Five Things: 4/13/14-Spring Thaw Edition

Spring has sprung, so I guess I’m back. I’ve been writing nothing but news stories so writing fun stuff is strange to me right now. Oh but never fear: My wit will return.

What’s been going on? Much.

1) HAVE A PIECE  OF PHYSICAL THERAPY PIE. Physical therapy and more physical therapy. For those just tuning in, I’m getting intensive PT to help repair my shoulder after severely dislocating it back before the first Polar Vortex in January. I had to let it heal for a few months which meant no physical exercise at all. The one thing I learned through all of this is how much falling down the el station stairs, popping my shoulder out so far that it I could scratch my ankle without bending over,  AND spending six hours in a dank ER, is how much of a huge-as-fuck-hit my self-esteem took. Couple that with the bone-chilling, ass-crack cold we experienced, and you’re looking at 13-year old me. You know the type–teenage girl with serious braces, a tight, curly perm, GREEN EYE SHADOW, pervy-dude-attracting-boobs and the personality of well, grass.

Where was I going with this? I dunno, but I do know this: PT is brutal and I’m an old fart.

 

2) She’s BACK.

“Get the government out of my fuckin’ snatch.”

and…

 

3) Sometimes I think living in Colorado wouldn’t be so bad. Via UPI.

Pot vending machine to debut

I have a feeling that Colorado is gonna lose that “One of The Mostest Fittest States in the Union” moniker since munchies are such a huge part of partaking in doobage. Don’t believe me? Ok. Just watch.

 

4) Aaaaaaand then sometimes I think living in Colorado would suck. Lemme preface this by saying it’s the middle of April.

Spring storm shuts down stretches of I-70

 

5) Finally, I’m seriously considering doing this.

 

 

Five Things: 11/22/13

No preamble today, so let’s dive in.

1) I mean, really..why NOT make a 5 1/2 hour film about self-loathing and sexual addiction? Wait, it’s been cut down to 4 hours because it, um, isn’t quite marketable. Odd for a director to give up final cut of any film. Really. It is.

Now, I’m not a Von Trier fan at all, and yes, I’ve seen all of his films because for a while there, I was considering cutting off my lady bits with garden shears. I needed to watch a ‘how to’ vid.

What’s really special about this week is the trailer for “Nymphomanic” was released. And, well..just have a look-see.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Von Trier’s editor’s in rehab now.

2) So much for the days of yore when kids would play games like kick-the-can, freeze tag and if they had a pool, Marco Polo. It appears the game du jour is the ‘knockout’ game.

It’s pretty simple really. A kid, usually a teenage boy, runs up on some random stranger on the street and knocks ’em out cold with a punch to the head. That’s all. No robbery, no other type of assault–just a punch–and boom, the victim hits the ground with a thud.

Glad to see that society continues to slide down crap mountain.

3) I get it, you can’t afford to go skiing this year. Sorry about that. But, YOU can fool your friends into thinking you snow-plowed on the bunny hill by doing this….

(via the Daily Mail)

Are they taking the piste? Wearing goggles in tanning booth for ‘fake ski tan’ effect is bizarre new beauty trend

‘Tis true. We’re close to bottoming out as a society, folks. When someone is willing to be a melanoma poster child as an attempt to impress people who probably don’t give a shit about them, it’s time to re-evaluate your life. At this point, you’re just a shell of a person.

Kim Kardashian. Of course. (via the Daily Mail)

Kim Kardashian. Of course. (via the Daily Mail)

Exactly.

4) The people of Stonehenge. (via various)

Screen shot 2013-11-22 at 11.17.00 AM

Screen shot 2013-11-22 at 11.16.37 AM

Screen shot 2013-11-22 at 11.19.52 AMScreen shot 2013-11-22 at 11.19.33 AM

 

I no longer feel the need to bathe.

5) Finally, for those extreme Oprah fans, there’s this little gem.

An Oprah for all sizes! (via Awesomely Luvvie)

An Oprah for all sizes! (via Awesomely Luvvie)

FYI, I’d totally wear the Gene Simmons one though.

Read more about it here.

The Jiven’ Five: 10/9/13

Sorry I’ve been so quiet for the past week or so, but I’ve been busy…wait for it…WORKING. Yep, McCrabby managed to land herself a part-time–possibly temporary– gig. I can’t go into details just yet, BUT it does allow me share my gifts of writing, yapping and telling stories. Of course, the bottom could fall out and I’ll be back to keeping the couch down and yelling at kids to stay out of my liquor cabinet.

1) Ok, if I ever spied a man wearing such a tie, I’d have him arrested. This just screams douchebag.

