Every other Friday, resident Marine & entertainment reviewer, Joaquim Harold “Napalm” Jones, Gy. Sgt. USMC (Ret.) , takes a look at the shit flung on screens and out of stereos.
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Before Katie Holmes ever snuck in Dawson's window, before Skeet Ulrich settled for PG-13, there was another window creeper that I never quite understood. Vinnie Delpino. Why, oh why would he keep sneaking in Doogie's window? Was the front door welded shut like the doors on the General Lee? Had he seen Animal House too many times? Or was he just trying to get a look at Doogie?s infamous diary of do-gooder notions and heart warming revelations. Nope, it turns out, he was looking for some good old late night sticky 2-hole, ass sex, or as I like to call it Doogie style. I guess the statement that they always come in three?s has never been truer. First Lance Bass shocked one person in Poughkeepsie by coming out. Then Isaiah "Not Denzel" Washington caused a "Grey's Anatomy" scuffle by calling a castmate a faggot after co-star TR Knight had just come out. And now, shock of all shocks, the purple dinosaur is not the only gay Barney who loves you. Neil Patrick Harris has confessed to having a Swayze autographed copy of Too Wong Foo wedged right between his copy of Yentl and season 3 of "Sex and the City". I too am a Swayze fan, but only because most men have no idea how to rip out a man's Adam's apple not because I want to give his Adam?s apple a white caramel glaze. But to each his own. Neil Patrick gets my respect because somehow he is the only guy on that How I Milked Your Mother show that isn't a complete pussy. If Ted and Marshall could take his lead and only start whining through their collective labia once their hand has already been forced maybe then they would be half the man Lance Bass is.
? 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.
What do you get when you cross Ben Stiller?s pursed lips from Zoolander and Jamie Gold?s ridiculous Bodog staked World Series of Poker win? Surprisingly the answer is a fucking James Bond movie. Daniel Craig graduates from his Layer Cake past and hopes not to be the next George Lazenby who co-starred alongside Kojack in one of the best Bond films, On Her Majesty?s Secret Service, but never got his just due on a sequel. But Lazenby did have a great run in the early soft core days with an unprecedented 8 consecutive appearances in poorly dubbed Emmanuelle movies. Remington Steele, The Saint, and Indiana Jones?s dad could only hope for so much, though I wouldn?t be shocked to see Timothy Dalton pop up in a revamped "Red Shoe Diaries" playing Mulder?s dad. Obviously Connery is the dopest of all the Bonds, but that kind of magic only happens once in a lifetime. Moore relied on a level of smarm that would make John Henson blush and thusly sucked, Brosnan had all the modern gadgets a double 0 could handle but never got a script and Timothy Dalton proved to be a bust in spite of doing more of his own stunts than he did in Flash Gordon, but this Bond doesn?t need stunts, gadgets, or witty repartee to get over on the tear bleeding bad guys.
I had thought sneaking into a royal screening of Bond would be fun, but the food was shit. Is popcorn really supposed to taste like cod? Apparently the British are as qualified to be in a kitchen as I am to baby-sit your kids. Not to mention that seeing the Queen of England trying to the flick some juice back into her dusty bean when James Blond steals the Halle Berry and Ursula Andres thunder by slowly walking up the beach half naked was more disgusting than accusations that the genius behind the band Wings could really tie dental floss around the house and then hide Heather?s leg when she had to pee in the middle of the night, or whatever it takes to be accused of beating your one-legged wife. But I guess I'd be pretty pissed too if I found out my old lady was the British Vanessa Del Rio. Speaking of which, is there ever going to be another good Bond song? ?Live and Let Die? is so good that Axl Rose couldn?t even fuck it up. Radiohead proclaimed ?Nobody Does It Better? as the sexiest song ever written. And ?View To Kill? is almost as good fucking music as anything on Ohio Players Honey. But I guess I should just be happy that the new and improved Bond just makes sense. He doesn?t give a fuck if his martini is shaken or stirred. He barely looks at his cards playing poker knowing that the game is more about playing your opponent than your cards. And we finally find out why he is such a chauvinist pig; some bitch broke his heart and he has been enacting his revenge on the more scantily clad sex ever since with a string of violent murders and late night choke fuckings of women with fucked up names like Pussy Galore, Honey Rider and Holly Goodhead. Though the one thing stupider than any Bond Girl name is the notion that anyone would cast Denise ?Charlie Sheen Fuck Toy? Richards as Dr. Christmas Jones, a nuclear physicist. This time around Bond gets to put his olives in Eva Green?s well shaken martini. But don?t hold your breath for the good bits, if you want that you?ll have to watch her full frontal taintbagging Venus De Milo scene in The Dreamers.
