Yeah, ok, so shoot me. I'm a baaaaaddd baaaaaddd blogger. Time has been flyin' like the seat of my pants on fire through this life and finding the time to sit here with you and recount the days past has been harder then recounting past elections. What better time to address the masses again then today though, Tuesday, the day Her Cardinal Rat Fink (real name "J. Wellington Wimpy" Ratzinger) became Benedict Ahh-nold the somethingth, our new Pope. Hell, "I'd rather pay you Tuesday for a Hamburger today" anyway (???). Now, mind you, I have written some blog entries here and there since last we (or I) spoke, but they were mini-blogs over at my myspace page. Most of them have been about the downfall of the last incarnation of my band Rollo, and not about the downfall of civilization as we know it. This one today is only partly about that as well, and the in-coronation of our new Papal leader. I did post a lil' blurb (hardly a blog, a blurg even, and definitely not a blob) a couple weeks past about John Paul though (not of George and Ringo fame, but more famous perhaps). His death was surely bigger then Lennon's, and maybe even Lenin's, and though he never declared himself to be bigger then a Beatle, the pope and cirumstance that followed his passing has been like no other death in my lifetime. Lennon's was huge, and rightly so, as he was super-talented and taken in his prime. Lenin created a whole new political ideology, but the Pope... well, not sure what he did, but I'm sure he did more then the Fed Ex Pope on Conan. He made people feel better, plus, he once went dog sledding in Alaska, led by mutts "Satan" and "the Devil" (true story). His demise, however, ironically coincided with the death of Frank Perdue, the Chicken "Pope" if you will (or at least a king of advertising). Here's what I had to say a few weeks back on the subject:
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R.I.P. Pope John Paul ll & Frank Perdue... both dead @ 84
each rose to prominence as the public face of their respective "companies" some 20-30 odd years ago. The tender Pontiff, who (sign-of-the) crossed the road shortly after the poultry magnet did on Friday, will be missed far more than his famous feathered contemporary though. It is unknown, however, whether JP2 actually uttered the memorable nugget "the church is the best way to sell a superior chicken"; a universal truth that has long been attributed to him (joke). All kidding aside, I grew up with Frank Perdue adams appling his way into my living room through the cluck of the tv. Not being a religious buyer, I didn't have the same opportunity to feel like I knew JP2. He had a nice looking face, and became the veritable king of the popes as far as popes come, but I have to wonder, is/was it good that we've made the popemeister into some cult icon akin to a celeb ad man for his product (religion)? May they both rest in peace (no, I'm not gonna make another dumb pun here, as you can see it comin' I'm sure...drumsticks please)
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Ok, so the Pope is gone but he's not forgotten, this is the story of a Johnny... Rotten? Well... I dunno about that, I'm not religious (not true, Rock n' Roll is my religion... yeah, it is, ok? Dig? I'd like to see you say that with a straight face like I just did). It seems to at least be the story of a Rat(zinger). How about all the hooplah and brew-ha-ha and hooey that we've made of all this though, huh? What a sad comment on our times when the changing of the Pope is like the new OJ Trial (there's your Johnny Rotten, though Cochran left the building recently for good, before he'd ever get blamed for being his satanic majesty)... Here's this old white guy with a funny chapeau ruling the front pages of the tabloids the last few weeks like he's started religion or something. Jacko, Canseco and all the other whackos shovin' stuff into little boys bodies as well as their own must be pretty psyched to have seen the old guy go, for their news was obviously not fit to print in bold letters, no matter how dispicable their news was becoming. I mean, Jacko's going down, that's becoming plain as the lack of color on his face, as numerous people have come forward to recount how his nimble gloved fingers went a walking down the pants of many a pre-pube visitor to whitey's house, Never Say Never Land. The mighty Canseco, on the other hand, went to bat and actually gained points b/c Barry Big Head Bonds and Mark the Monster McGwire started looked ever and ever more like scamps and not Home Run champs. Where is the steroid scandal in the papers now though? Up in the black smoke that rose from the Pope castle perhaps, the other day when the wizards of Rome were deliberating over their cauldron. Just goes to show you that God is hot these days, so if you're planning on doing a new reality show, you better get out the Jesus freaks and Bible thumpers, b/c they are news my friends. Shal I say that old Tammy Fay may be the new Anna Nicole? I for one thought that that black smoke thing was weird. I mean what's up with them getting all medieval on our ass like that, huh? This is the 21st Century, send up fire works or a missle or something, not soot... Anyway, enough about the Pope. There'll be more to spout on the subject I can assure you (if I can get myself to write more often... btw, thanks to all of you who've continually checked in on "...Snot" daily. You've given this here pope (dope?) hope even though there's been only old news to peruse).
