Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Rich Boy, "Throw Some D's"



I'm a little obsessed with this song.

And I'm shocked that no one's laid claim to the name "Rich Boy" until now.

More ridiculousness (literal ridiculousness, not "Damn, Estelle Getty booty ridiculous!" ridiculousness) here.

lou: the dude with the fade looks like ray charles when he's got the sunglasses on

Yeah he does.

Monday, December 18, 2006

Musings in Photo Booth







Kibby's newly acquired Mac is a thing of wonder.

Talk to
AMcK at Springboard Media to get one. For me.

Friday, December 15, 2006

You have fighting spirit



justin:
drew
justin: hey man im really sad
drew: whys that?
justin: umm
justin: i was watching bloodsport last night
justin: and i found out theres a bloodsport 4
justin: when was there ever a bloodsport 2?



drew: haha
justin: did you know that?
drew: i tried to block it out, honestly
justin: they look like the worst movies of all time
drew: there is absolutely no way to top the original. frank fuckin' dux
justin: the one was about sneaking in and breaking out prison inmates who were innocent
justin: i was like, that has nothing to do with bloodsport

Sunday, December 10, 2006

I feel the battle's just begun


Me and you, your momma and Dakota too*

I was up in New York this past weekend attending the DFA Holiday Extravaganza ("color" for an upcoming DIW story). Many thanks to my pal Sasha (aka "Alex") for letting us crash at her place in the Village. I'd been to NY a number of times before, but I learned quite a few things on this trip. Things that are best expressed in list form. (More impressions here.)

- When taking the Chinatown bus from Philly, avoiding sitting within a 10-foot radius of the bathroom at all costs.
- Cabbies reserve the right to refuse you service because they "don't know" where your destination is. New York cabbies are self-serving assholes.
- It's possible for a venue to be within city limits and still be in the middle of fucking nowhere.
- Employees at crappy faux-fair trade coffee houses expect a credit card tip for lazily filling a to-go cup with house blend from one of those giant thermos things.
- If you're stricken with a sudden panic attack on the street, breathe. Just breathe.

The other day, I was walking over to the 7-Eleven by my place, and an older black dude rode by me on his bike. This wasn't in any way out of the ordinary, if you don't count the fact that our boy had a katana strapped to his back. A katana.

I'm pleased to announce that Emil/Emynd, who you might know as Schizophrenic Tenant Number One, one half of White T's and White Belts or that guy who calls everything racist, is back blogging at Crossfaded Bacon. Be sure to check out his limited edition Omar Little tee. Christmas present.

Stev of Prosthetic Foreheads counts down his top 25 wrestlers of the year. I don't have any reason to take issue with him naming Samoa Joe number one, other than that dude's penchant for metal ball necklaces. It's 2006, Joe! Update your neckwear approach. I bet he totally owns the Empire Records soundtrack on cassette.

Bravo has yet to secure Tim Gunn for the next season of Project Runway. If you don't make this work, your network's staff will die by my hand I'm not watching anymore.

Food lead on the wonderful Premium Steap in Center City.

Evil Knievel is suing Kanye, claiming that the "Touch The Sky" video tarnished his image. He might have a case, as Kanye is already the king of tarnishing his own damn image. Still love the guy, though.

Isn't it about time that Verizon added the word "blog" to the T9 predictive text lexicon? As of now, the only options for that combination of keystrokes are "clog," (nothing wrong with that) "almi" and "cloi." How am I supposed to alert my friends when I post updates? If only there were an Internet-based construct that allowed for the sending and receiving of text-based messages. UPDATE: "Blog" now appears! Get out my head with your satellites.

Michelle recently asked me if I ever wished I could frame programming descriptions from the Comcast channel guide. Why yes, yes I do:

The Fallen Ones
Casper Van Dien, Kristen Miller, (2005), The discovery of a gigantic mummy in the desert leads to a clash between good and evil when an archaeologist (Casper Van Dien) faces off with a demonic angel. (Horror, 120 Mins.)

Yep, demonic angel. I watched a little bit of it. Co-stars included Tom Bosley, Robert Wagner and the white City Guy, whose last name, incidentally, is Whyte.

Pete recently posted this incredible Groovisions video.

To the Claymates: I saw your boy Aiken on Scrubs the other day. He was actually really funny.

*Please let me know if you've got a better OutKast reference to go here. That one is really lazy.

Friday, December 08, 2006

Consider this my bye week


Vince pays the ultimate compliment to the Arby's oven mitt

Not that I haven't taken, like, a two-and-half-month bye week in the past.


Lots of work. No time for vapid-but-fun writey. To Brooklyn Friday night. Back to Philly Saturday. Brain pummeling throughout.


Crap TK.

Friday, December 01, 2006

Dammit.



On Sunday, this was pretty funny. It was the first time I'd ever had a seed of Symone planted in my brain without becoming visibly infuriated and punching a hole through a wall.

