The Big Smoke

 Fucking Sweat Suits, Man. Sweat Suits!!

Part of my 100th Best Movies in History Series

First off - How the fuck do your parents and husband not notice you smoke? Do you know when my mom found out I smoked? About a day or two after I started smoking. And it’s not because I lit a smoke in front of her - cigarettes make you smell. Smell like smoke, you ignorant fucker. And ask a non-smoker what it’s like to kiss someone who smokes. According to all the non-smokers I’ve kissed, "Waaaaa! Bitch Bitch Bitch!"

I’ve got this theory that you could take the shittiest movie, put Bill Murray in it, and it would be fucking classic. Have you ever seen ‘The Man who Knew Too Little’? Or ‘Ghostbusters II’. Those were fucking awful for the most part, but Bill Murray turned them into gold. Hell, most Bill Murray movies are a painful exercise in waiting for the Bill Murray parts. 

The best example of this is that turd Rushmore. Jesus Christ that was a shitty movie. It was a stupid story with stupid dialogue and stupid directing and the most annoying fucking kid I’ve ever been aware of. Jesus Christ you don’t put annoying ugly people on film - we watch movies to escape from people like that. Humanity fucking crawls with them like lice. But, it was still one of the funniest, most thought provoking movies ever. And it wasn’t Wes Anderson’s genius, goddamnit. It was Bill Murray doing what he does best - salvaging a turd.

There’s a weird enigma with Wes: the critics love this guy, but he makes, you know, comedies. Aren’t you intellectuals supposed to scorn comedy because it represents the moral decay of culture or something?

That brings up a good question, intellectuals: What are we supposed to hate when we’re smart? Borgois or Proletariats? Because you seem to hate both, and I don’t even think there is nobility anymore so I’m pretty sure that means you hate everyone. Except apparently yourself. Get a load of this shit:

"Filmmaker Martin Scorsese is a fan of Anderson’s, praising Bottle Rocket and Rushmore and calling Anderson "the next Scorsese" in an Esquire magazine article."

What the fuck is that shit? Have I fucking gone insane or did he actually say that shit? In brown-nose light-sell Esquire no less. Jesus fucking Christ.

Scorsese, you make some OK movies, but fucking seriously. What the fuck is that shit? You need to stop hanging out with all the ass-kisses who call you a genius, or you’re just going to keep making fucking half-assed turds like Departed. What kind of bizarre fucked up suck-up world of delusion do you have to live in by giving a "compliment" like that?


Ugly Sexy - Wes made Morticia Adams way uglier and older than she need to be. And Cameron Diaz, or whoever ‘boring blond pointless love interest’ was, some advice: flat and emotionless is definitely the way to deliver all your lines, it makes your character ‘edgy’ not ‘talentlessly underdeveloped by a shitty actress with fake boobs’.

Anti-Man Violence - Thanklessly absent from a movie that lays it on pretty thick to tries and seem smart.

Rock and Roll - Actually a pretty fucking good soundtrack for old songs. They even manage to stick in some Rolling Stones songs that haven’t been shoved down my throat my entire life. You know, Scorsese, he’s not the next you, he’s more talented. He can actually stick a Rolling Stones song in his movie that’s not from their abridged greatest-of. Believe it or not, there are more than fucking ten Rolling Stones Songs to put in your fucking movie.

Rotten Tomatoes Pull-Quote - You V and you ^ stop kissing Scorsese’s shark-jumped ass. I don’t wanna sit through another fucking Departed.

 

My Broken Dreams (pictured), Shattered By Mediocre Lists

I have something to confess to you, internet: I love lists. I love them like my fucking mother. I know that’s not as shocking an internet confession as you might find on a Calvin and Hobbes porn site, but bear with me here.

Because my love of lists has more to do with libido than quality, your list doesn’t have to be that good to interest me, but fuck, some lists out there are totally pretentious bullshit. The point of a list is to be meaningful in some way, not to prove to me what a stuck-up shithead you are.I’m not going to respect you if you make a list of your favourite fruits, and list ‘cantaloupe’ over ‘blueberry’. It makes me think you’re a fucking asshole, not some genius who loves the unappreciated joys of life.

