I’m officially taking off the gloves.  The ThrowDown will officially have a column celebrating a famous slime ball at the end of every month.  ”They” say there’s no such thing as bad press.  I’m about to prove that theory extremely suspect.    If it becomes popular enough, you of The ThrowDown Army may even get to have a say on who the person of question will be.

The end of May will mark the inaugural person highlighted in the yet to named monthly article.  Celebrity agents can start sending their  outraged mail to our “Contact Us” tab for review (and give us a good laugh).

Hugs and kisses.  ~JB

It’s my job as a parent to be the filter for what my children are subject to.  Much like many divorced parents, I also no longer sugar coat what I think about subjects that affect my kids.  Case in point, when I was married, I would look over my shoulder to check if I’ve stepped over the line when discussing parenting issues with other couples.  Nowadays, when terms like “gender neutral” pop up in parenting conversation, I laugh and ask which one of the Disney princesses they plan on dressing their son as for Halloween.  Trust me, divorce is highly liberating, but once again, I digress.

Since my kids are tuned into pop culture like I am, I find I constantly have to monitor not just the shows they watch, but also the commercials.  Back in 2011, I saw a promo for a cartoon called The Secret Millionaire’s Club on the Hub channel and could only think that some wacko conspiracy ass was capitalizing on his sweaty dreams of the New World Order via a kid’s station that few actually watched.   What I found, was far, far worse.

Enter crusty gazillionaire Warren Buffett, and his “hey, the economy is juuuuuust fine” attitude.  Now, being 40 years old, I know Buffett 1)has enough money to back up any wild ass financial decision he makes and 2)is just full of shit.  The guy has kept begging people to dump money into the stock market for a number of years, and simply cast an “oh well” attitude when people who lost everything in the market started eating cat food for dinner.  But when your net worth is around 53 billion and change, fucking up becomes a “win some/lose some” theme for your decision-making process.  Too bad thousands of couples with an income of $40k annually took his advice.  Ah.  It’s only money.

So, when the cat is out of the bag that you’re not as swell as advertised, what’s the next move in the playbook?  Why, indoctrinating kids, of course!  Buffett’s Berkshire Hathaway rolled out a cartoon that would feature kids learning lessons from Buffett every episode, with less financial wizardry, more political grandstanding.  Buffy schools kids on everything from lending/borrowing money, effective advertising and even how greedy representation is hurting musicians.  Yeah, that’s not a joke.  Let’s just say more than a few of the usual suspects described the cartoon as a great business tool for kids, and was highly educational.  Uh huh. That didn’t stop the shows producers from sneaking in the fact that one of the kids “really wants to join the U.N.”.  Believe me, what starts out as education sometimes has a funny way of transmogrifying into programming by the collective.  Besides, if the character wants to join the U.N. go for it.  Being completely useless is pretty popular right now.

Yet even Buffy, who does his own voice acting on the show, realized that an old coot like himself needed some much need street cred to launch the show.  Enter rapper Jay-Z.  Mr. Beyonce Knowles was gracious enough to lend his voice talents, and the show depicted him as some sort of Donald Trump knock off.  Just for the record, there was also no mention of how Jay-Z laughed about the little incident where police didn’t catch him with a car full of cocaine years ago.  Guess that business lesson didn’t make the director’s cut.

Needless to say, after that first stellar episode, the Hub channel wisely decided against running the show, and all following episodes would be available on the web only.  It had appeared the show was dead, but much like Buffett, just keeps hanging on.  New episodes keep popping up, yet none have discussed the fact that Buffett strongly desires people pay even more taxes, even though the billionaire seems to keep passing on the fact he can now just write a check to the U.S. government as a donation.

Don’t worry Buffy.  I’m the patriot missile that will shoot down any of your incoming crap aimed at turning my kids into your little mindless robots.  In fact, the only thing they will know of you is that you are a ginormous,  self-righteous hypocrite.  But I guess that title wouldn’t have sounded as well as “secret millionaire’s club”.  Whatever the hell that means.

Here’s the show, I suggest forwarding to about the 18:00 mark, just to get a good laugh at Jay-Z attempting to interact with children.

I had stopped doing official movie reviews a few years ago, for the simple fact that going to the movies was no longer fun for me.  It became an overpriced experience that I had to share with some jerk coughing out popcorn kernels in the row behind me, all to see a film I already knew was just aching to be projected for my disappointment.  Yet, here I am, reviewing a movie.

I rolled the dice upon seeing Iron Man 3, being a former comic book collector and fan of several Marvel comic titles in my youth and knowing how bad it could turn out.  As most fans of any superhero films will tell you, the third film is usually compete garbage.  The cast is tired of playing the characters, some nobody takes over to direct and the screenwriters mail the effort in.  Look no further than Spiderman 3, X-Men 3: The Last Stand and even The Dark Knight Rises to an extent to show the last one of the trilogy is probably going to spoil a few things for fans.  Thankfully, it seems in this case, the folks behind the Iron Man franchise got the dismal one out-of-the-way on the last attempt.  Iron Man 3 is not only a solid film, but also can be described as a word I no longer use for going to the movies: fun.  Don’t worry kids, only some minor spoilers here.