Come
Friday morning, it's just depressing.

Okay, it's still kinda funny.


Back in the day Before I graduated in May, I worked an on-campus job at school. A girl named Raven also worked there. Whatever action she took, regardless of its context, was deemed "so Raven" by my boss and myself. She's gotta use the bathroom? That's so Raven. Need a pen? Pretty Raven. Wondering who pilfered all the "good stuff" from the complimentary candy box? Also quite Raven. We often wondered if she got that a lot. Which was probably a stupid thing to wonder.

Sorry, Ravens. Sorry, Raven.

(Thanks to Lou for the screencap)

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Measure of a Juan


The high point of my Photoshop career.

The first ever
Trapper Juan Crappily Photoshopped Sombrero Award (TJCPSA forthwith) goes to none other than Clay Aiken and his militaristic-yet-pleasant "Claynation." Let me explain myself.

On a typical day, this POS blog averages between 100 and 150 hits. Even more typically, 75 or so of those hits are just me reloading the page over and over to see if photos or links or whatever show up. Simply, no one ever really visits this rag, save for my peoples linked on the right and pervs searching for naked pictures of Constance Marie (blame
this post). This is all totally fine with me--I just write in here for the fun of it, nothing more.

This past Sunday, I made a generally pointless post about the Clay Aiken/Kelly Ripa nontroversy, fully expecting it to not get any feedback whatsoever. I was real, real wrong. In the hours following the posting, this blog received
1695 hits, along with a slew of Claymate comments you can feel free to read below. Unprecedented! Holy shit.

I had no idea Clay fans were so, for a lack of a better term, gangsta. (I really wish I wasn't lacking a better term at this juncture, but so it goes.) Although I think Ripa (or "Ripacrite," as y'all have taken to calling her) reacted completely inappropriately, I'd be lying if I said I was a fan of the dude's music. I'm just not, you know? His charity work garners obvious kudos, and he seems like a stand-up dude, but his songs? Meh. No offense. Regardless, I find the Claynation's ability to mobilize and work off a shared agenda seriously impressive. And here I thought Michael Jackson fans were so serious. If Clay ever shot for public office or something, I'm pretty sure he'd win based on Claymate poll turnout alone. Hypothetically speaking, the dude could run on a purely sociopathic
"death to Sharp-Pei puppies in sneakers" platform, and I'm pretty sure he'd still oust any pathetic incumbent foolhardy enough to avoid concession before the primary.

That's not to say you Clay people are mindless lemmings. Nothing of the sort. On the contrary, I'm liking the idea that you know what and who you like, and you stick with that shit. Good for y'all. The sincerity of it all is endearing, I gotta admit. I don't really like Clay, and I don't think I ever will. I'm not gonna preorder the guy's albums, and I'm not gonna go see him on tour. I'll probably flip the channel if he comes on the TV. But as long as you keep Clayin' it up, I'll be fine with giving credit where credit is due.


By the way: I'm changing this here blog's name to Trapper Clay, and I'm only going to write about Aiken-related topics from here on out. Just FYI.


********




My favorite linky image, courtesy of
Clay Aiken: The Ideal Idol. Sorry for the strong language. I wish I knew how to replicate the blinking "new!" font.

Sunday, November 26, 2006

Clay > Mother Teresa



The Claynation does not play. Some YouTuber/Clay Aiken fanatic has put together this video, which plays up Clay's charity work as a response to Kelly Ripa's recent freakthefuckoutfornoreason. I knew Clay was into philanthropy and all that, but damn, this video makes him out to be the greatest human being in all of recorded history. Honestly, it does seem like his heart's in the right place, but no amount of charity work is gonna help me forget that bloodcurdling rendition of "Vincent" he did on the Idol way back when. I ain't been able to look at shadows on the hills, trees and/or daffodils the same since.

Some of my favorite highlights noted below:


[:38]
Clay and Jessica Simpson combine efforts to wrest a defenseless child from the arms of Ronald McDonald.
[:59]
Clay has lobbied on Capitol Hill?! Actually impressive. Nice work.
[1:31]
Something about Clay speaking out against bullying. I couldn't focus, as my attention was drawn to his sweater, which is a Faded Glory/Cherokee version of the beautiful outfits in House of Flying Daggers.
[2:19]
Clay's rendition of...you know, I don't know what that's Clay rendition of.
[2:40]
Clay is shown kneeling contemplatively in a room full of sleeping African children covered in what appear to be American Eagle sweaters.
[2:47]
"Clay's hands have counted and sorted beans." (?)
[3:11]
RECORDER FACE!

In the end, only kindness matters.

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Happy Thanksgiving



To commemorate this esteemed American holiday, please read
"Executioner's Song" by Rachel Frankford in this week's City Paper. It's bloody brilliant.

PETA, don't bomb me.

