NOhawk

Over the past couple of days I helped out my roommate by manning one of the PS3 booths at the Streetfest. It was really easy work, consisting primarily of people watching and answering any Sony-related questions that the denizens had, of which there were few. Anywho, the people watching took up the majority of my time, and in the process I noticed an alarmingly high number of people sporting Mohawks. I really do not understand the appeal of this hairstyle at all . . . So I decided to do a little Wiki-research on this, the most socially unacceptable of coiffures.

The term "Mohawk" originated from the name of an Indian tribe in upstate New York. I already knew this . . . I didn't, however, know that they lived in longhouses instead of tepees. Just like Little Bear from Indian in the Cupboard! These Mohawk Indians were pretty intense, and apparently only the warriors war the hairstyle. This is presumably to scare the fuck out of the enemies, especially these guys:

I know for a fact that if I was this fag back in the 1700s, wielding a single-shot musket and weighted down by 30 pounds of superfluous clothing and I saw a near-naked Indian with a crazy hairdo charging at me with a homemade bludgeon that I would shit my pants instantly. That, folks, is the purpose of the hairstyle, and it was mighty effective . . .

Fast-forward a couple hundred years and we find ourselves at the birth of the punk movement. Basically a bunch of malnourished British kids started dressing wacky and hating everything. Then a select few of these "punks" started writing songs about all the things that they hated. The hairstyle of choice of these kids (at least the one that the media latched onto,) was the Mohawk. The modern advances in hair-color-altering chemicals gave the punks a rainbow of options to personalize their 'dos.
After 20-or-so years of pissing people off, the Mohawk became passé. The punks held onto their hair-gel-consuming hairstyle, however, despite the fact that toddlers have them. Shit like this is becoming the norm everywhere:

Not only are children bastardizing the original shit-your-pants-inducing intent of the Mohawk, but male fashionistas everywhere have made their own version of style. I like to call it the non-committal Mohawk, because Faux Hawk sounds pretentious. Men in designer clothes take their normal-everyday short hairstyle and comb it up in the shape of Mohawk. This of course is a pussy way to wear a Mohawk, and makes the whole thing even more annoying than if they went all out in the first place!

Now-a-days there is nothing at all shocking about a Mohawk. There is no statement to be made by having one, other than letting everyone know that you are, in fact, an idiot.

Mike Myers? FTW!

All over the country today, Mike Myers' latest exercise in unfunny self-indulgence thinly disguised as a film opens in theaters. Unless you live your life like the uni-bomber, you've no doubt been bombarded with the cram-it-down-your-throat advertising campaign that has managed to plaster Myers' stupid face on everything from billboards to postage stamps. I don't know about you guys, but I hope that The Love Guru ends up being the Waterloo of Mike Myers movies; once and for all putting an end to a career consisting of 15 years of recycled gags.

"Hey, look! He put his pinkie up again! Whatta gas!"

In the post-Wayne's World-era of Myers' career, he's made one film that has been the embodiment of every fucking thing he has ever done since. That film is, of course, So I Married an Axe Murderer. Within the 90-or-so-minutes of Axe Murderer, you'll see the makings of every character that has managed to make Mike Myers a billionaire and a household name in the subsequent years. Here's just one example, presented in easy to understand visual format:

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The angry Scottish man voice is so funny! Seriously, though . . . three fucking characters? Has anyone noticed this? Does anyone even care?! I think it's a travesty that Myers is literally wallowing in money, when his old comedic partner and the real reason behind the hilarity of Wayne's World, Dana Carvey, can't get a fucking break. But I digress . . .

As I said before, this is only one example. The gamut of Austin Powers characters make an appearance in way or in another in So I Married an Axe Murderer. The only thing that is really missing from Myers' comedic arsenal is the presence of Vern Troyer. Although I'm sure if Myers had discovered the little guy with no self-respect way back then, you best believe he would've found a way to shoehorn his tiny ass into the script.

"I'm funny because I'm short!"

I suggest we all make a pact to not go see The Love Guru this weekend. Doing so will only result in more movies featuring all three of his impressions, Vern Troyer being short jokes, cameos by flavor-of-the-month celebrities, and nauseatingly persistent ad campaigns.

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Keanu Peeved

The other day I got it in my head that I needed to watch Point Break again. You know, the one where young FBI agent Johnny Utah attempts to infiltrate a community of surfers who are also bank robbers? Anyways, it's a fucking classic, despite the fact that said FBI agent is played by the deplorable Keanu Reeves.

I've tried to understand why someone as talentless as Reeves has managed to maintain a successful career for over 20 years. I suppose that there will always be a need for characters that say "dude" a lot in movies, and he's definitely the go-to man for those roles.

But despite how much he sucks, he's been making movies for a long, long time. So quantitatively speaking, there's bound to be a couple more movies that he hasn't managed to completely by simply being cast in them, right? Let us examine this. Here I have assembled a list of the best non-Point Break Keanu Reeves movies.

The River's Edge, 1987
This [mostly] brilliant teen-angst drama focuses on the lives of several friends and their ambivalent reactions to a murder. Reeves is perfectly cast as a teen that says "dude" a lot. We also get to witness some real acting from the likes of Crispin Glover and Dennis Hopper.

