Funny Blog Friday (FBF) is a Blog Hop consisting of multiple funny bloggers, apparently including JC, doing raffles and connecting with others to make some comedy. JC has his own contest, where if you do something today, literally anything, you get to pat yourself on the back after doing it. JC did this so people that go to his school take part in it already, even though they may have never read this blog. More info, and a list of bloggers, can be seen here. We now return to JC’s regular sarcastic, scathing, comedic blog post.
Yesterday, I had the opportunity to see Cabaret, a musical that encompasses the changes of Berlin before and during Hitler’s rise to power through the eyes of an American writer, an English singer, and a German room renter. Now, this was not the high budget, high style, “Actor’s with really amazing German accents” version of Cabaret, but the super amazing, average style, “Actor’s that will beat the shit out of JC if they think JC is insulting their attempts at German accents” high school Cabaret.
It was alright, I’ll tell you that. Apparently one of the techies were spreading the message of “If you saw the original Broadway version, then you are in for a disappointment,” so I knew that I was in for a treat. I’ll do my best to explain what a school where all the arms are broken from the narcissistic masturbation going on (an Art School) can do the Cabaret. Spoilers ahead of the musical if you haven’t seen it. These spoilers aren’t that well described though, so read on.
I should say this now: As you would expect, the play had a few scenes cut because even though the school board let this play through, some strings had to be attached. Lack of scenes caused me to be confused half the time. I never thought that cutting a song about the female breasts could be cut out and it had some impact to the story.
The show is all about how the American writer adapts to Germany with the help of a guy who will end up as a Nazi. He sings great though, I’ll give Nazi guy that. So the writer goes to this hotel where the neighbor is a prostitute, the renter is old, and the owner’s love interest is a Jewish shopkeeper selling fruit, so we already know where the ending of this story is gonna be for that guy (vitamin overdose). He finds an English singer at the local Cabaret, and falls in love with her. The shopkeeper and renter get engaged, and at the engagement party, Nazi guy, and all the other closeted Nazis, sings a song that turns out to be metaphorical for the Nazi cause. Talk about buzzkill. Then there’s a fight between everyone who is a couple, the marriage gets cut off, and the writer goes back to America alone. At least the writer is the smartest one of the bunch to get the fuck out of there.
That’s the full play summarized. You know how long the play was? Two and a half hours. I described it in a single paragraph. Talk about nothing happening.
So, other the flaw of being describable, the show had some good moments. Uh, the Cabaret Dancers were the best part of the show, easily. They were good enough to the point where, and I never thought I would say this, I take back every bad thing I’ve ever said about dancers. Oh, half of them were drama majors? Never mind. Fuck you, dancers. Drama majors: Fuck yeah! Tony awards! Oscar awards when the video of the play gets to theatrical release! Other assorted awards no one has ever heard of that you only care about! What else was there? A song about a three-way, the good kind, called Two Ladies, and I am still trying to figure out if it’s a great song, or the greatest song ever made. That’s about it for positives. Good play overall.
You know, if the drama department keeps on making controversial musicals with women dancing, I’d be completely fine with it. Let’s do Rent next, and let’s keep the pole dancing scenes in the damn thing, school board. I’m disappointed in the board’s lack of aid for teenage boys trying to see some real action. I don’t care if you argue that I could look five seats to the left and see a chick I know and guy making out during the play, but I want to not be obvious when being a pervert. I want some art with my booty-short wearing ladies.
More to come.
Here’s a list of other bloggers involved in Funny Blog Friday. Visit them. Or don’t. I’m doing this for my own self-gain, and you already read this, so I don’t care what you do now.
