Sunday, March 30, 2008

The Specials Re-unite!

Wow. After years of...okay at best individual members touring on the group's iconic status with backing bands, it looks like we're going to be getting the real thing. Of course, Terry Hall notes that it is some time off, “Well we’re still trying to put dates together, but hopefully September/ October time. We need to spend the Summer rehearsing… I think it’s taken me 30 years to realise we could do it really well.”
While this is awesome news (and remember, kids Madness is back, too), keep in mind that it might just take a miracle to get these guys to venture across the pond to any place that isn't overrun with hipsters, record labels, and general douchebags. Fingers crossed, though.

Saturday, March 29, 2008

I'm Back

Albeit some may of thought that I may of passed away due to an alcohol induced comma a month ago at the rodeo cook off... alas I am still alive and kickin'. I don't have a lot to bring to the table this month. Work is killing me. All I do know is that my old college buddy Rick owes me a dinner at Papa's Steakhouse. Because the photographic gold that I know you scrolled down to is that of Lindsay Lohan. He insisted that Xtina would be the one to show off the goods first. Enjoy. Those are some quality chesticles guys...

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Richard Justice: Official Dumbass

It's well known that I'm not to keen on 99% of the Chronicle's baseball writers (McTaggert being the lone exception), I've really had no real issues with anyone other than John Lopez. He's a dumbshit and most fans know more about the players, their histories from A-ball to the show, and why his suggested position moves are pretty weak. And then, Richard Justice had to steal the thunder and make one of the dumbest declarations about baseball ever written. It almost seems like something Purpura would have told reporters. From his blog, entitled (blech), SportsJustice:
Woody Williams might be the key to the entire season. If he's as good as Tim Purpura thought he'd be, the Astros just might make the playoffs. For the first time this spring, the Astros have a reason to think Woody might still have something left in the tank. He gave up three first-inning runs Sunday afternoon, then threw five shutout innings.
Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Get ready 'Stros fans, according our local ESPN talking head in waiting, we pin our hopes on this guy. A pitcher, who until joining up with the Astros, was known as THE Astros-killer when he had successful, but ultimately offensivley terrible seasons. This spring, Williams is posting 10.70 ERA over 17.2 innings with rumblings galore that his fastball has no bite on it. So what if Williams defies the odds and manages to becomes our Wandy for the season (solid enough to remain in the majors on a shoddy rotation who can implode at any given instant)? That still is not going to solve our issues with walks, earned runs or answer questions regarding our depth and stability. And who gives a shit about him throwing a few shut-out innings after sucking at the start? That's not going to help us (Woody only has 7 K's this spring) when our fielding ain't exactly top notch.
If Williams is the key to a plus .500 season and a chance to hit the playoffs, we're boned.
To you, Mr. Justice, please stop with the baiting, smug and stupid posts on your blog. You can have all the theories you want, but as you have repeatedly pointed out, baseball is a game of numbers, and the numbers don't lie. So please re-think your opinion of Woody Williams' performance thus far and appologize to all the Astros fans that do know shit from shinola.

The Emo Cubs Fan

You have got to be fucking kidding me. I spotted this on With Leather yesterday (check it out if you want to see some of the pictures and the original banner before this pussy took it down) and have been laughing about it ever since. I don't totally despise Cubs fans (the Red Sox fan in me feels their pain at years of suckage and mind boggling fuck ups) but this dude is a total douche. He probably already set up an e-Harmony account.
Anyhoo, so this guy was with this chick for 9 months and decides she's it but then she up and bolts on him. So, he has staked his hopes on the Cubbies to heal those deep emotional wounds by winning the World Series. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
First of all, I actually want to read anything Jay Mariotti has to say about this website (I'm actually surprised about that, too) and second, who in their right fucking mind would count on the Cubs for anything positive? They've already had some problems this spring and despite the only NL threats being the Brewers (who certainly know how to tank), the Diamondbacks (offense, anyone?) and the Mets (they can choke but goddamn it looks like their poised to run away with the league) the Cubs still have to figure out how to not be the Cubs.
Hey buddy, wait til next year, drink some booze, start a band and take the WHAAAmbulance down to Victory Records.

Yes, I Dragged My Ass Outta Bed at 6 A.M.

