Thursday, February 26, 2009

Ashing Those Wednesdays

Today was Ash Wednesday, which is the day where Catholics smear dirt on there foreheads for no particular reason. It is the first day most of them go to church all year, and they get dirty.

Very dirty.

The idea of Ash Wednesday has always escaped me. I have asked my Catholic friends to try and explain it to me, but I find that I have a hard time understanding things when I’m not paying attention. It’s not that I’m not interested in what Ash Wednesday is all about. I just get really bored whenever people start to explain it to me. So after some soul searching and midget tossing I decided that I would research Ash Wednesday and try to explain it to everyone else who has the same problem as I do.

According to Wikipedia: “Ash Wednesday is the first day of Lent and occurs forty-six days before Easter…Ash Wednesday gets its name from the practice of placing ashes on the foreheads of the faithful as a sign of repentance.”

Now is it me, or does that sound like a bunch of baloney?

I’m not saying that isn’t a noble reason to put dirt on your face, I just think there is a little more to it than that. I realized that my research was going to have to branch out a little farther than the Internet, so I called up my old Catholic School priest.

Me: Hello Father O’Malley?
FOM: This is the Padre of Malleyville…who be this I be talking to?
Me: Father its me, Andrew Johnson. I used to go to school at St. Anthony’s.
(Silence on the other end.)
Me: I was the only kid there that wasn’t a Catholic in the history of the school.
(Sounds of belching and muffled farts in the background.)
Me: We got trashed on the Communion wine together. You told me you always wanted to be a pop singer.

Me and the FOM on my 11th Birthday

FOM: Ah! Andrew me wee lad. How do you be?
Me: Well Father I’m doing well, but I was just wondering if maybe you could explain what Ash Wednesday is about.
(Silence on the other end.)
Me: Father?
(More silence)
Me: Papi O’ Malleydog?
FOM: Oh I heard ya lad. Don’t be digging around things ye don’t understand.
Me: But, Father of Dudesville
FOM: You’re getting too deep! Stop now!
(Phone is slammed down, but not hung up. For the next several minutes I listen to the Father have a bowel movement, microwave his cheese hot pocket, and sing show tunes into what I think was a bottle of Draino.)

It was odd for the Father of Whinoland to give me the cold shoulder. Against his advice I decided to keep digging, and after some careful deliberation I was able to come to only one conceivable conclusion...

The Ashes protect against Vampires.

Sexy Vampires

It makes sense doesn’t it? What better defense against Vampires is there? And it lasts for 40 days! That’s a long time to keep your forehead dirty, but its worth it to keep you neck hole-less.

When it comes to Vampires you can never be too careful. We know of the basic defenses such as a cross, stake to the heart, and (if you’ve seen The Lost Boys) very large stereos.

If garlic is able to protect you from the lifeless bastard Vampires, why can’t the Ashes of Jesus?

That is what they’re supposed to be right? It couldn’t possibly be something stupid like burned palms could it?

What? It is?


Regardless, you take a holy symbol like a forehead cross, you could head butt you’re attacking Nosferatu in the jaw and send him packing back to hell.

So thank you Catholic church. You have given us a great defense against the undead. This bottle of holy communion wine is on me.


Tuesday, February 24, 2009

A Love Letter for the Ages

As you know its very hard for me to be open with people. I've always had a hard time expressing my feelings, especially to you. I have to be honest, I thought it was over between us, that's why I moved on. Yes, I know I am married. She is a wonderful person and she loves me dearly, but deep down she knows that you were always first in my heart.

So now I'm going to say it: I still love you. I have tried to replace you with so many women, but when I saw you this past weekend, I knew that I should never have let you go...
I love you..

...Natalie Portman.

When I saw you standing next to Ben Stiller at the Academy Awards, my heart dropped into my stomach and out my ass. It then got up, bitch slapped me, called me a homo, then went to eat as much sodium as it could.

Lets stop kidding around, you and I are crazy about each other. This game of cat and mouse has to end. I pursued, and you pursued and I withdrew.

And so we danced.

But, tonight it ends. Tonight I say lets just go for it, lets just run away. You're always talking about going to Israel...or something stupid like that. It sounds dumb to me, but I'd do anything for you. Lets go there! I think I've got about $40 bucks saved, that will get us there won't it?

We'll disguise ourselves so no one will recognize us as the beautiful actress Natalie Portman, and the hilarious blogger/public benefits advocate Andrew Johnson. We already know you can pull off the bald chick look. Hell, I'll even shave my head so you won't feel left out. Why would I do that?

Because, I love you.

Cutest cancer patient ever.

