Past Movie Reviews

FASTER - Aka...(I Wish This Movie Would Go) Faster

For Starters - you'll be seeing the word "once" and "brother" more than a few times in this review. I don't have a fucking thesaurus. Sue me!

When people finally meet me they say, “King Hippo” what turns you on? Once my inner monologue says, “I just met you and don’t know if you’re a cop – so I will skip the pre-pubescent fluff boy references”. When a non-offensive idea finally pops into my cerebellum - I say “a good movie.” Well, we already know that Hollywood ran out of original movie ideas back in the 70's. We also know that "good" actors have been replaced by "popular" actors who play the same character in every movie that they are in.

But for some reason the American lemmings embrace this. I, personally, would rather spend MY Saturday afternoons – alone – watching a movie, followed by a trip down to the gun show at the local redneck convention center. And, if TIME and MY GOD permit, try to sneak in a sci-fi convention and a reptile show.

We also know that with the aid of computers, tons of shortcuts have been made with respect to animation and computer generated special effects, rendering real talent irrelevant.

NOW, we have directors stealing other directors' STYLES. George Tillman Jr. can't decide if he wants to be Michael Mann, James Cameron, or Quentin Tarantino - so he decides to be ALL THREE at once! At least when Tarantino and Rodriguez team up for movies their styles are distinctive. Now we have to put up with mulatto hybrid directing.

Jesus Christ.

And to top it off, there is nothing original about this movie except for the artistic flare used when capping people in the head with .357 magnum hollow points. Mmmm, chunky gray matter. I wonder what time that gun show opens? There should be some single chicks there – even if they aren’t of the highest caliber. Mmmm, again.


I guess this is Dwayne Johnson's "comeback" from such stalwart movies like Escape to Witch Mountain and Tooth Fairy. Hey, everyone wants to broaden their horizons once in a while. Look at Dan Cedar - He's gone from pantaloons, to leopard print thongs to crotch less panties. Who would have thought? You know – we could use some racial diversity on the USS Enterprise. Maybe Dwayne could be in the next Star Trek movie. God that would be awesome to see him in one of those tight, uni-tard uniforms.


Anyway, "The Rock" plays "Driver" who's just completed 10 years in prison for a bank robbery he abetted with his brother and his brother's partner. As the flashback unfolds, their ill gotten loot is "appropriated" by a gang of "informants" working for an unknown leader. Driver witnesses his brother and partner dispatched "execution style" then he, himself, receives a metal slug in the back of his head. Flash forward and we find out that the bullet did not kill him and he now walks around with a metal plate holding together the back of his skull.

He is incarcerated for the crime, however, and during this period, hires a private investigator to get him the names and numbers of those involved in his brother's death.
Once Driver is released, the "prime directive" is to punish
those involved with the murder of his brother, with an early grave - courtesy of Messieurs Smith and Wesson. I wonder if “Red” will be working the Glock booth? They usually have free pizza and I’m starting to get hungry…

But, once again, I am off the beaten path. Back to the movie…The unknown leader of the group has other plans and hires a hit man to take Driver out. One bright acting spot in the movie is the lawman character played by Billy Bob Thornton (Aka ex MISTER Angelina Jolie) who we find has a much larger part in Driver's life than just wanting to apprehend him for his murder spree.

You wouldn’t know if by looking at him, but Billy Bob is a reptile lover as am I.

And no, asshole, a gerbil is not a reptile, you sick, fucking fuck!!


So if you're "into" mindless action flicks, this is your movie. If you've graduated past the fifth grade by now, you've already seen - it ad nauseum.

Translation: Dan Cedar will cream his pants halfway through the movie...and the hapless soul who takes his seat during the next screening will have to explain to his wife why his ass is covered in Dan Cedar's man goo.

It generally takes more priming of King Hippo’s pump than that. But with an afternoon of fondling a Glock, stroking a Gila Monster and a looksie at the original “Archie” appearance from Pep Comics #22 that was published on December 22, 1942 – This writer will have plenty of splooge material for at least another week.


Live Long and Prosper. Nanoo – Nanoo!!

Barely 2 naybobs

KING HIPPO

PARANORMAL ACTIVITY 2 - Aka...Aka King Hippo Projectile Vomits Again


No, not from the movie, from that incessant jiggly "home cam" filming.

I know what you’re saying, “Geez, King Hippo – If you don’t like having your octogeneric tummy upset by this “new age cinematography” then - WHY THE FUCK do you keep going to these jigglefest movies –time after time – instead of just nuzzling against your newly purchased AK-47 and 1948 DC Comic book that you picked you at last week’s Comic-Con?

Why don’t I JUST flip the damned channel on the circa 1967 black and white Zenith TV that my dad bought – sit at arm’s length and flip over to another Monk episode re-run?”

Let me see if I can explain this to you imbeciles reading this article – I DON’T PAY FOR TV - IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE FREE. If the price of my solo trip to the theatre means I have to pull a pharmacy heist to get some phenergan suppositories – SO BE IT!

HEY MOM – CAN I GET SOME MEATLOAF???

At least in THIS sequel, the "family" sets up several stabilized security cameras to monitor the premises after returning home one day - finding the house ransacked but mysteriously absent of any theft, save a necklace belonging to Kristi, which was given to her by her sister Katie - which we find out is her sister from the first Paranormal Activity movie.

This minmizes the "drunk holding the videocam" method of filming which is "all the rage" nowadays. Did you follow that? Did I actually use the phrase "all the rage?"

Geez, I need a drink, another sequel and some “alone time”.


Anyway – to my fellow Mensa members who saw Paranormal Activity and asked yourself - because, you too couldn’t get a date to this movie,
"Ok, so Katie and her sister were tormented as children by some 'entity', but what happened to Kristi?"

There's no answer to that question in the first movie.

WELLLLL, Paranormal Activity 2 answers just that query and takes a unique spin on the "prequel" and/or "sequel" that most profitable movies milk until all that's coming out of its teats is blood tinged smegma.

Paranormal Activity 2 is the "before" AND "after" Paranormal Activity 1.

Wow, what a concept!

Hey George Lucas! New way to pimp out your Star Wars franchise even more! Have parallel universes for all of your shitty Star Wars movies! Oh, and you and I will have words the next time we run into each other at the 2011 Comic-Con.


So, to clarify, the entity that possessed Katie in the first Paranormal Activity actually had its evil eye on Kristi first. Because, apparently, according to the family's illegal alien maid/au pair Martine, some family member in the sisters' past made a deal with the devil and promised the first male child born in the family.

Are you lost yet? Great – I will droll on – until your futility forces you to move on to another review or possibly another website. To HELL WITH YOU DAN CEDAR – I know that you are praying for the return of Abzug at this point.

But, I digress - then we find out that Kristi's son is the first male child born in the family in the last hundred years. What are the odds of THAT?!

They had birth control pills back at the turn of the 20th century? Really? I've just been informed by Dan Cedar that back then, the pills were called "coat hangers."


And furthermore, when was the last time you took the advice of some illiterate, superstitious wetback? Ok, NOT counting the advice I got
from that girl doing the donkey show at "boy’s town" in Nuevo Laredo back in 1999.


Anyway, Dad relents, and performs the Mexican spiritual "cleansing"
of his wife Kristi. Didn't they used to need a Catholic priest to do these types of exorcisms? Oh, my bad. I forgot that those priests spend most of their time "exorcising" the evil spirits living in the rectums of little boys. Why do you think they call it ‘The Rectory’?


Well, Dad is successful but, guess what? His rite of exorcism sends the entity into Kristi's sister Katie!

D'OH!!! Nice going Homer! Remind me not to piss you off!

And, as usual, the story leaves a lone survivor for another "sequel" - Dad's daughter from a previous marriage - who conveniently was on a "school trip" while the carnage was going on at the house.

Another "likely" coincidence.

About as "likely" as me going to see another sequel without my airline barfbag.

Now, if you’ll excuse me – I have to quit typing for a moment to re-wrap the aluminum foil on my Zenith’s rabbit ears while banging the shit of said TV – like my half-Korean father should have done to me – lo those many years ago.

King Hippo

Barely Three Naybobs

SKYLINE - Aka...Déjà Shit All Over Again

Haven't we seen this before? Wasn't it called Independence Day, District 9, Signs, War Of The Worlds, or some such? I thought that MAYBE this flick would have some unique twist, but, no, it's just another piece of shit comic book movie that relies on effects rather than story or storytelling.

Oh wait, it DOES have one piece of uniqueness to it - It has the most BLATANT "set up the sequel" ending that I have EVER seen in my life.

WTF!?!?! This is a MOVIE, not a TV series!!!!!!


Ya know, "back in the day" a certified turd such as this would have gone straight to video or pitched as a TV series. I guess the "current" strategy is to promote the shit out of it on TV, internet and movie previews in the hopes that enough morons, myself included, go to see it before the word gets out.

But, I know what you nitwits will say. Your little buddy Superman worked in comics, TV and the movies.

I should have known better, when, upon arriving at my local 48-plex, Skyline was showing on only one screen - and this was only the second weekend of its release. Fair Warning is not JUST a Van Halen album!!

So the movie opens up with our protagonist couple waking up to a bright light coming through the blinds of the bedroom of their celebrity friend's penthouse apartment. Of course, the boyfriend has to peek out and is instantly mesmerized by the white light - I guess it's like a train wreck - no matter how bad it is, you can't look away.

Kind of like my ear hair. Don’t tell me you aren’t staring!!

As he and another person in the apartment is drawn outside towards the light, flashback to "13 hours prior."


Remember watching Pulp Fiction? Did anyone need Tarantino to flash on the screen, "13 hours prior," or "24 hours later," or "at the same time the other scene was going on?" Are we fucking 7 years old? Can we not tell that if homeboy is being drawn over the railing by an alien light on top of a 25 story building and that if the next scene shows him yucking it up at the pool with his girlfriend and their friends, it obviously takes place prior? Has any one of you fucking fucks read a rhetorical paragraph? Consider your rhetorical paragraph cherry popped!!

Anyway, the aliens are either sucking up human bodies with the "light" or they're sending their marauding "Hulks" and "Things" to gather up humans who are hiding or won't look at the light.

Why are they doing this, you ask? Apparently “the mothership" needs human brains and brainstems to run their ships and make new "marauders." AGAIN, WTF!?!?!?! First, you tell me that one of the motherships is blown to dust by a nuke courtesy
of the USAF and within minutes, it's reconstructing itself and then tell me that it needs "planet earth" type HUMAN NEURONS?!?!?

HEY! How many of you reading this can make a self regenerating spaceship? WHAT? YOU CAN'T? HEY, IT ONLY TAKES HUMAN NERVOUS TISSUE - BREAK OUT THE STEM CELLS, GOMER!

So, let’s make an easy to follow parable for those folks that voted this current president into office.

Christopher Reeve falls off a horse. Gets paralyzed. Finds the largest group of unathletic, nit-witted humans on earth. Then sobs his way on to CSPAN (without the possibility of going to commercial). Then - breathing through some kind of $80,000 vacuum respiratory device, splurts out – “If ….(ugghhh)…. I could…(gulp)…just get the….(gasp)…..stem cells…(slurp)…from…(gulp)….all of our…(swallow)….congressmen’s brain stems – then…(gasp)…I may be able to….(gulp)…fly again!”

"I'LL BITE?!?!" Ya know, you see this statement in print and maybe in old Twilight Zone episodes from the 60's, but have you EVER heard anyone actually SAY IT in real life? Jesus H. Christ, do people still wear PANTALOONS?

Hmm, I thought it was a long shot, but sure enough - right there on the internet is Dan Cedar wearing a pair of pantaloons. My bad.

Oh, and how many times have you heard a middle aged white guy spurt out, “My bad”?

Looks like this is your lucky day, Superman! King Hippo’s stem cells have successfully transferred from this half-witted website to your brain stem. Now, as fast as a speeding bullet - get on the phone to your congressman and Michael J. Fox. Make sure you get the funding for stem cell development approved - before the gun-clinging,
bible thumpers take over “the mothership”.

The clock tower is a ticking and unless you or your little buddy Christopher Reeve can fly fast enough to turn back the hands of time…your future consists of Truth, Justice and the American way (circa 1955)!!

Oh, my bad, Mr. Reeve can’t make it?

Now bend over, grab ankles and relax – I have a Flux Capacitor Probe that I pulled out of my retrofitted DeLorean which can barely reach your brain stem. This is going to hurt me - more than it will hurt you.

Kind of like Skyline 2!

King Hippo

THE GREEN HORNET - Aka...Where Is Peter Sellers When You Need Him?

Don’t judge a comic book by its cover – you racist, pre-judging, acid-dropping, cum gummers. Drop the binky. Let it harden in the shag carpet for a few minutes while I review movie, Joe. It ain’t Full Metal Jacket, but it will have to do for now.

I know what you are thinking. Boy, are we ass-dragging the bottom of the barrel, or what? I guess we've run out of every other comic book character to prostitute? I know that the Marvel and DC character movies have been pumped out at a Da Nang hooker pace, but this one is a little odd. Maybe the movie rights were cheaper to obtain, than say, Brother Power the Geek. Yeah, I know, Google it and come back to the review. I’m sure you have nothing better to do than researching King Hippo’s peripheral comic references to a misspent youth in my parent’s basement.

The real surprise here is that this is a pretty entertaining movie, even though it can't decide if it wants to be drama, comedy, camp, or action. This may be due solely to the fact that ADHD addled Seth Rogen co-wrote the story. And for some reason, I can't always tell how funny he's trying to be. He's not quite as obtuse as Andy Kaufman, but sometimes his humor borders on the creepy, ala Observe and Report. But, far be it from me to pre-judge a Jewish Canuck.

Anyway, the unique angle of the Green Hornet is that he positions himself as a "bad guy" so that he can pretty much have face-to-faces with the seedier parts of society at will. Fortunately, he’s not in Cambodia and he has a would-be Bruce Lee sidekick named Kato to handle the physical stuff. Unfortunately, that makes him persona non grata to both the crooks and the fuzz. Kind of like when Dan Cedar struts into the local police station wearing his red sequined party dress and "fuck me" pumps to report his latest "rape" committed, no doubt, by his wheelchair bound, paraplegic, colostomy-sporting neighbor.

At least the whole movie scenario is realistic. Rogen is the do-nothing perpetual frat boy who has an epiphany that he wants to fight crime, and, when he decides to actually do it, he's a bumbling idiot. Hence, the comedic angle. And spare me the George W. Bush - Middle East references – you bunch of hippy anarchists.

Anyway, the funniest part of the movie is when Rogen decides that he can take Kato in hand to hand combat. Upon vicariously experiencing your 861st LSD flashback, I was mentally transported in time to the days of Return of the Pink Panther when Inspector Clouseau opens the refrigerator to find that an icicle encrusted Cato has been waiting in there for hours to surprise attack him...then proceeds to destroy the entire apartment while fighting.

Which got me thinking, "Kato?" and "Cato?"

Hmm, something fishy here - they both speak that stereotypical broken english, are both 5'6" and both are adept in the martial arts. As I recall, they both look very similar.

Aah, who am I kidding? All those Chinks look alike.

Now, pre-judging American Joe, I know you should have seen this coming from the first line of the review. Pick your binky up off the floor. Ignore the leftover shag crustaceans and shove it in my mouth. Me sucky sucky long time!


WALL STREET: MONEY NEVER SLEEPS - Aka...Sphincterpalooza

Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps was directed by Oliver Stone.

WHAT HAPPENED OLIVER?? STONED???

Such promise sweetly resided in my little brain as it struggled to remember what made Wall Street so good, but then it gave up the effort of reaching back to the 80’s and simply remembered that it was a fucking good movie. Hey, Rip Van Winkle – wake up and come back to the present.

I fully realize that twenty years ago Michael Douglas and Charlie Sheen was a hot ticket. Not so much in the ‘10’s. Michael looks like a combination of an oncologist/plastic surgeon’s playground gone wrong, and Charlie? Well, we all have those days where we need to beat the shit out of our porn star dinner date back at the hotel. But his days have been more like years. Tack that pubic public, exposure onto the disappointment donkey tail, as well….

I think there’s a pun there, no?

PORN star. Donkey TAIL. As in getting a piece of tail? Which is like getting a piece of ass. Which brings us full circle to the essence of this movie - it sucked ass!

And NO!! Anal Lingus will not increase the climactic pleasure of this suck fest.

Flip over to the next page in your Kama Sutra Handbook, Ollie!

Pucker-Up, Anal Cup!

So there was my brain. All prepared to experience a slick Oliver Stone flick, but soon my senses were inundated with scene after scene of sappy acting with characters akin to the high-functioning downs syndromed woman running for Senator who couldn’t recite the U.S Constitution because she didn’t believe that Senators consulted the Fucking Constitution in their line of work.

I don’t remember her name…Miss Dumb Fuck or Ms. Stupid Ass, something like that. (NOTE: She didn’t win – we the people - got THAT one right.)

I wish I could say that the plot was better, but it was right there contributing to the Hoover inhalation of my nether regions. Good God, did Oliver even show up at the set?

Maybe he was getting the dailies while giving Hugo Chavez a rim job.

Seriously? I doubt this is a spoiler, but who didn’t see Gekko setting up the scam on his daughter from the Get Go?? And I’m sorry, but were we really supposed to believe that the boyfriend was going to outsmart Michael Douglas AND Josh Brolin??

C’MON!!

We have seen their fathers give us the “greatness” of Sea Hunt and Capricorn One. Apparently the shit-stained apples don’t fall too far away from the DefecatoryTree.

Give us, the audience, a little bit of credit! Sure, Jackass3D has been Number 1 at the box office lately, but that does not indicate stupidity of the masses! It just means that some of YOU like seeing stupid people doing stupid stuff for no reason whatsoever.

At least Jackass 3D blatantly advertises its stupidity. On the other hand, with Oliver Stone attached so blatantly to this movie….

But I digress…Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps lures the movie-goer in with promises of a smart, sexy and suspenseful sequel.

Once this movie-goer is pleasantly distended from her box of Junior Mints and settled in for said sequel - it tricks her, and instead sucks the next 133 minutes from her life via her anus.

HEE HAW!! HEE HAW!! [/angry donkey noises!]

Or maybe that is what a tantric anal orgasm feels like!

CYRUS - Aka...Blinding or Castration is a better option than suffering through this movie!

Cyrus is the story of two people who meet and attempt to fall in love, but the woman has a grown son living at home who is determined to let no man come between him and his mom. Does this ring a mythological bell? Here’s a hint – think of a sexual dysfunctional complex that starts with an O and ends in a pus…that’s right – Oedipus!

Remember him? He killed his dad in self defense and then fell in love with his mom and had four children with her. Now, all this didn’t transpire at the dinner table, mind you. This was a twisted joke played on him over his entire lifetime by Fate. And Fate strikes again, promising to deliver a funny movie, but the joke is on the unsuspecting audience who is treated instead, to a pile of steaming shit!!

Granted, no father is unknowingly slaughtered, and while it was hard enough to imagine Jonah Hill as Marisa Tomei’s son, it’s just as impossible to consider John Reilly as her romantic love interest.

Seriously, how does one get past that hair? Or that face?

Let’s just go ahead and blind the casting director at this point.

But it’s not just the cast that makes you want to stick a knife in your eye. It’s the awkward social situations that string together scene after scene like stale popcorn tinsel on a Christmas tree. Seeing John dance by himself at a party with no one joining him until WAY after he should have stopped dancing; seeing John and Marisa make out; seeing Jonah in his underwear carrying a butcher knife; just seeing John in his underwear; seeing Marisa and Jonah wrestle at the park in front of total strangers; seeing Jonah and John wrestle at a wedding reception; the scenes just keep abusing the senses and making one pray to the gods for blindness, much like that recently blinded casting director.

I did laugh a few times, but that could have been due to nerves, as that I was on a second date. The first one had gone surprisingly well, so I was excited to be on a second one! For this outing, I picked the restaurant and he picked the movie. And how ironic he picks this movie about a single mother in the dating scene, no?

If he thought he was going to get lucky afterwards, he was shit out of luck. Not just the movie sucked, but he did too – he kept covering my eyes when Marisa and John were making out.

Who the fuck does that?

Oh, yeah, my fucking DAD, that’s who. Oh, yeah, and his small fucking hands smelled like cabbage. When I was 6. The carnival supervisor called and said that they needed him STAT. It turns out that THE GUY that gets blown by The Bearded Lady called in sick!

Paging Doctor Freud!!

Of course, actually seeing the aforementioned scenes caused me to gag a little in my mouth, but what was this guy thinking? He was funny? He was providing parental guidance? He was still in junior fucking high? I wish I could say he only did it once –but he did it every time. In light of such asinine, prepubescent-driven behavior, I no longer felt guilty that he had to fork over eleventy billion dollars for dinner, tickets, drinks and snacks.

Let’s just go ahead and castrate this asshole for picking this stupid movie and for being an idiot. Maybe if my date knew of the potty-mouthed trash that I regularly spew – on this here virgin forsaken website – maybe he would let me out of the romper room for toddlers where he assumes that I am kept before he picks me up to get me a balloon, get a snowcone and take me to the new Wiggles movie premiere.

Back to the review. To make the plot even more unbearable, John’s confidante is his ex-wife (who is trying to plan her wedding), but he keeps the verbal diarrhea hotline connected with her on all of his issues around Marisa and Son at all hours of the day and night.

Had her soon-to-be husband mule-kicked his ass and told him to "fuck off", then it may have added an element of humor seen in most John Reilly flicks. But alas, the audience is not treated to such. I don’t think even praying to sweet Baby Jesus could have saved this motion picture.

Instead, both she and her soon-to-be husband support his every co-dependent need - up to the day of the wedding. And he manages to fuck up their special day because of issues around Marisa and Son.

Surprised? Not even THIS audience was,either. And, a after a quick scanning of the patrons, this didn’t exactly appear as a reconvening of the Algonquin Roundtable. ALGONGQWHAT? You ask? Google it, you lazy, dumber than I am - mother fucker!

Anyway, for an hour and a half, this ovie mangled my cranium with its impossible coupling of Marisa and John; preached in Hollywood fashion about how relationships should work - as if they have any experience in that realm; showed both Jonah and John in their underwear (and yes, Marisa is shown in hers, too.

At least I think so…the fucker next to me had his hand over my eyes!!

In this case, the myth kicked ass - while the movie simply sucked…as did my date…

Figuratively, not literally, you sick Cretin Fuck!

Oedipus may have been blind to the truth of his own parentage – but he could see this piece of shit movie coming all the way from Athens!


DINNER FOR SCHMUCKS - Aka...Dinner at Dan Cedar's

Ok, I guess maybe I had my hopes up that this was going to be this years The Hangover. Unfortunately for me, it was more like Shallow Hal. What's up with a comedy always having to have some character with the "heart of gold?"

Or some sort of "message?"

If I want a good cry – I will personally lance the boil on my anus or alternately saunter out of my grandma’s house where I am “temporarily” residing - explore the crawl space under her garage and take a deep whiff of the muriatic acid burned flesh of my five most recent victims until my own body’s misdirected lacrimal immune response takes over.

Yes!! I was crying. You illiterate Asshole!!

Screw that shit! Maybe that's why the French love Jerry Lewis so much - just a bumbling idiot - sans any tear jerking "message."

Anyway, this Americanized homage to Francis Veber's Le Diner de Cons survives solely on the performances of Steve Carrell, Paul Rudd and Jermaine Clement who brilliantly plays the avant garde artiste Kieran.

Yeah, I know – I’m sure some of you high functioning retards will say “Geez, Robin Williams or Jim Carrey could have pulled off Carrell’s role with no problemo.” Hmm, why is it that a schizophrenic bipolar disorder automatically makes you a “comedian?”

Anyway, straight man Paul Rudd plays “Tim,” a sixth floor corporate schlub who’s been stuck there for years desperately trying to impress his boss enough to get to the highly coveted seventh floor of the corporate tower. During a strategy session, he intrigues his boss enough to garner an invite to the clandestine “dinner for the talented” in which each corporate invitee has to bring an eccentric person to dinner for the enjoyment of all. As a bonus, the most talented guest gets a trophy and the corporate lackey who brought him/her/it gets bonus points from the boss.

Quite by chance, Tim accidently hits Steve Carrell’s character “Barry” in the street and their relationship begins to flower, much like Dan Cedar’s collection of women’s clothing which he claims he only wears on weekends. Barry is a classic geek who becomes a leach on Tim. Tim is torn about the relationship because as much as he cannot stand Barry, he needs him to impress his boss at the dinner. Barry’s “special” talent, aside from his “vibrant” personality is his ability to dress up dead mice in various dioramas, mostly whimsical and very well done.

King Hippo has a similar talent but for some reason, people are turned off by my taxidermy skills on the female human body. I long to be discovered, ala Jeffrey Dahmer, circa, 1991. Meanwhile I will continue to roam the streets of Milwaukee.

There are the usual sub plots going on with Tim’s relationship with his current girlfriend, a stalking previous girlfriend, and Kieran, the aforementioned “artiste.” Zach Galifianakis almost steals the show with his portrayal of “Thurman,” Barry’s coworker at the IRS.

The night of the dinner brings a comedy of errors as each idiot savant takes turns unwittingly making complete asses out of themselves for the amusement of the corporate executives, strangely named Reed, Pelosi, Rangel, Frank and Obama.

That smell?

It’s not rotting democratic flesh.

It’s sarcasm.

Of course, in the end, the dweebs all extract their revenge and everyone’s happy…and Dan Cedar has himself a good cry.

2 Naybobs

IRONMAN 2 - Aka...Downey gets out of the rest of these stupid fucking movies!

Old Dan Cedar began this day in such a very good mood.

Visiting a long, leggy friend out in Phoenix and a nice trip to the movie theatre.

So….How the hell did I get to be in a bad mood?

Count them 8, 9, 10, 11 commercials.

Eleven FUCKING COMMERCIALS!!

Then – the previews. Jesus!!

The local Gigaplex is filled with all of the typical blockbuster-basting right winged Arizona-racist skinheads that regularly take their 20-something tatted-up MMA-asses to a day at the movies with the family. And then there is Juanita and her kids de cinco – OR MORE.

And all of this unanimity of the races to purposefully ruin my movie. And my day – in general!!

Then take Downey, Scarlett Jo, and some black guy in a movie driven by a bunch of CGI histrionics instead of characters.

Not what I had anticipated - considering the VERY good pre-quel.

And the black guy that IS kicking ass IS NOT the president of these United States trying to keep the tar off of the cry babies in Louisiana. It is actually the over-rated, under-emoting - Don Cheadle – playing Ironman’s sidekick. The lack of chemistry between Cheadle and Downey won’t confuse anyone with that of the charisma of the Redford/Newman tandem. Or even of Watson and Crick.

Cheadle has apparently raided Downey’s trailer of EVERY last Quaalude.

Even though this reviewer is not a big fan of Denzel Washington….I guarantee that Denzel shows more emotion while taking his fourth shit of the day. Why not hire him? Or who could have added more hilarity than the recently stroked Gary Coleman in a final role of a life wasted. Kind of a ‘Mini-Me’ for Ironman.

We only have to look to the post-mortemed deification of Heath Ledger as a role model in a superhero sequel.

“And the Oscar goes to Gary Coleman.”

And in lieu of the AC/DC soundtrack – maybe an homage to Ronnie James Dio.

Fitting for a movie that was DOA.

But, no such luck, Dio fans.

Then what the hell is good about this movie, Dan Cedar?

I must say that Scarlett Johansson is more than a handful!

Scarlett Jo is the tit for Downey’s tat.

She ginchily plays Natasha Romanoff.

Is she good, bad or a little of both?
Grrroowwwllll…..

The REAL bad guy is Mickey Rourke. I truly believed that he should have won an Academy Award for his role in The Wrestler, but then…..

Run-on sentence warning!

Rourke is still playing exactly the same Winstrol-roided-role as he did in The Wrestler – except with a Russian scientist-accent and a lot of overwrought computer graphics to make his role – and this movie – one big fucking cartoon instead of a great, character-driven, irreverently-witted story that was - excuse the fuck out of me, John McCain, an earmark of the first Ironman.

Even his god damned, disgusting fingernails look the same.

I truly think Rourke is just playing himself.

It was about the 2 hour mark –
yes, you read that right – that the two year-old sitting on Mama’s lap (and facing me) started singing her rendition of the great ‘American’classic – Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star – en Espanol. Never once did la madre smack the shit out of this ankle biting, future bean picking pendeja. Or even better – plan ahead – have one of your seventeen kids ALREADY en la casa babysit little Christina Aguilera II.