Victoria of Angst Anarchy
Alanna of White Girls Be Like…
Jamie of Fits of Wit
H.E. Ellis of H.E. Ellis
Jessie of Jessie Reyna
Alice of Alice at Wonderland
Ben of Ben’s Bitter Blog
Jenn of Properly Ridiculous
Lisa of Buddhaful Britt
JC of JC’S Blog
Sarah of No Cry Babies
Elke of The Pretty Platform
Jack of The Things I see Up Here
Chicks A & E of Too Funny Chicks
Charly of Crazy Life
Kevin of Trailer Trash Deluxe
Karilin of That Nameless Color
Folks, I have very mixed feelings about school dances. Most of those feelings come from a long, three year history of middle school dances, all of which were absolutely horrible. So when I finally bought a ticket for homecoming last Friday, I was quite skeptical, especially due to the fact that I had no date. Funny story about that: I had two opportunities to ask some ladies out, however, A) the two perfectly average-looking female friends I could have easily asked to homecoming went together for “economical reasons,” and B) the one chick who
is was, and I quote, “In love with JC,” wasn’t willing to pay her half of the $25 couple’s ticket. All the girls that want me are cheap, and all the girls I attempt to date are closeted lesbians. I don’t know why I do this, I guess I’m just really into closeted lesbians. (Special shout out to that one girl I met in middle school!)
So, on the night of homecoming, I arrived at my school that attempts to make homecoming special and equal by making homecoming court a process of chance and not the democracy it needs to be (an art school, to be clear) five minutes after the dance began. I met up with my “bro,” I guess, who was waiting on his date, who left her house when the dance actually began. We started joking around about her texts that were very vague, including “I’m close,” which was sent twenty minutes before we saw her, and “At the light,” (somehow implied that she was at the light to the school, even though the light she was actually at was probably a mile away) which was sent ten minutes before we saw her. As we waited, I saw the aforementioned female couple, and had a hearty chat about the fact that I was wearing sunglasses at night. Let’s all get something clear here: Golden aviators reduce nighttime glare, and I shouldn’t be questioned about wearing pussy magnets on the face at any time of the day.
Fun fact about the aviators: The week after I bought them, the girl who
is was “In love” with me finally decided to say something about it. After learning about my new aviator powers, I had the confidence to tell her “No.” I regret nothing.
My bro’s date finally arrives thirty five minutes into the dance. Her family takes pictures of them, with me third wheeling like a boss in half of the pictures. I swear, her family was taking pictures of other groups and they’re going to edit me fifth- or seventh-wheeling in them like a champion. I entered and got right to the party. The party included me not dancing and helping poor relationships, mostly by not getting involved. I am excluding the one time I did get involved, but we’ll get to that later.
I decided to get myself a drink: Coke, the classiest of broads. Eventually, I had enough caffeine to where I got the high and started to have whatever soda in my hand as a makeshift date. I even slow-danced with her during whatever bullshit love song was on. I had three dates that night, and they were all dumped. I regret dumping them, but, hey, they were only one-time things anyway.
While I was getting to first base (or third, depending on the angle of the can) with my dates, my bro and his date were having some problems: He was beginning to regret his decision (because he’s a little bitch who complains about his own relationship), she thought the relationship was going too fast (I didn’t believe her, I’ve seen people make out two seconds into their relationship. Thanks, Hollywood!), and they both went off to dance with other people (I don’t blame either of them for doing that). How did I deal with these problems, you may ask? Well, I told my bro to wear my aviators, slap his date in the face, and walk away if he was regretting his decision. Apparently that made him realize that he was okay where he was, and went to dance with her. When she thought it was going to fast, I told her to tell the truth, which was a challenge for her, so I told him, then she told someone else to tell him, he explained wasn’t planning anything (that’s called BULLSHIT, kids at home!), and they were fine and dandy. They did dance at the end of the night. I, uh, actually didn’t do anything to help that, but I’ll take the credit. They broke up over the weekend, so, as usual, I fucking called it!
That’s about it. I met some people, I hung out with friends, and I didn’t really get anywhere farther in my own romantic advances even though I totally repaired one or two things on my own. Jesus, I need to get my fucking act together and stop metaphorically kissing other people’s asses.
More to come.
