Hippies and Soccer Mom's Need Not Apply

The biggest complaint I hear about my second favorite sport is as follows:

"Hockey's not even a real sport, there's too much fighting."

My rebuttle is this:

"Screw you Nancy, go to the ballet. You don't like our sport? Don't watch. My seat is empty for Stars on Ice, feel free to take it."

This is a classic example of the Moral Majority (SIC) talkin' out of their asses about something they haven't even taken the time to learn about. I can go into poker, drug use, prostitution, hip hop fashion and guns in later posts, but right now I'm talking about hockey you hoser.

The first myth is that they are all thugs. Bullshit, they are all tough to be sure. Even Guy Lafleur, The Flower as we called him South of the Border, isn't someone I'd want to knuckle up against. But they are not all thugs. Wayne Gretzky, Mario Lamieux, Sidney Crosby, Gordie Howe and the afore mentioned Lafleur...These boys posess unhuman skill and grace. Are you going to tell me they are thugs?

The second myth is that they all fight. Even in the days of "Old Tyme Hockey" not everyone fought. That's just silly. Someone scored. And certainly as the teams are designed today, every team has an enforcer who is hired specifically to serve this purpose. I propose to you that Wayne Gretzky would not be mythically known as The Great One, if lesser skilled opponents did not have the fear of Marty McSorley instilled in them. You see, the NHL, and other professional hockey leagues in North America have made the decision to let the players police the game themsleves, for better or for worse. The fans respect it, and the critics should too.

Third myth. It ruins the enjoyment of the game. Well Sally, 18,000 are on their feet in any arena when a fight breaks out in hockey. We'll have to disagree with you on this one. You may say we have a blood lust, and maybe we do. Fuck your opinion. We also understand that when Donald Brashear would toe up to Ty Domi, they were two willing participants letting everyone else in the ice know what would happen to them if the tried cheap shot Mats Sundin or Saku Koivu. And don't even think about running my goalie you high stickin', low tippin', donut eatin', cheap gas buyin' Gordie. We love these guys, and they earn it.

Now, for those of you who understand, I originally intended this to be a post about the greatest enforcer ever; the one and only Rob Ray. This favorite son of Western New York and Southern Ontario was given an A to put on his sweater because our beloved Sabres understand how important his role was on the team.

Few players impact a game to such a degree that the sport has to change the rules because they are so good at what they do it's just not fair to the rest of 'em. In Rayzor's case, it is now a penalty if you do not have your sweater anchored onto your equipment. This was done because Rayzor had the uncanny ability to rid himself of his jersey during a fight so that his opponent had less to grab onto as he was taking piston like punches from Rayzor's right. He was knockin' guys twice his size silly.

Number 32 is a future head coach in the NHL, too. (I can only hope for my Sabres) He is an all time favorite in my hometown of Buffalo, NY. We are blue collar and proud. We respect the working man. Rayzor embodies our ethic, and remains our hero to this day. Below is a nice exhibition of his work.




respectfully submitted,
Z

I'm Not a Sicko, There's a Plate in My Head

Z's Martina Hingis stalking post reminded me that it's been a while since we've covered any other professional athletes out here in Intravenusland. To help rectify the situation, I'd like to say a few words about one of the great heroes of the pre-PC days gone by: ring legend Reggie "The Crusher" Lisowski.

Lisowski (1926-2005) is probably the only wrestler I would want to be like when I grow up. His training regimen for a match reportedly consisted of downing Polish sausages with beer (diet) and benchpressing barmaids and other "dollies" with morally casual attitudes (exercise). If you think I'm making this stuff up, press click here to read the fine Washington Post obit of this he-man mat legend.

In 1964, Minneapolis teenagers the Novas recorded a song about Lisowski with the somewhat novel title of "The Crusher" (later famously covered by noted cultural anthropologists the Cramps). In 2008, this sub-two minute ditty is still considered one of the greatest garage punk songs ever by none other than yours truly; in fact, I'd say it's particularly wonderful listening for anyone who feels "Louie Louie" might be too overproduced.

