Randy Quaid
The first time that I saw National Lampoon’s Vegas Vacation, I got so pissed that I threw a brick through my own car window while driving home from the theater. The thing was, I didn’t even care that I had to spend $600 to replace my windshield because I was too busy being so goddamned angry at Randy Quaid.
Remember that part where he takes Chevy Chase into the shitty part of Vegas to try and help him win back all the money he lost? I couldn’t believe that scene made the cut of the movie.
It’s like the editing team was on the cutting floor and said, “Hey, since we’ve made one of the best movies ever, maybe it would be unfair to keep it so awesome.” And then this other guy who worked in there was like, “Remember that scene that we cut earlier where Quaid and Chase go to that broke-ass casino? What if we put that in to like balance out the equation?” Then the first guy goes, “Holy shit… that’s perfect.”
It took me years to get over it, and I actually got a restraining order placed on me because I kept calling his agent in LA demanding that he meet me at the Hard Rock Cafe to eat some fried macaroni and cheese and then get his ass kicked. So for a little bit I figured maybe I ought to just cut it out. Then I saw Independence Day.
First of all, I hate the shit out of outer space. I thought I was going to see a movie about America wasting terrorists and then drinking tall, cool glasses of Budweiser. Apparently, I was misinformed (AKA fucking lied to). The apex of this shitshow of a film was when Quaid, playing his usual dick-nosed ass-master, commandeered a fighter jet and shot his way into the vagina of the alien mothership. In the last moments of this retarded and unimpressive suicide mission, dude yells something to the effect of, “Payback’s a bitch!” Oh yeah, Quaid? I think you’ll probably find that out soon enough.
As you can see, just because Dennis got all the good genes and Randy got the hereditary equivalent of sloppy seconds does NOT mean that he gets to be in movies, too. Quaid is going to be getting his soon enough. So, when I do indeed run into Randy Quaid the next time I’m forced to visit the hell-on-earth that is Los Angeles, CA, here’s what I think will happen:
Fight Length: 4.8 minutes
My Final Move: Probably take a snowglobe covered in olive oil and force it through his ear canal, then smack both his ears hard so it shatters into his brain.
3 years ago • 0 notes