World 'Sup Honeys

I'm a mix-breed, so I can use ethnic phraseology.

Here's my World Cup post, pointing out some of the more interesting happenings and their effects on the future of the world. Also, if you're still obsessed with the honeys premise, you can check some out over at Fox Soccer Cha...huzzanahhuzzanah boing!

1. The Shoe-Kick (Germany/Sweden). When a German player lost his shoe, Swedish striker Henrik Larssen decided to kick it farther away from him. Inevitably this cockish move will anger Deutschland not one degree, not two degrees, oh no not three degrees, but FOUR whole degrees! Thus will emerge the Fourth Reich and begin the rumblings of war. The rumblings will cease, however, when everyone agrees to just let Germany bomb Larssen's house with day-old cheese. Smelly!

2. The Cards (Italy/USA, Netherlands/Portugal, Insert country/Insert nation.) As those watching indubitably know, the doling out of colored cards is out of control. Some experts have predicted this signals the reprise of Yellowcard and other emo/punk rock; it doesn't. Emo songs require some variant of the words trying/crying/dying, and these soccer cards are simply blank. Instrumental music cannot be fully emo, and so this relationship is incomplete.

In fact, the upflux of cards signals a linguistic trend in which your grandpa will start calling you and your friends a bunch of "cards." Nobody will know what he's really talking about or what this actually means (If the 2 of clubs = Carson Daly, then does the Queen of Diamonds = Shakira?), and your grandpa will probably die. My grandpas are already dead, so I won't care. Thanks for bringing it up, though (bastards).

Your grandpa calls her a card, too, but I don't want to say why.

3. The Jungle (Netherlands/Portugal). During the insanity that was this match, the Univision announcer proclaimed, in English, "Welcome to the Jungle." Hilarious at the time, yes, but a dire warning to citizens of either country involved in this rock metaphor. Both Portugal and the Netherlands are dependent upon their ports. Global warming will threaten to transform these beaches and docking areas into all-out monkey-infested jungles; uninhabitable and unusable. Something will have to be done, or the entire economies of these nations will collapse. Perhaps some adaptations could succeed, but, unfortunately, there's still no way for tropical regions to prosper in the Newton business; sorry, we have no bananas.

4. A Time for Friends (England/Ecuador). Near the final whistle, Wayne Rooney showed himself to be the cocksprout I've seen in Premiership games by condescendingly rubbing the hair of an Ecuadorian player. Again the Univision announcer prophesized in English, naming this gesture "A Time for Friends." This will backfire on England, for there is actually less relative time in England than there is on the equator in Ecuador (given the sun = time theory). Ecuadorians will garner more friends than the English, and better parties will be thrown... preferably, Mario Parties.

A cocksprout in full bloom.

5. Musburger with Cheese (ABC halftime show). The fact that an 80-year old college football announcer - Brent Musburger - is hosting soccer halftime portends the following: Because ABC obviously spent no effort on this event, they must be spending millions on what will go down in history as the greatest season of According to Jim ever. Did somebody say "explosive" comedy? "Hey Dad, the grill in the back is under PLO fire again." BOOM!

Alright. I don't know how much of my humor can be grasped tonight after my Brain Age ballooned from 30 to 34 (20 is the optimal), but at least I filled space.

Also, if you know alias Dan Wipenstein, order him to give me his extra wireless device so that group blogging of pop culture classics like The Hillz and Teen Wolf Too can occur in my basement. What's that? You don't think I should be given things for free? See ya then, cuz I'm late, and you're wrong.

Montage.

Untitled Project

A Precursor: Ideas published on a blog are legally published. Do not steal the following ideas, because if you do, I am required by law to chase you down, tackle you, and walk away nonchalantly as if nothing happened.

The exciting idea which demands the preceding precursor -

A Kangaroo Disaster Movie!

I know. It's genius. Don't thank me, though, for this is a group project originally introduced, I believe, by one Daniel Wipenstein. Inspired by every disaster movie, our untitled film may or may not feature comedy-man Anthony Anderson revisiting his Kangaroo Jack character. Nobody involved in the process has seen the undoubtedly funny Kangaroo Jack, so we've written his part as we assume it was. Now we just need to find a Baptist choir to fit into that banana-boat hat he wears...

Filming was set to begin this summer, but the project has become almost entirely theoretical, so I'm feeding you culture vultures some of the possible dead rodents you'll probably never see on the silver screen. By dead rodents, of course, I mean theatrical gems; the metaphor arises from the knowledge nugget that possum eyes are used as props for rubies on Broadway.

Without further ado, some possum eyes!

***********************

UNTITLED PROJECT

Open on the backwoods of Brookfield Wisconsin, circa 1850. BART and ROCHELLE, both burly men, huff and puff as they pull a giant box behind them.

BART: Rochelle, don't you think we can stop now? We escaped from Australia, crossed the Pacific, and traversed another half-continent. Surely no one's still after us, mate.