A bit concerned with the beginning of the movie, I wasn’t prepared to hear Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.) narrating the events in a flashback to 1999, no less.  My eyes began rolling behind my cheap plastic 3D glasses as I began to wonder why I didn’t just go to a decent restaurant, instead of witnessing a full artistic change from the previous films.  Yet, I hung in there, and the next two plus hours were well worth the opening scene.  To say that the movie has the same feel of the other movies in the series is inaccurate.  Due to events that unfold in the film, hero Stark is now pushed to the limits by a villain known only as The Mandarin (Ben Kingsley) and has to relocate to a small town in Tennessee, off the radar of the terrorist.

Stark befriends a local boy and the chemistry between the two plays well.  Stark finds himself trying to solve a bit of a political mystery to topple this new foe, and is left with only his wits and abilities.  Fans are treated to seeing just why Tony Stark is a superhero, as his suit sits idle on a dingy old couch in a garage, awaiting repair.  Again, I was concerned that the “out of costume” Tony Stark would not be effective on-screen for the majority, but the script works well.  Honestly, it was a breath of fresh air, for a series that depends on tech to sell the plot and it is more of an intelligent work.  That’s not to say there wasn’t plenty of explosions, action and chaos to offset.  It is indeed a well-balanced blockbuster meal, with equal portions of comic relief to fill in the spaces.   There are also several scenes that will catch viewers off guard, so put away your cocky foreshadowing grins for this one.

Returning are Gwyneth Paltrow as girlfriend Pepper Potts and Don Cheadle as Col. James Rhodes.  Both continue to work well with Downey Jr. and bring some good moments to the screen.  Many fans had complained the last film had Paltrow screeching a bit too much, and she’s effectively dialed it down a bit for this time out.  Cheadle is a solid actor and gets plenty of opportunities to shine outside of his newly painted suit, Iron Patriot.

The movie tacks away from many superhero films in that it is most certainly not a straight forward fight to the finish.  And even as some of the baddies in the film really don’t have much depth, there is clear evidence thought was put forth to not treat viewers as morons.  There is an enormous amount to take in, but at no time is the movie-goer treated as a child.  I even found myself springing for the 3D version, something I never do, and it was well worth the experience.  The film’s final battle and closing scenes are well-played and don’t disappoint.  The ending really does hint at this being the finish for the series, and actually raises some interesting questions when Avengers 2 hits screens in 2015, since Iron Man is indeed part of that world as well.  And yes, Iron Man fans and Avengers fans alike will want to stay to the end of the lengthy credits to see the “extra” scene, which goes out on a fine comedic note.

Overall, Iron Man 3 is well worth a moviegoers’ time, money and attention, which even children in the 10 and above age group could enjoy.  Honestly, Hollywood may end up blowing another perfectly good blockbuster season, but if so, it certainly won’t be the fault of Iron Man 3.  Go see it.  Twice.

Former NFL running back Tiki Barber wants to do your dishes, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Ever had that embarrassing moment where a fourth person is needed for a round of golf, and you don’t have enough friends in this world to put it together?  Too tired to mow your own lawn, and wish you could pay a random famous stranger to do it for you?  Well, look no further, socially challenged chore shirkers, the folks over at Thuzio have you covered.

For a mere handful of sheckles, now you can pay a “famous” person to get up close and personal with you and your friends, without all that unpleasant police and restraining order nonsense.  Allow me to elaborate.  Let’s say you’ve agreed to put on a Pampered Chef party, buy that damn Cindy Rae Donovan opposite your house in the cul-de-sac keeps showing you up with her amazing finger sandwiches and talented banter.  Now, even that party hosting score up and reclaim your neighborhood crown by having a pop in by NFL kicking legend Morten Anderson!  You’ll be killing the sales of horizontal can openers with one of the true gridiron greats to wow your guests.  Fees and conditions vary per event, of course.

Hosting not your thing?  Not a problem!  Some of the less fortunate of celebrities will even do general appearances for a “small” fee if you’d like.  So if you’re tired of putting off painting that three seasons room, just use Thuzio to contact U.S. gymnastics gold medalist Kerri Straug to come on over and do it right the first time, but those pesky Russian judges will probably only give her a 7.2 (canned laughter).

With Thuzio, the possibilites are endless.  That’s what former New York Giants running back Tiki Barber thought, when he found his broadcasting skills over at NBC weren’t exactly up to snuff.  So, Tiki did what any good former sports icon would do with no visible means of income.  He starting whoring himself out to any bar mitzvah that would take him on the eastern seaboard.  But, even public appearances can be tiresome when you come in direct contact with the unwashed public, so Tiki set up a business that would allow other celebrities to cash in on their former greatness.

When signing up to Thuzio, one can pick from a variety of interactions from the celebrities on the site, from as little as having a famous person record your voice mail message, or as big as a corporate sponsored event.  In short, the famous have now found a way to cut their agent’s percentage out of the mix.  You initiate contact, schedule the event, pay up front and boom.  There’s Miss New York, Elizabeth Tam, ready to white wash your picket fence, or just roll with you at your local bowling alley.  It’s really that simple.

