Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Reviews of the Ignorant: Princess Mononoke

Do you know what I hate? No, well, yeah, I hate Nazis, but that wasn't what I was thinking of. Do you know what else I hate? Yeah, ok, the designated hitter. But do you know what else? Yeah, Fat-free Pringles, but that- well, yeah, pre-fab pop groups, ok, but that still wasn't what I was thinking of. Ok, yeah, Court TV. That's- yeah, well, that's true, too, scrambled eggs for dinner. Again, though, that wasn't what I was thinking of. What? Yeah, car insurance, but- ok, already, enough! Yeah, I hate pinatas, but that wasn't what I was thinking of, either.

Seriously, do you know what I hate? Well- what? Yeah, poaching on game reserves, stores with bad return policies, and hypocrisy, yes, yes, and yes, I hate all those things. But I was trying- tuna salad, I'll give you that, that's something else I hate. But I was trying to prove a point, to introduce this ignorant review. So, with that in mind, do you know what I hate? Ok, this is ridiculous. Yes, I hate SUVs. Yes, I hate squirrels. Yes, I hate "Home Improvement". But I'm really- ALRIGHT ALREADY!!! Yes, I hate wasps. Yes, I hate having a hole right in the big toe of my sock. Yes, I hate people who drive in the passing lane. Yes, I hate ink jet printer cartridges. Anyone else? Anyone? Really now, anyone else want to contribute something I hate? You're done, now, then, right? You're all done? Ok, then, let's get on with it. Time to be serious.

Do you know what I hate? Mucousy discharge? Oh, for Pete's sake, let's just get on with the review already.

Princess Mononoke

Ok, now that you've had your fun and you've all driven the blogger crazy with your "What about tornadoes?" and "What about those wind-up monkeys that clap the cymbals?", it's time to move on to today's ignorant review. Do you know what I hate? Anime! I hate it! I mean, first of all, it doesn't make a lick of sense. There's always some teenage girl who meets up with monsters and demons and spirits and little creatures and what not while she's trying to finish some quest for something that not even the people making the film seem to know what it is. And none of it matters, anyhow, because as soon as you start to think there might be something as inconsequential as, oh, I don't know, PLOT, then some dancing bear or giant baby comes in and parades around and hijacks the entire story, at least until a train being driven by a talking frog crashes through the whole thing and releases a flock of doves from the mouth of a sleeping prince who falls in love with the teenage girl. And then they walk off to a castle on a green hill, leaving the viewer with the lingering, important question of "What the hell did I just watch?"

Now, apparently, some people (and you know who you are)(and you are a bunch of greasy weirdos who sit on the Internets all day arguing whether the teenage girl from whatever is the latest anime disaster is is hotter than the teenage girl from last year's anime disaster, and then you write horrible, pornographic fan fiction where said cartoon teenage girl comes to your mom's basement where you are hiding out all day and does things to you that even Bill Clinton wouldn't dream of doing OUTSIDE of the Oval Office) find anime enjoyable. Of course, some people also find getting hit by a board enjoyable. Some people might even find reading this blog posting enjoyable. Ok, that might be going too far. But some people find anime enjoyable. At least enough people enjoy it that they keep making the crap. Well, anime geeks (and, yes, I'm talking to all of you who know the thirty-two different types of anime by heart, and could have an intense discussion on whether sentai (or, as they say in France, le sentai) is better than hentai (or, as the French would say, l'hentai)) let me give to you, free of charge (donations accepted, though) a little PSA for Y-O-U: writing pornographic anime fan fiction in your mom's basement while eating Cheetos will not EVER attract a real live girl. Never. You are dooming yourself to your mom's basement for eternity. Get out. Get some sunshine. See that real girls do not all wear plaid skirts that flash their underwear every time they turn. Come on, do you really want to find yourself at sixty-eight typing fantasies about you making love to teenage cartoon characters with one hand while your mom screams down from upstairs that she's pooped herself again? Listen and listen well, if you want to save your lives: Anime sucks.

And not only does it suck because it has nonsensical plots built around the sketchiest of characters, but it sucks even harder just based on the hideous design of the animation. I mean, these things are UGLY with a capital UG. What if, in the real world, everyone you encountered had eyes the size of manhole covers with pupils the size of basketballs, noses like fish, and crooked slits of mouths with no lips that flash into "o's" and back to slits whenever they talk? And, what if everyone's heads had swollen to encephalitic portions and their hair stuck out in random clumps and spikes and could just as easily be purple or green as brown or black? And all the girls wore Catholic school-girl uniforms that were never long enough to cover their underwear and all the boys wore shiny track suits left over from an ABBA concert? It would be like living in the world of Strawberry Shortcake, only without the sexiness of Lemon Meringue. I mean, not that I find Lemon Meringue sexy. Or, I mean, not that I even know who she is. Or anything about Strawberry Shortcake. Not like those Internets nerds. Yeah, they think Strawberry Shortcake is sexy! Yeah, they photoshop naked pictures of her! Stupid Internets Nerds! Perverts! But not me, that's them.

(Of course, it would be argued that, in any discussion of anime, I'd be a stupid idiot if I didn't take a moment to mention all the -mons, such as "Pokemon" and "Digimon" and "Dragonballmon" and "Pubismons" and all their sword fighting ilk. To that, I can only say, "Duh! I is a brain!" 'cause I am not going to dedicate one extra pixel or flex of my fingers from the home keys to these retarded bastard animated children of the WWE. You might gotta collect them all. Me, I gotta blog to write)

Anyhow, once you get past the fact that every inhabitant of Animeland looks like they have a syndrome, and the fact that there will not be any plot or story development or conflict or even sense, and the fact that a two story mouse wearing a diaper could appear at any time and the movement of the lips does not match the words AT ANY TIME EVEN WHEN SPEAKING JAPANESE, anime is pretty enjoyable. Wait. No, it's not. It's pretty horrible. To demonstrate this, I have chosen a film I have never seen, "Princess Mononoke", to provide an ignorant review.

Ok, what's the plot of this film? Well, I think it is safe to assume it is about a princess. And this princess, dressed in a plaid skirt and suit jacket and showing her underwear whenever she moves, must free her kingdom from an evil spell in the form of a black cloud with a dog's head that blocks out the sun. So, she sets out to find the witch, an old woman with amazing wrinkles and an enormous rear end, that can remove the spell. To get there, she must take a flying bus driven by a monkey in a hat. But, the bus crashes into the side of a mountain filled with waterfalls where the princess meets a prince in a tracksuit, carrying a sword, who introduces her to a talking spider. The spider takes the prince and the princess to the steam powered center of the mountain, where gears clang and steam hisses, and the spider insists they must work there forever. But a fish swims into the mountain and transforms into a horse that the prince and princess ride out through a tiny doorway. Then, a giant, lizard-like creature shows up wearing a diaper and parades around while some kids fight at it's feet. Then the witch releases a comet storm. Then a ten-foot tall spirit that doesn't talk but moves all hurky-jerky takes everyone into a forest of mushrooms. Then a subway crashes through the mountain, and the witch falls to the sea, where she transforms into a turtle and is washed out to an island, where she shakes her reptilian fist and curses the mainland. Then the people celebrate and the prince transforms to a flock of ravens and the princess transforms to a sea serpent and the prince transforms to a wolf and the princess transforms back to a human and shows off her underwear. And none of the lips match the words at anytime. And actors you have heard of but couldn't recognize their voices even if they were wearing name tags, such as Kirsten Dunst and Alec Baldwin, dub the English versions with all the passion that can be mustered for a five-day paycheck.

