"Jersey Shore" jumps the shark...

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And the Heisman Trophy goes to...

...not this motherfucker.

Reggie Bush has managed to do something O.J. Simpson didn't accomplish, his efforts not withstanding. A great football player, an asshole deluxe, an unrepentant lover of white women, a murderer who got off on a technicality that still boggles the mind to this very day, arrested for stealing cable TV service in Florida and then finally sentenced to prison for pulling a heist in a hotel room of his own memorabilia, that is what I call a solid body of work. Yet not enough to get him stripped of his Heisman Trophy.

That honor goes to Reggie Bush of the New Orleans Saints. Getting paid in college is nothing new. Eric Dickerson received $10,000 in cash as a signing bonus to go attend SMU and held the keys to a new Pontiac Trans-Am during his senior year. That's peanuts in comparison to what Reggie and his family made off with. There is a difference here, maybe one of semantics but a difference nonetheless. Anyone who knows anything about Texas football knows it is high stakes and big business from Pop Warner all the way up to college. Dickerson was paid by boosters to keep him happy while attending school. Bush was paid by some cats who wanted to represent him when he turned pro.


The payoffs were indeed lavish. Reggie made sure his family were in on it as they benefited from the largess of sports agent Lloyd Lake, who sued the Bush family for $290,000 dollars, money he said he paid out to these assholes in exchange for future representation at the pro level. Bush decided to say "Fuck You" to the men who paid him and made sure his family was living fat while he broke records on the gridiron for the rogue USC program. So my man Lake decided to say "Fuck You" right the fuck back. He cooperated with the NCAA and the infractions handed down cost Bush and the USC football program dearly.


The parents of Reggie Bush lived in a small apartment in San Diego. After their son went to USC, they moved on up in the best Jeffersonian manner-and by that I mean GEORGE Jefferson. The house has been valued at over $700,000 dollars and it was owned by one of the guys giving Reggie Bush the cash money he needed to live fat on the USC campus. With that type of spending money, I wonder how then-coach Pete Carroll missed those shopping sprees to Beverley Hills. Who exactly did he think was sponsoring this band of mopes?

First to fall was Athletic Director and colossally arrogant prick Mike Garrett. Coach Pete Carroll hightailed it outta there and went to the pros. The Trojans were stripped of their 2005 season and their appearance in the Orange Bowl, which they ironically lost to Texas and Heisman runner-up Vince Young, who even more ironically gave the crowd a Heisman pose while holding the National Championship trophy aloft.

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Focus on the Coen Brothers...

The Coen brothers, Joel and Ethan, have been making movies for over 25 years. They have a knack for writing great, quirky scripts that surprise, shock and make us laugh all at the same time. Their films cover themes of chance, free-will, predestination and nihilism in such a way that seriously gives people the creeps. Why? Who knew that such ordinary characters, the types that we run into every day, can be so twisted and fucked up inside?

I will go through three of my favorite Coen Brothers films, films that I highly recommend for the discerning movie fan.

1) Blood Simple
Release date: January 18, 1985
Running time: 1 hour 36 minutes (Director's Cut)


The film's title derives from the Dashiell Hammett novel Red Harvest, in which "Blood Simple" is a term used to describe the addled, fearful mindset people are in after a prolonged immersion in violent situations.

A sleazy bar owner in a small Texas town hires a private detective to murder his wife and her lover, who works as the manager of his establishment. But of course things don't go as planned. If they did there would be no use for a movie. The guy hired by the owner is down with the classic double-cross. He collects the fee for the hits without performing said services, kills the bar owner and then plants evidence to try to frame the man he was supposed to kill.

But of course he fucks that up big-time, and the film goes into detail on the various twists and turns that are inevitable in such a cluster-fuck of circumstances.




2) Miller's Crossing
Release date: September 21, 1990
Running time: 1 hour 55 minutes


One of the most underrated gangster flicks of all time. Set in an unknown city in Depression-era America, the Coen Brothers weave a tale of love, betrayal, retribution, vicious gangsterism and the very little that is left of the various characters' old lives after the smoke clears.

The best part about the film is the acting. Very rarely do you get a crew that simultaneously acted the hell out of their respected parts the way these cats did. Typical for a Coen Brothers film in that there are many plot twists that one has to pay close attention to-it took me a couple of viewings just to figure out what "The Dane" was up to, and if you don't pay attention you'll miss it. After watching this film you too will want to run out and give someone you don't like the "High Hat".




