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The year is 1998, and the world learns that George Michael is gay. He is arrested for performing a lewd act in a public restroom, and his homosexuality becomes a matter of public record. America plays along, and acts like this is news.
“George Michael? Gay? Nooooo.”
This is all part of our cultural don’t ask, don’t tell policy with our Good As You neighbors. Seriously, everyone knew George liked penis. He started his career by wearing fluorescent pink shirts and singing gender ambiguous love ballads in a solid soprano. His first record was called “Wham! Make It Big!” for Liberace’s sake.
“So what’s the point, Napalm?”
Well the point is: Jake Gyllenhal has a little film coming out called Jarhead. Now I have a certain stake in this film being good. No, I didn’t work on it, although I fucking should have. I killed more Iraqis in the first Gulf War than the entire 1st Calvary Division. My stake is that it’s a movie about my beloved Corps, and it had better be fucking great. If it isn’t at least good, I may have to pull a Col. Frank Fitts, USMC on Sam Mendes, and I am not talking about the kissing part.
Oh yeah, the point. Well despite whispers about the sexual predilection of the films’ star Mr. Gyllenhal, I hope my less tolerant readers in the South will still give the movie a chance. I know he kissed a man in the Ang Lee art-house flick Gay Cowboys, or whatever it was called, but let’s abide by the don’t ask, don’t tell policy and go into Jarhead with an open mind.
Besides, it’s not terribly far-fetched to have unannounced ladies on the frontlines. Corporal John “Twinkles” McElroy, USMC, was not exactly what you would call a man’s man, but he killed as many [Vietcong] as any of us. Shit, maybe more. When we went into a new village, I’m pretty sure he was the only one that wasn’t getting some strange. He had a lot of steam to blow off, and it made him a damn fine soldier.
On to this week’s reviews:
– Five Ears for awesome shit that makes me want to fight, fuck or kill! – Four Ears for well above average stuff that gives me a chubby – Three Ears for well-rounded but average... like a white girl's ass – Two Ears for subpar material that makes my crotch itch – One Ear for shit that makes me want to fight, fuck, or kill for the wrong reasons. – An added testicle for shit that is in between.
Thank God she’s back! Now I can stop wasting TiVo space on T-Mobile commercials. I’m pretty sure Entrapment is the fourth-worst movie ever made, and I still watch it on a regular basis. Catherine “Creamy Thighs” Zeta-Jones’ pants in the training scenes in that movie are on par with Sandra Buttocks skintight duds in Demolition Man and Denise “Dr. Xmas Jones” Richards’ poured-on uniform in Starship Troopers.
But none of us would have ever even seen that Sean Connery BM if it weren’t for her breakout roll in the 238th 1st Zorro movie. I never thought I’d want to have a driving rain hair cut and a bad accent, but Antonio Banderas gets all the hottest co-stars. He had Salma “Built for Sex” Hayek in Desperado, and Angeline “I bought my lips from the back of Black Tail magazine” Jolie in Original Sin, and Rebecca Romain-Tessio in Femme Fatale.
Shit, even when he does kid’s movies he gets to star across from Carla “Jugs” Guigino. I was starting to think that he had to be gay to get all these hot mamacitas to work with him until he made the ultimate guy move and married a hot, dumb, blonde like Melanie “My lips look like I’ve been sucking on a hot curling iron” Griffith. Well look out world! I’m gonna slick my hair back with some Valvoline and start talking like Sir Wencelas just to see where it gets me. The good news is that the aging Banderas is not the only one swashbuckling in this, the second installment of the modern Hollywood Zorro flicks. Mrs. Streets Of San Francisco does as much ass kicking in this 1800’s romp as her dialect impaired co-star. She can carve a ‘Z’ in my ass and whip me any day.
The last time Hollywood rushed out a sequel to an indie-horror phenomenon we were all treated to Blair Witch 2. Let that be a warning to you. Hollywood cannot make horror movies. They never really could. Every great horror movie came from a few guys trying to break in with some insanely twisted idea that you could never sell in a pitch meeting.
Save yourself 10 bucks and rent Halloween or the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre. (You can also follow my DVD recommendation below.) Shit, go watch the original Saw. It’s not great and the plot is holier than that Viet Cong Guerrilla’s head after Eddie Kong’s Pulitzer Prize winning photo, but is a shit ton better than the sequel. By the way, Chief Nguyen Ngoc Loan was a friend of mine, and he was a good guy. That Charlie was in civilian clothes and Loan was well with his rights under the Geneva Conventions to execute him on the spot. Fucking journalists cost us that goddamn war with photos like that.
No film has ever fucked with me quite as much as this one. Maybe it was Pink Floyd soundtrack, or maybe it was the blotter acid, or maybe it was that guy who hung himself in the background of that surreal, spooky forest. Anyway you cut it, this movie scares me more than all Wes Craven movies combined. Shit, it scares me more than Jeff Goldblum in Mr. Frost or Michael Keaton in Jack Frost. For all the talk of the Excorsist and the Twilight Zone, I think The Wizard of Oz was the first movie to really be cursed. Jed Clampett got all fucked up on silver paint, the midgets ran amuck in their hotel, and the dog was in drag! Just fucking creepy in my book.