Ok, so that may not be the 100% ACTUAL plot, but why argue over a few little things like facts that don't matter anyhow. That's close enough to catch the idea of the thing. Besides, facts are tiresome things that require "research" and "care", and, for our long-time reader, you know that we here at the Frog Blog never get so hung up on facts that it prevents us from posting. Besides, what really matters is that this snoozefest is directed by Hayao Miyazaki, who is known as the "Japanese Walt Disney". This label, though, assumes two very offensive things. First is the racist implication that the real Walt Disney was not, somehow, "Japanese" enough. Second, there is the assumption that Walt Disney would ever make a movie while sitting in a steam room high on peyote. Well, other than "Saludos Amigos" and "The Three Caballeros", I seriously doubt that "Uncle" Walt would do that to us. He might lecture us about American History, but he'd NEVER make a movie in a steam room while high on peyote, which is pretty much how I think "Princess Mononoke" was made, along with every other piece of anime.

So, to sum up, what is the difference of the product quotient when we check the remainder of our review? Oh, yeah, "Princess Mononoke" sucks. And how is this anime-inspired suckiness calculated? Big-eyed, swollen head character design? Check. Lips don't match the words? Check. Vaguely familiar actors that we honestly don't care about doing the English dub? Check. Talking animals and witches and spirits? Check. Nonsense? Check. Plot? Uh, noncheck. Put it all together and what do we have? Something only a fanboy, hands stained orange with Cheetos residue, musty smell of basement seeping into his pasty pores, could love. As for the rest of us, I'm gonna make like a giant diaper-wearing hippopotamus and get the hell out of here.

My Rating: 0 Stars, all of which fall down to the Earth while the Princess watches from a cliff at the edge of the sea just before transforming into a hawk, and showing her underwear in the process

Trivia: "The Three Caballeros", the only movie ever made by Walt Disney while high in a steam room, is also the only movie to ever use the tagline "Thrilling Beyond Words! Amazing Beyond Belief". Coincidentally, with the addition of a few more lines, "Acting Beyond Decency!" and "Fluids Beyond Viscosity!" and "Humans Beyond Depravity!", and you then have an exact transcript of the police report from the hotel where my wife and I spent our wedding night.

Bonus: "But wait!" you all say (and, if you didn't, I'd appreciate it if you could say it now so that we can move on). "How can you leave the topic of anime without a picture of the way Jennifer Connelly would look if she was an anime character?" Fear not, me buckos! Uncle Matteo wouldn't let you down! His wife and family, maybe, but not you! So here, due to unpopular demand, is an actual created picture of what Jennifer Connelly would look like if she were an anime character. (Her underwear flashing out from under her dress, unfortunately, I will have to leave up to the fanboys to write in their fiction).
P.S. I just looked it up on your precious Internets, and, for your information, "Strawberry Shortcake" WAS for girls OR boys, so there is nothing wrong with a BOY who wants to play with them. It's not even wrong for a boy to know that middle name of the Peculair Purple Pieman (which might be "Percival") or that Huckleberry Pie's dog's name is "Pupcake". So there. I'm gonna go brush their hair now, and there is nothing wrong with that. Go back to your anime porn, freaks. Leave me and Blueberry Muffin alone.

Thursday, July 19, 2007

On the Photographic Art: Obscene Makeover Edition

Ok, so I check George Bush's polls numbers today, and I see that they are instantly .0016% better, and I understand immediately that this is because of the photo I posted yesterday, showing President Bush with a Jennifer Connelly make-over. And, true enough, the power of Jennifer Connelly has made people feel so kindly towards President Bush (and, frighteningly, to also feel sexually attracted to him. Well, not me, of course. But people.) And it suddenly became apparent that the Power of Jenny could be used to make some of the most despised villains in the history of the Earth just a little larger-breasted, and possibly also sexually attractive. To people, of course. But not me.

With that said, I will now Jennisize some of the most horrible creatures to walk the planet.

First up is Ken Lay. Rrrrrawwwl! You can handle my 401K anytime, baby!

Here, we have Idi Amin. Hear me when I say, what's wrong with Ganda? It's missing 'U', honey

And here is one of the most despicable, disgusting beasts to foul the planet. Yet, with a little bit of Jennifer Connelly, and, suddenly, can't you just say, "Hey, Hitler, cut out all that ranting and spitting and let's cuddle!"

If you thought THAT was ugly, check out the chupacabra, the South American "goat-sucker". This, of course, is a scientifically accurate depection of a chupacabra melded with the body of Jennifer Connelly; a chupaconnelly, if you may. Nobody loves a chupacabra (except maybe his mother) with it's razor sharp teeth, horrible odor, and tendancy to gut livestock. Yet, give it the Jenny treatment, and voila! Fit for a Disney cartoon! And S-E-X-Y to boot. Hey, there, goat-sucker, I got something you can suck RIGHT HERE!

Not an ounce of fat-wa here! If Osama bin Laden was a little bit more Jennifer Connelly and a little bit less 'dusty desert nomad', I expect we all could just get along. Hey, Osama! You have a little bit of American in you? Well, doll-face, you want some? Hubba hubba!

And speaking of the Great Satan, here he is himself. Yet, do you think God would have been so quick to cast him out with more Connelly and less brimstone and eternal damnation? Lighten up, Satan, put on a white tank top, and suddenly it's not hot, just 'tropical', and people are being tortured until the end of time, they are 'working on personal growth plans'. From Prince of Darkness to Princess of Power, here is the perfect example of how something as vile as the Snake can be turned into something so cute and cuddly, Hallmark could sell plush of him.

And there you have it. It is incredible what letting a little bit of Jennifer Connelly become part of you will do, even if you are an inhumane monster. It can even make the foulest of men into an object of unbridled lust. For other people, of course. Not for me, though. For other people.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

On the Photographic Art: Jennifer Connelly

If there is one thing we love here at the Frog Blog, it is the astoundingly beautiful, amazingly intelligent, incredibly talented Jennifer Connelly. Yet there are some out there that just are not as aware as they should be of her glory. As a tribute to this Earth-bound goddess, I have decided to take a brief break from my ignorant reviews to post a few ignorant pictures. Yet too many websites out there on the Internets exist for no reason other than to exploit the radiance of Ms. Connelly with grainy video captures of her naked, or they steal publicity photos and distribute them, at least until the paparazzi threatens suit. Here at the Frog Blog, while we encourage perverts to lurk our hallowed virtual halls, we do not want this lurking at the expense of the dignity of Ms. Connelly. In other words, if you want Jenny sitting nude on the beach in "The Hot Spot", go on and Google it now. You ain't gonna find it here, you bunch of sickos. In addition, we will never steal a picture from another site and post it on the Frog Blog. We may steal a picture from another site, crudely photoshop it, and THEN post it on the Frog Blog. But we will at least never admit from where we stole it. We have our standards here.

That said, I still wanted to post a stunning photography piece true to the spirit and inspiration that is Jennifer Connelly. If I wasn't going to steal nude pix from some other website, what else can I do? I mean, this is the Internets, home of stolen nude pix. But this blog is classy with a capital 'K', so we've put together a little thing we hope you enjoy (and enjoy with your hands out of your pants) called:

Jennifer Connelly: A Photographic Salute

First up this evening in our photographic tribute to Jennifer Connelly, I submit the following:

This, of course, is a white tank-top, much like the one worn by the heart-stoppingly beautiful Jennifer Connelly in the classic "Career Opportunities". Furthermore, this tank top can be purchased at Target, which is the same store that Jennifer Connelly and some dude were locked in all night in the film. So if you buy this tank top from Target, it may (and I put 'may' in italics because it really means 'may not') be the very same one worn by Ms. Connelly, and possibly left in the Target after filming. Or it may have been returned after being worn by some 300 pound creature with fungus growing on its back during the hottest 4th of July on record. Sniff it and you decide. If you dare...

Next up on our tour, I wanted to present a stunning picture of Jennifer Connelly. However, in following the two rules I just invented (1. No naked pictures of Jennifer Connelly. Anyone else is game, but not Jennifer Connelly. 2. No stolen pictures from other websites, unless they are photoshopped beyond recognition), it makes it difficult to post anything. But, taking a page from Court TV, I now present this image. Warning: You may wish to shield your eyes if you are easily excited or your penis could possibly explode:

Now as hard as it may be to believe, but the above is an incredibly photo-realistic artist rendering, but NOT a true photograph of Jennifer Connelly. If you wish to print this breath-taking image off and hide it in the bottom of your sock drawer, you may. Just be sure and send me a few dollars to cover the costs of its creation, ok?

