Gary Boozy

It appears to me that with these Drunk History videos, the humour lies in the person rather then the tale; as those witty t shirts say, 'beauty is in the eye of the beer holder' (will those such t shirts ever stop just being so funny right now! Stitches!). The best and therefore funniest bits were the cranberry spill and the sophisticated way the large man began his recounting of Glen Johnson, or whoever. Drunkz iz funny, yeah? Not all the time though; we've all shirked the sexy looks of the beer-for-breakfast-beer-for-lunch-smelling tramp on the bus. That aside though, to me it seems the real stories these renditions are based on are pretty hilarious anyway. Glen Michaels and electric key business to me seem lame, frilly, fairy tale Grimm's fantasy (it appears now I've decided in every one of my own blogposts to lightly mock American History). I need to ask you, Tiffany- did that key thing actually happen? Really? Drunk History works because they're drunk. Think of it like this; imagine a sober man telling you about this particular highlight in British social history.
(props also for George Michael for the when he gets out his mobile phone to tell his friends about his pledge).
On my own pop culture radar this week was me being hunted down by a civilian on Carnaby Street for an interview (translation: some work experience guy from a radio station no one listens to wanted a vox pop from me. It wouldn't have surprised me if it was just him doing his homework or something. I was on Carnaby Street though- it was just a shame it was Carnaby Street 2008 then Carnaby Street 1966, really.). He turned on his microphone and asked me straightaway "what's the word on the street?". Wha'? It's a hard question to answer, especially since I'm by no means a baller in 1992 and because there is so many things you can say to that question. My answer, you ask? I spurted out genuinely the first thing that came into my head- or rather, my eyeline: "Puff ball skirts". It was the first time I had ever said the word(s) 'puff ball skirts' yet it was all anybody was talking about on my cerebral street upstairs ("women crying" would have been the perfect answer! If only...). Not a day goes by when I don't wish I could Biff Tannen that one. Thinking about it in the time since (and not 'puff ball skirts' as you might not expect), it appears that this here blog is the perfect space to do it. So...
"What's the word on the streets?"
"Meat. Meat is the word on the streets. I'm sick of people thinking it's cool and eco-friendly to be all vegetarian and eat hummus. Only 2 years ago, hummus was served in restaurants with an apology. Now, it's like they're sending hummus to the moon with a copy of Thriller to show extra terrestrial life what humans are like. Meat is coming back. Any girl who doesn't like a banger in the mouth is a dirty liar"
Makes me wish I had a coach in how to interview, really...
Oh, what, like P Diddy, you mean?
I only wish I could have found the video clip of his interview I saw on MTV today. Now, this section of the post comes very close to becoming a trashy celeb blog, which it may well one day become. Who knows? The interview is basically transcribed here, but the sight of seeing the P the D the I the D the D the Y flummoxing in this interview was ridiculous. He said he's currently in Cannes as part of his 'future movie-star in training' regime. Is there une Stanislvaski ecolé on the plage or something? Erm, no. P Diddy is instead observing the great ones- Brad Pitt, Clint Eastwood, Gwyneth Paltrow- and how they deal with interviews on the red carpet. Bright spark that he is, he notices that "they are always breathing. They're not rushing". But the way Diddy said it on TV, it was more like he was saying "they're not Russian". If P 'Detective' Diddy just about noticed that they're breathing, I give him credit for spying out they're not former Soviets. I wonder, what could his first major film role be? By the sound of things, hopefully it could be a remake of the hit espionage comedies "Spies Like Us", or "The Man With One Red Shoe" (maybe The Man with One Red 'Ice Cream'? Boy, this cutting edge is hard to stand on, let me tell you...)

For a moment there I forgot that Gary Busey was in Lethal Weapon

Mr. Joshua, oh man. What a ridiculous name. This is all of course in reference to Rob’s LW clip closing the last post, which, I have to admit, is more hysterical than I expected. I choked on my coffee at 1:32. So far what is funniest is the comments below the video clip – which for the most part actually seem to be REALISTICALLY dissecting Gibson’s use of the “textbook triangle choke” [even though he forgot to hook his ankle! The amateur!]