It’s all there in this 15 hour, three-disc Ultimate Collector’s Edition that even gives you a glimpse of Oliver Hardy as the tin man, and a version of the ending that kills off that idiotic Scarecrow. So, if you really wanna fuck with your head, turn on the newly released DVD version of the flick. Start playing “Dark Side Of The Moon” at the third lion roar, and drop a couple tabs of window pane. Just don’t call me, and don’t expect your VA benefits to cover it when you lose your shit Jacob’s Ladder style. Trust me on that one. All they’ll do is put you back on the Prozac or Wellbutrin.
News flash: the 80’s sucked. They sucked then and they suck more now. We only fought pussy wars, and even the Black Ops shit I was on was bullshit in the last part of the decade. Television was horrible, movies sucked, and music was the worst it had been since knuckle-dragging hunchbacks with prominent brows started rhythmlessly beating on rocks. Why in the fuck would anyone want to bring it back? Don’t you idiots realize that the only reason you remember it being cool is because you fucking kids and you didn’t know any better? Children are dumb, that’s why we don’t let them live alone. Wise up you morons.
I will give Depeche Commode credit for the one thing they are doing right that the rest of these idiots who are desperate to return to the limelight seem to miss. They didn’t fuck with anything. They didn’t try to “modernize” their sound like Metallica foolishly did on “Saint Anger”. They didn’t try to evolve into some new creation like Radiohead did on their last few outings. They didn’t try to change their image like Madonna does every three years. Nope, they just straight up deliver a new batch of boring, basseo, morose, techno bleeps and bullshit like they had never stopped doing it in the first place. And it works. Just like it has worked for U2 and the Rolling Stones for decades. But it still sucks.
Some of the writers over at the Phat Phree worked on this toilet reader so they sent me a copy to review. I can only hope they did this for my honest opinion because they certainly don’t pay me enough to pull my punches on their behalf. I can certainly vouch for the fact that they didn’t put “Phree” in their title for nothing.
In fact getting this book even came attached with a note from editor Charlie DeMarco saying, “please read, review and return this copy of the hilarious (hint hint) “Save Toby”.
He should be getting the book back today along with a little surprise I like to call Anthrax, but that is beside the point. The premise of this book is that unless the authors sell 100,000 copies of this book, a cute fuzzy little bunny named Toby will be killed. I guess it is a modern day manual for extortion, which is certainly something I can get behind. In fact, its authors were wise enough to only use their first names to avoid repercussions.
The book itself is filled with lots of fun little things like pictures of the aforementioned fluffy ball of love, some recipes they may use if he gets it, hate mail from angry readers, the benefit album and concert and my favorite, prayers for the little fucker. As dry as some of this one-note-joke was, that made me laugh- as did the “Ode to Toby” and the “Origin Of Save Toby”.
But here’s the problem with this little premise of Bunny Extortion. Rabbits taste good- almost as good as tender veal cutlets, or Peking duck. By the time I got to the recipes in the book, I was hoping these fuckers wouldn’t sell enough books so they could actually try the Braised Toby with Egg Noodles Recipe that sounds so damned delicious! I honestly don’t give a fuck if an animal is someone’s furry little pet, I will eat the shit out of it if someone knows how to cook that motherfucker. Shit, I ate fucking dog when I was living in the Philippines in ‘76. I was out in back of this guys house playing with his fenced in dogs like they were the neighborhood pets and everyone was looking at me like I was nuts.
Two weeks later the guy was marrying off his daughter and the whole family showed up the night before. They told me it was gonna be a special meal. And boy was it. We ate like fucking kings. It wasn’t until after the wedding the next day when I realized there was only one dog left in the yard. But I’m here to tell you that was the best Woof Wellington I ever had. Who knew that fucker was raising Black Labs like were Jersey Cows, but then again who knew he was such a good damn chef either?
The book is pretty funny, but my advice is to read it on a full stomach so you don’t have to return it to Borders in hopes that it will keep their sales low enough to eat that tasty furry fucker.
A). Is it really necessary to punish everyone who hates fucking baseball by showing reruns of all the good shows during the World Series?
B.) I have a little job to do this weekend, and I am looking for suggestions: What would be the most painful way to die? Be creative. I have done it all so don’t come with “being burned alive” or I will burn you alive…inch by inch...with a Zippo.
Shove a garden hose down the throat and into the stomach. Simply turn on faucet and wait. POP! Splash. Dribble, dribble. Ouch.
doc
repeat question?...
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Posted: 10/28/2005 9:47:18 AM
A) is this the same question asked twice? for me, watching the sux win the series was the worst death, but i digress...
B) this is tough. sensory nerves are only in your skin, so anything that destroys the skin won't hurt as long (ie. burning, acid, skinned alive). plus, can we include more than one thing? like say, razor blade cuts on the cock shaft with lemon juice while you're going foot-first through a meat grinder while your wife gets ass-raped (and likes it) and cobras bite your face. or is it a one-method death?
i'll go with this: having someone hammer all the bones in your body until your just a bag of broken bones. extremities first, head and chest last--to keep you alive longer.