A sampling courtesy of KickStarter.

A sampling courtesy of KickStarter.

Apparently, this new fangled neck wear is all the rage among …well… I don’t know who or what for that matter. Hmm..maybe I need another image. You know, one that shows the Shortti in action.

(courtesy KickStarter.com)

(courtesy KickStarter.com)

On second thought, I’m gonna have to slap on a big NO on this one.

Next!

2) Umm…..

(via Facebook/Business Insider)

(via Facebook/Business Insider)

I just got off the phone with my lawyer about going into the masturbation facility business. I’m gonna make a wad of cash building places where folks can quietly go blow their wads. And y’all thought I didn’t have any bidness sense. Haters.

Turns out our military industrial complex ain’t too keen on Marines choking the chicken and she-boppin’ all over Afghanistan. In fact, they’re so turned off by it that the powers-that-be concocted the above warning and posted it inside all of the porta-potties on the bases. Some on the inside think it’s a joke with one medic saying that you can’t get anything via semen (well one can get pregnant) unless an open wound happens to be in attendance. Eww. I couldn’t care less if Marines are playing with themselves..seriously. They’re in a shitty part of the world, fighting an even shittier war so why NOT let them diddle their puds every once in a while? Sheesh. It’s the least we can do.

3) I am very curious about this.

Screen shot 2013-10-09 at 9.31.24 AM

 

I’m morbidly curious. There, does that explanation sit better with you?

4) Oh goody. He’s single again.

(via altmalcontent.wordpress.com)

(via altmalcontent.wordpress.com)

Too bad he didn’t have the cajones to JUST age gracefully. He looks like one of my Il Bisonte handbags.

5) You really wanna know why I’m easing into veganism? Here’s one of the many reasons. H/t to Mother Jones.

40 Percent of Your Chicken Nugget Is Meat. The Rest Is…

bones, nerves, skin, feet, eyes, hair, claws, intestines, arteries, Republicans, herpes scabs, pus, scar tissue, Rick Santorum, afterbirth, varicose dick veins, egg shells, Brook Astor’s crotch, Pig Newtons, shedded snake skin, haggis, panty scrape, meconium, Putin’s asscrack sweat, Laplander jiz, Rice-A-Roni, John Boehner’s gin-soaked salty nutsack and pubic lice.

Ok, I went a titch overboard there, but you get the general idea. That shit’s bad for you.

 

 

Phive Tings: September 25, 2013

1) When Mother Nature wants to get your attention, she does it with a bang.

Damn.

via The Telegraph UK.

Pakistan earthquake island is a ‘mud volcano’

Dr Brian Baptie from the British Geological Survey says the island that appeared off the coast of Pakistan after the earthquake is a “mud volcano” formed as gas and water forced its way to the surface.

Holy shiite. So, even though this 7.7 magnitude quake killed over 300 people, it managed to create an island because why the hell not?

2) It’s no secret that many child stars don’t age well. Some turn to drugsand more drugsSome become strippers then go and kill themselves. Some turn into punk rockers and cameramen/script supervisor. Then, there are those who turn out well, but they’re no fun to talk about, which leads us to Kirk Cameron. Turns out this born again, gay hatin’, blames-the-Holocaust-on-Darwin, Christian is now God’s Dear Abby. Don’t believe me? Then, you’re going to hell, but first read this.

via SFWeekly.com

Kirk Cameron Answers Your Letters to God

God is tough dude to get a hold of see, unless you’re Kirk Cameron. He and the Big Guy are chums–so much so that he had to make a movie about his relationship with God. Oh and Cameron’s–oh SHIT. We missed it. The screening via Liberty University was last night and we fucking missed it. Shitty shitty piss piss fuck fuck.

But WAIT! My sources tell me that this cinematic tour-de-force will be screened AGAIN on October 3rd. Anyone care to join me?

3) While we’re on the subject of religion, another big star of the 1970s/early 80s is having a tough time with her abode.

Olivia Newton-John Holds Exorcism At Florida Home After Contractor Suicide

(via ibtimes.com)

(via ibtimes.com)

via The Inquisitr.

“Olivia Newton-John hired a priest to perform an exorcism at her Florida home after a contractor committed suicide on the property last month.

Christopher Pariseletti was believed to have been having financial difficulties with his business and asked the 64-year-old Grease star for a loan to keep it from closing. He killed himself with a shotgun by the pool while the home was empty and was found by another contractor. Pariseletti was apparently seen crying earlier that morning.”
Aaaaaaand that’s all you really need to know about this story. Why? Because I’m too lazy to write about it.
4) Oh, Florida, Florida, Florida.
via Raw Story.

