Weapons used by Matrix in Commando:
- Valmet M78 assault rifle
- Desert Eagle handgun
- M202A1 FLASH multi-shot rocket launcher
- Remington 870 12-gauge shotgun
- M16A1 battle rifle
- Combat knife
- M60E3 machine gun
- M67 fragmentation grenade
- IMI Uzi submachine gun
- Heckler & Koch G3 assault rifle
- M18A1 Claymore Antipersonnel Mine
- Mêlée weapons (a Pitchfork, Machete, Axe)
- Improvised weapons (a Circular saw blade, steel pipe, metal furnace door)
In 1959, Walt Disney Productions, under the leadership of Walt Disney, began looking for land for a second resort to supplement Disneyland, which had opened in Anaheim, California in 1955. Walt Disney disliked the businesses that had sprung up around Disneyland and wanted control of a much larger area of land for the new project.
To avoid a burst of land speculation, Disney used various dummy corporations and cooperative individuals to acquire 27,400 acres (110 km², 43 mi²) of land. The first five-acre (20,000 m², 217400 ft²) lot was bought on October 23, 1964, by the Ayefour Corporation (a pun on Interstate 4). Others were also used with a second or secret meanings which add to the lore of the Florida Project, including M.T. Lott Real Estate Investments (pronounced empty lot).
After most of the land had been bought, the truth of the property's owner was leaked to the Orlando Sentinel on October 20, 1965. A press conference soon was organized for November 15. At the presentation, Walt Disney explained the plans for the site.
Kevin Michael "GG" Allin was a punk rock singer-songwriter and musician who performed and recorded with many groups during his career.
Allin is best remembered for his notorious live performances that typically featured wildly transgressive acts such as Allin defecating and urinating onstage, rolling in feces and often consuming excrement, committing self-injury, performing naked, taunting people to perform fellatio on him, and committing violent actions toward the audience—often doing many of these things more or less simultaneously. Although more notorious for his stage antics than for his wide body of music, he recorded prolifically, not only in the punk rock genre, but also in spoken word, country and Rolling Stones-influenced rock. Though he has a small, devoted cult following, Allin's music, often poorly recorded, has received mostly negative reviews from critics.
One of my all time favourite songs. I love the spoken lines (only in the long version):
1756 Salzburg janauy 27th wolfgang amadeus was born
1761 at the age of 5 amadeus began composing
1773 he writes his first piano concetto
1782 wolfgang amadeus Mozart marry's Constanze Weber
1784 wolfgang amadeus Mozart becomes a free mason
1791 Mozart composes the magic flute on december 5 the same year Mozart dies
1985 Austrian rock singer Falco records...ROCK ME AMADEUS!
I've Never Met a Nice South African is a satirical song originating in a sketch on the British television series Spitting Image. It was written by John Lloyd and Peter Brewis and was sung by Andy Roberts. In 1986 it was commercially released as the B-side of the chart-topping The Chicken Song. When the song was recorded, South Africa was considered a pariah state because of the white supremacist regime that was in power.
It was a hot Saturday evening in the summer of 1960 and Fred had a date with Peggy Sue. He arrived at her house and rang the bell. 'Oh, come on in!' Peggy Sue's mother said as she welcomed Fred in. 'Have a seat in the living room. Would you like something to drink? Lemonade? Iced tea?' 'Iced tea, please,' Fred said.
Mom brought the iced tea. 'So, what are you and Peggy planning to do tonight?' she asked. 'Oh, probably catch a movie, and then maybe grab a bite to eat at the malt shop, maybe take a walk on the beach...' 'Peggy likes to screw, you know,' Mum informed him. 'Really?' Fred replied; eyebrows rose. 'Oh yes,' the mother continued. 'When she goes out with her friends, that's all they do!' 'Is that so?' asked Fred, incredulous. 'Yes,' said the mother. 'As a matter of fact, she'd screw all night if we let her!' Well, thanks for the tip!' Fred said as he began thinking about alternate plans for the evening.
A moment later, Peggy Sue came down the stairs looking pretty as a picture wearing a pink blouse and a hoop skirt, and with her hair tied back in a bouncy ponytail. She greeted Fred. 'Have fun, kids!' the mother said as they left. Half an hour later, a completely disheveled and furious Peggy Sue burst into the house and slammed the front door behind her. 'The Twist, Mum!' she angrily yelled to her mother in the kitchen. 'The f***ing dance is called the Twist!'
This test only has one question, but it's a very important one. By giving an honest answer, you will discover where you stand morally.
