In certain cultures a man with body hair equals DEAD SEXY...

Ok, ok, ok, ok... I know I am woefully behind on my music and movie reviewing but I'll catch up I promise. Seems some of my readers didn't heed my warning about I am Legend and watched that snoozer anyway. So, if my suffering or enjoyment and warning there of aren't being taken into consideration I figure I got a little slack.
ANYWAY
This brings me to my post this morning. Ever the traveling one, your hero, me the Untan man has found something of interest. It seems here in the United States a dangerous trend to have men hairless has taken a greater hold over society. Something that I myself find disturbing being gifted with enough body hair as to not confuse me with Bigfoot but rather a man with testosterone in acceptable levels. So I searched out from our shores to find another place for my now indication of need to be banished to the island of misfit toys. Wouldn't you know it.... I found such a place... and that place is ENGLAND BITCHES... and here is my proof. Seems some poor souls in the UK haven't been gifted with a winter coat of manly-ness and thus the Chest Wig was developed. Seems over there the hairy chest is a marker of macho and something liked by the ladies... There is no talk of body waxing... There is no talk of tweezin (which I am a fan of if you have a unibrow). Nay, there in the misty isles they want their man furred. To Hell with a "Happy Trail"... the women their want a Happy Super Highway from neck to nuts. Ah, the freedoms the men there must enjoy... For shame cruel USA with your waxing and plucking. GOD SAVE THE QUEEN AND THE UNITED KINGDOM... a place for chest hair freedom. Oh, and did I mention most if not all there are pale... as in untan... I'm fucking going, that's it.

For all you non-believers....

I have gotten a question or two concerning a couple of pictures I have up on here sprinkled through my "Commentary on the things I find along my travels", and one of the questions is did I really take the picture or not. Some yes, some no... but here is proof that the weird is something I seem to run across from time to time. Now my children sit back and take a gander as this offering. Apostolic Spoken Motion Ministry... seriously I got nothing... it's like shotting fish in a barrel. You know I bet this means Shakira's hips really don't lie... and here I thought those fuckers couldn't talk, except say "hey this bitch has a double jointed anus". "Spoken Motion Ministry"... hip thrust "God is good"... spin, hump, hump "Sin is bad"... bustin a move "Jesus died for our sins"... break dancing "what better metaphor for the Passion"... if Moses had the Jitterbug fuck those ole Commandments. Need I say that Salsa, Meringue, Lambada, and Free Stylin' are all tools of SATAN.
Just look at this proof...Hang on folks I gotta do the "Robot" after seeing that evil image of devil woman and her fairy dance partner... I bet they had just done the Tango in the Ballroom Coven just after they sacrificed a baby at their Black Mass/Baco Raton Leisure Center (Bingo every Monday and Thursday and every third Saturday for our Gentile friends)...
I know a woman who used to be a dancer... (professional not erotic). Could she have been like me and praising Satan with her dancing as I did by just listening to Black Sabbath and Danzig totally unaware?
This dancing at the DDA or Divine Dance Academy is also Prophetic Dance at that... so not only are they worshiping Jesus with a "Boot Scootin" and "Two-Steppin" but they are also telling of the future second coming as well. They Stomp da Yard and you best get yer ass in line cause the lord be a'coming soon. Cloggin and it's a call to repent... You know I'd almost pay my dancer I know to go take a class or two of this... that would be a hoot... fuck it now you know what you're getting for your birthday... wait... I wonder if I can say I'm going to church and come home reeking of stripper and say I tithed and got a powerful message?
This sign that I saw magnetized on both sides of a car in the Ingle's parking lot gave me hope... Look how far we've come since Footloose. Town kept down by a preacher taken over by Satan and forbidding dance... and now there are schools that teach "Spoken Motion Ministry". Left, right, left, right, one, two, hip thrust, dip and spin... you're saved.

