I'm not even really juiced over the Oscars, I just wanted to type out a "monster truck promotion event" themed line in my title. You don't often get to say the day of the week three times in one sentence and I highly recommend ingressing on that egress if you ever step in that stink. Even I don't know what that mint. Why do those motorcross and monster truck type people always scream the day of the week three times when they're telling you when and where they're going to hick it up at? I mean, I sometimes transpose a digit or two when writing down a phone number (or playing with dyslexic fingercuffs) but are people that are interested in that type of stuff so lacking in calendar skills that they have to have the day on which it occurs verbally seared into their brain like some kind of cattle brand? I mean for the love Jell-O, last I chequed (English spelling) there's only one Sunday on the calendar to choose from and it only happens once a week and, oddly enough, the day it happens on? You guessed it. It's called Sunday. I guess the trick isn't remembering where your hardhat with beerholders is, where your "America loves guns, trucks, beer and babes" t-shirt is, or where you saved up all your "xtree" nacho money, it's on what day do you need to get all this shit together.
Eitherway, back to the Oscars. I dew dig me some Jon Stewart. Saw him for free once when I was in college. The local cable access company in Lex Vegas had cancelled comedy central. Oh yeah, I went to college back in the Dark Ages of comedy before South Park, The Daily Show, and the show that funny black guy had and got all angried up over and quit. It was called the mid-1990's people. Freaky. Eitherwho, somehow, Mr. Stewart got brought to UK's campus and, if you signed a petition saying that you wanted comedy central back on local cable, you got to see his concert for free. Jeff Garland also performed. He's that big fat dude on Curb Your Enthusiasm. I don't watch that show, but I think Jeff Garland is funny and his stand up was tasty. Jon Stewart was on the cusp of his bigness at the time. He had just released a stand up special on HBO that was funny and he basically rehashed that act, but he was good. Garland did more local humor making fun of things he saw in Lex Vegas. They were both good and, apparently, enough signatures were finagled, because we got out comedy central back.
I could careless what in the hell anyone wears to the Oscars. If I were to go to the Oscars, I would wear a nice suit, but I think I'd have to show up have liquored up. How do you go to something like that without having some cocktails? All those big wigs, all those peoples who normally chase Brittney taking the day off to take pictures of you? That's a lot of pressure.
I always find the shows that dissect what the people where amazing. I mean, I don't think there is anything covered and analyzed more than Breaking Weather or a major football game. I am surprised the Oscars coverage doesn't employ somekind of Vera Wang Radar where Melissa Rivers breaks onto your screen in front of footage of certain star wearing a dress and then proceed to explain how a "Fashion front has moved in from the south and appears to be headed in a classy and elegant direction and, barring any encounters with a drunken Russell Crowe or pasta, we expect to see this continue throughout the evening." I expect to Ryan Seacrest with a telestrator explaining why Steven Speilberg's three step shimmy past Tom Hanks, who were both wearing fabulous numbers by Armani, will go down in Oscar lore as averting a sprained ankle that could have cost one of them an extra trip to the salad bar.
I have no clue from wherest this came. I just stepped back and let it flow. Werd.
I'm just sayin......
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Let's sell some crack, kill some vampires and refuse to pay taxes!
WARNING! THIS POST CONTAINS MY ATTEMPT TO EXPLAIN STUFF I READ ABOUT TAXES AND THE TAX CODE AND ODDS ARE IT HAS MORE WONGS THAN A CHINESE PHONE BOOK. I HAVE NO UNDERSTANDING OF TAXES, HOW THEY WORK REALLY OR HOW THEY ARE FIGGERED. I MERELY PAY THEM AND TAKE ALL MY STUFF TO MY CPA AT THE END OF THE YEAR. AND NOW ON TO SOMETHING COMPLETELY RELATED......
In New Jack City, Wesley Snipes was a crack dealer of epic proportions who styled his hair like Tetris shapes. In the Blade Trilology he plays a superhero "type" character with teeth issues.(Any Sci-Fi nerds that I've offended with this description - I've never seen an entire Blade movie - need to take off their spock ears, wipe their nose and don't get in such a rush to leave their mom's basement because that is not the point of the wisdom I'm about to fumigate.). The teeth thing leads me to believe his character is either a vampire revolting against his own or, a vampire murderin' fewl who got really screwed on a set of crowns. For purposes of this little jaunt through the Topamax laced synapses of my gourd will call him Blade City.
