Heh heh heh

Boozing is just as fun when animated

I'm not talking about getting tore up from the floor up either. Even when sobriety is crudely thrust upon me by responsibilities and that thing called 'work' I do enjoy seeing heavy boozing portrayed on the small screen. Throw in the limitless options presented by the adult-themed cartoon and we're in business. I present the FX Network's Archer.

The car smashing into what appears to be a boat made of balsa wood is iconic.

It's no secret that LVL loves his dirty and filthy cartoons...and fortunately the powers that be have gotten a full dose now of just how effective and damn funny the genre can be. The fact is characters can be drawn and written with almost limitless options really counts for a lot. Let's be honest, South Park and Family Guy paid their dues...and while their forerunners in The Simpsons and the vastly underrated The Critic dabbled in this absurdity, but it wasn't until cable took this type of program to late nights that we really gain insight into the drunken and drugged out world that is the mind of a comedic writer. The latest and sharpest of such programs these days is Archer.

Archer is set in an alternate reality where the Soviet Union(or at least Russia) is still engaged in a Cold War setting and privatized spy agencies pick up the slack that the CIA, MI-6, and the KGB leave unattended. Thinking of the sophisticated subdued drinking of James Bond and his martini? Think again.

This show is currently like nine episodes into its run, and every episode has displayed one or more characters drinking everything from Absinthe all the way to a double Campari and Vodka.

But LVL, aren't these drinks just understated props? Fuck you, no. The series is riddled with all the worst stereotypes about excessive boozing. Drinking on an empty stomach, drinking on the clock, sex-filled blackouts, drinking and driving, poonhoundery, and bizarre chemicals ingested as a side item to half gallons of gin, scotch, and champagne. Ever see someone snort MSG? Enter Dr. Krieger. Ever seen erotic asphyxiation on your normal Thursday viewing? Archer makes it a plot point in half the episodes. Wanted to see your reamed out mother blackout and lick gin off the elevator floor? Meet Malory.

This bitch's breath could peel paint. Even she runs around half-naked...but that's nothing compared to Lana Kane, Sterling's sometime lover and rival spy.

Lana's animated tits bounce around like 'shes at a rodeo' and yet despite her nakedness, she is an accomplished spy(Archer himself is somewhat of an unappreciated badass) who is known to 'hit the sauce' pretty hard on assignment.

If you've got 30 minutes to blow on Thursdays 10PM, give Archer a shot. You will feel the powerful urge to drink right along with these degenerates. Rampant heroin use and snorting MSG, seems a poor idea though in any reality.

Great Drunks of the Silver Screen 11.0

Er...or the small screen in this case. Hey, and look here now-it's a woman this time. I give you:



Sue Ellen Ewing, Dallas socialite and dysfunctional alkie. Glug-glug.

Strengths: Vengeful bitch, partial owner of Ewing Oil, powerful liver

Weaknesses: Pisses her pants around JR, repeatedly.

During the late 70's and through the decade of excess known as the 80's many viewing starved Americans gathered round the old teevee and vegged out on some quality primetime soap operas. First among equals, Dallas was the place to be for my parents and their age group that didn't roll into the dungheaps of local bars. I don't remember everything about this program, but my mother would whip my ass if I talked outside a commerical break.

Anyhoo, Sue Ellen (as any viewer could tell you) dealt with her abusive and straying bastard of a husband JR by drinking anything shy of paint thinner. Though purists and fans will tell you she only became an dreaded alkie during the show's run, my much more awesome recollection puts her squarely in the back of iconic Southfork:






Soused 24/7 often rolling about in a nightgown-in the grass, falling in the pool, flipping cowshit, etc. That's the gist. Numerous intriques, business fuckery, petrowarfare, and animal husbandry all seemed secondary to Sue Ellen's emotional minefield of suspicion and abuse. Mark well this exchange in the famous who-shot-Jr arc:

Yes, quite the reasonable response indeed. These two have more horns on their heads than irradiated cattle and it makes for great tension. Continuing in this vein, JR uses his parents(who must have sinned terribly in their previous lives) to kick her ass.


Classic. High fucking drama for 1981. Or 1982. Those days tend to blur. JR goes on to tell our stoic and sauced heroine something along the lines of her being a terrible mother and a drunk. Everything else goes nuclear when he further threatens to send her to the booby hatch. If you look closely, JR does this scene with piece of bacon in his hand.