3) No Country for Old Men
Release date: November 9, 2007
Running time: 2 hours 2 minutes


And to think I thought this film was garbage the first time I saw it. What the fuck was I thinking...This film has a character in it, played by the brilliant Spanish actor Javier Bardem, who over the course of the story develops into one of the most compelling on-screen villains in the history of cinema. It blows away the overplayed and bombastic Hannibal Lecter by a country mile. How good was his performance? Bardem won the Academy Award for "Best Supporting Actor" for his role.


A guy out in West Texas stumbles upon a satchel of cash at a scene where apparently a drug deal had gone badly, leaving dead bodies splattered all over the place. He could have been home free except for the idiotic decision to go back later that evening to re-visit the scene of the crime, due to the fact that he had found one survivor who was bleeding to death in a pickup truck and begged him for water. He goes back out there with a jug of water and is tailed and attacked by whomever was looking to recover the stash of drugs and money.

Bardem plays Anton Chigurh, the hitman hired to get back the stolen money. Tommy Lee Jones plays the sheriff in whose jurisdiction the crime is committed. As more people begin to follow the guy's trail, we get to see plenty of scenes of sheer lunacy masquerading as typical West Texas life. This is what makes the film so creepy. They cats who are supposed to play the heroes are anything but, and the bad guys are badder than you would ever want to encounter in real life. This, my friends, is one hell of a film.

Checking out all three on a rainy Sunday afternoon. I could think of worse ways to spend time indoors. Just remember to put the DVD player on pause when the Chinese food delivery guy rings your bell-you don't want to miss one second of these great films.

Asshole of the Year 2010...

Yes, I know it's only September 3rd, but unless another athlete pops out with some type of John Wayne Gacy shit, this cocksucker takes the prize RIGHT NOW.

Floyd Mayweather Jr. released a racist, profanity-laced tirade against Manny Pacquiao so outrageous that when the Grand Master of the Ku Klux Klan was shown the video he immediately sent Mayweather an application stamped "processing fees waived".


I must rant on this one. Racism is one of the most polarizing subjects in American discourse. It is such a hot potato that I have yet to hear an intelligent discussion where all parties have sat down and had a civil discussion on the subject .

Don't expect one to be forthcoming in the near future, either. Mayweather Jr. singlehandedly just set the timetable for any potential round table discussions on racism back about fifteen hundred years. If Jim Crow himself had listened to this bullshit, he would have had a fucking stroke. This is not what Dr. King envisioned when he made his famous "I Have a Dream" speech. The speech, and the sacrifices made by the black community and those who aided them, were not interested in pursuing the freedom to be an absolute and total racist asshole for their people, but that is what this assclown and those of his ilk have taken it.

Floyd Mayweather Jr.s' attitude is the result of having the thug element in the black community hijack their culture. Misogyny, violence against women, "blinging", boasting, murder and drug dealing-pretty much every negative, detrimental stereotype that exists is held up as heroic pursuits.

Anything remotely resembling education, decency and strong family values is ridiculed and marginalized out of existence. This is the world Floyd lives in, the world that he comes from and hopefully the one that winds up devouring him once his career is over.

One of his publicists said yesterday that Mayweather wasn't a racist. Really? How do you explain this little gem of a quote?

"I'm on vacation for about a year, about a year. As soon as we come off vacation, we're going to cook that little yellow chump. So they ain't gotta worry about me fighting the midget. Once I stomp the midget, I'll make that NIGGA make me a sushi roll and cook me some rice."

I highlighted the word in question just to show you that when a black person uses it, it is not meant as a term of endearment like the racial apologists love saying. It is the same denigrating insult it is when a when a white person says it, or anyone else for that matter. But apparently Mayweather Jr. can say it to whomever he wants, even a fighter as dignified as Manny Pacquiao.

I got to digging around and found this funny little situation. The guy who walks around with massive amounts of cash, showering the unwashed masses that grovel at his greatness with $100 dollar bills had a bit of a situation with "The Man" a few years ago. Check it out-

"The IRS filed a $6,165,735 lien against Mayweather for unpaid incomes taxes on Oct. 9 in Clark County, Nev. He owes the money from 2007, according to the Clark County Recorder’s office."


That's strange-I never heard of a monumentally conceited, loudmouth black athlete with delusions of grandeur having money problems and owing millions in unpaid taxes. That certainly is a new one (insert sarcastic smirk HERE). Rumor has it that he spends money like he will never run out of it. For a second I thought he had Antoine Walker as an accountant, but no-just an army of "YES" men who never tell him "NO".

