Why Dennis Kucinich Matters (Part II)

Even fellow Cleveland oddball Ghoulardi was embraced by the citizens of "the Mistake on the Lake"--proving that it's never too late for anyone to transform oneself from a cult hero into a YouTube superstar! All I can say to the candidate is, "You go, girl!"

What Do You Get When You Mix Showgirls and the Holocaust? -- Paul Verhoeven's Zwartboek

Dear Readers,

Hard to imagine, but the creator of illustrious films like Basic Instinct, Total Recall, Starship Troopers, Robocop, and Showgirls thought he had to go Spielberg at some point and schlockily make a film about other people's pain. I'm not saying the previous films were great cinema -- Basic Instinct was detective porn, Showgirls was just badly orchestrated porn, Total Recall had the Cabbage Patch fetus Kuato, Robocop was inspired by Clockwork Orange's Ludovico technique, and Starship Troopers was the video game Centipede set to that fucking Blur woo-hoo song -- however, they didn't come as near to offending the senses as setting Anne Frank to a cheesy story about how she slept her way into the gestapo only to find out that everyone she trusted sold her out for money. Now, I have to be honest, I didn't find this film nearly as offensive as everyone's favorite Holocaust darling Schindler's List, but it has it's own downright low moments -- like having the lead character get dumped on literally when a large vat of excrement is intentionally poured over her head. I guess Paul Verhoeven wanted to show how "shitty" things were being occupied by Germany. Overall, the film is watchable because the plot moves at hypersonic action movie speed, which is unique for the pain and suffering genre. What actually saves this film from an extremely negative review here is that the story is obviously fiction and not history "rewritten for the screen" with an extra helping of bullshit climaxes (I'm looking at you, the asshole that had a montage tour of killing guided by a little girl in a red dress). I'm just left wondering why newspapers like the Boston Globe gave this film three and half stars.


Kuato bids you farewell -- now, open your mind!

-TRM

Why Dennis Kucinich Matters (Part I)

He was great in The Station Agent!

R-Lo's Instant Laugh-o-Rama Photo

Dear Readers,

I've been meaning to post this crackup photo of an original "garage" rock 60's band.

Some inspired band names could have been:

• The Dallas Patsies
• Sheriff Whitey and the Convicts
• The Jack Ruby Star Fruits
• Lee Harvey and the Bay of Pigs
• Conspira-Three
• The Oliver Stones

Suggestions are welcome.

-TRM

Am I Late, or Just Getting an Early Start on Next Year?

Alright, I fully admit it, I didn't get my Christmas cards out again this year. But hey, it's hard getting stuff done when your a drunk. Seriously, the damn holiday snuck up on me like slow moving Zombie in a "___ of the Dead" movie. You know it's coming, you can see it, you can get out of its way with no more then a casual mosey, but yet, somehow, it still feasts on your brains before the cigar burn flashes by.

One moment I'm handing out Halloween treats to a particularly sexy nurse who's three year old, dressed like Scooby Doo had a penchant for pixie sticks, and then Zoinx! I'm singing Silent Night with the rest of the "good" Catholics at Midnight Mass. Seriously, I had no chance.

Anyway, here is a late but appropriate Christmas card for my fellow contributors.



Merry Christmas,
Z

Bigotry - The Long and Short of It

One thing this early Primary season has made crystal clear to me, is that we truly are a nation of bigots. You may think this is ironic, this being posted on a blog whose main contributors are a redheaded Jew, a snoring Pollock, a Mexican from East LA (or at least the same state)who can't even speak Spanish, and whatever that Demented guy is, but it is true. We are as a nation, bigots. You may say that the early Democratic Primaries are evidence that we are growing past our bigotry and are willing to elect a black dude, or even more shocking, a lesbian! (Common' we all know the Clinton's is a marriage of convenience. Bill's exploits are legendary, Hillary is always visiting "close friends", and Chelsea doesn't look like either of them) We have even in the past elected a cripple (4 times), a Catholic, and a fag. (Buchanan wasn't hiding anything.)

But I propose to you that it IS this very Primary season that has brought to the forefront a prejudice that may be more deeply ingrained then the rest of them. A prejudice suffered by citizens who no one, to this point, has had the melons to stand up and defend. It is a prejudice that knows no race, no religion, no gender. Face it America, we oppress short guys.