Folks, I’ve already coined the term “Art School Loser,” which is basically “An average kid at an art school that would be popular at any regular school.” However, I feel a crucial part of the summary was never mentioned, and I feel as a supplier of fact and truth, I should amend the fault: “An average kid at an art school who can never win that would be popular and win at any regular school.”
Now, I’ve already complained about this issue, so I am well aware this sounds like “Oh, I’m at this art school so notice me derpy depetty derp always losing durrr derp tittaly whining and other shit blaa derp.” However, I have a scathing self-depreciating humor that everyone loves. So we’re good.
So yeah, there are a shitload of ways that I have failed since whenever I last made fun of my failures. Let’s start off with the last day of the 2013-2014 school year.
The Scene: JC has his arm around a somewhat attractive female on a school bus.
So, this is already a great beginning of a story: I was sitting on a bus with my arm around a girl who I was fake married to. Not my idea, not the idea of the girl my arm is around, but the idea of the only Christian girl on the bus who believes in traditional values and wants us to learn them so we don’t burn in what she calls Heck. Christian gal doesn’t use swear words, and thinks Hell, a proper noun in the context that she could use it in and not the ‘negative’ connotation most people use it in, is one of them. Someone needs to learn fucking grammar.
The girl I’m with is about to get off, so I moved to the other seat, allow her to get her books and her assorted items. As the bus stopped, she motioned her finger towards her, and I went to her, and she kissed me.
This should have been a win, but I failed because of one simple factor: My lips weren’t out because my super genius brain didn’t know that was gonna happen. So I don’t count that as my first kiss, but more of a half kiss. Comparable that one scene in Pineapple Express where Seth Rogen talks about the 2.5 times he’s had sex, and that half time he wasn’t really into it and even though it happened it didn’t really count.
Also, the whole fake marriage thing was a failure that was based on another failure with my actual attempt to get a girlfriend, which I probably had a two-minute window to make work at one point, but I only found out at the one minute one second mark and I said “Whatever, I’ll do it in a minute.” What an exciting life I live.
Fast forward to my next great string of failures: I went on a vacation on September 11th. Yep, a 9/11 vacation. A vacation that doesn’t celebrate what happened, but just so happens to be on a very tragic day in recent American history. Apparently going on a vacation on that day is not the best way to win at anything. At all.
So, it was a 9/11 vacation to theme park central. That’s right: Mutha. Fuckn. Orlando. Yeah, bitches. That’s a 30 minute drive from my house, son! A 23 mile drive AKA 37 kilometer drive by non-shoot’n! And I mean the greater Orlando area, okay? None of that Lake Buena Vista Disney kiddie bullshit. If I’m vacationing, I’m getting away from the bullshit magical world of Disney and the Stephen Spielberg world of Universal Studios, where they don’t fuck around with the movies! Remember how many random people died during the Transformers movies? Let me tell you, the ride based off those films have a bunch of unnamed, unseen civilian casualties like the films! See anyone die because of the I.S. in It’s A Small World?
So, I stayed on-sight at Universal’s resort, and I really thought I could get away from the failures that happens. The first night I stayed proved that notion wrong.
The Scene: JC, in a hot tub, talking to a cute girl around his age.
It was the first night of the vacation. I was sporting some swimming attire at the pool. As I retired to the hot hot, I sat next to a cute girl slightly older than me. We chat, hit it off, and we go our separate ways. After talking to my family, it appeared that I should have done some more work. Yeah, apparently I am oblivious to everything. No numbers exchanged, didn’t talk to her for the remainder of my stay, and that’s it. A simple failure, not that much to explain.
The Scene: JC plays with his sister and her boyfriend at the hotel arcade.
The first half of the story I won, surprisingly. I was at the right place at the right time. We played this fishing game with a very simple premise: Pounds to tickets. Every once in a while a bonus fish worth 700 tickets comes around, and I got it. Now, I failed in the worst way possible, by never cashing in the tickets. At least I have the super valuable tickets thought!