Throw some blue paint on us, just for the hell of it. Then you, me and our best friend Patrick Stewart can tour the world as some sort of annoying musical group.

Look I know what you're thinking...this is crazy. You don't want to just up root your life for me, and I understand that. But, I know what my heart wants...and it wants you. You can't deny our chemistry either...were like Cinderella and her glass slipper...a perfect fit.

Unfortunately we are also like a glass slipper in that every time we try to put weight on our relationship it shatters into a million pieces. It's such a shame always thought we would have such adorable kids together.

How can you deny the world by refusing to create this with me?

Natalie I know this is hard, but we are destined to be together. You shouldn't be with that douchey looking guy I've seen you smooching...

Yeah, that walking abortion.

We both know you're just settling because you never thought that we could be what we were meant to be. But, I'm here to tell you now, that I will do anything for you Natalie Portman. I will watch Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium until my eyes melt. I'll start saying I loved Attack of the Clones. Hell, I'll even wrestle Zach Braff in a pool of jello...I don't care. You want it, you've got it.

I know you have a big decision to make Natalie. I don't want to rush you...I want you to take as much time as you need. But, remember that if you ever need anything, I'll be right here...

...waiting for you.

Monday, February 23, 2009

My Thoughts On Sean Penn Winning Best Actor

When I originally sat down to write this blog entry I was going to completely bash Sean Penn. I'll admit, I was disappointed because he won the Oscar for Best Actor. I genuinely wanted it to go to Mickey Rourke. Rourke was absolutely amazing in The Wrestler... he showed a kind of passion in that film that you rarely see in movies. I believed he was screwed, and I was ready to tear down Penn in retaliation.

I have never really been a big fan of Sean Penn. I had no interest in seeing Milk; I assumed it would be another vehicle for him to get his super liberal agenda out to the public. I was going to completely destroy him in this blog just so I could feel better about the injustice I believe that happened.

Then I thought about it and decided that I wasn't going to do that. Lately I've been very angry...if you need proof look at my last two blog entries. I'm getting really sick of being angry all the time. I enjoy using this blog to vent my personal frustrations, but that's not all I am. There is more to me than some guy who hates Michael Bay.

Oh man do I hate Michael Bay...

So instead of bashing Sean Penn, I'm going to congratulate him. I'm not in the Academy, and that's probably a good thing. I'm not in the business, and I didn't see all the movies that were nominated. I only have a biased opinion...I'm not a student of the art like they are. Regardless of my personal feelings, Sean Penn is a fabulous actor. He was amazing in I Am Sam, and I thought he was the best part of Mystic River. No, I do not agree with his political agendas. I do not like that the guy who played Spicoli, one of the funniest characters I've ever seen, seems to have no real sense of humor.

But, in the end I remembered something that A.R. Rahman said during his acceptance speech for best score and song, and it struck a chord with me.

"All my life, I've had a choice of hate and love...I chose love, and I'm here. "

Maybe I need to choose love more often.

So congratulations Sean Penn. If the Academy says you deserve it, then that's good enough for me.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Why I Am Done with Spider-Man

I never used to have a problem with you. Hell, I admired you. Your ability to face danger at any cost was a symbol of nobility that is not seen these days. But, lately I just can’t seem to stomach your presence. Please understand, I’m not saying I think you’re a bad person…

...I just can't stand you Spider-Man.
I can’t take the whining anymore, the constant cry baby whining that comes with knowing you. You’re a super-hero…do you really have that much to bitch about?
Let’s take a quick look at your life…you were the school nerd until a radioactive spider bit you and gave you super human powers. You climb on walls, you have super strength, and you can shoot webs out of your arms. You were a photographer for a major newspaper in the greatest city in the world, and you were married to a freaking super model. All in all, I’d say that’s a pretty sweet life.
But, what did you do? You found a way to complain about everything that you had going for you. You know what I do all day? I don’t swing around the city I can tell you that. I don’t even live in a good city, I live near Wheeling...West Virginia’s middle finger to the world.

If we had a super-hero he would be bored out of his mind. Aside from the occasional crack dealer there is nothing to do around this shit hole. He would sit on a bench and drink moonshine until he pissed himself. You on the other hand live in a city where crazy shit happens every day! How many other people can say they fought a man with metal octopus arms, and lived to tell about it? And, you get paid actual cash to take pictures of yourself doing it. If that's not a racket I don't know what is.

But, no you found a way to make all this a bad thing. You would whine about how the Daily Bugle, the paper you WORK FOR, didn't like you. Yeah, well who the hell cares if they like you? You get paid either way.

