TRUST ME WHEN I SAY THIS IS MUCH MORE ANNOYING TO ME THAN TO YOU BUT WHAT CAN YOU DO THIS IS THE INTERNET AND YOU KNOW WHAT’S COOL JUSTIN TIMBERLAKEBERG? A BILLION THINGS GOING WRONG IN A DAY!
http://hamsterdam415.wordpress.com/
March Madness is one of the few events that forces obsessive sports fans to share our world with non-sports fans. Normally we are insulated from them—wrapped up in the safety of our precious stat blogs and late night Big Sky conference games where the uninitiated dare not tread.
Don’t mess with Monte
March Madness, though, is something that everybody participates in. For example, I don’t know a thing about the personal life of the 43-year-old secretary in my office. I’m surprised I even know her name. But I know that last year she picked Butler to go to the Final Four in her bracket. Like most obsessive sports fans I know, I tolerate discussing March Madness with non-sports fans with a grudging politeness, nodding as they make ignorant statement after ignorant statement and hoping it will all end soon. No more! Here are some things I plan on saying to the ignorant non-sports fans who dare discuss March Madness with me this year.
Joe Lunardi is always wrong (and is basically a white-collar criminal)
Joe Lunardi and his “bracketology” have become ubiquitous during the college basketball season. So much so that people have gone from viewing his bracketology projections as a fun exercise intended to spark discussion and educate people on the tournament selection process to viewing them as Gospel. “Lunardi has us as a three seed in Cleveland this week, better look into flights.” “Lunardi has us matched up with Duke in the sweet 16, I can’t wait!” NO. When Lunardi says these things, he isn’t predicting what will actually happen. He is doing a mock selection process to give fans a rough idea of (a) where their team stands and (b) what might be going through the heads of the selection committee. Lunardi doesn’t help the misconception that he is a fortune-teller by being an insufferable douche on television and in his columns. But the biggest proof that Lunardi doesn’t know the future is how he gets a leaked version of the REAL bracket from the selection committee before it is announced on TV, and then “updates” his “predictions” to match what the selection committee has decided. Seriously, he does that every year with a straight face. If you get inside information about a corporation and use that knowledge to your benefit on the stock market you get sent to prison for insider trading. I’m not saying Joe Lunardi should be indicted for being a douche, but if you want to forward this blog post to the Securities and Exchange Commission I won’t stand in your way.
People who brag about victories on alternate brackets are scum
Obama explaining to Andy Katz why he is scum
Everybody loves to talk about how great they are doing in their bracket pool or about a great upset they picked. There’s nothing wrong with that. But there is something wrong with filling out 10 different brackets and acting like you are Joe Fucking Lunardi when you happened to pick an improbable first round upset or Cinderella run to the sweet 16 in one of them. You see, for obsessive sports fans, the bracket is serious business. We agonize over our selections. We analyze the stats, the rosters, the head to head match-ups, the star player’s relationship status on facebook. We might fill out an alternate bracket or two, but we know that bragging about obscure victories is verboten. If someone brags to you about an alternate bracket, put it to them this way: would you go to a roulette table at a casino, put down chips on all of the numbers, and then celebrate when you inevitably hit one? Use that perfect analogy, or just call them scum.
Real fans are doing NIT brackets this year
The above statement is patently false. But this is a card you can play to really put a non-sports fan in their place. The NIT was once a premier tournament almost on par with the NCAA tournament. Decades of expansion by the NCAA tournament have left the current NIT as a forgotten also-ran. People only watch the NIT if their team is unfortunate enough to have been invited, and possibly not even then. So Mr. or Ms. Non-sports fan comes up to you excited to talk about his or her bracket and how great March Madness is, and you reply that the NIT is where the real action is. Pretty much anyone can (and does) fill out a bracket for the NCAA tournament. Filling out NIT brackets is only for the true diehard fans of the game of college basketball. They’ll walk away from you crestfallen and will be afraid to talk about sports (or anything) with you ever again. Until their fantasy football draft.
