So, there's some kid who comes into my store all the time and tells me about the crap they're showing him in some film appreciation class at his community college. They ended the semester with some "fun" by looking at the exploitation genre. And who did this idiot of a teacher use as an example of exploitation filmmaking?
Quentin Tarantino and that phony piece of crap, Deathproof.
You might be able to buy a Misfits shirt for $50 at some pig pen like Nordstrom's, but it's just not the same as the one you stole from guy who was passed out (maybe dead?) in the corner of some hole in the wall at a show in 1981. You know, the shirt with the wickedly faded bloodstains… you can't duplicate that.
Yet, Tarantino has made a career by doing just that, replicating the shit he loves, and winking at you the whole time, just so we know how fucking cool, hip, and film savvy he is, instead of creating something new on his own.
And he's just as phony as the Hollywood fucks he aims to be so unlike. For example, in the theatrical release of Deathproof, they edited out a lap dance scene… almost as if the scumbag pedophile working the projector cut the film out on his own.
But nope… there's the footage in the "special edition" DVD. A nice little piece of "fuck you" marketing from Tarantino. That's not grindhouse… it's pretty fucking mainstream.
Anyway, my point is that I told this kid that it wasn't his fault he was lead astray, but that once shown the truth, he had a decision to make about where his artistic values went.
Basically, I refused to rent him Deathproof until he saw a real exploitation film with car chases and ass kicking females.
I forced him to watch Russ Meyer's Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!
That's a real exploitation flick that wasn't made to trick people into thinking they're cooler than they really are, like a bunch of accountants getting drunk on the back nine and telling black jokes.
Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! was made to help people who like hot chicks, violence, and cars to help get them through the night. Basically, it's for all men and a few women that I would love to party with.
The film starts with a no fucking around montage of Billie, Rosie, and Varla go-go dancing and the desperate men yelling for more. These three don't sit in a car talking about mundane shit in a phony attempt to seem "real," they race hot rods, play chicken, kidnap young girls, and murder the young girl's square of a boyfriend.
That's what real femme fatales do.
And they're ridiculously hot too. That's the point of exploitation… you know, to fucking exploit! Sure the eight main characters (which are about five too many regardless of your genre) in Deathproof were good looking, but the only one that qualifies for HOT status in an exploitation flick is Rose McGowan, and she gets killed right away.
If you're drunk enough and have enough coke, you could probably pick up any of the girls in Deathproof. If you pulled that shit with Varla, she'd hand you your nuts in a paper sack faster than a retard gets excited about passing the first level on Pac Man.
The women in Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! are straight out of a comic book, the way they should be. Bullshit attempts at three-dimensional characters have no business in an exploitation film. Russ Meyer knew this. Tarantino doesn't.
There's a plot to Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! and it's a thin one at that, but so what, it works for what it's intended to be. It's a backdrop for the Pussycats to wreck havoc, Varla in particular, in glorious black and white.
..
Five stars for Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! One star for Deathproof.
- Vans McCoy was knocked out at a Dead Kennedys show in the early 80's and has been a cultural expert ever since. He has spent time in several small bands over the years. He sang for The Magnificent Cox, played bass in Manson's Ranchers, and was lead guitarist for Televised Execution. He's spent 347 days in local jails throughout the country and is now gainfully employed managing a local video store.
The good news is that M. Night Shyamalan's The Happening is an improvement from The Lady in The Water.
The Bad news is that it is still not as good as Fast and The Furious – My Car is Faster Than Yours, or National Lampoon's Last Resort IV starring Richard Grieco.
Oh, where, oh where, to begin?
Let's start with the story. Out of nowhere, people suddenly stop in their tracks, talk some gibberish, and commit suicide. OK, so far, so good. So, we're looking at a problem affecting humanity, and we're going to check it out through the eyes of a few individuals caught up in their unique struggle with the epidemic. That's a little like Signs, but whatever, I liked Signs.
The people in particular are high school science teacher Elliot Moore (Mark Wahlberg), and his wife, Alma (Zooey Deschanel). They join the mass of people trying to escape whatever seems to be killing people in the Northeast US. They're joined by math teacher, Julian (John Leguizamo), and his daughter Jess.
They make it as far as the middle of nowhere surrounded by trees, which turns out to be a bad thing because… dun, dun, DUN!!!! – The trees are the bad guys because they're trying to kill our heroes.
And why are the trees so pissed off? Because humans are destroying the planet, dumbass!
How do we know all this? Because a minor character portrayed as Act Two comic relief speculates that plants are emitting a chemical that makes humans kill themselves as botanical self-defense.
So, our heroes, who presumably are good people, are the victims of vengeful plants, making them the "bad guys." But yet, we're supposed to empathize with the plants?
Fuck that. And not in some Republican CEO of some international industrial company way. No… fuck that in a shitty excuse for story structure and character development kind of way.
