Back in the Day is the Way

Is it me, or are movie producers increasingly digging the notion of comic book series-turned-movies? Iron Man, The Hulk, and now Hell Boy: The Golden Army. It seems to be a fad in the theaters these days. Lure the super-geeks into seeing their Marvel or whatever brand of hero dodge bullets, size dudes up, morph into immortals at lighting-quick pace, and create flat-out chaos while toting weapons of all sort.

That’s intriguing.

You want to know what I’m increasingly digging? Another high school perv movie. Not so much a high school perv movie like Superbad, American Pie, and others of this ilk, but a flick about kids in their ripest stage of high school youth.

We were at Starbucks in Ardsley, N.Y., last night— Myself, my brother, and two of our buddies from back in the day. These men graduated high school in 2002 but still perused the goods of the buffet-line of high school kids that hang around Starbucks at night.

Hello? What the fuck are you doing hanging out outside of a Starbucks during your rebellious, me-against-the-cops/world high school days? Find one of your buddies mansions, purchase a keg, and have a ripper. And tape it.

Seriously, we need more oldworld films like Dazed and Confused, the 1993 masterpiece that starred Jason London and included household names like Matthew McConaughey and Ben Affleck. A young and prosperous Parker Posey and Joey Lauren Adams also made their imprint known in this film, the former playing that classic bitch senior who is sexy as all get-out but nasty as all hell.

We need to resurrect those type of movies. Movies like Fast Times At Ridgemont High or even National Lampoon’s Senior Trip. This was a popular flick during my high school heyday.

I’ll never forget seeing Tommy Chong playing the bus driver, Red.

I remember the discussion we had when we perused the goods at the Starbucks parking lot last night. Why is this scene so depressing? Why are these girls so incredibly hot? Why do they all have the nicest asses? Creepy, sketchy, barely legal hawk-like gazing that we should be cited for…Call it whatever you would like.

Still, it allowed us all to hark back on when we were freshman and plunged into the high school scene. How callow did we feel? We are in classes with these lava-hot seniors on a whole different echelon as us, having intercourse with older men on a pretty frequent basis and revealing thongs of pink and blue luster as they strut along the hallways.

They were women amongst pre-pubescent boys. It was really a crazy transition and it’s intriguing to see it from both sides of the spectrum. Anyways, that classic high school film, and I’ll use Dazed and Confused as the alpha dog in movies of this genre needs to re-emerge.
We need a movie about the brotherhood of young boys, beers, and breasts. We know they killed the American Pie series (Stifler was really off-the-wall in the last one). There is still hope that another great teenage film—centered on partying, drinking, sex, sex, and sex—will crack the earth’s stratosphere.

A flick that accurately portrays the sudden leap from eighth to ninth grade. Dazed And Confused pinned it down perfectly, knocking us of our boots with the character of Mitch Kramer. That was an efficient account of a character mastering the inevitable adjustment of video game sleepovers to keg parties and easy hook-ups.

Epic.

How long will it take before this finally materializes? How many more movies about a gruesome monster with some kind of weirdo power will I have to endure before my wish is granted?

We are all waiting….

-SMIZZ

In Godson We Trust

After controversial debate about the original title of Nasir Jones’ newest album, the undisputed king of New York decided to release his eighth LP Untitled.

“The fact that the word is no longer [the title], it’s a bigger statement,” Nas proclaimed about the decision to withdraw “Nigger” as the name of the album on the Angie Martinez show; which you can watch in its entirety online at defjam.com.

Mr. Jones continues to express that his concern is focused more on the music than just the title during his exclusive interview on the notorious radio show. Although the word isn’t present on the cover, there is an extremely suggestive portrayal of slave endured lesions in the form of an “N” on the back of the artist himself. Along with the lyrics of each and every symphonic triumph on Untitled, Nas makes you think even when viewing the album cover.

Upon listening to the album, one cannot help but hark back to Illmatic, Mr. Jones’ rookie LP which received the illustrious five mic decoration from, the then perilously acclaimed, Source Magazine. The impermeable rhymes and fluid delivery of Nasty Nas’ lyrics brings a sigh of relief from all the mind-boggling garbage they allow on the radio today (i.e.: Soulja Boy, T-Pain, and Ray-J just to name a minor fraction of an exceedingly long list).

