Seriously, I’m immune from this eviction
shit. You’re lucky I’m even HERE. I could write about
poop in a bag and you would have to take it, and take it
with gratitude. You would say ‘Oh thank you Paul! Thank
you for enlightening us about bag poop. We love you.’
And I would kick you out of bed, and you would never see
me again.
I
have looked around the site to see just how little I can
get away with writing. My dedication to you, the fans,
is that strong. Fan, really. I hold no preconceptions, I
KNOW IT IS JUST YOU READING. Anyway, the number varied
from a handsome 1,500 words to a frankly retarded 4,200
(a healthy fruit basket for the man who can tell me who
that fffffucking was). I have written essays shorter. I
already hate this place.
As I
scoured my Local Second-Hand Media Shop for source
material toward this task, trying to avoid the lustful
gaze of the scary obese goth chick behind the counter, I
realised something: my pants were missing. I also
realised that PPVs are the devil’s work, and every
single one of them is a hideous abortion seemingly
crafted to drive me to tears, drink, and foreign
prostitutes. So piss on that, I cry. I shall ‘rant’ on
something with strong ties to wrestling, but not a
godforsaken PPV. I bring you:
THE WRONG SIDE OF TOWN STARRING DAVE
BAUTISTA ROB VAN DAM AND JA RULE MOVIE RANT
OOOOOOOOOH
It
also stars Omarion!
I
found this DVD at random; I had no goddamn idea this
film was ever made. According to the case, RVD’s
character is called Bobby. I hope to god his full name
is Bobby V-Damzo is something like that. Batista plays
Davey Pitootie, and Ja Rule plays…nah, I can’t make that
name sillier. Short plot overview: a guy attacks RVD’s
wife, RVD frog-splashes him and he dies. Guy’s brother
wants revenge (and the hardcore title belt) so he puts
up a $100,000 bounty on Mr. V-Damzo’s head. His daughter
is kidnapped, cause that has to happen to every action
star with a Belgian surname, So he goes to all-out
street war in a blaze HAHA DRUGS of bullets and bad
acting. There is no mention of Batista, and yet he is on
the case no more than three fucking times. Here we
go.
The
DVD opens up with a trailer for a poorly filmed eastern
movie featuring…basketball playing parkour martial
artists. Ok, well fucking done Asia. You’ve
basically tried to make the most American friendly film
EVER. The film is called Fireball, if anyone wants to go
out and buy it in an act of masochism. At first I
thought it was called Freeball, and nearly
died.
Next
trailer is a film about bare-knuckle fighting in
Ireland,
starring VINNIE JONES AND MICHAEL MADSEN. THE MOST IRISH
ACTORS ALIVE. Who can forget Madsen’s bone-chilling line
in Reservoir Dogs, HOO-DE HEE HAR DE BLARNEY STONE
BEGORAH COVEREMINPETROL HAHEHOOHOO
Next
trailer is some weird-ass Sri Lankan crap. I’m gonna
call it Dude With Knife 2: This Time, I Have More
Knives. Choreography was actually pretty
good.
Film
starts with Ashton Kutcher tied to a chair by a dock,
with ZZ Top punching the crap out of him. A deflated
Goldberg in a terrible suit tells him he should not have
ratted him out to the cops! Grr, cop ratter. A poor
man’s Clint Eastwood is also there, whom I gather to be
a bent cop or something. Everyone keeps saying ‘Nicky,
Nicky, Nicky.’ Cause that’s what passes for acceptable
dialogue around here, repeating the guy’s name in a
colloquial fashion. Audiencey, Audiencey, Audiencey.
Something sarcastic said in a mean tone to convey that I
am the bad guy. Fuck this film. Did the guy seriously
say he had a wife and two kids? What’s next, he’s two
days from retirement? He’s in the river now anyway, to
hell with him.
The
opening titles are done in a faux-Bond style, only with
silhouetted black dudes punching buildings. I still do
not know who Omarion is. Is it a fruit? I do know who
Nelson Frazier Jr. is, though! Viscera is in this film!
Well don’t I just want to keep watching the FUCK out of
this. The highlight of the opening sequence must be ‘and
introducing Marrese Crump’. I think I had a Marrese
Crump once. We cross-bred it with a rottweiler.
Rob
Van Dam is cutting logs with a chainsaw. I could
probably make a drugs joke out of that, but HE HAS GIVEN
UP THE CHAINSAW AND IS JUST PUNCHING THE WOOD AND NOW
HIS DAUGHTER IS DROWNING IN A POOL WHAT THE FUCK. Turns
out she was only joking, which is possibly the most
horrifying practical joke since I pretended to be blind
that one year. Got so much free stuff,
seriously.
Also, remember Charlize Theron in Monster? Where
she gained all that weight, and got all lumpy and crazy
and shit? RVD’s wife in this looks like that. All the
time. Every day.
