The Expendables: A Review

Jason Statham at some point is cheated on by his girlfriend, the lovely Charisma Carpenter. That is pretty much all the plot I could extract from the 103 minute explosion that is The Expendables. But if you are looking for any negative criticism of Sylvester Stallone's valiant tour de brute force, please look elsewhere (read: everywhere.) The film is currently unmatched in it's machismo and masculine vigor, and while Stallone aims to remind us of a time when these traits were lauded, the film is firmly entrenched in the right now.
These men are mercenaries: well trained, heavily armed, elite soldiers of fortune delivering pocket-sized wars to the doorsteps of anyone with the appropriate funds. In the film, the appropriate funds come from Bruce Willis as Mr. Church, fervently cementing the inherent homage to the Die Hard-like sentiment. But more importantly, in the theater the role of the benefactor of explosions is played by us. (I provided a hefty, very modern-day $13 out of the 38 million box office yield(*) simply for something to explode - and oh, DID they explode.) Thus, The Expendables is more than just Stallone, Lundgren, Willis, and Schwarzenegger making a comeback. We the viewer are coming back. And the film does exceptionally well welcoming us back with wide-open, tatted-up, ripped arms.
So now we're all back. But even at the very onset, the film's premise goes even further and asserts that... we've never even left! Mercenaries for hire are all the rage in The Expendables universe; have always been. There's no need for a back story or a weak formation of the team montage like the recent A-Team movie or Inception. You already know who's down. They're sublimely familiar. The roster reads more like your cell phone's contact list then an IMDB page.
The film begins with our friends in a standoff with Somali pirates holding a hostage. The politics of the film are overtly simplistic and tropes and cliches outline the antagonists, sometimes with culturally insensitive hues. Great! In this way, The Expendables poignantly emulates the denial of nuance and subtlety that exists deep within Americana, our media and our arts, whether we admit it or not. It's the post-everything hyper-liberalization of culture that has left an empty, sinking feeling in our stomachs. The Expendables nobly aims to fill that with an explosion or two.
So from Somalia we travel to South America because Bruce Willis said so. Once again very simple politics and developmental dialogue background immaculately choreographed fighting and explosions. There's some banter, some laughs, knives get thrown, red-shirts get shot, someone gets a new tattoo at some point, an airplane shootout, a car chase, a boxing match with Mr. T, Hulk Hogan wins the belt back from the Rock, a double cross, man hugs, some short jokes, an Old Spice guy (no not that one), maybe some objectification of women, and basically everything else that could be manly was allowed to roam free across the celluloid, untethered from logistics or politically correctness (admittedly, I chuckled when I put together that Jet Li's character's name was in fact Ying Yang.)
So untethered of a film, I felt no obligation to place the customary spoiler warnings anywhere in this post. Honestly, you can't spoil something so sweeeeeet. Also, as mentioned before, the plot is somewhat hazy to me and will probably be to you as well, so shrug. And not hazy in that "Shit! Inception blew my mind, bro! Do you think it kept spinning?" sort of way. More like, a 104th minute would have permanently ruined your ability to suspend your disbelief ever again, in turn killing the art of film for you forever, and perhaps actually killing you. Ignore that. Eventually the beautiful Charisma Carpenter saunters back into Jason Statham's life. So don't worry. Be a man, go watch the movie. I'd go again if I could find a theater that seats 20 thousand and got as drunk as I did the first time.

The Beef in Hollywood

Supposedly, when movies suck we, the consumers, know it. We tell our friends. We tweet it. We even go on web-hosted tirades and bash the actors, directors or racial makeup of the flick (sigh, The Last Airbender.) Bad movies cost us precious time, money and brain cells, so it follows then that we have the right to wage war on their existence (post-production) even if that means elevating the film to an undeserved prominence in the meanwhile.

But what happens when an actor or any other willing participant in some multi-million dollar venture in Hollywood degradation joins us in our fervent critiquing? They must consider themselves valiant in someway by pointing out the obvious, that The Last Crusade should have very well been the last crusade. But what the Shia The Beefs of Tinseltown seem to forget, is that it’s their fault - completely, unadulteratedly their fault.

