Sunday, January 27, 2008

Stop paying for Netflix. I have Netflix. I watch the movies you don't, and review them for you.

I review Claire Dolan. A movie you have never seen before.


I watch movies like Claire Dolan because I have class, and you don't. You probably sit around all day eating Cheetos and watching movies like Norbit on Cinemax. You think movies with over-stylized acting and slow pace suck. You like movies with action and a plot that makes sense. You don't like movies that are "clinically austere" and movies who's actors are "cold and affectless." You hate long movies with lots of conversation. You won't sit through a movie that tries to get by with just dialogue.

I jacked off before watching this movie. I don't recommend you do the same. Because the movie is about a hooker. And movies about hookers usually have lots of sex in them. Claire Dolan not only is a movie with lots of sex, but with tons of tit scenes. The tits of actress Katrin Cartlidge appear on screen for more time than any other character in the movie. Katrin gives an incredible performance. And her tits are magnificent. Several times in the movie Katrin wears a deep v-neck white blouse. Katrin has a longer than average torso and small pert breasts that are perfectly exposed by the office sexy sheer materials of her 500 dollar top.


Claire owes a great deal of money to a very bad guy. Like most women who are born "whores" she decides the best way to pay it off is to become a hooker. After Claire's mommy dies she gets sadder than a woman who sells herself for money to pay a debt to a very mean and large bad guy. Claire decides to runaway from her life in New York. Claire's idea of a good hiding place from a big time pimp from NYC is Newark. Claire's cousin lives in Newark. In Newark, Claire, can stroke the faces of random babies without drawing too much attention.

Like all failed prostitutes Claire tries her hand at cosmetology. She listens and tends to boring women by cleanng their nails. Katrin the actress has very nice nails. I can imagine myself as a reporter ready to introduce myself to her before a publicity interview. I'd be really nervous. I'd fear she'd be bored by me and another publicity interview. I am sure she is until I remark what nice nails she has. I tell her that I am surprised that she has "real" nails and compliment her on all the "hard work" of taking care of her nails. Katrin would thank me for noticing. She would flirt with me and let me in on her little secret "that men rarely understand the difficulties women go through in order to have natural nails."

Claire eventually meets Elton. A man she decides to have a baby with. Elton is a nice regular guy who drives a Taxi. Elton is played by Vincent D’Onofrio from Law & Order who decided not to shave for the movie and is a real life schizophrenic. I think Elton has an ex-wife and a kid. I am pretty sure there is a scene where he is talking about sending child support check to his ex-wife. Only he never says the words "child support." We do meet a 13 or 14 year old girl that could be his daughter. He drops her off at home and gives her money. He then tells the girl not to tell her mother that he is giving her money. "Buy yourself something nice." He tells her. She thanks him, but she never calls him dad. In fact she calls Elton by his first name. I thought that scene was a little creepy. But maybe I am just reading into things.

Elton is a not such a nice guy. We know he buys a prostitute later in the movie. Ostensibly he buys the prostitute to know what Claire is going through in her life as a hooker. But the hooker he buys just happens to be the hooker from Budapest that Claire finds quite beautiful. Elton follows Claire around after her pimp discovers Newark is just a cab ride away from Downtown. The pimp drags Claire back and forces her to go back to work. Elton follows Claire to a "date" and watches as she fucks another guy. At first Claire seems turned off by the idea of fucking her John while her soon to be Baby's Daddy is watching. But like all good workers she just grunts her way through it.


The male "heroes" in these kind of movies always get punched, but never defend themselves. They are terrible fighters who go down on one punch. Like a punch to the gut. Followed by some chocking. Elton is no exception, so when Colm Meany tells him "I've been expecting you." I was totally expecting Elton to get his ass kicked. No disappointment, he does. Though Colm buys him a shot to make up for the ass kicking, and he gives him some wonderful advice. "You can't make a ho' a housewife."

After Elton finds out that his new girlfriend is a sex worker he rushes straight home to have sex with her. Followed by an akward scene where an axious Elton asks Claire if she had an orgasm during their recent sex act.

"Did u cum?" He asks.
Can't you tell? She replies.

Elton and Claire do not discuss Cuckoldry, they discuss how they will get through "this." Elton offers Claire money to help pay off the debt. And like a hooker Claire accepts the money.

