(*Author’s note: I’ve heard it. You’ve heard it. You can’t unhear it. The world’s ending tomorrow anyway, so why don’t we just spend a gratuitous amount of time breaking down the worst song of 2012, Taylor Swift’s We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together. Swift’s actual lyrics are in the largest font and italicized. If you can actually follow this garbled up bunch of Burn, than you’re probably a genius. Good luck.)
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(*Author’s note: I understand that this movie is out already. So if you’ve seen it, you already know how many of these prognostications come true. If you haven’t, here are a few things to — potentially — brace yourself for.)
1. There will be an excruciatingly racist, token black hobbit, who will call The Shire, “The Sheezy.” This character will die within 10 minutes of the start of the film.
2. If you are able to watch the movie at its 48-frames-per-second speed, at some point, you will sit up like Neo, post-first-trip-into-the-Matrix, claim you know Kung Fu and puke onto the floor. This will happen. Maybe more than once, probably. Just wait.
3. Gandalf will slam his staff into something and shout.
4. Someone you’re watching the movie with will refer to Bilbo as “Dildo” and will think that this is, indeed, high comedy.
5. There will be more shaggy hair than at a 311 Concert. And maybe more smoking? (*Author’s note: what’s in Gandalf’s pipe, really? I mean, what kind of stuff would a wizard smoke? I mean, he’s capable of performing magic, being re-born, and defeating hordes of evil creatures with a nothing more than a glorified walking stick. Can you imagine what he smokes? My guess is **SPOILER ALERT** probably bath salt.)
I think we all know what’s in the pipe, Peter Jackson. . .
6. The Hobbits will re-attempt to make grody, hairy feet all the rage. Your welcome, Sasquatch.
7. Each scene will take 37.5 minutes. How else, for the love of GOD!, could they make one book into three movies?!? What next? The Berenstain Bears will get a 6 part mini-series on AMC?
Coming soon. . .
8. The pressure will be on Skinnypeter Jackson to try to outdo Fatpeter Jackson. Can he shake the stigma that has plagued the now-unfunny Skinnydrew Carey and the now-potentially-getting-fired-by-the-Jets Skinnyrex Ryan and actually be a better version of himself after he’s shed some lbs? Somewhere Skinnyjonah Hill is nodding his head hoping that Jackson can buck the trend.
9. Gollum will bear a striking resemblance to Kim Kardashian’s publicist. He will also possess a ring for about as long as Kim Kardashian.
10. I will continue to call this movie The Bobbitt in the hopes that someone will find it funny. I won’t stop, America. It’s up to you where we go from here.
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On a day when I started watching Halloween 4 at 5:15 in the morning, while feeding my sleeping 4 month old son, I want to take a moment to celebrate the things I enjoy about Horror movies. Are some of them formulaic? Of course. Are some of them as old-hat as an Abe Lincoln stovepipe? Hell yes. But that doesn’t mean they don’t work. Wheels are still round, aren’t they?
Since we all love a good bracket (*Author’s note: in spite of the insufferably overused term “bracketology” I couldn’t resist. Clichés are something I completely detest but. . .when in Rome. Damn it.) and so here’s a quick one that I whipped up in between cramming my cram-hole full of candy and jamming my eye-sockets with so much Horror movie that there’s hardly any room for my pupils.
Jump in, debate, let me know what your take is. As always, audience participation is welcomed.
- The 1 V.S. 8 matchup here may seem was a no brainer for me. I know. . .I know. All you perv-jobs out there are probably shouting at your computer screen, “Wait just a damn minute!” And franchises like Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th are undoubtedly and irrevocably altered without their cheap-nudity staple: the shower scene. I will be the first to agree that there is something vulnerable, something a little unnerving about stripping down and jumping into a confined space with bad footing and closing your eyes for an extended period of time, but Creepy Kids definitely had too much going for it. When done right, the creepy kid movie can rattle you to your bone marrow, have you checking over your shoulder when you hear the sounds of a tricycle (*Author’s note: The Omen fans know what I’m talking about here) and have you turning down the invite to come babysit for cash.
Winner: Creepy Kids
- The 2 V.S. 7 matchup was a little tougher for me than the 1-8. While I am a firm believer that a terrifying, bone chilling musical score can alter the course of a movie, I also have (as strange as this may sound) a soft spot in my heart for psychopathic, demented, unstoppable serial killer/monsters. Michael Myers, Jason Vorhees, Freddy Krueger and the Leprechaun from Leprechaun all come to mind immediately. The last one leaves my mind just as quickly. The list goes on and on. However, two of my favorite movies of all time, horror or otherwise, are Jaws and Halloween. Each of those movies is completely different without their music. Another of my all-time favorite horror movies, The Shining, utilizes gnawing, nerve-jangling noises to put you nauseously ill-at-ease.