Tornadoes, Chasing rainbows, and busting my ass

Last week there was a rash of really bad weather. Atlanta was hit with a tornado which I think was the first in its recorded history. The Untan one over at my mother's house and she being one who did not live too far from said action had to take cover the next day as tornado sirens started blaring. There was rain, thunder and lightning, and hail the size of quarters. We retreated to the basement only for the weather to pass as quickly as it came. The cool breeze along with rain was all that was left of the impending bad weather that was dropping tornadoes left and right in and around my area. Upon coming out of our hole we found ourselves on the porch and over to the side I noticed something and just happened to have my camera phone with me. It was a rainbow. Now, I'd never seen one that close and being the romantic idealic fool that I am; my first thought that rattle out was.... pot'o'gold. So, my ass went Cadillacin like a large draft horse with a serious case of rabies running off the porch. The end of the rainbow was only 20 yards from me.... but as is the case in most of my cautionary tales of woe; the ground was rather slick from the rain which was just passing to the east. I slide I think a good 4 feet before ass meat hit where once were my feet.
Did this stop your hero... oh no... it did not. Pushing myself back up to my feet I continued to the rainbow's end but with a noticeable hitch in my step and borderline terminal injury to my pride which was made no better by the rather loud doubled over cackling coming from the porch... (ah a mother's love)
Anyway, I made it to the rainbow... alas there was no gold but it was definitely different standing in a rainbow. You could see the colors and it was just like being bathed in light in every hue of the spectrum. So, I can add that to my list of things I've done that most haven't and that is I have stood in a rainbow. Sure enough like all things beautiful it too did fade but the beauty still remains in my mind. On a side note I did not start singing Judy Garland numbers or have a weird craving from ruby shoes or a witch killin... but Mom's dog is a Cairn Terrier which is the same breed as Toto... hmmmmmm

I am Legend (I am Rehashed Zombie movie... what do you get when you combine 28 Days Later and the movie Outbreak?)

I am Legend... you know when I saw this movie I wanted to like it because I'm a fan of this kinda movie. What kinda movie you might be wondering? Well, the kind where there are mutants and or zombies about to wipe everyone out and you got some sole survivor that is either gonna cure them all or kill them all.
Hmmmmmm...... uh Untan do you need to issue a spoiler alert you might ask!?
No, not really I will say rent 28 Days Later which is a better movie of this genre. Imagine the lead character is Will Smith instead of some thin Irish actor with the best Irish last name Murphy and it's not London but New York City and you're almost all the way there. This movie(I am Legend) offered me nothing new and the zombie/infected were massively CGI'ed, where they weren't in 28 Days Later which just shock me up more when they looks like for reals people and shit.
Saint doctors working against a disease was done better in my opinion in the movie Outbreak with Dustin Hoffman. I remember watching Outbreak all twisted up saying "catch that damn monkey already". In I am Legend I just wondered when the dog was gonna get killed a la Ole Yeller style.
This genre is pretty played out and needs to take a break for a few years and reboot the idea. Will Smith is an OK actor sorta like the Bryant Gumble of black actors. The idea of the movie was better in the graphic comic book... excuse me adults read graphic novels... right... wake up losers it's a comic book and yes I'm gonna take your lunch money.
So, if I am Legend comes on cable watch it if you got an hour or two to kill otherwise it's easily missed and not regretfully so.
I am Legend? More like I am Tired Rehashed Genre...
This movie got a rating on the Biscuit Movie Rating System of:
1 leg shake and a constipated look with shrug

Nothing on TV in the dark a.m. hours could lead to STD's....

