Gojira Electric Journal Masterpiece 2004

GOJIRA REGAINS HIS BLOG NAME

2004-10-31T06:37:00.000+09:00

hello little humans,

i just got the gojirakijou blogspot addy, so the party is moving there. i'm going to be serializing the first draft of my diary/memoir there, so you should regularly check it out. i would suggest you all update your bookmarks and blogrolls, except that none of you (except milo ) ever added the electric journal masterpiece 2004 to either.

goodbye, farewell and amen, gojirablogs.blogspot.com.

warmest regards,
gojira

Oooooh, so pretty

2004-09-25T17:35:00.000+09:00

Click for full size.

On Politics and Eating Lemons

2004-08-14T18:28:00.000+09:00

Another letter from the mailbox:

Subject: If you were an American... ...who would you vote for in the upcoming election? Also, who is the mother of your child and whatever happened to her? Tony

Dear Tony,

I'm proud to say I'm a nautralized citizen of the U.S. of A. -- however, I'm not a political animal, so I'll have to beg off answering your first question directly. That said, I do fancy myself a prognosticator of the highest caliber, and I predict that the election shall be close all the way up to Super Tuesday, despite the October Surprise double-whammy of Osama being found and caught as well as gasoline prices suddenly plunging right on schedule. On Election Day, John Kerry will earn the majority of the popular and electoral votes and George W. Bush will be sworn in as President next January.

I'm not sure which of my kids you're talking about here, but all but a handful of my 159 children were adopted and none of the biological ones went into Show Business and I would assume you don't give a fuck about them. Adoption is a practice I picked up from my old friend and mentor Joan Crawford -- although I obviously was a lot kinder to my kids than that old battleaxe! -- and I'm proud to have passed the practice of adopting slightly crispy Asian war orphans along to my dear friends Mia Farrow and Woody Allen.

Please, no snappy comments about Soon-yi; I certainly wasn't the one who passed that diddle-your-kiddies ethos on to the Woodman! I mean, sure, I've occasionally eaten some of my kids, but they were all gimpy and thus likely to be brutally taken out by predators sooner or later! You never want your kids to suffer, y'know? There's not a whole lot of assisted-living support for cripples on Monster Island or at the bottom of the ocean or in the deepest jungle, so eating is the way to go.

I've always thought you meat twigs are weird about your kids; some will fuck and beat theirs with wire hangers occasionally -- but if a pair of humans pound out a handicapped child, they'll totally puss out on eating him every time, even though it's just a matter of time until a cougar or a mountain lion separates Junior from the Special-Ed pack and devours him, wheelchair, colostomy bag and all.*

No one likes eating lemons -- the sour fruit, the malfunctioning car, the crippled offspring -- but sometimes you just can't make lemonade, and then swallowing the damn thing whole is your only remaining option.

Sincerely,
Gojira

* This line is dedicated to the memory of Milo "Wheelie" George, Jr., 1995-1999

I'll see you ... at the movies.

2004-08-14T16:48:00.000+09:00

I am not a monster; I am an actor.

A thespian. A playwright. A filmmaker.

I don't bag on my fellow monster-moviemakers, but I don't watch any of my peers' work in the genre. I think of myself as an actor first, an Asian-American second, and a 500-foot radioactive dinosaur third. As such, I'd like to take a few moments to highlight and praise the first five semi-recent pan-Pacifica indy films I can remember enjoying:

DOUBLE HAPPINESS: Very funny, very human, very Canadian romantic comedy about an aspiring actress's difficulties with her traditionalistic family and crappy acting skills. Sandra Oh does a beautiful job of acting like a bad actor, which ain't easy! Another Oh vehicle, LONG LIFE, HAPPINESS AND PROSPERITY, is also a charming cannuck production, but it doesn't have the snazzy Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet soundtrack DOUBLE HAPPINESS boasts.

COMBINATION PLATTER: Another funny romcom, about an illegal Chinese immigrant's struggle to get a green card before he's caught and sent home. It's funnier than that sounds, honest. The movie has an impressively large ensemble of characters, all of whom get a chance to be fleshed out from stereotype to two-dimensional character.

I think the main reason I like this one is because it's one of the few examples of a Yellow Man/White Woman on-screen courting that's handled even remotely respectfully. Actually, it's one of the two YM/WW linkings I know of, period -- and Long Duk Dong and his 'Merican Guhrrrlfriend is the other. This is a big part of my theory that the English-language film industry collectively fears non-white cock. It's not like they're leery of interracial couples; just compare these two to the bazillion honky man/Dragon Lady movies in existence.

EAT DRINK MAN WOMAN: Before he came to America to punish cineastes with shitty action movies, Ang Lee made entertaining, interesting romantic comedies. Really! He did!! This one's my favorite, since the torrent of loving shots of amazing food makes me drool like a retard every time. As I grow older, I find myself appreciating his earlier PUSHING HANDS more and more, despite its clumsy, flatfootedness. And THE WEDDING BANQUET is a delight -- especially if you pretend, as I do, that the honky-boyfriend character is actually a woman and thus gives us a full notch on the no-bullshit Asian Man/White Woman relationship-O-meter. Anyway, in addition to the food, EAT DRINK MAN WOMAN also does a beautiful job of showcasing the effortless timing of the late Sihung Lung, who never got his due propers.

THE SCENT OF GREEN PAPAYA: All of these movies are pretty laid-back in their telling, but this one is absolutely placid. It's one of those movies where nothing happens, but you so want to be in that moments with the characters that you don't want anything to happen. [SPOILERS] When the film jumps ahead 10 years near the end,[/SPOILERS] I nearly destroyed the theatre, I was so pissed that I wasn't going to spend more time with little Mui. And then the ending is kinda creepy, too. It's like what my friend Orson Welles once said: "If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story," so stop watching this one the moment you see "10 Years Later ..." You can thank me later.

MUCH ADOBO ABOUT NOTHING: Normally, I hate cute-titled movies -- and by this point, I had had an assful of movies about my people with titles taken from a take-out menu, a decision I ruefully made after buying a copy of the film PORK WITH PEKING SAUCE, which turned out to be a pornographic political tract, shot on videotape and starring a German male and an Asian she-male. I won't bore you with the details, but suffice it to say I taped over it with the Janeane Garofalo nihilist-romcom vehicle SWEETHEARTS the next time I housesat for a friend who had cable.

