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Tag: parody

Hollywood in the 24th Century… a report by TMZ

cruise-pitt-lrg

03/05/2329

Both “Tom Cruise 3000” presented by Dynamic Cybernetics® and Johnny Pitt were arrested late last night after the two created mass chaos on the streets of New Sunset Blvd.

The two got into a scuffle outside the Hustler’s Cafe restaurant when they both drunkenly confused each other’s date (Taylor Swift clones) for their own. It seems the centuries-old feud between the two Mega-Level-A-List celebs finally reached its boiling point on the sidewalk outside when ALLEGEDLY “Tom Cruise 3000” presented by Dynamic Cybernetics® chased after Johnny Pitt and accused him of unlawful possession of his girlfriend. Johnny Pitt is then said to have told “Tom Cruise 3000” presented by Dynamic Cybernetics® that he was mistaken, just like his decision to star in the 264th reboot of the Spider-Man franchise (which was re-rebooted8.045 the year before, starring Johnny Pitt)–zinger!

The two have been bitter rivals ever since Johnny Depp and Brad Pitt genetically spliced their DNA together to make one super-human actor. According to his doctors, and generals at the Pentagon, Johnny Pitt: “has super-human abilities, anti-aging qualities, teeth that can bite through steal, bullet-proof skin, etc.; he also is 60% more handsome, 19% better at acting, and 35% less likely to throw a phone at his wife.” Regrettably, they added: “One downside was we couldn’t reduce his child abuse statistics. An unfortunate side-effect is that those attributes were enhanced.” In fact, Johnny Pitt is known to have an insatiable bloodlust for his offspring.

Before the genetic merger, “Tom Cruise 3000” presented by Dynamic Cybernetics® was the only authentically enhanced actor in Hollywood. Most actors from the 20th/21st Century who can still be seen in the hard or soft rebooted mega-films of today live on through copyrighted CGI ownership. We all know about the recent Sony hack scandal (now believed ALLEGEDLY perpetrated by Warner Bros.) and their loss of over 250 copyrighted celebrities (including all of Johnny Pitt’s ex-wives). Or the Great Disney-20th Century Fox War of 2323 that claimed the lives of over 250,000 interns, the bloodiest studio war in this nation’s history.

“Tom Cruise 3000″ presented by Dynamic Cybernetics® was unique because he was actually not dead. Turns out audiences love not-dead actors from the 20th/21st Century. With the body of a Dynamic Cybernetics® VK-450 (powered by Ford Motor’s Thermal-Nuclear power) and synthetic skin, the only organic part of his body is his head—making him legally, technically still a person. And with Dynamic Cybernetics® patented skin rejuvenation grafting**,”Tom Cruise 3000” presented by Dynamic Cybernetics® will always look like that fresh-faced twenty three year old of the Top Gun years. Though according to eye-witnesses last night, his latest grafting session ALLEGEDLY didn’t go so well—somebody should get their money back!

Needless to say, when Johnny Pitt came on the scene, he immediately became “Tom Cruise 3000” presented by Dynamic Cybernetics®’s main competition and the two have been bitter rivals ever since.

Apparently, the world of Hollywood is not big enough for these two global superstars, and that played out on New Sunset Blvd., which might have to be called New New Sunset after the reconstruction that will be necessary to fix what the two celebs destroyed.

The city is estimating roughly $4 billion dollars in damages and a death toll that keeps climbing.

No one could be reached for comment except the generals at the Pentagon. “We’re monitoring the situation very closely, but overall we’re pleased with the results.”

 


** The patented skin rejuvenation grafting technic takes skin cells and grows a whole new face in a petri dish until cultivated to look like the younger desired self. Then the old face skin is removed and the “rejuvenated” face skin is grafted onto the skull. A surgery to replace deteriorating skin has to happen about every six to twelve months to maintain proper facial continuity.

The End of History… (Cubs ed.)

by Francis Fukuyama

 

In the course of watching Game 7 of the World Series, it was hard to avoid the feeling that something very fundamental was happening in world history. To read some of the recent articles posted after the game seems to point to the end of over a century’s worth of misery and the upcoming of spiritual “peace” throughout the hearts and minds of North Siders. Most of these analyses lack a certain macro-study of what is ultimately of merit and what is analytical rubbish, and thus laughably cursory.

