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McCartney, Bradshaw to TourRock artists collide big time in musical explosion February 18, 2002 |
New Orleans,LA Courtesy Schizophrenic Dan The greatest duo since Coverdale-Page?
The response to the pairing of Bradshaw and McCartney for an impromptu version of "A Hard Day's Night" during the Super Bowl halftime activities was nothing less than overwhelming. The phone lines at Fox were lit up for virtually the entire second half of the game with viewers asking where they might be able to pur...
ith the rousing success of their recent surprise duet at the Super Bowl, entertainers Terry Bradshaw and Sir Paul McCartney have announced that they are going on tour together soon, and will play major stadium and arena dates in selected cities across America. McCartney, former front man for the band Wings and alleged ex-Beatle, was quoted as saying that he "very much enjoyed Terry's fresh approach to lyrics. He plays fast and loose with the words, and I like that."
The response to the pairing of Bradshaw and McCartney for an impromptu version of "A Hard Day's Night" during the Super Bowl halftime activities was nothing less than overwhelming. The phone lines at Fox were lit up for virtually the entire second half of the game with viewers asking where they might be able to purchase a copy of the song as sung by the two well known personalities. The ragged vocals and fractured lyrics caused many of those inquiring to ask about "that punk-rock song about the hard day's dog" the two had sung. Callers were told that, unfortunately, there was no recorded version available at that time. Spokesmen for both McCartney and Bradshaw hinted that they may spend some time in the studio together soon to rectify that situation, however.
"The other thing I like about this arrangement," said McCartney, "is that, ever since Linda died, I've been looking for someone to sing backup on 'Hey Jude' like she did. Up until now, I hadn't met anyone who had that kind of vocal range and musical intuitiveness that she had. But Terry's 'nah nah nah naaah's' have that certain je ne sais quois that I've been looking for."
Asked for further comment, Bradshaw responded excitedly in a language that was completely unintelligible, waving his arms and gesticulating wildly. His eyebrows shot up and down his tall forehead, his eyes bugged completely out and his tongue seemed to take on a life of its own as it rolled and flopped around in and out of his mouth. "Blah-dah boogah wah wah wah! Hibbidy dibbidy woogah! Manalanna frack!" Bradshaw apparently said. the commune news already knows that the answer to the question "What lives on a farm and has three legs?" is "Paul McCartney and his fiancee," so don't even bother asking. Stigmata Spent thinks that jokes about cripples are lame.
 | Taking the Fifth Sweeps the Criminal NationIn: "It's my right not to testify." Out: "I did it." February 18, 2002 |
Salt LakeCity, Lochsen Bagel Non-talking alleged criminal about to get a royal talking-to.
Popularized by the wave of Enron and Arthur Andersen officials taking the Fifth in front of the current Congressional probe, "Fifthing"—as those in the know are calling it now—has become the fashionable way to respond to charges. Fifthing has long been the preferred manner of defense for white collar suspects and political figures undergoing questioning, but lately it's extending far beyond.
"Nearly 30 of our suspects in questioning have taken the Fifth Amendment this week," said New York Cit...
riminals are usually the last ones to be on the front of a trend-setting movement, being sheltered away in their underworld subculture or prison. But the hippest of hip are entirely accused criminals, and most have latched on to a new fad—invoking the Fifth Amendment.
Popularized by the wave of Enron and Arthur Andersen officials taking the Fifth in front of the current Congressional probe, "Fifthing"—as those in the know are calling it now—has become the fashionable way to respond to charges. Fifthing has long been the preferred manner of defense for white collar suspects and political figures undergoing questioning, but lately it's extending far beyond.
"Nearly 30 of our suspects in questioning have taken the Fifth Amendment this week," said New York City police sergeant Michael Rosen. "Ranging from domestic abuse cases to drug trafficking and murder suspects. It's a popular defense right now."
