Watchin’ Kiddie Flicks
Obviously, I was a more apprehensive about using this title than a curious dwarf near an electrical outlet with a paperclip. You know, some fools would just click on this to read it because they think there will be nudey pictures of childrens, and/or a blog about such nastiness. Or they might think it is a Pee Wee Herman fan site. But alas, like a turd in a freshly stirred punch bowl, I just go with the flow. I don’t try to stop what comes forth from my noggin’, just like Kevin Bacon breakin’ it down to Kenny Loggins. See what I mean?
Eitherwho, last night I was sitting in in my wife’s new chair – I previously purchased her a couch, chair, and ottoman from some Furniture Palace or wherever; but I ruined the chair due to a Linda Blair-like regurgitation issue that occurred after me and a friend “had a taste of whiskey”, which happened to be 3/4′s of a 1/5 of 126 proof Booker’s bourbon – tinglin’ the keys while watching Kung Fu Panda with the other two higher ups in the Smith Group (wife and son). This isn’t my first foray into the animated world of kung fu junction. I’ve seen this flick more times than that video of the booger on the end of your finger on YouTube. But sitting here watching it on the big flat screen TV – after having consumed some wine and being made to leave a friend’s house earlier than I wanted – I have realized that this is seriously one of the best yute movies ever.
This movie is funny because a fat ass, cuddly panda becomes the most badass disciple of the rodent equivalent to David Carradine. Dustin Hoffman hasn’t had a better role since Blow-Pop, or whatever that flick was where he played the transformer. It was definitely more than met Charles Dern’s eyes. Kung Fu Panda is like a comedic and spiritual call to arms for all of us that are north of the Mason-Dixon waistline. It is saying hey, “being funny when you’re fat isn’t hard.” You fart more, jiggle when you walk – which makes you look like an all-weather Jell-O snowman – and make everyone else at the gym laugh their tighter asses off when you show up looking for the doughnut table before you hit the treadmill. It teaches us that you can be fat, funny, and get some shit accomplished if we put our guts into it. There isn’t a movie that has been more humorous, yet inspiring for fat peoples like myself since The Nutty Professor - the one with the formerly hard-core funny Eddie Murphy. Who decided wearing leather outfits and cussing wasn’t the proper career route, so he turned to the family side of the Force like some kind of formerly funny Jedi who got sucked in by the heavy cash of soft, non-controversial puss films that the whole family could not only enjoy, but quote at church.
Kung Fu Panda isn’t about making funny noises, pulling your sack while trying to kick something at a level higher than your bean pod or punching through brick walls with an ice cream cone in your hand. It’s about believing in yourself and, no matter what the odds, giving it the best that you can. Thank God that movie is funny too, because all this meaningful message shit usually either makes me start writing about how lame the theory behind it is, or drink a bottle or two of wine. If I nude any more, you’d be able to fingerprint my scrotum. Indians liked poles whose nature was totum. If I wasn’t bein’ sincere, I’d have cauliflower ear. Sorry, every once in a while I just start rhymin’, like the yodelin’ fool on the Price Is Right who was always climbin’. I need to stop. Drop. And roll out…
