Rants! Get yer rants here!

I’m in an especially ranty mood today, so it’s time to take the garbage out…

OCHO STINKO IS ALL A-TWITTER
And what a twit he is, too! Seems that Cincinnati Bengals wideout Chad Johnson/Ochocinco claims that he plans to do some Twitter-ing during the games he’s playing in this upcoming season.  Yeah, Chad, way to focus on the task at hand and concentrate on winning a football game, huh?  Is it any wonder the Bungholes are such a dysfunctional lot with jokers like this fool who constantly undermines the concept of team?  Shannon Sharpe had a big mouth, too, back in the day, but at least he backed it up with solid play, while Chad is just a total Chad, and only shows flashes of brilliance here and there.  Cincy already let their best receiver, T.J. Houshmandzadeh, get away to Seattle in the off-season, and it’s obvious that Ocho Stinko only cares about showboating.  Why does Cincinnati put up with this clown?  Wide receivers are a dime a dozen anyway—kick this bozo to the curb already, and get someone who cares about winning!

SECOND VERSE, SAME AS THE FIRST
In a similar vein, why do the L.A. Dodgers put up with Manny Ramirez?  They were doing just fine without him while he served his suspension, and since his return, he’s been more or less on cruise control, getting his five innings and three at-bats in every night before wanting out of the game.  Last night vs. the Mets, he seemed to have gotten ejected from the game on purpose in the 5th inning and didn’t even contest the ejection.  This arrogant jagoff is Exhibit A on what’s wrong with pro sports today.  When properly motivated, Ramirez can be one of the best players in the game, but it’s a rarity that he even gives a shit anymore.  Just retire, baby!

HALF-WITT’S HOLIDAY?
I remember an old "SCTV" skit where Andrea Martin poked fun at "Three’s Company" actress Joyce DeWitt’s early ‘80s L’eggs pantyhose TV commercials, with AM posing as "Joyce De-Half-Witt", modeling L’eggs Knee-Hi’s instead.  Well, the real Joyce certainly lived up to that name on the 4th, getting busted for DWI after running through a barricade—in El Segundo, of all places!  Hell, even I avoided El Segundo at all costs when I was in La-La Land last summer.  Why is it drunk celebrities can’t seem to get a ride when they get totally ripped? Surely, these people can afford a cab ride, even has-been actresses like DeWitt, whom I always found to be far more attractive than her co-star Suzanne Somers back in the day.  Until I saw this photo, that is.  Even in recent years it appeared that JD still took care of herself and wasn’t hard on the eyes, but this latest embarrassing drunken celebrity mug shot shoots that theory all to hell.  Sad, sad, sad…

WHEN THE LITTLE HEAD DOES THE THINKING…
At the risk of sounding like Dr. Phil, I would love to pose this question to the late Steve McNair in regards to this 20-year-old chick he was involved with:  What the hell were you thinkin’?!?  Just judging by her photo, methinks he could’ve done a lot better than her—she ain’t exactly a hottie.  I’ve never seen McNair’s wife, but I can’t believe he cheated on her in favor of this skank, especially when you consider that Mrs. McNair is a nurse, and she helped him rehab a lot of his nagging injuries and kept him on the playing field and prolonged his career—so much for undying gratitude.  As for the skank, it sounds to me like she had her eyes on his fame and fortune and when he threatened to end their little fling, she whacked him, then herself—can you say "Golddigger"?

JUST GO AWAY, AL
Why is it every time a high-profile Black celebrity dies, they always trot out Al Sharpton and/or Jesse Jackson to deliver eulogies?  And yes, I know Jesse’s a family friend of the Jackson clan, but these boobs have no relevance anymore, even in the Black community, yet there was Sharpton yammering away at Michael Jackson’s memorial service yesterday.  And why in blue blazes does he feel the need to constantly yell during his speeches?  I realize the whole Southern Baptist preacher shtick involves being forceful and frenetic, but this is a somber occasion!  You can just as easily get your point across in lower tones.  Jive turkey…

