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Then there's the even more epic one from Ben Hur where Charlton Heston and Stephen Boyd had the awesome chariot race.

Amazing scenes, truly epic film-making; compared to today?

They'll never better any of the three most recent videos in this thread.



Somewhere in the movie, while they're shooting a scene, a car can be seen driving along just at the edge of the picture: you probably wouldn't notice it f you didn't already know it was there. Of course, when it comes to epic movie scenes, anyone trying to tell me that Jaws beat Moby Dick gets a clatter. Gregory Peck was/is absolutely fucking awesome from start to finish. The closing scene where he's tied himself to the whale and can be seen to be waving his arm in a beckoning fashion to call his sailors to kill the whale before it disappears under the surface is permanently etched into my mind since childhood.

It was one of those movies that actually rated next to the book.

The closing scene of Jaws by comparison?

'Smile, you bastard'?

Pretty cool.

But not Gregory Peck with a neck-beard cool.
 
I definitely prefer older history films. The Napoleon film released last year effectively makes the man look like a bumbling idiot. Even Napoleon's enemies could admit he was a genius of military strategy, on par with Caesar and Alexander the Great. The legal system he enacted is still practiced in France and throughout many other countries in Europe and Latin America.

But then again Ridley Scott is one of those Englishmen with a bee in his bonnet concerning all things French.

 
Lots of great French movies, but none came close to me as Betty Blue.

It's like the writer (Gabriel Yared) was telling me the story of my own life.

Plus the timeless soundtrack?

 
The French are big into Independent / Art films. Hollywood blockbusters don't do as well there as they would in Ireland or the UK. I'm not sure if it's simply a wider dislike for Hollywood films, or whether it has to do with the language barrier. Maybe it's a combination of both. The French are also probably the people most hostile to all things culturally American.

Ireland and Britain are by far the most Americanised countries in Europe. In some ways they may as well be the 51st and 52nd states at this stage. Look at Arsefield's for instance - 99% of the time it's Irishmen obsessed with American politics, or trying to find Americanised solutions to Irish problems.
 
Lots of Finnish people are into the whole Americana of the 1950's period: the style, the clothes, and of course the cars.

You'll see loads of long American built cars imported up here, convertibles especially. And you can make your money back on them by renting them out for weddings, retirements, and other family and social events. Pulling up in Sedan is a small part of the Finnish conceived 'perfect wedding'.

Also, when the bride gets kidnapped by the best man and his buddies - they take her away in the car.

The husband has to figure out where they've taken her and has one hour to find her. When he does find her (he gets left clues all over the place) he takes her back and then he has to remove her garters using only his mouth and then she throws the wedding bouquet for the ladies to grab. Finnish weddings are absolutely fucking gas. The traditions are awesome and the fun never ends: after the ceremony, everyone reconvenes to the reception area where they're greeted with a champagne reception. From there it descends into madness.

We used to place bets on things during breaks from the stage:

One was which man's going to ask for 'Paranoid' by Black Sabbath.
Another was which lady would be the first to cry.
Another again would be which drunk is going to wrap his tie around his head and start with the head-banging.
Which lady is going to flirt with a musician.
Who's first to run out to vomit from too much alcohol.
Which drunk's going to ask to join us - then can't remember the lyrics of his chosen song.


It passed the time and the stakes were moderate.

 
Muscle Cars from the 50s - 70s period are used in films and tv shows to this day, e.g. Breaking Bad. Compare one of these beasts to the lame 'Mom Mobile' SUV vans which Dan drives around. In American parlance, Mom Mobile = something suburban mothers drive their kids to soccer practice in. Yet Dan, being as lame as he is thinks he's the shit driving around what amounts to an even lamer vehicle.





 
One thing I find annoying about historical dramas and documentaries is the overuse of plummy English accents by characters.

Caesar was Roman, so he likely had an Italian accent. Robespierre was French, so he likely had a French accent. Neither men sounded like Eton-educated public schoolboys.
 
And I've no doubt that's why Helen kicked you out of the family home, to protect Rachel from a freak like you. Fair play to that woman. She obviously recognised the risk of having you anywhere near a young child.


Oh shut up you scumbag.

You so much as dare contact my family members and / or spread false accusations about me then it'll become a matter for the Gardai and Courts. Mark my words.
 
Oh shut up you scumbag.

You so much as dare contact my family members and / or spread false accusations about me then it'll become a matter for the Gardai and Courts. Mark my words.

That fool ain't going to do jack shit bar keep mumbling about Helen, Leixlip, Rory O'Connor, Sandyford, Cleary, celery, etc.

The man's an idiot - and worse again - an obsessive idiot.

He recently claimed he spent the last two years scraping all the sites to gather intel on you and I.

Two years.

