THE PASSION IS A GODDAMN-GOOD FILM

I Give it Two Arms Up!


By: John Dardenne



Across the world audiences leaving Mel Gibson's new film The Passion of the Christ could agree on one thing: "Braveheart was good." Rabbi Ira Weinstein said, "I liked the part at the end when he yelled 'Freedom!'"

Mel Gibson claims his film The Passion is an accurate portrayal of the Jews and the Romans during the final hours of Jesus Christ’s life. Well I took a year of Latin and learned about the Romans and all the crazy orgies they had. But I didn’t see any orgies in your film, Mr. Gibson. Romans had orgies; that's for sure. Rrrreally accurate!

Additionally, the film is shot entirely in Latin and Aramaic for historical accuracy. The only English speaker is the comic relief beggar named "Lil' Lazaras" played by Joe Pesci. During the scourging he makes such quips as "Ooh, look out! Zoinks! Glad I'm not the Messiah. That's gotta hurt! Oh, no, I have leprosy again." This reporter almost crapped his pants after that sequence.

A controversial line of dialogue directly implicating the Jews as the "crucifier of Christ" and, therefore a "cursed" race was taken out of the movie in a last minute decision which has led many Jews to reject Moses and adopt a new covenant with The Passion's film editor, John Wright. Wright, described by friends as the soft-spoken Abraham-type, lives in Waco, Texas and is circumcised.




Interestingly enough, the role of Jesus Christ was originally given to Will Smith, but he was later fired when Mel Gibson decided he was "too Jewish."






To dispel rumors that he blames the Jews for killing Jesus, Gibson has a cameo in the movie as a centurion who pounds a nail in Jesus's right palm. Playing the nearly-retired left centurion is Danny Glover who is "Getting too old for this."


Pope John Paul II was sent an advanced copy of the movie before it reached theaters. Fearing that the intensely violent movie could give the frail Catholic leader a heart attack, assistants showed the Pope Bill and Ted's Excellence Adventure instead. During the end credits, the Pope called Gibson and assured him “It is, as it was! Wyld Stalyons Rule!"



During the production of the Passion, James Caviezel, the actor playing Jesus, was struck by lightening. Many fans of Independence Day interpret this as a message from God that Will Smith is His son.




Take it from me, this movie is not going to be forgotten during the awards season. You heard it here first, The Passion is a shoe-in for the MTV Movie Award for Best Crucifixion. Blood, blood, blood. Blood always wins this category and Mel Gibson knows it.










I smell a sequel!!!!!




SPOILERS AHEAD:

Christ dies at the end; then he is resurrected. Rosebud is his sled.

Michael Moore spoke to a crowd of thousands at USC. 

Lots of people. 

I protested

Kind of. 

Live CNN Coverage 

A journey to the front. 


First ammendment protection. 

You can almost see sack. Well, maybe not almost. (Wink, wink.) HELLO! 

Moore stopped his speech and acknowledged the sign. 


He's much more handsome in person! 


Reverse angle 

We learned that WE ARE THE FUTURE... 

COULD I TROUBLE YOU FOR SOME INTERCOURSE?



By: John Dardenne

My door is open, my roommate is sleeping, what more do you women want? Do you want me to put a sign up? I know you have a boyfriend and that’s great but he’s not here, and it's your fault you didn’t have the balls to dump him at graduation. (High five) I know, I’m glad someone said it too. I have a message for all you Girls of USC: I need to get laid.

Let me set the stage. In contemporary society, we protest the war in Iraq and the tyranny of Ralph’s but we forget to protest the war all around us. The war to get Freshmen laid. And my friends, the enemy of abstinence is winning. Our generals tell us that the only way to victory is through coitus, and by Golly, coitus is what we’ll do because we are a country of free trade, free market, and free love. And, remember, if we don’t copulate, the communists win.


To clarify-- this is not a desperate plea, or a virgin’s cry for help. I am NOT asking for you to love me. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t. What you are reading (if you have a vagina) is a call to action. It is a summons to assuage the suffering of myself and all those other goofy, yet mystically attractive Freshmen, who sleep alone. Like Uncle Sam, “We want YOU!” Be it Freshman, Senior, or impressionable high schooler visiting the campus, I implore you to grab the nearest Freshmen guy and turn the tide of this war. And I hope and pray that this article is printed in Braille to reach out to my usual dating pool: BLIND WOMEN.