I know if you were making this movie, your hooker characters would not have the same hang ups as ordinary women. That would make your girlfriend too uncomfortable. But just like your girlfriend, after fucking another guy, Claire-the-hooker misses her boyfriend. She calls him sometimes just because she misses him. She even gets ticked off at him when he has to go out of town on buisness. I don't know a lot of cab drivers who need to go out of town on buisness. Maybe there was some kind of taxi cab driver convention he needed to go to. Unlike Claire I think we should give Elton the benefit of the doubt. Instead Claire just gives Elton one of those passive aggressive pissed off faces women are famous for.

Katrin Cartlidge definitely has that pissed of girlfriend look down. I was so turned on by Katrin that I kept interrupting the flow of the movie with fantasies about married life with the young hot actress. That is until she sported the sorta bored "oh really" look every guy in the world has seen. You know what I am talking about, right guys? If you still don't know what I am talking about and your boyfriend is reading this review out loud to you, go look at yourself in the mirror right now. That's the face I am talking about. That's the face she gave Elton and the face that told me that I too could get bored looking at the face of Katrin.

After sometime we find that Claire has moved to Chicago and has trouble finding a job and is interrupted while eating lunch by former John's.

Elton marries another woman and gets her pregnant. He remains a wimp of a man. When he and his new wife bump into the pimp on the corner of a street, he is fearful that the pimp will reveal his secret life to his bride. However, the pimp only mentions the birth of his new son while fondling Elton's wife's protruding belly.

The End.

The Total Box Office for this movie was: 0 dollars. This movie has been awarded the Seal Of Approval. If you don't like this movie you are an ignorant ass.

Friday, January 25, 2008

I give you something that none of you, but the Drug Monkey, have ever given me. Money. Don't you like me better now?

First I tell you the story of how I was married.

I was married a few years ago. If you gueesed that I wasn't married very long, you'd be right. I think it was for like 8 or 9 months. Just long enough time for all my friends to grumble about giving me a wedding present. But not long enough for me to feel bad about not giving my presents back. Not that I could have given them back if I wanted too, since the Mexican wife took them with her after she left.

At the age of 15 Mexican fathers must stop molesting their daughters and then allow them to get married. It's the law.

I like to think of myself as a champion of interracial marriage because I bang a lot of Latinas. I used to think I had some kind of strange power over Mexican women. And not just because I convinced a Mexican to marry me. I can't go to Circle K without some chubby Hispanic girl giving me the eyes. I thought Mexicans just loved white people. I figured any Mexican who ran across the border probably identified more with her Spanish heritage than her indigenous side. I was wrong.

Turns out Mexicans just dig me because I am short. 5 foot 8 for a white guy is pathetic, but deep in the Mexican jungle, I am god-like. White alabaster skin and I block out the sun with my height. I think jungle natives make a sacrifice of 2 teen virgins a week to me. It's not that strange that Mexican women love me I guess. They figure a midget like them can't get with a talll white guy, and they know don't want to settle for a short mexican man since they jumped the fence . And while I might be short compared to your boyfriend, I am the Kareen Abdul-Jabbar of Mexico. Any cute Mexican girl worth her margarita salt is not going to pass up an oppurtunity like that.

My Mexican ex-wife liked to complain about how I was always on the Internet. She hated how I was always rating hot chicks on, Am I hot or not, or blogging for you fools. She did not see my time on the Internet blogging as any kind of career move for me. I'm sure she'd change her mind if she'd heard how after I placed my donate button on this blog I'd been able to earn a cool total of $3.63. All thanks to this nifty little post. With that kind of money I could put her in that nice trailer I was always threatening to move her into. In spite of the many faults that my ex-wife discovered in me, I am nothing if not loyal to my friends. And you Internet creeps are my only friends. So I've decided to let you in on a little money making secret that discovered.

I let you in on the Internet making money scheme I know about for free.

I was afraid of getting married. I had no less than 3 panic attacks before the big day. After we got married I had a heart attack. Well at least that's what I am calling it. You didn't look at my chart, so what would you know? All I know is the whole mess cost my insurance company 10, 000 dollars so there must have been something to it.

Before we got married the wifey would ask me daily when we were going to "be legit?" I tried ignoring her questions, but soon she was asking it 5 or 6 times and hour. It got to the point that I hated going to the mall with her, because she would always drag me to some jeweler to take a look at the engagement rings. The salesman would ask when the big day was and she'd become indignant, "He hasn't even asked me yet!" She'd scream at him, like it was his fault.Well eventually she found a ring she like and she told me that she really wanted to get the ring. I said sure and she said, "But you haven't even asked me yet."

So that's how she got asked, in the middle of some mall quietly so as not to alert the salespeople to our little indiscretion. We had to put the ring on her credit because mine is ..well it's about what you'd think it is. Craptastic. And she told me that the payments would come out of my paycheck. And they did. To the total of something like 2500.00 dollars. I'd like to think I had the least romantic marriage proposal in history, but I think we should all ask Card Shark to tell his story sometime. It's frigging hilarious.

