|  | 
American Media Can Shut Up About Harry Potter Any Time NowNovember 26, 2001 |
Hollywood, CA Mite Yarnmouth/AP Harry Potter, who most Americans hope will magically disappear for like five seconds. pokespeople for the American media-consuming culture spoke Friday, sending out the word that we hear what you're saying about this Harry Potter phenomenon and the American media can lay off for a little while already.
Besieged by reports about the success of the hugely popular Harry Potter books by British author J.K. Rowling, the American public has recently been assaulted with constant unwanted information about the film Harry Potter and the Soceror's Stone, released Nov. 16, 2001 to monstrous audiences, making it one of the most successful movies of 2001.
"What are we, five?" said spokesperson for the American public Ralph Mackie.
"Yeah, okay, just shut up about the shit already, okay?" pleaded spokesperson Nancy Shumaker. "I know all ab...
pokespeople for the American media-consuming culture spoke Friday, sending out the word that we hear what you're saying about this Harry Potter phenomenon and the American media can lay off for a little while already.
Besieged by reports about the success of the hugely popular Harry Potter books by British author J.K. Rowling, the American public has recently been assaulted with constant unwanted information about the film Harry Potter and the Soceror's Stone, released Nov. 16, 2001 to monstrous audiences, making it one of the most successful movies of 2001.
"What are we, five?" said spokesperson for the American public Ralph Mackie.
"Yeah, okay, just shut up about the shit already, okay?" pleaded spokesperson Nancy Shumaker. "I know all about the movie and I don't give a rat's ass. I don't have any kids or nothing, what do you want me to do? Am I really supposed to care?"
Spokesperson John Umala empathized. "I just was starting to enjoy not hearing about friggin' Survivor every five seconds, then I'm blasted at every angle by terrorism. Can't I get a minute of peace without being slammed with over-hype on anything?"
When questioned about any possible chance of shutting the fuck up about it, executives at Warner Bros. declined to comment. No guarantees to stop talking about it for at least a minute were made.
The corporate-generated media hype is possibly the largest since 1999, when nearly every facet of the American media refused to give Star Wars: The Phantom Menace a rest, will you? the commune news really wants to hurt you, really wants to make you cry. Ted Ted is unable to stay dry-eyed through any episode of Little House on the Prairie, that Laura Ingalls was just so darling.
 | NAMBLA threatens to sue P2P child porn file sharers
 Polish Roof Falls in Following "Drinks Are on the House" Debacle Christ, you're 30 years old, get your finger out of your nose
Bloggers may effect presidential election… but don't bet on it
|
Lost Leaves Plotlines Half-Solved in Honor of Shooting Victims MySpace to Offer Breaking News on What Ira Mankovics is Doing Right Now Alec Baldwin Records Devastating Voice Mail Message for Shooter Sony’s Poorly Timed “PS3 Price Massacre” Backfires |
|  |
 | 
 July 11, 2005
A Martini for My Dead HomiesLadies and Gentleman, I'd like to bring things down for a minute, if that's okay with all of you. Make things a little somber. Bring up an unflattering truth, even if we're all reluctant to hear it, because that's what rap is about: Making us face the unpopular realities of the world.
A lot of us have lost friends in the Las Vegas-Atlantic City Coast Wars, haven't we? It's sad, I know. Why, a friend of mine, MC Charles Laser, he was one of the first to go down in the dispute. I'd like to have a little hand for him, if we can, MC Charles Laser! A good man, if I ever met one. One of the best Las Vegas show-stopping rappers you ever could hear. Taken in the prime of his showbiz life—he was only 47.
But you know, as great as Charles was, he's not the only one. A lot of us have lost homies on both sides of this senseless war. I'm not going to stand here and dis Atlantic City. There are many, many fine hip-hop artists out there, who perform some of the finest old school rap there is. Why, my very own DJ, DJ John Waterhouse, actually started with an Atlantic City act called Smilin' Wiley and the Funky Bunch. To dis Atlantic City is to dis my own blood. Is that hip? I think not.
