One Less Wiggle In Their Step

Lately, I've been too sad and confused to update my blog. Sad, because Greg Page (the Laa Laa of the gang) from The Wiggles has retired (Why, God? Why?!). Confused, because I have no idea who he or The Wiggles are. Regardless, I'm sure he will be missed. By whom I can't say. I'm not god after all. But the truth is he's gone. And all because of some mysterious disease that causes nausea and dizziness in him for some inexplicable reason. Crabs? The Clap? The Bubonic Plague? Who can say? What's even sadder is the thought of all the lawsuits he and the other Wiggles will face from people who now know for sure where they caught the nausea and dizziness they got from watching their show.

We should take this opportunity to remember all the great artists who have been stolen from us too early in their careers by death or disease. Janis Joplin, Jim Morrisson, Kurt Cobain, and now Greg Page. Audioslave is right. The original fire truly has died and gone. Take it away Chris Cornell. (Play the video below or the dramatic ending to my eulogy is completely ruined)

Music On Mars

I'm not an uncritical fan of Veronica Mars. I'm just as doubtful as the next person about Veronica's improbable resourcefulness. But ever since Buffy The Vampire Slayer went off the air, Veronica Mars is the only show that provides viewers with a fantasy world where a popular blonde hangs out with all the losers at her high school/college instead of getting gang-banged by the football team like in real life.

So there I was drifting off into Kristen Bell's spunky loveliness when I heard the song below by New York-based singer-songwriter Regina Spektor. I've always had a soft spot for the whole Fiona Apple/Tori Amos set, so needless to say this song had me hooked from the get-go.

What's more, the video is dripping with artistic imagery and class. And that's what I'm about these days - dripping.

Feel The World Up, Make It A Better Place

Continuing a proud tradition in sleazy tabloid news that nobody wants to hear about shockingly uninspired movies that almost no one will watch, the Sun reports that Sylvester Stallone forsook all kinds of nookie, hanky panky and tomfoolery in order to get into character for his reprisal of the role of Rocky Balboa in Rocky VI. In the world according to Sly, getting into a murderous rage requires one to be deprived of sex in any form. Unless he got so hard up that he started giving come-hither looks to his sparring partners, I'm assuming this approach works.

Apart from providing an outlet for sexually frustrated people all around the world (losers) to get their teeth knocked loose and/or receive debilitating injuries, Stallone has also created the perfect excuse to explain especially long dry spells in our sex lives. If you ever feel awkward when the subject of sex comes up with your buddies, you can now claim to be in training to be a pro-boxer. Annoying follow-up questions about your exercise regimen can always be avoided by biting a chunk off the asker's ear. Nothing like uncontrollable bleeding to bring a conversation to a standstill.

If Stallone is right in making this connection between violence and sex, then he's also given us the answer to world peace. Which is a full-blown orgy between all the nations of the world! Now all we need is a very large mattress, some Marvin Gaye and 6.5 billion condoms.

CGI Cocoon

When I heard that Ian Mckellen would be portraying a 25-year-old version of himself in Magneto, one of the upcoming prequels to the X-men trilogy, I thought here we go again - another Andrea from Beverly Hills 90210 (granted, one who can act) wandering around hopelessly in a role that was written for an actor 20 years younger (In Mckellen's case, probably a century or two).

But according to IGN, Mckellen is confident that the CGI magic used to make him and fellow thespian, Patrick Stewart, look like papier-mache' warnings of the overuse of botox, could be fine-tuned into making him look a couple more jubilees younger. What's more, he goes so far as to say that he and Meryl Streep could go on playing Romeo and Juliet for the next 20 to 30 years!!!

This is all part of a large Hollywood conspiracy to keep young nubile actors out of a job. What will the Jessica Albas of the world do, now that Meryl Streep's CGI-assisted body can fill a bikini just as well? I propose a PETA-esque campaign to save these endangered actors, I've tentatively named Save The Bimbo's (STB). It's quite catchy in the abbreviated form. Like STDs. Get it? I crack myself up.

He's Heavy And He's My Brother

Just wanted to inform any interested parties that my own blood brother has decided to start up his own blog. Male's premier computer expert and soon-to-be father of a supermodel astrophysicist, mi hermano's got a lot of classified information that even Interpol would kill for. And those guys don't kill at the drop of every bowler hat. Even though they've got the license to do it.

Here's a link to the second best damn blog out there. http://psyph.blogspot.com

Ephen Stephen

Watching the news: Something to be tolerated for a few hours out of your day if you share a television set with your parents like I do. Synonym: The sight of unflushed, used tampons in the toilet, that is if you also share a bathroom with your sisters like i do. God! I've just realized I have nothing in my life I can call my own. Except my dignity! You can never take that away from me.