I know what you are thinking. All this backstory and you still haven't mentioned how you are going to make me some money. If in the last 14 year like me you were somehow convinced to buy a sharpened piece of compressed carbon for one of your significant others you can get a rebate on the purchase price.

Seems the evil guys over at De Beers got caught in some corporate misdeeds and settled a lawsuit for 275 million dollars. Now that's not what I'd just call corporate malfeasance, I think I'm gonna have to call shenanigans on that. Actually, evil-shenanigans. Because my shenanigans are just cheeky and fun.

Go here to collect your money. You only have a few months as the deadline is May 18, 2008.

And after you collect your check think about your old friend Romius t. and how he doesn't have a lap top computer to call his own. Think of how he pines away at all the cool and totally "legit" part time bloggers at Starbucks, sipping lattes, posting blogs, and pretending to write that screenplay. And maybe, just maybe you think you can enjoy all the stuff you'll buy with that big shiny check without sending a tithing or two my way.
I dare ya.


Thursday, January 24, 2008

I teach you things about Lesbians

I like the fact that the only people who read me are fat lesbians. I say fat lesbian like there is some other kind. I'm sorry about that fat lesbian crack. I know a lot of fat lesbians, and I don't mean to hurt your feelings.  In fact most of my girlfriends have been fat lesbians, so I've learned a few things about them because of that.

Like I know the different categories Lesbians.  First there are the masculine Boy-lesbians. Boy lesbians look a lot like prepubescent boys. They have short spiky hair, they wear boxer shorts and hang their pants off their ass like gangsters do. Boy lesbians scare the shit out of me. Boy-lesbians are militant feminists. And even though they are anti-penis they love penetration. Sometimes a boy-lesbian tries to pass herself off as a guy. Don' worry too much guys, boy-lesbians don't want to physically transform into a man, because being a boy-lesbian is so much fun. The just want to try on being a man. You know like finding out what it's like to pay for dinner and shit. Boy-Lesbians [aggressives] love to hook up with lipstick lesbians.

Lipstick lez's aren't even lesbians, they are just tired of guys getting "off " before they finish their orgasms. Watch out for a Lipstick lesbians. They will blame you for all their sexual problems. I know a lot of lipstick gals who've never used a vibrator or explored their pussies with a mirror or even watched an entire episode of Rosanne. How do they expect to achieve orgasm with some one else when they can't even give one to themselves?

The other kind of lipstick lesbians can only get off using a vibrator and so have ruined themselves for normal dick. I have two words for those bitches. Fuck no! I am not inserting a metal rod sideways into my dick just because your shit is so stretched out from giant black dildos and numb from that pocket rocket electrocution that you can't feel my three inches of thunder!

If you aren't a lipstick vag or boy lesbian then you are probably on of those fat lesbians.  Too the fatties reading this and getting pissed off at me, don't. I know you aren't the kind of fat lesbian that turned her vagina away from dick, because the guys don't like you. You're fat. But not ugly. If you had a six pack of beer, a copy of Planet of the Apes for us to watch, and could stomach laughing at my jokes for an hour, you could get laid by me.

Then there is the reluctant lesbian, or the lesbian who just had too much religon mixed in her mommie's baby sack. Reluctant lesbians know that lovin' a chick is wrong and will get them to hell. But they have such overgrown clits that every time a hot chick walks by they get a boner like I did in 6th grade swim class. I remember how I forgot my swim trunks that day and had to borrow a pair of green see-through speedos that the school supplied for the idiots who forgot their trunks.  All those cute girls walked past me and I checked out their stiff nipples and got a boner. Only nobody knew you had one because I hadn't hit puberty yet, so my little wiener was more a like a Vienna Sausage than a life-sized cock.

I have no idea if that's why I developed that fetish for naked male /clothed female porn, or if the Vienna sausage thing got me excited about Sigmund Freud, and he made me want to be a psychologist until you figured out that would require a lot of work, and I was a lot more interested in jacking off than reading books and doing homework.

(I can teach you a thing or two about fat chicks. Even Though you may hate fat chicks.)

Because you are not the kinda fat chick who's pussy stinks, you may not know a lot about stinky pussy. First point of fact. If you are fat chick and if you think you have never had a stinky pussy, then I have some seriously fucked up news for you. Your pussy stinks. Your pussy always stinks and it's stinking right now. Do me a favor. Sneak a peak down there. Ok, now go smell that finger. I hope we got clear on this, Captain Tuna! You get my point.

