Wheneth I was a child I had a fever, my beloved brother and sister reared me on the classics of rock, and yes, they did it less annoyingly than Jack Black would’ve. Although I never fell for the Dead like they did, even though our family did rock the world’s dopest station wagon adorned with 100+ bumper stickers and a Steal Your Face hood that screamed to cops ‘PULL ME OVER!’, they did get me crazily hooked on the Floyd of Pink. Hell, my parents aint no crazy music lovers (they only buy CD soundtracks from movies), but after hearing about how they stumbled upon a floating Floyd show in the canals of Venice, I certainly wished that I was there. So it had always been a dream of mine to see the boys live and in the flesh. Howevs, after years and years of legal battles between the current touring and recording group known as Pink Floyd and the man, the myth, the legend, Roger Waters, I was really confused as to who or what Pink Floyd drooly is. After a lotta tossin and turnin, I finally took a side: Watersz’. I mean, the dude’s fingeprints are purty much all over the greatest double disc (& one of my flavs) of balls thyme, and which in turn, begat the single greatistest rock movie mt everest (much respek to the Who’s Tommy), The Wall.
That’s why it was an easy choice to czech out Waters’ tour over David Gilmour’s, and hell, over the David Gilmour Girls’ tas well. And boy oh chef boyardee did I make the right decision, cause jolly Roger sure rocked the effin hizouse/ampy-theater the other night, even with his faux David Gilmour in tow. While I woulda rather he played The Wall in its entirety instead of Dark Side of the Moon, I aint gonna complain, even though that’s what I do best, besides JOing to Chris Isaak. For 2+ hours I got my juss desserts (‘Vera’/’Bring The Boys Back Home’ live was off the coat AND meat rack) and then some (like seeing 50 year olds smoke more ganj than I). Bonestly, I bet Waters puts on the breastest show that an old fogie of his gen could possibly put on (even if that fogie looks a lot like Richard Gere). Can the same really be said of the Rolling Stones or Dylan? Me donts think so.
There was one par-dick-u-lust-lee franztatsic moment that I will take with me ingrained in my brain to the grave: the release of the infamous inflatable pig during ‘Sheep’. Ya see, at the MSG show the other nite, I bet the pig probably floated to the roof and later was brought back down, but at Jones Biatch, shiz is outdoors, so the pig kept goin up and up and up, til wees couldn’t sees its no mo. I first thought of The Simpsons (you figure out the two pig refs I’m thinking of), and then my thoughts turned to its eventual return to mother earth. Imagine yer sittin at home and the all of the sudden a giant plastic bacon thing lands on yer house. In this day in age, you wouldn’t think that it hailed from a rock concert, but more like an Al Qaeda rally.
The show left me with one nagging question. It was totally boss for Gilmour and Waters to reunite for Live 8 and all, but why not take that show on the road? Shiz would make more money than Mark Cuban selling cuban sangwhiches. But I guess I shouldn’t even bother asking dat question when I already know the answer: when pigs fly!
V For Vendetta
Not Much To Remember Remember View Trailer
Nice try film peoples, but the only anarchy on display here is the bloated screenplay with all its half-cocked ideas that labors on and on for what seems like 47238432 November 5ths. High on style, and what seems like itself, there aint nuttin much to behold but a house of potential, built solely with balsa wood. It’s not a total wash out, I mean, dude, Natalie Portman taking a nap on a pile of poo larger than this woman’s [NSFW] for 7 hours would still be worth watching beating off to, but then again, anytime a review of ours turns into a bunch of picture pages (like Van Hell Suck/Hellboo), it aint bound for glory, or bound like Gina Gershon and Jennifer Tilly either. So without much further Freddy Adu about nothing, wait for the DVD/Blu-Ray/PSP/HD-DVD/VD, and in the meantime (no, not the Helmet album), do the math, cause we’re not Asianified enuff to come up with something that equals $10 well spent, but wees’will stills give it a try…
V 4 Vending =
every third idea from 1984
and even the creative flip-flop casting
of John Hurt
as Big Brother
or is
it
the dude who’s waiting for the worms?
