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Mike Reyes, aka Mr. Controversy, has considered himself a writer ever since he was a child. He wrote for various school publications from about 1995 until 2006, and currently runs both The Bookish Kind and Mr. Controversy, which is an offshoot of the regular column he wrote in High School. He's also authored several short stories such as "The Devil's Comedian", "The Devil v. George W. Bush", and most recently "Wait Until Tomorrow". He resides in New Jersey. Any inquiries for reprinting, writing services, or general contact, should be forwarded to: michaelreyes72@hotmail.com

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Thursday, July 31, 2008

Epic Failure of the Day

Hey kids, wanna buy a poster for the shittiest movie of the summer signed by Carmen Elektra and Kim Kardashian? Funny, neither does anyone else. Ebay is running four different auctions for said item for the Elisabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation. Who's drug induced idea was this?! To think that Carmen Elektra and Kim Kardashian are popular enough to not only be a box office draw, but also to be able to raise money for a charitable cause. If these auctions raise any money, it'll be because people believe in giving to charity...and what says charity like giving money to the retarded?! (Again, this is the usage of the word retarded as according to popular vernacular. I am not making fun of anyone who's mentally disabled in any way, suck it bitches.) The retarded being the people who made Disaster Movie, mind you. I'd like to see this make a decent amount of coin, because AIDS research is something that is continually advancing, and lengthening lives every day. I just think they should have went with a better item for auction. I say, they should have gotten a signed Dark Knight poster, dipped in Gold, and breathed on by Sir Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman themselves. THAT would have raised money.

I will say this though, the new TV spot has done one thing right...they kill Paulie Bleeker from Juno. Ah, Paulie...you poor, castrated manboy. You finally escaped the hell that is Juno MacGuff. A flight of dancing condors sing the to thy rest. So, here's a list of the reasons why you "should" see Disaster Movie:

- You LOVE movie catchphrases being mocked in horrific ways.

- You LOVE seeing movies being reduced to said catchphrases, and being mocked by vulgarity and slapstick violence. (i.e. cows being dropped, clothing being ripped, people being stomped by elephants, and babies kicking horsefaced people in the face.)

- You LOVE the movie 10,000 BC.

- You LOVE the thought of Amy Winehouse as an alcoholic Sabretoothed Tiger who drinks and eats babys.

- You LOVE when superheroes are mocked by a shoestring budget costume that even a kid from the ghetto would say is poorly constructed.

- You LOVE bottom of the barrel dialogue that point blank explains what they're making fun of. ("What is this Enchanting place?" ::taxi cab::)

- You LOVE Carmen Elektra and Kim Kardashian

- You LOVE Tony Cox and how he manages to "make everything funny" merely by being a black midget who's cast in iconic roles. (This time, he's Indiana Jones.)

- You LOVE getting gangraped in the eyes and ears and keep seeing shitty films like this.

If you don't LOVE all of that, then frankly you need not apply. If you do, get ready for the fun! (::sarcasm off::)

I was once told my by my girlfriend's sister that, "Some movies exist just because they have to exist...like Sex and the City and Mamma Mia." No...no they don't. They waste money that could fund truly original movies and they waste money that could be put to other uses. They waste the space that could be occupied by the next Citizen Kane, they waste the space they occupy on DVD shelves, and most importantly they waste the time, sight, hearing, and minds of all who see them. To some it is a willing theft, to others it is nothing more than a blight on this very land we live in. I say stop it now! Knock the shit off Hollywood, and give us some real fucking product! Or you know what...we'll stop going to the movies all together.

In fact...I think that should happen. The weekend of August 29th, DON'T SEE ANYTHING! Don't see anything in the theatres in honor of the shitfest that is Disaster Movie. Don't let anyone drag you to it. If you're a parent, ground your kids. If you're a kid, get some fucking common sense. If you're a twenty something, start growing a goddamn brain. If you're an elderly person, you wouldn't see this anyway, it'd be too loud and crass. If you're anywhere in between, read a book! Maybe if none of the movies of Hollywood gross anything that weekend, then people will see what truly needs to be done. I encourage an Audience Strike. If Hollywood can threaten to strike or strike, leaving us with this dreck as "entertainment", then fuck them. They answer to us: the audience. That's their excuse for hampering original works, "It won't sell with Middle America", "People loved this movie, let's make twenty more like it", "I don't think that'll play with the Christian right". So since we have such pull that we didn't even know about, let's use it. When you see a movie like Disaster Movie (which isn't well received at all) getting a wider release than Midnight Meat Train (which has horror film junkies foaming at the mouth, and is getting unceremoniously dumped in bargain theatres for its opening run) just think to yourself...What Would The Joker Do? Answer: He's put a smile on the face of those responcible and cause havoc in Hollywood. Don't go to the movies on August 29th, and protest the Unethical Treatment of the Moviegoing Public.

As a parting gift, Sir Michael Caine and Steve Martin will be inviting everyone for drinks; which would be another, much better way of raising money for a charitable cause that deserves every penny it can get.

FINAL NOTE UPDATE: It looks like Lionsgate in general is organizing these auctions, because posters from The Spirit are also being auctioned off. Do the kids a favor, go for these posters instead. Think of a bid you'd make, then double it, so as to compensate for the lack of bids for the Disaster Movie posters. Or maybe we could bid on who gets to set them on fire. Behold, The Spirit auction...http://www.superherohype.com/news/spiritnews.php?id=7556

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Fear and Loathing in Corporate America or The Great Polo Shirted Hunter on Safari

All persons alluded to are fictional representations based on actual persons. This story is a 98% original fever dream arising from my boredom. (2% goes to Dave B. for his suggestion, which is actually quoted in here, so hope you approve Dave.) None of this happened, I don't believe in corporate vultures, despite what the media tells us, and I'm perfectly sane. I didn't do it, I just wrote it.

Boredom. Fucking boredom. It hurts like the stings of a thousand needles, pointless pricks that exist just to torture your very existence. Days like these are never easy, and every day is like the other. Lunch is the only thing that's different.

Another resident of this cesspool of banality approaches me, "I have a new closeout for you."

Let's get one thing straight, I like the people here. They're nice and I coexist with them fine. It's just sometimes the work and the boredom are so engrained into my head that I see someone approach with something new and think, "Oh God, what the fuck's expected of me now."

I'll smile and reply, "No problem. I can have it done in no time."

Desperate times these be, and as such I'll actually pounce on any work I can when there's nothing interesting on the Internet. What kind of depraved environment breeds people that are eager to work, desperate to work, even...fucking happy to work? Jesus Christ, this isn't fucking Disney World! Everyone isn't walking around with pasted smiles and Mickey Mouse ears and singing It's A Small Goddamn World After Fucking All! This is a place of work, you sons-of-bitches! People are supposed to dread work.

Conspiracy firmly planted in mind, and work done, I turn to the old entertainment standby...DVDs. I was working on watching the entire series of Frasier, but that started to get boring around season 8 out of 11. I started watching Damages and Alias, but not only is it hard to keep up with densely ploted hourlongs while clicking through the Internet (and hiding the DVD window thanks to that deep seated paranoia I'll be found out and reprimanded) but I actually finished them! So I moved on. I started watching The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles, and let me tell you if it doesn't get better I'll have to stop watching it. Patton Oswalt was right, I don't care where my favorite archiologist came from, I just want him to whip some fucking snakes!

I try to keep the volume down when watching such programs, simply because I don't think my hallmate wants to hear gunfire, legalise, Ivy League snobbery, or if I'm watching Doctor Who, British people yelling. She's a good person, and I consider her a friend, but lately she seems as if she's thinking, "Why is he watching TV at work? Who the fuck does he think he is to do that? Also, did I hear gunfire in there? Is he going to snap one day and hurt us all?"

No, friend, I will not snap and hurt any one in this office. Humans are sacred...corporate vultures on the other hand are easy to imagine, and easier to hunt. What are corporate vultures you ask?! Mean, vicious birds out of my bored/sleep deprived imagination. Huge fuckers with giant wingspans and corporate logos on their chests, spouting their company's slogan of choice as propaganda to the masses. These bastards needed to go down, and go down they would, for I am the Great Polo Shirted Hunter - and it's about time I got up off my ass and clocked some steps on my pedometer. Steps of justice.
No guns or knives would be involved in this fight...just a stapler, a pack of post-its, my mouse, 4 toner cartridges, my lookout window as a lookout window, a ream of 11x17 paper, 5 Bic pens of various colors and sizes and a hole puncher. (Single, not the big metal 3 hole punch.) A Concrete-Jungle Safari Kit. If a Corporate Vulture is going down, it's going to be big and vicious, a bloodsport until the end. My directive given, I set out on the hunt.