I've probably said enough for you turkeynecks out there to get a small picture of what the Big Lisowki was all about. However, for a whiff of the true Crusher pheromones in all their blonde-maned and bolo punching glory, check out the period promo below and then the homage to the man set to that great rockin' Novas tune belower.


Mr. Awesome: The Crusher Speaks His Mind About Bruno Sammartino


One Fan's Video Eye Gouge on YouTube

Why David Cross Matters (Part III)

Dear Readers,

To usher in the New Year, I'd like to submit another two classic Mr. Show clips. Each is a gigantic rip on the metal music scene.

Enjoy.

-TRM

Doodle The Wiggle? An Open Letter to the Doctor

Dear Dr. Demented,

I have to ask-- after seeing the character on the right, what made you want to seek out more pictures? Granted, the angel on the left is a pleasant surprise, but I honestly would have stopped the kiddie DVD way before that level of curiosity set in. That outfit looks like something from a John Wayne Gacy painting. Is that what the Canuks are watching after Deep Space DeGrassi and Degrassi Voyager are over?

What's that all aboot?

-TRM

I'm Not Really a Stalker, I Only Play One on the Internet

After spending a fun filled New Year's Eve with The Red Man, RLo and others, it was time to head back to the Buff. As I arrived in Logan Airport's Terminal C on a cold New Year's night, I noticed only a few feet away Former WTA #1 ranked Martina Hingis. At first, I had to do a double take because she was much taller than I expected. Of course, after watching her compete for the better part of the last decade against a literal army of Amazons, you can understand my surprise.

Now, what was Martina "I own my own private jet" Hingis doing in Terminal C? Good question. Maybe she needs to be frugal in retirement and can only afford no more than first class these days. No doubt she just popped in from international arrivals in Terminal D and was making her connection to what I imagined to be Aspen, for some reason.

Anyway, after my double take, I must have had that air of recognition on my face because as I caught her eye, she stopped ever so breifly and threw me a smile, as if to say, "Yes, I am...", but then quickly turned, again as if to say, "but I don't want to sign any autographs, and you look like one of the men I got a restraining order against when I received your letter after my frist Austrailian Open victory in 1997 when I was only 16 you dirty old bastard perv."

Now, in my defense, the whole letter thing was just a big misunderstanding. First of all, there was a typo. As I tried to connect with her on the 'elite athete' tip, the letter SHOULD have read, 'I'm a big "bowler"'. And secondly, after the photographic evidence below, can you blame me for asking if she has a lot of fun with big balls?




Respectfully submitted,
Z

PS - Remeber, she smiled first. I still have a chance!

The Film Version of the Paris to Dakar Rally

Don Cheadle Superstar

While spending time with the folks out in California recently, the Argentinean hottie and I "went native" in between doing the usual touristy things like visiting Santa Barbara, scarfing down on enormous quantities of quality Mexican food, enjoying sunshine in December, etc. Yes, friends, we participated in my parents' custom of watching one movie each night from my dad's ginormous collection of good, bad and ugly DVDs (mostly purchased new at Costco and used at Hollywood Video for anyone wondering where he finds the damn things). In honor of my dad's unusual but cinematically ambitious retirement regimen, here is a one-line review of each movie in the order in which I think we watched them. Since only one of us needs to suffer for my art, feel free to walk out at any point during this exercise as my mom often does when subjected to a particularly unwise video purchase.

Blades of Glory: This was actually funnier than I would have thought, but it's not easy being the son of the world's biggest Will Ferrell fan.

Balls of Fury: The lovely Maggie Q aside, this ping-pong crime caper (you read that right) might have been even worse than the dreaded Kung Fu Hustle if such a thing is humanly possible.

Respiro: One of the few films I actually got to pick to watch, this wrenching Italian drama about a bipolar mom and her beautiful Mediterranean island was still way less depressing than thinking about having to sit through Balls of Fury again.

Elf: Acting-wise this is probably Ferrell's Truman Show-style breakthrough, but an extremely weird supporting cast (Ed Asner, James Caan, Zoey Deschanel, Mary Steenburgen) isn't likely to put anyone in the Christmas spirit in this subpar Big wannabe.

