April 28, 2011
The release of Barack Obama’s birth certificate raises more questions than it purports to resolve. His mother is listed as Stanley Dunham. Now, excuuuuse meeee, isn’t Stanley a man’s name? I never heard of a girl named Stanley.In addition, nowhere on the birth certificate is it implicitly defined that Obama’s mother is a woman. What about that? The fact that Obama’s mother is named Stanley and is not a woman leads me to draw some rather unpleasant conclusions. For years I have been insisting that there is a secret gay project to make babies pop out of men’s butts, thereby eliminating the need for women in the birthing process. Ground Zero for this conspiracy is New Jersey, which is overpopulated with gay men because the women there are so loudmouth and offal.But that’s not to say that the New Jersey Butt Baby Conspiracy could not have spread nationwide. It’s entirely plausible that Barack Obama was born out of the backside of a dude named Stanley and was then given to a woman in the maternity ward to bring up, like a Manchurian Candidate conspiracy.Maybe Obama isn’t whom he purports to be. Maybe the Russian Communists in Moscow conceived the plot to plant a sleeper agent in the White House. Obama is too smart. He knows too much. Maybe the Russians genetically grafted microprocessors into his brain while he was still in the guy’s butt so that he would be the smartest person alive, and they programmed him to turn over the US to the Russians on Dec. 21, 2012, the day that the Mayan calendar predicts the world will come to an end. style="background-color: #000000; ">TThen the guy flew to Honolulu, which is the US city closest to Russia, where the baby popped out of his butt and was handed off to the lady to bring up. This for me constitutes the most probable scenario.The only problem is that TV star and real estate mongrel Donald Trump, who has popularized this issue and stands to profit the most from it, is even a worse alien than Obama, who is, at least, an earthling. Trump was born in the New York borough of Queens, which is like Area 51, except that subway trains run through it. Queens, New York, is inhabited by bug-like creatures who use it as a staging ground to invade the United States. Queens is such a monstrous place that humans avoid it like a plague, for fear of being torn apart and consumed, like a dragonfly that inadvertently lands in the middle of a column of army ants and is devoured within seconds by horrifying, voracious creatures.You only venture into Queens at great risk to your life and limbs, as Atlanta Braves pitcher John Rocker discovered a few years ago, when he decided to take the number 7 train to Shea Stadium. The horrifying nature of that borough’s inhabitants, who scoured the subway car in search of anything organic to consume, terrified Rocker so horribly that he quit New York baseball and moved back to the United States, where he now works as a convenience store clerk and counts himself lucky to have survived.Donald Trump is probably the foremost among this species of space invader. The reason for that atrocious blow-dry mess on his head is that it conceals the antennae that he uses to receive orders from Bug Command Central. Everything else about Trump is phony and contrived, so why not his lame impersonation of a human being, which, like his hair, doesn’t fool anybody anyway. So that’s the choice: the terrestrial alien versus the space alien. You call this democracy? How long do we have to wait before they put up somebody decent, like Gilbert Gottfried, who has a long and honorable work record for the eleven years he impersonated the AFLAC duck?
