I dont know who the guy who wrote this is, but as a guy who grew up in rural, southern Missouri...here,here!!!
Larry the Cable Guy: Health Inspector / Dustin Rowles
I found it semi-ironic and somewhat flattering that, last week, many of the commenters on my V for Vendetta review took the opportunity to call me “pretentious” for overusing “long” and “foreign” words. For a dumb guy from Arkansas, “pretentious” is the closest thing to intelligent I’ve ever been called. Indeed, given my Confederate-state upbringing, I was actually kind of looking forward to sitting through and reviewing Larry the Cable Guy: Health Inspector and had made plans to do the South justice in easy-to-read language that my extended family could understand, if only they weren’t illiterate (sorry, Meemaw). Living in the Northeast for the past decade, however, I knew nothing of Larry the Cable Guy; my introduction to the catchphrase he smuggled into the zeitgeist was a bottle opener my father-in-law stuffed into my stocking over Christmas that announced, “GIT-R-DONE!” every time I opened a beer — a bottle opener that, unfortunately, I will now have to take a sledgehammer to, rendering Larry mute forevermore in my household. It’s a shame, too, because I had high hopes for a movie that might offer a Foxworthyesque brand of ribbing to the South, prodding us about our lack of teeth, the broken appliances that litter our front yards, and the state of our transportable houses (for the record, my mother lives in the nicest mobile home in her entire town, which says a lot in a place where the mayor’s office, the video store, and the bank are all trailers).
Unfortunately, I was harshly warned of Larry’s brand of humor on a recent car trip, in which I took the opportunity to do some research by listening to the Blue Collar Comedy radio station. Though many of the comics broadcast that day captured the humor inherent to the states below the Mason-Dixon line (particularly, a bit about Wal-Mart by a guy named Bill Engvall), it was Larry who lowered the bar, reminiscing about how Janet Jackson’s Super Bowl wardrobe malfunction made him “want to drink chocolate milk for the next six months.”
Yeah. Racist jokes are clever, aren’t they?
To my mind, there are two types of Southerners, both of which are well reflected in country music. First, there is the South that I am fond of: the laid-back gentility; the charming drawls; the good old boys who occasionally tell off-color jokes but who on the whole, are good people — unpretentious, winsome, and good-natured Christian folks who love their country, their kids and, above all, biscuits and gravy. These are the Garth Brookses, the Randy Travises, and if you’re lucky, the Willie Nelsons of the South.
Then there are the other Southerners — the people that Larry the Cable Guy depicts: the nasty, racist, homophobic mullet-wearing rednecks who trumpet the N-word whenever possible, think that gay-bashing is their birthright, wrap themselves in Jesus and the Flag to justify their bigotry and excuse both their ignorance and slovenliness, and who spent a good deal of their formative years beating the shit out of kids like me. These folks are, of course, represented by Toby Keith, Darrel Whorley, and Robert Duvall characters, and — thankfully — most of these people are too fucking lazy to get out off their ripped, yard-sale couches to attend a movie they can’t afford to see anyway (I told you bastards that you should’ve invested my lunch money in Apple stock).
I offer all this exposition by way of telling you I don’t have a lot to say about Health Inspector other than to compare Larry’s brand of “comedy” to the dumbassery of Toby Keith — humorless, vile, and not even well intentioned. In fact, I suspect that many Southerners would revile Larry themselves if they knew that he was a carpet-bagging Nebraskan fuckwit who attended private schools in Florida, presumably to learn how to trade in the most contemptible stereotypes Southerners for a goddamn dollar. Indeed, Health Inspector only served to remind me of why I left the South rather than suffer round after round of disparagement for my use of long words and my tolerance for anybody that doesn’t shop at Wal-Mart or beat his wife.
