The Nicolas Cage 360

After six long years in the making, I've finally been able to complete my most ambitious art project: The Nicolas Cage 360.

Since 2004, some of Nicolas Cage's biggest films have been promoted by posters that have him posed at various degrees of the Cage-o-sphere®. Now, with his upcoming film, The Sorcerer's Apprentice, the circle is complete.

National Treasure: Book of Secrets at 45 degrees, Kick-Ass at 180 degrees...

The many sides of Nicolas Cage.

You can "Cage" them into your Netflix queue here.

Put them all together, and behold: The Nicolas Cage 360:

From Now On, the Toddler Answers the Door

For some reason, people with the audacity to knock on your door and interrupt your home life with their bullshit, and it's pretty much always bullshit, really bother me. I basically hate them, which comes through when I open the door.

I generally use "What do you want?" as a greeting. I know. Just don't open the door. Maybe I like the confrontation. Maybe I want to teach some lessons about bothering assholes in their homes. Not sure.

So yesterday's visitor, he's got a completely unconvincing open about how he's new to the neighborhood, but he's not selling anything and he's not a Jehovah's Witness.

"So far so good," I said. "What do you want?" I repeated.

This prompted a long-winded speech, about how he works for some financial planning something and he has some dvds with info from Prudential but he's not from Prudential but anyway it's information to look at and then call them (?), they don't take your money (!) but they can help you in these uncertain financial times.  He pauses a couple times during this speech to ask if I'm ok or if he's offended me, probably because while the arms that opened the door are very polite, my face is another story altogether.

I'm about to say some shit to shut him down about how it's so likely that he's going door-to-door to help his "new neighbors" out of the goodness of his heart, no other incentive for him in these uncertain financial times...and I'm unsure how much acid is going to spill out of my mouth...

And then my two-year-old, Logan, walks up to the door, leans out through the gap between my leg and the door, peers at the man, and shows me how it's fucking done.

"Pizza?" he asks the guy.

"Oh, how cute!" the guy says.

"Pizza?" the kid repeats. "I want it, pizza. Pizza?" He looks at this dude with some real disappointment. "Pizza."

The man decidedly does not have any pizza, and says so.

"Pizza, I want pizza." my toddler tries again. "Piiiiiizzzzzzaaaaa."

The man tries to relaunch his spiel about the future and finances and whatever like I'm the biggest rube in the world. Come on, dude. Really? A real smooth operator would jump on this cute kid and ride that as his "in" to the obviously devoted mommy, standing amused at the door, mostly looking down at her kid, smiling for the first time since the whole thing started. He must be new at this.

Logan starts to close the door. I back away. The guy keeps talking.

"Pizza?" the kid asks, one last time.

"No pizza" the guy says.

Logan's heard enough. He closes the door. I help him push it all the way shut.

I fall down laughing. Jason and Steve have also watched this whole thing. They start laughing, too. Logan starts laughing because we're laughing. Then he asks for pizza again.

We feed Logan some leftover pizza. I could not be prouder. I tell him how proud I am, and that he's the best baby in the whole world. He's not a baby anymore, though. A baby wouldn't have asked for pizza. Maybe breadsticks.

Later that day, Jason found this under our doormat:

Which means this guy heard us laughing, among other things. Still, this note is easily the best thing he did the entire time.

Truly, though, the next time a solicitor shows up at the door, I'm going to ask for pizza.

R.I.P. Dennis Hopper

I'll always remember him as the guy who played King Koopa in the Super Mario Bros. movie, but Dennis Hopper has been in everything, including Easy Rider, Speed, Cool Hand Luke, Waterworld, Rebel without a Cause, Blue Velvet and Season 1 of 24

Dennis Hopper
Actor, Director and Easy Rider
May 17, 1936 - May 29, 2010

Dennis Hopper was also in the influential DVD rental, Space Truckers. I think the tagline for that movie was "In space, no one can hear you, good buddy," but I'm not positive. Most recently, he starred in the TV series Crash, but I hated the movie it was based on and I think Starz should avoid making original programming because it just gets in the way when I all I wanna do is watch Step Brothers again.