Yet another Florida man arrested at strip club for leaving kid in car

(via Raw Story)

(via Raw Story)

Why am I not surprised by the word “yet” in the headline? Anyone care to take a stab at as to why?

5) Game, set, smash!

Martina Hingis Teams Up With Mother, Mother’s Boyfriend To Beat Up Husband

(via Exposay.com)

(via Exposay.com)

Apparently, Martina Hingis has a hard time keeping her balls in the court, and likes to play doubles with more than one partner, and her hubby didn’t care for it. So much for tennis being a game about love.

That’s one helluva slam.

Cinco Cosas Para 23 de Septiembre 2013

Psych! This ain’t gonna be in Spanish. I don’t speak a lick of it, folks. Sorry.

1) So, I’m getting the feeling that my fellow humans are untrained in the basics of wiping one’s ass. I don’t know if it’s because folks are lazy as all hell these days, or if some feel that someone else should wipe their ass for them, or because they’re just fucking heinous in general. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was example number three.

Instead of folks getting off their lazy asses–so to speak–our friends in the asswipe industry, have come up with a few products to aid in the evil-eye wiping process.

(via Gawker)

(via Gawker)

They’re baby wipes for grownups, and bravo! What a grand idea! However, there’s a problem–you ain’t supposed to flush these things, and as a result, these wipes be cloggin’ up the sewer systems.

Via the AP.

“The problem got so bad in this western New York community this summer that sewer officials set up traps — basket strainers in sections of pipe leading to an oft-clogged pump — to figure out which households the wipes were coming from. They mailed letters and then pleaded in person for residents to stop flushing them.

“We could walk right up, knock on the door and say, ‘Listen, this problem is coming right from your house,'” said Tom Walsh, senior project coordinator at South & Center Chautauqua Lake Sewer Districts, which was dispatching crews at least once a week to clear a grinder pump that would seize up trying to shred the fibrous wipes.”

“My team regularly goes sewer diving” to analyze what’s causing problems, said Trina McCormick, a senior manager at Kimberly-Clark Corp., maker of Cottonelle. “We’ve seen the majority, 90 percent in fact, are items that are not supposed to be flushed, like paper towels, feminine products or baby wipes.”

Let me get this straight–some paper product companies have dudes on staff whose jobs are to set up traps for dirty asswipes, then go to the offending household and tell the denizens of said abode(s) to stop flushing the wipes and perhaps learn how to CLEAN ONE’S DIRTY ANUS WITH ACTUAL TOILET PAPER, YOU KNOW, THAT KIND THAT’S ACTUALLY FLUSHABLE?

Perhaps bidets aren’t such a crazy concept after all.

2) Go for it. I’m not done making fun of you yet, Mrs. Palin.

3) Neil Patrick Harris needs to sit down. I’ve never seen a more self-involved awards show host in my entire life. Due to his over-inflated ego (and the fact that he produced the show), we had to sit through two too many song and dance numbers which eliminated four ACTING categories from last night’s broadcast to make up for time. All of the guest performer awards were given out at the “You’re Not Important Enough for the Real Emmys” event that probably took place in a bathroom in Griffith Park.

(via entertainment.time.com)

(via entertainment.time.com)

Also, very short clips of of the nominees’ performances were shown–you know–like they do during the Oscars. Someone help me out here–the Emmys are an awards show for tee vee performances, yes? The performances are awarded, same with the writing, directing, etc. It’s not a venue for showing off your dancing and comedy chops to the audience. Hey, NPH, there is such a place for that act–tis called a one-man show.

4) See, this is why science is GOOD. It’s VERY, VERY GOOD. We get to learn tidbits like this.

via Discovery.com

Kaboom! Milky Way’s Black Hole Erupted 2 Million Years Ago

(via Discovery.com)

(via Discovery.com)

5) Veep Dickem Cheney got mocked by a dude in a kilt for being a shitty shot.

I’ll just leave this here.

Reality TV: A New Crop of Crap

Or How We’ve Become A Nation of Fame Whores.

Reality tee vee has been the “It Girl” of Hollywood for well over a decade. Americans can’t seem to get enough of them which is why the tee vee industry feels compelled to keep churning ’em out. The shows are cheap to produce and they give ordinary folks a shot at stardom (refer to Andy Warhol & his 15 minutes of fame claim). We’ve witnessed ordinary people top the douchebag chart after stints on a reality tee vee show, and as a result, we are slowly turning into a nation of entitled half-wits who believe they are due for a spin in the spotlight at whatever cost.