Finally, I am going to turn the Frog Blog in the political direction, particularly to the right, with a brief suggestion: President Bush is currently so low in the polls that someone may have just stepped on his face. I propose that, if President Bush were to get a make-over so that he had a greater resemblance to the achingly attractive Ms. Connelly, suddenly, the world would fall to his feet. He can pardon anyone he wants. He can send Americans to die and no one will question him. He can abuse the executive office and the people of this country will stop to say, "Thank you!" Just a quick make-over to bear a greater resemblance to Jennifer Connelly, and I bet you that George Bush would be re-elected again, especially if the Supreme Court had their say. What exactly am I proposing? Funny you ask, even if you didn't, because I'm going to show you now. Take a look at this and see if you just don't feel all funny and conflicted inside:

I think we, the people, just found our next President of the United States of America. And she/he is HOT! Suddenly, four more years of Bush doesn't seem so bad, now, does it? Inauguration in a white tank top, anyone?

There you go, folks, our first photo tribute to Jennifer Connelly. Expect anywhere from twenty-six to seven million more, depending on my time. I hope this doesn't crash Blogspot when it's inundated with hits. In the meantime, I think I'll leave you with these pictures while I Google-search naked Jennifer Connelly on the beach in "The Hot Spot". Wait, I mean research the Declaration of Independence. Yeah. The naked one. Yeah, baby!

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Reviews of the Ignorant: Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines, Rocky Balboa, Live Free or Die Hard, John Rambo, Alien vs. Predator, Indiana Jones 4

Today, I'd like to discuss a common occurrence that relates to everyone. No, I'm not talking about being put in The Cage for a week by your second grade teacher. And I'm not talking about catching your penis in the car door. And I'm not talking eating 32 cans of Chef Boyardee, two bags of chips, a box of King Dons, a box of Twinkees, two boxes of Hot Pockets, a 2 Liter of Coca-Cola, and a Centrum Multi-Vitamin in one sitting. Oh, and a package of beef jerky. No, I'm not- oh, and a half pound of cheese. No, I'm not-oh, and, wait, a 4 pack of Red Bull. And a package of Necco Wafers. No, I'm not talking about that. I'm also not talking about the day a person becomes an adult, that magical moment when, after years of mystery and wonder, a boy becomes a man, when he finally unzips his pants, takes a deep breath, swallows in fear and anticipation, and pushes the "Career Opportunities" tape into the VCR, only to witness the awesome power of Jennifer Connelly stuck all night in a Target with a white tank top. If there is a more beautiful thing than being stuck in a Target all night with a white tank-topped Jennifer Connelly, I have yet to find it. A panda dancing with a unicorn under a rainbow on the beach while dolphins frolic in the surf only scratches the surface of the beauty of Jennifer Connelly in a white tank top in a Target. The radiant power of this sight would make even the Eyes of God turn away. Those of us not worthy risk bursting in flames just handling my greasy VHS copy of "Career Opportunities".

But as much as these experiences speak to our commonality as humans (well, except for the penis in the door thing, which only speaks to 50% of us), these are not the events I am discussing this evening. No, I want to discuss the time when you bring home a date and your father tells some lame joke, trying to impress them. And then you go to the bathroom and you come back and your dad is French kissing your date (or, as the French say, kissing ala Francias) while rubbing her thigh. Wait, that wasn't what I meant. It's more like when your Grandpa gets up at your cousin's wedding and dances the Chicken Dance. And then his pants fall down and he's not wearing underwear and his wrinkled winkey makes a surprise wedding day appearance. Wait, no, maybe not like that. More like when your uncle shows up at the family reunion in the park with a sixteen year old girlfriend, and then they start dancing the Macarena and dry humping on the snack table. That's the common experience I'm talking about! When you see this sort of thing, you feel both pride and revulsion. Pride because, well, it's like "Hey, look at you, Uncle! Way to go, grinding on the underage hottie!". But revulsion because who wants to see their uncle molesting some neighbor kid, his hair piece falling into the onion dip, until the park ranger comes along and detains him for the police. I mean, come on, Unc', there has to be some laid-off auto-worker or school nurse down at Applebee's sucking up the half-priced appetizers that'd come with you to the reunion with you for twenty dollars. Have some dignity, man. Or at least less of a prison record.

So that's the shared experience I'm discussing in this ignorant review; the experience of seeing an old man, once marked with dignity and demanding of respect, now gyrating on a wooden picnic bench with your sister's second grade best friend. Well, that and the whole Jennifer Connelly/Target thing. That's what I'd rather talk about. But I've got a duty to you people, a duty and commitment to provide ignorant reviews, no matter what my true desire. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Damn you people. Damn you all.

Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines

During the time of my misguided youth, there was one man you could depend on to show what a man is really about, one man who stood up to the forces of evil, who defeated the Soviets and even protected us from death from outer space. One brave, strong man who we, as a country, stood behind, and the entire world would stop and listen in awe when he spoke. A man who even moved from beloved actor to become the Governor of California. I'm talking, of course, about Ronald W. Reagan. But I could also be talking about that Austrian slab of enhanced beef, Arnold Schwarzenegger. When a new Arnold movie came out, we pulled out our fake ID's and headed to see some blood spurting, limb ripping, gun-blazing action (well, except for "Kindergarten Cop"; there may have been some blood-spurting, but guns wouldn't have been allowed on school property). Arnold even starred in that Future Governor battle royale, where, along with Future Minnesota governor Jesse Ventura, Future Puerto Rico governor Carl Weathers, and Future Republic of Micronesia governor R. G. Armstrong, the Future Governor of California kicked some dread-locked space invader's ass. Never before or since have so many governors fought a space creature with such ferocity, except here in Ohio when former governor Bob Taft actually joined forces with former governor Dick Celeste and former governor and current waffling senator George Voinovich to fight the space invader that was former governor James Rhodes. Man, when Governor Rhodes ripped off his head to reveal his sixteen eyes and razor sharp, poison-filled teeth, THAT was a site to see.

Yet poor Arnold. As we come into the new millennium, he just didn't realize when to stop. Like Reagan, who continued to play the crusading hero long after anyone else in the world was interested, Arnold decided to come back for the embarrassing hump of the carcass of "The Terminator". Yeah, sure, put all the posters you want out with a naked chick on them; you can't erase the stink of Ben-Gay on this turkey. I mean, "Terminator" was cool, with a skeleton-faced Arnold as an unstoppable killing machine and skeleton-faced Linda Hamilton getting all naked and junk. And "Terminator 2" rocked, with it's liquid mercury guy and culvert truck chases that left me deaf for a week after I saw it, even if it did make Arnold the good guy, protecting some snotty kid. But fast-forward twelve years and dump "Terminator 3" on us? Nooooo, thank you very much. I get it, Arnold really IS unstoppable; give him a paycheck big enough and you can't stop him from showing up. But, please. I feel we need a recall vote on whoever greenlit this geriatric junk. If I wanted to see an old man fight robots, I'd pitch my grandpa out of the boat on "Pirates of the Caribbean" at Disneyland.

