Here are a couple of comedic endeavors I will be partaking in this week. Come by and laugh at me, or wtih me. I don't care either way.
MAX! Wednesday, February 1, 7:30pm at Mo Pitkins, NYC
Featuring:
Mintyfresh Saturday February 4, 8pm at Otto's Shrunken Head, NYC
Both of these shows are free. Click the links for more details.
And the #1 movie in America is..............
Yup, that's right! Not only was Big Fucking Momma's House 2 the number one movie this week, it was the second highest earning January debut film EVER! Listen, the rest of the word already hates us for the descisions we make. Let's not make it any easier for them, PLEASE!
Move over Thorton Melon, cuz Curt Henning's making "waves."
"Mr. Perfect" Curt Henning R.I.P. 1958 - 2003.
I often find myself the encyclopedia of mediocre 80's movies that were on contstant HBO rotation throughout my youth. Because of said knowlegde, I am convinced it has polluted my mind with such nonsense that my brain is unable to obtain relevant information pertinent to, hmmm, I don't know, a respectable job or a meaningful relationship past three months! Ahhh, I digress.
ANYWAY, I thought I would compile some of my favorite villians from that decade's celluloid. So, here we go:
Who's the baddest mofo in Harlem?? Sho Nuff!! Now, I don't travel up to Harlem very often, but lord knows if I ran into Mr. Nuff, I think I'd be shuffling my feetsa the hell out of Daddy Green's Pizza! Film: Last Dragon
David Lopan is about 732 years old when he fianlly met his mortality, in the for of the Jack Burton Express!! You have to hand it to good 'ol Dave. Even though he was about as old as dirt, he was still determined to lay the pipe into Kim Catrel, which is respectable. Film: Big Ttrouble in Little China. Lopan also had another look to him that quite errily resembled the final month of Strom Thurman. 
Not only did Bull Hurley remind me of a meaner, facially hair endowed King Kong Bundy, he had two of the best quotes ever out of a movie villian in, "I drive trucks, break arms, and arm wrestle. It's what I love to do, it's what I do best." And, lest we forget, "Being number one is everything. There is no second place. Second sucks." I remember the latter quote vividly. The first time I viewed this film was on a sunday evening after participating in the annual Cub Scout social/Father's Pissing contest, also know as the Pinewood Derby. Coincidentally, I finished second that evening's race. After the movie, I took a long hard look at myself in the mirror and realized, second does suck! You know what, the following year, your's truly captured the Pinewood Derby Crown. Boo Ya! Don't believe me, I have the trophies and the social anxiety to prove it. Thank you, Bull Hurley. Thank you. Film: Over theTop. On a side note, Rick Zamwalt, the actor who played Bull Hurley died in March of 2003. There are rumors speculating that he died in a Meth house. Ahhh, the irony of an actor dying in a Meth house who most famous role was as an ARM WRESTLING TRUCKER.
"What's a matter Danielle, Mommy not here to dress ya?" I love William Zabka and his breakout role as Johnny Lawrence, main cheese of the Cobra Kai. Often unnoticed goes the performance of the the dojo toady, Dutch. He reminds me of that kid in middle scholl who you used to hang around the dudes who used to push me around and make fun of me. But when that little sack of shit tried to to it on his own, he always lost out, much like the locker room scene where Dutch treis to confront Daniel. "Points or no points, your dead meat. Dead meat." Film: Karate Kid. Bonus feature: the actor who plays Dutch is Chad McQueen, who is the son of the baddest of the badass actors, Steve McQueen.
Extra side note: coming up with this entry and AND HAVING ALL ABOVE KNOWLEDGE to back things up is further proof I need to get laid.
So, all I hear about lately is how Kobe Bryant scored 81 points in an NBA game. I get to thinking and me and Mr. Bryant are roughly the same age, which leads me to asses my life once again. So, here it is, a breakdown, Kobe vs. Wes....in life!!
Now, I have a crappy, desk jockey day job and a struggling (or nonexsitant) comedy career at the age of 26. Kobe, ripe off of an 81 point perfromance, has already had a 10 year career in the National Basketball Association, with three titles to show for it. I have carpel tunnel, a Slayer poster, and anxiety attacts to show for my "achievements." Go figure.
