Lauding One of the AFI Top 100's Most Influential Films

Upon first glance at the American Film Institute's Top 100 Films, several jump out at you for the noteworthy way they changed the landscape of film. Like Citizen Kane, which is about some goddamn sled or something. Or King Kong, which demonstrated crappy graphics and an unrealistic premise of a goddamn giant primate of some sort making it to New York and having a thing for blondes.

But one of the films which I feel needs to be more recognized- both for the way it defined a generation and changed cultural opinions and the general milieu of the world around it- is none other than 1995's Operation Dumbo Drop.


Ray Liotta and Danny's Glover's courageous portrayals of two lifelong military men enlisted with moving a dastardly elephant (socialism) somewhere or something has changed the life path of all those who have come across the film. Without recognition from the Screen Actor's Guild or Academy Awards, the film has still managed to snare the headlines both for political activism and daring glances into Vietnam War era military furtiveness.

Barack Obama is one man whose entire political career was shaped by the movie. "Moving an elephant or whatever it is the elephant symbolized was on the level of inspiration of Rocky or E.T. Yet these movies are constantly referred to as true bastions of neo-politicalism. I would have to say in 1995 when I saw O D D, as we followers call it, I realized that two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I would have to move an 'elephant' right down through the middle of the woods. Political satire has never been more brilliant, or moving."

This writer's personal opinion is that one "dropping a dumbo" on someone, and the multicultural references of having one caucasian and one African-American lead cannot be understated. The Kim Jong-Il's, Fidel Castro's and Stephen Harper's of the world could well stand to be taught the lesson in the film. That or have a dumbo dropped all upside their heads.

Embrace my weaknesses (pansies)

In one of my favorite 50 cent songs (I never really understood his name. Salmon P. Chase Bill would have been a much better name, and a way higher monetary value., I mean come on half dollar...$10,000 bill is ballin out of control), the chorus is, "if i cant do it, it cant be done." I however, am not such a braggy type (ok yes I am, that's why it's one of my favorite 50 songs. It's like he's talking to me directly, or rather sharing some sort of beautiful dialogue). 50 has obviously never been in a job interview where they ask him about his weaknesses. The thing about weaknesses is they must be embraced. I'd rather do stuff I have mad skillz at doing better than everyone else then to do shit at which I suck and be mocked accordingly. Therefore, here are my personal go to weaknesses at job interviews:

Building things - the last furniture I built was an Ikea dresser. I ended the process wondering why they had provided several extra wood piece and some extra screws. Needless to say, this dresser has not stood the test of time too well. Or even stood at all too well at any point in time.

Eating eggplant - Shit's gross man. I can't even fake it being edible even with being a 27 year old grown ass man.

Fitting into small quarters- I used to be able to fit into some cabinets in the house where my Mom grew up. I tried this a couple years ago and could barely fit my upper half in. Now mind you when I say "used to be able to" I was maybe 3 at a time, and have grown at least a foot and ten pounds since then. At least I have avoided the curse of my Father who hits his head on shit all the time.

Wearing short pants without being made fun of- I have to wear a 36 inseam, which means special ordering pants. Guess who is not patient enough for this sometimes and buys normal pants that are too short? Me. Luckily I am surrounded by the kindest friends who will mock me at will for wearing pants that are even a smidgen short.

Keeping clean shaven

Being on time (put this one in the middle so they are still stuck on your more intriguing flaws)

Battle rapping (i go to the f word early and often) Whenever 8 Mile came out we used to get drunk and try battle rapping. Unfortunately a line consisting of purely f bomb's does not merely rhyme with a line that follows consisting purely of f bomb's- it's identical. I retired from battle rapping soon after)

Throwing away socks once one has a hole in it

Fantasy baseball

Not trying hard enough to join the US Curling Team- As I watched the winter olympics this past year and watched the U.S. Suck at Curling, I thought how awesome I would be at it. Then some young dude shows up and they start talking about how he is the bad boy of curling. That dude looks like a total nerd next to what I would bring- hot ladies and a flask where I get drunk at every match (contest? competition? game? round?) and yell at the crowd. Boom. But it's a weakness of mine since I don't try too hard to join it.

These are my weaknesses. Feel free to use them as you wish at your next job interview.

