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Iron Man 2‘s Mickey Rourke revealed in an interview last week that he is set to play Mongol badass Genghis Khan in a biopic written by Apocalypse Now writer John Milius.
Now, this could be considered one of the most egregious examples in recent history of an actor in yellowface, IF you considered this…
…an actual face, that is.
Filed under: Genghis Khan, Hollywood and Yellowface, Mickey Rourke, Mickey Rourke To Play Genghis Khan, Mongol Rulers, Mongols, Racial Drag, Shameful Movie Roles, Were There No Asian Actors Available?, Whitewashing, Yellowface
Listen, guys. I’ll be honest. I haven’t done yoga in almost two years. I take the stairs up to my office–sometimes. I walk the dog around the block in the morning and night, and sometimes I walk fast, but that’s about where I max out. The way I see it, “exercise and my blogging life don’t mix.”
Sure, in the wee hours of the night, I somehow manage to make time to munch on sour ropes while wasting zombies on Xbox. Meanwhile, I find a way to house burritos at my local taco cart after any given night of drinking. And certainly, I don’t miss an opportunity to indulge my sweet tooth after gobbling the pie, crust and all, at Pizzeria Mozza.
My point is, I’m like anyone. Sometimes I get a little chubsy, sometimes less so. Perhaps it’s face bloat or hormones, post-holiday or high-stress, but sheez–it happens to us all. And I can deal with that. I have to. My favorite aunt and godmother–a zaftig, warm, no-nonsense, little woman–used to hug me hello with her big, soft arms. After a good squeeze, she would inevitably step back and say, “You are a little fatter than the last time I saw you. Most of it is in your face, but your legs are a little big, too.” It’s not a bad way to look at it. It’s just the truth; not really a positive or a negative, just the big, fat truth.
Yesterday, I posted a picture of Jessica Simpson, who is arguably enjoying her rejuvenated love life, and is (as always) compelled to dress up her new curves with detestable lycra and the world’s most unflattering pair of high-waisted pants. This is hardly the first time she’s dressed herself up in this fashion when riding the love train. In fact, her inclination to do so is now striking me as a behavioral pattern, which is just weird.
Apparently, I’m not the only bored blogger raising an eyebrow at Jessica’s puff. Some folks laid into her rather hard, and because she and her sister don’t have much in terms of career to speak of, they paid attention.
Ashlee (lil’ sis) even blogged about it (and since we’re blogging, I’ve included my responses below in RED):
I am completely disgusted by the headlines concerning my sister’s weight. A week after the inauguration and with such a feeling of hope in the air for our country, I find it completely embarrassing and belittling to all women to read about a woman’s weight or figure as a headline on Fox News.
Wait, are we talking about the same Fox News that boasted the “Obama/Biden, Osama Bin Laden, Coincidence?” headline last year? Or the Fox News that captioned The First Lady as “Obama’s Baby Mama?” Don’t be fooled by the moniker, lady–”News” is hardly their forte.
All women come in different shapes, sizes, and forms and just because you’re a celebrity, there shouldn’t be a different standard.
Uh, Ash? Celebrities are held to a different standard, particularly female celebrities. You should know this, and moreover be glad about it. That’s why y’all make magical livings just for being famous-ish. It’s why you’re photographed doing mundane activities like buying gas (just like Us!) and shopping for ugly cotton clothes on Robertson Boulevard. You, and your sister, like most of this decade’s celebutards, are not the most talented performers of our generation–if one would argue that you’re talented at all. You’re clothes hangers, club promoters, restaurant PR tools. The least you can do is keep your face clear, keep your tummy tucked, and name check Ed Hardy in OK! Magazine. Do your part. There’s not much to it.
Is this something you would say to your wife, daughter, mother, grandmother, or even a friend?
I seriously doubt it.
I wouldn’t say much more to my mother and grandmother than, “My job is great! It pays very well. I honor you and our ancestors!”
My grandmother, on the other hand, had no problem telling me when I was looking plump and juicy.
How can we expect teenage girls to love and respect themselves in an environment where we criticize a size 2 figure?