And my love of Stephen Colbert. That's all me. Stephen's The Colbert Report, an offshoot of The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, (both on Comedy Central, the only Cable channel worth paying for) is far and away one of the only reasons why anyone below the age of fifty can pick Dick Cheney or Karl Rove out of a line up nowadays. I still have no idea what things like fiscal reform or senatorial filibustering means but they sure do sound funny in a sentence. And that's what i want when I hear about the deaths in Darfur or huge tidal waves wiping out half of Asia. Good comedy. Laughter is the true panacea after all.

Seriously though, Colbert is the funniest man on earth. And maybe even Krypton. Watch the video below to judge for yourself.

Meow!!!

I'm in a rare clubbing mood this week and that's why I thought, why not make my next post about some dance music? I'm practical like that. The song below is Give It To Me by Timbaland along with the usual suspects Nelly Retardo and Justin Timberfake.

The music isn't bad and the beat actually sounds pretty fresh but recent buzz is all about this being a 'beef' song. Not the good kind, which you could turn into a nice big steak or grind into a burger but rather the rappers-throwing-down-their-gauntlets type of 'beef'. Most of the media reports have centered around Timberlake 'dissing' Janet Jackson in a vicious nasal put-down at the end of the track (think angry geese). No doubt inner city kids everywhere establish their street-cred by singing insults at forty-year-old women. Post-'N Sync Justin is one tough cookie you don't want to mess with. What will he do next? Shoot Paula Abdul in a drive-by?

Magazine Myalgia

There's a new magazine hitting the stores in Male'. And what could be more relevant in politically and socially unstable times than a women's fashion magazine. Praise the lord! Our prayers have been answered!!

This is especially good news for the adolescent male population with bathroom reading habits (they're only interested in the articles, of course. Bikini waxes aren't just for women you know). That is until they see the picture above, of what looks like either a model impersonating daffy duck with a hernia or some random one-legged person in a slutty wedding dress who was having trouble holding back a humongous dump. If my second guess is right, this poor woman should immediately sue the regally named Rasrani for making light of her condition. Poor sphincter control is a serious ailment. Not to menton the added stress of being a monopod prostitute who caters exclusively to perverse bride fetishists.

Just for the heck of, it here's a link to the magazine's website. www.rasrani.com

Fresh O.J. In The Morning

Salman Rushdie be warned! There's a new kid on the block. Out to prove that that he's the J.D. Salinger of this age, O.J. Simpson (you might remember him from such court cases as the murder of his wife) has written a book titled, If I Did It, Here's How It Happened, about how he would have killed his wife and her boyfriend in 1994. Now that's classy. It's also subtle. I mean titles like The Catcher In The Rye are so obvious. There's no need to turn any pages. It's all right there on the cover. It's undoubtedly about a catcher......in the rye.

Too bad this valuable piece of contemporary literature will never see the light of day. Take heart O.J., many great men before you have been unjustly ridiculed and censured in their time for writing about their exceptional lives. If Hitler's Mein Kampf is any indication, you've got a great future ahead of you.

Condoms Are For Losers

Proving the long tradition of shocking virility and aversion to prophylactics, which are the birthright of Latheef men, my brother's got his wife pregnant and I'm soon to be an uncle. Cue hallelujah chorus. People who read this blog might not care about this joyous bit of news but I say, so what? I'm happy and I don't give a fuck to what you pro-choice abortionists think. Babies are the future. And this one might just be lucky enough to take after me. Can't wait for it to come out. God speed young fetus, god speed.

J.K. Rowling Needs Lessons From The 'Real' Celebrities

While her bank account may be the size of most third world countries' annual income now (mostly from the lunch money those same third world countries' kids spend on her books), this woman has no idea how to go about promoting something in the public eye. Where are the sex tapes? The nipple slips? How about a DUI conviction or two? Grey Goose bottles don't sell themselves. Spend some cash you miser.

Here's a link to the trailer for the fifth book in her series, Harry Potter and The Order of something or other, which doesn't seem to show any signs of ever ending.

http://pdl.warnerbros.com/wbmovies/orderofthephoenix/teaser/teaser_500.mov

Improving On Imperfection

Ever wonder what it'd be like if somebody stuck two arms on the Venus De Milo? Or erased the mind-fuck that is a Picasso and made a four-year-old with cerebral palsy draw something that vaguely resembles an object on it? Well that's what the guys in the video below have done with Justin Timberlake's Sexy Back. Which they've cleverly redubbed Paxil Back.

