Pop Culture Blog: Music, Movie and Humor

Leveraging low-hanging synergies outside the vertical fruit box since 1999.

Search Results for: davepye

Britney, It’s Probably Too Late For You.


in Musical

That doesn’t change the fact that I’m extremely pleased you’ve kicked that fucking pariah out of your house and filed for divorce. I bemoaned your sad transformation a year or so ago, and you were truly the last to know that this would end in tears. As far as your career goes, you just don’t bounce back on the sexy meter after pumping out two dirtbag-descendants.

My older post covers most of the basics, so I’ll stick to my hopes for Britney’s future. Thanks to VH1, you’re always going to have a job, baby. Whether you’re on top of the charts, or a giant electronic scale – that’s still show business. If Flava can make a celebreality comeback, then so can you. Just please make sure that at no time Flava comes on your back. Cause that’s probably the only thing on this planet that’s worse than having your baggage lined with Feder.

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How Sweet It Was. Bitch.


in Reminiscent

I have touched upon how much I think new rap sucks before. I have also asked myself the question “Am I just old now?” Perhaps I’m just following a cycle, the way my Grandmother must have looked down her nose at my mother’s Elvis ’45 collection. The odd modern rap song (I like Clipse a lot) will turn my head, but en masse – compared to how much I loved it circa 86 to 94 – it’s just awful. Look at my car, check out this tacky spinning crap rim I tacked on to my wheel, Look at my diamond plated necklace which also looks like the wheel of my car, look at the ass on this girl, listen to the blippedy beep I made on a synthesizer in 2 minutes.” Ya feel me?

I am not saying that these themes haven’t been prevalent since the days of the Treacherous Three. I’m implying it’s all anybody bloody talks about now. Sure there are the Talib Kwelis and the like who opt for message – but they are few, far between and rarely on the charts anywhere. And by old school, I am not referring to pre-1988 but all the way up to the mid-nineties. The golden-age of rap occured, for me, about the summer of 92 and then dropped off sharply when Biggie died. You can almost trace it back to the month.

My thoughts are on this today because I watched the VH1 Hip Hop Legends Awards on Sunday night and thoroughly enjoyed the shiznit out of it. The way it works, is 6 seminal rappers are picked to join the legend ranks. Then, after a “Story of…” video is played on the big screen, a medley of that artists’ songs is performed by current rappers, often with the honored artist themself joining in at the end. It was really well done – Beastie Boys songs were performed by Q-Tip, Fabolous and Diddy before they joined in at the end. Rakim was honored and performed as did MC Lyte, Ice Cube and Wu Tang. Segments were punctuated by great old songs by EPMD, Das Efx and the like. It made me wonder what the phunk happened.

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The Reviews Are Trickling In. And It Doesn’t Suck.


in Television

Trailer Park Boys: The Movie is set to become the top-grossing Canadian film of all time. And if that doesn’t happen, it will at least eclipse the current canon of FUBAR, Porky’s and Strange Brew as the most internationally accessible piece of Canadian celluloid out there. With Ivan Reitman (you may have heard of Ghostbusters) producing, Clatterburg’s motley crew of guttersnipes is poised for an accompanying distribution deal of the 7 seasons of hilarious TV shows. They are currently talking to three major networks – including Showtime. The stipulation so far has been that it has to be sold somewhere on cable so they don’t have to edit out all the swearing, which is why many feel it didn’t fare better on BBC America 2 years ago. Bleeps just aren’t as funny as creative lines like: “Knock knock, Who’s there? Fuck off“, obviously.


The soundtrack they’ve put together is impressive, and should make a mint all by itself. And, like on the TV show, Canadian musician cameos are in full-effect. “two already avowed Trailer Park fans, Rush’s Alex Lifeson and the Tragically Hip’s Gord Downie — unrecognizable beneath cheesy moustaches — as a couple of gung-ho cops.” That is definitely worth the price of a ticket right there. I will post reviews as I find them over the weekend. Things are looking good so far, and don’t think there aren’t critics in Canada who’d love to see this movie fail. These reviews will be fair.

Toronto Star: *** – There is even time for a little character development — actual, almost heartwarming romance, even.

Ottawa Citizen: *** – The dignity is the surprise in Trailer Park Boys … most of the time. Julian is the large man who carries a constant glass of rum-and-Coke, even when he goes to the bar (“I brought this from home,” he explains).