Now I don't even have a horse in this race. I'm 6'4" tall with a size 13 shoe (ladies...). But I really can't come up with any other reason why Dennis Kucinich is barely a blip in the polls. He has been right on everything. He voted against the Patriot Act and the War. He introduced the article to congress calling for the impeachment of Dick Cheney. His health care plan is first copied and then compromised by all other Democratic candidates. He has consistently fought for the working man, and the rights of women. He actually is everything the Democrats say they want. What is their big problem, for fuck's sake? He just ain't that tall, right? What else could it be?

For this reason, I say Fuck the Democrats. At least the Republicans don't pretend to hide their bigotry. Well, OK, they do try to hide it, but they just ain't any good at it. We know what we are getting with them. Call a spade a spade...in the parlance of our times.

I support my little brother DK. I agree with his entire platform. I find it refreshing that he writes his own speeches. I am impressed that he started on his high school basketball team (at 4'9") and I do love his taste in women. Have you seen his wife Elizabeth? Tall, redheaded and gorgeous. She's like a real Jessica Rabbit. I'm guessin' however that she is with DK for a little something more than "he makes her laugh". You know that guy is swinging a Louisville Slugger. And steroid free, I'm bettin'.



Dems, if you want my respect, or more importantly, my vote, you better start getting in the booth, and poppin' that Kucinich chad. He's the only choice, you freakin' nimrods. The rest are "posers" (to quote the Red Man.)

As evidence that the short guy can succeed, I give you the following list.

1) Rudy
2) Spud Webb
3) Mini Kiss
4) Napoleon
5) Robby Benson as Henry Steele in the 1978 classic sports gem, "One on One".

Respectfully submitted,
Z

Why David Cross Matters (Part IV)

Dear Readers,

I found one of my all-time favorite David Cross quotes from his brilliant CD "It's Not Funny." If you haven't checked it out, I definitely recommend purchasing it.

[On freedom/America] I saw this ad for electric scissors [refering to a bit earlier] during an episode of "The Simple Life." Which is a show that glorifies these two rich, giggling cunts, who have no respect for anyone, and get away with anything. I, right then, vowed that I would retain this image every time I hear George Bush say 'the terrorists hate our freedom.' You know what? I hate our freedom. Little ol' me, an American! I hate it! That's all we've done with it? We're fucking assholes, man. We...are...awful.

-TRM

The Unholy Alliance or How Lancelot Link Chumpified the Republican Party

Dear Readers,

Little did you know that Austin Powers was originally inspired by a bunch of chimpanzees with Mr. Ed's peanut butter jammed in their mouth -- Liotta-Style! The show I'm referring to is a simian garage rock classic, which made it an instant R-Lo "super good" thumbs up special. It is Lancelot Link Secret Chimp. I'm not exactly sure who watched this in the late 60's, but it eventually invaded Nickelodeon in the late 80's by bumping My Three Sons and Car 54 reruns later into the evening. Oddly enough, The Monkees seemed to hang onto their time slot --fucking Micky Dolenz!

OK, so I've included a horrible clip of Lancelot Link below, but I want to note that this band is called The Evolution Revolution making these musical mammals smarter than your average evangelical voter as the apes have clearly sided with Darwin on this one. Whereas the Iowa Republicans just backed a bass playing, lieutenant Data look-alike, evangelical minister for President. The scary part is that Huckabee might have been the best candidate. I shit you not.




As I see it, the Republican unholy alliance of the religious and the rich was meant to split at some point damning both extremes to political isolation. It should be noted that neither of these groups really had anything in common to begin with, but both were willing to overlook the ideological goals of the other to get someone into office. So, it didn't matter if you were pro-war, anti-abortion, pro-death penalty, and against gun control because there was a white guy you could elect who bought into your hypocrisy to increase their personal power. Don't believe me, check out Mitt Romney's change of mind when it comes to abortion and the national election-- the same goes for Giuliani too. Does anyone even know what Fred Thompson thinks? The religious wing of the Republicans have a right to be angry with the candidates they have elected, as they have done the least amount of their bidding while in office. Just think about it. Over the course of six years, what legislation did the Republicans pass for them with control over the house, senate, supreme court, and the Presidency? The answer is virtually nothing. So, while self proclaimed fiscal conservatives look for a candidate to support, the religious right is going with who they perceive their "guy" is. The other man from Hope, Arkansas. The one who doesn't believe in evolution.

-TRM

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!!