Dear readers, prepare to have your minds blown. I have uncovered a disquieting truth that will surely shock, and eventually bore you, to death. This revelation will open up a subject that I have never discussed on this particular site (except for the title.) But first, we must take a trip back all the way to December, 2004.
In what seems like eons ago, I was but a humble high school student you used to write for the newspaper. Even though I tackled such serious issues as the hockey team's upcoming games and whether it was worth your while to see The Producers, I could squeeze in a laugh as well. I found the perfect opportunity when I chose to review an epic masterpiece, The SpongeBob Squarepants Movie. Obviously, the typical high school student is too mature to take the review of a children's movie seriously. Therefore, I found a gold mine of ironic laughs. Little did I know, that humorous irony would turn against me.
This particular review was due in just before Christmas vacation, a time when teachers typical overload their students with work just before break. Being the self-righteous person that I am, I lamented the fact that in the midst of all this work, I had to complete a newspaper article. However, being the incredibly tough hockey player that I am, I promptly finished all of my assignments. Unfortunately, these assignments did not afford me the time to proofread as I should have.
The paper was printed and distributed the day before Christmas vacation. I walked through the halls triumphantly, thinking of the great break that awaited me and the funny article that would no doubt get people's attention. And it did, but in the worst of ways.
People snickered and sneered as they congratulated me on another terrific review. Being the perceptive sleuth that I am, I ignored their snickering and dutifully smiled at their praise. It wasn't until someone in my Physics class noted the words "Chum Bucket", a prominent setting in the film, was missing an "h". Being the knowledgeable person that I am, I dismissed it as just another typo.
But this was not just another typo. In a shocking revelation, I found that removing the "h" in the word "chum" creates a euphemism for male reproductive fluid. How this term for sperm ever came into being still perplexes me, but any word referring to men's ejaculatory excrements in an all-boys school will - without a doubt - get the boys giggling.
Despite the torture I faced for the remainder the school year, I insisted that I was framed, set up, and even unknowing coerced into taking the blame for that egregious mistake. I returned home and immediately went to my computer. I opened the original document, eager to prove my innocence. But as luck would have it, the hard-drive crashed and all data was lost. How convenient...
But why would someone what to put such an egregious error in the newspaper under my name? Well, as most of you don't know, journalism is an incredibly competitive field, the reporters will do anything - and I mean anything - to get ahead. And a smudge on my record as big as a typo in my high school newspaper would prevent me from obtaining the most prosperous and attention-getting jobs in journalism today. And if I could not get those cushy jobs, the real person behind the purloined "h" would. I suppose my greatest folly was just being too darn good.
In the years follow the horrendous Christmas of 2004, everyone (including myself) has since forgotten the little error. But new evidence has surfaced that demonstrates my innocence.
I recently visited a website entitled "The Best Page in the Universe" on which the author, Maddox, satirizes everything under the sun. So it came as no surprise that he would poke fun at the alleged conspiracies surrounding the tragic events of 9/11 by conceiving his own conspiracy theory surrounding the sinking of the Titanic, and creating a hilarious faux documentary expounding his thoughts.
Now, I will admit that Maddox is one of my biggest inspirations, and you could construe my conspiracy as a blatant attempt of plagiarism. But if it weren't for Maddox's inspiration and my unoriginality, I would never find the truth surrounding this conspiracy. Coincidence?
Now, among the over 1800 comments on YouTube written for this mockumentary, one written by a "Headz402" caught my eye. He insisted that these tightly-wound teenagers should loosen-up, accept this conspiracy as silly, and stop acting like a bunch of...
He used that same exact euphemism. Is this magical combination of two words a well-known and commonly used phrase? If so, it would provide invaluable evidence to my assertion that someone - other than me - knowingly removed that "h". But how can I prove that this phrase was commonly used?
My fortune lost in that mysterious hard-drive crash returned me with my interest in screenwriting. An essential part to improving in script-writing is reading produced screenplays. So what else would I do than seek out the scripts for some of my favorite films. But as luck would have it, I stumbled upon the screenplay for the South Park movie, and a line uttered by Saddam Hussein caught my eye. Towards the climax, Saddam insists that his male lover, Satan, stop acting like a coward by calling him a...
Written before 1999, the utterance of these two infamous words proves that they could have been commonly used, even before the publishing of my article in 2004. But the fact that this phrase has been coined before does not prove that someone else tampered with my review. We need a smoking gun. To find it, let us dissect those two disgusting, deplorable words.
Well, in Latin, the word "cum" means "with." And in English, the word "bucket" means "bucket." With bucket? What could that mean? With buckets of laughs at my expense? Oh, I think so!
Therefore, Maddox's satirization of a ridiculous conspiracy theory, combined with the utterance of the phrase in one of comments of his video, in addition to the evidence that this phrase has been coined before in the South Park screenplay, with the knowledge that the two words connote that someone set me up, I can prove that the missing "h" in the words "chum bucket" in my review of The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie was intentionally removed to discredit me out of jealousy. And mistake on the level of a typo in a high school newspaper would deny me any further career opportunities, opening them up for the real perpetrator. I was just too darn good. And until there is indisputable evidence that someone didn't frame me, I convinced that someone did.