Winner: Pants-peeing music
- The 3 V.S. 6 matchup was another tough call for me. On the one hand we have the root of all evil. A sure-fire horror movie “don’t”. Underage drinking. If you booze in horror movies, you’re going to die. Probably brutally. Probably bloodily. You’re probably going to go straight from a keg stand to a leg/hand missing. The probability of you dying increases by 4 with each 6 pack you crush, by 6 with each keg that you purchase, and exponentially with each bottle that you steal/pilfer from your parents’ stash. But I love the look of a steadicam in a horror movie; the feel of it. It makes your skin crawl. Nothing puts you better in the murderer’s perspective than a slow steadicam approach from behind or a swift steadicam rush from the side. Nothing.
Winner: Steadicam shots
- The 4 V.S. 5 matchup features two other staples of the horror genre. The dream sequence and doing drugs. While I firmly believe that, in a unique and revolutionary new tactic, the D.A.R.E. program should splice together gruesomely unedited highlights of party scenes gone awry from every Friday the 13th ever to show kids what drug use will lead to, there just isn’t enough to topple the mighty dream sequences. Or am I dreaming right now? Uh-oh. . .Nightmare on Elm Street lives on this very idea. But, wait, what’s scarier than nightmares? The answer — and the reason that drugs wins this category? — BATH SALTS! The scariest thing ever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Winner: Drugs = Death
IN ROUND 2:
- Steadicam shots shocks the world by upsetting Creepy Kids. I’ve told you this one, I’m obsessed with the way steadicams shots look in cinema. You could shoot a Michael Bay movie on them and they would be terrifying. Now, when you combine these two goliaths of horror? You get phenomenally terrifying horror flicks. Bless you, Stanley Kubrick.
Winner: Steadicam Shots
- Pants-Peeing Music sneaks out a win over Drugs = Death. Have you ever heard the theme song to Halloween? Three bars of that 6/8 time death march has me ready to sprint manically away from the nothing hunting me until my legs fall off (*Author’s note: in my current physical condition, that’s about 40 yards.). Kimbo Slice would wet himself the moment he heard the jarring strings, creaking vilely, signaling the complete mental collapse of Jack Torrance as he toes the line to murderous insanity. But on the other hand. . .BATH SALTS!!!!!!!!!!!!
Winner: Pants-Peeing Music
AND IN THE FINAL SHOWDOWN:
- Pants-Peeing Music wins in a heavyweight slugfest. There are just more movies that have utilized creepy-ass music to set the tone than have used the steadicam. While I fully blame directors for this egregious oversight, steadicams are also highly expensive in an industry known for being very low-budget. In the end, though, aren’t we all winners, horror fans?
Winner: Everyone everywhere. Wait, what’s that behind you. . .oh, no! Look out. . .it’s bath salts!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Alex Cross is in theaters now. This is relatively unremarkable since there are two other movies based on the series of James Patterson novels and these sorts of detective novels seem to pull is in time and again. But there is most certainly something remarkable going on in theaters around the country right now.
We love a good mystery, here in this great nation, and right now we’ve found ourselves facing another one. This riddle, this enigmatic and doused-in-suspense mystery is cloaked in a layer after layer of shadowy misinformation and it has a terrifying plot twist that awaits behind its shroud. What’s the mystery, you ask? It’s a simple question. But a question that has far reaching and horrifying implications. Are you ready?
How in the F- did Tyler Perry get a job starring in a movie that’s supposed to be a suspense/thriller?
That’s not a typo. There’s not some hot new actor who shares a name with the bazillionaire a-hole who has been force-feeding us schlock on TBS as fast as he can shovel it with his platinum-encrusted backhoe. This is the guy who cranks out more movies than Nicholas Cage can even hang with (*Author’s note: 10 in the last two years, plus the visual waterboarding that is House of Payne, his TBS T.V. show)
The guy who puts his name on more stuff than Donald Trump is playing a detective. Not only that, but he’s not a bumbling detective or the crappy comedy relief in a buddy cop film. No, he’s the title character. He’s the super-smart, legions-of-fans-possessing Alex Cross who’s solved crime after crime in a sophisticated, rational manner.
