Tuesday, March 09, 2004
Debating whether or not to move my blog over to livejournal.
http://www.livejournal.com/users/willybobo/
http://www.livejournal.com/users/willybobo/
Tuesday, March 02, 2004
ATTENTION TATTOO ARTISTS:
For the love of all that is sacred, please refuse any and all future cleavage jobs.
For the love of all that is sacred, please refuse any and all future cleavage jobs.
Last night, Average Joe: Hawaii revealed a twist in its final episode. After the broad picked her guy, she let him know that she used to date Fabio. Yes, Fabio, the romance novel coverboy and the only human to actually sport a horse's mane atop his head. Well, the guy who 'won' the girl's heart went ape-shit, dumping the chick on live television-on-tape.
WTF?!?! Dunno 'bout you, but finding out your new gal went out with Fabio is hardly something to get upset about. At least she wasn't a man who used to spot Fabio at the gym. C'mon, the guy's a joke.
Whatever, it's even more funny when you consider this is the second time a bird has shit on Fabio in the past few years. Poor Samson.
WTF?!?! Dunno 'bout you, but finding out your new gal went out with Fabio is hardly something to get upset about. At least she wasn't a man who used to spot Fabio at the gym. C'mon, the guy's a joke.
Whatever, it's even more funny when you consider this is the second time a bird has shit on Fabio in the past few years. Poor Samson.
Caught about 15 minutes of the newest Fox reality show called Eden somthing or other. Absolute disaster. This garbage heap makes Fox's Temptation Island look like a Ken Burns documentary.
This morning on my commute, I was forced to stare at an ad for FoxWoods Casino Resort. Know what I see? They have some sort of Native American Museum next to FoxWoods. Can't remember the name, but that's not important. Get this, the museum's tagline aka slogan was:
Our legacy is yours.
Uhh...no it isn't. That was the problem to begin with, wasn't it? I just don't get this. Is it supposed to make people feel guilty? Or does it just point to how easy it is to steal from Native Americans (especially when they insist)?
Our legacy is yours.
Uhh...no it isn't. That was the problem to begin with, wasn't it? I just don't get this. Is it supposed to make people feel guilty? Or does it just point to how easy it is to steal from Native Americans (especially when they insist)?
2 funny things people said to me yesterday:
1. I'm talking to this guy about films. A coworker overhears "Pulp Fiction" and asks whether we're discussing the company's profit-sharing plan.
2. I tell a buddy what I think of the Jesus film. He mentions how his girlfriend finally saw Braveheart. I say Jesus carries much more weight than some Scot. He says, "Yeah, about 400 lbs. more."
1. I'm talking to this guy about films. A coworker overhears "Pulp Fiction" and asks whether we're discussing the company's profit-sharing plan.
2. I tell a buddy what I think of the Jesus film. He mentions how his girlfriend finally saw Braveheart. I say Jesus carries much more weight than some Scot. He says, "Yeah, about 400 lbs. more."
Now where was I?
Aah yes, the Jesus film review.
All jokes aside, it was well-made. The acting was decent (Caviezel is much better in Count of Montecristo) but the real star of the show is the cinematography. Every scene looks straight out of the Bible, as it should.
I work with many Jewish people. The week before this movie opened, two of my more vocal Jew coworkers chatted with me about this film. Both were very scared about the ramifications should it do well at the box office. That it is anti-semitic seems to have been a given. I listened and joked with them as they hoped for a Weekend at Bernie's Part 3-type flick to open on the same weekend.
I don't exactly know if all the worrying and finger-pointing helps their cause. If anything, it brings more attention to the film.
From my seat, the Israelites do come off worst of all in the film. The Romans get off easy. They were scared of Caesar's reaction should another uprising occur. Plus, they gave the Jews several opportunities to save the man.
Hmm. I don't know how much of what's written in The Good Book is true, less sure how much of it made the journey onscreen. But if you're the villain in the story, you're the villain in the movie. So what's the biggie?
I don't recall Egyptians up in arms over their Pharoah being portrayed as such a bad man in Cecil B. Demille's The Ten Commandments. To be fair, I wasn't around at the time but you get my point. A more current example would be Germans protesting Schindler's List because their ancestors are not exactly coming off too well onscreen. Don't remember that at all.
Then again, it's a different world nowadays. And from what I hear, anti-semitism is rampant in Europe today. So maybe there is reason for concern.
Back to the film. I have seen Braveheart all of once. It is far too long for my tastes and the graphic violence isn't my cup of tea. Yet if I'm to suffer through gritty realistic pain and suffering, William Wallace doesn't hold a candle to Jesus of Nazareth. No offense Scots, but you understand. In this respect, the violence in the film is justified. It makes you feel every whiplash and visualize the sacrifice He made for us.
So you say, "Why's it have to be so graphic though?"
Well, this is tricky. It really doesn't have to be. BUT today's popcorn-loving movie-going public understands the language of sex and violence better than any other. The way I see it, Mel Gibson used the violence to get people in the theater.
Is that right? Tough one. On one hand, to Gibson, this is the most important story ever told. Whether it bothers the Jewish community matters little to him.
How responsible is it to release a film that may fuel anti-semitism? Well, most rational people who view this film are not going to go out and beat up Jews. Or even hold some resentment in the backs of their mind. Why? Because if they are church-going types, one of the main lessons Jesus teaches us is to love everyone, especially those who despise you. Let's just hope most people are rational-minded.
I was very dismayed at how many little children were at the screening I caught. It's Rated R so obviously many parents felt their kids should be exposed to this film. Dunno about that. I wouldn't. Unless they were older than knuckle-head age. And that's relative, based more on maturity than anything else.
On the violence, Gibson had two words to address critics. He said "Kill Bill" during his appearance on Jay Leno's Tonight Show. Here's where I totally disagree with Gibson.
First of all, Kill Bill sucked. That is a movie. Not a film.
Second of all, it's best scene is mindless violence. STYLIZED mindless violence. Like a videogame. Like a comic book. I'm not 100% sure about this so Gibson may be right. But from my POV, stylized violence is not as powerful as ultra-realistic violence.
Woops. I do agree with him. Just made the connection. See, the more stylized the violence, the cooler it is (to knuckleheads especially), and the more little Johnny wants to run home and recreate it. Think Matrix (Cool!) and Colombine.
By using ultra-realistic violence, Gibson makes people look away. He makes them cringe and cry. Not laugh or think ain't it cool!
I doubt anyone leaving The Passion of the Christ is rushing home to make a cat-o-nine-tails to aid in the pillaging of some village out there.
So the violence serves its purpose. And hopefully, the film will stir much more than a media blitz. Because let's face it. Many people, young kids especially, are not religious. In my church, it's babies, old people, the wife and me. Sad but true.
The sex scandals that rocked the Church doesn't help matters. And all the cool stylized violence available outside on a Sunday afternoon is hard to compete with. In the end, this film may do more to get young people in Church than any priest or Pope ever could. And that could be a good thing. Unless they're gay. Then they're not welcome. Joke. Sorry.
