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Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Yippee Ki Yay

Live Free or Die Hard opens in theaters today, so I've put together some scenes from the movie with a little help from the wallpaper-maker feature on the film's website. Now, mind you, I haven't seen the movie yet and I don't exactly know what it's about, but I'm pretty sure the story has something to do with "kicking" and "ass." That said, I suspect my pictures are fairly good representations of what happens in the flick.

"I'm too old for this crap!"


"I'm too old for this crap!"


"I'm too old for this crap!"


"I'm too old for this crap!"


"I'm too old for....
Dude, you are soooo annoying in those Mac ads!"



Tuesday, June 26, 2007

R.I.P. Vince McMahon, Pt. 2

All it takes is a dose of reality and unfortunate timing to turn planned hype into a regrettable mistake. Earlier, I posted an obit on the WWE's "deceased" Vince McMahon, but his fake death was tragically cut short when he emerged to cancel last night's match because one his wrestlers hanged himself after apparently committing a double homicide.

This looks nothing like the dead wrestler,
but like all of wrestling, I'm faking it


There's nothing worse than making light of death by concocting something like the pretend murder of Mr. McMahon, only to have it soured a few weeks later with a real-life murder-suicide. Awkward! That's sorta like when you tell a horribly off-color joke about the Holocaust only to find out that one of the people in the room is actually a Nazi. Wait. Did I phrase that right? Well, the point is, it's hard to make Nazis laugh.

So, with the actual death of wrestler Chris Benoit, the WWE has removed ALL references to Mr. McMahon's fake death (the link in my previous post doesn't go anywhere anymore, but the WWE did keep the McMahon death story online when former WWE wrestler Sherri Martel died a few days after his "demise"). In place of the McMahon storyline, the WWE has posted an awfully defensive rebuttal disputing claims that Benoit's violent freakout was fueled by 'roid rage.

Anyway, I've mentioned death, suicide, a murdered family, Nazis and drugs, so I think I've hit my quota for insensitive, taboo commentary for the day. Whew! At least that gives me more time to work on my cancer-porn post. Tumorotic!

Monday, June 25, 2007

Spoiler Theatre: Fantastic Four - Rise of the Silver Surfer

With so many blockbusters coming out this summer, it's just hard to know which movie to spend your money on. A brand new Die Hard movie? Reserve my seats! Another Pixar cartoon? Sign me up! A new comedy with Robin Williams and Mandy Moore? Change my pants! A sequel to Daddy Day Care? Kill me now!

As a public service, I'm presenting the first installment of "Spoiler Theatre," in which I'll ruin the plot of an entire movie by re-enacting it with toys in a comic strip. Luckily, I can't "ruin" the plot of Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer since the screenwriters were nice enough to do that beforehand...

Click on each page to see it in its full-blown glory, all big-like.


Friday, June 22, 2007

Goodbye, Bobby E

I don't usually do the dead folks posts, because Jason is really the most morbid person on the crew. But this death--this one hit home.

Bob Evans
Sausage King/restaurateur
May 30, 1918 - June 21, 2007

Jenni and Steve mourning outside the Bob Evans closest to the Cleveland airport. Not pictured: Bob Evans in toy form.

Bob Evans, a man who created the best sausage I ever put in my mouth (sorry, Steve), has died. But let's not dwell on his death. Let's celebrate his life--and that freaking delicious sausage. The man's sausage was a thing of beauty. No man, no woman, no child--possibly no creature living on this earth, even the dirty vegetarians--could resist Bob Evans' plump, juicy, perfectly spiced and fragrant tube of meat. I could eat Bob Evans' sausage all night long, and beg for more.

But it's not just the sausage--oooh, the sausage. Bob Evans' sausage empire included hundreds of excellent Bob Evans restaurants in (apparently) 18 states, including, of course, Ohio, where it all started. I remember hearing once that Bob Evans would only ship sausage (and I guess place restaurants) within a short drive from the Bob Evans Farms epicenter, to ensure a quality product. That's great, but it kept Bob Evans restaurants from being out West, where I've lived for seven or eight years. I suppose it's possible that will change now that Bob himself is gone, but in a way I guess I hope not, because I like that a company put quality and customer experience over profits. You know, if that story is even true and I didn't make it up in a sausage-fueled fever dream. I get a little crazy on the sausage.

I look forward to going to Bob Evans every time I'm home (which I just happen to be at the moment), and, in fact, it's typically our first stop when we land. Sometimes, I even order non-sausage food, though it's rare. I loves me some sausage.

Since this post isn't long enough, I'll share a recentish Bob Evans anecdote.