Rocky Balboa & John Rambo

Ok, growing up, there was one action hero second only to Arnold. Granted, he talked like he had a mouth full of mashed potatoes, and he had a bad habit of starring in crap like "Oscar" and "Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot!". But when it came to personifying iconic heroes beginning with the letter 'R', no one did it better than Sylvester Stallone. Sly, as I like to call him, since I'm far enough away that he can't punch me in the face, or Frank, as I like to call him as a joke, was more than a pile of muscles. I mean, the first "Rocky"- it's like "Pretty Woman" for men. Mix together a solid and much copied story with great fight scenes, top it off with Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger" ("Duh duh duh duh...duh duh duh duh duh duh...duh duh duh duh...duh duh duh duh duh duh duh..." This is the song that was playing in my head on the first day of school every single year from second grade to high school graduation. Well, with the exception of tenth grade, but, hey, I mean, Milli Vanilli was hot that year. Look at it in context, will you?), and you've got a great film. And "First Blood", while bookended with too much talking, was followed up with the ass-kicking "Rambo: First Blood, Part II". And "Rocky III" had the beautiful casting of BOTH Mr. T and Hulk Hogan, effectively rating this movie "GC" for "Gold Chains". Never in the history of filmdom has the gold chain budget exceeded the craft services budget. And while "Rambo III" may have single-handedly been responsible for the rise of the Taliban, at least Sly could run through the desert without his knees popping.

Ah, but he just couldn't give up, now. "Rocky Balboa"- who asked for that? I mean, even Jake LaMotta had the good sense to get fat and become a stand-up comedian. Come on, encouraging the elderly to get exercise is one thing, but I'm thinking mall walking, not professional boxing. Although, once, at the corner grocery, one old guy bumped another old guy's cart with his electric wheelchair, and they started scrapping right there in front of the produce. It was a pretty good fight, too, until the one guy busted a bottle of prune juice over the other guy's head, causing the second guy to pull out a grenade he'd been carrying since the end of World War II and threaten to pull the pin, screaming that the whole bunch of us just standing around cheering and having a good time were "Nazi Japs!" Luckily, the store manager turned the fire hose on the old guy before his hands could stop shaking enough to get the pin out. Unluckily, the grenade dropped and blew up anyhow. Luckily, it was all the free groceries you could run out the hole in the wall until the police came and pepper-sprayed the whole bunch of us. But I did manage to load up the Family Truckster with a ton of baked apples, grenade-fried green tomatoes, and blackened kabobs. My kids had never even SEEN vegetables before that day, and we thought of that old guy many times after my sight came back as we ate the spoils of his explosive anger. Thank you, Greatest Generation!

But I digress. Speaking of grenades, how about "John Rambo"? Now, I know, some of you may be asking "How can you review a movie that's not even released yet"? And some of you may not be asking that. And that's ok. For those of you who are, I kindly point out that, since I haven't SEEN this flick, it is eligible for review. Just because you haven't seen it either doesn't disqualify it. And, if you don't like it, that "Next Blog" button is calling your name. Move on to "Maximize Your Computer's Speed" or "My NY Life". For the rest of us, let me just give you my opinion of "John Rambo"- It sucks. Why, you ask? Why not, I answer. I mean, are you going to rush out to see this? What kind of freaks of nature, aside from Sylvester Stallone, were sitting around hoping that they'd make a sequel to "Rambo"? I can just see the soldiers of fortune who would wait in line for the premiere of this, only to be pissed off when Rambo spends the first half hour of the film waiting for his Celebrex to be delivered from his mail pharmacy so he can go save a bunch of Christian missionaries. You think there's a lot of firepower in a WWII veteran's fight in front of the cabbage? Try watching "John Rambo" in a theater with a guy in camouflage and face paint and twelve pounds of TNT strapped to his back. "Rambo" was alright in the day when we weren't actually fighting anyone. But, in our stupid times, when we have to watch our neighbors die in a real war for no reason, watching Sylvester Stallone wading through the jungles of Burma in a swim diaper just doesn't have that much relevance. I say it again- It sucks.

Live Free or Die Hard

Besides winning the second runner up for most retarded title of all times (the champion remains "Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot!"), I really have to wonder about this thing. This sounds like something a marketing guy who grew up watching "Die Hard" would come up with. Bruce Willis is great. I actually love almost everything he has done. And, to this day, I love watching the original two "Die Hard"s. I just watched the first one the other day with my 4 year old son, and, despite the crying and sobbing and being scared all night, I know he loved it. "Die Hard with a Vengeance"- eh. Take it or leave it. You can tell the suck quotient of a movie by counting the number of words in the title. George Lucas has proven that the maximum word count you can have in a title is '4' (ie, "The Empire Strikes Back") Any more than '4', and, viola, suck! "Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines"- already categorically proven to suck. "Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot!" Not only displaying its suckiness through word count, but also through abuse of exclamation marks. "Live Free or Die Hard"; now I'm no mathematical genius, but I do believe we've exceeded that 4-word limit. Don't try and cheat and say conjunctions don't count. I think we know what a 5-word title means- SUCK!

(Now some wise-acre out there on the Internets will no doubt bring up "Dr. Strangelove: Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb". Technically, though, you can choose to call it "Dr. Strangelove" and end there. The rest is just subtitle. "Live Free of Die Hard"? No choice- choose just "Live Free" or "Die Hard" and you have an incomplete sentence, which just won't do for a film title.)

Where was I? Oh yeah, "Live Free of Die Hard". Sucks. Give the action up, Bruce. Stick with the ghost kids and the quirky mob comedies and you'll be alright. But since you gave me the choice, I choose to live free- free of ever seeing this Medicare sponsored assisted suicide of a film. At least Bruce can use his Golden Age discount to get in to see the thing, and probably buy a Child's discount ticket for whoever he's dating at the time, too.

Alien vs. Predator

Ok, this is just ridiculous. Two senior citizen monsters duking it out in a frozen wasteland. Kinda like when my Grandma and Grandpa go downstairs to the freezer and argue over having lasagna or chicken for dinner. In the annals and anals of unnecessary sequels, this just may be the most unnecessary SUCK-quel of all times. I mean, what's the appeal here? See the Alien pop out his false teeth at the Predator! See the Predator taking Propecia in an effort to stop his dreads from falling out! See both monsters in a battle to the death over whether diabetic supplies are covered by Medicare Part B or Part D! When the climax of the thing involves a fierce chess match in the park, you know that the resurrection and rape of my childhood memories is complete. When I sat down and watched "Alien" on HBO at the ripe old age of 3, I was witness to the creation of fourteen years of fear-induced insomnia and night terrors. And "Alien 2", directed, like "Terminator"s 1 and 2, by the great James Cameron, taught me the joys of using the word "Bitch". "Predator", with it's dueling governors and rasta monster, was a fun-house hoot. But unless you spent your weekends in the basement on the Internets posting fictional battle match-ups on discussion boards ("Oooh, the Sleestacks vs. the Borg!") while sneaking glimpses of porn whenever your seventy year old mom leaves the room to refill her hot milk, you do not want to see this disaster. I could picture entire theaters filled with losers like wiki-contributors, discussion board moderators, and self-absorbed blog posters filling theaters for this mess. Uh, wait a minute. Blog posters? Uh, nevermind. They probably wouldn't see this. Next.

Indiana Jones IV

Finally, here is a creaky film franchise I can get behind, if only because the first and third installments rocked so hard that they became a part of my soul. Even "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom", although it included the annoying, screaming blond chick and the super-annoying stereotypical Asian kid, also had monkey brains and heart-yanking and was solely responsible for the PG-13 rating. PG-13, which basically said to us kids, "This movie should be rated 'R', but we want your money so bad that we're gonna let you in", was the badge of honor for all the classic films we needed to see when our moms wanted to drop us off so that they could have two hours of quiet time at the Sears white sale. So what is Indiana Jones IV about? Who cares! It's Indiana Jones! I fear that, when this comes out, I'm gonna have to put on my geek hat and rush to see it. And, sitting in that theater, I'll again be twelve years old, using my fake ID to get into a PG-13 flick, sneaking in that bottle of whiskey I bought before the show with that same fake ID, holding hands with Greg Turner. Wait. Not really holding hands. I didn't mean that. I meant putting them on the same arm rest. Well, he might have tried to hold mine, but I kicked his ass right there, just to show him! I beat him in the head with that whiskey bottle! He'd never try that crap again. But we were just friends, that's all. Just reaching for the armrest at the same time. And, just to prove it, I even had the courage to hit him with a bottle. Of course, the next time, he did bring that grenade into the theater he'd stolen from his grandpa and try to blow me up with it. But that's what real men do; even if they accidentally brush hands in a dark theater, they are more than ready to beat each other in the head with a bottle, or blow each other up. We proved it all those years ago. Those two old guys proved it in the supermarket. And I'd prove it again, if I was ever forced to, like down a dark alley, or in my car at the Walmart parking lot, and another man tried to hold my hand or something. But that's because I'm all man.

