The week of August 11th through August 17th, 2007

The "Whoop-Doo!" Nation is chugging right along with healthy nods from both Cat Fancy and Coastal Angler magazines. Thanks for the kind words, fellows! Right back at you and your lovely publications. Now, for the real meat and potatoes...

Boos! and Whoop-doos!

Seacrest? Boo!

Ryan Seacrest to host the Super Bowl and the Emmys? Boo! There is this book called The Hidden Dangers of the Rainbow, and it pretty much talks about how "personal networking sites" like myspace and friendster are connecting everyone in the world, so they'll be easier to pick through when the anti-Christ finally arrives (geez, its been like a million years already, what's taking her so long?) Mind you, this book was written in the late seventies, when only the government really knew about the internet and what it could be used for. Well, the book also describes a time period when (like, right now) men would be emasculated and feminized to the point where even testosterone was a purse accessory. I'm not talking about the male populace all becoming queer, so don't run off screaming "homophobe". I love Superbad just as much as the next guy. No, I'm talking about biologically straight males who have wimp-shitty handshakes and absolutely no gruff to them. Take the gay out of the equation. This isn't about the homosexual man. It's about heterosexual men becoming less than the mass of an eight-year-old girl. It's what Sylvester Stallone's Rocky Balboa is about (listen to the commentary). Its this term "metro-sexual". It has seeped into our genes like creosote dripping off a corndog. Men are losing their machismo all around us. And it's totally a plot by the higher ups, whoever they may be, to completely destroy the will and humanity of not just our nation, but the world as a whole. Ryan Seacrest, the (so not gay) embodiment of weebish culture is pushing us towards this "wimp" apocalypse. And it has never been more apparent that the anti-Christ is certainly on the way. The Super Bowl is a manly event, for real men, gay, straight, or otherwise! Having Seacrest at the helm has neutered one of the last relished events of bonding brutality. I guess its time to pack our bags and get off this planet. I can't live in a world where the Super Bowl has to pee sitting down.

Boos! and Whoop-doos!

h5Drunk Murray? Whoop-doo!

Bill Murray drunk on a golf cart? Whoop-doo! This just makes me laugh. A lot. Bill Murray was pulled over for driving his golf cart through Stockholm while under the influence. No doubt to hype his upcoming sequel Who's Your Caddy Shack 3, where he teams up with OutKast's Big Boi to capture a family of gophers that are being used to infiltrate and destroy the recently segregate Two Palms Gold Golf Resort in Alabama. Murray gets a free pass just for being Murray. This DUI story is a lot funnier than Lohan's. Maybe if she'd been driving a golf cart, we could laugh at her too. In a joyous way. Not a "Ha, bitch, you get what you deserve" way. Seriously, how could anyone get mad at Bill Murray? He's a national treasure. If he wants to drive through tourist crowded streets with a beer in his hand, let him through.

Boos! and Whoop-doos!

h5Balls? Whoop-doo!

Balls of Fury? Whoop-doo! I don't care what the Internet critics have to say. This ultra-realistic sports film blew me away. That's right. This is no spoof, though it does have many comically surreal moments. The ping-pong played in this film is all real. There is no CGI. And it's fascinating to watch. The story is fashioned like a Kung Fu epic, except they've taken out the fists and replaced them with tiny bouncing balls. The narrative never strays from the world that Ben Garant and Thomas Lennon have created. And they have assembled an amazing team of players. Newcomer Dan Fogler is a burrito supreme. The kid is just awesome, and we are truly seeing the emergence of a comedic mastermind. He is understated in all the right places, and brings an electricity that hasn't been seen since the early days of Eddie Murphy. The person that really surprised me was George Lopez. I've never been a fan of his TV show, and I hated him in Spy Kids 3: Game Over. But he almost stills the entire enterprise here, giving a fresh, hilarious performance to the type of character that usually gets relegated to the outskirts of the screen. This whole movie is stupendous. I need to watch it again. Definitely one of my favorites of the summer, right behind Superbad and, well...I can't really think of anything that I liked as much as these two films.

Boos! and Whoop-doos!

h5Linden Dollars? Boo!