This Movie's Taking Names

We highly recommend you see Kick-Ass, which is one of the better comic book movies and straight-up action movies to come out in a long while. It's also my new favorite movie with "Ass" in its name that isn't an adults-only release.

Kick-Ass is ultra-violent, which is necessary for the movie's theme, plus if they toned it down, the film would just be "ass." And if you think it's too disturbing to see a schoolgirl assassinating people, go rent Battle Royale and you'll realize there's always room to take things further.

Here's me as Hit Girl, courtesy of the free Kick-Ass iPhone app.

Action figures by Mezco Toys ship this October.

R.I.P. Captain Lou Albano

You know who's a dick? OK, fine, John Gosselin, yes. But you know who else? The year 2009 is a dick. This year has killed more than its fair share of celebrities, and 2009 has just taken its toll on another star.

R.I.P. Captain Lou Albano
Wrestling Superstar, Music Video Dad, Captain, Rubber Band Enthusiast, Super Mario
July 29, 1933 - October 14, 2009

(This Mario is a Mighty Mugg I customized for Jenni's birthday.)

This morning, Captain Lou Albano died at age 76. Some of you may know him from the "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" music video, where he played Cyndi Lauper's dad who asks her what she's gonna do with her life. Others may know him as a celeb from the World Wrestling Federation. Or maybe you know him as a dude who rubber-bands his beard and dresses like every day is Aloha Friday. If you're Hands in the Air, then you have fond memories of Captain Lou portraying Mario on The Super Mario Bros. Super Show.

R.I.P. Patrick Swayze

Farewell, Patrick Swayze. Sorry, Kanye, but your scene-stealing jackassery at the MTV Video Music Awards has been upstaged by some truly sad news, and you really don't have a chance this time to interrupt it. As a tribute to the star of Dirty Dancing, Point Break, Red Dawn, Road House and To Wong Foo, I'm reposting this picture of Jenni and Steve (from one of my Valentine's posts) where they're re-enacting the famous scene from Ghost that redefined pottery as we know it.

Patrick Swayze
Actor, Dirty Dancer
August 18, 1952 - September 14, 2009

He's like the wind. Ditto.

The Death-Defying Adventures of Danger Baby

Introducing Danger Baby, infant about town, toddler of action. He's like the Newbourne Identity. If there's an accident waiting to happen, this baby is likely nearby and there's likely an additional accident waiting to happen in his diaper, too.

There are certain places where a baby should never be, like at the top of a long flight of stairs, a sketchy alley or inside my recent date's womb, but Danger Baby likes to live on the edge. This baby's middle name is Danger, except it's really his first name since his name is "Danger Baby," but still. Anyway, enough talk. Let's get to the action that is the first installment of Danger Baby.

Bale Privilege

Esteemed actor and Batman-about-town Christian Bale had a bit of a bad day on set while shooting Terminator: Salvation, and ripped into the Director of Photography or an Associate Director--well, someone named Bruce got tore the fuck up. Hopefully you've had the pleasure of listening to Mister Christian's rant, but if not, you really owe it to yourself to take a listen. And kudos to the creator of this clip for setting it to a pic of Bale's character from American Psycho.



The man knows his way around the word "fuck," and I likes me a man who knows his way around the word "fuck." For serious, I want Christian Bale to be my new best friend, which I said today to Jason, my actual best friend, as I listened to this.

Now from the small amount I know about show bidness, show bidness people, and the like, I have to deduce that this type of fuckstorm is all too common, they just don't usually let the sound guys capture it and it tends not to get out because of Hollywood magic and shit. Also, from all accounts, Christian Bale seems like maybe he has a touch of a temper.

With that in mind, here are some select things Christian Bale has probably screamed at members of the cast and crew from past productions he's been involved in. See if you can guess the flicks!

"Larry, you fucking twat. I specifically asked for half-and-half, not non-dairy creamer. Be a fucking professional for once in your life. Next time this happens, I'll shove a Batarang so far up your ass, you'll taste The Joker's greasepaint."