Kinky Boots: My folks couldn't believe that Chiwetl Ejiofor's arch drag queen Lola was played by the same guy who played that longsuffering Nigerian doctor in Dirty Pretty Things, and neither will you when he/she goes Nancy Sinatra on you in this quirky British comedy about a woman and her boots!

My Family: Although this Mexican-American family saga/melodrama is veritably stocked with Puerto Rican ringers in the acting department (an anti-Chicano bait and switch), J-Lo isn't bad at all and Jimmy Smits is actually superb.

Knocked Up: I still think the shot of the guy getting high in a gas mask is the movie's funniest bit, but you didn't ask me that, did you, pink-eye sufferer?

The Bourne Ultimatum: Forced to watch this high-energy but totally preposterous star vehicle for Matt Damon again, I'm convinced that Albert Finney deserves Worst Actor of the Year honors for his turns in this and that dreadful Sidney Lumet movie that everybody totally loves except for Mr. and Mrs. the Red Man and me.

Madeinusa: Great Peruvian import with an unexpected film noir script detour sparked my dad to jokingly complain that I always pick "bad movies that depress us for a week" and then to say that he liked the movie a lot--all within a span of five minutes!

Talk to Me: Look at Don Cheadle above, and tell me you don't want to see him as the truth-talkin'/pimp-walkin'/ex-con Washington DC dj in this underlooked 2007 release.

The World's Fastest Indian: I had to be talked into viewing this after seeing one too many previews of Anthony Hopkins taking care of his unclipped toenails with a heavy duty sanding buffer, but it turned out to be a half-decent road movie about a Kiwi and his motorcycle and some salt flats in Utah.

Transamerica: Had heard that Felicity Huffman was awesome in this but that the movie was only so-so, but I was pleasantly surprised to find out that the second road movie in a row and the last in our mini-festival was better than I would have anticipated. That's a wrap!

The Arising Tour Rises Again!

Dear Readers,

For those of you who remember my scathing pre-review of the Smashing Pumpkins new tour show, I felt the need to clear the air and let you all know that the show turned out better than I thought it would. It just proves that when you have low expectations anything is possible. The latest incarnation of the Pumpkins is much like the original one minus two mostly silent band members.

To begin with, the set list was more interesting than I was led to believe. There were a number of old songs mixed in with a sizable helping of new ones. Furthermore, the list for the first night was different from the next two, making those with tickets for all three days very lucky.

Secondly, the Orpheum theater in Boston is definitely the best venue for a larger-than-club-sized show, and it destroys the fire hazard of Great White proportions Avalon (a site I will never purchase a ticket for again). Granted, my best experiences at the Orpheum have always happened when I purchased orchestra seats. As my tickets for the California Raisins -- I mean the Kids in the Hall -- were once located in the last row of the balcony; a place where the ushers are Sherpas and tissues for nosebleeds are a must. Those tickets were the only time I was disappointed by something labeled "DD." Needless to say, my tickets for this Pumpkins show were in fact located in the orchestra.

Lastly, the band performed well, played a lot of great songs while jamming new ones down our collective throats, and put a nostalgic Pumpkins spirit back into my soul. It wasn't the good old days, but maybe things are better this time around -- no band drama and the average age of the fans seemed to be a little older and wiser. The Pixies were still better, but they've got a little company on the 90's revival scene.



-TRM

Why David Cross Matters (Part II)

Dear Readers,

Only Mr. Show could absolutely devastate HR Puffnstuff! Check out the original Saturday morning "kids" show opening in the first clip below, and then see the not-too-subtle send up. David even nails the horrible intro dancing! I apologize for not including the Mr. Show clip that includes Bob and David's interpretation of Sid and Marty Croft, which included the classic line about how eating an orange was like taking a trip through a citrus mountain. Rock on!

-TRM

The Original

Mr. Show Holding up a Mirror to Society with the Altered State of Druggachusetts!

Why David Cross Matters (Part I)

Dear Readers,

I'm back from the first round of holidays and ready for some post X-Mas posting!