Anyway, I was dragged to see MUCH ADOBO by some friends -- mostly by my and Milos' mutual galpal Mariko Wood, who is as glamorous and she is whip-smart and hilarious and wealthy [wink] -- and liked the film. Even by indy standards, it's ragged and cheap-looking -- it made GO FISH look as lavish as THE GODFATHER -- but it's fun and funny and you can almost see yourself masturbating to it, which you couldn't say for most romcoms around that time. As a side note: With the Hollywood Romantic Comedy at a new low, why are none of the good-but-somewhat-clunky indy romcoms available on DVD? ADOBO isn't. SWEETHEARTS isn't, TOMORROW NIGHT isn't.

Where was I? Oh yeah, so I'm watching this movie, and all I'm thinking is "Why couldn't the nice-guy lead in this shambles be in a really good romantic comedy? ... Is there another Jujubee in this box? It feels like it does. Dammit I can't reach it! Sonofabitch, I have a crappy mint one stuck in my teeth and I need another one to go in and pull it out AND THIS LAST FUCKING ONE WON'T COME OUT OF THE BOX!!!!! If it wasn't FUCKING MINT, I wouldn't mind but IT'S ALWAYS A FUCKING MINT ONE that gets stuck in my teeth! Fuckers do this on purpose; they put in just so many Jujubees in a box and make sure that you're left with one in your teeth so you have to go buy another box!!!! I'll KILL THEM ALL THE DIRTY NO-GOOD -- hey, there's the nice-guy lead again! Ha ha! That kid's great -- who is he? He's cute, but not Long-Duk cute -- I bet he could play a love interest to a white female and sell it even to the bewildered herd! Finally! Hey, my last Jujubee just popped out of the box! It's a SIGN!!! Take THAT, you toothpaste-tastin' bastard! As soon as I get home, I'm writing a romcom for this fuckin' guy and gettin' it fucking made and collect a shelf of fuckin' awards. And then, I'm gonna melt them down into bomb casings, packing each one with C-4 and taking out every Jujubee factory that makes these little mint-flavored chunks of Hell until they stop making mint Jujubees!!! I'll be a hero to movie and candy fans worldwide, whatever this kid's name is will be the Asian Hugh Grant and everyone will be happy!!!!!!!!!!"

Unfortunately, I was distracted by a flock of seagulls on the way home, and forgot all about the brilliant plot I had in my mind for an Asian dood/White chippie romantic comedy and the actor who could be its male lead. Fast-forward to a few days ago, when Milos and I are watching the new MR. SHOW DVD set, and who do I see? That kid from the ADOBO movie! He's in the episode "Flat-Top Tony and the Purple Canoes" and he's great. He's cute, he's funny, he's so convincing in both roles I've seen him in that I have no idea what his actual gender preference for mating is and he's got a great name: Kennedy Kabasares. Catchy, isn't it? He'll be a movie star someday, or my name isn't

-- Gojira Kijou

Fuck you, Fat Man.

2004-08-09T11:25:00.000+09:00

Today is the 59th anniversary of Yankee Bluejeans' push-button annihilation of the Japanese city of Nagasaki with "Fat Man," the second atomic bomb. I'm not surprised the anniversary didn't make your news broadcasts either.

Some interesting tidbits about the A-bombings that you tiny Merkins probably didn't learn in your schools:

Japan was not a nation of kamikaze pilots, so that guestimate of 1,000,000 U.S. casualties if they had invaded the country is kinda on the highballed side. Trust me, I saw how fast the average Japanese civilian ran when an army or two started "throwing their shit down" back then. It wouldn't have been easy, but assuming that there would be widespread suicides and civilian attacks speaks more to the honkies' racist views of the Japanese.

Japanese diplomats were already three months into negotiating a surrender when the bombs were dropped. The sticking point was that the Emperor had to retain his station. Once the Merkins were done bombing the fuck out of the country, they granted Japan this condition in its unconditional surrender.

The big excuse for several decades wasn't "Remember Pearl Harbor" but rather pointing to the incendiary holocausts that razed Tokyo and Dresden as examples of far worse atrocities that the U.S. had already committed: "In for a penny, in for a pound." Neither excuse holds much water with me.

A key aspect of the Allies' South Pacific war plan originally called for the U.S. to notify the Japanese that they were about to deploy a terrible new weapon against them. The U.S. kinda sorta forgot to do this part. Each bombing detail comprised only three planes, so no air-raid warning was given for either bombing on the assumption that they were just flying reconnaissance.

There was no order from President Harry S. Truman nor the top U.S. brass to bomb Nagasaki; the Army Air Corps was simply ordered to continue A-bombing Japan as quickly as each bomb was produced.

Hiroshima was the primary target because of its large amount of military factories, but Nagasaki was actually fourth on the To-Incinerate list, after Kokura and Ni'igata, also big military industrial towns.

Fifty-nine years ago, the B-29 named "Bock's Car" and its escorts [one of which was the Enola Gay] circled around the city of Kokura, which was completely overcast with clouds after a major tropical storm, looking for an opening in the cloud cover to drop the bomb. After a few hours, they swung over to the nearby city of Nagaski, saw the city through a break in the clouds and utterly destroyed it in a matter of seconds.

The clouds saved Kokura and damned Nagasaki. I know, I know -- it's bizarre that they wouldn't just drop the damn thing where they knew the city was; it's not like clouds could even slow an atomic-bomb explosion down. It's kinda like how doctors rub the crook of a death-row inmate's arm with an alcohol swab so he doesn't get an infection from the needle through which he's about to receive lethal injection of poison, isn't it? Something like that.

Dear Kirsten Dunst,

2004-08-06T20:24:00.000+09:00

I've heard, through the grapevine of our mutual friends in the industry, that you're giving a lot of thought to "going under the knife" of a plastic surgeon to get your "baby teeth" fixed.

Please, please please reconsider. If not for yourself, then for all the young girls to whom life has dealt a cruel hand by endowing them with freakishly small adult choppers. These girls have long needed a role model to look up to, a grown-up who can show them that, despite their little teeth, they can grow up to be a rich and successful actress and music-video cameo-maker.