Anyways, Indiana Jones IV will take me back to a simpler time, when sodas couldn't be Biggie-sized and my greatest worry was whether my mom could sober up enough to feed us dinner that night. And, really, isn't that the joy of the movies? Isn't that what the movies are all about? A few hours of timelessness, of holding hands with another man and smashing bottles over heads and blowing things up? THAT'S why God made movies. It is too bad, however, that, on the 2nd day, God made cash, and the studios are so desperate for it that they'll wheel out aged action heroes to try and separate us, the audience, from it. That's why I refuse to see any of these movies (well, except "Indiana Jones IV"- We all have our weaknesses) Rather than forcing them to hump on the picnic table, to try and smash bottles they can hardly pick up, let these shuffling heroes fade out to where they should be: locked forever in our memories, fighting to the death in the supermarket, or fighting off osteoporosis while eating dog food because their social security checks are late again.

Alright, already, Grandpa! I'm done! Quit your yelling and banging your cane on the table! I know you want it, and I'll get you your Father's Day cake!

My Rating: "Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines"- 0 Stars, and 0 more from the future
"Rocky Balboa"- 1/2 star, just for reminding me to hum "Eye of the Tiger" while I typed this
"John Rambo"- 0 Stars, with a bullet
"Live Free of Die Hard"- 0 Stars for living free, and another 0 stars for dying hard
"Alien vs. Predator"- negative a million stars, one for every fanboy who quietly shed a tear of joy when they heard that this disaster was in production
"Indiana Jones IV"- a hundred million billion quatrillion stars. Come on, Indiana Jones rocks! Unless he breaks a hip jumping from a train car, I'll be there for this one. Disagree with me, and I'll hit you with a bottle. Virtually, of course.

(And for all you ladies out there, I didn't forget that reanimated dinosaur of the fair sex, Sharon Stone, and the amazingly unnecessary "Basic Instinct II". The problem is, I was somehow tricked into watching this thing, probably by the promise of seeing boobs, no matter how prune-like and gravity-ravaged, so, technically, I cannot give an ignorant review of this beast. Needless to say, whoever watches this flick deserves visions of Sharon Stone's blue-haired pubes to haunt their nightmares until their own social security runs out. It's like I said to my wife when she warned me not to rent this: "T'wat did you say? I cunt hear you. Oh well, I'll finger it out later".)

Saturday, July 14, 2007

Reviews of the Ignorant: Pay It Forward

Hello to all our first time visitors, including myself, since it has been so long since I have been here, I feel like my blogging hymen has grown over and I'm being touched for the very first time! First off, I want to apologize to our long-time fans. Both of you may have noticed that the last one or two or six posts were sub-par. Unfortunately, I feel suspicious characters, like demons and international spies and republicans, may have gained unauthorized access to this blog, and totally changed the theme. In order to correct this tragic waste that has quite possibly caused a hole in the blogosphere, I have fired the entire writing staff and placed a fine, upstanding citizen, who has just recently learned he has more time than he originally anticipated, in charge of quality control (that's you, Mr. Libby! Wave to our loyal readers, Scoot!). No more political rants or satanic penguins (Although I really love you penguins- really, really I do!). No more whorish attempts to drive blog traffic. We're gonna get back to basics and remember our special purpose.

And what, you new readers may ask, is our special purpose? To find the topless pictures of Miss New Jersey. No! Wait! See, that's the kind of inappropriate thing we are banishing from this blog. No, our special purpose is to provide the readers far and wide on the Internets with reviews of movies I have never seen. Why? Because it is the Manifest Destiny of all loyal Americans to decide their opinions before even having any knowledge of the subject. And I'm going to continue, as a true patriot, to do just that.

So it has been a while since I posted here, and the main problem is that I have actually seen some movies! It sure does make it hard to review movies you haven't seen when you've seen them. Anyone can review a movie they've seen. They do it all the time: "Oh, go see 'Live Free of Die Hard'. I saw it this weekend, and it was a great film to watch while I had relations with my boyfriend!" or "Man, that "Transformers" was great, 'cause trucks and stuff and blowing up and stuff and it rocked, dude! Shit!" These are actual reviews taken from a) a discussion board posting on the Focus on the Family website and b) Gene Shalit on "The Today Show". See, anyone can do that! But true skill comes from reviewing the films you HAVEN'T seen. So, when I saw some movies, all of the sudden, the pool of films that I hadn't seen became, like, 3 films smaller. And this makes it, well, all the movies ever made minus three times harder to find something I haven't seen. But I am committed, at least my wife says I should be, so I search far and wide, in the darkest corners of the Internets, to come up with a flick I have never seen that I can review for you. And, after passing up "Find Flicks That You Have Never Seen Ringtones" and "Buy Flicks That You Have Never Seen on Ebay" and "Flicks That You Have Never Seen: $9.99 and Up", I finally found one that has never passed my corneas. So, after a brief hiatus for quality control, I proudly bring to you a brand-spanking new Ignorant Review.

Pay It Forward

Now, when I was growing up, my mother always told me "Son, whatever you do, don't make fun of retarded people, unless they make fun of you first. Or if you just can't help it and you want to impress your friends with how funny you are." And this was wise advice that I took to heart, or at least took more to heart than her other advice: "Son, never take a hit off of a three-storey bong." Man, I wish I had listened to her on that one. If I had, I'd probably still have two lungs, and my left eye wouldn't twitch so bad. Let me tell you, waking up the next morning with three dead squirrels down your pants, that it not good news, not by a long shot.

But the stuff about retarded people, that I really listened to, well, at least outside of the third grade talent show. I mean, come on, those autistic jokes killed! Yeah, and there was the fourth grade talent show, but that was the year observational humor was all the rage. And, well, I guess, also not counting the sixth grade talent show, or the seventh grade talent show. At least I was banned due to parental complaints from the eighth grade talent show, so I had to listen then. But I was back with a vengeance for the ninth grade talent show, and I had some of the best retard jokes ever uttered in front of a high school audience, including the special visitors that day, the school board and the superintendent! His voice may have said things like, "inappropriate" and "horrifying" and "being transferred to another district", but his eyes, his eyes, they were laughing. Probably only helped because he had adopted two Down syndrome kids- he knew it was funny because it was TRUE!

But that aside, I have really felt bad whenever I have made fun of retarded people, all thanks to my mom. So it makes it hard to write a sensitive review of "Pay It Forward". I mean, if there has ever been a movie guilty of being strapped into a seat on the short bus, this has to be it. How can I review it? One wrong move, and its "expulsion" time all over again, only this wouldn't be out of Rutherford B. Hayes High- no, we're talking expulsion out of the INTERNETS THEMSELVES!!! And it's not like you can be sent to another Internet across town or anything. As far as I know, there isn't an Internet were all the blacks and Italians go, and they all beat you up at the bike racks after logging on. And then it gets even worse when you do your act at the tenth grade talent show, just trying to entertain people, make a few friends, and how are you supposed to know that Guiseppe Calabrese had a mentally retarded sister? I mean, I can understand how dealing with pressure like that could make you want to stab someone in the neck, but why would you choose a guy just telling some jokes at your talent show? I mean, learn to laugh at yourself, buddy! But, if you're reading this, I don't mean that disrespectfully, Guiseppe. In fact, I'll be happy to write your blog, too, just as soon as I finish mine. Just don't get near my neck again, okay?