I'm glad many churches realize this and have taken things into their own hands. After many of the opening weekend's showings, several volunteers were handing out pamplets explaining more about the life of Jesus and where you could learn more. It was good old fashioned gorilla marketing for the Man (or Woman) Above. God Bless America.
Aah yes, the Jesus film review.
All jokes aside, it was well-made. The acting was decent (Caviezel is much better in Count of Montecristo) but the real star of the show is the cinematography. Every scene looks straight out of the Bible, as it should.
I work with many Jewish people. The week before this movie opened, two of my more vocal Jew coworkers chatted with me about this film. Both were very scared about the ramifications should it do well at the box office. That it is anti-semitic seems to have been a given. I listened and joked with them as they hoped for a Weekend at Bernie's Part 3-type flick to open on the same weekend.
I don't exactly know if all the worrying and finger-pointing helps their cause. If anything, it brings more attention to the film.
From my seat, the Israelites do come off worst of all in the film. The Romans get off easy. They were scared of Caesar's reaction should another uprising occur. Plus, they gave the Jews several opportunities to save the man.
Hmm. I don't know how much of what's written in The Good Book is true, less sure how much of it made the journey onscreen. But if you're the villain in the story, you're the villain in the movie. So what's the biggie?
I don't recall Egyptians up in arms over their Pharoah being portrayed as such a bad man in Cecil B. Demille's The Ten Commandments. To be fair, I wasn't around at the time but you get my point. A more current example would be Germans protesting Schindler's List because their ancestors are not exactly coming off too well onscreen. Don't remember that at all.
Then again, it's a different world nowadays. And from what I hear, anti-semitism is rampant in Europe today. So maybe there is reason for concern.
Back to the film. I have seen Braveheart all of once. It is far too long for my tastes and the graphic violence isn't my cup of tea. Yet if I'm to suffer through gritty realistic pain and suffering, William Wallace doesn't hold a candle to Jesus of Nazareth. No offense Scots, but you understand. In this respect, the violence in the film is justified. It makes you feel every whiplash and visualize the sacrifice He made for us.
So you say, "Why's it have to be so graphic though?"
Well, this is tricky. It really doesn't have to be. BUT today's popcorn-loving movie-going public understands the language of sex and violence better than any other. The way I see it, Mel Gibson used the violence to get people in the theater.
Is that right? Tough one. On one hand, to Gibson, this is the most important story ever told. Whether it bothers the Jewish community matters little to him.
How responsible is it to release a film that may fuel anti-semitism? Well, most rational people who view this film are not going to go out and beat up Jews. Or even hold some resentment in the backs of their mind. Why? Because if they are church-going types, one of the main lessons Jesus teaches us is to love everyone, especially those who despise you. Let's just hope most people are rational-minded.
I was very dismayed at how many little children were at the screening I caught. It's Rated R so obviously many parents felt their kids should be exposed to this film. Dunno about that. I wouldn't. Unless they were older than knuckle-head age. And that's relative, based more on maturity than anything else.
On the violence, Gibson had two words to address critics. He said "Kill Bill" during his appearance on Jay Leno's Tonight Show. Here's where I totally disagree with Gibson.
First of all, Kill Bill sucked. That is a movie. Not a film.
Second of all, it's best scene is mindless violence. STYLIZED mindless violence. Like a videogame. Like a comic book. I'm not 100% sure about this so Gibson may be right. But from my POV, stylized violence is not as powerful as ultra-realistic violence.
Woops. I do agree with him. Just made the connection. See, the more stylized the violence, the cooler it is (to knuckleheads especially), and the more little Johnny wants to run home and recreate it. Think Matrix (Cool!) and Colombine.
By using ultra-realistic violence, Gibson makes people look away. He makes them cringe and cry. Not laugh or think ain't it cool!
I doubt anyone leaving The Passion of the Christ is rushing home to make a cat-o-nine-tails to aid in the pillaging of some village out there.
So the violence serves its purpose. And hopefully, the film will stir much more than a media blitz. Because let's face it. Many people, young kids especially, are not religious. In my church, it's babies, old people, the wife and me. Sad but true.
The sex scandals that rocked the Church doesn't help matters. And all the cool stylized violence available outside on a Sunday afternoon is hard to compete with. In the end, this film may do more to get young people in Church than any priest or Pope ever could. And that could be a good thing. Unless they're gay. Then they're not welcome. Joke. Sorry.
I'm glad many churches realize this and have taken things into their own hands. After many of the opening weekend's showings, several volunteers were handing out pamplets explaining more about the life of Jesus and where you could learn more. It was good old fashioned gorilla marketing for the Man (or Woman) Above. God Bless America.
Monday, March 01, 2004
Over the weekend I watched The Passion of the Christ, or as it's oh-so-hip to say, Passion. Below are my observations, but first a few jokes:
--There's simply no way the audience can be expected to buy Jim Caviezel as Jesus. For one thing, he's guilty of having committed one of the worst sins around: He costarred in Angel Eyes with Jennifer Lopez.
--The Roman tag-team torturers looked an awful lot like the Bushwhackers of WWF fame. Oh, and the butcher at my local deli.
--I hear studio executives are planning a Life and Times of the Buddha starring Jackie Chan (Doing his own death-defying stunts, grasshopper!!) and directed by John Woo.
--I don't recall the Shroud of Turin being offered to Jesus by Sofia Coppolla, but who knows. Those darn revisionists.
--Not only did Wilt Chamberlain bed thousands of women, he also helped Jesus carry his cross. Who the hell was that guy? Billy Dee Williams?
--I know the criminals being crucified were dumb, but that one schmuck must have been deaf and dumb and as a result, blind. Who can't hear a crow cackling from two feet away?
--Gibson must hate dark, greasy hair as most of the criminals looked just like Judas and vice versa. Was there some sort of Judas Scumbag Villain Hair Club for Men? And if so, why wasn't Barabbas a member?
--Why does Satan's baby have vericose veins at such a tender age?
--The devil is no match for old school birkenstocks!
--Mary and evil incarnate were the same shade of More Grey Than Humanly Possible! Hmm...
--Judas is taunted by rare shape-shifting children. I swear to you, the local cineplex was filled with these little cretins making faces at every lash. Can't a guy watch some good old fashioned torture without cries and whimpers from the romper room set? What did they expect, Sunday School with Mr. Bill?
--Pontius Pilate has the strangest set of ears. They're really at odds with one other.
--Not only did Pontius fear what Caesar would do should there be another uprising, he shuddered at the thought of his lovely wife's nagging. "But Jesus is so cool! C'mon, he's cuuute! No poon for pontius if my man bites it!"
--Jesus was a very skilled carpenter as a scene early on shows him inventing the Ikea neck table, perfect for resting your jaw on and slurping crumbs right off the splintery surface.
Shit, it's late, finish this manana.
