I’m ashamed by some of the things white people used to like. Slavery. Those retarded Buttafuoco parachute pants douchebags would wear at the gym. Andrew Dice Clay. Almost makes me want to renounce my whitezenship.
Almost. I'm no fool.
I am having trouble coming up with reasons why we liked the “Dice man,” however. Was it his profane and shocking nursery rhyme-altering style? The way he lit those awesome cigarettes? His less-than-timely Travolta imitation? The fact that he had his tongue up that chick’s ass?
It’s all a complete mystery ... and yet, 13 film credits. Ponder that for a while, you, still tapping away at that screenplay.
Oh, wait. I get it know. It was right there in front of my face the whole time. It’s the half Elvis, half Jew-thing. Put that in a leather jacket and BANG--charming and irresistible! Makes perfect sense now ... Little Boy Blue; he needed the money. Of course.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
9. Andrew Dice Clay
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1 comment:
Well first of all you needed to be smart enough to "get the joke." The Diceman, just like Andy Kaufman, Sam Kinison and Rodney Dangerfield may be an aquired taste for some people; however, unless you are a feminist of just "a little light in the shoes"... you probably won't get the joke.
Whada ya gonna do?
But alas! there are still Joan Baez concerts and 'swatch parties' for those with tender sensibilities. So I guess there is still balance in the universe.
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