26 REDS & A BOTTLE OF WINE
Sometimes I doubt your commitment to Sparkle Motion
It's a lovely day here in NYC. Perfect weather for loafing.
From recent personal observation I would say that the number of people I would describe as ‘weird looking’ outnumber the number of people I would describe as ‘attractive’ by at least four to one. Read more!
From recent personal observation I would say that the number of people I would describe as ‘weird looking’ outnumber the number of people I would describe as ‘attractive’ by at least four to one. Read more!
Skittlepuppy has taken a break from stuffing her face full of pixie sticks long enough to post a virtual tour of the Lemonheads factory on her new candy blog. Read more!
First off I think the characterization of darwinulids as "shrimp-like' is a major insult to shrimp everywhere.
So these gross things don't have sex, which is good cause then you don't have to imagine them having sex. The female produces eggs which do not need to be fertilized by sperm, which is good cause them you don't have to imagine their sperm. The evolutionary upshot is that there hasn't been a male darwinulids in 200 million years or so. That's right, sisters are doing it for themselves.
Of course now it seems possible that scientists were just flat out lazy when they made those claims. Three males were recently discovered among hundreds of females. Scientists aren't sure if they serve any sexual function, which is a cold-blooded why of saying their pussies and couldn't get no ass in a ass factory.
The human equivalent is that one guy in college who walked around campus hanging out with five girls with that stupid smirk on his face thinking to himself: "I'm hanging out with five chicks, there's no way I'm not getting laid". That guy never got laid either. Read more!
The last two days have brought two unrelated stories that have demonstrated the shear number of lonely retards with nothing to do but fact check the internet.
First came the story about Howard Kaloogian, a Republican running to replace disgraced Congressman and three time obnoxious bribe-taker winner Duke Cunningham. Mr. Kaloogian, not only has the silliest name in professional politics he also doesn’t like the way the media has been presenting the war. Plan A was to travel to Iraq, meet both American command forces, Iraqi security personal and members of the government in a hope of spread the word about our wonderful reconstruction efforts but that would, you know, involve dying.
Plan B was to post this photo on his website. Mr. Kaloogian writes: “We took this photo of downtown Baghdad while we were in Iraq, Iraq (including Baghdad) is much more calm and stable than what many people believe it to be. But, each day the news media finds any violence occurring in the country and screams and shouts about it - in part because many journalists are opposed to the U.S. effort to fight terrorism." Seems fine to me, no one running, nothing on fire. Looks like you average city. That’s the problem, it is just an average city… in Turkey… called Istanbul. In less than a day Jem6X on DailyKos.com was reporting the fake.
The second story broke over today. This morning I read an odd story which claimed that due to cabin pressures on parabolic flights women with breast implants were barred from flying on Virgin Galatic into the upper atmosphere. I didn’t think much of it, it’s not the sort of lowbrow story we follow here at 26 Reds. But just tonight, rechecking the corners of the World Wide Intraweb I found this. A debunking of the Virgin story.
That by my count is two internet myths debunked in less than 24 hours in two days. Read more!
First came the story about Howard Kaloogian, a Republican running to replace disgraced Congressman and three time obnoxious bribe-taker winner Duke Cunningham. Mr. Kaloogian, not only has the silliest name in professional politics he also doesn’t like the way the media has been presenting the war. Plan A was to travel to Iraq, meet both American command forces, Iraqi security personal and members of the government in a hope of spread the word about our wonderful reconstruction efforts but that would, you know, involve dying.
Plan B was to post this photo on his website. Mr. Kaloogian writes: “We took this photo of downtown Baghdad while we were in Iraq, Iraq (including Baghdad) is much more calm and stable than what many people believe it to be. But, each day the news media finds any violence occurring in the country and screams and shouts about it - in part because many journalists are opposed to the U.S. effort to fight terrorism." Seems fine to me, no one running, nothing on fire. Looks like you average city. That’s the problem, it is just an average city… in Turkey… called Istanbul. In less than a day Jem6X on DailyKos.com was reporting the fake.The second story broke over today. This morning I read an odd story which claimed that due to cabin pressures on parabolic flights women with breast implants were barred from flying on Virgin Galatic into the upper atmosphere. I didn’t think much of it, it’s not the sort of lowbrow story we follow here at 26 Reds. But just tonight, rechecking the corners of the World Wide Intraweb I found this. A debunking of the Virgin story.
That by my count is two internet myths debunked in less than 24 hours in two days. Read more!
On this day in 1981 mental case and Jody Foster enthusiast John Hinckley Jr. showed President and jellybean portrait muse Ronald Reagan six bullets from the business end of a Rohm RG-14. Ronny never really got a good look but Press Sec. James Brady did. The President did catch a ricochet in the lung but reportedly wasn't sure he had been shot beause of all the pain he was in from being crashed by his security detail.
This may have been the worst attempt to get laid in human history but it did get his name out there and you have to be in it to win it as far as the ladies go. Any of you fine ladies looking for love and reach Johnny at Saint Elizabeth's Hospital in D.C.
Hinkley went to Highland Park High School is Dallas Texas. I lived near Highland Park, none of this surprises me.
On another note. By, you know, not dying Reagan became the first President elected on a year devisible by 20 to not die in office in 140 years.
1840 - William Henry Harrison, died of pneumonia in 1841
1860 - Abraham Lincoln, assassinated in 1865
1880 - James Garfield, assassinated in 1881
1900 - William McKinley, assassinated in 1901
1920 - Warren G. Harding, died of heart attack in 1923
1940 - Franklin D. Roosevelt, died of cerebral hemorrhage in 1945
1960 - John F. Kennedy, assassinated in 1963
Zachary Taylor was the only other President to die in office. He was elected in 1848 and died in 1850 of indigestion.
So Reagan was the first and George W. Bush, elected in 2000 is the second. But of course G.W.B. didn't win the popular vote so maybe he doesn't count. His term doesn't end until January 20, 2009. Read more!
By now Floyd is soaking up the rays in beautiful downtown San Diego. And no, I don't miss him.
He snores, he smells bad and he's rude.
I wonder what he's doing right now. Read more!
I got it out of the way early this year. I just literally helped an old lady cross the street.
I was just walking to my local over-priced gourmet grocery store when I noticed her wobbling out of a Chinese take out place with a tiny brown paper bag tucked under her arm. Let me take this moment to say that she is a million years old. I’m not having a laugh and I’m not making fun. She looks as if she could have been widowed by The War of 1812. My first thought was “This woman is going to fall and if I see it it’s going to fuck with me for weeks.” Yet despite that I couldn’t look away as she slowly walked towards me like a drunk guy on a sailboat during a storm. When she was a foot or two from me she had a moment of equilibrium loss over a bit of cracked up sidewalk. I motioned towards her but she was already upright. “Can I help you across?”
“Would you?” She asked as if I had a choice.
So let me say that I know a lot of you have this idea in your head that really old people like to take things nice and slow. Why rush? Right? Wrong. No sooner does she get her hand tucked around mine than she pulling me out into traffic. Traffic that was racing by like it was the fifth leg of the Cannonball Run. “Lots of traffic”, she said, figuring I wasn’t interested in testing the ‘everyone stops for old ladies’ theory.
“Yeah, busy night.” Yet still she was pulling me. I could tell from the side street that the light was getting ready to change. “Almost,” I said but she didn’t really care, we were halfway into the first lane of Seventh Avenue, lucky blocked by an errand SUV, double-parked.
Then came the break and we were off. To her credit she walked at a pretty good clip. She had the self-reliance of the World War One generation. She’s been taking care of herself of forty years, and that includes making it across Seventh Avenue.
One the other side she thanked me and smiled and I watched her walk into The Vermeer building.
I don’t consider myself to be the “good Samaritan” type. I’m pragmatic about when and how I help people in distress. For example: On countless occasions I have stopped to help a lone woman carry her stroller and child up or down a flight of stairs. Typically the subway. I’m always amazed at the grown men who simply walk by figuring ‘she got herself into this mess, she’ll have to get herself out’.
On the other hand, on the few occasions that I’ve passed a cyclist who has been struck and downed by a motorist I have never stopped. My logic is as follows: I have never been the first person on such a scene. Typically I’m the fourth. By the time I arrive the person is either sitting or standing up, an ambulance has been called and the bicycle has been recovered. There is little to do beside get in the way. First on the scene? Sure, you can make sure he’s alive, able to talk and see, you can call for help, any number of useful things. Fourth on the scene? You’re job to get in the way and tell passers-by what you think happened. The fourth guy on the scene is the first person the medical technicians tell to give them some room and he’s the last person who does so. I choice to not be the fourth person.
So by this logic I was more than happy to help this lady across the street. But if I didn’t, and she fell I would have kept walking. It’s good to know where you stand. Or don’t stand. Read more!
I was just walking to my local over-priced gourmet grocery store when I noticed her wobbling out of a Chinese take out place with a tiny brown paper bag tucked under her arm. Let me take this moment to say that she is a million years old. I’m not having a laugh and I’m not making fun. She looks as if she could have been widowed by The War of 1812. My first thought was “This woman is going to fall and if I see it it’s going to fuck with me for weeks.” Yet despite that I couldn’t look away as she slowly walked towards me like a drunk guy on a sailboat during a storm. When she was a foot or two from me she had a moment of equilibrium loss over a bit of cracked up sidewalk. I motioned towards her but she was already upright. “Can I help you across?”
“Would you?” She asked as if I had a choice.
So let me say that I know a lot of you have this idea in your head that really old people like to take things nice and slow. Why rush? Right? Wrong. No sooner does she get her hand tucked around mine than she pulling me out into traffic. Traffic that was racing by like it was the fifth leg of the Cannonball Run. “Lots of traffic”, she said, figuring I wasn’t interested in testing the ‘everyone stops for old ladies’ theory.
“Yeah, busy night.” Yet still she was pulling me. I could tell from the side street that the light was getting ready to change. “Almost,” I said but she didn’t really care, we were halfway into the first lane of Seventh Avenue, lucky blocked by an errand SUV, double-parked.
Then came the break and we were off. To her credit she walked at a pretty good clip. She had the self-reliance of the World War One generation. She’s been taking care of herself of forty years, and that includes making it across Seventh Avenue.
One the other side she thanked me and smiled and I watched her walk into The Vermeer building.
I don’t consider myself to be the “good Samaritan” type. I’m pragmatic about when and how I help people in distress. For example: On countless occasions I have stopped to help a lone woman carry her stroller and child up or down a flight of stairs. Typically the subway. I’m always amazed at the grown men who simply walk by figuring ‘she got herself into this mess, she’ll have to get herself out’.
On the other hand, on the few occasions that I’ve passed a cyclist who has been struck and downed by a motorist I have never stopped. My logic is as follows: I have never been the first person on such a scene. Typically I’m the fourth. By the time I arrive the person is either sitting or standing up, an ambulance has been called and the bicycle has been recovered. There is little to do beside get in the way. First on the scene? Sure, you can make sure he’s alive, able to talk and see, you can call for help, any number of useful things. Fourth on the scene? You’re job to get in the way and tell passers-by what you think happened. The fourth guy on the scene is the first person the medical technicians tell to give them some room and he’s the last person who does so. I choice to not be the fourth person.
So by this logic I was more than happy to help this lady across the street. But if I didn’t, and she fell I would have kept walking. It’s good to know where you stand. Or don’t stand. Read more!
I'M NOT CALLING YOU A GRAPHIC DESIGN NERD, I'M CALLING YOU A NERD WHO LOVES GRAPHIC DESIGN
Written by J.R.Knight.
This tee shirt is perfect for just about everyone I know. It's a bit like the Highlander, there can be only one so you guys have to fight over it or learn to share Read more!
Skittlepuppy has a new blog dedicated to eating sugar. Candy-Striper. It goes straight into our wastoids section of the Blind Man's Parade Read more!
I've had a ton of fun writing this .... thing.... is this a blog? I don't even know.... for the past few months. It's proved both tedious and time consuming. Two of my favorite things.... Yet I would like to make an open appeal for more comments. (I mean in the comment section, not to my face, I want less of those) I think more comments might help keep me from doing something crazy like getting married and moving to Long Island (always in the cards)!
I'll start off the commenting thusly... Jesus was a nazi.... now, discuss.... Read more!
THE FROGS - It's Only Right Snd Natural
01: i've got drugs (out of the mist)
02: i don't care if u disrespect me (just so you love me)
03: hot cock annie
04: these are the finest queen boys (i've ever seen)
05: rosy jack world
06: someone's pinning me to the ground
07: baby greaser george
08: (thank god i died in) the car crash
09: gather 'round for savior #2
10: richard dick richards
11: men (come on men)
12: dykes are we
13: been a month since i had a man
14: homos
I’ve been thinking about writing about The Frogs for a while but I’m not sure what to say.