The Scene: JC talks to kids. Screw kids. (The fact that my aforementioned sister broke a foot after giving one of the kids a piggy-back ride is a loss on her part as well.)
So, that’s about it for losing the vacation, but I guess the best failure happened when I got back to my house and saddened by the fact that I had to go back to school the next day and get caught up.
The Scene: JC sits at his computer and caresses it, as it has been a full four days without it.
Back-story time: An hour before my 9/11 vacation, I wrote a five-minute speech for a student organization that builds robots and writes speeches and shit, because I wanted to run for the chapter’s government-type cabinet. I ran for the least important job, so there wouldn’t be much of a challenge versus the one other guy to win. I wrote a speech in five minutes, the generic bullshit “I can be a leader if need be” and “Vote for me ’cause fuck it” speech, and sent it to the teacher for someone to read it.
No surprise, but I lost the election. I would be fine with it, seeing as I didn’t try, but it was the first comment below it that really pissed me off. Best part: Same person that somehow pissed me off over the summer for no real reason. I’m sorry, but if you go bragging about that fact and say, and I quote, “Woah, these were all the people I voted for. Congrats guysss,” then I dislike you. Majorly. That first part wasn’t needed, just say “congratulations” like the second person who commented and be done with it! There’s no need for you to exclaim “HEY MOTHA FUCKAS! I HAVE THE BEST CHOICE IN FAKE GOVERNMENT-LIKE ELECTIONS!” because no one wants to hear that!
The moral of that story: Don’t break an arm jerking yourself off (or, in this case, fingering your cooch.) Have I used that expression before? I swear, if I did, then it really tells you about the people I associate with.
So, I’m a failure, and that’s about it. God, my life is so fucking simplistic and awesome.
More to come.
Today, from approximately 5am-9am EST, male workers across America, from CEO’s to blue collar construction workers, called in sick for work. According to multiple male sources, this is not related to the hundreds of photos or nude celebs that were leaked last night, and is purely a coincidence.
“This massive male call-out is clearly not related to any of those hundred-something photos of Jennifer Lawrence, Victoria Justice, Kate Upton, and other celebrities,” says Dr. Smith, a male physician in Miami, FL. “This is, however, a rare and very contagious disease that has affected those only with a Y-chromosome, which can cause spasms in the hand for a 12 to 24 hour period. Due to these spasms, it is not recommended that any male go to work or leave the house.” The disease, which doctors call the Gopaf nerve disease, is expected to “be gone within the day, as the disease is such a simple viral infection that the body will react fast to it.” Dr. Smith has repeatedly assured us that there is no way that this disease is related to the celebrity nudes, and stated every twenty seconds that “It is just a coincidence.”
With all males out at home recovering from this disease, the remaining female workers are expected to “Actually get things done, for a change.”
“We females know that, for the next few hours, we’re actually going to get the work done” according to female office worker Katie R. in New York City.
“With no males to limit us, we can actually reform the economy, solve poverty, and make this the best country in the world,” says congresswoman Kathy Castor.
With all sources confirming that this disease is not a cover of men staying home just for looking at leaked nudes of celebrities that all men have fantasized having sex with, we still want to report that the nudes are still raising concerns about internet privacy. Luckily for us, we had an exclusive phone interview with one of the alleged hackers, whose name we were not given for obvious reasons, to verify some information.
JC: “Thank you for calling us and deciding to do this interview.”
Hacker: “Don’t mention it.”
JC: “So, you and a few others are responsible for these leaked nudes, is that correct?”
H: “Yes, I did hack through some sources.”
JC: “So these photos are not fakes, right?”
H: “I assure you they’re real.”
JC: “You’re not fucking with us, right? A couple of stars have come out to say that they are fakes.”
H: “I’m not fucking with you.”
JC “You are aware that if you did just post Photoshopped fakes, all men will be disappointed and want your head on a platter, right?”