Yeah, ok, so I suppose I haven't written mainly b/c I've just been so Goddamn busy, buey runnin' around like one of Dead Frankie's chickens with my head cut off mostly, just tryin' to cluckin' make a buck. This past week saw me screw up twice though, leadin' me to believe I've gotta screw my head on straight again (if it ever was), and then with all the mention of blogs today (like the "We love Ratzinger" one or some shit-there are literally thousnads of them apparently) I just couldn't resist but to write more in the bad book here. Now when I say I screwed up, as I did before, I mean that I hurt myself. Last week I almost punctured my lung with a broken rib as I slipped foolin' around on a job, and this week I stupidly carved a chunk out of my hair just off my temple b/c I wasn't paying attention while doing my sideburn cutting ritual thing. Then I went and did it again a few minutes later! I look like a freakin' labotomy victim as I write this, and if I hadn't channeled my artistic prowess and applied some acrylic paint, glue, hairspray, magic marker and cut hair scraps, I wouldn't have been able to go out in public the last couple of days. I've had some decent auditions of late though, and can't not go to a call-back just because I look like frickin' Frankenstein Perdue...
Ok, as I can write for hours, or days, or months now b/c I've neglected to for so long, I'm gonna call it a night. I want to find out how Kidd n' Carter and the Nets played and if 'n they followed through on their ass-a-whumpin' of Washington (not the Nats, though how about them, huh?!) Wizzards (yeah, it always manages to somehow come full circle... or become full-blown), and also whether Randy got tagged for another tater by the D-Rays and if the Sox broke their tie with the B-Jays. I do have lots to talk about in some choice Liver Sports reports comin' up, and I also have to give you the lowdown on my band Rollo's recent breakup (I got rid of the trash if you will and am in the midst of forming a Rollo that transcends the junkyard wars while still managing to be that cool found sound object you'd hope to stumble upon while smoking a loose joint at the land fill). I'll also tell you about my own religious experience lately (I played a church-goin' God nut in a short recently-a guy who recited passages from the bible and then dons a ski mask and breaks into houses of non-believers, complete with the blood of a sacrificial lamb... fun).
I'll leave you now with a few new succinct celebrity reviews. Should I repeat any past ones, well... sorry, I got a labotomy, remember (or was it a migdelectomy)?
-RM
Lyndsay Lohan -that smoking room slut in Jr High we all wanted to bang like there was no tomorrow
Benicio Del Tauro -hit on me. His big grey mound of hair reminded me of my Grandmothers, though she didn't have a smile like Bob Mitchum
The lead Singer from the Goo-Goo Dolls -walked unnoticed along Times Sq., with a face that would make Kevin Bacon seem like an Ivory Girl
Kevin Bacon -rode his bike unnoticed down the Hudson River Promenade, foot loose and fancy free. His hair blowin' in the wind giving Benicio a run for his money
Willem Dafoe -nice, blocky guy with a face that would make the lead singer of the Goo Goo Dolls seem like an Ivory Girl
Katie Holmes -Yo Yo ma, can I have one of her for Christmas? Damn, she purty: slender, tender, def. not a lender
Sophie Dahl -trying to give katie a run for the money in matching white dresses, she looked like a ghostly lobster. I think she's older then she's letting on, still hot, but that might be b/c she was wearing a fur inside on a warm Spring day, and then there's all that blow she's so obviously doing. Rich dad, poor dad.
David Wells -heluva nice guy, and now that he's a rock'em Red Sockem' Ruthbot I don't have to feel bad for sayin' that.
Perry Ferrel -damn, he short (but stylin', man is he stylin'). I don't usually get impressed by celebs, but he rocks.
Jack Nicholson -what can I say. I was in awe. Jack's the man. Has this Leonid Breznev thing goin' but I'd take a bear hug from him.
Liev Schreiber -asshole (I probably already had this one, but you can never call him an asshole too many times, same with Ethan Hawk).
... there's more, but I have work to do.
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