It has recently come to my attention that Joey Buttafuoco is in jail again, having once more violated his probation. Joey was arrested with a large and unnecessary cache of ammunition (what, no guns?) and pled no contest (what, no balls?). Of course. If you have already forgotten, Joseph ‘Joey’ Buttafuoco was the Long Island hot-rod mechanic who fired up an fling with local high school hot-bod, Amy Fisher. This was a garden variety liason that took a nasty turn when the young Amy rang the Buttafuoco doorbell one sunny afternoon in an attempt to persuade Mrs. Buttafuoco, Mary Jo, that the Long Island Lolita’s love for her hypertensive husband was ‘real.’ Mary Jo took it all in stride, like all good L.I. housewives of 275-pound greaseballs, until the capricious Amy put a .38-caliber slug into the side of MJ’s face. Ouch. Come on, you have to remember this shit! It was a made-for-TV special on all three major networks. Two of them were even broadcast simultaneously so only the dedicated and creative could watch all three. This was back on the day, before them there D-V-R’s. Alyssa Milano and Drew Barrymore got rave reviews for their spot-on portrayals of the love-lorn Fisher. Milano had the better accent, of course, having spent all that time with Tony Danza. You have to remember this!
I type this as I watch the thrilling, Cold War-chilling conclusion of Rocky IV on late night television. Classic. I had forgotten how the Soviet crowd started to cheer for the midget American to defeat the 17-foot tall Dolph Lundgren (how did he ever get type-cast as an evil Eastern European?), and the Mikhail Gorbachev-looking character realizes he has lost the hearts and minds of the people. And how about when the cranky old apparatchik storms up to the ring imploring Drago to win for Ivan. Boy did Dolph show him! Picked him right up by the throat, wearing a boxing glove no less, and tossed the Soviet geezer into the uniformed crowd. Glasnost!
Of course all this Hollywood propaganda went for naught when Balboa cut open a vein of solidarity, urging the politburo to come together as one big happy bunch of boxing fans. Brought a goddamned tear to my eye. What happened to bringing the Bear to its knees? What happened to rubbing it in their sad, identical Commie faces? What happened to kicking them when they are down, right in the balls?
Whoa! Somebody forgot to take their meds.
