Every once in a while Hollywood manages to remake a classic film, and it touches our hearts. It captures the lightning of the original film, bottles it, and then catapults it into the stratosphere erupting in a downpour of film making magic as drops of genius rain down to quench our thirsty souls.

Do you think that’s how they pitch these remakes? Can’t you just see a room full of suits over at Columbia Pictures, sitting around an obscenely long table, jerking each other off in these bullshit pitch meetings? “Goldstein, quick, what did you love as a kid?” “Uh, I used to watch the A-Team.” “Of course! That show with George Peppard and Mr. T and all the guns and explosions and nobody ever got killed! That’s genius, Goldstein, green light it!”

That’s gotta be how they do it, right? Just recycling old ideas rather than putting in the work to make new ones. Like a guy who is too lazy or scared to go out and meet somebody new, so he spends all his time at home, masturbating to the memory finger-bopping his prom date. I rarely see the remakes. I see a trailer for a remake and I dismiss it as soon as I recognize the first piece of regurgitated dialog. Before they can say, “Unleash the Kraken!” I’m out that bitch. I won’t see it. Ever.

People often accuse me of being too judgmental (by people, I mean dipshits) and that I shouldn’t judge a movie until after I see it. This is where I have to disagree. If there is one thing Hollywood can do, it can make a trailer that reveals everything you need to know to A) Know the plot twist. B) Know the movie will be shit. C) All of the above. With that said, let’s examine Hollywood’s newest remake, The Karate Kid, and why it will be a glorious turd.

Setting:

In the original version, it was easy to be sympathetic to the plight of Daniel Larusso because he had just moved cross-country, from New Jersey to Reseda, had no friends, no money and had to get around the valley on a bike. How could you not feel sorry for a kid who had to live in New Jersey AND Reseda? Needless to say, it was hard for poor Daniel to fit in with the popular rich black belts that live in the Hills. But in this version, The Karate Kid is an African-American kid who has to move to China because his selfish mom can’t find a job in the western hemisphere. Be that as it may, he’s an American living in China. I imagine that all he would need to win the hearts and minds of his new classmates would be a box full of Kobe Bryant jerseys, an ipod full of hip hop and some Jordans. Throw in a good lie that he’s Diddy’s nephew and he’s the most popular kid in school. Even the bike angle won’t work because he lives in China. Everybody rides bikes there. That’s like moving to Beverly Hills and all you have to drive is a Bentley.

Suspension of Disbelief:

Sure the original Karate Kid had many levels of bullshit. Like a Super Bowl sized crowd at the All Valley Karate Tournament, a crane kick that, “if done right, no can defense” – until part 2, and a 23 year old Ralph Macchio playing a high school kid but it was 1984. It was a simpler time. We could suspend disbelief that a high school kid could wax some cars, paint a fence, paint a house, sand the floor and become a black belt in a semester; especially if he was fighting some rich white kid who was taught Karate from a sleeveless, alcoholic, Vietnam vet. But this is 2010 and this new Karate Kid is shown in the preview jumping, spinning and kicking like he’s Jet fucking Li. I don’t remember Mr. Miyagi teaching Daniel nunchucks. And are we really supposed to believe that round eye can learn enough kung fu to beat up these grasshoppers in their Shaolin Temple by Spring Break? C’mon.

Dialog:

“Get him a body bag, Johnny!” “Sweep the leg.” “Mercy is for the weak. We do not train to be merciful here. Here, on the streets, in competition, a man confronts you he is the enemy! An enemy deserves NO MERCY!” Those were the shit. How many times have you heard those lines? The Karate Kid had some of the most memorable dialog for 80’s movies. How do you think that is going to sound by somebody from China in 2010? “Get him body bag, Xian Chan!” “Sweep reg.” “An enemy deserves No mercy. And now we do Buddhist meditation.” It just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

So there you have it, three very good reasons not to see this new version of The Karate Kid. Of course, there are many more. Like the fact that they aren’t even doing karate, they’re doing kung fu. Jackie Chan is way too badass to play the Mr. Miyagi role. The Karate Kid is fucking twelve in this movie. And if the UFC has taught us anything, it’s that kung fu, karate or any other type of aesthetically pleasing martial art doesn’t really work in a street fight. Daniel would be better served to learn a rear naked choke and maybe a little ground and pound. I don’t know why Hollywood keeps trying to remake the classics. I would rather see them take another shot at a movie that sucked the first time around. You know, to get a little redemption. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t mind seeing a remake of Howard the Duck.