$ Texas

I just wagered the state of Texas.

I think people should put more of a gift of a magi spin on stolen goods. Or go the polar opposite and act like liam neeson in taken no matter how minute the iterm.

A few months ago, a most egregious act occurred at my apartment unit, one entirely shocking given the fact that the last remaining Cabrini Green tower looms in the distance. Or wait, no, it was not shocking in the least, but it still happened.

My girlfriend had her bike stolen off of our balcony.

This, my reader (note the singular...I am trying to make you feel unique, even though you are about as ubiquitous as a Starbucks to me. Trust me, I write this to make myself giggle, not you), is no small feat, given the fact that our balcony bottom ledge is probably ten feet off the ground. So for one to pull themself up, and toss down a bike without getting caught is semi awesome. (Also semi frightening when I think about these bike thieves sitting around my home, eating my peanut butter) I assume it might have been a team of acrobats.

Regardless I have decided something. There in the future should only be two ways to handle such a crime, neither of which involves contacting the authorities.

1. If an item, no matter what the value, has been stolen from you, put a Gift of the Magi spin on it. For those not familiar with the tale, go look up the Wikipedia entry. I am not your English teacher, and whomever they were obviously did a shit job teaching you.

Now that you have looked it up, you understand what I am talking about. If you still have not looked it up, it is probably because you don't know how to read, and have merely printed out this blog entry and are using it like a word search (which, I must admit would be a fun illiteracy related activity. No word can be wrong, because you don't know any).

Anyways, if an item has been stolen from you, just pretend someone did it to get someone else some sentimentally awesome ass gift, not merely to peddle your bike around and sell drugs.

Option 2 is to react like Liam Neeson in the film "Taken". Like this guy on the following link:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/07/26/the-funniest-notes-left-f_n_659338.html#s118930

So, two options. Like them and use them. Or else I'm going to start stealing your shit.

Observations from the world....and man law

First things first, a few observations from the world around me. Tru TV, which is evidently a channel, has a new show (maybe it's new, maybe it's in its 12th season, maybe they bought the rights to it from Fox?? I don't know) about the dramatic events at a pawn shop. The name of this show? Hardcore Pawn. What immediately came to mind is that any true Bostonian is going to somehow get screwed over should they happen to love this show, particularly if they are asked how they feel about their favorite TV show in a job interview or other socially awkward situation. Because you know what it would sound like they were saying..."I LOVE HARDCOH PORN" And they might also love that. I do not know these things.

Second things, well, second. As is wont for things that go second, to be second. The other day I was reading over the shoulder of a man on the train. The title of the chapter of whatever shit book he was reading was "What is your biggest fear? Speaking, rejection, or failure?" How about something legit, buddy. Like goddamn poisonous snakes. Or sharks off seal island in South Africa. Flesh eating bacteria. The list goes on and on. That is why people need to not be worried about crap like public speaking. No one cares what you are saying. Just don't be a person from Boston talking about how much you love the show Hardcore Pawn. Or pee yourself.

Finally I have long been wishing to express rules of man law because I feel it is of such great importance to our society, the world, and our future. So, the first rule of man law presented to the world:

Those tiny backpacks that have merely strings that go over your shoulder, and you have to hold on, which additionally look as if they could hold only your favorite bracelets ARE NOT FOR MEN. These are for 7 year old girls. Some men have countered with, "They are perfect for carrying shoes." NO. A normal backpack can do that too. Or carry them in your hand, like a real man. Goddamnit, this makes me so irate. So please, mock any man you see wearing these, both those you know, and strangers on the street. A nice cackle and saying something like "What's the matter, no backpacks for men? Had to borrow your 7 year old sisters backpack?" Then these could be eradicated once and for all, because I think even 7 year old girls have moved on from these sissy bags.

Part 1 in a 10 Part Series- The Best Actors Ever

First and foremost, it is Aug 1st, so Happy Shark Week...in the words of the ever poetic Tracy Jordan, "Live every week like it's shark week." A truer statement has never been spoken. I have, however, thought truer statements. I just don't want to upstage this comment.

Now to get down to business, discussing the Top 10 Actors of all time.

#10 Michael Oliver

At this point many of you are thinking, "Michael Oliver? Who the fuck is that? How can the #10 actor of all time be someone whose name I do not even know?"