It’s May, and it’s a rainy terrible day that’s only TUESDAY instead of being an awesome sunny weekend May Saturday or something. Right now I am lacking the energy for witticism but am also recognizing that it’s my turn to wax poetic on a meaningful/less pop culture subject - so forgive me if this lacks the appropriate fortitude of convergence… but these videos recently made a resurgence in my daily “sending people funny links on facebook” routine because there's a new one I hadn't seen AND all of them never CEASE to be wildly hilarious. [I suppose the convergence of imagery here miiiight be that my original idea for a header for this blog was a 90’s style DJ-MC homage to Ben Franklin and Winston Churchill a ‘la me being from Philadelphia and Robbo being from London… and two of these vids are about Ben Franklin… err..]

ANYWAY, what I’m curious to know is, how much does the American historical slant play into the laughs? Or maybe, what is the humor ratio of a drunk person telling a story about specific historical occurrences, versus a drunk person trying to tell a story about anything? [i.e. Mr. Rob “Union Jack” D., is this as funny for you as it is for me? Or does it lack the multifaceted humor reference of Aaron Burr, that sawnbetch, and that wily Ben Franklin?]

Drunk History Volume 1

Drunk History Volume 2

Drunk History Volume 2.5 [my current fave! though a bit coarse in language...]

She hums it, I sing it

Decending the illuminated staircase in this Showcase Showdown of a blog is me, good old Roberto. Perhaps the weaker part of the convergences duo; you might say the Milli to Vanilli, the Robin to Batman. An example of this is my suggestions for topics to write about on this here blog, one which was my experiences of 'women crying'. Tiffany never did get back to me about that, so it's perhaps something for you all to look forward to in the future (!)
Nevermind that though, as this past week I found myself watching National Treasure on television, starring... Nicolas Cage. Yet, the next day, with no way of her knowing that I watched Nicolas Cage in action the previous day, Tiffany writes about... Nicolas Cage. One might call that a 'convergence' (although no guarantees). That's how we roll.

Now, I think she was pretty harsh to criticise Nicolas Cage in the film in question. He was okay it in- but, really, he could have only been 'okay', as though-out the film he was constantly being overshadowed by the incredible real life historical facts I understand the film was based upon. It was true, in case you didn't know; The Declaration of Independence does indeed have a secret message on the back of it- 'it' being the treatment for the film National Treasure.
Having also put on the back there the treatments for Weekend at Bernie's and Look Who's Talking, the founding fathers of America were early fans of the high concept comedy, and the guys served as early inspiration for the movie industry-based TV show Entourage.

Is that the truth? It all probably might not be, but I can concretely reveal to you now that I have had first-hand experience that Nat Treas could have been entirely based on fact. I was lucky enough to visit Philadelphia a couple of years ago and I, like Nicolas Cage, saw the shadow cast by the top spire of Independence Hall- in the shape of a giant 'X'.
Now in the film, this signifies to Nicolas Cage the location of a special pair of glasses that enable him to read the intricate design on the back of the Declaration (the Look Who's Talking treatment). I was unaware of this phenomena having never seen Natl Treas before then, but never-the-less I did notice that this particular 'convergence' could carry some sort of significance. Only moments later I did work out what the significance meant; as the giant 'X' appeared in shadow over the front doors of the Liberty Bell Centre, it appeared to deliver some sort of mysterious sign- a lot like the 'X' motif in Howard Hawks's Scarface. The sign was there purely to warn people not to go in to what could be the most uninteresting exhibition probably in the history of the world. There's a bell. And it's got a crack in it 'cos it's old. Oh, and that thing it was famous for, the ringing out the victory over the British? Yeah, well..., that never happened. It was different bell. Jeffo might have leant up against this bell here, perhaps on a hot day to mop his brow as he was hot and a bit flustered. At some point. Maybe.