 

That’s why it’s dissapointing to me that every show about lists is total crap: So much wasted potential. I’ve seen one too many lists shows involving The American Film Institute, Rolling Stone Magazine and VH1 to ever trust the TV for my lists again.

Why the fuck are sixty year-old baby-boomers so fucking narscisistic? Like, if I believed TV, that’s the fucking gerneration that literally represents the peak of human existence. Jesus Christ, you nostalgic cunts, stop talking about your high and mighty collective ideals. Sure, my generation might not have come up with any song as meaningful as ‘Keep on Truckin’ (YEAH! Keep on truckin’: how much fucking mush do you have to eat before that shit becomes meaningful to your generation?) or any movie as deeply insightful as Easy Rider (in which rebelliously long hair and motorcycles on film seriously came this close || to bringing down THE MAN), but Jesus Christ stop pretending like evevery fucking person your age is a super-genius bent on taking down the system.

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Armed with Only his VHS of ‘Steal this Movie’, his bootleg of the The Who reunion tour (featuring the two remaining members of the band), a pudding spoon and a dream, this typical baby-boomer (pictured) lives and dies to fight the Rock and Roll war against conformity.

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What really shits me about the whole thing is that these post-middle aged people who watch VH1 think that they’re still fighting the establishment. Fucking how? By sitting on your ass and listening to music and watching movies all day? You know, in history class we learned about these big peasant rebellions, where people would grab fucking pitchforks, and, later, guns and fucking kill the fuck out of anything they see. That’s a fucking rebellion: Killing and expecting to be killed. Watching TV is not fucking rebelling, especially if you’re watching VH1 documentaries about music that came out fourty-odd years ago.

Hey, fuckheads, get a load of this: The last person to be honestly offended by watching Elvis dance died decades ago.

Don’t tell me listening to Mick Jagger and Bob Dylan is fighting the man. All those old dudes are living in fucking multiple mansions right now. Call me a rebellion purist, but typically the goal of a rebellion is to kill people who live in multiple mansions, not listen to them over and over again.

And what the hell is the meaning of rebellion in music anyway? Every style of music is called rebellious nowadays, from rock, to country, to techno to (thanks to VH1) Adult contemporary. Has it ever occurred to you that in a society where everyone considers themselves a Rebel, it’s pretty hard to find anything to rebel against? rebelling against other rebels isn’t fucking cool, it’s retarded.

Here’s one thing about the purity of your generation’s great ideals, you geriatric Rolling Stone Magazine cuntwads: When my generation doesn’t like a war, they still are curtious enough to spout out meaningless phrases like "We Still Support the Troops". When your generation doesn’t like a war, you spit at fucking vets in wheelchairs who were drafted in the first place. Is spitting at people in wheelchairs the perfect hippy society you were trying to create? Is hurting people in wheelchairs the motherfucking high ideals that VH1 always blabs on about?

Fuck you, baby-boomers. I prefer my "unenlightened" Generation which doesn’t fucking spit at cripples.

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So, if TV wont offer me a best-of list which doesn’t primarily focus on heads up asses, I’m making my own damned list of the 100 greatest movies of history. As a history major, I am qualified to do that. No pretentious arthouse crap, no fighting the man. No fucking hypocrite 90-year old hippies. Just pure good movies, start to finish.

Try and follow my train of thought here: I figured I’d need a standardized way of rating these movies, but when movies get this damned good, one to ten stars just can’t do it, so I’ve decided not to rate them on how good they are, but on how much they don’t suck. And who is the world expert on suck? Rolling Stone Magazine. And what is Rolling Stone Magazine’s Highest ideal? Sex and Violence and Rock and Roll. Specifically:

Ugly Sex - When you take a lot of drugs, or are an ugly film director who spent most of their life reading books about lenses, you’ve probably never met a woman, even if you are one. I look at AFIs top hundred, and I see a fucking hundred Angelina Jolies: Ugly but with boobs, and they act like they’re fucking retarded, or as movie makers prefer to call it "free spirits". Yeah, that’s what I thought was hot when I was 15 but then I met some girls and realized big-tittied girls with free spirits are annoying as hell, and usually fucking psychoes.

