Author: Jason Thompson (Page 64 of 67)

Boobs make for great cooking

Those bastards over at the Food Network have done it again. They got me to watch a cooking show that I otherwise wouldn’t have cared to see. The other day my wife was watching “Everyday Italian” with host Giada De Laurentiis (granddaughter of Dino De) and I became fixated. Soft focus Skinemax lighting, a low cut shirt, and breasts a-popping with plenty o’ nice cleavage. I sat there making lewd remarks every time she talked about spreading this or that and so forth. My wife sighed and did that laugh she does when she knows I’m a pathetic mess. I just said, “Who’s looking at the food?!” She of course said she had no interest in Giada’s boobs, which is understood.

However, it reminds me of when the Food network also ran that one show with chef Nigella Lawson, another buxom babe with a nice soft focus show and a cameraman who seemed hell bent on making sure you didn’t notice the food too much. I used to find myself being caught in the headlights (har har) of that one as well. So it’s my professional advice to you dudes out there who are looking for something titillating that isn’t the same old same old to check out some Giada or Nigella and get your freak on. Cooking complex shit for rich friends you will never have was never so good.

I need some exorcising myself

Yes, well, I got around to renting The Exorcism of Emily Rose from Netflix and watched it last night. What can I say? Not scary at all, but a decent amount of suspense, I suppose. It was certainly better than that horrid turd The Skeleton Key, which was neither scary nor suspenseful and yet another fine example of Kate Hudson wasting any remaining talent on pure crap.

Anyway, I noticed I had rented the “unrated” version of this flick and couldn’t figure out what the hell could have been in it that made it an unrated cut. It’s a pretty tame horror flick by any standards, and the special effects are pretty much all dished out in one minute of the movie. If you ever saw the trailer, you pretty much saw the “scary” parts and all their effects, in other words. My problem with the scares was that they relied too much on slamming doors and quick jump cuts to something loud that wasn’t scary. Cheap seat jumpers.

But the damn thing ran too long at 119 minutes, and being “based on” a true story, I could only feel that once again some serious shit used to go down in the ’70s (1976 was when the actual tale the film is based on took place). We need fresh exorcism stories, people. Fresh scares. Enough with mining old crap and rehashing even more of it into new remakes. The original Amityville Horror was lame enough. A new version wasn’t needed. I didn’t waste me time on that, thankfully.

I do think it would be good, however, if a really gory flick came out that wasn’t made by Rob Zombie that featured a soundtrack by Christopher Cross. Could you imagine how rockin’ that would be? Someone getting an axe to the chest and Cross bleating out a love song. Someone get the studios on the phone.

Baby wants a Tivo

My own lovely lady (once you listen to Rupert Holmes, you never go back) wants a Tivo for Xmas. Hey, what a great time to buy one, considering Target and Best Buy are selling them for an end price of 50 bucks (after a big-ass $150 rebate), with best Buy also throwing in a three-month subscription. I’m pondering it. And also pondering hooking it up so it records every instance of such holiday classics as It’s A Wonderful Life, A Christmas Story, and Saving Private Ryan. I figure with the way these movies are constantly re-run, I’ll have that Tivo loaded up in no time. Who could ever get sick of those three? Nothing quite says Christmas overkill like Messy Marvin, Donna Reed, and Tom Hanks. Ah, yes.

Where’s Mulder when ya need him?

Oh, those people at Let’s Roll 911 have so many X-files going on, it’s either reall scary or just plain sad. Seriously, this is the kind of crap that fuels freaks all over the media, from the backwoods goons on the old Art Bell radio show to the “reporters” on FOX News. These people are sworn to never forget 9/11! And dammit, they’ll make sure you don’t either with every loose screw and nut they can offer. If “The X-Files” was ever relaunched, Chris Carter would have a field day with his writers just based on this kind of wacky nutty goodness. My favorite line on the site is this one in regards to the hijacked plane that went down in Pennsylvania:

“IMPORTANT NOTE to the non-corrupted FBI and U.S. Law enforcement agents: If you take a close look at the individuals who own this property, where Flight 93 is alleged to have crashed, and interrogate them in Guantanamo for a few weeks, we will get to the bottom of who pulled off 9/11. We guarantee it.”

Oh, how they jumped the shark

I’m specifically talking about Steve Martin and Eddie Murphy here. Yesterday, I was watching some greatest SNL moments show on E! and watching the old clips of both of these guys reminded me of how absolutely funny they both were. Now, Martin I suppose you could give some leeway to since he always wanted to be an all-around actor, and used his stand up as a way to get into the biz. But I’ll be damned if I still wouldn’t rather listen to his “Let’s Get Small” album, or watch The Jerk again. I couldn’t even tell you the last movie the man was in that I was halfway interested in. He went from Wild and Crazy Steve to Smarmy Actor Steve, and it just ain’t funny no more.

Then there’s Murphy. What the hell? This guy should have his SAG card revoked. One of the funniest dudes of all time content to sit around and make the worst family fare that comes out any more. Shit, I’d rather watch some glop like Because of Winn-Dixie than sit through a new Eddie Murphy movie. The downhill slide started with The Nutty Professor (or perhaps Dr. Doolittle), and has continued ever since. The man has betrayed his talents all for the sake of…what, exactly? Richard Pryor made some god-awful goopy movies as well, but at his heart he was still always Richard Pryor. Murph, on the other hand, has seemed more than willing to sell out consistently. All that Shrek must have gone to his wallet.

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