Tyler Perry isn’t departing from his usual roles, to star in a taut, sleek, psychological thriller. He’s ejecting from them at 129,000 feet, plummeting in a wild death spiral down past Felix Baumgartner and crash landing into a crater large enough to form the next Lake Okoboji. Normally he’s the guy that’s in terrible drag, screaming in a high-pitched, noxious voice that dental-drills its way into your mind. He’s the guy dancing around in creepy drag like some unholy mixture of Norman Bates’ “mother” and that obscene title character in Big Momma’s House.
To make matters worse (*Author’s note: for them? For us? For the production studio? We’re all losers in this scenario) the role of Alex Cross has fallen into Perry’s cash-filled hands after previously being played by none other than Morgan Freeman. Going from the quietly brilliant gravitas of Freeman to the walking, breathing punchline that is Tyler Perry (*Author’s note: and everything that he stands for?)? A tragically breathtaking mistake; a Custer-underestimating-the-Native-Americans-at-Little-Bighorn kind of mistake.
Freeman is the Tom Osborne of cinema. Unflappable, paternally stern, and always seeming capable of shedding his quiet demeanor at a moments notice to rally and defend all those around him. Perry is the diametric opposite. He’s the Bobby Petrino of cinema. Filthy rich, questionably intentioned, and he could very well drive this movie off the road, crashing it into a flaming pile of rubble.
The fact that Tyler Perry got this role got me thinking. If he’s able to somehow snatch this role due to his serious acting chops gigantic wallet. What other films are next? What’s the next move for Tyler Perry, renaissance man of the silver screen?
Here are a couple of movies that I think he might be working on next:
Tyler Perry Presents: To Kill A Mockingbird
Who better to star as Atticus finch in the special Tyler Perry edition of the 50th Anniversary version of this cinematic and literary classic? What’s that you say? This movie is all about racial dignity, truth, justice and the gravity of humans being treated as they deserve? Perfect for Tyler Perry. He did, after all, create the T.V. show Meet the Browns.
To Kill a Mockingbird also has some of the most famous courtroom scenes in movie history. This fact is widely recognized by many movie databases and ranking systems, which is perfect since Tyler Perry’s cinematic masterpiece Madea Goes to Jail, too, showed how courtrooms can be places of intense feeling and emotion.
Tyler Perry is: The Hobbit
Peter Jackson has 3 Academy Award Wins, Tyler Perry should have at least six Oscars. Can you imagine anything better than Bilbo Perry, in full Madea wig, setting out on a quest through the perilous lands outside the Shire? I definitely can’t. Smaug the Dragon will also be played by Tyler Perry. They won’t even bother to CG his face on the dragon, they’ll just lazily throw him into a fat suit, slap a green tail on it and have him run around shouting “I am Smaug!” so that way Perry can pocket the rest of the cash himself. The movie will gross $800 million like every other Tyler Perry movie and we’ll be left wondering who will take over the world first: Mark Zuckerberg or Tyler Perry.
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Chris Berman recently received a new, multi-year deal with ESPN. The details of this deal are a little murky, as they generally seem to be with T.V. broadcasters, but Berman is rumored to make around $3 Million a year. (*Author’s note: that same article had Joe Buck making $5 Mill. Which begs the question, “what the F!?!?!?”)
I know Berman has been with ESPN for nearly their entire run. I understand that he’s one of their more famous anchors. But, seriously, ESPN? Berman/Boomer/The Swami? You chose to walk in and make it rain on a 57-year-old man who grunts and growls unintelligibly in an attempt to break down game footage and invariably ends up sounding like someone crossbred a Cro-Magnon man with John Madden?
I had high hopes that, in the near future, he would be retiring. That he would be stepping down; dropping his mic like B-Rabbit, post-freestyle, and slowly walking out towards the nearest golf course where the only dress code is “Must Wear Hawaiian shirts. . .always”
I even hoped that he might have a Network style breakdown on air or go all Jimmy the Greek on himself.
But since he’s apparently sticking around, and not wandering out to Alaska to live in a run-down schoolbus like Sean Penn and I had dreamed about, I thought that I would come up with a few other ideas on how ESPN could have better invested the pile of cash that they spent retaining his services.
- An on-air special, showing David Stern euthanizing the WNBA league.
- A golden-fiber bib for Lou Holtz to wear as he chugs his Benefiber smoothies and then slobbers on about how much he loves Notre Dame.
- Airing a track meet as it happens, instead of waiting until 2 days later and then showing a bunch of races we already know the outcome to. (*Author’s note: like watching a re-run of one of your favorite shows. No pun intended.)