I guess I could say that The Frogs were originally two brothers: Jimmy and Dennis Flemion, from Milwaukee, who put together something like a band in 1980. In 1983 Jay Tiller join and the Frogs began a limited but interesting tour of the area immediately around Milwaukee. Like lots of idiots they recorded a multitude of home recordings, most if not all of which sound like shit. In 1989 they were able to release twelve tracks or previously recorded boomdoggery as It’s Only Right and Natural. Right after that they released an album of new material (how new is anyone’s guess) called Racially Yours, which featured one of the brother in white face, the other in blackface.
I could go on and on, mentioning the super underground (as in don’t bother looking for it, I’m the only person to have a copy) movie Toy Porno or any other bits of The Frogs info but let’s focus on It’s Only Right and Natural.
The title is a reference to homosexuality, an idea that drips like Santorum from every track on the album. “Being oiled down by furry young men/ I can’t remember when I was so hard” goes a lyrical exchange on Hot Cock Annie, a song about a hermaphrodite hooker. There is no mystery to The Frogs verse, take a look at that track list, any questions. Except of course that they aren’t gay. In fact they are married and straight. The endless multitude of gay references in The Frogs music (“No one knows a homo like us…. We love homos”) are only matched by their junior high school mentality. Childish to the point of pathetic. On a later album a song appears called “Grandma in the Corner With A Penis In Her Hand Screaming No, No, No, No, No”. In which those are the only lyrics.
It’s nearly impossible to explain The Frogs to your adult friends. You come off looking like an idiot at best. Yet it is also impossible to forget The Frogs or their influence. They can be heard on Beck’s track Where It’s At (the voice sample “That was a good drum break” is from a song called I Don’t Care If Your Love Me (Just So You Love Me) off It’s Only Right and Natural”)
Sure it’s more than possible to pass The Frogs off as a silly fad. A minor episode that has collected in the minds of music nerds. I would agree, they are silly and pointless and if you don’t get the joke, they are repugnant. But they are also real. Sometimes something is so pointless it reaches all the way around and smacks you in the face.
I have to thank Perfect Louis for introducing me to The Frogs. P.L.: That was a good drum break!! Read more!
This might be the hardest online game I've ever played. I dare you to not shoot the puppy. It's impossible. You're going to shoot the puppy. Read more!
On this day in 1917 General Sir Archibald Murray, commander of the Eastern Expeditionary Force lead a bold attack on the city of Gaza in an attempt to cut off 17,000 Turkish troops from their supplyline in Mesopotamia.
The plan was to use mounted troops to surround the city while the 53rd Division, led by 3 time Eastern Expeditionary Force cool name champion Major General A.G. Dallas, would bring the pain. Unfortunately for a few hundred British soldiers General Dallas had a bit of a freak-out and didn't attack for five hours.
The fighting lasted all afternoon and straight through suppertime. Slowly the British, with help from New Zealand and Australian forces (I mean, this was a WORLD war), were tightening the noose around the city of Gaza.
By late evening the British were a bit peckish and called the whole thing off, much to the surprise of the Turks who were left to wonder why they weren't all dead. When asked to explain this ridiculous decision making General Murray said something stupid about the horses being thirsty.
He tried to take Gaza again in April but the Turks were like: "Oh no, fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice..." Read more!
The plan was to use mounted troops to surround the city while the 53rd Division, led by 3 time Eastern Expeditionary Force cool name champion Major General A.G. Dallas, would bring the pain. Unfortunately for a few hundred British soldiers General Dallas had a bit of a freak-out and didn't attack for five hours.
The fighting lasted all afternoon and straight through suppertime. Slowly the British, with help from New Zealand and Australian forces (I mean, this was a WORLD war), were tightening the noose around the city of Gaza.
By late evening the British were a bit peckish and called the whole thing off, much to the surprise of the Turks who were left to wonder why they weren't all dead. When asked to explain this ridiculous decision making General Murray said something stupid about the horses being thirsty.
He tried to take Gaza again in April but the Turks were like: "Oh no, fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice..." Read more!
In the year 1300, on Holy Thursday, Dante Alighieri begins his decent into Hell. A social outing he later wrote as The Divine Comedy. Actually it's not very funny.
The illustration above show Dante holding a copy of Hell's visitor's guide standing at the Gates to Hell, later renamed Disney World. Nice tunic though. Read more!
My brother gets into town in the morning so I can't imagine there will be too much posting this weekend. Maybe a little. I promise to write soon Ta-Ta For Now! (Above is my favorite piece of graffiti, from Passerby) Read more!
Radio personality, Dave Lenihan made with the preverbal slip of the tongue this morning and called the Secretary of State a "big coon". Something he claimed was a slip of the tongue. You tell me:
Listen here from Crooks and Liars.
He was fired on the spot.
And Republicans wonder why they have such trouble rallying blacks to the GOP. Well, start by not using the word coon! Read more!
Bernard Lacoste, inheritor of the fashion company of the same name and lead it to become an international brand, died in Paris at age 74. Ironically, he was mauled to death by a tiger. Read more!
I've said nothing to date about the decision by the elected officials in South Dakota to spiral their state back to 1971. Mostly out of an overwhelming case of the I-told-you-sos. Also the shock, well, shock is a strong word, especial in consideration of a state which only had one planned parenthood office and only one doctor willing to perform abortions. And she was flown in once a week from another state.
Clearly this story ends next in five years in front of the Supreme Court in the meantime, as we all contemplate a move to Hong Kong enjoy these two items:
This one is sure to piss of the South Dakota State House.
This one is sure to make you smile. Read more!
[This came from Alex last week]
Here's a quick cambodia story:
I was at "the biggest dance party in cambodia" on serendipity beach
in sihnouk ville, which is only the biggest dance party in cambodia
if you don't count parties that have more then 5 khmer at them, when
I looked over at an australlian guy wearing a T-shirt that said
"I survived Cambodia" on the back. It didn't really sink in at first
but about an hour later I thought, "wait, what? You survived cambodia?
Like the killing fields and the land mines? or a bumpy bus ride and
hot weather?"
sihnouk ville is like thailand probably was about ten years ago, only
with crappier beaches. Lots of weird old lost in asia hippy/raver types.
I'm in siem reap now, heading for Bang-Cock tomorrow.
asjs Read more!
Here's a quick cambodia story:
I was at "the biggest dance party in cambodia" on serendipity beach
in sihnouk ville, which is only the biggest dance party in cambodia
if you don't count parties that have more then 5 khmer at them, when
I looked over at an australlian guy wearing a T-shirt that said
"I survived Cambodia" on the back. It didn't really sink in at first
but about an hour later I thought, "wait, what? You survived cambodia?
Like the killing fields and the land mines? or a bumpy bus ride and
hot weather?"
sihnouk ville is like thailand probably was about ten years ago, only
with crappier beaches. Lots of weird old lost in asia hippy/raver types.
I'm in siem reap now, heading for Bang-Cock tomorrow.
asjs Read more!
On this day in 1933 FDR signed into law a bill officially ending Prohibition.
Sounds like as good a reason as any to get drunk! Read more!
Sounds like as good a reason as any to get drunk! Read more!
Admit it, not in a million years did you think you'd see another Yes cover on this website. well, here it is, enjoy...
Red House Painters - Long Distance Runaround Read more!
Today in 1556 the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Crammer (shown left in his 'I'm not yet on on fire' days (aternative joke: shown here going as ZZ Top for Halloween)) was burned at the stake in Oxford England. His crime: loving too much.“Then was an iron chain tied about Cranmer and fire set unto him. When the wood was kindled and the fire began to burn near him, he stretched forth his right hand, which had signed his recantation, into the flames, and there held it so the people might see it burnt to a coal before his body was touched. In short, he was so patient and constant in the midst of his tortures, that he seemed to move no more than the stake to which he was bound; his eyes were lifted up to heaven, and often he said, so long as his voice would suffer him, “this unworthy right hand!” and often using the words of Stephen, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit,” till the fury of the flames putting him to silence, he gave up the ghost.”
-John Foxe, The Book of Act and Monuments (Book of Martyrs), 1563 Read more!
Not too long ago I posted my choice for ten films that they should have made sequels but didn’t. I mostly credited dim-witted studio types with tiny balls and little in the way of entrails for such implausible decision-making. Yet, from time to time, and for no particular reason, a film is sequeled in such a magnificent way and with such breath and beauty that if I were not to post about these modern masterpieces God himself would puke.
So here are the ten best sequels ever:
The Good, the Bad and The Ugly
Easily the greatest movie ever made. Okay, that’s a bit much but explain where else in the modern history of film someone looks as much a badass as Lee Van Cleef. Sure, John Ford made beautiful westerns that captured the very core of the American experience. But only the Italians understood why Gunsmoke was on TV for 20 years. Cause gun are made to go off and people are made to die. As far as Clint is concerned he’s never more on form. This guy wouldn’t bother taking a leak on Dirty Harry. After all Clint has the line “You see, in this world there's two kinds of people, my friend: Those with loaded guns and those who dig. You dig.” Brilliant!
Superman II
Superman is a piece of shit. But it’s a piece of shit on purpose. You have to explain that Superman is an alien and he works at a newspaper and that the slut down the hall doesn’t even know he’s alive and that Lex Luther is an asshole and that everyone loves Superman. If someone could have gotten all that on a poster we could have skipped the pleasant chit-chat and gotten right to General Zod tossing Superman around like a hobo and Ursa giving me a boner the size of Utah. Serious film scholars will point out the inevitable cliché of the superhero genre sequel. I will point out that ‘serious film scholar’ is an oxymoron and that all film critics and scholars can easily be filed under one category: useless jackass. Superman 2 has a number of endearing qualities: horrible special effects, statue-like acting, a villain clearly more powerful than the hero, pointless violence against people who live in New York City, Superman getting his ass handed to him by extra from a Jeff Foxworthy sitcom and of course Sarah Douglas as the villain Ursa, who single-handedly introduced me to the sick and twisted world of female domination. (Kidding) No seriously, it’s hard to watch a single scene with her and not want to turn out the lights.
Godfather 2
The Godfather is as close as you can get to perfect without drawing attention to yourself. Here is a movie that is basically avShakespeare play but with guns and Albert Brookes totally getting it. If you don’t love The Godfather you’re an asshole. Plain and simple. If you don’t love Godfather 2 it’s because you haven’t come to terms with being an asshole.
The Empire Strikes Back
Do I have to explain this? Can’t I just say that this is the only one of the six Star Wars films my children will be allowed to see? If they so much as see a trailer for Attack of The Clones or the fucking thing with the furry midgets I’ll commit an honor killing on my own children. I’ll do it… I’m not fucking around here!
Star Trek 2: The Wrath of Kahn
Okay, I’ll explain… First, they dug deep into the Star Trek vault and found a silly, rather forgetful episode fron the series and used it as the basis for the second Star Trek movie. That takes balls the size of the Nebulon Galaxy. But wait! The episode in question stars the dude from Fantasy Island… WHAT THE FUCK!?!? Brilliant. Fucking Genius. Not to mention it is actually the best of the six hundred Star Trek films that have been made to date. Pitching this movie, much less making it, took the kind of guts you find only on kamikaze pilots and Browns fans.
Gremlins 2: The New Batch
This IS a really great movie (not that the others aren’t), The original Gremlins was a brilliant mash between the schlock film ecstatic of the 1950s and the postmodern jadedness of the 1980s. It rode a perfect line between funny, scary, cute and clever. Few films have done it this well…. EVER! (I’m serious, if you haven’t seen Gremlins lately go check it out, it’s fucking brilliant) For the sequel they need to up the stakes. The final product was anything but a horror sequel by the numbers. Gremlins 2 is keenly aware of it’s own origins, willing to be both involved in it’s own story and aware of the audience’s expectations. It’s is the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle at work. Gremlins 2 existed because you saw Gremlins 1, had you not seen Gremlins 1 there could be no Gremlins 2.. I find it worthy of the following statement: Gremlins 2 is the most perfectly constructed and executed postmodern film in the history of cinema.