The fact that Sue Ellen was not in fact JR's assailant is a bona fide miracle. We can only point out that her self-destructive boozing prevented a coherent premeditated murder, which in and of itself is pretty odd on this program. Dallas was sorta confusing.

Quick Hit

On this day back in 82, some folks at NBC rolled out this little number:

Longevity. Norm. Cliff. Shelly Long with a career, Kirstie Alley during her "Hot" phase. Truly a bygone era, but it has allowed the dipshit network writers to throw out any mediocre product and expect it to succeed (on principle) because everyone loves a saloon as a headquarters.

Great Drunks of the Silver Screen 10.0

Peter O'Toole. Duh.

Clearly a no-brainer, this Irishman represents the last vestiges of inebriate actors from the UK.

Strengths: Irish, incredible agent representation, clearly immortal

Weaknesses: Irish, fire, passing out on the floor, gendarmes

We've covered his compatriots before in this ignoble series of powerful functional drunks. Behold:

O'Toole has managed to avoid the Reaper longer than the remainder of this heady, notorious crew....a baffling accomplishment given his literally being born into a drinking household. His father was a tremendous drunk that often boozed with his son.


Since Mr. O'Toole is still alive and kicking, I will this single time omit his numerous acting credentials beyond his notable rendition of Lawrence in Lawrence of Arabia and his lesser known but much more excellent portrayal of Henry II in The Lion in Winter. How big are his acting chops? Well the ubiquitous Michael Caine was his understudy...and learning to live the debauched lifestyle of his mentor as well.

O'Toole set fire to many, many things. Notably, resort kitchens and usually his own bed. He also loathed last call, going so far as to purchase an Irish pub so they would continue to serve him. He of course cancelled the check the next morning. The owner had no hard feelings, and O
Toole attended his funeral...only to find in a daze that he was at the wrong one.

I rest much easier now that it is Fall 2009...as the Summer of Celebrity Death failed to take down this invulnerable drinking god.

Say it ain't so Bandit!

Burt Reynolds to enter rehab.

http://www.accessatlanta.com/celebrities-tv/139748.html?cxntlid=thbz_hm

Great Drunks of the Silver Screen 9.0

Presenting the iconic Richard Harris:

We praise the man and mourn the loss of another raging alcoholic from the UK. This Irish actor is commonly considered to be one of the true hellraising paragons during the latter half of the 20th century. Though he was reported to drink only with Hitler during his latter(Hodgkins Disease) years, we here can certainly recognize the decades of gin-soaked debauchery that he boldly had undertaken. This guy rocked.

Strengths: Irish, wide range as an actor, smartass in real life

Weaknesses: Irish, took a check for Harry Potter, outlived his organs

Mr. Harris's acting resume is well-known...what is generally not-known is that he was also a singer and spoken word artist. Harris got a later start than his drunken contemporaries of the day, first appearing in 1958 films and then feverishly making up for it during the sixties. His casting in Camelot was a headscratcher at first, but he parlayed that success into highly commercial film-making that gave low budget works like Orca some serious gravitas. I remember once as a kid being wonderstruck at A Man Called Horse and had no idea until much later that Harris was often so hammered that he couldn't be forced out of bed. His award winning career is one that today's shitass actors couldn't hope to match even if they were sober.

One of the most humorous and cliche' gutter remarks is attributed to Harris, when found by a Bobby in a storm ditch. "The world is spinning and I am waiting for my house to go by."

How fucking epic is that?

Great Drunks of the Silver Screen 8.0

I present to you: The McKenzie Brothers from Strange Brew

Technically, these two misfits were long-standing fixtures on SCTV and other assorted small screen stuff before the early 80's saw fit to give them a bawdy movie.

Strengths: Immune to tainted Canadian beers, bizarre amalgam of invulnerability and stupidity, Hosehead the Dog

Weaknesses: The criminal justice system, Canada, mortal foes of Max Von Sydow

Ah yes, these two lunatics...get a good look at them. Every generalization of Canadian misfits wrapped up in a brotherly package. These two are consummate beer-swillers, knocking them back like water at the end of their SCTV sketches and somehow parlaying that into a modest film cult following. Said film documents their borderline retarded rise from unemployed scam artists to duped employees of Elsinore Brewery, and the inevitable result of criminally insane incarceration.