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Posted on 4/28/2011
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April 24, 2011
If you want to win over people to your argument, it has to be done on the basis of reason, and not by ranting and threats. In this spirit, I have to concede a point to the Islamic Republic of Iran for its proposal to ban ownership of dogs, which are considered to be as loathsome as swine in the Muslim religion.I wish that rule could be adopted on the Upper East Side of New York, where the dogs are fouling the sidewalks at an alarming rate and killing trees with their waste.Uggh, what is the equivalent of getting all dressed up to go out and have a beautiful day, only to first thing be confronted by some filthy beast wearing a little coat and booties, all squinched up and struggling to deposit a load of abomination on the sidewalk, with his adoring owner proudly supervising the whole nasty process!Sometimes the owners don’t pick after their little darlings, leaving the pedestrian with a gruesome spectacle to behold. Indeed, this nasty show has been internalized by neurotic New Yorkers to the extent that a nut-job retail scion who was busted for sex with a minor child had his East Side mansion described in The Post as having a bronze statue of a defecating dog, complete with a little brass dog dropping. That’s how nuts New Yorkers are: monuments to dog shit! I hope this revolting little artifact gets discovered by some future archeologist, who can use it to document how boring and useless most contemporary people are.I don’t know what’s going to happen in Iran, but if they tried to ban dogs in New York City, it would be the French Revolution all over again, complete with head chopping. New Yorkers are ferocious in their affection for these mutts. Most dog owners are women, and they are using them as a substitute for the man or the kid that they are missing in their lives. That’s why the dogs are handled so peculiarly, and why they are so peculiar. While they are at it, I would be happy if the authorities banned children as well.I know I am out of the mainstream. God, do I ever! People never hesitate to remind me how weird I am. I have trouble relating to society’s core values. This morning my girlfriend, the indomitable Magpie, came running to me with the latest Charlie Sheen update. Breathlessly she told me, “Charlie Sheen got thrown off the set of an interview show because the staff of the show said he smelled too awful. Not just his body, but his breathe too!”I’m glad the freakin middle class has found a new bogeyman to chase after. It lets Fidel Castro, who this week honorably retired from his function as America’s designated scarecrow. Charlie Sheen possesses all the requisite qualities for acting as a lightning rod for right-thinking Americans. He’s a hophead who lives in a ménage à trois while his legal wife is hospitalized for rehab, and he can’t find the time to bathe. He should move to France, where they don’t even have a word in the French language for soap.In a land of antiseptic moralists, who are terrified over issues of personal hygiene to the point where I can’t figure out why they don’t just wrap themselves in plastic wrap, Charlie Sheen stinks out as a monument of demonic insalubrity. What did you expect? The guy’s a comedian. Lenny Bruce died sitting on the toilet, naked, with a needle stuck in his arm. The only difference is, Bruce at least had a dynamic stage act. When Charlie Sheen tried to take his act on the road, he bombed out. I’m not knocking him. He was pulling down two mil per episode before he pulled the plug on himself.If the viewing audience is waiting to see normal, well-behaved artists in their entertainment recreation, it’s not going to happen, OK? That is why you watch them, because they have personalities. Otherwise, go watch a mirror. This body odor issue reminds me of the Japanese movie “Realm of the Senses”, wherein the girl, reeking from an extended sex marathon with her boyfriend, goes to see a professor whom she sometimes screws for money, and he throws her out for stinking so foully.The same thing used to happen to me when I had my leather boutique. I used to show up at my business stinking unbearably from an all-nighter of night clubs, drinking, drug use and sex, but nobody expected any better of me.Anyway, now I am under the scrutiny of the middle class. I’m Magpie’s East Side Dog. She determines when I am to have a bath, and what drugs I am permitted to consume, and in what quantities (some things are non-negotiable).The middle class has extended to me many opportunities to expiate my past sins and start anew. All I had to do was repent, condemn my past behavior and turn over a new leaf, and in return I would not only be forgiven my previous transgressions but future ones as well. Caught again soliciting sex in a men’s public lavatory? He backslid, is all. Nobody’s perfect, and he’s really trying to make a fresh start.It’s being saved by Jesus all over again, but it’s gone secular. All the elements of ballbreaking fundamentalist morality are present, but in a nondenominational wrapping, with the added wrinkle of a network of “rehab” clinics so that you can reform in the ambiance of a cult setting. Basically, it seems to this observer that American-style moralism seems to be morphing with communist self-criticism to create an international über-jerk who stands transfixed in a techno disco checking his emails and then goes home to wank himself off, a far cry from what I grew up to expect out of life.A long time ago, Frank Zappa, who is still huge among artistic and intellectual elites in Europe, but has been deleted in America, recorded a catchy little pop song called “Plastic People”, complaining about Nixon-era Middle Americans in LA. Compared with what you got today, those goofballs were balls of fire bursting with personality. The inexorable trend toward even more tacky, stultifying homogeneity going forward makes me happy that if I don’t go out, I know I won’t be missing anything.
