We’re less than two weeks away from the Oscars. It’s movie’s biggest night! Are you pumped? GET PUMPED. FUCKING DO IT.
Next week, we’ll cover who will win for Best Director and Best Picture. But there are tons more categories for the Oscars! Let’s get my predictions on what hasn’t been covered yet!
Continue reading “FBC Oscar Coverage, Part IX: Predicting The Winners (Part 4)”
It’s 11:35pm on a cool Thursday night in April, 2015. Hustle Bankroll, the opening act for the night has just completed his second set, having been asked to fill time. The headliner, nearly three hours late, is Earl Simmons, the now late DMX. The Vogue theater on the north side neighborhood of Broad Ripple is packed full of people. Near the sound booth is a contingent from a sorority, a pack of AKA women dressed in their unmistakable pink and green. By the bar, a group of twenty-something men in tieless dress shirts and jackets. On stage, a man in an oversized Pelle Pelle jacket starts to make an announcement and is stopped by a tall man in a long Ruff Ryders t-shirt. “What?!” He exclaims, pulling the mic away. He’s shocked. Both men rush off stage. Despite reassurance from promoters that he’s coming, DMX is nowhere to be seen. A man two rows from the stage says to his friend, “how much you wanna bet his ass got arrested?”
Continue reading “From Then Til Now, Don’t Ask Me How”
Last week, I gave you my predictions for the supporting categories. Let’s take a look at the leads!
Continue reading “FBC Oscar Coverage, Part VIII: Predicting The Winners (Part 3)”
It’s a clear, cool night in Anaheim. The season is not yet a week old, and trends from the prior year linger like cirrocumulus clouds dotting the sky just west of the ballpark. The Seattle Mariners have lost four of their first five games. They’ll lose this one too, despite beginning the game with a pair of runs off of Angels’ pitcher Ricky Nolasco. It’s April 8th, 2017. The Mariners’ starter is Felix Hernandez, King Felix to the Seattle faithful. He’s in the twilight of a career that included a Cy Young award, a perfect game, and not a single start in the postseason. Hernandez gets Angel hitters Yunel Escobar and Kole Calhoun to ground out to start the bottom half of the first inning. Into the box steps the best player on Earth. His name is Michael Nelson Trout, Mike for short, and he’s the reason many people are watching this game.
Continue reading “Baseball, Art out of Time: The King’s Gambit”
There’s a dry-erase calendar hanging up behind me as I begin to write this. It mostly displays my work schedule and reminders of an occasional virtual D&D session. I bought it a couple years ago because I thought having a physical calendar would give me one less thing to rely on my phone for, as if my eyes being constantly glued to a screen would be a calendar’s fault and not the dark, endless ocean of internet garbage. Right now, however, as I write these very words, there’s something different written at the bottom of the calendar: “Days Left: 26”.
I chuckled to myself this morning at how vague it would look to an onlooker, and I laughed even harder knowing that a realtor would be showing my apartment to potential new tenants this afternoon. I considered planting ominous objects near the calendar to further the mystery. Mostly, I contemplated the large dive knife in a shoebox on my closet shelf, as purchasing a spool of rope would perhaps be a bit extravagant and in poor taste. All sight gags aside, the event the countdown represents is not even close to sinister, but it represents one of the most significant events I’ll ever experience; I’m leaving the only area I’ve ever known my whole life to move across the country.
Continue reading “One Dipped Beef to Go”
I cannot imagine it feels good to be called a liar whom no one should take seriously. I assume it would feel even worse if the person saying that about you is supposed to be an ally you trust. However, I have no idea what if feels like to have a person whom you trust say that about you because they’re using it as a legal defense… but I can’t imagine you’re feeling great, even if you’re the Kraken.
This is exactly what is happening in the defamation lawsuit right now that Dominion Voting Systems, Inc. has brought against Sydney “The Kraken” Powell for $1.3 billion (yes, with a “b”). Dominion is suing other people including former Trump attorney (and Razzie nominee) Rudy Giuliani and the guy who owns MyPillow, whose name I do not care enough to find out so I will just call him Mike Pillow.
I find these lawsuits fascinating, but there are three things that I am absolutely floored by as I’ve been following this story and thinking about how it relates to the state of modern conservative politics. The first is watching a lawyer argue that not only is their client a liar, but that everyone knows their client is a liar and no person who isn’t a fucking idiot should know not to take anything they say as a fact. The second is that Tucker Carlson, arguably the most viewed voice in conservative media, also used the same defense a few years ago. But it’s the third thing that’s maybe the most frightening to me, and should be the most terrifying to all of us:
Legally, this defense works.
Welcome to modern conservative politics.
Continue reading “Tucker Carlson, Sydney Powell and Why Republicans Lie So Fucking Much”
Last week, we looked at the screenplays. Today, let’s get supporting!
Continue reading “FBC OSCAR COVERAGE, PART VII: Predicting the Winners (Part 2)”
It wasn’t supposed to end the way it did. It seemed like an institution, but in the grand scheme of the wrestling industry, it was more of a comet that shone brightly through the night sky of the industry, and flamed out just as spectacularly, imploding into itself like a neutron star. They filled some of the biggest venues in the country. Every week, millions of wrestling obsessed fans watched them. They even wrestled in North Korea.
And then it all ended, at spring break in front of drunken revelors in Daytona Beach of all places.
Continue reading “The Death of WCW Turns 20”
It felt like a gut punch. It felt like so many things that I love had died at once. It felt like losing a sharp, foul mouthed family member. It came in a tweet. Things like this always do in this day and age. Jessica Walter, an integral part of my comedy enjoyment over the past two decades had passed away today at the age of 80.
Walter’s career spanned seven decades. Her TV career predates steaming. It predates cable. It even predates the proliferation of color television. Walter starred in memorable television shows over the decades such as FBI, Mannix, Love American Style, The Love Boat, Trapper John MD, and Murder, She Wrote. She won an Emmy in the 1970’s for her role in the show Amy Prentiss.
She was even the mom on Dinosaurs!
But more importantly, she was Mallory Archer.
And EVEN MORE IMPORTANTLY than that, she was Lucille Bluth.
Continue reading “Jessica Walter 1941-2021”The Avalanche finally reached the 50% mark, actually a game over as they dominated the Wild yesterday afternoon with a 6-0 victory. Yes it is half the season – even if the Stars have only played 26 games and a few teams are at game 34. The Stars are in Dallas which is in Texas which believes COVID is a Democratic conspiracy done in conjunction with China.
Halftime. You sure? Those of who are observant of hockey, there is no halftime in a game. I once took a date to a Blackhawks game and at the end of the first period, she asked me “Is it halftime?” In hindsight it would have been easy to explain to her the game is divided up in thirds, but I just stared at her. Thusly the conversation went as such:
“Is this halftime?”
(silent stare)
“It is, right? Let’s go get snacks.”
“Actually, it’s the end of the first period. There is no halftime in hockey.”
“You’re an asshole.”
Couldn’t blame her. The stare was a little harsh. But the date was not going well anyway. Let’s move along, much as I did after that date.
Fancy Boys Club 