Mark Burnett and Andy Cohen need to be taken away and reprogrammed since they’re both partially to blame for the dumbing down of American society. Well, Mr. Cohen more than Mr. Burnett. All Mr. Burnett really did is introduce us to watching relatively thought-free, yet pretty people, run around nekkid in some of the more remote locations on Earth. So, he opened the flood gates a titch. And, to be fair, I watched maybe 3 episodes of “Survivor.” I just couldn’t get into it, and I found that watching my toenails grow to be much more interesting.

Now, Mr. Cohen, probably believes it would do society good by giving us the “Real Housewives” series. Again, I watched more than my fair share of those shows, but when I realized that the women featured in the episodes were basically the lowest common denominator, I had to change the channel. In a weird way, Mr. Cohen should be commended for elevating mediocrity to an art form. <slow clap>

Of course, there is a plethora of crappy tee vee–not just the reality sort–scattered about, and no one is forcing me to watch it. But watching such low-brow tee vee is better than me cutting myself to take away from the pain from witnessing those with room temp IQs profit nicely while the public watches.

Since my three readers are curious as to which shows have my Costco knickers in a wad, well, here they are.

This idea just hurts. Seriously–what woman, in her right mind would want to plunked down in the middle of the wilderness, all nekkid with NO feminine hygiene? Yes, that’s the first thing I thought of when I heard one of the participants was a woman–how is she gonna deal with getting her little red friend when she’s fighting off bahrs and other wild life? Don’t get me started on the whole not bathing deal and having to forage for food in order to FUCKING STAY ALIVE part of the show. There must be an easier way to achieve your 15 minutes–how about blowing a d-list celeb in a Gremlin and having a friend record & post it on the Internets? Or, cause a ruckus (preferably with breastesses flinging about) whilst being arrested for stealing a chicken leg and get a friend to once again, record  and post it online? These folks surely coulda come up with something better. “Naked and Afraid” is just a few clicks away from entertainment–it’s almost sadistic–it’s misery wrapped up in pit viper bites, chafed testicles, malaria and uncontrollable diarrhea.

It premieres on June 23rd on the Discovery Channel.

Screen shot 2013-06-17 at 5.57.13 PM

Full disclosure here–I’ve watched all three episodes of this next show. Honestly I couldn’t help myself because not only is it scraping the bottom of the reality tee vee barrel, but I gotta see if one of these broads actually hooks up with some dude. I’m talking about “Pregnant & Dating” which airs on WETV on Fridays. Oh, and this show is a huge self-esteem booster for someone like me. Why, you ask? Hey, I may not have a job or a ton of money, but at least I’m not single, pregnant and so fucking desperate for some dick that I’m hauling my pregnant ass out on dates OR hitting up a matchmaker for help instead of concentrating on having a healthy baby. That’s exactly what these women are doing.

Don’t believe me? Take a gander, won’t you please?

These women are the apex of awful. So are their friends. Call me crazy, but shouldn’t your first concern be when you discover you’re in a family way, be to make sure you spew a healthy spawn from your haunches in nine months time? Oh wait! How dare I forget! Kids are accessories these days and it’s more important for most pregnant women to look good (“don’t gain too much weight now!”) than to make sure their time on the nest is as worry-free and safe as possible.

Screen shot 2013-06-17 at 6.25.54 PM

What gets me is the women get upset and pissy when the dudes they’re out with act all aloof and shocked upon learning that their date is with child. It’s also apparent that if the cameras weren’t rolling, these men would leave skid marks as soon as their date uttered the words “I’m pregnant.” No offense to the men, but who would want to date a woman who’s carrying a child that isn’t even theirs? Yes, yes, I’m sure there are men out there who would step up to the plate, but the men featured on “Pregnant & Dating” so far have the depth and character of a shoelace. In short, I don’t see it happening. But, it’s early in the season, maybe they’ll each find someone who won’t mind recording the episiotomy for posterity, and will help make shampoo and other yum yums out of the placenta.

WETV has turned out to be Darwin’s Waiting Room when it comes to reality shows. The people featured on their shows aren’t the best or the brightest. Case in point: “Bridezillas” is now entering its tenth and final season. Thank dog. For those of you not in the know or aren’t into watching people who have as much class as a fart in church, this show is about bridezillas, or horrible women who are about to get married. These women are so awful, they’ve even left me speechless at times with their unty-cay behavior. If you know anything about me, it takes a mighty display of largess to render me speechless.