It is no secret I'm a huge Mr. Show fan, and I particularly love the stand-up humor of David Cross. So, for the next few entries I'm going to include some of my favorite Mr. Show clips on YouTube. For those of you aware of the Mr. Show artistry, you will be disappointed that these aren't full episodes. However, these clips do a fine job on their own.

First up -- Pallies -- a quick rip on Goodfellas.



-TRM

Chewchilla Rules!

Dear Readers,

To properly welcome the holidays, I have decided to give you all a quick and early Kwanzaa present by skipping the candle-lighting and pouring of libations, which eventually culminates in a feast and go straight to the gift giving! After watching R-Lo's crudely shot marionette on marionette digestive action, I decided to dig up the most blasphemous 70's parody of all time. Before Star Wars became the bible of science fiction (in six parts with new and old testament trilogies) there was Hardware Wars! This YouTube segment comes in two parts, and is well worth your "three bucks!" Please note the Ramone wannabe Ham Salad character, and the Wumpus mixed with the Warren "The Ape" precursor known as Chewchilla.

Habari Gani!

-TRM

Best Dim Sum Ever!

The Red Man being a huge fan of the marionette industry and Z being an equally big fan of boss '50s style r&r as played in the here and now, I have no choice but to draw your attention to the greatest genre splice ever. For a good time, press play below for the Kid Khan and BBQ Show's "Waddlin' Around":

I'm Back You Fucking Baby!

After 4 unbelievably trying months, I am back online, and therefore, "Blog, Blog, Bloggity BLOG!" You can read all about the saga of my last 4 months on my personal blog, "IN THE 'BUFF", but for now, I want to write about my truest love, Diablo Cody.

Earlier today I got an email from our blogging benefactor, The Red Man. He just discovered DC, and thought she was my perfect woman. Well, I had two thoughts, A) TRM is quite astute, and B)No shit, I've been reading her blog "Pussy Ranch" for years on citypages.com. Who wouldn't be in love with a beautiful, foulmouthed, ex stripper who happens to be the most entertaining writer around, and recently penned the feature film,"Juno". Duh...

I spend a lot of time in the Twin Cities, and constantly fantasize about lining up behind DC in a Coffee Shop, and pinching her ass to get her attention. I think she might just dig that.

So anyway, you should check out her blog, see her movie, and if you run into her, tell her to give me a call.

Respectfully submitted,
Z

PS - Don't piss me off!!

Coming Soon to a Theater Near You!

You've seen him in Amadeus -- and maybe in the Mighty Aphrodite? Now, get ready to ask him to give you a tip Liotta-style!

F. Murray Abrham in:

I'll Have What He's Having - Who, am I Kidding...is the Bread Free?
(Oh, and I'll have water too - yes, tap water)

Overactors Anonymous

"Before the Devil Knows You're Dead"
Directed by Sidney Lumet
USA, 2007

Rave reviews unexplainably abound for this contrived and soulless exercise in alinear storytelling, but Pulp Fiction and Memento this is not. In fact, this film probably has more telegraphed moves and fake "edginess" than anything else so critically well-received since Crash. More than one idiot online has actually compared Devil's bungled jewelry heist by brothers who look nothing at all alike plot to Greek tragedy, but the only connection there I can see is that Albert Finney, Ethan Hawke and even the usually-reliable Philip Seymour Hoffman will have you asking for "another cup of hemlock, please" after taking in their acting histrionics and correspondingly pained facial expressions for a couple of hours. Grade: "F" as in F. Murray Abraham Syndrome.

Lucky F-Bomb of the Month Nominee #2

Jeremy Piven is a great choice for somebody whose fame far exceeds his talent. In fact, outside of the Bush White House, he might be an unbeatable choice for said role. At least that's what I thought until I remembered the recent misfortunes of Isiah Lord Thomas III, commonly known by the nicknames "Zeke," "the baby-faced assassin" and "the worst GM in the NBA." That last one is really more a fact than a nickname, but you hear it so often it almost sounds like a bullet point on his resume at this point. Managerially speaking, he is a one-man Washington Generals waiting to be dunked on by Mitch Kupchak in the Meadowlark Lemon role.

