Nude Man Tased at Coachella

This dude pulled a big no-no with his...ahem..."no-no."

He was a naked wizard that wanted nothing to do but get naked and bust out his "wand." But alas, he got naked, resisted the kind uniformed officers' requests to put his robe back on, and got electrified out of it. It all happened at Coachella this past weekend. Notice about 2 minutes into the vid that the cop in the far end puts on gloves. He knew he was about to get close to some male dangle.

Caution: gratiutous brain hanging. NSFW:

Naked Wizard Tased By Reality from Tracy Anderson on Vimeo.

Cooter Shooter: Mmmm. Randomness.

[Warming Glow] Introducing...my lunch!

Ok, I am Asian. But not the Korean Asian that just eats anything on four legs and has an adorable look on its face before getting devoured. With that said, look at the adorable puppy. Look at it. Look at it. Doesn't he look deliciously adorable with relish on his back?

Car Chase with Benny Hill Music:

I agree with most of my fellow internet perverts geeks that anything is best with Benny Hill in the background. Of course, this applies to broadcasted murder, sex, snuff films, and, you guessed right, Two Girls in a Cup (WTF is my fixation with that?)

Dayman! Fighter of the Nightman!

WhyTF was I not told about this performance? On April 18, the guys from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia did a live theatrical version of "The Nightman Cometh" from its season four finale. In the ep, Charlie, who I think is the Most Valuable Character in the whole series, makes a musical about his insane, inhalant-induced song "Dayman."

Essentially, you have to be an educated stoner to love this show full of sarcasm and biting fravolity all over the place.

Again, though, WHY THE FUCK wasn't I told about the live show? I totally had nothing to do that night. I'm only a car ride away from L.A. F*CK!

What Happens When Ice-T Needs Money:

Ok. I could live with Ice-T doing Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. Primetime TV cop is a role not to sneeze at. But the man who once wanted to kill all cops is providing the voice of a talking mule. This trailer for Tommy and the Cool Mule should just provide enough fodder and criteria to list it on the IMDB Bottom 100.

Oh look! It's Hercules!

Cooter Suiter: One-Liner Thoughts

Ooo. Something new. I've been busy with "work" and watching Chuck on Hulu. Life's not a total waste.

When he's not kicking Mecha-Streisand down with Leonard Maltin and Sidney Poitier, Robert Smith rocks the F' out.

I missed another opportunity at attending Coachella (fourth straight festival in a row while living just mere miles away from the Polo Grounds), thus making my perpetual slingshot into downward oblivion much more realer.

Here's how Coachella went from the people I heard from:

Morrissey is one crazy Nazi vegetarian.

Airborne Toxic Event is nothing to sneeze at.

Despite what you think of him, Paul McCartney is still a Beatle, a legend, and can still rock the F' out.

$10 for a water bottle. WTF?

$7 for a Heineken. WTFFFFF?

Another $10 for a hamburger. That's enough to turn yourself Morrissey, Nazi vegan.

Despite the buildup, the clamor for Saturday's headliners, The Killers, was awfully quiet.

Yes to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

Robert Smith and The Cure can still mystify a crowd of thousands even in the Desert night sky. *pffft* Sorry. I farted.

Other thoughts:

I am growing deeper into the emo look more than anytime in my life. That's what happens when you grow straight hair like mine and have the urge to start an Indie band in the vein of Interpol or My Chemical Romance. Now I want to go into a corner and cut myself.

NBA Playoffs started this weekend. Rockets kicked ass. Celtics, Spurs got their asses kicked. Sweet.

Chuck on NBC looks like it will get canceled...but not if we do something about. Sign the petition, bitch!

I am so over the Twitter craze. This leads me to add Twitter to a list of things that I have been dissuaded from because of Ashton Kutcher. Prick.

Finally got to see Slumdog Millionaire. For some reason, I too have jumped into a vat of shit in order to get somebody's autograph. Whose autograph, you ask? You guessed it. Frank Stallone.

I've never thrown up so much in one weekend than I have this past weekend. On a related note, I expect Gregory Peck to assist in my exorcism this weekend.

In that's all I have. Whatchu got, mang?

Swagger Added to Coachella Fest

You might want to scoot the preggo of the stage. Real men are rapping.

In the "I Don't Care but I Have to Because It's a Big Thing Where I'm From" department, the folks at Coachella Fest, that God-forsaken music festival where drunk and tweeking concertgoers bake under 100+ degree weather in the middle of the California desert, has added British rapper M.I.A. to the Saturday, April 17 bill. She replaces popwreck (yes, I stole a term from Entertainment Weekly) Amy Winehouse who won't make it due to legal activity in Britain. The bill already has headliners The Killers, The Cure (Robert Smith=total pwnage for everybody else), and Paul McCartney (dude, he's still alive?)

I still hold M.I.A. accountable for one of the most awkward performances at the Grammys in recent memory. Of course, she was ready to pop at anytime with a proper Sri Lankan spawn. But she just was out of place with the "Rap Pack" of T.I., Jay-Z, Kanye West, and Lil' Wayne (when did they let rappers run the Grammy's. Darn it, bring back the Osmonds. Those dudes are real thugs.) The black and white polka dots didn't do her justice either. All I saw were three bulges on her torso. I was anticipating a scene like in Alien for one of those bulges.

See, I knew you wouldn't care.