Diff'rent Strokes Indeed....

"They'll have theirs, and you'll have yours, and I'll have mine.
And together we'll be fine...."

Well, Bret had his, and now Gary's had his. I can't say that everyone will be fine, but they were indeed Diff'rent Strokes.

Looks like Sam's gonna end up being the sole heir to Mr. Drummond's fortune.

This is Red Rocks, this is The Edge.

I really have no problem with the fact that Trevor Smith wants people to call him Busta Rhymes, or that O'Shea Jackson goes by his nom de scène: Ice Cube. But can anyone really explain why we're still calling this douche Bono? Or even better yet, why his band mate is called The Edge?

Really, does this guy introduce himself that way?

"Hi, I'm Bono, and this is The Edge, can I have a double scoop of rocky road in a sugar cone with sprinkles?"

As pretentious as the name The Edge is, Bono is far worse. Did you know it's actually a shortened version of his original stage name Bono Vox (good voice), I guess it's classy because it's in Latin, but as far as I'm concerned there exist only four people in the history of the world that are entitled to be called by either a single name, or something that includes the article "the". They are Hitler, Cher, and The Wild Samoans (I happen to have the only existent photograph of all four of them together).



So let's move past this shit, the guy's name is Paul. Can we just agree to call him Paul?

Need this outfit to appear in my closet right now!

If the '70s were wrong I don't want to be right. This is a picture of me circa 1977. My very first in a long line of power suits. My pose says, you will listen to me, even if there's a load of shit in my pants. I wish I commanded that type of respect now.

There is another

I have a confession, I've been secretly writing a second blog under the pen name Theodore Calvin for the last twelve years. It mostly deals with me discussing how if I had Carl Weather's mustache the world would be my oyster. What you disagree? Are you saying I wouldn't be the most powerful man in Hollywood if I had a black man's mustache?

When I am not working on my Carl Weather's mustache blog, you will find me writing posts for the barry rides part douche. It's a little something I through together to bore people with my narcissistic obsessive materialism. I think it will provide you with minutes of entertainment. Give it a try if you aren't too busy thinking of Carl Weathers.

Gonna Be Your Man In Motion, All I Need Is A Pair Of Wheels...

Actually, two pairs of wheels, or possibly 3 wheels depending on how much money I'm willing to invest in this thing....



Two stories from my youth:

1) When I was in elementary school, we were forced to sing in the chorus. Our music teacher thought it would make it more interesting to have us sing contemporary songs like "St. Elmo's Fire (Man in Motion)" by John Parr (it was 1985). Aside from being a sweet jam, did you know it was about a Canadian that rolled around the world in a wheelchair? Choke on that Terry Fox. Anyways, despite cementing my hatred for singing in groups (I would never attend the actual chorus performances) the song stuck with me over the years because; aside from playing Murderball, wheeling around the world is probably the coolest thing a person in a wheelchair can do.

2) A couple years ago I was crushed under a vending machine while trying to shake out a Snickers bar (I know what you're thinking; "how did a vending machine fall on him while he was on the toilet?", sadly though, I'm not speaking figuratively, I was literally shaking the machine for candy and it fell on me). Anyhow, the injuries I sustained from my attempt to cheat the vending machine earned me the pleasure of being wheelchair-bound in a physical rehab hospital for several weeks while I recovered (never got the fucking candy bar). Being in a rehab place with a bunch of quads I learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the type of wheelchair they're in, for instance: if a person is in a standard issue upright wheelchair (think Born On The Fourth Of July) you don't need to feel sorry for them, they're probably only temporarily injured and they'll walk again. If a guy's in a sleek fiberglass one with no armrests and tiny little wheels up front, he's a cripple and probably craps in a bag. But it's not the end of the world, someday, he may be able to be an IT guy or something. Finally if you see a guy in one of those motorized chairs with the blow-tube, he's fucked. Might as well wheel him out by the dumpsters and let the rats eat him, he's not going to contribute anything to society (again, I know what you're thinking, "what about Stephen Hawking" - well fuck Stephen Hawking, I have a theory that he's actually retarded and it was his fancy talking wheelchair that wrote all those books...). But I digress..

Spending several weeks in a chair got me thinking, could I apply for the wheelchair division of the NYC Marathon? I've gone to the website and haven't found anything that requires you to be crippled. Even if it did, I still walk with a limp from my candy-caper, so I'm golden either way.

Bottom line, just like John Parr's lyrics inspired me as a child, I want to pay it forward and be an inspiration for every lazy, out-of-shape, able bodied person by entering the NYC Marathon's wheelchair division and coming in second, then while the winner is celebrating his victory, I want to get out of my chair and moonwalk around him to show him that I can still walk. That's what a real champion would do...

Take me where my future's lying, St. Elmo's Fire.

17 again no longer enrages me

About a year ago I wrote a post about how the movie 17 Again enraged me even though I didn't see it. Something about how going back in time would do nothing for me but probably get me arrested for standing on a cardboard box in time square while spouting nonsense about the future of the interweb and 9/11. Hopefully I would also talk about how black people came from outer space and they're awaiting the mothership's return. Wow tangent, anyway I finally got to see 17 Again and damn it, I liked it. I was all wrong about this movie. It doesn't have Mathew Perry traveling through time and ending up in his younger self in the 80's, it has him stay in the present day but suddenly be turned into Zac Efron. Sort of like a fountain of youth tale that includes him becoming a Disney heartthrob. This is much more believable and watchable. I too want to find my fairy godmother who can transform me back into the hot teenager I once was so my youth is not wasted twice. Yeah that's right I was definitely super hot and not a giant q-tip with ears. I have now watched this movie at least four times. I won't get that time back but some how am okay with it.