Seriously, Red Man, why are you even pretending to be nice to this nobodynik? Big deal, he was in a movie? So what? As far as I can tell, he's another anonymous nobody who has a story about how his mother wanted him to be a doctor.
You know what? We have a blog that nobody reads either. He's sucking up to us for the exposure, leave it at that.
It's not like it's that hard to get into a movie either. Remember when I played one of the Baseball Furies in The Warriors ?
I was a little bit thinner then, but you can see that my Nike's match my face paint.
Top 5 celebrities that I would rather suck up to, eventhough no one cares about them:
5) Anton Newcombe 4) Chest Rockwell 3) Byron Allen 2) The guy who played Chewbacca 1) Tiffany-Amber Theissen, (Hubba Hubba)
Today is easily the best day our blog has ever seen! Serious props to you for catching us all off guard, and providing a good laugh. I think it is safe to say I was not expecting to hear from the man himself when I posted those off-the-cuff remarks. I always thought that the notion of semi-anonymous posting was mostly a figment, and you just proved it. So, from now on my future writing will consist of how much I love puppies, what makes cookies so controversial, and why someone should write a self help book based on the sport of ping-pong (proposed title: Paddle Up: How to Backspin Your Way into Sobriety in 11 Points). Lesson learned.
One question...did you ever consider going the Whoopi Goldberg route and changing your name for even greater affect? I'm thinking Osama Bin Laughter would be a terrific gimmick and is very timely. You're welcome to give it a try if you want, and I'm not a striking writer so this is truly by the books and completely gratis.
Feel free to drop us a line again in the future. We'll certainly welcome a post that blasts any of our musical, political, or movie tastes...trust me, we can take it. Seriously, my buddy R-Lo is just asking for it, and my taste in music has some suspect qualities.
Plus that dunk that beat the Human Highlight Reel in the 1986 NBA slam dunk championship proves that my boy Kucinich has a long history of having "game" on the grandest stage of all. I rest my case, damn it!
...or this guy either. Kucinich may not be for everybody, but even with that vegetarianism thing his resume speaks for itself far more impressively than either that of the comedic equivalent of a fluffer or the theme park metal guitar wankery of Bertinelli boy at right (nice overalls, clown).
In the grand tradition of observation and consternation (as we here at the Enormodome are fond of living by) I am personally willing to entertain the satirical notion that Adam Ornstein (AKA Orny Adams) actually serves a purpose in our daily blogging. He is a reminder that innocent bystanders sometimes get hit by documentaries, and become horrible Jeopardy-like trivia answers --
Trebek: Unfunny comedian in the movie Comedian? Contestant: Who is Adams. Trebek: Yes. Contestant: I'll take "That's Not Funny" for $400. Trebek: Best known for his Tourette's-like routine. Contestant: Who is Clay. Trebek: No, I'm sorry the answer is Goldthwait.
For Adams, being placed in the same film as Seinfeld (notably our previous winner of Worst Standup Comic poll) is just an unfortunate turn of events for someone who probably thought the exposure would help his career. In this case, Ornstein failed to become an indie hero such as Mike Schank, "Mr. Awesome" Roy Schildt, or Sir Warren DeMontague, and instead is comparable to the likes of GM's Roger Smith (Roger and Me), Ronald McDonald (Super Size Me), and the camp in Jesus Camp.
So, the next time someone tells you they're making a documentary, and you think it might make you famous-- think Borat and all will be answered.
I'm a little behind the times on the subject of defunct Canadian trash rockers these days, but this Y2K clip of "Everybody Sexareeno!" by LES SEXAREENOS is more or less vintage timelessness anyway. If you've been enjoying the recent posts focusing on wigs, garage rock, shit coming out of people's stomachs, etc., please note that there's now a 2:02 soundtrack dedicated to all of the above...below. Take it away, Maestro!
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!"
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.
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.
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".
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.
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.
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.
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
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?
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!
