Thai Cop Gets Life for Double Murder



The verdict is in for Somchai Visetsingha, the Thai policeman who murdered Vanessa Arscott and Adam Lloyd, and the sentence is life in prison.

The two Brits, pictured above, were vacationing in Kanchanaburi, Thailand in September last year when a late night argument with Somchai started in the copper's restaurant.

While what initially sparked the row is still hazy, it is clear that Somchai repeatedly shot Lloyd then mowed down Arscott in his car, dragging her 200 metres before getting out and shooting her execution style as she miraculously tried to crawl away.

Unfortunately, one only has to look at the underlying "logic" that instructed the judge regarding sentencing to determine that the punishment is essentially meaningless.

According to the judge, the only thing that prevented a death sentence was the fact that the accused confessed to the crime shortly after being arrested. Arrested after being on the lam for a month. Anyone who followed the trial will also note that the murderous pig retracted his confession and based his laughable non-defense around claiming a fictitious person committed the crime.

Someone that no one has ever seen or heard of. Actually, it would be hard for anyone to have heard of him, as the brainless cunt making the claim cannot even provide a full name, despite stating that he has known him for years.

Let's clarify, as is often necessary when trying to get your head around complete and utter horseshit glibly spewed in a nation guided by pure, undiluted, mind-numbing, head-up-the-ass insanity:

The murderer was spared the death penalty because he confessed to the crime despite having subsequently retracted his confession and then basing his entire defense around a lie that a retarded 3 year-old would have trouble spinning without being laughed at.

All is not lost for the murdering piece of filth. He quite possibly may appeal the verdict.

The option for appeal seems to be open for one reason...because he retracted his confession. Had he stuck to that confession, the one which allowed him to escape the death penalty, presumably any appeals would have been impossible.

It is for these reasons that I state the sentence appears meaningless. Will he actually spend some time in prison? Probably, as even the Thai public are a notch above lobotomized cattle in terms of gullibility and attention span. Just barely though.

The length of time served will be commensurate to how long the international press can keep this percolating on the backburner. If they are ready to ratchet up pressure as soon as some unctuous and gutlessly rationalized piece of nothingness is offered up as to why the sack of shit is being released early, there may be hope.

Even in the face of that, a short period of time served may be the final eventuality in this case.

That the reputation of Thailand has at least taken another deserved hit is undoubted.

Movie Review: The Machinist

There is a history of Hollywood movies in which the protagonist is balanced on the edge of sanity and the viewer is left to wonder whether the action as seen through the character's eyes is real or imagined. Not least for the reason that the tragic and perplexing ways of the human mind in this regard are not uncommon and provide just the kind of grist appropriate for intriguing and wrenching stories.

Still, in the last few years there has been a spike in the number of such dramas. To bolster my claim I'm not going to name a single one and am too lazy to hunt down the titles which I forget (please feel free to provide the names of these flicks in the comments' section.) (Ah at least the I remember the Russell Crowe movie, A Beautiful Mind.)

Perhaps it is these times of stimulation overdose on numerous fronts and the spectre of an insane and bloody few decades ahead of us that have spawned a mini-genre centered around the breakdown of the mind and the blurring between reality and fantasy. Or maybe the well of ideas is dry.

Regardless, The Machinist is one such film.

Something is very wrong with Trevor Reznik. He is a machinist who works on the grimy shop floor of a small tool and dye production plant in an unnamed, mid-sized, dreary American city. He hasn't had a sound night of sleep for a solid year.

For the voyeur in all of us, Christian Bale, who plays the lead, provides one of the most memorable cinematic examples of an actor undergoing serious physical hardships so as to add to the credibility of his performance.

Bales's emaciated frame is something to behold and will elicit misplaced guffaws from many. The director recognized the attraction of such a rare accomplishment and regular shots of the shirtless wraith feature throughout the first half of the movie. The rapid weight gain by the likes of De Niro in Raging Bull pale in comparison to the truly insane self-torture that must have been necessary to achieve this look.

Just what is haunting Reznik is the mystery. A clever viewer may perhaps unravel the events that have conspired to drive him close to the edge. As the director makes it evident that the "what" has been buried in the main character's own psyche, the audience is likely to be as surprised by the various twists that emerge as Reznik’s mind convulses and forces him to stare down the truth.

The self-loathing doesn't just result in his own misery, as much as he might wish. An industrial accident because of Reznik's lack of sleep and wavering sanity triggers the beginning of the end-game in his own internal battle to come to grips with his troubled recent past. Those around him shake their heads at his unlikely recounting of different events. As a result, not only does Reznik start to question his own take on reality but the viewer also wonders if what they are seeing through his eyes is real.

There are some good supporting roles including Jennifer Jason Leigh as the cliched caring whore of whom Reznik has deemed is the only woman he is worthy. Also, Michael Ironside, the shop floor victim of Reznik's carelessness, an always appropriate addition to noirish dramas such as this.

Flat lighting and overcast skies are featured throughout, and interior shots are washed in a green/grey hue to add to the sombre atmosphere. Close-ups of Bale as he screws up his mug in incomprehension and confusion are also regular features.

The film comes full circle in 2 ways. First, the arrival at the place where the movie began, a flash forward that started the freak show rolling. Most importantly, the ending marks a dilemma overcome by the main character as the cat and mouse game with himself reaches a conclusion. Though there is no carefree, pollyanna future projected as things draw to a close, there is at least a sense that the worst of a self-imposed ordeal is over.

While there is a good story doled out over the course of this gloomy and atmospheric film, the focus is undoubtedly the struggle of the main character and Christian Bale provides a grimacing, convincing performance. The power of the human mind to hold us to account regarding our instilled values makes for a strong underlying theme. Just as it's hard to draw a perfectly straight line from motivating factors that guide our thoughts and actions, so too the consequences of a fleeting few moments can be taken care of in ways we might never fully understand.

