We’ve reached the end of the year. I know, I didn’t think we’d make it, either. We found new reasons every day to get mad at each other online. We dumped ice water over our heads so we didn’t have to donate to charity, and felt good about it. We allowed Taylor Swift back into our lives. We voted out a bunch of Democrats because of Ebola. We watched Vladimir Putin close the Winter Olympics with the ceremonial invasion of Ukraine. In a year this dismal, one can feel lost. When I start feeling that way, I just ask myself, “What would Ernest Hemingway do?” Then I get rip-roaring drunk and forget the question. So pour yourself a glass and let’s do this.
At least she was clothed
Lena Dunham (of course we’re starting with her) was on the cover of Vogue magazine in January, and not in an ironic way. It got all the lady bloggers of all the internets upset, too, because her picture was clearly touched up. The Girls creator has touted herself as an example of what real people look like, and the photo betrayed all that, they said. In other news, Dunham was given an award for best magazine cover ever.
Let your bowels take a vacation
It was not a good month to be on a boat. First, a Royal Caribbean cruise ship had to cut its tour short because some 700 crew and passengers got sick. Then, a Princess cruise ship had a similar outbreak. We’re not talking about a head cold going around on the ship–it was the norovirus. A sizable amount of people were enjoying their vacations either in their cabin bathrooms without ventilation, or heaving over the side. They say bad things come in threes, but sadly the Bud Light cruise ship at the Super Bowl wasn’t affected.
In case you’re not sick of him already Justin Bieber was arrested after police said he was drag racing in Miami while drunk and high, which is probably how everyone else in Miami drives in the first place. Bieber reportedly cried when he got arrested, and compared himself to Michael Jackson after posting bail. Between him and Toronto Mayor Rob Ford, it’s nice to see that Canadians can be just as big asses as Americans. Continue reading →
To encourage Christmas spirit, the city of Federal Heights, Colorado held a contest to see which local business could put up the best light design. The Guys would like to congratulate this year’s winner: Platinum 84, a strip club!
The strip club has a light show fancy enough for the whole family, complete with an inflatable Santa on the roof, likely because he Mrs. Claus isn’t doing it for him anymore. Platinum 84 donated the $100 it won to local police charity, and donated another $500, likely in singles, to a city food bank.
Now, that war has joined another war: the War on Animals. Except it’s the victim.
This week, a black bear was caught on camera attacking an outdoor Santa Claus lawn ornament (warning: autoplay). The Santa was absolutely destroyed and taken down by the bear. Some might chalk this up to the idiocy of someone putting a lawn ornament up in a forest, but we know the real reason: the black bear in question is a weapon of the Pope, waging his war of Masdamentalescent on the state of California.
Stop it Pope Coolness. Just because you said that animals can make it to heaven doesn’t mean that you should trick them into waging a war. That’s our job.
A quick note: Sony pulling The Interview is a cowardly move and a strike against free speech.
Would Charles Dickens have written the movie Scrooge? No. Would he have written The Muppet Christmas Carol? Good lord no, and stab your eyes for even suggesting as such. Truth told, he probably would have written something like Scrooged, an 80s, greed-isn’t-good update of the Dickens classic. The wittiest satire of television since Network, Scrooged gives us Frank Cross, the “youngest president in the history of television,” a man who also happens to be the completely maniacal head of the IBC TV network. IBC’s holiday programming runs toward action flicks like The Night the Reindeer Died and cheesy variety shows like Bob Goulet’s Old-Fashioned Cajun Christmas. But Frank’s pièce de résistance is Scrooge, a live-from-around-the-world Christmas Eve special, featuring Buddy Hackett as the old skinflint, Mary Lou Retton as Tiny Tim, and a bevy of scantily clad, oh-so 80s Solid Gold Dancers.
“We’ll own Christmas,” Frank announces gleefully.
But will it own your heart? Hit the cut, true believers, to find out the answer to that question, along with why it’s the second of three traditional Christmas-time movies for me. Continue reading →
Orlando, Florida, is a hotbed of amusement parks. Disney World (and its four parts), Universal Studios, Seaworld, Holy Land, they’re all places take the family down for some good, family fun. And that’s not even including the numerous water parks. Well, get the minivan packed and ready because a new park is opening: Machine Gun America.