And spend an enjoyable 150 minutes in the relative peace and quiet of a suburban Cinemark with 312 of your closest, obese, sweat-stenched, quasi-countrymen.

How do you say – ‘Shut that fucking brat up’ in Spanish….??

I don’t know - but kicking the SHIT out of the back of this fat-fuck’s chair translated quite well!

On top of that – there is this drawn-out back story, with Samuel L. Jackson, that is trying to set up the next movie.

Of which Robert Downey obviously wants no part. He emphasizes his sentiment in the final scene when he says, “You can’t afford me.”

In other words – “You guys can keep trying to bilk the ‘American’ public of every last peso that crosses the border for the next 20 years – but I want NO part of it.”

There is more to this movie than what I have re-capped here. But it’s just not worth the time and effort. I just wish the writer/director had my ‘enough is enough’ attitude – 45 minutes earlier.

Go see this movie for Downey’s hammed-up brilliance and Scarlett Jo’s reverse cow-girl, cat moves.

Or if you just want to irritate some gringos while your local Arizona lockdown is at maximum capacity thanks to the state legislature’s attempt to incarcerate 20 percent of the state’s population.

No room at the inn with a stainless shitter to drop off the kids for a couple of hours?

Come on down.

But if someone asks you for tickets that you used to get into the theater…

They are NOT being racist.

Just making sure that you didn’t sneak in the back door.

Old Dan Cedar's Best and Worst of 2009

Worst Movies of 2009

1) Where The Wild Things Are – Many things made this a ridiculously bad movie, but none worst than the academic elitist movie reviewers trying to goad us into watching this piece of monkey excrement by telling us it was a fine retelling of a children’s classic.

2) Where The Wild Things Are – OK, so now you get it. I hated this movie. Maybe it’s because I don’t TRY to go see GOOD movies. As defined by the critics. Oh, yeah, I forgot. Those guys are Morons!

3) Where The Wild Things Are – Last Thing: It’s up for a fucking Academy Award!! Am I in the fucking Twilight Zone?

4) Public Enemies – Johnny Depp – another favorite of every weird fucking fuck that ever completed his PhD – didn’t know what to do with it - then used daddy’s connections at The New Yorker to get a job in the copy room until he could blow his way into writing movie reviews. This movie was long, felt longer and tried unsuccessfully to rip off a great movie –Bonnie and Clyde.

5) Inglourious Basterds – Tarantino continues his slide down hill. Just goes to show you that a movie with a great premise and clever dialogue doesn’t have to be great – or even good.

Best Movies of 2009

1) (500) Days of Summer – For all of those cynical folks – like me- that thought it was impossible to have an original romantic comedy. Consider me Summer schooled.

2) District 9 – Aliens invade the world. Again, I thought this was downtrodden earth. But a wonderful performance by Sharlto Copley as a bumbling corporate drone with a heart of gold overcomes the low expectations. And no – I don’t go see movies for CGI!

3) UP – When I first saw this movie – I didn’t expect to see anything better in a year. Brilliant storytelling that made me cry like a baby. Yes, again!

4) Star Trek – The odds that I put on this movie capturing the characters and writing from the days gone by of The Wrath of Khan and previous – were lottery. A great young cast of characters and don’t forget about the writing.

5) Food, Inc – I am not much of a conspiracy buff. But this story is educational, a little paranoid and a little preachy. In a good way. One thing for sure – I won’t ever think about dinner the same way again.

THE BACK-UP PLAN - Aka...VAGINA! VAGINA! VAGINA!

That’s right, this movie is all about that most hallowed tunnel of love on which most men desire to float - and where most women try to snatch their dream dick!

Not only do you have to own a vagina to even consider seeing this movie, but that’s the focal point of the entire film. And - not just J-Lo's love gash.

Granted – you aren’t expecting
a Terry Zwigoff production. It’s J-Lo! NOT Scarlett Jo!

The Back-up Plan is that J-Lo is using artificial insemination (A.I.) - because she can’t get pregnant. And, as our re-titled premise suggests, this movie begins with J-Lo flat on her back, legs in the air, waiting for the artificial insemination to saturate her vagina. Wait, I think I mean uterus. Either way, the movie never recovers from this point. It continues a downhill slide (all puns intended) with scene after scene of J-Lo trying to come across as a twenty-something with maternal options.

>J-Lo is still in her 20's? Seems only 50 years ago that she burst on the scene to rave reviews in Selena. Followed by decades of People magazine articles on all minutiae of her quasi-interesting love life. And the multitude of stories on, of course, her ass!!

So, she has stretched her talent from her ass to her vagina in a mere half a century!

A virtual public episiotomy.

Now, you may be asking why your humble reviewer bothered seeing this Womb fest in the first place? Well, a) I have a vagina (but not a uterus, not anymore); and b) I was hoping for another Maid in Manhattan. Yea, I said it – I liked MIM.
It made the common girl believe she too could have an ass the size of Miami, don an expensive suit and land a gorgeous, sensitive, successful guy with just a random encounter in the park.

My hopes were soon dashed because after the opening scene in the ob-gyn’s office J-Lo dons an expensive dress with the same Miami-Sized Ass and proceeds to meet a gorgeous, sensitive, successful guy through a contrived struggle over which of the two future love interests should get a taxicab.

Whilst the guy, Alex O’Loughlin is easy on the eyes, he is not even close to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Back to the riveting saga of J-Lo’s vagina…

As fate would have it, that random encounter over a taxicab sparks a sequence of manufactured events where they meet up again, go on a date, and he turns out to be a cheating son of a bitch. Now - keep in mind that this is a love story - where every cheating son of a bitch is just a contrivance that will allow a happy ending to be splayed forth in Act 3 on the unsuspecting dunces huddled around the big screen.

The boy love interest is so drawn to J-Lo that he just can’t help himself and we have to suffer through his pining for her with big puppy eyes and stolen glances at her "Miami".

Not the vagina – not yet.

That’s later - in a BARN FULL OF CHEESE – that Alex’s family owns. And they do it like rabbits because
DING, DING, DING… she’s actually been pregnant since the original A.I. and rampant with elevated hormones! Yes! So, he’s a cheating son of a bitch and she is a whore.

Another contrivance.

And here begins the truly awful dynamics of the movie. Watching the two adjust from horny rabbits to responsible adults is brutal.

And - as predicted - He turns out to NOT be a cheating s.o.b., but, instead - a slacker “student” who was “studying” with an ex-girlfriend. She, of course, isn’t a “whore”, but rather a woman with no “acting skills” that reverts to her real-life instincts when presented with a role that she can't handle.

There is another manufactured plot twist where J-Lo joins a Single Mothers support group charter. Yada, Yada, Yada…turns out the support group’s leader and her pregnant lover are gonna be mommy and daddy (yes, they’re lesbians). J-Lo gets invited to their party where the next Vaginal – if not Seminal - moment occurs in a kiddie pool! With full frontal shots of the pregnant lesbian’s fetus – or is it a baby, now??? Completely emerging from her VAGINA!
It is at this point when the movie loses all credibility.

Clearly, they were attempting to emulate the shock value that “Knocked Up” created with Heigl’s vagina shot at birth. And it failed. Epically. Even J-Lo passing out in the kiddie pool full of after-birth couldn’t save the scene. It was simply gross.

Thankfully, I had already consumed my box of junior mints because I am NOT exaggerating.

It was gross!!

Expectedly, the movie drags on and on and on. The Back-up Plan becomes The Break-Up because Alex can’t prove to J-Lo enough that he wants the babies that are about to drop out of her vagina. (NOTE: not only did the A.I.take the very first time, but she’s having twins! That’s gonna stretch out the vagina, no doubt!)

J-Lo takes the boyfriend back and the next day gives birth to two ugly red-headed babies. And if only that was the end of it…no, no, there is more.

The boyfriend turns out to be an aspiring restaurant owner and proposes to her at the grand opening of his place. He dedicates it all to her, blah, blah, blah…

And just when you thought it was FINALLY over, they embrace, he picks her up and spins her around and she promptly vomits into a garbage can…just like the patrons did - upon exiting the theater after suffering through an hour and thirty-eight minutes of a crappy vagina story.

If there is a sequel, my Miami ass is not sitting through it. But I WILL guarantee that there will be hordes o’ overly-sentimental dumbasses that will plunk down their hard-earned cash - so that their love-forsaken hearts can be whisked away on another excessively sentimental trip down another love canal to nowhere. I think there is a Springsteen song somewhere in there.

THE DISAPPEARANCE OF ALICE CREED - Aka...You Fight Like A Girl

The trailer for this movie goes something like this.

Everything was planned.

Everything was predicted.

Then something went wrong.

Dead on…

Kind of like this country…

Remember – two years ago – we were entering the era of post-racial America – lead by the greatest Kenyan-American president of our great country’s history. We had a young virulent, giant-cocked leader of our country that would save America’s babies from the disasters of green-house gasses, greedy republicans and give us what would finally set us free:

Universal Health Care For All.

Truth, Justice and the Socialistic way.

Anyway, back to the film. Who the fuck is Alice Creed and why should we fucking care?

Of course, the only way that Old Dan Cedar starts caring - is by being drawn in to a good story. This movie is about the kidnapping of this chick – Alice.

I was instantly drawn in to the story by the 10 minute – almost unspoken – set up of the two kidnappers – Danny and Vic – getting prepped for the abduction.

It’s fast paced and really well done.

But – unless it’s a short film
- ten minutes does not a movie make.

Alice (the snatchee) gets the B and D and S and M.

Never met a girl that doesn’t seem a little sexier with a ball gag.

Like I said - I am into this movie - Happy as a clam.

I am ensconced in a Bondage, Dominance, Sadism and Masochism thriller.

Then – the problems begin.

Instead of this being a BSDM movie – it turns in to an LGBT “thriller”. For those of you not playing along with the newest acronyms - that is Lesbian Gay Bi-sexual Transgender

It’s not The Usual Suspects and there is no Keyser Soze.

Turns out – Alice Creed (Gemma Arterton) is a spoiled-ass rich, entitled girl that doesn’t appreciate much of anything that she has been given by her daddy and thinks that the ONLY BOY for her is a BAD BOY.

The problem is that her ‘bad boy’ (Danny) also has a hankering for his own ‘bad boy’ (Vic).

For those of you not doing the mental geometry – this is a called a love triangle.

Not that I want to pre-judge all prison bunk buddies, but… as it turns out - these hostage takers had been oil rigging while in stir.

But our female protagonist (Alice) isn’t a passive damsel in distress. This is one of the strongest female lead performances that I have ever seen. The movie is worth seeing – just to see a strong willed female not just lie there and take it. She is out to save her own ass – the boys can go fuck themselves – and they probably will - if given half a chance.

Here is the other deal. The performances by the two male leads are equally as strong. So, what goes wrong?

Not that I want to personally judge your sexual predilections. It’s just that since the surprise package that I got watching The Crying Game – some 18 years ago, my sexual orientation trust factor has been markedly diminished.

This movie – does what a lot of “thriller” movies tend to do – there is a tendency for the movie to want to put so many twists and turns in that – the story becomes implausible.

So, this movie is the exploration of a love triangle for your Fucked-Up Proposition 8 generation of overly-entitled bi-sexual, homosexual and heterosexual Democrats out to protect our babies from the maniacal Republicans that want to bring back the plantation and want the Supreme Court to revert back to its Plessy vs. Ferguson – separate but equal view of the constitution.

Not that the Republicans get a pass from your reviewer, Old Dan Cedar. The engineer that lives next door to me - trims his trees – on a ladder – with a fucking circular saw.

Good idea.

Let’s not give back control of congress to these guys – just yet.

But the judicial system has spoken. We are, now, in not just a post-racial, but post-sexual age where sex and sexual orientation doesn’t matter. You can marry whoever the hell you want – because it’s justice for all and THIS is the American way.

Well – at least until the next election…I don’t remember this being part of the Superman comics. Maybe this is the Bizarro America with the Black Superman. He swoops down to save the lady’s bi-sexual baby falling from the skyscraper – accidentally thrown out with the bathwater.

An unexpected twist – an unnecessary turn.

Then something goes wrong.

Maybe Keyser Soze killed the baby!

Maybe President Mandingo ate your baby!

And like that – he was gone! (I Hope)

AVATAR - Aka…. Tranquility Base, Here. The Hippies Have Landed!!

As I watched and read recent articles interviewing James Cameron on his latest and greatest – Avatar, I couldn't help but admire this Canadian born, Cal State Fullerton dropout and megalomaniac director as he reminisced about his decades old, dream world of Pandora - and tireless effort bringing it to fruition as an adult - as the technology became available to put this epic to film.

He spoke of inventing the entire world and the twelve years he took to make the movie. Inventing it’s unique language and culture in his mind. The entire world was borne out of his love of sci-fi and his vivid, LSD-fueled imagination. I was in awe as I read the article explaining how his singular $300 million brainchild was finally brought to the big screen.

And to think in 2005 when the most expensive (1 million dollars) porno ever produced was released – Pirates XXX – it was almost completely ignored by CNN. The truth was only made clear during March sweeps when Larry King was fearless enough to air his week-long special interviewing the female “actresses”.

Give me a break!! James Cameron shits a million dollars after a four-course meal.

And where is Larry King now? Replaced by a brain-dead TMZ reporter – only saved from walking the streets of Hollywood by a chance-encounter with her producer’s designer sofa.

Why should the headless skirt interviewing Cameron check the credibility of ANYTHING he says? She was probably so excited to get this gig; she had smegma running down her leg from her mange encrusted snatch.

Let's get something straight here. Cameron DID NOT invent MOBY DICK - in this movie, contrary to what his blowhole is spouting.

But let's get more specific.

1. The story: Humans invade an alien planet looking to plunder its vast stores of Unobtanium buried in various parts of the planet/moon Pandora. Of course, the mining is being funded by a corporation whose only goal is GREED. (Hmm, sounds like Halliburton) The only problem is that the indigenous people - the Na’vi - stand in the corporation's way.

So, the paramilitary outfit that accompanied the corporation decides to open up a can of whoop ass and force the issue. (Hmm, sounds like Blackwater)

As is de rigueur for liberal propaganda, all corporations are money hungry, heartless, faceless entities whose only goal is to rape the natural resources available to it and, once exhausted, move on to the next pillaging project.

The military is populated by a bunch of mindless, soulless demons hell-bent on destruction and mayhem.

IF ONLY THIS WERE TRUE!

I guess no one has noticed how the US military has been castrated since Vietnam. Ahhh, and the Na’vi, the natives, pure as the wind driven snow. Unable to commit ANY crime against nature. (Hmm, sounds like fill-in-the-blank-of-your- favorite-North-American-Indian-Tribe). Yeah, I guess the big hearted libs never heard of the Mayans, or the Aborigines of New Guinea, or any current indigenous genocidal maniacs running most of Africa.

Oh, and you've always gotta have the team of "scientists" on hand with any exploration to a new frontier. And, how apt that the head scientist is none other than that ugly lib, Yale graduate skank Sigourney Weaver.

Of course, as you all know, '"scientists" are the most humble, intelligent, empathetic and caring humans ever known to man. They are completely apolitical and objective. Isn't it funny when a "scientist" breaks into a sealed tomb to pilage its contents, he/she's hailed for the education and knowledge it brings, but if anyone else does it, he's a scumbag grave robber or a ghoul?

Or in Dan Cedar's case, a necropheliac with a fetish for Extreme MILF Mummy Corpses, starring Marilyn Chambers.

But I digress. As we all know, it's the "scientists" who always throw a spanner into the gears of progress and "save the day."

NOW SOMEONE - TELL ME WHAT PART OF THIS MOVIE'S STORY IS "ORIGINAL?" OR NOT A LIBERAL'S WET DREAM?
HEY CAMERON !!
Kevin Costner ALREADY BEAT YOU TO THIS IDEA - IT'S CALLED Dances with Wolves!! NOT Dances with ET !!!

2. The movie's design - I can reference every single flora, fauna, and topography to either various artists, designers, or to nature itself. THERE IS NOTHING ORIGINAL TO THE VISUALS OF THIS MOVIE.

Has anyone ever heard of Roger Dean? J. Allen St. John? Frank Frazetta? Alan Aldridge? Edgar Rice Burroughs? Al Williamson? William Stout? Alphonse Mucha?

How about the flora of Pandora? You could transfer soft corals, feather dusters, and anemones from the ocean, make them bigger and transplant them to land. Voila!! Instant "unique" terrestrial foliage. How about the Na’vi themselves? EVER HEARD OF SEA MONKEYS?

No, not brine shrimp, Opie.

Those stupid comic book ads from the 60's and 70's which convinced every nitwit kid that for $1.99 you could get a family of bipedal, web footed, smiling humanoid sea creatures delivered straight to your mailbox.

Just substitute smooth blue skin for the scales and long black hair for the dorsal fins and there you have it - instant Na’vi. Just add water, a packet of "secret" powder, and feed frequently with baker's yeast...If we could just get Butters to dump a load in the aquarium, we could really up the IQ level, too. And if you don’t get the South Park reference, I am afraid that we can’t be best-friends, Cletus!!

3. The Na’vi’s unique language – OK…YOU can give Cameron credit here.

But it sure as hell sounds like Navajo or Hopi to ME.

Now, with this diatribe behind us, you're going to ask how this reactionary, de-evolutionary douche bucket reviewer can give this movie 5 NayBobs?!

Answer: Because I am King Hippo and you are not! If I spent a dozen years writing each review – maybe I could make a masterpiece, too.

Maybe not!

Some of you Pudwhackers might say, "This movie collapses in the last 45 minutes under the weight of its overwrought CGI, mind-numbing visuals and protracted flying and battle scenes."

But that would be Old Dan Cedar - whose definition of protracted equates to the wasted time spent ensuring that his sexual partner for the day also has an orgasm.

As for King Hippo - Your asexual host: Politics aside, I loved this movie.

I'm just not going to allow you jerk offs to think that James Cameron is some kind of Renaissance Man. A Renaissance Hack maybe...A kindred spirit to one, King Hippo.

I am King Hippo of the World!!!

EAT, PRAY AND LOVE - Aka...Consume, Genuflect and Vomit

I am a hopeless romantic with a low self esteem and a nervous eating disorder.

Clearly, this movie was made for me.

I have a confession to make – I go to Weight Watchers. Regularly. Meetings are Monday nights. When there – we all share our disappointments and anger about the fact that we are all fat. Well, everyone but me. Giggle….

Nope. Not Fat.

Bulemic?

Well, not until I spent 2 hours and 15 minutes bathing in this narcissistic, new aged clap trap.

Never mind the fact that the book is always better than the movie. I squealed like a little girl when the trailer showed no other than JULIA ROBERTS as the main character! Glorious anticipation! Quickly, my throng of portly co-worker girlfriends coordinated schedules so that we could do the movie and a dinner, fully reveling in the experience of it all.

The anticipation lasted roughly as long as my first time to have intercourse and was just about as pleasurable.

Actually, my “first time” was really a good sport about me not knowing what the hell he was doing and just wanting him to finish so we could go back to talking again. Give me a break – I was thirteen and he was forty-three. I wanted to figure out how he knew that I liked banana splits with extra nuts.

As for E,P&L, it is supposed to be about a thin woman’s incredibly brave journey to self love through discovery, forgiveness and acceptance. Her catalyst – realizing that the Perfect Husband, Job, Career, etc. just does not make the big “O” happen for her, and really never did. Her instincts called her to travel to far and exotic destinations, but she instead forced herself into a cookie cutter lifestyle, steadily choking on the sugary artificialness of it all.

In fact, she had suffocated her inner voice for so long that it came as a total shock when that voice finally spoke to her one night while she was balled up on the bathroom floor, writhing in angst from not knowing how to keep living. The voice simply said, “Go to sleep, Liz.” It should have continued to say, “…and don’t cast Julia Roberts as the lead character for your movie.”

The movie takes our heroine to Italy where she gains weight (both physically and mentally). Then she heads to India where she wrestles with inner demons, an ex-husband’s transcendental curse, and naturally, loses the weight (both physically and mentally).

It IS India, for fuck’s sake.

Finally, the journey ends in Indonesia, where she finds balance between the spirit and the flesh, maintaining a healthy weight by diving head first into a passionate romance with the hot Brazilian older man. Serious “activity points” - as we Weight Watchers call it.

Alas, none of the essence of this woman’s journey ever makes it to the screen because all you see is Julia.

Julia smiling.
Julia eating.
Julia laughing.
Julia pouting.
Julia, Julia, Julia.

Now, this saturation of Julia has worked in previous roles – she made the entire planet fall in love with a prostitute who happened to be on the right corner at the right time in Pretty Woman. She also fully embraced the role of the tough older sister in Mystic Pizza, once again giving a rich boy his dues, this time with a convertible full of fish.
Finally, she nailed the part of Erin Brockovich, winning the Oscar (the statue, not the fish). So, naturally, it was safe to assume that she would, once again, embrace a character’s essence and beautifully portray her story.

Such anticipation. Such utter disappointment.

Yes. This reminds me of SEVERAL times of sexual intercourse. Well, not that many times. As far you know. Oh sure, a female with a large number indicates slootiness – that means sluttiness you urbane fucking fucks. Whilst a man with a large number is just a stud.

Fucking hypocrites!!
Er, literally.

Ironically, my gaggle of gargantuan girlfriends felt differently about the movie. They enjoyed it and agreed that maybe a lesser known actress would have fit better in the cast, but that Julia did a great job and they were generally entertained.

What a bunch of stupid, stout, tantric, manwich-eating bitches.

I am going to eat a bag of baked Doritos now to block out the E,P&L epic fail.

Reminds me of …..VOMIT!

Can’t wait to “share-out” on Monday night and the subsequent stout stares – “Sit down and shut up – you skinny fucking bitch.”

PIRHANHA 3D - Aka...Big Titties, Junior Mints and Warm Beer, er...I mean BLOOD!

Rodney Carrington’s ‘Momma’s Got Her Boob Out’ song was the first thing to pop into my mind after seeing this blockbuster. Because there was no shortage of either titties or blood for almost the entire eighty eight minutes – yes! 88 minutes! Too bad for the young couple sitting a few rows in front of us…. they had to cut their make out session short. (From my discreet camera work – there seemed to be a problem with coitus interruptus.)

Oh, the days when going to a movie with a member of the opposite gender ignited sexual fantasies from burning young libidos! My libido has long since burned out. Yes, all of my theatrics are for my one and only - filthy boy’s – porn fueled fantasy.

I was already half way through my jumbo box of Junior Mints by the time the opening scene started. And the guy I was seeing the movie with - knew not to ask for any, at the risk of our own little bloodbath ensuing from me cutting his fingers off at his first stab at taking any of my mints. I may not have a libido, but I still have passion. And, as Dan Cedar says, ‘Attitude accounts for a lot of pleasure’.

Speaking of pleasure, Piranha 3D is a guilty one. Bikinis, blood and bad visual effects are the main highlights in this movie that is so blatantly awful that I couldn’t help but love it!

The acting is terrible, the plot even worse and the gore is over the top. Much like an episode of Grey’s Anatomy after the first season when the writers went on strike. And as much as you want to stop watching, you stay until the credits roll. Unabashedly enjoying it and hating yourself at the same time.

The opening scene of Piranha has Richard Dreyfuss as an old man drinking beer and fishing on the lake. He tosses a bottle over the side and when it hits the bottom, it triggers a cataclysmic shift in the earth’s crust. This opens a prehistoric lake populated with, well, prehistoric piranhas. They immediately know that it’s Spring Break and make a beeline to the wet T-shirt contest where all the underage drinkers are reveling to music and dangling their unclad flesh in the water.

A shitload of Junior Mints for these little halitosis-addled piranhas, if you will, and maybe some dental floss and a Water Pick.

It’s not a spoiler to say that the frontal nudity and carnage ensues. There are a few sub-story lines interweaved into the visual bloodbath, but the gore takes center stage.

It is 3D, after all.

I was very glad to have polished off my mints before the movie started because there was a point where all that 3D bloodiness became like a bad all-girl AC/DC cover band – too much of a bad thing can be nauseatingly surreal.

Thankfully, there is reprieve from all the goriness with an artistic moment between two very hot babes kissing and swimming naked together under the water for a Wild, Wild Girls video being filmed on the lake for Spring Break. I could almost hear Dan Cedar cheering them on. Ahhh, fantasies….

Ironically, the piranhas don’t dare fucking interrupt THIS scene. God damned bi-sexual porn craving piranhas.

Not so ironically, the couple a few rows up were back to exchanging non-blood-borne bodily fluids at this point.

And my friend had a sexually glazed-look in his eyes, as well.

Me? I was wishing for another box of Junior Mints with a hint of Mulva.

Well, not much longer after this ethereal scene is finished, the piranhas descend upon the lesbian love fest and the moment is soon drenched in severed flesh and blood. We’re gonna need a mop-up on the Cleaver aisle. Don’t worry Ward – the blood will wash right out of that pearl necklace!

The other main characters barely escape and everyone breathes a deep sigh of relief...but too soon, as it turns out. Suffice it to say that there will be a Piranhas 3D sequel…

…at about the same time as that couple a few rows in front of us has their love child.

If it’s a boy, maybe they’ll name him Junior.

As for you, Jake Jarmel – I ain’t your momma and my boobies are staying right where they started. Thanks for the free ride – Sucka!!!!!!

Note to my editor – Dan Cedar: Yes, that sentence needed the exclamation points!!!!

2012 - AKA…Chicken Little Shits His Pants Again!!

I should have known better...

Anytime John "no personality" Cusack is in any film, it's sure to be a loser.

Ok, there's the rare exception but it's usually a one-off, artsy type of flick which a total of eight people in the world actually went to see.

This dysentery diaper is anything but.

And to add insult to injury, Woody "make way Gary Busey, I'm about to pass your demented ass!" Harrelson also co-stars - no less as a "Repent! The world is ending" conspiracy theorist with his own pirate radio station.

Geez, do I need to go on here?

Ok, I will.

They should have cast Cusack's ultra lib, ultra-ass, should-have-been-a-lesbian, ugly-sister Joan - as his ex-wife instead of Amanda Peet. That would have given Dan Cedar his first wood since his double strength Mexican Viagra prescription ran out.

Just imagine, John and Joan swapping spit on camera. Eeeew!!

On second thought, witnessing that scene would have made most heterosexual males become Tibetan monks...but still giving Dan Cedar wood.

A truly contrived plot - another "end of the world" story based on various real life predictions from the likes of The Maya to Nostradamus , et al.

Basically, some raghead Hindi scientist in a third world country finds that the earth's core is heating up to proportions bordering on the cataclysmic.

His contact in the US has the ear of the current prez who then decides secretly, with the governments of other nations, to build several "arks" which will re-populate the world after it blows itself to hell. Can anyone imagine Ronnie Reagan pulling this shit?

Here is my rant that will, most likely, catapult me past Rush Limbaugh

Of course, the general public is kept in the dark about these findings, unlike, say the complete fairy tale that that Fat Fuck "inventor of the internet" Al Gore and his butt-munching cadre of leftist "scientists" that have “Photo Shopped” every picture of melting ice caps in the entire world and have hoisted melted piles of shit on the lemming-like, Oprah-watching, generational-welfare collecting, crack-smoking, Marxist-loving, unwanted-baby-making, trash that populate most, if not all, of western civilization.

Yeah, I know. I WIN !!

In order to finance such a project, the rich and famous of the world are offered reserved seats on the various arks for the tidy sum of 1 Billion...Euros, NOT Dollars...per seat, not per family...

So, let me get this straight. We are now converting to Euros????

Oh, Yeah, That's right. The Jews have all of their money tied up in Fucking Switzerland!!

Of course, John Cusack is not one of the "Chosen", Hmmm, interesting terminology...seems like I've read that somewhere. Like maybe, I dunno... Oh, yeah, The Bible!!

So, anyway...Moses, or maybe it's Noah, I mean Cusack, spends three quarters of the movie scrambling to get his family, along with his ex's new squeeze cardiologist, away from the earthquakes and fissures in the earth's crust which are quickly forming and swallowing everything up in its path...mmmm...Linda Lovelace, mmmm...swallowing, mmmm... crusty.

Hey Cusack. Yeah, It's a call for you. Chuck Heston just telephoned from the crypt and wants his fucking movie back!!

This predictably lame-ass-ending finds John and family safely on one of the arks after they are smuggled aboard by one of the workers on the "ark project".

So let me get this other thing straight.

Cusack, an out of work, nobody author, much like King Hippo, who spends most of his days passed out on his couch in a drunken stupor - performs one heroic, perfectly-timed, miraculous feat after another - including, as a stow away, successfully fixing one of the arks, so its entire crew, cargo and survivors don't go down to a watery grave??

