I don't really have anything to say, but I don't want DJ to cockpunch me.

rough draft of a snakes on a plane rap:

this beef goes straight back to genesis
forked tongues want some from my gun and my fist
snakes in my luggage, poisoning my shwuggets
i got 'em down for the count like a muppet, so fuck it
if a snake had a toe i'd stub it
straight hit 'em up with the one-two couplet, eruptin'
in public, denouncing reptiles is my style
cold-blooded like republicans, i punt 'em down the aisle
they lose their cool, spraying poison drool
i got the antidote so don't panic, i planned it
breakin' snakes' will with the ill ninja skill
asking punk boas if they've had their fill
i cut 'em right down to size
got goggles so they can't spit the venom in my eyes
they're surprised by my reptile handlin'
snuff 'em out like some scented candles and i get
ruthless, de-fanging, whip 'em round by the tail
only good snake's a dead snake, can't put 'em in jail
tie 'em in knots, what you got, viper? you look ripe
for a beatdown, i get hype for this serpentine smackdown
a crackdown on snakes fucking up our flights
i take the moral high ground, won't give up the fight

don't be a biter.

My friend just called and said he saw a feature on CNN about SOAP. Please find this on the web, someone!

My Geology professor mentioned SOAP this morning. This isn't just a movie anymore--it's a damn cultural phenomenon. Years from now, your kids will want to know what you were doing when Snakes On A Plane came out.

Snakes On A Plane: The Drink!

http://www.snakesonablog.com/2006/04/13/snakes-on-a-drink/

That's me. Drinking a snakes on a plane.

from the Philadelphia Weekly
Illustration by Hawk Krall
What's in a Name?



When titles are this utterly awesome, everything else is irrelevant.

by Steven Wells



"I want these motherfucking snakes off the motherfucking plane now!" says a bloke who sounds an awful lot like Samuel L. Jackson in a spoof trailer for a film that hasn't even been finished yet.
There are three sorts of people in the world. There are belligerent hipsters who'll sneer as they note that the subject of this week's OTR is the enormous kerfuffle surrounding Snakes on a Plane (featuring Samuel L. Jackson). They'll be all like, "Pshaw! That's so old. Barman! Another frothing pint of Ol' Frobisher's Punchable Goateed Twat, if you please."

Then there are the utterly culturally clueless who'll be going, "Wait. You mean there's actually going to be a movie actually called Snakes on a Plane? Are you on crack cocaine?"

And then there are unutterably cool types who have been following the Snakes on a Plane buzz for months and are still thrilled to the point of savagely and shamelessly pissing our black Gap knickers every time we hear that awesome freakin' title. Snakes. On. A. Plane. Could anything be added to or subtracted from that title that would in any way even microscopically improve its utter awesomeness?

Every now and then there emerges a cultural phenomenon with a name so cool that the actual quality of the product itself is entirely irrelevant. For instance the 1987 flick Surf Nazis Must Die has the best title of any movie ever, but the film itself sucks like a prolapsing dwarf star. Except, obviously, for the scene in which the shotgun-wielding African-American grandmother goes hunting Nazis on a surfboard ("Have some of Mama's home cookin', Adolf!"). But so what? You drop Surf Nazis Must Die into any argument with eggheaded art-movie elitists and you automatically win. It's like grabbing the Golden Snitch in Quidditch. Game the fuck over. It's that unfair and that simple.

Back when I was the unchallenged living god king of music journalists I got a tape from a band called Machine Gun Feedback-easily the best name of any band ever. But they sounded like Travis, so I had them assassinated. Now you can have the name for $10,000. The great thing being that it doesn't matter how shit you are-with that name you'll automatically be the greatest band ever in the history of rock. And if you move real quick, you might even get a song on the soundtrack for Snakes on a Plane. At which point human history will be so over that God might as well call armageddon on the serpent's scaly ass.

Or as the big fella himself might put it: "I want these motherfucking snakes off my motherfucking planet now!"


I believe the illustration is avatar size

from the Philadelphia Weekly :






What's in a Name?


Illustration by Hawk Krall


When titles are this utterly awesome, everything else is irrelevant.

by Steven Wells



"I want these motherfucking snakes off the motherfucking plane now!" says a bloke who sounds an awful lot like Samuel L. Jackson in a spoof trailer for a film that hasn't even been finished yet.
There are three sorts of people in the world. There are belligerent hipsters who'll sneer as they note that the subject of this week's OTR is the enormous kerfuffle surrounding Snakes on a Plane (featuring Samuel L. Jackson). They'll be all like, "Pshaw! That's so old. Barman! Another frothing pint of Ol' Frobisher's Punchable Goateed Twat, if you please."

Then there are the utterly culturally clueless who'll be going, "Wait. You mean there's actually going to be a movie actually called Snakes on a Plane? Are you on crack cocaine?"

And then there are unutterably cool types who have been following the Snakes on a Plane buzz for months and are still thrilled to the point of savagely and shamelessly pissing our black Gap knickers every time we hear that awesome freakin' title. Snakes. On. A. Plane. Could anything be added to or subtracted from that title that would in any way even microscopically improve its utter awesomeness?

Every now and then there emerges a cultural phenomenon with a name so cool that the actual quality of the product itself is entirely irrelevant. For instance the 1987 flick Surf Nazis Must Die has the best title of any movie ever, but the film itself sucks like a prolapsing dwarf star. Except, obviously, for the scene in which the shotgun-wielding African-American grandmother goes hunting Nazis on a surfboard ("Have some of Mama's home cookin', Adolf!"). But so what? You drop Surf Nazis Must Die into any argument with eggheaded art-movie elitists and you automatically win. It's like grabbing the Golden Snitch in Quidditch. Game the fuck over. It's that unfair and that simple.

Back when I was the unchallenged living god king of music journalists I got a tape from a band called Machine Gun Feedback-easily the best name of any band ever. But they sounded like Travis, so I had them assassinated. Now you can have the name for $10,000. The great thing being that it doesn't matter how shit you are-with that name you'll automatically be the greatest band ever in the history of rock. And if you move real quick, you might even get a song on the soundtrack for Snakes on a Plane. At which point human history will be so over that God might as well call armageddon on the serpent's scaly ass.

Or as the big fella himself might put it: "I want these motherfucking snakes off my motherfucking planet now!"
___________

I believe the illustration is avatar size

I'm insulted that you hadn't noticed my avatar, Jay.

That Philadelphia Weekly story is great! "Sucks like a prolapsing dwarf star!" Amazing!

I am very excited to see this movie, however I just don't get why this particular movie with a straight-forward title gets all the attention. Do you all have copies of Boa vs Python? You "know what you're gonna get" with that movie too but I don't remember internet clubs starting over that one. Maybe it's the fact that Sam Jackson is in it. I don't know. I've been watching cheesy horror/action movies for years and now all of a sudden there is all this attention.