--There's simply no way the audience can be expected to buy Jim Caviezel as Jesus. For one thing, he's guilty of having committed one of the worst sins around: He costarred in Angel Eyes with Jennifer Lopez.
--The Roman tag-team torturers looked an awful lot like the Bushwhackers of WWF fame. Oh, and the butcher at my local deli.
--I hear studio executives are planning a Life and Times of the Buddha starring Jackie Chan (Doing his own death-defying stunts, grasshopper!!) and directed by John Woo.
--I don't recall the Shroud of Turin being offered to Jesus by Sofia Coppolla, but who knows. Those darn revisionists.
--Not only did Wilt Chamberlain bed thousands of women, he also helped Jesus carry his cross. Who the hell was that guy? Billy Dee Williams?
--I know the criminals being crucified were dumb, but that one schmuck must have been deaf and dumb and as a result, blind. Who can't hear a crow cackling from two feet away?
--Gibson must hate dark, greasy hair as most of the criminals looked just like Judas and vice versa. Was there some sort of Judas Scumbag Villain Hair Club for Men? And if so, why wasn't Barabbas a member?
--Why does Satan's baby have vericose veins at such a tender age?
--The devil is no match for old school birkenstocks!
--Mary and evil incarnate were the same shade of More Grey Than Humanly Possible! Hmm...
--Judas is taunted by rare shape-shifting children. I swear to you, the local cineplex was filled with these little cretins making faces at every lash. Can't a guy watch some good old fashioned torture without cries and whimpers from the romper room set? What did they expect, Sunday School with Mr. Bill?
--Pontius Pilate has the strangest set of ears. They're really at odds with one other.
--Not only did Pontius fear what Caesar would do should there be another uprising, he shuddered at the thought of his lovely wife's nagging. "But Jesus is so cool! C'mon, he's cuuute! No poon for pontius if my man bites it!"
--Jesus was a very skilled carpenter as a scene early on shows him inventing the Ikea neck table, perfect for resting your jaw on and slurping crumbs right off the splintery surface.
Shit, it's late, finish this manana.
If I'm not mistaken, apple.com offers legal music downloads from a huge selection, which includes the catalogues of almost every major record label. The quality is great and to many, so is the price: $0.99 a song.
A bargain, right? Well, not really. Most new CD releases are now $9.99 and feature at least 10-12 tracks. If you were to select twelve tracks on apple.com, you'd be out 12 beans, plus shipping plus the cost of media to burn your tracks onto.
But hey, you're supporting the artists if you buy from apple.com, right?
Before I riff on the latest development, methinks it's key to remember apple's recent marketing campaign. Believe it was something like 'Think Different'.
Apparently, apple and its ad agency used 8 Mile, the Oscar-winning Eminem track, and never gave the man his due.
Nothing. No credit in the ad, and more importantly, not a red cent.
Oh, so it's okay to steal music when you're advertising an alternative to stealing it on the web?
How smart is it to alienate one of the biggest rappers in the world, one who influences the youth who represent the future of your company?
Here's a new idea for a commercial that blends Pepsi's retarded Super Bowl spot with apple's hypocritical flap with Slim Shady:
"Hi, we're apple. Recently, Eminem sued us for illegally using his 8 Mile song in a commercial. But we just want you to know that we're going to continue to rip off artists in the future in order to sell our online service."
That's definitely Think-ing Different-ly on apple's part.
A bargain, right? Well, not really. Most new CD releases are now $9.99 and feature at least 10-12 tracks. If you were to select twelve tracks on apple.com, you'd be out 12 beans, plus shipping plus the cost of media to burn your tracks onto.
But hey, you're supporting the artists if you buy from apple.com, right?
Before I riff on the latest development, methinks it's key to remember apple's recent marketing campaign. Believe it was something like 'Think Different'.
Apparently, apple and its ad agency used 8 Mile, the Oscar-winning Eminem track, and never gave the man his due.
Nothing. No credit in the ad, and more importantly, not a red cent.
Oh, so it's okay to steal music when you're advertising an alternative to stealing it on the web?
How smart is it to alienate one of the biggest rappers in the world, one who influences the youth who represent the future of your company?
Here's a new idea for a commercial that blends Pepsi's retarded Super Bowl spot with apple's hypocritical flap with Slim Shady:
"Hi, we're apple. Recently, Eminem sued us for illegally using his 8 Mile song in a commercial. But we just want you to know that we're going to continue to rip off artists in the future in order to sell our online service."
That's definitely Think-ing Different-ly on apple's part.
Last night, I spoke about my uncle.
His name is Lincoln.
Everyone calls him Washington.
He is insane.
This is not a joke.
After many laughs, I phoned my mom.
His name IS Washington.
His middle name is Leonardo.
Lincoln is a figment of my imagination.
I still refer to him as Uncle Lincoln Washington.
He will continue to be insane.
Funny, this looks like a strange poem.
That's crazy.
His name is Lincoln.
Everyone calls him Washington.
He is insane.
This is not a joke.
After many laughs, I phoned my mom.
His name IS Washington.
His middle name is Leonardo.
Lincoln is a figment of my imagination.
I still refer to him as Uncle Lincoln Washington.
He will continue to be insane.
Funny, this looks like a strange poem.
That's crazy.
Samuel L. Jackson ne Sam Jackson ne Overexposed Black Guy needs to stop already. Jesus. This 'cat' is in every other commercial on television nowadays. It's either his entire Kangol-ed self or just his voice, but damn he's virtually inescapable.
So he had some pop-culture appeal as Jules in Pulp Fiction. What else? Squat.
Maybe he should spend more time honing his craft, and less time recording voiceovers for the highest bidders. Then again, if all he has left are paycheck performances like the last few, carry on Sammy. With yer bad self!
P.S. The Kangol is over. You're old. You're uncool.
So he had some pop-culture appeal as Jules in Pulp Fiction. What else? Squat.
Maybe he should spend more time honing his craft, and less time recording voiceovers for the highest bidders. Then again, if all he has left are paycheck performances like the last few, carry on Sammy. With yer bad self!
P.S. The Kangol is over. You're old. You're uncool.
Whole week without an entry. Must be some truth to the research they released this morning. Blogs have yet to catch on; something like 3% of Internet users have a semi-regularly updated one. Oh well.
Too much real work last week for me. Hoping I win the jury lottery this week and get a nice 2-3 day vacation from the usual grind.
So Sex & The City came and went. And like sex, men slept on it, while women got overly emotional about the whole affair. I'm definitely glad it's gone. The women have all hit the wall. And frankly, much of it was getting way too hard to believe. (Yes feminists, fashionistas and wannabes, I realize it's a fantasy.)
That people can live in Gotham fabulously seems to have been the point of the show. Look at the shoes, look at the clothes, look at the nightspots, look at the sex -- this show was begging to be looked at. Funny, reminds me of most pretentious city women.
My wife enjoyed it. For me, the best thing about it was the previews for the Sopranos and HBO's new series, Deadwood. (Wasn't that a very bad John Singleton/Ving Rhames/black people/1800's/forest burning vehicle? Woops. Think that was Rosewood.)