"I am invoking my Fifth Amendment rights against self-incrimination," said alleged murderer Ricky "Bollweevil" Hines to three detectives questioning him. Hines was found with a bloody axe in the apartment of a hooker, who was found dismembered and clearly labeled by body parts in her own freezer. Charged with the murder, Hines appeared disappointed and could only shake his head, adding, "I hope that after making the agonizing decision to take the Fifth, it doesn't appear to others like I am guilty of the crime I've been accused of."
"The Fifth Amendment is there to protect the innocent man against self-incrimination," said accused shoplifter Boot Martin. "Perhaps a few weeks ago I would have reacted differently to the charges against me, but after much soul-searching and consideration, I am taking the advice of counsel and Fifthing—I mean, invoking my rights according to the Constitution. I will not incriminate myself. Let the eyewitnesses and that lousy videotape do it."
"It really doesn't change much," said Law Professor Dershall Alanowitz. "Either you confess or you plead not guilty. Most of the time the accused doesn't elect to take the stand against themselves or anything, no surprise there. Kenneth Lay just took an old hat and gave it a cool new feather."
Much of the buzz surrounding the Fifth Amendment comes from the Enron hearings and the parade of Enron officials, most notably former Enron CEO Kenneth Lay, who all took the Fifth rather than answer questions from senators on the committee. Lay, once finished delivering a practiced speech declining to answer questions and announcing he'd invoke the Fifth Amendment, was then subject to harsh insults and jibes by the Congressional Committee. Sen. Ernest Hollings (D., South Carolina) implied Lay's tie was purchased cheap at a K-Mart sidewalk sale. While Sen. John McCain (R., Arizona) stated Lay should be tried for crimes against humanity for his shoes alone.
Like most fads, criminologists and law experts believe it will pass quickly.
"Before too long," said Professor Alanowitz, "criminals will be back to confessing and telling their stories at length, for movies of the week and hot tell-all books. And Fifthing will be as out of date as Ken Lay's suit. Did you see that number? Ike called, he wants his burial wear back." the commune news is only too happy to incriminate itself, and invites you along for the ride. Ivan Nacutchacokov wants everyone to know the musical he's writing about his life is coming along fabulously, except for the music part, and the words could use a little work.
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 February 18, 2002 My Reality Shows Rock Hardthe commune's Steven Carlson keeps it real You should take a trip into my world some time. I think you'd be pleasantly surprised. Every night before I go to sleep, I close my eyes and stroll into the kingdom of my own imagination, a fuck-yeah world that's like some kind of fantastic movie or something. It's an awesome place. Nobody has to work, nobody has to ride the bus, and all the chicks are alotta hot. Not to mention that they're all over me like, well you know, like hot chicks on a rich guy. But most importantly, in my world, we don't have any of these candy-assed reality shows that you see on TV here. Survivor? The Mole? That crap is for kids who think eating worms is cool. In my world the reality shows rock, and you know they rock hard.
Probably the most popular reality show in my world is called Feeb ...