This may come as a shock, but as much as I love to see men fighting on a mile high crane or a man MacGuyvering his way out of predicaments with gadgets that would put Jenna Haze?s vibrator to shame, nothing beats the intensity of Bond throwing an empty pistol like a Randy Johnson-esque heater to a baddie?s dome. It?s the intensity that actually works here. The brutal, up close, fist fights are more Marked For Death than Octopussy and this Bond finally exposes that there is a certain type of disconnect in a man who kills for a living regardless of what side he is on. Going back to the start worked for Batman and making Bond less of a cartoon in the telling of his start as a 00 works here too. If you were hoping for a wise cracking drunk with a jet pack this is not your James Bond, but if you are looking for an action movie that is equal parts American Psycho and The Killer then look no further. Blond hair, blue eyes, and Will Smith ears can?t keep a good Bond down.
What?s wrong with the fictionalized dramatization of poignant literature? Well in this case the answer is Avril Lavigne, Kris Kristofferson, Ethan Hawke and Wilmer Valderama who have about as much business acting as Larry Flint does running the LA Marathon. But good lefty source material always seems to bring out the best and worst in Hollywood. At least this time the point is literally seeing them eat shit. Greg Kinnear leads the all-kinda-star charge as a put upon fast food exec working for McDonald?s (except not called McDonald?s for obvious legal reasons), whose story becomes intertwined with the Waiting like fast food kitchens and the illegal migrant meat murders of the world. But if this movie stops you from eating a Big Mac you are a fucking asshole. What should stop you from eating that shit is the fact that Wendy?s clearly makes a better burger though I will never hate on the ?special sauce?. Or maybe what should stop you is the fact that a Big Mac has 704 calories and you are already a fat ass like 80% of this lazy country. For me being told that the burgers have actual feces in them is hardly discouraging. When you?ve had the cutest 10 year old girl in Vietnam crush up 3 lbs of glass and put it in a whole platoons worth of mash potatoes, then we can talk about being scared to eat. Besides that wasn?t nearly as frightening as local prostitutes who would put razors in their twizzers. There?s no winning a war where paying for sex won?t just get you a case of the burns, but might also leave your dick looking like a can of sliced mushroom buttons. But let?s leave the war behind us like an inner city fourth grader.
As much as I love Rally?s and In & Out let?s be real. No restaurant can touch me with 5 lbs of ground beef 10 cloves of garlic and some of that W-sauce (I can?t pronounce it so I shortened the name) as a marinade. But even if a burger had a steamy turd mashed up in it let?s examine some facts. First of all, they do cook the motherfuckers. Nothing is more sterilizing than fire. Eating a raw chicken will kill you faster than any form of excrement. The salad bar at hometown buffet has more urine in it than a Quantico latrine, and you eat that completely raw. Second, that ?special sauce? might be made by a retard but it can make anything taste good. ?I?ll eat a pig?s ass if you cook it right.? And most importantly, fuck you lefty commie bastards! This is a capitalist country. If someone can find a way to get people to buy crap, pay for it and fucking like it, then more power to them. Sure I was turned off by MickyD?s for a minute after I read the book, but after working my way back with one of those not quite a source of nutrition Filet O Fish sandwiches, I was knee deep in a Big Mac?s ass within two weeks. I have friends who became vegans after they read the book and to them I say hemp belts are not cool. It is not human nature to harvest a soybean and turn it into Tofurky for thanksgiving. I would let Mayor McCheese use Grimace as an anal plug on me if I could figure out how to chase down a cow, wrestle it to the ground, slit it?s throat, drain the blood, rub it around in it?s own shit and still have it taste as good as a Big Mac. The movie is certainly entertaining and worth watching, but I?ll still wear a striped shirt regardless of what Mike Polk says, and I'll still eat a burger even if the guy who made Dazed and Confused and School of Rock tells me not to.