H: “Yeah… sure.”
JC: “We saw that you first posted to 4chan and then to Reddit, and when we looked at your accounts, you have opposed the NSA from doing their spying and invading privacy in the past. Do you see any irony or hypocrisy in your actions?”
H: (A ten second pause) “No, because looking at and sharing pictures of a celebrity’s breasts is better than the NSA looking at celebrity breasts and not sharing the pictures.”
JC: “Makes perfect sense.”
The hacker hung up after that last statement. We were about to ask is there was any correlation between this and the leaked nudes, but we speculate his answer would have been “Use your fucking brain.”
The Associated Press did not contribute to this story. Those guys are jerks.
Fair warning: This post contains spoilers for the films God’s Not Dead and Reservoir Dogs. If you have not seen either of these films, I recommend watching them. Even if you are an Atheist, watch God’s Not Dead, because while the film itself is basically religious propaganda, there are multitudes of reasons to complain, even with biases aside.
God’s Not Dead (2014) is a dramatic Christian film directed by Harold Cronk with 17% of critics enjoying it, but with a substantially high 83% of the general audience liking it according to Rotten Tomatoes. The film focuses on freshman Josh, a Christian, debating with his philosophy teacher, an Atheist, along with many other supporting plots that get tangled up with the main story. The film, set in college, showcases all the fun of lecturing and debate during an introductory philosophy class and teachers leaning on walls at the back of the classroom getting angry!
Reservoir Dogs (1992) is a crime thriller and the directorial debut of Quentin Tarantino with a 92% positive rating from critics, and 94% of the general audience liking it according to Rotten Tomatoes. The film focuses on the non-chronological skills of Tarantino as he showcases the events before and after a failed diamond heist, with supporting plots that go smoothly with the main story. In a multitude of settings, but mainly a warehouse, the film has all the fun adventures of finding the rat and killing your own team at the end!
These films have practically nothing in common. However, when put side to side, you start to question how the hell a film critics panned was loved by the majority of the general audience. So, I put almost all biases aside for this one time series Films Side by Side (Not affiliated with the Keanu Reeves documentary Side by Side (2012)), where at certain points of the film, I explain what happened and give some thoughts on either how great or how shitty the past few scenes were, and will help compare an audience loved film versus a critic and audience loved film. Both films will be abbreviated by its initials.
Before we begin, I’ll use this quote from the YouTube channel CinemaSins to represent this blog and the people who run it: “We’re not reviewers, we’re assholes.”
Before Film Thoughts: Okay, I’m not religious, but all my friends on Facebook just love GND, and only a few of my friends love Tarantino films. So, either I have a bad taste in film and need to enjoy more religious films, or I need to get rid of my current friends.
GND: Pureflix? What the fuck is Pureflix? It’s not the shittier version of Netflix, so why is it the name of a film production! Not only that, the film takes two minutes to get through the name of the film and every single person involved. Someone didn’t take a lesson from Spider-man (2002). The graphics were decent though in Spider-man, this is just people laughing and walking with flat words on screen with Christian music. Also, can’t trust a feature length film shot in the same aspect ratio of most modern TV shows.
RD: Okay, orange text on a black screen and the title doesn’t come up before the opening tag. This film is already professional. Same with the aspect ratios: 2.39:1! Cinema standards!
8 Minutes In:
GND: Okay, isn’t this film supposed to convince me to believe in God? I’m only convinced that there’s no way someone in college doesn’t know that PRC stands for the People’s Republic of China, that the only reason one of the supporting characters got robbed was for unnecessary conflict, and that all businessmen and women are smug douchebags.
RD: Now this film is getting somewhere. I just get to the name of the film and it already convinced me that Tarantino can write, act, and direct, and that I shouldn’t tip my waitresses.
11 Minutes In:
GDN: Alright, the professor is already going into how most famous philosophers were Atheists. And the one stereotypical laid back student left after he was told he would do work. I want some real conflict that matters later on into the film, goddammit!