"Fuckass ball mittens, are you fucking kidding me with this fucknugget asshole-ass line reading, Winona? Have some respect for your fucking craft. You really are a very small woman, with an even smaller talent."

"I'm going to skullfuck the next fucking cockknocker who asks me what the fucking dragon's motivation is. Do I have to prepare for everyone? It's a fucking dragon, even I'm not that fucking method."

"Who the fuck do I have to blow around here to get a fucking newsboy cap that doesn't make me melon look like a bleeding ballsack?"

Liveblogging The American Gladiators Semifinals Round 1

As fans of fine culture, we've been watching the all-new, all-awesome American Gladiators all along, and we kept meaning to liveblog it (yes, we know liveblogging something like this is essentially meaningless but that's Hands in the Air in a nutshell, wouldn't you say?) and now the time has come. I'm dispensing with the time codes on these because it doesn't really matter much and I'm fucking lazy.

We start off in Gladiator Arena with the first two female contenders squaring off in Hit and Run.

It's clear from the tension in the air that both of these women have tasted the sweet nectar that is the Hulkster, and they hate each other for it. This isn't just an athletic contest, it's a fight for the love of one good, muscular, probably bewigged man.

So our main problem with Hit and Run is that most of the players do it wrong, and if they did it right it would be too easy. The gladiators push 100-pound balls at the players, and instead of just waiting or running past, these idiots duck under them, crawling along the plexiglass bridge. Silly. Jason wonders if any of these people have ever played a video game before, and obviously few have because if they did they'd figure out the whole just wait a second and use timing tactic.

Jason: The balls should be on fire. And the gladiators should have guns.

Jenni: This whole thing should be on roller skates.

Jason: The whole show should be on roller skates.

Jenni: Yeah, true.

Jason: Or the gladiators should ride the balls and grab the players.

Jenni: Or the balls could have spikes, at least for the semifinals. Or they should change the bridge, make it really skinny, or grease it, or remove random slats.

Jason: The bridge should move (like a people mover, but fast)

Jenni: Yeah and they have to roller skate against it.

Steve: The pit shouldn't have water in it, it should have spikes, like Mortal Kombat.

Clearly, we should be coming up with events for this show.

And now it's the men's turn. Touching shit: the small blond man is doing this for his dead mother. And the small dark haired man is doing this for his fellow firefighters and all the firefighters who have ever died in New York, or the world, something like that.

Jenni: Oh, yeah, that's great, I bet the dead people are really touched. There was a conference call up in heaven--all right everybody, listen up--we've got two brave young men down on earth who are dedicating their American Gladiator runs to a few of the dead up here. What an amazing, meaningful gesture. There were tears in heaven that day, I'll tell you that.

Power Ball. Jason says the gladiator Titan is called that because that's what happens to his pants when he's with these men.

A bug pops up advertising My Dad is Better than Your Dad, and as an aside, I'm pretty sure my dad could totally demolish Jason's and Steve's dads. They disagree. They're ridiculous. I ain't saying my dad's superbadass as much as I am saying that their dads are sort of creampuffs. We're an athletic family. I'm just saying. I dominate, and I must get that from somewhere, am I right? My mom could also totally take their moms, on the for real tip.

Hang Tough, with the ladies, then the men. Not much happening there, but this is one of the more sexually charged events because the gladiators end up just wrapping their legs around the contenders and trying to get them into the pool. Always looks humpy.

Gauntlet. You can totally tell when the blonde chick gets thru to the end that the artist formerly known as Hollywood Hogan is totally proud that he did this girl earlier, and she feels like she's earned his love. It's pretty touching. The same thing happens with the brunette chick. Amazing. Who will win the affection of Hulk Hogan and the chance to appear on Hogan Knows Best next season? I don't know!!

Joust. Titan keeps wiggling his big Easter Ham thighs in the most sensual way. You know that thing Jason said about Titan earlier? I'm pretty sure it's happening to Steve and Jason right here on our very own couch.

The Announcer and Hulkster say Joust is Titan's house and Titan's Joust. Jason says he imagines Titan's house has nice drapes and doilies in it.