Blades of Glory skating party in Second Life? Boo! What is a linden dollar, and why do I need a thousand of them? Will they actually buy me something? Can I pay my kidney stone bill off with them? I don't know. And I don't want to find out. Apparently DreamWorks is running this weirdo promotion where you can win a free Blades of Glory DVD when you skate at all twelve of their designated skating rinks in Second Life. Its not actual skating, mind you. Its playing with your fingers. You do get to dress up like the characters in the movie. Well...You don't. But your Second Life alter ego does. I guess you could sew one of the outfits and wear it in front of your computer (if you want your computer to think you're a sod). That would be lame. Just like this asinine promotion. A Linden dollar? I think that's going to be my new favorite insult. Though, I'm not sure how I'm going to utilize it. How about: "Yo, see that Amazonian River Dolphin over there? She'll give you head for two linden dollars." No? I didn't think so.

Boos! and Whoop-doos!

h5Wonderbunny Aftershocks? Whoop-Doo!

Wonderbunny Aftershocks scores Dassler Biopic? Whoop-doo! These guys, described as garage-edelic, have been kicking around Los Angeles for about two years now. Its just two guys, studio musicians who have played and recorded with a number of legendary acts. The Grateful Dead. Hanson. Jerry Bruckheimer's private house band. Their music is an exciting, unique mix of contemporary rock reworked into subliminal landscapes. This week, they were contracted to write the musical score for the independent drama Dassler vs. Dassler. This contemporary Romeo & Juliet story takes place in the town of Herzogenaurach, near Nuremberg. Two teens fall in love, even though they live on opposing sides of a town split long ago by the feud between Adi Dassler and his brother Rudy. Adi created the Adidas running shoe. His younger sibling split from the company to create Puma. The two halves of Herzogenaurach have been living in disharmony ever since. Director Pauly Coober wrote the script, which will utilize Wonderbunny Aftershock's music in scenes that flashback to the creation of the Adidas and Puma shoe empires. They should bring a peaceful rocking ambiance to the piece (oxymoron). Good on them.

Boos! and Whoop-doos!

h5Davis? Whoop-doo!

Michael Davis? Whoop-doo! He is hands down the best director to ever marry on-screen gunplay to adoptive childcare. His non-stop action thriller Shoot 'Em Up is a relentless joyride of gun and baby powder. I think Davis is a little off his rocker. He'd have to be. He's made a fractured masterpiece, and he is awesome. I can't wait to see more from the man in the future. And that's all I have to say about that.

Boos! and Whoop-doos!

h5Jail trends? Boo!

Jail time is the new lap dog? Boo! It used to be, only gangsta rappahs went to jail. Now our pretty, So-Cal socialites are doing time on the side of rhea. You mother fuckers. Trends. You must love 'em. First, it was the small lap dog. Paris used to carry that formaldehyde-shaved poodle Tacobell around in her purse. Before you knew it, every starlet that wanted to be seen was doing the same thing. Paris couldn't stand the copycats. So, she made a suck-off dick tape that sold like banana hot cakes in Jamaica. Again, the tween debutants followed suit. So, then, she decided to do jail time, flaunting it like the latest Gucci handbag. Basically, the stint behind bars was a stunt to promote E!'s new season of The Simple Life. It worked in our favor. That shitty show got cancelled. But now, all of her little crabgina pals are following suit, playing the Folsom Prison blues at their pity party. Nicole Ritchie has gone that route. And now, as of today, it looks like firecrotch herself is going to do the same thing. 2 DUIs and a bag of coke gave I Know Who Killed Me enough promotional power to send it into the 9th spot its opening weekend. Without that little push, it surely would have lingered somewhere around the 11th or 12th hole. This jail time here, which is really just a revolving door stay (meaning she comes in at night and then leaves early in the morning), is being set up to promote her next film Chapter 27, a film about Mark David Chapman and John Lennon. It's already in the can. Their thinking is, "She's great it in. She gives an Oscar worthy performance. She's also done time in jail, but she's all clean now. Rah! Go team Lohan." This is great reality television, don't ya think? I'm telling you, this shit is scripted hook, line, and stinker. Get her kooze-ooze out of my face!

That's it for this, the mother of all columns. I'll see you at the Art Laboe live show. Later, crotch donkeys!

Cinemark Movie Club
B. Alan Orange