That's on the level of having Stephen Hawking saving you and your inbred white trash family from the end of the world - while remaining in his wheelchair and using nothing more than his chin and a circa 1985 Atari joystick.

WTF?!

I mean, "ground opening up and swallowing everything around you?"

NO PROBLEM! I have a car that FLIES!

How about, "need to travel three quarters of the planet to make your connection while traveling in a single engine Cessna?"

NO PROBLEM! I'll just trade up to an Antonov AN-225 at my local commuter airport!

Or, "had to crash land at the base of Mount Everest in minus 70 degree temperatures?"

NO PROBLEM! We're all wearing Under Armour! Plus, it's summer!

If this ever really happens to the world, I'm glad I believe in MY God. Because if I have to be cooped up with you bunch of elitists, leftists, politicians, entertainers, mobsters, and Jew hollywood producers, I'll take my chances in a rubber dinghy, a six pack of Corona, a bag of beef jerky and your 16 year old kid sister.

ME AND ORSON WELLES - AKA….Anyone Under 50 Should Stay The Fuck Away

Here’s a little quiz. Do you know ANYTHING about Orson Welles, Joseph Cotten, or John Houseman? Have you any idea how to pick out a fine wine for some dinner guests?

That’s what I thought.

Unless you are on the highly elevated intellectual plane of King Hippo or Yours Truly – I will guarantee that your WWE-UFC-PCP loving Blue Plate Special of Shit-For-Brains-Sandwich doesn’t know that the Asti-Spumante that your boss gave you as a Christmas present - has Noble Rot.

YOU think it just seems really sweet, right?

Go ahead and Google it, dumbass. I will wait here for you.

Welcome Back,Mongo!!

Not scared away yet? How is this?

I watched this movie in the fourth most populated city in America where it was showing on one screen in a town of 4 million – a week after it opened. And there were only 5 of my of my Menses' associates imbibing this delicate bouquet.

Go ahead and Google this one too, you dullard. I’ll be waiting.

So NOW you know what city Old Dan Cedar is in.

Congratu-fucking-lations!!

I will be looking for your pan-handling for cigarette-money-ass the next time I pull in the Onyx Topless Bar.

Look – you aren’t even old enough to know who Vinny Barbarino was in 1975, much less the slurringly drunk and bloated, former shell-of-himself, Orson Welles, circa that same time frame, hocking Paul Mason’s screw-top California vintage. So, don’t even act like you understand the greatness of Welles’ genius in the Mercury Theatre - some forty years prior. Excuse me if I have my doubts of your mental acuity.

If you are still reading, I will assume, for the moment, that you have your AARP card and can keep up. The rest of you can skip to the last paragraph of this review.

The Cadavers that are still with me…This is a movie that will put you back in your distantly euphoric childhood - 1937. The Great DepressionAmelia Earhart’s disappearanceFDR stacking the Supreme Court …Good Times!!

Hey - Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme – I ain't done with you - so keep up!!

This movie follows a young actor, played by Zac Efron, and the tyrannical, brilliant, 22 year-old Orson Welles, played by Christian McKay, through the re-imagined production and opening night of Mercury Theatre’s adaptation of Shakespeare’s, Julius Caesar.

This brings me to the most off-putting portion of the movie.

Dig this, Methuselah, it’s gonna be a little tough. You may need fiber optics to fire off neurons to snap you out of what generally serves as your pre-Alzheimer’s existence. Zac Efron is glass of milk – like, say, maybe your great-grandson’s age. He is and adequate actor – actually better than I expected, but has more oomph than any doll in the movie – to the point of distraction. Also, his eyebrows are like two giant black caterpillars perching dangerously close to his peepers. He appears perilously close to transforming into Brooke Shields at any given moment. Remember her? She married Andre Agassi back twenty years ago – right after your third wife disappeared with her personal riding instructor – to Brazil – never to be heard from again.

We see Welles at his most precocious, world-at-his-feet stage –a definite out-and-outer. Gaining the tools that would bring him to world-renowned brilliance with War of The Worlds and Citizen Kane.

Mamaw and Papaw – Think of this movie as Beaulieu Vineyard Reserve Clone 337 Cabernet Sauvignon Rutherford 04 – This dark ruby-violet reveals a bouquet of currants, herbs and black raspberry with pepper. There is a lovely hint of smoky oak with coffee overtones and a hint of Bordeaux-like cassis-cedar nuance. For a wine from such young vines, this is very stylish. Much like you were some 70 years ago.

Now - being that your moth-eaten human flesh is expeditiously rotting – I will dispense with the colloquialisms from the 1930s and the thick-headed wine references.

Go see this movie quickly - if for no other reason than to watch the intensely brilliant (yes, I actually used that line and I mean it) performance by Christian McKay as Welles. It is almost surrealistic to watch.

He is destined to sit down beside James Lipton on Inside The Actors Studio to divulge his favorite curse word and other-such banalities. This will shortly give you something to babble incessantly about to the stranger drooling in the bed next to you - in your, semi-private, government-procured, nursing home room.

Welcome Back Gen Xers

Did you enjoy that episode of Two And A Half Men last night? Wasn’t Ginger Lynn’s ex-boyfriend so fucking witty and clever and shit with his overly-tanned legs and bowling shirt? He is a lot more endearing when you don’t have to watch him beat his wife and choke down his daily cocktail of protease inhibitors and his 2000 mg of Valtrex. A man-whore that, no-doubt, the young Orson Welles would have been proud with whom to associate. As - I am sure - would you.

Like I said, half-wit…Stay home! This movie ain’t for you!!

Now, grab you a Red Bull, start bragging about the new Ink, on your bicep and pop in that well-worn DVD of Jackass VI .

Sit back, let your mind go numb - and enjoy!

CHOLE - Aka…Screw my Wife, Please! (The Cable Version)

In my never-ending attempt to prove to myself that I am smarter than the average American movie-goer – I continue to scour the art-house, off-beat movies – looking for that diamond in the rough. Occasionally, I find such a gem.

I am much more likely to find a half-twittering cubic zirconium.

Today, I re-discover that the literate, cultivated, indie connoisseurs are just efforting to make themselves feel more cultured than the inane masses that generally flock to the corner Gigaplex for this week’s Jennifer Aniston or Ben Affleck “wacky” romantic comedy.

Getting to the crux of your humble reviewer’s problem…Art House Movies are generally no tastier than the banal manna on which the masses feed. For every one (500) Days of Summer or Slumdog Millionaire – I get eight sickle cell anemic, soft-core porn thrillers. This day – I get Chloe– lucky me. Lucky you!!

Romance, deception, hot-chicks…How could this thing be bad? Well, let me save you 8 bucks and the telegraphed plot-twist, so ill-contrived that you will undoubtedly keep telling yourself, “Well, Self, This seems to be going in a certain direction, but that would seem a bit obvious…hmmm….hopefully, I am going to get some kind of Sixth Sense out-of-the-blue smack upside the head. Hmmm…..would they really do something this fucking obvious?”

Fuck Yes!

I am telling you – If you can’t see this 45 mile an hour “curveball” coming within 20 minutes of the opening credits – even the state of Texas wouldn’t try to give you a lethal injection. Because…obviously you have the IQ of a 13 week old fetus that only has 3 neurons firing.

Of course, YOU probably think that your global warming, left-winged whore of a mother should have vacuumed every limb of your god-forsaken body out of her sugar walls because you were just an inconvenient truth. That sucking sound you hear is not the Gyno-Industrial Strength Hoover.

It is this 3rd trimester, abortive-excuse of a soft-core porn movie.

This brings me to Chloe’s three main characters.
The GGILF (Gynecologist Ginger ) Portrayed by Julianne Moore (Dr. Frigid ).

The YDEPILF (Young, Doe-Eyed Prostitute ) Played by the young, yet amply-titified Amanda Seyfried – (Chloe ).

And The MAPTAGWTF (Middle Aged Professor That All Girls Want To Fuck) played by Liam Neeson (Professor Duh ).

Why, ‘Professor Duh’? I’ll explain in a moment.

Neeson, the innocent, yet paradoxically flirtatiously handsome husband – is suspected by his wife of fucking every thing with whom he flirts.

Anyway, his wife, Julianne Moore, hires the aforementioned prostitute to check his penile constitution.

Is ‘Professor Duh’ still happy with that same overly-freckled piece of ass he married 20 some-odd years ago? What do you think, Ginger?

‘Dr. Frigid’ has an epiphany half-way through the movie. She is informed by the 19 year-old, (wise beyond her years) prostitute,Chloe, that men, yes, ALL MEN, prefer women to wear their hair down – Not in a Fucking Bun!!

So, she has lived 40 some-odd years and received a doctorate in gynecology, but hasn’t figured this little tid-bit out! Brilliant!! She probably also silently wonders why the tomato never caught on as a hand fruit.

Flirting, Petting and Orgasms ensue!

But as the greatest band of the past 30 years so eloquently asked,“Who made Who?”

‘Professor Duh’– it so happens - DOES NOT get turned-on when he finds out his wife and the prostitute are amorously grinding clits! WTF???

If he DID get turned on – that is when we go from watching an art-house “thriller” – to what this reviewer likes to call “Foreplay”.

In EVERY MOVIE – and I mean EVERY MOVIE that I have seen on MY DVD in MY BEDROOM for the past 20 years – this contrivance is perceived as an opportunity to stay faithful to one’s wife, but STILL get some hot, new gash.

But NO! That would be BAD! That would be PORN.

Funny how we can easily accept any kind of sadistic violence a movie character splays forth – but if the guy just wants to fulfill EVERY guy’s fantasy (excluding the pedos and the homos)…all of the sudden we slap an NC-17 rating on it and have to stomach Ron Jeremy’s hairy, hedgehog ass and smarmy comments while awaiting his final countdown to blast-off.

Thank the deity of your choice for DVD Porn. Where, my personally favorite, genial, 60’s-something host,Dave Cummings, slyly introduces a ‘happily-married couple’ to a porn-star that they both want to share all-things carnal.
And nobody has to phony-up any artificial outrage.

And that, my friend, is why Dave Cummings is part of ‘The Greatest Generation’.

Finally, about Chloe, you might be asking. “Old Dan, how can you possibly give this modern-day film noir failure – two Naybobs?”

Well, Sir Isaac Newton, it seems that Yours Truly – overindulged on Mexican Viagra just prior to this screening. My newly nuptialed counterpart, Bibs Detroit-Cedar, utterly bored with this motion picture, decided to reinterpret her favorite Spielberg classic, Jaws, in the back row of The Angelika.

Face Down, Ass Up!!

Two Ass Cheeks – Way Up!!

Old Dan Cedar

Old Dan Cedar’s Top 11 Movies of the Decade (2000-2009)


I know you saw Spinal Tap if you’re a reader of this website.
So, in that spirit – I give you my Top 11 Movies of the past decade.

I can only pray that some of my insightful geniusness rubs off on your taste-forsaken ass!! I have thrown in a movie quote for those of you too dulled into oblivion on Xanax to remember most of the details.

Snap out of it – you Dungheep of Duhhhh!!

1. Memento- The story of Leonard who can’t make new memories and seeks revenge in the death of his wife. Brilliant movie with a great ending – even if it IS at the beginning. A perfect melding of the distortion of the time/space continuum, murder mystery and psychological thriller.

“What's the last thing that you DO remember?”
“My wife...”
“That's sweet.”
“...dying.”

2. Lantana- The story of 3 couples. Love, Deception and Trust wrapped around the death of a daughter, the grief that follows and the disappearance of a quasi-celebrity psychologist.

“He didn’t do it, Jane.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me.”

3. (500) Days of Summer – The story of Tom and Summer and their 500 days together. Presented in a non-chronological manner - this movie touches the highs and lows of a single relationship that is relatable to anyone that has been in love and out - for the first time.

“Just because she likes the same bizzaro crap you do doesn't mean she's your soul mate.”

4. The Wrestler – The story of a former wrestler, Randy “The Ram”, years after his heyday. Randy is repentant for his past personal failures, while still trying to hang on to the intoxicating fame of his past. They say an athlete dies two deaths. The end of his athletic omnipotence and his actual demise.

“You're my little girl. And now, I'm an old broken down piece of meat... and I'm alone. And I deserve to be all alone. I just don't want you to hate me.”

5. Clerks II – The story of two guys that used to run a convenience store and now work at Mooby’s burger joint and are still trying to get their shit together. The most politically incorrect movie ever. But it has a sweet heart and a great tribute to the music videos of the 80’s.

“Have you become so embittered that you now feel the need to attack the handicapped?”
“What handicap” The guy’s just in a wheelchair. It’s not like he’s Anne Frank or something….”
“Anne Frank?”
“Yeah, Anne Frank. The chick that was all duhhh, till the miracle worker showed up and knocked some smarts into her.”
“You're talking about Helen Keller.”
“No I'm not, I'm talking about Anne Frank. She was deaf, dumb and blind.”
“No she wasn't. Helen Keller was deaf, dumb and blind.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yup…”
“Then who the fuck is Anne Frank?”

6. Lord of the Rings (2 Towers) – The story continues following the hobbits with the ring and several fake endings. But it’s easier than reading the book.

“He wants the precious. Always he is looking for it. And the precious is wanting to go back to him... But we mustn't let him have it.”

7. Y Tu Mama Tambien – The story of a Mexican Ménage Road Trip with an underlying impetus. The only way it could have been better is if there were two teenaged girls, a middle aged guy and I didn’t have to read the movie. You say tomato….

“Who cares who you two fucked when you come that fast!”

8. Best In Show – The story written by Christopher Guest and brought to life by his brilliant cast gives an inside look at a dog show which lovingly makes fun of all of its characters while making me a fan of what I thought to be a boring charade.

“We started this magazine, 'American Bitch'. It's a focus on the issues of the lesbian pure bred dog owner.”

9. Superbad – The story follows 3 high school (completely fucked-up) geeks through one night of trying to get girls drunk and themselves laid in one of the most hilarious surreal, outlandish comedies – ever!!
Not many lessons. Just good, unclean fun.

“Here it goes. When I was a little kid, I kinda had this problem, and it's not even that big of a deal. Something like 8% of kids do it, but whatever. It's... for some reason, I would just kinda sit around all day... and draw pictures of dicks."

10. The Lives of Others – The story set in the German Democratic Republic (GDR) beginning in the mid 1980s leading up to the Glasnost period. As a front-line member of the Stasi (Secret Police), Gerd Wiesler, is assigned to conduct surveillance, interrogate, and pass judgment on potential enemies of the state and his ultimate disillusionment with the system he is sworn to defend.

“Writers are the engineers of the soul.”

11. Harvard Beats Yale 29-29 – The story is a documentary of the 1968 Harvard vs. Yale football game. The side-stories told by the players 40 years after the game are incredibly interesting. One player roomed with George W. Bush at Yale. Another, Tommy Lee Jones, roomed with Al Gore at Harvard. Another player dated the greatest actress of her generation. And the Yale football team was part of the genesis of Garry Trudeau’s Doonesbury cartoon strip. Oh, and by the way…a great football game.

“Hang on to your hats boys and girls. Let’s just watch!”

So, hang on to your pencil dicks and clits - that is my list boys and girls. Let's just watch - you misinterpret and overanalyze my choices. As always, if you think that your Anne Frank ass can do better and don't want anything of substance for your worthless meanderings. Shoot Old Dan Cedar an email through the website. I will give you a shot at showing yourself to be a torrential retard. I consider myself a miracle worker and will straighten your deaf and dumb ass up!

UP IN THE AIR - Aka…Up In My Rectum

So, you are ready to take the family out to see a holiday movie to celebrate family, tradition, and the greater sense of community that is felt by mankind in this most holy of times?

Or maybe you just want 114 minutes of peaceful bliss until – you-know-who interrupts your quiet solitude and begins, once again, barking orders from her honey-do spreadsheet that your life has been built around since a week before Thanksgiving.

How many times can I say, “I am working on the website.
I promise I will get to it tomorrow.”?

You know it’s bad when you finally break down and say, “Yes, honey. We can go watch George Clooney glibly smile, furrow his brow, and say anything charmingly smarmy.”

Just let me exist in my peaceful bliss while I watch a fun, holiday JOYFEST!!

Well, maybe my expectations are a bit lofty.
It can’t be that bad...

Lots of Oscar talk.
4 stars here.
4 stars there.
Thumbs-up everywhere.

It’s from the guy that made Juno and Thank You For Smoking.It doesn’t have Reece Witherspoon, Hugh Grant, Sarah Jessica Parker, Drew Barrymore or Sandra Bullock…hmmmm….this looks ok.

Well here’s a SURPRISE for you EINSTEIN...
Sometimes E doesn’t equal MC Squared!!

The Relationship Basics
Boy Meets Girl.
Boy Chases.
Girl Recoils.
Boy Recoils.
Girl Gets Boy.
They Fuck.
And Fuck.
And Fuck.
Girl Recoils, again.
Boy Chases Girl.
Awkward Moment.
Boy and Girl resign to their separate fate.

It’s A Wonderful Life – this is not!

This George shows up with $50K of new veneers.
Where did the Baked Bean teeth go?
So, instead of that smarmy, toothless grin – He can actually smile.
Thank God.
Looks Good, Georgie Boy.

Anyway, the devil is in the details. I have to focus!

Vera Farmiga and George Clooney are the girl and the boy. It’s cute for a while. I keep noticing the veneers. How much money??? Then it bugged me that Clooney was always in a suit and tie. And then I became what I hate when watching a movie. Self Aware.

I am a guy in a movie theater watching a story about a couple that has incredibly witty banter.

Then I start thinking about WHEN George got his teeth fixed. How much did they REALLY cost? Should I get MY teeth fixed? Could my boss hook me up with somebody that could get me a discount on getting my teeth fixed?

Needless to say - I wasn’t absorbed in this movie.

As with all things Clooney – there is a political undertone - and it can only be great when he doesn’t try to hide it – e.g. Good Night and Good Luck.

Oh, and here is another little nugget - This movie is terminally aware of its place in history and is made as a celluloid time capsule of how history will remember the first decade of this millenium.

The Work Basics
Clooney works for a company that is hired to fire people and travels the land doing so. It’s heartbreaking at times, but it also feels forced at other times. Clooney is acting like he really hates firing people. And acting like he really doesn’t know himself and what he has become.

More self-awareness.

I start thinking – “What is the message that the movie makers are trying to get across to me? If I get my teeth fixed – could I be as charming as Clooney?

And then – I become Glenn Beck watching a movie.
Insane and Paranoid about the message of what I am watching.
I start drawing on an imaginary chalkboard and talking into a camera that doesn’t exist.

A great movie just happens to the audience…
Every time a bell rings another angel gets its wings.

Yeah, that’s right, Zu Zu!

Now – if Clooney can just refer that smarmy, raging, anti-dentite Johnny Depp to the same Tooth Fairy – I can have something to think about during Pirates of the Caribbean IV !

THE BOOK OF ELI - Aka...Mad Max Rides Again

Aaaah, I was going through withdrawals for the latest installment of one of my favorite movie franchises featuring the Mad Max character made famous by one Mel Gibson. Isn’t the fourth installment usually the best?

Unfortunately, Mad Max IV, which has been in production for the last two DECADES, is still not finished. That must be some kind of record, sort of like it's anyone's guess when the next Boston album will be coming out. Many thanks to Brad Delp for trying his little bathroom experiment which solidified the theory that two gas grills, working in unison, can nudge a Boston Anthology album to fruition.

It's been 1985 since Mad Max, Beyond Thunderdome. Somehow, I don't see that alcoholic, anti-semite, homophobic, child molester Gibson, seamlessly fitting into his leather jeans to resume his most memorable character. Yes, that includes his Braveheart and Lethal Weapon characters, you hoity toity dipshits.

In what seems to be a theme of political AND artistic worlds as of late - Denzel Washington giddys-up into town to rescue the white man. Now, if only I can get a free lunch with my free healthcare…

In a very overused, clichéd-to-death, contrived plot, Denzel emerges in a post apocalyptic earth as Eli, a weary but determined traveler making his way from the east coast of the United States to the west coast for the last 30 years, "on a mission from God."

Two points if you can guess where that last quote came from.
And, no, it wasn't from the Passion of the Christ - you moron!

We're DONE talking about Mel Gibson AND Boston, you shit-for-brains.

And there is no Rowdy Gaines’ theme from Rawhide being played to pacify Bob’s Country Bunker patrons while peppering “the band” with beer bottles.

Eli just happens to possess the last copy of the Bible known to man. Yeah, Gutenberg began printing off these mass-produced fairy tales in 1436.

And as luck would have it – the most over-hyped actor of the past 30 years gets the last copy.

Of course, whenever you have the "only" of anything, YOU become a very popular person. As Sidney Poitier was, before you know who knocked him off his roost. But, I digress…

During one of his ass kicking stops along the way, Eli becomes acquainted with "Carnegie," adroitly played by Gary Oldmanb who gets my vote for Best Supporting Actor for next year's Academy Awards.

I can hear you loser naybobs of negativity with your incredulous "are you kidding me?!?!?," or, "it's only February. How do you know some other movie won't have a BETTER supporting actor?"
Or the classic, "Oldman?!?!
Who the fuck is 'Oldman'?"

Ever heard of Anthony Hopkins as Hannibal Lecter? Heath Ledger as The Joker in The Dark Knight?

THOSE are real 'badguy' characters with mind-boggling acting. And if they had to have a little blow to get them to that “next-level”…well, who am I to judge?

My point exactly, you fudge packing nitwits. It takes a much better actor to play a convincing, subdued 'badguy' than an 'over-the-top' psycho. Now shut up and go pack Dan Cedar's rectum.

The rest of the movie devolves into Carnegie doing his best to bribe, con, and finally kill Eli, in order to get the Bible for himself. Is this ironic to anyone else?

Pick your favorite Mad Max baddie and shit-rigged weapon of choice - it's in this “up-over”, African version, also.

The twist ending finds Carnegie getting not quite what he bargained for when he finally extracts the Bible from Eli's hands.

That Russian hottie Mila Kunis. Mmmm…Kunis. Her over-acting was the only weak link of the movie. Why should I care? All I did was stare at her ass the whole time she was on the screen. You won’t read that from the limpies that write reviews for The New York Times.

Kudos to Tom Waits, who, for some reason, always plays a grease monkey or some eccentric gadget savant, while managing to remove the pile of gravel from his mouth. He plays them better than anyone else, though.

And today's "HOLY FUCKIN' SHIT" award goes to Jennifer Beals, who, at 40-something STILL elicits a woody. Mmmm...Woody Harrelson.

Which reminds me – I am close to jizzing myself with the thought of Toy Story 4 coming…But again, I digress…

King Hippo

WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE - Aka…Where The Shit Stains Are

John Cougar joins in with the theme-song for this Leave it to Beaver of the Obama Millennium.

Here is a little warning regarding this review. It is mostly a rant, but you’re probably used to that - if you have an IQ above that achieved by the mental mongoloid that killed six Taco Bell co-workers 14 years ago and is praying for this president to make two more Supreme Court nominees prior to his case reaching said court – or you have previously read ANYTHING posted on this website.

Instruction Manual – Take an out of control 10 year-old (Max) with an over-active imagination. Add an over-coddling mother. What have you got?

Hang on a second, Asshole!!

What the egg-head reviewers are saying you have got.
“Oh, this is a brave, interpolation of a classic children’s book that takes some bold risks and doesn’t follow a traditional kid’s story line.”

What have you really got?

A recipe for trouble and an excellent example of how Hollywood teaches us to raise our kids here in America – Home of the Free…Land of the Brave…Little Pink Houses…Big Brown Shit Stains.

Here is my interpolation for you, Asshole!!

What this story needs is about 95 minutes less of a proselytizing movie!!

What Max needs?

His ass beat the way my Pappy used to beat mine.
With a belt and without mercy!!

Listen – you fucking feminist, bra burning, free-thinking, pot smokers thrust force on our “naïve”, God-fearing, Greatest Generation nation that was transformed by the likes of none other than John F. Kennedy, Bob Dylan, Abbie Hoffman and Charlie Manson. You can raise YOUR kid anyway that you want.

Let them have the run of the roost.

Give them tennis lessons.

Let them grow their hair as long as they want.

You want to color it blonde? Whatever you wish – my little king.

Your little boy wants an earring? Well, just take him on down to the local “Ink Joint” and maybe we can get him a tramp stamp at the same time. Hug him every time he runs off the court. Tell him he can be as wild as he wants and he is still a champion. Maybe little Johnny McEnroe will grow out of this and become an international, middle-aged sensation as a commentator. Maybe he will marry, quite possibly, the hottest female 80’s rocker.

But don’t come crying to me when little Andre Agassi marries a quasi-lesbian, Nazi Sympathizer and tests positive for Crystal Meth after he has been trying to sell me a “Rebel” camera for the past 10 years and NOW you’re offended that he is trying to sell me a faux-repentant anti-Rebel book.

Hey, Barbara Billingsley !! Nice Job!!

Maybe next time Hugh Beaumont decides to step out and spill his man-oats within the void of the local divorcee – you won’t be so quick to move Tony Dow and Jerry Mathers away from their “bad influence” – that 14 years-earlier you felt the need to snatch him with your virgin love-duct into a hapless existence of letting him believe HE was king of the county by supplying every meal that you ever roasted while wearing those charming white dresses and pearl necklaces – then turning around to question every parenting instinct poor Ward ever expressed while crossing your arms and rolling your eyes.

Maybe HE DOESN’T respect you!

Nor does Max - respect his teet-toting, provision-providing madre – and storms out after telling her, “Feed Me, Woman!!”

Isn’t that the way the 60s started? Seemed like a good idea at the time.

Pretty soon Tony and Jerry will be in the apartment dissecting Dark Side of The Moon and torching what your generation refers to as "a doob" - while Mrs. Cleaver is out at her second job waiting tables to pay the electric bill and using her breaks to blow the Denny’s manager (Eddie Haskel) in his office so she doesn’t have to kite more checks at the local Wal-Mart.

“You look lovely in that white-stained Denny’s dress, Mrs. Cleaver.”

But I digress. Back to this fecal-festering movie that movie studios have – no doubt – greased reviewer’s palms to give “two-thumbs way-up”.

So – since they have to take up 100 minutes where once were 10 sentences - We go through this drawn-out ordeal where Max has to befriend all of these dysfunctional and psychologically fucked-up Monsters.
And they are ALL Fucked Up!!
Damn you to Hell, Spike Jonze !!

If Max had landed in Hitler’s bunker in April of 1945 – he wouldn’t have found any more bomb-scarred, skittish, monstrous, Fucking Fucks.

Oh, but THESE monsters are FUN. They like to sleep in big piles, knock down trees and pull off their friend’s arm when they don’t like his attitude.

Nice touch – Mrs. Goebbels !!

Anyway - After A LONG TIME – Poor Max gets home sick.
His mom serves up the evening slop to his gnarly, little gut.

Ain’t that America !!

Next time – I’ll just take the cyanide, a bullet to the head with my 7.65mm pistol - and, oh yeah, Hans – remember to pour 50 gallons of petrol on my corpse before affixing the marshmallows to the coat hangers.

Give me an 11 page book and More S’mores, Please !!

And one less Hollywood lesson on how to raise my kids.

DISTRICT 9 - Aka…SEE, Apartheid DOES work!

As I waltzed into the theater to see this flick, I had about the same expectations of this being a good sci-fi movie as when I walked into the theater to see the recent Star Trek regurgitation. Therefore, I came armed with a box of No-Doz, a thermos of nuclear strength espresso hidden in my pants leg, and a loaded crack pipe hoping I would only need two out of the three to keep me awake during this "foreign film".

I figured I'd take in a matinee during the summer before school started and check out the local female high school/college talent that would inevitably be trying to cram in some last minute extracurricular activity before the drudge of the fall semester began.

Plus, I felt some well placed questions might lead me to their campus and possibly a time and place that they might need a ‘friend’ to buy them some Boone’s Farm to chase with their Red Bull.

What I got was Otto from The Simpson’s selling me a ticket; Denver Pyle from The Dukes of Hazzard tearing my ticket and after a puzzled look on his face and incoherent mumbling for 5 minutes, finally pointing me to the appropriate movie screen; then, Lester Beetlejuice Green's microcephalic twin, first spilling my Coke all over the counter, then asking me 8 times what size popcorn I wanted.

"I DON'T WANT ANY POPCORN YOU MORON - ERGO I DON’T WANT TO PAY ‘JUST 50 MORE CENTS’ FOR A LARGE WITH FREE REFILLS!"

But I digress...