A taste. (Warning: you’re gonna need a sedative–or 12–after watching. Fuck it, take ’em before watching the pre-matrimonial mayhem)

At first, naive me thought, “Naaah … no way. People don’t act this way. Nuh uh! Noooo waaay! What would their mothers say if they witnessed such abhorrent behavior?” But after ruminating about it for a bit, it became obvious to me that why yes, people DO act like assholes no matter who’s around. It’s the way we were wired, and it can be quite profitable if there’s someone filming it.

However, “Bridezillas” is not the main focus here. “Marriage Boot Camp: Bridezillas” is. Surprise, surprise, some of the bridezillas have found themselves smack-dab in the middle of shitty marriages, and since they’re trying to stretch their 15 minutes out for as long as possible, they’ve decided that fixing their poisoned unions is best done in front of millions of people.

Jesus be a fence. That’s all I can say about the whole, sordid subject.

Yes, it does get worse. But this time, with a real bad wig on an adult thumbsucker.

 

Boned

Why am I surprised when an infamous person’s 15 minutes of fame is extended thanks to the brilliant idea of making a sex tape?

I keep hoping that humanity will man-up and put the kibosh on this phenom and actually heap huge rewards upon those of us who worked out asses off and played by the rules. But, as long as there’s a buck or two–or a million–to be made, Z-list celebs and their penchant for recording every fucking move for their half-wit fan base will continue until the sun explodes and kills us all.

Let this sink in and we’ll discuss it.

From The Daily Beast.

Report: ‘Teen Mom’ Signs $1M Porn Deal

“Looks like Farrah Abraham’s “sex tape” is being made into a porno after all. The Teen Mom star reportedly inked a nearly $1 million deal with Vivid Entertainment for the release of her tape, after initially claiming it was for private use only. The porno with James Deen allegedly comes with a classy title, too: “Farrah Superstar: Backdoor Teen Mom.” While most suspected the tape was good old-fashioned porn, Abraham and even Vivid founder and co-chair Steven Hirsch ran with the “sex tape” ruse for a while. Deen, meanwhile, tried to set the record straight that no one would believe it was for private use. “I said I’m like the worst person for this job because, not to be arrogant, but people are gonna know me,” he told The Daily Beast.

farrah.abraham.500x332

For those of you who don’t know who Farrah Abraham is, she is one of the stars of MTV’s reality series “Teen Mom.” Like all of the participants on that show, Farrah realized that as soon as her water broke, being a teen mom just plain sucks wang because not only does she have to deal with the trials and tribulations of being a teenager, she’s also a new mom! From what I’ve heard, being a new mom at any age is the toughest gig around. From time to time I would watch the season which featured Farrah, but had to stop due to the chronic laryngitis I got from yelling at the tee vee.

Admittedly, Farrah was different from most teen moms featured because her baby daddy died in a car crash prior to the birth of their daughter, Sophia, so she didn’t have worry about which baseball cap the baby daddy would be wearing when he picked up their kid for a play date with his new girlfriend’s kid. Or whether or not his facial hair was properly cared for.

Admit it–that’s mighty sad.

However, throw in her porn paramour, James Deen

main_308960k

 

the sage advice of the King of All Snake Oil Salesmen, Dr. Phil,  and we can use an egg timer to tell us exactly when she’ll be spit out of the ass-end of the porn industry. Well, that and the fact that she’s about as bright as a dove bar.

Am I completely surprised by this? Nah, but what this tells me is I need to have a teen mom, make a sex tape and collect a sub-mental fan base.

I’m going back to bed.

The Balcony is Closed

It’s been a while, I know, and I was all ready to write about something I came across earlier in the week.

However, I feel the need to pay tribute to someone who’s work meant a great deal to me–Roger Ebert–who died today after a long battle with cancer.

The Eberts at an event I covered in 2007.

The Eberts at an event I covered in 2007.

His death saddens me tremendously because he was a huge voice, not only in film criticism, but in life in general. His prose and wit were unmatched (except by his late-partner in crime, Gene Siskel), and there isn’t a film critic today who comes close to his abilities. He knew how to read a film, then discuss it in a way that wasn’t condescending or obnoxious.

Ebert was a writer, first and foremost, and that made him so good at his job. His love of film just added to that talent.

As most I’ve mentioned before, I grew up in the Chicago area, so watching Siskel & Ebert, and eventually just Ebert, was required of all Illinois citizens. Also, we had to read their columns to learn how to write criticism, and well, how to write in general. After Siskel died, Ebert was the only critic I paid attention to. Sure, Kenneth Turan, A.O. Scott and Manohla Dargis are fine, but…meh…their work doesn’t compare to Ebert’s.

