Archive

Posts Tagged ‘Steven Seagal fat’

The Ridiculousness of Steven Seagal Part 1

August 17, 2011 108 comments

Ladies, gentleman, hermaphrodites, mongoloids, midgets and the Welsh, I have something heinous and shocking to admit to the world — I’m a Steven Seagal fan.

Now that you’ve thoroughly cleaned your keyboard from the abrupt shower of vomit that I just caused you to disgorge, allow me to explain. I’m not a fan of the obese, squinting, washed-up action star for the same reason that the majority of his small, loyal fan base of muttonheads are. No, I love Steven Seagal because he’s the most unintentionally funny man on the planet. There is literally no one else on God’s green earth that is more ridiculous, absurd and mind-bogglingly delusional than the beached whale bigamist. So I decided to catalogue the most ludicrous aspects of Seagal’s cookie crumb-laden life and career and provide a comprehensive list, narrowed down to 12 segments. Because of the length of this post, I’ve halved it into two parts.

1- Seagal’s Weight

Evidently fond of copious trips to All You Can Eat buffets, with his countless layers of flab in 2011 Seagal closely resembles a bloated, leather-skinned Michelin Man. With an enduring love for stuffing cheeseburgers down his gullet with all the verve of a crackhead at a Colombian coke lab, Seagal hasn’t worried about his widening girth affecting his status as an aging action hero. Closely resembling Mr. Creosote from ‘The Meaning of Life’, Seagal’s bulbous mammaries, quadruple chins, sagging jowls and a gut that looks like it’s impregnated with triplets tell a tale of a man that clearly stopped giving a fuck a very long time ago. In fact, if Seagal were to explode like the aforementioned Monty Python character, there would be enough ‘second helpings’ discarded in the close vicinity to feed the entire population of an average Indian village.

Prone to wearing long overcoats in his movies in an embarrassing attempt to mask his repulsive corpulence, Seagal has all the carnal appeal of a three hour rectal examination. For someone to have made a living as a superstar in the action genre to show such laziness and flagrant disregard for his body in nothing short of hysterical. Yet in his mind, he is a self-proclaimed ‘sex symbol’. I’d imagine 9/10 women would rather fuck a rhino, plus it wouldn’t smell as bad.

2- Seagal’s Ego

The only thing that can legitimately rival the size of Seagal’s belly is the enormity of his egotism. In this man’s deranged cerebrum, he is an undefeatable demigod, incapable of being physically bested in battle by any man (Gene Lebell disagrees, but I’ll get to that in part 2). To exhibit his supposed invincibility, Seagal has always ensured that he barely receives a scratch from his enemies during movie fight scenes, where he almost always destroys foes without succumbing to a solitary punch. There is never a struggle, because Seagal’s ego won’t allow it.

One of his most hilariously narcissistic episodes involved Seagal refusing to film a death scene for his character on the set of Executive Decision, claiming that his fans wouldn’t accept such a monumental event. He held up production for days until finally acquiescing after being threatened with contractual breach.

John Leguizamo, who co-starred in the film, said that during rehearsals Seagal sauntered onto the set and arrogantly declared “I’m in command, what I say is law, anyone not agree?”, which understandably led to Leguizamo cracking up with laughter at this absurd pomposity. Seagal then took it upon himself to cheap-shot Leguizamo, a guy half his size, and slam him into the wall for his insolence. Leguizamo also said that when the fatman finally relented for his big death scene, “It was 6am, he was supposed to die… and we shot his death at 8 p.m”. Not only is Seagal’s ego the size of his gut, but he has all the class of a pubic louse.

Another priceless example of Seagal’s ego was when he hosted Saturday Night Live and demanded that the cast perform sketches that Seagal himself had written rather than the material they already had. One of these masterful ideas, according to Dana Carvey, involved Seagal playing a psychiatrist that talks to a rape victim, and while she tearfully explains her experience, Seagal would feel her up and attempt to rape her himself. Lorne Michaels spent hours explaining to Seagal that the concept wasn’t funny nor even if they made a rape sketch funny, they would never be allowed to put that scene on the air, but Seagal thought it was comedy gold.

When Nicolas Cage said that he could be the biggest jerk to ever appear on SNL, Lorne Michael’s replied “No, no. That would be Steven Seagal.”

3- Seagal’s Misogyny

Which transitions succinctly to the next chapter of Seagal’s ceaseless hilarity — his horrendous treatment of women and deluded belief that he’s some kind of sex symbol. It seems rape scenes aren’t something the fatman likes to remain simply in a fictional realm.

