Thursday, November 27, 2008

15 Things Johnny Is Thankful For

Cheez-Its (America's #1 cheese-flavored snack cracker)

Johnny's New Favorite Drink—Red Bull, Jameson's, ground-up Viagra and the tears of a homeless man—also known as "A Wailing Leprechaun"

The recent descent of my Hitler-esque undescended testicle (you have the hands of an artist, Dr. Silvershein...)

A Colbert Christmas: The Greatest Gift Of All!

Mega Superior Gold's successful gender reassignment surgery—he/she is much happier

That George Lucas isn't making any more Star Wars films

The creepy old guy in the park who repeatedly asks me, "Would you like to wrestle in the grass?" (Duh. Of course.)

Paul Rudd (boing!)

My magnificent cock and, to a slightly lesser degree, my exquisite balls

Chocolate Peanut Butter Haagen Dazs (the ice cream equivalent of bathing in the light of God while an angel suckles on your balls)

That I no longer have to gently caress the rim of my asshole every morning with Preparation H to help alleviate the enormous discomfort caused by a hemorrhoid the size of a kiwi

For, which informed me that Thanksgiving is an American Christian tradition dating back to the year 1623, when Plymouth Plantation Governor William Bradford proclaimed: "All ye Pilgrims with your wives and little ones, do gather at the Meeting House, on the hill... there to listen to the pastor, and render Thanksgiving to the Almighty God for all His blessings." In your face, Jews, Muslims and Hindus!

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Funniest Goddamn Movie Of The Year

Believe me, I'm as surprised as you are. Role Models caught me completely off guard. It's got everything you could want in a movie: Paul Rudd—perhaps the most underrated comic actor out there; Stiffler (!), for crying out loud; McLovin from Superbad as a Dungeons & Dragons-obsessed, cape-wearing geek; a 10-year old, foul-mouthed black kid who repeatedly calls Paul Rudd Ben Affleck; and the tall electronics store manager chick from The 40 Year-Old Virgin, spouting unbelievably funny lines like, "I used to suck his cock for drugs." Plus, it culminates with the four guys participating in a live-action role-playing battle royale dressed in Kiss gear, as members of the newly-founded nation of Kiss-My-Anthia. What's that? You're going to see the film right this very second and will read the rest of my review after you return? That's fine. Do yourself a favor: Forgo the soda fountain and try a White Cherry Icee—you'll find it incredibly refreshing.

Welcome back. How'd you like the Icee? Incredibly refreshing, right? Now, I don't know if Role Models was under promoted or what, but this is a film people should be talking more about. It's funnier than anything that's come out of the overextended Apatow factory this year (You Don't Mess With The Zohan, Forgetting Sarah Marshall). Way funnier. And, dare I say, it's funnier than Tropic Thunder, which Johnny loved.

My hopes were low because while I dug the character of Stiffler (who didn't?), I honestly can't recall anything else funny that Seann William Scott's been in. Plus, he spells Sean with two n's and, for some bizarre reason, that upsets me. (Though, not as much as the spelling of Cleveland Indians shortstop, Jhonny Peralta. Spanish Jhonny don't like.) I also wasn't too crazy about the director, David Wain—formerly of the MTV sketch comedy show, The State (which I thought was hysterical when it aired back in the mid-90s; not sure how it holds up) and recently of shittiness like the Comedy Central sketch comedy show, Stella, and a lame film entitled The Ten. (Of all the dumb improv group names—"The Groundlings," "The Upright Citizens Brigade," um, "The State," and this doozy from when I was in college, "My Mother's Fleabag"—"Stella" has got to be the dumbest. No matter how funny and clever and subversive its founding members think the name is, it's pointless and annoying if no one outside your little group knows what it means. Fuck, maybe Dumb Improv Group Names deserves its very own post.) In hindsight, I should've cut him some slack, because he also directed the hilarious Wet Hot American Summer and was wise enough to surround himself with other cast members of The State as co-stars and co-writers of Role Models. That sageness was also demonstrated in who he chose not to hire: former State cast member Michael Ian Black—the unfunny talking head who always seems to be on VH1's Biggest Douchebags Ever, I mean, Best Week Ever, when he's not shilling lemon-lime soft drinks. Still, the main reason I should've cut David Wain some slack is because he put Paul Rudd in a leading role. Did I mention how much of a comedic boner this guy gives me? I can barely type right now my laptop is sticking up at such an angle.

