Movie classics.

Recently my friend Joe asked me to write a list of my favorite "classic" movie that I would suggest he see. That is a real tough one. I had to decide what I considered classic and what I considered just amused my own strange sensibilities. I decided that the dictionaries definition of the word was best, IE: "Classic: A work recognized as definitive in its field" that works for me so let us now talk fields. No let's not talk fields, that will stretch this into an all night write and an all day read. I will just tell you a few of my classic picks that I will watch every time they are on, some of these are simply clumped by actors by the way. Oh, I will also not venture into the 80's or beyond.

That said, first their are the Marx Brothers, if Groucho and Chico never made you laugh then you have either never seen them in action, or you are a very boring person and must stay away from me. Then absolutely anything with Cary Grant in it, the man was the embodiment of what a Hollywood acting legend should be, Philadelphia Story(1940), His Girl Friday (1940) and Arsenic and Old Lace (1944)top the list of Grant movies for me.

I am a big fan of Basil Rathbone and Nigel Planer in the Sherlock Holmes series for m the 40's and 50's. I consider these must sees if you are a Homes fan that is. The Lady Killers(1955), the remake was good but the original was messed up and had Sir Alec Guinness in it. On the subject of Sir Guinness, the movie Murder by Death (1976), which he is in as well, is one of the greatest comedies of all time. Okay one foray into the 80's, Clue (1985) is the grand child of murder by death and must also be seen.

Now if you have a Steve McQueen movie anywhere that to, you must watch. The Great Escape (1963) The Cincinnati Kid(1965) and of course the Magnificent Seven (1960) top my list there. Since I am on the subject of the Magnificent Seven I should also point out its grand father, the Seven Samurai(1954) the Akira Kurosawa master piece see that also.

Okay this will take forever like this so what I will do is compile a list decade by decade and when it is done I will put it up for your perusal okay? sounds good.

Damn you Joe, there is not enough hours in the day for this kind of mad typing.

Here this will be fun and this way everyone can understand the "One of us" chant my friend Marty and I do to people on the street. Google the movie Freaks(1932) and stare in awe of the scene where the guy with no arms and no legs sloshes towards a person with a knife clenched in his teeth.

Toilet paper pets.

I had a thought the other day. Some of my friends and I were discussing activists like the ones on that show Whale Wars or those people you see at Green Peace rallies. These people take saving animals to an extreme, placing themselves in the line of fire so they can save a creature or two. Standing on a dingy between a spear gun and a mammal that forgot to evolve, leave the ocean and buy a digital watch (Thank you Douglas Adams), chaining themselves to trees to save a habitat and, I am sure, we have all seen the anti-fur protesters outside of your local Macy's, picketing and releasing Patchouli fumes into our ozone. It is these anti-fur folks that I have the biggest problem with. Not because of their tactics or motives but the fact that they are avoiding the most obvious play on their activist chessboard. So listen hippies and listen well, I will only explain this to you once.
The plan is simple. Go into the forest, find an cute, fuzzy animal that you wish to keep safe and vested and wipe it slowly across your anus. Yes you read it write, unless you're dyslexic, place that beloved, woodland critter betwixt your scrawny, fetid cheeks and give it a good knuckle drag and twist.
What is the purpose? If you can't guess, it's pretty simple. No up and coming parvenu would be caught wearing the skin of beast that was repeatedly raked on ones rectum (damn near killed 'um. that one is for my friends). Instead these people would be forced to move on to a more feces free cloth. Faux, non-pooped on fur springs to mind. If you have ever been in your bathroom, cleaning it after a party and discovered a strange looking scrunchy of toilet paper that seems to have a brown streak evident on its surface, you will remember the level three Haz-Mat containment devices you broke out to deal with it. Now picture wrapping said TP wad around your neck and wearing it to the regatta.
So come on hippies, start snatching and wiping. Sure you may get bitten or scratched. Maybe you will catch the rabies. Really thought, isn't that a small price to pay for the safety of a species? I say no. Now the simple fact that I am not in league with the activists, I do not condone nor disapproves of their actions, you may wonder what stake I have in all this. It's simple really. Watching a bunch of hippies get mauled by wild animals they are trying to shove into their cracks would be really funny and the videos would sell more that Girls Gone Wild and Bum Fights combined.

Here is a slogan:

Dependence on fur will surely shrink, just wipe your ass with a mink.

