It Seemed Like a Fairy Tale

There was a time once, it feels so long ago now, when Lindsay Lohan was slowly devolving from a bright-eyed young actress into a major multimedia meltdown. She had just released her sonic assault on the American auditory nerve and rather than focus on the acting that made her famous in the first place, Lindsay decided that she needed to hang out with some hotel heiress and her bitchy group of friends. It was also about this time that the potential for gossipy snark on the internet was just being discovered. It was a match made in heaven.

Now, I may have some of the specifics wrong, but it was about the time that Lindsay started acting like a sweaty coke-whore that her parents' special brand of crazy started to come out, introducing us to Dina and Michael's scary Day of the Dead/Zombie apocalypse visages; their love of attention only narrowly outpacing their love for drugs and booze. It begged the question, what kind of chance at any sort of normalcy did young Lindsay and her siblings have?

Fast forward a couple of years. Lindsay is on the verge of the double whammy known as bankruptcy and jail and as a last ditch attempt to cash in on her rapidly vanishing looks and name, agrees to get naked for Playboy for a shit-pot full of money. The same week this is announced, her father is arrested not once, but twice. The first time for allegedly getting pissed that his 'girlfriend' (a piece of shit in her own right) won't suck his dick, the second time for getting out of jail, getting high and trying to make nice with the same lady. Now, I know that I cannot make this claim with any sort of scientific certainty, but do you think that these two news items might be related?

All I know is that it is even money in Vegas that Lindsay is going to be in some sort of gonzo-porn with Taylor Armstrong and Michael Sorrentino right before their 2013 triple suicide overdose.

Ben Affleck? Really?

No, this isn't a case of the curious hairline of a hack actor, which I guess could be a running theme had I the time and inclination to write about such trivialities. This is my protest post against Ben Affleck the auteur who 'stretched' into a director, adapting Dennis Lehane's Gone Baby Gone and Chuck Hogan's The Town into movies.

Affleck has done yeoman's work evoking credible acting performances from himself and his brother, in small stories set in the wicked mean streets of Boston. His ability to take on larger projects is still to be determined, but that hasn't stopped anyone from telling Ben that he should take on a modern classic like Stephen King's The Stand. The Stand is a huge book, a daunting narrative that has thus far defied decent adaptation. I just hope that Ben's ready for the heat as I would hate to see another Gigli moment...

Shit That I Dig (October 22)

Now, you are asking yourself if I really needed to emphasize that I think Salma Hayek has a great rack? The answer is no, I think my thoughts on that are well known. No, the subject of today's post is actually the writing of a gentleman named Don Winslow. If you've ever seen pictures of Don Winslow, you will understand why I didn't lead with a picture of him. The picture of Salma will become clear later...

I have read two books written by Winslow in the past month. They are two of the most visceral books I've read in several years. Winslow's writing focuses on crime and criminals, but unlike many authors, Winslow is not afraid to provide an unflinching look into the world where these criminals exist. It is often horrifying to read, but the storylines are compelling, if a bit familiar.

The biggest problem with reading genre literature is that after a while the conventions of the particular genre become stale and annoying. I know that with few exceptions, my ability to read fantasy has been gone for years. I sometimes fear that the same thing his happening with crime/mystery/thriller novels. Winslow's books have acted like a kind of buffer for that process. His writing in the novel Savages, which is being adapted into a movie (with Salma Hayek playing a drug kingpin), borders on the brink of ridiculousness, but he manages to maintain the tone of an almost fever-dream, as if the writer, along with most of the main characters, was viewing the events of the novel in some sort of marijuana haze.

I usually love to go out and get more of an author's work as soon as I finish something that I've liked and I did that with Winslow, reading the novel The Power of the Dog. It was more conventional than Savages, but it was still a great read. I'm holding off on buying more Winslow, at least until I clear out the reading queue, but I'm already plotting out which of his books is next. The very definition of shit that I dig.

Is It Time?

For an intervention? Or at least someone to tell this young lady to get her shit together? It may come as a surprise to many that I am a Christina fan. She's got great pipes and she was the one genuinely talented girl to come out of that Britney/Christina/Jessica/etc... school. She is great, but she has lost her way. I feel bad for all of these young pop stars who have to grow up in the public eye because their parents have shitty lives and want to live through their kids, but as sad and predictible as Britney's meltdown was, I find this somehow more sad. When the pictures from Michael Jackson's tribute show came out, my first reaction was that they had hired Roseanne Barr to put a wig on. I was stunned when I read the name on the caption. It is too bad. Here's to hoping she recognizes the opportunity she has before she loses it all.