Anyway; I found out that I should have brought my barf bag and phenergan suppositories as the cinematography was another Blair Witch Project and Cloverfield nausea fest. This was because it was another half documentary/half scripted movie hybrid that seems to be "all the rage" nowadays.

There were only 7 patrons in the theatre. I didn’t get her name, but the uncomfortable-looking 17 year-old that I plopped down next to – didn’t seem interested in helping me insert said suppositories – being that she moved to another seat within 12 seconds of my, possibly, overly-insistent and swift introduction.

Goody for me! I can concentrate on the movie and surprise, it works.

District 9 is a story about an alien spacecraft which came to a dead stop hovering above Johannesburg, South Africa a couple of decades post Nelson Mandela.

After attempts to communicate with the ship went unanswered, the hull was eventually breached from the outside only to find a large group of alien bipedal grasshoppers who were severely malnourished and living in their own excrement (opposite of, say, Old Dan Cedar, who is morbidly obese from eating his own excrement).

The aliens were "rescued" by well-meaning humans and reservationed on a large barren tract of land with makeshift tin huts, no running water, razor wire fencing, squalid living conditions, and for good measure, some local human thugs who decide that they like living among the aliens. This is the slum called "District 9."

It actually sounds like Mexico City, but I would like to get Old Dan Cedar on a train down there and get his fatly-stenched ass in the next Zyklon B shower that opens up.

Guess what? The whites AND the blacks hate the aliens.

Finally, a post-racial society…Who’d thought MLK’s dream was about fucking aliens? I guess that I slept through that fucking part of the speech. Shit, if I would have known this –I could have spent the past 41 years figuring out how James Earl Ray was framed by the fucking aliens.

The reason this movie works is that once the general scenario is presented - the movie narrows it's focus on Wikus van de Merwe (don't fucking ask me how to pronounce this!), a cubicle dwelling Dilbert, who, under the auspices of Multinational United (MNU), a private military contractor, is given the opportunity to head the eviction and relocation of the aliens from District 9 to District 10.

The problem? MNU has to get over a million aliens to sign a release so that they agree to the evictions and subsequent move. I understand Rick Perry is trying to push this through the Texas legislature without much luck.

As the evictions plod slowly along, much like this review - Wikus examines a strange metal tubular object he finds hidden in one of the tin huts, he is sprayed in the nose and face by an oily substance. After the initial retching, coughing and vomiting, Wikus decides to call it a day and head for home.

During a surprise party at his house that evening for his promotion to his new position, Wikus takes a header into the Congratulations cake...and his Kafka-esque transformation starts. He wakes up in the hospital horrified to find that his left hand and forearm have morphed into an alien appendage.

This change in his DNA allows Wikus to operate any of the confiscated alien weapons or operate the alien spacecraft. After Wikus is forced to successfully discharge various alien hand weapons, his usefulness is boiled down to vivisecting his body and studying his newly found hybrid DNA.

Of course, Wikus wants no part of this nightmare and escapes. His only refuge is District 9.

Wikus ends up at the home of Christopher Johnson, the given name of one of the aliens who just happens to be one of the "genius" aliens who needed the canister of fluid that Wikus had confiscated in order to fire up the mothership and leave Earth – this fluid could also reverse the continuing metamorphosis of Wikus from human to alien.

Well, it just so happens that the leader of the Nigerian gang, Obesanjo (don't ax me how to fuckin' pernounce dat) decides that he wants to cut off Wikus' alien arm and EAT it. He believes this will give him the power to use the alien weapons himself. Hmmm, and the HIV virus is NOT sexually transmitted.

After Wikus' Inspector Clouseau-like bumbling aquisition of some alien weaponry, he and Christopher go to MNU headquarters to retrieve the cannister of "secret sauce."

After a chase and gunbattle grounds the MNU paddy wagon, Wikus is dragged to Obesanjo's hut where - Obesanjo is not singing Zipadee-do-dah. He is there to have his left arm unceremoniously cleaved and used as an alien aphrodesiac.

Wikus manages to escape and get in the power suit the aliens had previously traded to the Nigerians for 3 cases of cat food. Wikus then proceeds to zap, cap, and crap Nigerian nap as he helps Christopher get to the disabled transport and then to the spaceship where he takes off to the wild blue yonder.

Obviously, the movie is a condemnation on the xenophobia and segregation which took place in South African cities under apartheid, with the aliens taking the place of black South Africans. So yes, it's a thinly disguised "message movie."
The aliens were incredibly realistic. The acting and pacing were tremendous.

Of course, you'll never see a movie preaching about black on black genocide and intraethnic discrimination among African countries or tribes.

Fuck, who am I kidding? You won’t even see a black guy kill a white guy on Law and Order.

Posting to The Fez Prez - The post-racial society starts the minute the Alien’s land, but thanks for canning your racist Green Czar – just the same.

Enjoy your next 3 ½ years and pray for the hapless alien landing.

INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS - Aka…Tarantino Does The Dirty ¾ Dozen (Jews)

Synopsis: Absurdist Jewish fantasy where Jews get to scalp Nazi bastards.

Inglourious Basterds takes the idea that the Nazis considered Jews to be subhuman, so Jews should treat the Nazis the same. Although I have never looked at Tarantino as a great commentator on society, I do think that Pulp Fiction is one of the 10 greatest American movies.

This movie owes much of its origins to The Dirty Dozen – some 42 years later.

Of course, Generation Sushi will be completely ignorant of this fact, because they haven’t committed anything to memory prior to their being gushed forth by their spasming mommy’s squishy tunnel of love. But, I digress…

The dialogue is typical, rapid-fire and, at times – downright hilarious.

Unlike The Dirty Dozen - none of the Basterds secondary characters are well developed or memorable. Pitt takes 8 Jewish-American soldiers behind enemy lines with the intent to scalp 100 Nazis each.

Brad Pitt has never been better. Of course, in my view, that isn’t saying much. Playing Lieutenant Aldo Raine, Pitt’s character never changes his smart-ass, kick-ass tone or demeanor. But he is at least hitting his one note on key.
And he does have one truly great lines, “But I digress…”

Obviously stolen from this Inglourious Website.

Pitt’s antagonist -German Colonel Hans Landa (Christopher Waltz) is the real star of the film and has emotional virtuosity in his performance. Switching from intensely terrifying to drolly funny. We will probably see him nominated for an Oscar come springtime.

In the process of setting up the movie’s climax - the movie loses its way with the copious movie insider references, Nazi propaganda and history lessons in film making. Joseph Goebbels is compared to David O. Selznick and other references are made to Hitler’s personal movie propagandist Leni Riefenstahl and her films.

The apex of the movie has the Basterds killing a bunch of Nazis and Tarantino works his inter-racial Nazi-hating couple into a Burning Down The Movie House moment.

In parts - this movie acts as a movie within a movie.
We watch the Nazis watch a movie in this movie.

I personally watched this movie in a movie theatre where people where literally applauding and laughing when Nazis would get killed. And in the film, Inglourious Basterds - Nazis are watching a film about the Nazis killing Allies and are laughing and applauding.

If we once had a moral high ground while fighting a war – It has now been completely lost.

Doesn’t it seem a little odd that all the liberal, peace-loving Hollywood elite that preached that George W. Bush was a war-mongering, jingoistic, ugly-American that didn’t give two shits about how the rest of the world viewed us – produces this kind of a movie?

Yeah, I know it’s an absurd comedy.
I get it!!
It does seem a bit hypocritical though.

It has been 64 years since the end of World War II. This is mostly down-trodden earth and has all been said before.
Although, possibly not quite as absurdly or funnily.
But, we all get it!
The Nazis were bad guys!!
But let’s do some math. The youngest soldiers in WWII were about 18 years old – so, they are about 82 years old. They will all be dead in the coming years.
Can we really continue creating interesting, new material for the next 20 years?

But the hate will continue primarily because of two reasons:
1) The Nazis are easy targets and bring in big bucks for Hollywood as a symbol for all evil.
2) There are a lot of Jews controlling the American movie industry (which I applaud Inglourious Basterds for acknowledging) and the easiest way to gain sympathy for one’s own group is to show how ya’ll have been treated like shit.

It’s a long way from John Wayne fighting in 1949’s Sands of Iwo Jima.
But the good guys win. Well, kind of good, anyway!!

Surprise!!

I realize this is a pipe dream, but can we try to find some NEW bad guys?

King Hippo’s Best and Worst of 2009

Worst Movies of 2009

1.Surrogates -The movie sucked so much, that it sucked my usually witty review right off the desk of Dan Cedar straight into the crapper.

2.2012 - This is what you get when you have a tired, worn out plot; tired, has been actors; and tired, rehashed special effects.

3.Couples Retreat - The only way to save this movie would have been to turn it into a porno.

4.Old Dogs - Hey Travolta! You already rode this retarded flea bag to market in 2007. It was called Wild Hogs.

5.Year One - I didn't think Jack Black could sink any lower than that festering turd Nacho Libre...but I stand corrected.

Best Movies of 2009

1.Avatar - As much as I hate that liberal prick megalomaniac James Cameron, I couldn't help but wet myself as I watched this flick.

2.The Hangover - THIS is what a comedy should be - non stop laughs without the rehashed clichés.

3.Star Trek - As much as I hate to admit it, this movie had some of the best acting and editing of any movie I saw all year.

4. District 9 - Let's face it - if we got to see more broadly released foreign films in this country, there probably wouldn't be a single American flick on the end of the year "top 10."

5.Crazy Heart - Some films are great just because of the performance of the actors - this is Jeff Bridges' best of his career.

A PERFECT GETAWAY - Aka...Newlywed Game 2009

...For those of you who don't want to know "who did it" until you actually watch the movie, have no fear, King Hippo is here.
This review is going nowhere – just like the movie.

Excuse my rant, but ironically – less than 48 hours after watching this movie some Fucking Fucks had a perfect getaway after busting into King Hippo’s Den of Iniquity. They stole 6 guitars, a bag of blond Lebanese Hash, a Playstation 3, my 47 inch plasma (shaft) and enough Grey Goose and Young Buns porn to re-erect the newly post-mortemed penis of Mary Jo Kopechne’s recently departed killer – Oh, and yes, the Democratic Party’s - Lion of The Senate.

Thankfully, my 3,214 comic books collected over the last 45 years were – implausibly – untouched.

Luckily, Mssrs. Smith, Wesson and I weren’t there or you would be reading about my bushwhacking of the local Obama Backers that gang-raped my man-plantation!!

A Perfect Getaway is a typical suspense-thriller with better than typical acting, pacing, casting and believability, and with the added bonus of an O. Henry ending.

No, Opie and Abzug - NOT the damn candy bar!

This movie allows the double-entendred carcass of Bob Eubanks to revive The New Nude Newlywed Game - three couples in Hawaii involved is some stiff competition. What does the winning couple get for successfully outwitting the other two couples?

How about their lives!

Parting gifts for the losers?

How about a 9mm slug between the eyes or a having your nuts chewed off by a passing hammerhead shark?

Throw in the always wood-inducing Milla Jovovich and you've got yourself one hell of an entertaining movie!

Who am I kidding - I'd give five Naybobs to watch two hours of Milla Jovovich scrubbing a horse stall in leather chaps and a thong.

King Hippo felt an affinity for this movie because I actually grew up in the 50th state. As opposed to the crime-riddled city in which I now reside which consists of welfare scum, rednecks, half-wits and illegals that are” only-here-to-work”.

And by work – I mean – mowing my lawn, stealing my shit and clogging up the local emergency rooms.

So, as Bob Eubanks says, "Let’s meet the Newlyweds."
Couple #1- Cliff and Cydney - (Happy Newlyweds)
Couple #2 - Kale and his brain dead bitch Cleo - (White Trash Couple)
And Couple #3 – Please give a big hand for Nick and Gina - (Long Time Nudist Couple)

So, the story opens with the happy newlyweds - Couple #1 Cliff and Cydney – on the Island of Kauai for their honeymoon. They decide to tackle the legendary Kalalau trail -an eleven mile hike through valleys, streams, rainforest and mountain ridges that eventually leads to Ke'e Beach.

As they're preparing for the hike they find out that there has been a murder of a couple on Oahu and that the authorities suspect that the killers (who are identified as a couple) have fled to another Hawaiian island, most likely Kauai (What a coincidence!).

On the way to the trailhead Couple #1 stops to pick up a white trash couple (please give a big hand for couple #2 – Kale and Cleo!) hitching along the highway. After stopping to give couple #2 a ride, some wierd vibes develop between the couples and they mutually agree to go their separate ways, but not before Kale gives Cliff the "stink eye."

Note to Dan Cedar - "stink eye" does not refer to your lecherous obsession with Bibs Detroit's backdoor.

As couple #1 starts their hike along the trail, they come to an algae covered portion of the path which just happens to have a 300 foot drop to the bottom of the valley.

Fortunately, Nick happens along to grab Cydney before she slips off the treacherous portion of the trail. A guarded friendship forms...

Cliff (coincidentally named) then spies the aforementioned white trash couple (#2) coming around the bend and quickly agrees to take a detour with Nick to his waiting girlfriend Gina (#3) who just happens to be sunbathing nude under a waterfall. Schwing!!

Nick and Cydney waste no time in joining Gina au natural, but Cliff decides to hike to higher ground to see if he can get a signal on his cell phone to Google the current status of the murders on Oahu - as opposed to a no-holes-barred orgy (making whoopee) currently under way below the waterfall.

For those of you that have never met a heterosexual man – This is not normal!!

As Cliff starts his way down to the base of the waterfall. Who is there to intercept him - but couple #2. Tense moments between Cliff and Kale are diffused when Nick shows up and gives Kale the "special ops stare down".

The next morning, who shows up but state of Hawaii helicopter cops (gee, I guess pigs CAN fly) who swoop down and do a thorough cavity search and evidence extraction on Cleo and Kale (#2) before hog-tying them to be served at the next police luau.

I know what you’re saying – you sexually pre-occupied prepubescent, acne pock-marked pudsmackers that get your monthly subscription to Juggs in the mail because you don’t want to run into trolls like King Hippo down at the local Adult DVD Store, “Why can’t we just go back to the scene where the ménage is about to happen under the waterfall.”

And to the quasi-intelligent, nicely coifed out there who are saying, "Case closed. Book ‘em Danno!!”
Not so fast Jack Lord.

This is where the plot thickens to oatmeal - the approximate consistency of Abzug's gray matter. The rollercoaster of thrills is just beginning.

At this point the movie zigs and zags until the climax (easy, Dan.)

Initially I had an issue with the "flashbacks" toward the end of the movie.

I thought to myself, “Self!! Why would anyone with any logic and half a brain NEED these flashbacks to get them up to speed on what's going on?"

Then I thought of my monthly trips to pick up Dan Cedar at the state school to take him to the latest Power Rangers movie – Remember?? I also picked up his mother at the local crack house and had her orally inspect my glue gun for about 2 hours while little Danny was trying to figure out if the pink Ranger was supposed to be a boy or a girl.

Ahhh, but as the complete story unfolds there is actually a REASON for the flashbacks - and no, Paul Harvey, it's not just to clue you in to "the rest of the story" but actually to clue you into the mindset and actions of a certain couple so you couldn't figure out who the was the "bad couple".

Which abruptly (as with all of my sexual predilections) brings me to the King Hippo Sarcastic Movie Reviews writer's auditions.

I will be conducting the auditions with the following guidelines:
1.Must be female.
2.Must be skinny.
3.Must have that ginchy, eastern European look (Milla Jovovich, Mila Kunis, etc.)

Actual writing talent is optional.
Recent Ukranian, Bulgarian, Romanian (gymnasts only) and Hungarian imports are preferred – sans pit and pube hair.

But ‘NO’, I am not going to marry you, so that you can get your green card, dump my homely, middle-aged ass in two years and eventually end up leaving me for some tatted-up, buff-boy that has to sell stolen guitars to pawn shops to pay for his meth habit. But, again, I digress...

The interviews will be conducted in my basement and my address will be given out on a 'need to know' basis.
Please ignore the shackles, the donkey and the midget dressed in leather. DO NOT FEED HIM!!

Thank you veruh much.

"The King"

DOUBT - Aka…Effeminate Heterosexual Plays A Possibly Pedophiliac Priest

I will tell you Old Dan Cedar’s draw to this movie. I had recently seen the Pulitzer Prize (2005) winning play of the same name written by John Patrick Shanley. The movie was also written and directed by the same gentleman, and stars two of the great actors of our day.

So, they couldn’t fuck it up too much, right? Not so fast, Nostra-Dumbass…..

Having grown up a rebellious Catholic – It is always hard to find humor in the sexual deviant behavior and subsequent cover-up by church hierarchy. When I was Young Dan Cedar – I actually served as an altar boy in a church where a Monsignor was accused of sexual misconduct with young boys.

Unless I have some Roseanne Barr memories heretofore unearthed, I believe that I left St. Matthews unscathed, at least sexually speaking.

What makes Doubt – the material - so good - is that its two main characters are played against—modern-Hollywood-type. The characters initially are easily judged and pigeon-holed. Then a paradoxical side to each of the characters slowly develops.

The priest, Father Flynn (Phillip Seymour Hoffman) is played as a progressive, articulate man of the people who wants to embrace hope and change - and throw off the backward, old-guard way of thinking.

Sound like the newly elected leader of our country?

Suspicions are aroused and Father Flynn is accused of molesting a 12 year-old black boy.

This sobering subject matter doesn’t allow for much humor, but I found it a bit amusing that the alleged abuse happens in “the rectory”.

His Antagonist, Sister Aloysius (Meryl Streep) is played as a tee totaling, austere, woman that wants to take America, the church and its followers back to a more pious and modest time.

She also believes self-discipline (including not using sugar in coffee) and stern values should be re-emphasized to society in general. Sister Aloysius has no trouble looking after her flock as their shepherd and quickly, maybe too quickly, makes judgments about those with whom she sees as doing wrong.

Evil must be fought wherever it exists.

Sound like another recent President of The United States?
When Sister Aloysius is asked by Father Flynn, “Where is your compassion?”
She replies, “Nowhere you can get at it.”

Doubt – takes place in the autumn of 1964, less than a year after the assassination of John F. Kennedy.

America is seeking a new moral compass: sexually, racially, religiously and politically. Doubt shows us the struggles of how to deal with these things when there is uncertainty – as there is in most of our personal choices.

Things seem to be less black and white than even10 years earlier. Moral Relativism has begun to creep into the American consciousness and we are looking for people of vision to articulate these nuances for us.

The 60s were defined by visionaries: JFK, MLK, Robert Kennedy, The Beatles, Timothy Leary, Billy Graham, Mao, Castro, and Nixon.

All of these charismatic leaders had respect and power given to them.

Both the movie and the play take the audience to unexpected places morally and intellectually, although the movie is much less nuanced and draws more conclusions for the audience.

It is up to the rest of us to be the Sister Aloysius’s of society and not let that power go unchecked.

The weak in society are defenseless and should be protected!!

There are 40.000 dogs killed each year in dog fighting.
Indefensible! Outrageous! NO DOUBT!!

The church acknowledges about 11,000 accusations of child molestations by American clergy. Indefensible! Outrageous! NO DOUBT!

But there are 1,200,000 babies aborted EACH YEAR!!
Indefensible!
Where is the outrage? Where is your compassion?
Nowhere that I can get at it.
Would a movie have ever been made on this subject by a major studio?
I doubt it.

All of these acts are personal choices, but selfishness and moral relativism have replicated exponentially.

The educated and quasi-moral among us don’t go to dogfights or mess with kids, but there is that small chance we may be (in some way) involved in an unwanted pregnancy.

It’s much easier to judge those that aren’t like us at all – like the dog fighters, child abusers or even the Nazis.

We don’t judge because we don’t want to be hypocrites.

Maybe we all need a little more Sister Aloysius in our collective backbone and a little less tolerance.

If so, maybe this will be a safer place for the world’s children.

Doubtless, there will be more false accusations.

Maybe we will make things worse.

Maybe God likes these over-cussing movie reviews.

I have my doubts, but who the fuck knows?

THE HURT LOCKER - Aka… I'm Really Getting Tired of These Mother Fuckin' Ragheads

Here's a little REALITY with your morning coffee and/or crank — you Appalachian Hillbilly Fucks…Congratulations on getting your dial up connected to Al Gore’s greatest invention…

A snapshot of several days in the lives of the military heroes who enable you cock sucking liberals the ability to burn flags, ban the military from schools/cities, and provide the freedom you have for your gay parades and hippie Woodstock festivals.

If you haven’t guessed by now — Yes, You Rube, King Hippo was raised in a racist, military, and yet, multi — racial family and thereby can claim the racial moral high ground. And yes, I can blame any of you un — closeted, hapless, post — racial fucks that are efforting to run this great country into the bowels of mother earth. And if given a half — ass Lee Harvey Oswald — type of opportunity…I will execute every mother fucking one of you!!

The Hurt Locker is probably the most realistic Iraq/Afghanistan war movie to date. Everything else — in typical Hollywood fashion — ends up being some liberal indictment of the war.

It manages to stay neutral and just present the facts. This is even more amazing coming from a woman director. She probably has a bigger love bump than Dan Cedar’s vasectomised man— clit. If I had an extra $100, I am quite sure that I could bed her.

This is the story of an explosive ordnance squad in Iraq whose thankless job is to find and disarm improvised explosive devices. It is called an (IED) — you worthless maggot — infested dopeheads who've just awoken from your 10 year ‘spirit quest’ after your mom opened your window to let the hashish cloud you've been sleeping under finally dissipate. Even if you move to the reservation in Arizona – you can’t have the hash be part of your ‘religion’, Pope Bong— A— Dick!!

The opening scene finds the boys, sans their team leader, after some camel jockey butcher uses his cell phone to detonate an IED close enough to Sgt Matt Thompson (Guy Pearce) to kill him. Sgt Thompson was required to physically walk up to the bomb because "number 5" (Short Circuit) dropped his douche bucket of C4 before it got close enough to safely detonate the IED.

Ok, the "mars robot" and subsequent toy trailer connected to it — looked like something "invented" by Homer Simpson. Really? I mean, a Wal—Mart Radio Flyer wagon hooked up to a radio controlled big wheel would have worked better than the piece of shit the Army provided. Probably, underfunded by some fucking Dems.

Which reminds me —I have a good Wal— Mart story, but I will get to that…

Anyway, the new team leader —Staff Sgt William James (Jeremy Renner) seems to either have a death wish or is an adrenaline junkie. Or, as Sgt JT Sanborn (Anthony Mackie) describes him: "just red neck trailer trash." Again, welcome to the world wide web, Gomer. How are things down at the fillin’ station?

The movie weaves in and out of various "disarming situations" in Baghdad and surrounding areas, including a scene where Sgt Sanborn gets to unleash a semi automatic .50 caliber Barrett on terrorist ass at, oh, three miles away!

Schwing!

You've got lead! Here, let me help you pull that .50 caliber slug out of your sand “African — American” ass...Oh, I'm sorry, you don't HAVE an ass anymore!

My only problem with this movie is that it couldn't decide whether it wanted to be a documentary or a purely fictitious story. What you get — is a combination of both — which causes it to become disjointed at times. Yes, very much like this review.

And spare me the Blair Witch Project camera work —fuck!

Hey Hollywood, it's called a gyro stablizer!

Do you want me to puke on the old geezer in front of me? He might be a war vet.

On the other hand — it may just be Old Dan Geezer — and even though he looks aged enough to have fought in Korea — that is just from the number of ‘love of his life’ strippers and Shipley’s Donuts’ attendants that have ripped his still beating heart from between his man boobs!! Or maybe, if he would spend more time attending to this god — forsaken website — perhaps Old Dan could get a higher grade stripper that DOESN’T have a coin — belt attached to her g — string.

OK, Already!! Here is the fucking Wal — Mart story…

I bought said gyro— stabilizer at Wal— Mart a couple of weeks ago thanks to a nice fella named Haji. But it turns out the red, white and blue – Made in the USA sticker — when pealed off — revealed that it was actually made by a quite industrious 10— year old in Malaysia. If he could be trained to write a half — ass review — maybe we could bring him on — board to take some of this overly — demanding, mind — numbing work load off of my ass.

I know…back to the movie. As The Hurt Locker prattled on —I kept wishing for an Improvised Point Device (IPD). I found myself constantly scanning my watch — 5, 6,7 times — looking for a point to this over — hyped motion picture. You see —just because the movie isn’t a left — winged propagandized vision of the incompetence of the military — doesn’t mean there is a point.

A bomb can explode or implode — much like a movie.
It can be a loud and impressive sight.
But — the former hits its target and makes an impact.
The latter collapses in upon itself and disperses in countless directions.

Another note to Dan Cedar: I think you should pick up one of those bomb suits they use in the movie. It would minimize your ER visits to have buckshot removed from your Hank Hill ass after your nightly peeping escapades.

Anyway, I have to get back to my overly obsessive pubic shorning….

And for the last time — Old Dan — No Trespassing means you!!

ADVENTURELAND - Aka...Nerd meets Girl

A coming of age comedy where nobody actually cums.

Amadeus… Amadeus… Rock me Amadeus…

This song is repeatedly heard throughout this movie.
Hated the song then. Hate it now. There are a lot of Flashbacks in this jewel especially for a middle aged “previous stoner” he… he… white guy.

FLASHBACK…

Set in 1987, Adventureland circles around a mom and pop Six Flags that serves as a place of employment where the benefits include getting high, drunk and laid. The main character is James Brennan, a curly haired pseudo intellectual teenage moocher who is informed that his parents will not be able to subsidize journalism school and needs to find work. James lands a job where his future undergrad degree can shine… announcing the play by play at the pony race in the Adventureland game section.

FLASHBACK...

James is surrounded by carnie freaks — the smell of cabbage is in the air. He is closely watched by the infectiously hot Em, played by Twilight babe Kristen Stewart. James is facing the reality of his situation by doing what every guy would do, hide his bulge with one of the game prizes, roll up some tree and the enjoy the burn in the back of the throat. James’ popularity grows as he pulls out the perpetually memorable Ziploc baggie of joints.

Getting high was (and is) a very respectable thing. As long as I don’t publish my real name on this website. Mr. Roebuck wouldn’t be happy with that little revelation.

FLASHBACK…

What my 13 year-old son Timmy doesn’t know — he can’t hold against me later. Namely, when his strung-out girlfriend hands him a crusty, used, HIV infected syringe full of black-tar heroin — after he runs away to live on the streets of Ventura Boulevard — followed closely by his methadone intervention.

But Timmy, we were just having a good time. It’s not a gateway drug. Timmy!!

Anyway… James winds his way through an eventually memorable summer.

He becomes infatuated with a roller coaster ride vixen and almost loses out on the opportunity with Em who is actually having an affair with a married older park mechanic stud that looks a lot like your humble movie reviewer.

Didn’t think they would leave out the romantic triangle in this thriller did you?

I would have rather jacked off to my Farrah Fawcett poster than have sex with my first black girlfriend because she didn’t have a clue what to do with her mouth. No flashback here. I will resist the temptation to brag about my amusement park Pink Thing.

Amadeus… Amadeus… Rock me Amadeus…

As the summer winds down, James works it out with Em and eventually (we are lead to believe) loses his virginity.
This movie is a tribute to whoever lived through a summer job during the 80’s when priorities were right: Drinking (sans Mad Mothers), avoiding getting racked by your best buddy, bitching at a friend who rolls thin joints and listening to the best music ever.

God Bless Judas Priest. Hell Yeah!!

80’s rocked!!

Uncomplicated music for an uncomplicated movie reviewer. Hell Yeah!!

Abzug rocks!!

Thanks for the well wishes on my recently celebrated 46th birthday!! I have found that I have a turn “back the clock” mind, but recently the folds in my middle aged body have forced me to begin using Right Guard Gel in the void between my bulbous thighs and sagging middle-aged balls to rid myself of both the milky-white lather and its associated stench. Male menopause isn’t pretty, so…

FLASHBACK…

Wait!! No flashback here, just rolling a fattie and booting-up Internet Explorer to apply for as on-line posting as a stud park mechanic for Six Flags. Watch out girls!!

I am 46, studly and holding he…he…

What’s past is prologue.

ANVIL, THE STORY OF ANVIL - Aka…What the hell you doing with your pathetic life?

You grind at your job everyday…yes sir, no sir — or even worse…”yes ma’am, no ma’am”. You follow all the rules, making “the man” happy and hoping to get that .0000004% raise, so you can churn out a kid just like yourself and maintain the status quo. You work long hours to keep up with those goddamn Joneses, Jenkins’ or whoever the hell lives next door.

If you buy that trendy euro-trash sedan — you feel successful. But the only thing you are successful at is mimicking the herd’s definition of what you should have and what you should do. Yeah, your bullshit self esteem is based on a hood ornament and the fact that you think that U2 is really a great band.