I once was a wildly successful actor with embarrassingly small teeth, so I know what's like to be where you are right now. Take it from me, plastic surgery is a really bad idea. One of my biggest regrets is the ridiculous amount of work I had done over the years, aside from getting a lazy eye fixed after my first film. But that was more of a health thing than cosmetic. Oh, and of course there's the dorsal-spike reconstruction I needed after getting whacked with a real radio tower instead of a breakaway prop during a shoot for one of my first Heisei pictures. [There's a really funny story here about repeatedly running into that furry ponce Burt Reynolds at the same chiropractor -- Burt had the same thing happen to him with a chair while doing a fight scene -- but that's for another time.] I mean, look at me; I was so cute back then!

So: Please, Kirsten Dunst, leave your teeth alone. The females of your species will love and respect you for your integrity and, from what I understand, the males have yet to even notice your teeth, since they can't take their eyes off your chest teats. You could buy one of those wind-up chattering-teeth novelty toys [or use a little of your SPIDER-MAN 2 money to have Morton Downey Jr.'s grave robbed of his freakishly large, undoubtedly petrified teeth] and shove it in your mouth for all the difference it would make to how that half of the populace sees you. The important thing is that you learn from my deeply regretted mistakes and embrace your role-model status in the baby-toothed-adult community. I thank you for your time and consideration.

Warmest Regards,
Gojira Kijou

ps. We should totally do a film together sometime. Have your people call my pe-- well, have them e-mail me. I'm between management at the moment. Thanks!

ALL QUIET ON THE NORTHWESTERN FRONT

2004-07-25T11:38:00.000+09:00

The nerds are all at their big annual nerdcon, Milo is ferverently praying, probably for a massive disaster to wipe San Diego from the face of this fallen Earth, and I'm watching a cheapo Good Times documentary about the Little Rascals. I should tell my Spanky McFarland story here, but I want to get this stupid blog thing done for today. Here, links:

Illustrator Supreme Jeff Parker is audioblogging from the big Comicon. My favorite entry of the five so far is the one where he talks about a mattress blocking on of the lanes of the 405 and screwing up traffic -- it's funny because it's true! -- but each audioblog entry has something to make it worth your while to download and listen to, and it's always fun to chart the downward spiral of someone who expected the worst at the outset who then experiences the slow rolling hell of those fears being realized before his eyes. Hee hee hee!

I really should look into what you need to audioblog, since typing is a pain in my enormous ass. I hope I won't have to say "Post" in a low, dorky voice at the end of a message to post it, since my vocal cords are too long and mighty to accommodate your silly monkey grunts.

Via Warren Ellis: Reason #1563459 for Why Apple Computers Are The Finest Machines Ever Made ... for Morons With Way Too Much Money. I forget if I shared reason #1563458 with you folks or not; if I didn't, here it is.

Now, I'm sure that the hype about Apple being computer ichiban number one was true once upon a time, in the same way the the Volkswagen Bug was once the best car money could buy. Now, not even the tourists will buy that horseshit and Apple's cachet is fading fast. That it's not gone entirely is mostly due to the fact that hipsters don't comparison shop.

Milos pointed out how one of my main hobbies is people-watching, yet none of that comes through in my blogging. So I think I'll regularly post a link to a stranger's online journal that I find fascinating -- hopefully this will be a charming, Amelie-like thing, not a creepy, Travis Bickle thing. Here's my current favorite, since the music changes so often, but is always rather catchy. The blog itself makes me wish I could remember what I was like at 21.

And finally, I have not now, nor have I ever fucked a building. And if I had, I would've done a lot better than two bland crackerboxes on the shitty tip of Manhattan. No, if I was gonna make love to a skyscraper, it would be the Chrysler Building. Such soft and graceful lines, such a romantic view in every direction, such lovely granite ......... Where was I? Ah yes, you meat twigs really can't help but project your little perversions onto everything in sight, can you? Just because your species needed to invent the inflatable fuck doll doesn't mean the rest of us are so hard up that we'll bang inanimate objects.

GOJIRA STRIKES OUT ON HIS OWN

2004-07-19T01:37:00.000+09:00

Yep, I started my own damn blog! I'll still guest-post here, however.

Sincerely,
Gojira Kijou

GOJIRA STARS IN "DESTROY ALL NERDLINGS!"

2004-07-18T06:18:00.000+09:00

hello humans,

I'm Gojira, blah blah blah. Let's get to the mail:

dearest gojira, will you be attending any popular culture conventions this year like the san diego comicon or the various g-fan shows? what do you think of them in general? love mari

Dear Mari,

I don't go to nerdcons mostly because I hate nerds, but also they remind me of a sad story from my past. In 1970, I was on a private cruise with my dear friend and mentor Orson Welles, his lovely collaborator/companion Oja Kodar -- the were in town to hustle up some money to keep production of THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WIND going [at one point, I was going to produce the whole thing and play the aging bullfighter/film director protagonist in the film, but my studio had me in an ironclad exclusive contract til 1975]-- and my agent Morty.

We were just off the San Diego coast when we dropped anchor and Orson and I went swimming. From where I stood, I could see the line of little nerdlings waiting to enter the convention hall for the first San Diego Comicon. Once I realized what was going on over there, I saw an opportunity to do the world a favor by wiping a huge concentration of dorks and their depressingly large amounts of disposable income from this Earth. I was working up a little tsunami to soften the con center up for me to incinerate with my mighty atomic breath when Orson, who was floating on a Boogie Board next to me, said something like "Come on, my good man -- they're NERDS, utterly invisible to the ladies. They'll never breed, and will thus be gone in a generation -- and what is a man's generation to a creature as eternal as yourself?"

Now, the children of those nerds debate about who would win in a fight, Unicron or Godzilla -- and I have no one to blame but myself. I should've known that there had to be female nerds -- there is no front with a back, no ying without a yang, no lingham without a yoni -- and that they weren't so socially retarded to not figure out how to breed eventually. So, I don't like conventions, because their existance rubs my nose in the fact that I failed to seize a chance to make the world a better place.

