My fave movies of the past decade? “Little Miss Sunshine” and “Slumdog Millionaire” — two films that felt “small”…and yet both made my spirit soar. As I sat in a dark theatre watching them, I recall looking at the delighted, rapturous faces all around me and thinking, “THIS is why I come to movies — and THIS is what movies CAN and SHOULD be: extraordinary characters, extraordinary story.”
Optimus Prime can suck my dick.
This is the astounding circus punk marching band, Mucca Pazza. They are all old band geeks who get together and tour the country and TURN THAT SHIT OUT. The next time these awesome motherfuckers come to LA, I am SO going. Listen to this tune and imagine my big fatass snaking through that crowd doing a BIG FAT GENIE DANCE. SO ALL!
The world is a poorer, much less interesting place without Johnny Cash in it.
One of my favorite songs of all time and one that I have requested be played at my bacchanalia/wake when my fatass finally exits-stage-left for scandalous and delightful regions beyond. I AM a highwayman.
“I fly a starship across the Universe divide, and when I reach the other side…I’ll find a place to rest my spirit …if I can. Perhaps I may become a highwayman again. Or I may simply be a single drop of rain…but I will remain — and I’ll be back again, and again and again and again and again…”
Last month I saw The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus and, I gotta tell you, it was in the TOP FIVE WORST FILMS I HAVE EVER SEEN — and trust me, I have seem some bad fucking movies. Aside from the production design — which, like all Gilliam films, was positively exquisite — watching this film was like gazing at an extraordinarily beautiful, yet boring, and completely insane woman…who hurls her turds at you.
I am still not recovered.
Last month, the BIG Texas-Alabama game was played like five seconds from my house and all day there were noisy goddamned news choppers following me EVERYWHERE…vast, humming, rotating legions of ’em. It was like Goodfellas up in this motherfucker — the only thing missing was the muscle car, the cool 70s tune, the brown paper bag full of untraceable handguns, and the EXTREME cocaine sweats and paranoia.
Shit…that’s like a Tuesday night for me.
OH, YEAH. Spoon’s “Cherry Bomb” is my fucking groove for the day. Christ, when those horns come in, it’s like touching the face of god. I wish you could see my fatass snaking and strutting around this goddamned room right now — sort of a combination of Little Eva doing the Locomotion…and Spicoli bringin’ it home onstage at the Big Dance Finale in “Fast Times.” Man, life is amazing, NOW IDN’T IT?
You wanna know “What Jesus Would Do”? Jesus would tuck his greasy, girlish bouffant behind his ears, jauntily lift the front of his stinking, homespun robes, get a good running start, and kick both Pat Robertson and Rush Limbaugh right in their ignorant fucking tacos. Jesus ruled.
“When I think about my relationship with America, I feel like a battered wife: Yeah, he knocks me around a lot, but boy, he sure can dance.” — Sarah Vowell, Take the Cannoli: Stories from the New World
Muffy Bolding is eatin’ chili dogs and lettin’ shit slide.
muffy bolding 