Silver Screen Skeeter Reviews "Enchanted"

Come November I like to go and get me some turkey, taters and cranberry sauce at the homeless shelter. Folks all around does their best to toss some coin at us and then forget about us so they can keep on buying caramel pizzas and electronic gadgets and still feel good about themselves. So we eats for free!

Well, a feller in the shelter was a Canarsie Indian! We hit it off real good just like in the Pilgrim and Indian days, because we didn’t put no stock in private property. Who’s to say this subway grate belongs to any man? I got as much right to sleep on it as you do! And you’re welcome to join me whenever you’re hankering to. And old Lenny, he agreed. So we hit it off nice.

Anyhow, after we ate out free Thanksgiving, we had a little scratch saved up since we didn’t have to pay for nothing, so me and Lenny, we went to see us a movie.

It was called Enraptured. There was a cartoon princess what turned into a real life girl right here in New York! It sure was fun to see that princess wander around some of the places I like to pee at night when nobody’s around.

She got chased by a mean witch. But the witch had nice bosoms. And the holiday Daddies who were sitting behind us kept whispering "She’s a real milk." I didn’t understand what they meant, till Lenny told me they was saying "milf." But I still didn’t understand.

Well, me and Lenny, we was drinking cranberry sauce mixed with paint thinner and right about the middle of the movie, Lenny started feeling bad about how all these white people took all the Indian land here in New York. Suddenly, he stood up and shouted I was cheating him out of his fair share of "fire water."

I said "Lenny, this ain’t fire water, it’s cranberry sauce and paint thinner!"

Then Lenny called me a liar and hit me over the head with his popcorn bucket. Them little kids started cheering and hollering but their moms wasn’t too happy. I thought I saw some dads laughing though.

Pretty soon, the ushers came and chucked us out on the street, so I didn’t see the ending. But that queen had nice bosoms, so I gives this one four out of five wine bottles.

Enchanted (2007)

Starring:
Starring: Amy Adams, James Marsden, Idina Menzel, Susan Sarandon, Patrick Dempsey
Directed by: Kevin Lima

Signs The End Is Nigh: New York Has Given Up

Time was when New York could be relied upon to roll out the murder stats to show off its street cred. But not any more. Because the cowards and lily-livered pansies that make up the nation's largest metropolis have gone soft. The murder rate in New York has dropped to an ignominious low not seen since good numbers became available in 1963. The Big Apple is on pace to have fewer than 500 homicides this year. Perhaps we should change the city's nickname to "The Big Pussy," "Magical Unicorn Village of Love," or "Candyland."

What in god's name is happening to New York? When did The City That Never Sleeps become such surrender monkeys? Was it the day a bank branch opened on every single corner that wasn't already occupied by a Starbucks/Subway/McDonald's? Was it when the Yankees stopped winning everything? Was it when the hipsters started moving to Brooklyn and brought their yuppie girlfriends, boyfriends and LP collections to Bushwick?

But more importantly, how can New York reclaim that foundational murderous rage that has kept the city throbbing, sweating and working since Peter Stuyvesant tore off his own leg to club the Native Americans off of HIS chunk of Manhattan?

Here are some recommendations to get New York back in it to win it with this murder rate thing. Come on, New York. You can do it.

1. Install fire axes and sawed off shot guns in every subway car: Imagine the subways as a mass-transit Mad Max with insane homeless men battling junior high schoolers whose Ritalin has worn off, disgruntled postal employees, out of work writers and the odd coked up wall street douchebag and you've got a good start on reclaiming past glories.

2. Board up every Starbucks in the city: The resulting caffeine withdrawal and screeching of angry coffee junkies scrabbling for a fix should be enough to set off the bodega owners, who've been making better coffee than Starbucks for 1/3 the price. Result? Class war.

3. Ban baby strollers from Park Slope: The uber-cultured, monied mommies will soon lose their veneer of civilization when they actually have to carry their whelps AND their breast pumps. Then when they realize the Starbucks is closed (#2, above), they're doubly likely to freak out and try to club the nanny with the Baby Mozart DVD, improving our "blunt impact" numbers.

4. Block all Spanish language television broadcasts: Combine this with #3 and watch the effect on the underpaid, maltreated illegal immigrant nannies from Guatemala who can't see their telenovelas anymore. The crankiness levels in half of Brooklyn's homes will skyrocket. "Look out, Mom, Guadalupe's got a knife! And she's not using it to cut my afternoon snack!" This is not even to speak of what withdrawal from the shouts of "GOOOOOOOOOOOOL!" will do to the underpaid illegal immigrant men who keep the city functioning.

5. Outlaw Pest Control: Between roaches, bed bugs and rats, New Yorkers without the services of exterminators will simply freak-the-fuck-out, day and night. After 48 hours, the paranoid entomophobic hallucinations kick in and suddenly it's "I thought he was a giant roach, officer!"

What should the new Stem Cell Method be put to work on?

Medicine routinely grows in leaps and bounds, but surely the new stem cell method is the most promising of advances in many a long year. How should we put this great leap forward to use?