Sincerely,
Gojira Kijou

Send Gojira any comments/questions you would like him to answer at gooseberrysprig "at" yahoo.com. This column doesn't write itself, you know.

THE DOPEST SHIT AROUND, PART THE SECOND

2004-07-18T06:08:00.000+09:00

I see that this smart feller and this smart feller are hip enough to know that Proust is where it's at in the '00s.

GOJIRA ISSUES A MEME

2004-07-11T11:37:00.000+09:00

I thought it would be fun to get one of those "meme" things going -- they're like trying to get a "wave" going at a baseball game, right? Those always look like fun, but whenever I start standing up and down, yelling and waving my arms, the crowd freaks the fuck out and flees and the next thing I know, The Man is trying to shove an Oxygen Destroyer down my throat or up my ass. So, here's the next thing for me!

I found a copy of the Proust questionnaire online, and what's cooler and more fun than Proust and talking about yourself, huh???

Copy and paste the questions below and answer them in your blog [and link to this post or I'll smash you and your pitiful home flat]! Let's get an intellectual wave a goin'!!! WooOOOoooOOOoooOOOooo!!!!!

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
The years 1978-1983.

Where would you like to live?
Having Pangaega back would be nice.

What is your idea of earthly happiness?
Good friends, good conversation and a few metric tons of good food.

To what faults do you feel most indulgent?
Vanity, careless destruction, masturbation.

Who are your favorite heroes of fiction?
Rokkuchan, Umberto Domenico Ferrari, Ethan Edwards.

Who are your favorite characters in history?
Buddha, Barnum Brown, Abraham Lincoln.

Who are your favorite heroines in real life?
Momoko Kochi, Rei Kikukawa, Margaret Sanger.

Who are your favorite heroines of fiction?
Carol Ainsley McCoy, Kitty Pryde, Mary Magdalene.

Your favorite painter?
Franz Kline.

Your favorite musician?
Akira Ifukube.

The quality you most admire in a man?
Assuming you mean a male human: His opposable thumbs.

The quality you most admire in a woman?
In a female human: The ability to go into heat and mate at will.

Your favorite virtue?
Strength.

Your favorite occupation?
Actor.

Who would you have liked to be?
Akira Kurosawa.

Your most marked characteristic?
My enormous heart.

What do you most value in your friends?
Their lack of fear.

What is your principle defect?
My mighty body.

What is your dream of happiness?
A world where everything is my size.

What to your mind would be the greatest of misfortunes?
Nuclear War.

What would you like to be?
Done with this questionnaire!

In what country would you like to live?
I already live here!

What is your favorite color?
Charcoal Gray, the same as my skin.

What is your favorite flower?
Chrysanthemum.

What is your favorite bird?
The Seagull.

Who are your favorite prose writers?
Haruki Murakami, Kobo Abe, Raymond Chandler.

Who are your favorite poets?
T.S. Eliot, Edgar Lee Masters, Edward Arlington Robinson.

Who are your heroes in real life?
Tomoyuki Tanaka, Toshiro Mifune, Orson Welles.

What are your favorite names?
Godzilla, ThundaLizard54, BigDaddyDino, Fuckstick Le Deux.

What is it you most dislike?
The National Guard.

What historical figures do you most despise?
Paul W. Tibbets, Adolf Hitler, Genghis Khan.

What event in military history do you most admire?
The Battle of Mikatagahara.

What reform do you most admire?
The dismantling of Japan's nationalist military complex following WWII.

What natural gift would you most like to possess?
Flight.

How would you like to die?
My atomic heart explodes, reducing you tiny cretins to a cinder.

What is your present state of mind?
I'm really starting to hate filling this thing out.

What is your motto?
"All attack any creature with more than one head on general principle."

GOJIRA RETURNS AND FOTOBLOGS

2004-07-11T11:16:00.000+09:00

Yes, that's right my pale little meat twig friends, I have returned. I've had an assful of explaining who I am every week; if you don't know, go look at the Saturday entries in the archives to find out.

Since my dear pal Milos is so hepped up about jepgs these days, here's a little something I made a few weeks ago:

I did it when Warren Ellis had a FanSign thing going. I got a little too excited by the chance to play with Microsoft Paint and kinda missed the point of the exercise -- I guess you're supposed to take a picture of yourself with the URL, not draw it on top of photo you already have -- so I never sent it to him. Still, it's rather snazzy graphic work for a three-fingered, 500-foot-tall dinosaur, would you disagree?

GOJIRA KIJOU LIVING

2004-06-20T14:12:00.000+09:00

howdy little nerds,

To both of my regular readers: My apologies for bailing on writing a post last Saturday; my bad!

For those of you who may not be familiar with The Unofficial John Westmoreland Memorial Tribute Webring and how it works, my name is Gojira Kijou, but odds are you know me better as "Godzilla, King of the Monsters." Of course, you fine, foxy female mammals who spend a lot of time looking for love online may know me better by my Web handle "ThundaLizard54" -- and believe you me, once you get to "know" me [wink], you'll never go back to warm-blooded love. Oh yes, baby; yes, indeedy-do.

Anyhoo, my close, personal friend Milos posts to this stupid thing six days a week, but not Saturdays, during which he observes the Sabbath. So I post today, usually by answering letters, comments and e-mails from my fans, casual followers, lawyers and the occasional prison inmate. Without further ado, on to the mailbag!

Dear Gojira, I am preparing to move soon, which means my lovely little aquatic turtle, Foucault, will move with me. As a fellow reptile, do you have any interior design tips for his new digs? Right now it's shaping up to be a huge plastic tub with a floating island and good artificial light, with plentiful goldfish snacks. Anything else I should keep in mind to make him a happy turtle? Your friend, Rose

Dear Rose,

I'm sorry to say that I'm at a bit of loss on suggestions:

One, I'm not a turtle. Turtles are so small that I can't see 'em -- and no offense, but I'm not entirely convinced they exist; the descriptions I've heard have been too ridiculous for me to take seriously. I bet you wouldn't be very good or try very hard at furnishing a leprechaun's home, despite you both being warm-blooded bipeds, right?