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Posted on 4/24/2011
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April 15, 2011
American society is not lacking for juicy, compelling scandals that could light up the cinema screen a thousand times brighter than “Wall Street” (how naïve and dated that movie seems in retrospect) or “The China Syndrome”. Look at the delectable smorgasbord currently on display!In this corner you have the Galleon insider trading trial, which is peeling back the skin of a stinking, rotten network of industrial espionage to reveal the entrails of Goldman Sachs, Intel and McKinney, where board members rush out of the room to phone in tips to a hedge fund manager, who trades on the information and rewards the informants with lavish payoffs.In the opposite corner you have investment banks collaborating with hedge funds in the composition of faulty mortgage-linked securities offerings, that they intentionally design to collapse, and pitching them to unsuspecting institutional investors while the hedge funds bet on the bonds to fail.In the third corner, the mortgage companies have sliced-and-diced the mortgage offerings so badly, and all the while skimping on administrative expenses, that nobody can prove the provenance or ownership of the properties, so they resort to fraud to prove to judges that they have the standing to foreclose on properties that have in many cases been confiscated even though the owners had kept up their payments.For all the above, the high rollers involved have totally gotten away clean, except for a few of the more harebrained inside traders, who were caught on wiretaps.All those people are white. The biggest catch to get netted so far is one little black guy in the fourth corner, who never stole a dime and was accused of lying about an activity he may or may not have done, even though it was not even illegal at the time. Baseball champion Barry Bonds was convicted this week in San Francisco federal court on one felony count of obstruction of justice for not being forthright enough in his answers to questioning posed to him while under oath before a federal grand jury in 2003, about whether or not he had ever taken steroids. Bonds was never accused of lying or perjuring himself under oath, but for being evasive and finessing his answers. Apparently, that’s enough to get you convicted of a felony these days. What makes it worse is that he is being railroaded by a gang of lawyers, who are paid specifically to lie and twist facts. Believe me, I know what I am talking about. When a lawyer lies, it is thought of as conjecturing an alternative argument.Whom did the prosecution call to testify against Bonds? His ex, whom he got rid of and has got such a big beef against him that she wrote a book about it. She testified that Bonds’ testicles shrank. Hey, maybe that was his personal reaction to being around her!Another expert witness was the equipment manager of the San Francisco Giants baseball team, who swore under oath that Bonds’ hat size grew by one-eighth of an inch over the course of nine years. Wait a minute: don’t baseball caps have adjustable bands? My personal experience with athletic headgear tells me that a lot of it is not exactly tailored like a Stetson hat, and, in any case, maybe batting helmets from different suppliers fit differently, no?So who is going to indict Bonds’ accusers for giving specious testimony? Who is going to indict the prosecutors for carrying on a years-long personal campaign against a baseball star whose only crime is that a lot of white fans don’t like him very much? Commentators keep bringing up the alternative example of Hank Aaron, who was a good natured black superstar that the fans could love, as opposed to Bonds’ approach of “show me the money”.In the meantime, the New York Yankees have launched an impressive start to the new season. Yesterday A-Rod led off with a first inning three-run homer against Baltimore. Of course, A-Rod, who is the darling of baseball and who is so far above popular culture that he can dismiss Madonna with just the wave of his, er, bat, is also a known past steroid abuser. Unlike Bonds, the proof is incontrovertible, so he just admitted it. Nobody is indicting A-Rod, ruining his career and landing him in the prisoners’ dock.Oh, I forgot! A-Rod has never been compelled to testify. How forgetful of me! Unlike Barry Bonds, A-Rod has got too many powerful constituencies backing him up. Why pick a fight with Hispanics over a baseball player when you might need their votes? On top of which, A-Rod is from Miami, and we all know how