Violence - Specifically, FIGHTING THE MAN. 

Rock and Roll - You’ll notice every AFI list manages to include every fucking Scorcese movie ever made. Why? Because Scorsese scores every fucking movie of his with whatever was playing on the local classic Rock station at the time.

Hey, Scorcese, I might not be a genius visionary or anything, but does every fucking movie you make have to have the song ‘Gimme Shelter’? I’ll admit that was a pretty good song, but Jesus Christ does it have to be in every fucking movie? In what fucked up dislogic reality is repeating someone else’s song for thirty years "genius", and do local DJs "Monkey" Mike and the Monkey Crew on local radio station "Classic Rock 106.1" qualify?

I think the low point in Scorcese’s career was having the intense, climax, car-chase scene in Goodfellas backed by the slow-ass George Harrison love ballad. That music is already doing well as the damned background for elevators and supermarkets, for the sole reason that it’s easy to ignore and not disruptive.

Maybe before interesting was invented, acoustic love ballads really got your andrenaline pumping, but fuck, we’ve fucking progressed. I guess if I was old enough to find hippy love songs appropriate for a tough-ass car chase, I’d be too old to listen to anything else without having a stroke anyway.

Just to prove how razor-sharp and effective my ratings system is, I’ll use it to rate The Worst Movie of All Time:

 

 
Ugly Sex - There’s lots of nudity in this movie, but it about what you’d expect from an elderly man who is afraid of vagina.

Anti-the man violence - Ponder this for fucked up: The protagonist, the good guy, is oppressed by the oppression system. And why is he a good guy? He found out his wife did a porn before they met and so he kills her, but society forbids it. AWW POOR GUY. If that’s your rebellions dream of a perfect future, you’ve got some nice high ideals asshole.

You know what. If my girlfriend did a porn, like, last night, that might convince me to, you know, break up with her. I might be mad enough to contemplate killing her, but I wouldn’t, because I’m not a fucking psycho. You can get mad at a girl for shit like that, but you don’t fucking kill her.

But if my girlfriend did a porn, like, ten years ago before we even met, I’d be creeped out, maybe even disgusted, but my mind isn’t fucked up enough to even consider killing her. You know what? We all have our dirty secrets that are best left in the past. If you think every woman you go with should be a pure-as-snow virgin, you’re living in crazy land where the murderers are the victims.

Is that rebelling? If so, than I’m sorry, I can’t follow your woman-killing pussy-fearing rebellion. If it’s unenlighted of me to think that murder is worse than sex, and that wife-killers are poor, oppressed saints, then slap me in a sweater and an SUV because I’m the biggot preventing your perfect utopia.

Rock and Roll - This movie starts us off with a nice face-full of avant guard fucking jazz. I’m not talking about the smooth Coltrane shit which is tolerable. I’m talking about nails on chalkboards. This is the kind of music 17 year-olds play to sound hip when in reality they can’t play their fucking instruments. But that’s not so bad.

Towards the end of the movie, when the director runs out of ideas to steal, the movie drops it’s pretencions of ever having had a plot and the whole thing turns into a fucking impressionistic rock video for NIN and Marilyn Manson and Ramstein. Who the fuck are you rebelling against by the way? The kind of crazy cooks who get offended by Marilyn Manson are pretty rare, and I’ve never seen one in person, because they all live in rural Colorado. However, I have seen about a million kids with slashed-up wrists and NIN t-shirts in person. When millions of upper-middle-class kids are offending a couple of poor people in trailers, guess who the rebel is? The large crowd of rich people or the two or three poor people? Guess!!!

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So you know, movies, new feature. Check back frequently!!! List to come!!!