Recently, comedic legend Bill Murray attempted to explain away the live-action Garfield films to GQ magazine. Basically the bulk of his justification rests on Joel Cohen, writer of such gems as 2003’s Cheaper by the Dozen with Steve Martin (I’ll call you a liar if you saw this film and didn’t smile once), not being one of the Coen brothers, who may or may not have won some Oscars and the like and may or may not have a crush on George Clooney. Chances are the interview is simply another example of Murray’s wry humor acrobatics at the expense of a CGI lasagna-loving feline. (There was a sequel, after all.)

Bill won’t be penalized for the remarks in any way. He’s a Ghostbuster after all. Shia will probably get a slap on the wrist and have to wait a little longer for a dog at the yearly Spielberg barbecue. Megan Fox trash talked the Transformers franchise and director and won’t be in the most recent installment, but she’ll bounce back - probably in a wet baby-t of some sort. Some media outlets have even lauded these actors as honest whistle blowers within the vacuous machine of Hollywood big-budget, low-quality film making.

Well, those media outlets may just be misled cogs in that same machine. Actors get paid to act. (The logic is sound, believe me I checked.) Sometimes they get praise and awards for other things - speaking out on the war, showing up at benefit galas, wearing political t-shirts and so on. But in reality, even in these instances they are doing what they get paid for: acting. They are acting like us who care about various causes and actually have things at stake, but are unable to be heard or heeded or showcased because People magazine has limited space on the cover and Katie Holmes-Cruise is kinda tall.

When these actors start acting like consumers that hate something they had previously acted in, in many ways, it forms some sort of space-time paradox that only the Old Spice Guy can adequately explain. But I’ll try: You did it though! You read the lines. You cashed the check. You took the fame. You did it. Now, it’s no good?

Its simple. Movies are movies. Some are good (to some). Some are bad (to others). Ren Stevens’ little brother happens to act in a bunch of them - even more on the horizon. People may very well watch movies because he’s in them, but he’s in them definitely because people watch movies. People pay to watch movies. They consume these movies, digest them and do what they will with these movies, whether that is develop a cult following of mediocrity or publicly chastise its creation. Actors act in them. The problem arises when actors act like consumers that consume, cannibalising themselves, threatening the Hollywierd machine we truthfully love and love to hate. Well not actually threatening the machine, it is Hollywood. They had us wearing funny glasses with red and blue plastic lenses. Ha! And they’re having us do it again, only worse. But maybe its taking some tiny, minuscule hits.

So please Shia, stop hitting yourself. Stop hitting yourself.