Monday, November 20, 2006

Brought to you by San Miguel



My mom's from the Philippines. Even though I'm but a half-blood Pinoy who was born and raised in the states, I take a certain amount of pride in seeing Filipino people excel in any given field. I celebrate Rufio's entire catalogue, root for the cute but woefully talentless Cassie, tip my cap to DJ Babu and so forth. But I'm convinced that, when we're talking Filipino superstars/proletariat galvanizers, no one can come even remotely close to the roving, ridiculous living legend that is Manny "Pacman"* Pacquiao.

The super featherweight brawler
pretty much ended Erik Morales' career on Saturday night. They'd met twice in the past two years; Morales won the first match, Manny the second. Watch the third (and final) round of the latest fight here. Kinda reminds me of the TKO call ("meek-make-mo") when you knocked down Don Flamenco, Great Tiger or whoever three times in Punch-Out. Fighting prowess aside, the guy's a freaking agenerational sensation, and Filipino mothers probably chuck their daughters at him when he walks down the street. Dude can certainly fight, and he's marketable to boot. But, in my opinion, his fists and footwork aren't what make him so fascinating.

Filipino culture works off a unique amalgam of Hispanic and Asian traditions. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the culture's gender relations, both in the motherland and within Filipino-American families. Ostensibly, the Philippines is a patriarchal society comparable to many Asian cultures: men run the show and love the fact that they do, basking in the glory of victory and sulking in the humilation--essentially, emasculation--of defeat. For everyday proof of this, try going out to dinner with a group of older Filipino men. The macho bickering over who will pay the bill will last well past dessert.


The one major caveat to this dynamic is that it's completely, utterly erroneous. Everyone--and I mean everyone--knows that women truly run the show. It's understood by all, but rarely spoken. It's here that one can draw many parallels between Filipino culture and Mexican culture--men can often come off brash, cocksure and languid, while women (mothers) are perhaps the biggest reason people view both countries as strongly family-centric. Now's a good time to point out that two of the last four Filipino presidents have been women. (The
last man to hold the office was impeached.)

Pacquiao's fighting style is more or less a character study of Filipino masculinity--he's undersized but freakin' relentless, a headstrong, balls-to-the-wall risktaker fond of throwing endless strings of all-over-the-place punches without much regard for his own wellbeing. He's how I'd imagine Ron Artest to be if he was a, uh, boxer. Maybe that's not a good example. Scratch Artest for Bruce Bowen. Anyways, he's also known as a hardcore partier and a rumored womanizer who has been criticized for valuing the limelight over glory on the canvas. Of course, since he's 43-3-2, no one really gives a fuck.


I'm not suggesting that all Filipino (or Mexican) men are boorish, misogynistic assholes who undervalue the contributions females make to society. All I'm saying is I can completely understand why Pacquiao is such a unbridled sensation. Cliche alert: he's more than just a boxer. He represents all the things that many Filipino men hold in high regard, but are often unable to achieve due to a number of forces: fame, bravado, success, domination over all comers. He's a lighter-skinned Jack Johnson, a darker-skinned James J. Braddock. Now that people finally feel comfortable calling him one of the best in the world, pound for pound, I don't really see anything changing for better or worse. Just trust that he'll continue to encapsulate the quirks and qualms that make the Philippines the Philippines.


Then again, maybe I'm just overthinking all this. Go 'head, Manny. We're fucking proud of you. Keep the hits coming.


* No apologies to Adam "Pacman" Jones.


********


In typical Filipino fashion, President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo laid the melodrama on thick with her statement after Pacquiao's victory. "My heart beats with extreme joy with another victory for the Philippines ... we all gathered around in our homes and places of work, in the streets and farms to pray for Manny. Manny will always be our hero, the bearer of the Filipino dream of winning the good fight in all fields of human endeavour. He will always be the people's champ*."


* Apologies to Paul Wall.


********


A few ridiculous tidbits gleaned from
Pacquiao's Wiki page:

-
THE UNDERTAKER was part of his entourage during his 2005 fight against Hector Velazquez.
- He qualified for the final stages of the Philippine 9-Ball Open.

- He owns the PacMan Gensan basketball team, and has even played in a few games for them.

- He totally drinks 10-K.* That's not actually on there, but it pretty much has to be true, what with all his athletic endeavors.

-
Batista is half Filipino? Whaaaaaa?

* If anyone can find an online version of that old 10-K commercial where that alpha-kid plays 10 games (10 different sports) in one day and dominates all of them, please let me know.

Friday, November 17, 2006

Holy flying knees/elbows

Via the perpetually informed Adam Riff:

The trailer for Kon Fai Bin, aka Dynamite Warrior, a Muay Thai Western (!). From Prachya Pinkaew, writer/director of Ong-bak. (Strangely, it's not listed on his IMDB page. Jon?) Quoth the YouTube commenters:

A. "BOOYA!"

B. "dope on ice"

C. " Let's hope the movie isn't a two trick pony, the trailer is just rockets and spinning kicks over and over."

D. " Looks like a martial arts Muay Thai film. Pretty sweet stuff."


a. I have no problem with this comment.

b. This one either. Neither.

c. You've obviously never watched a martial arts flick.

d. This guy seems good at identifying martial arts flicks, provided he's given a few clues (all the actors are Asian, they're fighting each other in a highly stylized manner, every single piece of on-screen verbiage is written in the Thai alphabet, etc.) D, give C your e-mail.