The Wall. Wolf was chasing the blond dude, so he sniffed him before the event. At the end, Wolf did not catch his prey but he did roar right into the camera.

Steve: I was turned on and frightened at the same time. Wolf is mantastic.

Pyramid. When Justice and Mayhem come out, they sort of just jump around atop the squishy blocks and look very much like young ladies at a slumber party. The blond guy actually started laughing at them and so did we. By the way, the blond dude is wearing some very supportive underwears, and is sporting a bit of a pyramid of his own, if you know what I mean. He also talks like he's on speed. Jason says he should thank his dealer for his great performance in the game.

As the men get ready for the Eliminator, the brunet firefighter is doing this weird bouncy waist and hip thrusty stretch move. What was he doing?

Jenni: That's known as the fireman's pelvic stretch. He's getting his "hose" ready.

Jason: What do you want to bet that Titan is down there, just out of the shot?

I sort of just stopped then, I mean, Steve and Jason said some other things that were probably funny in there but I was getting really hungry and not really paying attention. I'm a bad lady. Maybe they could edit in some of their comedy if they see fit. Or not. I dunno. The blond guy and the brunette lady won, in case you were wondering.

R.I.P. Quiet Riot Singer Guy

It's the biggest '80s music tragedy since Richard Marx hacked off his mullet: the death of Quiet Riot lead singer Kevin DuBrow last Sunday.

Kevin DuBrow
Quiet Riot lead singer
October 29, 1955 - November 25, 2007

The only way for some '80s headbangers to make it
back into the news is to die. Take note, heavy metal has-beens.
I'm talking to you, Kip Winger and the
dude who sings "The Final Countdown."

Now while your fists are raised at half mast and your heads are bowed at medium-bang for Mr. DuBrow (appropriately rhymes with "da 'fro"), it's worth noting that I haven't posted an R.I.P. tribute in about two months, so I've overlooked some other seemingly noteworthier deaths. Joey Bishop. Norman Mailer. Deborah Kerr. No, the "Cum on Feel the Noize" singer is more in line with our readership. Plus, Pavarotti just couldn't belt it out with the Muppet-pitched ferocity of DuBrow, and mime Marcel Marceau (rest in peace in your invisible box) was just a little too quiet and not enough riot.

Steve vs. The Spider

No, that’s not the title of the latest summer blockbuster currently thundering at the multiplex next door while you’re trying to enjoy your relaxing romantic comedy. If only. No, this is LIFE people, the cruel bitch of existence slapping me in the face with an arachnid invader in my very own home, nay, my very own private bedchamber! Needless to say, I could not let this intrusion, this unprovoked attack, stand.

Jenni noticed it first, skulking in the corner, its hairy appendages tucked neatly beneath its bulbous body. When she led my gaze to the creature, our eyes locked hard, its innumerable, dark orbs radiating malice. Quickly I shoved Jenni aside, getting her out of the line of attack. The little beast sat there, a coiled spring, plotting some form of vicious plan of assault it had trained long for in one of those many human-killing camps you hear about spiders starting all of the time. I couldn’t be sure at the time, but I think it was some sort of spider-terrorist.

As a freedom-loving, red-blooded American, I had no choice but to declare war. A lesser man or perhaps a very brave toddler might have gone for some sort of spray attack, but not I. Actually, I was informed by Jenni, no stranger to insect-disposal herself, that the Neutra-Air we had on-hand was too light for spider-killin’. I thought about spraying the stuff anyway and using a cigarette lighter to incinerate the foul thing, but then I remembered I’m afraid of fire and I can’t use a lighter (they hurt my gamin’ thumbs). I turned away for a few seconds to look for some other weapon which could slay the beast.

That was a few seconds more than the spider needed.


With a blinding speed that would make you blind if you tried to look at it because it was so blinding, the arachnid darted across the ceiling, positioning itself to strike at one of my vital organs, probably the jugular. The creature looked down at me menacingly, licking its little spider-lips (look close, they have them), assured of its kill. I’m sure at that moment it was dreaming of victory, webbing me up and dragging me back to its spider-friends and devouring my succulent flesh as I writhed in futile agony. Oh it must have tasted so sweet to that mean creature, the thought of sinking its fangs into me. Oh how its rotund belly, surely full of the heads of small puppies and the legs of helpless babies, shook with anticipation.