After closing, heading home, then chowing down on oh so delicious and nutritious 45 cent pot pies and then hitting the Jameson, I finally laid my weary head to rest around 3 a.m. A few hours later, I was awake, watching the Red Sox in Japan until I collapsed just before Manny belted another double, notching 4 RBI's and securing Boston's victory.
My Dad, evil Yankees fan that he is, called me and woke me up right when ManRam smacked the hit and from then on I only had to fret at Papelbon looking like shit for the last inning. It was a nice start to the day. The Red Sox are 1-0 and I'll be sure to wake up five hours from now to see how Lester works out in fulltime mode.
I couldn't be happier it's baseball season again. Oh wait, that's bullshit. If the Astros looked decent, I'd be stoked. Somebody please murder Drayton McClane for the sake of the Houston Astros. Ed Wade is trying, but what he has been given to work with don't amount to a hill of beans. At least, Pupura is gone.
Expect an editorial bitch slap of Richard Justice tomorrow after I have taken a power nap post-Sox victory.

Was Metalocalypse a Precursor of Things to Come?

That is really the only conclusion I can come to after seeing this video.

And in case you're unaware of the whole Dethklok deal, here is what, I believe, to be the impetus for this Canadian marketing gimmick. Wait, what the fuck? How did Canada get more metal than the U.S.? Shit's gotta get more brutal.

Sunday, March 23, 2008

A Video Essay

Yeah, usually I like to write more but I do have respect for those that can speak way better than I can. This is why this post is dubbed a video essay. Deal with it.
From some reading, I have learned the Clash have been bastardized on American Idol (Simon Cowell has produced absolute SHITE in his career and don't get me started on those other twats) and that "Should I Stay, or Should I Go?" has now been co-opted for corporate whoreing. The Sex Pistols doing "Belsen Was a Gas" for Mountain Dew made sense since that band is nothing but whores. The Clash? Joe Strummer is spinning in his grave on this one. And if Mick Jones has any culpability on it, I will be truly depressed.

Now the quiet.

And the storm.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Oprah: Pseudo-Scientologist

Working at a book store can really destroy your soul when your customer base is a bunch of fucking douchebags. I'm not talking personality wise (maybe, I am?) because 75% of the folks looking for something to read are polite. It's just what they choose to read that baffles me.
I can deal with all the loser kids who have to be forcibly dragged out of the manga section at closing time and the tubby schlubbs who buy stacks of romance novels but when it comes to the self help and business sections, I tend to lose my mind.
We're all fucked up. And we all want to improve on some facet of our lives be it romance, finance or just plain old decency. It's frustrating to guide hapless dolts to the 40 Hour Work Week or any other get rich book same as handing people copies of the Secret and, frankly, any fucking self-help book. Let's face it, if there was a book that truly solved every common emotional or financial problem humanity deals with then my store wouldn't have vast sections of titles which directly contradict one another's theories. Of course, if I could comprise a tome with some pseudo-psychoanalytical chicanery framed by bland spirituality I would in a heartbeat. Sorry, but I would much rather hang out at Debauchery Central all day, slamming Jameson than trolling the stacks for Dr. Phil fanatics.
The metaphysics section is essentially what my aforementioned, non-existent, book pitch is. Never mind that at some point there were serious philisophical discussions on the subject based on Cartesian principals, it's devolved to the point of vague religious thought without invoking Jeebus or any other deity. But now, the only living deity we're likely to ever see has jumped into pool.
Oprah has embraced "spiritual-guru" and all around dickpig, Eckhardt Tolle's A New Earth and is madly pushing it upon her minions. And they're grabbing the book off the shelves faster than we can restock 'em.
It's frightening that any one person can have such a profound effect on a book's sales. Oprah fans (and mind you, one of my dearest friends is in this camp) are generally thoughtless sheep who eagerly consume whatever bullshit she is spewing as the gospel. See the sales figures on A Million Little Pieces if you don't believe me. Or how about her annual Favorite Things show? Companies gladly fork over tons of freebies to the rich bitch for her to gift out to bored suburban housewives because they know a kudos from Oprah will drive sales through the roof. Of course, if you don't give her shit for free she won't promote your product. I'd have more respect for the woman if she dug into her deep, deep pockets and PAID for everything she gives out. You see, she's no saint either. Couple that little nugget of info with the story about how she accused some European shop of being racist since they wouldn't let her in after closing so she could peruse the racks. I don't give a fuck if Ted William's head comes barking at the gate being held by Jackie Robinson after we close the store, they ain't getting in. But, I digress.
Tolle has done something remarkable with his new book which is to rewrite Scientology and make it easily consumable for the masses. Let's compare the ideologies:
from the back description of A New Earth, our ego-based state of consciousness is not only essential to personal happiness, but also the key to ending conflict and suffering throughout the world. Tolle describes how our attachment to the ego creates the dysfunction that leads to anger, jealousy, and unhappiness.
And now for Scientology: Scientology believes man to be basically good, that his experiences have led him into evil, that he errs because he seeks to solve his problems by considering only his own point of view, and that man can improve to the degree he preserves his spiritual integrity and remains honest and decent. According to the Church, the ultimate goal is: "a civilization without insanity, without criminals and without war, where the able can prosper and honest beings can have rights, and where man is free to rise to greater heights."
They seem pretty fucking similar to me! Both beliefs argue that pursuing personal interests is what causes us to be so goddamned miserable in our lives. Well, yeah, that's true. But the reason for that isn't our "ego" but the fact that we must encounter other people in our daily lives whose interests are not usually alligned with our own. This creates conflict and conflict causes stress which causes despair, especially when you're constantly beating your head against the wall. What I find more troubling about these "solutions" offered by Hubbard and Tolle is that they're telling us to become doormats. Become the world's bitch, suck it up and you can truly be happy since you have removed most conflict from your life by being subservient to the wills of others. That's just total fucking bullshit.
I guess the silver lining in all of this is that Oprah clings to fads and moves on briskly. However, this time she is having online classes to deconstruct and further explain this flacid ideology to people too stupid to not just see through the bullshit but unable to understand it. To me, intentionally promoting something that could further trouble the lives of the truly desperate negates all of her good will, intentions and philanthropy. And for Eckhardt Tolle, if I ever run into to that little Hobbit, I'm gonna punt his ass back to the shire.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Tom Wopat is a Singer Now?