Advice from The Infamous Lawfirm is to go out either to your local compact disc distributor or iTunes and purchase this magnum opus; it might be the only real Hip-Hop you will hear until either Jay-Z, Kanye West or Lil’ Wayne release another album.

On behalf of the Hip-Hop and Rap community, I would like to thank you Nasir Jones for single-handedly saving the music from the destruction of ill-witted lyrics and untalented amateurs that pollute my airwaves with their filth.

-Drew

The Comeback Kid

He’s back like Frank White. After a two-year hiatus—one that was filled with controversy, drama, and a pair of arrests that threatened to taint his image—Busta Rhymes is back in the game.

Last month marked the unleashing of Blessed, a title that’s symbolic of his triumph for return. Busta must have fended off some waves of anxiety after his body guard was killed outside a video shoot. A recent article in Maxim Magazine documents that ultra-ugly violence that emerged between Tony Yayo (In latest news, G-Unit is still garbage. D-BLOCK…D-BLOCK…D-BLOCK you frail bitches!) and an enemy producer.

Nick Catucci, who authored the piece, claims that this incident jump-started a relentless streak of problems.

Busta, whose actions garnered a great deal of scrutiny and criticism, mainly from the white media (the NY Post wrote an article titled “Busta Crimes” in 2007 in which the author opined, “He needs to do some jail time”), is back with a vengeance in Blessed.

Busta Bust seems to have taken his title to heart. In the album, he doesn’t do much to resurrect old, Busta-like jump-offs (bitch, grab ya tits come on!).
The overall harmony of some of Busta’s new tracks seem as regal as the album title.
He has one song with a piano feature to it. In another joint, Mr. Rhymes employs Michael Jackson’s sample voice. The storied Jackson clan’s 1976 hit, “Show You The Way To Go” provides an intriguing punch to the song “Let Me Show You.”

Lyrics of the week: It should serve as no surprise that I would choose a lyric by Q-borough’s finest as the LOW. Simply put, the pure, rapid-fire he was
spittin’ back in the nineties was leaps-and-bounds better than any of the competition (my bad, hovito). And while Illmatic was the album that vaulted him to rap’s upper-echelon, Nas kept it coming with It was written. Thus, albeit a back-in-the-day joint, Nas’ eyebrow-raising verbal blood-lettering in “If I Ruled The World” have been chosen for the week of 7/14-7/18.
“Trips to Paris, I civilized every savage/
Gimme one shot I turn trife life to lavish/
Political prisonners set free, stress free /
No work release purple M3's and jet skis/
Feel the wind breeze in West Indies/
I make Coretta Scott-King mayor the cities and reverse fiends to Willies/
It sounds foul but every girl I meet would go downtown/
I'd open every cell in Attica send em to Africa

Wooooo. As Nasqaq himself likes to say it, “pure fiah.”

