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March 31, 2003 |
President Bush celebrates his victory after months of lobbying Academy voters I>Operation Enduring Freedom, President Bush's fantasy about one dyslexic man-boy's quest to liberate Iraq from the tyranny of a dangerous criminal mastermind, claimed four Oscars last Sunday, including best adapted screenplay. The script was adapted from his father George Herbert Walker Bush's record-grossing Operation Desert Storm, which took home nine Academy Awards in 1991, including Best Special Effects and Best Costumes.
In a tearful acceptance speech marked by his endearing broken English, the president thanked God, his campaign contributors, Big Oil, Tammy Wynette, God "and anyone who's ever had a dream."
After a heart-rending string of several moments when Bush forgot why he was at the podium, the president ended his speech with a salute to the...
I>Operation Enduring Freedom, President Bush's fantasy about one dyslexic man-boy's quest to liberate Iraq from the tyranny of a dangerous criminal mastermind, claimed four Oscars last Sunday, including best adapted screenplay. The script was adapted from his father George Herbert Walker Bush's record-grossing Operation Desert Storm, which took home nine Academy Awards in 1991, including Best Special Effects and Best Costumes.
In a tearful acceptance speech marked by his endearing broken English, the president thanked God, his campaign contributors, Big Oil, Tammy Wynette, God "and anyone who's ever had a dream."
After a heart-rending string of several moments when Bush forgot why he was at the podium, the president ended his speech with a salute to the father, the son and the holy thing before wandering away from the podium muttering about bombing Turkey.
Iraq was clearly the subject on everyone's mind for the night, as many of the award winners made remarkable antiwar statements and peppered their acceptance speeches with deeply moving commentary.
"At times like this we need to honor the real heroes," gushed a teary-eyed Best Actress Nicole Kidman. "The men and women who keep this country great by playing soldiers in major motion pictures, reminding us what it's like to die for your country, or the country where you make money. People like Josh Hartnett. I wish he were here tonight, to celebrate with us."
Hartnett, who was in the men's room getting a blowjob at the time of the speech, took the honor in stride. "Nah man, I'm not a hero. When we were out filming in Bosnia, the catering people were the real heros. Those bagel sandwiches were awesome."
After Kidman's moving speech, host Steve Martin lightened the mood by announcing that Hartnett would be starring this summer in Pearl Harbor II: America Bombs the Sand People with Bruce Willis and John Leguizamo.
Director Steven Spielberg, on hand in case any spare Oscars went unclaimed, raised the consciousness of the room when he spoke out against Saddam Hussein's use of human shields in the early stages of the war. "America has no choice but to remove from power a leader who would put thousands of innocent people in harm's way by not putting all of his tanks and things out in the desert where we can blow them up easy like last time. He gives us no choice but to attack and kill civilians so that we might liberate them." Spielberg's comments were met with loud applause from an audience that contained suspiciously few survivors from the United States' bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945.
Best Documentary Film winner Michael Moore drew angry boos from the fickle crowd for his anti-war statements, leading some to speculate that the audience wasn't actually listening to the words and was just cheering for the general attractiveness of the speakers.
Best Supporting Actress Catherine Zeta-Jones also spoke out against the war in her brief acceptance speech:
"Fuck you all, I'm pregnant."
In a surprise humanitarian move, Miramax head Harvey Weinstein announced that all of Miramax's eighteen Oscar-winning films will be re-released to the theaters this month, in an effort to help Americans cope with the stresses of war. the commune news will refer all future questions of journalistic integrity to a boombox playing Bobby Brown's seminal 1988 hit My Prerogative. Ivana Folger-Balzac has recently leapfrogged over taxes and is soon to overtake death on the list of unpleasant things in life that cannot be avoided.
 | Man-eating shark brought in by grouper wearing wire
Iraq plagiarized Mexican constitution to meet deadline
No rule against dog running in Kentucky Derby
Blockbuster ends late fees in exchange for 'soul-reaping'
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Lawyers for Gitmo Detainees Lobby to Stop Calling Them “Gitmo” Detainees Fans Mourn First 30 Years of Puckett’s Life Serial Killer’s Neighbor: “He just wouldn’t shut up about serial killing.” R.C. Car Enthusiasts Angered by Latest Mars Mission Snub |
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 September 20, 2004
All She Wants to Do is DanceExhibit A:
Don Henley's 1984 hit "All She Wants to Do Is Dance"
Alternate-Universe Song Titles:
"The Way," "She's Oblivious to Her Surroundings," or "Bitch Snorted All My Traveler's Cheques Up Her Nose"
Separated at Birth:
Gary US Bonds, "She Just Wants to Dance"
Verdict:
All Don Henley wants to do is teach.
