Issue 52:
Escaping Life
By
Rascal Stallion
The Happening
Another M. Night
Movie makes us wonder if
He just stole Sixth Sense
The Incredible Hulk
Fooled once, shame on me
Fooled twice, shame on, uh, fool me
Won’t get fooled again
The Love Guru
Myers talks funny
His character is wacky
Seen it all before
Get Smart
Remaking old shows
Rarely good idea. Bet they
Missed it by that much
Wanted
Lots of bullets fly
Ridiculous action scenes
Hope its dark as comic
Wall-E
Can robot find love
In this great big universe?
Hope he’s got some lube.
Hancock
Will Smith hero flick
Can’t do this all on his own
He’s no Superman
Hellboy II: The Golden Army
Was the first Hellboy
Good enough to warrant a
Second installment?
Journey to the Center of the Earth
3-D makes films fun
Every film should be 3-D
Except Crying Game
Meet Dave
Has it really been
20 years since Eddie made
A funny movie?
The Dark Knight
Return to Gotham
Joker ain’t the only fool
To make this awesome
Mamma Mia!
Girl with slutty mom
Doesn’t know who daddy is
This just in: Who cares?
Step Brothers
Lets hope Ferrell tried
A little harder this time
Than in Semi-Pro
The X-Files: I Want to Believe
Wait just a second
Is there anyone out there
That still cares about this?
American Teen
This looks pretty good
But who wants to relive the
The awkward teen years
The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor
Another mummy?
Rachel Weisz wisely jumped ship
We should do the same
The Rocker
This looks funny but
Can Rainn carry a movie?
My guess is he can.
Swing Vote
Are we to believe
Diebold would let this guy choose
Who gets elected?
The Midnight Meat Train
This wins for the worst
titled film until Bangcock
Dangerous comes out
Pineapple Express
Stoner movies aren’t
Usually good seen straight but
This could be funny
The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants
There’s no way these girls
Can still fit after gaining
The freshman fifteen
Tropic Thunder
Downey Jr. rules
But can he stay afloat with
Stiller and Jack Black
Star Wars; The Clone Wars
Lucas craps out more
Star Wars and I have no choice
but to go see it
Issue 43:
Escaping Life
By
Rascal Stallion
Through my friend’s misfortune I was the lucky recipient of a free trip to Fabulous Las Vegas. Here’s a recap of my time in the greatest city Nevada has to offer:
Our flight arrived a little after Midnight on Thursday. After a taxi ride to our hotel and a quick change of clothes we were off to see what the strip had to offer. Famished, our first stop was Fatburger where by 1:30 I wolfed down a big ass burger with egg, cheese and bacon on it. It was so good I didn’t mind the month or so it shaved off my life expectancy.
We saw a guy in Fat Burger who looked just like former Buffalo Bill Thurman Thomas. He had the right build and his face was a perfect match. I don’t think it was him, though, since he wore no jewelry and the lady he was with was about 20% as pretty as his wife.
With full bellies we started off down the Strip making stops in each of the casinos along the way. We’d gamble a little bit here and a little bit there and were sure to make sure we drank a lot. When walking like that you must be very careful not to get dehydrated. I don’t know if I just never noticed before or if there really were more hookers out but we saw whores everywhere.
As someone who used to enjoy the Aladdin I was more than a little apprehensive about its transition into Planet Hollywood. I may not like the changes they made to the Desert Passage shopping area but there are some very nice differences to the casino. A new gambling area called the Pleasure Pit is about as perfect a gaming environment as I could imagine. There are eight tables grouped together with smoking hot dealers in their underwear and at either end of the table is a pedestal with another girl in her undies wriggling to the music. The bet limits on the tables were too rich for my blood but if I was more of a high roller you can bet where I’d be. Adjacent to the Pleasure Pit is a new bar called The Love Bar that has several of those same dancing girl pedestals throughout.
We spent the next few hours gambling up and down the strip. I had a particularly nice streak of luck at the Venetian but neither my buddy nor I managed to win a car at a slot machine no matter how hard we tried. After traveling up and down the strip we finally ended up back in the room a little after 5. I soaked my aching feet in the bathtub and then made some phone calls to friends who I knew would be just heading to work back home.
