Azn Badger's Blog

What About the Lysine Contingency…?

Concealable Weapons You’re Not Cool Enough To Carry: Pocket Sand

What Is It?:  

A cache of sand stored in one’s pockets for the purpose of throwing in an attackers eyes.

Who’s Used It?:

Dale Gribble, Uncle Scar, Chong Li, Mr. Fuji.

Why Am I Not Cool Enough To Carry It?:  

Because throwing sand in peoples eyes is an act reserved for only the most weasly and underhanded motherfuckers in all of existence.

It’s one thing to be an opportunist, to be that asshole that chucks a wad of sand in the heat of the moment.

That shit’s been goin’ on since the beginning of time.

Hell, I’m willing to bet fuckin’ amoeba’s n’shit were chuckin’ particles of primordial soup at each others membranes back in the day.

Hell, even fuckin' Pokemon do it.

How else would the world know who the bad guys were?

The point is, chucking sand in people’s eyes is an inherently despicable, yet practical act; but if and when it’s utilized as a preemptive means of defense, it becomes something far more diabolical than most ordinary humans are capable of.

In order to be that guy that pockets a wad of sand every morning, you’d have to have a thought process somewhere along the lines of:

 “Oh shit, my Spider-Sense is tingling. I should probably bring some sand with me today…”

I’m sorry, but unless you’ve got Batman kicking down your door with any sort of regularity, chances are you’re not anywhere near cool enough to carry tactical pocket sand.

I understand that some people think it perfectly reasonable to carry pepper spray, stun guns, or even knives everywhere they go; (I don’t) but it takes a certain kind of crazy (not at all like a fox) to say to yourself:

“Whoops!  Silly me, I almost forgot to stuff kitty litter in my pockets before I left for work!”

I’m sorry, but chances are the kind of people that would consider carrying sand in their pockets a sensible, and totally necessary method of self-defense, are the kind of people that have gone out of their way to make the sort of enemies that would require said extreme measures to be dealt with.

That is to say, unless you’re a paranoid fuckin’ gun nut like Dale Gribble, or one seriously slimy-ass motherfucker like Lex Luthor’s douchebag second cousin or some shit; then chances are you haven’t earned the right to carry pocket sand in, uh, your pockets.

Filed under: Comics, Concealable Weapons You're Not Cool Enough To Carry, Games, Kung Fu, Movies, Uncategorized, Wrestling, , , , , , , , , , ,

A Tribute to the “That Guy’s” of Action Cinema

I’d like to take a moment to honor Danny Trejo in recognition of his remarkable achievement of going from being little more than a “That Guy” in action movies throughout the 90’s, to landing his first legitimate starring role in Robert Rodriguez’s Machete.

In my early childhood I knew him as “that ruddy-complexioned guy that dies all the time.”

Danny Trejo on the set of Anaconda upon being handed his paycheck.

Later on I knew him as a much friendlier personality in the form of the voices of Enrique on King of the Hill,

He's so friendly!

and well; himself, in the videogame Def Jam: Fight for New York.

Well, it’s about 20 years overdue, but finally the day has come that we can all say we know Danny Trejo as the star of his own movie.

Anyway, in honor of Danny Trejo and the host of other perpetually typecast actors, I’d like to take this opportunity to pay tribute to the “That Guy’s” of action cinema.

What is a “That Guy,” you ask?

According to Google Images, THIS is a "That Guy." I vehemently disagree.

A “That Guy” is one of those actors that is consistently typecast in various bit-roles, typically along the lines of “ugly thug #1” or “dude that gets shot.”

It goes without saying, that the vast majority of “That Guy’s” end up playing villains throughout the entirety of their careers.

Think of it this way:

If you’ve seen an action movie actor enough times that you know their face, but not their name; chances are they’re a “That Guy.”

Take Noel Gugliemi for instance. You probably saw him in S.W.A.T., Training Day, or The Fast and the Furious, but you probably didn't know his name.

Over the years there have been a handful of “That Guy’s” that have ascended to legitimate celebrity, though every case is essentially a million to one shot.

For the most part though, a “That Guy’s” claim to fame generally springs from the list of big name action stars that have killed them throughout their career.

Take Sven-Ole Thorsen for example:

The funniest pic I could find.

