GETTING TO KNOW YOUR
JOES.
A Look At The
Upcoming Live-Action Film, And
An Educational Introduction Into A Phenomenon Greater Than You Or
Anything You Could Ever Accomplish.
If you're not aware
of GI Joe, chances are, I don't care for you as a person. GI
Joe is of course a certain toy line, cartoon and way of
life from my youth, and pretty much the greatest thing ever
invented that is not beer or fake boobs, and the only
other thing under six inches... besides my
penis, that I looked forward to
handling regularly.
Now, if you were
born in the 90's, holy shit, you missed out. While
you
were forced to play "war" with
gigantic blocky neon-colored guns because your generation was
so retarded it actually shot each other with
real ones, thus wrecking it for yourselves forever, and
being cursed to carry around super-soakers that looked like they
were lifted from a fucking clown car, we, the naive and innocent children
of the 80's, were out in the bush, re-enacting what we
saw on the GI Joe cartoon, using realistic toys, not
getting mistakenly killed by police,
and having a good ol' time making bullet sounds that didn't just
sound like babbling laughter, waging wars that like the cartoon, always culminated in
us PUNCHING EACH OTHER OUT. After all, GI Joe taught us
everything we knew about hand to
non-moving-plastic-hand combat.
That's right, GI Joe
didn't need to shoot ANYONE
, because he was too
busy throwing haymakers, all while fudging the books to
justify their multi-billion dollar budget, no doubt. I mean,
seriously, you try explaining to the tax payers why you need
all those tanks, hydrofoils and planes when for the
last five years, you've just thrown a lot of elbows and never
made contact with any of your enemies, despite the
millions of bullets and missiles you've
needlessly expended.
Anyway, GI Joe was
an
institution for my generation. In fact, I'm not ashamed to admit (OK,
I'm a little ashamed) that I've based my entire adult life on their
teachings. It's true. And it's a life-plan
ANYONE can adhere to. But to explain it to
you, the nay-sayers, in scientific terms you can
clearly understand, I've utilized my obscenely reputable
math skills and calculated a detailed and comprehensive
pie-chart to break it all down for you:
It's that simple. Trust
me.
Now,
imagine my sheer joy and excitement, when I found out that
like Transformers, my other heterosexual life-mate, GI Joe was
being adapted to the big screen. It's true. And apparently,
it's being directed by Steven Sommers, acclaimed director
of...something?
Maybe. I'm sure once you wade through Van Helsing
and all 3000 incarnations of the fucking Mummy, you'll find
something. Hopefully.
And at first, like I did with Michael Bay, I
assumed the worst, as I pictured the bulk of the film
featuring Destro feverishly rebuilding the body of Cobra
Commander, piece by piece, and the whole thing culminating in
a giant Commander head amidst the throws
of a sandstorm
, chasing Duke and the
boys, until finally, the curse is broken! But then I
remembered that Transformers turned out Okay, and I became
confident again. I mean, how can you fuck this up? I mean,
really? All you need is a ragtag group of dudes in
ridiculous nonsensical mismatching clothing, all fighting
identical masked blue assholes who somehow always safely
emerge from a fireball, parachute intact. It's not rocket
science. Because, if it was, Commander would have no doubt
used it to build a machine that creates high powered winds
instead of, I don't know, a fucking nuclear bomb. That's
just how he rolls. If Cobra was behind 9/11, instead of flying
planes into the World Trade Center, Cobra would have just
carved Commander's face into the side of the building with a
comically huge diamond-tipped laser. I'm telling
you.
But
that all said, I have to admit, thus far, the casting of this
film has been a little questionable. Almost as questionable as
the time I deduced that trained stage thespian
Sir Ben Kingsley was the ONLY
man with enough dignity, poise and grace to pull off a
live-action version of Thundercat PANTHRO. I mean, come
on. Anyone can portray a non-violent pacifist on a hunger strike,
but can just any random asshole convince me that
the damaged SAMOFLANGE can be
repaired? I think not.
But
that said, thus far, this film reads like a casting call
for the fucking O.C. (The G.I.
JO.C.?), featuring a who's who of perfect,
pretty little people, all under 25. Holy shit, I think I might
use *my own* Kung Fu grip to open-hand-chop my TV if the bulk
of the movie sees a fucking CW Network-like presentation
of Duke in an uneasy blossoming relationship with
Scarlett for 2 fucking hours.