- Paying off 1/3 of Jesse Palmer’s outstanding balance at Max Tan.
- A new reality show featuring OJ’s run for MVP in the Nevada Penal League’s Flag Football championships.
- A reality show where Bruce Jenner attempts to make a comeback in the Masters division.
- Buying the old statue of Joe Paterno and having a nationally televised show where it is melted down and converted into multiple sewage drains.
- Buy the rights for Slam Ball and air it 3 times a week.
- Cover Tim Tebow a little more. (*Author’s note: and that is how much I dislike Chris Berman.
- Pay to have Stephen A. Smith’s mouth Matrixed closed.
- Put that money into a pot and have an all-ESPN sports battle, winner take all, a la Battle of the Network Stars.
- Start a new show featuring up-and-coming journalists who are forced to ask stupendously moronic questions to Frank Martin, Bo Pelini, Nick Saban, Bill Belichik, Brian Kelly, Bobby Knight, Bobby Cox, and Pat Riley. 3 times a week. The show would be titled: The League of Extraordinarily Pissed Off Gentlemen.
- This. They could just do this:
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During today’s Olympic opening ceremonies, Burnpoetry would like to pay tribute to Kippy Strug, American hero.
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Right now, two things are taking over my television set: NBA free agency and ads for the remake of the classically ridiculous Total Recall. Believe it or not, I’m not actually here to make fun of the new Total Recall. It looks like it could be the kind of gritty, Bladerunner-esque future that I love to see in Sci-Fi movies. I like Colin Farrell and think that he’ll do an above average job as the 2012 version of The Governator.
What I do like to make fun of, however, is Arnold Schwarzenegger movies featuring a scantily clad Sharon Stone and a ridiculous host of costumes that look like they were stolen off of George Lucas’ alien mulch pile and slapped onto the bigscreen. While the remake doesn’t come out until August, the PR machine is in full effect, especially on ESPN and other channels frequented by “dudes.” (*Author’s note: because clearly “dudes” are the key demographic for Sci-Fi movies. Just ask the 4 trillion Prometheus ads that either feature beer or ESPN blowhard Stephen A. Smith’s broke ass.)
How does this tie into the NBA, you might be asking? Everything ties into the NBA. At least in my own, warped, mind. Especially when the National Basketball Association has had another fascinating offseason. I’ll be tying this whole loosely formulated idea together by utilizing the many faces of one of the best actors of his or any generation: Arnold Alois Schwarzenegger.
While I was watching the original Total Recall, I was playing a game I like to call “Pause-face.” If you couldn’t guess by its name, the object of the game is to pause the TV while the person that’s on it is pulling the most ridiculous face. You can frame-by-frame it, try to go for a straight pause, or even try the jump-back pause if you’re up for a challenge. The Governator is the Edwin Moses of Pause-facing. If you made a Mount Rushmore of the sport, he’d have all four faces. And they’d all be sublimely ridiculous.
This most recent game of Pause-face gave me an idea: why not set up a ranking system for the NBA’s most fascinating offseason moves, by looking for a few of the internet’s best Schwarzenegger pause-faces.
Ray Allen to the Miami Heat
(*Author’s note: I’m I the only one left that still calls Ray, “Jesus Shuttlesworth”? All hail, He Got Game!)
Allen, he with the most 3 pointers made in NBA history, found himself in a strange position this offseason. He had gone to Boston, a big piece of the original “Big 3″, — a group people seemed to hate far less than the current rendition that’s standing atop the league at the current moment — won a title and was highly successful in the shamrock green and whites.
But, he’s old.
At 36, he’s roughly 65 in basketball years and his age/nagging injuries seemed to catch up with him towards the end of the Celtics’ playoff run. So how did the Miami Heat lure Jesus Shuttlesworth away?
I’m guessing that they got his Denzel Washington looking father out of the state penitentiary – by way of a corruptible warden that is a die-hard Heat fan – and tried to convince him to play his wayward-father-still-bearing-influence-on-his-emotionally-damaged-child card. And there’s probably a gratuitous 3-way mixed in there as well.
All He Got Game references aside, a saavy veteran like Allen taking less money to head to a team where wide open 3 point looks abound? Not that shocking. The fact that he went from Celtics to Heat, thereby baiting the over-the-top hatred and scorn of the borderline psychotic Boston fanbase? A little shocking.