You probably know him better by his birth name...Michael Oliverius. Still not ringing a bell, morons? Here's a photo:










This thespian who is known namely for his brilliant portrayal of "Junior" in 2 Problem Child movies (the series also spawned a third, made for TV movie which Oliver did not appear in for fear of diluting the character. And I just made that up) is without a doubt one of the Top 10 Actors of our time. Do they traditionally make a series of 3 films without a successful star at the helm for at least the first two? I'll give you some examples, with the actor's all time rating in parentheses:

Indiana Jones series featuring Harrison Ford (329)
The Matrix Series starring Keanu Reeves (12...sorry Keanu, not quite top 10 material)
The Land Before Time series starring Littlefoot (22)

Need any more proof? I thought not.

Oliver, classically trained in method acting as well as with Strasberg's techniques, owned the screen even when appearing along slightly more notorious actors like John Ritter (34), Michael Richards (19) and Jack Warden (456). Marlon Brando oftentimes would speak of Oliver's performances wistfully before he died, lamenting, "I wished I could have had half his (Oliver's) presence on the screen." Second truest statement ever spoken.

Oliver, like many others who know when to get out while at the top of their game, only appeared in a couple bit roles after the Problem Child films, and I for one think this would have to be due to the fact that playing these roles with such passion and vigor would be just too draining to continue at such a level. However, I could be writing this post about Top 5 all time Actor Michael Oliver had we at the very least gotten to see him reprise his role in Problem Child 3.

Confidence Stench

Confidence has a smell, and no, it’s not an actual aroma as this is not some body wash for men advertisement, but rather it has a certain palpability to it that lingers on people.

I personally have a confidence stench.

I make phenomenal, glaring eye contact when the situation calls for it.

I enter rooms with a half smile half smirk like I know something everyone else doesn’t.

Is this true? Maybe, maybe not but if you say anything with enough conviction and confidence it sounds true. And say it often enough and you will believe it too. Hell, I have told enough stories filled with partial truths and entertaining self aggrandizing fibs that my friends can retell them the same way. You know why? My confidence stench.

The way I look at achieving things and getting different things is different from one of those lame-o visualization exercises where you see yourself achieving “FILL IN PARTICULAR GOAL”. It’s more of, “There are billions of people in the world. Vast percentages are inept morons. I am not an inept moron, ergo; I can do what I want.”

If I want to randomly pack up my car and move directly across the country to a city I have never even visited, where I don’t know hardly anyone, have no job lined up, and no place to live, I will do it. And I will do it knowing that I will get an awesome job, get a place to live, and make as many friends as I want. Confidence stench.

And I know that if I were to move back to Chicago and try and make a career switch, even it was in some stupid industry like car rental, that I would be the youngest manager in the downtown market within ten months. Confidence stench.

Were I to randomly wake up one day, and decide in the midst of a job recession that I wanted to quit my job, with nothing on the horizon and bills to pay, that I would have no problem finding a new job where I got paid more and worked less. Confidence stench.

When meeting people, interviewing for jobs, or bartering at your favorite flea market, it is of the utmost importance, you have to let your stench be made present. Without it, that’s the sort of shit that gets people mugged and attacked by Rottweiler’s and paying exorbitant prices for a second hand wooden tennis racket.

130% of job interviews are decided on three factors, and I know this because I have hired now 8 people in my brief professional tenure:

1) A firm enough handshake by a person making direct eye contact with sound posture.

2) A person who is ready and willing to talk about the subject about which they have the best knowledge and confidence, themselves.

3) A person who projects the attitude, “You’d be fucked up in the mind to not pick me.”

I have always gone forth from any interview, personal interaction, or flea market purchase thinking about what a great impression/second hand wooden tennis racket purchase I have made. And whatever decision others make, I find it to be like the opposite of the classic breakup mantra, “It’s not you, it’s me.” Instead it’s a whole lot of, “It’s not me, it’s you, you fucking idiots. But oh well, it’s not on me. I’m gonna be alright, it’s you I’m worried about, what with your awful decision making skills and ugly sweaters.” There are times, albeit rare, when you must defer to others and mask your stench. I have not discovered such a situation, but I am sure they exist.

