The Epic Retardation of Big Mommas: Like Father, Like Son

In regards to its retardation, I was all set to proclaim this movie one of the greatest ever; the final chapter of a trilogy the likes of which will never be surpassed again.  The Back to The Future of retarded films--a real accomplishment.  And I say this because of its concept--a black man dressing up like a fat old woman and loving it so much that not only does he find reasons to don this costume under the guise of 'undercover work,' but also so much that he feels it necessary to pass on his old fat lady drag obsession to his step-son, like a torch passed on from father to son: "Here, the family legacy."  I was really ready to tell this story, really wax it on thick with the bullshit and slanderous tongue that is the M.O. of iR.

But then I saw the film.

This story was no pass of the baton to keep on a silly degrading drag race, it was a stumble short of epic fail.  It is the opinion of this writer that Big Mommas: Like Father, Like Son just may be the end of both Martin Lawrence and Brandon T. Jackson, at least in my eyes, and I say this with particular dread in regards to Mr. Jackson, for at such a young age, with an entire career ahead of him, he has effectively strapped three hundred plus pounds of dead weight to his ankles with this movie.  Get ready for the great sink.

Or maybe you won't drown, young lad--there's always a career in commercials.

And I condemn this poor upstart actor with such a rotten fate with good reason too, for this movie is an utter piece of shit.  Had they spun it my way--the symbolic passing of the torch (wig?), the family legacy to be upheld--this movie would have shined as the final gem on a wonderful project.  A wonderfully retarded one.  But to understand what I mean you must look at it all a certain way, like looking in a Kaleidescope clicking into place.  Stare not at the words themselves but between the lines.

Consider this:

In the original 'Big Momma's House,' Malcolm Turner (Martin Lawrence), is an FBI agent who's actually a master of disguise and has all sorts of prosthetics and movie quality make-up techniques that can help him turn into anybody he wants.  He's been assigned to track down this lifer who escaped prison named Lester Vesco.  Now, he heads out to Georgia and decides it would be best to stake out the house of Big Momma, who happens to be the Grandmother of Lester's ex-girlfriend named Sherry. . . Why this makes sense?  No one really knows.  Anyway, iso facto, Big Momma has to leave conveniently on some trip to see a friend, so Malcolm heads into her pad and stakes it out and shiiiiet, guess who calls?  Why Sherry of course.  He pretends to be Big Momma to lure her to the house and get information from her.  So she shows up the next day with her young son, and there you go, you've got Martin Lawrence in drag, pretending to be a fat old Southern woman.

And although strange, the disguise makes sense, in a way (considering you just forget the fact that he could have just as easily met her at the door the next day with his badge and gun and shit, and gotten all the information that way, but hey, thats no fun!).

But what of Big Momma's House 2?  This same agent finds that this guy, Tom Fuller who is the head of some private corporation is working with some evil douche looking to hack the FBI and commit other forms of cyber terrorism, so he decides the best way to get the dirt is to become his nanny. . . Did he really have to dress up like Big Momma this time? From the franchise stand point, yes, but from a character stand point it makes no fucking sense at all.  I mean he's a master of disguise!  He could have been anything. . . At this point, it just proves that he just loves dressing up like a fat old black lady--its like if Robin Williams' character in the end of Mrs. Doubtfire, after all the hub bub started going around playing nanny for other families, for fun or money, or sick pleasure, whatever.

I mean a nanny?  Martin could have just as easily dressed up like a fat Mexican woman and they could have called it Big Madre's House.

See?  When looking at it this way one can see why Big Momma's House 2 could be considered funny--ole Mister FBI has got a thing for drag--and furthermore how Big Mommas:  Like Father Like Son could have run with it, had they only had some damn artistic integrity for the character they created.  Nope, instead we've got a trilogy that doesn't even stick to its own shit: the boy Trent in the first one is a little boy, in the second film, years later, he's in middle school, and now in the third one he's entering college!  Furthermore, his brother--the baby they so heavily emphasized in the second movie (his wife Sherry was preggers, and he took a desk job to be with the wife: but then again, that itch started and he just had to put on his old lady drawers) is no where to be seen in this third film, and not even mentioned.  Sherry is also absent in this third film, but she's at least mentioned (apparently she was smart enough to turn this one down).  

They story goes like this, Malcolm's shit head step-son Trent The Amazing Aging Boy is an aspiring rapper, though his father doesn't share his same enthusiasm for his choice in a career.  Nope, like a true Dad Malcolm wants Trent to live his dream, to go to Duke University and be a Blue Devil.  Trent should follow daddy's advice, for he isn't the brightest of fellows: he follows his dad while he's doin' his FBI thing to get him to sign a contract for a rapping deal (cause he's 17, yah dig), and ends up witnessing this uber-dangerous dude killing this guy, so guess what? Now he's after Trent. So what does Dad do?

