Fin Tutuola vs. DuShawn McGovern: the Most Memed Segment in Law & Order: SVU History Gets a New Spin

 

Ed from Ed, Edd, n' Eddy vs. Chuck Schumer a.k.a. the Reason Corporate Centrism Is Dogshit

 

Jerry Seinfeld: Living Proof That Not All Dinosaurs Were Wiped Out

 

Larry David vs. Waldo: Blending in with the Crowd Isn't the Flex You Think It Is

 

Rhea Ripley vs. Chris Morgan: When Bagel Boss Makes You Their Bagel Bitch

 

Joey Styles vs. John Bradshaw Layfield

 

Your winner by KTFO: "Stocky Balboa" Joey Styles!

The Friars Club

 

Yes, I know the Friars Club is defunct now, but if they ever get revived, Benny boy would make a hell of a roasting victim. He loves being the victim. It's not second nature to him. It's first!

"Truth Is Fragmentary" by Gabrielle Bell

BOOK TITLE: Truth Is Fragmentary

AUTHOR: Gabrielle Bell

YEAR: 2014

GENRE: Graphic Novel

SUBGENRE: Travel Memoir

GRADE: Pass

Gabrielle Bell is a struggling comic book artist who puts herself on a schedule to draw every day despite her mental exhaustion. Her travels around the world give her more than enough creative fuel for an autobiography, both because of the experiences and the exhaustion. She specifically travels to places where other comic book artists meet, as a way to not only better her own style, but to market herself to the public. With a shy personality and an emotionally wrecked mind, putting herself out there becomes increasingly difficult as the graphic novel marches on.

The themes of shyness, stress, and depression are all relatable topics that most readers can get behind. The ways in which Miss Bell shows them are creative and razor-sharp, to say the least. For example, when asked about her shyness, the next panel shows Miss Bell morphing into a two-headed creature as she wracks her brain thinking of an answer. Being stressed out also takes its toll on her as evidenced by her sarcastic “cat riding” vacation photos. It gets so maddening at times for her that she pops Xanax on airplane rides and chews cocaine leaves just to numb the pain. While I don’t recommend going too hardcore with the medication you take, it’s certainly understandable.

Of all the places Gabrielle has traveled to, her visit to Columbia has to be the most eye-opening. We all have this image of Columbia being a corrupt place where guys like Pablo Escobar can run roughshod over everyone while the police do nothing about it. To some extent, that could very well be the case. But Gabrielle also knows that beneath all the violence and drugs, there’s a spark of humanity and a cry for help. As an open-minded liberal, she knows not to judge an entire culture based on the actions of a few people. That’s a lesson we all need to understand at some point, especially with our current politics the way they are now with the Donald in charge.

If there’s one complaint I have about this graphic novel, it’s that the themes I care about the most took too long to kick in. At first it seemed like Gabrielle was having a good time with all the traveling she did. Then you scratch beneath the surface and find that nothing is okay and she needs help. I wish that was more prevalent in the opening chapters of the book. Maybe it was already there and I missed it, but it just seemed to be a deviation from the near end of the story. If you don’t have a lot of patience as a reader, I can see how this would be a turn-off. But I must advise you to keep going until the very end. I did and I’m grateful for it.

It’s easy to tell that Truth Is Fragmentary was a labor of love for Gabrielle Bell and she should be rewarded for soldiering through the stress and depression. Buy a copy of her book and give her your undivided attention. If you like what you see, keep buying her works. She’ll be grateful for any attention she gets, as are many up-and-coming writers and artists. That’s what you have to remember as you go through this book: everybody starts somewhere and it’s the journey, not the destination, that matters the most. Thank you, Gabrielle Bell, for giving me something worthwhile to read! A passing grade for you, my dear!

"No Cure for Cancer" by Denis Leary

BOOK TITLE: No Cure for Cancer

AUTHOR: Denis Leary

YEAR: 1992

GENRE: Nonfiction

SUBGENRE: Comedy Routine

GRADE: Pass

With a raging wit as fiery as his lit cigarettes, Denis Leary unleashes his comic venom on a variety of topics whether it’s political correctness, war, drugs, alcohol, meat, or his own life experiences. Nobody is safe from his silver tongue and no topic is off limits. If comedy could kill, he’d have a higher body count than Henry Lee Lucas. Hell, he might already be able to pull that off with the clouds of smoke he spews into the theater. Lung cancer doesn’t faze him and nor do sensitive opinions. He’s not leaving the theater until he gets a tumor-sized load off of his chest.

