Posts Tagged ‘Pop Culture’

(*Author’s note: as it is nearing Halloween, the Huskers have yet another bye week and since the NFL will be closing sooner than any of us would like to think due to concussion-related woes, I decided that now would be the ideal time to found a new entertainment league.

As a horror movie aficionado, who is currently busy gorging myself on slasher films, thrillers, and terribly acted teen murder movies that grace the entire month of October, I decided that we should set up an imaginary league that will allow the general public, or the whack-jobs like myself who love the horror film genre, a way to debate and enjoy their favorite psychopaths and villains.  This first post will discuss the layout and division of the league and lay the foundation for when/where/and how the league will work.  The next post will chronicle the NHA draft.)

Location for the Draft:  If this event were to happen, it would have to go down in New York.  Even though, in the horror genre, there’s not a more disgusting, vile, easy-to-slash-people-in-broad-daylight-and-get-away-with-it kind of city.

(*Author’s note: seriously, New York is the villain in more than a few slasher flicks.  It’s ridiculous.  I’ve been there and I wasn’t stabbed a single time and the worst thing that happened to me was a dude trying to sell me a fake Rolex.  After I declined, he offered me weed directly in front of my parents.  I bought neither but found the city to be amazing and entirely devoid of serial killers and dead bodies on every corner.)

Since we have a location, the draft would also have to be televised.

I’m thinking the SyFy network would be the ideal candidate.  They continue defy all human logic by turning a profit and, despite their gratuitous lack of spelling ability, have the audience base that would be willing to turn off their X-Box 360s and put down their graphic novels to watch such a historic event.

The eight teams would need managers and home cities to represent in the National Horror Association.  Without further ado, ladies and gentleman of No Coast Bias, I give you the teams and managers of this new league.

The Minneapolis Maybe He’s Actually Dead This Times

(Owner: George A. Romero)

The zombie king loves himself some horror movies.  While the league doesn’t cater specifically to the undead hordes that Romero tends to love the most, he would be an ideal owner due to the fact that the zombie industry is currently responsible for half of our national GDP.  Seriously.  The Government may be shut down but if they could just work out some kind of profit sharing with The Walking Dead (*Author’s note: and its 16 Million viewers that watched the season debut on Monday) we’d be home free.

The Philadelphia Flickering Lights

(Owner: Jack Nicholson)


Jack Nicholson has starred in more horror movies than he’d like to admit.  Some were okay (see: Wolf), some were great (see: The Shining) and some were dirt (see: The Witches of Eastwick and any other movie that stars Cher, really).  However, one thing is clear: Jack has a lot of free time and there are only so many 18-year-olds and only so many you nights you can spend free-basing a Viagra buffet before you just need to find something else to do.  Here’s Jack’s chance.  He’s a horror movie icon and you can just imagine the highly dramatic rants he could use when chastising the media.  In fact, here’s what he’d look like telling reporters to come after him, because he’s a man and he’s 40.  Or 75.

The Niagara Trips and Falls Over Nothings

(Owner: M. Night Shyamalan)

Shyamalan, once a promising rookie on the horror movie scene, hit a sophomore slump that’s lasted all the way to graduate school.  He had a legitimately creepy, smash hit in The Sixth Sense and followed that up with the utterly horrifying Stuart Little (*Author’s note: has there ever been a stranger 1-2 punch than a horror phenom cranking out The Sixth Sense followed up immediately by a kids movie about a family dumb enough to adopt a mouse?  Let me repeat: THEY ADOPTED A MOUSE!)  He then peaked with Signs, which was one of the creepier Alien movies of the early 2000s, and wrote half of a really scary movie called The Village.