And yet…

These articles nevertheless (poorly, by accident) point towards some grander conceptual apparatus at play, viewed through the praxis of the Cubs playoff run: first with the remnants of a once powerful San Francisco Giants team, then the tinseltown darlings Los Angeles Dodgers, and finally a revamped derelict named the Cleveland Indians that threatened the hopes and dreams of America’s Pastime with the apocalypse. But the beginning of the twentieth century has been bookended by the beginning of the twenty-first in very much the same fashion: the Chicago Cubs are World Series champions.

The triumph of Chicago, of the very idea of the North Side Cubbies, is not only evident in the final tally, the hoisting of the gold-clad trophy, or the deluge of tenth-rate bubbly, but it transcends into the highest form of Western excellence: consumer products. Lakeshore Drive Yuppies and Northwest Suburban Soccer Moms wearing T-shirts, caps, pajamas, and flags all doubled their original markups; post-college bros and dentists alike with their signed baseballs, bats, and jerseys for upwards to $4000; picture frames, bobbleheads, commemorative books or Blu-rays, you name it! found in Belmont as well as Boystown, or Albany, Norwood, and Lincoln Park, and “Go, Cubs! Go!” can be heard on radio waves all across the city; over $70 million dollars-worth of merchandise sold within the first full day alone from buyers all over the country (even the poor children of Laos, Sudan, Afghanistan, Honduras, Haiti, and more, who will wear the over-sized T-shirts intended for hulking adults paid exorbitant salaries so high the gap between the two is as imperceptible as the words “World Series Champions” and “Cleveland” or the beet-faced racist caricature smiling back at them, even these children are a sign of the overwhelming success of the Cubbies excellence).

What we maybe witnessing is not just the end of the century-plus epoch of misery for Cubs fans and thus the exuberance of fans and profiteers in an orgy of commodity exchange, but the millennium of peace and prosperity for all baseball fans at the behest of The Loveable [Winners] and ergo: THE END OF HISTORY.

I

Of course, the concept of the end of history is not original. No. It started over seventy years prior this essay with the deleterious Greek, William Sianis, and his filthy goat: Buckles. Upon being ejected from the World Series game in Wrigley Field on account of either his or his goat’s smell, he used his crypto-gypsy black magic (sacrificing Buckles outside the gates of the historic ballpark) to curse the Cubs, stating: “These Chicago Cubs, they ain’t gonna win. They’re a buncha bums. They ain’t gonna win the World Series. Because they insulted my goat. They ain’t never gonna win a World Series ever again, or my name ain’t William Sianis of 374 South Halsted Street! Mark my woods [sic]. It’s da end of history for d’em!”

Sianis was borrowing this concept of the end of history from a far superior German thinker: Georg Wilhelm Friedrich von Puff’n’Stuff Hegel: whose legacy has been tarnished a bit at the hands of Billy Goat-worshiping descendants of Sianis (and possibly closeted Satanists) who appropriated Hegel for their own anti-Cubbie rhetoric, he now has the misfortune of being seen mainly as a precursor of Sianis goat cursing.

However, there was a man from Wrigleyville who attempted to wrestle Hegel from the claws (or hooves) of the Goaters. He was Harry Carey, and he held a long and prosperous career as a baseball announcer for various clubs, including over a decade and  half with the Cubs until his death in 1998. One fateful day in fall, Carey made the astonishing claim: “…sure as God made green apples, the Cubs are going to be in the World Series,” he spoke of the key ingredients of their success that were already in place, even though the team had only finished in first place twice in a thirty-year period prior and achieved a winning record just five times in that span, went through twenty-two different managers, and would eventually lose ace pitcher Greg Maddux. To peers of Carey’s in 1991, comments calling for a new manager “maybe Jimmy Frey” (who had been fired five years previously) or “this is a veteran team, guys who are young but still are veteran,” must have seen like ramblings of a senile loon, trapped in a quixotic myopia that was the blind love of a perpetually tottering baseball club. To some now, he might seem prescient. But Carey was just a dogmatic Hegelian.

II

Hegel is key to understanding the Cubs triumph and the end of history.