The best thing about fat chicks is they have cleavage. And the best thing about cleavage is it look a lot like ass, only tits and cleavage don't drip shit out accidentally. The scary thing about fat tits on chicks is sometimes those chicks don't really have big tits. I mean sometimes it looks like they got a big rack. But sometimes those tits will turn out to just be a big fold. Some fat chicks have a skinny girl's small tit genes and just love to eat. And some fat chicks just have the random bad luck to have small tits and a giant frame. I've paid money for freak shows, but I always ask for my money back it they show me into a room full of fat chicks with tiny tits.

Some things are just too freaky, even for T.

p.s. funny thing is I wrote all this shit before I watched the documentary "aggressives." I just watched the documentary because I downloaded it for free from the public library.

p.s.s. I prefer the term I invented for aggressives, boy-lesbians. Don't you?

Friday, January 18, 2008

Not that you wanted any, but your privacy just ended

If you are Conservative you will want to know if I am biased. I will tell you I am. I know that means I worry about class warfare. And you think supporting workers in the battle is wrong. You worry that it will leave my analysis biased. I worry that Terminator-The Sara Connor Chronicles is real. I worry that the robots are going to take over the world one day. I'm not so sure it hasn't happened already. But I know one day it will, and that day scares the shit out of me.

If you pay attention to this blog, then I don't need to tell about the end of privacy. If you don't follow this blog and you were one of those people who planned on fighting battles and getting in before the war was lost, forget it. The war is lost and over.

Not that many of you actually care about privacy. Patriots and right-winged nutjobs have got nothing to hide, so they don't mind being spied on. They don't mind if Bush reads their e-mail, or taps their phones. They don't care that millions of close circuit TV cameras are following them around town. I guess people who consider themselves potential victims feel safer when they are observed by authority. I know most Republicans don't seem to mind George looking over their shoulders, but I have a question for them. What happens when it's Hillary spying on you? Will you be concerned then?

I never counted on Old Scared White People to defend privacy in the face of millions of Mexicans streaming across the border, but young people today are even worse advocates for privacy than their ultra-conservative grandparents. Generation Y'ers can't remember a time when there was privacy. And most youth today wouldn't want more privacy, even if it were available.

Worrying about privacy requires that a child be born into a culture that's at least a tiny bit circumspect. Instead our culture is one where every 15 year old girl broadcasts "SexxY" pictures of herself on MySpace. The sixties had free love, one could expose oneself and still fight for civil rights. Generation Y's lewd behavior is the younger generation's reenactment of their parents tendency to overexpose.
Young people have a right to rebel against taboos of sex and skin they find to be too closed minded. We are an uptight society that could stand to loosen its Victorian ways a bit. But flaunting your goodies on Myspace and Facebook isn't just breaking taboos, it's serving to destroy privacy rights. Gen Y'ers lack of modesty on social network sites generates tons of interest from fellow Gen Y members and older perverts, all this excitement drives commerce to corporations who's sole focus is destroying privacy rights.

The current generation has no idea what it's agreed to in the small print of all those social network websites. Facebook's idiocy aside, there are plenty more dangerous and insidious threats to our privacy than isolated web trackers and Google's omniscient search engine. ACLU types may take a sigh of relief when G.W. Bush's reign of stupidity is done. A democrat or slightly less crazy Republican is likely to win the 2008 election and relax our governments big brother operations. AT&T will certainly be disappointed, but I'm sure they will get over it. But they may find a way to keep their operations going.

If they don't, even if one company's efforts are thwarted, another one's will be championed:

Microsoft announced today that it "is patenting technology to wirelessly monitor a worker's productivity." The software will be able to monitor employees heart rates, stress levels, brain signals, and even their facial expressions.

That's right folks. Soon you won't even be able to make a face when the boss asks you to stay late. A computer will read your thoughts, facial expressions and alert your supervisor. He'll probably just have a talk with you and schedule for some time in the Nuero Re-programmer.

The working poor are not bothered by this. The poor have always been directly supervised. They never get a moment for creativity. But the lack of autonomy in their jobs keep the poor from understanding the additional layer of authority that computing power has given capital. The poor could always count on human error, or the pure inattentiveness from a supervisor that was one of their own, to catch a break. But computers don't take time off. They never miss a thing. They will scrutinize and monitor your behavior constantly.