A veteran of an ungodly number of action films, the big Dane got capped to shit by Leonardo DiCaprio in The Quick and the Dead,

he got offed by Steven Seagal in On Deadly Ground, he got the everloving-shit kicked out of him by Russell Crowe in Gladiator,

Yup, that's him on the left.

and to top it all off, he’s been torn apart by Arnold Schwarzenegger more times than I care to count.

Best of all though, not only has ‘ole Sven been killed by Ah-Nold more times than I’ve used the word “fuck” on this blog, he’s also accomplished the astounding feat of being killed by Arnold twice in the same movie franchise.

Said franchise would of course be the Conan series.

Sven was in both films, playing 2 different characters, though in Conan the Destroyer he was fitted with a dorky looking helmet, most likely to hide his appearance.

Not this dorky, but close enough.

No article about “That Guy’s” can be made without mention of the uber-prolific Thomas Rosales Jr.

You may of course remember him as the deaf as fuck Hispanic mercenary, Carter, from The Lost World.

You're gonna' get Spielberg Spite Killed so bad...

Well, beyond that, chances are you also remember him from Raw Deal, The Running Man, Last Action Hero, (Arnold killed him a few times) and the sci-fi sequels, Robocop 2 and Predator 2.

Any man that takes a bullet from Robocop, and gets skinned by the Predator, definitely deserves special mention.

Robocop likes to be thorough. Shooting people 3 times is standard practice.

Another example of the quintissential “That Guy” I’d like to point out is the classic “Azn That Guy,” Al Leong.

As seen in Die Hard.

If ever there was a need for an Asian “That Guy,” in any action movie ever, chances are Al Leong was considered for the part.

With his distinctive beard and outrageous bald spot, Mr. Leong made in appearances in such classics as Bill and Ted’s Excellent adventure (as Genghis Khan no less) and Big Trouble in Little China, as well as achieved the honor of being killed off by industry greats like Mel Gibson (Lethal Weapon),

Tee hee, that was silly.

and Bruce Willis (Die Hard).

Mr. Leong about a half second before Mr. Willis put half a clip through him.

Though in my eyes he’s nowhere near as accomplished as either of the other 2 men above, Patrick Kilpatrick is a “That Guy” that deserves mention, if not for his awesomely-badass  name, then for the sheer strength of his performances.

Whenever I look at him, words like "rapist" and "pedophile" spring to mind.

Few “That Guy’s” can match Kilpatrick’s ability to stand out from the crowd with his creepy mannerisms and borderline down-syndrome kid facial structure.

That being said, Mr. Kilpatrick’s been killed by Steven Seagal in Under Siege 2: Dark Territory, Bruce Willis in Last Man Standing, Arnold Schwarzenneger in Eraser, and he even got to be the primary antagonist in the Jean-Claude Van Damme prison actioner, Death Warrant.

Not only that, he got to fight Treat Williams in The Substitute 4: Failure Is Not An Option.

What?

I happen to like Treat Williams…

How could you not like him!?

Anyway, I don’t want to overstay my welcome with this tribute post, so I’ll just finish by rattling off a few more “That Guy’s” that deserve to be known somewhere on the internet.

Nick Chinlund AKA Billy Bedlam from Con Air, thanks for having the raunchiest, slimiest voice of any “That Guy” EVER.

Should've put the Bunny back in the box...

Robert Z’Dar, thanks for having the biggest fucking chin on the face of the planet.  Oh yeah, thanks for making Tango and Cash suck just a little bit less too.

Just so you know, he's not wearing any makeup or prosthetics. Seriously.

Tommy Lister, thanks for being the president of THE WORLD in The Fifth Element, and giving us Deebo in Friday, and Zeus in No Holds Barred.  Foh’ real man, I don’t think anyone else could’ve done so much with so little.

THAT, my friends, is a unibrow.

Michael Berryman, sorry about the Hypohidrotic Ectodermal Dysplasia, but think of it this way, you saved many a filmmaker a shit ton of money on makeup effects.

That's him on the left, stupid.

and Brian Thompson, thanks for reminding me of Michael Berryman when you’re head’s shaved, and for the Buffalo Bob sequence in Joe Dirt.

Brian Thompson in drag = Funny.  Spade without Farley = Sad.

Anyway, there’s a shit ton of other “That Guy’s” deserving of recognition, and perhaps we’ll get to them another day, but for now, here’s to hoping they all know they’re appreciated.