-Smizz

Live At The Hollow

I was enjoying myself alongside the Delaware shoreline when I encountered a friend who informed me about the Great Bootleg Bust.
According to my buddy, Smoke, as I call him (this cat burns down more trees than Vermont and has an affinity for Black-and-Milds and swisher sweets when the chronic isn’t on hand. He was actually scouring the beach boardwalk area for some floppy-haired skaters that could peddle some wares to him.
Anyway, the Great Bootleg Bust entailed a rangy African man with a thick accent. This man was arrested for making a boat-load of bootlegs and a boatload of bootlegs, time and time again.
This immediately allowed a hilarious scene in First Sunday to surface. I’d highly recommend this film. It was nice to finally see Tracy Morgan in his own defined role. He was gut-rupturing funny during his brief stint in How High, the 2001 stoner comedy starring Method Man and Redman. A Field Of Dreams parody adds flavor to the flick, but in First Sunday Morgan really flees from the tunnel of obscurity.
Now back to the bootlegs. If you are really intrigued by the notion of a bang for your buck, hit up Harlem and 125th St. in Manhattan for the latest and greatest. Some of these grainy replica joints are actually quite legit. As one salesmen likes to say it down there, “if the shit ain’t the clearest, I don’t got it.”
Clearly, it’s a safe heaven for cheap products in their most appreciable form.
Old School Sci-Fi Not Dead Yet
So, Terminator 2 was on TV for the first time in politician’s age the other day. The first R-rated flick the Smizz man was ever exposed to as a frail and callow kindergartner. The flick still engenders the same response from me. This is top-tier acting by AHNnold and Robert Patrick, whose performance emulating a god damn machine cop is unprecedented. I was mentioning to my buddy G, who bears a striking resemblance to the founding father of this website, that the violence in the opening scene is pretty legit for that epoch (1992).
Ahhnold has his way with a bunch of rednecks at the bar, bodying them to the tune of one stabbing, a royal beatdown, and a flat-out jumping. Edward Furlong is a little baby-faced, having-causing teen in this joint, and he rolls with the redhead that played Butnick on Nickelodeon’s Salute Your Shorts. They are a couple of badass little kids in this flick, as you may know.
Reiterating what I said before it still manages to light up my eyes like mini-fireballs, or like a movie starring Asia Carrera and Jenna Jameson.
Now I’m sitting in my room watching Total Recall (1990). Ahnoldd bodies up in this film as well, which emerged before T2 which is just as badass with its outrageous action.
Sharon Stone is simply at her best in this one, a lava-hot blonde that engenders cement-hard third legs from all of us cats watching.
Still, Rachel Ticotin punched most of the tickets back then. The Bronx-bred bombshell (who also appeared in Con Air and a plethora of TV episodes), hard as it is to come to grips with, is now 50.
Back then, however, she was a Spanish smoke-show. If she is Spanish, that is.
Just like Hip-Hop on Power 105.1, back-in-the-day joints are still very much alive.
Scintillating.
-Smizz