Two, I've never been "domesticated," or whatever phrase you meat twigs currently use to whitewash your enslavement, for amusement or labor, of any species that's afraid of vacuum cleaners. You'll have to forgive me for feeling a little uncomfortable giving you design tips for a plantation shack. [By the way, you really should rethink that slave name you gave your "pet"; unless he likes getting his ass kicked by his peers, I would assume poor "Foucault" didn't get to pick his name.]

Three, I know fuckall about interior decoration. I mean, I spent most of my millions of years on this planet a bachelor wandering the Pacific rim; I didn't get married until the mid-'60s, and after that my condo was continuously redone in whatever hideous style was trendy that year as each of my wives would put her "stamp" on the house and "erase" all traces of the previous wife. I barely have need of shelter in the first place; I could care less what kind of wall treatments or lithographs should be on the inside walls.

Still, I would encourage you to keep the water as clean as possible, and you should have at least one of those swimmer things -- you know, like a scuba diver or a submarine that propels itself around a body of water by sucking in water, screening it, and pushing out clean water -- ideally the scuba-diver model, since then your li'l captive can have a human its own size to take out its frustrations on, which hopefully would go a long way toward easing the endless, dull pain caused by its unavoidably miserable life as one of your "possessions."

Hope this helps!

Sincerely,
Gojira

DUE TO CIRCUMSTANCES BEYOND EVEN GOJIRA'S CONTROL

2004-06-13T13:47:00.000+09:00

there will be no guest post today. Mr Kijou will be happy to chat with his fans via the Comment feature tomorrow.

FORT THUNDER FURRIES

2004-06-06T15:34:00.000+09:00

To wrap up the week, here's two photos of some overzealous fans of the seminal artcomics/poster/music/terraforma collective Fort Thunder:

After these pic's were snapped, the two made out on that gnarly tree-stump thing. Ha! I'm just kidding. Actually, they wandered around for a while, did and saw some obscure stuff, and then they made out. Hee hee hee!

Gojira

6/5/2004 part 2

2004-06-06T11:37:00.000+09:00

Milos saved the worst for last, apparently. I can't decide which is uglier:

or:

It's hard to believe that Milos did not attract a suitable mate by representing himself with these images. Ha! I kid because I love.

Gojira

GOJIRA WRITES BACK

2004-06-06T04:48:00.000+09:00

howdy meat twigs,

Everyone knows the drill by now, right? My name's Gojira Kijou, you film buffs might know me as "Godzilla," you ham radio buffs know me as "Guerrilla-whale Radio" and you finefine, single Japanese ladies who've looked for love online may have been wooed by me under the handle "ThundaLizard54." I'm an actor/producer, environmental activist and 500-foot radioactive dinosaur. My pal Milos takes Saturdays off for the Sabbath, so I fill in for him.

This week's mailbag is light, so I think I'll continue this week's jpeg theme after I answer the mail:

godzilla, have you seen this? did warren ellis ask you for permission to put you in his book?and what do you think of bukkake? anony mouse

Dear Anony,

I hadn't heard anything about it before now. That's cool -- I like most of Warren's stuff I've read, and there's nothing I can really do about being in his book even if I wanted to. I forget what your tiny rules say exactly, but my lawyer humans tell me that I'm too public a figure to not be fair game for any artist to use in a piece of fiction. Or something like that.

However, I damned well better be delivering the load, not receiving it.

I won't be fooled again.

Peace, Love and Understanding to you all,
Gojira

GOJIRA HAS COOLED OFF SOMEWHAT

2004-05-30T14:22:00.000+09:00

OK, Milos has explained to me that 93 percent of any webthingee's audience are "lurkers," so a lot of people are reading this and enjoying it, but they don't "rock the vote" or "write letters of comment." I must confess that I've never understood your silly Arabic numbery, but Milos insists that he could show me how this is mathematically true if it wasn't the Sabbath and he could use a pen and a separate sheet paper to show his work. Anyway, he suggested that I just write about whatever I wanna, so I will!

[Milos also pointed out that that nice Tony man linked to us in a recent "Tony's Online Tips" column. Hello little mammals that followed that link! You can read my posts here and here and here and here and here and here and here, and I posted here if you wanna be completist about it.]

Anyhoo, I wanna write more about how great a role GREASE's Sonny LaTieri is. Looking at my last post about it, I forgot that after washing his hands of what plagues him, a newly energized Sonny takes to the dance floor to pull up Patty Simcox's dress in front of the NATIONAL BANDSTAND cameras. [In the film, you can see Sonny start running up behind her to do the deed, but the prettyboy Kenickie is the one seen actually doing it.] Then, his juicy-juiced libido fully engorged, Sonny dares to cockblock Alpha Male/T-Birds Leader Danny Zuko by stealing his dance partner Sandy Dumbrowski just as they're about to win the big dance-off. Sandy immediately rejects Sonny and runs off in disgust, leaving Sonny "at sea" in the vast ocean of the school gym as Danny and Cha Cha dance on to win the prize. THEN, we next pick up on Sonny as the broken wreck who's uncomprehendingly dragged out flash his hairy ass to '50s America. Sonny LaTieri is the role of a lifetime to any true actor.

peace love and understanding,
gojia

ps. the "fuck you"s in my last post still apply to the three people i directed them to, "fyi."

SO THAT'S HOW IT IS, EH???

2004-05-30T11:29:00.000+09:00

I'm Gojira Kijou, blah blah blah -- ah, who gives a shit. Not only does no one have any questions for me, I'm leading in that stupid "What you shitcan?" poll!?!?!?

After thousands of years of peaceful co-existence with you tiny pricks, after 50 years of entertaining you, after testifying before your puny, wrinkly Merkin Congress and "naming names" over The Hitler's Brain Debacle of 1966 and all my charitable work for The Frank Stallone Foundation, it comes down to writing guest posts to some loser's Web blog that nobody likes, eh? Well, fine -- even with my head in the sky, I can read the writing on the wall around the teeny tiny little land-monkey city where I'm not wanted!

Fuck you and you and especially you,
Gojira

SURPRISE GUEST POST FROM MILOS' PINCH WRITER ... GOJIRA

2004-05-27T09:35:00.000+09:00

howdy meat twigs,

Milos's out in the alley, screaming that Metamorphose song at the top of his puny lungs and throwing billiard balls at low-flying planes, so let me entertain you with another effervescent anecdote from my long, fabulous career.

