subgenius gayest fucking dumbass movie I have ever seen review
Posted by:: Zapanaz
Date: Thu, 03 Mar 2005 23:05:16 -0800
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I just saw "The Terminal". that is the gayest dumbass movie I have
ever seen. Steven Spielberg should be shitfucked until he is dead.
This review should be written by Sterno, I can't even begin to do the
whole shiffuck the fucking shitfucker thing justice. God I am fucking
sick of steven spielberg. I am really irritable lately and I would
really like to just take a week off from my job and fly to california
and stalk steven spielberg and just punch the fuck out of his fucking
face until he pukes blood for being such a gayass shitfucking
dumb-movie-making fucker. I am tempted to just go out now and walk
down the street and punch somebody in the face because I could
probably never get to steven spielberg. I would like to just grab
steven spielberg by the ankles and bounce his head off the concrete
until his skull explodes for being such a shitty fucking gayass movie
director. The end. You should go see "The Terminal". nenslo would
probably love it.
--
Zapanaz
International Satanic Conspiracy
Customer Support Specialist
http://joecosby.com/
False Memories Do Not Exist!
Posted by:: Frere Jean Bleu
Date: Fri, 04 Mar 2005 21:17:35 +1100
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On Thu, 03 Mar 2005 23:05:16 -0800, Zapanaz
wrote:
>
>I just saw "The Terminal".
A sterno impersonation.
I actually saw the guy this was based on, last summer. He camps in the
bottom level of Charles de Gaulle #1 which is a really weird run-down,
skanky, circa 70's part of Paris airport. I was going to introduce
myself to him but decided not to after seeing him in the flesh....
deciding to go to the bar instead.
He's a homeless guy in an airport with a heap of crap around him.....
That's about it.
Fr J B
http://www.snopes.com/travel/airline/airport.htm
He could be any passenger waiting for a flight, sitting patiently
on a red plastic bench in Charles de Gaulle Airport's Terminal One,
luggage piled neatly by his side.
He sips a cup of hot chocolate and scans the crowd, occasionally
cocking his head to listen to the airport announcements. He peruses a
book, Hillary Rodham Clinton's "It Takes a Village."
But Merhan Karimi Nasseri is going nowhere. He has been waiting
for a flight out of France, he says, for 10 years.
Nasseri was expelled from Iran a decade ago for his political
views. Through a series of fateful missteps, he landed here without
any documents. Since then, Europe's increasingly stiff stance toward
refugees and his fragile mental state have kept him at the airport
here in legal limbo.
His is a story of broken hopes and bureaucracy, of a trip across
Europe in search of a homeland that became a journey into mental chaos
and despair. And it is a story of a man who has searched for his
family, only to find an adopted one here, at Charles de Gaulle.
"He's like a part of the airport. Everyone knows him," says
Muhamed Mourrid, the manager of the Bye Bye Bar, pointing to the spot
where Nasseri, 47, has lived for a decade. "That's his table, his
chair, his place." Adds Marise Petry, a Lufthansa clerk, "He's one of
us. We even get letters for him."
Among the annals of horrific refugee tales, Nasseri's story is
remarkable for its pathos and complexity. It begins in Iran in 1977,
when Nasseri, fresh from studying in England, was expelled for
protesting against the shah. His expulsion left him without a
passport.
Nasseri came to Europe. He bounced from capital to capital,
applying for refugee status and being refused, again and again, for
nearly four years. In 1981, his request for political asylum from Iran
was finally granted by the United Nations High Commission for Refugees
in Belgium.
That decision gave him refugee credentials, which in turn allowed
him to seek citizenship in a European country. The son of an Iranian
and a Briton, Nasseri decided in 1986 on England with the hope of
finding relatives there.
He got as far as Paris, where in 1988 his briefcase containing his
refugee documents was stolen in a train station.
Nasseri boarded a plane for London anyway. But when officials at
Heathrow Airport found he had no passport, they sent him back to
Charles de Gaulle. At first, the French police arrested him for
illegal entry. But as Nasseri had no documents, there was no country
of origin to which he could be deported.
So he took up residence in Terminal One. From its circular
confines, he and his attorney, the Paris-based human rights lawyer
Christian Bourget, battled to define his status and send him to
London. In 1992, a French court finally ruled that Nasseri had entered
the airport legally as a refugee and could not be expelled from it.
But the court could not force the French government to allow him
out of the airport onto French soil. In fact, Bourget said, French
authorities refused to give Nasseri either a refugee or transit visa.