After the midway point in The Village, Shyamalan’s career took a downward turn.  He started believing the hype surrounding his mini-empire in the making and cranked out a series of craptastic movies, including one where plants try to kill “The New Girl” and her husband, Marky Mark.  He is the horror equivalent of Shawn Kemp: a staggering amount of potential and a great beginning of his career that crashes to a brutal, overweight (or in this case over budget) end.  So, M. Night’s final tally?  2.5 scary movies, millions in the bank from his early successes and now he’s making a comeback by owning a team.  He needs this more than anyone.

Pittsburgh Pre-Marital Sexers

(Owner: Jamie Lee Curtis)


Jamie Lee Curtis was once labeled a “Scream Queen” by people who can apparently appoint you as such.  She had an epic run of horror movie madness starting with her starring role in the ultimate slasher film (*Author’s note: I’ll debate you on this if you challenge me) Halloween.  She followed that up two years later with The FogProm Night, and Terror Train in 1980 and then brought it home with Road Games, Halloween II, and a made-for-T.V. joint called Death of a Centerfold: The Dorothy Stratten Story.  That’s the horror equivalent of the early 2000s Lakers teams.  She also starred in a cinematic gem called Freaky Friday which, despite it’s title, wasn’t designed to be a horror movie.  We’ll give her bonus points for working with Lindsay Lohan, who at that time was almost certainly psychotically addicted to blow and was challenging Macauly Culkin for the “too much, too soon” all-time championship.  So good a stretch did Curtis have in her heyday, that we can even forgive her for now pitching products to help old people poop more often.  Welcome to the league.

The Portland Prank Calls From the Killer

(Owner: Wes Craven)

Craven is horror movie royalty.  The creator of not one but two horror super-franchises, having created both the Nightmare on Elm Street franchise and the Scream movies, and having written and directed countless other horror movies, he makes perfect sense to man this franchise.

The Dallas Dream Within a Dream Sequences

(Owner: Stephen King)

He’s a bajillion-kajillion-quintillionaire.  As the esteemed pop culture critics, the Ying Yang twins, would say: he’s got fifty-leven billion dollars.  He’s the best horror story writer since Edgar Allan Poe and countless novels and short stories of his have been turned into movies that range anywhere from terrible to awesome.  Are most of his books and stories far, far better than his TV and/or major motion pictures?  Certainly.  Should that stop one of the biggest names in the genre from owning a franchise in the NHA?  Hell no.

The Utah Underage Binge Drinkers

(Owner: Tobe Hooper)




Bear with me here, the seven of you that have continued to read this far down.  I wasn’t entirely sure who Tobe Hooper was either until I started IMDBing the hell out of this idea.  Suddenly his name was everywhere.  He hasn’t even bothered to try anything but horror movies.  Texas Chainsaw MassacreSalem’s Lot, Poltergeist.  All classic horror flicks.  All directed by Hooper.  He was also behind movies with amazing titles, if not plotlines, like Eaten AliveThe Mangler, and my favorite: Spontaneous Combustion.  His pedigree and dedication to the genre make him an obvious choice for owner.


The San Francisco Shower Scenes

(Owner: Zombie Al Davis)

Bear with me here.  Because Davis only recently kicked the bucket but — and I’m sure that George A. Romero was delighted by this amazingly convenient plot twist — as it turns out. . .he’s not actually dead.  He’s the undead.  That’s right.  Al Davis, long believed to be a corpse that is somehow shambling around in the delectable combination of Pampers, sweatsuits and gold chains, has decided that, since the Raiders are almost look like they’re onto something with Terrelle Pryor, he needs to find another team to run directly into the ground.  Zombie Al Davis had this to say about getting his new team, “Arrrggghhh. . .ungggh. . .annnnnggggghhhh.”