Although I essentially put forth incontrovertible facts that prove I did not cause that typo, I'm afraid that I will never ever be able to put my unpleasant past behind me. Even today when I catch SpongeBob SquarePants on television, I cannot bear the sight or mention of that prominent location, the Cum Bucket, and not think of the jealousy that prevailed and the money and fame that I lost...
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Sunday, April 01, 2007
My Ballz
im so supra funny its not even funny lol. yu wanna know WHY im so funny. cuz i gots balz. thats y. i take tings that arent that funny or no one else iz to afraid to takl about and make em funny. ppl dont have guts. i do. i have the balllz to talk about things dat no else has the courage 2 make funny. and its not becuz i have a blog or tv show that lets me say these things + not you. heres a big list of thingz that i find funny that erebody iz to afraid to talk aboot:
Note for the slow...actually, you shouldn't get a note. You should get a punch in the face for being so dense.
- LOL mikael richards is soooooo racist. were did that come from. kramer didnt hate black ppl on seinfeld wft
- omgz saddam hussane got hanged. its okay bcuz he was evil and hes suppose to die. thats the only way to get rid of killers. kill the killaz LOL.
- anna nicole died to. dat was whack! lol! wat is up wit her. she was sooooo wasted liek all da tyme. i guess dats waht cuzed her to die lol.
- george w bush iz so STUPID LOL. how iz he prez anyway. hes so dum and he likes war. thats gay.
- wtf who waz dat astronut wearin da diaper. thats so stoopid! wuz she gonna poop her pants or somethin? LOL
- dick cheney shot some guy in the face. LOL! its funny dat his name is dik bcuz he iz a dick. wtf! how do u shot ur friend! lol idiot!
- HAHAH ted haggert that preacher guy wuz gay! LOL its soooo funny becuz he didnt like gay ppl + he iz gay. how do u not like urself lol.
- brit spearz iz crasy! OMGz
- hey that guy on greys anatomy called dat other guy a fag. thats not cool lol.
- omhz geoge bush is still soooo stoopid. i cnat beleve it! LOL
- bill orelily is a jerk. i cant beleieve hes on tv. how could he be sooo stpid ad b on tv? he s stoopid enuff 2 b prez LOL
- ppl who use macs suck. they ac t liek there better than me when theyre not. JERKS LOL.
- didd i tell u saddam was hung + died lol?
- GEORE W BUSH iz STILL STUPIT! OMG lol
Note for the slow...actually, you shouldn't get a note. You should get a punch in the face for being so dense.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Need Journalistic Integrity? I'm On The Case!
As all two of my readers know, the first year of college tends to be incredibly demanding. With introductory course, parties, and an endless amount of horny women, freshman year is quite a challenge. I, however, have transcended such petty obstacles and accomplished a task few have ever dare to try.
You see, many students fearfully steer clear of participating in the student newspaper, for fear that their incompetent writing skills will lead to embarrassment. And those that do scribe for student papers usually head straight to the editorials under the delusion that their opinions, well, matter. I, on the other hand, am completely different (Surely my opinions matter.) But when I signed up with the Old Gold and Black, I went straight for the jugular, where journalistic integrity really matters. I went for the sports.
Now, my overwhelming aptitude dictates that I should write for the biggest sports on campus, like rugby, cricket, and beer pong. However, our senior editor assigned me to report on the most menial of sports, like tennis. Not one to hold a grudge or act immaturely, I bit my lip and wrote the articles that my dickhole editor assigned. But one day (and the following events are completely true), instead of assign articles by e-mail as he usually does, he called me into his office. He told me to sit down and said in his commanding, 22-year-old voice, "Hey, fish. Your work's gettin' sloppy. I should ride your ass out of here on a pike, you sonuvagun. But I'm giving you one more chance. I'm givin' you the keys to a gold mine, so don't screw it up!" He handed me the assignment that is every journalist's wet dream. I was to report on my school's track meet; the Open Classic.
However, I could not foul this one up. As always, I had to remain at the top of my game. Therefore, I buttoned up my shirt, tied my shoes, and did all my research from my laptop (as all responsible journalists do) instead of walking across the street to where the meet was being held. However, the only difficulty greater than downloading PDF files was encapsulating an entire weekend of action on the track into 800 words. And to make matters worse, my 8:00 PM deadline was slowly approaching. But with integrity flowing through my journalist veins, I sent in the article only 14 hours late.
Still, my senior editor must have wet his pants when he finally read my masterpiece. How else can you explain his choice make it the lead article in the sports section that week. Of course, the title needed a change and 100 words needed to be loped off, but sacrifices must be made (like sacrificing a good lead article on a small event for a crappy lead article on a big event.)