Shit That I Dig (October 11)

So apparently, I am a person that hops on trends and kickass television shows four or five years late. I heard the buzz on Lost, checked out an episode and dismissed it. Four years later, I'm in...and a huge Lost nerd.

Similarly, I heard the buzz on Mad Men when it debuted. I checked out an episode. Didn't work for me. Fast forward four years, I'm browsing my Netflix queue, and what do you know, AMC has streamed Mad Men for the masses. I check out episode one and the next thing I know I'm spending my weekend just killing episodes like a gamer goes through Mountain Dew. I cannot explain it, but damn if this isn't one of the most amazing television series I've ever seen. The writing, acting, hell everthing about this show is just quality and compelling. Just watching it made me want to drink scotch and cheat on my wife (I have abstained from both, but, you know...). So that's why Don Draper is on my blog and heaven help us, I just ordered up HBO again, specifically to utilize HBO Go, to get The Wire and Game of Thrones. So watch out...

Why I Still Hate Al Davis

I recently made a comment on Facebook about how I have never forgiven Al Davis and that I hope he rots in some sort of state of eternal punishment. I just wanted to take some space to explain myself. I grew up in northern California as an Oakland Raider fan. I LOVED the Raiders. My parents raised me right: I was taught to love the Raiders, like the 49ers, and to hate the Steelers, Cowboys, and all things Los Angeles. It was a simpler time. The Raiders in the 70's were colorful, goofy, and more than slightly dangerous. They wore the silver and black and were proud of their outlaw image. To a child growing up during this time there was the Raiders and there was Darth Vader... both were badass (and don't get me started about how Darth Vader was going to be redemptive or save the force or whatever... Darth Vader was a badass who snapped necks and could choke your ass out just by wanting it to happen. That was some cool shit). My parents like to tell the story about how I used to cry when the Raiders lost. Like that shit was funny... Losing sucks.

In 1981 Al Davis decided to tell the Bay Area to fuck itself and moved to Los Angeles. This was in spite of the fact that the Raiders had (and still have) a rabid following that had an unprecedented sell-out streak and the love of the entire area. All of those 49ers fans in the 80's? Most of them were fans by default, because Al Davis was an asshole. L.A. of all places? By the time of the Raiders move I was old enough to understand what was going on (and before you ask, no I didn't cry), so I decided at that moment that the Raiders and Al Davis were dead to me.

He never made a pretense of anything other than what his move to L.A. was, a cash grab. And since he was so unapologetic about his being a jerk, I have been and will continue to be unapologetic about my hatred of Al Davis and his stupid pompadour and sweat suit. So I'll say it one more time: I hate you Al, I hope you rot away in some special level of hell.

I feel better now...

Post-Season Baseball

Is there anything more exciting? I'd argue that there isn't. I know that baseball gets a bad rap for being boring and slow, but you know what? There were three game five elimination games this week, all of them decided by 1 run. I'm still pissed about the stupid Brewers beating my Diamondbacks yesterday, but I'll get over it eventually.

I'm torn about who to root for out of the four teams remaining. Normally I'd root for the Brewers due to the fact that they've never won a World Series and they have Craig Counsell on their team, but their behavior in the NLDS was too much. Screw them, but I also cannot root for the Cardinals either because I want Tony LaRussa to go the hell away. So I guess I'll be rooting for the AL this year, which is painful. But at least the Tigers and Rangers are good stories... and the NFL is just killing it right now.

Dammit!

I cannot believe how we've missed on so many... Al Davis was a visionary, back in the late sixties and early seventies he was the perfect owner: he knew the game inside and out and was willing to take chances on people who didn't fit in elsewhere. His Raiders were a band of thugs before it became colorful. They were dangerous, but that was 40 plus years ago, the Raiders haven't been relevant in years (although they are finally making strides) and Al had become a national joke. Too bad he was such an asshole, or you'd see some kind of Steinbrenner-esque outpouring of fake love and respect this week. As it is, people will express surprise, because deals with the devil usually pay off better than looking like the Cryptkeeper.

iCoffin

I can only guess at what hi-tech gadgets Steve created to keep him entertained during the long dirt nap. He was a visionary, a legendary asshole, and one of the most influential people of the last 40 years. It was a hell of a run, I hope he finds peace. I cannot believe that no one took him in the pool...

