Friday, June 27, 2008

Like You've Never Suckled On The Teat Of A Unicorn After Taking The Form Of A Kitten

"Hmmm, I wonder what would happen if I type
unicorns and kittens into Google Images?"

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Raping Of Children Accepted, Encouraged

I think I'll exercise my First Amendment right to say this: Fuck you, Supreme Court. Fuck you, Justice Kennedy. Fuck you, Justice Stevens. Fuck you, Justice Souter. Fuck you, Justice Ginsburg. And fuck you, too, Justice Breyer.

What is wrong with these people? In case you're unaware, the geniuses of the Supreme Court ruled yesterday that the death penalty is unconstitutional as punishment for the rape of a child. Now I consider myself to be quite liberal (need I remind you that I voted for Obama, the African-American candidate?), but supporting the rights of child rapists is a wee bit too enlightened for me. I guess I'm not so liberal, after all.

Let's talk for a moment about the wonderful man they deemed worthy to live. Good ol' Patrick Kennedy from Louisiana (not to be confused with coke and OxyContin addict, Rep. Patrick Kennedy, D–R.I.). Ah, those crazy good ol' boys—who knows what wacky shenanigans they'll get into next? In 2003, Patrick here was convicted and sentenced to death for raping his 8-year-old stepdaughter—that's right, his 8-year-old stepdaughter—whose injuries were severe enough to require emergency surgery.

What's the big deal? pretty much sums up the Supreme Court's decision. I mean, in the grand scheme of things, it's not that bad, right? Justice Kennedy's written opinion says that rape and other crimes "may be as devastating in their harm, but in terms of moral depravity and of the injury to the person and to the public they cannot be compared to murder in their severity and irrevocability."

Okay, here's where I make my most brilliant and irrefutable point. Admit it: At one time or another, you’ve probably felt like you’ve wanted to kill someone, right? Everyone has. Now, on the flip side, have you ever felt like, “Hey, I really want to rape a kid”? I’m guessing no. Let me elaborate. Say someone were to—oh, I don’t know—rape my child, I would kill that person. And I'm fairly certain that many, many people would understand my actions, even defend them. However, there is not a single sane, non-child raping person in the world who would understand the actions and rationale of said child rapist. Thus, in terms of "moral depravity," I think it's pretty clear that child rape is worse than murder.

Justice Kennedy also wrote that the flow of death penalty cases for child rape could overwhelm the country’s criminal justice system. He noted there were 5,702 reported rapes of children under the age of 12 in 2005. (5,702!) You imbecilic, stupid, stupid man. Maybe if there was a suitable deterrent—oh, say, death—these deviants would be more inclined to stop raping kids.

Boy, this blog has taken quite a political turn this week. My apologies. Don't worry—more Furry Fucking posts coming soon!

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Whiteface: The New Blackface?

I like Obama. I voted for him in the primary. And, aside from one teensy quibble, I really like this poster. Very graphic. Really stands out amongst other campaign posters.

But, when I first saw it back in the fall, I thought two things:
(1) No way can that be a real poster... and (2) How is painting an African-American presidential candidate's face white considered "progress"?

More like racist, no?

And while I'm sure that wasn't the artist's intention, how could he have not seen this? More importantly, why did he have to hear about it from a guy who writes about big bushes and Furries?

Friday, June 20, 2008

The Filth & The Furry, Part Deux

A clarification on my earlier post. Apparently, there are some Furries who do not engage in sexual activity with each other. They dress up in these animal costumes because they believe they relate better to animals than humans.

Okay, let me just say it: That is way more fucked up.

Dressing up in animal costumes and fucking each other? I totally get that. You don't have to explain another word to me. Been there. But, dressing up in animal costumes because you feel it better represents your true self, with no intention whatsoever of getting laid? That is some sick, deviant shit. Stay the fuck away from me, sociopath.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Indiana Jones And The Scathing Film Review

Before I begin, a question: What in God's name happened to George Lucas? This guy possessed one of the greatest imaginations of our time. After all, this is the man who gave us Chewbacca—Chewbacca, for chrissakes!—and now he couldn't write a story to save his life. And that would be fine, if he didn't insist on releasing his shitty films into the marketplace. I find it hard to believe that the current George Lucas is the same person who gave us Star Wars and Raiders of the Lost Ark. It seems an impossibility to me.

