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Friday, April 30, 2010

Expose: 5 Ways to Look Like an A-hole at the Gym! (Sports Review by Anthony Tournis)


What’s happening, America? You are going to get PUMPED by this A-GASM! We all know that physically strong people are just plain better than you (read my previous post about athletes being better than you (Bruce said “This might be the funniest thing I look at all day” (my uncle said it sucked( Bruce is better than my Uncle Dave(Fuck you, Dave!))))). This expose is will not tarnish their sterling reputation, but give you some advice on what to do when you finally go to a gym (if you’re not too busy listening to your 4 Non Blondes album(you call yourself a man? (you might as well chop off you balls and mail them to your unborn kids))). I have spent my fare share of time in a gym, so I am an expert when it comes to not looking like an asshole at the gym. After careful deduction and analysis of exercise routines (science) I have created a list of five things you shouldn’t do so you don’t look like an asshole when you finally go to the gym :

5. Spandex on a guy – I don’t care what you wear as long as it isn’t spandex. I don’t want to see your balls. No one does (BURN). You aren’t going to get girls (or boys( or the Polish)) wearing something like that. If you were a woman it’s alright because you could get some sweet, sweet camel toe (it’s like the cherry on top of going to the gym (other than working out( camel toe and muscles (where do I sign up? (the gym!))))), and that would be fine, but you aren’t a girl. I can see that you are close to being a girl, but you are still kind of a guy. Put on some real pants.

4. Singing out loud – This is classic asshole behavior. We all know Enter Sandman(and love it because it’s a fucking jam( seriously Metallica is the greatest band of all time( LEARN IT!!!!))), but you are not James Hetfield( if you are I would ask for your autograph on my St. Anger tattoo (seriously the man is a god (AND a Christian Science guy( or are they called Christian Scientists? (I don’t want to call them Scientists because they hate science( you didn’t know( it’s called a book(dumbass)))))))). Another problem, you are singing Metallica, but when I get close I can hear you blasting Lovefool by The Cardigans (change the song and your tampon). You are poser singing (might as well stamp “ASSHOLE” on your forehead)! Moral of the story : James Hetfield is fucking awesome!

3. The shower greeting – This is something my Uncle Dave told me. I tried it once( it didn’t go over well). Uncle Dave said that when you are in the shower and another man enters you have to show him that you are unarmed (he said this goes back to medieval times (boy, people were dumb back then)) and you do this by bending over and spreading your cheeks. Uncle Dave made me practice this over and over again. He said it was the only way to get ahead (at least that is what I thought he said). He was really eager to make sure I was unarmed. Really eager. Anyway, if you do this at the gym then you are an asshole (that includes you Uncle Dave (asshole!))

2. Leave – When you are finished with your work out…go home. Stop trying to lure the receptionist into listening to your Rush CD’s in your T-Top Camaro (first she thinks you are gay (second Rush sucks (thirdly (it sounds weird to say thirdly (anyway…thirdly the Camaro is awesome (keep it)))))). You are the fart of the gym: When you are finished…disappear (I am a goddamn poet)

1. Wearing a bandana – Really? Are you serious? You are wearing a bandana while working out? There are two reasons why you are wearing that stupid thing. You are either trying to cover your receding hairline (the receptionist isn’t going to let you fingerbang her in the Denny’s parking lot after you take her to see Letters From Julia (not because of your hair (she knows you have a tiny penis (don’t you wish you never wore spandex to the gym (FTW))))), or you don’t want to get sweat in your eyes (yeah because sweat in your eyes might ruin your mascara (suck it up it’s just sweat (pussy))). One thinks you are cool with a bandana they just think you are an asshole.

There you have it. Five ways to avoid being an asshole in the gym. I would like to mention that I was going to add wearing a fanny pack as one of the top five, but it seems to this reporter that if you are wearing a fanny pack you already KNOW you are an asshole (you are smart).I hope this A-GASM left you dripping from a workout in how not to be an asshole 101.