Dressed with my polo shirt, khakis, black shoes, and a pith helmet; I set out to bag a corporate vulture, maybe even take down the whole damn nest if I had to. Which I did. Stapler in hand, I plucked a Bic of my bandelero, bit off the cap, and tossed it down the hall outside of my office. The smoke that'd issue forth would flush out that vulture in no time. In the meantime, I cracked open a toner cartridge and smeared some ink on my face. Why ink you ask? To protect me from Logo Poisoning.
Logo Poisoning is simple. The logo on the Corporate Vulture is the source of its power. It feeds off of the capitalistic greed and "fuck the consumer" mentality, and it outputs a poison coursing through its logo that infects whomever is bitten. This is how people "sell out to 'The Man'", their blood is so filled with the toxic logo poisoning that it changes them into a corporate shill. I was bound and determined not to sell out, and not to get logo poisoning, so just as an extra precaution, I added some White Out to my war paint palette. It was go time.
Just as I stepped out of my office into the think Bic smoke, the lunch delivery arrived. The Delivery Woman asked if I was the receipient of today's bounty. I told her, "No, but I can pay for it." Big mistake, for the Corporate Vulture is aroused at the scent, sight, even talk of money. Its plummage fanning in the wind, the Vulture came to try and mate with the Delivery Woman. Not on my watch, you bastard.

"Leave her alone!", I yelled as I fired staples into its cawing face, "Leave her the fuck alone, devil creature."

It attempted to peck at me, but I blocked it with a binder. After a couple more failed pecks, I stunned it and taped it up so it couldn't fly. I then proceeded to remove its logo, and wipe it off with paper towels. The Delivery Woman was stunned...she probably had never seen a creature like that before.

"...I'll come back for the change tomorrow.", she said as she slowly backed out the door, before tearing ass to the front door. I couldn't blame her, I'd be scared too if I was face to face with a sex fiend of a giant bird. I went into the kitchen and washed my hands of the logo blood when I realized I had gotten the logo poison all over my shirt.

"Shit!", I yelled, "Gotta get it off before it soaks through my skin."

I tore my shirt off, and realized that this was the first time I'd taken my shirt off in this office. I wondered why it had taken a giant bird chasing me for me to have taken my shirt off in the office, because it truly felt...well, liberating. I retreated back to my office to map out strategy. Today's attack provided me with some insight into the Corporate Vulture. He had let me know that there was a nest in our office. He had let me know it was close. And he had let me know they were ready...for battle.
I salvaged a polo shirt with the company logo from the Christmas party last year, and kept it in my office in case of emergencies. When you've downed a giant bird that's trying to get acquainted with you in the biblical sense, and you get blood all over your shirt as a result...it's a safe bet that it's a pretty big emergency.

After changing my shirt, I fashioned a torch out of the ream of paper I had procured, and lit it up. I slowly stalked to the conference room doors, and with one smooth motion uncapped the last four pens on my bandelero, tossing them into the conference room and shutting the door. Their screams of pain filled my ears, and I sprayed them with some Windex in hopes that they'd just shrivel up and die. One of them survived, however...their King. The King of Corporate Vultures hovered proudly in front of me, two of his lackeys hovering behind me to make sure I didn't escape.

"So, puny human scum! Why have you not given yourself to the Kingdom of Greed?! Others greater than you have fallen...what makes you so special? What makes you...the chosen one?!"

I looked at him defiantly, and I whispered, "Because I said so." I dropped to the floor, lit the lackeys on fire, and stamped out my torch. The King Vulture was screaming about how I had killed his sons, but didn't get to finish his intimidating message of death...seeing as I was strangling him with my mouse cord, he really couldn't say much of anything. As he engaged in his death lurch, I was thrown violently to the table. I passed out almost immediately.

I woke up shirtless again, White Out and toner ink still clinging to me as my war paint, and lying on the conference room table. What actually surprised me was not that I was in this situation, I was destined to lose my fucking marbles from birth. What surprised me was it took me this long to end up shirtless (again) and passed out in the big conference room. The boss, my hallmate, and other co-workers were circled around me, looking at me as if I was a loon, instead of the savior I really was.

"Um...Mike, are you feeling ok?", my boss asked, confident he had to call the funny farm to pick up a package.

"The vultures", I whispered, "The vultures are circling".

My boss furrowed his brow with concern, "What vultures?"

"The corporate vultures."

"Corporate vultures?"

"Damnit man!", I sat up with as dire a look on my face as I could muster while grabbing him by the shirt collar, "The corporate vultures are here to enslave us all! I just took out their nest in the small conference room...more will be coming!"

A pause. A very awkward pause. A very "holy shit, I've lost my mind and my job probably isn't too far behind" pause.

The boss really thought I should get some rest. "Mike...I think you should take the rest of the day off. I think the stress is getting to you just a little bit."

"But I don't have vacation time!"

He really really thought I should get some rest. "Just put it down as a normal work day. I know you're good for it."

I got off the table, looked at everyone, and said,"Ok. Sorry about the fuss, folks! It's for your safety!"

I went to my office, packed my things, shut down my computer which had a makeshift will and testiment (just in case one of the fuckers bit me and I went down with logo poisoning), and went out to my car. I packed the carcass of the corporate vulture, logo and all, in my trunk. This bitch was getting mounted for all to see. It was a trying test of endurance...but it wasn't as bad as the time I exorcised a cadre of Corporate Demons from the office.

Ed. Note: After waking up from a big nap, I had come to realize that the bird wasn't real, the logo I removed was the placard from the wall, and the blood was really just water. Neverfear, the office is under repairs and I'll be back to work soon. As soon as they get rid of that annoying Office Badger.

Boredom, Thy Name is Work

So, as you all might know, work is getting boring as of late, which leads to me blogging more. Which in turn makes me paranoid I'll be spotted writting and will be given a firm reprimand/firing. Ah, paranoia...what wonderful inspiration! However, boredom cancels paranoia out, and thus my case of writer's block has come back. Neverfear, I'll try to come up with something. Any ideas/conversations/comments are welcome.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

The Genius of RiffTrax

Thanks to the ever cranky Mr. Beaks for posting this with a review of the film spoofed in this video on AICN. (It's not the Sixth Sense)

The Devil v. George W. Bush: A Short Fiction, Part VI

Wow. I really don't want this to end, but at the same time I'd hate to stretch this story out to Death. That having been said, look for installment VII soon, which will cap off the story of The Devil v. George W. Bush! It's been a pleasure writing this story, and you'll see more of the Devil, mark my words. I might even outline the next story, as opposed to just pulling things out of thin air and writing them. I hope this has made sense, and I hope you've all enjoyed this run. And now, our feature presentation.

Part VI: The Ultimate Legal Challenge (part I)

"Get me a lawyer...get me a goddamn lawyer.", The President shouted to Dick as they retreated to the residence with the Obama family.

"You've already got one, George, you already retain Mr. Fielding as White House Counsel."

The President was in no mood to be contradicted, "He got me into this damn mess, I want someone else to get me out of it. Get me Johnny Cochran."

"He's dead...and Satan has retained him for the possibility of acting as his own legal counsel."

"Get me that Darrow fella that got the Monkeys off."


"Get me R. Lee Ermey."

"He's not even a lawyer, and the Devil barred him from the trial. Apparently he's afraid of a hostile takeover in the name of God."

"GAH!", The President responded. Dick grunted and grimaced, upset that not only were they in a bit of a jam with no end in sight, but also that his boner deflated big time. They were going to need a hell of a lawyer, and they were going to need one soon.