I’m not sure about you, readers, but I’ve been leery about the recovery of the American economnomnomy. Yes, the Dow Jones has crept back up, but it still seems like we’re a long way from making it rain on other countries again. Homes sales are down throughout the country, federal, state, and local governments are running huge deficits, and Britney’s still probably a good two years away from once again dominating the pop charts. Truly a gloomy period in American history.
Angry about the economy? Call your congressman and tell them it’s Britney, bitch.
But just because times are rough doesn’t mean you can’t make that dollar go father. A good way to do this is to live with your parents and suckle on their steady income teet until you’re, say, 41. Another, slightly cooler way is to check out a government auction.
If there’s one thing I hate it’s everything. Under this umbrella of “everything” is the discussion of the differences between men and women. I’m not sure there is anything more tedious than reading about how men masturbate differently or how women react to bad news depending on their menstrual cycle and the moon’s orbit. Obviously, since I hate the discussion of gender studies, I will write 700 words about it.
You may encounter situations in your life for which there is no possible preparation. Luckily, movies are a great substitute for real-life experience. In Film School, we look at what television and movies can teach us about these unexpected scenarios.
Due to a series of poor decisions on your part, you may one day find yourself forced to coach a team of ragtag little losers as they struggle to compete in a sport that they’re not good at and you don’t like. Oh well, children’s sports seasons aren’t that long, just wait out the series of humiliating defeats until your community service/professional/family obligations are satisfied.
But then the stakes are raised. A side bet of some kind is made. Something important is on the line. Now you need to transform these nerds and fatties into a team of winners. What do you do? As always, let’s turn to Hollywood for the answers.
So many reluctant coaches. So many terrible children to whip into shape.
Hockey: The Mighty Ducks
“Hahaha…we’re terrible.”
Summary: Emilio Estevez, otherwise known as Charlie Sheen’s less-winning, less-bleach snorting brother, stars as defense attorney and jerk (you can tell from the slicked back hair) Gordon Bombay. When he’s arrested for drunk driving, he’s sentenced to coach the local PeeWee hockey team because he’s clearly a great role model who, if anything, should be spending more time around children.
When he meets the team, he realizes that they have no equipment, no uniforms, no hockey skills and no believing in themselves. So he gives them all of that.
“My confidence now outweighs my abilities ten-fold! I feel like I could be governor of Alaska right now.”
He gets his lawyer boss, Mr. Ducksworth (ha!), to sponsor the team in order to get them uniforms and equipment, and they henceforth become the Ducks. Then he gets the team to believe in themselves by…gerrymandering the districts so that he can steal the star player from another team.
“Wow, that’s a real dick move, Coach.”
The team, now armed with someone who can actually play hockey, goes on to beat their arch nemesis the Hawks. The Hawks, coincidentally, happened to be Gordon’s team when he played PeeWee hockey. It was their mean coach that made Gordon feel so badly about missing a penalty shot that he gave up hockey forever and was forced to become a rich attorney instead. But with the Hawks and their evil coach soundly defeated, the curse is lifted and Gordon decides to quit his job and try out for a minor league hockey team. What an inspirational and misguided career move.
Lesson Learned: No matter how good your uniforms look or how much believing in yourselves you do, you are going to need at least one kid who can actually play the sport at hand. Think one player can’t make that much of a difference? Ask the Cleveland Cavaliers.
And when you have to bench a terrible kid or two to make room for the talent, just explain to these kids that if your team wins, everyone gets a trophy whether they played or not. If these kids are as bad at life as they are at sports, they’re going to need to learn the art of coattail riding. Teach them young.
Soccer: Ladybugs
Can we all take a moment to appreciate what the extras in the background are wearing? The early nineties were truly the golden age of fashion.
Summary: Rodney Dangerfield plays Chester, a man so desperate for a promotion that he tries to get on his boss’ good side by pretending to share his love of soccer. But he does such a good job pretending that his boss pressures him into coaching his daughter’s soccer team, the Ladybugs. If they win the season, Chester could get that promotion. Yup, just how regular business is done. Has anyone in Hollywood actually had a job before?