Wait, no, I'm not being fair. I must give SJP (as cute entertainment show hosts refer to her by...HA!) and the series' creators credit for having at least some constraint and knowing when to let go. I hope other television producers paid attention to the lesson:
Bow out gracefully before you become X-Files Season 15. And the truth is out there, but no viewers are.
Too much real work last week for me. Hoping I win the jury lottery this week and get a nice 2-3 day vacation from the usual grind.
So Sex & The City came and went. And like sex, men slept on it, while women got overly emotional about the whole affair. I'm definitely glad it's gone. The women have all hit the wall. And frankly, much of it was getting way too hard to believe. (Yes feminists, fashionistas and wannabes, I realize it's a fantasy.)
That people can live in Gotham fabulously seems to have been the point of the show. Look at the shoes, look at the clothes, look at the nightspots, look at the sex -- this show was begging to be looked at. Funny, reminds me of most pretentious city women.
My wife enjoyed it. For me, the best thing about it was the previews for the Sopranos and HBO's new series, Deadwood. (Wasn't that a very bad John Singleton/Ving Rhames/black people/1800's/forest burning vehicle? Woops. Think that was Rosewood.)
Wait, no, I'm not being fair. I must give SJP (as cute entertainment show hosts refer to her by...HA!) and the series' creators credit for having at least some constraint and knowing when to let go. I hope other television producers paid attention to the lesson:
Bow out gracefully before you become X-Files Season 15. And the truth is out there, but no viewers are.
Monday, February 23, 2004
& here we go:
There's a very disturbing advertising campaign on the air waves right now. To put things in perspective, the imagery in these new commercials is creepier than the 'morphing' technique used in Michael Jackson's Black and White video.
It's AT&T's bizarro attempt at making the ampersand more than a squiggly line of punctuation used by teenage girls and greedy marketers. Basically, they pair up two halves of different people's faces. ON PURPOSE.
Trust me, you will never forget how retarded this shit is. Hell, the only benefit for AT&T is that you'll want to call friends just to ask them if they've seen the commercial that makes Batman's Two-Face proud.
"Uhh, yes, sign me up for a 2-year contract with that telecommunications company that shows me a bunch of 2-faced motherfuckers?"
Idiots. This is further proof that cellular phones do, in fact, cause brain damage.
Reached by gramophonetical satellite somewhere off the coast of Turks & Caicos, the AT&T ampersand had this to say, "I am the face of AT&T. & I can't be replaced by little computer effects. Without me, they're fucking AT T. Shit, I don't need them. I still get residuals for Speak & Spell, Bartles & James, Ben & Jerry's, Martini & Rossi, etc. I could go on for days. Even law firms & ad agencies would be nothing without me. & what?!?"
There's a very disturbing advertising campaign on the air waves right now. To put things in perspective, the imagery in these new commercials is creepier than the 'morphing' technique used in Michael Jackson's Black and White video.
It's AT&T's bizarro attempt at making the ampersand more than a squiggly line of punctuation used by teenage girls and greedy marketers. Basically, they pair up two halves of different people's faces. ON PURPOSE.
Trust me, you will never forget how retarded this shit is. Hell, the only benefit for AT&T is that you'll want to call friends just to ask them if they've seen the commercial that makes Batman's Two-Face proud.
"Uhh, yes, sign me up for a 2-year contract with that telecommunications company that shows me a bunch of 2-faced motherfuckers?"
Idiots. This is further proof that cellular phones do, in fact, cause brain damage.
Reached by gramophonetical satellite somewhere off the coast of Turks & Caicos, the AT&T ampersand had this to say, "I am the face of AT&T. & I can't be replaced by little computer effects. Without me, they're fucking AT T. Shit, I don't need them. I still get residuals for Speak & Spell, Bartles & James, Ben & Jerry's, Martini & Rossi, etc. I could go on for days. Even law firms & ad agencies would be nothing without me. & what?!?"
Friday, February 20, 2004
Here's a confession: I never made it past track 1 of Madonna's latest CD. So I was pleasantly surprised to hear a track free of bad white girl rap in some Estee Lauder commercial. You know the song.
"And a love profusion. (Isn't that some hair care shit or a flavor of mystic?) It makes me feel like..."
Nice tune, perfectly suited to model/spokesperson Carolyn Murphy's stroll through a CGI rainbow paradise. What any of this had to do with the product, who knows? But hey, it was well-executed, but for one thing I can't help but point out.
While Ms. Murphy may have 'face' as modeling circles say, what she lacks considerably is the ability to dance. Her clumsy hand jiving to the sky makes the Lillith Fair man-hater bop look like the fucking Soul Train line.
So that commercial comes and goes, when lo and behold, I see a clip of Madonna's newest music video. It's the fucking commerical all over again! And I don't think this is a case of marketing synergy.
The only difference is this time the white women in the clip (Madge) can dance, but has absolutely no 'face'. Her aged gap-tooth grins sapped all my fucking love profusion, that's for damn sure.
So Carolyn Murphy, please enroll in a dance class somewhere.
And Madge, um, how are your children's books selling?
"And a love profusion. (Isn't that some hair care shit or a flavor of mystic?) It makes me feel like..."
Nice tune, perfectly suited to model/spokesperson Carolyn Murphy's stroll through a CGI rainbow paradise. What any of this had to do with the product, who knows? But hey, it was well-executed, but for one thing I can't help but point out.
While Ms. Murphy may have 'face' as modeling circles say, what she lacks considerably is the ability to dance. Her clumsy hand jiving to the sky makes the Lillith Fair man-hater bop look like the fucking Soul Train line.
So that commercial comes and goes, when lo and behold, I see a clip of Madonna's newest music video. It's the fucking commerical all over again! And I don't think this is a case of marketing synergy.
The only difference is this time the white women in the clip (Madge) can dance, but has absolutely no 'face'. Her aged gap-tooth grins sapped all my fucking love profusion, that's for damn sure.
So Carolyn Murphy, please enroll in a dance class somewhere.
And Madge, um, how are your children's books selling?
I must be getting old, because until yesterday, I didn't know my Lindsey Lohan from my Hilary Duff. Lohan's the hottest thing with the tweeny-boppin' set at the moment. Her and Duff both sing and act. And both hail from Nickleodeon projects.
How to tell them apart? Lohan looks like a healthy Kate Hudson, while Duff used to date Aaron Carter. (How soon before he bloats up, develops a nasty coke habit and kills his manager mom? Actually methinks Nick'll get there first.)
Why do I know this?
How to tell them apart? Lohan looks like a healthy Kate Hudson, while Duff used to date Aaron Carter. (How soon before he bloats up, develops a nasty coke habit and kills his manager mom? Actually methinks Nick'll get there first.)
Why do I know this?
Spotted a red mid-90's model Chevy Lumina...
...WITH them rims that spin!