"Call my daddy, he needs to be in on this. He knows what the Devil is like...he used to play golf with him and Ronnie Regan."
"YOU'RE REPLACING ME?! WITH FUCKING COCHRAN?!", The Lead Counsel screeched at Satan, "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

"Look, Lead Counsel, you've served me well in the past, but I truly need someone crafty to beat whoever the President is going to throw at me. He's stolen an election, won one, and brokered a deal with us to sell the world in order to try and get a third, indefinite term. Honestly, I'm kinda scared of this guy, and it's mostly because of that Cheney dude. Did you see him at the Inauguration? The bastard had a hard on the size of a MagLite when I stepped onto the stage."

"I don't care if it was the length and width of a football field, YOU'RE DUMPING ME FOR COCHRAN?!"

"God, you're still on that? Look, you can second chair if you like..."

"Oh no. No no no no. You want to fuck me? Fine. You're gonna get fucked back! I'm gonna go work for W."

Burt the Devil was clearly not pleased with this, "Wha?! Oh, come on, Lead Coun...do you even have a name I can call you?"

"Call me John."

Burt shrugged, "It always comes down to John. Anyway, come on, John, you can't go and do a stupid thing like that."

John the Lead Counsel was still defiant, feeling that he was massively slighted. This aggression would not stand. "Oh, I can and I will. You want to dump me, then I'm going to go work for the very guy you oppose. See you in court."
Senator Obama consulted with The President about the trial, later that very day.

"I want to be named co-defendant in the trial against Satan, George."

Dick snarled at the Senator, "That's Mr. President to you, Senator. You're not sworn in yet.". He then muttered, "If ever", as if he were actually going to do something about it. His intent glare at a .45 in his desk drawer supported such thinking, and Dick felt himself rigid again.

"Sorry", he replied sternly to Dick, "Mr. President, I'd like to be names a co-defendant since I'm President Elect."

W laughed in his trademark Texas via Connecticut drawl, "Now why would you want to get involved in a fish fry like this, boy?!" As usual, his smile faded quickly once he realized what he said, which took all of 30 seconds. A new record. "Oh..."

The Senator's face became ever so slightly enraged, not enough to look threatening but enough to show he meant business. His tone of voice was even all throughout, and he did not raise his voice above normal speaking. This, however, did not stop him from sounding like a scorned man who was ready to kick someone's ass. "Now look here, you politically inbred, stuck up, backwater, Connectifuck Cowboy looking asshole. I've taken too much shit from you and your camp to completely sit back and smile as I normally would do to avoid confrontation. The fate of the world, the entire world, is in your hands, and all you can do is sit around and whine for your father or a new lawyer or reruns of Hee Haw. No one will take you seriously like that, in fact no one ever did. All your party did was wait until you were looking the other way and pour poison into your ear about the Middle East and the Economy. You've forced some hard scrabble times on the Middle and Lower Class, and I can't stand for that. So you either listen to me, or I'll make sure that when this is over you'll be grateful to be elected Dog Catcher, because one way or another I will be in that courtroom and I will defend this great nation, and all the nations of the world."

W's mouth was still agape. So was Dick's. So was H.W.'s mouth as he entered the room. Even Michelle Obama was shocked at the tone her husband took.

"Shit...that's fine by me. Let's strategerize."

"Oh, and if you ever call me 'boy' again, I'll make sure you can't walk fifty feet without having to take a shit."

Dick sneered, obviously not learning the lesson his lackey had a couple minutes ago, "How's that possible?"

President Elect Obama just glared at him, and not only did Dick's MagLite go away, but he had shat himself right then and there. H.W. laughed.

"I knew I should have ran Jeb."

A bright flash materialized in the middle of the room, revealing itself to be John, the Devil's former Lead Counsel, "Nah, Jeb isn't as fun to laugh at as George."

Everyone in the room was stunned, and as George Sr.'s jaw dropped he asked, "Who the Hell are you?"

"I'm John, the Devil's now former lead counsel. And boy, do I have a deal for you?"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Chief Justice Roberts paced back and forth, thinking about the next day's trial. He thought to himself, "Goddamn it, is this job only about selecting the lesser of two evils to rule the world? I thought I was going to get hard hitting constitutional and judicial challenges. Rezone a district, have my say on abortion, at least get tickets to Spamalot out of the whole deal. Instead I act as nothing more than a tie breaker. I knew I should have taken up gospel singing like Ashcroft. At least HE was useless without feeling it."

Tomorrow would be an interesting day. Though the big question was, for whom?
Next time: Part VII: The Ultimate Legal Challenge (part II)

With regards/apologies to Webster's Is My Bitch

Pixar, v., "To express uncontrollable emotion in one category or another, be it laugher, sorrow, giddiness, or concern."

Usage: "The Grand Canyon was so pretty, I Pixared."

"I swear, when he tells that joke everyone has a good Pixar."

"Honey, I'm sorry I Pixared too soon. I was really getting into it."

Pixar films are an easy sell for me, it all just gets ranked with the rest of the films as to how good it is. The lowest being the "outtakes" they'd attach with their films, and the highest being an extremely close tie between Wall-E and The Incredibles. In any case, I'm looking extremely forward to up. Ed Asner's voice acting usually leads to good things.

"Do you want an ass whuppin'?" or Sweet Zombie Christ, They're Gonna Go There

Mr. Stone, you have my admission price, my girlfriend's admission price, and anyone else I can grab for this film's admission price. As with any Oliver Stone movie, the accuracy will definitely be questioned, but it'll be fun as hell!

Monday, July 28, 2008

Stupid Games

When I saw the trailer for Funny Games, I admit, I was impressed. The way the trailer combined "In the Hall of the Mountain King" with some vaguely threatening and violent action shots and a bunch of random descriptors made it such a good trailer.

I rented Funny Games over the weekend, and let me tell you it sucked Lincoln off the penny. It was one of the most disappointing disparities between the trailer and the actual product since Godzilla shat upon our shores in 1998. First off, the movie isn't as "daring" as the trailer implies, nor is it "dangerous", "brilliant", or "sensual". The film is actually quite boring, with NOTHING HAPPENING throughout. Sure, there's implied violence, a little gore, some suggestive material, and the classic "bad guys win" ending, but there's no story. No reason is given for the events of the film, no throughline leads the audience from point A to point B. I mean, fucking hell, they even kept calling each other different names, so as to deny the audience the pleasure of knowing what the fuck they're watching. There's very little dialogue in the film, there's not too many "set pieces", and the lack of interest and action set in fairly early in the film. There was one reason I sat through this entire piece of shit movie...the "plot twist".

My best friend had told me that there was a plot twist so batshit insane within the ending of the film that he knew I'd hate it. Snorb, you were 100% accurate. Behold, the massive "plot twist":

Wow...I expect a film that's been described as a post modern deconstruction on violence in films, and how the audience is made a party to such violence simply by watching, and instead I get a shitty shot for shot retread of a foreign film with no plot, very little sense, and a REMOTE CONTROL THAT CONTROLS THE UNIVERSE! Shit, if I wanted that, I could have watched Click, at least there's a story and it has Christopher Walken as the Angel of Death. (In other words, he played himself.)

Yep folks, Funny Games is nothing more than disappointment poured over shit and served on a big old heap of pretension. Don't waste your money, or you'll just go to bed crying that you've been had. And while we're on the subject, I just remembered: there was a more recent movie that was a greater disappointment, based solely on its trailers. In fact, there were two:

I'm finished...homeskillet. To cap it all off, 0:07 - 0:12 in this final clip sum up my feelings of the films in question. Also, it's a hysterical clip from one of the classiest comedies to come out of the 20th century. Take us home, Otto...

Democratic Consensus

You voted in the poll, and you made your voices clear. The consensus:

Thanks for voting. Your obligation does not end there, no no no. There's a new poll coming momentarily, and it's more important than cowbell. (Yes, it's that earth shattering.) Thanks again, everyone!

Work Stoppage

Yes, I was out on Friday, and yes I have a doctor's note. Well, not really, I was just out for the day, burning my last personal day at work. Though it was interesting, searching on Google for a picture under the term "doctor's note" actually yielded a site that plys its trade in...you guessed it, fake doctor's notes.

For only $9.95, you can get your own fake doctor's note. Personally, I think it's a waste of $9.95, when you could just go to your personal doctor and ask them for a note, if you're friendly enough with them. However, if your doctor is a prick you can't stand, then maybe the internet IS a good option. I'm just trying to save you all some money here, and with that I include the Mr. Controversy Excuse of Absense Note.