The Way of The Dragon
Some smartass is going to tell me that The Way of the Dragon is not really a sequel to Enter the Dragon, that it was only released as such in America. I’ll then remind that smartass that he’s in America and if he’s not he’ll be it Gitmo soon if he doesn’t knock off the horseshit. First off this movie has Chuck Norris in it… awesome. Second this is Bruce Lee at his most bad ass. Sure, he’s always an unstoppable killing machine, but here he the killer of unstoppable killing machines. Bruce Lee directed this film and it’s as if he always secretly thought his films were bullshit and he was REAL going to bring it in this one. In a rarely seen sequence that was cut from the American release Bruce Lee kicks the living hell out of Jesus Christ… It’s an amazing sequence.
Aliens
Sequels are already awesome when all they have to do is put an ‘s’ at the end, denoting that there will be multiples of whatever there was one of last time. In this case it’s multiples of badass. Aliens is like James Cameron was about to make Alien and Ridley Scott beat him to it. Instead of getting mad Cameron set out to make a much better version. He’s like “One alien? Fuck that! Give me the whole damn planet!” Aliens is like Alien with all the pretentious art house horror replaces with bullets.
Okay, out of a sense of tradition I’m going to end this top ten list at eight. If you don’t get the reference you should keep reading. Read more!
So here are the ten best sequels ever:
The Good, the Bad and The Ugly
Easily the greatest movie ever made. Okay, that’s a bit much but explain where else in the modern history of film someone looks as much a badass as Lee Van Cleef. Sure, John Ford made beautiful westerns that captured the very core of the American experience. But only the Italians understood why Gunsmoke was on TV for 20 years. Cause gun are made to go off and people are made to die. As far as Clint is concerned he’s never more on form. This guy wouldn’t bother taking a leak on Dirty Harry. After all Clint has the line “You see, in this world there's two kinds of people, my friend: Those with loaded guns and those who dig. You dig.” Brilliant!
Superman II
Superman is a piece of shit. But it’s a piece of shit on purpose. You have to explain that Superman is an alien and he works at a newspaper and that the slut down the hall doesn’t even know he’s alive and that Lex Luther is an asshole and that everyone loves Superman. If someone could have gotten all that on a poster we could have skipped the pleasant chit-chat and gotten right to General Zod tossing Superman around like a hobo and Ursa giving me a boner the size of Utah. Serious film scholars will point out the inevitable cliché of the superhero genre sequel. I will point out that ‘serious film scholar’ is an oxymoron and that all film critics and scholars can easily be filed under one category: useless jackass. Superman 2 has a number of endearing qualities: horrible special effects, statue-like acting, a villain clearly more powerful than the hero, pointless violence against people who live in New York City, Superman getting his ass handed to him by extra from a Jeff Foxworthy sitcom and of course Sarah Douglas as the villain Ursa, who single-handedly introduced me to the sick and twisted world of female domination. (Kidding) No seriously, it’s hard to watch a single scene with her and not want to turn out the lights.
Godfather 2
The Godfather is as close as you can get to perfect without drawing attention to yourself. Here is a movie that is basically avShakespeare play but with guns and Albert Brookes totally getting it. If you don’t love The Godfather you’re an asshole. Plain and simple. If you don’t love Godfather 2 it’s because you haven’t come to terms with being an asshole.
The Empire Strikes Back
Do I have to explain this? Can’t I just say that this is the only one of the six Star Wars films my children will be allowed to see? If they so much as see a trailer for Attack of The Clones or the fucking thing with the furry midgets I’ll commit an honor killing on my own children. I’ll do it… I’m not fucking around here!
Star Trek 2: The Wrath of Kahn
Okay, I’ll explain… First, they dug deep into the Star Trek vault and found a silly, rather forgetful episode fron the series and used it as the basis for the second Star Trek movie. That takes balls the size of the Nebulon Galaxy. But wait! The episode in question stars the dude from Fantasy Island… WHAT THE FUCK!?!? Brilliant. Fucking Genius. Not to mention it is actually the best of the six hundred Star Trek films that have been made to date. Pitching this movie, much less making it, took the kind of guts you find only on kamikaze pilots and Browns fans.
Gremlins 2: The New Batch
This IS a really great movie (not that the others aren’t), The original Gremlins was a brilliant mash between the schlock film ecstatic of the 1950s and the postmodern jadedness of the 1980s. It rode a perfect line between funny, scary, cute and clever. Few films have done it this well…. EVER! (I’m serious, if you haven’t seen Gremlins lately go check it out, it’s fucking brilliant) For the sequel they need to up the stakes. The final product was anything but a horror sequel by the numbers. Gremlins 2 is keenly aware of it’s own origins, willing to be both involved in it’s own story and aware of the audience’s expectations. It’s is the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle at work. Gremlins 2 existed because you saw Gremlins 1, had you not seen Gremlins 1 there could be no Gremlins 2.. I find it worthy of the following statement: Gremlins 2 is the most perfectly constructed and executed postmodern film in the history of cinema.
The Way of The Dragon
Some smartass is going to tell me that The Way of the Dragon is not really a sequel to Enter the Dragon, that it was only released as such in America. I’ll then remind that smartass that he’s in America and if he’s not he’ll be it Gitmo soon if he doesn’t knock off the horseshit. First off this movie has Chuck Norris in it… awesome. Second this is Bruce Lee at his most bad ass. Sure, he’s always an unstoppable killing machine, but here he the killer of unstoppable killing machines. Bruce Lee directed this film and it’s as if he always secretly thought his films were bullshit and he was REAL going to bring it in this one. In a rarely seen sequence that was cut from the American release Bruce Lee kicks the living hell out of Jesus Christ… It’s an amazing sequence.
Aliens
Sequels are already awesome when all they have to do is put an ‘s’ at the end, denoting that there will be multiples of whatever there was one of last time. In this case it’s multiples of badass. Aliens is like James Cameron was about to make Alien and Ridley Scott beat him to it. Instead of getting mad Cameron set out to make a much better version. He’s like “One alien? Fuck that! Give me the whole damn planet!” Aliens is like Alien with all the pretentious art house horror replaces with bullets.
Okay, out of a sense of tradition I’m going to end this top ten list at eight. If you don’t get the reference you should keep reading. Read more!
I hate writers. Maybe as much as I hate deejays and artists. Maybe. But tonight I might go down to Cakeshop to listen to silly little girls read from their new "magazine", Crier. They call it a small magazine of big ideas. I prefer to quote Homer Simpson: "They saw an overcrowded marketplace and said... 'me too'."
I think it's adorable that girls think they can publish a literary magazine.... just adorable...
Admission is 6 dollars, a fee I have no intention of paying.
Of course I'm just giving them a hard time...
just adorable... Read more!
I think it's adorable that girls think they can publish a literary magazine.... just adorable...
Admission is 6 dollars, a fee I have no intention of paying.
Of course I'm just giving them a hard time...
just adorable... Read more!
Take a look at the face of a pervert. If you see this man anywhere near your pets and/or livestock call the police.
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During what can only be described as an afternoon of drinking with Jesus, Leroy Donald Johnson, 52, a deputy fire chief in Mesa Arizona, went looking for love in all the wrong places. By wrong places I mean his neighbor’s barn and by looking for love I mean his neighbor’s sheep’s bathing suit area.
After his teenage daughter caught a curious glimpse of the neighbor dragging a young sheep into the barn the unnamed neighbor went to have a look.
It’s hard to know what to do when you find your neighbor in you barn stinking of booze. But when he’s also wearing his pants as ankle warmers and is dancing the horizontal mambo with your best sheep you’re really in uncharted waters. Freaking out doesn’t seem that bad an idea. Calling the police seems more reasonable.
Leroy “Pervie” Johnson (his fireman nickname) copped to it saying “You caught me… I tried to (expletive) your sheep”.
Well, we can (expletively) see that. Pull up your pants you (expletiving) pervert.
The Mesa fire department has put Johnson on paid leave until an investigation can be done. I’m not sure what the grounds are for firing him. I don’t think being a drunk pervert is a actionable offense. Not that I can imagine old Leroy is looking forward to that next shift at the house.
This is my favorite bit from the article:
‘"I think it's disgusting," Sheriff Joe Arpaio said. "I think of Gandhi who said you judge the morality of a country by the way they treat their animals. . . . I do look at (bestiality) as some type of animal cruelty."’
That Sheriff Joe Arpaio, setting the disgusting bar somewhere near drunkenly boning your neighbor’s sheep.
Well maybe, but if you ask me that sheep was asking for it… I mean, just look at the way she was dressed.
So, for setting the bar for beer goggles at a all time low, Leroy Johnson, soon to be ex-deputy fire chief of Mesa Arizona, you are the 26 Reds and a Bottle of Wine Person of the Week Read more!
An update on my Boing Boing post from earlier this week. Sens. Mark Pryor (D-Ark) and Max Baucus (D-Mont) are prepared to introduce a bill that would mandate all websites deemed pornographic to switch to a .xxx domain name. No word on how that would make it harder for kids to see tits.
I'm glad to see Republicans aren't the only one prepared to be censor happy moralist.
My big problem with this is the same as always. Who gets to do the deeming? Read more!
I'm glad to see Republicans aren't the only one prepared to be censor happy moralist.
My big problem with this is the same as always. Who gets to do the deeming? Read more!
It’s always difficult to hear bad things about your loved ones.
Imagine you were Hitler’s nephew. You’re Axel Hitler, you were born in Frankfurt in 1953 and you just found out way no one talks about your uncle. That’s gotta hit you like a ton of bricks and it’s going to make high school suck. There’s nothing to do but change your name to Boba Fett and say you’re adopted and your really father is James Bond.
Let’s reel it back a bit, make it more interesting. Sure, there are thousands of kids out there who’s father or mother is locked up. Many of them for doing pretty horrible things. But most of those kids are pretty horrible too and my whole point falls apart if for you getting locked up is “just something that happens”.
So let’s raise the stakes a little. Let’s say you’re the only daughter of a single mother and when you’re twelve your mom sits you down and tells you that your father is the head of the Gambino crime family and a murderer and in now living in a metal shoebox in Virginia. “The good news is your dad is very safe. The bad news is so are the guys who testified against him.” That’s an ‘ummm, okay…” moment if I ever heard one. I suppose if he was still the head of a major crime syndicate then it might be kind of cool. No one fucks with you and you get your trashed picked up everyday, fuck that twice a week bullshit. In the end however you gotta sit yourself down and decide how comfortable you are with that legacy.
When I was in the seventh grade there was a girl in my school whose father was sentenced to 50 years to life in prison along with John Gotti’s brother and two other co-defendants. After the shock and the self-piety there has got to be a moment where you own it. You either say “Those bastards took my daddy from me and I’ll never forgive them for it.” Or “You play you pay. My dad knew the risks and he gambled and lost.” Sometimes I wonder about that girl. Where she is and how she ended up dealing with it. Here I am, seven or eight little lifetimes later and he’s still sitting in Dannemora playing pinochle with the son of Sam.
My grandfather was a great guy. Whatever his problems were I was unaware of them. Whatever his faults, he never showed them to me. All I know is that when he took the family to the Villa Roma over winter vacation he always tipped the staff well. He always tipped everyone. My Grandfather was a great tipper. Read more!
Imagine you were Hitler’s nephew. You’re Axel Hitler, you were born in Frankfurt in 1953 and you just found out way no one talks about your uncle. That’s gotta hit you like a ton of bricks and it’s going to make high school suck. There’s nothing to do but change your name to Boba Fett and say you’re adopted and your really father is James Bond.
Let’s reel it back a bit, make it more interesting. Sure, there are thousands of kids out there who’s father or mother is locked up. Many of them for doing pretty horrible things. But most of those kids are pretty horrible too and my whole point falls apart if for you getting locked up is “just something that happens”.
So let’s raise the stakes a little. Let’s say you’re the only daughter of a single mother and when you’re twelve your mom sits you down and tells you that your father is the head of the Gambino crime family and a murderer and in now living in a metal shoebox in Virginia. “The good news is your dad is very safe. The bad news is so are the guys who testified against him.” That’s an ‘ummm, okay…” moment if I ever heard one. I suppose if he was still the head of a major crime syndicate then it might be kind of cool. No one fucks with you and you get your trashed picked up everyday, fuck that twice a week bullshit. In the end however you gotta sit yourself down and decide how comfortable you are with that legacy.
When I was in the seventh grade there was a girl in my school whose father was sentenced to 50 years to life in prison along with John Gotti’s brother and two other co-defendants. After the shock and the self-piety there has got to be a moment where you own it. You either say “Those bastards took my daddy from me and I’ll never forgive them for it.” Or “You play you pay. My dad knew the risks and he gambled and lost.” Sometimes I wonder about that girl. Where she is and how she ended up dealing with it. Here I am, seven or eight little lifetimes later and he’s still sitting in Dannemora playing pinochle with the son of Sam.