The confidence stench is unique to the individual. Everyone has a particular way of showing how they are the best. The key thing is you are always prepared for everyone else to smell your stench and recognize it.

"Leprosy, Flesh Eating Bacteria, Hot Dog Fingers, Government Created Killer Nano Robot Infection"

As the summer season rolls continues, we have, much to the delight of literally three to fifteen million people, carnival season, festival season and all the lovely picnics you could imagine in local neighborhoods and at local churches.

And this brings me to discuss one of the true treasures we have in the US and A- the carnival worker. Oh you know who they are. You love them. Maybe some of you have been drunk and literally loved them (although on my jack and coke scale you would be past death level to have to do something this extreme. Like a 18. 18 Jack and cokes might make this excusable. On second thought, no. If you have ever hooked up with a carnie, you are doing wrong with your life). And you know who these people are. Carnies are easily known as carnies based on their general carnieness. They have a cigarette in their mouth or on the ready in their hands at all time, they stare listlessly off into the distance constantly which is also their style when operating that rickety old scary ride (about which your Dad always says, "Must be totally safe. Do you really think they would let all these kids on it if it weren't safe?" Yes Dad, I do think they might not be safe. These machines weren;t built by NASA employees in their down time) or taking your money so you can play their rigged carnival game. , they have some sort of tattoo related to America a la the bald eagle drinking whiskey with guns it its talons. These people are America.

Yet one thing that I have always been perplexed about is just how one ends up becoming one of these carnival workers. It's almost like the old joke about naming your kid Jeeves so he would become a goddamn butler, which is basically like telling your child you hate them (Ace, Buck, Icarus...those names equal pure love). Carnies might start off from the same path, receiving names like Riaan, Fred, Arrork, Botswana, Namibia, Rwanda (alright so I just started naming African countries. It was easier that way for all of us. Trust me.) But somehow I don't get the feeling that the path to carniedom follows this route:

1)Normal middle class upbringing, complete with high school, college, and taking MBA classes at night.
2) Become a carnie.

That would be fucking ridiculous.

I have a feeling like it's more like this

1) Found in a dumpster by nuns during infancy
2) Given an odd name since nuns, realistically have little or no contact with the actual world, nor do they know they are making you destined to become a carny.
3) Get your first tattoo at three. Also develop a lifelong dependance on oxycontin, whiskey, cigarettes and strippers, but slightly later, like at 10, on a field trip to a meat packing plant where you seperated from the group and went to a strip club.
4) Burn the orphanage down.
5) Work for a carnival. Your skillset is perfect and boy did you ever trick the manager of the carnival to agree to pay you in all the corndogs you could eat. That fuckin moron.

I mean, think about it, there are a number of blue collar jobs which can still place people in a whole different strata than the carnival worker. But at the same time, is the carnival worker not as beautiful and majestic as a soaring bald eagle in terms of its representation of America?

Carnies with good social skills get promoted to being a roadie.

DJ PAUL BUNYAN! EXCLUSIVE FLAPJACK REMIX!

Well, well, well...what do we have here? It's been a while. But several things have happened. First and foremost, fuck you. Secondly, I have one question: How dare you? Thirdly, I am now, as the french say, un pamplemousse extraordinaire, or for the non educated, a professional writer. Fitty cents a word. That shit adds up in a hurry, but alas, they do not allow cursing in that writing venue. Nor entertainment. Also, all my ethnic slurs were edited out of the last piece I wrote. Even so, it stings to sit here and do this writing for basically free (I could cash in those $3.42 in google ad marketing I have gathered up over the years, but as Sylvester Stallone says, "UGIUBSI SIUBS") with only my mind to offer feedback.

So, before I get into the meat of this, I have some rules:

1. If you read this, give a comment.
2. In the aforementioned comment, defend which is better, the ninja, or the ninja assassin.
3. Send me a self addressed, stamped envelope with $7 in it. No Ponzi scheme or anything, I would just like to see how much cash I can accumulate.
4. Offer your counterarguments or explanations to the things I have said. Your counterarguments, sadly, will be wrong.
5. I will be writing at minimum on this forum, weekly, unless I join a gladiator troupe and am mauled by lions. If nothing from me, assume the mauling occurred.