Posted from my iPhone

I never knew...

that sitting around doing smack made you look like this.... Maybe Axl should mix in a little Skinny Bitch margarita in with the Night Train. Drop some lbs...

Celebrity Shut Up Fool!

Two in one day? How 'bout three?

Amanda Seyfried or whatever the hell her name is apparently told some Euro rag that she is in therapy to calm her panic attacks brought on by the pressures of fame. Shut the hell up you alien-eyed freak. Here is the simple solution to your problem: quit making movies and television. If acting is your calling, go do Broadway or some other stage work, you can make your living in any number of ways. Once your fame is gone, you'll be fine. Trust me, with as fickle as our culture is, it won't be more than a month or two before you're a footnote in Lindsay Lohan's obituary. I did like your work on Mean Girls though, I'm intrigued by the idea of your weather prognosticating breasts....

Finally, Johnny Depp is on record as equating photo shoots with rape. Really Mr. Sparrow? All reports are that you are a great guy and I'm sure getting your picture taken while a team of assistants caters to your every whim is tiring, but rape? How 'bout you take that civic conciousness that you're famous for and go work with rape victims for a couple of days, it might give you just a bit of perspective. Dick.

I Don't Get It

I generally don't feel sorry for celebrities. They are afforded a lifestyle that anyone on the planet merely dreams of having. As far as I am concerned, they can take the slings and arrows in exchange for their opulent lifestyle. That said, I don't understand the viciousness of the internet when it comes to Jennifer Love Hewitt. I look around and they are on her shit any time she goes out in public.

So what is her sin this week (and damn near anytime her name comes up)? She's not anorexic, she's not 19, and she's not married? I think this is her problem, anyway, I can't see it. Is this the most flattering outfit she could wear? Of course not, but I'd guess that most women would have some issues trying to pull that dress off. Oh well, I'm sure she's drying her tears with towels made of old hundred dollar bills that she didn't feel like spending...

Shut Up Fool! (October 4)

See, I told you I had one coming, I just wasn't sure who I'd be writing about. Today I was going to grouse about Hank Williams and his fuzzy Obama = Hitler analogy, but I found something that irritated me even more than that scar-faced hack. No, today I am going to use former Chicago Bear Dan Hampton as a launching pad for my political diatribe.

Before we get started, let's talk about how fortunate Hampton is to have played for a team that has somehow hoodwinked a generally lazy media into believing that they were one of the greatest teams in NFL history. That shit is just not true in any way shape or form. They had a great running back, great defense, average quarterbacking (I'm being kind here...) and wide receivers that they picked up off of the local community college. Actually, they are exactly like the current day New York Jets, but these guys managed to actually win. Anyway, Hampton's legacy is one of gravy training Buddy Ryan's system, saying stupid shit in the press, and generally acting like a little bitch when people start to question the 85 Bears' greatness. He was a solid d-lineman, but he was never in the class of the greats like Reggie White or even Charles Haley. Honestly, he is Mike Golic if Golic played for the Bears instead of the Eagles.

Anyway, apparently the 85 Bears never actually got to go the the White House due to the fact that the week they were scheduled to go was the same week the space shuttle exploded in 1986. Rather than reschedule, the appearance just kinda faded away. Which is what Dan Hampton should have done. Instead, President Obama has extended an invitation to the 1985 Chicago Bears team to come visit the white house and celebrate the 25th Anniversary of their Super Bowl victory. It should be a pretty cool event. The president is from Chicago and is a big sports fan and the Bears can bask one more time in their collective greatness (the Super Bowl Shuffle notwithstanding). But this isn't going to work for Hampton. According to ESPN, Hampton is gonna pass. Wanna know why?

"It's my own personal choice," Hampton said. "I don't choose to go. No family, no kids. Honey's going to the White House, and you tell your kids and your wife, 'Oh, I'm sorry. You're not invited.'