Scarlett: "Duke, I love you. But I'm
just not ready for intercourse. I just need
time!"
Duke: "I love you.
I'll wait."
Scarlett: "Oh, Duke. I Love you too!
Let's just cuddle and hold each other
for awhile!"
Duke: "Umm, sure, I guess so." (Whilst
secretly wondering if he puts enough grease in there, if his
penis will fit inside his gun barrel).
Dear
God.
Anyway,
that said, my big problem is not the fact that perpetual guido
funboys like Channing
Tatum are cast as fucking DUKE, Sienna
Miller is Baroness, and the youngest son from "3rd Rock From
The Sun" is Cobra Commander (What, the gay brother from
Roseanne wasn't available?), all while MARLON WAYANS is
just cast, period (If there was ever a time to rescind that
none gets shot rule, this is it), it's that the bulk of these
plastic little people are all in their early 20's. And I
ask, HOW IN THE FUCK CAN YOU BE A HIGHLY TRAINED
ANYTHING AT 22? This is America's err,
wherever's HIGHLY TRAINED SPECIAL MISSION
FORCE. It's not an group of misunderstood urban teenagers that, by god,
just want to dance to hip-hop or race their fucking Japenese drag
cars. Holy fuck. I'm begging Hollywood, PLEASE
STOP CASTING YOUNG PEOPLE FOR EVERYTHING .
Fucking Hollywood is turning into a real life version of
Logan's Run. I mean, seriously. A guy like Duke, who leads
the entire platoon, is supposed to have years and years of
battle experience under his (grenade)belt. He's
a war veteran. He shouldn't look like he just got
his fucking driver's permit, and is hoping tonight's the
night his "best girl" gives him the green-light. Jesus
Christ.
So, ya.
That's my only issue. Seeing clean-cut, young, good-looking
people running around pretending to be elite soldiers, with
big teeth and coiffed hair, and six-packs to make Jane
Q. Baldcrotch at 14 feel a tingling in her special
purpose. It's stupid and unrealistic. The whole movie isn't
going to bomb because a group of fledgling imbecilic teenagers
see a dude who's 38 playing Duke, and instead just go
back to watching Step Up, or Step Off or whatever the
fuck it's called. "I'm white, sure! But I can dance as
good as any of those black guys! Look at me go! I'm
Dancin'! It's as if my legs are independent from my
body!"
Seriously. I don't know a dude under 25 who's not
completely fucking retarded, and I'm supposed to suspend
disbelief that the fucking Alpha Beta Joe Fraternity
here is off stopping international tyranny, and that an
entire billion dollar Terrorist cell is run by a skinny
awkward teenager with a girl's haircut? Come on.
The
only other "minor" issue here is that Joe is no longer a
"Real American Hero", because producers realized that hey,
marketing gun-toting, flag-waving Americans in certain markets
might not be the best idea. So, ya, that's
forgivable. But, that said, " GI JOE" now stands for
"Global Integrated Joint Operating Entity", (I'm gonna have to
operate a lot of joints myself before that
name starts sounding like a fucking good
idea) and was rumored to be based out of Brussels.
BRUSSELS. Hot-bed of heroism! Ahem. My dream of them
being based out of Israel, so a live action depiction of
GI Jew has now been
quashed...
Their Tanks stop on a dime! Then pick them up
and never spend them!
Anyway,
turns out, though, that the Brussels rumor was just that. A
Rumor. As was the rumor that Cobra wouldn't even be involved,
instead seeing the Joe's battle a --wait for
it-- MUSLIM TERRORIST THREAT~! Hey,
we're in the midst of a similar battle in real life! It feels
so relevant and familiar to me because it's happening and
it's justified and Fuck. So, ya, sleep easy,
because IT WILL BE GI JOE Vs.
Cobra for sure, and all your favorites ARE
indeed appearing. Destro. Zartan. Big Lob. Ok, maybe not
Big Lob. But holy shit, VINDICATION. This
movie now has the potential to kick all kinds of ass, and
not shoot anyone, because that'd be absurd. I mean, they even
leaked an awesome photo of Ray Park, who's going against type
to play a deadly, agile, martial-arts trained silent guy
in SNAKE
EYES, and got it right! Holy
shit. And hey, when you get past the part where his
super-secret, sacred clan tattoo is painted on his
Plexiglas muscle-suit, it's pretty fucking impressive. That
IS the Snake Eyes I remember. I'm a
happy camper. Now, all they have to do is capture the majestic
splendor that is Quick Kick, and my life will be complete. Even
if the bulk of these casted Joe's were watching
Teletubbies the last time the toys were actually
available.