Except they didn't tinker with anything which has the slightest chance of ending up in a museum. Unless sometime in the future, Sexy Back is considered prime Louvre Material. Then Dan Brown would write a book in which the protagonists find out that playing the track backwards summons the antichrist. Except they discover that the antichrist was Timbaland all along! That man is behind far too many popstars' revamped careers to be human (Timberlake, Nelly Furtado, Pussycat Dolls...need I go on?). Plus he reminds me of the Cheshire Cat in Disney's Alice in Wonderland when he smiles. If that thing doesn't give you nightmares, what will?!!!

Mmmm...Bear traps

Ever got bored on a Saturday night and felt like being horribly emasculated? Or in the ladies' case like, uh, totally empowered? Then this is the movie for you. Although Hard Candy is one of those under-the-radar low-budget cult movies, there's no reason why it shouldn't get the popularity it deserves. But in a world where Britney Spears is allowed to have children, I guess justice isn't exactly the hallmark of it. Sigh!

Still this is hardly the indie chick flick the first few sentences of the last paragraph might have misled you to believe. It's got something for the whole family. Notably, a tutorial on how to castrate the guys you hate for 14-year old girls with a budding interest in home surgery (if he stands you up one more time for that bitch Kelly, who he promised he broke up with last summer after one meaningless kiss, you'll know what to do ladies).

Also there's something for those pedophiles who just can't seem to do anything right (such an overlooked minority). Stop buying those jumbo packs of jellybeans and get a refund on your new Playstation 3 boys because all you need to do is become a high-end fashion photographer with an expensive apartment in the suburbs. As easy as that! It wouldn't hurt if your next door neighbor turned out to be Sandra Oh either. I hear she's like an oysters and ecstasy cocktail for the preteen set. Don't beleive me? Check it out. Here's the trailer.

*Warning*- Certain scenes in the movie (not the trailer) may cause uncontrollable cringing and pillow-hugging in anyone with balls.

CSI: Bringing You Dead Bodies & Good Music

I'm talking about the real CSI by the way. And by that I mean CSI (ugh) Vegas. I hate having to say that. You've got to understand people, there IS no CSI without Grissom in it. Yeah, his lines before they launch into the opening credits are always corny but this is the kind of corn you pop and munch on for hours on end until you find that your back's been stuck to the leather couch and it makes that ripping noise when you try to get up.

What was I saying? Oh yeah..great music is a part of the total package that is CSI and they've trudged out another little-known piece of musical genius. Anyone who's seen the 7th episode of the 7th season (Post Mortem) which aired on the 9th of Nov. might've been totally distracted from all the blood and gore by the smoke and whiskey vocals of Willis asking you to "do your dahnce" (don't you just love the British pronunciation? Always adds a little class). Willis' version of Cameo's Word Up totally trumps the original AND the crapfest that was Korn's cover of it. It made me pause this particular episode of CSI for god's sake. And nothing short of an H-bomb would usually achieve this Herculean feat. So for those of you who appreciate great music here's a link to this masterclass in doing covers of old classics (are you listening Jessica Simpson you butcher?). http://www.last.fm/music/Willis

*If you want to learn more about Willis well then search the web yourself because I've got a life too. You never ask me how my day was. (sobs uncontrollably)

They Have Cameras In The Maldives Too

Although they're all made out of coconut shells and shards of glass. As a people we're nothing if not creative. Leonardo Da Vincis - every single one of us. So instead of going on and on about how talented and versatile we are, I thought I'd pick a subject and go about it. Not to mention, get some free publicity for my family in the process (the photograph under the title is my baby sister's). Nepotism! That's something else we're famous for.

My sister's been doing self-portraits almost all of her pathetically short life (No she's not dead. I just get bitter when I discuss younger people). Although she does amazing work that would put Annie Leibovitz to shame, this particular one was edited with the help of a young graphics designer at CQ magazine (a local rag dedicated to the worst Cosmo-inspired schlop that could pass for journalism. Didn't say we were writers did we?). Yet, in the fashion of most substandard books, their pictures are quite pretty.

However, for a look at what the Maldives is really about, one must always resort to cliche'd (but good) snaps of sea, sky, leafy shores and toothless old hags. Wouldn't want to disappoint all you narrow-minded bastards. Here's a link to a collection which features all of the above said islandy goodness. Viva La Maldives.

www.flickr.com/photos/nattu

Drawn to Drawn Together

In the mood for a reality show? No? Didn't think so. As reality shows have consistently failed to simulate the elusive (to TV show writers) concept that is everyday life, most people with three digit IQs have stopped watching them.