The
editing is so shoddy in this film it looks like RVD has
the power to fucking disapparate. After a few seconds of
pretending to be a married couple, RVD and Monster go to
meet the new neighbour at the door, who is Urkel. Urkel
asks for a hammer, which is in no way suspicious or
creepy. He invites MonsterVD to dinner in the city. I
hate this. I can’t fucking get pictures of this film, so
I’m trying to make it INTERESTING for you bastards,
alright? Hell, you’ll read Halo’s shit, you’ll read
mine.
They’re in Urkel’s car, and by God if that square
black bastard doesn’t have him some young pussy. He also
claims to be friends with the owner of the biggest club
in the city! It is apparently ‘happening.’ Another thing
that is happening is my brain slowly melting into
itself. I also think they missed a trick not casting
RVD’s wife as a huge Jamaican man, but I think that’s
just how my mind works. I’m only ten minutes into the
film, so I’ll stop analysing every small detail that
passes now.
My,
this club certainly is happening! White middle-aged men
in waistcoats abound. Funky fresh-cool club beats
pervade my butt and face, and cocaine is certainly being
done in the toilets. Club life. Turns out that the owner
Urkel speaks of is none other than Deflated Goldberg,
whom we shall now call Defberg, cause it sounds silly.
Defberg has an office in the club, with…a fucking
fireplace? Seriously? Ok, that’s impressive. He leaves
his little brother Seth Green in charge as he takes care
of other business, who proceeds to snort cocaine off a
plastic crucifix, because thug life. He runs into Mrs.
VD (not a good nickname for a girl), inexplicably finds
her attractive, and tries to rape her all up in this
bitch. RVD shouts ‘get up, motherfucker’ in the least
threatening way possible, and Seth Green ends up
falling on his own knife. Guy is that dumb. Urkel
sees a problem in the future, because he is just fucking
psychic.
Cut
to Defberg and Poor Clint Eastwood in a limo. Clint
spouts the most vague shit like ‘everything is good’ and
‘all problems are taken care of.’ The plots raises its
tired head for the last time, blinks, and goes to
eternal sleep. Defberg sees dead brother, Defberg
pretends to act sad but ends up looking like there is a
porcupine inside his ass, Defberg swears vengeance
against RVD and sets up the main event for
Summerslam.
Did
I mention that this film is written, scored and directed
by the same guy? It shows.
All
the gangs are notified: 100 grand for RVD, alive! They
all car chase RVD and Urkel while RVD acts the
fuck out of the paper bag of a script they gave
him. He’s the only man in the world who can make ‘call
911’ sound like ‘do you have any double-quilted toilet
roll.’ Customary car park chase ensues! One guy shoots
RVD in the leg, and then they…fucking leave him in a
dumpster, seemingly forgetting about the $100,000 they
get if they BRING HIM TO FUCKING DEFBERG. The Urkel RVD
tag team (and their respective bitches) leave the car in
a bad neighbourhood, prompting a surprisingly funny
scene where Urkel locks the car about 5 times while
walking away.
ZZ
Top try to convince Defberg that RVD is dead. He is not.
Gangstas argue about a GPS, in a drop-top camaro.
The Gangstas capture our sexy heroes, and RVD fights his
way out. Urkel is killing me, seriously. He says to one
of the Gangstas ‘We’ve come a long way from slavery to
Obama. You need to stop using the N word, it’s
disrespectful.’ Can we have a sequel where it is just
this guy going about his life? The heroes take the
camaro and scarper quick-sharp.
They
get to a police station, and I will bet you half my
balls it is the very one the bent cop works inOH I’M
RIGHT. Eastwood does, uh…nothing. He gets them in a
taxi, then texts the completely unknown taxi driver
trusting that he will sell out his passengers. He does,
but that’s not the point. At this point my DVD freezes,
and when it starts up again RVD is in a gas station
surrounded by neo-nazis, a man with a mullet and no
pigment in his pupils, and Viscera. Pretty much a normal
Friday night for Rob.
Viscera has some weird shit going on with his
hair. He seems to have oiled it down and to the side in
kind of a cropped Hitler thing. I will also never trust
a 7 foot black man who only wears a combat vest. One of
the Nazis call Viscera a big ape, which is so so racist.
Another seems to be wearing a mesh shirt, when it is
clearly nighttime. Fashion is no excuse for chilly
nipples, my supremacist friend. Anyway, Van Dam kicks
the fuck out of everyone then drives off in the taxi,
only to abandon his family and friends two blocks down
the road to go meet Batista in a strip club. Again,
normal Friday night.
This
seems to be set in a strip club just to give an excuse
to show some ripe round American titties, and I really
don’t approve of this. After I’m done masturbating, RVD
tries to recruit Batista into helping him against
Defberg in the greatest example of acting since De Niro
vs Pacino. One thing I noticed: There was a blonde
stripper sitting next to Batista nonchalantly with her
breasts out. When she stands up, she FASTENS HER TOP
BACK UP. Is it just me or is that the wrong way
round?
Blah
blah, Mrs. VD goes back home, Eastwood talks to Defberg,
the plot is furthered slightly. A lot of this film is
RVD limping through parks in silence. An awful
lot.