Please scroll down slowly and give due consideration to each line.
THE SITUATION:
You are in England, York to be specific.
There is chaos all around you caused by a hurricane with severe flooding.
This is a flood of biblical proportions.
You are a photo-journalist working for a major newspaper, and you're caught in the middle of this epic disaster.
The situation is nearly hopeless.
You're trying to shoot career-making photos.
There are houses and people swirling around you, some disappearing into the water.
Nature is unleashing all of its destructive fury.
THE TEST:
Suddenly, you see a man in the water.
He is fighting for his life, trying not to be taken down with the debris.
You move closer... Somehow, the man looks familiar...
You suddenly realize who it is... It's Gordon Brown! You notice that the raging waters are about to take him under forever.
You have two options:
You can save the life of Gordon Brown or you can shoot a dramatic Pulitzer Prize winning photo, documenting the death of one of the country's most powerful men!
THE QUESTION:
Here's the question, and please give an honest answer...
Would you select high contrast color film, or would you go with the classic simplicity of black and white?
Click on the title for a link to a hilarious video from the BBC. I thought the Japanese were descended from brave Samurai warriors...not this lot, I'm afraid.
When we see a Space Shuttle sitting on its launch pad, there are two big booster rockets attached to the sides of the main fuel tank. These are solid rocket boosters, or SRBs. The SRBs are made by Thiokol at their factory in Utah. The engineers who designed the SRBs might have preferred to make them a bit fatter, but the SRBs had to be shipped by train from the factory to the launch site. The railroad line from the factory had to run through a tunnel in the mountains. The SRBs had to fit through that tunnel. The tunnel is slightly wider than the railroad track, and the railroad track is about as wide as two horses' backsides. So, the major design feature of what is arguably the world's most advanced transportation system was determined over two thousand years ago by the width of a horse's ass.
So the conference season is over. The politicians are heading back to Westminster and the people of Birmingham and Manchester can rejoice that the streets of their cities are no longer thronging with politicians. Good news for them. Even better news for us is that we will no longer have to listen or watch journalists asking 'people in the street' what they think.
I'll be blunt. The more I watch 'people in the street' being asked their opinion about anything, I realise that I don't give a flying fuck what your average Joe thinks and that the curse of modern communications is that everyone now has a voice. For a horrifying example of the rubbish that people spout, try any of the threads on the BBC's 'Have Your Say'. It's so awful and so overpopulated by (genuine) Nazis that it should be renamed 'Have Your Say Before You Take Your Tranquilizers'. Am I being hypocritical? I don't think so - sure, this blog is a voice for me and my fellow writers but the reader at least has the chance to stop reading, close the window and rejoice that they never have to read the Last Turkey again.
On the radio and TV it's different. Both the BBC and ITV news programmes last night had panels of mindless, moronic undecided voters telling us what they though of the leaders' speeches. And guess what? They came out with exactly the mindless, moronic, clueless, naive and hopelessly stupid sort of trash that you would expect. One woman on ITV said that the current financial mess was 'the Tories' fault' but not in a way that she thought that the free market approach championed by Keith Joseph and Enich Powell and adopted by Margaret Thatcher was responsible for the banks' behaviour (and for which it is perfectly possible to frame an argument) but in a way that suggested she read the Daily Mirror because the Guardian has too many long words in their articles.
No, enough, I say. Time for the media to realise both on the TV and on the internet that allowing vacuous marons with too much time on their hands to comment about things they simply don't understand is dangerous. If people want to comment they can set up their own blogs, TV stations and radio shows. Until then, please, they should leave it the professionals.
This morning I received a phone call from a gorgeous ex-girlfriend who called 'out-of-the-blue' to see if I was still around. We lost track of time, chatting about the wild, romantic times we used to enjoy together.
I couldn't believe it when she asked if I'd be interested in meeting up and rekindling a little of that 'old magic.' I was flabbergasted.
'I don't know if I could keep pace with you now,' I said, 'I'm a bit older and a bit greyer and balder than when you last saw me. Plus I don't really have the energy I used to have.'
She just giggled and said she was sure I would 'rise to the challenge' 'Yeah.' I said. 'Just so long as you don't mind a man with a waistline that's a few inches wider these days! Not to mention my lack of muscle tone...stuff sagging, my teeth not as white and jowls like a Great Dane!
She laughed and told me to stop being so silly.
She teased me, saying that tubby, grey-haired, older men were cute, and she was sure I would still be a great lover. Then she giggled, 'I've put on quite a bit of weight myself!'
So I told her to f*ck off