Thus, it should come as no surprise when I tell you that Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is an appallingly bad film. This was not a franchise that needed to be restarted. The funny thing is, apparently all three parties (Lucas, Spielberg, Ford) had to agree on a script before even considering taking on Indy 4. That's why it's been 19 years since the last film. And—oh my fucking lord—this is what they agreed on? This is what made them say, "Even though Harrison Ford's 65 years old, let's do another one"? When the prospects of Indy 4 first came up a few years ago, Ford's age was never an issue for me—provided the filmmakers acknowledged that Indy was no longer a young man. Or middle-aged man, for that matter. Of course, they've failed to do that. Sure, there's a joke here and there, but Indy's advanced age doesn't seem to hinder him one bit. I mean, he was more creaky and cranky in Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Is that the fault of the script? Certainly, but every aspect of this film is awful—script, effects, acting/direction (Spielberg to Karen Allen: "Just smile and say, 'Innndeeeeeeeeeee...' like you did in the first film.") and wardrobe. Yes, wardrobe. I know it seems like a silly thing to focus on, but once you see the film you'll understand. Indy's clothes (including his overly formal pleated khakis, which look like a pair of Dockers) are spotless throughout the movie. I'm talking fresh from the dry cleaner. No dirt, no wrinkles, no tears. (Just like Dockers!) The same can be said for the wardrobe of the entire cast. Collectively, they crawled through catacombs, sank in quicksand, were attacked by killer ants, and rode an amphibious vehicle over three enormous waterfalls—and yet through it all, they look fresh as daisies. Same with the hair and makeup of the two leading ladies, Karen Allen and Cate Blanchett. When Indy first finds Marion—held captive in the middle of the South American jungle—she looks like she just stepped out of an L.L. Bean catalog.

Still, I probably could've gotten past the wardrobe had the hopeless dialog not hurt my ears so much. ("Ow! My freakin' ears!") I've read recipes that were written better. Throughout the film, Indy solves riddle after riddle within seconds. One more ridiculous than the next. We don't even question his solutions because the riddles are so laughable to begin with. Speaking of laughable, the sequence in Indy's Connecticut home is ludicrous. Indy's packing for a trip (just like Raiders!). Indy's talking to an effeminate, booze-sipping British dean (just like Raiders!). Indy says spooky things as spooky music plays in the background (just like Raiders!). When Indy tells the dean he's going after some long-lost ancient city, he just happens to have a book featuring said city on the bookshelf behind him. And, in one of the most clumsy bits of filmmaking I've yet to see, Indy talks wistfully of lost friends and relatives as maudlin music kicks in and the camera pans over to two framed photos on his desk, one of Sean Connery and the other of Denholm Elliott (who portrayed effeminate British dean, Marcus Brody, in the original films). I mean, who doesn't have a framed photo of their deceased boss on their desk? Oh, and I'd be willing to bet the photos are actually screen shots from the original films. Talk about phoning it in.

Yet, my greatest problem with Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull no doubt lies with the premise of the film itself. Rumor has it, George Lucas proposed an idea years ago entitled Indiana Jones and the Saucer Men from Mars. At the time, it seemed everyone had the good sense not to pursue such an ill-advised idea. Sadly, that turned out not to be the case. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is Indiana Jones and the Saucer Men from Mars (the only title that may possibly be worse than the one they settled on). This is not an Indy film, it's an alien film. And a terrible one at that. What were they thinking? The whole allure of Raiders and Indy was that it was not Star Wars (not that we disliked Star Wars) or Star Trek or Battlestar Galactica or Alien. The 80s were overloaded with sci-fi films. We loved Indy because he and the films were different. It was cool that it took place in 1936 and had nothing to do with spaceships (we had Star Wars for that). Our generation had never seen any of that stuff.

