Whimsy Animation
Posted by Ray @ 10:26 amA wonderfully whimsical, funny and slightly sad animated short film from some folks I haven’t heard of before. Clik clak is a gorgeously animated film about two robots who communicate with sounds made by Rube Goldberg machines.
Watch it here. (Link via metafilter, I think).
Paris Hilton is… Mother Teresa?
Posted by Ray @ 6:50 amAn Indian director is considering signing Paris Hilton to play Mother Teresa.
Two choice quotes:
“My agents in California have contacted Paris Hilton,” Rajeevnath told IANS.
The director said he was impressed when he read a report sometime ago in which the hotel heiress said she had refused to pose nude in Playboy magazine and decided then to shortlist her.
And:
“Although there are several actresses willing to play the role of Mother Teresa, the most widely respected and loved person, the history of the actress who is finally chosen for the role would have to be analysed thoroughly before she is chosen,” said Rajeevnath.
From which we learn that in Bollywood, sucking on a penis, having sex on film and releasing it on video yourself is less offensive than posing nude in Playboy.
A Pause for Self-reflection
Posted by Ray @ 9:54 amThere’s a guy I meet who has an intriguing side job.
It reads like a dream. It’s got flexible hours, he works from a computer. He meets many people, he can have interesting conversations with most of them, and they’re usually trying to please him, not the other way round. He gets paid a fair bit - $100 per day or more. There’s no uniform or office-wear he’s required to don. Drinking is not only allowed on the job, it’s free… free, as in free beer. A fridge-full.
But here’s what he does: he creates fake profiles on online dating sites, and talks to men who think they’re talking to various attractive women. He gets paid because the men have to pay the online dating site a fair bit of money to send a text message to his phone, and he takes a tiny cut of this money - tiny, but significant when they add up.
Apparently he’s quite good at this, because he gets a lot of men.
“Don’t you feel guilty, doing that?” I ask.
He shrugs. It’s easy money, and he’s only doing it until he leaves the country, a couple of weeks from now.
After a moment’s silence, another question. “Who’d do that? Pay a few bucks to speak to some girl they haven’t even met face-to-face?”
It’s not cheap for these men. They’re paying $3-4 per message to talk to these girls - money that’s obviously meant to ensure that the girls they’re talking to are indeed who they say they are. Money that could easily be spent on a cab and some drinks for some real eyeball-level verification of the person they’re talking to.
He tilts his head, gives one of those sad smiles. “There’s… just a lot of lonely blokes around.”
A beat. And then I say something that I would never have imagined myself saying just a year before.
“Shit, I’d so take that job.”
I think I’ve changed.