Puts on the fat suit and gets his kid to do the same, and they head out to an all-girls school to hide out and search for this flash drive with all the information on this evil douche: enough to put him away for life.  Never mind that all this time Trent should be finishing up high school and taking Finals, never mind that he'd never be able to get into this girls school because its like Juilliard, and the fool can't sing or dance: just rap. . . And whats worse is the fuckers throw in a love interest for Trent, who he eventually becomes friends with while dressed in his chick outfit, and of course, she finds out, and of course she's quite angry, and of course she forgives him in about a minute.  HATE THAT SHIT.

Include in the fact the movie isn't even funny; not at all, and you've got yourself some epic retardation.

The only thing funny about this movie is that it is even considered a comedy in the first place.  I really wanted to laugh, but often, I did not.  I did laugh once however, with only about 10 minutes left in the movie, and instead of validating the time wasted watching this steaming pile of retardation, it made me angry--angry for finding anything in this movie enjoyable or funny.

I don't understand why these movies are so popular, nor why black comedians have seemed to gravitate towards dressing in drag as old women.  But it seems to work.

Shit, Eddie Murphy, Tyler Perry, and Martin Lawrence should all get together and make a fat black old lady version of The Golden Girls minus a bitch.  That shit would sell like hot cakes!

In short.  F-this movie, and the entire franchise.  I'm sure they'll find some way to make a fourth and maybe even a fifth, what with all the money its been generating we'd be lucky if this doesn't turn into a whole Police Academy franchise. . . 

And it is for all these reasons that iR declares Big Momma:  Like Father, Like Son, epically retarded.

Brandon T. Jackson bobbing his head to his career outro. 

Snookie Writes A Book

Snookie is an orange smurf who is famous for being a retard.  She can be seen on the MTV Show Jersey Shore.

The Bruce Springsteen Auditorium had filled to a capacity the likes of which had not been seen since Bruce Springsteen was there to christen the establishment.  People from all over New Jersey had come to hear an exclusive preview of Snookie of Jersey Shore's new book.  Of course everyone's favorite loveable fuck ups and horn dogs were there:  The Jersey Shore cast, along with some of the finest minds the New Jersey literary world had to offer (including Steve Canoli, the great hack porn writer.)  Even Carrot Top was said to be mingling amongst the crowd, generally pissing off everyone around him.

A man in bright new suit came out to introduce the great author, and as Snookie rose to the stage a great applause erupted from the crowd.  She squeaked her way to the stage and stood behind the podium but was too short to see over it.  This was remedied with the addition of several large volumes by REAL AUTHORS beneath her feet. Adjusting herself, she cleared her throat and began.

"I would like to give you a sample of the new book I have been working away on for the past week.  The book is called A Shore Thing, and I'm very excited about it."  She pulled from between her boobs a wadded up piece of paper, which she unraveled and straightened out right there on the podium.  It contained the text of her latest chapter, written in CAPS LOCK.  For the sake of the reader, this has been changed to standard type face:

"Ahem.  Chapter 12, Pickles. . ."

"Sandy really liked pickles.  Any kind of pickle really.  Big pickles, small pickles.  Sliced, diced.  She didn't really care.  She would even drink the pickle juice.  She even dressed up as a pickle princess for Halloween. All of the boys couldn't keep their eyes off of her, or her giant poof.  She had made an effort to get it in (fuck) that night, and she wasn't going to settle for anything less.

She spotted a gorilla juice head getting drunk on Absolut Vodka and knew she just had to have him.  He was perfect.  He wasn't much of a talker.  He was big.  He had muscles.  Not the sort of smarty type who actually knows what a lobotomy is and likes numbers and stuff. Definitely not a reader.  If she was lucky he'd beat her in a couple of months.

She could tell he was drunk by the way he clung to the bar, and it seemed he still had vomit on his shirt from a previous barfathon in the bathroom."

Snookie smiled, content with her own beautiful flowing prose.

"'Hey' she said.

'Hhheyughh.' he said.

'Wanna smush (fuck)?'

'Mugugghh'

They talked a great deal about other stuff, like cows and how awesome cheese is, but that was really the gist of it.  The important stuff, as 'they' say.  They went home and smushed, and soon after she passed out on him.

She folded up her sheet of paper and returned it safely from whence it came.

"Thank you."  She said, and then exited the stage.  The crowd showed its approval with its applause, a standing ovation!

Outside of the auditorium, pretentious cocksuckers and literary douche bags discussed the novel:

"I love how she uses the pickle as a metaphor for the male anatomy and his potential impotency. . ."  One said.

"Her chapter on Pickles is very reminiscent of Sylvia Plath: a girl trapped in her own little world... trapped in her own bell jar, if you will. . ."  Another said.