important Florida is to the Republicans.This Bonds sideshow was contrived by Republican politicians when they were in power strictly for electoral purposes, to appeal to the personal antipathy against Bonds held by white baseball fans in the red states, a continuation of Nixon’s “Southern Strategy” of overtly pandering to racist passions. To their great disgrace, Obama and his attorney general, Eric Holder, have allowed the corrupt process to continue for fear of being accused of favoritism. Hell, at the risk of sounding too much like Malcolm X, it is a racist, honky lynching that originated in the minds of Republican legislators and at-the-time U.S. Attorney General John Ashcroft, a right-wing hick if ever one existed, to divide the nation along racial fault lines.Look at the electoral map. The so-called “red states” conform exactly to the composition of the Confederate States of America, which launched a war of secession specifically to extend the institution of slavery into perpetuity, plus a few western territories. Nothing has changed since the civil war, except now the Confederate tail is wagging the dog, and we are all being sucked into the psychic trauma of their racist propensities.After the civil war, black people were nominally freed, but were thrown into the street, penniless, and then ganged up on and butchered by the avenging, vindictive white population that had previously owned them. President Ulysses S. Grant made a few futile efforts to protect their persons, but he was eventually forced to give up the effort for lack of political support. In cities like Tallahassee and Oklahoma City, full-blown pogroms broke out with hundreds of citizens murdered and mile of city blocks decimated, like ancient Carthage. That revanchist sentiment thrives to the present day, but people seem to be too stupid to connect the dots.Republicans have always used racial warfare for political gain. The anti-red witch-hunts of the 1950’s were specifically targeted against Jews, but the Jews, who overwhelmingly vote Democratic, are too influential to attack today. That has slowed the Republicans down somewhat, but it hasn’t knocked them out of the box. They are casting about for new victims. They did a full-court press against Clinton for lying about his sexual indiscretions, including an impeachment trial, which turned out to be the farce of the western world. As recently as this year, Republican Representative Peter King of New York (Long Island) held a one-day hearing on Islam in America, accusing Muslim community leaders of not doing enough to eradicate Islamic extremist activity (as though some guy sitting at a desk can control a gang of pizza delivery jerks who are watching bin Laden videos on the internet). King even produced a Muslim witness who broke down in tears about how much he loves America, which is nose candy for TV land, but the hearing failed to get much traction and the show closed after only one performance.Frankly, with the 2012 elections fast approaching and the bogus budget battles taking up all the air in the room, I doubt that the Republicans will have the resources to mount very many theatrical extravaganzas, particularly since the Bonds jury was hung on the three most important charges. As it stands, he is not guilty of doing anything, just of not being forthright about whatever he was supposed to have done. It’s the law of diminishing returns. What is the prosecution going to do, ask for a new trial so they can replay the testicle testimony and all the other hearsay and related nonsense? In fact, considering the ephemeral nature of the charges, Bonds’ attorneys stand a decent chance of getting this conviction reversed on appeal, I believe.Never mind. The damage is done. Bonds’ baseball career, including his homerun record, is a shambles. Like Pete Rose, who was railroaded before him, the only way Bonds is going to be able to enter the Baseball Hall of Fame will be to purchase a spectator ticket. More’s the pity.As they say in AA, the only way to cure a sickness is to first confront the reality of it. “I’m Joe Blow, and I am an alcoholic”. Will Americans, with their dreadfully short memory and even more limited span of attention, even be capable of confronting the continual ravages and psychic distortions that are the heritage of racism and slavery?Bonds is being used as a dual-purpose pin cushion for the white establishment to stick pins in, an acupuncture treatment for white people to relieve the internal pressures of racist loathing tormenting their psyches; and as a voodoo doll, whitey’s symbolic effigy of all black people.