I’m a little weary from the road as I type this. I just drove in from Scottsdale, in an effort to collect signatures for my petition to get reimbursement for illegal immigrants that have payed into social security. It went…okay. I’m all for having less people around, cluttering up my travels and whatnot, I just think the sensible bunch of us should be entrusted with the vital duty of handpicking those that truly deserve to go. Guadalupe and his three jobs and his family-packed mid-Nineties mini-van (complete with large Tweety Bird sticker on back window), don’t make me as uncomfortable as the pumped up, pissed off Travolta in White Man’s Burden meets a younger, more energetically hateful Johnny McCain type. The type of hooligan that might take a pickup truck load of Mexicans from Home Depot and drop them off in front of Lowes, just to fuck with their heads. Let’s send that guy somewhere that’s not here. Mexico, perhaps. I hear there’s an ever-increasing amount of available land out there. That should be the compromise. We’ll accept your honest hard-workers, and the women that don’t look like Paul Rodriguez. In exchange, you have to harbor America’s mullet. Bada-bing, bada-bop.

Can the rest of the country have Arizona deported? We’ll throw in the charming border (prison) town that is Blythe, California. Yes, the parentheses around prison was meant to be symbolic; but I digress. I like digressing.

Before I digressed like a motherfucker, I was discussing all the problems in the World. Which brings me to the source of all of the World’s problems: China. Finally getting with the fifteenth century, talks of lifting the one child per family ban have surfaced. If this concept materializes, China promised that it will continue to drop unwanted girl babies off of steep cliffs because it is, quote, “the right thing to do.” I bow a bow of respectful disagreeance.

The very same America loving (not that there’s anything wrong with that), Mexican hating (undocumented Mexican hating, that is) lummox that will call you a fag for driving an import, even if it was assembled in Wisconsin, might be surprised to see how much of their Wal-Mart money goes to stimulate the Chinese economy that, in turn, stimulates his economy and allows him to work so he can jerk-off half of his paycheck to buy horribly shitty product from a depression-factory of a store like any given Wal-Mart. Such is the circle of life.

Yes, Wal-Mart. Where the greeters keep their hands in their vest pockets to hide the slit marks on their wrists and the people in the isles move about like confused dogs that shit in their own food dish, because they don’t know any better. I have no empathy for anyone that has ever made me feel claustrophobic while buying Visine, by the way. They can all be deported, promptly.

That same misguided consumer might even succumb to talk radio induced paranoia about their “half-not-white” President. Obama doesn’t personify the image of a scary black guy (if you saw him walk past you at an ATM at 3:30am, you wouldn’t clutch your purse to your frightened bosom, fella’s) so the neo-con’s have to work that much harder. They push the Muslim thing pretty heavily. They won’t rest until they sniff out the bean pie that’s cooling in Barack’s jacket pocket. He’s not the type of Muslim that is driven by the promise of sweet, plentiful, untapped ghost pussy -so I’m not sweating him. I have the same amount of mistrust in Obama as I’ve had for every President that has ever asked for my trust; afraid of him, I am not. My subordinance is at a healthy, yet rational, level -I’m glad to report. On a side note, I attribute broken campaign promises and deployment of troops to the White politician in him. White Devil Barry is fucking up the program. Point being: Obama isn’t scary, his bosses are. Some of which are the aforementioned, slick talking Chinamen. Such is the circle of life.

I hope this piece on immigration, China, Wal-Mart, thy President, and sweet ghost pussy was as informing for you to read as it was for me to write.