Mayweather belongs to the obnoxious, morally vacant generation of black athletes who, unlike Muhammad Ali, do not have the physical charisma, intelligence or grace to pull off an arrogant, self-promoting yet playful and funny public persona. They just come across as vile creeps, the type of ghetto cretins that one sees in grainy security tapes beating up old-age pensioners in the lobbies of public housing tenements.


This tirade of Mayweathers' is besides the fact that he is the one who has been dodging Pacquiao for over a year now. He has accused Manny of taking steroids and of not wanting to submit to Olympics-style drug testing. This is his bone of contention. The fact is that on a good night Pacquiao would kick Mayweathers' ass. The video is now just added motivation.

Let's go over the list-Floyd calls Manny a faggot, accuses him of taking steroids, insults his business acumen, and the rest are just a bunch of semi-literate racist taunts. As a wanna-be comedian, he has broken the cardinal sin-not of being racist, but of not being funny. I hope Pacquiao IS on steroids. And I hope he walks into the ring with altered gloves-minimal padding and plaster casts on his fists. Not that Pacqiao needs to cheat, but I just want Mayweather to get flung out of the ring headfirst like the bitch-ass trick he is. A fighter who has made his money fighting one of the weakest career opponent lists I've ever seen shouldn't be talking about the fighter everyone knows is better than he is.


Only an asshole like Mayweather could have the nerve to make a video insulting, taunting and ridiculing the man he has done everything in his power to avoid fighting. Hey Floyd-get in the ring, you fucker and get the ass-kicking you so richly deserve. And I hope after the fight is over, once you get out of intensive care from the beating Pacquiao will lay on you (that's if you actually have the balls to go toe-to-toe, instead of spending the night dancing around the ring like a twat) you retire once and for all. Good riddance to an asshole of Herculean proportions.

Fity and Floyd-Setting back race relations one jive-ass turkey at a time.

Film recommendation of the week...

The Expendables
Release date: August 13, 2010
Running time: 1 hour 38 minutes

Stallone Kicks ASS!!!!!


Here is the cast for one of the most balls-out, rock 'em sock 'em movies of the year-

* Sylvester Stallone
* Jason Statham
* Jet Li
* Dolph Lundgren
* Randy Couture
* Steve Austin
* Terry Crews
* Mickey Rourke
* Bruce Willis
*Eric Roberts
*With guest appearance by Arnold Schwarzenegger.

The plot-who cares? But I'll tell you anyway. I'm not ruining it for anyone who hasn't seen the film because the main storyline takes a back seat to the action. An ex-CIA operative has gone rogue and is aiding and abetting a stereotypically arrogant, power-mad Latino military dictator for the opportunity to share the spoils of the cocaine trade emanating from his fictional island.

Stallone and his mercenary friends accept the $5 million dollar job to take both guys out, with a twist-he falls in love with the dictator's young and beautiful daughter, who initially acts as Stallone's contact during his first foray to the island alongside Jason Statham. Stallone decides to go back after getting ratted out by a fellow mercenary whom he had a falling out with. Long story short, Stallone goes back with the whole crew intact and they proceed to kick more ass than a wild donkey at a Republican Teabagger Rally.


Ass was kicked in epic proportions, and everyone gets in on it. This is what an action movie should be. And funny enough, the plot ain't half bad. The señorita in question who becomes Stallone's love interest is played by Giselle Itié (born in Mexico of Brazilian descent-there is not hotter mixture on the planet) and boy does she loook mahvelous, dahling-absolutely mahvelous!!! I definitely would have gone back for her, and the tumultuous fighting would have just been an added bonus.


How's this for hilarious? Stallone offered Jean Claude Van Damme a role in the film, but he turned it down because...let me stop laughing for a second...HAHAHA!!!!...he felt there was no "substance" to his character!!! AHAHAHAHA!!! The nerve of the guy!!! What a fucking dick!!! OK, Jean Claude-anything you say. I guess with the extra spare time you can go back to the Shakespearean roles that made you a household name, you fucking pretentious prick.

Anyway, he wasn't missed. Everyone was good in this film, and an extra round of applause must go out to Stallone's sidekick in the film and current action star Jason Statham. He made the movie what it was, and this is not to discount the contributions of all the others cats, who were all bad-ass in their respective roles.