º Last Column: Say What You Will, But I Still Don't Like Midgets
º more columns
You should take a trip into my world some time. I think you'd be pleasantly surprised. Every night before I go to sleep, I close my eyes and stroll into the kingdom of my own imagination, a fuck-yeah world that's like some kind of fantastic movie or something. It's an awesome place. Nobody has to work, nobody has to ride the bus, and all the chicks are alotta hot. Not to mention that they're all over me like, well you know, like hot chicks on a rich guy. But most importantly, in my world, we don't have any of these candy-assed reality shows that you see on TV here. Survivor? The Mole? That crap is for kids who think eating worms is cool. In my world the reality shows rock, and you know they rock hard. Probably the most popular reality show in my world is called Feeb Factor. Imagine this, if you can: How will three different pharma-doped-up old farts with high blood pressure and veins as thin as crepe paper react when they're subjected to increasingly stressful and radical environments? The top tier involves making a mad-dash across a football field with a summer sausage stitched to your throat while a pack of crazed, starving German shepherds are released right on your goddamned heels. Keep in mind that you only get this privilege after you've passed the second-most-gnarly fear test, where everybody has to sleep with this nasty old hooker who's like a potluck of weird sex diseases, only some of which are known to science. Some of the middle levels are especially sweet, too. There's one where you glue your face to a wolf's ass and get thrown down a bobsled run wearing only a pair of sneakers. How wicked is that? Or how about the one where you get shot out of a cannon into a gigantic man-made beehive that instead of bees is full of serial killers? Or the one where you have to climb a skyscraper in a hurricane using a rope made of live rats? Holy shit! But to be honest none of the old bastards ever make it past the "parallel parking" test at the beginning. One lady even had a brain aneurysm while they were introducing her to the studio audience. It's a shame, really. But there are some joke challenges they throw in that are pretty killer, like having to run naked into a bank and withdraw $50 to buy some pants. Or one time they stapled all the foges to the studio floor and had them reenact that hilarious "I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up!" show from the 80's. The next most popular reality show in my world is called Temptation Island of the Cannibal Sluts. Six average guys are let loose on the island, just looking to score. Only one comes back. Actually, usually none of them come back but it doesn't seem to hurt ratings, and Arby's has a tie-in promotional deal for a pretty choice sandwich. One time a guy came back but he'd just spent the whole time recording birdcalls, I don't know what his problem was. One season they tried doing Temptation Island in Manhattan, with the whole island as the set, but that just got confusing as one guy ended up with a family, another got engaged to a drag queen and the others were all hacked up by the Meat Market Killer. Cool idea though. Another popular reality show in my world is Big Brother, which sounds familiar, but it's actually way cooler than you think. On this one, contestants are assigned an immature, muscle-bound and nearly psychotic older brother who belittles them in front of their friends, pushes them around and tries to score with their girlfriends when they're at band practice. The first one to crack and split open their Big Brother's head with a jack-handle wins. This is one that really hits home. So I don't think you have to waste any time arguing that this world's feeble reality programming can hold any kind of candle to the awesome shit I've got going on in my head. Maybe one day those TV people will wise up and come to me for ideas, but they seem to be the stubborn sort who will have to suffer through some pretty weak ratings before they wise up and decide to cash in the gold mine I've got going on upstairs. Incidentally, the movies in my world kick a lot more ass than the ones here do, too. If you haven't seen Allan Quarterbag and the City of Lost Couch Poofs, or Fuzzbumbers in Paradise, and I'm thinking you haven't since they've only played out on the vast theater screen in my imagination, you truly haven't enjoyed film. Sucks to be you, but you have my condolences. º Last Column: Say What You Will, But I Still Don't Like Midgetsº more columns | 
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Milestones1979: Some people call Red Bagel a space cowboy (wahnt-waaow). Ignorant to popular culture, Bagel burns his driver's license and spends two years living underground as Miguel Carlos Ferrina.Now HiringSmall Town Rube. Trustworthy innocent needed to flush gremlins out of elevator system. Competitive wage to be paid upon successful completion of duties. No Sci-Fi geeks, please. Most Painful Music Lawsuits| 1. | Christopher Cross vs. Kris Kross (1992) | | 2. | John Fogerty vs. John Fogerty (1985) | | 3. | Warner Bros. vs. Pri.. The Ar.. That Guy Over There in the Pastel Pants (1994) | | 4. | Michael Jackson vs. Insane Kahlil's Rhinoplasty (1987) | | 5. | The Ghost of Nat "King" Cole vs. Natalie Cole (1991) | |
|   Milosevic Sports New Mustache For Trial BY roland mcshyster 2/18/2002 What it is, America? Welcome back to the long and lonely road of Entertainment Policing. You've probably heard about most of what's gone down since the last installment of this column, including the restraining order placed against yours truly by Saul Worthington of the Bronx, New York. Sometimes the path to the truth can be littered with hardship and legal fees, that's all I have to say about that. But the important thing is that we're back, and ready with another two-weeks' worth of vital editorial nuggets pertaining to the entertainment choices you, the valued reader, must make on a regular basis. But before we get to that, how about we set the mood with a tall, cool glass of Ask Roland? No? Alright, but don't come crying to me when you wake up in the middle of the night hungry for Ask...