The Incredible Hulk

Tim Roth fell off like Shawn Kemp. The one-time Boy Wonder (see Tarantino, Quentin for more details) gives a dreadful account of himself during his latest piss-poor performance. Roth stars as the nemesis of the Hulk, a tatted up punk who morphs into machine to combat his primary target. It’s about as entertaining as softcore, HBO smut.
I had a Green Monster energy drink en route to the Greenburgh Movie Complex in Greenburgh, N.Y. I recall such an event because it was the first time I’ve gone to see a flick at a movie theater in a hooker’s age (freebies on surfthechannel.com and youtube have made my entertainment life much more fiscally feasible and allowed me to catch my flick-of-choice in the cozy confines of my couch). Anyway, I copped this green monster and slugged it with reckless abandon as I anticipated a film about…well….a fucking green monster!
The wild sugar bomb I flushed down prior to the film would pay no dividends, however, as it sucked more dick than Jim McGreevy. Now I’m not a big Marvel buff, haven’t been big on the comic book scene since I was a seven-year-old with an affinity for the Silver Surfer and a penchant for wanting to stick my then-little cock into Ghost Rider (she’s a chick, isn’t she? Before they made the flick wasn’t she a chick I remember hearing this one Halloween and right now the thought of a gat-toting, ultra-fit chick dodging bullets and creating a badass scene gets me harder than the Chemistry Regents. Super sexy. Man, I really need to see Wanted again).
Anyhow, a crummy plot, IQ-less-than-your-hat-size (unless of course your Barry Bonds or a guido gym rat) situations, all-too-predictable dilemmas, and poor acting from just about every party except the exceptional Edward Norton helped make this brain-numbing script (penned by Zak Penn) a stinker. I’m not sure how the review process went for it, I see IMDB gave it a 7.6 out of 10 though, a reputable score indeed.
To be candid, the only aspect of the film which elicited a response from me was the jiggle joints on Liv Tyler. That rack is stacked like a New York City attorney. Wow. The old school rocker’s daughter has come quite a long way since that one night at McCool’s (they severely overhype her hotness in that movie, which was produced when she was just coming up and registering her presence and chesticles to the outside world) and Armageddon. She has filled out and added on hotness since that early epoch and I’d say her stock has risen at the same pace as my high-school girl hunting wangus when I picture her in the nude.
Anyway, let me fend off these ADD waves which are beginning to splash the shoreline. Let’s get back to the once-legendary Tim Roth.
As a kid in the early nineties, Roth took the world by fire with his uncharted swag and undaunted showing in the aforementioned Tarantino’s 1992 hit, Reservoir Dogs. The film, which was essentially the one Tarantino blew up on (though I know he had a hand in True Romance, the 1991 thriller that emerged back when Christian Slater still knew how to act and not grab chicks asses New York City. This was also during an era when Brad Pitt was still a relatively unknown. He played a scatter-brained, headed-right-for-the-bottom stoner that rips bong hits and crushes beers while living on the couch of Michael Rappaport’s home).
Tarantino, he of the brolic chin and affinity for dialogue as regal as his otherworldly violence, tells the tale of a patchwork group of cement-hard criminals (all of whom go by a color alias) slated to pull off a diamond heist. Things get out of control and a whole new situation surfaces once the caper fails miserably. A then-young Michael Madsen (I’d say he gained about 60 pounds given his still relatively recent performance as a hillbilly jiggle joint bouncer in Kill Bill 2) reels off a relentless shooting rampage, Freddy Newandyke (Mr. Orange) gets near-murked after a fat old lady pops one in his belly, and, in a strange twist of events, Mr. White (played by a young, gangster version of Harvey Keitel) commits his life to making sure Mr. Orange doesn’t pass on him. Keitel’s subversive character almost turns gay while displaying his compassion for Mr. Orange, as many might conclude.
The fact of the matter is, however, Mr. Orange got hit with a bullet that Mr. White could have prevented. Thus, he feels he owes it to Mr. Orange to save his last breaths. It’s out of self-respect and respect for his own manhood.
You don’t get much better acting than Tim Roth in Reservoir Dogs, as he goes undercover to solve the great Joe Cabot (the boss of the group of educated thugs who strings together the caper with the help of his son “Nice Guy Eddie,” who is played by the late Chris Penn. Random Fact: Penn’s voice is an instant staple in the video game: Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. I know this because my scatterbrained roommate freshman year was glued to the couch playing it 24/7 because he had the social aptitude of a turtle and he couldn’t score a chick that didn’t tip the scales at 300 pounds or above for the life of him).
If you watch Roth’s acting during the commode story scene (the scene which he sells the cons on his gangster resume and his resiliency during one significant, near-cuffed situation), you’ll find it’s like poetry-in-motion.
Under the tutelage of his boss, he absorbs and memorizes an intriguing anecdote about a drug dealer during the supposed Great Chronic Scare. The scene starts out in a swanky California diner and ascends into the ballsy cop’s apartment, where he’s awaiting the thugs—all of whom have a penchant for telling campfire-like stories and utilizing dictionary, SAT words, mixing them in with their workaday crime lingo sporadically. The old-school Sandy Rogers tune “Fool For Love” plays in the background. Classic.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-xKD8KmpQDQ
Tell me that’s not fucking first-rate acting! Reiterating what I previously stated, this snarky British accent-having cat was boy wonder back then, and that performance was certainly a portent of bigger roles. It launched him to the role of Ringo in Pulp Fiction. He was also the star of Tarantino’s nuttiest and least recognized pieces of work, Four Rooms, in which he plays a bell hop in a hotel on New Year’s eve. The film is four different stories packaged into one. It features a star-studded cast, a fad in QT’s original flicks (see Brown, Jackie). Everyone from Madonna to Bruce Willis had a part in this low-budget laugher but Roth was truly awesome and hitting his pinnacle in full force at this era. The fact that Tarantino chose Roth as the centerpiece of this high-rent cast is indicative of how much he thought of him.
Now Roth appears to be just another so-and-so, nearing the big 50 and wash-up territory. Let’s face it folks, he hasn’t been in anything significant over the past decade really. The British-bred cat who was nominated for best actor for his supporting role in the 1995 drama Action-Drama Rob Roy has left his best days behind him at this point.

