It is time for yet another Porocrom post. To those of you who said that this site is dead, we can only say “shut up, it’s not dead, it’s only dying”. This time, the amazing review will concern the movie 300. The review is brought to you by Dark Tranquillity’s Ex Nihilo and a watchplate. So, 300. Granted, I haven’t actually seen the movie, but hey, this is the internet, you’re what you say you are, so fuck if I’m not going to write a review. While I’m at it, I am a movie critic and a historian who specialises in ancient Sparta.

Before watching the movie, I constantly heard all kinds of criticism about it, so you can imagine that I was more than a little curious to see if it would be justified or not. The Iranians were like “Persians are portrayed as goddamn fairies”. Goddamn fairies were like “man, those spartans are hot”. Spartans were like “Dude, what the fuck, ancient spartans were actually wearing armor, but who the fuck cares, those spartans are hot. Plus the Persians are kinda gay, are we sure they actually wanted to make war, not love?”. I’ll let you know when I do watch it, but in the mean time, I can tell you one thing. That movie is so fucking unrealistic. Seriously. For one, spartans weren’t all ripped. There’s not one spartan with a pot belly in that movie, or even one whose abs’ indentations are less than two inches deep. I happen to know for a fact that in the original battle there was one guy who liked to have one beer too many occasionally, but they still kept him around as a human shield or for fetching the drinks.

Also, what the fuck is up with the sun? The colors are all wrong. Have you ever seen the sky being that red? We are forced to conclude by the cinematography that ancient sparta’s atmosphere was part methane, either because of the flatulence all those beans caused or because of the fact that the movie actually takes place on Mars.

Shit, there are so many things wrong with the movie, I don’t know where to begin. Fuck, I bet those guys weren’t even 300. I bet they just said that to sound cool. “Hey, we’re 300 and we killed like, a million persians! Of course, we’re all dead, so, come to think of it, there’s really noone to tell you this, but it’s still cool as fuck. Also, the previous sentence contains profanity unbecoming a spartan”.

While I’m at it, I should warn you about some other unrealistic movies. For example, Terminator 2. God that movie sucked. Remember the scene where the Governator is on the motorcycle (by the way, on the high-def version you can clearly see it’s not the Governator, but I digress)? Remember how he like, twirls his gun like a well built, masculine cheerleader twirling a baton to reload it? THAT SHIT NEVER HAPPENS IN REAL LIFE. I got a sawed-off shotgun and tried to reload it like that, and I fucking shot myself in the face! Twice! It’s impossible for that to happen, yet I don’t see the persians or the Terminators complaining about that. You know why? Because the Terminator minority is misrepresented in the world, but that’s a whole other post.

So, 300. I have another bone to pick with the movie, which is that the music playing in the background (on the trailer, anyway) is totally out of place. No spartan would be playing that music in the background, alternative rock wasn’t invented until a few millennia later. The movie is just rife with inaccuracies. Also, if Ephialtes was born in sparta, they’d have thrown his ass down a cliff, not given him a lollipop and a bullshit excuse. “Aww, U R 2 KEWT, but ur 2 short 4 hold teh shield, sorri ^_^”. Fuck that.

That movie totally pissed me off. I should probably watch Harry Potter or something to cool off. Harry Potter contains no inaccuracies whatsoever, by the way. That is all.

A few years ago, a movie called Saw came out, and stupid viewers the world over watched it and cried in unison “Wow, that was so unexpected. I just came in my pants”. If you haven’t seen the movie, it’s about some guy killing people by putting them in situation where escape is hard (such as trapping a guy in a device that will crush his face and putting the key behind his eye or some shit), and enjoys watching what they do.

So, these two dudes wake up in a room with a corpse one day, and try to escape. After many trials and tribulations, it is revealed that the murderer was a patient of one of the two dudes, and we see him in the movie for two fucking seconds. Literally, he’s lying in a bed during a scene, he doesn’t even have a line. In the end, the dead body with the bashed head that has been in the room for the last two hours stands up and it is revealed that hey, that’s no dead body, it’s the murderer. This is the point where people go “wow, I did not see that coming”.