Lyric Sample:
And all she wants to do is dance
and make romance
She can't feel the heat comin' off the street
She wants to party (oooo)
She wants to get down (oooo)
And all she wants to do is-
And all she wants to do is dance
Analysis:
To the listener of average intelligence, and by average I mean low, and by low I mean lower than a hummingbird zipping under a snake's anus, this song's lyrics make not one iota of rational sense. Where does this narrator go for a vacation, Beirut? And who'd he bring with him, Jennifer Beals? Though the close proximity of this album's debut and the release of the Beals epic Flashdance makes this one of a handful of intriguing possibilities, one oughtn't mistake serendipity for kismet in this instance. So then, what? Is dancing just a metaphor for something else in this song's supposititious world? Sex? Drugs? Who is this woman, a hooker? A dope addict? A hooking dope addict? A doping hook ad- you get my point. "Dance" could mean...
º Last Column: Your Candor is Sickening º more columns
Exhibit A:
Don Henley's 1984 hit "All She Wants to Do Is Dance"
Alternate-Universe Song Titles:
"The Way," "She's Oblivious to Her Surroundings," or "Bitch Snorted All My Traveler's Cheques Up Her Nose"
Separated at Birth:
Gary US Bonds, "She Just Wants to Dance"
Verdict:
All Don Henley wants to do is teach.
Lyric Sample:
And all she wants to do is dance
and make romance
She can't feel the heat comin' off the street
She wants to party (oooo)
She wants to get down (oooo)
And all she wants to do is-
And all she wants to do is dance
Analysis:
To the listener of average intelligence, and by average I mean low, and by low I mean lower than a hummingbird zipping under a snake's anus, this song's lyrics make not one iota of rational sense. Where does this narrator go for a vacation, Beirut? And who'd he bring with him, Jennifer Beals? Though the close proximity of this album's debut and the release of the Beals epic Flashdance makes this one of a handful of intriguing possibilities, one oughtn't mistake serendipity for kismet in this instance. So then, what? Is dancing just a metaphor for something else in this song's supposititious world? Sex? Drugs? Who is this woman, a hooker? A dope addict? A hooking dope addict? A doping hook ad- you get my point. "Dance" could mean anything in this context, except of course for actual dancing. Because if that were case, then the song would just be stupid. Beefheaded. Duncical. And this is coming from the man who wrote "Take it Easy," so I'm disinclined to take that exegetical leap of faith.
But then, the question lingers. Why the gun-running theme? Did Don Henley get a little too wrapped up in the fact that the only job available to former members of the Eagles in the 80's was writing songs for Eddie Murphy movies? Sad this, if true.
Some believe the song to be written in protest of the U.S. government's involvement with the Contras in Nicaragua, and the dolorous popular American apathy to the government's actions and the plight of those wretched souls sucking up oxygen in the less-fortunate corners of our rondure. Could this hold the song's true meaning? Sure, if you only want to listen to the song on its most obvious, cursory level. If that be your wont, I'm not one to stop you. Assuming I could. You go ahead and have fun with your bubble gum and NASCAR, little soul. For discerning listeners, however, the song has a deeper hidden message.
They're pickin' up the prisoners and puttin' 'em in the pen
And all she wants to do is dance, dance
Rebels been rebels since I don't know when
And all she wants to do is dance
It has always seemed to me that this single verse of Henley's effectively serves to sweep away much of the nonsense that passes for "Western Thought," a thought that one is sometimes tempted to feel has always been in fundamental error about almost everything.