RD: Okay, we skipped the diamond heist (which would have been fun to see, I’ll admit), but there is already real conflict! Mr. Orange got shot and Mr. White is trying to calm him down as they drive to the rendezvous. This is getting exciting.
17 Minutes In:
GND: Two priests talk about layovers and a 36 hour flight, which is exciting. Then the Atheist professor says “God is dead” (metaphor for God never existed), the Christian student doesn’t stand for it, and the professor decides to allow him do debate that God isn’t dead. They never say “God’s not dead” specifically, so the credits do not need to roll yet.
RD: Mr. Pink shows up and is already saying that the heist was set – Okay, now I feel like an asshole for spoiling this film for those who haven’t seen it. Get off this blog and watch the damn film. It’s on Netflix and all pirating sites. Watch it, and then get back so I can spoil GND.
18 Minutes In:
GND: Okay, this film, within a one minute interval, did convince me something. Not that God’s not dead, but that Josh’s girlfriend is a controlling bitch, as proven by the quote “I’m sorry if I have the next 50 years of our life planned out.” Yeah, I’m betting five bucks that they break up.
RD: The two who haven’t been shot go to another room to talk, and it was written beautifully.
21 Minutes In:
GND: Atheist reporter talks to a Christian redneck and his beautiful wife, and no real conflict happens. Either the hot wife is a gold digger or this movie has false logic about women liking men, because if the redneck can just get a beautiful woman, then I should be drowning in the vaginas (and I mean drowning.)
RD: Only two problems within the last few minutes: No sensible person would say the words “The fuck’s your problem man?” when a man running with a gun shoves you a little bit to the side, and guns have more than 6-12 bullets. Other than that, everything seems logical.
23 Minutes In:
GND: Stereotypical Islamic father is stereotypically Islamic. (Add one point to the sin count, kids at home!) Also, if we’re bringing Islam into this, why not bring in Judaism? Hell, let’s bring in some Mormons and make this a religious melting pot!
RD: From what I’ve heard, Mr. Blonde’s not a guy I’d want to bring to a dinner party, let me tell ya. Also, if this Joe fella brought all these people together, then he needs to get his shit together. There’s a nice conversation on human nature though.
28 Minutes In:
GND: Priests talking and bible reading! What’s next? Songs about Christ? Wait, already done. Maybe some more!
RD: Somebody’s a fuck’n rat. Mr. White has a back-story. Joe is the head of some mob, the job was originally five members, but there was an added sixth member somehow. Suspense.
33 Minutes In:
GND: This film is 1/4 of the way done now. The Atheist female report has cancer, and if they don’t bring it up again like in The Room (2003), then maybe I can start taking this film seriously. Also, Josh’s girlfriend still thinks only about herself.
RD: This film is 1/3 of the way done. So shit gets real in the warehouse. Mr. White and Mr. Pink make the famous shot where Mr. Pink lies on the ground with his gun at Mr. White, who is standing with his gun pointed at Mr. Pink. Mr. Blonde shows up out of nowhere.
40 Minutes In:
GND: Okay, the two priests from the airport try to go on vacation, but the car doesn’t work. Then it cuts to Josh lecturing on God, which leads to the most idiotic person on the fucking planet to say “What’s a theist?” even though the professor ALREADY EXPLAINED THAT ON THE FIRST DAY. Then it cuts to the priests, and one of them asks a car and specifically asks for air conditioning, even though that’s probably standard in all modern cars. Then it cuts back to Josh and his whole lecture is broken by one thing the professor says. There are so many examples of sloppy writing within 7 minutes that this is starting to become a religious Room.
RD: Mr. White loses his shit, while Mr. Blonde is pretty fucking smooth for a psycho killer. There is excellent writing here, folks. Now there’s a cop hostage and we start to see the back-story behind Mr. Blonde. I am considering just watching the end of this through and stop watching GND.