"Dear [Name of Employer],

I am unfortunately unable to attend work on [insert date(s) here]. The reason for this is because, I am a Controversy Crusader. As such, I am indebted to the cause of creating a controversy around things that should not exist in this world. These tyrannys do not rest, and nor do I, so unfortunately I must take the fight to "them". Whomever "they" may be, "they" are in for a serious ass whooping, and I shall be the one to deliver it. Not just for me, not just for America, but for the world.

I must be off,

[Your Name]"

Sorry for the absences folks, I'll get back to writing, I swear.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Drawing a Blank

I really don't know what to write about today. I'll try to work on Part VI of The Devil v. George W. Bush, but other than that, I've got nothing. I was going to do a "Four Older Actresses I'd Go on a Date With" feature, but that seems too boring. In any case, I'll be open to answering comments. Conversation is more interesting than writer's block.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

My Abusive Relationship with Hollywood, Episode 5: A Bright, Shining Disco Hell

Saturday afternoon I was asked to see Mamma Mia with my girlfriend and her sister, and somehow I voluntarily said yes. So the pain that would be inflicted on my person later is not anyone's fault but my own, Ms. Catherine Johnson, and Ms. Phyllida Lloyd. Blame assigned, on with the roast...

We arrived at the mall the movie was showing at early, which afforded us time to buy our tickets and walk around the mall, before going into the movie. I was told I looked like a condemned man on his final walk towards his death, which I was repeatedly warned I wasn't walking towards. I knew that it wasn't my death, it was merely the death of American musical cinema, which had suffered quite a few sharp blows to the head before.

After a stop at Borders and Old Navy, it was showtime. We walked into the theatre, and waited in line to get our tickets taken. Ahead and to our right was the huge line of people filing into the theater for Dark Knight. I envied those people...oh, did I envy them to death. Still, I brought this upon myself, so if anyone would be to blame, it would not be my darling girlfriend or her instigator of a sister. If I was going to burn, it would be on my own volition.

The funny thing is, my girlfriend's sister said, "Oh c'mon. I don't think Mamma Mia is that much of a chick flick." The feminine cosmetics commercial directly tied into the fucking movie had proven her wrong. The previews started, and already I had come to a realization: movie studios love to sell movies "Based on a true story" to women. That, and horrible comedies starring Anna Farris. (Honestly Anna...you were in Just Friends. Why, why did you agree to the House Bunny? At this rate, you're going to have to make good on your thoughts of posing for Playboy to gain forgiveness. For the last time, I didn't buy it when I saw the trailer with that fuckfest Made of Honor, and I'm not buying it now.)

Little did I know the trailers would take a much darker turn. Remember that bit I said about the death of American Musical Cinema...well, lo and behold THIS trailer popped up:

"The Musical Experience of a Generation"? Yeah, that fucking burned! It looks like our friend Mr. Efron doesn't understand the world once again, with is vacant stare and constant obvious questions. Retire kid, stupid only sells you so far when you look like a fucking mannequin. I hate when something this massively shitty gets a "teaser" that makes it look more epic than it should. (They did the same thing with the Sex and the City "teaser", which was ironically attached to the Golden Compass.) I mean there are some lame assed, unintentionally funny moments in this trailer. 0:24 in the trailer, doesn't it look like they're preparing for a klan rally, rather than a basketball game? Plus, the little interlude between 0:40 - 0:57 is truly shitty. It just looks like a really bad music video, which is what this film is, when you whittle it down to its core. But hey, the kids'll LOVE it. So come see, Zac Efron lynch Corben Bleu, and Vanessa Hudgens take her top off. All of this, and lameassed pop songs even by 1999 standards, in High School Musical 3: The Revenge of Ashley Tisdale's Old Nose! But I digress. I'm sorry, before I go on, I have to share some quality music.

Ok, I'm feeling better now.
After the trailers, the film started. Now, me being a movie geek and all, I'm reassured by studio logos when I know they've put quality product out in the past. For instance, Universal Pictures, the studio who released Mamma Mia, had released such fine films as Liar Liar, Jurassic Park, and most recently Hellboy 2: The Golden Army. (Which I've yet to see.) Seeing a studio's logo reassures you that it's going to be the same level of goodness you would expect from those previous films. But no...Universal was going to let me down on the greatest level it ever has since Dragonheart.

The movie starts with a little number about having a dream...the dream in this case: for a girl to find out who her mother's "baby daddy" is. Cut to introduction of the potential father's, and a jetliner that showers sparkly diamonds onto the screen that form the film's title. I looked over at my girlfriend's sister and remarked something along the lines of, "Yep. Not really that much of a chick flick. Completely fine for guys." My victory was of little consequence, for this movie would have me rolling my eyes after the second musical number, where Sophie (the main character) reads her mother's diary with her two shrilling best friends that get obnoxiously loud and giggly when they realize that the presence of "..." in the mother's journal means "we fucked" when detailing her dates with all three men. It hurt. It hurt deep, and it hurt bad.

I mean this is fucking ABBA! I enjoyed these songs on their own, and I still can enjoy them on their own. It's just that the preposterous story told by the film ruins the magic of those songs. The epitome of this is Christine Baranski's version of "Does Your Mother Know?", which had only previously been used as a comedic device in the 2004 film "Johnny English". By the end of this overly long musical number, a perfectly good pop song is turned into something you'd expect from a feminine razor commercial and/or a bad girl group video. (The "sassy" cry of "Boy down" only heightened my upset.)One song though, one fucking song was actually enjoyable at first, which gave way to me caving in on Monday morning and downloading several of the tunes from the film. S.O.S. Now, I know Pierce Brosnan has gotten a lot of shit for being in this film, and I will admit that he's not the best singer in the world. But for some reason, his performance of S.O.S. alongside Meryl Streep really sold me on his performance. It sounded slightly better than a normal person singing, which made it real. I could believe a real person was singing this, and something about the sound of his singing voice sounded good. (Disclaimer: I have NOT gone gay for Pierce Brosnan. It's going to take more than a song and dance for that to ever happen, and even then I'd still have a massive affinity for my darling, tolerant girlfriend.)

By time the wedding rolled around, I was ready to book. Then, IT happened. The plot twist. The completely incredulous ending that no one saw coming, but wish they did...they don't get married. And you never find out who the real father is either, they make this bullshit "1/3 of Sophie's good enough for me" speech and all stand behind her at the altar, RIGHT BEFORE SHE FUCKING BREAKS IT OFF! GODDAMMIT! I just sat through your shitty musical so you could cheap me out of an ending to the "mystery"? You build a film on the conceit of this girl finding who her father is, and she says "Oh, I don't need to. My mom raised me, so you all can go fuck off if you want to know who my daddy is." PLUS, you get cancel the wedding in a movie that revolves around...GETTING READY FOR A FUCKING WEDDING! You seriously expect me to swallow this horseshit! Fuck you. Just...fuck you.

"Take A Chance On Me" was a fucking joke, and DON'T get me started on the ending sequence where EVERYONE has some sort of disco jumpsuit on. I will never forgive you bastards for humiliating Mollie Weasley, 007, Bootstrap Bill Turner, and...Colin Firth by putting them in those ridiculous outfits a gay Elvis impersonator wouldn't even touch. Sons of bitches. Needless to say, when my girlfriend's sister looked over at me and asked what I thought of the movie, I unloaded. I was half worried about being embarrassed by criticizing the sheep the three of us sat with. They all laughed at The House Bunny trailer, they laughed on cue at the disaster that was Mamma Mia, and I'm sure they'd laugh at a book burning if it was colorful enough!

I mean THIS gets to be a hit, and The Producers fucking languished in Hell it's box office run?! Whatever. At least Dark Knight was a resounding success. OK, so Mamma Mia isn't a complete disaster...it has good music and a cast of people I like going for it. Unfortunately it misuses everything and turns it into a bad example of counterprogramming. This should have been a November/December release, musicals usually fare better then. (Especially when they're not going against The Dark Knight.)

To sum everything up, I present to you a song parody, set to the chorus of "Dancing Queen".