Now, I'm not one to immediately accept fame (though you can find my amazing article and full name here), but my lead story as a freshman has earned me some notoreity. No more than two people came up to me and inquired about me writing for the newspaper. Even though the article was never mentioned, I assume they couldn't recall it out of jealousy.
I can also assume that this particular lead article will lead to even bigger and better assignments. As an important journalist, I will report, expose, and postulate on stories that will give me so much selfless glory that it would make Mother Theresa seem self-centered. In fact, just to fill you with anticipation, my next article will detail illegal immigration on the border between the United States and Canada. I will examine how the higher exchange rate for Canada causes them to come to our country and steal our jobs. But I will also expose inconsistent politicians that only support a wall between the United States and Mexico. If we must construct a wall between our land and Mexico, we must do the same for Canada. There are no differences between our neighbors, or their job-stealing citizens (except skin color).
So, if my dear readers ever need journalistic credibility, I'll be on the case. Give me an assignment, set a deadline, and I'll be sure to give you a half-assed written story that's at least four hours late. But at least it's right in my mind.
You see, many students fearfully steer clear of participating in the student newspaper, for fear that their incompetent writing skills will lead to embarrassment. And those that do scribe for student papers usually head straight to the editorials under the delusion that their opinions, well, matter. I, on the other hand, am completely different (Surely my opinions matter.) But when I signed up with the Old Gold and Black, I went straight for the jugular, where journalistic integrity really matters. I went for the sports.
Now, my overwhelming aptitude dictates that I should write for the biggest sports on campus, like rugby, cricket, and beer pong. However, our senior editor assigned me to report on the most menial of sports, like tennis. Not one to hold a grudge or act immaturely, I bit my lip and wrote the articles that my dickhole editor assigned. But one day (and the following events are completely true), instead of assign articles by e-mail as he usually does, he called me into his office. He told me to sit down and said in his commanding, 22-year-old voice, "Hey, fish. Your work's gettin' sloppy. I should ride your ass out of here on a pike, you sonuvagun. But I'm giving you one more chance. I'm givin' you the keys to a gold mine, so don't screw it up!" He handed me the assignment that is every journalist's wet dream. I was to report on my school's track meet; the Open Classic.
However, I could not foul this one up. As always, I had to remain at the top of my game. Therefore, I buttoned up my shirt, tied my shoes, and did all my research from my laptop (as all responsible journalists do) instead of walking across the street to where the meet was being held. However, the only difficulty greater than downloading PDF files was encapsulating an entire weekend of action on the track into 800 words. And to make matters worse, my 8:00 PM deadline was slowly approaching. But with integrity flowing through my journalist veins, I sent in the article only 14 hours late.
Still, my senior editor must have wet his pants when he finally read my masterpiece. How else can you explain his choice make it the lead article in the sports section that week. Of course, the title needed a change and 100 words needed to be loped off, but sacrifices must be made (like sacrificing a good lead article on a small event for a crappy lead article on a big event.)
Now, I'm not one to immediately accept fame (though you can find my amazing article and full name here), but my lead story as a freshman has earned me some notoreity. No more than two people came up to me and inquired about me writing for the newspaper. Even though the article was never mentioned, I assume they couldn't recall it out of jealousy.
I can also assume that this particular lead article will lead to even bigger and better assignments. As an important journalist, I will report, expose, and postulate on stories that will give me so much selfless glory that it would make Mother Theresa seem self-centered. In fact, just to fill you with anticipation, my next article will detail illegal immigration on the border between the United States and Canada. I will examine how the higher exchange rate for Canada causes them to come to our country and steal our jobs. But I will also expose inconsistent politicians that only support a wall between the United States and Mexico. If we must construct a wall between our land and Mexico, we must do the same for Canada. There are no differences between our neighbors, or their job-stealing citizens (except skin color).
So, if my dear readers ever need journalistic credibility, I'll be on the case. Give me an assignment, set a deadline, and I'll be sure to give you a half-assed written story that's at least four hours late. But at least it's right in my mind.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Oscars-Winning Films and Dow: What They Have in Common
As is my annual custom, I tuned into the Academy Awards last night because I want to be part of the self-congratulatory reach-around that Hollywood puts on every year. After ten years of watching the program, I now have a pretty objective view of show's quality. So for those of you who did not watch the ceremony last night, I will tell you how it went down. About fifteen minutes in, I called my brother (who was also watching) and simply told him "If Ellen DeGeneres doesn't get off the stage, I am going to stab myself."
However, my faith in life was restored when William Monahan and Michael Arndt won the only writing awards presented in the evening. As someone from Boston (like Monahan) who writes screenplays with uninspired premises (like Arndt), it gave hope that too may one day win a golden idol to worship.
But that was not the highlight of the evening. You see, the Oscars are like a second Super Bowl when it comes to commercials. These advertisements are enormous in scale and irrelevant to whatever they are selling. They're like mystery stories. For instance, three rabbits sit on a log. One of them goes home and hangs himself. Buy a bike!
