Archive for the ‘Movies’ Category

One of the pursuits we Bruces enjoy is sitting in a dark room, next to each other, gazing longingly into the eyes of a monstrously large actor on the theatre screen. Yeah, we knew what you were thinking, so just disavow yourself of such smutty thoughts. Not that we’re against smutty thoughts. Just the contrary, we’re all for them as long they don’t involve each other in each other’s arms. We’ve both got semi-tolerant spouses for that. But we digress.

After having just spent some ill-used time and copious money (Have you seen the price of tickets lately? Gwyneth Paltrow does not deserve that kind of money!) in a movie house, we’ve decided that Hollywood and all the indie film makers have lost their mojo, assuming they had it in the first place. It seems like some of these “directors” have an interesting first film in them but then they move on to making the same damn film over and over again. And don’t get us started on actors. Does Mark Ruffalo have any other characters in his repertoire? (Aside here – both Paltrow and Ruffalo will be in an upcoming film together! Why? Oh, why?)

So what is the solution? Bruce and i have figured it out. Sure it’s a little formulaic, but it’s Hollywood and it will ensure an endless stream of semi-original films at possibly significant savings. Add that to the inevitably higher ticket prices and Hollywood will be able to contribute as much money to any candidate’s campaign they wish to. Just as long as Mark Ruffalo doesn’t run for anything.

After a movie is finished what happens to all the props and sets? That’s a lot of cash tossed away for a film which more than likely will go straight to video. Does anyone know how many films Paul Giamatti has really made? Since more of them go directly to video, it’s immeasurable. We have the solution. No, we won’t out-source films. That would mean too many interminable French and Swedish films, more preposterous Japanese monster films, and features from Alexandra Pelosi.

195042874_e4fa93b1f3   Anyone know which film this is?

We want to repurpose films. By that we mean an entirely new film genre: recombinant film-making or RFM. Why won’t the sets or props from one film work in an another? Hell why can’t stories be combined creating brand new franchises? It would also create previously unimagined audience bases. Here are some ideas we’ve come up. After reading this, feel free to share your ideas for new flicks with us. We might even take it into development.

Forrest Gump: The Awakening – Forrest meets Kate Beckinsale from the Underworld series. Run like hell Forrest!

5686239332_ab36888e27                                      Life is like a nest of vampires in this retelling.

Terminator VS. The Care Bears – He did come back and now’s he’s showing his softer side. Funded in part by Charmin.

The Bourne Legacy: Wanted – Will Hunting. Matt Damon does double duty here and gets to date and then ultimately “take out” Minnie Driver. How do you like them apples?

All the President’s Cranky Old Men – CGI saves the day as Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau are brought back to cinematic life opposite their nearly as old “costars” Redford and Hoffman in this riveting tale of nursing home abuse in DC. Gwyneth Paltrow is featured as Nurse Ratchett in an uncredited cameo.

5406686391_9d5174b497                                      Nurse Ratchett, right?

Something about Harry Potter – Harrison Ford reprieves his Something about Henry role but re-imagined as a very senior and doddering Harry Potter. Happier still, but can’t find his wand and keeps asking who’s Dumbledore. Oscar buzz on this one.

Don Jon DeMarco – Pairing up Johnny Depp with Joseph Gordon Levitt has to be one of the most savvy Hollywood moves in a long time. A CGI (again!) generated Marlon Brando comes back along with a taxidermic Faye Dunaway to deal with problems of a conflicted genius porn addict and his imaginary psychotic friend. Will appeal to several generations of undiscriminating movie goers. Popcorn sales guaranteed to be at record highs.

Back to the Once and Future King – Michael Fox stars in a once-in-a lifetime film, he plays all the roles. In this retelling of an Arthurian fantasy, Fox returns to Camelot only to have his one way back to the present, his DeLorean, broken up and hammered into armor.

4100030094_5fe0b111d9    Just one more time.

The Heart is a Lonely Deer Hunter –  In this brilliant mash-up of Vietnam angst and Carson McCullers novel about a deaf man, John Singer, is envisioned as a cautionary tale about sending handicapped people to war and what occurs when they return. Hayden Christensen plays the role originally portrayed by Robert DeNiro.

The Princess Bride of Frankenstein – A tender but comic retelling of a misanthrope locked in a fairy morality play quoted way too many times in pop culture. Inconceivable!

So, you get the idea. RFM is the wave of the future. We could go on and on about this but we’ve just been contacted about making a musical version of Breaking Bad. See you all later.