Once the characters "decide" who and what the antagonist is, they don't do the most obvious thing to combat it: chop and burn those motherfuckers to the ground!
Instead, they stay in areas where they're surrounded by nature. Idiots.
All this sets the stage to build up towards one of the most passive-aggressive, yawn-inducing climaxes in film history between Elliot and… the air.
Oh yeah, there's an attempt at a sub plot where Alma may or may not be fooling around on Elliot with some guy she works with. I say that as an afterthought, because that's about how serious the characters and the writer/director/hack treat it.
Hmmm, global fucking catastrophe, and M. Night still thinks he needs to throw in some Jerry Springer bullshit to up the dramatic ante?
And the acting? Shit… all I will say is that people just don't talk like that.
So, is it official? Can we stop referring to M. Night Shyamalan as the "new Hitchcock" yet?
I mean, I guess I wouldn't have a problem with the comparison, if, you know, M. Night made movies that were watchable.
- Vans McCoy was knocked out at a Dead Kennedys show in the early 80's and has been a cultural expert ever since. He has spent time in several small bands over the years. He sang for The Magnificent Cox, played bass in Manson's Ranchers, and was lead guitarist for Televised Execution. He's spent 347 days in local jails throughout the country and is now gainfully employed managing a local video store.
You see, those were the scores from my final match as a professional boxer. A split decision loss to Juancho "The Meat Pulveriser" Huerta, a journeyman with a pitiful 15-9 record.
I knocked him down three times and easily won the first nine rounds.
Word of advice to all boxers: NEVER fight a Hispanic boxer in Los Angeles on Cinco de Mayo… unless you're Hispanic, I guess. If you win by KO (and good luck… I dropped Huerta in the 3rd, and he was given a count of 17 to get to his feet) there's going to be a riot, and you'll never get a win on the cards.
I was done with boxing and done with Cinco de Mayo.
For years, the date haunted me. Watching people celebrate was like watching them celebrate the end of my fighting career. So, I decided, with some help from a therapist, to celebrate on a day when lots of people were in pain: May 6th, or Sies-o de Mayo.
Since then, I've discovered that there's plenty of better reasons to celebrate the Sies-o de Mayo instead anyway!
1. Orson Welles is born (1915) – A great artist who was forever ahead of his time. A man who reached the apex of his career the moment it began and watched it end as an invisible voice in a cartoon that's been now replaced by a bigger budgeted stupid film.
I'm talking about Transformers of course.
I can relate to the career of Orson Welles… except in the Welles metaphor for life, he probably would have knocked out Larry Holmes in the title fight.
2. Walden can't make the final round – The death of famed American writer, Henry David Thoreau, is cause for a somber remembrance on this day. I find his writings on government and nature to still hold up today, especially in terms of their relationship to boxing scoring.
He once wrote, "I ask for, not at once no government, but at once a better government…"
I can only ask the same of boxing judges. There shouldn't be no judges, just better ones.
He also said, "That government is best which governs not at all; and when men are prepared for it, that will be the kind of government which they will have."
In other words, finish the fight, don't let a fight go to the scorecards. Amen, brother.
3. Deal or No Deal? Take the Deal! – On this day, The Works Progress Administration is created by Executive Order 7034.
I don't know much about this one, but Slocomb assures me that it's a day long celebrated by bums across the country as the day that the government said it was OK to be a bum and, in fact, rewarded bums across the US with a free job where you didn't have to do a "dang thing."
A day for bums to get a break. I can get behind that.
4. It ain't over till the final bell – In 1863, the Union Army lost The Battle of Chancellorsville, a pivotal battle in The Civil War. Don't get me wrong, I'm no supporter of the South, but what does this battle teach us?
Sure, the Union could've packed it up and stayed down for the count.
Sure, they could've told their corner man that they couldn't see and to stop the war.
Sure, they could've listened to the crowd's chants of "Stay down you low-life, no-good, club fighter," or "You're better off serving lunches at the diner!" or "My mom hits harder than you, you mongoloid looking nincompoop," but they didn't!
They got up off their stool for the 15th, and weren't content just making it to the end.
No! They put everything they had into that next round and pummeled their opponent into oblivion! That's what I call motivation, dammit!
5. Even the Greats Know When to Pack it in – Perhaps more so than the career of Orson Welles, I can far better relate to the life of Chief Crazy Horse, which could be argued ended on May 6, 1877 when he finally surrendered to the US Army, much as I formally surrendered my boxing career on the same day 113 years later.
The great Native American warriors are never alone. The spirit links us forever. Corrupt judges. The US Army. These are forces that no warrior can fight forever. They always win in the end no matter how great you once were.
Why was I celebrating today in the first place anyway…
- Tonto Balboa, real name unknown, is a former prizefighter with a record of 48-10. He is best known for getting his ass royally whupped by Larry Holmes in Madison Square Garden. Since then, Balboa has toured the country as a salesman, attempting to cash in on his 1/64th Native American heritage, by selling Indian artifacts. He is currently the editor and chief (after all, he Native American) of Tonto and Friends.