Chester quickly learns that the team is terrible. With his promotion riding on the success of this girls soccer team (again, what?), he convinces his girlfriend’s son, Matthew, to dress up as a girl and join the team.
Jonathan Brandis, R.I.P.
“Martha” turns out to be the star player and helps turn the team around, even becoming close friends with the boss’ daughter. But when Chester’s girlfriend finds out about the situation, she makes Matthew quit the team right before the championship game. Oh no, how can the Ladybugs beat a team of girls if all they have is girls? They can’t, it seems. They’re down by three at the half, when “Martha” shows up to reveal that she is actually a dude.
After some Crying Game-style puking, everyone is inspired to get back out there and play their hearts out. The Ladybugs win the game, Chester gets his promotion, and the boss’ daughter quickly gets past the whole cross-dressing thing and starts going out with Matthew.
Lesson Learned: Listen, ladies, we’re good at a lot of things. We can have babies, graduate from college at higher rates than men and make the most delicious sandwiches. But we can’t play sports. We let our emotions get in the way of strategy and our brains aren’t big enough to hold all of the rules. So if you find yourself in charge of coaching a team of girls, you need to find yourself a boy. Preferably one with a delicate bone structure that can put on an unconvincing high-pitched voice.
Football: Little Giants
Summary: Rick Moranis plays Danny O’Shea, who has lived his whole life in the shadow of his brother, Al Bundy, who is a local hero and coach of the town’s PeeWee football team, the Cowboys. But when Danny’s daughter Becky, aka “Icebox,” tries out for the Cowboys, she gets cut from the team even though she’s really good. Al Bundy explains that, because she’s a girl, everyone’s worried that she’ll get stumped by a math problem on the way to a game and miss it.
After getting cut, Becky convinces her dad to start a new team called “The Little Giants” to include all the kids who were cut from the Cowboys. Unfortunately, PeeWee football operates under the same rules as the Highlander so there can only be one. The two teams decide to compete in a playoff game to determine who will be Urbania’s team.
The day of the game comes and the whole town shows up to watch for some reason. Apparently Urbania is the most boring place on earth because there is no way all of these people have kids in this game, and who wants to watch children’s sports if you don’t have to? Anyway, the kids play and the Little Giants are losing terribly by halftime. This is partly because Becky, their quarterback, got some pretty sexist advice from her uncle and decided to become a cheerleader instead of playing.
But after an inspirational speech from their coach and Becky’s realization that no amount of spelling words loudly could help her team as much as having an actual quarterback, she joins the team and they come out of halftime ready to win. They pull some trick plays, fake an incident of rabies and fart at the other team. And it works! They win the game.
Lesson Learned: If you don’t have access to a kid who can actually play or, God forbid, your best player is a girl, then you’re going to need to get creative. Find out what these terrible athletes are good at and figure out how to use those skills to your advantage. Have a nerdy kid on your team? He might be good at strategy. A gassy kid? Point him at the other team and let him fart away. Think outside the box.
Unrelated lesson: I certainly hope that it’s too late for Hamsterdam readers to learn this lesson, but here’s something to tell your children. Be nice to the tomboys in your class.
Becky “Icebox” O’Shea: Then and now
Of course, it doesn’t always work out that way. I was pretty nerdy back in school, and I grew up to look just as expected.
Good thing I’m funny!
Baseball: The Bad News Bears
Functional alcoholics make the best role models.
Summary: Walter Matthau plays Morris Buttermaker, former baseball manager and current drinker, who is recruited to coach a new Little League team, the Bears, that is composed of all of the players that were cut from other teams. After their first game, where the Bears give up 26 runs without recording a single out, Morris realizes the situation calls for drastic measures.
Those drastic measures are to go out and recruit two people who can actually play. With them on their team, the Bears start winning games and, amazingly, make it to the championship. That game turns out to be ruthless, and after watching their opponents’ coach freak out on his own son, Morris decides that what really matters is the love of the game. So he pulls his best players to give the benchwarmers a chance to play and they…lose. Obviously. But they win the league title in fun!