Lefty ensembles abound this week. And though no one actually plays Robert Kennedy in this movie, his life is still celebrated above and beyond reason. Sure he was one of the great leaders of 60?s that was unfairly gunned down like many of his contemporaries, but did he really stand for anything? His brother?s initiatives helped get us to the moon first. Bobby waited for sloppy seconds on Marilyn. Martin Luther King help start the civil rights movement while Bobby was chasing communists (read: persecuting Jews) as one of Joe McCarthy?s aids and later bugged King like he was a criminal. Even Malcolm X stopped believing all white people were devils, but Bobby never gave up his foolish quest to bring down Jimmy Hoffa just because he had some unorthodox ideas about how to invest the teamster?s pension fund. Nope, Bobby was a bit of a cock. So when one of the black characters in the movie states that RFK is all they have left, you realized just how hopeless America was at the end of a decade that had killed the very idea of hope. Thank god cocaine, discos and John Ritter helped pull us out of that slump faster than deciphering R O F A into A F R O on the Soul Train word scramble board.
But politics aside this movie does exactly what it set out to do, give Emilio Estevez a reason to drink with his buddies. It also gives Emilio a chance to show the world why filmmakers should go to film school instead of relying on their fame and famous families to get their buddies to show up for nothing. The movie attempts to capture a moment in time that looms with fear and dread for the American people, but mostly amounts to an excuse for William H Macy, Larry Fishburne, and Sharon Stone to play dress up. Lindsey Lohan and Elijah Wood manage to seem as out of place here as Marlee Matlin teaching a hooked on phonics class. In fact Demi Moore is by far the most compelling thing in the whole film, which is not so much an insult to everyone else in the film as it is a compliment to her. She has transcended her sexually charged past in movies like Indecent Proposal, Disclosure, and Striptease and finally come into her own as the quality actress I remember from St. Elmo?s Fire and About Last Night, though her midnight full nude refrigerator raid back when she had her original boobs may have biased me in favor of that last one. She will, however, need to turn in a couple hundred performances as good as this lushy cabaret singer to erase that Charlie?s Angels sequel. But at least she?s off to a good start. Too bad this movie is no more worth seeing than looking in the toilet after dropping a cheek splitting lump of coal. Sure you might want to know what kind of crap you put all that effort into bringing into the world, but in the end it?s just another piece shit. And in this case it?s not even yours. So if you?re the kind of weirdo who really wants to stare at Emilio?s o-ring logs, have fun watching Bobby. If not you can come join me of at the local Regal Cinema to watch Casino Royale another 5 times.
No SCG next week. Tryptofan will have me down for the count. And Charlie gave everyone Thanksgiving off since he really doesn't give us shit else. Sorry no TV this week. I really was going to try to figure out what happened to "Lost" but then I realized it would be easier to get HHH to job for Carlito than it would be to understand why ABC kills all it's great shows.
The Phat Phree also sends a fond farewell to George Michael. Not the one who somehow tricked us all into thinking he was straight by telling us to "Make It Big", but the one who inspired viewing sports via recap clips with his "Sports Machine". Thanks for paving the way for Stuart Scott, Chris Berman, Rece Davis, Rich Eisen and ten other hacky clones and then quitting the game altogether. Please take those lousy fucks with you!
