Professional Video Game Reviewers Are Full Of It

 

   

   Let's talk about perfect 10/10 video games. There have been a few, or so the "reviewers" say. But what is it in a game that earns it a perfect score? Graphics? Gameplay? Storyline? I guess it's all of those factors combined. I'm an avid gamer. Maybe I play too many. I don't know. Games are where I have fun. I'm married with children so I don't really go out to bars and clubs, however with the exception of the latter, I like to when I get the chance. So online gaming is where I spend most of my time socializing. I'm a loser, I know. Fuck your mother. Anyway, with the time I spend playing video games I think I have the necessary credentials to review them. Sure you can go to tons of sites across the web and see what "professional" reviewers have to say, but to me, their word means shit. I've felt that way ever since I read a review for one of the Tom Clancey's Ghost Recon games. I think it was the second one on the xbox, but that doesn't matter. The review started off with the reviewer saying that they didn't play "these types of games" in the first place. Which to me means they should'nt have been reviewing it at all. That would be like me trying to manage a baseball team. Sure I watch baseball and go to some of the games, but fuck if I know how to run one. I'm going to go into 2 games here, one of which I haven't played yet, but that's because it's not available in the states. Here goes.

    Grand Theft Auto IV (PS3) will be first since I have played this one. It got perfect scores all across the board and I have no fucking idea why. The graphics suck. Compared to most console  games today, inclucing those on the Wii, this game looks like absolute shit. But in it's defense, the series' draw was never based on graphics. It was always game play. I'll give credit where credit is due though. The basic style of the game is innovative. I think, and I may be wrong, but this was the first game series that the main objective is to live a criminal lifestyle. You run missions for people you meet that usually consist of "go kill this person", or "make that guy pay" and you steal cars and put every citizen of the city it takes place in, in harm's way during your escapades. OK, no other game has done that before this one. If you get bored completing missions you can steal any car you want, kill anybody you see or, for an added twist, drive around the city obeying all traffic laws. In this "episode" of the series there are mini games. These consist of bowling, billiards, racing, you can go to see a comedy show with actual comedians. Well, only 2 comedians; Kat Williams and Ricky Gervaise. You can even go watch a caberet show. These mini games aren't only something to do to take the monotany out of your killing sprees and general meyhem, you HAVE to play them in order to build your relationships with people you meet along the game. This completely takes away from the thought that they are there for you to have something different to do. 

   They added a new cover system to your gunfights in this edition. Personally, I don't really care. They say it makes it more like a shooter. No it doesn't. While it does make it easier to not be killed when trying to mow down a gamg of machine gun wielding thugs or the arsenal of coppers that are trying to take you out, sometimes it can be more of a nuisance. The controls are still very choppy and alot of the time, you can't aim when in cover to get a clean shot. So all in all, the new feature designed to make the game better, didn't really work out.

    The driving has been updated, but I don't know how. I still go careening into walls and people and cars when trying to take a turn at full speed. And if you hit the brakes to try to drift around turns, most of the time, you'll either spin around or come to a complete stop. Not too helpfull when trying to evade the law with a 5 or 6 star wanted level.

    This version has online modes though. So you and a couple of your buddies can go cause havoc on other players around the world. I can't eally comment on how this works, because I haven't been able to actually join an online match. So fuck it.

    I think people got caught up in the fact that a new GTA was coming out. I don't really see a reason for the perfect score in the game. The story is pretty much the same, but with a new cast of characters: This guy did me wrong so here's some money to go fuck him up. Not a perfect 10 in my book. Maybe the shit hole economy played a part in the perfect score. Maybe the gaming industry, which hasn't really felt the effects of the waining economy, thought they needed to bullshit it's loyal consumers into spending more of their money for another game everybody's played a thousand times before.

 My scores:

 Graphics: 6/10

 Gameplay: 7/10

 Story: 7/10

Overall: 7/10

   

   The next game is Metal Gear solid 4 (PS3). I won't be so long on this one because I haven't played it. But, some of the European gaming sites have given this a 9.9 out of 10. Again, I'm not sure why. It's the 4th in the series, so it's not like it's a new game. I like the MGS series of games though and probably will pick this up sometime and will be able to give a better review. However, I doubt I'll agree with the "professional" reviews. Already there are reports of the cutscenes being too long and like GTA 4, the time it takes to install the game is taking forever. Which to me is bullshit. I'm fairly new to the PS3 and if all the games take 8 months to initially load before you can get a minute of gaming time, I'll stick with my Xbox 360.

  Some games I'm looking forward to are Battlefield Bad Company (June 23) and NCAA Football 09 (July 15).