Either way, Blade City himself, recently went on trial in Federal Court in Florida for conspiracy, tax fraud and failing to file his taxes. He asked for $11million in refunds and paid the IRS with fake checks, according to press reports. Apparently, Blade City paid taxes through the 90's until he met this one cat who founded this group that believes the government doesn't have the right to tax any income unless it is made outside the United States because of some obscure section in the tax code. This argument has been shot down more than Wil. E. Coyote flying an ACME plane over a Nerf no fly zone. Blade City's attorney's argued that he wasn't a crack dealer, vampire killer or tax cheat (ok, I added the first two) but just a poor sole who got bad tax advice. Asking for $11 million in refunds is not as much as bad tax advice as it is an attempt to steal money with a pencil. But, I will come back to that in a moment. In the vein of Barretta, Snoop Dogg, Ojay 1.0 and Micheal Jackson, it worked. Blade City was merely convicted of the misdemeanor counts of not filing his tax returns! For his two co-defendants - the non-tax payin' theorist and discredited CPA - not so much. They got rung up on all charges and one count of not being famous.
If you ask me, Blade City's lawyer's are superheros in real life. If I'd won that trial, I swear to Wal-Mart, I'd wear a freakin' cape. That is some of the nuttiest shit I've ever heard. I mean, you pay taxes during your whole life and then, suddenly, in 2000, you meat some nut who shows you a passage in the tax code that is more obscure than the answer to a Dennis Miller themed word jumble and you honestly, with no criminal intent, think to yourself, "Hey, I've been paying a whole bunch of money my whole life that I didn't have to. Everybody else pays and says I have to, but this guy, who has his own trailer in the desert surrounded by barb wire with guards and no running water and endless supply of potted meat says I don't have to pay taxes on money I made unless I made it outside the country." Yeah, right. And then, as if that isn't enough, you start to let a freakin' CPA who no longer is "C"'d (the guy had lost his license) do your taxes and you don't think, making millions of bucks and also requesting refunds of tons of cashola, that you're doing anything wrong.
Anytime I hear these stories of famous people being taken adavantage of it makes me sick. I don't make a ton of dough, but, I've got an accountant and, if he started telling me that I only had to pay taxes on money that I made while holding my left nut on the third Tuesday of the week, and I hadn't previously read about the "Left nut holding third Tuesday exemption" in the paper or seen it on the news, I would pick up my WD40 and run. Or, W-2. Whatever it is.
[I lose it for a while about two of Blade City's movies but, if you bear with me, I get back on track for a somewhat strong finish.]
The government should have also indicted Blade City for making White Men Can't Jump and Money Train. I would lessen the White Men Can't Jump charge to a misdemeanor because Rosie Perez showed her boobies, but what a stoopid freaking flick that was, eh? First of all, we all know the majority of honkeys can't jump. I am one. I live it on a daily basis. I remember the dreams of being able to dunk because I could touch the backboard in 6th grade. I remember thinking I was getting closer when I reached 6'2 in high school and could touch the support of the rim. Then it all simply stops. You can't jump any higher no matter how hard you try. You're either born with "airability" or ye ain't. It's that simple. I still remember the day I finally admitted to myself that I could not jump. And, like having your pubes tweezed, it still hurts. The honkey's inablity to verticulate, so to speak, is why the step ladders business is so profitable. Step ladders give you just enough reach without having to break out the full sized ladder while looking like a total wus and calling complete attention to the fact that anyone who could jump high enough to hurdle a pancake could get whatever it is you wanted without the need of such a crutch.
Where was I? White Men Can't Jump the Movie. Blade City should have to pay back the ticket or rental taxes to everyone who watched that turd. Boobies aside, Rosie Perez's character was annoying and her infatuation with Jeopardy was less cute than Rainman's. Her incoherent, high pitched hysterical Spanglish babbling in that movie was only good for warding off deer and peeling paint off walls. Woody's jumpshot looked as if he were a constipated octagenarian throwing a ball while being flung from his rocker. I just can't imagine how someone sold that flick to a studio on the premise of two dudes hustling people for money playing basketball at the beach while one of them's incoherent Spanish girlfriend practices for Jeopardy and they have a falling out at the end but the Spanish chick gets on Jeopardy. I guess rich Hollywood executive types do start drinking before lunch!
Cash ChooChoo a/k/a Moneytrain. Blade City and Woody apparently got past their screwing one another over in their basketball hustlin' days to become cops. Unbeknownkst to the rest of us, they're foster brothers. Woody has a gambling problem and owes a heavy -industry term- a lot of duckets. J-Lo is a new cop on the block (I couldn't decided whether to insert a joke that her ass was her beat - meaning that is the area she had to cover as a cop in the movie - or that her ass was her partner) that has the hots for Blade City even though Woody has one for her. Blade City and Woody know this train with all this $$$ comes through NYC at certain times. Woody finds out that Blade City knows his way around Jinny's block, if you know what I'm steppin' in, gets pissed, and decides to rob the train to pay off his debts. It all goes south, Blade City shows up to stop it with J-Lo and Woody essentially gets away without stealing the $$$ or being caught. I think Blade City even paid Woody's debt off for him. Probably with some of that $11 mil he got back in taxes.