Pause-face level of excitement/shock:
Jeremy Lin to the Houston Rockets
Linsanity exploded onto New York this year. Coming from nowhere, or as nowhere as an Ivy League college can ever be, Jeremy Lin got up from crashing on his brother’s couch and crashed the National Basketball Association’s party. The ensuing aftershocks, replete with terrible puns, racist Asian jokes, and heaping, steaming piles of cash, were enough to propel Lin to a position of power in the free agent market.
Then James Dolan happened.
Yes, the guy who let Isaiah Thomas carbomb the entire franchise. Yes, the same guy who just went out and got a 39-year-old Jason Kidd (*Author’s note: who celebrated his highway robbery by getting loaded and crashing into a lightpole) and Raymond “I’ll Have the Quarter Pounder Meal, Large Sized” Felton.
After telling Jeremy Lin that he should feel free to shop his talents around, and implying that they would match any offer Lin could get to retain his services, the Knicks became suddenly defensive when Lin did just that. The Rockets, still counting their piles of money from their last Asian market crossover star, promptly offered him a massive deal and when it was suddenly Dolan’s turn to keep his word, he balked.
Can Lin continue his meteoric rise to the heights of the NBA? Or will the ever-present turnover issues de-rail him? I’d guess somewhere in between. Do I believe that the Knicks, who reports have estimated have already lost somewhere in the $50 million dollar range on their value since losing Lin, should have kept this young, talented PG? Definitely.
Dolan is the guy that tells his girlfriend, “I think we should see other people.” And then when he sees his girlfriend out at a candlelit dinner with a Jockey underwear model, he loses his shit and sends her a bunch of angry, emoticon-filled text messages.
Pause-face level of excitement/shock:
Steve Nash to the Los Angeles Lakers
There’s, legitimately only 1 guy in the league that will make your fan base happy that you just went out and spent assets to get older, whiter, and more unintimidating. That’s Nash. He’s a 2-time MVP, even if his back to back wins for the award seem a little flawed, and one of the best passers the league has ever seen. He should hopefully rejuvenate the bearded corpse that was Pau Gasol, take a little of the pressure off of Kobe, and bring some fluidity to an offense that had all the flow of Jiff Extra Chunky during Mike Brown’s first season at the helm.
Will his body hold out? He’ll turn 39 next year and his back will be celebrating it’s 123rd birthday on opening day of the season. Nash is notoriously good about taking care of his body, though, and played exceedingly well last season considering his second best player was Marcin Gortat.
Pause-face level of excitement/shock:
(*Author’s Note: Yes, that’s Schwarzenegger. He decides to sneak onto Mars disguised in a fat, terribly constructed woman suit that promptly malfunctions. Turns out the Governator sucks at being the Undercovernator.)
Dwight Howard to. . .Wait, You Mean He’s Still on the Orlando Magic?!?! What the hell!?!?
Yes. Dwight Howard is still with the Magic. No, I don’t think anyone has the slightest F-ing clue if he’ll ever get traded. Every morning ESPN trots out a bevy of whack jobs (captained by the notorious and aforementioned Stephen A. Smith) who all claim there’s been movement on some kind of deal sending Howard somewhere.
I’m not sure what Dwight envisioned for himself, but I’m guessing this wasn’t it. He’s quickly become the most reviled player in the league, even though some of us still hold a special, contemptible place in our cynical hearts for LeBron, and he has made blunder after blunder after bungle.
Will Dwight end up in Houston? Will he end up somehow getting shipped to the Los Angeles Lakers? (*Author’s note: Damn, I hope so) Did he hire the same PR firm that masterminded “The Decision” and the “Mission Accomplished” banner from the early 2000′s that haunts Americans to this day?
The fact that he’s still in Orlando, untraded, despised, and that Brooklyn decided to massively overpay a dude named Brook instead of continuing to try to make moves to acquire him leads me to this. . .
Pause-face level of excitement/shock:
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It’s that time of year again, sports fanatics. The time of year when there’s so little actually going on in the sporting world that all we can do is constantly recap the year that was. With WNBA “highlights” and a merciful pause in baseball for the All-Star game this is the time of year that bears a good deal of reflection. This year’s Hatchspys promises to be a star-studded affair and, while I don’t have a red carpet for anyone to walk, I did lay down a silky smooth layer of hate for the sports stars to enjoy.
Without further ado, Ladies and Gentleman of Burnpoetry, I present to you: the 2012 Hatchspys.