And
speaking of toys, I thought I'd do you a further solid, and
choose several completely random Joe's, and give you the low
down, if only to get you in the mood for next Summer's
Sommer's Joe-stravaganza.
However, while researching the toys and file-cards,
some less-than desirable characters came flooding back,
and I decided to change gears. Instead, I've decided to
list some of Joe's most forgettable/ridiculous characters
for your amusement, and EDUCATION.
Seriously. You can take your equations and biology and
shove them up Joe's nonexistent smooth plastic ass,
because this is shit YOU CAN
ACTUALLY USE. I'm telling you.
FORGOTTEN JOES.
The Plight Of Figures That Sucked And/Or Were
Ridiculous, But For Whom We Loved Anyway, Because We're Stupid
And Naive And Thought Buying The Exact Same Toys You Already
Owned, Only Now Painted in TIGER STRIPES Was Like The
Coolest Shit Ever, And Holy Shit, Is This A Long
Column Title:
BAZOOKA~!
What the fuck is Armor School?
All I know was, at 18, I was *almost* accepted, but
unfortunately, I didn't have the grades in Kevlar. I
learned the hard way that you can only coast through
high school on Chain Mail for so long...
Seriously though, when I was kid,
I loved Bazooka. I really did. It wasn't until I was older
that I realized one sad truth. In the midst of battle, Bazooka
was good for like one shot. And that's it. Once he shoots that
one missile, he's just some unarmed douchebag in a helmet
and the same ill-fitting football jersey your Dad wears on
weekends when all his clean clothes are in the hamper. I feel
bad for the guy. He's totally typecast.
Bazooka: "Come on guys! I can shoot
the guns, too! I'm more than just a Bazooka! Give me
a chance!"
Other
Joes: "Shut the fuck up, Bazooka."
SCI-FI~!
Being the only Joe to have a laser rifle gives you
a definite advantage as a sniper. Wearing neon-green, full-body coveralls
and a helmet that looks like one
big glowing Xmas Ornament, all while trying to be incognito,
mind you... umm, not so much. In fact, I think the
Tree at Rockefeller Center is more subtle
than this motherfucker. You might as well
paint a big bull's eye on your chest there, pal, because, if Cobra could
actually shoot, they'd have been picked off your effervescent
glowing green ass the first day. Jesus, what's
next, a fucking Ninja in a hound's-tooth
jacket and golf shorts?
SNOW
JOB~!
Ah, poor Snow Job. When you
discount the obvious unfortunate rhyming connotation of his
chosen pseudonym, (only his unknown brother Rock Sucker
truly knows his pain) Snow Job, like Alpine, Dusty & other
Joe's of a certain geographical ilk, his collective
usefulness is very limited. Yet, the motherfucker suits
up in his fucking giant balaclava and
snowsuit everyday anyway, hoping today will FINALLY be
the day he gets that big call up and his existence is
vindicated. Snow Job is clearly the Aqua Man of GI
Joe. I really feel for the guy. I mean, how often do
Terrorists ever unfurl their evil plots on fucking Ski Hills?
Your heart goes out to the guy.
Duke:
"Ok, Joes, let's get ready to roll out. We've just
learned Cobra Commander has created a weather machine capable
of creating Earthquakes!"
Snow
Job: "Should I bring my skis?"
Duke:
"Absolutely! We'll definitely need them! There's tons of
snow there!"
Snow
Job: "YES! FINALLY!!!!"
Duke: "Haha, I'm
just fucking with ya. It's in the Desert. You can
stay behind and watch the base."
Snow
Job: *sniffle*
Stupid Snow Job.
CHUCKLES~!
Ah, good Ol' Chuckles. GI Joe's
most forgotten action figure. You see, Chuckles was
GI JOE's undercover agent. Kind of like Zartan, only you know,
terrible. I mean he didn't even come with a mask
like Zartan (which he wore with his already identifiable
hood and glowing chest plate, but hey, whatever...). So, in
that regard, Chuckles was in essence useless. So much so,
that he never ever had one speaking role in the cartoon. But
yet, his file-card paints him as this crafty undercover marvel
that no one sees coming. Huh. I can see how he effortlessly blends in and
doesn't draw attention to himself with that horrendously
loud Hawaiian shirt, and completely visible GUN
BELT. Ya, no one's going to suspect a thing there, Chuckles. Visibly armed dudes
are totally unassuming. Way to stay on the down-low.
