman, as far as I was concerned. "Forget Batman. He's secondary. Just watch the Joker." When she got here today, since no wasn't an option, I would have had the Kool-Aid ready, but I didn't have any. She did bring Aunt Tudi some Crystal Light though, but that doesn't count. We watched the movie. We watched the Joker Blogs.
clumsycake is now a convert. For that matter, Aunt Tudi has begun to see the hypnotic draw of the Joker and she can't keep her eyes off the computer screen when the Joker Blogs Dude is on talking about his "delicate features and feathery hair."
Yea, verily, and hallelujah. Let the Kool-Aid flow.
It's different than when I channel Cadmus because Cadmus isn't channeled in the same way; rather, he's a possessive sort of character, possessing my writing rather than channeling so that I can write. It's pretty much an unpleasant experience, but one that I've grown to need over the years. He's my psychic heroin, I guess you could say. The Joker is more like appearing when he needs to and giving me nudges in the direction I need to go to make him happy with the story. The only time he reminded me of Cadmus was when I was writing "The Nun's Date." I guess that's why I'm not as fond of that one.
My current intent is to write my thirteenth, and last, Date Night story. It doesn't necessarily mean that I won't be writing more Joker stories, though. Just no more Date Nights. This is merely my intent. That doesn't necessarily mean that my intent will be listened to or adhered to by my personal Joker, and that's okay. Writing J is tons more fun than writing Cadmus, or even Maul, for that matter. It's liking writing either one of them holding a big bag of slinkies or juggling a couple of jack-in-the-boxes. A bit hard or surreal to imagine, but it's like that, just like that.
I get in a double whammy with what I've written so far. I get my Heath reference (Ned Kelly) and a nod to the Joker Blogs Dude ("Kelly? That's...that's a girl's a name) all in one tiny scene. I'm proud of that. So here's the beginning of the final Date Night. Where it goes, only Mister J knows. Oh, and apologies to those who had grown to love Sidney. Sorry. It's J's world and nobody lives very long in Joker-land, unless you're a hedgehog.
It was hot. Interminably so. The Joker hated heat and Gotham was hot, so he hated Gotham too. He peered out of the abandoned building in which he was currently holed up, cursing the loss of the posh mill house to which he’d grown accustomed. Hell, Arkham was more comfortable than this dump. He was barefaced, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He’d used a popsicle stick and a paper plate to make a fan with some scotch tape he’d found. Sitting by the broken window, hoping for a breeze, the Joker fanned himself with his makeshift fan and cursed his bad luck.
There’d been no sign of the Batman, even after all the Joker’s personal gifts and messages, but home base was raided by a pack of blue shirts led by Commissioner Gordon himself in the middle of the night. They barely made it out, but not without some losses, the worst of which was Sidney and the Joker’s new Gordon Ramsay. He was without good food and a trusted good, thanks to Gotham’s Finest. And now there was this godawful heatwave. He scowled, the corners of his mouth turned downward, despite the scars constantly pulling upward in an incessant grin. Just once, the Joker would like to really frown and it not look like a parody. His scowl deepened. Turning away from the window, he walked over to his computer, which was set up next to Leopold’s habitat. Leopold had been in a ball for the past 24 hours, as freaked out by the hustled move as everyone else had been. He looked over at his hedgehog and said, “Mammalian pill bug, that’s what you arrrre Leopold.”
Leopold ignored him in his self-protection mode. The Joker shrugged his shoulders and fanned his face. Things looked bleak, what with losing most of the cash and his closest henchman. He tried to look on the bright side, though: at least he didn’t have to kill Sidney himself now! The Joker sighed and juggled his iPod carefully into the air in front of him in between bouts of fanning. What was this any way, the fucking Deep South? Fucking miserable weather. It was enough to make him go on a killing spree.
They say that heat causes acts of violence to rise. And god makes heat, so thank god!
Ever since the untimely death of Sophia Carteres and the raid on the Joker’s lair, things had been hanging on a precipice in Gotham. Just one little push and everything would fall into the Abyss that is pure madness, or pure enlightenment, depending on one’s point of view. The Joker liked to consider himself enlightened, like a mad wandering shaman who’d just soon rip your head off as give you the secret to Life, the Universe, and Everything. He was Zaphod and Deep Thought all rolled into one. And, right now, he was a fucking sweltering Zaphod. Maybe he should ditch this dig, move to the Deep South, and kill everybody. It’d could be chalked up to euthanasia. He may even be proclaimed a hero.
The Joker blew forcefully through his lips. He needed some fun. Once the sun began to go down, he’d don his outfit and apply his war paint. He’d then go out on a date. But what sort of girl was he in the mood for? He’d had nurses, singers, crazy punk rock girls, even a nun. Who else out there could he woo to his chamber? The Joker thought, listening to his music the entire time. Nobody that really seemed extremely palatable came to mind. Again, the Joker blew through his mouth, stretching the scars on his face. When he did this, their presence was made even more apparent to him. They no longer hurt him, but he was well aware that they were there….forever. A long-tended rage surged freshly through the Joker’s solar plexus and he was determined to reclaim what was his and staple the make-shift fan he was forced to use to the forehead of whomever was responsible for losing him his mill house.
