The temptation to write “I Be Illin” still wasn’t great enough to go there. I don’t think even white 41-year-olds say that anymore.
So for the two-and-a-half of you who read my blog, know that I haven’t done any for awhile because I’m sick this week. I won’t get into details, but it might not be a bad time to start the Ferris Bueller-ish “Save Tony” campaign.
It must be good to be the president. I wish I could get Earth, Wind & Fire to play one of my barbecues. In fact, if anyone knows Earth, Wind & Fire and thinks they might be around Concord this summer, please ask them if they would like to play in my back yard.
I can’t promise any pay, but the meat will be tasty and they can have all the free Pabst Blue Ribbon they’d like. Tell them I have some real fun friends and I thought, outside of Steven Tyler almost choking Peter Frampton, they were the best part of “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.” They can even bring their lasers and gongs and Egyptian stuff.
So I was taking what they call a “furlough” day yesterday for the second time this week. I don’t know why they don’t just call it a “we’re not going to pay you, so get the hell out of our sight” day, which is what it really amounts to.
Anyway, I made good use of the time by taking my daughter to Heather Farm Park for a bike ride.
We stopped by the natural lake and talked a bit. I told her that, from what my good friend Gary Bogue tells me, river otters and beavers occasionally find their way down to the lake from the Delta.
I was blithering for a few more seconds when my kid said “Look dad — it’s an otter.” Now, understand that my kid swears she sees SpongeBob in our yard and Bigfoot on Mount Diablo. So I was like “OK, knock it off.” She said “No, really — LOOK!”
Many of my friends have video of me doing my, uh, usual wedding dance routine. That is to say I go out on the dance floor and make up as many insane, cramp-inducing, jerk-moves as possible, while doing my best to pose seductively for the ladies. I do this because, as hard as it is to admit this, I still crave as much attention for acting out as I did when I was 9 years old. Yet I refuse to ever watch any of the tapes or weddings may no longer be fun for me.
As Conan O’Brien counts down the days until he switches time slots on NBC, he’s recalling some of his favorite moments: one of which was the day he spent shooting guns and drinking whiskey with Hunter S. Thompson.
This was the day many of us wish we could’ve had with Hunter before he killed himself. My favorite part of the video is when Hunter, after firing on a cut-out of Bill Buckner, suddenly screams “you dirty ANIMAL.”
Remember the kid who went to the dentist, and his dad videotaped him all drugged up, and we all had a good laugh, never mind the fact that the kid is going to be screwed up for the rest of his life because of it?
Anyways, the guys at Funny or Die have mashed up that video with the audio from Christian Bale’s now infamous rant at someone on the set for walking into his line of sight while filming a scene for the new Terminator movie.
Joaquin Phoenix – who has recently said he was quitting acting to become a rapper – was on Letterman last night. And it was probably the most awkward, strangest interview in the history of such things.
There’s been lots of speculation that Phoenix’s career switch is a hoax, mainly because of his bizarre attempt at rapping recently in Las Vegas.That and the fact that his brother-in-law Casey Affleck was documenting the whole thing for some sort of documentary. I’m not so sure – he seems really gun shy and completely lost on Letterman. I think something inside this guy’s brain has snapped. Then again, he is a great actor.
The trailer is circulating for Quentin Tarantino’s “Inglourious Basterds.” And it looks like it may just be a tad bit violent.
I know — the mild-mannered, poor-spelling Tarantino usually stays away from violence, sex and men executing prisoners with baseball bats. No more.
The plot goes something like this: Brad Pitt and his terribly unattractive mustache take a ragtag crew of really mean soldiers into Nazi-occupied France to kill every Nazi they can find as violently as possible. Each is assigned the delicate task of collecting 100 Nazi scalps.