Signalling a return to the “Straight Talk Express” John McCain of 2000, the Arizona Senator got back to calling ‘em as he sees them this week.

“Call it what you wish,’ remarked the Senator,”But an unresolved hostage crisis, gas and energy fiascos, mortgage rates at 20% interest, and that retarded brother of his were absolutely lousy, in my opinion. And I suspect, in the opinion of most Americans.”

McCain went on to opine that KFC Chicken tastes like shit now that they’ve phased out trans-fat frying oil, that nipple pasties at titty bars are nothing but a “goddamned tease”, and that it’s high time the Arizona Cardinals football team hires a coach that doesn’t completely “suck the big one.”

 Looks like we’re finally back up and running.

This, I think, is a good thing.

All Other Kid’s Mom’s Don’t Know Sophie’s Parents, Yet All Others Still Allowed At Pajama Party

Illegal Alien Appreciates Right Wing Promotion To Immigrant

But you don’t have to go out to see this crap. Oh no, just watch the friggin’ evening news. The meth labs, the alcoholism, the divorce rate and all the babies born out of wedlock. People too lazy to get off their asses and work just looking for a handout, and then taking their government subsidy and buying booze, coke and whores with it. Well I’m sick of it!

Let me tell you something. I’ve done all that shit. And more. I’ve done shit that would make an airtight porn specialist blush. But I’m 45 years old now. I’ve got a portfolio and a family to look after nowadays. I don’t need that shit anymore. And neither does anybody else. I’ve had quite enough fun for everyone.

When I was a teenager, they didn’t give out condoms in schools. Hell no! Abortion used to be my condom. You think I even considered facing the embarrassment of buying condoms back in my day…AND giving up all the feeling in my pink torpedo, just to get a pack of condoms? C’mon. Let’s do the math here. I must’ve gotten laid about 300 times and I only ever had to drive 3 chicks to the clinic. That’s 1 per hundred. That’s 99% effective, people. Tell Trojan to get back to me when they can beat that. And big deal….so I’d have to move an extra QP of weed to cover the costs if the chick wouldn’t stop bitching about it, or was too much of a baby to throw herself down the stairs. There was plenty more where that came from! Boy, I tell ya…in my prime. In my prime. 

But those days are over, my friends. There’s no need for condoms or abortions at 1776 John Birch Lane. No siree, not now that I got snipped.  And that means there ain’t no need in the U.S. of frickin’ A.

Before labor unions ruined this country, I used to be in the UAW. We got laid off for 6 months at 80% pay once, and when that ran out, I got another six months on my hard earned unemployment. Having to get up once a week, wake and bake, and go get 3 employment denials was pretty hard work. But it did leave time for some 30 something hi-jinks, let me tell ya! Every Wednesday, me and Lenny would meet up bright and early at 11 am to catch Price is Right. Were we stoned? If you knew Lenny, you wouldn’t have to ask that question. Anyway, we’d watch PIR, then head to Sammy’s Pool Hall so we could score an 8 ball. We’d pound Jack Daniels and Pabst at Sammy’s and do a few rails in Sammy’s shitter….careful to save enough blow to entice the strippers at Leon’s A-Ho-Go into a little mouth-to-south resuscitation in the alley later that afternoon.

After we were finished with the blow and the ho, we’d always wind up at the Salty Cracker, which is, coincidentally, right next door to the development where I live now. We’d go apeshit in the Cracker, and after me and Lenny inevitably got thrown out the front door for grabassing or running up on the bandstand, we’d go back to my place, wake my old lady up, and make her cook up whatever was available in the kitchen. Then we’d pass out before it was ready.

Do you think I do that kind of stuff anymore? I’m middle management, bub. I put on a short sleeve shirt and a tie every day and I EARN my damn paycheck. I don’t have time for that tomfoolery. So neither do you.

Speaking of the Salty Cracker, I must tell you that I am now the President of my development’s homeowner’s association, and I have decided that the Cracker must be closed DOWN! Nothing but loud music and drunks pouring out of that place and waking up the neighborhood. To say nothing about the CHILDREN! Sure, there were children in this neighborhood when I used to stumble out of the Cracker, but you’re forgetting about 2 important things. One- I don’t do that anymore. And two- they weren’t my children. Enough is enough. I’ve been there, done that. It looks like you’re the one who’s flagged now, Cracker! And all of your would-be patrons!