To summarize Hegel’s idealist views in a few pithy sentences would be a disservice to the philosopher and only accentuate the intellectual pratfalls of this essay. But fuck it.

Hegel believed the “real” world could be impacted by the “ideal” world (not necessarily directly, but indirectly), so our historical consciouses guide our human action which influences world behaviors which influence our historical consciouses.

So, when Carey stated twenty-five years prior to the realization that the Cubs would win the World Series, he was merely speaking from the realm of consciousness that all Cubs fans had, and eventually that idea broke through the nebulous of ideas into the world of reality, bringing in the end of history.

III

“But,” some might ask, “are we really at the end of history?”

Well, are the Cubs the World Series champions? Can any other team in Major League Baseball win the 2016 World Series now? Can anyone buy merchandise that claims otherwise?

We need not ask every crackpot fanatic their answer to the above questions. It matters very little what supporters of the Colorado Rockies, or New York Yankees, San Diego Padres or Detroit Tigers have to say about matters for they are not important enough. No. We need only ask these questions from other like-minded Cubbies.

Previously, the two biggest challengers to Chicago Cubs world dominance were the St. Louis Cardinals and goat curses. But as 2016 has shown us, what we always knew would be the case from the start, the Cubs handled the Cardinals (starting back in the 2015 NLDS when they defeated them to advance to the NLCS, but then winning the head-to-head series in 2016 and finishing seventeen and a half games ahead of them in the Central Division), and eventually broke the back of the vicious curse (with the throw from Bryant to Rizzo to capture the last out of the season).

Some may point out the Cardinals were plagued by injuries, suspensions, and other setbacks, and in an already weak Central Division, the Cubs were able to move through an easy schedule, or that they benefitted from a Giants victory over the Mets (a team they had a combined record of 2-9 over the past eleven games) in the Wild Card game, or that if the Cleveland pitching staff and outfielders had not played with comical Little League bungling in Game 6 or were not overwhelmed by the weight of their own being Cleveland-ness in Game 7, the Cubs might not be World Series Champions, and others point out that there are particularly searing issues the clubhouse will have to face in the future (Chapman and Fowler might move on; Heyward was not the player they paid for; no team has won consecutive World Series championships since the New York Yankees at the turn of this century) to ensure the Chicago Cubs hegemony.

With all these accusations flying about like a cherished W, it is possible to forget a simple truth. In 1908, the Cubs won the World Series. The present world seems to have confirmed this fact and stayed relatively close to the fundamental principles that a baseball team should win the World Series, and even though it might have been 108 years between then and now before the Cubs won the championship again, no one can deny they did, in fact, win the World Series, thus not only breaking the curse but establishing the greatness and ubiquity of Cubbie-dom.

IV

What, then, does it mean to be at the end of history?

Ultimately, because the Cubs are World Series champions it means they will remain so for the foreseeable future and thus live at the end of history in their surfeit of celebratory goodies, parades, and glad tidings.

Clearly, teams like the Arizona Diamondbacks and Minnesota Twins still exist in the world, and thus in history, but for any team (or their fans) that want to experience the joy and wonder of being a champion, all they need to do is to stop being them and become a Chicago Cub.

Based off my connections with the front offices in Cleveland and even the South Side the intelligentsia is most likely already starting to make their moves northward.

V

The victory of the Cubs spells the death of the Billy Goat curse. Its passing means the growing “Common Cubbietization” of Major League Baseball, and the unlikely return of any other equal-measured competitor to rise from now till the Rapture.

This does not mean the end of all problems, per se, in Chicago. The river will still need to be dyed a natural color, Jay Cutler will still be the Bears quarterback, and millions of Chicagoans will continue to drink Old Style and eat a glorified bread bowl of meat, cheese, and red sauce they call “pizza”… which might compel one to wonder how significant a Cubs victory is, but… … …

Now and forever, the Cubs will remain the victors valiant, the heroes of the West(ern civilized world), there need not be another champion of the Major Leagues for there is no alternative now to the Chicago Cubs.

The end of history will be sad for many. The struggle for a new identity will be felt. Many Cubbies will have a hard time coming to terms with being winners. The willingness to get piss-drunk and risk arrest for a purely abstract goal of greatness by punching a Brewers fan in the face will be lost. The ethic of “Loveable Loserism”will be replaced by something less adhesive, some cold calculation of victory, an endless sea of championship paraphernalia.