Okay, granted, it’s not the most news-friendly name, but the guts of the theme park are sound: children as young as 13 can, along with their parents, fire high-powered automatic weapons at targets, along with taking part in simulators. Also, all attractions are staffed with safety officers. That’s actually pretty smart and not dissimilar from what you see during some bachelor parties, just on a slightly larger scale.
Unfortunately, there are some people up in arms with this place, saying that it just doesn’t fit in with the family-friendly image and atmosphere of Orlando. Which is understandable. I mean, it’s not like anything would besmirch the good name of Florida.
I’ve made it clear that, while I hate going anywhere that doesn’t have a liquor licence, the worst place without a liquor licence is any movie theater. And for a close second, movie theaters with liquor licences because, if I’m going to pay $30 to see a movie two weeks before it’s on Amazon, all the drunk-asses inside need to shut the hell up so I can hear it.
That said, with Christmas around the corner, I know I’ll have to go see a movie just to get out of the house, even if it means looking at badly computer-animated hobbits or penguins. I was just sort of hoping that movie would be The Interview.
But, no. After hacks and death threats by hackers who totally aren’t North Koreans, enough movie theater chains pulled out of showing it that Sony delayed its Christmas release. Which means they delayed my Christmas release, so between this and Amazing Spider-Man 2, Sony has a lot to answer for this year in my book.
Granted, I didn’t really care about the latest Franco-Rogen romp. Not until North Korea took it away from me. And worst of all, they proved just how easy it is to maneuver Americans to stifle free speech for the first time outside of their own borders.
So, there are a few ideas we either need to get used to or fix immediately because we, as a nation, are no longer the ripped superpower that we used to see in the bathroom mirror every morning. Continue reading →
When it comes to the holidays, Americans aren’t the only ones who gorge themselves. In fact, our former mother country tops us in it, so much so that they clog not just toilets, but sewers.
Every Christmas, or whatever they call it over there, the London sewer system gets even more clogged than usual with what can only be described as “fatbergs.” Everything remotely solid that Londoners flush or send down the drains daily, from fat left over from cooking, to wipes, to solid waste, congeals and causes sewers to slow down, even threatening them from over flowing. And it gets worse around the holidays.
Hockey is not a game known for its grace. Despite numerous tricks and gimmicks by American networks, ratings and viewership of the game has gone down over the years. To be honest, it’s because people want to see the fights in it. The fights are the only thing that makes hockey more watchable than soccer. They’re closest we can get to nearly seeing a person murdered, but not actually being murdered.
That said, if you want to really get that experience of seeing a person nearly being murdered, you don’t have to watch the hockey game from your tv, you can experience it in a rink. Due to a faulty propane tank in an ice resurfacer, 81 people were slowly given carbon monoxide poisoning, thus bringing the experience to them. Granted, no one has died yet, but it’s probably not a stretch to call ice resurfacers the silent killer of hockey, taking that title away from the icing rule.
The holiday season is here, as it has been for the past three months. And you might be getting in the holiday spirit. You might think it’s a good time to donate to charity, like donating unwanted items to Goodwill. That’s great. Just remember, don’t donate human remains.
One Indiana family forgot that rule. Goodwill employees were sorting through a bunch of donated boxes when they came upon two small, white boxes containing someone’s ashes. You may not know this, but dead people’s ashes don’t sell very well, not even at a thrift store. Plus, the resale value of the boxes really drops after they’ve carried human remains.
So please, find another way to get rid of grandpa’s ashes. Maybe sprinkle them at his favorite bar.
Japan finally learns what it’s like to be Irish, minus the copious whiskey consumption, the heavy-handed Catholicism and potato cannon-esque discharge of babies.
Due to labor contract disputes happening on the West Coast of the good old U.S. of A, potatoes just aren’t shipping like they used to. Unions being unions have caused ports to shut down and Japan can’t get potatoes anymore. DUM DUM DUMMMMMM.
To counter the oncoming shortage, McDonald’s of Japan (“I’m loving it-desu!”) will only be serving small sizes of fries until who knows when. People there are apparently finding this disappointing. Japan, to call this disappointing news is not a positive move in the ledger.