Thank you for observing these rules, and Happy Reverse Ramadan- where you eat all day while the sun is up (sponsored by Old Country Buffet).

First, a part of a conversation that was heard Easter weekend by myself and my sisters, as completed by me (the first two lines are the truthy ones)

Guy1: So he calls 911...
Guy 2: The guy who shot him???
Guy 1: Fuck you.
Guy 2: Let's wrassle.

It really is amazing some of the things that you can hear people saying just standing somewhere, or riding on public transportation, or dressed as a character from your favorite anime game. People either legitimately think that others cannot hear them, or really have some of the most outlandish stories and choose to tell them within earshot of others.

When driving home to Louisville recently, I heard a radio station near Indianapolis implore me to stay tuned for the DJ PAUL BUNYAN M-M-M-M-MEGA MIX. I don't really understand why the announcer for DJ PAUL BUNYAN had such a horrible stutter trying to get out the word mega, or why the radio station insists on letting the man with the stutter announce their world famous DJ's with their wacky literary names. But what I r-r-r-r-r-really don't understand is the DJ name chosen by this man. Paul goddamn Bunyan? Now I know DJ names or the choice of career as a DJ is in and of itself an odd career path, but choosing Paul Bunyan as your DJ name would have to be rather circuitous. DJ's are known for yelling things out during their mixes, I know this from totally on the up and up downloading rap songs in college, where inevitably you would have to put up with a DJ yelling things throughout the song simply because you legally procured the song and paid all appropriate licensing rights. These DJ's would yell things like, "EXCLUSIVE!" "NEW SHIT!" "HEAVY HITTER" "THIS IS FOR MY STREET SWEEPERS" (who has their own street sweepers?) "FELL OFF" All of these, I am quite sure are rap terms I probably do not understand, nor should I, nor do I want to. Unfortunately, I was no longer in the area by the time I could have potentially h-h-h-h-heard DJ Paul Bunyan's awesome spinning, but I can only imagine the things this man would have loved to yell "SHOUT OUT TO BABE THE BLUE OX", "AXES", "FLAP JACK HOCKEY RINK REMIX", "FLANNEL THIS BITCH". I would only think that if the man moved on to DJ in a larger city like Chicago, he would change his name to a more familiar literary character like DJ AMELIA BEDILIA and her exclusive WACKY REMIXES.

And finally a commentary on society. Today as I took my normal train ride home from work, I arrived at my destination. Soon after I would see one of the most puzzling things I have ever seen: The narrow one person wide escalator next to the spacious staircase was not working. Yet, it was loaded with people. PEOPLE OF THE WORLD, WHEN AN ESCALATOR IS BROKEN, IT IS A FLIGHT OF STAIRS. Morons. I personally opted for the staircase. And gave the finger to all the idiots on the escalator. Also, I am afraid of escalators, so I have that going for me.

So party people, click on the ads surrounding this blog, preferably a few million times, follow my rules, and I will see you next week. I promise or something. Also, if anyone wants to be my agent and find me a patron who will pay me for my humorous writing, I will give you a generous 15% cut. I'm serious about that. Sell my words. I can always come up with more. Really, I can make up words with the best of them. I think I have nearly matched Shakespeare thus far.

Okay just so I understand it, in your wildest fantasy, you are in hell co running a bed and breakfast with the devil?

So, ABC, want to let me in on this trick you have tried to play on me? It's a trick in multi parts, so let me break it down.