A good movie surprise must consist of two elements: Giving you hints all over the place, and the outcome still being totally unexpected. Sixth sense was a good surprise. Saw excels in the second element, but only because it fails miserably in the first. It’s very fucking easy to do something unexpected when you haven’t shown anything relating to it during the whole fucking movie. A dead guy gets up, and whoop-de-doo, nobody expects it. Of course you don’t expect it, you idiot, it wasn’t hinted at at all! Would you still think the movie rocked if the murderer came out a flowerpot?

I am thinking of making a movie as well, and since audiences are so easy, it will be an instant hit. It’ll feature gory murders and major plot holes, but in the end some dude will come in and be like “I did all the murders because I am going to die some day and I wanted you all to die before me! Also, I am responsible for all the plot holes, and I have been hiding in this flowerpot for the entire movie! How obvious was that?!”. I can see it now, it will be the highest grossing movie of all time. Noone will expect the ending, even though the killer will have been right there under their noses the entire time. Maybe I’ll add a flowerpot watermark on the lower right corner of the screen, too, thus making it the only movie ever that featured the killer in every single scene with no one being any the wiser. It’s brilliant, brilliant!

So yeah, there’s this dismembered dude in the middle of the room for some twelve hours, and neither of the characters notices he’s alive. No “Hey, this guy’s breathing”, no “Who farted? It was you, wasn’t it? Well, it wasn’t me, so it’s either you or the dead guy! Oh, wait…”, no nothing. And in the end the guy just gets up and is like “Hello gentlemen, I am really alive, my severed head was really just makeup, how good am I, huh”!

I am in awe of how stupid people can be while thinking they’re Sherlock Holmes. “Wow, how could I have missed that? He was there the entire time, and I am very very good at spotting these hints, therefore my hat’s off to the writers”. Nobody considers that the reason they might not have expected the dead guy to be the killer is that the guy is fucking dead!

Please, please, if you have seen this movie and think it is the best thing since anal sex with a young Thai boy, please comment here and tell me why you find it so brilliant, I am very much interested in hearing your opinions (so I can mock you afterwards for being an idiot).

Hi…

I’m that guy.

You don’t know me, but you’d definitely recognize me if you saw me.

I’m the guy who always pukes first at the party and forces his friends to look after him so he doesn’t die.

I’m the guy who starts shit with random guys at bars, just to see the reaction.

I’m checking out your girlfriend, even though I know you guys are still together.

I’m the guy who swoops IN on your girlfriend at the first sign of trouble between the two of you.

I’m the guy standing on the wall by the dance floor waiting for your friend to leave you long enough for me to start anonymously grind on you.

I’m the guy who thinks that if he buys those girls drinks, they will go home and sleep with him, and who will get mad if they don’t.

I’m the guy who keeps feeding that girl drinks until she DOES go home with him, even though I’m aware of the fact that if she was sober, I’d have no chance.

I’m the guy who gets drunk at the classy party/wedding/bar mitzvah/funeral

I’m the guy who cock-blocks his own wingman while the wingman is talking to a really cute girl.

I’m the guy who deserts his wingman when he sees a really cute girl.

I’m the guy who will go/has gone after your little sister.

I’m the guy wearing one Lacoste shirt underneath another Lacoste shirt so I have more than one collar to pop.

I’m the guy who is the first to make racist jokes in mixed company.

I’m the guy who tells his female friend he’s in love with her, then spends the rest of the night trying to pick up random tail.

I’m the guy who sends drunk e-mails late at night that are in NO way appropriate.

I’m the guy who screams ‘WHOOOOO!’ at really inappropriate times.

See, I knew you knew me.

If you have a ‘That Guy’ statement, put it in the comments.

Dear Porocrom readers… After a year or so of not posting, I am again… Well… Posting. This time, though, it is not to bring you our pure comedic genius. The tidings now are bad, sadly. Porocrom, the blog you all know and love, has come to an impasse. It is with great sadness that I must announce to you the grim future of Porocrom, brought upon it by the sheer atrocities committed by Crommunist and me (mostly Crommunist though).