Along the way, these assholes drink everything not nailed down. Without revealing too much of the 'plot' let's just say that Max Von Sydow's nefarious plans to contaminate beer with a potent suggestive chemical get tripped up by the heroic livers of the siblings. With the help of the equally insane dog, Hosehead, they topple the nefarious plans of Sydow and his henchmen.

Sweet Jesus, look at that prick. I would say this dog is well-trained and a cinematic jewel. In reality, he's probably just goddamn mean. Hosehead is equally immune to the contaminated beer and gains the ability to fly along the way.
Crude, crude editing. To make matters worse, could Toronto not be dropped from that scene? I'd be drunk and borderline insane having to live in that opaque neighborhood.

(a meeting of the minds and its a three-way tie)

Hell, the damn dog is more likable than either of these Great White Gumps. Still, I honor their powerful thirst and clearly inhuman livers.

Algonquin Round Table Mk V

Okay, fine. I get it. Thus far my attempts at sensible and reasoned discussion have met with failure, scorn, and threats of bodily harm. I don't know what I was expecting, what with the lowbrow and indeed, somewhat criminal mindsets of my past panelists. What does yours truly have in mind to correct this mess? Not a damn thing. Let's get started with this installment:

First panelist, you are up. I present to you all Lord Percy Lambourn...soused noble and gentlemen.LVL: Ah, Lord Lambourn I see you are with the admiral and Lady Lambourn.

Lord Lambourn: Er...ah...indeed. I really didn't expect her here today you know. She rarely takes to these events, but when she does she does. Hedge pissers and matters of "etti-quette" are more her fancy.

LVL: Her dessicated cleavage is certainly pronounced. I think I'll have some of that rum if you don't mind. Do all genteel ladies of your period have their goods out there all the time?

LL: Er...ah...yes, or rather no. Usually I am too far in my cups to notice her...er..ah...cups.

LVL: That's all rather confusing, sir. Next panelist also hails from the bygone days of Britannia: Post-Captain Jack Aubrey, MP, of HMS Surprise. Greetings Captain.

Captain Jack Aubrey: Well met sir, although I am curious why you would question me on matters of ship's rum and grog, rather than...oh, hold fast there! A Frenchman!

(fires pistol)

LVL: Sweet Jesus that was loud.

CJA: Fie, that's nothing compared to the broadside of 18-pounders on a ship-of-the-line. Now sir, can we make this quick? I'll miss my tide and then have to run like smoke and oakum. You don't mind if we run our sheets? Prime.

LL: Are you a member of Parliament sir? I don't recall seeing you, but it's a trifle. Speaking of, I once had a rum trifle...zzzzz

LVL: Gentlemen, allow me to please complete introducing the remaining panel members and then we can discuss all things.

CJA: You mean rum, don't you?

LVL: Among other things. We're not restricted to that you know...it is the 21st century at Drinking Knoxville.

LL: I've never been to the Americas.

LVL: Actually you have. You were shit-faced the entire time. Do you not remember killing every living thing in the jungle with Dr. Gilpin? You consumed a rare poison and metabolized it in seconds.
LVL: Any of this ring a bell?

LL: zzzzz

LVL: I never knew British lords slept so much. Let's add one more Englishmen to the group today folks, but one more acquainted with boozing in the modern era...ladies and gentlemen, let's hear it for Motorhead's Lemmy:

Lemmy: Slag off. I'm just here for the drinks. I'll answer your piss-ant questions as soon as I get a fag from the cigarette machine.

LVL: Uh, not to contradict you Lemmy, but that's actually our last panel member...the Tycho Monolith from the groundbreaking novel 2001. Far as I know, it does not vend tobacco.

CJA: By Jove, what is that damn thing?

LL: zzzzzz

LM: So you're telling me I've got to get my own smokes? Bloody Hell what kind of chickenshit operation is this?

LVL: Well, our previous Round Tables have met with utter disaster. I thought we might want to bring in someone...er...something with a grander historical and celestial perspective on the subject.

LM: The fucking thing can't talk, you wanker. It's got no mouth. How can it drink?

LVL: I was drunk when I booked this installment.

CJA: You two blokes, help me run this carronade up so I can get a good shot at that Frog.


LVL: Captain, far be it from me to object to shooting up the French, but we did ask you to speak on the importance of alcohol in maintaining morale on a proper manowar.