There are a lot of bad coaches and GMs in sports, of course, so you might wonder why Isiah really deserves to be singled out. To put it bluntly, how does he out-Piven a Piven at his own game? One, he has been found liable of sexual harassment in a court of law. Two, his employer has had to pay an $11.6 million fine for these actions. Three, the Knicks continue to suck--in a basketball way, that is. I mean, think about it this way--if you had the highest payroll in basketball and a 33-49 coaching record, you'd probably be out of a job immediately. Add these "results" to a sexual harassment judgement against you and a multimillion dollar fine against your firm, and you would be pulling potato-peeling duty in the Green Zone--deservedly. Zeke is still pulling a paycheck, which makes him my nominee for Lucky F-Bomb of the Month for November. Nuff said.

Lucky Fuck of the Month

Dear Readers,

Since we're giving out awards this month, I'd like to nominate the first ever "Lucky Fuck of the Month" award recipient. The rules of this contest are simple, find someone you think is way luckier than their talent, and write a short essay on why they suck. The nominees will get posted in a poll, and then visitors can vote for their top choice.

To begin, I'll throw out a good one.

November Nominee #1: Jeremy Piven

Hey audience! Which picture above came first? You'd think it was the one on the left, but it happens to be the mostly bald one on the right. That's right, Jeremy Piven, my personal nominee for LFotM has mastered the art of regrowing hair. That's right ladies, underneath all those hair transplants, large quantities of minoxidil , and/or baboon hair extensions is Larry David's younger brother. I'm not sure what his appeal is or why he got the big Entourage role. I can only remember him in bit parts in the movie Heat and Grosse Pointe Blank, and now he's getting Emmy awards because of his newfound hair.

Is America really that shallow? Answer, yes.

Other nominees are welcome.

-TRM

Try Seeing the World Through My Eyes

Dear Readers,

I saw the previous post and felt I had to respond. Not to detract from the obvious zionist plot to create a mock Decline of Western Civilization II knock-off metal band entrusted to save the world -- crafty neocons! Rather, I would like to point out the uncanny likeness David Lee Roth shares with Queer Eye for the Straight Guy member Carson Kressley. That tells you a lot.

The Roth/Kressley Comparison

Now You Know I'm Serious

Well, I guess this means the prospect for Mideast peace through metal just got frillier, while also confirming that Judas Priest is just the tip of the iceberg.

Possible musically inspired Arabic responses could include:

Amadena-Bob

Pelvis Musharraf

Hummala bebhuhla zeebuhla boobuhla

hummala bebhuhla zeebuhla bop,

-TRM

The R-Lo Hall of Zeros and Heroes

Dear Readers,

In a classic tribute to the big man himself, I have decided to create a new topic here at Intravenusdemilo with regard to our friend and frequent contributor R-Lo. As many of you know, R-Lo is a bit of a renaissance man -- as a perpetual student, garage-rock music scholar, and gormandizer of the culinary arts. He also daylights as a part-time movie critic since his schedule occasionally allows for weekday matinées -- evidenced by his Bourne review earlier. Over the course of our friendship R-Lo has shared his opinion on a number of actors he has an odd fondness for or an obvious abhorrence. Some of which I would like to share in this entry. So without further fanfare here's my first list of inductees to the R-Lo Zeros and Heroes Hall of Fame.

The Heroes

James "Kimo" Wills:
Best Known For: The classic role of Dave in the Tao of Steve.
In this film Kimo convincingly portrays a "Stu", a less-than-suave ladies' man, and roommate to Dex a "Steve", and metaphorical Don Giovanni. Dex trains Dave who is -- "think Gomer Pyle" -- to become a Steve Austin or Steve McQueen wannabe through his rules on picking up chicks. The only problem is that while Dave apparently has success with the training, the audience is unsure what exactly changed with this character. The bottom line is, Kimo is fucking funny whether you believe the premise or not. Rent this movie, and drink a beer every time Kimo is on the scene.