I make a lot of correct assumptions, considering we haven’t met, right?

Come on, really?

Every dream that you had in the early days of your life is beaten back into your subdivisioned skull. Those dreams included making that amateur porno, riding shotgun with a cop, being a DJ at a totally nude club, and possibly being a roadie for your favorite “guaranteed to fail” garage band down the street - merely because they do a great cover of the Judas Priest song “Living after Midnight”.

You can also forget your ridiculous ambition to write sarcastic movie reviews for some fly by night, soon to fail website - where you can also soon sign up for email notification of the latest reviews. Thanks for being a valued reader and fellow meth addict and now back to the review…

I give you Steve “Lips” Kudlow and Robb Reiner and their film…Anvil, The Story of Anvil. This film is fantastic and these guys are my heroes. They are doing what they love to do and will not give into any edict from society — unlike you and — especially me.

This “Rockumentary” follows the history of a band known by few and not actually liked by anyone. The film not only tells the band’s history, but also of their comeback in 2007.

Comeback???

Comeback from what????,
Not selling music????,
Churning out more anal regurgitation known as Heavy Metal??.

Hey Fellas, if I want to worship a heavy metal band — you’d better believe that it will start with a guy in leather — leading a gay pride parade.

I bought albums when I was a kid — based solely on the fact that I knew it was metal and the album art kicked ass — with one or more tits in play, some fire and possibly a reference to Satan.

One historic purchase of mine was the Anvil album “Hard and Heavy”.
I had no clue that Anvil was still living the dream.

These guys met in high school biology class and the formation of a garage band was soon to follow. Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll (SDRR) would not be just a phase — like it is for most, but a life long continuous Jonesing.

Seriously, does it get any better than this combination?

Lips and Robb started playing at a very early age. They love the music and vow to do this until death. They have evolved into two repulsive as hell 50 year old guys who just won’t let it go. And have no plans to do so. They have regular BS jobs during the day, but take off time to play and go on tour.

This is truly Spinal Tap minus the fiction plus an actual trip to Stonehenge.

Lips describes the creation of their first songs called “Thumb Hang” which came from one of their history books. Does anyone ever actually listen to metal lyrics?
Hey fellas — this may part of the problem.

Just keep it simple — 2 chords — monotonously repeating over and over.
Lyrics — SDRR. Again, repetition is the key.

Any questions — You just call Abzug!!

The film follows the pathetic (but lovable) band members to the Rockfestival.

All the famous rockers avoid them like the plague since no on has ever heard of them, and — OH, Yeah — Anvil really kinda sucked, so I can’t blame anyone for not digging them.

There is also a tour to Belgium and Transylvania. These places love their metal, but are hesitant about actually buying a ticket to listen live to a band that sucks.

Interviews with their family members are funny as shit. The only thing that Lips’ mom really wanted was for him to earn more money. Shut up bitch! Your kid is doing something he loves!! How many parents can say this? Keep pushing the dinero and he will have a shotgun to his head.

I know what you’re thinking — Abuzug, there are a bunch of musicians that followed their musically-fated hearts, only to end up dead. Maybe, Cobain, Joplin, Presley, Hendrix, Coltrane, Holliday, Mama Cass, M. Jackson, Morrison, Bon Scott, Moon, etc…Maybe, if their moms were a little more involved and a little less enabling — all of those guys would still be alive. Hey Cockwad — If you want Barbara Billingsley as your fucking mother, that is fine by me. Just tell her to keep her fucking Beaver out of my business. But this isn’t all about me, so…

Lips tries a job at selling fake sunglasses over the phone. His boss (and huge Anvil fan) says that if his sales do well — he will make a “shitwack” of money.
The “Foakley” gig lasts about 3 hours.

One bonus for Anvil. There is that there is no “Yoko” factor, just two skanky, fat, white chicks who married a person they loved and are willing to live in borderline, abject poverty to help him live the dream. The last time I got laid — I couldn’t even get that douche bag to shut her pie hole, so I could relax and watch Die Hard on TNT for the 14th time — to try and drown out those erstwhile semi-forgotten dreams.

But that was a while back, and I know what you’re thinking — Abuzug, you are a middled-aged, piece of shit middle-manager tucked safely within some corporate cradle of cubicles — just waiting out the five years you have until your Lurch-like son finally reaches 18 — so you can stop paying the $212 per month to help his hideous, chud-like mother, so she can kick his dumbass off to junior college — where he will drop out after 3 semesters — just like his old man.

Wow!! You make a lot of correct assumptions - considering we haven’t met.

But, again, this is about the movie…

What is really pathetic, is that these guys have busted their collective asses and sacrificed so much — while a dim-witted bitch like Britney Spears makes millions promoting sex and music to teenaged whores who would sell their soul or have sex with someone (such as myself) to have one ounce of success.

Show me some ID — Make me an offer — And I will make you famous!!

Lips and Robb love their music, each other and their families.

No matter how much success or failure comes their way, nothing will ever come before friends and family.

Lips, so eloquently conveys this with, “Family is important Shit man!!”.

Now what are your priorities again?

FOOD, INC - Aka… Absolute Corn Corrupts, Absolutely

When you see this movie — be sure to order a giant tub of popcorn,
several bags of candy and a giant Coke.

As you munch, crumple and slurp — all of the hipster doofuses that will be watching this film with you at the local bohemian art house — will snidely sneer at you throughout…

Chomp loudly, slurp hard and stay thirsty, my friend.
But beware; prepare to steel your stomach for the sum total.

This is a documentary about our food system.
Why it used to be great.
But how now (fat cow) it is BAD.
Because, of course, it isn’t natural.

Now, Old Dan Cedar has never rung the neck of a chicken, gutted a pig or driven a steel spike through the forehead of an unsuspecting cow — to initiate the family sit-down at the dinner table. So, maybe I am not real tied in to the home grown, pot fest that most of these film makers rely on to get their un-processed high.

But, mark my words, this is a great documentary which will no-doubt win the Oscar — come next spring.

We follow the production of chickens, cows, pigs and interestingly, corn and how IT has become the cheap staple of our diet and our food’s diet.

Everything — and I do mean — Everything — is made from corn.
Big Government, it seems, is in cahoots with Big Farm and Ranch Business.
And even though we are making tons of food and feeding millions of more mouths than was possible 100 years ago — we aren’t doing it the right way.

This is leading to livestock eating corn by-products. This, as Marty Feldman said in Young Frankenstein — is Abbie Normal. So, because we aren’t regulating the ranchers and making them feed grass to their livestock. This is leading to unnatural flora in the food supply. We are also pumping these animals with antibiotics — which, interestingly, is not killing the bacteria.

So, to over-emphasize this — we meet a little 2 year old boy who ate some hamburgers and died from E. coli poisoning. Truly a tragedy that I personally couldn’t deal with as bravely as his mother. Yes, goddammit, Old Dan Cedar has some feelings under this leather, calloused exterior.

This method of producing chow is also leading to a prevalence of Type 2 diabetes in our sweet, little old country.

The most unintentionally funny scene of Food, Inc. occurs when an organic free range chicken rancher is being interviewed. No, he is not a pimp — you, prepubescent, single-minded, sexually-preoccupied Igmo.

Anyway, Rancher Rick is dropping some antibiotic-free chickens headfirst into metal cylinders — presumably, only moments prior to their beheading. The pristine cluckers know that their penultimate moment is here — and all are echoing resounding, “No, No, No, No…..” Much like horrified Republicans surrounding their TVs as election returns rolled in last November.

I could yelp about this movie being made by a bunch of tree-hugging-communists trying to save the planet and bring changes via union influence to the despicable conditions in which these hapless workers toil, but that would be an over-simplification.

On the other hand, in the local paper, the day after seeing this movie, there was a tiny, two-sentence story about the very plant in Tar Heel, North Carolina that was vilified in the movie. It seems that the company has offered a new contract to improve working conditions that will be up for ratification next week. Hmmmm…

A point that is largely ignored is that all of the corn that goes to ethanol production was not just made to de-carbon-ify our little blue rock circling the sun.
No, it was done via government subsidies to help the mega-corn corporations make more dinero for all of that spare maze that we add to the petrol.

Another point that is largely overlooked is that mass producing food has always been revolting and dangerous for those on the front-line of that business.

The impact of Upton Sinclair’s 1903 novel, The Jungle, is brushed aside in less than a minute, although this is clearly THE unseen father of Food, Inc.
But who wants to hear how bad things were 100 years ago? Not this audience. We want to blame big government and big business of the last 20 years.

History, Shmistory…

But just for grins — 106 years after The Jungle, this movie also references employee “slavery”, lack of accountable government authority and the poor, vulnerable immigrants. Food, Inc. seeks many of the same honorable changes.

The strong constantly prey on the weak and those that are the greediest are the most corrupt. NO SHIT??!!!!!

And yes, there are huge problems.
You see this is a capitalist country. And we are all a bunch of greedy bastards that really just want to eat cheaply — damned our kids’ health and our own diabetes.

The problem is that big government and big businesses are STILL in cahoots to make money and get re-elected. It is called Democracy and Capitalism.

Just remember that the not so dearly departed Soviet Union had its own communal problems with hunger. In the early 1930s — after Upton Sinclair had blamed capitalism for all of the ills of society — between 2.5 and 10 million people starved to death because of Soviet policies that forced farmers into collective farms.

The movie’s given solution is that we should spend more money and eat organic. Vote with your pocketbook.

We also don’t dive much into the “When is organic, organic?” question.
But, I understand, it doesn’t need to be a 4 hour movie.

There is supposed to be a nice little, “We are the World” ending where everyone in the theater is supposed to hold hands, “And make the world a better place for you and me.” If only we could have reunited Quincy Jones and the gloved one together before the King of Pop fizzled out…we could have solved this crisis as efficiently as the starving African calamity was averted.

Instead — I dropped a, largely corn-born, methane crop dusting on the unsuspecting pods of socialism — dispersed throughout this little, local artsy-fartsy ocho-plex.

This movie could have also been titled,
HOW BIG FOOD BUSINESS AND BIG GOVERNMENT ARE BAD

It seems that these are — more often than not — the same folks that want to be in charge of your healthcare.

If you can’t entrust them with creamed, fucking corn – how do you feel about relying on them to treat your anal cancer?

PUBLIC ENEMIES - Aka… Public Enemas

Synopsis: Johnny Depp dresses up, acts straight, kills cops and dies.

While watching a bad movie my mind tends to wander. When I look back on my notes — that is when I realize — I wasn’t as engaged as I probably should have been. But I don’t feel guilty, because that whacko — Johnny Depp was obviously trying to stretch his range of freaky, flitting, film fucks (see Willie Wonker and Ed Scissor-digits)

I was in a semi-conscious state seeing JD efforting to assume the Suited Hetero Gangster for 2 and a half hours. And I do mean EFFORTING.

But I will get back to this later.

First, the movie.

It should have been called Dillinger. This was the smooth criminal with whom we spent 95% of the story. Johnny Depp is THE star.

Yet, for some reason, Director, Michael Mann, needs a handful of Ritalin because he can’t decide what to focus on. We have “Baby Face” Nelson, “Pretty Boy” Floyd and a handful of other criminals that keep weaving in and out of the film for no apparent reason. This is what happens when you try to make a mini-series into a movie.

We do discover that Christian Bale, who plays FBI agent and JD pursuer Melvin Purvis, can actually speak in a southern accent 3 octaves higher than he does as Batman. He is almost actually audible.

Endless chase and gunfight scenes ensue.

One thing the movie does well. The cops aren’t all good guys.
We know what they know. If they are going to fight the bad guys — they have to fight like bad guys. And they do…

The Feds put an ass-whipping on JD’s girlfriend to get some tortured false confession tantamount to when Elwood Blues sends the over-zealous Protectors and Servers on a wild goose chase to Wrigley Field in The Blues Brothers.

My mind again wandered. This time — to the stretched yarns of the twisted-armed detainees at Gitmo.

”Bin Laden is in that cave over there, yeah, that one… that’s the ticket.”

We also get an abundant amount of close-ups — on the order of what we would see in a 2 and a half hour Clearasil commercial.

IT IS DISTRACTING. KIND OF LIKE SOMEONE TYPING AN ENTIRE REVIEW IN ALL CAPITAL LETTERS. I MEAN REALLY, WHAT’S THE POINT!!

Mann is undoubtedly trying to evoke the stylistic, depression-era bank robbing underpinnings of Arthur Penn’s 1967 classic Bonnie and Clyde. This was built — in large degree — on the sexual tension between Faye Dunaway and Warren Beatty.

Instead of a classic, we get an amateurish facsimile.

Big Problem. There is ZERO chemistry between Dillinger and the girl that is “the love of his life” — Bille.

Marion Cotillard, who plays Billie, has won an Academy Award. So, we definitely have two good actors. The chemistry is so bad, that I rushed home to check out NNDB to see if JD is listed as “Straight”.

He is. But, let’s just say — I wouldn’t mortgage the house...

He fights the urge as long as he can, but after all — Dillinger is only human.
This amounts to about 15 seconds after “the love of his life” is arrested. He gives a ring a ding to the Madame at the local whorehouse — to work him in some of that fine, store-bought pussy.

And my Brontasaurus brain begins to, once again, wander.

We see Depp smile at one point in the movie for about 1.5 seconds.
There is good reason. The guy has been smoking since he was 12.

Fucking 12!!

And it shows.

An impeccable wardrobe can’t overcome the grungy pearly browns.

Why a movie star that makes shit piles of money — can’t spend 20 grand to get some veneers — is beyond me. And don’t give me that shit about how he is an actor and doesn’t want to be a star.

The “I am an actor” line doesn’t work for another reason. The guy is fucking wearing eyeliner and mascara.
Depp likes the fags and I know he has to be pissed because — apparently, Dillinger didn’t smoke. JD looks like he can’t wait to get back to the trailer to torch one up.

We also get an idea of why automatic weapons aren’t allowed on the streets of our cities anymore. The amount of fake ammo in this movie is comparable to the spent shells on the beaches of Normandy.

And with all of that — Nobody!! Cops, criminals, innocent women and children — NOBODY is afraid. They stand there getting shot — like they are on the set of a movie and NOBODY is going to REALLY get killed. Oh, yeah, it’s fake ammo.
I almost forgot.

The first time JD gets shot — he grunts, groans and, of course, is back in a 3 piece suit within 30 seconds after cleaning up copious amounts of blood.

I hate to keep comparing. But Bonnie and Clyde has some extremely strong and memorable supporting performances. The supporters here are fine, but underutilized and none stand out.

Finally, we get to the ambush to which we know the film has been building. It is outside of a movie theater. Mind you — I was hoping someone would put a cap in my ass when I walked out of this shitfest.

Ala, Bonnie and Clyde, it is in slow motion. But the suspense is not there.

When I actually did get up to exit the theater — I was thrilled that my legs worked and hadn’t fallen asleep as had most of the neurons in my brain.

Upon exiting — I did give an immediate review from my bladder on the Cineplex wall. If my colon would have cooperated — I would have gladly added some extra punctuation.

REVOLUTIONARY ROAD - Aka… Way to harsh my 1950’s mellow, you Insufferable Dreamers and Suburban Slutbags

By the way, Dear Readers, I’m the token Femme Reviewer for this testosterone and B.O.-laden movie review site, so you’ll have to cut me some slack if I’m not as crude and misogynistic as the other reviewers, especially our bone-headed editor. After the hack-job he did on my previous review I may have to go all Valkyrie on his ass, and that won’t be pretty, considering the fact that I weigh 500 pounds and live in a trailer.

Anyway, I’m here to bring some womanly sensitivity and tolerance into this circle jerk known as sarcasticmoviereviews.com. So fuck off with that machismo shit and let the lady do her thang.

(…Ok, who am I kidding? I can probably out-crude the lot of these lunatics, but with the tact, editing skills and empathy that only a female can provide, depending on the time of the month, of course.)

Now to the movie review!

Kate and Leo back are back from their ill-fated billion dollar boat ride — together again.

April “Slutbag” Wheeler (Kate Winslet) failed at the only thing she ever wanted to do — ACT! In the opening scene of Revolutionary Road she humiliates herself in front of her friends, family and husband, Frank (Leonardo DiCaprio), in a local production of “Who Gives a Shit” at the neighborhood high school.

Frank tries to make light of it and encourages her to go out for drinks and an S&M foursome with their friends.

April is annoyed by Frank’s insensitivity to her and tells him to fuck off with that shit. At this point of the film, the first 10 minutes mind you, I wanted to whisk poor, lazy Frank away from that bitter shrew and give him the hand job and piece of apple pie that he deserved.

Poor, lazy Frank Wheeler. All he ever wanted to do was run off to Paris to live the life of the Intellectual Post-war Bohemian. He disdains the 9 - 5 office job he holds in marketing at Knox Business Machines because it means he is a conformist. Why? He’s better than that!

Yeah, me too, did I tell you what a Fucking Moronic Fuck my editor is?

Frank and April believe they are too “special” for the suburban reality on Revolutionary Road. It’s suffocating! It’s boring! They are revolutionaries!

Insufferable Dreamers. Free spirits with things, places and people to do!

April tells Frank “For years I thought we shared this secret, that we would be wonderful in the world.” Yeah April, I used to tell my ex-husband that all the time — right after I paid the mortgage, did the grocery shopping, cleaned the bathrooms and washed the skid marks out of his shorts. Ah, life.

While at work on his 30th birthday, Frank treats himself to a busty, young thing from the secretarial pool over a 10 martini lunch. Ahh, the 50’s. Good times and no sexual harassment hassles.

When he gets home that evening, April and the kids are there, sunny and smiling, with dinner and a birthday cake waiting. Fucking Happy Family Fucks.

April discovers and old photo of Frank in Paris on D-Day. “That’s it!” she thinks to herself. We’ll move to Paris! We’ll live the life of adventure! We’ll pursue our dreams!

April tells Frank that he can study and explore while she supports the family in Paris by working as a secretary for the U.N. and by blowing French guys for extra cash. Because, of course, those secretarial jobs pay extremely well and those French guys are really tired of improvising with hollowed out croissants. Frank falls for April’s renewed lust for life because the thought of Paris makes her horny. Very, very horny. Paris! Yes! Yesssss!!! Oh GOD PAAAARRIIIIIS!!!
*lights cigarette*

Lazy Fucking Frank unwittingly pleases a client with a marketing idea and suddenly he’s Knox’s Golden Boy, up for promotion and giant bags of money. Coincidentally — he changes his mind about Paris. They can be happy in Paris! Well, Fuck Paris and, by the way, remember when the Slutbag April didn’t want the foursome. NOW — it’s her idea, so it’s ok that she fucks the same guy that Lazy Frank suggested at the beginning of the film.

Slow down you little hussy!! April finds out she’s 10 weeks pregnant, before they’re scheduled to move to suburbs de Paris. She lets Frank know, but tells him she can “get rid of it” before she’s reached 12 weeks. They fight, yes again. April tells Frank she hates him, but dishes need to be washed, clothes need to be folded, and dust bunnies need to be vacuumed. Welcome to reality, morons.

Dinner party showdown scene: John, the schizophrenic son of Mr. and Mrs. Givings (Kathy Bates), serves as the contrived “conscience” of the film. He exposes April and Frank’s personality disorders and emotional frailties with his relentless personal questions, as only a conscientious schizo can do.

God love the crazies.

The one saving grace about this scene is that Kathy Bates didn’t pull an About Schmidt and repulse us all with her pale, quivering blob of a naked body. Although this is also the only film I can recall where Kate Winslet did NOT get nekkid. What’s up with THAT? Probably because her husband, Sam Mendes, was the film’s director…

The Givens family is kicked out of the house.

Another fight between the titanic duo. April has back alley epiphany. Hummm, I wonder what it could be?

She gets up the next morning and plays June Cleaver. This is the acting performance of her life! Frank is surprised, given what transpired the night before, but he doesn’t question her motives.

Frank leaves in a chipper mood, believing his wife has resigned herself to her role in Suburbia. But little does he know that she’s reconciled herself to a date with a botched abortion on their bathroom floor.
*cue dramatic piano crescendo*

April dies in the hospital from blood loss. Frank is desolate and moves on with his tragically neglected kids to the city.
A new couple moves into the Wheeler house on Revolutionary Road to die that slow death of suburbia. The film ends with Mr. Givens turning the volume down on his hearing aid while Mrs. Givens rambles on about the Wheeler”s and god knows what else. Apparently that’s the real secret to finding happiness in suburbia, knowing when to turn down your hearing aid and tune the fuck out.

I didn’t read the novel by Richard Yates, but now, I definitely won’t. I’d rather set fire to my trailer and slit my wrists in a warm bath (remember kids, it’s down, not sideways!).

That “revolutionary” American spirit is dead. Well, what else is new?

There really are “special” people out there, but you’re lucky if you get to be one of them.

Really, you Insufferable Dreamers and Slutbags, just fuck off with that shit.

TAKEN - Aka...Die Hard IV, except with Liam Fucking Neeson instead of Bruce Willis

...as in "this movie plot was already taken 30 years ago." It was called Hardcore and it starred George C. Scott posing as a porn director trying to find his missing daughter. I've never been so horrified seeing a rug on someone's head...until Donald Trump came along. The digressions keep on coming...If you want to see some real good porn try Behind The Green Door starring the recently departed and former Ivory soap model Marilyn Chambers.

Again, I should focus on the task at hand…but I didn’t take my Ritalin today.

The ONLY saving grace is Liam Neeson's acting...but just barely. The too-obvious opening scenes set up Neeson's 17 year old daughter going to France for a few months with her girlfriend to see "museums" — but in reality, following U2's European tour as teenage groupies. An obvious choice being that U2 is the only middle-aged, Christian, green zealot, pro-Aids, Pro-choice rock and roll act that conducts neoplasia on the ovaries of teenage uteri the world over.

The same amount of outlining went into this script as goes into my hastily jotted down movie reviews. Namely None. If you don’t like it — Control-Alt-Delete — Walk your fat ass over to your remote. Turn fucking Greta Van Sustern on and see if she can bring you some “Breaking News” tease before she makes your right-winged ass sit through 3 minutes of commercials, only to tell you that there is new information from Aruba that has just been released in the Natalee Holloway case.

FUCK ME!!

Jack Bauer has more plausible story lines.

Neeson objects — but finally relents after the ex's chiding and his daughter's pouting. If it was me, both of them would have gotten the back of my hand, and the wife (played by Famke Janssen) would have gotten a grudge fuck in the ass sans lube — as was given to me when I was a bad boy.

Neeson's character is ex CIA, NSA, FBI, NBA — who the fuck knows? Anyway, his daughter and her girlfriend are abducted — day one after arriving in Paris. In keeping with his knowledge of overseas intelligence, "Dad" mounts a one man rescue operation of his daughter armed with nothing more than an address and the few seconds he speaks to her as she's being dragged away to who knows where. Oh, that’s right — HE DOES!!

This skill would have probably come in handy for Neeson while he was skiing in Canada this winter. FOCUS!!

The only contact he has in Paris is an ex French intelligence officer who is now a desk jockey and, as we find out later, has knowledge of the abductions but withholds information to protect "important people”. That is called a run-on-sentence — kids — without one fucking comma. All hail, King Hippo!!

So the story continues as Neeson, an American, shakes down Albanians, Arabs, French, Africans, and Americans in Paris and EVERYONE speaks "American style" english. WHAT THE FUCK?!

So, Daddy has the omniscience to become an international sleuth and has Ninja moves reminiscent of the recently hanged David Carradine. That makes me hot just writing about them - and he is an all around bad-ass. But he can’t figure out that his daughter, who is at the top of her sizzling, little damsel in distress peak, isn’t going to spend an entire summer wandering the Louvre.

Brilliant!!

He also manages to "acquire" everything from a Beretta pistol to an H&K MP5 in a country that has harsher gun laws than Mexico! King Hippo loves him some guns.

The rest of the movie follows the carnage Neeson inflicts on the previously mentioned Albanians, French, Arabs and Americans. I must admit, watching Neeson popping caps in Euro Trash Ass, gave me the same wood as watching Steven Segal splintering long bones without anesthesia in Out For Justice. Hard to say whether that is just my man crush on Liam and Steve or my flashing on Kelly LeBrock and Natasha Richardson giving King Hippo the Oreo Treatment.

Here is an idea. Sit down; Talk to your kids about who they’re getting their X from at high school this week. Drop them off at the local rave and then hang out by the front door and see if your middle-aged ass can pick up the first cellulite embedded chick from the drill team that stumbles out.

Good Grief. I have to finish this review….

Anyway, he rescues his daughter and NO ONE in France has a single question for him. For those of you who regretted missing Shindler's List, just watch this movie — Neeson kills just as many people. The only difference is they're not Jews...like Old Dan Cedar.

Bravo!!

TERMINATOR SALVATION - Aka...We'll Keep Making Them If You Numbskulls Keep Paying

The Hollywood sequel machine just keeps on regurgitating. Has Hollywood had an original movie idea in the last 20 years? Are there enough machinery swipes from the Matrix movies? Is it safe to assume that a couple of years after 2018 there will be a time machine? Oh goody — I'll be alive to see that.

Unless I uncase my AK-47 and allow my carcass to be used as target practice by the local Po-Po after emptying 80 rounds into a leisurely moving Prius.

But, I digress…

According to recent Hollywood "intellect," any number of versions of the same person at different ages will be able to exist in the same place at the same time because of time travel and there will be no "paradox issues."

Anyway; this snoozer involves the "grown up" John Conner as a leader in the "resistance" in the post apocalyptic world of Skynet. Everything about this movie is based on World War II — from the rounding up of humans (Jews) in "cattle cars" to be "processed" at the Skynet headquarters (Concentration Camps) to the "resistance" (French Underground) in WWII. The only thing missing is Hitler, but a computer generated cameo of Arnold Schwarzenegger suffices. Hey, he's an Austrian — same difference as a kraut, just more steroids. By the way, Arnie, thanks for giving some time back to the art community while your beloved cinco syllabic state is hemorrhaging money faster than King Hippo blowing top while watching Maria Sharapova’s comeback at the French Open.

So, John Conner rejects the command for a coordinated attack on Skynet because he wants to save his father (the character Kyle Reese) who has been caught in a "round up" and is being held at Skynet headquarters in San Francisco. He knows that Reese is his father because of the tapes his (now dead) mother left him which explained “the situation."

His father just happens to be younger than he is — WHAT THE FUCK?!?!

So, apparently Kyle Reese's jaunt back in time DID fuck up the timeline. But WHO CARES? It's Hollywood — WE CAN DO WHATEVER THE FUCK WE WANT AND NOT HAVE TO MAKE ANY LOGICAL EXPLANATIONS FOR ANYTHING! I mean, if time travel is so damn easy — why not go back in time and destroy Skynet before it gets going? DUH!!

Now — I know what you are thinking. King Hippo — you seem to be real caught up in this whole plot line for somebody that has a life. Well, let me tell you something, Jonnie Douchebag, I don’t have a life.

Unless you consider — writing for this godforsaken movie review site, collecting comic books and guns, driving to suckle my mom’s teat every other weekend and generally avoiding as much human interaction as possible — a life!!

But look at it this way, JD, you are reading my meandering, worthless thoughts — Not the other way around. That is why I am King Hippo and you are King Douchebag!! But, once again, I digress…

I have to admit, there was one consistency with making San Francisco the headquarters for Skynet. Over the last 50 years it's been taken over (in no particular order) by the queers, the feminist cunts, the illegal aliens, the tree huggers, the military haters, the bums, the child molesters, and the hippies.

So it would only be logical that the "machines" would be welcomed with open arms to take their rightful place on the city council — after all — in San Francisco the minority dictates to the majority.

If you're into mindless special effects and constant action then you'll be happy to join King Hippo at the Jizzathon watching this movie. I'm just tired of the visuals taking the place of good writing and acting and this movie is a perfect example.

To think, I passed on the opportunity to see UP instead of this dung heap...

But as long as you mindless lemmings keep jumping, face first, to see a movie because — 20 years ago — before the salt peter of life, squashed your ever-ready erection while you continuously walked around tenting your Levi’s – there was a movie that had a portion of the same title and now you are fated to see any incarnation, thereafter… King Naybob will keep you abreast as to how much your self-imposed Down’s Syndrome has affected your idiotic choice in movies.

I'm about to piss my pants with anticipation with the thought of the new Transformers movie coming out this summer.

THE GIRLFRIEND EXPERIENCE - Aka… Pleasing myself pleases me

I looked forward to this movie. I heard about Sasha Grey several months ago during a personal research project I was doing one late night using many of my cherished human behavior websites.