Although, maybe he truly is
a MASTER OF SUBTERFUGE after all. Because
I'll be damned if he isn't the spitting image of former
Entertainment Tonight co-host and Piano song-meister John
Tesh~! Tell me I'm wrong:
Perhaps he lulls Cobra into a
false sense of security through his easy listening
music? I know if I was a terrorist, I'd surrender
immediately, and accept my ultimate demise for crimes
against humanity in the face of a possible Tesh
song-medley. Because, you wanna talk about crimes against
humanity! Ahem.
THE
FRIDGE~!
The Fridge is of course
former Chicago Bear William "The Refrigerator" Perry, who
had a special GI Joe figure made of him sometime in 1986,
despite never appearing in the cartoon. What makes this so
absurd is that his *official* "military position" is
"physical training". That's rich. You know, like all the food
he had to consume to be basically built like a giant bulk
bag of potatoes filled entirely with butter and oil. I
can just imagine the training camp:
Fridge: "Ok, trainees. Listen up!
Here's all you need to know to be in the peak of
physical condition!"
Trainees: "Ay, Ay, Sir!"
Fridge: "Ya, just kinda be the
complete opposite of me."
Trainees: "Ay, A--Wait.
What?"
Fridge: "Seriously. I'm
ridiculous. I had a heart attack just putting on my military
issued umm, Football jersey today. I
don't even know why I'm here."
Trainees: "Umm, Yo Joe?"
Fridge: "Ya, Whatever.
Someone dial
911"
I mean, though, come on. Taking
fitness advice from this guy would be like taking beauty tips
from fucking F. Murray
Abraham. Holy shit. The only way this guy
would have been ANY
use to the Joe's is if
someone put a harness on him and dangled a giant meatball
sub in front of his face. Then you'd just tell him the
mustard's in the Terrordrome. He'd run right through the
wall, killing every Crimson guard on the other side. You'd
at least save yourself the ammunition, that way. Instead of, you
know, purposely missing all your targets...
SHIPWRECK~!
I feel bad about this one,
because I loved the guy on the cartoon, but come on.
Seriously. His only weapon is a gun that hasn't been
fucking used in 200 years. Surely, you can put aside some
of that TIGER FORCE money and buy this guy a pistol that
wasn't last used in the American Revolution.
Seriously. Plus, what's with the giant fucking Anchor that he carries around for
no reason?...
But hey, by chance, whilst
fighting a terrorist threat you somehow find yourself
aimlessly floating about in a makeshift boat, and
suddenly find the need to become stationary, you'll be
kicking yourself that you didn't invite Shipwreck along for
the ride. He could have saved your ass a lot of trouble. Plus,
if you get hungry you can always eat that bird.
And on that note, am I the only one
somehow creeped out by the seemingly dead parrot laying on its side incased
in plastic in that package? "Polly want a
casket?"
OUTBACK~!
Just in case you couldn't figure
it out by the subtle "SURVIVAL" written on his
1800's undershirt, Outback was GI JOE's resident
"survival expert" (complete with WAR READY..umm,
CUMBERSOME GIANT BACK PACK!). Although, at first glance
he looks more like a stray homeless guy that wandered into The
Pit, stole some clothes, some food, and just told everyone he
was a "survival expert" when he was caught
red-handed filling his pockets with mashed potatoes.
Although, he likely truly was a survival expert!
It's pretty tough jumping from boxcar to boxcar with a
shopping-cart filled with tin cans, and not only not
dying, but not spilling any of them, either! He has so
much knowledge to pass down to the new recruits! Knowledge
like the very best park benches to sleep under, which
dumpster's have the best half eaten donuts, and how to
fake a doctor's script so to get so high you overdose and die
in your sleep.
I was just disappointed
that homeless Outback didn't come with an accessory flask of
Aqua Velva aftershave, for those cold nights on the trails,
and a walking cane when he inevitably goes blind from
ingesting it. Yo Joe.
BUDO~!