"It was pure bureaucracy," said the lawyer. French immigration
authorities have no comment on the case.
Bourget and Nasseri then focused on Belgium, where they hoped to
reclaim Nasseri's original refugee documents. But Belgian refugee
officials refused to mail them to him in France. They argued that
Nasseri had to present himself in person so that they could be sure he
was the same man to whom they had granted political asylum years
before.
But, inexplicably, the Belgian government refused at that point to
allow Nasseri to return there. And under Belgian law, a refugee who
voluntarily leaves a country that has accepted him cannot return.
In 1995, the Belgian government finally told Nasseri that he could
retrieve his refugee documents if he agreed to live in Belgium under
the supervision of a social worker. Nasseri refused. He said he would
move only to Great Britain.
And so here he has remained, year after year. At first glance, the
dignified man does not appear to be a refugee who sleeps on an airport
bench because he has nowhere else to go. His clothes are clean, his
moustache well-trimmed. He keeps his one blazer covered with plastic
wrap, hanging from an airport cart. His belongings are carefully
packed in a frayed suitcase and a stack of Lufthansa boxes.
Nasseri nods hello to a clerk, who calls him "Alfred," his
nickname here. He follows the news closely, thanks to the most recent
Time magazine, which the postman has just dropped off. And he loves to
discuss the new selections from the Book-of-the-Month Club. "I just
keep on reading, every day," said the soft-spoken Nasseri, a courtly
gentleman who rises and offers his seat to a visitor. "I just keep
waiting here."
His pallid complexion is testament to his inability to cross the
airport threshold to the outside world. He walks to the doors of
Terminal One and absorbs fresh air as they swing open. But he never
steps outside. His hollow cheeks and thin frame show the limits of the
generosity of airport staff and strangers to help with his meals.
Nasseri's confused account of his plight speaks to the
psychological price he has paid in his fight to become a man who
belongs somewhere. "Nobody could suffer all he did and stay normal,"
noted Bourget.
The sad truth is this: After fighting for years to leave the
airport and apply for citizenship elsewhere, Nasseri was afraid to do
so when the opportunity arose. Belgium offered Nasseri the chance to
settle there, but he refused. "Now, I think he will stay in the
airport until he dies," Bourget concluded softly.
His bizarre tale has brought him a degree of fame. He has been the
subject of news reports from Finland to Britain. His life story became
a 1994 French film, starring Jean Rochefort.
Nasseri gets fewer visitors now to punctuate the long days down on
Terminal One's boutique level, ringed with stores and small cafes. But
he still has a following who help clothe and feed him and lift his
spirits. "He does no harm to anyone," said Papa Starr, manager of the
Les Palmes restaurant. "Everyone cares for him here."
Several times a week, the airport priest stops by to visit him, as
does Dr. Phillipe Bargain, the airport doctor. Many staff regularly
visit him at his table for a cup of coffee and a chat. "I get lots of
cards at Christmas," he said. "I call it my American Christmas."
His life follows the quotidian airport cycle. He wakes at 5:30 in
order to shave in the men's room before passengers arrive. He reads
all day long. At night, he waits until the airport stores are locked
before he brushes his teeth with the toothbrush and toothpaste from a
complimentary airline travel kit. Weekly, he rinses out his clothes
overnight in the bathroom.
Nasseri is renowned throughout the airport for his refusal to ask
for help. "We have a colleague who gave him clothes, but he returned
them, saying 'I'm not a beggar,'" said Crystelle L'Hospitalier, a
Lufthansa clerk. But he has to eat, and accepts occasional meal
vouchers and francs from stewardesses and airport staff.
As the years have slipped by, it has become increasingly clear
that Nasseri will never leave Charles de Gaulle. His airport years
have made him "crazier by the day," on the topic of his future, said
airport doctor Bargain. When he talks about flying to London, the
staff here greet him with understanding smiles.
"An airport is kind of a place between heaven and earth," said
Danielle Yzerman, spokeswoman for Charles de Gaulle. "He has found a
home here."1
Nasseri, who has since adopted the name "Sir, Alfred Merhan" (that's
not a typo — Nasseri took both the title and its misplaced comma from
a mistake in a letter from British immigration), has changed the story
he tells about his background several times over the years:
Over the years, he has claimed many things about his origins. At
one time his mother was Swedish, another time English. Nasseri's
effectively reinvented himself in the Charles de Gaulle airport and
denies these days that he's Iranian, deflecting any conversation about
his childhood in Tehran. ("He pretends he doesn't speak Persian," his
longtime lawyer, Christian Bourguet, says. "He was interviewed by
Iranian journalists and made believe he didn't understand.") When we
first met two years ago, he insisted that the United Nations High
Commissioner for Refugees was attempting to locate his parents in
order to establish his identity. But a spokeswoman for the agency
dismissed the assertion as "pure folly."
