Wanna see something stupid? (Once more…)

Let me show you the stupidest fight scene ever, from a "movie" called Undefeatable (which, surprisingly enough, was not directed by Alan Smithee):



It's even more ridiculous than Jean-Claude Van Damme. vs. woman in penguin suit fight in Sudden Death…

Final Destination 2

Final Destination 2 features one of the best crash scenes in all the action movies I've seen so far:



And for those of you who are afraid to go to the dentist's:

Never eat ants

Here's a funny episode of Happy Tree Friends that I've just watched:



ROFL!

Here's another (obviously) gory one:

Death Notice (3): Charlton Heston

I remember Charlton Heston especially for his roles in Planet of the Apes, but also in Ben Hur (thanks to which he won an Academy Award). Please watch this scene of anthology, namely that of the chariot race:



Michael Moore made a well-known interview of the star about his stances on guns and his position in the NRA:



A fan's song:



He said this once:



--> Now, we can take his gun and destroy it at last! (*Evil laughter*)

Death Notice (2)

This title surely can't precede something good…

Several months ago, I told you about my grandfather's parrot, Coco, an African grey parrot. Well today my mother sent me an e-mail whose title was simply "Coco". My first reaction was that famous catchphrase from the Star Wars saga: "I have a bad feeling about this…". I was right: Coco died in the night. He (in fact: she, but we always used to refer to this parrot by "he") was 44. My uncle says he was born on 26 March 1963. (Hey, isn't that Shakespeare's birth date?)

He told me that he received this parrot from an old lady in 1982. Back then, my uncle was running a book shop in Huy, and the parrot would always greet the customers and utter many usual sounds, such as the bell or the telephone, which he perfectly imitated, being a parrot.

When I was a kid, we would often go to my uncle's shop to say hello and play a little bit with Coco, giving him Tiercé-notes to eat (!). He was really fond of that, but also of sunflower seeds. When my uncle closed his shop in 1998, Coco went to my grandparents', where he stayed until now. Whenever I went there, I would whistle and talk to him, and most of the time he replied, especially when you presented him with a chips or a piece of meat (even chicken, which is thus close to cannibalism), as shown in the picture below:


The whole essence of that creature was caught in this snapshot…

Here are some of the many pictures I took of Coco:

Just eating roast beef, as usual.

Just eating crisps, as usual.

Hasn't he something human in his look?

This is the way he used to go down to his woodlike area.

Don't believe he was trying to eat my finger!

Farewell, Coco!

Tonight, I came back from Namur with my uncle, and we stepped by at my grandparents' to fetch Coco's body, for we wanted to bury it in Aubel, at the back of the garden. (With a single light coming from the house, and Coco being wrapped in a black plastic bag, it was as if we were members of the Mafia secretly getting rid of a body in a cold night…) So, that's what we did: my father dug a hole and we put our old friend in it, while remembering some good moments we spend with him. After my father filled the hole, the emotion seized me and some tears fell on my cheeks — I hadn't cried for ages! I've already suffered the death of several pets, among which Poupoune, my rabbit, but I wasn't that sad. I had always known Coco: he was nearly as old as my mother!

Coco is dead, but life goes on.

All that story reminds me of that sketch about a dead parrot by the Monty Python:

It's bleedin' demised! It's not pining it's passed on! This parrot is no more! It has ceased to be! It's expired and gone to meet its maker! This is a late parrot! It's a stiff! Bereft of life it rests in peace, if you hadn't nailed it to the perch it would be pushing up the daisies, its run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible! This... is an ex... parrot!

A last thing before I leave you till tomorrow: Coco died exactly 44 years after JFK. Unbelievable! At least, I won't forget the date.

Death Notice (1)

The famous French choregrapher Maurice Béjart, most know for his revolutionary ballets, died today at the age of 80. I knew him especially through the Snuls, that bunch of comedians from Brussels who were quite prominent in Wallonia at the beginning of the nineties, relying on surrealistic humour. They often made fun of his ballets and their pseudo-news bulletins always mentioned some kind of a "nouveau ballet Béjart". But unfortunately, I didn't find anything about that on YouTube, but I found an fragment of a show:



The idea was to go in a café and ask somebody to say something, and the more silly they were, the more chance they had to be on the show. That's what happened with this bloke (a real snul, a Brussels word meaning something like "idiot") who thought he could sing "Singin' in the Rain".

Let's come back to Béjart. Several Belgian newspapers are known for displaying headings that include a rather audacious pun. Here's what my mother sent me today:

"Maurice Béjart est parti faire danser les étoiles" (La Libre Belgique)
"Le dernier pas de danse de Béjart" (Le Soir)

The latest news bulletins say that his ashes will be spread in the sea in Ostend. Some also claim that he wanted to become a Belgian citizen short before he died, but this won't be possible, I guess.

As long as we're in a French-speaking mood, let me show you what my old friend Cyril tells me about the French language in a recent e-mail:

On dit souvent que jouer sur les mots est facile, mais est-il si facile de jouer avec les mots ? Un mot peut avoir plusieurs significations évidentes et souvent connues de tous. Une association de mots peut avoir beaucoup plus d'impact, car elle fait réfléchir. Ne dit-on pas que la réflexion est une des magies que la nature a confié à l'homme ? Si c'est le cas, les mots n'en sont-ils pas les incantations et la langue la baguette ?

I think he should have become a poet!

News From The Grave

On the news, I heard today that two celebrities had left us.