My grandfather was a great guy. Whatever his problems were I was unaware of them. Whatever his faults, he never showed them to me. All I know is that when he took the family to the Villa Roma over winter vacation he always tipped the staff well. He always tipped everyone. My Grandfather was a great tipper. Read more!
I don’t usually post personal stuff on this blog but I have to admit that I am pretty excited about Skittlepuppy’s birthday on Saturday. For reasons largely out of my control I haven’t really been able to see much of her lately. Not since the unpleasantness at the Belle and Sebastian concert.
Anyway, I'm excited not just because it provides an opportunity to bask in all things cute and cuddlely but also because it’s my half-birthday. The half-birthday is a brilliant idea who’s time has come.
For most people your birthday is a wonderful time of the year and an opportunity to be lavished with gifts and free booze. It's a great time for everyone, for everyone except of course those of you who over think even the tiniest details and for whom ordering pizza toppings become a delicate game of chess. For those people every birthday is met with a personal reexamination of their lives, an intense vision quest. Those people suck balls.
For the rest of us it’s the time of year that most reminds us of presents and cake and soda. Unless you’re a Jehovah’s Witness or you parents were crackheads you were treated to birthdays of extraordinary pomp and fanfare. Every stably raise child (and most of the unstably raise ones) has had at least one blow-out birthday. As a result you’ve developed a Pavlovian response to that portion of the calendar. It’s the same thing with summer. We’re trained to take summers off, so we do.
Anyway, my theory is that one birthday is not enough. Sure, it might be fine for the egghead intellectuals, or Christian fucking conservatives but for leisure class citizens like us it’s simply too little birthday. Some of my more Philistinic friends have suggested choosing your own birthday and calling it second birthday or unbirthday. First I explain that unbirthday is a rip-off of Lewis Carroll and second that it totally violates the first rule of your birthday; YOU DON’T PICK IT! Besides if everyone got to pick their own birthday half the population would pick Memorial Day, the other half would pick Labor Day.
So that’s out.
Thinking about it with any seriousness, and not being a retard, leads to only one conclusion; The Half Birthday. The day six months from your birthday. First, this lets you keep the day, mine is the 18th. This is good for those fruity palm-reading beatniks, and let’s be frank, we need them if half birthday is going to catch on. It’s also a windfall for the economy. Think about it. Thousands of people running like loons through the streets buying up half birthday cakes and half birthday presents. Fucking idiots!
So how do we pitch the half birthday? Well, that seems clear. Hallmark. If there’s a greeting card for it then it must be a real event. Look at Secretary’s Day and Father’s Day and Chanukah. So0 let’s start a grassroot campaign to get Hallmark to start making Half Birthday cards…
Any seconds on that? Read more!
Anyway, I'm excited not just because it provides an opportunity to bask in all things cute and cuddlely but also because it’s my half-birthday. The half-birthday is a brilliant idea who’s time has come.
For most people your birthday is a wonderful time of the year and an opportunity to be lavished with gifts and free booze. It's a great time for everyone, for everyone except of course those of you who over think even the tiniest details and for whom ordering pizza toppings become a delicate game of chess. For those people every birthday is met with a personal reexamination of their lives, an intense vision quest. Those people suck balls.
For the rest of us it’s the time of year that most reminds us of presents and cake and soda. Unless you’re a Jehovah’s Witness or you parents were crackheads you were treated to birthdays of extraordinary pomp and fanfare. Every stably raise child (and most of the unstably raise ones) has had at least one blow-out birthday. As a result you’ve developed a Pavlovian response to that portion of the calendar. It’s the same thing with summer. We’re trained to take summers off, so we do.
Anyway, my theory is that one birthday is not enough. Sure, it might be fine for the egghead intellectuals, or Christian fucking conservatives but for leisure class citizens like us it’s simply too little birthday. Some of my more Philistinic friends have suggested choosing your own birthday and calling it second birthday or unbirthday. First I explain that unbirthday is a rip-off of Lewis Carroll and second that it totally violates the first rule of your birthday; YOU DON’T PICK IT! Besides if everyone got to pick their own birthday half the population would pick Memorial Day, the other half would pick Labor Day.
So that’s out.
Thinking about it with any seriousness, and not being a retard, leads to only one conclusion; The Half Birthday. The day six months from your birthday. First, this lets you keep the day, mine is the 18th. This is good for those fruity palm-reading beatniks, and let’s be frank, we need them if half birthday is going to catch on. It’s also a windfall for the economy. Think about it. Thousands of people running like loons through the streets buying up half birthday cakes and half birthday presents. Fucking idiots!
So how do we pitch the half birthday? Well, that seems clear. Hallmark. If there’s a greeting card for it then it must be a real event. Look at Secretary’s Day and Father’s Day and Chanukah. So0 let’s start a grassroot campaign to get Hallmark to start making Half Birthday cards…
Any seconds on that? Read more!
I've been listening to this song for a while now and lamenting the fact that The 1900s first EP isn't going to be released until May 30th, which is like a BILLION YEAR FROM NOW!!!!
In the meantime enjoy this. It makes me want to be a better person.
The 1900s - Bring The Good Boys Home
The Mp3 is from Gorilla Vs. Bear. Awesome site. The link in the Blind Man's Parade under music. Read more!
"From a distance, you could mistake the sound for just another nighttime drag race. But, then, if you're close enough to hear it at all, you might as well move in and see what the shouting's about... Butch Berman is stitching together guitar leads in the style of a sewing machine gone manic, while the writhing dancers do their best imitation of the Poseidon disembarkation."
-Bart Becker, Lincoln Journal, March 31, 1977
At some point I'm going to write a long and confusing diatribe on garage rock and the history of rock and roll. That point is not now. Now is the point where I go eat tacos. But before I do enjoy this.
Charlie Burton and Rock Therapy - Guitar Case (Wild Records, 1977)
Dolled Up Cutie 4:05
Guitar Case 3:13
Even as We Speak 2:45
Breathe For Me Presley 2:21
50/50 3:23
unknown title 2:20
Love or What 1:50
Cow Cow Yippy Yippy Yeah 3:42
2 Packs a Day 2:44
Rabies Shot 3:46
Garage Sale 1:56
Something Fierce 2:25
Rock and Roll Behavior 3:00
This record is nearly impossible to find a stitch of information about. Burton has the kind of wild brash style that you would associate with 1977 but with a twang that is definitely not coastal. Sounding closer to The Seeds than to any of his counterparts in New York, Burton sounds like he's grown up in a bubble. A beautiful bubble in the middle of nowhere. Having said that, he shares beats and cords with The Undertones and The Members (Breathe for me Presley sounds just like Pretty Vacant by The Sex Pistols). When this record is at it's best it's all amplifiers and sweat and rock and roll. NOBODY does this shit anymore!! Read more!
-Bart Becker, Lincoln Journal, March 31, 1977
At some point I'm going to write a long and confusing diatribe on garage rock and the history of rock and roll. That point is not now. Now is the point where I go eat tacos. But before I do enjoy this.
Charlie Burton and Rock Therapy - Guitar Case (Wild Records, 1977)
Dolled Up Cutie 4:05
Guitar Case 3:13
Even as We Speak 2:45
Breathe For Me Presley 2:21
50/50 3:23
unknown title 2:20
Love or What 1:50
Cow Cow Yippy Yippy Yeah 3:42
2 Packs a Day 2:44
Rabies Shot 3:46
Garage Sale 1:56
Something Fierce 2:25
Rock and Roll Behavior 3:00
This record is nearly impossible to find a stitch of information about. Burton has the kind of wild brash style that you would associate with 1977 but with a twang that is definitely not coastal. Sounding closer to The Seeds than to any of his counterparts in New York, Burton sounds like he's grown up in a bubble. A beautiful bubble in the middle of nowhere. Having said that, he shares beats and cords with The Undertones and The Members (Breathe for me Presley sounds just like Pretty Vacant by The Sex Pistols). When this record is at it's best it's all amplifiers and sweat and rock and roll. NOBODY does this shit anymore!! Read more!
1) Princess Diana
I was in the student lounge of Leo J. Pantas Hall at Pratt Institute hitting on a freshman when someone, I don’t remember who, came in and told everyone about what happened. We were drunk as fuck and I remember everyone being freaked out but I was like: “Whatever! I’m trying to get some ass here!”
2) Kurt Cobain
I was a freshman at Pratt and I was sitting in the film department’s equipment office when someone who worked there, an upper classmen made a joke about suicide and Kurt and I remember saying to myself “That joke doesn’t even make any sense, Kurt Cobain isn’t dead.” He was.
3) Jam Master Jay
For some reason I remember that it was close to Halloween and I was Djing at Passerby when some random guy came up and said “Did you hear that Jam Master Jay just got killed?” Naturally I assumed he was being a drunk asshole but I played a whole bunch of Run DMC songs just in case.
4) Hunter S. Thompson
How’s this for tying thing together? I met Hunter S. Thompson on Halloween night the year Princess Diana died. I am a meta God!!! No but I did. It was at a Barnes and Noble at Union Square. Benico Del Toro was there and Hunter introduced him to me as his punch-man. “This is Benico, my punch-man.” I was drunk so I just nodded. Anyway, I read this one on CNN.com.
5) Rick James
Don’t really remember. Must have read it online but I remember not being that surprised. Usually when someone dies, even someone very old, you think: “I haven’t heard that name in a long time. How random.” As if God was up there going. “Shelly Winters! I haven’t seen her in years. Is she still alive? Let’s kill her.”
6) William Burroughs
Like lots of people who fancy themselves a writer I went through a period of intense interest in the beats. Burroughs in particular. It’s a little like being into The Doors or Bob Dylan. It’s a little obvious. Maybe not but it seems that way to me now. Anyway he died at the high point of my interest in him. This was in 98 I think and I was at my mother’s house on Long Island. I was sitting at the dining room table writing one of those overwrought journals people write in their early twenties. NPR was on and during a break in All Things Considered the local newscaster started with “William Burroughs, author of Naked Lunch…” and I thought “Shit, guess he’s dead too.” I still like Burroughs but I think he’s sort of full of shit.
7) Elliott Smith
I read this on Tiny Mix Tapes about ten minutes before I had to go deejay. I was never obsessed with Smith but his suicide hit me as a sort of horrible inevitability. I was overcome by notions of fate and unavoidable destiny. Maybe the quantum physicists are right. Maybe there is no free choice. Maybe we are all trains on a track, unable to change our destinations. It was very sad for me. I played either the worst of the best set of my life, depending on whom you ask.
8) John Belushi
I am about three weeks older than Saturday Night Live. It’s a fact that will haunt me on the show’s 50 anniversary in 2025. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I was a fame on the show from as early as I can remember, in particular a Belushi fan. There was something insanely childish about him. I remember watching the blues brothers and thinking: “This guy is hilarious.” I never had that reaction to Dan Ackroyd, who I will think is a bit of a pencilneck. I was at home and heard it on the radio. I was sort of walking around the house aimlessly, I think it was a Saturday. I remember having a sudden and unexplainable rush of fear and panic. It’s a feeling I still get. Like when I listen to The White Album and think about the Manson murders.
9) John Lennon
I don’t remember hearing about it at the time. I was a massive Beatles fan at the age of 5 (I had a strange affinity for Revolver) so I think my parents tried to keep this from me. I think my reaction upon learning about this was “Really? When? Really? Are you sure?”
10) Abraham Lincoln
President Lincoln died 110 years before I was born so I’m guessing I heard about this one in history class. Read more!
I was in the student lounge of Leo J. Pantas Hall at Pratt Institute hitting on a freshman when someone, I don’t remember who, came in and told everyone about what happened. We were drunk as fuck and I remember everyone being freaked out but I was like: “Whatever! I’m trying to get some ass here!”
2) Kurt Cobain
I was a freshman at Pratt and I was sitting in the film department’s equipment office when someone who worked there, an upper classmen made a joke about suicide and Kurt and I remember saying to myself “That joke doesn’t even make any sense, Kurt Cobain isn’t dead.” He was.
3) Jam Master Jay
For some reason I remember that it was close to Halloween and I was Djing at Passerby when some random guy came up and said “Did you hear that Jam Master Jay just got killed?” Naturally I assumed he was being a drunk asshole but I played a whole bunch of Run DMC songs just in case.
4) Hunter S. Thompson
How’s this for tying thing together? I met Hunter S. Thompson on Halloween night the year Princess Diana died. I am a meta God!!! No but I did. It was at a Barnes and Noble at Union Square. Benico Del Toro was there and Hunter introduced him to me as his punch-man. “This is Benico, my punch-man.” I was drunk so I just nodded. Anyway, I read this one on CNN.com.