The Atlantic City rappers do their own thing, and we here in Vegas do our own, too. Cappin' Crunch and I aren't likely to share the stage, but it's just because our acts are so different. I don't begrudge him his success. He deserves every penny he's earned...
º Last Column: More Than Words º more columns
Ladies and Gentleman, I'd like to bring things down for a minute, if that's okay with all of you. Make things a little somber. Bring up an unflattering truth, even if we're all reluctant to hear it, because that's what rap is about: Making us face the unpopular realities of the world.
A lot of us have lost friends in the Las Vegas-Atlantic City Coast Wars, haven't we? It's sad, I know. Why, a friend of mine, MC Charles Laser, he was one of the first to go down in the dispute. I'd like to have a little hand for him, if we can, MC Charles Laser! A good man, if I ever met one. One of the best Las Vegas show-stopping rappers you ever could hear. Taken in the prime of his showbiz life—he was only 47.
But you know, as great as Charles was, he's not the only one. A lot of us have lost homies on both sides of this senseless war. I'm not going to stand here and dis Atlantic City. There are many, many fine hip-hop artists out there, who perform some of the finest old school rap there is. Why, my very own DJ, DJ John Waterhouse, actually started with an Atlantic City act called Smilin' Wiley and the Funky Bunch. To dis Atlantic City is to dis my own blood. Is that hip? I think not.
The Atlantic City rappers do their own thing, and we here in Vegas do our own, too. Cappin' Crunch and I aren't likely to share the stage, but it's just because our acts are so different. I don't begrudge him his success. He deserves every penny he's earned for every record he's turned. Give it up for Cappin' Crunch now, everyone! That's it!
Which is why it just burns me up to hear some of these rappers—and they know who they are—these rappers who insist on saying derogatory things about their "opposition" on the other coasts. I heard a rapper right here in Las Vegas say MC PawPaw in Atlantic City was a perpetrator. Now, I've met MC PawPaw, people. He's no perpetrator. He's the real deal, and I'd stake my own professional reputation as an old school rapper on that. Las Vegas, Atlantic City, it's all good, friends.
Frankly, I think these negative rappers are just unimaginative. They have nothing good to say about anything, so they stoop to saying the worst things about other rappers. Other rappers, I might add, whom they know are class acts and possess talents superior to their own. That's what really burns them up. You can sling mud all you want, but that's not what rap is about. I rap about perpetrators, sure, but I never name names. That's just low-class, folks.
But you all know the negative rapping isn't even the worst of all this Las Vegas-Atlantic City rap war stuff. Friends have died. Homies have been lost. We all know the tragic story of DJ Sugar Cane, who was so distraught when he heard the negative things said about him in some "nameless" naysayer's rap, he lost control of his car and crashed. Died instantly—that's not right. Or Atlantic City's own P. Party, who was so tormented to read the mudslinging in Rap-Happy magazine, he took his own life. Sad. And there's the story of my friend MC Charles Laser, who became so infuriated, driven to near insanity by the slaps coming at him out of Atlantic City, he boarded a plane to fly out there and give them a piece of his mind. And that plane crashed upon take-off.
Too much blood has been shed already!
That's why I'm pouring a martini for my dead homies—on both coasts—and ask all of you to stop the insizzanity. Make rap, not war. º Last Column: More Than Wordsº more columns
| 
|  May 31, 2004
A Sharp-Dressed ManservantI recently acquired a manservant, and let me say, it's about time. I don't too often dredge up the personal details of my life—few people have the stomach to face the horrible truth about the emptiness of my world outside the commune. It's all work, work, work, although not quite as much work as all that. I tend to spend my time chasing conspiracies, like a lone Fox Mulder, only in the attire of a riverboat gambler and with more incoherent yelling.
I hired Rascal in an attempt to do more with my free time than work. Frankly, I don't think the Ultimate Conspiracy is unraveling any time soon, but I'll keep my eyes on it—never let it be said Red Bagel isn't vigilant. I can just be vigilant in fewer hours, because it's wearing my ass out.