On us.

And he still has noting to show for it.

Pahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Then there's this fucking tulip:



Dear Jambo: if you really need somebody to 'care absolutely' about you, then why not hire a hooker?

Are you so desperate and lonely that you joined Arsefield's to stave off the fear of life alone with only Dutch Gold to care about you?

I care about you - I swear I do: if you were to die by getting your head squashed under a bus (like the gore porn on Arsefield's) I'd care enough to laugh. Imagine a bus driving over Jambo's head? The little blobs of brain mixed in with the wet-with-rain little stones and pebbles in the asphalt? Blood everywhere, the stink of cheap beer off the clothes on his corpse? A pair of knickers on. A set of knuckledusters in each hand?

He'd probably still be arguing some obscure point about the exact nature of his bran of 'nationalism' as learned from his boyfriend teacher Keef Woods.

Here, Jambo: Saul claims to be a simmering violent far-right unemployed neo-nationalist with no qualms about taking a gun or a knife to any immigrants he meets when he's up to The Big Smoke for the Easter weekend shopping. He also harbours a common thief in his home. The thief is forty-three years old and robs houses for a living. Old people's houses in particular. Old Irish people - the very ones who built Ireland for you.

Tell us: where do you and your nationalist buddies stand on Irishmen robbing the homes of nation's elderly generation?

Does your sort of nationalism allow for robbing aul-wans and auld-fellas in and around pension day?

Or is it against the code of, err... . ummm... .......nationalist ethics or what?

How do you feel about discussing Irish nationalism with a known harbourer of a violent burglar who comes armed to the teeth in the dead of night?

Are all of you guys on Arsefield's also thieves or is he the only one?

We know your host is one: he robs the fat dumb tourists after driving them around a few car parks and dusty off-roads just outside Boston city limits.

Maybe you could ask your new pals on the gay bar site what they think about one of their cohorts being a robbing rat bastard's father?

Or not - if it makes your nationalist SWAT team seem a bit hypocritical.

But if you try then I'll try to 'care' about you - absolutely.
 
He keeps waffling about going after the 'South Dublin Engineer' after he's done with me. He seems too dumb to understand that (a) making threats, and (b) spreading defamatory / false rumours are criminal and civil offences. If he ever did act on his threats then I'd have the fucker tracked down, suing him for damages, while taking whatever meagre lot he owns as compensation. Yet Feeney lives in la-la land where he seems to think the laws of the land don't apply to him.

I've noticed Jambo and others throwing around the pop-psychology term 'sociopath' these days. What does that even mean anymore? It used to mean dangerous serial killer (psychopath), yet now it seems to be used to describe half the population....or essentially anybody I don't like. I can imagine that the psychiatry establishment are loving it, their so-called DSM prognoses are making both themselves and the pharmaceutical industry a lot of money. These psychiatrists are the same individuals who used to deem homosexuality and 'female hysteria' mental illnesses...often leading to perfectly normal individuals being locked up in institutions against their will. 'Sociopathy' in my opinion is yet another Mickey Mouse condition used by psychiatrists and psychologists to line their back pockets.
 

Hi Feeney,


▪︎I am employed.

▪︎I've had girlfriends - unlike you.

▪︎I wasn't kicked out of the house. I moved out of my parents house back in 2008 when I was 22. I've been living in an apartment which I've been renting off my parents the past six years. I still visit Leixlip all the time, I stay in the family home during Christmas every year. I guess moving out seems like a bizarre concept for a Mammy's Boy like you.

▪︎My mother couldn't care less about you, or any of the other alcoholic losers on Arsefield's.

▪︎I've never been diagnosed with Asperger's.


You truly are some idiot.
 
He keeps waffling about going after the 'South Dublin Engineer' after he's done with me. He seems too dumb to understand that (a) making threats, and (b) spreading defamatory / false rumours are criminal and civil offences. If he ever did act on his threats then I'd have the fucker tracked down, suing him for damages, while taking whatever meagre lot he owns as compensation. Yet Feeney lives in la-la land where he seems to think the laws of the land don't apply to him.

Well the laws of gravity certainly apply to his Missus.

Seen the droopy tits on her?

Not to mention her five chins - she'd compete with Declan if it were an Olympic event.

I've noticed Jambo and others throwing around the pop-psychology term 'sociopath' these days.

Jambo's just rabbit-holing the fools on Arsefield's - I tried to tell them that months and months ago, but the message hasn't sunk in yet.

Give 'em another six months, maybe by then Jambo'll have broken their will to continue, to stay in the land of the living.

What does that even mean anymore?

Nothing Jambo says means anything.

He's a waffler.

