Bigupp to all my Haters!

As I plugged in my last entry, the new GIRL TALK album, "Feed the Animals", is available for download HERE!

I put together this video to illustrate GT's mashup wizardry in just one track, called "Here's the Thing".

Chicago. Nine Inch Nails. Kelly Clarkson. Elvis Costello. Rick Springfield.

All fair game.

Smashed up and born again into this one big bastard pop monstrosity...!

[Watch it directly on YOU TUBE and choose the option to "Watch in High Quality": more of the text is legible that way.]

HERE is a video showing Girl Talk at work, making a new track on the fly out of an Elvis Costello sample.

DON'T CALL HIM A DJ!

He's a sound-collagist, 'kay?

For all those YOU-TUBE-phobic, read about PLUNDERPHONICS.

God Gets Totally Fucked

(Disclaimer: Picture relates to nothing in this entry but I've been waiting to use it forever)

God Lucky Howard.

Okay, let's back up a little...

Naming your kid "God" is one thing. It's a pretty funny gag that keeps giving for a lifetime—whether the kid turns out good or bad or really almost anything.

But why do you have to give him a dog's middle-name?

Wouldn't it have been better to follow-through with the primary joke?

His middle-name could have been "Damn" or "Awful" or "Doesn't-Exist".

In other news...

Download this album if you want to live!

The greatest hits from the 70s, 80s, 90s and Today? IN ONE ALBUM?

Thank you, Girl Talk.

All Goodbyes Should Be Drawn-Out

While not officially moving yet, my (so-called) friends Nick'Emma are having most of their belongings shipped 300+ miles to New Hampshire this weekend.

Holy shit.

THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING, isn't it?

I... I don't know, I guess I kinda thought we had more time... I thought there was going to be more time...


I am NOT going to cry...

I am NOT going to cry for YOU...

You cocksucker, I know you can hear me... I want you to know that I HATE YOUR FUCKING GUTS... you can just fucking die, you fuck... and I hope it hurts, I fucking hope it hurts...


God damn you fucking asshole... DON'T GO AWAY, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! DON'T GO AWAY, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!

Hold Me Closer, Minnie Dancer

I was 8 or 9. My little cousin Perry must've been around 7.

We were at Disney World and we both had our lascivious, prepubescent eyes trained on the hot Minnie Mouse that was strutting her stuff on a passing parade float.

Sure, she was fully costumed. But all that costume couldn't hide the fact that she had the curves... and she had the moves.

Perry nudged me. "Hey... what do you think about that Minnie Mouse...?"

He asked this tentatively. As if he wasn't sure if it was okay to feel what he was feeling toward a costumed Disney character. An awakening sense of urgency that her original cartoon incarnation had never inspired.

I nodded, watching her shake her nubian mouse rump.

"Yeah...," I reassured him. "... she's good."

Gay Panda

I attended a special "sneaked-into" screening of the family blockbuster hit KUNG FU PANDA the other week. Mainly because I'm compelled to watch all of David Cross's children films. Altogether, a much better movie than I expected, but that's neither here nor there...

A few urban youths sneaked into the same show and sat in the same row as us. (I tend to attract trouble.)

A young man who seemed really full of himself, and two female companions. Throughout the movie, the guy was messing around with his phone or some electronic device with a bright screen.

Annoying enough for most. But on top of that, after every major action sequence, the boy felt compelled to offer his commentary:

"That was gay."

And his female companions would titter at his inappropriateness. Every fucking time.

I guess this little douchebag felt he needed to establish that he was too mature to enjoy a gay kids movie. But beyond that, this fuckwit represents a larger cancer. People have got some poor fucking theater-going etiquette. People need to get SCHOOLED.

I know, it depends on what theater you're going to. And then there's the whole race thing, which I won't get into...

(But you know what I'm talking about... come on now... don't make me say it.)

Slippery When Wet

Ashleigh Morris.

Dear, sweet Ashleigh Morris.

Ashleigh Morris has a secret.

You see, she has a peculiar condition...

You wouldn't know it from looking at her, but whatever you do... don't get her WET!!!