League Commissioner: John Carpenter

When choosing a commish for this league, I wasn’t sure exactly which way to go.  While “The Ghost of Steve Jobs” and “Alfred Hitchcock the 4th” were all high in the running I couldn’t shy away from the master of all horror.  I also looked into the man who wrote the original Friday the 13th but found out, much to my very real, very-un-Hollywood-scripted terror that he spent most of his time writing for All My Children.  Yes, that All My Children.  (*Author’s note: I must admit, in the realm of genuine shock, the stupor level when I saw that was near a 12.9)

Finally I settled on The Man.  The guy who has the single greatest horror movie, and horror movie franchise to his name: Halloween.  Without him, who knows where Jamie Lee Curtis’ career would be.  Activia certainly wouldn’t be aiding and abetting seniors in their deuce droppage with nearly as great an effect, that much is for certain.

Carpenter fits the mold.  He’s a five-tool horror player: writing, directing, producing, editing, and composing his own music.  He has the resume (See: The ThingHalloween II) the staying power, and once cast Ice Cube as a convict that must fight alien zombies to save a mining town in Mars and also cast Rowdy Roddy Piper in They Live (*Author’s note: this cult classic features one of my favorite lines in movie history, “I came here to chew bubblegum and kick ass. . .and I’m all out of bubblegum” and the single greatest fistfight in all of moviedom)  Don’t believe he should be the commish?  Check this out:

I know it’s not directly horror related, but THAT is commissioner worthy.

So the basis for the league is now set.  We have our two divisions:

The Legends

–  Niagara (regional team, in Buffalo Metropolitan area)
–  Minneapolis
–  Pittsburgh
–  Philly

The Bleeders

–  San Francisco
–  Utah
–  Portland
–  Dallas

So with the divisions set, the commissioner in place and the deep-pocketed, occasionally dead owners in place the league is ready to go.

Up next. . .the NHA Draft.

To be continued. . .

Do you feel that, the reader?  That subtle, unclenching of summer’s white-knuckled fist?  That loosening of the hangman’s knot of heat that’s been anaconda-ing around our sweaty throats for months now?  That’s the feel of fall creeping back into our lives.  That’s the feeling of the best month out of the 12 starting last Tuesday and the glorious, delectable weeks to follow.

In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit of an October aficionado.

I think that it’s the Michael Jordan of months, playing on the Dream Team of seasons (*Author’s note: the fall) and that it is seated firmly atop the throne for greatest single month of all time.  Don’t believe me?

Ladies and gentlemen of the Burnpoetry jury, may I present to you Exhibit A in the case of Crunktober V. Everyothermonth.

The October Diet

What exactly are we talking about here?  Hot apple cider.  Pumpkin Spiced everythings.  I’m talking candy on top of candy mixed in with horror-movie-clutching popcorn.  I’m talking so many candied, porking-you-up goodies that even the flesh-eating hordes of zombies from 28 Days Later will say, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, man.  Ease up on the mini-Snickers, will ya?  I’m not trying to get diabetes, here.”

The food in October is the best.  Soups and chilis are starting to make a comeback.  Tailgate food is Rodney King-ing your arteries in the best possible way.  Hot cocoa is exhumed from the shallow grave of August and begins hitting your tastebuds once more.  In short, if your menu for the entire month doesn’t look something like this:

Fancy Restuarant

then I really don’t think we’re probably going to be friends.

Moving on to exhibit B. . .

Football is on a Minimum of 5 nights a Week

And, as the recession-proofed self-sustaining economic juggernaut that is football in America has continued to boom with weeknight games, they’ve morphed from atrocious games to pretty good matchups.  Sure, sometimes you’ll get “stuck” watching The Cal Poly Technical Institute of Santa Barabara at San Bernadino V.S. the Montana Culinary Institute of Bozeman.  But you know you’ll watch just a little bit of it.  It’s at least worth a drive-by watching on your way to the 4th scary movie of the day, isn’t it?

And, even though my wife is probably mentally signing the divorce papers right now, it’s the perfect time to plop down on the couch, pile underneath some blankets and watch and watch and watch and watch.

Before we hit up exhibit C, here’s a quick example of what my DVR/TV Guide looks like in the greatest month ever:


Fall Fashion?  Fall Fashion.

