darkman clued me in on a new film coming out, winged migration. it is from the makers of microcosmos but dedicated to birds instead. cosmos was a phenomenal film focusing on the greatly overlooked insect kingdom. it had two hours worth of super-duper-close-ups of insects doing what insects do which is remarkably similar to what we all do. but, the real wonder of this film is in its technical achievements. how they captured what they captured is simply incomprehensible.

my favorite scene from cosmos followed a dung beetle as it rolled a tightly packed ball of, you guessed it, crap to some private place. the sphere was about twice his size and he would stand up on his hind legs and use his front legs, arms, claws, not sure, to roll the orb from the top. during his trek he inadvertently impaled the ball on a small branch sticking out of the ground and it became totally stuck. this little guy worked his crunchy little ass off kicking dirt out from his back legs. he finally backed up and studied his parcel and i swear he looks just like your dad as he might eye a flat tire in a midnight rain. perplexed the dung beetle walks around the ball and discovers the problem. at this point he shook his head, and i mean he literally looked down at the ground and shook his head. if his little paw could have reached his forehead he would have slapped it and if he could speak he certainly would have muttered "am i a dumb ass or what." he then got up on the front of the ball and pushed it backwards off the twig, waddled back to the other side and, pushed the ball around the branch and continued his journey.

i've always said that if i won the lottery, i'd fund the arts, as i know the arts. i'd give the secret cajun band piles of money to continue making music that makes me smile. i'd financially support my cousin who can draw everything from battleaxe-wielding, cleavage-ridden warriors to chaotic sporting scenes with great realism. i'd also fund bookpimp's potential film making career, but his stipend would come with a condition. he'd have to make a film styled after microcosmos but focusing on the odd and private things about the human body. imagine a super close-up of your mother plucking her eyebrows or your college roommate pinching a large blackhead from his greasy cheek, the cloudy cartilaginous plug filling the whole movie screen as it was forced through the infected pore. and you know that if troy dearmitt's name appeared on the produced by line, there would have to be a fifteen minute montage dedicated to 'the magic of flatulence'. like i said, the arts as i know them because i'm dead certain there is an untapped fortune behind what isabella excitedly refers to as 'juicy-gas'.