Lesson Learned: Go ahead and ignore the previous rules. Make it about fun, give everyone an equal chance to play, worry about players’ feelings. But know this: you will lose.
Overall Lesson/tl;dr: Above all else, believe in yourselves. Unless you want to win, in which case, above all else, get some talent on your team.
It’s expensive to see movies. It’s not expensive to watch the trailers, guess what it’s about and try to review them. Here’s what’s opening this week.
I hate everything about this trailer. E-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. I hate that Rango is wearing a Hawaiian shirt. I hate that it looks like Western. I hate that he stumbles into the town and then has to become a Sheriff. I hate that animals are talking. I hate that it’s animated. I hate that Johnny Depp is talking. I hate that it’s going to be released in several thousand theaters. I hate that children will like it. I hate the name “Rango.” I hate foreigners. I hate that this movie will be released on DVD and children will watch it many times over because parents don’t want to hear their kids talk. I hate the sequel. I hate that I hate it so much. I hate that money will exchange hands so people will watch. I hate Rango.
We just had what was the 7-layer burrito of weekends, complete with all the intestinal discomfort you could ask for.
Yes, folks, the NFL combine sailed into the harbor with its flag at full mast, and I was there, ready to receive the shipment.
“Wait, Mr. nomics!” you whine, in that nagging voice you can’t help but use, “There were a lot of important things happening in the world this past week! Riots in the Middle East! Wisconsin budget battles! The Oscars!” Seriously, your voice is like fingernails in a pencil sharpener.
But you make a compelling point. There are very, very few things less productive than sitting back and evaluating potential career paths of huge, muscular men based on a bench press or a high jump. So let’s go a little bit country, and a little bit rock & roll on this one. The Current Events Combine!
I finished reading “Helter Skelter” over the weekend. Pretty cool book if you enjoy the feeling of hating humanity. However, it has given me the genius idea that I need to start a cult as soon as possible (ASAP).
What I like about cults is the brainwashing aspect. People make brainwashing out to be some horrible thing but if you really aren’t a fan of your brain, is washing cleaning it necessarily a bad thing? I say no. You say yes? YOU DARE DEFY ZOD!?!?!
It’s expensive to see movies. It’s not expensive to watch the trailers, guess what it’s about and try to review them. Here’s what’s opening this week.
Welcome back to the Jersey Shore Power Rankings. After a two week absence, we’re offering up a double dip to make it up to you. Last week’s episode again featured a lot of poo-talk, which we’ve been over before. We’ve also now entered the post-Sammi era, right? Wrong. Fuck. Sammi apparently has better staying power than Brett Favre and Jason Vorhees combined. So let’s jump right in and get down to business.
The episode opens with The Situation consoling a distraught Ronnie and discussing how awesome he is. You know, for a change.
Sorry for missing out on last week, we drank too much and our butt was bleeding so we were in the hospital. A lot has gone down in the meantime. Ronnie and Sammi are no more HOOOORAAAYYYY!!!! That’s the good news. The bad news is that while their breakup was hilarious and I’m glad it happened, it was also pretty horrifying. Ronnie is clearly destined for some serious domestic violence and we can look forward to seeing his name in the Mitchell Report of Reality TV, right alongside half the cast of the Real World/Road Rules Challenge. We haven’t seen that much violence and crying since we found out they weren’t renewing Kid Nation. Before moving on to the most recent episode, let’s take a quick look back at what happened last week.
The return of Ron Ron Juice!!!
“How could you sit there and look me in the face, watch me cry, and lie to my face?”
“Which time?” Ronnie Ortiz-Magro, Esquire.
Sammi dropping bombs.
“Be a woman and man up!”
“I can’t concentrate with all this fighting. They’re talking about relationships and my sneakers are dirty!”
“They’re gonna bang like, soon.”