So, expectedly, as a result, the whole film feels horribly off. Spielberg really should've watched the original three films to help recapture their feel. This felt nothing like them. More like a bad imitation. Or, worse, a bad PSone-era videogame. The original films were fun. There is no sense of fun here whatsoever. Particularly in the film's opening—traditionally one of the most enjoyable parts of the original films. I couldn't wait to see how they'd segue from the Paramount logo... A Mayan temple perhaps? A volcano? An iceberg? Nope. How about...a groundhog mound? Seriously. Are you fucking kidding me? I waited 19 years for something that looked like it was shot for Caddyshack? Wow. Talk about immediately setting the wrong tone. The groundhog was then followed by the lamest, most uneventful, irrelevant car race you've ever seen. It felt like an outtake form Lucas's American Graffiti. I've no idea what it was doing in this film. Did I mention the chase doesn't feature Indy or any main players at all? Yeah, that's a great way to start the first Indy film since 1989. In fact, Indy doesn't show up for another 10 minutes or so—arriving in the most lackluster, anticlimactic entrance you're likely to see this year. His first underwhelming line, alluding to his captors, is simply, "Russians..." That's it. Why not, "Russians. I hate these guys..."? A (somewhat) funny nod to his line from Last Crusade, "Nazis. I hate these guys..."

I could go on for another hundred pages. Other major gaffes include (1) an absurd bit involving magnetic gun powder, (2) the fact that the crystal skull itself looks like a cheap plastic toy from China, and (3) Indy believing Mac (Ray Winstone) when—after betraying him earlier and nearly getting him killed—he tells him he's a double agent. Indy seems like a pretty sharp guy in these films (remember all those riddles he solved?); I have a hard time believing he would fall for that. It's insulting. Oh, and I haven't even touched upon Shia LaBeouf. He's actually not too bad. His character, Mutt, however, is just awful. He's supposed to be like Brando in The Wild One or something, I guess. Right. At the end of the film, Indy asks him to stick around and he says, vulnerably, "Like when you didn't stick around, dad?" Indy smirks and then everyone laughs. Ha! Nothing's funnier than child abandonment! Mutt also swings from vines, alongside monkees, like Tarzan during a lengthy sequence. I'm not kidding. It might be the dumbest sequence in an incredibly dumb film. You just know Lucas said, "Hey, wouldn't it be cool if..." and no one had the balls to speak up. Or maybe none of the parties involved cared at that point. The terrible effects in that scene are also representative of the film as a whole. Horrible, horrible CGI. Abysmal. I read something comparing the effects to those of The Mummy films. Spot on. In fact, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is more like The Mummy meets The DaVinci Code than Raiders of the Lost Ark. Lazy, lazy, lazy filmmaking. In fact, it's filmmaking at its absolute worst. A completely unnecessary film. That's why I'm giving it an A–. Oh, did I say A–? I meant, F. As in F-uck me for wasting two hours watching it.

Hate To Break It To You, But Your Grandmother Used To Blow Your Grandfather

And probably a bunch of other guys along the way. Now, before you get all upset, I'm not saying your grandmother was a whore. No, quite the contrary. I'm merely pointing out that your grandma was just a regular girl. Slurping every cock that came her way. Everyone thinks all grandmas are so cute and sweet, all tea cups and doilies—and they are—but once they were young and they were blowing guys left and right. Your grandma, my grandma, all grandmas.

And, lest you think grandpas are all baseball gloves and apple pie, think of all the sick shit you've done. Now picture yourself 50 years from now, you filthy old disgusting pervert.

Monday, June 16, 2008

Am I The Only One Who Thinks This Guy Looks Like An SS Officer?

Thank you for flying Luftwaffe! Sieg Heil!

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Urinating On Children Accepted, Encouraged

Please. Like you've never videotaped yourself urinating on a 13-year old African-American girl in a Chicago-area hotel room before embarking on a sold-out, worldwide R&B tour?

Friday, June 13, 2008

Furries Have Got The World Figured Out

Ah, Furries...