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arod, barry bonds
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Posted on 4/15/2011
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April 08, 2011
According to Pope Benedict, as quoted in the official Vatican newspaper, birth control pills are changing women’s peepee into a golden shower of pollution that is threatening to poison the environment. Only the Men of American can save the world from poison peepee before it kills us all!According to the National Geological Survey, the women of the world produce enough peepee every day to fill an inland waterway the size of Bolivia’s Lake Titicaca, and if the Pope is right the amount of pollutants contained therein would be enough that if the lake flooded over it could inundate the entire Amazon Rain Forest, killing every man, woman, child, beast and plant within a 5,0000 mile radius, and denuding all the foliage, which would devastate the world’s oxygen supply.Ancient hieroglyphics from the Pre-Columbian Mayan civilization predict that the world will end in the year 2012. For centuries, anthropologists and historians have struggled to interpret a symbol that kept appearing in these apocalyptic narratives. The symbol was that of a woman seated between a panther and a porcupine, and its meaning was a mystery for years, until Prof. Putzo D. Huevomann of the University of Lubeck interpreted it by using the first letter of each animal, panther and porcupine, to form the word “peepee”. The ancient Maya, incredible as it may seem, were warning that the world would be destroyed by women’s peepee!We cannot just sit by complacently while this threat multiplies exponentially on a daily basis. My solution is to set up Poison Peepee Collection Centers and ship the toxic substance by means of supertankers and LNG transport vessels to a remote, isolated storage facility in the Mongolian desert, where it would be stored for thousands of years in reinforced 12-inch steel tanks until its active ingredient becomes inert.In the meantime, the only immediate solution is for men to construct reinforced concrete containment vessels, like the barriers surrounding Japan’s Fuckyoushima Nuclear Facility, around their girlfriends’ vaginas. This would at least halt the leakage of poison peepee into the environment and buy time for us to construct a system of peepee transport pipelines from the seaport of Russia’s Sakhalin Island to the central peepee storage site in Central Asia.But we have to look beyond temporary solutions and confront the root causes of the poison peepee crisis. Obviously, we can’t stop women from using birth control pills, as the Pope advocates, because then we would be confronted with an even greater threat, babies popping out of the pussy everywhere you looked. Women would start popping out babies in every conceivable situation: restaurants, movie theaters, the subway. Pretty soon you wouldn’t be able to walk down Fifth Avenue, for fear of tripping over babies that their mothers popped out of themselves on their way to work.No, the only solution is to cut off the main ingredients that go into producing women’s toxic peepee, and that substance is beer. Beer makes women piss like crazy, and if you don’t believe this, just try going into the ladies room at your local bar. It’s a stinking, vile mess. Half the time, these broads don’t even bother to flush the stuff away. The floors are invariably flooded with piss, which usually has the extra, added bonus of floating, bloody Tampaxes. Yuk! If we could get these women off beer, not only would it staunch the flow of toxic birth control peepee into the environment, but it would ease the strain on beer breweries around the world, allowing them to brew more beer for men. Additionally, without women getting drunk and screaming like banshees, because they obviously cannot hold their liquor, a beer prohibition against females would make the world a quieter, more tranquil place for men.The Pope has rendered the human race a great service by alerting mankind to the dangers of women’s toxic peepee. But it is up to men to rush into the breech!
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Posted on 4/8/2011
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April 05, 2011
I thank the Lord for saving me from a career in the comedy business. I started off on the same stage as Howie Mandel and Jim Carrey, at Yuk Yuk’s Komedy Kabaret in Canada. Naturally, all the comics dreamed of moving to the States. I had a big edge on the rest of those dummies because I was operating a leather boutique on Montreal’s Ste. Catherine Street. I already had my name in lights: “Deans Boutique de Cuir”.Mandel and Carrey went to LA and hit it big almost instantly. Another couple of comics I had worked with, Howard Busgang and Mark Blutman, also went out there and got hired as writers for a sitcom called “Boy Meets World”. When they had to come up with a name for a villainous college dean, they used my name “Dean Borak”, and when the show hit the whole country knew my name.I didn’t even find out about that until long after the fact. I was in Manhattan and no time for TV. I never watch sitcoms. I had chosen a tougher career track: move to New York, get a job in the fashion business, and work out in the clubs at night. As it developed, New York club owners hated me on sight, and the fashion job took all my attention. Why should I break my back, hanging out in some sleazy bar with a bunch of useless clowns until all hours of the night when I was already making more money in my day job than I could ever make hanging out with a bunch of pathetic losers?Maybe I made the wrong call. I coulda been a contender. Hell, I was smarter than Howie Mandel, whose big pièce de résistance for his act was to blow up a rubber glove, jam it onto his head and squat around the stage imitating a chicken. And I was just as erratic and unstable as Jim Carrey.Alas, it wasn’t meant to be. I instead went into the gym and passed thousands of nights doing bodybuilding and martial arts. Today I might be broke, but