Early on in his saga, Nasseri maintained that he was expelled from
his homeland for antigovernment activity in 1977. According to a
number of reports, Nasseri protested against the regime of Shah
Mohammed Reza Pahlevi while a student in England, and when he returned
to Iran, found himself imprisoned, and shortly thereafter exiled.
He bounced around Europe for a few years with temporary refugee
papers, alighting finally in Belgium, where he was awarded official
refugee status in 1981. He traveled to Britain and France without
difficulty until 1988, when he landed at Charles de Gaulle airport
after being denied entry into Britain, because, he contends, his
passport and refugee certificate were stolen in a mugging on a Paris
subway. Nasseri could not prove who he was, nor offer proof of his
refugee status. So he moved into the Zone d'attente, a holding area
for travelers without papers.
He stayed for days, then weeks — then months, then years. As his
bizarre odyssey stretched on, Bourguet, the noted French human rights
lawyer, took on the case, and the news media piled on. Articles
appeared around the world, and Nasseri became the subject of three
documentary films. (Oddly, apparently none of his friends or relatives
have attempted to contact him.)2
Nasseri is known for his honesty (when he isn't talking about himself)
and his refusal of charity. On two occasions he turned in billfolds
full of money that had been mislaid by passengers. Airline and airport
personnel push meal vouchers on him so he can eat. "French fries are
my favorite," he confides. "It's not a very healthy diet, but I get
enough."
On 17 September 1999, an international travel card and a French
residency permit were put into Nasseri's hands. With them, he's now
free to leave the airport, either to take up residency in France or to
fly to another country that will allow him entry. He refuses to sign
them, however, because they list his nationality as Iranian, and he
wants it listed as British. He remains at Charles de Gaulle airport,
using the excuse that he's determined to stick to this point rather
than face life outside the terminal:
[In 1999] he finally got permission to leave the airport — in
fact, he can now go wherever he likes in Europe. The problem is, he no
longer wants to.
"He is scared to leave this bubble world he has been living in,"
said Dr. Philippe Bargain, the airport's medical director. "Finally
getting the papers has been a huge shock to him, as if he was just
thrown from his horse. When you wait 11 years for something and
suddenly in a few minutes you sign some papers and it's done — imagine
what a shock that is."
"He will have to be weaned from the airport, like an addict
really." Dr. Bargain said. "Still, it does make you wonder what kind
of a society we live in that this can happen to a man."3
As of the summer of 2004, Nasseri is still living in the airport. He
does not lack for money — Dreamworks paid him a rumored $250,000 for
the rights to his story.
Posted by:: "Rev. Ivan Stang"
Date: Fri, 04 Mar 2005 09:51:04 -0500
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In article , Zapanaz wrote:
> I just saw "The Terminal". that is the gayest dumbass movie I have
> ever seen. Steven Spielberg should be shitfucked until he is dead.
> This review should be written by Sterno, I can't even begin to do the
> whole shiffuck the fucking shitfucker thing justice. God I am fucking
> sick of steven spielberg. I am really irritable lately and I would
> really like to just take a week off from my job and fly to california
> and stalk steven spielberg and just punch the fuck out of his fucking
> face until he pukes blood for being such a gayass shitfucking
> dumb-movie-making fucker. I am tempted to just go out now and walk
> down the street and punch somebody in the face because I could
> probably never get to steven spielberg. I would like to just grab
> steven spielberg by the ankles and bounce his head off the concrete
> until his skull explodes for being such a shitty fucking gayass movie
> director. The end. You should go see "The Terminal". nenslo would
> probably love it.
I watched an old Outer Limits show last night, "SECOND CHANCE," from
the 60s, and it too was really really stupid. So it isn't JUST
Spielberg.
--
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Posted by:: "Erb"
Date: 4 Mar 2005 11:26:18 -0800
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So, did you like the movie?
Posted by:: "Doktor Dark"
Date: 4 Mar 2005 12:35:15 -0800
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So, this movie sickens you? Then watch out: you have a Terminal illness.