Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Jake Taylor has really let himself go
Last night, I arrived home to see several gigantic trailers and production trucks pulling up to the sidewalk outside my house. I got all excited, thinking they might be filming more episodes of "Law and Order:SVU" there and I could get a glimpse of Tracy "Ice-T" Marrow, his buxom ho-bag of a wife CoCo, or the hotness that is Mariska Hargitay running around my hood. However, I couldn't discern from the "No Parking By Order of the Mayor's Office of Film and TV Production" signs what they were filming, so I basically forgot about it.
This morning, I was reminded when I ventured out to the park with the dogs, but I still couldn't figure out what was going to be filmed, and the production assistants were all running around, wearing headsets, and looking very busy with VERY important stuff like plugging in big cables and unloading equipment, so I didn't ask them. It's a good thing I didn't, because they turned out to be assholes.
Tonight, I arrived home to see lots of activity around the trailers, and one PA was eyeing me beadily as I approached. She looked as though she were ready to tackle me if I made so much as a step toward the trailer directly in front of my building's door. I must have looked sketchy, on account of having a horrible headache. I spent the afternoon doing organic chemistry (which I suck at; in college I got a C in it, and the only thing I was ever good at was distilling alcohol...go figure), and even worse, I was using ether. I don't know why Hunter S. Thompson was into huffing that shit, because the only thing it did for me was provide me with a splitting headache. Then again, I did have it in the fume hood, so maybe I didn't experience the full effects, but have a general policy of not getting high off organic solvents, especially those that are notorious for volatility and explosions. Anyway, I must have looked angry or sketchy or stalkerish, so she eyed me warily until I was safely inside my building. I figured there must be some big celebrity in that trailer to warrant such a vigilant PA guarding it.
I came back out with the dogs five minutes later, only to see that the big Hollywood movie star had emerged and was standing in front of my building. It was not Brad Pitt, or Halle Berry, or Jack Nicholson, or even Justin Timberlake. At first I thought the star, surrounded by an entourage, was James Gandolfini wearing a curly wig, based on his hulking girth and man-boobs (visible even beneath a black shirt AND jacket), but as he turned to face the camera, I realized that it was a much, much fatter version of this guy:
Yes! Tom Berenger, the actor who immortalized Cleveland Indians catcher Jake Taylor in one of the greatest movies ever made, Major League. In case you haven't seen this film, it's a silly but sublime movie with an awesomely 80s cast (also including Charlie Sheen as volatile ex-con pitcher Rick "Wild Thing" Vaughn, Corbin Bernsen--who thanks to "L.A. Law" was unbelievably a stud of the era--as wealthy, womanizing shortstop Roger Dorn, Wesley Snipes as wisecracking, base-stealing outfielder Willie Mays Hayes, Bob Uecker as the drunken commentator, and Rene Russo as Jake Taylor's librarian ex-girlfriend.) There's also a cast of awesome supporting characters, including the super cunty team owner's trophy widow, the curmudgeonly old coach, an aging born-again pitcher (who sucks), the Tribe's dedicated fans in all their Indian gear, and the Dominican-Haitian-Mexican designated hitter Pedro Cerrano, who speaks Spanish, practices voodoo, and at one point tells the born-again "chingate, cabron." (Obviously the writers suffered from the surprisingly common confusion that drives J-Sexy crazy, that all the nations of the Caribbean are on one big island and share one big blurred culture.) Major League was a favorite in the Razzy household growing up, so I recognized Jake Taylor's ass IMMEDIATELY, in spite of the fact that he's blown up like Lil' Kim.
His entourage started hurrying him across the street to the Harlem School for the Arts, where they were shooting the movie Order of Redemption, in which Tom Berenger plays a former stud of a criminal defense attorney who becomes a hard-core drug addict. Busta Rhymes is also in this, but I didn't see him. He's probably hanging out with a real-life criminal defense attorney since the people of the City of New York are taking his non-snitching ass to trial on assault charges in May. Caesar wasn't paying attention to any of this. He was more interested in pissing on his usual fire hydrant.
The beady-eyed PA guarding the trailer hurried over and gave me a very admonishing look. "Excuse me," she said. "He needs to do that somewhere else." I looked at her incredulously. Apart from providing water for firefighters and acting as impromptu sprinklers for kids on particularly sweltering summer days, the one other thing fire hydrants are famous for is DOGS PISSING ON THEM. Furthermore, who does this bitch think she is that she can issue such imperative commands to me in front of my own fucking apartment building? At least say "please" and phrase that request in the form of a question, you self-important slut!