Remember, just ’cause I don’t know your name doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate what you do.

Filed under: Games, Kung Fu, Movies, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I’m Not There: I Didn’t Get It…

I walked away from I’m Not There.

23 minutes in, I got up from my seat, said to myself “I don’t have the energy for this shit,” and left the room.

I don’t walk out of movies.

Hell, I managed to sit through The Spirit, and that was one of the most vile movies I’ve ever seen (in the theater, mind you.)

Samuel L Jackson's face upon seeing his paycheck for The Spirit.

Then again, I paid to see The Spirit, and we all know how cheap I am…..

*Ahem!* I believe “really cheap” is the answer you’re looking for.

Anyway, I walked out of I’m Not There because, after 23 minutes of trying my damndest, I just didn’t get it.

Now, I feel it needs to be mentioned that I, the Azn Badger, am not what you’d call a Bob Dylan fan.

Sorry Bobby. Don't worry though, pretty much every other Evergreen grad LOVES you.

I’m not all that familiar with his music, and my basic impression of him as a person is only characterized by the various imitations and caricatures I’ve seen on King of the Hill and the like.

Pictured: All I know of Bob Dylan. Tee-hee, he talks funny...

Needless to say, I don’t really have any sort of connection or appreciation of Bob Dylan, nor folk/60’s music in general.

I’m more of a disco and funk man myself…

Type "funk" into Google and whaddayah' get? GEORGE FUCKING CLINTON.

Anyway, coming into the movie, I assumed that this might effect my enjoyment of the film to some degree.

Turns out that was only a minor point, as the art house clusterfuckery of this movie served to overshadow any sort of issues that the Bob Dylan soundtrack could’ve brought about in my mind.

From what I can tell, the basic concept of the film was supposed to be a series of vignettes detailing the life and times of Bob Dylan, as portrayed by a number of big name actors, while at once referring to each of these actors by names that are not common amongst one another, and most certainly not Bob Dylan.

Confused yet?  Good, now you you know how I felt.

Aside from an opening sequence that shows us all of the actors portraying not-Bob Dylan in the film, namely Christian Bale, Cate Blanchett, Marcus Carl Franklin, Richard Gere, Heath Ledger, and Ben Whishaw, (if you’re like me you only know half of those names) the first real shot we get of not-Bob Dylan, is a goofy close-up shot of Richard Gere’s eye opening.

I'd like to take this opportunity to tell EVERYONE to see Primal Fear, as it single-handedly taught me to appreciate the art of acting.

Richard Gere would make no other appearances within the 23 minutes of the film I managed to survive.

After that we start following some 11 year old black kid, riding the rails and playing guitar for people.

The black kid is included in the opening sequence of the film, standing amongst the actors that play not-Bob Dylan, leading me to believe he was supposed to be some sort of analogy to Bob Dylan, but for the most part I was just confused.

Moreover I was confused by how the kid acted and spoke like an adult despite his age.

That was just odd.

Know what else is odd?

Watching said black kid fall off a bridge, into a river, get swallowed by a fuckin’ sperm whale, and then watching said scene transition to a woman, whom we’ve never seen before at this point in the movie, standing in a literal air bubble.

An actual still from the movie.

Know what else is odd?

Heath Ledger’s package on camera for no fuckin’ reason, that’s what!

No, you don’t get a picture for that one, perv.

In the 23 minutes I saw of I’m Not There, I couldn’t establish any sort of order or context to any one scene.

The movie would hop around from scene to scene, subject to subject, and actor to actor, such that I couldn’t begin to follow it.

Pictured: The editor of I'm Not There's inspiration.

All I know is that there was a shit ton of Bob Dylan music playing over virtually every frame I sat through, some of which was being sung by Christian Bale, imitating Bob Dylan.

Rest assured, despite the relatively star studded cast, this is not an actor’s film.

The one moment of the film that I enjoyed was when a woman told the little black kid to “live his time.”

That’s right hipsters, words to live by, yah’ bunch ah’ fuckin’ counterculture, wannabe beatnik fuckers.

If you got a bingo, you'll love this movie.

I’m Not There is a prime example of why I don’t pay attention to artsy or independent films.

I just don’t get them.

Filed under: Movies, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Donate