Parenthood, 1989
A multi-generational examination of why having children will ultimately ruin your life. Reeves is charming in his portrayal of Diane Wiest's daughter's boyfriend that says "dude" a lot. The rest of the cast is like a who's-who of early 90's movies, with Steve Martin, Mary Steenburgen, Rick Moranis, MARTHA PLIMPTON, and Tom Hulce.

Speed, 1994
A bus armed with explosives must maintain a speed of at least 50 miles-per-hour or else it will explode. Bitchin'! The only problem is that Sandra Bullock is driving, and she sucks pretty hard. Reeves seems to reprise his role of Johnny Utah here, only with a shaved head this time. Dennis Hopper shows up once again opposite Reeves as the madman that put the explosives on the bus. If you like this one, be sure to check out the sequel, Speed 2: Cruise Control, I heard it was pretty good.*







*Just kidding!

Leave Kitty alone!

As I was driving up the street about to turn into my apartment today, I saw a woman pushing what looked like a stroller. A second glance, however, revealed that it wasn't a stroller at all, but some sort of feline-torture device. I know people love their pets--and some people really love their pets--but come on!

I've only had one cat in my life (RIP Lucy,) which by no means makes me an expert, though I'm pretty sure that every cat on the planet would hate being rolled around in one these contraptions more than being sprayed with a garden hose. So I beg of you, cat-owners, let your cats be the lazy balls of allergens that they are, and stop contributing to the industry of ridiculous and unnecessary bourgeois pet products.

I also got Stockard Channing and Olympia Dukakis mixed up today. But that's another story!

Strike Four

Being excited about the fourth installment of the Indian Jones series goes against everything I believe in. I am always the first to poo-poo such blatant Hollywood profiteering at the expense of idiotic fanboyism, but fuck . . . It looks so cool!

It's been 19-g0ddamn years since Harrison Ford last outing as the world's most intrepid archaeologist and since that time, the business has changed for the worst. Stuntmen have been replaced by CGI and movie sets are nothing more than a sound stage with a huge green screen suspended from the ceiling. This computer-generated chicanery has taken a lot of the "gee wiz!" out of modern blockbusters. I can't even enjoy these movies, because my cynical ass spends the whole time trying to find the cuts where Spider-Man goes from costumed-Tobey McGuire to animated puppet. So I offer this plea: Please! Don't do that to my beloved Indie!

I know my begging is in vain, considering the film has been in the can for months and is now just a couple of days away from release . . . but wishful thinking never hurt anybody, right? And fuck, who am I kidding? I'm gonna go see the thing regardless of any amount of negative reviews I read and CGI-overflowing trailers that I see.

I have high hopes, but I'm pretty sure that I will treat the film like I treat all of the modern superfluous sequels to established series that have come out in recent years. Example:

Die Hard was (and still is, in my eyes) a trilogy. Three movies that I will continue to watch until I'm old and impotent because I enjoy Bruce Willis' everyman hero John McClain and explosions. But the money grubbing bastards weren't satisfied to let me have my three-film set, oh no! They decided to unleash upon the world a PG-13 abortion of a film starring an over-the-hill Willis and then had the audacity to call it Die Hard 4! I paid my money and watched it, but I don't recognize it as an official part of the Die Hard canon. I see it for what it is. And it will exist thusly for me, and I hope for other fans of the series as well.

This new Indiana Jones will likely find a place on the shelf next to Die Hard 4 and Terminator 3. It's a movie that never should have been made.

But hey, who wants to go see it with me!?

Dribble

The single best thing I saw all week was a poodle sticking out of the window of a truck wearing a rugby shirt. That is, the poodle was wearing the shirt, not the truck . . . Hilarious! If my camera-phone-photography skills were up to snuff as they should be, you best believe I would've taken a pic of that amazing sight. Sadly though, your imagination will just have to do. I suppose you could Google "poodle in rugby shirt" and probably get some satisfactory results. Gotta love the interweb . . .

You know what else you should love? Grand Theft Auto IV. I know, I know . . . I'm as disappointed in myself as you all are with me given the amount of time that I have let pass by without contributing my opinion of "TEH B3ST GAME EVAR!" I bought it on launch day for the PS3 because I couldn't possibly give a fuck less about the exclusive downloadable content that's coming out later on for the 360. So yeah, Sony fanboys unite!

It really is an amazing experience. Once you get over the fact that the characters still look a lot like Muppets, you'll be totally engrossed. It is a little weird, though, I must admit, the first time you see a Muppet-esque character doing a line of cocaine. But after that it's all good!

I'm not terribly far into the game, because my progress has been marred by two things: my general lack of GTA adroitness and Boom Blox. I die in the game. A lot. I'm not ashamed to admit that. The controls are way better than Rockstar's PS2 outings, but they still will lead me to my death rather often. That isn't to say that it's frustrating, it's quite the contrary. The open-ended nature of the game allows you attempt missions multiple ways, which will be necessary if you suck as much as I do.

The hype is fucking annoying, I know. But try to ignore it and experience the game for yourself. If you have an Xbox 360 or a PS3 and aren't one of those hardcore, conservative, violent videogames-caused-Columbine-kinda moms, then you'll surely love it.