“Sammi’s like a f****** spider monkey climbing on the bed, with a pit bull lock.”
Deena - “You get the front and I’ll get the back.” Snooki - “You would want the back. Oh wait, that’s me.”
“He had camel toe going on with his penis and everything.” Great work by this idiot to sign off on letting himself be humiliated on national television. Also, if there’s one thing we’ve learned from our years and years of trying to pick up dumb chicks on the boardwalk during the day, it’s that they LOVE Jack Daniels.
We will now begin the photo montage of Ronnie going insane. Presented without comment:
Aaaaaand…scene.
That’s all we have to say about that. Now on to the rankings and a picture that I think is funny.
8. Sammi
The witch is dead(for now) but that burp mid-argument was her greatest moment.
7. Ronnie
Some pretty reprehensible actions this week but damn, for a total moron, the kid has a way of turning any argument to make himself look better.
6. Deena
She’s sort of settled into her role as Snooki’s sidekick.
5. Snooki
Ew. I love you tho.
4. The Situation
One of my favorite things about Mike is that he is 100% convinced that he is a genius. As we will see next week, he thinks that he is the perfect fit for any role. Watching him play both sides of the SamRon saga and try to play some sort of therapist for Ron was great.
3. Vinny
Vinny didn’t have too much to do this week, but he’s just so good at everything he does.
2. JWOWW
I’m really enjoying her relationship with Roger more than I thought I would. You could argue that Drunk JWOWW is the funniest character.
1. DJ Pauly Delvecchio
Without a doubt, consistently the funniest member. He toes the line perfectly between laughing at everyone else (except Vin) and laughing along with them. He’s constantly making jokes at their expense and his own, which is why he seems to be beloved by everyone. He also had what may have been the line of the year as Sammi was about to leave the house for good…
“Cabs are here!”
It’s been an exciting week here in America. Cheese-heads are protesting in Wisconsin, NBA players are jumping over cars, and Congressmen are sending creepy pictures all over the internet.
Furries deserve representation too! [Ed. Note: No, they don’t]
But in case you haven’t been paying attention, some wild stuff is happening over on the other side of the world. In the wake of the overthrow of regimes in Tunisia and Egypt, protesters across the Middle East and Africa are taking to the streets calling for democratic reforms.
Nowhere have these protests taken a more serious turn than in Libya. Reports out of Libya have been sketchy, but in various places it has been reported that tens of thousands of people are in the streets, that there are mass defections of Libyan diplomats and military figures to the sides of the protesters, that the military and mercenaries were attempting to brutally suppress the protests, and entire swaths of the country are no longer under government control.
One thing we do know is that to defuse the situation and convince his people to chill out, Muammar Gaddafi, Libya’s dictator for 41 years, gave an internationally televised speech.
You’re driving along, feeling pretty good about yourself. It’s a beautiful day, and you’ve got your NOW That’s What I Call Music! 84 album blasting the latest Ke$ha song (by the way, in this scenario, you are a tool). But as traffic slows, you notice that people around you aren’t in quite as good moods. Glaring, shaking their heads, sneering with disgust - all, it seems, in your direction.
What’s going on?
Who knows, really. They could be having bad days, sick of being in the car, late for something important. But if you have one of the following accessories on your car, then this collective scorn may well be directed at you. And, I’m sorry to say, you deserve it.
Name this movie and you win my undying respect.
5. Decals/custom paint jobs
The Ed Hardy Smart Car: For the douchebag who has everything
If you have gone so far as to get flames, or stars, or an Ed Hardy design painted on your car, then I’m sure I’m not the first person to tell you that you are the worst. And if I am the first, then I hate to say it, but your friends are the worst, too. You need to repaint your car and get better friends.
4. Underbody lights
Oh my God, it’s a UFO! Wait, no, it’s just a crappy car with some lights under it. My mistake.
I’m not totally clear on why this is a thing, but I’ve said the same thing about the other two phenomena to gain popularity after they appeared in Fast and the Furious, Vin Diesel and Paul Walker. I actually went so far as to search in car forums for why people do this, and the only answer I could find to the question “Why?” was “Because it looks mad hot.” So that at least explains why people glare at you. Because they assume you are just like that guy.