Eleven lessons TV has taught me.

Someone recently told me that I watch too much television. They said it rots the brain and doesn't do anything for mental, or spiritual growth (hippies). I say that is untrue. Television can not only help you break free of social taboos but it can also expand your mind and teach you about tolerance. So I give you eleven things I have learned from various TV shows throughout my life.

1) Miami Vice taught me that Florida was a tolerant state being that an interracial, gay couple could become the top vice detectives in city laden with machismo and Glenn Frye music.

2) C.S.I. has taught me about the dangers of being a hot woman in any major city in the U.S. Now I know if any of my female friends go to Vegas, New York or Miami (again) they will be raped and killed within the first five minutes of their arrival if they are not prepared properly. Avoid poorly lit hotel rooms, alleyways and the desert, oh and pools after hours and you should survive.

3) I never learned anything from the show Growing Pains but, years later, when I discovered The Way of the Master, an evangelical website, hosted by Kirk Cameron (Mike Seaver), I learned that not all child stars turn to drugs, booze and sex and end up dieing young in a gutter but some of them should.

4) Syndicated television has taught me the importance of actual swear words when trying to act like a tough guy. "Yippie ki-yay Mister Falcon" and "Why don't you suck my donkey?" just don't cut it for me.

5) The media, with all it's biases and back and fourths, can still really come together as one and truly help out when a hot, white girl vanishes.

6) In the early years of television, most bathrooms did not have toilets. It was considered to be poor taste to show one on television. That is why I have a TV in my bathroom, as a subtle protest to the old ways. Also I poop a lot and hate missing Spongebob.

7) The British are way more relaxed than us when it comes to TV. In the 80's in America, it was thought to be pushing the envelope to say the word ass. At the same time in the U.K., you could regularly hear the words twat, assface, bitch, feck, arse and semprini.

8) There is always room for Jell-o and there is always room for naked jell-o wrestling as long as Bill Cosby has nothing to do with it. Just to cover this once more, since I have in other blogs. If I had stolen my dads car like Theo did in one episode of the Cosby Show, I would have gotten a hell of a lot worse than just grounded, flayed alive and fed to ants is more like it. Stupid nuclear family B.S.

9) Good beers are rarely advertised but ass beers are everywhere. What does that tell you about the tastes of the average American?

10) The show Lock-up Raw has finally helped even the playing field for suburban kids that want to be gangsta but don't know enough about prison slang to be accepted by real thugs. Plus, finally my shank making skills can improve.

11) Last of all, television has taught me that if I concentrate hard enough, if I stare long enough, if I strain my mind to it's breaking point, I can delete all thought from my head for at least a half an hour at a time. I can have a brief respite from the rage and evil that wells up within me when I have to face the stupidity of the average Gump on the street. Then I see a commercial for Oxi Clean or Disorono on ice and the monster is right back in my throat.

Thanks for watching.

Hey Mr. Deejay just stop already.

Just a quick thought that has I need to get out there. I work in a warehouse. About 98% of the people I work with are male. Absolutely all of them are old enough to be out of high school. At our work we are aloud to listen to the radio. Okay, that out of the way, let me tell you of my sorrow. These people tend to only listen to two radio stations. Either the Nu-metal, jock rock station or the local tweenie, hip-hop/ top forty station. Being that I walk around this warehouse about a million times a day, I have no choice in radio stations and, I am serious here, it is always the same stations every day. My questions, feel free to answer if you like.
Is Metallica really still that popular? That's a big one for me. I grew up listening to a lot of metal and in the mid to late eighties they were pretty good but after the massive sell out into Gapfaggery, aren't they just washed up? I was never happy with them and that damned Black Album but the song Unforgiven two, they can stick that right back up the horses ass they pulled it from. I love Kill Em All, Ride the Lightening and it's ilk but now they are just sad and way too popular. Dethklok rocks way harder than they do now and Dethklok is a cartoon. Sad, pathetic, pathetisad.
Now I come to Pink. Ah the perky minx, her hair all mussed and her moles now seemingly non-existent. Boy, she is popular so popular that apparently some damn radio stations feel the need to play her newest song "So What" about a jillion times a day and make a remix just to change it up a little. Look, Pink is hot. She seems like the insane girl you had a crush on in high school but never made a move on because you heard a story about her burning an ex-boyfriends penis with a cigarette. Now, I hate her songs but not as much as I hate certain other pop diva music but I am seriously wondering how many more times I can hear that song in the background of my work before I jump in front of a forklift. Plus, no Pink. you are not a rock star, you are a pop star. It's different, so stop trying to blur the lines. Not taht they aren't overly blurred as it is. The fact that grown, working class men feel the need to listen to this is dumbfounding to me.
okay, parting thoughts about radio play.
If you like Linkin' Park, go pick up an old 311 album, not that they were that good either but far more bearable.
If you like Metallica's new album, go but Master of Puppets it is a far superior album with no retarded ballads that do not belong in a metal album.
If you are an Offspring fan, go buy early Pennywise. That way you can listen to the sweet sounds of copy write infringement.
If you are a Disturbed Fan, go stick your head up the ass of a gassy babboon, the sound is clearer and more melodic.
If you are a fan of Kid Rock, go find something really high and jump off of it.
I just hadda say that.