Some marginal celebrity's find new niches to dig themselves into. Look at Whorey Spelling and her new book. Or the chick that used to fuck Eddie Van Halen. But when TV "actors" cross over into the realm of music...that is something to be astonished at. Enter Luke Duke, aka Tom Wopat. Yeah, the schmuck from the Dukes of Hazzard is now rocking the frat-boy guitar. It's like Patrick Swayze trying to be Warren Zevon and is an absolute failure. He should've just covered "Achy, Brakey Heart" and auditioned for Nashville Idol. Goddamn, this motherfucker never even had a career and yet he found the bankroll to fund this bullshit. Bo is probably pissed.
By the way, as obsessive as I am about music, I wouldn't have found out about this lameness if it weren't for some E.T. asking me for his new album at work yesterday.

Rick Sims Owns Your Soul

Name ONE lame band this cat has been in and I will gladly suck you off and let you post the video on RedTube.

We're Getting a Boondock Saints Sequel

I have no clue who in the fuck Troy Duffy had to blow to make this happen but he announced via youtube that The Boondock Saints: All Saints Day is now a reality. Some of you might be thinking, "Jay, the movie is a cult classic and has spawned more Hot Topic gear than the Misfits. Why is this so surprising?" Well, you need to go and rent Overnight. It's a documentary about Troy Duffy and his GIGANTIC FUCKING EGO. For the lazy or those without Netflix let me break it down for you:
Duffy moves from Boston to L.A., works as a bouncer, writes Boondocks Saints, in the post Pulp Fiction world it starts a bidding war and is snapped up by Miramax and Harvey Weinstein. Harv buys the bar he bounces at for Duffy, gives him a wicked deal including the ability to direct, cast, and score his own script and then Duffy begins shittalking every bit of guidance Miramax tries to give him. He pissess off Willem Dafoe, goes wildly over budget, and then Harvey pulls the rug out and he bitches and moans that he's the victim. Nevermind the fact that his crew and friends and well wishers are all pleading for him to shut the fuck up and realize he shouldn't be acting like the spoiled little bitch he has become. And then (according to Duffy) Harv starts sending people out to kill him. Boondock Saints gets pretty much no theatrical release and Troy is stuck back bouncing again, run out of the the business.
I really dig the Boondock Saints, warts and all, but think Troy Duffy is a grade A douche. Still, with the principals (minus Dafoe, wonder why?) returning this might be pretty solid. Of course if it's all shot in slo-mo to make the film hit the 90 minute mark, well...Troy better bone up on his bouncing skills.