Uh, where was I? Oh, yeah, "Pay It Forward". Man, does this movie suck like Antony Abrazi's sister in the coat check room at the Junior Prom (which was themed, by the way, as "1001 Promabian Nights"). I mean, come on, what's the idea of this thing? Be nice to someone, and you'll get something nice back? I gave up this idea when they told me in Sunday School that, if I put my last quarter in the collection plate, I'd get a warm feeling inside. And the only warm feeling I got was when I turned around and caught the sleeve of my robe on fire on the candle behind me. Well, there was that warmth combined with the warmth in my pants when I urinated after seeing the fire spread up my sleeve. And then, of course, whenever I went back to Sunday School, not only did kids flick me in the skin grafts, but everyone called me "Little Pissy Fire-Arm Boy", even the teacher. Like that was worth a quarter. And yet, despite proving this idea scientifically wrong, people continue to believe it. Just the other day, I got an email that had a joke about a woman, a plumber, and her husband's balls, and, at the bottom, right next to the thing that said "Jesus is the Man, and Mary is the Motha!" This joke promised that if I forwarded it to 1802 people, a big sack of money would fall through my roof. And something fell through my roof, alright, but it was a bunch of water because I hadn't cleaned the gutters in twelve years! Of course, my wife pointed out, as we huddled out of the way of the howling storm outside the six foot hole in the roof, that I had actually only forwarded to 1751 people, and the fine print of the email said that, if you emailed to 80-1764 people, your roof would cave in, but no money would fall through, only water. Man, fine print blows! Of course, the people I really feel sorry for are the people who only emailed 0-79 people, 'cause the email said a dead musk ox would fall through their roof. Ouch! But here, yet again, is an example of how, no matter what number of emails you pay forward, most likely nothing but water and dead animals will fall through your roof. As the French say, "Grande merde!" (Ok, I admit it, for the sake of total truthfulness, I have never heard a French person say that, but I expect, if a dead musk ox fell through their roof, that is the kind of thing they might say.)

Anyways, "Pay It Forward" not only sucks, but it lies worse than those Jesus & Mary chain-emails. And it stars Kevin Spacey, who somehow got a reputation of being a good actor while starring in horrible films. Maybe it's the same reason that I hang around with nothing but grotesquely fat people; it makes me look thin. So Kevin Spacey stars in a pile of crapiola like "A Time To Kill" (which I have also never seen, but I am automatically assuming is terrible) and he looks good in comparison to the horrendous stench the rest of the flick is throwing off. I mean, seriously, "K-PAX"? Sounds like something you're gonna have to take penicillin for for two weeks. "Beyond the Sea"? That's the best place for that movie. "The Shipping News"? If no news is good news, then we all must know what, based on its existence, this thing is- BAD! Someone out there is shouting that "American Beauty" was a good flick, but I challenge you to watch that again. When the most lively character is a bag blowing in the wind, you know you're in trouble. Plus that Mena Suvari! Yikes! In the spirit of trying to hold this blog to its stated goal of quality, classy ignorant reviews, I won't say she is ugly or anything. But, my gosh, I've seen things that look like that eating crayfish off the bottom of a creek. If I'm gonna believe that a grown man is going to ruin his life over an underage girl, she sure as heck better not look like she could be cleaning algae off a fish tank.

In addition to Keven Spacey, this heap stars Haley Joel Osmond, the youngest of the Osmond family who used to see dead people. The most frightening dead thing he's seen lately would have to be his career. I mean, here's a kid who is all cute and good in "The Sixth Sense", and, by the time he hits "Pay It Forward", looks and acts like Howdy Doody on crack. Plus, I think he was thirty-two when this film was made, but he plays, like, a nine-year old. Sadly, I do think Mr. Osmond actually exploded and died after eating Pop Rocks and washing it down with Diet Coke. Either that, or he was killed in Vietnam. After finding out that Mr. Green Jeans was his father. And there were snake eggs in his hat. Whatever it was, so much for the reunion concert.

And then there is Helen Hunt. Ms. Hunt, despite having a little moustache action going on, wasn't an unattractive woman. I can excuse the moustache, as it was probably genetic; the women in my family have them going back for sixteen generations, and some cave paintings in France show that they may have had them even further back than that. Heck, Alicia Silverstone sported a full blown handlebar complete with waxed up twisty sides in "Batman and Robin", and she's still hot. And Helen Hunt had the good sense to realize that, in "Twister", the white tank-top is the uniform of choice for an actress. Especially in a movie filled with rain. But here, my friends, lies the rub- there is only one woman who rocks the white tank top in a film that ever matters, and all women who attempt it are about as attractive as my dad in his wifebeater undershirt in comparison. I'm talking, of course, about the radiantly beautiful Jennifer Connelly in "Career Opportunities". When Jennifer Connelly slipped her acting into that white tank top, all other women of the world better give it up, because you just aren't going to compare. Try a hot pink, or a mint, or whatever other color Old Navy has on sale. But leave the white on the rack, 'cause it has already been filmed on the greatest rack of all times. Any woman who DARES to wear the white tank top will only be crushed by the memory of the insanely gorgeous, stunningly talented, and incredibly intelliigent Jennifer Connelly. It's like if you take a Bob Ross painting course and then hang your happy little trees up next to Van Gogh's "Starry Night". Your mom might say, "Awww, honey, your's is the best in here!", but she's really thinking, "You worked real hard and all, but that looked a lot better in the basement rec room than in a museum". So Helen Hunt can never be forgiven for attempting to fill the white tank top of filmdom. Therefore, every film she has ever done after "Twister" is instantly filed under "Suck". Like the old saying says, "If you dance with angels in white tank tops, be prepared to grind".

So there you have it. A lying movie filled with a white tank top wanna-be, a mythological kiddie-singer, and Kevin Spacey, who probably does a great job in the film just because the rest is such a load of hooey. In the spirit of the film, I'm going to attempt to pass something kind and good on to make the world a better place using the power of the Internets- DO NOT WATCH THIS MOVIE UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES! There. That is such a great public service I expect something amazing to happen. I'm going to sit back and wait for a bag of money to fall through my roof. Should be easy enough with that hole already there.


Well, well, who could be knocking at this hour, outside of a set-up for a lame joke? Let me see! Hey! Antony Abrazi! I haven't seen you since right before graduation, when you gave me that swirly that got those poop stains on my graduation cap! So what brings- uh, what do you mean? Yeah, you must have the wrong person. I, uh, I mean, I wouldn't know anything about your sister at the Junior Prom. I wasn't even there, how would I have anything to say about her? I mean, remember, I was going to ask my girlfriend to go with me and all, but she lived in Canada or Indiana or something, and she never could get down for the dances and stuff, and her religion didn't allow her to come out on weekends anyway. What do you mean, the stuff I wrote? Scroll up? Well, hold on...

Ooohhh...that comment. Well, that was a joke, you know. I don't really know anything about her and sucking and the coat check room. I'm just going on what the football team said the next day. And the pictures they had. I mean, seriously, Antony, even you had to know that your sister was known for her 'oral skills', even though she never was in the debate club. In fact, in Health class, Coach Dover used his time with her as an example to us of-

Hey, put that down! Get that knife away from my neck! I'm serious! I'm a brown-stained belt in twelve different types of fu! Put it away, man, lets just talk! Don't make me kill you with my bare hands! Back off! PUT IT AWAY, I MEAN IT! I mean, remember all the good times we had, like all the times Principal Skinner would take your sister down to the office to paddle her for four hours at a time-


My Rating: 0 Stars, except for Kevin Spacey, who looked really good compared to the rest of the movie

Trivia: It is a little known Hollywood secret that Helen Hunt, Jodie Foster, and LeeLee Sobieski are THE SAME PERSON. There has been cost analysis done with the idea of all three of them appearing in the same film and, due to the amount of split screen and CGI work that would be involved, it would be THE MOST EXPENSIVE FILM EVER MADE, so expensive, in fact, that just the mere trivial mention of it would have to be in all caps. To make this film, the world would have to spend the entire agricultural budget of Benin, and just making this film would cause this entire nation of 8.5 million to starve. Due to budget concerns, and the ethical considerations in wiping out an entire independent African nation, the film was recast starring three Lindsay Lohan's and Clyde the Orangutan, but, upon realizing that Clyde had been dead for twenty years and that, again, considerable CGI would be required to make him appear alive, the film was soon recast featuring Disney Channel star and screeching singer Ashley Tisdale, along with her two twin sisters. This seemingly doomed project was finally released in 2006 as the hit musical, "Apocalypto".

