Monthly Archives: June 2010
A question to ponder: Kentucky Fried Chicken’s founder/god Colonel Sanders was born in 1890, only 25 years after slavery was abolished. The man was born in my home state of Indiana and lived his life in Kentucky. Knowing nothing else about the man’s ethics or his personal views, one could assume that there is at least a CHANCE that Colonel Sanders felt discrimination towards black people based on the time and place he lived. Knowing this, how would Colonel Sanders feel today that his product is an associated stereotype with those he theoretically despised?
This has never been a fair stereotype to force on black people; everyone loves fried chicken. You can’t stick a race for liking something every single member of a species enjoys. You know what? I heard the Vietnamese really enjoy oxygen. That’s the new stereotype: whenever you meet a Vietnamese person, offer them a canister of oxygen usually reserved for the elderly. Perhaps you can give them a young sapling, as that also produces Oxygen.
We’re taking racism off the table today; it’s KFC and the Double Down we’re after. Read the rest of this entry
I can’t really form any coherent thoughts on the matter. What I sat through was atrocious. Not even on a story or acting level, but at the basic level of film-making competence. Things like establishing shots, using any take but the first one, lighting, and others are all just skipped in favor of staring contests between two vapid idiots.
I have so much bile, we’re going to jump the essay format and go to the noblest and laziest presentation style, the LIST.
What is Bella’s problem? Everyone likes her. Everyone. The kids of her high school, who apparently have never dared to even imagine meeting someone from a different state, fall all over themselves to be near her. Every guy she meets wants to date her. Despite this attention and devotion from the boys, every girl wants to be her best friend, ever. I don’t know if Stephanie Meyer’s ever actually interacted with other human beings, but A.) girls aren’t that forgiving, B.) no one in high school is ever warmly welcomed, and C.) if they are, they’re not sullen, miserable little shits who hate everyone and everything around them. What is this well-liked, attractive, and intelligent girl’s fucking problem? Read the rest of this entry
Some people create art with paintings and sculptures; others use eloquent words. One man last year created art by destroying dreams. It seems only fair to recognize his evil genius. A 2009 Pokemon Platinum event in NY was merely a sandbox for him to wreak havoc in.
Look at this man in the middle of his sinister work. That bottle likely contains some horrible combination of piss, water and children’s tears. He is Loki, the Norse God of Mischief, in physical form.
Apparently this is the type of art to bring amazing actors like Sean Connery out of retirement; a skateboarding grandpa who saves badgers from drowning.
The REAL Sean Connery would read this script, make some off-handed innuendo to drowning badgers being like wet vaginas and then punch a guy. I don’t know who this pod person is.
*- “…and so began Jeff and I’s overly complex and hilarious trip to score some more meth. That night we were like the Harold & Kumar of stabbing people at truck-stops.”
*- “I’ll never forget the first time Jeff told me about Suzanne because it was when I was in prison and you don’t forget shit said to you between 8 inches of plexiglass.”
*- “…so this is a story all about how my life got flipped-turned upside down. And I like to take a minute, just sit right there. I’ll tell you about how once Jeff helped me bury a hooker in the woods.”
*- “Last night I had a dream that Suzanne was butt-naked and covered in gravy. She was running around trying to fuck your dad during a Forth of July parade. I got one of those ‘This is so fucked up I’m turned on’ boners. Man it was awesome.”
*- “…while Jeff has just developed a severe allergy to both peanuts and fun, by the end of this wedding I plan on being so deep in a vagina that I need a snorkle. I’m not that picky ladies.”
– Rob Norman is a contributing writer to Nonstop Karate
by Michael Bay
Holy shit, Pixar. All that computing power and know how, and you still manage to create the suckiest one hour and 49 minutes of boring, ever.
It’s not like you can’t do fire. That giant flame at the end of the movie, it was hypnotic, bracing, beautiful, and it kind of made my weiner move in a weird way.
I’m just kidding.
I know I’m sexually attracted to explosions.
And it’s not weird.
You could easily do a slam-bang, rip-roaring, Pete-Hammond-fellating, summer cockbuster in the tradition of America and Bayhem, but, no, I have to watch a gay cowboy try to rescue his boyfriend who’s some kind of raver in a hazmat suit.
Which, homoerotic overtones aside, sounds like a fantastic pitch, but dear Action Jesus, you prissy little girls fucked it up. Read the rest of this entry
If you read the Harry Potter series, you know four things:
1) Those first three books totally wrote in a subtle Harry/Hermoine romance plot that was eventually upended by the Ron/Hermoine love story that now fills erotic fanfiction sites everywhere
2) Harry should’ve been killed off two books in, allowing the series to become Ron Weasley and His Amazing Adventures.
3) There’s a reason why this poster was placed around LA five times more than any of the other Half-Blood Prince ones.
4) Dumbledore was a dick. Oh he was great to Harry and his friends, but if you were any other kid at that school, you were neglected. I’m not talking about fighting the Dark Lord here. I’m talking about these children’s education. Imagine having to spend your young days, THE BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE NO MATTER WHAT ANYONE SAYS AND THAT TIME THAT GIRL LET YOU FEEL HER UP BEHIND THE BUSHES DURING THE YULE BALL WAS AMAZING, trying to educate yourself with constant interruptions by the faculty because Harry got a gold star for that day.
Watch, and understand my point.
And yes, I know Dumbledore is just wearing a rain poncho. What do you want from me? It was college and we had $10 in our budget.