If you looked up "manservant" in the dictionary, you would see a picture of Rascal right there on the page. Actually, the picture is next to the entry for Mansi, a people of the Ob River in Siberia, and I was looking in an encyclopedia. But that third fellow back looks dead on like Rascal. I hired him for his wonderful English accent, so classy and uptight. Then he told me he was from Australia, but it's close enough, as far as I'm concerned.
So finally, I have managed to tear myself away from the office. In a metaphorical sense, this is not another complaint about the vinyl seats on those summer days I wear short shorts. Rascal suggested we go out and update my wardrobe, get something with more...
º Last Column: Darth Nader º more columns
I recently acquired a manservant, and let me say, it's about time. I don't too often dredge up the personal details of my life—few people have the stomach to face the horrible truth about the emptiness of my world outside the commune. It's all work, work, work, although not quite as much work as all that. I tend to spend my time chasing conspiracies, like a lone Fox Mulder, only in the attire of a riverboat gambler and with more incoherent yelling.
I hired Rascal in an attempt to do more with my free time than work. Frankly, I don't think the Ultimate Conspiracy is unraveling any time soon, but I'll keep my eyes on it—never let it be said Red Bagel isn't vigilant. I can just be vigilant in fewer hours, because it's wearing my ass out.
If you looked up "manservant" in the dictionary, you would see a picture of Rascal right there on the page. Actually, the picture is next to the entry for Mansi, a people of the Ob River in Siberia, and I was looking in an encyclopedia. But that third fellow back looks dead on like Rascal. I hired him for his wonderful English accent, so classy and uptight. Then he told me he was from Australia, but it's close enough, as far as I'm concerned.
So finally, I have managed to tear myself away from the office. In a metaphorical sense, this is not another complaint about the vinyl seats on those summer days I wear short shorts. Rascal suggested we go out and update my wardrobe, get something with more earth tones. I don't mind telling you I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman that day, if that's not too weird. It was fun trying on all those clothes and seeing how dapper I could look, like a real gentleman, when I went crazy in the most expensive stores in town. Of course, we didn't buy anything, their prices were shithouse, but when they found out I had tried on the underwear they let me keep every pair.
A man of many talents, Rascal also cooks. His Eggos are the finest to be found anywhere, and he makes all his syrup himself. Actually, he makes it by combining stolen bottles of syrup from IHOPs and Denny's, but as far as I'm concerned that's his creative license. True, it would be nice if he made more than Eggos and syrups, or the occasional burnt pop tart, but never let me be called greedy, sir.
One of the best things about Rascal is his thirst for work. Yes, no one works harder if you stand right there the entire time while the task is to be done—and don't take your eyes off that one, or he'll slip off to nap under a sequoia. But assuming you keep him under constant surveillance, no one works harder. We worked together all day last weekend building a chicken farm, including the chickens, from the ground up. At least we did until Rascal mysteriously disappeared. I found him at the end of the day, but in spite of all that work, he looked well-rested. Put two and two together with me, folks.
But I don't want you to think the Red Bagel house is a dictatorship. It's at least as democratic as the Bush administration. Rascal and I spent all Saturday partaking of his favorite pastime, underground death racing. It's not quite as fun as building a chicken farm, but there's a certain amount of exhilaration watching a car explode right in front of you, showering you with shrapnel and body parts. Suffice to say, we'll be a dictatorship from now on. All the same, I highly recommend getting an English-Australian manservant to all of you who are not poor. º Last Column: Darth Naderº more columns
|

|  |
Quote of the Day“Christ on a bike! Did anybody else see that guy that looked just like Jesus Christ riding by on a bicycle a minute ago?”
-LeVonn MarthersFortune 500 CookieLast week was your best week; sorry we're late getting to you about that. From here on out, your life's gonna be shit on chips. Your dreams of becoming a major baseball star will be derailed this week by the fact that you couldn't hit a cow in the ass with a shovel. Stop using the term "Gay Bash," at once: it does not mean a fun party for homosexuals. This week's lucky Bings: Crosby, Chandler, Bada, cherries, the sound of a superball being shot out of an air cannon into an old woman's neck flap.
