Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Rich Man Gets His Desserts

Reprinted from Time.com:
On Dec. 5, 1985, Christopher Forbes, vice chairman of Forbes magazine, shelled out $157,000 for a bottle of wine at a Christie's auction in London — still the largest sum on record ever paid for a single bottle. Its body handblown from deep green glass, sealed with a wad of dark wax and inscribed with "Th.J.," the 1787 Château Lafite was thought to come from a collection of wines belonging to Thomas Jefferson. "It's more fun than the opera glasses Lincoln was holding when he was shot," Forbes declared at the time. "And we have those too." Though Jefferson was born on the Virginia frontier, he served as the U.S.'s minister to France in the late 18th century and is regarded as America's first true oenophile. Regardless, the trove of wines the bottle came from, discovered in an old building in Paris, are now almost universally believed to have been fakes. Upon further investigation, it seems that the Founding Father's initials were etched into the bottles using a power tool.
Too bad that asshole didn't use Lincoln's opera glasses to discover he was about to drop $157,000 on a marginally-clever forgery, eh?

Although it probably doesn't matter in the end, since he has been squeezing at least that much money out of the middle class every day of his life and it probably still tasted really good when he opened for his prized pony's fourth birthday party.

The plot thickens:

Remember those two billionaire assholes who fund all the Tea Party bullshit? Well, their brother, Bill, was also taken in by the same scheme.

How thorough were Forbes and Koch, wealthy investors by birthright, at doing their due diligence?
When a cache of more than a dozen bottles engraved 'Th.J.' reportedly came to light in 1985, [German collector Hardy] Rodenstock said they had been found in a walled-up cellar in Paris, where Jefferson served as minister to France. Jefferson, who helped draft America's Declaration of Independence, became the country's third President.

The exact quantity of wine reportedly found, and the precise location of the cache, have never been established. Rodenstock told decanter.com that in 1985 he was told of the find, and flew to Paris to see the bottles, which he was told he must pay cash for. He will not say who called him, and says that he did not go to the actual house.
(courtesy decanter.com)
Sounds like everything checked out fine, there should definitely be no blame placed on the stupid greedy buyers who overpaid for a stupid trophy whose existence nobody could prove. I hope they get their day in court and spend even more money on lawyers.


It is the end of August and I feel thirsty.

So, apparently, does the mewling alleycat outside my window, but unfortunately for me, my thirst is not so easily slaked.

No passing stranger of the opposite sex can solve my hydration problem, even if they wanted to, but here this greedy cat will take all comers and get as much as she wants.

Or maybe my perspective is wrong.

Maybe satisfaction looms in the distance, tantalizingly on her radar but frustratingly never within reach. Maybe she is a tormented soul whose thirst, like mine, is bottomless. Maybe we are two of a kind.

Much like the insatiable central characters in the 1976 Japanese arthouse porno, In the Realm of the Senses, which I watched this evening in (mostly) wide-eyed surprise.

Never in my life have I seen so much penis--and I own one.

Never in my life have I seen two people engage in so much public fornication, to such blase reaction. To say the sex is gratuitous misses the point, but still--it is exhausting to watch.

Here is what Mr. Criterion has to say about the movie, for all you bumpkins out there that ain't never heard of it:

SYNOPSIS: Still censored in its own country, In the Realm of the Senses (Ai no corrida), by Japanese director Nagisa Oshima, remains one of the most controversial films of all time. A graphic portrayal of insatiable sexual desire, Oshima’s film, set in 1936 and based on a true incident, depicts a man and a woman (Tatsuya Fuji and Eiko Matsuda) consumed by a transcendent, destructive love while living in an era of ever escalating imperialism and governmental control. Less a work of pornography than of politics, In the Realm of the Senses is a brave, taboo-breaking milestone.
I wish I could agree with their pornography versus politics angle, but there was so little politics involved in this movie that I was bored stiff. Imagine saying that! I wanted more politics!

What exactly...were the politics? I saw some soldiers march past in one scene, but who knows what that's supposed to mean. What I do know is that the entire movie involves a former prostitute fellating, ravaging, and beating/strangling her master-cum-husband, whom she rapidly turns into her willing sex slave.

I'll put it this way--there is a good reason the narrator feels the need, at movie's end, to reveal the events took place in 1936, because any other movie that took place in Japan in 1936 and even hinted at politics would have found that designation superfluous.

Game, set, match. Verdict: Porno. Sorry Criterion--there was no need to salvage this one.

That being said, if you are in for an initially titillating movie that ultimately makes you never want to have sex again, this 'masterpiece' is for you. Enjoy!


