the Nabori filez

So there was this one dildo of a scriptwriting teacher I never got along with when I was in school who would always talk about his opus, a script about police k9 units. He tried to get me kicked out of school one time cause I wrote an ad making fun of him, so I decided to fuck with him a bit and pose as a japanese film producer and contact him by email wanting to make his movie...here's the last email...it was chidish as hell, but there's some funny parts. Whatever... I'm a small, petty man.

(I took his name out in case any of you know him)


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To: XXX
From: Takashi Nabori

Mr. X, I understand that you are in Banff to 'pitch' over your Dog Squad film to many people. This is very unfortunable. I simply cannot allow myself or my associates to deal with persons who are as unreliable and rusty as this makes you. It appears much as you are trying to get the big best deal for the big most salary. This makes me disappointed and sorry that my time was being taken waste. Please do not call me Takashi, only Mr. Nabori. This is not how business should conduct. It is very dishonest, like giving face to many people. When you call me by my first name, I should know that you were like this. You failed many times to inform rave tickets about Yuriko for her. This has a very trying exchange been for me. Please do not call me Takashi. Sneaky people are not to deal with. You are very sneaky. You called Jesse's house, my nephew, posing to be a police. This is unheard of. His mother trace the call and told me who. Very unprofessional, for Calgary, for Tokyo, and for Banff, very. It rains very much here. This is unpleasantly over as a business discussion. Please apologize. I regret that is only June. I cannot work with persons who conduct this. Still, I wish the nicest wish for you and Dog Squad in July, August and the future. I have delete the available script. Ok. No longer call me by my first name. I regret your time and intentions. Good week, Mr. X,

Takashi Nabori
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(Reply)

To: Takashi Nabori
From: X
Mr. Nabori,

For someone who is not registered at the Banff TV Festival you have a lot of gall calling me sneaky. I have been straight-forward with you from the
beginning. I even sent you, a totally unknown person, our script. I asked
you to call me when you arrived so that we could arrange a meeting. You
never telephoned to inform us of where you were staying in Banff or what time you would arrive in Calgary. Very unprofessional to leave us waiting without any word. Your major concern is to have your girl-friend go to a rave. My concern is to make a movie or TV show, not get your girl-friend to a rave. I did not call Jesse's mother and posse as a police officer. Darren, my partner on this project, is an officer with the Calgary Police Service. He called to check whether your information was true or not. When he called, the people who answered the telephone denied knowing Jesse or the people you claim were supposed to live at the address you gave us. You are the one who's being sneaky and un-professional Mr. Nabori. We conduct due diligence on all potential business partners to make sure they are legitimate. Even when your information turned out to be false, I continued to accept your emails and in good faith sent you the script. Darren and I can pitch this project to whoever we want. We never had a formal agreement with you. You never optioned the script. We had never met to discuss any terms or even close any type of deal for the Dog Squad script. To sound indignant at our attempts to pitch DSQ at Banff is totally un-warranted and un-professional.

Please, do not forget that you were the one to approach use about the
script. You did not provide answers to many questions that I asked you.

I will not apologize for something that I did not do.

Enjoy your stay in Banff. It's going to rain all week.


XXX
Producer
XXXX Productions
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Anyway..here'a song I like playing:
Koxo - Step by Step

remember these fucking things?


God knows how many fruitless hours I spent trying to draw the picture that came on the box. It was that house. That perfect fucking house. How was I to know, as a child, that that picture was put on the box with Corel Draw v.1 or equivalent? I hated that house, with it's perfectly sloped, 45 degree angle roof. I couldn't draw a diagonal line on that thing to save my miserable 7 year old life. Try googling etch-a-sketch, and see what kinds of things people are drawing with these torture boxes: The Colluseum? A zebra? Cal Ripken Jr? These are not toys for children. What kind of 7 year old has that kind of patience or motor control? Remember that Tom Hanks movie, BIG? This one was definitely designed by garbage-dick old dudes who have no idea what kids want, 'cause their own kids fuckin' hate them. Better than Lite-Brite though.

Remember those shitty pieces of shit? That was a real stroke of genius. A box, with a light (or even a 'lite', which is like a 'light, but a little more magic, and waaaay more fun), and a black piece of paper on the front that you could poke little coloured pegs into and make a fuckin' picture. When the picture is done, you turn off all the lights in your house*, like a fuckin' magic show, plug this fuckin' disgraceful piece of shit in, and feel what Monet felt every time he finished a painting. These things almost made me glad I never got Christmas. Then there were Pogs, which even as a kid, I thought were sinister as hell because they were pretty much a child's gateway to an adult vice. Maybe I have coloured memories though, 'cause i never got my hands on any good ones.

I dunno. There were still a lot of good toys when we were kids. Like this one:


The Super Soaker 50, ever heard of it? You might remember it as 'the best fuckin' watergun ever'. What set it apart from other pump type waterguns was that there was no release valve to let out pressure after hitting it's threshold. Remember how you could shoot that green bottle way over a streetlight? You could pump that shit till the bottle warped, no release. It'd shoot so hard, that if you were having waterfights with girls (or me), they'd quit. That thing could blast the freckles off the fat kid from the Sandlot. Someone even went as far as to pay tribute to it in t-shirt form, as modeled here by my friend known to many as Handsome Pete:

Also those little wrestling rings things, with the two spinning tops that would fight were awesome, because...they just were. If I could track one of those down today, I'd probably spend a long-weekend with it.