I’ve met Ebert a few times and each meeting, he was kind, gracious and witty. The most memorable was years ago when I was a senior at the University of Wisconsin. My father had the same lawyer as Siskel and Ebert, and said lawyer had an open house at his fab, newly rehabbed greystone in one of Chicago’s tonier neighborhoods. I was an obnoxious, know-it-all film student who became quite verklempt when I heard my father say, “Oh Mr. Ebert, I’d like you to meet my darling daughter, Julia. She’s a film student at Wisconsin, and will be graduating in a few weeks. Hey, any advice you can give her would be GREAT! THANKS!”

Aaaand, my dad disappeared toward the bar.

Thanks, dad.

Great.

This guy is gonna eviscerate me, test me on my knowledge and I’m gonna, like, dieeeee. Imagine my surprise when the exact opposite happened. Ebert and I spent the next hour or so discussing Kurosawa and how important his films are to not only the film world, but to the world in general. We discussed other film makers as well, but I believe that Ebert was touched by the fact that someone so young with an odd hairstyle, dug someone like Kurosawa. Siskel eventually tagged in and the two of us discussed Truffaut for another hour or so.

Needless to say, it was one of the most memorable moments of my life.

I could go on and on about Ebert, but I won’t. I do suggest reading his past columns and his essays on contemporary American life. He had a lot to say and the world will feel this tremendous loss for years.

I leave you with two things–one of my fave Ebert’s quotes, and a Sneak Previews/Siskel & Ebert episode where the two critics discuss the disturbing trend of violence toward women in films.

“’Kindness’ covers all of my political beliefs. No need to spell them out. I believe that if, at the end, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do. To make others less happy is a crime. To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn’t always know this and am happy I lived long enough to find it out.” —Roger Ebert

And the clips–

Plus, a bonus out-take bit with Gene. Classic.

RIP, Roger. The City of Big Shoulders won’t be the same without you.

Damn.

The Lure of the Sideburns

One of the hidden joys of being unemployed is the amount of craptastic tee vee watching I get in on a daily basis. I’m not just talking about the political shows, but shows from the days of yore like “Bewitched”, “Murder She Wrote” and my personal fave “Emergency!”

When my sisters and I weren’t putting on our version of “Godspell” for our patient parents and our slew of household pets, we watched shows like “Emergency!” Hey, what can I say? We were kids growing up in the ‘burbs of Chicago, and there wasn’t a lot to do at night except chase fireflies and spy on the neighbors. Even after a while, the spying became tiresome. I mean, how many times can one watch the neighbor across the street get drunk and pass out on the steps?

“Emergency!” was special because it introduced me to my first tee vee boyfriend, Randolph Mantooth. He was tall, dark and handsome. And for some reason, he never combed his hair and that made him all the more foxy.

Mantooth1

Also, the show introduced me to that dynamic duo of Bobby Troup and his wife, Julie London. You may know him better as the guy who wrote the classic song “Route 66”, and she was a fine lady crooner in her day.

Then, there was Kevin Tighe (Roy DeSoto) who went onto portray, according to Weebs, “some of the meanest, mother fuckers ever.”

kevintighe

Of course, the supporting cast was just as memorable as the stars. And, they sported the best sideburns and porn star staches ever.

cast-station2-bw emergency_cast

“An English Visitor”: Season 3, Ep. 04, (1973) A paramedic from England has a stint with Station 51 observing Roy and John, whose rescues include: a structure fire; a gunslinger’s partner; a car accident; and a man trapped in heavy machinery, where the visitor saves John’s life. At the hospital, Dr. Brackett treats a rock singer in a diabetic coma and Dr. Early has problems with a defiant nurse. (courtesy imdb.com)

Above is the official version, but the following is what I saw.

The episode starts out with the station treating some burned-up cop in an elevator shaft of an old building, which anyone with a trained eye can tell is a building on the backlot at Universal Studios. Guess someone started a fire via Molotov Cocktail which is causing all sorts of drama. God damn militants! Stay tuned…

So, there’s a fella from the other side of the pond visiting Station 51. He’s sportin’ a big-sexy, 70s style ‘stache. Who knows what he’s up to, guv’nuh. Jason (his name), the Brit, is only staying with Station 51 for a few days, then he’s off to Miami to check out another program and hopefully chillax with some ex-pat Cubans. I’m not sure about the ex-pat Cubans part, I just made that up since this particular scene was cut with an axe–it’s that bad.

