Having followed the career of Zach Galifianakis for a long time, I’ve always been sort of surprised that he became a superstar. As both a standup and actor, his style has always been so uncompromisingly odd and niche – even in his breakthrough Hangover role – that he never seemed like someone who would achieve significant mainstream success.
But he did. In fact, his star power became so big that when Baskets, the FX comedy series he created with Louis C.K. and Jonathan Krisel, debuted in January, it became the highest-rated cable premier in two years. And yet, when presented with this particular bit of audacious weirdness from Galifianakis, a good chunk of the show’s initial audience seemed turned off and by season’s end, viewership had dipped by almost 50 percent.
And that substantial loss of audience, dear readers, is a pity, because those people tuned out one of the best and most strangely endearing shows to hit the airwaves in some time.
It looks like wood, but is actually made of metal.
Score: 3/10 (Deceiving, yet functional as a chair)
Sigh… Love. What a beautiful thing. There is nothing more splendid that finding that one perfect match for you. The one person that matches you to the deepest degree. The person with which you can make sensual, sweet love for the rest of your life. Your soul mate.
Sadly, not everyone is equally able to find that elusive love. I am one of those people. No matter where I go, what I say or how I dress, women quite simply aren’t interested in anything I have to offer. Perhaps it is because I’m prematurely balding? Well, I’m also fat… that probably has something to do with it. I’m also blessed with a face that resembles a burn victim, though my scars were caused by years of teenage acne as opposed to the raging flames of a house fire. I know I’m not the only one. No, there are dozens of us! People who can’t seem to find love are all around you, sulking in the shadows of your happiness, holding a gun to our heads and masturbating with Kroger-brand unscented lotion.
However, many of us have our ways of finding women even if they aren’t interested in us. The only one I’ve ever participated in is drastically lowering my standards, accepting anything with a vagina and a heartbeat. Well… a vagina at least. Sounds sad, doesn’t it? The dead ones are much better than the morbidly obese, bearded man-ladies I often take home.
The other two options are ones I’m not so fond of, but I’ve heard they work. The first is slipping a rufilin into a girl’s drink, taking her home and having your way with her. The other is very similar to the roofie trick, only much cheaper. Simply grab a brick or large rock off the ground, and instead of slipping it into her drink, bash your selected lover over the skull with it. Same effect of date rape drugs without the expense and risk of haggling with a shady drug dealer.
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Yes. Prepared Squid Jerky. Shredded, dried, put into a package, and sold at the Asian Market.
What’s that? You think that sounds gross? If you think itsounds gross, you should smell it.
Wel-Pac Prepared Squid Jerky smells like spicy, old fish. Or a sweaty, unwashed, well-sexed prostitute snatch. And by snatch I mean vagina. And by vagina I mean ham wallet. And by ham wallet I mean vagina.
What’s that? You think that sounds like it smells gross? Then you should taste it.
Wel-Pac Prepared Squid Jerky has the stringy, stale texture of a dead girl’s hair. It is chewy like a water balloon. It is dry until you grind it between your teeth, at which point it seems to explode with fishy juices. Of course that’s just your saliva mixing with the powerful flavor of dried, prepared squid. Certain pieces pop in your mouth. I don’t know why… I don’t want to know why. The “hot” flavor is a mix of sweet, musk, salt and spice, which creates a really awkward, some say sickening blend of flavors on your palate.
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Moonrise Kingdom is classic Wes Anderson. Every film that Wes Anderson has ever directed has been classic Wes Anderson, and it’s this feeling of excessive self-awareness that prevents his latest film from exceeding the hype that has surrounded it since its release. Anderson takes a pretty common human experience (in this case, young love), peppers it with a cast of unique characters played by recognizable actors in a bygone romanticized era, and mixes in equal parts classical and surreal to the plot to make some sort of Wes Anderson buffet that tastes exactly like the buffet he’s been serving us for over a decade. Everything still tastes good, maybe just okay these days. It’s filling enough, but there’s an emptiness that persists not so long after that makes you wonder why you keep coming back when there might be more exciting options available.
