Alright, everyone relax. I’m here.
Did a little re-branding this week. We’re gonna be just Tinseltown Takedown. Before any yutz out there starts laying the over/under for who got punched out or if I’d done it like old days with another four hour liquid lunch at the Beehive Bar, I’m going to put the squash on that action.
A lot of chatter making rounds about town to the tune of sour grapes. My return to the Hollywood trenches is being hailed as less than stellar. “Darin Tino gone soft like Howard Stern” and as one ass jackal put it: “Tino has sold out to Mr. & Mrs. Mainstream.” That so? Guess it never occurred to the Clown Shoe Crew that maybe Darin Tino was just getting warmed up.
And now, just as my name is coming off the title, the kid gloves are coming off as well. Here at the new Tinseltown Takedown, the order of business is gonna be an all-you-can-eat Bare Knuckle Buffet.
All day. Every day.*
When it comes to causing havoc in Hollywood? I’ve got one speed: ripshit riot. Keeping that particular theme of mayhem in mind, let’s welcome a new Tinseltown Takedown segment: Actors We Should Legally Be Allowed to Sock In The Face.
There were so many – so very, very many – possible honorees to bestow the bottle breaking over-the-head ceremony to. Instead of going for one of the more world renown asshole extraordinaires, I decided to follow in the ways the late, great Larry Storch and how that loveable F-Troop goof called in marker to the last of Mickey Cohen’s gang to give a new-to-the-biz kid his first lap dance from that fickle mistress Lady Luck. And if you think Miles Teller is an over hyped, flash-in-the-pan? We might just end up friends.
And if you happen to enjoy the alleged actor? Hey, I say, “Au contraire mon frère.” That’s French for go fuck yourself, mon frère.
Ain’t that right, Jeremiah Johnson Redford?
*Everyday not guaranteed. Sue me.