George Carlin Has a Posse

May 12, 1937 – June 22, 2008
While Steve Guttenberg continues to cheat death, other celebrities have got to pay the piper. It appears that George Carlin has a posse now.

Let me ask the question that news reports may not be asking: where was Guttenberg at the time of death?

Steve Guttenberg Doesn't Want a Fucking Posse!

It's happened, people.

As long time readers will know, I've been anticipating the demise of Steve Guttenberg for some time now:

Example 1
Example 2
Example 3
Example 4

He represents the perfect storm of:

1) the once-popular celeb you don't think about anymore
2) a filmography that begs to be cut into a montage (Police Academy, Short Circuit, Police Academy 2, Don't Tell Her It's Me)
3) closet serial killer

Well, he's not dead.

But he flipped the fuck out, recently.

What's wrong, Guttenberg? Why can't you just accept the sweet embrace of untimely death already?

War Correspondent

From the Washington Post:

"Her lilting South African voice is tinged with a fervor that a more polished reporter might try to hide. But the 35-year-old Logan has no interest in tamping down the passions that drove her into journalism and fueled her rapid rise to the post of CBS's chief foreign correspondent."

Caught Lara Logan on the Daily Show the other night...


Stop the press—WHO'S THAT?

I've seen her on 60 Minutes before, but I don't know... seeing her on the Daily Show... Madonn'! There should be a limit to how hot any human being can be. And her accent just puts her through the roof.

I have no idea what she was talking about... something about some kind of war somewhere... her hypnotic eyes and her seductive voice put me into a zombie state that I'm... I'm still recovering from...

Tawk amongst yourselves! I'll give you a topic: Mike Myers's "The Love Guru" opens today. Do you not give a shit or do you not give a fuck? DISCUSS...

The Education of Miss Groves

Caught this story on DATELINE about Miss Monica Groves.

The DATELINE segment was culled from Izhar Harpaz's documentary series following a pretty, idealistic, achingly girlfriendable young teacher over the course of her first year teaching 6th grade at a tough Atlanta school.

FIND IT.

Posthumosity

Following an unsuccessful attempt to claim the throne, James Scott, 1st Duke of Monmouth was beheaded on July 15, 1685. It is said that it took multiple blows of the axe to separate his head from his body. After which, the head was stuck on a pike at the Stone Gateway, as was the custom for traitors.

According to legend, someone realized after the execution that there was no official portrait of the Duke - for a son of a King, and someone who had claimed the throne, albeit in vain, this was unheard of.

So two days after his execution, his body was exhumed, his head stitched back on his body, and he was thusly posed for his portrait to be painted. Painted in a hurry.

The veracity of this story is seriously debated, but THIS PORTRAIT EXISTS. The story still on active rotation among the Beefeaters at the Tower of London, as it was told to one of our regular readers.

But where can we view this portrait up close?

Apparently, it does reside at London's National Portrait Gallery... but is NOT available for public viewing! As Jenny relates it to me, the portrait is hung in the NPG's offices, inaccessible to the masses.

When she was told the portrait was hidden away from the public, Jenny tried to muscle her way through to a viewing, even using her MoMA credentials. The museum official gave no quarter.

The portrait is named,

Unknown man, formerly known as James Scott, Duke of Monmouth and Buccleuch
by Unknown artist
The museum official maintained that the story behind the painting is most likely a fabrication.

If so, why is it hidden away, National Portrait Gallery? Why are you acting so goddamned suspicious?

Believe it... OR NOT!

Stan Winston Has a Posse

April 7, 1946 – June 15, 2008
Stan Winston gets his posse, far too young.

First Russert, now this? Who gets to make this a trio of tragedy?

Are you up for it, Steve Guttenberg?

Pork Those Beans

Ima do the things
That I wanna do!!
I ain't got a thing
To prove to you!!
I've now watched THE NEW WEEZER VIDEO to death!

That's what I do. I watch stuff I like till I just wanna puke. It's a good system that works for me.

I like Weezer cuz they make big, fun, poppy adolescent anthems with catchy choruses that the whole crowd can sing along with.

June's half-dead. Can you dig that?