Comedy Central's animated show, Drawn Together, is as far from a reality show in the contemporary sense of the word as can be. It's satire at its cleverest and least pretentious. The show stars a sexist, racist (everything else-ist) superhero who goes by the name of Captain Hero, a crass internet download called Spanky Ham, an "ill-conceived" (the show's words. I think it's dead-on) take on SpongeBob Squarepants called Wooldoor Sockbat, a broad caricature of African-Americana in the 70s called Foxxy Love, a grossly unsexy 20's era sex symbol called Toot, a gay computer-game character called Xander, a bible-thumping homophobe and all-around bigot who also happens to be a fairytale princess called Princess Clara and a tiny pokemon-type japanime monster by the name of Ling-Ling who, sadly, represents the entirety of the Asian community.

If that long-winded and, consequently, grammatically-fucked-up sentence isn't enough to get you interested in this show then here's a link (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MKc_et8g5L0&mode=user&search=) to a trailer of it's 3rd season. As my grandma always said, an animated picture's worth a thousand useless words. Actually that's a lie. She never said that. Poor woman would probably end up in the fetal position, in a pool of her own urine, if she ever saw this show. God bless old people.

Christina Aguilera on Diazepam

As scandalous and eye-catching as that headline is, it's not really true but if any tabloids out there are willing to take it out of context, I'm willing to swear it happened under oath and pose naked for their cover.

What I'm actually trying to refer to is this one track on Aguilera's mostly loud, over-riffing new album that she does with hardly a soaring "whoah" or a "yeah". It's called Save Me From Myself and It's the 8th track of the second cd of her 2 disc set, Back to Basics. But be warned, most of Linda Perry's work on the second cd is throwaway bubble-gum faux-jazz crap with lyrics falling far, far short of clever double entendre (You know who you are. Yes you, Candyman)

Yet this one song manages to be both self-affirming and heart-wrenchingly sad at the same time without permanently impairing anyone's hearing. It's just Christina's raw, naked vocals, crooning and moaning as an acoustic guitar is softly plucked in the background until she reaches an understated and quiet musical orgasm. (I am the master of subtle metaphor).

Still, all jokes aside, this track is totally worth a listen. Kudos to Aguilera for resisting her inexplicable urge to belt everything at the top of her seemingly megaphone-assisted voice. By doing so she's saved Save Me From Myself from herself. (Yes I amaze myself too ;))

While I can't encourage illegally downloading any music ;) here's a link to a perfectly legal place where you can listen to it (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B2Zy6fCwuxY). If you don't you're just an unromantic, love-hating, soulless zombie who should've stayed dead!!!

Will the real Sacha Baron Cohen please stand up?

Ah Sacha. Where would we be without you?....Probably exactly where we are now. Still there's hope that future generations will someday make shrines in your honor and worship at your Jewish feet. I wonder if Jew-feet are any different from regular ones? Anyway that's a question for another post.

For the uninitiated (i.e. mormons, eskimoes and Pat Buchanan) Sacha Baron Cohen is the creator and portrayer of such lovable characters as Ali G., Borat Sagdiyev, Bruno and Elmo. Alright the fourth one's not his but what all four have in common is that they are all pretty annoying (unintentional in Elmo's case). What's special about Cohen's work is that it's the very embodiment of what Matt Groening once called 'subvertainment'. Move over Simpsons. Dysfunctional families are so 90s anyway! The problem however is that most people (humorless prudes and probably Pat Buchanan again) don't get the subvert part. They think its just toilet humor which panders to the ever-growing lowest common denominator demographic. However, I and my chosen group of intellectual superiors who see beyond this clever facade, will defeat these neanderthals and someday rule the world. (Laughs sinisterly and strokes white Persian cat).

So on a totally unrelated note, I've noticed that Baron Cohen almost always does interviews in character so I've always wondered whether he's just shy or has a cripplingly serious case of Dissociative Identity Disorder. That is until I came across this link to a video in wikipedia (the unreliable encyclopedia of the future!!) of Cohen with Jon Stewart on the Daily Show, which might help all of you with an interest in Sacha Baron Cohen, or his creations, to make up your minds about him. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dutJ31sIW68). Watch it! If not for any other reason but to see Jews converse in their natural habitat. Television!

Blogger-alert

I've always thought people who blog were social outcasts and/or mentally retarded. Seeing as I fit comfortably in that very politically correct box, it was destiny, nay kismet, that I ended up starting one of my own.

So in the tradition of AA meetings all around the world (no disrespect to their saddening ubiquity) I'd like to introduce myself. Hi, I'm Hamza and I'm a blogger. As this is the alpha post I don't want to bore you with mundane details about my life. Suffice to say, I'm a rather ironic Maldivian (look up a map you ignorami), scraping through college in Britain and this blog is my way of avoiding the work I should be doing towards my degree. So as a reward for anyone who managed to get through this dreck, here's a link to my favorite site (http://www.thesuperficial.com) which has helped me and, I hope, will help others, realize just how hollow and meaningless our celebrity-obsessed culture has become. Glory to the human race!!!!