5) Rick James
Don’t really remember. Must have read it online but I remember not being that surprised. Usually when someone dies, even someone very old, you think: “I haven’t heard that name in a long time. How random.” As if God was up there going. “Shelly Winters! I haven’t seen her in years. Is she still alive? Let’s kill her.”
6) William Burroughs
Like lots of people who fancy themselves a writer I went through a period of intense interest in the beats. Burroughs in particular. It’s a little like being into The Doors or Bob Dylan. It’s a little obvious. Maybe not but it seems that way to me now. Anyway he died at the high point of my interest in him. This was in 98 I think and I was at my mother’s house on Long Island. I was sitting at the dining room table writing one of those overwrought journals people write in their early twenties. NPR was on and during a break in All Things Considered the local newscaster started with “William Burroughs, author of Naked Lunch…” and I thought “Shit, guess he’s dead too.” I still like Burroughs but I think he’s sort of full of shit.
7) Elliott Smith
I read this on Tiny Mix Tapes about ten minutes before I had to go deejay. I was never obsessed with Smith but his suicide hit me as a sort of horrible inevitability. I was overcome by notions of fate and unavoidable destiny. Maybe the quantum physicists are right. Maybe there is no free choice. Maybe we are all trains on a track, unable to change our destinations. It was very sad for me. I played either the worst of the best set of my life, depending on whom you ask.
8) John Belushi
I am about three weeks older than Saturday Night Live. It’s a fact that will haunt me on the show’s 50 anniversary in 2025. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I was a fame on the show from as early as I can remember, in particular a Belushi fan. There was something insanely childish about him. I remember watching the blues brothers and thinking: “This guy is hilarious.” I never had that reaction to Dan Ackroyd, who I will think is a bit of a pencilneck. I was at home and heard it on the radio. I was sort of walking around the house aimlessly, I think it was a Saturday. I remember having a sudden and unexplainable rush of fear and panic. It’s a feeling I still get. Like when I listen to The White Album and think about the Manson murders.
9) John Lennon
I don’t remember hearing about it at the time. I was a massive Beatles fan at the age of 5 (I had a strange affinity for Revolver) so I think my parents tried to keep this from me. I think my reaction upon learning about this was “Really? When? Really? Are you sure?”
10) Abraham Lincoln
President Lincoln died 110 years before I was born so I’m guessing I heard about this one in history class. Read more!
While I'm tired and posting short pointless little nothings here:
Grizzly Bear - Owner of a Lonely Heart
I like this band. Check out their site
This comes to us from You Ain't No Picasso. Check the Blind Man's Parade for a link. Read more!
I'm pretty syked for my friend DJ's band's first full length album Hallelujah Sirens, which is soon to be released. DJ and I met at the film program at Pratt. He's in my now cult short film Owen Makes His Move. (Actually so are three of the members of Stellastarr*)
Anyway DJ and I worked together at Lehman Brothers for a while too. Here is Dirty On Purpose's myspace page.
They are also playing three shows at SXSW.
Thursday, March 16
SXSW Day Stage
@ Austin Convention Center
4:30 pm Set Time
Friday, March 17
Official SXSW Showcase
@ Spiro's (611 Red River St)
8:00 pm Set Time
Friday, March 17
Loose Record Party
@ Big Orange
10 pm Set Time
W/ Voxtrot, Dr. Dog, Sound Team Read more!
Someone once said that every party must end. And so the doors close at one of my favorite wastoids. Cocaine Corner, the blog for all things white and speedy is shutting down after 5 months. I imagine there was some, ummmm, unpleasantness.
Anyway, I'm leaving the site up on the Blind Man's Parade because the archives are pretty funny and worth a look.
Look for Rehab Corner followed by Coffee, Cigarettes and Weight Gain Corner.
Good luck Edgar, go with God! Read more!
Anyway, I'm leaving the site up on the Blind Man's Parade because the archives are pretty funny and worth a look.
Look for Rehab Corner followed by Coffee, Cigarettes and Weight Gain Corner.
Good luck Edgar, go with God! Read more!
You can use it - don't abuse it!
Here are some helpful hints PSA style from those momma's boys over at Something Awful dot com. If you don't know Something Awful then I don't want to know you. Read more!
Well, this weekend was The Armory Art Show here in New York. Or as I like to call it The New York Boat Show with pictures.
ItÂs a massive contemporary art fair, taking up two massive piers on the Hudson River and it typically sucks.
It actually was a massive disappointment this year. Especially after last year had been so good, maybe the best Armory I've ever been to. This year it was like everyone had been partying really hard and the midterm snuck up on them. "Oh shit, Armory is next week, fuck! Help me stick some of these paintings in shipping boxes!" The New Yorker last week had a piece on Barnaby Furnas who 'painted' (notice the quotes) the largest piece for the show for Marianne Boesky, daughter of disgraced greedy asshole Ivan Boesky (donÂt worry, youÂre too young to remember). That's pretty typical of Armory this year.
No sense of artistic direction? Feeling out staged by the Whitney Biannual? Well, just make the fucking thing huge!
There were some pieces from last year's Armory that I was surprised to see. Guess they didn't sell, which means that these fucking art collectors aren't doing their job. Art collectors are the dermestid beetls of the art world. Their job to clear away this mess so I don't have to look at it.
There were lots of good pieces of art, my favorite painters right now, Muntean/Rosenblum had two small paintings that were still way out of my price range and two of their giant drawings. The Chapman Brothers did some good work (for a change) but their were no surprises, no real new standouts. A lost weekend to be sure but that the price you pay when you love to look at pretty things.
PS - This post's title is actually something I overheard at Armory on Saturday. Read more!
ItÂs a massive contemporary art fair, taking up two massive piers on the Hudson River and it typically sucks.
It actually was a massive disappointment this year. Especially after last year had been so good, maybe the best Armory I've ever been to. This year it was like everyone had been partying really hard and the midterm snuck up on them. "Oh shit, Armory is next week, fuck! Help me stick some of these paintings in shipping boxes!" The New Yorker last week had a piece on Barnaby Furnas who 'painted' (notice the quotes) the largest piece for the show for Marianne Boesky, daughter of disgraced greedy asshole Ivan Boesky (donÂt worry, youÂre too young to remember). That's pretty typical of Armory this year.
No sense of artistic direction? Feeling out staged by the Whitney Biannual? Well, just make the fucking thing huge!
There were some pieces from last year's Armory that I was surprised to see. Guess they didn't sell, which means that these fucking art collectors aren't doing their job. Art collectors are the dermestid beetls of the art world. Their job to clear away this mess so I don't have to look at it.
There were lots of good pieces of art, my favorite painters right now, Muntean/Rosenblum had two small paintings that were still way out of my price range and two of their giant drawings. The Chapman Brothers did some good work (for a change) but their were no surprises, no real new standouts. A lost weekend to be sure but that the price you pay when you love to look at pretty things.
PS - This post's title is actually something I overheard at Armory on Saturday. Read more!
Let’s start this off by coming to a small agreement. An agreement on what? Well, let’s all agree that Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez is out to lunch.
Let me preface this (well, I guess it’s a bit late for a preface) by saying that I like Hugo Chavez. First, he’s into poor people and that ain’t easy, cause they’re poor. Anyone can be in the pocket of big business, they got money up the ying yang, but being beholden to poor people in a poor country is tantamount to having a moral spine, or just being a retard. Second, he feisty. You never know what that guy is going to do. He’s the Richard Branson of socialist South American governments. One day he’s giving away home heating oil to the poor, the next he’s sailing around the globe in the World’s smallest hot air balloon. Living in Venezuela must be something like watching The Apprentice all the time. Third, he pisses off George W. Bush. Granted, that’s not hard. Jacque Chirac, manages to do it nearly every day, but there’s something special about how Chavez irritates the Prez. It’s gotten so bad that when Chavez gave free heating oil to poor American communities here in the Northeast the White House bitched that he was trying to piss them off. If this guy sends back an over cooked steak it’s to piss off the President. Given how much the President pisses me off, I’m glad to know someone is under his spur.
But given all that you still have to admit that Chavez is a special brand of socialist revolution crazy that they seem to put into the coffee down south. This week, in between rants about the latest CIA assassination attempt Chavez took some time out to announce that the white horse that adorns the Venezuelan national crest would no longer be galloping right, but now would face left.
C-R-A-Z-Y!
President Chavez calmly explained that the right facing horse was the horse of imperialism. Everyone in the room looked around awkwardly. "The white horse is now liberated, free, vigorous, trotting toward the left, representing the return of Bolivar and his dream,", Chavez muttered from under a tinfoil helmet.
This new change doesn’t help Venezuela from having the dumbest crest ever. What is that a fruit basket at the top? Is that coca leaves on the right? What the fuck?
Chavez also added a star to the flag, a star that represents the “Bolivarian Star”, which I think is in the little dipper. Anyway, it’s gonna cost millions to replace flags, passports and currency and a national sense of dignity, but what the fuck, the horse has got to face the right direction right? I mean God forbid a illustrated horse gallop to the left on a flag.
You might think this sort of overwrought symbolism is just a symptom of a greater psychosis but in Chavez’s defense he had just seen the Chronicles of Narnia.
There are no subtle cocaine references in this post. Read more!
Some of you may be having problems accessing this “website” from work. Although we here at 26 Reds are an occasional source for pornography and masturbation techniques we have not (yet) posted any actually smut. So we’re a little surprised that we’ve so quickly caught the attention of some IT goons.
Generally I agree with the ‘no porno at work’ principle that underlines Internet related censorship in the workplace. The last people I want to imagine watching some online bukkake video are my co-workers. Plus Internet porn is so substandard.
Anyway, I’ve been caught in a few (at least that I know of) nets, all of which made this little story that I came across last week all the more interesting. MORE AFTER THE JUMP
If you don’t know Boing Boing you’re missing out. It’s the self-described ‘Directory of All Things Wonderful’, which post a half dozen or more links a day. Boing Boing is the very definition of Internet meta. It houses very little content of its own, serving mostly as a curiosity cabinet of all things digital. It covers many topics; a recent check found links to a gallery of Combat Robot Fest photos, a lost in translation Chinese menu and a link to a blogger on Antarctica. Yet one thing Boing Boing isn’t is pornographic. That was until the middle of January.
According to an article by Tom Zeller Jr., published March 6 in the New York Times sometime at the end of last month corporate computer surfers, eager to check out Boing Boing were greeted with this message: “Access denied by SmartFilter content category. The requested URL belongs to the following categories: Entertainment/Recreation/Hobbies/Nudity.”
Now, there are three major questions that a would=be surfer will raise here; in order of importance they are: “What the fuck happened to my Boing Boing?”, “What the fuck is SmartFilter?” and “What nudity? There was nudity? How come no one told me?” Well, that last one is three question but you get the picture.
The answers are best given in reverse order. The nudity in question was a post from mid-January about two recent books on the history of pornography. The post (with links) featured a thumbnail size nude picture. Thusly SmartFilter, a computer product from Secure Computing out of San Jose, flagged the site.
SmartFilter is designed to give companies Tsar-like control over their network and anyone on it. It works using a central database of millions of website which are organized into 73 categories. Network Administrators can then decide which of these categories visitors (or employee) can see and which are banned. Until recently Boing Boing was fair game on millions on networks but this change in category has had them nearly universally banned, thus exposing SmartFilter and Secure Computing’s client list which includes Halliburton, American Express, The United Arab Emirates, Qatar and Saudi Arabia. All of whom, we can assume, would rather keep their Internet censoring clandestine.
Leaving aside question about how much control over employee’s Internet activity an employer should have, there are still issues raised by Secure Computing tactics. Internet censorship is always a tricky game. It’s impossible to actually view ever website for content, with millions of pages added and millions more changing every day controlling that body of content would bankrupt Exxon/Mobile. Attempts in the past to use keywords have had laughable results, with some nannyware programs blocking medical websites based on the use of the word “breast” or “penis”. Students in one California High School, doing a report on breast cancer found research in the school’s computer center impossible. Secure Computing is having similar troubles. By account of the Times artistic representation, including Michelangelo’s David have been blocked by SmartFilter. This ridiculous lapse has been seized on by bloggers who have taken to posting images of David on in solidarity and protest.
Secure Computing stands by their guns, stating that for their purposes a website that has any nude content is the same as a website with only nude content. This 1% = 100% theory is often the basis of on-line censorship and will be, in the future a major huddle to any company or country interested in regulating what people can see and cannot see.
