this segment of fool's goaled is gonna be devoted to shit you can't overcompress into an ipod or smoosh into a youtube link - specifically, analog media that hasn't been transferred into the matrix yet.
today we look to chess records, who just royally fucked-up their big shot at a biopic (cadillac records) by portraying etta james with beyonce, a woman who is neither puggish nor talented enough to fill james' cankled shoes. I'm not gonna see it, unless I'm on some kind of overseas flight that is showing the next jennifer aniston hunk of shit. then maybe. oh yeah, digital rubes. today you digital rubes get to learn about mitty collier, whom I'm positive wasn't even mentioned in that sad bastard of a movie.
mitty cut shades of a genius, her first LP for Chess, in 1963 at the age of 23. the song "I had a talk with my man last night" was the breakout single of the 12 tracks, a video of which can be seen here (asterisk piano not listed in liner notes). collier's voice uncurls like smoke from a back room at a party where all the real fun is being had - hovering over strings that would be otherwise corny if not cured by her mentholated croon. songs like "I gotta get away from it all" and "together" resonate like poppier nina simone, poured from a true hurt, a gutbucket of honeyed growls that could clock diana ross right in the supremes.
from what I can tell, this album is a cover of ray charles...covers. and originals. it's confusing. they don't really say. but from what I googled, it looks like ray charles had most of these songs in his canon, so this is technically a cover album, with a few of her originals thrown in. found this dusty gem for four bucks at a corner thrift in savannah a month before it got shuttered. you can buy an overpriced vinyl 180 gm. reprint here, or you can grab her greatest hits if you absolutely gotta have yer mitty digital.
to be played by rihanna in "cadillac records 2: who gives a shit"
further nerd research finds hot (yet troubled) chicks are into:
sushi.
what's that? you can't make rent? too fucking bad. sure, it's a good date once in a while, but think about all the crazy mother fuckers you know that adore this shit. might as well have a drug habit...it's more fun and you get to travel. sushi is the spencer gifts of fine dining - I'm entertained for a minute, then I want to know where the fuck all my dough went. if you're about to eat sushi for the third time this week, just ball up your money in your fist and punch yourself over and over in the tongue, fattie. now you might not get evicted or have to beg your parents to bail you out. again. knows full fucking well that both rice and fish are cheap when served separately
I don't feel like typing out a bunch of different entries for this stuff (surprise), so today's funuggets are a bunch of random cornucopious shit: _______________________________________________ frank sinatra used to refer to his dick as his "bird".
according to the award-winning essay "frank sinatra has a cold" by gay talese, he tells a fellow actress throwing something to him on set to "watch out for my bird", and later winks to the writer that he should get his "bird" taken care of. I'm not a greaseball, nor do I go apeshit over sinatra - I like some of his stuff, but I just wonder how he sold this to ava gardner. I passed the ava gardner museum on I-95 on the way to chapel hill this weekend, and saw a bird lighting on the edge of the roof. _______________________________________________ metaphysical b(log)
1. eat huge meal 2. when it's time to shit it out, get on the scale 3. rock a deuce and think about anything you've said since that meal that either doesn't change anybody's life for the better or was just an outright lie 4. when it's all said and done, baby wipes or what have you, stand back on the scale 5. math out the difference, and that's how full of shit you've been 6. write on the internet like you know shit
do I really have to explain this one? stuff as many hotdogs in your mouth as you can before you get to the "here comes a bikini whale" part in rock lobster. could actually work in conjunction with the metaphysical blog, if you coordinate it right.
stuff you don't (and rightfully shouldn't) think about, pt. 2
top 3 xmas movies that have nothing to do with xmas and still rock my shit
it coulda been new year's, fucking arbor day, whatever. peripheral goodwill to all notwithstanding, most of these movies (especially number one) will not end up on the top holiday film lists about to yawn through the media filler in the next month. these end-of-the-year lists are just holidays for writer jerks from cohesive, proto-narrative rambles, so hey, here's mine.
3.) die hard
yeah, yeah - a gimme, I know. but this is basically an excuse to type about what a beautiful bastard alan rickman is. the man has cavorted freely between a variety of roles with gleeful aplomb, from trekkie spoofery to the dark mullet-head of locksley. in die hard, his snide, nasally monologues remind us, as americans, that we all secretly hate the british. not really. kind of. red coat bastards. wait, what?
the dude from family matters also made this film the shit, so naturally, he was excluded from all sequels and has no career.
2.) gremlins
phoebe cates. one of the two coreys. the hero has a jew-fro (like me). phoebe cates. say her name in worship out loud, next to your computer. real quiet, nobody's looking...see? you're either happier and/or at half-mast, so good for you. check the youtube clip for a pre-pixar melange of cuddly-cum-irony: baby demons pacified by the rascals of yore, self-referentially (and metatheatrically, if you were old enough to catch it the first time around) hallmarking the devolution of cute in family entertainment. it's still hotly debated as to whether director joe dante meant the entire film as one giant sarcastic stab at 50's cinema. I remember this one random night studio 35 screened gremlins for free...one of my fondest memories there, right up with seeing wrath of khan with daymon dodson.
1.) brazil
cursed in pre-production, cursed in post-production, connected to the day river phoenix died, and still the unsung king of christmas films in cinematic history. pre-supposing the all-connectedness of globalist thought, fashionable terrorism, and death by plastic surgery (kanye's mom, r.i.p.) - brazil is a monumental tonic to the drone of squeaky-clean holiday fodder, a pipe bomb dropped smack in the middle of bedford falls. you might think that one movie about johnny depp doing drugs in vegas is real cool, but this is terry gilliam's greatest film, period. it hasn't wallpapered any dorms, and sure as hell won't be run in marathons on tbs any time soon.
...now that I've typed this out, it makes me wonder how each film would've turned had they taken place during different holidays. like, a fourth of july motif would fit the 'splosions in each film perfectly, no?
from imdb's trivia bits on brazil: "This was River Phoenix's favorite movie, and he had been filming Dark Blood (1993) with Jonathan Pryce. As a gift, Pryce arranged for Phoenix to meet Terry Gilliam, his hero. The meeting was set to happen the day he died outside the Viper Room. Phoenix never met him."
our thespian poet for this installment is master scribe juliette lewis. grab your favorite snifter of brandy, curl up with your feet in front of a fire, and let your mind drink in her command of grammatical wonderment.....
oh hey joe i'm so sorry for you now cause you'll never live me down i'm the girl in the licks juliette juliette say my name bitch
you got that gentlemen's swagger and a mind full of daggers, leave me alone that 13-inch boot don't make you a man
everything you are is everything you want everything you want is everything you need and everything you need is everything you try and take from me everything don't mean a thing
i'm sick and tired of your duplicity and everything you change in me, change in me
\rooster-booster (n.) - any friend who not only advocates the fair distribution of booty on your behalf, but will retreat at the appropriate hour as to secure said measure of booty in kind. hairpin timing is everything, and a qualified, generous rooster-booster is aware of this. heretofore boosting of rooster can pose as abstract recompense of debts both monetary and madden-oriented; the clearance of such responsibilities therein measured by the rooster in determination of his success. if ye be not a blocker of cock, ye be a booster of rooster.
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