Seeing Batman Gives You Aids

Sometimes I like to compare the classics...like which film handled the transition of Hong Kong from hateful British back to the Chinese better, Rush Hour or Knock Off. I know what you're thinking, "Yes! Excellent! An excuse to go watch both those great movies again!"

I'm certainly not going to dissuade anyone from time well spent, so after you do that and clean yourself off, cause you'll undoubtedly soil yourself with joy, come back and read the rest of this shit.

All done babycakes? Good for you! Now then, Rush Hour kind of skimps the transition and jumps to Los Angeles, so it kind of loses right there...my that was a quick debate!

Knock Off gives you plenty of Van Dammage, and a great closing theme song, and encapsulates thousands of years of Chinese culture and 100 years of british imperialism and misrule into a taut 90 minutes, and comes replete with Deuce Bigalow and the always welcome and angrily sexy Lela Rochon.

That's not to say the Rush Hour films are not without their charms! Sure that black dude who's name escapes me has an irritating quality with that high pitched voice and his penchant for breaking into song and dance, but there is something about an asshole cop who gives his superiors a lot of shit that appeals to me. Like Martin Lawrence in Blue Streak. Fuck yes! Belie Dat!

That reminds me, it's been months since I've watched Gang Related, which is quite simply the greatest piece of work Tupac ever produced, and I curse his assassins for depriving me of a sequel. Such is its greatness that I love it even though Miss Rochon plays a stripper who never even gets naked! Jim Belushi gives his best perf since he was the Principal...or even the high school chess coach with the hot temper.

When the lemmings are off watching the new Batman, which I am boycotting on account of Heath Ledger's split ends...jeez, super villain criminal or not, there is simply no excuse for the state of that man's hair. What kind of international superstar are you when your mane is perpetually frizzy and skanked out? A pet theory of mine...Heath will be out of Hollywood by the end of the decade on account of his hair!

What's that? He's dead?

So anyway instead of Batman, I'm going to rent Gang Related, which is better than Gone Baby Gone, which got real stupid and predictable the longer it went on, though those trashy Bostoners were always entertaining? Those fuckers sure do talk funny.

Hmm a thought just occurred to me...even though Heath has bad hair, and is dead, I bet he still looks better than Maggie Gyllenhaal. Hollywood you sly fuckers. Come out with both barrels of Bale and Nolan and try to sneak this shit by me? Lela Rochon gets a couple of crap roles before being sent out to pasture and you foist Maggie G "probably has a Unit cause she's half a man" yllenhaal on me? Let me get this straight you clowns...millionaire playboy Bruce Fucking Wayne, who's also Batman, and has some real cool shit, and looks like Xtian Bale, and probably has no problem picking up hot trim left and right....is chasing after Maggie Gyllenhaal?

really? I'm supposed to pay $10.50 and believe that? Belie dat??

I can swallow the super villains and the utility belts and all that special effects shit, but if I guzzled a gallon of detergent and became as retarded as our president I wouldn't buy that shit for a second. Oh, and Aaron Eckhardt, a big shot rising star politician, is also on Maggie's shit. Wow.

Funny cause in real life if Aaron was the manager of a Payless at some shit ass mall in Akron and hated his life, and Xtian worked in the Duncan Donuts at the food court and wanted to hang himself after every shift, and Maggie was a clerk at the Gap, those two guys would still walk past her store every day for a year and never notice her even if she waved her pussy at them from the display window.

Danny Devito wouldn't fuck her.

Whatever Hollywood, everyone knows the real talent goes into porn these days...

Where is Tamara Feldman?? She's cute and the cabal that runs Hollywood must love her surname...why the fuck isn't she getting those kind of roles?

Who am I kidding?? Every time I get mad at Hollywood Brett Ratner gives me another gem and all is forgiven!

I wonder who Kelly Hu is eating out right now?

Sometimes things suck

Sometimes you find a shiny penny on the ground, and sometimes the stripper forgets how many songs it was and you get a free dance, and during those times you think, "gee whillickers, maybe there is a god, and maybe he isn't such an asshole after all."

And the stripper gives you this look and the jig is up and she is all like, "what the fuck are you so happy about you clown? Did I give you a free dance by mistake?"

And then the bouncer is grabbing you by your sweat pants and throwing you into the alley out back, where some homeless guy stabs you with a knife coated in stale peanut butter.

That is the way the cookie of life crumbles, and this zany roller coaster of existence we are on goes up and down and off the rails and runs over some nuns. What I'm trying to say is that I was on the Internet and I found a 2.98 cent copy of the movie in which Vanity, dear sweet lovely slutty Vanity, plays a phone sex operator, and I think to myself, dear god, this is the greatest bargain in the history of everything, even more than when I got Action Jackson for 4 bucks.