It used to mean dangerous serial killer (psychopath), yet now it seems to be used to describe half the population....or essentially anybody I don't like. I can imagine that the psychiatry establishment are loving it, their so-called DSM prognoses are making both themselves and the pharmaceutical industry a lot of money. These psychiatrists are the same individuals who used to deem homosexuality and 'female hysteria' mental illnesses...often leading to perfectly normal individuals being locked up in institutions against their will. 'Sociopathy' in my opinion is yet another Mickey Mouse condition used by psychiatrists and psychologists to line their back pockets.

Being a member of Arsefield's is quite similiar to the highlighted section.

You can check out any time you like - but you can never leave - you can only be censored by Declan, like what happened to Olli Rehn/Kangas: Declan sat and watched Wolf-balls slag Kanger all day and night every day and night for months on end. Wolfie-balls doesn't really do much else than slag people. He's not a very interesting person in any way but Declan has a lower threshold than I when it comes to taste/quality. Wolfie's still at the same game: if you look at his posts today you'll see that all he does is wind people up, slag them, then ask for them to be banned.

And that's it - that's the whole kit and caboodle.

But Declan likes him - I guess he sees something of himself in Wolfie-balls: perhaps because they're both such sad old losers?

Hard to say, but the show goes on - day and night - for eternity.

Worse than Hell itself.
 

Could you ask your mam if I'd still have enough left over for a bag of chips and can of coke with €10? With inflation these days I might need to bring another euro or two.
 

Could you ask your mam if I'd still have enough left over for a bag of chips and can of coke with €10? With inflation these days I might need to bring another euro or two.

Declan must be face down on the mattress, the lads are having a field day with him lazing around upstairs in the bedroom above the garage.

When he eventually wakes up he'll have his tay and then start deleting all the love letters and poems they wrote for us.

Seriously - not a day passes.. .. ........
 
Declan must be face down on the mattress, the lads are having a field day with him lazing around upstairs in the bedroom above the garage.

When he eventually wakes up he'll have his tay and then start deleting all the love letters and poems they wrote for us.

Seriously - not a day passes.. .. ........

He'll never admit to the fact that he's embarrassed about what Arsefield's has become.
 
Weird the way these guys involve their wives with their blogging?

I would have thought blokes like Wolfie-balls went on the blogs to rant and rage, not compare knickerbockers with some other stranger's wife. Maybe that's the key to Arsefields? The Irish ones swap wives with each other? Imagine being the sucker who got stuck with Mandy's auld wan? The droopy titted mong with the face of a bruiser - covered in even more pimples than little Mandy himself?



So Wolfie's Missus is another sleazy old rag.

Hanging around with manky violent racist pricks and other deranged mental cases addicted to their little Nazi chat-site.

Sluts like that are ten-a-penny over in Galway - the graveyard of ambition.

I'd still run a mile if she was the one I was expected to throw a few lengths into.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesh - not even with Jambo's.
 
Weird the way these guys involve their wives with their blogging?

I would have thought blokes like Wolfie-balls went on the blogs to rant and rage, not compare knickerbockers with some other stranger's wife. Maybe that's the key to Arsefields? The Irish ones swap wives with each other? Imagine being the sucker who got stuck with Mandy's auld wan? The droopy titted mong with the face of a bruiser - covered in even more pimples than little Mandy himself?



So Wolfie's Missus is another sleazy old rag.

Hanging around with manky violent racist pricks and other deranged mental cases addicted to their little Nazi chat-site.

Sluts like that are ten-a-penny over in Galway - the graveyard of ambition.

I'd still run a mile if she was the one I was expected to throw a few lengths into.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesh - not even with Jambo's.



I remember one of them was threatening to contact the Soldiers of Odin in Helsinki to sort out the problem as they'd put it.

I think it was around the same time Val was threatening to walk into Mowl's mother's house and help himself to a cup of tea.
 
Soldiers of Odin sounds like something a cringey / campy / cheesy Power Metal band might call themselves. 🤣

'Grrrrr, the Soldiers of Odin aren't just a band, bro. We're Viking warriors too!'
 
I remember one of them was threatening to contact the Soldiers of Odin in Helsinki to sort out the problem as they'd put it.

Ah, yes: they were asked to be asked to come and 'visit' me - in the Declan Kelly day-dream sense.

I had this ready for them when they knocked on my door:



I think it was around the same time Val was threatening to walk into Mowl's mother's house and help himself to a cup of tea.

Val wouldn't make it halfway down our street without getting himself planted like a shrub.

Not smelling like he does.

Soldiers of Odin sounds like something a cringey / campy / cheesy Power Metal band might call themselves. 🤣

'Grrrrr, the Soldiers of Odin aren't just a band, bro. We're Viking warriors too!'

Real as fuck.. ..as that pea-brained little cunt Saul puts it.

The big dope.

👌
 
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