It is a disco hell, ain't it swell, theatre's death knell.
Disco hell, might as well leave before it swells (oh yeah)
I can't see, I can't breath-e, leave it to poor little me (ooh ooh)
See me burn, watch me yell, consigned to disco hell.
I close with a balm for the souls of all the men that had to see this movie...the gorgeous Amanda Seyfried. Even though the movie wasn't that great, she was still absolutely wonderful. I think it's her smile...you could sell anything with an honest enough smile.

Oh, and Universal, if Mummy 3 sucks you'll be using a scorched Earth for your logo afterwards...because no one's gonna trust you after that.

Monday, July 21, 2008

The Devil v. George W. Bush: A Short Fiction, Part V

We're almost finished here, folks. Just two more installments (maybe three) and The Devil v. George W. Bush will be finished. Here's one of them.

Part V: Ascension Day (part II)

The motorcade for soon to be officially President Obama pulled up to the Capital steps, and a throng of cheering and merriment rose up into the air. The minute he stepped out of the limousine and waved to the crowd, a torrent of flashbulbs went off. He shook people's hands, he repeatedly said "thank you" to the crowd, he even gave Hilary Clinton a big hug for all to see. He truly did have no hard feelings after all, whereas she couldn't wait to change her clothing and drown her sorrows in a bottle of Glenlevet. The New Vice President was about to be sworn in, and everyone started to quiet down. Just as the procedure had started, a slight wind had kicked up and it got just a little bit darker.
George and Dick looked out their window and the now vacant lawn of the White House. Where there stood dozens of protesters now lied a bunch of trash and fecal matter. They were all at the inauguration ceremony now, and the boys were left to have one last rumination before taking over the world.

"So Dick, what do you want to do tonight?", George asked playfully.

"The same thing we've done every night, Georgey...play Duck Hunt and make crank calls to Jesse Jackson's house.", Dick said as he slugged down a beer. He was disturbingly ready for the event in more ways than one. He made a mental note to get bigger trousers so his raging erections wouldn't show during his official duties as high inquisitor, or as he liked to call it "Big Dick Emeritus".

"That's a good plan, Dickeyboy. Good plan. Maybe Burt will join us for some tacos and we can all watch Rambo. I heard it's quite a good movie, right up your alley, Dick."

The Vice President, now fully displaying his plumage, rushed to his room to find a pair of sweatpants. The clouds continued to darken.
Burt and The Lead Counsel were en route to the Inauguration, when they got backed up on the Beltway. Traffic was at a standstill, and their Ford Pinto wasn't exactly going anywhere.

"Goddammit! It's five minutes into the ceremony, I want to make a grand entrance right after Obama gets sworn in. I had it all planned out: I stand in the wings, and just as everyone's clapping I step out clapping myself and take over...by inviting everyone to lunch."

The Lead Counsel gripped the wheel nervously, "You're still on that shit?"

"C'mon! It's an olive branch to the world. Who doesn't love appetizers?"

"I don't know...the Bible thumpers who were raised thinking 'Devil baaaad'?"

"Hey, say what you will, but Bible thumpers have said yes to the Devil before. That's how they've been caught with children and hookers."

Lead Counsel shrugged his shoulders and took the next exit off the Beltway. They'd have to go it the long way to get to the inauguration.
The New Vice President sat down, smiling broadly. He was pleased that the work of new government would commence in about ten minutes or so. Senator Obama, soon to be President Obama, stepped up to Chief Justice Roberts and began the process of being sworn in. Not too long after beginning, Burt had stepped out and started slow clapping. He had not realized that the ceremony was just beginning, instead of just ending as he had planned. A sheepish grin grew across his face.

"Shit. I had that planned out much better in my mind. Um...", he cleared his throat and started to speak, "Dear human race, an era of a thousand dark years is beginning in front of you. So, who's hungry?"

Burt's Lead Counsel slapped himself in the forehead. "Goddammit, you just HAD to go with the lunch invite." He opened his phone and began to dial Bennigan's.

Senator, not quite President, Obama looked Satan in the eye and smiled, "Relax, my term limits only four years, Mr. Reynolds."

The crowd laughed. Even Bill Clinton cracked a smile at the Senator's response.

"I am not Burt Reynolds...I am Satan, Prince of Darkness. I have merely assumed the form of Burt Reynolds to please the simpleton I struck a deal with."

Senator Obama looked confused. "What simpleton? What deal?"

Burt explained, "I have struck a deal with George W. Bush for possession of the world. As of today, he shall be the ruler of the world and he shall rule in my name."

The crowd laughed and yelled, "So how is this different from the last four years?"

Satan was not pleased. "ENOUGH! From hereon, this day shall be known as Ascension Day. Long reign George W. Bush!"

George W. Bush sauntered onto the stage, with Dick Cheney in tow (now wearing sweatpants to hide his semipermanent erection). He attempted a genuine fist bump with the Senator, but the Senator just glared at him. A couple people were more pissed off than the rest, to begin with the New Vice President.

"WHOA! Not fucking cool, Satan! I called dibs on the Presidency in exchange for your services! You were supposed to get rid of this idealistic twit, so I could usher in a New New Deal!"

"Hey, I asked the Devil for help with my campaign and he shot me down?", yelled John McCain who was also drowning his sorrows on this very day.

Burt shot back, "You didn't need my help. You were enough of an evil old bastard for the two of us."

"Wait a minute!", shouted Hillary, quite angrily, "The Devil promised the world to ME! I asked him first and he said "Sure toots, you're my kinda gal."

"No, honey, that was last night at your costume party. I was the Devil remember. 'Oh Bill, I think this costume suits you well.' Bitch."

The whole crowd started bitching and moaning about those last minute prayers they made to the Prince of Darkness, and how they were never answered...much like their prayers to his opposite number in the clouds, which had caused them to seek out his assistance in the first place.

Chief Justice Roberts sighed, annoyed with all of the legal issues suddenly arising. He called for silence from the crowd.

"Enough! I don't care who really made what deal with the Devil. Whatever the case, we shall hold a hearing in a week's time to see who truly will be the ruler of Earth. All the rest of it is bullshit, and I should know...I'm the highest sitting judge in the nation."

Next Time: Part VI: The Ultimate Legal Challenge

Who Watches the Watchmen?

No explaination needed, enjoy the awesome:

One last thing, the gentleman at the end of the video, a denizen of YouTube by the name of Blunty 3000, is indeed a good example of us geeks. You can clearly see his excitement in the outro, and it's nice to know that not all YouTube entrepenuers are fame whoring gasbags. Good on you, Blunty 3000.

03.06.09 - Experience it in IMAX.

Weekend Update

Hey folks! I'm back from a long weekend of...movies. I actually saw several films this weekend, and I'm still surprised I saw that many. In order, I saw...

- Dark Knight (in IMAX)
- Batman: Gotham Knight
- Mamma Mia
- Lions for Lambs
- Wall-E (again)
It was an interesting weekend, filled with relaxation, enjoyment, dread, disappointment, and rushing to meet showtimes. In other words, it was a typical weekend, but another good one. Though I will say this, it's good to be back here with all you fine, fine people.

Expect a chronicle of one of this weekend's more perilous exploits (if you've read the list of movies from this weekend, you'll know what I'm talking about.) and, of course, Part V of The Devil v. George W. Bush.
(I apologize for the presense of my Late Night archnemesis, Jimmy Fallon. Just deal, it's all we fucking can do at this point.)

Friday, July 18, 2008

Pairity, Volume 3 (Special Double Header)

Point: A former TV star, who would later disappear from what seemed like a burgeoning movie career, playing the love interest to the greatest Detective in comic history.

Counterpoint: A proven Independent film star, who's gaining traction in mainstream Hollywood.

Advantage: Counterpoint, though sympathies do go out to Katie Holmes' dying career.

Point: An Academy Award winner putting a new spin on an old classic, and a Joker that's more menacing, but still a huge ham.