CJA: Fine, for you landlubbers out there the Royal Navy has a fine tradition of rationing rum to able and ordinary seamen to keep morale high and maintain a fighting crew on the high seas. When a vessel of His Majesty leaves port, he cannot do so without barrel upon barrel of rum and grog. Tens of thousands of gallons are necessary to take a frigate halfway around the world. Apart from the necessary rationing to the men, without copious amounts of alcohol a fighting ship would soon fall apart. Hells bells sir, to say nothing of the medicinal needs we face. You try sawing off shattered limbs without opium and brandy. The entire basis of free trade on the high seas so essential to western society would not be possible with--all guns fire as she bears!


CJA: Take that Boney! Now where were we?

LVL: BEATS THE SHIT OUT OF ME. I CAN'T HEAR A GODDAMN THING. PERHAPS YOU COULD SPEAK ABOUT YOUR PRIVATE STORES. I'M TOLD THE CAPTAIN AND GUNROOM MAINTAINS A FINE TABLE.

CJA: Oh, that. Indeed. No captain worth his salt would dare leave port without his port! HA HA! Port, d'ya hear? My table is always set with a brisk claret or madeira. Observe:



LVL: Shots?!

CJA: You have it sir. No common grog with my officers. You've heard the term 'groggy' after all? It will suffice to keep scurvy at bay, but tastes like shit. Not the good shit either.

LM: To think that England of today owes its prosperity to thousands of shithoused sailors and their booze.

LVL: I see you've found some smokes, Lemmy.

LM: I took 'em off that passed out bloke right there.

LVL: Lord Lambourn, wake up sir. Can you add to Captain Aubrey's account of drunken English sea-power?

LL: Er...ah...I say, I've always been interested in the sea and what's in it. But Captain Aubrey is not the only one to encounter scoundrels in defense of mother England. Why only the other day I had to set this hardened rogue in her place:






LM: Looks like the little shit had it coming.

LVL: Um, do you have anything to add Tycho Monolith?

TM: (makes creepy noises)

LVL: Okay. Well...this is confusing. I didn't really think the Tycho Monolith's role through.

CJA: If someone would nudge his Lordship awake, I would really like to ask his opinion on my new heraldic device for my MP standards. And yours, future unwashed Englishman...

LM: What's the deal with the drunken sloth?

LVL: I was going to ask about the tortoise myself...but...er...ah, I'm being told the Tycho Monolith is now the Jovian Monolith. As if this day wasn't fucking weird enough.

LVL: Alright, Jovian Monolith, what far-reaching and universal truth can you give us?

JM:

LVL: Oh shit, not that fucking thirty minute acid trip bullshit again.

CJA: That doesn't address my question, at all.

LM: Looks like the light show from Hammersmith Odeon back in '84.

LL: (pukes)

LVL: Fuck this noise.

RIP Captain Chaos

While more of a bon vivant than strict lush, we here at DK mourn the passing of Dom Deluise...the fat jolly tub of fun that certainly encouraged OUR drinking when he was on-screen. His role of Captain Chaos, his participation in Mel Brooks' movies were all gems.

Speaking for yours truly, it was his pairing with Burt Reynolds that truly inspired a reckless desire to haul drunken ass (it was the 80's when it wasn't gauche) from Connecticut to California and back again in a tricked-out ambulance.

What do you say Captain Chaos? Are you ready to come back from the afterlife to join us?

UPDATE: Priceless. The outtakes from the Needham films encapsulates his genius better than the actual finished film.

A Good Run

Beer beer beer. Ham ham ham ham ham hamham ham. Beer beer beer. Hambeerham, ham ham, beer beer beer ham beer ham beer beer.


That pretty much sums up my Super Bowl experience yesterday. It was such a good game, even with The Bird unable to complete the miracle run for the title. I guess all good things DO come to an end, be it your favorite team’s season or just the football season as a whole. Our drunken group does know how to make the most of the occasion though, and we made damn sure we had enough booze and food for about 100 people. I consumed at least 10,000 calories throughout the day, thanks to the excess of food and beer on hand. A serious “thanks” to all of you who brought the awesome food – that was one of the best Super Bowl feasts I’ve ever been a part of. The wine and party liquor also helped tremendously.