Wednesday, July 4, 2007

Reviews of the Ignorant: Autumn in New York

Happy 4th of July! I'm back from my brief visit to Antartica, and, man, was I wrong about penguins! They are swell! (Shaking involuntarily). Really, really swell!

Being the 4th of July, I do want to take it off and spend some time with the family. In fact, my wife made sure I wanted to by threatening my cojones (or, as the French say, le cojones) with a blender. But I didn't want to let you, my constant reader, and by that I mean myself, down by not posting an ignorant review today. So I have generously arranged for my brother-in-law, Wayne, to step in and provide this special holiday Review of the Ignorant.

So, ladies and germs, lets set off a round of fireworks and toss an extra burger on the grill for my brother-in-law Wayne. And remember, if today is your birthday, you must be Tom Cruise in a wheelchair.

Now, Wayne, take it away!

Autumn in New York

I don't quite know what I got to do on this here Internets. I mean, I don't even like to get near the Internets. It's the devil. Full up a' children pornographers and them ID thieves, I don't wanna be catched up in this Worl' Wide Web myself. But when Matt tells me he is gonna jest ferget that there twenty dollars he loaned me (which I did pay him back. Ain't my fault if'n his wife done took the money before he got it), well, I guess sometimes a man jest gotta hold his nose and shovel the shit, if you know what I mean. For twenty dollars, I'd eat the shit, if'n I had to.

What was I talkin' about? Oh, some stupid movie review. What's the name of this thing? "Autumn in New York"? Man, that sounds terrible! But I never seen the thing. How would I know nothing about it? I ain't gonna write nothin' about this. Post some crap 'bout this on the Internets, what a waste a' time. I don't care 'bout no twenty dollars. I ain't gonna write this.

I guess since I got the space, I mighta well write somethin', know what I mean? Bein' as how this is the birthday a' the greatest place in the Universe, the U. S. of A, maybe I should say a few words 'bout the greatest leader we have ever had, President George Jefferson Bush. Now, a lot a' your garden variety pinkos and New York liberals are gonna vomit when they read that sentence, and ta that I say, vomit away ya dirty, herb-smokin' hippies! In fact, the thought a' that there vomit makes me smile so much, I think I'll jest say it again: George Jefferson Bush is the greatest president we have ever done had! Take that, all ya Hollywood wackos and communist lefties! Hope ya got your puke buckets handy!

Now, even a few a' my close personal acquaintances have been so brainwashed by the liberal mainstream media that they might say things like "George Bush is a nut" or "George Bush has greatly overstepped the separation of powers in expanding the bounds and autonomy of the executive branch" or " George Bush sucks donkey dong" or "George Bush sucks llama tits" or some other such "George Bush sucks (insert your own animal genitalia here)". Well, to them, all I can do is cry (on the inside- I have never actually cried in my life, not even when my hand got caught in the strainer at work an' two a' my fingers ended up in the beer bottles. Not even when I saw my own mother sucked up in that there tornado, yelling "I'll get you my pretty" while she disappeared into its guts. Not even when my oldest son was born with that second head. Well, now, I do have to admit, I did get a little bit a' dust in my eye when I read that Ronald Reagan died. But it was dust, not tears.) To those people, who are traitors against this here great nation in their refusal to support our Commander in Chief, I feel sad, and I also feel like I'd like to rip their heads off and spit down their bloody necks.

Sorry 'bout that, folks. My sponsor says I gotta control my anger more, but let it out more creatively, like paintin' a mural or writin' a song. So I wrote a' song called "These Colors Don't Run", but now I'm bein' sued for copyright infringement, so it jest goes to show you can't win when them liberals is making the laws. An' that, no matter what 'conditions of continued employment' they require, it ain't worth it to have a sponsor. There's other jobs, an', even if'n there ain't, there's always disability 'cause a' them missin' fingers. And the missin' eye, but that was back in the mines anyhow.

Anyhow, why is George Bush the greatest leader we've ever had the grace of God and the Su-preme Court to be blessed with? 'Cause he makes a stand, and he ain't gonna waiver. No matter how many people are killed, no matter how wrong his stand may prove to be, no matter when everyone turns against him and leaves him twistin' like Saddam at the end a' his rope, with them Shia pets or whatever them people are called cheerin' and whoopin' like it's a tractor pull, George Bush ain't gonna change his mind. That is the mark a' true man, know what I mean? If you can stand up and say, not jest at the stupid AA meeting but in front a' the whole world, "I'm wrong and I'ma gonna continue to be wrong", well, you jest demonstrated you ain't no pussy in my book, I tell you what. An' I do got a few books a' pussies.

Why else is George Bush the greatest leader of the free world, and greatest conqueror of the unfree world? Well, there is his tax cuts, which got me an extra fifty-two dollars back last year. 'Course they cut my disability by seven hun'ert dollars a month, but, unlike most whiny liberals, I am more than willing to sacrifice for the country I loved. Then there is his plan for universal health care, which will surely help me when I got ta have that there brain surgery from the coal bore stuck in my skull. I mean, President Bush is there for the workin' man, lettin' us keep more of our checks instead of givin' it out for welfare, and then we can put it into that there Healthcare Savings Account. I jest got my monthly statement the other day, an' I got almost two hun'ert and thirty-seven dollars in my savings account, an' it's only gonna take, what, another eleven thousand eight hun'ert dollars to get that surgery done? Back when I had insurance, so much a' my check was goin' to welfare and handouts that I know I never coulda afforded that fifty dollar co-payment they was wantin'. With my Healthcare savings account, I finally am trusted to pay for my own procedures, when I want them, not when some insurance is telling me to get them. An' it ain't like Canada, where I'd have to wait two months to get this here surgery. No, ma'm, as soon as I got the money in the account, which'n I figure will take only 'bout sixty-two years or so, I can walk into that there surgeon that same day and require they get this bore outta my head. So long, uncontrollable black-outs and loss a' bowel control! And no socialist government is gonna tell me when I can walk in an' get that done!

An' terrorism? Hands down I am happy we got President Bush watchin' our collective asses. I mean, he had ta clean up Slick Willie Clinton's mess with that there World Trade Center, what with Clinton missing that Bosama Al Ladin, or whatever his name is, when he had his chance to take him out. And clean up he did! Those men and women who are losing their lives and legs in Iraq understand why they're there: we got to protect our world and are oil. Like my song says, these colors don't run, but that oil sure flows! An', ever' time I'm down at the Speedy's fillin' up the truck, I remember that some poor kids legs had to be lost for me to do that. 'Course, since my disability been cut back, I haven't been able to put much more'n a gallon or so in the truck at a time, but the missus don't need more than that to get back 'n forth to the gas station now, does she? An' that, again, is a sacrifice I'm willin' to pay for my freedom. I'd be in Iraq myself, but, a' course, with this coal bore there in my head, not much I can do now, is there? It's like we used to say when we were back playing football: there's athletes and athletic supporters. Well, with this war, there are wars and war supporters. An' I knew it would be a long haul there in Iraq. It's not like them there people know how to run a government, with all their "Ali Admiral Ackbar" and whatever else, know what I mean? I knew it wouldn't be easy, and I am more than willing to support those troops 'til the job is done. Cut an' Run? Give me Gut for Fun! I'm right there with them troops, watchin' them on Fox News and sendin' them my prayers, all the way to the end. No way I'm givin' up on them. I'm a patriot, baby! If it takes the sacrifice of seein' the dead ever' night on Fox News, I'm up for the long haul, and I know they ain't dead in vain.