Giant Pandamonium in Sichuan Province

Endangered giant panda fetus on a stick is a delicacy sold at the Beijing Night Market.

Recently the 8.0 Earthquake centered in the Sichuan Province in China has brought a lot of attention to the highly endangered Giant Panda species whose habitat exists in Wolong, Sichuan, near the epicenter of the quake. This attention is not because of the ten Pandas missing or killed in the quake, or because the Panda reserve was destroyed in any way. The attention stems from the lonely British spinsters who paid good money to exploit and fondle the pandas, and who are running around the media recollecting their experience in the aftermath of the earthquake. It’s kind of sad to me that this is what it takes to draw attention to the plight of these pandas.

My hair is cut to look like the head of a penis. It represents the males I yearn for but can’t get. I molest pandas to compensate for my non-existent love-life.

Anyhow, while in China recently, I saw a documentary on the Panda reserve in Wolong that was unintentionally hilarious in a sad, disparaging way. It kind of helped me understand why a species like this would be near extinction in this day and age.

In the documentary, they had a female giant panda in heat, and two adult male giant pandas eager to become the baby daddy. So what did the panda expert do? He decided against putting the “alpha male” panda in with the female and instead, he put the sweet, docile panda in to breed with the female. His logic: Human females would prefer the gentleman over the bad-boy. The result: The gentleman panda ended up on his back in a pool of blood with his testicles bitten completely off. The moral to this episode? Nice pandas finish last.

Why didn’t the female accept this particular male panda, the panda expert wondered. Maybe she doesn’t know how to properly fuck. After all, baby pandas in the wild grow up watching and learning how the adults mate. So he created a panda porno… two panda’s fucking in the wild. And he played it for hours on end on a small television, volume down so as to not offend any humans in the vicinity, in front of the female panda’s cage. But she was not interested in watching this at all. So as the staff was removing the television, someone “accidentally” turned up the volume. And what do you think happened? The sound sparked the female’s interest and she got wet watching and LISTENING to the panda porn.

Now back to impregnating our female panda: take two. You only have one spare adult male panda producing sperm since the only other adult male panda HAS NO BALLS. Do you risk the second panda’s manhood as well? No, thought the panda expert. It’s better to gather the panda sperm and inseminate the female artificially. In theory, this is a good idea, yes?

So the panda doctors loaded a glass tube full of panda semen and inserted it into the female panda’s vagina. During the process, the panda moved suddenly and the glass broke in her canal, rendering her infertile. Brilliant. They could have used a flexible material for the tube but nooooo… they had to use a glass tube.

So without risking my China visa and saying anything negative about the Wolong reserve, I ask… why do you suppose this species is at risk of extinction?

Umm...

That's...uh....that's....yeeeeeahhhhh....

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Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull

Fuck You, George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, and Harrison Ford.

And if you don't want anything ruined for you, stop reading this now, because SPOILERS are on their way!

Let me start off by saying that I really don't expect much from George Lucas. Other than hitting the mark with Star Wars, and not the latter ones, but the original three, Lucas has never really done anything impressive. He's certainly not in league with Spielberg, who has a very impressive body of work under his belt.

But, Lucas WAS smart enough to collaborate with Spielberg on the Indiana Jones series, which during the 80's was an awesome franchise, and easily one of the most well known of all time. More importantly to me, it was one of the film staples of my childhood. When the films were released on DVD, I ran out to get the boxset.
There's a lot of nostalgia surrounding this series for me.

Fast Forward to May 22, 2008.
What do I do? I run out earlier in the day and get tickets for the 4:30pm showing of "Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull", so I can grab my kids from school, and run off to see the latest Indy adventure. I get a large tub of buttery popcorn, because The Master Cleanse is just a memory now, (although I may start again soon...more on that another time) and we take our seats.

After the previews we see the ever familiar "Lucasfilm LTD" logo appear on the screen, followed by the OLD Paramount logo...the one you would have seen at the beginning of any other Indy film.
AH, the tone was set...I was 12 again, and about to experience something magical.
That was until about 15 minutes in when Indy found himself being pursued by KGB in the Nevada desert, and was hiding in a small town that turned out to be a prop town for a nuclear testing site.
Do I have to say it? Ok, I will...JUST THEN, Indy could hear the countdown begin for a bomb test!
WHAT TO DO? WHAT TO DO?!?!?
Then, he looks at the refrigerator, quickly empties it out, and dives in!
BOOM! goes the bomb!
Indy and his Frigidaire, in the center of impact, are launched about 3 football fields into the sky and hit the ground flipping end over end.
Indy gets out...fixes his hat (because you HAVE to fix your hat after you've just been hit with a nuclear bomb..EVERYONE knows THAT!)..and then stares up at the mushroom cloud in front of him.