(I'm curious: whose commenters are worse, IMDB's or YouTube's?)


Monday, November 13, 2006

Longest bathroom break ever


........

And I'm back. Feelin' good.

I was checking out the Wiki page for
The Wire the other day, and I came across the character summary for Snoop, who's obviously the gulliest member of Marlo's squad. (See the episode where she fucking shot some dudes just because they didn't know who Young Leek was? Amazing.) Apparently, Stephen King's a fan of the show, and considers her "perhaps the most terrifying female to ever appear in a television series." A pretty serious endorsement, considering that it's coming from the guy who wrote, uh, you know.

Shudder.


Is anyone else seriously unnerved by Stephen King? My most vivid thoughts of him pertain to the time he got
ran over by a van, and just acted real bitter about the shit, going so far as to buy the van and tell Terry Gross that he wanted to pulverize it with a sledgehammer. C'mon King, people get hit by cars all the time. For example, in the past two weeks, two of our esteemed bike-riding City Paper interns were in vehicular mishaps of some consequence. Will got rocked by a cab door, and Sam was just run the fuck over. The driver gave Sam $20 and a bag of pretzels to make up for his carelessness.

Ever hear the one about how Cowboys wideout coach Todd Haley's wife and babysitter "became violently ill and endured long-lasting physical injuries" after eating a McDonald's salad
with a "roof rat" in it? It's a doozy. I have no idea why the Philly sports media didn't pick up on this more; it seems to be the perfect vehicle for Dallas-bashin'. This shit would've never happened if they hadn't done away with salad shakers.

I heart pit bulls, so I was searching for, ahem, cute pit bull puppy videos on YouTube the other day. Getthefuckoutmyface. Anyway, I found
this clip. It's kinda long (you know YouTube has permanently tainted your concept of brevity when 4:25 is long), but please take note of the melodramatic captioning/horrible Evanescence song juxtaposed with pictures of funny, funny dogs.

Shoutout to
Nick Norlen for bringing They Live to my attention. 1) Why haven't I seen this movie before? 2) Where can I get this movie? 3) Who is watching this movie with me once I get this movie? Also, Nick has the distinction of being the only person who can make me feel legitimately bad about enjoying Deal Or No Deal, which I'm totally watching right now. The current contestant is some obnoxious cop with a horrible NY accent that looks a lot like John Rocker. He's the first person I've ever wholeheartedly rooted against.

So the frat guys skewered in
Borat are now suing 20th Century Fox, claiming that he/they made 'em look stupid. For the record, Borat did not force you, against your will, to suggest that the country would be a better place if slavery was reinstated. That was all y'all.

Two earthshattering discoveries via the dregs of MySpace:
1 2

Lastly, be sure to holler at the good people of
The Foundation. They're on the up and up and up. Also, I write a bit for them. Shh.

Thursday, October 26, 2006

If MacGyver was the Surgeon General



Stuff would just make more sense.

Sorry for the extreme lack of blog action lately. I suck. But I'm coming back hard, much like Mark Foley returning from a screening of
The Covenant. Trust.

For now, check me/us on
The Clog.

Hollerate.

Thursday, October 12, 2006

God. Bless. Bollywood.



Every day they hustlin'.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Dear God


The only royal I could probably beat in H-O-R-S-E

The women on this season's Bachelor have achieved new levels of sad. It's bad when you kinda pity the dude who has 25 relatively attractive women fighting over him.

UPDATE: Aw hell naw they just didn't bring two--gasp--Italian girls on! In Rome, no less. Ol' Lorenzo should invest in some Rec Specs to protect his eyes from all the manic gesticulation that's 'bout to happen.

UPDATE 2: One of them is a dancer (she demonstrates!), and the other "study" for a living. Whatafuckinmess.

UPDATE 3: Study girl: "I worry, because I'm here for the prince, and I complete with other girls yes."

God I love it.

Saturday, September 30, 2006

What's your all-time favorite Bill Murray role?



I guess you can pick What About Bob?, but that'd be a bit like saying Point Break is the crown jewel of Keanu Reeves' catalogue raisonné. A-duh, son.

Friday, September 29, 2006

Shameless self-promotion of the hyperlink variety


"BUY MY BOOK!"

(I have the nagging feeling that this isn't the first time I've used an image of
The Riddler Matthew Lesko to lead a post. Sigh.)