Mike Schank:
Best Known For: His existence and the film American Movie.
Easily the greatest indie film/documentary side kick to ever bless the screen. He provides a lot of cheap laughs and even astounds onlookers with his guitar metal prowess. He would have been a college dormitory legend on just about any campus -- if only for a weekend. Somehow I get the feeling R-Lo would easily buy a few rounds just to talk to this guy knowing that it would provide material for a lifetime. Daniel Johnston eat your heart out! Plus -- as R-Lo would say, "I shit you not"-- , Schank's so down to earth he has posted his personal phone number and his number of days sober on the American Movie web site. OK, so maybe the suggested round of drinks might be a bit much, but they could definitely hang out and watch the Packers during Thanksgiving.

The Zeros

Oliver Platt
Best Known For: I'm not really sure.
To be honest, I don't have any clue as to why R-Lo is so anti-Platt, but I do know his appearance in a preview is an immediate film disqualification for future viewing. Even Platt's name in the credits is typically followed by an R-Lo "thumb's down" or an unexpected (for the uninitiated) laugh or heckle to his neighboring theatergoers. Secretly, I think R-Lo's issue here is that Platt could be cast as R-Lo in the R-Lo movie -- tentatively called "Dr. Strange-Lo or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love Lake Placid."

Tom Wilkinson
Best Known For: The Full Monty and a host of other moderate films.
Again, I'm not really sure why R-Lo hates this guy considering he's never seen Wilkinson's critically acclaimed, but fairly eerie sex change movie "Normal." I would like to suggest that someone purchase this film as a Christmas present for R-Lo, and make sure he has his Clockwork Orange headgear on when Wilkinson starts caressing his new boobs. Trust me, he'll be begging for a movie starring Oliver Platt in no time.

That's it for this round.

-TRM

Curse of the Reverse Spinal Tap

Dear Readers,

I'm back from retirement and ready to dish!

A while back, I noticed that the remaining original members of The Ramones happened to be the drummers (and a few late additions to the band), and coined the term a "Reverse Spinal Tap" as Tap's legendary running joke had to do with the strange deaths surrounding their percussionists. Well, apparently the Ramones version of the curse is not limited to band memebers. The New York Times and various other news outlets reported this week that one of their former managers was found slain on Halloween. Clearly, this cannot be good new for Phil Spector who was last seen concentrating on being Phil Spector (I'm looking at you bald, hat wearin', tattooed, hysterical guy who disturbed my viewing of The Ramones documentary "End of the Century" ).

Phil Spector at the Ziggy Stardust Court for the Theatrically Insane

Meanwhile, ex-drummer Marky Ramone is scheduled to play Tel Aviv in early January. My advice, play your ass off Marky! Do it for Joe "Mama" Besser, Peter "James" Bond, Eric Childs, "Stumpy Joe" Pepys, Viv Savage, Mick Shrimpton, Ric Shrimpton, and Virtual Reality (the computer drummer).

Marky Representing - No Fucking Hole in the Sheets!

Oddly enough, in a clairvoyant moment Spinal Tap front man David St. Hubbins was once quoted as saying, "The most ironic thing would be if we all dropped dead one day on stage, except for the drummer." Who knew he was referring to the Five Borrough's Finest.

Third Verse Different from the First,

-TRM

"The Bourne Ultimatum"

Directed by Paul Greengrass
USA, 2007

I thought Matt Damon was great and all in Team America, but I'm happy to report that he's even more lifelike in this $5 matinée smash-'em-up still screening at the Arlington Theater. This was a nice flick to catch on my day off to be sure, but the Phoenix's hailing of it as a "deep" political thriller shot under the shadow/shame of post-Abu Ghraib U.S. self-reflection made me want to spit up $4 latté ice cubes every time Damon-as-Bourne turned to his white boy kung-fu to get out of trouble (OK, so I wasn't really drinking Fair Trade coffee at the time, but you get the point). Note to Hillary and Obama: the IMDb lists "kicked in the face" as one of the "hot keywords" for this lefty message movie!