If you don't want any rights just sit back and do nothing. Sooner than I'd like, Capital will exert complete control over all of our lives. If you don't want your every inner thought and behavior subject to observation and control you will have to fight. Start demanding privacy now. The Constitution won't help you. Bush has shown us it's just a piece of paper when there is no constituency mobilized to protect it. I promise you that Capitalism is slowly working the path to destroy your privacy. It will be good for the economy, and that means the rich will use it against you.

The new economy and the end of privacy won't be good for you. The only thing we have left to fight their plan is outrage. Public outrage stopped FaceBook. I would have suggested a strike to get their attention, but I have no faith in the working class. The poor have forgotten that without labor, wealth is not created. The rich don't care to be reminded of that fact at all. The rich prefer to distract the working poor with tales of social capital. Let us grant any argument they make as true. I don't care if all of their points are true. If we stop working the rich will remember our power, but if we don't understand the new challenges the Surveillance Society has in store for us; the constant surveillance and monitoring of our behavior. Under such a threat any act of rebellion will be trampled and extinguished, and then we will be truly doomed to the End Of Privacy.

Saturday, January 05, 2008

Britney Spears is a white trash faliure at being a Mom, so no one minds if she tries to kill herself,at least Larry King can blog how he hates Dr Phil

I hear voices. Baby jesus talks to me through a toaster oven. He tells me I need to check on some things at my Laotian mini-wife turkey baster impregnation farm. The morning is cold, grey and overcast. A Black helicopter's spotlight breaks through the clouds, peering down at me.

George Bush's secret "fascists escape route" is located next door to me in the remote Paraguayan jungle. I know this because of the black helicopters that constantly encircle my farm and because I am on good terms with, Steve Nash' s wife, the world's third most famous Paraguayan.

At one of the pump stations I meet up with Mini-wife #434. She has on stiletto heals that add 3 inches in height. That brings her to a full 2 foot 3. She's proud of her heels and she stands provocatively as to show them off. If she were green you'd swear to god she was leprechaun.

"Ohh, Larry, me love you long time." Asian mini wife number 434 coos.
"Gamble...gamble." My tiny Laotian mini-wife barks at me. She points to a pumping station. "Ok. Ok, I'll get somebody on that."

It's early. And I need my breakfast. But the goddamn toaster won't shut up. He keeps shouting something about a gurney and being hauled off. And how K-fed is the Antichrist. And Britney isn't crazy. But I've seen that girls pussy and it looks like somebody gave it a good whack with a meat tenderizer. I tell the toaster oven that I think Britney's found god, just like that Baptist woman from Houston who killed all her kids in the bathtub. I tell the toaster to mind his own business, that frankly having to deal with Doctor Phil trying to bust you out of rehab is as close as any of us ever wants to get to the apocalypse. That one of the authors of the "Left Behind" rapture books thought about adding the exact same scene in a chapter of his book, but it was deemed too frightening by his publishers. "I can imagine the unending torment of a lake pit of fire in hell," I tell the toaster, "but I can't imagine the pain of having to listen to 15 straight minutes of Dr. Phil's southern bullshit."

Larry King blogs every Thursday night at 6 P.M., when he's not too drunk he posts. Visit Larry King Blogs here and be his best friend forever on the MySpace. 776 Laotian Mini-Wives crave Larry's cock and don't know why.

Tuesday, January 01, 2008

It's only 663 years before the conquest, I don't know how you can celebrate New Years.

There are a lot of things I don't understand in the world. Like why American Movie Classics is playing all five Planet of the Apes movies as part of a New Years Day marathon. I have no idea what talking monkeys has to do with celebrating new years, but I never graduated from high school so you'll have to excuse me.

I love the Ape movies, but one thing I never understood about them was why those movies always tried to make you feel sorry for the monkeys. I mean the monkeys in that movie are out to kill people. It's like Ingred Newkirk from PETA made the world's greatest SCI-FI movie just to confuse my ass. Somehow that crazy PETA bitch got a bunch of homicidal talking monkeys to seem sympathetic. "Humans kill humans, but apes don't kill apes." That bit of wisdom is mouthed by Cornelius in Escape from the Planet of the Apes. Silly monkey. Humans are Apes.

I know there are things I don't understand besides all the logical inconsistencies in the Planet of the Apes movies, but I am not allowed to write about Jamie-Lynn Spears. Of course I refused to write about obvious things like britney spears baby sister getting knocked up before. I don't like writing about things as they happen. I don't want a bunch of bandwagon fans reading this blog. All ready to many people I know read this blog now. SO I have to censor everything I say. Can you imagine if corporate read my blog? Or what if any of my prospective employers look me up on MySpace? So as long as I have to censor my thoughts to the fifth order this is what you get.