Tag Archives: Snooki

My Review of The New Celebrity Apprentice 2017 with Ahhnold

4 Jan

January 4, 2017


What’s the deal with the horse?

My review of the New Celebrity Apprentice with Arnold Schwarzenegger:

It stinks.

Good night everybody! You’ve been great!


This season Arnold Schwarzenegger (you try typing that) has taken over as boss. Donald Trump was unavailable for some reason. 

OK, let’s be real. The show does totally stink, but this year it can’t be solely blamed on the horrible contestants, whom I’ll get to in a minute. The blame has to land squarely on Arnold Schwarzenegger’s bulky shoulders. He’s terrible. Awful. Not funny, not intimidating, just boring. I have a lot more fun at home doing a bad Arnold impression in my living room. (Imagine this in an Arnold voice.) “Now is the time for you to tell who is the one I should fire now or I will ram my fist into your stomach!” “Women’s team, I am going to ask you some questions, and I want you to answer them immediately! Who’s your daddy, and what does he do?” 

In fact, just by using this Arnold soundboard you can create a better boardroom experience all by yourself.: https://celebdial.com/c/arnold-schwarzenegger Try it! It’s a blast.

I should also note that Arnold (“in here you call me ‘Governor'”)  is accompanied by his nephew, Petey, I think, who has an accent that’s almost but not quite as funny as his uncle’s.

Meanwhile, instead of picking a catchphrase (“you’re fired” having been taken) and sticking with it, he used at least three in the opening double episode. “You’re terminated”, “get to the chopper”, and “hasta la vista, baby.” I’m waiting for week 13 when he’s run of out good ones and is stuck with something from Hercules Goes Bananas

Meanwhile, who are the celebrities? 
I don’t know. I can identify a few of them, and a couple might even qualify as celebrities, but seriously? I’ll let you decide for yourself.

Jon Lovitz. Perhaps the biggest name in the cast. Let that sink in. Personally, I liked him on SNL. Loved him as Satan.


Kyle Richards. Thought she was a dude with that name. She’s a Real Housewife of Somewhere Low Classy or Other.
Chael Sonnen. A mixed martial arts guy. I don’t think he said a word in the entire show last night. 
Boy George and Vince Neil. Vince drinks. George does not. HILARITY ENSUES! (NOTE: Hilarity does not ensue.)
Laila Ali: Muhammad Ali’s daughter. Also allegedly a TV host. Have you seen her hosting something?
Snooki. She is surprisingly low-key and sober.


And by the way, congratulations to Snooki for the weight loss, but I think she looked better before.
Ricky Williams, Eric Dickerson, and Lisa Leslie. Athletes. Lisa Leslie was in the WNBA. (Not making a joke, just an observation.)
Carson Kressley. Used to be one of the Queer Eye for the Straight Guy guys. I liked him on the show last night, and he seems to be doing a pro job. But at the end of the day, what is he known for? What did he do to be famous? He’s famous for being gay, which seems really unfair to all the other gay folks out there.
Porsha Williams. Another Real Housewife of Somewhere Low Classy or Other, but a different place than the other one.
Carrie Keagan. Who? Doesn’t matter, she was first to go.
Carnie Wilson. Once known for being in Wilson Phillips, now known for her seesaw weight. Doesn’t matter, she was next to go.
Matt Iseman. Another one I never heard of before. He hosts American Ninja Warrior, which would be a feather in any child’s cap. So far I like him.
Brooke Burke-Charvet. She was a bigger name when she was just Brooke Burke. Big name on the E! Channel, which means she’s a star on a cable channel most people neither watch nor want.

Meanwhile, I’ll give Arnold the last word: “Get your ass to Mars!” (Total Recall, and soon to be a catchphrase.)



Mr. Blog Meets The Scrappers (part one)

1 Sep

September 1, 2010

If you live in the southern part of Brooklyn you probably know the 18th Avenue Feast. Every year the neighborhood gathers together to celebrate Santa Rosalia and buy bootleg CD’s.

I’ve been there too many times to mention and it has gotten a bit boring. Same dunk the clown booth year after year, same bad music by “local artists” who never heard of Bensonhurst, same 14 year old girls trying to look like Snooki. But this year was different.

This year, some true “local artists” had set up a booth to meet their fans.

I’m not referring to The Hong Kong Master Tailor or The ROTNAC, I mean the true local artists, the hard-working heroes, those Spike Television sensations, yes! The Scrappers.

The Scrappers had set up a tent right in the middle of the feast. And like you would expect, it looked like crap. It was a double-wide dirty white tent with the sides rolled up. I’m sure they salvaged it from some carnival they were scrapping. The only sign to tell you what was in it was a small, loose-leaf paper-sized  sign spray painted with “Scrappers at the 18th Avenue Feast!”

In front of the tent was a long folding table filled with piles of cheap t-shirts. Cheap as in quality, not price. I don’t know how much they were because they had no signs anywhere and I was not about to ask.

So why didn’t I ask? You’d expect me to have something to say to these guys, right? Well wrong, not these guys. Despite a small portable DVD on the corner of the table showing the last episode of Scrappers, these guys were not the Scrappers. Oh, I’m sure they were some scrappers, little “s,” but not the Scrappers, big “S.” They must have sold some old gas pipes or something at one time, but these guys never had a TV show. They looked a whole lot more like the guys the Rolling Stones hired for security at Altamont. They were milling around, scowling, and punching each other.  If these guys decided to call themselves Scrappers and sell some shirts, I sure as hell wasn’t going to stop them. But I was sure that if I asked how much the shirts cost A- I would be forced to buy one and B- my wallet would be a whole lot lighter. (“Hey, what do you mean $20 is too expensive? Now you’re buying two for $50.”)

For all the world, it looked like some random goombas decided to throw together a tent and sell rip-off t-shirts.

To be fair, despite there being seven guys who were totally not Scrappers, there was actually one real Scrapper there. While everyone else was walking around and swearing, eating slices of pizza, showing off bad tattoos, and generally being obnoxious, Frank Noots himself was sitting in the center of the tent drinking one beer while a guy handed him another. Staring off into space, he looked almost, but not quite, totally wasted.  Too bad that wasn’t really a Picasso he found on the show this week.

One would almost swear that the roadie-looking thugs had kidnapped and drugged him just so they could claim they were a real Scrapper booth. (“One” would, but not me, because those guys looked dangerous.)

Nowhere was the Spike TV logo anywhere present, nor a single Spike camera, not even a Dino or Mimmo, lucky for them. I hope that means there won’t be a season two. That way Dino and Mimmo can go back to kidnapping old women. (Missed this week’s show? Shame on you.)

A little perspective:

On the next block, WCBS had set up a tent half the size of the Scrappers and people were lined up six deep to get “Brooklyn’s Own” Joe Causi’s autograph. (And yes, one of them was me.) Not far the other way, Lucy’s Sausage had customers lined up six deep for a sweet sausage and peppers. (And yes, one of them was me.) By contrast, the Scrappers booth had no one in front of it. A few people stood a good twelve feet away and wondered if the scrappers were going to attack them if they crossed the neutral zone. (And yes, one of them was me.)

They had what looked like hundreds of t-shirts on the table and I’d be willing to bet they didn’t sell more than a dozen. Even the people in the booth weren’t wearing them.

They’d have done much better with a bootleg CD.

And I have great ideas for T-shirts.


Other products too.


As Maury Povitch says,


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