But first! I want to post this link for The Limper -- see, Milos fucked his fragile footsie up a while back and since he's nearly destitute, he hasn't gone to the human veterinarian to get it fixed, so I [and I alone] call him The Limper -- anyway, please imagine my awesome frame astride home plate of an athletic stadium, pointing to the far right bleachers since the alley behind them is where Milos's at. [You can occasionally see a pool ball coming up over the stadium wall, and even this far away, you can hear him screaming that stupid theme song over the feeble "roar" of the stadium's crowd. Anyhoozle, this one's for you, Champ:

Pan-ter's Rozz TOX man-eh-fest TOE!
Pan-ter's Rozz TOX man-eh-fest TOE!
Pan-ter's Rozz TOX man-eh-fest TOE!

I like that Gary Panter mammal, and that manifesto of his is like the Little Black Dress of DiY pop aesthetics; it never ever ever goes out of style. I don't like to throw the word "brilliant" around, except for when the press asks me about someone who has the same publicist or agent as I do and stuff like that, but Panter really is brilliant. Someone told me I'm a big influence on his work, which, of course, is a HUGE compliment -- and I'm absolutely stoked to hear that his next book, JIMBO IN PURGATORY, will be extra-large for my benefit! Hoo boy, I can't wait to get my copies of that and Artie Spiegelman's also-thin-and-really tall book IN THE SHADOW OF NO TOWERS and then pitch them in battle against the short-and-superthick anthology duo of Sammy Harkham's KRAMERS ERGOT 5 and Chris Ware's MCSWEENEYS 13! It's sure to be the artcomics battle of the century!!!!! And then, when they're done fighting, they can be friends! Ha! I can't wait until I can make a little fort from them -- ideally the low-and-long fort, where KRAMERS and MCSWEENEYS hold up the "roof" of TOWERS and JIMBO, than the short-and-tall fort! That's gonna be so NEAT!!!!!!!! Hee hee hee!

Anyway, the faint but incessant sound of Milos' shrieking that theme song got me thinking about one of my most amusing musical-theater adventures; this was 1980, and I was co-producing and directing a production of GREASE. It felt genuinely good to be working "behind the scenes" for a change -- although it was quite challenging work, since this was an open-air production in the round. Very difficult for me to find scenes to be completely behind! I would have loved to have stayed far far offstage until the night's curtain call -- the project was a labor of love and a laboratory for artistic experimentation, not an excerise in ego-stroking or a crass grab for cash -- but the money men wouldn't fully back the show unless I acted in it too. OK, fine, whatever. Everyone wanted me to play Danny Zuko, but I wanted to play Sonny LaTieri. Yes, Sonny. Here's the closest thing to a picture of the human who played him in the movie [his face is mostly behind John Travolta's hand] if the name doesn't ring a bell.

I thought the role was the richest, most fascinating of the cast; each of the T-Birds have a natural analogue in the Pink Ladies with which to trade banter, dance and mate with -- but Sonny remained alone, as Marty Maraschino only had eyes for Vince Fontaine, the Scorpion leader and almost anyone other than Sonny. There are all sorts of fascinating nooks and crannies to explore with the character: When Sonny offers the whitebread Kenickie a bite of his salami -- simultaneously an attempt to bridge the cultural and ethnic gap between pudgy Italiana and chisel-cheeked WASPery as well as a clumsy homosexual come-on born of Sonny's deep, intractable sexual confusion stemming from Marty's paradigm-shifting rejection of him as a temporary mate/companion -- Kenickie rejects both Sonny's race and his phallus with a faintly racist bon mot about Sonny's poor hygiene.

While the other T-birds drank, ate and partied together, Sonny is alone among them. At the dance, Sonny comes alone, armed with a gift for Marty, who's clearly just tagging along with the Scorpions leader [and I don't mean Michael Schenker!] and Rizzo. Sonny's wooing of Marty is quickly rebuffed when she sees the bland TV honkey Fontaine and leaves Sonny alone ... again. Our hero is next seen defiantly striding across the dance floor and pulling long swigs from a hip flask during the "Hand Jive" segment, again emphasizing the isolation, sexual hysteria ["hand jive," indeed] and substance abuse that drive this noble buffoon. He spikes the punch with his hooch, and when an authority figure demands to know what he's doing, Sonny tells him "Just washing my hands." That's right -- WASHING HIS HANDS OF THE BANKRUPT HYPOCRISY HE'S DROWNING IN! It's at this point that he stops "playing the '50s game" of teen society and mating rituals. When Doody and Putzie decide to flash their bare asses to the NATIONAL BANDSTAND camera during Danny and Cha Cha's spotlight dance, they have to drag a drunken, defeated Sonny to do the deed, reducing the once proud young man to merely a "blue moon."

I could go on and on about why he's the best character in the cast for an actor looking for a real artistic workout. Also, Sonny didn't have to sing and dance as much as the others, which was a big plus for me and the windows of surrounding buildings for miles in every direction. Anyway, the Mr. Moneybags said "No, we want you to be Danny." I said "No, I want to play Sonny and if you ask me to play Danny again I'll smash you flat right here and now." They said "How about you play Coach Calhoun and we'll give you three percent of the gross." So I played the Coach instead, which I really regret since I can play the Coach now but I don't think the crowd would believe me as Sonny at this point. Shoulda taken the road less traveled. Fiddlesticks.

Yours Truly,
Gojira Kijou

THE STUPID LOSER'S FRIEND BLOGS AGAIN

2004-05-23T05:07:00.000+09:00

Greetings Mammals,

It's Saturday, so I'm here to guest post. This is Gojira Kijou, but you non-cineastes would know me better as my best-known role, "Godzilla, King of the Monsters," and you AOLers who hang out in the "Shin-Issei Singles" chatroom would know me as "ThundaLizard1954." In case you're bad with names, here's a picture:

how, palefaces

My sinuses are really acting up and there's slim pickin's in this week's mailbag, so let's make this one short and sweet:

Yo - I'd just like to let you know that your friend Milo is a loser, and I bet I could kick your ass if you have friends as stupid as that. Don't even know your own name, fucking retarded lizard. Caleb Wright

OOOOoooOOOOoooOOOO! I'm SO scared! PLEASE don't HURT me, you big tough meat-ant!