Unfortunately, it’s not cheap, either.  If you think you’re going to have former head coach of the world champion Baltimore Ravens, Brian Billick to speak at your grandmother’s wake, it’s gonna cost you a cool $20,000.  And you have to feed him, so there’s that.  But all in all, it’s not such a terrible idea, once the layers of the deal are peeled back.  Think about it: sports memorabilia shows and comic book conventions pay these sorts a good deal of money to have the formerly famous sit and sign autographs all day.  On top of that, the celeb charges a crazy rate just to get a signed picture, and the fan may get all of five seconds in a long line to barely make eye contact with them.  Companies such as Wizard World have made a killing off of putting a celebrity in a line up and charging hundreds of dollars to have fans be in the same room as their idols.  Now Thuzio is here, and if a fan is going to shell out loads of cash to have a poor experience at a trade show, now, a few friends can pool their money to have former baseball pitcher Doug Drabek come to their house and show them all how to throw a curveball.  So, it’s not so terrible.

While the sports crowd can obviously take advantage of having a former PGA tour pro give up close golf tips, the other side of the coin is just to have a meet and greet.  I’m personally saving up to take out former Rockette Tamlyn Brooke Orlando to dinner, if I ever find myself in the greater Philadelphia area.  But don’t judge me, it’s not creepy.  It’s not.

Which brings me to one of the hiccups that could derail fans’ dream dates with their faves.  Most of the celebrities work out of specific regions currently, so if you want former NFL quarterback Daunte Culpepper to attend your fantasy draft, you better be able to post the $1,000 charge, plus be in the Miami, FL area, or you’ll pay extra for travel arrangements.  But, it’s not everyday you get a former pro to sit in on you and your pals’ fantasy football draft.  Thuzio.com is unique, and although it needs some serious tweaking, it could be something that catches on.  You know, when people get back to actually having some sort of disposable income, instead of having their homes foreclosed on.

Bottom line, just think of Thuzio much like the old line in the prostitution game:  You’re not paying for the “experience”.  You’re paying them to leave.

Just an update for The ThrowDown army…

The ThrowDown will return next week with all new material sometime after April 23rd. I have some personal business to attend to and a much-needed break for Big Angry, Johnny Rants and myself. I’d alluded to it on my Twitter account, but I figured a proper update here on The ThrowDown prime was in order.

So fear not, fans of truth, justice and ass kickery…

We shall ride again, bringing with us the fanfare of a full orchestra, one of my favorite composers and a really hot dame in a red dress. Just watch the vid, you know you want to. Until then, fight fire with oil~JB

Sports’ greatest tax write off took to the field once again here in Chicago, and they are poised to disappoint a fan base of highly confused baseball fans, north side residents looking for entertainment and fictional characters, i.e. Ferris Bueller.  OH, and Jim Belushi, lest we forget the less talented of the Belushi brothers, and the one any decent Chicagoan would trade for the return of his deceased brother,  John.  Nothing like having a stale acting career and falling back on just “being a Cubs fan” as your occupation.  Get a life, you talentless hobo.  Once again, as I’m prone to do, I digress.

I’ve really had enough of every “baseball purist”, whatever the hell that is, out of towner and foreign exchange student pestering me how awesome it must be to have witnessed a ballgame at historic Wrigley Field.  Well, I’ll tell you.  If you make the mistake of taking a car there, you’ll immediately find that Wrigley Field has no parking lot.  Yes, a major sports venue with no parking.  But don’t worry, Chicago has made certain there is plenty of room in the surrounding areas for bars and housing for serial killers.  If you don’t believe me, just a few short days ago, someone had a package sent to Wrigley Field’s gate K.  Contents of the box?  A severed goat’s head.  Welcome to Chicago.

Immediately after paying thirty bucks to some guy that smells of sauerkraut and wearing a Cook County Steamfitter’s Local #597 tank top to park your car in his “driveway”, one can expect to have a nice 15-20 block jaunt to the historic park.  Ah, but the majesty of the park itself.  Inside, the wafting scents of rewarmed bratwurst and spoiled urinal cakes will permeate the senses.  And fail.  Oh, how the fail presses down on the fans from the shadows.  The feeling of dread inside is most certainly a close simulation of entering Hades itself, lost souls paying to have their guts ripped out by the many reapers dressed in Cubbie blue pinstripes.  Don’t worry, management sensed the similarities to Hell and had the “Omnem dimittite spem, o vos intrantes” sign taken down.  Look it up, Joe.

After that, find your seats located somewhere between “there’s a giant I beam in front of me” and “nobody said I had to sit on a rooftop”.  Trust me, there’s a fine line between being at Wrigley Field and in the vicinity of Wrigley Field.  Either way, expect the next three hours of your life to tick away watching the beloved Cubbies lose 11-3.  I also advise you to stay in your seat for the duration, since you stand a 67% chance of having a brick from the upper deck fall on you as you make your way to one of the scant few restrooms.  Speaking of restrooms, if you venture into one, don’t breathe, soak your shoes in peroxide when you come home, and ignore the dead body in the last stall near the entrance.  It may be Cubs longtime shortstop, Joe Tinker.  They’re running some tests.

What? You thought I was joking?

And as one exits the historic ballpark, which is a nice way of saying really $^$%# old, and follows the masses of drunks and disheartened that look forward to the 20 block walk to find one’s car trapped by ten other vehicles, or if public transportation was the gamble, risk being urinated or vomited upon by one of the many riders of the red line.  Take me out to the ballgame.  Indeed.