ROCHELLE: Yeah, I guess you're right. Should we take a peak at what it was we stole, then?

BART: DefinATEly.

Taking out a chisel, the two knock at the lock.

ROCHELLE: I can't wait. I bet it's gold!

BART: I hope it's platinum. Last I saw, old platty was even more precious than gold.

ROCHELLE: Did ya say Platty, mate? Damnet! That was the name of the pet platypus we lost at sea. Can we have a moment of silence please?

BART: Of course, mate. I'm sorry. I should've remembered.

The two turn away from the box to honor the dead with awkward quiet. The box begins to rattle. The pair slowly turn around, bewildered by the box's movement. Rattling increases.

BART: What the...?

A swooping kangaroo tail explodes from the box! (This will be stock footage of my yellow lab Josie's tail wagging.) Cut to a shot of the ground, as BART and ROCHELLE's heads roll into view.

******************

Blah blah blah I'm tired of screenplay format. Basically, we then go to Brookfield's central plaza in the present day, where the public is having a big festival in honor of nobody dying in the past 150 years. Some relationships are established between protagonists. Everyone talks about how safe the world is. We see some kids playing basketball on a hoop covered with ivy (unexplained). We meet a man in a Mayan tribal mask who tells everyone about his research and how there's a horrible disaster coming. Everyone laughs at him. The b-ball kids decide to play KANGAROO instead of HORSE. Some kind of magic or coincidence becomes unleashed, and kangaroos slowly invade.

The script is still in its early stages and may be tossed in favor of something more X-Men-like, but if anybody wants to be in this or fund it or direct it, contact somebody. That somebody will then contact me, and I will contact God to see if He agrees with my decision. Yeah, God's a dude. So what?

Oi! Stop your clamoring. I'll end with another quote from the movie since you want it so bad:

"Derek, I don't think these onions were bloomin' before I left for work. "

TAIL WHOOSH

Yeah, Anthony Anderson's black. So what?

Accent on the E

Wouldn't the title of this post be a great title for a local city paper? You know, one of those periodicals that reviews the "unique" nightlife and culture of the region, no matter how boring it is. Unfortunately, I can't think of any US cities that start with E - much less interesting cities - so I'll have to start this mag after moving to Eindhoven, Holland. Why will I move there? Not only do they accept frequent usage of the word "mag", but they also accept criminals recently banished from Amsterdam due to extreme hobocide*. Let's hope my reputation doesn't follow me to Eindhoven, however, or else the mag might have to be named Accent on the Eeeeeeee (tugs shirt collar).

* Fellow hobocide enthusiasts - Hobos like to travel by train, so catch them at your local station when they attempt to steal Muffin Bites from the confectionary. Your station does have a confectionary, right?

Anyway, I've been back from Mexico and stalling life for the World Cup, but I don't want to ignore my webiary for too long. I don't want you to caution me for time-wasting with a...snicker...yellow card...snicker...

SNICKER

Before I post the picture for the contest I held pre-trip, I'd like to show you an even more incredible slide from my journey. I learned a lot about Mayan culture, was awed by the ruins at Chichen-Itza and Uxmal, and enjoyed some wonderful food and atmosphere in Mérida, but one picture remains in the forefont of my scrapbook now and forever:


Can you believe it? People really are the same wherever you go, because they all love Robin Williams' comedy instaclassic RV (aka Crazy Vacations on Wheels). I felt a bit out of place in Mexico at first, towering above their small bodies and mocking their 10-years late Taz craze (uh, hello? SpongeBob isn't even relevant anymore..get with it slowheads...or should I say, coneheads! Topical!), but when I saw Cheryl Hines' sly smile on the poster I was reminded of Curb Your Enthusiasm and its patheticness in comparison to RV. Admittedly, I'm yet to see the film, but doesn't that speak volumes about its legacy? I never saw Rasputin's penis, but its alleged grandeur lives on in history...wait, I did see it when a Yahoo! news story had a picture with it in a jar a couple of years ago. Gross.

SNAPU!

That was onomatopoeia representing my return to pop culture sanity. In other words, it's Mark Twain time! The last two nights I thoroughly enjoyed Star Trek: The Next Generation's "Time's Arrow" episode, in which Samuel Clemens himself plays a large role. I'm not entirely happy with the portrayal, as the show actually makes him out to be a bit more caustic and peevish than I'd infer, but even his inaccurate presence dominates the screen. Ah, if only I could've analyzed this episode in some kind of academic arena... Gotcha! I already did, back in my sophomore year's Philosophy and Star Trek class. And that's why I'm unemployed.

Well, I think we all learned a lot today. For one, it's hard to write well after taking even a short break. For two, it's hard to write well when the only thing you've read the past week is World Cup coverage. For three, here's the winning picture!**

(**Contest judged not on quality, but on ability to fit into word bubble).

Why did the dark-skinned man fall asleep under the tortilla tree?