But is this only the tip of the iceberg? Is there more to come out about our candidates as this election season rolls along through the dog days of summer?
I've spent my afternoons for the past month doing the work of the mainstream media and digging up what the next scandals will be for Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, John McCain, and even that pesky Ron Paul.
It's disturbing. Very disturbing.
Consider the following to be a blockbuster preview of the scandals coming soon to pundit show near you!
McCain Wipes Back-to-Front – It's come to my attention the presumptive Republican nominee, Senator John McCain, uses an unconventional method of wiping after performing a number 2. You know, dropping the grandparents off at the old folks home. Making a Napalm run on the jungle. Dropping a Deuce.
He goes back-to-front. This smacks in the face of all things traditional. We knew he was a maverick, but who knew that he was THIS much of a maverick?
What does this say about his stance on health care? Can he be trusted to fix a broken health care system.
Hillary Plays Dirty Monopoly – Based on her wins in blue collar states like Pennsylvania, on the surface it looks like Clinton is truly the woman of the working class. She's in debt and married to a hillbilly.
Blue collar all the way…
Then why does she ruthlessly go for Baltic and Mediterranean avenue in Monopoly, huh?
And why does she make it her first point to put hotels up on those spaces, viciously driving up the rents, and driving out the poor people to look for apartments on Oriental avenue?
It doesn't stop there either.
Where she'll settle for a railroad monopoly, she then uses her rent money from her first monopoly to buy up the light blue pieces of Vermont, Connecticut, and the previously mentioned Oriental Avenue.
So much for the poor finding refuse on the South Side of the City.
With Hillary, you either have to afford St. Charles Place, or you don't exist in her world!
Obama Went to a Bad Brains Concert in '81 – I heard on very good authority that, as a young man visiting Washington, Obama went to an all ages venue in urban DC and saw a Bad Brains show.
Vans gave me the low-down on Bad Brains. An all-black punk band of all Rastafarians. Many will tell you that Bad Brains was the best band to come from the DC and were also the most radical.
How well did Obama know Bad Brains. Did he most? If so, how's his technique?
More importantly, does he still listen to Bad Brains?
These are all questions that need answering. Hopefully, we'll get the answers we need.
Ron Paul Rack Up Late Fees Like No One's Business – Go to any video store in the greater Texas area, and ask them who their favorite customer is.
I'll bet you dollars-to-joints that you get "Ron Paul" as your answer every time.
Is it because he supports no tax on corporations? Wants to promote the growth of small business? Nope.
He couldn't return a dvd on time to save his ass. According to him, he has the right to keep it as long as he wants and no entity has the right to express control his freedom, late fess be damned!
He kept a copy of "The Devil Wears Prada" for weeks, and held onto the newest "Pirates of the Caribbean" for well over a month even when he KNEW that other people wanted to check it out.
Selfish to a fault, or a connoisseur of decent-at-best mainstream cinema? Maybe we'll never know.
Unfortunately, now that he's become a non-factor in the election, we may never get the answers we crave and the issue of corporate late fees will be buried once again. Another casualty of the manufactured corporate media.
- Bustamante is the current Tennis instructor at a swanky Newport Beach, Ca. country club/yacht club. Not much is known about Bustamante except that he taught junior high math for a period of time in the 80's, and that he's pretty phenomenal with a hackysack. He was good enough to go pro, but corporate sponsorship just wasn't there for the sport to get off the ground in the mid 70's.
My newest article at http://www.tontoandfriends.com - Written under the guise of burned out conspiracy theorist/local Orange County tennis pro, Bustamante. ---------------
A lot of people are gearing up for what many consider a major holiday this Sunday.
It's April 20. Known in some circles, in addition to calendar makers across the world, as 4/20.
It's like Independence Day for pot smokers. It's a day where pot smokers across the world sit around and get high, so it's basically like every other day.
The story goes that in 1971 a bunch of high schoolers from San Rafael High School would meet at 4:20 near a Loius Pasteur (who also happened to complete the first pasteurization test on 4/20/1862) statute and blaze it up. It spread, proving that at the very least, a saying is addictive, and there you go. 4/20.
I first heard about it at a post Vietnam War "End the Next War" rally in 1976.
What about the non pot smokers? Or what about the people who want to add a little something special to their party?
Thanks to realms of history, there's plenty of other things to celebrate, like the first pasteurization test mentioned above) on 4/20 instead of the magic plant.
Or, you can use these to enhance your celebrations.
4/20/1884 - The Pope Gets it Wrong! – Freedom lovers and potheads alike have plenty of reason to celebrate the publication of Humanum Genus by Pope Leo XIII. This was Pope known for saying things like, ""is quite unlawful to demand, defend, or to grant unconditional freedom of thought, or speech, of writing or worship, as if these were so many rights given by nature to man."