3. Truck nuts
Hmm…the metaphor is still a little unclear…
I don’t understand how we live in a world where two gay men holding a baby gets a family shield “to protect the children,” but it’s cool for those same children to see a silver scrotum hanging from a passing vehicle. Florida is the only state to even attempt a ban on this accessory, but the legislation only succeeded in creating a lot of “America’s wang bans nuts” jokes and eventually the effort died out.
I just hope that people come to their senses before they take this metaphor to its logical conclusion:
2. Lift kits
“Whoa, that guy must be really well-endowed.” - Everyone, in this driver’s imagination
Let’s get one thing straight about lift kits. I do not understand them. So if there’s a perfectly logical reason for someone to drive a car at the same height as a bus or low-flying aircraft, then I apologize. But from my close-to-the-ground perspective, you look like a jerk. A jerk who is hard to see around.
1. Bumper stickers
Look, guy, if the Rapture happens I’ve got a lot more to worry about than a few unmanned minivans. I’ve signed up to watch dozens of your pets.
I hate bumper stickers. I don’t care what they say, what they support, or whether I am in total agreement on the subject. You could be driving around with a bumper sticker that says, “I enjoy pizza and the movies of Bill Murray” and I would still think you are a jag.
I’ve been thinking long and hard about why I have such a visceral negative reaction to them in the 20 minutes that I’ve been writing this blog post, and I think I’ve finally figured it out.
There are almost seven billion people in the world. I have meaningful relationships with, let’s say, 50 of them. That means that I care about the opinions, values and perceptions of .000000737% of the global population. So not only do I not care about what the driver of the Toyota Corolla in front of me feels about the stimulus plan, it bothers me that he even wants to tell me.
I will not be swayed by your pithy pro-gun sentiments, no matter how bulletproof the logic of “If guns kill people, do pencils misspell words?” is. I also do not need to know that you are the proud owner of an Irish Setter that you believe to be smarter than my honor student. All I need to know is why you’ve been going 40 in the left lane with your right blinker on for 15 miles. So if you had a bumper sticker that says, “I am a bad driver” or “I’m not paying any attention” then I would still hate you, but at least the information would be accurate and relevant.
If you ask a kid why they love Saturdays, you’ll probably get one of two responses:
The average kid is stupid on a number of fronts (can’t perform surgery, can’t drive, can’t hold down a steady job), but they usually understand the concept of “Saturday” pretty well. A whole day dedicated to doing whatever you want, and a whole morning dedicated to cartoons and sugary indoctrination.
The Jets: fun-lovin’ Kool Aid endorsers, or actual musicians? You decide.
I had what was likely a stereotypical (not in the racist way) Saturday morning routine for a child of the 80s/90s: wake up at 7am, grab a bowl of cereal, and spend the next 5 hours glued to the television. Cartoons were your other teachers, the ones you didn’t mind seeing Saturday morning, and whose only homework requirements were to play with action figures following each episode.
Clockwise, from top left: Reading, Social Studies, Recess, and BASIC.
Often, cartoons imparted valuable life lessons upon us, some even going as far as to include PSAs. Unfortunately, I don’t know of even one that included the most important advice a child can ever receive: don’t be an asshole.
Cartoons were chock full of assholes. Know-it-alls, slimeballs, show-boaters, and talking animals - I could go on for weeks. Hell, most of the assholes were technically the good guys. We here at Hamsterdam decided to highlight a few that make for good representatives of the whole bunch. Jerks.
Ace McCloud (Centurions)
Identified as: Daring air operations expert
Telltale asshole signs: playboy attitude, sarcasm, flight capabilities
The dish: Looking back on this show, Ace’s devil-may-care attitude probably made it harder for the team to apprehend Doc Terror. This should’ve been a miniseries, but somehow was extended to 65 episodes. Why give a guy a jetpack and missiles if he’s going to be lackadaisical for 64 of them? This only ended up reinforcing my notion that I wouldn’t have to work as hard as everyone else since I was also blond.