I needed to repeat it to myself to make sure I was actually typing a heading called “fall fashion.”  But, can’t we all be honest with ourselves: sweat pants and hoodies are the best.  Not only do they make us look like we’re in Eminem’s posse for a 2006 music video shoot, they’re also comfortable.  As.  Shit.

Here’s a glimpse at what everyone feels like when they’re rocking a gigantic, comfortable sweatshirt:

And if that doesn’t make you feel like bumping some G-Unit then I don’t know what will.

We may have even tried to pull them out of the closet at some ill-advised point this summer, whether it be for a camping trip or when the weather took a precipitous turn towards not-hotter-than-hell, but it proved to be too soon.  Not anymore.  It’s time to toss on some warm clothes, pimp-walk out to your nearest pile of leaves and dive in.

In honor of the rap-theme in this reason, we’ll call the next piece of evidence Xzibit D. . .

All Horror Movie Everything

I’m an admitted horror movie junkie.  On any give night you can find me thumping my digital forearm, looking for the perfect vein to inject another fix of pre-marital-sexers-getting-iced and boozed teenagers getting hacked to pieces.  I am continually thrilled by sobbing people who can’t ever seem to find their footing in the dark woods and inevitably crash and burn while looking over their heaving shoulders.

October gets me.  October doesn’t judge me for creating things like this:

and October understands that this insane enjoyment of murderous mayhem isn’t an unnatural thing.  It understands that I don’t, in fact, needed padded walls and intense psycho-therapy for 4 hours a day, what I really need is Halloween 4 followed up by Halloween 5 followed up by Halloween 4 again.  October understands that creepy movies are the best movies and that vice-gripped handholding is best when it’s done under blankets as a chill breeze seeps through the windows and darkness falls a little earlier than you’d like it to.  Embrace the creepiness.  Over-indulge in horror and let yourself get a little creeped out.  October would be proud.

Exhibit E coming at you next. . .

The Leaves Change Colors. . .And I Promptly Lose My Shit Over the Beauty of Nature

I’m prone to nature-related sentimentality in all forms.  I enjoy a good full moon over freshly fallen snow.  I appreciate a great view of the summer stars out in the country.  But in no way do these other natural occurrences prepare me for how ludicrously hyped up I get for the leaves to change colors on the trees.  In October, we suddenly go from uniform, boring green leaves, to an explosion of nature-concocted Molotov-cocktail-kissed beauty.

Before you accuse me of being a total sap (*Author’s note: I am) and before you start asking me to pack up my emo-praise for the all-encompassing beauty of nature, just think about it.  Do you like fireworks?  Who doesn’t right?  So what if you could take fireworks, stop them in mid-explosion, stick that mofo into the ground in your yard and then look at them for an entire month.  If that doesn’t sound cool to you, then just move to the Saharan desert you slash-and-burn-the-rainforest, paradise-paving-for-John-Mayer’s-parking-lot jerk.  October doesn’t need you.  You can have August all to yourself.  Go wait there.  We’ll be back in 10 months.

And, finally, there’s Exhibit F. . .


This holiday, which is definitely in the top 3 of American Holidays gives everyone what they want.  Are you a girl that has always wanted to let our her inner floozy?  Pow.  Halloween has got your back.  You can wear Saran wrap for all Halloween cares.  You wanna put fake blood stains on an old work shirt and claim that you’ve finally gotten your revenge on Stan, the IT guy from 3 cubicles over?  Halloween will laugh at that like it’s the funniest joke ever (*Author’s note: not a reason to check into getting a frontal cortex lobotomy.).  You want to just sit back and perv-out on girls wearing Saran wrap or watch as normally sane people attempt to dress up like Snookie-if-she-was-an-undead-zombie?  Halloween is cool with that, too.  End by extension, so is October.

In conclusion: October is crunktober.  I now rest my case.