In his Humanum Genus, Pope Leo argued that people weren't created equal, revolution (cultural or otherwise) was bad, and that there should be no wall between church and state
What a toolbox.
So light up and laugh because he got it oh so wrong… or just continue living your life, also proving that he got it terribly wrong.
4/20/1918 – Red Baron's Last Stand – Famed World War I fighter pilot, The Red Baron, shoots down his 79th and 80th air combat victories, making him the most successful fighter pilot ever. He would be shot down the following day.
Far be it from me to celebrate a German war hero, but I do know that everyone's favorite beagle, Snoopy, was a big fan.
Therefore, I'm a big fan.
What better way to celebrate 4/20 than by watching a Peanuts cartoon?
4/20/1926 – Let There Be Sound – A pot smokers best friend can be his or her collection of movies, and in 1926, Warner Brothers announced the Vitaphone, a way to bring sound to film. Yes!
Just imagine what we would be without had there not been sound invented.
No Three Stooges. No Reefer Madness. No Cheech. No Chong. No Dude. No The Wall.
Plenty of good reasons to celebrate!
4/20/1972 – Whooooooo-hooooooo! – It's Carmen Electra's birthday! Time to celebrate! There's nothing funny or clever to write. Just look at the picture!
How are you celebrating 4/20? Click HERE to leave a comment.
- Bustamante is the current Tennis instructor at a swanky Newport Beach, Ca. country club/yacht club. Not much is known about Bustamante except that he taught junior high math for a period of time in the 80's, and that he's pretty phenomenal with a hackysack. He was good enough to go pro, but corporate sponsorship just wasn't there for the sport to get off the ground in the mid 70's.
I just returned from a backpacking trip across Europe with one of my students from the country club. Her husband went to Cabo "on business" and she wanted to get even by rediscovering her outdoor roots with a man who never lost his (me!).
You business guys may snicker at the guy with long hair and funny theories, but I get your women when you're not looking.
Anyway... that's not the point of this article.
I want to share the contents of a document I found in an English pub. I got into a conversation about art, censorship, and conspiracy with an old patron of the British theater and after several pints she said she wanted to share something with me that she'd never given to anyone before.
I thought I was headed into Schmooz territory for a moment, but was quickly brought back to the world of conspiracy and cover up. That's where I belong.
She showed me a letter sent to the Queen Elizabeth trying get Shakespeare censored!
So, check this out: this is most definitely the first attempt to censor theater in the world. The modern world at least anyway. I guess there's been Tipper Gores in every generation.
Your Highness,
My name is not important other than that I'm a loyal British subject and have been my whole life. This past weekend, I took my family to the Globe to see the new show by this Shakespeare fella. I was not impressed to say the least. I have never seen such filth in my life. To think that my ancestors died in the Great Crusades for this makes my stomach turn.
Is this what we fought for? To see people using the most vile language?
Oh, the words they utter from their mouths. I would have covered my children's ears but I was too busy covering my own.
As a result, my children heard every slang, curse, and jest uninterrupted.
They heard such pornography like, "That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man, If with his tongue he cannot win a woman." I'm sure you're just as shocked as I am.
What exactly is this telling our young children? I hasten to even think what an impressionable young man, or woman, would think about Shakespeare saying that the only way to win the love of a woman is to be good at eating pussy?
If that 'twere the case, I'd be a single shopkeeper. Instead I have two children and have to spend late at the shop just to put grog on the table. I never had, nor do I have now, the time to spend idly between the legs of a woman!
And now my oldest, my son, runs around the house at all hours like he's Macbeth.
He's out of control. He goes on and on about To-morrow, and To-morrow, and To-morrow and so on.
He jumps off the couch with his sword and says the forests is moving and pretends to see the severed head of his pal sitting on the dinner table. My daughter thinks it's hilarious.
Don't get me started on her, my wife took her to see this play about the Shrew. I thought it would be a play about a harmless bird, but no. Now the two of them tell me in unison, "Asses are made to bear, and so are you."
The last straw came two weeks ago. Alas, my dear neighbor, a Mr. Samuel Wickersmire, recommended that I take my family to see this "Twelfth Night or What you Will."
I should've choose "what you will."
It starts off pleasant enough with a shipwreck and the twins separated and whatnot. That's fine. I enjoy that.
But then… oh lord, then the drunks start to show up and girls dress like boys and then the other girl wants to… I guess I'll just use his language: the girl wants to try to make a baby with the other girl.
I saw some men in the audience drooling in anticipation. The saliva formed little pools of joy on the corner of their mouths. Their heads leaned forward while their midsections leaned up.
Oh my god!!! Listen to me! What have I become?
I brought my loving mother to see this show. I was embarrassed for her. There she was, my mother, laughing aloud at this debacle and debauchery, but I know she was just in denial.
If she has been affected by this man as I have… Lord help her.