Yes, I am a White Sox fan.  Yes, the park on the south side has problems.  Yet, the minor inconveniences of U.S. Cellular Field can be swept away as soon as a glimpse is had of the giant hanging banner that reads “2005 MLB World Champions”.  But, in comparison, Wrigley Field has a lot of overgrown vegetation on the outfield walls, so that’s something. I’ll put it another way.  The ballpark on the north side has issues that could be overlooked, if the Cubs just came close to the World Series.  The Cubs team of last season was rated by many city publications as one of the worst teams in baseball history.  That’s well over a century folks.  It’s getting to the point where Cubs fans should get some sort of tax break for being devout masochists.

Cubs fever. Catch it!

And remember the severed goat head I spoke of?  Go reread, I’ll wait.  All good, then?  The goat was sent as a nod to the late owner of Chicago’s famed Billy Goat Tavern, Billy Sianis, who brought his goat to the World Series game at Wrigley Field versus the Detroit Tigers in 1945.  Sianis was asked to remove the goat, which prompted the Chicagoan to state that because of offending said goat, the Cubs would never win a World Series.  Ever.  And this has come to pass so far, making fans do all sorts of crazy stunts like trying to sacrifice farm animals in front of the stadium to reverse the curse.  As one can plainly see by the World Series banner that isn’t hanging in Wrigley Field, no attempts have been successful.

So much has been put on the curse of the goat, it sometimes dominates common sense for the fans.  As a friend of mine once said, “the goat thing happened in 1945.  What’s the excuse for the for the previous 37 years of not winning?”  Yes, my peoples, the Chicago Cubs last won baseball’s most prized possession in 1908.  104 years of pride swallowing siege.  In fact, let’s have a look at various things that have transpired since the Chicago Cubs last won the series.

• Haley’s Comet passed the Earth.  Twice.
• Alaska, Arizona, Hawaii, Oklahoma and New Mexico became states.
• Flag poles were placed on the roof of Wrigley Field to hold future World Series banners.  They’ve all rusted, and been removed.
• Longtime Cub’s broadcaster Harry Caray was born, and died.
• Pluto was classified as a planet, and had that classification revoked.
• The theory of relativity was introduced.
• Radio was invented.
• The Titanic was built, sank, lost for decades and found again.
• Nuclear power was invented.
• The Soviet Union was established, and collapsed.
• Women and African-Americans were given the right to vote.
• The moving assembly line was introduced.
• Commercial aviation was established.

Life, once again, stranger than fiction.  As for 2013, the Chicago Cubs are already on their way to disappointing a new generation of fans.  And those fans will be able to say, “I do not fear Hell.  I’ve been to Wrigley Field.”

Those tragic souls will be in my thoughts as I lean back in my comfy box seat across town, watching the White Sox give a crap about the people who come to the ballpark.  Peace.

“To give anything less than your best, is to sacrifice the gift”~Steve Prefontaine

The gift.  It is within us, and it is what makes us truly unique.  I have always held a sense that each and every one of us is meant to rise above, transcend even, the everyday masses.  It is just something I don’t doubt anymore, because I’ve seen it in action, and it is truly breathtaking.  It is where our individual talents take over and we step into our space in history.  It may take someone a short time to find his/her gift, or it may take a lifetime.  Yet, the gift is there.  Buried far beneath the unimportant of the everyday.

I saw the gift the night Michael Jordan hit six three-point shots in a row, something he wasn’t known for, and put up 35 points in a half of basketball.  Famous is now the image of Jordan shrugging on that night of the NBA finals as if to say “this, this is my gift”.   Not just in the world of the famous, I saw the gift in the doctor that delivered my first child.  There was a tense moment during delivery, and amidst the chaos, the doctor sensed my anxiety, looked over at me and simply winked.  He had it all under control.  It was his gift, and he damn well knew it.

Most of the state of Oregon can tell about the gift as well, as they witnessed it embodied in one Steve Prefontaine.  The majority that are familiar with “Pre” knew him as a runner, but that was just the sport he was attached to.  He was more warrior, a Rocky Balboa on the track, driven by his guts until all the other runners had nothing left.  Yes, Pre was conditioned and physically built for the task, but it was his mentality that propelled him.

Pre  joined the cross-country team at his high school in Coos Bay, Oregon and showed signs of his talent his first two years, but it wouldn’t be until his junior year when he payed dividends.  Pre was undefeated that year and won his state final.  He duplicated the feat in his senior year, and would go on to be recruited by no less than 40 colleges across the country.  Pre had confided in those close to him that he wished to stay in state, and the University of Oregon seemed like a perfect fit.  The only problem with the scenario was that famed head coach Bill Bowerman really never actively courted Pre.  Bowerman would give several interviews later that indicated he had watched and fully desired for the runner to join them, but would not over recruit, as many coaches tended to do.  He simply wrote Prefontaine a letter, and informed him if he came to the University of Oregon, Pre would become the world’s greatest distance runner.  The young runner  signed a letter of intent shortly after.

The year of 1970 would have Pre already gracing the cover of Sports Illustrated, and at age 19 holding several U.S and world records.  Under the tutelage of the guru Bowerman, Pre was realizing his dream and would start to take his place as one of the greatest long distance runners alive.  Although, the new-found fame was a mixture of Pre himself, and his blistering running style, competitors would come to respect both.  Pre became one of the most feared runners in the sport when he stated not only his intentions to win, but more importantly to find out just who had the most guts in the race.