What the hell is that all about? You make millions of dollars for a movie like that and then have the audacity to say you shouldn't have to pay taxes on it? We should have been paid to watch it! Does anyone else find it strange that a guy who made a movie called Moneytrain ended up crossways with the IRS?
An $11 Million dollar refund? Could you get one of those anticipation loans from H & R Block on that? I think if I made that much money I'd go to one of those Cashland Express places to have my taxes done. It would be worth it to walk in and sit down just to see the look on their faces. Maybe you could also ask for a title loan on your Lamborgini or Ferrari while you were there. Those joints ain't nuthin but legalized loan sharking. Eitherway, that would be some funny stuff. If you're getting an $11 million dollar refund, doesn't it almost seem like you shouldn't even be paying any taxes to begin with? I mean, if the government is giving you back $11 million couldn't you just save them the money by not paying anything? That would be a whole lot less paperwork to fill out.
Passenger 57? Isn't that a steak sauce? If I'm making a movie about a passenger on a plane, its going to be about a passenger in first class. Not because they're cooler or more interesting but because of the free alcohol and snacks.
On a local level, is Super Tax on Jackson Street also selling lemonade? Do they also file urine samples with your tax returns? Why in the hell would you paint your Super Tax business a psychedelic urine color? I understand the theory of trying to get everyone's attention that your business is there, but I'd bet nipples to nodules that 30% of people who come in are merely there to use the bathroom. It's like this big reminder on Jackson Street: "Super Tax: Do you have to pee?" My wife and I have been using it to potty train our son. We ask him if he has to pee and we show him a picture of the building and he tears out. Boys got better aim than me now. Thanks Super Tax!
I'm just sayin.....
In New Jack City, Wesley Snipes was a crack dealer of epic proportions who styled his hair like Tetris shapes. In the Blade Trilology he plays a superhero "type" character with teeth issues.(Any Sci-Fi nerds that I've offended with this description - I've never seen an entire Blade movie - need to take off their spock ears, wipe their nose and don't get in such a rush to leave their mom's basement because that is not the point of the wisdom I'm about to fumigate.). The teeth thing leads me to believe his character is either a vampire revolting against his own or, a vampire murderin' fewl who got really screwed on a set of crowns. For purposes of this little jaunt through the Topamax laced synapses of my gourd will call him Blade City.
Either way, Blade City himself, recently went on trial in Federal Court in Florida for conspiracy, tax fraud and failing to file his taxes. He asked for $11million in refunds and paid the IRS with fake checks, according to press reports. Apparently, Blade City paid taxes through the 90's until he met this one cat who founded this group that believes the government doesn't have the right to tax any income unless it is made outside the United States because of some obscure section in the tax code. This argument has been shot down more than Wil. E. Coyote flying an ACME plane over a Nerf no fly zone. Blade City's attorney's argued that he wasn't a crack dealer, vampire killer or tax cheat (ok, I added the first two) but just a poor sole who got bad tax advice. Asking for $11 million in refunds is not as much as bad tax advice as it is an attempt to steal money with a pencil. But, I will come back to that in a moment. In the vein of Barretta, Snoop Dogg, Ojay 1.0 and Micheal Jackson, it worked. Blade City was merely convicted of the misdemeanor counts of not filing his tax returns! For his two co-defendants - the non-tax payin' theorist and discredited CPA - not so much. They got rung up on all charges and one count of not being famous.
If you ask me, Blade City's lawyer's are superheros in real life. If I'd won that trial, I swear to Wal-Mart, I'd wear a freakin' cape. That is some of the nuttiest shit I've ever heard. I mean, you pay taxes during your whole life and then, suddenly, in 2000, you meat some nut who shows you a passage in the tax code that is more obscure than the answer to a Dennis Miller themed word jumble and you honestly, with no criminal intent, think to yourself, "Hey, I've been paying a whole bunch of money my whole life that I didn't have to. Everybody else pays and says I have to, but this guy, who has his own trailer in the desert surrounded by barb wire with guards and no running water and endless supply of potted meat says I don't have to pay taxes on money I made unless I made it outside the country." Yeah, right. And then, as if that isn't enough, you start to let a freakin' CPA who no longer is "C"'d (the guy had lost his license) do your taxes and you don't think, making millions of bucks and also requesting refunds of tons of cashola, that you're doing anything wrong.