1) Air a funny comedy show for years called Scrubs. Star a young actor in it named Zach Braff. His inner dialogue really makes the show go round.
2) In 2010, still air a show called Scrubs. however remove Zach Braff (I am not sure if he was just not in this episode, or not on the show completely). Either way, it sucked. I felt like a confused baby, fed solids for the first time. This was the equivalent of not getting mashed carrots or rutabaga or whatever fucked up shit people feed babies. (seriously, to borrow from the idea of Chris Rock, it's not like babies said they couldn't taste, they said they didn't have teeth. and the poor beings actually can't say anything.)
3) I therefore assume Zach Braff is dead, since what else is he supposed to do with his life? It led to this google search and subsequent results:
4) He evidently had some suicide rumors, which he denied on his facebook page, by saying, "Hi. I'm very much alive. Total internet rumor. Amazing how fast one douche can spread a lie. Be careful out there on the internets friends. Please spread the word... Video of me holding todays paper to follow... Love, zb."
5) Zach braff is a huge puppy. Go back to being on Scrubs, moron. Or else, what is your career arc? Scrubs then Scrubs, then a movie where you wore a garbage bag, then some more Scrubs, then denying suicide rumors. Nice. Puppy.
6) Since that is boring, here are the results I got by google image searching "wombats getting busy"
6) Unfortunately there was one picture brought up by this search of Stalin and Lenin playing guitars. Ahhhh...the beauty of the internet.
7) The internet also provided me with this fun this week. Hotmail, with whom I have had an email address since 1998, just prompted me to change my password for the first time ever. In terms of ridiculousness, this is up there with an old person being told they have to wear an adult diaper for the first time. I did not feel as though my account was in danger previously, but thankfully they told me it was. Someone might break into my email and read all the top secret things I have. Like emailing people ot inform them I am going to google wombats getting busy. That's national security right there. Thanks, Hotmail, which when I tell people they are my email provider I might as well tell them that my dial up connects within five minutes, it's that hip.
8)Enough Metamucil as well as candy bar ads. Give up. Eliminate your marketing budget and watch your bottom line soar. I have never purchased Metamucil nor have I been swayed by an ad for a candy bar, but I have this theory that ads are pretty expensive.


BYAH. Suck it.

The face of a child can say so much...especially the mouth part of the face

And assuming that the mouth of the child was as wise as me, it could tell you of my 2010 resolutions. Now of course I have my own resolutions, but those really only profit me, so rather I am choosing to share my resolutions for the rest of the world and the things it needs to change in 2010.

1 Hollywood, world of sports, others of the world, stop using retreads.

Hollywood- As I have a choice between watching Boise State and TCU play in some meaningless bowl game this evening (I mean seriously, how will we know if either of these teams is any good? Could they not play actual teams from major conferences? And why does one team have bright purple pants and call themselves the Horned Frogs? Surely an homage to TCU great Kurt Thomas who looked sort of like a horned frog) or mindless drivel on in the background, I went with CBS "comedy" night for some mindless drivel. Last I checked, CBS, comedy night meant shows should make me laugh at least a 30% to the canned laughter. They are hitting on 2%. A commercial with Taye Diggs and Miss Piggy was just funnier. But I digress. There have to be tons of actors out there. Talented actors. Then why is Charlie Sheen on TV? And then on this dork show the one guy from Roseanne is on it, as well as the girl from the show John Ritter was on when he died....she gets a pass, because....duh. Then CBS has also aired a commercial for a show with Julianna Marguiles of ER fame....movie career didn't work out so well? Just give up. Go get a real job. I want you to make me a $5 footlong next time I go to Subway. You probably have some money so it can be your own proud Subway franchise. I do opt for jalepenos on most sandwiches. (And Charlie Sheen, I understand you need as much money as you can to cover legal expenses. Someday I will be able to hire you to try and catch cheetos in your mouth....someday)

World of Sports- There are 30 NBA teams, 30 MLB teams, and 32 NFL teams. Yet it seems to me there is a pool of 100 possible coaches/managers for these teams. Give me a try, one of you sports. Probably not the NFL since I would bring the "Madden" coordinators into effect ( just have people playing Madden on the sidelines and putting the best plays into the game...it's too easy) and win too many Super Bowls. All I know is this, I watch many more baseball games than most managers, and NBA players just have to have their egos taken care of. I would let them play me 1 on 1 everyday. It would also provide laughter for everyone and I would be nothing short of a media darling.

Rest of the world- Fortune 500 companies, stop hiring CEO's who failed as CEO's somewhere else. Men and women who have on again off again relationships where your friends don't know when they can insult your significant other, knock it off. The insults have to come free and easy. City of Chicago, stop putting a bag of gravel in potholes that can swallow entire vehicles. ESPN let up on the Sportscenters every once in a while. S&P 500, stop acting like you are really that important. Judd Apatow....you are excused, please continue making the same film over and over.

That is my main resolution for 2010 to the world. Because whenever someone said "There is nothing new under the sun," I don't think it was any sort of requirement. More rock, less talk 2010. Especially since we don't even have flying suits yet.