Planter's Sea Salt & Olive Oil Almonds (food review)


Fuck these nuts, yo.
So, Planter's is upping the stakes and offering some new kinds of nuts. Specifically, Planter's Flavor Grove Sea Salt & Olive Oil Skinless Almonds. And all I have to say is these nuts have no home in my mouth.
If you are calling your nuts "Sea Salt" those motherfuckers better be salty. I will need GALLONS of water or Miller to wash these down. Right now, they verge on the amount of salt that my grandfather used in his 80s. Hint: NOT MUCH SALT.
So fuck you Planters. This is your last chance and you blew it. How do you feel now, nut mongers?
F.
-Eric Roach, Anderson Lawfer


Thursday, April 29, 2010

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Eric & Andy's Lunch With Neil LaBute (Applebee's review)


After close to a week of hearsay, confusion, and quick theater justice, I’m afraid that our very sincere and hopeful apologies to Neil LaBute, Tony Award winning author and director, have gone unanswered.

We offered to talk this out over a McDouble, a delicious sandwich offered at McDonald’s restaurant that has two meat patties and lettuce. And bread, too. But I guess Neil LaBute was too busy eating tacos with Morgan Freeman to bother with us.

So we decided to make up a conversation we had with Neil over dinner at the most neutral place we could think of, the Applebee’s in Naperville.

For your enjoyment, here is what we dreamt our conversation would be like:


Eric & Andy: HI NEIL LABUTE!

Andy: Is that a new shirt, Neil LaBute?

Neil: I got it at Marshalls.

Eric: Nice! I get my shoes and housewares there.

Andy: I've never been. How's the coleslaw here?

Neil: Oil based. I like creamy, so I usually substitute roasted garlic.

Eric: AHAHAHAH!

Andy: AHAHAHAHA!

Eric: This is so nice. Round of Mudslides please, and BIG waters...don't gyp us.

Waiter: You bet!

Andy: So Neil, listen, we are so sorry about what happened with all this stuff.

Eric: It just got so out of control, and everyone just ate it up with a spoon!

Neil: I know...I just felt like I was getting attacked so much.

Andy: I understand man, I mean, I can't speak for Eric, but I got some really bad reviews when I did one of your plays too.

Eric: Who hasn't? And for your stuff to get heckled by like...EVERYONE now. Shoot, even black people are heckling you!

Neil: I thought Death at a Funeral was a pretty good idea.

Andy: No, you didn't.

Eric: Yeah, they paid you a lot for that, right?

Neil:......$2 million.

Andy: Eh, that's ok, I guess.

Eric: It's not Chicago Shakes money, am I right, ladies?

Ladies: You're so RIGHT, Eric!

Andy: So did we come here to talk about your goofy movie career, or something else?

Eric: Andy's in it to win it today, piss and vinegar! Let's get to brass tacks. You forgive us, right?

Neil: You guys are great, I haven't had this much attention in a long time. Sure I forgive you!

Eric & Andy: (big sighs) Oh great!

Eric: Well, listen, how do we move forward? I mean, three smart and attractive guys like us...the world's our oyster!

Andy: Would you like to offer us movie parts?

Neil: I do have this new project that just got greenlit at Paramount Vantage...a real departure for me. You guys are perfect for it.

Eric: Balls!

Neil: It's a civil war drama..."The Wind Is Nigh."

Andy: Oh, I've heard of that.

Eric: No you haven't, dude.

Neil: Anyway, Andy I think you'd be wonderful as Clark, the rebel from southern Missouri, and Eric you'd be Clark's best friend James, but you'd be Yankee.

Eric: Now that's drama, buddy!

Andy: Ok, so what happens?

Eric: And how big is my trailer?

Andy: (whispers to Eric) Nice.

Neil: Um...well, see, Clark and James are caught on opposite sides of the battle, and James is...how do I say this...he's raping one of Clark's slaves.

Eric & Andy:...Say that again.

Andy: Did you say he was raping a slave?

Neil: Right.

