camwyn: (Megatron demands an explanation)
Dear brain:

I don't think we can really rewrite Hamlet as a weird Cybertronian propaganda drama with Starscream in the title role. Mostly because he would never ever ever allow the actual ending to happen, where everybody winds up dead and somebody who is not also Starscream rolls in to take over. Even if it does seem like the kind of thing he'd do, with a substitution of 'pretend to be incompetent and therefore not a threat' for 'pretend to be crazy'.

But if you've got a way to handle the Fortinbras part, I'm all auds.
camwyn: Me in a bomber jacket and jeans standing next to a green two-man North Andover Flight Academy helicopter. (cyberpuppy)
I have a meeting this morning about a server move project my office is undertaking, and this morning is one of those 'I'm awake, be happy you get that much' types for me. The green tea/yerba mate blend hasn't kicked in enough yet to make with the happy-making, so I'm just going to have to wake myself up with the following image that was discussed last night at some length in a phone call in RL:

Assuming that we get past the first movie scenario in a hypothetical smoosh-together of Ghostbusters and the Transformers ("Nobody steps on a church in my town!" "... particle stream weaponry"), there is one element of Ghostbusters 2 that I would absolutely love to retain for a second crossover, and given my feelings towards movie 2 that's saying a lot. Chuck Vigo the Carpathian out the window, skip over the lawsuit issues, let Dana stay a cellist, keep Tully's hands off Janine (Janine + Egon = OTP all the way), whatever, but we need the River of Slime.

Because you just know that a river of psychomagnetheric substance that animates metal objects into something very nearly self-willed and fueled almost entirely by hostility would totally wind up as a Decepticon performance enhancer.

And you know that Starscream would accidentally overdose on the stuff, rage himself into a thousand pieces in a frenzy of "OMP MEGATRON YOU SUCK I SHOULD TOTALLY RULE!!!!1!:!!!"...

... and that because of the slime, and because this is Ghostbusters, the shattered fragments would each and every one become a perfectly functional self-willed Starscream toy Transformer and the entire cloud of them would then all insist that 'we are Starscream, we should be leader' and start driving everyone around them out of their minds. Also probably allying with each other and betraying each other.

I'm pretty sure the appropriate collective noun for this entity grouping would be 'a chorus of Starscreams'.
camwyn: (just not right)
[15:55] camwyn cwru: I think I've been licking Chinese toys again.
[15:58] xienhua: What now?
[15:59] camwyn cwru: I lay down for a nap about twenty minutes ago. Never got there. Was getting very very close but right at the end of it, two words flickered through my head and that was the end of that.
[15:59] xienhua: And the brain damaging ones or the unconciousness-causing ones?
[15:59] camwyn cwru: "Disney's Dune." And OH GOD it came with images of the animated musical numbers.
[15:59] xienhua: ....
[15:59] xienhua: *applause*
[16:00] camwyn cwru: Mrfghl.
[16:02] xienhua: Heh
[16:03] camwyn cwru: "It's got built-in slaughtered parents!" I remember thinking. "Or at least one, and you can usually get away with one living parent in a Disney movie!"
[16:03] xienhua: Hee
[16:06] camwyn cwru: Other people get gibbering eldritch blasphemous disintegrations int he fabric of reality when they have their SAN losses. Or they have the uncontrollable urge to go out and dismember the filthy and impure.
[16:06] camwyn cwru: I get capering dancing singing Fremen.
[16:06] camwyn cwru: There are kicklines.
camwyn: (Road)
When the influenza of 1919 rolled over the county of Essex in the commonwealth of Massachusetts, it left unnumbered dead in its wake. That was no surprise; death traveled in the Spanish Lady's train as surely as night followed day. Indeed, it was a leveller the likes of which no-one had ever seen before, outdoing even the Great War in its equity of destruction. For a thing had come to pass during the time of the War, a thing which no-one gave much thought to before, and could not be bothered to pursue after. Of all the counties in the Commonwealth, Essex was the least touched by the Gold Star- and that was because, if one made the effort to search, of the fact that of all the counties in the Commonwealth, Essex sent forth the fewest sons to the War.