One commercial, however, touched me in a way I have never been touched before (get your head out of the gutter). Suddenly, squeezed in between an insipid ad for Budweiser and a banal Coke spot, sweeping landscapes and beautiful images flew by as the bittersweet "New Harmony Waltz" played in the background. And then, an appeal to humanity, and a mention how we as humans illuminate this wonderful planet. At this point, I don't know what the hell this company is selling, and I don't care! Finally, after a good mind-numbing minute of visual and musical beauty, we finally learn who is responsible for the sweeping epic of a commercial; Dow.
That's it. Dow. After coming back to my senses, I decided to find out what exactly it is that this Dow does. After a quick trip to Wikipedia, I found out the truth. Apparently, Dow does human catastrophe.
The first half of the Wikipedia article was chalk full of happy news. You see, Dow is currently the second largest chemical producer on the planet Earth, and its stock has been hot enough for 100 years to have the American Industrial Stock exchange to be named after it. Chemicals, capitalism, America, it's all good. Then we hit the second half, and things turned sour. Apparently, Dow was the top provider of napalm and Agent Orange to the United States military during the Vietnam War. And the adverse results of those two chemicals weapons still affect Vietnam today. Then they owned a Union-Carbine plant in India that, in 1984, let off toxic gases into heavily populated city of Bhopal. And the effects of those poisonous gases still harm the people of India today. Then they...well, let's just say that Dow doesn't exactly have a pleasant history.
But ironically enough, all this talk of Dow violating human rights led me back to one place. Yes, that beautiful commercial, which can be seen here on YouTube. Clearly, Dow is attempting to cover up its troubled past with inspirationally shallow advertising. However, what director would lower himself to actually concealing corporate greed with such a cheesy commercial? And what's even worse, what director would do it so flawlessly?
But then I returned to the Oscars, where the nominees aren't exactly beacons of light. For instance, the ending to the Best Picture winner is basically a poor man's Hamlet. The front-runner prior the ceremony showed an American tourist getting shot, a Mexican immigrant and children almost dying in the desert, that same Mexican immigrant being unfairly returned to Mexico, and a deaf, Japanese girl (sans panties) basically offering herself up to anything that moves. And the sentimental favorite coming in to this year's Oscars featured a foul-mouthed Grandfather, a gay Proust scholar, a boy's dream being crushed, and that same Grandpa being squeezed into the back of the van. Oh, if you don't want to hear spoilers, don't read the previous sentence.
After a lot of thought, I came to one conclusion; film needs evil. How else will movies generate conflict? All conflict revolves around a battle between good and evil. And despite their unflattering subject matters, The Departed, Babel, and Little Miss Sunshine are all fine films that greatly enhance the medium. And if Dow didn't commit these terrible atrocities, then that beautiful commercial would have no need to exist. Actually, scratch that. Dow is just evil incarnate in corporation form that should be taken down in every way possible. However, the "New Harmony Waltz" and the director of that commercial can stay.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
The Second Annual Tellie Awards
Sadly, I'm not looking forward to handing out my Tellie Awards this year. Every year, I attempt to highlight incredible films that the critics love, audiences ignore, and I wet my pants over. However, the nominees this year may resemble the possible winners for another overly self-congratulatory, figurative reach-around of an award show (hint: look up the Oscar nominees). But whereas the winners of those awards are already forgone conclusions, you may be surprised by this year's Tellie Award recepients. So get your hopes up. Way up. Because they are going to fall faster than Britney Spears' sanity: 
Best Documentary of 2006:
Block Party
Jesus Camp
And the winner is...Block Party! Even though the message board for Jesus Camp on the Internet Movie Database gives me plenty of opportunities to disprove cowardly atheists, Block Party was the most fun I've had in a movie theater all year. However, it's a documentary, and it probably wouldn't win Best Picture. But I just had to give it something.
Worst Excuse for a Documentary of the Year Nominees:
The Root of All Evil?
And the winner is...I mean, the loss goes to "The Root of All Evil?", a weak attempt at showing how religion has caused every violent conflict on Earth. Yes, every single one. They couldn't even get it into theaters, it's so bad. And you don't have to see it to detest the documentary as much as I do. All you have to know is that prominently features Richard Dawkins, whose smug existence is reason enough to dislike anything.
Most Disappointing Waste of $10 This Summer:
The DaVinci Code
Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest
Poseidon
Superman Returns
X-Men III: The Last Stand
And the loser is...Poseidon. Devoid of all emotion, spark, or even imagination, this waste of $16 (yes, my brothers just had to see it in IMAX) had me sticking a spoon up my ass, just so I could feel something (or to distract myself from the pain.) I think I had a harder time sitting through this piece of garbage than the "characters" had getting through that ship.
Now, you're probably not asking yourselves, "What will this year's two losers receive now that you've designed such an immaculate trophy for these awards?" Well, the trophy does feature a bucket (very clever, I know), and for the winners, it will be filled with chocolate. And for the losers, it will be filled with another brown, gooey substance, only less delicious.
