Alright, so if you are a friend of mine (and if you aren't just keep reading this blog as I update it, I am sure it will come up often), you know I really love shitty movies. Not shitty as in fucking 2003s Paycheck with Ben Affleck (did you know he was in Clerks II?) and Uma Thurman (I will never forgive you for Where the Heart Is!). Actually, let's just go into Paycheck a bit more...*
If you somehow missed out on Paycheck, let me just sum it up for you. It was a movie about Ben Affleck playing an engineer (nope, that wasn't a joke) being chased for something. He plays it so believable that we believe he is actually trying to figure out why he is being chased; like, Affleck is actually trying to figure out the script in real time. Somewhere along the line, Uma Thurman does...something. It doesn't matter, just watch it up until actor Colm Feore delivers the greatest line ever. Upon being asked what he has been doing this entire time, his character, Wolfe, delivers this epic retort, "I...was eating pie." If you are wondering why this is so awesome, you have no idea the way Mr. Feore delivers lines (watch The Sum of All Fears).
...Alright so maybe I have a bit of love for Paycheck. The only reason i really shiver when I hear the name is because it was directed by none other than John Woo (and yes, there are two Mexican Standoffs in this movie), the previews made it look kick ass (don't they always?), and it nearly ruined my Christmas of 2003. But back on topic: I love shitty B movies. Not movies like Paycheck where the director and crew kind sort of really tried to make a decent movie. No, I love movies where they just said, "Fuck it." (Please, please see Killer Klowns From Outter Space, Thankskilling, and Santa's Slay)
Particularly I am here to talk about the great Claudio Fragasso. Despite my love of these movies, I have just now gotten around to checking out Trolls 2. I, of course, instantly fell in love and wanted to strike myself repeatedly for never seeing it before. So, I decided to check out who wrote the story. Some unknown named Drake Floyd. So I checked him out on IMDB and IT WAS A PEN NAME FOR MR. FRAGASSO (he uses a lot of pen names...even he still holds some pride). This made The Bus happier than I have been in a while. So, if you have no idea who the fuck I am talking about here is a little run down of some of the highlights in his career. CHECK THESE OUT!
(1980) Night of the Zombie (may also be under the title of Hell of the Living Dead depending on regionality)
Claudio was the writer on this one and it was available on Youtube in its entirety for quite a decent bit, so check into that. Anyways, this one is actually kind of sweet. I mean, yeah the production, camera work, and effects are pure B...but the story actually carries some weight and could honestly be remade today and stand up fair enough. The big reveal is towards the end and just incase there is one person that goes and tracks this down, I won't ruin it.
(1984) Monster Dog
Claudio was once again the writer here and another instance of him using a pen name (Clyde Anderson). Nothing too special here (if you can't figure out what this is about, stop trying)...except that Alice Cooper is the fucking lead actor...and his voice is dubbed over. That is right they somehow got Alice Cooper and decided to dub over his voice. Anyways he plays a guy in a pop band (because he couldn't get his band to go in on the movie with him...seriously) that travels back to his home town which is being ravaged by...A MONSTER DOG. Either way, dubbed over or no, Alice Cooper wooping werewolf ass is worth seeing.
(1987) Strike Commando
Claudio writes under Clyde Anderson again in this standard shitfest, late 80s action hero movie. However, it is made impossibly more awesome by just how bad this is and Reb Brown as the lead actor (if you have no idea just how awesome/bad Brown is, look into the late 70s Captain America TV movie). Plus, the director may or may not have ever been to America because at one point Ransom (that is Brown's character) is talking to his dying partner who has just asked as his dying wish, "Tell me about Disneyland..." Ransom starts crying and talking about how they have tons of popcorn there, all you have to do is climb a tree to eat it. He then tosses in something about a magic genie granting you a wish and other delectable treats that can be found in Disneyland. It is awesome. Also, they fuck up The Lord's Prayer which is just solid.
(1988) Zombi 3
Is just a clusterfuck of misnomers. Try to follow this: Zombi 2 was an in-name only sequel to Dawn of the Dead and Zombi 3 is an in-name only sequel to Zombi 3. Next, the director that the movie is credited to only directed bits and pieces of it. So there is literally nothing that connects these movies together. Alright so you don't even have to get past the title for classic B-movie laughs, but can the movie back it up? Kind of, honestly is just kind of run of the mill B-movie fare. But still worth a check for how fucked the whole project is.
(1990) Troll 2
If you were like me and somehow haven't seen this one yet, do so. As soon as humanly possible. That is all that needs to be said.