One of my all-time favorite movies, Dazed and Confused, was released on this date 20 years ago.  It had memorable characters, infinite quotability, a flawless soundtrack and — essentially — no plot to speak of.  The plot part never truly bothered me.  It was a fascinating window into a time period that had happened long before my time, in an era that seemed like it had to have occurred on another planet or plane of existence.

That was part of what made the movie so special.  The brazen drug use.  The social upheaval.  To a guy born in 1986, it all seems to rely a little too heavily on the watcher’s suspension of disbelief.  But that’s the way things were back then, to some extent, and that’s the way they’ll remain forever in my mind, due in large part to Dazed and Confused.

There have been rumors of a potential “spiritual sequel” to Dazed and Confused that has already been written by writer/director Richard Linklater and even a guest appearance by Matthew McConaughey’s wildly popular character, David Wooderson, in a recent music video shoot.

With all this heavy Dazed nostalgia fluttering around these days, and with the 20th anniversary finally landing in our laps, I thought now would be a good time to do a little recap of what has happened to some of our favorite characters from the movie.  And, no, I’m not talking about the actual actors, man of whom have gone on to have phenomenal careers.  And I’m not talking about doing your generic, done-to-death-then-done-again “where are they now” pieces about the group that made this movie.

I’m talking about the characters.  What would have happened to these high schoolers had they grown up?  Let’s find out.

Randall “Pink” Floyd

Pink Floyd

After being suspended for the first half of the first game by the team for conduct unbecoming a starting quarterback, Floyd came back his senior year to lead the Lee High football team to an appearance in the state title game.  However, after getting into a shouting match over the Vietnam war with his knee-high-socked football coach, Floyd was benched and the team promptly lost the game by 35 points.  In spite of this highly volatile breakdown on the sidelines, Floyd is given a check for $2,000 to accept a scholarship at Southern Methodist University where he becomes one of the highest paid benchwarmers in college football history.

After failing his 86th drug test, Floyd was summarily booted from the team.  Capitalizing on his recreational drug use, and his incredibly cool nickname, he scored a job working as a roady for Whitesnake.  Parlaying his success as a roady, and his natural ability as a rebellious, naturally gifted leader, he eventually became the band’s manager.

However after differences arose between the band and Floyd, he was booted as the band’s manager, prompting him to famously tell them, “Here I go again, on my own.  Walking down the only road I’ve ever known.”  The band would later cite Floyd’s wisdom and animalistic charisma to inspiring their greatest hit song as well as their best one-liners with groupies in the late ’80s.

Now 55, and the father of three hipsters, Randall “Pink” Floyd is the co-vice-chairman of Metal Edge Magazine, a small but successful publication that caters to current metal heads in a niche market that he helped to create.  He still has a belt buckle that doubles as a weed pipe tucked away somewhere deep in his closet, hidden underneath purple and white button-ups and white bell bottom pants that he hasn’t been able to let go of.

Fred O’Bannion

After finally graduating in the summer of 1978 Fred O’Bannion retired as the single-day and career ass-paddling record holder of Lee High.  His paddle was bronzed and affixed to the top shelf in the school’s trophy case where it still resides to this day, stashed behind an honorable mention Dance Team plaque and three trophies for the forensics team.

Even though this may seem like a complete impossibility, O’Bannion’s life after he graduated went downhill very swiftly.  Suffering from a debilitating phobia of paint, due to a reverse-prank pulled on him by a group of soon-to-be-freshmen in the summer of ’76, he was unable to find steady work in the town and resorted to boosting cars and selling them to a local chop shop.

In the fall of 1984 Fred O’Bannion was pulled over in a gun-metal grey, stolen Dodge Charger.  The resultant car chase — one that involved 15 officers, a firefight, a pyrotechnic-laden bridge-jump, and the national guard — led to the creation of the game Grand Theft Auto.