Orson Pig (U.S. Acres, Garfield and Friends)
Identified as: Pig; leader of the farm animals
Telltale asshole signs: worrywart, stickler for the rules, avid reader
The dish: I’ll be damned if I can identify a more persnickety character in the Saturday morning cartoon lineup. Remember the kid that would remind the teacher that homework is due? His middle name was probably Orson, or at least Pig. Orson was always concerned about doing things the right way - a 180 from Ace McCloud, which probably makes him an even bigger asshole. If you have a friend try to lead you down the path to righteousness through either fable or fairy tale, tell them to keep their kindle to themselves.
Beavis and Butt-head (Beavis and Butt-head)
Identified as: “the tall one” and Cornholio.
Telltale asshole signs: moronic behavior, disgusting behavior, violent behavior…well, just a lot of behavioral problems.
The dish: Few cartoons are worthy of commentary extending outside the show itself, but I think Beavis and Butt-head merits it. This is one of only a handful of cartoons that I would characterize as “revolutionary” - and there honestly hasn’t been anything like it since. Innovative and willing to take on the establishment, both of which I like. And while those are positives, this show seemed to harness something very, very awful in its audience. Mike Judge basically turned an entire generation of teenagers into idiots in the mid-90s with characters that showed an affinity for poop jokes, heavy metal, violence, and pyromania. He has to shoulder at least some of the blame for that. I give kids these days a lot of old man gruff for their hip-hop and their Twilight, but imagine being a parent 15 years ago and having to deal with a son that aspired to be like this. These guys are definitely high on the asshole list.
Bluegrass (Silverhawks)
Identified as: Colonel Bluegrass; the cowboy.
Telltale asshole signs: Seriously?
The dish: Fashion statements have a way of going horribly awry in space. But this one takes the cake. It’s almost like an animator traveled back in time 25 years to bring us the superhero equivalent of George W. Bush. There are like five separate levels of ridiculousness packed into this single character. I can’t even look away.
1. Panic
It’s expensive to see movies. It’s not expensive to watch the trailers, guess what it’s about and try to review them. Here’s what’s opening this week.
I know everyone tries to marginalize Dave Chappelle by calling him “crazy” but I enjoyed his questioning of why every black actor eventually dresses up like a woman for a movie. While he never says directly “why” he thinks it happens so often, I will; seeing a black man stripped of his masculinity is for funny for Americans regardless of race. Now, I don’t think everyone seeing Big Momma is a racist (they do have bad taste) but there needs to be an underlying reason why EVERY gifted black comic has tried on a dress, right? A stereotype, one that black America somewhat perputrates, is that black men are super-masculine; they are athletic, have huge dongs, and don’t mind getting into a fight so to see them stripped of all of these things is hilarious? Perhaps, I don’t really know, it’s just weird in 2011 there’s this genre of movie that still exists and that people, both black and white, are a fan of it. PS: This looks like a soul abortion.
You may encounter situations in your life for which there is no possible preparation. Luckily, movies are a great substitute for real-life experience. In Film School, we look at what television and movies can teach us about these unexpected scenarios.
According to Hollywood and daytime talk shows, there is a decent chance that at some point in your life you will end up living with, married to, or pretending to be married to someone you despise. These chances go up astronomically if you’re a strong, independent, career-minded woman over the age of 30 or an irresponsible, fun-loving guy.
And while loveless marriages may not sound funny, they are a goldmine for phoned-in romantic comedies. Let’s look at a few of these films and examine what they can teach us about marriage, love, and the ridiculous reasons people find themselves in both.
It’s hard to tell who I feel worse for because it’s hard to decide who I hate more.
Allow me to wax philosophical for a moment. According to my very precise calculations,
1. There was some measure of time during which I hadn’t yet been born
2. There is some measure of time in which I will cease to be.
Between these two large bosoms of nothingness, I motorboat my way through this thing called existence, doing primarily one thing: hanging out on the internet, writing emails.