Counterpoint: An actor who tragically passed, before the performance that would have given him an all access ticket to any project he desired

Advantage: Draw. As easy as it could be to say Heath Ledger is absolutely brilliant as the Joker, I would have to say that both he and Joker Jack owned the role in their own rights. Burton's Joker was the perfect Joker for Burton's Batman, and the same for Nolan's Joker in Nolan's Batman. As opposed to pitting them against each other, I say let them compliment each other. Think of it as a comic versus a graphic novel.
Ultimate Advantage: Seeing Dark Knight in IMAX at noon, instead of spending the day at work.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

The Devil v. George W. Bush: A Short Fiction, Part IV

Because I enjoy writing this, and apparently you all enjoy reading it, here's Part IV of The Devil v. George W. Bush! I split Ascension Day into two parts, so now we'll have a VI part cycle. Hope you enjoy.
Part IV: Ascension Day (part I)
Burt the Devil and The Devil's Lead Counsel sat at the Bennigan's next to the Regan Airport Hilton in Washington D.C. It was January 20, 2009; Inauguration Day, the day Satan would take over the World, and the biggest decision he faced at this moment was whether to go with their new oven roasted chicken sandwich, or his old standby the steak quesadilla with extra guacamole and "hacienda busting" hot sauce.

"Are you ready to order?", the waitress inquired with a grin.

Burt was indeed ready to order, "Yes, indeed I am. I'll have the Oven Roasted Chicken Sandwich, and a side salad with that. What type of light dressings do you have?"
"We have Caesar, Ranch, and Thousand Island."

"Caesar, please...", he replied, "...he was always my favorite tragedy."
The waitress formed a slightly confused look on her face, and then looked over to the Devil's Lead Counsel.

"And for you?"

The Lead Counsel answered in a tone reserved for only those moments when you knew everything in the world was right, and yet you still wanted more. "I'll have the kid's cheeseburger, and could you make sure they bring me the 'Greatest Historical Atrocities' coloring book this time? I'm sick and tired of coloring 'World's Greatest Executions', there's only so many times I can color the O.J. Simpson lynching."
The waitress giggled, "Sure thing, sir."
Burt smiled at The Lead Counsel, "Always a kid at heart, aren't you?"

Lead Counsel smiled back, "Ever since the Black Plague. Have you thought about your speech yet?"
"I was thinking along the lines of, 'Dear human race, an era of a thousand dark years is beginning in front of you. So, who's hungry?' "
"That's it? You've waited for this thousands of years, endured countless acts of libel and slander from so called 'religions' and Hollywood, and you're going to invite everyone for a fucking dessert shooter?"

"Hey", he added defensively, "that's only at Applebee's! I'd be taking everyone to Bennigan's."
Burt then shuddered, "I only take my in-laws to Applebees."
The waitress had returned with the coloring book Lead Counsel had asked for, and he gleefully started coloring the first picture, which was a portrait of Jesus's Crucifixion, only instead of being somber it looked rather...childish.

"You know, Satan, I was thinking we could perhaps get a couple jokes out there. You know, 'How many priests does it take to override this contract? None, because my lawyer will fucking kill you and rip your entrails out to decorate his patio deck.' "
Not even Burt understood his Lead Counsel's humor sometimes. "Why don't we just stick to my plan for now? We could go with yours' on the first anniversary if you like."
The Lead Counsel sighed defeatedly, "Or that." All of his best ideas, the ones he stayed up late to come up with, were always shot down by Satan. It was demoralizing, it was upsetting, and it was about time it stopped. However, once their food came and his kid's cheeseburger hit his lips, overthrowing his boss was the last thing on his mind. The only thing coming into his mind was that tasty burger. Burt, on the other hand, was wondering if perhaps he should cater the Inauguration with the very same food they were currently eating. Whatever the case, in a few short hours, the world would be theirs', and no meal concocted by the good people at Bennigan's would stop that.
Meanwhile, President Elect Barack Obama was enjoying a silent moment of reflection in his limousine. He was parked in place, awaiting the command to be given that would drive him up to the steps of the Capital, where he would be sworn in as the next President of the United States. His wife, Michelle, was sitting right next to him.
"Honey", she said, trying to break the spaced out look he had as he stared at the cheering masses, "Honey, what's wrong?"

He answered half startled, "Huh? Oh, nothing darling. I'm just worried."

"About what? The hard part is over, you won the election fair and square. You've been preparing since November for this, and now practice is over. You are the President."

"Not yet. Not until I take the oath, Michelle. And even then, I'm just worried that everyone's expectations for me are too high. They all expect me to save the world out there. All I can promise them is that I'll try to save this great nation, and hope the rest can come eventually."

Michelle gave him a tender kiss, and looked him in the eyes, "I'm sure you will be able to save this nation. Let's worry about the world after that happens."

The Limo Driver lowered the partition, "Senator Obama, it's time."

Barack took a deep breath, then replied. "Let's go."
The limousine pulled away, and started for the Capital. A feeling of optimism permeated everything and everyone. In just two short hours though, only a few select smiling faces would remain smiling, while everyone else's cereal was greatly shat in.
President Bush and Vice President Cheney were looking out upon the crowds, dreaming of what they would do after the announcement.

President Bush thought to himself, "Hmm, let's see. First thing I'll do is make sure Dukes of Hazard is on TV at least five hours a day, followed by some Hee Haw, and cap off the night with some 700 Club. Then, if I'm feeling generous, I'll kick back for a relaxing vacation riding on the back of John Kerry."

All Vice President Cheney was thinking of was two concepts, which were singular in their natures, but combined gave him a hard on the size of a MagLite: "Target Practice...Congress". This thought kept repeating in his head, and sure enough Dick's dick rose to the occasion. He smiled and thought to himself that it was simply wonderful he didn't need a pill or enhancing mechanism to generate this particular erection. The blood of the innocent always did that for him. As both men reflected silently to themselves, neither of them noticed the flaming bag of dog crap flung at the window they were looking out of.
Next Time: Part V: Ascension Day (Part II)

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Ad Ventures Part II: The Quickening

After Ad Ventures, Part I: The Prequel with no Roman Numeral; I was greeted with more possible ad taglines. I wonder how I can get this stuff made into T-Shirts, because honestly I think these'd go over well in public. And when I say, "Go over well", I mean, "You probably don't want to wear these to church."

Anyway, on with the taglines. One of the new kids in the pool, Dave B, had these gems. (Again, they will be provided with personal commentary.)

Mr. Controversy: Anti-Abortion Rape Advocate!
The parodox this invokes is nothing short of a headscratcher to those who don't get subtle, contradictory humor. In other words, it's right at home with this website.

Mr. Controversy: He'll Cornhole Your Mind!
Sounds like it hurts...which means it's working.

Mr. Controversy: Commentary That's Over Your Head!
This one just flat out says, "Don't question it, just go with it." I like it.

Mr. Controversy: The Internet's Finest Porn Star and Priest
Hands down, one of the funniest things I've read. Also, I kindly asked Dave B. how he knew about my past as a porn star/priest, to which he replied, "Well, you know, us porn star/priests have to have a show of solidarity!" Amen Dave, amen.

Fellow commenter/reader/member of the Archive of Awesome, Seresecros, had these in mind:
Mr Controversy: Advocating the controlled execution of all Jewish people since 1991.
I'm not so sure about this one, I mean I'm perfectly fine with Jewish people. It's the ones that live up to the horrid ethnic stereotypes that I have a problem with, and that's certainly not all of them. I guess that's where the "controlled" part comes in.

Mr Controversy: The only blog that actively sets out to save us all from the domineering effect of mass-produced American culture that only serves to dilute the collective soul of the nation.
I think Chez at Deus Ex Malcontent would take offense to this, because he does a pretty good job of covering this base too. Other than that, I love the rest because it's true. I'm here to help the culture, folks.

Mr Controversy: I can read minds.
I saw that coming. Still a good one.
Keep 'em coming, kids! They're pretty damn funny so far. Oh, and one last thing, check out the Archive of Awesome on the left hand side of the page. They're my usual haunts on the Internet, and blogs I've read that I think are pretty...well, awesome. Dave B is the author of Misanthrope Inc. and Seresecros is the author of Wilftonville. Both are very funny, and worth your time, so read them now goddamnit! (Well, as soon as you're done for the day here. I wouldn't want you to leave too soon.)

The Devil v. George W. Bush: A Short Fiction, Part III

And now, Part III of the V (I think) part saga, The Devil v. George W. Bush.
Part III: The Contract for Earth
Two weeks had passed, and the Devil was in a conference with his lawyers, putting the finishing touches on his contract.