1. If you could assassinate one important person who would it be and why. Personally I?d like to get my M25 White Feather Hathcock set on Larry King. Not because of anything in particular that he has done, though that interview with Natalee Holloway?s mom was like a visual Ambien, but because he honestlycut me off for a parking space once. Road rage is like blue balls; even after the initial slight has long subsided you still won?t feel better until get an actual release.
3. Who was you favorite Bond Girl? Personally I think I want to ball Judi Dench. Not because she is one of the Bond GILFs, but because I could use a lady with some class in my life right now.
"How I met that skanky ho that now takes half my salary in alimony to spend on meth and knitting circles" a.k.a "How I met your mother" is actually quite good. Doogy really does make for a good greaseball.
1) Oprah. I. FUCKING. HATE. HER. 2) Yo diddy, wanna try land dis baby! 3) That black woman that was married to Dolf Lundgren. Grace somebody. Black is beautiful. Once you had black, you aint never going back baby!
deuce
the dreamers
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Posted: 11/17/2006 8:13:50 AM
or you could just be a dirtbag, like me, and google her. which i guess in honor of that, i'll answer your Q&A in reverse...
3. Eva Green. her eyes + plus perfection in the sweater puppy category gets my vote (and my baby batter, frequently.)
2. here's hoping that this wont inspire another jack-ass diet pepsi ad with carson daly flying a chopper. sitting in the cockpit of "the calvary" is reserved for badass alcoholics like jan-micheal vincent.
1. i've got a ruger .270 bolt action with myspace tom's name all over it.
Drawz
Johan...
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Posted: 11/17/2006 8:46:53 AM
3). The chick's name from View to a Kill was Grace Jones. She was definitely one tough bitch. I haven't seen the flick and Chris Walken's complete overacting in a while, but doesn't she get blown up in a mine shaft or something? Personally, I liked those two broads, Bambi and Thumper, that Bond fought in Diamonds are Forever. Any Bond movie is good except for that piece of shit Moonraker.
Jake Ford
Hoo Rah
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Posted: 11/17/2006 9:58:11 AM
Is it me or are these actually the best reviews on the net? Almost makes me want to nominate Owen Gleiberman for number one but...
1. I would like to go hunting with DIck Cheney and see who comes out on top.
2. Are we gonna get to the Carrot Top show on time in this piece?
3. Jesus, is anyone gonna say Tanya Roberts? Sheena, Inner Sanctum, Night Eyes and The Beastmaster are all top quality soft core if you have a slow mo button. And Roger Moore was barely in her league in "A view To A Kill".
Blackout
Damn!!! she's fine
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Posted: 11/17/2006 10:59:23 AM
1. I'd definately bust a cap in Trent Lott's ass, I can't believe that sleezebag got back on the gravy train. Let's hope he learned the word of the year, "macaca" and take himself out again.
2. Ahh so thats what Wesley Snipes did with all that money.
3. I'm torn between 2 non-bond women: Samantha Bond (Moneypenny since '95) and Rosamund Pike (Miranda Frost- the fencing chick from Die Another Day) just because i've commited mass spermacide to thoughts of a threesome with them.
Al Zimers
FNA
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Posted: 11/17/2006 11:03:41 AM
1) I'd rather just beat the shit out of a few people. 2) I refuse to caption this no-load, pencil dicked, self flagellating dillhole who probably sniffs his mom's underwear. 3) Ursula Andress and her diving knife.
Christine
.....
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Posted: 11/17/2006 12:01:06 PM
1. Christopher Reed's son
2. Special Agent Johnson and his Partner, Agent Johnson are seen making their attempt to take down possible terrorist, John McClane.
3. Never saw any of them.
dc
Christopher Reed?
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Posted: 11/17/2006 12:35:40 PM
Who the Fuck is that?
1. Bill O' 2. Do you like gladiator movies? 3. Famke Janssen
Milton
Ramble on...
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Posted: 11/17/2006 12:50:08 PM
1- A certain goofy bastard from Connecticut that acts like he's from Texas and could barely beat Dan Quayle in a spelling bee. And Rosie O'donnell.
