Dear Celebs: to Infinity and Beyond

Back to the well?

Back to the well.

I don’t know why I never have anything ready. I do two or three of these every week. It’s not like I’m surprised.

Anyway, here’s more of me whining at the beautiful people.
tha beautiful peepaahl/ tha beautiful peepaaahl

Dear Natalie,

Wow. I Fuck everybody who gets to even be in the same room with her.

Baby. You know I love you. I stuck with you through good times (the Professional) and bad times (those ones that looked like Star Wars but weren’t actually Star Wars).

God is dead.

I just can’t help but feel a little betrayed that you insist on dating people who aren’t me. First it’s all these greasy dudes from crappy bands and now it’s Princess Buttercup here.
Just when it can’t get any worse, I find out you’re pregnant and engaged?

I swear to God, if you don’t straighten up and fly right, I may not let you fuck me. I hate to use the nuclear option on you, girl, but you’re not leaving me a lot of options.

I keep hearing all this gossip about how he’s the Kevin Federline of the ballet set which means two things, 1.) he sucks. 2.) he gon’ get faaaaaat.

Also, he’s one of the best ballerinos in the world, right? That’s how he got the gig on the Black Swan, by being one of the best. You went to Harvard, and had several papers published in scientific journals while you were still in high school. You’re probably the smartest person in Hollywood.

Once the joy and thrill of this affair wears off, guess what? He’s not going to have a lot to say. You don’t become the best at something by being a socially conscious, well-read, and balanced individual. You do it by focusing like a goddamn laser on the thing you want to be the best at, and if you want to talk about jumping and shit all day, great, but if you’d like to discuss foreign policy, lobbyists essentially destroying any real attempts to go green, the poor attention span of the public regarding things like the BP spill which is still an ongoing disaster, you may to look in a different direction. A Matt-lier direction, if you will.

I’m already fat. I’m already poor. I already read a lot. I literally can only go up from here. My potential for growth and development at every conceivable angle is quite literally infinite.

If a lifetime of being a dork and TV addict has taught me anything it’s that 1.) you should always believe whatever bad talk you hear about the pretty cocky guy, and 2.) girls love a project. Frankly we’re a bungled grand romantic gesture and him outing himself as a jerk away from being together forever, so why not just skip it?

I love Boy Meets World as much as the next guy (actually probably more [actually, there’s no ‘probably.’]) but we can skip that, and the “will they or won’t they” part. I mean, why fight fate?

*goes to*
*reads Natalie Portman is vegan*

Oh. Wow. Shit.

Lots of luck with your malnourished vegan baby, baby.



Dear Mila,
Yo, girl, what’s good?

That’s great. Listen, baby, do you eat meat?

I mean that on every possible level.


Here’s where I had a giant piece making fun of celebrities who got offended at the Golden Globes by Ricky Gervais. It was pretty mean and I was really proud of it.

However, in between letters, I dicked around on the internet and found out that a lot of the supposed hate was overblown by the media. So I erased it.

I’m just acknowledging it here because I spent a lot of time on it, and it’s probably the only time you were going to see me talk shit about guys like Tom Hanks and Robert Downey Jr.
Dear Pixar,
I love you guys. Truly, I admire everything you’ve done for movies. Not just animation, but movies in general. You’ve made blockbusters with scope, spectacle, emotional resonance, and fully realized characters drawn up from wells long thought dry.

It’s amazing a miracle that you guys exist, let alone are a powerhouse in a world where they’ve approved a movie based on Battleship and Meet the Parents is a franchise. A FRANCHISE.

Lately, however, you guys have been fucking up left and right.

I could watch this movie everyday and never get tired of it.

First off, where in the flying blue Hell are the Incredibles and Finding Nemo on Blu-Ray? The Incredibles is one of the best movies to come out so far in the 21st century, and is probably the closest thing to a great Fantastic Four movie we’ll never get even though Disney, you guys, and Marvel are all involved in some billion-dollar-sick-ass three way.

Just a daisy-chain of corporate synergy fucking, but all the reach-arounds in the world won’t stop them from wanting the guy who directed Taxi to do the fucking reboot.