Please. Like you've never purchased a plush cartoon animal costume over the Internet, flown to Pittsburgh, taken a cab to the Downtown Sheraton Resort & Convention Center, downed a dozen Kamikazees, and fucked someone wearing a blue Smurfette costume?

No, thank you, weird freak in fox costume and kilt.

I honestly don't even know where to begin with this photo...

"10 is the Dench anniversary, after all..."

This quote was uttered by a friend of mine after I told him I was sending him the following gift to honor our tenth year of friendship:

Happy Dench Anniversary!

Monday, June 9, 2008

Losing My Appetite For Apatow

Let me first state that, for the most part, I'm a big fan of Judd Apatow. Freaks and Geeks and Undeclared are two of my all-time favorite shows. Great casting, performances and writing in both. Not to mention some of the funniest goddamn scenes you'll ever see. The same can also be said about The 40-Year Old Virgin, Knocked Up and Superbad (though, the genius of Michael Cera cannot be underestimated—for further proof, check out

It was after the success of the last film that things got a little funny. Or rather, unfunny. Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story. Drillbit Taylor. Forgetting Sarah Marshall. You Don't Mess with the Zohan. Is there anything this guy doesn't put his name on? I heard that was even a piece of Seth Rogen's shit floating in a Malibu toilet with "Co-Produced by Judd Apatow" stamped on it.

Now, I have to admit I have not seen all of these films. (And, yes, that probably makes some of these comments less than fair. Boo-fucking-hoo.) But, I've seen enough to know Mr. Apatow clearly does not have the golden touch Hollywood—and he, himself—thinks he has. Let's start with Walk Hard. Don't you get the feeling someone told John C. Reilly how funny he was sometime last year and now he's bending over backwards to release as much comedy into the world as possible? He's all over the web being unfunny, because he seems to think we think he's funny. His next film, Step Brothers, produced by—big surprise—Judd Apatow, seems to further prove this. It features another once-untouchable comedian losing his relevance, Will Ferrell—who surprisingly takes off his shirt in this film and shows off his lumpy, out-of-shape belly. How wacky! We get it, Will. You don't have a great body and you think it's funny to show it off. And, at one point, it was. Just not anymore.

Mr. Apatow's latest release is the reason I decided to write this post. I will not be seeing You Don't Mess with the Zohan (almost as bad a title as the new Indiana Jones film). Not because its posters prominently feature Adam Sandler's sack in a pair of denim shorts. No, I won't see it because it doesn't look funny. Not one bit. Nor does Pineapple Express. (Is this film even supposed to be funny? Or is Apatow now at the point in his career where he wants to be known as an "auteur"?) Drillbit Taylor did not look even remotely funny (nothing says funny like a comedy starring a guy who tried to kill himself). Forgettable Sarah Marshall—excuse me—Forgetting Sarah Marshall (now that's comedy!) looked funny, but, on the whole, was not. At least not the kind of funny that stays with after you leave the theater (like Borat or Superbad or The Accused). And talk about trying too hard (unlike my Accused joke)—ooooooooooooh, I'm edgy because I show my cock a hundred times in this film! Now, I've read some reviews that applauded the star and writer, Jason Segel, for being so willing to humiliate himself on camera. I took it more as creepy and disturbing. He's writing and starring in a comedy aimed primarily at dudes, so why again is he so eager to show us his junk? (God, I love using that term.) I also had trouble with his whole "Dracula Puppet Musical." I take it the filmmakers never watched Sesame Street growing up, because the vampire puppet sure looked a lot like The Count. Take that, Apatow!

Now all that being said, I do generally like Judd Apatow's work. He just needs to be a bit more selective, don't you think? It wasn't a problem before he became a brand name, because only his best stuff made it through the system—the stuff that you could tell he personally related to. Time to get back to that, Judd. And please don't act so surprised. Everyone knows that once you start writing dialog for Rob Schneider ("Salim" in You Don't Mess with the Zohan), it's time for an intervention.

Saturday, June 7, 2008

Two Horseshoe Crabs Fucking

Wellfleet, MA 6/3/08