"So, we get Halloween and All Saint's Day, Christmas, and Easter off; all other days we constantly supervise his movements and decisions, and we can reserve the right to override him, provided we get Congressional support."

Burt (aka Satan) smiled, "So basically, it's the deal we had before?"

The first lawyer answered, "Well, yes. Except we get Easter off, and our dental is fully covered."

"Ah, well that's a relief. I've been meaning to get my caps redone. Now, what do we get in terms of health insurance?"

A second lawyer step up to answer this one, "Same coverage as before, only we're under a PPO instead of an HMO."

"I never should have created those. Too much goddamn fuss, and you can never find a decent doctor. 401k?"

"A Roth 401k. I hear it's quite comprehensive."

"Wonderful. Now, in terms of the actual world, are there any areas we should stay out of. You know, we're not exactly popular all over."

Lawyer Number Three's turn to speak. "Well Satan, I personally think we should stay out of the Middle East and North Korea. They don't need our help over there. I'd suggest a powerbase somewhere in Europe maybe, and some visits throughout America of course."

"Ah. It always comes down to Europe. You know I spent my teenage years there...and people wonder how all of these superstitions from the Old Country got started."
The boardroom erupted with laughter. "Ok, folks. This deal should be easier than spit on a grill."

"Um, sir, the President isn't here. You can speak in terms we all can understand."

"I know, but I kinda like being Burt Reynolds. It wouldn't be very authentic if I just said something like, 'This plan shall rain forth fire and brimstone on my enemies, and bring the great son of George H.W. to power, where he shall sit forever and ever.' I mean they don't say shit like that in the Cannonball Run movies."
"Very true sir", spouted the Devil's lead counsel. He wasn't about to argue with him. It was never a good idea to argue with the Devil before a contract signing.
The meeting took place at an airport hotel, just outside of Washington D.C. The location was chosen not only because of its convenience, but also because of its close proximity to a Bennigan's restaurant. This was not any ordinary Bennigan's though, this was the Bennigan's that took home the Smiley Cup six years in a row, which was a benchmark for excellent service and business operations at any one Bennigan's location. The Devil loved Bennigans, he loved it more than his later creations TGI Fridays and Applebee's. The President, the Vice President, and Fred Fielding, his lead counsel, all met up at the Regan Airport Hilton to finalize their positions on the contract.

"Ok, Mr. President, so if they offer us a Direct TV package you'd rather have the Dish Network package because you've memorized the channel schedule and because they have Toon Disney. Also, you request that Inauguration Day be renamed to Ascension Day, and you request one super power of your future choosing."

The President smiled, "I'm thinkin' about XRay vision. Either that or flight, I'm not sure yet."
"And Mr. Vice President, you want to hold a mass Waterboarding, with the person's you've listed in this notebook."

"Mmmhmm. I'm perfecting my technique with Alberto tomorrow."
Fielding took a breath, "Ok. Sounds like everything is in order."
And just at that moment, Burt appeared out of nowhere, staff of lawyers present and accounted for as well.

"So, Mr. Fielding, do we have a deal?"

"Deal? What deal? We haven't even given you our particulars yet."

"Fred...I'm the Devil. You don't think I'm listening in and taking things into consideration. I've amended the contract and all you guys have to do is sign it."

W was amazed, and he applauded as he exclaimed, "Oh! Oh he is good! Did you see that, Dickey?! Holy shit, that was cool."
"Ah, it's just a trick I learned from Harry Houdini. We used to hang out together back in the day. So, do we have a deal?"

Mr. Fielding straightened himself and stood up, "Mr. President, I suggest we read the contract and..."

Before Mr. Fielding could say anymore, the President snatched up the contract and signed his name. Then he rushed it to the Vice President, who also quickly scrawled his name. Finally, he presented it to Fred, for his final and binding signature.

"Mr. President...", he whispered, "...are you sure you want to do this without reading the contract?"

"C'mon, Deep Throat", he jabbed, "It's the Devil. How's he gonna screw us on our home turf? We're the ones that do all the screwin' in this town."
Burt the Devil smiled, and winked. "That's my boy."
With Mr. Fielding's signature, the contract was binding. On January 20, 2009; the world would belong to Satan.
Next Time: "Part IV: Ascension Day"

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Color Commentary, or Ode to the Peanut Gallery

As you can see, I'm back from vacation. More on that in the coming shortened week. (I'm off on Friday to go see Dark Knight in IMAX at Noon in AC.) First though, I just want to say thanks to all the readers, in particular those who comment on the posts around here. I started this whole damn thing because I wanted to have a place where I could shout my opinion and not have to filter it (well, filter it as much) as I do in public and with other people. I also wanted to put something out there that people could read and enjoy. Most importantly though, I saw the blog trend taking off with the both the good (Deus Ex Malcontent) and the bad (Perez Hilton) reaping the benefits, so I figured I'd populate a nice big grey line in-between and see if I couldn't gain some notoriety myself.

Getting comments, talking with you all, it makes me feel vindicated for even beginning this enterprise and makes me feel that blogging while I work isn't only fun, it's somewhat vital to the Internet itself. Whomever blogs in fact, is doing the Internet a service by showing just how free speech flourishes on it. However, just because you can say what you want doesn't mean everyone is going to like you. It'll be interesting to see when anyone writes any truly incendiary comments on this blog in the future, and I'll thank them too because whether I piss you off, make you laugh, or get your full approval, I'm here to make you think.

Thank you all for making this run, so far, a smashing success. This just goes to show that sometimes the Peanut Gallery is more interesting than those who are truly running the show.

I doft my cap to you all,

Mr. C

Friday, July 11, 2008

Just a friendly reminder...

I'm away in PA, so Friday through Monday there won't be any Controversy. I'll be back on Tuesday, hopefully with more for The Devil v. George W. Bush. Be well, all.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Odd Google Ad for the Day: The Devil

So, thanks to Ad Sense's "relevant" ad services, some interesting ads have come up. The latest of which states, "Anti Christ has already been revealed! Learn what effect this has had on God's Church." This got me to thinking, why don't we do an Odd Ad of the Day segment?
It's simple. If you see a weird assed ad like that in my Ad Sense box, take a screenshot with the Ad Sense box's description and send it to mrcontroversyonline@yahoo.com. Also, click the link and tell us what it's for. Screenshots of that would be interesting as well.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Fandango knows its audience

Three cheers for Fandango! They're pushing 3:00 and 6:00 Am showings of...well, I'll let the article do the talking.

With more than a week to go before the highly-anticipated release of "The Dark Knight," Fandango, the nation's leading moviegoer destination, reports that many of its pre-opening Thursday midnight shows on July 17 are already sold out in cities across the country, from New York to Boise, Idaho. Theaters continue to add 3:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m. pre-opening showtimes to meet the ticketing demand.

"'The Dark Knight' may be responsible for a lot of bleary eyes at work next Friday morning," says Rick Butler, Chief Operating Officer for Fandango. "We're seeing a record number of late-night showtimes selling out in advance, while theaters are adding new performances every day."

More than 1,500 late-night showtimes of the movie have been scheduled for the film's pre-opening on Thursday night (Friday morning), July 17-18, at Fandango.com/TheDarkKnight. An online survey of more than 3,000 "The Dark Knight" fans on Fandango.com over the holiday weekend offered the following information on the late-night surge:

* 37% of respondents plan to see the film at least once during one of the late night performances on Thursday night. * 38% say that they intend to take off a few hours or the entire day from work on Friday as a result of seeing the movie the night before.
* 60% of these moviegoers are male.
* 71% are under the age of 35.
* 39% plan to see the film in IMAX(R).
* 92% expect that the Academy will recognize Heath Ledger's performance as The Joker with a posthumous Oscar(R) nomination next year.

For Fandango, "The Dark Knight" is poised to be the year's top advance ticket-seller in wide release, outpacing "Iron Man," "Indiana Jones 4" and "Sex and the City" at the same point in those films' sales cycles.

Do what must be done, people. Record breaking opening weekend, record breaking run, and let's put a smile on James Cameron's face with a new overall king of the box office. In the mean time, go see Hellboy II: The Golden Army.

Ad Ventures

So, I've been trying to think up some slogans for future ads showcasing my blog. (You know, for kids!) I posted a bulletin on MySpace, and my best friend Chris actually came up with the following taglines (enhanced with commentary).