Previously: Aside from sounding like the double feature of a Beverly Hills police booking session, I had no idea what the hell she was thinking of. Three Men and a Warrant, maybe. But this? I was really starting to hate bus travel.

And now: I had no stomach for this. Between Ginger’s and Kippy’s attempt at becoming a topic on TMZ, I had a notion to trash every theatre I came across. Maybe the lack of a showcase for their delusions would send them a message that no one was interested, least of all me. But of course, I was wrong again.

Unbelievably, Sling Blade – The Musical found a backer in some former cultural czar, one Zoltan Kovach, from a small country located in the previously Soviet bloc. Turns out Zoltan, a former musician among other things, was a big Billy Bob Thornton fan and thought the musical version would bring new life to the story and Billy Bob’s career. Great, a showbiz type filled with altruism. Yup, we’re in a downward slide towards theatrical mediocrity. And old Z was giving it one more huge shove further into the abyss. I’m sure it’ll be on Netflix before too long. I never saw that one coming.

5107654694_e599b2051d Zoltan performing one of his renowned 22 hour drum solos with his punk-groove band, Snot.

As if that wasn’t enough, Ginger gets a call from her agent, yes, she had an agent! Didn’t see that one coming either. This agent must have absolutely no eye for talent much less one for gender. It appears Ginger was so convincing, to him at least, that he thought he could score some points with the “lady” by finding a producer for this abomination. Seems these three actors were dying to do a film together, but short of making The Expendables: Part 11, nothing was out there for them. Until this producer showed up. Wait for it, wait for it… yes! It’s Zoltan! Talk about a hat trick. What are the chances? About the same as running into Ginger on this friggin’ bus!

6858007097_e7153c5f90 The Expendables – Part 11 tryouts.

Ginger is my brother,  er, sorry, sister, after all. And I do feel a very small sense of familial responsibility for her. Very small. But I don’t want to see her get hurt, so I pull out my iPad and do a little research on Zoltan Kovach. Seems like Zoltan is everything he says he is…and more. Of course! Why wouldn’t he be?

Mr. K’s past is quite a colorful one punctuated by numerous stints in various gulags. I could hardly wait to see his sticker-festooned luggage, “I saw Solzhenitzin!” and the like. Good times, good times. His crimes, or as he was later to describe them as youthful indiscretions (youthful? he was 70 at least!), included but were not limited to faux vodka, bogus Kroger cards (really?), artificial caviar, and the management of the ill-fated Yugo Racing Team. Not to mention his dubious websites promising anything from a veritable fountain of youth to build your own spacecraft. He was anything if not ambitious. Too bad he was a lying, thieving crook…and those were his good traits.

4670256250_fed0d8e2b5One of the Racing Yugo’s in a familiar pit stop.

On the other hand, and you always had to watch out for this as it seems Zoltan’s hands were predisposed to wandering onto one’s body parts and/or into their pockets, he did have one or two redeeming qualities.

The first, well the only redeeming quality, was his ability to score the best Kazakstan weed. It was probably its influence that made these “artistic” endeavors seem worthwhile. What the hell else could it be?

Previously: I had to get off this bus soon or someone would soon find someone with a snow globe buried in their head.

And now: I had the distinct impression that Ginger was about to unleash the kind of idea I was running away from. And damn it, I was right. Where are the days when an drug-induced stupor made you immune to such crap, or at least made you feel that way? I tried to crawl under the seat but the bag from the lady behind was already occupying that space. I tried to feign death, but Ginger saw right through that, threatening to administer mouth-to-mouth if I didn’t cut out the act. I was so screwed.

“So, Fog, don’t you just love it? Isn’t it so cute?”

5318539141_dc8782bdd7            You decide.

Yeah, cute in the way an ebola virus is cute. Cute in the way a festering boil is cute. No, not cute at all. “No, Ginger, it is not cute. Keep it or give it away to someone who cares.

Ginger just sat there and pouted. That wasn’t cute either. It was rather disgusting, truth be told. Her teeth matched her name. But she still was my brother, or sister, whatever.

“Fog… you never cared for me much, did you?”, she bleated. Yes, bleat. She was that kind of a girl or whatever.

“Ginger, I always loved you… in my way. That’s all I’m capable of. Leave it be.”

“But Fog, I do need to talk with you. Meeting you on this bus wasn’t just an accident. It was fate. I need your help,” she bleated once again. This was getting old fast.