Oh
no, it’s Night of the Living Gangstas! And there’s one
platinum blonde white guy with them for no reason. Ja
Rule becomes the only celebrity to wander a park at
night who isn’t looking to score gay sex, as he accosts
RVD. Van Dam holds his own until he is shown exactly who
is Ruler of Ja, and succumbs to the beatdown. Then
Batista appears, Hurrah! He set the whole thing up.
Hurroo.
RVD
shouts about how he took a bullet for Batista (they were
both Navy Seals) and he has a change of heart. This
shows his character to be tough and self-serving, yet
not devoid of compassion and friendship. That is until
he point blank shoots Ja Rule through his face for tell
him to fuck himself. RVD then allies himself with this
FUCKING MANIAC. Batista, by the way, is wielding the
most hilariously small uzi ever. His arms can hardly
bend to hold the grip, and he looks fucking ridiculous.
What the hell is his sidearm, a
derringer?
We
cut to Urkel in bed, because that’s what the ladies came
to see. We then go to RVD being followed by a biker, who
uh slaps a bike chain gingerly on RVD’s back then gets
violently dismounted a few seconds later. RVD steals the
bike, failing to even attack the biker who SHOOTS HIM IN
THE SHOULDER. Van Dam plain fucking disregards this as a
minor inconvenience, and just rides home. I honestly
wish the film ended here, because that would have been
hilarious: Van Dam goes home, gets in bed, and stops
giving a fuck about the 50 or so people trying to kill
him.
No, the film is continuing, and RVD is injecting
himself in the ass. Lot of normal Friday nights in this
film, huh.
Only
when crawling into bed does he realise his wife is bound
and gagged, and that his daughter has been kidnapped. Oh
no! Navy Seal gear getting-on montage, fuck yes. RVD
looks ridiculous in a biker
helmet.
There are 20 minutes left in this film, and I
honestly think that we will not see Batista again. The
fucker is the FULL FOCUS of the cover and disc art. It’s
like Marlon Brando’s contribution to the godfather being
a 2-minute scene in which he farts and blames it on the
dog. I’m sorry for comparing this to the
Godfather.
RVD’s daughter has been kidnapped by Defberg, who
has set up a devious plan to lure him to an abandoned
industrial site. Like every other film a certain Belgian
named action star has made. I really cannot tell who is
Omarion still.
Poor
Clint Eastwood tries to be heroic and all Let The Girl
Go! This conversation somehow reveals that Seth Green
was in fact Defberg’s son, not his brother. This, again,
is very original. Defberg kills Eastwood, because
Eastwood turned on him in their tag-team match at
Backlash and cost him his intercontinental title. Either
that or because he called his son a coke-addicted
fucknut.
Enter RVD, wearing the most fucking hilarious
Navy Seal get-up in history. The dude’s body is really
not suited for a tactical vest and jumpsuit, believe me.
He looks like the Hunchback of Notre Dame joined a
militia. Surely it must be hard to be a Navy Seal when
you run like you’re trying your best not to wake up a
tiger.
RVD
rescues his hot daughter and hides her in a dumpster,
which is coincidentally what I do with children I take
care of. Fight scene! RVD kicks some henchman ass. One
of the henchmen is about 50 years old, and looks like
Jim Gordon. Something tells me Defberg is not the best
at hiring talent. Customary fucking wrestling moves as
you always must do in a wrestler-starred action movie
but at least they’re the ones grounded in real martial
arts like an armbar (remember the Rock Bottom in Welcome
To The Jungle? I mean come on, that’s silly). Not so
sure about when a henchman does a Terry Funk style
toehold, but what the fuck.
Hot
shit, it’s Batista! He promptly shoots ZZ Top dead and
hand-to-hand fights Defberg’s top henchman. NORMAL
FRIDAY. As my fucking DVD keeps freezing, all I can
gather is that Batista is sitting on the other man,
punching him in the face. Then they both get out knives,
Batista CUTS THE GUY’S NIPPLE OFF AND BITES HIM ON THE
ARM. I will refrain from saying normal Friday. Henchman
escapes.
RVD
confronts Defberg who has re-captured his daughter, and
then just fucking breaks his neck in all of a minute.
The goddamn terrible editing kicks into gear once more,
as the top cyclo-nippled henchman seemingly appears from
thin air to clock RVD one. A terribly mismatched fight
scene occurs, with RVD moving so slow you can actually
see him decide when he is going to punch. Batista then
hits the henchman over the head with a large stick, and
RVD’s daughter does not react in the slightest to seeing
two men die. Stupid bitch.
And
that’s it, I guess. So ends the worst 85 minutes of my
life, apart from that one bus ride where I was raped.
This film reminded me in a way of Schindler’s List: it
made me cry, it contained examples of horrible crimes
committed against man, and it was very hard to
masturbate to. I hope you enjoyed it, or at least read
three paragraphs before giving up and going on to
something more coherent and
interesting.
I
love you.
WELCOME TO