In taking such an unrealistic position Secure Computing is setting themselves up for a showdown with a internet community already mindful of Big Brother’s gaze and salivating to take on anything so keenly absurd as Secure Computing corporate stance. Already there has been a flooding on cheats, tricks and go-arounds designed to subvert the slow moving and poorly adapting SmartFilter. In the Serengeti of the Internet censorship protocols are the slow moving gazelle.
To avoid this showdown Secure Computing has suggested that Boing Boing and other sites put their questionable material onto a separate server, allowing SmartFilter to block that while leaving the rest of the site accessible. Boing Boing (to their credit) has refused saying that they have no interest in helping censors do their job.
I agree, to paraphrase Jennifer Aniston in Office Space; You know, there was a separate serve that the Germans put the Jews on. Read more!
Generally I agree with the ‘no porno at work’ principle that underlines Internet related censorship in the workplace. The last people I want to imagine watching some online bukkake video are my co-workers. Plus Internet porn is so substandard.
Anyway, I’ve been caught in a few (at least that I know of) nets, all of which made this little story that I came across last week all the more interesting. MORE AFTER THE JUMP
If you don’t know Boing Boing you’re missing out. It’s the self-described ‘Directory of All Things Wonderful’, which post a half dozen or more links a day. Boing Boing is the very definition of Internet meta. It houses very little content of its own, serving mostly as a curiosity cabinet of all things digital. It covers many topics; a recent check found links to a gallery of Combat Robot Fest photos, a lost in translation Chinese menu and a link to a blogger on Antarctica. Yet one thing Boing Boing isn’t is pornographic. That was until the middle of January.
According to an article by Tom Zeller Jr., published March 6 in the New York Times sometime at the end of last month corporate computer surfers, eager to check out Boing Boing were greeted with this message: “Access denied by SmartFilter content category. The requested URL belongs to the following categories: Entertainment/Recreation/Hobbies/Nudity.”
Now, there are three major questions that a would=be surfer will raise here; in order of importance they are: “What the fuck happened to my Boing Boing?”, “What the fuck is SmartFilter?” and “What nudity? There was nudity? How come no one told me?” Well, that last one is three question but you get the picture.
The answers are best given in reverse order. The nudity in question was a post from mid-January about two recent books on the history of pornography. The post (with links) featured a thumbnail size nude picture. Thusly SmartFilter, a computer product from Secure Computing out of San Jose, flagged the site.
SmartFilter is designed to give companies Tsar-like control over their network and anyone on it. It works using a central database of millions of website which are organized into 73 categories. Network Administrators can then decide which of these categories visitors (or employee) can see and which are banned. Until recently Boing Boing was fair game on millions on networks but this change in category has had them nearly universally banned, thus exposing SmartFilter and Secure Computing’s client list which includes Halliburton, American Express, The United Arab Emirates, Qatar and Saudi Arabia. All of whom, we can assume, would rather keep their Internet censoring clandestine.
Leaving aside question about how much control over employee’s Internet activity an employer should have, there are still issues raised by Secure Computing tactics. Internet censorship is always a tricky game. It’s impossible to actually view ever website for content, with millions of pages added and millions more changing every day controlling that body of content would bankrupt Exxon/Mobile. Attempts in the past to use keywords have had laughable results, with some nannyware programs blocking medical websites based on the use of the word “breast” or “penis”. Students in one California High School, doing a report on breast cancer found research in the school’s computer center impossible. Secure Computing is having similar troubles. By account of the Times artistic representation, including Michelangelo’s David have been blocked by SmartFilter. This ridiculous lapse has been seized on by bloggers who have taken to posting images of David on in solidarity and protest.
Secure Computing stands by their guns, stating that for their purposes a website that has any nude content is the same as a website with only nude content. This 1% = 100% theory is often the basis of on-line censorship and will be, in the future a major huddle to any company or country interested in regulating what people can see and cannot see.
In taking such an unrealistic position Secure Computing is setting themselves up for a showdown with a internet community already mindful of Big Brother’s gaze and salivating to take on anything so keenly absurd as Secure Computing corporate stance. Already there has been a flooding on cheats, tricks and go-arounds designed to subvert the slow moving and poorly adapting SmartFilter. In the Serengeti of the Internet censorship protocols are the slow moving gazelle.
To avoid this showdown Secure Computing has suggested that Boing Boing and other sites put their questionable material onto a separate server, allowing SmartFilter to block that while leaving the rest of the site accessible. Boing Boing (to their credit) has refused saying that they have no interest in helping censors do their job.
I agree, to paraphrase Jennifer Aniston in Office Space; You know, there was a separate serve that the Germans put the Jews on. Read more!
DON'T IT ALWAYS SEEM TO GO THAT YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'VE GOT TIL IT'S GONE
Written Wednesday, March 8 by J.R.Knight.
My favorite story about Marcel Duchamp takes place in Paris around 1960. The beats (Allen Ginsburg, William Burroughs and Gregory Corso) were staying at Mme. Rachou’s flophouse, famous for housing filthy and impoverished subversives, when they went to see Marcel Duchamp at the house of a wealthy patron.
First things first they get on the ground and crawl around. A attempt at surreal ritual that ends with Ginsburg licking Duchamp’s (now around 70) knees. Duchamp was apparently confused, embarrassed and pissed. The beats must have thought themselves on the verge of some amazing breakthrough, although somehow I can’t imagine Burroughs getting involved in this sort of shit. Maybe we’ll imagine him smoking a hash cigarette and watching with quiet disgust.
So next Corso gets a pair of scissors and these fuckwads cut the tie of Duchamp. They cut the tie off a seventy-year-old man. They must of thought they were genius. I’m sure the first thing Duchamp said after they left was “Who the fuck was that?”
As a side note to this story another of the beats famed flophouse shenanigans was when Ginsburg got a copy of Antonin Artaud’s 1947 radio play ''To Have Done With the Judgment of God''. Famously Antonin Artaud invented his own language for the piece. So here are their retards, getting high and listening to this gibberish going “far out man, this is wild!” Not realizing that they were running the reel-to-reel player backwards. Again, I imagine it was Burroughs who walked into the room and figured it out. He walks out muttering “numb-nuts.” Under his breath.
Here is a link to Duchamp's 1926 experimental film Anemic Cinema. It's in AVI format.
Here is a link to Barry Miles' book on Mme Rachou's flophouse. Read more!
First things first they get on the ground and crawl around. A attempt at surreal ritual that ends with Ginsburg licking Duchamp’s (now around 70) knees. Duchamp was apparently confused, embarrassed and pissed. The beats must have thought themselves on the verge of some amazing breakthrough, although somehow I can’t imagine Burroughs getting involved in this sort of shit. Maybe we’ll imagine him smoking a hash cigarette and watching with quiet disgust.
So next Corso gets a pair of scissors and these fuckwads cut the tie of Duchamp. They cut the tie off a seventy-year-old man. They must of thought they were genius. I’m sure the first thing Duchamp said after they left was “Who the fuck was that?”
As a side note to this story another of the beats famed flophouse shenanigans was when Ginsburg got a copy of Antonin Artaud’s 1947 radio play ''To Have Done With the Judgment of God''. Famously Antonin Artaud invented his own language for the piece. So here are their retards, getting high and listening to this gibberish going “far out man, this is wild!” Not realizing that they were running the reel-to-reel player backwards. Again, I imagine it was Burroughs who walked into the room and figured it out. He walks out muttering “numb-nuts.” Under his breath.
Here is a link to Duchamp's 1926 experimental film Anemic Cinema. It's in AVI format.
Here is a link to Barry Miles' book on Mme Rachou's flophouse. Read more!
So now it’s all come out and it looks like David Chappelle’s unceremonious absence was due to him feeling more like Rockchester and less like Richard Pryor. It’s understandable. A large portion of Mr. Chappelle’s audience are white males in their late teens and early twenties. The demographic most likely to use the word nigger in personal conversation without the least concern of it’s history or etymology. I’ve had, in the last two years a number of members of this key demographic describe to me in vivid language sketches from Mr. Chappelle’s Comedy Central show involving racial stereotyping that (with the exception of my last post) would even make me blush. Well, not blush, but out of a “black” context funny turns to questionable in a heartbeat. A side effect of Mr. Chappelle’s show may have been to legitimize, or at least to green-light some of the most racist and debasing of modern black stereotypes. More after the Jump!
In an interview on Oprah’s show several years ago Chris Rock was asked by a white man in the audience why black people could say nigger (or nigga, I see no difference, personally) but white people couldn’t. Mr. Rock’s answer may be the most pointed and interesting statement about modern American race relations: “Why do you want to?” Mr. Rock goes on to point out that white men (I say men because this seems to be a white male bastion. In my 30 years on Earth I have never heard a woman use the word) seem never more than a stones throw from screaming “Nigger” from the mountaintop. Quoting it in conversation and from the stand up routines of a dozen black comedians whenever chance permits (Even recently to great comic effect on an episode of NBC show The Office, where a Chris Rock routine was quoted verbatim by a white boss to his multicultural underlings).But self-debasing humor among black comedians has been in vogue for nearly as long as the form itself. Has Mr. Chappelle really crossed that line? Let’s see. Among modern black comics (we shall leave aside minstrel shows and the like) Richard Pryor and Paul Mooney are considered both the most innovative and offensive of black comedians. Mr. Pryor (who we lost no December 10 2005) wrote much of Blazing Saddles, a sharp and intelligent comedy that is also, at times, sexist, racist and anti-Semitic. Yet it would be hard to argue that the film reinforces black stereotypes.
The plot (about a erudite modern day black man sent to play sheriff to a town of wild west whites hicks) may provide a piece of our solution. Cleavon Little (himself a Tony winning Shakespearean actor), as our sophisticated hero, is the cultured and intellectual superior to the white towns people, and yet THEY reject HIM, not the other way around (Mr. Little says to himself in one scene “Baby, you are soooo talented. And they are soooo stupid!”). The film about a black man replacing a town’s white leader during a time of crisis was released in February of 1974, nearly 6 months to the day before embattled President Richard Millhouse Nixon resigned the office. Perhaps simply interesting historical coincidence but it jives with the film’s message. A racist culture rejecting it’s cultural, intellectual superior (Bart rides into town to the Count Basie Orchestra, Count Basie himself slaps Bart five. In many ways Mr. Little’s character is a Count Basie stand-in ). A beautiful allegory for an American culture disinterested in the disenfranchisement of the rich cultural and intellectual black communities of the late sixties and early seventies. Blazing Saddles’ message would play a stark counter image to the black out riots in New York City three years later. Those images would serve as a flash point in New York City race relations for the better part of 15 years.But is Dave Chappelle’s message that far off from Mr. Brooke (I have to give Mr. Brookes his due) and Mr. Pryor’s cultural allegory?
No. Mr. Chappelle often deals with issues of black stereotypes on television and the role blacks play in the media. His points, however, are often confusing and his delivery misleading. In one sketch he images a world where the U.S. Government pays black Americas slavery reparations. What do blacks do with the money? They buy fried chicken, Escalades and truck loads of Kool cigarettes. Mr. Chappelle may be taking his fellow black Americans to task for poor saving and investment power (an epidemic in this country, which further disenfranchises communities) but the far more base takeaway (especially for a young white male audience predisposed to see it) is the message that niggers like fried chicken, kool cigarettes and rolling dice. No wonder Mr. Chappelle felt conflicted.
Yet interestingly, and ironically, Mr. Chappelle’s show, a runaway hit and the best selling television show on DVD (the 2nd season) may be totally out of touch with black America. African American Homeownership is at it highest level ever with a larger black middle class than ever before. A far cry from Mr. Chappelle’s character of Tyrone Biggums, the homeless crack addict. In fact blacks seems sharply closer to the character played by Bernie Mac on The Bernie Mac Show. Mr. Mac, either knowingly or unknowingly has reinvented the radio era character of The Great Gildersleeve, a middle ages man forced to care after his orphaned niece and nephew. Mr. Mac show is part of a trending in many corners of black media towards the middle class. While films in the eighties and early nineties trended towards gritty urban drama, heavy on drugs violence and despair (New Jack City, Beat Street, etc.) more recently the trend has been away from ghettos (anything Taye Diggs or Vivica Foxx). While Brown Sugar (2002) may not be as popular as New Jack City (1991) with our young white male demo, that may not be a bad thing.Black comedians, especially those who attain “cross-over” appeal walk a delicate line between entertaining a new broader (whiter) audience and alienating their black base who have come to expect socially and politically charged material.
