Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Dear Denise Richards,
I want my sympathy back. I should have known. All the Denise's that I've ever known in my life (including one's played by Lisa Bonnet aka Lilakoi Moon) have been dirty hoes. You are no exception.
I spent all day Sunday feeling sorry for your whorey ass. I read your affidavit on the Smoking Gun. I worried for you and hoped that you were getting help for your battered woman's syndrome. I thought, man if Carlos Estevez can change his name to Charlie Sheen and pretend he was white, who knows what he could be capable of...right? I mean, he called you a dick face. He said he hoped you got cancer in your face! He slept with prostitutes in Encino. He showed you Nicole Simpson autopsy photos. He gambled away your Wild Things money. This man fucked with your shit.
I wondered how you and Lola and Sam were dealing with the crisis. If they knew that their daddy was a coke loving, pill popping, gambling, sex addict and how that went over at the playground. I thought, it must be so lonely for you now that you can't go to set and play "Is Jon Cryer gay or straight?" What's left, you know?
But then...but then....
You go traipsing around town with your best friend's husband. You tell the world, without saying it, that you were the "other woman".
You fucked it all up. You could have been Jennifer Aniston, yo. What's your problem? You just threw away a big settlement. Think of the syndication money. You could have been on the cover of Vanity Fair! Ok, well maybe Redbook, but beggars can't be choosers. Mensa! You blew it.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Ok, so I finally watched the HBO movie Walkout at the urging of my hermanito.
I had seen all of the mass emails going to the gelats in LA when they were filming asking people to come be extras (and to bring their own clothes and a burrito for lunch, cause they were on a budget, yo) so I wasn't holding my breath that this was going to be a cinematic masterpiece. I mean, when there isn't craft service, you're destined to have bigger problems that can't be solved with giving everyone a Kraft handi-snack, y ya.
So last Saturday I sat down to watch the movie with some hot chicharones, a diet coke and my check list of "Things That Have to be in Latino Movies to Make them Down Enough":
1. Directed by Edward James Olmos. Check.
2. Produced by Moctezuma "I made Mi Familia" Esparza. Check
3. Starring primos, hermanos, and tias of the producer and director. Check.
4. Latina who's changed her name to seem more white. Laura Harring. Check.
5. Opressive white characters who in real life are actor gelat sympathizers. Check.
6. Machista's keeping their mujeres down by making them cook tortillas. Check.
7. Selena song. She wasn't born yet, so I'll let that one slide.
8. Split screen montages. Check.
9. Robert Rodriguez cast off. Check.
10. Line about Latinos working with "their hands". Check.
11. Kind of Latina, but kind of not lead. Check.
Um excuse me Edward James Olmos & Moctezuma Esparza, why do you have to put every fucking third primo from your mom's side all up in that shit? I mean, seriously? Seriously. Just because they are related to you, doesn't mean they can act. For once, I would like to see a movie about Latinos that isn't a squandered opportunity. Make a quality film about your issue or take a freaking cue from Robert Rodriguez. He makes mainstream films about characters who happen to be Latino. It's not about your primo getting his SAG card. Chingao. I realize that this movie was about historical events, but it doesn't mean it has to also be about nepotism and you guys jacking each other off. Whatever. I'd much rather go see Spy Kids 4, than see another rehash of you guys reliving the Zoot Suit movement. It's over, you're viejitos. Get over it.