Subtle Bluntness

Blame my blogless friend Andrew for this gem.

Before the final match, the Norwegian wrestling coach came to Ole and said, “Now, don’t forget all the research we’ve done on this Russian. He’s never lost a match because of this ‘pretzel’ hold he has”. Whatever you do, do not let him get you in that hold! If he does, you’re finished’.

Ole nodded in acknowledgment.

As the match started, Ole and the Russian circled each other several times, looking for an opening. All of a sudden, the Russian lunged forward, grabbing Ole and wrapping him up in the dreaded pretzel hold A sigh of disappointment arose from the crowd and the coach buried his face in his hands, for he knew all was lost. He couldn’t watch the inevitable happen.

Suddenly, there was a scream, then a cheer from the crowd and the coach raised his eyes just in time to watch the Russian go flying up in the air. His back hit the mat with a thud and Ole collapsed on top of him making the pin and winning the match.

The crowd went crazy. The coach was astounded.

When he finally got his wrestler alone, he asked, “How did you ever get out of that hold? No one has ever done it before!”

Ole answered, “Vell, I vas ready to give up ven he got me in dat hold, but at da last moment, I opened my eyes and saw dis pair of testicles right in front of my face…I had nuttin’ to lose so wid my last ounce of strength I stretched out my neck and bit dose babies just as hard as I could.”

So the trainer exclaimed, “That’s what finished him off!”

“Vel not really. You’d be amazed how strong you get ven you bite your own nuts!”

From Attack of the Show via io9, here’s Rob Zombie’s Where The Wild Things Are.  I have to say, it looks like my kind of kaiju movie!  Anything involving the Wild Things bathing in blood I’m in favor of.

So, Zombieland.  I got to see it this weekend and, in a word:  awesome.  In two words?  Fucking awesome.  It was this weekend’s big hit and nobody I know who saw it has a bad word to say about it.  Check their blogs and see if you don’t believe me. (And if you don’t buy into what I have to say by now, then why are you reading this?  You can disagree, but they haven’t bought my soul or my reviewing pen.  Yet.  Call me, Hollywood!  We’ll talk!)

Kind of disappointed I didn’t get a chocolate ear, but that’s what I get for going to the last showing on Sunday rather than the midnight screening.  In spite of everything, the theater was PACKED at 10 PM on Sunday, and I’m planning on going back again next weekend with my dad.  Good times, people.  Really good times.

Gonna do something a little different today, gang.  I wrote a nice review of Funny People for Den of Geek (number one at the box office, and number one in our hearts), but not only was it a little long, it was a little inappropriate for the audience involved.  Mostly because people couldn’t care less about me and how the movie affected me personally.  Since I’m not Judd Apatow, I can’t get away with shoving whatever I want into my reviews, but sometimes the stuff I cut out is actually good, so I figure… why not make this a regular feature?  Or at least an occasional feature.

Funny People–The Director’s Cut

This is kind of a dangerous film in some ways. At least it was for me. I’m in a bit of a transitionary period in my life. My birthday is this week, as is my ten-year high school reunion (he says, knowing no one gives a damn). I’m in that area where I need to start growing up and settling down, because I’m not getting any younger and my hair isn’t getting any thicker or less gray. I’m basically at the point where chasing my dreams starts butting heads with the fact I’m too goddamn old to fuck off to LA to write screenplays and wait tables. Or do whatever in the hell it is I dream of doing. I don’t even know anymore.

That’s where the movie hits hardest for me. Every step forward leaves something behind. Every path not taken could lead to an entirely different world. Sometimes we can go back and change things; sometimes all we can do from our past mistakes is learn. Growth is seldom easy, life is not neatly contained. There’s always going to be a girl (or guy) that got away. No matter who you are, there’s always some tragic love affair gone wrong, a chance not taken, a lover spurned that you never quite get over.

That’s life. It’s not comedy or drama. It’s not friends or acquaintances or lovers. Life is just a journey: full of twists and turns and missed chances and fuck-ups and broken hearts. Maybe you can’t win back your one true love, but you can learn from your mistakes and make new ones the next time.

Author’s note:  No, I’m not narcissistic enough to do this every time I cut shit out of a review, only when I cut out shit I actually like.  Trust me, that’s very rare.  I’d have continued onward with the thoughts, but the train has long since derailed now.

So Farrah Fawcett died and went to heaven.  God asked her, “You can have one wish, what would you like done on earth?”

She says, “Save the suffering children.”

So God kills Michael Jackson.