C'mon, what the fuck was running through this guy's mind?
"Ain't no other Loomenah gotz deez. I'ma be the hot shit fo real! Next time, I'z get that blazin' sticka sayes LUMA on my winshill. 1!"
I swear, the manufacturers should direct after-market car shops to resist putting their rims on any fucking lemons.
...WITH them rims that spin!
C'mon, what the fuck was running through this guy's mind?
"Ain't no other Loomenah gotz deez. I'ma be the hot shit fo real! Next time, I'z get that blazin' sticka sayes LUMA on my winshill. 1!"
I swear, the manufacturers should direct after-market car shops to resist putting their rims on any fucking lemons.
I made the strangest connection today.
Check it:
JC Chasez
and
Norman Lache-Simpson (Nick's brother-in-training)
are both suffering from the pretensions of their surnames.
JC (What is that anyway? Jesus Christ? Jeri Curl?) Chasez forces you to make this 'say' sound when pronouncing his last name. Same thing with Norman's maiden name.
And just look at what it costs them.
JC got booted off the Pro Bowl, and his album must compete with the solo debut of fellow 'Sync'er JT's (We're cool like that. Ha!) From what I've heard, it ain't bad but his performances are about as sexy and exciting as that hip-hop violin chick or that group of classically trained violinists who dress provocatively. And his backup dancers are busted. Always a sign of bad news. Seems JC knows this. You can read it on his face. Poor kid. He should know, you can't half-step the fashion mullet! You must commit or snip snip. None of this gel shit.
Now Norman Lache is also suffering, just not on such a grand scale. He's been relegated to supporting character in his brother's reality show. And even that ain't working too well. Could be worse though. At least he ain't releasing Soul-O Too.
Moral of this insanity.
Chasez should rhyme with Pez unless you have some weird squiggly shit or a beret on it. And Lache has the root word ache in it. I'll say no more.
Check it:
JC Chasez
and
Norman Lache-Simpson (Nick's brother-in-training)
are both suffering from the pretensions of their surnames.
JC (What is that anyway? Jesus Christ? Jeri Curl?) Chasez forces you to make this 'say' sound when pronouncing his last name. Same thing with Norman's maiden name.
And just look at what it costs them.
JC got booted off the Pro Bowl, and his album must compete with the solo debut of fellow 'Sync'er JT's (We're cool like that. Ha!) From what I've heard, it ain't bad but his performances are about as sexy and exciting as that hip-hop violin chick or that group of classically trained violinists who dress provocatively. And his backup dancers are busted. Always a sign of bad news. Seems JC knows this. You can read it on his face. Poor kid. He should know, you can't half-step the fashion mullet! You must commit or snip snip. None of this gel shit.
Now Norman Lache is also suffering, just not on such a grand scale. He's been relegated to supporting character in his brother's reality show. And even that ain't working too well. Could be worse though. At least he ain't releasing Soul-O Too.
Moral of this insanity.
Chasez should rhyme with Pez unless you have some weird squiggly shit or a beret on it. And Lache has the root word ache in it. I'll say no more.
A few weeks ago, one of the 'Extended Universe' line of Star Wars books (Y'know, for the literate fan whose thirst for light sabers, justice and the Mon Calamarian way goes unquenched by the 15 billion licensed doo-dads approved by el jefe Jorge on a weekly basis.) posted a cover featuring the first image of a supposed Episode III villain. Some egg-head thing with a cloak (Ooh, mysterious!) and spear, a black-and-white precursor to the red imperial guard who make up the Emperor's entourage. (You think Hammer had a large group of freeloaders? Meh, the Emperor employs half the galaxy just to stand around and say, "You Rebel Scum!", in Olde English. Now that's a goode day o worke!)
At first, I thought Georgie Porgie may be trying to pull the wool over our eyes, like the time everyone thought the bounty hunter with a thermal detonator in ROTJ was the coolest five foot-tall tough guy in pleated Cavaricci's ever, when in fact, it was only Leia in disguise, foreshadowing Carrie Fisher's eventual psychological problems.
So there I was thinking Luca$ was set to pull a Crying Game on us and what do I read today? The new villain is part robot, part life form or some shit. WTF? And the new picture of the bioengineered mess shows what could only be described as the Spiderman villain Carnage in black-and-white wearing a cape.
Oh, and this hodgepodge CGI fucker is also noted as being a master strategist. Um...right. Grand Admiral Thrawn meets the body suit guy from Electric Company. Me no think so.
But the best part is the animated fucko's name. Get this: General Grievous. Hey, at least Luc-ass is consistent. All the names he gives to characters in his prequels make the Power Ranger's Rita Repulsa sound like the coolest name ever! Well-researched and alliteration aplenty!
At first, I thought Georgie Porgie may be trying to pull the wool over our eyes, like the time everyone thought the bounty hunter with a thermal detonator in ROTJ was the coolest five foot-tall tough guy in pleated Cavaricci's ever, when in fact, it was only Leia in disguise, foreshadowing Carrie Fisher's eventual psychological problems.
So there I was thinking Luca$ was set to pull a Crying Game on us and what do I read today? The new villain is part robot, part life form or some shit. WTF? And the new picture of the bioengineered mess shows what could only be described as the Spiderman villain Carnage in black-and-white wearing a cape.
Oh, and this hodgepodge CGI fucker is also noted as being a master strategist. Um...right. Grand Admiral Thrawn meets the body suit guy from Electric Company. Me no think so.
But the best part is the animated fucko's name. Get this: General Grievous. Hey, at least Luc-ass is consistent. All the names he gives to characters in his prequels make the Power Ranger's Rita Repulsa sound like the coolest name ever! Well-researched and alliteration aplenty!
Thursday, February 19, 2004
I'm not much into politics, unless you consider pointing out which candidates are funny looking, and laughing being 'into' politics.
But guess what? My wife seems to be a pretty astute political analyst. Just last night she tells me, "Y'know that Kerry guy kinda reminds me of Honkey from The Jeffersons."
Oh, how I love this woman.
But guess what? My wife seems to be a pretty astute political analyst. Just last night she tells me, "Y'know that Kerry guy kinda reminds me of Honkey from The Jeffersons."
Oh, how I love this woman.
Some movies suck so much ass, their marketing campaigns are pointless. For example, the new Meg Ryan/Omar Epps flick (simply typing those names together creates the stench of fecal matter on my screen; serious, try it), entitled um...let's say Doesn't Matter. No one-sheet design, no trailer before blockbusters, no free admission mailed to every household in the world can save this movie from opening to empty theaters.
I'll bet Doesn't Matter can't even get the critics who provide blurbs for dreck like EuroTrip to do the same for it's stank ass.
In case you don't know what I'm yakking about: Blurbs are the lines on movie ads set in 256 point type with numerous exclamation points, while the critic and his or her media outlet's name require a monocle to decipher.
Doesn't Matter won't even get 60-Second Preview's film expert (Ha!) to say one good thing. If I'm wrong, I've seriously underestimated the power of cashola.