Buddy Hackett

A friend from work told me about how he got to see Buddy Hackett perform in Vegas for the last time in 1996. I was confused because I didn’t think he had died until recently. After doing some research, or checking Wikipedia as it’s known more colloquially, I discovered Buddy Hackett had quit performing regularly in ’96 due to stage fright. Stage fright?! How is that possible? This is Buddy Hackett: purveyor of blue! You know, The Love Bug guy (whoever worked at Disney at the time knew how to cast against type)! How could THE Buddy Hackett suffer from stage fright? He claimed it came from the side effects of a surgery he had, and that makes sense, but still. The experience alone means I should be a better comic in my seventies than I am now in my twenties, and not just because of the old people jokes.

The thing is that I still get butterflies in my stomach before I get up. I was sort of hoping they’d dissipate by now after two years, and while they don’t come on as strong as they used to, they still happen. This is another thing experience should take care of, but I’ve also heard long time comics say that they still get the nerves, performance anxiety, stage fright, whatever you want to call it. A lot of those guys say that the day they don’t get that feeling is probably their last day performing, because it means that standup doesn’t mean anything to them anymore. Physically, they are not compelled.

For Christ’s sake, I hope that’s not true. Jesus, how many articles in a row is this where I speak about the shitty sides of comedy? Between confidence, nerves, open mics, bringer shows, cliché jokes, exactly what the hell am I supposed to find? I’m hoping for a point of comfort. I’m getting there, again, with time, effort, and patience. It just scared me that Buddy Hackett of all the people had something as debilitating as stage fright hit him so late in his career. As I mentioned earlier, he associated it with side effects of surgery. So, once again, the conclusion I’ve drawn is that I should probably just quit my bitching and get back to work. See you on the circuit!

Anybody who has been watching television NOT about real fake housewives, real fake celebrities and real fake, err well, real people from Jersey, knows that there has been a lot of talk about aliens these past few weeks. Now before you go swinging your Mexican flags, understand that I am not talking about illegal aliens. I’m talking about extra terrestrials.

We come in peace, putos!

That’s right, space aliens. What was once deemed a subject of science fiction has slowly moved into the realm of just-plain-science. One of our greatest scientific minds, Stephen Hawking, recently produced a show about the likely probability of the existence of space aliens. The History channel has been running marathons of “Ancient Aliens.” Even Larry King had an entire show dedicated to aliens and although he didn’t say it at the time, might have been interviewing a real life space alien who called himself, “Dan Aykroyd.”

I come in peace, putos!

It seems that everybody has been having aliens on the brain these days so I thought I’d share some thoughts with you on the subject. First off, I believe aliens exist, which is to say they do exist. I don’t believe in much but what I do believe in are odds. And so does just about everybody. Show me somebody who doesn’t believe in odds and I’ll show you somebody who will take the Rams to win the Super Bowl this year.

We’ll take that shit right the fuck to the bank!

The universe is just too big. Almost too big to fathom. Put it this way. If our Milky Way galaxy, which is over 100,000 light years across and has over 100 billion stars in it, were the size of a CD, the universe, by comparison, would be the size of the Earth. Or to put it another way, if our Milky Way galaxy was an actual Milky Way candy bar, the universe would be about 3 of Kirstie Alley’s stomachs.

What do you mean you’re out of galaxies?? Kirstie hungry!

So yeah, there is alien life out there. But that is where I draw the line as far as my belief is concerned. Whether or not they have been here, are here or are coming here is anybody’s guess. Because the truth is, like any other kind of belief, we have no fucking clue. But it sure is fun to listen to them try to convince you. My favorite ones are the people who speculate what aliens would be like because they always give them human qualities. Even the illustrious Stephen Hawking couldn’t escape the arrogance of comparing space aliens to humans. He said that if there are intelligent aliens out there, we should do our best not to contact them because, most likely, they would be hostile and would want to exploit the resources of our precious Earth the way the white man did the Native Americans. Wait a second, Stevie. You mean to tell me that an intellect so powerful as to create and master intergalactic travel would want to come here to get our resources? What resources? Wood? Oil? Nuclear material? Dirt? They better hurry. We’re almost out of the good shit. What could we possibly have that a super race of aliens couldn’t extract from the billions of other planets out there? Bullshit maybe? We’ve got lots of that. And there are over 6 billion of us crawling on this rock with our germ infested, war mongering asses. To come here to exploit our resources would be like sitting on a pile of fire ants cause the dirt is soft.