1) Ingmar Bergman, the Swedish director. What I knew about him was: "His films are long, boring, with characters that whisper all the time; you always hear the wind and/or a clock". Nothing that could appeal a 19-year-old boy from Belgium who's addicted to Star Wars, parodies and comedies. I also knew he had directed a film called The Seventh Seal. Why? Simply because a bit of it is shown in the terrific Last Action Hero, by John McTiernan, with Arnold "Not-Yet-Gouvernator" Schwarzenegger.

In this movie, a magic golden ticket allows a boy to enter another world. This boy, Danny, accidentally enters the world of his hero, Jack Slater (played by Arnie). Later in the movie, after several events, be magic tickets gets lost and lands in front of some obscure cinema (or "theater", for the action takes place in the USA) where they show The Seventh Seal by Bergman. Suddenly, Death (Sir Ian McKellen — even though he wasn't playing in Bergman's film) tears the screen with help of his scathe [yeah! I managed to use that rare word!] and walks in the streets of New York… Death slightly touches a police officer busy eating a donut, and this guy starts coughing and coughing — and probably dies of it, but we don't see it. (What a shame!)


2) Michel Serrault, the French actor. I admit I didn't watched a lot of films in which he has a role, but I definitely loved his part in Le Viager, by Pierre Tchernia. This is a movie that basically shows the evolution of the French society between 1930 and 1970. (And that is the reason why it is shown in several schools. True, true.) What can I say about this film from 1972? Unfortunately, there's no extract coming from it to be found on YouTube.

The story starts in 1930 with this poor Monsieur Martinet (Michel Serrault), who's gonna turn 60 and feels sick. That's why he goes to the doctor's: Docteur Léon Galipeau (Michel Galabru). This doc tells Martinet he's old and his heart is just tired of a long life. Galipeau advises him to retire, for he only has two years left before dying, he thinks. Martinet says he owns a house in Saint-Tropez, "a village with many fishers".

At that moment, Galipeau's face turns into a big smile: he sees the opportunity of a great bargain. He asks Martinet to sell his house to him and his family by using the viager (i.e. reverse [or lifetime] mortgage) system. It consists of paying each year a amount of money to the owner, until he/she dies. This amount of money is linked (or "indexed") to the price of some kind of goods in the stock exchange; in this case: aluminum. Galipeau thinks he's not gonna pay a lot: "Martinet va mourir bientôt", he thinks.

Galipeau and his family (his wife, his brother, his sister-in-law and their new-born son: Noël — because he's born on Christmas), visit Martinet's house in Saint-Tropez. It's an idyllic place, with a big garden and a beautiful view on the sea.

Years pass by, but Martinet won't die! He even gets better and better, taking care of his house, his dog (Kiki) and his garden. He also has a lot of social contacts and even helps the postman in his 22-km ride!

Years pass by, and the Second World War approaches, and eventually bursts out. Galipeau used to say: "C'est qui ça, Hitler ? Un petit peintre en bâtiment… (…) Le fascisme, c'est un feu de paille ! (…) Faites-moi confiance. Vous allez voir : dans deux ans, on va rire !" (Next image: the bombings on Paris!!!)

What's funny in this movie is that Galipeau always keeps predicting things that won't happen. Whenever he says "Faites-moi confiance", the audience is sure he's wrong.

Years pass by, and the War is over. Meanwhile the Galipeaus had unsuccessfully tried to make of Martinet a traitor, but he eventually gets given a medal!

Years pass by, and the aluminum gets more and more expensive…

Years pass by, and the Galipeaus lose the grandpa, then the sister-in-law, then the brother (who, meanwhile, also tried to kill Martinet), then the doc's wife.

Years pass by, and Noël gets older. He's grown into a criminal and is now convicted with theft. Fortunately, Martinet, in a tearsome testimony, manages to get Noël freed. Galipeau dies of heart attack.

Noël is now 40 and is fed up with this viager who won't die. His whole family is dead, while Martinet is still alive. He plans to kill him on the day of Martinet's 100th birthday, covered by the noise of fireworks. Noël drives the car in which all the rockets and other fireworks item lie, but suddenly the car cigar lighter pops out of its plug and the car turns into a fireball… When the last fireworks device explodes (in fact: one of the car's lights) in the skies, Martinet says to his 8th dog: "Et voilà Kiki : c'était le bouquet !"

That was the story.

In my opinion, this film is the 3rd best French movie of all time. The second best is Gérard Oury's La Grande Vadrouille with Louis De Funès and Bourvil; the best one ever is definitely Les Trois Frères, by and with Les Inconnus. But that's another story.

Boris Yeltsine Passed Away

Today, I heard at 6 pm, when I got back to my student's room, that former Russian President Boris Yeltsin had died from a(nother) heart attack. Tonight, as I was watching several videos in Dutch, I decided to translate a report on his death, which says:

"De voormalige Russische president Boris Jeltsin is maandag overleden. Dat maakt de persbureau Interfacts bekend. Jeltsin werd alom geprezen als de man die Rusland de weg naar de democratie heeft gewezen toen de Soviëte Unie begin jaren 90 instootte, en de Koude Oorlog tussen de VS en de Soviëte Unie tot een einde kwam. In de loop van de jaren 90 leeg Jeltsin te kampen met een lichaam die niet mee wilde, en leeg hij zijn heil (?) steeds meer te zoeken in de fles. Hij kreeg verscheidene hartaanvallen, maar bleef aan tot de laatste dag van het vorige millenium. Jeltsin is 76 jaar geworden."

Note that the Dutch version of Yeltsine is Jeltsin, and in French, we write Yelstine.