I keep a list of ideas specifically for these posts. Ideas about “deep” subjects the world needs to not only think about but also consider my opinions on said subjects.
Don’t worry . . . it’s late, I’m tired, and I just want to read something (probably one of my books) or watch a movie about bad guys getting shot.
I was thinking how — on the subject of getting shot in movies — the representation of a bullet impacting on a bad guy was fairly tame in the old B&W westerns and gangster movies. The guy — or gal — would basically clutch their stomach (people were always shot in the stomach back then) and then make an I-just-ate-some-broccoli face as they slowly slumped to the ground. Sometimes, they would actually say “you’ve shot me!” so as to reinforce the illusion. The big advancement came when — as color film came into its own — they also clutched and broke a packet of ketchup and let it ooze from between their fingers to signify bleeding. In those early days, they had a difficult time making the blood look real. It was either too liquidy or too thick. Plus, the color never looked quite right. It looked too much like ketchup or wine.
I don’t know for sure when it first happened, but I do remember the first time I noticed a change in the way bullets impacted bad guys . . . George Plimpton getting shot in the movie Rio Lobo. They’d rigged a harness and pulled him back into the wall when he took a rifle bullet. Basically, it was the equivalent of taking an open-field tackle.
These days people literally fly backward three or four feet and are lifted off the ground another foot or so. In movies, that is.
That’s a whole lot of energy, Bob. If one knows a bit about physics, one might wonder where all that energy is coming from. I mean, why isn’t the shooter also thrown back, his shooting hand and arm shattered by the reaction to the energy sufficient to fling 200 pounds of bad guy flying through the air?
A few recent movies dispensed with the whole flying thing and the shooting scenes are a bit more realistic . . . but — maybe — not as satisfying as watching the mean bad guy not only getting shot but also being launched as if they’d been hit by a wrecking ball.
And now, the photo:
Epcot . . . we used to go there often; every few years or so. It’s still one of our favorite places to pass some time. A bit inconvenient to go visit from here, but we’ll get there again, I’m sure. I know because we still have tickets to the place (tickets from when they sold them without an expiration date).
That’s the entrance to Mission Space in Future World. I tweaked it a bit.
Today’s cartoon is a favorite of mine. Specifically, because members of any one religion typically think members of other religion are praying to the wrong god(s).
It may seem like I often pick on cults . . . er . . . religions. Well, you know, they kind of ask for it. The sad part? They can’t take it.
Why sad? Let me explain . . . let’s say someone calls me stupid. It’s nothing new and not all that rare. But, you know what? I know the scope and limit of my intelligence. I don’t need anyone else to validate it nor do I need someone else agreeing with me. I’m what is known as confident and secure in what I am, who I am, and what I think. If someone wants to think of me as stupid and call me such or accuse me of dressing weird or having a funny haircut, well, gosh, go right ahead. No skin off my nose. You think I’m wrong about what I think? OK. I mean, it lowers my opinion of you, but I don’t need your approval to think like I do.
That, my friends, is exactly opposite most religious people. Incredibly, their belief doesn’t give them even the most basic confidence in themselves. Always, always, they seek validation from others. They’re even willing to kill you to get that validation. They need others to agree with them, to lend validity to the tales they tell each other and the silly rituals they follow. Boy, oh boy, do they get cross when you tell them “no thanks”. Persecution, they call it.
Let me tell you; no good has come from that attitude in the past and no good will come from it in the future. You can already see the makings of the next age of unenlightenment. Sad. Particularly when it’s combined and encouraged in politics, too.
I can almost hear some say “That’s not me, Bob! I’m not that kind of religious person.” Maybe . . . but I don’t hear anyone condemn the supposed “bad apples” . . . on the contrary; they’re often chosen as leaders.
Yesterday I showed what the remnants of a fresco on the walls of Pompei look like. Now, I’ll show you . . . What It Might Have Looked Like Before Vesuvius Did Its Thing.
And . . . that’s it
Some of these posts will likely be longer as the mood hits me, but most will be thus; short, uninteresting, bland, and relentless.
You can read about Project 313 HERE.
That’s it. This post has ended . . . except for the stuff below.
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. . . my FP ward . . . chieken shit.
Finally, if you interpret anything on this blog as me asking or wanting pity, sympathy, or complaining about my life, or asking for help and advice, know you’re likely missing my subtle mix of irony, sarcasm, and humor.