Andy
Simple
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Posted: 10/28/2005 10:00:48 AM
I mean, these torturous methods are all well and horrible (particularly the ass-raped wife...damn) but isn't Ebola REALLY REALLY bad? So, first choice - lock a person in a walk in meat locker with a corpse infected with Ebola. With a video camera wired to a monitor in the locker so they could watch themselves decay and fall apart.
Mike S
Jake G
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Posted: 10/28/2005 10:21:16 AM
Bareback mountain appears to be one of the most unintentially hilarious movies ever made.
It's got all the perfect stereotypes. I can't wait to see the fights between him and his wife, "You don't understand how I feel!!"
Dave C
1984
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Posted: 10/28/2005 10:36:22 AM
I'm gonna have to go with having your face gnawed off by oversized rats. That did the trick in 1984 and it always creeped me out.
JP
Worst way to die...
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Posted: 10/28/2005 10:44:54 AM
I like Dane Cook's description of drowning in a swimming pool covered with flaming gasoline so that when you come up for air, you burn, and in the one spot where there is no flaming gasoline, when you surface a guy punches you in the face. Hilariously, this happened to some Japanese sailors when we sunk a Japanese oil tanker in the Pacific during World War II...except for the punching in the face, of course.
JOHNNY B
PIGS
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Posted: 10/28/2005 10:49:10 AM
How about being eaten alive by pigs (ala Hannibal)?
matt
1st thing 1st
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Posted: 10/28/2005 11:33:19 AM
They made a book of that toby crap! Un-fucking-beliveable. Good that gives me hope that my piece of shit novel just may hit the shelfs. You take the one joke that has been on the internet for what a couple years and make abook about,. hear they are coming out with a triliogy of the Star Wars kind too.
Having your limbs severed and thrown into a pit of rats. while being shown on a big screen of your girl/wife/male lover/dog being buttfucked by Alana Alda.
JAMAL
MOMMY IT BURNS
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Posted: 10/28/2005 11:36:47 AM
Death by chinese water torture, only instead of water, its a very strong acid that eats thru your scalp slowly so you can eventually feel your brain discinegrating. Sounds like that would pretty much suck.
Broadway joe
Drowning
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Posted: 10/28/2005 1:37:37 PM
Is actually one of the most painful ways to die. Either that or choking on your own testicles.
Use the form at the right to log in for more options.
– Five Ears for awesome shit that makes me want to fight, fuck or kill! 
– Four Ears for well above average stuff that gives me a chubby
– Three Ears for well-rounded but average... like a white girl's ass
– Two Ears for subpar material that makes my crotch itch
– One Ear for shit that makes me want to fight, fuck, or kill for the wrong reasons.
– An added testicle for shit that is in between.
Thank God she’s back! Now I can stop wasting TiVo space on T-Mobile commercials. I’m pretty sure Entrapment is the fourth-worst movie ever made, and I still watch it on a regular basis. Catherine “Creamy Thighs” Zeta-Jones’ pants in the training scenes in that movie are on par with Sandra Buttocks skintight duds in Demolition Man and Denise “Dr. Xmas Jones” Richards’ poured-on uniform in Starship Troopers. 
The last time Hollywood rushed out a sequel to an indie-horror phenomenon we were all treated to Blair Witch 2. Let that be a warning to you. Hollywood cannot make horror movies. They never really could. Every great horror movie came from a few guys trying to break in with some insanely twisted idea that you could never sell in a pitch meeting.
No film has ever fucked with me quite as much as this one. Maybe it was Pink Floyd soundtrack, or maybe it was the blotter acid, or maybe it was that guy who hung himself in the background of that surreal, spooky forest. Anyway you cut it, this movie scares me more than all Wes Craven movies combined. Shit, it scares me more than Jeff Goldblum in Mr. Frost or Michael Keaton in Jack Frost. For all the talk of the Excorsist and the Twilight Zone, I think The Wizard of Oz was the first movie to really be cursed. Jed Clampett got all fucked up on silver paint, the midgets ran amuck in their hotel, and the dog was in drag! Just fucking creepy in my book. 
News flash: the 80’s sucked. They sucked then and they suck more now. We only fought pussy wars, and even the Black Ops shit I was on was bullshit in the last part of the decade. Television was horrible, movies sucked, and music was the worst it had been since knuckle-dragging hunchbacks with prominent brows started rhythmlessly beating on rocks. Why in the fuck would anyone want to bring it back? Don’t you idiots realize that the only reason you remember it being cool is because you fucking kids and you didn’t know any better? Children are dumb, that’s why we don’t let them live alone. Wise up you morons.
Some of the writers over at the Phat Phree worked on this toilet reader so they sent me a copy to review. I can only hope they did this for my honest opinion because they certainly don’t pay me enough to pull my punches on their behalf. I can certainly vouch for the fact that they didn’t put “Phree” in their title for nothing. 
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