I couldn't help but think how many lives could have been saved in Hiroshima had they just known the refrigerator trick. I mean, when I think of the intense heat from that bomb...a bomb that BURNED PEOPLE'S SHADOWS IN TO THE GROUND...a bomb that instantly VAPORIZED people...if they just had a refrigerator to dive in to!!!!

Ok, enough sarcasm...that kind of cornball bullshit set the pace for the entire film.
In previous Indy adventures, he would find himself in situations that would surely leave him dead, *if everything didn't go just right*.
But in this one, even if they did go just right, his bones would be shattered in to dust, or...I don't know...he would be cooked like a Thanksgiving Turkey in a refrigerator that he was trying to use for cover from a nuclear bomb.

There was even a scene with Shia Lebouf (oh, who cares how you spell his name!)...swinging from vines, ala Tarzan, in pursuit of the enemy who were fleeing in an army jeep. If I told you that while swinging he made friends with monkeys who then helped him attack the Communists, you'd think I'm just fucking with you now, right?
You know what....I'll just let you feel better about it and think I'm fucking with you.

As for the ending...let me just say that Indy stands there watching an event that would be the equivalent to an...I don't know...F20 Tornado (Yes I know it only goes up to F5) that would have surely swept him away and killed him. His body defies all the laws of physics and gravity, and no...we aren't even treated to an explanation as to how.

George Lucas is a fucking hack, piece of shit writer, who has now fucked up TWO of the greatest franchises in film history.
BRAVO!

Here lies Indiana Jones.
May he rest in peace.
Seriously.
Meaning don't make another one.
I mean it.
Quit playin'.

How Much Is $40 Really Worth To You?

Christ, this shit is getting really scary now. Am I the only one who feels a sense of impending doom here?

This video was filmed by me yesterday morning...


YES, I know there's a crack in the windshield...it's a work van and it sometimes goes to unpaved places so I can dispose of the body....er....I mean construction sites...yeah, construction sites.

But seriously, would you wait in all that for $40?
That was filmed at 10:15 am...the gas pumping wasn't to start until 11:00 am, and the cutoff was 200 cars. At some point wouldn't you just say "screw this!"?
I mean, how much is you TIME worth?

Eh well, the way this economy is going, we'll all be waiting in breadlines soon enough anyway, so what the hell, right?

I call dibs on being the Al Capone of the new era when the depression starts!

How Some Things Never Change

In business situations it's called "empire building" when someone owns a process, and holds it with such a tight grip that they won't let anyone else be a part of that process; they hunger for as much power as they can muster up, in their limited role. They have a similar situation in the world of elementary school...however, there it's called being the "mean-old-bus-lady".

I went on a field trip with my son yesterday to...it doesn't matter to the story where we went, I guess. But riding that school bus for that half hour each way really brought me back to being a 9-year-old again. When the kids around me were goofing around, I was getting nervous for them--I mean really scared. I kept telling them to chill, to cool out, to mellow. If they didn't settle, I just knew the mean-old-bus-lady was going to catch them and eat them with some fava and a nice chianti.

What's weird to me: is the mean-old-bus-lady uniform. They don't wear traditional uniforms like the cops, military, or convicts. No, they wear the same uniform of the 50-year-old barfllys: the thick, matted mane of hair parted in the center, the gap in the teeth that's not a center gap but instead a gap off to the side by the "eye tooth"... But, the krux of the uniform, the essential element, is the snarled upper lip as you see them staring in your direction up through that crazy-wide mirror above the windshield. I know you remember getting stares through that mirror, you know the one, right next to the little mini fan hanging from the roof of the cab. I was watching her, and I know she was watching me; shit, I don't know how she drove at all without crashing -- as much time she spent staring into that mirror. She eyeballed up in that mirror as much if not more than she did watching the road. "GIRLS! THERE'S NO EATING OR DRINKING ON THE BUS!"..."BOYS, PUT YOUR REARS IN THE SEATS!"... It was all the same old shouts that I heard on the bus twenty something years ago. The green vinyl seats were still just as uncomfortable for an extremely-medium build guy like myself. The girls were still doing that hand-jive or whatever you call it -- "Miss Mary Mack Mack Mack...." and the boys were telling fish stories about their exploits in the video game world or or maybe with the class bullies. Though the lexicon may have changed slightly, otherwise it was exactly the same.