"Mr. Controversy: Because He Fucking SAYS So!"
Hmm...that's a keeper.

"Mr. Controversy: Internet Reporting With Balls!"
Stephen Colbert might take offense with his website.

"Mr. Controversy: From His Cock to Your Face!"
...Not really.

"Mr. Controversy: Because Chuck Norris Already Has 'Mr. Internet Tough Guy' Status!"
Jack Bauer >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>Chuck Norris

"Mr. Controversy: Ominous Latin Chanting Optional!"
Sanguis Bibimus. Corpus Edimus. Tolle Corpus Satani! Ave!

Any other ideas from all of you out there?

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

I'm a whore...

...I've sold out to Google's AdSense. Meaning, that until I can actually get advertisers in the future (when, and if, I become popular enough to warrant such a thing) I will have to be happy with the ads Google gives me due to my writings. So please, click the links dear readers. If you have them on your site, I'll click on them too. Let's all help each other out in this economic clusterfuck we're in. Thanks.

Help Michael Cera: Don't Go See These Movies

Behold, the "new Juno" according to former trendsetter, now corporate shill disguised as a teenybopper, MTV!


It was only a matter of time before shit like this started to get made, all thanks to Diablo Fucking Cody "winning" an Oscar for Best "Original" Screenplay. (Is teenage angst and teenage pregnancy "original"? I don't know, ask the Lifetime network, they make so many goddamn movies about it they could have their OWN awards show.)

Still, there is another movie to blame. One that was the pregenetor to Juno. One that inspired Diablo Cody to take its premise and add pregnancy and a female protagonist to it.

That's right! Thanks to all of your support to Napoleon Dynamite, a new generation of filmmakers realized that all they need to make a successful "independent film" is the following:

- No name or low level actor/actress naive enough to think you're a fucking genius.

- A script with "out there" shenanigans and goings on.

- A soundtrack no one will ever have heard of, but NEEDS to go out and buy after the movie so they aren't behind the curve.

- ONE catch phrase and/or visual object that acts as a catchphrase.

We went from independent studios producing quiet introspective films and documentaries that major studios wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole to shill factories that produced hamburger phones in a matter of a few short years. Do you know WHY?! Because major studios created their own "independent" branches. Fox Searchlight, Warner Independent, Paramount Vantage, Focus Features...ALL "independent branches", not "independent studios". Still bankrolled by major studios, still supplying major studios with money, only this is where the "prestige" pictures go. The ones that are actually good and deserve a shot at the Oscar.

At least they were, until Juno came out. When Juno was released by Fox Searchlight (which was the studio that also released, you guessed it, Napoleon Dynamite), it was a harsh wake up call to movie fans. That call was, "Sorry folks, we're in it for the money too." Not only did the fucking thing get nominated and win at the Oscars, it made money. Expect more independent branches to sell out and make films that continue to compromise art and commerce. At this point, what's stopping the independent branches from being absorbed into the parent branch?

Hollywood, can we go back to making REAL movies instead of this shit you continue to push upon us? You've already had a writer's strike, and now you're almost primed for an actor's strike that'll rob us of more "entertainment". Just how much shit to you expect us to swallow, while those who aren't as talented are asking to be paid as much as those who are. We're supposed to suffer a writer's strike, so the idiots who wrote Disaster Movie get paid as much as the geniuses behind Dark Knight and Wall-E?!

Hollywood, all you're really doing is recycling the same shit over and over. Man the fuck up, collect your paycheck, and fucking EARN more money. Maybe then you'll think twice before whining. As for the actors/writers who DESERVE more money, I want them to get paid. The pretenders to the throne can go fuck themselves.

And on a final note...

Dear Michael Cera,

I promise you, after you've made the Arrested Development movie, you won't have to make another Juno inspired piece of shit like this where you're merely reduced to nothing more than a manaquin sounding board for some "quirky" female's thoughts. Until then, you fucking rocked in Superbad.

Hang in there,

Mr. Controversy

P.S. Operation: Celluloid Inferno is at yellow status. Who want's in?


The Devil v. George W. Bush: A Short Fiction, Part II

Oh hell, I like you kids and since I've promised things and not delivered in the past, it's time you all got something early for a change. Here's part II of The Devil v. George W. Bush, six days early. Tell all your friends!

Part II: The Negotiation of Terms and Conditions

A couple of weeks after that Fall afternoon in November, the soon to be ex President and his soon to be ex-Vice President sat down with The Devil for a meeting. This was to be the pitch of a lifetime for both sides involved, seeing as the stakes were quite high. As it would turn out, the Devil had surprised everyone with his appearance, simply because instead of looking like some red, hulking monster with horns, he looked like Burt Reynolds...with horns. He even sounded like Mr. Reynolds, which excited the President, because he was also an avid fan of the Smokey and the Bandit saga.
"Well, now that you boys are seated, what can I do for you? Scotch, bourbon, lemonade?"

"I'll just have a lemonade, Mr. Satan.", replied George, still a little intimidated that he was staring at The Bandit with horns. The Devil poured a tall glass of lemonade with a lemon wedge and some ice in it. He added a little umbrella, and that was all it took to calm the President's jangled nerves.

"And you, Mr. Cheney?"

"What the hell, pour me a shot of that bourbon. It looks damn tasty, and I need something to calm me down. No offense, sir, but you aren't exactly the easiest person to deal with."
"Ah, I get that a lot. No reason to fret, old Dickey boy, this deal will be over faster than a hogtie with duct tape."

The President let out a sigh of relief and sank back in his chair. Finally, someone important in the world spoke his language. The Devil sat down at his desk with a glass of lemonade, much like the President's, and began to speak after a nice, cool sip.

"So, what are you boys here to negotiate? Mary's been telling me this is quite a big contract we're dealing with here."

"Well...uh, you see...I was thinking...uh...line?", the President stammered. He had forgotten what he and Dick had agreed on as their sales pitch earlier in the day .
"Mr. Satan..."
"Please, call me Burt."
"Well, uh, Burt, we were wondering if we could make a little power play here that'd be mutually beneficial to us all. You see, our term in office is coming to a close and..."

"OH, I REMEMBER I REMEMBER!", burst the President. He cleared his throat and continued.

"Dick, I have it from here, thank you. Um, now Mr. Satan...Burt, if you prefer."

"Yes I do."
"Well, Burt...see we're at the end of our term limits and we don't think we've done enough for the world and democracy. Not just in Iraq, but all over. People really don't like me and...I want to change that. I don't want to be remembered as the ignorant president who lead a nation to war. I want to be remembered as a nation builder, a unifier, and a lover of all that is peaceful."
Burt looked at The President perplexedly, "So you want to be made a Democrat?"
The President and his VP both jumped from their seats, "FUCK NO!"
Bush continued, "I want to sell you the world, with the promise that I get to be leader."

Burt put down his lemonade and laughed. "You? You want to rule the world? Every last square inch of it?"
George, looking a bit hurt, stood his ground. "Yes, yes I do. I feel that unencumber-ened by the conven...conven...."
Dick chugged down his bourbon nervously, then helped his floundering compatriot. "...unencumbered by the conventions of the American System of government."

George smiled and patted Dick on the back. "Right, what he said. Jesus, Dickey, why weren't you President?"
Cheney muttered under his breath, "Sometimes I ask myself that same goddamn question."
Burt looked at the both of them, shook his head, and smiled. "Boys, I doubt you two really want to offer me the world. I mean, I'm the Prince of Darkness. I'm the guy you two believe strongly against. I'm that guy that kicks puppies and rapes sheep for fun, all while aborting fetuses and causing global warming. I'm the end all, know all, cause all for your problems."

George looked at Satan and asked hopefully, "So you'll help us then?"

Burt sighed, figuring he'd ride it out and see where this would all go wrong in the long run. "Alright, you've got a deal. Inauguration Day 2009, you hand the world over to me instead of that Obama chump and we're set. You get to be leader, I'll just sit in the background and do what I do best."
George smiled, Dick smiled, Burt took an Advil and sat back in his chair. In a couple week's time they'd meet again to go over the contract that would put the fate of the world in the hands of the man everyone feared would end them...and Satan would be there watching his every blunder.
Next time: Part III, The Contract for Earth

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