My personal thesis was a comparative analysis between, beautiful brunettes and their willingness to let their mouths be used as a sacred “discharge” hole for men, and the obvious “anything goes” blonde population.

After long, digit numbing research, the analysis was complete and my adoration of brunettes with long hair, a great ass, full lips, and sexy white tip fingernails continues to be visually reinforced on a daily basis while looking down at my crusty, calloused right hand. But I digress.

On this day, The Girlfriend Experience appeared on the large screen. This is good news since I currently have 29 Trojan horses infecting my hard drive due to my research.

Sasha plays an upscale hooker (Chelsea) with a boyfriend (Chris) who is in the know regarding Chelsea’s current career choice. They both play their roles perfectly as good looking dullards with little in common — except achieving their own personal objectives. World’s collide as emotions enter the scene.

Chelsea meets a guy (Mr. Big) on a date (of course, a professional date) for whom she develops feelings. He actually listened to this surfeited slut, showed some feelings and asked a few key questions of interest. All boyfriends, husbands, or any guy that wants to get laid — read the previous sentence again. And yes, Abzug knows how to use his Thesaurus function in Microsoft Word.

The hunter becomes the hunted. The customer wants to take her away to his home out of town for the weekend.

Chelsea decides to go and let her boyfriend (Chris) in on the plans, sans the obvious details of the trip. Listen up boys — when your hooker girlfriend leaves town for the weekend she might be doing more than Kegel exercises on said trip.

Chelsea tells Chris that this Mr. Big is “different” because he matches up to some bullshit numerology crap — which she allows to be her guiding light in decisions.

An Algonquin roundtable, this is not.

Of course, Chris isn’t 100% jaded to the world yet, so he doesn’t want her to go.

Ok, let me get this right, your girlfriend has your approval to disappear in order to assist rich guys living out their fantasy of the week, but you put your foot down for the weekend road trip? Chris, you’re being a pussy! Suck it up!! Your girlfriend is a fucking hooker. Order some room service.

Chelsea makes the trip and awaits the arrival of Mr. Big outside his second home. Big calls — he can’t make the trip due to some epiphany he has about his kids and the reality of doing a hooker. Hey, Big, kids don’t understand why daddy needs a hooker when he has a wife. Shut your big yapper!!

Chelsea’s world spins out of control with some weird ass emotional crap that I couldn’t figure out. What is this liquid discharge coming from her eyes? Must be allergies.

The flick ends with Chelsea visiting a Jewish diamond dealer whose idea of good sex is to hold Chelsea closely with his clothes on, moans and eventually releases. I vaguely remember a middle aged priest doing this to me when I was in 5th grade.

The beauty of this movie is simple: unknown actors keeping it real (unless you’re living under an internet rock and don’t know about Sasha). My only hope for my future is that I have the cash to buy a whore like Chelsea — not only when I want sex, but also when I want to talk to a plank of wood.

There is no real sex in this movie, but is loaded with visual teasing, which is ok with me because I have seen Sasha full tilt in a few personal favorites... No Swallowing Allowed, Grand Theft Anal, and Sasha’s tribute to racial harmony called White Chicks Getting Black Balled.

I had a Dream…

I think all the guys who came to the theater alone, (which, amazingly enough was the entire audience) would agree; we hope Sasha continues in mainstream and our other favorite stream.

THE HANGOVER - Aka…A day in the life of Old Dan Cedar

So sue me, I actually liked this movie.

So sue me, I took along a 9 year old and two 13 year olds to watch this flick thinking it was PG-13.

So sue me, I checked out the teenage female talent that was in the theater.

So sue me — the last time I checked — I am not a pedophile unless there is a conviction that isn’t sealed by court order, but I digress…

For the literate movie historians that peruse our website — both of you may draw some parallels to the great Cristopher Nolan mystery, Memento…

But the rest of you illiterate fucks — just pay your 8 bucks and pop a couple Vicodin that you stole out of your mother’s medicine cabinet while she was at church praying for your dumb ass to get a job.

You couldn’t come up with a more contrived, overused plot, but surprise, it actually works.

The reason it works is that it doesn’t preach, doesn’t get mushy, and the cheap laughs are nonstop. This should help fill the much belated void of the Jim Carrey backlash.

So, I bought the 16 year old a bag of popcorn.

Now, I suppose there will be a law against that — next week.
I gave her some Oxycontin to help her enjoy the movie.

So sue me, I saved three for myself. Call me “selfish”. But, I digress…

You know this movie is going to be good when Doug (Justin Bartha,) Phil (Bradley Cooper,) and Alan (Zach Galifianakis) pull up to their buddy Stu’s (Ed Helms) house and scream at the top of their lungs, “Paging Dr. Faggot, Paging Dr. Faggot!” And in typical pussy whipped fashion (Ala Old Dan Cedar) Stu lies to his Cuntasaurus Emasculatus girlfriend about their all-boy plans in Las Vegas for the bachelor party.

The casting of the pitchfork-wielding-mob worthy Zach Galifianakis was genius. He’s like a splinter hidden in your underwear — annoying as hell, but always keeps you jumping. But, that is what happens when you carry around a cord of wood in your pants like King Hippo.

Anyhow, the movie opens with a hotel rooftop toast to Doug. But, unbeknownst to the three buddies, Alan has spiked the drinks with “roofies.” For those of you that haven’t seen the comic underpinnings of a good date-rape gag — it’s your lucky day.

Good thing Alan’s identical twin, Dan Cedar, wasn’t the one spiking the drinks… everyone would have gotten Mexican Viagra.

Hilarity ensues as a clusterfuck scavenger hunt has everyone waking up the next morning in a trashed hotel suite in the company of a tiger in the bathroom, a newborn baby in the closet, Stu -with a missing tooth, Alan — pantless, and a chicken clucking around the living room. The only problem is that Doug (the groom) is missing and he’s supposed to be headed back home for his wedding.

The rest of the movie involves the guys frantically retracing their steps in order to find Doug. Every Vegas cliché is visited, including several casinos, a drive through wedding chapel, a stripper’s apartment, a police station, a hospital emergency room, Mike Tyson’s mansion (sans the dead daughter), the Las Vegas desert and Old Dan Cedar’s gay escort service. Thankfully, the Elvis impersonators were kept to a minimum — which kept my wood at bay.

An added bonus was Alan doing his best Raymond Babbitt impersonation. A role younger people may not recognize, but should be readily recalled by idiot savants such as Dan Cedar.

The movie stands out by maintaining that serious edge of Doug’s disappearance and the subsequent lowlifes that the guys encounter while trying to find him and at the same time hitting you with nonstop laughs.

Oh, yeah — and for you heteros out there — Heather Graham drops by.
Note to Ryan O’Neal: You have done enough!! Stay away from her anus!!

After some reflection, I actually don’t feel this movie is just another day in the life of Old Dan Cedar. If it was, the chicken in the hotel room would have been dead after Dan reamed it in his OxyContin mixed with Mexican Viagra — induced stupor and anally bled it to death.

Since I have a little extra space in this column — you cheap, lazy fucks should buy some merchandise in our store, so that I don’t have even more of my measly stipend reduced to help fund this ridiculously futile and infantile website another four weeks.

Feel free to charge it to your mom’s credit card.

THE WRESTLER - Aka… Yes, They Are Real and They’re Spectacular!!

Your incandescent scribe had an immediate attachment to Mickey Rourke’s character, Randy “The Ram” Robinson.

No, not because I am a washed-up has-been, that constantly fantasizes about giving Marisa Tomei some much-needed wood instead of the ram jam. No, if you must know -Old Dan Cedar was born, “Robin”. If any of you homos make fun of me because of that – I’ll kill ya!!

It’s “OLD DAN”, to all of you Pervs that just want an old, broken down piece of meat!!

You can’t have it.

But I guess that all of YOU voted for “Robin” Wright’s future ex-husband for Peacenik of The Year. I hope you can live with yourselves when your uncle marries his 13 year old nephew at the end of YOUR president’s term in office.

When I first heard about the idea for this movie – I thought -who would be stupid enough to subsidize this pitch?

Here is something that you won’t hear Old Dan Cedar say very often….” I was wrong”.

Director Darren Aronofsky’s and writer Rob Siegel’s work of art takes us into the independent pro wrestling world - and underworld of Randy “The Ram” Robinson -some twenty years post heyday. With Randy trying to hold on to what he loves – namely the adulation, the spotlight and himself.

The Ram has been a selfish bastard his entire life and is a man jaded by life. Randy is good with that – because he gives as much grief to life - as life gives back to him. He is a man, alone. After he has a heart attack – we sense his loneliness as a taxi brings him back to his trailer home.

In watching his comeback – we feel that he wants to be Rocky. But there is no music. No Trumpets. No dancing on the steps overlooking Philadelphia. There is just Randy. Alone.

Just like Old Dan. Another thing that Randy and Old Dan have in common is that we both wear hearing aids, have problems with beer, pills and cigs. We both need a manicure. We forget stuff. We’re not as pretty as we used to be, and we shave our pit hairs, unlike you and your common-law wife driving in your Toyota Prius heading to “visit” your “Lifestyle” buddies in the piney woods of east Texas. But I digress.

There is an old saying that I heard once, “Athletes are the only human beings that we ask to accept death twice.” The point being, that athletes die when their careers end before their actual death. Old Dan Cedar thinks that is poetic license – otherwise known as bullshit!!

All bullshit aside - Any man that has had his old lady, Layla, kick the rug out from under him and flushes his Oxycontin down the toilet - when he is passed out in the corner of his 44th floor apartment – and his 4 year old son does a half gainer with a double twist to his untimely death…and though this tragedy leads to a top 40 hit…. All of the sudden – all of the money in the world earned from said hit - can’t replace an insolent child that we could easily replace in roughly nine months. Again, I digress.

In The Wrestler - we get the idea that the fans are idiots, the wrestling is fake, and Randy is a jackass. But the movie doesn’t take a judgmental approach to any of these realities.

They are just that – a given - the canvas upon which this masterpiece is painted.

Speaking of things of beauty – the great Marisa Tomei is cast as a stripper with a heart of gold. Her character, Cassidy, is also fighting padre time. And YES, She is more than a just a halcyon actuated image that you use for your endorphin induced fist fest.

Cassidy moves wobbledly between the fake worlds of stripping and wrestling to the real world of raising a child, discovering love and coping with the fact that the hip-hop generation doesn’t appreciate the greatness of Warrant.

One of the best scenes of the movie is when Cassidy and The Ram are sitting in a bar – having a beer, when Ratt’s Round and Round comes on over the Bose. The exchange between the two leads is, as MasterCard says, “priceless” - especially the rant about Curt Cobain being a pussy and the ‘80s being the best music of all times.

Where a movie is truly defined – the Money Shot - is the final scene.

As we are watching the ending play out there are several possibilities. One being - the determination that this is a true LOVE story between the boy and girl- and not truly about the sport (e.g. the Rocky ending). Another is - the win like a champion (e.g. the Hoosiers ending). And finally, the perfect ending – cold, hard reality - regardless of the fact that we don’t want to stop believing (e. g. the Soprano’s ending). Only this time, the film makers do what is right; they give it an extra 8 seconds to play out.

Sopranos Rant!! – The problem in the Sopranos final episode is that the Boys at HBO thought it would be cute to end the whack fest with a little mystery and have everyone be unsatisfied. It is called poetry, right? No. It is what is known as premature edit-ulation!!

The man whose love for himself, the spotlight and the crowd overcomes his love for anyone else.

Kind of reminds Old Dan Cedar of himself. All of the other bullshit is just window dressing.

My final wish in life would be to have one of the last synapses in my brain fire off, just before squeezing off one final log in my own private republican cabin, remembering one previous, true, lust-infested moment with the very real and the very spectacular - Marisa Tomei.

UP!! - Aka…HOW TO FIND YOURSELF WHEN YOU LOSE YOURSELF TRYING TO FIND YOURSELF!!

So, it’s easier to say what I liked about this movie rather than what I didn’t like because it is soooo good. It is not what every other half-ass kids’ movie is trying to be…namely, there are no fart jokes and no four letter words.

Something this here website should endeavor to be more like.

I know it goes against every instinct that Hollywood strives for, so I applaud the makers. It took a great deal of gonads to follow this story to fruition. I could almost hear some dumb-ass executive trying to dumb this movie down.
Sorry, you Fucking Fuckwad!!

And I know Ed Asner was trying to exert any of his godforsaken influence throughout the project and was only dismissed because he was a hapless old man actor.

The story follows a boy to the age of 78. Rather quickly, we are brought up to speed on his existence — from first love to the meanderings that accompany most any man through life that happens to fall in love and not have his heart ripped out by some heartless, cheating bitch — until he is staring death in the face.

He meets some (yes, heartfelt) characters including a little boy scout, a bird and a dog.

And, Yes, Old Dan Cedar cried at this movie, you callous, Fucking Fucks!!

It’s the classic story of a quest.

This pursuit is to reincarnate a life-long dream to explore — not only for the old man, but for the memory of his newly deceased wife.

He needs to find a reason for life — now.

Along the way, we find a Howard Hughes-like explorer with a dark side — and some of his funnily voiced canines. A quest is only a quest when it’s kept in perspective, right?

And, of course, Mary Tyler-Moore’s boss finds HIS perspective. Unlike Old Dan Cedar who continues to root around, writing for this minimally redemptive website.

This is just an old man trying to hold on to life — the way it used to be. Where life is lived by earnest and honest children who just want to love and be loved.

I wonder why I liked this movie so much?

And there is more…

There are no politically correct, earth-conscious messages.

No product placement ads.

No free-range chicken underpinnings.

No Bono.

No rap songs.

No pro-sushi references.

Xanadu!!

Let’s see if they can keep from making another one and fucking this UP!!

ZACK AND MIRI MAKE A PORNO - Aka…Abzug pulls a Pee Wee Herman at the local Cineplex

Zack and Miri are platonic best friends who are struggling to make it financially. They go to their 10 year high school reunion which is such a beautiful, ”painful” event in which Zack shows true hatred of his past high school classmates. From that point onward, I had great respect for this character. That’s right. Abzug was a high school loser that never made it with a lady. Or, a guy for that matter. But I digress.

The beauty of Zack (as in every Seth Rogan role) is that he has the greatest “don’t give a fuck” attitude ever seen on screen. While at the reunion, Zack meets the guy who comes (literally and sexually) with the former big stud high school QB. A great diatribe ensues when he tells Zack that he is an actor in movies with an “all male cast”. Zack inquires “like Glengary Glen Ross?” The actor responds with “no like Glen and Gary suck Ross’ cock. Zack’s beautiful response …”is that like a sequel?” And you are correct sir, Abuzug has no idea what the word “diatribe” actually means.

So Zack and Miri are down on their luck trying to pay the bills and make ends meet. A humorous suggestion by Miri is that this is the financial situation that makes people resort to desperate measures “like making porno” - starts the wheels turning in Zack’s head.

The two agree to the movie and the turn-on starts for me since one of my favorite genres of porno is the amateur section - real people having real sex. NOT Anime Sex – you overly literal putrid piece of post-pubescent pap. FYI – not every real person looks like they were conceived from hallowed loins of Jon Voigt.

Conversation ensues and casting begins - where we find my personal early porno fantasy girl “Tracy Lords” who displays a little hidden secret talent involving her genitalia blowing bubbles. If this would have been revealed at the time when she was 17 and giving group blow jobs, I probably would have been even a bigger fan. Be warned, Lords does not have regular sex during this movie, but her clit is bigger than Abzug’s cock.

If that doesn’t make you put this gem in your Netflix queue – time to get a testosterone patch, some gay porn and move on, but be forewarned of the worst nightmare for an amateur anal porn cameraman - In the right place but at the wrong time.

As Zack and Miri continue on the production, their big sex scene approaches. Feelings start to develop and worlds collide. The battle of love vs.“how can I spunk on your face while being filmed?” begins.

They psych themselves into the moment and the film crew is enthralled by their display of making love vs. fucking. No money shot - which is the only bad thing about this movie.

Zack and Miri are falling in love. They can’t stand the thought of the other having sex with others which interferes with production – since of course – this is kind of the point – of porn.

So be careful, connoisseurs of sexual and excretory organs, this movie proves that once you go down the road of amateur porn, either leave your feelings behind the camera with a fluffboy or maintain the fantasy in front of your computer with a handful of petroleum by-product and the most powerful anti-viral program that you can get your hands on.

(500) DAYS OF SUMMER - Aka… (700) Days in Detroit

Your humble reviewer Old Dan Cedar took my female compadre, Bibs Detroit, to this movie, on Day 699 of our relationship.

No, I am not shoveling shit at you!!

Now, let Old Dan Cedar set the scene for you. I truly HATE going to art house theaters. Which, of course, is the only place (500) Days of Summer is playing at the moment. That will soon change due to the sheer greatness of this movie -much as happened last year with Slumdog Millionaire.

But, back to the previous digression from which I first deviated.
These neo-bohemian hangouts — tend to bring out the ‘coolest’ of the cool.
You know the types — these leftist elitists are as full of ‘ideas’ as of themselves.

I go to take a rectal whiz before the flick started. I make eye contact with NO ONE along the way. Besides our taste in movies — I have NOTHING in common with these folk. I am a closed-minded, jaded old, Libertarian bastard.
These fucks don’t even know what a Libertarian is.

Maybe, I shouldn’t be so quick to judge… and then, as I am pounding the porcelain with my anal piercing poo — I literally hear a conversation between two middle-aged, neo-hippie doofuses about how they can’t wait for an upcoming conference that Sonia Sotomayor will be attending.

Thank god I had the rhea. Quickly I finished my anal leakage, wiped while muttering to myself, “Yeah, the next time I get to meet a liberal, fat, fucking Supreme Court nominee — I think I will crow about it in the most stench-filled
6 X 8 foot area of a goddamned uptown movie theatre.”

One final wipe and quick peek to make sure than none of my butt juice has congregated on my Fruit of the Loom tighty whiteys.

Clear here.

The “Lips of the Left” had moved their conversation elsewhere. I am good to go.

Quickly I plan my escape back into the dimly lit theater and what, to my wondering ears, should I hear? Out in the lobby these two brain dead dipshits are still flapping their pie-holes. Of course, they are ordering a couple of cappuccinos at the bean bar — incessantly babbling on about the broken healthcare system….blah, blah, blah.

Let that be a lesson to you kids. There IS a reason for prejudging people.
It saves one the painstaking task of evaluating people one at a time.
Get me back to my supple, velvety, red, butt-pillow — and fast…

Although this is a big house — Seats are filling up.

Quickly I locate my little lady friend and notice that we have new neighbors.
Oh, Great!! Mr. and Mrs. Jupiter Cranium have touched down right in front of us.

Should we move?

Never mind — too late.
Movie is starting.
So — Take this review for what it is worth.
I could only see 1/3 of the screen.

I will take my revenge on you later, Mr. Large and Miss Marge.

(500) Days of Summer follows two twenty-somethings — Summer Finn (Zooey Deschanel) and Tom Levin (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) through the ups and downs of their — oddly enough – 500 day relationship.

Summer and Tom, we learn, have had very few relationships and none they would consider successful. Thus begins the inglorious throw-down that is the life of the non asexual.
We all know it’s hard.
In fact, this is why reclusive hermits like King Hippo become asexual.

Summer, the female love interest is out of the ordinary, flirtatious and vexing.
I quickly felt an affinity for her — being that she is a glass, half-empty kind of gal, much like Old Dan Cedar, yet we both cry at movies. She is cute, but not drop-dead. Her teeth are crooked and the hair on the back of her neck isn’t perfectly coifed.

Oh, and another little plus - she is not Meg Ryan, Jennifer Aniston, Julia Roberts or Sandra Fucking Bullock.

Tom, the boy infatuate, is a cock-eyed optimist that hasn’t let life beat him into complete submission, much like the lady that I am currently fornicating with, the previously referenced, Ms. Detroit.

Oh, and Bonus!! He is not played by Matthew McConaughey, Ben Stiller, or Ryan Fucking Reynolds.

Thanks for selling out and not fucking the greatness of this movie up with your presence, Assholes.

I won’t ruin the movie by spoiling anything for you, but Tom’s younger sister played by Chloe Moretz serves as his moral compass and, without being too cutesy, helps him come to grips with the reality of his relationship with Summer.

There are some hilarious moments, though. As I was slurping on my 32 ounce Big Red – one of those came about and I hurled forth a semi-guzzled spit-take that gave Mr. Jupiter Head a red eye similar to the circulating storm first observed by Galileo more than 400 years ago.

“Sorry about that sir. Here’s a beach towel!!

Maybe, I have watched too many WWII movies. But, it strikes me that relationships are a whole lot like war.

If they are successful – you look back on them with the grinning, whimsical, glorious days of youth. With snapshots in your mind of battles fought, victories won and losses overcome - together.

If they fail – you look back on the little things that began to go wrong early on, and blame yourself for not having seen those things sooner. And even though it jades you to future relationships, somewhere in the back of your mind, even though feelings become calloused and leathery….

When I meet a new lady, I ask myself, “What would Patton have to say about this situation?” Hmmm…

Patton: “Thirty years from now, when you're sitting around your fireside with your grandson on your knee and he asks you, "What did you do in the great World War II," you won't have to say, "Well... I shoveled shit in Louisiana.”

Now, I never fought in WWII and actually, I have never shoveled shit or anything else in Louisiana, but she’s cute, smart and funny as shit, ahhhh, what the hell!!

Such is the overarching tale of Tom and Summer - journeying through the highs and lows of young love.
Is it fate?
Is there such a thing as true love?
And of course - Timing is everything.

So, as I write this review on the 700th day of entering the city limits.

I am not perfect, but these things I can promise.

I won’t drag you across east Texas, robbing banks and killing folks, like Bonnie and Clyde.
I won’t become a media mogul, run for governor and become a reclusive asshole like Citizen Kane, and then have a movie made using my nickname for your love tunnel as a sled that I used to ride when I was an innocent, young boy.

And I won’t slap you across the face and tell you that I don’t want any pussies in MY army - like General George Patton did.

With those taken as my most sincere promises, I ask, quite humbly and in all sincerity, Bibs Detroit, will you marry me?

P.S. I am happy to report that Bibs accepted my proposal.

If this all ends in a hail of gunfire, you can say, "Well, Old Dan, I guess you had it comin'. And I will say in that crusty old William Munny way, "We all got it comin' kid."

Then I will haunt your cold hearted ass, and do my best to speak with whatever deity that I am sure as hell going to run into down under. I will whisper in his ear to make sure that you live to be 103 years old, with Alzheimers, Parkinson's and ALS — surrounded by the ownly friend that is always by your side. Your own pool of urine.

As the great Dalai Lama enthusiast Richard Gere said, "It's called Karma, Boy George"!!

I am the luckiest son of a bitch that ever walked the face of the earth. I have two great sons, and soon to be stepdaughter. I write for the absolute worst website in the world and I am marrying a beautiful, funny, scientist.

Now back to my rickety old self. We don't want any fucking presents. This includes money, drugs or hugs!! If you want to come hang out with us, that is cool!! The date is February 13, 2010. There will be a band in the driveway trying to ward off ugly people. If it hasn't been outlawed by then, maybe we can share a peach cigar! If you're REAL lucky, I might just get on stage, pass out some hankies and belt out a little tune by Bette Midler.

Thanks for the best wishes.
ODC

A SERIOUS MAN - AKA… Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About a Jew...and Really Didn't Give a Rat's Ass About

I have a confession to make: I actually wanted to see The Road, but the liberal skirt I was with - played the women's lib card and I had to give in.

I don't get it. If women are "equal" to men and want to have an equal say in things then why did I end up measuring, drilling, and hanging an 80 pound decorative mirror on her living room wall while she yakked it up with some other dude on the phone?

WTF?!!

Oh, yeah…I am King Hippo and the chances of me getting laid are only slightly better than disgraced, NBA referee Tim Donaghy getting out of prison, publishing a book about how corrupt the NBA really is, and getting to whine about how sorry we should feel for him on 60 Minutes.

Oh, my bad – life is stranger than fiction!!

So….you’d like that mirror on the other wall? Sure, Ms. Steinem!!

Anyway…It was no big deal - most movies by the Coen Brothers are brilliant and this dark comedy is no exception. Larry Gopnik (Michael Stuhlbarg) is a hapless physics professor living in a Midwestern Jewish “enclave” (in WWII they were called ghettos) whose life suddenly seems to be careening off a cliff.

More empathetic – I could not be.

Never heard of Michael Stuhlbarg? Nor had I – but hear me now and believe me when you’re watching The Weinstein Golden Statue Party For Best Movies of 2009. This guy can act his dirty, little Jewish ass off!!

At work, Larry is being bribed/threatened by a Korean exchange student who failed his midterm exam. This seems to be the first tell-tale sign that this is pure fiction – being that I have never personally witnessed ANY Asian fail ANY exam.
Mid-term, or not…

Larry is being considered for tenure, but the committee has been receiving anonymous letters attesting to his immoral character.

I know what you’re thinking…He’s a Jew, right? I mean, if MY Messiah and Savior wasn’t a Jew – I would really have a problem with these people.

At home, his wife is leaving him for Sy Abelman (Fred Melamed); his children are out of control; his in-the-closet, unemployed, deadbeat brother is constantly in trouble with the law; and his next door neighbors are either trying to seduce him or drive him crazy.

So Larry does what any good Jew would do – consult with his local rabbi.

Now, I know what you racist, rednecks are thinking, but don’t forget about the Jesus person.

I tell you this – he was one good Jew and one bad Rabbi. During the course of the movie, Larry consults with each of the three rabbis at his temple and the vignettes are hilarious. Makes me want to convert to Judaism just for the entertainment value – but I figured that Jerry Seinfeld would probably sue me.

As Larry falls deeper and deeper into depression, he realizes that there are people much worse off than he is. At this epiphany, his life suddenly seems to be taking a turn for the better. Then the shit hits the fan...such is the life of The Dirty Jew.

Consider this payback for all of the Leni Riefenstahl propaganda from the 1920's and 30's you Nazi loving bastards.

The story closes abruptly as Larry gets a call from his doctor who wants a face to face to discuss his x-ray results, and as his son watches a tornado approaching the school yard.

I know there are those of you out there who don't care for the No Country For Old Men and/or There Will Be Blood endings. To you, I suggest joining Old Dan Cedar on the couch watching A-Team reruns or Univision. This is suitable fare for your functionally retarded mentality.

To the rest of you who passed the TAKS test, or some-such assessment to gain your GED - the moral of this story is that life sucks and then you die.

Like I haven’t figured that shit out already.

Yeah, honey, I will be right there…I am just taking some Oxycontin because, you know, the mirror is a little heavy and I pulled something in my back.

I know - it’s still crooked.

Such is the life of The Dirty In-Bred Hawaiian!

ANGELS AND DEMONS - Aka… Like Indiana Jones except it sucks!!

Ya know — it used to be that a Ron Howard flick was guaranteed to at least be entertaining, and more often than not, a very good film... Which leaves me in bewilderment that the director of Frost/Nixon pinched this piping hot loaf of rectum remnants onto the unsuspecting public.

Most fans of the The Davinci Code would naturally be intrigued by this "prequel," also written by Dan Brown, but if they were expecting some kind of intellectual stimulation, they'd be better off seeing Mall Cop.

In typical liberal Hollywood fashion, some non-descript lifelong academic atheist "saves" the day with his singularly brilliant intellect that goes unmatched by a particle physicist, the head of Vatican security, and the head of the Swiss Guard.

Tom Hank's character also manages a typical leftist swipe "relevant" to current events when he states that the violence going on at the Vatican is a result of the Catholic Church's persecution of the "Illuminati" CENTURIES ago. Ergo, the scumbag militant Muslims of today wouldn't bother us if we didn't "persecute" them.

For those of you that don’t have the time or inclination to read 1000 pages of Dan Brown’s overly-imaginative meanderings, access to a Wikipedia or a fucking library — many conspiracy theorists believe the Illuminati are the masterminds behind events that will lead to the establishment of a New World Order.

Hmmm, let's analyze this... do any of you illiterate bastards know of anyone today still mad at the Romans for conquering their ancestors? How about the Persians? The Vikings? Oh, how about the Huns?

Maybe if Hollywood would stick to movie making and ditch their leftist proselytizing every chance they get — we might have a better choice of thoughtful, intriguing movies — rather than putting out another whine tasting about the persecution of Jews in World War II, some new super heroes that have a deep, dark side or another Will Ferrell brain-numbing yuk fest.

My idiotic editor has me under contract to do these reviews — so, I have to go.