I know you are quite fond of Mr. Shakespeare, but I beg you, please do what is right for England and the world. If we a stop to this man, we can save future generations from seeing these stories about sex and killings and demons.
What good can this add to the general public? Not much if my opinion is to be asked.
We owe this to ourselves and to our children. I know you are childless, but I ask you to view the world as your children. I am only one man but I'm convinced that this madness must end.
Shakespeare must be stopped before he goes too far with his blasted influence.
Respectfully, your humble subject, Harold Tittleman IV.
- Bustamante is the current Tennis instructor at a swanky Newport Beach, Ca. country club/yacht club. Not much is known about Bustamante except that he taught junior high math for a period of time in the 80's, and that he's pretty phenomenal with a hackysack. He was good enough to go pro, but corporate sponsorship just wasn't there for the sport to get off the ground in the mid 70's.
There's Donnie, and Pookie, and DJ, and AJ, and Jordan, and BJ, and Billy, and Danny, and Tommy and…
You got the "tough" one, the leader, the shy one, the baby, and the douchebag one.
Many refer to these flesh deposits as the New Kids on The Block, or N.K.O.T.B. if you're the type that puts the "urban" in suburban pasty teen.
Back in my younger days, let's just say August 1988 for sake of argument, at the Great Western Forum in Los Angeles (technically Inglewood), and let's just imagine that me and some the old TSOL boys – for the record I mean the old Orange County hellraisers, not the glam rock TSOL= fans (do any even exist?), decided to get drunk, drive to LA, acquire some tickets, and go to town.
Let's say we sold bags of chopped parsley and crushed up Pez to willing buyers. Let's say we openly urinated where we stood. Let's just say…
Anyhow, now I hear the New Kids are back! As much as the milfhunter in me would love to go back to a concert… I'm a bit too old and mature to return to my old teeny-bopper fun ruining self.
That said, I figure this would be a good time to help define and explain proper mosh pit technique should any young readers have a free night and happen to stumble upon a dozen or so New Kids Tickets for your buddies.
Some people think moshing is just mindless anarchy set to a back beat. It is.
But, anarchy can be lots of fun when you have proper technique. Even at say… a New Kids Reunion show.
1. Proper Footwork is key – You don't want to be some stumbling Neanderthal in there. You want to be smooth and save your energy for laying into people. When your turning the corners in the pit, you don't want to cross your legs.
When your legs are crossed, you're open to being tackled and knocked over.
Keep your center of gravity low, and try to keep your shoulders, hips, knees, and feet aligned.
When you do, you'll be bulldozing people over with your proper technique.
2. Don't Hit Anyone… Unless They Have it Coming – And by that, I mean if they happen to get in your way, they have it coming to them.
There's no need for closed fists… unless they're a Nazi. Then feel free to sucker punch them at will.
People are there to have fun, so a good forearm to the face, or an elbow to the ribs will be just fine.
3. Keep Your Face Protected – Don't be obvious about this, otherwise you'll look like a pussy, depending on the crowd.
At a New Kids Reuion show, just a random example, you wouldn't need to worry about this as much.
That said, when your turning corners in the pit, bring your arms up to protect your face, because the corner is great place to cheap shot someone. Trust me.
Keep your elbows up in front of you and your forearms up in front of your face.
As soon as you complete the turn and re-enter the straighaway, go back to flailing your arms immediately.
4. Pace Yourself – I've seen a lot of talented moshers get winded early in the show and either miss the encore or start phoning in their moshing, in which case they open themselves up for getting hurt.
Unless you're in good shape, you don't need to mosh every song. It's OK to take a song break and yell, "Get off the fucking stage."
5. Don't Hit the Old School Guys – Again, maybe not useful information when at an… I don't know, a New Kids Reunion show, but good info to have nonetheless.
Sometimes there will be a core of older guys with runny, smeared green neck tattoos in the center of the pit enjoying the show. Leave them alone. Many of them have done prison time, and wouldn't mind a chance to visit the old gang for 30 days on a puffed up battery charge.
Many of them are retired and only pit for special shows, like a Duane Peters show.
They may be older, but their technique (like mine) comes from the old school, lawless days of early hardcore where anything went and was encouraged.
6. Pick People Up – When you see someone knocked on their ass, you helped them up and shove them back in the pit. I don't care if they have a broken neck or are knocked out, you don't want them getting stomped because most likely if someone gets really hurt, they may stop the show and then no one has fun.
7. On Crowd Surfers – When a crowd surfer comes your way, you are obligated to not only float them, which is a major pain in the ass, but you are also required to make an honest attempt to take one of their shoes off.
Should you succeed in removing a shoe, you are then obligated to throw that shoe in the general direction of the stage.
Pick pocketing is frowned upon, as is cupping a feel if a girl is floated. However, should someone's keys fall out… like if Mommy's keys to the SUV fall out at a New Kids Reunion show for example, feel free to pick them up and fling those jinglers as far as you can.