We got up about 11 the next morning and took the monorail down to the Hilton. On the monorail I watched a group of old people eating Worther’s Originals and going on and on about how good they were. I couldn’t believe my luck. I love it when I get to see stereotypes play out in real life.
After messing around at the Hilton we walked up to the Riveria. After fiddling about there for a while we were drawn across the street to Slots O’ Fun by their gigantic 99-cent hot dogs. One sign claimed the dogs were 1/2 lb and another that they were 12oz. I don’t know, but either way it was a gigantic wiener. I managed about three bites and couldn’t do anymore. My buddy managed to eat the whole thing but everyone knows he likes wieners a lot more than me.
After lunch we went next door to Circus Circus. We didn’t do any gambling there but rather headed upstairs to the carnival games. I dominated the game where you slam the frog with a hammer and send it flying into a pot. We didn’t want to carry the prizes around though, so we gave them to some loser kids who were watching us and couldn’t win their own.
After some more gambling and drinking and some time at the car museum in the Imperial Palace we went back to the room to get changed into some nicer clothes. We had a big night ahead of us what with the Little Legends show we had tickets to.
Little Legends sounded like fun but in reality was far and away the worst show I’ve ever seen in Vegas. It was advertised as a midget celebrity impersonator show but that is a generous description. They had one girl midget who just continually changed costumes. She played Alanis Morrissette, Cher, Britney Spears and maybe a few others. She sang along to an accompaniment track. Her routine would commonly be called karaoke. She was a little bit sexy though, and was the highlight of the show. Another performer was a white male midget who played drums along with a Motley Crue song. They said he was Tommy Lee. Later in the show he would reappear as Sonny Bono. The final two midgets were black males who danced as Michael Jackson and Milli Vanilli. That was fitting since the most appropriate description of the male performers would be lip-synching. Round out the cast was a full-sized terrible hack of a magician who mc’d the show. The final act featured all the midgets dressed as the Village People only there were just four of them. We got the tickets for half price and I felt ripped off.
After the show we hit the buffet at Paris where I ate about $100 worth of crab before tackling the prime rib and dessert table. Holy cow that was a great meal.
After dinner we wandered the strip for another 6 or 7 hours making sure to make plenty of stops for gambling and booze. We made sure to spend another hour or so back in the Love Bar at Planet Hollywood. It really was about as good as it gets. I was sitting in a nice comfy chair throwing down White Russians and Witty Chucks. I was surrounded by lovely ladies wriggling in their underwear and when I got tired of watching that, I could look up at a giant screen replaying an NBA game from earlier that evening.
Thirty seven hours after landing we were taking off to go back home and I was glad I had a day to recover before going back to work. I’d like to especially thank the Venetian, the Sahara and New York, New York for helping me to come home with a bit more money than I came with.
Issue 38:
Escaping Life
By
Rascal Stallion
Many people never get to see their favorite bands perform live. They could be Beatles fans born in 1980 or Nirvana fans living in North Dakota. They could have gone so far as to buy tickets to see Tupac in October of ’96 or be Elton John fans who can’t afford to spend over $100 per ticket. There are many things that can keep us from the music we love.
Last week I was lucky enough to see my favorite band perform live. This was the sixth time I’d had such a privilege and I was grateful. Living in Oklahoma, about the only way you can see your favorite band that many times is to be a Steve Miller Band fan. Despite the fact that they’ve only played once in my hometown, (ten years ago), I was on my way to show number six.
This is the story of the time I watched the Counting Crows in Tulsa.
The Crows were doing a summer tour of baseball stadiums and made a stop in Tulsa at Driller Stadium. Now, I’ll admit that most of Tulsa is quite a bit cooler than my hometown of Oklahoma City, but compared to their minor league baseball stadium, ours looked like Uday’s Palace. What a dump.
It was late July and a 6:00PM start meant the temperature was still very high. This led to both positive and negative outcomes. The heat was uncomfortable and everyone was awfully sweaty. However, on the bright side, every pretty girl in Tulsa came out to the show and the heat ensured none were dressed in bulky sweaters.