As for the film’s plot summary — I don’t care, you don’t care, and there is very little to offer anyway, but here goes: Larry plays a health inspector, a plot contrivance that gives him license to visit many ethnic restaurants and offer up lame “immigrant food” jokes at the expense of Indians, Asians, blacks, and Greeks. (Don’t worry, though — he’s got a black friend, so there’s no way he could be racist, right?) Unfortunately, because Larry is a shower-pissing loose cannon, he’s ultimately saddled with a partner, Amy Butlin (Iris Bahr) — a prim, flat-chested woman who wears her hair in a pony tail, which, according to Larry, means she is a “fag.” (Gay jokes are a running theme throughout Health Inspector — in Larry’s eyes, apparently, there is no better way to emasculate someone than to call him gay). Amy and Larry are trying to find the saboteur who keeps poisoning the area’s finest restaurants with diarrhea-inducing additives, an element that easily plays into Larry’s penchant for flatulence humor, giving him free reign to fart at whim or, even better: plant his petite, attractive girlfriend (Megyn Price) onto the toilet for an evening of defecation sound effects — plops and reverberations that you, too, can listen to simply by paying the price of admission!
As the plot progresses, many of Hollywood’s finest character actors find ingenious ways to sully their names: Tom Wilson (Biff Tannen to most of you) plays Larry’s sexually confused boss; Tony Hale (“Arrested Development”’s Buster, who just isn’t as funny without a hook on his arm) is wheelchair bound, and thus the target of Larry’s handicapped jokes; David Koechner plays the “semi-retard” who keeps hitting himself with a soccer ball; Joe Pantoliano is the mayor who can’t stop ogling women’s breasts; and even Kid Rock found the lone project that could further debase a man who had already starred alongside Scott Stapp in videotaped sexual shenanigans.
Through it all, Health Inspector takes shape as the cinematic equivalent of middle Pennsylvania (Pennsyltucky), demonstrating all that is ugly about the South without incorporating any of its charm. Indeed, Health Inspector is the lowest form of comedy: repulsive and proudly ignorant and, perhaps worst of all, Larry ridicules those he means to amuse, while propagating unfair cultural stereotypes about the South, validating and confirming the opinions of their uppity, intellectual counterparts in the North. Of all the films I’ve had the displeasure to sit through as a movie critic, I can safely say that none are as abhorrent as Health Inspector, and I beseech anyone who will listen to avoid it at all costs and, please, throw sharp objects at those who choose to attend, and when they are writhing in pain and bleeding from their open wounds, stuff their pie holes with a Confederate flag and tell them Pajiba sent you.
Dustin Rowles is the publisher of Pajiba and managing partner of its parent company, which prefers to remain anonymous for reasons pertaining to public relations. He lives in Ithaca, New York.
and that made me think..what the hell does "The Weight" have to do with phones? Then, they ripped off one of my all time favorite songs with "Melissa" by the Allman Brothers...
And then, watching TV last night I heard "Solsbury Hill" by Peter Gabriel
Do these people need the $$ THAT much? After having lunch with my friend who is in advertising, he told me that these companies are trying to make a connection with us boomers by using our favorite songs. I told him the only thing it does for me is to make me NEVER to buy their products. Then, the killer rip off is of "Inna Gadda Da Vida" by Iron Butterfly. 
It has NO connection with Fidelity Investments or whatever.
He has sold every song, it seems, to just about anyone (Hummers, shoes, CBS TV shows). Apparently GM offered the remaining members of the Doors $15 million for the rights to "Break On Through".
John Densmore turned them down. Good for him. The use of classic rock songs in advertising shows me a lack of creativity on the part of advertising agencies and a lack of foresight on the companies that approve the usage of these campaigns. I will always think twice before purchasing these products.
Supposedly taken right outside of Sedalia during the deadly storms earlier this month. Wow!
This was a lot of fun. In the early to mid 90's, KSHE decided to open up a restaurant in Union Station called "KSHE's Real Rock Cafe" I put together the background music (on 6 hour VHS tapes!!) and did the videos from Laserdisc using a video switcher (that I never got reimbursed for). I put together rock videos and movies. uhh..I forgot about the nude shot in "Gimme Shelter" and the rape scene in "The Wall". It was okay until a customer complained. It was a great idea, but there were two problems. The service was not good and neither was the food. The people from The Hard Rock Cafe didn't think too highly of the place and before we knew it, it was gone. The place was rehabbed and it is now the studios for the cluster in the Powerhouse. It was a fun place to take clients, mistresses and a generally fine place to get hammered. I interviewed KISS there and John Entwhistle and Jackyl played there live. Hey, we owned the world at that time and it was a fine idea but it didn't last.