“My help? What for? You had the operation. What now, a tummy tuck?” Yeah, you’re right, I wasn’t very sympathetic. I was pissed though.

“Fog, please hear me out. I’ve just got an important gig and I need your guidance,” bleating yet again.

“Jeez… what is it this time? And please, no more bleating, OK?”

2674906984_c74407129a Bleaters. Any resemblance to Ginger is purely accidental.

She started to bleat again, but caught herself mid-bleat. “I, I, I’m sorry. But I’ve got my first job as a casting agent and I’ve got this really big gig. I want to make sure I make the right decisions.”

“And you come to me?” What the hell is wrong with you?” I’m not very hospitable. The last time I helped Ginger out was when she had been arrested for forcing bogus Watchtowers on unsuspecting pilgrims. It wasn’t so much the bail money as it was the fact that I had to he;p her dispose of those copies. She wanted to continue “evangelizing” but the judge had ordered an injunction against it. We had to turn it in to a recycling plant. There was no silver lining to that.

“OK, what is it this time,” I relented. I should have never relented.

“Fog, this is just what I always dreamed about. They’ve asked me to cast the remake of Three Men and a Baby. Isn’t that great? Wait until you hear who I’ve signed. I just want to make sure I didn’t go overboard on this.”

Oh no, Ginger, how could that ever happen? It never crossed my mind. “Spill.”

“This is going to be incredible. Obviously, I couldn’t get the original cast, Ted Danson, Tom Selleck, and Steve Guttenberg. But I did even better.” The bleating had started all over again.

Be still my heart. “OK, Ginger, who? I’m all aquiver.”

“OK, OK, you won’t believe this, but here is the new cast. Nick Nolte, Gary Busey, and, wait for it, Mickey Rourke!”

3625722062_6e9fcfc422 Why not?

Aside from sounding like the double feature of a Beverly Hills police booking session, I had no idea what the hell she was thinking of. Three Men and a Warrant, maybe. But this? I was really starting to hate bus travel.

Previously: Good grief, I wish I had a blade so I could cut myself out of this joke. But, Kippy was serious.

And now: So Kippy really was serious about the Sling Blade musical idea. He went on and on about it for days. His ideas continued to careen between just plain silly to out-and-out, world-class, state-of-the-art, carbon fiber stupid. It was that monumental in its outrageousness. In keeping with that theme Kippy wanted to sign on John Mayer and Katy Perry for the music. Yes, this was getting completely out-of-hand in it’s ludicrousness. But then, Polly of all people steps in with an idea how they could do it on the cheap and reach a maximum audience. Polly? Really? Guess she ran out of Sterno.

4239946302_5b79b499d1     2608725369_14a8b377d7 Hey!…it could happen.

Polly, in one of her Sterno-induced, hallucinatory urban stumbles, wandered unknowingly into a cafe where they served caffeine libations exclusively. Being somewhat unaware of the proper protocols, she sat down at another’s table and started merrily hammering away on their unattended Mac. Before long, she was watching soft-core food porn and wondering where she’d be able to score some risotto. Not that she knew what it was, but it looked soft enough for her to eat, given her current dental condition. She was hooked, (yes, we all know how addictive a personality she has), and before long was tabbing back and forth and checking out every conceivable podcast she could find. But that, as all good things do, had to end. The computer’s owner returned and had Polly cruelly and emphatically reintroduced to the sidewalk. But not before she had the idea.

Polly as lucidly as possible shares her idea with us. “Put the friggin’ play on the www. interweb!” OK, so she didn’t fully understand the net, but it was a start. And we all had to admit there was more than a little merit to her idea. First of all, the production costs would be way cheaper. Score one for Polly. Secondly, we didn’t need union talent. Way to go again for Polly. Thirdly, and this is what attracted most of us, probably hardly anyone would see it sparing Kippy (and the rest of us) enormous embarrassment. Kippy loved the idea because he thought he’d be leading the vanguard in a whole new art form. It appears he didn’t know much more about the internet than Polly. We are not without mercy and decided not to tell Kippy he wasn’t the first, or second, or… you get the idea.

3823517383_2eb37048e5 This really shouldn’t be happening!

So, now Kippy is creating his list of investors, or “angels” as he calls them, to invest in this sure-fire theatrical hit. The rest of us all quickly pleaded financial hardships so Kippy could go hit up the unsuspecting yet hopeful “angels.” To quote Dante, “Abandon all hope ye who enter here.” It wasn’t going to be pretty. And that was before his scholarship idea.