Mitch Mullany Dead At 39:
I could hardly believe the bad news myself. The hilarious comedian/actor who originally appeared as “White Mike” on the Wayans Bros show engendered outbursts of laughter from me time and time again when I was 15. I watched him play Derek King, a white irish kid brought up by an all African-American family in South Central Los Angeles, in the 1999 comedy, The Breaks. His character is gut-busting funny and I learned that Mullany actually wrote this gem. I also watched some of his hilarious standup and I recall his impressions were quite off-the-wall. He was a comical genious, one that definitely made waves in the African-American community despite the fact that he was a pale white dude. As the tagline from The Breaks (a movie I craved in high school and college) has it, “he’s a brother who pales by comparison.”
I believe a colossal sign was hung at the Laugh Factory—one of the many houses he rocked with laughter— that reads “R.I.P. Mitch Mullany. Make God Laugh.”
Those who were fortunate enough to treat their stomachs to any of his performances know he will.
These Boots
I’ll be true with you. In my lifetime, there are two non-smut movies I have purchased strictly for bathroom duties. The first was Monster’s Ball with the scintillating Halle Berry scene. The second was The Dukes Of Hazard, a flick I still haven’t scene in its entirety. As you may know, Jessica Simpson is lava-hot in this and certainly register’s her smoking body in a major way. So, I discovered this extra footage while perusing the goods necessary to elicit a JO session this morning and this is what I stumbled upon: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ouHinY4KyyU&feature=related.
Feast your eyeballs, fellas.
Needless to say, this content is unreal. Tony Romo is one lucky motherfucker.
-Smizz

Wanted Lives Up To Its Billing

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Sam Sparro

Who said white boys don’t have soul? Sam Sparro is on a mission to turn that perception on its head. Don’t take it from us; an extraordinary soul singer commented on a young Sparro exclaiming, “Damn, that white boy can sing!” after she received a private performance from Sparro of a new gospel song. The woman who was blown away by the vocal capacity of the 10 year old boy went by the name of Chaka Khan.

This former child actor bounced back and forth from L.A to his native city of Sydney, Australia with his gospel singer/recording artist of a father, Chris Falson, before he made a trip to a city that has intrigued him since he was young; London. He quickly adapted to the London life submerging himself into the British music scene.

It wasn’t until Sparro was forced to move back to L.A and take a job in a coffee shop when he wrote his second single, “Black and Gold,” that has caught the attention of millions of people around the world and is currently climbing the charts at a magnificent pace. His music is described as a mixture of soul, electro, and funk creating the distinctive sound that is Sam Sparro.

“I’m just a guy who likes to sing and wear fun clothes, who wants to have a laugh and wants everyone to get along,” He describes himself.

In a time where every song sounds exactly the same, Sparro brings a breath of fresh air. Keep your ears open as Sparro infiltrates your car radios in the near future; if you can’t wait that long, you can experience his refreshing sound on iTunes or visit his MySpace page at myspace.com/samsparro.

-Drew

Don't "Mess" with the Zohan

The brilliant comedic actor who blessed the world with great characters such as Bobby Boucher, Happy Gilmore, and Billy Madison is back to introduce his latest addition to his immense arsenal of comedic personalities.

Zohan Dvir, played by Sandler, is a Mossad super-agent who decides to fake his own death in order to escape the grasp of his war-driven country and follow his dream of becoming a New York City hair stylist. Sounds like a semi-funny plot that could turn into an extremely funny movie with the sumptuousness comedic aptitude of Sandler.

Nothing prepared The Infamous Lawfirm for the monstrosity of a movie that was released to the innocent eyes of the public on June 6^th, 2008. Due to the fact each member of the Lawfirm paid twelve dollars to witness this train wreck of a movie on the big screen, we stayed for the entire 113 painful laugh less minutes of the worst movie of Adam Sandler’s exceptional career; maybe the worst movie of the new millennium.

Zohan is filled with horrible accents as well as enough racism to make you turn in your seat is if you were participating in a murder interrogation. Not only was this movie not funny, but the story line didn’t make sense and nothing involved in this movie was consistent. Our concurring advice to the Sandler fans that have yet to see this movie: SAVE YOUR MONEY!

Our love for Sandler movies have not been phased a bit; he has and will continue to make the world laugh with innovative gut-busting performances in the future. As for the present, Mr. Billy Madison is sitting on a disappointing goose egg.

-Drew