THE KING IS DEAD—ALREADY
No, not referring to Michael Jackson, but rather LeBron James, who had video confiscated of Xavier U's Jordan Crawford having the personal effrontery to outplay LeBron and deliver a slam dunk over "King James" in a pick-up game Monday at the LeBron James Skills Academy in Akron.  Up until that point in the proceedings, it was perfectly okey-dokey for the two cameramen on hand to shoot the event until the Nike Getstapo commandeered the tapes so their poster boy won't be scarred for life by repeated playings of the dunk on YouTube and ESPN, et al.  I used to like LeBron up until now, but between this and the non-handshake thing during the playoff series with Orlando last month, he's revealed his true colors as Kobe, Jr.—just another arrogant and petty douche athlete.  And then there were Dan Leb-Retard and J.A. Adande on ESPN defending James and Nike, acting as the true corporate shills they are, since ESPN and Nike are basically joined at the hip.  You know what I say?  Screw Nike and their overpriced ugly-ass shoes!  Take your stupid swoosh and shove it...

There!  I feel much better now...

It's a blog, Mrs. Walker, it's a blog...

This definitely ain't a good time to be a celebrity, considering the current spate of deaths amongst famous people.  Here are three more the Grim Creeper claimed this week.

KARL MALDEN, 1912-2009
“Streets Of San Francisco” is one of my all-time favorite TV Cop shows ("Hawaii Five-0" is right up there with it), and Karl Malden was a big reason why.  He was terrific as the tough-but-fair Det. Mike Stone, opposite Michael Douglas as upstart Det. Steve Keller, or “Buddy Boy”, as Stone always referred to him.  It’s amazing to think Malden was well into his 60s when they did that show, which required a fair amount of athleticism, and he obviously took great care of himself, considering he damn near lived to be 100.  Until I was reminded of them last week in his obituary, I’d all but forgotten KM’s American Express travelers checks “What will you do?” TV ads, which were lampooned by the likes of Johnny Carson and others.  Also easy to forget is Karl Malden’s film career prior to SOSF, during which he won a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for A Streetcar Named Desire and was nominated for Best Supporting Actor for On The Waterfront, co-starring with Marlon Brando.  A fine actor and a good guy—he was even married to the same woman for 70 years.  Rest in peace, Karl—ya done good.

DRAKE LEVIN, 1943-2009
“Drake who?” you say?  He may well be the greatest Rock ‘N’ Roll guitarist that nobody knows, and “The Kid” provided all those careening riffs and killer solos for Paul Revere & The Raiders on pretty much everything they did up to and including “Hungry” in 1966.  A very underrated guitarist in a very underrated band, Levin left PR&TR for a National Guard hitch to avoid the draft in ’66 and later formed The Brotherhood with fellow former Raiders Phil Volk and Mike Smith, releasing two albums for RCA.  Drake had been battling cancer for several years and finally succumbed to it on Saturday.  Seems semi-fitting, I guess, that a guy from such a patriotic band like the Raiders would pass away on the 4th of July.  Rest in peace, Drake—ya done good, too.

STEVE McNAIR, 1973-2009
Unquestionably the most shocking passing this weekend was former Tennessee Titans QB Steve McNair, shot to death along with a female acquaintance who wasn’t his wife who may well have killed him and then turned the gun on herself.  Even sadder, this one has turned in a soap opera rife with speculation about what actually went down.  McNair’s wife claims to have no previous knowledge that he was seeing this woman, but evidently half of Nashville was aware of it.  An ignominious end for a guy who I admired for his toughness, often playing hurt and in tremendous pain, which in turn no doubt inspired his teammates to play harder with him.  Sad, very sad…

PALIN’S BAILIN’
Let’s hear it for Ms. Winky-Dink, Sarah Palin, for resigning as Gov. of Alaska with a year and a half to go in her term.  She predictably spouted off a bunch of bugle oil about “it’s all good” and how she wants to help the Republican party “from the outside”, yadda x 3.  Sounds more to me like A) she can’t hack doing the job, and B) she wants to write books and do talk shows and make money, etc.  And don’t tell me this is so she can gear up for the 2012 Presidential campaign—that’s three freakin’ years from now!  She’s wasting her time anyway if she does run—Sarah Palin is far too flighty to make a decent commander-in-chief, especially if she can’t even finish her current term.  As trite as this may sound, a winner never quits, and a quitter never wins…

Again, for all you feminists out there:  I’m all for having a female President of the U.S. someday, but geez, Louise, surely we can find someone better than Palin or Hillary Clinton.