Lately, I've gotten out of the habit of linking all my
City Paper stories, mostly because I'm a low-energy kinda guy, and it's a bit presumptuous to boot. BUT, in honor of our stellar 25th anniversary issue (and new website! Shoutout to mensches [menschi?] BH and Marc Steel), here are a couple thang-a-thangs I've penned as of late:

- Story summaries:
1 2 3 (We looked back at some memorable pieces, tried our damndest to encapsulate them in excerpt form and wrote short ledes/conclusions for each. So trill.)
-
Tales From The Truck (Jimmy Pretzels is the dude.)
-
Want Some Moore? (I went around with original CP food columnist Holly Moore and ate a bunch of food. Good times.)
- I, uh, "helped out" with a
Pauly Shore interview. God bless The Wiez.
-
Gettin' Some (I quotheth Sir Young Jeezy: "Yeeeeeahhhhhhh.")
- I've also been doing a bit of posting on the oh-so-revamped
Clog.
- You know what? Eff it all, here's this week's
Feeding Frenzy, too. Aren't you glad that you now know that Spoons Coffeehouse has a full breakfast menu? I know so.

Alright, enough of this. It's my frickin' day off, after all. Onto some even more irrelevant material...


********


Remember when we thought HeadOn (applydirectlytotheforehead)
was a tasteless attention-grabber?

At work awhile ago, I was trying to Google Chapterhouse, a restobar type place in Philly. I couldn't find their website right away; instead, I found
this. Like those VW ads: holy...

I initially found
this to be pretty clever, Rex Kwon Do rip-off be damned. Then, I realized it was produced by a kinda-scary Evangelical org called Fish Food. Eek. (Related: who's coming to see Jesus Camp with me? Shit looks crazy...I cannot wait. I pledge allegiance, to the Christian flag...)

Try it. Just try.

This week, on "you got to admit it's getting bettttahh...":
Philips with the weird dynamic weird graphic color weird tees. Also, did you know LED stands for "light-emitting diodes"? I certainly didn't. If you haven't heard it, it's new to you.

Lastly:



Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Whitlock = the truth


"Solo..."

God bless you, Jason Whitlock. The (now former) Page 2 columnist and occasional Kornheiser-baiting jolly-talkin' head has left ESPN, and now he's torching bridges at speeds comparable to Wonder Boy. I don't know what's more amusing--white Deadspin commenters treading oh-so-softly while cracking middle-of-the-taste-road jokes, or Whit's take on Scoop "In Case You Forgot, Let Me Remind You, In Exceedingly Irritating Terms, That I Am African-African; And Yeah, We Listen To Rap" Jackson:

"
...there’s a big dropoff from being associated with Ralph [Wiley], Hunter [S. Thompson] and Bill [Simmons] than being linked to someone doing a bad Nat X impersonation. It pissed me off that the dude tried to call himself the next Ralph Wiley and stated some shit about carrying Ralph’s legacy. Ralph was one of my best friends. I hate to go all Lloyd Bentsen, but Scoop Jackson is no Ralph Wiley. Ralph was a grown-ass man who didn’t bojangle for anybody. Scoop is a clown. And the publishing of his fake ghetto posturing is an insult to black intelligence, and it interferes with intelligent discussion of important racial issues. Scoop showed up on the scene and all of a sudden I’m getting e-mails from readers connecting what I write to Scoop. And his stuff is being presented like grown folks should take it seriously. Please. I guess I’ll go Bill Cosby on you, but it’s about time we as black people quit letting Flavor Flav and the rest of these clowns bojangle for dollars. There’s going to be a new civil-rights movement among black people and the people bojangling for dollars are going to be put in check."

In the words of Kelso: burn.


(Nice Lloyd Bentsen reference.)

Monday, September 18, 2006

Tie off and find a vein...



...this song opium derivative wants in your bloodstream, like now.

What is it about shamelessly synth-heavy, overwhelmingly vapid SoCal cutesy rollerskate pop that makes me us want to burn all our Bardo Pond albums and start wearing hot purple slip-on Vans? I just don't know. What I do know:


- Hellogoodbye hails from Huntington Beach, Ca., a Coca-Cola-subsidized Cali seaside town that's home to the world surfing championships, my friend Shelly and Tito Ortiz.


- One of these dudes used to babysit Shelly...or Shelly used to babysit his neighbor. Or maybe Shelly babysat the band. I forget, to be honest. I just know that there was some sort of situation involving Shelly, Hellogoodbye and babysitting.


- They were featured prominently on the shit-tastic
Real World: Austin season--the one where they "worked" as "documentary filmmakers" at SxSW. I don't really remember much from this, other than they once spent the better part of an entire episode recording the lead singer playing a banjo in some sand dunes. Or maybe that was just a wonderful, wonderful dream I had.

- I visit my little sister's MySpace page multiple times a day to listen to this fucking song. When it ends, I click the refresh button.


- I have a serious, serious problem.