“Somebody may beat me, but they’re going to have to bleed to do it”, was one of the famous phrases Pre would utter, and he made good on the statement.  When it came to a 5000m race, there would be no laying in the weeds or pacing himself.  Pre’s game plan was simple, and completely unorthodox in the long distance world.  He would take the lead early on, and begin to set a bludgeoning pace that would drain any spirit his competitors brought along.  If there was any chance of victory, one would have to keep up with Pre, and run the risk of depleting energy faster than expected.  The fellow runners that had enough to stamina to keep up with Pre’s suicide pace would reach the final lap, and that’s when Pre really went to work on them.  There would be nothing an opposing runner to do but watch as the young man would start to pull away.  Pre not only beat his opponents, he beat them down.

When the 1972 Olympics rolled around in Munich, Steve Prefontaine would be humbled by his own style.  Leading at the end of the race, Pre was bankrupt on energy, as the world’s best runners kept pace with him.  He would find himself finishing fourth in the 5000m, out of the medals.  His fellow runners were just as gassed, and Pre forced them to beat him at his own game.  He may have lost, but the running world would respect the race the young man ran.  For the way Prefontaine ran a race, was a metaphor for life.  Grabbing the brass ring was simply not enough to the man.  He had to exhaust every bit of spirit to do so.  Anything less, was cheating.

The loss at the Olympics would make Prefontaine question running, but eventually, he pulled himself up and began training harder.  Many close sources of Steve Prefontaine admitted later that the man had one clear goal: gold at the 1976 Olympics in Montreal.  Pre believed his finest work would be seen there, on the world stage, and he was a heavy favorite, since his freshman appearance at the games was now behind him.

Unfortunately, Pre’s tale of guts and spirit would not wrap up with a storybook ending, a gold medal gleaming around the neck of one of the most heralded runners in the world.  Steve Prefontaine would leave a party, on May 30th, 1975 and was pronounced dead in a single car accident.  Although many have disputed the reports, Prefontaine was found to have alcohol in his system.  Steve Prefontaine, and his gift were taken from this earth at only age 24.  He was alone in his vehicle.

The legacy that Steve Prefontaine would leave behind would be enormous for the short time we knew him.  His legendary coach and friend Bill Bowerman was the man that co-founded Blue Ribbon Sports.  Most famous for trying to develop lighter soles for shoes on his wife’s waffle iron, Bowerman would test out many of his inventions on the feet of Steve Prefontaine.  The company is still around, but the name has changed.  You may recognize the logo:

Bowerman giving Prefontaine apparel  set off a chain of events, however.  The Amatuer Athletic Union (AAU) would not allow profit or gifts for track and field athletes, which for a time, had Prefontaine living on food stamps.  He fought the organization up until his death, and three years later Prefontaine’s legacy would play a part when the U.S. Congress would remove the AAU from governing track and field.

There are several movies and documentaries about the “Legend”, but 1998′s Without Limits always seems to capture the spirit of the man, best. And spirit was certainly the makeup of the runner from Coos Bay, Oregon.

It’s tough to know what the sports landscape would look like if Prefontaine were still alive.  Yet, in this world we see “the gift” often, especially in the world of athletics.  The irony of it is that of all the famous athletes that have worn and advertised the Nike logo, is that he came before.  He was the beginning.  He was PRE.  And he lives on.

“Meesa big pimpin’, and spendin’ cheese!”

The excitement level was high the day that Disney announced they had bought out George Lucas, and immediately followed the uppercut with a jab in the form of announcing that indeed Star Wars episodes seven, eight and nine would be a reality.  The death sentence on twelve systems that was given to the franchise via Lucas in the last episodes had been given a stay of execution.

I was fortunate to be alive and old enough when Star Wars Episode V: A New Hope hit the screens for its original theatrical release in 1977.  Over the next six years, the Star Wars saga  would dominate playground banter across the country, no matter of race, gender or creed.  School recess would hear serious discussions of what held Cloud City up, speculation on the Wookie planet and if Princess Leia wore underwear, all while wearing our tee shirts complete with X-Wing iron on decals.

Yet, the two most important topics would always surface, no matter where the timeline for the movies was at that point.  The first would be of how Darth Vader got his iconic life supporting suit.  There was always one kid, in almost every school that had read a fabled book, and said kid would recant the tale of how Anakin Skywalker became Darth Vader.  It usually ended with “no, I’m not joking. Obi Wan Kenobi pushed him into a volcano.”  We doubted.  We all doubted, but alas, in Star Wars Episode 3: Revenge of the Sith, Lucas hit us with the “told ya so” hammer.

And the second important topic that never seemed to leave the Star Wars discussion white board?  The myth of episodes seven, eight and nine.  Oh, the speculation was great, and it was long before any mention of Luke and his puppy mill of Jedi, or Han and Leia becoming space yuppies.  All we knew was Lucas was going to return to do those final three films and call it a career.  But as life does, the years progressed to decades, littles grew up to be bigs (not Luke’s buddy, mind you) and the lore was forgotten.

When Lucas finally decided to return to the saga, he made it clear that there would be no episodes seven, eight and nine.  Six films, all revolving around Darth Vader.  Since Vader had died in the so-called final episode, Lucas saw no reason to continue the story.  Well, that and the fact that fans of the saga were pretty much ready to kill him after his latest works.  The saga was dirtied up with new features every waking moment, and the final insult was to bastardize the lore with ehhhgg…3D.  Check please.

