CALIFORNIA — Legendary American actor, filmmaker, and artist Dennis Hopper lost his battle with prostate cancer this morning and passed away in his home. He was 74.
Hopper was best known for his roles in “Easy Rider” and “Apocalypse Now,” but the younger generations knew him as the bad guy in the movie “Speed.” I would argue that the pinnacle of Hopper’s career was when he played the villian in the 1995 post-apocalyptic action film“Waterworld” — easily one of the best movies in history.
2009 marked the major beginning of Hopper’s health decline when his manager reported he had been diagnosed with cancer. Shortly after, Hopper’s cancer advanced into his bones and he began to slowly waste away until he weighed only 100 pounds.
Hopper was relatively discreet about his health issues, therefore, his final months were most likely peaceful — well, as peaceful as can be when you’re dying of cancer.
The coolest thing about Dennis Hopper was that he could kick ass in any role, even if it didn’t make sense. Take his role as King Koopa in the “Super Mario Bros.” film for example — Hopper played a HUMAN King Koopa. Nothing is more blasphemous than that.
When people watched this movie for the first time, they were like “What the fuck? King Koopa is NOT human… yet I don’t seem to mind because it’s Dennis Hopper.” But when he finally turned into a dinosaur, everyone was like, “WTF, bring back Dennis Hopper!”
It’s also important to note that Luigi didn’t even have a mustache in the film either.
Bottom line, Dennis Hopper was an American icon / World hero that made every film better with his presence. He will be missed, and cancer will be hated a little more by everyone.
If you follow no less than 5 people on Twitter you’ll quickly realize that this country’s literacy problem is like a drug-resistant strain of AIDS that even Magic Johnson couldn’t fight off. It just keeps evolving and mutating to the point where some people look like they’ve given up trying to spell and just threw a fucking bag of Scrabble tiles on the floor and then picked up random letters using their sweaty, bare ass cheeks. Then they take the tiles, throw them at the computer like a chimp hurling his own shit, and press “Enter”.
Americans’ choice of reading material seems no better than their ability to coherently combine a subject and predicate, either. Lucky for them, e-readers and iPads are rapidly growing in popularity, so nobody in a Starbucks, airport terminal, subway car or city bus will be able to judge them by the cover of the 700-page abortion of literature they’re struggling to comprehend. Rest easy, you closeted Dr. Phil fans – nobody can see you reading weight loss tips from a fat guy.
Personally, I haven’t the luxury of free time to read since I decided to get married and abandon various forms of contraception such as pulling out (Sure, I could skip this blog post and pick up a book, but then there’d be nobody to salvage Dustin’s sagging site traffic and waning credibility). However, when granted the rare opportunity to kick back and read with no interruptions I generally prefer dark humor, history and especially biographies. As much as I’ve enjoyed Stephen King’s tales of ghostly alien transsexual rapists from New England, somehow I doubt any of it really adds to the little knowledge my aging brain is able to retain.
Sadly our digital and brick & mortar book stores are stacked to the ceilings with more worthless material than an Ed Hardy factory outlet store. Our taste in what we read is as bad as our taste in the food we eat, so it came as no surprise to me to hear that Demi Moore has approached various publishers to shop around her autobiography, quite possibly the literary equivalent of the KFC Double Down.
If I took life more seriously, I’d almost be offended at the notion of a washed-up actress pushing age 50 thinking anyone gives a shit enough to buy and read a book about her life. First, let’s get the obvious out of the way – if you have to “shop around” your autobiography, that means nobody’s banging down your door to buy it. It’s like finding Cuba Gooding Jr.’s Best Supporting Actor Oscar at a yard sale and then going to every pawn shop in town trying to get the best deal for it. I guess acting school doesn’t offer a course on economics, because Mrs. Kutcher has no sense of supply and demand.
