I claimed that the last column's that guy was responsible for one of the greatest monologues in the history of film. Truth be told, it really isn't the same without the visual of him shadowboxing (or the gold four-finger rings flashing in the sun), but here is the monologue of Radio Raheem from Do the Right Thing:

Let me tell you the story of "Right Hand, Left Hand." It's a tale of good and evil. Hate: It was with this hand that Cane iced his brother. Love: These five fingers, they go straight to the soul of man. The right hand: the hand of love. The story of life is this: Static. One hand is always fighting the other hand; and the left hand is kicking much ass. I mean, it looks like the right hand, Love, is finished. But, hold on, stop the presses, the right hand is coming back. Yeah, he got the left hand on the ropes, now, that's right. Ooh, it's the devastating right and Hate is hurt, he's down. Left-Hand Hate K.O.ed by Love.

I thought that I could totally hook it up with a youtube video of it, but this is the best I (youtube) have (has) to offer.

Whenever I see a girl yawn, it always makes me think of oral sex. Does this happen to you? Don't you think about just throwing your guy right in there? It's like an invitation or something. I mean, who doesn't like oral sex? Thinking about oral sex...

How do you people drink beer? Every time I drink beer (ew) in earnest, I just feel like I am trapped in the bathroom, peeing my brains out. It is like a race against sobriety--a race that I cannot win. How do you drink fast enough to actually get drunk (before your body expels the "alcohol," that is). Plus all that beer makes me feel bloated, and I like to feel sexy when I drink.

I also hate people that don’t know that when I say, "Oh, that place doesn’t have alcohol," I mean that they don’t have alcohol. Beer is not alcohol. It is beer. Same goes for wine, except it is wine.

Watching Empire and Return the other day, and I must say, Princess Leia aged faster than dog years. She may have even aged faster than porn years. Despite all that, I will give her this: Jabba wasn't the only thing getting choked (on his barge) in Return. Also, I recall seeing Empire in the theatre as a 4 year old and totally not believing that Vader was really Luke's father. I just didn’t see how it could be possible, and I figured Vader was saying that just because he'd do anything to get Luke over to the dark side. I used to be so idealistic...or something. I'm like Orwell that way.

I write on my hand all the time these days. As a teacher, remembering stuff is super-important. I write on my hand more than I have since middle school. Sometimes I will go to write something on my hand and the pen that I grab isn’t good enough. I will know from past experience (schema!) that said pen just doesn’t have the staying power. How weird is that? I get so paranoid of forgetting something important for school (and thereby rendering myself in the figurative position of "teaching naked") that at times I have even been known to trace the note I wrote on my hand after the shower since the soap made it fade.

I always get a great view when the Giants (ew) have a post-game fireworks show. I often run up to the roof to get the best view. While I am up there, however, in the back of my mind (sorry, no vacancies) all I can think about is, "Did the Giants (ew) win?" That is the part that cracks me up about post-game fireworks shows. These "promotional" games are advertised in advance, so the show must happen (did you feel me fight off the urge to say, "Go on..."?). I think it is so ironic that the home team could lose a game, and then fans can celebrate with a big, fancy fireworks show. Losers (celebrating their loserdom). I guess it could be pawned off as a consolation prize, but who are they really fooling. That same show is a thousand times better after a win than a loss.

PS The Giants (ew) lost that game.

Since my 10th graders know this, I think you should too. Question marks go inside of the quotations if the dialogue is a question. If the dialogue is not a question, but it is a question about the dialogue (such as in the previous paragraph), then the question mark goes outside the quotation mark. Thank you.

I was watching House and I learned that fetuses pee inside of their moms. Ew. But I guess it isn’t that big of a deal, because their pee can just pour out of mom's vagina along with mom's pee. This got me thinking though: what happens to the fetus' poop? Granted, I would imagine that fetuses don’t take monster poops (or barely poop at all for that matter), but does that mean that fetus poop comes out of the mom's vagina? That would be so cool/gross.

I must admit that as I typed that, I was really hoping, for my band's sake, that the plural of fetus would be feti. Or fetii. It's moot, however, since it ain't.