The fact of the matter is, I just can’t do that kind of shit anymore. My body can’t take it. And sometimes it makes me sad and angry. And I don’t think it’s fair that everybody else gets to keep doing it. But nobody listens to an ex-degenerate with an axe to grind.

But you know who they will listen to? They’ll listen to the Lord, boy howdy. And the Lord says all kinds of stuff about shit being wrong with the things I used to do.

I know the Lord wants to help me stamp out all vices all over the world. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have let my wife buy a computer, and he wouldn’t have sent my son to teach me how to use it.

With God as my beard, there is no limit to the number of web forums I can visit where I can rail against the evils of sex, drugs, booze, women, abortion, smoking, gambling, gays, ….you name it! I’m in The Lord’s Ar-mee. And Fun is public enemy Numero Uno.

The only fun I allow myself these days is the transcendental feeling of self righteousness I get from sneering and jeering at all the people who act like I used to, when I still could. But make no mistake, it is fun. Well, maybe not fun. But it almost fills the hole that joy and hope used to occupy.

I just wish I didn’t have to support the Republicans to sell this holier than thou business. My net income is really taking it in the ass these days.

“Hard Candy” is a movie I’ve seen sitting on the shelves of my video store for months, but never figured worth the 4 bucks and change to rent. Just caught it “OnDemand” for free on Showtime OnDemand this evening.

I really liked this film.

The movie is more than slightly reminiscent of “Death and the Maiden”, where Sigourney Weaver believes she has captured the torturer/rapist from her days in an Argentine (supposedly) prison camp. That film unfolds like a 3 act play, where we watch Weaver ratchet up the stakes in an attempt to get a confession out of Ben Kingsley’s alleged evil “doctor”. The audience is left to keep guessing right up to the very end: Is He Or Isn’t He?

Much of the same thing here, with a few nods to Reese Witherspoon’s “Freeway” to boot.

Comparing “Hard Candy” to those two films doesn’t take away the fact that this film feels very much alive and fresh on its own.

From what I’ve learned, the term “Hard Candy” refers to underage girls on the internet (which makes me wonder how I’m going to do an Image search for a poster for this movie without ending up on some watch list).

As the film opens, we see only a computer screen with two screen names engaged in a provacative chat room conversation; Thonggrrrl 14 and Lensman319. The chat informs us that 14 year old Thonggrrrl is going to have her older sister drive her to the mall to meet the 32 year old Lensman. During the meeting, the camera slowly pans past a bulletin board with a “MISSING” poster for another local teenage girl.

The two end up at Lensman’s condo, and from there on out, it’s a taught, table turning, nail biting, wince inducing roller coaster ride. The Big Bad Wolf has definitely caught the WRONG Little Red Riding Hood.

 It would be impossible for me to overdo my praise for Ellen Page as Hayley aka Thonggrrrl.  The 18 year old Page looks the part of a 14 year old, and gives the character the all too believable guile of a teen with wisdom beyond her years. It is an electric performance that will cement this actress in the mind of any viewer, and hopefully, Hollywood casting directors, for years to come.

Patrick Wilson also gives a top notch performance as Jeff aka Lensman. Particularly because Jeff spends the majority of the film without any way to express emotion other than with his voice and face.

This film is far from perfect, and there are a few holes that require some work to maintain the suspension of disbelief. Which is why it’s a bit weird to say that it’s also very smart and doesn’t pander to the audience.

But any movie that is a 1 set, 2 character stage piece that bristles and pops the way this film does speaks volumes about the director, writer, cinematographer and actors. But make no mistake. This is Page’s movie through and through. She has made damn sure that nobody, NOBODY, ever forgets Thonggrrrl 14.

 Like Christoper Walken to the cowbell, I got a fever. And the only prescription, is more pizza.

I go out for pizza, and I have to go large pie. Even if it means bringing half of it or more home with me. It just doesn’t make sense to go medium pie. Medium pies are miniscule compared to the big, and there’s usually like a 2 dollar difference in price. As a result, I usually have some cold pizza in my fridge on any given day of the week.

Being the pizza connoisseur that I am, I aim to try to recreate that fresh hot pizzeria taste with my leftover slices.

Forget the microwave. Pizza disaster. Oven baking or skillet frying…..ehhh. Here’s the ticket, and you can thank me later.