The experience made me take a new look at a lot of things around me, about how I think things have changed so much because of cell phones and HDTVs and computers...but when I look closely it's still all the same. People don't really change, what changes is just how they do the things they do. Bus drivers are still really mean, I think they'll always be pseudo-witches. Young teachers are still smokin' hot, I think they'll always give me a proper boner. And the school-yard bullies are still bullies, I think they'll always be buttheads, except I guess, now they use a keyboard and a cellphone to do their bullying.

Cleavage Etiquette

I'm not sharing any great insight with you all that dressing provocatively is much more mainstream than ever before. Shorter skirts, bare legs, shoes that show off finer points of the fine female foot, and yes cleavage. Cleavage is everywhere. TV, ads, in the library, in high schools, in the grocery store, and it seems to go across all age lines; all the sudden 60 doesn't seem too old for an undone button or two or three -- shit, I saw my mom yesterday, and she was tossing out the cleav for the world to see. My wife is a pretty conservative broad overall, but lately she's been showing off that fantastic upper chest fold, and I just love to just stick my nose in there and take in a big breath...uhm, strike that last line from the record.

Now, don't get me wrong...other than noticing my mom's cleavage, I love it. It's wonderful! It's a sexy sight for men, but also I'd guess it probably makes a woman feel sexier, more confident, as well as younger and more alive.

But what's the etiquette for men, I mean when checking out chicks that you're not banging. Am I not supposed to notice at all? I mean, you chicks are showing off the grandest of all canyons, one of the most sensual areas of the female form and I'm not supposed to look? Not even peek? Really? I don't consider myself a perv at all; I'm just a regular, normal guy. I'm not trying to look, but my eyes have their own muscles; they are naturally drawn to what they want to see, proper forum or not.

Yesterday, I was at a wedding reception. Picture this: I'm sitting next to my mom and dad and across from friends of the grooms family -- a husband and wife. Now, we're having good conversation...he's a fellow boater; we're talking boats, rivers, fishing...having a grand time but I keep noticing this fifty something year-old cleavage of the wife. The overhead light is casting a perfect shadow between these two beautiful baby feeders, all encased by the contrast of the tight, low-cut, black dress. (I don't even want to try to describe the push-up design of the wedding dress, I'll really sound pervy then)

So, I'm conversing, talking about flounders and sandbars and outboard motors and every time the wife chimes in, I catch myself sneaking a peak and quickly raising my eyes. The voice in my head is screaming, "don't look down, there's nothing there, it's probably hairy and nasty, baseball and dead baby seals". Anything I can think of, just don't look at those fantastic looking fun-bags.

So where's the line of good and evil here? Don't look below the neck? No, that doesn't make sense. That would be such a terrible waste not seeing all those beautifully painted toe nails, cleanly shaven legs, tight clingy dresses and that wonderful, mysterious shadow that creeps down the center of the chest. OK. How about peek, but don't stare? Again, this doesn't seem to work because it's easy to get lost in the majesty that is the female form...When drinking in eyefuls cleav it's hard to measure time. Using all of my problem solving techniques, the only thing I can come up with comes from the wisdom of Cory Heart, Sunglasses at Night and all.

So, women, let's keep this trend going. Keep the hem-lines high, and the top-lines low cutting and V shaped. (All except for you, mommy) But if you see me putting on a pair of ray-bans, don't take offense -- take it as a compliment. Understand that my future's so bright I gotta wear shades and also remember I was looking at your eyes the whole time. I swear!

Signs...Signs

As you drive the roads and highways, you see hundreds of billboards and signs...most go by unnoticed. But some are absurd enough that I just feel I have to talk about it. There's three signs that I see pretty regular that are just so insane that I just feel I have to share.

On my way to work I regularly see a PSA billboard that is split in two halves. On the right half we see pictured, a guy in a wheelchair surrounded by five women standing around him, all of them holding an opened cell phone aimed at the camera. None of them are smiling, they're just holding out their phones for a reason that really seems unclear. The left half of the sign features a solid black background with only one word, in the D.A.R.E. font, bolded and red is say RAPE! Now, I pass by this sign pretty regular, but it really took me a long time to figure out what their message was. Was this wheelchaired guy raped? By those women standing around them? If you pass by a little slower and really look at the sign you can see in a smaller font, under the rape people you can see a number for the rape council center, I guess. The whole thing basically goes unexplained. The thing that's insane about this whole thing as you pass by it at 60mph is that it's almost like a subliminal message. I've been a little more "take charge" with my chick lately, and I don't know if this sign has anything to do with it.

Another one is for a local restaurant -- Corleone's. Their sign is so hack, so horrible that I will never enter this establishment on principal alone. It may be the best Italian food for a hundred miles, but their little "funny" on the sign just drives me away. Get ready for it: "We'll make you a meal you can't refuse.