Seriously I don't know how the people close to you put up with your shit. When you're not saving the world from handicapped patients dressed up like rhino's you're moping around about how bad you think your life is. Get this straight; you're a hero. The world idolizes you...dammit they even made three freaking movies about you...but, I'm sure even you could find something wrong with that...

I rest my case.

I spent some time trying to figure out why you hate your life so much, and the only conclusion I could come to is that you enjoy being miserable.

What? You disagree with me?

Good thing I have proof.

Now I understand you feel responsible for the death of your Uncle Ben. You let the criminal that ended up killing him run right past you. You saw this as a sign. It's the reason you live by the motto, "with great power comes great responsibility." Years after this event, even though you have paid your debt a hundred times over, you still blame yourself for this turn of you it was fates way of punishing you for your selfishness.

You know what I call it? A coincidence.

It's a bummer, but you know what, so was the holocaust. You don't hear the Jews complaining do you? Your uncle just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, end of story. The fact that you have based your entire life around this one moment should be enough proof that you're a glutton for pain and misery.

What? It isn't?

Then wait, I have more.

Lets take a look at your wife...

He sure did.

Now, lets take a look at the other woman in his life, the one he ultimately chose over that hot piece of tail above..

...way to pick 'em Parker.

Why? Why would you choose a 250 year old woman over your 20-something red-headed trophy wife?

What? You don't remember giving up the SUPER-MODEL you used to sleep with to save your 300 year old aunt?

Well allow me to remind you.

Now I know that for years you were able to juggle the lives of a husband, nephew, free lance photographer and super-hero pretty well. By the time the Marvel Civil War occurred, things were actually going pretty good for you. Hell, you even became an Avenger! That's like Marvels version of the Justice League only not as awesome. You, your wife, and your 300 year old aunt were living in a high rise apartment for free, and you were finally getting the respect you had been dreaming about your entire life.

Then you had to go and screw it all up, didn't you?

Against your better judgement you unmasked in front of millions of people on live television.


I'll unmasked yourself on live television...WILLINGLY.



Because of this, you had to leave your awesome home and take your foxy wife and 415 year old aunt on the run. And, of course someone eventually found you and your Aunt May took a bullet that was meant for you.

Now lets keep in mind that Aunt May is 500 years old. She is way past her prime, its time for her to go.

But, you couldn't let her go, could you? You couldn't let her die with dignity. You couldn't save her either shit head, so what did you do?

You whined.

And whined.

And whined, and whined, and whined.

You whined so much that the freaking Devil got tired of it and decided to put a stop to your tantrum.

For reasons unbeknownst to me, the Devil had decided to fore go the usual soul, and in its place take your marriage. I know, it doesn't make sense at all. So now you have an offer on the table...give up your vivacious, supple, curvaceous super-model wife, so that you 2,000 old aunt can survive the gunshot wound and live another couple of hours before she dies of being...well...really really old.

Why would you even consider it?

Oh, I remember why.

Because you hate yourself as much as I hate you.

Now to be fair, it wasn't you who made the deal. Your wife, who I can only assume was sick and tired of your bullshit, cut the deal with the Devil so that you wouldn't have to.

You know why it was expected? Because she could see that she was married to a idiot! She was getting out man! I don't blame her in the least for wanting to leave the guy who chose a woman who by now has to be a zombie over his own wife. True, making a deal with the Devil is a tad extreme, but she is a woman right?

Do you understand now? Do you see why I have a problem with you? I would literally kill a man to have had your life. I would push my sick grandmother down a flight of stairs just to web swing to work. How you have managed to sabotage yourself over and over again is beyond me.

So from this point on, I officially wash my hands of you. I will no longer see your movies, I won't read your comics, and I will not acknowledge your existence.

Seriously man, you have all that power, all that ability, and what do you do?

You whine, and bitch, and whine some more.

You know who's a real hero? Batman that's who. He doesn't even have super powers and he never bitches. NEVER. And do you know why he never bitches?

He sure as shit is. If he heard you complain he'd punch you right in the wiener.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

My Worst Enemy

For years I have been struggling. I have been very vocal about my dislike for this person for a long time, but I have never outwardly said that I hated his very existence. Night after night I would sit at home and see this person effect the world in horrible ways, but what could I do? I am just a humble man who has no impact on the world, and to have his hand in every aspect of the media. I don't know if it's ignorance, denial, or just a general apathy from the people, but I just can't take it anymore...I must now speak out against my greatest enemy.

This man is not just my enemy. He is also the enemy of thought. The enemy of creativity. He is the Lex Luthor of the film industry, the Adolf Hitler of imagination, and one of the worst criminals of the history of the human spirit.

This man is Michael Bay.