So, as I said, the weaker part of the 'convergences' duo. I've rambled on, and it also appears trampled on an item of great historical significance and haven't really said anything remotely related to the previous post.
What I will say though is that I too care and consider perhaps too much for the particular actors Tiffany mentions. I'm not lying to you when I say that lot of the time I wish I was George Clooney, particularly his character of Dr Doug Ross in the hit TV show ER. I admire the way he was a 'real cool guy' in the show and always knew what to say- which is the polar opposite to me, a quivering wreck of a man, who gives off more then just a suggestion that because his arms and legs are so far away from his brain, there must often occur some sort of 'time delay' in ordering them to do things. To counteract this, I have recently bought some sunglasses that I am very proud of as they are similar to the ones Roger Thornhill wore and so hopefully projecting some coolness onto me when I wear them (for all the non film buffs, Roger Thornhill is Cary Grant's character in North By Northwest... there you go, dear!). Now, Nicolas Cage's humanitarian-esque approach to filmmaking can be explained by probably the thing that has had most baring on his career- cocaine. He's the Chevy Chase of the nineties. Leaving Las Vegas and Face/off were some of his best (?) performances, and looking at the research I have conducted, this era coincides with various peaks and troughs in the street value of power powder, sending him out of his mind but turning him into the wide-eyed, maniacal energyball he is in those films. Now that Ghost Rider grossed all that money, his addiction is probably under control and explains his more languid performances in front of the camera these days... hence Nat Treas. Finally, I have great affinity also for Mel Gibson (like a medal of honour, I constantly remind Tiffany I have seen What Women Want around-about 5 times and it's not because of Helen Hunt). Conversely, I happen to like Mel Gibson upto and including his mental, off-his-face rant; well, at least until the 'sugertits' section of it. Anything surrounding that I fully don't condone. But sugertits? Come on- it's the petname all women love! (despite the five times, it appears the message of What Women Want is yet to sink in). As much as Tiffany urges you to look at the most excellent miniature ponies link previously, I urge you as much to watch this video and fully understand my riff on Mel Gibs, for this is perhaps the greatest wet t-shirt scene ("do ya'd like a shot at the world title?") ever to be committed -definitely to YouTube, probably to celluloid. Specifically the moment at 2.42; the way he growls "NO" is hilarious. That is acting.

He’s the DJ, I’m the Rapper

Itttt’ssssss Tiffany! Isn’t this neat? I think so. Though I DO feel somewhat inferior as a student of film [“student of film” actually meaning that I half-assededly took a smattering of film courses in my college years] who didn’t peg the Hitchcock-homage header… ESPECIALLY since that flick is like THE textbook example for anything anyone has ever needed to learn about filmmaking ever, at least according to any introductory level textbook. I swear I’ve had to take notes on Alfie’s storyboards for that crop duster scene approximately 18 times.

And now for the convergence: in a recent correspondence, Robbo brought up the film What Women Want starring Mel Gibson. I’ve always liked that movie more than I think I should [much like Major League, or The Wedding Planner… no, now that I come to think of it, The Wedding Planner is pretty inexcusable] – but anyhow, it got me to thinking about the charm of Mel Gibson [Pre- controversial anti-Semitic ranting Mel Gibson, of course]. I’ve always kind of thought that Mel Gibson’s schtick was a huge rip-off of Cary Grant. The same goes for George Clooney, actually. Have you ever noticed this? That whole debonair, slightly befuddled, grinning sort-of-a-jackass who’s actually a sweetheart underneath it all demeanor… I just think they should give credit where credit’s due, you know? Kind of like how I should be getting my rightful props for re-popularizing miniature ponies. [Please click that link. I found it when legitimately looking for some mini pony stuff—I don’t speak any Russian[?] but as far as I can tell it has nothing to do with little horses and everything to do with the greatest amassing of inexplicable photos mine eyes has ever seen. Am I missing something here?]

I’ve gotten to thinking now about movies and actors that I like more than I should, as a reasonably responsible consumer of arts and culture. The first one that comes to mind is Nicolas Cage, who I have defended tirelessly [Adaptation! Raising Arizona! Moonstruck!] against some pretty rightful criticism [Wicker Man! Ghost Rider! National Treasure!]. I read a cracked.com list that I think summed him up pretty well: “Nicolas Cage seems to be conducting some kind of experiment, wherein he intentionally takes only the best and worst projects offered to him, and absolutely nothing in between.” On the surface this seems entirely apt, but at the same time, I would tend to offer the Con Air Counterpoint, which states that Nicolas Cage possesses a supernatural power to make ridiculous movies [Con Air, Valley Girl, Amos & Andrew, The Rock, etc.] into really likeable, always watchable fare.

Perhaps Cage is actually a covert humanitarian, who takes on bad projects just so he can redeem them into, if nothing else, ideal early afternoon weekend movies, when you’ve got nothing to do but sit in your jammies with some cereal, nursing a hangover or whathaveyou with an easily-understandable comedy or action thriller. And maybe, just maybe, this is how we’ll start to see movies like National Treasure in a few years. Ooorrr maybe he’s just losing his magic touch…