--Use the new advances to cure loud cell-phone talkers

--Somehow revoke Rachel Ray

--Stop middle-class kids from calling each other "son"

--Recreate Al Pacino’s ability to act instead of just going "hoo-ah" and shouting in every role

--Silence the incessant beating of the bongos and tambourines in my mind

--Produce a race of super-obese behemoths to rule North America

--Stop Hollywood from making movies like Beowulf, Fred Claus and numbered installments of Saw

--Cure blogging

Diary of a Bushwick Bedbug, 1

Well hello there, you sweet, tasty thing. Where’d you come from? I bet with that snow white skin, the Belle and Sebastian record playing on repeat on your ipod as you slept and the pimples on your chubby liltte dumper, you’re from Minnesota. I don’t know why. Let me just throw Minnesota out there. What the hell?

You’re cute. And you taste good too—like you just went organic two, three months ago when you got to New York for college and your roommate turned you on to the chemical free life. But there's still that residual growth-hormone-laden cheese flavor. Maybe that's how I came up with Minnesota. Ah, what do I know? I wonder how long you been in the neighborhood.

Me? I been here for a while. That is, my people been here a while. Though they ain’t exactly people. You just set me up pretty good for a week, maybe ten days. Actually, if need be, I can survive on that little meal for 10, 12, maybe even 18 months, since you’re organic and all. And I can see I didn’t hardly leave no mark either, so you may not even notice I bit you at all. Sweet!

What’s that? You object to me calling this neighborhood Bushwick? East Williamsburg, you say? Hey, that’s got a nice ring to it. You go ahead and call it that if you want. I don’t mind. Sounds kind of exotic to me. I mean, Bushwick is what I always called it, but don’t let me stop you.

Thing is, the neighborhood’s been getting so interesting lately. Lots of variety. I bit a Japanese kid last week when he was sitting in that little café with the cushy chairs and reading that art magazine. He tasted like ginger. And a week before that, I bit some guy with a beard who was riding a fixed gear bike when he left his apartment. The walls of that place were all lined with funky looking canvases with string and shit hanging off ‘em. He tasted sort of like an olive mixed with a smoky humus, if that makes sense. Very rich.

I don’t know. Some of the locals are complaining, but I like what’s happening to the neighborhood. All this delicious new blood—so tasty, so adventurous. It’s nice. A bedbug could get used to this kind of variety. I think I like gentrification.

Anyway, I gotta crawl back into the baseboard since the sun’s getting ready to come up again.

See you soon, sweety.

Curtis

Haiku About Incest #3 Featuring Murderous Blackwater Mercenaries

Blackwater killers
Made me hump my own mother.
It was really hot.

Where The Fecking Hell are Shane MacGowan's Teeth? Part 2

Like a phoenix from the flames, the teeth of mighty Shane MacGowan will one day return from where the streams of whiskey are flowing, reassemble in the maw of the master and reveal his great purpose which has, to this time, remained secret. There are those who theorize about the powers of the lost teeth and their current whereabouts. And there are those who couldn't care less. At Blogbovine, we fall in the former camp, but really only just.


Theory #3: Trying to convince the Rebbe Menachem Schneerson to return as the Moshiach. Since his death (or, should we say, the perception of his death?) one prominent MacGowanian dental theory holds that at least one (possibly more) of Shane’s teeth is roaming the American southwest in an undercover Mitzvah Tank conducting an ongoing halakha argument to convince the Rebbe to return as the Moshiach and, oi, the argument it’s been! What’s a tooth gotta do to get a posek to side with him anyway?


Theory #4: Guarding the secret of Jimmy Hoffa’s whereabouts. Shane may not be a man who can respect a good secret, but his teeth sure can. One of the mush-mouthed singer’s canines is engaged in maintaining a magic spell to obscure the location of the erstwhile Teamster tough’s shallow grave, somewhere outside Detroit and surprisingly close to a former MC5 rehearsal space. Now, if any corpse-seeker gets too close, his mind is buffeted by the duel wailing guitars of Wayne Kramer and the late Fred "Sonic" Smith, resulting in nausea, disorientation and temporary amnesia. For a reason known only to the tooth, the would-be ghoul invariably turns up in a nearby diner, having ordered a large chocolate shake and onion rings.

Theory #5: In A Tolkien-ian Alternate Universe...
Three teeth for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of plaque,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord in his dark shack
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Tooth to rule them all,
One Tooth to find them,
One Tooth to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

What Will Blackwater Do If Forced to Leave Iraq?

Here at Blogbovine, we hate to see people lose their jobs for ANY reason. But we won't be shedding any tears for the controversial, murderous mercenaries at Blackwater Worldwide, because New York City Schools Chancellor Joel Klein has already started a pilot program at P.S. 343 in Flushing, Queens to improve the school's security situation. What have they done so far?

--Guidance counselor shot and killed for "recklessly eyeballing" Blackwater convoy heading to the cafeteria

--Parent coordinator and kindergarten teachers waterboarded to get info on kindergarten student Juan Chrisantos’ booger joke

--Blackwater ops granted immunity in corporal punishment cases involving "enemy combatants" in grades K-5

--Special Education class 4-7 subjected to three periods of stress positions for making fart noises

--Mercenaries provide at-risk chorus members with homework help 3 days a week

--Blackwater Operatives utilize silencers to assassinate Assistant Principal Matthews and Math Coach Elwes

--Off-duty Blackwater Mercenaries string Thanksgiving decorations with excess piano wire garottes in school library

--Photographer and assistant cut down in a blaze of gunfire during picture day mishap involving flash photography and nervous Blackwater Ops