Sickest Screenplay of the Year Nominees:
Michael Arndt (Little Miss Sunshine)
Todd Field and Tom Perotta (Little Children)
Zach Helm (Stranger than Fiction)
William Monahan (The Departed)
Jason Reitman (Thank You for Smoking)
And the winner is...Jason Reitman, Thank You for Smoking! Even though Michael Arndt probably deserves the award just as much it since took five years to make Little Miss Sunshine, it took Reitman ten to make Thank You for Smoking. And he directed too. Sorry, Mikey.
Super-rific Supporting Actress of the Year Nominees:
Amy Adams (Talledaga Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby)
Adriana Barraza (Babel)
Maria Bello (Thank You for Smoking)
Abigail Breslin (Little Miss Sunshine)
Jodie Foster (Inside Man)
And the winner is...Abigail Breslin, Little Miss Sunshine! In this movie, Breslin has to be precocious, subtle, confused, teary, and elated all at the same time. And she does it all. Superbly.
Super-rific Supporting Actor of the Year Nominees:
Alan Arkin (Little Miss Sunshine)
Steve Carell (Little Miss Sunshine)
Kazunari Ninomiya (Letters from Iwo Jima)
Michael Sheen (The Queen)
Mark Wahlberg (The Departed)
And the winner is...Michael Sheen, The Queen! It's hard enough to portray a historical figure (let alone a living one), but Sheen does an excellent job of portraying and looking like Tony Blair. He also has the memorable moment in cinema this year (and no, Pathé Pictures did not tell me to say that, but I am expecting a check).
Lucious Leading Lady of the Year Nominees:
Debbie Doebereiner (Bubble)
Maggie Gyllenhaal (Stranger than Fiction)
Helen Mirren (The Queen)
Amy Sedaris (Strangers With Candy)
Kate Winslet (Little Children)
And the winner is...Debbie Doebereiner, Bubble! Even though it's out of the tradition of the title "lucious", Debbie gives the most heartbreaking performence this year. And Helen Mirren has enough awards in her arms. It's tough not to give it to her, but I remind myself that she was in Teaching Ms. Tingle and Shadowboxer and Raising Helen and...
Pimpin' Male Performance of the Year Nominees:
Sacha Baron Cohen (Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan)
Aaron Eckhart (Thank You for Smoking)
Ken Watanabe (Letters from Iwo Jima)
Forest Whitaker (The Last King of Scotland)
Patrick Wilson (Little Children)
And the winner is...Forest Whitaker, The Last King of Scotland! Okay, his performance is really worthy of all the awards. He didn't have crazy Southerns to feed off of. Sorry, Sacha (jeez, I'm giving out more apologies than awards).
Best Director of the Year Nominees:
Jonathan Dayton & Valerie Faris (Little Miss Sunshine)
Kevin MacDonald (The Last King of Scotland)
Jason Reitman (Thank You for Smoking)
Martin Scorsese (The Departed)
Steven Soderbergh (Bubble)
And the winner is...Steven Soderbergh, Bubble! He made that movie feel more like real life than real life itself. That's how good this guy is.
Are you disappointed yet? Good, because here comes the...
Best Picture of 2006 Nominees:
Bubble
The Departed
Letters from Iwo Jima
Little Miss Sunshine
Thank You for Smoking
And the winner is...Thank You for Smoking! Interesting, another overlooked and underrated gem that people passed on has won the Tellie Award for Best Picture. I'm beginning to sense a pattern. This solid, politically incorrect slice of satire just beat out Little Miss Sunshine and Bubble, but I implore you to see all three films. I dub them the "Trilogy of 2006", and I will release a special edition pack of all three DVDs (because I need some dough). Go check them out. They're cool.
Best Documentary of 2006:
Block Party
Jesus Camp
And the winner is...Block Party! Even though the message board for Jesus Camp on the Internet Movie Database gives me plenty of opportunities to disprove cowardly atheists, Block Party was the most fun I've had in a movie theater all year. However, it's a documentary, and it probably wouldn't win Best Picture. But I just had to give it something.
Worst Excuse for a Documentary of the Year Nominees:
The Root of All Evil?
And the winner is...I mean, the loss goes to "The Root of All Evil?", a weak attempt at showing how religion has caused every violent conflict on Earth. Yes, every single one. They couldn't even get it into theaters, it's so bad. And you don't have to see it to detest the documentary as much as I do. All you have to know is that prominently features Richard Dawkins, whose smug existence is reason enough to dislike anything.
Most Disappointing Waste of $10 This Summer:
The DaVinci Code
Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest
Poseidon
Superman Returns
X-Men III: The Last Stand
And the loser is...Poseidon. Devoid of all emotion, spark, or even imagination, this waste of $16 (yes, my brothers just had to see it in IMAX) had me sticking a spoon up my ass, just so I could feel something (or to distract myself from the pain.) I think I had a harder time sitting through this piece of garbage than the "characters" had getting through that ship.