When the folks at Disney bought up the store from Lucas some months back, and announced the films would continue, I could only think that some of the people at Disney were those kids on the playground, all grown up and ready to make those three fabled films happen.  It sounded perfect.  Until everyone remembered that names like Solo, Skywalker and Leia were now a front burner problem.

Knowing the Star Wars fanbase would never accept new actors playing the iconic roles, Disney played the only card they could: they begged the originals to come back.  Now, for some of the costumed actors, this of course wasn’t an issue.  The 800 pound wookie in the room is the fact that Harrison Ford (Han Solo), Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) and Carrie Fisher (Princess Leia) are now way past “well seasoned”.  They’re frigging old, and the years have not been kind to them.

Harrison Ford mailed in his last performance of Indiana Jones so badly,  it was returned for insufficient postage and he may also be the door greeter at my local Wal-Mart.  Ford is slated officially to play Solo again, but unless it has something to do with the now elderly space pirate having an incontinence problem, it hints at being extremely lackluster.  And as my blog partner Big Angry pointed out, wasn’t it just a few short years ago when Ford was embarrassed by playing Solo?  He’s officially at the “just cut me the #$%#$ check” phase of his career.

Carrie Fisher has an altogether different problem.  She’s bat shit crazy.  Let’s just check the ‘ol Twitter of her space majesty to see what kind of mind-set she’s in:

This is me, Carnack Flazbooner, learning to tweet—improving my tweet & potatoes skills for your musical enjoyment…—
Carrie Fisher (@CarrieFFisher) July 11, 2011

and…

flabby buttocks—
Carrie Fisher (@CarrieFFisher) November 18, 2012

Carrie Fisher, everyone.  Make sure the catering department at Disney gets a heads up.  Oh, and by the way, big ups to the 345 whack jobs that retweeted this nutty blather.  Twitter.  It’s like 2nd grade, but without all the paste eating.

Then comes Mark Hamill.  Yes, I know all the crazed Batman fans are going to roll off their gaming chairs to remind me Hamill “kicked serious ass” as the voice of the Joker in the animated series and the video games.  Fantastic.  All I have to say is the great thing about doing voice overs in entertainment is nobody has to look at you.  Here’s a recent pic of Hamill:

Mark Hamill, looking strong enough to pull the wings off…eh, strike that.

Judging by this pic, if Hamill reprises the role (and at press time, he has not committed yet) of Luke Skywalker and runs some mystical Jedi academy, my guess is he’s going to be extremely “hands off” in the action department.  Maybe he’ll be like Yoda and just hang out and cook weird gruel in a pot while the younger generation fights trees and lifts rocks up with their minds.  I know, I know.  When 61 years old I reach, look as good, I will not.  Whatever.

It’s not that I’m not curious.  Hell, I’m more optimistic than I was when George Lucas was busy killing his own life’s work, but I’m not a kid anymore.  Gone are the nights when I would lie awake wondering how our heroes would get Han Solo out of that carbonite, and how I could find a way to marry Carrie Fisher.  Wow.  Consider that bullet dodged.  I will be reserved to see the movies, and try to remember all the good things about the original films before they got all screwed up with FX, CG, 3D and Greedo shooting first.  I mean, what’s the worst that could happen, right?

Some answers, but more questions arise for next season of AMC’s The Walking Dead

Let’s not mince words here, it’s very difficult when a show like The Walking Dead begins to get noticed to provide a balance between giving new fans something to chew on while keeping the old fans biting. There’s a fine line between good drama, good gore, and just the right amount of zombie action. Not to mention just enough Daryl Dixon to keep the ladies drooling. However, instead of trying to cater to an onslaught of new fans and increased commercial value, this season of The Walking Dead remained true to itself and dished up a dark, twisted, and wondrous view of a world spun off its axis.

This season was very character driven and none drove it with more gusto as David Morrissey playing The Governor. There were some who initially lamented over David Morrissey being chosen to serve as The Governor. It lead to a few even crying foul that Danny Trejo wasn’t chosen due to his close resemblance to the graphic novel’s depiction of The Governor. However, let’s get real here kiddos, David Morrissey pulled it off well. Really well in my opinion. Nothing shouts maniacal dictator like an uptight white guy with esteem issues and recent psychological distress including the death of his wife and zombification of his daughter. He’s a man full of vengeance and he served it up this season with a side of fries and a 64 oz fountain drink that would make Mayor Bloomberg cry. Well done, Mr. Morrissey.

We saw characters come and go, either by death or through apocalypse-induced insanity. Booed when Merle came back and boo-hooed when we saw him die. However, not all the deaths were lamentable. Lori’s death was a welcome occurrence and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who thought she was just as bitchy as a ghost-hallucination. Morgan, dear Morgan, we’ve missed you since season 1. I’m sorry you succumbed to this world gone awry and I hoped you’d snap out of it and join the group. Alas it wasn’t meant to be, however, at least now we know what happened with you and no longer have to wonder.

I could go on and on over the character growth, good and bad, in season 3. For this season was about depth of each and every person on both sides and enough crazy to fill a side-effect sound bite on a Celebrex commercial. Enough of that though. Let’s cut to the chase and get to this finale.