Second, what the fuck’s so interesting about Demi Moore? She’s lucky if the tabloids run a back-page story about her leaving a shitty tip at a trendy L.A. restaurant. Most people with popular autobiographies have already had their exploits fully disclosed to the public, but writing their own book gives the readers a first-hand account of what really went down. As far as I can recall, I don’t remember hearing any juicy tales of Demi Moore getting sent to drug rehab or her controversial acquittal of double-homicide. The most interesting thing about her is that she’s undergone more plastic surgery than the Jackson family, and at this point most likely douches with formaldehyde. She’s boring as shit. Even her high-profile divorce from Bruce Willis was amicable, and she probably has the Die Hard Trilogy (sorry, there’s no part 4 as far as I’m concerned) on the same shelf as her family home videos.
“Yippee-ki-yay, mother-of-my-children-fucker!”
Here’s the entire chapter list for those of you wondering what such a fascinating, in-depth peek into the life of Demi Moore may look like:
Chapter 1: A Bunch of Boring Shit About Growing Up
Chapter 2: People Actually Start Paying Me to Act
Chapter 3: I Marry John McClane
Chapter 4: My Career’s Slowing Down
Chapter 5: I Make My Plastic Surgeon an Overnight Millionaire
Chapter 6: I’m Hot and Still Can’t Find Work
Chapter 7: I Divorce John McClane and Marry the Guy from Punk’d
Chapter 8: Wrote This Book and Can’t Believe You Read This Far
Chapter 9: The Book is Too Worn by Now – No Refund for You
I think if I ever saw anyone actually reading this book, I’d grab it from their hands, set it on fire, scorch their eyes with it and throw them down a flight of stairs. This is the kind of book women buy when they don’t want to look dumb reading Star Magazine and feel they’d appear smarter with a thick, hardcover book in their hands. It’s like soccer moms listening to the Black Eyed Peas and thinking they’re hip and modern. Shit is shit is shit, and I wouldn’t use Demi Moore’s autobiography to wipe my ass (mostly because my hemorrhoids need something with aloe).
On April 22nd, Poison frontman Brett Michaels was rushed to the hospital after suffering a massive subarachnoid hemorrhage in his brain. Four days later, he remains in critical condition with slurred speech — and doctors still don’t know what caused the hemorrhage.
In layman’s terms, a subarachnoid hemorrhage is when your brain pees blood on itself.
The situation is serious right now, actually. Every moment is a fight to save Brett’s life because another hemorrhage is likely to happen if the source of the bleeding isn’t stopped.
THE HAT DILEMMA
Brett Michaels’ real hair hasn’t been seen since the 80’s — he wore bandanas on his head 100% of the time until recently when he switched to flamboyant rhinestone cowboy hats. This may have been his downfall.
The drastic cranial wardrobe switch may have upset the balance of blood flow in Brett’s brain, leading to the massive hemorrhage. But wait, there’s further proof.
Notice the picture to the right: Brett is wearing both a bandana and a rhinestone cowboy hat. I hadn’t noticed this until today, but it appears that Brett didn’t switch from bandana to hat — he simply added a hat.
Wearing a bandana under the hat makes perfect sense for Brett because it provides additional coverage if the hat falls off — he would rather die than expose his balding scalp to anyone. However, the hat may have additionally constricted Brett’s head on top of the bandana he was already wearing, leading to a massive bloodrush when he removed them both later in private. It all makes sense now!
From now on, I propose a shaved head look for Brett Michaels. Not only will it eliminate the sensitivity he has about balding, but it will improve blood flow in his brain and decrease the chance of another hemorrhage. But either way, those fagtastic rhinestone hats gotta go.
Chuck Norris and I have a special relationship — we communicate with each other telepathically. Today, I was wishing Chuck a happy birthday when our brain link was interrupted by the news of Corey Haim’s untimely death.
Actor Corey Haim died of an accidental drug overdose today. He was 38-years-old and one of the best child stars of the ’80s. The problem is, it’s also the 70th birthday of legendary God Chuck Norris. Chuck was drinking his 70th birthday manshake when he heard the news, and it put a spoil on his whole day.
Both Chuck and myself have been fans of Corey Haim since 1986 when we saw the movie Silver Bullet together — our favorite scene was when Corey shot a bottle rocket into the werewolf preacher’s eye. Remember that, Chuck?