Now, you're probably not asking yourselves, "What will this year's two losers receive now that you've designed such an immaculate trophy for these awards?" Well, the trophy does feature a bucket (very clever, I know), and for the winners, it will be filled with chocolate. And for the losers, it will be filled with another brown, gooey substance, only less delicious.
Sickest Screenplay of the Year Nominees:
Michael Arndt (Little Miss Sunshine)
Todd Field and Tom Perotta (Little Children)
Zach Helm (Stranger than Fiction)
William Monahan (The Departed)
Jason Reitman (Thank You for Smoking)
And the winner is...Jason Reitman, Thank You for Smoking! Even though Michael Arndt probably deserves the award just as much it since took five years to make Little Miss Sunshine, it took Reitman ten to make Thank You for Smoking. And he directed too. Sorry, Mikey.
Super-rific Supporting Actress of the Year Nominees:
Amy Adams (Talledaga Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby)
Adriana Barraza (Babel)
Maria Bello (Thank You for Smoking)
Abigail Breslin (Little Miss Sunshine)
Jodie Foster (Inside Man)
And the winner is...Abigail Breslin, Little Miss Sunshine! In this movie, Breslin has to be precocious, subtle, confused, teary, and elated all at the same time. And she does it all. Superbly.
Super-rific Supporting Actor of the Year Nominees:
Alan Arkin (Little Miss Sunshine)
Steve Carell (Little Miss Sunshine)
Kazunari Ninomiya (Letters from Iwo Jima)
Michael Sheen (The Queen)
Mark Wahlberg (The Departed)
And the winner is...Michael Sheen, The Queen! It's hard enough to portray a historical figure (let alone a living one), but Sheen does an excellent job of portraying and looking like Tony Blair. He also has the memorable moment in cinema this year (and no, Pathé Pictures did not tell me to say that, but I am expecting a check).
Lucious Leading Lady of the Year Nominees:
Debbie Doebereiner (Bubble)
Maggie Gyllenhaal (Stranger than Fiction)
Helen Mirren (The Queen)
Amy Sedaris (Strangers With Candy)
Kate Winslet (Little Children)
And the winner is...Debbie Doebereiner, Bubble! Even though it's out of the tradition of the title "lucious", Debbie gives the most heartbreaking performence this year. And Helen Mirren has enough awards in her arms. It's tough not to give it to her, but I remind myself that she was in Teaching Ms. Tingle and Shadowboxer and Raising Helen and...
Pimpin' Male Performance of the Year Nominees:
Sacha Baron Cohen (Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan)
Aaron Eckhart (Thank You for Smoking)
Ken Watanabe (Letters from Iwo Jima)
Forest Whitaker (The Last King of Scotland)
Patrick Wilson (Little Children)
And the winner is...Forest Whitaker, The Last King of Scotland! Okay, his performance is really worthy of all the awards. He didn't have crazy Southerns to feed off of. Sorry, Sacha (jeez, I'm giving out more apologies than awards).
Best Director of the Year Nominees:
Jonathan Dayton & Valerie Faris (Little Miss Sunshine)
Kevin MacDonald (The Last King of Scotland)
Jason Reitman (Thank You for Smoking)
Martin Scorsese (The Departed)
Steven Soderbergh (Bubble)
And the winner is...Steven Soderbergh, Bubble! He made that movie feel more like real life than real life itself. That's how good this guy is.
Are you disappointed yet? Good, because here comes the...
Best Picture of 2006 Nominees:
Bubble
The Departed
Letters from Iwo Jima
Little Miss Sunshine
Thank You for Smoking
And the winner is...Thank You for Smoking! Interesting, another overlooked and underrated gem that people passed on has won the Tellie Award for Best Picture. I'm beginning to sense a pattern. This solid, politically incorrect slice of satire just beat out Little Miss Sunshine and Bubble, but I implore you to see all three films. I dub them the "Trilogy of 2006", and I will release a special edition pack of all three DVDs (because I need some dough). Go check them out. They're cool.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
My Orange Bowl Experience
Since my little website has deteriorated into me detailing every little meaningless minutia of my day, I've decided to describe my experience at the 2007 FedEx Orange Bowl in Miami, Florida. And yes, it is absolutely necessary that I label every corporate sponsor I ran into during the night (seriously, would it feel like college football without the sponsorships.) First, let me start by getting your hopes up to astronomical heights. This particular post is slated to be my most ambitious (and best) yet. It will be an unholy amagamation on word, image, and yes, video.
Are you beyond excited at this point? Good. You now feel the same hopeless excitement and anticipation that I felt coming into my wet dream; rooting for my team in a big-time, college football bowl game.
Now that I got your hopes up, I must warn you; this is close to the best it's going to get. Even though this post brings words, pictures, and videos to the table, my inability to form a proper sentence will probably dampen this experience. I felt the same sinking feeling as I entered Miami on that fateful January day. Even though I was beyond frenzied to see Wake make as far as the Orange Bowl, I knew they had a virgin's chance in Vegas to pull this one out. Still, a very same part of me held out hope that miraculously find a way to the be victors, as they had done all year.