What it is, America? Welcome back to the long and lonely road of Entertainment Policing. You've probably heard about most of what's gone down since the last installment of this column, including the restraining order placed against yours truly by Saul Worthington of the Bronx, New York. Sometimes the path to the truth can be littered with hardship and legal fees, that's all I have to say about that. But the important thing is that we're back, and ready with another two-weeks' worth of vital editorial nuggets pertaining to the entertainment choices you, the valued reader, must make on a regular basis. But before we get to that, how about we set the mood with a tall, cool glass of Ask Roland? No? Alright, but don't come crying to me when you wake up in the middle of the night hungry for Ask Roland! You made your bed, now on to the reviews!
In Theaters Now:
Crossroads
As part of the deal that Hollywood struck with a devil on a moonlit night back in 1927, every ten years or so they're required to put out a movie called Crossroads.
And over the years they've delivered, starting with the 1929 French truffle of the same name, continuing with the 1931 Ruskie animated flop, then the 1942 Basil Rathbone picture that succeeded solely on the merits of having an actor with a very cool name on the marquee, then there were the famously forgettable "Crossroads" films of 1955 and 1957, Bruce Conner's revival of the genre in 1976 (notice that there was no "Crossroads" film during the 60's, and look at what happened then), then after that it was ten years on the nose until Ralph Macchio's 1986 film about a blues guitarist who definitely doesn't know karate, and finally the 1996 version about a man tying his shoe that was released to only one theater in Missouri, merely to keep up the bargain.
Well, the Hollywood big-wigs are trying to make sure that doesn't happen again, and are jumping the gun early in releasing this decade's version of a lousy movie called Crossroads. This time it stars Britney Spears, everyone's favorite virgin, who I'm beginning to suspect may have made some kind of deal with the devil herself. How else can you explain the legions of 13 year-old Britney clones that clog our shopping malls and amusement parks like the backwash of brine shrimp out of a whale's ass? Sorry honey, but I think it's time to side-step your creaky old tush out of the limelight to make room for some fresh young talent. I hear there's a singing 10 year-old from West Virginia who can put her legs behind her head, you know.
Big Fat Liar
What's funnier than Jim Carrey running around like he's retarded and not being able to tell a lie? You guessed it, a 300 pound Jim Carrey running around like he's retarded and not being able to tell a lie. They promised the sequel would be bigger than the original, but none of us dared to think they were talking about Carrey's drooping leg fat. And yeah, it's pretty funny, but I have to admit it's the ultimate insult when Hollywood would rather dress up attractive people in fat suits than hire one of the many genuinely fat people available for the role.
Dragonfly
Strange new Kevin Costner flick about a doctor who's wife dies and is reincarnated as a dragonfly. Costner's character tries every kind of new-age chicanery to contact his dead wife, not knowing that she was the slightly greenish discoloration on the windshield of his Beemer all along.
Peter Pan 2: Return to Nevermind
Man, when Disney cuts a budget, they cut a budget. Not only did they shamelessly rehash one of their all-time classics by re-arranging the original footage and inserting a computer-animated wisecracking bedpan, they didn't even spring for an original score for the film. Instead, Disney's latest effort is set to Nirvana's 1991 breakthrough album, Nevermind. A great album, but talk about your bizarre creative choices! You can bet there are going to be some tykes choking on their Cow Tails when they come to the theater expecting to hear "You Can Fly!" and instead they get "Territorial Pissings." It really makes me wonder if there's anyone manning the big magic flying ship over there at Disney. If there is, they must have slept through their alarm because I think the magic boat just crashed into a Kmart.