David Chappelle will return to television. He is talented, charming and smart and his recent escape to Africa for sabbatical demonstrates an inner conscience. The vision of mainstream black comedy capable of calling both white and black America to task on issues of race and class is a dream a posse ad esse. What he will look like when he returns is anyone’s guess. Who knows, maybe Sheriff Bart. Read more!
Carole Bouquet and Ángela Molina in a pubicity shot from The Luis Bunuel film That Obscure Object of Desire (1977). I should carry this picture around in my wallet so when people ask my why I want to make films I can pull it out. Read more!
Whenever friends of mine travel across this pointlessly vast nation they always come back to say something retarded like: “You’d REALLY like Columbus.”
Really? Me? What, are you taking stupid pills again?
The truth is I know I would hate living in any other major (or minor) city in the country. I know this without ever having to see any of them. How do I know this? Because I’m an American, and American’s don’t have to travel to places and see things to know that they suck.
This ties in quite well to a game I like to play when I meet someone who I think is dumber than me or who says something I find objectionable. It works really well if that person starts rambling on and on about their international travel (When I was in Brazil…). I create incredibly specific stereotypes for various nationalities. Stereotypes that are not only unverifiable but also totally pointless. Here are some examples:
AFTER THE JUMP!
Portuguese listen to their music VERY loudly. You can barely hear yourself think.
The Finnish swear like sailors.
The Taiwanese bitterly hate Yugoslavians.
Columbians run like retards.
Never leave your girlfriend alone with a Ugandan.
All French Canadians are nerds.
See, cause how would you know? Try to keep it so this stereotype can seem based on one single encounter that you never got over. One should be stunningly specific. “The Polish are terrible bartenders and when you’re not looking they make out with your girlfriend on the roof of a skating rink.”
Anyway, my new game is just as fun. It’s called “Jesse explains why he can’t live in any major or minor cities in the United States with stereotypes, innuendos and unverifiable hearsay. “ Look for the home game.
Boston: It gets so cold there that people are often found frozen to death in six foot high snow drifts.
Chicago: The man to woman ratio is 42 to 1 against the men!
Kansas City: The mayor is an Ex-Nazi.
Boulder: Highest chlamydia rate in the Western world.
Atlanta: The smelliest citizens in the country
Portland: No pizza places in the city limits
You get the idea. When someone says “Hey, I’m from Atlanta.” Just says, “Yeah, and you left, right?”
Read more!
Really? Me? What, are you taking stupid pills again?
The truth is I know I would hate living in any other major (or minor) city in the country. I know this without ever having to see any of them. How do I know this? Because I’m an American, and American’s don’t have to travel to places and see things to know that they suck.
This ties in quite well to a game I like to play when I meet someone who I think is dumber than me or who says something I find objectionable. It works really well if that person starts rambling on and on about their international travel (When I was in Brazil…). I create incredibly specific stereotypes for various nationalities. Stereotypes that are not only unverifiable but also totally pointless. Here are some examples:
AFTER THE JUMP!
Portuguese listen to their music VERY loudly. You can barely hear yourself think.
The Finnish swear like sailors.
The Taiwanese bitterly hate Yugoslavians.
Columbians run like retards.
Never leave your girlfriend alone with a Ugandan.
All French Canadians are nerds.
See, cause how would you know? Try to keep it so this stereotype can seem based on one single encounter that you never got over. One should be stunningly specific. “The Polish are terrible bartenders and when you’re not looking they make out with your girlfriend on the roof of a skating rink.”
Anyway, my new game is just as fun. It’s called “Jesse explains why he can’t live in any major or minor cities in the United States with stereotypes, innuendos and unverifiable hearsay. “ Look for the home game.
Boston: It gets so cold there that people are often found frozen to death in six foot high snow drifts.
Chicago: The man to woman ratio is 42 to 1 against the men!
Kansas City: The mayor is an Ex-Nazi.
Boulder: Highest chlamydia rate in the Western world.
Atlanta: The smelliest citizens in the country
Portland: No pizza places in the city limits
You get the idea. When someone says “Hey, I’m from Atlanta.” Just says, “Yeah, and you left, right?”
Read more!
The other day M-CAT and I were discussing the title one of my stupider posts. It was a quote from famed talent scout William Morris "Nothing useless can ever truly be beautiful.
M-CAT and I both disagreed. Here's my theory: If you strip away all usefulness you end up with this. But if you have an object that is totally useful you get this. Which do you think is more beautiful? Read more!
M-CAT and I both disagreed. Here's my theory: If you strip away all usefulness you end up with this. But if you have an object that is totally useful you get this. Which do you think is more beautiful? Read more!
"WOMEN DON'T HAVE FRIENDS, THEY ONLY HAVE OTHER WOMEN THEY SUCK THE BLOOD FROM"
Written by J.R.Knight.
That quote is from my friend (through Toby) Berk
I was at Peasant on Saturday night. There were four women. Two in their late twenties. Two in their late thirties. When the girls in their twenties were away I heard:
"She's lost too much wait."
"God- I keep waiting for her to say something!"
"That top would look cute... On me."
When the girls in their thirties were away I heard:
"Is this [so-and-so]'s bag? It's hideous!"
"I just feel like when she's happy to see me she's being disingenuous."
"I know you thought I was overly suspicious when you met me."
"I used to think you were overly suspicious..."
God, if I had a vagina I'd be overly suspicious too. No wonder so many girls only hang out with guys. Read more!
I was at Peasant on Saturday night. There were four women. Two in their late twenties. Two in their late thirties. When the girls in their twenties were away I heard:
"She's lost too much wait."
"God- I keep waiting for her to say something!"
"That top would look cute... On me."
When the girls in their thirties were away I heard:
"Is this [so-and-so]'s bag? It's hideous!"
"I just feel like when she's happy to see me she's being disingenuous."
"I know you thought I was overly suspicious when you met me."
"I used to think you were overly suspicious..."
God, if I had a vagina I'd be overly suspicious too. No wonder so many girls only hang out with guys. Read more!
I was named after a Joan Baez song. The only person in the world to guess that when first meeting me was Peaches. I said "I'm Jesse." She said, "like the song! Hey Jesse! It's lonely!" We were on mushrooms and on a construction site at five a.m. Hey! Berlin's a fucked up place!
the lyrics after the jump!
Jesse come home, there's a hole in the bed
Where we slept; now it's growing cold.
Jesse your face, in the place where we lay
By the hearth, all apart, it hangs on my heart
And I'm leaving the light on the stairs
No I'm not scared; I wait for you
Hey Jesse, it's lonely, come home.
Jesse the stairs in the halls, recalling
Your step; and I remember too.
All the pictures are shaded and fading in grey
And I still set a place on the table at noon
And I'm leaving the light on the stairs
No I'm not scared; I wait for you
Hey Jesse, it's lonely, come home.
Jesse the spread on the bed,
It's like when you left, I kept it for you.
All the blues and the greens have been recently cleaned
And are seemingly new; hey Jess, me and you.
We'll swallow the light on the stairs
I'll fix up my hair, we'll sleep unawares
Hey Jesse, it's lonely, come home
Hey - do me a favor! If I drop dead tell everyone I was named after Jesse Luscious Townley. Please?
Read more!
the lyrics after the jump!
Jesse come home, there's a hole in the bed
Where we slept; now it's growing cold.
Jesse your face, in the place where we lay
By the hearth, all apart, it hangs on my heart
And I'm leaving the light on the stairs
No I'm not scared; I wait for you
Hey Jesse, it's lonely, come home.
Jesse the stairs in the halls, recalling
Your step; and I remember too.
All the pictures are shaded and fading in grey
And I still set a place on the table at noon
And I'm leaving the light on the stairs
No I'm not scared; I wait for you
Hey Jesse, it's lonely, come home.
Jesse the spread on the bed,
It's like when you left, I kept it for you.
All the blues and the greens have been recently cleaned
And are seemingly new; hey Jess, me and you.
We'll swallow the light on the stairs
I'll fix up my hair, we'll sleep unawares
Hey Jesse, it's lonely, come home
Hey - do me a favor! If I drop dead tell everyone I was named after Jesse Luscious Townley. Please?
Read more!
Do you remember when McDonald's introduced that sandwich where the meat patty and the lettuce and tomato were in separate compartments and you'd have to join them together yourself? The idea was to keep the cold side cold and the hot side hot. I guess serving fresh made food was out of the question. The upshot of this thing was that you had to actually look at the hamburger patty you were about to eat. I think McDonald's would be wise to avoid reminding it's clientele that they're eating beef hearts and bull scrotums. Read more!
Some days I love living in NYC. I love the museums, I love being able to walk to see any movie that's in release and some that aren't. I love walking in and out of art galleries. I love the music scene and the fact that every band in the world MUST come through this town. I love that they dump a giant pile of copies of the New York Times in the lobby of my building ever morning but mostly I love that I can call a guy and have sushi, pizza, lo mien, a bag of pretzels, bottled water and a pack of condoms delivered to my apartment at two a.m.
But then sometimes a wanna quit the whole scene as settle down and run this gas station. Can you imagine me sitting in there writing all day. People would drive through from town just to say hi and we'd sit and talk about what Ed did this week or about the Johnston’s farm. If strangers drove through and needed directions I'd say" Let me google that for ya." In the afternoon I'd go fishing and at night I'd play chess against myself and listen to Joni Mitchell albums.
My best friend would be Carl, a sixty year old ex-math teacher who writes op/ed pieces for local papers and lives here. I’d go visit him on Thursdays, my day off, and we'd drinks Coors out of cans, listen to Pet Sounds and bitch about the local government.
I think I would be happy. Read more!
But then sometimes a wanna quit the whole scene as settle down and run this gas station. Can you imagine me sitting in there writing all day. People would drive through from town just to say hi and we'd sit and talk about what Ed did this week or about the Johnston’s farm. If strangers drove through and needed directions I'd say" Let me google that for ya." In the afternoon I'd go fishing and at night I'd play chess against myself and listen to Joni Mitchell albums. 
My best friend would be Carl, a sixty year old ex-math teacher who writes op/ed pieces for local papers and lives here. I’d go visit him on Thursdays, my day off, and we'd drinks Coors out of cans, listen to Pet Sounds and bitch about the local government. I think I would be happy. Read more!
Okay, our Person of the Week award isn’t always given out on time. Some weeks not at all. You try coming up with a human depraved enough to warrant this sort of attention. Okay, it’s not that hard, but keeping it interesting can be a challenge. I mean, where do you go from a guy who drinks children’s urine? Well, if he’s the insult, meet the injury.
Meet father of the year candidate Byron Perkins. While awaiting sentencing on various charges that carried a minimum of 25 years in prison Byron “Wonder dad” Perkins was allowed out on bond to receive medical testing. Medical testing in preparation for what? Mr. Perkins’s 16 year-old son in on dialysis and badly needs a kidney. Mr. Perkins was to donate said organ.
Instead Byron split town, leaving his son without a kidney and a dad. I guess if it’s a choice between Byron Perkins and no dad you’re better off with no dad. Mr. Perkins is believed to be in Mexico with his girlfriend.
So for putting family first Mr. Perkins is our Person of the Week Read more!
This is a coolest website you will go to today. It's a 360 degree view of Paris. Buy your tickets now people. Read more!
No one has had an original idea in twenty years and even then it was the post it note. Before that I think it was the waffle iron. Other than that I think we’re tapped out in the idea department. For God’s sake people, even our wars are sequels. It’s no wonder the small brains in Hollywood, California can’t produce a single sentence on their own.
It’s a sea of sequels and remakes, most of which are for films that no one wanted to see in the first place (who greenlighted a Poseidon Adventure remake?) Meanwhile the greatest films in the American catalog go by unsequeled. It’s fucking bullshit and I’m calling it RIGHT NOW. After the jump I'll reveal my top ten films that never had sequels because there is no God.
(This list is in no order at all)
1) Goonies 2: Goonier
Goonies represented everything that was good about growing up in the eighties and with it’s wide appeal and open ended storyline it’s a wonder to me why it didn’t get a sequel but Look Who’s Talking gets two. After inexplicably turning up at home with a mountain of riches the goonies gang become local celebs and the kids at the arcade with an endless supply of quarters. This draws the attention of a generic bad guy (played by Gary Busey). Chunk is kidnapped and the gang have to muster every last bit of gooniedom to rescue him.
TAGLINE: Now with twice as much goon.