Numerous reports have been made by women that claim Seagal asked them to take their tops off for him to grope their breasts, which according to the stout sensei was done so he could show them where their “spiritual meridian points” were located, as well another woman saying that he claimed he was “looking for lumps”. Man, Seagal really is a charitable fella, huh? The same woman also claimed that “Seagal reached his hand down my pants. He said, ‘I just wanted to touch it for a second to see what it felt like.’”

Ironically these days it would be more entertaining to motorboat Seagal’s man-breasts than a female assistant’s. And if Seagal said to you “I want to eat you out” he’d probably mean he’s about to put your ass on a barbecue. But it’s not just unknown women that have complained of Seagal’s molesting malarkey:

Jenny McCarthy was one of Seagal’s casting couch victims. “They were casting Playmates for Under Siege 2,” she recalled. “I was the last audition, dressed frumpy and plain, the way I usually go, and I walk into his office and it’s only Steven. His office has a huge shag carpet – shag, I’ll repeat that, shag – and a huge screaming casting couch. Casting, casting, casting, casting couch. And he says, ‘Listen, I can’t tell what your body looks like with what you’re wearing, so why don’t you stand up and take off your dress?’ “I started crying, and I said, ‘My video’s for sale for $14.99, go buy it if you want to see.’ And I ran out to my car, and he grabbed my arm and followed me and said, ‘Don’t ever tell this to anybody.’ I was like, ‘Dude, you are gonna regret this one day.”

She was a handful.

Ticker actress Jaime Pressly also claims Seagal tried to give her an “unlicensed massage” during some downtime on the set in 2001. Speaking about an appearance on Howard Stern, she said:

“I got back at Seagal on Howard Stern, I didn’t press charges against him for violating my privacy. I never had that happen to me before, inappropriate behavior. He crossed the line. But I got word from his lawyer that Seagal doesn’t want me saying bad things about him. I told my lawyer to tell his lawyer to tell him that I wouldn’t say another fricking word about it because I already got back at him on the Stern show, but people wouldn’t say bad things if he didn’t do bad things. “

But there’s MORE! Julianna Margulies worked with Seagal on Out For Justice, and said:

“His trailer is around the corner from mine on the Warner Bros. lot, and I was walking by recently and he said, ‘Margulies, come over here and show me some respect!’ He’s not someone I keep in touch with.”

As you’ve probably gathered, Seagal has about as much respect for women as he does for his own physique, and his rampant bigamy further suggests that’s the case.

While still married to his first wife Miyako Fujitani (whom he was obviously just using in order to stay in Japan) he married former Days of Our Lives actress Adrienne La Russa. During his time with her, he met Kelly LeBrock, who he began a relationship and had a child with. His marriage to La Russa was annulled, and he then married LeBrock, but then divorced from her while having an affair with Arrissa Wolf, a nanny to his children. He’s currently with a fourth wife, who must spend every waking day worrying about what’s going to occur first; Seagal’s inevitable affair with another woman, or waking up inside a large cooking pot with Seagal pouring salt on her thighs.

Yet another report was made about his treatment of women, by former CIA employee Robert Strickland:

Raeanne Malone, one of four women hired by Warner Bros. to serve as Seagal’s personal assistants, is in the bathroom of his trailer, brushing her teeth. Strickland watches as Seagal begins loudly calling for Malone, saying he needs her immediately. She emerges still brushing her teeth. “Gee, Raeanne,” says the man of honor and protector of the weak, “You look like that when I come in your mouth.”

In May 1991 all four assistants – Malone, Nicole Selinger, Christine Keever and another woman – quit because of Seagal’s continuing piggery. Three of them threaten to bring sexual-harassment charges against him. Malone and another of the women, in return for a pledge of confidentiality, are paid in the vicinity of $50,000 each.

But the coup de gras of Seagal’s sexist belligerence was the revelation that he had been trafficking sex slaves after a former assistant, Kayden Nguyen, alleged that he sexually assaulted her and kept two young Russian girls in his residence to indulge in his every sexual need 24/7. The whole case happened to mysteriously fade away with no conclusive ending, which means Seagal once again paid out a fuck-load of cash to keep her quiet. Either that or he revealed to her why Richie did Bobby Lupo, and that knowledge is priceless.

The highlight of these wacky shenanigans was the accusation by Nguyen that Seagal exhibits a “unique physiological reaction” to sexual arousal. While possibly the most revolting, vomit-inducing imagery that could ever be conjured up, the idea that Seagal probably develops lactating nipples every time he gets an erection just furthers his status as the world’s most ridiculous man. He could probably breastfeed a whole preschool with those things.

