Ping Pong Playa
(Watch the preview)

I’ll concede the humor in naming the main character “Wang,” the easiest Chinese name to joke about. I acknowledged the same cheap laugh in an earlier post.

But I disagree with the assertion that Wang “walks the walk” or “talks the talk.” Not only because a more conventional way to prescribe one’s legitimacy does not exist, but also because his on-screen actions prove it untrue. Emphasized by a prolonged “waazuuuuup,” Wang’s “walk” hasn’t been cool since Monday Night Football in 1999, when that fad began and ended on a Budweiser spot. It is akin to Wang walking to a room and asking, “Shall we shag now, or shall we shag later, baby?” in his best British accent (MTL). What a culture vulture!

His shit-talking is hardly legitimate either, especially given its context: Playing basketball against 12 year-old children. What more convenient outlet for your NBA Jam punch lines than a pickup game against kids half your size? Not to mention when he’s on offense he denies the youngster's attempt to properly defend him. Baller.

What shame his perfect life was inconvenienced by the aftermath of his mother’s auto wreck. The perfection that was sleeping all day on the floor surrounded by garbage, using a beanbag for a pillow and pushing a grotesquely undersized, lawnmower engine-powered crotch-rocket about town, was no longer. Taunting little kids after dominating them in sports was the only remaining facet. That’s what it means to be a Ping Pong Playa, I guess, to annihilate children’s confidence while vacuuming their enjoyment out of sport. (Note: Mickle Jickens had a similar nemesis as young’n running at the Glencoe Community Center. How did he turn out? A musician.)

And for all you Iowans, Hollywood still thinks you’re ignorant pieces of shit, even though you caucused Obama in.

“Because life isn’t the only thing that’s short,” declares the announcer. True, like this movie’s run in theaters, I pray.