Wednesday, May 23, 2018

You shouldn't have come back here. You're too good for this place.

After tooling around looking at deer and cows, yes, cows, our incredibly overzealous tour guide willed yet another bus up a fairly steep hill into a wooded enclosure. She demanded silence, then gingerly plopped out of the bus and damn near struck a superhero pose upon hitting the ground. Gently, she called out.... [insert embarrassing animal name for a majestic wolf]. Chino? Schlomo? I've got no clue, really.

Anyway, the majestic beast emerges, and quietly comes over to the fence. It paws the ground twice. She nods, and flips him a treat. Awww. Chewing, he looks up at her. And does it again. 

It was amazing. This animal that could probably rip this lady's face off (then mine), played by rules it had no business knowing.

But it still wasn't the most eye-opening thing I saw a wolf do this week.



I spent five hours on a bus filled with thirty eight eleven year-olds last Wednesday, and despite their (relatively) decent behavior [we left behind seventy five of them], it was, by all accounts, straight-up torture. But seeing that wolf do something amazing for thirty seconds? Made it all worthwhile.

And pretty much everything bad that had/would happen was immediately and totally forgiven.

Wolves, from writer/director David Hayter, was also a tortuous experience - but its mama raised it right, clocking in at just over eighty-something minutes. And like the aforementioned field trip, the entire experience was saved by a singular moment. Shockingly, it wasn't a wolf that produced it. Nope.

It was a fox.

Giddyup.

Not that any of this matters, but since I'm pretty much a Jedi in pointless endeavors, here's what you/no one needs to understand about the plot of Wolves, you know, before rushing off to watch it. Cayden is a high school senior, who after freaking out on some a-hole during a football game, gets his first boner and almost kills his girlfriend in the process. Apparently, he either has never had such feelings or desires before AS A HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL PLAYER, or the 1,000th time's the charm, and his sexual arousal turns him into something resembling a werewolf. And not the groovy, Michael J. Fox-kind, either. Like, the gross kind, that you'd expect to f--k your chickens before actually eating them.

Tuesday, May 22, 2018

I can't believe we survived that.

Look, it was a bad game. Let's be honest with ourselves.

The graphics weren't even that good (for the era), and any time a neon sign is the reason you're dead, well, f--k that noise. Same goes for that f--king tank they'd trot out when you'd just about wrapped up a level. That was some ending up naked and afraid when you'd just destroyed Cleveland.

But, and there's always a but, if you were ever lucky enough to eat the guy on the toilet, or even better, punch a commuter train over to your friend, only to have him or her immediately punch it back to you - well, that shit's basically heaven, right there, you know?

Because sometimes, it really is the little things in life. Especially when those little things turn into big things...

...and f--king eat and destroy everything.


Discerning adult, lover of time, you really have no business being on this website at this hour, just like motherf--king Rampage has absolutely no business being so f--king good. Read it again, I'll wait.

Based off of the Midway arcade game from the mid-eighties, Brad Peyton's latest action flick is not only a helluva ride, it's also further proof that The Rock can make just about anything must-see cinema.

Some nefarious coroporation is running some sketchy ass operation in space, when things go decidedly tits up. The result? Not everything burns up upon reentry and toxic debris cascades all over the f--king planet. While bad shit raining down from the heavens is a general cause for concern, multiply that by eleven when it tuns out that the aforementioned sketchines is actually some gene-tinkering tomfoolery.  Seems this bad corporation has been mutating (space?) animals for, you guessed it, in order to weaponize beasts.


Friday, May 18, 2018

The rabbit is correct.

Ten years is a long time to do anything. Especially considering many people have an attention span measured in syllabl-...and I've lost you.

Even more impressive than a decade of doing anything people still care about - is doing it well. Maybe the competition, after defecating on it and setting it ablaze, has set the bar impossibly low, but the winning formula, rote as it may be, is damn near undefeated.

Hell, even if you only like half of the films in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and would be all for the rest of them quietly fading away from existence, you still need all your damn fingers to count the good ones. 

Half. Half. 

Half is a lot to love. And it's even more to lose.


I liked more than half of Avengers: Infinity War, shit, I pretty much enjoyed the whole damn thing. As the (current) culmination of a decade-long endeavor, Marvel's latest cash-cow is everything you could hope for in a two-and-a-half hour who's-who of the MCU.

Now that we've established a few dozen characters, a handful of allegiances and locales, it's time to unleash the Kraken. But instead of a tentacled anus monster, we're talking Thanos - a huge purple dude with a nutsac chin. Thanos has been looming large in the background for awhile, but apparently, the time has come. According to Gamora's step-dad...