So the DVD comes and I'm all excited, but after watching the film, Night Caller, I was hit with a wave of disappointment. But why?? How could a film in which Vanity stars as a phone sex operator possibly fail???

It was almost as if my enemies spent tens of thousands of dollars to make a film just to disappoint me. Somehow Fred "the Hammer" Williamson managed to cast Vanity in the role of a dirty slutty beautiful phone sex operator and...

and...

let her keep her clothes on throughout the film! OK some charlatans are saying, you don't need to be naked to do phone sex...well maybe if you are content just to earn enough bucks to pay the rent...but my girl Vanity is a professional, and she drives a nice ride and wears hot slutty expensive high class whore type threads, and thus needs to really sell the shit out of these calls...something one can't do fully dressed. As well I know my girl would really get into whatever role she was playing, on the phone or on film, and probably insist on getting naked, but Fred must be gay and I curse the Kansas City Chiefs in perpetuity for his pathetic inability to have her remove her clothes.

As if her unnakedness were not disappointing enough...for a phone sex operator she sure keeps it clean! There isn't one scene with her hands down her panties and her mouth letting loose a stream of filth the likes of which would melt convents. In 52 Pick-Up she is underdressed in virtually all her scenes, and masturbates gratuitously...to say nothing of her uttering the immortal..."You came here looking for something, and it ain't my pussy."

Shit they just don't have dialogue like that anymore. I mean when was the last time that old sweaty skank Judi Dench uttered something even half as beautiful? She hasn't! The most memorable thing she uttered in her last pompous crap fest was, "I'm weary Countess...I'm old, wizened, and with my overactive sweat gland I smell like Mena Suvari looks." (Merchant Ivory really shot their wad years ago in my opinion)

Hope was fading and then dashed for good when incredibly Vanity's character was killed by none other than Flash Gordon! You gotta be shitting me...in 52 Pick Up she is killed in a great death scene by the always menacing and odious John Glover, and after the audience has been satiated with copious amounts of Vanity's naked body and slut talk, but in this film she is weakly shot in the back by a zero like Flash! As if that wasn't bad enough the movie ends with a very gay fight/romp on the sand between Gary Busey and Fred the Hammer, followed by another tender and touching moment between Williamson and Peter Fonda...Peter Fucking Fonda! Vanity dies, fully clothed and with not a single dirty thought ever uttered, and the last five minutes of the movie are spent with three dickheads goofing around together...holy shit its like coming across a gold mine and trying to excavate it with a spoon and 2 gay buddies. After a few hours you won't have much gold, but your ass is going to hurt like hell. Maybe you can stab yourself to death with the spoon, or better yet find Fred the Hammer and end him.

Summer is a fine time for retching

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I vomit on your picnic

Summer is here and before the glut of shark attacks and heat stroke deaths fill our thoughts, hearts, and paper headlines I thought I'd share some musings on all things sunshine and lemonade.

Quick note to all you assassins out there...I know it's hot and high powered rifles are heavy, but you're running out of time if you want your shot to count for anything. I'm not saying that having Bush and Cheney last 8 years without an attempt on their lives is the greatest stain this country's honor has ever suffered, but it's pretty fucking close. Let's get cracking before labor day shall we sociopaths?

If 8 years of gross incompetence and royal fucking up by our government aren't enough to drive you to want to crack some skulls open with high velocity rounds, may I suggest venturing into the cool confines of your local multiplex and checking out any number of shit summer fare excreted on the world by those ass clowns in Hollywood?

The Love Guru is such an unfunny colossal piece of garbage it's caused me to have a recurring dream of Mike Myers getting suctioned up inside an elephants asshole, which is then petrified, forcing him to spend centuries wallowing in a giant beast's rectum. Only then could he begin to himself endure the pain he has inflicted on humanity for that fucking movie. Never has Alba worn more clothes, never has a film been less funny.

Save of course for Get Smart. Hey Anne Hathaway...my dick just sent you a telegram...he's not interested! Steve Carrel you stupid fucking cocksucker...I think so little of you I know I spelled your name wrong and I'm not even going to try and look it up to spell it right...though anyone who wishes to do that should Google, "OVERRATED DICKHEAD WHO TURNED A MEDIOCRE SHOW INTO SOMETHING HORRIBLE"

Luckily foreigners are still making movies, so we don't have to swallow only the feces Hollywood squirts onto the screen. Those fucking Czechs foisted Beauty in Trouble on us...in short, the chick was an ugly skanked out piece of trash, and all the other characters were annoying assholes who made me long for the Russians to come back with the tanks...and unlike those pussy Chinese, the Russians would have no problem running some civilians over, cameras or no cameras.