"Really?  I thought it was more reminiscent of a Joan Didion. . . the emptiness of society, the chase of nothing.  Birth, sex, and death. Terribly real and unashamed of it.  Cold."  Another rebutted.

The great porn hack writer Steve Canoli had only this to say:

"I'd love to suck dem titties."

Snookie is not only writing a book, but a fucking NOVEL.  This shit, I cannot believe, though I'm certain it will sell well and probably make the Bestseller's list.  

Fuckin' a.

Amazon has a synopsis on the book already, which at a whopping 304 pages, makes for quite a read.  (Though to be fair, 25 of those pages are a color book, featured at the end of the novel, with pictures of margarita bottles, pickle princesses, and giant Coronas.)

It goes like this:

'Its a summer to remember. . . at the Jersey Shore.

Giovanna "Gia" Spumanti and her cousin Isabella "Bella" Rizzoli are going to have the sexiest summer ever.  While they couldn't be more different--pint-size Gia is a carefree, outspoken party girl and Bella is a tall, slender athelete who always holds her tongue--for the next month they're ready to pouf up their hair, put on their stilettos, and soak up all that Seaside Heights, New Jersey, has to offer:  hot guidos, cool clubs, fried Oreos, and lots of tequila.

So far, Gia's summer is on fire.  Between nearly burning down their rented bungalow (LULZ) inventing the popular "tan-tags" at the Tantastic Salon where she works, and rescuing a shark on the beach (DOUBLE LULZ), she becomes a local celebrity overnight.  Luckily, she meets the perfect guy to help her keep the flames under control.  Firefighter Frank Rossi is exactly her type:  big, tan, and Italian.  But is he tough enough to handle Gia when things really hat up?'

oh man... you can read the rest here: A Shore Thing.

Quite frankly it sounds like an amazing book. . . I must have it.

I'll put it right next to The Great Gatsby on my bookshelf.

It seems fitting. . . you know, The American Dream!

With this we can add Snookie to the list of retards with books, like Paris Hilton and Jessica Simpson, just to name a few.

Pardon while my heart weeps...

And for this reason iR declares Nicole "Snookie/Snooki" Polizzi, epically retarded.

Mike "The Situtation" Sorrentino, also of Jersey Shore fame, is writing a self help book. . . If you've ever seen the show, you know how retarded this really is, for who, in their right mind, would ever want to be like The Situtation?

Who wouldn't want to take advice from this douche?  I mean for one thing, he's got good taste when it comes to hairstyles, and his choice in poses?  Top notch, top notch.  I'm sure the first chapter is:  "Come Up With A Douchey Nickname Said to Make The Ladies Wet. . . Preferably A Word That You Love Using, Even When Not Talking About Your Abs."  But hey. . . if I wasted two hours a day in a gym working on my abs, I'd have to be in love with them too, especially if all that gym work meant no book work and my brain was the size of a peanut, what with all the drinking. . .

Snookie's first appearance on MTV was on a dating show called Is She Really Going Out With Him, a show about supposed 'hot' chicks dating complete and utter tools. . . In Snookie's case, thats all she ever dates.

In high school Snookie claims she had an eating disorder and weighed only 80 pounds... Obviously she's over it.

Jersey Shore Season 1: Snookie made 5,000 per episode.

Jersey Shore Season 2: Snookie made 30,000 per episode.

Snookies book will be realeased January 4th, 2011.

Then of course, South Park spoofed her best:

Snookie sells her own slippers... snookislippers.com such great items include: giant pink slippers that resemble high top tennis shoes, and giant penguin slippers!

Snookie isn't even Italian... she was born in Chile and adopted by Italians..

as always,

love,

iR

The Epic Retardation of The Learning Channel (TLC)

These days, if you visit TLC headquarters in Silver Spring, Maryland, you probably won't even notice the building's highly stylized sign (great work Julio,) what with all the families camping in front of it: families of various different sizes but all bordering on bat shit insane.  If anything they're more like clans than mere families, with cousins upon cousins and sons upon sons and daughters upon daughters, almost as if they were each one stamped out by a machine - the same but yet not the same.  You can follow these clans, one by one, right on down the street and into the building, and even up the elevator and into the waiting room, where you may (if you're lucky) get in that meeting you were hoping for. .  You know, that one where the TLC T.V. Execs convene around a table and not only help ease the financial burden of having far more children than fiscally responsible but also turn you and your family into television whores to the point where you can't even enjoy your own personal time without fear of paparazzi or the press.

Yeah, The Learning Channel, that station that use to be about douchetards building homes and gardens, who taught (or tried to teach) the average asshole that he too could build his own deck!  That same station that featured dolled up aging women with heavy anchors for earrings, who spoke to the female audience and taught fellow lonely housewives how to fill the empty void in their hearts resulting from an uncaring husband and kids always off at school with the illustrious wonders of hobby work:  decorative photo albums and small time bullshit handicrafts.