His feelings towards women are highly ironic when he himself exudes a much more feminine presence every time he attempts to run:

4- Seagal’s Hair

Completing his look as the most hideous man in the world, it looks like Seagal exhibited some of his mysterious “Ki-power” on an unsuspecting skunk and killed it before proceeding to place the dead animal on his head as a makeshift toupée. Whether it’s a wig or hair plugs, the thing resting on top his cranium resembles a rugged piece of old carpet or the fuzzy material they used to use for GI Joe (or Action Man as it was known here in England) doll’s hair. It never moves (much like the man it’s sitting on top of), and even in the windiest of gales would remain as stiff as a corpse.

Early on in his career, Seagal’s hair was balding significantly, as the below picture shows:

Rapper DMX (who unsurprisingly had nothing but negative things to say about his experience with the fatman — “He’s a dickhead” said Mr. MX) claimed Seagal has spray on hair. Whatever it is, that Dracula widows peak and trademark girly pony tail ensure Seagal never leaves the house without looking like he belongs in a circus troupe.

5- Pretending to be black

Either Seagal is the biggest fraud on the planet or he genuinely happens to transcend race and transforms into new ethnicities over time, kind of like a fucked up Dr Who. Shockingly, it’s actually not the latter. In the past Seagal has enjoyed pretending to be Italian and Japanese respectively, but his current adopted cultural persona is that of the black man. Just when the sight of a bloated, squinting, pony-tailed douche bag couldn’t get any more ridiculous, Seagal decided to try his hand at “Ebonics”, the language of the ghetto. All of a sudden Seagal was “gangsta” and seemingly under the impression that he was from the hood.

In the majority of Seagal’s direct to DVD era filmography, Seagal has portrayed this insane ‘black man’ version of himself, most hilariously of all in the abominable ‘Today You Die’, an unintentional comedy classic where Seagal mumbles out ‘thug talk’ with all the street credibility of Bill O’ Reilly. Seagal even ensured that one of the black characters remarked that he “walks like a black man and breathes like a killer.” Absolute madness.

Das mah nigga rite dere!

But it wasn’t just in his movies that Seagal asserted that he was a genuine brotha, oh no. Seagal took it one step further, and took on a second career as a black bluesman from the deep south, surrounding himself with actual black people for authenticity and releasing two hilarious albums with his band Thunderbox, including such hits as “Talk to my ass”. But according to Seagal, he’s just as valid a bluesman, who in his own words said:

“I came up in Detroit and there was a lot of blues. I didn’t learn blues from a fucking record; I learned it from the front porch. There were all these people from Mississippi, Louisiana and Texas and I learned from them.”

Now, Seagal and his family moved from Lansing, Michigan to Fullerton in California when he was 5 years old. So according to the fatman, all these old black blues players taught a 5 year old boy everything they knew, as if he was some spooky infant prodigy with the soul of a struggling black man (note: Seagal is half Irish and half Jew). Quote the Seagull:

“Little Milton hadn’t heard me play before. I was doing this Lightnin’ Hopkins thing. Milton looked at me and nodded, like he was trying to say, “This mutha ain’t white.”

No Steven, what he was trying to say was “this honky needs to lose some fucking weight and stop acting like he’s got a year long tan”. Fraudulence or insanity? I’d say a healthy dose of both.

That’s all for part 1. Next up are segments 6-12 in part 2 below, complete with accidental typo:

http://theflyingguillotine.wordpress.com/2011/08/17/ridicuousness-seagal-part-2/

Steven Seagal on Twitter.

March 31, 2011 3 comments

Ah, social networking. How I loathe thee. Nothing screams out “I’m a cunt, look at me!” more than the online narcissism of Facebook, MySpace, Twitter et al. A vain, asinine generation obsessed with themselves and their own mundane lives. Of course, dear reader, you may be thinking I’m displaying colossal hypocrisy by writing about myself, in a way, but blogging is different. On a blog, I’m not desperately trying to accumulate an ever expanding ‘friends list’ while simultaneously promulgating to the world that I just “ate some grapes lololol”.

