Paul Newman: 1925-2008

Paul Newman, the American acting and salad dressing legend who once gave my dad the finger after JG1 offered to buy him a drink in a Connecticut bar, is dead. The culprit? Cancer, that conniving conundrum of killing that cuts down corn fields of Camericans cevery csingle cday. Newman was 83.

LeMar had P-P-P-Paulie-O String Cheese in this blog’s Totally Rockin’ 2008 Death Pool-O-Rama (In Color!), adding seventeen points to his already commanding lead of twenty-nine. That brings the current scores to:

LeMar M. – 46
Nathan C. – 16
Everybody Else – 0

Remember, number of points is determined by the person’s age subtracted from one hundred. I don’t remember what happens when someone dies at 100 or 102. The world explodes, I think.

This would be a great time to link a useful website Death Pool participant John P. alerted me to the other day:

Who Is Alive And Who Is Dead

As the name suggests, this database can tell you instantly if someone famous is alive or dead. Chris Farley? Dead. Van Johnson? Somehow, inexplicably, still alive. Curse you, Van Johnson.

The Wounds From Ghostbusters 2 Are Healed

According to Bill Murray, at least. When pressed about Ghostbusters 3 last night at some movie festival thing, the notoriously fussy golf fanatic said he’d be into it. Working on the forthcoming video game really jazzed him up, apparently, for the comedy sequel everyone and their mom has been waiting for since 1989.

It’s always nice to wake up to news like this. I knew the Murricane couldn’t totally hate one of his most popular works. What they should do is make GB3 and then sell tickets for some insanely cheap price like a dollar or fifty cents. The profits from the first weekend alone could bail out the U.S. economy. Who ya gonna call? Not Alan Greenspan!

Bonus: creepy homemade Stay Puft costume (no, it’s not mine).

The Worst Albums Of 2007

Like most human beings alive between the years of 2003 and 2006, I have a Myspace profile. I kept a blog there before I started this one, and you know what? A lot of what I wrote there was really interesting/funny/much better than the crap I’ve been writing here lately. So I’m going to begin intermittently resurrecting entries from that blog on JG2Land, so that they may live on in a non-creepy social networking/stalking environment. Here’s Zombie Myspace Blog Entry #1:

TOP TEN WORST ALBUMS OF 2007

Because my friend Jennifer asked nicely, here are my picks for the worst albums of 2007.

1. The Libertines – Time For Heroes: The Best Of The Libertines

I made my disdain for the Libertines clear in this slightly controversial Crawdaddy! piece. I stand by everything I said before; you legally should not be allowed to release a greatest hits album after only two regular studio albums, they sound like a wet napkin anyway, and Pete Doherty is a scab-covered danger to kittens.

2. Arcade Fire – Neon Bible

I liked ‘em better the first time…when they were called XTC. Great, now I owe David Spade eight bucks. This album makes me feel empty and sad, like Bud Bowl (or if I saw a literal arcade on fire). I don’t think I’ll ever get the whole mopey, depressed pop thing.

3. The Stooges – The Weirdness

They didn’t just phone this one in – they faxed it in. Telegraph, possibly. Pony Express? Much like The Phantom Menace, I saw the crushing disappointment coming a mile away here. Yeah, five rich dudes in their fifties are totally gonna be able to rock like it’s 1968 again, no problem! Assholes.

4. Insane Clown Posse – The Tempest

All five or six joker’s cards have been revealed, so now these guys are rapping about roller coasters. Okay, whatever. This actually may be brilliant. It’s kind of hard to tell. I have a feeling a lot of history will have to go by before we can accurately assess ICP and their legacy. For now, though, this quasi-Six Flags commercial can jog the hell off.

5. Avril Lavigne – The Best Damn Thing

This bitch makes Miley Cyrus look like Joan Baez. I’m pretty sure she lives at Claire’s Accessories and exclusively eats at Nature’s Table. If Avril leaves her enchanted home at the Toronto Mall, she loses all her special powers!

6. Poison – Poison’d!

Like being at the State Fair, only without the stale cigarette smoke and mild nausea!