"He's a dog. It's a fire hydrant," I said coldly to her. "And it's a public street." She gave me a very offended look. Apparently Tom Berenger is such a big fucking star that he warrants peons stationed outside to prevent dogs from pissing in his trailer's vicinity. I was irritated. As far as I could tell, Mayor Bloomberg gave them the right to park their giant trucks and trailers on the street, not dictate where my dog can or can't urinate, and I resented this dumb snatch telling me otherwise. I thought the best solution was to rattle her by showing how very little I cared for her mandate to fetch coffee and shoo dogs away from Tom Berenger's trailer by addressing the celebrity directly.
"Hey Jake! Where's Willie Mays Hayes?!" I shouted. I know exactly where Willie Mays Hayes is (in federal court answering to charges of tax evasion to the tune of $12 million dollars and probably gearing up to star in Blade 4), but it was the only pithy thing I could think to shout to a man who once called his shot like the Babe and then shocked the (evil) Yankees by bunting, thus securing a pennant for the Tribe.
If Tom Berenger heard me, he didn't respond. He probably didn't, because he was fully across St. Nicholas Ave. at that point, and it was clogged with traffic. In any event, he didn't respond, but the look of horror on the PA's face was priceless. She failed at preventing the local riff-raff from bugging the big MOVIE STAR, and was probably worried about her bullshit job. I felt totally vindicated. Welcome to Sugar Hill, bitch.
On a separate but related topic, if you look up Major League on IMDB.com, the listed plot keywords "include "Voodoo", "Wife's Sexual Pretence", "Vulgarity", "Rum", "Bad Haircut", "Mullet Haircut", "Obscene Finger Gesture", "Sombrero", "Watermelon", and "Urination Scene." What, no "Joe Boo" or "Corbin Bernsen taking one in the nuts?" I wouldn't have noticed this, but you have no idea how difficult it is to find pictures of Tom Berenger on the internets in anything except Platoon. I've literally spent two hours RESEARCHING this blog entry and snagging Major League screen captures off YouTube. Uff da.
This morning, I was reminded when I ventured out to the park with the dogs, but I still couldn't figure out what was going to be filmed, and the production assistants were all running around, wearing headsets, and looking very busy with VERY important stuff like plugging in big cables and unloading equipment, so I didn't ask them. It's a good thing I didn't, because they turned out to be assholes.
Tonight, I arrived home to see lots of activity around the trailers, and one PA was eyeing me beadily as I approached. She looked as though she were ready to tackle me if I made so much as a step toward the trailer directly in front of my building's door. I must have looked sketchy, on account of having a horrible headache. I spent the afternoon doing organic chemistry (which I suck at; in college I got a C in it, and the only thing I was ever good at was distilling alcohol...go figure), and even worse, I was using ether. I don't know why Hunter S. Thompson was into huffing that shit, because the only thing it did for me was provide me with a splitting headache. Then again, I did have it in the fume hood, so maybe I didn't experience the full effects, but have a general policy of not getting high off organic solvents, especially those that are notorious for volatility and explosions. Anyway, I must have looked angry or sketchy or stalkerish, so she eyed me warily until I was safely inside my building. I figured there must be some big celebrity in that trailer to warrant such a vigilant PA guarding it.
I came back out with the dogs five minutes later, only to see that the big Hollywood movie star had emerged and was standing in front of my building. It was not Brad Pitt, or Halle Berry, or Jack Nicholson, or even Justin Timberlake. At first I thought the star, surrounded by an entourage, was James Gandolfini wearing a curly wig, based on his hulking girth and man-boobs (visible even beneath a black shirt AND jacket), but as he turned to face the camera, I realized that it was a much, much fatter version of this guy:
His entourage started hurrying him across the street to the Harlem School for the Arts, where they were shooting the movie Order of Redemption, in which Tom Berenger plays a former stud of a criminal defense attorney who becomes a hard-core drug addict. Busta Rhymes is also in this, but I didn't see him. He's probably hanging out with a real-life criminal defense attorney since the people of the City of New York are taking his non-snitching ass to trial on assault charges in May. Caesar wasn't paying attention to any of this. He was more interested in pissing on his usual fire hydrant.
The beady-eyed PA guarding the trailer hurried over and gave me a very admonishing look. "Excuse me," she said. "He needs to do that somewhere else." I looked at her incredulously. Apart from providing water for firefighters and acting as impromptu sprinklers for kids on particularly sweltering summer days, the one other thing fire hydrants are famous for is DOGS PISSING ON THEM. Furthermore, who does this bitch think she is that she can issue such imperative commands to me in front of my own fucking apartment building? At least say "please" and phrase that request in the form of a question, you self-important slut!