Monday, August 30, 2010

Oh, Chicago--Don't be so lonely!

I know Chicagoans have it rough, what with everybody either dismissing their city as windy/cold or, worse (?), just flying over them all the time, but has it really gotten this bad?

How bad? This bad:

What? Also, what?! This creepy dude wants "a female" to spend a long time describing--in an email--how her hand moves while she eats cereal? How on Earth would this be enjoyable for anybody who isn't certifiably insane? Is this a last cry for help before RickMoranisRulez spikes his own Tab? Or will he choose to go to work one day with a collector's-edition Rick Moranis mask and a pair of over-the-counter machine guns instead?

Chicago must be real lonely right now. If you know somebody in Chicago, please give them a hug so this craziness stops before it spreads to the entire Midwest and the Pervert Monster gets so big it ultimately destroys both dismissive coasts (who are never paying attention) with a careless flailing of a giant-sized arm--as painstakingly described by LonelyGirl69 in a soon-to-be-legendary email blast.


Wednesday, August 25, 2010

What if Spiderman was a chiseled, 35 year-old man with pimples?

Who liked to use his powers to spy on women changing their clothes with the curtains open?

And sometimes had powers he couldn't control...

Especially at night!

Oh, James Cameron--you might have just redeemed yourself for Titanic and Avatar.

Might. I'll let you know for sure once I've had a few years to think about it...


Man, I Hope This Kid Gets Raped in Prison

 (Steven Hirsch/AP)

Although he is being referred to as a man by all the news outlet--and he is certainly old enough for the designation, on a technical level--we all know Michael Enright is little more than a punk kid.

To clarify a bit further, he is an arrogant sissy-punk kid who should be put in a whole and never heard from again.

Who is Michael Enright, you ask?

Ask and ye shall receive (Goodtime 13:46):
James Zaleta, an assistant district attorney, said in court that Mr. Enright hailed a taxi near 24th Street and Second Avenue on Tuesday evening. Mr. Enright asked the taxi driver, who was from Bangladesh, whether he was Muslim, Mr. Zaleta said.
After the driver said he was, Mr. Enright responded with the Arabic greeting, “Assalamu alaikum,” according to the criminal court complaint.
Then Mr. Enright said, “Consider this a checkpoint,” before pulling out a Leatherman utility knife and slashing the taxi driver’s throat, Mr. Zaleta said. The driver turned and Mr. Enright slashed him in his face and forearms, Mr. Zaleta said.
(courtesy NYTimes.com)
Don't worry, Teabaggers--your hero already has some crafty big-city lawyer doing his best to get him free after billing as many hours as possible:

Jason A. Martin, Mr. Enright’s lawyer, said his client lived with his parents and was an honor student at the School of Visual Arts, where he is a senior.

Mr. Enright is a volunteer with Intersections International, a nonprofit that works to promote cross-cultural understanding and has spoken out in favor of the proposed Islamic cultural center near ground zero. Mr. Enright, who shuffled into court with a collared T-shirt, cargo shorts and shackles around his ankles, has also worked with veterans with post-traumatic stress disorder, Mr. Martin said.
“He’s terrified,” Mr. Martin said of his client. “He’s shocked at the allegations. He’s just trying to cope with it right now.”
(also courtesy NYTimes.com)
He's "shocked at the allegations?" He was caught immediately after leaving the cab--it's not like they were going on a description and picked up some random chubby white dude with orange hair who looks permanently scared.

But, more to the point, who the fuck cares that this little prick is an honor student who lives lived with his parents? Why is this a detail anybody needs to know? All we need to know is that he is now living in prison, where he belongs.

And here's to hoping he stays there for a long time and gets treated to a few serious invasions of privacy every day until he learns his lesson the hard way--DON'T FUCK WITH PEOPLE FOR NO REASON.

It's gotta suck to be this guy right now.


Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Further Proof People Will Watch Anything If They Have No Good Choices

The Expendables takes the crown two weeks in a row, after FIVE new movies premiered this past weekend? And all it took was a $16.5 million haul in August?

Some shitty spoof of shitty vampire movies came out to no acclaim? A 3D remake of low-budget cult-hit Piranha? Bow-Wow wins the lottery? Some movie about Julia Roberts eating gelato in Italy while looking for herself/a man that middle-aged women don't even like?

What the fuck is going on? Is this the third horseman?

It gets worse: The Nanny McPhee sequel beat out America's Sweetheart(TM) Jennifer Aniston's The Switch. Ha-ha!