Monday, March 17, 2008

Happy St. FUCKING Patrick's Day from Please Kill Yourself

2/3's of us here are Irish and are very proud of that fact. If you have a problem with that, then, fuck you. Tilt back a pint of Guinness, slam a shot of Jameson and get rowdy! We'll see you out tonight.
And, if you're familiar with me, Mr. Jay Debauchery, you know there is only one song that I could offer you. ALL HAIL SHANE MCGOWAN!

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Just Call Me Chicken Little

This has kinda been a clusterfuck of unpleasantness this spring training for me. Josh Beckett adopted the Eminem diet and is having back spasms, Schill is probably fucking done and let's add all the woes the Astros are experiencing just to make this shit sandwich complete.
Aside from everyone not named Oswalt being unable to find the goddamned strike zone (our overall ERA is around 7!), here are some recent developments that I can only endure because of whiskey.
Let's start with the Houston Chronicles coverage:
Astros second baseman Kaz Matsui is expected to miss four or five days after being diagnosed with a condition known as anal fissure. According to Wikipedia, this ailment is often caused by: Straining to defecate, especially if the stool is hard and dry, Severe and chronic constipation, Severe and chronic diarrhea, Crohn's disease and Ulcerative colitis, Tight sphincter muscles and Anal intercourse. This brings slightly amusing footnote to what is otherwise a dire situation. What is that? Have Loretta start, you say? I've been on that train before it left the fucking station, brothers and sisters. He is basically the only consistent contact hitter we have. For now.
Utility infielder Mark Loretta reportedly is drawing some trade interest from Baltimore. The Orioles sent a scout to Monday's exhibition game against Toronto in Kissimmee, Fla. Awesome. Our starting second baseman has ass issues, the shortstop we traded for just for the sake of his bat might get pulled from the show (he's not Roger Clemens, so he won't get his cock sucked by the government) and is quickly becoming a defensive liability and our go-to utility man for the middle infield might be on his way out. Can you see why I'm a little distressed? But the deal with Matsui's problems leads me to believe that he is not taking care of his body. That is job number one for a pro athelete. You shouldn't be washing your monster truck (Jeff Kent), getting the flu (the list is endless) or even hunting coyotes on your ranch (Nolan Ryan) if you are paid for the merits of your physique. I understand popping a knee when you slide wrong but anal fissures? Come on.
Finally...well, wait, saying finally brings a sense of relief or the end of strife and I just don't feel that way about the 'Stros right now. Lastly, feels more appropriate, as in the last insufferable detail to be unleashed to carry on the dread and the conclusion of a rant. Let's go with that.
Lastly, Lance Berkman left a game early the other day with some tightness in his leg. That wouldn't make me uneasy if the skip decided to give him some rest but Berkman, by his own account, pulled himself out of the game. This is fucking terrifying.
Oh, and, Chris Sampson didn't make a start because he had a stiff neck. What a pussy.

Monday, March 10, 2008

Jan Wenner FUCKS the Stooges Again

Look, we should all get over the fact that the Rock 'N' Roll Hall of Fame boasts more pop inductees that actual rockers but once again the dipshit who let his baby, which was once a vital music magazine (Rolling Stone), turn into a deplorable over-glorified fashion and political rag fails to recognize the brilliance of the Stooges.
I don't get how you induct ANY punk rock group (Blondie, Ramones, Clash, Sex Pistols) into that clique and continue to snub the band that pretty much started it all. If it weren't for the Stooges the Ramones would have never found one another just like without a shared fondness for Chuck Berry Jagger and Richards wouldn't have meshed. So, for Iggy and Co. I say, FUCK YOU, Jan Wenner. Die already.
On the plus side (and believe it or not there is a plus side for me here) Leonard Cohen got the nod along with surf-gods the Ventures. Cohen was an easy choice (and a right one) but man am I stoked for the Ventures. "Tequila" and "Pipeline" are genuine rock 'n' roll classics and the band, along with legend Link Wray (also snubbed), pushed the limits of the guitar in the rock 'n' roll world. Music would not be where it is (or maybe wouldn't have progressed so rapidly) without those artists.
It's a shame innovation and genius are so rarely rewarded while cunts like Madonna horde the glory. Sure, the bitch humped a stage in a wedding dress but what has she really contributed in substance, rather than aesthetic, to rock 'n' roll? Nothing. Madonna is a crucial history footnote in POP music and exemplifies the immediate power of MTV even in its infancy, but when it comes to contributions...other than inspiring a new generation of vapid skanks to up the ante, (Lohan, Hilton, Brittany) her tangible offerings don't equal shit. Like her own beliefs, Madonna was, is nothing more than a trend. She just managed to evolve well enough and cause such an intense initial impact that she will never fade out, no matter how many shitty albums, religions, fake accents and movies she devotes herself to. Now, let's all hope she at least thanks her gash for getting her where she is today instead of talent.

