|
WHEN
THE 'TWAT' LADY SINGS...
 |
Fried
Wire is no fan of opera. Even when it's delivered by young,
large-bosomed divas with the distinction of having
once been
voted "Rear
of The Year" at only 16, it still doesn't work
for me. So what is Welsh pop/opera warbler Charlotte Church
doing up in here?
Although high Cs and double Ds alone
do not
make a candidate
for the
Fried
Wire
Hall
of
Heroes (especially
one
hailing from Wales), she definitely has the
required 'it' factor.
After all, it's not every day that celebrities refer to
our mighty POTUS as a 'twat' and a 'weirdo' in public.
After meeting Bush in 2005, Church reported feeling
distinctly underwhelmed by the experience. "George Bush
hasn't got a clue what he's doing. He asked me what state
Wales was in. I said, 'It's its own country next to England,
Mr. Bush.' I thought, "You twat."
She added "When I've met President Clinton and Tony Blair
and other world leaders, as you do, they've all made me
feel like they wanted to have a chat. He was
like a sulking child, he looked like he couldn't be bothered."
(more)
Welcome
to gold status, Ms. Church and thank you for
brightening my day with your
homespun wisdom and ample mammaries. (Link
to this) |
HAIL
THE HOLLYWOOD CRAZY BASTARD!
 |
In
Lee Marvin and Steve McQueen's day, they were called
'hellraisers' and they were the kinda dudes through which
regular folk vicariously experienced life in the fast
lane. Through each marathon booze binge, bar fight and
heroin shot in the eyeball they were followed like football
teams because most of us lead stable lives that are happy
and dull. Most of us never know the visceral thrill of
starting each day wondering if we won't make it home
that day because we got killed — or just because
we forgot where we lived.
But for too long the hellraiser has been an extinct species (unless you
count Pee Wee Herman and Colin Farrell) so all hail Tom
Sizemore, the stupidest bastard still alive in Hollywood. Today Sizemore
was busted for taking his compulsory urine test with a fake dick - an ingenious
device called the Whizzinator apparently
- filled with someone else's untainted piss. But the real clincher was
that a guy who has been in top grossing movies like 'Saving Private Ryan',
'Pulp Fiction' and 'Black Hawk Down' gave his address as a garage in Whittier,
California. (Note: mansions in the hills are for fakes like Michael Douglas.
Real hellraisers live in garages passed out next to the mower in a pool
of their own vomit.)
Here's a classic Sizemore anecdote from 1997 (that James Lipton will probably
never ask to hear): "I never really drank before," he says. "I'd
always used narcotics until two years ago, not cocaine, the other one.
I came home drunk and asked my wife for the cooking wine. She refused so
I said, 'I'm going to the store.' She said, 'If you leave, I'm calling
the police.' I said,' Fuck you.' So she hits 911 and I'm like, 'Alright,
you win,' and she hangs up. Minutes later, six police officers were at
the door. They shouted 'Step the fuck outside.' I said, 'Suck my fuckin'
dick, get on your fuckin' horses..." I started some cowboy motif that
I never finished because they grabbed me. I was arrested but no charges
were filed. It was embarrassing, and won't happen again." Old School!
(Link to this) |
DID
SOMEONE SAY CRAZY?
 |
So
you say you have an alter ego called Celestia, the daughter
of God and half-sister of Jesus, who talks to space aliens?
You named your son Homer Heche Laffoon (poor bastard)
and you continue to be a grievous pain in the ass to
your psychotherapist/born again Christian mom? Top marks
so far, Ms Heche!
True, you may only be a shopping cart full of tin cans away from fully-fledged
lunacy, a dilettante dyke and considered hideous by the facile beauty standards
of Hollywood but, if Fried Wire was a stalker, you'd top our list.
There is just so much about you that floats our canoe. I can't say it better
than fametracker.com: "Seriously,
is this a great country or what? You can be one-half of the most high-profile
lesbian couple in the country, then go wacko, then dump your partner, then
marry that guy over there, then talk to aliens in your bathrobe, then write
a loopy book, then show up on some farmer's doorstep, asking for directions
to Neptune -- and still, still, the Man can't keep you down." Damn
skippy! |
MARION
'PARTY BOY' BARRY
Some
folks would probably put their political ambitions
on the back burner after being caught on video smoking
crack and 'cavorting with prostitutes' by the FBI.
But not so Marion Barry, destined to become Ex-Mayor
of Washington DC after a surfeit of unconventional
peccadilloes led to his incarceration.
But the indefatigable Barry bounced back from prison and immediately
started working to get his old job back. His efforts culminated in a
win over Republican Councilwoman Carol Schwartz in the 1994 Mayoral election.
Schwartz campaigned hard on values and morals but just couldn't seem
to find her crack-addicted, hooker-fucking, ex-con opponent's achilles
heal.
There's something you can't help liking about Marion Barry. The same
seems to apply to the residents of DC who reelected him. Notable Barry
words of wisdom include "Bitch set me up...I shouldn't have come
up here...goddamn bitch" (referencing the FBI sting operation) and "If
you take out the killings, Washington actually has a very very low crime
rate."
Interestingly, the 2004 Presidential election yielded only 9% of the
DC vote for Bush, so we can assume the voters do know a real crook when
they see one.
|
|
Pictured:
Barry fires up the Mayoral crack pipe; Barry bounces
back in 1994.
|
SMELLS
LIKE MEAN SPIRIT...