Molotov cocktail-the local drink
And all she wants to do is dance, dance, dance
They mix 'em up right in the kitchen sink
And all she wants to do is dance
Leave it to Henley to show us the simple, unvarnished truth about modern life. There are two kinds of people: those able to face the truth and those who prefer comforting illusions. The second group, which is by far the largest, will surely not like this verse at all, for it brings the very unwelcome news that man is merely an accidental product of evolution and that the only thing special about him is an explosive tenor for violence, for he is the Molotov cocktail of the evolutionary broth, hardwired with a destructiveness which will soon lead to his extinction.
Crazy people walkin' round with blood in their eyes
And all she wants to do is dance, dance
Wild-eyed pistol wavers who ain't afraid to die
And all she wants to do is dance
More of the same from the West's answer to Confusious and Mai Bop. Truly a verse to which to listen, ponder, rewind, and relisten. A suppressed masterpiece.
Well, the government bugged the men's room
in the local disco lounge
And all she wants to do is dance, dance
To keep the boys from sellin' all the weapons they could scrounge
And all she wants to do is dance
Readers should be aware that there have been several editions of this verse. In its original form, documented in several early bootleg recordings and Henley's own personal notes, the word "selling" was spelled out in its entirety, with the subtle truncation that would follow in the studio version shifting the crux of this song on its very axis, presumably the result of Henley bowing to lamentable commercial pressures. I've always preferred the purity of the song's original construction and meaning, as I'm sure have others.
But that don't keep the boys from makin' a buck or two
And all she wants to do is dance, dance
They still can sell the army all the drugs that they can do
And all she wants to do is dance
Here Henley pulls off the deft trick of turning around the looking glass, flipping the perspective and making the listener aware that they are, in fact, peering into the unfathomable depths of their own soul. After all, who has never compromised the very pillars of his humanity for a buck or two? We are, in other words, given not only text but context, that living context without some knowledge of which we will never be able to fully appreciate the brilliancies of these lyrics. One is left wondering just who is keeping this masterpiece off the airwaves. And why...?
Well, we barely made the airport for the last plane out
As we taxied down the runway I could hear the people shout
They said, "Don't come back here Yankee!"
But if I ever do- I'll bring more money
'Cause all she wants to do is dance
So puffed up are we with arrogance, so obsessed with the illusion that we are at the tip of a mythical 'evolutionary tree', so proud of our technical achievements (airplanes) and contemptuous of life forms which seem to get along without the aid of technology (non-Americans), it has become almost impossible for the average person to accept the fact that foreigners, far from being wholly other than us, are our fellows. What is required, then, is not knowledge but something far more difficult for us moderns - what is required is a shift of attitude, and a great deal of patience.
Ah, and finally the chorus! That beautiful thing, I can hardly bring myself to discuss the chorus as I've only heard it all too recently and haven't had time to recover my measured poise. Unfortunately I've also just been informed by the commune that I'll be unable to make this column any longer, as it has reportedly clogged their servers and has already run at greater length than some entire previous issues. Ingrateful wombats. Dr. Joyce Pickles, M.D.P.S.T., received her degree in psychology from U.S. Zoological College in Burnt Harbor, Maine. She contributes to the commune from time to time for the perverse, kinky thrill of slumming.º Last Column: Your Candor is Sickeningº more columns
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|  May 27, 2002
I Haven't Laughed that Hard Since Mom Killed DadI have to admit, when you fell off the top of that double-decker bus the other day, I couldn't help but laugh. Laugh and point. Then I laughed so hard I had to sit down. As a matter of fact, I haven't laughed that hard since mom shot dad in the head with that crossbow when we were kids.
Remember that? I'll never forget the look on dad's face, before he slouched forward, face-first, into his soup at the dinner table. Remember how the ass-end of the crossbow bolt that was sticking out of dad's head stabbed into a dinner roll, and then that roll was stuck to dad's head when his body flopped out of the chair and onto the floor? Holy shit! I peed myself, I really did. I'll never forget that. Dad was such a card.
And mom! Remember the look on the judge's face when mom gave him the finger during the trial? I've been held in contempt of court a couple of times, but that's the only time I've been arrested for laughing too loud. My stomach hurt for two days after that.
It reminds me of the first time I took you to a dance club, back when we were teenagers. You had your eye on that cute girl over at the bar and I talked you into going over to talk to her, remember that? I remember it like it was yesterday. You were so eager to meet her that you didn't watch where you were walking and somehow managed to step into the back of some girl's sandal who was walking in front of you. God knows you went down fast after that, but the best part was when you...