+
Jack White’s
whorerific van Dyck
experimentalpatient
+
the fury of the filth
and the filth of the fury
not including filthy
Colin Firth’s Furby collection
+
more unsuccessful masked adaptations
+
Stephen Rea
doing that Stephen Rea
I’m a cop, you idiot thing
but not in the Schwarzenegger way [d-lode]
+
those Matrix subway platforms
that made me wanna take the first train
to I’m leaving the theaterville
+
bangable bald chicks
that Bald Bull
hasn’t already banged
+
the art collection from DH‘s opening credits
+
the real man in black
not sum guy Joaquin Phoenix
sorta played in a movie
that everyone thinks weigh too highly of
+
Portman in the jail bait form we all know
and claim not to make love to
+
the opposite coolness of shooting
in an empty London
like they did in 28 Days Later
+
the mise en scene of
all things visual Franz Ferdinand
+
the real Anakin Skywalker
Sebastian Shaw
not
zebastard Hayden Chritisiaianianson
+
flubvs course
the real V
Recommended for those who like: Fry’s nose, Portman’s mole, and those who don’t care for Florence Henderson’s b-day suit [NSFW]
Possible Porno Name: V For Vaginal Beast Inspection (which I’m sure will one day become a hentai [NSFW])
Unsatisfied with this? Netflix any of the above mentioned moviezz, or the only goo Alan Moore book to movie conversion, From Hell… btw, where the fork is the berry talented Hughes’ bros next jazzle?
John Grisham’s Jizzum (aka Verdict): Sum Merit But No Stinkin Badges. Aight, so it’s kinda sorta entertainin’, but tsk-tsk, and a tsk-it, a triscuit, a steve trachsel, for this shoulda been Breast In Show no diggty doubt using a be-dazzler. I’m still perplexed and mad vexed with all this over ripe tomatoing. Guess they were juss happy it wasn’t Matrix IV: Convolutions
Recognize this fine piece of 80’s movie a$$?? What, Bob Geldof looking aloof while tight pink panted 80’s movie a$$ walks by doesn’t give it away give it away give it away now? Well if yer dumb and founded I’ll speak and spell it out for you. I’ve been on a huge Floyd binge of late, due to their appy-pearance @ Bob Geldof’s Live 8, so I decided to revisit a dear olde friend of mine, The Wallalbum and film. And den what happened? Besides wanting to hide in a closet/jump out of a window/never shave off my eyebrows, I have re-fallen in love all over again with that fine piece of 80’s movie a$$ that belongs to one Jenny Wright, who played a cum guzzlin groupie in search of a back stage pass to give up dat a$$ to Geldof’s Floyd, while ‘Young Lust’ [d-lode] played in the background. Which brought me to my next quests called tribe: What ever became of her and where can I become all over her? Well, we know for a fact that’s she’s smoked fags in at least one flick and according to Mr Skin, she’s appeared nude in 5 films. But from 1998 on her whereabouts are unknown. Someone dig Robert Stack outta the grave cause we’ve got an unsolved mystery on our hands!! And Jenny, if yer reading this, I’ll offer you twice as much as I offered Jimmy Smits to make an appearance at my sis’ wedding to come over to my castle wearing them pink spandex and get yer sisterhoods of yer ya-yas out. If not, any dirty woman/girl will do. Email if interested, but brunettes need not apply.
• This year’s Siren Festival was purty darn schvitzy. We were there for 5+ hours and probably heard a total of 25 minutes of music. We was too busy eatin’, ridin’, and losin’ 7 dollars playin’ a dice game on the pier. Of course we followed up the day with a night at the Bohemian Beer Garden on the opposite side of the MTA map. Note to V-Voice: Next year please get bands I actually want to see like Mott The Hoople and King Crimson. Want more? Hit up the Vegan
• And C-Belle, could you and yer bushy brows please stop being so sporking hottieolicuous? You are even more very fine than Veryfine drinks. So fine that you blow my mind. So let me ring your Belle and I’ll let you blow my Blow Pops. (And be kind and rewind). All I know is that at the theater where I’ll be peeping your latest joint, The Chumscrubber, they will mos def need a jizzmopper.
28. Jun, 2010 
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and 
. And den what happened? Besides wanting to hide in a closet/jump out of a window/never shave off my eyebrows, I have re-fallen in love all over again with that 