Meanwhile, a lovely lady who appears to be some sort of  rock star, is passed out in the ER. Dixie thinks she’ remembers her, and is certain she has seen her somewhere before. Cue ominous music…

Gage and DeSoto then go out on yet another call to some sort of Wild West Show gunslingin’ has-been, Homer, who has retired in the north Valley (why there is anyone’s guess). Homer’s wife, Martha, has some sort of cut and is quite scared. He was the best, Martha opined whilst DeSoto worked on her. Then, Homer fired his wee gun at an ugly flower-pot in the beige living room, and the boys skidaddled outta there before they too were covered in beige plaid and bullet fragments. Good riddance, was my reaction.

Back at the hospital, there is dissention in the ranks as Dixie dresses down a nurse who has been defiant with Doc Early. See, there have been complaints against this one particular nurse and she has to realize that she works for Dixie now and that’s that. No if, ands or buts about it! You see, folks, Dixie, is the only one who gets to have ‘tude around Rampart and don’t YOU forget it. 

Patsy, the comatose rock star, has diabeetus, the flu and is exhausted and Doc Brackett AND his sideburns are seeing to it that she gets the proper care. So, he’s never going to leave her side which should be, well, interesting …

Now, a dude with something that resembles a JewFro is wondering why his client –Patsy– is still so sick. He thinks it was the militants, Brackett thinks that maybe she was doing some illegal pharma ingesting and maybe took too much brown acid, or it could the myriad of health problems mentioned above. Who knows, but we’ll find out in the 3rd act. I just want Brackett and this guy to get into a whole “My hair is foxier than your hair” type duel.

Update on the policemen.. Doc Early and Dix are discussing him, now Dixie is whining about the nurse with the ‘issues’, but I really wish they’d break into a version of “route 66″–that would make the scene so much more enjoyable.

If the catheter passed through the tourniquet, it could float in his lungs..” something no one wants to hear EVER. So it’s off to the cath lab to retrieve that sucker. Side note here: you know a scene is uber-dramatical when you hear the swelling of the strings section over the rest of the orchestra.

Oh no, Patsy is circling the drain, but dammit! Doc Brackett is gonna do everything in his power to save her! He said something like “I WANT YOU TO LIVE! I WANT YOU TO LIVE!” while holding her face and probably dislocating her jaw.

Back to the wayward nurse, Sheila. She blames herself for the tourniquet oops and now Dixie is trying to calm her–not through song, but through reason and a comforting tone. So hot–I hope they go at it later.

Uh oh, Jason is hitting on the nurses which ain’t cool since that’s Gage’s MO. See, Johnny Gage is hot–everyone thinks so, and the running joke of the show is how many nurses he can bang. However, since this show was on in the 70s, ‘bang’ was not a euphemism used to describe ‘screwing,’ and come to think of it, ‘screwing’ wasn’t used on the tee vee then either. Hmm. I’m perplexed — I don’t know what term they used.

Next rescue: A major truck accident on the WB backlot–er, I mean in the “North Valley”. The boys had to use some version of the jaws of life to pry the demin-clad Waylon Jennings lookalike from his rig. They had to be careful considering he was wearing some rather rad bell bottoms, and no one in their right mind would want to harm that fashion goodness. Poor dude has a busted ankle and Johnny ain’t feeling too great.

You know why?

Because the truck is loaded with HOOCH! MOTHER NATURE’S HAIR! MARY JANE! POT! All of the fireman instantly ran to the truck to “help” while Vince the ever-present LAPD motorcycle cop looked on with a creepy smile on his face. Yeaaah…it was alll so….niiice…

I bet those folks never figured that the pot would be legal today in California. My oh my have the times changed.

Back to the rock star– Doc Brackett thinks she’s burned out with being all sick and shit. She’s not responding to treatment, and “she may die.” Dumbass Manager JewFro doesn’t quite get it because “you gotta hit it while it’s hot.” Just as Doc Brackett is finishing up his lecture, Patsy crashes! It doesn’t look good folks, but they made sure they covered up her lady bits before saving her life, and kept them covered.

“If we don’t kill this infection, this infection may kill her!”

The finale emergency involves a mishap at a gravel pit. Wait..did LA ever have gravel pits? Really?

So, Jason gets to join Gage and DeSoto on this particular rescue, much to Gage’s chagrin. Hmm..I think something nefarious is about to happen to our guest. Back to the initial rescue, turns out this dumbass guy is trapped in a rock grinder. I mean really, so much for being careful. And just as the rescue was happening, Gage goes and slips and Jason saves his sweet ass from plummeting to his death, and Gage ends up getting a nice wedgie in the process.

“Pull man, PULL!”

Meanwhile that other guy’s legs are dead I bet.

