...by the Scottish Masters of the Hemisphere is their best record EVER. Believe it. It's like they took all the ideas that went into ubersong "Your Cover's Blown" and made a record out of it. It's the best thing to come out of Scotland since 1776's essential tome on the merits of free and unfettered mishchief. Either way, any band that wrote a song about Mike Piazza's bouts with media charges of homosexuality is OK in my book. Sauce thought I
was gay when we first met. Apparently he thought I was coming onto him. Nice to know that the 4th or 5th greatest catcher of all time and I have something in common, besides our abilities to, as Sauce would say, regularly hit home runs with the yellow bat.
On another note, Sauce's future ex-husband and I spent Friday night watching the trilogy- concluding Ninja III: The Domination
, which really has nothing to do with the first two films, save the reliance on 80s Ninja giant, Sho Kosugi. I know that KB has already written on N3 over at Oceanchum, particularly with reference to the V8 drenched sex scene. I feel compelled to make further comment.
The defining moment of the film comes when the female protagonist poses the following question to Lord Kosugi:
"Is it true that only
a ninja can kill another ninja?"
it true that only
a ninja can kill another ninja?" The question struck me as one of those age old questions that turns the very idea of an age old question on its end, a question for which the answer can only be found with the help of some old Rosicrucian text, or in that church in Nebraska that supposedly contains the gate to hell. I can't stop thinking about it.
The crucial scene for awesomeness comes when a ninja disarms a potential assailant by using a blowgun to fire a projectile into the barrel of said assailant's gun, causing the projectile to collide with the oncoming bullet, destroying the gun and the assailant. Awesome.
Ultimately, the film is kind of like John Boorman's Excalibur
, or the 1962 New York Mets, or the first Godz album, or that drunk couple JY and I sat watching for about 20 minutes, completely transfixed, as they threw darts hapharzardly at the pool table, the stairs, and finally, the dart board--a visual and aural experience akin to a slow trainwreck that is simultaneously completely captivating. I'll watch it with anyone that invites me.
Lastly, apparently the Sauce has a new way to get revenge on current Christians, future frat-boys and republicans: he's grading their papers. No more dates via the check out desk.