Not that the young men of that part of the state were lacking in patriotism. Far from it! No, many a lad went off to volunteer, some of them in the armies of other countries in the days before America would give them the chance. Their young men were as willing to go of their own accord as any other. But that was the thing, you see. They went of their own choosing. The hand of the draft board fell lightly indeed upon the county, young men's numbers scarcely ever being called; and in some towns that hand was not felt at all. Kingsport was one such. Dunwich, another. Innsmouth's queer clannish folk never so much as heard a recruiter's voice, and that was just the way they liked it. And as for Arkham town, well, they'd given volunteers, hadn't they? If the government didn't call on them to send more than they wished to give, they weren't about to object. Keep the lads at the university or by their parents' sides, that was just the way it ought to be.

No one noticed, or if they did, they kept it to themselves. About the only man who might have said something was a young soldier from New York, a clerk by profession, born in the back woods of the Catskill Mountains. He'd spent long hours compiling and reconciling the records of the War Department, doing the duty of a bookish man so that stronger sorts might be free to fight. He saw a great deal, and even speculated upon what it might signify, before he was called. That was the end of any chance that he might speak. Not that he died- far from it- but the roar of the guns cracked young Private Martense's mind beyond all repair. He speaks not at all in his quiet cell in the asylum, save when the thunder of summer storms rolls overhead; and when that happens, he screams.

[ETA: The tag refers to topics raised in the comments.]
camwyn: (if you hadn't stopped me)
"What d'ye see?" cried Ahab, flattening his face to the sky.

"Nothing, nothing, Sir!" was the sound hailing down in reply.

"T'gallant sails! - stunsails! alow and aloft, on both sides!"

In a few moments they were hoisting him to the main royal-mast head; and then, while but two-thirds of the way aloft, he raised a gull-like cry in the air. "There she blows! - there she blows! A hump like a snow-hill!"

Fired by the cry which seemed simultaneously taken up by the three look-outs, the men on deck rushed to the rigging to behold the famous whale they had so long sought. But there were no further words, no cries of notice nor claims of credit. For the waters that roiled and parted on either side of the high sparkling hump that rose some mile or so ahead, silently lifting into the air, almost fled from that hump as if it were some thing never meant to touch upon matter of this world. Had it been the White Whale we must surely have seen his silent spout jetting into the air, or his form dipping below and between the waves - but we did not. That hump, that whiteness unnatural, continued to surface as we watched, struck by an awe and a horror we none of us dared name.

And thus, through the serene tranquilities of the tropical sea, among waves whose hand-clappings were suspended by exceeding terror, the great thing rose on. Some mercy withheld from sight the full terrors of that submerged trunk, the wrenched hideousness of that form - but ah, God, that vast shadowed bulk must surely have been beneath us even at so great a distance! That self-same thought came to every man in that moment, and we were frozen in place with horror-chilled blood save one man.

"Turn back, Captain!" cried Queequeg. I tore my eyes from that unspeakable Cyclopean mass to stare his way. His complexion had gone quite near as livid as that dreadful hump ahead of us, and the tattoos writhed upon his skin as if they were living things themselves. That terror which gripped us all must surely have granted him fluency, just as fear of losing her child may grant a mother strength in her direst moments, for he shrieked, "For the love of all goodness, turn back now!"

Ahead of us, the water around that swelling hump began to writhe with tentacles- and then, oh, great and merciful God, then arose that awful eye...


-- Howard Phillips Melville, The Pequod Horror, ch. 133, The Flight - First Day
camwyn: (Real Life (stupid))
*hears noise in corner*

*shines flashlight into corner*

Oh, look, a brain. I think it's mine.

*gets baseball bat*

*pulls up a stool, parks butt on same*

*waits, watching brain grimly*

*brain watches back*

Listen, buddy, you may be three pounds of soggy meat and fat inside my skull, but one more friggin' mulebunny and I'm going to hurt you but good.

*brain just watches back*

Don't even CONSIDER pushing that scene at me again. I don't care if interrupting some kind of 'John Constantine summons and loses control of a horror' scene gives you an excuse to make Egon speak Hebrew! I have a baseball bat, you know!

argh...
camwyn: (The boys)
Chapter 1: Something Strange In The Neighbourhood
Chapter 2: Ghostbusters- Whaddya Want?
Chapter 3: Seven-Forty-Seven Comin' Out Of The Sky
Chapter 4: Can I Buy Your Magic Bus
Chapter 5: Blinded Me With Science

And now, because I have made you wait too damn long, I am going to give you the first half of Chapter 6.

Who Ya Gonna Owl?, chapter 6a: Englishman In New York- No, Wait... )
To be continued...

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camwyn: Me in a bomber jacket and jeans standing next to a green two-man North Andover Flight Academy helicopter. (Default)
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