No, no–of course they aren’t! This isn’t “ER”! He ends up getting rescued–of course–and his tuchas is shipped to Rampart for further treatment probably by .

And speaking of Rampart, Patsy is out of the woods, for now. Dixie has re-applied her nude lipstick, and Doc Brackett’s sideburns are still all kinds of awesome. Jason cock-blocked Gage from getting that hot nurse up in orthopaedics AND we learned that our English visitor is a real, live genuine hero. Tally ho, pip pip and all that then, guv’nuh.

I think I’m in love all over again.

Natty Dreadlocks + McCrabass = Employment?

One of the amazing things about employment–mainly the people I know who have jobs–is how easy they seem to not only get jobs–but how they seem to move effortlessly from one high paying job to the next.

I guess most of these folks are deserving of these jobs and I’m happy for them (well not really), but what is glaringly obvious in this city is employers keep pulling from the same talent pool.

What creases me is these employers around these parts are not real keen on taking chances on folks who may have the drive, the will to work their asses off and the smarts to do a good job, but not the honor of having a name or an ‘in’, or comparable experience but not the exact experience.

This isn’t working for me. I find the media world in Chicago to be impenetrable, unless timing is on your side and you have a pocketful of great connections. It reminds me of the nepotism that permeates Hollywood, but with people who need to know something about all subjects, not just about making movies.

Call me crazy, but that myopic attitude doesn’t bode well for the future of media in this town.

Let’s take a gander at what has been polluting my RSS feed lately. There has been so much good stuff, but this one really caught my attention.

Man’s Hair Shaved Off And Stolen At Party, Dreadlock Thefts Rise In South Africa

Now, I understand that there are women in India who sell their beautiful, jet-black locks so that broads here in the US can have secksy long hair, but dreadlocks? I mean, aren’t hard-core dreads made out of shit, dirt (hair, natch) and other glue-like substances that cause the follicles to stick together?

Maybe it’s a ‘black thing’? I dunno. Perhaps this article from News One can explain it best, because White Girl Pearl here is at a loss.

Man’s Hair Shaved Off And Stolen At Party, Dreadlock Thefts Rise In South Africa

“Zimbabwean Mutsa Modonko experienced the epitome of a bad hair day when he was partying at a Johannesburg, South Africa, nightclub. After 10 years of growing his dreadlocks, friends at the party found him passed out with his head cleanly shaven, and according to Johannesburg’s Times Live, stealing dreadlocks is becoming a growing trend.”

Zimbabwean.. Zimbabwean.. say that word 10 times fast whilst drunk and speaking with a Cockney drawl. Then, do it again but this time in Pig Latin. It’s super fun!

“Natural hair and dreadlocks are huge business in South Africa.  The locks can be sold as hair extensions and can typically go for as much as $275, depending on the length.  As a matter of fact, the demand for the matted locks is so high that patrons often will not even question where the hair came from.”

Oh no, why would anyone want to question a product that is about to be sewn into their noggin? Hmm..this is kinda like a Brazilian waxologist who uses recycled muslin strips that are filled with a week’s worth of pubes. You’re welcome for that image, by the way.

“Hairstylist John Wushe, who owns a Johannesburg salon told Times Live, “They are becoming very popular. On a busy day we get about 10 people [wanting] to extend their hair.”

The stolen hair can be weaved on to the head of a male or female, whereas before, synthetic hair had been used for eons. The typical weaving-in process can take up to two hours and can be woven on to the head using a crochet hook or needle and thread.  A stylist can charge up to about $170 to weave in the dreadlocks.

(courtesy of BlackPlanetNext.com)

(courtesy of BlackPlanetNext.com)

Although there appears to be numerous dreadlocks thefts, according to Johannesburg police, they have thus far received only one such report that came through last year.  Johannesburg police spokesman Captain John Maluleka told Times Live his department encourages residents to file police reports over such hair thefts, but he thinks their hesitation can be attributed to just sheer embarrassment.

In most of the cases, dreadlock thieves are zeroing in on the fairer sex, and according to Randburg hairstylist Lebo Masimong, he says, it is because women appear to be easier targets, “You are an easy target if you walk around the CBD (central business district) and your hair is loose. They don’t care about your money or fancy phone. They are only after your hair.”

What this story fails to tell us is how these thieves get the dreads–do they knock victims down then start shaving? Do they drug them then start shaving away? What kind of equipment do they use? Is there a middleman? Are they incorporated? What other bennies do they get? What are the hours? Are there promotions? Exactly what IS a promotion in this particular field?

I gotta know because I need a job and this might be a whole new thing for me.