Probably the worst one I see regularly is the one at my kids' soccer fields. It's a standard diamond shaped, yellow typed street sign style with silhouette of a kid playing ball and it says "Kid Safe Zone" and gives the rules of the field. Of course the ATF warning comes first, no alcohol, tobacco or weapons allowed on the fields, uhm yeah...We didn't know this? Be courteous of the ref's and coaches. And (with a sarcastically dripping tone) And remeber, we're here for your kids enjoyment. Now, is this sign really necessary? I really can't believe that anyone would take the time and spend the money for this particular sign. Kid safe zone? Please. It's crazy talk. How friggen ridiculous is this country where we feel we need to place a warning sign to enter a soccer field? On the side of a coffee cup, maybe, but a soccer field, no.

The Cure For The Master Cleanse

Well....it's over.
I lasted 5 days on The Master Cleanse...but not because I wanted to stop....well, not entirely.
On Saturday, I awoke and began making my concoction that I had been drinking for the previous 4 days. I slammed a couple bottles of it down, and I was feelin' good! My girlfriend and I were going to see The Cure that evening in Philadelphia...what?...no I'm not the big Cure fan, she is. The tickets were a Christmas present from me to her. Not that I hate The Cure or anything, they're fine by me, but I only *knew* about 10 of the songs that I heard that night, but we'll get to that later.
We decided that we would head to the YMCA around 3:00pm. (by the way...don't care if you're making Village People jokes anymore...you need new material now, it's old. Seriously, I won't be that guy that let's you keep running with the same tired ass joke for years. I'm telling you that it's played now. It's called being a friend)

As I told you before, the Y had been kicking the shit out of me while I've been doing this Master Cleanse...my energy levels just weren't there, but this day wasn't so bad...or so I thought.
As I got out of the car and began walking up the steps to the house, everything started spinning and my knees started to give out....it reminded me of how I felt back in the day when The New Kids On The Block came to a local mall and I got my first "up close" look at Donny Wahlb....um....scratch that last part.
So I make my way in to the house, and start guzzling my drink....nothing is working and I'm starting to feel worse.
My girlfriend then demands that I eat something, but my inclination was to fight her like Tracy Gold being presented a sandwich by Kirk Cameron, while Alan Thicke is laughing at me in the background. (Have you ever seen Kirk's Christian Channel show, by the way?...Eh, we'll get to him another time)
Finally, I broke. I ate food.

Feeling a lot better, I got showered and we made our trek to Philadelphia.
As odd as this may seem, this was my first concert in 17 years....well, other than seeing bands at clubs and such. The last thing I ever saw arena wise was Metallica on the Black Album tour. Man, have things changed since then. Everything was so..."polite" now. Maybe it's because of the age of the people seeing The Cure, but it was all so well behaved. There was a guy sitting across the aisle from us, he was heavy-set with light colored denims on and one of those denim like button down shirts, but with white strips running down it...you know, the kind that you used to see on store shelves next to the Hypercolor and B.U.M. Equipment shirts in the 90's?
Well anyway, this guy starts smoking some weed, and people around us started going apeshit. "CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT GUY?!?" came from the girls behind us....I started thinking "Wait...isn't this what people DO at concerts?"
I mean, when I saw Slayer in this very same venue back in the early 90's, people were smoking weed...fighting...shooting up heroin...a girl was blowing guys for rent money and yelling "SINGLE FILE,PEOPLE....SINGLE FILE!!"...and people were sacrificing animals to Satan and shit. If you said some shit about someone smoking WEED, you probably better have called 911 to give them a headstart.

But this was something VERY different. People actually STAYED in their proper seats...no one was "jumping the wall" to get to the floor....fuck, I'm OLD, people!

Huh? Oh yeah, The Cure were good...I mean, they sounded good...like I said, I knew about 10 songs. Weird thing though...my girlfriend was wondering the whole time if they were going to do old stuff, because she said that when she saw Madonna at Madison Square Garden, she refused...that's REFUSED, to play any old songs. She was only going to play her new stuff, and she demanded that the air conditioning be turned off because she wanted it to feel like a "rave" in there.

Here's something to think about Madonna, because I'm going to pretend you read this...
1.) You're 50.
2.) Your fanbase is there BECAUSE of your old songs.
3.) If people wanted to be at a "rave", they wouldn't be paying $100+ a ticket to see your psuedo British accented, bullshit carny routine...they'd be at a rave.
4.) Do people still go to raves?
5.) I obviously wouldn't know...I expected middle-aged Cure fans to be hitting each other with chairs.
6.) Wasn't Friends an awful show?
7.) Enumerated lists are faggots.