I say 'use to,' because these days its all reality television and exploitation, and a lot less 'learning.'  The reality shows on TLC aren't just any reality show either, they're some sort of niche that no one else has discovered nor has been willingly to pursue morally (we'll go with the latter.) Yep, TLC has taken that classier route and has chosen not to manipulate and take advantage of 20 somethings full of booze, but rather little people and couples with excessive amounts of children.

If you're lucky, they'll mix in a story about a six hundred pound virgin, or a man with a growth on the side of his face the size of a watermelon.

Classy, real classy.

The vanguard of this latest reality bull on TLC of course, is Jon and Kate Plus 8.  Its about Jon and Kate, who wished to have children but couldn't, so a doctor took Kate's eggs and mixed em up like scrambled eggs, producing first twins, and then sextuplets.  It started as a 'way of creating memories' for the kids so that when they grew up they would be able to look back on their childhood (along with a whole nation of people) and smile about all the good times. . . Instead, it sadly became the chronicling of the destruction of a marriage between two people, the slow castration of  Jon, and the growing bitchiness of Kate.  Meanwhile their children developed into spoiled little brats.

Jon felt trapped, realizing that this would be the rest of his life, so he cheated on Kate and they got divorced.  When they broke up, Kate pursued the show and managed to get it continued, with the Jon part lopped off.  Kate Plus 8, is still a 'way of creating memories' for the kids, but instead chronicles a single woman always donned in a slender dress (tummy tuck,) with extensions in her hair, make up on her face, and high heels underfoot as she barks at her kids and feigns low blood sugar whenever they get out of hand. . .  Yes, the kids are as bratty as ever.

The success and hype around the show produced offspring of its own:

17 Kids and Counting is about the Duggar Family and their 17 children, their excessive amount of offspring resulting from a weak faith in contraceptives and a strong faith in God.  Instead of following the scientific and rather provable fact that when sperm comes in contact with an egg, the two sides of genetic code involved go into making a baby, the Duggars believe that all child births are the work of God, and as such, they shouldn't do a single thing to prevent God's work.  They do this by going without contraceptives and letting God decide just how many children they are blessed enough to have in their lifetime.  After their 18th child, the show became 18 Kids and Counting, and now its all the way up to 19, with 19 Kids and Counting.  These guys have dipped in the gene pool so much their latest bundle of joy has to wear an oxygen tank at all times, and is so susceptible to foreign bodies she can't even be touched by a human hand with it undergoing a seriously amount of scrubbing beforehand.  Mrs. Duggar, the portal from which all these kids came from seems to be happy all the time, and I can't quite figure out why.  No doubt having to worry about 19 children at all times would be enough to fry the brain. . . maybe thats what happened to her, her brain just fizzled out and now all she can do is smile and blink empty eyes.

Oh and guess what?  Every kid, all 19 of em, has a 'J' name.  Talk about fucking annoying.

Table for 12 is about the Hayes family, made up of Eric John a police officer and Elizabeth a house wife, who together had two pairs of twins, and then sextuplets.  I do believe Elizabeth is part animal, for she set a record and had her 6 six kids in a shade over 3 minutes, and all of them above average in weight.  Unfortunately for the Hayes' their story didn't include any cheating fathers nor any of the Jesus elements that were always with the Duggars (not matter how subtle,) so the show only lasted two seasons, and probably won't be coming back.

Hold it fellas, I'm afraid you're just too darn normal.

Ten points for the Back to the Future reference.

Fifty points for those of you who caught it and are playing along. . .

I wish I could go back to the future and tell Jennifer that if she hooks up with Marty, her kids are more likely to get Parkinson's Disease, you know... genes and all.

The latest show to follow in the Jon and Kate footsteps is Sextuplets in New York, and is about the first Latino sextuplets in the United States. The Carpio Sextuplets, who according to TLC are 'ready for their closeup,' are made up of four boys and two girls, all of whom already know how to walk, which means Mom will be spending a lot of time chasing after the little bastards.

TLC's other niche when it comes to reality television is little people, which started with Little People, Big World.  Its about the Roloff family, the head of which is Matt Roloff, who was born with diastrophic dysplasia, a form of dwarfism, and his wife Amy Roloff, who was born with achondroplasia, another form of dwarfism.  They have a set of twins, one who is of average height, and one who is a little person.  They also have another son and daughter, both of average height.  The Roloffs own a giant farm with 34 acres upon which they not only have a acres of pumpkin patches, but also a custom built Western Town and a pirate ship out in the pond, a castle, and a mineshaft with fake treasure at the end of it.

Quite frankly I'm jealous.