at least I look OK. A lot of other failed comedians would have done well to go into the gym instead of inflicting themselves on the public, with horrifying consequences. This atrocious monster, the Reverend Terry Jones of the World Outreach Center in Gainesville, Florida, tops the list of moronic, imbecilic twits for his public burning of the Islamic Koran, which as a stage gag makes Mandel’s rubber glove trick look like inspired rocket science by comparison. Jones’ stunt inflamed a mob of ignorant peasants to storm a United Nations diplomatic mission in Afghanistan, where they murdered seven innocent diplomatic consultants. This Jones, whose obvious goal is to solicit donations from redneck bigots, should be locked up and tortured, which is what the Russian count did to the comedian in Andrei Tarkovski’s classic movie “Andrei Rubelev” when the guy’s joke bombed.What should be the punishment be for a bad joke? Obviously, words hurt. Gestures hurt. Comedian Gilbert Gottfried, whom I have always adored as a sick fucking jerk, recently lost his gig as the voice of the AFLAC duck for broadcasting sick jokes about the Japan shake n’ bake over his Twitter account. The catch? AFLAC makes more money in Japan, where it has 25% market penetration, than it does in the States, where its market share is only 6%. This imbecile, Gottfried, is now out of thousands of bucks per week, which he earned by quacking like a duck.There oughta be a law. Hate speech is a criminal offense in Europe and Canada, but in the States it is shielded by the same constitutional protection that is afforded to Mother’s Day cards. Hell, if I was the district attorney in Gainesville, I would at least try to charge Rev. Jones with being an accessory to murder before the fact, and present evidence that the mob in Afghanistan was directly influenced by his odious behavior in Florida. A stupid mob of indigenous knuckleheads can’t be indicted, but the instigator of the action could conceivably be held to account, at least for depraved indifference. The world is not so small anymore – what happens in Gainesville can have a direct affect on events half a world away.What about Sarah Palin? Her intemperate, vindictive, incontinent declarations about “lock and load” and “taking the country back”, and her marksmanship targets painted on Arizona Rep. Gabrielle Giffords directly influenced the retard Gerald Loughner to shot her in the face. Giffords survived, but she has got a gunshot entry wound on her forehead. Meantime, Palin is lying low and waiting for the dust to settle so that she can start all over again with her fiendish brand of incendiary rabble-rousing. How come no smart-ass attorney has decided to charge her?Maybe the fix is in, and influential interests vastly more powerful than she feel that if the chain of culpability extends too far, they might all be held to account. Remember, Palin and Jones are just the ventriloquist dummies, and somebody behind the curtains is obviously pulling the strings.But the Golden Vaudeville Hook has to go to British jurist Richard Goldstone, who submitted a 575-page report to the United Nations condemning the State of Israel for war crimes allegedly committed by the Israeli military during its invasion of the Gaza Strip as a consequence of continued and unrelenting rocket attacks by the Hamas army against cities in southern Israel. Goldstone, in an op-ed editorial in the Washington Post, has admitted that his report was based on errors and untrue information, and he wishes he could take it back.I have always hated attorneys, and this schmuck perfectly exemplifies everything that is wrong with that misbegotten race of maggoty mutants. Himself a Jew, Goldstone felt compelled by WASP social pressure to write a 575-page report to the UN slamming supposed Israeli atrocities towards the Arab residents of Gaza during the 2009 war, which he himself admits to be fallacious. What to do with a low-life like this, who betrayed the truth and slandered his own people, just so he could show his face in the Jew-Haters Club.The damage this bastard did to the Jewish people and the State of Israel is inestimable, in that he put the United Nations imprimatur on a phony, false report, which even he himself now repudiates, accusing Israel of war crimes, and allowing organized anti-Semitism throughout the world to show its ugly face once more, waving a false 575-page United Nations document of lies and hate.And he’s a Jew himself! Imagine the gloating satisfaction of world Hitlerism, to be able to wave a huge book asserting Jewish atrocities and being able to boast, “Don’t blame us. This report is written by a Jew”.Now that he’s sorry, what is this Goldstone going to do about it, run around and collect all the copies of his report and shred them? Not bloody likely. All he can do is offer a lame apology and hide his face until it blows over, like Sarah Palin. Apologies don’t count for shit. The harm is already done and irreversible. This report, which he himself repudiates, is in circulation and will show up forever. Even if he were to hang himself, there is not enough rope in the world to hang this guy the way he deserves.He should turn himself over to Israel, put on a hair shirt and publicly flagellate himself all up and down the country, and then beg the Supreme Court and Chief Rabbi of Israel for forgiveness, and pay whatever penance they assign to him. He’s garbage.As Jackie Mason once said about the French, I don’t mean to offend anybody. I took the hint and got out of the comedy business before I did any lasting harm. Somebody should clam up these other misbegotten dorks before they succeed in bringing the entire world to an end.I knew this comic who went by the stage name “Uncle Dirty”. One night, after a show, we were all sitting around having drinks and talking comedian bullshit, which is a semaphore of drunken idiots, and Dirty recounted to me the story of a comic who had played an unfortunate joke, the consequences of which rebounded on everybody except the comedian himself. Dirty told me, “Everybody suffered but him”.