Eric: So...slave rape. And this is a...departure for you.


(silence)

Andy: I can't get over how good these ribs are.

Eric: Do you want some of these fried green beans?

Andy: Yes please, do you want some of this fried apple sauce?

Neil: You see, it's basically a metaphor for America.

Eric: You know it, slick! Hey, pass that A1 sauce.

Andy: Hang on, so are you saying that America rapes women?


(silence)

Andy: Here's that A1 sauce

Neil: Well, the slave girls that get raped are stand-ins for all the countries that America -

Eric: More Mudslides!

Andy: Do you guys have, like, a tuna salad thing?

Waiter: No.

Andy: That's cool. Anyway, so what is this about America?

Eric: And slave girls? This sounds pretty good so far. Are there battle scenes?

Neil: Well, maybe some small ones...I mean, the story is set during the war, but it's not so much-


Eric: Explosions, Neil. 3D.

Andy: Titties and dragons.

Eric: Laser guns and space planets. This is the shit that makes bank, Neil LaBute.

Andy: See Neil, far be it from me to tell you what people like, I mean, you are the writer here, but...I've heard people talk a lot about Batman and dolphins and shit, sooooo...

Neil: This is a civil war drama!

Eric: (exaggerated snoring sounds)

Andy: (shouting) CAN WE GET THE CHECK HERE!!!???

Neil: Wait! Wait!

Eric: Hey, everybody! We're going to Rockit for beers! Let's get the EFFF outta here!

Everyone in Applebee's: YAY!

Neil: WAIT! PLEASE! I'LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT!!

Eric: Make a fucking movie with titties and dragons, broheim. You gonna finish that Mudslide?

Andy: Until you do that, Broseph of Arimethea, we aren't gonna be your raping clowns.

Eric: But, seriously, here's our emails. Blow us up when you do that remake of Soul Plane.

Eric & Andy: Peace out, Neil LaBute.

Neil: (weeps and pays check)



We didn't make any of this up, by the way. Look for "Neil LaBute's Space Plane Battle 3D" at the IMAX in 2011! Happy Wednesday, everyone!

Friday, April 23, 2010

Neil LaBute's Commentary on Time Out Chicago's Review of "The Taming of The Shrew" at Chicago Shakespeare Theatre (person review)



Just take a look at this fat fuck.

Look at this homeless Bruce Vilanch.

Then read Caitlin Parrish's honest review of "Shrew" and his throw-away bullshit that frames the play. Then read his comments.

Even if this is the real Neil LaBute (director of Death at a Funeral and The Wicker Man), and I have it on good authority from my friends Elmo and Oscar the Grouch that it is, are we really fucking shocked that this huge bastard is pecking away at his iPhone in the middle of the night in between coke binges and jerking off to Aaron Eckhart's mighty visage?

He smells like leftover teriaki wings from last weeks Bulls game and the Jarvis red line stop. He stopped shaving because razors are afraid of him. Imagine coming across this guy's jungle crotch on ChatRoulette at 2am. By the way, I don't have to. Horrifying.

But...you know what...he is absolutely right. The only reason to do theater is for really big money. I mean, the arts in this country are paying huge right now...so grab that gold ring! Neil LaBute is just saying what's on all of our minds. I'm just gonna go with the newly patented LaBute comment system. Here's a sample exchange of something I would say to a horrible "critic":

Caitlin, Kris, John Beer, Nina Metz, etc.: Eric Roach is a terrible art person! He says stupid ass and his face is a fart! I wouldn't let him near any art endeavors because he ruins all things!

Me: Fuck you! I'm rich! What the fuck are you assholes talking about from the free Wi-Fi at OfficeMax?! I won the game, go eat some goat shit! Now excuse me, I have to go watch Tracy Morgan fuck three thousand-dollar-an-hour hookers while I eat a porterhouse and talk shit about Ethan Hawke behind his back! Critics are dumb-dumbs!