Extra street cred if you hit Donnie in the face.
BONUS – How to Escape the "Fat Security Guard Waist Lock."
This is a technique that I'm really excited to be sharing with you. I'm sure you've seen the fat, bearded, red-headed, wannabe biker security guards with their tight ass yellow polo shirts tucked into a pair of stained blue Dickies, right?
Of course you have.
Their favorite move of choice is to grab you around the waist with both arms from behind. If you don't panic, you can very easily turn the tables on them quickly. Here's what you do
Step 1. Drop your center of gravity a bit by lowering your hips. This will put the bouncer off balance and make him try to lift you instead of thinking (Remember: People become show security because thinking isn't a high priority).
Step 2. Take you right hand, and push down the guard's left wrist. You may break the lock, but if you don't it's OK.
Step 3. Still holding the left wrist with your right hand, reach through with your left hand and grab your right wrist.
Step 4. Pop your hips out and turn to your left.
Here's a variation of this move:
..
With these tips, you should be able to survive your jaunt into the mighty mosh pit at any show you go to, especially a New Kids Reunion show.
I'm reminded of the words of the late, awesome Bill Hicks:
"You know which one is my favorite New Kids? The one who dies first! That's the poster that's going up on my fucking wall!"
- Vans McCoy was knocked out at a Dead Kennedys show in the early 80's and has been a cultural expert ever since. He has spent time in several small bands over the years. He sang for The Magnificent Cox, played bass in Manson's Ranchers, and was lead guitarist for Televised Execution. He's spent 347 days in local jails throughout the country and is now gainfully employed managing a local video store.
I’ve been away on what professional people call a sabbatical. You know, where you go to a faraway place and you "work."
A few months back, I was picked up by the police for the crime of "extreme loitering by a fucking bum" in the words of Officer O’Malley.
They took me to the train station, gave me a shot of something, and then asked if I wanted a "close to lethal dose of morphine." Of course, I agreed!
I woke up a few hours later stumbling around the streets of Tijuana!
I’ve never been to a place that was friendlier to the professional bum.
It’s a place of luxury for the bum with that entrepreneurial spirit. For the rest of us, it’s a pretty sweet place to live… until they kick you out and ship you to San Diego.
In fact, I made a ton of money and was very well fed on my sabbatical. It was harder to stay unemployed in Tijuanna than it was to just sit out on the corner. Even doing that would net you a few bucks. You don’t even need a cup or good supply of non-threatening jokes.
Here’s some of the many ways a professional bum can make a very good living on the streets of Tijuana, Mexico.
Just Taking a Seat – There’s a bridge in TJ that every tourist has to cross to get into Mexico with no pesky loitering laws like on the overpasses in Vegas.
Just pick a spot, relax, fall asleep, and go to work.
I initially set up shop and pillow next to a fellow professional who went by the name of Ben Dayho... or something. Strange for a Mexican to have an Irish/Itallian sounding name, but who am I to judge?
Ben was a harmonica playing bum by trade, but with a very special skill. Thanks to his mom drinking the river water when she was pregnant, Ben has a foot that’s three times normal size with only four toes.
Each toe was the size of a fist! Now that’s some skill set.
As for me, I told people that I was sent here from America by the police for loitering. That got a lot of laughs and got me a lot of coin in return.
There’s profit in the truth.
Taking your Medicine – Tijuana gets a bad rap. It’s actually a very healthy city. There’s a pharmacy and Doctor’s office on every corner, kinda like Walgreens is here in the States.
The medical professionals in Tijuana have a strict dedication to quality as well. One time, I was out minding my business when I was approached by a doctor who wanted to give me what he called, "A Superman Shot."
A lifelong comic book lover myself, I gladly obliged and got a shot in my buttocks.
The doctor stared at me intently for a moment and asked if I was ok, and if I could move my legs. I could.
He gave me ten US bucks and said something about some Padres coming down to fill a prescription.
"Step Right Up, Fellas" – Tijuana has a thriving arts and culture scene that’s on the cutting edge, but without the elite snobbery that typically accompanies such scenes.
I was approached about standing on a corner and inviting college aged males to a new production called "Donkey Show," which happened to star the producer’s sister.
I told him that college aged males aren’t interested in live theater, but I was threatened with a pistol whipping, so I shut up and took to the corner.
Surprisingly, the show was a huge hit with the guys, who came in droves. I never got to see the first half of the show, but I can tell you that the ending when the masked men with AK-47s burst in the room to steal everyone’s wallet had me in stitches! Interactive theater at it’s finest.
I guess I wasn’t destined for the world of theater as the show closed after a limited twelve-hour run.
The producer told me that he needed a new theater space and that he couldn’t afford to keep me on the payroll. I understood.
Turns out, another theater troupe, The CIA, was going to be taking over the space shortly… or something to that affect. I don’t know. Business isn’t my world.