After viewing what will be the last new The Walking Dead episode I will see for several months, I have to say I was thrilled and then at the end, slightly confused. To say it wasn’t what I expected would be true, yet, I’m tossing around in my head if that’s good or bad. That’s what has been great about this season, there is no definitive right or wrong.

Well, unless you’re The Governor. He’s a few steps beyond wrong and completely bat-shit crazy at this point. To be honest, I love it. My biggest fear was that they would wrap up The Governor saga with the conclusion of this season. In fact, JB and I have been discussing this for that past few weeks.  He has become probably one of the best, if not the best, villains we have seen in a very long time. Yes, I’ve already talked about him earlier, but damn, he’s worth another mention.  Gotta love evil spiraling further into the brink. You know things are just going to get worse from here.

Overall, it was a very satisfying ending to this season. Well, except for maybe the last five to ten minutes. Andrea? Meh, JB called that one before the break. I wasn’t overly attached to her since season one, so to see her go wasn’t as heart wrenching as Dale, Merle, or even her sister, Amy. Carl, well, he has what Stephen King would refer to as “gunslinger eyes.” The kid is cold, calculating. No longer going with his heart but rather following a chilling objectivity that anything is up if it’s for the good of the group.  Rick, my man, you’ve done it:  Ghost Lori is gone! Now, time to get a handle on Carl before he goes completely apeshit.

However, what left me with an odd taste in my mouth was the ending. Yes, it was good to get the remaining residents of Woodbury together and join forces. Yet, going back to the prison? Seems to me that prison isn’t as sound as it would appear considering how many times it has been easily breached. Though as I write this, is Woodbury really any better? Granted, it would be better suited to meet the needs of everyone from shelter to food. However, you’re talking about the town that The Governor helped to design and defend. Who knows? I’ll leave it to you forum lurkers out there to hash this one out.

Overall, season three of The Walking Dead was an amazing journey. There were very few times that I wasn’t satisfied after watching an episode. Hats off to Glenn Mazzara for playing such a great part in presenting us with an amazing glimpse of how the human element perseveres and crumbles when presented with extreme conditions and choices beyond difficulty. It’s truly a shame to see him depart as show runner after only one season. I can only hope they will continue down the dark, winding, and ultimately, grossly entertaining path we’ve been lead down this season.

Well, folks, as we say farewell to our band of heroes and villains until next October, we can go to bed tonight satisfied that The Walking Dead has stumbled down the right path. Keep it up guys. Now is not the time to falter.

Now, if you will excuse me, it’s time to check out the season premier of Game of Thrones.

I originally signed on Twitter just to promote work from The ThrowDown, because frankly, I didn’t give a damn what most famous people had to say.  That is, until I realized for the first time in our history, social media now allows us to communicate with people who are of a more public variety.  Even celebrities are a bit taken aback by this change, for now their words can be challenged.  I can only envision how this could have changed things if only my Grandpa Maddawg could have tweeted a reply to Milton Berle.

“@UncleMilty, oh yeah? You think you’ve got a big $%&%, bucko? And what’s with dressing like a dame?

Ok, so maybe we just weren’t ready for social media until now.  But ready now, we are.  I know I am, and I’ve got the tweets to prove it.  I’m really not that interested in getting followers or any of that stuff, since I have enough on my plate managing The ThrowDown.  All I can say for sure is when I tweet, I’m usually in a foul mood.  Come to think of it, I’m usually in a foul mood anyway, so at least I’m consistent.  So, in case you’ve missed some of my greatest hits of 140 characters or less, check em out.  I’ve grouped them by topics, just to make things easier.

Famous or Not, Here I Come

Stuff I Google:"Has Eddie Money had a stroke recently?" Don't worry general public, it seems Eddie is just fucked up from all the cocaine.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) January 15, 2013

Van Halen just cancelled several summer concert dates. Band won't confirm why, but I will…Eddie Van Halen is a &@"$??&.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) May 20, 2012

I just heard from a credible source (my mechanic) that @BrianRoss gives handjobs for crack. And Rogaine. #journalismfail #FireBrianRoss—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) July 21, 2012

Can't wait to see how GB's own Simon Pegg does in the Asshole Vault at the #Olympics. All the smart money is on Russell Brand, however.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) July 27, 2012

I'd like Tom Morello to know that while he's playing activist in NY, I beat the fuck out of his lawn mower. #Rageagainstthemachine—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) September 18, 2012

Eva Longoria needs to stop talking about politics. Seriously, she makes Britney Spears sound like Socrates.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) September 07, 2012

Is there some kind of rule that guys under 20 on Twitter must have a shirtless profile pic? #putagoddamnshirton—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) September 08, 2012

Anonymous hacks NBC.com to show world how powerful they truly are. Vows to put "My Two Dads" back on air, if demands aren't met—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) November 05, 2012

When Ozzy Osbourne can open a garbage bag in under an hour, I'll listen to his opinions on society, which will be unintelligable anyway.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) December 17, 2012

So, Joe Namath, Wade Boggs and Diane Sawyer walk into a bar. Yeah, there's no joke there. That's everyday at 10:30 am.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) December 18, 2012

It's cute how Spike Lee thinks he's still part of the film industry.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) February 25, 2013