O’Bannion was due for parole in 1992, but he opted to stay in prison due to the lack of wet paint and since he had achieved an almost cult-like status among inmates for his ability to pick on the newer inmates.  He was finally released in the summer of 2010, where he quickly traveled out to the west coast and began acting for a living.

He most recently made headlines when he was offered the role of Batman in the Batman V.S. Superman movie.  His appointment as the lead character led to the collapse of civilized life on earth and caused Twitter to collapse in on itself like a dying star of nerdiness.

Mitch Kramer

Burgeoning baseball star Mitch Kramer went on to graduate from Lee High in the Summer of 1980.  He was able to parlay his skills on the baseball diamond into a career playing for the minor league affiliates of the Houston Astros.  Wrapped up in the steroid culture of the mid 1980s, however, Kramer eventually got so juiced up on anabolics that he could no longer itch his own back, let alone go into a windup.  Cut from the Astros’ Double A team in 1987 he found himself dealing with gigantic rage and tiny testicles and looking for work.

He was able to find work as a hairstylists for the rich and powerful set in the suburban Houston area and made his mark throughout the late ’80s and early ’90s, eventually opening his own salon: Kramer’s Kurls.

However, when the late ’90s hit, he lost everything when he became embroiled in a particularly nasty lawsuit against the pop group Hanson, whom he attempted to sue for copyright infringement on “his look.”  He bottomed out financially during this time period and found solace, once again, in the game of baseball.  He moved back to Lee High School where he is currently an economics teacher and the head pitching coach for the varsity team.

Darla Marks

After graduating from Lee High School, Darla Marks went on to college at the University of Texas.  While there she joined up with the Alpha Chi Omega sisters to form one of the most hellacious hazing units that the nation has ever seen.  After being kicked out of school, and charged with hazing in a landmark Supreme Court Case, a disgraced Marks went to work at her father’s family business where she is now the Chief VP of Accounts Receivable.  To deal with her pent-up aggression she joined a roller derby team in 2002 and is now currently the oldest member of The San Antonio Sanguinarians club team where she moonlights under the name “Helen of (Des)Troy”.

Mike Newhouse, Cynthia Dunn, and Tony Olson

Graduating as numbers 1, 2, and 3 in their class, these three trailblazers are often recognized as being the Cro-Magnon man (*Author’s note: and woman) of the hipster evolutionary tree.  After crushing the rest of their drug-addled class in academics they ended up going on to create a small company known as Apple Computers, Inc.  However, they were so busy debating the merits of Friedrich Nietzsche’s poetry that Steve Jobs was able to successfully break into their garage and steal their research and computer technology.

While little is known about these three intrepid intellects, they were last spotted in India in 2003 working on a renewable energy breakthrough that would allegedly make fusion generators seem like AA batteries.

Ron Slater

Ron Slater eventually dropped out of high school midway through his senior year.  His rampant drug use had led him to believe that he could achieve a higher plane of existence by dropping three tabs of acid while humming Aerosmith music “in the language of the gods.”  So prolific was his drug use that he was once spotted getting high with Bob Marley and Mick Jagger on the same day.

During the ’80s Slater’s whereabouts were unknown for much of the time, only surfacing at an occasional Grateful Dead concert.

In 1992 Slater was reported to have opened his eyes fully for the first time since 1974, blinked twice, and then gotten his GED and become a drug education counselor.  He now runs his own wildly unsuccessful rehab clinic called “We Only Smoke Weed and Watch Movies Rehab Facility.”  A pioneer in helping stars that don’t want to help themselves, he’s worked closely with such A-listers as Lindsay Lohan (*Author’s note: and her entire family tree) and counts actor Charlie Sheen among his personal friends.

David Wooderson

After picking up his 3rd “soliciting a minor” ticket in the span of 14 months, Wooderson became one of the most infamous sex offenders in all of the county.  However, after realizing that despite high school girls staying the same age he was turning into an aging pervert, Wooderson turned his life around.