Sunday, March 9, 2008

Gammons Digs on Pence

While we all weep gently over our utter lack of pitching (anyone else who has been following the Spring Training games like me are searching for razor blades) Astros fans should take note that Peter Gammons showed Hunter Pence some love on his ESPN blog. He's named as one of the eight players that have really caught his attention down in the Grapefruit Leagues. He writes:
One scout says we should watch him only in grainy black and white video; that scout likens him to Enos "Country" Slaughter. He plays hard all the time, has that gawky style, yet is on the verge of stardom without any pretenses. Asked about crashing through the glass door during spring training, Pence says, "I'm such a spaz."
That's some pretty nice praise from the best baseball writer of his generation. And I'm happy to see someone actually give some kudos to the 'Stros instead of wondering if Tejada will wear the bracelets, Oswalt can handle the load or whether or not Berkman is gonna strain some random muscle again.
Now if we keep him away from sliding doors, it'll all be cool. Even if this season turns into one more painful reminder that McClane and Purpura FUCKED UP BIG TIME FOR YEARS, it's still gonna be a blast to watch Pence's rise to rock star status.

Friday, March 7, 2008

Jay Debauchery Vs. Across the Universe

You all knew this was coming.
A week ago, (if my fuzzy memory serves me) at Fitz, Across the Universe was thrown on the big screen and I finally resigned myself to watch the damn thing. For weeks, it seems like my work has been the only place in town that has the flick (I send out weekly orders for "rapid response" on the title which should let you know corporates interest in pushing it and the rabid reaction of consumers) and I remember, quite unfondly, when I had to FUCKING SUFFER through the soundtrack around Jeebus' B-Day. Everything I had read or heard about the film was this: visually striking but a narrative cluster fuck aka a shitty movie but a cool music video.
I begrudgingly took my seat and then came the pain. Across the Universe has to be one of the worst musicals to ever befoul this cursed Earth. Please do not take that as hyperbole because if you see me and get into a conversation about it, plan on hearing a symposium style deconstruction of the myriad failures of this piece of shit. Now, where do I begin?
Look, I dig the Beatles. I'll admit I have a way larger hard-on for the Beach Boys but I believe the band to truly define pop music (as it was in its former glory) was the Fab Four. And as much as I think Sgt. Pepper is fucking terrible (yeah, THAT topped Brian Wilson) and overrated like A-Rod, everything else is excellent. REVOLVER, people. So, my main argument against this cinematic travesty will be that Julie Taymor and the other filmmakers do NOT respect the Beatles at all. Yeah, I fucking said it.
Where do I need to fucking begin to justify that statement? Well, let me backtrack a bit and state my position on covers. I'm cool with them as long as they maintain the integrity of the original. Pansy Division doing Liz Phair's "Flower" is awesome. Dolly Parton doing the Fine Young Cannibals "She Drives Me Crazy" is not. Shit, I've even heard a few killer Beatles covers in my time. Check out the Breeders "When I Was a Painter." Or Ramallah's "A Day in the Life." Please, do not believe my narrow mind works outside the realm of re-interpretation for the sake of art. Like Lester Bangs wrote, rock 'n' roll is based on plagiarism. Taking shit WAY out of context to fit your narritive needs is something that is unforigivable. Just ask James Frey about that one.
Anyways, let's start with the Asian lezzie singing "I Wanna Hold Your Hand." That's a great tune due to it's inherent naive and juvenile purity (despite the Beatles being total gash-hounds when they wrote it). So why in the hell would Taymor sign off on turning it into a tragic, yearning soliliquy? No reason other than it fits the almost non-existent plot and introduces us to a character who really didn't need to be in the movie at all. Ooh, let's not forget the spoiled, over-privelaged fuck up frat boy who introduces his care-free lifestyle to the poor, working class limey to "With a Little Help From My Friends." Yeah, that's what the cats from Liverpool were envisioning when they wrote the song.
If Paul thought Michael Jackson selling the rights to "Revolution" to Nike was a fucking travesty imagine (heh, heh) his look of astonishment after watching this wretched garbage.
To make things all the more cliched, the two protagonists have been given the names Jude and Lucy. Yes, this is not a clever wink to Beatles fans but just another way to FUCK UP "Hey Jude" (this is my finale and why I'm flying to wherever the fuck she is to murder the cunt Taymor) and "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds."
But it's not just these horrible mininterpretations of the music the world recognizes as brillaint. Nope, Taymor has to constantly remind us that the 60's MATTERED, man. Half the audience at Woodstock is now bankrolling the Dockers expense account (there will be a post later on my absolute disgust of this generation) so that's a dumb argument to force on a generation already to hip to that bullshit. Quick question, baby boomers? Who was the band that played the '68 Democratic Convention? It was the MC5 and while they're good they even admitted all their jive about rights and revolution was just a ruse to wreck vag. Flower children, please get over yourselves. Only a handfull actually paid the price for their dedication and beliefs while the rest of you dropped acid and fucked like dirty pigs. Way to go.
Another HUGE problem I have with Across the Universe is that it is a whore for Pro-Tools. Look, music pics can be done well with the right actor. Homeboy who played Ian Curtis in Control was fucking stellar and sang everything you heard in the movie. John Cameron Michael recorded the music for Hedwig and the Angry Inch live while filming. There is really no excuse for having to use a pitch shifter for your actors unless you don't care about artistic integriy, accurasey, or have the slightest bit of repsect for the source matierial and it's fans. See, I brought it all back to my initial point. Looping rules. Allan Weisbecker has taught me a few things. And now onto "Hey Jude" which comes at the tail end of the "movie." It's probably my favorite Beatles song and in case you didn't know, Paul wrote it for Julian Lennon after John and his wife hit the splits. Having known that, since I'm sure the "filmmakers" are Beatles geeks, you should leave that the fuck alone. This aint't boy/girl breakup shit here, folks. It makes no sense if you truly understand the Beatles and their music to say, "Fuck it. It fits the non-existent narrative. It's going in." But, of course, as in everything with Hollywood, you have to appease the masses. The random crowd of college kids who never took the time to examine the depth of the Beatles at their peak would bitch and moan about that being left out.
So, we're left with Jude and Lucy being apart and Lucy's Vietnam vet bro tracks Jude down telling them to hook back up. How does he do this? THROUGH THE MAGIC OF SONG, OF COURSE! "Hey Jude" is then played out in Taymor's Pro-Tools, pitch shifter obsessed glory as a boy/girl ode piano. That's right. I needn't say more on that.
Finally, to remind us that the 60's MATTERED, man, it ends on a rooftop with Jude singing "All You Need is Love." Dear readers, I promise I could go on for eons about this shit but I have to go throw up and hit the airport. Happiness will indeed be a warm gun.