Will this undeniably laughable result finally decrease her shitty-romantic-comedy output to less than two per year in the coming decade (until she finally ODs on whatever it is that numbs her), or do I have to sew my eyeballs shut every time I risk encountering a billboard or commercial?

Speaking of Jennifer Aniston (nee Brangelina), I know there are plenty of men out there who would 'put one in her,' but aside from that, does anybody actually care for her at all? Anybody not on her payroll, I mean. Does she have fans? Who are they? Do they not realize how boring and whiny she is, or are they interested in her like somebody who goes down to the Y once a week is interested in some little kid without a dad?

By the way, not all movies made these days are shitty--the ones that are good are usually just really hard to find. For example, when will we finally get to see 2009's I Love You Phillip Morris?

Which 12 old white men running this country from the rec room at the C-Street House do I have to blow like a circus seal during some clandestine pagan ritual in order to get the religious-right minority to back down on this one? Would they even realize the irony in making me do that? How many of them will write me checks for my services because they don't know how to use an ATM?

I'd rather not have to accidentally blow any footsoldiers, so precision is appreciated here, my child; do whatever you need to in order to get me those names.

Your Mother


Sunday, August 22, 2010

Finally, a Pop Singer Takes Responsibility

The douchebag in the middle--Charles Haddon, lead singer of legendarily obscure British pop band Ou Est Le Swimming Pool, which just rolls off your tongue--climbed a telecommunications tower in Belgium yesterday and jumped to his death. Immediately following a performance at a music festival with a funny name, which, when translated, means "PimplePop."

What gives, right? After only three singles, OELSP's transgressions against humanity's ears/minds had already reached a tipping point?

I can only assume so, since only forty people have ever heard any of their music. And two of them are now dead.

Ou Est Le Swimming Pool's first album--Christ Died for Our Synths (how's that for agonizing guilt?)--is scheduled for an October release.

The real question, though, is whether or not Christ will finally forgive the band for their synths and move on, stop torturing all mortals by lording his own death over millions of guilt-ridden believers.

Something tells me that won't happen, but I'll keep my finger on the pulse for ya.


Thursday, August 19, 2010

Ann Coulter Equates College Students with al-Qaida

Al-Qaeda, al-Qaida, al-Qa'ida, Qaeda...call them what you will, Bushites--the bottom line is they are the enemy and they are potentially everywhere, including Texas and the other 58 states.

Who are they? Irrelevant. Towel-heads. Brown people. Taxpayers. Liberals. Nuke 'em. God will sort 'em out. Whatever.

Noted foot-in-mouther Sarah Palin must have been busy watching the wet nurse breastfeed Trig as she gagged/Twittered, because this little number was left up to fellow conservative darling Ann Coulter (Hmm...the most prominent conservatives are Ann Coulter and Sarah Palin because...they are the best?)
"They hired me to give a speech, so I'm giving a speech. I do it all the time," she said. "I speak to a lot of groups and do not endorse them. I speak at Harvard and I certainly don't endorse their views. I've spoken to Democratic groups and liberal Republican groups that loooove abortion. The main thing I do is speak on college campuses, which is about the equivalent of speaking at an al-Qaida conference. I'm sure I agree with GOProud more than I do with at least half of my college audiences. But in any event, giving a speech is not an endorsement of every position held by the people I'm speaking to."
(courtesy Huffington Post)
"The main thing I do is speak on college campuses, which is about the equivalent of speaking at an al-Qaida conference."

Who is this supposed to insult more, al-Qaida or college students? Is she really equating ALL college students with al-Qaida members? Why? Because they're getting educated and don't just take whatever you try to cram down their throats? Has she ever met an al-Qaida member? Why are we listening to this woman again? Who IS she?

Ann Coulter was born in New York City, to rich parents, went to Cornell, then to Michigan, then was a law clerk in Kansas City, before she was scooped up by a Republican party desperate for pretty faces and controversy. She writes awful books and delivers awful speeches to anybody with deep pockets.

Seeing that Ann Coulter went to not one but TWO colleges, she's pretty much Public Enemy #1, as that of course implies that she is one of al-Qaida's most sophisticated operatives. Although I am unsure of her motives in revealing this new shit to the world--is she a double agent? triple agent?--many thanks to Imam Coulter, for it is now easier than ever to spot terrorists.

They are the ones who read books and think critically--and their names and addresses can conveniently be found in the admissions department at any college in the country.

Get out your guns, people! Kill the nerds that hate your freedom!


Wednesday, August 18, 2010

And a good day to you, sir!