º Last Column: You and Me are Turkeys º more columns
I have to admit, when you fell off the top of that double-decker bus the other day, I couldn't help but laugh. Laugh and point. Then I laughed so hard I had to sit down. As a matter of fact, I haven't laughed that hard since mom shot dad in the head with that crossbow when we were kids.
Remember that? I'll never forget the look on dad's face, before he slouched forward, face-first, into his soup at the dinner table. Remember how the ass-end of the crossbow bolt that was sticking out of dad's head stabbed into a dinner roll, and then that roll was stuck to dad's head when his body flopped out of the chair and onto the floor? Holy shit! I peed myself, I really did. I'll never forget that. Dad was such a card.
And mom! Remember the look on the judge's face when mom gave him the finger during the trial? I've been held in contempt of court a couple of times, but that's the only time I've been arrested for laughing too loud. My stomach hurt for two days after that.
It reminds me of the first time I took you to a dance club, back when we were teenagers. You had your eye on that cute girl over at the bar and I talked you into going over to talk to her, remember that? I remember it like it was yesterday. You were so eager to meet her that you didn't watch where you were walking and somehow managed to step into the back of some girl's sandal who was walking in front of you. God knows you went down fast after that, but the best part was when you opened your mouth to scream on the way down and accidentally bit the girl you wanted to talk to on the arm. I couldn't believe my eyes! I was laughing so hard I cried. Boy, did you cock that up! I didn't even think it was possible to make a first impression like that. I swear I would have come to help you sooner but I fell down laughing while her boyfriend was kicking you in the head.
We've had some good times, you and me. We've shared a lot of laughs. Others haven't always understood our sense of humor, like the time when auntie Sue farted while she was choking on that marshmallow. I thought uncle Bill was going to smother you with a pillow when you started to hyperventilate from laughing so hard. But I understood. I would have been laughing harder myself except it was the last marshmallow and that meant no s'mores for me.
It figures that we'd get placed with a foster family that had no sense of humor at all. Life was totally wasted on those people. But hey, if they couldn't see the humor in the family dog being eaten by a lion at the zoo, then fuck 'em. Their loss. I swear, with all of their carrying on about who threw the dog over the fence I almost missed it when the lion coughed up his collar. Priceless.
I'll miss you buddy. You always knew how to make me laugh. Just like dad. I'll remember that every time I see some joker get run over by a bus, or think of those tire tracks we had carved into your headstone. Whenever I hear your laugh echoing down from heaven, I'll know somebody dropped a harp on their foot. And I'll be pissed that I missed it. º Last Column: You and Me are Turkeysº more columns
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Quote of the Day“Yawn and the world yawns with you. Fart and you fart alone.”
-Dr. FilbertFortune 500 CookieStop taking it so personally when everyone tells you how ugly you are. At least you're getting noticed. That breakfast cereal you made out of Tic Tacs sure has helped your breath, but next week our crystal ball shows a diagnosis for cancer of the everything. They say dogs are a good judge of character, and even dogs don't like your screenplay. This week's lucky Tims: Tiny Tim, Spazzy Tim, Him Tim, Tim and Tim Again, Phantom Tim, Tim Saved in a Bottle.
Try again later.Top 5 Worst States| 1. | Oklahoma | | 2. | Wyoming | | 3. | West Virginia | | 4. | Nevada | | 5. | Nebraska | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 6/23/2003 Crock 'a shitty-shit, America. Welcome back to Entertainment Police as we continue our wincing appraisal of this summer's ball-busting Hollywood lineup. Why the glum look? Have you been to the movies lately? This is the time of the year when the big Hollywood chicken is supposed to be taking a big golden shit on our faces, and instead we're getting a grunt and a shrug. Where's the summer love? Sure, X2 was an emancipating good time, but I've already forgotten everything that happened in that movie. The Matrix Rebooted? Yeah, I'll admit I loved it at first. That was before I realized it was the exact same movie as Cannonball Run 2. Nice try guys, you almost had us fooled there. But that bit of excitement went sour like egg salad left in the trunk all weekend. Now what...
