Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Rooting for the Blue Aliens

The human stared in disbelief at the arrow that had just pierced his torso. But his gaze wavers just a bit, enough for him to see the tall cat-like alien shoot another arrow into his chest. The human keeps standing defiantly for a few tense moments...face still set in a mask of disbelief. Then he finally falls to the ground. And I started cheering.

Strangely, I didn't feel guilty at all for rooting for the alien fighting against a fellow human. After all, the rest of the crowd in the cinema was cheering too. At the end of the movie, the humans were walloped and sent packing back to stinky old Earth (sucks for them) while the main character (a human) changes into a blue alien through a strange spiritual ritual thingy-ma-jig involving a deity called Eywa. But I don't want to mention too much about the plot of Avatar. I want you to watch it yourself...cause its so freaking awesome!

There's just something about Avatar, but I can't seem to put my finger on it. Is it the breath-taking graphics? Or the great plot? Or even the topless aliens? Perhaps it is a combination of all of those reasons, or maybe none of them at all. Whatever the case, there's just something about Avatar...

Not too long ago, my sis had a thing for Titanic, the 3 and a half hour movie with the winding plot and the love triangles and the hero it any wonder that sis fell for Korean dramas later? I tolerated her constant hogging of the TV and wished Jack would die more quickly as he once again says to Rose in a shivery voice: "Rose, I want you to grow old, and have lotsa children..." or something along those lines. My memory's a bit fuzzy on that, since my brain tends to forget incidents of utter boredom in order to focus on more important aspects of life. Like breathing. Meanwhile, my sis cries along with Rose, contributing to the booming business that is the tissue paper manufacturing industry.

Its a wonder that the director of Titanic was also the one to direct Avatar. The movies are just so different. They don't even seem to target the same audience. Titanic is, admittedly, a nice movie, and Titanic fans are an intimidating lot (have you seen my sis angry?). But I have to stand up for my favorite movie of all time. Because even though Avatar may not be as romantic or as tear-jerking as Titanic; and Avatar may not even be a true story, there's just something about Avatar...

The movie makes you see the flaws of us humans. It exposes our greed, our destructive love for wealth. It provides a glimpse into our future, where our world is dying and we have to go to a brand new planet just so we can repeat the destruction all over again. And the movie does all this in epic fashion. So yeah, I'm not ashamed because I root for the blue aliens.

Ah, but what do I do now, after watching such a great movie? Maybe I should watch another movie. I wonder where that Titanic CD is...

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Football 101: The Basics

Ah, I notice that my (only) two followers are girls...well, being the considerate, thoughtful, and oh so charming person that I am, I will explain the one thing that will forever confuse the minds of the fairer half of the human race.

The Ball

Humans have invented many wonders in his short history on Earth. We discovered fire, which earned us the respect of wild animals. We invented the wheel, which allowed us to travel faster, further, and for nuch longer. We invented guns, which made killing each other as simple as squeezing a trigger. We discovered fuel of all kinds, eventually providing sufficient power for our rockets to break free of Earth's gravity and land us on the Moon. But the greatest invention ever, without a sliver of doubt, is:

THE Football.

The first footballs consist of nothing more than an inflated pig bladder (seriously) but the modern ones usually are made of 32 panels of waterproofed leather or plastic, since Christiano Ronaldo and David Beckham resent having smears of pig urine on their boots, being the spoilt millionaire brats that they are...

Game Concept

The lives of football players revolve around the single objective of kicking a pig bladder-like ball into a queer cuboid-like shaped net which serves as something called the "goal". When a player manages to do this, everybody who has turned up will immediatly raise their hands in an almost instinctive move and shout GOAL!!!!!!!!! in the shrill voice football fans are famous for.

Of course, there are rules to the game, without which, the players would fall into disarray and kick balls other than the foot ball (feel my pain, brother?). As such, a certain official is given almost dictatorial control over everybody else on the field: The Referee.

The Referee

The referee is definitely the most important person on the field. Without him, the game would descend into mayhem, like a scene from parliament, minus the flying chairs. Yet, the ref is often the most hated person on the field. Every decision he makes is met with objection, derision, confusion, and confrontation mixed in with a generous dose of profanity. If guns were permitted into stadiums, refs would surely be the first to bite the dust, or in this case grass.

But the ref does have his powers. For example, a misbehaving player who, for instance, takes to breaking other players' legs are given the dreaded RED CARD by the ref. If you are unfamiliar with the concept, a red card is the most horrifying thing to show to a player on the field, more so than a middle finger, or worse, a picture of Madonna naked. A player shown the red card is in much pain...although the player of the broken legs will probably beg to differ...


When broken down, the various aspects of football may seem weird, downright crazy, even. But I still stand by my earlier statement that The Football is the greatest human invention ever, for the fact that such a simple object (the first being a pig bladder, remember) can inspire such passion in tumbling toddlers (a.k.a. my bro), pimply teenagers (a.k.a. me) and beer-bellied middle-aged men (not my father) alike.

This passion is most evident by the construction of stadiums worldwide for the purpose of allowing tens of thousands of people to watch 22 men kick a ball around a rectangular field so that they can shout GOAL!!!!!!!! when the ball ends up in one of the two cuboid-shaped nets at either end of the field, while the managers of both teams prowl the edge of the field, gesticulating wildly with the enthusiasm of a newly escaped mental patient while shouting themselves to the point of heart attack (seriously). If you happen to be viewing a stadium from above, you will notice that they are nothing but temples built in honour of the Gods, i mean players, of football.

Unfortunately, there is too much about football to fit into one blog entry. So before I destroy your eyesight any further, just one simple message to my readers: if you are a lady, take it easy on your football-loving brothers, boyfriend or husband; if you are a fellow football-loving gentlemen: ROCK ON!!!!!

P.S.: The sport referred to above is the soccer variation of football. There are other versions, including American football (a.k.a. rugby), which is another totally different type of s***