Finding Nemo is just a good movie that in no way made me cry or anything. At all. Ever. Because I am a man.

...oh...oh God. Here come the tears...swim! Swim you tiny finned bastard!

*does 12 pushups, 7 of them from the knees*

If that’s not enough, Cars 2? If there was anything you guys have done that feels a little bit more like pandering to the kids instead of simply good storytelling done in fashions both classical and innovative, it was Cars. I don’t care if Michael Caine’s in it.

Bad ass.

Some may point out that I might be biased due to working for two years at a summer camp, and we watched Cars every single time it rained, and I might have told my supervisor that I now imagine one hundred kids screaming along to the Rascal Flatts’ cover of “Life is a Highway” is what the damned hear as they march past gates made from broken limbs and into Hell.

Or maybe it’s really because it’s a movie filled with sentient cars who made complex things despite having no arms let alone thumbs. Or maybe it’s really, really because bigger vehicles, who are also people, move around smaller vehicles/people by letting them inside them.

You know with the Transformers, they have arms and and stuff, and they acknowledge that they are like amphibians, a part of two worlds. They are a robot and a vehicle, or an impersonation of a vehicle. It is essentially different from their base form.

The Cars in Cars make no distinction. It’s just the semi-trucks,’ airplanes,’ and helicopters,’ jobs to be violated, over and over again, by a bunch of reverse-birth fetishists.

Sick bastards.

What the hell Pixar?

What? The? Hell?


Dear Russell,

What’s it like?

I bet it’s like having sex with Wonder Woman.

Is it?

I bet it is.

What were we talking about, again?

Tell you what; I’ll see every movie you star in and buy every magazine she’s in if you can talk her into stop singing forever. Seriously, “Fireworks” is fucking garbage. We’re all being punished, and 98% of the population doesn’t realize it.

I feel so alone in this. Like I’m apart from everyone. …is…this…is this what I get for waking up in Vegas?


Oh! Wait! I still got something for Hanks!

Dear Mr. Hanks,



You have a son. You named him Chet.

Just bro'in' out, brah.

He became a rapper.

Mr. Hanks, if you love your son, Chet, beat him. You have to beat your child for his own good.

Have you heard the song?

It’s a rip-off of a rip-off of a shitty song.


Good on him for changing his stage name to Chet Haze, though. No one can claim he’s overtly trading on your name. Sort of like a young Nic Cage taking a stage name instead of going with Coppola. Though to be fair, young Nic Cage was really good at his job. Anyone who doesn’t like Raising Arizona is a Hitler and should be treated as such.

Ha, awesome.

Chet’s rap, however, is the by-product of growing up without anyone telling you the truth. Unfortunately he’s now a grown-ass man, and you won’t be able to reach him.

At least not without a belt. Or a stick. My grandma liked to use a wooden spoon. Really, just follow your heart.

Mr. Hanks, you’re one of my heroes. You’re a fiercely talented comedic actor who made the transition over to celebrated dramatic actor that’s won innumerable awards. Please do not let Chet be the black spot on your record.

To Hell. I would follow this man to Hell and back.

You can’t give the world Forrest Gump, Saving Private Ryan, Big, and Chet Haze.



All right, work’s picking up. I should start paying attention.

See you guys Friday.



About Nonstop Karate

Created by Chad Quandt and Matt Loman Lonely. Online. Angry due to being online and lonely.

Posted on January 19, 2011, in Matt Loman, Movies, Pop Culture and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.

  1. Chet Haze … wow. But if you were in college and knew that writing a song called cream and crimson (great hip hop potential for word play there, BTW) guaranteed you at least one sorority three-way, would you?

    No excuse for his dad for missing this key parenting opportunity – I’m just thinking I can’t blame an overprivileged white kid at NW for putting this out there. What else do you do when you get a recording studio for Christmas?

    **PS: Why no Chet Haze tag? I’m certain he has Google Alerts set up :)

    • I’d rap right now if it meant a three-way, but my dad’s not famous for being amazing at his job.

      Also, I didn’t put in a Chet Haze tag just for that reason.


  2. this is what you should expect if you name a kid “Chet”

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