Why am I writing Doesn't Matter off?
Quick synopsis: Meg Ryan plays a boxing promoter. Nothing further needs to be said.
Was Ali's daughter too booked or still stuck in the 60's with that retarded commercial?
Let's get this out of the way. Meg Ryan is no Don King. Hell, she isn't even a Lou Duva. They are way smarter than her for one thing. More importantly, neither of these promotional titans of the ring have ever gone under the knife. (Backstabbing boxers doesn't count.)
The only connection between Meg Ryan and boxing is the putty mess smack in the middle of her face. Only the pummeling power of a heavyweight could explain those new lips. Her recently inflated pair has Lisa Rinna AND Harry Hamlin shaking in their designer boots.
I mean, what, first Ms. Ryan corners the cutesy roles, now the freakishly large mutant-lipped roles? Gawd, someone stop this Ryan beast!
I wonder if Nora Ephron is working on another script just for the new sexed-up Ryan. When Colagen Met Meg?
Onto the appeal of Ms. Ryan. Sorry, can't find any.
Onto who watches her cutesy performances? Must be women who feel she's safe. I figure most females of the human race find Ms. Ryan cute enough to get noticed by the average male human. But not in that sexually desirable kind of way. More like the okay she's thin and speaks English kind of way.
Ms. Ryan possesses an odd noggin', one more at home on the shoulders of a Keebler elf. Worse, her hair looks like shit. Plus, her button-cute facial features could be found on the majority of homeless children, teenage prostitutes and your average runaway. Basically, nothing special.
I feel for her though. She can't hold her own against other actors, and her looks...let's just say she hit the wall harder than the fucking Kool Aid guy.
Wait a minute. What about Omar Epps you say. He was okay in Juice. Other than that, all I know is that when approached at local pizzerias, Mr. Epps is genuine and friendly. In other words, he hasn't quite made it yet.
If you insist on throwing away your money and actually watch Doesn't Matter on the big screen (even after reading this), please do me a favor: Let me know the title so as to avoid it like the motherfucking plague.
I'll bet Doesn't Matter can't even get the critics who provide blurbs for dreck like EuroTrip to do the same for it's stank ass.
In case you don't know what I'm yakking about: Blurbs are the lines on movie ads set in 256 point type with numerous exclamation points, while the critic and his or her media outlet's name require a monocle to decipher.
Doesn't Matter won't even get 60-Second Preview's film expert (Ha!) to say one good thing. If I'm wrong, I've seriously underestimated the power of cashola.
Why am I writing Doesn't Matter off?
Quick synopsis: Meg Ryan plays a boxing promoter. Nothing further needs to be said.
Was Ali's daughter too booked or still stuck in the 60's with that retarded commercial?
Let's get this out of the way. Meg Ryan is no Don King. Hell, she isn't even a Lou Duva. They are way smarter than her for one thing. More importantly, neither of these promotional titans of the ring have ever gone under the knife. (Backstabbing boxers doesn't count.)
The only connection between Meg Ryan and boxing is the putty mess smack in the middle of her face. Only the pummeling power of a heavyweight could explain those new lips. Her recently inflated pair has Lisa Rinna AND Harry Hamlin shaking in their designer boots.
I mean, what, first Ms. Ryan corners the cutesy roles, now the freakishly large mutant-lipped roles? Gawd, someone stop this Ryan beast!
I wonder if Nora Ephron is working on another script just for the new sexed-up Ryan. When Colagen Met Meg?
Onto the appeal of Ms. Ryan. Sorry, can't find any.
Onto who watches her cutesy performances? Must be women who feel she's safe. I figure most females of the human race find Ms. Ryan cute enough to get noticed by the average male human. But not in that sexually desirable kind of way. More like the okay she's thin and speaks English kind of way.
Ms. Ryan possesses an odd noggin', one more at home on the shoulders of a Keebler elf. Worse, her hair looks like shit. Plus, her button-cute facial features could be found on the majority of homeless children, teenage prostitutes and your average runaway. Basically, nothing special.
I feel for her though. She can't hold her own against other actors, and her looks...let's just say she hit the wall harder than the fucking Kool Aid guy.
Wait a minute. What about Omar Epps you say. He was okay in Juice. Other than that, all I know is that when approached at local pizzerias, Mr. Epps is genuine and friendly. In other words, he hasn't quite made it yet.
If you insist on throwing away your money and actually watch Doesn't Matter on the big screen (even after reading this), please do me a favor: Let me know the title so as to avoid it like the motherfucking plague.
Truly sad news.
Howard Dean has pulled out of the presidential race.
Where will we get our political comedy from now? Bush's dyslexic speeches are so tired already.
Dean was a beacon of unintentional humor in a sea of polished orators more concerned with addressing 'serious' issues than with strecthing the collective American smile from coast to coast.
And for this, I salute you Howie!
Thanks for the memories.
I doubt I will ever see as dignified a man go completely ape-shit whilst on a podium delivering a speech. You came closest to realizing my dream of a real-life Bonkers commercial. I could almost envision a huge pack of Grape candy falling out of the sky, smashing you on the head, and giving you the inspiration to yelp for days.
But your accomplishments amount to more than this.
Who could ever forget how your howls singlehandedly got us through many a bored afternoon. And the remixes! I hate to come off sounding like that Lipton guy from Inside the Actor's Studio, but you my friend, have elevated Crazy Train and Welcome to the Jungle from mere rock songs to classics of the modern era. Somewhere in heaven, there are seraphim prancing to your every screech. Your post-puberty relapse is an inspiration to us all.
I pray to God that in my later years, when the wife and I plan our lives around Friday Night Bingo, we enjoy a number caller suffering from something similar to Dean mania.
Howard Dean has pulled out of the presidential race.
Where will we get our political comedy from now? Bush's dyslexic speeches are so tired already.
Dean was a beacon of unintentional humor in a sea of polished orators more concerned with addressing 'serious' issues than with strecthing the collective American smile from coast to coast.
And for this, I salute you Howie!
Thanks for the memories.
I doubt I will ever see as dignified a man go completely ape-shit whilst on a podium delivering a speech. You came closest to realizing my dream of a real-life Bonkers commercial. I could almost envision a huge pack of Grape candy falling out of the sky, smashing you on the head, and giving you the inspiration to yelp for days.
But your accomplishments amount to more than this.
Who could ever forget how your howls singlehandedly got us through many a bored afternoon. And the remixes! I hate to come off sounding like that Lipton guy from Inside the Actor's Studio, but you my friend, have elevated Crazy Train and Welcome to the Jungle from mere rock songs to classics of the modern era. Somewhere in heaven, there are seraphim prancing to your every screech. Your post-puberty relapse is an inspiration to us all.
I pray to God that in my later years, when the wife and I plan our lives around Friday Night Bingo, we enjoy a number caller suffering from something similar to Dean mania.
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
Last minute update.