Sunday, September 17, 2006

Brilliance



Next challenge: converting the Frank Dux/Chong Li final fight scene into a Riesen commercial. (Thanks Kyle)

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Lo siento



Comin' back hard like Vicente Fox before you know it. Why like Vicente Fox? Because ol' boy is guapo like me. And he campaigns for peace. And pan, which I believe means bread in Spanish.

Have fun with this in the meantime. (courtesy of general mensch BH and The Clog)

Sunday, August 27, 2006

Robble robble



So, work's been work. Really great, though. I'm actually here now, on Sunday night, since the Internet's been down at my place (decidedly not Comcastic). But I'm coming back by the middle of this week--you can quote me. In the meantime, enjoy this picture of burger dude, and try your best to get the image unburned from the insides of your eyelids when you're falling asleep tonight.

Thursday, August 17, 2006

It's official

Like a referee with a whistle.
Like a licensed .45 pistol.
Like dude.

Coming soon, like in three hours soon: my first day as a full-time staff member of the City Paper. Of course, in classic Drew style, I can't find my effing social security card anywhere. I turned my apartment over three times, and it's nowhere to be found. I feel as though I might have a repressed memory of Nike chewing the shit out of it when G was conquering Europe, but I'm not sure if that actually happened. I'm trying to get moms to fax me a copy. I'm hoping she comes through; then again, she always does. Shoutout to my mom.

Wish me luck. Please?

This gulliness is included in my job description:


(photo credit: Dragonballyee)

Bless the child



Le sigh...

Saturday, August 12, 2006

Hey, you with the artistic ability



Giant pictures of kittens always draw 'em in. (Via--you guessed it--Cute Overload. Act like you've never gone there.)

I originally posted this as a MySpace bulletin, but then I realized it would make more sense to throw it on here. Get in touch.

Hello--

Anyone out there well-versed in creating blog/website banners? I want on Trapper Juan, but I gots no skills. That template shit is tired.

Hit me up, but only if you've got a bit of free time and you're interested in messing with this idea. (Lo siento for bugging all of you busy-as-hell "employed" people.) As payment, I'll buy you lunch or some drinks or something. What's more, I'll write an ultra-flattering blog post about you, prose rife with pretty-penny half-truths and Bill Braskyian exaggeration. You should know that my blog commands a staggering audience, namely my sister, and maybe Michelle if she's not working.

Please, get your mull on. Thank you much!

A finger on the Pulse of irrelevancy

Am I the only one who finds this Facebook Pulse thing fascinating?



It updates itself daily. This means that, in the span of 24 hours, 12 different La Salle University students decided they didn't like The Cosby Show anymore. What are the odds? On a brighter note, it's good to see Legends of the Hidden Temple is still pulling some new fans, despite the glaring fact that Kirk Fogg is the second-worst gameshow host in history, right behind the dude on Finders Keepers who obviously hated black children. Remember when Kurt rappeled from the ceiling at the beginning? They should've just downsized, leaving Olmec in charge of the whole shebangabang. He had more personality. Let's rock.



Sorry JRR, but today's (literally, today's) college students identify more with this guy. Also, I'd never seen a picture of Tolkien before, so I image-searched him. This was the first result. That dude obviously holds a BA in horrible cartoon dialogue from the Bil Keane Institute of Technology.

I apologize for the horrible screencaps. I don't really know how to do them.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Monday, August 07, 2006

Calling all hippies vegetarians



What are some of the best tofu dishes you've had in Philly? Don't be shy.

Sunday, August 06, 2006

Hips, Facebook don't lie




I pulled this off "The Pulse," a Facebook feature that tracks "trends" based on what students list as their interests. Apparently, "having a good time" is no longer a priority...eff it, let's play some PONG, bro! No re-racks! Also, golf > hanging out with friends.


Related:
Ramen Beer Pong = the most college thing ever. Yo, who's up for Easy Mac body shots?

Buy me Xbox 360

So I can play this:



I don't own a video game system. This, of course, isn't counting the Sega Saturn I got stashed at the parent's crib in MD (NBA Live '97, son...just try and fucks with the Barros-to-DeClercq nolook). Regardless, I still enjoy reading about the latest insanity. And this (no, not Andrew DeClercq) is insanity at its, uh...most insane.

I originally caught this clip of
Dead Rising on Destructoid (a wonderful site, despite its heavy reliance on the infuriating term "gamer"), and I just noticed that Jon from Adam Riff™ granted the game pole position on his supremely informative omnibus-esque sidebar. From him: "Play as a photojournalist trapped in a shopping mall with thousands of zombies. Designed to be totally open-ended, the game allows you to investigate whatever you want, kill whoever you want and finish the game by completing whatever objectives you see fit."

Disregarding the obvious appeal of playing as a
photojournalist (remember the old Spiderman games?), DR sounds like the balls for a number of reasons. First and foremost, it's got lots of zombies, but it doesn't come across thinky, a la the Resident Evil series. Of course, by thinky, I mean "capable of making Drew freak out and forget what all the buttons do each time more than one enemy an enemy appears on the screen." Ah, screw Resident Evil.

