Sometimes life imitates art. Other times, life imitates video game plots. (Yes, those are the only two scenarios, so just accept it and move on) Anyone who had a Super Nintendo or Sega Genesis in the 1990’s is no doubt familiar with the Mortal Kombat franchise and its role in popular culture. The “Bloody Flagship” of violent video games, MK was essentially a trans-dimensional tournament in which the best fighters from various “realms” were selected to do battle. It featured robotic ninjas, skeleton-faced assassins, lizard people, evil centaurs, evil-er cyborg chicks, Chinese Thunder Gods in coolie hats, and even some regular fighters from Earth. One of the original “regular” fighters was a hot shot named: Johnny Cage.

Even though he was the star of such commercial hits as Ninja Mime and The Gist of My Fist, (sigh…those are actual film credits on his resume) Cage was often maligned by critics as being a mere “stuntman” who relied on wires and trick photography rather than his years of martial art study. His sole reason for participating in MK was to prove his critics wrong, which was no easy task considering that it was a SECRET tournament that 99.9% of the world had never heard of. Liu Kang was there to avenge his sensei’s murder. Sonya Blade was there to track down a dangerous criminal. Shang Tsung was there to steal souls. Rayden was there to save earth from destruction. Johnny Cage was there to get his long overdue “props.”  Makes sense…..

Flash forward to present day- actor/martial artist Jason Frank recently signed with an MMA fighting organization. What makes this story particularly interesting is that Frank is best know for playing ‘Tommy- The Green Ranger’ from the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers!!” While I don’t think that Jason Frank has the ego of a Johnny Cage, one can’t help but marvel at the pure balls this guy has to wanna step into the octagon with a bunch of guys just D-Y-I-N-G to kick his ass. Apparently he’s got the credentials (6^th Degree Blackbelt, Founder of four karate schools, Gold Medalist in 2006 Muy Thai tournament, etc), but will that be enough to take on some of these fighters? Will someone finally be able to answer the age-old question, “Can an action star hold his own in a real fight?” and its follow-up, “How many robotic ninjas and lizard people does a man have to decapitate before the world takes him seriously?”  The answer, Johnny Cage…..is blowin’ in the wind.

Ken O’Brien!”

Absolute hilarious collection of clips if you’re a fan of watching Jersey trash with Ditka moustaches groan. Seriously, seriously funny.

Yes, I’m watching this again.

Before he was defaced, Kenny Rogers faces St, Michael. This clip is so close to Mr. Furious’ childhood fantasies, it’s uncanny. All it’s missing is Michael Jackson moonwalking down the court.

“Mr. Peepers…?!”

[Completely random Seinfeld reference + 5]

Fantastic!

I once hallucinated this exact movie after about 36 straight hours and three missed classes worth of Mario Kart playing. Of course, my dream ended up with DK and Daisy on the winner’s platform and DK giving Daisy his…

[rest of hallucination redacted for taste. ed.]

That was weird.

World Science Festival 2009: Bobby McFerrin Demonstrates the Power of the Pentatonic Scale from World Science Festival on Vimeo.

Bobby McPherrin has always been a favorite of ours here at Shambollocks!. Here he treats some scientists to some kick-ass audience participation.

I do the same thing. Except with my remote.

It is appropriate that our Chicago White Sox face ageless knuckleballer Tim Wakefield this evening in Boston. Like Wakefield’s clueless pitches, my hopes for and frustrations with our home nine have darted this way and that over the course of the last 126 games. If you asked at the beginning of the season where I thought we’d be at this point, I’d say .500. And here we are.

So why am I disappointed?

Because we are the most talented team in this division. Because up until this week, the Tigers did everything they could to hand us the lead. Because since June arrived, one week of five wins may have been enough to coast through the rest of the season.

Instead we currently sit 4.5 games back with a golden opportunity to gain a game back as the Red Sox bat in the ninth inning. Tied 2-2. Losing two of three at home to a weak Orioles team engendered very little confidence that we would find success at Fenway. And unfortunately my lack of faith proved accurate. Monday night, Jose and our defense kicked the game away like an empty can. Last night, Ozzie returned Scott Linebrink to the scene of many of his crimes this year. True to his habit, Linebrink let the game get away.

Bye bye season.