So, what's on the scene this week for your ol' pal Malice? A lot of big things could happen, a lot of nothing could happen, and a whole range of shit in between.

Do you ever read an entry like this and wonder, "Why the fuck do I check this blog regularly?"

Tim Russert Has a Posse

1950 - 2008
Homicide's Tim Russert has a posse. He was my mom's age.

In his own words:

When I became moderator of Meet the Press, the first phone call I made was to Lawrence Spivak, the founder of this program. He invited me to his apartment: it was a shrine to Meet the Press, as I entered the doors and looked at all the photographs and letters and memorabilia he had from his years on Meet the Press.


And I said, "Larry, what's the mission of this program? Our program, Meet the Press."

He said, "It's simple. Each and every Sunday, you have to learn as much as you can about your guest, and his or her views and positions on issues... and then take the other side."

Spider-Man 3 is Just Fucking Awful

Last weekend, I was having a discussion with a friend who was adamant that "Spider-Man 3" isn't that bad.

Not wanting to get too into it, I tried to get him to at least concede that "Spider-Man 3" had a decidedly more MIXED critical reception than the first two "Spider-Man" movies.

Alas, Dave— er, I mean this friend of mine REFUSED TO CONCEDE that it had a more mixed reception than the other movies.

Well, here's an overview of the series, courtesy of review-roundup website Rotten Tomatoes:

Now... I ain't no fancy numbers expert, but it looks like the average scores for the series took a sharp dive from "Spider-Man 2" to "Spider-Man 3". Could it be that my unnamed friend might have been wrong?

For the record, I think the first one's the strongest overall. The second one's overrated, but still works.

I hated the third one when I saw it in the theater. And I hated it even more when I watched it again on Blu-Ray. A few neat sequences don't make it good if those sequences weren't earned. And they ain't.

Peter Parker cries too much in it, and looks like a fucking pussy when he does. (The audience I saw it with kept LAUGHING AT HIM, and deservedly so.) Sandman has a cool origin scene, but what the fuck is his character's motivation? His little girl is sick... so he has to rob banks? So he's a reluctant enemy, right? But then he joins forces with Venom in a jarringly tacked-on scene. And then he's remorseful for killing Peter's uncle? I've got a good idea: why don't we have Sandman cry before he leaves so that everyone gets to be a bit of a pussy in this one?

What about the scenes of Mary Jane in the most boring Broadway musical ever? Peter showing how evil he is by dancing jazz? How about the riveting scene where Mary Jane and Harry Osborne cook an omelet? (I've seen more drama and sexual tension on the fucking FOOD NETWORK!)

How should we end it? Jazz club dance sequence. Yep, that's Spider-Man.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it's the superhero movie that just doesn't give a shit!

I HATED HATED HATED HATED HATED THIS MOVIE.

(And I am not alone in this.)

Friday the 13th

Thursday evening, I went to some finger-food 'n cocktails hoop-dee-hoo thrown by the Governor's Film Office to celebrate filmmaking in New York.

I got into the party since I recently got suckered into becoming a member of the Writers Guild Activities Committee. And while at the party, I plastered on a smile and tried to chat it up with some of the A.C. women.

I can't quite articulate how depressing this was.

Quite a bit older and unpleasant to look at for long stretches. (MIWFs.) They asked about my career, and I gave them the Cliff Notes version—with the sort of less-than-thrilled manner that you would use in relating something when you KNOW the person asking doesn't fully understand (or care) what you're telling them.

"Horror movies! Oh, your movie isn't gory, is it?"

"Uh... no, not really."

"Oh good! I saw this new show on one of the channels, it's this horror show -- I couldn't believe what they could put on network tv!"

"Fear Itself."

"Yes, THAT'S THE NAME OF IT! Oh my gawd, I had to tell my therapist about it, it kept up all night! Why would you show those things?!"

This one woman's breath bore the sharp odor of rotten eggs.

I wanted to kill her. Out of mercy. Just snap her neck.

I managed to break away so I could practice my Wallflower Shuffle elsewhere.

xxx
Zooey looked like an angel on the Letterman show this week. Don't know what she was babbling about, but she just looked like a perfect goddamn motherfucking cocksucking dizzy ding dang dong angel.