Speaking of the Chinese...they make good movies like they branch out with new hairstyles...not very often...Lust, Caution ...Jesus Christ...why did it take so long for nothing to happen? A bunch of stupid Chinese kids spend years plotting on how to kill one guy? I thought these people were supposed to be smart? How bout, there's the dude, shoot him? That's a good plan, as opposed to, spend years studying the guy, have a virgin learn to be a whore, fuck him dozens of times over the course of years, and then somehow don't kill him. If only they had just shown him Lust Caution, he would have died of boredom! HAHAHAHAA

That jest puts me in a good mood and I remember Too Fast Too Furious: Tokyo Drift, which was a fine fucking film featuring the future Vanity, Nathalie Kelley, who is awesome, in the way puppies without Aids are awesome...which is to say the best way. There is a lot of drifting, so it's good that it's not one of those movies where the title is grossly misleading. They are in fact in Tokyo, and they drift the shit out of that place. At the risk of spoiling things, the bad guy gets his comeuppance, and that tool Vin Diesel only shows up at the end, when the good will has already been built up so you don't mind his ugly fucking face fouling up the screen. As the credits role I like to imagine the Yakuza cutting off his stupid head and bronzing it, so as to make a statue they call, "Sylvester Stallone if he were even uglier and more retarded".

One final note...those stupid fuckers at Anheuser Busch have a new ad slogan, touting their beer's "drinkability". Funny but that slogan doesn't make me want to drink bud, it makes me want to shatter a bottle of that piss and shove the shards into the cunt who came up with that stupid fucking ad. I wonder if he would even be able to say that stupid word with the jagged long neck of that shitty beer embedded in his throat. Nobody uses that word. There isn't a person on the planet who says, "shit, Miller tastes pretty fucking good, but goddamn that Bud has some real drinkability." It's like some fuckhead fell into a vat of that amber colored piss at the brewery and channeled that fat fucking moron John Madden. "drinkability!"

Thank god the Belgians bought that fucking place. I hope they treat the ad people like they did the Congolese...! Or maybe some crazed Walloon will burn it down.

Day Dawns Fresh with Miracles, Smells Like Poon to Me

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Miss Tyra Banks Takes Over The World

Will Tyra Banks ever embrace soccer? Of course not. And as Tyra goes America goes, at least when it comes to that pathetic excuse for a sport that largely consists of whiners and pussies flopping around a wasted patch of perfectly good grass. If only the idiots that inhabit large parts of this country would follow her lead when it comes to Nascar, a grotesque collection of fuel wasting rednecks and morons, whom Tyra longs to destroy. At least I hope she does, and in my fevered dreams she is a giant along the lines of Godzilla, smashing race tracks underfoot and blocking the sun with her massive boobs so the cars all crash in the darkness and the sport withers and dies.

Recently I had the opportunity to interview Miss Tyra Banks, America's sweetheart, and was thrilled to hear her thoughts on Schopenhauer, lemonade and soccer.

"So Miss Tyra Banks, my sources tell me you hate soccer."

"Of course I do. Bunch of skinny pussies flopping around. The game is so boring the fans have to entertain themselves by singing gay ass songs all game."

"What about Nascar?"

"I was kind of proud of America for rejecting soccer. I thought, maybe the idiots who make up the bulk of this country's population aren't so stupid after all? Then someone showed me a Nascar race...I think it was Jay Alexander. I thought it was a Japanese jokey game show or something. These idiots just drive around for three hours? What a waste of gas! Are there any rubber trees in Burma left? Cause those races must burn through an awful lot of rubber. Stupid bunch of fucking rednecks."

"Wow...you got some mouth on you Miss Tyra Banks. How bout baseball and apple pie?"

"I don't want to offend Oprah, cause she's my girl, but those Cub fans are a bunch of namby pamby douchebags. Lovable losers? There ain't no such thing in Tyra's world. Losers are to be condemned, ignored, or crushed. Or maybe all three...just like all the rejects on top model."

"Why do you fucking hate the goddamn Cubs fans so much?"

"I like the way you ask a question. Fierce. I've hated them since they adopted a "curse". Almost like they were jealous of the Red Sox being as big a bunch of losers as they were. Like they wanted to be the best at sucking. The Red Sox win the World Series in 1918, sell Babe Ruth, the greatest player ever, to the NEW YORK Yankees of all teams, who go on to be the greatest franchise in the history of sports. The Red Sox suffer from the curse of the Bambino. That's a good curse."