Anytime I hear these stories of famous people being taken adavantage of it makes me sick. I don't make a ton of dough, but, I've got an accountant and, if he started telling me that I only had to pay taxes on money that I made while holding my left nut on the third Tuesday of the week, and I hadn't previously read about the "Left nut holding third Tuesday exemption" in the paper or seen it on the news, I would pick up my WD40 and run. Or, W-2. Whatever it is.
[I lose it for a while about two of Blade City's movies but, if you bear with me, I get back on track for a somewhat strong finish.]
The government should have also indicted Blade City for making White Men Can't Jump and Money Train. I would lessen the White Men Can't Jump charge to a misdemeanor because Rosie Perez showed her boobies, but what a stoopid freaking flick that was, eh? First of all, we all know the majority of honkeys can't jump. I am one. I live it on a daily basis. I remember the dreams of being able to dunk because I could touch the backboard in 6th grade. I remember thinking I was getting closer when I reached 6'2 in high school and could touch the support of the rim. Then it all simply stops. You can't jump any higher no matter how hard you try. You're either born with "airability" or ye ain't. It's that simple. I still remember the day I finally admitted to myself that I could not jump. And, like having your pubes tweezed, it still hurts. The honkey's inablity to verticulate, so to speak, is why the step ladders business is so profitable. Step ladders give you just enough reach without having to break out the full sized ladder while looking like a total wus and calling complete attention to the fact that anyone who could jump high enough to hurdle a pancake could get whatever it is you wanted without the need of such a crutch.
Where was I? White Men Can't Jump the Movie. Blade City should have to pay back the ticket or rental taxes to everyone who watched that turd. Boobies aside, Rosie Perez's character was annoying and her infatuation with Jeopardy was less cute than Rainman's. Her incoherent, high pitched hysterical Spanglish babbling in that movie was only good for warding off deer and peeling paint off walls. Woody's jumpshot looked as if he were a constipated octagenarian throwing a ball while being flung from his rocker. I just can't imagine how someone sold that flick to a studio on the premise of two dudes hustling people for money playing basketball at the beach while one of them's incoherent Spanish girlfriend practices for Jeopardy and they have a falling out at the end but the Spanish chick gets on Jeopardy. I guess rich Hollywood executive types do start drinking before lunch!
Cash ChooChoo a/k/a Moneytrain. Blade City and Woody apparently got past their screwing one another over in their basketball hustlin' days to become cops. Unbeknownkst to the rest of us, they're foster brothers. Woody has a gambling problem and owes a heavy -industry term- a lot of duckets. J-Lo is a new cop on the block (I couldn't decided whether to insert a joke that her ass was her beat - meaning that is the area she had to cover as a cop in the movie - or that her ass was her partner) that has the hots for Blade City even though Woody has one for her. Blade City and Woody know this train with all this $$$ comes through NYC at certain times. Woody finds out that Blade City knows his way around Jinny's block, if you know what I'm steppin' in, gets pissed, and decides to rob the train to pay off his debts. It all goes south, Blade City shows up to stop it with J-Lo and Woody essentially gets away without stealing the $$$ or being caught. I think Blade City even paid Woody's debt off for him. Probably with some of that $11 mil he got back in taxes.
What the hell is that all about? You make millions of dollars for a movie like that and then have the audacity to say you shouldn't have to pay taxes on it? We should have been paid to watch it! Does anyone else find it strange that a guy who made a movie called Moneytrain ended up crossways with the IRS?
An $11 Million dollar refund? Could you get one of those anticipation loans from H & R Block on that? I think if I made that much money I'd go to one of those Cashland Express places to have my taxes done. It would be worth it to walk in and sit down just to see the look on their faces. Maybe you could also ask for a title loan on your Lamborgini or Ferrari while you were there. Those joints ain't nuthin but legalized loan sharking. Eitherway, that would be some funny stuff. If you're getting an $11 million dollar refund, doesn't it almost seem like you shouldn't even be paying any taxes to begin with? I mean, if the government is giving you back $11 million couldn't you just save them the money by not paying anything? That would be a whole lot less paperwork to fill out.
Passenger 57? Isn't that a steak sauce? If I'm making a movie about a passenger on a plane, its going to be about a passenger in first class. Not because they're cooler or more interesting but because of the free alcohol and snacks.
On a local level, is Super Tax on Jackson Street also selling lemonade? Do they also file urine samples with your tax returns? Why in the hell would you paint your Super Tax business a psychedelic urine color? I understand the theory of trying to get everyone's attention that your business is there, but I'd bet nipples to nodules that 30% of people who come in are merely there to use the bathroom. It's like this big reminder on Jackson Street: "Super Tax: Do you have to pee?" My wife and I have been using it to potty train our son. We ask him if he has to pee and we show him a picture of the building and he tears out. Boys got better aim than me now. Thanks Super Tax!
I'm just sayin.....
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