Released: 2004

Director: Brad Anderson

Game Over



Another English Premier League season has come to an end.

Without participating in the www.premierleague.com fantasy football league, I can't say that I would pay a whole lot of attention to the games. By taking part it adds a whole new edge to watching and following the league. It's like having a small wager on each week's slate of games. Through being involved in the fantasy league I have become much more knowledgeable about the game, the teams and the players involved.

I improved considerably this time around, finishing 5, 245 out of 472, 148 as compared to last season when I was in the 13, 000 range out of about 300, 000 players. However, the overall number of team managers deserves a huge qualifier. If I remember correctly, only about 250 to 280, 000 managers were signed on from week 1 this season. Of those it's impossible to say how many joined for a lark and then never paid any more attention throughout the season, essentially voiding their team as a serious contender.

I'm guessing that probably a solid 100, 000 participants in the fantasy league were serious about playing and religiously made changes and tried to attain the highest scores possible.

Despite my fairly good finish this season I only managed to take second in the main league in which I took part (all players are ranked against all other players but you form separate smaller private leagues to keep things manageable with friends, co-workers etc.)

I had been leading in the private league for the past few weeks. However, a series of transfers I made for week 37, (which featured numerous teams with double fixtures) though paying modest gains, ended up costing me in the end. 2 players I had on my squad because of that important week 37, Reyes of Arsenal and Scholes of Manchester United, didn't play in this last week and lost me the top spot by 3 points.

A very enjoyable and free bit of strategizing that adds some excitement to every weekend's schedule of games. It will be kicking off again in a few months and as the time draws near I will set up another league and put out the call for participants. I still stand by the advice that I provided in this article that I wrote at the conclusion of last season's schedule, if anyone is interested.

Unfortunately the discussion forum after which I named the private league and from which I drew other managers has since turfed me so I will simply ask for anyone reading here to sign up as the time approaches.

Shit Wars: A Generation-Long Monumental Farce

An article that perfectly sums up my feelings regarding the over-hyped load of shit known as the Star Wars movies.

Thankfully I haven't partaken in watching these films since the first trilogy ended twenty or so years ago and I have no intention of doing so with this latest installment.

What an amazing phenomenon that has produced so many fawning aficionados and so many billions of dollars in profits all from such a mediocre body of work. I have a strong suspicion that even if I were to look back at the original, which of all of them has at least some merit, I would realize how average even that supposed classic was.

George Lucas has duped subsequent generations of gullible, non-questioning fucks who shell out for his latest Hollywood hype job because it's the thing to do. Even if people have a strong forewarning that what they are going to see is substandard crap they willingly go along for the ride.

I try to follow a strict code regarding movies I pay for, whether they're at the theatre or on DVD. If I haven't built up a sense that there's some entertainment value to be gained, usually through the word of reviewers or friends I trust, I simply won't waste the time.

The ongoing absurdity with the Star Wars franchise is perplexing simply because, as the writer of the article points out, save for the first movie, they have seen a sure and quick descent into utter shite. Yet these clowns suffering from arrested development go through this asinine charade every time a new serving of crap is dished up by the bearded, over-rated oaf Lucas.

It's the clinging to the spectacle aspect combined with being part of "something" and the romanticizing of the whole movie-going experience that drives these individuals. They keep the cachet alive of being part of a rabid core of super fans, through camp-outs to buy tickets, multiple viewings and obsessive collecting.

The "I don't get it aspect," that is always part of such movements as characterized by outsiders who scratch their heads at the excessive wackos, is guaranteed because of the uninspiring crap that is at the heart of their obsession.

Despite that, the myth of quality must be at least perpetuated to a degree by these clowns as each subsequent movie is watched by many millions. I'm hoping that this time people wise up and by their disinterest help turn this last load of tripe into the colossal flop it deserves to be.

Expectations

Taking a taxi in Bangkok can be a relaxing, almost surreal experience. Though on the front line when it comes to dealing with foreigners, as a group, taxi drivers are some of the worst English speakers about. However, only a modicum of Thai language is necessary to overcome the communication barrier and with directions delivered a peaceful ride is usually underway.

Most often, nary a word is spoken during the entire journey, nor is the silence interrupted as you pull up to your destination, hand the fare to the non-speaking driver and are on your way.

Unfortunately, if the driver does make attempts to converse, you can predict with remarkable accuracy the inanities that will flow.

"Where you from? You like Thai woman? You have Thai wife?"

If you answer in the affirmative, the shameless probing will continue...

"Where she from? Where you meet? You have baby?"

Sniggering, juvenile references regarding sex and the obligatory appearance of a fold-out brochure advertising some brothel are sure to follow. The outspoken type are invariably trolling for customers for such establishments, looking to earn some extra money on the side.

So it was recently that upon entering a cab I groaned to myself as the tell-tale signs were there. The rictus grin on the driver's face as he repeatedly looked at me in the rear-view mirror accompanied by those antsy mannerisms of someone ready to burst and the standard opening gambit..."Where you from?"

On cue, the talk proceeded to questions regarding my marital status and whether I had any children. Responding in the negative I then returned the question. The driver took the opening, a beatific grin on his face as he professed the love and joy that his 2 young children have provided.

His brief and genuine explanation on the pleasures of fatherhood in passable English was somehow interesting. From there:

"Where you go for Songkran?"

"Ahhh, I'll just stay at home this year."

"Why?"

"Mi mee ngen."

"I know that many foreigners also do not have big money. Same everywhere. Most people small money."

A bit of common sense from an unlikely source.

He went on to explain that he moonlights as a cab driver at weekends but spends his days in the military.

A first; a sane, enjoyable conversation with a Bangkok taxi driver.