The evening started out crappily enough as a torrential downpour struck Florida just as we were leaving for Dolphins Stadium (which amazingly doesn't have any kind of naming rights..yet.) But my small accomplishments during the commute gave me a sense of hope that good things were to come on this particular evening. Not only had I maneuvered the car from the passenger's seat while my father ate his Chilupa (available nationwide at all Taco Bell locations), but I had also successfully navigated us to the stadium by way of the Florida Turnpike. This was quite an accomplishment of the directionally challenged like myself.
However, once we parked in the Toyoto Parking Zone and got out of the car, my father, two brothers, and I were completely flabbergasted. Whatever impressions they had of me being a big college football fan went out the window, as every tailgating fan we encountered was screaming his or her head off and blowing at least a .1 on the breathalizer. Unfortunately for us, most of these fans were wearing red, spoke like true backwater, imbred hicks, and struggled to spell "C-A-R-D-S" correctly. Not only do Louisville fans have the worst cheer in all of college football, but they display the worst tact of any fans as well. They not only chanted "beat Wake Forest high school" ad nauseum, but they also made (and in another sign of brilliance, bought) shirts stating "Beat Wake". They might as well said "We're Goliath, Beat David" on them. At this point, even though I knew that the Deacons were going to get their heads beaten in, nothing would make me happier than to see my team down these clowns.
My contempt for Louisville fans disappeared when we entered the stadium, and my eyes fell upon one of the most beautiful sights that they have ever seen:
We took our seats up in the nosebleeds, and then experienced the most terrifying jet flyover in the history of aviation. After those F-18s put on the afterburners about 15 feet above the stadium, the pants of every fan in the stadium became wet (and it wasn't from the rain).
In retrospect, the first half was somewhat of a snooze. After a scoreless first quarter, sophomore kicker/Heisman candidate Sam Swank notched a field goal to give Wake the early lead. But late in the first half, following a Louisville field goal, the Cards scored on some kind of illegal play where wide receiver Patrick Carter (trick plays are reserved for the underdogs!) to give Louisville a 10-3 lead going into halftime.
My happiness soon turned to sorrow when the halftime "entertainment" was provided by none other than Taylor Hicks. It's not a good sign for the "talent" on American Idol when I can sing better than last season's winner (my demo tape's coming out soon). Then Patty Labelle came on, which would be more exciting if I was thirty years older and could name one of her songs, but her presence upgraded the halftime show's status to tragedy.
But my sadness after the concert only made the second half that much more enjoyable. The Deacons came out of the locker room with their guns drawn as they pounded the Louisville offense on their first two offensive drives:
Then, at the eleven-minute mark of the third quarter, Wake's freshman quarterback and resident god Riley Skinner hit senior wide receiver Nate Morton on a 30-yard touchdown strike to tie the game up at 10-10. At this point, I was screaming as loud as the tailgaters we saw earlier (and I was sober). So you can imagine my excitement when Swank knocked home this field goal to give Wake Forest a fourth quarter lead:
I've never felt so overjoyed and flabbergasted at the same time. Many college football analysts didn't think that Wake would compete, much less take a lead into the fourth quarter. They might pull this off
But from this point, the game turned so sour it should've been called the Lemon Bowl. As all the great teams do, Louisville turned it on when they needed to and drove down the field with robotic precision, scoring on a one-yard run to take the 17-14 lead. After another Demon Deacon punt, the Cards again moved down the field methodically for another touchdown, giving them a 11-point lead with only five minutes to play.
Despite these two deflating drives, I still held out hope. Heck, everyone saw what Boise State did the night before. Why couldn't Wake Forest work the magic that they had all season long? But on the first play of the drive, Skinner was sacked back at the 13-yard-line. While others headed for the exits, I stood cheering. Then Skinner completed a pass of eight yards. Then 26 yards. Then 17. Then four. They were going to do it! For a briefest of moments, it seemed that the Deacons were on the comeback train. But then, this happened:
The William Gay interception sealed up two things; a victory for Louisville, and my heart from ever loving anything again.
On the long walk back to the car, I slowly began to collect myself. The loss had unleashed something that I hadn't felt in a long time; sentimentality. It didn't matter than the refs blew two fumble calls that went against Wake. It didn't matter than God should've sided with my Deacons. They showed up, tried their best, and lost. But you know what, real losers are so afraid of not winning that they don't even try. The Demon Deacons weren't supposed to win this season. But they tried anyway, and as it turned out, they ended up winners. I'd like to think I did the same thing when I tried to encapsulate my entire Orange Bowl experience for you in this post. I might have failed, but hell, at least I tried.
Are you beyond excited at this point? Good. You now feel the same hopeless excitement and anticipation that I felt coming into my wet dream; rooting for my team in a big-time, college football bowl game.