...the world must end. So that it can survive.

Wait, what?

Actually, I'm a big fan of Agent Smith's Thanos' plan, as it calls for an indiscriminate swiping left of the entire universe. Turns out, half of you bitches gotsta go, or else eventually, we're all gonna die. So...yay, Angry Grimace, right?

Not exactly, as Tony Stark and his crew ain't exactly too keen on this whole kill half the population agenda, even if the last time we saw the whole gang...they were splitting into even sides and fighting to the f--king death. Well, fine no one actually died in Civil War... unless you count Rhody's ability to play hopscotch as an actually fatality. Which I do.

Thursday, May 10, 2018

Did I tell you about my birthday?

The Magnificent. 
Pounds. 
Years (both Itch and In Tibet)
Days in Entebbe.

The number seven has been celebrated in many things cinematic, and as of this evening, Two Dollar Cinema joins the party. Happy birthday to... we?

And while I haven't seen a single film mentioned in the above list, in the last three hundred and sixty five days, I did to see (and 'review') seventy six films. Yes, that's likely an all-time low for a calendar year, but remember, it's not quantity that matters....it's quality.

Oooh...about that.

Monday, May 7, 2018

Why is sex even bad?

My prom night was the worst. Full-on golden sombrero.

1) I took my best friend's girlfriend. K looking.
2) I was named prom king, but didn't even dance with the queen, who was essentially the girl of my dreams/the girl I was no longer...dating? [super vague was how we rolled] Swinging on high heat.
3) I bailed on the all the post-prom parties, and instead went to the f--king movies like an asshole. I won't even make it worse and tell you what I saw. Down looking on a knee-buckling curve.
4) The fact that I'm willing to admit any of this, let alone compare it to my wife's own prom story (more on that never)? Strike three. Bases loaded. Get the f--k outta here.


Typically, teen sex romps (if that's a thing) are about a couple of horny guys trying to get laid (see: Porky's, American Pie, Revenge of the Nerds, etc.). Blockers, from director Kay Cannon, punches those traditions square in the dick, as it not only focuses on three young ladies trying to get lucky, but also the parents' quest to intervene. Sometimes sweet and routinely funny, this little R-rated comedy had me and my wife rolling.

But it also had me thinking. A lot.
And crying.

A little.

Julie, Kayla and Sam have been friends for, like, forever. As senior prom approaches (and college looms), it's clear that this night may be their final big blowout together. And what better way to never forget one another...by all losing their virginity on the same night. Um, okay. Sign me up. Er, the 1997 version of me, that is.

Anyway, Julie (the blonde) has a super-sweet boyfriend and a Walgreen's candle, meaning getting boned should be easy-peasy, lemon-booty squeezy. Kayla (the jock) just kind of picked some rando named Connor, and he seems down for...well, for just about anything. Book this one, too. Just do it pencil, as Connor's a bit into herbs and spices, so who knows what condition he'll be in, come Hammer Time. But young Sam? Well, she kind of reluctantly entered the pact to begin with, and her date Chad? Well, he ain't exactly wetting her whistle, despite rocking such a killer fedora. Sam looks to be a long shot on the deal-sealing side of things.

Monday, April 30, 2018

That was nuts what happened in there.

Give me a second - carry the three - got it. I ran the numbers and while the math is good, the result is not. My wife and I have one couple we regularly spend time with. We've flirted (wrong word) with a few others, but they've all been, more or less, one-and-dones. A dinner. Maybe some...bowling (once)? Sure. But never the feeling of we should do that again.

And ever since our kids were born, outside of a wedding or two - any get together we've ever mustered, has always had children present. Ours and theirs. The kids have fun, which is great. The adults...not as/so much.

But imagine the fun we could have if they weren't around?

That's not what you think it is.
Certainly nothing like what's featured in 2015's The Overnight, a relentlessly shocking and awkward (shockward?) comedy from Patrick Brice (uh, the dude responsible for Creep [review]). Running a scant 70+ minutes, this cringe-fest about making new friends as a grownup might make you reconsider your next evening among adults, in addition to your own policy on posing for a portrait.

Alex and Emily, with their young son RJ, have recently relocated to sunny Los Angeles. While Emily settles into her new office job, Alex is doing the stay-at-home dad thing for awhile. It's a sweet gig, sure, but not when you (and your son) don't know anybody in your new neighborhood.