Turn into this?
It's easy. Drugs. Thank God I woke up when I did. God bless you, Whitney. May you have the strength to face your demons and overcome them.
How I use to love science class. This stuff intrigues me to no end. Why didn't I become a scientist or a science teacher? These are views of the total eclipse of the sun over Ghana, Africa, March 29, 2006. God is one heck of an engineer, huh? Notice the solar flares in picture number two. When I die, I want to see one up close. Can we do that, God?
This is at the intersection of Interstates 57 and 70 in Effingham Illinois. It is quite incredible to round a corner and see this in front of you. Effingham? How about some effing potatoes with that?
As I saddle up to the computer today, I had a dream last night about the KSHE "Curse". Many years ago, when I was there I was discussing with someone about how people who left KSHE never really seemed to get their feet under them after they left. I left in 1998 to help build a start up station called 97FM The Rock! on a frequency no one wanted. It seemed the right time to go. The guy I worked for never really liked me and I could tell he was starting to make his feelings known. So, after much deliberation with family (my dughter was 9 at the time and she started crying about me leaving the "pig" station), we decided that the money was right and so was the timing. After having a great two years, KSHE bought The Rock, shut it off and showed me the door. My life has spiraled downhill ever since. After a year at Smooth Jazz (which I did enjoy), I got deathly ill, went to KC, got fired, and have been wandering around the desert since. I am a Christian man, and although I don't believe in "curses", there may be something to this one. If anyone has a remedy for "curses", please let me know. I really could use some help.
In praise of this album from the group Toto. 
It was great and for awhile, we kicked everyone's ass until an FM station in town figured out what we were doing and signed on. We were done. Anyway, I got the album from the record guy, took it home and fell in love. I think every track is strong but my favorite tune on the LP is without a doubt "Georgy Porgy". God, what a song to fill the dance floor with. I was blown away by the entire thing. "Girl Goodbye", "Rockmaker","You Supply The Love" ande the classic "Hold The Line". I will never forget being 22 again; still in love with radio and still in love with life.
Washington got screwed. It seems to me that the officiating has become second rate in the tournament. I am NOT one of those conspiracy guys, really. With that being said,it really looked like that the officials wanted UConn to win last night. Two VERY questionable calls went against Washington in the waning moments of the game. And the good news.... DUKE IS HISTORY!
Nice job, Coach K. Each tournament features some shilling from you whether it's a recruiting spot for American Express or Chevy talking about trust, but for the second year "the most talented team in the nation" gets bounced in the Sweet 16. How joyous. My team (Witchita State) looked horrible last night and I guess the Raley family is now rooting for George Mason or LSU to take it all. Now that Gonzaga is gone (more questionable officiating),it's a wide open deal. It's madness and it's heartbreaking and fun at the same time.
talk about "trust" one more time while shilling for Chevy or those two Applebee clowns again, I'm gonna hurl.
It looks like I picked the wrong year to quit drinking...
A fine ballot stuffing endeavor.
I couldn't sleep last night (so what else is new?) and I got to thinking about what happens after you die. Where so you go? Do you go to heaven if you believe in the teachings of Jesus Christ? That's what the mystery of faith is about. But, what is in heaven? Your ancestors? Is there a heaven for Buddhists? Muslims? Could there be a chance to stand in front of God and say "Dear Lord, if you could just give me one chance to live one part of my life over again, I would do it differently"? If given the chance, where in your life would you like to go to change one thing? I think I know. High school. Instead of floating through, I would have paid more attention, gotten that degree and probably be teaching by now, hopefully with a Masters from somewhere. I also would wonder if God would allow us to go "exploring" through the universe. What's out there beyond Pluto or whatever the new planet is named? Are there more like us? Questions...questions.
