Jackass Two - Electric Boogaloo
after the second show in the run that went smoothly (except for the t.v. that fell over during the scene change... but really... That's really nothing. Seriously) I decided to treat myself to jackass number two.
when I was doing mister sterling, the first jackass movie was the #1 movie one week. And everyone had that awful, knowing, showbiz, pessimistic attitude of "we're doing something really special, not just trying to get better ratings than America's funniest home videos" and I remember how heartbreaking that was, as that first jackass movie revealed so much truth about being an American teenaged boy. jackass number two may be less focused.
I don't know. I felt scared. I felt that unease that I felt when I first heard NWA. I walk by all these people in downtown Minneapolis who act tough. They have their star trek uniforms on (a comedian once pointed out that wearing a basketball jersey is the same as wearing a star trek uniform) and swagger and they're in groups and they intimidate middle aged white guys like me.
I defy anyone who thinks they are tough to spend 1/2 an hour with the guys from jackass. Even the biggest pussy in the jackass "crew" is tougher than anyone I've ever known. and, they are magnetic people.
I've been around Steve-o at Metal Skool and he is the #1 person in the room. Always. He is the Alpha Male. He gets all the women. You get to talk when he's finished. And it's just how he is. There's no desperate grab for attention. He just talks and you listen to him because he's the toughest, coolest, sexiest person you've ever seen.
I cannot fathom what being in a room with Johnny Knoxville must be like. It must be breathtaking. Steve-o's face is not really attractive like Knoxville. Knoxville looks like a movie star. Steve-o looks like a crazy person. But the body... I digress... I don't want to hang out with the jackass guys. I don't enjoy pain. I don't enjoy hurting people I love but I am so glad they do because I can go see them do shit in movies.
Bam cries. He gets scared and hurt and frustrated and cries. (he must be doing a show in Minneapolis) and he deserves it. He's trapped in a horse trailer with a fucking cobra. I'd cry, too.
There seems to be a lot of alcohol involved and that's a bit of a bummer and that's one of the reasons I don't think I'd want to hang out with them. Understand, I'm probably the last person they want to hang out with (though Steve-o *owns* summer school) because I'm such a ginormous puss, but they are what freedom is all about. freedom to hurt yourself. Freedom to make really bad decisions. Freedom to get your best friend to shit his pants.
The movie is pure testosterone and is everything art probably isn't and I felt less joy afterwards than I did after seeing the first one, but it makes me think about living and what it's about and all that crap. I don't know if they think about those things when they're freezing a scrotum to a block of ice... "By doing this, it will illustrate several things: youth, passion, mortality, fear, and the audience will examine their individual internal struggles with boundaries..." No.
My favorite things are the segments done with old-age makeup and unsuspecting "civilians". Behavioral tests. The section with the old man and the kid is beautiful. Getting a thug to get "PC" is lovely. the sex pistols used to be terrifying. "I am an animal..." Sounded like a voice from hell. It was the end of music. The end of the world. "what happens when they come to America? First the killer bees... Now this!!!!"
I thought about P&T and the bullet catch and how it's possible that Steve-o could try to catch a bullet. And it would be a personal victory for him perhaps the same way that the bullet catch is for P&T; but... Is it art? They're certainly getting away with something, mister Warhol.
And... how can anyone think David Blaine is anything? Let's see David Blaine get his dick chewed on by a snake. Let's see that, mister mind over matter. Asswipe. The jackass guys should just beat up David Blaine.
when I was doing mister sterling, the first jackass movie was the #1 movie one week. And everyone had that awful, knowing, showbiz, pessimistic attitude of "we're doing something really special, not just trying to get better ratings than America's funniest home videos" and I remember how heartbreaking that was, as that first jackass movie revealed so much truth about being an American teenaged boy. jackass number two may be less focused.