There’s more chance of Christopher Reeves family deciding to take up equestrianism than me ever having a Facebook account. The closest I will ever get to it is if I find out where Mark Zuckerberg lives, break into his opulent mansion and force a malfunctioning Macbook up his multi-million dollar anus. However, maybe I’m being too harsh on Twitter. When it comes to your average everyday nobody tweeting such compelling and thought provoking messages as “I just scratched by balls” and “Charlie Sheen is mad, lol” then I’m justified in my contempt for the concept, but when an interesting celebrity or someone you’re a fan of tweets, it can provide a window into their lives without you having to resort to deranged stalking. And for the record, when I was caught up that tree outside Jessica Alba’s house, I was bird-watching. And my erection was accidental. The cops got it all wrong.

So when I found out that morbidly obese bigamist and action legend Steven Seagal had gone on to Twitter, I suspended all scorn and basked in all the insight that only an delusional Aikido master and egocentric sex slave trafficker could give.

Seagal never met a burger he didnt like.

These nuggets of wisdom only lasted a day, and since it was posted, it’s been taken down. Fortunately for you, I copied and pasted those badboys for your reading pleasure, and present them to you here. Enjoy.

I’m currently on set in Romania for my latest movie ‘Out To Kill Justice’. It’s a 3 week shoot, so naturally I’m only needed on set for 2 days.
About 22 hours ago via Twitter for iPhone

I’m sitting in my trailer and I’m not leaving until my demands are met. It was written in my contract that a luxurious throne would be constructed in the middle of the set for me to sit on while small Asian women wash my feet. I don’t see either. It’s an outrage.

About 21 hours ago via Twitter for iPhone

These pricks finally got me what I asked for, and I just finished filming a strenuous fight scene. I had to walk all the way over to the other side of the set for a close-up so my stunt double could do all the fighting. I’m exhausted.

About 20 hours ago via Twitter for iPhone

More problems. Apparently the director doesn’t appreciate my improv. It’s not my fault-I haven’t actually read the script. This movie could be about Nazi pedophiles for all I know. Even if I play Hitler I refuse to die though.

About 18 hours ago via Twitter for iPhone

I just looked over the script for the first time. I’ve given it a quick, badly needed rewrite. My character now wears a do-rag and talks ebonics. I wonder why they wrote me as a white character first? Crazy Honkys. I’ve also added 4 sex scenes and lectured the actresses on the importance of authenticity.

About 18 hours ago via Twitter for iPhone

One of the actresses has stormed off the set accusing me of rape. All I did was feel around her breasts to make sure she didn’t have any lumps. So much for gratitude, the cunt!

About 18 hours ago via Twitter for iPhone

I’m done with this movie. Either the director goes, or I go. Can you believe this fuck just asked me to receive a solitary punch in one of the fight scenes? Doesn’t he realize I’m a reincarnated demigod?

About 16 hours ago via Twitter for iPhone

Me and my bodyguards left the set to go and find food. I’m in Burger King and I’m ready to rock. This could get messy.

About 15 hours ago via Twitter for iPhone

Some snot-nosed little punk tried asking me for my autograph while I was lining up for my fifth Triple Whopper. One of my bodyguards pushed him to the ground, but really I defeated him with my ki-power.

About 15 hours ago via Twitter for iPhone

This old bitch behind me moaned about all the snorting and grunting I made while eating and complained to the manager. They demanded I leave! But I stole a ketchup satchel on the way out, so I got the last laugh!

About 14 hours ago via Twitter for iPhone

I saw a poster for Van Damme on a wall. I hate that guy. I taught Anderson Silva how to kick. What’s that fag ever done?

About 13 hours ago via Twitter for iPhone

On my way to McDonalds now. It’s a windy day and my wig just fell off, so one of my bodyguards killed a skunk and I’m using that instead. Can’t tell the difference.

About 13 hours ago via Twitter for iPhone

Just consumed my 12’th Big Mac and fries. I feel uncomfortably bloated. I haven’t felt this bad since one of my sex slaves discovered I have lactating nipples.

About 12 hours ago via Twitter for iPhone

I’m in the bathroom having a shit. I don’t know what’s worse, the smell of my putrid feces or the stench of all the aromatherapy oils I’ve got on the shelves. This is hell. If I run out of toilet paper I’ll have to use one of my Aikido belts to wipe my ass.

About 10 hours ago via web

I’m still sitting on the toilet. I’m starting to regret that last double cheeseburger now. Shit will literally not stop hurtling out of my ass. Will this terror ever end?

About 9 hours ago via web

I’ve been sitting on the toilet now for over 3 hours. My asshole feels raw and my thighs are plastered to the seat. I can’t feel my legs anymore. Somebody help me. Please.

About 7 hours ago via web

Enlightening stuff, huh? And to think I was against Twitter…