I don’t know man, that’s a question for God, I guess. Let me know how that Q&A goes.
Now can we focus on the things that really matter.
Yeah! Like why any person would name their baby after Mowgli, a goddamn Jungle Book character? Jungle Book, which, besides being the world’s lamest source of name inspiration, is actually a racist fucking story. Wait, should we table this conversation and just deal with it on Fox News?
We’re hardly the first people to bang our heads in disbelief/horror at television’s latest bucket-o-disgrace Under One Roof (not to be confused with the Japanese, Singaporean, and American sitcoms of the same name from the 90s). This is probably due to a) the fact that nobody has ever seen or heard of the show (it airs on the D-list of “sorta” TV nets, MyNetworkTV) b) star Flava Flav has pretty low standards anyway (I suppose this goes without saying) and c) people barely care about good sitcoms, and nobody gives a soft, smelly shit about bad ones.
We’re a bit surprised, however, that few people have given comment to Su Ho, the irreverent houskeeper character of the show, who’s half Dude, Where’s My Car‘s “and then” lady, and half Mickey Blue Eyes‘s “You eat cookie!” woman. MyNTV has even go so far as to build an entire viral marketing campaign around her character (see picture above), in which Rooftards can check out e-cookie fortunes and even send them to their Rooftard friends.
Is anybody actually doing this? Will a human being ever even lay eyes on this drivel? If we felt even an inkling that anybody in the world might ever watch this pile, we might get a little more involved. Angry. Violent. Whatever. Instead, we’re busy celebrating the return of rosé season.
All we’ll say for now is: if we get one of Sung Ho’s fortunes in our inbox, we are gonna go all crazy-nail-salon-kung-fu-dragon-lady on somebody’s ass. We don’t have to know what that means to promise that it’ll happen. Just know that something big will go down.
After watching the painfully unfunny trailer for Mike Myers’s latest character launch, The Love Guru, a myriad of questions swirled through my head.
1. Why would the man who is responsible for some of the most time-tested, money-pooping characters of all movie time:
…waste his time with a character Rob Schneider could have built? Nay, a character Schneider would have turned down. “Sorry guys, too hacky.”
2. And doesn’t being one of the most money-pooping comedy minds of our time grant you the right to cast higher grade talent then the cute girl from box-office snoozer Good Luck, Chuck?
3. Who would I rather lay: Shrek or The Love Guru? Definitely Shrek. Definitely. Mostly because the Guru is DISGRASIAN, but not entirely.
4. Are Mike Myers and I still MySpace friends?
5. I should check the DISGRASIAN MySpace page to see how many new friends we have. Oh wait. That’s not a question.
6. Why do Bollywood spoofs bug me so much?
7. Who would I rather lay: Vladimir Putin or The Love Guru?
8. What’s Jen doing right now?
9. Did Kanye and Hurricane Katrina knock the funny out of Mike? If so, is there some kind of reverse-centrifuge that can bring it back? Kind of like when Superman brings Lois Lane back from her well-deserved death by spinning the world backwards on its axis (by the way, this never made any scientific sense to me, but who cares about science when there’s Kryptonite in a locked chest?)?
10. And lastly, in what has always seemed like a very difficult rhetorical question, who would I rather lay, Justin Timberlake or Bruce Lee?
Well now that I’ve seen them side-by-side, the answer is easy: I’d take Bruce’s golden dropkick over Justin’s Timbersnake any day!
Celebrating his uncanny achievement of Rush Hour 3, LA Weekly stroked Brett Ratner’s wee-wee with a recrementitious feature article and accompanying puke-worthy cover:
We vomited. Many times. All over the picture-perfect popcorn. But after we got ourselves together and wiped all of the chunks off of our copy of the Weekly, we decided to design our own appropriate cover–and we think we got it right.
Only TWO WEEKS left until the August 10 premiere of Rush Hour 3. The countdown begins!!!!
In the meantime, I suppose we’ll just have to pass the time watching something else, like this:
Lindsay Lohan was loathsome.
