(Usually, I prefer to post about born freaks in the appropriate category linked above, but this was just too precious to pass on. Talk about going the distance for beauty, and then totally derailing on the crazy train. Sizzling hot? Eh, not so much…)

from FoxNews:

Hang Mioku, 48, who started having plastic surgery when she was 28, was having trouble finding doctors to operate on her after her multitude of surgeries.

Some doctors suggested she seek psychiatric help.

But one doctor, who recently gave her silicone injections to the face, gave Mioku a syringe and silicone to take home with her. When the silicone ran out, Mioku started injecting herself with the cooking oil in order to fuel her addiction.

More from FoxNews | Telegraph.co.uk | Weird Asia News

Although my favorite Marilyn movie is Some Like It Hot (probably also my favorite Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon film), this early performance of hers (opposite the inimitable Richard Widmark) shows that she was more than just T&A in a tight skirt, though who could deny her overwhelming sex appeal. Where are there women like this left in the world? Eh, I know the answer. Don’t remind me. Anyhoo, check out the trailer and then rent the film. And if you really want the bug-eyed and slack-jaw effect, watch The Asphalt Jungle for her appearance in that one. Eye candy defined.

When the first installment of this series was released in the summer of 1981, I was on the cusp of becoming a teenager. I still had that glowing enthusiasm for movies in general, whether it was because movies might have been better then or maybe because we all tend to idealized the past in some way. For me, Raiders of the Lost Ark was (and still is!) the quintessential adventure flick, combining great characters, storyline, style and, of course, action. I even read the novelization soon after, not yet having one of those then-new gadgets in my home called a VCR. Short of buying a fedora and a whip, I was definitely hooked.

I’d been warned by a number of people prior to viewing Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull that I needed to put away all of that and judge the film on its own merit. Honestly, I don’t feel that is at all reasonable. Indiana Jones is an iconic figure and any motion picture bearing his name is going to be compared to its predecessors. So, what has transpired in Indy history will figure into my opinion, as it would with anyone of my generation who shared my interest in Indy films past.

Indy’s quest begins when an associate of his (John Hurt) is captured by the Soviets while looking for a lost artifact in Peru, purportedly connected to extraterrestrial activity — the Crystal Skull. Along for the ride is Mutt (Shia LaBeouf), a young wannabe James Dean whose interest in the quest includes finding his mother, who was also abducted by those scurvy Reds, led by Colonel Spalko (Cate Blanchett) — an intermittently effective female villain at best. Her valiant attempt reminded me that I’m not much for villains of the fairer sex as they often lack the forcefulness and, well, masculinity of traditional bad guys. Believe me, she’s no Toht or Mola Ram! I could probably use this point as a springboard to express my disgust for the feminization of pro-male character-driven movie franchises in general (James Bond comes to mind), but I’ll save that for another time.

One method of sequelmaking that can either make or break a movie involves the act of liberally borrowing elements from the previous films. And this one does that in spades. You’ll get a glimpse of the Ark, which won’t come as a surprise. The Dean of the school Indy teaches at comes off as a third-rate Marcus Brody (Denholm Elliot, chiefly from The Last Crusade). And, yes, there will be at least one snake in there, too. In fact, there are many predictable plot points throughout, making any sort of tension nearly impossible to either achieve or maintain. There are some great action scenes, but too often I was figuring out where everything was going far too soon. Except for Indy surviving a nuclear blast from inside a refrigerator. I don’t think most intelligent moviegoers could have imagined such plummeting depths of absurdity.

I’m also not sure if it was the direction (read: Spielberg) or simply the actor, but Harrison Ford was really phoning in his performance at times. He had his moments, but in between those rare glimpses, we get a few comedic moments of “stumbly old man” — because we must be reminded that he ain’t what he used to be, but he still has it in ‘em. We also get a noticeable absence of Indy’s trademark non-verbals that gave him some real character, especially facial expressions. Apparently, that also goes for some of his delivery, which was rather passionless in parts. And can someone fly to Skywalker Ranch and bitchslap writer George Lucas for having Indy say, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this”? Borrowing from the other Indy films is one thing, but must we endure the ham-handed referencing of Ford’s character in the Star Wars saga, too?

Overall, the performances vacillate in believability from beginning to end. And, yes, the plot goes in some truly improbable directions, marking this chapter in the Indiana Jones story as the most fantasy-filled of the lot. I could actually enjoy that deviation from reality if the whole thing didn’t feel so bloodless most of the time. I’ll say it, there was no magic there, no real emotional connection for me, unlike the other three films. And I really wanted there to be one. I also wanted there to be Nazis again, but I realize how redundant that might have been.

If I take away my childhood love of the series, forget everything this movie was founded upon, and judge it as a separate entity, it’s an occasionally effective action film with a few thrilling moments, but simply doesn’t stand out from other films in the modern genre. For the kids, it might serve as a decent popcorn movie with a mushy ending. As for me, I’ll be revisiting my DVD copies of the ’80s Indiana Jones movies very soon, so I can re-experience some real adventures.