Shut Up! We Were More Cool Then, Then You Are Now.

Frankie Goes To Hollywood Lyrics

Frankie Goes To Hollywood Music Video Codes

Music Video Codes by VideoCure.com

So, while bagging on Len I had a stream of consciousness that mentioned Frankie Goes To Hollywood. Following that, I got maudlin and sought out the video. As you can see -- I found one. This was the "live" version. Like with their songs, Frankie released different videos to support the same song. The best Relax video was directed by Brian De Palma. De Palma directed some great horror films in the late 70's and early 80's. In 1984, he directed Body Double starring Craig Wasson. May not seem like a big deal, but it also starred the relatively unknown wife of Don Johnson. Appearing as Holly Body, Melanie made a teenage male uncomfortable -- in a good way. Keeping in mind, this was not a great date movie unless you and your date had already "gone all the way". Otherwise, you were just watching an R-rated movie about the porn industry with a dedicated virgin. But hell, when it came out on video we'd sit around and watch it for hours while drinking Bartles & James Wine Coolers and pretending to be Siskel & Ebert. One of the great scenes was the filming of the "porno". If real porno's had a budget, actual talent, and were directed by De Palma, women would admit to watching porno's. But they're not. So, the music for the shot wasn't your typical porn groove, it was Relax. I don't know what the arrangement was, but De Palma then filmed (actual film, not video) a music video for Frankie Goes To Hollywood on the same set. It was very cool. But just a little too erotic for MTV, as they relegated it to late night. If you get the opportunity to see either the movie or the video, I highly recommend it.

Oh, and by the way, it seems Mr. De Palma is also responsible for the Springsteen video, Dancing In The Dark. So he must have chosen Courtney Cox to jump up on stage. Man, he must have recognized her talent from Misfits of Science.

It's Like Those Bugs Khan Put In Chekov's Ear . . .

Len Lyrics

Len Music Video Codes

Music Video Codes by VideoCure.com

So, someone was "borrowing" one of my "discs" and "invited" me to look through their collection. I came upon Don't Steal My Sunshine by Len. I didn't even know the name of the ahem, artiste, but I remember the damn song. This thocky percussion, incipid lyrics and shaky hand-held video. It sounds like 2nd-graders participating in the Intro to Music assembly (Okay, you pound on the cowbell [mmm, more cowbell]. You shake the tamborine. You, fatty, jump around like a monkey and hoot). So, I'm thinking, what is my "friend" doing with this crap in their collection. Along side Pink Floyd, Frankie Goes To Hollywood (shut up, posers, Frankie rules!) and Snoop Dogg, there's . . . Len.

Now Len graced our screens in 1999. I remember watching videos on The Box (pause, allow the "MTV sucks now" rant pass) and Len and his sister/cousin/baby mama start hooting in up in FLA having a good time. So the song gets wedged into your brain and the video is the opposite of soothing. Fast forward 8 years, and I end up finding this damn song in somebody's "library". So I've decided to share this mind-numbing treat with everyone.

No reason I should be the only person with an earworm.

As Smooth As 12-Year-Old Single Malt . . .

AFTERNOON DELIGHT (Will Ferrell)

Video Code provided by VideoCodeZone.Com

That damn Ron Burgundy gets me every time.

Why? Because I Like Friggin' Monkey's . . .

http://www.virob.com/virob/videos/532.html

Those Wacky Scots

As seen on WorldOfHumor.com

How Do I Know Ed's Gay?

He doesn't think this picture is hot.

That Sound? The Ice Splintering as Hell Freezes Over

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Director Wants Paris as Mother Teresa

"House of Wax" notwithstanding, "The Simple Life" star Paris Hilton has yet to make a major impression on the big screen. That may soon change.
Film director T. Rajeevnath, who is based in Thiruvananthapuram, India, wants Hilton to play Mother Teresa is a movie biography he is planning about the Nobel laureate who worked among Calcutta's poor with the Missionaries of Charity.

"Her features resemble Mother Teresa," Rajeevnath -- whose films include his native country's hits "Moksham," "Janani" and "Thannal" -- says of Hilton, according to the French Press Agency.

The filmmaker adds, "A meeting with Paris Hilton is scheduled for the end of April."

Rajeevnath says he stumbled upon this casting idea when he saw a computer-generated image showing what he considers a close facial resemblance between the 25-year-old hotel heiress and the Albanian-born nun, who died in 1997. Pope John Paul beatified Mother Teresa in 2003.

Indian press reports say shooting in West Bengal and several foreign countries is scheduled to begin in early 2007, and casting is expected to be rounded out by Kamal Haasan in the role of a priest and Mithun Chakraborty as Communist leader Jyoti Basu.

It Was A Prank-Free Weekend

It's not that I go out of my way to be cruel, but sometimes (ney, most of the time) I see the line and I don't just cross over it -- I maul it. I mean, jump up, fly backwards, double-handed middle fingers extended "fuck you" to the line. I've always been this way. "Look with your eyes, not with your hands", was the warning from my parents. All the while I'm disassembling an antique music box at my dad's bosses house. The beatings I endured just to find out why something went, "ping". But dammit, when I was finished I could tell you how it worked -- not that I could necessarily put it back together . . .

So it was April 1 on Saturday. In past years, I have been responsible for female co-workers leaving work early due to an unfortunate urination accident. Oh, the old reliable plastic-wrap-on-the-toilet trick. The secret is to be meticulous. I would firmly stretch the plastic to the bowl, then trim it so the seat completely covered the edge. The joy that came from a screetched, "WHAT THE FUCK!" I lived for those moments . . . Like when a roommate in Hawaii, Ken, received a tri-fold letter sealed with a heart sticker from a girl back home. Just a note: girls, these are NOT secure. Because while Ken was at work, I had already read the letter and was working on a response. Not from me, mind you, but from Ken. You see, Ken was an ornery little bastard who was in Hawaii by court-order due to a drug addiction. In addition to rehab, he had been ordered to explore the exciting world of extremely manual labor for Maui Land & Pineapple Co. This lovely daughter of Eve, we'll call her "Mabel", ran into Ken's mother at the market. God bless her, in between band practice and knitting leg-warmers for the residence of the local nursing home, she wanted to write to Ken to cheer him up. Ken's mother thought this would be a smashing idea and happily shared his address. Ken's mother made a serious mistake. As Ken may be a recovering vein-sticker, I was an unrepentant ass. Mabel chose to share with Ken a secret. She had been carrying a torch for Ken since 6th grade. Upon receipt of MY letter, she discovered that Ken thought this was "neat-o", and that he had been "pining" for her since the 5th grade. Ken believed that the middle two syllables of any word were pronounced "fuck-ing". So this was just a little out of character for our little Kenny, but he had to admit that, "he liked her [Mabel] more than he liked candy bars". And, "that upon his return to the Mainland, perhaps she would invite him over for Sunday dinner and that he could bring his photo album with all the new friends he made while away from her." In fact, Ken had made a very special friend. The rest of the guys might call him "Goob", Ken just calls him "friend".

By the time Ken had returned home from his labors, his letter (the one I ghost wrote) was on its way back to the lower-48. You would have thought Mabel would have recognized sarcasm . . .

So two weeks passed and it was mail call on a Saturday. As most of the room was quietly sharing stale cookies from home, the still was shattered by a "WHAT THE FUCK?!" I guess Ken had received Mabel's response. He had just found out he had a new girlfriend . . .

I used to feel bad about that story, but now, where's the Saran Wrap . . .