"Secondly, I'm not a fan of the guy in the White House. And third, it was 25 years ago. Let it go."

Look, I get it if you are bummed that it is a players only invitation, but then we get to the crux of the situation. He's just not a fan of the president. Ahhhh, too bad. I'm glad he's such a principled clear-thinking fellow, this "Danimal." The man is damn lucky to be alive and out of prison with multiple DWI convictions, but he is taking a moral stand against the invite.

I get that it must be a bummer that you cannot take your wife to the White House, it would be an amazing experience, but what really gets me going when dealing with idiots like Hampton or Bocephus is the lack of intelligent conversation regarding the politics of our country. We all just jump on our convenient labels and call each other names instead of actually looking at what the hell is going on. It is just mental laziness. It might actually be enlightening to study up on the issues and when the president goes to shake your hand, try to engage him for a moment, who knows you might even learn something. At the least you go, meet the president, take in the historic sights and sounds, experience what 375,000,000 people could only dream about, and try and be gracious.

I could go on and on (I already have I know...) but Hampton's teammate Steve McMichael gets it right:

"They said, 'Are you going?' Because there are a couple of my teammates that aren't going to make the trip," McMichael told ESPNChicago.com's Jeff Dickerson. "But let me tell you something, I don't care who the president is. I don't care what's going on in the government, if I'm against a war or what. If you are somebody that the White House wants to honor, and you're a citizen of this country, it behooves you to show up and look at it like an honor and a privilege.

"I told them I'm going to have bells on."

In other words, shut up fool!

Sad Props to Sheri Beri....

It's better late than never.... I suppose, but due to our morbid, horrible game Sheri picks up 61 points. She easily vaults into the lead, but K-Rock has some old geezers still holding on, so it could get crazy down the stretch...

Shit That I Dig (October 1)

I know that this place is a malestrom of whining, cynicism, and breasts, but I feel like mixing it up a bit. Starting today will be a regular feature I'm calling Shit That I Dig. It's classy and elegant, just like Snookie and you may never see it again, but I promise I have another Shut Up Fool! post coming soon...

So what do I dig today? Ron Fucking Swanson, that's what. I despised the first several episodes of Parks and Recreation when they aired. It was like the creators took all of the shitty parts of the American version of The Office and made their own show of these disparate parts. I did not like, but then a funny thing happened. The showrunners discovered that they had other people in the cast other than Amy Pohler... And once the focus came off of Leslie and her pit, the show became amazing.

My favorite part of the show has to be Ron Swanson, the woodworking Libertarian who actually runs the Parks Department of Pawnee. There is nothing about Ron that isn't awesome, from his mustache to his desk full of ground chuck. The best part is that each little discover about Ron gets parceled out in a fantastic ensemble cast of characters allows the writers the freedom to keep Swanson as a powerful presence without overwhelming the show, there's never the feel that he's going to become Kramer, if you know what I mean.

I love what this show has become and the idea that a man can deliver lines like "you had me at meat tornado." I just hope their ratings improve so that those crazy kids at Entertainment 720 can figure out their business plan... Speaking of which check out their website at http://entertainment720.com/

Where Is My Stake...

No, I'm not asking because I'm hungry. I really just want to know what needs to be done to finish off the production of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Or should I have phrased that as a question... I'm not sure and I cannot think because of my rage at what has become of this once mighty comedy juggernaut. Actually, what I am enraged at is not the show, which has devolved into a pale, humorless facsimile of itself, but rather with the fact that this show now bores the hell out of me.

It is almost exactly what has happened to The Simpsons now that they have run out of ideas (actually the Simpsons have been out of ideas longer than they had them at this point, but I digress). The show was founded on the idea that these four idiots lead horrible delusional lives and do depraved and selfish things. The best episodes came out of the abyss that was their lives. Episodes about finding a dumpster baby, using their shitty bar to relive their high school experiences, or just clinging to the belief that their dreams of fame or success were still possible for them despite all of the mounting evidence against it ever happening. These were what made the show great, not the current crop of 'hey, let's put the gang in some whacky situation, like the Jersey shore!'

I know I'm flailing against the machine, that they have two more years of production left in them, but I'd rather see the gang go out with a dignity and grace that they have never allowed Dennis, Dee, Charlie, or Mac to ever have.