Crock 'a shitty-shit, America. Welcome back to Entertainment Police as we continue our wincing appraisal of this summer's ball-busting Hollywood lineup. Why the glum look? Have you been to the movies lately? This is the time of the year when the big Hollywood chicken is supposed to be taking a big golden shit on our faces, and instead we're getting a grunt and a shrug. Where's the summer love? Sure, X2 was an emancipating good time, but I've already forgotten everything that happened in that movie. The Matrix Rebooted? Yeah, I'll admit I loved it at first. That was before I realized it was the exact same movie as Cannonball Run 2. Nice try guys, you almost had us fooled there. But that bit of excitement went sour like egg salad left in the trunk all weekend. Now what have we got to wax filmic about? And where the hell is Bruce Willis hiding these days? Somebody fire up the bat signal, we need some bald fury over here pronto!
In Theaters
28 Days Later
Finally somebody's had the balls to make a movie about what a major pain in the ass it is to get a rebate check when you buy something at an electronics store. You buy a printer or some floppy disks or Barbie Dress-Up software or something you don't really need because with the seven rebates together the thing ends up being free or they even owe you five bucks for hauling that crap away. Then you get all the junk home and you've got to write your whole life story fifteen times on pieces of paper each the size of a postage stamp, provide fourteen original receipts postmarked by October of 1982, then put several dozen stickers in the right boxes, find in the picture where they hid the teapot and the pair of scissors, bake a shrinky-dink and send the whole shebang to Guam. Then if you did everything perfect, six months later they cut you check or mail you a roll of pennies, whatever it is. I wouldn't know, I always screw up and draw the pirate instead of the turtle and they reject my application. Understandably they had to Hollywoodize the whole thing and make it twenty-eight days instead of six months, but that's understandable since nobody wants to go to the movies to be reminded of just how much their lives suck. Foreigners, maybe, but not Americans.
Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle
Leave it to Hollywood to take the sweet natured Peanuts gang and turn them into violent ass-kicking crime fighters. Now I love action as much as anybody, well maybe less than the president, but still more than most people, and I still thought it was weird to see Lucy, Sally and Peppermint Patty putting the smackdown on rogue blockheads left and right. Just didn't feel right, kind of like seeing Big Bird break a dude's neck. Plus there's the believability factor. I know girls are supposed to be tough and all these days, but how can you avoid getting your face punched in during a fight when your head's the size of a medicine ball? You'd think the bad guys could just tip them over and roll them down the street, their undersized Peanutsland bodies flopping helplessly to one side like the stem of a balloon. But whatever, the stunts and wirework were pretty good, and the Moby remix of the Peanuts theme was pretty righteous, I have to say.
Jet Lag
To tell the truth I'm getting kind of tired of Jet Li. He needs to kick an elephant's ass or something at this point to get my attention. Trying to pull off an unlikely romantic comedy with Helen Hunt definitely is not what Dr. Roland ordered. As a result this is one of those ironic film titles that is all too fitting, like Knock-Off or Waste of Money. Maybe the ladies know something I don't, and Lee's actually Brad Pitt or Luis Guzman-level good-looking or something, but for me he's only as good as the number of guys he can fold into a suitcase in 90 minutes. And even if you try to sneak that stuff into a romantic comedy, it's hard to justify after you've ass-kicked a few rude bellhops and stuffed a redneck truck driver into a pizza oven.
When Harry Met Lloyd: Dumb and Dumberer
Everybody knows Harry Houdini and Lloyd Bridges were great childhood friends; now that they've both kicked the toilet their story can finally be told without having to pretend like they were a couple of astrophysicists. While the title may be a little over the top, most eyewitness accounts confirm that these two were about as bright as the moon glare of off of Houdini's hairy ass. Unfortunately for viewers, the truth isn't always pretty, or particularly funny, and the film has one too many "I ate a King Don out of your ass while you were sleeping" jokes for its own good. And the fact that they went to the trouble to grow a freakish Jim Carrey clone in a petri dish to play Lloyd Bridges is just plain creepy.
We hope you enjoyed this trip down future-memory lane, I'm your host Roland McShyster and on behalf of Entertainment Police I'd like to wish you an enjoyable rest of your vacation and ask that you not fall into the water like a big idiot when you're getting off the boat. Ta ta!   |