Beadiest Eyes in Football:
Eli Manning
Eli always looks like he’s the kid down the block who’s been staring directly at the solar eclipse in spite of his Mother’s warnings. Despite having his eyes open exactly the same amount as a stoner looking downward at a bag of Doritos, Eli led his team to the Super Bowl Championship. His 9-year-old’s-first-day-of-school bowl cut and eyes that are as beady as a chipmunk at midnight make Eli the least intimidating badass in the game today. Or should I say bead-ass? (*Author’s note: I apologize.)
Best Twitter Handle (TIE)
Demarcus Cousins and Nick Young
Believe it or not, this is actually not the “athlete most likely to wake up next to a Kardashian sister while using a dimebag as a pillow” category. Thankfully I have decided to eschew that category for one with a whole lot more gravitas and relevancy. Cousins goes by the hilarious “boogiecousins” handle and Young, who dresses like a member of The Doors heading to his ashram to buy more drugs, goes by “nickswagypyoung.”
These guys epitomize the out-and-out insanity of young ballplayers given a public forum to try to develop coherent thoughts before a Playa Hater’s Ball-esque public. (*Author’s note: see: me. Or idiots like me)
The Tiger Woods Memorial Trophy for Biggest Perv-Job in Sports
Bob Kraft (With a Pervy Buzzerbeater!)
The 71-year-old owner of the New England Patriots has recently had an absurdly creepy video pop up of him helping his 30-something girlfriend go over her lines for a movie tryout she’s attempting to pull off. Kraft’s net worth is hovering somewhere around 1.7 billion, but his perviness is definitely somewhere between previous dis-honorees, Lawrence Taylor and Tiger Woods. Try to watch this video and not desperately look around for some napalm to try to shower in. Just try.
(*Author’s note: 1.7 Billi buys a whole helluva lot of acting lessons, Bobby.)
Best Facial Hair
Anthony Davis
With all due respect to James Harden’s beard, the most talked about hair on any athlete’s face this year has to be Davis’ now infamous unibrow.
Not technically facial hair, you say? It’s more porn-stache than eyebrow. It’s more Jacob from the Twilight movies, mid-werewolfing than eyebrow. That is facial hair. Not “those” are facial hair. This is singular. Unified. The hairs on Davis’ face are practically stitched together like a fine, wall-hanging tapestry. They’re genetically reaching for one another and hanging on like someone’s trying to break through them in a facial game of Red Rover. (*Author’s note: Alright, I’m done now.)
Strangest Twist of Sports Fate
Michael Jordan
Jordan, the once-proud best athlete on the planet has suddenly found himself doing something entirely new to his name: losing. As a player, the only time Jordan lost was on the baseball field, the first half of Space Jam, and at casinos. As a GM and owner of the Charlotte Bobcats? He has a team that was putrid last season. Worst than putrid. They were pretty much the antithesis of the 1997, 72-10 Bulls squad. They couldn’t win. They were all overpaid and underachieving. The strangest part of it all? Michael Jordan is at the helm.
Former NBA greats don’t always make great NBA executives, but Larry Bird has shown a knack for it that you know is making MJ scramble to regain his reputation. Jordan has been teetering closely towards losing some of that famous mystique. How you ask? By making terrible managerial decisions. Oh, and he dresses like this:
NFL Player Who Most Looks Like he Spent his Contract Holdout Hunting Humans for Sport in a Brutal Intergalactic Form of Building Honor
Chris Johnson
(*Author’s note: and to all you Sci-Fi Nerds — read: me — I know that CJ2k is a little short to be a predator. But look at those dreds. And the metallic teeth? C’mon, son.)
Worst Announcing Tandem
Joe Buck and Troy Aikman
(*Author’s note: these guys narrowly edged out perennial contender “Chris Berman and anyone“.)
These guys have all the flavor of roasted cardboard. Buck seems determined to prove to the world that an announcer with all the personality of a Walking Dead zombie, who seems as excited to be at some of the world’s best sporting events as a student is about his 8:00 AM micro-economics class can succeed based solely on his father’s reputation.
Aikman is a glass filled to the brim with milque served with a heaping side of toast. It’s a bad tandem when I’d rather watch the Rent-A-Center ads featuring the dynamic duo of Hulk Hogan and Aikman over Buck and Aik doing their thing on gamedays.
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(*Author’s note: I know. Nothing more cliché than a steaming pile of memes. However, I can’t resist. If you know me, you know that I love corny-ass jokes mixed with strange photos. And, in a blatant and weird homage to 1999, I’ve decided to glitch the Matrix and repeat the picture with slightly different captions. I took this photo, much to my Wife’s disgust who finds my love of photographing the T.V. to be utterly absurd, during game one of the NBA Finals. Here we go. . .)
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