Everyone should go see her new movie The Happening this weekend because pretty girls need all the support and affirmation that we can offer them.

Anthropomorphism

According to the University of Chicago, lonely people don't necessarily need other people to alleviate their loneliness...

Nicholas Epley, Assistant Professor of Behavioral Science at the University of Chicago’s Graduate School of Business: “When people lack a sense of connection with other people, they are more likely to see their pets, gadgets or gods as human-like.”

Social scientists call this tendency “anthropomorphism.”

"Well, bless my stars, I do believe that's the saddest thing I've ever heard," opined the Gay Horse. "It's a good thing you're not THAT far gone, isn't it, Malice? What do you think, AFR?"



"BALDERDASH!" scowled the Average Frustrated Raccoon. "And PERQUACKEY, too!"




"I AM YOUR GOD, MALICE!" spat the Gay Horse. "Your pet, gadget and god! FEED ME!!!"




"Don't you listen to them, Malice," said the picture of Zooey. "Believe in yourself; the rest is up to me and — Don't go chasing waterfalls! Please stick to the rivers and lakes that you're used to...!"

A Contract of Mutual Self-Delusion

It's not sex; it's a cocktail
of testosterone, fueled by
addiction to pornography,
loneliness, and the need
to hear a woman's voice.

Photographs of Phone-Sex Operators.

(The last girl's kinda cute.)

A Failure to Communicate

Hours after he'd left the bar—at home, staring at the ceiling—he thought about how he could've started the conversation with her.

The End

That Zooey Entry

A while back, I decided to finally get around to watching WEEDS and I really started to—


Oh.

Oh, hello, Zooey. I didn't realize that YOU were going to be on WEEDS.

I'm sorry, what was that...?

You want us to be boyfriend-girlfriend? And hold hands? And share all our hopes and dreams? And do super-cool stuff together?

And the only thing I need to do... is kill innocent people in your name?

Those hypnotic eyes...

That mischievous smile...

That luscious, milky complexion...

I would bludgeon baby seals for you, baby...

I'm prepared to do whatever I need to do to prove my obsession to you.

How many has Jason Schwartzman killed for you?

What? You say he hasn't even offered...??

Yes, I agree. It's unacceptable.

Let's face it: it's downright despicable.

Just tell me who needs to die.

Do you want me to kill Jason Schwartzman?

Tell me how many I need to slaughter.

I'd chainsaw-massacre all of Texas, just for one of your creamsicle-flavored kisses.

Why must all my celebrity crushes end in spree-killings?! In the name of God, WHY!!!

xxx
It's Misanthropy Central. I'm Malice Highload.

This week on our blog:

Loneliness in Five Acts.

Teen Fiction

Nothing quite so pervy as a 32-year-old man stepping into the children's section of Barnes & Nobles to peruse the "Teen Fiction" section...

I've been curious about this old mid-80s Young Adult novel called "The War Between the Classes" for a while. It was adapted into a CBS After School Special back in its day. Beyond that, as far as I can tell, it's been buried in time.

So far, I've read the first two pages and can already say that its concepts of race and class are severely dated. But there's something about the title and the premise, involving Ray Otero's THE COLOR GAME, that intrigues me. I'm not that up on the young adult literary world, but I think there's something that could be built upon this foundation.

I'm going to investigate it a little further and see where the rights are with it.

xxx
In other news, I've become a member of the WGAE's "activity committee" because... well, I don't know why. I kinda got sucked in, as I tend to with these things.

I went to a screenplay reading at the Jewish Community Center on the Upper West Side on Thursday night. Primarily for the free wine and cookies.

I sneaked out without saying goodbye to anyone because, well, it's a hobby of mine. As I was walking out the building, Jerry Stiller was walking in --

And I was all "Hey, that's Jerry Stiller!"

And then I went home and jerked off.

While You're Dying I'll Be Still Alive

I'm not even angry.
I'm being so sincere right now.
Even though you broke my heart.
And killed me.