As we parked and began walking towards the stadium the evening began on a decidedly sour note. A few steps from the car we saw a boy who couldn’t have been older than 16 take a big drink from a bottle of Jack and proceed to vomit all over the parking lot. It was so warm outside it wasn’t hard to imagine the barf sautéing on the smoldering asphalt.
The sounds of opening band Collective Soul filled the air as we entered the ballpark. We made a quick stop at the t-shirt stand but were quickly dissuaded by the prices. My wife didn’t want to fight the crowds of the infield so we settled into a seat in the bleachers with a nice view of the stage.
Collective Soul put on a solid rock show and the crowd received them warmly. I was surprised by how many of the songs I recognized from the radio. They made a very smart move when playing the obligatory new material no one cared about by going into an AC/DC medley in the middle of the song.
Collective Soul’s 45-minute, all-hit set was followed by another band I had heard plenty of on the radio, Third Eye Blind. TEB came out blazing and didn’t let up. Again I was impressed by how many radio hits this band has produced. A song I had heard many times but was particularly rocked by is their breakout hit “Semi-Charmed Life.” That song translated very well into the soundtrack for our open air party beneath the dwindling rays of the sun.
Sitting directly in front of us was a group of five less-than-attractive middle-aged women. In the break between bands my wife and I had a fun time trying to decide which of them we would “do” should we be forced to choose. She chose the gap-toothed brunette that walked with a cane. It was about fifteen minutes later when I realized the one I chose bore a striking resemblance to Aileen Wuornos. It was about this time we moved over to an adjacent section.
I was particularly impressed by how great both opening bands sounded. After seeing Cinderella in concert last summer and being shocked by how badly the singer’s voice has degraded it was nice to hear two bands still sound the way they are supposed to.
Whereas the first two bands came out heavy, the Counting Crows took a different approach. They calmly took the stage and then singer Adam Duritz proceeded to talk for about five minutes. Don’t get me wrong, talking about their progress on a new album and VH1 being there to film the show was interesting information. It just made for kind of a slow start to their set. Then, making their opening song a slow one from their yet-to-be-released album just about brought the night to a halt.
Ten minutes in, it seemed like this was going to be a less than stellar show. Then they announced they would be dusting off some old songs and Duritz revealed that his girlfriend had just broken up with him that afternoon and it started to feel like we might be on the verge of something special.
After the inauspicious start, the band really rounded into form and played with lots of emotion. The music was so good I felt like I had floated away from Tulsa and just kept sailing to a happier place. They followed “Perfect Blue Buildings” and “Mr. Jones” with the most heartbreaking arrangement of “Miami” I had ever heard. Song after beautiful song drifted through the night. Then, all too soon, Graham Colton came out to join the band on a spirited “Hanging Around,” signaling the end of the show. They played a couple of songs for an encore and then the night was over.
I hope this isn’t the last time I get to see the Counting Crows but in case it is, I can take solace in knowing that the last time was as good as they’ve ever been.
Issue 27:
Escaping Life
By
Rascal Stallion
I drove five hundred miles through a snowstorm so I could wait five hours in single-digit temperatures to watch assholes disrespect geniuses.
I am, of course, referring to last weekend’s Soulard Mardi Gras celebration in St. Louis, at which They Might Be Giants performed a free outdoor concert. For those of you who aren’t fortunate enough to have ever experienced Mardi Gras in St Louis it is essentially an event designed to allow every jack-off in a 4-state region to get drunk while they slowly freeze to death.
Thousands and thousands of revelers braved the cold for the right to vomit on the inch of snow as they gyrated to bad cover bands and hip hop music. No doubt, many attendees will fondly remember Mardi Gras as the greatest time of their lives. After all, Mardi Gras is the fantasy that every frat boy fan of Animal House dreams of. These are the parties that made Joe Francis a millionaire. Unfortunately, it was so cold this time that Girls Gone Wild would have had to hand out parkas instead of tank tops to get the ladies to flash their goods.
