On killers

Lieutenant Colonel Dave Grossman's well-argued theories on killing don't apply to the Japanese (because there's something wrong with their brains as I've stated before). Check out Takashi Miike's Ichi The Killer for proof.




You could call this film a less polished precursor to Chan Wook Park's Oldboy directed with the energy of Mark Neveldine/Brian Taylor production. That wouldn't really be doing it justice though. Rent it and see. It goes well with the sake sampler from Miya's on Howe Street (no flavored syrups; the apples are brewed right in!), and a big plate of tempura shrimp. Oh yes. The shrimp are vital.

Is it possible I'll be recommending anything that is not a Japanese splatter film ever again? Yes. Is it likely? I think you know the answer to that.

PS - I'm sad to report a mosquito gave me the west nile, and there won't be any new updates while I relearn how to type with my amputated left hand. It's my hope a vengeance-driven mechanic can construct some kind of eviscerating device to serve me as a prosthetic.