Yet what was touted as a show that proved that 'little people can do everything normal people can do, only in a different way,' quickly became a show that bordered on tragedy.  A trebuchet built to attract costumers and fling pumpkins high into the air went off prematurely, severely injuring people; Matt got himself a DUI and a suspended license; constant trips to the hospital and emergency room to relieve complications due to dwarfism; Matt struggling with his health and talking frankly, on the show, about dying; Matt passing out randomly and experiencing vertigo. . .

And now, thankfully, the show is coming to an end.

So what then, to pick up the slack?

Why not a show about a little people couple that makes chocolate?  Yeah, why the hell not?  The Little Chocolatiers, is about little people who, you guessed it, make chocolate and is no doubt another one of TLC's attempts to prove that they're educating people about little people, and not exploiting them, for these two are not little people, they're chocolatiers. . . its a show about making chocolate. . . the chocolatiers just happen to be little.  Get it?  Its all in how you word it.  Steve and Katie Hatch are following the family tradition, making fine chocolates. Usually the show involves some impossibly retarded project they have been commissioned with, like making a 10 foot replica of a bowling alley, complete with pins and bowlers, but made out of nothing but chocolate. The show only lasted 12 episodes, despite all of TLC's efforts to keep it afloat, mainly because no one gave a shit. . . and it was boring as hell.

Still thriving however, is TLC's 'newlywed show,' entitled The Little Couple, but its really a show about a newlywed couple, I swear it, I do. . . they just happen to be little.  In its third season, the show is about Bill Klein and Jen Arnold, who recently got married and now have to deal with the ordeals of finding a home and situating their lives together, as well as 'navigating the ups and downs of any new marriage!'  The last newlyweds I remember being on television were Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey, so I guess this is a drastic improvement. . . I guess.

I guess what I am really trying to tell you is that TLC fucking blows.  The station that once had a core idea changed and became manipulated by trends in television because the station's core idea was retarded to begin with.  Why would lazy fucks who love to watch t.v. be inspired or even mildly interested in shows that were all about working hard and learning how to do stuff?  People watch television so that they don't have to use their mind.  Life is hectic enough as it is, and there's nothing better than a damn good reality show.

You don't have to think, and besides, if you're feeling bad about yourself, all you have to do is watch five minutes of reality television and you're bound to come across someone who has it worse than you are, or is more retarded than you (no matter how dumb you may be.)  It is the essence of any good reality show, because watching reality television is already shameful to begin with; why not go for Gold?  Why not make the most retarded show possible?

And I suppose, this is where TLC fails.  I guess because although they are exploiting the lives of other people, people who willing induce themselves to such torture, they're lives that are generally boring and in my opinion, are epically retarded.  Which isn't to stay that I am hating on little people or couples who have shit tons of kids (actually I am making fun of couples like that.)  Although the station would like to make it appear that they are the holy land for anyone little looking to get into the reality business, its far from that, and is more like a modern version of the movie Freaks.


It is for these reasons that iR declares TLC, epically retarded.

TLC was originally slated with the slogan "A place for learning minds."  It then became "Life Unscripted,"  then "Live and Learn," and its most current incarnation being "Life Surprises."   Yeah. . . I'm real surprised your station went down the shit hole.

TLC is also available in Canada, Norway, and Brazil.

The BBC version of TLC features a show called Honey, We're Killing the Kids, a spoof on Honey I Shrunk the Kids, and is about horrible parenting in the United Kingdom.  lulz, what a great show.

TLC also had another show called Little Parents, Big Charlie, about a couple with dwarfism who had a baby boy, Charlie, who was born without dwarfism.  The show only lasted eight episodes, and no one knows whether it will be coming back or not.

"I poop a lot."  -Beavis.

"Uhhh can you do that thing with my seatbelt again?"  -Butthead

Official TLC website

love, 

iR

Send hate mail to:

infinitelyretarded@live.com

The Totally Fuckables

Fuck you, steroids.

Everyone just about knows all about The Expendables by now, but if you don't I'll catch you up real quick: its an homage to everything badass about action movies. Its an atom bomb of death and destruction scorching through the sky with a fiery anus and a crew of everyone's favorite action stars: Sylvester Stallone, Jason Statham, Dolph Lungren, Mickey Rourke, Jet Li, Bruce Willis, Arnold Schwartzenegger, Randy Couture, Stone Cold Steve Austin, and Terry Crews. Needles to say there's enough testosterone in this movie to kill a pack of bulls.

It is written and directed by Sylvester Stallone, who's apparently a triple threat: writer, director, actor. With The Expendables, he had no problems with the acting or the directing, but he did at times struggle with the writing part. Having made a name for himself with the movie Rocky, Stallone figured he'd have no problems writing this movie, but he found himself to be only half the writer he once was.  He went through many different drafts of the script, some more macho than others. Fortunately, I happen to have one of his earliest drafts, with notes to himself and everything. . . I must say, its pretty damn manly.