In many ways, Denis Leary reminds me a lot of late-eighties, early-nineties George Carlin. They both have angry, rapid fire deliveries. They can make humor out of even the most dismal topics. They have a non-binary political agenda. Let’s not forget the most important part of this comparison: Denis Leary and George Carlin are both funny as hell. Yes, I do realize that Mr. Leary’s politically incorrect sense of humor might not survive in this day and age, but that’s exactly why it’s important for readers to delve into this book with an open mind. As long as you’re laughing, that’s all that matters. And damn, did I laugh my head off!

It would be nearly impossible for me to list off all of the jokes I found hilarious in this book, because there are so many of them. I don’t even want to give away samples of jokes, because I don’t do spoilers. But think about this for a minute: when you have a viciously angry chain-smoker onstage with an alcoholic buzz ranting and raving about sensitive topics, you know it’s going to be something special. He’s not being politically incorrect just for the hell of it either; he actually has substance to go with his style. Everything he says means something whether you agree with it or not. But even if you don’t agree with some of his talking points, you’re going to laugh anyways even if he has to die trying (which he probably will, given how much he smokes and drinks).

If it isn’t obvious by the end of the story, then there is one thing you and Denis will definitely agree on: live every day like it’s the last. You want that big ass hamburger with five patties and god knows how much cheese? Eat it! You want that energy drink that will taste like sweet tarts but feel like heart attack hell? Drink it! Cross things off your bucket list despite the fact that you’re not even close to the end yet. Hell, you might even be closer than you think, especially if you live in a fun and exciting place like New York, Denis Leary’s home state. Don’t let life pass you by. Enjoy it! Relax! Take a chance!

I’ll admit that I haven’t seen a whole lot of Denis Leary outside of “Rescue Me”, “Demolition Man”, and “Why We Suck”, but this book is a damn good introduction into what he’s really all about. Now that I’ve read the book, I’d like to see this routine performed live. I could probably hunt it down on You Tube or some other movie streaming service. I hope I laugh just as loudly as I did when I read the damn book! A passing grade will go to Denis Leary and his fiery brand of humor!

Exploiting Death

***EXPLOITING DEATH***

Even though I wrote a blog months ago about marketing my wrestling novella to the right people, I just now thought of another example when it comes to wrestling vs. real life. Only in wrestling would it make sense to do horrible things for the sake of ratings. In other words, the Most Disgusting Promotional Tactic award only goes to wrestling and mixed-martial arts organizations, no where else, although the NFL had their fair share with the deflated balls scandal.

The year 2015 is almost over and in the WWE there was recently a late entry for the MDPT award. I don’t know just yet if it’s going to end up winning since the Wrestling Observer Newsletter awards don’t come out until late January, but it’s a strong contender. I’m talking of course about an ending segment on an episode of Monday Night Raw.

Charlotte and Paige were signing a contract in the middle of the ring so that their Divas Championship match can take place at Survivor Series. Charlotte is the daughter of Hall of Fame wrestler Ric Flair and the sister of deceased wrestler Reid Flair. When Charlotte spoke tearfully about her family’s fighting spirit, Paige said, “I guess your baby brother doesn’t have much fight left in him now, does he!” Charlotte went berserk and beat the shit out of Paige while backstage, Ric Flair was crying his eyes out.

That’s right, folks: for the third time in a whole decade, WWE has exploited the death of a fellow wrestler or personality, the first two times being Eddie Guerrero (2006) and Bill Moody aka Paul Bearer (2013). The thing that has a lot of people upset is that nobody asked Ric Flair if it was okay to do this segment. The creative team just went ahead with it, showing that being assholes was the only way the divas division would earn attention.