Unless. A win tonight would put us 3.5 back. Maybe. Just maybe.

Wakefield’s gives up more extra base hits to righties, and Ozzie’s lineup tonight leans heavily to the right. Thankfully, Rios returns to the line-up and the feel-good story of the season (Pods) sits.

Paulie got the evening off auspiciously with his second triple since 2000, scoring Gordon Bacon. While Paulie ran the bases, I walked to Lance Johnson’s and gave him a hi-five.

Second inning, Floydo gives it back with a bomb by supplement-whore David Ortiz. I used to really like the Red Sox. I don’t anymore. Not ever since they became the American League Cubs. ‘Cept they win. Screw ‘em.

Floydo settles down and starts dealing. The fifth sees Quentin scramble to third after stealing second when Martinez throws the ball into the outfield. Quentin earns a star for punching Youk in the dick. Good on ya, CQ!

Of course, Rios and Ramirez can’t drive him in. No, I don’t sweat Alexei. He’s on my first-place fantasy team.

Ridiculously, Wakefield has thrown 68 of his garbage for strikes. WTF? Why does he need to be Phil Neikro tonight?

Cub killer Alex Gonzalez greets Floydo in the sixth with a homer. D’oh!

PODS!! Picks us up in the eighth. So sorry I asked for you to be benched. So sorry. Tie game. Let’s hurt somebody!

Bacon gets on. Steals second. Sac’d over to third. Come on Jimmy!

Ick. Daniel Bard is a bad man. 99 mph fasties. Bye bye, Jimmy.

And bye bye White Sox. Papi again. Off Pena. Bottom of the 9th.

What we need next year? Some outfield help. Rios ain’t enough. Do NOT want to see Pods starting next year. Dye will be gone. We’ll get Thome back at a discount.

Bring in another DH/bench guy. Adios Dotel. Bring in a bullpen man to help out Thornton. Make Fat Bobby expendable, see what you can get.

And with the rest of baseball, search for a fifth starter.

Do all that, and we’ll see you next October Dodgers.

Bolivian soccer. Two man enter. One man  leave.

The school year is around the corner. Hundreds of thousands of kids wil begin high school over the next two weeks. They will walk gingerly through the giant hallways, hands on bookbag straps, eyes like saucers. A more frightened and awkward group of humans you will rarely see. I’d love to give all these freshmen a copy of Ziggy Stardust when they enter school. Bowie never gets much credit for being much of an open-hearted romantic, but Ziggy was always a very good friend. The story of an alien on earth rings true to aliens in their own bodies.

God, I’m so glad I never have to be a teenager again.

You try it. You like it. You buy it.

This look may not be fit now, but just wait twenty years.

The pop charts did not indicate the band’s popularity with college radio stations here, who played ‘Days’ and ‘Close to Me’ constantly. The groundwork the band laid with these tours would pay off with the release the next year of the singles compilation Standing On a Beach. By the summer of 1986 they would headline Glastonbury. They were one of the biggest bands in the world.

Beach is when I became a big fan. I bought the cassette for my sister Kate for Christmas. I, of course, dubbed a copy right away for myself. Because of the fact that goths were (are) such big Cure fans, you kind of had to keep your appreciation for them under wraps. I wasn’t about to buy any Cure merchandise. Hey, I wanted to survive childhood, alright?

The Cure to this day remain one of my all-time favorite earphone bands. Some bands just sound better in more intimate settings. And the Cure are one.

The Cleveland show I’m sharing was the fifteenth on their North American jaunt. It’s a great set. A lot of critics like to divide the Cure’s career into two phases, as if their pop material should be separate from their early stuff. Bollocks! The band’s music grew toward a more pop sound, but it has always been grounded in a firm appreciation for psychedelia. The Cure love the more experimental British bands of the late ’60s- Floyd, Soft Machine, and King Crimson. You can hear it live. Everything they played that night in Cleveland is of a piece. I can easily hear the same creative force in ‘Days’ as in ‘A Forest’.

I once told a co-worker/DJ that you could build a mash-up career using just Cure bass lines in every mix. You might not think the Cure rock, but they sure do rumble.

Now could somebody please tell Robert Smith he could leave the ’80s. Please. The man is starting to look like Mrs. Haversham.

I don’t like to see animals hurt, but…I would pay to see this live.