"Where you going, ma’am?" – If you speak English, you too can be a Tijuana cab driver. Be careful, as they have strange rules for cabbies in Mexico:
- Don’t take them to the right place. - Double the price when you do drop them off. - It’s ok to run red lights. - You’re encouraged to hit wandering dogs.
I made the mistake of taking a couple to the right hotel and was fast about it too. A cop, who also worked for the cab company it turns out, stopped me and said that if he can’t get his commission from "los gringos" that he would take it out of my "Ben Dayho."
I asked what this had to do with my friend with the funny foot, and the last thing I saw in Mexico was a billy club coming at my face.
That’s what I get for taking a real job.
I woke up and found myself in the parking lot of a Jack in the Box back in the good ’ol USA.
So, why are there so many bums in TJ?
Because it’s so damn easy to be successful, that’s why! It’s like Wall St.
- Slocomb Jones has been a professional bum for over 50 years. In April 2007, he officially announced his retirement as a bum, and has segued into a successful second career as a retired bum and part-time bum coach/advisor. Ironically, he’s busier now that he’s retired than he’s ever been in his entire life.
Don’t get me wrong, these songs do fill me with passion.
Passion to strap dynamite to my skull and find a crowded place.
That said… not every song that sucks has to actually suck. You get what I mean?
There are some songs out there that no person in their right mind would like, but just happen to be really awesome. I don’t mean in some dipshit hipster way like saying that 90’s Euro crossover pop/rock vomit like Jesus Jones or EMF is good.
Some may say these are guilty pleasures. I say no. I’m, in no way, ashamed of loving every one of these songs… even though I will admit they suck in the same breath.
These are songs that make you nod your head up and down with a satisfied grin, and then you rip a huge fart.
Fred Bear by Ted Nugent
Why it Rules: An epic song that starts with a haunting bluesy-like guitar riff about a man alone in the woods…. To go hunting. Ted’s echoing vocals are at once soothing while imposing.
One part gun rights ballad, one part pseudo "I’m an environmentalist because I respect the things I destroy," one part dime-store spirituality all add up to The Nuge, a hard-core conservative, basically going gay for this Fred Bear guy.
Plus the end of the song where Ted gives Fred the plan for the hunt, and the real Fred Bear comes back from the dead to issue a hunting challenge to "some of our teenage thrill seekers…" to cleanse their soul is brilliant.
..
Why it Sucks: It’s so unbelievably pretentious. He describes the forest like it was something out of Lord of the Rings. He sings about Fred Bear like he’s some deity, when he’s just a guy who went out and shot animals for fun. I might be moved by the song if it wasn’t so funny.
Give the animals a weapon or kill them with your bare hands and then we can sing about you. Otherwise, you’re kind of a pussy who likes to pretend they’re hard. You’re the type of guy who lives through two World Wars and doesn’t fight… because you’re busy shooting things that don’t shoot back.
We Want Fun by Andrew W.K.
Why it Rules: With the exception of the 2 Live Crew catalog, very few songs are as up front about their message as "We Want Fun." Basically, it’s time to party until you wake up next to an ugly girl and you have a bad itch. Yeah!!!!
Plus, this song is from Jackass the Movie. One of my top ten favorite films of all-time!
I dare you to listen to this song and not have a smile at the end.
On a side note: The video looks like the greatest party ever!
..
Why it Sucks: It’s really not a good song. The lyrics are bad. The musicianship is bad. The vocals are bad. Whereas I feel much more awesome after listening to it, I also feel dumber.
Do you know? by Fiend
Why it Rules: If I was a fighter, this might just be my ring entrance music. The opening threat about bringing the dope and money is classic. The guy who just randomly yells, "Do you Know Who You Fuckin’ With?" seals the deal for me.
I’m picturing some borderline retarded 6’5, 325lbs sack of muscle that would rip me to shreds like I was a puppy and he’s the gangster version of Lennie Small.
..
Why it Sucks: The guy who does the first verse is bad… and not like Michael Jackson bad.
In the Ghetto by Elvis
Why it Rules: It’s Elvis crooning about the trials and tribulations of inner-city youth and the circle of violence that surrounds urban life. Poignant.
..
Why it Sucks: It’s Elvis crooning about the trials and tribulations of inner-city youth and the circle of violence that surrounds urban life. Overly simple and hilarious.
God Gave Rock and Roll to you, by Kiss
Why it Rules: You could arguably put every Kiss tune ever in this category, but if there’s one song that epitomizes everything Kiss, it’s this one. This is a cover of an old song by The Ardents, so you can’t credit Kiss with the writing credits.
You can credit them with the rad dueling vocals of Simmons and Stanley though. You can credit them for turning a corny early 70’s arena rock dope smoking track into a sweeping rock aria that captures the spirituality and passion of music.
..
Why it Sucks: Really? God gave us Rock and Roll? I’m not even convinced there’s a God, though I know for sure that there’s Rock and Roll? Don’t try to sell me your religious views, jerks!