So I've talked about pretty much everything except the film itself. Which is too bad because I don't feel like writing anymore. The premise is simple: Paul Rudd and Seann William Scott work for Minotaur, a Red Bull-type beverage company, traveling from high school to high school giving anti-drug talks ("Say yes to Minotaur and no to drugs!"), during which Stiffler is dressed as, yep, a minotaur. They lose their shit one day and are sentenced to 150 hours community service, reluctantly becoming big brothers to McLovin and the black kid (sounds like a 70s TV show, "Next week on McLovin And The Black Kid..."). The tall chick, Jane Lynch, as a recovering cocaine addict, runs the Big Brother center. Needless to say, while what takes place is not entirely unexpected, the laughs are. So, yes, maybe Role Models sticks to convention, but so the fuck what? The writing and performances are so sharp, you won't care. Plus, no one goes to a comedy expecting—and hoping—to see a reinvention of the genre. No, you go to laugh. And, trust me, this movie will make you laugh. Perhaps no scene more so than when McLovin urges Paul Rudd—leaving a voicemail to his estranged girlfriend (Elizabeth Banks, who thankfully takes zero shits in this film)—to say he misses her "whispering eye." Which he then gleefully tells him means "vagina" in the world of D&D. Genius.

Friday, November 21, 2008

Too Awesome To Ignore

Oh, Sarah, how I'll miss your comely lips and the incendiary, ignorant
words that come out of them while—figuratively speaking—turkeys
are slaughtered behind you.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Those Knuckleheads Are At It Again!

The wacky jihadis are back! In a recently-released propaganda video, Al Qaeda's top deputy, Ayman al-Zawahri, labeled President-elect Obama a "house Negro" who would continue President Bush's "campaign against Islam."

Those nuts! I mean, talk about a backhanded compliment... Tell us how you really feel! Who knows what crazy shenanigans and hijacks, I mean hijinks, they have planned!?!

No, this post was worth getting Johnny on the FBI's watchlist.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Bigamists Help Preserve Sanctity Of Marriage


Let me get this, ahem, straight: If I'm a Mormon guy, I can marry as many of

my pre-teen cousins as I like, as long as they're not dudes? And I can marry

my half-sisters, too? Sign me up!

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Munch Away, Ladies!

Barbara and Robin Levine-Ritterman leaving New Haven City Hall yesterday with the first marriage license issued to a same-sex couple in Connecticut. Yummy!

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Zack And Miri Make A Really Shitty Movie

I don't care for Kevin Smith. Contrary to popular belief, this guy's about as edgy as an episode of Two And A Half Men. Accordingly, I entered the theater to see his latest opus, Zack And Miri Make A Porno, with impossibly low expectations.

Which were more than met.

Let me back up. Why would Johnny go see a film by a filmmaker he so dislikes? Johnny had an afternoon to kill, and it was either Zack And Miri or High School Musical 3. And, let's face it, it'd be hard to justify seeing HSM3 a fourth time. Plus, this film stars super-hot Elizabeth Banks and has the word porno in its title.

There's no lack of reasons why this movie doesn't work. Too predictable. Too safe. Trying oh-so-hard to be edgy ("Look at me! I just put the word 'taint' in my script!"). But, it really comes down to what every movie's success or failure comes down to: writing and acting. Lazy is too kind a word to describe the script—the two adult films within the film are titled Star Whores and Swallow My Cockuccino. Brilliant. Writer-Director Smith must've spent a whole 10 seconds coming up with those. And the performances are, for the most part, pitiful. I expected so much more from real-life porn actress, Katie Morgan, star of Handjobs 9, Interracial Cum Junkies 3 and I Cream On Jeannie (now that's a porn title!).

But, the main reason Zack And Miri doesn't work, the main reason it's such a piece of shit is due actual piece of shit that Zack (Seth Rogen, displaying incredible range, playing another version of...himself) finds floating in the toilet.

(SPOILER ALERT!) Elizabeth Banks's shit, to be precise. And since I don't think there's any other way to say it, I'm just going to spit it out: Elizabeth Banks takes three shits in this film.


What the fuck?

Just when this country was starting to get back on its feet, when hope was renewed, when anything seemed possible, Kevin Smith releases a film featuring mega-hottie Elizabeth Banks taking not one, not two, but three (!) shits. This is not why I go to the movies. If I wanted to see hot girls shit in a movie, I'd rent Hot Girls Shit: The Movie. Again.