Guys- some advice: when it does happen with that special lady, make sure you properly “Sexile” your roommate. You see every dorm has a secret sign to tell your roommate that you’re hooking up. When the roommate sees the special marking on the door, he or she knows not to walk in the room. True, our signal hasn’t been “utilized” yet, but in theory it’s pretty cool. If I’m about to hook up with some passed out girl, I simply go to the door and put a little warm lamb’s blood over the top frame. Then my roomie knows that he’s a first born and will die tonight. Everybody wins. Thanks, Angel of Death!





Why do I talk about sex? Because I love women. I love the way they eat, the way they talk, the way they walk. I love the way they fart. It smells bad. I love the way they capture my imagination with a smile. Women are the ying to my yang; the blood in my veins. They are the clothespin to my nipple. If this sounds too good to be true, don't fret; I've included my contact information.

Ladies, I commend you for reading this far. As you ponder whether or not to call me, remember we live in a world rife with injustice. Millions are afflicted with poverty and are victims of genocide. Random acts of violence and terrorism have created ubiquitous fear in our society. The world we inhabit is being destroyed day after day by global warming and exhaustion of our nonrenewable resources will ruin the lives of future generations.........But what can you do about all these things? Have sex with me. Together, we can change the world.

dardenne@usc.edu

EVK ICE CREAM

The following article was written in 2003 about the EVK Dining Facility at USC. It's based on a true story when I was a freshman and lived in the Pardee Tower Dormitory.

It’s 9pm and the front lines are quiet, almost too quiet. I am embedded with the 5th Floor Division of Pardee Bravo company and I am reminded by my military escort that “things are not always as they appear.” Suddenly, without warning, a soldier camouflaged in FUCLA apparel darts towards the EVK ice cream bin. Before the dust subsides, he has liberated four innocent fudge bars from the ruthless captivity of an oppressive cooling dictator. “Operation Ice-Cream-i Freedom:” a success.

Flash back, one day prior– I was assigned to cover a story on Freshmen abuse of ice cream privileges at the dining facility Everybody’s Kitchen, better known to students as, “where I found my pet rat.” Allegedly students were taking more than one ice cream bar at a time and building a cache of deserts in their mini-refrigerators. An irate spokesperson from “Fudge Bars N Such” was heard to whisper under his breath, “Oooooh shit, they can’t do that!” His imaginary friend, Bobo, whispered back, “Make more fudge bars!” Obviously there was more to this story than met the eye.

I decided to bribe the card lady, Mercedes. It was easy, I just let her swipe my card all night long. She told me where the troops were gathering for the next heist. The crew was hesitant to accept me, but I quelled their fears by mugging an old woman (and scored some lipstick in the process). Above the rumbling in their stomachs, they spoke to me.

One pilferer ranted, “Stealing extra ice cream from EVK is the closest thing to an orgasm I’ve had since I got here. It’s a rapture that I indulge on a regular basis. Amidst the fear and excitement one asks himself, ‘Will I get caught, and, more importantly, is this sugary delight worth the effort?’ The answer to that question, my friends, is always, ‘yes.’ Because one day, if we work hard enough, we will recoup our $40,000 dollar tuition payment one blissful chocolate bar at a time.”

Eloquent, impassioned, and reasonable, surely these are not the words of a criminal, but of a revolutionary. “We don’t steal the ice cream, we liberate it,” quipped a masked student whose pockets were leaking chocolate. The ice cream militia explained the situation to me clearly: “Sugar leads to obesity; obesity leads to death; hence, ice cream is a weapon of mass destruction, and as Americans, it is our duty to find and steal the WMD’s from other people.

In regards to ice cream exploitation, President Steven Sample was not asked for comment, but you can imagine he probably would have said something like, “Cows, we need more cows!! Without cows, we’re doomed!” He would hypothetically go on to say, “No, no, no, I’m talking about cows!!”

I decided my time for ice cream had come. I paused to ponder what had led me to the depths of commandment breaking and sugar looting. Then I pulled six bars from the freezer. Suddenly, a firm hand grabbed my arm and a booming voice bellowed, “Sir, one at a time, please.” SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS!!!