Somehow found myself watching "Twister" on TBS at 4 this morning. I was brain-washed into previously thinking, like many others, that "Battlefield Earth" was the worst movie of all-time (edging "Waterworld" and leaving an indelible shit stain on Travolta forever).
After watching the newly-christened "Shitty Twister", however, my mind has changed.
I found myself glued like a fuckin' rubbernecker at a 3-car pileup to this damn movie. 2 hours of hopping in a truck, chasing tornadoes, tornadoes becoming pissed and chasing people, truck gets destroyed, people find new truck, sequence begins again.
How the fuck was this movie popular? Better yet, what did the state of Oklahoma do to Hollywood to have it decimated by an endless barrage of circling death on screen?
It was two hours, that while I was not doing anything better at the time besides scratching my ass, I still won't get back. Two hours I could have had later in life to shit myself in the hospital bed and laugh while the nurses sponge me down.
And to use Helen Hunt as the female heroine? What a twisted (no pun intended) character to have....."My papa died in a 'nado! Now I want to get these balls to fly around in one! It'll make me feel better!"
I've met slobbering hobos that could have written a better script that this shit heap.
Ok, enough on "Twister", which I also believe led to the slide into oblivion of Van Halen with their shitty song "Humans Being". Lord have mercy.
Now my rant on sports. I don't get a chance to write sports at the paper, and even if I did I would be low man on the totem pole and relegated to writing about tennis. Sorry, "40-love" is not in my vocabulary. It is the furthest thing from a sporting term. It describes more aptly Billy Dee Williams pouring some Colt .45 over a black booty in the club while he humps it.
Anyways, my Reds are looking like shit. I attended the game on Tuesday night, with the promotion being "Bark at the Park". You could bring your dog to the game, parade it on the field beforehand and let your mutt shit all over the emerald green grass of Great American Ballpark.
Might have looked better than my Reds did that night, possibly.
They are outta gas. Anyone with a set of pupils can see that. Rolen is hitting like shit, Phillips is hitting like shit, Gomes does nothing but tug at his fucking helmet 7 times between whiffing at 3 pitches, Cordero couldn't hack it in the Queen City softball league right now, etc., etc., etc.
They'll win the division, simply because the Cardinals suck more. Then, it will be 3 and out in the NLDS against whomever we play. Mark my words. Trust me, as a fan I do hope I eat those words and they win the whole thing.
I've got better chances, though, of bedding Jenna Jameson. And that's even with her being a whore.
Among some of the other senseless TV I gawked at in the early morning hours was "Jersey Shore". If I had a gun, I seriously think I would have shot the television. Fight, fuck and dance is all that show is. I guess its the most distilled form of human instinct on television, but seriously what do these people have to offer us? It's not like their lives are train wrecks that we can use to make ourselves feel better (shit, they are living high off the MTV hog), nor are they ugly (except for Ronnie who resembles a neanderthal).
So what is the appeal? Help me out. Reasons will be accepted.
Interestingly, the most irritating portion of the show are the personal interviews and how each person is always labeled at the bottom. Ok, I think I gathered after the first time Sammi "Sweetheart" was interviewed that it was her name. You don't have to show me every single fucking time.
Unless MTV is subtly hinting that their audience are as dumb as a box of rocks.
Which makes me a rock, at least this morning.
I'm going to finish up with my quote of the day. Can't guarantee they will be politically correct, but they will be inspirational....at least in making you feel better about the shit-heap someone dropped on your life's doorstep.
"Recycling and speed limits are bullshit. They're like someone who quits smoking on his deathbed." - from the film "Fight Club"
Keep your powder dry, folks.
Spragoo