And it goes like this:

THE TOTALLY FUCKABLES (working title)

by Sylvester Stallone

FADE IN:

INT. THE BEAVER HUT (BAR) - NIGHT

A hot MODEL/WAITRESS tends to the bar at The Beaver Hut, wiping the tables in such a way as to provide optimal viewing of her cleavage at all times.  

She becomes hot, so she decides to take her top off, as "Bad Medicine" comes on the glowing juke box in the corner.

She dances to herself, completely topless.

A group of bikers on the other side of the bar arm wrestle and curse at one another, their bearded faces trickling foamy beer.

The model/waitress sprays herself with a seltzer water hose.

Random gun shots are heard outside.

She takes a spin around a stripper pole behind the bar.  When she's done she finds BARNEY ROSS sitting in front of her at the bar.

MODEL/WAITRESS

What'll it be?

BARNEY ROSS:

Gimme some sugar.

Barney reaches over and makes out with her.

Men on the other side of the bar are now playing with knives, explosives.

BARNEY ROSS:

(Determined)

And a beer. . . 

Barney smacks her on the ass as she leaves.

The door to the Beaver Hut opens, and standing there in the door way is TOOL.  (AC/DC song.)

TOOL:

Barney. . .

BARNEY ROSS:

(without looking)

Tool. . .

A man comes crashing through The Beaver Hut's main window, showering glass out upon the patrons of The Beaver Hut.  He thrashes to the floor knocking over tables.

Beers crash to the floor, glasses crash to the floor. 

The man doubles over in a pool of glass.

BARNEY ROSS:

(amused)

I see you brought company.  Ceaser, I pressume?


TOOL:
You know how he always likes to make an entrance.

HALE CEASER steps through the newly formed opening.  He stands amongst the glass smiling.

Another MAN gets up.

MAN:

(angry)
Hey!


BARNEY:
(to himself)
Don't do it.


MAN:
Hey!  You!  Big Man!

He gets up in Ceasers face, looking like he wants to fight.

MAN:

You spilled my beer!  Its seems to me you and your friend are lookin' for trouble.

TOOL:

Tool.

MAN:

Did you just call me a tool?

TOOL:

(laughing)

No its my name.

MAN:

(at Ceaser)

Well it seems to me like you and your tool are looking for a fight.

Ceaser and Tool look angry, almost if ready to pounce on the guy.

A hand grabs the man's shoulder, its Barney's.

BARNEY:

Hey man, take it easy.  You don't know who you're messing with.

MAN:

Looks like a bunch of jerk offs to me.

BARNEY:

No. . . not quite.

"Testosterone" plays.

The man swings for Barney but he ducks and plants him with a stiff right.

A man charges Ceaser but he just tosses him out through the already shattered window.

TOOL:

I'll be your server this evening. . .

Tool kicks a table, pinning a man up against the wall, and then proceeds to pepper him with gun fire.

A man comes out of the bathroom and Barney turns to throw a knife right into his chest.

TOOL:

Time to redecorate.

Tool grabs another man and tosses him over the bar.  He then tosses a grenade over the bar.

The man's face widens in terror.

The grenade explodes, frying the bar and scorching the very labels of all the liquor bottles.

Caser turns and blows a couple of guys away with a gun all of his own.

The three men stand in the middle of the room, the bar littered with bullet holes and dead bodies.  Only the model/waitress remains, cowering behind the bar.

BARNEY:

Put it on my tab.

EXT. THE BEAVER BAR - NIGHT


Barney, Ceaser and Tool stand outside of the bar, Tool lighting a cigarette.

BARNEY:

Where are the boys?

CEASER:

Oh they'll be here.

A hummer covered in camouflage paint screeches around a corner.

The sound of the engine alone drowns out even the most bad ass of hard rock.

Hookers from a nearby corner come over and offer the boys blow jobs as they wait for their ride.


Barney Ross takes up one of their offers and receives a blow job.


EXPLOSIONS.


GUN FIRE.


The hummer comes burning rubber around the corner.  Its driven by YING YANG (or maybe Ching Chang?)  Dan Paine, and Toll Road.


The hummer arrives outside of the bar, and all of the boys get inside the car.

BARNEY ROSS:

I told em not to fuck with us.

YING YANG:

What?

BARNEY ROSS:

The Totally Fuckables.

EXPLOSIONS

CUT TO:

The Totally Fuckables title screen.

It gets worst.  There are whole entire scenes where all the women are completely topless, and for no reason other than to show some titty. There was only one scene that included something slightly feminine.  It was a scene that included a hill full of flowers, beautiful and peaceful, but of course they blew it up, turned it wretched and black with ash.