50 Minutes In:
GND: Okay, we get it: All Atheists are assholes. You don’t need to prove it within two minutes. I do give the film credit when Josh decides to pretty much say to his girlfriend “You’re a bitch” and they break up. (If you played the bet at home from 32 minutes ago, you owe me five dollars!) Even with the most realistic scene done, some serious bullshit comes along: The daughter of the stereotypical Islamic dad apparently listens to the bible, then her little brother decides to be a dick and goes into her room while she lies down listening to gospel, and he finds out, causing her to yell at him and tell him to never tell their father, even though he totally will. Then afterwards the film continues to prove that Atheist businessmen are assholes when the businessman from the beginning has dinner with cancer gal, and she says that she’s in love with him, and he says that love is used so loosely.
RD: Yeah, this film is way better. The mob head has a son who’s a fucking prick, he meets up with the warehouse gang, and they leave the hostage with Mr. Blonde.
1 Hour In:
GND: The film is halfway done. I’ll summarize the last few minutes: Priest gets new car, it doesn’t work again. Asshole businessman is the brother of Christian nice person, and their mom has dementia. The most worthless ten seconds of film happen when Josh gets a book from a library that cuts Christian and Asshole Atheist brother with her boyfriend asshole Atheist professor. This movie is really starting to play the interconnecting bullshit card. Afterwards, the priest gets another car, and it still doesn’t work. Then, asshole Atheist professor hosts a part with other asshole Atheist professors and makes fun of Josh while Christian nice woman argues with asshole Atheist professors. Look, I get professors make fun of their students, but isn’t there another kid in the class they could make fun of? Maybe that one extra who just kind of looks weird?
RD: The film is 2/3 of the way done. 7 minutes are dedicated to this one hostage, only to prove that psychopathic killer/torturer is psychotic (the song Stuck in the Middle with You will never be heard the same way again), and now they’ve decided to give a realistic amount of bullets to the guys when Mr. Orange shoots Mr. Blonde, making us believe he’s the rat. Now, the fact that Mr. Orange was shot by his own cops when the department knew he was a part of it means that either the police are idiots for fucking shooting him or geniuses by making him injured for realism.
1Hr, 2 Min In:
GND: Stereotypical Asian father is stereotypically Asian. Asshole professor is an asshole.
RD: Mr. Orange explains stuff, it will be more important within 20 minutes.
1 Hr, 25 Min In:
GND: Another lecture, priest whose car will never start somehow gets to dinner with nice Christian gal that has asshole Atheist boyfriend, so more interconnections I need to remember. Another pro-God lecture, Atheist gal still has cancer, Asshole professor is still a fucking asshole, Islamic dad is abusive, Asian dad is Asian, priest and Christian gal who was once Islamic talk, asshole Atheist professor is an asshole, and the final lecture begins.
RD: Mr. Orange’s back-story includes cops, rehearsing a monologue, and everything you need to know for the last five minutes of the film.
1 Hr, 30 Min In:
GND: Asshole Atheist professor had a mom who died of cancer, so this shit is still more connected. The whole class says “God’s not Dead”, so this film has literally no reason to continue. Roll the damn credits already! But no, we need to look at everyone congratulating Josh and if the priest’s car will ever work.
RD: This film is done. The cop is killed by the son, and, yes, some bullshit occurs. Mr. White, the only person who has an emotional connection Mr. Orange thinks he isn’t the rat even though everyone else who isn’t dead yet totally knows it’s him. The Mexican standoff occurs, and Mr. Pink tries to keep everyone professional, which doesn’t happen, by the way. The don, his son, and Mr. White shoot each other, and somehow Mr. White is still able to crawl to Mr. Orange, to which Mr. Orange confesses, and shots are fired as the screen goes black. Mr. Pink goes off with the diamonds, by the way.
The Rest of GND: The priest’s car finally works! Atheist asshole businessman sees mother, realizes he’s an asshole and converts. Atheist asshole reporter with cancer interviews Christian band, she realizes that she’s just angry about her cancer, so she converts. Atheist asshole professor runs to girl who is probably at the same Christian concert, and is ran over by asshole who hits and runs (probably an Atheist), priest who’s trying to get to vacation happens to be near now dying asshole professor, so he helps asshole Atheist professor see his ways, and asshole Atheist converts right before he dies. Almost the entire main and supporting cast is at the concert now, connecting.
Final film thoughts:
GND: We get it: All males and females that aren’t Christian are assholes. We get it. Also, why did the businessman convert? There’s no reason for him to when the other two do when they’re dying! Why doesn’t he just stop being an asshole and still be an Atheist? Oh right, the film doesn’t allow that.
RD: This film was great. Not Pulp Fiction great, but still great. Bonus points for doing it all during 1 1/2 hours.
Comparatively, Reservoir Dogs is streets ahead of God’s not Dead. Again, I’m not a reviewer, just an asshole.
More to come.
Hi, I’m JC. You might know me from ventures such as the very blog you’re reading that has won zero awards, a high school comedy column that still has yet to win any awards, or that one time I wrote a one-act for my eight grade drama class, produced it, had a role in it, had a great one night run, and was nominated for an award, but lost to a religious play because no one in that class had a sense of humor and obviously hated atheists.
However, unlike usual ventures, today we’re not going to make humorous insights on people I know, and we’re not going to focus on me being an asshole. Instead, I’m going to solve one of America’s biggest issues: People under the age of 18 watching pornography on the internet. It’s an epidemic that affects by at least every single teenage boy with an internet connection, and maybe around 5-10 teenage girls in the United States.
Now, this movement I’m creating is unlike most traditional anti-porn movements. It’s unlike the feminist opposition because we’re totally fine with women having sex and getting paid for it, it’s different from conservatives saying “It’s against traditional values” because anything traditional usually sucks, and it’s different from religious people against it because I know that religious values are lame.
This movement is only about the viewing of pornography. We’re totally fine with masturbation.
The Masturbate to Increase Imagination Movement, saying no to porn and yes to imaginative masturbation, (NOTE: Slogan currently a work in progress) is all about removing the porn from teens while still allowing them to control their urges, and stay sane. No longer will teens get orgasms the easy way, they have to work hard for it.
The MII Movement, because we agree with the objectification aspects that feminists argue, but still want to keep enough objectification that we can imagine having sex with a woman we saw jogging down the street, is done in a few easy steps: Parents block internet sites on the teen’s computer that have any pornographic content, then they talk to their kids about sex and the experience, and then the teen goes wild with their imagination! It’s a simple process that works and helps kids have more imaginative minds.
Also, I should mention that, due to apparent copyright laws, I can’t call it the MII Movement because Nintendo might sue me. It just so happens they want the word MII to be more associated with their Wii avatar, and not an anti-porn movement. So, from now on, it will be called MIIM.
Where does having a larger imagination do for you? Well, our talented researchers believe (and believe, not know) that an increase in imagination can lead to tons of career opportunities, including, but not limited to:
- Professional office worker that has access to a bunch of sticky notes that allows the worker to make silly cartoons, then posts them on Reddit for internet points!
- Professional office worker with self-respect!
- Professional store clerk with health benefits! (Does not apply to Hobby Lobby workers or workers in other companies with religious beliefs.)
- Successful, yet depressed, poetry writer!
- Unsuccessful, yet happy, poetry writer!
The list goes on and on!
So, parents and teens, join MIIM!
MIIM: Because we know porn can lead to dead minds, but we also know that not masturbating can lead to dead bodies.
Too harsh of a slogan? I’m still working on it. Let’s try again.
MIIM: You can watch porn for the story, but god forbid you watch it to do yourself.
Too lame? Alright, time to hit the truth.
MIIM: Because if JC ever gets famous enough, he needs a stupid joke to sell merchandise.
More to come.