I leave you with The Cure from the Philadelphia Spectrum 5/10/08

Where's My Shoes? (If they were up your ass eating a ham and cheese sandwich you'd know)

I seriously don’t get people who make you take your shoes off when you enter their homes. I mean, I can dig it if you have some kind of religious reason and such, or even maybe if you have some crazy Persian rug made from baby seal hair, gold leaf and scented with dried Cristal flakes. OK then I’m down. But fuck, you can’t tell me that you’re ten dollar a square yard, builders grade carpet is going to last that much longer with or without shoes trampling on it.

I spent the afternoon at a neighbor’s house for a Mother’s Day barbeque. I didn’t want to go, but my baby-mama pushed me into it, she said “aw come on, it’s Mother’s Day”… and besides, she already put out this morning, so I felt I had no choice.

As I walked in the door, I saw a pile of shoes staring at me in the main hall -- shit, I know what this means. I tell you, every one there had their shoes off, walking around in socks, crazy talk! I’m like fuck that, there’s no reason for me to take my shoes off. I mean, if my shoes aren’t welcome in your home, then I’m not welcome. That’s how I see it. I mean, what do my shoes have, the Ebola on the bottom? Are they contagious?

Just to the left of the front door and foyer area (AKA shoe resting area) was the dining room with all the food laid out. Hockey puck looking hamburgers, hot dogs, meatballs, etc, etc. eh. I was greeted by the homeowner, my neighbor, who was busy saying things like “help yourself“ and “my home is your home”, all the while nervously looking down at my sandaled feet -- back to my eyes, and back to my feet. I could tell he was wanting to say something. Uhm…er…well…but never seemed to get up the balls to break out the words asking me to remove my unholy footwear. Oh the sacrilege. I didn’t make it far, when my wife elbowed me to take off my shoes. I acquiesced , it was Mother’s Day and all. Plus, I think my bare feet bottoms were probably dirtier then my sandles, so I took a smug comfort in that.

OK. On to my main point in here. Yes, I got it -- you love your home. I mean, I can see the pile of shoes sitting by the door. You love your carpet and your stairs and your walls and your windows…but really and this is a big point here, I don’t care to take the “grand tour” of your home. I don’t care about your sun room. I don’t care much about how you chose the colors in your family room, and your stupid cliché aquarium themed kids bathroom shower curtain. And most of all really, I don’t care to see your upstairs at all. See, here’s how I see it. If I decided, on my own, to just take a walk upstairs to your bedroom -- say I really made myself at home. Maybe I decided to lay down on your bed and catch a bit of the basketball playoffs on your flat screen TV that you were so happy to show off to me, wouldn’t you get a little pissed? I mean, I promise not to lay my dirty, dirty footwear on in your bed…remember? You made me leave them by the door! So, if I’m really not welcome up there, in your room, then why show me it? It’s like showing me your wife’s vagina and asking me not to take a sniff. I really find the whole grand tour thing very uncomfortable. I don’t want to see where you sleep. I don’t care.

See, I’ve gotten to the point in my life where I’ve decided not to play act it out anymore. I refuse. Fuck it. Why fake it? “Oh, I love your curtain choices” “Great fake hardwood floors in the foyer, it really brings out the color of the faux wood cabinets” Fuck that. I skipped the grand tour. My wife thought I was being rude, but honestly, I think she’d be glad that I didn’t. And that was my big Mother’s Day gift to my chick -- skipping the tour. Happy Mother’s Day hookers.

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The Master Cleanse Fasting Procedure "As Not Seen On TV!"

Yes, I know it’s very “alternative lifestyle”, but I wanted to test myself.

I wanted to see if I could handle this because I LOVE me some food. All kinds of food….Italian, Japanese, Chinese, Mexican, Thai, Vietnamese, the good ole Americana stuff…hell I’ve even eaten escargot, rattlesnake, and alligator in my time and loved them all. I have the stomach for just about everything put in front of me…well expect for Soy Milk. That’s straight bullshit, and I don’t care what you say.

For some reason however, I’ve decided that I need to see if I can stop eating all this stuff for a while.

Enter “The Master Cleanse”!!

Ok, before we go any further, I should explain this procedure to people. Wait, would this be a procedure? Am I using a word incorrectly here? Eh…who cares, you know what I mean.