I called like I usually do to see if the other Bruce was ready to have our regular morning cappuccino, but there was no answer on his Star Flight 89 phone. That was odd as the Star Flight 89 is supposed to be capable of receiving and answering calls even when off. This didn’t distress me too much as Bruce was probably sleeping it off after being out the night before celebrating our housekeeper Mrs. Crosby finally getting her GED. Now we can probably expect her to ask for a raise as she is now a high school graduate or some such paper equivalent. Fat chance on that one! She came highly recommended but still is a thorn in our sides.

Mrs. Crosby before the party.

Anyway, I did not pay it much attention until lunchtime rolled around and Bruce didn’t show up for our daily stir-fry lunch of radicchio and tofu with a little Prego sauce tossed in for color. He never misses that one. So I tried calling him again but to no avail. I went to his home but his wife wasn’t there as well. Where the devil could they be? I must admit I was getting worried as Bruce had earlier testified in the trial of a politician who had sent incriminating photos of his nether region to the National Enquirer in hopes of getting a photo spread for his re-election. No surprise it didn’t work; but he did get an offer as a back up singer to Lady Gaga. He declined as he swore he didn’t know who she was – more proof that the electorate once again sent a total doofus to Washington. The politician swore Bruce would pay for his testimony. Could it be the Washington insider had already wreaked his revenge on Bruce, his wife and their beautiful children Taffy, Tad, and Milo?

Law has it that an adult is not missing until 24 hours have passed. With Bruce’s notorious short attention span, that 24 hours may as well have been 24 weeks. Time passes both slowly and quickly simultaneously for Bruce. Maybe Einstein was right about his theory.

Dinner came and went and still no Bruce. I called the police and inquired about an Amber alert but was told it was only for children. I tried to convince them of Bruce’s childlike wonderment of the world which made him eligible, but they would not cooperate. If anything happens to Bruce, I will personally hold them responsible. In the meantime, I think I’ll call Liam Neeson for help – he’s been down this road a couple of times.

Not the Liam Neeson I envisioned, but hell, he’ll do.

It was a sleepless night for all of us. Bruce’s lawyer called for whatever reason we’ll never know. Perhaps he was psychic. He wanted to know how Bruce was. How did he know? Was he involved somehow? Very strange until we found out he was looking for Bruce for an unpaid invoice. Typical lawyer.

This absence of Bruce carried over for a full week and a half with no sign of Bruce. And then we got a postcard from Bolivia. It seems he was taken hostage by a bunch of striking Bolivian tin workers demanding a ransom or they would separate Bruce from some of his vital organs. Needless to say this would put a big crimp in our plans for the upcoming opera season. It’s always something.

In a masterful stroke of diplomatic genius, I took over all the negotiations. It seems after a week and a half the tin workers were more than willing to turn Bruce over, ransom or no. Between his demands for a bed made properly, food cooked to his liking, and a general overall non-stop week and a half of whining, they had seen the folly of their undertaking. But they were not going to get off the hook so quickly. Oh, no.

While it’s true we wanted him more than they did, we would parlay this into a positive and come out smelling like roses, though when we did retrieve Bruce, he smelled nothing like any rose we’ve ever seen. Our negotiations went quickly, so desperate were they for relief. We got everything we demanded and probably could have gotten more but why be greedy?

Suffice to say, they paid royally for their misadventure. We now have: a lifetime subscription to Opera News, unlimited car washes for the Pignasaurus, five years worth of those entertainment coupon books, and a promise that sometime in the next couple of months they will take our housekeeper, the insufferable and over-paid Mrs. Crosby off of our hands. Hah, and they thought Bruce was a handful! I can hardly wait to see what she’ll get us!

Edible idiocy.

Posted: August 13, 2012 in Movies, People, Television
Tags: ,

“People are stupid. They have no couth. They also have criminally small vocabularies. I don’t want to talk with them any longer.” So sayeth the other Bruce. Come to think, I’m the other Bruce too. Who is writing this then? But I, the other other Bruce, digress.

So, so uncouth! (gamergirl.hubpages.com)

We were traveling through middle-class, middle-of-the-road, mid-size, mid-America the other day when it dawned on Bruce that the language some use in a pejorative fashion tends to categorize the lesser thinkers among us as nothing more than poor food substitutes. And the longer he prattled on about it, the more convinced I became he might be on to something. But then again, it might have to do with the air-conditioning in our Pignasaurus doing its best impression of global warming and I was in the early stages of heat stroke and thus not in complete control of my faculties.

