Cinco de Mayo Edition!

When I see the casts for some of these superhero films, I fear the movies will have an esoteric quality to them that will make them less fun for the average movie-goer. I don’t wanna see Martin Scorcese’s take on “Captain American” in a post-9/11 United States (actually, that would be kinda hot; bet it’s already in production) or Sidney Lumet presents “Sub-Mariner,” feel me? I could see it now - Javier Bardem playing Namor as a totured soul; a half-human, half –Atlantean royal who’s constant struggle for acceptance by those who live above, manifests itself through the declaration of eternal warfare on humanity, and is a metaphor for mixed-race and multi-cultural citizens’ fight for approval within a society that claims to embrace diversity while displaying actions that contradict the claim. Does that sound like an edge-of-your-seat thriller? Didn’t think so. This brings me to “Iron Man.” The cast includes three of the most overrated (but critically lauded) actors of my lifetime – Robert Downey Jr., Gwyneth Paltrow, and Terrence Howard. If there were ever three people who have the potential to take the fun out of “Iron Man” - which should be impossible considering he’s rich, has an indestructible iron suit, and can friggin’ fly - it’s America’s favorite recovering addict-boy, the chick who married the dude who makes all of the sad sounding songs, and the sensitive, over-acting pimp. Maybe my worries are without merit. After all, Christian Bale, Morgan Freeman, and Cillian Murphy made “Batman Begins” into one of my favorite movies. Furthermore, it’s obvious Americans doesn’t share my reservations; they shared their tax rebate checks to the tune of over $100 million for “Iron Man’s” opening weekend.

Electrifying conclusion: I haven’t even seen the movie. There I go again making judgments based on precious little evidence. That’s what’s so great about me. The “X-Men” series is my holy grail of balance between fun and substance in a comic book film. We’ll see how the “Iron Man” bootleg treats me.

The Cinco de Mayo Air Forces are kinda fresh, aint they tho'?

Cinco de Mayo is not Mexico’s Independence Day, that’s on September 16th. May 5th is when Mexico went in on the French after President Benito Juarez flexed his gully muscle by telling France that Mexico will not pay France it’s debts. France thought that Mexico was pussy, and tried to run all up and through, resulting in their asses being handed to them, and an unsubstantiated claim of French troops being trampled by a herd of cattle. Like B.I.G. said, “What’s beef?!” Mexico executed it’s faux-emperor Maximilian for good measure.

Electrifying conclusion: White people love an excuse to party. Cinco de Mayo is not even a national holiday in Mexico, yet Caucasians the country over will drink to “Mexico’s independence” all week. I fuck with Mexicans, they’ve never done anything untoward to me. But if they come at my dude again, like they recently did uptown, I’m running up in that bitch like the Spanish Inquisition, Juarez be damned!


Many of Hollywood’s finest white women are named Jessica or Jennifer. Simpson, Biel, Lopez, Garner, Connely, Aniston, Love-Hewitt, Alba, Hudson, McCarthy, Grey, Tilly, Hahn, Tandy (some would say the quality started to drop a li’l towards the end). Is there a conspiracy? Should I name my daughter, who I will undoubtedly push towards a career in showbiz to enable the vicarious living of me and all of my friends who will never become famous, Jessica or Jennifer to ensure her popularity? Are a good amount of these women I named not even white? Do I have a bit too much time on my hands for someone who actually considers himself quite busy?

Electrifying conclusion: The dopest Jennifer not named above is Jason Leigh. I applaud her nudity in “Single White Female.” The dopest Jessica not named is Rabbit. Hubba. Hubba.


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