After getting out of prison, he started working out and joined an elite male strip show where he was able to put his pipes, his rougish good looks, and his love of getting freaky to good use.  He continued working in this field throughout the ’80s and early ’90s.  Blessed with a limitless supply of things that took him directly back to his heyday as one of the biggest ladykillers in 1976 — classic rock tunes about doing it and hordes of women prepared to make bad choices — he had found his niche in the world of male stripping.

Wooderson died of a cocaine/orgy overdose in August of 2008.  His funeral was attended by his high school friends, sobbing piles of housewives, and even former President George W. Bush.  Engraved on his tombstone was the solemn oath of a solemn man during a solemn time in our nation.  “Alright, alright, alright.”

RIP, Wooderson.  RIF-ingP


Ever been so completely high on anabolic steroids that you can’t help but pass out into a bowl of Barbarian Clam Chowder? Arnold feels your pain.

Just a little something to brighten your Wednesday.

Just a little something to brighten your Wednesday.


On Monday, TNT debuted their 785th buddy-cop/buddy lawyer/buddy businessmen show of the past 5 years, King and Maxwell.  (*Author’s note: don’t fact-check those statistics, please.)  I DVR’d it in the hopes that it would be one of their better opposites-attract-and-make-for-dynamic-crime-fighting-duos-that-might-bang-each-other-or-betray-each-other-or-both shows.

Also assailing our senses at every turn are the promotions for the God-awful movie The Heat starring Sandra Bullock and Photoshoppedmelissa McCarthy.

The main reason I haven’t had time to check out King and Maxwell, or go on an obnoxious twitter complaint-rampage about how awful The Heat looks, is that I’ve been watching the non-italicized Heat and the man who would be King (*Author’s note: Bron-Bron).  I’ve just been too engrossed with the NBA finals and the ensuing media mayhem that has occurred as everyone rushes to break it all down to stop and catch up on my fix of Buddy-cops and mismatched partners in crime.

We all know the current formula well enough: two very different people are forced to work together by circumstances that are out of their control.  They hilariously struggle to adapt to one another, stylistically, but eventually learn how to utilize their two halves to form one unstoppable whole.  There are enough of these types of shows out there that there should be a buddy-cop network (*Author’s note: if TNT doesn’t already have that idea in the works, frankly, they’re slipping).  People can’t seem to get enough.

This is the dawning of the age of the Buddy-Cop golden era.

If they were to make a spinoff of the NBA finals that turned into a buddy cop/buddy lawyer/buddy-whatever show (*Author’s note: like what they have every 2 weeks debuting on TNT this summer), what would the best shows be?  What terrible photoshop botch-jobs could occur?  Who would star with who?

Let’s find out. . .

Bonner & T-Mac

Bonner & T-Mac

Tracy McGrady, known as “T-Mac” to his friends, used to be one of the greatest lawyers on the planet.  He was an All-Star.  He had his own brand of legal pads and had just received a fat contract at Orlando, Orlando, & Magic law firm back in the mid-2000s before his body betrayed him.  Left washed up, looking for work, and desperate to prove that he’s once again capable of being one of the best lawyers in the game he takes a reckless gamble: riding the pine at a small-time Texas law firm.

Matt Bonner, known as “Matt Bonner” to his friends, just kind of does one thing really well.  He usually finds his way over to the corner of the office and just waits for a wide open case to hit him in the hands so he can launch it towards a judge.  He’s pasty.  And looks like a grown-up, athletic version of Ron Weasley.  But, damn, can he find the corner and wait for the perfect time to shoot.

When these two lawyers, one a slick-talking former star and the other a one-trick pony looking to show that he’s a Swiss Army knife of lawyer-ing, get stuck in the same office you can be sure that they just might find the winning combination.  Will the head of the firm ever let them off the bench?  Will T-Mac finally show that he’s not a choke artist and that he’s got a little law-firming left in the tank?  Can Bonner ever leave his corner?  Watch Bonner & T-Mac on TNT this summer to find out.