Now unless we or you are strolling along the African veldt, it’s highly unlikely that any of us would be mistaken for dinner. So why do some persist in putting others down by naming them as food? Unless it’s their secret intent to have us for dinner and I don’t mean over for dinner.

How about meatball: a tasty ball of indeterminate chopped meat usually accompanying spaghetti in a marinara sauce. This was a favorite name for Archie Bunker’s son-in-law Rob Reiner who now looks like a meatball. Life imitating art we suppose. Go figure.

Meatball! (steeshes.com)

Or that man is a cold fish. Scaly with dead eyes? Smelly after a few hot days? Not really very nice unless you’re a sushi aficionado or do a mean Christopher Walken impression. Even then as a term of endearment, it falls very short of giving as a goof gift around the holidays. After a while, you too would also smell very badly.

Crackers? We like crackers with pate on them. But this is used in a couple of different ways. That guy is crackers. OK, maybe he is crazy, but you wouldn’t call him Triscuit, would you? And there is the “those crackers over there” use. Do not say this out loud near them. This is far worse. We’re not certain of the origin of this and are afraid to Google it as well. You can’t be too safe, you never know who is reading this. Nah, why worry, they’re just a bunch of dumb crackers anyway.

How about “That is a cheesy outfit.”? Or a cheesy mustache. On the mustache side, one runs the risk of looking like a seventies porn star. Cheesy indeed. Unless of course that is the desired look one is seeking in which case yes, it is definitely cheesy and we have some land in southern California we’d like to sell you. Cheesy outfits are inexcusable. They are usually found in Walmarts where most of the merchandise is Chinese. I don’t know about you, but my Levi’s better be made here…or at the very least Sri Lanka.

Some people are just by nature crabby. Is this due to a childhood deprivation or a nagging infestation that is not generally discussed in polite company? Or were their parents not really interested in finding Nemo after all? This being the Two Bruces, being crabby does not ever apply no matter what affectations we are displaying at the time. We are always of good nature and gentle heart and demeanor until our lacrosse team loses. Then just leave us alone unless you want some cheap sherry thrown at you.

Oh, yum! (gourmetsleuth.com)

We of course could go on…and on. There is pork/pig, beefy, juicy, tomato, ham, turkey. Wait, that sounds like an awfully good sandwich. Maybe on a ciabatta roll? Stone-ground mustard please. But why bother? If one feels reduced to denigrating another by calling them a food name, go ahead. Breeding will always out. And so will the uncouth.

Bruce and I have different viewpoints on food. Bruce has very catholic (which will surprise his mother very much) tastes in food while I am the quintessential picky, snobby eater. We also disagree on portion sizes. But not as you might think.

For instance, how much pink slime in your hamburger is too much? Bruce thinks that’s what it gives it its flavor. I disagree violently. Is it the amount or the actual additive that is harmful? Cosmic questions are seemingly answered by such petro-chemical giants as DuPont and other companies that revel in nature’s sense of humor – read this as deformities. Now before any of you are incensed by this seemingly unfeeling, un-PC viewpoint, we have this to say – Get a life!

The Blob – the original pink slime. (lonelyreviewer.com)

We’re not talking deformities in the physical sense – we’re talking about the deformities of personality, the misshapen decision-making of all political participants and finally – anything on the Bravo channel. These are all the results of pink slime and its like minded molecularly related kin. Oh, yeah, there’s a lot of that crap going on and you’re eating it big time!

Pink slime is only the most recent discovery of food companies using really weird stuff, not natural by any stretch of the imagination to make things more palatable. Sounds sort of like a politician changing his views to reach and convince more unsuspecting people he will make their taxes lower and their teeth whiter. Ain’t gonna happen! But that doesn’t stop them from trying, oh nooo! Doesn’t the name Con-Agra sort of give it away?

But, we digress. What else are these neighborly companies graciously providing us in our increasingly dubious food supply? How’s this for a starter? Angelica. Awww, sounds really nice and harmless, doesn’t it? (Sort of like Sister Mary Angelica, the kind of sister who slapped your knuckles silly for mouthing off in class.) But then you learn a certain species of this is similar in appearance to poisonous hemlock. You know the stuff, the kind Socrates took to leave this mortal coil. We don’t know about you, but we do not under any circumstance trust these companies to pick the right Angelica. Pick the wrong one and you’ll be singing with the angels. Call it the Tony Soprano weed. That’s more accurate.