Anyways, the fluidity aspect is enticing as well. Imagine having the contents of an entire mall at your disposal. In this preview alone, dude lays out undeadizens via:


chainsaw

Samurai sword (Chesapeake Knife & Tool much?)

hockey stick (and puck)

a patio 'brolly

The Bulldog

latex paint!

acoustic guitar

lawnmower

sledgehammer

some type of pole
orange juice (not from concentrate)
those things you use to put fenceposts into the ground

Also, the clip's disclaimer ("this game contains scenes of graphic violence and extreme gore") ranks as the most egregious understatement since a friend of mine described
The Quest as "somewhat similar to Bloodsport."

Jesse, if you're out there: I'm coming over to play this forthwith. You've been warned.

(Do all photojournalists know martial arts, or is that just a stereotype?)

Friday, August 04, 2006

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Number one answer



I'm no author, but did it really take two dudes to write this book, especially when one of them is nerd messiah Piers Anthony? (source via Secret Dead Blog) Regardless, John Striker seems like a catch, and he slightly resembles John Saxon circa Enter The Dragon.

Haha, Ken Jennings has a blog. I came across it via this story, which is getting blown way out of proportion by shit media outlets like People, which I definitely read every week. I admire KJ's tongue-in-cheek candor, but certainly don't appreciate sad cases of mistaken identity.

Via Liz, one of the classiest PR gals around: Bad Pitch Blog, which chronicles hapless coverage attempts by some inept free pub whores. This one's great.

I initially found this recent Bayless piece on Charles Barkley's gubenatorial dreams to be typical Skip fare--you know, all "whatever you think, I'm going to think the opposite just to be a dick," et cetera. The more I read, however, the more I realized that dude is borderline delusional and a tad racist: "It also isn't at all a stretch to imagine many other African-American athletes or coaches running a state. Magic Johnson would be a phenomenal governor. Grant Hill would be a politician you could trust. So would Tony Dungy or Avery Johnson or Mike Singletary. I could go on and on."

So basically, the only black athletes that would make good politicians are the ones who don't project traditionally "black" values or personae. Obey Your Thirst's shot-to-shit knees wouldn't hold up one week in office. Also, does he really think MAGIC JOHNSON would be a phenomenal governor? Skip To My obviously never watched The Magic Hour.

Vote Crunchy Black in '08.

They're making a new Bruce Lee biopic starring...Stephen Chow. This could be brilliant, but only if it's a genreless laugh romp combining elements of spaghetti westerns and Looney Tunes.

So much CP:

Vintage (from last week)
Skip Williamson
One Track Mind: Muse "Supermassive Black Hole"
Top 5 Fries
Starfleet International Conference
Toyota Yaris
"Familiar Faces"
"The War On 20th Century Art"

I was looking through my Statcounter thing the other day, and I noticed that one visitor to the site arrived here via South Africa Is Crap, a blog chronicling information about why Dave Matthews' Charlize Theron's home country is a "failed 'Rainbow' nation [declining] into a Turd World Hellhole." Ambitious, and quite convincing. Eff South Africa.

My e-brethren Dallas Penn has been getting tons of well-deserved attention for his brilliant Ghetto Big Mac video, but don't sleep on his ability to get you all misty. That, and his penchant for creepy Opus Dei group pictures. I'm going to try the GBM trick at the McD's down the street sometime soon. I think the employees there will appreciate my hustle.

I like some Owen Wilson on-screen, but he seems like a complete ass in real life. First off, he's from Texas, and y'all know how they can be. Second, his recent comments regarding Steely Dan's plagiarism accusations scream douche: "I have never heard the song `Cousin Dupree' and I don't even know who this gentleman, Mr. Steely Dan, is. I hope this helps to clear things up and I can get back to concentrating on my new movie, `HEY 19.'"

Owen obviously knows that Steely Dan isn't one person. Don't you remember the scene from Armageddon where he complains to the shrink about people who think Jethro Tull is a single dude, and not a collective? He's just trying to be an asshole on purpose. Then again, I wouldn't leave Steely Dan alone in my kitchen, for fear that they'd sprinkle caustic chemicals over the contents of my refrigerator. Are you reelin' in the years...

Sasha (who now goes by Alex, apparently) doesn't think she's eloquent when it comes to analyzing movies. But just read her take on the universally reviled Lady In The Water (23 percent!). Her opinion's as apt as any seasoned film critic's, Bob Balaban notwithstanding:

"What I love about M. Night is he gives a pretty ridiculous situation and says, 'Okay, so this probably wouldn't happen...but what if? How would real people react in this absurd situation I've given you? What if a fucking kid could see dead people? What if aliens attacked the earth? What if you found out your parents lied to you, and you're really living in a modern world?' Here, I couldnt do that. I didn't get what he was trying to say about the human condition because there was too much fantasy...and if there was social commentary, I missed it."