The Master Cleanse goes as follows:

You don’t eat ANYTHING for 10 days, and you drink this recipe:

12 ounces of Warm Water

2 Tablespoons of Lemon Juice

2 Tablespoons of Grade B Maple Syrup

1/10 Teaspoon Cayenne Pepper

So as of the typing of this blog post, I am 4 days into this procedure. (There, I used it again, and that kind of makes it law now!) So far, this isn’t as bad as you would think.

I’ve never done the fasting thing before, so that’s new for me. I remember back to my days of Catholic School, when Lent would come around people would “give up” things, but I *think* you’re supposed to fast, right?

If so, leave it to America to “interpret” things in the way it best works for them!

“Hey Frank, how’s it goin?”

“Sup, Pete! Man this Lent thing is KILLING me!”

“What’d ya give up, Frank?”

“Dude, I totally gave up Facebook for Lent…this is insane!!”

Before I get too holier than thou (get it? Lent…Holier…I TOTALLY went Biblical on you!)…but before I do, let me say I’m not even half way there yet, so I won’t clown anyone else too much.

BUT, here’s what I’ve learned so far...

First, this drink tastes awesome! It sounds disgusting when you look at the recipe, but it tastes anything but. I really dig it, but I’m sure I’ll get sick of it soon because anything sucks after a certain amount of time, right. Except “All In The Family”…gold…always.

Secondly, I’ve lost about 6lbs in these 4 days…which isn’t too bad of a sidenote.

The one downside to this is my time at the YMCA. Again with the Village People shit?

I notice that I simply haven’t had the energy to do the shit I did just a week ago. Now, people say that you start to get AMAZING energy from this a few days in, and I think today is the beginning of that for me. I feel GREAT today…better than I have in a long while. So we’ll see how the Y goes for me tonight.

Oh, and if you’re a caffeine junkie like me, the first couple of days will be BRUTAL on your head. I had pounding headaches from caffeine withdrawl, so if you try this…be prepared!

At this point though, this seems to be getting easier…except for when someone is eating around me. The second day was insane as far as that goes. I was so hungry that even McDonald’s looked good to me, and I haven’t eaten from that shithole in years!

I’ll give an update when it’s over, or if I falter.

You many now commence with the “HOMO!” comments.

Blind Film Review: What Happens in Vegas

Unlikely couple Cameron Diaz and Ashton Kucher discuss the things they

have in common, like same size breasts, limited acting ability, etc.

I’ve decided to start something new this week, because my opinion is so fucking important. Let’s see if it catches on. I’m calling it a “blind review”. Here’s a definition:

Blind Review – A presumptive, critical evaluation of something that the author has not directly experienced i.e. a blind movie review would be a review of a movie that I haven’t actually seen.

This week’s blind review is the vomit-inducing film "What Happens in Vegas”, starring Cameron “A-Cup” Diaz and Ashton “A-Cup-in-the-Pants” Kutcher.

Please keep in mind that I’ve only seen the promotional trailer for this movie and have not seen the actual movie, so my review could be way off-base. Like I care. Here we go…

This cliché-filled piece of shit movie is about two down-on-their-luck people who say “fuck it all” and decide to take solo vacations to Las Vegas.

The characters are actually not a far stretch from what the actors' real lives are like. Cameron Diaz plays a washed-up, bobble-headed skank who was dumped by her fiancé and is so fed up with men that she’s about two lemon-drop martinis away from munching some stripper’s carpet in the alley behind a strip club. Ashton Kutcher plays a spoiled, overgrown party-boy who is fired from his cushy job over some wacky shenanigans he pulled at some point.

Skank and party-boy meet in Vegas and end up shitfaced in a wedding chapel tying the knot. Fast forward to the next sober morning… the predictable dialog goes something like this: “Oh my god – did we get married?” “We did – we got married.” “I hate you.” “No, I hate you.” “I’m leaving.” “Fine. Leave. See if I care.” Blah blah blah.

As they are about to part ways, party-boy wins big bucks on a slot machine. Each one feels that they should get a bigger cut than the other, so they take it to court. In a completely unconventional ruling, the judge decides that in order to receive any of the winnings, they must stay married for six months before they divorce.

*SPOILER ALERT*

Six months later, they are about to split up for good, yet these wacky kids realize that they actually do love each other and decide to stay together. Suddenly, they don’t even care about the money. The audience learns a valuable lesson about love and greed. THE END.

My verdict: This movie sucks.

♫ And I'm Proud To Beee An Americaaan ♫

What the fuck, America?

Seriously, can we pause here for a fucking second?

Where did it all take a wrong turn?
The above is Bill Bramanti of South Chicago Heights, Illinois. Pictured with him is his Pabst Blue Ribbon coffin. He plans to be buried in it. I guess he's not a Budweiser guy. Or a good taste guy for that matter. By the way, is it just the perspective of the picture or is there an Oompa Loompa dress as a doctor, tending bar in the background?
If so, THAT'S awesome and this guy rules, therefore negating my entire rant that's about to happen!