Not during Mean Girls–no, in Mean Girls she was wonderful. And through that whole chubby period, even during the creepy Wilmer Valderrema stage. Nope, it happened somewhere between Herbie: Fully Loaded and Hyde and Malibu and Teddy’s and a giant, Kilamanjaro-sized pile of coke. I started to hate her.
It seemed like the last straw when Lindsay didn’t show up for Jen’s SHAMEXCHANGE PROGRAM.
And. Then. Came:
Suddenly, for the first time EVER, I started to feel bad for the poor girl. Why is her life tumbling down in a movie-like downhill spiral? Why does it seem like nobody actually loves her? Why is she snorting her sadness away instead of working it out with a proper therapist? Jesus, why isn’t there a friend out there willing to AT LEAST HOLD HER STASH OF BLOW FOR HER?
I wanted to reach out to her. I wanted to offer her kindness and big sisterhood.
As a result of Lohan’s arrest, she was forced to bail on her Tonight Show appearance this evening, and in her stead DISGRASIAN veteran Rob Schneider will fill up the dead air by trading bad jokes with Jay Leno.
Though he has promised to impersonate Lindsay during his interview, chances are he’ll be spending most of his time plugging his Ching-Chong Minister character from the film I Now Pronounce You Chuck And Larry (which, if I can bring myself to sit through this GLAAD-approved pile of comedy dung without retching, will probably end up on DISGRASIAN next week).
Schneider, GLAAD, Chuck, Larry, Leno. All at once.
Now I’m mad at the bitch all over again.
Filed under: Drug Busts, GLAAD--We're There For You--What About Us?, I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry, Lame, Lindsay Lohan's Mug Shot, Rob Schneider, Shameful Movie Roles, The Detritus of Celebrity
Driving on Hollywood Blvd. last night en route to dinner, I passed the Henry Fonda Theater, normally a cool venue for music (Yo La Tengo, the Decemberists, the Futureheads, and the Shins are some of the bands I’ve seen play there). But yesterday it was the shameful premiere site of the new Jamie Kennedy movie, Kickin’ It Old School. (Whoopsee! Just noticed my typo–I meant “Skool”)
Daisuke Matsuzaka, aka Dice-K or Dice Man (people are still working out the nickname), pitched 5 2/3 innings and struck out SEVEN against the Pirates in his second-to-last spring training game yesterday. Stuart Scott was FAH-REAKING OUT so hard on SportsCenter over Boston’s $103 Million-Dollar Man’s performance that I could have sworn his lazy eye slid right off his face.
One thing Stuey failed to mention, however:
YAY-AH! Asian BADONKADONK–now that’s what I like to see. Can’t say I feel the same about this:
Disgrasian-Academy Award WINNERS, and
Eyeliner-wearing, Emo-loving, Stick Figure-Schtupping LOSERS.
Costumed in police attire this week, “martial arts star” Jackie Chan announced that he will star in a new recruitment campaign for the LAPD.
At the press conference he added, “I’m the police ambassador in Taiwan, Japan, Hong Kong, China, everywhere.”
Jackie, in the mid-seventies, when every single one of my siblings, relatives, and immigrant Vietnamese friends crossed over the Pacific to become war refugees in the United States, shit was BAD. Every kid on the block–regardless of class or color–wanted to kick some little Charlie ass. And in the face of danger, only one thing stood between every single Vietnamese Kid and about 300 knuckle sandwiches. Do you know what that thing was?
All you had to say was that you knew Bruce Lee, and by golly, Fat Tommy or Billy the Killer would for some reason believe you and leave you alive for another day.
Bruce Lee had the grace of a gazelle, the fire of a dragon, the soul of a Buddha. He only laughed after he’d ripped your heart out with his left hand. Bruce Lee was a fearsome, wonderful hero and everybody knew it. Bruce Lee was an ambassador.
You, however, refuse to practice kickflips without slapping an embarassingly dippy grin across your face. You allow Chris Tucker to make YOU look like the babbling idiot in those Rush Hour movies, and oh, you’ve somehow managed to aid Brett Ratner in becoming one of the most successful “directors” in Hollywood.
Please, please omit “everywhere” from your list of destinations as Ambassador of anything. I don’t think I can defend myself against Fat Tommy yet.