Going back to my Occupy Wrestling argument, only in pro-wrestling does exploiting death make any sense. It’s wrong as hell, but it makes sense nonetheless. It wouldn’t fly anywhere else. People are already pissed off at the Westboro Baptist Church for all of their “God Hates Fags” protests. Ronda Rousey has had it up to here with Twitter users talking shit about her dead father. Don’t get me started on the NYPD wearing shirts that say, “Breathe easy: don’t break the law” in light of the murder of Eric Garner, and yes, it was murder despite what any cop apologist says.

Exploiting death also leaves a sour taste when it comes to fictional TV shows, movies, and books. Want some examples? Here they are. Let’s do a Star Wars example.

　

DARTH VADER: Luke, you keep looking at the heavens for Obi-Wan Kenobi. He’s not in heaven. He’s down there…in HELL!!

　

How about NCIS?

　

HARPER DEARING: Gibbs, you have just as much chance of catching me as Caitlin Todd does of coming back to life.

　

Ouch! But it gets worse. How about Final Fantasy VII?

　

SEPHIROTH: Well, Cloud, I guess Aerith doesn’t have much fight left in her anymore, now does she!

　

Luke Skywalker, Leroy Gibbs, and Cloud Strife would either cry their eyes out, scream in rage, or beat the shit out of whoever said those things. Not only that, but the audience would have a sour taste in their mouths and would hit the power button at the drop of a hat. And yet, we continue to watch wrestling because there are other segments that are fun to watch.

With wrestling, it makes sense to watch it for things other than the worst parts. You don’t have that luxury with a movie like North Country, which is swarming with sexual harassment scenes. Another example would be a movie I have no desire to see, but know about anyways: Iron-Jawed Angels, where women in the 1920’s were jailed, beaten, force-fed, and raped in their struggle for the right to vote.

The Most Disgusting Promotional Tactic award serves the same purpose for wrestling and MMA that one and two-star reviews do for authors like me: they enforce accountability. However, they don’t always enforce humility, which is much different by comparison. At least when it happens to an author, there’s a slight chance he or she will go back and fix his mistakes, which is something I did with American Darkness and will do with Occupy Wrestling as both books hold a 2.75 star rating on Good Reads and Amazon. The WWE, on the other hand, has exploited death over the past ten years three different times.

I’ll be a wrestling fan no matter what horrible shit happens between the ropes. But if you’re an author with your own brand, you can’t always rely on people always being a fan of you if you exploit death. Sure, it will make your villains the ultimate assholes, but if they keep doing it over and over again like it’s their whole gimmick, then it’ll just frustrate the reader to where he or she won’t want to read anything by you again.

The one thing you can take away from this journal, if nothing else, is that villains were made to be hated, but it’s also okay if they’re liked every once and a while as well. And what do you know? The WWE has villainous wrestlers who are cheered (Kevin Owens) and heroic wrestlers who are booed (Roman Reigns). I just hope Kevin Owens doesn’t find out where The Ultimate Warrior is buried and piss on his grave. That would be bad for business. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

　

***POISON TONGUE TALES***

Would you believe it if I told you I only have three more short stories to write for Poison Tongue Tales before I meet my quota? I didn’t believe it at first either. I knew I had a lot of stories, but not 47. Number 48 will be one called “Wasteland” and it goes like this:

　

CHARACTERS:

　

Faye Blood, Human Monk
Marco Torres, Human Thug
Rook Maxwell, Human Dark Paladin

　

PROMPT CONFORMITY: N/A

　

SYNOPSIS: Faye has been wandering the desert wasteland for days and is exhausted from dehydration. Her monk teachings don’t allow her to attack other travelers to steal their water, but at this point, Faye has no other choice. When she sees Marco and Rook making out in their tent and wasting water by pouring it over each other for added effect, Faye figures that she’s justified in stealing their water. Her martial arts training will get her through almost any battle. Will it get her through this one if she’s caught?

　

***WRESTLING JOKE OF THE DAY***

Since NXT wrestlers Zack Ryder and Mojo Rawley like to call themselves The Hype Bros, then they probably won’t mind calling their tag team finishing move The Bro Job. Then Byron Saxton can make an awkward joke on commentary about how Zack and Mojo have an “in-your-face” style of wrestling.