Nicholas Cage (nee Coppola) shows off the top form that earned him his cherished Celebrity Merit Badge for Transvestic Fetishism.

Bravo, Nicoletta! Così sexy voglio avergli sesso con!


Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Elves are the Tallest of All the Nature Spirits

I'm sure you all already knew that, but if you didn't, please write that down, along with a hundred other bits of info about elves (as seen in Lord of the Rings):


Heidi Montag Knows Hyperbole

She may not know what the word means, but Heidi Montag should receive a Celebrity Merit Badge for Hyperbole.

First, her freaky, hyperbolically-curvy, wax-figurine body, courtesy of plastic surgeon Frank Ryan:

Second, the Team Heidi-approved Twitters after said plastic surgeon drove his Jeep off a cliff along the Pacific Coast Highway and died:
I am devastated to hear the news of Dr. Frank Ryan's death. He was the most amazing person I have ever known. He was an angel and changed my life and the lives of everyone he met. He was the most brilliant talented surgeon who will ever exist. Dr. Frank Ryan changed the world.

My thoughts and prayers go out to his mother, family, friends, and anyone who was ever blessed enough to meet him. He is in a better place.
(Courtesy Huffington Post)
"The most brilliant surgeon who will ever exist," who "changed the lives of everyone he met?"

Yeah, right. I believe that almost as much as I believe Heidi has the capacity to be "devastated" by anything, or that Dr. Moron "is in a better place"--he's in Hell, baby! Yeah!

Which, for the record, is much worse than being paid millions of dollars for totally unnecessary surgical procedures and then using the money to cavort around Southern California changing people's lives for the worse, all the while giggling and doing lines of silicone off the dashboard.

I have no evidence to support this claim, but something tells me Dr. Frank may have driven off a cliff because his latest 'perfect' monster (Two heads with six tongues, mounted on a giant breast!) was giving him head and it was so fantastic he just couldn't take it.

Or maybe that's just some hyperbole right there...who's to know?


Death by Cuteness

Marcel the Shell with Shoes On:

MARCEL THE SHELL WITH SHOES ON from Dean Fleischer-Camp on Vimeo.


Thursday, August 12, 2010

The Michael Cera Problem

First there was Paper Heart, then Youth in Revolt (which, for the record, was disappointing mostly because there was no real romance going on), and now Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, so I think the citizens of moviedom finally have all the evidence we need to justly psychoanalyze the central figure in the imminent crisis known in the halls of power as the Michael Cera Problem, which, incidentally, is soon to be the Next Big Thing once the Looming Commercial Real Estate Crash has its way with us.

With that in mind, please enjoy the following fabulous entry to the research on this cutting-edge topic, from Stephanie Zacharek at Movieline:
I used to worry about Cera as an actor: He seemed like a talented kid in danger of being limited by his own acute boyishness. And I still think that maybe — maybe — smart filmmakers will figure out ways to bring out the best in him. But in Scott Pilgrim his wispy smile and quivery voice aren’t endearing; they’re an affront. In every frame, Scott appears to be begging us not just to love him (which would be bad enough), but to pity him.
I’m willing to suspend disbelief enough to believe that Cera’s capable of playing a character with a sex drive. In fact, Juno handled that aspect of his character astutely: We never saw him trying to get the girl; we simply knew that he had, and that fact alone suggested that maybe this sweet, gawky kid was really quite something in the sack. Sex is, after all, one of life’s great mysteries.
But Cera plays Scott Pilgrim as the kind of guy who thinks that getting an erection is an insult to a girl, damning evidence that he doesn’t just, as we used to say in the ’70s, “love her for her mind.” Men and women alike have plenty of sexual anxieties. But just as men — the good ones — will sometimes tell us women that we don’t need to be Victoria’s Secret models to be sexy, men should know that they don’t have to be Bruce Springsteen — or even, heaven forfend, Mick Jagger — for us to find them irresistible. But they do have to look as if they might possibly be interested in having sex, and that’s a bridge too far for Cera in Scott Pilgrim. So what if he passes the Herculean he-man test the story puts him through? He still has all the sexual charisma of an untied shoelace. And even a woman who likes the soft touch can’t do much with that.
(courtesy Movieline)
I couldn't have said it better myself--after all, without any degree of sex drive detectable by modern scientists, what is the point of getting the girl?


Sunday, August 1, 2010

Sunday is a Good Day for Regret

Anything you should have done differently? Is there still enough time to change every single thing about you?

You have the day off, probably, so why don't you just sit back, take stock of your life, order another couple martinis, and figure this shit out once and for all.

After all, there is still time. For most of you...