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) this original draft never really made it to the screens.  What we're left with is what you've got now - a still utterly retarded movie full of shitty puns and aging action stars (namely Stallone.)  That is of course, unless you own this copy of the script.

And you don't, because I do.

You should come over and give it a read sometime.

Seriously.

The ten page sex scene in the middle is entirely graphic, yet strangely hilarious.

I would only watch The Expendables if it was intentionally done to be the manliest movie ever. . .  

Like it would have all the chicks wearing bikinis, regardless of the situation, even if they're in an office, or in the middle of fucking nowhere.  The movie soundtrack too, would consist of nothing but ass kicking rock music, and all the songs would have to be either about pussy, killing, or blowing shit up.  In other words, total fucking overkill.

But I hear its kinda like that anyway.

So I wrote myself a phony script and put Sylvester Stallone's name next to the byline.  

Boo-fuckin'-hoo.

So anyway, when this movie finally comes out on HBO, I'm sure I'll watch it a bunch of times, and I'm sure it will live up to everything I've heard about it, and I'm sure with a lot of booze and a lot of smoke, The Expendables will be nothing short of hilarious.

And its for this very reason alone that iR declares The Expendables, epically retarded.

*The only part of an iR thats actually true.

Jean Claude Van Damme was offered a part in The Expendables, but ever since he did JCVD he's gotten all artsy and pompus, and at the time found his proposed character in the movie to be lacking in depth.

Hale Ceaser was originally written for Wesley Snipes.  Snipes said no.  Was rewritten for Forrest Whittaker. Scheduling Conflicts.  Was replaced by 50 Cent (damn that would have been hilarious,) but was then eventually given to Terry Crews.

Steven Seagal was asked to make an appearance, but he was too busy molesting his sex slaves and pretending to save the people of Jefferson Parish, Louisiana on that shit show Lawman.

Kurt Russell was offered a part, to which he replied/bitch slapped stallone: "I'm not into ensemble acting at the moment."

A composer was brought on to do original music for the show, hilarious songs like Scanning the Enemy, and Losing my Mind, and Giant With a Shotgun.

The Expendables has already made 104 million dollars, its budget being 80 million.

Stallone has already stated that he's ready to do a sequel, which is "already plotted out in [his] minds eye."  Although nothing has been put on page yet.

Expendables Official Site

Stallone killed youtubes.

Billy the Exterminator: Epic Retardation

The underbelly of Louisiana is a dirty one.  Its swamps and bogs are home to alligators, bats, rabid raccoons, and venomous snakes.  The very trees are perfect for wasp nests, its practically a death pit for the untrained. . . Luckily the world of vermin has a ferocious natural enemy with 21 years of experience under his belt:  Billy the Exterminator.  This guy:

Criss Angel meets Brett Michaels.  Yes, this guy actually exists and is one of A&E's 'reality' tv show 'stars' . . . The exterminator badge worn like Dog the Bounty Hunter, the cowboy hat, the Matrix glasses, the 'hip' facial hair, the frosted mullet, the black tee with aftermarket spikes attached with matching studded belt. . . everything about this guy screams douche bag.

Tonight's Episode:  Snakes. . . In Waiting. . .

Billy races down an empty Louisiana road, lush vegatation on one side, wretched murky water on the other.  The passenger in his black Tacoma pick up truck is Ricky, his brother and right-hand man.  Ricky, like his brother, shares a similar love for mullets and he and his brother usually get along nicely.  They both even love heavy metal, mostly Twisted Sister.

Suddenly Billy's cellphone lights up.

"Hey ma."  He says.

On the other end, back at the home base, Mom tends to all the calls from potential customers.  She's got big poofy red hair kept up by chemicals and a cheap grin caked with matching red-orange lipstick.  She's got ice blue eyes and is about as dumb as one can be.

"Yeah hon!  We-we just got a-a-"  She's horrible at reading her lines.  "A call from a crematorium place, 'bout a snake - you gotta get there right away!  Right away!"

"Yeah ok ma."

" . . . Remember now," she says.  "Don't get bit!"

Billy hangs up the phone and scoffs.

"I don't know what mom is worried about (yeah you got them sick shoulder spikes to protect you) like. . ."  He throws up his arms as if he were suddenly frightened.  "Oh God!  Gotta get down there lickety split!  you know?"

Ricky nods and smirks.  Ricky aint big on words. . .

"Prolly just some snake got in there. . . It did storm yesterday.  You know how they like to move indoors when its cold and wet out."  He pauses, giving the viewer ample time to register the wisdom he just imparted; cold bad - he strokes his soul patch - heat good.