7. Foo Fighters – Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace

The only reason Steve Albini called Smashing Pumpkins the REO Speedwagon of 90s alternative rock is because the Foo Fighters hadn’t become a band yet. How much more generic FM modern rock slurry can these dudes pump out? It’s getting harder and harder to believe Dave Grohl used to be in Nirvana.

8. R.E.M. – R.E.M. Live

How come there’s only like two songs I know on this one? WTF? LOL. No one wants to hear live versions of post-Monster material. You’re lucky the crowd cheered that hard when you started playing “What’s the Frequency, Kenneth?” Stop pushing your luck, fellas.

9. Rob Zombie – Zombie Live

I hate to dog my boy here, but this just seemed extraneous. It’s not like Rob Zombie is all that different live than he is on record. Call me when you bust out the Casio or the mouth harp, bro ham.

10. Rivers Cuomo – Alone: The Home Recordings of Rivers Cuomo

This would seem appropriate if Rivers Cuomo died six years ago. Seeing as he’s still alive and squirming, this ego stroker just reinforces the fact Riv thinks he’s the Brian Wilson/Syd Barrett/Wilhelm Wagner of gooey Generation Y fuzz pop. Too bad his maudlin jams come closer to some Muppety seventies bullshit (I knew there was a reason he was hanging out with Kermit the Frog so much).

Crazy Ass Dream: E.T. Aykroyd

Dig this nutty vision: I went to see what I’m guessing was some kind of cult movie – numerous members of the audience were in costume. They all looked to be wearing Sherlock Holmes/Jack the Ripper garb. I don’t remember what the movie was, but I do know they showed a set of trailers both before and after the film. In the latter set, there was an ad for the re-release of some non-existent Dan Aykroyd movie in which the lovable comedian plays a private investigator whose twin brother accidentally turns him into E.T.

Literally: Aykroyd 1 & 2 are on top of a train going full speed, they jump off, Aykroyd 2 (who has blonde hair like Dan’s character in Neighbors) pushes Aykroyd 1, there’s some big messy ecto-plasmic explosion, and the next thing we see is E.T. in Aykroyd 1’s place. Debra Winger plays the woman who falls for E.T. Aykroyd. I remember feeling let down about this trailer in my dream, because it looked like the special effects had been updated a la the Star Wars Special Editions.

Cut to the parking lot outside the theater. I’m wandering around. Suddenly it becomes apparent that we’re at some kind of early eighties California punk hangout. A young Henry Rollins is sitting at a bench going off about the usual kind of crap he’d go off about. I focus my attention on Steve “Stevo” Jensen, the original lead singer of the Vandals. He seems a bit lost and depressed. He makes me promise him I won’t ruin the Vandals by letting them go on without him (which, in real life, they did). I’m a little weirded out, so I leave.

The last part of this dream involved a thrift shop, but I can barely remember what went on.

What Was Jim Henson A Master Of?

The following story is true. I remembered it while I was in the shower this morning.

I went to high school with this guy named Jacob who kind of looked like James Hetfield. Some time after Load came out, my friends started this game where they tried to trick Jacob into saying Metallica lyrics. For instance, they’d point to somebody else in the cafeteria and ask, “Hey Jacob, is that your bitch over there? Is that your bitch?” Jacob, of course, was supposed to answer by saying, “No, she ain’t my bitch!”

As fun as it was, this game was almost always a complete failure. Jacob never realized we all thought he looked like James Hetfield, and he was generally confused whenever people around him starting saying weird shit like, “What was Jim Henson a master of?” or “If you saw a roller coaster called ‘The Lightening,’ what would you do?” I think I was there when it dawned on him what this was all about, and I remember that he seemed pretty offended.

Who wouldn’t be? Kind of looking like James Hetfield means you also kind of look like Bert Lahr. Gross.

Bad News, Willie

Just for shits and giggles, I visited the NBC Experience store at Rockefeller Center this weekend. I like TV, I like useless crap – it seemed like a win-win situation. I was actually on the lookout for something specific. No, not a Dwight Schrute bobblehead. No, not a “Heroes” action figure. No, not even a Brian Fellows t-shirt adorned with the hilarious catchphrase, “That’s Crazy!”