Queen of the Damned
I've always assumed that when you walk through the gates of Hades, they'll have Queen playing at an uncomfortable volume. Apparently I'm not the only one who felt this way, since the band's first exploitation film has them booked on a sold-out tour of hell. Spankingly gay frontman Freddie Prinz Jr. eats up the screen in his musical film debut, and gets some of it stuck in his mustache. They didn't really say either way in the movie, but I've always imagined Queen would have the Village People opening for them on their tour of hell. Partly because I've long suspected they're actually the same band.
Now on Video:
13 Ghosts
What's scarier than a dozen ghosts but not quite as scary as fourteen? That's right, F. Murray Abraham. Striking the same perfect balance of creepy menace he found in Scarface, without going overboard by being hysterically, pants-shittingly scary, Abraham turns in his best performance since he played himself in The Phantom Emancipation Proclamation.
Bones
Is space-doctor turned gangsta-rapper D-Forest Kelley ready for the transition to big-screen leading man? I don't know, you might have to ask him yourself, but he sucked in this one. Even with Pam "Foxy-Boxing" Grier getting his back, I still wasn't able to believe in him as an action stud, and the attempted turns on his trademark catchphrase ("I'm not a role model, I'm a space-doctor.") ranged from the unintentionally funny to the downright pathetic.
J.Lo and Silent Bob Strike Back
They really need to beef up security on Hollywood movie sets these days, because I'm starting to feel like you can't see a movie anymore that doesn't have some clueless pop star wandering in front of the camera and gumming up the works. Sometimes they even play along like they're actually in the movie, it's pathetic. Here we have what would have been a fun family film that's totally spoiled by J.Lo and her pottymouthed antics. What kind of nickname is J.Lo, anyway? Can I get that with fruit in it?
Television:
It's nice to know even when the movies whip it out and piss all over you there's still trust old television and it's top shows to turn to. Except for the Olympics have taken a dump on my TV. So, covered in every kind of bodily waste, I sum up the highlights of the Olympics.
Marguerita Mixing
Ice sculpting is fun, but what do you do when it's done? A giant ice squirrel is about as useful as... no, stop that snide comment, there's absolutely nothing else more useless. Anyway, the Olympics have done good this year, getting the world's top lushes to come in and see how fast they can pound down the sculptures into a fine drink cooler. Roland M. will be playing along at home.
100-Meter Slip-N-Fall
Usually instead of professional athletes this competition is made up of political prisoners and dissidents. They give them two minutes to get across an icy tundra with greased feet and if they make it, they get a commuted sentence. I watch it not so much for the rousing Olympic spirit and athletic prowess as the funny falling down and busting of asses.
Ice Diving
Anybody can execute a perfect slice into water, but it takes one major bad-ass to cut through solid ice. In fact, it's never actually done. Most countries don't participate in this rare event, but the ones who do definitely have dedicated athletes. The highlight for me was China's Ting Wa Noon, who actually broke the ice. He'll probably be awarded the bronze, posthumously.
Video Games:
Simpson's Road Rage (GC, PS2, XB)
Shows how anything is funny, given a few years. The craziest racing games out there features you as O.J. Simpson circa 1994, running from the law with a gun to your head, driven by loyal buddy A.C. You have to escape the law so you can prove your innocence and catch the real killers.
Jonny Moseley: Bad Trix (GBA)
What luck is that? That stupid rabbit spends years trying to get a hold of the cereal just to find out it's poison for rabbits. Now you've got 24 game hours to find a vet and get fixed. Not a real blast, but it was interesting to find out the rabbit was named Jonny. You think they could've made that more obvious in the commercials.
Drackin' II
Nauseating game about a skateboarder who got a hold of a bad Jack in the Box burger and has his tricks and jumps interrupted by violent bouts of vomiting. Can't decide whether it wants to be a skateboarding or a vomiting game, but neither one is very good. Reminded me of my own visits to Tainted Burger, though.
Well, faithful readers, according to USDA regulations that's all I can give you for this week. Be sure to tune back in a few weeks from now for more of your beloved entertainment vittles. Until then!   |