Woooh! I need a breather after that one! So yeah, I will probably bring you some more B-movie highlights in the future. Hope you enjoy!
Thursday, September 30, 2010
I really fucking hate sweatpants
I have a saying, "At least I had the decency to put on pants." I say this in response to the growing cancer that is sweatpants.I really can't fully describe my utter hatred towards these terrible, terrible things. However, I will do my damndest to do so. Yes, dammit, I read too far into sweatpants...but, fuck it.
Alright, so I am fully aware that I am not the most strappingly handsome dude wandering the streets and I am generally the drunkest. This is certainly not a winning combination. SO, I take pride in wearing clothes. I mean, shit...it is all I have going for me! So it really pisses me off when I see people wearing these things because I know that they threw them on, pulled on a shirt, and said, "Alright, this is good." I am not so vain that I spend thirty minutes getting ready to go out (fucking kill me if I get like that). BUT, I will take the five minutes to grab a pair of jeans that are (relatively) clean and actually pick out a shirt for the night (this isn't really too hard because pretty much all I own are plain black, white, and gray shirts).
So far, you may be thinking, "Alright so this dude's hatred towards sweatpants stems from a vain sense of fashion and jealously that even though he had the decency to get pants, he still won't get laid." Well, ok so you are partly correct. I have long since given up on any pride filled sexual conquest (I am too busy drinking everything in your liquor cabinet and watching Killer Klowns From Outter Space).
NO, I really hate these things because it seems to be yet another great example of our descent into terrible laziness. I understand that they are comfy and I understand that you don't feel the need to put on real clothes to head out. However, I will judge you as a lazy fuck and a slob and I won't really have anything to do with you unless you are able to really blow me away with a stunning combination of a love for Hot Water Music, shitty B movies, and maybe buy me a drink. Other than this, I will be avoiding you like the plague and talking to the other people who had the decency to put on pants.
Lastly, I suppose I must admit to moderate jealousy. I am jealous of the 'yeah bro' dickhead community that automatically get all the respect and admiration because they decided to waste four years of their life in a frat. Or the pretentious, personality vacant prissy chicks that can literally wear a trashbag if they want and no one will give a flying rat's ass.
Actually, one last thing (I promise): If you wear sweatpants to a bar, you're a cunt.
Alright, so I am fully aware that I am not the most strappingly handsome dude wandering the streets and I am generally the drunkest. This is certainly not a winning combination. SO, I take pride in wearing clothes. I mean, shit...it is all I have going for me! So it really pisses me off when I see people wearing these things because I know that they threw them on, pulled on a shirt, and said, "Alright, this is good." I am not so vain that I spend thirty minutes getting ready to go out (fucking kill me if I get like that). BUT, I will take the five minutes to grab a pair of jeans that are (relatively) clean and actually pick out a shirt for the night (this isn't really too hard because pretty much all I own are plain black, white, and gray shirts).
So far, you may be thinking, "Alright so this dude's hatred towards sweatpants stems from a vain sense of fashion and jealously that even though he had the decency to get pants, he still won't get laid." Well, ok so you are partly correct. I have long since given up on any pride filled sexual conquest (I am too busy drinking everything in your liquor cabinet and watching Killer Klowns From Outter Space).
NO, I really hate these things because it seems to be yet another great example of our descent into terrible laziness. I understand that they are comfy and I understand that you don't feel the need to put on real clothes to head out. However, I will judge you as a lazy fuck and a slob and I won't really have anything to do with you unless you are able to really blow me away with a stunning combination of a love for Hot Water Music, shitty B movies, and maybe buy me a drink. Other than this, I will be avoiding you like the plague and talking to the other people who had the decency to put on pants.
Lastly, I suppose I must admit to moderate jealousy. I am jealous of the 'yeah bro' dickhead community that automatically get all the respect and admiration because they decided to waste four years of their life in a frat. Or the pretentious, personality vacant prissy chicks that can literally wear a trashbag if they want and no one will give a flying rat's ass.
Actually, one last thing (I promise): If you wear sweatpants to a bar, you're a cunt.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
The Boozing Herd
So, this is my first attempt at blogging in a long while, and my first attempt at writing in slightly shorter but still a lengthy period of time. So please forgive The Bus for what will be, more than likely, a rocky start. However, this is a start of some sort. So, if you are reading this, thanks a bunch for supporting The Bus.
Anyways, since it is seven in the morning and my brain is a bit hazy from the work night and a general hatred for the never ending demand for gasoline flavored coffee from hotel guests...I will simply give a brief overview of a little thing I have relearned in my time in Carbondale.