Ethel and Flo

Ethel & Flo

(*Author’s note: I know, I know.  This picture is from the Eastern Conference Finals.  Has anyone been able to verify if this lady was forced to sit next to Flo-Rida again during the finals?  It’s definitely in my top-5 of NBA Finals subplots, even in a series with a million  good subplots.  They’re officially my favorite NBA power couple from now on.  Sorry, Delonte and Gloria James, you’ve been dethroned.)

Coming this fall:  Ethel Janicek is the oldest cop on the force.  She’s tired.  Worn down.  And she only has 2 months until she can retire and head to the Caribbean with her two cats and her collection of romance novels.  But when the inevitably-way-too-angry Chief pairs her with the newest cop on the force, Flo-Rida, things start going wrong immediately.

He’s too flashy, demanding that they sit courtside at the Miami Heat games so they can “stake out” a potential drug smuggling ring run by Chris Andersen.  He’s too reckless, wearing a gigantic, gold tiki-head that is actually hollow and holds a revolver.  Plus?  He doesn’t like that Ethel prefers to crochet during stake-outs instead of waiting for the perps while holed up in a strip club.

Will Ethel realize that Flo is offering her a sip from the fountain of youth?  Will Flo ever realize that he’s squandering his potential and follow the respected vet’s lead?  How often will they be forced to sit side-by-side and endure nearly 30-point beatings?  Watch Ethel and Flo to find out.  Fridays on TNT.

The King & Mario

The King and Rio

The King, deemed “The Chosen One” since his early days training at the FBI headquarters in Quantico had everything going for him.  Looks, power, prestige.  He was a rising star.  But then, one fateful summer day he announced at an unsanctioned press conference at FBI headquarters that he was “taking his talents to the Secret Service.”  Shunned by the law enforcement community for this bold move he finds himself placed on the lowest tier of Secret Service duty, guarding the Secretary of Agriculture’s wife’s mother.

His partner?  None other than the bumbling, lazy, Mario.  The two immediately clash, both in style of protection and in personal appearance and The King makes sure that Mario knows who is in charge.  Tongue-lashings abound as The King repeatedly verbally flogs his lesser-known counterpart, establishing decibel dominance like a silverback gorilla in the deep forests of the Congo.

Unbeknownst to our two diametrically opposed heroes, however, there is a large-scale, diabolical terrorist conspiracy centered on kidnapping all the Mother’s of the Wives of the Presidents’ cabinet members.  Confused yet?  Will these two agents figure out who is behind this kidnapping plot?  Will The King shout himself hoarse or rupture a vein in his receding-hairlined-forehead?  Is Mario actually an Italian plumber with a savage hatred for turtles?  Tune in to The King and Mario on Mondays this summer on TNT.


–  In case you haven’t noticed the media blitzkrieg that is White House Down‘s imminent release date, it’s a movie coming out very soon that stars Channing Tatum and Jamie Foxx.  Utilizing the tactics that got me a C- in my college Gen-Ed math class, I have developed a revolutionary equation that breaks down the very essence of this film.






–  By contacting some of my super-secret Hollywood contacts in the movie industry I was able to obtain a rough cut of the first White House Down poster that was created.  It was initially intended to shed a little more light on the subject matter of the movie but was eventually canned, for obvious reasons.


(*Author’s note: All dumb jokes aside?  I will probably still shell out my money and go see it.  How could I resist a movie where everything blows up and Magic Mike and Django end up having to ride or die on the terrorist at the White House?)



When one tatted up dreamboat decides to eject the wrong guy from a baseball game due to too much Pine Tar on his bat, world’s collide, lives crumble, and Ryan Gosling moodily smokes a bunch of cigarettes.

Gosling V. Brett


And if you don’t know what I’m talking about, check out this little gem.