Movies are about fantasy and escape, right? In my fantasy world, women do not defecate. In fact, each of their assholes has been cauterized and covered with a tiny gold star. Miladies are wonderful, delicate flowers who do not shit.

Apparently, Kevin Smith and I have differing views regarding film's role in today's society. His film opens and closes with Elizabeth Banks on the toilet, evacuating her bowels, sandwiched around a third shit. Now, I'm no fool. I know what the auteur in Smith is attempting. "I write about real life, man! And in real life, women shit! Every fucking day. I'm just telling it like it is. I'm Kevin Smith and women shit in my movies. A lot."

Once, maybe, I can sort of get past. But twice? Three times milady?

C'mon, dude.

And that's not counting the aforesaid Katie Morgan, star of Hot Blondes Rock My Cock, Cunt Hunt and Black Dicks In White Chicks 3 (not as good as the original, but better than the second), shitting on a dude's face. Since it's the face of one of the obnoxious d-bags from Clerks, it's actually okay. Still, that's four female shits in the film. Which has to be some sort of record, provided we're not counting Four Female Shits: The Film.

Of course, Kevin Smith isn't the first director to showcase his hot female lead defecating. I went blind for two full days after seeing Demi Moore on the toilet in Indecent Proposal. Remember that scene? Woody Harrelson casually talking to DM making a BM, like they're sitting on the porch sipping lemonade or something. And let's not forget Sandra Bullock getting a bout of uncontrollable diarrhea in Two Weeks Notice—a film that gave me diarrhea of the eyes. (Thank you, Bob Odenkirk!)

Hollywood, take note: No one wants to see this. Get your—you guessed it—shit together and make the picture shows safe again for Johnny.

Thank you and God bless America.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

In Your Face, Whitey!


America: Not As Racist As We Thought


Once You Vote Black, You Never Go Back


Patrick Dempsey Reveals Secret To His Dreamy Hair

Want the same wavy, stylishly-ruffled look that McDreamy sports on "Grey's Anatomy"? Well, guys, I'm happy to tell you it's a lot easier than you think. First, start with a bit of length over the forehead to allow for lift when dry. Next, cut to fit the size and shape of your head. Then simply work a Gel Mousse or Styling Cream Gelle through wet or dry hair for shine, style support and frizz control. Or, if your hair is curly, begin by combing a puff of Straightening Balm through damp hair and blow dry to relax curl for a wavy effect. For a wet look, comb or brush a puff of Foaming Pomade or Styling Cream through hair. Voila! Now you're ready for Seattle Grace Hospital. Paging Dr. Hottie!

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Rock The Vote, Yo!

As a sign of both my increasing influence and the looming apocalypse, the fine folks at Rock The Vote have asked Johnny to urge his readers to get out there today and, well, vote—in rocking fashion, if possible.

So what are you waiting for? Get dressed and head to your nearest polling place. Unless you're planning on voting for Senator McCain. Then don't bother. Go listen to a Hank Williams, Jr. record or kill some puppies. Or kill Hank Williams, Jr.'s puppies. Do whatever it is you people normally do.

Just know that a vote for McCain is a vote for no more Johnny. Not because I'll voluntarily leave the country or kill myself like I hilariously threatened yesterday. No, it's because I fear that due to my criticism of Senator McCain and his hot, albeit cunty, imbecilic running mate ("Hasta La Vulva," "Mother. Fucker," "Is Sarah Palin The Antichrist?"), McCain's first act as president might very well be to deport dear old Johnny.

And we can't have that, can we? So rise up, people! Be heard! Make a difference! Vote for the black guy!

Monday, November 3, 2008

Take My Life, Please

From the front page of today's New York Times:

PETERBOROUGH, N.H. — Somewhere in a corner of northeastern Ohio, just five days before the presidential election that more than a few pundits have declared he will lose, Senator John McCain sat in the back of his campaign bus telling his favorite Henny Youngman jokes. No one laughed harder than he did. “It was one after another — ‘Take my wife, please,’ ” said Senator Lindsey Graham, a South Carolina Republican and one of Mr. McCain’s closest friends.


That's even scarier than my Halloween story. (Fuck you again, Dad.)

If Johnny wakes up Wednesday and finds out this tottering old man has been elected president, Canada won't cut it. (Too many Canadians.)

No, it's goodbye world for Johnny.

Hasta luego, Johnnyheads.