I was looking for “ALF” merchandise, but they didn’t have any. At all.

This struck me as odd only because there’s an entire section of the Experience devoted to hit shows NBC had in the ’80s, including but not limited to “Punky Brewster,” “Saved By The Bell,” and (ahem) “Charles In Charge.” Thanks, but I’ll pass on the cheap poly/cotton blend boasting Scott Baio’s grinning teenage visage. Where the hell was everyone’s favorite wise-cracking Melmacian? He’s been banished, it seems, not even allowed to collect dust on the clearance rack with the Donald Trump “You’re Fired!” t-shirts.

So WTF is going on? I smell a conspiracy. There used to be mountains of “ALF” stuff at the NBC-E. Seriously, the plushies were piled to the ceiling as late as 2004. If it turns out the Peacock sold Gordon Shumway and all his subsidiary rights to Disney, I will personally lead the crusade for Jeff Zucker’s fat, bald head.

Obviously the only way to get to the bottom of this is to hang out at 30 Rock all day every day and harass anyone walking by who looks like they might be involved with the network brass. As soon as I can find someone willing to do that for me pro bono, we’ll get started. In the meantime, please enjoy this “ALF” blooper real I recently found on YouTube (complete with hilarious Rod Serling, Rodney Dangerfield, and Psycho impressions courtesy of ALF himself):

Sarah Palin Shoots Chewbacca’s Father Just To Watch Him Die

Other headlines I considered using: Sarah Palin Attempts To Cash In On Rickmat A Month Too Late; I Think I Know What My First Tattoo Is Going To Be.

The above image comes from (you guessed it) Weekly World News. The accompanying article contains an amazing factoid about our second President: “John Adams was notorious for having captured what he called a ‘Skunk Ape’ and killing it with his bare hands on the White House lawn in front of a paying audience.”

I don’t know why I’m wasting my time writing for anyone else. I need to get a job with WWN stat. Do you think they offer full medical and dental?

Indiana Jones & The Oh Man, They Taste Like Old Cocoa Puffs

My opinion of the storied Indiana Jones film franchise continues to hang in the balance (last time I checked, the one with Sean Connery was missing some high-powered space lasers and a hilarious Eddie Murphy cameo). However, I can tell you what I think of the old dog’s cereal. I bought a box this afternoon because, well, I wanted something interesting to happen before I went to bed tonight.

No good, Docta Jones!

As I mentioned in the title of this post, Indy’s breakfast concoction tastes like all the Cocoa Puffs that fell off the line and got swept up by Stinky the Janitor. Could the lack of flavor have something to do with the fact this crap has been sitting on the shelf of my local grocery store since late June? Probably not. This is the 21st Century. Cereal doesn’t spoil and cause famines any more like it used to in olden times.

The label seems to suggest there are four kinds of marshmallows waiting to be discovered in INDIANA JONES: THE CEREAL!, but I think the box I bought literally contains only four marshmallows. I saw but one “Crystal Skull” floating in the bowl I just had. Funnily enough, one of the marshmallow shapes is supposed to be Indy’s fedora. Because that’s what every kid wants to pretend they’re eating at breakfast every morning – the old, worn out hat of some sweaty archaeologist from the 1930s.

Wanna see something scary? Look at the young, vibrant Harrison Ford depiction on the front of the box:

Now that’s the Indiana Jones millions of women want to have sex with. Now take a look at the real photo of Indy taken from Kingdom of the Crystal Skull on the back of the box:

Jesus Christ. Couldn’t they find one where he didn’t look like Toothless Joe, King of the Box Cars? Stay away from my sammich, Gimpy Lou! I’ll fix you good once we get to Tuscon!

That concludes this session of “JG2 Rags On Some Commercial Product That Was Interesting And Topical Four Months Ago.” Join me tomorrow when I bust on the Dark Knight Slurpees I’m sure 7-11 was offering this Summer. Blueberry Batpod? Fuck you, Corporate America!