But as it prepared to lunge at me, perched over my very own bed where I lay my head to sleep at night, I struck first. Oh how its bravado quickly vanished, for not many spiders can resist the “paper towel pinch of death.” There is a Bolivian spider so quick, no human hand can contract fast enough to secure it. There is a Scandinavian spider so large that no human hand can pinch it hard enough. Luckily for me, this was no such beast. My hand, paper towel protecting me from its poisoned shell, closed around the wicked thing like the grasp of death itself, sure and swift. I smote my enemy’s ruin upon the wastebasket.

I emerged victorious, realizing that I had gotten lucky, hopefully not for the last time. I offered my fallen enemy a final, grudging salute, knowing that only by testing myself in the fires of his mortal combat could I emerge as tempered steel ready to cleave through challenges yet to come. That night, I drank a cold Coke. It never tasted sweeter.

Jenni vs. Predator Part Two: Entrapture

Me 'n' my soul had a vision. We were, like, so totally on a mission. I may be filthy dirty in the mouth and mind, but still, there are way worse perverts out there, and little kids who need my help, since obviously their parents don't give a shit.

I put on my perv-huntin' "no fat chicks" cap, fired up the ol' lappytop, and got to trolling for justice.

I'll be the first to admit, the early attempts didn't go very well. I think it was my opening lines. Perhaps I was a touch overeager.

6yrsgoingon12in: Whew, I needs me some cock.
(virtual crickets)
6yrsgoingon12in: I sed I'm 6 years old and HORNEE!!!!11!1!!
((dickenjane has left the chat room))
((D.Flower has left the chat room))
((kilfhunter69 has left the chat room))
((yngaznluvrmiller has left the chat room))

[DO OVER]

blewnicorn95: my virginity is like a brick in my tiny, lacy underpants. heavy and scratchy. If only someone would...lay that brick.
((Peeniemeeniemineymo has left the chat room))
((Chodeally has left the chat room))
((cap'njzz has left the chat room))
((the chat room is empty))
blewnicorn95: anyone?

[DO OVER]

Virjenni: Someone put me out of my misery--I've gone 10 years without sex! Ha! Because I'm only 10!! Get it? 10 years without sex? Come on, I know most of you are three, four times my age and can totally beat that!!! Let's hear it boys! Are you hornier than a fifth grader?
painalingus has left the chat room
bigballz6969 has left the chat room
insemenator has left the chat room

Huh. My quarry was obviously a bit sharper than Chris Hansen had lead me to believe--the hard sell was not gonna work. Luckily, I used to be a profeshunal writer, so I knew from subtlety. But once I started being "real" I got sort of depressed about the whole thing. How can anyone really do this and not want to blow their brains out?

Katsnatchfvr: NE buddy want 2 be my friend?
Katsnatchfvr: talk 2 me!!!!
tungkiss: Hey, sweethart, how'r U?
Katsnatchfvr: OK but how do u kno i'm sweet?
tungkiss: I dont.....but i wood like 2 find out!
Katsnatchfvr: ^o^" how?!?
tungkiss: u no how
Katsnatchfvr: no -__- ?
tungkiss: i can taste u
tungkiss: down there
Katsnatchfvr: oh yeah? on my foots?
tungkiss: UR silly I mean ur girl parts!!
Katsnatchfvr: "girl parts?!?" those have a name, dickweed
tungkiss: huh?
Katsnatchfvr: uh...oh i bet that would tingle tangle me in my underpants place
tungkiss: oh yeah u will LOVE it
Katsnatchfvr: describe it to me!!
tungkiss: i will kiss you down there like on ur mouth but instead on your pussy
Katsnatchfvr: oh you think that will do something? pfft. no wonder you talk to preteens online.
tungkiss: uh oh God UR a cop
Katsnatchfvr: silly! i was just jokin...like that guy on TV whose name nobody ever remembers
tungkiss: thats not funny we could get in a lot of truble
Katsnatchfvr: we?
tungkiss: yeah and then we cant be in luv anymore honey
Katsnatchfvr: "Luv?" Um, yeah. You probably kind of mean that. This is just too sad. Are people really this lonely? Do all of you really have no one better to talk to? Fuck, that's some messed up shit right there. Ugh, I need to lie down.
tungkiss: and I can get on top of you and make you feel good with my hard cock in your tiny pussy
Katsnatchfvr: ...
tungkiss: baby what's wrong? u make me horny
Katsnatchfvr: you make me worry about the future. and the past.
tungkiss: don't worry ill use protection
Katsnatchfvr: that's not...wow.
tungkiss: you'll be saying wow a lot honey i promise
tungkiss: i really kno how 2 do it
Katsnatchfvr: that i seriously doubt, or you wouldn't need to be here chatting up kids