All we will have to look forward to now is this boredom, and perhaps, one day, look back longingly at history.

Ten Dollar Rosé

“Raspberry Beret” is one of Prince’s most well-known and beloved songs off his Around the World in a Day album. But little do people know the history behind the song and what it was originally called.

Back in 1983, while making his breakthrough commercial success, Purple Rain, Prince had already composed the music for “Raspberry.” It was going to be a hidden track on the album after the titular song. “Yeah, he was really jazzed about that song,” recalled Lisa Coleman. “He really liked the idea of burying it in the album as a gift for the fans.”

But the original lyrics for the song made some people less-enthusiastic. “Man. Those lyrics sucked,” laughed Bobby Z. “But of course, you can’t tell Prince that. He’ll go off on you. Dude was so serious about his music, lyrics, everything. Everyone was looking at each other, the music was there. It was a great jam, but the lyrics were so Goddamn lame. No one could say anything. But we all knew it.”

Eventually, as the lore goes, Prince’s father, John L. Nelson, was the one to break it to his son that the lyrics in the song  needed a little more time to mature. When asked how the musical legend took the news, Bobby Z. said: “He was real quiet. Didn’t move. Didn’t even look like he was breathing. Just stared at his old man for like twenty minutes without saying or doing anything. Then a small tear started rolling down his cheek. I’ll never forget it. He told us he needed a minute alone. So we left. A couple hours went by, we expected he’d tell someone to come get us when he was ready. I thought he’d trash the place or something, but nothing happened. Another hour goes by and the studio engineer goes to see how things are, he’s probably worried about his equipment. Dude comes back and is like: ‘Prince has locked himself in the vocal booth and I can’t get him to come out.'” He shook his head. “He was in there for three days. Didn’t let anyone in. Didn’t come out. For three days.” He paused for a moment. “Then he baked a cake and wrote ‘Let’s Go Crazy.’ That was Prince.”

Prince would obviously revisit the song and write some new lyrics, the ones we all know and love to this day.

The original lyrics were forgotten about until recently when they were found stuffed away in Prince’s own 1000-page cookbook for spaghetti recipes. They are as below. The song was titled: “Ten Dollar Rosé”

I was working for a time at a Beer and Wine, trying to buy a color TV
My friends told me repeatedly I was wasting my time
‘Cause I was colorblind, you see

I think I was in Aisle Three stacking pork rinds or something
It couldn’t have been much more
That’s when I spotted her, yeah I saw her
She strolled in across the wet floor, wet floor

(And) she bought a
Ten dollar rosé
The kind you find in a shitty liquor store
Ten dollar rosé
And though it was warm, she bought a little more
Ten dollar rosé
I think I love her

Drunk though she was
She had the nerve to ask me
If I could microwave her chicken parm
So, look here
I put her in my station wagon
And we took a trip
Down to old man Johnson’s farm

I said now, eating small birds never turned me on
Showed her how those hens were treated badly by the hicks
She seemed to see
But I could tell as she looked on
She wanted to eat those chicks

(And) she bought a
Ten dollar rosé
The kind you find in a shitty liquor store
Ten dollar rosé
And though it was warm, she bought a little more
Ten dollar rosé
I think I love her

She kissed me so hard, I think she chipped a tooth
I tried to tell her she went too far
Nothing matters to the birds and bees
She screamed, “I’m a movie star!”

Look
So I won’t say it was the greatest
But I tell ya
If I had the chance to do it all again
I wouldn’t change a stroke
‘Cause chickens they got choked
Because she’s the kind who likes to spend

(Ten dollar rosé)
The kind you find (The kind you find)
The kind you find (In a shitty liquor store)
Oh no no
(Ten dollar rosé)
(And though it was warm)
Where have all the rosé women gone?
Yeah (Ten dollar rosé)

I think I, I think I, I think I love her

(Ten dollar rosé)
No no no
No no no (The kind you find)
(In a shitty liquor store)
(Ten dollar rosé)
Tell me
Where have all the rosé women gone? (And though it was warm)
(She bought a little more)
(Ten dollar rosé)