Distant Relatives (2010) Album Review

Perhaps we've forgotten about Africa, that often non-geographical homeland of big green, red and black wooden necklaces where an oblong continent or fist may hang. Maybe World Cup tourneys, Somali pirates, civil wars, fictional West Africans either scamming extraterrestrials or threatening Jack Bauer's America have turned Africanism or even Pan- Africanism into fodder for weak NYT editorials or punchlines to an unspoken international joke. Do we even remember Mandela or Selassie or Kinte (you know, Lavar "Kunta" Burton)? If their names appear suspect next to one another, then maybe we have forgotten Africa - Africa as the promise land of a peoples, where return was imminent and liberation and connection to roots were promised.
Nas and Damien Marley purport to have not forgotten with their recent combined tour de African force, Distant Relatives. But their, more so Nasir's, sincerity appear questionable at times. With occasional glimpses into the aforementioned Land of Promise (Track 8), we are immediately introduced to the bleak, disillusioning possibility that Africa is just a continent; Ghana, Nigeria, Mali...simply an assortment of countries. The Marley child, Jr. Gong, allows us to pretend a bit longer, a bit stronger as he relates to his audience as a Jamaican artist with Rastafarian overtones, it follows then, that he possesses a significant (spiritual) connection to the continent emblazoned almost subliminally on the album cover (wait look closely, there it is!). And to Damien I say who am I to question spirituality. *shrug* African pass accepted. But like many before him, he falls victim to the tropes and cliches of poverty and western neglect, without providing anything substantially new to the argument. In fact, you might ask how a millionaire spawned from nepotism, virtually a pop star with locks of irony, even comes to know poverty, distinguish himself from the western funds filling his bank account and financing his lifestyle. Nonetheless, Africa Must Wake up made me rethink putting away my big African chain for a moment, and Patience establishes Marley as a lyrical powerhouse. Learn the patois or you'll miss something.
Nasir Jones, on the other hand - a hand perhaps uncomfortably distant from Marley's, sadly comes short as he's known to do nowadays. It's possible to speak of him so separately from his cohort even though the form of the album aims to emulate almost inseparable hip hop duets like Eric B. & Rakim or Mobb Deep at it's best, Jay-Z and R. Kelly (the second time, not the first) at its worst, because Nas doesn't engage in the back and forth rapport and dually consistent flow necessary to pull something like this off. He simply gets out-shined. He's another millionaire rapping of difficulties too far gone to genuinely recall in rhyme, but doesn't seem to even believe this stuff himself. Truthfully, the match of the two MC's makes sense. They've done it before on Damien Marley's last outing, Welcome to Jamrock (Road to Zion, Track 11), successfully. And to bring a wider audience to a project that might be boxed in as simply reggae, why not invite a legend that comes with at least 50,000 or so hip-hop sales automatically? But Esco, why not show up?
But you know who did show up? K'Naan. If you don't know who he is, Google the man, add a new Pandora station. He provides a bit of legitimacy to this 61 minute 48 second voyage through the diaspora. Even with a shotty flow and squeaky voice, I appreciate his presence. The production value and other features are often impressive as well. Speaking of features, Lil Wayne's on the album somewhere, so watch out! Subpar, overhyped rappers have different affects on people's ears so guard yourself. Weezy automatically subtracts a few thousand bloggers from the already struggling rating for the album... so here we have it: 13k money making bloggers approve :) download link

NEW FEATURE: Questions From Our Readers

Due to the abundance of letters and texts and ims we receive daily, we've decided to address some of the troubles and woes that are on the minds of some of our hypersexed and confused readers and perhaps help us all learn something...or not:

Reply

Edit

Carlito Asks:

Dear 20kblog,

I've been dating this girl for 6 months and it's getting pretty serious. We've been having some great sex...well at least great for me, but I don't think I'm satisfying her. She doesn't seem able to orgasm from sex with me and I don't know what I'm doing wrong. She's able to orgasm with her vibrator and she says its not a big deal, but it's DEFINITELY A BIG DEAL, right? I really care about her and want her to feel good with me. It also just makes me feel like less of a man. Please help me out.

Response:

Ike: You're not smashing

Wes: Secondly, I want to point out Carlito, that 20kblog members do not suffer from this most serious of inflictions...ever. We satisfy all our women, even perhaps some of yours. JK Rowling. But in earnest, I want to respond to your problem with a question: Do you want her to have an orgasm for her or for you?

Ike: If it's for you.... you need to also realize sex can feel good for women even if they don't have an orgasm every time so enough with the pressure.

Wes: Farreal. Women like sex sorta like you like sex. Have you never had your knobs slobbed and not came, yet enjoyed the experience nonetheless? And you can make women orgasm like crazy and still be a douche. Do you wanna be a douche Carlito? Do you? If not, chill. Enjoy your woman. Trust that she's enjoying you, when she tells you she's enjoying you.

Ike: "Knobs slobbed" ... Nice... But, anyways Carlito, if you're trying to make her orgasm for her... then you gotta start swivelin' your hips, dude.

Wes: Not too much though. I have a patent pending on that. But talk to her. Figure out what kind of kinky-disgusting-back-breaking-nasty-Kendra-sextape-type shit she likes and DO that. Your penis might not even be part of the show. You gotta be willing to really work with her and for her to make this work... to make this relationship work.

Ike: Or invest in more batteries.

If you have any questions or concerns you would like us to address here just shoot us an email at 20kblog@gmail.com (f.y.i. we will probably make fun of you.)

OH SNAP! Curtis "Fiddy" Jackson's Dying of Cancer!