"Brain Droppings" by George Carlin

Seeing as how “Brain Droppings” is a collection of George Carlin’s greatest hits, it’s only fitting that instead of a full-scale review, I give a few samples of his work. Starting with…

Which is more immoral? Killing two 100-pound people or killing 300-pound person?

Which is taller? A short-order cook or a small-engine mechanic?

If JFK Jr. got into a taxi in New York to go to the airport, do you think he would say, “Take me to JFK?” How would he feel about that? And how does Lee Harvey Oswald’s mother feel when she walks through JFK, knowing that if she had stayed single it would probably be Martin Luther King Jr. Airport?

How can “crash course” and “collision course” have two different meanings?

Kids are now being born with syphilis and cocaine habits. There’s nothing like waking up your second day on Earth and realizing that once you kick cocaine you’re still going to have the syph. And hey, kids! If you didn’t get VD in the womb, don’t worry, you still have a shot. Some toddlers recently picked up gonorrhea at a day care center.

When a lion escapes from a circus in Africa, how do they know when they’ve caught the right one?

They said on the news that tests on monkeys showed HIV can be transmitted through oral sex. What I want to know is, who had to blow the monkeys?

Shopping and buying and getting and having comprise the Great American Addiction. No one is immune: When the underclass riots in this country, they don’t kill policemen and politicians, they steal merchandise. How embarrassing.

Since childhood is a time when kids prepare to be grownups, I think it makes a lot of sense to completely traumatize your children. Gets them ready for the real world.

I always order the International Breakfast: French toast, English muffin, Belgian waffle, Spanish omelet, Danish pastry, Swedish pancakes, Canadian bacon, and Irish coffee.

Something is dreadfully wrong in this country. There is actually an organization called Wrestlers Against Drugs, and on TV there is now a Christian weightlifting tour.

Want more? Buy “Brain Droppings”. It’s what Carlin would have wanted…whether he was dead or alive.

　

***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“We’ve heard about battered wives and a lot of work has been done in that area. But then we started hearing about battered husbands too. There are battered husbands. This happens when the woman is really big, the man is really small, and they each drink a quart of whiskey a day.”

-George Carlin (who else?)-

"Skin Tight" by Carl Hiaasen

To use a phrase that will eventually become commonplace on this blog, Carl Hiaasen has done it again. His dialogue is witty, his villains are giggly, and his pace is breakneck. What more could one ask for when reading an environmental thriller? In the case of “Skin Tight”, somebody wants Mick Stranahan, a former police officer, dead. After disposing of a hit man with a swordfish, he goes on an investigative journey to find out just who paid him off. Along the way, he meets a TV personality with more vanity than credibility, a seven-foot bouncer who looks like a giant Rice Krispies treat, and an ambulance-chasing lawyer with sleazy intentions. The biggest threat to his life is Dr. Rudy Graveline, an incompetent plastic surgeon who has been sued more times than he cares to remember. Mick knows something that Rudy wants him to keep quiet about, albeit within the comfort of a casket: a plastic surgery fuck-up that reeks of homicide, particularly as it relates to a nose job done on Victoria Barletta, a college coed. Putting all of these crazy characters in the same place at the same time can only mean one thing: chaos. Lots and lots of chaos. If you think being trapped in a prison cell with these people is bad enough, try the entire state of Florida. Murder and corruption are common themes within this story. So common that most of these assassination attempts are on Mick’s life. You talk about some fast-paced action? You’ve got it, buddy! Even when things are cooling off for just a little while, they quickly pick right back up where the high-octane action left off. The lengthy conversations alone are enough to keep the reader on the edge of his seat. This story along with Hiaasen’s other works should be the standard bearers of what good fiction is. If you think the only fun you could have while reading is being on Twitter or Face Book, pick up “Skin Tight” and you’ll be instantly converted. It’s because of the fast-paced action that I’ve decided to label Mr. Hiaasen as a profound influence on my own writing. There’s a reason he’s so prolific. For a 375-page reason, buy “Skin Tight” and read the damn thing. Enough said.

　

***TWEET OF THE DAY***

I don’t have bad taste in jokes. I just like jokes that are in bad taste.

-Me-