Saturday, July 29, 2006

Write your own caption.

















Or, what are Bruce and Chong Li thinking?

Friday, July 28, 2006

Reef The Lost Cauze, "The Sound Of Philadelphia"



Hey, there's my apar...no, that's not my apartment. Nevermind.

Monday, July 24, 2006

Trapper's One



(Graham, who created the original TJ image we all know and love, was kind enough to whip up this birthday version for me. Graham is the Takeru Kobayashi of Photoshop.)

Yup...today marks one year of Trapper Juan. Here's my very first post. I've made an effort to stop rambling so much. It's strange to note how much stuff has changed:

- A year ago, I had just started writing for Okayplayer. Here's my first review; again, I've learned to (somewhat) curtail the ramble. Since that time, the editor who brought me on quit, and I somehow managed to summon the ire of Pumpkinhead fans across the land. All four of them. (Just for the record, I still think Pumpkinhead's album sucks.) It was through here that I ended up writing a little bit for Rockpile. I still do stuff for OKP here and there. Ginny, that review I owe you is seriously coming, I swear.

- A year ago, I was still deciding whether or not I should apply for an internship with City Paper. In fact, this blog played a small role in me landing said internship. Here's my first CP article. I somehow managed to parlay my experience into a pretty regular freelance hustle, including some work with the excellent DIW and a weekly gig as a restaurant columnist. Who knew? I certainly didn't. My food knowledge has increased...slightly. For example, thanks to David Ansill, I now know what osso bucco is. Grazie, Dave.

- If you Googled my name a year ago (don't front like you ain't Googled yourself), you'd find stuff like the 2002 results from the Chattanooga Area Swim League (apparently, I tallied a paltry 10 points for the woeful 0-4 Hamilton Club) and the Myspace of a band called Meriwether that features separate members named "Drew" and "Lazor." Now, my crap writing appears sporadically on sites ranging from Sonny Boy's to Harrah's to Wang Newton's. Weird.

Okay, so maybe stuff hasn't changed all that much. Still, I feel pretty good about my accomplishments, however modest they may be. I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank the people who have helped me grow over the past year, professionally or otherwise. Y'all are truly great. And, of course, thank you to the people who read this poor excuse for a blog, even though I know most of you accidentally come here while searching for pictures of Juelz Santana or Constance Marie topless or whatever.

Here's to a year of terrible captions, cluttered thoughts, stolen bandwidth, unintelligible backpack-rap releases, poorly structured opinion pieces, kitty pictures, forced movie references and categorically presumptuous hotlinking.

And, last but not least...gratuitous YouTube content embeddage. Thanks again--seriously. Cheers.



(Madge Sinclair = fine.)

Friday, July 21, 2006

Bikini Kill



This fella, one Louis Reard, invented the bikini 60 years ago this month. "A bikini is not a bikini unless it can be pulled through a wedding ring," he once quipped. Dear Louis, you are the dude. We salute you. And your Morty Seinfeld glasses.

Can someone please buy me the The Unofficial MacGyver How-To Handbook? It's a revised second edition, too.

I'm sure some of you have dreamed of becoming "YouTube famous," and let me assure you that there's nothing wrong with thinking big. It's just that some people I know are doing it bigger than others. Take, for example, my buddy Murtaugh (no relation to Danny Glover from Lethal Weapon), whose alcohol-induced, expletive-ridden tirade against some dumb WVU blonde makes for uber-pleasing viewage. Then, there's Oh My Todd, whose wealth of MySpace friends and kiddie-shirt-rocking prowess is matched only by his ability to appear in an oft-aired Comcast commercial. I saw that shit about a million times before realizing it was him. You can also catch a shot of Todd's head in Lady In The Water, which everyone hated but I really liked.

Philly's Icon The Mic King recently got himself into a pretty bad bike accident, which he chronicled here, complete with harrowing pictures. Sorry about that, man: get well soon.

Nick, my favorite contestant from last year's Project Runway (shut up, you know you watch it) is doing episode recaps for People online. "Meanwhile, Vincent "My Model Has a Hat that Looks Like a UFO Made out of a Basket" got stuck with Angela "I Am an Organic Farmer Who Breeds Gowns Instead of Cows." From the beginning, they were repelling like Diana Eng's magnets (remember her from last season?)!" Ah, classic Nick. I love that guy.

I wanted to point out the upcoming Skip Williamson retrospective at Trinity Art Gallery beginning August 4. Skip is the dude.

Doesn't this sound like the coolest multiplayer video game ever? Not that I'd play it. That shit's for the birds.

CP, all day:

Not by me: a great Q&A with crossword genius Matt Gaffney.
Dragon Gate Wrasslin'
"BooBies" (originally mentioned here)
One Track Mind: Mars Volta, "Viscera Eyes"