Globe and Mail: ** 1/2 – Where it works, brilliantly on occasion, is at the edges (the best lines arrive as tossed-off asides) and in the performances of a cast who have lived with these characters long enough to capture them intimately, and to convey their strange blend of weirdness and familiarity.

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Who Departed?


in Movies

I have been looking for an opportunity to remark upon how much I am truly looking forward to finally getting to see The Departed this weekend. Eager for early insider movie-nerd reviews (I’d only ever be able to pen an outsider movie-nerd review,) I found this. Holy South Boston scumbags, Batman.

“I usually only get dirty when I hate a movie so much, it makes me mad enough to do so. This is not the case with the latest Martin Scorsese masterwork The Departed. Oh no. Holy motherfucking shit, this movie rocks 18 different sizes and shapes of balls. Balls were rocked so hard, in fact, I think certain areas of the taint may have been injured. I walked out of this movie stumbling from exhaustion and with an awesome sense of uncertainty. How was I going to do this film justice in a review? Maybe I just did.”

Well done Marty. I can’t wait.

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Monday’s Quotelet: Squid Pro Quo.


in
University of Missouri professor Toshihiko Ezashi could hardly contain himself when breaking news of his latest stem cell discovery. They taste absolutely fantastic with crab rangoons.
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Friday’s Quizzlet: Here At The Herb.


in Monday's Quotelet

Appetizer: What is your favorite herb or spice?
My favorite Herb is Drummond.

Soup: Name a song you like but haven’t heard in a long time.
I have been looking for the entire Here at the Home album by an old Boston band called Tribe for a while now. It is out of print, and I can’t find any of the MP3s either. A lot of the songs were re-recorded and released on an album called “Abort” a couple years later, but the HATH versions are far superior. If you happen across this, and you have the record, please put me out of my misery.

Salad: Write down everything you need to do. How many tasks are there?
Like I mentioned here recently, I need a readily accessible notebook to keep my life in some degree of order. I have pages and pages of bullets that I cross off with a highlighter when completed. If I lost my beloved notebook, it would be tantamount to Henry Jones Sr. losing the Grail Diary. Without first getting to sleep with the hot Nazi.

Main Course: Tell something interesting about one of your family members.
My first cousin, Reiner, lives in Spain with a Brazilian woman. That just sounds delightful. R-Man, does she have a sister? A brother, even. Hell, if I were in Spain technically I’d be on vacation. And what happens on vacation, stays on vacation. Especially if it’s kind of gay.

Dessert: What’s the latest you’ve ever stayed awake?
All damn night, obviously. I remember the first time I watched the sun come up. I was about 8 and we were at a party on Prince Edward Island. My parents were inside getting liquored up, and all us kids were outside on one of the famous red sand roads daring eachother to let fireworks explode in our hands. Yes, exceptional parenting on PEI.

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Amy & Jason’s Stag & Doe.


in Heartwarming

I’ve just posted the photos from last weekend’s brouhaha at the illustrious Welland Soccer club. You’ll also see a few photos from the Friday – with peelers apparent and a few choice stills from Chopper’s garage. More explication to come.

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The Reluctant Matchmaker.


in

Congratulations to my friends Emily and Nick who got engaged last night – and that brings me rocketing into a post I’ve been meaning to write for a while. I seem to have developed a knack for setting people up, or at least being a peripheral catalyst in them getting together.

Nick and Emily are both former roomates of mine. Meredith and Seamus, also a building related connection, are getting married in June. Neither of those introductions were facilitated for the purposes of dating, though. I am a non-deliberate matchmaker. You could sell me a hot dog in Faneuil Hall next weekend and then probably meet the woman of your dreams in line behind me. Granted she’d be slathering mustard all over a footlong and drooling after 3 shots of Jaeger at Ned Devine’s, but Cupid doesn’t worry about overserving.

We’re talking about marriages here, not dating, which is why I thought it worthy of note. I don’t like to introduce people, because I’ve seen it go so horribly wrong many times in the past. The worst is when someone sets you up with a complete ditch pig because you’re then forced to ask yourself why the mutual friend went so far out of their way to connect the two of you. Is this what they think your league is? “Not to be a dick, but your friend has ridges on her back and I think I see a tail poking through in the back. Either that, or she’s crapped herself“. And then you get a little offended/hurt/a condom.

So I stay away from it. But if you want to meet that someone special come hang out in my orbit for awhile. I seem to have some sort of accidedntal magic power. And obviously the other major dating bulletpoint to take away from this is don’t crap yourself in line at the hot dog stand outside of Ned Devine’s.

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