2) The Shining: Shinier
It’s twenty years later and there is another winter caretaker at the old Overlook hotel (played by Gary Busey) with his wife and young son and daughter. A special and gifted daughter, one with an imaginary friend (wink). Danny Torrance, who never got over the whole ‘my dad died trying to kill me with an axe in a haunted hotel’ thing has taken Scatman Crothers job of looking after the place and hanging around his apartment in his underwear. Here’s the catch, when Danny gets that shining tingle that Scatman got he remembers Scatman’s axe to the stomach and decides the brats aren’t worth it.
TAGLINE: Still crazy after all these years!! Deadly crazy!!!!
3) Red Dawn 2: Red White and Blood
After the rag tag bunch of southern Californian high school students beat the Russian army they have a hard time going back to fucking algebra class, deciding instead to live in the woods. Naturally the Californian school board doesn’t take kindly to having it’s charges living in the wood, drinking deer blood and fornicating with feral homeless hillbilly girls and so the California state militia (led by Gary Busey) is sent to get them back. Hilarity ensues. Violent and pointless hilarity.
TAGLINE: Playing hooky with a vengeance
4) Dr. Strangelove 2 or how I learned to Stop Bitching All the Time and Love the Bunker
This one is a gimme. After Slim Pickins starts World War III President Merkin Muffley (played in Peter Sellers absence by Gary Busey) is forced to implement the final directive. They gather all the main character that are left and head for the bunker, determined to live out the nuclear radiation. The problem: Through poor planning and general disorder during the bunker boarding process there is only one woman in the bunker. Naturally everyone has a theory as to why they should be allowed to procreate. Hilarity ensues. Sexy hilarity.
TAGLINE: Who know nuclear holocaust could hurt soooo good?
5) Casablanca 2: Road to Marrakech
Like Dr. Strangelove this one could be a challenge due to a dead cast but if we’re creative we can work around this pesky minor details. At the end of the first film Rick and Captain Renault have foiled the Germans and were last seen walking out across Casablanca airport. Rick famously says “I think this is a start of a beautiful friendship.” But where did they go? What happens to Ricky’s Place? Who wins the war? Well here come answer to two of those three questions. With the German hot on their trail for the death of Major Strasser the two fast friends flee Casablanca for parts unknown. Well, if you read the movie poster you’d know. But I don’t think the German had the movie poster in this movie. Marrakech!!! Once in the capital they set up a detective agency called R & R (Rick and Renault). R & R’s first case? Why it’s a simple case of MURDER. The murder of Gary Busey!!!
TAGLINE: Solving all of African’s problems one mystery at a time!
6) Reservoir Dogs 2: Reservoir Dudes!
The only person to survive the first film is Mr. Pink, or, if you like, Mr. Pussy. So we pick up the story with him. He has a bag full of diamonds and a loaded weapon and he has just survived he second gunfight with police. So, where does he go? Mexico, of course. By the time he gets there he has sold the diamonds and is living the good life until danger finds him. Danger in the form of Joe Cabot’s business partner (played by Chuck Norris) who tracked Mr. Pink down and is looking for his diamonds. Of course Mr. Pink doesn’t have the money anymore, having just lost it all on an ill-fated land development deal in Northern Iraq. And so to avoid being killed Mr. Pink is forced to team up with Chuck Norris’ immature surfer son. Will he be able to teach him the criminal ropes in time for the big score? Most likely not. (NOTE: I’m aware that at the end of the first Reservoir Dogs you can here Mr. Pink being shot dead by the cops. We’ll explain that all away with a line like. “I had to drop a few pigs before I could get away!” Whatever, that’s the writer’s problem!
TAGLINE: This ain’t no donkey show!
7) The Third Man 2: The Fourth Man
This time the title is the easiest thing. After killing his friend and general horrible guy Harry Lime (Orson Welles), Joseph Cotton’s character (who’s name I can’t remember) returns to America. Years and years pass and until he discovers that Harry Lime (played in Orson Welles absence by Chuck Norris) survived and is now selling cheap California wine. Wine so cheap and diluted that it doesn’t even get you drunk, no matter how much you drink. Small Pox vaccine is one thing but fucking with our wine supply. That just won’t stand.
TAGLINE: He’ll sell no wine before it’s time… TO DIE!!
8)JFK 2: RFK
We all know that John F. Kennedy was killed by a international conspiracy pissed off about how much sweet ass he was getting, but did you know that Robert F. Kennedy was murder in a plot to bring a sense of deliciously evil irony to the world? You didn’t? What are you taking stupid pills again? Well, in RFK a young go getter District Attorney (I don’t know why that’s capitalized) played by Chuck Norris, is assigned the Sirhan B. Sirhan’s murder trial (why would you name your son Sirhan if your last name is Sirhan? Fucking Palestinians!!). He meets opposition at every crossroads as a tale of murder, intrigue and conspiracy at the highest levels of state (Well, the highest levels of A state. Cause, you know, Robert was a senator, not a president. Get it? It’s a joke, asshole! Well, fuck you too!! Shithead!!) The judge will be played by the coach of the Philadelphia Eagles or Wilford Brimley, depending on shooting schedules.
TAGLINE: This time it’s personal
Okay. This Top Ten list only has eight. You got a problem with that? Hey, this website is free, go fuck yourself! Read more!
It’s a sea of sequels and remakes, most of which are for films that no one wanted to see in the first place (who greenlighted a Poseidon Adventure remake?) Meanwhile the greatest films in the American catalog go by unsequeled. It’s fucking bullshit and I’m calling it RIGHT NOW. After the jump I'll reveal my top ten films that never had sequels because there is no God.
(This list is in no order at all)
1) Goonies 2: Goonier
Goonies represented everything that was good about growing up in the eighties and with it’s wide appeal and open ended storyline it’s a wonder to me why it didn’t get a sequel but Look Who’s Talking gets two. After inexplicably turning up at home with a mountain of riches the goonies gang become local celebs and the kids at the arcade with an endless supply of quarters. This draws the attention of a generic bad guy (played by Gary Busey). Chunk is kidnapped and the gang have to muster every last bit of gooniedom to rescue him.
TAGLINE: Now with twice as much goon.
2) The Shining: Shinier
It’s twenty years later and there is another winter caretaker at the old Overlook hotel (played by Gary Busey) with his wife and young son and daughter. A special and gifted daughter, one with an imaginary friend (wink). Danny Torrance, who never got over the whole ‘my dad died trying to kill me with an axe in a haunted hotel’ thing has taken Scatman Crothers job of looking after the place and hanging around his apartment in his underwear. Here’s the catch, when Danny gets that shining tingle that Scatman got he remembers Scatman’s axe to the stomach and decides the brats aren’t worth it.
TAGLINE: Still crazy after all these years!! Deadly crazy!!!!
3) Red Dawn 2: Red White and Blood
After the rag tag bunch of southern Californian high school students beat the Russian army they have a hard time going back to fucking algebra class, deciding instead to live in the woods. Naturally the Californian school board doesn’t take kindly to having it’s charges living in the wood, drinking deer blood and fornicating with feral homeless hillbilly girls and so the California state militia (led by Gary Busey) is sent to get them back. Hilarity ensues. Violent and pointless hilarity.
TAGLINE: Playing hooky with a vengeance
4) Dr. Strangelove 2 or how I learned to Stop Bitching All the Time and Love the Bunker
This one is a gimme. After Slim Pickins starts World War III President Merkin Muffley (played in Peter Sellers absence by Gary Busey) is forced to implement the final directive. They gather all the main character that are left and head for the bunker, determined to live out the nuclear radiation. The problem: Through poor planning and general disorder during the bunker boarding process there is only one woman in the bunker. Naturally everyone has a theory as to why they should be allowed to procreate. Hilarity ensues. Sexy hilarity.
TAGLINE: Who know nuclear holocaust could hurt soooo good?
5) Casablanca 2: Road to Marrakech
Like Dr. Strangelove this one could be a challenge due to a dead cast but if we’re creative we can work around this pesky minor details. At the end of the first film Rick and Captain Renault have foiled the Germans and were last seen walking out across Casablanca airport. Rick famously says “I think this is a start of a beautiful friendship.” But where did they go? What happens to Ricky’s Place? Who wins the war? Well here come answer to two of those three questions. With the German hot on their trail for the death of Major Strasser the two fast friends flee Casablanca for parts unknown. Well, if you read the movie poster you’d know. But I don’t think the German had the movie poster in this movie. Marrakech!!! Once in the capital they set up a detective agency called R & R (Rick and Renault). R & R’s first case? Why it’s a simple case of MURDER. The murder of Gary Busey!!!
TAGLINE: Solving all of African’s problems one mystery at a time!
6) Reservoir Dogs 2: Reservoir Dudes!
The only person to survive the first film is Mr. Pink, or, if you like, Mr. Pussy. So we pick up the story with him. He has a bag full of diamonds and a loaded weapon and he has just survived he second gunfight with police. So, where does he go? Mexico, of course. By the time he gets there he has sold the diamonds and is living the good life until danger finds him. Danger in the form of Joe Cabot’s business partner (played by Chuck Norris) who tracked Mr. Pink down and is looking for his diamonds. Of course Mr. Pink doesn’t have the money anymore, having just lost it all on an ill-fated land development deal in Northern Iraq. And so to avoid being killed Mr. Pink is forced to team up with Chuck Norris’ immature surfer son. Will he be able to teach him the criminal ropes in time for the big score? Most likely not. (NOTE: I’m aware that at the end of the first Reservoir Dogs you can here Mr. Pink being shot dead by the cops. We’ll explain that all away with a line like. “I had to drop a few pigs before I could get away!” Whatever, that’s the writer’s problem!
TAGLINE: This ain’t no donkey show!
7) The Third Man 2: The Fourth Man
This time the title is the easiest thing. After killing his friend and general horrible guy Harry Lime (Orson Welles), Joseph Cotton’s character (who’s name I can’t remember) returns to America. Years and years pass and until he discovers that Harry Lime (played in Orson Welles absence by Chuck Norris) survived and is now selling cheap California wine. Wine so cheap and diluted that it doesn’t even get you drunk, no matter how much you drink. Small Pox vaccine is one thing but fucking with our wine supply. That just won’t stand.
TAGLINE: He’ll sell no wine before it’s time… TO DIE!!
8)JFK 2: RFK
We all know that John F. Kennedy was killed by a international conspiracy pissed off about how much sweet ass he was getting, but did you know that Robert F. Kennedy was murder in a plot to bring a sense of deliciously evil irony to the world? You didn’t? What are you taking stupid pills again? Well, in RFK a young go getter District Attorney (I don’t know why that’s capitalized) played by Chuck Norris, is assigned the Sirhan B. Sirhan’s murder trial (why would you name your son Sirhan if your last name is Sirhan? Fucking Palestinians!!). He meets opposition at every crossroads as a tale of murder, intrigue and conspiracy at the highest levels of state (Well, the highest levels of A state. Cause, you know, Robert was a senator, not a president. Get it? It’s a joke, asshole! Well, fuck you too!! Shithead!!) The judge will be played by the coach of the Philadelphia Eagles or Wilford Brimley, depending on shooting schedules.
TAGLINE: This time it’s personal
Okay. This Top Ten list only has eight. You got a problem with that? Hey, this website is free, go fuck yourself! Read more!
It's Ash Wednesday which is when Jesus, um, did this thing, um, with, ahhhhh and there was a fire... No seriously. It commemorates the day Jesus was hung over after Mardi Gras (Jesus was French)
I forget what it is. My grandmother once told me and I was like "Whatever, as long as I get to cut school!" Since then cutting out on my responsibilities has been a big part of Ash Wednesday. Except I don't go to Church because in my paranoid state I think the ash cross is a dead giveaway to anyone with a rifle and a Catholic grudge.
It's the one day of the year I feel Catholic. The one day that doesn't involve weddings or funerals. Don't get me wrong, I'm not turning into a pious man or anything. Although I'd be a good get for God. Maybe. We'll see what happens when I become a free agent. Read more!
I forget what it is. My grandmother once told me and I was like "Whatever, as long as I get to cut school!" Since then cutting out on my responsibilities has been a big part of Ash Wednesday. Except I don't go to Church because in my paranoid state I think the ash cross is a dead giveaway to anyone with a rifle and a Catholic grudge.
It's the one day of the year I feel Catholic. The one day that doesn't involve weddings or funerals. Don't get me wrong, I'm not turning into a pious man or anything. Although I'd be a good get for God. Maybe. We'll see what happens when I become a free agent. Read more!
Where is everyone? Did everybody go to work today? WQhat's wrong with you people - We should all be in cafes yelling at the New York Times metro section.
Get with it you assholes! Read more!
Get with it you assholes! Read more!
About me
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Mr. Sophisticate
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