Bye

On the topic of babies.

I decided I had to chime in on this subject. The other day I walked into the break room at work and witnessed a circle of men and women surrounding one of the guys from the warehouse, shaking his hand and congratulating him. I edged closer to see what the big deal was. A promotion? a new car? A firmer penis in just five weeks? No. none of them. The big deal that he was accepting the kudos for was simply this, his wife was pregnant. Upon making this discovery I quickly tried to excuse myself from the room, knowing that, if I did not escape, I would be confronted with the rosy shouldered sperm donor. I did not escape, instead I was moved toward this man. He looked at me, expecting me to express my awe at his accomplishment. "My wife's pregnant", he said sappily. "Really?", I replied, "I brought a hoagie for lunch". There was suddenly a silence in the room, the kind of silence that is almost loud. Then some glares and uncomfortable laughter and then I was out of the room. I thought I had escaped but I was wrong. Later that day I realized that I was getting sneared at by a few of the local clucking hen party. I asked a friend if he knew why and he told me that I was very rude about the pregnancy news. Okay, i do not feel I was rude and I make no apologies for what I said. The fact is that people have been having babies for a while now, actually since the dawn of man I would venture. Maybe nine months after the dawn of man anyway. In fact, next to breathing and pooping, making babies may be the next easiest thing for a person to do. I don't congratulate people on eating or drinking water, that is, unless they eat the worlds biggest sandwich, then I might be inspired to cheer for them. Pregnancy though, that takes no skill, no training of body or mind and no education. In fact, babies are usually formed from an accident and that accident usually involves alcohol. If you can do it drunk and it doesn't involve balancing, it is not deserving of a slap on the back. Now, I would congratulate the mother but not because she was pregnant but after she had the kid, that is impressive. Think of the biggest dump you've ever taken, multiply it by fifteen and imagine it had shoulders and screamed, that is impressive. But there is no way I am gonna congratulate the guy. He did the easiest job in the world and he wants to be recognized for it? Screw him, oh way to dunk that cookie in milk Edger, here's a cigar. Dumb. I think it is way more difficult to go through life and not have a baby. I congratulate my friends when they don't impregnate anyone or anything. I think I will start throwing a yearly party. a "Hey you didn't have a baby" shower. With adult beverages and no stupid footy pajamas, unless that is what the strippers choose to wear to the party.

If this isn't wrong, nothing is.