But, YOU — YOU have no excuse. Other than you have the mental capabilities of the typical 46 year-old Mongolian love child that works as the front cashier at my local Subway. I have a word for your little conspiracy club sandwich — The ILLiITERATI !!

Basically this movie is just another generic cat and mouse chase but in the setting of the Vatican.

Yipee Ki Yay.

And guess what? Without giving the ending away, I figured out who the "brains" of the operation was before it was revealed — No Problemo. But I am a lot smarter than you. So — Best of Luck, Mongo!!

Don't waste your money on this stinker. For the life of me I can’t understand why it was shown in the theater with THREE times the seating capacity as that of Star Trek.

Typical Hollywood mentality. Just like the federal government. Here is an idea for you Mr. President. If you started taxing the morons attending the local Cineplex de suburbia — Maybe we could all have free health care!!

Hey Opie Cunningham — I've got a coupon for you from "Hair Club for Men." Maybe a rug will curtail the evaporating grey matter, since the omnipresent hat is most definitely NOT stemming the brainal leakage.

BRUNO - Aka...Honestly, Honey...That IS fully erect!!

Alan Funt.

Don’t know who that is? It is Bruno’s fadder…you Myopic, Infantile, Generation Sushi, Fucking Fuck!!

I went into this movie passionate about three things:

My love of accounting.

My love of Fergie Jenkins.

And My love of any brunette woman without the herp or the aid.
But, as happened to ‘Brad’ in The Rocky Horror Picture Show…something wicked is overtaking me...

I came out of this movie roaming the streets of my fair city –Garmin fired up -looking to satisfy my latent homosexual love laments from junior high school that had resurfaced in less than two hours. And if it takes an extra $30 to make it happen….well, that is just fine by me.

Is that wrong?

Maybe, but prevailing American public opinion is that – if you believe anything outrageous – be prepared to be the butt of the joke – because Abzug and Mr. Cohen are both smarter than the rest of you – and WE will decide when and where to cross the line. And WE’LL let you know if there even IS a fucking line.

In Bruno, as in Borat, Sasha Baron Cohen, plays another foreigner on a mission in the USA. This time, it is Bruno, the uber-host of an Austrian show called Funkytime.- an “in your face - gay fashionista” show.

If subtlety is your thing, just keep on driving. Oh, and if you are looking for a story arc…do the same. This is a movie in name only. It is more like an extended SNL skit based solely around homo-erotic absurdities.

Everything is copasetic until Bruno’s all-velcro runway outfit catches everything it touches and faux irritated-hilarity ensues. Bruno is banned from the fashion reporting industry and kicked off of Funkytime.

Bruno Gehard’s (gay-hard) quest – as with most other Americans that would actually spend money to watch this movie - is to become a megastar in the USA, and this is when the fun (and the beauty) of this movie begins to continue.

Bruno takes these “unassuming” morons and parades them for our enjoyment – allowing us to flex our moral and intellectual superiority.

I think Mr. Gehard is one of the hottest “19” year olds I have ever seen. His hot ass, nice uber-cock and, er… I mean uh, ...back to the movie review.

As Bruno is attempting to become an American celebrity, he is willing to do anything including rectal bleaching. The answer to the age old question – untold even in the annals of Wikipedia; how do porn stars keep their exit hole, oh, so sweet and clean?

Let’s just say that we are all smarter than ANY of these people and we should thank Yahweh – The Messiah of The Media –Yes, the god of the Jews - that we have a brilliant satirizer to bring this diminutive factoid to the surface.

After all - this is what we brilliant satirizers do.

Bruno also takes delivery of an “African American” baby via cardboard box, goes on a Springer type talk show and announces that he has named the baby O.J.

I personally think it would have been funnier had they taped his wee little hands to the steering wheel of a mini-Ford Bronco and remotely driven him off a cliff. But who is Abzug to give suggestions to the genius of Mr. Cohen.

Ok, this is a constant practical joke on a grand scale. Bruno plays everyone for their weakness (or strength rather) including a gay converter that is driven by, you guessed it, religion.

You can’t get any better confrontation than this, real wrath of god stuff. Religion truly equals brainwashing on an incredibly ostentatious scale and these idiots prove it.

Yes, Abzug is an atheist. Which makes me – SURPRISE – a lot smarter than you.

This movie demonstrates that people accept others - to a point.

I love my hetero-lifemates. But if Old Dan Cedar or King Hippo informs me that they play for the other team, we might make sweet passionate love once - but that will be the end of that.

You can accidentally stumble upon the Batcave by happenstance, but there is no finding your way back.

But, wait. I have my GPS on...

I will be Burt Ward if you will be Adam West.

Bruno is one fucking funny movie that never lets up on making me laugh, ponder and respect the over the top homo.

Now, I must go!!

My GPS says that I should take a right at the next red light.

Get ready boys!!

Abuzug just filled his 30 day supply of Cialis and just got paid!!

HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE - Aka…Capitalist Spells against America’s Newest Prince

Let me say first that I was forced into seeing this movie. Showing in my town - there were no subtitled true works le art which, combined with the superior European intellect - allows a movie to be read while watched - as the great Ingmar Bergman intended them to be.

I was forced to review this Potter-head Fest by this wholly-owned Imperialist American website. While disdainfully marching into this sardine-ly-packed

30-plex - I was nauseous after following the herd of your distended, bulbous tummies into the over-ample, Oprah Winfrey-Assed-Seats packed with your McDonald’s-Super-Sized Imperialist buttocks’.

Almost as appalling is that this movie was adapted from a book by an English woman!!

Nique ta mere!

But even with this requisite – I only offer Le Best to my review and to my public.

It is my nation’s tradition - in time of peace. I have no choice.

So, prior to this movie –

I planned appropriately because I was made aware of the length.

Over 2 and half hours.

To prepare: I bought 6 packs of Nicorette gum. In France we are given our right to smoke and I generally go through 3 packs of the Lucky Strike - in a movie of this length.

I also DVRed the 14 hours of Le Tour de France of which I was willing to miss the live coverage - for my public.

I fasted - No eating or drinking for 12 hours prior.

I had no void – renally or rectally, throughout.

This – so I may give out the best review possible.

Vive’ La France!!

Vive’ Pepe La Petitte!!

But, digress I do…but now back to la review de film. I must admit your American CGI has come a long way since le Tron movie in 1982.

Monopolizing in a field has its benefits - Oui, Monsier Gates?

But, again, digress I do…

In the cine….we follow the tribulations of Harry (the Grand Wizard), Hermione (the Young-Bun temptress) and the Ron Weasley (with the Jerry Lewis-akin comedic genius) as they fight off ‘the evil’.

And yes, that evil to which they refer is The Half-Blood Prince;

A not so vaguely guised reference to le Majestic Mulatto - Barack Obama.

The Warner Brothers studio has crafted this movie to scare up the ugly right-winged skin headed Ku Klux Klanners on the shores of your fatherland. And they bring to light ‘the scary cinematic’ images that show multiple inter-racial, quasi-copulating teenaged couples. Simple scare tactics.

Backwards-ass Americanistas.

References to “The Dark Lord” abound, with his real name being “Tom Riddle”.

Again, a not so veiled reference to what the Fox news would have you believe is the “Uncle” that is currently occupying the American White House.

Ah haaa haaa!!

Not so quick, Monsier Karl Rove. Pepe’ sees through your Foxxie mind-like prism with which you are trying to hypnotize the American public.

I was so enthralled with the youthful buns of Hermione that the story missed me a bit.

Something about - Good vs. Evil or some such.

Surmising - This movie is simply a regurgitated Star Wars franchise.

For those of you scoring at home:

Harry Potter = Luke Skywalker

Ron Weasley** = Han Solo

** Sans the ugly American attitude

Hermione ** = Princess Leah

** Sans the gold lame’ bikini and chain

Voldemort = Darth Vader

Dumbledore = Yoda

Snape = Lando Calrissian

And I distinguish that the Brother’s Warner have much hocus-pocus about nothing. The true story is that they simply don’t want to be financially taxed for the inalienable right of every American - the universal health coverage that the rest of the world has seen to be the light.

I will just say this – the next time your Rave Reviewer gets a lightning bold scar on MY forehead- you can damn well bet that Pepe La Petitte is going to expect it to be repaired (for free) by some overly-worked, state-employed physician.

I WILL NOT go through MY WHOLE LIFE casting spells or drumming up money from the pittance I receive from this incompetently run website to pay for my God-Given right to plastic surgery!!

Thinly veiled shots at Monsieur Potter are really meant to bring disillusionment to the great La President de Obama.

Examples:

“He is exceptionally ordinary!!”

“We must be taught to be strong in these troubled times!!”

“You must obey every command without question.”

“Do as I say- Trust Me.”

“He belongs to the Dark Lord.”

“We must drink the ‘Liquid Lotion’.” e.g. Kool Aid

You are as blind as the George Will if you can’t see the obvious inferences.

In the final scene of this movie “the good guys” are holding their wands skyward.

The true meaning of this movie can’t be more clear!!

“Hold Up Your Wands – America’s Grand Wizards!!

Cast Out The Half-Blood Prince!!”

Fin

KNOWING - Aka...Blowing

Synopsis - Aaah, the age old question of Intelligent Design vs. Matter-Created-From-Non-Matter-And-Random-Beneficial-Mutations-Over-The-Millenia-Creating-A-Being-As-Intelligent-As-Man. Ok, so maybe that is an age old statement. For those of you with limited intellectual capacity (i.e. liberals, movie reviewers, cat lovers) it's about the same odds as an individual winning the lottery fifty times in his life...without ever buying a lottery ticket.

The premise is interesting - a "chosen" child - decades ago, is possessed to scrawl a litany of numbers on a page of school paper which will be entombed in a time capsule only to be conveniently passed to the son of astronomy professor Nicolas Cage upon its retrieval. A fine case of spot-on casting if I have ever seen it.
Of course, Cage just happens to be pondering the existence of God because of the tragic loss of his wife when he discovers the time capsule page. Then, in one night, the guy from Valley Girl deciphers 90% of the meaning of the numbers.

During all of this, his son is being "visited" by stealth beings that all sport an 80's Billy Idol look: leather jackets, skinny black jeans and all, sans the whiplash smile. Why not Elvis? He'd be the perfect "visitor" being that half of the dip shits in the world still think he's alive. So I'm scratching my head thinking, "why the page of prophecy numbers when Billy Idol's pedophile squad is just going to kidnap the kids they want, anyway?"

Anyway, Cage figures out the list of numbers are dates for tragic loss of life around the world, including some dates in the future, the last just a few days away. The date that I saw this homage to horse excrement was not on the list of dates in the movie. Since I lost over 2 hours of my life while watching this pathetic waste of celluloid – I knew the list was completely bogus.

Otherwise, I had bought into this ridiculous excuse for Sir Nicholas’ lead up to his next role in The Pious One - a remake of Gandhi. Off with the toupee! But I digress.

Because of his position in the astronomy field, Cage’s character, plotting to take over as the leader in the field with Stephen Hawking circling the drain - is savvy to knowledge of a potential solar flare from the sun. He puts 2 and 2 together and voila! The end of the world. And, as is de rigueur for all Nicolas Cage movies, it quickly devolves into a mindless action flick served up piping hot for the American Lemming.

Oh, for the days of movies that utilized Cage's "acting skills" to it's fullest...Honeymoon In Vegas (jackass)...Leaving Las Vegas (bumbling drunk)...

Here's a number for you 07172012 - the day Nicolas Cage's acting career is flushed down the shitter once and for all. Eat your heart out Tommy Tutone!!

King Hippo’s Best Movies of the Decade (2000-2009)


1.Lord of the Rings Trilogy - You fucking putzes can argue with me till hell freezes over but Peter Jackson's masterpiece will never be topped.

2.Memento - A bizarrely effective piece of storytelling only made better by the superlative acting of Guy Pearce.

3.The Wrestler - A beautiful story starring a very ugly man...and that hottie Marisa Tomei.

4.Monster - Another movie defined by an unbelievable acting performance...this time by South African import Charlize Theron.

5.Million Dollar Baby - Arguably Eastwood's best. I know you shills out there prefer Mystic River or The Unforgiven, but I'm right and you're wrong.

6.Gladiator - I can see your eyes rolling on this one but this is Ridley Scott's best.

7.Far From Heaven - Mesmerizing performances by Julianne Moore and Dennis Quaid. From Moore, it's expected. From Quaid, it's a head scratcher.

8.Sideways - Ok, I know it's a chick-flick. However, it's a very realistic film with oscar worthy performances by Paul Giamatti and Thomas Haden Church.

9.Ghost World - At first glance, just another teen angst movie. But delve deeper, grasshopper. Unbelievable performances by Steve Buscemi and Illeana Douglas.

10.Training Day - More eye rolling, I know... Just the best performance of Denzel's life you dumb fucks!

As you can see - my list is all encompassing with that of a pre-pubescent neophyte's outlook on society and the world as a whole. If you think you can do better. Try sending something in that doesn't get ripped apart by my brainforsaken editor. Oh, yeah, and try not to offend anyone, Asshole!

PARANORMAL ACTIVITY - AKA...Paranausea Activity

Ok, If I unwittingly sit down to watch another movie with the GODDAMN "LET'S MAKE THIS MOVIE MORE BELIEVABLE AND EDGY BY FILMING IT IN 'BLAIR WITCH PROJECT VISION'," I SWEAR THAT I WILL GO POSTAL!

WTF?!?!?!?

And let me assure you The King NEVER over-embellishes.

Another supposed "true story" to entice you idiots and ME - The Great King Hippo to spend our hard-earned, or in the case of our presently-revered welfare class, hard-scammed, money.

This is another "haunted house" story with the twist of having no story; just some douche bag’s shack-up boyfriend who is going to "crack the case" by setting up video cameras, using a Ouija board, and verbally challenging the spirits to come out so he can kick their asses.

*Eyes Rolling*

Doesn't everyone know a jackass like this?

Don't Answer. It's a rhetorical question, Asshole!!

A smart-assed, know-it-all tool who's delving in things he knows NOTHING about and thinks that he's just the badass who's going to solve something that trained experts, university professors, and people with decades of experience can't figure out.

Oh, shit, I just described President “No, let’s do the fucking surge, again. Yes the one that I thought was a shitty idea last year” Obama.

My bad!!

Anyway, a young couple set up quarters in San Diego, and as time drags on, and I do mean drags…weird phenomena start to occur in their small two story house.

No biggie, just some random creaks and farts to start.

Things start to progress however, and the couple contacts a university professor for some answers. Unfortunately for the couple, the professor is just a "medium". He doesn't have the knowledge or experience to get rid of the entity.

He also feels like it is an evil entity and quickly leaves the house with his tail between his legs - ala Dan Cedar when his wife cracks the whip.

We come to find out that the house is NOT haunted but the girlfriend IS haunted.

Not hard to believe for any guy that has ever been in a relationship outside of three weeks. I once went 19 Days...Close, but no cigar. Sucker!!

In fact she and her sister both experienced paranormal phenomena when they were children living in another town.

Note to future fiancées: Ask these important questions BEFORE handing over the ring –
1) Is your ex-boyfriend a psychotic lieutenant for the MS-13?
2) Have you ever had a previous boyfriend die of "mysterious" circumstances?
3) Have you ever "caught" an STD from a tractor seat?
4) Are you possessed by an evil spirit?

That about covers it – at least for the last four back-stabbing whores whose current occupation consists of fertilizing my “organic” garden out back of the trailer homestead.

But I digress. The milksop professor recommends his colleague who is more versed in the "getting rid of" department.

Of course, the couple decides against this – being that nothing has progressed to "concerning."

Whoops - big mistake.

Of course, things do start to escalate and by the time the couple tries to contact the colleague friend, they find out he's on an overseas sabbatical but, shucks, “you just missed him by a day”.

Your bad.

Even though the "phenomena" get progressively more violent, eerie, and numerous, I had a hard time focusing. I must have shifted my ass and legs in every possibly way across the breadth of three theater seats.

I only found a comfort zone when I was able to park my right leg over a comely lass's lap and her head in my crotch. And NO, I didn’t get her name, phone number or birth date.

The last 10 minutes of the movie is the money shot - figuratively and literally for one King Hippo.

If you rent this flick, feel free to come and go as you do the laundry, wash the dog, feed the kids, mow the lawn, or smoke some reefer in the back yard.

Assuming you don't know how to work the fast-forward on your DVD player - just get your ass back in for the last part. You'll get enough of the previous yawn and nausea-inducing camerawork and story to know what the hell is going on.
And…Listen, YOU Morley-Safer-Loving-Fuck.

Regardless of how much of the first 60 minutes of this movie you see - the end will scare the fuck out of you...and probably turn Dan Cedar into a woman looking for a place to lay his head.

RACHEL GETTING MARRIED - Aka...Rachel Getting “Mallied”!!!! As Long Duc Dong said in 16 Candles.

Don’t we all wish we could banish our Token Crazy Relative to Crazy Island? At least for one day? Especially on our wedding day? Unfortunately Rachel Buchman (Rosemarie Dewitt) can’t do that to her sister Kym (Anne Hathaway), the narcissistic, whiny, doe-eyed turdball who is the (supposed) real protagonist of this film. Kym is a layer cake of issues, with the responsibility of her brother’s death serving as the frosting on her osteoporotic, slumped shoulders. I say we pump this chick with some Boniva, and fast. And in the mean time, honey, stay out of the striped pajamas.

This film, directed by Jonathan Demme, allows us to realize that no matter how dysfunctional your family is - Rachel Buchman’s family of whackos – wins!!

Fuhget about it, Tony Soprano.

How can a guy relate to this movie? This is a tough one. But, here goes in a Hee Haw- Dallas Cowboys-Sopranos analogy. So, your name is Buck Owens and you are just trying to bag this hot, little number from the cornfield. She is the one in the hat, Minnie Pearl. All of the sudden your brother, Terrell, shows up and starts talking about how the best man, Tony, isn’t paying attention to him. Bada Bing!! Somebody get me a Saturday Night Special and let’s end this thing. Cue the Journey song….

But, since this movie was obviously aimed at the fairer sex - Let’s start with a little background about the Buchman Bunch. “Background” meaning they appear to be white, Connecticut, elitist liberal whackjobs. Very White Rachel is marrying Very Black Sidney, a funky ex-military musician. Thus – the title of the movie - Guess Who’s Coming To Get Married?

But….the difference in race between Rachel and Sidney is never emphasized. Not a word. Not a glance askew. Nothing. No big deal.

Oh, yeah, that’s right - We are now in Post-Racial America. It’s the plethora of bohemian artist and musician friends who’ve crashed at the Buchman home for the wedding that make the audience member go ummmyeahright.

But these kids from Fame serve well as a backdrop of familial love and understanding against the Buchman family unit, who are torn and twisted by Kym’s appearance and the ensuing drama it causes.

Kym, enjoying a temporary furlough from rehab for the wedding, unwittingly meets Sidney’s Best Man, Kieran, a recovering addict himself, at an AA meeting in town the day of her arrival. After screwing him like a $2 Tijuana Whore, he lets it slip that Rachel’s best friend Emma is the Maid of Honor. In a plot twist torn from the pages of All My Children - Kym feels slighted and confronts Rachel in front of Emma. Need a scorecard to chart this meandering estrogen-fest? Me too!!

It was at this point in the film that I really, really wanted to mow Kym down - with the Pity Party Short Bus that she is certainly driving while intoxicated, self-absorbed, and oh, so Oscar worthy - just after thumping Rachel on the forehead for her emotional cowardliness.

If that isn’t enough, Kym – yes, once again – bares her soul at the local AA meeting, recounting the story about being high and crashing her car, killing her little brother who was inside.

But her “toast” to the happy couple during the rehearsal dinner was so self-absorbed, cringe-worthy and uncomfortable that my interest in trying to understand her character’s pain dissolved like two antacids in my hangover cure. If my sister pulled this kind of shit on me I would personally reach down her dress, pull out her menstruating cavity plug and shove it down her self-absorbed pie hole.

So many questions - Do real people really pull that kind of shit? Why did her family members just let it go? Why didn’t one of the Fame Kids take her out? Ba Da Bing!!

Deborah Winger plays Rachel and Kym’s mother with an icy, irritable grace. She obviously checked out of her marriage and parenting responsibilities shortly after the death of the son. The scene where she and her husband leave the rehearsal dinner early is quite painful to watch. The look of heartbreak on Rachel’s face made me think about calling my own crazy Mom to say, “I love you”. I forgot to do it while I was in line buying my second tub of popcorn, but the thought did enter my mind. That is what counts, right?

But I digress. A family confrontation takes place with Rachel telling Kym that she basically wants her to die the death of a ragdoll for causing so much grief in the family. Kym flees the scene, ending up at Mom’s house. She confronts her mother about why she allowed her to take care of her little brother knowing that Kym was already a drug addict and was high the day she drove the car with him into a river.

This was actually my favorite scene. Mom tells her, “You were your best - when you were with him!”. Kym tells her, “but I was high!” (Or something like that… I can’t remember because firstly, I popped an Oxycontin shortly prior to this scene and I can’t sit through this film again to get the dialog right). They both end up slapping each other across the face in a catfight and Kym flees again. That was awesome – the scene, the popcorn and MY high.

She stops by a convenience store for what we assume is some emotionally alleviating liquids and ends up ramming the family Mercedes into an innocent, helpless tree. So now that’s another death on her record – because we know RNA/DNA – death is all the same. She survives the crash and passes out in the front seat of the car until the police come and retrieve her ridiculously dramatic ass - in the morning.

Kym shows up before the wedding somewhat contrite and quiet. No one in the family asks her where she’s been or what has happened to the family car, or why she has a black eye. Why not, they are oblivious to the black guy and the black eye - truly color-blind liberals.

Rachel goes into motherhood mode, as we can assume she’s done many times before with Kym, and bathes her. It’s a touching scene between two sisters who know that they will always be each other’s enabler. Kym wears the sari that she has been bitching about wearing for this interterminable melodramatic waste of fine, upstanding Screen Actors Guild time, money and union employees- and allows her sister to finally be the focus of attention for this one day, her wedding day.

The Fame kids and other wedding guests have a marvelous time, the Buchman family comes together for these few fleeting hours, and the movie ends with Kym going back to rehab and me wondering why I didn’t just take the last 113 minutes of my life picking the cheese out of my toes instead of watching this “Academy Award” caliber performance by Anne Hathaway.

The use of a hand held camera gives Rachel Getting Married the intimacy and realism this kind of emotionally drenched film needs, but it got really old, really fast. Bill Irwin as Dad and Rosemarie DeWitt as Rachel give excellent performances that were over looked by the media when this Anne Hathaway Indie Oscar vehicle came out. Kym’s character is so unappealing. Is she just looking for someone to forgive, love and validate her? I didn’t care. I just wanted to shake her and scream “grow up and get a job!”

Fame!
I'm gonna live forever
I'm gonna learn how to fly
High!

I feel it coming together
People will see me and cry
Fame!

RUDO Y CURSI - Aka…Rough and Vulgar

The story follows two Mexican half-brothers from the point of “being discovered” as soccer prodigies in a small village to becoming nationally famous players.

If you weren’t such a closed-minded, ignorant redneck you might recognize the two lead actors and the director from Y Tu Mama Tambien from a few years back. But you were probably sitting at home watching Die Hard on TNT for the 9th time. Sorry to disturb your mindless dribble-athon.

Rudo, played by Diego Luna, is a talented goalie with a wife and kids and has a penchant for gambling.

Cursi, played by Gael Garcia Bernal, is a talented forward, but his real desire is to be a singer. He comes to date a TV game show hostess played by the very hot Jessica Mas as Maya. Give me more!!

There is a standout performance by Guillermo Francella as the narrarator/talent scout who, of course, has many masters’s and motives.

Brothers have been fighting since before the bible. So, this is a tried and true narrative. Cursi and Rudo compete on the field for national as well as family pride. Both deal with problems and peccadillo’s throughout the film.

I had real empathy for these characters (even with their warts). I wish some of you idiotic action-flick fucks would take the time to experience a little something called “character development” as we do in this movie.

Both lead characters get played by one or more - a talent scout, women, gamblers or family.

And yes, Abzug, you will get a shot of some hot, Mexican ass along the way!!

I know that you will buy this DVD asap so you can get some Hispanic fodder for your next Wankapalooza session, but in reality you will be drawn to the soccer boy hazing in the shower.

This brings me to a problem with the film. Both of the boys are ritualistically hazed upon joining their respective teams. Even though both have female relationships — upon 3-4 punches from fellow team mates — each gives in to their latent homosexual underpinnings within 10 seconds of initiation.

If these guys would have been detainees held at Gitmo — we could have killed Bin Laden within 15 minutes after water torture. Oh, sorry, I mean interrogation.

Is everyone just assumed to be bi-sexual? Not on any “football” team that I have ever been a member. Hey, just because all the “cool kids” are getting their dicks sucked in the shower doesn’t mean that you can serve me up a kielbasa on a bun or that Jose and Carlos should feel free to treat me to as their human Push-Up from the ice cream truck fridge.

This movie features a painful, Spanish rendition of a Cheap Trick classic — I want you to want Me which got funnier every time I heard it.

Abzug — Here are your 3 Take-Aways because I don’t want you having a TIA trying to figure out this movie.

SEVEN POUNDS - Aka…Seven Pounds of Shit


One word to describe this movie…BOOOOORRRRRING!

This is definitely the worst Will Smith movie yet. And that bar is being raised ever higher with each passing month. I understand that he was instant money for several movies in a row, but I can’t believe this one has a chance. Will plays a supposed IRS agent and official “good guy”. That, my little numbskulls, is called an OXYMORON. The over earnestness of his character is nauseating and boring as hell! This movie is two hours long…two damn hours!

Dragging….

The only glimmer of hope in this movie is co-star Rosario Dawson. Super, super hot even with heart disease. If she needs a stint –your humble reviewer, Pappa Abzug, is legitimately offering to put her under my scalpel.

Even with the babe factor …still dragging.

This movie grinds and grinds like the repetitive, nearly indistinguishable, guitar chords and lyrics droning through a Ronnie James Dio concert (circa 1978). The do-goodness is sickening (maybe that is why Rosario is struggling with the heart disease). Or maybe it’s just all of those Moo Burgers she choked down her pregnant ass in Clerks II.

However, I bet the mass movie goers were crying like babies with all the chicks saying to their significant other, “hold me, please hold me”. And we, being the gentlemen movie-goers that we are, do so, on just the hope of the nipple making an appearance by night’s end.

Spoiler Alert I - This is your typical story about a man driving home with his hot wife conversing happily about the giant rock he just provided her, checks his blackberry, swerves on to oncoming traffic and kills six people. The guilt ensues, he decides to 86 himself and give away the organs.

I am just betting that the god fearing crowd is totally moved by this movie. Hey, you hypocrites, do us all a favor and when you get into your F-250 on the way home from the theater and you’re weaving in and out of traffic – flipping off every non-rifle-toting peacenik with an Obama sticker on their car – You were just hugging and weeping with that, “We are the World” or “Kumbaya” Fuck – 15 minutes earlier in this god-forsaken mess of a tear-jerk off!! Oh, yeah, and how about when you do hit a pedestrian that is jaywalking. Stop and render aid!! And yes, it DID have something to do with the 14 empty beer cans found by Adrian Monk rolling around in the back of your pick-up.

Don’t be a Kennedy and speed dial your high-priced DWI attorney while devising your defense theory that the “sleep medication” that you were prescribed by Anna Nicole Smith’s Bermudan physician affected your senses, and that, oh, yeah, you will be entering a detox for the next 6 weeks until the 24 hour news cycle has picked up on the fact that the president’s kids just nagged President DaDa into selective-servicing a new pet fish named HOPE – for the White House!

Spoiler Alert II - Smith is planning his suicide because he did something bad earlier in his life and is giving back his 7 pounds of flesh to make up, by donating to seven really good people. Evidently, none of these seven had any modicum of knowledge on making a gripping drama that exceeded the weekly expectations that TV stars, Gary Coleman, Dana Plato and Todd Bridges brought to their true-life struggles of a middle class family on Diff’rent Strokes.

Maybe this is the kind of catharsis that Ms. Plato was trying to achieve when she turned out her own lights. I’ll bet she has no better insight into this Seven Pounds of Shit after seeking Sigmund Freud’s perceptions while dropping some of the best acid in heaven.

But the good news is that it couldn’t have sucked any worse - and she has all of that free time to kill.

SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE - Aka...Know it all Brown Trash Gets Lucky


I’ll admit it. I loved this film. I fell for the energy, the vibrancy, for the colorful saris and for director Danny Boyle’s ability to show me the dirty, putrid side of humanity without making me blow corn (from either end). Having said that, there is plenty to rag on as we follow India’s Oliver Twist on his journey to riches beyond his wildest dreams…

We first meet Jamal Malik as he is being tortured by the Indian police. He’s accused of being a cheater in India’s version of the “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire” game show. How is it possible that this “slumdog” kid knows all the correct answers to the game show questions? He’s uneducated. He’s poor. He’s from the lowest of the lowest caste. Get out the nipple clamps! After the Police Inspector takes pity on him, Jamal is allowed to explain. The answers lie in his childhood experiences as the poor/orphan/little brother/Muslim/pick-pocket/beggar/Taj Mahal tour guide/long lost love- finder/end-credits Bollywood Dancer/Freddie Mercury protagonist. Goodness, Gracious, Me! (thanks, BBC America).

Cue flashbacks! Cue flash-forwards! Cue cheesy Game Host smile! All for 20 million rupeeeees!

I wanted to give a detailed run down of every flashback Jamal has, but I just don’t have the energy. This is a somewhat exhausting film. The colors, the lights, the violence and the scene changes are hard for those of us with ADD. Do take snacks and beverages with you when viewing this film (but don’t eat during the Outhouse scene, mmkay?). I did love how Jamal ends up working as a tea server, or chai walla, at an Indian call center, though. It’s good to know that my Dell Tech Support professional gets to whet his whistle between his incoherent explanations and my moments of confusion.

Apparently Indians (dot, not feather) didn’t much care for this film because it depicts slum kids running, playing, having hope and speaking in broken English instead of Hindi. Of course, not every evil Indian gangster is a big, fat, greasy, abusive asshole. Not all Indian women are suppressed, ignorant, neglected and subservient. (Ok, maybe they are.) And yes, the slum scenes and train scenes were sterilized. We all know that if the tuberculosis and e-coli didn’t kill off half of these slumdogs by the time they were eight, the national B.O. epidemic would.

Slumdog Millionaire is ultimately a love story and a tale of redemption and forgiveness. Life is not about The Money, it’s about The Love. Yes, I just threw up in my mouth a little bit for typing that, but it’s true.

I’m not sari I saw this film and you won’t be either. Check it out, kutiyas. You’ll be glad you did.

Now where’s my Chai!

STAR TREK - Aka… Yes, another one.

A disclaimer: I think "Trekkies" are the biggest bunch of no-life LOSERS to inhabit the planet or the galaxy... and this coming from me, King Hippo, who collects comic books! You can't imagine the number of times I was conned into going to a Star Trek movie and stood aghast at the idiots who came to see the movie dressed up like their favorite Star Trek character. On the other hand, I was quite proud to dress up like Frank n’ Furter every Friday night for the extravagant re-creation of The Rocky Horror Picture Show at my local Cineplex.

Or the time I was lassoed and dragged kicking and screaming to a Star Trek convention... It ain’t exactly a Menses convention. Dr. Crusher looked pretty fucking hot tho... You can only imagine — people that would even consider hanging out with me.

I also never thought much of the low budget original TV series and subsequent whoring out of the Star Trek franchise to spin offs. A couple of the early movies were ok, and one TV episode written by Harlan Ellison was pretty good, but the cheap sets and overacting and my overall lack of interest in Sci Fi did me in. If you know who Harlan Ellison is — it is time to get you over to play Dungeons and Dragons with me and my closest buddies. We are all wearing our footsy PJs.

This brings me to the review of the latest Star Trek movie. I can't believe I'm saying this but it's actually pretty damn good. The movie focuses on the "origins" of Spock, Uhura, Kirk, Chekov, Scotty and Sulu — all worked around a plotline of time travel and revenge by an outlaw Romulan played by Eric Bana.

One of the reasons why the movie works is the no-name cast which pulls off some solid acting without the overacting so prevalent in Sci Fi movies or for that matter, anything with Bill Shatner. The Captain Kirk one liners and the rest of the crews' quirks are perfectly timed and wonderfully restrained in this edition, giving the movie believability while at the same time giving the characters a positive identity.

The special effects are on par with the best. The space to atmosphere sky dive and subsequent landing on a platform 20 feet in diameter got my acrophobia going full blast. It is also good to see that the metric system hasn’t quite made it into deep space.
Spock's "gyro rocket" is one of the coolest spacecraft I've ever seen in a movie.
My only quibble was the Spock-Uhura bi-esophageal tongue dive every time you turn around. What the HELL? Spock would be much more professional than that. We already "get" the fact that he's half human...we don't need Starfleet's HR department involved.

The only other distraction I had was with helmsman John Cho who played the young Sulu. For the uninformed, Cho played Harold in all of the "Harold and Kumar" movies. I kept waiting for Sulu to go missing and Kirk finding him holed-up in a bathroom stall sparking up a Cheech and Chong sized doobie.

As much as I hate to do this... 4 Naybobs

TELL NO ONE- Aka...NPR thought this was good - Enough Said?


…That this movie Sucks!!

The producers candidly admitted this was the complete title of this, wanna be, Film Noir.

I first decided to watch this movie after hearing a glowing review from, of all places, National Public Radio. Surprised that Old Dan Cedar likes these kinds of movies? Guess again, you socialist loving bastard!!

I know that you took French in your 8 years spent getting your master’s degree – which is good, so then maybe you can put my new title of this movie into Le English-

Merde Sur Une Brindille!!

This subtitles into Shit On A Stick.

Louvre Lover!!

There are so many aimless characters meandering in and out of this sweat-fest that it is nearly impossible to keep up. Don’t worry. You aren’t going to see it anyway, Pierre. I am an American - Trust Me, like I trust God – You atheist bastard. I am going to tell you the whole convoluted story while ruining the ending - and you will barely care enough about it to actually finish this review – much less order it through Netflix.

You may recognize Kristen Scott Thomas from the equally interminable The English Patient. In this little crapfest, Ms. Thomas plays a french-speaking lesbian. One out of two ain’t bad.

No, we don’t see she and her “wife” have sex, but we do see them kiss a couple of times. Definitely won’t override the fact that we have to sit through the French Dustin Hoffman sweating and panting for over 2 hours.

There are more gaps in this meandering story than bullet holes in the bodies that are littered throughout the movie – which, by the way – is a lot – especially in a country with it’s plethora of hand gun laws.

This movie longs to be The French Fugitive, but unlike The Fugitive, no one is very smart – including the doctor.

Another problem that you may not recognize until the 11th minute of the movie is Hot Wife and her Doctor Hubs are supposed childhood sweethearts. Except when they grow up she is 25 and he is 45. Nationalized healthcare and all of those cigs will put the years on you – I guess.

After some skinny dipping with Doc Hubs - Hot Wife ends up fake dead.
For 8 years she is “hiding” in Spain –Doc Hubs thinks that she is real dead the whole time.
No, it wasn’t the Maginot Line keeping her away.
Hot Wife’s daddy tells her that Doc Hubs is dead so she won’t come back to The Motherland.
Ipso Facto – she stays in Spain apparently without a brain or internet service.
The case is re-opened by the French Monk (the detective – not the priest).
Hot Wife has an epiphany and decides to contact Doc Hubs with cryptic messages on the internet – which she has suddenly learned how to operate.
Things get real convoluted from there – if it hasn’t already.
Bottom Line – Turns out Daddy killed a guy that beat her up.
There is a lot of underlying bullshit that is completely unnecessary about Doc Hubs being chased by the police, the gangsta father of a hemophiliac kid that protects Doc Hubs and a lot of twists and gyrations to get us to the happy ending – where Daddy kills himself and where the now 53 year old doctor finds that his, now, 33 year old wife is, “yes, thankfully”, still hot.

Want to leave it in your Netflix Queue?

That is what I thought!!

THE DARK KNIGHT - Aka...The Long Night


There are really just two main problems with this movie.

First - the big one - it takes 2.5 hours for a comic book movie. Would someone please cut a scene or twenty?

“Great, Really, This is a “GREAT movie? Really? Does anybody that saw this movie have any perspective on "GREAT"?

Citizen Kane was less than 2 hours. American Beauty was a couple of minutes longer.

So, why do we need this much time to tell a story that originally accompanied a cartoon?

I have no idea.

I am a big fan of Christopher Nolan who also directed Memento. Not so much, here. Would it have been shorter if went backwards?

Problem two - why is Batman, who is the coolest superhero ever, or Bruce Wayne, the richest guy in Gotham City, and the District Attorney with the giant cleft chin -all chasing Maggie Gyllenhaal?

She is good looking enough for me, but not the other three guys.

I kept wanting to give her a nose job and fix those two pieces of skin that hang down between the oink nose and her mouth.

No, Really!!

In closing, it was a good start - a good ending, but in the middle of the movie my 11 year old asked me why all the people were evacuating the city?

I told him that I didn't know, I was a little confused.

Should a movie about a comic book be this confusing?

Maybe if I would have had some Xanax, some Blow, a couple of Cigs, some Smack and some Vicodin – I would have enjoyed this movie.

No, Really!!

I only wish I was joking!!

Ian Specter

THE LIVES OF OTHERS - Aka...Like The Reader, except, It didn't wipe its own Ass with my Tongue!!


Synopsis – kind of like The Reader – only, it had a poignant story, superb acting and it didn’t suck!!

The Lives of Others is set in the German Democratic Republic (GDR) beginning in the mid 1980s leading up to the Glasnost period. The film looks at a dark part of German history and gives it perspective while artfully interspersing the narrative with the gradual emotional and psychological awakening of one of the lead characters.

The most understated, powerful role of the film is played by the late actor from the former GDR -Ulrich Mühe, as Gerd Wiesler – a front-line member of the Stasi (Secret Police) that is assigned to conduct surveillance, interrogate, and pass judgment on potential enemies of the state.

We follow the awakening and acceptance of the German public to the abuses of the omnipotent Stasi. The film provides another essential – though not overbearing - reminder of how absolute power corrupts absolutely. It made me ask how our preceding United States president would interrogate, while carefully not torturing enemy combatants at Guantanamo Bay and to ask the current El Presidente if there are any Fortune 500 CEOs that he would like to dismiss this week or maybe just put in a re-education labor camp?

Run on sentence alert I: The Lives of Others pursues nuanced characters that all have flaws - from prescription drug abuse, to the oily, skanky, un-Pantene-ed East German tresses, to the dingy, european Smoke-a-Thon and painfully evident lack of fluoride in the water - which apparently allows even movie stars to adorn their periodontally challenged pearly-grays on a 50 meter wide screen.

Run on sentence alert II: This movie achieves a very literate (politically, musically and readerly –fake word) introspective, nationalistic, non-overbearing piece of art in a way that The Reader only sought to realize - in its own extremely heavy-handed, emotionally detached, egg-headed, completely dicked-up manner.

Yet in this case, the Academy got it right!!

This was the 2007 Academy Award winner for Best Foreign Film. I can’t believe I wrote that out loud. Those imbecilic, fucking fucks got it right. There, I did it again.

Serenity now…

All of the actors and characters have depth. While wrapped in a mystery that slowly unfolds – we gradually uncover our protagonists and antagonists and find souls for whom to root.

While reviewing bad movies – I am prone to reveal every telegraphed blindsiding or any surprise of note that will be exposed in the Ambien-fest on film.

Not in this case. That is all that you’re getting from me. A good movie – like a good bag of weed – should be slowly savored and discussed with some of your buzz-buddy’s -afterward - about “what it really meant”.

Put it in your Netflix queue and get it ASAP!!

As an added feature on the DVD, watch first-time Director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck’s interview. It gives even more engrossing emotional poignancy to the movie.

Rant Alert!!: Bottom line- if you like to revel in the fact that for every fifty brain-dead - Fast and FuriousCon Air - Hannah MontanaJonas Brothers - Indiana Jones 9Raiders of the Lost Nursing Home or The Reader – movies out there….you find THIS one little Money Shot!! that doesn’t involve Jenna Jameson flossing her bicuspids with some new Vivid Girl of The Month’s nicely trimmed, self-foiled flaxen pubes…there is still a diminutive morsel of hope for the wide-wide world of cinema.

This movie also brings to mind this contemplation – If Socialism sucked so hard for nearly 50 years in post WWII Germany – What makes it a socially and economically viable initiative for these-here United States in 2009.

It harkens me back to the time when Huey Long – with his “Share our Wealth” program was considered just another has-been that never was – Nut Job!!

But, as John Lennon sang in his (almost forgotten) cameo appearance onstage at the senior prom playing guitar for Marty’s great grandson, Dakota McFly in Back to the Future VII

“Strange days indeed!!”

THE READER - Aka...Hot Illiterate 36 Year Old Nazi Fraulein Seduces Clueless Teenage Boy for Bedtime Stories and Fulfillment of Oedipus Complex


Thirty six year old Hanna Schmitz can’t read. Fifteen year old Michael Berg has hepatitis. Both live in post WWII Germany. They meet by coincidence on the tram that Hanna conducts. After Michael blows chunks, Hanna cleans him up and sends him on his way. Once recovered, Michael returns to Hanna’s apartment to personally thank her for the motherly assistance. She in turn thanks him by sending him to get coal. Something tells me she’s used this pick-up line before. When Michael returns looking like Bert in Mary Poppins, Hanna tells him to get in the bath. Seduction follows. Reading of classic literature follows. Hepatitis is contracted. Lather, rinse, repeat. It’s refreshing to see that Kate Winslet has floppy boobs and stretch marks.

The affair and bedtime stories continue un-detected and un-punished by society and the police because, apparently, it’s every fifteen year old boy’s fantasy to fuck a smoking hot Nazi Cougar. Especially one who lashes out at him due to her raging Nazi guilt and the illiteracy she keeps to herself (in spite of the fact that she was somehow able to lease her own apartment and keep various jobs post-WWII). Finally, and I mean FINALLY, Hanna decides to split and Michael is left clueless, but sad now, his willy and bookmark hanging in the wind.
Fast-forward eight years. Michael is a law student who observes a war crimes trial for class. He pays more attention to the perky stack on a fellow female law student than he does to the trial. That is until Hanna Schmitz is called to testify. Turns out she was a prison guard who locked 300 Jewish women in a church to die during the bombing and evacuation of her camp. Her defense is that she was only doing her job. Michael can’t relate the Sex and Literature-starved Hanna he knew to the old, heartless moron he sees on trial. Hanna is dog- piled by the other female prison guards who are also on trial and because she is still, STILL, at forty- four years old, ashamed about her illiteracy, she makes a fake confession about being the head guard. She’s convicted to wash Big Bertha’s back for twenty years.

Fast-forward to Michael’s middle age and Hanna’s gray hair. Michael tapes himself reading classic literature and sends the tapes to Hanna in jail. Hanna checks out the corresponding books from the prison library and teaches herself to read. It’s a true Christmas Miracle. Hanna’s release date approaches. Michael reluctantly agrees to help her find employment and a roof over her head. The audience is grossed out by the thought of Michael and Hanna getting it on post-release date. Michael shows up to retrieve Hanna on the fateful release day, only to be told that she decided to use some books as a stool to end it all with a noose a few hours earlier. Michael is still dumb, but even sadder now, and he decides to donate Hanna’s savings to a Jewish illiteracy charity. Oh the irony of it all.

I’ll admit, I got teary eyed at the end of this Fraulein/Fancy Pants saga, but that was only because I got popcorn butter in my eye.

The Morrigan

THE READER - Aka...The Yawner


Synopsis - Sickie Boy (Harry Longfellow) meets Sicko Nazi (Ina Illiterate).

Both in Heat - Sparks fly. Read books. Lots of bathing. Bike Ride.

Mr. Smarty-Pants with the 180 IQ can’t figure out she is a moron.

Duhh!!

HL thinks - hmmm –“I can put my Jimmy Dean to use on some younger frau –hmmm – How about that one there -sans pit hair.”

Nazi is promoted, but is embarrassed she can’t read -so she leaves HL.

HL"Whaaaaa - Nobody loves me"!! "But the good news is that I can use this as an excuse for the rest of my life!!"

Law School - HL still has a crush on II and knows that she is no more culpable than the rest of the nazis. But his daddy was mean and he was molested. Whaaa!!

Off to prison and a divorce for the other. Yawn. Who cares when you don’t have a protagonist!! No – that isn’t a question!!

In comes Mr. Fiennes - competing with Perry Como for the most boring man on screen. - Big or
Small.

Oh, Good!!- Now he will do something exciting on screen. How about- read 300 books into a tape. FASCINATING!! Orson Welles is rolling over in his grave.

Fast Forward 200 years. Not that fast.

The Nazi can finally read and write. Should he answer her letters? No- " Whhaaaa - nobody loves me- I am tormented. I still have an excuse....blah blah blah".

Fast Forward 200 more years- and he finally shows the balls that came with the Tube Snake.

HL - Shows up to prison with no empathy and a job. Glory – Halleluiah!!

Now this part passes as irony –
She climbs up on a stack of books and hangs herself.
Somebody, HANG ME NOW!!

Wait, not yet!! He has to bare his soul to his kid. “The reason I have been a rotten dad is …..” You know the routine.

And there you have it – a movie that all the literate snobs can point to as literate.

“And the Oscar goes to….”

JT - Johnny Tirade

TWILIGHT - Aka...Virgin Vamps Heavy Petting


Ok, fast forward to chapter four of the DVD (this will save you a little time of blah, blah, blah) and get to the scene of this little hottie vampire movie for one of the best “come and suck me!” looks that will ever be encountered during a regular movie or one of my favorite adult matinees. The bad news is we don’t get to fruition.

Our lust infested hottie is “Bella” Swan who just looked in a magic magnifying glass and then to her main vampire future squeeze, Edward Cullen. Unfortunately, we come to understand, that theirs is a self-imposed celibacy - though there are many more of these incredible suck me looks throughout the movie. I had to keep a pillow beside me for a little dry humping. At times I wanted to slap this little vamp, but then I wanted to make sweet love to her. I have a hard time separating the two at times. Bella moans that she is one that “suffers in silence” at the beginning of the movie. I think what she really means is that she is not a screamer but her facial expressions are just fine for the memory banks to be used for that late night jerk fest.

Thank god for slow motion.

Every vampire is easily noticed, just look for a good looking teenager with a pale complexion that is on the edge of a growing a uni-brow.

For a teenage girl, Bella seems a scoche overly elated to be driving a piece of shit old Chevy pick-up.

All the other non-vampire ridden teenagers have a happy go lucky goofy-ass look poured all over their faces. The northwest is crying out for a new colony of blood seekers - especially the young and hot ones. Of course, this is what vampires seek. I feel secure in the knowledge that Bill Gates’ son is safe.

As a serious Seinfeld fan, I took note that our first blood sucking victim was none other than Elaine’s instant promotional psycho Eddie Sherman from “The Fatigue’s” episode. Ahhh, I finally had a connection to this piece of crap movie.

Edward confronts the messy little fact that Bella is his personal “Heroin”. Doesn’t everyone have this little personal heroin thing that they have to confront? The trail of needlemarks on my arms is extremely comforting – thanks very much. This brought to mind a very esoteric question, “Is heroin bad for you – if you don’t inject it?”

But maybe I am delving too deep in this haughty vampire celibacy-fest.

Our hot, little (heroin) heroine has one of the funniest vampire lines - “Three things I am absolutely positive. First, Edward is a vampire (ok, cool). Second, he wants my blood (just where do you intend on sucking this out of?). Third, I am in love with him.”

The teen angst exhibited in this movie has a proportionally nauseating effect on the stomach of any person over 17. Even though nobody is getting laid, or maybe for just this reason, this movie is sucking the life out of me.

When little Bella falls prey to the cooler, hotter crowd of “reality” vampires, it is up to Edward to save her by sucking out the bad blood and resisting the temptation to pull her into his gang. And why resist? Bella would be cool to suck on - around the clock.

Twilight is made for the young teenage crowd full of hot comely – wishing they were cumly girls. This movie is not for a person who is actually “thinking” but is for that young, hip crowd that will walk away thinking, “Hey, this movie will give me some great masturbation material when my parents send me to bed at 9pm. If that is what we all get out of this two hours – maybe I have more in common with the masses attracted to this movie than I thought.

Abzug

WATCHMEN - Aka...Yes, He has a Huge Dick!!


Another comic book adaptation, another dry-heave.

Let me save you 2.5 hours of your life that you’ll never get back.

THE ENDS JUSTIFY THE MEANS

Sound familiar. Machiavelli wrote a little book on this almost 600 years ago.

Want more? Let’s face it; most American movie-goers are abject morons incapable of any discernment or critical thinking. They’re used to “oohing” and “aahing” over crap like Superman, Batman and Spiderman movies. Therefore, when asked to give an evaluation of Watchmen, the response of the average movie-goer is, “I don’t get it!”

REALLY? “You don’t get it?” REALLY?

The problem with Watchmen is that it’s too intellectual for the general public, especially if they have not read the graphic novel. Watchmen is one adaptation which would have benefited from a large dose of poetic license. SCREW what the average fanboy thinks – he’s already masturbated to the graphic novel enough to use it as home plate on a baseball diamond.

Speaking of masturbation, how many scenes involving Dr. Manhattan’s stimulus package is ENOUGH? He’s so beyond the earthly realm that he has no need for clothing…OK! We GET IT!

It used to be that full frontal female nudity guaranteed a film an “X” rating and full frontal male nudity ended up on the editing floor.
What?
Were the producers doing exit polling to see how many women and homos came strictly for the kielbasa show?

I’m not knocking the movie for being intellectual. It was actually a breath of fresh air compared to mindless pap* like Ironman, The Hulk, and X-Men, but sometimes a literal translation (save for the ending in this movie) leaves out too much of the descriptive text which is necessary to make a more seamless movie. Kind of like that last sentence.

One certainty: if Billy Crudup’s acting career takes a nosedive anytime soon, there will be steady work for him in the San Fernando Valley vanquishing Peter North to the unemployment line.

King Hippo

* Pap – defined as drivel, not smear, you fucking moron.

LAW ABIDING CITIZEN - AKA…Just Try Fucking With King Hippo

Just when you start to tire of the repetitive Hollywood dogshit, a heart warming "feel good" movie redeems the entire past year of wasted celluloid.

No, you thumb sucking, four eyed retard –
NOT Forrest Gump,
NOT The Blind Side,
NOT Radio, or any such family circle jerkery.

I'm talkin' 'bout a REAL "feel good" movie - Law Abiding Citizen.

By the way – if you like an ending or don’t like the word “Scum’,‘Scumbag’, ‘Scumbuket’ or ‘Tinkerer’…
You are going to have a REAL problem with this review.
Start counting SCUMBAG!

Gerard Butler stars as Clyde Shelton, a kindly "tinkerer" who, we find out later, works for the federal government. And no, he's not a "tinkerer" in the sense that Old Dan Cedar is a "tinkerer" when he gets around under aged altar boys.

Anyway, his family is brutally murdered right in front of him -as he is left for dead by a couple of typical scum sucking street rats during a home invasion.

Unlike, say, a home invasion when King Hippo is chillin'.

You fucking welfare trash will leave my crib in a black giant Ziploc bag with .40 caliber Hydrashok slugs lodged in every orifice of your worthless carcass which will only be found after rotting in my basement – several years down the road.

God bless the vigilante and God bless the local police department that spends the majority of its time and energy dispensing tickets and raising municipal capital for 31mph in a 20mph zone – and not looking for missing vagrants!

Clyde meets with Assistant DA (Jamie Foxx), who, in typical liberal fashion, makes agreements with murderers, rapists, and child molesters so he can pad his "conviction" resume and quickly climb the political ladder of government power. Bad guy? Well, maybe…check back later.

Clyde was perfectly willing to let the cards fall where they may, but wanted the main scumbucket tried with the death penalty on the table. Anyway, after Clyde recovers, he is shocked to find out that the hanger-on is going to meet his maker. But the real scumbag - #2 copped a plea and will only serve a few years for the murders of his wife and daughter.

During the next 10 years that the Scumbag is incarcerated we find out that Clyde is much more than a kindly tinkerer.

In other words, DON"T JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER, YOU FUCKING SCUMBAG TRASH! OR YOU WILL FIND OUT WHAT A POWER DRILL AND A CIRCULAR SAW CAN DO TO YOUR WORTHLESS WASTE OF SUBHUMAN FLESH!

Without divulging the gruesome details, let's just say that King Hippo was loudly cheering in the theater as the scumbag got a first hand lesson in vivisectioning. Luckily, Pee-Wee and I were the only glad-fisters in the theatre, and he’s not talking.

The scene stealer of the whole movie, however, was when Clyde was defending himself at the initial hearing and was arguing for bail to an obvious liberal judge who was about to actually grant said bail - until Clyde, basically called her a cock sucking, liberal, dog-shit stupid, know-nothing cunt. Finally, a man who has the courage of his convictions and doesn’t have to stand behind a faceless pen name on a ridiculously incoherent website.

But, I digress - this is the gist of this movie - whether you liked it or not - the U.S. justice system is the most fucked up, worthless, convoluted, retarded system of justice in the world.

King Hippo says "AMEN!"

This is the system where the worst scumbags on the face of the earth walk free, or do minimal time, has the best health and dental care while incarcerated. Gets three squares a day. Has weights to work out with. Has basketball and hand ball courts. Has track fields and cable TV.

And guess who pays for it?

YOU DO Country Joe !

Guess who actually does hard time for crimes in this country?

Joe Blow who smuggled in an endangered parrot from Mexico - 20 years federal prison!

Joe Jackoff who had gun parts for an M-16 which could make it fully automatic - 30 years federal prison!

Joe Alcoholic who got his third DWI but never actually caused an accident or hurt anyone while drunk –
10 years!

WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?

God bless the American justice system and the cock sucking ACLU lawyers!

You want an ending?
Here's to Joel and Ethan Coen!!
King Hippo also rules HIS country with NO endings!!

A CHRISTMAS CAROL


(No – Not the Movie, Asshole!)

The most disturbing, stage re-imagining of Charles Dickens’ classic, A Christmas Carol, that this reviewer has seen to date, gives new insights to a roadmap to world peace in this most holy of times.

This is only possible by the thoughtful direction of Michael Moore. His presence is everywhere, but most notably in his casting decisions.

The three leads are as follows:

Former Vice-President Richard Cheney plays Ebenezer Scrooge.
Mr. Cheney describes his view of the character as, “a greedy Jew bastard that hates everything Christian and Christ-like and who finds Jesus Christ on his death bed – just in time to repent and get his ass into heaven.”

In Moore’s stage-version, Scrooge also works for KBR and spends his time getting more troops sent to the Middle East while securing contracts for Halliburton.

Moore makes more than a few odd, insightful and latently-brilliant choices as director including adding a yellow-triangle on Scrooge’s sleeve. Moore explains, “We all know he is a Jew, but because the American public is so busy watching American Idol and Dancing with the Stars - they won’t see it unless some asshole points it out – and by god, that asshole is me!”

Ever-compromising Senator John McCain plays Scrooge’s lowly, abused associate Bob Cratchit. McCain explains his interpretation of Cratchit, “While in the presence of Scrooge, I constantly kiss his ass and beg for his blessing, but as soon as I leave – I cross the aisle to my home life and am free to concentrate on my low fat MILF of a wife and our bevy of kids that we have littered Dickensian London with.”

Against-type, Tiny Tim is embodied by the fiercely intelligent Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, the president of Iran. A review in The New York Times stated that “A bright star is born. In fact it so bright that it might create a black hole in this solar system powerful enough to create an explosion 100 times greater than that of a nuclear bomb.” McCain fawns about the Iranian leader saying, “His diminutive size makes him a giant on stage. And I, for one, am proud to hold him on my shoulders so the world can recognize his brilliance.”

In the final, gut wrenching scene, Scrooge is gleefully prancing about the stage wishing everyone a Merry Christmas. I was actually weeping as The Jew found his Christian heart.

But it is Tiny Tim’s triumphant cry that really brings down the house. “All praise to Allah!!

And with that, McCain physically positions himself between Cheney and Ahmadinejad inter-grasping their hands. Much as President Jimmy Carter did at the Camp David Accords in 1978, which brought a short-lived peace to the Middle East and an eventual Nobel Prize to all the participants.

When asked of his ultimate expectations for the play, Cheney offers the most poignant insight, explaining, “If that god-damned peanut farming pussy and this current naïve, presidential neophyte can win a fucking Nobel Peace Prize in two weeks – then getting one for each of the motley crew and half-wits that participated in this play shouldn’t be a problem.

It’s playing 6 weeks for Christ’s sake!!”

Cheney, grinning that sly smile, then leaned in and said,
“That’s not to say that I don’t want a Tony, too!!”