As an outspoken anti-drug Christian, Chuck Norris hates all the pharmaceutical companies cashing in on the misery of depressed Americans. That’s something he can’t stop by himself.
Chuck Norris had big plans for his 70th birthday. To prove that he’s completely unaffected by advancing age, he was going to fight seventy other 70-year-olds at the same time, while simultaneously catching falling babies from a burning building.
But ultimately, we both decided it would be insensitive to have that much fun on the same day as losing our beloved Corey Haim to drugs.
Instead, we have decided to provide Sidecarsally readers with Chuck Norris-certified alternatives to dangerous life-raping prescription drugs:
Ritalin: Hang a menacing poster of Chuck Norris in the room with a hyperactive child to calm them.
Anti-depressants: Watch a Chuck Norris movie and pretend that you are Chuck Norris.
Viagra: Watch a Chuck Norris movie and pretend that you are Chuck Norris.
Obesity medication: The Chuck Norris Total Gym.
HIV medication: It’s probably best just to adhere to your usual prescription regimen.
What a bi-polar day, huh? RIP Corey Haim and happy birthday Chuck Norris. Oops, I meant to wish you a happy birthday first, Chuck — please don’t kill me.
True Fact:Chuck Norris plays Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3 on his Playstation 4.
I’ve got a midget that works for me under the table. Not because I don’t have an “authorized midget employer” permit, but because he’s too short to see over his workstation — so he works under it. His job is to alert me whenever a male celebrity gets arrested for (or goes on trial for) hitting a woman — then I write a story about it.
My midget has a very simple job, and he fucked it up. Did you know Charlie Sheen got arrested for assaulting his wife with a knife on Christmas? I didn’t. Normally, I would have released the dogs on my midget for letting that whopper slip by me, but he informed me that Sheen appeared in court today to be charged. I suppose my midget can live.
COLORADO — Charlie Sheen and his wife Brooke Mueller were seen leaving an Aspen courthouse Monday, holding hands and smiling. One might think they just won a big lawsuit, but nope — Sheen was charged with three felonies for assaulting her.
On Christmas, Mueller told police that she threatened to divorce Sheen and take their twin sons with her. He replied by brandishing a knife and saying he could have her killed. Notice the clever use of words — he did not say “I will kill you,” but merely imposed that the possibility of her having an “untimely death” was in his hands — which is still a threat.
Sheen’s charges include felony menacing, assault, and criminal mischief. Apparently, only gangsters in movies can get away with threatening a hit on someone.
Sheen denies holding a knife to his wife’s neck, but admits to smashing her eyeglasses and “slapping her arm.” Smashing her glasses was a proper battle tactic, but arm-slapping? Replace that with a tit-slap and you’re onto something, Charles.
This isn’t the first time Sheen has terrorized a woman. In 1990, he accidentally shot actress Kelly Preston in the arm with a gun — she married John Travolta a year later (fail). Sheen was also charged with threatening his ex-wife Denise Richards with violence in ‘97.
But despite her husband’s death threats, Brooke Mueller wants the charges dismissed. “They hugged in the courtroom, they hugged downstairs and they are hugging in the car,” her attorney told reporters. I’m sure it was a real Jim Beam and Kodak moment.
If convicted, Sheen faces prison time and whatever else a person usually gets for felony menacing and assault — I forgot how long they locked me up for it.
Brett Michaels’ real hair hasn’t been seen since the 80’s — he wore bandanas on his head 100% of the time until recently when he switched to flamboyant rhinestone cowboy hats. This may have been his downfall.
Actor Corey Haim died of an accidental drug overdose today. He was 38-years-old and one of the best child stars of the ’80s. The problem is, it’s also the 70th birthday of legendary God Chuck Norris. Chuck was drinking his 70th birthday manshake when he heard the news, and it put a spoil on his whole day. 
But ultimately, we both decided it would be insensitive to have that much fun on the same day as losing our beloved Corey Haim to drugs.