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It is not often I get to hang out with a particular friend of mine. She is a very cool person, with a great taste in music and with a lot of great ideas. Very rarely has she ever even hinted at letting me down. However, let’s call you Carlita… I hate you forever now.

For those of you who don’t live in the Waterloo region, you are mostly safe. However, for the rest of you, and I want to be 100% clear about this, The Starlight Lounge in Waterloo sucks so much, I’m surprised the town isn’t concave.

So I suppose you’ll be wanting the story. I was supposed to meet Carlita at 10:30 at the aforementioned Tower of Babylame. Knowing her to be in possession of functioning ovaries, I arranged myself so that I would arrive there at 11. I climbed the stairs, somewhat troubled by the pounding bass lines descending from the lounge above. I walked through the doors, and this is what I saw.

The Decor

The place was clearly decorated by an opium addict who lives and dies by the maxim “Everything cheap and 20 years old is automatically cool”. There were cheap pop-art posters advertising shows that have either already happened or are fictional by bands with names like “The Runnerups” and “Maggie’s Ovarian Cyst” and “I Left My Wallet At Home Can You Please Lend Me Some Money So I Can Buy A Razor And Kill Myself?”. The place was kept in almost complete darkness, which I can only assume was done to disguise what the rest of the place looked like. An orange disco ball and some multicolored pot lights provided only enough illumination for a person to recognize their cocaine balloon from their heroin baggie. Short red leather couches and sofas bordered the room, centred in a completely vacant dance floor. Small wonder when you consider…

The Music

I try to be open-minded about music, because it is a reflection of the creator’s world view and like food or visual art, it is in the eye of the beholder. That being said, house music licks my ball. The DJ spinning the records was almost comical if the whole scene hadn’t been so sad. Picture Marge Simpson, then turn her head upside down. This guy had a beard that would make the wisest kung-fu master in the most stereotypical Chinese movie jealous. He made the guys from ZZ Top look prepubescent. What was the most incredible is that he was really into the ‘music’, bobbing his head and making odd hand gestures. I’m not sure how anyone can listen to house music, since all of the songs are virutally identical. And yes, I realize that this is a claim commonly made about hip-hop, but really people… any idiot can listen to three hip-hop tracks and discern them. House music is completely beat-driven, and the composers have only figured out how to use one of the pre-set beats on their Casio™ synthesizers. I saw a screen running something, which is when I started watching

The Movie

I must admit, this was the first time I’ve ever seen a bar show a film in the background. I was almost impressed, until I actually saw what was playing. This guy gets hit with a pie, then he trashes the roadside pie stand, and his friends break some stuff. Then some girl wearing leather pulls out a molotov cocktail and blows up someone’s van. The guys walk around the corner, when these two 12 year-old black kids with automatic weapons start shooting at them. So they duck into a nearby bakery, go to some lockers, grab their own automatic weapons and take to the streets. A lot of shooting ensues, seemingly between a gang of hippies and a tough-as-nails chick gang (with a station wagon converted into a tank).

(I just want to interject that I am not making up or exaggerating anything in this recounting.)

It’s time for one of the female gang members to undergo her initiation by murdering the last member of the male gang. She has him cornered at the bottom of a stairwell, but can’t bring herself to pull the trigger. Luckily a chick with a metal eyepatch and a belly-topper is there to finish the job. Back at their hideout, the women’s gang celebrates their triumphant rise above male tyranny by… BAKING A CAKE. At this point I had to leave.

The only way the Starlight could have been any worse is if I had to pay money to get in. Oh wait, there is a $3 cover. Never mind, zero redeeming features. The phrase ‘powerfully lame’ kept flitting through my mind. To paraphrase a friend of mine, I imagine that the Starlight is what hell must be like, only with louder music. Some day lingustic scientists will invent a word capable of encapsulating how terrible that bar is. Until then, I advise you hide under your bed, read your dictionary, and don’t trust anyone with a metal eyepatch.