Yeah, so, in the end, I didn't manage to get anyone arrested. I mean, I went to their houses and hammered their balls flat, and fed them anything that leaked out. But I'm telling you, half of them liked it, so, mission totally not accomplished.

Oh, well, no matter. I had a vision the other day about people who steal music and movies from defenseless corporations. Surely that will be an easier vigilante mission for me...(wink)

Until then, here's a bonus one:

[DO OVER]

rubberpantz: nknhbhkbmesddrs asdfasfdfdsasaewajk (Hey pervs! that means, "Hi, I'm a little toddler, totally unable to express my deep and boundless desire for delicious grown man-cock, but rest assured, I am in the market. Are any of you, perhaps, a member of the clergy, or a teacher?")

Great Ball o' Fire

For much of my adult life, I have made a study of badassitude. You see, I was born a badass, and I am proud of it.

All the world loves a badass, but I don't just want to love the badasses around me, or the badass that is me. I want to understand badassitude, I want to cultivate badassitude, I want to celebrate badassitude. Badasses deserve their time in the spotlight, too.

Though true badassitude is rare, you can find it in many surprising places.

Now, I don't know this little fella's name, but I can tell you this: little yellow computer-generated fire hat dude is BADASS. Look at his face. There's like, 85 emotions in there at once. He's concerned, but he's also a little pissed at you for having to be reminded about this shit. He is serious, but he is playful--goddammit, his eyes are playful.

He is raw power in a rotund, jaundiced, hatted package. You can smell the baditude on this mofo a mile away. You can taste it on your lips.

He's so badass, he doesn't need a name. Or a body. Or a firehose. He puts out fires (and gives safety lessons) through sheer force of motherfucking badass will. If he thinks too hard about putting out fires, the sun will go out and then we'll all be fucked. Do not make him think too hard about putting out fires, I am not in the mood to freeze to death.

Possibly the greatest thing Mr. badass fire hat yellow guy has ever appeared on is sadly not available on the internet, and I keep forgetting to bring my camera to try to take a picture of it from a moving car on my commute home, but I will try to convey the subtle beauty and force-of-nature-level impact of it. Our stoic, fire-hatted hero is placed in the center of a rippling turquoise background; ah, yes, it's the water in a pool. Arranged around him, the stirring slogan: "Children drown without a sound." And then there's some other stuff on there but I forget what it says. Something about installing fences around your pool or hiring a lifeguard or some shit.

Young, pre-fire hat badass before he learned all about fire safety.

Unfortunately, I cannot give you the pleasure of first encountering him in this setting, but this is how I first met the badass fire mascot, and I think you can understand why he's affected me so deeply. Here is a fire mascot, a bit top-heavy but undeniably masculine, dignified in his fire hat, clearly a symbol for stopping, dropping, and rolling--and he's concerned about water-related safety, and children. Is there no end to his heroism? I don't know where he keeps his heart, but it must be enormous. There are lifeguards and whoever teaches people how not to accidentally kill their children to deliver this message, but no, that's not good enough for him. He needs to get involved on a personal level. Fuck, now I'm weeping.

Damn badasses get me every time.