Reuters is reporting that Sex and the City may continue on the big-screen. Knee-jerk (emphasis on jerk) reaction:
For all those who felt Sarah Jessica Parker's nose was too big for their television sets... A fucking HDTV broadcast couldn't capture the genetic freakiness known as her proboscis.
Reuters is reporting that Sex and the City may continue on the big-screen. Knee-jerk (emphasis on jerk) reaction:
For all those who felt Sarah Jessica Parker's nose was too big for their television sets... A fucking HDTV broadcast couldn't capture the genetic freakiness known as her proboscis.
Here are two albums I've been listening to, and some thoughts.
David Bisbel - Buleria
Picked this up somewhere and was surprised. This kid performed on the Latin Grammys (?) and pumped some life into the bloated telecast. It was right up there with that one time Ricky Martin didn't suck. Anyway, from what my research department has uncovered, this kid won the Spanish equivalent of American Idol and his first album sold millions.
A shame his name is as bad as it is. You half expect it to be the first album by that skinny, greasy flamenco dancer el greco (or whatever the fuck he calls himself). The title of the disc doesn't help. Listen to the title track and you'll swear it's the catchiest ode to Bulgaria (?) ever penned.
On a whole, the disc ain't half bad. In fact, it's pretty good. 6 tracks are ballads, of the Enrique or Alejandro variety. 6 tracks are fast ala Ricky Martin. Throughout all 12, there's that annoying cleft palette sound perfected by Spaniards since the dawn of gum disease and nasal cavity afflictions. Good news: There's a bit of Gypsy Kings-style shit in everything.
Give it a spin; you may surprise yourself. Whatever you do, don't look the kid up. As soon as you see him, unless you're a 13 year-old girl or just feel like a 13 year-old girl, you will be faced with the uncontrollable desire to vomit. He's (fingers as quotes) cute as a button (fingers as quotes). Just what you'd expect from our new generation of pop stars. But hey, I don't care. 's long as it sounds aight, I'm cool -- even if it is just studio magic.
Kanye West - College Dropout
Speaking of studio magic, this cat's supposed to be the fucking Gandalf of the ghetto. Dunno about that, but his name kicks ass. Kanye West sounds like a respectable porn star, or the African Batman's real name.
On the first listen, one track stood out like Yao Ming in the Shirewood. Kanye's Workout is as catchy as Hey Ya without being nearly so innocent. Shit is hilarious. Buy the album just for this track. That's how funny it is. I don't know why his label didn't lead with it instead of that my-jaw-wired-shut track set to a sample of Through the Fire. Regardless, the whole album felt like a black Eminem with Kanye beats and samples. Not a bad thing. No, no, far from a bad thing. Peep it!
David Bisbel - Buleria
Picked this up somewhere and was surprised. This kid performed on the Latin Grammys (?) and pumped some life into the bloated telecast. It was right up there with that one time Ricky Martin didn't suck. Anyway, from what my research department has uncovered, this kid won the Spanish equivalent of American Idol and his first album sold millions.
A shame his name is as bad as it is. You half expect it to be the first album by that skinny, greasy flamenco dancer el greco (or whatever the fuck he calls himself). The title of the disc doesn't help. Listen to the title track and you'll swear it's the catchiest ode to Bulgaria (?) ever penned.
On a whole, the disc ain't half bad. In fact, it's pretty good. 6 tracks are ballads, of the Enrique or Alejandro variety. 6 tracks are fast ala Ricky Martin. Throughout all 12, there's that annoying cleft palette sound perfected by Spaniards since the dawn of gum disease and nasal cavity afflictions. Good news: There's a bit of Gypsy Kings-style shit in everything.
Give it a spin; you may surprise yourself. Whatever you do, don't look the kid up. As soon as you see him, unless you're a 13 year-old girl or just feel like a 13 year-old girl, you will be faced with the uncontrollable desire to vomit. He's (fingers as quotes) cute as a button (fingers as quotes). Just what you'd expect from our new generation of pop stars. But hey, I don't care. 's long as it sounds aight, I'm cool -- even if it is just studio magic.
Kanye West - College Dropout
Speaking of studio magic, this cat's supposed to be the fucking Gandalf of the ghetto. Dunno about that, but his name kicks ass. Kanye West sounds like a respectable porn star, or the African Batman's real name.
On the first listen, one track stood out like Yao Ming in the Shirewood. Kanye's Workout is as catchy as Hey Ya without being nearly so innocent. Shit is hilarious. Buy the album just for this track. That's how funny it is. I don't know why his label didn't lead with it instead of that my-jaw-wired-shut track set to a sample of Through the Fire. Regardless, the whole album felt like a black Eminem with Kanye beats and samples. Not a bad thing. No, no, far from a bad thing. Peep it!
Oh, the ongoing saga of William Hung. Last night ET had him in the studio with a vocal coach as he went through verbal exercises and renditions of the inevitable "She Bangs" by Ricky Martin and "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" by Elton John. All of which he proceeded to mispronounce and stutter. Shit. If Corky from Life Goes On cut an album, it'd sound better than Mr. Hung.
The keeper, which ET played about 312 times during the segment was when Mr. Hung sang a line involving the word 'vagabonds'. It sounded closer to wagabonds, and I doubt Mr. Hung is of Austrian or German descent.
Yet through it all was Mary Hart, cheering him on through more facial wrinkles than your average shar-pei. (I think her grill should definitely cancel out whatever insurance policy her gams may have left.)
The whole thing was just wrong.
Though I can't help but wonder where the fuck Senor Vida Loca is. Smell the free publicity through your Sun-In bangs, you fucking ambassador of Menudo. Ricky should have been on a plane to meet the kid ASAP. On second thought, considering Ricky's feeble singing ability, maybe not. There is the possibility of Mr. Hung upstaging him. Now that would be an act of goodwill, worthy of our cheers.
The keeper, which ET played about 312 times during the segment was when Mr. Hung sang a line involving the word 'vagabonds'. It sounded closer to wagabonds, and I doubt Mr. Hung is of Austrian or German descent.
Yet through it all was Mary Hart, cheering him on through more facial wrinkles than your average shar-pei. (I think her grill should definitely cancel out whatever insurance policy her gams may have left.)
The whole thing was just wrong.
Though I can't help but wonder where the fuck Senor Vida Loca is. Smell the free publicity through your Sun-In bangs, you fucking ambassador of Menudo. Ricky should have been on a plane to meet the kid ASAP. On second thought, considering Ricky's feeble singing ability, maybe not. There is the possibility of Mr. Hung upstaging him. Now that would be an act of goodwill, worthy of our cheers.
Right about now, even Don King must feel like baseball's somehow fixed. This week, the NY Yankees acquired one Alex Rodriguez, the best player in the majors. I forget the details of his contract, but I'm sure he's getting more per season than the GNP of several island nations combined.
See what happens when the Bronx Bombers lose! It's really a no-win situation for the rest of the teams out there in Bumfuck, South Dakota. Just give up. Of course, I jest. But the latest addition to the Yankee empire does bring up a few questions.