So, between his blind loyalty to faulty ideas, his cuttin' a' communist social services, his tax cuts that heavily skew towards investment income (an', I tell you what, I got over sixty-seven dollars myself in the credit union Christmas fund! That there's my money, ain't no taxes on that thanks ta President Bush!), his bravery in sendin' our children (well, not mine, in particular- they are all in the custody of county protective services anyhow, but I'm talkin' about 'our children' as a county) off to proudly defend our country, and his wisdom to allow the free market and competition to control prices of necessary utilities, such as oil, not to mention the fact that he brought integrity back to the Oval Office after eight years of the Clinton nightmare (Scooter Libby, you got! Stand by your man, Mr. President! That, you Internet freaks, is true integrity), and you can see why President George Jefferson Bush is the greatest president in the history a' this country. He may be the greatest president in the history a' the universe (which I am sure we can find out for certain when he finally gets his program goin' to send a man to Mars and we can access the historical record there- it ain't enough to conquer this planet for President Bush- no way, he's gonna conquer that there Communist Red planet as well),

And anyone who disagrees with me is a tree huggin' leftist who would rather call names and slander than kiss my ass in the arena of ideas that I inhabit. And, even if they had a good point, they wouldn't last a second when I hit 'em in the head with a bottle.

Enough a' that crap. It sure does take it outta a man to try and type all this junk with only three fingers on one a' your hands. And I believe I'm gonna have diarrhea. Too many burgers, I guess. Oh, man, I jest did. Not again.

My Rating: What the hell does that mean? 'My Rating' a' what? That stupid movie? Well, how would I know, I ain't never seen the thing. Reviewing a movie ya'll never seen, that's the stupidest nonsense I ever heard. But I will tell you this, for George Bush, I give fifty stars an' seventeen strips. So my rating's fifty stars. An' these colors don't run, baby! But my bowels sure do. Excuse me.

God Bless America! I Rock-y the Iraqis!

Oh, man, not again. Honey, you'ins get in here an' help me with this mess!

Tuesday, July 3, 2007

Nothing To See Here. Please Move Along.


For the following 24 hours, this blog will be monitored for appropriate content by the PBS (Penguin Broadcasting System) due to unfortunate recent postings. Remember, appropriate content is defined as "encouraging respect and tolerance to all living creatures, but especially penguins". Inappropriate content is defined as encountered. We apologize for any inconvenience to all but the author as this blog completes its penguin monitoring requirements and author repositioning and attitude adjustment.

In the meantime, please note that the rest of the penguin-controlled Internet is open and operating normally. Kindly move along by clicking the "Next Blog" button above, or, perhaps, enter "Paris Hilton" in your browser's search bar, and you will be returned to your penguin-approved web content. Remember- it is the firm belief of penguins that free-speech is an inherent right, as long as the speech is correct.

Again, nothing to see here. Please move along. We will return you to the regularly scheduled blog content as soon as the monitoring and author questioning period is completed. Nothing to see here, but Lohan is naked a few pages over. Please move along. Please disperse.

Thank you for remaining compliant and docile-

Daemon Mailer
Lord High Penguin &
Vice-President of Appropriate Internet Content
P.S. Jennifer Connelly ROCKS!

Monday, July 2, 2007

List-o-rama! Penguin Edition!

What's black and white and red all over?

A penguin hit by a snowmobile!

Ah, eat all the veal you want, folks, I'll be here, floating in cyberspace, for eternity.

Anyhow, being a holiday week and all, I've decided to revisit that previous popular feature (popular with me, that is, since it took so little time, effort, or thought to produce) List-o-Rama! A little gift from you.

The subject of tonight's List-o-Rama is penguins. Now, I'm not talking about the stinky, slightly creepy-in-an-alien-way penguins that you find at your zoo, with their feet all cracked and crusty and their disgusting personal hygiene habits, including poop covered rocks. No, I'm talking about the cute movie penguins that are so popular now, what with "March of the Penguin Youth" and "Happy Marching Feet", and "Surf's Up! (So Quit Your Damn Marching and Get to the Ocean!)" Now it is a well-known but little verbalized fact that penguins control all media, ESPECIALLY the Internet, which is why you so often see movies about penguins, but so rarely see blog postings critical of penguins (and, allow me to point out, that this posting is not meant to be critical in any way, only informative and reflective of my love for our penguin overlords). The last thing I want is an army of marching penguins headed up my driveway to peck my eyes out in the attic. No, sir. I love me some penguins. Hear that, penguins! I love you! What? The joke at the beginning? Well, come on now, a little humor just makes you look kinder right? Everyone loves penguins. Well, Mel Gibson may not love penguins, but he was drunk, anyhow. That's why the rest of us keep giving you our money when you make your movies. What? More money? To avoid an accident? But I don't have anym- Alright, get your razor sharp, black beaks away from me! I'll get you your money. Just let me finish this posting.

Anyhoo, knowing that I have two rather large Emperor Penguins reading this over my shoulder as I write (back off, fish breath!) to monitor for "quality purposes", allow me to waste no further time in presenting, the Top Seventeen Favorite Movies of Those Most Glorious, Mighty and Wise, Yet Benevolent and Kind Birds Called Penguins.

Oh, and they want me to make it known that they CAN fly, they just choose not to. They prefer to march.

Top Seventeen Favorite Movies of Those Most Glorious, Mighty and Wise, Yet Benevolent and Kind Birds Called Penguins, Who Could Fly if They Wanted to, but Instead Prefer to March, Unlike the Flamingos, Who are Just Too Stupid From Standing Around in the Sun to Even Bother to Fly

1. March of the Penguins (Of course. Penguins are soooooo predictable.) (OUCH!)

2. Happy Feet (Again, how predict- OUCH! I'M BLEEDING, YOU JACKASS!)

3. Surf's Up! (No comment)

4. Madagascar (What's the deal with computer animated penguins? Is it some kind of feature that comes with the software, like "Penguin Animation: Shift-P"?)

5. Peeping Penguins (Banned on every continent except Antarctica)

6. Cry of the Penguins

7. Mr. Forbush and the Penguins (This is actually the SAME film as #6, but penguin's are not film connoisseurs (or as the French say, le connoisseurs penguine) and their attention spans are too short to realize that- OW! CUT IT OUT WITH THE BEAK, ALREADY!)

8. The Hot Spot (as with all living creatures, penguins love a naked Jennifer Connelly sitting on the bank of a lake)

9. Penguins Behind Bars (This is a real production- I didn't make it up. Of course, when a penguin goes to prison, they do save on money as they don't have to issue the black and white jump-suit)

10. Avenger Penguins (starring Steven Segal)

11. Penguin Justice (strangely, also starring Steven Segal)

12. The Penguin Always Rings Twice

13. Penguin's Under Seige (Steven Segal was not available, so starring Jean Claude Van Damme)

14. Of Penguins and Peacocks (strangely enough, I expect you can guess which one wins both talent and swimsuit competition and which one gets its beautiful tail feathers caught on fire)

15. Help Me (I'm Being Held Hostage By Emperor Penguins) (This is not a real movie title but is instead a desperate disguised cry for help while the penguins that invaded my home after I started typing this entry headed into the kitchen for a glass of ice and mackerel)

16. Des manchots et des hommes (since most penguins are blind from the glare off the ice sheet, this is not available in a subtitled version at this point, but only in a crappy dubbed version where the words don't match the beak movements AT ALL. Penguin dubbing is far inferior to that of Pelicans)

17. The Emperor Penguin Strikes Back

And there you have it, folks, a comprehensive, penguin moderator approved listing of the Top Seventeen Favorite Movies of the Glorious Penguin. I encourage you, if you cannot get enough penguins, to purchase everything from the Beanie Babies to the breakfast cereal. And it's like I always say, Elephant Seals Suck!

See you-wait. What? Uh, I don't know what you are talking about, #15. #15? You mean, in the list? Yeah, uh, well, that is a movie that, uh, I, well, it's like this-

(crunch, crunch, CRRRRCK!- then, silence...)