As you all know, we are about to switch Presidents. As per normal, when one President is about to leave office, he tends to pass as a few legislation's on his way out the door. Our current Pres. is no exception. Mr. Bush is trying to pass many, many little laws and legislation's before he gets the Presidential boot. Some of these are loosening restrictions on environmental and safety issues, which I consider bad hoodoo. Yet the worst thing, in my mind, (not to be mistaken for the actual "worst thing in my mind", which is sick and dark, like a chocolate bar mad of pure evil) is the Presidents power to elect people into certain offices. Alas a chair had recently opened on the National Arts Council and guess who Bush appointed, with the help of the Senate I might add. That's right kiddies, Lee (God Bless the USA) Greenwood. Yes, that Lee Greenwood, the butt monkey that actually sang that song at the Republican National Convention while wearing one of those, just super tacky American flag Leather jackets. Now, I am not opposed to people and their flag lusts but anyone, anywhere that puts on a flag, shirt, jacket, dress, or hat is a screaming douche in my book. I actually believe that the people that wear these items, wear them not out of patriotism but to avoid gay men. They know that any gay man worth his flames would not come within twenty feet of something that ostentatious ( note: I do not believe this applies to Hawaiian shirts). So now Lee Greenwood is going to be on the board that heads the NEA or the National Endowment for the Arts. The folks that help keep artist from completely starving, not that some of them shouldn't starve. I am a huge fan of starving, for instance, anyone that makes art from poop. Sorry, I retract that, if you can make a number two that truly conveys your emotions at that point in time, you should definitely get funding. Even more so if you can poop statues. God poop is funny. Lee Greenwood is not, however and now he has a say in who gets funding. Alright. can't wait to see the NASCAR commemorative Plate Museum or the Painting of dirty hick descending from his double wide.
I know I am being mean, music is an art form too right? Yes it is but so is a black and white photo of a young boy being sodomized by a pickle if its hanging up in the Guggenheim but that ain't art my friends, that's just a pervert getting away with it. That pretty much sets up how I feel about Lee Greenwood, just a pervert getting away with it. Come on he was just another two dollar whore until he jerked off the conservatives with that god awful song that is apparently meant to fill us all with pride in our country but just ends up making you feel like you ate a pie full of vomit. I guess if you toss a powerful enough salad it pays off in the end and old Lee's toungue will probably be numb until the new year from licking al the brown stamps in the White Hoes and the Senate. This all goes to show you. The rednecks are running the establishment. Really, I grew up around these people, they can't be trusted with matches or sexy animals. How can we trust them with the future of art?

A final point. It turns out that Lee was in rehab for a cocaine addiction in the early sixties. Wait, that was right around the time that George Bush Junior was getting into all his trouble with drugs too... and the puzzle pieces just fall into place don't they?

On to the Anti-Christ.

I have been hearing a lot of thingy about the Anti-Christ lately. You know, people saying that Obama is the Anti-Christ because he is a political figure, was unknown up until recently and was born in Hawaii. Apparently the AC is supposed to come from the water and I guess that implies Hawaii. Well, I decided to research this Anti-Christ business to help smooth it all out for you, my readers.

I began my research in the Bible. I was using a King James Bible because it is the most popular version in our country. Being that deciphering the Bible can be a mind numbing and tedious task, I grabbed myself a little glass of bourbon to help me relax. Two hours and a lot of bourbon later I was researching my television, face it, the Bible may be the greatest story ever told but it is really lacking in gunfights car chases and cleavage. I actually think that adding these very things to the Bible would dramatically increase church goership. The Ten Commandments was a pretty successful movie but if the Pharaoh had been played by Steve McQueen in a 1970 Boss 302. It would have been tha much better and instead of all those shawls and birkas, how about Rossario Dawson showing a little sweaty slave girl boobage? Maybe a velociraptor or two for dramatic tension. That could only make it better. Now I realize that is all far fetched but Hollywood can do some amazing CG stuff these days and, as I had been reading through all that wacky "Beast rising from the ocean" stuff, what I wrote didn't sound as far fetched at the time.

Now back to my research. Originally I was pretty sure that the Anti-Christ was Namor, the Sub-Mariner. After all he comes from the ocean and does have a lot of power, also he is reletively unknown, not like that flashy Aqua-man. Then I realized that he doesn't have any really powerful religious figure to help him control the world and the Anti-Christ needs that. I actually believe that his tag line "Sub-Mariner" either meens he is a gay bottom to a Navy navigator or, he delivers sandwiches in Atlantis for a living. It's hard to say, the Sub in Sub-Mariner could have several different definitions. One thing is for sure though, he donned the first faux-hawk.

More booze, more TV and suddenly I had a feeling that Higgins from Magnum P.I. was the Anti-Christ. He had his hell hounds, Zues and Apollo. A secret identity, Robin Masters. He lives in Hawaii, from the ocean. He rode in a flying demon, TC's chopper. It was all coming together. Then I realized that he also, did not have a strong religious leader to help him on his way to power.

I decide that I alone could not get to the bottom of this mystery so I gave up and ate an Ego in my hands, no plate, bourbon does that to a man. Then I fell asleep on the couch. Research done. Booze gone. Bible in the fireplace along with a stuffed Garfield window sticky and someones hat. God I love a good whiskey.