Thursday, March 6, 2008


To everyone who came out to Rudz and Fitz last night for my birthday, thank you so much. I had a blast and my ailing organs held up strong so don't worry about the after effects (for now).
To Rudz, Simms, Eric and Thomas, I appreciate you guys letting me get down on your turf.
My third mom, Carmelita, gets big ups for shuttling me around in my less than desirable state. You rule, woman. My fourth mom, Julie, also gets props for not bear-hugging me when I was bombed out of my mind.
The Jugend, always there when I need a shot of Jagey.

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

Sad News on My Birthday UPDATE!!!

Okay, please consider the source on this one but, if it is true, this is a truly sad day for fans of ballerina's rocking business in the front, party in the rear who tend to kick copious amounts of redneck ass.
Patrick Swayze is dying from cancer and has just five weeks to live, according to The National Enquirer. The magazine says the star of Dirty Dancing and Roadhouse was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in January and that it has spread to other organs.
That's right folks, the progenitor of mullet-fu is on his way out. Raise a drink for the man.

UPDATE: To quote Jeff from Coupling, "Totally excellent RE-SULT!" Swayze shall continue to spread mullet-fu to future generations! got the scoop and spread the joy.
"Patrick has a very limited amount of disease and he appears to be responding well to treatment thus far," Dr. George Fisher says in a statement. "All of the reports stating the time frame of his prognosis and his physical side effects are absolutely untrue. We are considerably more optimistic."

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

Whoa. How Did I Miss This?

There is a fucking ONION movie coming out? Wicked. Sadly, it's straight to DVD but it's been far too long since we were treated to some non-linear, comedic insanity a la The Kentucky Fried Movie. If you've ever watched the Onion News Network then you should know what's in the trailer is surely just the razor sharp tip of the iceberg.