At first I thought I was being unfair to Mr. Bay. The first movie of his that I saw was the 1995 Will Smith/Martin Lawrence fiasco known as Bad Boys. It would be fair to say that in my youth my taste in film was very limited. I thought The Mask was good at that age, so lord knows how bad my taste was. I was so excited to watch it to because The Fresh Prince was starring in his very first blockbuster, and I was concerned that he couldn't carry the screen without his Uncle Phil to help keep him in line.

Needless to say I was disappointed. Even at 12 years old I knew that this movie was bad. I couldn't decide what was worse: the cheesy one liners, the lame jokes, or the blatant disregard for physics, but I knew I hated it.

It turned out, though, that I was one of the only people that didn't like Bad Boys. The movie grossed $65.8 million in the United States and $75 million overseas, and it was only made for $19 million. Most critics loved it and cited it as the re-emergence of the buddy cop genre.

This film thrust Bay into the spotlight, and began his career as one of the Hollywood elite. I felt that perhaps I had been unfair to him, and he deserved another chance to win me over with his next film. The public was all about this dude; clearly he was going to do great things.

I have since learned that the public has shit for brains.
Quickly one disappointment rolled out after another. The Rock made me hate Sean Connery. Pearl Harbor made me feel like I had stomach cancer (considering how many times I threw up while watching it). The bastard even took my man Bruce Willis and put him in that mess called Armageddon. It occurred to me that great actors were drawn to him and he, in turn, helped them give the worst performances of their careers.

This is a pretty good example of what my brain did after I saw Bruce Willis in that piece of shit.
But all of this I could forgive. I didn't condone it, but dammit I could live with it. He's a Hollywood movie producer/director. Why would he give a shit about my opinion? The dude is making bank. I knew he was just trying to make a living, not trying to destroy my spirit with his awful films.

Unfortunately I couldn't have been more wrong.
Because I had given excuses for Mr. Bay I allowed myself to see Transformers. To be fair, I knew ahead of time that I was going to be disappointed, but I figured that the beloved characters from my childhood could help make up for the awfulness that is Michael Bay. I assumed I was going to get what I paid for; some bad ass robot fights, cool looking cars, and Optimus Prime fisting a Volkswagen.

Well two out of three isn't bad.

I did get what I paid for, but I also got a lot more than I expected. Days after I saw the movie I felt isolated and alone. My roommates tried to talk to me, but I would withdraw. Every time someone brought up Transformers I pretended like I didn't see it. I pretended because I wanted to forget. I wanted to forget how I felt after I saw that film.
I felt like a rape victim, and in a way I was. I felt like my self respect, my intelligence and my imagination were left on the dirty floor after a Hollywood director has his way with them.

I was raped by Michael Bay.

It feels good to finally get that out.

Earlier I said that I didn't think it was a personal vendetta against me, but now I'm sure I was wrong. I believe that Mr. Bay is aware of my existence AND my opinion of him. I believe he has heard my comments and has decided to spend the rest of his career building the worlds largest middle finger and aiming it directly at me.

The biggest problem I have with him, though, is that the majority of the public loves his movies. There are people who think that it is okay to watch a movie just for special effects and explosions. This bothers me because it signifies how much we take true art for granted. If it were up to the public, Transformers would have won best picture at the Academy Awards and that kid from Harry Potter would be best actor every stinking year. We have allowed ourselves to be taken in by mindless entertainment instead of watching something that actually makes us think, something that makes us feel. Michael Bay is an advocate for this way of film making, and he grows stronger everyday. He's like Galactus without the awesome hat.

He has now dipped his hands into the horror genre. How long before Jason Vorhees is driving a motorcycle down an empty highway with C4 exploding all around him? How will you feel when you see Freddy Kruger teaming up with Nicholas Cage to stop a terrorist attack? He is like a cancer that just won't stop spreading.

Citizens of America I beg you...please do not see his films anymore. Every time you pay for a ticket to see one of his flicks you are giving him more money to use against my personal well being. I'm sick of having to try and convince people he is garbage. I am a one man crusade against an iceburg of idiocy.

In closing all I can say is enjoy it while you can Michael Bay. Enjoy your throne of money built off of critics tears. Please continue to dance on the graves of Stanley Kubric, Humphrey Bogart, and Orsen Welles: men who made cinema an art form. Continue to spit in the face of Gregory Peck and call him a pussy for never brandishing a rocket launcher in a movie. I say enjoy it while you can because you might have Bruce Willis fooled, you might have Connery fooled, hell you might even have Spielberg fooled...but I know of one man that wouldn't have put up with your shit...Once they find a way to cure stomach cancer for someone who has been dead for 30 years, the Duke and I are coming for your ass.