If “online” was a house, this would be your front porch. And I think I just saw a kid light a bag of poo on fire.
I’ve coped with the fact learned that being great at email will not earn one fame, fortune, or love outside of Nigeria. It’s a shame, really, because I’m easily a top-10 emailer on Earth.
If you’re not familiar with email, it’s not because of some great technological and economic divide preventing your undeveloped state from building enough infrastructure to provide internet service. No, it’s because you are younger than 15 and you are busy as hell texting your bff.
brb g2g fail mth tst lolz ^o^
Email is baseball to texting’s football. A Bordeaux to texting’s shots. Not always better, but it requires more patience, and a willingness to observe and learn. Once you realize that internet shorthand only gets you so far, you too can become good at email, like me. Soon you will be CC’ing with the best of them.
I’ve identified the greatest hurdles to email stardom. I’m not afraid to tell it like it is, get you all the facts, so that you can eventually learn how to paypal me money. In the meantime, consider this an IOU.
And now, your biggest obstacles to becoming good at email:
1. You join mailing lists.
This cartoon has no legs and it is freaking me out.
Once in a while, you decide it will benefit you to share your email address with some type of business or organization. Question: is 10% off a Southwestern Skillet-Fried Asian Salad at Ruby Tuesday’s really worth the twice-daily email blast? Well, at least you can eat that crap. Try justifying daily emails from Pottery Barn. You can’t.
I get at least 10 of these email blasts from random companies and organizations each week. It’s basically the email hydra: as soon as you unsubscribe from one, two more pop up. If you get more than 10, your life is over. And you are automatically signed up for the Bad@email Club. “But I’m the one receiving those emails!”, you say.
2. You forward emails.
Seriously, don’t do this. You have no idea how awful you make life for others.
3. You are old.
1337 grandmas, because 1336 wouldn’t be enough.
As adisclaimer, I just want to reiterate that kids are the absolute worst when it comes to any form of communication. But if you spent at least 30 years of your life not using the internet, chances are that you’re not very good at email. Personal emails have a style all their own - looser than a handwritten letter, and less awkward than a phone call every 6 months. Older internet users can’t seem to grasp this. Emails from older people follow one of three paths:
Again, all are an improvement over texting. But that’s a low bar to set. You’re probably just better off calling at this point.
4. You have a Blackberry.
When you send email from a portable device, it is a recipe for failure. That’s how texting was invented, you know. Yes, you can afford a nice phone, or maybe you have a prestigious job to be tied to a Blackberry at all times. But something’s got to give. And that something in 99% of all cases is your ability to spell, manage simple sentence structure, or spend longer than 30 seconds responding.
I know what you’re thinking…and yes, you are a racist.
Basically, it boils down to this: if you’re not going to bother to sit down to compose an email, you won’t care about any of the subtleties that change writing from simple communication into an artform.
5. You are filing a complaint.
A great way to diminish your email performance is to be angry. Even when you’ve had time to flesh out a letter complaining about a product or service, you come off as an unlikeable, unsympathetic ninny. Yea, a ninny. It doesn’t matter if your 1337 grandmother just got botulism - don’t email Campbell’s about expired soup. No good can come of this. Ha! No good can - get it?
Well, that’s about it for the free tips. Feel free to text me your comments and thoughts. Or maybe just call? You never call anymore.
It’s Valentine’s Day, and commercialism love is in the air. But sometimes that love is expressed through music that crosses the thin line between romance and total insanity. Here are my picks for the ten most disturbing love songs of all time.
10. Every Breath You Take - The Police
There’s not much to say that hasn’t already been said about Sting’s Ballad of the Stalker, but I had to include it on this list because it really is one of the most genuinely alarming songs to ever break the top 40.
Cringiest line: “Can’t you see, you belong to me
And how my poor heart aches, with every breath you take.”
I could definitely see that line written in blood at the scene of a murder-suicide.