  Wrong and gratuitous Angelica. (blingcheese.com)

Right angelica, maybe. (altnature.com)

Or here’s something with a rather truthful name – false flax oil. This is found in Russia, suspect already, right? – and is considered viable as a vegetable oil or fuel. Either way, you’re going to get gas whether you like it not. Just stay downwind of us, please.

However, our investigations have revealed the seedy side of this and we’re blowing the whistle now. Variegated dreck is one you probably haven’t hear of yet until now. VD as it’s known in the trade is used for making all those tasteless, multi-colored gummy bears. Think it’s harmless? Not on your life. What do you think happens to your old, worn tires? Yep, gummy bears. Good one, huh? At least make sure you get the stuff made with radial ply tires – it lasts longer.

Been to a county fair or carnival lately? If so, it’s probably a safe bet (we really shouldn’t say safe on this one) that you had cotton candy. Cotton? Oh yeah, and we’ve got some seaside property in New Mexico you’re gonna love. That “cotton candy” is made courtesy of Libbey Owens Ford. Yeah, that’s right the makers of the stuff with the Pink Panther as its spokesperson. It’s fiberglass! And you’re eating it and so are your chiildren. Don’t worry, you’ll be hearing from social services on this one, buddy, but at least you’ll be warm!

So next time you open that big yaw of yours, think about what you’re putting into it. Pink slime is not even the half of it.

While we openly admit our preternatural dislike of our first names, we find that most people really like Bruces, as well they should. Go to any astrological chart, dig deep enough and you’ll find the traits that garner the most respect are those associated with a Bruce. You scoff? Possibly, but not for much longer.

The world is undoubtedly a far better place because of Bruce. Not just any Bruce, but all Bruces with the exception of those who might call themselves Brucie Ray, Joe Bob Bruce, John Wayne Brucie, – you know the kind: missing some teeth, dreadful tattoos, and bound to be arrested for some heinous crime against humanity. No, that hardly ever happens with a Bruce.

Bruces are known throughout history for their valor, intelligence, uncommon good looks, impeccable taste in all things cultural and spiritual, kindness, generosity, peacefulness, compassion, and (you can ask any Bruce’s wife about this) their virility. It’s true!

Think about all the Bruces you know or are familiar with. Throughout history and culture, there is usually a Bruce leading the vanguard of the next wave of positive change. You scoff again? Read on doubter!

Here are some of the Bruces that come immediately to mind with just a soupcon of their achievements following. You of course can add your own as you most certainly will.

Bruce Springsteen – just for making New Jersey cool qualifies him for free drinks at the local bar.

Bruce Lee – showed us that Bruces are as tough as the next guy. Maybe even tougher! If you don’t believe this, were he still alive, he’d kick your butt! Get with the program, dude!

Bruce Willis – the uber Bruce, ’nuff said.

Robert the Bruce – Bruce as a pronoun. What could be better? Read your Scottish history, this ain’t school!

Bruce Vilanch – this might be a reach, but he has helped a lot of people in Hollywood so that counts.

Bruce Boxleitner – showed us that in all Bruces, as well as some other men, aging well is a natural. With the exception of the previous mentioned Bruce. we don’t know what happened.

Bruce Campbell – the most famous unknown B-movie actor who shows us that anonymity is its own strength. In keeping with his anonymity, there will be no picture here.

Bruce – the shark in the first “Jaws”movie –  message here: you just don’t mess around with a Bruce.

Bruce Wayne – the Bruce with the most issues including a penchant for latex clothing, but he’s a do-gooder at heart.

Bruce Dern – just on principle. He’s the father of actress Laura Dern, but for the life of us we can’t figure who is more famous.

Lenny Bruce – Made it semi-OK to say F*** almost all the time.

Bruce Hornsby – pianist and sometime Grateful Dead member. That alone qualifies him for the name Bruce.

Bruce McGill – as D-Day from “Animal House”

So reader whose name unfortunately is not Bruce, this is only a partial list. But we hope it gives you a start on the road to new respect for those named Bruce. We do so much for you, all we ask is that you don’t ever call us Brucie. That will make us mad and you don’t want to see us get mad.

Kevin Spacey? How the hell did he get in here? Secretly wants to be a Bruce too.