by Dale Nixon
Deposed action star Steven Seagal, most recently known for passing on a crucial trip or two to the salad bar, has accused the Federal Bureau of Investigation of "ruining" his career. The self-styled sensei has accused the Bureau of piloting a smear campaign unseen since ol' J. Edgar Hoover was chasing the Kennedys around his office in high heels.
And Seagal is demanding an apology.
"False FBI accusations fueled thousands of articles saying that I terrorize journalists and associate with the Mafia," Seagal told the newspaper. "These kinds of inflammatory allegations scare studio heads and independent producers -- and kill careers."
Last time I checked (pre-Karl Rove resignation), "terrorizing journalists" was not exactly a violation of the Patriot Act. It's kind of a vague charge anyway.
As for associating with the mafia, it might have been more advantageous to his sagging career to become a Scientologist. At least Tom Cruise would take his calls.
If anything, the current state of Seagal's career should have been entrusted to someone more appropriate to the job, like Dr. Jack Kervorkian. A mercy slaying might have at least been able to save hundreds of trees in scipts alone, along with countless DVD plastic cases.
The carbon offset would be a glorious number, even Al Gore might note the sacrifice favorably, provided that he is not too busy private jetting bands to a global warming concert.
Given the fact that his straight to SpikeTV movies have garnered a slew of "worst of the year" nominations, Seagal should probably be happy anyone is still paying attention. Seagal has been nominated for eight Razzie Awards, including worst actor an unprecedented three times (On Deadly Ground, Fire Down Below, Half Past Dead). He, however, did notch a worst director Razzie for On Deadly Ground.
The plot synopsis of Half Past Dead might give a clue as to the profound level of sub-mediocrity Seagal has attained in recent years, as it is downright impossible to find anyone who admits to having sat through the ponytailed doughboy's oeuvre:
Half Past Dead tells the story of a man (Sascha Petrosevitch? who let this guy loose with a fake Russian accent?) who goes undercover in a hi-tech prison to find out information to help prosecute those who killed his wife. While there he stumbles onto a plot involving a death-row inmate (played by Morris Chestnut) and his $200 million stash of gold.
Wait, it gets better:
A small but well-equipped team of terrorists -- the "49ers" -- have parachuted onto the island and gained control of it.
Was there not a Scooby Doo scriptwriter available to read over the final treatment?
Should Seagal be willing to accept real career advice at this time, here is a 10-step plan to rejuvenate his career:
1) Hang up the career as a faux bluesman. There are already enough insurance agents and lawyers gumming up this paunchy-white-expensive-guitar-collecting-with-a-ponytail profession already. If you can't get anyone decent to photoshop your CD cover, you have already been born under a bad sign.
2) Paint yourself as a conspiracy theorist. Embrace the fringe. Narrate a 9/11 was a Zionist hoax movie.
3) Stop making movies that have scripts written by a combination of Roger Corman and Paul Reubens. A chef on a train? A country-singing environmental agent investigating the dumping of toxic waste in coal mines? An unsuspecting university professor as an unwitting accomplice in a foiled Chinese cocaine deal? Suspension of disbelief is one thing; retarded is another entirely.
4) Run for office. Not governor, but perhaps something smaller like chairman of the Laguna Hills Chamber of Commerce. Little steps.
5) Appear on a network comedy in some sort of self-deprecating role. Hey, it worked for Alec Baldwin. And no, Saturday Night Live doesn't count.
6) Start thinking about a sequel to one of your earlier, more well-received movies. Maybe you can even get a two-fer and revive ex-wife Kelly LeBrock's career. Unless she still has a restraining order against you.
7) Call Michael Ovitz and tell him you are sorry.
8) Skin care products? For a martial artist? Do you think Bruce Lee would have had a line of skin care products? And if that fake oompa-loompa tan on the cover of your record is any indication, no, they aren't working. And can the energy drinks, as well. One note - goji berries are from China, not Tibet. Nice try though.
9) Refrain from taking roles in which the main character sounds like one of Jack Tripper's friends on Three's Company. John Prince? Jonathan Cold? Harlan Banks? Travis Hunter? Austin Travis? Seriously, porn stars come up with better names.
10) Make one last Blaze of Glory movie involving a fight to the end with former box office rival Jean Claude Van Damme. You can even have Bon Jovi write the title song, just under no circumstances are you allowed to do it yourself.
Okay, Steve, that will be 10 percent of your future earnings. You can even paypal me my cut.