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Posted on 4/5/2011
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April 02, 2011
Nobody is more sensible than I to the allure of seeing somebody lose his dental work in a flood of sputum as the result of a perfectly aimed flying hook kick. More’s the pity, therefore, of the editing of the fight scenes in Sylvester Stallone’s latest production, “The Expendables”. The fight scenes are edited too sharply, depriving the audience of the visceral rush that comes of savoring those instances of payback that sell movie tickets. Fortunately that disappointment over the fight scenes is mitigated by new incindiary bullets that explode inside the victim, reducing him to a bloody shower of gore.This latest extravaganza, directed by Stallone, is embarrassed by a plethora of talent that has nothing to do. The storyline is straightforward enough: Stallone’s gang rescues a tasty piece of Latin female flesh from the torture chamber of a rogue CIA agent who has taken over a sleepy Caribbean island for purposes of cocaine production. Unfortunately, Jason Statham, of the “Transporter” series and Jet Li, the notable Asian martial arts performer, are mostly used as sidekicks for Stallone who, despite being spectacularly ripped, can’t fight for shit.Stallone mostly flails his arms, throwing roundhouse shots like a sissy. His fighting technique has not improved since the first “Rocky”. Statham and Li, who both can fight, are left to suck wind in this, yet another, vanity project showcasing Stallone. The most satisfying line of the movie for me came when, after suffering a majestic thrashing at the hands of a genuinely tough villain, Stallone laments to Stratham, “I just got my ass kicked!” style="background-color: #333333; ">AA lot of other good talent is wasted in this production. Bruce Willis and Arnold Schwartznegger get walk-on roles, and Mickey Rourke is cast as a pipe-smoking tattoo artist, I kid you not.Not that I have any problem with male-oriented action cinema. Women’s movies don’t go anywhere, and psychological thrillers bore me stiff. Stallone has actually done a lot to advance cinematic art. His 1976 “Rocky”, which was a throwback to 1940’s boxing movies, did a lot to shake Hollywood out of the somniforic stupor that was a result of the nation’s desire for complacency after Vietnam and Watergate.Unfortunately, following the ancient rule of thumb that you become what you hate most, Stallone, who was a Vietnam draft dodger, resolved to make a pile of money portraying “Rambo”, a jungle superhero capable of decimating an entire NVA battalion, which soured me on him. Nevertheless, between “Rocky” and “Rambo” sequels, Stallone has been able to thrive into a minor empire.“The Expendables” is a feast for the eyes if you enjoy watching well-stacked women and chiseled tough guys, which I do. Thirty years I have been hitting the weight room, and I don’t look anywhere near as nice as those sumbitches. Stallone’s camera loves huge, ripped pectorals and marbleized forearms. When I see that, I am motivated to keep my shirt on. Maybe it’s something I’m not doing wrong!Never mind that. Stallone is no kid – he’s over 60. He is helping to define the new world ordure by coming back again and again with “Rocky” – “Rambo” sequels, showing people that you don’t have to make way for the younger generation. It’s a cold shower for young people who are anticipating the flow of attrition to smooth their way to power.
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arnold schwartznegger, bruce willis, jason statham, jet li, mickey rourke, sylvester stallone, the expendables
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Posted on 4/2/2011
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