"He's a dog. It's a fire hydrant," I said coldly to her. "And it's a public street." She gave me a very offended look. Apparently Tom Berenger is such a big fucking star that he warrants peons stationed outside to prevent dogs from pissing in his trailer's vicinity. I was irritated. As far as I could tell, Mayor Bloomberg gave them the right to park their giant trucks and trailers on the street, not dictate where my dog can or can't urinate, and I resented this dumb snatch telling me otherwise. I thought the best solution was to rattle her by showing how very little I cared for her mandate to fetch coffee and shoo dogs away from Tom Berenger's trailer by addressing the celebrity directly.
"Hey Jake! Where's Willie Mays Hayes?!" I shouted. I know exactly where Willie Mays Hayes is (in federal court answering to charges of tax evasion to the tune of $12 million dollars and probably gearing up to star in Blade 4), but it was the only pithy thing I could think to shout to a man who once called his shot like the Babe and then shocked the (evil) Yankees by bunting, thus securing a pennant for the Tribe.
If Tom Berenger heard me, he didn't respond. He probably didn't, because he was fully across St. Nicholas Ave. at that point, and it was clogged with traffic. In any event, he didn't respond, but the look of horror on the PA's face was priceless. She failed at preventing the local riff-raff from bugging the big MOVIE STAR, and was probably worried about her bullshit job. I felt totally vindicated. Welcome to Sugar Hill, bitch.
On a separate but related topic, if you look up Major League on IMDB.com, the listed plot keywords "include "Voodoo", "Wife's Sexual Pretence", "Vulgarity", "Rum", "Bad Haircut", "Mullet Haircut", "Obscene Finger Gesture", "Sombrero", "Watermelon", and "Urination Scene." What, no "Joe Boo" or "Corbin Bernsen taking one in the nuts?" I wouldn't have noticed this, but you have no idea how difficult it is to find pictures of Tom Berenger on the internets in anything except Platoon. I've literally spent two hours RESEARCHING this blog entry and snagging Major League screen captures off YouTube. Uff da.
Labels: assholes, Caese Doggy Dogg, celebrities, doggity style, fat fucks, Harlem world, intentional buffoonery, movies, NYC, scathing indictments, vengeance is sweet
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Razzy, Bob Uecker, not Bob Eubanks was the drunken sportscaster in Major League. Um...who the hell is Bob Eubanks?! Benzo.
# posted by 
: 3/28/2007 7:50 AM
: 3/28/2007 7:50 AM
Oops. I had a blonde moment. Bob Eubanks was the host of the now-cancelled "Newlywed Game" and is currently making a living as a motivational speaker. How anyone can be motivated by an unemployed game show host most notable for referring to sex as "whoopie" is beyond me.
I am a stickler for accuracy, so I have fixed it. I guess I just got confused due to the phonetic similarity between "Eubanks" and "Uecker"...but you know who I meant. The dad from "Mr. Belvedere"!
Thanks for the fact-checking, Benzo. Did Tom Berenger go into Tao for dinner after he finished skulking around my hood???
I am a stickler for accuracy, so I have fixed it. I guess I just got confused due to the phonetic similarity between "Eubanks" and "Uecker"...but you know who I meant. The dad from "Mr. Belvedere"!
Thanks for the fact-checking, Benzo. Did Tom Berenger go into Tao for dinner after he finished skulking around my hood???
No Tom Berenger sightings...but both Robin Leach and Macy Gray had dinner ( at different tables) on Monday. So...will it be third or fourth place for the Mariners this year? Benzo
# posted by : 3/28/2007 11:09 AM
: 3/28/2007 11:09 AM
Our closer's name is Putz.
I think that says it all.
You Red Sox fans are bad losers, but you're even WORSE winners!
I think that says it all.
You Red Sox fans are bad losers, but you're even WORSE winners!
I actually kind of feel bad for the Mariners. They had an amazing team for a number of years. Lou Pinella managed, Randy Johnson pitched, and Griffey Jr. and ARod in his pre-douchebag day crushed the ball. For reasons we will ever undersatnd they felt the need to aquire a chronically underachieving relief pitcher named Arthur Rhodes. When Rhodes met up with Yankee history, the Mariners were history. Of course that was one of the last good post-season moments in recent years for the yanks. The other involves Aaron Boone, but since I still have never actually watched that happen I have no comment on it.Benzo
# posted by : 3/28/2007 11:35 AM
: 3/28/2007 11:35 AM
Speak not the accursed name of Arthur Rhodes. There's only two things he's ever done that I approved of:
1. Blinded former Mariner and perpetual asshole Omar Vizquel with his iced-out earrings
2. Took out a Yankees pitcher permanently: Talked shit about Cory Lidle for being a scab. Then Cory Lidle died. Coincidence? I think not.
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1. Blinded former Mariner and perpetual asshole Omar Vizquel with his iced-out earrings
2. Took out a Yankees pitcher permanently: Talked shit about Cory Lidle for being a scab. Then Cory Lidle died. Coincidence? I think not.
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