See how I handily won that exchange? It's like I've been Neil LaBute my whole life, sans the cutting on my inner thighs. In other words, Neil LaBute is a modern hero and is out there sticking it to the man. Who happens to be a woman, writing about theater, in Chicago, for no money.

May I say on everyone's behalf, Mr. LaBute, you are an inspiration and a golden god. Thanks for taking the high road.

A+

-Eric Roach, Anderson Lawfer

Thursday, April 22, 2010

The Hypocrites "Cabaret" Benefit Party at Sopo (Benefit fundraiser)


There's nothing better then when theatre companies have benefits on a weeknight. Everybody can usually not make it, and those that do have to leave by 9:30. So I was pleased as punch to attend a benefit for the theatre company "The Hypocrites" in celebration of their newest theatrical monstrosity "Cabaret".
Cabaret was a little known Liza Minelli vehicle from the 70's about a Liza Minelli type girl who works in a Cabaret during the Great War in Berlin. The Nazis have taken control of Germany and surrounding EU nations, but inside, the party is still hot. A young American shows up and gets blown by everybody, and the emcee of the club might not be real, but is most definitely a man. The band plays all the old hits and Liza Minelli dances and dances.
So, of course I was thrilled to attend this theme party at the Holocaust-themed Sopo Bar and Grill, 3418 N Southport Ave.
The place was resplendent in World War 2 memorabilia.
Upon entering I immediately went to the bar and got what I consider the ultimate drink of the time, the Shirley Temple.
Next it was off to the complimentary buffet for quesadillas and hamburgers, aptly named after the internment camp in Hamburg, Germany.
After finishing dinner, my wife and I decided to mingle with the stars of the production. Since my wife is also one of the stars, I made sure that everyone knew that I would be sleeping with a member of this star studded cast.
To look around the room, you would have thought you were in Hollywood. It was a virtual who's who of people who have worked on Columbia College student films and knew Kurt Erhmann. Everyone was in jovial spirits and happy to talk to me.
John Moran was talking to Rob McLean. Nikki Klix was hugging Artistic Director Sean Graney. Matt Hawkins, the director, was canoodling with Jim Beam. Everything was looking great when all of the sudden, they ran out of vegetables for the dip.
Now, I've heard about fat girls getting upset when the food runs out, but nothing could have prepared me for the carnage that unfolded before me (none of these women were fat, but they were pissed). Chairs were thrown through the window, and before I could leave ensemble member Stacy Stoltz tried to punch me. My wife and I safely made it to the streets in time to phone the authorities and the party returned to normal. All in all, for a measly $20 entry fee, this party was a huge success, and I can't wait to hobnob with these amazing artists again.
Also, Greg Hardigan was there, looking better then ever.

Hypocrites Cabaret fundraiser
A+

-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Are You Gonna Go My Way? You had better!!!! (Music Review by Scott OKen)


Today I discuss the genius of Lenny Kravitz. “Are you kidding me” you ask? The answer is a definite and unequivocal NO! I recently put him in the same conversation as Prince and Funkadelic. That my be sacrilege to many funk/soul purists, but I tell you now, that it holds up!
Kravitz is the perfect blend of late 60s Psychedelic rock, 70’s soul, and a tad funky business thrown in. Prince is similar in that he puts a rock sensibility into his funky dance grooves and of course he can whip out a ballad with the best of them. Funkadelic basically takes the concept behind Parliament and brings out the rock and throws in some acid trips to boot! Kravitz walks the line on all these to perfection! Let us look at his catalogue, shall we? WE SHALL!!!

