OK - as you all know by now, I'm not your typical Wonder-Bread Iowa girl in many ways.
I think it's safe to say that one of those anomalies is my love for some old-school rappers...Ice-T, Tone Loc, and the hot man to my left, LL Cool J. If Casey Kasem is to believed, this rapper's stage name actually stands for "Ladies Love Cool James".
I'm thinkin' that's true. (To Mrs. LL Cool J, you are in NO way going to lose your sacred position in Mr. J's life. Just so ya know.)
Of course, thanks to the magic of Limewire, I have procured my favorite LL Cool J recordings, "Goin' Back to Cali" and "Mama Said Knock You Out". The latter has been played a lot in the car lately, and I'm sure you'd really laugh your a$$es off at this sight/sound if you witnessed it for yourself. As it is, I'll simply have to relate it to you via the printed word:
...fade in to interior of 2007 Chevy Cobalt with MD license plates. Sudiegirl is sitting behind the wheel, with one of many bottles of Diet Pepsi consumed throughout the day near her right hand.Now, I realize I'm gonna have to give up my girl card for this next revelation, but I gotta tell you..."Scarface" is one of those movies that I have to watch whenever it's on cable.
She manipulates the CD buttons in such a way so this recording is ready to go.
The Volume is cranked.
Sudiegirl belts along with LL Cool J:
"Don't call it a COMEBACK,
I've been here for YEARS..."
Then promptly turns the rest of the rap into mush because Sudie is, after all, not skilled at rap like her hero. However, this does not stop her from screaming along with the chorus:
"Mama said KNOCK you OUT,
I'm gonna KNOCK YOU OUT,
Mama said KNOCK you OUT,
I'm gonna KNOCK YOU OUT,
She also dances in her car seat...rather pathetically...as people of all nations pass her on the Capital Beltway and laugh THEIR collective asses off. But for one brief shining moment, don't call it a comeback...she's been here for years...
I know...I know...it's gory as hell. But I'm drawn to it, like a moth to a flame.
It's understandable, you know? Think about it...
- You've got Al Pacino wearing cheesy suits with his dress shirt buttoned down to his navel, revealing a very respectable early '80s chest pelt underneath.
- You've got Michelle Pfeiffer wearing a variety of silk dresses cut on the bias, plus she's playing a jaded drug addict from Baltimore...so it's got that "kind of sort of in my own back yard" thing going.
- You've got F. Murray Abraham in-between Fruit of the Loom gigs before his big Oscar win and fade back into relative obscurity
- You've got Robert Loggia YELLING and OVERACTING (always a benefit in all his films).
- You've got... *sigh*... Steven Bauer, the only genuine Cuban in the movie, wearing tight pants. Oddly enough, however, the tight pants are not so flattering on him...he could do with a better cut pair of pants that's a little more trouser-like...fuller at the hip. Maybe that's just a girly thing? Who knows...at any rate, I could chew on his lips for DAYS, my friend.
- You've got cheesy Euro synth-pop by Giorgio Moroder.
- You've got a script written by Oliver Stone, who was fighting a coke addiction while writing this masterpiece.
- Finally, you've got F. Murray Abraham being beaten up by Colombian thugs and thrown out of a helicopter with a ROPE around his NECK...yep; choke that chicken.
However, let me reveal one more shameful aspect of myself...the movie is SO DAMNED LONG that I usually fall asleep near the end, even though I love it so. I'm not sure if it's the constant swearing, the sight of Steven Bauer making me swoon or WHAT, but I usually conk out about 1.5 hrs in and wake up just in time for the big shoot-em-up at the end.
Just thought you might like to know that side of me...you may not be surprised...but then again, you might.
So on that note, here's da quote of da day:
Thought for Today:
"In some sort of crude sense which no vulgarity, no humor, no overstatement can quite extinguish, the physicists have known sin; and this is a knowledge which they cannot lose."
- J. Robert Oppenheimer, American physicist (1904-1967).
DAMN! I think I got into the wrong field.