2- "Is Wayne Brady smackin' that bitch?" " I think he is"
3- Ursula Andress and Britt Ekland
Christine
Whatever DC
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Posted: 11/17/2006 1:17:30 PM
You knew what i meant. I hope you get mugged tonight.
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.
What do you get when you cross Ben Stiller?s pursed lips from Zoolander and Jamie Gold?s ridiculous Bodog staked World Series of Poker win? Surprisingly the answer is a fucking James Bond movie. Daniel Craig graduates from his Layer Cake past and hopes not to be the next George Lazenby who co-starred alongside Kojack in one of the best Bond films, On Her Majesty?s Secret Service, but never got his just due on a sequel. But Lazenby did have a great run in the early soft core days with an unprecedented 8 consecutive appearances in poorly dubbed Emmanuelle movies. Remington Steele, The Saint, and Indiana Jones?s dad could only hope for so much, though I wouldn?t be shocked to see Timothy Dalton pop up in a revamped "Red Shoe Diaries" playing Mulder?s dad. Obviously Connery is the dopest of all the Bonds, but that kind of magic only happens once in a lifetime. Moore relied on a level of smarm that would make John Henson blush and thusly sucked, Brosnan had all the modern gadgets a double 0 could handle but never got a script and Timothy Dalton proved to be a bust in spite of doing more of his own stunts than he did in Flash Gordon, but this Bond doesn?t need stunts, gadgets, or witty repartee to get over on the tear bleeding bad guys. 
What?s wrong with the fictionalized dramatization of poignant literature? Well in this case the answer is Avril Lavigne, Kris Kristofferson, Ethan Hawke and Wilmer Valderama who have about as much business acting as Larry Flint does running the LA Marathon. But good lefty source material always seems to bring out the best and worst in Hollywood. At least this time the point is literally seeing them eat shit. Greg Kinnear leads the all-kinda-star charge as a put upon fast food exec working for McDonald?s (except not called McDonald?s for obvious legal reasons), whose story becomes intertwined with the Waiting like fast food kitchens and the illegal migrant meat murders of the world. But if this movie stops you from eating a Big Mac you are a fucking asshole. What should stop you from eating that shit is the fact that Wendy?s clearly makes a better burger though I will never hate on the ?special sauce?. Or maybe what should stop you is the fact that a Big Mac has 704 calories and you are already a fat ass like 80% of this lazy country. For me being told that the burgers have actual feces in them is hardly discouraging. When you?ve had the cutest 10 year old girl in Vietnam crush up 3 lbs of glass and put it in a whole platoons worth of mash potatoes, then we can talk about being scared to eat. Besides that wasn?t nearly as frightening as local prostitutes who would put razors in their twizzers. There?s no winning a war where paying for sex won?t just get you a case of the burns, but might also leave your dick looking like a can of sliced mushroom buttons. But let?s leave the war behind us like an inner city fourth grader. 
Lefty ensembles abound this week. And though no one actually plays Robert Kennedy in this movie, his life is still celebrated above and beyond reason. Sure he was one of the great leaders of 60?s that was unfairly gunned down like many of his contemporaries, but did he really stand for anything? His brother?s initiatives helped get us to the moon first. Bobby waited for sloppy seconds on Marilyn. Martin Luther King help start the civil rights movement while Bobby was chasing communists (read: persecuting Jews) as one of Joe McCarthy?s aids and later bugged King like he was a criminal. Even Malcolm X stopped believing all white people were devils, but Bobby never gave up his foolish quest to bring down Jimmy Hoffa just because he had some unorthodox ideas about how to invest the teamster?s pension fund. Nope, Bobby was a bit of a cock. So when one of the black characters in the movie states that RFK is all they have left, you realized just how hopeless America was at the end of a decade that had killed the very idea of hope. Thank god cocaine, discos and John Ritter helped pull us out of that slump faster than deciphering R O F A into A F R O on the Soul Train word scramble board.
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