I fucking hate the herd mentality. Do you know how many friends I have made since I have been down here? Well, I have never been good at math and counting is for toddlers and accountants (and maybe myself when I count the cash drawer). So, uhh, well it isn't a lot. The reason for this is either because the only time I am out attempting to meet people is when I am sloshed two ways from common sense and dignity on cheap alcohol or because of the fucking herd mentality.
It is always a terrible dissapointment to head out to the bar, ready to get drunker than Nick Nolte or Mel Gibson fueled on rambunctious racist rage (that alliteration kicked a lot of ass) and meet some like minded people only to discover that everyone (probably yourself included) isn't going to the bar to do that. Well, they are going to go to the bar to accomplish the first goal but never the second. We just tell ourselves we are going to do the second because it makes us feel slightly less bad about binge drinking.
As soon as you get to the bar and attempt to play darts with your friends (I learned I am Your Respective God awful at darts), you are screwed. The herd has already taken over and it is impenetrable. You don't want to leave the group because you are either too scared or it is just too funny watching your friend break all the darts. No one wants to try to embrace the group because it is either: too scary or too funny watching the drunk guy break all the darts. THEN by the time you are drunk as shit (what an odd saying) and your friend is throwing a fuck ton of single dollars into the boxing arcade game (that was me, I really like that thing) the herd will never dissolve or accept new members.
This happens all the fucking time! It really drives me crazy because I do it too. I really wish human nature was more geared to singularity, branching out, and socializing (not online, we are really good at that).
Anyways, this is why The Bus is a lot of times having more fun drinking a half gallon of wine and falling down stairs than going out to social gatherings. Because it is never a social gathering. It is a place for your little herd to be around other herds and feel as if you are part of something larger.
Yeah so a few little footnotes here
1. I will be posting from a computer that ONLY has Internet Explorer which doesn't have spell check. I will proof-read my posts a bit, but honestly: I am really fucking lazy.
2. If you are one of my friends on FailBook drop some ideas for me to rant about. I draw more inspiration from things people say and do around me than I do from my own head.
3. If you actually made it this far...thanks a lot
- The Vibrating Wonderbus
Anyways, since it is seven in the morning and my brain is a bit hazy from the work night and a general hatred for the never ending demand for gasoline flavored coffee from hotel guests...I will simply give a brief overview of a little thing I have relearned in my time in Carbondale.
I fucking hate the herd mentality. Do you know how many friends I have made since I have been down here? Well, I have never been good at math and counting is for toddlers and accountants (and maybe myself when I count the cash drawer). So, uhh, well it isn't a lot. The reason for this is either because the only time I am out attempting to meet people is when I am sloshed two ways from common sense and dignity on cheap alcohol or because of the fucking herd mentality.
It is always a terrible dissapointment to head out to the bar, ready to get drunker than Nick Nolte or Mel Gibson fueled on rambunctious racist rage (that alliteration kicked a lot of ass) and meet some like minded people only to discover that everyone (probably yourself included) isn't going to the bar to do that. Well, they are going to go to the bar to accomplish the first goal but never the second. We just tell ourselves we are going to do the second because it makes us feel slightly less bad about binge drinking.
As soon as you get to the bar and attempt to play darts with your friends (I learned I am Your Respective God awful at darts), you are screwed. The herd has already taken over and it is impenetrable. You don't want to leave the group because you are either too scared or it is just too funny watching your friend break all the darts. No one wants to try to embrace the group because it is either: too scary or too funny watching the drunk guy break all the darts. THEN by the time you are drunk as shit (what an odd saying) and your friend is throwing a fuck ton of single dollars into the boxing arcade game (that was me, I really like that thing) the herd will never dissolve or accept new members.
This happens all the fucking time! It really drives me crazy because I do it too. I really wish human nature was more geared to singularity, branching out, and socializing (not online, we are really good at that).
Anyways, this is why The Bus is a lot of times having more fun drinking a half gallon of wine and falling down stairs than going out to social gatherings. Because it is never a social gathering. It is a place for your little herd to be around other herds and feel as if you are part of something larger.
Yeah so a few little footnotes here
1. I will be posting from a computer that ONLY has Internet Explorer which doesn't have spell check. I will proof-read my posts a bit, but honestly: I am really fucking lazy.
2. If you are one of my friends on FailBook drop some ideas for me to rant about. I draw more inspiration from things people say and do around me than I do from my own head.
3. If you actually made it this far...thanks a lot
- The Vibrating Wonderbus
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