This looks like a good spot. Don’t worry, they’ll move.

The History channel’s “Ancient Aliens” proposed that ancient civilizations could have had relations with space aliens and that genetic hybrids could have been created. The evidence they cite to support such claims are simply the large amount of human / animal hybrids we find in hieroglyphs, statues and art. Okay, that makes about as much sense as an episode of Tyra. Don’t any of these people realize that ancient humans were still humans? My bet is that they were just as full of shit as we are. Maybe the ancient artwork and hieroglyphs were nothing more than their pop culture. Can you imagine the shit you could come up with if you saw our culture 2000 years extinct? You would probably think that we were a race of people that bred with teenaged vampires and worshiped giant silicone dildos.

Sally never felt comfortable in church.

Look, I don’t know what the answers are. But what I do know is that nobody else does either and probably never will. Let’s be honest, if aliens ever decide to come here, most people wouldn’t think they’re aliens anyway. They would call the aliens Jesus or the Jew Messiah or the Prophet Mohammad or L. Ron Hubbard and would be happily vaporized by their death ray in the name of the rapture and Armageddon and the promise of Heaven. Isn’t that a movie? If it isn’t, it should be.

Blog; A frequent, chronological publication of personal thoughts and Web links. It’s derivation being, web log.
If you’re like me, the first experience with any “log” was Captain Kirk’s. You remember how it goes right? “Captain’s log, stardate two-thousand whatever…..” Kirk would then proceed to take us on this incredible journey where new lands were found and moral questions were answered.

Moral question: Does taking that Priceline gig make me a sellout?

I always thought a log’s purpose was to document a point in time; some amazing place or profound thought or anything bearing some kind of importance to be referenced at a later date. You know, a LOG.
Now what is a blog’s purpose? To be a virtual toilet, clogged and filled up to the seat with mental mud butt; an outlet for people to write the things that nobody would want to read. A vehicle to express a favorite ring tone or discuss the layered subtext of a Fergie song. A seed of thought planted, only to grow into a glorious shrub of babble.

He called me, “glorious!

I’ve read blogs about hair dryers. I’ve read blogs about rims. I’ve read blogs about celebrities – who’s fat and who’s thin. (Sorry, got a little Dr. Seuss there)
I know what you’re thinking. “What about this blog? You’re just writing about blogs! What the fuck do you know?” First off, these blogs have purpose. They’re throw away joke premises that are way too long to ever do onstage. And secondly, nobody reads this shit. I’m actually just talking to myself. Which brings me to another thing that pisses me off. WHY DOESN’T ANYBODY READ MY SHIT?!! Jesus, I’ve read blogs two sentences long that say something like, “Got a parking ticket today. Cops are fags.” And the goddamn thing has like 50 comments on it. I’m writing about the shit that matters, like politics and school shootings and school shooting politicians. Well I haven’t written the latter but keep a look out.

Class is dismissed, bitch.

Don’t get me wrong. I love to read blogs and there are many good ones out there. But for every interesting one, there are at least 500 ones that actually make me WANT to go back to work.
People seem to be blogging just for the sake of blogging. I mean, C’MON PEOPLE! Your lives are fucked up. All of ours are. Write about it! Make it interesting! Before you post your blog, think to yourself, “What would Captain Kirk do?”

What the fuck are you doing, Kirk?

Do you think Captain Kirk would ever write, “Captain’s log, stardate 2008. Today I bought an iphone. It rocks!!! OMG I was on it all day today! Spock says its lame but he’s just jealous…..and fat. LOL.”
If you’re going to post your thoughts on the web for the world to see, let us in there man! Inquiring minds and shit.
Go ahead, don’t leave a comment. I fucking dare you.