I don't know. I felt scared. I felt that unease that I felt when I first heard NWA. I walk by all these people in downtown Minneapolis who act tough. They have their star trek uniforms on (a comedian once pointed out that wearing a basketball jersey is the same as wearing a star trek uniform) and swagger and they're in groups and they intimidate middle aged white guys like me.
I defy anyone who thinks they are tough to spend 1/2 an hour with the guys from jackass. Even the biggest pussy in the jackass "crew" is tougher than anyone I've ever known. and, they are magnetic people.
I've been around Steve-o at Metal Skool and he is the #1 person in the room. Always. He is the Alpha Male. He gets all the women. You get to talk when he's finished. And it's just how he is. There's no desperate grab for attention. He just talks and you listen to him because he's the toughest, coolest, sexiest person you've ever seen.
I cannot fathom what being in a room with Johnny Knoxville must be like. It must be breathtaking. Steve-o's face is not really attractive like Knoxville. Knoxville looks like a movie star. Steve-o looks like a crazy person. But the body... I digress... I don't want to hang out with the jackass guys. I don't enjoy pain. I don't enjoy hurting people I love but I am so glad they do because I can go see them do shit in movies.
Bam cries. He gets scared and hurt and frustrated and cries. (he must be doing a show in Minneapolis) and he deserves it. He's trapped in a horse trailer with a fucking cobra. I'd cry, too.
There seems to be a lot of alcohol involved and that's a bit of a bummer and that's one of the reasons I don't think I'd want to hang out with them. Understand, I'm probably the last person they want to hang out with (though Steve-o *owns* summer school) because I'm such a ginormous puss, but they are what freedom is all about. freedom to hurt yourself. Freedom to make really bad decisions. Freedom to get your best friend to shit his pants.
The movie is pure testosterone and is everything art probably isn't and I felt less joy afterwards than I did after seeing the first one, but it makes me think about living and what it's about and all that crap. I don't know if they think about those things when they're freezing a scrotum to a block of ice... "By doing this, it will illustrate several things: youth, passion, mortality, fear, and the audience will examine their individual internal struggles with boundaries..." No.
My favorite things are the segments done with old-age makeup and unsuspecting "civilians". Behavioral tests. The section with the old man and the kid is beautiful. Getting a thug to get "PC" is lovely. the sex pistols used to be terrifying. "I am an animal..." Sounded like a voice from hell. It was the end of music. The end of the world. "what happens when they come to America? First the killer bees... Now this!!!!"
I thought about P&T and the bullet catch and how it's possible that Steve-o could try to catch a bullet. And it would be a personal victory for him perhaps the same way that the bullet catch is for P&T; but... Is it art? They're certainly getting away with something, mister Warhol.
And... how can anyone think David Blaine is anything? Let's see David Blaine get his dick chewed on by a snake. Let's see that, mister mind over matter. Asswipe. The jackass guys should just beat up David Blaine.
posted by mister snickers at 12:29 AM
1 Comments:
"I cannot fathom what being in a room with Johnny Knoxville must be like. It must be breathtaking."
I have never been in a room with Johnny Knoxville. However, I have stood on Western Ave. outside the White Horse in Johnny Knoxville's presence, and it was like... standing a few feet away from some guy talking on a cell phone. Didn't even notice him there until someone pointed him out. Maybe he only turns his magnet-o-charisma on when he's Jackassing.
It was Lahanan's birthday party, and over the previous half-hour or so, the White Horse had been filled up to ridiculous overcapacity by swarms of gay guys staging some sort of "happening" where they crowd into what they perceive as "straight" bars in massive numbers in order to "take over" for the night. Or something like that.
Anyway, it was ridiculously crowded and Knoxville poked his head in and immediately decided not to hang around, and he spent the next ten minutes or so wandering around talking on his cell and conferring with the buddy he was with, trying to figure out where to go instead, I guess.
Soon after, we all gave up on continuing Lanahan's birthday party. If an overcrowded room was too much for Johnny Knoxville, the rest of us theater weenies sure as heck couldn't hack it.
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