My ideal mate is supposed to be someone who loves the crust of the pizza and the hard edges of the brownies--so that they would complete me--but even when I've dated that girl, it never worked out that way. I used to think that it was because she was a liar and she just told me that she liked the parts that I deemed superfluous because then I would like her more (consider her a more valuable/complementary teammate and all). What I've realized is that it's not a matter of her liking the crusty parts more or lying to me about it--it's about how girls just want to take away from you whatever you have that makes you happy.

We all know that parking in The City can be a motherfucker. It makes me a little crazy when I am in the car with someone who is looking for parking in my neighborhood and they are driving. They either drive slower than molasses (oi, dead metaphor--how about ...the democratic process), stopping at every driveway thinking that it is a spot, or they drive way too fast (like a myopic dictator?), not giving them or me the chance to actually identify a spot. And in The City, you can't think you saw a spot and come around the block to double check. Shit will be gone by then. When there is a spot, you stick the nose of your fucking car into it, even if it is across the street, and you lay motherfucking claim. Fuck going to the intersection for a legal u-turn. The spot won't be yours anymore. You 3 point right into that spot and wait it out. Anyway, so everyone drives either too fast or too slow looking for a spot. This is easy for me to say, of course, since I have intimate knowledge (oi, intimate schema) of the nuances that are parking in my hood. I know what areas are more likely to yield a spot, and I know when to not bother slowing down because there's a fire hydrant or it's motorcycle parking or the spot is just too small. It's like being the home team. If all else is even between 2 teams, you gotta give the odds to the home team. Mmmm, sports metaphors.

The point of all that was to introduce a new term. When you are driving around, looking for parking, and you think you've found a spot and you get all excited and think to yourself, "This really is going to be an awesome night," but then you pull up and the spot isn’t really a spot, or when you are about to go left at the intersection but think you see a spot up ahead so you don’t go left but the spot isn’t really a spot and now you are stuck on this fucking street and won't be able to go left again for 4 more blocks because that's just how it is in some parts of The City, I like to refer to the pseudo-parking spot as "Fool's Gold."

To summarize the previous paragraph:
When you see what you think is a parking spot but pull up to it just to be disappointed (because it isn't a parking spot), I call that pseudo-parking spot "Fool's Gold." Thank you.

I love making lists at least as much as the next person. Here is the very comprehensive "to do" list that I made for myself of goals and dreams to accomplish over my just-ended spring break.

This week's that guy has 2 major claims to fame. First, he has a pretty substantial that guy brother. I wish I could figure out a way to search for the best that guy families of all time. Second, he is considered such a Roger Ebert look-alike that he was cast as Mayor Ebert in the film Godzilla. Now I know that Roger Ebert is the pimp-shit in Chicago, but I'm pretty sure that he isn't the mayor. That said, Ebert's IMDB page is actually considerably more interesting than any other I've come across in quite some time. But I digress. The that guy of the week's films include:
Art School Confidential
Elf
Mod Squad
Safe Men (where he played the inimitable Jewish gangster, "Big Fat Bernie Gayle")
The Road to Wellville
No Way Back
No Escape (one of the coolest, most underrated movies of all time)
Blank Check
Amos and Andrew
Newsies (a movie about Chris and Rafi's hats)
Barton Fink
The Closer
Maniac Cop II (tagline: You have the right to remain silent...forever!)
Harlem Nights (Eddie and Richard...together? Forget about it)
Eight Men Out (Shoeless Joe alert)
The Postman Always Rings Twice (for some reason I thought this was an ancient movie, but it's from 1981)

For the record, his brother's roll call:
National Security
Godzilla (bro power)
Mother's Boys (Jamie Lee's boobs alert--sweet)
Robocop II
The Running Man (dude, he was the network lawyer who Arnold stabbed in the back with a pen after signing his disclaimer contract--that's a noteworthy role)
Dream a Little Dream 2 (the elusive sequel to the highly influential original. That was probably 80% redundant)

Clearly Mike's film career pees on Ken's, but for the record, though both have done well for themselves on TV, Ken pees on Mike in that department.

by Justin
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