A while back, a few months before Bob Evans went totally smoke-free, I was grossed out by being seated too close to the smoking section, and so, I picked up a crayon and wrote, with my left hand so it would look real, a message somewhat like this:

Dear Bobby E,

I love your food but my mom says we can't eat here anymore because the smoke in the air might make my cancer come back.

Please, Bobby E, get rid of the smokers so I can eat at your restaurant. I love it because my name is Bobby, too.


Love,

Bobby


Hmm. I remember the original being funnier than that. I know there was cancer, the Bobby E thing, and the cancer kid was named Bobby.

Yeah.

Sausage!

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

News Flash: Rich Baby Has Fat Feet!

In an exclusive Father's Day interview in the current issue of gossip rag OK! Magazine, new daddy Larry Birkhead vividly describes how baby Dannielynn looks exactly like her late mom, Anna Nicole Smith.

According to OK!, Birkhead says Dannielynn has "chubby little toes exactly like Anna's." He also goes out on a limb to say that the tot has Anna's legs and lips and that she pouts just like her, too. The baby also has two eyes and a little nose and other baby-like baby features that babies are known to have during babyhood.
As featured in OK! Magazine, the publication that's
proud to shout "We're 'Mediocre!'"

So is Larry saying that Dannielynn is exactly like Anna or is he really trying to say that Anna was exactly like a big, fat baby? I guess pointing out Dannielynn's resemblance to Anna Nicole is a bit more tactful than flat-out saying the baby looks like a giant sack of money in a diaper.

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

More Than Meets the Eye

Now that the Spider-Man and Pirates blitz has subsided a bit, it's time for the Transformers movie frenzy to begin. Somewhere, there's a despondent GoBot out there who's hoping he can stop slumming as a toaster so he can cash in on some Transformers love. Sheesh, they've even inspired their own Mr. Potato Heads like the Spider-Man and Star Wars spuds. Before movie tie-ins existed, it must've been tough back in the olden days when the only outfits available for Mr. Potato head were a sombrero and a felt mustache.
Mr. Potato Head as "Optimash Prime."
He also transforms into hashbrowns and a carb-heavy casserole.


Even without their popularity validated by a tuber likeness, the Transformers are guaranteed a blockbuster summer. And since their movie is directed by Michael Bay, you know it'll be full of stuff blowing up real good with none of that pesky talky-talk stuff getting in the way to revive your brain (if the ads are any indication, the most quoteworthy line from the film is Tyrese yelling "Bring it!").

Michael Bay's upcoming Lincoln Logs movie will totally kick ass, too.

Transformers is a movie based on a cartoon based on a toy, so you'll end up rooting for characters with incredibly ridiculous names like "Sideswipe," "Tailgate," "Wheeljack" and "Shia LeBeouf." Surely you'll feel stupid in the theater yelling "Bring it, Skid Marks" and "Hooray for Lube Job," so here's a list of possible Transformer character names that I'm suggesting for the inevitable sequel...

Bucketseat
Wiper Fluid
Airbags
Speed Bump
Hummer (the promiscuous "service" vehicle)
Exhaust Pipe
Cupholders
Power Locks
Antenna Balls
Calvin Peeing Decal
Honor Student Bumper Sticker
Spare Tire
Junk in the Trunk

Got your own suggestions? Bring it!

Monday, June 18, 2007

Jenni Hates Everything: Fantastic Four Edition

Jason and Steve dragged me to a showing of Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer this weekend. Yeah, it wasn't good. Naturally, it's the number one movie.

I was going to liveblog it from the theater, but apparently there are rules against laptops in the auditoriums. Who knew?

So I'll just sort of cobble together the experience from memory and the limited notes I took when not ogling Chris "Hot-ass Johnny Storm" Evans. But first, a story.

Pre-Show

As per usual, I there were total turds sitting behind us, this time in the form of an obnoxious little girl and her equally obnoxious father. I couldn't turn around to look at them because then I surely would have commited some unspeakable act of violence with the free Red Vines the theater gave us for pardoning their dust.

The theater we saw it in is converting over to an Arclight, which is actually where we usually see movies because they have assigned seating and delish popcorn. So before the movie, an employee will come out and talk to the audience (something that adds little-to-nothing to the experience but I suppose makes the easily impressed feel like it's "an experience") and in this instance they brought the house lights all the way up to do that, and the little twat behind us says "Ugh, WHAT is this now?!" and I'm making a Red Vines garrote to silence her (sweetly) and the employee says "no commericals" becuz they don't show commericals and NOW the little cunt is onboard with the psuedo-Arclight experience and she begins to chant "Yeah! NOOOOO commericals! I hate commericals!" and I pull the Red Vines too hard and my garrote snaps in two. Great, my hands stink of artificial strawberry gunk for nothing.