At the job Ricky and billy take to the building and utilize long sticks and tongs to poke and prod everything in their search of the snake.  Its a sweeping tactic Billy developed when he was a hired exterminator for the United States Air Force.  Aside from prodding around billy is also wise enough to get on all fours to peek under a cabinet elevated by its wheels, and if he didn't feel vulnerable enough, he decides to turn and focus his attention on his brother Ricky so that he may once again mention how dangerous venomous snakes can be and how this meant one must always be alert and cautious. . . Any second now the bastard is gonna get it, just you wait and see. . . Any second now. . . After a sweep of the area, no snake is found, but Billy, with his keen expert eyes spots out a grate near the ground unprotected.

"Yeah, snake definitely got in here.  He opened it to show how easy it must have been.  "Definitely, no grating on the outside.  Nothing. . ."  

"Snake!"  Ricky shouts and the two take off like they had just spotted a freshly thrown grenade.  All the tough talk, out the window like so much fresh air.

Ricky, Billy's brother and best bud.  According to the Vexcon website, Ricky "has proven that being an exterminator can be an act of patriotism."  God-damn terrorist mosquitoes.  Aside from being a true patriot, Ricky is also considered to be a "heart-throb" amongst strange sects of human deformity unknown to city folk and native Louisianians foreign to the deep pockets of the thickest swamps found in the area.

After a change of pants and a recooping period involving lots of Heavy Metal--to get into the mood--the boys are back in the location with a well developed plan on how to bag this particular ornery snake.

"What you gotta do is quite simple.  You gotta stuff him in a bucket." 

The bucket comes out, Ricky tight on the bucket.  He's the bucket man, ready to put the lid on the second the snake gets stuffed.  Billy, he's the stuffer, he's got a long set of tongs with an iron like grip he uses to pick up angry snakes with.  The particular rattler to be caught has been cornered, and Billy spears him with the tongs and the snake lashes out with venomous fangs dripping and wet.  A camera on the tongs shows all the close up action, and the snake fights just like a fish snagged by a hook.  The boys are tense, you can tell.  Sweat graces their brows, drips from their mullets, leaving trails like snails, greasy and the smell of hair gel and sweat.

They bark orders at one another.

The boys are tense, you can tell.

The snake is pissed, you can tell.

And so the snake is put in the bucket and the top is put on and the boys go to whooping and hollering.  They are red and sweaty and happy.  They grin like cats and spy their recently caught foe.

And that is it.  The viewer is like 'wtf.'

The show isn't particularly exciting because none of the adrenaline comes when watching someone else face the idea of death - its not even like you're scared these guys might bet bit - you hope for it.  You want them to get bit, and the show of course never comes through in that regard.  All 'exterminations' are successful.  Its main character dresses like an imbecile, he's all heavy metal but he's as soft as a midday candy bar.  What if you went to work like that?  Certainly you'd be laughed at - so why does he get to dress like Motely Crue?  How does a man with Master have the balls to dress like a bike dyke?

Clearly theres retardation of epic proportions involved.  How else could one explain this Bretherton Family holiday card?

And they wonder why nobody comes over for the holidays.

Though one can easily applaud this man for his unprecedented humanity in the field of rodent and pest removal, no one, no one, can ever forgive him for that horrible mullet.  The only real reason to watch the show is to try and spot his customers trying not to laugh right in his face.  You can see it, a slight smile hidden under a stern and serious face.  The corners of the mouth always slightly upturned, as if at any moment the client will lose control and burst out laughing.

And they have every right to, in my opinion.

It is for these reasons, along with his horrible wardrobe that iR declares Billy the Exterminator, epically retarded.

Further Retardation

Billy Bretherton has a Masters Degree from LSU in Termite/Pest Control

Billy carries with him a certain philosophy of life all of his own, and has been reported to say "education never stops as I grown in my job and my life."

Billy is a prominent guest speaker who's speech includes "scary/fun/bizarre" stories about the extermination business and his time filming for A&E, his understanding of nature - "mean but green" and the intricacies of the extermination business. . . His schedule is currently wide open.

Billy's extermination company is family owned and operated, it is called Vexcon.

Billy's outfit is actually sold on the Vexcon website:

• Vexcon cowboy hat: 36 dollars
• Vexcon studded fingerless leather gloves: 24 dollars
• Vexcon tee: 25 dollars
• Vexcon spiked studded leather belt: 59 dollars
• Vexcon studded wristband: 49 dollars
• Vexcon sunglasses: 28 dollars

Grand total: 224 dollars. . . looking like a d-bag has never cost so much.

Billy the Exterminator is produced by September Films, who's body of work includes such trash as The Pregnant Man, 650 lb Virgin, Boys Joined at The Head, and Bridezillas.

For more retardation feel free to visit Billy the Exterminator at his website on aetv.com or vist the Vexcon company website itself at Vexconinc.com

iR