Unsolicited Caddyshack Review

Caddyshack
Starring: Chevy Chase, Rodney Dangerfield, Ted Knight
Directed by Harold Ramis
1980

Ah, Caddyshack. The ultimate golf movie. A cinematic postcard of a simpler time, a time when Chevy Chase was still a fresh new face on the Hollywood scene, a time when Brian Doyle-Murray still had some color in his hair, a time when it was perfectly acceptable to bookend a major motion picture with scenes of a fake gopher dancing suggestively to the music of Kenny Loggins. How I long for those days. If you ask me, there just aren’t enough creepy rodent puppets squirming around to Reagan-era soft rock in any medium today (film, television, theater, professional billiards, etc).

So this movie is basically ninety-eight minutes of Chevy Chase being Chevy Chase (asshole), Rodney Dangerfield being Rodney Dangerfield (loud asshole), Ted Knight being Ted Knight (rich asshole), and some half-baked subplot about a young caddy’s college dreams thrown in for good measure. Bill Murray’s in there too, of course, doing his now-famous Carl Spackler character. Oh, and the aforementioned gopher, truly an achievement in the field of ground squirrel anthropomorphication.

I’m not knocking this formula – it was obviously the right one to produce a cult classic. However, with most of the actors basically playing themselves, it’s kind of hard to become engrossed in Caddyshack. You sit there watching it and think, Man, when exactly did Chevy Chase stop being funny? or I wonder if Ted Knight was like that in real life. Rarely do you say to yourself, Gee, I hope Ty and Al knock the stuffing out of Judge Smails and Dr. Beeper in the big game! The plot kind of fades into the background when you have Rodney Dangerfield saying shit like, “I almost got head from Amelia Earhart!”

The young caddy angling for a scholarship from Knight’s uptight judge character is played by curly-haired “Waltons” vet Michael O’Keefe. O’Keefe, it should be noted, went on land such plum roles as Sgt. Mike Fitzgerald in the 1988 made-for-TV flick “Disaster at Silo 7″ and Jackie Conner’s long-suffering boyfriend Fred on the popular “Roseanne” program (yes, I purposely called it “the popular ‘Roseanne’ program”). O’Keefe is likable enough in Caddyshack, but it’s easy to see why he never exploded in the same way as a Tom Cruise or a Ralph Macchio. He just lacked that je ne sais quoi a true star possesses. He also had that horrible white guy ‘fro. Mike’s been on “Law & Order” a handful of times in recent years, so don’t worry, he’s still working.

The rest of Caddyshack’s minor players never really amounted to much, except for Cindy Morgan (who played Lora in TRON) and Scott Colomby (that son of a bitch was in all three Porky’s movies AND an episode of “The A-Team” – Tony D’Annunzio FTW!!). Heck, for a lot of these folks, Caddyshack would be their only credit. Can you believe Hollywood ignored the talents of John Barmon, Jr., a.k.a. Spaulding Smails? I’m really only half-joking! That kid was kinda funny! Surely Paige Coffman, the little girl who screamed, “DOODIE!” during the infamous pool bit, could have parlayed her brief moment in the sun into at least one game show appearance. Not even the woman who played Ted Knight’s wife went on to do anything else. Goddammit! So many wasted opportunities.

Caddyshack holds up pretty well all these years later despite some painfully executed fart/crotch jokes and just a smidge of unnecessary race humor (did Rodney Dangerfield really need a camera-happy Asian companion named Wang?). Chevy Chase has some great one-liners, I enjoyed seeing Cindy Morgan’s nipples, and who can ever argue with a film that prominently features Journey’s “Any Way You Want It?” This is one DVD I do not regret owning (as opposed to The WWE’s Greatest Ringside Injuries Volume 2: Mercy Takes A Holiday).

Final Score: Three Shunununununununas (out of four).

Remember that time I said I was going to come up with a unique unit of measurement for these reviews? I fucking LIED.

Shout Out To Ben Ditzler

He knows what for.

Sorry this took so long to process, Ben. The city, she can wipe a man’s memory clean if he isn’t paying attention (and I clearly wasn’t).