"And the Cubs?"

"They win the series in 1908. In 1945 they're in the Series again, and some Cubs fan tries to bring his pet goat to the game. The usher says, "Get the fuck outta here asshole! You can't bring your fucking goat into the stadium." Dude curses the Cubs! Huh?? Does that make any fucking sense?"

"Not to me Miss Tyra Banks."

"Of course not. Why would a Cubs fan curse his own team? Cause of the goat? Was the usher supposed to let the goat in? So he could shit all over the place and trample a child or something? How does that lead to a curse? If I try to bring my pet python Nigel to a Knicks game, and Garden security says I can't, do I curse the Knicks?"

"No way Miss Tyra Banks, you're too classy for that."

"That's right. And another thing...that goat bullshit was in 1945...they hadn't won since 1908...but the curse started in 45'...what the fuck was the problem for the 40 or so years between their last world series win and the goat thing? What kind of curse starts 40 years into a losing streak??"

"A bullshit made up curse Miss Tyra Banks."

"Exactly. You know what I'm talking about."

Listen to what Miss Tyra Banks says you assholes!

Funkin' Donuts

Of course after my morning piss of victory my usual routine involves throwing a brick at the first person I see...a ritual which I find captures the spirit of that great Robin Williams movie Cadillac Man, in which he urged his young mechanic apprentices to "Seize the Day". By hurling the brick I am making a statement, "Hey world, I ain't gonna take any of your fucking shit today!"

The sun, if he has the balls to show himself, usually hangs silently in the sky in a cowardly gesture of acquiescence. Then I put on some pants and go about my business, which of late has been varied and of dubious legality. My boycott of Dunkin Donuts for instance. Frustratingly this heroic undertaking has been usurped by a counter boycott, which, although sharing the same enemy, in this case the enemy of my enemy is not my friend, but rather a collection of dim witted assholes. I suppose that maxim is not as catchy, but as it is closer to the facts I will continue to use it.

It appears as though the cute little scarf Rachel Ray wears in donut ads resembles something Palestinians wear shortly before they blow shit up in that godforsaken hellhole somewhere east of New Jersey and across an ocean. Hers is paisley, and a scarf, which she wears while holding some iced coffee in front of some pretty trees and flowers, as if to say, "wow, I really like this fucking coffee", but according to some the purpose the donut people had in mind was to show solidarity with Yassar Arafat and my keyboard is refusing to even finish the rest of that thought it is so ridiculous.

The great tragedy of all this is that my boycott, which is of course based on the soundest of principles, is now clouded by this simple minded nonsense. We should not boycott the donut shop cause Rachel's delightful print reminds some simpletons of bombers, but because they feature Rachel Ray herself! Truly it is the scarf who should be most offended by this, and if I was that scarf's agent I would lobby for it to be tied around a bomb and thrown into an orphanage, as surely that fate has more glory and honor than adorning the neck of an overrated TV chef.

Come to think of it I've never really watched Rachel Ray, and know very little about the woman, who quite possibly could be very nice, but my gut tells me that her ubiquity cannot be justified, and her cheese sandwich making ability can in no way be so good that she seems to be on TV 40 hours a week and is becoming a bigger celebrity than Sofia Vergara or Jessie Camacho can ever hope to be. That does not seem fair.

Could this chick's food really be that much better than a can of soup? The average slice of pizza? I seriously fucking doubt it. And her greatest crime of all? She is not good looking.

So then, I demand that she be replaced in all her future advertisements by Padma, and then and only then will Dunkin Donuts enjoy my patronage, not that I ever bought coffee there before, or donuts for that matter, cause such food is part of the reason why America is populated by such a plethora of disgusting fat sacks of shit.

Perhaps Rachel can make amends for her plain looks, (doubtful), and advanced age, (impossible), and fashion one of those flaming explosive neck ties around Sharon Stone, who has recently taken a page out of the Pat Roberston nutjob playbook, and blamed the earthquake in China on karma. There there Sharon, just go back 20 years and show your pussy like a good girl. No one wants to hear you talk dearest! Rachel could cook up some extra large donuts, slip them over Sharon's head, adorn them with a paisley scarf for fun, and then light it up!

If my demands are not met I will throw more bricks, and may wind up boycotting all English language programming, including the NBA finals, since the officials are conspiring to put the Lakers in again. In the inspiring words of Ben Affleck, "You're suspect!"

Affleck doesn't need to make sense and neither do I.