But back to business at hand...where did it all go south? Where did we decided pride was over-rated?
Ok, fine, I've had my hand in it too...I mean I've done my share of drinking...maybe a bit more than my share at one point. And I used to have quite a fine collection of Iron Maiden, Metallica, and Slayer t-shirts back in the day, that would proudly adorn my overweight upper body as I drove around in my 1977 Chevy Suburban with 40s on it. I've been in mosh pits while watching Danzig perform, after downing a pint of Jagermeister on the way to the show, and then closed off my evening by hitting the Taco Bell drive thru and ordering 3 Mexi-Melts with no pico sauce and a Burrito Supreme. Then the next morning woke up pissed remembering that I didn't have enough money with me the night before to buy the "oh so badass..."God Don't Like It" Danzig t-shirt.
What? Are you fucking nuts, it would have TOTALLY complimented my Slayer "Reign In Blood" shirt that read "Do You Want To Die" on the back!
You CLEARLY have no fashion sense!

That was me once upon a time.

Today at the age of 37, I go to the YMCA to....huh?...oh fuck you with your Village People shit!
I go there to work out! See, I've been trying to slim down AND I've recently learned that my triglycerides are a bit high, so there!
I eat sushi and drink fancy cups of coffee that no one DARES simply call "Small, Medium, or Large", they are "Grande", "Venti"...or "Half Note" and "Full Note".
Ok, in all honesty the place with the "half note" shit was even too much for me to deal with.
I mean, there IS a line.

But my point in all this is that over time, I've adapted and evolved, and that even in my worst moments of driving around in that Suburban, blasting "Angel Of Death", and staring at guys through my mirrored Aviator shades (who were then at the stage of life I am in now) with utter disdain and a splash of sympathy for their "sell-out" status...even then...EVEN THEN, I never ONCE thought it would be awesome to be buried in a Jagermeister bottle.

And you know what the worst part of all of this is?
The Joe of 2008 thinks Mr. Bramanti is a complete fucktard.
But the Joe of 1988 that still lives somewhere in here deep down, wants to salute him.

I think I need therapy.

Neve Campbell Goes Topless In Her New Film And No One Cares

Seriously, trust me on this one.
What?
You don't, I swear.

You know what's cool about never having been famous? The fact that I never get to the point where I feel like I have to do shit that I really don't want to do, just so you'll notice me.
(So sayeth the tool who writes all of his thoughts out on the internet, right?)

But seriously, it has to suck when you reach the point that you can barely remember being on Party Of Five and the taste of Charlie Sheen's hog on Denise Richards' lips has long since dissipated.
While we're on that subject...what was the better video moment as far as those types of movies go?...

1.) Denise Richards and Neve Campbell's make-out session in "Wild Things"
2.) Phoebe Cates getting out of the pool in "Fast Times At Ridgemont High"?

Speaking of the latter, I remember being in a bar once and the band was covering "Moving In Stereo" from The Cars...I looked around, and tons of people were making the hand motion of jerking off because of the Fast Times scene. I was dying to yell out "Doesn't anybody fucking KNOCK anymore?!?!?"...but I just KNEW that at that moment the music would have stopped and everyone would have stared at me like *I* was the tool.
Just a bunch of bastards trying to stifle my moment in the sun, you know?

Eh....back to Neve....you know the worst part about this?
Still, no one will care. Sure, websites are reporting about it now like it's something of note...but really, is this gonna make anyone actually go see this movie? Especially if you have to sit through Neve's whispery, squinty eyed overacting, with those bullshit dramatic pauses, like she's lost her breath and couldn't finish her sentence all in one flowing movement.

You know what might make me watch this shit...if Neve Campbell and Lacey Chabert had a topless knife fight to the death, and the winner got to sleep in that tent in the Living Room on that bullshit show!

Or maybe watching Paula Deviq use her right hand to fight off her left hand because it's reaching for a piece of cake. Did that hooker EVER eat? How was that chick supposed to be hot with the body of a pre-pubescent boy?

Party Of Five was an awful show. Fuck You the 90's.

What the Fuck Happened to Clay Aiken’s Face?

Remember when Michael Jackson was a black man, and throughout the years we watched him turn into a white woman? We are about to witness another shocking metamorphosis, this time with American Idol runner-up Clay Aiken.

I’m fairly sure that Clay Aiken is morphing into middle aged lesbian. But do we really need another KD Lange?

Someone had to say it.