Some nights have themes. Some nights have essays that I’ve been mulling over for weeks. Tonight, it’s literally whatever I can come up with in the next fifteen minutes. (I’ve learned two things from keeping this blog for sixteen months. The first is that comedy is difficult. The second is that I have no idea how the guys who write daily newspaper columns pull it off.)
1) So, the guy from Napoleon Dynamite (the one who isn’t Pedro) is starring in a film with Rob Schneider and David Spade. This leaves me with two questions. The first is, how long until Napoleon fires his agent? I mean, you’re riding this massive cult hit and you follow it up by starring in a Spade and Schneider film? Plus, who the hell is giving Rob Schneider work? This is the star of two Deuce Bigalow films that we are talking about here. There is no way that he can be so much of a box office draw that he deserves this career. He must have done a Robert Johnson and gone down to the crossroads and sold his soul to the devil except that instead of becoming the greatest guitar player of all time he just ended up starring in bad comedies.
2) Over the weekend I finally caught The Flaming Lips’ set on Austin City Limits in which they cover Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs” with Cat Power. Somehow I don’t get the feeling that when Ozzy wrote the song that he envisioned it being performed by a band surrounded by people wearing pink panda suits. Actually, now that I think about it I bet Ozzy was imagining it being performed by dancing pandas.
3) Upcoming concert note: Bryan Adams is coming to Kansas City. Yes, the damn Summer of ’69 guy is playing at a casino in town and boy, is it tempting for me to get a ticket just to heckle. I’m thinking of going and yelling, “Play New York, New York damnit” and “Dude, you were so much better in Whiskeytown.” It’s a musical reference that only maybe one other person in the crowd would get but I’d laugh and that is all that matters.
4) I know that a number of you are wondering why I have not commented on the biggest sporting event of the past weekend, which even took place in my hometown. Yes, I am as stunned as you are that I didn’t make it back to Chicago for Wrestlemania XXII. (There’s been twenty two of them. I still remember the first one with Hulk Hogan and Mr. T taking on Rowdy Roddy Piper and Mr. Wonderful Paul Orndorff. With Jimmy Snuka and “Ace” Cowboy Bob Orton seconding the respective teams. With guest ring announcer Billy Martin seconding the guest timekeeper Liberace. Yes, it really is no wonder why my social life is lacking.)
5) Ok, but what were my feelings on Wrestlemania. Based on the results, it looks like the card was better than I anticipated (I didn’t buy the pay per view since I had a big inkling that it would suck.) Mick Foley was slammed through a table that was covered with thumbtacks and set on fire, which is so awesome. Rob Van Dam won a ladder match to get a title shot in the future. (RVD is one of my favorites just for his catchphrase of that he’s not the showstopper, he’s the whole f’n show) The biggest event was the Hall of Fame ceremony. There is a wrestling hall of fame and it is becoming a bigger deal to be inducted. Bret Hart finally made his way back on television to accept the honor, even though he hates the WWE and blames them for the death of his brother Owen, which occurred just a few miles from where I am right now. This chapter of the Bret Hart saga is still really interesting. Despite the fact that he despises the company, he worked with them to put together a greatest hits DVD collection and to make one final speech all in order to protect his legacy. After everything that happened, all he wanted was to be sure that people remembered him as one of the best and nothing more. No appearance at the show, no interfering in a match, no being named commissioner, just a chance to say thanks and goodbye to his fans. For someone who has spent much too much time watching wrestling over the years, it was a rather touching moment.
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