Nintendo 1 was the best video game system ever (2 posts in a row about Nintendo?). Up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, select, start. 30 lives. Contra. Also worked on Ninja Turtles.

I think most toy designers nowdays have come around, probably cause of that movie (Big). Kids like toys that make noises, or a mess, or involve bashing. Kids love bashing. I knew this girl who had a job at a recycling place or some shit, where she'd put on goggles and bash the shit out of a bunch of glass witha metal rod, I was so jealous of her. I still kind of am. Come to think of it though, I didn't really have too many toys as a kid. I mostly had books. A lot of books. I don't know what, in particular, my parents were trying to accomplish by that, but I don't think it worked. When I wake up tomorrow, I'm going to go bash some shit.

I love this song (every time I hear this, I crave a meatball sub from Peppino's, even if I'm in the middle of eating one):


Silver Pozzoli- - Around My Dream

Swingers

So the end of October will represent 2 years of me djing. I've seen some funny shit it that time, that I'll update you with as time allows. One of the stranger ones was being asked to DJ sex-party night at Calgary Adult Playground, a swingers club in the industrial area. I considered it because whenever I go to Nelson B.C. to DJ, it stikes me as odd that all the girls are in swinger-type relationships, and they're ALL smoking hot. Why would it be different here in Calgary, right? Perfect opportuity came olong to scope this joint: A Friday-night customer appreciation type affair where all members are clothed and behaving (Saturdays were the REAL party-time). So I go with a friend (as if I'm going alone...) and to my dismay, there are NO 6ft tall smokeshows, NO fake tatas, NO bukake babes...nothing. Instead, a bunch of old ladies and miserable looking dudes who like looked like your friends' parents. That's when I made up mind not to do it despite the fact that the money was decent. Who wants to look at a bunch of blotchy dad-dick getting thrown around between a bunch of droopy mom-tits? Not me...not more than once, at least. Besides, I don't think they'd would have taken me after I tried to look at their top-secret rolodex of member's names anyway. It's just as well 'cause I'll never understand swingers. I don't see what the thrill is in watching your wife get drilled, and then standing there jerking off, being all, "Yeah! Get her! Fuck her! Spit in her hair!!". I suppose, one Saturday, curiosity will get the best of me, and I'll go see what all the fuss is about. I'll try to keep an open mind, but to be honest, I'll probably spend most of the night stressing about how to get that mysterious tofu-lookin' stain outta my goddamn suede socks. I'm totally a 90's kind of guy, but there's nothing that appeals to me about having to tip-toe around some anonymous local newsanchor and his glued-on mustache disguise, while he's penetrating Sig Gutsche's belly button, and getting peed on by someone who looks suspiciously like Jann Arden. In fact, was that Jann Arden? It could have been, but a gentleman doesn't piss and tell. I guess what I'm trying to say is, they walk among us and anyone who looks like one of your friends parents (and isn't) is most likely a swinger. Just so you know.



This is what I would have played at the swinger parties:


Cyber People - Void Vision

Jesse, Ricky, call me...

Tell your friends dickheads, the internet's value just went down by half. I'll spare you the customary "Here I am, world. I finally broke down and started a blog"-bullshit, because I've been wanting to do this for ages. Here's the thing that put me over:


I don't much care for hockey anymore, but I overheard people; Canucks fans no less (arguably some of the worst people on earth), complaining about how bad this new Vancouver jersey is. I couldn't disagree more. I love them. I'm going to get one. I'm going to wear one. Wanna know why? Because they look EXACTLY like some shit out of this game:



Who never played this 8bit banger? With these guys:




Of course you played it, unless you were like me and not allowed to play video games. Or a girl. At any rate, I found a way and seeing those jerseys brought back some serious memories. One in particular stands out. I remember one time when I was a kid I was over at Jesse Rocatov's place durning Xmas break with Ricky Spincaster and we were playing Blades of Steel. It was only a 2-player game, and there were 3 of us, meaning obviously one of us had to sit out. This game in particular, it was Ricky Spincaster who was a real antsy, edgy motherfucker, couldn't sit still. We were *supposed* to be keeping it down because Grandma Rocatov was upstairs resting and her health was pretty shitty. So the first period intermission rolls around and we go to the kitchen to get some raspberry ginger ale, and Ricky Spincaster has a fuckin' coniption fit when Jesse Rocatov didn't have any bendy straws, which was no good cause Grandma Rocatov was upstairs sleeping and I was scared to all shit of that old bitch. So we tell Ricky Spincaster about "shut the fuck up and drink your raspberry ginger ale.", but he won't stop bitching about the straw situation until about halfway through the 2nd period. We didn't notice that he'd kinda disappeared for a bit and when he came back, the complaining had stopped. We were stoked...for all of about 2 minutes, until Grandma Rocatov came FLYING down the fuckin' stairs screaming like an angry, senile banshee...because Ricky Spincaster has used one of her (used?!?) catheter tubes as a bendy straw.

Here's some pictures from last week's Hai Karate while you process that deranged fuckin' shit.










Dj Mel from Texas fuckin destroyed the place. Pics by Scott Lazerfangz. Go look at his page.

I guess I'll leave you with a song to cleanse your palate. I realize that if I were half as smart as any of you, I'd have left some hockey-related song, Gary Glitter or something, but I'm not, so here's one I wish they played at hockey games:


Surface - Falling in Love