Cue Rocket Man music
Out there… flying through the air. Red Bull gives you wings? This stuff known as Rocket Chocolate is supposed to make you fly through the air faster than a speeding bullet. But is it all that it claims? It says that it has twice the caffeine. But it doesn’t say what product it has twice as much caffeine as. Another part of the package says ‘Boosts like a cup of coffee’. Of course the package doesn’t list anything at all.
I couldn’t find anything on their site, so there’s really no telling at all what is in it. Bad score there. Bad form, too. The little package does, however, have a little drawing of a rocket ship. Each wrapper is differently colored according to flavor. The ingredients list on this one (Chocolate Mint flavor) states milk chocolate, lecithin, vanillin, coconut oil, caffeine, natural peppermint oil, glycerine. It also has a warning that it may contain traces of peanut butter. Good thing I’m not allergic to that.
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How long has Burger King had breakfast?
As long as I can consciously remember. I’m sure if I dug deep enough into my suppressed memory I would be able to find a time that the King didn’t offer as much saturated fat as Roseanne Barr’s left thigh in the morning hours, but doing so is dangerous. Who knows what else I might find while digging through the purposefully forgotten banks of my memories? Forgotten stories of Uncle Chuck’s “games”? Concealed memories of my infant brother Todd, whom in a fit of jealous range I suffocated and ate, only to have my parents convince me it was just a dream so I could grow up and continue to function?
Nah, none of that stuff ever happened to me. But I feel bad for the sorry sonofabitch who just remembered losing his virginity to the football team when he was only seven years old.
Wait what was my point? Oh yeah! Have you seen those awful new commercials of BK promoting their “New” breakfast menu? If not, good for you. I don’t understand it. BK has had breakfast for a really long time, why are they promoting it like it’s something wholly new just because they added like five new items and switched their coffee brand?
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I first stumbled across feel good anthem band Fang Island in 2010 shortly following the release of their self-titled album, and they quickly climbed to the top of my most listened to bands. Their overly awesome riff-heavy, guitar-driven sound — accompanied by an overall lightheartedness — was just something that clicked with me. Two years later and they’re still one of my favorite bands for summertime drives, with the windows down and no destination in mind.
Their follow-up, Major, is an equally awesome collection of rambunctiousness that I was highly anticipating. After a few days of nearly constant listening, I’ve found that my eagerness for Major — which has its flaws — was certainly warranted. Continue reading
Ted is the relatively simple tale of boy and toy, seen through the sometimes perverse, but often hilarious eyes of Seth MacFarlane (Family Guy, American Dad). MacFarlane, who directs and provides the voice of the title character (a teddy bear brought to life through a young boy’s Christmas wish), gives us a comedy that stands out not only because it’s MacFarlane’s first live action directed feature, but because it also ironically takes what would seem to be the plot of a G-rated movie and converts it into R-rated glory packed with MacFarlane’s signature brand of pop culture laden crude humor. Ted is exactly what you’d expect– funny and simple– but with a surprising ability to blend its fantastical premise with some genuine emotion.
Dead City opens with odd reports of survivors attacking rescue workers after five powerful hurricanes have pounded the Gulf of Mexico and left the surrounding cities absolutely devastated. Just out of reach of harm’s way, San Antonio, Texas has become a popular safe zone for emergency shelters and evacuees from the destroyed cities. This is where our story begins. Following local police officer Eddie Hudson, Dead City wastes very little time establishing anything aside from a very basic setting and quick introduction of the main character (just enough to let you know that he’s a cop with a wife and new baby son), and instead throws readers into the opening scenes of the zombie apocalypse right away.
Early on in the book I was very unsure of how much I would enjoy it because of how quickly the author puts everything into motion. I don’t mean that it happens too early in the book, but he chose for the first event to pop up suddenly, but had the destruction spread too quickly to be considered logical.