1. Let Love Rule-This one is chock full o’ ditties! Sitting On Top Of The World, Let Love Rule, Blues for Sister Someone, Mr. Cab Driver, and the standout ballads My Precious Love, and Does Anybody Out There Even Care. OKen’s Ultimate Rating (OUR) -9/10
2. Mama Said-Kind of a weird follow up, but gets better upon repeated listens. I believe that if this lp and his next one were reversed, he would have been even bigger! Standout tunes-Fields of Joy, Always on the Run (mistakenly thought of as “Mama said”)It Ain’t Over ‘til It’s Over(This is a CLASSIC 70s-type soul tune!) Let’s not forget Stop Draggin’ Around as we all know LK knows his way around a riff! OUR- 7.5/10
3. Are You Gonna Go My Way- The definitive Classic!!!! This lp is what my friend Beav calls a “100%er” , meaning EVERY SONG is great! I won’t even list the standout tunes here. If you purchase 1 LK album in your life, this is it! The title track! The psychedelic classic Believe! The soulful Heaven Help! Well, I guess I did mention some songs…but they are ALL GREAT! OUR- 150/10!!!!!!!
4. Circus-Technically his least successful lp but there is much rock and soul to be had. Standout tunes are Rock and Roll is Dead (RiffS!!!!!), Circus, and the obviously Zeppelin influenced Beyond the 7th Sky! Shit! I almost forgot the somewhat Southern tinged Magdalene. OUR- 8/10
5. 5-This was his most successful lp, and a fine one it is. This has the mega-hit Fly Away, and some other great tunes, such as, Live, Supersoulfighter, and the funk-a-licious Straight Cold Player. You’re My Flavor is a nice little ditty as well. OUR-8/10
6. Lenny-No this isn’t the soundtrack to the Bob Fosse fim. I consider this his weakest effort. There are some standout jams, though. This has the classic groove Dig In, the super psychedelic , If I Could Fall In Love, and the fun Bank Robber Man. OUR-6/10
7. Baptism- Much better, than the last one. Solid. Standout tunes are, Minister of Rock and Roll, the pop-laden Lady, and the Prince titled Sistamamalover. Points are taken away for Storm featuring Jay-Z. Why tarnish your album by putting a talentless, non-musical hack on it? OUR-7/10
8. It’s Time For A Love Revolution-This one is fucking good! Really fucking good! This is almost on par with Are You Gonna Go My Way…almost! This is chock full-o-tunes of love here! Standouts include, Love Revolution, Bring it On, Will You Marry Me and Back in Vietnam!!!! OUR 9/10

There you have it. Do yourself a favor and grab some Lenny today!!!!

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

HEALTH WATCH: Playing “Bags” will turn you into a Douche! (Guest Reviewer Anthony Tournis)


This A-GASM is for your own damn good(and just like Campbell’s soup…it’s good for you(I would like to welcome Campbell’s soup as my new sponsor(by sponsor I mean thing that I am eating out of a can because I don’t have bowls(poverty)))) . There is an epidemic sweeping across this country(are you scared yet?). It could be effecting you without you even knowing about it(DAMN! That is scary!), it effects men of every age (OH SHIT I’M SCARED!!!), and there is no cure (I just turned my pants into a FUDGE FACTORY!!!). What the hell is it? The epidemic is douchebaggery. Do not take being a douche lightly. There is no turning back when you set out down that road. Sure it starts off easily but you could be a full blown douche before you know it. Early warning signs include socks with sandals(just wear shoes, dumbass), wearing a baseball hat with the tags on it( you just look like an idiot who forgot to take the tags off of his shitty hat), being a Yankee’s fan (self explanatory) and listening to Coldplay( I thought you were a man…my mistake). One of the easiest ways to turn douche is by playing “bags”. First of all, it isn’t called “bags”. The correct term is cornholing (cornholing also means having butt sex(technical term(yep…I’m not making this up))). I guess they started calling it “bags” when guys would say things like “Bro! Me and like five dudes were in the alley last night until 3 a.m. drinking and cornholing. It was awesome! We are going to drink and cornhole all night tonight! Wanna come over? Cool! Bring that big sack of yours!” Cornholing (the game) is simple. You throw bags (which look like nutsacks) at a hole in piece of wood. The game was started by some disgruntled frat boys who were sick of manning the gloryholes in their frat house, and wanted to have some fun. They took the holey boards (not Jesus holy(holey so these frat boys could blow each other and remain anonymous)) and started throwing little nutsacks at them. Viola! Cornholing is invented! During spring and summer is the season for contracting douche via cornholing. It starts off simple: You go to your friends place for a barbeque, he has cornholing all set up in his back yard (y’know just in case the party goes south), you see a couple of “cool” (cool is in quotations because these guys are douches) guys tossing the nutsacks around, you start to think “that doesn’t look too difficult”, you walk over and declare you got next game (you start turning your hat around backwards (early douche signs), and the next thing you know you are talking to a bunch of guys about how awesome Jimmy Buffet is. BAM! You are a douche! You might as well highlight your hair, chew some dip, and tune up your acoustic guitar because you are tainted (taint). This A-GASM is a warning! Once you catch douche it is next to impossible to get rid of it (cornoling is a gateway drug to becoming a douche( might as well fake tan and end it all)) . Do not go down the cornholing road! It might look like fun, but after you walk down that path it’s nothing but Ed Hardy clothes and UFC magazines (no one wants that). Just say no to cornholing!

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

100th POST ANNIVERSARY: A review of Reviews You Can Iews (Critic Megan Powell)


There’s a strange and efficacious charm at work in Eric & Andy's Reviews You Can Iews! , which celebrates its 100th post this month. The cute misnomer “iews,” in fact, limns the essence of the blog: be as entertaining as you can and willfully obtuse as often as possible. Exhaustively (and sometimes exhaustingly) reveling in a gleeful and resolute punch-drunkenness, its topics range from films and obscure music (ever wonder who the eff Moxy is?), games and toys (favorite childhood playthings vs. their contemporary iterations = simple charm), to theatre (back off). Iews’ infrastructure makes the parts work, but not sing. Visually perfunctory, the blog could use more brio, and we wondered why a Microsoft Office 2007 add-on attempts to run when we click on certain posts. Also, its commitment to its craft is somewhat in question. What happened? 49 posts in August 2009 diminished to a lean four just the next month.

But the blog overcomes both the vagaries of Blogger (truly a user interface still stuck in 2005) its own loquaciousness. While some early posts are the equivalent of the unsolicited pontification of that talky woman that works the 10 pm to 6 am shift at the 24-hour (and seemingly last remaining) White Hen Pantry in the basement of the condo building at Armitage, Clark and Lincoln Park West, the introduction of guest reviewers has variously revitalized their efforts. Anthony Tournis’ exploitation of the parenthesis masked as a spring baseball update is prodigiously, er , parenthetical, while the newer music reviews are informative, honing in on a particular rock music group or song (thanks, Rob Biesenbach for the history of “My Sharona”—no really, that gets my rocks off. I mean, between you, me and the wall -- I’d love to review music. Just once. I mean, I don’t know, maybe Eric and Andy would let me guest review a wee bit of music for the blog. Believe me, I shouldn’t quit my day job to do that, but it’s fun to talk about obscure things like how many bottles of Old Grand Dad Keith went through during the recording of Exile on Main Street and to share all the obscure bits of cultural detritus I can mine from this series that I usually have to bore my friends with when they just want to have a beer and some grilled brats and not think anymore, thank you very much. For once it’d be a relief to indulge in some choplogic and trade some heavily mixed metaphors about something besides why John Guare plays do not age well or Darrell Cox’s abs …Um. Anyway.).

Eric & Andy's Reviews You Can Iews! has ultimately and entertainingly blossomed in its infancy. Let’s see if it can cut some teeth in during its toddler phase.

Eric and Andy's Reviews You Can Iews
A-

-Megan Powell (important critic)
*this review does not reflect the opinion of TimeOut Chicago. We know this because TimeOut Chicago thinks we are the fucking JAM.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Star Wars 1 or 4 "A New Hope" or "Regular Star Wars" (Movie/Lifestyle)


Star Wars is a film and merchandise phenomenon that has taken the world by storm. Here, we dig deep into the plot of Star Wars 4: "Regular Star Wars".
This is what all the fuss is about...

Star Wars 1: "Regular Star Wars"
In a galaxy far far away, the entire universe is in a civil war. The words scrolling across the screen have told us that the world is in peril, and that this happened a long time ago, when things were easier. Everyone dressed just like it was 1979 though. Maybe it was so long ago, that it was like, -1979 so they all looked the same. I bet all there pubic hair styles were 1979 style also. Or as they say, -1979.
Princess Leah, the Princess of Algernon, has had enough of this universal civil war, that encompasses the entire universe, and is going to fix it. She is in charge of a group of people who clearly don't want to win a war because they are being led by a woman. Anyway, I'm pretty sure a tractor beam (from Star Trek) brings her into the Death Star.
The Death Star is a big planet looking black thing where everybody lives. Well, not everybody, but at least the Grandma Tarkin and Darth Vader. Darth Vader isn't even the boss though, which seems to me that if you dressed like that, and were just salary like everybody else, you might be spending some time in HR for insubordination. I know he is more important than the regular storm troopers, but it still seems like sort of a slap in the face to his superiors. Maybe he could just not shave instead, or wear a hilarious tie, or screw his boss' wife like the rest of us.
So Grandma Tarkin and his boys are all cruising around in this spaceship called "Death Star" just macking on space hos. I bet there is a sweet bar on the Death Star called the "Death Bar" which is sort of a play on words.
Luckily before the Princess was captured, she sent a hologram message, which is like an email except no one can really see it because she put it in this dude named R2D2 who talks with beeps and horn blasts and whistles and whatever else dumb noises they could find. But everybody can understand him except for us, the people watching the movie, so maybe they should rethink that. Because if there is anybody who should understand what everyone is saying, it should be us, the people watching this thing.
So this guy and his buddy, C-3PO (who doesn't do anything, and is just another message about American's excessiveness, that we would make a robot that doesn't do shit but talk like a gay British guy) wind up in this hillbilly planet at the towing yard with this dude who works there named Luke Skywalker with his mom and dad, Bill and Gladys. So Luke is all cleaning these motherfuckers when the thing turns on and he sees the Princess telling him that she needs help. So it's kinda like a message in a bottle. So hopefully this was the Princess' backup plan because this was a terrible idea, the more I think about it.
Well down the street in the creepy house lives this dude. Now I do appreciate this part of the story, because it is a shout out to "To Kill a Mockingbird".
In "Mockingbird", there was a guy who lived down the street named Boo Radley. Well, the Skywalkers have an old retard too, named Obi Kenobi. If you rearrange the letters in his name you get Ken Obiobi, who is the actor that played Boo Radley. Look it up.
Anyway, Obi is like, the jam ninja or Brazilian street fighter or whatever equivalent you think there is, but instead in this place, they call him a Jedi.
Jedis are like super good at fighting and reading and focusing on shit. So Luke asks this dude Obi to help him get the princess, but Obi is all like, you have to do it on your own, because Jedi blah blah blah.
So then Luke needs a space boat to get the princess from the Death Star so he calls Han Solo, who used to be his really cool stepdad that played in a band and smoked. Han Solo is like...Indiana Jones except he wears a vest and is a pilot. Sounds pretty gay, eh? Well it would sound gay, if I didn't tell you that he cruises around the galaxy looking for trouble with his big hairy friend that doesn't wear pants. Now who's gay?
So they set something up, and they go to the Death Star wear they are not welcome, and are jailed and sent to some garbage room where the walls and ceiling close in on them and they have to go back out. Now they are part of the rebel force, even though I'm not sure what they are rebelling against. Shouldn't the Death Star guys be the rebels?
Hey, I didn't write this fucking garbage.
Anyway, Obi Kenobi comes and has a fight with Darth Vader, (who still isn't the boss) and he dies, not Darth, but Kenobi dies and also leaves a hologram message in the robot guys and C-3PO acts like a dainty little lady, and the Luke has to fight Darth Vader (even though he isn't the boss) but to get to Grandma Tarkin, first you must Jedi or something or other, and then Luke finds out that Darth was his dad and that he also is a Jedi, so they have a ninja fight on top of this....ridiculous cliff in the middle of a ship. Why would you build that? Also, why would you name your ship the Death Star?
Anyway, Luke and fruity Han and Co. get the Princess and they take off to this planet that looks like Mexico and they all eat dragon meat or whatever animals they have on MexTon 6.

I think this is a great movie.
B-
* Writer's note- I have never seen Star Wars because when I was little my mom wouldn't let me watch it and now I'm too old to start watching new things.
-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Lacrosse SUCKS!!! (SPORTS REVIEW BY ANTHONY TOURNIS)


This A-GASM is going to be hard hitting (hit you hard) about America’s lamest sport (calm down Basketball( your day will come)): Lacrosse! Lacrosse is dumb. If you like Lacrosse than you are dumb. Only dumb people like this sport( I don’t even want to call it a sport( I am changing Lacrosse’s definition( Lacrosse – a great way to meet guys))). However, (however is one word) Lacrosse started off cool, but over time we made it dumb(in some countries Lacrosse means retarded). Lacrosse was invented by the Indians (not the Indians in India(those guys invented Christopher Columbus( he was looking for a way to get back to India by going in the opposite direction( Italian Renaissance jagoff!) as a celebration of a ton of different stuff(wars, hunting parties, killing a bunch of white people, and Christmas) . Lacrosse would be played on a field that would stretch for miles and there would be hundreds of people playing at once. That sounds awesome! These games would last for days, and players would beat the shit out of each other with sticks(that is the mark of excellence of any sport(awww look…Basketball is crying(GOOD!))) How cool does that sound? Well, look at lacrosse now(barf): The field is 110 yards, everyone wears pads, games are 60 minutes, and all men’s Lacrosse players are date rapists.
-How can you take a field that spans several miles and reduce it to 110 yards? Sounds like someone doesn’t want to run(winded, walking pussy)! Dumb ass golfers have all the land they want, but asking for a Lacrosse field to span (at least) a mile and a half is asking too much (where are your standards America?)?
-Pads are only used for a ladies time of the month(and Football players(Football players are NOT ladies(show some respect))). The guys who invented the sport beat the hell out of each other and you wear pads? Do you have a pocket in your pads for your purse and your copy of Twilight(Twilight is just stupid(I’m not kidding( it’s pure shit(that isn’t an opinion it’s a fact)))). Show some commitment to your sport! Take a broken arm or a shattered clavicle for the team(it might help you get some girls(ones that you don’t have to date rape (more rape to come(I mean that in a literal way, not an “I’m going to date rape the shit out of someone” way)).
-I have no problem with the time limit.
- All men’s Lacrosse players are date rapists. Seriously, have you ever met these guys(if you have then you were probably date raped(sorry))? First, they look like date rapists. Ed Hardy shirts(you can’t spell “Ed-Hardy-is-for-douche-bag-posers” without Ed Hardy), khaki shorts( so they can carry multiple vials of date rape drugs), pookah shell necklaces (the douche bag version of pearls), and sandals(shoes were invented for a reason(this isn’t Ancient Rome(Gaylord))). If that outfit doesn’t scream date rapist, I don’t know what does (why don’t they just wear a sign saying” I’m going to take you to the Olive Garden, then to the romantic comedy of your choice, followed by a few drinks and “talk time”, and finally I’ll penetrate you when you are drugged out of your mind whilst spread eagle on the hood of my Dodge Neon(SRT 4)”).I think they have to date rape. These guys talk, walk, eat, sleep, breathe, and dream about date rape. These guys sure like their date rape. Wow, I guess I don’t have a huge problem with Lacrosse, I have a huge problem with Lacrosse players (date rapists).
So in conclusion, we messed up Lacrosse to the point where it is so totally lame that Indians would cry if they saw what we did to it. Then they would take back Indialand from the white people. Way to go, white people!