I should also point out the #NASCAR race yesterday killed less people than Ray Lewis.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) February 24, 2013

Vince Neil was hospitalized for kidney stones. That's fancy talk for complications from being a fall down drunk for 30 years.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) March 11, 2013

If Ray Lewis is travelling on a train @ 45 mph, and the Octomom is travelling on another train @ 23 mph, how many kids will be produced?—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) January 28, 2013

.@edshow I think it's wonderful a "special needs" person like yourself can be on TV. Nice you don't even have to wear the helmet anymore.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) March 13, 2013

So, Josh Groban likes jokes, does he? Here's one: Josh Groban walks into a men's room. Ba-dum-bump. #WhisperingEye—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) March 17, 2013

@JimCarrey Wait. Who the fuck are you, again? Oh, that guy that stalked Emma Stone. Right.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) March 24, 2013

No really. Go read Kylie Jenner's twitter, and tell me there's hope for the future.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) March 12, 2013

Carrie Fisher agrees to join next Star Wars flick. You know, because she was so busy being overweight and bat shit crazy.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) March 06, 2013

Tells you just how easy Kat Von D is to follow up Jesse James with a guy that spins records and wears a big plastic mouse head.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) December 02, 2012

Cher said Sen. Ted Cruz "smells like brimstone"?Surprised she can smell that over her own scent of washed up skank through plastic nostrils—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) February 17, 2013

So, why is The ThrowDown WordPress’ Most Dangerous Blog? Because we don’t fit their, or many other bloggers narrative.  Remember, “let’s just all get along” means “submit”, kids.

Biting the Hand That Feeds

I'd love to thank WordPress for absolutely nothing. All our success is due to us, and outside sources, not your little "social" project. FU.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) October 26, 2011

Thanks WordPress, after the Throwdown posted our 2nd highest 7 day viewer total ever. We enjoyed WP frontpaging how to make popcorn hands.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) November 03, 2011

WordPress:"The Throwdown just released a post mentioning Satan AND Titanic?Quick,bury it under all the stupid posts about cats and flowers!"—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) November 21, 2011

WordPress. One "what's your status?" bar and four weirdos short of becoming Xanga.com—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) June 14, 2012

I have some serious concerns about WordPress when Kate Gosselin's coupon blog is funnier than the entire humor section put together.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) June 14, 2012

ThrowDown Tidbit #6: My unreleased post "Why Blogger is Far Superior to WordPress", would look awesome
In WP's "Freshly Pressed" section.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) July 03, 2012

I see WordPress is tweeting about "Freshly Pressed" this morning. What? No articles about pet psychology or finger sandwich recipes??—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) July 06, 2012

Yes, WordPress,I called members of your staff "muppets". And fix your iPhone app. It crashed 3 times in 3 min, then told me to try Blogger.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) September 20, 2012

Ah, another ThrowDown knockoff. Two guys, vanilla entertainment blog. Boys, you're Adam West and Burt Ward. We're the fucking Avengers.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) October 20, 2012

Also, the "WordPress community" can stop asking me for help. Suck my dick. Help yourselves and stop being a clique of robotic assholes.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) November 02, 2012

I say it, so you don’t have to.

Random Anger

We're passing on a chance to interview Mike "the Situation" Sorrentino. Not that we don't like him, but none of us speaks slimeball.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) May 17, 2012

ThrowDown Tidbit #1. Since 1993, I've had an open door policy to fight Dan Rather, any time, place, or rules. I'll take you down, old man.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) May 31, 2012

No, really. If my X father in law was any dumber, he'd be riding in a van shaped like a dog with Jeff Daniels.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) August 26, 2012

50 Shades of Grey makes Twilight look like The Road Less Travelled.
#wasteofatree—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) October 16, 2012

Mayans? Sorry, I don't listen to dead civilazations that couldn't even figure out how to make a decent pair of pants.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) December 14, 2012

Anonymous. Smart enought to hack gov't computers. Too stupid to read the Twitter ToS.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) December 19, 2012

Time is still an active publication? Do the articles include what a swanky family the Rockefellers are and where to buy a new zoot suit?—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) December 19, 2012

Sorry, I don't want the stripper "working her way through med school". As my stripper, OR my doctor. #Creepytown—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) January 03, 2013

Just realized all the pro Ray Lewis tweets aren't from his PR team. They're his illegitimate children.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) January 13, 2013

No, really.Forget all the gun violence and car crash bullshit. You stand a much better chance of dying by a faulty General Electric product.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) February 13, 2013

It's the motto of the Hooker's Union. @EvaLongoria: My favorite quote RT "@Inspire_Us: Well behaved women seldom make history."—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) February 24, 2013

Btw, OH creep, iPhones have a flip feature to take a pic of yourself. No mirror needed, you trundling dumbass.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) March 09, 2013

Nothing says beta male like attending feminist rallies, posting pics of Volvos & tweeting your poetry. God, hide the Streisand albums.—
Jake Bloomquist (@JBMaddawg) March 09, 2013

Well, hope you enjoyed.  If my anger issues have made you laugh, smile or chortle in any fashion, believe me, it’s worth it.  If not, just put on “Turn, Turn, Turn” by the Byrds, and re read it all over again.  Happy Easter to all those celebrating, and if you aren’t…well, just put a bunch of Peeps in the microwave.  It’s a hoot.

Laterness~JB