A knock at the door.
“Come in…” the Joker mumbled.
It was a henchmen he’d never seen before. “Mister J, any plans for tonight?”
“Yes, I’m going into town tonight. What’s your name?”
“Kelly?” The Joker raised his dark blonde eyebrows at the criminal in his service. “-That’s…That’s a girl’s a name.”
“That’s my last name, sir. My first is Ned.”
The Joker looked at him for a minute. “You’re Ned Kelly.”
“Helluva name, Ned-d. Do we have a car yet?”
“Just stolen. An Oldsmobile.”
“It’ll have to do. I’ll be down by sundown. Be behind the wheel or don’t-t be here at all."
Wow. Just wow! It's the Maul Bug! I want one for a pet.
Experts have been baffled by the presence of an unidentified insect in parts of London.
One great thing is the most unexpected find ever here in Right Wing Central: A Pentagram tote bag! Actually, there were about a dozen Pentagram tote bags, all of them different colours mixed with black. And they were for cheap, just $6.50. That's a almost a gallon and a half of gas! Whoa! I bought the red and black one, because I'm a Sith Witch and all. I took a picture of it being held by Aunt Tudi and shall include it with all the flea market pics I took. Enjoy, dammit! I sure didn't, so somebody has to!
( A Day at the Flea Market )
Now that I've made everyone who reads my journal as miserable as me, I believe I have achieved my goal for the day. All in a day's work, for a Sith, that is. Heheheheheheh.
* Tin's term for the ferocious cantaloupe, which smells and tastes exactly like unwashed arse. Those who disagree may kiss Tin's arse. That is all.
Last night I got to see Shaun of the Dead. It was one I'd been wanting to see for a couple of reasons: 1) I'd heard it was damned brilliant and 2) I'd heard that Peter Serafinowicz is in it. When I saw the movie was coming on, I'd forgotten about #2 and was very pleasantly surprised.
First off, let me say that this movie is a great big ole hoot. This is a movie I am now hellbent on having on DVD. All of the characters are likable, the pacing of the story is spot-on, and the comedy is perfectly balanced with just the right amount of horror and drama. I think Simon Pegg is a gift to movie geeks worldwide.
Now, for Peter Serafinowicz. I have literally spent years wondering what he really looked like and wanting to hear him speak some more. See, I know his voice well.....oh so well. For folks who may not know, Mr. Serafinowicz is the voice of Darth Maul. Ray Park is Maul in appearance and mad Kung Fu moves, but Peter Serafinowicz provides Darth Maul's sultry, growly, sexy voice. Nothing can send me into fits quicker than "Tatooine is sparsely populated. If the trace is correct, I will find them quickly, Master." I'd only seen Peter in a small role in a movie called The Magical Legend of Leprechauns, but it was so brief and he was so far away, I really couldn't get a good look at him. Pictures of him online are few and far between, so I was thrilled to see his extensive pre-zombie scene in Shaun of the Dead.
( The Voice of Maul )
I knew he was cute, but I didn't realise he was so blasted good-looking. I have a weakness for men with large eyes, pale skin, and small mouths. That 80s music star/Elven look always fries my ice cream. I caught myself thinking, "He's even fine as a zombie. Yeah, I'd let him bite me, especially if he talks to me with that Sithly voice."
Always shall I be grateful for my role in the tale:
They all saw them then, a hundred dark shapes approaching the port doors. One by one they entered; each knew exactly whom he was seeking. One carried a CD in his hand.
"This is my new album, entitled 'Songs Barry Andrews Would Have Written If He Were Me.' " SithVixen's mouth moved soundlessly and she followed him out as if in a trance.
I've been part of many groups, mailing lists, clubs, what-have-you since I got online in 1998, but I've never felt such a sense of belonging and camaraderie anywhere like I did with the DMEB. Sometimes I think I'll go to my grave missing and trying to recapture that groovy vibe we Sithsters generated there.
As always, I have issues with this response.
First off, I never thought I'd ever receive anything by way of communication from Barry Andrews that involved the word "dong." I don't know whether to scratch or whine.
Secondly, thanks to my love affair with the Mighty Darth Maul, I could never quite get around the line "two red circles and a thick black spine" without thinking of Maul's balls. In fact, that line inspired my only Nude Maul picture. I drew him with literally "two red circles and a thick black spine." But I was always rather ashamed to take this portion of the song "Lined Up" so literally, forever assuming it carried a loftier meaning. I was both right and wrong.
Again...scratch or whine?
I don't think I've been this embarrassed since I introduced myself to B on the phone as Ms. Andrews.
If anyone needs me, I'll be under that rock over there.