See, this is why guys like me and Mike Tyson don't go to the clubs anymore; around every corner is some anonymous fuckstuck nimrod who thinks he's one open can of whupass shy of an instant rep as the number-one badass of Earth if he can take down a famous destructive badass like me. Then, after the nimord starts the fight and promptly get his ass handed to him, he sues you! Cockbiters.

And it doesn't seem to matter what station you warm-blooded tards hold in life -- a junior-college student who only works at Arby's part-time to support his Pogs obsession, the President of the Philippines and/or C.C. Deville's replacement in Poison -- you males see me and immediately have delusions of grandeur. Get over yourselves; I've been to many planets and seen a scad of different species you couldn't even imagine, and I followed mankind's evolution over a bazillion years. Twenty-First Century Man-kind has about the same amount of Alpha-Male cojones as the average "male" in a testicular-cancer-survivor support group on Planet Zero. You're not fooling your "girlfriend" or anyone else with that faux-macho bullshit.

Yours Truly,
Gojira

ps. keep the letters a comin', folks. This column doesn't write itself, you know.

GOJIRA WALKS THE LINE

2004-05-16T04:45:00.000+09:00

Another week gone by, huh? Where does the time go? Keep those letters a' comin' in to gooseberrysprigatyahoodotcom, friends. Or post 'em to the comments thingee on the page, I don't care. On to the letter of the week!

Dear Godzilla, Your so fuggin RAD! My cellmate and I always thought you were cool but after reading your blogs to this sight we KNOW your cool now!!! Do you ever perform at prisons or plan to anytime in the next 45 years? Yours truly, Martin, [web address withheld by request]

Dear Martin,

I used to make appearances at prisons -- I can certainly sympathize with anyone who finds himself on the wrong side of The Man! -- until an unfortunate incident during a show that I co-headlined with Johnny Cash at Chuckawalla Valley State Prison a few years ago. As part of the settlements, my lawyers promised the state of California, the families of the inmates I incinerated and the local residents who suffered collateral damage that I wouldn't say much of anything about the incident, but suffice it to say I wasn't paying close enough attention where I was moving my tail inside "the yard," and even the best-behaved medium-to-minimum security inmate will forget all about "the honor system" if the main machine-gun/lookout post and a 50-foot gap in The Wall are wiped out in one swipe.

I still think unwittingly triggering a mass-escape/riot was worth it just to see Johnny Cash standing in front of the smashed opening, smacking the escaping inmates [who looked like lemmings going off the cliff, hee hee] right and left with what was left of a Martin D-28 acoustic guitar. So I got a little too into it and fried a couple dozen escapees with my atomic breath -- so WHAT??? I figured, the guards were shooting, John was swinging, I could and should join in! The lawsuits that followed wiped my savings out, which didn't affect me any -- despite my fame and success, I am a radioactive dinosaur of simple tastes and besides, the money couldn't have paid for my daily sustenance if I had to buy it rather than just take it from the bounty of the vast ocean and the nuclear reactors of man's idiocy -- but your species of tiny hypocrites really piss me off sometimes. No one sued the guards who shot and killed inmates, no one sued John, but I get smacked with a dozen class-action lawsuits and the U.S. government threatens to revoke my work visa for reducing a few ESCAPING CONVICTED CROOKS to an environment-friendly ash??? Fuck you. You all know it's because I'm Asian.

Anyhow, thank you for the very nice note, Martin. I'll be sure to walk by your facility some time in the next half-century so you can at least get an eyeful of my awesome size and might, and if you send me another note letting me know what block you're in, I'll be happy to wave at your building.

Sincerely,
Gojira

By the way, since I know this blog is visited mostly by comics nerds, lonely shut-ins who are too socially retarded to be able to "hook up" even on Friendster, I thought I'd share this wonderful site with Milos' readership. Be sure to drop me a note and let me know of any success stories you nerds have of meeting, courting and mating with the prisoners you find there.

IF IT'S SATURDAY, THEN THIS MUST BE GOJIRA'S GUEST POST

2004-05-09T11:41:00.000+09:00

Good evening humans,

I'm Gojira Kijou. You probably know me best as the lead actor in such films as GODZILLA, GODZILLA VS. KING KONG and my latest ALL MOSTERS ATTACK, although I've also had a long career on the stage and in radio in addition to my philantropist work, protecting the envioronment and regularly donating to the non-profit think-tank created by this site's host, The Wipe Out Endemic Treponematosis Within Milos' Lifetime Foundation.

I've been talked into writing this stupid guest post thing every week now, but Milos claims he can't pay me anything ... "BLah blah blah, think of how much fun it would be to interact with your fans all over the world, think of the children, you know I'd do the same favor for you, besides you don't need the money you greedy douchbag, blah blah fuggin' blah." And that's what he actually said. Jerk. Let's just open the mailbag and get this over with:

*points skyward; lips move out of sync* Aaaah! Godzilla! No! It's him- Godzilla! Aaaaaaah! The monster named Godzilla is attacking the city! Aaaah! No, Godzilla! It is Godzilla, come to destroy us all! Godzilla! Aaaaaaaaaaah! Sincerely, Chris Ekman

Dear Chris,

Yeah, yeah, yeah -- like you're the first putz to do that "Aaaaaaaah! Godzillaaaaaaaaa!" bit. Hilarious. Why don't you go get Lenny Nimoy to show you the Vulcan mind pinch or whatever that bullshit is called? I can eat your parents' house without blinking an eye and then, once their basement is exposed, chicken-fry you and all your nerdly possessions with one atomic-powered belch. Don't fuck with me, dork.

-- Gojira

GOJIRA POSTS AGAIN

2004-05-01T18:57:00.000+09:00

hey there hi there ho there!