Despite the fact that some of the one-liners were corny as hell, the bits of occasional comedy did improve as the movie went on. If you've been disappointed with the absolute rubbish that's been coming out lately and want to go to the movies to have some great fun, let me tell you-skip "Takers" and go see this. "Takers" was the worst piece of crap I've seen in a long time, and you will thank me for telling you to stay clear of it. Don't get taken by the fact that it has done well at the box office-"Takers" is the worst heist film ever made. Go see "The Expendables" instead. You will thank me later.

"The Expendables"-They kick ass...so you don't have to.

R.I.P. Laurent Fignon...

Laurent Fignon died earlier today of complications from pancreatic cancer at the age of 50. If you're not a cycling fan you wouldn't know who he is, and the name would probably ring hollow in your household. Well, there is a reason why anyone who is a fan of sport should know who he is. He was one of the main protagonists of the most intense back-and-forth battle ever to be waged at the Tour de France. The overall performance by the men who fought each other for those three wonderful weeks in July transcends cycling. It is a monument to what true sport hopes to be but rarely achieves-a clash of titans-three men (France's Fignon, Spain's Pedro Delgado and Greg Lemond of the United States) at their physical peak going at each other like very few times in the recorded history of sport. We remember those rare times because they are so fleeting, which is why this man will forever live in cycling history-and deservedly so.


It is inevitable that his name will forever be linked with that of Greg Lemond, and for good reason. Lemond was the one who took that Tour win in 1989 after a nail biting finish into Paris which he won overall by the slimmest margin on record-8 seconds. But it was everything that lead up to that last stage, with Lemond chugging down the Champs-Élysées like a runaway train that made this Tour the most dramatic in modern-day history. But it wouldn't have been as memorable had it not been for the dogged determination of one Laurent Fignon.


Take a good look at modern-day sports. Where are the rivalries? Where's the drama? Where's the passion? We have college football, micromanaged by a bunch of tight-assed Stalin protegés who recruit talent-heavy classes and then get awarded bogus championships while beating opponents not worthy of their talents.

College basketball is a mess due to the dilution of talent, a ridiculous AAU summer league system that produces great athletes who lack the basic fundamentals and parody that exists in a game where the brightest stars have absolutely no interest in playing more than one year and then go pro.

Pro football-the majority of the Superbowls are overhyped pieces of garbage with the terrible half-time shows. When people watch the Superbowl for the commercials, you know what you're in for more often than not.

Baseball-you have the Yankees purchasing the best free agents in the game and everyone else trying to win with anonymous pieces that manage to put together one great run and then it's over for them.


The biggest story at this years' Tour ended with a resounding thud very early on as Lance Armstrong, fumbling and bumbling his way around France like a punch-drunk prizefighter way past his prime, was exposed as the pack jelly he truly is, an anonymous rider who failed to capture even one single stage win. He mumbled and stumbled his way to a very pedestrian 29th place without making so much as a ripple. Andy Schleck failed again to exhibit the type of firepower in the mountains he needed to display to dislodge Albert Contador, whose biggest move came during a controversial mechanical problem experienced by Schleck. The time Contador gained on Schleck that day came to be the overall margin of victory, 39 seconds.

Which leads us back to the drama that unfolded in July of 1989. You had Greg Lemond, the victor of the Tour in 1986 who was felled by a hunting accident and lost the two previous years to illness, injury and bad form. You had Pedro Delgado, who had won the previous Tour in 1988 under a cloud of suspicion due to a positive dope test which was overruled on a technicality. And then there was Fignon, who barnstormed his way through his first three years as a professional, winning the Tour in '83 and '84 but was hamstrung for years due to knee and Achilles tendon problems.

He was on demonstrative form in '89, beginning the year with a win in Milan-San Remo, taking the Giro D'Italia and usurping Sean Kelly as cycling's No. 1 rider. While Lemond, riding for a small Belgian team whom no one expected much from, struggled mightily in the Italian race but did manage a win in the final time trial. A harbinger of things to come, an unexpected return to form or the fact that Fignon didn't race all-out because by that point he already had the race in the bag? The stage was set for these three to duke it out in France...

The drama started from the opening bell. Pedro Delgado, riding the opening prologue in the leader's yellow jersey as the previous year's winner, showed up at the starting line 2 minutes and 40 seconds late. How or why is a mystery. Whatever the reasons, this was inexcusable given what was at stake.