Author’s Note: No, I didn’t write this one, but it was sent to me.  Yes, I know it’s bad.

So the swine flu is coming to kill you and rape your pets.  Now you can either go read what the government and science has to say about our latest super disease and either be scared out of your wits or you can go read a list of things I’ve learned about virus outbreaks from the movies and be adequately prepared for how the end of the world will really go down.  It’s up to you.

You have two choices.  Well, three, but only two choices that matter.  You can go down the left hand path and trust in a government that has lied to us since George Washington had his wooden teeth whitewashed to look like real people teeth.  You can go down the right hand path and trust in Hollywood, which always tells the truth (provided the truth has gun fights, a shower scene, and at least one slow motion ‘running down a hallway away from a giant fireball’ scene).  You can go down both paths and figure out which one you like best.

Or you can go down neither path and continue to live in your blissfully ignorant world of blissful ignorance.  The truth is a scary place.  Rated R, no one under 17 permitted without parent or guardian.

Video: TV Squad

This is hilarious.  I’m just glad I’m a professional, so New Batman doesn’t yell at me.

So people send me DVDs.  I write reviews of them and link to them.  People read them and tell me I suck or that I am awesome.  If they tell me I’m awesome, I know they’re smart and handsome people.  If they tell me I suck, I know that they should probably be issued helmets and drool bibs.

I got to watch and review the Simon Pegg vehicle How To Lose Friends and Alienate People for Kiwibox.  Go check it out.  If you’re one of the five people who’ve seen the movie, lemme know what you thought.  I’ll get the box of drool bibs open, just in case.

I think one of the things I appreciated most about the movie is how anybody who has ever been paid to do something they love could watch it and either remember when they made that big scary decision to stop fucking around and just either sink or swim or hope that one day they’ll get that call up to the big leagues of whateverdom.

I know a guy who moved to California to wait tablesbe a screenwriter.   Do I think he’s crazy for doing it?  Yeah, kind of.  Do I hope he becomes the next Judd Apatow so I can use my connection with him to launch my own series of mediocre horror films of consistently declining quality?  Totally.  Would I be able to do something that gutsy on my own?  No, probably not.

Hell, in the movie Sidney Young (and in real life Toby Young) started a magazine, then dumped that magazine to go write for Sharps (Vanity Fair).  I, uh… started some websites and, when I was at a point where I could either get busy working for myself or dial it back and keep my day job, chose to keep my day job.  It was probably the best decision at the time, given that I was tired of the freelance job that was paying me best and I could see the writing on the wall that it was going to come to an end sooner, rather than later.

If I had held on, could I have used it to get somewhere else?  Probably.  But it wasn’t exactly what I wanted to do.  I want to write, not be a marketing-bot with a personality.

There’s another opportunity (with a profitable website conglomerate that I shant mention) that I missed out on because of my day job.  I would’ve loved to have had that writing and editing, as it is exactly what I want (and what I’m doing for myself and as a freelancer anyway).  Would it still be there now?  That I don’t know.  It was a temporary position for six months and only about 30 hours a week at that; it either could have taken off or I might have been looking for a new job by now.

If I had known then what I know now, I would’ve given up the day job in a heartbeat.  Even this gig, as secure and permanent as it seemed, isn’t terribly secure anymore.  My freelance stuff is getting better and better, and I’m kind of getting the itch to push it and see how far it might take me.  I’ll take six months and 30 hours a week of something with a potential future over a full-time semi-guarantee of something that’s wasting my time, life, and talent.

The SportsBastards BastardCast Episode 5 is up and ready for your ears.  This week, find out about just how bad of an idea it is to have prunes and coffee for breakfast, the defensive coordinator for Team Mexico during the upcoming race war, staph infections and the epic fail that is the Cleveland Browns janitorial staff, and of course, Ron Jaworski’s insatiable need for penetration.

Side note, there are serious volume issues in this week’s podcast, and I have no idea why.  I’m going to try out something different next week in an attempt to make me louder, because next week I’m going to be singing.  On the podcast.  I’ve been working on a spoof song and everything!  (Don’t worry, if you’re not interested in sports but you still want to hear my song, I’ll get it out of the way early so you don’t have to listen past the first five minutes.)

Who was Rudy Ray Moore?  Well, I’ll let the man himself tell you.

You can read my tribute at that link up there, but I don’t think anyone can pay homage to Dolemite moreso than the human blaxploitation parody (and my favorite rapper of all time), Ol’ Dirty Bastard.  Take it away, Big Baby Jesus: