Untertainment Weakly (9-21-12)

By Jake

James Brolin will play Jeff Winger’s dad on “Community.”

James Gunn will direct Marvel’s “Guardians of the Galaxy.”

Sony is making a “Manimal” movie.  

Rob Reiner and Jamie Lee Curtis will play Zooey Deschanel’s parents on “The New Girl.”

Bill Maher will guest on “The Good Wife.”

Bravo will be making a “Heathers” TV series.

Tina Fey will lend her voice to an upcoming episode of “The Simpsons.”

Tricia Helfer will guest star on an episode of “Community.”




Matthew Perry Watch

“Go On” seems to be a big hit!  Way to go Matty!

Movies Out This Weekend
Dredd 3D - Fuck Dredd and fuck you if you see this piece of shit movie.

The House at the End of the Street - J. Law returns with this film.  Her mom is played by Elizabeth Shue.  On paper this sounds like the best movie ever made.  In reality, it is probably awful.  Use your money to buy some acid.

DO NOT SEE ANY MOVIES EVER.

Movies I Watched in the Last Month
Singin’ in the Rain 8/10 A great movie, but certain musical numbers go on too long and become boring to me.  I just want to learn about the transition from silent films to talkies.
Robocop 10/10 Great movie.  One of my favorites.
Never Been Kissed 3/10 Real piece of shit.
MacGruber 8/10 Loved it.
The Brothers Solomon 7.5/10 Very funny and weird.
Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story 8/10 A very underrated comedy co-written by Judd Apatow.
We Jam Econo: The Story of the Minutemen 8/10 Good documentary about a great band.
The Rock-a-fire Explosion 7/10 Documentary about the Showbiz Pizza band.
Beasts of the Southern Wild 9/10 Really good movie.
Poptopolis 7/10 A pretty cool documentary about a really shitty film maker.  
Girls Just Want to Have Fun 2/10 Shitty.

Song of the Week

Debate: Motorcycles

By Jake and Glenn

Motorcyles are the most popular mode of transportation for closeted homosexuals and conservative dads.  What makes them so popular and conversely so dangerous?  Just ask Evel Kinevel, he died driving his motorcycle into building 7 of the World Trade Center.  This week Jake and Glenn, famously pictured below, debate motorcycles while riding motorcycles on famous Route 66 highway in United States of America.


Jake:  If a car is a horseless buggy, then a motorcycle is a horseless horse.  Even the concept of a motorcycle is a ludicrous.  A bicycle isn’t good enough for a motorcyclist, a car isn’t good enough, an airplane, hang glider and parachute/fan backpack combo aren’t good enough.  The only thing good enough for a motorcyclist is the “steel horse,” as Jon Bon Jovi referred to it.  Bikers are elitist scum.  They are like your friend who only listens to political punk and doesn’t own a TV, except they are racists and homophobic.  Cyclists are world class trash and must be stopped at any cost.  “Start seeing motorcycles”?  No, start ignoring them.


Glenn: I have not seen such levels of vitriol released against an innocent group of people since the recent protests by some Muslims against the United States of America.  Clearly my esteemed opponent, for all the time he spent playing Excite Bike for NES in the late 80s has never spent time on a real motorcycle.  I have and I am here to say they are AWESOME.  When I got my first motorcycle at age 16, everyone told me it was dangerous but what they didn’t tell me was how fun it would be.  I used to pull into my parking spot in the lot in front of my high school with the wind blowing through my hair and my Stone Cold Steve Austin decal on the back of my bike.  Girls couldn’t get enough of it then and the exact same girls (now women) can’t get enough of it now.  

Jake: Motorcycles maybe a good way to get girls, but it’s not the type of girls you can bring home to mother.  Being the “momma’s boy” that I am, this makes this point moot.  The kind of women that I want to attract have glasses, tattoos and all of Dashboard Confessional’s albums on vinyl.  Motorcycles are fine within the virtual space of video games-- as are aliens, bartering and running over pedestrians.  Once you bring any of those things into reality, then the problems start multiplying like a wet t-shirt contest for gremlins.  How many people do you know that have been seriously injured or killed in motorcycle accidents?  For me it’s 37.  Two of my brothers can no longer walk because they were racing motorcycles across the desert and collided with cacti.  My wife’s grandmother died in a motorcycle accident just last week.  Motorcycles aren’t safe and they certainly aren’t kosher.


Glenn:  Would motorcycles be safer if, like literal “hogs,” their throats were slit and trachea/esophagus ripped out by blessed Jews?  Of course!  But cars are also dangerous and are the #1 killer of people aged 3-55.  That is a statistic I learned in my mandatory drivers education class the state of Florida is forcing me to take after committing a moving violation in a car.  I never would have been caught by the police if I made that same violation in a motorcycle.  They’re fucking fast and you can drive down alleys to escape police cars, angry tea party protestors or whoever might be chasing you in a normal sized automobile.  The most famous movie of my generation, Easy Rider, features motorcycles heavily.  I admit this probably has something to do with my love of hogs (and Steppenwolf).  By the same token though doesn’t your affinity for Cars 2 bias you in favor of the four wheeled killer?