And tore me to pieces.
And threw every piece into a fire.
As they burned it hurt because
I was so happy for you!

Go ahead and leave me.
(I think I prefer to stay inside.)
Maybe you'll find someone else
to help you...
I beat PORTAL twice in two nights.

Attention Non- and/or Casual-Gamers:

file this darkly comic puzzle-game wonder under "MUST PLAY".

I'm honestly ashamed it's taken me so long to get to it.

But there's no sense crying over every mistake. You just keep on trying till you run out of cake.

The Hand That Rocks the Cradle

I was watching a few minutes of "The Hand that Rocks the Cradle" the other day and was startled to realize that it starred Hilary Clinton.

Really, it's uncanny. Rebecca De Mornay's a shoe-in to play her when Oliver Stone makes the movie version.

(I was also surprised to see Californication's crazy hottie Madeline Zima in the movie, as a little girl.)

Honestly, it's a little sick that De Mornay is STILL so hot after all these years...

In other news:
When I said "deadly neurotoxin," the "deadly" was in massive sarcasm quotes. I could take a bath in this stuff. Put it on cereal, rub it right into my eyes... honestly, it's not deadly at all... to *me*. You, on the other hand, are going to find its deadliness... a lot less funny.

Fuck You Too!

"Coming to America" really showcases John Landis and Eddie Murphy (hell, even Arsenio Hall) at the top of their games. Caught it on one of the channels recently and I think it holds up fairly well, all things considered.

It also eerily foreshadows Murphy's grim addiction to hiding beneath layers of Rick Baker prosthetics, but to each his own.

CTA is filled with nudge-to-the-audience gags, but here are a few that struck me this time through...

Fun CTA Trivia!!!
Years before triumphantly costarring with Murphy in NORBIT, Cuba Gooding Jr. played the wordless role of "Boy Getting Haircut" in CTA.

Sam Jackson makes a cameo robbing McDowell's. (Incidentally, marking the last time in film history that Samuel L. Jackson, Arsenio Hall, Louie Anderson, Eriq La Salle and Eddie Murphy would ever be in a scene together.)

One of the men in the barbershop refers to Murphy's Akeem as "Kunta Kinte"—a reference to an African slave character in the '80s miniseries "Roots". CTA costar John Amos played the adult Kunta Kinte in that series!!!

Some Orozco kid is listed as the writer for a "Coming to America" movie that IMDB says is coming out in 2009.

Sparrow Confidential

Jenny forwarded me this great article last week, written by a guy who used to work as a "Jack Sparrow" at Disneyland...

For those too lazy to click-through...?

Choice excerpts:

Disney warned us we were going to have a lot of horny women coming on to us. They were also worried about girls. I heard Disneyland had an Esmeralda from The Hunchback of Notre Dame. She was very flirtatious, and they finally pulled her because men found her too sexually arousing and were acting out.

xxx

It took over an hour to get Disney’s suit on. In the dressing room there is one long makeup table and a wall with a long mirror. I think over 100 character actors were there. You had face characters like Jack, Aladdin, the Mad Hatter, and you had fuzzies, the characters in costumes. The face characters and the fuzzies dressed apart. There was a ranking system in the dressing room: If you were a princess, you pretty much got that long mirror wall. For some reason the Jacks always ended up in the back corner.

xxx

There is a big thing in the park about not being visually linked to another character. You’re told to stay in your area. But Pluto was a friend of mine, and one day he came over to see me. We posed for photos, and the next day he told me it was on YouTube. Eventually he got fired.

xxx

I'll be honest: I didn’t follow all the Disney rules. I played Jack like he was real, and if a woman flirted, I would flirt back. Women loved it. But there were also women who would have too many beers at California Adventure or smuggle in alcohol you could smell on their breath, women who were clearly sloshed.

Here’s a napkin someone wrote on for me: “I will give you a blow job on your break, so sexy! Kim—714-XXX-XXXX.” I would also get offers from women in my ear: “Anything you want, just find me.” I had a girl who had turned 18 the day before. She was with a high school group, and she wrote down her room number at the Downtown Disney hotel. I had a lady hump my leg one day in the park.