Try again later.Least Requested Christmas Gifts| 1. | Sleepover at Neverland Ranch | | 2. | Likes-it-Rough Elmo | | 3. | Virtual Crackbaby | | 4. | Inoperable Brain Tumor | | 5. | Hot Toddy, the hottest doll of 1922 | | 6. | New Matrix sequels | | 7. | Saddam Hussein action figure with Hideaway Hovel playset | | 8. | Online Predator Chat for X-Box Live | | 9. | Four More Years | | 10. | No Hope for the Holidays, an all-star Christmas Depression | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Orson Welch 3/8/2004 I skipped the Oscars last Sunday, choosing instead to watch the only awards show that matters—the Orson Welch Outstanding Achievements in Cinema Excellence Web Broadcast. It was a little Flash presentation I put together, with all my favorite celebrities, including Agnes Moorehead and Crispin Glover. Not the real celebrities, but amazing likenesses just off enough so as to avoid litigation. Of course, nobody won, since no impressive films were nationally released this year, but you have to admire the untouchable integrity of the awards. That aside, onto the next two weeks worth of DVD releases.
On DVD
Schindler's List
It's against the law in Germany to display Nazi articles these days, and I think out...
I skipped the Oscars last Sunday, choosing instead to watch the only awards show that matters—the Orson Welch Outstanding Achievements in Cinema Excellence Web Broadcast. It was a little Flash presentation I put together, with all my favorite celebrities, including Agnes Moorehead and Crispin Glover. Not the real celebrities, but amazing likenesses just off enough so as to avoid litigation. Of course, nobody won, since no impressive films were nationally released this year, but you have to admire the untouchable integrity of the awards. That aside, onto the next two weeks worth of DVD releases.
On DVD
Schindler's List
It's against the law in Germany to display Nazi articles these days, and I think out of extra guilt they also forbade negative reviews of this 1993 black-and-white guilt trip. Usually I love mopey, film noir cinema, but Spielberg uses sentiment like Cajuns cook with cayenne pepper. Gentiles who sit through it more than once are officially absolved of any wrongdoing in thousands of years of religious oppression. But giving the film credit, it is a harrowing vision of the struggle and spirit of the Jewish people, and how they needed a Catholic kraut to be the subject of a film to really tell the rest of the world their story.
Mona Lisa Smile
Apparently the cause of Mona Lisa's smile was indeed flatulence. Portraits never quite accurately capture those little facts. But this film pays that notion homage with this cinematic squirt in the pants that dredges up the Dead Poets Society genre yet again, this time packed wall to wall with the XX gender. Julia Roberts makes for the perfect film lead in the movie, except for the fact you never buy any school would certify her as a teacher. Her politically-correct way of looking at things years before they invented politically-correctness wins over the vapid student body made up of popular young actresses whose names I haven't bothered to look up. It's worth seeing, if you're writing a graduate thesis on cinema cliché. Otherwise, not on a bet.
21 Grams
Alejandro González Iñárritu is a brilliant director—not good, mind you, but brilliant. It was sheer genius to call a sloppily-edited film an artistic exercise in the use of chronological time. I can easily see how the film-illiterate would believe it. The rest of us in the know, however, smile and wink at each other while watching this nonsensical examination of the human spirit starring Oscar mantles Sean Penn and Benecio Del Toro. The director pushes the boundaries of unpolished, lazy filmmaking and gets off scot-free, though I wouldn't equate that to a good movie, of course. I tip my hat to him, though I won't write his name out again because I nearly sprained a finger trying to type it the first time.
That's all our two-week session allows this week. I think you're all getting better, but I'd like to see you for a few more years to make sure your tastes don't backsliding again. There is a new Owen Wilson and Ben Stiller movie doing quite well at the box office, so apparently some people are still in need of tutelage. Good viewing, America.   |