(Note- I know I could be coming across as some kind of prude, sheltered pussy. Maybe I am, but let the record also indicate that Las Vegas is my favorite vacation destination. I try to go a couple of times a year and I hit it really hard while I’m there. I’m not sure what the difference is between the two, other than the fact that Vegas is classy and Mardi Gras is just a bunch of drunken buffoons. Seriously, one comes from organized crime while the other comes from Christianity. Which one do you think is going to be cooler? In Vegas, the girls take their shirts off in elaborate shows or at least for wads of cash. At Mardi Gras all it takes is some beads. Have some respect for yourselves, ladies.)
After navigating our way through the throngs of revelers we finally found the main stage where the giants would be performing in a few hours. Unfortunately, an ass-clown cover band was in the middle of their set making it physically impossible to stay anywhere within earshot of the stage.
We began to wander aimlessly. It was so cold I eventually spent an hour looking for a tauntaun to slaughter. I was distracted when I spied a guy doing his best impression of Gary in the alley in Team America: World Police. A couple of fistfights and some sluts chatting up a guy in a hot dog suit also helped me pass some time.
Finally, as I desperately looked for a reprieve from my polar pain I resigned myself to the shelter of a port-a-potty. A strange liquid covered the floor that might have been human but it was only an inch deep so I chose to ignore it so I could savor the 10 degrees of warmth afforded by the toilet.
Eventually 6:30 rolled around. The moment we’d endured all this pain and discomfort for had finally arrived. We joined a few thousand other people crammed around the stage and watched They Might Be Giants perform. The nerds joined the “cool” people in a sea of one as the Giants began their set and engulfed us in their music.
The band started off fine but their play became sloppy, presumably as the cold robbed them of feeling in their fingers. It must have been distracting, too, being continuously pelted by beads.
Forty-five minutes into the set the stage lost power. In the ensuing 30 minutes as the crew struggled to regain power, the crowd nearly broke out into a riot. By the time power was eventually re-established, the Giants only had time to play four or five songs before they were up against the noise curfew.
As I walked back to the car I was saddened by the spectacle I had just witnessed.
They Might Be Giants cut their teeth in Brooklyn so they’ve no doubt played for tougher crowds and felt colder temperatures. That’s not the point. They deserved better. The imagination and intelligence that goes into crafting their songs was completely wasted on the crowd who only an hour before had been so enthralled by an off key cover of Sweet Child of Mine.
They deserve better than that and they deserved better than you, St Louis.
Issue 11:
Escaping Life
By
Rascal Stallion
“It is World War III down there. People are being killed.”
Does that line send a chill down your spine? Does a cry of “Wolverine!!!” whip you up into a purty good frenzy?
If you are a male between the ages of 25-35 those lines ought to mean something to you. They come from the classic 1984 film Red Dawn, a film that had a profound effect on an entire generation of adolescents. Cold War tension war running high in the United States and those fears were realized in the fictional exploits of a rag-tag band of high schoolers trying to survive a Soviet invasion.
No male within Red Dawn’s target audience was able to resist the urge to daydream about precisely what he would do should he find himself thrust in the same situation. Every boy calculated precisely where he would obtain weapons, which friends he would bring along, and where he would hide out.
Throw in the fact that this was the first movie ever released with the PG-13 rating and you’ve got a cinematic goldmine, evidenced by its outstanding opening weekend even though our nation’s attention was turned to the 1984 Olympic Games in Los Angeles.
Trey Parker and Matt Stone were clearly influenced by the film, as evidenced by the South Park episode “Grey Dawn.” Who can forget the chilling scene where Mr. Garrison is teaching the class about Genghis Khan as the AARP paratroopers are dropping in the background? Or the hair-raising Randy Marsh, behind the octogenarian’s prison camp fence, urging the boys to “AVENGE ME!!!?”
Additionally, several Red Dawn references can be heard on the radio in Grand Theft Auto: Vice City.
“John has a long mustache. The chair is against the wall.”
The diverse cast of characters gives the viewer plenty to relate to. Perhaps you see yourself in little brother Matt or political Darryl. Or maybe you can better relate to the young Danny, grizzled Colonel Andy, or one of the token girls. Most likely, everyone’s favorite character is either meek boy-turned-maniac Robert, or Swayze’s hair.
In the early days of World War III, guerillas - mostly children - placed the names of their lost upon this rock. They fought here alone and gave up their lives, so that this nation should not perish from the earth.
Thank you, Wolverines.
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