Foreman Grill!

That’s right. That lean mean fat grilling machine is the best appliance you own for reheating a two day old, cold slice of heaven. You got heat from the bottom and heat from the top, combining to give those slices a warm crispy bottom crust and bubbly cheesy top…almost….I said ALMOST….as good as when it was first out of the oven.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Won’t the Foreman Grille crush my pizza and turn the cheese into a burnt mess?  Why, yes, it will. If you don’t use my patented formula for success.

Grab a candlestick holder, a DVD case, a tall pepper can….whatever the hell you can find that’s the right size, and prop the top of the grill up just high enough so that it doesn’t touch the cheese. Plug it in, check on it occassionaly, and take it off when the cheese is at desired level of doneness. Takes about 4 minutes.

I shouldn’t have to tell you these things.

But one place that was very far from warm yesterday? Hell.

Speaking to reporters concerning the amazing temperature drop was Satan’s Press Secretary, Rev. Jerry Falwell.

“Yes, it was quite chilly around here yesterday,” commented the deceased Reverend. ”I wouldn’t say that the place froze over, but it was a cold, cold day indeed. Some places down here actually got some snow.”

Reports from around the normally firey underground confirmed that a snowball made from yesterday’s freakish precipitation would actually last for several hours in the frigid temperatures.

 This was good news for Hell’s drunken Philly fan sector, who, between cheers for the Phils, siezed the opportunity to pummel hundreds of former shopping mall Santa Claus’s with snowballs. The Claus Posse is doing an undetermined amount of time in Hell’s half-way house, Purgatory, for building up and then dashing the hopes of millions of children around the world. The Santa contigent was charged with, among other things, not delivering more than a million ponies as promised, and for failing to prevent thousands of parents from getting divorced.

 In related financial news, Hell’s stock market plummeted yesterday, mainly due to a drastic drop in ice water shares. The stock’s price dropped from $2 million per share to an all time low of 50 cents.

I first saw “Black Snake Moan” back in 1999. Only then, it was directed by Jane Campion and it was called “Holy Smoke”. It starred an incredibly sumptuous Kate Winslett as a troubled young woman with sex as her weapon and her weakness, and Harvey Keitel as the dedicated “deprogrammer”, intent on redeeming her while trying to elude her feminine wiles. Other than a heart palpitation inducing Winslett, that movie had nothing to offer, either.

 This time around, Christina Ricci plays the role of the wounded sex tart and Sam Jackson plays the role of her altruistic messiah.

Ricci plays Ray,  the trailer trash tease, to perfection. Except she’s no tease. She puts out. And out. And out. She has some sort of addiction to sex and being used by men. Can you guess what might have caused this? To say anymore would be to give away what you already know.

But she looks great. Lord, does she look great. As my Uncle Joe would say, she’s got a body that would make a bishop kick out a stained glass window. And Ricci really does nail the part. It’s a shame she’s given so little to work with here.

Same can be said about Sam Jackson as Lazarus. He wrings the most out of every action and line the script has to offer, but that’s simply not enough to save this film.

The plot, such as it is, centers around Ray being badly beaten after another night of booze, drugs, and fornication, and Laz finding her on the side of the road and nursing her back to health. Laz’s wife has left him for his younger brother, and he decides he’s not going to let Ray continue to destroy her life through reckless behavior and low self esteem any longer. So when Ray is healthy, Laz chains her to the radiator in the house so she can dry out, cold turkey, from the manly attentions she needs to feel validated.

 Throw in a disastrously codependent relationship between Ricci and Justin Timberlake, and what “Black Snake Moan” ultimately adds up to is the kind of cinematic doggerel best reserved for high school poetry. Particularly the ending, which is pure, unconvincing treacle.

People tell you that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Bullshit! The most important meal of the day is the one that makes you forget that you’re friggin’ starving.

Not that there’s anything wrong with breakfast, mind you. I myself am a big fan. I like fried scrapple and eggs and toast with butter and jelly and fried potatoes and a nice glass of iced tea. But I don’t see what’s particularly healthy about any of that. Nuthin’ but a whole bunch of carbs and cholesterol with a smattering of protein to justify its existence. But it tastes good, and if you’re hungry, it hits the spot.

I expect this blog will be much the same way. Nothing healthy, educational, or morally redeeming about it. But if you’re bored, it might occassionally hit the spot.