Monthly Archives: June 2007

The Bourne Redundancy

So I just watched the trailer for the new Matthew Damon is somehow an action movie Bourne Ultimatum: The Edge of Reason, and you would think that at this point he would either be rehired by the CIA and working on a covert operation fighting cyber-terrorists in Malaysia, or would have quietly retired to open his dream coffee shop in Southern California called “Bean There, Done That,” but instead it is actually the exact same movie as the other two movies, which is best summed up in the tagline “The call is still coming from inside the building.”

Anyhow, I will see this movie, because they always have good fight scenes, and because I love anything that is reminiscent of Sneakers, but I’ve also taken the liberty of writing a scene from the fourth movie, coming out in the summer of 2009, called The Bourne Accellerultimidentitumulation.

Continue reading

Somebody Please Kill This Guy [Insert Guy to Kill]

This is an occasional feature called Somebody Please Kill This Guy [Insert Guy to Kill] where I see a guy I want you to kill and I tell you about him.

The overweight balding middle-aged man with a thick moustache wearing his t-shirt tucked into his baggy Mervyn’s jeans, and his cell phone on a belt clip, who while waiting on the subway platform this morning reached for something in his back pocket only to have A CONDOM fall out.

Kill that guy.

Black Last of the Mohicans

During last week’s epic R. Kelly/Usher gay sex romp, I couldn’t help but feel excited by the glimpse Kells was giving us into his world with the close-up of his cellphone as he scrolled through his address book looking for Usher’s number.

But what does this tell us?

Well, for one, the visibility of “new contact” implies that he only has five numbers on his phone, one of them being “Studio.” Also, his phone is so new that it doesn’t even use the alphabet to organize names. Randomization iz so dope.

But so who is he calling? Well, Twon is famous as R. Kelly’s girl’s recently-released-from-prison brother from the early chapters of “Trapped in the Closet.” i.e. Twon does not exist. He is just there to make it look like R. Kelly has more than three people in his phone (I’m ignoring “Studio” at this point.) OK. And Usher is his gay lover. How about the two women?

A little research made it clear that Joanne is the name of R. Kelly’s deceased mother, which is either very creepy that he still calls her, or is the plot of Frequency.

Leaving only Shanee, and on this I am stumped. That is why I have dedicated the rest of my life, and the extent of my vast personal fortune to discovering just who this Shanee is.

I Am Smarter Than Stephen Hawking

When you see this on drudgereport, you laugh but you are compelled:

But let’s look at the evidence please:

She was crawling at five months and walking at nine months.

By 14 months, she was getting herself dressed.

“She spoke really early – by 18 months she was having proper conversations,” Mrs Brown said.

“She would say, ‘Hello I’m Georgia, I’m one’. She was also putting her shoes on and putting them on the right feet.”

Um, excuse me, I CAN DO ALL OF THOSE THINGS. Either I’m a genius, or Stephen Hawking is a fucking retard.

I would ask her things like ‘give me two blocks or give me ten blocks’ and she would manage it as easily as you would expect a five-year-old.

“In one test I asked her to draw a circle and she did it so perfectly.

“Most adults would struggle to do that. Her circle was near to being perfect.

“It shows she can physically hold a pen well but also that she understands the concept of a circle.”

Professor Freeman said: “I said to her, ‘What a pretty pink skirt, and you have tights and shoes to match’.

“She said, ‘They’re not pink, they’re purple’.

Fact, if someone asks me to give them two blocks or ten blocks I will give them exactly two blocks, or exactly ten blocks, WITH NO MISTAKES. Fact, I can physically hold a pencil, and I understand the concept of a circle. FACT, I KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN PINK AND PURPLE.

Seriously, though. I can do all of that stuff. I’m not bragging, it’s just the fucking truth.

So Pumped

fuck yes am i right am i right am i right?

As if a scene in which Dane Cook deigns (fart! pronunciation pun) to sleep with a morbidly obese woman to break his sexual magic and finally date rape Jessica Alba and ends up in a shower scrubbing his dick with industrial cleaner because fucking morbidly obese women is so gross and hilarious wasn’t enough of a reason to see this gem, NICE SILK PANTIES DANE COOK.

Opening night. I’m already in line. Bring me a blanket.