Well not really. He's just that great of an actor. Link to the movie that will clearly get an Oscar nom (and by that, I mean this will clearly help a dude named Oscar selling the bootleg on the ave get a sandwich and nom nom it.)
And here's another link begrudgingly to a huffpost article that shows more pics and info about the diet.
I suggest if you are not making money like we making money, partake in the diet.

Album Review: Legal Drug Money (1996)

Once upon a time in the Southeastern region of Queens, New York, boyz were lost. More than a generation removed from a movement filled with symbolic marches and heartfelt speeches, these boyz took the to the streets of their disappointingly unchanged communities—Francis Lewis and Guy R. Brewer, Springfield and Farmers. Fueled by anger, hungry and ignored, they desperately painted their neighborhood with reds and blues and blacks and greens, paisleys and graffiti.
This mural, painted by adept young Afro-Caribbean artisans, exploded out from the intersection of Parsons and Archer to the edges of the Cross Island and the Belt. The images depicted were of violence, crime, sexuality, pain, horror, salvation, spirituality; all interwoven into an aesthetic representing that richly convoluted tapestry of being a economically troubled minority and therefore lost in American society of the nineties.
In 1996, Spigg Nice, Mr. Cheeks, Freaky Tah and Pretty Lou stood tall on top of a soapbox of tape cassettes stacked high on 165th street and Jamaica, on top of WQHT Hot 97.1’s pervasively urban broadcast strength, on top of an American music culture that’d recently embraced hip-hop as a commercially viable product, and together they represented the Lost Boyz by eloquently narrating the mural they’d been embedded within.
Legal Drug Money is often overlooked in the best-of rankings and listings of the casual hip-hop observer. I emphatically wish to argue that this is simply because instead of being most influential, the Lost Boyz were impeccably influenced. Instead of being timeless, Legal Drug Money is excruciatingly 1996 Jamaica, Queens, NY. But importantly, in being so Legal Drug Money expounds upon a narrative of similarly lost peoples of the past, and likewise foreshadows the sentiment of communities that in too many ways remain lost in the decades that follow.
In just under 71 minutes, these four Boyz inspire, educate and meticulously chronicle the lifestyles of those who seek to be rich, albeit shamelessly. Even going as far as to rebuke Mark Wahlberg and those like him who seek to emulate and imitate the stylings of the community that births Lost Boyz:
Some whites talk peace
But they ain't ready for the planet
Marky Mark (Oh, the nineties) be talkin that slang
But he don't even understand it…
[Track 13, Channel Zero]
But in vice and in virtue, in commercialism and in controversy, in stark misogyny and in heart wrenching odes to loves lost, in desperate lifestyle sustaining criminal activity and in prominent recreational drug use, the lyricism and production quality never wavers from its gritty on-point delivery dynamic. Each track carefully balances on an artful tightrope between the angry rebelliousness of the NWA and the conscious optimism of Tribe Called Quest. Just like the hyper-energized chants of Freaky Tah backgrounding almost every song, many find it difficult to digest the content of this album because it’s the party soundtrack…after the kegs been tapped and the cops have started with the citations and handcuffs. I invite all 20,000 of my brothers then to have another helping, or feast for the first time to the sounds of LB’s finest up in 'dis piece.

The Gangs All Here : )

not yet but almost...

The return is coming. Don't worry.

(let the suspense build for a second)

a little bit of this is being made...

There's 20,000 of us simply ignoring the recession.

Random Thought

I was literally 'bout to nap and X-Men: the animated series came on. It was the infamous first episode when my mans Morph [allegedly] gets merked by a sentinel.

There was some debate later on in the episode and the series if anyone was to blame for the incident. I've taken it upon myself to analyze the situation and
I've concluded that it was certainly Cyclop's fault and Wolverine should have definitely tore his ass up. My man morph had no reason to even be on the mission. He serves as merely comic relief and since both Wolverine and Beast were already on board (they're hilarious together, not so much separate) laughs were optimal.
And the fact that they decided to just dip when Morph and Beast got got... what kind of leadership and teamwork is that? If any of my 20k dudes were getting jumped by sentinels, I don't care how many or how big or what generation of sentinel (because they do get crazy), I'm hopping in the fight, powers or no powers.