Fignon, riding with a much stronger team (Systeme U-Gitane) than Lemond, wasn't too concerned. He and his team were going along nicely, winning the team time-trial during stage three after one of their lesser-known riders, Acacio da Silva, won the yellow jersey on stage one. He held the race lead for three days.

Lemond, aside form the low expectations and having to withstand a whirlwind of unfair criticism from the staid European cycling establishment for not being dedicated enough to the sport and for having a typical "American" attitude towards training and dieting, surprisingly won the leader's jersey after stage 5. He stated he just wanted to do well in the race and did not consider himself a serious contender for the overall title. But the mountains loomed, with the strongest riders having yet to show their cards or throw down the gauntlet. It was now the time.

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The Girlfriend Experience...

Steven Soderbergh is at the enviable point in his career where he can afford to make a bad movie and move on to the next project as if nothing happened. This is rarefied air for Hollywood directors and many, even the good ones, don't have that luxury. But I'm wondering what the endgame is here, because his latest efforts have been ghastly. I'm not talking about your run-of-the-mill bad storyline, unfortunate choice of actors or anything like that. He has taken some very provocative subjects and has rendered them monumentally, unforgivably bad and singularly unwatchable.

How he was able to take an actor with the charisma and talent of Benicio Del Toro, put him in the shoes of one of the most compelling figures of the 20th Century (Argentine guerrilla Ernesto "Che" Guevara) and turn it into a 2-film, 4-plus hour magnum opus of sheer drudgery. Just trying to sit through these films made me feel as if I were sweating it out in some jungle trying not to go insane from the humidity, the incessant marching over mountainous regions and lack of amenities. A crashing bore form beginning to end.

And now we have the latest effort at existential navel-gazing from Soderbergh-"The Girlfriend Experience". The most provocative aspect of this film is the chance he took in hiring porn star Sasha Grey for the lead role, a role she plays to the hilt as one would expect from a vacuous porn star just in it for the easy money and exposure. Her performance is as flat as the pulse of a rotting corpse and stinks up the room with the same aroma.

We have her idiotic boyfriend, played by an equally terrible Al Santos, a personal trainer who spends his time trying to get his clients at an upscale gym to purchase training packages they clearly aren't interested in. His one big moment in the film is a showdown with his boss. He confronts his manager with an ultimatum-give in to his demands for a management level position or he's gone. But his manager, unimpressed, throws in the fact that homeboy is not a team player because he refuses to wear the gym t-shirt while working with the gyms' clients. Absolutely riveting stuff. How these two moron ever got together is one question-why they stay together is another that is never even touched upon throughout the whole film.

We then are subjected to an equally pathetic and annoying array of lonely, jag-off yuppies complaining about the state of the economy and the upcoming Presidential elections. One of the most cringe-worthy episodes involves a Hasidic Jew explaining to Sasha how she should vote for McCain because he's a friend of Israel, and the incessant advice over the course of the movie for her to invest in gold because in a tough economy it's a sure thing. Almost as sure as selling pussy to high-rolling biscuit heads.


The film is littered with drearily one-dimensional, washed-out characters who pathetically try to engage a whore in a deeper, more personal relationship to the point where you really start to feel that being a high-end call girl isn't what it's cracked up to be. Is the money really worth to have to spend time with these emotional cripples? For Sasha's character, it is a resounding YES only because she too is so utterly devoid of any human emotions that one wonders why her character is so fascinating to Sondbergh that he devotes a whole movie around the minutiae of her sordid and empty career.

Grey is actually not bad as Vincent Chases' girlfriend on the HBO series "Entourage", but that's because she's playing off other characters who can actually act. She is only asked to be herself, a porn star who demands to be taken seriously with legitimate roles in real movies while having her butt cheeks firmly entrenched in the line of work that made her famous.


Her 15 minutes will soon be up. Not because she's a terrible actress but because what makes her a porn star is what is holding her back. She oozes an icy emptiness of soul that will be a major impediment to any semblance of a legitimate acting career. It is too ingrained in her persona. Her face is blank and devoid of anything remotely resembling human feeling. She has had way too much cock in her face and up her ass. She has gulped too many gallons of semen for her to be anything but a circus oddity in mainstream films.

This film is a strikeout worthy of a Dave Kingman at-bat. Whatever you do, PLEASE don't waste your time watching it. It is a gigantically smarmy, self-impressed and horrifically boring piece of shit.