Like where the fuck did the nickname A-Rod come from? That has got to be the lamest nickname in the history of professional sports. For NY, a town rich in colorful nicknames like Mr. October, Dr. K and the Lion Lady, A-Rod is a step-down. I can only assume that the name is the result of some strange tactic to make Alex Rodriguez more accesible to the average Gringo Q. Public. (For some reason, I'm picturing Lou Diamond Phillips as Ritchie Valens. A guy changing his name to play another guy changing his name! Kudos to the casting department on La Bamba! Your glory is long overdue!)
It must have been the last name that forced the issue. Everyone can pronounce Alex. Not the case with Rodriguez. That rolling of the R always stumps even the most polished of baseball announcers. Then again, the Yankees could afford to hire Andres Cantor (the lovable Latin lug who screams GOL!, while announcing futbol matches across South America) to pronounce A-Rod's God-given name whenever he does anything. Shit, that would prolly get Cantor the biggest payhike in the history of Latino television announcers, going all the way back to Teh Cum Se Buffer, whose silky voice and expert line delivery made every decapitated head flying through rings of fire really come alive!
As I was typing this, a fellow coworker caught some of it over my shoulder. He proceeded to disagree with me, claiming A-Rod was a great nickname. This man's name is Jim.
Somewhere in Havana, or the Dominican Republic aka Washington Heights, there is a set of parents who spent weeks weeding through book after book of baby names, finally settling on Alex, and for what? Fucking A.
Correction. I believe A-Rod's true father can still be found Monday-Friday on daytime television. Veteran of countless soaps, A Martinez has kept his son in the dark for far too long. Years of minimal SAG pay and a sagging career dictate the time is ripe for A to let A know where he got his A from.
A-Rod? Like Hot Rod? Like Rod & Todd?
Sad but true, it will take all of one poor at-bat for NY'ers to baptize him A-Hole, if Texans haven't already done so.
Last night on the evening news, a group of sports reporters cornered Steinbrenner leaving the Bomber's Spring Training facilities down in sunny Florida. Wearing his CHIPS sunglasses and a toothpick firmly between teeth, he proclaimed the addition good news. More importantly, he managed to hide his true message inside one of bullshit family. Haha. Right. He called A-Rod a great person and his wife 'a nice girl'. What the fuck is that? A nice girl? Dunno about you, but I don't want my boss referring to my wife as a 'nice girl'. Fresh off his sensitive appearance on Donald Trump's The Apprentice, where Ol Steinbrenner managed to win over countless women, he goes and says this?!
And how the fuck does Jeter feel? Kinda like me if Shakespeare were my new intern. Well, at least Derek's still got the whole biracial thing all to himself.
Without further ado, I present the A-Rod alphabet:
A-Team
B-Real
CT (some caveman from Road Rules/Real World)
D-Nice
EE Cummings
F150 (Yee-haaw!)
G-Unit
HHH (Or Mr. Triple H, if you prefer.)
I-Pod
JC Chasez
K9
LL for the urbanites, L Ron Hubbard for the Scientologists
M Night Shamalamading-Dong
NSync
O-Town
PDiddy
Q-Bert
R&R
SNL
T Coraghassen Boyle
UB-40
VD
WD-40
XTC
Y15 (I sunk your battleship! Sorry, couldn't think of any.)
ZZ Top
One last thing about A-Rod,
Let's Go Mets!
See what happens when the Bronx Bombers lose! It's really a no-win situation for the rest of the teams out there in Bumfuck, South Dakota. Just give up. Of course, I jest. But the latest addition to the Yankee empire does bring up a few questions.
Like where the fuck did the nickname A-Rod come from? That has got to be the lamest nickname in the history of professional sports. For NY, a town rich in colorful nicknames like Mr. October, Dr. K and the Lion Lady, A-Rod is a step-down. I can only assume that the name is the result of some strange tactic to make Alex Rodriguez more accesible to the average Gringo Q. Public. (For some reason, I'm picturing Lou Diamond Phillips as Ritchie Valens. A guy changing his name to play another guy changing his name! Kudos to the casting department on La Bamba! Your glory is long overdue!)
It must have been the last name that forced the issue. Everyone can pronounce Alex. Not the case with Rodriguez. That rolling of the R always stumps even the most polished of baseball announcers. Then again, the Yankees could afford to hire Andres Cantor (the lovable Latin lug who screams GOL!, while announcing futbol matches across South America) to pronounce A-Rod's God-given name whenever he does anything. Shit, that would prolly get Cantor the biggest payhike in the history of Latino television announcers, going all the way back to Teh Cum Se Buffer, whose silky voice and expert line delivery made every decapitated head flying through rings of fire really come alive!
As I was typing this, a fellow coworker caught some of it over my shoulder. He proceeded to disagree with me, claiming A-Rod was a great nickname. This man's name is Jim.
Somewhere in Havana, or the Dominican Republic aka Washington Heights, there is a set of parents who spent weeks weeding through book after book of baby names, finally settling on Alex, and for what? Fucking A.
Correction. I believe A-Rod's true father can still be found Monday-Friday on daytime television. Veteran of countless soaps, A Martinez has kept his son in the dark for far too long. Years of minimal SAG pay and a sagging career dictate the time is ripe for A to let A know where he got his A from.
A-Rod? Like Hot Rod? Like Rod & Todd?
Sad but true, it will take all of one poor at-bat for NY'ers to baptize him A-Hole, if Texans haven't already done so.
Last night on the evening news, a group of sports reporters cornered Steinbrenner leaving the Bomber's Spring Training facilities down in sunny Florida. Wearing his CHIPS sunglasses and a toothpick firmly between teeth, he proclaimed the addition good news. More importantly, he managed to hide his true message inside one of bullshit family. Haha. Right. He called A-Rod a great person and his wife 'a nice girl'. What the fuck is that? A nice girl? Dunno about you, but I don't want my boss referring to my wife as a 'nice girl'. Fresh off his sensitive appearance on Donald Trump's The Apprentice, where Ol Steinbrenner managed to win over countless women, he goes and says this?!
And how the fuck does Jeter feel? Kinda like me if Shakespeare were my new intern. Well, at least Derek's still got the whole biracial thing all to himself.
Without further ado, I present the A-Rod alphabet:
A-Team
B-Real
CT (some caveman from Road Rules/Real World)
D-Nice
EE Cummings
F150 (Yee-haaw!)
G-Unit
HHH (Or Mr. Triple H, if you prefer.)
I-Pod
JC Chasez
K9
LL for the urbanites, L Ron Hubbard for the Scientologists
M Night Shamalamading-Dong
NSync
O-Town
PDiddy
Q-Bert
R&R
SNL
T Coraghassen Boyle
UB-40
VD
WD-40
XTC
Y15 (I sunk your battleship! Sorry, couldn't think of any.)
ZZ Top
One last thing about A-Rod,
Let's Go Mets!