Milos said he's decided to "keep it real" and observe the sabbath, so I guess I'll be guesting this page every Saturday until he cannonballs off the kosher bandwagon into the goyim deep end! I hope I got the right faith you observe on Saturday -- it's definitely not the one with the "t" necklaces, so it's gotta be either the one where you wear a bathtowel on your head or the one wear you waer a beanie. I can never keep what you humans believe straight in my head since I can barely see you down there. 'Sides, all the meeting buildings smash the same to me! No offense, folks -- I'm just sayin'. Um, to the mailbox!

Dear Godzilla, I'm pleased to hear that you're back on your swimming-pool-sized feet and out to take the film world by storm once again. I couldn't help but wonder if you'd lost the magic at a certain point, leaning on King Caesar or Jet Jaguar for victories that a younger, hungrier Godzilla could have won even if he had his arm in a sling and was on the tweak. (If I had to, I'd peg your decision to pander to the Yankees by taking a fall in the American version of "King Kong vs." as the turning point.) I'm glad that you're back in business, and hoping that this means I will soon be reading about Dean Devlin and Roland Emmerich in the obituary column. Your lifelong fan, Sean

Dear Sean,

Don't call it a comeback; I've been here for years, aside from a brief period in the late '70s when I left film to return to my first love, the theatre. I'm not quite as prolific as Woody Allen, but I put out a new movie almost every year.

As for Jet Jaguar and King Seesar, after a while, I felt obligated to "give something back" to the field that had made me the most prosperous radioactive dinosaur the Earth has even seen. I'll admit that I had grown bored with the role and the franchise, and wanted to be taken seriously as an actor. So I agreed to share the spotlight with some of the newer Toho contract players. Poor Seesar "had no helmet"; he reminded me a lot of Sal Mineo, where there's just nothing you could've done to save him from himself. Very sad. Jet Jaguar was a complete asshole; I'm not surprised in the slightest that he's a vice-president of marketing at NBC now.

I hate to say it, but you know what annoys me about you gibbering little Yankee Bluejeans? You all forget that Godzilla was the heavy in the first few movies. I know you racist mammals get your jollies watching me trash Tokyo, but that carnage was considered a bad thing when we shot the first few movies. I hear the Japanese masturbate to the scenes in the Devlin & Emmerich movie where that scab they hired to replace me trashes New York. Howdoya like them Fuji apples???

regards,
Gojira

Letters to Gojira should be sent to gooseberrysprig at yahoo.com. Be sure to include an URL, since linking to stuff on a blog is really cool.

SUNDAY'S GUEST POST FROM MILOS' BESTEST RADIOACTIVE-DINOSAUR PAL

2004-04-26T02:20:00.000+09:00

hey there tiny humans!

Milos took the day off, so I'm filling in for him again. My name is Gojira, though you film buffs probably know my better by my stage name "Godzilla" and you CB radio buffs would know me as "Big Daddy Dino." Anyhoozle, before he left, Milos told me "You Have Mail." Ha! I know what that means now! By the way, sorry if there are any typing errors in my post, I'm still having trouble typing on this tiny laptop. Onward!

Dear Godzilla, I just watched your latest movie Godzilla, Mothra and King Ghidorah: Giant Monsters All-Out Attack and wanted to say "thank you" for perhaps the classiest, most sincere and touching smashing of cities and puny humans I've ever seen. My small contribution to your success - buying and watching every one of your movies - has been one of the best and most defining habits of my life, certainly my life as it relates to building miniature cities out of Legos and then smashing them to pieces. The doctors call it therapy, but I think of it as an act or spiritual communication with my inner lizard. I can't even being to express to you how much I treasure your example. Your friend always, Tony

Dear Tony,

Thank you for your very kind words about GMA-OA. Your note is so warm that holding it to my mighty torso warmed the otherwise ice-cold blood in that general area.

I'm glad you noticed how I "kicked my acting up a notch," as you youngster mammals would put it -- at my age, I have to really "bring it" to every film I do if I want to stay in front of the cameras. I've been studying with James Lipton personally for a few years, but I think I've broken out of a lot of bad habits I've developed over my long acting career in that film. Also, I've gotten back in touch with the young, irradiated thunder lizard out to prove himself that I was when I started out in this game back in '53 ... so you won't catch me doing mostly directing these days, like that Eastwood fruit, or reduced to voice-over work for cartoons, like my old galpal Annie Potts, any time soon!

Now, I know that it's fun to imitate the monster I play in the movies, but my legal consul told me to tell you and all of my other human fans that you shouldn't do imitate me, because you could really hurt yourself -- or worse, somebody else! Keep in mind that my stunt double and I are trained professionals working on specially made soundstages under controlled circumstances, and every measure is taken to make sure no one gets hurt! What if your mother stepped on a Lego from a "building" you smashed? You'd feel pretty bad, wouldn't you? You certainly feel bad if you accidentally swallowed a Lego in your frenzy! I understand that your feeble digestive system doesn't cotton to plastic very well, and that Legos aren't very fun coming out the human anus. Just say "No!" Tony!

I'm honored and humbled to know that, despite your fragile composition and puny size, you seem to think enough of my work that you seek to follow my example. If you do, then stay in school, study hard, volunteer to help the needy when you can, attack any creature with three heads on general principle, and never give up on your dreams.

Sincerely,
Gojira "Godzilla" Kijou

GUEST POST FROM MILOS' CLOSE PERSONAL THUNDER-LIZARD FRIEND

2004-04-18T22:05:00.000+09:00

Hello!

Milos took the day off to do ... something else I guess, so he asked me to fill in. Anyhoo, my name is Gojira Kijou, but you probably know me better by my stage name, Godzilla. Here's a picture of me in case you're bad at remembering names:

Hi, how's it goin'?

So, blogging ... yeah. Wow, this is harder than I thought; it doesn't help that I'm 500 feet tall and typing this on Milos' laptop -- normally I'm only aware of how tiny you mammals are when I step on a dozen of you when I'm not careful where I step -- but jeez louise, how do people do this every day???

I guess I should link to something -- that seems to be the "in" thing -- sooo, hey the site I got the photo of me is pretty cool: www.godzillatemple.com. Um, right.

OK, how's this: if any of my fans would like to send me a note c/o Milos, I'll be happy to respond to them in my next guest column. Please include your age, and an URL, since I like being "hip" with the linkings. Until then, I bid you all

peace , love and understanding,
gojira