Imma miss you morph :(

GTA IVth Grade [EDITED]

Is Latarian his Christian name?

{video moved}

I heard this on the radio a week ago, finally caught the video. At least he hangs out with cool kids who smoke cigarettes.

addendum:

Due to popular opinion, simply stealing a video from another blog, forum, or an afternoon youtube hunt will not warrant a post. But since this activity is valuable to the 20k community the video bar has been added.
simply place the html embed code under the last one when you wish to edit the section.
The 6th video poster is allowed to delete the first video to maintain only 5 vids at any given time.
most importantly the dimensions must be altered to fit the smaller side panel.
Width 213: Height:178 (you don't have to remember this you can just look at the other videos ahead of you)
The above changes are honestly for the improvement of the blog.
Any questions... just stop being a bitch.

Thank you,
YoungWes

So Much Swagger, I Give Up!

Recently, we here at 20k have been accused of thieving from other blogs to provide the hot shit for out blog; namely kanye west's blog Fuck that shit! We the hottest blog on the planet and if any other blogs even get their little cookies on any of our 20,000 macbooks or pcs (mostly macs cuz theyre hotter) they should just thank whatever deity they fucking wit because they finally made it! And plus Kanye's blog is whack.

But I digress.

So i was on Kanye's blog a while back and I witnessed the most powerful expression of swag I've ever seen (outside of our 20,000 that perpetually radiate ridiculous levels of swag, braggadocio, style, flavor, funk, hot-as-fuck-ness...etc.) In response to some less than favorable reviews of his new tour, Kanye whil'd out:

Yo, anybody that's not a fan; don't come to my show. For what?! To try and throw ya'll two cents in? Ya'll rated my album shitty and now ya'll come to the show and give it a B+. What's a B+ mean? I'm an extremist. It's either pass or fail! A+ or F-! You know what, fuck you and the whole fucking staff!!! I know I shouldn't dignify this with a comment, but the reviewer threw a jab at all the artists. I just wanna know when was the last time you enjoyed yourself. If you can't have fun and lose yourself at this tour it's a good chance you're a very miserable person. I actually feel sorry for you guys. Your job forces you to not have fun anymore. Grab a drink, holla at some nice girls, and party bitch!! You don't know shit about passion and art. You'll never gain credibility at this rate. You're fucking trash! I make art. You can't rate this. I'm a real person. I'm not a pop star. I don't care about anything but making great art. Never come 2 one of my shows ever again, you're not invited and if you see me...BOW!! This is not pop, it's pop art!

Albeit the arrogance that Kanye is often criticized for is there, but it is laced with the hilarity and truth I personally find endearing. I give up hating on this man and his little blog he has running over there. I in fact like it. This is not to say we aren't iller in every way and that our subject matter doesn't far surpass his. Simply, his blog, his tour, his last album don't completely suck.
And in the same vein as his post, Fuck all the 20kmoneymakingbloggersonthecorner haters!!! Theres way too many letters in our web address to come across us and not already be on our dick. If you don't like a post you're stupid...
go kill yourself because you ain't ever gon ' be nothing!

This is not pop, it's not pop art, it's the Corner baby... and we ain't going no where!!! HAHA

I don't even remember his name but...

he locked up. And once again this isn't a celebrity gossip blog, and theres way more important and entertaining stories out there [ Nick Cannon and Mariah Carey's alleged marriage, Beyonce's pregnancy, Karl Malone conceiving a child way back when he was 18 and the girl was 13], but seeing Gary Dourdan's mugshot tonight really made me smile. Thank you [somewhat racist] drug possession laws.

Madonna again (just cuz)

She's about to be 50 and i'd still smash, going on her 11th studio album and she still hot, moved to England and she still what American pop is about...

This is a lil sample of the album, a track called "A Mile Away". (This is the remix with some random dude. He had a lisp and I feel like thats what the track was missing.)



dl link

Hmm, What is Dick eyeing?

Some may speculate to what that reflection is in his sunglasses but I wanna know what you guys think. Look closely. Let your imagination do some work. Then connect the reflection to the perverted Vice Presidential smile.


source: transworldnews