The
first black commander of America's armed forces and the
first black Secretary of State was regarded as a 'dove'
by the chicken-hawk Bush junta, but he was the only one
amongst them who had actually fought for his country.
Powell was decorated 11 times and wounded twice in Vietnam
(see The
GOP War Heroes' Hall of Fame).
Throughout his career, the only time he disclosed his political sympathies
was in 1964, when he campaigned for LBJ in his successful Democratic bid
for the presidency. Registered to vote as an independent, he has been courted
by both the DNC and the GOP at various times and has served both Republican
and Democratic administrations. As Secretary of State, he was always more
popular than the crap foreign policy decisions he was obligated to defend.
And, in the Bush junta, he was constantly sidelined in a clique that values
ass-kissing and dumb allegiance way beyond the kind of experience, foresight
and caution he exemplifies.
He was not even informed when Bush launched his invasion of Iraq until
two days after Cheney and Rumsfeld had already briefed the Saudi ambassador
on the battle plans and got the thumbs up from Riyadh. Even the way his
resignation was announced seemed like a calculated slight - lumped together
with the three non-entities who were also being purged from the new whiter
than right Bush junta that day.
Another threat
to ignorance and malfeasance neutralized in Bush's mission to create consensus
by dumping anyone who doesn't automatically ditto the Rove/Cheney/Bush
party line.
(Pictured: Colin Powell appoints James Brown to the cabinet last year.
The Bush administration, however, had little use for a "Secretary
of Soul and Foreign Minister of Funk" or a Secretary of State for
that matter.) |
QU'EST-CE
QUE LA PROPRIETE?
 |
In
1840, Pierre-Joseph Proudhon wrote his first significant
book "What Is Property?" This created a
sensation because he also answered his question: “Property
is theft!” It is important to realize that
Proudhon was not opposed to the concept of people
owning stuff (that would have been dumb); his use
of the word "propriété" more
accurately translates as 'profit.' He argued that
profit - making money from buying, selling or owning
stuff you have not made yourself - is a form of theft.
Of course, the French monarchy was not too sympathetic
to his thesis and so Proudhon was brought up on capital
charges of treason and sedition. But the jury was
too "eh?" to follow the arguments, and
the judge found himself logically unable to prove
the statement wrong. After a lengthy trial, Proudhon
was found innocent - the inference being that the
capitalist establishment had accepted that the capitalist
establishment was indeed guilty of theft. Props to
Proudhon.
God knows what he'd have thought of Starbucks buying sacks of beans for
30 cents in South America, but still skinning me for three and a half
bucks for a frigging latté...
|
NEVER
USE THE BATHROOM DURING A STRATEGY MEETING...
 |
It
is 1974 and Kiss - probably the single ugliest and
stupidest band in rock 'n' roll history - are working
on a way to obscure their unpalatable appearances
so as to stop scaring away the after-gig cock hoppers.
The brainstorming session runs the gamut from brown
paper bags to ski masks to totally dark stage sets...
Until the fateful pronouncement is made: "Let's
wear make up!" roars Gene.
"But ain't that kinda faggy?" wonders Paul. The room descends into
a pensive silence as everyone racks their brains trying to think of a hairy-balled,
rock 'n' roll way to don cosmetics. But the strain of thought proves too much
for the drummer who feels a bowel movement coming on and departs for the bathroom.
It is while he's away that Gene comes up with the whole scary, gothic horror
monster thing. "Woah! Dude! That really rrrrrrocks!" they all respond. "But,
of course it's my idea - so I'll be the coolest one,” says Gene selfishly
as he sketches a scary bat-browed monster face on his scratch pad. Unfortunately,
by the time the drummer comes back from the bathroom, all the best ideas are
claimed. The bat-browed scary monster, the cosmic star man and the slightly similar
(though silver) bat-browed monster are all taken.
That's how Peter Chriss got to spend the next 30 years running around
as a crappy cat man. "I'm Gene Simmons - gggrrrrrrowwww!!!" "I'm
Peter Chriss - miaow..." What a trooper.
|
PUPPY
POWER!
Not
strictly a good guy, but definitely a good puppy. This
little fella saved his doggy siblings by shooting the
guy who was in the process of shooting them. Jerry Bradford
was busy dispatching his seven surplus puppies with a
.38 revolver when this little guy trod on the trigger
and put a sudden end to the whole heart warming process.
Unfortunately, puppies are notoriously bad shots, so
Jerry was only winged. But the cops in Pensacola slapped
him with a Felony Animal Cruelty charge and, presumably,
multiple counts of being a complete cunt.
(CNN.com, September 9, 2004) |
|
|
A
SALUTE TO THE GREETER
 |
|
This
one's dedicated to all those smug folk who like poking
fun at the Wal-Mart greeter. Sure, it may be mildly
irritating having to confront random smiling geezers
and your own repressed awareness of mortality when
all you want to do is stock up on Charmin Ultra. But
this poor guy was probably the 'Pop' half of the Mom
and Pop store that was here before the Wal-Mart juggernaut
rolled into town. He is now doomed to a lonely life
of rueful, introspective irony... You should be grateful
you are only harassed by his platitudes. If I was him,
earning less than Zambian minimum wage to smile at
your sour faces every day through the twilight of my
years, I'd spit Red Man in your eye and call your kids
ugly bastards.
|
Back
Pages
Fried
Wire Policy and Disclaimer | Hatemail | Hmm... | Fanmail | |
|
|