This lament has been heard by everyone that suffers insomnia, "there's nothing on TV". Truly, it is the land of info-mmercials and shitty movies you'd never watch if you had something to do. The thing that I find interesting is how it's a commentary on our culture. You see info-mmercials on getting a bigger cock through pills or pump... you see pills to make sex last 2 hours longer than a week and maintain terminal erection for 3.9 hours because god in heaven help you if it goes 4 hours akimbo...you then see ways to become independently wealthy from people just dying to share their secret pathway to that said wealth... you then have (my favorite) the Girls Gone Wild video offers and honestly what guy among us hasn't almost been convinced to order one of those videos... you then have love lines where you call in and meet a mate or partake in a 1.95 a minute gherkin jerkin... then the mother of them all the Valtrex commercials.
See it started to make total sense to me... it's like I figured out the code or broke into the matrix. See you get the pills or pump and get a bigger hot hole humping hockey stick. Then you get the magic pill to keep your Asian scarin Godzilla piss pop hard because your ticker just can't pump up your new mutant slobber harmonica. Then you realize something that would make John Holmes give you a thumbs up ain't all it takes cause you need the money to get the pad to do the said "ahh push it" indoors. So, now your buying three legged jeans and have a pill to keep it so it opens doors, and you also now have a pimp palace from the proceeds of your road to wealth idea that the government don't want you to know about. Then it hits you... the lady you bagged has no time for a 3 hour hump and dump session because she's paying a sitter by the half hour, and so you buy the Girls Gone Wild videos which desensitize you to any woman you could really get in real Hee Haw Hell Georgia. Then desperate for the wild thing you call the hook-up line and something visits you that looks like an English sailor from 1700's with a serious case of scurvy but you don't care because that huge cherry poppin daddy has made you lite headed and you need relief after just two hours of it doing nothing but being a sun dial. You do the deed and boom a month later you are wondering why you feel like you're pissing mace. Then you get the Valtrex... thus completing your journey through late night TV. See... I told you I had it figured out.

Things that make me go "hmmmmm"...

This past weekend I heard from a few of my friends that I am a wordsmith. Now, the way it was said wasn't a cut-down or tongue-in-cheek comment either, but something that seemingly meant with a large amount of belief of the truth behind the said comment. So, being the curious bitch I am I looked up the definitive definition of wordsmith. Seems the Merriam-Webster Dictionary online explains wordsmith as follows; a person who works with words; especially : a skillful writer. I got to say that I felt a lot flattered by this, but I think the praise is unwarranted. Yes, I have heard this drum beat being pounded out constantly over the same ole song my fan of one has been playing, but I figured love had way of rose tinting the truth to be something more than it really is in reality.
I was then told by a couple of people I barely know that I have a way with words. I know I am of no great intellect and so it makes me wonder has conversation between peers really fallen upon such hard times vocabulary-wise? Wouldn't it be a simple to just say that I am just above average with the words I spew forth. The fact is I know that isn't the case either because if I were such I wordsmith I would have held certain words inside and not let them fly. Words have a way of really wounding someone and how very tragic when they wound people you truly care about, and only come out as a glaring example of our weakness of character and by no means are born from a fault of the wounded. You really can't take words you say back. I have often said there is no point in defusing a bomb once it's gone off, and so words said when you are betraying not only who they are directed at but ourself can not be taken back.
I suppose the only thing a so-called wordsmith can do is try in his limited way to use those same words people say I work so well with to try and bring some peace to the affected if said in error. So to those that proclaim me wordsmith I do thank you for your praise, but in my definition of such a wordsmith would not let his human failings wound those he cares so very much for. I have said and written things that unlike the delusional who believe there are no such thing as regrets; I find myself regretting. My regrets are my demons in the wee early dark morning hours of sleeplessness and they are legion. So any who speak or write and might one day be called wordsmith; take this warning that the pain you cause by your words you work in will be visited back on your ten fold or at least has been the case with me. When I fall I am always standing on top of a mountain and sometimes my change has only come through the pain of my dearest hearts and for this I may be forgiven but shall never forgive myself. My debt I pay over and over again each night where sleep eludes me and gladly so, least I forget. Life is too short to hurt the ones you love with words you never truly meant because Hell truly is the absence of those you cared for so dearly only to lose because you yourself were for a moment lesser.