EATING IS NOT A SPORT!
One of these days—and it won’t be long—one of these hot dog-eating fools is going to wind up dying on live TV during these silly competitive eating contests.  68 freakin’ hot dogs in one sitting?  I don’t think I’ve consumed that many in the last five years!  Nuckin’ futs…

LATHER, RINSE, RE: PETE
I just finished author Mark Wilkerson’s 600-page 2008 biography Who Are You on The Who’s Pete Townshend last week, and I’m a bit spent.  The author was almost too thorough, especially with all the direct quotations he included from Townshend, which began to wear me out as a reader after a while.  No doubt, Pete’s been very influential in my life via his songwriting, but I’m not sure why it didn’t dawn on me long before now what a really pompous ass he can be sometimes, not to mention a very contradictory and confounding individual at times.  Why Roger Daltrey has put up with his crap for so long—apart from PT being his meal ticket all these years—is beyond me.  The book mentioned the numerous times Townshend tried to get the infamous Lifehouse album off the ground (even in the last ten years or so), only to abandon the project because no one could understand the concept.  I don’t think PT himself ever fully understood it himself, and I’m like “Dude, give it up, already!”  I also found all the stuff about his worship of spiritual leader Meher Baba very hypocritical, considering how much Pete abused drugs and alcohol in the ‘70s and early ‘80s (and damn near died of an overdose in ’81)—something which Baba (the original “Don’t worry, be happy” guy) did not condone at all.

I used to think it would be really cool to meet Pete Townshend and engage in conversation with him about life and such, but now I’m not so sure.  It seems Pete has this weird knack for being a very gracious and kind gentleman one minute, and a total arsehole the next—very Jekyll and Hyde-ish, you might say—toward his fans, the musicians he works with, record executives, the media, etc.  None of this diminishes the incredibly intense music Pete’s given us throughout his career, but I view him in a different light now—not quite the idol I once thought of him as.

“HULLABALOO” AND TYLER TOO?
I took another trip on the Way-Back Machine over the weekend, and thoroughly enjoyed viewing NBC’s answer to “American Bandstand” in the mid-‘60s, “Hullabaloo”.  I highly recommend renting or buying these DVDs, which are a nice time capsule of that era, music-wise, featuring many of the big names of the day, like Herman’s Hermits, The Kinks, The Animals, Petula Clark, Sonny & Cher, Paul Revere & The Raiders, Dusty Springfield, The Supremes and even the dreaded Freddie & The Dreamers.  Unlike “Bandstand”, “Hullabaloo” had a different host each time, so one week you’d get Sammy Davis, Jr., another you’d get Trini Lopez and another you’d get Michael Landon (singing, no less!).  All the Go-Go dancers hopping around on-stage while the groups performed were a total hoot, too.  Good stuff, Maynard…

WELL, DO YOU REMEMBER RICK ASTLEY?  HE HAD A BIG FAT IT—IT WAS GHASTLY…On those “Hullabaloo” shows, they had a weekly segment from England featuring late Beatles manager Brian Epstein, who would discuss up-and-coming artists from across the big pond.  While watching Epstein, I finally made the connection that one Rick Astley had to be his illegitimate son!  Do they not look like father and son?!?  Probably not true, though, since Epstein was a renowned homosexual.  Then again, so is Astley, according to Brian Griffin on "Family Guy".








THE DOCTOR WAS IN!
A while back when I did my Top 20 Live Album countdown post, I made mention of the Rolling Stones’ Get Yer Ya-Ya’s Out as being considered one of the top live LPs ever, but the good Dr. Sardonicus pointed out that it wasn’t all that spectacular.  Turns out the Doc. was right, as I now have it in my collection (having pirated it from the library), and I was fairly underwhelmed by what I heard.  It wasn’t bad, mind you, but hardly scintillating.  As great as the Stones are live in concert, it’s an odd contradiction that their live albums are so average (and sometimes less than average).  Good call, Doc!

HMMM…
If He really does indeed exist, I kinda had Him pegged to be more of a Stryper fan myself…