The employee's greeting and explanation is over and he leaves, and the lights go back down and the trailers and commericals start up. And the little piece of shit has apparently forgotten her hatred of commericals, because she cannot SHUT UP about anything she's seeing, and she's laughing at the commericals and reacting to the trailers and clearly she's in hog heaven--what the hell is she going to do when there actually aren't commericals for her to delight in? Stupid little twatty brat.

Your Feature Presentation

Anyway, the movie. Written for the lowest common denominator (see: the twatette and her twat father who were sitting behind us) with cheap, obvious gags and by-the-book action sequences, this movie wasn't trying very hard--and apparently I am the only one bothered by that.

Some observations from my notes:

The Silver Surfer sort of reaches near his crotchular area and clearly thinks "Where's muh dick?"

Dr. Doom (Uh, Victor Von Doom, I dunno that they ever actually call him Dr. Doom) at one point is surfing thru the air on the Surfer's board (the source of all the SS's power in the movie, LAME) in full-on Doom regalia, hood and metal face and armor and all, and if that sounds stupid, honestly, you have no idea HOW stupid it is until you see it. Just sad.

Luvved Jessica Alba's definitely uninvisible makeup. Very exaggerated, lots of heavy liner.

But there's a Paris Hiltonality to the blue contacts and blonde wig. Sometimes it worked, sometimes, not so much. And her lips were superpoofy. Odd.

They made the Fantasticar a Dodge (hahahoho) and there's a joke about it having a hemi that's not even hemi funny. (Steve says the joke was hemifisted; Jason says it was hemisexual.)

Chris Evans (Johnny Storm) is freaking hot but he's now a bit bulky muscley in the upper body which he didn't need to do, but love what he's done with the lower body. Should have been more camera focus on his ass and legs.

Galactus as a cloud = gaylactus

OMG what has happened to Julian McMahon's face? It's puffy and weird. Age is a cold, cold bitch. In the theater I jotted down "Faux physician, really heal thyself."

Apparently the big terrible plan for earth's destruction is the Silver Surver drills bowling ball-styled fingerholds into the ground and Cloudlactus will finger the world to death.

Come ON Galactus, of course the Silver Surfer rebelled--you can't take away a man's dick and expect him to be loyal.

The chick they pair Johnny Storm up with isn't hot enuff for his fine ass but there is one point where Sue and Johnny (Jessica and Chris) are having a moment and it totally looks like we're in for a brother/sister makeout session which I'm all for when the brother and sister are that yummy. Can I be in that family? Rowr.

When the Silver Surfer says "My people called him Galactus" the twat father behind us stage whispered "Galactus" along with him. I believe I should be congratulated for not breaking his nose into his head and up through his brain for that. It was clearly deserved.

Yeah, this was full of spoilers. But I think that's only a big deal if, you know, the movie has a plot and a story and shit.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

R.I.P. Mr. Wizard

Educational TV personality Mr. Wizard died Tuesday, sending shockwaves throughout the science community with the revelation that he was actually still alive as of a day ago.

Mr. Wizard
TV host/scientist/wizard
July 10, 1917 - June 12, 2007

Blinding you with science and/or hydrochloric acid

Mr. Wizard hosted various science shows for kids throughout the 1950s and '60s, and more notably, he helmed a popular 1970s series with his second wife, Mrs. Norma Wizard (his first wife, Ms. Dutton-Wizard, did not pursue a career in science).

On his popular TV series, Wizard taught kids valuable science lessons like volcanoes are actually filled with baking soda and that vigorously rubbing a balloon will create static electricity as well as one really, really aroused balloon.

In other death-related news, World Wrestling Entertainment's Chairman Vince McMahon is presumed to have "died" Monday after the limo he boarded at the conclusion of last night's episode of WWE Raw exploded. Conveniently, the cameras were rolling the entire time to capture the incident, which, like all of wrestling, just couldn't possibly be scripted since wrestlers can't read.

Vince McMahon
WWE Chairman
August 24, 1945 - June 11, 2007???
The Rock sheds a tear for Vince McMahon
or, possibly, the box office failure of
Walking Tall.

The only way last night's wrestling finale could've been any more shocking would be if the episode had ended with absolutely nothing of consequence happening while a cheesy Journey song played in the background. Hmmm... and speaking of which -- and since deaths come in threes -- you could go for the bucket-kicking hat trick if you count the mass extermination of HBO subscriptions at the hands of pissed-off Sopranos fans. I guess Taxicab Confessions and Real Sex 32 aren't enough to keep people paying for premium cable. It doesn't take a dead science guy to figure that out.