Now that I got your hopes up, I must warn you; this is close to the best it's going to get. Even though this post brings words, pictures, and videos to the table, my inability to form a proper sentence will probably dampen this experience. I felt the same sinking feeling as I entered Miami on that fateful January day. Even though I was beyond frenzied to see Wake make as far as the Orange Bowl, I knew they had a virgin's chance in Vegas to pull this one out. Still, a very same part of me held out hope that miraculously find a way to the be victors, as they had done all year.
The evening started out crappily enough as a torrential downpour struck Florida just as we were leaving for Dolphins Stadium (which amazingly doesn't have any kind of naming rights..yet.) But my small accomplishments during the commute gave me a sense of hope that good things were to come on this particular evening. Not only had I maneuvered the car from the passenger's seat while my father ate his Chilupa (available nationwide at all Taco Bell locations), but I had also successfully navigated us to the stadium by way of the Florida Turnpike. This was quite an accomplishment of the directionally challenged like myself.
However, once we parked in the Toyoto Parking Zone and got out of the car, my father, two brothers, and I were completely flabbergasted. Whatever impressions they had of me being a big college football fan went out the window, as every tailgating fan we encountered was screaming his or her head off and blowing at least a .1 on the breathalizer. Unfortunately for us, most of these fans were wearing red, spoke like true backwater, imbred hicks, and struggled to spell "C-A-R-D-S" correctly. Not only do Louisville fans have the worst cheer in all of college football, but they display the worst tact of any fans as well. They not only chanted "beat Wake Forest high school" ad nauseum, but they also made (and in another sign of brilliance, bought) shirts stating "Beat Wake". They might as well said "We're Goliath, Beat David" on them. At this point, even though I knew that the Deacons were going to get their heads beaten in, nothing would make me happier than to see my team down these clowns.
My contempt for Louisville fans disappeared when we entered the stadium, and my eyes fell upon one of the most beautiful sights that they have ever seen:
We took our seats up in the nosebleeds, and then experienced the most terrifying jet flyover in the history of aviation. After those F-18s put on the afterburners about 15 feet above the stadium, the pants of every fan in the stadium became wet (and it wasn't from the rain).
In retrospect, the first half was somewhat of a snooze. After a scoreless first quarter, sophomore kicker/Heisman candidate Sam Swank notched a field goal to give Wake the early lead. But late in the first half, following a Louisville field goal, the Cards scored on some kind of illegal play where wide receiver Patrick Carter (trick plays are reserved for the underdogs!) to give Louisville a 10-3 lead going into halftime.
My happiness soon turned to sorrow when the halftime "entertainment" was provided by none other than Taylor Hicks. It's not a good sign for the "talent" on American Idol when I can sing better than last season's winner (my demo tape's coming out soon). Then Patty Labelle came on, which would be more exciting if I was thirty years older and could name one of her songs, but her presence upgraded the halftime show's status to tragedy.
But my sadness after the concert only made the second half that much more enjoyable. The Deacons came out of the locker room with their guns drawn as they pounded the Louisville offense on their first two offensive drives:
Then, at the eleven-minute mark of the third quarter, Wake's freshman quarterback and resident god Riley Skinner hit senior wide receiver Nate Morton on a 30-yard touchdown strike to tie the game up at 10-10. At this point, I was screaming as loud as the tailgaters we saw earlier (and I was sober). So you can imagine my excitement when Swank knocked home this field goal to give Wake Forest a fourth quarter lead:
I've never felt so overjoyed and flabbergasted at the same time. Many college football analysts didn't think that Wake would compete, much less take a lead into the fourth quarter. They might pull this off
But from this point, the game turned so sour it should've been called the Lemon Bowl. As all the great teams do, Louisville turned it on when they needed to and drove down the field with robotic precision, scoring on a one-yard run to take the 17-14 lead. After another Demon Deacon punt, the Cards again moved down the field methodically for another touchdown, giving them a 11-point lead with only five minutes to play.
Despite these two deflating drives, I still held out hope. Heck, everyone saw what Boise State did the night before. Why couldn't Wake Forest work the magic that they had all season long? But on the first play of the drive, Skinner was sacked back at the 13-yard-line. While others headed for the exits, I stood cheering. Then Skinner completed a pass of eight yards. Then 26 yards. Then 17. Then four. They were going to do it! For a briefest of moments, it seemed that the Deacons were on the comeback train. But then, this happened:
The William Gay interception sealed up two things; a victory for Louisville, and my heart from ever loving anything again.
On the long walk back to the car, I slowly began to collect myself. The loss had unleashed something that I hadn't felt in a long time; sentimentality. It didn't matter than the refs blew two fumble calls that went against Wake. It didn't matter than God should've sided with my Deacons. They showed up, tried their best, and lost. But you know what, real losers are so afraid of not winning that they don't even try. The Demon Deacons weren't supposed to win this season. But they tried anyway, and as it turned out, they ended up winners. I'd like to think I did the same thing when I tried to encapsulate my entire Orange Bowl experience for you in this post. I might have failed, but hell, at least I tried.
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