When I was growing up, I remember the Gatorade ads telling me that I should "Be Like Mike" (Jordan that is). Seeing that "The Kobes" is this generations Jordan, should I be trying to emmulate someone who is essentially my peer? But, then it all makes sense. Kobe should try to be more like me!!! Why? Well, I'm not shelfish prick and I haven't raped anyone. So, I've got that going for me....which is nice.
Wherever life takes you, if you ever find yourself at Play in Queens on a Satuday night, you know you've hit rock bottom. Maybe it was the $11 Jamesons, the constant rotation of "Hollaback Girl", or a FUCKING DRESS CODE AT A BOWLING ALLEY, but I think I'd rather spend an evening watching reruns of BeastMaster and funnelling Zima's.
Now that I think about it, if you are ever in the position of looking to find ANYTHING to do on a Saturday night to cure your stircraziness afterwatching Fried Green Tomatoes for the third time on TBS and you find yourself saying, "Hey, know what would be fun, going to Queens," then you really need to assess the direction of your life. The only good thing to ever come out of Queens were the Ramones, and almost all them are already dead.
I must take the blame, for I "recommended" to my pals we go here on a whim, hoping to find some humor and solace in the cheesy, pathetic life of other. Unfortunately, it had the reverse affect, as this excurion drove the nails into my coffin of banality. I need a hobby. Anyone like model trains?
If I ever have the misfortune of losing one of my eyes, I hope I can look as suave as Kurt Russell.
If Lars and Dave can share an embrace, peace is possible anywhere and everywhere.
So, it appears Axl Rose has thawed out of his cryogenic freeze and has made a public appearance. Honestly, the dude looks like he's lost a step or two from the days when he wore kilts, a catcher's chest protector, and spontaneously assaulted his own fans.
I always get a little excited when I hear Mr. Rose steps back into the limelight. These days he seems to make about as many public appearances as Bobby Fischer, minus the anti-Semitic rhetoric, yet plus the latent misogynistic bravado. Appetite for Destruction was probably the album that was the bridge to my puberty. It didn't necessarily defined my puberty, because I wasn’t quite there yet and that is a whole different topic/album, which by the way is Pantera's Vulgar Display of Power, hands down. Anyway, it's interesting to see someone whose music I used idolize and moves I used to emulate in the present tense. I must say, looking at Axl now. I'm not sure if I can comfortably see myself standing in front of my bedroom mirror and lip syncing into my Swiffer to Rocket Queen anymore. Don't get me wrong, I still love the tunes, but I see myself as Axl circa 1988. Similarly, I can't see myself in my room dropping leg drops on my pillow trying to be present day Hulk Hogan. I see myself as the Hulkster breaking the Iron Sheik's camel clutch to win the title on January 23, 1984. Hell, who am I kidding, I listened to Real American on my iPod on the way to work. "When it comes crashing down and it hurts inside...."
Oh, and one more thing, is it me or does present day Axl seem like a cross hybrid of Jim "The Anvil" Neidhart and some college hoochie who just came back from Cancun ?
Does...
...Equal...
...plus....
*Coincidentally, I just started reaing Chuck Klosterman's Fargo Rock City. I highly recomend to others who grew up an 80's metal head.*
Superman had Kryptonite.
Bill Russell owned Wilt Chamberlain.
And in the end, Cobrai Kai was no match for Myagi and LaRusso.
The point being, that sooner or later, every man meets his match. This past Friday, I met mine in the form of Jim Beam. Don't get me wrong, I lika-the-whiskey from time to time. I enjoy the intoxication of a few Jameson on the rocks and the goofiness it can bring. Yet, there's something about "doing shots " of burboun that can turn a mere mortal into a babbling manic bafoon. One minute I'm on point ripping jokes. Next thing you now, I've tunred into a whimpering preteen girl if she just found out that Joey Lawrence was gay.
It may be unfair of me to lay the blame solely on Mr. Beam. All aftermentioned shots were quickly washed down with a smoothe tasting can of Pabst Blue Ribbon. I have had plenty of experience with the PBR and have usually walked away with moderate success. I've never really have had Jim Beam by itself, but having whiskey burbon on it's own hasn't caused too much trouble. So, maybe my nemesis is the combonation of the two. It's tempting yet potentially fatal to mix them. Kind of like if the Ghostbusters crossed the streams. Potentially fatal.