Not to knock the
ancient ways of the Samurai, but I don't care how
adept you fucking are at the "art of the live blade", you try
running into battle armed only with a sword and see how long
your ass lasts. What, the GI Joe on the horse with a giant
javelin busy this week? Holy shit. There's a reason why
these archaic motherfuckers became extinct
eventually.
BARBECUE~!
I'm not trying to knock this
guy's ability as a firefighter, but when all your buddies
name you BARBECUE, I don't think that's
saying too much about your current skill-level when it
comes to your job. Something tells me he may have dropped the
ball a few times. His uncle Malpractice, who's a doctor, can
probably tell you all about it.
But that's not even my favorite
aspect of Barbecue. It's his file-card, where somehow, the
Joe's have put over his ability to, and I quote,
"wrap his lips completely around the bottom of a quart
coke bottle." How this is a skill that should be
commended is beyond me. Although, the only two women in the
field (Scarlett and Lady Jaye) are being boned by the two
commanding officers, so that doesn't exactly leave too
many romantic possibilities for the remaining Joe's . Poor
bastard. HE PUTS OUT
THE RAGING FIRES... IN THEIR LOINS.
Speaking of the aforementioned
Scarlett, she was a pretty integral part of the Joe's, but
couldn't someone have gotten her an actual relevant
weapon?...
Who the fuck goes to War with a
CROSS BOW? What is this, the fucking 1300's?
What, a giant cauldron of hot oil that you dump over the
side of a castle wall not fit in the package? Dear
god.
KEEL-HAUL~!
There's nothing really wrong with
this Joe, but Keel Haul gets special mention just because he
looks so much like Bruce Campbell. Plus, the Navy's riding a
little fast & loose with the dress code there, aren't
they? Which branch of the military actually let's a guy
wear his shirt like a fucking 1970's hustler or porn
star? I can just picture him secretly ram-rodding Covergirl on
the carrier behind the pile of Oil Drums, before retreating
to the Captain's quarters where he ravages her under a
giant twirling mirrored ball. "Turn over! It's time to swab
the poop deck, baby!".
DR.
MINDBENDER~!
Dr. Mindbender is actually a
pretty cool character when you get down to it, but you'd think
with all the money Cobra wastes on fusing their tanks with
Pythons, that maybe, just maybe, somewhere along the line,
they'd have bought this poor bastard a shirt. In my
estimation, it's never a good idea to ever frequent a
half-naked doctor, despite what porn will tell you.
That said, all I know is, I'd
LOVE to put "MASTER OF MIND CONTROL" on my
resumé. That's got management material written all over
it. And if not? Well, if I'm truly as adept at it as I've
claimed, they'll change their tune soon
enough!
But in the good doctor's defense,
it's not like he had much of a choice but to end up
exploiting the brain. The guy's last name is MINDBENDER~! It's
a family tradition! Passed down generations from his immigrant
grandfather, Jebediah Mindbender. Whom I can only assume also
passed down that sweet monocle. Only Dr. Mindbender could pull
off wearing no shirt and a monocle. It's like he's part
porn star, part aristocrat, and part 1800's carnival
strongman. It's kind of like if Mr. Peanut somehow
procreated with Phineas from Family Guy. It's
a tough look to pull off, but he somehow makes it
work. I can just picture
him coming up with new potential DNA (that he likely donated
himself if his disturbing shirtlessness is any indication) for
Sepentor, all while peddling back and forth on a unicycle,
juggling. It's awesome. COBRRRRRAAAA!
Ok, that's it. I'm sure there's
more useless Joe's out there, like say Crazy Legs.
Seriously, there's no arguing with his legs! They've
clearly lost their mind~!, but I think I've reached my
quota of reading little tiny file-cards for today. Clearly,
you're more learned for having read this. I'm all about
spreading the knowledge. And now you know. And knowing is
half the battle. The other half is shooting. They're still
working on that one. It's also probably the reason why after
25 years they're still fighting the exact same
assholes...
Credit to the
file-card and toy scans go to Yojoe.com. An
awesome site for collectors, or 31 year old man-children who
just wrote 15 word pages about their toys.
Sean Carless is a man of
many hats. And he wears those hats to
cover an ever-increasing bald spot.
Sean's various scribblings have been read at Live Audio
Wrestling , 411 Mania, Wrestlecrap, Honky Tonk
Man.com, The Toronto Star.com, and Lethal Wrestling. He has
also cured AIDS.
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