Neil Raphan & Ken Opalsky

Yet another Blu rip-off, this time by Neil Raphan and Ken Opalsky.

There seems to be some controversy over who 'directed' this travesty.

Apparently it is definitely NOT TokyoPlastic.

So says 'FlyingGiraffe'. While denying Mr Plastic's involvement in this audio visual gang rape, Mr Giraffe also took the time to defend his right to plagiarise it should he wish to:

"Blu was offered the opportunity to direct the film before it was put out to pitch to other directors."

Interesting argument. Now consider this: 

Me and Blu are coming round your gaff later. We're going to stab you in the eyes with an assortment of increasingly thick frozen turds until you are blind. Then we're going to ram the very thickest one down your cock-end until it bursts like a fisted mouse.

OK? You cool with that?

Or you can do it yourself and we'll just watch. 

What's that?

You don't want anyone to ruin your eyeballs and genitals with ice-hard shit-chisels? They belong to you and it's your decision what happens to them?

Well we're going to do it whether you like it or not. 

And that's just tough shit. 

Or frozen shit to be exact. Although it does soften after it's been down your urethra for ten minutes or so.

Imbecile.

Copycunts Cuntdown

>>> THIS SPACE RESERVED FOR INEVITABLE RIP-OFF<<<

Tony Fiandaca and Paul Cummings - an apology

I accused Tony and Paul of plagiarising from 

PES's Human Skateboard ad for their 

GoGurt ad.

As it turns out, Tony vs. Paul - their stop-motion 

film that includes a short boarding sequence - 

was made was BEFORE PES made his film.

So I was wrong. Sorry Tony and Paul. 

Here, in chronological order of their creation,

is a bunch of stop-motion boarding/

surfing films.

First there was this (the whole film is great but 

forward to 4mins 18 for the relevant sequence..)

Then this.

Then this (Tony and Paul again). 

And finally...

Enoch Lam & Manuela Barbosa with David Frankham

Original by Michel Gondry. 

Rip-off by Enoch Lam and Manuela Barbosa at CHI, 

directed by David Frankham. 

 

This is classic advertising cuntery in full-effect. Enoch and

Manuela are the sort of fuck-boxes who think that

knowing who Michel Gondry is makes them 'creative'. 

But of course they are not. No more than poor  David 

is a 'director' because he's able to tell a camera 

operator where to point his camera.

 

The only consolation I can dredge from this toxic 

swamp of plagiarism is  a daydream in 

which Enoch, Manuela and David float across the 

rooftops of Soho in a bum-smoke powered hot air 

balloon, circle-jerking each other spastic as they 

congratulate themselves on having watched 

YouTube that week. 

Without warning, Michel Gondry swoops out of the

clouds atop a giant owl composed of discarded

coke-wrappers, outstretched crystalline talons 

shredding their balloon as it passes. Our three

hapless shit-burgers tumble to their deaths, 

and the last thing they see as the ground 

rushes up to meet them is a crowd joining hands

to create the outline of Gondry's mind-anus, 

gaping wide after it's merciless plundering.   

 

Cunts.