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Posts Tagged ‘Snoop’

W is for. . ..

August 19, 2008 Leave a comment

This is about two disparate TV shows. One is now history, the other continues. Both focused on drug dealers in the early 21st Century. The shows are The Wire and Weeds. I’m not going to promote the latter, and as the former has finished it’s run, I’ll just state the obvious. If you want them they are available for purchase or rent.

Weeds has as its premise, upper middle class wife in California, suddenly widowed, & heavily in debt becomes a pot dealer. In the most cloying flashbacks ever, her late husband is shown as some kind of saint. The barf factor is high and doesn’t stop. The writer(s) obviously got their street smarts from an old Starsky & Hutch show. This woman wouldn’t last a day in the real world of dopers. In fact, she’d more likely be a vic on a CSI slab, for a nice crossover sweeps stunt, those network humps love.

The cast, who I decline to mention by name, is so filled with cliched posers & over-acters, it appears that was the goal in casting them. It’s garbage, the kind of program that thinks having a cameo by Snoop Dog is the height of clever. There is a character named Snoop in The Wire. That Snoop is one of the scariest bitches in history. Not TV history—all of history. If only she’d shown up on that MILF Meets Dogg ep! Now that would’ve been stunt casting!

The Wire is nothing short of the best TV show ever. Sure it has cops, lawyers & drug dealers. The like of which has rarely been seen in a major television production. The writing & acting burned with verisimilitude. Partly because, some of those people were from the streets of Baltimore, where The Wire is set. Characters were multi-layered and had story arcs which went from the first episode of the first season to the last of the series, a five year span.

I’ve stated before, nothing on TV, especially the so called news is that real, all the time. No work of fiction puts you there, it just can’t do it. Even when you’re there, you miss some things. Life is Rashomon, like it or not. By accident, the news gets it correct occasionally. When a TV writer gives the extra effort to give the viewer a genuine catharsis, it’s as gratifying as it is rare.

The characters of The Wire are written and acted so well, you can’t help but care about even the bad guys. As with most good writing, it was a close call, who was good. No one was left without a flaw. Most of them the tragic kind. Any attempt to choose the standouts in this would virtually demand a cut & paste of the cast list. Even as I write this, I keep thinking of how to limit it to maybe three, and it’s impossible.

And there are astonishingly fluid relationships. Things you don’t see coming, even when you’re looking for it. Some of these actors created characters so indelible, they will be forever recognized. Sure, that happens a lot. But I assure you mostly it happens due to quantitative reasons. This is purely qualitative.

For me, there is more evil in a scene of Weeds where a leering Snoop Dogg is rapping how he’d like to fuck Mary Louise Parker, than any sociopathic hit Snoop executes in The Wire. She is doing her job from her POV, as we see it, a reprehensible job, given impetus by a world she didn’t create, just uses her regrettable skill to survive it. The teleplay of the other Snoop has him being him all right, but it’s a contrived scene born of the fevered imagination of a lameass, sitting in her SoCal dreamland.

Weeds, named after one of the many slang terms for marijuana, belongs in the weeds. The Wire, which is cop talk for a phone tap, electric with a message, pumped along a wire from the twisted soul of an inner city nightmare to the true heart of art.

Just Joshing. . ..

May 21, 2008 1 comment

I’m wondering. Why is there only one Jewish guy on record named Jesus? sure it was Jesu in Latin. And Yeshua in Semitic. Does that mean it’s disguised here in the End Times as Joshua? Why do all the fat white phoney Christians in the world accept the Romanticizing of their Super Saver’s, er um Christian, name? They don’ t care for the Pope & Roman Catholics. Or Italians for that matter, except for pizza & the execrable mac & cheese they scarf down. As a person of Latin heritage, I’m offended. Now imagine all those swell hymns & Christian Rock songs with Josh replacing the word Jesus. The Brits have a great word that rhymes with Josh—tosh. Look it up later.

BTW for all people who think Hispanics exclusively own the rights to the Latin title, Wiki again. Italians are the original Latinos. And we have better moustaches, if you don’t count those schifosa on that funky db island dangling off the boot heel. So what’s the deal? All those vatos glossed Jesus, low riding through life, while no Josh’s get Heavenly discounts toward huaraches & sangria. Just kidding. They can get it wholesale.

Which reminds me, I don’t want to live in a world where Larry King has appeared in more movies than James Dean. Jesus! he has to have video of every macher in Hollywood with donkeys ( and I don’t mean Democrats—well, maybe I do )! He sucked on radio in 1978. He hasn’t improved. Though I once vowed to use Larry’s excuse for never reading a guest’s book: he wanted to come fresh to the material, just like the viewer. Ha ha ha. Priceless. Larry was too busy looking for comps on the crab cakes at Duke Ziebert’s. Or more likely, a new Mrs. King. Thank God he isn’t a Latin of any stripe. He does resemble a Preying Mantis, albeit he obviously doesn’t mate within his species, though we could only hope.

Now a word of avuncular advice to young performer Taylor Swift. Your people should all be jailed for allowing you to be seen in a pic with that reptilian Snoop Dung, much less in the same state. Are you a 3D blonde joke? wearing that hoody on that Country show was lame enough. Did 1988 just get around to the trailer park? She’s got talent to spare, but it’s migrating South faster than the Canadien geese, and leaving behind exactly what they do. Word to the urban styling crew: I had that hoody/puffy vest look in 1968. That, and I could rhyme better too.

Don’t get me wrong playas. You can have all the thuggy ho-pimpettes you like. Just keep your mutant bug orbs & feelers off the golden songbirds. Or I’ll order up some Starship Troopers to fry your insectoid asses. Denise Richards was an advance scout. So, if Larry King gets caught in the laser blast. . . oops.

PS Denise–call me. I’ll make you forget Charlie, Richie and Neve. Literally.