Jake:  My love for “Cars 2,” and to a lesser extent “Cars,” has nothing to do with my burning hatred for motorcycles.  My favorite movie of all time, “Wild Hogs,” is about motorcycles.  It is really funny!  Nothing is funnier or more vile than a motorcycle.  My favorite professional wrestlers rode motorcycles to the ring (The Road Warriors managed by Paul Ellering and Rocco and the Undertaker).  My two most hated wrestlers drove a car to the ring (Greg Valentine and The Honky Tonk Man).  Motorcycles are more dangerous than cars because they lack protection.  Furthermore, you cannot sleep inside of a motorcycle if you have a run of bad luck.  Imagine that you lost your house and you just found out that you are suffering from diabetes.  Where are you going to sleep?  What are you going to do to keep your insulin levels sustained?  These are the questions that must be answered when one owns a motorcycle.  Thank you.


Glenn:  If you have diabetes you should not be on a motorcycle and further should probably not be outside of your home.  It is simply too dangerous.  No one who owns a motorcycle has ever become homeless and forced to sleep in his/her car.  Maybe that’s because these bikes are a vanity purchase for aging emo dads or because owning one shows that you are very cautious with your money and only make wise investments.  Whatever the reason you ride motorcycles, you are awesome for doing it.  When I left my first wife and children, I got on my hog, revved the engine and drove away knowing I would never be trapped again.  Bikes are the only way men can truly be free.  It’s either ride a bike or kill your whole family and put Bibles next to their bodies.  Your choice.

Hammish's Last Week on Earth Part II

By Gary

Read Part I


The Hammish chunks rained down onto the few that were tricked into attending this funeral. Rubbery chunks of flesh smacked his distant cousins, former employers, and his Ex and her lover on the top of the head like someone whipping New York Strips at football helmets.

"Fuck You. Fuck you, clown!" A phrase that repeated over and over in Hammish's understimulated head, as the cream of the pie dripped down his face like the aftermath of a million grand money shots. Instead of saying what he was thinking all that came out was a grunt. With that grunt and a shake of the head he reached out and slammed the door on the clown. The clown all the while gripping the colorful balloons and tilting his head as the door to maintain an uncmofrtable eye-contact with Hammish as the door closed.

Hammish was not angry. Hammish was not happy either. Hammish just simply shuffled back to his 'I dont give a shit' chair in hopes that this would be the last time he ever sat down. Hammish tilted his back and blopped his feet up on the foot rest. As the cream filling dripped on to the floor with a surprisingly arousing splat noise, Hammish could not help but lick his lips and taste it. Shit, It tasted awful...what the fuck was that made of expired baby food and tree bark? Oh well, Hammish's mind was far too old and too far tired to play "What the Fuck Did I Just Eat' any further. He drifted into a deep sleep and as he did, he couldn't help but laugh, a little, hoping that he or the world would die.
"wouldn't it be funny..." thought Hammish. "If I died and they find me just sitting on this chair, dead for days, and covered in a pie to the face?" He quickly scooped that thought from his mind and whipped it across the room. For the record, it would have indeed been funny. Damn, funny. But instead he took out his hankerchief and lazily whipped his face about three-quarters clean. He'd get the rest off later, as it dried, picking it off would give him something to do and add a handful sprinkles to vanilla laced life.

As he settled into his fat old man groove of his recliner, he felt a sense of depression and apathy sweep over him, that almost made him leap from his sadness and sweat soaked throne. However, the warm comforting arms of melancoly wrapped around him, and whispered sweet lazies in his ear, an embrace that was just to safe and familar to have any desire to ever escape from. Fuck this world. "Goodbye" he said to himself, but really wanted to say to the world. Hoping this would be the last time he ever uttered his favorite word.

Just as his eyes closed. A knock at the door ripped him from the grasp of his wishful thinking that a voice calling him to the light would be the next thing he be aware of.

Who the hell could it be now? Fuck em'. "Can't an old piece of shit like me just die in piece?" thought Hammish. He ignored the pounding like a long abused wife. He squeezed his eyes shit like he was trying to make his eyebrows touch his cheekbones. The knocking either became louder and harder or the consistency of it was so relentless that it became harder to ignore. Suddenly an explosion rocked the entire house. and the door fell open. Pink smoke that smelled of cat piss and ether filled his living room.

Hammish shot up from his chair and is necked cracked as he swung his face towards the front door. There stood the clown. The fucking clown. Clutching balloons, laughing, and shaking his head NO. He kicked off his oversized shoes with a flick of each ankle and blobbed down onto the couch next to Hammish all in one fluid motion. He handed Hammish a handwritten note that read 'Life's a joke. Lets tell it to the world. "Fuck....this clown isn't going anywhere." Hammish sighed as he resided back to his chair the door wide open for the funnyman to come right in.