I think Kiss really believes these lyrics to be gospel and that they are the bringers of God’s will, so to speak.
So, what other songs are officially awesomely lame?
- Vans McCoy was knocked out at a Dead Kennedys show in the early 80’s and has been a cultural expert ever since. He has spent time in several small bands over the years. He sang for The Magnificent Cox, played bass in Manson’s Ranchers, and was lead guitarist for Televised Execution. He’s spent 347 days in local jails throughout the country and is now gainfully employed managing a local video store.
Ladies and gentlemen, television has become a window to our own culture. It shows us things that our ears will never be privy to. Case in point, the 1960 Presidential Debate.
JFK
Richard Nixon
The deabte of the century.
This were the first of its kind to be broadcast visually to millions of Americans, who, up until then, received their debates of the sonic variety only. A lot has been made about what happened when the little red light turned on signifying the successful operation of the camera. Some say, this debate cemented Kennedy’s victory.
However, through an exhaustive research process, I shall take a peek at what happened when... The Camera Stopped Rolling.
ACTUAL TRANSCRIPT AS FOLLOWS
[TRANSCRIPT BEGIN]
NIXON: ...And that is why America can never have a President who is weak on Communism. I will open the door to China.
DIRECTOR: Ok, we’re at commercial. We’re back in five.
NIXON: How are you, John?
JFK: You actually think they’ll let you go to China?
NIXON: Well, that’s my plan. You’ve known that.
JFK: Yeah, if you say so Richie.
NIXON: Look, I don’t call you Johnny, I’d appreciate the same respect, Senator.
JFK: I’ll call you a bitch if I want to. No one tells JFK what to do, Richard.
NIXON: This is quite an attitude you’ve developed.
JFK: Developed? I’ve had it going on forty years now. Look, you want to be let in on a little secret? Richard.
NIXON: Sure. Though any secrets that are damaging might be...
JFK: Shut up. Here’s a question... what’s my middle name. Quick hint: it starts with the letter F.
NIXON: Ah, I know that one. Fitzgerald.
JFK: Wrong.
NIXON: No. I’m correct on that.
JFK: Common misconception.
NIXON: Well, what is it?
JFK: Fuckin.’
NIXON: Excuse me.
JFK: Fuckin.’ I’m John Fuckin’ Kennedy. What do you think about that?
NIXON: I don’t believe you.
JFK: Doesn’t matter what you believe. Check this out...
[At this point, JFK pulls out his birth certificate.]
JFK: Read it...
NIXON: Uhh...it says uh....State of Massasschusettes...birth record. Name, John, no this can’t be...
JFK: Say it.
NIXON: John...uh, fucking...
JFK: No G.
NIXON: Oh. John fuckin’ Kennedy. Doesn’t matter.
JFK: Doesn’t matter huh? You like movies?
NIXON: Sure. Who doesn’t?
JFK: The movie about me is gonna be way better that the one about you.
NIXON: You don’t know that.
JFK: Yeah I do. Two reasons. First, the main character in mine is far superior to the one in yours, way more charismatic, better looking and went to a better law school. Second, my name is fuckin.’
NIXON: A movie about me would be pretty good, in my opinion.
JFK: Are you kidding?! I bet they won’t even find an American to play you. Besides mine’s gonna be about how great I am, and yours will be about what an asshole you are. Mark my words.
NIXON: This is beside the point.
JFK: You know what else I like?
NIXON: I have no idea.
JFK: I like movie stars.
NIXON: I’m a fan of John Wayne.
JFK: Westerns, huh? I guess I prefer movie stars that have, I don’t know, what are they called...oh yeah, they’re called vaginas. I like those.
NIXON: This is highly inappropriate, John.
JFK: You want to know inappropriate. Next time you’re talking about taxes, you think of me and brother tag-teaming Marylin.
DIRECTOR: Ok guys, we’re back in five...four ...three...two and...
JFK: I believe my distinguished opponent was finishing his point...
NIXON: Thank you John. I was saying...
JFK: Wasn’t it about taxes?
NIXON: Why uh, yeah. I uh want to...
[TRANSCRIPT END]
There you have it folks. To those listening to the debate over the radio, Nixon was the clear winner. But to those watching at home, well, they saw a different story. Nixon would look pale and was recovering from the flu and had some five o’clock shadow.
However, what they didn’t see what just as important. Footage that remained a mystery for so long has now shed new light on one of the most important moments in the history of television and the world.
This has been...When the Camera Stopped Rolling.
- Bustamante is the current Tennis instructor at a swanky Newport Beach, Ca. country club/yacht club. Not much is known about Bustamante except that he taught junior high math for a period of time in the 80’s, and that he’s pretty phenomenal with a hackysack. He was good enough to go pro, but corporate sponsorship just wasn’t there for the sport to get off the ground in the mid 70’s.
angsty
rockin