Talk about a loud bunch of arse-holes, I am totally surprised my neighbors didn’t complain about the noise. I wanted to complain about the noise! I guess that’s what happens when you have 5 former Prick of the Year winners in the same room all shouting over each other and the TV trying to see who can be more prickish. So I must apologize for the missed phone calls from out-of-town/state friends, who I’m certain were calling to wish my team well in the big game. I’ll catch up with you guys soon during the void-of-worthwhile-sports time period between now and next football season.

A final note to those readers who know us: your 2008 Prick of the Year is King Randall the Insufferable. This should not be surprising to any of you. Congratulations prick!

Great Drunks of the Silver Screen 7.0

Ladies and gents, I give you this fading gem:

Bad ass. There are many pictures and images for this iconic late 70's early 80's genre, but few also encompass the soundtrack consisting of Rabbitt, Rich, and Tillis. Are you shitting me?

For every trained orangutan there had to be a hundred angry brawling shit-tossers. Yet Clyde drinks with his human friend Philo Beddoe. A lot. In fact we noticed during this movie they were drinking on the road(acceptable during this period) brawling in meat processing plants, staying in shitty hotels, etc. All the while plowed on the relevant beers of the day...during one scene Philo and Clyde hit about a dozen bars and dives, each painstakingly shot in vivid drunken style.

Olympia for Chrissakes. Cachet.

During one scene following the pub crawl, Philo and primate return to the shady hotel and wake up their companions in the middle of the night...rationally explaining how Clyde needs some sex and needs his stroke immediately. Of course, a willing female of genus Pongo is recruited. Seriously, Clyde gets laid instantly. Baffling, but rational somehow at 3:00 in the morning.

This film's primary antagonists also fit the bill. The nefarious and utterly inept Black Widows end up losing, and badly at that, every contest they face in pursuit of Philo.

Relentless in chase, fools in execution...the Black Widows are thwarted by the elderly, some armed with shotguns, but on SSI in any case. Despite this Cholla maintains a lax attitude toward the gang's boozing...encouraging the use of sidecars as coolers, filled with delicious Coors.

The film is filled with drunken brawling, errant tractor trailers, a dwindling supply of choppers, and a wan Sandra Locke milking her time with Clint. Let's not kid ourselves, this film is about boozing and the kickass relationship between trained primate and slightly better trained primate. Who among us can forget "Right turn, Clyde?"

Or simple wonder of an animal telling us all to FO.

Drink on, fiend. You're still more civilized than half the bastards I know.

Great Drunks of the Silver Screen 6.1: Just Take It Easy, Man

Name: Jeffrey Lebowski, a.k.a. The Dude
Film: The Big Lebowski

In this 1998 cult-classic, Jeff Bridges portrays one of the best on-screen slackers in recent cinematic history. Part drunk, part stoner, The Dude bowls his way through early 1990’s Los Angeles soused on White Russians and living the high life, all while being thrust into the middle of a kidnapping farce by inept henchmen who confuse him with a millionaire of the same name. Never mind that he doesn’t hold a job or can barely pay rent, these things do not deter great drunks from enjoying their lifestyle. The narrator informs us that The Dude may be the laziest person in all Los Angeles County, but that oversimplification doesn’t convey the complexity of a man able to compete for a spot in the bowling league championship, navigate the seedy underworld of porn magnate, Jackie Treehorn, and at the same time help his special lady friend conceive.

The Dude rises above all adversity, usually relying on a pretty strict drug regimen to keep his mind limber. It seems almost every scene shows The Dude enjoying his favorite drink, a “Caucasian”. I recall many times at the height of the film’s popularity when my friends and I would consume numerous of these bastards at home and the local bars, lactose-intolerant stomach be damned! Not to mention the other illicit substances glamorized on screen. Mind if I do a J? Ah, some things never go out of style…


The film had plenty of excellent characters making the Dude’s plight that much more entertaining. Props to The Nihilist, Uli Kunkel a.k.a. Karl Hungus, who downs a bottle of JD in the swimming pool and passes out cold. Yes, it is exhausting being a nihilist. Remember when Tara Reid was one of the hottest things going? The film also produced endless quotes that you probably still hear today:

“Do not fuck with the Jesus”
“This is what happens when you fuck a stranger in the ass”
"Shut the fuck up, Donnie!"
"All the dude ever wanted was his rug back"