Begrudgingly, Alex takes the kid to a birthday party, where instantly they meet a fairly awesome (though marginally peculiar) dude named Kurt, who has a son around the same age as RJ. Thanks to some gummy worms, the boys hit it off quickly. The adults? Same. Kurt insists that Alex and Emily come over for dinner that night. Which, of course, sounds nice.

From there, well it's anyone's guess, as what starts out as dinner and conversation ends up with bong hits, full-frontal dong shots, peephole-laden all-night massage parlors and incredibly intimate portaits (to say the least). And that ain't even the half of it. While The Overnight isn't exactly laugh-out-loud funny, it's so incredibly bizarre and charming my wife (yes, she stayed up) and I were enthralled from start to finish.

Wednesday, April 25, 2018

Your father will always protect you.

I have been a father for almost nine years.

And outside of the rad homemade cards from the kids (and the fact that I'm, quite literally, a motherf--ker), the best part about being a dad is I'm now qualified to give advice at anytime to new fathers. Even if they didn't ask for it. And even if I don't know what I'm talking about. For example...

Always park closest to 'cart return', even if it's a mile away from the entrance. You'll thank me on the way home.

Mom is outworking you - always. You might think because the kids are sleeping, she might actually let her guard down. She doesn't. She's just worrying less. 

But most importantly, when buying your kids toys, their enjoyment is secondary. I don't care how happy they were in the store when they saw it. Ask yourself, how will this feel to step on? How long will it take to put away? And if that toy emits any sounds...are they something that could potentially drive you insane?


Oh, and one last bit of advice?Ditch your kids and go see A Quiet Place in a crowded theater. Just don't bring my mom with you.

Set in a near-future where our planet has been ravaged by deadly monsters, the story centers around the everyday struggles of a singular family comprised of mom, dad and three kids. When the film opens, even a quick trip to (what's left of) town, is a life-and-death chess game of us. versus them. Apparently noise triggers these vicious creatures, and one false step, er, sound, will result in the grisly death of whoever made it. Simple? Sure. But effective, Hell yes.

This f--ker could easily be the most tense film I have ever seen in my entire movie-going life. Few films have sucked the air out of me as quickly John Krasinki's latest, but absolutely zero have ever sustained such breathlessness throughout their entire duration. If not for the emotional break that comes from wanting to straight-up murder the person sitting to my right (oddly enough, the woman who gave me life), I might have actually died during this one. Meaning? I absolutely f--king loved it.

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Look, no one cares about you now.

Ah, the things we do for the people we care about.

Some people will skulk around a deserted wasteland for days, where the only happy face they'll come across is pasted on their own narrow ass.

Others will get knocked up, gear up, and formed an armed militia of mothers-to-be. Cause, you know, there's nothing expecting mothers love more than brandishing assault rifles.

And others still, in order to maintain the existence of their own family, will do nothing but take and destroy life. Maybe it's the hunting of an animal to eat, or the murder of a fat man bartering gas for ass, you know, those old cliches. And maybe, if you in a real pinch, maybe you'll cut the arm and leg off a young woman...and cook that shit for dinner. I mean, the kids gotta eat...

But me? Well, I ain't really about killing anything...except time. So, if they ask me, (eventually) I'll watch a terrible movie for someone that means a lot to me. Well..

...used to mean a lot to me...

Fine, I still have nothing but love for Margaret over at the [at times] wondrously perverted cinematic corner, but after guilting/violently coercing me into The Bad Batch, the exact amount may be in question. I mean, sweet Jesus, this one makes Butter [review] look like Citizen Kane [review], for f--k's sake.

Apparently, a lot of people really dig/dug A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night (no disrespect, but I fell asleep every time I gave it a try). The film's director, Ana Lily Amirpour parlayed that success into her next feature, 2016's The Bad Batch. Obviously I can't say whether this one is a step back or a step forward, but if this is progress...holy f--k. 

Set in a seemingly not-too-distant future, the film opens with some chick named Arlen getting branded as bad, and then unceremoniously dumped into a dry and dusty wasteland somewhere near Texas. Almost immediately, she's knocked out and wakes up to find that some gnarly bitch is cutting her arm and leg off. You know, because she's hungry. 

Hey, Blogger Guy, why don't they just kill her and eat her other arm and leg, too (and ass, frankly)? Uh, because if you keep her alive, she'll grow new limbs like a f--king gecko, you dim-witted asshole. Stop trying to use logic, facts, reason, or any other nerdy f--king tidbit of that thing you call reality. Reality doesn't always look cool, bruh. The Bad Batch, does. Oh, um, also...if they killed her and ate her? We'd have no one to watch limp around the desert FOR TWO F--KING HOURS.